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Varying Nature

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Disclaimer: I own nothing.

 

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed. She looked at the bowl filled with soft caramels and other candy then the growing pile of candy wrappers beside it and knew she shouldn’t have another.

Another deep breath echoed in her living room. The house was quiet otherwise. It was a warm April night, and Hermione had vowed to spend some time with herself and her books. The book she was currently reading was a bit dry, but the subject matter was interesting enough to her; Beltane. She’d noticed that the last several pages had fallen into purple prose and she was hoping the author would advance the plot soon or she would have to close the door on this one and pick up another.

It was loosely based on the comings and goings of the Beltane festivals, at least the characters in the book were going and it peaked Hermione’s curiosity. Beltane and Samhain had always been a part of magical rituals. She knew that most pureblood families, to include the Weasley’s, and many half-bloods celebrated during those times. She wanted to read more; perhaps more of a technical description, but she needed to finish this book first. Opening it once more, Hermione read about Beltane and the Irish mythology surrounding it.

Seven Years

It was seven years past the war, the death, the fear. It was six years past when the magical society went bat-shit crazy; or at least to Hermione’s young mind. Hermione had seen true and violent atrocities at the hands of a mad man, as well as the oppression of the Muggle born community, and in other lesser magical beings, but the freedoms that the upper crust magical society felt upon the institution of safety and the liberties that many took in response to just ending a war had people doing things they would never have engaged in otherwise.

She’d broken with Ron that long ago. They were friendly now, acquaintances really. At this point, they had shared a harried past, and he was someone she used to know. She felt no animosity towards him; he was a good sort, just not her sort.

Once outside of the Ron & Hermione- together-forever cocoon is when she started to notice… things. It started with war veterans of differing Houses being seen together; holding hands, laughing – moving in together out of wedlock. It was scandalous. Then there were the rumors, during the rebuilding phases of Hogwarts and Diagon Alley that the younger wizards and witches were establishing vaults of their own and defying the traditions of their ancestors.  Husbands and wives, who had been married for decades split, and bonds were broken. Hermione had seen a niche career open up to her with the onset of divorce in magical society. Where previously it had been almost impossible to break the bonds of matrimony, Hermione, the clever girl, had figured out how to dismantle those bonds without loss of life or limb or magical abilities.

Was it what she thought she would be doing post war and into adulthood? No.

Was it as noble as working to establish laws to protect the vulnerable? No.

Was it her version of continuing to free the oppressed? Yes. Many a witch had been liberated from abuse and dictatorships, and were now self-governing and happy.   Hermione was immensely proud of her work, and she was paid handsomely for it.

Her most interesting to date was the Malfoy Independence.

(Hermione learned early on that Purebloods did not appreciate her direct manner of speaking. She was accused of being crass when calling it a divorce. What Hermione did was conduct an Independence.)

Both Narcissa and Lucius had appeared in her cozy, but elegant office with a request for Independence. Lucius had handed Hermione a Gringott’s cheque and a non-disclosure for her to sign, agreeing that she would not speak of this to anyone.

Smiling, she nodded and scheduled the rather encumbering ritual for the following day.

The day after that found Hermione in her office, skirt hiked around her hips, and legs spread, with the former Narcissa Malfoy and newly returned Black in between them. The elder witch had a most talented tongue.

The two surprisingly compatible witches had a relatively short relationship, but parted on good terms.

Lucius, for all his gag orders and measures to keep quiet, had shagged half of wizarding Britain and was now making his way through France. Too many witches and too many pictures of him cycled through the London post. Hermione thought it nauseating, and turns out, in the end, no one cared who Lucius Malfoy fucked, really.

Hermione’s life consisted of work, her close friends and fully enjoying life as a magical being. Tonight, she had promised Ginny and Luna that she would accompany them to Beltane. Smiling to herself, she took a deep breath. She was both nervous and excited. Ginny and Luna were her closest friends. She loved them dearly, and she hadn’t seen them, in person, in two or three years. Both lived abroad; Luna as the owner of the Quibbler and Ginny as her premier journalist.   Hermione wasn’t even certain when the two had last seen each other.

