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Relieving the Tension	By : PBG Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 11302 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Relieving the Tension
- 2-Chapter 2
- 1
- 2
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
This contains graphic sex between underage wizards. You’re jealous, aren’t you? This is a bit of a vignette that takes place before Ravenclaw Grrl’s ‘Brownie Batter’ story. She has ever so kindly given me permission to take a few ideas I gleaned from her work and create this story. I hope I can do it justice!

‘Oof!’ Hermione grunted as she hit the ground. Again. She’d all but given up flying once she made it out of Madam Hooch’s first year It seemed much safer to wait until she learned to apparate, being as she ended up in the hospital wing any time she attempted to mount a broom.

But she hadn’t counted on having broom skills tested as part of her O.W.L.s. How had she missed that part of the exam? Not that high-speed action or fancy maneuvers were required; Hermione was pretty confident that one was to stay on the broom at least until they’d gotten both feet off the ground, however. Her mind sharpened with the sting of failure she felt ‘ it wasn’t a feeling she was accustomed to.

Whipping her leg over the shaft, she remounted and kicked off once more. This try was more successful and she sailed upward to the lower level of stands along the Quidditch pitch. Carefully, she moved her hands forward along the broom, picking up a bit of speed. Her face was set in grim lines of concentration as she focused on steering along the path of the pitch. Working her way higher, she pulled upward until she was level with the tops of the seats, then the towers representing each house.

Getting her air legs, she pushed the broom slightly in all four directions, gauging how much force was needed to change position. She pulled up on the handle and easily rose high into the air above the center pitch. Easy, Granger, she told herself, don’t get too excited about actually getting the bloody thing off the ground without breaking an arm, or you’ll do it for sure.

Hermione felt like jumping up and down once her feet planted back in the soft grass near her takeoff point. Her glee was cut short when her broom threw her off during her dismount. Tears sprang into her eyes when she landed hard on her elbow from four feet up.

She clutched her arm, rolling to her back to rub the burning tingles shooting up her arm.

‘Are you okay?’ A slightly out of breath Fred Weasley appeared over her prone figure, a worried frown on his face. ‘You got thrown pretty hard.’

Embarrassed, Hermione stood up, still clutching her arm. ‘I’ll be okay. Blasted thing,’ she gave a murderous look at the school-issue broom, ‘I’ll never be able to pass the riding skills section of my O.W.L.s at this rate!’

‘You don’t know how to ride? What kind of witch are you?’ Fred laughed. Hermione flipped her hair over her shoulder angrily.

‘No one’s perfect,’ she huffed.

Fred laughed again at the affronted tone in her voice as well as the fact that there actually was something Hermione Granger couldn’t do better than witches twice her age. Hermione could see the plan forming in Fred’s mind and she wondered what he was going to get up to. Tell everyone that perfect Hermione Granger couldn’t fly? Or even better yet, blackmail her for special privileges?

‘How about a trade of services? I’ll help you out with flying if you’ll give me equal time with arithmancy.’ He grimaced. ‘It’s torture!’

Her sense of fairness appeased, she nodded.

‘Why isn’t Ron or Harry helping you out here?’

‘Ron just yells at me and makes me more nervous, then laughs when I fall! And Harry is such a natural, he gets frustrated with me too, even though he never says anything.’

Hermione thought she heard Fred muttering, ‘Ron, you stupid git,’ as he motioned for her to remount the broom. She shook her head firmly.

‘I am done being beaten and battered for the evening. Besides, it’s getting dark.’

‘All the better. It’s actually easier to fly at night, since you can’t see the ground well enough to get scared.’

‘Fred, no way. I want to know exactly how far I’m going to fall before it happens!’

‘See, you have no faith in your abilities! Here, hop on,’ he scooted back on his well-worn Firebolt and waved her over. Hermione stood her ground and shook her head slowly.

‘Hermione,’ he said firmly, ‘get on this broom.’

She sidled up to where Fred was straddling the handle. ‘How do I know that you won’t drop me on my head just for fun?’

‘Because I never joke about flying. Put your leg over,’ he commanded, taking her arm for leverage. Once she was astride, Fred leaned over and positioned her hands one above the other, his biceps grazing the sides of her breasts.

‘Now, the forward hand will control direction and speed. Your aft hand will control your horizontal position. You were knocked off your broom, Hermione, because you didn’t release your aft hand first. That caused the broom to twirl and you to be bucked off.’

‘So how do you fly using only one or no hands?’ she asked, puzzled. ‘You know, neither Ron nor Harry told me anything about how to control my broom.’

‘I guess it’s just something you pick up on if you fly enough. The first hand off the broom should always be your aft, then your forward. If this doesn’t feel comfortable for you,’ he leaned in again, her hair brushing across his face, ‘practice on the ground until you know which hand you want where.’ He gently pried her fingers loose from the wood.

