Fic: The Revenge of Dolores Jane Umbridge Against Hermione Jean Granger
My smutswap 2017 fic.
Title: The Revenge of Dolores Jane Umbridge Against Hermione Jean Granger
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Umbridge/Hermione, background Hermione/Ron and Hermione/Viktor Krum
Word Count: 2,280
Summary: Just what the title says. ;)
Warnings: Blackmail, sexual coercion, sadism, humiliation, spanking, fisting, large insertion
Dolores is walking through the hallways of Hogwarts, leading her pet behind her on a leash. Hermione Granger is crawling on her hands and knees. She’s nude, of course, unless you count the fluffy pink tail attached to the plug buried up her ass.
When Dolores has settled herself in the Headmistress’s office for the day, she snaps her fingers and points to her pink patent leather saddle shoes. Hermione lowers her head further down and brushes her hair aside so Dolores can see her face while she licks her shoes clean and shiny.
And when Dolores needs a break from reading teachers’ reports on their students, she raises her robes and spreads her legs, and Hermione licks her cunt. Hermione has been well-schooled in the proper use of her tongue and now knows that it is not for arguing with her superiors.
Dolores rubbed her clit faster and muttered the command to increase the depth of penetration of her charmed dildo. This was her favorite fantasy and she’d masturbated to it too many times. It needed a new element.
Hermione understands her civic responsibilities well. Any trash they encounter littering Hogwarts is picked up by Hermione - with her mouth, of course, she knows better than to use her hands - and carried between her teeth to the nearest garbage bin.
Dolores decides that Hogwarts needs a new garbage unit. Instead of taking Hermione up into her office with her, she leaves her tethered out in the hall, beneath a sign imploring potential litterers to dispose of their garbage in the proper receptacle and reminding them that they have three orifices to choose from.
Hermione’s mouth is the students’ preferred place to dispose of their used chewing gum. They transfer gum they’ve tired of chewing directly from their mouths to hers, giving her well over a dozen such kisses on a good day.
Candy and snack wrappers usually go in her cunt. Sometimes the wrappers still have bits of food in them, and the heat of her cunt melts them to create quite a mess. But Dolores is happy to wash her out with ice-cold water every afternoon.
Her ass doesn’t get much use. Some broken quills, the occasional butterbeer bottle, and once a frustrated student carefully rolled up the parchment containing homework that had been graded F for failure and stuck it up there.
Dolores’s senses exploded in the most intense orgasm she’d had in ages.
She had always been a patient woman and ten years in Azkaban had honed her patience and given her time to plot her revenge. She’d wanted revenge on all of them, Harry Potter, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minerva McGonagall, the whole wretched Weasley family - she’d wanted to see them all dead, preferably after they’d suffered horribly.
But she’d realized who was ultimately to blame for her fall from power and her imprisonment: Hermione Granger. Harry Potter was an imbecile who would have failed and died without the support of Hermione Granger. Hermione was the one truly responsible for muggle-lovers taking control of the Ministry.
Dolores had no friends, that was true. She’d been destitute after her release from Azkaban, reduced to living in her father’s hovel in a muggle village. But Dolores had always been good at politics, and every good politician knew how to garner support and raise funds.
Most of the old powerful and wealthy families had lost many of their members to the war, and to Azkaban, and had their power and wealth greatly reduced. They survived by pretending to support the new regime, but they chafed under it. While they were not ready to go against the regime’s leaders themselves, quite a few respectable witches and wizards contributed to Dolores’s scheme for revenge against Hermione Granger.
Almost two years passed before the time came to take her revenge. Two years of developing contacts, collecting money, employing unsavory characters, and having everything Hermione Granger did and said recorded and reported to her. Two years of paying Hermione’s assistant to provide a sympathetic ear for her marital woes and to encourage her discontentment, for since the spies could find no evidence of professional misconduct and Hermione’s personal faults were lauded as admirable traits in Witch Weekly, Dolores needed to target Hermione’s only vulnerability.
Dolores would never understand why Hermione hadn’t taken Harry Potter for herself. She was pretty enough and talented enough at witchcraft that she could have married Potter if she’d wanted. Instead she’d allowed the Weasley daughter to have him, while she married the least of the Weasley sons. They were one big, happy family, with photos of them all appearing regularly in every newspaper and magazine in the wizarding world.
And now Dolores had photos that would ruin that pretense of a happy family. Hermione’s Weasley husband would certainly not be happy to see what had transpired in his wife’s hotel room when she’d gone to Paris for the pan-European conference on the rights of non-human creatures.
