Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Polyjuice	By : Dazzlious Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 32326 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from J K Rowling's fantastic books or films, I'm just borrowing and playing with them for a little while and get no monetary reward for doing so

Chapter List
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A/N: I want to say a HUGE thank you to my wonderful beta, Mamacita who among other things has done a marvellous job of taming my terrible punctuation and given me much useful feedback.
Ithilwen, Mignonette, Werewolfhime, Slytherin-Princess, Megan, Citten and Voracious Reader — thank you so much for your kind reviews. I'm intending to update the story regularly and yes, Citten the story is quite long. Dx

The room was dimly lit, a warm glow coming from a fireplace in front of which was a large furry rug. There was also a large leather sofa and a small table containing a silver ice bucket with a bottle of champagne. Two exquisite champagne flutes were on the table next to it. Hermione smiled. At least her fantasy idea of a romantic location had been fulfilled.
She looked around the rest of the room, not entirely surprised by Ron’s idea of romance.
The room was beautifully decorated in the reds and golds of Gryffindor, something that both of them would have envisioned, she was sure — but what was clearly Ron’s area of the room contained the biggest bed she had ever seen in her life. She couldn’t help but smile as she saw it, her hand covering her mouth. No prizes for guessing what Ron was hoping for, then.
Ron had entered behind her, unable to hide his glee at the contents of the room. He looked around at the fireplace and his eyebrows rose, a slow smile crossing his face as his imagination fired up, seeing the possibilities in Hermione’s choice of décor.
He slid his arms around her waist again, pressing himself against her, his cock already hard as his mouth once again found her neck. He knew she had enjoyed that in the corridor; he had sensed her attempt to stifle a moan of pleasure. But now they were in here there was no need to keep quiet.
His hands began to travel her body, lightly caressing her from the shoulders downward, his mouth pressing whisper-soft kisses down her neck and lower, under the collar of her blouse.
‘So beautiful,’ he whispered into her hair. He felt her shiver against him and held her tighter, his lips leaving a trail of kisses across her face until they finally reached her own plumply seductive ones.
Ron pulled her round to face him and kissed her deeply, his tongue plundering her mouth, finding hers and taking it captive. Hermione moaned and he felt himself stiffen further, his desire for this beautiful girl almost at breaking point.
For a second he considered leading her towards the bed, imagining himself pushing her onto it beneath him, but he resisted. Obviously, Hermione would be more likely to give in to her own fantasies, and he was happy to take part in those instead. The bed could be used later tonight or even another time altogether; after all, the Room of Requirement was always there.
Reluctantly releasing Hermione from his grasp, Ron took her hand and led her over to the sofa, politely seating her. Then he opened the champagne and poured them both a glass. He offered her one of the flutes.
‘Are you trying to get me drunk?’ Hermione asked lightly.
‘Of course,’ Ron admitted, smiling.
Hermione laughed and accepted the glass, taking a small sip of the champagne. ‘Tastes good,’ she said with an answering smile.
Ron took a sip and grimaced. Champagne was not to his taste at all, but he would persevere so Hermione would keep drinking.
‘Shall I sit next to you or do you want to sit in front of the fire?’ he asked her.
Hermione looked at Ron with interest. She wasn’t surprised that he had chosen to go with her fantasies — he had obviously worked out that he had a better chance of getting what he wanted that way — but what did surprise her was his manners. He wasn’t a complete thug like Crabbe and Goyle, but he was a bit of a jock and she had never known him to be as polite as he was being this evening. It was as if he was a completely different person — definitely not the Ron who had stuffed himself as full as he could in the Great Hall only a couple of hours ago. However, she wasn’t about to argue. She took another sip of her champagne and considered his question.
‘The rug would be nice,’ she replied. She was pleased to see Ron’s smile grow even wider as he took her hand and helped her from the sofa down onto the rug. He sat down next to her, running his hand gently through her hair as she took yet another sip of her drink.
