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Parvati steadied her wand hand, grateful for the empty sixth year dormitory. The other girls were studying, or with friends, or with boys. She was preparing to cast the spell that would generate her double. She hadn’t doubted it was a real spell from the very start. Even if Hermione had not demonstrated, the other witch’s knowledge was impressive. But Hermione had demonstrated the spell, generating a perfect clone and gazing at herself with open admiration that made Parvati weak in the knees. Parvati had always known Hermione was pretty, but the two Hermiones together were beautiful like that. It made her hope that she might see herself as someone beautiful, might understand the sexuality everyone around her experienced.
Parvati’s sixth year was nothing like she expected. Over the summer, she simmered with anticipation for the opportunity to finally join Professors Trelawney and Firenze’s N.E.W.T. Divination course. Ever since third year, it had been her favorite course. Her Bengali great-grandmother Prateeti had been a genuine prophetess and practiced a number of divinatory arts, including jyotish astrology, snake divining, and Prashnavali bibliomancy. Learning Divination made her feel connected to her great-grandmother, and she hoped once she achieved her N.E.W.T. that she would feel confident enough to ask her family in India if she could practice with Prateeti’s instruments. She had expected Lavender to be just as excited to join her in N.E.W.T. Divination, but it seemed sometimes like Lavender’s enthusiasm was reserved for their handsome centaur professor more than the subject these days.
Since their first year at Hogwarts, Parvati and Lavender had been inseparable. They were the school’s gossip queens from the start, and knew everyone else’s relationships. Now, Lavender had her own, and Parvati had questions about relationships and sexuality. Her family was rather conservative, so she didn’t think she could come to Padma. After all, if their parents had kept knowledge about sexuality from her, how would her twin have it?
Lavender was her best friend, and the natural person to come to with these questions, but when she thought about asking Lavender, or worse, hearing about Lavender’s time with Ron, she felt queasy. Instead, she had asked Hermione about dating and relationships, reminding herself she had recently come of age as a witch, and that she was doing nothing wrong. Hermione had given her rather awkward explanations about boys and dating that felt like they came out of a book, and then conspiratorially pulled her in to offer her a special spell she had learned in her fourth year, that would create a temporary clone of herself, replifacio . Hermione blushed and stumbled through the short explanation she gave about the spell’s use, but Parvati understood the gist of it. The spell could give her experience without the awkwardness of a boy, or even a girl who wasn’t herself. Hermione had used it for that purpose, when she was trying to gain her own confidence with boys and dating, and she still used it sometimes. Parvati forcibly pulled herself from her wool-gathering. All of this was just procrastination: it was time to cast the spell. Her wand was still solid in her hand, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
Parvati checked that her curtains were locked and silenced, again, for one last moment of delay. She felt shy, vulnerable. Soon, she would lie before — herself. She had never even touched herself before like that. She tried again to prepare mentally to cast the spell, to conjure her double - to conjure … Pav. Determined, she swished her wand, crying out: “ Replifacio !”
Her double shimmered into existence before her. Pav beamed, her expression more confident than Parvati felt.
“Hello,” Pav waved, a teasing smile on her face.
Parvati resisted the urge to hide, feeling her cheeks heat. “Hi, Pav.”
Pav climbed onto Parvati’s lap, and Parvati felt her heart hammering in her chest, heavy with destiny. It wasn’t inevitable that she was going to — make love to herself — but it became her indelible truth. Pav kissed her gently, and Parvati wondered if this was how it had been for Hermione her first time with the spell. Had she been thinking of Viktor Krum when she engaged her doppelganger? Was it simple stress relief?
“Shh,” Pav murmured. “You’re thinking too hard.”
Most people didn’t think of Parvati as intelligent like her sister, especially after they had parted ways under the sorting hat and she had gone to Gryffindor, but Parvati was clever. She was also an overthinker. She tried to connect to the moment, to see her double’s soft brown skin that reminded her of the tea they used for tessomancy in Divination class and feel the smooth cascading tresses that had made her rather less curious than her classmates about Firenze’s mane. Enough thinking, she firmly told herself. Act.
Parvati cupped Pav’s head gently, pulling her in for another kiss, unbelievably soft and, although Parvati hadn’t ever so much as thought the word before, sexy. Pav looked like she knew exactly what Parvati was thinking, and maybe she did. Parvati hadn’t asked too many questions about the spell. Pav deepened the kiss, biting Parvati’s lower lip gently and grinding on her thigh, her soaked cotton underwear covering Parvati’s thigh in the scent of her arousal. Parvati’s own core thrummed with desire.
Parvati bucked up greedily under Pav, sliding her double along her thigh and onto her core. Everything was delicious: the weight, the friction, the movement. Everything was Pav. Pav licked Parvati’s lips, sliding her tongue in as they parted. Pav’s movement was needy, but uncertain, as if she had no more idea what to do here than Parvati. Then it hit Parvati — her double wasn’t some experienced sex goddess. This was a copy of her. She tried to press affection into her kiss for this girl, for herself, being so bold and sweet.
Her double whimpered, shook as she came, a wave of her pure magic washing over the bed. Then, Pav suddenly vanished, leaving Parvati feeling wholly empty. She reached for her wand, but her arms felt so tired. Unable to move them, she suddenly collapsed into a sleepy heap over the covers. I must have been using my magic to power the spell , Parvati thought as her eyes closed. Then, she knew no more.
A few hours later, she woke up, blearily wiping the sleep from her eyes. Parvati wanted nothing more than to cast the self-duplicating spell again, but she knew she needed at least to eat before casting the magic again. Likely, she would need to sleep too. She cast tempus , and groaned when she realized dinner wouldn’t be served for another hour. She didn’t want to bother the elves, not when the next meal was so soon.
