The bathroom on the second floor had become almost comfortable by now.
Hermione arrived to find the usual wards already in place, Myrtle banished to distant pipes, and the familiar circle of conjured chairs arranged near the sinks.
Luna was perched on hers, legs swinging, humming something that sounded vaguely like something that'd be played in a funeral?
Creepy.
Lavender sat beside an empty chair—Hermione's usual spot—and patted it invitingly.
"You look well-rested," Lavender observed as Hermione sat down.
"I wonder why," Hermione murmured back, and they shared a private smile.
Pansy swept in next, looking unusually... relaxed. There was a softness to her usual sharp edges, a looseness in her stride that Hermione hadn't seen before. She practically glowed.
"Someone's in a good mood," Lavender noted suspiciously.
Pansy's lips curved into a smug smile. "I have news. But it can wait until everyone's here."
Before anyone could press her, the bathroom door opened one final time, and Professor McGonagall entered.
She looked terrible.
Dark circles shadowed her eyes. Her usually immaculate bun was slightly askew. And there was a tension in her shoulders, a tightness around her mouth, that spoke of someone at the very end of her rope.
"Professor?" Hermione stood, concerned. "Are you all right?"
McGonagall lowered herself into her chair with none of her usual grace. "No, Miss Granger. I am decidedly not all right."
"What happened?" Lavender asked.
For a long moment, McGonagall didn't answer. She stared at her hands, folded tightly in her lap, and Hermione could see them trembling.
"I did something," the professor said finally. "Something I am deeply ashamed of."
The room went very quiet.
"I couldn't... manage. On my own." McGonagall's voice was barely above a whisper. "The situation became untenable. The constant arousal, the inability to find relief—I tried everything. Potions. Meditation. Staying in my animagus form. Cold showers. Nothing worked."
"Professor—" Hermione started.
"I went to Poppy." McGonagall closed her eyes. "I told her everything. And I asked her to... help me."
Stunned silence.
"Help you how?" Pansy asked carefully.
"How do you think?"
The world must have been ending. Professor McGonagall was sarcastic.
"I couldn't do it with my hands alone. The angle is wrong, and I'm... I'm too..." She gestured vaguely, miserably. "And she was clinical about it... Professional. But the fact remains that I asked my friend to bring me to orgasm because I was too desperate to think of another solution."
"Oh, Professor," Lavender breathed.
"It was a lapse in judgment. A moment of weakness. And now I've burdened Poppy with knowledge she never asked for, and compromised our relationship, and—"
"Professor McGonagall." Luna's dreamy voice cut through the spiral. "Why didn't you come to us?"
McGonagall looked up, startled. "I beg your pardon?"
"We agreed to help each other. That's what the group is for." Luna tilted her head, her pale eyes thoughtful. "You shouldn't have had to go to Madam Pomfrey. We would have helped you."
"Miss Lovegood, I am your professor. The scandal alone—"
"We're not kids anymore," Luna pointed out. "We're adults. Equals in this situation, if nothing else."
"She's right," Hermione said slowly. "We made a pact. No one has to suffer alone. That includes you."
"I couldn't possibly ask students to—"
"You're not asking," Lavender interrupted. "We're offering."
McGonagall stared at them, her expression caught between hope and horror. "This is entirely inappropriate."
"So is having a penis," Pansy said dryly. "We're rather past appropriate at this point, wouldn't you say?"
"I—"
"When did Madam Pomfrey help you?" Hermione asked gently.
"... A couple of days ago."
"And how are you feeling now?"
McGonagall's jaw tightened. "The relief lasted approximately eighteen hours. Since then, I've been... struggling."
"You're hard right now, aren't you?" Luna asked, with her usual startling directness.
A flush crept up McGonagall's neck. "Miss Lovegood—"
"It's all right. We all are, to some degree. Gerald has been very insistent today." Luna stood from her chair and crossed to where McGonagall sat. "Let us help you. Please."
"I can't—"
Luna wrapped her arms around McGonagall from behind, a gentle embrace that made the older woman stiffen in surprise. "You can. You're not alone anymore, Professor. That's the whole point."
Hermione watched something shift in McGonagall's expression—the rigid control cracking, just slightly, to reveal the exhaustion and desperation underneath.
"This is madness," McGonagall whispered.
"Probably," Luna agreed serenely. "But it's shared madness. That makes it better."
Lavender rose from her chair and approached slowly, giving McGonagall every opportunity to refuse. "May I?"
McGonagall's breath caught. She looked around the circle—at Hermione's encouraging nod, at Pansy's carefully neutral expression, at Luna's arms still wrapped around her shoulders.
"I... don't know. Maybe… I—"
Lavender knelt gracefully in front of McGonagall's chair. Her fingers found the fastening of the professor's robes, working them open with practised ease. Beneath, McGonagall wore simple black trousers and a white blouse—practical, professional.
"Lift your hips," Lavender murmured.
McGonagall complied, and Lavender drew the trousers down, revealing cotton knickers that were doing absolutely nothing to hide the substantial bulge beneath.
"Oh my," Lavender breathed.
"Is something wrong?"
"No, it's just..." Lavender carefully pulled the knickers down, and McGonagall's cock sprang free.
Hermione's eyes went wide.
It was enormous.
Where Hermione's was seven inches and Lavender's was five, where Luna's was six and Pansy's was somewhere in between—McGonagall's had to be at least eight inches. Thick, flushed, and visibly throbbing, it curved slightly upward, the head already glistening with precum.
"Merlin's saggy left—" Pansy cut herself off, staring.
"I did mention," McGonagall said tightly, her face scarlet, "that I couldn't manage with my hands alone. The logistics are... challenging."
"I can see why Pomfrey had to help," Lavender said faintly. "That's... that's quite a lot to handle."
"This is humiliating."
"It's impressive, actually," Luna said from behind her, peering over McGonagall's shoulder. "Gerald is very jealous."