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
- 17
- 18
- 19
The Show Must Go On

Hermione woke up first. It was early Saturday morning, probably around five thirty, and she couldn’t go back to sleep, anxious as she was for Harriet. She gently stroked and kissed Harriet’s messy black hair, hopefully lightly enough not to wake her.
Harriet looked more peaceful than Hermione had thought she would, given the nightmares which had disturbed their first night in the hospital wing until they had taken the Dreamless Sleep Draught which Pomfrey had left for them to use as needed. Indeed, Harriet's nightmares were particularly persistent, and she'd had to be dosed more than once each night since.
Hermione’s nightmares continued to revolve mostly around the things which had happened to her at Hogwarts, particularly those involving Snape, and the occasional one where her parents didn’t know who she was.
But more disturbing to Hermione were Harriet’s bad dreams. Other than her frequent new nightmare about drowning, and her own nightmares about Snape, Harriet’s nightmares often tended to be about being back at the Dursleys.
Even though - according to Harriet - the beatings dished out by her Uncle when he was angry weren’t really that bad, or not nearly as bad as they could have been - no major injuries or anything of that sort, just loads of bruises and welts - it was still very telling that Harriet had nightmares about living with them and was relieved to find herself at Hogwarts when she woke up.
All Hermione could think was that knowing she potentially had access to magic and could eventually learn how to protect herself with it as long as she was in the wizard world gave Harriet a bit more sense of security. So it was nice to watch Harriet when she was sleeping peacefully, all the anxiety gone from her features.
The other thing which was disturbing to Hermione was how normal it had seemed to be to offer sexual favours just for a bit of kindness. Neither of them had really thought much of it when they had offered themselves up to Lavender and Parvati last night.
That struck Hermione as very weird and counterintuitive after being enslaved and raped so many times, but eventually she worked out that it only made sense in a twisted kind of way that they would get used to treating sex like currency under these conditions, and she didn’t like the implications at all for what that boded for their future after they escaped.
Hermione sighed and tried to put those thoughts aside; as long as she and Harriet loved each other, they would be able to muddle their way through things together.
~o0o~
It was a cold morning under steely grey skies on the last Saturday of October - the coldest day of autumn yet - a bitter wind blowing into the Scottish Highlands from the North Sea, bringing with it a hint of winter and the odd snowflake rather than the odd raindrop; the lawns were white with frost.
But the stands around the quidditch pitch were already beginning to fill with students and visitors who had hurried through breakfast, bundled up against the freeze. In the centre of the pitch was what appeared to be a gigantic scarlet and gold circus tent flapping in the wind; it was almost as high as the stands - nearly twenty metres tall - and nearly forty metres in diameter. The whistling of the wind and the sound of rippling fabric was punctuated by the occasional roar emanating from the tent.
And at the bottom of the stands, very near the stairs leading up to the seats, was a tarp covered boxy steel frame with a loose tarp hanging at the rear, looking much like a fair booth. But unlike an ordinary fair booth, within the frame there were no food vendors or ball-tossing games, no mimes or Punch and Judy shows, no face painters or t-shirt sellers; instead it contained a low, wooden pillory facing the centre of the pitch, around which the hanging tarp could be drawn for those who preferred a bit of privacy.
Lucius Malfoy smiled thinly as he strode towards Dumbledore, his long black cloak and scarf billowing around him, a squat woman in a pink hooded robe at his side.
“Ah, Lucius, Dolores,” said Dumbledore warmly, his long silvery beard whipping in the wind. “More than punctual as usual - the spectacle is set to begin in twenty minutes. But no Narcissa, or Cornelius?”
“Cornelius is apparently at home with a nasty cold,” Dolores responded in a treacly voice, beaming at Dumbledore. “He sends his apologies for not being able to join us today.”
“As to Narcissa, she claims to find these sorts of proceedings boorish.” Lucius smirked. “Though I suspect she simply doesn’t have the stomach for them, unlike our inestimable Senior Undersecretary.”
“Oh Lucius, you charmer you!” Dolores tittered. “Best not to let your wife hear you say such things. She might get the wrong idea about us.”
