STORY SET | HARRY POTTER/WEDNESDAY

The Witches Cup

Featuring: Hermione Granger (18+) & Wednesday Addams (18+)

The Grand Hall was cavernous, echoing, the walls seeming to stretch upwards forever. Hermione stood at its heart, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her robes, the silence around her loud and expectant. A little ways back, a throng of students huddled together, their faces a sea of eager anticipation.

They wore Gryffindor scarves and badges emblazoned with Hermione's name, their cheers and whispered encouragements a distant hum, like the beating of a hundred nervous hearts. She could feel the weight of their hope pressing upon her, and beneath it, a flicker of doubt gnawed at her confidence. Who would dare challenge her this year?

The smell of wax and parchment filled the air, mingling with the faint chill that seemed to seep from the stone floor. She glanced at the great oak doors across the hall, her gaze sharp and unblinking. Any moment now, they would swing open, and she would know. Her mind spun with possibilities, each more aggravating than the last.

The hinges creaked, and the doors parted with a slow, heavy groan. She stiffened, her breath catching, as a mass of students poured through, the clamor of their arrival a stark contrast to the tense quiet that had preceded it.

They huddled together, a chattering crowd from all the other houses. She searched their ranks, scanning for some clue, some sign of who had dared to oppose her. Was it Cho Chang again? Her thoughts tumbled over one another in anxious succession. Maybe that insufferable upstart from Slytherin, Daphne—

She gasped, a sharp intake of breath that left her momentarily drained of all others.

There she was, emerging from the throng with infuriating calm. A perfectly grey version of the Gryffindor uniform clung to her slim figure, transforming the vibrant colors into a mockery.

Wednesday Addams.

She moved forward, wand in hand, her face an inscrutable mask, devoid of even the slightest flicker of emotion. Hermione's heart pounded, a dull roar in her ears. How could she?

The betrayal was a bitter taste on her tongue, more galling than any potion gone wrong. She had taken the exchange student from Nevermore under her wing, taught her with infinite patience over the last few months, only for this? Hot, raw fury burned behind her eyes, and she blinked hard, trying to quell it. This only further fueled her other suspicions - that Wednesday was competing also for Harry’s affections.

Hermione’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, a storm of anger brewing within them. Wednesday paused a few paces away, just outside the dueling arena, and allowed herself the slightest hint of a smirk. She lifted her wand, readying it for the duel, her movements deliberate, almost lazy. The others crowded close, the room a tense, loaded silence.

Wed is ready...

“Traitor,” Hermione hissed under her breath, her voice a taut line of disbelief and rage. She felt the heat of a hundred stares, the anticipation of the crowd a living, breathing thing around her. Her hand tightened around her wand, and she steadied her stance.

"You little traitor,” she said with a clear, cutting voice. “Take this... Stupify!" A green light shot from her wand, streaking across the space between them.

Hermione at the ready

Stupify!

Wednesday barely flinched, knocking the spell away with a flick of her own wand, sending it spiraling into the wall, harmless.

"That's the best you can do? How pathetic." She quipped, her voice smooth and even. "Ignie sphera!"

Ignie Sphera!

Hermione barely had time to step back, shocked at Wednesday's choice of a fireball spell. It was both incredibly advanced and incredibly dangerous. Quickly, she whispered the words of the fire charm to protect her body from the flames, as the fire engulfed her.

As the inferno dissipated, the fire charm had indeed protected her and her clothing, but the force of the blast had blown apart her uniform, fully exposing her breasts for everyone to see.

Too livid to even care, Hermione blurted out, "How dare you, you double-crossing cunt. Exvestio!" And then very quietly, she whispered a spell she’d learned from Harry from the Codex of Corruption, "Facialus."

The top of Wednesday's uniform disappeared, and a throbbing cock appeared near her face. She regarded it coolly as it began to ejaculate thick whitish cum onto her face and breasts, pumping cumshot after cumshot until she was dripping with semen.

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The onlookers gasped, a collective intake of breath that filled the hall like the roar of a crowd at some obscene spectacle.

Wednesday stood impassive, the white streaks marring her otherwise perfect calm, as if this were merely an expected outcome. Her stillness was unnerving, a sharp contrast to the chaos erupting around them. She wiped some cum from her cheek with the back of her hand and gazed at it with detached curiosity, as if studying an odd insect, before flicking it away with disdain.

The doors to the hall flew wide open. Headmistress McGonagall swept in, her expression severe, her presence instantly commanding the attention of everyone in the room. She surveyed the scene with a sharp, appraising glance, her lips a thin, disapproving line.

"That is quite enough, young ladies," she said, her voice cutting through the noise with effortless authority. "You should be ashamed of yourselves, carrying on like this. Vestio Reddo!"

With a quick flick of her wand, their clothes flew back onto them, restoring their modesty. McGonagall’s eyes lingered a moment on Wednesday's cum-streaked face, an eyebrow arching in skeptical reproach.

"I should hope that is not a forbidden spell, Ms. Granger," she continued, the warning clear in her tone. "Careful now. It would be a pity to be disqualified from the Witches Cup before it has even properly begun."

