The curse of Hermione Watson (part 1)
The rain lashed angrily against Emma’s Mercedes, pinging against the bonnet and windscreen as she struggled to see the dark road ahead of her. She slowed and turned right, obeying her sat-nav. Her headlights briefly lit up a pair of towering black metal gates and a weather-beaten sign that read “Dunswick Hall”.
“Yup, this is the place,” she said to herself.
Beth, her PR had messaged her a few days ago with the details. A low budget horror movie with a talented but little known director and unknown cast. Work had dried up and she was willing to try out new projects in a never-ending attempt to shrug off what she called the “curse of Hermione”.
The large rectangular building loomed closer in the glum, murky night as her car trundled slowly down the dirt track. She nearly shit herself when a bull suddenly appeared in the field beside her. She felt uneasy and on edge and really needed to pee. She’d read up on the shooting location. Apparently it had been used for a number of horror movies due to its eerie atmosphere and bleak surroundings. There was only the dull sound of the wind outside as she parked up outside the four storey mansion. A short row of gnarly, bare trees with branches like old, spindly fingers lined the front of the house. Emma paused, wondering where everyone else was and looking around for an entrance. Maybe the small cast and crew had been dropped off earlier. An old lamp hung precariously over a recess at the centre of the building, dimly lighting a large door. She pushed the car door open but it was buffeted back by a gust of wind as if she was being told she was an unwanted guest here. A harder shove opened it wide and after jumping out she slammed it behind her and ran to the house entrance. She rapped hard on the door in order to be heard, a little too hard, hurting her knuckles on the flaky, worn wood. Just as she raised her hand to knock again a bolt clunked and the thick, weighty door creaked open. Emma stepped inside quickly to escape the wind and rain and was immediately almost face to face with a wizened old man holding a lantern.
“You’re late Miss Granger. Your room is on the second floor, fourth door on the right,” the old man said gruffly.
He looked uncannily like David Bradley, the actor who played Argus Filch, the caretaker in the Harry Potter movies but if so he would have greeted her much more warmly.
“Where’s …..?”
Emma’s voice trailed off as the man had already turned from her and was headed down a dark corridor. She watched the dim light from his lantern quickly disappear along with the thud of a door. For a moment she considered going after him but the corridor was now pitch black.
“Thanks,” she said sarcastically. “And I’m not Hermione!” she whispered sternly as she turned and walked towards the grand stairway.
All was silent again but for the low howl of the wind outside and the sound of the tips of the bare tree branches scraping against the large stained-glass window that lit the next level of the staircase.
Emma began to climb the stairs, looking cautiously all around her. Behind her nothing but dark corners and crevices that the light didn’t pierce. Above her at least a little light from windows with brief glimpses of the moon as it appeared now and again between the briskly blown heavy rain clouds. The stairway doubled back on itself up to the first floor. She didn’t hesitate to look around and hurriedly headed up to the second floor, eager for the security and sanctuary of a room, a bath and a bed. Once on the second floor she fumbled along the wall feeling for a light switch but felt only wooden panels. She walked past the doors, counting them in her head and listening for the voices of her fellow actors but there was no noise or light from any of them. She arrived at the fourth door and cautiously reached for the circular knob, slowly turning it and pushing the door ajar. All of a sudden she froze. She was sure she heard a brief guttural grunt from further down the corridor. She stared intently into the darkness looking for any movement whilst trying to ignore her pounding heart.
“Hello….?” she said in a trembling voice.
Her ears strained to hear the tiniest of noises above the wind and rain. The corridor continued for ten metres or so beyond her door. A window at the very end lit hardly any of it. After a last look, Emma slipped quickly inside her room and locked the door pausing momentarily behind it listening again for anything, but all she could hear was her rapid breathing gradually slowing back to normality.
The room was basic. A large double bed with a set of drawers and large mirror opposite it. In the bathroom a deep off-white bathtub and ancient looking shower overhead. She threw her small bag into the corner of the room and peeled off her damp clothes before entering the bathroom and stepping under the shower. The taps squeaked in resistance before the shower sprung to life, bathing her body in a surprisingly powerful gush of hot water. Feeling vulnerable and wary in her eerie new surroundings, Emma cautiously lathered her nubile figure whilst listening attentively for any more sounds and keeping one eye firmly on the bathroom door.
