"Not only did he escape, he didn't even hide himself. Yesterday, he openly 'attacked' the International Confederation of Wizards and killed the Polish Minister for Magic and a North American official. He's completely lawless!"
The reason for Fudge's anger was naturally not because he had such a close relationship with International Confederation. It was because he despised Grindelwald's contempt for authority.
What Fudge hated most was precisely this kind of person, someone who relied on personal strength and refused to respect those in power. At that thought, he secretly glanced at Dumbledore, who was quietly listening beside them. If Grindelwald could kill the Polish Minister for Magic today, then tomorrow, did that not mean a British 'Minister for Magic' could be killed as well?
This was no ordinary dangerous criminal, had to be dealt with using the heaviest possible hand.
Lucifer, for his part, put on an expression of proper shock.
He turned to Dumbledore, face painted with just the right amount of shock. The old man's expression didn't change; he nodded, playing along.
"Yes," he said mildly. "The same Grindelwald... He broke out, kidnapped Gregorovitch to forge him a new wand, and then committed the 'atrocities' the Minister just described."
Dumbledore didn't believe for a second that Lucifer had no idea about the escape. Even if Newt and Tina hadn't mentioned it, Nicolas Flamel certainly would have.
When he had last met Flamel, the old alchemist couldn't stop grumbling about how Lucifer had "no shame," making a six-hundred-year-old man work like a pack mule. That kind of grumbling only came from genuine fondness, Nico clearly treated the boy like his son. He would absolutely have warned to be careful recently.
So, this performance now was nothing more than playing tricks on fools.
"And what does Minister Fudge mean by this?" Lucifer asked in confusion.
"Twenty-six Ministries of Magic have already contacted me, hoping to purchase a batch of protective equipment and WhatsApp notebooks from you. Naturally, our own Ministry also needs to make purchases, and we hope our priority can be placed near the front...."
"No problem." Lucifer nodded with a smile, "This weekend, then. I'll go to the Ministry, and we can discuss it in detail."
"Mr. Morningstar, you could release your current stock first. The price is negotiable."
It was only Tuesday, after all. Fudge himself was not really in a hurry. The Ministry still had quite a bit of stock on hand, and with Dumbledore in Britain, country was unlikely to become the main battlefield.
He was mainly here to urge Lucifer on behalf of the other Ministries.
It was a traditional British specialty.
Whether Muggle or wizard, when trouble came, the 'first' instinct was always to let other countries take the front line while Britain sat safely across the channel and played its balance-of-power games on the continent.
"I'll see what I can do," Lucifer replied politely, giving him just enough to sound cooperative without making any promises.
The room went quiet for a moment, until Scrimgeour suddenly spoke up, "Mr. Morningstar, have you ever considered... hiring staff? If you're short on funds or manpower, the Ministry could invest, offer resources and support."
Dumbledore immediately looked toward Fudge, who blinked back, clearly confused, and shook his head as if to say, 'Don't look at me, I didn't tell him to say that.'
Amelia Bones, meanwhile, frowned at once when her husband was put on line and said bluntly, "Rufus, are you trying to pry into Mr. Morningstar's business secrets?"
"Of course not." Scrimgeour denied it immediately, "I only hope he can expand production while reducing the Ministry's expenditures. It would be a win-win situation."
"A win-win? I'd like that too," Lucifer looked at him with an amused smile, that was eeriky sharp.
"Mr. Scrimgeour, Head of the Auror Office, correct? Do you understand alchemy?"
Scrimgeour hesitated for a moment, then shook his head, "Only roughly. I wouldn't say I understand it."
"I could tell."
The boy nodded cheerfully, "Only an ignorant fool like you would say something so stupid."
Scrimgeour's face darkened at once. With that mane-like hairstyle of his, he looked like an enraged lion, though somewhat like a sunflower that had crumpled in on itself.
"Morningstar, are you insulting me?"
"If 'telling the truth' counts as an insult, then yes, I am insulting you."
Lucifer pointed toward Fudge and Bones, "Your 'Minister' and your 'Department Head' are the smart ones. They wouldn't casually speak on subjects they know nothing about."
