A fight in the Griffendor common room

(All charcters are 18+)

The Gryffindor common room was nearly deserted, the low murmur of the Great Hall's breakfast crowd a distant echo. The morning light filtered through the tall windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Harry and Ron sat in worn armchairs, pretending to read textbooks they hadn't turned a page of in twenty minutes. Ginny stood by the fireplace, ostensibly studying the flames, but her posture was rigid, coiled with a tension that had nothing to do with O.W.L.s. Her school blouse did little to hide the fact she was still braless, her body tender from yeserdays attention and embarrassment.

When Hermione descended the girls' staircase, her expression was carefully composed, a mask of academic concern. "Ginny! There you are. I was worried when you left the library so abruptly yesterday. Madam Pince mentioned you were quite distressed."

She approached, her hand resting lightly on Ginny's shoulder. "I hope you're feeling better. Sometimes public scrutiny, however unpleasant, serves as a catalyst for personal growth. A lesson in accountability, if you will."

Ginny slowly turned, her eyes burning with an intensity that made Hermione's practiced smile falter. The casual condescension was the spark. Ginny shrugged off the hand and stood, her movements deliberate.

"A lesson," Ginny repeated, her voice dangerously quiet. "Yes. I believe a lesson is precisely what's needed. And you're the one who'll be learning it."

Hermione let out a short, nervous laugh. "Ginny, don't be absurd. After all you put me through? It was nothing, a simple jinx. A momentary lapse in your concentration. If anything I helped you. Every boy in the school will be clamoring for a moment with the famous Ginny Weasley now."

"It wasn't nothing," Ginny countered, her voice gaining strength. "It was deliberate. You set it in motion. And now, you're going to understand the full scope of what you initiated." She glanced at Harry and Ron. "You owe me. Both of you. Are you with me?"

Ron looked from his sister's pale, resolute face to Hermione's bewildered expression. His long-standing, unspoken affection for her clashed with his loyalty to Ginny. Loyalty, fueled by the memory of Ginny's humiliation the night before, won out. "For you, Gin. Whatever it takes."

Harry felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He cared for Hermione deeply. The thought of being part of her discomfort was abhorrent. "Ginny, perhaps we should just... talk this through. Rationally."

"The professor was quite clear!" Ginny snapped, her voice cracking slightly. "He said we had to handle it ourselves! That we had to be brave! Are you going to let what happened to me be meaningless?" Her voice broke on the last word, and Harry's resolve crumbled. He gave a single, miserable nod.

"Good," Ginny said, a chilling smile touching her lips.

The mundane setting of the public common room, as empty as it was during mealtime, was earily disarming. This was aupposed to be a safe place. Hermione's confidence wavered, replaced by a prickle of unease. The moment Ginny nodded, Hermione's wand was in her hand.

"Expelliarmus!" she shouted, but Ginny was faster, her own wand already drawn.

"Protego!" Ginny cast, a shimmering shield deflecting the spell. "Finite Incantatem!" Ginny countered, her voice sharp. The disarming spell hit Hermione's wand, but it only flew a few feet, landing on a nearby table. Hermione lunged for it.

"Ron, stop her!" Ginny yelled.

Ron moved, his heart pounding. He grabbed Hermione's arm, his touch gentle despite the circumstances. "Hermione, don't."

"Let go of me, you traitor!" she shrieked, twisting in his grip. She stomped on his foot, hard, and he yelped, letting go. She scrambled for her wand.

"Incarcerous!" she shouted, pointing it at Ginny. Ropes shot from her wand, wrapping around Ginny's breasts, threatening to burst them out of her blouse.

But Ginny was ready. "Diffindo!" she cast, slashing the ropes to pieces. "You're technically proficient, Hermione, but you're predictable. You think your knowledge of textbooks makes you invincible. Now, enough games!"

While Hermione was focused on Ginny, Harry tackled her from the side. It was a clumsy, **** move. They went down in a heap of limbs. Hermione was the better witch, but they had the advantage of numbers and sheer recklessness.

