TITLE: Hermione Granger and the Mirror of Erised
AUTHOR: Fygero
CATEGORIES: Mg(12), 1st, preteen, ped, cons, upskirt, oral, thighsex,
piv, heart
WORDS: 14,200

SUMMARY: When Hogwarts' doctor catches 12yo Hermione sneaking around the
infirmary after midnight, his first instinct is to hide and observe. . . 
until, that is, she steps in front of The Mirror of Erised and he glimpses
his true heart's desire--little Hermione stripped and ripe for plucking. 
What he could never have known is that Hermione's true heart's desire is
not so different.  The mirror has big plans for both of them.

WARNING: This story contains explicit sex scenes with a minor.  If this
is likely to offend you, please close this file of click BACK on your
browser now.

SYNOPSIS: Hearing a scratching at the infirmary door, Hogwarts'
attending physician, Dr.  Tribulus, extinguishes his lantern to watch. 
It's Hermione Granger, sneaking into Harry Potter's bedside.  As Tribulus
watches, her dowdy school uniform transforms into his true heart's
desire--a sexy, fitted, skintight sheath that hugs her succulent Loli body.
The Mirror of Erised!  He's been staring into its reflection.  Hermione
hears him and comes to investigate.  Tribulus watches from the darkness but
can't help himself, he simply must reach out and touch, finally revealing
his presence.  Not that he cares; the girl is trespassing and he is in the
right.  An opportunity!  What might she do to stay out of trouble?  A kiss?
A touch?  When they look back in the magic mirror, they both glimpse
Hermione's truth, that Tribulus might steal something more than a kiss. 
Perhaps something much more.

DISCLAIMER: The characters and events depicted in this work are
fictional; and resemblance to actual people or events is entirely
coincidental.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a work of fantasy.  Although many men may think
and act like the character Tribulus, young girls do not think and act like
Hermione.  Her highly biddable and sexual nature is a fantasy that does not
exist; in fact, it would be dangerous to believe that it does.  If you
enjoy this type of fantasy, I encourage you to read the story; it is very
erotic, very graphic in its detail, and very enjoyable.  If you have
trouble distinguishing between the fantasy of Hermione and the reality of
real girls then you need help; I recommend discussing the problem with a
medical practitioner.

HERMIONE GRANGER AND THE MIRROR OF ERISED 
by Fygero

   The metallic sound of scratching broke the midnight silence in the
school infirmary.  Seated at his desk in the adjoining physician's
quarters, Dr.  Tribulus heard it, and, with a flickering lamp in hand, went
to investigate.

   He stopped at the foot of the Potter kid's bed.  Silence.  The boy
hadn't regained consciousness since that business with. . .  well, with 'He
who shall not be named'.  He hoped the boy would recover.  By all accounts
he would make a fine wizard.

   The scratching came again.  It was coming from further down the
infirmary.  A mouse?  Or maybe that Weasley kid's rat.

   He lowered the lamp's wick to a dim glow and crept down the row of beds,
stopping, listening.

   Nothing.  Just dark silence.

   Tribulus sighed.  He had better things to do than chasing down escaped
familiars.  Potter's owl was out on the wing.  If it was a rat making that
noise, Hedwig would make short work of it when it returned.

   He left the lamp burning by Potter's bed and went back to his quarters,
averting his eyes from the Mirror of Erised as he entered.  What a strange
find it had been--a mirror that reflects your heart's true desire.  In
addition to his duties as attending doctor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft
and Wizardry, he was the curator of magical artefacts (those that
Dumbledore didn't hoard to himself), and he'd never seen its like.

   He sat again at his desk and slid his other lamp closer.  He'd almost
finished sketching the mirror.  Just a little more ghostly shading on the
glass, he reckoned--make it seem more ominous.  He'd contemplated penciling
an image in the reflection, but one man's true-heart's desire was very
different from the next.  What could he depict that would convey the
insidious attraction of the thing?  It was beyond his talent as an artist.

   That scratching again.  Louder.

   Tribulus looked up, alert, and his eyes went instinctively to the
mirror, which was angled to the door and showed the row of beds down the
adjoining infirmary.

   The outer door creaked open.

   An intruder!  He blew out his lamp.  The only light left was the one
beside Potter's bed.

   A shadow crept in and silently closed the door behind itself.  It was
small, so obviously not that brute Hagrid, who was wont to roam the school
grounds at all hours.  But in Hogwarts, small didn't mean harmless. 
Tribulus breathed silently, watchfully, still oblivious to the fact he was
staring into the Mirror of Erised.

   The shadow moved stealthily up the row of beds, approaching the lamp
light.  Was Potter in danger?  Voldemort was dead, but that didn't mean
other dark forces weren't at work.

   Arriving at the foot of the bed, the figure's cowl resolved into a mess
of dark hair and the light illuminated a small, freckled nose.  Tribulus
let out his breath.  It was the Granger girl, Hermione, one of the heroes
of that business with the Philosopher's Stone.  What was she doing up at
this hour?  And barely dressed, as well.  No tights, no blazer, she was
wearing only her uniform blouse and grey skirt with prim white socks and
sandals.

   Picking up the lamp, she moved to Potter's bedside.  She whispered
something too low for Tribulus to hear, but the cadence, the intonation--it
was some sort of spell.  A healing incantation?  Tribulus had tried them
all.  What Potter needed was rest.

   As he watched, the girl bent down and kissed Potter on the lips.  It was
brief, the kind of kiss you might expect from twelve-year-olds, but there
was passion in it.  Even by the lamp light, Tribulus could see the swollen
fullness of the girl's lips, the rosy glow on her cheeks.  Sweeping her
hair back, she put her head on Potter's chest and hugged him.  She was
facing Tribulus's door, and he could see her lips form the words:

   *I love you, Harry.*

   Except what he heard in his head was, *I love you, Gerry.*

   Gerry.  Dr.  Gerard Tribulus.

   When she sat up again, her wild hair was inexplicably smooth, falling in
lustrous waves, and her baggy blouse was. . .  It was impossible, but it
was trimmer, tailored.  The girl was too young to have a figure, but the
cut of the blouse lent her one--slender at the waist where it tucked into
her uniform skirt and almost taut at the chest, where it hugged the shape
of her budding, unconstrained breasts.

   Dear God, Tribulus was getting hard.  What the hell was happening?

   He rose from his chair, gazing into the-

   *The mirror!*

   A wave of hot and cold swept his chest--the warring feelings of grief
and yearning, lust and shame.  The mirror. . .  The wretched thing showed
his true heart's desire, a pre-pubescent girl, her tiny body almost ripe,
so nearly ready to pluck.  It was a desire to which he'd never given
oxygen. Even in his role as physician, he'd never touched the girls
inappropriately.  He'd looked, of course.  Who wouldn't?  When they sat
cross-legged at their cauldrons or rode above him on broomsticks--it was
impossible not to look.  Flimsy little white panties hugging their tiny
pussies, thick alder broomsticks spreading their untrained cunt lips--how
he'd dreamed of replacing that hardwood shaft with their first taste of
pulsing flesh.

   Hermione kissed Potter again and stepped out from behind the bed,
revealing platform heels and trim coltish legs clad in knee-high white
socks.  She was a Loli temptress--a picture of pre-pubescent perfection.

   Tribulus gasped.  Hermione heard him and whirled to face his chamber
door, eyes wide and unblinking.  She could surely not see him in the
darkness, yet she stared straight into his soul, her succulent, painted
lips parted, narrow chest heaving.  In the magical mirror, her blouse had
become sheer and translucent, revealing the shallow curve of her high
breasts and the dark outline of small, brown areolas.

   Unblinking, she crept closer and stepped over the threshold into his
private room.  She scanned left and right, her eyes skating straight past
him in the shadows.

   With a silent incantation, he bade the mirror to swing a few degrees and
point toward the door. . .  toward the girl.  Hearing the movement, she
whirled to face it and trapped herself dead in front of the magical glass.

   She took a step closer.  "Oh my goodness." She touched her lips, her
hair, her chest.

   Tribulus no longer had the angle to see her in the mirror, and in real
life, she had reverted to her innocent, pre-teen form.

   "I'm beautiful," she whispered.

   *Yes, my dear, you are.* What did she see in the glass?  Not the
succulent, Loli virgin that Tribulus saw, surely.  But if not, what? 
Melting into the darkness with a wordless cloaking spell, he moved behind
her, watching the mirror, eager to once again feast on the sight of her
ripe sexualized avatar.

   Her reflection came into view over the shoulder of the real girl, who
was now close enough to reach out and touch.  Loli-Hermione's blouse had
melted away to diaphanous wisps.  As insubstantial as spider's silk, it hid
nothing from view, not the delicate swell of her young chest, not the
pebbled texture of her areolas, and certainly not the rubbery stiffness of
her nipples.

   In real life, and in the reflection, she lifted her hands and touched
them, tweaking the twin peaks, rolling them in her fingers.

   How could that be?  Did she sense his presence and was teasing him? 
Tribulus flicked his eyes from the girl to the glass, then back again.  It
was what it was--a twelve-year-old was touching herself in front of him.

   *She's seeing what I see.  And she likes it.*

   That simple truth burned like fire in his balls.  In real life, as in
his fantasy, she was becoming aroused.  Perhaps for the first time.  Would
she understand those fresh, unfamiliar stirrings between her legs? 
Tribulus imagined he could hear her beating heart, and in a moment of
folly, he cast a harmless spell to make it glow in her chest.

   *Ba-da-bump.*

   *Ba-da-bump.*

   He couldn't hear it, but he saw its glow in the mirror--deep red like
her coursing lifeblood.

   Hermione stared in wonder.  Mouth agape, sensual lips pursed in a
surprised 'O', she unbuttoned her blouse and looked upon her naked glowing
chest in the reflection.

