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Hermione Granger's Final Year	By : CharlotteStrong Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 1328 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit fan work based on Harry Potter. I do not own any of the characters, settings, or original storylines. This fanfiction is created purely for entertainment purposes, and no money is being made from this work.

Chapter List
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At seven o’clock the following day Hermione retraced her way to the headteacher’s office. She knocked on the door, and it swung open, revealing Professor McGonagall sat behind her desk. There was something resting on her lap.
“Good evening, Miss Granger. I hope you’ve had a fruitful first day.”
“Yes, Professor. I couldn’t help but notice Crabbe, and Goyle, and Pansy are back, too. Will they be joining us?”
“No, no, I don’t think there’ll be any need for that. I see you’ve met our new Potions teacher?”
“Erm… yes. That was a surprise. Professor, some of the teachers have been making very odd comments about me.”
“Indeed?”
“First Hagrid, then Snape.”
“Well, you’re legally an adult now. I told you over the summer that you might be treated differently.”
“I suppose you’re right. Professor, what’s that in your lap?”
“That, Miss Granger, is our next course of business.”
Hermione gasped as Professor McGonagall stood, and flung off her robes. She took a step back, too shocked to speak.
McGonagall was completely naked underneath, and- Hermione had to admit- had the body of a much younger woman. She was slim, and her breasts were ample. But that wasn’t the most shocking thing. Dangling from her crotch was an appendage the size of Hermione’s forearm. She stared at it, mouth open, as it drooped against her knee.
“What’s wrong, Granger? Never seen a woman with bollocks as big as mine?”
“No… no! Professor, what’s going on?” she blurted.
“It’s a stressful job, being the headmistress of Hogwarts. Sometimes even I must find a way to release some tension.”
“What do you mean, release some tension?”
“We spoke in our meeting over the summer of how some of the staff might start to see you in a different light. Of course, we would never think about our younger students in such a way. But you are of age now.”
“But…” she motioned at McGonagall’s drooping appendage. “How even…?” she stammered, unable to take her eyes of the headteacher’s hulking accessory.
“Please, Miss Granger, you know very well I am a master of Transfiguration. I could give you one, too, if you liked.”
“N… no! No, thank you! Is this that special arrangement you mentioned?”
“We’ve had to pull a lot of strings to let you stay, you know. Crabbe and Goyle failed their year, but you were a different case.”
“What… what is the special arrangement? What do you want me to do?”
One part of her wanted to turn and walk straight back down the office staircase. But another part, an inborn inquisitiveness, wanted to know what McGonagall had in mind.
“There might be things asked of you over the coming year. Things you never imagined you might do in a school.” McGonagall strode towards her, her massive member knocking against her thighs as she walked. “Things that you didn’t even know you wanted to do.”
“What about Pansy? Are you making her do this?”
“We’re not making you, Granger. We’re not so medieval. But the school has done you a great service at severe inconvenience to allow you to stay on. Suffice to say there is more than one way you can gain extra credit to ensure yourself of the grades you need. Beside, Pansy’s mother made a very convincing argument.”
“What did she do?”
“She got on her knees, and stuffed all twelve inches down her slimy gaping throat. I never liked the woman much. And I must say I rather enjoyed the pleasure of ruining that pretty little mouth. I’ve never seen someone’s eyes water so much.”
“She… she did what? Professor, I couldn’t…”
“Oh, dear girl, I’m not expecting you to do anything so extreme. Not yet, anyway. Lessons start tomorrow, I can’t have you choking up my cum in class, can I? Why don’t you start by holding it? Go on.”
“Professor, I couldn’t! It’s… It’s…”
“It’s like a hose pipe, I know. I could’ve gone bigger, but I thought this was large enough.”
“How long have you…”
“Oh, it comes and goes. Hopefully it’ll be cumming quite soon. Now,” she scooped a hand under it as if she was holding a python, and presented it to Hermione. “Just give it a rub.”
“Do I have to?”
Part of her, a twisted, inward part, hopes she’d say yes. She had no idea how it had come to this, but just staring at the bulbous shaft made something inside her tingle furiously.
“You don’t have to. That isn’t what the arrangement is. But we’re here now. And, if truth be told, I think you’ll start enjoying it.”
“Well… I suppose I…”
Without quite realising why, Hermione lifted her hands. She needed both of them. She gently placed them around the bulging shaft and relived the professor of the weight.
“There, there!” she said. “But I fear you’ll need to be rougher than that. Grasp it, Miss Granger. Wrap your hands around by cock.”
Hermione conceded a small smile. “Never did I imagine I’d hear that from my Transfiguration teacher.”
She did as she was told, and as she rearranged her hands realised that Professor McGonagall’s penis was now standing of its own accord.
“It’s getting… harder!”
“Yes, yes, it does that. Now, it’s been a long summer. I doubt this will take long.”
“What won’t?”
McGonagall rolled her eyes. “For a witch so intelligent in academia, you show a great ignorance for the affairs of lust. Wank me off, girl! Rub my member! Shake me so hard that I can paint the ceiling white!”
Again, Hermione felt herself obeying the command without questioning it.
“Like this?” she said, as she gripped it, moving her hands up and down the now-rigid shaft.
“Harder, girl! Faster!”
Hermione shook wrung her hands faster, realising only now that he wanted to feel every inch of it. Near the base, her testicles shook violently, each one big enough to fill a fist.
“Here we go!” McGonagall groaned.
“Professor, are you-”
But Hermione didn’t have chance to finish her question. McGonagall directed herself at the young woman and let loose across her. Hermione gasped in shock as her face took the brunt of it, the white sticky strands showered across her cheeks and hair. She closed her eyes as some dripped down onto her clothes. Professor McGonagall let out a long sigh.
“Did you enjoy that, Miss Granger?”
“Not as much as you, apparently!” she said, wiping cum from around her mouth.
“Don’t just leave me like this. Where are your manners? Mop me up!”
“With what?”
“Your mouth, dear.”
She hesitated. But when the Professor didn’t move, didn’t give any indication of sarcasm or humour, Hermione accepted it. She opened her mouth, and moved it towards the glistening tip. And as she started to lick, she felt an innate curiosity being fulfilled.
“That’s it, Granger.”
As if in a trance, she opened her mouth, and stuffed the slippery tip into it, revolving her tongue around it to clean up every congealed drop. And once she was satisfied, she looked at the Professor.
“Was that good enough?”
“You missed a bit.” She gestured at a stream that had dribbled down almost to the base.
Hermione got on her knees, stuck out her tongue, and licked her way up the whole length of the cock.”
“Well,” McGonagall said, striding back to her desk and re-robing herself. That was quite a performance. Shall we say same time next week?”
“Is this how this arrangement is going to work?”
“Do you have any objections?”
Hermione thought for a second. “No.”
“Good. Then next week it shall be. Goodnight.” Hermione turned to leave, still making efforts to wipe the cum from her face and hair. “Oh, and Granger? You’ll need clean robes, tomorrow. Next time, we’ll make sure you take them off so you don’t ruin another set.”
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Hermione Granger's Final Year