Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Mudbloods at Hogwarts	By : Gandalfs-Beard Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 290991 -:- 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
- 4
- 5
- 6
Being With You

Dumbledore watched Lucius Malfoy departing from his office and sighed again. Then he decided he needed another brandy. Fawkes ruffled his feathers and trilled.
“Quite right, Fawkes! It is too early...” The headmaster was interrupted by a knock on his door, no doubt his next expected visitor. “Do come in,” he called out wearily.
Snape entered Dumbledore’s office, his glittering black eyes catching the brandy snifter in the headmaster’s hand. Snape said nothing as he took a seat uncomfortably before the headmaster, presuming correctly that the brandy was Dumbledore’s way of easing the discomfort of his meetings.
“Well Severus,” Dumbledore sighed after taking a sip, “You did rather force my hand yesterday, didn’t you? Could you not have at least waited a few months before taking your revenge on James Potter’s son?”
“My apologies headmaster!” said Snape stiffly, lifting one eyebrow. “But you did indicate that Potter’s role as a potential sacrifice to prevent the return of the Dark Lord made him uniquely suited to become a Receptacle in the meantime - despite being the last of the Potter line. It is quite rare to choose another from among the muggle-raised to become such mid-term... and in any case, Potter and his little groupie sorely tested my patience.”
Dumbledore stroked his long silvery beard as he considered Snape’s words, then he nodded.
“You do have a point, Severus,” Dumbledore agreed. “Though I do find it more regretful than you that the Potter line should end in such an ignominious fashion, it is a small price to pay for the Greater Good. The wizard world can ill afford another war.
“The Grand Bargain must be preserved, and Voldemort’s possible return threatens all. For now, all of his former supporters are quite happy with the compromise, and they are as eager as we to ensure that Voldemort’s demise is permanent...”
The corners of Snape’s lips curled into a sardonic smirk. “You claim to be regretful... yet is that not some measure of satisfaction I see in your eyes when you bear witness to the plight of those chosen to be Receptacles - including that of Potter and his little friend?”
Dumbledore’s forehead crinkled as his bushy eyebrows rose. The look the headmaster shot back was nearly as wry as that of his Potions Master.
“I confess to some amusement,” Dumbledore admitted. “After lo these ten years of compromise, I have grown accustomed to the status of the muggle-born-and-raised in our society - it seems less egregious than the extermination originally promised by those who claimed Voldemort as their figurehead.
“The purebloods were willing to accept the adjusted station of the muggleborn, and to end the practice of sport-hunting muggles, after Voldemort’s apparent demise as part of the settlement to end the war with no more bloodshed and to share power. And as time wore on, I have come to appreciate the entertainment which those of low status can provide as much as anyone else has.
“And there you have it - I am not proud of what compromising some of my principles has done to me, but I can lay no claim to being wholly immune from the intoxication that comes with wielding power over a class designated to bear the burden of servitude and submission. ... Yes, if it gives you gratification to hear that I am as susceptible to some measure of venality as any other man, then so be it. ... By all means, revel in my debasement if it pleases you.”
“Oh, I will indeed.” Snape’s smirk grew broader. “I myself must confess, being in your service became much easier once you gave yourself over to the Grand Bargain. Putting up with your self-righteousness was growing tiresome! ... Of the muggleborn, it was only ever Lily Evans whom I coveted, and it was for her alone that I sought vengeance against the Dark Lord. If you have ever believed that I had given up my general disdain for those with no magical lineage, then you would have been wrong.”
“I was never that naive, Severus,” Dumbledore chuckled. “All I had hoped for before the Compromise was that you would keep such thoughts to yourself. And now...”
“...Now you and I are perhaps more alike than not?” Snape suggested.
“As much as it pains me to admit it, yes, Severus. ... In any case, now that we have cleared the air, we must discuss the recent break-in at Gringotts. It would seem to confirm my suspicions that the Shade of Voldemort is seeking the Philosopher’s Stone - and it is my contention that he may be possessing a staff member.
“And of all the staff, our newest colleague, Professor Quirrell’s behaviour seems suspicious to me - please keep an eye on him. In any case, whoever it is, Quirrell or not, it may be that he will seek to discover the Stone’s hiding place before achieving any other goal - but if not, Harry Potter’s presence is also likely to draw him out of hiding.”
