Sweet Chastity's Decay
Apr. 20th, 2009 10:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
darkrivertempestSummary: Set during OotP. Dolores Umbridge has just taken over the position of Headmistress at Hogwarts, planning to change everything, including the flagrant flirtatious behavior of the hormonal student body. But as she achieves her goal, even she doesn't realize the far-reaching consequences of her spell... or the effects it has of a most unpredicted nature.
Warnings: Spoilers for Order of the Phoenix
Rated: NC17 - They're hormonal teengagers... what do you think will happen, hmm?
Pairing: Draco and Hermione
It really was quite intolerable.
To think that a school with the prestige of Hogwarts, though with a questionable former Headmaster, would allow public displays of affection? How scandalous! Dumbledore should have put a stop to the inappropriate behavior the moment it presented itself. The lack of his response just proved how unfit he was to remain as Headmaster. The Head Minister, Cornelius Fudge, was definitely within his right to remove the doddering fool.
These thoughts and more sped through the perfectly coiffed head of Dolores Umbridge, current Headmistress of Hogwarts, as she straightened another of her precious kitten plates lining the walls of her pink office. She’d only been in her position one day so far, but she’d seen much that needed improving upon, especially if she was to bring the school back to Ministry standards. With Dumbledore finally out of the way, she was free to institute any changes necessary to bring about a more work-conducive environment, barring any subversive activities by his followers.
It would also allow her to weed out the more unsavory inhabitants of the grounds to include the imbecilic Trelawney, the no-account half-breed Hagrid, and to finally rid the Forbidden Forest of the disgusting Centaurs. Fingering the locket she’d obtained from that filthy little thief, Mundungus Fletcher, she contemplated what her first edict should be as Headmistress while finally slipping the small charm beneath her blouse.
“I see my influence at the Ministry has not gone amiss,” drawled a snide voice near the entrance to her office.
“Lucius! How good of you to stop by. Would you like some tea?” Umbridge tittered in her high-pitched saccharine voice.
Bowing slightly, Lucius Malfoy stepped into the completely pink room, somewhat startled by the ghastly shade of mauve, but he was quick to keep his disdain hidden. Approaching the mahogany desk, he gingerly lowered himself onto a rose chintz chair and sat back, his eyes roaming the walls and observing the abrupt change in the office. Though he loathed admitting it, Dumbledore at least had better taste than the gaudy candyfloss color that now adorned the chamber.
“Lemon only, please,” he stated as she picked up a sugar cube with the dainty tongs.
Swerving her aim from the sugar, she selected a rather anemic looking lemon wedge and plopped it in the brown liquid and handed it over to him. “I’m so glad you could stop by. I’ve been meaning to speak to you for some time about your son, Draco.”
Halting his cup halfway to his lips, Lucius narrowed his eyes. “Are his grades not improving? I warned him I wouldn’t tolerate this slack behavior on his part, not with that Mud-erm, Muggle-born Granger breathing down his neck.”
She waved away his concern with a pinched smile. “No, his marks are now the highest in the school, second only to Hermione Granger. It seems your promised threat was just the thing to motivate him.”
“Then, pray tell, what is your concern regarding my son?”
Looking conspiratorially to the left and right, she leaned over the desk and whispered, “I caught him in a rather compromising situation not two days ago involving Miss Parkinson.”
“Really,” he intoned in a bored manner. “And that ‘compromising situation’ consisted of what, exactly?”
Her face turned a shade of pink, and for a moment, Lucius thought she might blend in with the background. “They were snogging in a darkened alcove. I believe they would’ve continued to other activities if I hadn’t happened upon them.”
Snorting, he relaxed into his seat, balancing the cup and saucer on one crossed knee. “Dolores, you do realize you have a school full of hormonal teenagers, right?”
“I never acted in such a manner, then or now!” she squealed in outrage.
“I have no doubt of that,” he mumbled low enough so she wouldn’t hear him. “Yes, well, I think-”
“And just yesterday,” she continued, cutting him off as if he’d said nothing. “I caught a Ravenclaw and a Gryffindor-” She patted her chest as if she had the vapors. “-holding hands!” she gasped.
Lucius stared at her incredulously. “Surely you’re jesting about-”
“Yes, that’s right! Holding hands. I’m just as shocked as you are!”
Grimacing with irritation, Malfoy drained the last of his tea before he rose, the kittens screeching becoming louder the shriller Umbridge sounded. “Madame, if you think to curtail the urges of a multitude of adolescents, then you’ve sorely underestimated your opponent.”
“On the contrary, Mister Malfoy, I think I know a way of restraining the baser needs of the children,” she said with a gleam in her eye. “One only needs the proper spell.”
Stopping his progress towards the office door, he turned slowly to glare upon her constantly smiling face. “Take care you use no spell against my son, Dolores. For if you do, it’ll be the last spell you cast… regardless of your position with Fudge.”
Slowly rising from her seat, she picked at a stray piece of lint on her lilac dress. “Are you threatening me, Lucius?” she asked a little too sweetly.
“Madame, make no mistake. I in no way threaten,” he intoned, continuing on his way to the door, only to stop and turn after he opened it, pinning her with an icy stare. “I promise retribution the likes you have never witnessed if you meddle with my family.” He inclined his head. “Good day, Umbridge.”
Jumping slightly as the door slammed shut, she pulled herself back to her unruffled state and moved around the desk to glance over some of the older spell books resting on her immaculate shelves. “Retribution, indeed,” she muttered, perusing the titles for a specific volume that included the centuries old spell she thought would best fit the situation she was faced with. “Ah! Here we are.”
Tipping the book back, she pulled on the leather-bound tome until it released itself from its permanent place in the far corner on the furthest oaken shelf. Carefully, she turned each fragile parchment page, scanning the ancient spells contained within.
“Ah, yes… this one should do quite nicely.”
She never noticed the soft glow of the locket hanging from her thick neck.
~*~
“Draco, we’re… oh, Merlin yes! We’re gonna get caught again,” Pansy panted as her Slytherin lover thrust into her.
Grabbing the back of her thighs, Draco hoisted them around his waist so he could achieve maximum depth with every plunge into her wet quim. “If you’d only shut that hole in your face, we wouldn’t have been caught last time.” He scowled as his hips shifted with strain. “Sod all, Pansy, did you eat the entire Halloween buffet?”
Pinning him with an evil smirk, she squeezed her legs around his thin middle. “You know what they say, lover… more cushion for the pushin’.”