"Ron, help!" Harry grunted, struggling to hold her flailing arms.

Ron knelt, his face a mask of misery as he helped Harry pin Hermione's wrists to the floor. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he whispered, his face close to hers. She spat in his face, serving only to strengthen his resolve.

Ginny stood over them, her chest heaving, her own nipples visible through her thin blouse. "Her robes," she commanded, her voice cold. "The professor said we have to expose the affliction."

Harry looked down at the struggling witch beneath him, his friend. "Ginny, no..."

"Do it, Harry! Or I'll do it myself, and it won't be gentle!"

Swallowing his pride, Harry fumbled with the clasp of her school robes. With a tug, he pulled them open, revealing her blouse and skirt. Ron, looking away, helped pull them from her shoulders. Hermione kicked and thrashed, her face a mask of fury and humiliation. "Get off me! You'll all be expelled for this!"

A wave of hot shame washed over Hermione as she realized they were in the common room, not a private space. Anyone could walk in at any moment. The thought made her squirm, her movements becoming more frantic.

"The blouse," Ginny ordered.

Ron's trembling fingers went to the buttons, his knuckles brushing against her skin. He undid them one by one, his gaze fixed on the floor, ashamed of the traitorous part of him that couldn't help but notice the beautiful soft skin beneath his fingers. Heroine's white bra was now exposed.

"Excellent," Ginny nodded, pacing. "Now, we begin the intellectual portion of your lesson, Hermione. Since you prize yourself so highly on knowing all the answers." Ginny's eyes gleamed with a predatory light. "Question one: What is the primary distinction between a werewolf and a werewolf-prone individual, and what specific potion ingredient is altered in the Wolfsbane Potion for the latter?"

Hermione, despite her position, tried to focus, her mind racing. "The... the distinction is that a werewolf-prone individual carries the latent gene but may not transform under a full moon unless bitten. The Wolfsbane Potion for them requires powdered Grindelwald's Root instead of the standard monkshood. It's in 'Advanced Potion-Making,' chapter twelve." Her voice trembled slightly as Ron's fingers brushed against her stomach as he held open her blouse.

Ginny's smile tightened. "Correct. But you're arrogant. Let's try something more obscure. Question two: In the 14th century, what was the primary function of the Wizengamot's now-defunct Committee for the Reversal of Experimental Transfigurations, and what was the name of the famous case involving a partially transfigured wizard that led to its dissolution?"

Hermione hesitated, her mind clouded by the humiliation of being exposed in the common room. She could feel the cool air on her skin, and the thought of someone walking in made her heart pound. "The... the committee was formed to oversee the reversal of unauthorized or failed human transfigurations. The case was... it was... the case of Emeric the Evil, wasn't it?" Her voice wavered as she tried to maintain composure.

"Wrong," Ginny said, her voice sharp. "It was the case of Elfrida the Clumsy in 1473. For your ignorance..." Ginny looked at Harry. "Harry, you will assist me by stimulating the secondary energy centers. Her breasts."

Harry's face was scarlet. "Ginny, please..."

"Now, Harry! Or are you a coward?"

With a choked sob, Harry reached out with hands that felt like they belonged to someone else. He could feel the warmth of her skin, the rapid beat of her heart. He began to caress her cleavage above her bra, his touch clumsy and apologetic. Hermione let out a choked sob, her body jerking.

"Don't look away from her, Harry," Ginny snapped. "This is a lesson in observation."

"Her hands will try to interfere," Ginny continued, turning to Ron. "You are to prevent this. If she attempts to cover herself, you will seize her wrists and hold them at her sides." With a swish her her wand, Ginny tapped Hermione's bra, instantly tearing it into a thousand shreds. "Diffindo!"

As if on cue, Hermione's hands shot up to push Harry away and cover herself. Ron moved instantly, grabbing her wrists. "Ron, please," she begged, her voice breaking.

"I have to, Hermione," he mumbled, his face averted as he pinned her arms to her sides. The position **** her naked breasts to jut upwards, her hard nipples pointing at the ceiling.