‘You want to have a firm grip, but holding on too tightly makes the broom less maneuverable.’ Warm hands closed over hers, and Hermione felt the rough calluses that had developed from years of hard riding. ‘Like this,’ he said, lacing his thick fingers through her smaller ones.

An electric jolt shot through Hermione, tingling through her arms and breasts before pooling into a low heat in her stomach.

Fred moved back, as much to steady the broom as to steady himself against the growing rod in his pants. Her hands were smooth and cool as porcelain; the clean smell of her hair was wreaking havoc on his senses.

‘Okay, kick off the ground firmly,’ he said, ‘and use your forward hand to guide you up.’ They made a rickety start, but with Fred’s hands flexing over hers, the broom rose steadily above the pitch. ‘You have to trust me, else we’ll both end up on the ground.’

Their initial tries were thwarted by Hermione’s rigid posture and tight grip, which made the broom lurch and buck. Fred did his best to help steer, but Hermione was so tense it was nearly impossible for him to keep her on the broom and navigate at the same time.

‘You’re doing all right. Just relax into it, don’t think about it too much.’

‘Um, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,’ she remarked wryly, ‘but the term ‘relax’ is anathema to my personality.’

He scooted as close as could to her and leaned forward to whisper in her ear.

‘You know what the makes the best stress reliever?’

Before Hermione knew what he was on about, one of his hands had moved to the hem of her robe and was sliding up her thigh.

Her breath rushed out of her lungs and all the blood in her head went straight to her breasts and pussy. Gods, Fred Weasley?! She’d never so much as looked twice at either of the twins. And he wasn’t stopping the movement of his fingers, which skimmed further north, toward’

She made to look at him and the broom lurched, streaking upward at a steep angle. Hermione would have let go had Fred’s hand not shot out to grip the handle and bring them to a level stop. Even so, she slid backward and hit his chest with a solid ‘thump.’

Fred struggled to regain control over the Firebolt, which would have been easy had Hermione’s backside not been wedged into the notch of his thighs. Finally bringing the broom to a hovering stop, he reluctantly disengaged himself before leaning ahead to speak.

‘Sorry,’ they both said at the same time.

‘No, I’m sorry, I should have given you time to relax before we went up.’

‘I ‘ I should have been paying more attention,’ she muttered, embarrassed. She had nearly caused both of them serious injury.

Her attention had been focused on the warm swirl of air past her ear. She’d turned, losing focus on her grip. Flushing pink and scooting forward on the handle, she continued, ‘maybe this isn’t such a good idea.’

‘Hey, since when did you give up so quickly?’ He queried.

‘I’m really not much of a flyer, I guess. I can’t seem to relax.’

‘Well, we’ll have to change that if you want to pass your O.W.L. for flying, now won’t we?’ He grinned against her hair. ‘I think that’s the first lesson you need.’

They circled the pitch, Fred guiding the broom this time. He again moved forward. He intended to show Hermione how to de-stress; damned if he hadn’t been halfway there just a second ago. He could almost smell her curiosity, and he intended to satisfy it, and more.

Thoughts were whirling in Fred’s mind, all of them with prurient intent. The unintentional press of her hips against him made his cock pulse even more thickly, and he wanted to convince her to work off her tension with him—in the most primal of ways.

Slowly, he lowered the broom until they were hovering only a dozen or so feet from the ground. ‘Now, lean back against me,’ he said, ‘and let me guide you.’

She did so, and felt that he was hard. Instinctively, she wiggled against his lap, feeling her body liquefy slightly at the firm friction. A hiss of breath told her that he was reacting much the same way she was.

‘Hermione, stop,’ Fred said warningly. ‘I need to concentrate here.’

Something made her feel a bit reckless, whether it was the wind in her hair, or the knowledge that she was having an effect on Fred, she didn’t know. His hard thighs became even harder as he tried to hold her hips back from his.

Unbeknownst to Hermione, Fred was enjoying this little game. ‘Let her think she’s chasing me,’ he thought. He held himself back from her until she had to move to maintain contact. When she did so, he moved a hand to her stomach, holding her against his erection.

‘Like that?’ he whispered directly into her ear, tracing the rim with his tongue. Her gasp and corresponding wiggle was the answer he was looking for.

He returned to the hem of her robes, once again testing the silky smoothness of her skin against the roughness of his fingertips. This time he was in control and continued to the top of her leg, turning in to run his finger along the elastic of her knickers.

‘Fred.’ Her voice was higher than normal, thready. In contrast to the denial that she intended to give, her legs opened slightly.

‘Hmmm?’ He answered as he slid under the fabric. Two fingers found her sweet spot and slid over the wetness there.

‘Oh!’ Hermione cried as he circled her clit. She collapsed against him, riding his fingers. The few fumbling experiences she’d had with Viktor Krum last summer disappeared from her mind. While they weren’t wholly unsatisfying, being able to establish a rhythm was essential. And Fred was essentially driving her mad, as his fingers moved into the spot she’d freed, plunging first one, then another, finger into her aching hole.