“A cushion, Pansy… not a fucking couch!” Draco huffed, his face tinged red with exertion. Even pressed against the cold stone wall as she was, it wasn’t enough leverage for him do more than pump shallowly because of his grip on her bum, frightened he would buckle under the strain and drop her… and possibly break his penis in the process.
“You’re an arse!” she hissed, trying to gain more friction.
Unable to bear her weight any longer, he withdrew all the way and let her slump to the floor, stroking himself to completion as she watched him spurt thick ropes of cum all over her fashionable robes. Once his equilibrium returned, he performed a quick Scourgify charm then tucked himself back into his dress slacks.
“What about me?” she whined petulantly, crossing her arms over the breasts that were spilling out of her bra.
Casting a glance at her state of undress, he sniffed with disdain and muttered another cleansing charm, hoping she wouldn’t ask him to finish her off, not that he’d indulge her anyway. When her scowl deepened, it was clear she expected him to do more than rid her of his spendings.
“What?” he groused, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. “You nearly gave me a hernia, Pansy. I’m not about to reward you for that.”
“You insufferable prat!” she yelled, getting to her feet, uncaring if anyone found them at this point.
Clamping a hand over her mouth, he shoved her against the stone wall, hissing in her ear. “Shut. Your. Bloody. GOB!”
Struggling was useless, even though his frame was slight; it held great power when he cornered someone, especially if he meant him or her harm. Try as she might, she couldn’t pry his fingers from her lips, finally resorting to kicking his shin to let her go.
“Ow! You worthless bint!” he snarled, hopping up and down on one leg as he gripped the injured limb.
“Apparently not worthless enough for you to continue shagging,” she countered, moving away, but not before she gave him a resounding slap across the cheek.
“OW!”
His stunned expression must’ve also revealed deadly intent, for she starting walking backwards towards the Slytherin dungeon, issuing her own threat as she retreated down the dark corridor. “Some day, Draco, you won’t be able to take a poke at anyone, except a Mudblood!”
“That’ll be the day!” he shouted to her disappearing form, holding his cheek. “Manky minge,” he muttered, rubbing his aching leg.
Swiping a hand through his blond locks, he straightened his tie and flicked an imaginary piece of dust off his robes, narrowing his eyes as he scanned the area around him for some nosey parker foolish enough to be snooping.
“The day I fall for a Mudblood is the day I cease being a Malfoy,” he growled as he grabbed his satchel of books, heading for the Great Hall and a sumptuous feast.
~*~
The roaring fire in the Gryffindor common room warmed the occupants on the dreary, autumn evening as Ron, Hermione, and Harry worked on their Astronomy assignment as best they could without the benefit of the tower platform. For once, Harry had actually made an effort to use the observation deck in the tower to study the constellation of Sagittarius, though Ron’s lack of interest came as no surprise. Unless the subject involved Quidditch, food, or general slacking off, Ron was usually unfocused.
Tonight, however, Hermione refused to let him or Harry get away without studying for at least an hour before their evening meal. Reclined with her back against the arm of the overstuffed sofa, she quizzed the boys with questions she deduced would be on the test, ignoring their agitation and impatience to get to dinner.
“Between which two constellations does Sagittarius lie?”
“Orpheus is one of them, right?” Harry answered, hoping it was correct so she would at least let him leave.
She looked up from her parchment. “Close. Orpheus is the son of the god Apollo.” Turning her gaze to Ron, she lifted her brows in expectation.
But he wasn’t paying any attention to her. Instead, his eyes were riveted to her lap where she’d lifted the hem of her skirt to scratch her knee. Seeing his pupils dilate, she stopped and withdrew her hand, tucking her arms beneath her chest… which, to no surprise, brought his gaze to her breasts.
“Ron?” she asked, hoping he’d divert his gaze.
“Hmm?” he murmured as a languid expression covered his face.
For his part, Harry remained silent, though he desperately wanted his best friends to finally do something about the growing attraction between them. “Ophiuchus and Capricornus?” he offered a few moments later when neither of the two seemed inclined to say anything.
Snapping out of her private gauzy, dream-like state, Hermione blinked and turned her attention to Harry. “Correct,” she confirmed with a smile. “It seems you’ve been studying.”
“Not really. I was just tired of waiting to eat and I took the opportunity to glance at your answers when the parchment drifted low,” he confessed with a smirk.
Her eyes narrowed. “I think I would’ve noticed if I relaxed my hold on the parchment,” she sniffed primly.
Chuckling, he stood, bringing Ron out of his stupor. “Well, you didn’t, and I’m hungry. Are you coming?” he pointedly asked both of them.
Ron’s stomach answered for him. “Yeah, mate, meet you there. I just gotta get something,” he said, tripping over his feet on the way towards the staircase.
“And you?” Harry asked their brainy friend, who was currently huffing as she shoved her study materials into her school bag.
“You know,” she started, growling in her throat when she broke an expensive quill. “I won’t be able to help you with this test, Harry. For some reason, Umbridge has decreed that Muggle-born’s are to start attending separate classes from Purebloods. Two of my courses have already been changed to different times of the day than yours,” she muttered, sadness lacing her voice.
“When did this happen?” Ron asked, having returned from his bedchamber, clearly offended on her behalf.
A suspicious sniff sounded before she could conceal a stray tear. “Today, almost the moment she took Dumbledore’s position.”
“That’s bloody segregation!” Harry groused, furious with the evil harridan. “Next thing you know, she’ll let Voldemort in through the front door to kill us all.”
“I wouldn’t put it past the barmy hag.” Ron moved past the sofa to gather Hermione in a hug.
The moment he embraced her, she broke down into gulping sobs. “I’m just so tired of the hatred.”
Laying his cheek against her mop of curls, Ron closed his eyes and murmured nonsensical things to soothe her, rocking slowly from side to side in a comforting manner. Harry moved to join them in a group hug, but both boys froze when they heard her soft words.
“Maybe it would’ve been better if I’d never been born.”
It was Ron’s breaking point. Releasing his grip, he reached up and cupped her face, bringing it close to his so that she was forced to look in him the eye.
“You listen to me, Hermione Granger,” he pressed, watching her brows furrow in confusion. “One hair on your head is worth more than a thousand Purebloods.”
“But I-”
Her words ceased the moment he gathered his courage and laid his lips against hers in a sweet, chaste kiss, full of meaning and unresolved longing. He continued kissing her until he heard a discreet cough off to his right.
“`Bout bloody time, you git,” Harry kidded, good-naturedly.
All three laughed as the tension eased considerably, drawing each other into a group hug once more until Ron’s stomach protested loudly. Grinning sheepishly, he straightened and pulled his best friends with him out of the Gryffindor common room, heading to the Great Hall for some much needed sustenance.
