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“You know I’m not going away forever, right?” Harry asked Ginny, gently squeezing her hand.

He had announced at dinner this evening that he had decided to accept the Gringotts internship offer. It was a fantastic opportunity and Gringotts had never before made an offer to a mere Hogwarts student before, or so he heard from everyone around him. Granted, he had beaten a Dark Lord, so he supposed he had earned it, but it was still quite an honor.

But deep inside, he knew that wasn’t the real reason he was taking up the internship. He knew that while he was very happy at the Burrow (very happy indeed), he was getting restless. The amazing sex alone just wasn’t cutting it for him. He hungered for more. He knew that was mainly the Elder Wand speaking to him, but he saw no reason to refuse the impulse. He had momentum going for him now and he was loath to abandon it.

And he had barely even used the Deathstick, resorting mainly to his original wand – he knew practically anyone (including Xenophilius and Luna, who visited often) could spot the Elder Wand and know it for what it was. Not to mention Ron… and Hermione (who popped in and out of the Burrow with a skip in her step because she had reconciled with her parents – she stayed at her folks’ place though), who could identify it in an instant. So he had kept it hidden; however, the longer he held onto the wand, the more it influenced him. The more it whispered to him – of secrets, of spells, of powerful magic long since lost to man. He had recently found that he could practically think and just will the wand to disappear into the ether and then summon it at will, just drawing it out of thin air.

And there were many more secrets to unravel. He needed to work away from those that knew him well, at least for a while, and this Gringotts internship was a fantastic opportunity. He did know that Bill and Fleur still worked at Gringotts, but Fleur was still on her maternity leave and Bill did not know him well enough to know he was slowly changing.

“I know you’re not going away forever,” Ginny said, and sighed, “But I just… you vanished during that horrible war! I didn’t see you for a year, and now you tell me you’re going away again.”

She bowed her head and looked at the ground sadly, her warm, brown eyes glimmering with tears. Harry gently raised her chin up and looked into those warm eyes. “Ginny,” he said softly, “We have a lifetime together. And this is the opportunity of a lifetime. We’ve had months of vacation after the Battle. It’s been a year and I feel restless… like I’m doing absolutely nothing with my life.”

“I…” Ginny said, and swiped at her eyes, “It’s just… promise… I don’t… I feel like you’re leaving me behind.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “If this is about your mom…,” he started.

Ginny’s eyes flashed up at him. “No!” Ginny said, “No, no. That’s not it at all. I know you don’t really love her, not like… me.”

But I love the sex, Harry thought guiltily, and I’m growing quite fond of my Molly.

“And even if you did,” Ginny continued, “I don’t care – I know you’ve got enough space in that big dumb heart for me.”

“Ginny,” Harry said earnestly, “You’ve got a space no one else can ever hold.”

“I know,” Ginny said playfully, “I believe you made that quite clear last night.”

Harry blushed. And there’s the part I’m going to miss, Harry thought. He had made love to Ginny in practically every part of the house. He hadn’t really even touched Molly since that time they had sex in the kitchen, nearly a week ago. In fact, Hermione had returned the next day and in her watchful presence, there had only been a few glances and gropes (mostly Molly groping him rather than the other way around), but nothing really physical. Ginny, on the other hand…

And there had been another issue – Ron. Ron was behaving very, very weirdly. Ginny had confessed to him that she had confided in Ron about the whole thing with Molly and Arthur, so Harry had expected an angry confrontation. But strangely, Ron was looking at him, not with anger or disgust, but with… awe? It was very, very weird – the last time he had seen Ron like this was during the World Cup when he saw Viktor Krum.

He had also noticed Ron and Ginny arguing with each other quite a bit. Ron and Ginny had always sort of been at odds with each other over her love life, but Harry didn’t think their arguments were about her love life this time around. But he never could get a straight answer from either of them when he asked them what they were arguing about. Ron just looked away, or tried to distract him with Quidditch or chess, while Ginny just shushed him and told him he might find out later.

So at the end of the day, he supposed there were more reasons to leave and learn something new, than to stay and relax. But he still had to reassure Ginny.

So he leaned in to capture her lips with a kiss, conveying all of his feelings through that single gesture. And then she got into his lap and he smiled.

Oh he loved reassuring her in this fashion. Although, she probably loved being reassured even more.

***

Harry checked and re-checked his bag – he would only be carrying the most basic provisions as per his instructions from Gringotts. Apparently, he was going on a field trip – a bunch of French Aurors were leading an expedition into the Alps to recover an as-of-yet undisclosed artifact. Bill Weasley and Harry were the only English members that were part of the team. Harry had no idea why he – an intern – was chosen to go with the team, but he guessed Bill had had something to do with that. His welcome pack had also informed him that the field trip was expected to be a walk in the park; it was only expected to last five days and all provisions would be arranged by Gringotts.