   Tribulus watched too, probably more spellbound than the girl.  Whether
this was her heart's desire, or she simply saw his, he knew not, but she
saw what he saw.  She felt his desire.  The mirror had connected their
complimentary fantasies and opened an empathic link between them.  Tribulus
sensed it and fed it like a fire, pulling the cloak from his secret
desires, exposing the pleasures he'd enjoy with a ripe young plaything in a
darkened chamber.

   Without thinking, he uttered another silent spell--*Indumentis
Lolita*--and transmuted her dowdy uniform into the clothing they both saw
in the mirror.  Hermione rose up onto her new heels, lifting her ass and
pushing out her chest.  The white socks climbed her legs, chasing the
receding hemline of her skirt, which stopped scant inches from her panties.
And the blouse, it melted to nothing, a translucent wisp of sheer silk.

   "I don't understand," Hermione said, her voice faint and dreamlike. 
With trembling fingers, she lifted her skirt to gaze at the new fitted lace
panties hugging her groin, darkened by a small patch of moisture in the
center between her legs.  "Who's doing this?  And why?"

   Tribulus took a step forward, closing the gap between them.  "You're
doing it to yourself," he said, placing his hands on her shoulders and
eliciting a shriek.  "As for why"--he swept his hands down, cupping her
insubstantial breasts and framing her glowing heart--"it seems we've found
your heart's desire."

* * * *

   Hermione tried to scream, but Tribulus got to her first, clamping a hand
over her mouth from behind.  Closing the other arm around her chest before
she could escape, he held her fast, screaming muffled cries into his hand
and writhing her small, tight body against his erection.

   "Shh," he said.  "Don't scream.  You'll bring the whole school running.
Do you really want to explain to the headmaster why you're sneaking about
after lights-out?"

   The good sense of that statement slowly sank in.  The girl ceased
fighting, although she was far from relaxed in his grasp.

   Tribulus realized he had one hand clamped over a naked breast, his
fingers in her armpit and a peaked nipple pressing into his palm.  It was
his first time touching a girl her age in that way, and it had happened so.
. .  easily.  He wasn't sure Hermione herself had even noticed.  "Are you
going to behave?" he asked.

   She nodded.

   "No screaming?"

   A shake.

   He took the hand away from her mouth, hovering it there a moment to see
whether she'd break her promise.

   "Why are you holding me?" she demanded, trying vainly to pull her blouse
closed over the hand on her breast.  "And what did you do to my clothes?"

   This would go poorly if he let her call all the shots, so he chose to
answer with a question of his own.  "This is how you picture yourself in
your fantasies, isn't it?  Your true heart's desire?"

   "It is not," she said, testing his grip by trying to wriggle out of it
again.  "Let me go.  You're touching my boobs."

   That wasn't true; he was touching only one--and a lovely one it was,
too. He didn't know what was more exciting, the delicious, tiny pillow of
softness, or the fact he was getting away with it.  Aware that this might
be a once in a lifetime opportunity, he adjusted his grip so that her
nipple was between his fingers.  "First, tell me why you want to dress like
this," he said, stroking the soft breast-flesh underneath with his ring
finger.  "And don't lie.  I shall know if you do." He would, too.  The
empathic link the mirror had established between them was strong.

   The emotions washed off her--shock and surprise at being pawed by a man,
and racing fear as she came to realize that the thick presence pressing
into her body was his cock.  "I saw it in a comic book," she said.  There
was no shame, just a matter-of-fact admission.  "All the girls are pretty
with long, straight hair.  And such big eyes. . ."

   "You mean Anime?"

   She nodded.  "Kawaii."

   Good, she was talking.  Tribulus wanted more from her, but to get a
little, he might first have to give a little.  He released his grip and let
her step away.

   She turned and faced him, defiantly pulling the sheer blouse closed over
her naked breasts.

   "And the short skirt," he prompted, "the high heels. . .?"

   "All the girls in Kawaii Anime dress like"--she glanced down at her own
tiny skirt, barely covering her panties--"well, kind of like this."

   Tribulus thought she might be getting some crossover into Hentai erotica
from her cutesey-girl Anime comics.  He was no stranger to Hentai, where
girls her age teased grown men with their tight little bodies.  The
storylines varied, but the end result didn't--either by force or by choice,
little Hentai temptresses had a habit of getting their legs spread and
their tiny pussies plundered.

   Hermione was still looking down at her own body, this time at the red
glow beating in her chest.  "What did you do to me?"

   "That's your heart beating," Tribulus said.  He took a step toward her,
hand out to touch her chest.  Hermione backed up until she bumped into the
mirror, hugging the translucent blouse tight across her chest.  Taking her
fisted hands in his, Tribulus spread them wide, pulling the blouse open
again and exposing her.  "Do you know what the color signifies?"

   She looked down at the deep red glow, then back up at Tribulus, shaking
her head.

   "It's a spell of my own design." With his own heart pounding, Tribulus
released her hands and took her nipples between his fingers, rolling the
tips, bringing them to stiff peaks.  Once again, incredibly, Hermione let
him.  "The red means you're excited."

   "I'm frightened," she said, "not excited."

   "You can be both." He stroked a finger down her flat tummy and hooked it
into the waist of her skirt.  Would she let him in there?  The red glow
beat faster.  "You're squeezing your legs together," he observed.  "You
feel the heat down there, don't you?"

   She nodded.

   "That's from the excitement." He took her hand and pressed it to the
front of his trousers.  "And this is from mine."

   She squirmed her hand to get away but succeeded only in pawing and
grabbing his cock.  "Change me back," she whined.  "I don't want to be like
this."

   "I wish I could," Tribulus lied.  "But the mirror. . ." He shrugged. 
"It knows what we both want."

   "I want to go back to the dorm."

   "And I want a kiss," Tribulus said.  "For starters, anyway.

   "Never." Hermione set her head defiantly.

   "Never?" he asked.  "That sounds like something Professor McGonagall
would say if I asked how often students should be out after midnight." He
tried to hold her gaze, but her eyes kept darting past him to the infirmary
where Potter lay unconscious.  "Or how often they should be casting spells
at the bedside of other students."

   Her mouth dropped open, and he knew he'd touched a nerve.

   "What exactly was that spell, Hermione?"

   "It was nothing.  It was just--"

   "Oh, well, if it was nothing, that's fine, then.  But just to be
safe"--he took hold of one skinny arm--"let's go check with the good
professor and get her thoughts on--"

   "Wait!  No!" Hermione pleaded, struggling uselessly in his grasp.  She
seemed to have forgotten about her open blouse and was treating Tribulus to
the visual feast of trembling, wobbling girl-flesh as she wrenched to get
free.  "I'll kiss you.  Once.  But then you have to let me go."

   "Are you sure?" he asked.  "Because the professor is a good friend.  She
hired me, in fact.  I know she wouldn't mind if we--"

   "I'm sure.  Let's kiss and be done with it, already."

   Tribulus stopped to regard her.  Compliance.  Perfect.  The haughty
defiance he saw, the trepidation and fear--both were delicious
appetizers--but nothing was so mouth-watering as the excited beat of her
glowing, blood-red heart.

   "One kiss," she said.

   "On the lips," Tribulus countered.  "And no pulling away.  We're done
when I say we're done."

   Hermione huffed.  "Fine."

   "Come over here," he said, picking her up under the arms and carrying
her to a straight-backed wooden chair.

   Standing on the seat brought her up to his face level.  He'd thought her
plain-looking when he'd seen her about the school grounds, but up close, he
could see the handsome feminine beauty struggling to break free.

   "Let's get a better look at you," he said, peeling the blouse back over
her shoulders and down her arms.

   "Hey!" Hermione tried to stop him, but he had it off before she could do
anything about it.

   He shaped his hands up her skinny, flat torso, thumbs plumping her
little breast swells.  She was stunning.  Maybe it was the Loli spell
smoothing down all that unruly hair, or maybe it was the gaping blouse and
tender, almost-formed titties that someday very soon would be in need of a
bra.  Tribulus didn't know why, but for a man who'd never dared touch a
little girl before, he couldn't keep his hands off this one.

   "I thought you wanted to kiss," she said, almost as if issuing a
challenge.

   "I do." He stroked a finger over the red beating glow behind her left
breast.  "There's a lot of things I'd like to do with a girl like you,
though, and I don't like to be rushed."

   "Don't." She took his hands and guided them away from her breasts.  "It
feels funny when you touch me there." She was almost dancing on the spot,
and in that moment, it seemed like Tribulus could feel the heat radiating
from between her legs.

   "I'll have that kiss now," he said, moving his lips close to hers.  She
puckered for him, and he accepted the invitation, closing the distance
until their mouths touched.

   Hers was so small, which of course he should have anticipated, but
didn't.  And so soft.  Everything about her--her lips, her button nose, her
narrow chest cradled in his palms--was perfectly petite and so deliciously
touchable.  He kissed, plucking at her upper lip.  She didn't respond at
first, but then he felt the muscles in her lip take control and kiss back,
taking the tip of his lower lip and pulling it away from his teeth.

   "Oh God," Tribulus murmured into her open mouth, pulling her tight
against his chest, running his hands up and down her naked back.

   Their tongues reached for each other at the same instant, but Tribulus
was the first to make contact--initially with Hermione's lips, then a
moment later finding a warm, welcoming mate.

   Hermione whimpered as he explored her open mouth.  Fear?  Trepidation?
Perhaps, but the way she kissed back, exploring her way into his own mouth,
spoke more of passion.  She was a maelstrom of hormones and conflicted
emotions, too young to understand the ravenous hunger of her changing body.

   Tribulus let his hands wander down over her skirt and then up beneath
the hem, cupping her tiny, panty-clad ass in just his fingers.  She was so
small!