Dolores selected her favorite photograph - one in which Hermione was very enthusiastically bouncing on Viktor Krum’s cock - and wrote an address on the back. She gave it to her rented owl to deliver, and made herself comfortable in the dinghy room of a cheap hotel in the worst part of Muggle London.
There was a small mirror hanging on the wall opposite the bed and Dolores cast an Engorgement Charm until it expanded to cover the whole wall. She took the implements she’d brought to use on Hermione out of her bag and arranged them neatly. The tawse went on one pillow and the dildo went on the other.
Hermione barged into the room with her wand drawn - and the door slammed shut behind her.
The curses she tried to cast were unsuccessful. Dolores had paid a lot of her patrons’ galleons to a powerful and mercenary dark wizard, and the room was warded to prevent the use of magic once the door was closed fully.
“You’re smart,” Dolores told her sweetly. “Do let’s skip the questions and the threats.”
Hermione skipped straight to the negotiation. “I assume you want to return to the Ministry? I certainly will not help you get back into any position of power, but I can arrange to find you a position where you can collect a comfortable salary without being able to wreak harm on anyone.”
“The only position I’m interested in, Ms. Granger, is the one you will get into. I want you on your hands and knees on the bed.”
“You’re joking!” Hermione exclaimed. Then she seemed to notice the implements laid out on the bed, and she shot Dolores a look of pure disbelief.
“I can give you money,” she said. “Take it and go live your life in some other country where no one cares who you are and what you did.”
“I don’t want money. I want you to submit to the punishment you richly deserve.”
“I’m not going to let you beat me and rape me, you sick old cow!”
“Then your husband and his family and your friend Harry Potter will all receive photographs of your extramarital dalliance. I can have them delivered in minutes.”
“It was one time,” Hermione said, pleadingly, signaling that negotiations were over.
Dolores smiled sweetly at her. “Then you won’t mind the Weasley clan seeing how passionately you fucked Krum… almost as if you weren’t getting satisfaction at home…”
Hermione hung her head in surrender.
“Now, I want you entirely naked and on all fours.”
Hermione glared at her, no doubt wishing she could cast the Killing Curse with her eyes. She removed her robes and undergarments, and kicked off her shoes, and climbed onto the bed.
“The other way. Turn around. I want you to watch yourself in the mirror.”
Dolores watched Hermione’s face in the mirror as she picked up the tawse and used it to stroke her ass in a mock-caress. Then she raised it high and brought it down as hard as she could.
Hermione chose to bite her lip rather than scream. She was crying silent tears of pain and anger by the twentieth blow, but she seemed determined not to scream for Dolores. It was not until Dolores parted her cheeks and landed a blow directly between them that she finally screamed.
Dolores set aside the tawse for now. She groped Hermione’s cunt and worked a finger into it, but Hermione was too dry and tight for what she had in mind. And the wards that were meant to protect her from Hermione’s magic would also prevent her from using magic to create lubrication. Dolores slapped her ass in frustration.
“Play with your cunt and get yourself wet,” she ordered.
“Never!”
Dolores wanted to fuck her. She needed it. She’d planned everything so perfectly and waited so long. She wasn’t going to let Hermione spoil her revenge. She feigned casualness. “All right. I suppose strapping it instead will be just as fun for me.”
She picked up the tawse, but before she could lash Hermione’s cunt, Hermione covered it with her hand. Dolores was about to strap her asshole, when Hermione began rubbing her clit. She used her other hand to hide her face.
Dolores decided to allow her that modicum of privacy for the moment, if that’s what it took to get her wet enough to fuck. She reached beneath her and squeezed her breasts roughly. She imagined herself milking Hermione like a cow, and began tugging at her nipples rhythmically. Too bad it had been too long since the birth of her last child.
She checked Hermione’s cunt periodically, and allowed her to keep masturbating even after she was sopping wet. But she watched her closely, and when it seemed she was on the brink of orgasm, she said, “Stop. Put both hands back flat on the bed and raise your head. Look at yourself, you filthy mudblood.”
Hermione met her gaze in the mirror and shot her a look of pure hate.
Dolores easily slid two fingers into her cunt and then a third. She’d gotten four fingers and half of her hand inside her when Hermione began to groan. Her groans were mostly - but not entirely - of pain.
She had to tuck her thumb, almost folding her hand in half, before she succeeded in getting her whole hand inside her. Dolores flexed her fingers, wringing a moan out of Hermione, who buried her face in the mattress.
“Look at yourself in the mirror. Do it!”
“You bitch,” Hermione responded. “You sick, twisted bitch.”
Dolores couldn’t be offended by the insult at the moment, not when she was wrist-deep in Hermione’s cunt. She curled her hand into a fist, and replied simply, “They say it takes one to know one.”