As such, Harry had the Invisibility Cloak and several sets of clothes and toiletries stuffed into a satchel, assisted by an expansion charm. Of course, he also had access to the Elder Wand, apart from his own phoenix feather wand. He was getting quite proficient at drawing it out of thin air and willing it to disappear after all the practicing he did in the isolation of the orchard near the Burrow.

He had already said his goodbyes to Arthur and Molly. He was in the sitting area alongside Ginny, waiting for her eldest brother to arrive and portkey him to what would serve as Headquarters for the next week or so. He was puzzled at the fact that Ron and Hermione hadn’t come down to see him off – he knew he had told them he was leaving today.

As if on cue, Ginny leaned over and said, “Harry, Ron said you should meet him upstairs before you go. He’s had something on his mind for weeks, and he just wants to settle it with you.”

Harry checked his watch – he had only around three-quarters of an hour before Bill was scheduled to arrive and he did not want to keep Bill waiting. At the same time, he was really curious about Ron’s behavior and wanted to know what was bothering the man.

And in any case, he could never really refuse his best friend, so he shrugged, smiled at Ginny and climbed up the stairs to the top floor of the Burrow. He did notice though, that Ginny gave him the strangest smile as he had left – she had looked incredibly smug before, but he knew that was because he had shagged her rotten the previous night. But this smile was different from her previous smug expression. This was the sort of smile she used to give him back in his Gryffindor seeker days (soon to return, or so he hoped, since Hogwarts was going to reopen in a few months) when she told him to “go get that Snitch.”

Weird.

***

“Ron,” Hermione said in a worried voice, “I’m really not sure about this.”

Ron was laying soft kisses down her neck and was running his arms up and down her sides. He was acting very frisky and she did not understand it. She and Ron had become sexually active even before she left for Australia. Of course, now that the frenzy caused by the war was over, she was a bit torn on whether they would last as a couple, but she thought that with perseverance and understanding, they could surely work it out.

Lately though, they had been having problems. Their love life had never really blown her socks off – not since the day she had lost her virginity anyway – but she wasn’t really unhappy about their sex life, as infrequent as it was. Ever since she had returned, however, Ron had been acting really strange. He had never really lasted beyond ten or fifteen minutes, but she had always figured with practice, he would get better and they could make the long, sweet love she had always dreamed off. Recently, however, Ron would just get a faraway look in his eye when they initiated sex and he would blow practically as soon as she touched him.

And that was getting her incredibly frustrated. She tried to get him to focus, to masturbate before they did stuff (which did work, but even more frustratingly, he just wouldn’t get hard for hours after he finished) and eventually, had asked him exactly what got him so turned on before she had even begun.

Ron kept stalling, but a week ago, he had broken down and told her that he had this fantasy.

She had laughed at it, but then he just didn’t stop going on about it. And that got her intrigued as well. She asked him what had triggered this whole fantasy, but Ron remained tight-lipped about it, only asking her if she was willing. And then begging and pleading.

And on the last day, just before the object of Ron’s fantasy was about to leave, she had accepted. Ron had rushed out, then rushed back into the room and said it would only take a few minutes.

Hermione gulped. Even if she had accepted Ron’s weird request, she hadn’t really expected things to fall into place so fast. But if it got Ron off… but she did think it was strange, considering how the very same thought that was now spurring him on had previously caused him to storm out when they were hunting for Horcruxes. Hermione shuddered. She didn’t even want to go there. And if Ron had gotten over it, so had she.

And Ron was turned on – he hadn’t shown this much passion, since… ever. Ever since she had relented, Ron had been kissing her, and hugging her and showering her with affection. And that made Hermione feel sexy – an emotion she rarely experienced.

“Please…” Ron gasped, letting go of her, “Please stand up.”

Hermione stood up and smiled sultrily at Ron.

“I want you ready for him,” Ron said, “Please…”

Hermione shrugged and took off her shirt and jeans, posing in front of Ron in her lingerie. She saw the tent in Ron’s trousers and smirked. She then took off her bra and panties with swift moves. She wasn’t quite aroused yet, but she supposed she could give her boyfriend a show. She spread her hands out on each side and tilted her hip to one side, posing in front of Ron.

And that was the scene to which Harry Potter walked in as he burst into Ron’s room.

***

Well, Harry thought wryly, there’s something you don’t see every day.

Hermione Granger completely naked, her hands spread out on either side. Harry gaped, and then closed his eyes – but he knew he wasn’t likely to forget the sight anytime soon. He started walking backwards out of the room, crying out, “Sorry guys, didn’t mean to walk in on this!”

But then the door slammed shut behind him. He opened his eyes with a start and saw that Ron had his wand out and pointed to the door. The lanky redhead then lowered his wand and leaned further back on his single bed.

