She goes in search of satisfaction

Hermione stared at Harry for several seconds, trying to figure out what was going on. She thought she remembered something about... life ****? She hoped he wasn't dead. She did love him, after all. But right now she had bigger problems.

Her breasts were slowly beginning to shrink, and she felt the fire between her legs wavering somewhat, and she smiled brightly as she realised why - the bimbo potion must be expiring. Well, that's easy enough, she thought to herself. I just need to take some more.

She had the bottle in her hands, and poured out a teaspoon, but hesitated before drinking it. She vaguely recalled reading something about the potion being - what was it now. Permanent? But she was struggling to remember why that was a problem. Yes, she would be less smart than before - but she already knew what that was like. Worrying about stuff all the time, having to work all day, doing all those complicated problems - she was having a hard time figuring out why smart Hermione was better than bimbo Hermione. Now, she was sexy, and she got to have lots of sex. When she contemplated having to give that up, it was a no-brainer. She swallowed the potion, sighing with relief as she felt her curves return to their perfect size. All she needed now was someone to fuck.

Dean Thomas distractedly threw the quaffle back to Ron Weasley, who had to jump across the dormitory to catch it. "I'm telling you mate, muggle sports are really fun, whether to play or to watch."

"Not really very fast though, are they?" commented Seamus.

"Well, football's not as fast as quidditch, but it's got just as much strategy," Dean defended, glancing at his West Ham poster. "And if you want something fast, there's handball - or even formula one."

"Nan always said all muggle sports are beneath wizards," hummed Neville.

"I think that probably helps his argument," laughed Ron. "But seriously, Dean, you'd rather play football than quidditch?"

"I didn't say that," Dean admitted. "I'm just saying, don't knock it till you've tried it, that's -"

"Hey, boys."

Dean looked round in surprise at the sultry feminine voice that came from the doorway. For an instant, he saw a gorgeous young woman who could only be Hermione, dressed in awfully revealing lingerie, leaning provocatively against the doorframe.

He quickly averted his eyes, as did Seamus and Neville.

"Merlin, Hermione!" exclaimed Seamus. "Whatever happened to knocking?!"

Ron hurried over to her with a cloak, attempting to cover her with it. "What are you doing here, Hermione?" he hissed. "What ha... wait, what happened to you?"

"Nothing," sighed Hermione - though when Dean dared to look, he realised she was different. Somehow more lustrous, more... curvy. "I just got lost somehow, and I need some big, strong men to help me."

"She sounds like she's been cursed," offered Neville worriedly. "Maybe some kind of love potion."

"C'mon, Hermione," said Ron firmly. "Let's get you to Professor Slughorn, hopefully he can help."

He tried to gently direct nudge her shoulder in the right direction, but she resisted, throwing off the cloak. "Won't any of you help? I'm soooo thirsty right now." She eyed the Gryffindor boys with a hunger that made Dean distinctly uncomfortable.

"Errr, sorry," said Dean awkwardly.

"Come on Hermione," urged Ron, glancing at his friends embarrassedly. "You can talk about it with Slughorn all you like."

The witch pouted. "Fine. I can't believe you're making me do this, but -" she raised her wand. "Erotica maxima."