"Very good," Ginny praised. "Now, question three: What is the magical principle behind the Fidelius Charm, and what is the theoretical maximum number of Secret-Keepers a single secret can have before the charm becomes unstable and risks catastrophic failure?"

Hermione's breath hitched as Harry's fingers brushed against her nipple. She tried to focus on the question, but the humiliation of being exposed and touched in the common room was overwhelming. "The Fidelius Charm... it conceals a secret within a living soul, the Secret-Keeper. The secret cannot be found unless the Keeper reveals it. The maximum number... it's... it's theoretically unlimited, as long as the Keepers are bound by a mutual confundus charm to maintain consistency." Her voice was shaky, and she couldn't stop her train of thought. The sensation of Harry's hesitant touch, coupled with the shame of her exposure, was short-circuiting her brilliant mind.

"So close, but one detail is wrong again," Ginny said, her voice clipped and cold. "The maximum, while presumed to be unlimited by some, is actually three. For your continued failure..." Ginny's eyes narrowed. "Harry, squeeze the full weight of them. Remind her how exposed she is."

Harry's hands trembled as he followed the command, cupping and gently squeezing the soft flesh of her breasts. The weight of them in his palms made Hermione whimper, her back arching involuntarily. The cool air of the common room on her bare skin was a constant, humiliating reminder of her vulnerability.

Just then, the portrait hole swung open. Neville Longbottom walked in, head down, muttering about a missing textbook. He looked up, his eyes widening as he took in the scene: Hermione on the floor, half-undressed, with Harry and Ron pinning her down. His face went beet red, and he froze for a second, his mouth agape. He quickly averted his gaze, muttered an apology, and practically fled back out the portrait hole, his footsteps echoing his haste to escape.

The brief interruption sent a fresh wave of mortification crashing over Hermione. Being seen by Neville, of all people, was almost worse than being caught by a professor. Her squirming intensified, a ****, futile attempt to cover herself.

"Excellent," Ginny nodded, a cruel satisfaction in her eyes. "Now, question four: Describe the specific magical properties of the Elder Wand's core, and explain why it is uniquely susceptible to mastery through disarming rather than mere ownership."

Hermione's mind reeled, trying to access the vast library of knowledge she prided herself on, but Harry's hands on her breasts were a constant, distracting pressure. "The core... it's... ahhhh! A Thestral tail-hair," she stammered, her voice breathy. "It's... it's powerful because of the connection to **** and... mmmm... and it changes allegiance... because... because the wand is a vessel for intent, and disarming is a demonstration of superior magical will..." She trailed off, uncertain.

"Incorrect," Ginny stated, her voice devoid of emotion. "The core is Thestral hair, yes, but you failed to mention its unique ability to channel both life and **** magic. For that lapse..." Ginny's gaze fell upon Ron. "Her hands are occupied. Harry, you will hold her wrists. Ron, you will remove her skirt. Remind her how many questions she is getting wrong."

Harry reluctantly released her breasts and moved to pin her wrists above her head. Ron, his face a mask of horror and **** curiosity, slowly lowered his hand to her stomach. His fingers trembled as they made contact with the warm, soft skin. He began to tuck his fingers into the waistband just below her navel, his touch hesitant but undeniably intimate. Hermione let out a strangled cry, her body tensing at the new, more personal enbarassment, as ron pulled her skirt down her bare legs, leaving her in nothing but her pink knickers.

"Question five," Ginny continued relentlessly. "What is the primary ingredient in a Felix Felicis potion that requires it to be brewed under a specific celestial event, and what is that event?"

Hermione's breath hitched. Ron's fingers on her stomach were sending jolts of unwanted heat through her. "Felix Felicis... it's... the ingredient is... it's... a Occamy eggshell?" she guessed, her mind clouded by shame. "And it has to be brewed... during a new moon?"

"Wrong," Ginny's voice was sharp. "It's a Spriggan's egg, and it must be added at the exact moment of a solar eclipse. For such a basic error..." Ginny stepped forward, her own expression unreadable. She reached down and grabbed Ron's wrist, guiding his hand lower, past her stomach, and under the hem of her panties. She didnt stop until his trembling fingers brushed against the damp curls of her sex, wedged fully down her panties. Both Ron and Hermione gasped, their eyes wide with shock.

