A Coven of Prefects - Harmony Version
Disclaimer: Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.
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Chapter 5 - So Now That You're a Coven Camper... (Part One)
That the beach that the witches had portkeyed to wasn't the final destination became clear once Hermione heard a very passable imitation of Hagrid's voice.
"Fifth 'ears, o'er 'ere...Fifth 'ears, o'er 'ere...no more than eight to a boat."
The Gryffindor prefect turned towards the Head Girl's voice and spotted two house-elf piloted Zodiaks "motoring" up over the breaking waves. Wind-resistant, water-wicking robes were passed out that kept the witches cozy as the small inflatable watercraft carried the thirteen witches to a single-masted sloop anchored four miles offshore. Once aboard, a foul-mouthed wizard captain ordered the house-elves to make sail, and ordered the witches below decks. Sixty minutes later (travel times are always short when house-elves can fill the sails with magic), the sloop's hatch was opened and the witches were allowed back outside.
They had entered a small cove guarded by an imposingstone fortification on cliff's edge. Those Prefects old enough to disapparate found their own way to shore, leaving Hermione and the other Fifth-Years to once again board an inflatable boat that put them ashore. The house-elf steered straight for a small beach at the base of the cliff and the Coven guide led the younger witches to steps that ran from the base of the bluff upon to the top of the fortress walls. Halfway up the stairs, a hidden doorway was opened for their use, and the witches were led into a torch-lit hallway.
"This used to be a muggle fort…now it's a wizard's inn," Flo noted along the way. "We'll be here for the rest of the time-turned week." She then showed the four Fifth-Years to a small alcove, where two rooms with opened doors faced each other.
"You'll bunk two to a room. Keep the robes…they're your camp uniform for the week. The lav is down that hall, the dining room is two levels up, and breakfast is at eight. Good night."
As the guide left, Hannah asked, "So how should we split up?"
They sat there for a moment in silence, before Pansy sneered at the other three and entered one of the rooms. "Figure it out yourselves," she called over her shoulder.
As the Slytherin crawled into a bed the other three looked at each other.
"Reckon she doesn't care whom she bunks with, then?" Hannah asks.
Padma nodded. Decide using "Rock, Parchment, and Wand?"
Hermione nodded in agreement.
Hermione lost.
Hermione entered Pansy's room with slumped shoulders, closed the door, and hung the white water-wicking robe that she'd been wearing upon a hook.
It was going to be a long time-turned week.
oo00OO00oo
It was one of those semi-conscious early-morning dreams that incorporates "reality" far more than anything
that sprung from REM-sleep.
Hermione had again popped out of nowhere over a moonlit beach and begun falling. But rather than appear five-feet above the waves, she was free falling from a point hundreds of feet above the water. Hermione screamed at the top of her lungs as she fell...and fell...and fell...and suddenly she was safe. She was safe because Buckbeak-riding Harry Potter had caught her out of mid-air, and swung her around so that she was sitting behind him, both mounted on the hippogriff's back.
As Buckbeak pulled out of his intercepting dive and began to flap his wings, Hermione wrapped her arms around Harry's chest and pulled him close. Her hardened nipples pressed against his back as her crotch ground up against the nexus of Harry's bum and Buckbeak's back. There was contact of flesh against flesh and feather...so Hermione wasn't wearing any clothing, and Harry wasn't wearing any clothing, and Buckbeak wasn't wearing any clothing (not that he would be normally).
On cue the hippogriff turned sharply, and Hermione's hand accidentally-on-purpose fell into Harry's lap...and onto his erection. She pulled her hand back in shock, muttered apologies, and prayed that the dream wouldn't end there. But of course it didn't...Harry (who hadn't spoken a word the whole time) smiled, and reached for the offending hand. He brought Hermione's fingertips to his lips and kissed them tenderly, before dragging them back down his chest towards the place they both wanted her fingers to be.
Buckbeak altered course one final time, and began climbing towards the edge of the cliff that overlooked the sheltered beach. Hermione's fingers wrapped around the head of Harry's shaft, then slipped down to the base with one smooth stroke. Sensing room for than a single-handed grip, left hand took hold as well. Harry gasped as Hermione began to stroke him lovingly. Leaning forward into his mount, he reached back with both hands and took hold of Hermione's bared flanks. His arse ground back against her mound, as he pulled her forward with his fingers.
