Chapter Text
Seated on the rollback dark leather sofa, Blaise hummed contemplatively, eyes flicking around the small group seated on the sofas and chairs set beside the broad onyx hearth.
The heat of the low burning flames had warmed Hermione’s left side beyond comfortable levels, and so she sipped her frosty Butterbeer to counteract the effect, waiting for Blaise to take his turn.
The motion snagged Blaise’s attention, his dark eyes landing on her from where they’d been lingering thoughtfully on Pansy just to her right.
“Okay.” He pumped his brows once. “Hermione, truth or dare?”
Considering the last dare issued had been for Daphne to—temporarily—spell her school jumper a bright fuchsia color, Hermione didn’t hesitate before replying, “Truth.”
Perhaps Blaise could come up with something interesting finally.
Despite their reputation for secrets and cunning, the game had thus far been centered about petty rule-breaking and teasing, baiting questions designed by askers who already knew the answers.
And it didn’t seem as if the Slytherins were keeping things tame simply for her sake.
The prior round, Blaise had pontificated for nearly a minute before finally admitting that he’d once skinny dipped in the lake. Pansy had screwed up her nose while Theo and Malfoy had shared raised-brow looks, something Hermione had perceived as mockery until Daphne had whispered “Oh my god,” in what sounded like a genuinely scandalized undertone.
While it was interesting to learn more about the Slytherin cohort, what they considered reckless or daring had dramatically softened the thrill of the game.
Though it had, rather unexpectedly, it sent a pang of nostalgia through Hermione. Invasive and unapologetic as it often had been, she missed the camaraderie of her own housemates. Missed the ease of already being known.
But that had been her choice: returning to complete her final year at Hogwarts rather than take the out offered by the Ministry to all who’d fought on the winning side of the war. She didn’t begrudge any of her friends who had opted to ride on the laurels of their, admittedly, heroic actions, but N.E.W.T. scores meant something to her.
They were the final goal she’d been working toward for years; a solid metric by which she would be judged. Her education was more than simply a box ticked. And she’d missed enough milestones to not wish another to pass her by. The choice to go back for her final year had been easy to make.
It had not, however, been a similarly motivated choice for those seated around her. As she understood it, they’d been given two options: return to Hogwarts and demonstrate a good faith attempt at improved mindsets, or submit to various degrees of punishment based on their judged crimes.
She’d felt vindicated by it in the beginning, watching them skulk around the castle they’d once marched through like princes and princesses, but the satisfaction had shifted to pity when she’d slowly begun to connect with them.
Daphne and Theo were first—both outsiders to supporting Voldemort and perfectly friendly when she’d smiled at them across the Charms classroom—and then Blaise, Pansy, and finally, Malfoy.
Despite her willingness to call him by his given name, he’d greeted her with a drawled “Granger” and so she’d maintained their status quo. He’d been the hardest to win over and even now, seemed reserved and resistant to fully joining in, though he’d taken a quiet moment to offer her a mumbled though sincere apology outside their shared Arithmancy classroom.
Now, sitting around the otherwise vacant Slytherin common room as Friday evening flirted with Saturday morning, she found herself comfortable in their company, and in no rush to return to her lonely dorm up in Gryffindor tower.
Seated on the sofa across from her, Blaise dipped his chin, peering over at her with a slow-curling grin. She prepared herself to be underwhelmed.
“When was the last time you had an orgasm?”
Uninspired, as expected, though she got a sense he was proud of himself for the daring of it. He certainly earned a reaction from the others, Malfoy tutting and Pansy giving him a world-weary sigh.
Obligingly, Hermione checked her watch.
“Aw, got to go?” Blaise simpered, sounding pleased with himself.
“Hm?” Hermione glanced up, counting back the hours in her head. “Oh, no. I was just getting a precise answer for you. It’s been four hours, give or take a few minutes. Although that might have been my second to last…” She paused, thinking back. “No…no I think that’s accurate. Four hours since my last orgasm.”
“Second to last?” Daphne blurted, and Hermione turned toward the pretty blonde who sat on the other side of Pansy. “Goodness, how many have you had today?”
“Oi, not your turn,” interjected Blaise but Theo shushed him with a quick elbow to the side.