She grabbed Hermione’s hair and jerked her head up so she could watch her face in the mirror as she fucked her. Nothing had ever felt better than seeing the agony and helpless rage on Hermione’s face as she suffered her punishment. This was the most sublime moment of Dolores’s life, surpassing even the day she was promoted to Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic.
When Dolores finally withdrew her hand, Hermione groaned, and then she gave a sigh of relief, as though she thought it was over.
Dolores picked up the dildo she’d had lying in wait. It was a monstrous looking thing, as thick as her fist and almost as long as her arm. The nasty little shop in Knockturn Alley where she’d found it had boasted that it was modeled on a real centaur’s cock.
“No!” Hermione said. “No! You’ll kill me with that thing.”
“Oh, shush, you’re a witch, you’ll survive. Though you might need to head to St. Mungo’s when we’re done.”
Hermione wailed and begged for mercy, but eventually Dolores managed to work the first few inches into her. That was the hard part. Now it was just a matter of pushing with all her strength. Slowly more of the dildo disappeared into Hermione’s cunt.
But to Dolores’s disappointment, she simply could not get the entire thing to fit inside Hermione. It was too big to properly fuck her, too, but Dolores tried her best.
And she made Hermione keep it inside her when she ordered her off the bed and on her knees on the floor. Dolores perched on the edge of the bed and spread her legs.
“Come now, put that clever tongue to good use.”
Hermione looked so disgusted that for a moment Dolores thought she would retch. But she wedged her face between Dolores’ thighs and began to eat her cunt.
Dolores didn’t let her stop after she came, she made her keep licking until she had another orgasm and then a third. Then Dolores released her bladder. She hadn’t planned to pee on Hermione, it was a spur of the moment impulse.
Hermione coughed and gasped and this time she did retch.
Dolores stepped over the mess that was Hermione. She neatened her robes, and grabbed her handbag, and quickly strode from the room. She’d already set up a bank account containing the bulk of the funds collected in a foreign country whose name she could scarcely pronounce. Hermione would never be able to take revenge on her, while Dolores would have the rest of her life to savor her revenge.
She would, of course, also be sending the incriminating photographs to every member of the Weasley family and every publication in Wizarding Britain. If Hermione was as clever as she thought she was, then maybe she’d find a way to talk herself out of being divorced and disgraced.
Title: The Revenge of Dolores Jane Umbridge Against Hermione Jean Granger
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Umbridge/Hermione, background Hermione/Ron and Hermione/Viktor Krum
Word Count: 2,280
Summary: Just what the title says. ;)
Warnings: Blackmail, sexual coercion, sadism, humiliation, spanking, fisting, large insertion
Dolores is walking through the hallways of Hogwarts, leading her pet behind her on a leash. Hermione Granger is crawling on her hands and knees. She’s nude, of course, unless you count the fluffy pink tail attached to the plug buried up her ass.
When Dolores has settled herself in the Headmistress’s office for the day, she snaps her fingers and points to her pink patent leather saddle shoes. Hermione lowers her head further down and brushes her hair aside so Dolores can see her face while she licks her shoes clean and shiny.
And when Dolores needs a break from reading teachers’ reports on their students, she raises her robes and spreads her legs, and Hermione licks her cunt. Hermione has been well-schooled in the proper use of her tongue and now knows that it is not for arguing with her superiors.
Dolores rubbed her clit faster and muttered the command to increase the depth of penetration of her charmed dildo. This was her favorite fantasy and she’d masturbated to it too many times. It needed a new element.
Hermione understands her civic responsibilities well. Any trash they encounter littering Hogwarts is picked up by Hermione - with her mouth, of course, she knows better than to use her hands - and carried between her teeth to the nearest garbage bin.
Dolores decides that Hogwarts needs a new garbage unit. Instead of taking Hermione up into her office with her, she leaves her tethered out in the hall, beneath a sign imploring potential litterers to dispose of their garbage in the proper receptacle and reminding them that they have three orifices to choose from.
Hermione’s mouth is the students’ preferred place to dispose of their used chewing gum. They transfer gum they’ve tired of chewing directly from their mouths to hers, giving her well over a dozen such kisses on a good day.
Candy and snack wrappers usually go in her cunt. Sometimes the wrappers still have bits of food in them, and the heat of her cunt melts them to create quite a mess. But Dolores is happy to wash her out with ice-cold water every afternoon.
Her ass doesn’t get much use. Some broken quills, the occasional butterbeer bottle, and once a frustrated student carefully rolled up the parchment containing homework that had been graded F for failure and stuck it up there.
