ALL CHARACTERS PORTRAYED WITHIN THIS STORY ARE 18 YEARS OLD OR ABOVE.
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Summary: When a magical flower sprays Harry with a mysterious cloud of spores, he soon finds the side effects to be far more…pleasant than he expected. Now with every girl in the castle obsessed with him, Harry must decide whether to find a cure for this mysterious ailment or give in to its more carnal benefits.
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Chapter 19: Nuturing the Growth
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“Legilimens!”
Pansy felt herself falling back as the world dissolved around her. The soft blanket, the comforting armchair, the worried face of Hermione—all of it vanished as the sensation of falling completely overtook her. Instinctually, Pansy tensed, expecting some sort of impact and collision. Yet none came. Instead, the weightless sensation slowly faded until it felt as if she were floating freely in an inky black void.
And a void it was. All around her was nothing but darkness and silence. It was the type of silence that made her ears ring from the sheer absence of sound. Calling it quiet would be a vast understatement. It was a silence that gnawed at her senses, one that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, and her heart clench uncomfortably in her chest. She hated the quiet. Always has ever since she was a little girl, really.
As the small, fleeting thought of her childhood passed lazily through her mind, the world around Pansy suddenly shifted. Like a tug of a rope around her waist, she felt herself falling once more, except this time it was not darkness that broke her fall.
The world came to life, twisting and bubbling around her at a dizzying speed. Pansy blinked through the disorientation and frowned. She recognised that carpet. Looking up, her frown only deepened. She recognised those drapes too; their horrid glittery pink hue had haunted her for years until a bout of accidental magic had set them ablaze. But that was years ago…where…?
As the world clicked into place, Pansy finally got her first full look around. This…this was her childhood bedroom. Not a copy or mimicry, but her actual childhood bedroom down to the tiniest, minute, detail.
But why was she here? And where the bloody hell was Bones?!
Her thoughts were interrupted as the silence of her old bedroom was broken by a single quiet sniffle. Pansy froze at the sound.
‘No…’
The thought was quiet, unbidden. She turned slowly, fear clawing at her throat as she took in the small form curled atop her childhood bed.
Young Pansy’s tears fell in small droplets, her breaths no more than hiccups as she tried to choke back the sounds of her cries. It wasn’t the loud crying of a child who wished for attention and comfort; it was the silent sobs of a little girl who was trying and failing to keep the tears at bay.
Pansy stared at her younger self in mournful recognition. She remembers this night. Why wouldn’t she?
It was her birthday after all.
Her father had left on a business trip to the continent a few days before. Her mother, who was never one to skip out on an excursion to Paris, went with him, leaving her in the care of the house elves. They had assured her they’d return in time to celebrate her birthday together as a family. It wouldn’t be like last year, they had said, or the year before, or the one before that. She had spent all day eagerly awaiting their return, fully believing that, this time, they would keep their promise. This time, they would return. This time…she would not be forgotten.
How sorely disappointed she had been.
The day came and went. Pansy spent the entirety of her birthday sitting quietly in the entrance hall, waiting for the floo to flare green, signalling her parents’ return. Yet the fireplace had remained cold and empty, and the despair in her chest only grew with every minute it remained so.
In the end, she ended the day with a small cupcake and eyes full of tears. The only sound that of her broken voice quietly singing happy birthday to herself.
Ever since then, Pansy hated silence.
Taking a shaky breath, Pansy tore her eyes away from the painful memory just as it began to fade.
Where was Susan? She wanted to leave. Screw the mark and the stupid bloody nightmares.
At the thought of the redheaded Hufflepuff, the world shifted once more. Pansy winced as the now familiar tugging sensation yanked her forward. Countless images passed her as she was pulled through this strange mindscape. Each one was a memory of hers—some detailed, filled with colour and sounds that she could recall with vivid clarity. Others were little more than fleeting thoughts and feelings, the remnants of emotions long passed. It was a dizzying whirlwind of the entirety of her life passing by her eyes all at once.
Just as the flashes of memories became too much for Pansy to process all at once, they were gone. In the blink of an eye, the darkness returned, yet this time, a pinprick of golden light remained.
With each second, the pinprick grew, and with it, the golden light began to chase away the darkness. Pansy sucked in a breath as the origins of the light finally came into view. Tendrils of gold sprawled across the darkness, piercing what seemed to be the very veil of reality itself. It was a knotted, twisted mess if she were being honest, almost like that of a plant's roots that had been allowed to grow free and untamed. It was beautiful in its own way.