Hermione was posing in between the two single beds in the room. Harry looked between Ron and Hermione, completely confused by this turn of events. Ron was staring at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to make a move, and Hermione still had her hands spread out, though she was looking down and biting her lips oh-so-sexily.

And then it all clicked.

Harry’s eyes snapped to Ron’s. “You sure about this?” Harry asked sharply.

Ron nodded.

Harry crowed inwardly. Holy crap, this is the perfect send-off gift, Harry thought happily, Thank you, Ginny!

Everything made sense now – Ron’s behavior since Ginny told him about Harry and his mom, Hermione’s catty comments during the past week, the constant arguments Ron, Hermione and Ginny had when they thought they were out of Harry’s earshot. It all comes together.

Ron’s just like his dear old father, Harry thought wryly as his magic sang and thrummed around him. Not that he was complaining.

The room blurred in his vision – Ron, the beds, the Chudley Cannons posters, the Martin Miggs comics… they all fell away as Hermione sharpened into focus. As he gazed upon her glorious form, Harry felt like he needed this woman. He wanted her.

He had always thought Hermione was an incredibly beautiful woman. In many ways, she was the complete physical opposite of Molly (and Ginny). She was incredibly petite as opposed to the voluptuous bodies of the Weasley women. She had incredibly perky breasts, but they weren’t even close to the enormous milkbags that Molly or Ginny possessed (although Ginny was still at least a cup size smaller than her mother). Hermione had a very pretty ass – toned and bubbly – but again, not quite the jiggling cheeks that Molly and Ginny lugged around.

“Hermione,” Harry said, and her eyes looked up into his, “Turn towards me.”

She obeyed, albeit very, very hesitantly. Oh, Harry thought, I’m going to ruin her.

Even Hermione’s beautiful flower was different. Where Molly and Ginny had folds – amazing flaps that seemed to hug him as he speared their silky walls – Hermione had lips – shy, taut, soft rims that quivered with nervous energy. Even with Hermione’s legs closed, Harry could make out that her vagina would be incredibly tight. His eyes rove down her toned, surprisingly athletic legs and then snapped up again to her face.

And that’s what truly sets her apart, physically, Harry thought, she’s… beautiful.

Indeed, Hermione possibly had the prettiest face in his year at Hogwarts – with perhaps just Parvati for competition. She could stand next to Fleur and not feel even a bit lesser. A cute nose. Wide, warm eyes. Thin lips that he knew looked amazing when she bit down on her quill pondering over her homework. A delicate, fragile chin. High cheekbones. God, she’s incredible. And Ron’s a moron for letting this fall into my hands.

And with that condescending thought, Harry just surged forward, dropping off an article of cloth that covered with each step, losing his boxers last just as he pressed his lips onto a very surprised Hermione. She yelped into his mouth in surprise as he grabbed her ass, lifted her (she’s so light!) and pushed her into the wall between the beds, right onto a Chudley Cannon’s poster.

***

Hermione gasped as Harry pinched her arse with both hands and simply lifted her into the air like she weighed nothing. She barely even had time to take in that godlike figure (when had Harry gotten so hot?) before he closed in on her lips and his tongue was practically dueling hers. She grabbed onto his upper arms, her heart fluttering as she gripped his massive biceps, feeling the muscles ripple underneath.

God, he can kiss, she thought as his tongue thoroughly violated her mouth, her own tongue surrendering meekly as his swirled around hers. And then Harry’s hands, still on her arse, squeezed and she moaned into his mouth again. Harry pushed up at her ass and her mouth pulled off his. She gasped at the intensity of his kiss and at the abrupt manner in which it had been cut off. She just rose and rose into the air by the strength of his hands, like a goddess being worshiped by her god. Dimly, she registered her boyfriend in the background furiously masturbating at the sight of her being dominated by Harry, but she didn’t particularly care. She just wanted those incredible lips on her again.

And then she gasped as she felt her suck briefly at her nipple, before pushing her even higher up against the wall. And just as she was high enough for her legs to be draped over his shoulders, his face right in her muff, she knew exactly what Harry was going for.

Ron and I never got around to trying that, she thought idly.

“A pity I’ve barely got an hour Hermione,” Harry growled at her, cutting off her line of thought, and she shuddered at his husky voice in the vicinity of her aroused pussy, “I could eat this pussy for hours.”

Hermione shuddered again. “Unfortunately,” Harry continued in the same intense voice, “I’m going to have to speed this up.”

And then, without warning, he dove right in. Hermione let out a squeak as he just slammed his tongue right down her pussy (it’s so long!) and curled this way and that, like it was searching for something important. She moaned at the ceiling, her back still supported by the wall as his tongue dug around her insides – and then it landed on…

“Oh, oh, oh, OH OHHHHHH!” Hermione screamed as his tongue landed on that spot. And she gaped down at Harry’s head and gushed at the sight of his messy black hair just buried into her snatch. It looked like he was lapping hungrily at a delicate chalice, his hands grabbing her ass and plunging her cunt onto her mouth… and it felt incredible. And that was when his tongue started vibrating.