Then he turned and looked at Dumbledore.
"Professor, if I asked you to do it, could you replicate WhatsApp?"
Dumbledore shook his head slightly without hesitation, "Mr. Morningstar, while my alchemy is 'passable', the path I have studied is completely different from yours.... Never mind reproducing it, even now, I do not have the 'faintest' lead on many of its mysteries."
Lucifer spread his hands. "You hear that, Mr. Idiot? Find me a few alchemists stronger than Dumbledore, anywhere in Britain, hell, anywhere in the world... and I'll sell to the Ministry at cost and even hand over 'fifty percent' of my shop's shares. Think you can manage that?"
Scrimgeour's face went pale, then red, then somewhere in between. He opened his mouth but couldn't form a single word.
Fudge's own expression was a little odd. He'd loved hearing Lucifer call him "smart," and watching Scrimgeour get verbally flattened had been immensely satisfying. Still, laughing now would look terrible. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning and awkwardly offered a diplomatic save.
"Well... Rufus was just a bit overzealous. He only wants to make sure our Aurors are well protected."
Then he stood.
Originally, he had wanted to discuss with Dumbledore whether they should make some sort of public statement to calm the people, but under the current circumstances, it was clearly no longer suitable.
He could only wait for another opportunity, "We have other matters to attend at the Ministry, so we'll take our leave."
Fudge nodded politely to both Lucifer and Dumbledore before heading out with the others. The student here also started to rise, he hadn't even eaten breakfast yet but the Headmater stopped him.
"Lucifer," he said gravely.
"Grindelwald's escape is a dangerous threat to the Wizarding world. It could escalate into a catastrophe."
"I believe you, Professor," Lucifer said sincerely, "You defeated him once. You can do it again. So... whatever you plan to do, just go ahead. No need to tell me."
Dumbledore's next words caught in his throat, but he managed an awkward smile, "Actually, I don't have a plan yet. I only wanted to warn you... don't leave Hogwarts over the Christmas holidays. I'm afraid he might target you."
"Auntie Tina already warned me," Lucifer said lightly, "She told me to be careful of Grindelwald... and 'of you."
Dumbledore fell silent. He sighed inwardly, Lucifer wasn't just hard to fool anymore, no, he was impossible to fool from the start.
The boy had been alarmingly sharp from the day he set foot in Hogwarts, and after whatever Tina had told him, his carefully polished image was probably in tatters.
"...All right," he said finally, exhaling, "You're right as usual. But I really do need your help."
.....
Dumbledore's request, in the end, wasn't much different from Fudge's- he wanted to buy WhatsApp notebooks and gear, most likely for his own "inner circle."
Stil.... Walking out of the headmaster's office, Lucifer was in such a good mood that he even traded a few sarcastic remarks with the gargoyle guarding the door before heading downstairs.
The market had opened up. Dumbledore's order was small potatoes, but Fudge's offer? 'No limit, however much you can supply, I'll pay.'
That was kind of deal that could make you filthy rich. That was also why Grindelwald chose to make his move now, knew it would help sell items.
Lucifer was not merely a Comms provider, also the supplier of the payment system. And at the same time, he was an 'arms dealer!'
In times of peace, even if Ministries of other countries knew what products he had, they would not care. Why would they? There was no threat pressing on them. But now it was different, Grindelwald had made one move, and suddenly all of them had become obedient on high alert.
At the same time, the importance of WhatsApp had risen sharply as well. It would benefit alongside everything else, because among all forms of international communication, none had a lower cost, fastest way across borders.
"This time I really should thank Barty Crouch for the free publicity..."
Lady Bones had already explained what had happened, and Lucifer now understood why the news had spread to foreign ministries even before he'd officially launched the service.
As for paying Crouch back... The man wasn't helping out of goodwill, he clearly had his own motives, Lucifer wasn't going to fuss over being used; call it even. What bothered him now was production.
The Guardian Necklaces were high-end products, he was the only one who could make them, and they were his most profitable line.
