A/N: Here is a long one-shot for those that like my more dark fics. If you like it, you have my friend stephalopoisO9 to thank. Over a year ago, she requested me to come up with some sort of fic that paired Hermione and one of the lesser known Slytherin boys. It seemed like a great idea and a good prompt, but I never got around to it - until very recently. Enjoy the shameless smut and (in my opinion) clever twists!
The Doubts of Decree 243
Hermione had always tried to imagine a world where she would finally have peace and tranquility back in her life. Once the Dark Lord was no longer a threat to Hermione and those she loved, she thought she would be able to experience a normal wizarding life - something she had never experienced once she reached Hogwarts and became best friends with Harry Potter.
Hermione was sitting in the Burrow. She was surrounded by those that she had considered her best friends and family. All walks of life from the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore's Army were present. They had just finished a joint funeral for all their beloved fallen. Tonks and Lupin, Fred and Lavender, were all buried together. A ceremony was held for Moody as well, because no one had had the opportunity to give him a proper goodbye.
The conclusion of the Battle of Hogwarts was less than a week old. It would take all summer for the school to be repaired, it would take years for families to heal from the scars that Voldemort's regime left behind, but one thing that was immediate was the installment of a new government. Irene Caine was voted in as the new Minister of Magic. Her first initiative as head of state was to perform a nationwide census.
The first week following the great battle, Hermione remained at the Burrow, but once all the necessary cleanup that was required had been tended to, Hermione returned back to her parents' home just outside of London. The first thing she did once the shock of the end of the Dark Lord had passed was send word to the Australian Ministry of Magic. It took the Aussies no time at all to track down Hermione's parents, right their memories, and get them on their way back home.
Hermione descended the stairs from the upper floor and almost tripped on Crookshanks as she sleepily made her way to the kitchen. She walked into the room and everything was right. Hermione's mother was pouring herself a cup of coffee as her father was hunched over a bowl of cereal trying to catch the latest Muggle news from the tiny television in the kitchen. Hermione mimicked her mother and poured herself a cup of coffee before joining her father in front of the TV. For the briefest moment, Hermione felt like a normal eighteen year old.
A tap on glass met the Granger family. All three of them turned to the direction of the window that lay just above the sink. Standing on the flower box hanging from the ledge was a magnificent barn owl. In its beak was an important looking envelope.
"A bit early for post, no?" Hermione's mother asked her.
"Who knows," Hermione said rising to her feet to receive the letter.
The teenager opened the window and the owl hopped into the kitchen importantly. The creature fluttered to the middle of the room which happened to fall right in between Mr. Granger and the television set.
"Well, don't you think you're the tops?" The man asked the owl, "Hermione, it's another letter from the Ministry."
Hermione had been receiving letters from the newly established government. Thanks for her services, requests to receive high standing medals, offers of employment had all been part of the almost constant influx of postage from the magical government.
Mr. Granger took the letter from the owl and he reached out with it in the direction of his daughter, before shooing the creature away from his line of sight.
Hermione gently tore the envelope opened. She read it, and then she read it again.
"I'm being requested to take an exam at the Ministry," she announced to her parents.
"Well, it's probably some sort of aptitude test to see how you'd fair working for the government," Mrs. Granger said hopefully. It was difficult for Mr. and Mrs. Granger to get a full appreciation for the world that their daughter had been born into, but much like Hermione's Outstandings and incredible school record, a job for the government was something that both the dentists could understand.
Hermione dismissed the idea and couldn't be bothered by her mother's words. She had just helped overthrow the most evil wizard in British history, if not world history. The last thing on Hermione's mind was taking a job for the Ministry. How could she focus on the future? She was just beginning to enjoy the present. She made a note of the date that she was expected in London and pushed it from her mind.
Four days later, Hermione dressed appropriately for an appointment at the Ministry. She would've lied if she said her mother hadn't helped her pick her clothes, but she would've worn the same outfit regardless. She wore a skirt that was appropriate to head to an official's office, but light enough for the summer heat and a nice top that she magically removed the wrinkles from.
The letter told Hermione to check-in at the Ministry of Magic Department of F & F when she arrived. So she did that. Once in the lobby of the Ministry, Hermione was going to ask which way to head, but there were signs that made it impossible to miss where she was headed. Silently, she crossed the entryway, took the elevators to the correct floor and down a secluded hallway.
Hermione pushed open a door that had gold letters engraved on it F & F. These letters looked freshly painted - they couldn't be more than a week or two old. That wouldn't be strange except for the fact that Hermione knew that most of the doors marked with the same paint appeared to be decades old, if not older. Most doors seriously needed a new paint job, why was this department so special?
Hermione entered and wanted to ask the attendant what this new office was, but when she got to the counter, there was no attendant. There was only a sign-in sheet. Hermione found where her name was printed down by a typewriter. She signed in the box next to the typed text of her name.
She was noticeably early for her eleven o'clock meeting, so she took a seat. For the first time, she saw how many people were also meeting for appointments. The witches and wizards ranged from all ages, most of them weren't even at the Battle of Hogwarts. Clearly this wasn't some sort of ceremony to celebrate Hermione's brilliance in the uprising against Voldemort.
"You're Hermione Granger," a middle-aged witch said leaning across the small space that separated the two of them.
"Yes, I am," Hermione had been asked that question plenty of times recently, but never in a waiting room.
"Wow, okay," the witch said. She appeared to be blown away to be in the same room as the, now, famous Hermione Granger.