Hermione tilted her head contemplatively. “Four and a half.”
Theo choked. “Four?” he spluttered, staring at her.
“And a half?” Blaise added, brows furrowing.
So far, sex hadn’t come up in any of their questions nor dares—not even something as casual as daring a chaste kiss or asking about someone’s conquests. She’d assumed it was because they already knew it all, or considered the topic been-there, done-that. But the looks on their faces now suggested that they didn’t consider the topic trite. It piqued her curiosity.
Hermione kept her answer blasé, wanting to gather more data without spooking it away. “Yes, four. And a half because I got a little too close while edging myself this morning, but I stopped before it really took hold so I don’t think it fully counted.”
On the couch beside Theo, Malfoy cleared his throat. The hollows of his cheeks were flushed a light rose and he was staring pointedly down into his firewhisky.
She marked his body language with interest, but then Theo was leaning forward, elbows on his knees as he fixed her with a penetrating stare.
“Wait,” he said. “Wait, wait, wait. You’re claiming you’ve come, essentially, five times today? How? Why?”
“Exams are around the corner,” she said, slightly baffled by how baffled they all seemed to be. “Orgasms are excellent stress relief. And they feel incredible—why wouldn’t I want them?”
“Okay…fair enough...” Theo said slowly, though his brow had creased in bewilderment.
It was Blaise’s turn to lean forward. “But, I don’t understand. You came multiple times? How did the bloke possibly manage to last long enough to—” He cut himself off, perhaps realizing the statement he was inadvertently making about himself.
“There are ways to build your stamina up,” she told him kindly. “And for what it’s worth, most of my partnered orgasms aren’t from typical sex.”
She knew Hogwarts didn’t have any sort of formal—or informal—sexual education courses but judging by the looks given to her from all sides, she was suddenly worried that no one was doing any supplemental reading of their own, let alone practical experimentation. She could feel the burden of education slowly settling itself on her shoulders, a sensation she was well accustomed to.
“...and by typical sex, I mean penis in vagina,” she said patiently. “Or, if you prefer less clinical vernacular, cock in cunt. Or you can just call it penetrative sex, which is a more inclusive definition since it allows for dildos and includes anal sex, whether hetero- or homosexual in nature.”
“Merlin and Morgana, Granger,” Pansy griped, crossing her legs at the knee and inadvertently bumping Hermione’s shin with her foot in the process.
Hermione held up a hand in a peacekeeping gesture, pulling her legs up to sit cross-legged on the sofa to give Pansy more room, pushing a hand down on her center of skirt, mindful not to give the boys across from them a flash of her knickers.
“I’m just trying to answer thoroughly,” she said mildly.
“No one would ever accuse you of brevity,” Pansy muttered at the same time Theo asked, “But wait, who gave them to you? What with Weasley and Potter gone, and no one else…well, you’re always studying or with us.”
Theo brows were knit as if she’d begun speaking another language and he was doing his best to follow along.
“I gave them to myself,” she explained, and then, because the boys on the couch were all staring at her like dumbstruck fools, she turned to the girls beside her. “Sometimes those are the best, aren’t they?” she added conspiratorially, winking.
They looked just as nonplussed as the boys.
She deflated slightly, but it was their prerogative if they didn’t want to touch themselves, so she tried to loop them back into the conversation if they felt more comfortable receiving pleasure from someone else. Perhaps they weren’t so much prudes—affectionately—but simply more traditionally minded.
“Partnered ones are excellent, too, of course. It’s always wonderful when you find a person who’s sexually compatible with you, and even better when they’re willing to teach and be taught.”
Daphne shrugged an unenthused shoulder. Pansy sipped her drink.
Ah.
She gave them an understanding smile.
“Ron was dreadful to start as well,” she told them sympathetically. “But once we figured out what worked for us, it was really excellent. He’s very food motivated, if you know what I mean.”
The blank stares indicated that they did not.
Just how sexually repressed were these Purebloods?
“He liked to eat?” she tried.
More blank faces.
No humorous turns of phrase for them, then.
“He went down on me a lot,” she said plainly.
When only Blaise made a sound of understanding, she gasped.