The anti-curse cloaks and "Eyes of Warning," though, didn't need his personal touch. Those could be outsourced, and since Weasley twins' prank products had hit a sales slump thanks to Professor McGonagall's strict oversight, they were desperate for something new to work on anyway.
Their experiments had nearly landed Ron in the hospital wing last week. Giving them a real project might be good for everyone.
The twins were naturally gifted at alchemy, and Lucifer wasn't worried they'd mess up such low-tier items or turn down a paying gig.
By now, the two of them were practically possessed by the idea of opening a shop. As long as it earned money, forget merely asking them to work. Even if he told them to go sell themselves, they would probably stop and seriously consider it.
Before he realized it, Lucifer had wandered into the Great Hall. Most students had finished breakfast and gone off to class, leaving the huge space feeling a bit empty, he grabbed a piece of bread, chewed thoughtfully.
xxxxxx
In the Wizarding World, the volcano erupted.
Every Ministry of Magic in the world had tried to suppress the news of Grindelwald's escape, but they couldn't keep it quiet after he killed the Polish Minister of Magic and Sam Picquery.
Within two days, the story had spread everywhere.
Some people were shocked. Some terrified. Some stunned. And some... thrilled. Fifty years was a long time, two generations had come and gone.
But it was also short, because so many who'd lived through those dark years were still alive to remember.
They had passed on their memories and their fears. So, even though Grindelwald had vanished for half a century, the moment his name appeared in public again, that buried past was violently unearthed.
Across the globe, his followers, the Acolytes rejoiced. In dozens of countries, the symbol of the 'Deathly Hallows' reappeared in the sky. That glowing triangle struck terror into anyone who saw it.
"Now that's a statement..."
Thursday morning, Lucifer clicked his tongue as he stared at the 'Daily Prophet.' The front page bore the Hallows symbol and a simple, powerful headline: "He Who Returns."
Forget strength, just by influence alone, Grindelwald left Voldemort in the dust. The Deathly Hallows symbol could terrify half the world, while the Dark Mark only scared people in Britain. But not everyone causing trouble was a true acolyte, though.
Some were just fanatics who believed in Grindelwald's ideology.
At least Rosier's morning report confirmed that none of the Acolytes who actually knew Lucifer's existence had made any moves.
They'd all stayed silent.
That was good. The bigger the organization, harder it was to enforce discipline. You had to prioritize, keep your core circle loyal and obedient, and don't waste time micromanaging the fringe.
At the staff table, Professors were silent. Down at the four House tables, however, students were buzzing, all talking about Grindelwald.
Most of them hadn't known much before, the paper had published a surprisingly detailed piece this time.
Even Hermione, with all her encyclopedic knowledge, had only known the basics: 'Grindelwald was the dark wizard Dumbledore defeated in what was hailed as the greatest duel of the century, nothing more!'
That was deliberate, Wizarding world had buried his legacy on purpose, terrified his ideas might take root in a new generation. And they'd almost succeeded, until this prison break ruined everything.
""To let wizards live in the sunlight..." A Slytherin student read the quote from the paper, trembling with excitement, "He's right! Wizards should live openly! Why do we have to hide from Muggles?"
Someone else immediately chimed in, "Exactly! Wizards are the rightful rulers of this world!"
Another voice joined, "Who says he was a dark wizard? If Grindelwald had won, world would be better off!"
Professor McGonagall let out a deep sigh, damage was already showing. For the rest of the day, no class followed its normal schedule. Every teacher spent lessons explaining why Grindelwald's philosophy was dangerous and 'flawed.'
"Wizards and Muggles are equals," Professor Flitwick said in Charms class, "We all live in the same world, though in separate spheres. The 'Statute of Secrecy' exists to prevent another wave of hunts. Fear of the unknown breeds hatred, on both sides."
"If we ever fought Muggles like Grindelwald wanted, win or lose, the cost would be catastrophic. There aren't enough wizards in the world to fill a single Muggle city. Do you really want your family dying in a war like that?"