Hermione put down her glass and leant forward to kiss him on the lips, gently at first but soon growing more passionate as his hands caressed her face and neck, his mouth gently biting her lips as they kissed. It wasn’t long before Ron had pushed her down on her back on the rug, his mouth still on hers, his tongue wrapped around her tongue, his hands now moving their way down her body until he was slowly caressing her breasts through her jumper and blouse.
‘You’re wearing far too many clothes,’ he complained quietly during a brief break in the kissing.
Ron urged her up a little and rucked her jumper up around her so he could pull it off. Hermione realised his jumper was already gone. Then his hands were back on her breasts; his thumbs brushed lightly over her nipples, making them harden even through her remaining clothes as he continued to kiss her.
‘I want to touch you, Hermione,’ he whispered in her ear, his hot breath making her gasp. ‘Please . . . .’
His fingers were already working on the buttons on her blouse. He undid them slowly, brushing her bare skin as each new bit was revealed. Once the final button was undone he pushed the blouse apart, revealing her full, hard breasts encased in a sensible cotton and lace bra — no sexy underwear for Hermione Granger. Ron’s mouth was back on her throat, kissing and licking as he worked his way slowly towards her breasts. He reached under her back to release the catch on her bra and pulled it away from her, finally releasing those beautiful orbs.
He slipped the straps down her arms but the sleeves of her shirt were in the way, so, fixing his eyes on her intently, he wordlessly urged her up so he could remove them. Wanting to bury his face in them but knowing that he had to take it slowly, he found her mouth again, his tongue pressing once more into hers, claiming her for his own.
Hermione’s heart was beating faster than she had ever felt it. Even after all these years of fancying Ron and indulging in many different fantasies about him, she had never realised what the reality of being with him would be like. Part of her was embarrassed as he started to undress her, but another part of her wanted him to touch her — wanted him to want her as much as he obviously did.
She was momentarily mortified when he saw her boring underwear. She had never gone for anything more sensual, practical was always her watchword, and now she wished she’d had the foresight to buy something sexier. But it didn’t seem to matter to him, he wasn’t that interested in the packaging.
Ron’s mouth finally broke away from hers and he kissed his way to her now exposed breasts. His tongue flicked over her left nipple and then his mouth closed over it, sucking it deep inside. His hand reached out to play with the other nipple, not wanting it to feel neglected. Hermione moaned; her back arching slightly as he pleasured her.
As she cried out in delight, Ron’s fingers and mouth continued their gentle labour, Hermione’s breaths coming faster and shallower the more aroused she became. Ron found the bottle of champagne and tipped it over her breasts. Hermione gasped as the cold liquid hit her hot body, and Ron’s mouth eagerly lapped at the sparkling wine and the stiff nipples that were responding to it. He continued to pour slowly, filling her mouth with the wine before replacing the bottle and going back to his exploration of Hermione’s body.
His hands travelled inexorably downward. His legs had already moved in between Hermione’s, but until now he had taken no notice of that. Ron ran his hand up her leg, bunching up her skirt as he caressed the top of her thigh and moved higher to run a finger around the elastic of her knickers. He felt Hermione stiffen slightly as he did so, but more kissing and his whispered assertions of his feelings for her made her relax as his fingers brushed over the damp cotton.
Slowly they slid under the elastic, brushing over her clitoris and rubbing down her tight slit. Ron revelled in the small whimpers and mewling sounds Hermione made in her throat as he touched her, enjoying the wetness he had so obviously caused. His mouth found hers again and he kissed her passionately, wanting only to give her as much pleasure as she was giving him without even trying.
Hermione couldn’t help the small moans that she released as Ron’s hand slid into her knickers. She hadn’t meant to go so far with him, but it felt so good she didn’t want him to stop. His mouth found hers again and she latched on, trying not to moan as he pulled down her knickers and removed them. Then his hand was back again and he slid his fingers into her tight pussy, so hard inside her.
‘Please, Ron . . .’ she whimpered as his mouth nibbled its way down her throat again.
‘What’s the matter, love?’ he whispered, his fingers still moving between her legs and on her breast.
Hermione just moaned as he brought her closer to climax, her body reacting to every slight touch from her lover. Ron smiled. Everything was going even better than he had expected. He was sure he would claim Hermione’s virginity, the ultimate prize, before they were finished.