Hermione curled her fingers into his messy hair (god, she loved running her fingers through it) and she writhed in pleasure, her eyes closed and she felt something incredible build up. Her vagina was gushing fluid now and judging by the sound Harry was making, she was wet. She had never been this wet before and then, she saw spots as her entire body spasmed and shuddered and quivered.

Oh my God, Hermione thought as her vision blurred and she leaned forward off the wall, her fingers digging into Harry’s skull, I’m having an orgasm. I’m… having… an… orgasm. My first… orgasm.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!” Hermione screamed, her eyes tearing up. She hadn’t known pleasure like this even existed.

She dimly registered Harry slowly bringing her down and she eventually felt her rump settle down on a cylindrical bar. She squirmed against the bar, rubbing back and forth as Harry just looked at her. Despite herself, she forced her eyes wide open and looked back at him

And all she saw was admiration and awe. He was looking at her moving in the throes of passion like she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen and she moaned at him as she squirmed even harder on the fat rod he had set her down on (What am I sitting on anyway, Hermione thought). Her inner walls kept shuddering periodically as she slowly ground herself down – her clitoris was throbbing as it rubbed so pleasurably against her seat and her cunt was leaking onto the ground.

“Liked that, did we?” Harry asked softly.

“I…” Hermione gasped, “I think… ovaries… exploded.”

Harry choked out a laugh in surprise and she smiled weakly at him, still grinding herself down. She arched her back as she strove to come down from her high and her nipples stood stiff and proud on her perky tits.

“Need… more,” she gasped, “Please.”

Harry obliged. And he grabbed her ass again and lifted. She felt the massive pole she had been sitting on shift and curl up against her throbbing cunt. Harry bent backward and then pushed up. And just as the curvy, dome of the mysterious bar pushed into her gushing pussy, squashing her clitoris and starting up her orgasm again, she realized what she had been sitting on all this time.

No way, she thought, that’s his… his thing? She actually hadn’t seen Harry’s penis yet – he had tackled her to the wall before she even got a good look at him.

She was pressed into the wall now; her toes were entire inches off the ground – had been, for quite some time, since Harry got his hands on her arse – and her hands were pressed against the wall. Her legs were spread wide on either side, branching out into an upside-down “V”. And Harry’s cock was trying desperately to push into her miniscule twat that was leaking fluids down his enormous shaft – pussy juices that then dribbled all the way down and eventually rolling off his massive balls onto the ground. Hermione realized with a start that apart from Ron’s tiny pecker, nothing else had been up there. She had been far too timid to even try getting herself off before.

And then she looked down at Harry’s rod and just gaped stupidly. It was enormous – just going on and on from her quivering cunt to Harry midriff, at the end of that amazing V-shaped cut that jutted around his incredibly defined abs. It’s like a muscly arrow, she thought with a giggle, saying, “Here comes the wife-tamer!”

And then he pushed some more. “Fuck!” Harry swore, “You’re so tight!”

“No,” Hermione choked, and swore right back, “You’re fucking big.”

Harry laughed. “You shouldn’t swear, Hermione,” he said and then jerked forward just as Hermione floundered for a retort and she screamed again as his enormous head burst into her tiny twat, stretching it like it had never been stretched before.

And then, slowly, centimeter by centimeter, to Harry’s incredible frustration, his shaft sank into her tight love tunnel. It was gushing obscenely, fluids still dripping down his shaft. And if he thought Ginny’s insides hugged him so tightly when he made love to her, Hermione’s walls were practically trying to choke his dick until it drowned in a squirming, writhing, wet pit of ecstasy.

And after nearly five minutes of pushing and writhing and panting and groaning, there was still an inch of Harry’s penis still to go. Harry couldn’t take it anymore – his brain, both the one in his head and the other one in his other head (nestled safely in the depths of Hermione’s impossibly tight cunt) were screaming at him to just slam into her – and he just gave one last titanic push. Hermione slammed into his hips and her mouth opened in a silent scream as she turned her face heavenwards in pleasure. She was sitting on his balls now, which were throbbing against her pert bottom.

Now, buried completely in her pussy, Harry tried to move, but he found that her vagina was holding his penis in a vice-grip. He literally pulled her down with him as he tried to pull out and Hermione whined.

“Your cunt is less elastic than I thought, Hermione,” Harry observed.