Dumbledore chuckled, then he spied several more Wizengamot members approaching.
“Good morning Warlock Nott.” Dumbledore nodded in greeting. “Amycus, Alecto - braving the cold I see?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Alecto purred. “And I take it that the pillory is for the bushy haired one?”

“Ah - indeed,” said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. “I even provided an optional privacy screen for those so inclined - noblewomen such as yourself.”
“Very thoughtful of you Albus,” said Alecto, a sadistic smile creeping to her lips. “For the Receptacle as well. I do so hope it appreciates your generosity in leaving the screen up to the discretion of the patrons - I wouldn’t want to deprive it of enjoying this delightful weather.”
“My thoughts precisely,” Dumbledore agreed; then his attention was caught by another approaching bundled up figure, this one walking stiffly and wincing every few steps.
“Good morning, Severus. It is good to see you up at long last.”
“No doubt,” said Snape acerbically. “My present condition notwithstanding, not attending this event was never an option for me, Headmaster.”
“Quite!” said Dumbledore wryly.
Lucius Malfoy raised his eyebrows. “My word Severus. Whatever has befallen you? A potions mishap perhaps?”
Snape gave his long-time friend a withering look.
“Really, Lucius! You wound me. ... If you must know, I fell victim to this castle’s outdated plumbing system.”
Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled mirthfully. Clearly his Potions Master was too prideful to express his belief that a first year was to blame for his current state.
“Well,” he said, “Why don’t we take our seats and call for some house-elves to bring us something hot to drink, some rum spiked cocoa or eggnog perhaps. Hagrid will be bringing the Receptacles down shortly, and then we can get this show on the road.”
“A splendid idea, Albus!” Dolores agreed with a simpering smile as two new arrivals appeared on the scene.
“Headmaster Dumbledore,” purred Rita Skeeter, batting her eyelashes, “Good morning. So good to see you again! Thank you so much for the personal invitation. And this is my photographer of course.”
“Of course,” said Dumbledore politely, his eyes twinkling. “It is my great pleasure to personally host the Daily Prophet’s star reporter. We were just about to head up to the Visitors box...”
~o0o~
If anyone would have noticed the large black dog lurking in the bushes at the edge of the lawn behind the stands, they might have been inclined to believe that it was scowling with an almost human expression. Peeking between the branches and leaves and utilising all of his heightened canine senses - eyesight, nose, and hearing - Padfoot had a clear view of several of the people he hated most.
Having performed an initial survey of the situation, Padfoot reckoned he’d seen enough for the time-being and should probably get back to the Shrieking Shack before he did something reckless - like giving Snivellus, Malfoy, and Dumbledore a few well-placed bites... or ripping their throats out.
In any case, he’d done enough scouting of the grounds and the immediate surrounds of the castle before it began teeming with people to reassure himself that there hadn’t been any major changes which might cause problems. Ascertaining the level of security of Hogwarts at night would have to be done after all the visitors had gone home and after dark.
Padfoot crept along behind the bushes, back down the hill to the bit of lawn near the Whomping Willow.
~o0o~
Quirrell sipped from his steaming mug of hot cocoa, his breath clouding as he peered down at the tent in the middle of the Quidditch pitch in satisfaction; he had assigned all of the students in his classes at least a foot of parchment on the mating habits of the Shokushu and encouraged them to witness at least an hour of the daylight proceedings, and then to return after dinner to witness the birthing process.
It wasn’t necessary to watch all day - though Quirrell expected that most students and visitors would choose to watch at least until early afternoon. But most importantly Dumbledore and Snape would be out of the castle until dinner, and that would give Quirrell himself the opportunity to slip away for a few hours to take care of business within the castle without their interference...
~o0o~
When Harriet finally stirred sometime around six thirty, Hermione wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or sorrowful. On the one hand, she would now have a little over an hour to share with Harriet before Harriet’s horrible day began, on the other hand, she hated to see the tension and anxiety return to Harriet’s features.
“Good morning Harriet.” Hermione gave her a sad little smile and a kiss on her forehead.
“‘Morning Hermione.” Harriet forced her features into a grin as her eyelids fluttered open.