~*~
“You called for me, Headmistress?” Severus Snape drawled once he stood in front of Umbridge’s desk.
“Ah, Professor Snape! How good of you to be so prompt.”
“Would I be otherwise?”
This earned him a highly arched, thinly shaped brow in return. “As a matter of record, may I remind you that you were late to several classes and caused points to be subtracted from Slytherin?”
If he were the gaping sort, he would’ve done so at that moment. “In nineteen seventy-seven?”
“One must always strive for punctuality,” she advised as she finished scribbling on a piece of parchment, finally handing the paper to Snape. “I require these ingredients and a Carnelian cauldron, please.”
Looking over the list, his mind quickly made a mental catalog of possible uses for each item, frowning when he came to a dubious conclusion. “You wish to conjure a-”
“Tut, tut, professor. I need these rather quickly,” she interrupted, refusing him to give voice to what she was planning to do.
He looked at the list with a frown. “What kind of Chili pepper do you require?”
“The stronger, the better.”
“And in what dosage do you wish to administer the ‘potion’?”
She thought for a moment, calculating the whole of the student body. “Seven and a half gallons, professor.”
This time, he did gape. “That will deplete my stores of Knotweed!”
“You may restock your supplies at the next full moon, which I believe is in three days, am I not correct?”
Clenching his hands behind his back, he pursed his lips, trying desperately not to verbally lash out at the woman who looked as if she was on a constant infusion of Pepper-up potion. “Yes, Headmistress,” he hissed. “However, I must inform you,” he paused for a moment and glanced once more at the list. “The only Agaric I currently have in stock is Omphalotus Illudens.”
“Well then, it seems you have everything,” she said with a sweet smile.
Snape resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her ignorance. “If by everything, you mean I have the ingredients to kill the entire student body, then yes… I have everything.”
A frown puckered her brow as she pouted. “Oh dear, that won’t do. Is there an alternative?”
“It would help to know the specific potion you wish to create,” he suggested, trying to lure her into revealing the exact nature of the spell she wished to perform, since Occlumency would’ve been too noticeable. “All these ingredients have at least three things in common.”
“Do they?” she mused innocently. Instead of rising to his bait, she stood and crossed to a book lying open on a pedestal, scanning the pages until she squeaked with barely contained excitement. “I seem to recall when I arrived that there were several fairy-rings just outside the castle walls.”
His eyebrows rose to his greasy hairline. “Marasmius Oreades? You wish to use fairy-ring mushrooms in your potion?”
Cocking her head slightly, her gaze became unnervingly foul, as if she were staring at the most disgusting thing in the world. “They’re part of the Agaric family, and are quite edible, are they not?”
“Yes,” he said hesitantly. “Though you might consider-”
“I want the Marasmius Oreades,” she ordered in her highly pitched voice, causing him to shudder internally. “Obtain them, or I shall find someone more qualified for the task.”
Bowing curtly from the waist, Snape exited the chamber, well aware of the thinly veiled threat to have him replaced should he fail to obey her commands.
~*~
Trusting no one but herself to concoct the brew, Dolores Umbridge sprinkled camphor, hawthorn, and sweetpea into the cauldron provided by the potions’ master, momentarily looking at the page containing the exact order to boil the ingredients, chanting in Welsh as the dusty tome instructed.
“Ddiweirdeb ag pawb eithria 'ch ddetholedig hun.” Chastity with all except the chosen one.
Adding the chili pepper, licorice, and magnolia blossoms, she continued. “D 'n deyrngarol ond at 'ch chychwïor.” Remain loyal only to the mate.
Finally, she heaped several scoops each of banana seeds, myrtle, and the fairy-ring mushrooms, into the blood-red pot, stirring clockwise. “'R aeronen chan 'r bru 'n reddfol ag cara.” The fruit of the womb takes root with love.
Once the last vestiges of myrtle had liquefied, Umbridge took three cultured pearls and one dark-blue sapphire, dropping them into the simmering mixture, which flashed a brilliant pink light from the kettle. Smiling, she snipped off several vines of ivy from her healthy potted plant and clipped a twig from a juniper bush outside of her chamber window, adding them to the concoction.
With the last of Snape’s Knotweed, she completed the potion, never noticing the intense light glowing from the locket beneath her blouse. “Caethiwa 'r ddetholedig 'n ddau achos byth>” Bind the chosen two for eternity.
Peering into the cauldron, she squealed like a little girl and summoned a house elf. “Dangleberry?”
A slight whoosh preceded the tiny being before she appeared, dressed only in an apron that read, ‘Don’t Make Me Poison Your Dinner’. “Yes, Mistress?” she asked, shaking all over.
“What is the main course this evening?” Umbridge inquired as she began ladling the aromatic goop into several glass jars.
“Chicken curry, I believe, Mistress,” the tiny thing answered, desperate to be back in the kitchens.
“Ah, good.” Handing all the jars but one to the elf, she bent low and stared fiercely at the poor creature. “Add this sauce to the curry paste before cooking, but only for the student’s meals. The professors’ food should remain untouched.”
Studying the frothy glop, Dangleberry nodded hesitantly and disappeared; glad to be out of the Headmistress’ presence.
Straightening, Dolores returned to the pedestal and closed the book under heavy protection spells, giggling to herself that whoever was foolish enough to try and break the wards on the tome would get what they deserved. She then checked her immovable hair in the mirror and, pleased the copied image smiled so serenely, she blew it a kiss. Heading past the oaken door, she made her way to the Great Hall, proud of her latest achievement.
~*~
“Dangleberry, what is this?” the head chef elf demanded, pointing at the now orange liquid in the jars before him.
The scrawny elf covered her head with her arms as she approached him. “Mistress wants it added to the curry.”
Screwing off the lid, Flambé sniffed at the contents. “Doesn’t smell bad,” he thought aloud, about to dip his finger inside for a taste, but was stopped suddenly by the female elf’s shriek.
“No! Umbridge wants the school to have it, not House Elves! She will find out if you taste it.”
“Harrumph,” Flambé muttered, tossing the mess into the largest kettle that was boiling. He continued until the last jar was emptied. “There. Gather the dishes and prepare them for delivery.”
Watching him depart, she sighed in relief as she scooped rice and curried chicken into several large serving bowls, sincerely hoping she fulfilled the Mistress’ wishes properly.
She never saw the self-warming plate full of curried chicken head off to the professor’s table.
~*~
“Merlin, I’m beyond peckish!” Ron exclaimed as he sat on the wood bench next to Hermione while Harry sat on her left.
