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Hermione Granger and the Sneaking Spell	By : TheMidnightTalebearer Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Ron/Hermione Views: 15051 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from writing this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Hermione Finds a Spell
- 1
"Akobabae lumaho," Hermione read quietly, carefully going over every syllable. It was just after dinner, but she was already in bed. Her curtains were drawn shut despite Gryffindor's girls dormitory being nearly empty. The witch's heart was beating at a maddening pace that threatened to rip a hole through her tee shirt. She struggled to control her breathing enough to allow her to repeat the words, but her thoughts were whirling out of control. A high-pitched, mad, sort of giggle escaped her lips, and Hermione immediately clamped her hand over her mouth. "I have got to get myself under control," she breathed. "After all that work, I can't mess it up now."

For the last two months Hogwarts' resident genius had been hard at work on an important problem. Every new term seemed to present her and her friends Ron and Harry with some unspeakable new horror. Trolls, dementors, dragons, giant spiders, Death Eaters, centaurs, basillisks, and who knew what else. What was worse was that no adult, not Mrs. Weasley, not even Professor Dumbledore, wanted to give thenm any relevant information about any of these perils other than to stay away from them. That meant that anything the three of them needed to know had to be discovered on their own, often at night or betwen classes. It was incredibly risky. Hermione had reflected on the time she'd nearly turned herself into a cat. Harry and Ron had nearly been devoured by spiders once, she had been petrified, and they'd all nearly been expelled a dozen times. She'd noted sadly that part of the reason Harry's godfather was dead was because he was looking for information no one would give him in his dreams. Things had come to a head when they began to suspect Draco Malfoy might be a Death Eater. From that moment on, Hermione had set herself the task of finding an easier, faster, way for them to gather the information they needed.

She'd stopped at absolutely nothing. Hermione visited Ravenclaw and peppered the Gray Lady with questions. She'd snuck out of the school by Fred and George's secret pathways. She'd borrowed Harry's cloak and rummaged through the teaching staff's offices. And nearly every night, she'd raided the restricted section until Ron threatened to jinx himself if she didn't stop risking her safety. After that, she'd had to sneak around Ron too. Once or twice, she had collapsed from sheer exhaustion. But today she had finally discovered what she was looking for in the back of a tattered Hogsmeade library spellbook. She'd been practicing the words throughout the day in preparation for a test she planned to conduct at midnight. Hermione prayed the spell would succeed since the last time she fainted, Ron nearly went mad according to Harry.

"Akobabae lumaho," Hermione repeated more soberly. "Damn, I wish I had a time tuner."

When midnight finally came to Gryffindor Tower, and Hermione hadn't heard a peep from her fellow sixth years in hours, she slipped out of bed, wearing only a tee shirt and white panties, and spoke the words of the spell at full voice. She instantly vanished, and though she cheered wildly at that, she didn't make the slightest sound.

"It works!" she fairly screamed. "I finally did it!" For a full minute, Hermione was delirious. When she pulled herself together, the witch walked over to the nearest bed, reminding herself that the spell needed to be put through its paces. Concentrating, she touched a section of solid curtain and pushed her hand right through the material. She followed a second later, stepping into the solid mattress so that it surrounded her legs up to her thighs. The occupant was a black girl with slightly larger than average tits. She was sound asleep, topless, and wore her panties around her ankles. Two of the fingers of her right hand were lodged in her twat, and her left one was cupping the corresponding breast. She had apparently dozed off in the middle of her fun, and when she saw this, Hermione fell victim to a fit of giggles.

"The spell works at any rate," she said when it finally passed. She started to head back toward her bed for a well-earned rest, when a sudden desire arrested her heart. Instantly, a fiery blush spread across her face, and she scolded herself for having such a brazen thought, She struggled to get to her bed, lift the spell, and go to sleep. She had done all this to save her friends, not to spy on them. But she simply could not resist the urge, nor deny the slow, needy, pulses between her legs. In he eagerness to find the solution to their problems, she had neglected her pussy for the entire research period.

