Once on the soft bed inside the room, I began undressing her slowly. Hermione put up barely any resistance; she felt that, in some way, she had to return the unexpected pleasure I had given her, even if that had supposedly been a reward for her. She agreed to give herself up to be a good girlfriend, but what she did not anticipate was the complete absence of her past suffering.
Guiding the penetration with a subtle touch of magic to relax her muscles, I slid inside her. It was a fluid, careful act. Hermione did not reach climax again on this occasion, but she felt with relief that the sharp pain had completely vanished, replaced by a perfectly tolerable, at most slightly uncomfortable, pressure. She was beginning to understand the world's obsession with sex: it wasn't a traumatic experience after all, and if she could have frequent access to my mouth in exchange, it was well worth the effort.
It was then that I attacked her again, holding her firmly and thrusting my length back inside for a second round. I picked up the pace, drawing on my power to grant her a heightened sensation. My flesh staff carved its path through her folds, flooding her with a burning warmth that tore uncontainable groans from her throat. We synced with effortless fluidity as she surrendered to a tsunami of unknown sensations. I didn't push her to the absolute limit of pleasure—a modest, gentle orgasm was more than enough for her age, as I had no desire to create a second Lavender—but it was enough for her to rediscover intimacy entirely.
She could only weep amidst her groans, feeling used yet enjoying every moment until I pressed tightly against her, trapping her beneath my body. And so, once again, I filled her interior with my seed shortly after she had her moment of bliss.
When it was over, Hermione lay sprawled across the sheets, sweaty, breathless, and dizzy with exhaustion. Her hair was messy across the pillow, and her belly throbbed with an intense feeling of fullness and sensitivity. Instinctively, she brought her hands down to her crotch, which didn't hurt like that first time, though it remained tender. Withdrawing her fingers, she examined the traces of semen covering her with curiosity. It was the first time she had inspected the fluid up close, trying to process whether all of this had been real or merely a fever dream.
"Is... is this how sex is supposed to be?" she finally asked, her voice raspy.
"I told you, you just had a terrible first time," I replied, sitting up on the edge of the bed and stretching casually. "It usually feels amazing."
"Have you had... a lot of sex?" she inquired suddenly, her mind clouded by fatigue.
I froze for a fraction of a second at the unexpected question, but regained my composure instantly.
"A bit..."
"With whom...? When...?"
"If you keep asking those kinds of questions, we'll repeat this right now, and tomorrow you'll have to explain to the whole school why you're walking funny," I threatened in a playful tone.
Hermione shuddered, snapping out of her daze slightly, and extended her arms up to me with a pleading look.
"I want a hug..." she requested softly. After such a display, she needed affection and pampering.
I settled back beside her and wrapped my arms around her, listening to her heavy breathing as her strength evaporated into fatigue.
"This white stuff... the semen... what..." she murmured once more, trying to cling to her inquisitive nature before falling asleep to get some answers.
"Tomorrow... Sleep now..." I whispered warmly, stroking her hair.
"Mmm..." she agreed, nestling against my chest as if she had found the safest place in the world, though she managed one last objection in a sleepy murmur: "Am... am I going to get pregnant?"
She knew Muggle biology, but was ignorant of whether magic or the laws of this world altered the process, whether precautions were needed, or if it was already too late. She needed definitive confirmation before closing her eyes.
"No... Don't worry. Just rest now," I rocked her gently, holding her in my arms until her breathing deepened and she fell fast asleep.
...
After leaving Hermione to rest, I did not overlook the rest of the girls demanding my attention inside Hogwarts.
Penelope presented no challenge; with the Headmaster practically working under my orders, I could afford to be far bolder. It took nothing more than bringing her to a disused classroom to give her what she wanted, later forcing her to walk back to her common room with her legs pressed tightly together to prevent anything from leaking out, having strictly forbidden her from using spells to clean herself. I thoroughly enjoyed watching her face flush with embarrassment, though I found myself forced to go one step further each time as she grew accustomed to that sort of thing.
With Pansy, I shared a session of intense, possessive kisses. She desperately needed to reaffirm her sense of authority; after Hermione had kissed me in front of everyone in the Chamber of Secrets, her pride had felt under attack, crying out for vengeance. She didn't stop kissing me until her lips were swollen and bright red... hers, of course, while mine remained untouched. That incensed her, though she disguised her frustration by pretending her nipples weren't chafed from the constant friction of my hands or that her underwear hadn't become uncomfortably damp.
As for Lavender... the encounter was strangely peaceful... by Lavender standards. I simply sat on the sofa while letting her ride my foot, rubbing her crotch against my sock while I patiently listened to the chronicle she was writing about the events in the Chamber of Secrets—a grotesquely distorted version of reality.