More and more people trickled into the room. They signed the piece of paper at the desk and took seats. It was strange how no one spoke. No one was told that they couldn't speak, but it seemed like an unwritten rule that everyone would remain silent.
At five minutes until eleven a door that Hermione hadn't even noticed opened. A crowd as large as the crowd that was sitting in the waiting room filed out silently. Everyone exited out of the first door and then silently exited out of the waiting room.
The hidden door closed for five minutes, and at precisely the right moment it opened and an unseen PA system spoke, "Anyone requested for the eleven o'clock session please step in."
With the door magically swung opened. Hermione stood just like the rest of the witches and wizards. All of them filed into the second room one-by-one.
There was a lone proctor at the front of the room, "Please take the first available seat," he asked.
In an orderly fashion, everyone was seated. They were at desks with quills and a small booklet that lay facedown on their desk.
"Without any delay, please turn your examinations over and answer them to the best of your ability. You have fifty minutes. Good luck. The fate of our kind rests in your hands," the proctor explained before sitting down in a chair.
It took everyone one moment to register what he was saying.
Odd. Hermione thought to herself, but in all honesty, taking examinations was her happy place. Even without preparing, she was comfortable.
The young Gryffindor took thirty minutes to complete her examination. With a triumphant drop of her quill, she closed her examination booklet. She raised her hand. She wanted to know if she could leave.
"No questions," the proctor said without picking his eyes up from the Daily Prophet that he was reading.
Hermione sat quietly for the remaining twenty minutes while everyone else scribbled down answers. For something to do, she picked up her booklet and reread her answers.
"Time," the wizard at the front of the room announced, he waved his wand and all the tests flew in his direction. With another flick of his wrist, laminated sheets of paper flew to the former test takers, "Please read these to understand why you just took these examinations. You have two minutes."
On behalf of the English Ministry of Magic, we thank you. Societal Decree number 243 has brought together Witches and Wizards from all over the nation for a preliminary screening of intelligence.
Hermione beamed proudly as she kept reading. As she continued to read, her feeling of pride drained from her veins.
The latest national survey has brought to light that the wizarding population is at 30% of anticipated projections.
Hermione's jaw dropped. In Hogwarts: A History - which was printed a little out of date, had an estimate of roughly 3,000 witches and wizards living in Britain. If those were the numbers that the Ministry was basing this information on, there were only 900 people that possessed magical powers in the whole country.
The Ministry's Department of Families and Fertility has chosen you as members of its newest initiative "The Fruits of Our Labor". More information can be found in brochures as you leave the examination hall.
Head of the Department of Families and Fertility
The signature at the bottom of the script that Hermione was reading was poorly embossed.
Hermione was the first to finish reading and she looked on indignantly at the front of the room at the wizard that was supposed to be the proctor. Again, she rose her hand as others in the room were finishing reading with gasps of disbelief.
A bell dinged once, "That is the end of our time. Please exit quietly. No questions."
Hermione remained seated as the rest of the room stood as one. She kept her hand raised in the air.
"Please leave my room," the proctor said without looking up from his copy of The Daily Prophet.
Hermione folded her arms, stood up and left. She crossed through the waiting room and didn't mutter a word. As she left the room, she found one of the brochures that had been mentioned to her. She angrily grabbed at one and stormed out the room.
Once back at her parents' home, Hermione didn't stop to chat with them. She retreated to her bedroom and took out the pamphlet that she had taken from the Ministry. She sat down on the floor of her bedroom and started committing every detail of information to memory.
The gist of what she was reading was known to her. Magic, like any gene, was an inherited trait. The occurrence of witches and wizards marrying Muggles over the past several decades was much more common. This was never seen as an issue to the magical way of life - as a matter of fact it was seen as a progressive movement, but unbeknownst to the greater magical community, the magical population was dwindling as less and less of the population was transferring on the magical gene.
In an attempt to stabilize the magical population of Britain, the Department of Families and Fertility passed Societal Decree 243. The general idea was to bring together two people that possessed the recessive magical gene and effectively breed them to ensure the best chances to produce magical offspring. Just like any aging society, the older wizarding population feared what would happen if there were no younger, youthful wizards to fill in to preserve the magical way of life, but also stimulate the magical economy.
The aptitude test that Hermione had just completed was to evaluate if she was a top candidate for Societal Decree 243 as well as to pair her up with a compatible male counterpart. The Ministry's thinking was that two highly intelligent wizarding parents would produce high-performing magical children. The science and logic were there, but Hermione was appalled at how all emotion had been taken out of the situation.
How could the Ministry pass such an edict? It was possible that difficult times called for difficult decisions, but effectively asking the population to breed seemed out of the question. Hermione had just spent the last seven years fighting for a world that gave her freedom. She was fighting to preserve her heritage and live her life the way that she wanted to live it proudly. She never thought that this would be a reality - not with Voldemort now gone.
Two weeks went by - two very long weeks. Hermione had decided to tell her parents what had happened at the Ministry. If she were to be selected by the Department of Families and Fertility, it would be impossible for her to hide the fact that she was pregnant from her parents for long. She also talked to Ron and Harry about it. That was the most difficult conversation that Hermione had had with either of the boys. It was a real-world conversation that she never would've imagined she would suffer through.
"Well, who knows?" Ron suggested one night that he came to visit Hermione at her parents' home, "There's a chance that we get matched together, and that wouldn't be so bad."