“No,” she said, aghast, gaping at Daphne and Pansy. “Please tell me someone’s gone down on you before. Oral sex? A mouth between your legs?”
Pansy pinched her lips together, looking prim, but Daphne was pink cheeked and a little awestruck.
“You don’t mean…” She squirmed, nose wrinkling as she gestured to her lap. “There?”
Hermione nodded fervently. “I absolutely do. Merlin, I can’t believe you’ve never…gods, there’s nothing like having your clit licked and sucked on. It’s one of my absolute favorite things.”
Malfoy slapped his thighs in a brisk, that’s the end of that gesture and made to stand up.
“Right.” It was the first word she’d heard from him since the game had begun half an hour earlier, when he’d done nothing but raise a non-participatory eyebrow when Pansy had tried to get him to join in. “I’m done.”
His interjection reminded her of his connection to one of the tragically un-licked girls beside her. She fixed him with a steady glare, rich with reprimand.
“Oh no you don’t, Draco Malfoy,” she said in her bossiest tone. “You are not excused—it seems you need this lesson most of all.”
His jaw clenched but, obediently, he regained his seat.
“Why’s that?” he drawled, likely going for unaffected but instantly damned by his deepening blush.
Hermione gestured with an open palm at Pansy. “Why am I learning that your girlfriend has never had her cunt licked?”
“Salazar’s fucking tits,” Pansy protested. “Leave him out of it.”
“Why?” Hermione demanded, turning to her. “Don’t you want him to learn?” When Pansy’s mouth cinched into that small line again—something Hermione took for begrudging agreement—she turned a contemplative gaze on Malfoy. “I’m sure he’d be adequate at it.”
“Adequate,” Malfoy repeated, offended, but she hummed and turned back to Pansy.
“It’s really not hard, and he’s always been good in class. I’m sure he’d manage well enough—though you’d need to be clear with him about what feels good. They really need all the help they can get in that department, to no fault of their own. Feedback is essential both ways, actually.”
“I don’t—” Pansy spluttered, but then huffed and tried again with more composure. “We’re not dating, actually, so him learning things wouldn’t affect me at all. He can leave, for all I care.”
Hermione’s brows lifted. “You’re not dating? But I caught you snogging in the corridor two nights ago.”
Theo whooped, the tone a perfect blend of taunt and boyish praise. Hermione ignored him, far more interested in the expression slowly solidifying on Pansy’s face before she flicked her gaze to the side.
Hermione followed it to find Malfoy glaring daggers at Pansy. Pansy made a little hum of acknowledgement and when Hermione looked at her again, she was smiling a private smile.
“Definitely not dating,” Pansy reiterated. “We’re just sexually frustrated. Though, not for each other.”
“Pans,” Malfoy warned.
Pansy wet her lips then pressed them together, heeding him without looking away from Hermione.
“Fine,” she said curtly, leashed for the time being. “Hermione, it’s your turn.”
“Hang on.” Hermione waved a dismissive hand. Sod the droll game—now that she’d found a thread to tug on, Hermione couldn’t help but want to see how it unraveled. “You two just…snog each other and, what? Think of other people?”
“Don’t sound so scandalized, Granger,” Pansy sniped. “Not after that little performance of yours.”
“I’m not scandalized,” Hermione retorted, rolling her eyes. “I’m genuinely curious. You’d rather kiss someone else than try and kiss the person you really want to?”
Pansy’s attention dropped to her drink. “Apparently.” She raised it and took a hearty swig.
Hermione marked this melancholic response with an apologetic twist of her mouth.
“Oh. Do they not go here? Or is it someone who does but you’re not—” She doubled-back when she saw a flash of panic cross Pansy’s face. “Nevermind. Sorry. You don’t have to tell me.”
“I won’t be telling you,” Pansy said, expression safely back to haughty. “Either with your permission or not. Now come on, let’s play.”
But Hermione couldn’t be less interested in continuing the game when there was an actual unsolved puzzle in front of her. She turned her gaze to Malfoy.
“What about you?” she asked him. “Does the object of your sexual frustration go here? Or am I not allowed to know that, with or without express permission, either?”