The hippogriff took the two lovers to his massive eyrie (constructed with saplings instead of twigs. Harry and Hermione swung their legs off of Buckbeak's back and landed in a mass of silky-soft hand-sized pinfeathers. They waved as their steed flew off into the night, then melted into the tightest of embraces. Hermione and Harry both knew what they wanted to do (shag) and when they wanted to do it (as soon as possible). But where? A still-silent Harry broke the embrace and started to lead Hermione towards the center of the nest, where the cushion of feathers was thickest. But Hermione shook her head, and led Harry in a different direction.
It was Harry's turn to ride behind her.
The wall of interlocked branches that formed the seaward side of the eyrie was just the right height for Hermione to bend over. So she did. Hermione's breasts grazed against the interwoven foliage as she propped her elbows against the edge and wiggled her bum in open invitation. Harry didn't need to be asked twice. A lust-filled growl escaped his lips as he slipped behind Hemione, positioned the head of his shaft against her swollen lower lips, and penetrated deeply. It was now Hermione's turn to gasp, as she grabbed hold of the nest's edge and pushed back into his thrusts.
"Oh Harry! Oh Harry! Oh Harry! "
The enormity of their love and passion was heightened by their surroundings. As Harry loved her from behind, Hermione could look out onto the moonlit sea, and hear the crashing waves, and smell the salty air, and feel the cool breeze on her bared skin. She was convinced that she was with the perfect lover, at the perfect time, and in the perfect place...
Until Pansy Parkinson started to pee.
Hermione groaned in frustration as dream Harry and their dream shag in the dream location faded away was replaced by the early morning reality of an unshared bed within a shared bedroom. She was laid out on her belly, with only a thin sheet to disguise the fact that her right hand was buried in between her legs. Hoping desperately that her temporary roommate was focused more on her aim than anything else, Hermione slowly and carefully slipped her hand out of her knickers and slipped it to her side. It was only then that she opened her eyes, and found herself nearly face-to-face with a smiling witch who was squatting over a magical chamber pot.
"Sorry," Pansy said impishly. "Couldn't hold it any longer, and there isn't much room to set the pot in between our beds."
With a frown, Hermione replied, "You do know that there is a proper loo just down the hall, right?"
The Slytherin's grin grew wider as she finished her business and slipped her knickers back up.
"Of course I know," she said. "Just couldn't tear myself away from your performance."
"What performance?"
Pansy's eyes lit up as she bent down and placed her hands on the side of Hermione's bed. As she thrust her bum back and began to bounce, saying, "Oh Harry! Oh Harry! Oh Harry!..."
Hermione closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh.
It was going to be a long time-turned week.
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Too embarrassed to stay in the room with Pansy, Hermione grabbed her wand and robe and headed for the lavatory. It seemed a bit strange not to have to a bath attached to their room, given the luxuriousness of their accommodations, but then the wizard-run inn did cater to a world in which magical chamber pots were the preferred nighttime means for relieving oneself.
Hermione raised an eyebrow when she entered the lavatory and spotted a bidet mounted on the wall next to the toilet. She was no stranger to their use, having gone on many Continental holidays with her parents. But they had always been in muggle locations...Hermione had never seen one within the wizarding world. Of course, her experiences as a witch had been limited to Britain, and bidets were rare within muggle Britain, so maybe that explained it.
Her curiosity piqued, Hermione gave the fixture a closer look, once she was finished with the toilet. There was no doubt that it was a magical bit of plumbing...rather than just having knobs for hot and cold water, or to direct the spray of water,there were a dozen different levers, as well as a full panel of buttons whose labels ranged from logical to befuddling. It was easy enough to suss-out the buttons pushed based on whether the user was male or female, but what did it mean to have those gender choices applied to the bidet water itself?
"Don't fancy experimenting when I'm squatting over it," Hermione muttered. "Wonder if this comes with an instructional manual."
"Is Miss needing some help with the bee-day?"
Hermione startled, pulled her Post-it charmed wand from her thigh, turned, and aimed turned towards the question's source...a house elf dressed in a red tunic emblazoned with gold lions.