"Yeah, that's true," Hermione didn't sound convinced. She knew that she liked Ron, and they had shared their first kiss back during the Battle of Hogwarts, and there were several more since then, but she knew that as far as intelligence went, she was in a completely different league than Ron. The odds that they were placed in the same bucket of IQ performance was slim.
At the end of the two week period, Hermione descended the stairs to a somber kitchen. That was par for the course those days. No one in the Granger household wanted to address the elephant in the room. Everyone had had such high hopes and aspirations for Hermione. Possibly a career in government - maybe Minister for Magic one day, a job in the Auror office perhaps, or even a full-time position at Hogwarts. Hermione had never known what she wanted to do, but if she was to become a mother in the next year, all those dreams may have to go on hold.
Hermione entered the kitchen and witnessed both her parents already sitting at a table. An envelope that was all too familiar-looking rested on the surface in front of the two dentists.
Like an inmate heading to Death Row, Hermione approached the document and opened it.
We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected as a top candidate for Societal Decree 243. Out of everyone surveyed in the entire country you have scored 8th highest.
Hermione couldn't help but beam at the fact that she was the eighth most intelligent witch or wizard in Britain.
This means that your registration number will be 8. This number is very important. You have been matched with registration number 12. We request your audience at the Ministry on August 4th at 8PM. We look forward to seeing you and appreciate your cooperation in the preservation of our magical way of life.
Head of the Department of Families and Fertility
There it was, Hermione's fate was sealed. Hermione finished reading the paper, put it on top of the envelope and pushed away from the table. Hermione's parents tried to look at their daughter for some sort of indication of what she read. Hermione stood up and as she did so, her parents grabbed at the paper greedily and read. As Hermione exited the room, she heard her mother give off an audible sob.
Hermione was a logical human. Her entire life, logic has dominated her emotions. She attributed that as one of her greatest strengths. Without her dominating logical brain, she knew that there never would've been an end to the Dark Lord, but for the first time in her life, she couldn't get over how unfair this all was. Logically, Hermione could maybe, almost see a justifiable reason to Societal Decree 243, but she was furious with the Ministry. Too furious to even attempt to try to see the logic behind the decision, let alone agree with it.
It took her weeks to convince herself that it was her duty to the magical world to go through with her appointment, but it just proved so difficult.
August 4th arrived. Hermione's parents didn't know how to proceed with the day. They wanted to be supportive of their daughter, but how does one stand by while their child is sent off to be used as a breeding cow? Somewhat thankfully, Hermione just wanted to spend the day by herself away from human interaction - at least, until she was forced into it by the Ministry.
An hour before her appointment, Hermione found all the courage that she could muster and departed her parents' home without a word. It took her all day to convince herself to walk out that door. The slightest derailment may have kept her from heading to the Ministry.
Hermione approached the Tube station and paid her fare. She sat down and tried to reflect internally. She tried to create a list of everything she needed to do. It kept her focused.
Get on the Tube to London. Get off at my station. Head to the Ministry. Enter through the visitors entrance. Go to the Department of Families and Fertility. Meet number 12. Make a baby.
It wasn't difficult, Hermione sighed to herself. She continued going through those steps over and over in her head. She was so focused on repeating what she needed to do, she almost forgot to get off at the correct station. She quickly jumped to her feet and exited out of the sliding doors. As she took the escalator up to the street level, Hermione lost all of her Gryffindors courage. As she was going up the escalator, the opposite moving staircase that was heading down hosted a mother that looked too young. This other young woman was trying to juggle two small children by herself as they made their way into the Tube station.
"I can't do this," Hermione said aloud, "I refuse."
Hermione was supposed to get to the street level and turn left toward the visitors' entrance of the Ministry. Instead, she went right and made her way to a semi-secluded doorway.
Hermione pushed the door of the Leaky Cauldron opened. It wasn't busy considering it was early evening on a Monday. Hermione went up to the bar and ordered a butterbeer. Once she paid the two Sickles, she took the frothing mug to a secluded corner booth where she was away from the eyes of everyone else in the bar.
Hermione finished one drink, then two, then three. She looked down at her watch. 7:57 is what the timepiece said. Even if she sprinted, she wouldn't make it to the Ministry. It was decided - Hermione Granger was opting out of Societal Decree 243.
"Sorry number 12," Hermione said raising her glass to cheers the imaginary wizard that would be waiting at the Department of Families and Fertility without a match, "Number 8 doesn't feel like showing up." Hermione finished her third butterbeer with one last toss back of her head. She rose and approached the bar for a fourth time. It was precisely eight o'clock as she stood. She motioned to the bartender as she walked that she wished to purchase another drink. The bartender nodded and filled up another tankard.
"Thank you," Hermione said as she put down her money.
"Granger?" The person closest to Hermione at the bar turned and looked in her direction.
Hermione didn't recognize the youth that was looking at her. After a second, she realized who she was looking at, "Nott?"
"Yeah," Theodore Nott said smiling a surprised smile.
Theo Nott had been a Slytherin in Hermione's year back at Hogwarts. Hermione had never associated with any Slytherins, and it was just as unlikely for a Slytherin to befriend Hermione, but they at least knew of each other. They had shared advanced potions lessons together in their older years at school.
Why was he addressing her in the open public? Hermione must've had a confused look on her face, because Nott spoke addressing it.
"Sorry, I know that we're supposed to have this Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry. And I know we aren't supposed to speak to each other normally," he let out a charming scoff, "but it's been a weird day." He raised his glass in Hermione's direction and took a sip from his mug.