A spot of drool dribbled down Hermione’s wide open mouth. She couldn’t scream, she couldn’t speak, she could moan. She was caught in a frozen moment filled with immense pleasure – she had never really come down from her first orgasm, and as Harry jerked back and forth, jerking her back and forth in turn, her quim fluttered around his enormous shaft and she just went from orgasm to orgasm – or perhaps it was one giant orgasm, just moving between highs and lows.

“What do you think is the modulus of elasticity of your twat, Little Miss Know-It-All?” Harry taunted, remembering the Transfiguration class where McGonagall had taught them how to transfigure metals to plastics.

Hermione groaned and finally managed to speak, as Harry kept moving, apparently trying to unscrew his cock out of her grip as he twisted back and forth, stretching and twining her incredibly wet walls around his fat cock. “Don’t… fucking… care,” she grunted.

Harry let out a barking laugh. Then he lifted her off the wall and slammed her into the bed on her right. Somewhere, at the back of her mind, in a part that was sealed away the moment this encounter had started, Hermione observed that Ron would have an incredible view of Harry’s fat cock buried in her cunt with his massive balls throbbing right under her quim.

***

Harry thought Hermione looked incredible, her gorgeous face flushed and her lovely lips open in a silent scream as she shuddered around his penis. Her walls were practically spasming around his cock – tremors seemed to rock every inch of her body as he desperately tried to move back and forth within her.

Her back was arched and her perfect little nipples were straining against her perfect little breasts, begging for attention. He cupped both of them, squeezed and a high-pitched squeal finally escaped her open mouth. If he had it his way, Harry thought, he would keep her on this orgasmic high forever.

“Little Miss Perfect,” he reflected, “You truly are perfect.”

But time was running out and Harry wasn’t in the mood for more of this incredible sight – at this rate, he could happily keep working over Hermione for ages, but he didn’t have the time.

“Sorry, love,” Harry whispered to Hermione as her glazed eyes pleaded with him, “I’d love to just stay like this forever. But I’m afraid I’m going to have to move.”

He gripped her tiny waist from both sides and rooted himself, planting his legs even further apart. This had the additional effect of pushing Hermione’s legs, which were on either side of his waist, even further apart, giving him some room to move.

And then Harry started moving.

***

Ron’s thighs and bed were spattered with his own semen, but he didn’t care. He had started cumming when Harry had started spearing that massive thing up his girlfriend’s tight cunt. And while normally, Ron took hours to recover from such an incredible orgasm, the sight of Harry trying to move while embedded deep in his girl’s pussy had got him hard again.

And then Harry had pulled Hermione off the wall and thrown her onto the bed like a ragdoll, still buried in her pussy. And just like Ron’s mom, Hermione was gushing and shuddering. Ron had never seen her like this before. She was a beautiful wanton angel now, her frazzled hair spread out on the bed as she gazed up with such adoring eyes at Harry, squirming around his humongous shaft.

Unfortunately, Harry had thrown Hermione onto the bed opposite Ron, and Ron didn’t have a clear view of the action now. He was nearing his second orgasm and needed to see this. So he got up and moved down the aisle to the foot of the bed, gazing at the sexed up couple from the side. Ron was bent over pathetically, rubbing up and down his prick, panting as his knees shook with the force of his oncoming orgasm.

And it was an incredible sight. Harry was virtually tearing Hermione’s pussy walls apart as he grunted and moved up and down, but Hermione just wasn’t letting that enormous cockmeat go. Her pussy was gushing out juices as she writhed on the bed in heat, her mouth open and her unseeing eyes staring in Harry’s direction. Her hands were clawing at the bed and her legs were up in the air, toes curling and uncurling in pleasure.

Suddenly, Harry moved his hands from where he had been mauling Hermione’s tits, down to either side of her waist. And he gripped it firmly. And then started to move.

Harry grunted and pulled and Hermione moved with him – only, Harry’s hands stopped her downward motion in its tracks. His veins were bulging out and muscles seemed to grow upon his muscles as his shaft scraped out of her gushing twat. “AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!” Hermione screamed.

And then, just as her scream petered out into a moan and Harry’s penis, now shimmering with Hermione’s apparently endless supply of cunt-juice, was almost out of her quim, he slammed back, brutally. Hermione’s scream rose to a fervent pitch again. Ron was beating himself off furiously now as Harry started pulling out slowly and then slamming back in rapidly several times over. He gulped as he saw Hermione’s trim abdomen swell as Harry pushed in – almost like a tight glove swells when you squeeze your fingers in – and then contract as Harry teased out. He could practically see the cylindrical swell of Harry’s cock reshape her inner walls as he plowed in and then allow them to try and regain their former tightness as he pulled out. Hermione’s scream was one continuous, long whine now – growing suddenly in pitch as he smashed into her hips and then steadily decreasing in pitch as he retreated.