“You’re always beyond peckish, mate,” Harry teased. He sobered somewhat as he glanced across the hall towards the Slytherin table, and the smirking Malfoy, who was waggling his eyebrows mockingly at him.
Catching Harry’s stare, Hermione glanced at Draco just in time to see him mouth the word, ‘Mudblood’. Narrowing her eyes, she returned the favor. ‘Ferret’.
As Umbridge approached the dais to give her little speech, Draco ran a slender finger across the length of his throat, making sure Hermione saw it. Then he smiled maliciously and turned to Crabbe who was whispering something in his ear.
“Students! Let me take this opportunity to say how pleased I am that we can finally get on with the business of running a proper school,” Umbridge intoned loudly, startling everyone. “Some of you will notice slight changes in your curriculum schedule, but I assure you, this is no cause for alarm. The changes allow for a better grasp of certain subjects.”
“I’ve already taken Muggle Studies,” Hermione muttered under her breath as the Headmistress continued.
“Also, let me remind you, any student caught chewing Bubble-Wrap pop gum will be summarily dismissed without further cause,” she warned, ending with a prim little laugh.
“Bog troll,” the redheaded twins groused in unison. “That was one of our best inventions,” Fred complained.
Eyeing the tables, Umbridge tallied the population within the hall and came to the conclusion that every single student - bar some prefects that were already uptight arseholes – was sitting before her. Smiling to herself, she mentally patted herself on the back at her genius in enforcing that pupils remained a discrete distance from each other, for it was highly improbable that a chosen mate would be among the other students… right?
Shrugging off her minor uncertainty, she continued with the announcements. “Those of you wishing to join the Inquisitorial Squad for extra credit may sign up in my office.”
Of course this filled most of the Slytherin table with unrepressed glee, for there were numerous conversations that broke out, Malfoy’s voice being the loudest.
“Finally get to put the screws to those goody two-shoes Gryffindors,” he laughed nastily. “I don’t need the extra credit when I’m given free reign to Stupefy a Mudblood.”
A chill ran up Hermione’s spine upon hearing his promised threat, knowing she’d have to double her vigilance in order to stay out of harm’s way while comforted somewhat by Ron’s hand in hers. Further conversation was halted, however, when their food magically appeared, filling the hall with savory goodness that made everyone’s mouth water.
Instead of returning to the dais where the other professors sat during dinner, Umbridge returned to her office to go over the spell once more, making sure every instruction was followed precisely. It was unusual for her to have even the slightest inkling of doubt regarding a spell she’d conjured or a potion she’d mixed, but for some unknown reason, this potion made her hesitate over her abilities.
She ensconced herself in her chamber for the rest of the evening, pouring over books and ancient scrolls as she nibbled on toast, never touching that evening’s meal.
~*~
“That was the best curry I’ve had in ages,” Harry sighed with a loud belch, causing those around him to giggle.
In fact, every person had double helpings of the spicy chicken dish, including the professors. Glancing around, he noticed several classmates fanning themselves from the intensity; their face’s sweaty and red, including Malfoy’s. His was the most amusing shade of mottled pink Harry had ever seen.
Pouring his fourth glass of pumpkin juice, Harry gulped it down like a man that’d been trapped for several days in the desert, watching the other students do much the same thing. Finishing, he belched again and got up from the table, innocently leaning into Hermione as he did so. A fiery heat crawled up his shoulder where his body touched hers, so debilitating with pain that both he and his friend cried out in agony.
“Merlin, Harry!” Hermione gasped as she winced and grabbed her arm. “Have you been working with the Cinnemoxie solution again?”
Clutching his bicep, he ground out, “I’ve not gone near that stuff since last year, once was enough, thank you very much.”
“What’s wrong with you two?” Ron asked with a frown, laying his hand on Hermione’s, which promptly began to feel like his skin was ablaze.
With a knee-jerk reaction, both withdrew their hands, Hermione cradling her own against her chest while Ron sucked on his near-blistered fingers. They stared at each other until they noticed several other students were having the same difficulty and a frantic Ernie Macmillan was running down the length of the Hall, his fingers actually smoking.
“Bloody hell! What’s happening?” Ron asked in astonishment as Seamus Finnigan jumped up and started patting his lips, blisters forming around his mouth where he’d just kissed Vicky Frobisher.
“Students!” McGonagall shouted as loudly as she could. Seeing the room settle, she continued. “Prefects, accompany your housemates to their common rooms. We’ll be along shortly to discuss tonight’s events in greater detail.” As an afterthought, she added, “And for Merlin’s sake, don’t touch anyone!”
~*~
Arriving at the Gryffindor common room was harder than expected, as it was near impossible not to brush up against someone on the journey to the portrait portal, but Hermione was keenly observant the entire time.
“It doesn’t happen if I touch Ginny or Parvati,” she whispered to the boys. “I also noticed Neville stumble and bump into Colin, but nothing happened.”
Sitting off in their own little corner of the room, the trio tried to come up with a reasonable explanation as to why human contact made their bodies want to start up in conflagration, as Hermione scooted away from the boys before they could accidentally touch her.
Quietly pondering what could possibly be the cause of such a reaction, she began feeling odd, shifting her bum as if she were perched on a rock, trying to find a more comfortable position. A moment later, if felt as if the lower half of her body had been dipped in ice water and then suddenly removed, the chill centering around her abdomen. Lifting the bottom of her shirt, she laid her palm against her bare flesh, progressing lower until her fingers hit… metal.
“Hermione, please… if you have any feelings for me, you’ll stop,” Ron whimpered as he watched her hand delve below the waistband of her skirt.
Unaware of what she was doing, she abruptly withdrew her hand and quickly stood. “I-I need to go… to the loo,” she stuttered, unsure of how to move or walk about.
Harry frowned in confusion. “Then go, Hermione… you don’t need our permission.”
“What? Oh! Yes… right,” she chuckled hollowly, sprinting off towards her room.
“I thought she had to go to the loo?” Harry asked, wondering why she headed to the dorms instead of the bathroom.
“Mental that one, I tell ya,” Ron said as a soft smile spread over his face. “But I wouldn’t trade her for the world.”
Alone in the dorm, Hermione shucked her skirt and stared, aghast at the contraption now enveloping her pelvic area. Poking a finger at the device, she realized it was a flexible metal, allowing the person to move freely like a set of cotton knickers… only not. Walking over to the full-length mirror, she turned to see how far it encompassed her body, her jaw hanging open in shock at what she beheld.
A chastity belt!