   She reached for his hands, but he grabbed her wrists and pinned them
behind her back in one fist while he delved the other back beneath her
little Loli-schoolgirl skirt.  The lace panties were tight against her ass,
form fitting, lovingly encasing the curve of two succulent pre-teen cheeks
and stretching across the valley between them.

   He delved lower, deeper, following that seam.  Hermione struggled, but
he held her fast, pressing her into his body with the same hand pinning her
wrists behind her.  He felt the heat first, then the wetness.  Her little
twelve-year-old cunt was leaking pussy juices out over her panties. 
Tribulus tickled her there, wiggling a finger between her lips through the
sodden lace.

   Hermione whined and writhed to his exploring touch, pressing her thighs
together and trapping his finger between her now open cunt lips.

   Reality faded out of focus for Tribulus.  He'd long dreamed of getting
his hands on a young girl, and now only a few threads of lace separated him
from his first pre-teen pussy.  First?  Did that mean there'd be a second?
Just in case there wasn't, he vowed to make this one count.

   With both hands busy--one binding her wrists and the other diddling her
virgin seam--Tribulus went exploring with his mouth, abandoning her lips
and kissing down the jawline, first to her throat where he brushed across
her pulsing jugular, then past her collarbone to the skinny plains of her
flat chest.

   "Stop," Hermione moaned.  Her legs were still locked tight around his
exploring fingers, but the rest of her slender body writhed erotically.

   Tribulus nuzzled one breast, inducing a fresh outbreak of goosebumps
that sped across her chest.  The studded flesh rasped against his skin like
the softest sandpaper.  He kissed her left breast over the red glowing
ember of her heart and ran his tongue over the stiffened tip.

   A fresh moan escaped her lips.  The glow beat faster.

   Tribulus pressed an ear to her chest.

   *Bump-ba-da-bump-ba-da-bump.*

   Her arousal--the thudding heart, the soft moans, the spicy musk leaking
from her cunt--it all set Tribulus's own desire to the red line.  He wanted
more.  Not just more of her body but more of her unexplored need.

   Brushing her nipple with his lips, he uttered a new spell, "*Intima
aspectabilis,*" and the pale girl-flesh of her chest faded slowly into
transparency, layer by layer, skin, blood vessels, ribcage, finally
revealing her purple beating heart.

   *Bump-ba-da-bump-ba-da-bump.*

   Tribulus didn't need to hold an ear to her chest this time.  The spell
was multi-sensory--sight and sound--revealing not just the living organ but
amplifying its low-range, thudding rhythm.  He felt its echoes vibrate
through his swollen balls.

   "What *is* that?" Hermione's writhing morphed into struggles.  "What did
you *do* to me?" she demanded, her voice rising to a cry that risked being
heard beyond the infirmary.  She wrenched one hand free from behind her
back and evicted Tribulus's fingers from between her legs.

   Pushing him away, she stared down at her chest, at the naked, beating
organ pumping lifeblood through her veins.  Slowly, her wide-eyed gaze rose
to meet his.

   "You need to change me back," she growled, rediscovering the haughty
defiance and courage he'd sensed earlier.  "Right now!"

* * * *

   "Me?" Tribulus said, lacing his voice with as much astonishment as he
could muster.  "I thought that was you."

   Hermione looked down at her beating heart and laced her fingers over the
top, feeling her chest as though she couldn't quite believe it was still
there.  "Why would I do this to myself?"

   Tribulus threw up his arms.  "How should I know?  The same reason you
made me touch you." Ignoring her shocked look of surprise, he pushed ahead,
"All the kids said you were odd, but I. . ." He raised his palms and
shrugged.  "I guess they were right."

   Stormy defiance clouded her face.  "I did not do this to myself.  And I
did not make you touch me.  I told you to stop, remember?"

   "Your voice told me to stop."

   "And what's that supposed to mean?"

   Tribulus dropped to one knee in front of her and, pointing one finger
like a gun, touched the front of her skirt, right over her pussy.  "The wet
patch I felt under here says different.  See for yourself." Taking her
shoulders, he turned her around so she could look in the mirror. . .  The
Mirror of Erised!

   Hermione gazed into the glass once again.  The magical reflection put a
flower in her hair and made her lips fuller, redder, and her eyes
bigger--just like the cutesy pre-teen heroines of her comic books.  With
trembling fingers, she lifted her skirt.  The mirror didn't need to lie for
this one--the damp lace that Tribulus had tucked deep into her seam was
every bit as real as his aching cock.

   "Those aren't my panties," she said, her voice small and uncertain.  "I
have normal ones."

   "They're the kind you want though, aren't they?" Reaching around her,
Tribulus slipped a finger in each side of the high-cut front panel and ran
them down over her hairless labia, pulling the bunched fabric free from her
slit.  "Do they make you feel pretty?"

   "Yes." She was in the mirror's spell again.

   "They *look* pretty on you," Tribulus said, stroking his fingers across
the lace, tracking the contours of her unexplored vulva.  "So pretty I want
to touch them.  Is that strange?"

   Hermione shook her head, and, as she watched him molest her in the
glass, she even adjusted her stance, placing her feet apart and allowing
his fingers to roam once again into the warm gap between her legs.

   "I like touching you here," he said, circling two fingers over her clit.
"It makes you wet"--he danced them deeper between her legs--"down here."

   With her lips parted and eyes glazed, Hermione dreamily put a hand down
her own panties and began servicing her clit, rolling her fingers back and
forth over the top, just as Tribulus had done through the lace.

   Magic mirror, indeed!  If he'd guessed it would help him feel-up little
girls, he would have hunted it down for his collection long ago.  Squeezing
her tits, touching her pussy--how far would she let him go?

   There was only one way to find out.

   Kneeling behind her, he continued rubbing her panty-clad cunt with one
hand, while with the other, he unzipped and freed his raging hard-on.  She
was so small that even on his knees, his erect dick still lifted the back
of her skirt.

   *Ba-da-bump.  Ba-da-bump.* He watched her naked heart in the mirror. 
Red.  Throbbing.  Its sensual rhythm echoed through his body.  He stroked
his cock to the same tempo, making it bob and touch between her skinny
thighs.

   Abandoning her pussy, Tribulus cradled her chest in both hands, catching
her nipples between middle and index fingers, and slowly, ever so slowly,
he pumped his hips, sliding his dick up the smooth, open gully between her
thighs.

   He was inches from Heaven.

   "Take your panties off, Hermione," he said, trapping her nipples between
his fingers and squeezing the tips.  "I want to give you something."

   "What is it?" she asked dreamily, pausing her clit-diddling to hook her
thumbs into the waistband.

   Oh God, she was really going to do it!  "Your pussy's gotten so wet. 
Does it ache?"

   Hermione shook her head.  "It's tingling." She squeezed her legs
together, making Tribulus gasp as she trapped his cockhead and pressed it
into the hot pocket of her labia.  "And slippery, too," she finished,
rolling her thighs and squirming her slick cunt lips beneath the lace.

   Tribulus stretched upward, pressing his dick into the sodden lace.  "I'm
going to put something inside to make it tingle some more."

   She nodded and pulled the waistband lower, giving him a tantalizing
glimpse of the top of her cleft before her skirt draped in front and hid it
from view.  "Is it medicine?"

   "It's like medicine," he said, mentally fast-forwarding past the
cherry-popping to the sweet moment when he would unload in her tiny box and
spray her womb with jizz.  Leaning close, he kissed the back of her neck
and told her to "Hold on tight to the mirror, honey."

   She held the sides, ready to brace.

   He stroked his hands slowly down her tummy and busied them trying to
unbutton the top of the skirt.  "Try to relax," he said, knowing he was
only seconds away from unveiling her sweet, virgin cunt.  "I'm going to put
my dick inside you."

   "You're what?" Hermione jerked like she'd been hit by a cattle prod and
whirled on him, dislodging his dick from its happy place between her legs.
With her eyes off the mirror, the spell was broken, and she scrambled to
pull up her panties.  "You can't *do* that," she exclaimed, her voice
cracking with the double-time pounding of her heart.  "I'm only twelve."

   *Noooooo!* He was so close.  Summoning as much calm as he could, he told
her, "Twelve is old enough to want it," and ran a finger slowly down her
bare tummy, tucking it into her troublesome skirt.  "I know you want it. 
Don't try and deny it."

   "Not until I'm older," she countered, taking his finger out and tossing
it back at him like an unwanted gift.  "And not from you." Her eyes flicked
momentarily over his shoulder.  "I don't *love* you."

   *(I love you, Harry.)*

   "Potter?" Tribulus looked over his shoulder and through the door to the
shadowy infirmary where the boy lay in his bed, still unconscious.  "You're
in love with Potter."

   "I am not!"

   It was such a typical schoolyard response, Tribulus had to restrain
himself from countering, 'Are too!'

   Hermione's eyes were misting; her lips pressed together into a cold
line. "I don't want to do this anymore," she said, eyeing his erect cock
with trepidation.  "I want you to change me back."

   Tribulus shrugged.  "It's not me--it's the mirror." He was still
kneeling, but he sat back on his heels, his dick painfully hard and
pointing directly at its target.  "It's gotten into both our heads, and it
won't let go until we fulfil our heart's desire."

   Her eyes darted down, then just as quickly returned to his face. 
"What's your heart's desire?"

   "Don't be coy, Hermione.  I told you what I want, and if you give it to
me, everything goes back to normal."

   She looked down at her exposed heart.

   *Ba-da-bump.  Ba-da-bump.*

   "Everything?"

   "Straight back to the way it was," he said.  "And nobody needs to know
you were here."

   Hermione licked her lips and eyed his dick nervously.

   Pumping it in one hand, Tribulus said, "Stop pretending you don't want
it, Hermione.  Take off your skirt."