And then, even as he started increasing the pace, Harry took his hands off Hermione’s hips momentarily, grabbed her legs and pushed them up and around his front so that her legs were pointing up at the ceiling, resting on either side of his head along his chest, giving him unfettered access to her pussy.

Then with his hands right around the base of her thighs, Harry truly started fucking her. He started smashing in and out of her, rapidly increasing his pace to a fever pitch and Hermione just screamed and screamed. Her eyes, which had previously been glazed, were now actually rolling up into the back of her skull and her breasts were swinging back and forth wildly. Harry pulverized her pussy – it was like his cock was tearing apart her walls and rebuilding them anew to forever fit his (and only his) enormous meat. Ron heard, rather than saw, the smack-smack-smack of his enormous testicles slapping against Hermione’s tight arse.

“Look at the virgin of Gryffindor!” Harry taunted as he pounded in and out of her, “Nothing but a slut begging for cock!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGHHHHHH!” Hermione continued to scream, spittle flying out of her mouth and foam spouting at her lips.

“The Golden Girl!” Harry taunted again, “McGonagalls favorite little helper! Look at you!”

The sheets actually tore as Hermione scraped at them, her hands… her entire body writhing in the grip of a pleasure that Ron had never seen on her before.

It sounds like he’s scraping against wet sandpaper, Ron thought as he neared his release, Her tight cunt will never be tight again. He’s destroying it! Harry’s destroying my girl’s tight cunt! Ron’s pace grew faster and faster as he neared completion.

And as if echoing his thoughts, Hermione screamed, “NNNNNN…. MY CUNT! FUCK MY CUNT! NEVER… SAME… AGAIN… FUCK!”

“Almost there, babe,” Harry said serenely as he plopped his penis out with a mighty pull. It popped out with a loud plop and her lips clinging to it as if her twat just didn’t want to let its new owner go.

Harry let go of her legs as he retreated. She continued to moan and shudder and Ron saw with a start that an enormous puddle had accumulated on the bed underneath her. She was sweating and cumming and it was all mixing underneath her – Ron would forever remember that bed as the place where Harry had conquered Ron’s second girlfriend. Hermione’s legs flopped uselessly to the ground. And she was still cumming – she was lost to the world. Harry stepped around Hermione, still rubbing his shaft (fuck, Ron thought, even his own hand doesn’t fit around his shaft). And as Ron gaped and jerked off at the foot of the bed where his best friend had thoroughly shagged his girlfriend, Harry skipped onto the bed, planted his legs on either side of Hermione and knelt over her, while not quite sitting down atop her. His massive balls plopped onto her tummy as Harry sandwiched his cock in her cleavage. He then reached down with both hands behind her head and pulled her face upward, which had been lying down and flushing beautifully with the force of her orgasm, so that his massive head pushed right between her lips.

Harry was feeding his cock to her, literally stuffing his cock down her mouth. In her orgasmic haze, Hermione still managed to take his massive purple crown into her mouth – she couldn’t seem to fight anymore and the rest of Harry’s shaft still lay outside down her throat, between her cleavage and right up to her stomach – but she wasn’t cognizant enough to actually give it any attention. Ron couldn’t take it anymore – incredibly, he came for the second time that evening, within minutes of his previous orgasm. Drops of semen leaked out of his cock, spreading over his own fist.

And then, Harry spurted. His balls, which were sitting all the way down on his tummy, pulsed and just continued to pulse. And his shaft seemed to recoil like a cannon several times as he fired what seemed to be liters of his cum down Hermione’s mouth. She could not swallow, still in a daze, and gurgled; streams of his cum foamed at her mouth and dribbled down her chin.

After nearly an entire minute and a half, where Harry just grunted and fed Hermione his sperm, he finally popped his cockhead out of Hermione’s mouth and slapped it twice against her chin to shake any remaining semen off. He briskly stood up and then methodically put on his clothes, one piece after the other.

Ron collapsed onto the bed beside Hermione, panting like he’d run a marathon. She was literally blubbering out Harry’s sperm as she lay there, dazed and still feeling her orgasm wind down.

“Bye, guys,” Harry said brightly, “Guess I have to go. Ron, tell Hermione this was just a sampler. If you want, I’ll give her the real deal after I come back.”

And then Harry checked his watch, nodded to himself, then winked at both of them and stalked out of the room, singing a jaunty tune.

And as Ron started snoring beside his thoroughly satisfied girlfriend, he only had one refrain running through his head – I want an encore.

***

Two months later

Harry was trudging through a meadow. He knew it looked absolutely beautiful and the grass looked absolutely beautiful in the cold blue light of early dawn, just before the sun had peeks over the horizon. And yet, he was trudging as opposed to hiking because he felt that the term “hiking” was something a happy person would use.

