Goodbye, Miss Granger - Part 2 - Sex Stories

Goodbye, Miss Granger - Part 2

... looked serious for a moment. “And I don’t mean that in a nasty way. It doesn’t mean they’re ugly, just socially awkward. Like you!” I don’t think she intended that as an insult, but it stung a little anyway, mostly because it was true. “Three: HAGS is the Hermione Granger Appreciation Society …” “The WHAT?” My heart froze. Even in the presence of my most trusted friend, someone who would never knowingly hurt me, I still felt a bolt of fear at the mention of that name out loud. “I know, right?” she said. “It doesn’t make sense. I don’t think they’re really dyslexic; they just wanted to make a word out of it.” “But why would I want to go to the Hermione Granger Appreciation Society?” I hoped my voice didn’t sound as cold as it felt. I sensed only good intentions in her and she didn’t deserve the frosty glare that was probably on my face. “Really?” she looked confused. “Well, firstly: seven pristine Harry Potter First Editions on your bookshelf. And second – you might not realise this – but you kind of look like her.” “Don’t be silly,” I waved her away, but a chill was stiffening the hairs on the back of my neck. “I’m serious,” she said, fiddling with her phone. “I didn’t see it at first either, but Andrew and I went to see Deathly Hallows Part One and he pointed it out when she came out in this gorgeous red dress. Here: look!” She turned her phone around. I didn’t need to look; I knew exactly what it was: Emma Watson, all grown up now (well, eighteen or nineteen) and utterly ...

... beautiful in a scoop neck, knee-length red dress. I went to see the movie on my own and was completely enchanted; she looked like a princess, not a witch, and for a couple of hours I sank back into that old magic and lived the adventure with her. “Mmm. Maybe,” I frowned. “Mmm. Definitely!” she nodded. She held up the phone beside my face. “Actually it’s closer than I thought; just pin back your hair and pack your boobs into a tight bodice and you’re HER!” “Don’t be ridiculous!” I waved off the hand holding the phone. “She’s beautiful.” “Are you fishing for compliments, Jeannie?” she teased. “You’re not going to give up on this, are you?” I sighed. “Nope,” she smiled. “Because I’m right.” “Okay,” I said quietly. “You’re not the first to point it out.” And then getting back on topic: “So you want me to wear that dress so you can hook me up with undergrad boys. Why would undergrad boys want to hook up with me?” “Do you want me to get the phone out again?” she glared at me, but there was love in there too. “The HAGS sign-up desk has a life-sized cardboard Hermione in that dress! That’s what gave me the idea. They’re already in love with you!” “Okay, point taken,” I conceded. “You think I’m geek catnip.” I rephrased: “Why would I want to hook up with undergrad boys?” “Because you haven’t had a date in the almost eighteen months I’ve known you,” she lectured. “And geek boys are like training wheels; you say ‘Hi, my name’s Jeannie,’ and if he doesn’t faint, you tell him how much you ...