   She shook her head, eyes not leaving his throbbing shaft.  "Not inside
me," she said.  "You can't put it inside me."

   Negotiations had commenced!  Knowing he'd won, Tribulus reached for her
and ran his hands down her sleek, lithe body, before sliding back up
beneath the skirt to cup her ass.  "Not inside you?"

   She shook her head, but she didn't stop him from stroking again between
her legs.

   "Then let's put on our creative hats," he said.  "See whether we can
come up with something fun."

* * * *

   Tribulus stood up, and Hermione stepped away from his thick, swaying
cock, although her eyes never left it.

   "You go first," he said.

   *Ba-da-bump.  Ba-da-bump.*

   Her heart beat faster, louder, pounding away in response to her
trepidation.  Her hands made a false start toward his dick before
retreating and clasping between her breasts.  With her head lowered, she
raised her eyes to meet his.  "I don't know what to do."

   "Give me your hand." Tribulus held out his own and waited patiently
until she complied, placing her hand palm-up in his.  He took it and moved
it towards his cock, taking half a step closer when she tried to recoil. 
"There," he said, wrapping her soft fingers around the shaft.  "Not so
bad." His dick jerked at the touch, and again she tried to draw away.

   "It's too big," she said, squeezing tight as she tried to make her
fingers touch.  "I can't hold it."

   "You're doing fine." He guided her to grip lower, and with his hand
closed around hers, showed her how to jerk him off.

   Hermione licked her lips.  "Oh. . .  Oh my." She quickly got the hang of
cock wrangling, and in moments, she was taking long, smooth strokes, all
the way from base to tip.

   Tribulus released her and let her do it on her own.  Who knew one tiny
hand around your cock could feel so good?  He opened his pants and let them
fall to the floor, then sent his boxers in the same direction.  "Give me
your other hand," he said, reaching for it by her side.

   She offered it willingly, and he showed her how to cup his balls and
give them a gentle squeeze.

   "Good girl," he said, finger-combing her hair back away from her face.
"You're a natural."

   Her worried expression melted into a smile.  "Am I, really?"

   "You've never done this before?"

   She shook her head, eyes never wavering from the thick bar of flesh
sliding through her hand.

   "I can't tell," he said.  "It feels like a grown-up hand.  That was a
lie.  It felt exactly like a twelve-year-old hand was supposed to--small,
soft, and the perfect amount of oh-so-tentative squeeze.  She was a
natural, though, and so he left her to her labors and finger-stroked her
tiny tits.  Could he push them together?  He tried.  With fingers circling
her ribs, he used the heels of his palms to squeeze the small swells close,
forming a shallow valley down the center.

   Hermione must have sensed his intent--or maybe it was the mirror once
again facilitating that empathic link--and she guided the tip of his cock
into the channel.

   "Oh, Hermione," he whispered, rocking his hips and gliding his shaft
between the softest, youngest tits in creation.  "You gorgeous little
slut." Even a month ago, she probably wouldn't have been developed enough
to do this--that's how fresh she was.

   "What's a slut?" she asked, releasing his cock and taking over the
titty-pressing for him.

   With his hands now free to explore, Tribulus toyed with her peaked
nipples, rolling them, pinching them, but never pausing in the most
ambrosial tit-fucking of his existence.  "A slut is a good girl who knows
when to be bad."

   "I was a slut for Harry and Ron."

   Tribulus smiled, delighted by the innocent misunderstanding.  "I bet you
were."

   "I crept out at night to save them from being expelled."

   "And here you are now," he said, rubbing his cock into the now
precum-slickened valley between her breasts, "creeping out again and being
the perfect little slut for me."

   She smiled.  "Am I really perfect?"

   "Almost," Tribulus said, taking his cock in one hand and holding the
other to the back of her head.  "Open up your mouth for me, and I'll show
you how you can be."

   Hermione's eyes widened.  She sensed immediately what he was suggesting.
"I can't," she said, relaxing her hold on her chest and letting it flatten
again.  "What if it tastes. . .?  Ugh!"

   Tribulus sighed.  Good Lord, the things he was enduring to get into this
girl's panties.  "It won't," he said, spying a bottle of Dragon's Breath, a
liqueur aphrodisiac, on the butler's tray behind the mirror.  He stepped
out of his trousers and retrieved it.  "In fact"--he twisted out the cork
and poured a measure into the empty water glass on his desk--"you won't
taste a thing."

   "What's that?" she asked, eyeing him nervously while he took a sip.

   "Dragon's Breath," Tribulus said, taking a sip and letting the sweet
liqueur burn its way down his throat.  He dipped a finger in the glass and
painted the girl's lips with it.  "One swallow of this and you won't taste
anything until breakfast tomorrow."

   Hermione licked it off and immediately gasped.  "It burns."

   "It does," he said, getting down on his knees.  "But in a good way." In
a minute, the aphrodisiac properties would start doing their job, turning
the whole of her young body into one big erogenous zone, making her more
pliable in both mind *and* body.  Dipping in again with two fingers, this
time he painted her nipples, making them pucker and harden.

   "That feels cold."

   "In a moment, it'll feel hot." Dipping once more, he spooned out a few
drops, and, pulling open her skirt and panties with the other hand,
trickled it down her mound into the shadows of her crevice.

   "Oh my." Hermione shuddered and danced on the spot, squeezing her legs
together.

   Tribulus took another big sip and held it in his mouth, then, cupping
the back of her head in one hand, he kissed her.

   As before, she opened to him and shared the heat of the liqueur as it
flowed from his tongue onto her own.  Hot breath, dragon breath, whistled
from her nose when it trickled down her throat.

   Holding the kiss, Tribulus picked her up in his arms and carried her to
his bed.  The Dragon's Breath wasn't strong magic; it wouldn't make her
want to fuck him, but it would make her enjoy it when he did.

   He laid her on her back, feet in the middle of the bed and head draped
back over the edge.

   "Now," he said, kneeling behind her, guiding his cock with one hand. 
"Open that pretty little mouth, sweetheart."

   "I'm still not sure I-- *Guk!*"

   Tribulus silenced her with a mouthful of dick.  "Shh," he said, cuffing
her wrists with one hand and holding her fast while she struggled in vain
to spit it out.  "Be a good little slut and suck it."

   "Mmm!" She tried to buck free but with her upper body pinned, she could
only kick up her legs, lifting her skirt again and landing it up on her
tummy.

   Tribulus stroked her pussy again through the lace.  "Unless you want me
to turn you around?  There's a lovely little hole down here I'd like to get
to know better."

   She clapped her thighs together, trapping his fingers.  "Mm-mmm!" *No
way.*

   *Ba-da-bump.  Ba-da-bump.*

   He ran his fingers over her transparent chest, the tips trailing just
inches above her galloping heart.  "Then you need to start sucking,
gorgeous.  I get what I want, you get what you want, and we both go home
happy."

   She'd stopped struggling and moved her tongue, allowing his dick to
slide an inch deeper into heavenly warmth.  The Dragon's Breath was doing
its job.

   "That's it," he said, releasing her wrists.  "Suck it tight."

   She sucked.  Not tight, but as the silky warmth enveloped his manhood,
he wasn't sure how much tighter he could tolerate before he blew his load
down her throat.

   "Oh, honey," he said, slowly gliding in and out, "you are *so* good at
this."

   "Mmm?" She perked up at the praise, which she seemed to love almost as
much as having her pussy touched.

   "If I could award points for this, Gryffindor would romp in for the
House Cup." He felt her smiling around her giant mouthful.  "Don't forget
to suck," he said, tickling beneath her chin.

   Hermione sucked, drawing him into the back of her mouth.  The Dragon's
Breath was suppressing her gag reflex; she had a good four inches now,
which was probably an inch more than a girl her size could easily manage.

   Tribulus finished the job he'd started earlier and unfastened her skirt.
She even lifted her bottom and allowed him to pull it down.  "Good girl,"
he said, sliding it down her skinny legs, which she lifted, allowing him to
take it over the white knee-highs and all the way off.  "Such a good girl."
He stroked his hands down her almost naked body, over the panties to her
trim thighs.  Applying a little coercive pressure, he made her understand
he wanted to pull them open, and after a moment's resistance, she let him.

   *Suck-suck.* She'd picked up her action and had him sucked in
tight--tongue, cheeks, palate, all working together in a way that put older
girls to shame.

   Older girls.  The reality came to him like a splash of cold water to the
face--looking down at her unformed breasts, narrow hips, the tiny swell of
her hairless vulva beneath the lace. . .  He had his dick inside a little
girl.

   It was all happening so quickly--a sweet, innocent, virgin
twelve-year-old was sucking his cock.

   'Hermione Granger and the Mirror of Erised'--it was an adventure for the
ages, the kind of Coming-of-Age story every girl should star in.  Because
political correctness be damned--what guy wouldn't want to get into those
sweet little panties?

   Tribulus stroked his cock in and out, slowly fucking her face.  Hermione
moaned around her mouthful, but it was just surprise, no complaint. 
Pumping his hips, gliding through her open lips, he lifted her legs and
rubbed her clit through the panties, all the while telling her what a good
little cocksucker she was.

   "You like me touching you here, don't you?" he asked, snapping her
button back and forth beneath his finger, making her wriggle and moan.  He
delved beneath the waistband and found her steaming, hungry slit.  No hair,
no stubble, just peachy smooth, little-girl cunt lips--his fingers skated
around their smooth perfection like a Disney-on-Ice troupe.

   His middle finger slid into the heavenly valley between them and almost
got sucked down into the wellspring of all that heat and girlish musk. 
God, she was so ripe!  Twelve years old and completely untouched, yet her
tiny pussy craved cock like a fat kid craved Twinkies.  She was too young
to understand--the hungry yearning between her legs was too new--but what a
crime it would be not to show her the joy of having it filled.

