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Fic: A Temporary Solution to Exam Jitters, Romilda/Hannah, R/NC-17

Title: A Temporary Solution to Exam Jitters
Author: yamapea
Disclaimer: Not mine in the least bit!
Rating: R/NC-17
Pairing: Hannah Abbott/Romilda Vane
Summary: Romilda has always wanted to do a Prefect.
Warnings: dub-con, canon manipulation
A/N: I know that Hannah is like the minorest of minor characters, but I always felt some sympathy for her, a kindred anxious spirit. I think that, aside from the DA, her biggest mention in canon is her pre-OWLs mental breakdown. I thought it would be nice of Romilda to contribute to that. :)



It's only three months, one week and four days until OWLs, and Hannah Abbott didn't think she'd make it. She'd been anxiously tracking hours spent revising, but it was getting difficult keeping track of that, too. Last Monday she'd woken up in the library with the 1483 Goblin Rebellion printed neatly on her forehead. This morning, she'd mistaken the day for Saturday and had missed all of her classes. It was actually a Thursday, and she was supposed to have Prefect duties tonight.

She'd been counting on clocking double the time today, and she was pleased with herself for having revised her entire 3rd year of Herbology already. But just as Hannah was moving on to Gillyweed, a voice interrupted.

"Is anyone sitting here?"

Hannah glanced up at her visitor and frowned. It was that fourth year Gryffindor girl, the one Hannah always caught staring in the Great Hall. The one who'd cut her hair like Harry Potter.

"Oh... no, I'm just revising."

Romilda Vane the Gryffindor smiled, bright white teeth making her lips look extra red, and slid easily into the chair across from Hannah.

Hannah resettled her gaze on Magical Plants of the Mediterranean, and there was a brief, awkward pause.

"Would you like something to help with your revising?" Romilda asked sweetly.

Hannah fiddled nervously with her quill as she looked up. "Like what?"

Romilda smiled again as she set a delicate-looking glass bottle on the table between them.

"What is it?" Hannah asked, her frown deepening.

With a shrug, Romilda slid the bottle closer to Hannah. "Just a wit-sharpening potion."

At Hannah's sceptical expression, she continued. "I have sixteen inches on Ministry Regulations due for Umbridge tomorrow."

The bottle had worked its way between Hannah's fingers somehow, and she fingered the cork thoughtfully. The potion looked fairly innocuous; at least, much less sinister than the wit-sharpening potion Hannah had once produced when she'd had Zacharias as a Potions partner. But this sort of thing was definitely against Hogwarts rules and really, she should report this girl immediately. She was a prefect, after all.

"Tastes like Butterbeer," Romilda sighed dreamily.

The cork slid out easily enough, rolling across Hannah's textbook to Romilda. Something about Romilda's expression stopped her there, and she was suddenly unable to stop thinking of what Ernie would say if she took a potion from a relatively strange Gryffindor, of how disappointed Professor Sprout would be if she found Hannah breaking the rules instead of enforcing them. She cleared her throat and adjusted her Prefect badge before setting the bottle down.

The bottle, however, had been lingering awfully close to her nose by this point, and Hannah was starting to feel light-headed from the aroma alone. “I think I’d better pass,” she said, sliding the bottle apologetically back to Romilda and trying to shake the woozy feeling.

Romilda frowned, re-corked the bottle, and shoved her chair away from the table. “Fine then. Good luck with your OWLs,” she said nastily before turning and strutting away, bottle in hand.

Hannah felt somewhat relieved, though now a nagging sense that she’d acted rudely tugged at her conscience. She’d find that girl – Romilda – tomorrow and apologise.


As it turns out, Romilda the Gryffindor wasn’t the easiest girl to track down. Hannah caught Ginny Weasley at lunch, who sourly suggested she speak to Vicky Frobisher, who sent her after Demzela Robins, who said she hadn’t seen Romilda all day, but thought that she might have gone out to the Quidditch pitch after class, for Gryffindor’s Friday practise.

And luckily, it seemed, Demzela knew Romilda well, for that’s where Hannah found her, situated comfortably in otherwise empty stands, clutching a pair of discoloured Omnioculars and wrapped in a Gryffindor quilt. Romilda didn’t look away from the field even as Hannah approached.

“How did your essay go?” Hannah asked brightly, taking a seat next to Romilda and hoping the other girl wasn’t still upset. She wasn’t sure Romilda had heard her, for she continued watching the pitch without responding. Just as Hannah was preparing to repeat herself, Romilda closed her Omnioculars and turned to Hannah, smiling easily at her.

“Fine, thanks. And how was your revising?”

Hannah grinned sheepishly, answered that it was fine, and glanced back at the pitch. Harry Potter was hovering somewhere above and opposite them, occasionally swiping a hand across his forehead.

