Latest sex stories about Cedric Diggory teases Hermione Granger to the edge added for who looking to read new experience of teenager narrative Cedric Diggory teases Hermione Granger to the edge story.
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#Teen
By HPenjoyer
This is a short story about Hermione (3rd year) and Cedric (5th year), let me know if you enjoy it!
The warmth of early autumn sunlight spilled through the high arched windows of the Hogwarts library, catching in the strands of Hermione Granger’s frizzy hair as she bent over a particularly ancient tome. It was her third year, and with classes growing harder and her time-turner demanding precision, she found solace in the quiet hum of the library. She didn’t notice Cedric Diggory approach at first, his Quidditch robes slung casually over one arm, his golden-brown hair tousled from practice. He hesitated, scanning the shelves as though he had wandered there by accident, but his eyes kept drifting back to the girl engrossed in her studies. With a polite cough, he broke the silence, and Hermione looked up, startled to meet the kind, curious gaze of the handsome Hufflepuff seeker. “Do you mind if I join you?” Cedric asked, his voice gentle yet confident. It was a simple question, but for Hermione, it marked the beginning of something unexpected.
Hermione blinked, momentarily at a loss for words. Cedric Diggory wasn’t the type of person she expected to strike up a conversation with her in the library—he always seemed to belong to a world far removed from her own. The world of Quidditch matches and effortless charm. She quickly regained her composure, brushing a stray curl from her face.
“Of course,” she said, motioning to the seat across from her. “But it’s mostly study materials here. I’m not sure it’ll be very interesting for someone like you.” The words came out sharper than she intended, and she winced internally. Why was she already assuming he had no interest in academics?
Cedric smiled, unbothered. “Actually, I was hoping you could help me. I’ve been struggling with some Transfiguration concepts, and Professor McGonagall suggested I find a study partner.” He paused, his expression softening. “And, well, everyone knows you’re the best.”
The compliment caught Hermione off guard. Her cheeks flushed, but she tried to sound unaffected. “Well… I suppose I could make time,” she said, closing the book in front of her. “What exactly are you struggling with?”
Cedric leaned forward, his tone serious. “Vanishing Spells. I can’t seem to get the objects to disappear completely. Professor McGonagall said my wand work is fine, but there’s something about the concentration…” He trailed off, his brows knitting together in frustration.
Hermione nodded, already formulating a plan. “It’s not just concentration; it’s also visualization. You have to focus on what the absence of the object feels like, not just what it looks like.” She slid her notes across the table toward him. “Here, these might help.”
As Cedric scanned her neatly written parchment, his smile returned. “This is incredible,” he said, glancing up at her. “How do you think of everything?”
Hermione shrugged, trying to suppress a grin. “It’s just practice. Anyone can do it if they put in the effort.”
“I’m not sure about that,” Cedric replied, his tone warm and genuine. “But I’d like to try—with your help, of course.”
And so, what started as a shared study session became something more. Cedric’s easy confidence paired with Hermione’s sharp intellect created a dynamic neither of them could have anticipated. For the first time, Hermione found herself distracted from her carefully planned routines, drawn into moments of laughter and quiet connection with someone who seemed to truly see her.
The study sessions became a regular occurrence. At first, they were strictly academic—Hermione explaining spells and concepts while Cedric diligently took notes. But as the weeks went on, their conversations began to wander. Cedric would ask Hermione about her favorite books, and she would return the favor by asking about his Quidditch matches. They discovered a shared love for magical history, though Cedric admitted he had never quite appreciated it until Hermione’s enthusiasm brought it to life.
One evening, as the first snowflakes of winter began to drift down outside the library’s frosted windows, their study session ran later than usual. Cedric was practicing his wand movements while Hermione corrected his posture, her hand brushing against his wrist as she adjusted his grip.
“There,” she said, her voice soft, almost a whisper. “Try it now.”
Cedric cast the spell, and for the first time, the small quill in front of him vanished completely. His face lit up with a triumphant smile, and he turned to Hermione, his eyes sparkling. “I did it! Finally!”
Hermione beamed back at him. “I knew you could.”
For a moment, they stayed like that, the excitement between them giving way to a charged silence. Cedric’s smile softened as his gaze lingered on Hermione’s face. “You know,” he began, his voice quieter now, “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”
Hermione shook her head, brushing off the compliment. “That’s not true. You’re talented, Cedric. You just needed a little guidance.”
“No,” he said, stepping closer. “It’s more than that. You’re… incredible, Hermione. The way you think, the way you care—it’s different from anyone else I’ve ever met.”
