Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Mudbloods at Hogwarts	By : Gandalfs-Beard Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 291248 -:- Recommendations : 10 -:- Currently Reading : 17
Disclaimer: All rights to Harry Potter belong to Rowling and the relevant corporations--though I doubt they want anything to do with this one. I make no money from the publication of this work.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
Braced for Impact

Despite still being dosed with pain potions on his second night in the hospital wing, Severus Snape had been awake all night, having turned down Pomfrey’s offer of a sleeping draught. He had slept all the daylight hours away on Saturday following a horrible Friday night having a number of bones in his legs regrown with Skelegro - but at least that had given him time to think.
The knowledge that Potter was currently enduring a marathon session being shagged by every house-elf in the castle brought him some measure of solace. But even that and the promise of her further debasement wasn’t enough to satisfy Snape that justice was truly being met. Snape had known it the moment he had first set eyes on Harry Potter - he was James Potter all over again.
Permanently transforming Harry into a girl, and making her a Receptacle, was a good first step along the path to vengeance, and having the power to punish her and her little girlfriend for the next seven years, making them suffer every humiliation known to man, had been very gratifying indeed.
But somehow Potter had still managed to orchestrate the attack upon Snape despite her captivity; the magic of the Compulsion Collars wasn’t quite as complete as many believed it to be. The magic of the collars left the mind intact even when it forced the body to act, and as far as Snape was concerned that was usually a plus.
Inflicting punishment on someone who submitted either willingly or unwittingly was an utter waste of time. Where was the satisfaction in that? And as far as Snape was concerned, the “punishment” that Potter was currently undergoing was nothing more what was expected of any Receptacle: to be available at any time for any and all uses, sexual or otherwise.
But something that Dumbledore had said was still bothering Snape, raising the question of whether Potter had the potential to escape. Given the events leading to his current stay in the hospital wing, unlike Dumbledore, Snape considered it a very distinct possibility despite the odds being stacked against Potter.
Potter had clearly inherited not only her father’s looks and his arrogance, but his devious, cunning nature as well, and his ability to charm the knickers off any witch. If anyone could manage to escape the confines of a magically warded cage and Hogwarts, it was Potter.
Snape wanted a real punishment, one which would stick to Potter, a curse that no matter where she went would be a constant reminder of the price of being a Potter... and that little groupie of Potter’s would learn the price of being Potter’s girlfriend.
A deliciously evil idea had come to Snape in the wee hours of Saturday morning while he was still wracked with agony from his reknitting bones, and Potter and Granger wouldn’t even have to be in his presence for the unbreakable curse he was considering inventing. Snape was no Dark Lord, but his knowledge of the Dark Arts was vast, and inventing curses was second nature for him.
And now it was early Sunday morning, before dawn, with no Pomfrey to interfere and healed enough to perform the spell. As far as Dumbledore was concerned - well it was better to ask forgiveness than permission. And Snape had no doubt that ultimately Dumbledore would approve, as the unbreakable curse would cause Potter and Granger no physical damage and would in fact make it easier to recapture them should they indeed manage to escape.
Snape gathered his energy, all his bitterness, all his rage, and all of his loathing for James Potter - the wizard who had stolen Lily from him - and he channeled it all into the spell, and with his wand he wove a complex pattern of golden filaments of light in the thin air.
The lattice of golden filaments turned a deep blood red which split into two nearly identical webs of light when he uttered two incantations - one for each young witch.
“Nihil Vestimenta Perpetuus, Harry James Potter! ... Nihil Vestimenta Perputuus, Hermione Jean Granger!”
Snape’s plummy voice - a voice which belied his ignoble roots - carried through the dark hospital wing; the glowing images of the two spell matrices faded from sight as they shifted beyond the realm of visible wavelengths and sank into the tiled floor, heading downstairs towards their intended targets.
Snape let out a deep sigh of contentment, a thin smile creeping to his lips. Even if Potter did manage to convince a soft-hearted witch like McGonagall or Pomfrey to help her and Granger escape, it would be intriguing to see how far they would get without any clothes.
~o0o~
The enchanted ceiling grew lighter as dawn approached. Silence reigned in the cage while Hermione and Harriet contemplated Snape’s role in the current state of affairs.
Hermione was sitting with her back against the bars, her bottom and the back of her splayed legs sticky from the spreading lake of semen on the marble floor as it continued oozing from Harriet’s slit. Harriet, who had it even worse, was now completely flat on her back (her upper torso previously having been twisted so that her head rested on one elbow) in the sperm, a thick layer of cum coating her body from her spread thighs to the top of her head.
Thinking about poor Harriet inundated with semen again, Hermione peered down at her own front, surprised to see that her breasts and upper chest were no longer randomly splattered with cum from the feedings the house-elves had given her. That’s when Hermione realised her boobs were still bigger. She glanced over at Harriet again and noticed hers were still larger too.
They weren’t huge by a long shot - perhaps as big as the average breast size of the girls between third and fourth year - but on Hermione’s and Harriet’s smaller frames, they looked bigger than they were. Hermione wondered if this was a permanent change and hoped that they wouldn’t grow too much as she got older, never having been interested in having massive mammaries as a fair number of other girls seemed to be.
Being of average breast size was perfectly acceptable to Hermione. And as she had come to the conclusion that she much preferred being with girls now, Harriet in particular, Hermione hoped that Harriet’s boobs wouldn’t grow over-large either.
Then Hermione sighed, reckoning that they would both continue to lactate and wondered if that was a permanent feature as well. It seemed highly likely that this was in part designed not merely to please the house-elves, but to heap more indignities upon her and Harriet. No doubt they would now both be expected to breast-feed anyone who demanded it.
Though they might not be so inclined if they were stinky and dirty. And that was when Hermione noticed that she smelled fresh and clean - other than the faint scent of semen - and that her hair was clean and back to normal. Of course! The house-elves had magically cleaned her. They wouldn’t have wanted to suck on the nipples of someone who was filthy, urine soaked, and spattered across her chest with scattershot dollops of semen.