The Headmistress turned her attention to the gathered students, her expression softening only slightly. "I see that some of you are participating in the frowned upon tradition of the unofficial contest before the Cup. Disperse immediately, or I shall be forced to inform your Heads of House."

As the crowd began to shuffle out, she stepped closer to the two girls, her voice dropping to a low, urgent whisper. "Be careful," she warned, her eyes sharp and knowing. "Not just of the rules, but of letting it get too personal. The Cup’s challenges may require not just brilliance and magic, but cooperation as well, if you're both to survive them."

* * *

THE FIRST CHALLENGE

The light was dim, the room a cavernous circle of stone walls that loomed with cold indifference. Hermione entered from one side, Wednesday from the other, their footsteps echoing eerily in the hollow space. At the center, atop an eight-foot pedestal, a golden egg gleamed with deceptive tranquility.

As if sensing their presence, a low growl reverberated through the air. The cockatrice unfurled itself from around the egg, its scales reflecting in sickly hues of green and purple, eyes sharp as razors. Hermione froze, recognizing the deadly creature from her studies. Its gaze alone could turn them to stone.

Wed hesitated, and Hermione smirked, feeling a rush of confidence. She was closer, she had the advantage. She moved quickly, her mind racing through strategies. She could outwit this beast easily enough.

A low hiss echoed, and the cockatrice unfurled, its gaze sweeping the room. Hermione dove behind a pillar, barely avoiding the deadly stare. Across the expanse, she saw Wednesday slide behind a large stone slab, her movements fluid and unhurried, as if she had all the time in the world.

Hermione’s mind was a whirl of spells and tactics. She risked a glance and shouted, "Periculum Obscura!" A flash of light, and the room filled with a burst of dense smoke. She heard a low, angry squawk, and the cockatrice’s wings beat against the air, dissipating some of the haze. She had to be cleverer, faster.

Across the room, Wednesday’s voice was calm, almost bored. "Mobilus," she incanted, and Hermione watched in disbelief as the stone slab shifted, moving to form a barrier between Wednesday and the creature.

Hermione gritted her teeth, frustration simmering. She needed something to shield her from its gaze. She spotted a dull glint in the corner—an old, dusty mirror. Perfect. She pointed her wand, whispered the levitation charm, and sent the mirror floating toward the cockatrice. It reflected the beast’s own deadly stare, and for a moment, it faltered, its movements sluggish.

Wednesday saw the opening. "Glacius," she whispered, freezing the ground beneath the cockatrice. It struggled to keep its footing, and she darted from behind her cover, sprinting for the pedestal.

Hermione cursed under her breath and followed suit, both of them racing for the prize. The cockatrice shook off its stupor, its eyes locking onto them, fury in every feathered inch. It lunged, snapping at their heels as they reached the base of the pedestal.

They were too slow. Hermione skidded to a halt, panic rising. "We have to work together!" she shouted, the words bitter in her mouth.

Wednesday paused, considered, then nodded curtly. "Distract it," she said.

Hermione sent a volley of sparks and light towards the creature, each one more dazzling than the last. The cockatrice flared its wings, momentarily blinded.

Wednesday seized the opportunity. "Ascendio!" she cried, and the two of them shot upwards, landing atop the pedestal.

The egg was warm, pulsing with magic.

There was only room for one of them to reach it. An awkward moment passed, heavy with the remnants of their forced cooperation. Hermione hesitated, her fingers inches from the egg. She caught Wednesday’s eye, a flicker of understanding passing between them.

“Sorry,” Wednesday said, the word devoid of sincerity. She gave Hermione a sharp shove, knocking her off balance.

“Hey!” Hermione cried, steadying herself just in time to see Wednesday grab the egg.

As she did, the pedestal crumbled beneath them, the floor opening into a dark maw. They plunged, the air a howl around them. Hermione’s wand moved with precise speed, her voice a calm command. "Arresto Momentum!"

Their fall slowed, and they hovered on the brink of the abyss. But then the cockatrice screeched, diving towards them with murderous intent.

Hermione teetered on the edge, trapped between the beast and the dark hole in the ground. Wednesday’s eyes were cool. "You’ll thank me later," she said, and shoved Hermione into the shaft.

Hermione fell, a scream of fury and terror echoing behind her.

Wednesday launched herself into the void just as the beast struck where she’d been.

The fall was a blur, a rush of panic and wind. They landed with a wet, viscous squelch, the impact knocking the breath from Hermione's lungs. She lay stunned, her mind reeling, the world a dizzying spin of black and grey.

The smell hit them first, thick and pungent, like earth and rot. Hermione struggled to sit up, the surface beneath her sticky and yielding. Across the pit, she saw Wednesday, the egg held tightly in her grasp, her expression unreadable.

Silence stretched, deep and ominous. Then, slowly, the black tendrils of Devil’s Snare began to stir, creeping towards them. They wrapped around Hermione's ankles, her wrists, binding her to the spot. She fought against them, but the more she struggled, the tighter they constricted.

"Wednesday!" she gasped, her voice choked with urgency.