Hermione’s breath caught in her throat. She wasn’t used to being seen this way—noticed for something beyond her intelligence or her dedication to her studies. “Cedric, I—” she started, but before she could finish, he reached out, gently tucking a stray curl behind her ear.
“I mean it,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re amazing.”
The library felt impossibly quiet, the world outside fading as Cedric’s words hung in the air. Hermione’s heart raced, and for once, she didn’t try to analyze or explain what was happening. She simply let herself feel it—the warmth of his presence, the sincerity in his eyes.
As Cedric leaned in, Hermione’s world seemed to slow, her senses sharpening with an intensity she’d never experienced before. She noticed everything—the way his warm breath mingled with hers, the faint scent of pine and parchment clinging to him, the way his fingers hovered hesitantly near her cheek as though seeking permission. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat a thunderous reminder of the closeness between them.
When their lips met, it was soft at first, a gentle press that sent a shiver cascading down her spine. His lips were warm and firm, moving with an unspoken tenderness that made her pulse quicken. Time seemed to blur as the kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, as though they had all the time in the world to explore the quiet electricity sparking between them. Cedric’s hand found its way to her jaw, his thumb brushing delicately along her cheekbone, grounding her in the moment.
Hermione’s fingers curled instinctively into the fabric of his robes, anchoring herself as a warmth spread through her chest, melting away every doubt or hesitation. The kiss was both sweet and charged, like the first drop of rain after a long drought—unexpected, but exactly what she hadn’t realized she’d been craving.
When they finally parted, Cedric’s forehead rested lightly against hers, their breaths mingling in the charged silence that followed. His thumb lingered against her cheek, his eyes searching hers, his expression a mix of awe and quiet vulnerability. Hermione’s lips tingled, the memory of the kiss imprinted there like a secret she would carry forever.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks,” he admitted, his voice tinged with a boyish charm that made Hermione’s heart flutter.
Hermione laughed softly, the sound light and full of wonder. “And here I thought you were just interested in Transfiguration.”
“I guess I’ve always been good at keeping secrets,” Cedric said with a grin, and as Hermione looked into his eyes, she couldn’t help but feel that this was the start of something truly special.
As they stepped through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room, the fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting warm, flickering shadows across the room. The usual bustle of the space was absent, and the quiet felt intimate, wrapping around them like a blanket. Hermione hesitated near the center of the room, turning back to face Cedric, who had followed her in with the same easy confidence that somehow still made her heart flutter.
“You didn’t have to walk me back,” she said softly, though there was no mistaking the warmth in her voice.
Cedric gave her a small smile, stepping closer. “I wanted to. It’s late, and… well, I suppose I just wasn’t ready to say goodnight yet.”
Hermione’s gaze dropped to the floor for a moment, her cheeks coloring faintly, but when she looked back up, the honesty in his expression disarmed her completely. She gestured toward the couch near the fire. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to stay a little longer. The fire’s still warm.”
Cedric’s smile widened, and he followed her to the couch, sitting beside her, though not too close. The silence between them was comfortable at first, filled only by the gentle pop of the firewood. But the charged energy from their kiss lingered, unspoken but undeniable, sparking between their stolen glances.
“I still can’t believe how quiet it is in here,” Cedric said, his voice low, as though he didn’t want to disturb the stillness. “It’s always so loud in the Hufflepuff common room. This feels… peaceful.”
“It’s not always like this,” Hermione replied with a small smile, tucking her legs beneath her on the couch. “But tonight, I guess we’re lucky.”
Cedric nodded, his eyes not on the fire but on her, the golden light casting soft highlights in her curls and making her skin glow. “Hermione,” he said after a pause, his voice more serious now, “about earlier… I—”
“You don’t have to explain,” Hermione interrupted gently, turning to face him fully. “I—well, I wasn’t expecting it, but…” Her words faltered, and she let out a soft laugh, brushing a hand nervously through her hair. “I’m glad it happened.”
Her honesty seemed to embolden him. Cedric shifted closer, his knee brushing hers, and this time, he reached out to take her hand, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles over her knuckles. “I meant it,” he murmured. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met. I didn’t think I’d feel this way about someone so… extraordinary.”
Hermione felt her breath hitch, the intensity in his gaze making her feel both vulnerable and cherished all at once. “I’m not—” she started, but Cedric cut her off with a quiet shake of his head.
“You are,” he insisted, his voice firm but tender. “You just don’t see it yet.”