Warnings: Spoilers for Order of the Phoenix
Rated: NC17 - They're hormonal teengagers... what do you think will happen, hmm?
Pairing: Draco and Hermione
This was the brainchild of ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
imbloodyenglish after a night of reading several chapters of Wildcat's 'Out of Control'. She gave me an idea, I went to visit her for a brainstorming session and POOF! Here be the story! Also, for the sake of the story, Umbridge already has the Slytherin locket. (it is widely thought she had it during her reign at Hogwarts, so I'm going with that)
*JK ROWLING OWNS EVERYTHING... except my story, which is blessedly mine. There shall be no suing of the poor, penniless writer just because I happen to lust- erm, I mean LIKE Draco.*
It really was quite intolerable.
To think that a school with the prestige of Hogwarts, though with a questionable former Headmaster, would allow public displays of affection? How scandalous! Dumbledore should have put a stop to the inappropriate behavior the moment it presented itself. The lack of his response just proved how unfit he was to remain as Headmaster. The Head Minister, Cornelius Fudge, was definitely within his right to remove the doddering fool.
These thoughts and more sped through the perfectly coiffed head of Dolores Umbridge, current Headmistress of Hogwarts, as she straightened another of her precious kitten plates lining the walls of her pink office. She’d only been in her position one day so far, but she’d seen much that needed improving upon, especially if she was to bring the school back to Ministry standards. With Dumbledore finally out of the way, she was free to institute any changes necessary to bring about a more work-conducive environment, barring any subversive activities by his followers.
It would also allow her to weed out the more unsavory inhabitants of the grounds to include the imbecilic Trelawney, the no-account half-breed Hagrid, and to finally rid the Forbidden Forest of the disgusting Centaurs. Fingering the locket she’d obtained from that filthy little thief, Mundungus Fletcher, she contemplated what her first edict should be as Headmistress while finally slipping the small charm beneath her blouse.
“I see my influence at the Ministry has not gone amiss,” drawled a snide voice near the entrance to her office.
“Lucius! How good of you to stop by. Would you like some tea?” Umbridge tittered in her high-pitched saccharine voice.
Bowing slightly, Lucius Malfoy stepped into the completely pink room, somewhat startled by the ghastly shade of mauve, but he was quick to keep his disdain hidden. Approaching the mahogany desk, he gingerly lowered himself onto a rose chintz chair and sat back, his eyes roaming the walls and observing the abrupt change in the office. Though he loathed admitting it, Dumbledore at least had better taste than the gaudy candyfloss color that now adorned the chamber.
“Lemon only, please,” he stated as she picked up a sugar cube with the dainty tongs.
Swerving her aim from the sugar, she selected a rather anemic looking lemon wedge and plopped it in the brown liquid and handed it over to him. “I’m so glad you could stop by. I’ve been meaning to speak to you for some time about your son, Draco.”
Halting his cup halfway to his lips, Lucius narrowed his eyes. “Are his grades not improving? I warned him I wouldn’t tolerate this slack behavior on his part, not with that Mud-erm, Muggle-born Granger breathing down his neck.”
She waved away his concern with a pinched smile. “No, his marks are now the highest in the school, second only to Hermione Granger. It seems your promised threat was just the thing to motivate him.”
“Then, pray tell, what is your concern regarding my son?”
Looking conspiratorially to the left and right, she leaned over the desk and whispered, “I caught him in a rather compromising situation not two days ago involving Miss Parkinson.”
“Really,” he intoned in a bored manner. “And that ‘compromising situation’ consisted of what, exactly?”
Her face turned a shade of pink, and for a moment, Lucius thought she might blend in with the background. “They were snogging in a darkened alcove. I believe they would’ve continued to other activities if I hadn’t happened upon them.”
Snorting, he relaxed into his seat, balancing the cup and saucer on one crossed knee. “Dolores, you do realize you have a school full of hormonal teenagers, right?”
“I never acted in such a manner, then or now!” she squealed in outrage.
“I have no doubt of that,” he mumbled low enough so she wouldn’t hear him. “Yes, well, I think-”
“And just yesterday,” she continued, cutting him off as if he’d said nothing. “I caught a Ravenclaw and a Gryffindor-” She patted her chest as if she had the vapors. “-holding hands!” she gasped.
Lucius stared at her incredulously. “Surely you’re jesting about-”
“Yes, that’s right! Holding hands. I’m just as shocked as you are!”
Grimacing with irritation, Malfoy drained the last of his tea before he rose, the kittens screeching becoming louder the shriller Umbridge sounded. “Madame, if you think to curtail the urges of a multitude of adolescents, then you’ve sorely underestimated your opponent.”
“On the contrary, Mister Malfoy, I think I know a way of restraining the baser needs of the children,” she said with a gleam in her eye. “One only needs the proper spell.”
Stopping his progress towards the office door, he turned slowly to glare upon her constantly smiling face. “Take care you use no spell against my son, Dolores. For if you do, it’ll be the last spell you cast… regardless of your position with Fudge.”
Slowly rising from her seat, she picked at a stray piece of lint on her lilac dress. “Are you threatening me, Lucius?” she asked a little too sweetly.
“Madame, make no mistake. I in no way threaten,” he intoned, continuing on his way to the door, only to stop and turn after he opened it, pinning her with an icy stare. “I promise retribution the likes you have never witnessed if you meddle with my family.” He inclined his head. “Good day, Umbridge.”
Jumping slightly as the door slammed shut, she pulled herself back to her unruffled state and moved around the desk to glance over some of the older spell books resting on her immaculate shelves. “Retribution, indeed,” she muttered, perusing the titles for a specific volume that included the centuries old spell she thought would best fit the situation she was faced with. “Ah! Here we are.”
Tipping the book back, she pulled on the leather-bound tome until it released itself from its permanent place in the far corner on the furthest oaken shelf. Carefully, she turned each fragile parchment page, scanning the ancient spells contained within.
“Ah, yes… this one should do quite nicely.”
She never noticed the soft glow of the locket hanging from her thick neck.
~*~
“Draco, we’re… oh, Merlin yes! We’re gonna get caught again,” Pansy panted as her Slytherin lover thrust into her.
Grabbing the back of her thighs, Draco hoisted them around his waist so he could achieve maximum depth with every plunge into her wet quim. “If you’d only shut that hole in your face, we wouldn’t have been caught last time.” He scowled as his hips shifted with strain. “Sod all, Pansy, did you eat the entire Halloween buffet?”
Pinning him with an evil smirk, she squeezed her legs around his thin middle. “You know what they say, lover… more cushion for the pushin’.”