Sneaking around for the past few weeks had been much more exciting than Hermione cared to admit. Under the protection of her spell, however, the young witch was quickly becoming giddy with newfound power. When she reached the common room, she slipped of her panties and swung them around her head while she did a suggestive hula dance. Giggling all the time, she plopped herself in her favorite chair and started lightly swatting her pussy to the beat of a Weird Sisters song. Moments later, she got to her feet, faced the chair, grabbed the sides, bent over, and started humping the air. After five minutes of that, she remembered what she had come to do, donned her panties once more, and crept up the stairs to the boys dormitory.

Except for some steady snoring, the room seemed perfectly quiet. That is, until Hermione listened more carefully. Above the din, she could just barely make out a repeated thudding sound that sounded to her like flesh hitting flesh. "Oh, my God!" Hermione exclaimed when her ears followed the sound back to Ron's bed. "Is he wanking?" she asked the room. In six seconds she was through the curtain and could see for herself. Sure enough, Ron was wide awake and had thrown off his covers. A generous amount of lube covered his right hand, and he was pumping his thick, eight inch, cock with gusto. Hermione stared at her friend's rock hard monster, shining with lube and dripping a thick glob of precum from the tip. It seemed incredibly lewd to her, and she started to wonder what he would do to her with that thing if he knew she was there and very nearly naked. She glanced up at his face and found it twisted with pure lust. He was completely naked and sweating profusely. In his left hand was a rather large picture frame. Inside it, two chubby Indian girls with the biggest tits Hermione had ever seen were ravaging each other's hairy cunts with their tongues and beating their asses like snare drums.

"That's it, you dirty, fucking, whore," Ron began to whisper, pumping harder. "Eat that fat, sweaty, piggy's gash and make her squeal. Drill that cunt, you twat hungy slut. Make me spunk up her slop hole so you can wolf it down." Hermione felt her jaw drop as she continued to listen. She'd heard Ron say some pretty outlandish things before, but she had never heard anything like this. She glanced back at his cock, and the precum was positively bubbling now. As he spewed still more filth, his hand became a blur. Sweat was pouring down Ron's body in rivulets, and he was squirming furiously. She simply could not believe how much her friend was enjoying demeaning tttwo random lesbians. It was then that she felt something run down her leg and , taking a look, was astionished to find her panties soaked. She'd been fiercely rubbbing her cunt without realizing it.

"Fuck! How in the hell is this turning me on?" But it was turning her on, no matter what she cared to tell herself. There was no denying the cunt juice streaming down her leg. And her pussy was pulsing again, begging for more attention. She fought to deny that request, but the smell of the sweat, the heat Ron was radiating, and his big, throbbing, cock, not to mention the perversity of the entire situation were beginning to overwhelm her more logical nature. In mere moments, she surrendered, stuffing her hand into her panties. The lewd, greedy, moan that escaped her lips then shocked her.

"Yes, whore. Slurp her fucking butthole," Ron was whispering fiercely. "Tongue fuck her ass while you fist her cunt. Fuck, I wish that Indian bitch I took out once would do some fucking shit like this. That's it. Fist that slut. Stuff your whole arm in. Turn that hairy whore into a slutpuppet. Gonna spunk soon. Open up that cunt for me."

"I'm working on it!" Hermione moaned, yanking her panties aside and ramming four fingers into her cunt. "Oh fuck, jerk that cock! I want to see it shoot. I want to watch those horny bitches drain you dry! You wanna fuck someone, Ron? You want to spunk up a sopping cunt? Well, I'm right here in front of you, and I want it fucking deep! Oh fuck, give me that dick! Stuff it up my wet hole! Give it to me, you fucking...what? No! Why the hell are you stopping?"

Ron had suddenly let his cock go, and was now shoving the picture under his pillow. Before him, bright-eyed and bushy-haired, Hermione looked like she might riot. Her hand was pretty well wedged in her cunt and positively shining with juices. She had never been so horny in her life. At this point, she could fuck Harry's Firebolt in front of him. Why in Merlin's name had he stopped. And then she saw Ron timidly pull out a second picture frame.