The firelight danced in his eyes, and before she could respond, Cedric leaned in again, slower this time, giving her every chance to pull away. But she didn’t. Instead, she met him halfway, her hands coming to rest lightly on his chest as their lips found each other once more. This kiss was different from the first—deeper, unhurried, and filled with a growing confidence. Cedric’s hands slid to her waist, steady and reassuring, as though anchoring her in the moment.
As they broke apart, her forehead resting lightly against his, the room seemed to exhale with them. “You should probably go,” Hermione whispered, though her voice lacked conviction.
“I probably should,” Cedric murmured back, his thumb brushing idly against her hip. But neither of them moved, the pull between them too strong to sever just yet. The fire crackled again, and they both smiled, caught in the warmth of a moment that felt like it belonged to no one else in the world but them.
The fire’s gentle warmth cast flickering light across the empty Gryffindor common room, but the air between Hermione and Cedric burned with a far more palpable heat. They remained close, their breathing synchronized, the silence heavy with unspoken words and unrestrained tension. Cedric’s hand lingered at her waist, his fingers tracing slow, feather-light circles that made Hermione’s breath hitch.
“You should go,” Hermione repeated, her voice softer this time, trembling slightly. But her hands betrayed her, still resting against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips. She didn’t want him to leave—not now, not when they were suspended in this fragile, perfect moment.
Cedric’s lips quirked into a small, knowing smile. “If you really wanted me to, you wouldn’t keep saying it like that,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate. His words sent a shiver through her, and she couldn’t stop the faint blush that crept up her neck.
“You’re impossible,” Hermione whispered, though the hint of a smile betrayed her. Cedric chuckled softly, leaning in again, his nose brushing against hers in a gesture so gentle it made her chest tighten.
“Only for you,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, and then his lips were on hers again.
This time, there was no hesitation. The kiss deepened quickly, fueled by the magnetic pull they’d been resisting for too long. Cedric’s hands slid from her waist to the small of her back, pulling her closer, while Hermione’s fingers tangled in his hair, anchoring herself in the dizzying intensity of the moment. The world outside the common room ceased to exist; there was only the firelight, the warmth of their bodies, and the unrelenting need that had been simmering beneath the surface.
Cedric guided her gently, shifting so she was lying back against the cushions of the couch, his weight pressing down on her just enough to make her heart race. He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers as he caught his breath, his thumb brushing over her flushed cheek. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice thick with both desire and restraint. “We can stop—”
Hermione’s response was immediate, her fingers tightening in his hair as she brought his lips back to hers. “Don’t stop,” she murmured, her voice trembling but resolute. “I want this. I want you.”
Her words seemed to break whatever self-control Cedric had left. He kissed her again, deeper this time, his hands exploring her curves with a reverence that made her feel beautiful in a way she’d never experienced before. Their breaths mingled, their movements slow but growing in intensity, as the fire crackled and danced beside them, the only witness to their shared vulnerability and longing.
Time seemed to lose meaning as they gave in to the inevitable, the connection between them intensifying with every touch, every kiss. Hermione’s mind was usually a whirl of thoughts, always planning, always calculating—but with Cedric, everything fell silent. All that mattered was him, the way he made her feel alive and cherished, as though she was the only thing that existed in his world.
And for that night, under the watchful glow of the Gryffindor fireplace, she was.
The room seemed to shrink around them, the glow of the fire and the soft warmth of the couch creating a cocoon where time stood still. Cedric’s hand, warm and steady, lingered at her waist, his thumb brushing against the fabric of her sweater in a slow, deliberate motion. Hermione shivered, her pulse quickening with the subtle, electrifying touches that felt both new and natural.
He kissed her again, this time slower, as though savoring every second, and Hermione responded in kind, her hands sliding up to cup his face. There was a tenderness to the way he kissed her, as though he wanted her to know how much this meant, how much she meant. When his lips left hers, they traveled down, brushing against her jawline, then the sensitive skin just beneath her ear, sending a rush of warmth down her spine.
“Cedric…” she breathed, her voice barely audible. His name on her lips seemed to spur him on, his hands gently but firmly exploring the curve of her back as he buried his face in her hair, breathing her in like she was the very air he needed.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured against her skin, his voice husky but filled with care.
Hermione shook her head, tilting her face to meet his eyes. “It’s not,” she whispered, her cheeks flushed, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it. “I trust you.”