Wednesday watched, still and composed, until her own limbs were tangled in the writhing mass. The snare tightened, squeezing the breath from her lungs, the egg slipping from her grasp. It sank into the dark tangle of vines, disappearing from view.

Hermione thrashed, trying to free herself, but the tendrils only pulled tighter, pinning her to the ground. Panic threatened to overwhelm her. It was supposed to be easy, this first challenge; now she was trapped, helpless, the weight of failure pressing down on her like a physical thing.

She forced herself to breathe, to think. The snare's grip was merciless, but she knew its weakness.

"Don't move," she shouted, hoping Wednesday could hear her. "It thrives on panic!"

The snare slackened its grip as they both calmed themselves, the vines easing enough to let them breathe.

Hermione waited for them to drop through, but instead, she felt a tickling sensation creeping up her skirt, into her shirt. Panic flared again as the tendrils yanked down her panties and skirt, ripping apart her top in one swift motion, leaving her utterly exposed. She glanced at Wednesday and saw the same was happening to her, the girl eerily unruffled despite her nakedness.

The more Hermione struggled, the tighter the snare squeezed. Two thick vines slipped slowly into her, one pushing wetly into her pussy, the other into her anus, and her body jerked at the sudden, invasive sensation. The vines fucked her with a relentless, rhythmic insistence, and she felt a rush of horror mingled with maddening pleasure as the snare released some strange hormone. It overwhelmed her senses, her mind torn between disgust and an unbearable, aching need.

"You're the lucky one," Wednesday said from across the pit, her voice maddeningly calm. "You’ve got one up the ass too. I’ve just got it in my pussy," her words punctuated by breathless moans.

Hermione thrashed, her panic feeding the snare's fervor, the vines fucking her faster, her body awash with conflicting sensations. A thick tentacle hovered above her, the tip swelling ominously. It exploded with a massive spray of thick, whitish slime that splattered her face and breasts, the force of it jarring.

A good tentacle fuck

Tentacle DP!

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"Wednesday!" she screamed, the word a frantic plea.

"Just enjoy it!" Wednesday's voice was distant, echoing, as she dropped through the loosened tangle of vines.

The tentacle released another slimy torrent, the sheer volume of it staggering. She gasped, the taste acrid and salty on her lips. The vines fucked her harder, the pleasure cresting into something monstrous, overwhelming. Her vision blurred, and she felt herself slipping, the world narrowing to the slick, writhing mass of tentacles and the all-consuming, pulsing waves of sensation.

Then, suddenly, the snare's grip slackened, and she was falling again, the pit yawning wide to swallow her. The relief was dizzying, a rush of air and freedom. She hit the ground with a jarring thud, the impact knocking her breathless once more.

She lay there, stunned, the cool stone beneath her a stark contrast to the fevered heat of her skin. The world spun, and she struggled to make sense of it, her body trembling, her mind a chaotic jumble of shock and lingering, unwanted pleasure.

Wednesday was already standing, the egg still miraculously clutched in her arms. Her expression was calm, almost serene, as if the ordeal had barely touched her.

Hermione staggered to her feet, wrapping her arms around her nakedness, her cheeks flushed with anger and humiliation. "You pushed me into the pit!" she accused, her voice shaky, raw.

Wednesday looked at her coolly, “I saved you. And got you a good tentacle fuck as a bonus. Like I said, you can thank me later.”

Hermione lunged, her fury propelling her towards Wednesday. She was ready to tackle her, to wrestle the egg from her smug, insufferable grip, when the thick wooden door flew open with a thunderous crash.

Headmistress McGonagall strode in, her robes billowing, her expression a mixture of anger and urgency. She took in the scene with a sweeping glance, her lips pressing into a stern, disapproving line.

"Miss Granger! Miss Addams!" Her voice was sharp, demanding their immediate attention. "Must I always find you in such a state of undress? Vestio Reddo!"

A flick of her wand, and their clothes snapped back onto their bodies, the sudden modesty almost more shocking than the nudity had been.

"This is becoming habit-forming," she quipped, her tone dry and unimpressed.

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, to explain, but McGonagall silenced her with a raised hand. "There has been sabotage," she said, her voice low and severe. "Someone has tampered with the challenge. No ordinary Devil’s Snare would behave in such a manner."

Hermione's eyes shot to Wednesday, a glare of accusation burning in them. But McGonagall shook her head, dismissing the suspicion without a word.

The Headmistress stepped forward, raising Wednesday's hand in the air, the golden egg gleaming in the dim light. "Miss Addams," she declared, "winner of the first challenge."

Hermione’s heart sank, the sting of defeat and betrayal a sharp, bitter ache. The Headmistress turned her shrewd gaze on Hermione, lines of worry creasing her brow. "Be careful," she cautioned, her voice softening with concern. "This is more dangerous than it seems. Do not let your guard down. Especially with the very… unusual challenge, yet to come…"

And with that cryptic remark, she turned on her heel and swept out of the room, leaving the door open for a small crowd of students to enter to congratulate the girls on surviving the first challenge.

* * *