That was a bit of a relief for Hermione, but for poor Harriet there was none except that her belly was slowly but surely deflating. Hermione wondered if they would get around to cleaning her up too, or if they would just leave her like that. She had a horrible feeling that things were going to go from bad to worse for Harriet this week up through the Shokushu event planned for next Saturday.
Hermione was about to say something to Harriet, then realised that she had dozed off again and thought better of waking her. Harriet even managed to sleep through the arrival of the students in the Great Hall for breakfast. But a number of students began lining up at the front of the cage grinning at Hermione, Ron at the front of the queue of course.
“Oi, Hermione,” said Ron, “Get over here!”
“What? What’s going on?” Hermione moaned as she automatically began levering her backside up the rear of the cage with her widely spread feet, the gooey house-elf semen oozing down her bum and the back of her legs. It was even more difficult to get up into a standing position with her hands cuffed behind her back than it was when they were shackled to her chain.
“You’re feeding us this morning, before the house-elves give you breakfast,” Ron chortled, pointing at a new sign near the top of the cage. “It says, ‘Milk Me.’”
“Of course it does,” Hermione muttered under her breath as she shuffled towards the front of the cage, the pool of house-elf cum clinging stickily to her bare feet with every step.
“And keep your mouth shut!” Ron commanded. “Nobody wants to hear you complaining.”
Hermione scowled as she pressed her front against the bars until her breasts poked through, available for all comers. Ron smirked as he kneaded her boobs a few times until they squirted.
“Hmm... All ready to go,” he said, grinning. “Your titties are bigger too. Wicked!”
Then Ron encircled one of her pink peaks with his lips as he continued squeezing her boobs. Hermione grit her teeth as her nipple hardened in Ron’s humid mouth and he began sucking greedily, slurping as he milked her.
“Oi, mate! Budge over! Don’t hog the Receptacle,” said Seamus, “It’s got two o’ them things.”
Already warm, Hermione’s cheeks grew hotter at being referred to as an “it.” Without taking his mouth off Hermione’s nipple, Ron let go of her other breast and shifted to make room for Seamus. And then there were two wet mouths engulfing her tender nipples, each thirstily gulping her breast-milk as the hands belonging to those mouths fondled her breasts.
Of course Scabbers thought now was a wonderful time to scrabble around inside Hermione’s vagina and then make an appearance, poking his head through her vulva to nibble and lick her clit. Hermione wriggled and squirmed as the tingly sensations radiated outward from her most sensitive regions, spreading through her body.
Every time Hermione thought that her feelings of mortification couldn’t get worse, she was proven wrong. Despite all the degradation she and Harriet had endured thus far, each new humiliating indignity brought with it a fresh and even deeper sense of shame.
Hermione’s pink nipples glistened with saliva when the next two boys - an older Gryffindor named McLaggen and the Hufflepuff, Ernie MacMillan - took Ron and Seamus’s place. McLaggen waved his wand, muttering, “Tergeo,” and the saliva vanished.
“I don’t really want Weasley or Finnigan’s spit in my mouth now, do I?” he said, seeing Hermione’s puzzled expression.
Then he and Ernie each grasped a boob and squeezed, shooting a thin stream of milk out of both nipples before they planted their lips on Hermione’s breasts and began sucking. McLaggen’s grip was more painful than Ernie’s, and he seemed to be doing his best to suck as hard as he could, flicking the nipple with his tongue and giving it little bites. Meanwhile Scabbers continued licking and nibbling the little bean in between the top of her pussy lips.
Hermione bit her lip, struggling against the current of bliss rushing through her veins. No, no, no, she screamed in her head. This couldn’t be happening! She didn’t want to look like she was enjoying it in front of everyone. She wasn’t enjoying it! Her body was betraying her yet again!
But Hermione couldn’t fight it off; she was swept away by the storm of ecstasy and it took every ounce of her will to keep the moan escaping her lips as quiet as possible as she shuddered, bathing Scabbers with her juices. The damp rat scurried back inside her vagina and her slit closed again as he began lapping her wet inner-walls with his little rat tongue.
Hermione’s cheeks burned crimson with shame when she heard Seamus saying, “Look at tha’ little slut squeal. It can’t get enough of this,” even through the bitterly blissful haze fogging her brain.
When McLaggen and MacMillan had finished milking Hermione, Draco Malfoy and Goyle took their places. Malfoy used the same cleaning spell that McLaggen had used to vanish the slobber from her teats.
“Nice udders, Granger,” Draco chortled gleefully as he grabbed a handful of breast and gave it a painful yank, milk squirting from Hermione’s nipple. “Much better, I must say!”
Hermione squeaked through gritted teeth when Draco tugged her breast again before licking her pink areola and wrapping his lips around her nipple. Goyle forcefully grasped Hermione’s other breast and give her hard little rose bud a painful bite before he began slurping down her milk.
Hermione hoped that the line of students waiting to grope her breasts and milk them would ease up when she smelled bacon wafting through the Great Hall, but to her dismay, they kept at it, each taking a turn sucking her nipples before eating breakfast. Even some of the girls from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff joined in the fun.
Most of the Slytherin girls preferred calling Hermione a Mudblood slut, though it appeared that Daphne Greengrass and several older Slytherin girls had decided to give it a go when they approached and Pansy yelled out at them, “milk the cow good!”
Hermione’s face felt like it had burst into flame though when they simply squeezed and tugged her boobs, squirting her breast-milk into their cups of tea, and one of the older Slytherin girls even kept yanking her teats for a while, filling an entire large creamer to take back to the Slytherin table. They were literally treating her like a cow.