Her words seemed to shift something between them. Cedric’s touch grew more confident but never rushed, his hands tracing her sides in a way that left her breathless. Hermione’s fingers found their way beneath his robes, her hands pressing against the toned muscle of his shoulders, marveling at the strength she felt there. Every touch, every kiss, was deliberate, each of them exploring the growing intimacy with a mix of curiosity and restraint.
Cedric’s hands moved to the hem of her sweater, pausing for a moment as his gaze met hers, silently asking for permission. Hermione nodded, her heart racing as he slowly lifted the fabric, his fingertips brushing against her skin. The sensation sent a thrill through her, and she leaned into him, their movements becoming more fluid, more attuned.
They weren’t just exploring each other physically; they were learning, understanding, and connecting in a way that felt deeper than either of them had anticipated. Cedric’s lips found hers again, the kiss filled with a newfound intensity, and Hermione felt herself letting go of every barrier she had carefully constructed over the years. With Cedric, it felt safe to be vulnerable, to let herself be seen and cherished for everything she was.
“You’re sure?” he asked softly, his voice deep and laced with both desire and care. His eyes searched hers, and in the firelight, she could see the sincerity there—the quiet promise that he wouldn’t move a step further unless she wanted him to.
Hermione nodded, her lips curving into a soft, reassuring smile. “I’ve never been more sure,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the fluttering in her chest.
Cedric leaned in, kissing her deeply, his hands sliding under the hem of her sweater, his touch warm and possessive as his fingers explored the soft skin of her back. Hermione gasped against his lips as his hands moved higher, tugging the fabric up and over her head.
The cool air kissed her skin, but it was quickly replaced by Cedric’s warmth as he pressed closer, his lips trailing from her jaw down the curve of her neck. Each kiss felt like a spark, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Hermione’s fingers threaded into his hair, pulling him closer, her own kisses growing more fervent as she explored the sharp line of his jaw and the column of his throat.
Cedric’s shirt joined her sweater on the floor, and Hermione couldn’t help but pause, her eyes tracing over him in the firelight. His chest rose and fell with each uneven breath, his body both strong and graceful, and she marveled at the way he looked at her—like she was the only person in the world.
“You’re beautiful,” Cedric murmured, his voice reverent as his hands settled on her hips, pulling her closer until there was barely any space left between them. Hermione’s heart raced, and she reached up to cup his face, bringing his lips back to hers in a kiss that felt like both a promise and a surrender.
Their movements grew more urgent, their touches bolder but still laced with an undeniable tenderness. Cedric’s hands roamed her body with a careful reverence, and Hermione felt herself letting go of every inhibition, giving herself over to the moment completely. Her own hands explored the planes of his body, tracing every line and curve, feeling the strength beneath his skin and the way he seemed to tremble under her touch.
The fire crackled softly beside them, the warmth of the room mirrored in the heat between them. Every kiss, every caress felt like a declaration, a confirmation of something unspoken but deeply understood. And as they continued to explore each other, their connection deepening with every passing moment, the night stretched on, leaving them wrapped in each other’s warmth, the world beyond the common room forgotten.
The heat between them was no longer just from the fire; it radiated from every touch, every kiss, every unspoken word. Cedric’s hands were bolder now, tracing the curve of Hermione’s waist, his fingers slipping under the edge of her waistband as if testing the boundaries of her comfort. When she didn’t pull away—when she instead arched slightly toward him, her breath catching—he let his touch wander lower, the heat of his palm igniting sparks along her skin.
Hermione’s own hesitation had dissolved, replaced by a growing confidence as her hands explored him, sliding over his chest, her nails grazing lightly along the taut lines of his stomach. The sharp intake of breath that escaped Cedric’s lips sent a thrill through her, and she smiled against his mouth, emboldened by the effect she had on him.
“You’re driving me mad,” Cedric murmured against her lips, his voice rough with desire. His hands slid down to her thighs, his thumbs brushing slow circles just beneath the fabric of her skirt, each movement deliberate, teasing, and electrifying.
“You’re one to talk,” Hermione managed to reply, her voice breathless as her fingers found their way to the buckle of his belt. The boldness of the act surprised her, but Cedric’s low groan of approval spurred her on, her movements more assured as she unfastened it and let it fall loose.
Cedric kissed her again, harder this time, his hands gripping her hips as he pulled her firmly against him. Hermione gasped at the sensation, her body pressing instinctively closer, her fingers tangling in his hair as she kissed him back with equal fervor. The tension between them was palpable now, the space between tenderness and hunger narrowing with every passing second.