For her part, Harriet had convinced herself that she was resigned to the situation; after several days of rest and good food she was ready for anything. She had faced impregnation by bloody vegetables, rape at the hands of Snape and all of the boys in Potions, Fang, Trolls, hundreds of House-Elves, a score of Centaurs, and a Giant Squid, and the humiliation of performing degrading acts in front of the entire school on a daily basis for weeks on end.
Harriet was sure she could handle a multi-tentacled Japanese Demon. In the meantime, she still had an hour to be with Hermione.
They kissed a little bit, but most of the next hour was just spent cuddling and breastfeeding one another. Seven thirty arrived too soon; Harriet quickly and wetly released Hermione’s nipple from her mouth when she heard Madam Pomfrey’s shoes clicking on the tiled floor of the hospital wing.
Madam Pomfrey pulled back the curtains and smiled wanly at her two charges.
“Good morning. ... Well, perhaps not so good,” she sighed. “I would have the House-Elves provide you both some breakfast, but...”
“I’d probably just throw it up,” said Harriet almost blandly, “and I bet Hermione and I are going to be swallowing loads of semen today.”
“Yes, I expect so.” Pomfrey flushed at Harriet’s blunt and all too casual assessment.
It pained her that Potter, and likely Granger as well, were beginning to normalise the sexual servitude in their minds, like the Receptacles before them who all eventually internalised the notion that it was customary to perform sexual acts for whomever wished to use them on demand, some even to the point of willingly offering themselves up to anyone who might afford them the slightest bit of kindness, or in trade for some form of compensation.
Some would even come to willingly offer themselves up for naught, believing that they had always been destined for servitude, or believing that it was even desirable to be a slave - much like House-Elves. Pomfrey somehow didn’t believe that Granger or Potter would ever fall that far. ... They both had far too much strength of Will to sink to such depths.
She sighed inwardly. Potter and Granger were supposed to going to school, growing up, discovering the joys and the pain of romantic encounters as part of the process of maturing to eventual adulthood in a more ordinary time-frame. Though admittedly, there were always a few precocious youngsters who advanced sexually at an early age.
Putting those unsavoury thoughts aside, Pomfrey addressed Harriet and Hermione again and handed them each a vial.
“In any case, as before, hopefully these extra-strength pain potions will blunt some of the stress you will both be facing today. I wish I could do more.”
“Thanks Madam Pomfrey,” said Hermione; Harriet gave Madam Pomfrey an exceedingly grateful look and they both downed their vials of potion without hesitation.
Madam Pomfrey eyed them sadly when Hagrid led the pair of young witches out of the hospital wing ten minutes later.
~o0o~
As soon as she stepped through the doorway, Hermione’s teeth started chattering.
“Bloody Hell!” squeaked Harriet, shivering as she and Hermione followed Hagrid outside into the courtyard, frost crunching under their bare feet, the icy wind instantly raising goose bumps on their skin and hardening their nipples. “It’s bloody freezing out here! It feels like it’s going to snow.”
“Bit early for tha’...” said Hagrid, giving Harriet and Hermione an apologetic look. “Doesn’ usually snow before Halloween - it usually don’ start snowin’ until sometime next month.”
Hermione, who had one arm across her breasts and the other across her abdomen, her hand covering her bare mound, all in a vain attempt to conserve body heat, looked a bit skeptical when a random snowflake melted against her skin.
“Are y-y-you s-s-sure about th-that?” she asked.
“Well, it does happen ev’ry so often,” Hagrid admitted ruefully. “Usually don’ last more’n a day or two though before rain washes it all away this time o’ year. This could be one o’ them days I s’pose. ... Can’ really do nothin’ ‘bout yeh bein’ cold. Yeh won’ get chillblains or frostbite or freeze ter death or anythin’ like tha’ though - that spell o’ Dumbledore’s makes yeh pretty much impervious ter mos’ things tha’ can cause injury, includin’ ‘xtreme cold.”
“Won’ do much fer fire though,” Hagrid added as an afterthought, “so try t’avoid that.”
When they approached the quidditch stands, a murmur of anticipation rose up from the enormous crowd of students and visitors. At the bottom of the stairs which led up into the stands, something caught Harriet’s attention. She scowled at the pillory under a tarp stretched across the top of a metal frame, knowing exactly who it was for.