Every professor echoed the same warning. Dumbledore had prepared them well, he knew better than anyone how to counter Grindelwald's charm. By the end of the day, the 'feverish excitement' had cooled. The students sobered up, reminded that words like sacrifice and death weren't just abstract ideas.
Which suited him perfectly.
That night, Harry, Ron, Neville, Dean and Seamus were still talking about Grindelwald, their voices grating on his nerves. With a flick of subtle magic, he sent all five boy's into peaceful slumber.
Yawning, he pulled out 'A Hundred Uses for a Wizard's Skull' to pass the time. The grotesque illustrations were at least stimulating enough to keep him awake.
.......
The next day, Luna cornered him into a closed empty room, and news started regarding what she had learnt.
"Helena Ravenclaw"
---was one of Tom Riddle's victims.
When Voldemort had been a student, he was young, handsome, unfailingly polite, the kind of boy who could charm anyone while hiding his ambition and darkness where no one could see.
By chance, he'd learned Helena's true identity from ghost of the Bloody Baron, and 'from' that moment, he'd set his sights on her.
Feigning kindness and empathy, wrapping every word in warmth and flattery, he'd slowly won her trust. And in the end, she'd told him everything, even the secret none of the Headmasters themselves had known.
So when Luna once told about suspicion that Helena might not 'her' biological daughter, he'd been surprised for about half a second, then found it oddly fitting.
Helena was, frankly, an idiot.
She'd convinced herself that stealing diadem was an unforgivable sin, terrified herself into running away from Scotland all the way to Albania, like a kid who'd stolen a couple hundred pounds from their parents and decided to flee across the border to Siberia.
Then she got stabbed to death by a jealous man with a pocket knife. No magic, no dignity, just dead.
And after centuries of being a ghost, she still hadn't learned.
At sixteen, Voldemort had already managed to 'sweet-talk' her into revealing the Diadem's location.
Lucifer couldn't help but laugh.
She hadn't been very old when she died, sure, but ghosts could still think, still learn, still grow. Yet after a thousand years wandering Hogwarts, she was still painfully naive.
It really did say something about Rowena's "creations."
....Come to think of it, most of Rowena's constructs weren't that bright. Case in point: 'that idiotic gargoyle by the main gate.'
xxxxxxx
With November settling in, Hogwarts had grown even colder. The wind sliced at their faces like knives.
The upcoming Quidditch match had pushed Grindelwald gossip out of students' minds, everyone cared far more about
Hufflepuff vs Gryffindor game.
Originally it was supposed to be 'Gryffindor vs Slytherin', but Snape didn't want his students playing in such awful weather. He somehow managed to switch order of the matches, and Wood had been cursing him for days.
Lucifer wouldn't be able to show off his Firebolt, but at least Harry would open the season strongly with a Gryffindor victory.
It was one day after classes had ended and he and Hermione had a mountain of homework. They had both left for Library almost immediately and got to work.
They were through 'Ancient Runes,' 'Charms', and halfway through 'Arithmancy' when Hermione spoke up, "You want to take a short break? Most of this isn't due until the start of next week, and it's only Wednesday."
Lucifer looked up at her suspiciously, "Who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?"
"What?" She was caught off guard.
"You never suggest taking an extended break until it's done. Is ev-"
"Yeah, everything is fine," Hermione said smiling, "why wouldn't it be?"
"I dunno... it just doesn't seem like a 'you' thing to do," he pointed out.
"Look, is there anything you want to do with me?" Hermione asked, hoping he wanted to shove his cock in her mouth and fuck her face.
Only before Lucifer could think up the next thing to say, their table in the Library was approached by a timid looking first-year in Hufflepuff robes.
"E-E-Excuse me... b-but... a-are you Mr. Lucifer?" The young girl asked.
"I am...." he replied softly, hearing her nervous tone, "who wants to know?"
"Th-Th-This is for y-you," the girl dropped a pink letter on table and then hurried away from there.
"Incendio!" A loud voice yelled.
"Hermione, what the fuc-"
"It was just asking to be purged!"