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked without moving closer to Nott.
"Are you familiar with what's going on with Societal Decree 243?" Nott asked.
The two started talking about the most hotly debated decree in Ministry history. Eventually, Hermione invited Nott to join her in her secluded booth.
"So after everything with the war, I left school and took an internship at the Ministry. I've been there since mid-June," Nott explained.
Hermione knew about the bad reputation of many Slytherins, but she knew that Nott hadn't been a Voldemort supporter - despite what she knew about his father, he was just placed in the house for his clever and ambition - and perhaps his bloodline.
"I often come here after work. I believe it's a good sign of a successful politician to celebrate the end of the work day with a drink or three," Nott said finishing off his tankard of butterbeer, "But what brings you here on a Monday night?"
"Well," Hermione didn't know why she began to explain her predicament with someone who was almost a complete stranger, but she was drinking and enjoying the chat, so she opened up, "I've been selected as a participant in Societal Decree 243," she took a moment to take a sip of drink. "I was supposed to meet a suitor at eight. That was almost an hour ago, but I got cold feet. I'm not going to throw away my happiness because the Ministry told me to. I will deal with the consequences later."
Hermione assumed that Nott would look at her like she was crazy. Who would obey a direct request from the Ministry of Magic? Especially not Hermione Granger. "I did the same thing."
Hermione's eyes grew wide.
"Don't worry, I'm sure we weren't paired together. I know an intern at the Department of F & F. There are dozens of people 'paired up' every night, but I was scheduled for the eight o'clock slot as well. No offense, but I doubt that you were the eighth smartest witch in the whole country."
"What did you say?" Hermione said dropping her jaw.
"I know how brilliant you are, but I just doubt that you could be the eighth smartest witch or wizard in the nation. I'm the twelfth after all," Nott said sounding proud.
Was this destiny? How had this opportunity been presented to her? In that moment, Hermione saw Theo Nott in a completely different light. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the newfound information, maybe it was fate.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" He asked sounding concerned.
"Nothing," Hermione said, "Do you want another drink?"
"Sure, I'll buy," Nott reached out for Hermione's empty mug and brought his own up to the bartender. When he returned, he slid a little closer to Hermione. "So, Granger, how did someone as smart as you end up in Gryffindor rather than Ravenclaw?"
"I could ask you the same question, Mr. Twelfth Smartest Wizard," she questioned back.
"Well, I guess we both have stronger traits than just our intelligence. You must have some sort of bravery that most don't see on the surface, and I must be a little more cunning than initially meets the eye," Nott said, "But I'm sure that there is plenty more to you than meets the eye." Nott now leaned a little closer to Hermione as he said this.
Hermione was feeling warm from how close Nott was to her, but that also could've been all the butterbeer that she had consumed.
"There's probably plenty more of you than meets the eye," Hermione said back meeting the Slytherin's gaze with her own.
"There's plenty more of me to see," Nott said with a hint of a devilish glint in his eye.
"How much more?" Hermione asked eyeing him back. She didn't know why, but something about the entire situation made her feel edgier. On the one hand, she would be wanted by the Ministry - at the very least, for questioning - she was shrugging off her civic duties, but after finding out that it may have been destiny for her to share a moment with Nott, she was throwing her inhibitions to the wind - thanks to a little bit of alcohol.
"I have a room, right upstairs," Nott said putting his lips close to Hermione's ear, "How about I show you how much more?"
Hermione bit her lip as she weighed the options in her head. Nott understood the lip biting to be seductive. Hermione tried to think about the repercussions of skipping on her appointment with the Ministry. Would she get a stern talking to? Would she be fined? Would she be put in prison? She didn't know what would happen, but maybe if she went through with spending a night with Number 12, all could be forgiven?
Hermione didn't say a word. She just nodded her head. In a flash, before she could change her mind, Nott was on his feet. He extended a hand to Hermione and she took it. He pulled on her arm to assist her out of the booth and in no time, the pair of teenagers were on their way to the higher level of the Leaky Cauldron.
Nott, still leading Hermione by the hand, fumbled for the key to the room in his pocket. A nervous anticipation shone brightly through every one of his movements. The door swung opened and was almost thrust off its hinges as Nott opened the door. Once Hermione was through the doorway, Nott shoved the door closed. It banged shut.
Nott was upon Hermione the instant the door latched closed. Nott didn't tower over Hermione like some of her other schoolmates. He was barely noticeably taller than Hermione. He was lean, but somewhat strong as he held her. Nott's hands rested on Hermione's waist and he pulled her toward him. Their hips collided together for a second, before the Slytherin lifted a hand to the back of Hermione's head. He pulled her closer to him so that her lips came into contact with his. She definitely noticed that his lips had the sweet hint of butterscotch on them. Hermione didn't have the time to enjoy the subtle nicety.
Forcefully, Nott pressed his tongue against Hermione's lips and she acquiesced his request by sliding her own tongue between her lips to meet him. With his hand still on Hermione's waist he gripped onto her frame. It was rougher than she had expected. At the same time, Nott pulled Hermione's head closer to him for a deeper kiss.
Uncomfortable by how hard he was pulling her toward him, Hermione placed both hands on Nott's front and pushed away from him. Hermione needed a second to herself. Everything was happening so quickly. She had never ever done something like this before. She was the furthest thing from 'that kind of girl'. But then the envelope from the Ministry of Magic popped up into her head. It may be unusual, but it may be better than the alternative of being persecuted by the magical governing body.