"Lav... nobody died down there," I chimed in, questioning her manuscript with a raised eyebrow. "Ginny didn't lose an eye, and Cho wasn't eaten by the basilisk."
"But it adds so much more drama! It's necessary for the story!" she protested immediately, bringing out her relentless urge to inflate the narrative. "Besides, I can change the names and say we were a larger group so I can sacrifice a couple of fictional characters... Oh! I can also make it so the reason for our mission was that Riddle had kidnapped one of our classmates, keeping her hostage and raping her for the entire school year! And when we finally found her, she was completely brainwashed, so we had to face her in a tragic duel where, sadly, we had to kill her because she was beyond saving!"
She began scribbling over the parchment with an almost maniacal ferocity, while accelerating the speed at which she unabashedly rubbed herself against my foot. I had no choice but to let her flow with her dark fantasies.
With the others, I maintained the usual routine.
I took advantage of the training sessions to enjoy one-on-one time with Ginny and Luna, while coordinating our plans for the upcoming holidays.
I chatted every now and then with Moaning Myrtle, giving her the opportunity to debate theoretical aspects of necromancy with Helena Ravenclaw.
In the kitchens, Susan was thrilled to have me back as her co-chef, celebrating Hannah's imminent return to school.
In the corridors of the Slytherin dungeon, I discussed organizational matters with Daphne, who was once again showing off her administrative talents while dragging her sister Astoria to all our meetings, as if she wanted to instruct her early in business management.
Furthermore, I continued directing the girls on the Quidditch team, urging them to hone their skills on the pitch through exercises of progressive difficulty, while applying discreet treatments to boost their physical performance without them noticing. I did the same with the students who didn't play sports, using the resumption of dance lessons as an excuse.
By and large, the academic year seemed to have regained its usual course... "usual" within our particular parameters, of course.
...
Several peaceful days passed—an entire week of apparent calm, at least for most. While some students overflowed with joy and others bore the weight of apathy, there were those who felt their responsibilities overwhelming them.
Dumbledore was swamped trying to complete the task list I had assigned him; even so, the old man found solace in knowing that Hogwarts was once again a safe haven and that I was present to handle any unforeseen events. Snape, for his part, looked overburdened as he watched the Headmaster delegate his duties to him at every given opportunity. What appeared to be a promotion in the school hierarchy on the surface was nothing short of pure labor exploitation, though the Potions Master took comfort in celebrating the valuable cargo of basilisk skin he had managed to secure for himself.
Then there was McGonagall, who was traversing a confusing phase following the incidents with her Tom—not Riddle—and the basilisk. She tried to pour herself entirely into teaching to avoid feeling like she was neglecting her formal duties, even though part of her functions as Deputy Headmistress had also ended up in Snape's hands. She seemed distracted, exhausted, and dazed—a dip in performance that the students themselves were quick to notice.
That very day, in the middle of a Transfiguration class, the professor began sweating profusely and breathing with noticeable difficulty, bordering on a pant. She believed it to be a case of mental exhaustion from overwork that required an urgent rest, yet at the same time she dreaded extended breaks: she knew that the moment she had free time, she would end up looking for Tom. She still had to confront what had happened during their last encounter, prepared to stand firm and make it clear to him that his behavior had been unacceptable... no matter how much she had enjoyed it, and how every time she resumed her Animagus form she shuddered at that memory, even craving it anew.
Even so, Minerva barely managed to get through the week, awaiting Sunday's arrival to face Tom, though she had to deal with embarrassing episodes in which a sudden, overwhelming wave of arousal took her by storm out of nowhere.
However, before resolving her personal dilemma, she had another matter to attend to: a certain student whose behavior had always been a problem, but who had recently aroused her suspicions. Her sexual instinct, heightened by her interactions with Tom, warned her that this young man was involved in inappropriate activities. Knowing that he and her star pupil maintained a formal relationship, she feared they might commit some imprudence resulting in a teenage pregnancy drama, ruining the brilliant future they both had ahead of them. The task was doubly uncomfortable for her because, disturbingly, some of her sudden hot flashes coincided with the physical proximity of said student. Perhaps it was due to what had happened in the past, or that magic drug still remaining in her system, but it was something she had to address.
Therefore, she planned to take advantage of Saturday morning to have a serious talk with him, not before consuming a calming draught she had requested from Snape. What Minerva did not know was that the Potions professor, in a small act of revenge for the work overload he was subjected to, had supplied her with a slightly altered relaxing brew: a harmless elixir designed as an innocent prank to leave her dazed for a few minutes. At most, he expected her to trip over her words or slur embarrassingly like she was tongue-tied for a short while.
Snape could not foresee that his little prank was going to take effect at the wrong time, in the wrong place, and in front of the wrong person.