"Eeep!" the house-elf chirped, before popping away.
"Oh, Merlin," Hermione exclaimed. Not wishing to scare off the oppressed hotel staff, she holstered her wand against her bare thigh and called out, "Hello? I'm sorry to have scared you, could you please come back?"
A nervous looking house-elf popped into the corner of the lavatory and crouched behind the toilet tank.
"Does Miss need Tizzy?"
Hermione nodded. "I'm sorry that I frightened you. Do you work here Tizzy?"
The house-elf nodded vigorously. "Tizzy be bonded to Master Doe-Tell's family all her life."
Hermione bit off a scowl, and wondered whether one of the knit caps that she had stashed in her book bag would fit the house-elf's head.
"Master doe-tell...do you mean the maitre d'hotel?"
The house-elf frowned. "Tizzy is sorry that Tizzy spoke wrong. Tizzy must be punished!"
Hermione reached out and stopped the house-elf from slamming the toilet seat down onto its head.
"Please, you didn't do anything wrong...you don't have to punish yourself!" Hermione pleaded.
The house-elf looked up at the witch with tears in her eyes.
"You don't want to punish Tizzy?"
"No, I don't," Hermione replied gently. "Your French was perfectly understandable."
The house-elf's eyes watered. "Miss is the most kind guest....what can Tizzy be doing for Miss?"
"Well, I was wondering if you could explain how this bidet works."
The house-elf nodded her head vigorously, and moved to the young witch's side. After a somewhat embarrassing series of questions and comments, a programmed sequence of events was "dialed" into the magical controls. Hermione was about to press the "start" button when she noticed that the house-elf was still by her side.
"Erm...thank you very much for your help, Tizzy...I think that I can take it from here."
The house-elf nodded and popped away after instructing Hermione to call whenever she needed assistance.
In anticipation of bidet settings that would switch from "scourgify" to "stimulate," Hermione cast locking charms against the door, and silencing charms against all four walls, the floor and ceiling. She then tested the strength of the silencing charms during a powerful water-aided orgasm.
Once the bidet helped Hermione attain the sexual release that had been delayed by Pansy's antics, a second round of
cleaning was performed. A content smile crept onto the witch's face as her bits were then "hand-dried" by
magic. This smile was wiped off of Hermione's face when she heard a loud knock and a catty question.
"So now that you've gotten off, can you get off the bidet so somebody else can use the lav?"
Flushed with embarrassment, Hermione grabbed her robe, pocketed her knickers, and canceled the locking and silencing charms. Standing on the other side of the door was a grinning Sixth-Year prefect.
"Sorry if I was too loud," Hermione muttered.
"No worries, Gryff…couldn't hear a thing?"
"Then how…"
"Lucky guess," the Slytherin replied. "Should we start a wank schedule, then? Or maybe keep the door open so others can use the loo while you squirt and squat?"
"Erm, no, that's alright," Hermione stammered, her face flushed with embarrassment. She slipped past the leering Slytherin and did a mini- "Walk of Shame" down the hall.
It was going to be a long time-turned week.
oo00OO00oo
Hermione escaped up to ground level, where she found a stack of newspapers sitting on an empty reception desk. They were all dated Wednesday, August 27, consistent with the notion that they had traveled back in time exactly one week. Hermione also noted that the stack included both muggle and magical dailies, written in both English and French. Having already read the Daily Prophet for that day whilst at Grimmauld Place, Hermione grabbed the wizarding version of Le Monde and stepped through a glass patio door out into a small garden.
The ground-floor of the inn was housed within a stone-walled building that sat within the center of the fortress's footprint. Many of the perimeter battlements had been converted into raised planting beds, and filled with a variety of flowers in full bloom. When Hermione walked to the edge of one of these waist-high granite walls, she spied the small, sheltered beach that they had landed on the night before. Out beyond the crashing waves, she spotted a second beach thatstretched out along a distant shoreline.
"Have you guessed where you're at yet, dearie?"
Hermione turned and found herself in front of an elderly woman who wore a wide-brimmed straw hat and carried a basket full of freshly-cut flowers. Taking note of the flag that was flopping in the wind over the woman's shoulder, Hermione asked, "Channel Islands?"
