Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Mudbloods at Hogwarts	By : Gandalfs-Beard Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 288818 -:- Recommendations : 10 -:- Currently Reading : 16
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
- 7
- 8
- 9
Birthdays and Surprises

Harriet woke with a start and nearly bolted upright when Hermione screamed, trembling and crying atop her.
“It’s alright, Hermione,” Harriet said gently as Hermione sobbed, wishing she could hug Hermione. “He’s not here... Snape’s not here... You’re having a nightmare...”
“It... it was horrible,” Hermione wept. “It was happening all over again.”
“D’you want to turn over and face me?” Harriet suggested. “I dunno if it’ll help. But it’s the best I can think of since I can’t really cuddle you properly.”
“Maybe...” Hermione sniffled as the nightmare began to fade. “I suppose it’s worth a try.”
After a bit of clumsy manoeuvring, Hermione managed to turn over and nestle her bushy head on Harriet’s shoulder, feeling the younger girl’s warm body pressed against her front. She almost thought she could feel Harriet’s heart beating under her breast. It wasn’t any more uncomfortable than lying her back on top of Harriet really, and it almost felt like a hug even though neither of them could move their arms properly with their hands cuffed behind their heads.
Hermione decided that from now on this was a much nicer way to sleep when they weren’t watching the stars.
Harriet lay awake for a while, feeling Hermione relaxing and her warm breath against her skin. When she felt Hermione’s gentle breathing slow, she knew Hermione had managed to fall asleep again...
~o0o~
Hermione could hardly believe it had only been two weeks since she had been a relatively normal girl with a life before Hogwarts. So many awful things had happened to her over the past week that it felt like months already. The one bright spot was Harriet - and the peacetime they shared at night. And they had at least managed to make two friends.
But Hermione couldn’t help feeling more and more miserable as her twelfth birthday drew nearer, only days away now.
She and Harriet managed to make it through the weekend without any major incidents, just the usual daily humiliations and degradations which she was horrified to discover were almost beginning to feel routine: being caged like animals in zoo, naked and exposed, being groped by an endless stream of students, sucking penises twice a day, forced to defecate in front of spectators, drinking from a bucket of their own pee - now with the added dubious bonus that the boys had been given the go ahead to use their bucket as a urinal (though thankfully, except for some Slytherins - especially Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle - most of the boys were less inclined to whip it out of their pants so openly)...
She was grateful for the distraction that Parvati and Lavender provided after breakfast on Saturday and Sunday. Sitting cross-legged next to the cage, the two Gryffindors dug into their bags for the spare charms books which they had found on a shelf in the back of Flitwick’s classroom, and they had begun scouring the books looking for any the most useful spells which might aid in an escape.
“...and obviously you don’t have your first year books anymore,” Parvati was saying, “so I thought we should start looking for the ones Flitwick hasn’t started teaching yet.
“Well, fortunately, I read through the Standard Book of Spells: Grade One before I came to Hogwarts and memorised them,” said Hermione. “And I’m thinking maybe the fire-making spell would be good...”
“How about the Severing Charm?” suggested Harriet. “Diffindo, isn’t it? That’s probably a good one too.”
Hermione raised her eyebrows at Harriet in surprise.
“Hey, just because I couldn’t remember everything in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, and the First Year Potions book doesn’t mean I didn’t read them,” said Harriet defensively. “I had a whole month to read all of my school books before term started too, and I remember a lot of the jinxes from Defence Against the Dark Arts and some of the spells from Charms.”
“Oh!” said Hermione excitedly, “I didn’t know that you’d read all of your books before term started too, Harriet - I sort of expected that you might have - though mostly because of your glasses - they make you look a bit bookish,” she admitted, feeling a bit ashamed of herself. “I know I shouldn’t really judge people based on such silly things, but I’d hoped... and then the first week, you and Ron seemed - I don’t know - a bit lazy... but I still sort of held out some hope that you might want to study with me...”
“It’s alright, Hermione,” Harriet smiled ruefully. “I really am usually the sort that likes to read and get my homework done - I always did in primary school. It’s just, er... I did sort of slack off when I started hanging out with Ron. He was the first and only friend I’d ever had - before he turned out to be a disgusting prat - and he wasn’t really into homework and stuff. And, er, well... I’d never had anyone I could just play games and have fun with before I met Ron on the train, so I...”
“Really? That’s so sad,” said Parvati earnestly, interrupting Harriet. “No wonder you liked Ron at first. He’s a bit thick and rude - but he’s kind of funny too... I mean, when he’s being normal that is - not the way he treats you two and some of the other muggleborns...”