   His finger was poised at her entrance, but even with her slurping on his
cock, he couldn't take her.  Not yet.  He had to see her naked, first.

   "Panties off, sweetheart," he said, slipping the fingers of both hands
down the sides and tugging them over her hips.  "Let's see that lovely
little pussy you're so determined to hide.

   Hermione snapped her legs together and, crying out around her deep
mouthful of cock, she reached down with both hands to grab them and fight
them back up over her hips.

   Tribulus's manhood plunged deeper, and his cockhead slid into the tight
pocket at the back of her throat.  His balls swelled and lifted; he was
almost all the way inside and moments away from filling her with spunk.

   "Get. . .  them. . .  off," he growled, abandoning the heavily defended
front in favor of the back, which he got down over her raised bottom
courtesy of her own struggles.

   The battle of the panties!  Her heart was pumping like a steam engine.
Tribulus could see it--130bpm, maybe more.  Through either exhaustion or
acquiescence, Hermione's struggles began weakening and before long, the
battle was won.  Stripped down her kicking legs, they came off with a
whisper, exposing her exquisitely tight, neat slit, glistening
resplendently in its own slick excretions.

   "Oh, sweetheart," Tribulus whispered, spreading her thighs wide.  "It's
beautiful." He bent down to lick it, but in doing so, he penetrated her
throat and the last two inches of uneaten cockmeat slid home into her warm
mouth.

   Hermione gave a muffled cry and shook her head, nuzzling his ball sack
with her button nose and succeeding only in lodging him deeper down her
throat.

   *Don't come!* Tribulus cried in his head.  *Not yet!* It was far too
late, though; his balls had already contracted and felt like they were
filling a reservoir at the base of his cock with sperm.  The next time he
pumped those muscles. . .

   Desperately, he buried his face between Hermione's legs, slurping both
succulent cunt lips into his mouth.  *The musk!* Dear Lord, he'd never
tasted anything like it.  Sweet, youthful, ripe.  He'd imagined the
taste--looking up beneath billowing skirts as young witches flew overhead
on broomsticks, he'd long dreamed of plunging his tongue into that
panty-clad, pillowy softness, but never had expected it to be so. . .

   *Ambrosial!*

   His balls lurched.  His dick flexed.  It was happening!

   Plunging his tongue between Hermione's unexplored labia, he barely
registered the boundary of her tiny opening before his cock exploded and
began gushing cum down her throat.

   "Oh, God yes!" he cried, coming up from her unexplored cunt. 
Electricity rocketed through his nerve endings.  Every muscle contracted at
once as ecstasy clouded his brain.  Losing control of his hips, he bucked
against her, pulling halfway out and fucking her sweet, sweet face like a
surrogate cunt, pumping his cock and filling her gurgling, waiting mouth
with cum.

   Hermione gobbled it down like a champ.  Sucking, swirling her tongue
around his shaft, she guzzled the lot, milking him dry and missing only a
trickle of creamy goodness that escaped her lips and ran down her cheek.

   Exhausted, his head spinning, Tribulus pulled his still-hard dick from
her mouth and sat back on his heels.  "Whoa," he said, shaking his head to
clear it.  "*That* was something." The Dragon's Breath always heightened
the senses and would keep him hard for three or four more rounds, but it
had never delivered a climax *that* apocalyptic.

   That honor belonged to the twelve-year-old on his bed.

   Hermione sat up and swung her legs around to face him, cum plastering
the side of one cheek.  "Is it over?  Am I changed back?" She looked down
at her chest; it was still transparent, still showing her beating heart,
which was showing signs of slowing now after the excitement.  "It's not,"
she said, frowning and shifting her attention to his still-hard cock.  "Why
not?  I did it.  I did what you said."

   Tribulus shook his head sadly.  "It's not me, anymore.  It's you."

   "Me?"

   He opened her legs and cupped her pussy in his fingers.  "It's still
tingling, isn't it?"

   She bit her lip and nodded.

   "Your heart's desire, honey.  I've gotten mine.  Now we need to give you
yours."

* * * * Hermione closed her legs, ejecting his fingers.  "I don't get
it," she said.  "What's my heart's desire?"

   "Lie back," Tribulus said, guiding her with both hands to lay her
longways down the bed, lifting her stockinged legs up onto the covers.

   "You're not going to--"

   "I'm not going to do anything you don't want," he cooed, stroking his
hands over her lovely titties.  "And nothing you're not ready for."

   "You promise?"

   "Cross my heart." Nothing she wasn't ready for, indeed.  She might only
be twelve, but that sweet little hole between her legs was past due for its
first filling.  Tribulus climbed aboard, kneeling over her and straddling
her feet.  Inserting his fingers between her knees, he tried coaxing her
legs open.

   Hermione squeezed them shut.  "What are you doing?"

   Tribulus sighed and took a moment.  He had her naked on his bed, and
she'd already swallowed his cock--no reason he couldn't take this slow. 
"I'm going to make you feel special," he said, changing tack and reaching
again for the bottle of Dragon's Breath.

   Hermione tracked his movements with wide brown eyes.  "Special, how?"

   Her curiosity was piqued.  Excellent.  He trickled a measure of the
liqueur into her bellybutton, making her squirm, causing her heart to thump
harder in her transparent chest.

   Air whistled through her nose.  "Sir?  What are you doing?"

   "Pouring myself a drink." Tribulus bent over her, and with his dick
nestling in the gap between her white knee-highs, he lapped the liqueur
from her navel.

   "That tickles," she giggled, wriggling and inadvertently working his
hard cock between her knees.

   The Dragon's Breath burned its way down his throat, its aphrodisiac
properties making his cock swell even more prodigiously.  Pooling it on her
skin would be enough to effect Hermione as well.  It wasn't just warming
her where it touched; it was readying her child's body, inside and out, for
her first man-sized injection--one she wouldn't otherwise be developed
enough to enjoy.

   Tribulus kissed down over her flat tummy, leaving a damp trail with his
tongue.  He found her mound and licked the fleshy softness.

   "Sir. . ." Hermione gasped.  She grabbed him by the hair and tried to
pull him away, but the effort was half-hearted.

   Oh, she definitely wanted this.

   Further emboldened, he kissed down to the apex of her crease.  With her
legs squeezed tight and her clit so swollen, the flesh at her peak was pink
and engorged, folded into a small letter-Y.  Most of the rest of her slit
was hidden between her legs.  Tribulus played his tongue around, gliding it
up and down that thin line, slipping it between her folds and teasing them
apart.

   "Sir, stop it," Hermione moaned.  "I've changed my mind."

   "Too late," Tribulus mumbled into her pre-pubescent pussy.  "This is the
only way." He thrust his tongue down into her crease, down toward that most
intimate opening she guarded between her legs.

   "I'm not ready!" she cried, wriggling beneath his searching tongue. 
"I'm not old enough!"

   Damn it!  This wasn't going the way he planned.  Tribulus rose up on his
knees and walked his way forward until he straddled her narrow thighs, dick
resting on her puffy mound.  "Stop it!" he growled, silencing her cries. 
He gathered her hands and pinned them back where her shock of brown curls
fanned out in a corona around her face.

   She looked up at him through unblinking eyes.  The only sound breaking
the silence was the runaway train of her exposed heart.

   "*You* crept out at night, Hermione.  You broke into *my* quarters."

   Her eyes looked terrified, but her nipples were stiff, the areolas
puckered with tiny, hard bumps.  "I did it for Harry," she whispered.

   Tribulus breathed an internalized sigh.  He had her talking again. 
"You're just a good girl who knows when to be bad, right?"

   She nodded earnestly, brown curls bouncing on her forehead.

   "You want to be Potter's slut?" He knew she misunderstood the word;
using it on her gave him a strange thrill he couldn't put his finger on.

   "With all my heart."

   "First you need to be *my*slut." He held both her wrists in one hand
and, shuffling back down the bed a little, guided his pulsing cock to her
pussy crease with the other.  "You know how to be a slut for me, don't you,
Hermione?"

   She shook her head urgently.

   He touched his cock to her cunt lips, drawing a line down the middle and
slickening them with precum.  Excitement bubbled up inside his balls,
threatening to make him come all over her smooth mound.

   "It's easy," he said, touching her there again, teasing her lips apart
with his cockhead.  "You just need to open your legs."

   "I can't," she said, shaking her head again.  "I won't.  Defiance shone
in her eyes.  "I'm *waiting*."

   "Waiting?" He pressed his cockhead into the gap where her pussy met her
thighs.

   "For Harry," she whimpered, squeezing her legs together, closing them
tight and spreading her puffy cunt lips like a hotdog bun around her first
cock.

   Tribulus's dick was in pre-teen heaven--not capital-H-heaven (not yet
anyway)--but Hermione's slickened, naked pussy lips, the delectable squeeze
of her thigh-gap, it must surely be the next best thing.  He pulled slowly
out, then slid back into the warm pocket of little-girl flesh, delighting
in the illusion created as his fat cock disappeared between her legs. 
Between his juices and her own, they didn't even need lube.

   "Open them," he coaxed, his voice still soft.  "Potter doesn't need to
know.  I won't tell him."

   "No!" Her breath was coming in gasps.  "You don't understand.  I
*can't*."

   The emphasis on that last word got his attention.  "Can't?  Or won't?"

   A glimmer of hope flickered in her eyes.  "I'll do anything else," she
stammered, rubbing her thighs together, massaging his shaft.  "Like this.
We can keep doing this.  But you can't put it. . ." She lifted her head and
glanced down her body to where Tribulus's cock disappeared between her
thighs.

   "Inside?

   She gave a minute nod.

   *Geez, she must really be hot for that Potter kid's cock.* Tribulus
laughed.  "Is that what you were worried about?"

