The room of requirement is kind. The bed it has provided for her is narrow with plenty of pillows for her to sink into, a small space just for her. Deek has long since retired to his quarters in the kitchens leaving her alone with her thoughts as she lays idle in the dark room. She's not going back to the Hufflepuff common room anytime soon and the reason is the terrible sensation of...Everything.
She should be used to it by now but every month without fail she experiences a handful of days of hypersensitivity. "Hormones" the nurse had explained to her younger when she'd visited fearing she was terribly ill and the memory of having something so simple explained to her in simple words is enough to bring the embarrassment she felt in the moment rushing back. With a sigh she shifts her position, now laying on her back facing the ceiling. Her nightgown clings to her uncomfortably, the fabric rubbing against her nipples and she huffs, hands idly resting over her stomach. Aching breasts, high body temperature. An uncomfortable desire ever present in her cunt. She has heard the other girls claim boys instinctively know when a woman is at the height of fertility every month and she scoffs at the notion. How very silly.
What if it's true? She allows her hands to roam down her body, underneath the fabric of her nightgown and she tells herself she's only trying to feel less stuffy and uncomfortable as she pulls it over her neck and removes it. This is the worst part about her condition: the constant roaming thoughts ever present be it in class or at dinner...When she's alone at night they consume her. Her hands rub circles into the soft skin of her breasts that match the instinctive circular motion her hips have fallen into. Right now her body is ready for a man to...Her breath hitches, thought immediately zeroing in on the object of her confused affection. If she was in her right mind she'd never let herself linger on it but right now conscience has no say in the matter.
She rubs her core through her underwear for a brief moment but decides removing them so they don't stain with her need is wiser. Her cheeks are so warm she feels like she's sat infront of a fireplace but it's nothing compared to the sheer heat her palm feels as her hand rests against her cunt. She runs it up and down, feeling her soft trimmed pubes while instinct takes over. How would it feel? It's supposed to hurt she knows that. Her fingers dip into her folds and the wet squelch of her arousal rings in her ears. He's so tall compared to her. Would he be too big for her? Would he care? She brings her now wet hand to her clit and, a single finger easily rubbing the hard little nub.
Her other hand rests at her opening, two fingers circling the sensitive opening as her hips buck into it, movements becoming increasingly frenzied as a terrible needy sensation fills her. "Please." She half whispers, half moans into the dark. "Please, please." A whimper catches in her throat, imagining his hands on her. Him filling the unfamiliar urge that has taken over her mind in this moment. I want him to fuck me she admits to herself and in the same moment her cunt clenches around nothing with such force her toes curl and her torso rises from the bed and a single breathy gasp fills the empty room. She lays there like that for a while, chest heaving while her mind settles back into a semblance of normality and shame washes over her. How filthy.
She settles back into her bed after washing herself clean, now terribly exhausted and able to drift off to sleep. He's probably still asleep she thinks to herself and allows herself to imagine how his features would look when resting...Her bed trembles and she sits up with a yelp, looking around to understand what has happened and when she does the embarrassment she feels is almost comedic. The room has responded to her desire by expanding her resting place into a double bed with plenty of legroom.