“I thought it was mostly Slytherins who were like that before I started Hogwarts,” Lavender said, looking a bit embarrassed. “I didn’t really know quite how bad it was in the wizard world nowadays because my mum and dad only let me play with friends like Parvati, who were raised to believe that everyone was equal too.
“My mum and dad never really talked about the things like that in front of me otherwise. But sometimes I’d overhear them talking about how it was before, er... you killed You-Know-Who when they thought I wasn’t listening, and they’d go on about how all the Death Eaters were Slytherins and how they were the ones who really hated muggleborns.”
“So, that really is when everything changed then,” Hermione mused aloud. “Harriet and I were wondering about that, we just weren’t sure why it had all changed after she killed Voldemort.”
“My parents said it had something to do with a ‘Grand Bargain’ - supposedly the Ministry made a deal to stop the fighting after You-Know-Who was killed,” said Parvati. “Draco Malfoy’s dad and Professor Dumbledore negotiated a peace agreement, and now Mr Malfoy is the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.”
“I wish I knew how I killed Voldemort,” Harriet muttered, now that the subject of the defunct Dark Lord had come up. “All Hagrid told me was that something about me finished him off. If I knew how I’d done it, maybe I could use that to get us out of here.”
“Accidental magic,” said Hermione. “That’s what most of the history books seem to think anyway. There was nothing left of Voldemort after you blasted him - apparently you blew up half the roof of your house too when you destroyed him. You must have really powerful magic to be able to do that as an infant, and to survive a killing curse - nobody’s ever done that before...”
“Bollocks! If it was just accidental, I can’t really use it to blast our way out of here now,” Harriet grumbled.
“Maybe you could if something triggered another accidental outburst,” said Parvati, her eyes widening. “You were probably horribly upset when, er... you know... your mum and dad... If you could just - I don’t know - maybe try to feel that way again...”
“I don’t really remember though,” said Harriet quietly. “All I can remember when I try to think about it is green light...”
“That must have been the Killing Curse,” said Lavender in a hushed tone. “It’s supposed to be green...”
“Oh!” The troubled look on Harriet’s face was almost painful to see.
“Anyway, Parvati might be onto something,” said Hermione, trying get the discussion going along a more hopeful track again. “Not that we’d have to trigger a bout of accidental magic, but a lot of the power of certain magic spells comes from emotions. And if your emotions are really that powerful, we just need to be able to help you channel the ones you’ve got right now through the spells.”
“There are stunning spells in the fifth year charms textbook,” said Lavender eagerly. “That would be a good one to learn. You could probably knock loads of people out with that...”
“And there’s blasting spells like Bombarda and Confringo in the sixth and seventh year books...” said Parvati.
“Now that sounds more like it,” said Harriet, her features brightening again...
The foursome kept at it for another hour or so, leafing through Charms and Defence textbooks picking out spells, until a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws entered the Great Hall apparently for a meeting of the Gobstones Club. Lavender and Parvati hurriedly stuffed the books back into their bookbags, and fortunately nobody had really been paying attention to them.
The secret “study session” continued again on Sunday morning, Hermione and Harriet both committing as many incantations and wand movements to memory as they could. They managed to get nearly two hours in that time before a few students wandered into the Hall.

But when Lavender and Parvati weren’t around to help them study, Hermione found herself sinking deeper into depression. She tried to keep up appearances for Harriet’s sake, but it was clear that she was beginning to notice. By Monday evening, after dinner was over and the candles were out, Hermione was cuddled up atop Harriet, front to front, when Harriet kissed her bushy head.
“What’s the matter Hermione?” she murmured. “...Other than the usual rubbish I mean. Is it Snape?”
Hermione trembled slightly, sighing.
“I... No, it’s not Snape - not really - I mean, yes, as dreadful as things have been for us, eventually, I think - I hope - that I’ll eventually get over most of it, and I can sort of muddle through in the meantime. But what Snape did to me on Friday, it’s harder to get that out of my head. ... but that... that’s not what’s bothering me the most...”
Hermione trailed off, her voice rising in pitch. She found it hard to breathe, though her chest was heaving rapidly, and her tears dripped onto Harriet’s breast. Harriet’s chain clinked as she brought her elbows down as far as she could manage to sort of hold Hermione’s head with, in a feeble imitation of a hug, and kissed Hermione’s tawny tresses several more times.