“Hadn’t considered telling you, no,” he drawled, swirling his glass with a loose wrist. The act seemed purposefully casual, so she distrusted it.
“Why not?” she pressed. “I’m an excellent confidant. And if it’s someone who goes here, I’m sure I could help figure out an action plan for bringing you two together.” She turned to Pansy. “Same goes for you, for what it’s worth. Don’t disqualify yourself on someone else’s behalf. Give them the chance to make their own decision about you.”
“Very preachy, Granger,” Pansy commended sarcastically. “And a very Gryffindor mindset.”
“Sounds more calculating and cunning to me,” Theo put in.
Blaise hummed his agreement. “Ambitious, too.”
“Sod the both of you.” Pansy finished her drink and handed the empty glass to Daphne. Daphne took it, leaning to place on the end table beside her without looking away from Pansy.
“She might actually be able to orchestrate something,” Daphne said to Pansy, tone careful. “Especially considering—”
Pansy tsked, cutting her off. “Fucking Circe, fine. I’ll go. Draco.” She fixed Malfoy with a meaningful look. “Truth or dare? And no bowing out this time—choose or I’ll choose for you and dose you with Veritaserum.”
His jaw ticked, evidently knowing which question would form the shape of Pansy’s truth.
“Dare,” he said, sounding like he deeply regretted not getting up and leaving as he’d tried to previously.
Pansy’s lips curled into a wicked grin. “Excellent choice. I dare you to take Hermione up on her offer.”
Malfoy froze for a beat then narrowed his eyes at Pansy. “You’re a vindictive bitch sometimes, Parkinson,” he informed her icily.
“Just say thank you, Draco,” Pansy advised.
Hermione frowned, confused at both the dare and Malfoy’s vehement reaction to it. “Wait, what offer?”
Malfoy’s eyes flicked to hers with a jolt. He licked his lips then had another sip of his firewhisky. Pansy made a sweeping gesture with her hand, encompassing their little circle.
“Your lessons, Hermione. Do keep up.”
“When did I offer lessons?” She certainly wasn’t against the concept but hadn’t thought she’d been that explicit.
“When haven’t you,” Malfoy mumbled into his glass. She flicked an unimpressed glance in his direction.
“You implied you’d be open to teaching Malfoy how to—” Pansy hesitated for the barest second. “—eat.”
“You can call it cunnilingus, if you prefer,” Hermione offered, then refocused. “But…yes, I suppose I did.”
Malfoy stared at her as if she’d just declared herself not only a secret Pureblood but also a die-hard supporter of Voldemort. She didn’t think it was truly that shocking that she’d want to teach him a thing or two, even if the subject happened to be rather personal.
“Well?” Pansy prompted, when Malfoy had done nothing but stare.
He blinked. “But she’s with Weasley. She just said.”
Hermione waved that away. “Months ago. We’re not together anymore. I’m perfectly available.”
Something flashed across Malfoy’s face, there and gone before Hermione could name the emotion, and then his cool impassivity was back.
“What’s the penalty if I decline to complete the dare?” he asked, eyes finally shifting from Hermione to Pansy.
“I’ll hex your bollocks off,” said Pansy with a smile. “And—even more painful a consequence, I’m sure—bone-deep, soul-piercing, life-long regret.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, then sniffed and looked away, up to the portrait of Merlin which was hung over the fireplace. His upturned gaze reminded Hermione of the way her grandmother looked at paintings depicting Christ. With reverence; looking for guidance. Seeking inner peace.
But unlike the settled, calm expression Nana wore after turning away from her ponderings, when Malfoy turned his face back to her, it was full of Slytherin cunning. His body language had shifted back into his usual suave indifference and when the edge of his mouth lifted with a smugness unique to him, she knew he thought he had her beat.
“I’ll only agree if we do it right here,” he said, indicating the two couches barely separated by a rug. “Right now.”
She almost laughed but instead held his eye, willing herself not to give away the flash of heat the suggestion had sent through her. She’d always been a bit of a show-off and had learned that the arena was not confined only to scholastic expertise.
“Fine with me,” she told him easily.
He tried to cover his surprise but failed. Surprising him—proving him wrong—had always held a specific sort of satisfaction for her, and so it was gratifying on a new level to see him break his nonchalant façade.