The mark.
A pressure built between Pansy’s shoulder blades as she approached the light. Not a stiff, unyielding one, but a feeling like a reassuring hand resting upon her back. It was familiar in a way…
‘There you are Bones,’ Pansy mentally huffed.
Susan, or at least the presence of Susan, seemed to hear her words somehow. Pansy could feel the other girl’s amused exasperation. The pressure on her spine increased the tiniest bit, not uncomfortably so, but in a way that made the other girl’s intentions clear.
‘Okay, fine. I’m going!’ Pansy scoffed. She willed herself forward, the glowing gold tendrils now just a scant few feet away. Susan obviously thought taking a closer look was important, and Pansy wasn’t about to argue. She just wanted this ordeal over with already.
At her approach, the tendrils seemed to unwind the tiniest degree. The root-like beams of light relaxed, as if to invite her closer with an unspoken ‘Come! Come and see!’
Pansy reached her hand out, her arm freezing for a breathless beat mere inches away from one of the glimmering tendrils. Susan urged her forward once more, her presence annoyingly comforting despite the unease pooled heavily in the bottom of Pansy’s gut. With a breath, Pansy steeled her nerves and reached forward.
And then her mind screamed.
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“-ansy! Pansy, wake up!”
With a gasp, the Slytherin witch shot up. The gasp morphed into full-body, devastating coughs as both her lungs and heart struggled to work correctly. She was still in the Room of Requirement, yet the chair she was on before was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a large four-poster bed. Hermione stood over her, the bookworm’s brown eyes filled with worry as she gave Pansy a frantic inspection.
“What–” Pansy winced. Her throat felt raw and tender, as if she’d swallowed a potion vial’s worth of acid. “What happened?” she managed finally, rubbing her sore vocal cords.
“You collapsed just as Susan was ejected from your mind,” Hermione explained. Her wand moved in complex motions in front of Pansy’s face as the brunette muttered under her breath before continuing. “We tried to use Rennervate on you, but every time we did, you just started screaming.”
“I–” Pansy began before her mouth clamped shut. That would explain why her throat felt so raw, at least. “How long have I been out?”
Hermione pursed her lips, uncertainty flashing within her eyes at Pansy’s question, before she finally relented with a sigh. “About six hours, give or take. I was preparing to have Harry carry you down to the Hospital Wing when you finally started to rouse.”
“Six hours? That’s—” Pansy shook her head. “No that can’t be right. It feels like it’s only been a few minutes.”
Again, her words forced Hermione to purse her lips. “Do you…remember anything?”
Pansy furrowed her brow in thought. The memories were…hazy at best. She remembers the light. The pressure of Susan’s mind pressed against the nape of her neck as she reached out to touch the glittering tendrils and then…
Pain. Searing hot yet frigid cold all at the same time. It was the burn of frostbite biting at the edges of her mind. She hadn’t been able to think, to see, to form even the barest of a thought other than her internal cries for it to stop. Please stop it hurts so much. Plea—
And then she woke up.
If she concentrated, Pansy could almost feel the lingering chill behind her eyes.
Hermione’s frown only deepened as Pansy described what she saw.
“Then you saw about as much as Susan. She said that something wrenched her free from your mind as soon as you reached for the mark. We thought it was just your magic lashing out but now I’m not so sure.”
Pansy nodded, only really half listening to Hermione now as she rubbed at her eyes. Despite being unconscious for six hours, she was exhausted. The dull throbbing in her head didn’t help much either.
“Where is Bones anyway?” she asked.
“The Hospital Wing. Harry brought her down as soon as he returned. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said something wrenched her out of your mind,” Hermione explained. “Whatever it was, it pushed her out with enough force to break three ribs.”
“Bloody hell,” Pansy muttered. “Is she…?”
“She’s fine,” Hermione said not unkindly. The bookworm took Pansy’s hand in her own and gave it a comforting squeeze. “It’s nothing Madame Pomfrey can’t handle. Honestly, you should be the one in the Hospital Wing.”
Pansy waved Hermione’s worried tone off.
“‘M fine,” she mumbled. A yawn tore its way from her lips unbidden. “Just…tired.”
Hermione’s features softened, and she nodded. “Then let’s get you in bed. I think we can put our research on hold for a while.”
Pansy nodded, allowing herself to be gently pushed back onto the bed. Her eyes were already closing long before her head hit the pillow, the combination of countless sleepless nights and the mental strain she faced today leaving her far too exhausted to resist the call of Morpheus.