“Ah - that then is the real reason that you accepted my premature punishment of Potter with so little umbrage. Potter is to be bait - and then you will no doubt use Potter to fulfill the Prophecy.”
“Quite so, Severus... quite so.” Dumbledore nodded, his eyes twinkling merrily. “I can get naught past you. And with that, I believe we are finished for now. ... If you would, please inform Minerva to meet me in my office for lunch.”
“Of course Headmaster,” said Snape as he rose to his feet.
Once Professor Snape had departed his office, Dumbledore opened one of his desk drawers and peered at the artifacts it contained. Among them, Tom Riddle’s diary, mutilated beyond recognition by a blade imbued with Basilisk venom - the peace offering from Lucius Malfoy which had sparked the negotiations which had eventually led to the Grand Bargain.
And beside it, a Gold Ring with a black gemstone cracked beyond repair - the result of an extensive investigation conducted by Dumbledore and Lucius to uncover any more horcruxes that Voldemort may have made.
And next to both items lay Hufflepuff’s Cup - another priceless artifact unfortunately damaged in the pursuit of destroying its capacity to be a Horcrux - obtained after Lucius Malfoy had imperiused Bellatrix Lestrange and questioned her regarding any odd items Voldemort may have given her for safe-keeping. Then he had sent her to Gringotts to retrieve the item before ordering her to turn herself in to the Ministry - after he had obliviated her of course.
The twisted ruin of Ravenclaw’s Diadem - Dumbledore had found that one himself in a chamber in the castle which most people believed to be myth and rumour. But the Room of Requirement had proven to be very real indeed.
Finally, there was the mangled wreck of the golden locket belonging to Riddle’s father - Slytherin’s Locket - stolen at the same time as the Ring according to Morfin Gaunt. Its location had been the most difficult to uncover, but in the end it was Dumbledore’s own memory of discovering young Tom Riddle in a muggle orphanage which had led to the hidden cave by the sea.
Those were the only Horcruxes of which Dumbledore and Lucius were relatively certain. It was possible that Voldemort had made more, but the priori incantatem performed on the wand found in the rubble of the Potters’ house suggested otherwise.
That only left Potter - Harry’s curious scar. The killing curse generally speaking never left a mark on its victims, and it was unlikely that such a curse rebounding from a protection shield such as that Lily’s sacrifice had provided Harry would leave a scar either - there was no logical reason that it should.
But then there was no logical reason that Voldemort would have exploded from a rebounding curse which ordinarily left no physical signs on its victims either. The only logical conclusion that Dumbledore could draw was that an outburst of accidental magic from young Harry Potter had utterly destroyed Voldemort - an unsettling idea indeed that one so young was capable of producing such immense raw power.
That the boy had the power to defeat the Dark Lord was unquestionable - and it was a dangerous power best carefully managed lest it become uncontrollable. Yet another good reason to keep young Harry Potter ignorant and contained where he could do no harm until it was time to unleash his power upon Voldemort.
Dumbledore wasn’t certain what had caused Harry’s scar, but he could not deny that the mark apparently bestowed upon him by Voldemort was a clear sign that Harry was indeed the one destined to fulfill the prophecy.
All Dumbledore had to do now was draw Voldemort out and manipulate him into attacking Harry again with the Killing Curse, and it would all be over - the wizard world would continue to live on in the peace and stability which the Grand Bargain provided.
And once that task was completed, Harry’s status as a slave would keep his power in check - without a wand and the knowledge to use it, Harry would never be able to threaten that peace and stability...
~o0o~
The rest of the weekend looked like it would drag on and on. Without any classes in session, there seemed to be no reason for anyone to release Harriet and Hermione from their cage. They grew thirstier and thirstier as Saturday wore on, neither of them keen to call upon a house-elf to provide them with a “drink.”
Dinner was just about to begin and the Great Hall was full. But Hagrid remained up at the staff table, and another figure was approaching them instead. Harriet narrowed her eyes at the headmaster as he drew nearer to the cage, his purple and gold robes flowing across the floor. Dumbledore beamed down at the naked, shackled pair of young witches.
“Good evening Harry, Miss Granger,” he began in the most grandfatherly voice he could muster. “Now you might be wondering why Hagrid is not here to direct you both to your feeding stations. Well, I thought it would be a pleasant surprise to inform you myself that Saturday night is a special night for the Receptacles at Hogwarts. ... The house-elves will be feeding you themselves!”