Dolores’s senses exploded in the most intense orgasm she’d had in ages.
She had always been a patient woman and ten years in Azkaban had honed her patience and given her time to plot her revenge. She’d wanted revenge on all of them, Harry Potter, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minerva McGonagall, the whole wretched Weasley family - she’d wanted to see them all dead, preferably after they’d suffered horribly.
But she’d realized who was ultimately to blame for her fall from power and her imprisonment: Hermione Granger. Harry Potter was an imbecile who would have failed and died without the support of Hermione Granger. Hermione was the one truly responsible for muggle-lovers taking control of the Ministry.
Dolores had no friends, that was true. She’d been destitute after her release from Azkaban, reduced to living in her father’s hovel in a muggle village. But Dolores had always been good at politics, and every good politician knew how to garner support and raise funds.
Most of the old powerful and wealthy families had lost many of their members to the war, and to Azkaban, and had their power and wealth greatly reduced. They survived by pretending to support the new regime, but they chafed under it. While they were not ready to go against the regime’s leaders themselves, quite a few respectable witches and wizards contributed to Dolores’s scheme for revenge against Hermione Granger.
Almost two years passed before the time came to take her revenge. Two years of developing contacts, collecting money, employing unsavory characters, and having everything Hermione Granger did and said recorded and reported to her. Two years of paying Hermione’s assistant to provide a sympathetic ear for her marital woes and to encourage her discontentment, for since the spies could find no evidence of professional misconduct and Hermione’s personal faults were lauded as admirable traits in Witch Weekly, Dolores needed to target Hermione’s only vulnerability.
Dolores would never understand why Hermione hadn’t taken Harry Potter for herself. She was pretty enough and talented enough at witchcraft that she could have married Potter if she’d wanted. Instead she’d allowed the Weasley daughter to have him, while she married the least of the Weasley sons. They were one big, happy family, with photos of them all appearing regularly in every newspaper and magazine in the wizarding world.
And now Dolores had photos that would ruin that pretense of a happy family. Hermione’s Weasley husband would certainly not be happy to see what had transpired in his wife’s hotel room when she’d gone to Paris for the pan-European conference on the rights of non-human creatures.
Dolores selected her favorite photograph - one in which Hermione was very enthusiastically bouncing on Viktor Krum’s cock - and wrote an address on the back. She gave it to her rented owl to deliver, and made herself comfortable in the dinghy room of a cheap hotel in the worst part of Muggle London.
There was a small mirror hanging on the wall opposite the bed and Dolores cast an Engorgement Charm until it expanded to cover the whole wall. She took the implements she’d brought to use on Hermione out of her bag and arranged them neatly. The tawse went on one pillow and the dildo went on the other.
Hermione barged into the room with her wand drawn - and the door slammed shut behind her.
The curses she tried to cast were unsuccessful. Dolores had paid a lot of her patrons’ galleons to a powerful and mercenary dark wizard, and the room was warded to prevent the use of magic once the door was closed fully.
“You’re smart,” Dolores told her sweetly. “Do let’s skip the questions and the threats.”
Hermione skipped straight to the negotiation. “I assume you want to return to the Ministry? I certainly will not help you get back into any position of power, but I can arrange to find you a position where you can collect a comfortable salary without being able to wreak harm on anyone.”
“The only position I’m interested in, Ms. Granger, is the one you will get into. I want you on your hands and knees on the bed.”
“You’re joking!” Hermione exclaimed. Then she seemed to notice the implements laid out on the bed, and she shot Dolores a look of pure disbelief.
“I can give you money,” she said. “Take it and go live your life in some other country where no one cares who you are and what you did.”
“I don’t want money. I want you to submit to the punishment you richly deserve.”
“I’m not going to let you beat me and rape me, you sick old cow!”
“Then your husband and his family and your friend Harry Potter will all receive photographs of your extramarital dalliance. I can have them delivered in minutes.”
“It was one time,” Hermione said, pleadingly, signaling that negotiations were over.
Dolores smiled sweetly at her. “Then you won’t mind the Weasley clan seeing how passionately you fucked Krum… almost as if you weren’t getting satisfaction at home…”
Hermione hung her head in surrender.
“Now, I want you entirely naked and on all fours.”
Hermione glared at her, no doubt wishing she could cast the Killing Curse with her eyes. She removed her robes and undergarments, and kicked off her shoes, and climbed onto the bed.
“The other way. Turn around. I want you to watch yourself in the mirror.”
Dolores watched Hermione’s face in the mirror as she picked up the tawse and used it to stroke her ass in a mock-caress. Then she raised it high and brought it down as hard as she could.