"Ginny!" Ron choked out, trying to pull his hand out but Ginny's grip was like iron.

"You will," she commanded, her voice low and dangerous. "You will hold her there. Remind her of her vulnerability."

Ron's fingers, now pressed against Hermione's most intimate place, were shaking uncontrollably. Hermione was frozen, her mind a blank slate of humiliation and a terrifying, burgeoning arousal. The feeling of Ron's hesitant touch, so close to her clit, was a violation so profound it stole her breath.

"Question six," Ginny's voice cut through the haze. "What is the name of the magical law that prohibits the creation of new sentient magical beings, and what is the only known exception to this law, documented in 1782?"

Hermione's mind was a whirlwind of sensation and shame. She couldn't think. "The law... it's... it's the... the Ban on Experimental Breeding?" she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. "And the exception... I... I don't know..."

"The law is the Clause on the Prohibition of Artificially-Induced Sentience," Ginny corrected, her voice cold. "The exception was the homunculus created by Gerbert Ollivander, which was deemed sentient but not a new species. For your failure..." Ginny looked at Harry, who was still pinning Hermione's wrists. "Destroy her knickers."

Harry's knelt on her hands, keeping them in place, then pulled out his wand, shaking ever so slightly. "Diffendo" he said with a hesitant but now curious tone, aiming at her knickers. They split, leaving Hermione entire naked, revealing Ron's hand intertwined in her pubic curls. Despite Ron's protests, he was taking this part seriously, as two fingers were eagerly spreading her lips when the material unwraveled.

The complete exposure was agonizingly intimate, making Hermione squirm and gasp. Each brush of Ron's fingertips against her vulva was a fresh wave of embarrassment.

"Question seven," Ginny pressed on. "What is the magical theory behind the Unbreakable Vow, and what is the specific term for the magical 'binder' who witnesses the vow?"

Hermione was losing the battle. The combination of Ron's fingers pressed against her core and Harry's hands, voluntarily returning to her breasts, was too much. "The theory... eeeeek! it's... it's a binding of life forces," she panted, her body trembling. "The binder is... is the... the witness?"

"Wrong," Ginny's voice was merciless. "The theory is the creation of a metaphysical tether between the vower's soul and their promise. The binder is called the 'Bonder'. For your continued ignorance..." Ginny's eyes gleamed with a dark light. "Harry, bite her nipples. Ron, I want you to slide one finger inside her. Just one. To remind her of her place."

Harry's hands slid to her nipples, his thumbs brushing against the sensitive skin, prepping it before leaning over and popping one in his mouth. Ron, with an increasing eagerness, also obeyed. He slowly, hesitantly, slid one finger all the way into her wet heat. Hermione cried out, her body arching off the floor as a wave of intense, humiliating pleasure washed over her. The feeling of being so completely exposed, so utterly at their mercy, was a torment that was quickly becoming something else, something she couldn't bear to name.

"It's... it's... aaaaaah!" she screamed, her body convulsing. Her back arched violently off the floor, her legs shaking uncontrollably. A powerful orgasm ripped through her, far more intense than anything she had ever felt before. Wave after wave of humiliating pleasure crashed over her as the three of them held her down and **** it from her body. She could feel herself clenching around Ron's finger, her fluids coating his hand as her inner walls spasmed for the next minute and a half.

Ginny kept her gaze locked on Hermione's face as she came, a cold, triumphant smile on her lips. "There," she said, her voice returning to its normal calm tone as she finally nodded to Ron, who reluctantly withdrew his finger. "The spirit has been fully expelled. The procedure is complete."

Ginny stood up and calmy walked to the door leading out. Harry and Ron held on to Hermione's exhausted, naked form as if she would die if they let go. Ginny calmly declared that she was going to see if there was any breakfast left, before stepping out. She left the door open as a flood of students were headed back to the common room, stepping past her one by one.