aFireFist
A Life at Hogwarts
Chapter 14 - Part 2
McGonagall studied her for another long second, lips pressed thin. She wanted to say more—to warn her properly, to share the complicated tangle of feelings she still carried from her own encounters—but the words stuck. Instead she gave a small, tight nod. "Very well. Carry on, Miss Granger. And remember what I said."
She turned and continued down the corridor, her back ramrod straight, but her mind was far away, replaying memories she had tried for years to bury. The conflicting pull of duty and desire left a sour taste in her mouth.
Harry felt it like a punch to the gut the moment he caught up with Hermione again. The glowing choker looked far too familiar under the corridor torches. Another vision slammed into him right there in the hallway—unbidden and vicious. Lily years ago in that train compartment, wearing something similar around her neck, smiling up at Roland with that same flushed, satisfied look on her face, lips swollen, eyes bright with want. His scar burned sharply, a hot spike of pain that made him wince.
He grabbed Hermione's arm as soon as they were clear of the main crowd, pulling her into a slightly quieter alcove. "Hermione, what the hell is that?" he hissed, voice low but urgent, his grip firm but not painful. "You've been acting weird for weeks. Late nights, this new 'apprentice' thing, that thing around your neck—it's not normal. Talk to us."
Hermione pulled her arm back gently but firmly, her cheeks still warm. She adjusted the choker with a small, almost absent touch, unable to hide the faint glow in her eyes or the way her thighs shifted. "It's just an academic badge, Harry. For extra research. Professor Greengrass is a brilliant historian. I'm learning a lot. This is good for me—really good."
Ron looked between them, confusion clear on his freckled face. He rubbed the back of his neck again. "Yeah, but you've been… different lately. Quieter sometimes, then all glowing and distracted. You sure everything's alright? If he's making you do extra stuff that feels off—"
"Perfectly fine," Hermione said, a little too quickly, her voice bright but edged with impatience. She glanced down the corridor, eager to move on. "I really do need to get to the library. I'll catch up with you both later, alright?"
She walked off without waiting for more questions, the silver choker catching the light with every step. Harry stared after her, stomach twisting into knots. The vision of his mum lingered, mixing with the sight of Hermione's satisfied little smile. Something was wrong. He just knew it.
Draco didn't waste any time. He and his usual group—Crabbe and Goyle lumbering behind him like a pair of trolls—cornered Harry and Ron near the stairs a few minutes later. Pansy Parkinson lingered nearby with a couple of other Slytherin girls, smirking like she was watching a show.
"Looks like the Mudblood's found a new way to climb the ladder," Draco drawled loudly, his voice carrying easily to nearby students who slowed down to listen. A nasty grin split his pale face. "Professor's special little pet now, is she? That shiny choker around her neck—bet it comes with some very hands-on lessons after dark. Greengrass always did have interesting tastes."
Crabbe and Goyle snickered loudly, meaty shoulders shaking. Pansy let out a high, mocking laugh.
Harry stepped forward immediately, wand already half out of his pocket, jaw clenched tight. "Shut your mouth, Malfoy. You don't know anything about it."
Ron was right beside him in an instant, ears burning red with anger. "Jealous she's actually good at something besides riding your family's money and sucking up to your dad? Granger earns her spot. Unlike some people."
Draco's sneer deepened, his grey eyes glittering with malice. He took a step closer, voice dropping into that signature venomous drawl. "Careful, Weasley. Wouldn't want your poor excuse for a family to lose even more points because Potter's little Mudblood friend is spreading her legs for extra credit. Though I suppose that's how she got so good at opening her mouth—always talking back in class, now opening wide for the professor."
Harry's hex flew first—a sharp Stinging Jinx that shot toward Draco with a loud bang. Draco blocked it with a quick shield, but the force made him stumble back a step. Sparks flew as Ron followed up with a Bat-Bogey Hex that nearly caught Crabbe. Insults flew thick and fast.
"Take that back, you slimy git!" Ron shouted, face flushed.
"Blood traitor trash like you wouldn't understand real ambition," Draco shot back, firing a Jelly-Legs Jinx that Harry barely dodged.
The confrontation turned messy in seconds—spells cracking through the air, students scattering or stopping to watch, shouts and insults echoing off the stone walls. Goyle swung a meaty fist that Ron ducked under, while Pansy hurled insults from the sidelines. Harry managed to land a solid hit on Draco's shoulder that made him hiss in pain, but the Slytherin recovered quickly, sending a Leg-Locker Curse that Harry shielded at the last moment.
A passing prefect—Ernie Macmillan from Hufflepuff—finally pushed through the growing crowd and broke it up with a loud "Enough!" and a few well-placed silencing charms that cut the shouting off mid-insult. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for brawling in the corridors! And twenty from Slytherin for provoking it! All of you—move along before I fetch a professor!"
Draco straightened his robes with an exaggerated glare, brushing imaginary dust from his shoulder. He shot one last venomous look at Harry and Ron. "This isn't over, Potter." But there was a grim satisfaction in Harry's chest as he watched Draco's annoyed scowl and the way he rubbed his stung shoulder while stalking off with Crabbe and Goyle trailing behind him like oversized shadows.