Harriet’s face slackened in shock as she peered back at the headmaster, his meaning all too clear. It was highly doubtful that he meant the house-elves would be bringing them delicious food from the kitchens.
“Bastard!” she growled. “Even the Dursleys fed me better than this.”
“Ah, speaking of which, no doubt your uncle and cousin will continue this nutrition regimen during the summer,” said Dumbledore cheerfully. “In any case, the house-elves called to my attention that neither of you have had a drop to drink all day.”
Dumbledore’s piercing blue gaze caught Hermione’s eyes. “Is that true, Miss Granger?”
Hermione shrunk back, feeling creeped out.
“Y...yes, sir,” she stammered, knowing it would do no good to lie. “Are...are you g...going to make us drink house-elf pee?”
“I should think not,” the headmaster replied sternly. “You see, you have both been wasting precious resources. Why do think it is that Hagrid has left your pail un-emptied?” Dumbledore gestured towards the tin bucket. “Recycling is taken very seriously in the wizard world - nothing goes to waste.”
“B...but that’s disgusting,” Hermione moaned. “It... it’s even worse than making us drink fresh urine. It’ll make us really ill.”
“Not as long as you wear those collars,” Dumbledore retorted, the twinkle returning to his eye. “One of the most delightful features of the enchanted collars is that they prevent the Receptacles from succumbing to all viral, bacterial, and fungal illnesses. All in aid of preventing any possible transmission of infection from your food sources of course.”
“Of... of course!” Hermione groaned - it only made sense given the circumstances.
“Still, you can’t really expect us to...” Harriet moaned, struggling to contain her outrage.
“Oh, but I do,” said the headmaster, his voice growing chillier again. “You really have no choice in the matter.” Then Dumbledore whirled around and sauntered back to the staff table without another word.
And there really was no choice in the matter. The Compulsion Charm on the collar was already compelling Harriet to crawl on her knees over to the tin pail. Harriet resisted with all her might, but it was not enough to prevent her face from lowering towards the bucket, her long black hair spilling down inside, the ends already dipping into the cold, smelly piss.
Harriet squeezed her eyes shut and wrinkled her nose as it drew closer and closer to the fetid amber fluid. At the last moment, when the tip of her nose touched the surface, Harriet took a deep breath - and not a moment too soon. Harriet struggled desperately as her face was forced into the splashing pee, gulping down mouthful after after mouthful as it swirled all around her.
It felt as if someone were holding her under, and just as soon as she felt like she might drown, her head was suddenly yanked out of the bucket by the neck. Harriet sputtered, gasping for air, her lungs burning as urine streamed from her face and hair.
It took her a few moments to recover as she panted, rage bubbling in the pit of her stomach with the pee as she listened to the whoops of delight, which were mostly coming from the Slytherin table. Shakily Harriet made her way back the rear of the cage and slumped against the bars, unable to look Hermione in her wide, horrified eyes.
“It’s probably better if you don’t resist,” Harriet muttered. “I think I just made it worse for myself. And if you can, try to manoeuvre your head so that your hair mostly falls outside the bucket.”
Hermione nodded and waddled on her knees as quickly as she could to the bucket, hoping her collar wouldn’t force her as violently as Harriet’s had. She followed Harriet’s instructions to the best of her ability, which was difficult without having her hands free for support. But Hermione did manage to angle her head so that most of her bushy hair tumbled over to one side.
Then Hermione carefully lowered her face, sliding it down the side of the tin pail as her hair spilled over the other side of the rim. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, her face barely half an inch from the surface, Hermione opened her mouth; her tongue darted out and she began lapping the cold pee as if she were a kitten lapping up cream.
Trembling, Hermione swallowed tongueful after tongueful until she decided she’d had enough. Tentatively she lifted her head, hoping her collar would think that she’d had enough rather than conclude that she was resisting. Hermione breathed a huge sigh of relief, just a dribble of pee trickling from her lips, when she was fully upright.
Hermione scrabbled mournfully back to her spot at the rear of the cage, trying not to cry when she looked at Harriet, who looked like a drowned rat.
“I... I’m so sorry, Harriet,” she mumbled. “Th...thank you for telling me what to do.”
“Don’t thank me just yet,” Harriet sighed, a muscle in her jaw twitching. “That was just the first course...”