Cedric shifted, guiding Hermione back onto the couch, his body half-covering hers as his lips left a trail of heated kisses along her neck, her collarbone and the tops of her shoulders. Hermione’s head tilted back, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps as his hands roamed her body, learning her curves with a mix of reverence and intent.
Her own hands weren’t idle. They slid beneath the waistband of his trousers, her touch hesitant at first but quickly growing bolder as she felt the way his body responded to her. Cedric let out a sharp exhale, his lips pausing against her skin as he whispered her name, the sound of it sending a shiver through her that left her dizzy.
“You’re incredible,” he said softly, his voice full of raw emotion even as his hands slipped beneath the hem of her skirt, exploring the sensitive skin of her thighs with slow, deliberate movements.
“So are you,” Hermione replied, her voice trembling slightly, but her hands still confident as they explored him in turn. Their bodies moved together in a rhythm that felt instinctual, natural, as though they had always been meant to fit this way.
The firelight flickered over them, its glow casting golden highlights on their entwined forms as they gave in to the escalating intensity between them. Their touches grew more intimate, their breaths mingling, and the line between restraint and abandon blurred further, leaving them lost in each other, the outside world a distant memory.
Cedric’s breath hitched as Hermione’s hand ventured lower, her touch hesitant but curious. Her fingers brushed over him, tracing the outline of his growing arousal, and his reaction was immediate—a low, guttural sound that came from deep within his chest. Emboldened by the way his body responded, she wrapped her fingers around his full length, feeling the heat of him even through the fabric.
“Hermione,” Cedric breathed her name, his voice raw and trembling, like it was the only word he could manage to say. His head dipped lower, his lips finding the sensitive curve of her neck, where he began to trail kisses, slow and deliberate, as if savoring every inch of her. His tongue flicked against her skin, tasting her, the faint saltiness mixing with the sweetness of her natural scent.
Her body reacted to every kiss, every touch of his lips, arching closer to him as his hands roamed her thighs, sliding into her panties, inches away from her dripping heat. The way his fingers brushed against her skin—gentle but purposeful—sent waves of heat pooling low in her abdomen, her breath catching as she felt herself losing control under his attentions.
Meanwhile, her hand tightened around him, the thin barrier of fabric between them only heightening the anticipation. Cedric’s hips shifted slightly under her touch, his reaction a wordless plea for more. Hermione felt her confidence grow as she adjusted her movements, slow but intentional, and the sound of his sharp intake of breath was all the encouragement she needed.
“You feel incredible,” Cedric murmured against her skin, his voice heavy with both restraint and longing. His lips found their way to the swell of her chest, brushing against the edge of her neckline as his hands moved higher, pushing her shirt further up to expose more of her to his touch.
Their breaths mingled, shallow and uneven, as the tension between them built, their bodies responding instinctively to the unspoken rhythm of their desires. Cedric’s kisses became slower, deeper, as though he were trying to memorize the taste of her skin, while Hermione’s touch grew bolder, her fingers exploring him with growing confidence.
The firelight danced over their bare skin, the final barriers of clothing now discarded and forgotten, leaving them vulnerable yet wholly connected in their shared intimacy. Cedric hovered over Hermione, his gaze tracing the lines of her body with awe, as though she were a masterpiece revealed to him for the first time. His fingers gently brushed along her side, over her ribs, tracing the curve of her waist and hip with reverence, his touch igniting her skin in a way that made her shiver.
“You’re perfect,” Cedric murmured, his voice soft and unsteady, as though the weight of his feelings had stolen his composure. His lips followed the path of his hands, planting slow, tender kisses along her shoulder, her collarbone, and down to the swell of her chest. Each touch felt deliberate, like he wanted to memorize every inch of her, to let her know how much she meant to him.
Hermione’s breath came in shallow gasps, her body reacting to every touch, every kiss. Her hands roamed his back, her nails grazing lightly against his skin, feeling the strength beneath her fingers. Cedric’s closeness was intoxicating, his warmth enveloping her completely, and the way he looked at her—like she was the only thing that mattered—made her heart ache in the best possible way.
“Cedric,” she whispered, her voice trembling but filled with certainty. She tilted her head back, her hands sliding down to grip his hips, pulling him closer, needing him closer. “I want this. I want you.”
Her words ignited something in him. Cedric kissed her again, deeper this time, his hands cupping her face as though she were something precious. His body shifted against hers, his weight pressing her gently into the cushions as his lips moved against hers with a newfound urgency. Hermione’s legs wrapped around him instinctively, drawing him closer still, their bodies fitting together as if they’d been made for each other.