‘I think we’d better get off,’ he said on a husky groan. The double entendre was not lost on Hermione, and suddenly it was what she wanted most. Screw her O.W.L.s, screw learning to fly, so long as she could screw Fred, right now.

For his part, Fred wanted to fuck her while they rode above the pitch, since the broom shed was a good 20 yards away from them. Maybe once he’d taught Hermione the finer points of riding’

She cried out with frustration when he slid his hand away from her. He planted his feet and the broom fell to the ground. Grabbing it, the discarded school broom, and Hermione’s hand, he pulled her toward the shed, which was windowless. She was as eager as he was to get to a more private spot, and ran to keep up.

Their lips came together before the door closed. Fred threw the brooms to the floor and crushed Hermione’s body to his, tongues entwined.

Hermione ground her hips to his, moving wantonly, making her intention clear. She hoped he wouldn’t want a declaration; she just wanted him to finish what he’d started.

He intended to. Backing them further into the shed, he pushed Hermione against the polishing table, which was laden with freshly laundered Quidditch robes. Their robes joined the others, and Fred tore at the buttons of Hermione’s shirt. She moaned when his hands covered her breasts, squeezing and pinching the nipples lightly. His thumbs began a hypnotic circling as he kissed his way down her neck.

Hermione’s hand was wedged between them, stroking his cock firmly. The buttons of his pants were tough to unfasten due to the tautness of the fabric. Once freed, he sighed.

‘Thanks,’ he said against her chest. In return, he turned and suckled her nipple through the lace of her bra. She arched against his lips, groaning at the combined heat and friction.

‘Gods, that’s good,’ she moaned.

‘It’s going to get better.’ He released her nipple with a light tug and kissed his way down her stomach. In spite of the lust zinging in her veins, she became shy when he began to kiss the mound of curly chestnut-colored hair.

‘Fred?’ she said hesitantly, pushing at his shoulders.

‘Let me.’ he said before he parted her legs and dipped his tongue into her cleft.

She made no more protests to stop, but uttered protests that meant ‘don’t stop.’ Writhing against his lips and tongue, the tension built like a thousand harp strings being plucked. When she exploded, he curled his arms around her thighs and rode along her waves of pleasure, flicking his tongue to draw every last shudder from her.

Slowly she released the handfuls of robes she’d been clutching. Breathing hard, she opened her eyes to see Fred look up at her, his lips glistening with her juices. He was grinning like a cat that’d captured a rather tasty canary. When he moved forward over her, she could taste herself on his lips.

For whatever reason, Hermione had always thought losing her virginity would be a big affair, full of ceremony, candles, wine and romance. Never had it occurred to her that lust would be involved and the hows, whys and wheres would be secondary to the need to get him inside her ‘ now.

Her lips rose to meet his as he shifted up, and she struggled to push his trousers and underwear over his hips, frantic to have him fill her, unmindful of her inexperience.

Fred wasn’t, however. The hot flesh pressing against his prick made him want to thrust into her immediately and until he was crazy, but he held her hips down.

‘Hermione, have you done this before?’ he asked. He was almost sure she had never gone this far, but he wanted to be positive.

‘No, but if you stop now, I’ll be forced to kill you,’ she panted, arching up to meet him, her hips rotating in a sensual rhythm that was driving them both crazy.

Fred pushed his underwear down and guided his stiff cock to her entrance. He wanted to go slow to be sure she got a little enjoyment from the experience. She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes tightly shut for a few seconds initially; once he began to move, however, she was the one to set the pace.

It was hard and fast.

He couldn’t get deep enough. She couldn’t get her legs wide enough.

His mouth and hands were everywhere ‘ her neck, her breasts, her lips.

Her legs were wrapped around him like a vise, and her pussy was tighter than one.

And when he touched her sweet spot once more, she found the perfect angle and theme me together, groaning their mutual release into the other’s shoulder.

Minutes ticked by. Once they had reestablished regular breathing patterns, they parted, smiling, and arranged their clothes. Fred put away the brooms and peeked out of the shed before they exited to return to the castle.

Hormones appeased, Hermione found herself suffused with a delicious lassitude and in a decidedly cheerful mood. Looping her arm in Fred’s, she practically skipped up the path leading to the front door.

‘When do you want to meet for Arithmancy tutoring?’

‘How about Tuesday after dinner?’

‘Sounds good. We can decide when to practice, um, flying, then,’ she quirked her eyebrow at him teasingly.

‘And other riding skills as well.’ His brow arched in kind.

They parted ways inside the castle doors, Hermione to the library and Fred to the Gryffindor common room.

Once the other was out of sight they each shook their respective heads. It was going to be an interesting term.
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Relieving the Tension