The milking of Hermione’s breasts eased up after breakfast had finished, leaving them a bit bruised and her nipples feeling really sore. But quite a few stragglers hung out to grope them and suck on them for a bit longer.
Hermione glanced at the house-elf semen covered Harriet, who had managed to sleep through it all in the sea of sperm. Hermione sighed, her knees wobbling. She wanted to go and sit back down, but with students wandering in and out of the Great Hall, her Compulsion Collar kept her standing upright, pressing her front against the bars, her nipples growing more and more inflamed with every suck.
Hermione was feeling quite miserable when Midge and a few more house-elves arrived around eleven o’clock. She was surprised to see them, and more than a bit angry.
“So, back for another go at Harriet then, are you?” she snapped.
“Oh, no miss,” said Midge cheerfully, “We is back to be cleaning up mess we made.”
“Oh! Er... sorry,” said Hermione, turning a bit pink. “Does that include Harriet, and my bum too?” she asked hopefully.
“Yes miss. Harry Potter and Hermione Granger must be clean for Centaurs.”
“Erm...” Hermione squeaked, almost afraid to ask, having a horrible feeling she already knew the answer. “Why do we need to be clean for the Centaurs?”
“Hermione Granger is always asking funny questions,” Midge giggled. “Harry Potter is training with Centaurs today, and Centaurs is liking Receptacles to be clean before mating. And you is helping training.”
Hermione groaned, her horrible feeling confirmed; Centaurs were notorious in mythology for kidnapping and raping women. She was also feeling very angry that Harriet wasn’t even being given a full day to recover, but tried her hardest to keep it in check, knowing it would be no use yelling at the house-elves who were just following orders. Her stomach began growling though, as if it were giving voice to her feelings.
“Hermione Granger is being hungry,” said Midge, looking apologetic. “House-elves is not feeding miss Granger this morning - Centaurs be feeding miss Granger instead. They is planning big feast with much food all day and all night.”
Hermione shut her eyes and tried to breathe slowly to calm herself before she began hyperventilating. In through the nose, out through the mouth...
~o0o~
Sirius Black crawled out of the little tent and deeply breathed in the cold crisp morning air, looking out across the Scottish moor. He felt much better with a full belly and a good night’s sleep. He hadn’t been able to find any empty warehouses or buildings the night before and had ended up nicking a tent and a sleeping bag from a little shop which sold outdoor supplies. Then he’d found a nice spot on the moor to set up camp and cast a number of concealing spells to hide it.
Black considered his next move - finding Remus. He supposed he could try and apparate now that he was rested, but he was still dangerously weakened and underweight after successfully undergoing his near starvation regimen to escape Azkaban, and was still at risk of splinching himself.
Black sighed, thinking that perhaps taking muggle transport would be for the best. He had spotted a bus depot in Inverness, and he could probably find a long distance bus to Yorkshire. The only issue was, had his escape been discovered yet? If it had been reported to the Ministry, there was a good chance that the muggles would be notified too.
There was only one way to be certain, and that meant another visit to The Frog on the Lily Pad to see if there were any Daily Prophets lying around. A moment after his decision had been made, Black trotted into town as an Irish Wolfhound, tracing his way back to the wizard pub.
When he found it again, Black thought it worth taking the risk; he transformed back into human form and disillusioned himself. Cautiously, he cracked open the back door of the pub, and seeing the kitchen empty he slipped inside, making his way to the bar.
It was still fairly early in the morning, and there weren’t many wizards in the pub yet, just the daytime barkeeper checking supplies. Black held his breath and halted, rooted to his spot when the front door of the pub opened.
“Mornin’ love,” the barkeeper called out to the young witch who had just entered the pub. “Chef isn’t in yet. Ye migh’ as well check the kitchen supplies till ‘e gets here.”
“Alright then, Dougal,” said the witch. “I brought in today’s papers - they were on the doorstep.”
“Just set ‘em on the end o’ the bar Maggie. I’ll put ‘em on the stand in a bit.”
Maggie placed the stack of Daily Prophets on the bar and headed for the kitchen. Black squashed himself against the wall, hoping she didn’t run into him. Once it was just him and the bartender again, Black crept across the floor quietly to peer at the front page of the Daily Prophet.

There was no headline above the fold about an escaped prisoner where one might think a notorious mass murderer who had broken out of Azkaban would be, but Black really needed to see below the fold and check the inside, just in case. He decided to wait for a bit, hoping for the barkeeper to go to the bathroom or step out for some reason.
As luck would have it, Sirius Black only had to wait ten minutes before Dougal had to go into the storeroom to bring out a case of butterbeer. Black snatched a paper from the top of the pile and quickly cast an invisibility spell on it. He silently crept to the front door and slipped out before the bartender returned.

Just for good measure Black strolled by a newsagent’s stand and waited until the muggle manning the booth had his back turned. Black seized a copy of The Guardian and darted into a nearby alley before anyone noticed a newspaper floating in midair. Again Black cast an invisibility spell, and then he made his way back to his camp on the moor.
Black perused both papers from front to back before he was satisfied that his escape hadn’t been noticed yet. But he reckoned he only had another twenty four hours at best before the jig was up. Black packed up his tent and and sleeping bag, and stuffed them into the rucksack which he had also stolen.
From there, Black made his way back to town and headed for the bus depot. It was a simple task to confund the ticket clerk manning the window selling bus tickets and convince the clerk to give him a ticket for the next bus heading to London with a stop in Yorkshire...
~o0o~
Harriet woke again shortly before noon and was pleasantly surprised to find herself clean and dry from head to toe, no longer drenched in sticky house-elf semen, and was equally pleased that her belly was flat, no longer bloated with their cum.
She was still achey and sore all over and inside though, Harriet discovered when she heaved herself into a sitting position and wriggled her bum and spread legs around until she could lean against the back of the cage.
Groaning as she settled into place, Harriet noticed that her chest still felt a bit jigglier; she peered down at her breasts in bewilderment.