“A cushion, Pansy… not a fucking couch!” Draco huffed, his face tinged red with exertion. Even pressed against the cold stone wall as she was, it wasn’t enough leverage for him do more than pump shallowly because of his grip on her bum, frightened he would buckle under the strain and drop her… and possibly break his penis in the process.
“You’re an arse!” she hissed, trying to gain more friction.
Unable to bear her weight any longer, he withdrew all the way and let her slump to the floor, stroking himself to completion as she watched him spurt thick ropes of cum all over her fashionable robes. Once his equilibrium returned, he performed a quick Scourgify charm then tucked himself back into his dress slacks.
“What about me?” she whined petulantly, crossing her arms over the breasts that were spilling out of her bra.
Casting a glance at her state of undress, he sniffed with disdain and muttered another cleansing charm, hoping she wouldn’t ask him to finish her off, not that he’d indulge her anyway. When her scowl deepened, it was clear she expected him to do more than rid her of his spendings.
“What?” he groused, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. “You nearly gave me a hernia, Pansy. I’m not about to reward you for that.”
“You insufferable prat!” she yelled, getting to her feet, uncaring if anyone found them at this point.
Clamping a hand over her mouth, he shoved her against the stone wall, hissing in her ear. “Shut. Your. Bloody. GOB!”
Struggling was useless, even though his frame was slight; it held great power when he cornered someone, especially if he meant him or her harm. Try as she might, she couldn’t pry his fingers from her lips, finally resorting to kicking his shin to let her go.
“Ow! You worthless bint!” he snarled, hopping up and down on one leg as he gripped the injured limb.
“Apparently not worthless enough for you to continue shagging,” she countered, moving away, but not before she gave him a resounding slap across the cheek.
“OW!”
His stunned expression must’ve also revealed deadly intent, for she starting walking backwards towards the Slytherin dungeon, issuing her own threat as she retreated down the dark corridor. “Some day, Draco, you won’t be able to take a poke at anyone, except a Mudblood!”
“That’ll be the day!” he shouted to her disappearing form, holding his cheek. “Manky minge,” he muttered, rubbing his aching leg.
Swiping a hand through his blond locks, he straightened his tie and flicked an imaginary piece of dust off his robes, narrowing his eyes as he scanned the area around him for some nosey parker foolish enough to be snooping.
“The day I fall for a Mudblood is the day I cease being a Malfoy,” he growled as he grabbed his satchel of books, heading for the Great Hall and a sumptuous feast.
~*~
The roaring fire in the Gryffindor common room warmed the occupants on the dreary, autumn evening as Ron, Hermione, and Harry worked on their Astronomy assignment as best they could without the benefit of the tower platform. For once, Harry had actually made an effort to use the observation deck in the tower to study the constellation of Sagittarius, though Ron’s lack of interest came as no surprise. Unless the subject involved Quidditch, food, or general slacking off, Ron was usually unfocused.
Tonight, however, Hermione refused to let him or Harry get away without studying for at least an hour before their evening meal. Reclined with her back against the arm of the overstuffed sofa, she quizzed the boys with questions she deduced would be on the test, ignoring their agitation and impatience to get to dinner.
“Between which two constellations does Sagittarius lie?”
“Orpheus is one of them, right?” Harry answered, hoping it was correct so she would at least let him leave.
She looked up from her parchment. “Close. Orpheus is the son of the god Apollo.” Turning her gaze to Ron, she lifted her brows in expectation.
But he wasn’t paying any attention to her. Instead, his eyes were riveted to her lap where she’d lifted the hem of her skirt to scratch her knee. Seeing his pupils dilate, she stopped and withdrew her hand, tucking her arms beneath her chest… which, to no surprise, brought his gaze to her breasts.
“Ron?” she asked, hoping he’d divert his gaze.
“Hmm?” he murmured as a languid expression covered his face.
For his part, Harry remained silent, though he desperately wanted his best friends to finally do something about the growing attraction between them. “Ophiuchus and Capricornus?” he offered a few moments later when neither of the two seemed inclined to say anything.
Snapping out of her private gauzy, dream-like state, Hermione blinked and turned her attention to Harry. “Correct,” she confirmed with a smile. “It seems you’ve been studying.”
“Not really. I was just tired of waiting to eat and I took the opportunity to glance at your answers when the parchment drifted low,” he confessed with a smirk.
Her eyes narrowed. “I think I would’ve noticed if I relaxed my hold on the parchment,” she sniffed primly.
Chuckling, he stood, bringing Ron out of his stupor. “Well, you didn’t, and I’m hungry. Are you coming?” he pointedly asked both of them.
Ron’s stomach answered for him. “Yeah, mate, meet you there. I just gotta get something,” he said, tripping over his feet on the way towards the staircase.
“And you?” Harry asked their brainy friend, who was currently huffing as she shoved her study materials into her school bag.
“You know,” she started, growling in her throat when she broke an expensive quill. “I won’t be able to help you with this test, Harry. For some reason, Umbridge has decreed that Muggle-born’s are to start attending separate classes from Purebloods. Two of my courses have already been changed to different times of the day than yours,” she muttered, sadness lacing her voice.
“When did this happen?” Ron asked, having returned from his bedchamber, clearly offended on her behalf.
A suspicious sniff sounded before she could conceal a stray tear. “Today, almost the moment she took Dumbledore’s position.”
“That’s bloody segregation!” Harry groused, furious with the evil harridan. “Next thing you know, she’ll let Voldemort in through the front door to kill us all.”
“I wouldn’t put it past the barmy hag.” Ron moved past the sofa to gather Hermione in a hug.
The moment he embraced her, she broke down into gulping sobs. “I’m just so tired of the hatred.”
Laying his cheek against her mop of curls, Ron closed his eyes and murmured nonsensical things to soothe her, rocking slowly from side to side in a comforting manner. Harry moved to join them in a group hug, but both boys froze when they heard her soft words.
“Maybe it would’ve been better if I’d never been born.”
It was Ron’s breaking point. Releasing his grip, he reached up and cupped her face, bringing it close to his so that she was forced to look in him the eye.
“You listen to me, Hermione Granger,” he pressed, watching her brows furrow in confusion. “One hair on your head is worth more than a thousand Purebloods.”
“But I-”
Her words ceased the moment he gathered his courage and laid his lips against hers in a sweet, chaste kiss, full of meaning and unresolved longing. He continued kissing her until he heard a discreet cough off to his right.
“`Bout bloody time, you git,” Harry kidded, good-naturedly.