   She nodded again, her eyes hopeful.

   "Hermione, sweetheart." He plowed his cock slowly into the pillowy soft
haven she'd created for him.  "I told you we wouldn't do anything you're
not ready for, didn't I?"

   She licked her lips.  Nodded.

   "You like *this*, though, don't you?"

   She didn't answer.  She just kept watching him fuck her thigh gap.

   "Don't lie to me, Hermione.  You think I can't feel how hot your pussy's
getting?"

   "I do like it a little," she whispered, eyes never leaving his thrusting
cock.

   "Just a little?" He slid all the way in till their groins met.  His
balls were nestled snug between her thighs and his cockhead touched the
bedcovers beneath her.  "I think maybe you love it."

   A shy smile stole across her face and her eyes flashed quickly up at
his.

   "You do love it, don't you?"

   She bit her lower lip and nodded, relieved it seemed to finally make the
confession.  "It feels. . ." She blinked a few times, searching for a word.
"Special."

   Tribulus pulled his dick out and, in a calculated show of trust,
released her hands.  Sitting back on his heels, he stroked his fingers over
her pussy and along the seam where her thighs met, all the way to the tops
of her long socks.

   "Spread your legs, Hermione.  I'm going to make you feel like the most
special little witch in Hogwarts."

   Hermione lifted her knees until her feet were out from under him, then,
with barely a tremble, she let them fall open and gave Tribulus silent
consent to explore her tiny unclaimed opening.

* * * *

   It took all Tribulus's willpower not to immediately plunge his dick
inside her.  What saved him was the shock--not just the shock of getting a
good eyeful of little-girl pussy, it was the *way* she was showing him.

   She just. . .  exposed herself!  Utterly so.  With the flexibility of a
gymnast (courtesy probably of her pliable twelve-year-old frame) she spread
herself wider than any woman he'd ever seen, skinny thighs forming a
straight line across her body, interrupted only by that luscious smooth
seam in the center.

   He walked closer on his knees, cock bobbing in front like a divining rod
until he was close enough to rest it on her mound.

   "Not inside me," Hermione whispered, barely audible over the runaway
heartbeat pounding in her transparent chest.

   *Bump-ba-da-bump-ba-da-bump.*

   "Not inside," Tribulus agreed.  *Not yet anyway.* He took his cock in
hand and rubbed the tip around her hairless mound, coating it with trails
of precum.

   Propped up on her elbows, Hermione watched with wide eyes.  "You're
getting stuff on me," she said, investigating with one finger and smearing
a glistening line from her mound up towards her belly.

   Tribulus took her knees and pinned them back to her shoulders, raising
her cunt so his cock rested longways down the middle.  "What about the
stuff you're getting on me?" he said, sawing his shaft slowly back and
forth, sliding it all the way forward until his balls nestled against her
unexplored opening.

   "What stuff?"

   He leaned his weight into her, splitting her hairless lips.  The heat of
her core touched him along with (just as he'd hoped) the slick warmth of
her juices.  "Feel that?" he asked, smooshing his cock from side to side
between her lips, coating it in her fresh, virginal musk.

   She nodded.  "It's slippery."

   He used his hand to guide his dick again, bringing the tip first to
touch her clit, which was so engorged it was peeking out from under its
hood, then lower, skating it between her too-tight lips until he found the
soft depression over her virgin opening.

   "You know why it's slippery, don't you?" He leaned forward, pressing his
thick cockhead deeper into her tiny cleft.  He winced and pulled away as a
familiar bolt of pain flared in his balls--an old quidditch injury he'd
sustained from a snapped broomstick.

   "You can't put it inside me," Hermione said, shaking her head.

   "But sweetheart," he said, rubbing where the pain was still dissipating,
"you're so ready." The flare-up had been momentary, certainly nothing that
could dampen his enthusiasm for pre-teen pussy.  "See how wet you are?" He
used a finger to find her hole again, cautiously exploring to discover
whether the Dragon's Breath had done its job of loosening everything down
there.

   He found the heat first, then the delicious wetness--the indescribably
intoxicating spend of a girl too young to even comprehend why her pussy was
getting wet.  He delved between her open lips, looking for her unbroken-

   "Merlin's butt-crack!  What the f--?" Another lancing bolt of pain, this
time in his finger, made him pull it out like she'd bitten him.  "What did
you--?"

   "I told you," Hermione said, placing a hand over her open pussy lips. 
"Not inside me."

   "You cast a fucking dentata spell?" Tribulus sputtered.

   Vagina Dentata was a particularly aggressive form of chastity spell,
usually cast by travelling husbands on their wife's pussy before they went
away to wizarding conferences and the like.  Superior in every way to a
chastity device, it left a woman free to pursue her own self-pleasure,
blocking only the advances of the opposite sex.

   Hermione shook her head.  "Not a dentata."

   "No?"

   Despite his better judgement, Tribulus probed beneath her guarding
fingers and once again found the heavenly softness of her-

   "Agh!  Toad's balls!" It had stung him again, and he pulled his hand
away, shaking off the pain.

   "It's a promissory spell."

   "A promissory?" Tribulus frowned.  He'd heard of them, of course--vows
of fidelity cast on oneself, typically by lovestruck young virgins
promising to be chaste until their wedding night.  In theory, they were
like a dentata, blocking all men except the target of the promise.  Unlike
a dentata, however, they were notoriously fragile and a poor defense for
any girl prone to sudden changes of heart.

   Obviously, this was what she'd been whispering at Potter's bedside. 
She'd probably developed feelings for the kid, and, shaken by his brush
with death. . .  Yeah, it made sense alright.  It also explained the
sneaking out at night; a promissory wasn't something she could have
discreetly cast that afternoon with Potter's well-wishers all loitering at
his bedside.

   "We can do the other thing, though," Hermione said, taking Tribulus's
cock in hand and smooshing it again between her lips.

   He winced and waited for the pain, but it didn't come.

   "I told you," she cooed, her voice taking on a much more seductive tone,
"you just can't put it inside me."

   Tribulus shut his eyes a moment and tried to reconcile the
disappointment.  He reminded himself he'd have been happy earlier just to
get a look inside her blouse.  The fact he now had her not only naked but
rubbing his cock between her sodden cunt lips was nothing short of an
abject bloody miracle.

   And besides, a promissory spell wasn't exactly an *absolute* defense. .
.

   "You're right," he said, stroking his fingers across her breasts,
tracing the line of each subclavian vein from heart to shoulder.  "We can
still have some fun." He took her raised legs and closed them again,
planting her bare feet on his chest and trapping his cock in her thigh gap.
Stroking in and out, using their combined juices for lube, he said, "You've
still got a tight little space I can fuck, right?"

   Hermione took a shuddering breath as his cock once again split her lips
and began sawing across her clit.

   "Squeeze," he said.

   She did, pressing her thighs together, flexing the muscles tight enough
to trap him.

   They both stared at his bulging cockhead, which peeked a couple of
inches out from her clenched pussy lips.

   "Just like riding a broomstick, isn't it?" Tribulus offered.

   Hermione nodded, wide eyes never leaving the cock between her thighs. 
She released enough pressure to allow movement, and he began slowly fucking
her thighs again.

   "Keep it nice and tight," he said when she eased off too far.

   She clenched again, panting and licking her lips.

   "You know why it needs to be tight, don't you?"

   She nodded.  "So it feels like you're inside me."

   "I could put it in, if you want," Tribulus offered.  "Just for a second
so you know what it's like."

   She shook her head--reflectively, it seemed, rather than vehemently. 
Maybe her resolve was weakening.

   "You like getting fucked like this, though, don't you?"

   Another shake.  This one looked even less certain.

   Tribulus shifted his weight so he could cup both breasts.  "You can't
lie to me, Hermione.  I can see your heart, remember." It wasn't beating as
fast as it had earlier, but it was still galloping.

   *Ba-da-bump.  Ba-da-bump.*

   He timed his thrusts to its cadence, slapping his meat into the narrow
gap she'd made for him.  Pinching her nipples, he asked again.  "You do
like getting fucked, don't you?"

   She bit her bottom lip and nodded.  Fresh juices kept flowing from her
slit, smoothing the way for her molestation.

   Tribulus felt the heat building down there and fucked her harder,
slapping his balls against her ass.  "You're a good girl who knows when to
be bad.  You could be Gryffindor's little house slut.  Would you like
that?"

   Hermione nodded.  Her breathing was ragged, but not her heartbeat; it
was a rock-and-roll metronome, thudding away beneath his titty-stroking
thumbs.

   "Do you want the spell reversed?  Say it out loud, Hermione.  Tell the
mirror your heart's desire."

   She pinched her eyes shut and with trembling legs, gripped his cock and
gasped, "I want to be the house slut." She was on the edge of orgasm.  A
few deep sawing thrusts across her clit would send her shuddering over the
edge.

   Tribulus straightened her legs and hugged them to his chest, slender
stockinged ankles bracketing his head.  "That's it," he said, squeezing her
thighs tighter around his shaft.  "It feels good to let it out, doesn't
it?"

   Hermione was in no condition to answer, squirming and coming, writhing
beneath him and rolling his cock like Play-Doh between her thighs.

   It was too much for Tribulus, and he ejaculated too.  How could he not?
The sight of a little twelve-year-old climaxing with his cock hotdogged
between her cunt lips would be enough to send anyone over.  His balls
contracted and sent two spurts--that was all--arcing from her bald mound to
just beneath her breasts.

   He eased her thighs apart and rubbed his cummy cockhead through her lips
as she came down, mindful not to stray too close to her defended opening.

   Hermione's eyes blinked open.  She looked up at Tribulus and seemed
confused for a moment, like she'd forgotten where she was.  "Is it over?"

