The Sorting, Part 1

"Literal horseless carriages, huh," Hermione muttered as she stepped up onto the running board of the nearest one, "guess someone thought they were being clever when they came up with that one." Rose smiled, but didn't bother to correct her as she followed close behind. The two witches already inside shuffled over to make room, the blonder of the two wearing a glassy thousand-yard stare that made Hermione's heart pound. Fuck, she thought, she looks so vapid! Like she's nothing but an empty-headed bimbo... "You alright there, Luna," Rose asked casually as she sat down next to the girl, while Hermione took the space opposite her and immediately lifted her skirt to rub at her barely-covered pussy, "is this one going to be a big one?"

"H-Hi Rose," Luna panted, still staring into space, "I... I can feel it's gonna be sssssomething important, y-yeah." Her eyes focused for an instant, locking gazes with Hermione before she began to shudder, her hips bucking and legs shaking. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, it's coming! I can-" Hermione jumped slightly in her seat as a hoarse moan tore its way out of Luna's throat, a new one seeming to underlay every syllable of what came next, overlapping and reverberating around the confines of the carriage. "I can see all of us! All of us enslaved by the big, bad basilisk! Submit to the serpent! Worship it! Worship the basilisk!" The blonde's eyes crossed and rolled up, spit dripping from her lolling tongue into her cleavage as she lapsed into a drooling, fuckdumb trance.

"Oh, wow, she's in deep with this one," Rose mused, before glancing over and seeing the half-aroused, half-befuddled expressions on her fellow passengers' faces. "Sorry, forgot you'd never have met her before. This," she gestured to the quivering blonde, "is Luna Lovegood; girl's got seer blood, but it only ever seems to manifest to tell her about truly life-changing fuckfests." The other girl they'd joined snorted in amusement. "I don't need a seer to tell me I'm going to spend all year pinned under one Slytherin or another," she joked, "it'll be hard not to when I'll be in the Sluttyrim dorm rooms."

"I thought houses didn't get assigned until after we arrived," Hermione asked.

"Yeah, they say that," the girl scoffed, "but my family's gone into it for almost as long as we've got records for, and I don't plan on that changing just because somebody cursed my dad to never be able to have kids with a proper witch." Hermione was torn between being appalled and impressed at the girl's ability to put an audible sneer in her voice without it showing on her face, while Rose just rolled her eyes. "Arrogant, prejudiced, and hung up on the family tree," the black-haired witch shot back, "never mind being a half-blood, you could be half-gnome and you'd be a shoe-in for Sluttyrim." The air almost crackled with hostility - possibly literally, given how both women stroked their holstered wands - before a wide grin broke across both of their faces and Rose chuckled. "Just leave some of those pureblood pussy-pounders for me, yeah?"

"If you can't tempt them, you don't deserve them," the girl answered breezily, before turning to Hermione. "I don't believe we've met," she smiled, "because I'd definitely remember a body like that. Tracey Davis, pleased to meet you."

She stuck out a hand to shake and, in a fit of whimsy, Hermione grabbed Tracey's wrist and pulled her hand up to grope one of her tits. "I can guess where Potter's going," Tracey continued, as if she wasn't currently taking Hermione up on the unspoken offer and molesting her chest, "but how about you?" Hermione bit her lip and thought hard for a moment, but the faint impression that she'd ever had an opinion remained just that.

"I'm not sure," she replied, "I remember doing a lot of reading over the summer in preparation, but..."

"Muggleborn, then," Tracey finished for her. "Well, if you were already reading up before you even arrived then I'd normally say you were heading into BrainyPAWG, maybe Sluttyrim like me. Then again..." She glanced down at Hermione's tattoos for emphasis. "...you certainly look like a Greedywhore to me - or a Hornycunt, with prices that low." Hermione raised an eyebrow at the verbal jab, but didn't let it upset her; after all, she'd more than make up for the lost revenue by pricing all of her competition out of the market. "Don't worry, just remember that Slytherin and Sluttyrim have a long, thick snake as their symbol for a reason," she punctuated her words by giving Hermione's nipple a quick pinch, "and you'll do just fine."