"Well, done…you must be the new Ravenclaw prefect…or perhaps a muggle-born?"
"Gryffindor, actually, but yes, my parents are both muggles."
The woman nodded as she shifted the basket handle into the crook of her arm and held the other out for a handshake.
"I'm Helene Brixton, and welcome to The Inn at Fort Quesnard."
"Hermione Granger…pleased to meet you."
"Have you been to the Channel Islands before?"
"No…I recognized the coat of arms on the flag. Which island is this?"
"We're on the western tip of Aldernay. That's Normandy over there, but you probably already knew that."
"Lovely flowers…are they from your garden?"
"Yes, they are," the woman said with pride. "I was about to set them out inside…could I get you some tea, or coffee?"
"Erm, no thanks, I can wait until breakfast…if that's not far off?"
The older woman looked at her watch. "Thirty minutes, or so…why don't you join me as I put these in water?"
Hermione agreed, and followed the woman back into the stone building. Along the way, and during the flower arranging, the owner of the inn told her some of the history of both the fort and the Islands.
Despite their proximity to the northern coast of France, Aldernay and the other Channel Islands had been under muggle British control for hundreds of years, save for a short period of time during World War II. The original fort had been constructed in 1855 to defend British control of the island chain. When Nazi Germany defeated France in 1940, Churchill and his muggle government decided to abandon the fort and evacuate the islands. But before the muggle Germans could arrive and replace nineteenth-century cannons with modern anti-aircraft batteries, Grindelwald's forces swept in and commandeered the facility. Strong muggle-repelling wards kept the occupation forces from realizing exactly what they were missing, as the German wizards established a magical surveillance post.
Helene Brixton (nee Caldwell) was a muggle-born witch who had been born and raised in Aldernay. The Hufflepuff had just finished her second year, and was home on hols with her muggle family when the evacuation orders came. The young witch helped her family escape to England, then helped them return to their home at war's end in 1945, right after her graduation. She was the first to notice that the fort located just down the road from her parent's house had gained some magical protections…the German wizards had abandoned their facility in haste, and hadn't bothered to bring down the wards, or remove the extensive magical modifications that they had made to the structure.
Sensing an opportunity to live within the wizarding world without leaving her island home, the young witch proposed that the French Ministry of Magic allow the fort to be converted into a holiday resort. This idea found favor with the beleaguered and busy French, especially when the muggle British decided not to garrison troops there after the war.
When Hermione expressed some confusion as to why the French Ministry would have authority over the fort, the Inn owner explained that the Channel Islands were beyond magical sensor range of the British Ministry of Magic. Since keeping the magical world secret was far more important than mirroring muggle political boundaries, and since the Channel Islands were within sensory range of mainland France, the ICW had awarded magical jurisdiction of Aldernay and the other islands to the French Ministry of Magic.
Hermione was quick to think of Gibraltar and Hong Kong as other examples where the reach of muggle Britain likely extended beyond the Ministry of Magic's purview. The inn owner confirmed these guesses, then went on to extol the virtues of living under "foreign" magical jurisdiction. Voldemort's First War had never touched the Islands, and the French Ministry of Magic had a much more relaxed attitude towards not only homosexuality, but to the use of Obliviate and Legimens spells. This was why "Camp Coven" had been held at the Inn for over thirty years, despite the effort required to secretly transport the female prefects away from Hogwarts.
The Coven members were introduced to the staff of "Camp Coven" as they dined on a breakfast mix of British and French cuisine. Aside from Flo (who was both the Transportation and Camp director), there were witches with specific expertise in Occlumency and the Obliviate spell. Breakfast was followed by a lecture/workshop titled "Time Travel for Dummies." The talk laid down the ground rules for time traveling, and instructed the students on how to avoid paradox. Schedules were handed out after the lecture ended, and the prefects were divided by year. The Sixth and Seventh Year Prefects would spend the rest of the first day reviewing their Occlumancy and Obliviate skills with the respective instructors, while the Fifth-Years undertook an extended orientation session with the Camp Director.
Once the group broke up, Flo gathered the new prefects and led them in a tour of the Inn's facilities. Along the way, she entertained questions.
"Are we going to have to wear these white robes all week long?" Pansy asked.