“Huh? Erm, Hermione... shouldn’t my boobs be normal sized now?” asked Harriet. “I thought once the house-elves were done with me they’d go back to normal.”
Hermione sighed and Harriet noticed that her breasts still looked the same too - not huge by any stretch, but on their smaller bodies they looked much bigger.
“I think this is the new normal for us, Harriet.” Hermione gave her a sort of anguished look. “We’re not just breast-feeding house-elves from now on.”
Harriet gasped in horror. “What? ... You mean...?”

“Yes!” Hermione nodded glumly, then she scowled. “We’re going to be milked like cows when anyone feels like it,” she muttered angrily.
That’s when Harriet realised that Hermione’s breasts looked a bit bruised and her nipples much redder than usual.
“Fuck!” Harriet swore, as ‘Bloody hell’ really didn’t cover it. “I don’t know why, Hermione, but every time I think things couldn’t get much worse, they come up with something else. ... I mean, being milked doesn’t sound as bad as being bonked by hundreds of house-elves for a whole day, or dozens of trolls, but somehow - I dunno - right now it seems... well, worse doesn’t really make any sense... but, somehow...”
“I know,” Hermione moaned, nodding. “It felt like that to me too this morning. I think, maybe in part it’s because it’s something new... but it always feels more personal somehow when it’s people - especially people that we sort of know and trusted when we first came here...”
“That sounds about right,” said Harriet. “Blimey, I can’t believe I slept through all that this morning. I’m sorry Hermione...”
“Don’t be,” said Hermione earnestly, shaking her head., her eyes tearing up. “It... you... erm... I’m sorry Harriet. As awful as I felt, it’s nothing compared to... to what...”
Harriet took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Hermione only got like this when something even more horrible was about to happen to Harriet herself.
“It’s okay!” said Harriet, bracing herself for impact as she opened her eyes again. “You and I both knew this wasn’t going to be the end of it for me. So spit it out, Hermione - what d’they have planned for me next?”
“Oh Harriet,” Hermione squeaked, “it’s Centaurs! ... The whole bloody herd by the sound of it!”
“Bloody Fucking Hell!” swore Harriet, her eyes nearly falling out of her head, the mental girders she had erected to brace herself shattering when the news crashed into them. “Centaurs? ... Half horse, half people like in the Greek myths, right?”
Hermione nodded miserably, not sure what else to say.
“Crap, crap, crap!” Harriet moaned, banging her head against the back of the cage several times. “They’re going to be huge, aren’t they?”
“They probably weigh at least twice as much as the Cerberus - Fluffy - and maybe three or four times as much if they’re as big as larger horse breeds.” Hermione sounded a bit hysterical, her voice getting more and more high pitched with every word.
“Yeah, but I meant... are their, erm... penises twice as big - or more - too?”

“I’ve never actually measured one!” Hermione said shrilly. “I’ve never even thought about it - I’m not really into horses...” Then she clapped her hand over her mouth, looking extremely apologetic.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Hermione wailed, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. “I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just...”
“Yeah! I know,” Harriet sighed. “You’re just upset...”
“Yes...” Hermione agreed, still crestfallen, “but you see, it’s not just the fact that you’re being forced to have sex with the Centaurs, someone will be here any minute now to take you - to take us - to the Centaurs. They’re not even going to give you a day or two to recover!”
Harriet paled even more and groaned, her still quite tender vagina and rectum wincing at the very thought of being assailed again so soon. She felt the marble floor shake slightly and heard lumbering footsteps; Harriet looked up to see a very apologetic looking Hagrid approaching with an all too pleased looking Dumbledore.
“Well rested after yesterday’s training I see, Harry?” said Dumbledore cheerfully. “Very good...”
“She’s not well rested,” Hermione sniped. “She’s barely had six hours proper sleep...”
“Ah, well, Miss Granger, Harry has very little time left to train,” Dumbledore explained patiently. “So we shall have to make the best of things and he will have to train twice as hard and twice as long in the time remaining. ... For example, a solid training session with the Centaurs would be no more than eight hours per day over the period of four or five days, but in this case a single double-session in one day shall have to suffice.
“And of course, Miss Granger, your presence will help lessen the amount of preparation time for the Centaurs, making things go much quicker for Harry, as no doubt his training session would have to be several hours longer otherwise. ... Hagrid will now be escorting you both to the Forbidden Forest.”
Professor Dumbledore beamed at Harriet. “Harry, I wish you well in regards to today’s training exercise. The long-term benefits to you gained in terms of endurance should more than make up for the immediate discomfort of such an extended session.”
And with that, the silver haired (and silver-tongued) headmaster nodded at Hagrid and departed the Great Hall, leaving Hermione muttering furiously under her breath. White with shock, Harriet could just make out the words “sixteen hours” and “utterly barbaric.”
“Righ’ then you two,” said Hagrid as he unshackled Harriet and Hermione, “bes’ be on our way - bit of a trek an’ we don’ wanna keep the Centaurs waitin’ - some of ‘em are grumpy enough as it is.”
The pair of nude young witches headed out of the castle with Hagrid leading the way. Hermione rubbed her sore wrists and stretched her aching arms, grateful to be out of the handcuffs finally. Hagrid peered at her sadly.
“Bet yer glad ter be out o’ them things,” he muttered as they traipsed across the lawn. “Don’ get too used ter it though - at leas’ while yer still here. Dumbledore says it’s more en’ertainin’ fer the rest o’ the school ter see a bit o’ variety of shackling.”
“An’ fair warnin’...” he added darkly, “I reckon I’ll prob’ly have t’be chainin’ yeh both up a bit different some days. Hopefully we c’n figure out yer next move ter escape before too much longer.”
Then Hagrid clammed up for a bit as Harriet and Hermione followed him into the woods, twigs and dead leaves crunching under their bare feet. It felt good to be outside again with the sun peeking through the puffy white clouds and the canopy of the forest above, and hearing the birds chirping.
