Seducing the Light - 4 (Patreon)

Disclaimer: I do not have any rights of ownership for the characters used except the OC's. All the credit goes to the authors. Only the plot belongs to me. All characters are aged up (above 18) and are consenting adults. This is a work of fiction and does not resemble reality in any way whatsoever. Exclusive story for Dragon King and Heavenly Dragon members.

Chapter 4

~ Hermione Granger ~

The mirror in Hermione Granger’s childhood bedroom had never seen such an aggressive, devastating transformation. For hours, the brightest witch of her age had stood before the full-length glass, entirely abandoning the identity that the entire Wizarding World had come to expect of the bookish, plain, nerdy girl. In its place, a chaotic sea of discarded fabrics, sensible wool skirts, and high-collared blouses littered the pastel carpet, cast aside like the moulted skin of a girl who no longer existed.The stage of her descent had arrived, and with it, a metamorphosis that completely eradicated her modesty.Hermione stared at her reflection, her amber eyes wide and intensely feverish. Her visage had shifted into something undeniably, deliberately provocative. Gone were the shapeless Hogwarts robes that covered her form from head to toe; gone were the practical jumpers that hid her evolution puberty had brought on. Today, she wore a collection of garments explicitly chosen to demand the attention of the man who had captivated her.She had settled on a thin, emerald-green silk blouse, the neckline plunging precariously low to offer up the pale, flawless swell of her perky, firm breasts. The fabric was practically translucent in the sunlight, clinging to every heavy, bouncing curve of her chest and showcasing the hard, tight peaks of her nipples that strained eagerly against the delicate material. Below, a tailored black pencil skirt gripped her waist with a suffocating tightness, aggressively hugging the lush, wide curve of her hips before tapering off just above her knees.Every time she shifted her weight, the reflection in the mirror betrayed her. Her wide hips swayed with a heavy, intoxicating grace. Her breasts shifted and spilled against the low-cut boundary of the silk.

She looked decadent.

She looked like a woman who was absolutely starving for ruin.And she was.As she stared at her glossed lips, the memory of Narcissa Malfoy’s depraved devotion violently flickered in her thoughts, igniting an inferno deep within her lower belly. The image of the haughty pureblood matriarch on her knees, her perfectly styled blonde hair clutched in those long, elegant fingers, her throat working rhythmically around the impossibly thick, glistening head of Lord Thomas’s monstrous endowment… it was seared into Hermione’s brain.

She could still hear the wet, sloppy sounds of her oral worship. She could still smell the heavy, intoxicating musk of his dark magic, perfectly blended with the primal odour of his arousal.That single sight had completely altered Hermione’s rigid logic. For years, she had built her identity upon a fortress of rules, arithmancy, and flawless academic execution. But what good was a textbook when compared to the earth-shattering power of true power that rest in the lap of the man she dreamt every night of? What good was an 'Outstanding' on her O.W.L.s when all she wanted, with a singular, desperate hunger, was Lord Thomas’s validation?’That should have been me,’ her inner voice whispered, thoroughly corrupted and dripping with a dark, heavy jealousy. ’I am the one he teaches. I am his favourite pupil. I should be the one taking that massive length down my throat. I should be the one whimpering under his weight.’Her hands travelled down to her sides, her fingertips grazing the tight fabric of her skirt. The damp heat pooling between her wide, trembling thighs was agonizing. Just the mere thought of the heavy silhouette she had seen bulging against the dark fabric of his tailored trousers was enough to make her breath hitch and her core give a shaky, involuntary throb. She had become absolutely obsessed with the sheer, monumental scale of his needs, fuelled by her own secret, desperate longing to be the only one capable of satisfying them.With a resolved, shaky breath, Hermione turned away from the mirror. There was no more running. There was no more hiding behind Gryffindor pride. She was going back to the alley, back to the shadows of his shop, and she was going to lay her brilliance entirely at his feet.

~ Hermione Granger ~

The late August heat of Diagon Alley was stifling, but Hermione hardly felt it. She moved through the bustling cobblestone streets like a woman possessed, her high heels clicking sharply against the stone.Wizards and witches alike stopped to stare. How could they not? The transformation was spectacular. The men she passed found their eyes helplessly magnetically drawn to the firm, proud bounce of her breasts threatening to spill from the low-cut green silk, and the hypnotic, heavy sway of her lush hips. A group of older warlocks outside the Leaky Cauldron practically dropped their daily prophets, openly gawking at the breathtaking bombshell that had seemingly materialized out of thin air.

Maybe she should have worn a coat? Something to keep in mind next time. Hermione ignored them all. Their stares meant absolutely nothing.Only one man deserved to look at her, to devour her with his gaze.