"Come on-"
"No, let's just go to our room. My knickers are wet anyway...."
xxxxxx
Lucifer looked up as she entered the room. 'Bloody hell.' He had to cover his smile with one hand so she wouldn't think he was laughing at her. He really wasn't. He just wasn't expecting the full regalia.
That wasn't her Hogwarts uniform;
skirt was red plaid and the shirt was too 'form-fitting' to be regulation.
It clung to her like a second skin.
The top three buttons were undone, giving him a glimpse of her cleavage. White knee socks and penny loafers completed the ensemble.
Hermione looked sweetly sexy, and he wanted to flip her over his knee and find out what kind of knickers she had put on. She self-consciously twirled a curl around her finger as she squirmed under his gaze.
She'd somehow pulled her hair into bunches as any self-respecting naughty schoolgirl would and he had the urge to grab one in each hand and hold her reins while he rode her face.
'Maybe later.'
"You're just on time, Miss Granger. Come in."
Hermione mashed her lips together so she wouldn't start giggling. She felt slightly silly, but her pussy didn't seem to have any reservations.
The gusset of her knickers was already blotted with excitement.
"Do you know why I've asked you to come and see me this evening?" Lucifer kept his voice dark and low, reserving the purr that made her so creamy for later.
"No, sir. Am I in trouble?"
She was wringing her fingers together, just as she had the first night he'd spanked her. She really was nervous. He couldn't blame her. Exposing one's secret fantasies could be terrifying.
"Trouble is a relative term," Lucifer replied enigmatically. Sitting back, he used his years of experience to intimidate her with his body language, spreading his arms along the couch back and making himself appear larger.
"You've been defacing school property."
Hermione stared at him, "I have?" Where was he going with this?
"Yes. Every day when you leave my class, your chair is mysteriously damp. Would you care to explain?"
She bit her lip so she wouldn't smile, "Uh . . . I really fancy your lectures?"
The corners of his mouth twitched, but he pursed lips to hide it.
"I see. Come closer, Miss Granger."
When she was standing before him, he nodded at her hem. "Lift your skirt."
Hermione crossed her hands in front of her. "Why?"
"Because I want to see if you're telling the truth."
"I wouldn't lie to you, sir."
"Lift your skirt, young lady, or I'll turn you over my knee and lift it for you."
Hermione was happy either way. She curled her fingers around the hem and lifted her skirt to her waist.
Leaning forward to observe, Lucifer smirked at the tiny wet spot already forming on the white cotton.
White cotton. Such a good girl.
"What's this?" he asked, lightly touching the transparent circle. "I haven't been lecturing."
That one tiny touch hadn't been enough; her pearl was trying to swell its way out of her shell. "I was excited about seeing you alone, sir."
He sat back again, giving her a cool arch of one eyebrow. "Were you? You're not one of those girls who sits through class daydreaming about being bent over the teacher's desk, are you?"
'Guilty.' "Is that wrong if I dreamt about you, sir?"
"It depends on what you intend to do about it. Being teacher's pet in my classroom isn't a position for the faint of heart. I like to see a red bottom at all times."
She nodded eagerly. "Yes, sir."
"And I like a witch who can take the cane without complaint. A witch who enjoys it is even more pleasing."
The cane. That just made her knickers wetter. "I can please you, sir. Please give me a chance to prove myself to you."
"I'll work even harder in the future to become your best Head Girl."
"I had no idea you were so accommodating. If you can take everything.. I deal out tonight, I might be persuaded to show you the perks of being teacher's pet."
"Yes, sir. I'm ready."
"Go bend over the table in the Kitchen. I'll be there in a minute."
"Yes, sir."
Lucifer waited until she was out, then opened his pouch for supplies: the cane, the big leather paddle, a piece of parchment, and a self-inking quill.
Leaving the wooden paddle, he gathered up everything else and headed for the kitchen.
She was waiting for him just as requested: bent over, hands and elbows flat on the table.
xxxxx
Lucifer laid everything out where she could see it. "Do you know what the penalty is for leaving your bodily fluids all over one of my chairs?"