As the forest grew darker, Hagrid began to talk again. It was almost a lecture really on the history of Centaur relations with wizards, and Harriet rather thought he’d be a pretty good teacher under other circumstances; but she remained quiet, not willing to betray her anxiety, and let Hermione give voice to their more bitter feelings about the entire situation instead.
“...an’ fer years af’er that, wizards an’ Centaurs never really got on much,” Hagrid was saying. “Not until a couple o’ years after the Grand Bargain. Dumbledore made a pact with ‘em an’ most’re a lot friendlier with wizards these days. Apparently they used ter have a thing fer young human lasses way back in ancien’ times like, an’... er...”
Hagrid trailed off uncomfortably, giving them both a guilty look.
“He said they can have access to human girls again, didn’t he?” said Hermione angrily. “He probably gives the Centaurs a few fresh sex-slaves every year to do with as they please.”
“Er... That’s abou’ the size of it,” Hagrid mumbled. “‘cept not usually from Hogwarts. ... Hogwarts ain’ the only ones with Receptacles after all. Some muggleborn never even make it ter Hogwarts when they get ter the usual age...”
“In other words, our age,” Hermione hissed.
“Er, yeah,” said Hagrid. “Anyway, the Ministry picks dozens by lottery every year - spells ‘em up a bit if they ain’ pretty enough and sells ‘em fer a tidy sum to them’s tha’ can afford it - mos’ly rich folk like the Malfoys, an’ a few business owners an’ Ministry officials. ... An’ the Ministry gives a few ter the centaurs as sort of a tribute ter keep ‘em from gettin’ too riled up ‘bout bein’ cooped up in out o’ the way places like the Hogwarts grounds.”
“That’s utterly revolting!” snapped Hermione.
“Yeah, well yeh ain’ wrong,” Hagrid agreed.
The forest grew darker and more primordial the deeper they got; gone were the birches and maples - enormous and ancient gnarled oaks and knotty, tall pines rose out of dense thickets of brambles and bushes in their stead. The terrain became rougher and more treacherous for Harriet and Hermione, their nakedness offering no protection from the thorny briar and prickly undergrowth.
They were both wincing and covered with red scratches by the time Hagrid came to a halt in a mossy glade; even their inner thighs and sensitive parts hadn’t been spared, chafed as they had been from clambering over the coarse bark of fallen trees and gnarled oak roots. The only positive was that their skin didn’t break and bleed, thanks to Dumbledore’s spell.
A clear, burbling stream surrounded by ferns and bulrushes tumbled over pebbles through the clearing, shimmering in the dappled rays of sunlight which penetrated the canopy; wild primrose and azalea bloomed, colourful butterflies flitted to and fro. It was an island of beauty amidst the dark forbidding of the surrounding forest.
Harriet’s breath caught, her trepidation momentarily supplanted by wonderment, and she heard Hermione gasp as well.
“Yeah, it’s summat isn’ it?” Hagrid said in nearly a whisper of reverence.
“This is where they, erm... well... yeh know, deflower the... erm, virgins,” he added, his cheeks turning pink. “Yer not exac’ly that anymore I s'pose, but close enough really, bein’ as young as yeh are. Yer still pretty pure an' innocent an' tha's really all tha' matters ter the Centaurs - It’s all got summat ter do with nature spirits an’ some such mumbo jumbo...”
“‘Mumbo jumbo’? ...Do you truly think so little of our communion with the Great Earth Mother, Hagrid?” said a deeply disdainful voice which sounded like a roar of thunder and a deadly whisper all at once.
Harriet turned and gulped, gaping in frank awe at the colossal Centaur which had somehow silently come up behind them. It loomed over her and Hermione like a giant, easily as tall as Hagrid (whom she reckoned was probably twice as tall as the average man), its muscular human torso rising from the black-coated body of the largest horse imaginable, and its long black tail seemed to be swishing in a decidedly hostile manner.
Hermione had been right; the Centaur looked like it quite literally weighed a ton. It dwarfed the Cerberus many times over, and the adolescent trolls had been nothing in comparison - no taller than loads of men really. And with his wild black hair and dangerously glittering eyes, the Centaur would have cut an intimidating figure even if he weren’t so enormous. He looked majestic and yet savage, wise and yet feral, all at the same time.
“Yeh know tha’ ain’ what I meant, Bane,” said Hagrid, flushing. “I’m abou’ as inter nature as yeh c’n get. I jus’ don’ unnerstand all tha’ spirit stuff.”
“Fair enough, Hagrid,” said another Centaur emerging from the bushes on their right, this one with red hair and a beard, its horse part chestnut coloured. “Pay no heed to Bane - he has little patience for those who do not comprehend our ways.”
“Yeh’re tellin’ me, Ronan,” Hagrid muttered gruffly. “In any case, I brung yeh these two, jus’ like Perfessor Dumbledore tol’ me to... fer trainin’ mind yeh!” he finished pointedly.
“Yes, so Dumbledore said with his words,” said the Centaur named Bane, a distinctly carnal gleam in his eyes. “But his meaning was clear nonetheless - this one, the one previously known as Harry Potter, she is here to pleasure us as a means of discipline!”
Harriet swallowed again under Bane’s gaze and stepped back, instinctively pushing Hermione behind her, both of them quaking and trying not to panic. Hagrid glanced at them both with pity in his eyes.
“Don’ worry too much ‘bout Bane, Harry! I’ll be back fer you two termorrow mornin’ an’ they ain’ allowed t’ really hurt yeh,” Then Hagrid gave Ronan a stern look. “Don’ you lot be too rough with ‘em, alright?”
“Rough is such a relative, human term, don’t you think, Hagrid?” Ronan gazed meaningfully at Hagrid, and Hagrid flushed again. “In any case, they will be returned to you, undamaged. They are protected by Dumbledore’s magic, are they not? ... as are all who are brought to us.”