The flash of surprise was quickly concealed back under a skeptical expression. “What?”
“I agree to the terms. You know how highly I value education, after all—for everyone.”
“For everyone?” Theo repeated, voice hopeful.
Hermione was grateful for an excuse to look away from Malfoy’s unblinking stare.
“Anyone who wants to learn is welcome to observe,” she told Theo. “It needn’t only be Malfoy who benefits.”
Blaise and Theo exchanged a glance, Theo raising his brows and Blaise responding with a salacious waggle of his own.
“You’d let me give you an…an orgasm here?” Malfoy gestured around the space with an open palm. His tone was incredulous. “In front of everyone?”
Given that it was exactly what he’d negotiated, it seemed he still hadn’t learned the power of words and their consequences. Mentally, she tutted at him.
“I’ll let you try to give me an orgasm,” she corrected. “Either you succeed and I come, or you fail and I get the satisfaction of that.” She grinned at his second loss of composure, this time a flicker of affront. “It’s a win-win for me, really.”
“But, in front of them?” He pointed to Blaise and Theo, as if she’d misunderstood his protestations. “Seriously?”
“I’m not ashamed of my sexuality,” she said, uncowed. “And that includes my kinks.”
“You like being watched?” Theo’s brows went up. “Fucking hell.”
Hermione shrugged an unbothered shoulder. “Yes. And I like watching. It turns me on, and it’s interesting. But I’m a naturally curious person so I understand that’s not necessarily how everyone approaches sex.”
Pansy snorted, the tone was derisive enough that drew Hermione’s attention.
The allusion that she and Malfoy were using each other as some sort of sexual stand-in hadn’t left her mind, and she wondered if perhaps his issue was her participation and not the lesson itself. It certainly would be a leap to go from one girl to the next, if Malfoy wasn’t used to a bit of promiscuity.
“Or maybe you’d rather Pansy be the recipient?” Hermione offered. “I’d be happy giving you verbal instruction, if that makes you both more comfortable?”
Pansy’s brows knit as she flicked her gaze from Hermione to Malfoy. His expression was inscrutable as he met Pansy’s eye, though it seemed their stare-off was closer to a game of chicken than actual, willing consideration.
In the resulting silence, Daphne raised her hand, tilting forward to peer at Hermione from around Pansy. “If you’re open to volunteers…” She waggled her hand again, indicating herself as a tribute.
Pansy whipped her head toward Daphne. “What?” she demanded. “With Draco, Daphne?”
“Hey—” Malfoy protested at Pansy’s skeptical emphasis on his name, but Daphne shook her head quickly.
“Oh, no—sorry.” She was a bit pink but looked determined in a way Hermione had never seen her before. “I meant with you, actually.”
It was the last thing Hermione had expected.
“You want me to go down on you?” she asked, trying to keep her surprise out of her tone. The bluntness toward Pansy and Malfoy notwithstanding, she didn’t actually want to embarrass anyone.
Daphne’s eyes flicked to Malfoy for the briefest check before fixing firmly back on Hermione’s. “Erm, yes. But actually, I meant that I want you to teach me how to do it. To you.”
“Why would you need to know how to—” began Theo, but then he faltered. “Oh.”
Daphne’s blush darkened until the tops of her cheeks were flushed red with it. It brought out the green in her hazel eyes which, along with her short blonde hair and thoughtful, ardent expression, Hermione found extremely appealing.
She’d only ever been with another woman once and they’d only gone as far as snogging and playing with each other’s breasts while grinding on one another’s thighs, so she was genuinely pleased for the chance to expand her own personal knowledge base.
“I’d be honored,” Hermione told Daphne sincerely, smiling. Daphne beamed, capturing her bottom lip between her teeth and immediately drawing Hermione’s eye to it.
“Damn, Daph.” Blaise sounded impressed. “Way to go after what you want. That was ambitious and you didn’t tell yourself no without trying first. Salazar and Godric would both be proud.”
“You’re not subtle,” Pansy informed him flatly.
The broad grin he flashed at her faded to a wary line when Pansy stood and approached him. “Wait, what are you going to do to me? Get back over there.”