'Well, I'm guessing it's not pussy-licking,' she thought, looking over his haul. "No, sir."
"We'll start with lines. When you've convinced me you've learned your lesson, I'll give you six licks with the paddle. Remember, to become Head Girl you need to work even better. So, your punishment will naturally have to be more severe as a warning to the others."
"Yes, sir. What should I write?"
"I think we'll start with . . . I will not hump the classroom chairs." Lucifer pushed the parchment in front of her and held out the quill. "Fifty times. I suggest you write quickly."
Hermione's face was flaming.
He was really good at this game. She hadn't been prepared for him to be so intense. He was playing it straight, acting like a 'real professor' . . . who conducted the most inappropriate detentions ever.
His voice growled through her guts, making her stomach tremble. He'd never really been super strict with her. Spankings were always a fine balance of smacks and strokes.
And so far, all her adventures with the cane had been the same: sensual and stingy. Hermione wanted the naughtiness, but she wanted the rush of discipline too.
That was why she had mentioned the story. That professor was a good mix of painful punishment and sweet sex.
She wanted the 'fucking' a little rougher than that, but she still wanted him to take care of her.
That was hard to explain. It might sound contradictory to anyone else, but she knew Lucifer would understood.
She took the quill from his hand and set to work on her lines.
Lucifer stood behind her for minute, taking a mental picture of her bent over so temptingly, her bum and pussy just out of sight beneath the red plaid.
He would expose her exactly the way she wanted, embarrass her with her own desires.
If she thought her knickers were wet now, she didn't know what was coming. That arse was his.
He'd tag it with his finest graffiti.
Flipping up her skirt, he smirked at her little cotton knickers. She'd gone for innocent over naughty.
He never knew which Hermione was going to come out to play.
Some days she'd be begging to be his good girl, wearing her hair in bunches and squirming around like an embarrassed virgin; other days, she'd be sprawled out in her bed like a princess, a wicked smirk curling her pink lips as she turned over to show him her naked arse being bisected by the black lace of her teddy.
That Hermione got on top of him and rode him like a undulating goddess.
Passionate Hermione, on the other hand, rode him like a Brahman Bull.
She'd show up out of the blue, ambushing him like a panther springing from the underbrush.
He usually had scratch marks or bruises the next day to commemorate the attack. He found himself absently fingering each injury when he was lost in thought.
Lucifer wasn't averse to pain when it reminded him of such pleasures.
But most weekends were dominated by 'Naughty Schoolgirl Hermione,' who liked to stick her well-spanked arse in the air and wiggle it around until he entered her from behind and pounded against her like rolling thunder.
All those Hermiones kept him on his toes, and he adored each one.
The only one he didn't have name for was the one who liked the fucking deep and slow while she stared into his eyes like a mesmerist on morphine. She would stroke his face and kiss him like an angel as he rocked inside her.
Maybe that was the natural Hermione. She made what they were doing seem less like sex and more like a melding of their souls.
No other woman had ever made him feel like that.
Lucifer 'fucking' loved that Hermione.
He wasn't totally sure which Hermione he was dealing with tonight, but he suspected it wasn't really Naughty Schoolgirl Hermione.
Perhaps a close cousin.
The one thing all her sexual personalities had in common was a penchant for spanking. This one seemed to be of the same mould.
'Smack!'
Hermione jumped as his hand slapped her right cheek. It left behind a warm handprint that faded where it met with the border of her knickers.
'Smack!' Her quill left a scribbled scratch in its wake.
'Shit.' Now her lines weren't neat.
'Smack!' She sucked in her breath.
'Smack!' Did he seriously expect her to write while he was doing that?
"I don't hear lines being written, Miss Granger." Smack!
"You'd better finish your assignment." 'Smack!'
Bloody hell. She tried to keep writing.
'I will not hump the classro--- '
'Smack! Fuck!'
'I will not hu—Smack!'
'Double fuck!'
Every slap left a huge slash in her sentence. It looked as though a seismograph was predicting a coming earthquake.
'I will not—Smack!' It was hard to concentrate.
'Smack!' He was getting faster.