The mundane, ordinary men of the wizarding world were completely invisible to her now. She was a moth drawn to a singular, all-consuming flame.She turned down the narrow, winding offshoot that led to Obscurus Antiquities & Tomes. The shadows of the alleyway embraced her, cooling her flushed skin. The golden lettering on the door gleamed in the dim light, practically beckoning her inside.Hermione pushed the heavy oak door open.Ding.The lonely, piercing chime of the bell echoed through the cavernous labyrinth of towering bookshelves. The shop was enveloped in that perfectly chilled, intoxicating air—the heavy scent of ancient parchment, melting beeswax, and the sharp tang of raw, unfiltered dark magic. It felt like walking into the jaws of a beautiful, terrifying predator."The shop is closed for the afternoon," a voice drifted from the shadowy depths of the store, vibrating with a brooding, aristocratic intensity. A voice she had been craving to listen to. Hermione’s heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She pushed the door shut behind her, the lock clicking into place with a definitive, sealing snap.She walked deeper into the space, her hips swaying deliberately, every click of her heels announcing her absolute, undeniable presence. She navigated the labyrinth of grimoires until she reached the heavy velvet curtain that separated the mundane storefront from his private study. Taking a deep, ragged breath that pushed her breasts high against the plunging neckline of her blouse, she swept the curtain aside.Lord Thomas was standing by his desk, examining a piece of weathered parchment. He looked breathtakingly, terrifyingly magnificent. He wore a fitted black dress shirt, the top three buttons casually undone, revealing the strong, pale expanse of his muscular chest. His dark hair, laced with those striking, seasoned streaks of liquid silver, fell perfectly across his forehead.But as Hermione stepped into the dim, fire-lit study, her gaze was frequently, helplessly drawn downward.There it was. Even at rest, the bulge in the Lord’s trousers was unmistakable. The thick, elongated silhouette strained against the expensive dark fabric of his slacks, resting heavily against his muscular thigh. It radiated an unholy gravity that made Hermione’s mouth go instantly dry. Her body language shifted unconsciously, radiating an innocent yet incredibly insatiable desire. She stood there, her hands clasped nervously behind her back, her wide hips canted to the side, presenting the magnificence of her newly embraced curves.Voldemort slowly lifted his head, his deep blue eyes, flecked with mesmerizing crimson, locking onto her.For a long, suffocating moment, the study was completely silent, save for the crackling of the fire in the hearth. The Dark Lord’s gaze was a physical weight, a scorching, heavy assessment that tracked every single inch of her transformation. He took in the precarious, plunging dip of her emerald blouse. He noted the way her firm, perky breasts heaved with her erratic breathing. His eyes trailed down to her narrow waist, and finally, settled on the lush, wide flare of her hips encased in the tight black skirt.A devastating, wicked smile slowly curved his perfectly sculpted lips. The brilliant, stubborn mudblood had finally responded to what her soul desired. She had dressed herself like a prized offering, entirely eager to lay down on the altar."Well," Thomas purred, his voice dropping into a seductive register that sent a cascade of electric shivers straight down Hermione's spine. "This is certainly a change from the Hogwarts-approved uniform. To what do I owe the absolute pleasure of this... awakening, Miss Granger?"Hermione swallowed hard, trying to summon the confident banter she had rehearsed in her head, but finding her intellect utterly useless in the face of his overwhelming aura. "I... I realized that my previous attire was entirely too restrictive. For my studies. I need to be able to... feel the magic."Her voice was breathy, trembling, absolutely dripping with latent desperation.Thomas chuckled, the resonant, melodious sound echoing off the stone walls. He dropped the parchment onto his desk and turned fully toward her. He moved with the lithe, predatory grace of a panther, his broad shoulders shifting effortlessly as he began to slowly close the distance between them."Feel the magic," he repeated softly, the lowly excuse his pupil came up with dripping from his tongue. "An interesting hypothesis, Hermione. Though I must admit, I find it incredibly difficult to believe that a mind as famously rigid as yours has suddenly decided to abandon its rules for the sake of... feeling."He stopped mere inches from her. The ambient heat rolling off his towering, heavily muscled frame was suffocating. The scent of his dark spices and sheer, unapologetic power enveloped her completely. Hermione had to tilt her head back just to meet his crimson-flecked eyes."I don't care about the rules anymore," Hermione whispered, the truth spilling from her lips with a frantic, unyielding honesty. Her eyes darted down, completely unbidden, to the massive bulge in his trousers, before snapping back up to his sharp jawline. "I only care about what you can teach me. About what you want from me."The absolute submission in her tone was the final key turning in the lock.The Dark Lord’s eyes darkened into a raging, possessive inferno. He finally reached out to claim what was his.With predatory intent, his large, elegantly pale hands shot forward. He didn't ask. He didn't hesitate. He grabbed her waist with bruising, absolute authority and pulled her forcefully forward.Hermione gasped, a sharp intake of breath that shattered the silence of the room, as she was pulled flush against his towering, muscular frame. The impact was dizzying. Her soft, heavy breasts crashed into the unyielding wall of his chest, and her wide, yielding hips collided perfectly with his powerful pelvis. Through the thin layers of her clothing, she could feel the searing, iron-hot pressure of his cock pressing firmly against her stomach.She was completely entrapped by his