And he knew the tall, red-haired curse-breaker walking next to him felt exactly the same way. Bill Weasley had apparently promised his family that he’d be home for Christmas Dinner after a five-day mission with Gringotts and so had Harry. Only, the five-day mission had turned to a week and then a month. And now, it was two months.

Apparently, a bunch of French Ministry officials had decided that they would get their hands on an age-old heirloom that belonged to their country. It had been stolen from them by Voldemort to ally the giants with him. So, as part of an attempt to make peace with the French (for the French blamed the British since the Dark Lord actually was the British Ministry for nearly a year), the British Minister of Magic had offered to assist in their search for this stolen heirloom. Only, the French had outright refused (because politicking, Harry thought tiredly) and Gringotts had intervened, saying that they would be happy to provide one of their best Cursebreakers for the mission, who was incidentally English. The French agreed because Gringotts was a popular third-party organization and the British Ministry was appeased because Gringotts was offering an Englishman up for the mission (along with their famous Boy-Who-Lived, albeit as an intern) and Gringotts was happy, because they were being paid by both the French and the English. Thus, this entire dog-and-pony show had begun.

And it was supposed to be a simple mission – the French Ministry had received word that this heirloom was at Riddle Manor; a team of five French Aurors as well as Bill, with Harry’s help would comb the house and break any wards or curses that still persevered. And then everyone would pose for a photograph and bold headlines would be published on either side of the Channel that declared that a contingent of French Aurors had recovered an age-old heirloom with the help of two British nationals, one of whom was quite famous. And everyone would be happy.

But then they had burst into Riddle Manor, combed it for five days, then for a week. And they had found nothing. Oh, they had discovered wards and curses and Harry had learned a lot by watching Bill break those down. But at the end of the day, the heirloom was still missing.

And so, they had skipped Christmas, and then New Year, and here they were, in the middle of February, on this globe-trotting adventure, still going around in search of the heirloom.

Although, while the whole thing caused no end of frustration to Harry (the kind of adventure he craved – the one with battle – was just not there), he supposed it did score as a win. Primarily because, while Bill had taught him a lot about breaking down wards and setting them up, Harry had discovered something even more spectacular.

There had been plenty of opportunities for experimenting with the Elder Wand. Harry’s head swam at the number of European magical villages and cities they had been around. He was truly seeing the magical world now, and it was spectacular. But that wasn’t even the best part – while the French Aurors walked around, knocking down doors, asking questions, persuading informants with galleons and searching desperately for their national heirloom, Harry had been busy seeing what the ancient wand could teach him.

And teach him, it did. One day, as he was practicing his Occlumency exercises and clearing his mind, when he felt an insistent poking against his senses and he knew it was the Deathstick. So he opened his mind to the sensation and traced it back to the wand; the flurry of images had startled him. The Deathstick did not quite speak to him so much as it showed him. The Elder Wand had memories – that was its greatest secret and Harry felt privileged to have discovered it. He knew every wand had a memory – Ollivander had implied that much in that gloomy cell at Malfoy Manor. But the Elder Wand was so powerful that it remembered so much more. Spells, charms, curses – they just played themselves out in his mind and he just knew what to do. And so, he and the Elder Wand had begun to form a bond, where it taught him by showing him deep and ancient magic, and he practiced whenever he found time, which was often.

Not that he was not interacting with the team. The French Aurors did not have much to teach him by way of defensive or offensive magic (not as much as the Elder Wand anyway), but they did teach him other things – the most valuable being spell creation. For the first time, Harry was truly, instinctively understanding how spells are created, how they could be modified and extended and altered.

At the same time, the blood pounded in his head as his wand chastised him for not using any of the awe-inspiring knowledge it gave him on battle magic. He had blasted plenty of conjured dummies apart on isolated moors, but where was the real blood he needed to grow? Where was the thrill?

And somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry knew he shouldn’t think this way, he wouldn’t have thought this way only a year ago. Yet, here he was.

“Uh, Harry,” Bill said, interrupting his flow of thoughts as they converged on a small hillock in the middle of the meadow they were trudging across. Apparently, the French Aurors knew pour sûr that this was the place the heirloom was stored (yeah, Harry thought snidely, they’ve said that before). “You thought about that… stuff we talked about?”

Harry sighed. Yeah, he thought, that’s a great topic to bring up just as they were converging on their objective. “Are you sure you’ve cleared it with Ginny?” Harry asked.

Bill just looked askance at him and said, “Yes, I told you I sent her a letter and subtly asked her about it. She replied with an oblique yes.”

Truth be told, Ginny’s acceptance or rejection didn’t even bother him anymore. Apparently, Ron had confided in George about the whole thing with Harry and Molly (although, Ron did send him a letter saying he hadn’t said a word about him and Hermione to anyone and wanted to keep it that way) and George had told Bill. And now, according to Bill, every Weasley male knew Harry had jumped into bed with their mother once (or twice, Harry thought, though the Weasleys didn’t know that). Great.