She tried to keep up with his rhythm, writing faster to match the pace.
Smack! "Mm!"
"How many lines do you have, Miss Granger?"
Hermione started to count.
'Smack!' It took her three tries to come up with an answer. "Twenty-four, sir."
'Smack!' "If this isn't inspiring enough for you, I can pull down your knickers and we can do this on the bare."
'Smack!'
"No, no, sir! I'm writing as fast as I can!" Those knickers were the only thing keeping her arse from spontaneously combusting.
"Tell me when you get to thirty, and I'll check your work."
'Smack!'
Hermione felt as if she were writing lines on a Waltzer at the circus. Her pulse was racing, perhaps trying to outrun the fire spreading over her backside.
'Smack! Oh God!' Her pussy was trying to put out the fire too.
All liquid had been diverted to her sex to keep it protected from the flames.
'Smack!' "Done, sir!"
Lucifer leaned over her, smirking when she sighed in relief. "Your handwriting is atrocious. I can barely read this. If you're going to write like child, I'm going to have to punish you like one."
Hermione was still reeling from the sting. She felt his fingers on her hips, and then her knickers were sliding over her arse like a sheet of heat.
He left them right below her bum, exposing her cheeks. The cotton crotch was still absorbing her overflow.
"Just twenty more lines," Lucifer said, tapping her parchment with one finger. "I want you to tell me every time you get four lines finished. Do you understand me, young lady?"
He cupped her fiery buttocks in one hand and gave it squeeze.
"Yes, sir."
He waited for her write one line just to make sure she still had her wits about her.
Then he picked up the cane.
Giving his hand a decent thwack, he tested the sting. 'Hm.' The most memorable lines were the ones that traversed a penitent bottom.
Hermione froze as he began to tap the rattan against her bare bum.
He wasn't hitting her with it, but it felt as though the most impatient clock in the world was reminding her to get a move on.
She sped up to keep it happy. "Okay, sir. I did four!"
Lucifer measured out his aim and slashed the first stroke deep into the crest of her buttocks.
'Swish-crack!'
"Ow!" she hissed, reaching back to cover her arse.
Lucifer grabbed her wrist. "Your hands stay on the table." He returned her hand to its proper place.
"Good Girls take their lines willingly. Did you still want to be teacher's pet?"
The sting slowly died, leaving behind a spreading band of warmth. "Y-yes, sir. I want to be yours."
Lucifer smiled. This was not Schoolgirl Hermione (despite the misleading uniform); this was Submissive Hermione.
He hadn't seen her in a long time.
'Welcome back.'
"Then write your lines like a good girl and show me how brave you are."
Hermione nodded and went back to her parchment. 'I will not hump the classroom chairs.'
'Tap. Tap. Tap.'
Her eyes rolled back in her head, her pussy twitching with each bump of the cane. Swallowing hard, she did the next two lines.
'I will not hump the classroom chairs.'
'Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.'
It was a ticking bomb, waiting to go off as reward for her obedience.
'I will not hump the classroom chairs.' "I'm done, sir!"
'Swish-crack!'
"Unh!" She panted for a minute, staring at the scribbled lines swimming before her eyes.
'Tap. Tap. Tap.' The metronome was back, reminding her the song wasn't over yet.
She looked down at her parchment in a daze. 'I will . . .' She had to check the previous sentence.
'Not hump the classroom chairs. Right. No humping.'
Hermione smiled at the quill. It might write the words, but it didn't know her promise was all lies. If he sat her in a chair right now, she'd probably come all over it.
"Finished, sir!"
He lined up the next lick under the first two. Her arse looked gorgeous.
Every time she sat down inside the class from now on, Hermione'd remember this very moment.
She'd remember him.
'Swish-crack!' Her cheeks wobbled with the impact, and a red line bloomed over both hillsides, "Fuck, it really hurts!"
Hermione unlocked her jaw and let out a short huff of relief before resuming her writing. She wasn't just wet now, she was delirious with fever.
Her back was sweating and sticking to her shirt. She was glad her skirt was so breezy. "Done, sir!"