The rest of the day dragged for Daphne. She sat through her remaining classes with perfect posture, back straight, grey eyes focused forward, but her mind was burning somewhere else entirely. The silver choker around Granger's neck still felt like a personal slap every time she pictured it. A week. A whole week of aching denial after losing on Valentine's— no touching, no relief, just the constant reminder of Roland's words and the way her body had throbbed uselessly every night. She had followed the punishment to the letter, clenching her thighs together in bed, biting her lip until it hurt, but never letting herself cum. Now that week was finally over, and the hunger had only grown sharper.
By the time the final bell rang, Daphne was already moving through the corridors with purpose, her robes swishing around her toned legs. Her heart beat hard and steady against her ribs. She didn't knock when she reached Roland's office. She pushed the heavy door open and stepped inside, closing it firmly behind her with a decisive click.
Roland looked up from his desk, one eyebrow raised in mild surprise at the bold entrance. "Miss Greengrass. Bold entrance."
Daphne locked the door with a quick wave of her wand, the soft snick of the lock sounding final in the quiet room. Her grey eyes were bright, almost feverish, with a mix of frustration, lingering jealousy, and raw hunger. "You gave her the position. In front of the entire class. That choker shining on her neck like some kind of trophy." Her voice stayed controlled, but the edge was sharp enough to cut. "I lost on Valentine's. I took my punishment like a good girl—no cumming for the whole week, just like you ordered. I ached every single night thinking about you. And now you reward her?"
She took a slow step closer, the fabric of her robes whispering against her skin. "I'm family, Roland. I trained all holiday. I bled for this. I pushed myself until my throat was sore and my jaw hurt just so I could take you better than anyone. Let me earn it back. Right now. Please."
Roland leaned back in his chair, studying her with that calm, assessing gaze that always made her stomach tighten. He took his time, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make her shift her weight. "You think you deserve it after losing?"
"Yes," Daphne answered immediately, her voice dropping lower, almost pleading but still carrying that Greengrass pride. "I served my punishment. I didn't touch myself once. I woke up wet and throbbing every morning and still held back because you told me to. Granger might have the shiny title today, but I'm the one who understands what this really means. I'm blood. Let me show you I'm better. Punish me more if you have to, but then use me. Use me however you want."
A slow, satisfied smile crossed Roland's face. He could see the way her thighs pressed together under her robes, the faint flush creeping up her neck. "On your knees then. Strip the robes off first."
Daphne didn't hesitate for even a second. Her fingers went to the fastenings of her outer robes, working them open with quick, practiced movements. The heavy fabric slid from her shoulders and pooled at her feet, revealing the dark green lace set underneath. The elegant bra cupped her full, firm tits perfectly, the delicate material doing little to hide how stiff her pale pink nipples already were. The matching panties hugged the curve of her hips and the rounded swell of her ass, the thin silk already showing a small damp spot at the front from how worked up she was.
She sank gracefully to her knees on the thick rug in front of his desk, back straight, thighs pressed tightly together, looking up at him with that intoxicating mix of pure-blood pride and raw, desperate need. Her blonde hair fell over one shoulder in a silky curtain, and she made no move to fix it. The dark green lace bra pushed her full tits up into a perfect swell, her stiff pink nipples already poking against the delicate fabric. A faint sheen of sweat glistened on her collarbones.
"I've waited a whole week for this," she whispered, voice husky and thick with want. Her grey eyes stayed locked on his cock as it thickened in front of her face. "A whole week of being empty and aching. I woke up every morning with my cunt throbbing and my knickers soaked. I didn't touch myself once. I just laid there clenching and dripping like you ordered. I'm so fucking wet right now just from walking here thinking about you using me again."
{R-18 Scene Roland x Daphne 2161 Full Word Count aFireFist on p.a.t.r.e.o.n.}
"You did well," he said softly, stroking her sweat-damp blonde hair with surprising gentleness. His fingers combed through the strands, pushing them back from her flushed face. "Really well. You took everything I gave you like the good Greengrass girl you are. But Granger won. You'll continue to ache for me again every single day until I say otherwise."
Daphne nodded slowly, still flushed and trembling, her toned body slick with sweat. A mix of deep satisfaction and fresh, burning determination shone in her grey eyes as she looked back at him over her shoulder. "Yes… I understand," she whispered, voice hoarse from moaning and gasping. "I'll be good. I'll wait. I'll ache for you like I'm supposed to."
That same night the castle felt heavier, the stone walls seeming to press in closer as the trio slipped out of Gryffindor Tower well after curfew. They moved under the Invisibility Cloak, Harry leading the way with his heart pounding hard against his ribs. Ron followed close behind, still grumbling quietly about the biting cold that seeped through the fabric. Hermione brought up the rear, moving a little slower than usual. Every careful step sent a deep, sore ache radiating through her body—her pussy and ass still tender and puffy from the thorough fucking the night before. The faint magical warmth of the silver choker around her neck made her skin tingle constantly, a constant reminder that kept her distracted and flushed.
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