“He’s great, isn’t he? I got these from him.”

Hannah looked back at Romilda curiously, and saw that she was gesturing with the discoloured Omnioculars.
“Oh?”

Hannah didn’t know much about Harry, but from what she’d learnt of him in DA meetings that year, she was surprised that he’d give something that expensive away to a girl he didn’t seem to know.

Romilda smiled, though Hannah noted the uneasy glance she shot Harry before she pocketed them. “Are you here to watch practise too?”

Before Hannah could muster an answer, Romilda stood, pulling her up by the elbow. “Didn’t think so.”

Hannah wasn’t sure what it was Romilda thought she was there for, but she thought it would be awfully presumptuous of her to assume that it was to apologise. “I… just thought that I might have been a little rude yesterday,” Hannah managed, as Romilda half-shoved, half-pulled her down the stairs of the stands.

Romilda didn’t respond until they’d reached the safety of the ground, and she linked arms with Hannnah, glancing around them conspiratorially. “Changed your mind about the potion then?” she asked quietly.

“Oh… I er…” Hannah wasn’t sure how exactly she could turn down the potion a second time without being considered even more rude, though she still had a bit of nagging doubt in the back of her mind. She really ought to confiscate the potion and turn Romilda in.

Romilda eyed her expectantly, and it occurred to Hannah how odd it was to be standing beneath the Quidditch stands, arms linked with a strange Gryffindor girl.

“Well, I’m not sure I need it now,” she said finally, trying her best to look apologetic. “Wouldn’t want to take any from you, if you need it.”

Romilda furrowed her brow, and Hannah realised instantly that she’d said something very wrong. “You think I need a wit-sharpening potion? Do you think I’m dumb?”

Hannah opened her mouth in surprise -- oh no, she hadn’t meant to imply that at all – and watched as Romilda pulled out the same tiny bottle from a pocket of her robes, uncorking it angrily and eyeing the liquid inside. Her arm was still linked with Hannah’s, though she seemed to be pretending Hannah wasn’t there anymore.

“No, um, Romilda, that’s not what I meant at all. You seem very bright, actually.”

Romilda continued studying the bottle in stony silence. Finally, with a sigh, she turned to Hannah, bottle still clutched in her fingers. “Will you try some with me? I really need this if I’m going to get some of my work done this weekend. McGonagall has gone off the deep end with essays.”

This was not what Hannah had in mind at all for her Friday afternoon, but something about Romilda’s stare was rather intimidating. “Maybe just a bit,” she conceded, considering the bottle dubiously.

Romilda grinned and handed her the bottle, and the wooziness she remembered from the library hit Hannah before she even tasted the potion. She glanced at Romilda nervously as she pressed it to her lips and closed her eyes as she tilted it back, letting the liquid wash over her tongue and slide down her throat. She expected it to taste awful, like ginger and armadillo bile, but it was surprisingly tasty.

She actually wanted to polish off the bottle once she’d started, but Romilda pried it gently from her fingers, careful not to spill any as she took it from Hannah, looking back and forth between Hannah and the bottle with wonder and something akin to awe. It occurred to Hannah, somewhere in the back of her mind, that Romilda hadn’t given her anything remotely similar to wit-sharpening potion, but at the moment all she could focus on was the way Romilda’s hair fell in dark curls around her face, and the way her eyes shined as she looked up at Hannah, alight with excitement. Her chin was wonderfully pointy – Hannah couldn’t stop staring at the angle it made, and the way it made her face almost heart-shaped.

“You’re beautiful,” Hannah found herself saying, as Romilda glanced up at her. She immediately blushed, feeling silly for admitting such a thing, but Romilda only grinned in response, tossing her hair over her shoulder and turning her face so that Hannah could get a good view of her profile.

“Really? How do I look from this side?”

Hannah didn’t think that Romilda could have a bad side, and she told her so as she watched the other girl pose. She seemed delighted at Hannah’s assessment, and Hannah didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone look more beautiful. Romilda’s smile? Well, it was just breathtaking.

Romilda toyed with Hannah’s pigtails thoughtfully, grinning at her, and Hannah’s heart seemed to catch in her throat. She wanted so badly to kiss her, just to see if she tasted anything like the potion – Hannah was sure that she would – and just to see how that beautiful smile would feel against her mouth.

It was too much for Hannah, and she did kiss her in the next moment, leaning forward and pressing her lips against Romilda’s. Hannah had never really done anything like this, other than a friendly peck on Ernie’s cheek one Christmas, and she was just starting to worry that she’d done it wrong, that Romilda would hate her, when the younger girl kissed her back.

Romilda’s lips didn’t taste much like the potion – in Hannah’s opinion, they tasted better than the potion, if such a thing was possible, and then Romilda worked her mouth open, sliding her tongue into Hannah’s mouth, and gripping hold of her pigtails.

