"What?"
Lavender's hand slid lower, fingers brushing the waistband of her pyjamas. "We're in this together, right? That's what the support group is about. Supporting each other."
"Lavender, you don't have to—"
"I know I don't have to. I want to." Her fingers dipped beneath the elastic, and Hermione gasped. "You helped me in the Hospital Wing, remember? When I was panicking? You talked me down. Let me return the favour."
"This isn't—ah—this isn't the same—"
Lavender's hand wrapped around her cock.
Hermione's entire body jerked, a moan escaping her before she could stop it. Lavender's hand was soft, warm, knowing—she'd clearly done this before, probably for Won-Won, and some distant part of Hermione's brain noted that this was deeply surreal.
"Shh," Lavender whispered against her ear. "You have to be quiet. The others are sleeping."
She began to stroke, slow and firm, her thumb brushing over the sensitive head on each upward motion. Hermione bit down hard on her lip, trying to suppress the sounds that wanted to escape.
It was so much better than doing it herself.
The angle was different, the pressure unpredictable in the best way. Lavender's other arm was wrapped around her waist, holding her close, and Hermione could feel the soft press of breasts against her back. The combination of sensations was overwhelming.
"That's it," Lavender murmured. "Just let go. I've got you."
Her hand sped up, and Hermione couldn't hold back a whimper. She pressed her face into the pillow, muffling her sounds as best she could, her hips moving in helpless little thrusts to meet Lavender's strokes.
This is insane, she thought hazily. I'm being jerked off by Lavender Brown. In her bed. While my cock leaks all over her sheets.
But she couldn't bring herself to stop it. The pleasure was building, coiling tight in her belly, and all her shame and confusion were being drowned out by sheer physical sensation.
"You're close," Lavender observed, her hand tightening. "I can feel you twitching. Go on, Hermione. It's okay."
The permission broke something in her.
Hermione came with a strangled cry, her whole body shuddering as release crashed through her. Lavender stroked her through it, murmuring encouragement, until the last spasm faded and Hermione lay limp and trembling in her arms.
Reality returned slowly.
"Oh God," Hermione breathed. "Oh God, we just—I just—"
"Shh." Lavender pressed a kiss to her hair, surprisingly tender. "It's okay. We're okay."
"I can't believe—Lavender, thank you, but—"
"But nothing. You needed help. I helped." She cast a quiet cleaning charm, tidying up the mess. "That's what friends do."
Hermione rolled over to face her, searching Lavender's expression for any sign of disgust or regret. She found only compassion and a hint of shared exhaustion.
"Do you want me to—" Hermione started, not sure how to finish the offer.
Lavender shook her head. "I'm okay tonight. But maybe..." She bit her lip. "Maybe next time."
Next time.
The words hung in the air between them.
"This is so messed up," Hermione whispered.
"Yeah," Lavender agreed. "But so is having a dick. At least we're messed up together."
Despite everything, Hermione felt herself smile.
"Together," she repeated.
She fell asleep in Lavender's bed, her body finally sated, her mind quiet for the first time in days.
The support group met the following evening, same time, same haunted bathroom.
Hermione arrived with Lavender, the two of them exchanging glances that held new meaning. They hadn't talked about what happened—not explicitly—but there was an understanding between them now. A shared secret within the larger shared secret.
Luna was already there, looking even more serene than usual. Which was saying something.
Pansy arrived late, looking harried, her robes dishevelled. "Malfoy wore the sweater again," she announced flatly. "I had to excuse myself from Potions to handle it. Twice."
"Condolences," Lavender offered.
"I don't want condolences. I want a memory charm and a new sexuality."
Professor McGonagall entered last, her expression troubled. "We have a situation," she said without preamble.
Everyone tensed.
"What kind of situation?" Hermione asked.
"Miss Lovegood?" McGonagall turned to Luna. "Would you care to explain?"
Luna smiled dreamily. "Susan Bones found out about Gerald."
Dead silence.
"She... what?" Pansy's voice was faint.
"She confronted me in the Ravenclaw common room. Apparently, she'd noticed some irregularities in my behaviour and did some investigating." Luna tilted her head. "She's very observant, Susan. I've always admired that about her."
"And she found out about..." Lavender gestured vaguely. "...Gerald?"
"Yes. She asked to see him."
More silence.
"She asked to see it?" Hermione repeated, not sure she was hearing correctly.
"She was curious." Luna's smile widened. "So I showed her. And then she asked if she could touch. And then..." She paused thoughtfully. "Well. One thing led to another."
"One thing led to another," Pansy repeated flatly. "What, exactly, does that mean?"
"It means Susan gave Gerald a very thorough oral examination."
The bathroom echoed with stunned silence.
Hermione's brain refused to process the information. Susan Bones—quiet, studious Susan Bones from Hufflepuff—had given Luna a blowjob. Just like that. Because she was curious.
"She what?" Lavender shrieked.
"She was quite skilled, actually. Very attentive to feedback. Gerald was extremely satisfied."
"Miss Lovegood," McGonagall said, her voice strained, "this is precisely the kind of incident we were trying to avoid. If Miss Bones tells anyone—"
"She won't." Luna's dreamy expression didn't waver. "She enjoyed it too much. And she asked if we could do it again sometime. I said I'd have to check Gerald's schedule."
Pansy made a sound like a dying cat.
"So our secret is out," Hermione said slowly, trying to find her footing. "At least to Susan."
"Susan can be trusted," Luna assured them. "She's very discreet. And very enthusiastic."
"I cannot believe this is happening," McGonagall muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I simply cannot."
"Well," Lavender said, her voice thoughtful, "at least Luna found a... coping mechanism?"
"A coping mechanism," Pansy repeated. "She got a blowjob from a Hufflepuff."
"Gerald appreciated the attention."
"STOP CALLING IT GERALD."