   "Over?" Tribulus flopped down beside her on the bed, then rolled on his
side and spooned her little body into his.  "Not quite yet," he said,
kissing her neck and rolling a nipple between his fingers.  "You've got a
lot of training ahead if you want to be the house slut."

   He glided his hand down over her tummy, once again seeking that warm
place between her legs, which this time, she opened for him straight away.

   "Good girl," he whispered in her ear, finding her still-wet parting with
one finger.  "I think we'll start with some stretching exercises."

* * * *

   Tribulus was still hard--a condition that probably wouldn't abate for a
few more hours; he hadn't been exactly thrifty with the Dragon's Breath. 
He felt its heat not just in his own groin, but Hermione's was also a
degree or two hotter than normal body temperature.

   Spooning her from behind, he slid his cock back between her legs to
enjoy the cauldron heat still pouring from her young pussy.  "Hermione," he
said, draping an arm over one hip and diddling her clit, "that promissory
spell. . ."

   "Mmm?"

   "Which one did you use?"

   "I only know one.  I found it in the back of an old yearbook."

   "Seriously?"

   "I think. . ."

   "What?"

   "I recognized the handwriting."

   "Oh?"

   She tried to glance back at him over her shoulder.  She seemed uncertain
whether this was information she ought to be sharing.

   "You can tell me," he said, stroking her clit in slow circles.  "I can
keep a secret."

   "I *think* it was Professor McGonigal's.  From when she was a sixth
year. Except she wasn't a professor back then."

   "McGonigal!" Not a professor, no.  But if the rumors were true, she had
been quite the cock-jockey.  Legend had it that the good professor had
offered to suck anyone's dick who caught the golden snitch for Gryffindor
at the inter-house Quidditch Cup.  The story goes that the Gryffindor
seeker did in fact catch the snitch, upon which he swapped it out for a
charmed one, allowing all three chasers and one of the beaters to catch the
thing as well.  Back in the dorm that night, McGonigal had been true to her
word; she got down on her knees, tied her hair back, and got ready to suck
off the whole team one at a time.  She'd scarcely gotten through the first
two before the lads at the back of the queue got impatient and walked
around the other side to help themselves to her pussy.  Overnight, she'd
become the original house slut.

   Whichever promissory spell Hermione had found, it certainly wasn't the
only one.  Tribulus had read at least three himself, all flawed, and all
purportedly from the quill of the good Minerva McGonigal, who'd been trying
to keep her legs together long enough to study for finals.

   She must have succeeded in the end.  But was the one Hermione had found
the success or one of the many failures?

   Bracing himself for another shock, Tribulus cautiously explored once
again between her pussy lips, following her slick, flowing juices back to
the font.  He found the soft depression that marked her opening and stroked
hesitantly through the heat.

   No pain.

   Had he explored deeper last time when he'd been stung?  He couldn't
remember.

   "Sir?"

   "What, Hermione?" Warmth enveloped his fingertip.  He wasn't consciously
trying to penetrate her; it was like her pussy was sucking him in.

   "What are you doing?"

   *I'll be doing you in just a minute.* His finger slid deeper--deep
enough to feel the sucking squeeze of her entrance.  He smiled widely. 
Promissory spells, God bless 'em--they were supposed to be about waiting
but had all the patience of a schnauzer in a sausage factory.  Hermione
must have been horny when she'd cast it because that was the condition the
spell had locked onto.  Promissories cast in the heat of passion had a
tendency to dissolve the moment you came.

   "Sir!" She snapped her legs closed and tried to wriggle off his probing
finger, which was now very nearly more in than out.  "What are you doing?"

   "Finishing what you started," Tribulus grunted, rolling on top and
swinging a leg over her hips."

   "Stop it!" she cried, struggling beneath his weight, powerless to stop
him grabbing both hands and pinning them behind her head.  She stared up at
him defiantly, lips parted, chest heaving.

   *Bump-ba-da-bump-ba-da-bump.*

   Holding her wrists with one hand, Tribulus pressed the other over her
racing heart.  It was so fast the beats ran into one another.  160 bpm?  It
had to be at least that.

   "Open your legs, Hermione.  I've got a surprise for you." He lifted his
weight off her, giving her room to comply.

   "No!" Defiance glowed like a feral light in her eyes.

   "I'm done playing," he growled.  "Open them or I'll do it for you."

   "You'd better not," she said with a pout, almost but not quite masking
the fear with haughtiness.  "I just cast another spell.  This time it'll
bite your thing off."

   "Ten-point penalty to Gryffindor for lying," he said, pushing a knee
between her thighs and forcing them apart.  She squealed and struggled to
stop him, but he was too strong and in a moment was lying between her open
legs, pinning her tiny, wriggling body to the bed.  He pressed his cock
against her still-sopping cunt, using her own movements to hotdog it once
again between her soft folds.  "You know how we punish liars at Hogwarts,
don't you, Hermione?"

   "I'm not lying," she blurted, shaking her head hard enough to make her
dark curls fly.  "I promise I'm not."

   "It's a lot more fun than spanking, let me assure you.  Now hold still."
Using his free hand, he guided his cockhead to her entrance.  "Are you
ready?"

   She shook her head vehemently, wind whistling through her nostrils.

   "Don't be like that, sweetheart," he said, finding her wet opening and
pressing the tip inside.  "This is going to feel good.  I promise."

   "Let me go!" She whipped her hips left and right, but Tribulus's cock
just danced along to her movements.  "I'll tell Professor Dumbledore."

   "Another lie!  You're a very bad girl." Tribulus pushed, mashing his
cockhead into the shape of her unbroken hole.  "You'd tell him what,
exactly?  That you snuck into my quarters?  That you pulled down your
panties to tempt me?"

   "*You* pulled them down!"

   "Shhh!" Tribulus froze, his cockhead lodged in her opening.  "Listen,"
he hissed.

   Wide eyed beneath him, Hermione stopped and listened.

   *Bump-ba-da-bump-ba-da-bump.*

   "I don't hear anything," she whispered.

   "I thought I heard. . ." He moved further up her body, lining up his
cock for a straight run, then with a gentle thrust, he split her cherry and
pushed slowly into her soft, wet center.

   Arching up off the bed, Hermione squealed and groaned all at once--an
erotic exhalation to mark the passing of her virginity.  Her pussy muscles
rippled down his shaft as, even with the help of the Dragon's Breath, her
child-sized hole struggled to contain its first man-meat.

   Tribulus put a finger to her lips as she drew her breath to scream, and
with a hastily muttered "Petrificus Totalus", froze her on the spot.

   Hermione stared up at him, the fear and apprehension in her eyes
undiluted by the spell.

   "No screaming, now," he said, his cock lodged four inches deep in the
most heavenly embrace he'd ever imagined.

   The girl blinked.  That was all she was capable of.

   "I'm already inside, so there's no point.  You might as well just get
comfortable and enjoy it." Releasing her wrists, he reached down and tented
her legs, opening the angle to her young pussy.  "There, that feels better,
doesn't it?" He began moving inside her with languid strokes, withdrawing
all the way to the tip then sinking slowly back into the warmth.  "Do you
like it deep, or just the tip?" He gave it to her both ways, teasing her
opening and dancing his cockhead over her clit before sinking back into her
clinging sheath.  "Not gonna lie," he went on, not expecting an answer
while she was frozen, "with a pussy as tight as yours, nothing beats deep."
He increased the pace, fucking her deeper and panting with the effort; even
with the elasticating effect of the Dragon's Breath, there was no getting
past the fact he had his dick inside a twelve-year-old.  A pussy that small
would need a lot of training before it could take his full length.

   He lowered his body onto her, taking his weight on his elbows and
getting his hands beneath her small body, cradling her by the back and
buttocks so she floated an inch above the covers, positioning her for the
perfect angle of penetration.

   "Oh, sweetheart," he whispered, guiding her whole body, gliding her up
and down his length like a girl-sized fleshlight.  "Squeeze your pussy for
me.  Wrap your legs around my back."

   She didn't respond, of course.  He'd forgotten he still had her frozen.

   "I'm going to release you, but don't forget who's in charge." Arching to
bring their faces close, he brought his lips to hers, withdrawing all but
his knob from its succulent new home.  Then, with a whispered releasing
spell, he kissed her and sank deep again into her girlish warmth.

   Hermione moaned beneath him with little sign of her earlier discomfort.
She arched and writhed, pinned like a bug on a corkboard with his fat cock
piercing her body.

   "Lift your legs," he told her, noticing they'd dropped back down to the
bed, making it harder to get deep in her cunt.

   She lifted them and crossed her heels behind him.

   "That's a good girl.  Now pull me in."

   She tightened her grip, knee-high socks whispering against his hips as
she pulled him deeper.

   "*Very* good girl," he cooed as fresh warmth enveloped the lower reaches
of his shaft.  "You love getting some dick in your slutty little pussy,
don't you?"

   "No." The whisper in his ear was barely audible over her racing heart.

   "No?" Merlin's ghost, she was so wet--imagine if she was actually into
it!  "I'll tell you what," he said, taking her up on what was surely a
game, "you know how you came earlier--that tingly feeling?  Do it again
while I'm inside you and we're done.  I'll change you back and let you go."

   "You won't.  You promised you would before and didn't."

   "Because you weren't putting out." Tribulus kept delivering the long,
deep strokes.  "You should thank me.  I'm teaching you how to get what you
want."

   "And how do I do that?"

   "Just keep spreading those skinny legs, sweetheart.  You live with a
hundred teenaged boys--you'll never have to wash another dish or make a bed
again."

   "I don't want that.  I don't want you inside me.  I want to go back to
my--"

   "And I don't want to listen to your whining," Tribulus snapped.  He
pulled out, flipped her over on the bed, and, kneeling above her, searched
between her legs with his cockhead until he found her sodden hole and
plunged back inside.  It wasn't the perfect angle, but he made the most of
it and began fucking her hard, burying his meat in her tiny hole and
slapping his groin into her ass.