Hermione’s breathing gradually slowed at Harriet’s touch and she found she could speak again, albeit shakily.

“It...it’s my birthday on Thursday - my twelfth birthday... m-m-my first birthday without Mum and Dad...” Hermione let out another sob. “And it hurts so much... it feels real now... not like a bad dream that I keep thinking I’ll wake up from.”
Harriet grit her teeth, feeling ill, her gut bubbling with a toxic mix of rage and grief, wishing she could just channel that into a burst of “accidental magic” right then and there. But she had to be strong for Hermione’s sake.
“When we get out of here Hermione, we’ll find a way to set things straight. There has to be a way to bring your parent’s memories back.”
“You... you really think so?” Hermione sniffled.
“Yeah, I do! ... I really do!” Harriet planted another kiss on the top of Hermione’s head - and another - and another, while Hermione quietly wept.
Harriet kept it up until Hermione seemed to have settled down, her breasts wet with Hermione’s tears. That’s when she realised that Hermione had cried herself to sleep.
The next few days, Harriet stole as many moments as possible between classes to hug Hermione, and looked for places in the castle to hide at lunchtime, as far from the Great Hall as possible. It was almost serendipity that Harriet thought to try the front doors on Thursday. Much to her surprise when she tested the handle, the doors opened, and, one foot stepping tentatively through the entrance, Harriet was even more surprised to find that their collars weren’t compelling them to remain in the castle.
Her heart racing a mile a minute, Harriet slipped through the doors with her equally stunned Hermione, and they both padded barefoot across the grass.
Finding a thicket of bushes with a nice patch of lawn behind it, they made themselves comfortable, lying on the grass as they watched a few puffy white cottonball clouds scudding across the bright blue sky, basking in the warmth of the relatively unhindered sun.
A flock of starlings flew overhead, and if it weren’t for the fact that they were both starkers, Harriet and Hermione could almost pretend that they were just normal students enjoying the good weather while it lasted.
They shared a few tender kisses and cuddles at first, and before she knew it, Harriet found herself the recipient of a steamy, impassioned kiss that curled her toes. She felt a wetness on her thigh as Hermione ground her heated slit against it.
When Hermione’s lips released Harriet’s, Harriet trailed her kisses down to Hermione’s breasts and gave Hermione’s sensitive pink peaks a gentle nibble with her teeth and flicked them with her tongue. Then Harriet’s lips encircled a nipple and began to suck in earnest, while grinding her own vulva against Hermione’s thigh as their legs entwined.
Hermione’s entrance was sopping now; she grasped Harriet’s hips with both hands and let out a little moan as Harriet continued to apply her lips and tongue to her nipples.
The pair writhed in unison, rolling in the grass, the sounds of their amorous affections drawing the attention of a few squirrels in the nearby oaks. They both squealed when the storm of ecstasy overtook them, and the thrushes in the bushes surrounding them took flight.
Gasping and panting, in a blissful daze, they slumped against each other. They lay like that for a while, holding each other, until Hermione gave Harriet a peck on the lips.
“Thanks for that,” she murmured. “I would have never thought to try the door - I didn’t think the collars would let us out of the castle except for a class. That was the nicest birthday present you could have given me.”
“I’d give you the world if I could,” said Harriet, tenderly brushing Hermione’s tawny locks with her fingers and returning the little kiss. “I wish we could stay here. If I could get these stupid collars off, I’d just run away with you right now.”
“Maybe we should go back now before anyone misses us,” said Hermione. “...before anyone has a chance to take this away from us...”
~o0o~
It was with more than a little trepidation that Harriet and Hermione made their way to Potions on Friday following breakfast. They hurried through the dungeon passages as fast as their bare feet could carry them across the cold stone floors without actually breaking into a run. Just as they passed Ron and Seamus, Ron grabbed at Harriet’s boob to cop a quick feel and Seamus squeezed Hermione’s bum.
“You’d better hurry up,” Seamus sniggered. “Ye don’ wanna be late again.”
“No... slow down,” said Ron, grinning, “You do want to be late. ... Maybe Snape will give us a crack at you two this week.”
“Fair point mate,” Seamus chortled.
“No way, Weaselby,” Malfoy drawled. “If anyone is going to get a crack at their pussies, it’s going to be me and Crabbe and Goyle.”
“How ‘bout we flip for it?” said Seamus. “I’ve got a sickle in me pocket...”