'Swish-crack!'
"Mmm!" She dropped her face to her hand and breathed through the sting.
He was right there behind her, tapping out a friendly "I'm still here" in Morse Code.
When the pain fizzled, Hermione started her last set of lines.
'I will not hump the classroom chairs.'
She wondered if the chair in his dormroom, counted as a classroom chair. Next time she went to his room, Hermione was going to hump the hell out of it. "'That's fifty, sir!"
Lucifer marked out his last stroke and gave her a finale she wouldn't soon forget. 'Swish-CRACK!'
"OW!" Hermione didn't reach back, but she dug her nails into the tabletop.
Lucifer nodded in approval. She'd kept her hands away and taken her caning without whining.
He rubbed her bum for her, feeling the welts rising and falling like braille under his fingers.
He longed to kneel down and lick away the pain for her, but they weren't finished yet.
"Now you have enough stripes to outrank your classmates. Should I have you... come to the front of the class tomorrow and show everyone how much you want to be my Head Girl?"
Hermione closed her eyes as he traced each bar. He slid up and down the scale like a carnal composer. "Yes, sir."
Lucifer smirked. She wasn't intimidated by fake threats of exposure. "Good. Then you also wouldn't mind spending some time in the corner of the room . . . with the curtains open."
Her eyes popped wide. "Uh . . ."
"But not yet," he added with a grin. "You've still got the paddle. I think a good half dozen should leave a nice impression. Tell me again what lesson you're learning."
"I will not hump the classroom chairs, sir."
"Are you a good girl?"
Hermione smiled at the table. "Yes, sir. Please may I have the paddle. I want to prove I'm your good girl."
Lucifer wiped the smile off his face and leveled out his voice. "That was a very good start. I really believe you want to please me." He set the cane on the table and picked up the paddle.
"I think you should take off your skirt. I don't want it getting in the way."
Hermione rose, getting her bearings after being bent over for so long.
She unfastened her skirt and let it fall to the floor. Her knickers were still snug around her hips, framing the base of her bum in white.
Lucifer nudged her back with the paddle. "Bend over. Hands on the table. Count each one, and I want to hear a thank you after the sixth lick."
"Yes, sir," she said, bracing her hands on the table and preparing for the first blow.
He rubbed the leather over her heated backside, deciding how hard to hit her. 'Her arse must be screaming from the cane....'
He'd keep it medium hard. 'Thwack!'
"Mm!" Her bum flared with heat. "One."
'Thwack!'
"Two!"
Lucifer checked her cheeks, smoothing his hands over each globe to test the temperature.
Her skin was roasted. Getting back in place, he measured out his swing again.
'Thwack!'
"Ah! Three!"
'Thwack!'
"F-Four!" she panted. Her arse was throbbing now, a heartbeat of heat pulsing through her cheeks.
'Thwack!'
"Five!"
'Thwack!'
"Six! Thank you, sir!"
He tossed the paddle on the table.
Palming a cheek in each hand, Lucifer rubbed away the soreness and spread her wide so she could feel the cool air caressing her crack.
"That's my girl," he purred, giving her what she needed most—his praise.
"I'm very proud of you. And your bum looks magnificent. I'll let you rest now. Take off your shirt and bra and go open the curtains in room. Stand in the corner closest to the hall so I can watch you from the couch . . . and so the First-years playing outside can see how naughty you've been."
Hermione blushed, but she did just as he asked, stripping off her shirt and bra. It was a relief to get out of them; her entire body was burning up.
She didn't know what to do about her knickers. He hadn't told her to take them off.
Lucifer saw her hesitation. "Leave those knickers right where they are. I'll take them off when detention is over."
Hermione nodded and whispered, "Yes, sir," as she half-waddled into the room.
Peeking around the curtain, through her large window, she didn't see anyone out in the garden.
Maybe no one would look her way.
She went to the corner and curled into it. Facing the wall like a petulant child was embarrassing, but it also gave her a chance to rest.
xxxxxx
Author's Note
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1 Extra Chapter - 125 Power Stone's! 🎉