“I s’pose,” said Hagrid dubiously. “But they’re still only human - they c’n still feel pain n’ get a bit scuffed up. Look a’ what the trek ter get here did to ‘em.”
“A few minor bumps and scrapes,” said Ronan dismissively. “Hardly worthy of our concern. Now Hagrid, if you would be so kind...” Ronan gestured towards the forest, “...we have wasted enough time already.”
“Alrigh’, alrigh’,” Hagrid muttered, his beard twitching as he scowled, “I’m goin’ ... Jus’ make sure Bane don’ get too outta hand - I’m warnin’ yeh!”
Ronan simply raised his eyebrows and continued pointing. Hermione gripped Harriet’s arm tightly, terrified to see Hagrid stomping back the way they had come, leaving them naked and alone with the Centaurs.
“Good! The hairy oaf is gone!” Bane growled. “Thinks he can order us around, does he? We’ll see about that.”
Hermione shrieked when Bane yanked Harriet away, tossing her over his shoulder as if she were a ragdoll, and carried her over to a thick, fallen tree trunk covered with toadstools and moss on the other side of the glade.
Harriet went limp, afraid of what would happen if she resisted, and found herself flung on her backside on top of one of the mossiest bits of the log. She heard another scream from Hermione and knew that Ronan had grabbed her as well. Then Harriet heard the chilling sound of what seemed like hundreds of hooves tromping into the clearing as Bane pulled her legs apart widely.
Bane bound Harriet’s ankles with sturdy twine to a pair of iron rings which seemed to have been hammered into the tree-trunk for this very purpose. Harriet felt her arms being tugged and stretched out as well until her body was bowed across the rounded top of the log; her head was now angled back so that she could only see the branches and leaves above and everything behind her looked upside down.
Her heart pounding, her chest heaving rapidly, Harriet peered up into the eyes of the looming Centaur who was stretching out her arms, this one with long grey hair and a dappled grey coat, but it ignored the terror in her eyes and bound first one wrist and then the other, to another pair of iron rings.
When the Centaurs had finished tying Harriet off, she was spread-eagle and couldn’t budge an inch. Harriet could only hope that this was as much for her protection as it was for their enjoyment. She seemed at just about the right height to fit under a Centaur’s belly without being crushed... But Harriet still had no real idea how big their penises were at full erection.
~o0o~
Hermione trembled and screamed when Ronan reached down and scooped her up with one hand as if she were no more than sack of feathers. She jostled in the Centaur’s grip as he sauntered over to where Bane had carried Harriet, his hooves thumping heavily across the forest floor. Hermione was surprised at how gently Ronan set her down in a patch of soft ferns by the felled tree trunk, having expected him to violently fling her to the ground.
She looked over to see that Bane had just finished tying off Harriet’s ankles, spreading her legs widely. Biting her lip, Hermione’s eyes bulged when she saw the Centaur’s horsey penis extending from its sheath; it was already over a foot and a half long and still stiffening. Ronan peered down at her and gestured at Bane’s slowly growing erection.
“Your task is to help speed up the process,” said Ronan matter-of-factly. “To achieve full length for a Centaur can take some time without manual stimulation. Your touch will make things go much quicker.”
“Er.... wh-wh-what am I s-s-supposed to do?” Hermione stammered, eyeing Bane’s stamping hind hooves nervously as she crawled closer to him.
“Take it in your hands before I kick you, Witch!” snarled Bane, slapping her in the face with his long tail. “And use your mouth as well...”
Hermione scrambled away from his hooves hastily in retreat and fell on her bottom, her breasts jiggling as she quivered with terror.
“Calm yourself, Bane,” said Ronan. “The foal is frightened enough as it as.”
“As well it should be,” Bane retorted ferociously.
“Pay Bane’s tone no mind, little one,” Ronan told Hermione as soothingly as possible. “He will not damage you, but you would do well to pay heed to his words as he has no requirement to be concerned for your comfort.”
Translated in Hermione’s frontal lobes, that meant Bane couldn’t stomp her to death, but he could still make the experience painful for her if he were so inclined. Hermione got back onto her hands and knees, paying no attention to the several thorny twigs stuck to her bum, and cautiously crawled back towards Bane.
The only thing Hermione was thankful for in that moment, was that at least Scabbers had enough common sense to hide and not make things any more difficult for her than he had to. She could feel the rodent curled up into a little furry ball as deep inside her vagina as possible and his nest scratching against her cervix as he shivered with fear.
“Hurry up, Witch!” Bane snapped, slapping her in the face with his tail again.
Hermione’s shaking hands reached out to tentatively grasp the strangely mottled horse cock. It felt very different in her palms and fingers than any of the penises which had been inside her before, and its ballooning head had an oddly flat tip which was wider than the nearest end of the shaft. Gingerly, Hermione began to stroke the enormous cock with both hands.
“Put some more effort into it!” Bane snarled, stamping one of his hind hooves warningly, kicking some moss, sticks, and dirt in her face. “I am no soft, pathetic human weakling... and don’t forget to use your mouth! Lick my rod and suck my crown.”

Hermione followed orders, masturbating Bane more vigorously. She grimaced and gagged when she began licking the shaft of the Centaur’s horse penis, having only ever had human cocks in her mouth before... well, house-elf cocks too, but despite the somewhat slimy texture, house-elf penises were still more or less humanish in most respects.
The bestial penis was very unlike either; fondling and tasting it seemed somehow grosser, as if the knowledge alone that she was licking an animal cock made it much worse. Then, before Bane could get angry, Hermione scrunched her eyes shut and began earnestly sucking the head of his penis.
“Much better,” Bane growled, “Keep it up like that and I’ll be ready soon enough.”