It wouldn’t be until the next morning that she’d realised there were no red eyes to plague her dreams this night.
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Susan huffed as her pillow was adjusted for what felt like the hundredth time.
“I told you, I’m fine,” she said, her tone clipped and pointed.
Harry, of course, ignored her protest and finished adjusting her pillow before turning his attention to her blanket. Susan groaned and closed her book, making sure to mark her place first while also ignoring the urge to chuck the heavy tome at her boyfriend’s head.
“Honestly! It was just a few broken ribs! Madame Pomfrey even said it was nothing to worry about!” Susan huffed with clear exasperation.
“She also said that you would be sore for a few days and needed to take it easy,” Harry remarked, unfazed by her consternation.
Susan scoffed and smacked away his hands fussing over the blanket. “Sore, not helpless,” she bit back.
Harry levelled her with an unimpressed stare. Quicker than she could react, he reached forward and snatched her book from her lap, holding it just out of reach of her hands. Susan made a noise of protest and tried to grab the leather-bound tome, but it was too far, so instead she resorted to glaring daggers into her boyfriend’s chest.
“Give it back,” she growled, though the pink blush dusting her cheeks lessened the effect somewhat. Lavender had lent her that book the week before, and it wasn’t exactly the type of reading material one wanted on full display for the world to see.
Harry, though, cared little about that and simply raised a brow in challenge as he held the book just a few inches out of her reach.
“Come and get it then, since you’re obviously fine and all,” he replied with a click of his tongue.
Susan’s glare turned into a full-fledged pout as her cheeks went from pink to bright red. While she wasn’t by any means helpless, she was still very much sore. Madame Pomfrey had managed to mend her broken ribs with a simple flick of her wand, but even then the trauma her body underwent still needed its own time to heal naturally. Even with the pain relief potions she’d taken, she wouldn’t be able to retrieve her book without at least some discomfort.
Sighing in defeat, Susan slumped back and crossed her arms with a huff.
Harry smiled and deposited her book back onto her lap before leaning in to place a kiss against the crown of her head.
“You know I don’t think you’re helpless,” he murmured as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
Susan sighed and leaned into his touch. “I know. It’s actually kind of cute when you worry.”
Harry huffed in response. “Well, let’s at least not make it a habit, yeah? This is the second time you girls have gone and done something rash while I’m away.”
“Oh yes, because you’ve never jumped headfirst into an unknown situation before,” Susan giggled.
“Of course I have,” Harry retorted. “But it’s pretty much expected of me at this point. You and Hermione are supposed to be the rational ones in this relationship.”
Susan hummed in agreement. She snuggled further into her boyfriend’s chest and sighed.
“I suppose we can err on the side of caution a bit more in the future. We can't have you becoming the voice of reason after all. I don’t think the world could handle such a thing,” she murmured.
“Exactly!”
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The next few weeks passed by at a dizzying speed. Their research into the blessing and the mysterious marks was put on a temporary hold, due in part to the jarring experience between Susan and Pansy inside the latter’s mind, but mainly because Hermione was adamant that there be no distractions during the course of their end-of-semester exams.
The bushy-haired witch had all but locked herself away inside the library to study, often dragging Harry or Susan with her, insisting they needed to take their studies just as seriously. Having lived through five years of Hermione’s manic study sessions, Harry had resigned himself to the same mind-numbing routine of revisions, note-taking, and flash cards that he’s been subjected to time and time again. Unbeknownst to him, however, Hermione had already planned for this.
It seemed that, while the bookworm was still just as serious about her academics as she had always been, Hermione had brainstormed a myriad ways to keep her lovers engaged during their cramming session, utilising the power of the blessing.
The first time she began to strip while quizzing him on the five core laws of Transfiguration, Harry had thought he was dreaming. It was nothing, however, compared to the first time she dropped to her knees and began sucking his cock after he answered every question right. She had even come up with a scoring system: If he got all the questions right, she’d make him cum in her mouth. If he answered every question right AND gave explanations as to why, she would let him pick between cumming in her mouth or on her face and tits. If he got every question right, gave explanations as to why, AND cited his sources, Hermione would let him choose between a blowjob or bending her over the nearest available surface and fucking her into a screaming mess.
Needless to say, Harry learned the importance of citing his work pretty quickly.
His favourite, though, was when she would climb onto his lap and sheath herself fully onto his rigid member. She’d only move as he spoke aloud an oral history of the goblin rebellions, her pace picking up with every important date he could name and the reasoning behind the events, while she would halt herself completely if he got one wrong.