"Your nardy is your Camp uniform," Flo said with a smile. "So the answer is yes, unless you want go skyclad."
"Nardy?"
"Skyclad?"
Flo smiled. They were the same questions every year.
"Your hotel robes are called"nardies," after the Inn's name. As you discovered last night, they're lightweight, wind-resistant, and charmed to keep you warm and dry. There's really no need to wear anything else, as you'll be restricted to the Inn and its private beach, and only come in contact with other Coven members. And that's why skyclad is also an option."
"A clothing-optional resort?" Hermione asked with a smile.
Flo nodded. "Optional indeed. Nobody will force you to go skyclad, but it is important for you new Coven members to get used to casual nudity even if you stay robed...once you return to Hogwarts, you'll find that the Coven's Lair is also...as you say...clothing-optional."
"Nothing optional about clothing in the Private Dining Room," Padma whispered to Hermione.
When the tour was finished Flo shepherded the Fifth-Years into a small library and sat then in a close circle.
"So now that you know about the Inn, I want to know more about all of you," she said. The older witch passed out pieces of parchment, adding, "I'd like each of you to answer the questions that I've passed out."
Hermione looked down at the list of questions and frowned.
"Will our responses be considered confidential?" she asked.
Pansy snorted. "What's a matter, Granger…to embarrassed to admit that your favorite hobby is mentally reorganizing the library shelves?"
"Hush!" admonished the older witch. "First names, ladies, and…yes, Hermione, what happens here in Aldernay stays in Aldernay."
"Oh, darn," snapped Pansy. "And I was so looking forward to recounting last night before a full audience."
"What part?" asked Padma. "When a Gryffindor saved you from drowning in four feet of water?"
"No, the part where that Gryffindor was fluffing her muff and moaning out Scarhead's name in bed."
"Miss Parkinson!" admonished the older witch.
"What happened to first names, Flo?" the Slytherin shot back.
"If you can't behave in the spirit of the Coven's sisterhood, then…well, it's not too late to arrange for your Slytherin badge to be delivered to a different witch."
"Wouldn't that create a paradox?" Hermione asked.
"No, it's been done before," the older witch replied. "So, am I clear, Pansy?"
"Crystal."
"Well, you can go first, then."
"Fine," the Slytherin snapped back. She looked down at the card, and barked out rote replies in a robotic tone of voice.
"My name is Pansy Parkinson. I was born in Lincolnshire. I have one older brother. His name is Edward. My best friend is Tracy Davis. My favorite food is beefsteak. My favorite class is potions. My favorite hobby is raising crups. Something that the others won't know about me is that…my favorite color is yellow. There, I'm done."
Pansy's "secret" caused Padma to snort, Hermione to smile, and Hannah to cough out the word "Hufflepuff!"
"Erm, lovely, dear…thank you," said the discussion leader. She then nodded towards Hermione and smiled.
"Oh, my turn, right," the brown-haired witch said nervously. "Well, My name, of course, is Hermione Granger. I was born and raised in Weybridge…that's in Surrey…I'm an only child, and my best friend is…well, if I had to choose, I'd say that my best friend is Harry Potter."
You mean, "Oh, Harry?" teased Pansy.
Hermione frowned, but continued without a rebuttal. "My favorite foods are raw veggies, my favorite hobby is reading, and something that the others won't know about me is that…hmmm…I once helped smuggle a dragon out of Hogwarts."
"A dragon?" asked Padma. "Oh, that's a story I need to hear."
"Perhaps later," said Flo with a nod. "I should have been clearer about favorite hobbies, though…anything besides reading, dear?"
Hermione bit her lower lip, in thought, and then said, "Well, I did do a lot of knitting over the summer."
"Really?" Flo asked. "I love to knit as well. What were you making?"
"Hats," Hermione said brightly. "I actually have some with me," she added, as she reached for her bag and retrieved two small caps.
"Oh, they're lovely," said Flo, as she admired the tight knots. "Are they for infants?"
"No, for House Elves," Hermione replied reflexively.
There was a moment of silence. Padma and Hannah looked down towards the ground, as if they were embarrassed for their fried. Pansy, in contrast, stared straight at Hermione and began laughing uproariously.