Indeed, Hermione was surprised at how rapidly the horse-cock was elongating and thickening under her ministrations - not to mention horrified at its vastly increasing proportions. Hermione sucked and pumped Bane’s penis even harder, wondering if she could get the angry Centaur off before he could really hurt Harriet; she ignored the taste of the pre-cum dribbling from Bane’s urethra onto her tongue and swallowed it down.
But Bane seemed to know what Hermione was up to, and jerked back, yanking his cock out of her mouth and hands. The muscles in Bane’s massive haunches flexed as he swung his hips from side to side, whipping his penis across Hermione’s face several times and making her shriek before she managed to scrabble out from under him.
Hermione’s face stung where Bane’s cock had slapped her as she shivered, edging backwards toward Ronan. But the tears in Hermione’s eyes weren’t for herself - they were for Harriet.
The monstrosity dangling beneath Bane’s belly wasn’t double the size of Fluffy’s - which had been somewhere between twenty and twenty four inches by her own estimation - but it certainly looked to be perhaps another ten to twelve inches longer, and thicker in girth by about an inch.
If it weren’t for Dumbledore’s Stretchy-Impervious Spell, there was no doubt in Hermione’s mind that Bane’s penis would kill Harriet...
~o0o~
Harriet had been scared more than once by what she and Hermione had endured thus far, but her fear of Snape and the Trolls, and of what that three headed dog had been doing to Hermione paled in comparison to the dread that Harriet was experiencing at this very moment.
She heard the vicious Centaur ordering Hermione around and was afraid that he was going to ignore Hagrid’s and Ronan’s warnings and stomp on Hermione badly enough to break her bones despite Dumbledore’s Impervious Spell. Harriet wanted to call out to Bane and yell at him to leave Hermione alone, but her voice wouldn’t work.
Harriet used every ounce of mental effort she had in an attempt to will the hostile Centaur to get on with things and take her instead. No sooner had she done so, Bane reared up on his hind hooves and his front hooves came thundering down on the other side of the log, his black bristly chest hovering just inches away from her face.
For a moment Harriet felt elated that her mental signals had worked, only to be replaced by a sense of impending doom. Harriet squeezed her eyes shut, desperately trying to will her lower extremities to relax in an attempt to relieve what she expected to be a very painful penetration.
Harriet’s efforts were for naught though, as her abdominal and vaginal muscles were too tight with anxiety to unclench when she felt something long and fleshy sliding across her belly and down between her thighs, pressing against her vulva.
It felt far too large and the knob-end far too flat and wide to gain entrance to her body. Harriet’s only hope for some measure to ease the passage was the humiliating fact that she was already very wet inside, not with the trickle of pee which she had released in fright, but from a release of her female juices which had been stimulated by some sort of perverse primordial pleasure.
Harriet didn’t understand why her body so often betrayed her when she was used unwillingly, and she hated it. Her nipples were as hard as little rocks, and her swollen little nubbin was poking out of its hiding place between her pussy lips as she braced for impact.
And then she felt it plunging into her vagina and screamed. Harriet’s scream was cut off when she gasped from the force of the blow to her stomach. Her abdomen was already distending, stretching around the monster cock inside her, before its size truly registered.
Dazed from the forceful entrance, it took Harriet a moment to sort out the array of sensations from the initial burst of pain, her labia and wet sheath clinging tightly to the wide shaft of the penile intruder, greater in thickness even than the Burrowing Carrots at their greatest girth, and its current depth beyond anything which should be possible, further beyond the reaches of the Hagrid sized dicks which Snape and the boys in Potions class had put inside her bottom hole.
The shape and the texture of the heated horse-member sliding deeper and deeper into Harriet’s cunt felt weird, and peering between her breasts in fascinated horror she watched her belly protruding more and more. The massive beast on top of her continued thrusting and it seemed to go on and on.
How long was that bloody thing? It certainly felt longer than Fluffy’s canine penis had looked. Harriet was sure she had at least two feet of horse cock inside her now but it was still going, inch by painful inch. And then, finally, when she felt the bristly horse hair of the Centaur’s hot underbelly scraping the skin of her inner thighs and her overly stretched mound and abdomen, Harriet knew that Bane had bottomed out.
From the aching pressure within, it felt like he had at least three feet of horse penis buried inside her, and judging by the two foot protrusion of her belly, that seemed about right. Now that she knew, Harriet let her head fall back and bit her lip, squeezing her eyes shut, preparing herself for the rutting which she knew was about to start.
Sure enough Harriet felt about half of the horse cock slide out of her with a sort of slurping sound before it slammed back inside her with a horrible squelching sound.
Bane began slowly at first, withdrawing his cock and then ramming it back into her fleshy warm passage, his coarse belly slapping the smooth skin of her own.
Another thrust! Squelch! Smack!
Harriet let out a grunt,“Nnnngh!”
There was a slurp as Bane’s cock retreated.
Again he cannoned back in! Squelch! Smack! ... wrenching an “Aaaargh!” from Harriet.
Her little body rocked with every lunge and the antagonistic Centaur began to pick up the pace, fucking Harriet zealously, hammering into her repeatedly and rapidly. Harriet’s body jerked around, held in place by the coarse bindings cutting into her wrists and ankles, and she was already delirious, burning up from the friction inside her cunt.
Gasping with exertion, Harriet lost all sense of the world beyond herself and Bane, only comprehending the constant pounding in her belly, barely eased by the ever growing slickness of her widely stretched inner walls. And every time his horse bristles chafed her swollen clitoris Harriet felt a deeper and deeper sense of shame, trying hold off as long as she could, unwilling to give in and give the bloody horse-monster the satisfaction.
But to her great mortification, Bane seemed to know exactly what she was feeling.
“Like that, do you, Witch?” he taunted. “Human females just can’t get enough of us. We Centaurs can give you what human males never could, pathetic weaklings that they are. ... But your pleasure means less than nothing to me!