“You’re on bogtrotter,” sneered Malfoy, “But we’ll use my coin instead - it’s a galleon. Heads, it’s Slytherins first and Gryffindors get sloppy seconds...”
Hermione shot them all a look of disgust and dragged Harriet away before Harriet could punch any of them.
Professor Snape looked up from his desk when the throng of students entered his classroom. His sneer when he spotted Harriet and Hermione in their midst bore a strong hint of disappointment. Harriet wasn’t sure why he would be disappointed really; she was sure Snape would find any little excuse to make life miserable for them, even if he had to make it up.
Harriet suddenly wondered if Snape had to come up with reasons to justify being extra harsh with them to Dumbledore. The headmaster seemed to have set some limits on the amount of physical abuse to be heaped upon her and Hermione; apparently Dumbledore didn’t want them to be badly damaged.
Either way, Harriet reckoned they ought to make Snape work for it if that was the case; she and Hermione quickly assumed their positions in front of the class, hands behind their heads and legs widely spread.
As he had the previous week, Snape strolled out from behind his desk, peering down his hooked nose at them as if looking for any tiny imperfection. And as he had before, he began groping them roughly, clearly hoping for an outburst or an overt expression of disrespect... Fortunately(?), Snape seemed more amused than anything by the death-glares Harriet kept shooting at him while he aggressively probed her vulva, jammed three digits inside her narrow, wet passage, and yanked her swollen nubbin while he finger-fucked her for a few minutes.
“Well, Potter, Granger,” Snape began with a sneer after he had finished molesting Hermione too and wiped his sticky fingers on her bushy hair, “I have a special treat for you today...”
“Sir... Professor Snape, sir,” a tentative voice called out from the doorway, interrupting him.
“What do you want, Pattinson?” Snape snapped. “Can’t you see I’m busy? ... And shouldn’t you be in class?”
“Erm..” Pattinson, a brown haired Ravenclaw who looked like he might be in third or fourth year, gulped nervously, “It... it’s Professor Kettleburn sir, he wants to borrow the Receptacles for his lessons today. He’s got a permission slip from Professor Dumbledore.”
“Let me see that,” Snape barked, snatching the slip of parchment from Pattinson’s hand. “Hmmph... Seems to be all in order.”
Snape turned and narrowed his eyes at Harriet and Hermione.
“It seems you have both been granted a reprieve this week. We’ll just have to make up for it next week then, I suppose!” he concluded with a nasty looking smirk which boded ill for the following Friday.
Harriet and Hermione warily followed Pattinson out of the dungeon, not sure whether to be pleased that they were leaving a dreadful known quantity for a possibly even worse unknown. Though, considering that the known was Snape, the unknown seemed more agreeable. Pattinson seemed vaguely familiar to Harriet, but then she chalked it up to the fact that the exceedingly pale boy looked like he could almost be Cedric Diggory’s brother.
Pattinson was trying not to look like he was ogling Harriet and Hermione, and failing miserably, as he kept stopping to let them pass even though he was supposed to be leading them to wherever they were supposed to be. The professor’s name was unfamiliar to Harriet, and she thought she’d seen all the professors by now.
“Who’s Professor Kettleburn?” Harriet quietly asked Hermione.
“He’s the one with a beard and a big nose...”
“Well that narrows it down.”
“...and he’s missing a hand and a leg,” Hermione continued without missing a beat, rolling her eyes. “He’s the Care of Magical Creatures professor.”
“Oh!” Harriet turned pink and had the decency to look chastened for her sarcasm. “Sorry.”
“It’s alright Harriet,” said Hermione, “I know you’re just worried about whatever horrid thing Professor Kettleburn probably has planned for us.”
Pattinson led them both outside, and Harriet was puzzled when it seemed like they were headed for Hagrid’s hut. But then Pattinson veered off to the right, into the woods on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest.
“Ar, there they be,” said the grizzled Professor who looked more like a pirate than someone who looked after magical creatures - which probably had something to do with his peg-leg, his hook-hand, and his eyepatch . “Over here lassies - time’s a-waistin’ ... An’ there’s a good lad, Pattinson. Hope Perfessor Snape didn’a give you any trouble.”
“Er... not too much, anyway, sir.”
“Very good! This way... this way...”
Professor Kettleburn led them a bit further into a clearing where a dozen third year Ravenclaws and seven third year Hufflepuffs were dawdling and looking bored, leaning against trees or sitting in the piles of fallen leaves. They immediately lost their disinterest when they spotted the two naked girls entering the glade with the Professor and Pattinson.