All three laughed as the tension eased considerably, drawing each other into a group hug once more until Ron’s stomach protested loudly. Grinning sheepishly, he straightened and pulled his best friends with him out of the Gryffindor common room, heading to the Great Hall for some much needed sustenance.
~*~
“You called for me, Headmistress?” Severus Snape drawled once he stood in front of Umbridge’s desk.
“Ah, Professor Snape! How good of you to be so prompt.”
“Would I be otherwise?”
This earned him a highly arched, thinly shaped brow in return. “As a matter of record, may I remind you that you were late to several classes and caused points to be subtracted from Slytherin?”
If he were the gaping sort, he would’ve done so at that moment. “In nineteen seventy-seven?”
“One must always strive for punctuality,” she advised as she finished scribbling on a piece of parchment, finally handing the paper to Snape. “I require these ingredients and a Carnelian cauldron, please.”
Looking over the list, his mind quickly made a mental catalog of possible uses for each item, frowning when he came to a dubious conclusion. “You wish to conjure a-”
“Tut, tut, professor. I need these rather quickly,” she interrupted, refusing him to give voice to what she was planning to do.
He looked at the list with a frown. “What kind of Chili pepper do you require?”
“The stronger, the better.”
“And in what dosage do you wish to administer the ‘potion’?”
She thought for a moment, calculating the whole of the student body. “Seven and a half gallons, professor.”
This time, he did gape. “That will deplete my stores of Knotweed!”
“You may restock your supplies at the next full moon, which I believe is in three days, am I not correct?”
Clenching his hands behind his back, he pursed his lips, trying desperately not to verbally lash out at the woman who looked as if she was on a constant infusion of Pepper-up potion. “Yes, Headmistress,” he hissed. “However, I must inform you,” he paused for a moment and glanced once more at the list. “The only Agaric I currently have in stock is Omphalotus Illudens.”
“Well then, it seems you have everything,” she said with a sweet smile.
Snape resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her ignorance. “If by everything, you mean I have the ingredients to kill the entire student body, then yes… I have everything.”
A frown puckered her brow as she pouted. “Oh dear, that won’t do. Is there an alternative?”
“It would help to know the specific potion you wish to create,” he suggested, trying to lure her into revealing the exact nature of the spell she wished to perform, since Occlumency would’ve been too noticeable. “All these ingredients have at least three things in common.”
“Do they?” she mused innocently. Instead of rising to his bait, she stood and crossed to a book lying open on a pedestal, scanning the pages until she squeaked with barely contained excitement. “I seem to recall when I arrived that there were several fairy-rings just outside the castle walls.”
His eyebrows rose to his greasy hairline. “Marasmius Oreades? You wish to use fairy-ring mushrooms in your potion?”
Cocking her head slightly, her gaze became unnervingly foul, as if she were staring at the most disgusting thing in the world. “They’re part of the Agaric family, and are quite edible, are they not?”
“Yes,” he said hesitantly. “Though you might consider-”
“I want the Marasmius Oreades,” she ordered in her highly pitched voice, causing him to shudder internally. “Obtain them, or I shall find someone more qualified for the task.”
Bowing curtly from the waist, Snape exited the chamber, well aware of the thinly veiled threat to have him replaced should he fail to obey her commands.
~*~
Trusting no one but herself to concoct the brew, Dolores Umbridge sprinkled camphor, hawthorn, and sweetpea into the cauldron provided by the potions’ master, momentarily looking at the page containing the exact order to boil the ingredients, chanting in Welsh as the dusty tome instructed.
“Ddiweirdeb ag pawb eithria 'ch ddetholedig hun.” Chastity with all except the chosen one.
Adding the chili pepper, licorice, and magnolia blossoms, she continued. “D 'n deyrngarol ond at 'ch chychwïor.” Remain loyal only to the mate.
Finally, she heaped several scoops each of banana seeds, myrtle, and the fairy-ring mushrooms, into the blood-red pot, stirring clockwise. “'R aeronen chan 'r bru 'n reddfol ag cara.” The fruit of the womb takes root with love.
Once the last vestiges of myrtle had liquefied, Umbridge took three cultured pearls and one dark-blue sapphire, dropping them into the simmering mixture, which flashed a brilliant pink light from the kettle. Smiling, she snipped off several vines of ivy from her healthy potted plant and clipped a twig from a juniper bush outside of her chamber window, adding them to the concoction.
With the last of Snape’s Knotweed, she completed the potion, never noticing the intense light glowing from the locket beneath her blouse. “Caethiwa 'r ddetholedig 'n ddau achos byth>” Bind the chosen two for eternity.
Peering into the cauldron, she squealed like a little girl and summoned a house elf. “Dangleberry?”
A slight whoosh preceded the tiny being before she appeared, dressed only in an apron that read, ‘Don’t Make Me Poison Your Dinner’. “Yes, Mistress?” she asked, shaking all over.
“What is the main course this evening?” Umbridge inquired as she began ladling the aromatic goop into several glass jars.
“Chicken curry, I believe, Mistress,” the tiny thing answered, desperate to be back in the kitchens.
“Ah, good.” Handing all the jars but one to the elf, she bent low and stared fiercely at the poor creature. “Add this sauce to the curry paste before cooking, but only for the student’s meals. The professors’ food should remain untouched.”
Studying the frothy glop, Dangleberry nodded hesitantly and disappeared; glad to be out of the Headmistress’ presence.
Straightening, Dolores returned to the pedestal and closed the book under heavy protection spells, giggling to herself that whoever was foolish enough to try and break the wards on the tome would get what they deserved. She then checked her immovable hair in the mirror and, pleased the copied image smiled so serenely, she blew it a kiss. Heading past the oaken door, she made her way to the Great Hall, proud of her latest achievement.
~*~
“Dangleberry, what is this?” the head chef elf demanded, pointing at the now orange liquid in the jars before him.
The scrawny elf covered her head with her arms as she approached him. “Mistress wants it added to the curry.”
Screwing off the lid, Flambé sniffed at the contents. “Doesn’t smell bad,” he thought aloud, about to dip his finger inside for a taste, but was stopped suddenly by the female elf’s shriek.
“No! Umbridge wants the school to have it, not House Elves! She will find out if you taste it.”
“Harrumph,” Flambé muttered, tossing the mess into the largest kettle that was boiling. He continued until the last jar was emptied. “There. Gather the dishes and prepare them for delivery.”
Watching him depart, she sighed in relief as she scooped rice and curried chicken into several large serving bowls, sincerely hoping she fulfilled the Mistress’ wishes properly.
She never saw the self-warming plate full of curried chicken head off to the professor’s table.