The good news? Harry could now recite the most prominent battles of the goblin rebellions and name the key figures who participated in each from memory alone. The bad news was that he could no longer sit through History of Magic without getting a boner. An acceptable sacrifice in his opinion.
Susan was just as thrilled over this new arrangement as he was. Watching Hermione devour the redhead’s pussy while she calculated complex Arithmancy equations should not have been as hot as it was, but Susan’s squeaks of pleasure combined with Hermione’s moans was a symphony of intellect and lust that Harry found utterly intoxicating. Susan, for her part, discovered a newfound appreciation for the subject, her mind sharpening with every flick of Hermione's tongue and every calculated answer she gasped out. Hermione's reward system for her was similar, but with a focus on precision. A perfectly solved equation earned her a deep, probing kiss with fingers dancing over her clit. A full page of correct work would earn her the privilege of Hermione’s fingers delving deep inside her pussy until Susan came fully undone in a mess of slutty moans and spell-crafting principles.
Sometimes Hermione would drag other girls into their game as well.
Daphne and Tracey both took turns guiding him through the various complex potion recipes while the other did their best to ‘distract’ him. Tracey was prone to more forward approaches, often preferring to openly stroke his cock or suck on his balls while he attempted to carefully measure out spoonfuls of powdered Gryphon claw. Daphne was subtler, but no less dangerous. She would strike when he least expected it, wrapping the soft soles of her feet around his throbbing member just as he calculated the correct amount of Lacefly wings to incorporate into the recipe or sinking her teeth into the soft flesh of his neck at the exact moment he reached to adjust the temperature of the cauldron’s flame.
In the end, a failed or subpar potion would mean the girls would pull away, often with only a single, teasing kiss against the crown of his cock, before leaving him with no relief for his throbbing erection.
An acceptable brew earned him a double blow-job from the two Slytherin beauties, their tongues swirling in a shared dance around his cock that ended with both their faces painted with his sticky seed.
A perfectly brewed potion, however, held the sweetest reward. Both girls would kneel before him, offering up every hole for him to use. Oftentimes, this would only occur after days' worth of teasing and torturous touches from Hermione’s other study techniques. This meant that Harry always had plenty of pent-up desires to work out using the Slytherin beauties, their whorish moans and whimpers of pleasure a victorious symphony to his ears.
Susan received much the same treatment. Padma Patil was an especially vicious tutor, her standards for runecraft rivalled by only that of her sexual creativity. The Ravenclaw was especially fond of bondage, often tying Susan’s wrists and ankles to a chair, leaving her deliciously vulnerable. Vibrating charms and stimulating runestones were used liberally on the redhead, from enchanted nipple clamps to a slick, obsidian plug carved with pleasure runes that hummed deep inside her arse. For every correct translation of a runic sequence, Padma would reward her by increasing the intensity of the toys, drawing her climax closer. A mistake, however, would be met with a sharp smack of a ruler across the redhead’s pussy before the intensity was brought down to almost zero, leaving Susan in near tears as her orgasm was edged once more. The sessions would only end when Susan could perfectly inscribe a complex, multi-layered warding array from memory, her body trembling with a mixture of exhaustion, denied pleasure, and an unnervingly sharp understanding of runic power.
In the end, their exams arrived with Harry, oddly enough, feeling far more prepared than he’s ever been. That feeling only continued as each exam, both theoretical and practical, flew by with little challenge, yet it wasn’t until both he and Susan received their results that he realised just how effective Hermione’s method was.
It was the first time in his career that he had achieved O’s in every subject. Even Snape hadn’t managed to find a fault in Harry’s work, only marking him down four points for his ‘irritating handwriting’. Susan’s results were much the same, yet it was Hermione who was the happiest of their trio when she found out.
“I suppose this means you two have earned a reward, hmm?” she murmured, slowly reaching up to unbutton her blouse, her movements deliberate and almost reverent. The garment was tossed away with little care, her perky breasts tantalising them behind the confines of her bra as she slowly sank down to her knees before him and Susan. “So why don’t you take it?”
That was all the permission Harry and Susan needed. A switch flipped, the weeks of being teased, denied, and controlled by Hermione's wicked study sessions boiling over into a primal, shared need. They moved on her as one.