“Gather round... gather round,” Kettleburn beckoned. “Time t’get underway.” Professor Kettleburn waved his wand and a gate opened at the far end of a paddock.
A collective gasp went up from the gathered students. Harriet and Hermione’s jaws dropped, a feeling of dread settling in the pit of their stomachs.
“Now, who can tell me what these here critters are?” Kettleburn’s one eye swiveled from one student to the next.
Harriet gently touched Hermione’s arm, which looked as if it were about to rocket up into the air.
“Sorry! Force of habit,” Hermione whispered, blushing.
“Er... That’s a Troll, innit?” said a Hufflepuff.
“Not bad... not bad, Gibson! But I’m lookin’ fer specifics...”
“Those are Forest Trolls, they are,” said a smug looking Ravenclaw who looked like he’d been waiting for the opportunity to show someone up. “They look a bit titchy though, which is probably why Gibson was thrown off.”
“Heh! You’re right about one thing, Perkins,” Kettleburn chortled. “Forest Trolls they are indeed. But be careful who yer callin’ titchy. These young uns won’t take kindly to insults. They on’y jus’ reached puberty - ‘bout the same as most first and second years...”
Harriet thought the beasts looked a bit familiar. Despite their height - nearly six feet tall - pale green complexions, odd tufts of coarse, straggly hair, and two upside down fangs jutting up from their lower jaws, they looked remarkably like Crabbe and Goyle, and seemed to be equal parts bulging muscle and flab.
They were wearing what appeared to be animal pelt tunics slung over one shoulder, stretching across their over-large bellies and dangling down to their knees, kept snugly in place by leather belts strung through brass rings.
“...This lot’ll be ‘bout twelve foot tall, fully grown,” Kettleburn went on. “Anyhow, this lesson’s an important one, and should be a warnin’ to any o’ you lassies who’re thinking about takin’ a little walk through the Forbidden Forest this time of year...”
“Of course it is!” Harriet muttered bitterly under her breath, scowling as the reason for her and Hermione’s presence became more and more apparent.
Hermione nodded and let out a little whimper in response.
“...Ye see,” the Professor continued, “Now’s mating season for Forest Trolls - lasts a good two months. An’ the last thing any lass wants is to be caught in the forest by a full-grown Forest Troll. Today’s lesson will show you exactly why - but I reckoned it’d be a bit safer for the Receptacles with the adolescents...”
“Do we really have to watch this?” asked one of the Ravenclaw girls angrily.

“That’s revolting,” hissed another Ravenclaw girl.
The rest of the Ravenclaw girls looked like they might be sick, and most of the Hufflepuff girls all looked rather green around the gills as well - though there was one who looked very intrigued and already had a hand pressed against the front of her skirt.
Of course nearly all the boys began looking very eager.
“Ye’ll all pay close attention, if ye wanna pass this class,” Professor Kettleburn growled at the young witches. “It’s a requirement for every student. ... For yer own safety, see?”
“Anyway, that’s it for the lecture,” said Kettleburn, returning to his more jovial tone of voice. “No point jawin’ about this part any more when a demonstration can teach ye better than any words.”
He pointed at Harriet and Hermione. “Right - you two, over here, now!”
Sighing resignedly, Harriet and Hermione shuffled across the forest floor to the paddock before their collars could drag them there. Kettleburn led them through a gate towards two odd looking wooden benches or low tables, with poles rising above surface at one end and what appeared to be a pillory at the other end with a round hole in the middle and two smaller holes, one on each side of the bigger.
A cold shiver ran up Harriet’s spine and Hermione trembled when they drew closer and saw shackles on the legs of the bench at the far end, and also on the poles which projected above.
“Up on the tables now lassies...” said the bewhiskered professor. “You there - yes you, the bushy haired one - on your backside. Right... now you - Potter ain’ it? ... Yeah - lay on yer front.”
Harriet and Hermione were both rather reticent to follow orders, and struggled against the compulsion charms on their collars, even though they both knew it wouldn’t make any difference. Hermione was eventually flung backwards onto the bench with a thump and Harriet was propelled forward and slammed down forcefully.

“Blimey!” Harriet squealed when the pillory was opened and then shut again, clasping her neck and wrists in place, “What’s with the bloody torture stuff?”
“Ar, this ain’ torture paraphernalia,” Professor Kettleburn chuckled. “This ‘ere is for yer own safety - I promise. Can’t have you jostlin’ around too much - be likely ter snap your necks. This’ll keep you nice an’ still so’s the Trolls can have atcha without doin’ you any damage - well, not much anyway. Ye might get a few bruises an’ scrapes - nothin’ Pomfrey can’t fix later.”