And the weird part was – they didn’t care. There were no confrontations, which went against everything Harry had known, or thought he had known, about the Weasleys. And worse, Ron and Bill had asked him to do their significant other.

And Bill was married. Granted, Harry supposed he should’ve thought that about Molly and Arthur, but at least the Weasley parents had been married for decades before doing this sort of stuff. Bill had a quarter-veela hanging onto his arms for maybe three years at best, and he was already pushing her at Harry. This was all wrong. And Harry, even a year ago, would have run far, far away from this.

And that was what niggled at him, though even that niggling guilt was dying now. Harry knew he would bang Fleur in an instant (god, she was so hot), so the nonchalance he showed Bill was mostly just a veil – he was being moral for the sake of being moral and keeping up appearances in polite company.

But now, he didn’t want to think about that because he was stuck on a boring mission. And thinking about Bill’s incredibly hot wife would lead to thoughts of sex and then, of thoughts of other associated emotions and then he would be frustrated all over again. So he concentrated on the hillock – not so small now that they were practically twenty feet away from its base – that was glowing ethereal and blue-green in the false sunlight just before dawn.

They had chosen to walk in, as opposed to fly in on brooms, because they needed to check for traps and curses. That had been a waste though, because there had been no traps or curses of any sort. However, their primary concern had not been dark wizards or wards, but the possibility of meeting giants. For the meadow and the hillock as well as the surrounding forests and mountains were part of a large sanctuary established in the 1100s by the ICW for giants. This was the stomping ground of giants, which was absolutely worrisome.

The heirloom they were searching for was an ancient chalice – a giant’s chalice, rumored to give any giant that drank water from it strength equal to that of ten giants. It had been created long, long ago by a French witch whose name was lost to time for her giant husband (Harry just had to smirk at that possibility) and it had immediately been confiscated by the Gaul elders at the time. Ever since then, the giants had tried to get their hands on this artifact and now, it was rumored to be sitting right in the middle of their territory. Oh Riddle, Harry thought, How appropriate of you to put the artifact the giants want right in the middle of them and then withhold it from them. Your hubris was indeed incredible.

And now that they had approached the hillock, Harry truly felt it. The hillock was, strangely enough, a mountain of hard, bare stone – a massive dome with no apparent entrance. It was perfectly smooth and Harry knew this was no natural hill formed by corrosion and quakes; this had been forged by someone for hiding something truly remarkable. And Harry could feel the powerful magic reverberating around the place. They had felt it even from a hundred feet out – Bill told him it was the scent of a failed Fidelius Charm that Bill thought had fallen into decay months ago when Harry had defeated Voldemort. And they had approached it at a fortunate time – any earlier and the Fidelius would still have been too strong for them to breach it.

They had now drawn right up to the enormous stone construct – it must have been at least a hundred feet high and Harry couldn’t even tell how wide it was. One of the aurors sent a spell at the construct and the spell bounced back with a clang. “It’s hollow,” breathed one of the aurors as she gazed upon the stone hill with wonder, “It’s a chamber.”

Bill, who had bent down to inspect the base of the hill said, “And it’s not dug in. It’s practically sitting on the ground. I reckon we might be able to lift it with a team of a few dozen wizards and simple levitation charms.”

Harry gaped. The enormous hill was basically a giant lid purportedly concealing the chalice, like a butler covering up a dish on a serving tray with a platter dome. Magic-users are so weird, Harry thought. And then it hit him. “A team of several dozen wizards and levitation charms,” Harry said, touching the cold, smooth surface of the dome, “Or ten giants with their bare hands. Like in the legend.”

One of the French aurors – a woman with long, black hair that was bunched into braids – laughed. “Oui,” she chortled, “Appropriate.”

And that was when they heard the sound they had all feared (and craved, Harry thought guiltily). Boom boom boom. The thudding sound of enormous footfalls on the ground. And they all turned in a flash and gazed into the gloom, which was rapidly falling away as the sun rose. At least five hundred feet away from them was the dark line of the forest that bordered the meadow. Rising out of the forest were enormous shapes that loomed large in the light of rising dawn. Harry tried to count the shapes, but before he could even get to the third silhouette, one of the French aurors shrieked, “It’s a whole tribe!”

Oh crap, Harry thought. Dimly, he remembered a Binns lecture on how a giant tribe consisted of at least sixty individuals. And Harry’s heart thumped into his chest in rhythm with the footfalls of the enormous shadows lurking in the distance, fast approaching their position.

And just as the sun rose over the horizon, orange light washing away the blue, Harry truly saw them. They were at least twenty feet tall each and there were dozens of them all sprinting full tilt with enormous clubs straight at the dome. Straight at them.

The giants had arrived to reclaim their heirloom.

***

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