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Hermione woke feeling hot and ready for action, her pussy throbbing and wet, nipples hard pebbles, and her breathing erratic. She had to stop this. But ever since her “eighth” year started, she couldn’t help herself. Not with him at the school, too.
The dreams about George had begun when they were spending so much time together at Fred’s bedside while he was still in St. Mungo’s after the battle. Now that Fred was convalescing at the Burrow with his Mum, they had pushed George to get on with his life.
Only, his life didn’t look the way they had expected right now. He had been loathe to open the shop without Fred, and then an opportunity came his way. Professor Flitwick had offered him a position as his apprentice toward a Charms Mastery. Considering how often they used Charms in their inventing, and how much George loved them, this was too good to pass up.
All he had to do in exchange was teach the 1st-3rd year classes. And that is when Hermione’s dreams turned particularly steamy. George on his own had been hot enough. Professor Weasley, who could give and carry out detentions — that was devastating.
Hermione couldn’t possibly ignore the maturity George had developed over the last few years. Physically, his shoulders had broadened and his voice deepened even more. Emotionally, well. She had seen his depths when they were spending time with Fred together. Plus, she had to admit he and Fred were brilliant, but George especially did a lot of the inventing and it was sexier than she could have imagined.
And then — then — she got to see him working with children and Hermione’s ovaries suddenly had something to say as well.
Basically, she was doomed to this helplessly horny existence until the end of the year. Or until she gathered her Gryffindor courage and did something about it.
Only — what was there to do? Something so awful that he would put an eighth year in detention? Merlin, what would be so bad that George would think she deserved punishment?
Casting a quick Tempus, Hermione was frustrated to realize she had only been asleep for a couple of hours. George probably wasn’t even in bed yet. She groaned aloud. Just what she needed — an image of George alone in his bed. But what if he was thinking of her, too?
Like any Professor, George had a room of his own, near the Charms classroom and Professor Flitwick’s suite of rooms. Hermione herself had only lucked into a room alone by virtue of being the only eighth year girl in Gryffindor. There had been talk of putting her with the seventh years, but fortunately their room was full and Hogwarts had provided a room at the top of the tower for her instead.
She wondered idly if he was sleeping yet. Then she realized she had a way to find out! Knowing he had no use for it in the coming year, Harry had given her the Marauder’s Map for the year, telling her with a wink to have some fun with it. Hermione had rolled her eyes at the time, but now it sounded like an amazing idea.
As she scanned the Map, she quickly found his room and the little, pacing set of footprints with ‘George Weasley’ above it. He was awake!
Now she just had to decide if she wanted to do anything with that information or if she was just being creepy and watching him like some kind of obsessed stalker.
Before she could overthink it, Hermione was up and getting dressed. Without putting too much thought into it, she slipped into her full uniform. It was silly, but… if she was going to do this, she wanted to get the fantasy right.
Grabbing the Map and wishing she had Harry’s cloak, Hermione made her way down to the Common Room and, happy no one was around, slipped out the portrait hole. Once, she almost encountered Mrs. Norris, but a quick duck behind a tapestry kept her out of harm’s way. George’s dot was still wandering around his room.
When she got to his door, she was breathless, nervous, and turned on. Thankfully, she was more turned on than anything else. Tucking the map away, she looked down at herself and smiled slowly. She should have thought of it sooner, but she quickly transfigured her skirt shorter and her shirt lower.
Then she knocked, quietly so as not to alert Professor Flitwick next door. George took long enough to come to the door that she was considering knocking again, or just trying a spell to unlock it and going in.
“Hermione?” he asked in surprise, sounding almost as breathless as she felt. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
“I should,” she agreed. “I’m out past curfew, wandering the halls. What are you going to do about it, Professor?”
George blinked at her. “Check how much I had to drink, first of all.”
“Why?” she laughed, wondering if he was going to invite her in or if she should push past him.
“Because I think I’m seeing something straight out of my dreams, and I’m quite certain it will never happen,” George admitted. Putting one hand over his eyes and running it down his face out of embarrassment, he gestured her inside with the other hand as he added, “And because I’ve clearly had too much to be talking to you.”
“Oh, I think you’ve had the perfect amount,” Hermione purred as she moved into the center of his room. Was he really saying he had been dreaming about her, too? “But you haven’t really answered my question. Don’t you think I deserve a detention? A punishment with you?”
“Again, not sure this is real,” George said, but then he grinned. “I don’t usually have this much control when I’m dreaming, but I guess I shouldn’t complain. What do I want to do to Hermione Granger if she shows up at my door after curfew dressed like a naughty schoolgirl?”
He tapped his finger on his chin as though he were thinking, his eyes running over her, taking her in. Hermione was dying to say something, but she felt a tension in the air that told her to wait.
When George spoke again, his voice was deeper, rougher, and far more commanding. “You’ve been a very bad girl, haven’t you? I could give you a detention scrubbing cauldrons or writing lines, but I don’t think that would improve a naughty girl like you.”
