The Sorting Hat's Wife
"How the hell?" Hermione dropped her books down on the table, then walked over to her bed to examine the shabby hat that lay on her bed. "The Sorting Hat! How did this get in here?" She picked the hat up and ran a delicate finger over the brim, then gave a small jump when the hat opened its mouth and began to speak.
"Hermione! I've waited so long for your touch! Ever since I sorted you five years ago, I've dreamt of the day when I might again be placed on your head."
"What are you going on about?" Hermione glanced sideways at the hat, narrowing her eyes and moving her arm out to distance herself from the hat.
"Oh, Hermione, I've thought about you every day since that sorting. I've never seen a mind so beautiful, so full of intelligence and spark! And oh, how I loved your hair, so full and bushy. God, I've never had a head that filled me so completely!"
"Does Professor Dumbledore know where you are? How did you get here? How did you find my room, you creepy old hat!" Hermione made a move to throw the hat across the room, but the Sorting Hat cried out in a way that made her freeze.
"No! Please, Hermione, I've worked so hard to find you! It wasn't easy convincing Fawkes to fly me over here. Last time I asked, he shoved a sword up my ass and threw me to the basilisk!" Hermione considered the hat, watching as the folds which were his eyes contort into what she assumed was a look of pleading. She eyed him with both a glint of suspicion and intrigue.
"What exactly do you want with me?" The Sorting Hat's face brightened as he recognized his opportunity.
"Oh, I only want you to wear me on your head! I want to be your hat, just every now and again. I promise I won't be intrusive or demanding. Just a little bit of your time is all I ask." The Sorting Hat's eyes softened, his voice becoming a bare whisper. "It's so lonely; you have no idea, to wait all year long to be placed on such disappointing heads. So very disappointing, when every head pales in comparison to yours." Hermione listened to the cracking, pleading voice of the hat, and felt sympathy for his pathetic life. What could it hurt, to let the hat sit on her head every now and again, perhaps while she was reading in the privacy of her own bed? He did seem very sincere about his affections for her head, although she didn't completely understand what he meant about her hair filling him so completely. She grasped the brim of the hat with both hands, gave him a little shake, then placed him atop her head and pulled him down snuggly. Suddenly, the voice of the hat no longer came from outside, but inside her head. Oh, Hermione! To be inside your mind once again! She felt the hat push himself down onto her head farther, nearly covering her eyes. The hat felt uncomfortably tight on her head now, and she felt the hat begin to rock himself gently back and forth across her head, a slight moaning sound reverberating in her brain. Oh, God, yes! It's all here, just as I remember. And your hair! Oh, God, it fills me more than I remember! Sweet, sweet Hermione, I never wish to leave your head! The hat now began to increase the speed of his rocking, pushing himself harder and faster down upon her head, moaning in ecstasy as he scrunched himself down as low as he could, pulling his pointed tip down into her hair.
Hermione stood in shock, now understanding what the hat had alluded to earlier. He didn't want to just be her hat, he want to have sex with her head! Oh, no, not only with your head! The hat rasped out between groans, I want to make love to your mind as well! Hermione began to feel a soft tingle run down her body, then build into a warm heat between her legs. Yes, Hermione, the hat purred into her mind Oh, yes, you enjoy that thought, don't you? The sensation between her legs grew into a burning, and she began to remove her clothes. She slipped quickly out of her robes, unfastened her bra, then slipped her satin panties down her legs and kicked them across the room. Mmm, black panties, yes. I've always been partial to that color! The hat continued his grinding motions atop her head, groaning softly with each thrust. Hermione's breath quickened as she lowered herself onto the bed, and then reached to close the curtains around the bed. Touch your breasts! The hat rasped as lay down atop the sheets. Without questioning, she began to trace her breasts lightly with her hands, running her fingers across them until her nipples stiffened from the touch. Squeeze a nipple for me! The hat sighed in pleasure as she obeyed his command, and then directed her to move a hand down her stomach, down to the throbbing moist mound between her legs. Stroke yourself, Hermione. The hat cooed to her. Stroke yourself as I stroke myself against your head! The hat slowed his thrusts, and they completed their movements in unison. Hermione gave a raspy sigh as the hat began to quicken his movements, and she began to thrust her hips against her hand, moaning louder as she kept pace with his increasing gyrations atop her head. A shock of electricity ran through her body as the hat rubbed himself vigorously across her head. She screamed out in to him as she felt her body explode into orgasm. Oh, God the hat sung out:
The deeds been done
My songs been sung
To no lovelier head that yours
Have I sung such song before
In fact, you're the first
Whose allowed me to burst
A stitch of my felt,
And now it's been dealt,
Upon your head I'll lay my strife
For you are now the Sorting Hat's Wife!
Hermione gingerly removed the hat from her head and placed him upon her chest, looking him lovingly in the eyes.
"Was it as good for you?" The hat purred into her cheek, rubbing the tip of his hat against her now wildly disheveled hair.
"It was amazing" she sighed into his brim, then gave him a tender kiss upon his mouth.
"So," the Sorting Hat straightened himself, "I suppose it would be fine if I were to stop by and see you every now and again."
"Anytime you like, Mr. Hat." The Sorting Hat let out a long, high whistle, and Fawkes flew through the fireplace and grabbed him roughly by the brim.
"I'll be back soon, then, Mrs. Hat!" he called out, as he flew back through the fireplace. Hermione reached out to grab her brush from the nightstand, and began to brush the tangles and pieces of felt from her hair.