Just How Much Does Hermione Love Books
Standard Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all characters are property of J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, Bloomsbury Books, Arthur A. Levine Books, Raincoast Books, Scholastic publishing, et al, and are used without permission. This work was written purely for noncommercial entertainment; no money is being made or asked for.
Description: During the trio's stay at Grimmauld Place in DH, Hermione spends some quality alone time with a good book. Sexual situation: masturbation. You'll find no plot to water down the smut in this fic.
Late one night, in the library of number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Hermione paced back and forth in front of the shelves. Her warm brown eyes carefully examined each book, as if appraising it. Her bare feet padded silently on the hard wooden floor. The light from her wand tip cast long shadows that danced on the walls.
Like many of the previous nights, Harry could not sleep. The thought of Voldemort in control of the Ministry and the young wizard's quest to find the villain's horcruxes plagued Harry's mind night after night, robbing him of sleep. This night, as he ventured to the kitchen to get some warm milk in an attempt to help him sleep, Harry saw a light coming from the library. Knowing it would be Hermione (as Ron avoided books like the plague), Harry walked in the library and asked his friend; "What are you doing up?"
"I'm looking for a book," she answered him.
"Can't sleep either?" he asked.
"No," she paused in her search and turned to her friend. "I was going to find a book and see if I could take my mind off our current situation."
"I was about to fetch some warm milk. Do you want any?" he offered.
"I think a book will help me just fine, thank you for asking," she returned with a sweet smile.
Just then, as if to mock their inability to sleep, Ron let out a loud, rattling snore. It was a good thing that the Order had abandoned the house after Dumbledore's death and Hermione, Harry, and Ron were the only ones in the building. Otherwise Ron's eardrum rupturing loud snore would have surely woken everyone in the house.
"How'd you sleep with that in the same dorm room for six years?" she asked, looking up at the ceiling.
"Before I learned a proper Silencing Charm I had to stuff cotton balls into my ears," he replied.
Hermione let out a snort and returned to her search for a good book.
"You sure you don't want some milk?" he asked again.
"Thank you but no," she said as she scanned another shelf. "I hope you get some rest."
"You too," Harry turned and walked out of the library. "Good night, Hermione."
"Good night, Harry."
And ever the true friend, Ron released another snore – his unique way of wishing everyone a good night.
After a few seconds of searching, Hermione found the perfect book. The Power of Seven: How the Number Seven Affects Everything in Life by Phileas Swill, Version Two, published 1899.
Hermione clutched the book to her bosom and retreated to her room. There she carefully set the antique book down on the night stand, retrieved her wand and quickly cast a Silencing Charm on the room. The charm was strictly for Harry's sake and not Ron's. The Hogwarts' Express could come crashing through the bottom floor of Grimmauld Place and Ron would not even stir. Hermione then cast an Impervius Charm on the book which acted as a thin, invisible shield that kept skin oils or any other liquid from harming the tome. At ninety-eight years old, it was far too precious of an item to damage and she wanted to ensure its protection.
Setting her wand next to the book, Hermione untied her robe, removed it, and hung it on the hook by the door. Carefully, Hermione picked up the book and opened it.
The Impervius Charm's shield protected the book from outside hazards and it allowed the scent of the book to reach Hermione's nose. The smell of decades' old ink and paper and the musky scent of mold filled her nose. It made her heart flutter. She took another deep breath, letting the aroma wash over her. Old book so thrilled her.
She closed the book and ran her fingers delicately over its spine. This was why she chose this book. Not for the knowledge it contained but because of the textured leather and the six thick ribs of the spine. Caressing it like it was a lover; Hermione traced each one of the ribs, three at the top and three at the bottom. She felt each crack in the leather binding as if she tried to memorize them. Most of the gold had flecked off of the inlay title and a part of Hermione almost felt sorry for this book. So old and forgotten; the tome was left to spend eternity collecting dust on a shelf.
Placing the book to her lips, Hermione kissed it. The hard, cold leather of the binding pricked at her lips. Her mouth opened slightly and her tongue darted out. The unique taste of leather danced along her tongue and her heart began to race. Desiring more, Hermione lifted the book so that the bottom of the spine rested on her full lips. Placing her tongue on the binding, the brunette slowly brought the book down, dragging her tongue along the length of the spine. Under the leather, she tasted hints of smoke; indicating that there might have been a fire in Grimmauld Place sometime in the past. The smoke from the fire was trapped in the leather of the book.
A shuttering breath escaped her lips. The taste of the book tingled on her tongue and made her ache.
She slid it down, pressing it against her chin, then her neck where she felt the tattoo of her own pulse reverberate through the tome. The cracked leather tickled and scraped her skin as the young witch pulled it into her cleavage. The bottom corner of the book tugged her nightie down an inch. Hermione rolled her shoulders forward, pressing her arms into the sides of her breasts. She awkwardly held the book in her hand while her arms pressed her breasts into the tome. She loved the feeling of the heavy weight of the thick book between her soft orbs.