Hermione’s attention had been caught by something else though. She gasped at the enormous billowing tent in the centre of the stadium.
“H-H-Harriet!” Hermione squeaked, tugging on her arm.
“Wha..?” Harriet’s face paled and her question faded when she saw the size of the circus tent and she gulped, hoping that its immensity wasn’t indicative of the size of the monster itself.
“Er... Hermione,” beckoned Hagrid. “Sorry ‘bout this, I really am, but I gotta get this goin’...”
Harriet gave Hermione’s hand a sympathetic squeeze and tried to smile bravely at her. Then Hermione knelt on the crispy, frozen lawn and Hagrid resignedly locked Hermione’s neck and wrists in the wooden pillory; lastly, Hagrid reached into his thick winter cloak and drew from within it something which looked a bit like a metal chastity belt.
“Tha’s ter keep alla them folk out,” said Hagrid as he strapped the iron ‘knickers’ into place, “more fer tha’ bloody rat’s sake than yours I’m afraid, Hermione.”
Hermione said nothing, not wanting to admit that for once she was glad that Scabbers was living in her vagina, as opposed to being shagged by numerous visitors and students throughout the day. Then she felt guilty for even thinking that, knowing what Harriet was about to endure.
Hagrid gently led Harriet by the arm towards the tent and the crowd fell quiet. All that could be heard was the flapping of the tent in the gusts of wind. And then the tent was gone - magically vanished.
Harriet’s jaw dropped at the size of the monstrosity in the centre of what appeared to be some sort of pattern of a star with many points inside a circle painted on the unfrozen bit of lawn which had been inside the enormous circus tent.
The gargantuan beast was many, many times larger than the Giant Squid, towering above her and Hagrid. Its body alone was nearly double what the height of the Giant Squid would have been from the top of the Squid’s head to the tip of the Squid’s two longest tentacles - that it had fit inside the tent was remarkable.
The body - such as it was - made no sense. It was an irregularly shaped, shifting mass, giving it the appearance of a gelatinous blob; numerous eyeballs of assorted sizes and many mouths with razor sharp looking teeth were situated randomly on its form. Its trunk was greyish-blue with flecks of emerald green and gold and its tentacles were a range of hues from pale pink flesh tones to angry-red and purple.
The undulating appendages coiled around its body were legion, a varied array of girths ranging from pencil-thin to the width of a tree-limb; it was impossible to tell how long they were, but Harriet didn’t doubt that stretched out they would reach from the top of the highest tower of Hogwarts to the ground.
Harriet froze, horrified; the Compulsion Collar strained to force her forward but for the first time Harriet’s resistance was almost strong enough to hold her in place. The battle to control her own body flung Harriet to the icy lawn. Hagrid sighed and picked her up, setting her back on her feet.
“It’ll be a’right Harry...” he said soothingly.
“That’s easy for you to say,” Harriet squeaked. “That thing’s HUGE!”
“No, really! I read up on these Shokushu since I talked ter yeh last, Harry,” said Hagrid earnestly, “an’ yeah, they c’n be vicious beasts that yeh wouldn’ wanna cross without some powerful magic, bu’ they won’ harm their, erm... breeders. If yeh didn’ already have Dumbledore’s spell on yeh, the magic o’ these creatures would have more’r less the same effect on yeh.”
“If you say so,” Harriet muttered dubiously as Hagrid led her to the edge of the symbol painted on the lawn. She barely registered the cheers of well over half of the crowd in the stands as she stared at the monster.
The only thing Harriet was thankful for was that she wouldn’t be underwater. She’d had nightmares about drowning every night since Monday; then Hermione would wake up and remind her to take the Dreamless Sleep Potion. Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside the circle and felt a tingle of magic as she passed over the line. Harriet reckoned it must be some sort of magical trap to stop the Shokushu from escaping and raping every other girl in school.
Immediately she felt a deep, low rumbling almost like an earthquake, except the ground wasn’t shaking; it took her a moment to realise that it was actually a sound that was too low pitched to hear when she felt the oscillations increase into audible range and her eardrums were suddenly impacted with a loud echoing roar.