“Are you sure?” Cedric asked, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze, his forehead resting against hers. His voice was thick with desire, but beneath it was an unmistakable tenderness—a need to know that she wanted this as much as he did.
Hermione’s eyes locked with his, her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen from his kisses. She reached up to stroke his face, her thumb brushing over his jawline as she nodded. “I’ve never been more sure,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the rapid thrum of her heart. “I’m ready.”
Cedric’s expression softened, a mix of relief and devotion crossing his features. He kissed her again, his lips lingering on hers as his hands slid down to her hips, guiding her gently. The intimacy between them deepened, their movements slow and deliberate, each touch and caress an unspoken promise. Hermione felt a warmth blooming within her, a connection so profound that it seemed to transcend the physical, leaving her breathless and utterly consumed by him.
Hermione’s body was ready, so ready. She had always harboured these thoughts, ever since her first year, but she was yet to explore them. After almost 3 years at Hogwarts, her body had grown into the object of desire so many boys craved, but she would only give herself to him, for now that is. Cedric made her feel special, worshiped in a way that no 13 other year old girl at Hogwarts had experienced.
A pleasent heat grew between her perfect legs, her core tightening as Cedric’s hard tip pushed against her entrance. Hermione had wrapped her legs around his waist and her soft expression gave way to a needy gaze as she whimpered like a puppy. She didn’t like to be teased like this, and the more Cedric played with her patience, the more her thighs were soaked in her wetness. Hermione whined in a grumpy, childish tone, pouting her precious lips as Cedric teased her. The young Hufflepuff knew what he was doing, pulling away to savour the torture he was inflicting upon her. Hermione could take no more, she latched on to Cedric’s muscular body, her breathing heavy and her body trembling with impatience.
Finally, at long last, Cedric pushed into her. Hermione’s eyes rolled back as she felt the entire length of his cock stretch her walls. They both let out a groan of pleasure and Hermione’s beautiful body began to tense up as the entire 9 inches of Cedric’s veiny hardness burried itself deep inside Hermione.
Cedric moves slowly at first, savoring the sensation as he withdraws his entire length from her pussy before pushing back in with deliberate care. As much as Hermione craves a hard, relentless pounding, Cedric takes his time, enjoying the sight of his little toy losing her patience. Occasionally, he pauses his movements entirely, letting his throbbing tip rest teasingly against her soaked lips.
The torment drives Hermione to whimper in frustration, her fingers digging into his back as she pulls him closer, trying to force him deeper. She grinds her hips against him, her soft whines shifting into impatient groans, each sound fueling his playful control over her unraveling composure.
Cedric smirked, his pace agonizingly slow as he watched Hermione’s composure crumble. Her nails raked down his back, leaving faint marks on his skin, a clear sign of her frustration. She was no longer the methodical, calculated witch who always had a plan—she was something primal now, her body moving with desperate determination to close the gap he kept teasingly open.
“Cedric,” she growled, her voice a mix of command and plea, her breath ragged. “Stop playing with me.”
But he only chuckled softly, dipping his head to brush his lips against her ear. “Patience, Hermione,” he murmured, his voice deep and steady, the contrast to her chaotic need making her shudder. “I want to see you lose control.”
Her response was immediate and feral. With a sudden burst of energy, she flipped them, her legs straddling his hips as she pinned him beneath her. Her hair was wild, her eyes blazing with frustration and desire. “Fine,” she hissed, her tone almost a challenge. “If you won’t give me what I want, I’ll take it myself.”
Cedric’s breath caught, his playful smirk replaced with awe as Hermione set the pace, her hips rolling against his with a force and rhythm that left him groaning. She wasn’t holding back anymore, her movements raw and unapologetic, her nails digging into his chest as she leaned forward, claiming his lips in a bruising kiss.
The control was hers now, her impatience driving her into a frenzy that even Cedric’s steady resolve couldn’t resist. But beneath her dominance, there was a vulnerability—a need to break free from the restraint and precision that ruled her life. And Cedric, ever observant, let her take him to the edge, savoring the untamed fire she unleashed.
Hermione’s wild energy threatened to overwhelm him, her movements desperate and demanding as she sought to satisfy the ache he’d stoked so relentlessly. But just as she thought she’d gained control, Cedric’s hands gripped her hips firmly, stilling her entirely. The sudden halt sent a jolt through her, her frustration bubbling over.
“Cedric—” she began, but the words died in her throat as his darkened gaze locked onto hers.
“I let you play,” he said, his voice low and commanding, a stark contrast to his earlier teasing tone. “Now it’s my turn.”