Hermione relaxed her shoulders and lifted her free hand up to the left strap of her nightgown. Slowly, she pushed the strap down and pulled the cotton garment from her left breast. Her nipple was already hard, standing tall and eager for the book's touch. Hermione reward her pink nub by taking the corner of the spine and drawing a circle around her areola. Her nipple hardened even more. Drawing another circle, Hermione brought the corner of the book closer to her nub. She moaned as the coarse object scraped her nipple. She licked her lips, tasting the salt of the sweat that had blossomed. She made another pass across her nipple and her back arched involuntarily. The young woman used her free hand to pinch her nipple. Holding onto her nub firmly, Hermione pulled up, lifting her breast. The prickling sensation of her nipple being tugged made her hiss through her teeth. Holding her bosom up, Hermione lightly raked the spine on the underside of her orb. The rough edge of the book grazed her tender skin, leaving red lines.
Tiny beads of sweat trickled down the valley between her breasts. More dribbled down her sides and stomach. The sweat made her cotton nightie cling to her body.
Hermione released her hold and let her breast fall. She then removed the right strap of her nightie and pulled it down. The cotton fabric clung to her sweat damp skin. Upon uncovering her right bosom, Hermione began to repeat the process of scraping the corner of the spine into her sensitive nipple.
As the rough leather raked her nipple, Hermione's belly clenched up and a noticeable amount of warm fluid seeped out of her sex. Her toes curled and the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood. Her body yearned for more. It wanted her to stop this foreplay and begin its release. A smile stretched her lips.
This was the best part: anticipation. She could easily skip this and charge ahead. But the self teasing always heightened the experience for Hermione. The longer she waited, the more she teased, the bigger the sensation. She pressed the spine into her areola, mashing her nipple, and turned the book anticlockwise. The rough leather grated and tickled her sensitive skin. Her body pleaded with her to stop the infernal teasing and move ahead. Biting her tongue, Hermione defied her body. She was going to continue this action until the need for release was a burning pain. Tonight, she wanted to explode.
More of her juices trickled out of her. It dribbled out of her saturated knickers and flow down her thighs. Her belly began to burn.
This was going to be a good one. She needed it to be. The stress and burdens she had been forced to endure the past few weeks demanded this.
Her belly clenched again, hard like a balled up fist. And another bout of warm fluid filled her womanhood. It was time.
Hermione pushed her nightie down, past her shapely hips, her thighs, and shins to her feet. She kicked the cotton garment carelessly away. Her naked skin prickled in the cold night air, sending a shiver up her spine. Hermione gently set the book on the nightstand and hooked her fingers on either side of her knickers. Slowly, she began to tug the underpants down. The wet cotton clung stubbornly to her sex. The smell of her own arousal wafted up to her nose. In a way, it reminded her of the alluring aroma of the book lying on the nightstand. Soon, the soaked knickers joined the nightie in a crumpled heap.
She retrieved the book once again and pressed the spine into her belly. Slowly, she pushed it down until the bottom edge of the book touched her trimmed pubic hair. Just as she had with her nipples, Hermione moved the book in a circle, dragging it through her short hairs. She felt herself quiver expectantly, hungry over what was about to come.
But Hermione was not ready to give herself release. Not yet.
She slid the book over her mons pubis and pushed it between her thighs, a mere breath below her aching lips. Sliding it back and forth, Hermione shivered as the rough leather tickled the tender skin of her inner thighs.
While continuing to slide the book, Hermione reached up and pinched her nipple. A long, low moan flowed from her parted lips. She rolled her pink nub between her thumb and forefinger, playfully twisting the sensitive teat.
Sweat dripped from her nose, chin and trickled down her breasts like tiny rivers. Her belly clenched almost painfully and her knees trembled, threatening to give and send her crashing to the floor. A powerful need had built in her loins. It was finally time to progress.
The brunette walked to her bed and sat on the very edge of the mattress. She brought the book to her lips and kissed it before lowering between her legs. When the corner of the spine brushed against her clit Hermione let out a yelp as a charge coursed through her body. Her nether lips quivered against the cold, hard book.
Slowly, Hermione pushed the book down, drawing the length of the spine over her labia and bud. Her shoulders shivered as her body was rocked by the sensation of the cracked leather and thick ribs of the book raked her sex. Her left foot began to spasm and twitch uncontrollably while she dragged the spine back up her womanhood.
The feeling the book elicited was beyond fantastic. Hermione's breath already came in short, shallow bursts. And it had only been a few seconds since she began the stroking. Her orgasm built rapidly in her belly. It burned her as it stretched up to her chest and down her thighs. It would claim her shortly; far too soon for Hermione's liking.