Numerous tentacles - too many to count - whipped towards Harriet, two of the red ones winding around her ankles. She tried not to scream but failed as she hurtled into the sky, dangling upside down as her legs were stretched widely apart exposing the most intimate part of her vulva to the world. The other tentacles trailing behind reached her, snaking around all of her limbs and her torso.
Her heart thumping wildly against her rib-cage, Harriet was well and truly trussed like a fly in a web looking at the ground where the sky was supposed to be. The icy wind at this height was almost gale force. Another tentacle came out of nowhere, wriggling between her parted thighs, a purple one which appeared to be covered in barbs.
Harriet bit her lip and her entrance flinched when she felt the tentacle sliding between her clammy pussy lips, rubbing along the length of her fold; the barbs weren’t painful as she had imagined they would be, being cartilaginous rather than sharp spines.
She couldn’t help squirming, feeling tingles of pleasure as her clitoris and labia were stimulated by the rough surface of the purple shaft, her cold vulva heating up and growing damp. For several minutes that was the only action the monster took; Harriet’s vagina grew hotter and wetter, the tingles of arousal growing stronger with every stroke.
Harriet gasped when the bristly purple tentacle suddenly plunged into her now dripping cunt. It slithered deep inside her tight sheath and began to fuck her slowly, her bottom wiggling with every thrust.
A slender tendril in the meantime had wrapped itself around Harriet’s swollen pearl and began squeezing and tugging. The texture of rubbery spines around the thick shaft grinding against her fleshy inner-walls while the tendril tweaked her clit sent Harriet over the top; she moaned loudly, her juices squirting as the first humiliating all-too-public orgasm ripped through her body.
The tentacle began pistoning into Harriet harder and faster and deeper; the orgasm combined with the vertigo brought on by hanging upside down and she began to lose all sense of direction. Another wave of pleasure started building and Harriet’s gasps and moans grew more ragged with every breath.
A new tentacle appeared before her, hovering in front of her face, waving back and forth like a serpent being hypnotised by a Snake Charmer. It was one of the pale-pink flesh toned appendages, fatter even than the purple one plundering her vessel; with its veiny shaft and bulbous mushroom shaped knob it was eerily reminiscent of a circumcised human penis, though it was glistening as if coated with something slimy.
Due to her heavy panting, Harriet’s pouty lips were open enticingly, and taking advantage of the invitation, the hundred-foot long cock lunged into her mouth, sliding over her tongue and shooting down her throat. Despite its Hagrid sized circumference, the penis shaped tentacle passed with ease through the wet, warm channel leading toward Harriet’s stomach and she only slightly gagged at its intrusion.
Being pumped now at both ends, even in Harriet’s semi-delirious state she was aware enough to know what to expect next and her anus clenched tightly. But the tentacle now probing the puckered entrance to Harriet’s back-passage seemed to be taking it as a challenge. Despite the electrifying pulses of pleasure rippling through her from head to toe, she let out a muffled shriek of pain as it slammed into her bottom-hole and forced its way into her rectum.
The pain ebbed quickly as the thick tentacle began to corkscrew deeper into Harriet’s rear-channel, the ribbing of the shaft presenting a new and delightful sensation as it rubbed up against the tentacle in her pussy through her inner-walls.
More red tentacles - tendrils really, not more than a centimetre in width - encircled Harriet’s jiggling breasts; the tips opened like hungry little mouths revealing salivating tongues inside. The mouths seemed to grin; then they clamped onto Harriet’s nipples and began hungrily sucking and slurping down her milk.
Harriet climaxed again just as she felt the cock fucking her throat pulsing, voluminous jets of demon seed spurting into her gullet.
As horrifically mortifying as the experience of being raped in public by a gigantic monster was, knowing that Ministry officials and reporters were watching, Harriet decided the pleasurable feelings were a vast improvement over being painfully shagged and half-drowned by the Giant Squid...