The Care of Magical Creatures professor shuffled off to the other end of the bench; Harriet grit her teeth as he spread her legs widely and shackled her ankles to the legs. She let out a little hiss when he briefly groped her pussy and shoved his fingers inside her.
Then she felt something cold and metal being strapped around her waist, and two knobby, fat metal shafts protruding from what appeared to be a metal band attached at the front and back to the band wrapped around her waist - almost if it was metal underwear with dildos attached to the inner part.
“Nngh!” Harriet grunted as Professor Kettleburn drove the iron dildos into her lower openings, stretching her vagina and anus tightly - they weren’t more than five inches in length, but they were still very uncomfortable. Then the professor tightened the bands until the metal “knickers” were firmly in place.
“What’s that for?” Harriet moaned in bewilderment.
“Tha’s t’keep ‘em little saplings safe, o’ course,” Kettleburn replied in a tone which suggested he thought Harriet was stupid. “Sprout’d have my hide if I let the Trolls damage them wee little babies. They’ll just have to make do with your other end.” Then he chuckled loudly.
Harriet groaned and her head slumped. Of course! As far as everyone else was concerned, every orifice was fair game - unless there was somebody’s pets growing inside them. She knew right then that Hermione was in for a much worse time of it. Harriet heard Kettleburn cackling as he shackled Hermione to the other bench and put him on her growing list - that bastard was enjoying this way too much to live.
Hermione tried her best to be stoic as her head dangled upside down from the pillory and her legs were widely spread and her ankles shackled to the poles, but her chest started heaving rapidly. She struggled not to panic and to keep herself from hyperventilating - that wouldn’t do her any good. Then she felt a metal band being placed around the front of her waist and heard what sounded like screws being tightened, attaching the metal band to the bench.
When Kettleburn had finished, Hermione’s lower back was firmly pressed against the table and she couldn’t even wriggle her waist.
“For your own safety,” he muttered, cackling again as he briefly fondled her vulva.

Even in her panic, Hermione’s logical mind couldn’t help agreeing with the professor that she probably was much safer being firmly strapped in place like this.

Satisfied that his two demonstration props were well prepared, Kettleburn lurched back towards the gate of the paddock and shut it behind him. All of the boys and the one Hufflepuff girl were now pressed against the fence while the rest of the girls hung back a bit, watching in abject horror.
“Now, Trolls are extremely dimwitted,” said Professor Kettleburn, returning to lecture mode. “But they do understand enough basic English to follow simple commands. They know they have to wait until I give the order....”
“Well, go on then - give the order...” said one of the Hufflepuff boys excitedly.
“Yeah,” said another, and soon a chant of, “Give the order,” rose from the boys... and the girl.
“Righ’ then,” Kettleburn chuckled. He raised his voice.
“On yer marks, get set, GO!” his voice boomed out across the forest glade.
The gormlessly grinning adolescent Trolls which had been listlessly hanging out, picking their noses and scratching their hairy bums, began lumbering forward. The earth shook lightly as the herd surrounded the benches. There was some scuffling and squabbling, and some bellowing; a few punches were thrown, knocking down several of the Forest Trolls.
“Now, class,” Professor Kettleburn called out loudly to be heard over the uproarious Trolls, “as ye can see, the biggest ones, having established their dominance, are moving into position. There’ll be a bit more fightin’ o’ course when the ones at the rear end o’ Potter figure out them holes is blocked, but they’ll jus’ have ter wait their turn ... course some of ‘em’ll probably jus’ start masturbatin’ - mebbe rub their members against Potter’s bum anyway...”
Harriet couldn’t hear anything Professor Kettleburn was saying - just the roars and grunts of the Trolls, and the sound of punches hitting their mark as the Trolls all fought around her. Harriet tried desperately to be brave, but there was no getting round it - she was terrified.
Finally one seemed to have won; the stench coming from under his tunic almost unbearable, and it was even worse when he tore the flap in front aside revealing an enormous, erect, yellowy green cock with a bluey green knob at the end poking out of some sort of sheath. Harriet was just glad the Troll wasn’t full grown - the cock was probably about ten inches already, and several inches thick. After Hagrid’s fifteen, nearly sixteen inch penis she reckoned she could handle it - if it weren’t for that godawful stink, like dirty toilet water.