body, and she had never felt more exquisitely relieved in her entire life.Voldemort wasn't one for patience. He caught the hem of her pencil skirt, bunching the fabric in a fist as he shoved it upward with a rough, practiced ease. "Let’s see what you’re hiding, shall we?" he hummed, his voice dripping with dark confidence. His long, elegant fingers didn't stop at her thighs; they slid further, finding the firm, rounded swell of her ass draped in the delicate, scratchy luxury of black lace."Oh god," Hermione breathed, her back arching as his palm made contact with the thin, floral mesh.He let out a low, predatory chuckle, his hand moulding to her curves with an agonizingly possessive grip. He squeezed the full weight of her ass, his thumb hooking under the edge of the lace to press directly into her heated skin. He weighed her, relishing the way her flesh yielded to his strength, finding the lush, heavy bounty of her rump spectacularly adequate for his needs.Simultaneously, his other hand rose with a deliberate, terrifyingly slow precision. He laid his palm flat against her chest, right above her racing heart, before sliding it firmly downward to completely capture one of her perky breasts.The contrast between his hand and her soft, agonizingly sensitive flesh was mind-altering. He weighed her breast in his palm, squeezing the firm mound with a demanding, rhythmic pressure that sent a jolt of pure, liquid pleasure straight to her core. Through the incredibly thin, translucent silk of her emerald blouse, he found the hard, tight peak of her nipple.With a dark, wicked smirk, his thumb raked roughly over the sensitive nub."Oh... Thomas..." Hermione moaned, her voice completely losing its refined, intellectual edge, dissolving into a pathetic, desperate whine of pure pleasure. Her logical mind completely flatlined. The brilliant Hermione Granger was gone, replaced entirely by a creature of flesh, heat, and absolute obedience.She didn't pull away. Instead, she completely abandoned her pride. She arched her back dramatically, thrusting her heavy breast deeper into his capturing palm, leaning her entire body weight into the sheer, radiating heat of his hands."You possess a truly magnificent body, Miss Granger," Lord Voldemort hissed, his voice a rich, seductive baritone that dripped with absolute, terrifying possession. The dark magic practically bled from his pores, wrapping around her like a heavy blanket. "It would be a sin to keep such perfection veiled.""Please," she whimpered, her hands flying up to grip his broad, commanding shoulders as she struggled to keep her legs from giving out entirely. "Please, touch me. Don't stop.""I have no intention of stopping, my brilliant girl," he growled softly, his thumb continuing to mercilessly flick and rake over her hard nipple, sending violent shudders of ecstasy down her spine. "You have hidden this bounty behind textbooks and arrogant Gryffindor bravado for far too long. But you are mine now. And I will explore every single inch of my new prize."He kneaded her soft, bouncy flesh with an expert, ruinous rhythm. The hand beneath her skirt squeezed her ass harder, his long fingers trailing dangerously close to the soaked, aching center of her heat, though never quite granting her the release she so desperately craved. He was edging her with his sheer presence, winding her up like a tightly coiled spring of unadulterated lust.His hand abandoned her heavy breast for a fleeting moment, leaving it aching and cold, only to roam downward, tracing the dramatic, sweeping curve of her waist before settling heavily onto the lush flare of her hip. He squeezed her hipbone, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs, anchoring her against the heavy, throbbing silhouette in his trousers.Then, his other hand moved upward. His long fingers trailed from her collarbone, grazing the erratic, frantic pulse at the base of her neck, before wrapping firmly, possessively around the curve of her throat.Hermione’s breath hitched, her amber eyes flying open to meet the blazing, crimson-flecked depths of his gaze. The grip on her throat wasn't tight enough to choke her, but it was incredibly firm—an absolute, physical manifestation of his dominance over her very life and breath."Do you feel it, Hermione?" Voldemort whispered, leaning his stunningly handsome face down until his lips were mere millimetres from hers. His breath danced across her mouth, tasting of dark magic and expensive mint. "The absolute insignificance of your rules? The failure of your precious logic?""Yes," she breathed, her chest heaving against his chest, her hips involuntarily rolling forward, trying to chase the friction of his massive, unyielding cock through their clothes. "Yes, it's all gone. I only want you.""Good," he purred, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin of her throat. "You are learning, Hermione. You saw what happens to those who truly devote themselves to me. You saw the heights of pleasure I can drag a willing mind toward."The mention of Narcissa sent a fresh, blinding wave of jealous heat straight to her soaked core. "I can be better," Hermione whined, her nails digging desperately into the expensive fabric of his black shirt. "I can serve you better than she can. I can take more. Please, my Lord... let me show you."A low, resonant chuckle vibrated against her chest. The Dark Lord’s victory was absolute. He had taken the untouchable crown jewel of the Light, and with nothing more than his dark charisma and a display of magical power and virility, he had reduced her to a desperate, whimpering mess in the palm of his hand."Oh, you will show me, Miss Granger," Voldemort promised, his grip on her throat tightening just a fraction of an inch, sending a thrilling, terrifying spike of adrenaline straight through her veins. He leaned in, his lips finally brushing fiercely against hers. "But you will do it on my terms. You will yield everything to me. Your mind, your magic, and this incredibly spectacular, magnificent body."Hermione arched against him, entirely ruined, entirely consumed, and entirely, beautifully his.