OoO

The three walked inside the large wooden gates and immediately were handed wreathes of loose flowers. Hermione thought she recognized the marsh marigold and primrose. Her encyclopedic brain processed the meaning of the yellow flowers. She recalled that it had to do with fire.

The wreath was placed gently on her head by a smiling and naked witch, who had painted her body to resemble a nymph. Hermione fought the urge to stare at the witch’s breasts.   She was taken aback when the same painted witch placed a wreath on Luna’s head and Luna thanked her by gently touching her nipple and kissing her on the cheek.

Ginny smiled at the two and then winked at Hermione. Hermione felt her face burn and her stomach flop, and turned to begin the walk to where the bonfire was being staged. The three had missed the farmer’s rituals to protect the boundaries of the farms and encourage fertility. Hermione could just make out the seeds of grain and vervain herbs at the first of four cardinal points.

Not to mention the lingering smell of cows.

The wizards organizing the festival had done a fantastic job at cleaning up after each ritual, but Hermione’s keen nose, and apparently Ginny’s too as she screwed her face momentarily, could still smell the effects. They made eye contact and giggled at the shared mirth.

As they walked and talked, Hermione could feel the energy surrounding her change. It was heady and sensual and heavy. Ginny began talking, and Hermione could hear her clearly even though the young witch was walking behind her. Turning slightly, she could see Ginny’s hands moving, and knew the she was fanning herself.

“Are we supposed to feel…” Hermione asked, turning around and halting when she eyed Luna. The ethereal blonde responded with a small smile, “Hot?”

Hermione and Ginny nodded silently and looked at their friend as she disrobed. Her torso was bare and her fingers were trailing her pink nipples.

Ginny swallowed with some difficulty and Hermione had to resist the urge to touch those lovely breasts bared to the world.   Ginny looked away first and said, “The bonfire is lit. Let’s go find a place, before the music starts.” Grabbing Hermione’s hand and looking back at Luna, the girls walked slowly to the fire.

It was dusk now, the food and drink was out and the holy well was thick with wizards and witches leaving offerings, and praying for health. The organizers would draw the first water from the well at midnight.

Luna had told them that she wanted to stay until dawn to obtain ‘the dew’ from around the well. It was thought to increase sexual attractiveness, and help with skin ailments. Luna knew didn’t need anything along those lines, but she also knew that Beltane dew was seen as a sort of fountain of youth for magical beings. Witches would pay top dollar for a tenth of an ounce.

Hermione didn’t know if she would stay all night, but the thought was intriguing.

As the night wore on, and as the girls danced in the moonlight, they were blessed with the ash of the fire covering their bodies, making them appear like shadowy beings, with only the bright of their eyes and smiles shining through. The magic rolled around them like tidal waves in an ocean, allowing their auras to glow bright and strong. Hermione watched with fascination as Ginny laughed, now naked and sweaty, as her aura glimmered Indigo. Hermione thought it and her, beautiful. The color fit the youthful and gorgeous witch. An Indigo aura was one that spoke of intuition, vision and clear-mindedness of its host. It was fitting for Ginny.

Hermione was compelled to her friend’s side. The red head stopped momentarily and gave her long-time ally a soft smile. Her aura radiated brighter and Hermione thought she could feel the heat from it. A feeling deep in Hermione’s soul broke through the haze and pragmatism of her mind. Hermione adored this witch, and Luna too, but Ginny was, here and now, the most beautiful witch.

Both witches were locked, stuck in each other’s presence. Cinnamon eyes captured ocean blue. Hermione felt her arm move; felt her body lean; felt her breath leave; felt her nose inhale the earthy scent of sweat and the sweet smell of Ginny...

Swallowing, Hermione knelt in front of Ginny; both witches oblivious to the going’s on around them, and leaned forward. Slowly, ever so, never breaking eye contact, she buried her nose in the soft tuft of hair at the base of Ginny’s mons and breathed in. Her tongue flicked briefly to taste the salt and sweetness of her pale skin.

Ginny sighed and her head dropped back.

Hermione wanted more and gently nudged Ginny’s legs open.

Luna came upon them at that time. Smiling when she witnessed the scene. She laid her hand atop Hermione’s head and captured Ginny’s nipple. With a squeeze, Luna Apperated them to a secluded area.