The tufts of bristly dark green pubic hair and the gigantic hairy balls dangling between the Troll’s legs were daunting as well. Harriet wasn’t looking forward to having her face buried in that crotch at all.
The Troll took no notice of Harriet’s ruminations of course. Without any fanfare the massive beast grabbed Harriet’s head in its giant grubby hands and thrust his hips. Harriet quickly opened her mouth before he could smash through her teeth.
Harriet barely had time to register the sliminess of the vile tasting Troll penis in her mouth as it slid over her tongue and plunged into her throat. With one violent thrust Harriet’s lips slammed into the base of the cock, the filthy, matted, dark green pubic bristles smothering her face as the hairy balls slapped under her chin. Harriet’s entire body quaked with the force of the incursion.
Tightly gripping Harriet’s head, the Troll rocked its hips back and forth at a rapid clip as it savagely raped her throat. She gagged and choked, barely noticing the rough, calloused hands groping her body, sliding between her torso and the bench to maul her little breasts, squeezing her buttocks; nor did she notice the several Troll cocks rubbing against her back and her bottom cheeks.

It was only when she felt great gobs of stickiness splattering against her backside that it really registered what they were doing to her. And that was when the monster fucking Harriet’s throat exploded inside her, its seed spilling like a river of molten lava into her stomach. Harriet was dazed, coughing and sputtering, when the Troll filled her mouth with semen as it retreated.
Harriet barely had time to catch her breath, long ropes and strands of Troll cum drooling from her mouth before another Troll cock replaced the first. It went on and on for the full hour of the first period. And by the time the period was over, there wasn’t one inch of Harriet’s body which wasn’t drenched in Troll semen, and it continued to pour from her mouth as her swollen stomach drained.
Hermione hadn’t fared any better - indeed, as Harriet had predicted, Hermione had the worst end of the deal as all three of her orifices were available to the Trolls. The first Troll aimed for Hermione’s pussy, but barreled into her sphincter at full speed instead.
The intrusion was so sudden and painful that it took her breath away, and by the time Hermione started to scream, a gargantuan cock muffled the sound as it lodged in her esophagus. To make matters worse, as her head was tilted back, everything was upside down and the hairy balls whacked her forehead. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, her body shuddering as it was pounded from both ends.
The Troll-penis drilling Hermione’s rectum reached depths she had never dreamed it could as it lunged in and out, her sphincter clinging to it tightly. Through her dizziness as her world was quite literally turned upside down, Hermione became aware of her breasts being groped and scratched, then released as Troll cocks slid across her boobs and stomach.
When the Trolls at each end of Hermione stiffened, their cocks buried as deeply as possible, she braced herself. Sure enough, Hermione felt a fountain of Troll-jizz squirting inside her rear channel, filling her colon and rectum; it was so voluminous that spurted out between the puckered ring of her stretched anus and the thick shaft of the Troll’s penis.
Hermione was simultaneously aware of the semen flooding her stomach, throat, and mouth; there was so much Troll-cum that it spilled from her lips which were tightly wrapped around the other Troll’s shaft and snorted out of her nostrils. Hermione was glad she had kept her eyelids squeezed shut as she felt the sperm streaming across her cheeks, eyes, and forehead.
And one after the other, the Troll-cocks sliding across the skin of Hermione’s abdomen and breasts convulsively released their stickiness all over her while two Trolls replaced the ones at either end. Hermione nearly choked on the new Troll-penis plunging into her throat, as she hadn’t had any time to recover from the first.
It was a small mercy that the cock of the second Troll at Hermione’s other end found its mark, burying itself to the hilt inside her vagina - a very small mercy as it fucked her with a raw intensity which very nearly beggared her imagination.
Again and again, Hermione found herself thrashing around as she tried to cope with the huge penises pummeling her simultaneously at both ends. By the time the first period of the day was over, Hermione had been deluged by Troll-semen; it gushed from her sore orifices and rivers spilled from her abdomen and breasts, pouring over the edge of the bench and puddling on the trampled dirt of the paddock.
Ten minutes after the first period had finished, Harriet and Hermione were just coming out of their stupor enough to hear Professor Kettleburn chanting, “Tergeo,” several times, and then, “Enervate,” twice.
Suddenly clearheaded and clean, Harriet and Hermione were appalled to hear the professor beginning his lecture all over again, this time to a class of fourth year Gryffindors and Slytherins...