Hannah couldn’t believe Romilda’s talent! Not only was she absolutely breathtaking, but she knew exactly how to kiss, just like Hannah had read about. She never thought someone else’s tongue could feel so good against hers, and she couldn’t get enough of it.

Just when she felt like she was starting to get a handle on this kissing thing, Romilda bumped up against her, and Hannah felt her feet go out from under her. They fell together, Romilda landing heavily on top of her, and Hannah feeling like the wind had been knocked out of her. She tried to say as much to Romilda, but she only kissed her some more, and Hannah felt her tugging on the clasps of her robes. She wanted very much for her to work them open, and she managed a somewhat muffled moan into Romilda’s mouth at the idea.

Romilda sat back, straddling Hannah, and tugged her own robes over her head.

“I don’t usually like blondes, you know,” she said casually, though Hannah could only really focus on the movement of her lips, and not the words coming out of them. “But I’ve always thought it would be hot to do a Prefect.”

Something about that word reverberated through Hannah, and she felt suddenly, horribly, conflicted. She shouldn’t be here; she had things she should be doing. She had to study for OWLs, and she should be patrolling, and maybe turning this girl in, but oh, Romilda. Hannah wanted to spend the rest of her life out here, rolling around in the grass and kissing Romilda Vane. She wanted very much to renounce it all, to swear the whole Prefect thing off, to run away from Hogwarts, if it meant she could have Romilda all to herself, all the time.

But then the worry set in again, and Hannah knew, hazily, that she should be somewhere else. Romilda was kissing her again, but this time she was kissing her way down Hannah’s neck, and her fingers had managed to get the clasps of Hannah’s robes open. She felt Romilda’s fingers working their way under her blouse and she gasped as one hand slid down, between her legs, and snuck up under her skirt.

Hannah tensed immediately, and shut her eyes against the woozy, fuzzy feeling that seemed to have washed over her. All she could think about presently was the work she had to do, and what she shouldn’t be doing out here in the grass, with Romilda Vane.

Romilda’s fingers pressed cautiously against Hannah’s knickers and she nearly jumped, clutching frantically to Romilda’s arms and biting down hard on her lower lip to keep from making a noise. Romilda…. Romilda… Romilda.

It took her a moment to realise that she’d been saying her name aloud, and the mortification was almost enough to make her want to take it back. But Romilda kissed her then, and Hannah couldn’t deny how amazing this felt. She wanted to love Romilda, wanted to worship her every move, to kiss her anywhere – everywhere – and never let go – but why?

Romilda shoved her knickers aside then, and Hannah lost track of the problem she was trying to work out at the feel of Romilda’s fingers against her. The warm, woozy, fuzzy feeling was fading, but she was starting to feel something else entirely now that Romilda was grinding her fingers against her, pressing and rubbing and sliding them inside of her knickers. Her mouth was warm and wet against Hannah's neck, and Romilda's free hand had slipped under her blouse completely; fingers, nails and palm brushing eagerly against her breast.

She was losing control – she knew she couldn’t hold on anymore, that she was close to something incredible, and that Romilda Vane was responsible. And that’s when it happened – Romilda shoved one long, slender finger inside of her, pressing it against her from the inside as she brushed her with her thumb from the outside, her mouth hovering over the dip above Hannah’s collarbone and her other hand desperately clutching at Hannah’s breast. Hannah felt like she was exploding with the wooziness and heat and desperation, and then she was shaking and clenching and gripping Romilda’s arms, her eyes shut tight as realisation and orgasm washed over her.

Romilda pressed her lips against Hannah’s once more as she extracted her hand from Hannah’s knickers, whispering something about the Prefect’s bathroom after curfew as she sat up and gathered her things, sucking her fingers clean as if she'd just gotten something sweet all over them.

Hannah pulled her robes tight around herself, her knees drawn up resolutely as she watched Romilda walk back across the lawn, towards the castle. She was starting to understand, now, and it occurred to her that she ought to go see Madame Pomfrey. She understood what Romilda Vane had done to her, though she was beginning to think she hadn’t done it very well. She was sure the potion had worn off now. Hannah decided it must have been quite weak.

Something glinted in the corner of her eye, and she turned to find that Romilda had left behind her delicate little glass bottle, half empty and hidden in the grass.

With a sigh, she gathered herself together and stood, pocketing the bottle and tugging her pigtails into order. Hannah Abbott wasn’t normally one for revenge, but something about the idea of Romilda -- gorgeous dark eyes and long dark hair -- panting after her and her alone... Hannah couldn't pass up the chance to give the potion directly back to her. The thought of seeing Romilda tonight, of making her want Hannah and Hannah alone, was intoxicating.

And after all, it was only temporary.
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