He lifted his mouth from hers and once again kissed his way down her body, first taking in those wonderful breasts then this time continuing down over her stomach and lower still. His tongue slid down over her darkly haired mound and between her thighs, dallying at her plump, engorged clit for a moment before snaking into the gorgeous wetness that was her pussy. He moaned with pleasure as he finally tasted her, aroused to even greater heights by her cries of passion in response to his tongue.
It wasn’t long before Hermione was begging him to stop, the explorations with his tongue too much for her sensitive body. She bucked and cried out, begging him to take pity on her. Ron laughed and slid his tongue over her pussy again. He had no intention of showing any mercy. Instead, he intended to use her desperation to get the one thing he so wanted: his hard cock in her tight pussy.
Ignoring her begging, he continued to flick his tongue over her pussy and clit. Finally, he moved back up her body to capture her mouth, his fingers taking the place of his tongue down below. Ron listened to Hermione’s breathing, so much louder and harsher than usual. His tongue claimed hers and his unoccupied hand gripped her head and held it to his tightly for the most intensely erotic kiss they had ever shared.
Releasing her head, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.
‘Touch me, Hermione . . . please,’ he begged as he continued to hold her close. ‘I want you to touch me. I need you to touch me.’
Hermione looked at Ron and realised with a shock that he was still fully dressed, while she was almost naked. Trembling slightly from nervousness and from the passion that still coursed through her, she quickly unbuttoned Ron’s shirt and pulled it off him to reveal his large, muscular chest. She slowly ran her hand down it, fingers caressing his already hard nipples, and was rewarded with a moan.
Emboldened by his cries, she traced a line down over his stomach with her fingers and bent to flick her tongue at his nipples. Her fingers wandered lower and eventually came to the tangle of hair just above his trousers.
Taking a deep breath, she reached out to undo Ron’s trousers, realising as she did so that he, too, had been holding his breath. The rushed exhale as he raised himself slightly so she could pull the trousers off would have given away his excitement, had the huge bulge in his pants not already done so.
Hermione closed her eyes briefly, nerving herself for the next stage. She had never done anything like this before. Although she had often dreamed of her and Ron being together, her fantasies had never included graphic representations of their anatomy but rather a vague, romantic imagining of coupling.
Ron’s hand ran gently down her face, stroking her cheek.
‘Please, Hermione,’ he whispered.
She nodded slightly and, licking her lips nervously, reached out to tug at the waistband of his pants, gasping quietly as his hard erection sprang free from the discarded clothing. Her hand brushed over his hardness and Ron moaned louder.
‘Oh, Hermione . . . oh, love . . . .’
Hermione wrapped her fingers around him, squeezing gently at first and increasing the pressure when she realised Ron was enjoying it and she wasn’t hurting him. Ron had closed his eyes and lay back on the rug, an expression of pure pleasure on his face as she continued to touch him. His moans gave her a shiver of excitement.
Suddenly he sat up and grabbed her and pushed her down on the rug, flipping them so he was on top of her. His strong hands held her arms down and his chest pressed into hers. Hermione gasped at the contact of his bare flesh against her breasts; it was like a tingle of electricity through her whole body.
Ron’s mouth was on hers again, the kisses as deeply arousing as they had ever shared, and his hands fumbled with her skirt, determined to remove that final barrier between them. Once it was gone he rubbed his whole body against hers, a deep guttural growl erupting from him as Hermione arched against him, small cries of pleasure escaping her lips. As his mouth planted burning kisses over her face and neck Ron whispered to her, his hands caressed her hot skin, feeling goose bumps of desire rising as he touched her.
‘I want you, my love,’ he whispered, his voice that perfect measure of desire and desperation. ‘I need to make love to you, to make you completely mine, Hermione.’
Hermione stiffened slightly, her nervousness replaced by something stronger. She definitely hadn’t meant to let things get this far, but now she couldn’t refuse Ron his request. She, too, wanted the completeness that copulation would bring them but she was scared. Logically she knew that the pain of the first time couldn’t be that bad or no one would ever have sex, but the prospect of it was enough to make her shake.