"Ha, ha, ha…still trying to SPEW something that will liberate the house elves! Oh, that's hilarious!"
The group leader frowned, and asked for clarification. Hermione was perfectly happy to get up onto her soapbox as if it were a Sunday in Hyde Park, and to preach on the evils of house elf slavery. That led into some righteous indignation about the fact that they were staying at an Inn that enslaved a house elf, and a scathing commentary that asked why a Coven that worked so hard against female oppression would tolerate house elf enslavement.
The older witch patiently listened to Hermione's sermon, then offered a calm, but devastating rebuttal that brought Hermione to tears. Regardless of right or wrong, house elves needed to magically bond with a house or family. If they didn't, they would be driven insane within two years, and die within three. Dobby was either an exception that proved the rule, or had secretly bonded to Harry Potter. Hermione hadn't bothered to interview the other house elves and collect the data needed to make a rational assessment. And she had decided that she knew what was best for the house elves despite their wishes, and despite their very natures…just like Dumbledore decided what was best for lesbian witches when he messed with their minds and "cured" them of their homosexuality.
Hermione was crushed, embarrassed, and, well…extremely depressed. She had worked so hard over the past year championing a misguided cause that would irreparably harm the beings she thought she was going to save. She had been so certain…and now shown to be so foolish. And naïve. And arrogant in her self-righteousness.
The bushy-haired witch silently muddled through the balance of the day, making no effort to stand up to Pansy's taunting, or to keep her from spreading the news to the older Prefects. She skipped dinner and hid in her room, too ashamed to show her face even when "Muggle Game Night" was announced as that evening's entertainment.
Pansy returned to their shared room later that evening in high spirits…not because she enjoyed playing horrid muggle parlor games, but for the unfettered access she would have to crush what was left of Hermione's self-esteem. Her Gryffindor roommate was feigning sleep, but that didn't keep Pansy from loudly asking whether she was going to dream about humping liberated house-elves on hippogriffs.
Twenty minutes into the assault, Pansy stopped long enough to answer the door. Seeing that it was the Seventh-Year Slytherin prefect made her even happier…verbal assaults were always better when provided in stereo. But her attitude soon changed when the older witch stopped Pansy's snark with the wave of a wand and a Petrificus spell.
Hermione lifted her head out from underneath her pillow and turned to give the Slytherin a querying look.
"Coven comes first," the Seventh-Year said with a shrug. "Pansy needs to learn that before the week is out."
"Erm, thanks," Hermione said.
The Slytherin nodded as she reached for the robe that hung by Hermione's bedside.
"C'mon…up, Hermione," she said, as she placed a room key into the pocket of the robe that she held out open. "We're reshuffling room assignments."
"What?"
"You're going to bunking with Padma," the Slytherin stated. "That will allow me to, erm…help…Pansy re-educate herself."
Hermione raised an eyebrow, but didn't dare ask what the reeducation process might involve.
"Also helps out Nojon," the Slytherin noted.
It took Hermione a few seconds to remember that "Nojon" was Becky's nickname.
"You bunked with Becky last night?"
The Slytherin smiled. "She's a sweet girl, but I'll wager that Hannah puts up with her snoring better than I can."
"Are…are you sure?"
"Yeah, get dressed."
Hermione bit her lip, embarrassed that she was only wearing knickers underneath her sheets. But the Slytherin wasn't moving, so she sucked up her courage, pulled back the sheets, and stood up. The older witch helped Hermione slip into the "nardy," pointed her towards the opened door, and gave her bum a slap.
"Off you go, then."
Hermione jumped at the spank. "Thanks, erm…'Itty,' isn't it?"
The Slytherin laughed as she hefted her robe-covered D-cup breasts.
"Yeah…isn't it obvious?"
Hermione smiled weakly and slipped out into the hallway. As she crossed over towards what had been Hannah's room, she heard a moan coming from down the hall. Hermione turned, and spied Hannah Abbott pinned up against the hallway wall by her lover's body. Robes were opened and hands and lips were roaming over exposed flesh.
Had she felt more up to it, Hermione would have yelled for the two Hufflepuffs to "Get a Room!" Or, she might have stayed and watched, wondering what it would be like if she were Hannah and Becky was Harry. But instead, she slipped quietly into her new room without the other two witches noticing. Once the door was closed she turned and leaned back against it.