Hermione nearly came when she saw it. Two mini orgasms raced through her body. It was a picture of her. Not a magical one that moved. She was just standing there smiling in her school uniform. As Ron stared at it, he suddenly looked incredibly nervous. Hermione expected him to start jacking off again and whisper about how much he'd like to fist her hole, but Ron just stared for two full minutes, looking dispondent.

"I..I can't do it," he said at last, and he started to tuck the picture away. Hermione's heart flared through the fog of lust. She had always been fairly certian that he at least liked her somewhat, but there had always been a lingering doubt. Now that doubt was gone entirely. The picture never made it back to its hiding place. Instead, Ron kissed it gently, and petted the frame. He looked at it again, then glanced at his stiff boner. "Fever dream, that," he sighed quietly.

"It is not!" Hermione insisted before she remembered he couldn't hear her. As if he had, Ron began stroking again. He said nothing, but simply stared at the picture intensely as he pumped his meat. Moving beside him, Hermione tried to match his pace with her fingers. She locked her eyes on Ron as she churned he pussy juices. Without Ron's barrage of filth, there was only the thudding noise, the sploshing sounds her fingers were making, and everyone else's snoring. In two minutes time, Ron was squirming again, breathing heavily, and pumping feverishly. Hermione was softly moaning Ron's name and shaking violently as she felt the waves of pleasure beginning to rise.

"Oh fuck. I love you, Hermione," Ron gasped as he splattered her picture, and everything in range with thick ropes of cum. For twenty seconds, he shot spurt after spurt, struggling to control the volume of the moans that was causing. At last, he collapsed on the bed beside Hermione's legs. If those had been solid, they would have been glazed with cum.

Hermione didn't need to worry about volume, and she was joyously screaming as a second orgasm cascaded over her. She was loudly promising Ron hours of kissing, a date, and a properfucking in the Room of Requirement. She was jamming her fingers in her twat so hard, she was certian she would discover one of them had been sprained later. By the time orgasm number four was wearing off, she could see Ron was nearly finished cleaning off her picture.

She had to restrain herself from attacking her pussy again when she realized Ron had licked up a small amount of his mess. He was attacking the rest of it with large napkins. She made her hand solid when she was certian he was looking elsewhere, and scooped up a large dollop he hadn't gotten to yet. The moment she tasted it, she had an overwhelming desire to shed her spell and lick everything clean. But she was certain that if she did, Ron would have a dozen heart attacks, and every boy in Gryffindor would wake up and see her more or less naked and dripping wet. She made her lips solid enough to kiss Ron on the forehead, which confused him mightily for several minutes. Then she crept back to her bed and struggled to sleep without manhandling her twat..

Four days later, Hermione revealed the Sneaking Spell to her friends, patiently going over the words and wand movements. Though Ron complained Hermione was being bossy because Ron, both boys named her a freaking genius. As it turned out, Harry was the real genius. Using his Firebolt and some impressively tricky flying in tight quarters, he defeated the sliding staircase that guarded the girls dormitory. He had to taxi Ron up, but afterward, they spent hours spying on the girls of Gryffindor. Eventually, they used the spell for its intended purpose, learning more in a few days than they had in seven years.

Two days after that, Hermione "borrowed" Ron, ostensibly to take a few hours to teach him how to make the Draught of Peace properly. In reality, Hermione kissed Ron to piecies, the pair of them snuck off to Hogsmeade, and an astounded Ron enjoyed Hermione's pussy for the first time. If Harry suspected anything, he said nothing.

In the months that followed, Harry destroyed the Vanishing cabinet in the Room of Requirement. Using a basilisk fang from the Chamber of Secrets he began destoying all the Horcruxes he could reach. He got to the others further afield via thestrals, the Floo Network, and Portkeys. It was hard to catch someone no one could see or hear who just happened to know everything. By the end of term, Voldemort's forces were in chaos. By the time the seventh years arrived at Hogwarts the following year, he was dead. Professors Snape and McGonagall shared headmaster duties over the coming years, and everyone lived happily ever after.
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Hermione Granger and the Sneaking Spell