Harriet was interrupted by the sound of two loud pops; Midge and another grinning house-elf had arrived.
“Greetings Harry Potter and missy Granger,” squeaked Midge. “This is being my friend Bobo - we is serving you dinner now. After we is done, many more house-elves will be serving you until dinner-time is over.”
“Just shut up and get it over with,” Harriet snapped. “This isn’t fun for us, and if Dumbledore says it is, tell him I said he can blow it out his arse!”
Midge looked shocked, his bat-like ears quivering balefully as tears brimmed in his bulbous eyes.
“You... you is not liking to be fed by house-elves?” the house elf whimpered. “B...but you is thanking Midge last night for the drink...”
“Only because Dumbledore made me,” Harriet snarled, unable to comprehend the utter naivety of the house-elf. “Haven’t any other slaves told you to bugger off before?”
“Oh, we house-elves is slaves - we is wearing tea-towels - you is receptacles - you is wearing nothing,” said Midge, as if explaining something to a small child. “But we is good slaves - when receptacles is being mean to us, we is getting upset, but we is not letting that stop us from doing our jobs.”
“What’s wrong with you lot?” Harriet fumed. “You actually bloody like being slaves?”
“Harriet, I don’t think the house-elves think the way we do,” said Hermione. “They’ve obviously been brainwashed by hundreds of years of enslavement. It’s no wonder that the muggleborn caste and slavery system seems to have been so readily accepted in modern wizarding culture.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Harriet grumbled. “Doesn’t mean I have to be nice to them though.”
“Doesn’t it?” Hermione raised her eyebrows pointedly.
“Oh!” said Harriet, suddenly catching Hermione’s meaning, “You really think we could...?”
“...get some house-elves on our side?” said Hermione. “Maybe! It can’t hurt to try.”
“Alright then,” Harriet sighed; then she peered apologetically at Midge. “Okay Midge, I’m sorry for being mean to you. Go ahead and feed us - just... no rough stuff, alright?”
“Midge is accepting Harry Potter’s apology,” Midge beamed. “Harry Potter is being very kind. Midge promises that house-elves will be feeding Harry Potter and Hermione Granger gently.”
“Thank you Midge,” said Hermione, forcing her face into what she hoped looked like a smile.
“Yeah, thanks Midge,” said Harriet in a strangled sort of voice, as if it were extremely painful to talk.
With that out of the way, the two house-elves took to their tasks. Midge hopped onto Hermione’s breasts, squashing her nipples with his little feet, and held onto her bushy hair as gently as possible, flipping up his tea-towel to reveal his sizable knobbly grey penis; it was several inches longer than the previous night, being in full erection.
Hermione opened her dainty little mouth hoping that Midge would keep his promise. Midge gingerly slid the knob-end of his cock between her lips. It felt a bit weird on her tongue, the texture and flavour being quite distinct from the human penises she’d had in her mouth over the previous day and a half.
It took Hermione a moment to register how disturbing it was that she had already, in such a short time, become acclimated enough to penises in her mouth that she was differentiating between them. She began to suck the cock, and true to his word, as he thrust a bit deeper Midge restrained himself from going past her tonsils, maintaining a steady pace. It was still vile as far as Hermione was concerned, but somewhat more tolerable than most of her previous encounters.
Harriet was similarly engaged, sucking on Bobo’s ten inch cock while the house-elf gently fucked her face, never going more than a few inches into her throat. Harriet was still pretty fed up with all of the dick-sucking, but at least Bobo had cleaned her up with a magical wave of his hand and she no longer stank of stale pee.

But even the gentle oral-rapes grew tiresome after Harriet and Hermione had endured the cum-loads of a dozen or so house-elves squirting into their mouths and down their throats. It didn’t help that their breasts and nipples were becoming red and sore from the numerous little feet squashing them.
In the end, by the time dinner had concluded, after sucking off twenty house-elves apiece Harriet and Hermione felt no less exhausted than they otherwise would have. It was too much to pretend that they weren’t miserable by that point, and they sat there looking glum, dribbles of semen trickling from their lips as the final two house-elves vanished.
Dumbledore was the last one out of the Great Hall as he had been the previous night. Harriet scowled at him as he smugly winked at her and turned out the candles before shutting the doors behind him.