A voice from inside the room called out, "Hey, Roomie!"
Hermione turned and smiled at Padma, who was sitting on her bed, reading a book. She sat on the bed opposite and asked, "So is this bed mine, then?"
Padma nodded. "Welcome aboard."
"Thanks," Hermione replied. She then stood back up, slipped off her robe, and turned down the sheets.
"Well, it's been a long day," she stated, looking down towards her knickers. Deciding not to slip them off, she slipped under the covers.
"Almost twice as long as normal, huh?" Padma asked with a grin. "So you've finished the reading for tomorrow already?"
Hermione nodded. "I skimmed over it...it's material that I've covered before, so..."
"You've already learned Occumency?"
"No...I know how to meditate," Hermione replied. "That's something muggles do too, you know."
"So when did you learn how to meditate?"
"Started when I was seven."
"Seven years old? Why? How?"
Hermione snorted as she thought back. "Well, my mum always said that my brain liked to run in seven different directions all at the same time, and that my mouth was never far behind. It was like I couldn't talk fast enough, and I'd let new thoughts and new observations distract me. It was driving my parents batty, so they gave me a book on meditative techniques, and enrolled me in some classes."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"And it made a difference?"
"What, can't you tell?" Hermione asked with a tired smile. "If you think I'm bad now, you should have seen me back then."
Padma nodded, and closed the book.
"Right, so thanks for the warning...I won't be out of sorts when you test out sooner than I do."
"Why would you...it's not like we're in competition, right?"
Padma snorted, and chose not to go down that path.
"Hermione?"
"Yes, Padma?"
"Are you okay?"
"Better now, thanks…didn't fancy putting up with Pansy for the whole week."
"It doesn't matter, you know."
"What doesn't?"
"That you made a mistake…everybody does."
"But…thanks, but S.P.E.W. was more than a simple mistake."
"Perhaps, but…it's what you do after the mistake is revealed that matters."
Hermione stared at Padma for a moment. What her new roommate said made sense, but it needed time to sink in.
"Thanks for everything, Padma."
The Ravenclaw smiled, and reached across to grab Hermione's sheet-covered arm. "You're welcome."
When Hermione saw Padma's eyes dart towards the chamber pot, she asked, "Shall I get the lights, and give you a bit of privacy?"
Padma smiled. "No, you're fine...I was trying to decide between that or making a trip down the hall to test drive that bidet."
Hermione smiled, in spite of her moodiness.
"Did you see how Flo forgot to show us some of the more...stimulating settings?"
"No, I didn't," Padma said with interest. "Care to share?"
"Sure, it's the least I can do for my new roomie."
Padma smiled and slipped out of bed. She looked at the door and asked, "Next question...am I brave enough to walk down the hall in only my knickers?"
Hermione giggled. "Would your brave Gryffindor sister have that problem?"
"You tell me."
"I thought you didn't want to hear any of the sordid details about Parvati's love life."
"True enough." After a moment's pause, Hermione whipped back the sheets and asked, "Would it be any easier if I joined you?"
"No, that's alright…"
"C'mon, Padma," Hermione said, as she grabbed her roommate's hand and led her towards the door. She then opened the door, and stuck her head out for a look.
"Oh, good," she said. "We won't have to step over Becky and Hannah to get there."
Padma was about to ask for a clarifying statement when they both distinctly heard the phrase, "Yes, Mistress," coming through the door of what was now Pansy's and Itty's bedroom.
Hermione and Padma covered their mouths with their hands and dashed down the hall to the loo.
Not so that they could pee or use the bidet, but so that they could laugh out loud without fear of discovery.
oo00OO00oo
Hermione's dreams that night involved much more humiliation than hippogriffs, and the thought of having to face Flo, Pansy and the other Coven members soured her mood the next morning. Not even the forced apology that Pansy delivered under Itty's wary eye could brighten her spirits.
It took the start of the Fifth-Year's Occlumency training to pull Hermione out of her morning funk.