Parvati groaned. How was she going to face her classmates when she was so hot and bothered, when she was dealing with turmoil over her newfound arousal? As if called by the thought, her smooth breasts stiffened, her nipples pushing soft peaks out from her blouse. Experimentally, she slid one hand over to cup her breast, feeling the perky dot amid the roundness. She needed to touch skin, not shirt. Parvati urgently undid a few buttons, groaning at how slow it went, and finally, her bra poked up from underneath her blouse.
Parvati got an eager hand in, over her bra, under her blouse. She felt for her breast, but it still wasn’t enough. She pulled her blouse overhead, giving her easier access. Now, she could pull her breast just out of her bra, cupping soft brown skin. It was perfect. Parvati rubbed a finger over her already stiffening nipple, feeling it come alive under her touch. This was what she needed. This, and more.
Parvati shoved her other hand down her skirt and knickers, hot and desperate to feel what was underneath. She found a rough patch of hair and then just lower, perfection. Her fingers slid home, and Parvati breathed . This - this was what she craved, the touch she had needed ever since she saw Pav. She let her other hand drift along her bare side, while she dove with a shy finger into her warm, wet cunt, moving it in fast circles, as fast as she could make them. Thankful for the silencing charms on her closed curtains, she didn’t worry about whether anyone else might be in the room. Parvati let go .
Parvati took shallow breaths, almost panting. She moaned, and the sound of her own moan aroused her even more, pussy clenching around her finger. She shoved a second finger along with the first one into her eager cunt, hips shaking in pleasure underneath her own touch. Her pussy seemed to open itself up to her touch, to draw her in. She couldn’t wait to cast the spell again, to have Pav again.
Parvati wriggled her fingers apart, scissoring her pussy open, drenched in her own desire. She brought her hand to her face, raising her fingers to her lips. Covered in her juices, they tasted smooth and a little sweet, a bit like a citrus rind. She wasn’t sure if she liked it on her own fingers, but on Pav, she had no doubt she’d be begging to suck her fingers, to taste her cunt, to lap right at the source.
Parvati delved back into her cunt, and she moved, sliding her fingers in and out as fast as she could. It was everything. She barely even noticed she had stopped rubbing her nipple, in favor of just cupping her breast, halfway to oblivion. Every thought, every sensation, belonged to her sensitive pussy and the fingers pistoning in and out of it until she came, with a cry, and passed out again, her magic seeping into the bed.
This time, though, she dreamed. Pav was there, completely nude, in the Divination classroom, sitting right on Professor Trelawney’s desk. Parvati swallowed and walked up to the teacher’s desk, shucking off her own robes and leaving them on one of the poufs where the students always sat. She unbuttoned a few buttons of her blouse, but left her own clothes undisturbed otherwise.
“Professor Pav,” she teased her double.
Pav rolled her eyes at Parvati. “Come here, shona hafsa, my little gold lion.”
Parvati approached herself at the desk, eyes wide with wonder at her naked beauty.
“Come closer,” Pav urged her.
One step. Then another. “Good girl.”
She was close enough that Pav could pull her in for a kiss, head cradled in her hand. Pav did, and she stood nestled between her own legs, kissing herself on the mouth with enthusiasm. But then her gaze dropped to Pav’s breasts, and she lowered her head to suckle at a soft breast.
Parvati pulled her double’s breast in, tasting, feeling its soft roundness and the contrast of the hardening nipple on her own tongue. She could feel her own breasts swell and her nipples peaking under her blouse as she sucked and licked Pav’s breast. Then, she looked even further down.
“Go on,” Pav encouraged her. “It’s alright.”
Parvati dropped to her knees in front of the teacher’s desk, spreading Pav’s legs wide open. She pressed a kiss to Pav’s dripping cunt. Pav made a delightful little noise that had her clamping her thighs together, closing around Parvati’s head. Parvati took in a deep breath, enjoying the scent of herself, heady and needy. She opened her lips and let her tongue dart out, just a single lick. Delicious.
Parvati dove into Pav’s cunt, her tongue licking stripes up and down her pussy lips and then pushing into her tight, wet heat. She never wanted to taste anything else again, nothing but this. Parvati lapped eagerly at herself, amazed as Pav grew even wetter under her ministrations and came trembling, gushing into her mouth. Parvati swallowed every last drop she could catch, and then she kept on licking, her own knickers soaked as Pav whimpered, hands clutching at the edges of the desk to stay upright.
Parvati licked a few gentle, but strong stripes up Pav’s pussy, before moving her mouth up to kiss Pav’s clit. Then, Parvati lightly sucked on it, the little nub hardening in her mouth. She reached blindly up for one of Pav’s breasts, still sucking her clit, and brushed a thumb over her nipple. Pav came hard, clamping her legs again around Parvati’s head and crying out her own name: Parvati .
Parvati woke up, needy and hungry. She cleaned herself up as best as she could with a spell, and then she opened her bed curtains. It was dark, now, and someone had left some food and a glass of water on her nightstand. She pulled them in behind the covers and lit her wand to find what she’d been given: a sandwich and a slice of raspberry tart. It was probably one of her classmates, then, and not a house elf — these were the most portable foods at the dinner table. Silently, she thanked Lavender in her mind, and then revisited the thought, wondering if it had been Hermione instead. After all, she was familiar with the spell she taught Parvati; she must have had her own experiences with hunger during her first time using it.
Parvati ate ravenously behind her closed curtains, although she barely noticed the taste. All she could think of was casting the spell again and tasting herself on her own tongue. Maybe, then, the other way around, too.
Parvati ensconced herself comfortably in her bed, not noticing that her pillow had fluffed itself. She silenced and locked her curtains when she finished her food, and cast the spell again.