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Back to School	By : Wimp36 Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 16357 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, any of its characters, premises, or related information from either the books or movies. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
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2 - Return

Hermione sat back in her seat on the Hogwarts Express as the English countryside whipped by her window. Her compartment, which she had to herself, felt lonely, but also like a badge of honor. From time to time other students walked past and risked quick, furtive glances through the window, talking in hushed, almost reverent, whispers. She ignored them as best she could, focusing instead on her book.

After the climactic battle of the previous year, the grateful wizarding world had nearly bent over backwards for its heroes. Harry and Ron had accepted honorary degrees and postings in the Auror Corps, but Hermione had refused, insisting that she return and finish her degree the right way. And so here she was, speeding back to Hogwarts for another year, but in the absence of most of her friends. Neville, Seamus, Lavender, Parvati, Padma, and Susan had graduated on time, and would not be returning. Ginny had dropped out following an offer from the Hollyhead Harpies and Luna had taken a transfer to Beauxbatons. The only other “eighth years” that she would be sharing the school with were Dean Thomas — who, alone of the muggle borns forced out of the school had opted to return — and Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy’s return irked her, and not entirely for personal reasons. While the Hogwarts Board of Governors had chosen to grant degrees to most of the previous batch of seventh years, they had decided, against strong opposition from the teachers, that those Slytherin students who might have graduated must have been unfairly favored by Voldemort’s regime, and had not earned their credentials. Most of the students either appealed that decision and, after an independent round of testing were granted their diplomas. A few, like Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass, had opted, like Luna, to finish their educations abroad. Several simply dropped away. Alone of that batch of Slytherins, Malfoy had accepted the humiliating edict, and would return.

The three of them — Hermione, Dean, and Draco — were to be given somewhat special treatment. Professor McGonagall hadn’t liked the idea of rooming the eighth years with the seventh years, since it might be disruptive to extant group dynamics, but there were no spare dormitories. The solution had been to give each of them private quarters in the castle, since there were far more teachers’ apartments than there were teachers who wanted to live in the castle.

Hermione would also be receiving private tutoring in a few areas. Her transfiguration, charms, potions, and defense skills were all well beyond what was expected of N.E.W.T. students, so she would be receiving private tutoring in all of those areas. She looked forward particularly to the defense lessons, as there were rumors that McGonagall had recruited a semi-retired dark wizard hunter and international dueling champion to fill that role.

Another batch of whispers shattered what little attention Hermione was able to give to her book and she shut it with a sigh, glancing up at the door.

“Sorry, Hermione,” stammered one of the girls, a third year Hufflepuff. She raised an eyebrow at the group. “Sorry!” They all scurried off down the carriage. Hermione rolled her eyes, flicked her wand at the door and windows to the hall, turning them opaque and locking them, and turned to stare out the window, eventually drifting off to sleep.

She woke when the train began to slow on its way into Hogsmeade station. Blinking sleep from her eyes and banishing thoughts of Ron from her head — he had made an appearance in her dreams — she shrank her trunk, pocketed it, and apparated to the front gates of the castle, wondering why she hadn’t just done so in the first place. Nostalgia, she supposed.

She made her way across the green swath of lawn and let herself into the castle, likely before the carriages had even left the station below.

“Good evening, Miss Granger,” came the voice of Professor McGonagall. “Are the carriages here already? I wasn’t expecting them for another twenty minutes or so.”

“Hello, professor. No. I took a shortcut and then walked up.”

“Of course.”

“Would it be all right if I skipped the feast? I’m not sure I need the attention tonight.”

“Certainly. I’ll show you to your rooms. I’m sure that the attention will ebb after a few days. If it doesn’t it means that the teachers aren’t working their pupils hard enough and I’ll need to step in. This way.”

She lead Hermione up the grand staircase and the down a series of twisting hallways.

“Will you still be teaching Transfiguration this year, Professor?” Asked Hermione.

“Only for the first years and the N.E.W.T. students. And for your private lessons, of course. I’ve dragged a few older wizards out of retirement to teach the other levels as well as Defense Against the Dark Arts. Here we are.”

She stopped in front of a nondescript door.

“I was planning on talking to you after the feast, but since I have you now, I have a few things to say. Firstly, I’m very glad that you’ve come back. I had hoped that Potter and Weasley might as well, but I can’t say I’m surprised. Your return is a much needed vote of confidence in the school, so I thank you. Second, since you are legally an adult and have demonstrated considerable responsibility, you won’t be bound by many of the rules that apply to other students. You may keep your own hours and come and go from the castle as you please, and you will not have a curfew. So long as you keep up on your studies, none of the teachers will mind you not attending class on a daily basis.”

Hermione’s head came up in surprise.

“Not that I think you’ll take me up on that,” added McGonagall with a small smile. “I should get back to the Great Hall. Good evening, Miss Granger.”

“Good evening, Professor.”

As McGonagall left, Hermione let herself into her rooms. There were four: a sitting room, a small study, a large bedroom, and a huge private bathroom. She sighed, sending her trunk drifting towards the bedroom. It opened as it glided across the floor, spewing books out the fill the shelves as it went. She kicked off her shoes and dropped her robe, flicking her wand to send them to rest or hang near the door, and flopped into an armchair. Another flick of her wand had a fire blazing in her hearth.