"Right, so first things first," their instructor stated, once the four witches found her ersatz classroom. "My job is to teach you how to keep a secret...both the Coven's, and your own. Unfortunately, this means that by the end of the week, I'm going to end up knowing all of your most embarrassing, humiliating, pervy secrets. It can't be helped...I'll need to jump into your minds to test your defenses, and until those shields are developed, you'll be broadcasting your deepest and darkest thoughts."
"Erm, why would we do that?" asked Hannah.
"Because you won't be able to help it," the instructor explained. "Already, as a result of my warning, each of you are dwelling over something embarrassing in your past, or fretting over whether I'll suss out who makes your knickers moist. It's only natural...if I tell you don't think of something, you'll do it, until you learn not to."
There was silence in the room, as each of the new prefects sorted through their mental closet for skeletons...it really was a natural response.
"Now, some of you are going to think that this isn't fair. Well, it isn't...I can read your minds, but you can't read mine. And that's bad, because it's making all of you tense and nervous, and you can't worry about being tense and nervous and learn how to meditate. So I'm going to help level the playing field."
The instructor pulled the sheet off from a medium-sized pensieve that sat on a table in the center of the room. She explained what it was, and how it functioned, and then made a provocative request.
"Okay, so here's what we're going to do...each of you gets to ask me to show you a personal memory. Any thing that you want to see, just tell me, and I'll pop it into the pensieve and project it."
The four students looked at the instructor as if she were crazy. Or an exhibitionist. Or both.
"Are you serious?" asked Hermione.
"Absolutely...and just for asking, you get to go first."
Hermione's eyes went wide and she blushed. She didn't want to pry into this woman's life, but if it was part of her teaching methods....
As Hermione fretted over what the instructor would see within her brain, she realized what kind of memory would truly level playing field when it came to her most embarrassing moment.
"Erm, hope that this isn't too personal..."
"No worries, dear...I've done this over twenty years of Coven camps, so I've probably already heard it and shown it before."
"Right then....show us your most embarrassing moment."
"Need to be a little more specific."
"Have you ever been caught out masturbating?"
Pansy snorted. Padma took in a sharp breath. Hannah gulped, as the question caused her to think of her own response (and realize that it was now at risk of exposure).
The instructor smiled. "Well, you don't pull punches, do you?" But then, without any hesitation, she extracted a silvery string of mist from her temple and dumped into the basin.
Ten seconds later, the Fifth-Years were watching the projected image of a young witch in the shower as she tickled her cervix with four fingers and a thumb. The image was actually a bit arousing for Hermione...at least until the witch was caught out by a group of older girls and teased mercilessly.
When Pansy went next and asked if the instructor had ever been spanked, Hermione wondered if the other requests would be just as self-referential as hers was. There was plenty more wondering when the answer was yes, and the memory was shown. Instead of seeing a child bent over a parent's lap, they watched with shock and awe as their adult instructor's arse was flogged raw during an intense BDSM scene with a dragonskin-clad dominatrix.
Padma went next, and asked about being caught out naked in public. The instructor laughed and said that she had plenty of memories of public nudity...even public sex (thereby confirming Hermione's suspicions that their instructor was an exhibitionist). When asked for specificity, Padma narrowed it down to an embarrassing, unintentional exposure. She was rewarded with the memory of a Sixth-Year version of their teacher getting pranked, and unknowingly walking naked into the Great Hall.
Hannah went a different route, and asked to see the Instructor's most cherished lovemaking session with a current or recent lover. This caught the older witch off guard...it was a new question, and not one she was ready for. But she was game, and produced a very long string of mist from her temple. The string was converted into a fifteen-minute long lesbian sex-scene that was just as explicit as it was romantic.
A pin dropped from a mile's distance could have been heard when the memory ended...at least, if you were able to ignore some poorly-disguised heavy breathing. Most of the panting was coming from the front of the room, though, as the instructor's cheeks flushed red (this time, due to arousal).
"Erm...right, that concludes the first portion of my lecture," the older witch said, without moving her eyes away from the basin. "Let's take a fifteen minute break."
When there wasn't an immediate rush to the door, the instructor said, "Go on, get a drink, get a snack...spend some time outside, doesn't matter."
The students got the hint and left the room with knowing smiles on their face as their instructor opened her robes and reached for the "replay" rune on the pensieve.