Something about Tracey's far-from-gentle 'massage' of her breast had left Hermione's thoughts slow and sticky, like she was trying to move through molasses, and that pinch snapped her back to reality sharply. She immediately fumbled for her wand, fingers shaking from the roiling, churning furnace that her core had abruptly become, and tugged the front of her thong aside before slamming all sixteen inches into her dripping pussy. Immediately, her hips bucked and her folds clamped down around the intruder with such **** that it shot right back out again with a crackling burst of raw, unformed magic and a veritable firehose of pussy juice, the heavy wooden truncheon landing between Luna's feet as Hermione's juices soaked the insides of the still-senseless blonde's thighs.

Rose and Tracey grinned at each other across the carriage as Luna and Hermione slowly came down from their climaxes, the burst of power apparently having knocked the seer out of her reverie. By the time Tracey had graciously tidied both girls up with a flick of her wand - a girthy, ribbed shaft of dark wood as long as Rose's - and Rose had sucked Hermione's clean, the lamplit convoy was rolling to a stop in front of Hogwarts' massive front doors. Tracey gave Hermione's chest one last squeeze and slipped away through the crowd of women towards a pair of stacked, dark-haired girls and their bottom-heavy blonde companion, greeting them with a grin and a slap on the blonde's bubble butt.

Hermione's attention was pulled back to her immediate surroundings by the arrival of Ginny, hair mussed and a heavy blush adorning her freckled features as she strode up to Luna and immediately locked the shorter girl in a sloppy, cum-filled kiss. The brunette left them to their snowballing and looked around again, frowning slightly as she noticed a decided absence of any potential johns. "Where are all-" my customers "-the male students? I know we got off the train at the same time."

"Male students are sorted first, Miss Granger," a sharp voice answered from behind her, and she whirled around to see a translucent figure in a low-cut dress and corset slid through the nearest wall. "Barring the tenures of headmasters Dippet and Dumbledore, who combined the male and female houses, this is always how the sorting has worked." The ghostly woman's expression softened slightly. "Then again, I suppose that puts the usual state of affairs a bit before your time, given how long those two were around." She looked over the assembled female students, smirking at the sight of so many stares from the first years among them. "Second years and above, proceed inside and take your seats; first years, wait here until your name is called and proceed to the seat at the far end of the hall when it is - I'm sure you'll be able to figure out what to do from there without any assistance."

Hermione watched the majority of the scantily-clad girls make their way inside as the double doors creaked open, splitting her attention between their swaying rears and the astonishing sight of a cloudless night sky where the ceiling of the room beyond should be. All around her, the remaining students - or rather, she supposed, students-to-be - waited with varying degrees of nervous energy, the muggleborn among their number clearly visible by their reactions to the sorting methods they were imagining. Hermione, for her part, wasn't particularly concerned, even as a blonde by the name of Hannah Abbot was called in through the doors. She and Susan Bones seemed to be sorted within a minute of entry, but Lavender Brown - whose appearance seemed familiar, though Hermione couldn't recall exactly where from, or why the sight of the girl made her pussy feel so hot - took almost five.

She gave up trying to spot a pattern as their ghostly chaperone worked her way down the list, tapping a frantic beat out on her thigh with two fingers as her nerves began to creep up on her. Would it be some kind of challenge? No standardised questions, given how quickly some girls had apparently finished, but perhaps a display of magic of some kind? Oh god, she'd had all of her theory knowledge sucked out of her! No, maybe it was instinctual, like when Ollivander had been fitting her for her wa-

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione straightened her posture, shimmied her way through the much-reduced crowd and took a deep breath, before strutting forwards into the hall.

AN: At least three parts to this, and I've omitted the introduction of the Sorting Hat; partly because I didn't want to write a song for it, partly because I wanted there to be time for debauchery to properly start up before Hermione walked into the hall, partly to be contrary, and partly to give you lovely people a last chance to suggest alternative objects for sorting female students!