~*~
“Merlin, I’m beyond peckish!” Ron exclaimed as he sat on the wood bench next to Hermione while Harry sat on her left.
“You’re always beyond peckish, mate,” Harry teased. He sobered somewhat as he glanced across the hall towards the Slytherin table, and the smirking Malfoy, who was waggling his eyebrows mockingly at him.
Catching Harry’s stare, Hermione glanced at Draco just in time to see him mouth the word, ‘Mudblood’. Narrowing her eyes, she returned the favor. ‘Ferret’.
As Umbridge approached the dais to give her little speech, Draco ran a slender finger across the length of his throat, making sure Hermione saw it. Then he smiled maliciously and turned to Crabbe who was whispering something in his ear.
“Students! Let me take this opportunity to say how pleased I am that we can finally get on with the business of running a proper school,” Umbridge intoned loudly, startling everyone. “Some of you will notice slight changes in your curriculum schedule, but I assure you, this is no cause for alarm. The changes allow for a better grasp of certain subjects.”
“I’ve already taken Muggle Studies,” Hermione muttered under her breath as the Headmistress continued.
“Also, let me remind you, any student caught chewing Bubble-Wrap pop gum will be summarily dismissed without further cause,” she warned, ending with a prim little laugh.
“Bog troll,” the redheaded twins groused in unison. “That was one of our best inventions,” Fred complained.
Eyeing the tables, Umbridge tallied the population within the hall and came to the conclusion that every single student - bar some prefects that were already uptight arseholes – was sitting before her. Smiling to herself, she mentally patted herself on the back at her genius in enforcing that pupils remained a discrete distance from each other, for it was highly improbable that a chosen mate would be among the other students… right?
Shrugging off her minor uncertainty, she continued with the announcements. “Those of you wishing to join the Inquisitorial Squad for extra credit may sign up in my office.”
Of course this filled most of the Slytherin table with unrepressed glee, for there were numerous conversations that broke out, Malfoy’s voice being the loudest.
“Finally get to put the screws to those goody two-shoes Gryffindors,” he laughed nastily. “I don’t need the extra credit when I’m given free reign to Stupefy a Mudblood.”
A chill ran up Hermione’s spine upon hearing his promised threat, knowing she’d have to double her vigilance in order to stay out of harm’s way while comforted somewhat by Ron’s hand in hers. Further conversation was halted, however, when their food magically appeared, filling the hall with savory goodness that made everyone’s mouth water.
Instead of returning to the dais where the other professors sat during dinner, Umbridge returned to her office to go over the spell once more, making sure every instruction was followed precisely. It was unusual for her to have even the slightest inkling of doubt regarding a spell she’d conjured or a potion she’d mixed, but for some unknown reason, this potion made her hesitate over her abilities.
She ensconced herself in her chamber for the rest of the evening, pouring over books and ancient scrolls as she nibbled on toast, never touching that evening’s meal.
~*~
“That was the best curry I’ve had in ages,” Harry sighed with a loud belch, causing those around him to giggle.
In fact, every person had double helpings of the spicy chicken dish, including the professors. Glancing around, he noticed several classmates fanning themselves from the intensity; their face’s sweaty and red, including Malfoy’s. His was the most amusing shade of mottled pink Harry had ever seen.
Pouring his fourth glass of pumpkin juice, Harry gulped it down like a man that’d been trapped for several days in the desert, watching the other students do much the same thing. Finishing, he belched again and got up from the table, innocently leaning into Hermione as he did so. A fiery heat crawled up his shoulder where his body touched hers, so debilitating with pain that both he and his friend cried out in agony.
“Merlin, Harry!” Hermione gasped as she winced and grabbed her arm. “Have you been working with the Cinnemoxie solution again?”
Clutching his bicep, he ground out, “I’ve not gone near that stuff since last year, once was enough, thank you very much.”
“What’s wrong with you two?” Ron asked with a frown, laying his hand on Hermione’s, which promptly began to feel like his skin was ablaze.
With a knee-jerk reaction, both withdrew their hands, Hermione cradling her own against her chest while Ron sucked on his near-blistered fingers. They stared at each other until they noticed several other students were having the same difficulty and a frantic Ernie Macmillan was running down the length of the Hall, his fingers actually smoking.
“Bloody hell! What’s happening?” Ron asked in astonishment as Seamus Finnigan jumped up and started patting his lips, blisters forming around his mouth where he’d just kissed Vicky Frobisher.
“Students!” McGonagall shouted as loudly as she could. Seeing the room settle, she continued. “Prefects, accompany your housemates to their common rooms. We’ll be along shortly to discuss tonight’s events in greater detail.” As an afterthought, she added, “And for Merlin’s sake, don’t touch anyone!”
~*~
Arriving at the Gryffindor common room was harder than expected, as it was near impossible not to brush up against someone on the journey to the portrait portal, but Hermione was keenly observant the entire time.
“It doesn’t happen if I touch Ginny or Parvati,” she whispered to the boys. “I also noticed Neville stumble and bump into Colin, but nothing happened.”
Sitting off in their own little corner of the room, the trio tried to come up with a reasonable explanation as to why human contact made their bodies want to start up in conflagration, as Hermione scooted away from the boys before they could accidentally touch her.
Quietly pondering what could possibly be the cause of such a reaction, she began feeling odd, shifting her bum as if she were perched on a rock, trying to find a more comfortable position. A moment later, if felt as if the lower half of her body had been dipped in ice water and then suddenly removed, the chill centering around her abdomen. Lifting the bottom of her shirt, she laid her palm against her bare flesh, progressing lower until her fingers hit… metal.
“Hermione, please… if you have any feelings for me, you’ll stop,” Ron whimpered as he watched her hand delve below the waistband of her skirt.
Unaware of what she was doing, she abruptly withdrew her hand and quickly stood. “I-I need to go… to the loo,” she stuttered, unsure of how to move or walk about.
Harry frowned in confusion. “Then go, Hermione… you don’t need our permission.”
“What? Oh! Yes… right,” she chuckled hollowly, sprinting off towards her room.
“I thought she had to go to the loo?” Harry asked, wondering why she headed to the dorms instead of the bathroom.
“Mental that one, I tell ya,” Ron said as a soft smile spread over his face. “But I wouldn’t trade her for the world.”
Alone in the dorm, Hermione shucked her skirt and stared, aghast at the contraption now enveloping her pelvic area. Poking a finger at the device, she realized it was a flexible metal, allowing the person to move freely like a set of cotton knickers… only not. Walking over to the full-length mirror, she turned to see how far it encompassed her body, her jaw hanging open in shock at what she beheld.
A chastity belt!