A bank of steamy air escaped from the bathroom as Emma opened the door and went back into the much cooler bedroom. She sat on the bed and padded her hair dry with a towel whilst looking at her reflection in the mirror. The hot shower had left her feeling dreary and the dimly lit room didn’t help. She swung her legs up onto the bed and sat back against the headboard with a couple of pillows for support. Gazing once again into the mirror at the foot of the bed her vision became blurry and she felt herself go into an almost sleep-like trance. As the stared at her reflection her face began to look more like that of Hermione’s than her own. Younger, fresher, more innocent but with a hint of defiance in her eyes. As much as she found Hermione a burden, she also adored her, maybe even envied her. Emma’s gaze wandered down from her reflected face to her body. A large white towel clung to her from the top of her breasts down to her knees. Experience had taught her to keep her legs together at all times to deny the pervy paparazzi their prized picture but there were no paparazzi here now. A deliciously filthy feeling came over Emma as she slid her feet up the bed towards her. Her knees rose up and she began to ever so slowly open her legs. Little by little her neatly trimmed pussy came into view with the lips glistening, still slightly wet from the shower. She reached her hand down between her thighs and delicately ran the tip of her index finger up her moist slit. Trembling at the touch, she felt her nipples harden with excitement and so repeated the movement as if trying to slowly coax an orgasm from herself. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, inhaling deeply in an effort to control herself. Her pussy yearned for the finger to be delved deep inside, but she resisted and continued to toy around the edge of her pussy lips and blossoming clit. Her other hand grabbed at her towel and yanked it away from her body, tossing it onto the floor revealing her taut stomach and firm breasts to the emptiness of the room. She slid her left hand up her belly and then onto her left breast whilst continuing to tease her labia and clit with her other hand. She had always loved any sense of touch on her tits and as she stroked around her nipple she could already feel an orgasm swelling up within her. Her large, firm, pink nipples throbbed and pointed to the ceiling. Massaging her left one between her fingers, Emma arched her back and thrust her pelvis forward, forcing her finger to glide into her nectar filled pussy. She let out a moan and began thrusting in and out of her wetness, each stroke amplifying her pleasure. Suddenly, amidst her joy an image came into her head as if thrust there by an unknown force. Startled, Emma opened her eyes to find what she thought she had just imagined was actually right there before her. Hermione. Crouched naked above and astride Emma’s body with her hand stretched down and her finger sliding in and out of Emma’s pussy. Their eyes locked as they stared deeply into each others’ soul. Emma couldn’t look away as if under some kind of spell. Hermione slowly lowered her face towards Emma’s before delicately placing a soft kiss on her lips. As she did so, her slightly smaller breasts lightly brushed against Emma’s, causing their nipples to pleasurably rub against each other. Emma’s brain was shouting at her to stop but the pit of her stomach was now ravenous for this taste of the forbidden and she was powerless against her secluded desires. As if beyond her control she reached her left hand up and placed her palm over Hermione’s sweet warm pussy before tentatively sliding her middle finger into her tight, succulent hole. Hermione whelped with pleasure and after a few gentle strokes they were soon fingering each other faster and faster.
“Uuuuurrrrrrggghhhhh….”
Emma crashed out of her fantasy and immediately sat up on the bed stunned. She strained her ears. The low, gruff sound she just heard definitely wasn’t from her fantasy. She sat in silence, her heart pounding in the still of the room. Then suddenly a loud shuffling sound behind the wall a little further down the room accompanied by a small shaft of light briefly streaming through a hole in the wall she hadn’t noticed in the gloom.
“Fuck!” she exclaimed in a terrified voice.
Silence again. But she could sense someone in the other room, just at the other side of the wall. Her skin prickled with goosebumps. Another few seconds of silence and then…
“Bang!” against the wall.
“Bang!” against the wall again but a little closer this time.
Emma jumped out of her skin on the beat of each sound. Whatever was on the other side of the wall was heading to the door. And would then be just outside her door.
“Bang!” closer still and enough to make the room vibrate.
Emma’s head spun, desperately trying to clutch onto an idea of what to do next. Stay in the room and hope whatever it is can’t get in. Or run. Whatever it was, it sounded huge.
“Bang!” directly opposite her now and just metres from her door.
She jumped off the bed, grabbed her towel and leaped to the bedroom door.