Hermione's mind was racing. Luna's revelation had opened a door she hadn't considered—the possibility of involving others. Of receiving help with this impossible situation.
Like Lavender helped me, she thought, a flush creeping up her cheeks.
"Since we're sharing," she heard herself say, "I think we should all be honest about how we've been... managing."
Everyone looked at her.
"Hermione?" McGonagall's voice was wary.
"The constant arousal. The physical need. We've all been dealing with it, right? So how is everyone actually coping?" She took a breath. "I've... I've been masturbating. Almost every day since this started."
Admitting it aloud was both horrifying and liberating.
The silence stretched.
Then Lavender raised her hand. "Me too. Multiple times, actually."
Luna nodded serenely. "Gerald and I have a very active schedule."
All eyes turned to Pansy.
She glared at them defiantly for a long moment, then deflated. "Fine. Yes. I've... handled it. Once or twice." Her cheeks were burning. "Or several times a day since Draco started wearing that bloody sweater."
McGonagall was staring fixedly at the ceiling. "This conversation is entirely inappropriate."
"Professor?" Hermione pressed gently.
"I am not discussing my personal habits with students."
"We're not really students anymore," Lavender pointed out. "We're in our twenties. And we're all going through the same thing."
McGonagall was silent for a long moment. Then, very quietly: "I may have found it necessary to... relieve tension. On occasion."
"See?" Hermione felt a strange sense of solidarity wash over her. "We're all dealing with the same thing. There's no shame in admitting it."
"Easy for you to say," Pansy muttered. "You're Gryffindor's golden girl. I have a reputation to maintain."
"Your reputation doesn't know you have a penis, Pansy. I think we're past pretence at this point."
Pansy opened her mouth to retort, then closed it. "...Fair."
Lavender shifted beside Hermione, and their eyes met. A silent question passed between them.
Should we tell them?
Hermione gave a tiny nod.
"There's something else," Lavender said, her voice careful. "Hermione and I discovered something. About... coping."
"If you're going to suggest meditation, I swear to Merlin—" Pansy started.
"It's better when someone else helps."
Silence.
McGonagall's eyebrows rose toward her hairline. "I beg your pardon?"
Lavender's cheeks were pink, but she pressed on. "Last night, Hermione came to me. She was... struggling. Really struggling. Crying, actually." She glanced at Hermione apologetically. "Sorry."
"It's fine," Hermione said quietly. "They should know."
"So I helped her. Physically." Lavender swallowed. "I gave her a... a hand. Literally."
The bathroom was so silent that Hermione could hear Moaning Myrtle's distant sobbing from somewhere in the pipes.
"You gave her a handjob," Pansy said flatly.
"Yes."
"In your bed."
"Yes."
"While she was crying."
"She stopped crying pretty quickly, actually."
Hermione buried her face in her hands. "Lavender."
"What? It's true!"
Luna was nodding thoughtfully. "That makes sense. Gerald always responds better to external stimulation. There's something about another person's touch—the unpredictability, the warmth, the emotional connection—that enhances the experience significantly."
"Miss Lovegood, please—" McGonagall started.
"Susan was very good at it," Luna continued serenely. "She used her tongue in this swirling motion that Gerald found absolutely transcendent. I could show you the technique if you'd like. Well, not show show. Describe."
"That will NOT be necessary."
"I'm just saying, external assistance has clear benefits. The research supports it."
"What research?" Pansy demanded.
"My personal research. Gerald and I have been keeping detailed notes."
"You've been keeping notes on your orgasms?"
"Of course. How else would I track patterns and optimise outcomes?"
Hermione decided she absolutely did not want to see Luna's orgasm optimisation spreadsheet.
"The point," she interjected, trying to steer the conversation back on track, "is that Lavender helping me was... different. Better. I've been handling things myself since this started, but last night was the first time I actually felt relief. Not just physical release, but emotional relief too."
"Because you weren't alone," Lavender added softly. "That's the worst part of this, isn't it? Feeling like we're each dealing with it in isolation. But we don't have to."
McGonagall looked deeply uncomfortable. "What exactly are you suggesting, Miss Brown?"
"I'm suggesting..." Lavender took a breath. "I'm suggesting we help each other. When things get too overwhelming. When we can't manage on our own."
"You want us to give each other handjobs," Pansy said, her voice dripping with disbelief.
"Or other things. Whatever helps." Lavender shrugged. "Luna got a blowjob from Susan, and she's the most relaxed person here."
"Gerald and I are very centred," Luna agreed.
"This is insane," Pansy said. "This is actually insane. I am not touching Granger's—Granger's—"
"You don't have to touch anyone you don't want to touch," Hermione said quickly. "It would be voluntary. Consensual. Just... an option. For when things get desperate."
"I was desperate this morning," Pansy admitted reluctantly. "In the bathroom. After Potions. I thought I was going to die."
"And wouldn't it have been better if someone had been there to help?"
Pansy was silent.
"I know it's strange," Hermione continued. "Believe me, I know. Twenty-four hours ago, I would have laughed at the idea. But this situation is strange. We have penises, Pansy. We're already so far beyond normal that offering each other a helping hand seems almost reasonable by comparison."
"She has a point," Lavender said. "We've all seen each other's... equipment... in the Hospital Wing. The awkwardness barrier has already been broken."
"That was a medical examination!"
"And this would be medical assistance. Just... more hands-on."
Luna raised her hand. "I would like to formally offer Gerald's services to anyone who needs them. He's very friendly and enjoys meeting new people."
"Luna, for the love of—" McGonagall stopped herself, taking a deep breath. "Miss Lovegood. While I appreciate your... generosity... I don't think Professor-student relations of that nature would be appropriate."
"You're not my professor anymore," Luna pointed out. "I'm nineteen. We're all adults here."
"Be that as it may—"
"Besides, Gerald doesn't discriminate based on professional hierarchy. He believes in equality."
McGonagall looked like she wanted to Disapparate on the spot.
"Let's table the specific logistics for now," Hermione suggested diplomatically. "The important thing is that we acknowledge the option exists. If any of us needs help—real, physical help—we can come to each other. No judgment. No shame."
"No judgment," Lavender echoed.
Luna smiled. "Gerald approves."
Pansy was staring at the floor, her expression conflicted. Finally, she looked up. "If I agree to this—and I'm not saying I am—it stays between us. No one else ever knows. Not Susan Bones, not anyone."
"Susan already knows about me," Luna said. "But she's very discreet. She's actually asked if she could join the group. She finds our situation fascinating."
"Absolutely not!"
"She gives excellent blowjobs."
"I don't CARE about her blowjob skills!"
"You might, eventually. Gerald thinks you're very tense."
"GERALD CAN MIND HIS OWN BUSINESS."
Hermione held up her hands. "Okay, okay. No expanding the group without unanimous consent. Agreed?"
Reluctant nods all around.
"And whatever happens between us stays between us. Also agreed?"
More nods.
"Then we have an understanding." Hermione felt something loosen in her chest. "We're in this together. All the way."
For the first time since this nightmare began, she felt a flicker of something like hope.