In one swift motion, Cedric flipped them again, pressing her back against the couch. His body loomed over hers, every movement deliberate, exuding strength and control. Before she could protest, his lips claimed hers in a searing kiss, stealing her breath and silencing any complaints.
Without breaking the kiss, Cedric thrust into her with a force that made her gasp, her nails clawing at his shoulders as pleasure overwhelmed her. There was no hesitation now, no teasing—just raw, unrelenting power. Each movement was precise yet rough, driving her closer to the edge with every stroke.
“Is this what you needed?” he growled against her lips, his voice rough with desire. “You wanted it hard, Hermione? Say it.”
Her voice came out as a broken whimper, her usual eloquence lost entirely. “Yes—yes, Cedric. Don’t stop.”
His smirk returned, but it wasn’t playful this time—it was predatory. He adjusted his angle, hitting the spot that made her cry out, her body arching into him as he quickened his pace. The sounds she made—uninhibited, animalistic—only spurred him on, his name tumbling from her lips like a mantra.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, his voice strained yet tender. “Completely mine.”
Hermione could only hold on, her mind blank, her body consumed by the pleasure Cedric was giving her. Every thrust, every kiss, every growled word was calculated to unravel her, and by the time she shattered in his arms, she had nothing left to hold back.
As she lay trembling beneath him, Cedric leaned down, brushing his lips softly against her temple. “Better?” he teased, his voice laced with affection.
Hermione let out a breathless laugh, her fingers weakly tracing the lines of his jaw. “Much.”
Cedric could feel her body trembling beneath him, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist as if to anchor herself against the storm of sensation he was unleashing. Her head tipped back, exposing the delicate curve of her neck, and the desperate sounds spilling from her lips only drove him harder, faster.
“You can take it,” he growled, his voice rough but steady as he thrust into her with unrelenting force, his hands gripping her hips to hold her steady. “I know you can, Hermione.”
Her nails dug into his back, her cries echoing around them, completely unrestrained now. She was no longer trying to hide, no longer trying to think—her body had taken over, and she was at the mercy of the pleasure that was consuming her.
“Cedric—” she gasped, her voice breaking. “I— I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” he interrupted, his tone both commanding and reassuring. He adjusted his angle slightly, hitting that spot inside her again and again, each thrust more precise than the last. Her body jolted in response, her back arching off the couch as she clung to him, her breath coming in ragged, uneven bursts.
The tension in her body coiled tighter and tighter, and Cedric could feel it—the way she shook, the way her walls clenched around him as if pulling him even deeper. “Let go,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear, his voice dark and soothing. “I’ve got you, Hermione. Just let go.”
Her release hit her like a tidal wave, her entire body shaking uncontrollably as she cried out his name, her nails leaving marks down his back. She clung to him as though he were the only thing keeping her grounded, her mind wiped blank by the overwhelming pleasure crashing through her.
Cedric slowed his movements just enough to ride out her orgasm, his hands steady on her hips, his lips brushing over her temple as he whispered words of praise. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe and warmth. “You’re incredible, Hermione. So beautiful.”
Her body continued to tremble even as the aftershocks subsided, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath. Cedric stayed close, his strong arms wrapping around her, holding her securely as she came back to herself.
When her trembling calmed down and her eyes fluttered open, she looked up at him with a dazed, vulnerable expression. “Cedric…” she whispered, her voice soft but filled with wonder.
He smiled down at her, his thumb brushing gently along her flushed cheek. “You’re amazing,” he said simply, his voice a mixture of pride and affection.
Cedric didn’t give her a moment to recover. As soon as her trembling eased, he gripped her thighs firmly, spreading her open wider beneath him. His eyes burned with determination, and his movements resumed, harder and faster than before. The sound of their bodies meeting filled the room, each thrust sending shockwaves through her already overstimulated form.
Hermione’s head fell back against the pillows, her lips parted as broken cries spilled from her. Words failed her entirely; all she could manage were incoherent sounds, each one more desperate than the last. Her flawless feet tensed in overwhelming pleasure, her arches lifting and her toes curling tightly, her body writhing under Cedric’s unrelenting rhythm as if she were trying to escape the overwhelming pleasure—but he wouldn’t let her.
“Stay with me, Hermione,” he growled, his voice thick with desire as he leaned down, his breath hot against her ear. “I’m not done with you yet.”
Her response was a choked whimper, her eyes rolling back as another wave of pleasure tore through her. Her legs trembled violently, her body shaking uncontrollably beneath him as he pushed her further and further beyond anything she’d ever felt.