"What's wrong?" Nott asked. He was looking at Hermione in such a hard way. Not hard in the sense that he was frustrated that she had pushed away from him, but hard as if he were really, really examining her.
"It's just-" she started.
"You're not this kind of a girl?" Nott said beating her to the punch.
Hermione looked at him surprised.
"Worried about the consequences? There aren't any," Nott told her.
That wasn't completely true, Hermione thought. As a matter of fact there may be more consequences if she didn't go through with this. Of course, Nott didn't know that she was supposed to be meeting him at the Ministry that night, but if she told him that she was registration number eight, it might feel more forced. This was somewhat natural.
"You're right," Hermione replied. She took a deep breath to help her relax - it barely helped, but with the assistance of her butterbeers, she went to put her best foot forward. She took a small step towards Nott and that was all the sign that he needed.
He closed the distance between the Gryffindor and wrapped her up in his arms - not longingly, but possessively. He twisted and crossed the room while still holding Hermione. Without noticing it, Hermione's knees backed into the bed of the small Leaky Cauldron room. Hermione buckled over and fell onto her back. Nott continued cascading down on top of her. Not a second after Hermione's head fell to the mattress, Nott's lips were back down on hers. Hermione kissed the Slytherin boy back.
While Nott kissed her, Hermione felt that her shirt that was tucked into her skirt was being lifted around her waist. She didn't know why but she arched her back to allow Nott more ease of untucking the tails of her shirt. Robotically, she kissed him while her mind wandered on what she was doing. She was brought back to exactly what she was doing when Nott bit down on her lip a little harder than she liked.
"Ow!" Hermione cried out, though that's all she did.
"Sorry," Nott replied not sounding sorry. He was finishing unbuttoning the front of Hermione's shirt. He tossed either side of the shirt opened so that her creamy white flesh lay exposed. Her collarbone and upper chest was separated from her smooth stomach only by a simple black bra.
Hermione's whole face flushed. This was all so fast. She made to cover herself a little, but Nott pinned her hands down for a second, "You're so beautiful."
Hermione didn't know why him saying that allowed him the opportunity to ogle over her, but she didn't fight him, even though as she looked down she knew that her entire face was blushing if her upper chest was that red.
"Here, take this off," Nott said moving to help assist Hermione into a semi-sitting position. He did most of the work, but Hermione's shirt was on the floor in a matter of seconds. Nott released Hermione and she fell back onto the mattress. He sat up from where he was on top of Hermione and pulled his shirt up and over his head. Nott was built like a swimmer. He was slender, but somewhat muscular.
He came back down and brought his lips down to Hermione's hungrily. Soon their mouths twisted together as their tongues tied together. Nott wasted no time moving his hands to where he wanted them. In a sharp movement, one hand was under Hermione's bra cup and he was pawing at her chest. He was clumsily fumbling around which made Hermione wonder if this was the right decision.
While Nott was grabbing as much flesh as he could of Hermione's chest, his hips began gyrating against Hermione's thigh. She could start to feel the hard outline of where this game was ending. Her eyes bulged for a second as she felt what was against her leg. Based on where they were in their foreplay, Hermione guessed that Theo Nott was probably half as hard as he could be, and if that were the case, his erection was going to grow larger than anything Hermione had seen before - ever.
A slight twinge of panic came over Hermione. For the briefest second, she thought she felt Nott smile into their kiss. But then he pulled away from Hermione's lips and brought them down to her exposed neck and collarbone.
Hermione closed her eyes and tried to enjoy the sensation of Nott kissing her sensually, but every couple of seconds, she would feel him rubbing himself against her thigh. Hermione was so preoccupied with that thought that she didn't even notice that Nott had successfully sprung the back of her bra loose. She was brought back to her current situation when she had to assist Nott in sliding the article of clothing down her shoulders.
"Perfect," Nott breathed out. He wasn't speaking in terms of Hermione's beauty, but more in awe of the situation he was in of having the Gryffindor princess topless in front of him.
Hermione wanted to cover herself up, but wondered how she would look to Nott if she moved her hands to protect herself.
Again, Nott must've noticed how she was looking because he spoke, "Don't be nervous," he rolled off of Hermione and moved to the edge of the bed, "Come over here, Granger."
Slowly, unsure of what was going to happen next, Hermione rolled up to a seated position and moved to the same edge where Nott was sitting.
"Here, let's take this off," Nott said reaching down for Hermione's skirt forcefully. As he moved to pull the fabric down, the first sounds of tearing threads emitted from the skirt.
"I can do it," Hermione said, removing his hand from the waistband. She reached for the zipper and undid it. Delicately, she moved the fabric down from her waist to her thighs, down to her knees and then on the floor. She took a deep breath and pinched her legs together. She didn't need to gift Nott a peek at her too soon. She was sporting a black set of delicates that matched the bra that was resting on the bed.
Hermione turned to look a Nott and he was also left only in his bottom most layer. He had tossed his trousers to the side while Hermione removed the skirt. Even restricted by his boxers, Hermione couldn't help but stare. His shorts were tenting impressively - almost scarily so.
"Close your mouth, Granger," it's true her mouth was agape looking at him while he smirked, "unless you'd rather not close it."
"What does that mean?" She questioned.
"Why don't you come over here," Nott said putting a hand on her hip and moving her. The way he said the words made it seem like she had an option, but the way that he firmly moved her, told her that she had no choice.