At last it was quiet in the Great Hall, and they could both lie down almost properly. It was still a right pain in the arse with their legs still parted by three foot spreaders, and hands still shackled behind their heads, but it was nonetheless a great relief to be able to stretch out on their backs and to rest their heads in their hands.
The cage was too narrow for them to lay down side by side however, and at first there was some debate, but Harriet put an end to it by insisting that she would lie on the floor and that Hermione should lie on top of her.
It had been another mostly horrible day, but despite everything, Harriet began to feel at peace. There were only a few clouds above in the Enchanted Ceiling and the stars twinkled like little diamonds against the black curtain of night.
As Harriet lay on her back with Hermione’s bum resting on her upper thighs and Hermione’s bushy head resting on her chest, the warmth of Hermione’s skin against her own and the gentle sound of her breathing made Harriet’s insides feel all squirmy, but in a nice way. Harriet wanted her arms free so she could wrap them around Hermione and hold her tightly, but she could live with this; Harriet felt a soaring sensation as tranquility settled over her.
Hermione must have felt it too, because she whispered something totally unexpected after they had lain there in silence for a while.
“I... I know this probably sounds completely mad,” Hermione murmured, her voice quavering as if she’d been crying, “And I’m really sorry if this seems a bit forward - after all, I barely even know you - and we’re both so young - and it hardly seems appropriate given our awful circumstances - But I... I think I love you Harriet...”
Harriet drew a sharp intake of breath. At first, she couldn’t think how to respond and her own eyes brimmed with tears. Her heart lurched; nobody had ever told her they loved her before that she could recall - certainly not the Dursleys.
Harriet reckoned that when it came right down to it, she and Hermione didn’t have anyone else but each other anyway, but even if that weren’t the case, she had the strangest feeling that she and Hermione were meant to be together one way or another, whether as really good friends or something more. Harriet wasn’t really certain of much right now - all she was really certain of was that she didn’t want anything bad to happen to Hermione.
Hermione began trembling when Harriet didn’t respond right away, snapping Harriet right out of her stunned reverie.
“Er... well,” Harriet began, a wry little smile creeping to her lips, “if it makes you feel any better, I think I love you too, Hermione!”
Harriet was pleased to hear Hermione’s teary giggle and feel her relaxing again...
~o0o~
Hermione blinked her bleary eyes, sad to see the cold light of dawn above her in the Enchanted Ceiling. She wished it would stay night forever, just her and Harriet together, dreaming of a better world. Sighing, Hermione slid herself off Harriet’s torso, and clambered over to the tin bucket to empty her bladder well before anyone arrived for breakfast.
Harriet stirred, feeling like she was missing a part of herself. As the slumber faded from her brain, Harriet realised that Hermione was no longer lying atop her and that it was morning. She heard the splashing, tinkling sound and knew that Hermione was taking care of business.
“Morning Harriet,” said Hermione when she had finished and was fumbling her way back.
“Hi Hermione.” Harriet bent her knees to draw her legs out of Hermione’s way and tried to shift around so that she could sit up. There was a sharp pain in her lower abdomen as she moved; she let out a groan and slumped, flattening her back against the floor again.
“Harriet, what’s wrong?” Hermione squeaked with alarm.
“I... I’m not sure...” Harriet let out another moan and this time her lower belly flinched and her distended sphincter contracted painfully around the intruder in her rectum. “It hurts a bit - down there.” Harriet lifted her head and jerked it a bit, peering down between her legs.
Hermione actually had a good view of that region of Harriet from where she was currently kneeling. She gasped, her eyes widening.
“What?” asked Harriet, sounding worried.
“It’s those awful Burrowing Carrots - they’re growing,” said Hermione, biting her lip and giving Harriet a sympathetic look. “Professor Sprout said they’d be growing about seven inches longer, and a few inches wider for about a week - and that was early Friday afternoon - almost two days now. So they’re probably almost two inches longer already, and they do look almost an inch wider.”
Harriet let out another long groan, not of pain but of resignation. No wonder her vagina and bunghole practically felt like they were splitting. She took a deep breath and tried to remind herself that the magic would protect her, make her stretchier - but it didn’t make her feel much better in the meantime.
“Bloody Hell!” she swore. “This is bollocks! How the hell am I supposed to get around like this.”
“Just lie there for a bit Harriet. Don’t even try...”