Ron obviously sensed her worry and soothed her with his lips, assuring her that the pain wouldn’t last long, that the pleasure would override any initial discomfort. For a second Hermione wondered how Ron knew that. Who had he had sex with before? But she didn’t want to think of him with anyone else. He was finally hers and that was all that mattered right now.
‘I want you too,’ she admitted quietly, blushing slightly as she said it, a swell of excitement rising in her as she saw the huge smile break out on Ron’s face at her words.
‘You do? Fantastic!’
He bent and kissed her again, a slow, languorous kiss that reached her very soul as his body continued to rub against hers.
After a few moments, she felt his hardness pressing against her tight entrance. He moaned in ecstasy at the feel of her wetness. His bright blue eyes bored into hers, the desire evident in them.
‘Tell me you want me,’ he begged.
‘I do,’ Hermione replied, her voice no more than a whisper. ‘Oh Ron, I want you to make love to me . . . I want you inside me.’
With a roar of triumph, Ron’s mouth swooped to capture hers again briefly.
‘Remember it won’t hurt for long,’ he promised as he guided himself inside her, his hands grabbing at her hips as he thrust into her, a deep guttural sound of pleasure erupting from him as he buried himself deep.
The pain made Hermione cry out. It wasn't excruciating but it was painful enough for her to consider pushing Ron away. But there was no point in doing that, her virginity was gone and he had told her it would get better. Biting her lip and clenching her hands into fists, she tried to blot out the uncomfortable feeling. Tears sprang into her eyes as Ron pulled back, then thrust again, sending another shock of pain through her. He stopped and looked at her in concern, his hand moving to caress her cheek as he bent to kiss her.
‘I’m sorry, love,’ he whispered. ‘Not much longer, I promise. The pain will stop soon.’
Hermione nodded. ‘It’s fine,’ she lied. Now that they were doing it the last thing she needed was for Ron to get fed up with her because she was being a stupid crybaby. She gave a wan smile and forced herself to move her lower body enticingly, eliciting a moan from her lover.
‘Carry on,’ she urged.
Ron kissed her once more as he pulled back, then slid deep inside her again. As he had promised, the pain did end, slowly turning into an exquisite feeling as his hard cock continued to pound her. Soon both of them were moaning from the deliciousness of it. Ron’s hand moved to rub her clit, making Hermione whimper, and his lips burned a trail down her throat as he thrust hard into her, revelling in her tightness and the exquisite feel of her wrapped around him, even better than he had imagined it would be.
Hermione was close to climaxing now. She could feel an unbearable sensation inside her amplified by Ron’s fingers on her clit and she bucked against him, desperately wanting every inch of his hardness inside her. She cried out as her muscles contracted, squeezing hard on Ron and making him cry out in pleasure too. He stroked her hair, his eyes focussing on hers.
‘Come for me, Hermione,’ he breathed. ‘Give yourself to me completely.’
At his words Hermione cried out again, the feelings so intense she couldn’t stop herself. Her orgasm exploded and she was lost, carried away on a wave of bliss, barely hearing the words of love and encouragement that Ron whispered to her.
And still, he thrust into her, his own climax mere seconds away as her tight body contracted around him, milking him of his come. With a final feral scream of jubilation, he pushed as deep as he could and emptied himself inside of her, claiming her as his, marking her for all time as his lover. With a low moan, he pulled out of her and rolled onto his side, pulling her into his embrace, his hands gently caressing the soft skin that now belonged to him.
Ron’s heart was pounding in his ears as he kissed her neck and shoulders, excitement still coursing through him as he felt little aftershocks of pleasure at what they had just done. Hermione looked beautiful, her eyes heavy with the sensations that she obviously still felt too, her lips swollen from the rough kisses he had inflicted upon her. She turned to face him with a drowsy, sated smile and he kissed her once more, thoroughly enjoying the taste of her.
‘Oh, my beautiful Hermione,’ he whispered. ‘You felt so good, so perfect, even for a Mudblood.’
Hermione stiffened and looked at Ron, her eyes widening in shock.