Harry grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back as he crashed his mouth down on hers, kissing her with bruising force. It wasn't a kiss of love, but of conquest, a claiming of the mouth that had both tormented and tantalised him for weeks. Susan, meanwhile, aimed lower, ripping free Hermione’s bra, sending it skittering across the floor as she latched onto one of her exposed nipples, biting down hard enough to make Hermione cry out into Harry's mouth.
They worked together, tearing away the rest of the bookworm’s clothes until she was completely naked and trembling before them.
Harry moved first, picking Hermione up and throwing her onto the bed conjured by the Room of Requirement.
"On your hands and knees,” he commanded, his voice a rough growl.
Hermione scrambled to obey, positioning herself on the edge of the large bed, her arse raised high in the air, her dripping pussy already on display. Susan moved to the head of the bed, stripping free of her own clothes as she went before taking a seat in front of Hermione and spreading her legs wide. The redhead grabbed a fistful of her hair, a sharp glint of lust burning deep in her gaze as she tugged Hermione’s face closer to her glistening snatch.
“Lick,” she commanded, her voice equally as lust-ridden as Harry’s. “And don't you dare stop unless Harry or I say.”
Harry positioned himself behind Hermione, not bothering with any foreplay. He gripped her hips, lined up his thick, rigid cock with her sopping entrance, and slammed into her in one brutal thrust. Hermione screamed, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure as he filled her completely, stretching her to her limits. He didn't wait for her to adjust. He immediately set a punishing rhythm, his hips snapping forward, driving his cock deep into her with enough force to make the bedframe slam against the wall.
At the same time, having grown impatient, Susan yanked Hermione forward, muffling the bookworm’s screams with her awaiting pussy. The taste of Susan’s essence on her tongue triggered Hermione’s instincts, where her brain failed her. Her mouth moved with practised precision, tongue darting up and down the length of Susan’s folds before focusing on the hooded little nub quivering up above.
“Ohhhh fuck…” Susan moaned, her nails digging into Hermione’s scalp unforgivingly. “Just like that, ‘Mione. Make me cum~”
Hermione was lost in a storm of sensation. Harry's powerful thrusts rocked her entire body, each one pushing her face harder against Susan's slick folds. She obeyed, her tongue delving deeper and faster, lapping and sucking with a desperate hunger to bring the redhead to the precipice. The room was a cacophony of depraved sounds: Harry's guttural grunts as he pounded into her, Susan's breathy moans and filthy encouragement, and the wet, rhythmic slapping of flesh on flesh.
"You love this, don't you, you little bookworm slut?" Susan taunted, a rare bit of confidence shining through thanks to the weeks of teasing. "You love being fucked like this, used like the toy you are." Susan threw her head back as a gasp tore its way from her throat. “Fuck! Oh fuck, she’s such a good slut, isn’t she Harry?”
“Merlin, yes,” Harry groaned, his hips a blur as he savagely hammered his cock in and out of Hermione’s sopped wet folds. “The perfect slut.”
“Gods! I’m close, oh fuck Hermione don’t stop!” Susan ordered, her entire lower half trembling as her climax drew closer and closer. The redhead's hips jerked and rocked against Hermione’s face. Holding her head steady by her hair, Susan was more fucking Hermione’s face than she was allowing the brunette to devour her cunt. From behind, it was a similar state for Harry. Hermione’s legs had long since gone out, her entire body collapsing flat against the bed while Harry slammed into her with relentless thrusts. The inside of the bookworm’s thighs was soaked with her essence. She was close, yet Harry and Susan weren’t far behind.
Susan came first, her climax announced by a wild, ragged moan that tore its way from the redhead’s lips. Her heaving breasts rippled with each ragged breath while her pussy coated Hermione’s face with a thick layer of her juices.
Hermione was next. Susan’s orgasm was the start, but it was when Harry reached down and lightly pinched her clit with a muttered “Cum for me,” that she truly came undone. Hermione's entire body went rigid, a muffled scream torn from her throat as a massive orgasm tore through her. Her pussy convulsed around Harry's cock, clamping down on him like a vice.
Harry was last. The feeling of her pulsating walls sent him over the edge. With one final, powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt and roared as he erupted. His cock spasmed violently, pumping a thick, hot load of cum deep inside her, flooding her cunt until it dripped out around his shaft and ran down her thighs.
They collapsed in a heap together, their breaths gasping and laboured as they slowly recovered from their shared peak.
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Author’s Note
Coming up: The first days of Winter Break at Bones Manor and our first chapter from Amelia’s perspective as she deals with the weight of a recent discovery.
Thanks for reading!