“But I really have to pee!” Harriet muttered crossly.
Hermione’s brow furrowed as she tried to think what to do. She rather expected that Harriet might get in trouble if she peed all over the floor. She sighed when a sudden thought popped into her head. It was kind of gross, but no grosser than anything else they had done and there really weren’t any other options.
Hermione worked her way closer to Harriet, shuffling on her knees between Harriet’s legs. Harriet peered at her questioningly.
“I’ve got an idea Harriet,” said Hermione, her face reddening. “I... I’m going to put my mouth, er... over your privates, and then you can pee.”
“Wait, what?”

“Don’t make me say it again, please,” Hermione moaned. “It’s the only thing I can think of, unless you can hold it for a bit until you feel a bit better. I expect your body will adjust to the, er... protrusions in short order.”

Harriet groaned with embarrassment. “Are... are you sure Hermione - that you can manage it I mean?”
“Well, it can hardly be worse than drinking pee out of a bucket, or Fred Weasley’s pee, can it?”
“I suppose not,” Harriet sighed. “Alright then, let’s, er... give this a go then.”
“Okay! Here goes.”
Hermione leaned forward; she angled her head as her mouth drew closer to Harriet’s hairless mound, taking into account the Burrowing Carrot’s protuberance widely stretching Harriet’s labia. She could clearly make out Harriet’s clitoris, poking out of its hiding place, and not far below that, in the wetly glistening - and rather distended - pink inner fold, Harriet’s urethra.
Harriet’s breathing grew ragged when she felt Hermione’s hot breath against the outer region of her cunny. Harriet bit her lip, ashamed to feel a tingling rush of pleasure when Hermione’s humid lips clamped over the top bit of her vulva. It took her a few moments, but Harriet didn’t want Hermione to suffer any more than she had to, and she willed herself to relax.
She felt the pee starting to flow, and Hermione sucking it into her mouth and swallowing it, gulping it down as if she were thirsty. Harriet felt filthy for doing this to Hermione, but why did it have to feel so good? The little fleshy nubbin thingy, Harriet wasn’t sure what it was called, throbbed with every suck and every wriggle of Hermione’s tongue.
Harriet’s inner thighs involuntarily squirmed, and she felt her back arching; as the last bit of pee squirted into Hermione’s mouth, Harriet felt her whole body shudder as a wave of euphoria crashed over her. She let out a little squeal and was still quivering when Hermione’s voice cut through her blissful daze.
“Are you alright, Harriet? You’re not hurt are you?” Hermione asked worriedly, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.
“N...no,” said Harriet, shaking her head and blushing, too embarrassed to say that she’d liked it.
“Then what...?” Hermione looked puzzled for a moment and then her mouth made a little “o” and her eyes widened.
“Did you have an orgasm?” she asked.
“What?” Harriet was bewildered. “What’s an orgasm?”
“It’s what happens when people have sex,” Hermione explained bluntly. “It’s supposed to be a really good feeling and boys and girls both have them. That’s, er... that’s what’s been happening to the boys when their penises squirt sperm into... er... our mouths.”
“Oh! Yeah... I knew it obviously felt good to them, I mean, it always felt good to me whenever I touched my willy when I was still a guy... I just didn’t know what it was called,” said Harriet blushing even more. “I’m sorry Hermione. I didn’t mean for it to feel good...”
“Don’t be silly Harriet. You couldn’t help that it felt good,” said Hermione, looking oddly pleased. “I... I’m glad I made you feel good. You’ve been making me feel good loads.”
“I have?”
“Yes!” Hermione nodded earnestly. “That’s, er... one of the reasons I already love you I think. You make me feel good despite all the horrible things which have been happening to us. It feels nice when you hold me - well, when we’re touching I mean - like last night.”
“Yeah,” said Harriet, feeling relieved that she hadn’t put Hermione off her. “Yeah, okay! I feel the same way too. So, that feeling, it really is love then?”
“Yes - it’s sort of like how my parents make me feel, but different too...” Hermione blushed, and this time Harriet definitely caught her meaning.
“I get it,” Harriet murmured. “I didn’t really quite get it last night - I never really knew how love was supposed to feel - I just knew I felt good being with you...”
AN:
@ Skepna: Illogical indeed - I expect this chapter will bring you some more clarity... ;-)
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Mudbloods at Hogwarts