~o0o~
Madam Pomfrey was livid when Harriet and Hermione were levitated into the hospital wing at the end of the school day. The Care of Magical Creatures professor hadn’t bothered enervating and cleaning them after the last lesson of the day, and they were both nearly passed out, but Pomfrey’s shrieks cut through the blurry fog in their brains.
“Out, out...” they heard her hollering at Professor Kettleburn. “I thought the headmaster told you two periods only....”
“Now, now Poppy,” Kettleburn said in as soothing a voice as he could mange, “It’s only a few bumps and bruises. They’ll be as right as rain as soon as you fix them up...”
“That’s not the bloody point!” Pomfrey raged. “Look at the state of them - they’re just children...”
“They’re Receptacles, Poppy...” Kettleburn retorted, “And I have a form signed by Dumbledore himself which let me have them for the entire day. I don’t know what gave you the idea that they were only assigned to me for two periods...”
“Ah, that would be my fault,” said a voice all too familiar to Harriet and Hermione.
“Your fault, headmaster?” Pomfrey gasped. “But why? ... Why lie to me?”
“It was not a lie when I first told you this morning Poppy - at that point I had only given permission for two periods. ... However, after you departed, Silvanus convinced me that it would be best to fill in all lessons each day, the better to get the demonstrations over with as soon as possible.
“After all there are five years worth and four houses of students to consider who are taking Care of Magical Creatures - at five classes per day, two houses per class, that is ten lessons total. Is it not better to get it out of the way in two days, instead of scattering it out over the period of a school-week at two per day?”
“Not for them it’s not!” Pomfrey screeched, clearly referencing Harriet and Hermione. “Now get out, the both of you!”
“But I must return them to their residence as soon as you have finished...” Professor Dumbledore began.
“No, I’m putting my foot down Albus! This is my hospital wing, and as Chief Healer my word goes! They’re staying here for the entire weekend! And if you give them to Silvanus on Monday for the whole day again, I can’t stop you... But you will give them over to my care again for the two days following Monday as well. Is that clear, Albus?”
“As a bell, Poppy,” said Dumbledore calmly. “That sounds like a very acceptable compromise.”
“I’m glad you think so,” Madam Pomfrey snapped. “Now shoo... begone!”
Neither Harriet nor Hermione could believe what they had heard. This was the first time that anyone had openly defied Dumbledore, and successfully at that...
~o0o~
Harriet and Hermione luxuriated in the feeling of fresh clean nighties against their skin, and the comfort of the soft bed which Madam Pomfrey had tucked them both into, having apparently decided that they would be better off with each other for company rather than in two separate beds.
They were both feeling much better after the pain potions, the calming draughts, the healing salves, the anti-bruising and swelling spell, and especially the proper wash that Pomfrey had ordered the house-elves to give them. And best of all, they had a dinner tray in front of them piled high with the best of the Feasts that Hogwarts had to offer.
It was amazing to be able to eat what they liked again, pork chops or roast beef, roast chicken or lamb chops, steak and kidney pie or shepherd’s pie, and all the trimmings imaginable. Madam Pomfrey was even letting them drink something wonderful which tasted a bit like butterscotch, which was usually only available to third years and up due to its very slight alcohol content.
Harriet and Hermione dug into the feast like there was no tomorrow, almost making Ron Weasley look like a genteel diner in comparison. After two weeks of mostly living off the bodily fluids of the other students, it was pure bliss - and that was even before they got to dessert...
Finally, both feeling pleasantly full, after wiping their faces and hands on the damp linen napkins, Harriet and Hermione lay back on their nice soft pillows. Then Harriet put an arm around Hermione, and Hermione nestled in the crook of Harriet’s shoulder. For a short while they lay like that, cuddling, simply listening to each other breathing.
Finally, Harriet broke the silence.
“Blimey Hermione,” she said quietly, “Every time I think things can’t get much worse, somehow they manage to come up with something...”
“Yes, that was pretty awful today,” Hermione agreed.
Harriet sensed a “but” in there somewhere, and she was trying to think of what could have been worse than being gang-raped by Trolls. Finally, Harriet’s curiosity got the better of her.
“Er... So... erm... I was just wondering....” Harriet trailed off; she couldn’t really think of a delicate way to ask the question.
“It could have been worse, I suppose,” Hermione suddenly offered, surprising Harriet. “It could have been a gang of Snapes....”
AN:
@ Skepna: The "receptacles" from previous years are housed separately from the students in a location yet to be revealed. As to life debts, no, not in Fanon's literal sense anyway.
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Mudbloods at Hogwarts