“Look at you,” Cedric murmured, his tone darkly affectionate as he watched her fall apart. “So perfect… so completely mine.” His words only heightened the sensations coursing through her, dragging her even deeper into the haze of pleasure.
Hermione’s nails clawed at his shoulders, her head tossing from side to side as she lost all sense of control. Her cries grew louder, her voice raw as she reached a breaking point. Her entire body tensed, her back arching sharply as another release crashed over her, more intense than the last.
Cedric didn’t relent, riding out her orgasm with powerful, deliberate thrusts. Her walls clenched around his dick, her body quivering uncontrollably as she called his name, her voice broken and breathless.
Hermione was teetering on the edge, her body a trembling, overstimulated mess beneath Cedric. Her hands clung desperately to his shoulders, her nails raking across his skin as she let out soft, incoherent cries. Every relentless thrust sent sparks of pleasure coursing through her, winding her tighter and tighter until she thought she might break apart.
Cedric’s pace didn’t falter. His focus was entirely on her—on the way her body quivered, the way her breath hitched, the way her head tilted back in surrender. He could feel her nearing that final release, her walls clenching around him as if trying to pull him even deeper.
“You’re so close,” he murmured, his voice rough and low as he leaned down to capture her lips in a searing kiss. “Let go for me, Hermione. I want to feel all of you.”
His words sent her spiraling, but just as she reached the peak, Cedric released with a deep, guttural groan, his warm cum spilling into her. The sensation of him inside her, combined with the overwhelming pleasure he’d built within her, shattered the final thread of her control.
Hermione’s body tensed, her back arching sharply as her release crashed over her. A broken cry tore from her lips as her entire being gave way to the pleasure. Her body quaked violently, and a sudden rush of liquid burst free, soaking them both as she surrendered completely.
Cedric stilled above her, his breath ragged, his strong hands holding her steady as her body writhed beneath him. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe as he watched her fall apart. “You’re incredible.”
Her chest heaved as the aftershocks wracked her, her body still trembling uncontrollably. Cedric stayed close, his hands gliding gently over her sides, grounding her in the intimacy of the moment.
When her breathing finally slowed, Hermione opened her eyes, her gaze hazy but filled with wonder. Cedric smiled softly, brushing a damp curl from her forehead as he pressed a tender kiss to her temple.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice steady and reassuring. “Always.”
Hermione lay sprawled beneath Cedric, her body still trembling, her chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath. Her hair was wild, her skin flushed, and her eyes half-lidded in a dazed, feral haze. She felt untamed, primal, as though something deep inside her had been unleashed—something she had never known she was capable of.
Cedric hovered above her, his strong hands resting on either side of her waist, his gaze fixed on her with a mixture of awe and satisfaction. He could still feel the faint aftershocks of her release, her body humming with raw energy even as it began to settle.
“Who would’ve thought,” he murmured, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, “that a girl like you could be so… wild.”
Hermione’s lips parted, but no sharp retort came. Instead, she gave him a breathless laugh, her voice hoarse and uneven. “Not even me,” she admitted, her fingers trailing lazily across his chest. “I didn’t know I could… feel like that.”
Cedric’s smirk softened into a tender smile, and he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. “You were incredible,” he said softly. “Absolutely unstoppable.”
Hermione closed her eyes, her chest rising and falling against his as she let the weight of his words sink in. She felt different—awakened, untethered from the prim, controlled image she had spent so long maintaining. It wasn’t just the way her body had responded but the way her mind had let go, surrendering to the instincts and desires she had always kept so carefully in check.
As they lay there together, their bodies tangled, the air still heavy with the remnants of their passion, Hermione felt a quiet satisfaction settle over her. It wasn’t just about the physical release—though that had left her utterly spent—but about discovering a part of herself she hadn’t known existed.
Cedric shifted beside her, pulling her closer against his chest, his arms wrapping securely around her. “You’re full of surprises, Hermione Granger,” he murmured, his voice a mixture of affection and teasing.
Hermione smirked faintly, her head resting against his shoulder as she felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her cheek. “And you, Cedric Diggory, are an insufferable tease,” she replied, though her words carried no heat.
They fell into a comfortable silence, their breaths evening out as they basked in the aftermath. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of them, their bodies entwined and their souls still humming from the connection they’d shared.
And as Hermione drifted into a blissful haze, she couldn’t help but wonder what else lay dormant within her, waiting for the right moment to be set free.
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