Outcasts | 5 Slytherins 1 Hermione | REVERSE HAREM

I

Hermione steps into the scalding shower, hissing at the sensation of the water burning her skin. The pain sends tingles through her whole body. The first time she did this, it was a punishment. She had to feel the pain, to let it ground her, to let it bring her back to herself.

Now she did it for a completely different reason. She enjoys the sensation, the burning. She does this in low moments when nothing else works. It was her little secret. The only problem was, she was beginning to scare herself. She's been having thoughts, only when she lets her mind wander on its own for a moment. Thoughts that would have her friends sending her to the psychiatric floor at St. Mungo's.

Hermione let the water run over her body, every stream sending a wave of tingles through her. She couldn't help but gasp at the feeling. She looks down, and her skin looks like she spent the day in the sun with no protection. The heat burns, and she knows she should change the temperature, but she can't make herself do it.

She would gladly let her skin melt off for just a moment of reprieve from the mental anguish that has trapped her. Overwhelmed by the sensation she lets her hand wander her body. She touches her neck and slides her hand down to her breast. Flashes of silver eyes and calloused hands run through her mind.

She gasps when she pinches her nipple the way he did before sliding her hand down her torso slowly. She makes her way to her throbbing core and slides her finger through her folds. It's his hands she imagines, the only hands thats ever made her feel so high on touch alone.

Her free hand wraps around her throat as she begins rubbing circles on her clit. She cuts off her own airway while speeding up the menstruations. She can see his forearm flexing while choking her, his eyes boring into hers with an intensity that sends shivers down her spine. She quickly feels her orgasm climbing.

This is the only way she can find release anymore, especially since the end of the war. Because, of course, nothing can just go back to the way it was; nothing can be easy. War leaves a mark. She knew it would but she never thought that something as simple as pleasuring herself would become so difficult.

Her lips begin to tingle, and her head becomes light, a mixture of the lack of oxygen and the heat from the shower. She lets go of her throat before she passes out. Her climax is just beyond reach but no matter how fast or hard she rubs she knows she will never get there.

Cutting off her airway again is too risky; she'd most likely pass out. So, she does the only thing she can think of in the moment: she slaps herself across the face as hard as she can. Almost instantaneous her climax crashes into her. She lets out a small whimper and braces her hand on the shower wall as she rubs herself through her orgasm.

She rips her hand away from her clit with a groan, she once again is completely and utterly unsatisfied. No matter what she does to herself, it's never enough. Nothing she does gives her an ounce of satisfaction, leaving her feeling nothing but rage. She adjusts the temperature to cold and finishes her shower, annoyed that once again she's begun her day in a sour mood.

She supposed she'd found a new way to torture herself, with the memory of him haunting her every thought. The anguish she felt was one of longing and pining, and she found it all so pathetic. Wanting someone she couldn't have, how very typical of her. Hermione Granger, always up for a challenge, knew deep down that he'd never want her beyond that one night they shared.

Hermione makes her way down the stairs to the 8th-year common room. McGonagall had dormitories set up for the 8th-years returning to Hogwarts. Each of them got their own room and a shared common room to encourage house mingling and healing among their peers. Hermione scoffs at the idea. If anything, seeing everyone was a constant reminder of what they all had lost, and with reformed Death Eaters in the mix? Let's just say the first few months of this arrangement were a difficult adjustment, to say the least.