Nott tried to get her to kneel in front of him, but Hermione fought him and remained standing on her feet. She looked down at the boy that was sitting on the edge of the bed with his feet resting flat on the floor. Hermione's eyes kept peering down at the boy's groin. Every time that she looked she didn't know what to expect, but she didn't think his erection could remain so large - after all he was so skinny.
"Do you like what you see?" Nott said leaning back with the palms of his hands firmly on the mattress. He was happy to see that Hermione seemed both mesmerized and scared.
Hermione was thinking to herself, how was she going to fit that inside her. It looked like it would poke a hole in her.
Nott appeared to be inspecting her face again, "Don't be scared. You can take a closer look if you want."
Hermione didn't know why she did, call it academic curiosity, but she leaned a little closer, bending over at the waist only. She was still respectfully far enough away, but needed to see closer.
"Don't be shy," Nott said grabbing onto Hermione's shoulder firmly. He pulled her closer to him. She fell forward and landed on her knees on the floor of the Leaky Cauldron. She tried her best to brace herself by putting her hands on Nott's thighs, but it didn't stop her from bumping her cheek against the hard flesh between Nott's legs. He laughed. With his hand still on Hermione's shoulder, he held her firmly.
As Hermione fell against his sheathed erection, she noticed that his rod was nearly the size of her face. Now that she was closer, she was scared.
Nott smirked to himself, "Here, let's take a closer look." With his free hand, Nott helped the waistband of his shorts down and freed his long hardness. With his other hand that was on Hermione's shoulder, he tried to pull her closer to his prick while his other hand tried to position the mushroom tip at Hermione's lips.
Hermione shook her head to avoid his slick tip from touching her, but he was too quick, "Nott!" She tried to scold him. She didn't like how she was being treated.
"Come on, Granger, for the good of the magical population," Nott reminded her.
"That doesn't mean I have to put that in my mouth," Hermione told him. She wanted to get to her feet, but he was holding her shoulder so firmly.
"But it won't hurt," Nott said making another move to force his long member against Hermione's lips.
"No," she said, but this time Nott was able to more forcibly rub the tip against her lips.
He relished in how it felt, "Just one minute and I'll let you up," Nott said.
Hermione would normally never stand for being treated like this, but there were many factors weighing on her. One, she may have had one too many butterbeers to stick to her morals. Two, Nott was also being alarmingly too firm. Three, the looming fear of the Ministry's consequences. If this is what she had to do, to eventually copulate with Nott, perhaps all would be forgiven from the Ministry, if the end result was the same.
"One minute," Hermione said firmly. She stared up into Nott's eyes with what she thought was a real threat, but he was only looking back at her with carnal pleasure.
Hermione tossed her hair behind her shoulders, reached out with her hand and prepared herself for the worst. As she gripped him, she couldn't believe how hard he was. How was there any blood left for the rest of his body? If Hermione reached out with both her hands and placed them end to end on Nott's rod there would still be plenty of skin exposed.
Hermione began by moving her hand up and down on Nott's rod. If she wasn't being forced to consent to this act, the size would almost prove laughable. As she looked at what she was stroking it was hard to believe that this was going to be inside her. For the first bit, she just looked on in awe as she flashed her hand up and down his pole.
"This doesn't count as your minute," Nott's said leaning back and relishing in watching Hermione's small hand stroke his firmness.
Hermione made a disapproving sound, but knew what she had to do. She brought her head forward and opened her mouth. She took the head of his prick into her mouth. She sucked on it for a second and removed it from her mouth with a pop. She repeated this several times. His slick pre-cum covered her tongue and mixed with her saliva. She was disgusted to be doing this, but it could be much worse she thought to herself.
"You can do a little better, Granger," Nott accused her with a grin on his face.
Hermione thought on his words for a second, and her mind flashed back to her Fourth Year, the first time that she performed this act for anyone. Viktor had been so insistent that she tried, and she obliged him. Viktor had told her that she had been so good, and she always secretly took pride in being told she was good. She thought back on some notes from the passed.
"I'm sure you showed Krum a thing or two, back in the day," Nott accused Hermione.
She stopped for a second, how had he guess that?
"Don't stop," Nott said bucking his hips toward her, "Or I'll start the timer over."
Hermione wanted to scoff, but just wanted to get this over with. She put Nott back in her mouth again and engulfed his tip again.
"Come on, Granger," Nott said pressing his hips forward. His rod only got halfway into Hermione's mouth, but that was farther than she had ever taken a boy before.
She went into a coughing fit.
"Oh, come on," Nott said disbelieving, "That was hardly half of me." He had a wicked grin on his face.
When she calmed down, Hermione gritted her teeth and did what she had to do. She knelt down and brought her face right next to Nott's groin. With both hands, she took him. One hand took his shaft closest to his hanging fruit. The other was higher up. It rested just below the head of him rod. One minute was going to be fine. Hermione moved her bottom hand in time with her mouth and other hand. Each time she stroked Nott upward, she brought it down furiously. This resulted in her tiny hand bumping into Nott's inflamed sack over and over stimulating him. While Hermione continued to take in Nott's engorged head, she would venture just a little more down. She worked her other hand in perfect rhythm with her bobbing head.
That was not what Nott was expecting at all. Hermione was pleasuring him with her mouth like he had never seen before. Had he known that Hermione could do this, he would've pursued her in the Hogwarts castle long ago.