   Hermione cried out into the bedcovers, the groans forced out by the
pounding pressure of Tribulus drilling her into the mattress.

   "Here's what's going to happen," he grunted, reaching for the Dragon's
Breath and taking a swig from the neck.  "You're going to take it, and
you're going to enjoy it."

   "I won't!"

   "And I'm going to fill you so full of cum it runs out your nose." He
drizzled some of the Dragon's Breath down her butt crack, making her squeal
again into the bedcovers and thrash beneath him.

   Tribulus lifted her onto all-fours and with the improved angle, started
fucking her deeper, drilling her hard with as much dick as he could fit in
her tiny box--enough to feel his swinging balls brush her rudely parted
labia.

   His earlier spell had made her entire chest translucent, front and back,
so even from behind he could see and hear her heart pounding behind her
spine, pumping lifeblood through her lungs and thence throughout her lithe,
girlish body.

   Tracing a thumb down her butt crack, he found her rear hole and pressed
inside.  The Dragon's Breath had done its job, and Hermione, instead of
screaming, dropped her shoulders to the mattress and melted into an erotic
moan.

   "That's better," he enthused, twisting the thumb inside her, feeling
through the thin walls for his own cock pounding her young cunt.

   Her reluctance now a thing of the past, Hermione began seeking her own
release with renewed fervor, backing onto his cock and meeting his every
thrust, simultaneously moaning and crying out as his knob mashed the
opening to her womb.  She wasn't saying it with words, but every movement
screamed "Fuck me!"

   Tribulus removed his thumb and went after her ass with two fingers
instead, driving her to ever wilder, wordless exhortations of lust.  Dear
God, he'd never been with any woman who loved cock this much, and the mere
thought a girl her age could need it so bad. . .  He pounded her holes in
succession, fingers and cock, one out, the other in.  And she *loved* it,
moaning and writhing and squeezing him with newly discovered cunt muscles.

   Had he thought of this as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?  Screw that;
he was going to be boning this little slut for the next five years--or if
not her, one of the many, many tween witches discovering the joys of their
first broomstick between their legs.  Hey, it wasn't like he'd be the first
guy to tap the limitless supply of fresh young virgins in a boarding
school.

   His balls ached for release, and without warning, the familiar tingle of
impending climax was bearing down upon him.  He pulled out, his jerking
dick coated in pre-teen musk, barely controlling the urge to spray over
her. A gob of cum leaked out the end and dropped between her cheeks.  He
pulled his fingers out of her ass to let it run into the yawning hole,
where he rubbed it around and pushed it into her.

   Grasping his dick in one fist, he gazed down upon her gaping holes, both
begging to be filled with cum.  It was a shame he couldn't-

   *But I could. . .!* Yes, perhaps he could, but he mustn't.  She was far
too small to take two-

   "*Phallus dualis.*" He muttered the incantation almost without thinking.
It was one he'd used before, although only for his own pleasure--never with
a partner.

   His cock rumbled.  It was like an earthquake beneath the skin, then a
hard protuberance began growing where his cock met his ballsack.  His cock
was branching--the original still clutched in one fist with the new one
growing beneath it, bigger and angrier but every bit as hard.

   When it was grown--fully two inches longer than his regulation-length
member and as thick as a broomstick--he fisted both and fed the longer,
fatter one slowly into Hermione's wet, silken hole.

   "It's bigger!" she gasped.  "Why is it bigger?"

   "Why, it must be magic, my dear." Tribulus pumped the tip in and out,
slowly stretching her to accommodate the enhanced girth while his other
cock bobbed above, touching between her ass cheeks.

   "It's too big," she gasped.  "It won't all fit."

   "Oh sweetheart, you don't know what full is." *But you will.*

   With the longer cock lodged two inches deep in her cunt, Tribulus lined
up the other at her gaping asshole.  The shaft still glistened with her
juices, and a steady stream of pre-cum wept from the end, which he guided
around the opening until he had her good and slick.

   "Ready to ride the two-headed dragon?" he asked, plugging the entrance
with his cockhead and forcibly feeding another inch of broomstick-sized
dick into her clenching pussy.

   Hermione moaned at the fresh new penetration, pushing back onto both
dicks.  It might have been the aphrodisiac effect of the Dragon's Breath or
maybe she was just an ass girl.  It hardly mattered.  What did matter was
that she was fast developing a taste for cock and Tribulus had plenty to
feed her.

   "That's it, sweetheart," he said, releasing her hips and letting her
find her own rhythm, rocking on her knees, pushing more and more cockmeat
into her hungry holes.  He stroked her skinny back and reached around to
cup her tiny, wobbling titties.  The outline of his hands showed through
her transparent chest, and pinching her nipples, it was as though he held
her beating heart in his fingers.

   She was exquisite--an innocent pre-pubescent tween just an hour ago,
never even said the word 'cock' much less sucked one--now a verified
double-penetrating cum-slut.  She had a good six inches of dick in her
pussy and another four at least in her asshole.  And she was pushing back
for more!

   Far be it from Tribulus to deny her.  Taking her by the skinny hips, he
started giving it to her, pushing both cocks deep into her tiny holes.

   Hermione went wild, bucking, thrashing, moaning in ecstasy.  She might
have bucked herself off, but Tribulus was too deep and she was too
tight--he probably could have stood up and walked her around the corridors
of Hogwarts dangling from his twin dicks.

   Twice the cock buried in the same amount of soft, twelve-year-old
girl-flesh meant twice the stimulation, and it wasn't long before Tribulus
was racing once again towards climax.  He paused to regain control,
completely buried in her ass and all but the last inch of the massive
broomstick-dick throbbing in the velvet vice of her clenching pre-teen
pussy.  He might have made it if she'd stopped too.  Maybe.  But she was
out of control--like the runaway beat of her heart.

   *Bump-ba-da-bump-ba-da-bump.*

   Thrusting beneath him, grunting, moaning, skinny arms reaching back to
pull him in by the hips--she had more cock in her tiny body than a girl her
age could possibly take, but she seemed determined to take the lot.

   Tribulus's balls lurched.  Sperm flooded his vas, ready for him to pump
it into the little girl.  Pivoting from the hips, he mashed his bigger cock
deep and felt her cervix soften and quake inside her.

   Oh God, it was her womb opening to receive him.

   Hermione squealed and, trembling all over as his massive cock slid into
its rightful home, began to come.

   As her tiny cunt muscles rippled down his girth, Tribulus erupted inside
her like Vesuvius--great, hot blasts of cum pumped through his shaft,
working against the vice-like squeeze of her pre-teen purse, and jetted
from the tip straight into her innermost core.

   The other cock jerked a moment later and Tribulus watched her thudding
heart as he hosed jizz into her waiting ass, both cocks now throbbing and
bucking, unloading what felt like a pint of cum into the wanton body of the
little girl in knee-high socks in front of him.

   Hermione's legs had gone to Jell-O in the onslaught, and she moaned
through her own climax, trembling with her skinny hind quarters impaled and
suspended two inches above the mattress.

   When his balls were finally evacuated and the last dry pumps abated,
Tribulus pulled both cocks out, struggling against the friction.  They
began to wilt and as the magic wore off, the second cock receded.

   Hermione fell flat beneath him.  The sound of her heartbeat faded, and
her chest resumed its usual pale hue.

   "Now *that* was your true heart's desire," Tribulus said, climbing off
the bed and using her blouse to wipe their combined juices from his cock.

   Hermione rolled over, looked up at him, and closed her legs when she saw
him gaze at her yawning pussy.  He'd finished so deep inside her, she
wasn't even leaking.  Maybe later when she was walking back to the dorm.

   "Sir--?"

   "You may go," he said, anticipating the question.

   The magical Loli aura was gone.  She gathered up her clothes, which had
all reverted to regulation school uniform, and when dressed, she was just a
frizzy haired twelve-year-old with cum stains on her blouse.

   Tribulus walked her through the infirmary, past Potter's bed and to the
door.  "You're not saving yourself for him anymore, are you?"

   Hermione smiled shyly.  "Actually, I've got somebody else in mind.  I
keep catching him staring at my butt when I bend over."

   "The ginger kid?" Tribulus enquired, nodding.  "Definitely an ass man.
But don't limit yourself to one.  It's been a few years since Gryffindor
had a house slut.  You're going to be very popular when they find out."

   She frowned up at him.  "What if I don't want to be the house slut?"

   "Oh, sweetheart." Tribulus put a hand on her shoulder.  "The Mirror of
Erised is a lot of things, but it's no liar.  When you're lying in bed
tomorrow night and you feel that tingling again between your legs, that'll
be the mirror calling you."

   Wrinkling her nose, she said, "I don't think I'm ready to do it with
*all*the boys.  Not together.  I could come back here though, couldn't I?
You know, to practice."

   "I look forward to it," Tribulus said.  "I might even bring a friend."

   Hermione grinned widely, turned, and skipped off down the corridor,
skirt flapping behind her.

   Tribulus smiled.  *I might even bring a friend.* He might bring a few. A
little whore like her had three hungry holes and energy to burn.  When he
was finished training her, she'd be ready to take the whole Quidditch team
at once--winners *and* losers.

   Now *that* was a Hogwarts adventure he could look forward to.

* * * *

fygero@protonmail.com (2021-22)

Want to hear about new stories as they come out?  Drop me a line and
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Got a pre-teen fantasy of your own?  I know she's small and cute, and
never been so much as touched.  But is she seductive or reluctant?  Curious
or needing encouragement?  Let's make her first time into a hot new story.
Some of my best works have come from commissions--why not make yours next?