He stalked toward her as he spoke, then circled her as if considering. “Do you think those would be good enough punishments for you?” he asked.
“No,” she responded.
Stepping into her space, he put a finger under her chin, turning her head up to look him in the eyes. “That’s ‘No, Sir’ to you, Miss Granger.”
“Yes, Sir,” she agreed, feeling a gush in her skimpy little knickers. They were soaked already so it hardly mattered.
George gave her a stern look before letting go of her chin. “I think punishing you calls for something a bit more forceful. What do you think of that?”
“Yes, please, Sir. I need to learn my lesson,” Hermione told him, almost whining with need.
“Why don’t you go over to my desk,” he said, indicating a writing desk against the wall. This might be better done in his office, but Hermione liked being in his personal space. “And bend over it.”
She did as he said, so thrilled that he was unknowingly acting out exactly what she had been dying for him to do. George walked over behind her, then surprised her by pushing down on her lower back. “Push your arse up for me, Miss Granger.”
“Why, Sir?” she asked, though she certainly hoped she knew.
To her shock, George grabbed her hair and forcefully pulled her head back so that she could see him. “It is not acceptable to question me.”
Hermione shifted, trying to get friction on her overheated core, but his hands moving to her hips stilled her. “You are a naughty, naughty girl, aren’t you? Look how short your skirt is. And those skimpy little knickers underneath. I can see your arse cheeks. Which is perfect since I’ll be able to see the handprints I put on them.”
She gasped, thrilled and slightly terrified at the same time. Hermione wanted the fantasy so badly but she was just slightly afraid she wouldn’t like the reality. “What if it hurts me, Sir?” she asked tremulously, looking at him over her shoulder.
George’s expression softened slightly and he brushed a curl out of her face as he said, “It’s supposed to hurt, love. But if it’s too much, say ‘Red’ and I’ll stop.”
A little shocked, especially since George still seemed convinced this was a dream, Hermione was relieved to know she had a way out if she didn’t like it. She was so busy thinking about it that she wasn’t prepared when a hand came down hard on her practically bare arse. She squealed with surprise and George laughed, rubbing the spot he had just spanked.
“I want you to thank me after each one and tell me you’re sorry for being out past curfew dressed like a slag.”
“Yes, Sir,” she agreed. “Thank you. I’m sorry for being out past curfew dressed like a,” she faltered on the last word, but couldn’t deny it was true, “slag.” Somehow saying it made her even more turned on, especially with his hand massaging her before pulling back again for a second spank.
Her response was quicker this time, “Thank you, Sir. I’m sorry for being out past curfew dressed like a slag.”
George was on the sixth spanking before it hurt enough that Hermione was starting to cry. “That’s right,” he said. “We want you to feel genuinely sorry about it, don’t we?”
“Yes, Sir,” she answered as his hand came down on her reddened bottom again. “Thank you, Sir. I’m sorry for being out past curfew and—”
He cut her off with two more spankings close together. Her voice was trembling as she sobbed this time, but she still thanked him and apologized as she was supposed to. “That’s right,” George said. “You’re being a good girl now. Just one more.”
She sighed in relief until he brought his hand down on her one last time, hard enough to push her down against the table. Hermione cried out as her legs buckled, in too much pain to say anything. To her surprise, George’s strong arms caught her, hoisting her up and carrying her to the little sofa in front of his fireplace.
Cooing to her, he said, “There now, you did so good, Miss Granger. Don’t cry now.” He began kissing her tears, moving ever closer to her mouth, and suddenly he was there, his lips pressed to hers and his tongue begging entry. She opened for him, even as she was still crying from the feel of his rough trousers against her abused arse.
Seeming to instinctively know what was bothering her, George moved his hand under her, though that was torture in a new way. When he finally pulled back from the kiss, he said, “We’ll need to put some salve on you so you can sit down tomorrow. Take your knickers off.”
“Yes, Sir,” Hermione said quietly, doing as he bid. Her legs would barely hold her as she wriggled out of the scrap of fabric she had been wearing. Not sure what he wanted her to do next, she hovered next to him until George yanked her down across his lap.
He flipped her skirt up so that she was exposed to him and then began rubbing a potion into her skin. “There. This should help. You’ll be able to feel just enough to remember what we’ve done, but you won’t show any signs of it and you can sit well enough tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Sir,” she mumbled into the sofa. She felt vulnerable with his hands on her like this, especially as, lying across his lap, she could feel his arousal and knew that it was larger than anything she had experienced before. Merlin, she wanted to experience it.
“Do you think you’ve learned your lesson?” George asked as he pulled her to an upright position, keeping her on his lap.
“Maybe, Sir,” she told him, hoping he was going to take things farther.
“Only maybe?” George asked, sounding surprised. “You’ve never said that before.”