Ignoring her body's plea for another stroke from the book, Hermione pulled the tome away from her sopping sex. After brushing several locks of hair that clung to her sweaty brow, she looked down at her bright pink and engorged sex.
"You want more, don't you?" she asked her womanhood in a throaty growl.
As if in response to her question, a fresh trickle of fluid seeped from her lips. It fell in heavy drops to the floor.
"All right then. But you have to promise not to cum too soon."
When she placed the spine back on her sex, Hermione's body rewarded her with another charge. Her breasts swelled and her womanhood flooded.
"Fuck," she groaned out.
She slid the book along her sex at an agonizingly slow pace. Each protruding rib pushed and nudged her labia and clit. Her warm juices coated the spine.
The burning sensation in her belly turned into an inferno. Every inch of her skin tingled and burned. Her sex became hypersensitive. She could feel every crack and crevice in the binding as it scraped across her tender flesh. One complete pass of the book followed. She repeated this again and again. Each time Hermione dragged the entire length of the spine back and forth slowly.
Then her release came. All of her muscles contracted painfully. Her legs clamped like a vise around the book. Her legs bucked and her spine arched so rapidly that she was flung backward onto the bed. But these physical reactions did not register with the brunette. Her mind was consumed by the orgasm. The whole world vanished in a blinding white light as the fire of her climax consumed her.
When her senses returned, Hermione laid on her back, taking in deep gulps of breath. Her body trembled as if she had just sprinted around Hogwarts' lake three times.
Needing more, much more, Hermione forced herself up. She rolled over onto her hands and knees. Hermione lowered her torso to the mattress and rested her head on the pillow, leaving her naked bottom and fanny in the air. The cold air nipped at her soaked nether lips. She bit her lip while sliding the book under her body and between her legs.
Her climax had only heightened her sensitivity. So much so that the mere touch of the book to her clit reignited the inferno in her belly and sent a shockwave through her body. This sensation threatened to loose her grip on the book, but she held fast.
Hermione groaned loudly into her pillow as she pushed the spine into her wet folds. Holding it firmly to her lips and clit, she pulled the book down toward the mattress and along her sex. Her liquid dripped down the spine and into her hand. She pushed the book up toward the ceiling and her toes curled. The heat coming from her body chased away the chill in the book.
A few short moments later, Hermione experienced her second orgasm; this one more intense and powerful than the first. Like before, her legs kicked involuntarily, causing her to crash onto the bed.
When she recovered from the climax, Hermione discovered that the book had tumbled from her grip and was resting against her thigh while her hand was pinned below her sex. The hot juices dripping from her cunny pooled in her palm. Her whole body tingled as if she had been hit with a strong Stinging Hex.
She licked her lips and rolled over. Her body wanted to rest. But Hermione needed more. With her muscles protesting, she struggled and sat up. She reached for the discarded book and took a moment to admire how the spine was now glistening with her release.
Lying back on the bed, Hermione wriggled and curved her spine up, pushing her fanny into the air and letting her legs flop over her head. This position pushed her belly into her diaphragm and restricted her breath. She couldn't hold this form long. Judging by how tender her body was, Hermione doubted that she would need much time.
She pushed the now slick book onto her womanhood. Unlike the two times before where Hermione had moved slowly, this time she virtually attacked her fanny; rubbing the spine of the book on her deliciously sore sex so fast that it was almost a blur of motion. If she had not been so wet, this action would've hurt. Instead it sent a spike of pleasure through her body.
"Oh fuck," she moaned. While continuing her near fanatic pace, she reached down and behind her back with her free hand. She fumbled blindly around her bottom for a moment before finding her target. Biting her lip, Hermione forced her middle finger deep into her anus. Her sex clenched and a flow poured out, dribbling and cascading down both the book and her belly. She bent and twirled her finger in the cavity, causing her womanhood to flood yet again.
Dizzy from lack of air and her ecstasy, Hermione's world spun wildly. Colors blurred and scents intensified. A heavy stream of spittle flowed from the corner of her mouth.
For the third time that night, Hermione came. She thrashed on the bed and screamed. Her legs kick up and out, landing on the bed with two loud thumps. Her heart felt as if it exploded due to sheer pleasure.
The bed was drenched with her sweat and love. The sheets were a tangled mess.
Panting heavily, Hermione brought the book to her lips. She licked the length of the spine. Her own musky flavor combined with the book's age and leather.
Looking at the time faded title caused Hermione to smile. The Power of Seven dealt with the power of the number seven, particularly doing things such as tasks and incantations in increments of seven. If she stopped at experiencing just three orgasms, she'd be doing Phileas Swill and his fine work a disservice.