~o0o~
Half-frozen and shivering as she waited in the pillory - her bushy hair billowing in the bitter wind - and thinking that she couldn’t get much colder, Hermione watched Harriet’s assault by the colossal Japanese Demon in utter horror for nearly forty five minutes before she had her first visitor. She heard the crunch of footsteps on frosty grass first, then a lanky figure with long platinum hair dressed in a posh looking black cloak came into view.
There was something very familiar about the sneering smirk on the man’s face. Draco’s father - it had to be! Hermione swallowed nervously.
“Well, well, well,” Draco Malfoy’s father softly drawled in a rich, plummy voice, “If it isn’t the Mudblood I’ve heard so much about - Potter’s little girlfriend!”
Hermione didn’t know exactly what a mudblood was, but there was no question that it was a very horrid term and she felt her cheeks flushing with heat (which a part of her couldn’t help thinking was a positive given the cold).
“Once upon a time Harry Potter was a great thorn in my side, and his parents before that,” Mr Malfoy continued, “But after Dumbledore and I reached an agreement that we could all live with, I was almost grateful that the Potter brat had defeated the Dark Lord - almost. And now... well let me just say that I couldn’t be happier - now more than ever seeing the Potter brat get what he so richly deserves.
“Indeed, I am positively swelling with joy.” The tall, lanky wizard leered down at Hermione, opening his cloak.
“I am told by my son that feeding you is a delightful experience,” he went on, unzipping his tenting trousers, “so of course I just had to determine for myself the veracity of Draco’s claim. You should be grateful you know! A Noble bloodline such as our own - we wouldn’t feed just any Mudblood - dirtying ourselves with the filth of your kind. But for Potter’s girlfriend we can make an exception.”
Mr Malfoy tugged his erection through the gap in his cotton briefs. A respectable seven inches of cock bobbed in front of Hermione’s face. It certainly wasn’t the largest penis she had been made to suck, but it seemed somehow more revolting than most, perhaps because the evil wizard reminded her so strongly of Snape.
But Hermione knew she had no choice in the matter and opened her mouth to receive the invader.
His heated knob now resting on Hermione’s tongue, Mr Malfoy wound her bushy hair painfully around his fingers, gripping her head, and savagely thrust his length into her throat. In and out he sawed, smashing her face into his crotch.
After several minutes of face-fucking, Malfoy halted and groaned, all seven inches lodged in Hermione’s esophagus. He shot his first two loads down her throat then pulled back, filling her mouth with his semen which she dutifully swallowed, and to finish off, Mr Malfoy pulled out the rest of the way and jerked the last few spurts of spunk onto Hermione’s face.
Draco’s horrible father laughed at Hermione as he zipped himself back up and stalked away.
For another twenty minutes - Mr Malfoy’s cum freezing on her forehead and cheeks - Hermione watched sorrowfully as the mountainous beast continued to violate Harriet in every way imaginable. There were footsteps again and she looked up to see another grown up wizard she had never met before, this one rotund and much older than Mr Malfoy judging by his nearly white goatee. He chortled when he saw the frozen semen on her face.
“That’s our Chief Warlock for you,” said the wizard with a smirk. “Lucius always did know how to properly adorn a Mudblood. Still - not nearly enough coverage - let’s see if we can’t rectify that situation.”
Hermione crinkled her nose, her brow furrowing, feeling a hot rush of anger along with her humiliation and revulsion. This wizard didn’t remind her much of Snape at all, other than his general attitude towards her, as if she were lesser than an animal, and she wasn’t certain why she was reacting as if she hadn’t already been used a thousand times already.
The horrid old wizard shoved his cock into her throat. After a few minutes, he climaxed; he pumped only a few loads into her mouth and ejaculated the rest all over her face and hair.
On and on it went over the next couple of hours as one after the other, creepy old and middle-aged strangers forced their penises down Hermione’s throat, alternating between making her swallow their semen and shooting great ribbons of it across her countenance, each layer of cum freezing solid until nearly every inch of her face and much of her hair was covered.
And to add to Hermione’s misery and discomfort, the wind was now bringing with it squalls of snow which blew under the tarp above and began collecting around her frozen knees.
It was late morning by the time the first mature witch approached Hermione. It was only because the icy cum on Hermione’s eyelids had flaked off that she was able to see the woman at all.