It was the gasp from Ginny that brought them out of the swirl of side-along.

Ginny was upright, against a large wooden X. Her hands and feet spread wide, in the picture of the Vitruvian Man, tied loosely with golden flower-wreathes, similar to the ones in their hair. No longer ashy, her blue eyes found those of Hermione, then to the leaf green of Luna’s. Ginny’s expression begged for Hermione to taste her nectar. Luna eased Hermione forward and watched with pleasure as Hermione opened Ginny; Hermione’s small, thin fingers pulled apart Ginny’s nether lips, so she could see the pink of her pussy.

It was that moment when Luna was whispering in Hermione’s ear. “Her clit is swollen. It needs you, Hermione. Let me watch. Let me feast with you.” The words said with Luna’s light confident cadence, with a lilt of persuasive seduction.

Hermione cut her eyes to Luna; the blonde’s face so close that she could smell her breath. A rush of blood traveled south and Hermione felt the heat of arousal between her legs.

Ginny’s breathing was labored and her body was tense. “Yes,” Ginny whispered.

Hermione leaned forward, her fingers grasping the toned thighs of her friend. She could feel the tickle of Luna’s long hair against her forehead and smiled. She loved Luna’s hair and it mixed so nicely with Ginny’s red.

Hermione paused for a moment in thought, staring at the pale skin of Ginny’s hips. A grunt above her drew her curiosity. It was Luna, sucking and nibbling on Ginny’s nipple. At that moment, she caught the azure stare of the bound witch and captured the swollen clit between her teeth. Ginny hissed with satisfaction.

Flicking her clit back and forth, she could feel the young witch tense and relax, tense and relax, back and forth.

Luna was twisting her other nipple in her fingers and splitting her time between nursing off of Ginny’s breast and whispering to her about Hermione’s tongue; insatiable in its quest.

Finally, a bump of Ginny’s head against the back board and the tension of her body indicated that she had succumbed to their ministrations. They all fell; happy and sated, lying there near the fire, hearing the song and cheer and sounds of other’s love making. Luna trailed her fingertips from where she lay, across Hermione’s stomach and down, running her finger lightly over the outer labia and up again. Hermione spread her legs a little more to give Luna better access. Hermione for her part was massaging Ginny’s breast and tickling the sensitive skin of the dusky nipple. It made her turn on her stomach so that she could lick and suck the pert breast and hardened peak.

It wasn’t long before Hermione found herself on her hands and knees, with Luna on her back and between Hermione’s legs, urging Hermione to come lower so that she may taste.

Hermione had eagerly accepted the position and was enjoying Luna’s small nips of pain mixed with the languid feeling of pleasure, when Hermione shrieked in surprise. Ginny had conjured a dildo, and was slowly, gently pushing it into Hermione’s exposed bum. Hermione nearly jumped up, and was about to wiggle her way out of the position, but Ginny’s soft hands were kneading and spreading her bum cheeks, soothing Hermione with a soft voice, all the while pushing the dildo in and in and in until it was fully seated and Hermione was panting.

Luna took the opportunity to take hold of Hermione’s legs and pull her back down onto her mouth. Sliding her tongue up and down, flicking and nipping her clit; knowing that their redheaded friend was fingering the small, feisty witch, and gently moving the dildo to give her a most intense pleasure, caused Luna herself to cum with minimal prompting.

She continued to feast upon Hermione Granger’s quim and watch Ginny move the dildo; they wanted Hermione to scream their names.

She did. It didn’t take long.

The three lay in a triangle, sated; exhausted, eyes heavy.

OoO

Hermione awoke suddenly and looked around. In her home, with a book in her lap. She frowned. It had been so real, she thought. The pounding on her door jerked her still sated body. “Coming,” she called.

It was Ginny, and she looked both wanting and satisfied. They stared at each other with a burning knowledge of what was to come. Ginny recovered quickly, and walked inside shedding her outer robes. “Is Luna here yet?” she asked with a sexy smile.

Hermione popped a caramel in her mouth and chewed, giving her lover a smile that spoke volumes. “Not yet.”