Hermione was not pleased with what she was doing, but she was going to try to make the best of a bad situation. Hermione worked her hands and head in perfect time on Nott. She knew she was getting the better of him as his thighs were tightening and his feet were flexing.
In an instance, Nott sprang up to his feet, "Woah!" He tried to fight Hermione's hands off of him, but it was too late.
Nott made a strained sound as he tried to will himself from completing its most basic desire. Hermione moved to the side to avoid any of Nott's semen from landing on her. Unmistakably, Hermione had appeared to get the better of Nott. She looked down at the floor to see the trophy of her good work, but was somewhat disappointed. She was expecting a larger mess.
"That was close," Nott said not moving. The slightest breeze would have him spending everything he had left.
"What do you mean?" Hermione said raising to her feet.
"We're not done yet," Nott told her.
"Are you sure," she gestured at his sperm that were wasted on the ground.
"Let's say, I popped, but not everything came out," Nott told her, still nervous to move.
"Oh," Hermione said. She wasn't exactly sure what he meant.
"I don't know if you forgot, but if we're going to try to fulfill Societal Decree 243, we need that," Nott reminded her.
Of course she hadn't forgotten, it had just slipped her mind.
"Should we do this?" Nott said feeling himself calm down. His member was looking a little limped, but still like it could be more weapon of mass destruction rather than sexual organ.
"Some real romance, huh?" Hermione questioned.
"This isn't about romance," Nott expressed.
"Of course, not," Hermione said.
All these words were enough for Nott, who didn't want to wait. He reached out to Hermione and pulled her close to him. He kissed her full on the mouth as their bodies were pressed together. Hermione felt how far up Nott's erection rested against her belly, and it seemed impossible for it to fit.
In a sharp movement, Hermione was sitting on Nott's lap on the mattress. After some desperate moving of his hands, Hermione's last layer was removed and she was straddling Nott just as naked as he was. Hermione knew what was expected next, but wasn't overly eager to get there. That was the opposite approach that Nott took. Almost as if he were a bucking bronco, he pressed his hardness that was resting lengthwise against Hermione's most intimate core against her.
"Come here," Nott said reaching up with one hand. He pulled Hermione down on top of him. She leaned forward at his strength and received his lips on hers. That was harmless enough, until she felt what it was that he was ultimately trying to do.
While Nott had Hermione distracted with a kiss, his other hand took himself and positioned his length at Hermione's entrance. With one slight jolt of his waist he entered Hermione's slick entrance. Nott thought that Hermione was so prepared for his large rod in sexual anticipation, but in reality, Hermione's body was trying to protect herself from his massive invader.
Nott didn't drive himself to the hilt inside her, that would've ruined everything, but once he was already inside her, he knew that he would eventually get there.
Hermione cried out. She was more shocked than anything. She was most terrified that he was going to bury himself as far as he could, but when there wasn't a stabbing pain in her stomach from his rod, she thought she had overreacted about the whole thing, but in reality, Nott was only about halfway into her.
"There you go, Granger, not so bad, right?" Nott tried to coax her.
Hermione just nodded her head as she adjust to the new pressure in her body.
"Sit up," Nott instructed her.
Hermione did, and she took a peek between her legs. Her eyes widened when she saw that there was still another three or four inches of his manhood that had to go in her.
Nott groaned in appreciation as she worked herself into a seated position, "That's a good girl," Nott told her.
With one hand, Hermione reached down to her stomach and discreetly tried to feel where his tip was deposited, it rested as deep as she had ever felt before.
"Come on," Nott said growing impatient. He bucked his hips. He didn't thrash them upward, but did just enough to worry Hermione that if he did it again, his prick could go too deep if she wasn't ready.
From her knees, the Gryffindor bounced up and down on him. Nott purred his approval as he watched Hermione's youthful body move on top of him. Her perky chest had a slight bounce to it, but it was visually stimulating.
Hermione hated to admit it, but there was a certain angle that Nott's depth was hitting that she had never felt before. Controlling the tempo and depth herself, Hermione kept bringing herself down right where she wanted it.
"Oh fuck, Granger," Nott said in admiration.
Hermione closed her eyes trying to block out the fact that it was Theo Nott that she was sleeping with, but it was for the benefit of the magical community. So she thought - pretty soon what she was doing was for herself.
Hermione threw her head back and continued dropping herself so that the tip of Nott's rod hit her where she wanted. If she kept that tempo up, she would reach an elusive crescendo. Hermione was biting her lip as she continued riding the Slytherin. Hermione thought she was close, but then a new sensation took her over. Nott reached up with his thumb and started rubbing over Hermione's most sensitive nub. Hermione didn't need to wait for her climax - it arrived.
Hermione made a squeaking sound that she didn't know she was capable of. Her abdomen flexed and her mouth was fixed open as she reached her high. Her body slumped a bit when she regained control of it.
"That happens sometimes," Nott said with a smile, "and look at how good you're doing."
Hermione didn't know what he was talking about. She opened her eyes and looked at him questioningly. Nott was motioning with his head at their act and Hermione had almost fully taken Nott to the hilt. She was surprised, she hadn't noticed that that had happened.
"Ready for the real test?" Nott questioned.
Hermione didn't get to ask what he meant, because he just grabbed onto her hips and pulled her down.
A sharp barely audible sigh of pain escaped Hermione's lips.
"There, not so bad, right?" Nott questioned.