“Calm down, I’m just making space,” she told him, kicking Malfoy’s shin until he huffed and got up, letting her take his seat beside the arm of the sofa next to Blaise. “I don’t exactly need a front-row seat for that lesson.”
Malfoy shoved his hands in his pockets, expression unsure as he looked between Daphne and Hermione across the rug from him. “You’re not actually going to…just like that? She asks and—here?”
“You’re free to leave,” Hermione told him, a little amused at his bafflement. “As is anyone else. No judgement.”
“I’m certainly staying,” Theo declared, grabbing a cushion and placing it over his lap with a grin. “Precautionary measures,” he said, patting it.
“As if I haven’t been subjected to your inappropriate erections a thousand times over,” Blaise snorted. He batted the pillow to the floor. “Why hide it now?”
Theo gestured to the girls. “Common courtesy?”
“That’s considerate of you, Theo, but I don’t mind if you get an erection,” Hermione said. “It’s perfectly natural.”
“Maybe I mind,” Pansy snipped.
Hermione gave her a look. “Do you?”
Pansy considered the boys beside her in a slow assessment. “They’re not my first choice but I have eyes, I suppose.”
“Hear that?” Theo elbowed Blaise playfully. “I think that means she thinks we’re fit.”
“You’re idiots,” Pansy said. “But you’re aesthetically pleasing enough that sometimes I forget.”
“Pans.” Blaise pressed a hand to his heart, pretending to be touched. “Merlin, warn a bloke first.”
“Trust me, I promise not to do anything to you without ample warning,” she told him dryly.
“No need.” He grinned. “You’re more than welcome to, any time you get the urge.”
She glared at him, tucking her feet up under her bum and crossing her arms, though she couldn’t keep the entirety of her smile contained. He chuckled.
Hermione turned to Daphne. “You’re sure you’re comfortable doing this here?” she asked. “I’d be happy to go somewhere private, if not.”
Malfoy made a squawk of outrage. “She gets privacy?”
Hermione ignored him, feeling a thrum of arousal when Daphne nodded without hesitation.
“Here’s fine. It actually sounds sort of…” She flushed darker. “…sexy.”
Hermione was half tempted to reward her immediately for the honesty but she didn’t want to push the bounds too far right away. As far as she could glean based on their conversation, it was possibly Daphne had almost no experience whatsoever.
“Alright. Here, then,” Hermione agreed. “Now?”
“Yes.” Daphne bit the corner of her lip, eyes tracking over Hermione. “How should I…? Where would you like me, please?”
The good manners went right between Hermione’s legs. She liked playing docile as much as the next girl, but there was something evocative about having that sweetness turned on her.
“Would you be comfortable here?” Hermione asked, indicating the floor in front of her. “It will give you a lot of control and also make it easy for everyone to see.”
Daphne slipped down to the floor without hesitation, shuffling over until she was kneeling in front of Hermione. “Like this?”
“Mm-hm.” It was perhaps too forward to praise her outright, even though the words were on the tip of her tongue, so Hermione settled with a murmured, “That’s perfect.”
Slowly, as if approaching a skittish deer, Hermione uncrossed her legs, placing one on either side of Daphne. Daphne observed this with a bitten lip, eyes darting to the darkness beneath Hermione’s school skirt before flicking politely to a knee. Adorable.
A shifting of movement caught Hermione’s eye, and she glanced up to where Malfoy was still standing in the middle of the rug, his expression a delightful cross between disbelief and intense focus.
“Would you like to get a better look?” she offered, patting the empty cushion beside her. “You could sit here.”
He let out his breath in a short burst, hands shifting in his pockets as he finally looked away.
She wondered for a moment if he’d leave, but then he was striding to the adjacent armchair and sinking down into it, clasping his hands together over his lap. His expression was tight, and the hollows of his cheeks were still flushed.
From his position, he’d be able to see exactly what Daphne would do to her.
It gave Hermione a little thrill.
If only his father could see him now, about to watch as a pretty Pureblood girl learned how to eat Muggleborn cunt. But perhaps watching was acceptable—at least, more acceptable than doing it would be.
What it would take for him to get on his knees for her?