Hermione chose to bite her lip rather than scream. She was crying silent tears of pain and anger by the twentieth blow, but she seemed determined not to scream for Dolores. It was not until Dolores parted her cheeks and landed a blow directly between them that she finally screamed.
Dolores set aside the tawse for now. She groped Hermione’s cunt and worked a finger into it, but Hermione was too dry and tight for what she had in mind. And the wards that were meant to protect her from Hermione’s magic would also prevent her from using magic to create lubrication. Dolores slapped her ass in frustration.
“Play with your cunt and get yourself wet,” she ordered.
“Never!”
Dolores wanted to fuck her. She needed it. She’d planned everything so perfectly and waited so long. She wasn’t going to let Hermione spoil her revenge. She feigned casualness. “All right. I suppose strapping it instead will be just as fun for me.”
She picked up the tawse, but before she could lash Hermione’s cunt, Hermione covered it with her hand. Dolores was about to strap her asshole, when Hermione began rubbing her clit. She used her other hand to hide her face.
Dolores decided to allow her that modicum of privacy for the moment, if that’s what it took to get her wet enough to fuck. She reached beneath her and squeezed her breasts roughly. She imagined herself milking Hermione like a cow, and began tugging at her nipples rhythmically. Too bad it had been too long since the birth of her last child.
She checked Hermione’s cunt periodically, and allowed her to keep masturbating even after she was sopping wet. But she watched her closely, and when it seemed she was on the brink of orgasm, she said, “Stop. Put both hands back flat on the bed and raise your head. Look at yourself, you filthy mudblood.”
Hermione met her gaze in the mirror and shot her a look of pure hate.
Dolores easily slid two fingers into her cunt and then a third. She’d gotten four fingers and half of her hand inside her when Hermione began to groan. Her groans were mostly - but not entirely - of pain.
She had to tuck her thumb, almost folding her hand in half, before she succeeded in getting her whole hand inside her. Dolores flexed her fingers, wringing a moan out of Hermione, who buried her face in the mattress.
“Look at yourself in the mirror. Do it!”
“You bitch,” Hermione responded. “You sick, twisted bitch.”
Dolores couldn’t be offended by the insult at the moment, not when she was wrist-deep in Hermione’s cunt. She curled her hand into a fist, and replied simply, “They say it takes one to know one.”
She grabbed Hermione’s hair and jerked her head up so she could watch her face in the mirror as she fucked her. Nothing had ever felt better than seeing the agony and helpless rage on Hermione’s face as she suffered her punishment. This was the most sublime moment of Dolores’s life, surpassing even the day she was promoted to Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic.
When Dolores finally withdrew her hand, Hermione groaned, and then she gave a sigh of relief, as though she thought it was over.
Dolores picked up the dildo she’d had lying in wait. It was a monstrous looking thing, as thick as her fist and almost as long as her arm. The nasty little shop in Knockturn Alley where she’d found it had boasted that it was modeled on a real centaur’s cock.
“No!” Hermione said. “No! You’ll kill me with that thing.”
“Oh, shush, you’re a witch, you’ll survive. Though you might need to head to St. Mungo’s when we’re done.”
Hermione wailed and begged for mercy, but eventually Dolores managed to work the first few inches into her. That was the hard part. Now it was just a matter of pushing with all her strength. Slowly more of the dildo disappeared into Hermione’s cunt.
But to Dolores’s disappointment, she simply could not get the entire thing to fit inside Hermione. It was too big to properly fuck her, too, but Dolores tried her best.
And she made Hermione keep it inside her when she ordered her off the bed and on her knees on the floor. Dolores perched on the edge of the bed and spread her legs.
“Come now, put that clever tongue to good use.”
Hermione looked so disgusted that for a moment Dolores thought she would retch. But she wedged her face between Dolores’ thighs and began to eat her cunt.
Dolores didn’t let her stop after she came, she made her keep licking until she had another orgasm and then a third. Then Dolores released her bladder. She hadn’t planned to pee on Hermione, it was a spur of the moment impulse.
Hermione coughed and gasped and this time she did retch.
Dolores stepped over the mess that was Hermione. She neatened her robes, and grabbed her handbag, and quickly strode from the room. She’d already set up a bank account containing the bulk of the funds collected in a foreign country whose name she could scarcely pronounce. Hermione would never be able to take revenge on her, while Dolores would have the rest of her life to savor her revenge.
She would, of course, also be sending the incriminating photographs to every member of the Weasley family and every publication in Wizarding Britain. If Hermione was as clever as she thought she was, then maybe she’d find a way to talk herself out of being divorced and disgraced.