The older witch had several streaks of white in her otherwise dark hair, and she leered down at Hermione with an expression as vulgar and lewd as any Hermione had seen on all of the detestable wizards’ faces so far that day.
“Oh, my, my,” the witch said in a falsely sweet voice, “Look what those beastly men have done to you! You poor little Mudblood. ... I was going to make you pleasure me, but in your current state... Well, in any case, your visage is frankly more pleasing to me as it is - more befitting your true purpose.”
The witch waved her wand and the blue tarp flapping at the back of the steel frame drew around the entire structure, sheltering them both from view. Then the witch hung her cloak on a hook protruding from one of the legs at the front of the stall and hiked up her skirt, revealing no knickers and rather bushy pubes.
Hermione was briefly puzzled. If the elder witch wasn’t going to make Hermione lick her out, then what...? Oh no! Hermione suddenly knew what the awful witch was going to do and she hurriedly shut her eyes.
Sure enough, Hermione felt a spray of hot liquid striking her forehead and smelled the acrid scent of urine. The pee gushed down Hermione’s face, splashing onto the layer of snow below.
“Open your mouth, Mudblood!” the ghastly witch said sharply. “Wizards may find you an adequate cum receptacle, but as far as I’m concerned, being a toilet is the only thing you’re good for!”
Hermione parted her lips and nearly cried at the witch’s cruel words, but she wasn’t going to give the witch the satisfaction. She could feel the heat from the woman’s body against her face as the witch drew closer, and the witch managed to aim her stream of piss directly into Hermione’s mouth.
Hermione didn’t want to swallow, but the Compulsion Collar forced her to guzzle down every drop. The witch must have had a very full bladder because it seemed to go on and on. And then it was finished.
The witch dropped her skirt and put her cloak back on; with a flourish of her wand Hermione was hit with a blast of snow when the tarp enclosing them flew open, returning to its original position at the rear of the frame and flapping loosely in the strong gusts of wind. The witch smirked nastily at Hermione’s face, which was now dripping with urine and melted gobs of frozen semen, then she stalked off and returned to her seat in the stands.
There were no more visitors for some time after that; the pee and cum froze to Hermione’s face as she shivered, growing colder and colder while she watched Harriet’s continued defilement at the hands - or rather, the tentacles - of the Shokushu...
~o0o~
The hundred or so visitors and the few remaining staff members - meaning Dumbledore, Snape, Quirrell, Filch, and Professor Kettleburn - made good use of the invisible weather shielding erected over the Visitors section of the quidditch stands, nearly all to the last remaining seated when lunchtime approached.
Most of the students though, not being so fortunate as the visitors, had elected to return to the Great Hall for lunch and were making plans to engage in indoor activities for the afternoon. And when lunch trays began magically appearing in the Visitors section Quirrell glanced over to reassure himself that the headmaster was still playing the ever-gracious host, and that Snape was as determined as ever to witness every single moment of Potter’s debasement.
Quirrell, who was seated near the stairs anyway, took the opportunity to slip away quietly while everyone was distracted by the sumptuous meal sent up by the House-Elves of Hogwarts. He reached the bottom of the stairs and traipsed through the several inches of snow which would no doubt be washed away by rain in the next few days.
He halted briefly by the booth which contained naught but a shivering, naked, bushy haired girl kneeling in the snow, head and hands protruding from the pillory. A sly smile crept to his lips as he took note of the frozen gobs of semen covering most of her face and hair.
For a moment, Quirrell was tempted to take advantage of the situation himself. Unlike Snape, he wasn’t particularly comfortable doing so during classes where he would be as much the centre of attention as the Receptacles. But a little voice in the back of his head warned him to quit wasting time and get on with things.
Quirrell sighed and continued trudging towards the castle. He would have his day soon enough, he told himself, when he would be rewarded beyond measure for his loyalty.
AN:
@ Dauth Daret: Thanks! ... If you're referring to my other stories regarding the regularity of posting, I decided to focus on this story until I got it past a crucial plot point. I should be returning to the others soon - probably in another week or two.
- 17
- 18
- 19
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Mudbloods at Hogwarts