A popping sound drew her attention and she looked up to see a smartly dressed house elf — in a miniature suit and tie — standing near the door.

“Good evening, Miss,” he said. “We have been informed that you won’t be attending the feast. May we bring you some food here?”

“Yes, please,” said Hermione, and the elf vanished. She smiled. It wasn’t officially attributed to her, but a law had been quietly passed over the summer that freed all house elves, requiring their former masters to give back pay and to ensure that their former charges were adequately provided for.

The elf reappeared a moment later with a heavily-laden tray: half a roast chicken, a bowl of roasted potatoes and carrots, gravy, a small loaf of bread with butter, another bowl of dressed greens, a bottle of wine, and an apple tart.

“The headmistress instructed us that you are permitted to drink,” explained the elf when Hermione questioned the inclusion of wine. “We think that it pairs nicely with the chicken.”

“Thank you,” said Hermione, tucking into her food as the elf vanished. The food was good, but the wine was exceptionally good, and Hermione found herself polishing off the entire bottle. When another elf arrived to take her dishes away, she asked if she might have another, and the elf happily obliged. Fresh glass in hand, Hermione shed her remaining clothes and stepped into her private bathroom. She filled the tub and slipped into the hot, soapy water with a sigh.

As she soaked, her mind drifted to Ron and her free hand drifted between her legs. The adventures of the previous year, terrifying as they were, had included many a sexual awakening, not that she’d been so innocent coming into everything. Even before becoming intimate with Ron during the summer after their sixth year, she’d already had a little experience with Viktor (mutual oral sex), and a boy from her hometown, as well as with Parvati and Lavender (three open-minded pubescent girls could hardly cohabitate for the entire duration of their teen years without at least trying a few things), but while on the run with Harry and Ron, their evenings had been unbearable before they began to take advantage of the opportunity for a new level of intimacy.

While on the run, sex had an escapist aspect, as it was just about the only thing that could actually take their minds off their peril for any extended period of time. It had all been surprisingly delicate, even when she and Ron had started to more actively embrace Harry’s occasionally submissive nature. She distinctly remembered the first time Harry took Ron’s cock as a highlight of their time together. When Ron had left them she had stepped into that role, donning a harness and strapon for the first time to give him the release that he needed so badly.

After their victory, sex became purely ecstatic, and she and Ron had spent the entire summer fucking like rabbits, often joined by Harry, Ginny, and Luna in what felt like a never-ending bachanallia of depravity. They’d agreed to a completely open relationship before parting ways at King’s Cross, since Ron’s new job likely wouldn’t leave him much time to visit, and Hermione’s schedule would be equally taxing.

Thinking about how they parted, Hermione’s hand began to rub more vigorously.

“I can’t believe I’m not going to see you until Christmas,” said Ron, planting a kiss on her neck.

“I can’t believe I have to got three months without this,” replied Hermione, grasping Ron’s throbbing erection. He growled and hefted her up onto the counter and she opened her legs to welcome him inside, grunting as always as the sheer size of him stretched her so fully.

“I’d better make this one count, then,” grunted Ron, managing after a few thrusts to fully sheathe himself inside of her.

“Oh, fuck!” Screamed Hermione, leaning up to kiss him fiercely, “Fuck me, Ron! Fuck. Me. Fuck. Me. Hard!”

Ron picked up his pace, the sound of his balls slapping against her bare ass filling the dingy room. The door rattled as someone tried to enter, but Hermione had planned ahead, locking it magically.

“Oi!” Shouted a voice from outside, “this is a public loo! You can’t lock the door!” A fist banged on the door. “I’m going to go get station security!”

Hermione laughed as Ron plowed faster.

“Merlin’s saggy balls, Hermione,” he growled. “Your cunt is the best thing in the world!”

Hermione could only cry out wordlessly as her first orgasm tore through her. As she came down slightly from the peak she regained control of her tongue.

“Come in me!” She ordered, wrapping her legs around Ron to draw him closer. With a bellow like a maddened bull, he complied, pumping his seed deep into her spasming pussy. They kissed for a long minute.

“What’s the time?” She asked. Ron checked his watch.

“Ten before the hour.”

“The train doesn’t leave until half past,” she said, sliding off the counter and kneeling on the dirty floor next to her discarded panties. Cum leaked out of her to drip onto the tiles and the reached down to scoop some of it into her mouth. “We should have time for you to fill another hole before then.”

She took his rapidly re-hardening cock into her mouth and, with considerable effort, managed to take it all the way into her throat, locking watering eyes with his lust-filled ones. She pulled back, a string of thick saliva hanging for a moment between his cock and her lips before snapping and adding to the sheen that covered her breasts.

Standing, she entered one of the cubicles, bent over, and placed her hands on the seat of the toilet.

“Make me feel it, Ron.”

The memory faded as a new orgasm came, soft and subtle by comparison to the mind-shattering ones of earlier in the day, but still very satisfying. Hermione relaxed deeper into the tub, setting aside the dildo she'd conjured in her frenzy. She could indeed still feel the after effects of Ron’s efforts. She really would miss him, and definitely couldn’t go three months without the real thing. Tomorrow, the hunt would begin.
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