Hermione just focused on wishing that her insides would adjust to the invasion of Nott's lengthy rod. She didn't even protest when he started to pump into her slowly. Even though Hermione was still on top of him, Nott attempted to dictate the tempo of what he was enjoying, but he was having a difficult time, because Hermione was fighting him from going as deep as he wanted to.
"Quick, slide off, Granger," Nott instructed.
Hermione eagerly removed him from inside her. As she pulled him out, her hands involuntarily went to hold her stomach.
Nott moved from lying on his back to his knees. He wanted to see what else he could get out of Hermione Granger, "Come put it back in your mouth."
"No," she replied. The thought of doing that made her begin to feel nauseous.
"Fine," Nott growled. In a flash, he made his way behind Hermione and pushed her over at the waist so she was resting on all fours on the bed.
"No," Hermione said loud enough only so she could hear.
Nott's hard head had no problem pushing back into Hermione's sweet hole. He pushed it as deep as he could. He grunted in pleasure. Hermione squeaked in discomfort. Nott continued to dip into her as far as he could. With each thrust, Hermione tried to protect herself by pushing off of his thighs, but it did little to help. He felt like he was going to push farther than her body would allow. Nott was pushing on Hermione's lower back with one hand while he gripped onto her hips to help leverage his thrusts.
"Ow, shit, Nott!" Hermione said after she was certain she wouldn't be able to continue for much longer.
"Almost there," he told her. Then Hermione felt something that she had never experienced before. A pressure was on Hermione's last virgin opening.
"Don't you dare," Hermione yelled. She tried to turn around and swing at him, but she couldn't get the leverage to do so because he kept bucking into her. Nott never pushed hard enough to enter Hermione's back hole, instead he just kept a finger rested there and threatened to do it.
Then Hermione knew what happened. A deep groan escaped Nott as he retracted his pole. It was a long orgasm and Hermione didn't know what to expect. Nott was retracting himself from her body. Hermione felt ropes of his sperm hitting the outside of her entrance and trailing on her thigh as he kept finishing. She was surprised to see how much got on her since she knew he already wasted some of his seed on the floor and she assumed some was still inside her.
Hermione leapt forward away from the Slytherin. Her insides had been pounded more than she could take. For the last several thrusts and Nott's orgasm she was trying to escape, but his carnal drive had been too strong. But now it was over.
Hermione had done what was required of her by Societal Decree 243. If she were to carry a baby, so be it. If by some roll of the dice, she didn't, it wasn't her fault. She had slept with registration number 12 and he had finished inside her. Now it was up to biology and evolution.
"For the magical population," Nott said falling back to a seat on the mattress. He wiped sweat off his brow.
"Fuck you," Hermione said rolling off the bed. She knew she would still hate Slytherins.
"You just did," Nott said with a smile to himself.
"We're done here," she announced. She was disappointed with what happened, but at least she met the minimal expectations of the Ministry - she hoped.
Hermione quickly got dressed and returned to her parents' home without ever speaking of the details of that night.
Weeks later, Hermione was sitting at the breakfast table with her parents. Life had gone back to a semblance of normalcy. It had been many days since the morning meal was interrupted by a Ministry owl. That morning the streak ended.
"What now?" Mrs. Granger asked as she opened the window to allow the bird in.
Hermione opened the envelope that was addressed to her.
Due to your failure to show up to your Ministry mandated appointment, you are being fined for the amount of 50 galleons.
A note is being added to your file. Failure to comply with the Ministry again will result in a higher fine. A third infraction will result in incarceration.
Head of the Department of Families and Fertility
Apparently even though Hermione had spent the night with Nott, she was still penalized. Perhaps it was because she hadn't gotten pregnant?
From Hermione's point of view it was money well spent.
While Hermione's story didn't pick up until weeks later, Theo Nott's tale continued the following night.
At 8 o'clock, Nott made his way back to the Leaky Cauldron. He sat at the bar and waited. He looked around the room for the first vulnerable looking girl he could find. When he found a particularly tasty looking redhead, he quietly cast his incantation, Legilimens.
Legilimency was something that Nott picked up from his father. The ability to unfold an unsuspecting person's mind like an onion was his greatest trick.
"Sorry number 46," the redhead said within her own brain, except her thoughts were not as private as she thought they were, "but number 27 isn't available tonight."
Nott smiled. This same ruse had been going on for over a week. He was preying on the young women too frightened to attend their 8 o'clock appointments at the Department of Families and Fertility.
He was inside their heads and toyed with them all. He wished that Societal Decree 243 remained permanent.
Those cunning folk that use any means to meet their ends. Nott smiled at one of the mottos of Slytherin as he approached his newest delight. He was prepared to use the same approach that had proven fruitful for eight straight nights.
A/N: Hope everyone enjoyed that - I know it's a little dark and some people will cry that it was OOC Hermione, but this wasn't any darker/dubcon than any of my Hermione/Snape work and I know there are thousands of visitors that still read those stories.
I know I haven't been active in awhile, but that doesn't mean that I haven't been writing. I promise I will do my best to finish up AVHS, but I've been working diligently on a story (working title "Prince of Darkness") and I'm over 180,000 words into it. That's longer than 4 of the original 7 books.
Again, sorry I've been inactive for so long. I'm trying to find the time and inspiration to finish up AVHS, and once I finish that, I will begin posting POD - which I'm super excited to share.
Lastly, thanks again to stephalopolisO9 for sparking the tinder of my creative outlet.