‘What did you just say?’ she asked, horrified.
Ron stroked her arm soothingly.
‘I just said you were perfect. What’s the matter, love?’
Hermione, distraught, pulled away from Ron and frenziedly began to gather up her clothes.
‘You called me a — a Mudblood!’ she accused. Ron looked at her in confusion.
‘No I didn’t,’ he said. ‘Why would I call you something like that?’
‘You did!’ Hermione cried, pulling her clothes on as quickly as she could. ‘I can’t believe you did that, Ron. I thought you loved me — you told me you loved me!’
‘But I do love you, Hermione.’ Ron looked distressed now as he watched the girl dress. He started to move towards her but she ducked out of his reach. ‘Come back here, you silly girl.’
Hermione glared at him. ‘You’re no better than Malfoy,’ she stated coldly. ‘You told me all that blood-status stuff was rubbish, but all this time you’ve been just as bigoted as him.’
She saw Ron scowl at her mention of Malfoy but she didn’t care. It was true. He was the same as Malfoy if he really thought she was a Mudblood. She had finished dressing and was moving towards the door. Ron got to his feet and tried to grab her but missed.
‘I gave myself to you because I loved you — thought you loved me,’ Hermione said sadly. ‘But all this time you’ve thought of me as a Mudblood. Obviously, I was nothing more to you than a conquest, Ronald, nothing more than a quick shag.’
Sobbing, she fled the room, leaving Ron looking after her in surprise.

Hermione ran all the way back to Gryffindor tower, desperately trying not to think about what had just happened. She couldn’t stop the tears that were falling or the heavy sobs that wracked her chest, making running difficult, but she had to get away from Ron, from the terrible thing he had just done to her. Arriving at the portrait hole she had to catch her breath. The Fat Lady was looking at her in concern.
‘Are you all right, dear?’ she asked kindly.
Hermione nodded, realising how dishevelled she must look, ‘I’ll be fine. I just need to get back to my room. Flitterbloom.’
‘Well, if you’re sure,’ the Fat Lady replied uncertainly, and the door swung open.
Hermione climbed into the common room and dashed towards the stairs to the girls’ dormitories without bothering to check who was sitting there. She didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. She just wanted to get to her room and have a hot shower; to rid herself of the smell of Ron that was still all around her, and to wash away the memories of an evening that should have been the most perfect of her life but had, in one fell swoop, turned into the worst. She was glad that as Head Girl she had her own room and didn’t have to see anyone for the rest of the night.
Harry saw Hermione enter the common room. She was obviously incredibly distressed and looked a real mess, her usual immaculate dress completely in a shambles. He started to get up to go and see if she was okay, but she charged past them, not even noticing them as she ran for the stairs, heading up to the girls’ dormitories where he and Ron couldn’t go. He looked at Ron, who sat in the chair opposite him.
‘What do you think is the matter with Hermione?’ Harry asked with concern.
Ron shrugged. ‘Probably time of the month or something. You never know with her. Let’s face it, she is a bit mental sometimes.’
Harry nodded slowly, but he thought that somehow that wasn’t quite right. Although Ron was right and Hermione did get a bit mental sometimes, this seemed . . . he didn’t know, it just seemed . . . more. More than what, he wasn’t sure. He sighed.
‘She’s probably got a sulk on because we didn’t go and drag her out of the Library like we usually do,’ Ron said.
Harry looked at him. ‘Well, that’s your fault, Ron. You were the one who challenged me to a game of chess. We should have gone to find her before we started playing. No wonder she was annoyed, us completely forgetting her like that.’
Ron sighed. ‘Okay, you’re right. I’ll apologise to her at breakfast. Hopefully, she’ll have calmed down by then.’ He looked rueful.
‘But I wonder where she’s been?’ Harry mused. ‘She can’t have been in the Library all this time, surely?’ And her dishevelled state indicated against that too, he thought.
‘This is Hermione we’re talking about, mate,’ Ron said. ‘She’d live in the bloody Library if she could.’
Harry didn’t respond. He was still wondering why Hermione looked as if she had just got dressed in a hurry.
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