Hermione couldn’t help but giggle. He still seemed to think he was dreaming. “Maybe that’s because it’s real this time,” she suggested.
“Can’t be,” he argued without explanation as he nuzzled his face into her neck. “Turn around, love,” George begged.
Hermione did, awkwardly having to step up from his lap, arse still hurting but nothing like before, in order to get in the position he wanted her in.
“There you go,” George said with a smile. “So you’re not sure you’ve been punished enough?” he asked.
“No, Sir,” Hermione said.
“And what else do you think you need to learn?” he asked, staring into her eyes as he slowly began to unbutton her shirt.
Hermione was breathing hard when she said, “Maybe you should stick your cock down my throat and,” she hesitated to say the words, but Merlin she wanted it, and she had come this far already, “choke me with it while you fuck my face.”
Sucking in a deep breath, George said, “That could be arranged, though I want to play with these glorious tits first.” By now, he had uncovered her braless breasts, his hands gliding over them followed by his hot mouth. Hermione moaned for him when he ran his tongue round the tight bud of a nipple. “That’s right, Miss Granger. I can give you all kinds of pleasure if you’ll keep being a good girl for me.”
He took his time, working her up and getting his trousers wet from her juices and his own weeping cock. When she ran her hand down his covered length, she could feel the spot, stopping to give extra attention there. “Please, Sir. Let me take care of your cock for you,” she begged.
Finally he relented, when Hermione thought she might burst from just his touch on her breasts, George suddenly stopped, pushing her gently down to the floor. “We’re going to work on the rest of your punishment now,” he said. Adding, “If you’re sure,” as he gazed into her eyes, assessing whether she was serious or not.
“Yes, Sir,” she answered, knowing that the look on her face was one of lust rather than fear.
The two of them worked together to get his trousers and pants down and then off, giving him leverage to have her between his legs. Hermione was even more impressed by the size of his cock now that she could see it, long and thick, everything she could have dreamed of.
She started slow, licking him from the bottom up before playing with the head, running her fingers around the tip before lapping up his precum, tasting the salty goodness there. George hardly had time to react before she had him in her mouth, sliding down over him and picking up the pace. Hermione wanted him as far gone as she was.
Before long, George was groaning. He put his head on the back of her head and, as she took him as deeply as she could manage, he said, “I think you wanted to feel me in your throat while I fuck your face. I’m sure you regret that now that you know how big I am, but I can’t wait.”
With that, he pushed her just that much farther down, letting her gag and struggle for a moment before releasing her. “Are you learning your lesson?” he asked when he pulled her off his cock.
“Yes, Sir,” she gasped.
Then his hands were in her hair again and his cock at her mouth, thrusting in and out as fast as he could, making her gag and nearly come herself from the intensity of him using her. It was very sudden when he pulled out and pushed her away.
“I’m done with your mouth,” George said. “Come sit on my cock. Unless you think you can’t take it.”
“I can take it, Sir,” Hermione affirmed, though honestly she was a little afraid of what it would feel like.
Seeing her expression, George pulled her in for a kiss before settling her on his lap again, his cock between them. “I’ll be easy with you, love, and you’re on top so you control how fast or slow we take it.”
“Okay,” she acknowledged, yelping when he gave her a swat on the arse. “Yes, Sir,” she corrected.
“Good girl,” he murmured, running his fingers along her slit. “You’re so wet for me. It’s time you let me bury my cock in there.”
“Yes, Sir, Please.”
George lifted her slightly, so that she could position him at her entrance. Slowly, he lowered her and Hermione began to work him inside her tight pussy. “We can stop and prepare you if you need to,” he panted.
“No, Sir,” she said, equally breathless. “I like it.”
“Of course you do, naughty girl,” George said with a grin, tweaking her nipple before capturing her lips.
His cock stretched her, but she did love the feel of it. Before long, she was bouncing on him, letting him thrust up into her as they both became more and more erratic in their lust-driven quest for release.
“Are you going to be a good girl and come for me?” George demanded, his voice shaking with the effort of holding back.
“Yes, Sir,” she said, coming so hard she gushed around his cock as he spurted inside her.
Hermione collapsed against George, both of them falling back into the sofa as they tried to catch their breath.
When Hermione looked at him, George was staring at her with wide eyes. “This wasn’t a dream this time,” he stated with surety.
“No, though much of it has happened in my dreams, too.”
He huffed a laugh. “If we hadn’t just… done what we did, I would say you’re joking.”
“No, Sir,” Hermione said with a grin.
“Well, they do say that a dream really is a wish—”
“Your heart makes,” Hermione finished.
Looking at her closely, George asked, “Is your heart involved in this?”
Hermione wasn’t sure what to say, how much more of herself she was willing to reveal this night.
“Because mine is,” George said softly. “And as much fun as this was, as much as I want to play Professor and naughty student again, I want more, too.”
“That’s what I want, too, Professor,” Hermione answered, her dreams really coming true before her eyes.