Placing the wonderful book back to her womanhood, Hermione said breathily; "Three down, four more to go!"
Early the next morning, a well rested Hermione joined her two friends at the breakfast table. As per usual, Ron was busy shoveling food into his gaping mouth. Harry simply smiled at the bushy haired brunette.
"Good morning," she greeted the two, taking her seat at the table.
"Mrphmrm," said Ron through a mouthful of porridge and kipper. Hermione did her best to ignore the food dribbling from his lips.
"Morning," returned Harry. The wizard had a peculiar glint in his eye, one that Hermione could not decipher.
"Did the warm milk help you any?" she asked Harry.
"No, I was…" he paused. The twinkle in his eyes seemed to shine even brighter. "I was up for a bit."
His smile twitched as he said the word "up" as if it had some hidden meaning.
"Just what are you up to?" she asked.
"Nothing," he said, still smiling and twinkling much like Dumbledore on a sugar high.
For a fraction of a second, Hermione contemplated asking Ron what Harry found so amusing. Such a question would be lost on the red-head – he didn't pay attention to anyone or anything while he ate. To ask him a question during mealtime would result in Ron spitting out partially masticated food as he asked "Wha?" dumbly. That would be if he even understood that he was being addressed with a question, of course.
"Here, I got this for you," said Harry. He slid a gift wrapped book across the table top.
"Oh, thank you Harry," she said. She peeled off the colorful paper to reveal "The Black Family History." Hermione cocked a questioning eyebrow at the bespectacled wizard.
"I found it in Sirius' room," said Harry. "Someone had wedged it under one of the bedpost legs to keep the bed level."
'Why in heaven's name would Harry want to give this to me?' she wondered. Normally she would have been fascinated by any book dealing with history, but this book would be nothing more than pureblood propaganda. There was no doubt that the book was replete with tales of how superior the Black line was and boasted their noble efforts to keep the bloodline pure. Not wanting to be rude, she said, "Thank you, Harry, it's very interesting."
"Yeah, I love the binding," he said and his twinkling hit an all time high. "The bumpy texture of the dragon hide is so appealing. And the decorative ribs are a work of art."
Looking at the book, Hermione had to admit Harry was correct. The smooth, scaly dragon hide binding felt delicious under her fingers. The sensation and the promise of that binding gliding on her skin started a fire in her loins. And the ribs were thick, fat things that promised….
Hermione looked at Harry, her eye wide with shock and fear.
"Next time, you might want to lock the door as well as cast a Silencing Charm," he said, still grinning.
Hermione gulped. "Wh-what?"
"After we said goodnight, I checked up on you to see if the book was helping you rest."
"H-Harry, I can explain," she said. Her belly twisted into a hard knot, any sense of lovely anticipation was completely erased replaced by fear. "I'm not like that. You know me. I'm not bent."
Hermione didn't fear Ron's reaction to her confession. He was in the middle of a meal. Therefore she knew that he would not comprehend anything that transpired around him.
"I swear it was a one time thing! It won't—"
"Hermione," Harry interrupted. "Why do you think I gave you that book?"
His eyes continued to twinkle as he wriggled his eyebrows suggestively.
She looked at the beautiful book with its tantalizing dragon hide and luscious prominent ribs on the spine, then at Harry. "Oh," she said.
"I really enjoyed… watching you," he said. "I enjoyed it even more when I went back to my room."
"Oh," she repeated. "That's what you meant when you said that you were 'up' for a bit."
"I had to cast my own Silencing Charm."
Her belly was no longer twisted, now it tingled once again. But this time the tingling was stronger and growing more intense. An image played out in her mind; Harry, naked and covered with a glistening sheen of sweat, as he stroked his meat, thinking of her stroking her sex.
Running her finger up the bumpy spine of the book, she said "Why cast two separate Silencing Charms? It's such a waste to cast the charm twice when we could… share the same room."
"That would be very effective," Harry said. His face burned. "That way, we'd only have to cast the charm once."
"How about this," she began and clutched the book to her bosom. "We go up to my room and we can see just how effective one charm versus two can be."
Fifteen minutes later, Ron finally took notice that his friends had left the kitchen. The red head grinned looking at the two full bowls of porridge and plates of kippers abandoned by his friends. "Fantastic! More for me!"
While Ron deliberated that the day could not get any better, thanks to the ample amount of food at his disposal, Hermione and Harry were quite busy upstairs in a magically silenced and locked room. Hermione was occupied by stroking and pumping her hands on his spit coated shaft while Harry rubbed the delicious spine ridges of "The Black Family History" onto her soaking folds.
The irony of a halfblood like Harry bringing a muggleborn like Hermione to the heights of ecstasy with the aid of a book that preached pureblood supremacy was not lost on the pair.
Author's Notes: yes, this particular topic has been done before. I'm just trying my hand at it.