“I want you to feel every inch of my wrath - every inch of my vengeance for every indignity heaped upon my noble species by wizards, constantly pushing us back, treating us like beasts, forcing us to live on the fringes in exile in the Wilderness, far away from civilised society!
“We, who were stargazing and creating civilisation long before your puny, wretched kind crawled out of their filthy, worm-infested caves. ... If all that is left for us Centaurs by your kind is the Wild and the Hunt, then wild we shall be!”
“FEEL ME, WITCH!” Bane bellowed, punctuated by particularly savage thrust of his cock.
He fucked Harriet relentlessly and without mercy for what seemed like eons, ploughing into her again and again, and she felt more and more of his weight squashing her against the fallen tree, moss tearing away from the trunk, her back and bottom grinding against the rough bark, his horse-bristles scraping the fleshy little bean between her thighs, and her breasts and sensitive nipples with every violent lunge.
Harriet heard someone screaming, then realised it was her, whether from pain or pleasure she couldn’t really tell, as it was all of a piece - an explosion of pure sensation - agony and ecstasy all rolled into one.
It was a wonder that Harriet had any faculties left as the piercing orgasm ripped her senses to shreds, but through that blurry haze of equal parts rapture and torment, she still had a measure of awareness that something was happening within her body.
There were more of those sickeningly squelchy sounds and then she felt it inside her, the horse penis shoved in as deeply inside her as possible was spasming convulsively, deluging her womb with boiling Centaur seed.
The force of the ejaculation and the voluminous amounts of cum were such that Centaur semen sprayed out of her pussy lips around Bane’s thick shaft. Every pulse and twitch of his jerking cock blasted another torrent of his stickiness into her depths like a firehose.
And then it was over; Bane’s deflating member slid out of Harriet, leaving her feeling almost empty save for all the Centaur sperm still inside her.
The next thing that Harriet heard was Hermione sobbing inconsolably and the next thing she felt was Hermione’s face being smashed into her gushing pussy.
“I am told that we are to be feeding you, Witch!” Bane growled. “Well feast on this! Dine from your lover’s vessel - Drink of my elixir and you will hunger and thirst no more!”
Dazed, Harriet slumped limply against the log, sweaty and panting, feeling Hermione’s tongue inside her raw vagina, lapping up the Centaur semen draining from Harriet’s womb. As she began to recover she felt Hermione’s hot tears dripping onto her now clammy bare mons.
Hermione was still crying as she continued slurping down the Centaur sperm and Harriet knew she wasn’t crying for herself. In that moment Harriet’s heart ached for Hermione far more than her sore pussy did and she realised that Bane was right.
Despite his hate for wizards, Bane’s perception had been spot on; Hermione meant more to Harriet than anything - Hermione really was her lover! Their earnest declarations of love to one another a few weeks prior notwithstanding, for Harriet it hadn’t quite sunk in yet what it really meant to be in love.
It wasn’t just about making each other feel good, it was also about feeling bad when the person you loved was hurting. Harriet couldn’t have really comprehended that before, being too young - and too isolated and inexperienced, having lived with the Dursleys - to have ever conceived of what loving someone and being loved truly meant.
Finally Harriet had enough strength to speak.
“Hermione!” she said, still sounding breathless, lifting her head up to see to the other side of the log and spying the top of Hermione’s tawny tresses between her open thighs. “Hermione! Listen to me - I’m fine! Really! Don’t worry - I can take it - I can handle this - no problem!”
“R-r-really?” Hermione mumbled skeptically through a mouthful of horse-cum, peering back at Harriet from between Harriet’s legs. Hermione swallowed it down and asked again. “Are... are you sure?”
“Yeah! I am! ... I promise,” said Harriet, even more confidently, but she couldn’t help the note of anguish creeping into her voice when she begged her companion, “Please, Hermione! Try not to cry if you can help it. Please!”
Hermione looked perplexed for a moment, horse semen dripping from her face, then she seemed to understand that her crying was causing Harriet pain.
“I... I can’t promise not to cry,” Hermione said honestly. “But I’ll try my best not to.”
Then Ronan approached and gently took Hermione’s arm.
“Come little one,” he said. “That is enough for now. Others await their turn with your friend.”
Hermione nodded glumly and wiped her sticky lips on the back of her arm, trying her hardest not to cry again.
A flurry of fallen leaves was swept up in a strong gust of wind as Ronan led Hermione towards the other Centaurs, no doubt to help prepare them as she had Bane. The rays of the early afternoon sun which had penetrated the thin canopy of leaves above the glade faded as clouds drew across its face and Harriet felt the first cold drops of rain splashing against her skin.
Another Centaur approached, one which Hermione had apparently been masturbating while Bane had been having his way with Harriet.
This one was a palomino. It wasn’t quite as gigantic as Bane, but it was still enormous. It waited a moment as the icy rain began falling in earnest, perhaps waiting for it to wash away some of Bane’s spunk from Harriet’s smeared vulva and inner thighs.
Harriet wasn’t sure whether or not to be grateful when the palomino finally reared on its hind legs and its front hooves came crashing down behind her head. Its body blocked the worst of the downpour and the heat radiating from its abdomen alleviated much of the chill. But the heat of the massive member now resting on Harriet’s flat belly brought a very different sort of chill.
It was going to be a very long afternoon and an even longer night...
AN:
@ ClaireR89: Yeah... Scabbers is a horrid little bastard who deserves to die painfully, but until they get those collars off and escape (which is going to happen sometime within the next few chapters), there's nothing they can really do about him.
As to Sirius and using the Floo system, Sirius is being very careful to avoid the wizard world at all for the moment to avoid being recaptured. The Floo system is regulated and monitored by the Ministry after all. And at the moment, his body is still too severely malnourished for him to safely apparate, perhaps after a few days of proper food he might be up to it.
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Mudbloods at Hogwarts