Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor
Chapter Four
Disclamer: Not mine, I own nothing. I’m not making any money
WARNING: Harsh Language, adult themes, sexual situations (i.e. smut), bad spelling and grammar.
Author’s Notes: This story is a broad farce with over the top humor (a good deal of it is crude and sexual) and OOC actions (that’s Out Of Character if you don’t know). Also, this is my first smut-ish fic. If you don’t like sex and sex-based humor, do NOT read this!
Chapter Four Summary: Harry and Hermione head to the Burrow for the Wedding.
Without uttering a sound, Tonks slowly closed the door to Harry’s dorm room, leaving the young man and woman in their very compromising, and very naked, position. Harry stared at the door expecting Tonks to bust through once more, saying something along the lines of: “Time for breakfast kids. Oh wait, you two have already /eaten/” with far too much emphasis on the word “eaten.”
After what seemed like minutes, Hermione finally spoke up: “um… I don’t think she’ll be back. Let’s clean up and head to the Common Room.”
“What do you reckon she’ll do?” asked Harry as he untangled himself from Hermione’s legs.
“I don’t know,” answered Hermione. She then waved her wand over her body and magically cleaned herself. “But I’m certain that it’ll be terribly embarrassing.”
Harry could still feel Hermione’s warm liquid on his face. He felt as if the bottom half of his face must have borne a striking resemblance to a glazed doughnut at the time. Harry remembered his conversation with Hermione from the day before where she had said that she wasn’t messy but he certainly was. With a grin on his wet face, Harry said to Hermione, “Looks like you’re just as messy as me.”
Hermione blushed a beautiful shade of scarlet and smiled in an impish way. Harry was taken back at how beautiful she was at that moment and he made a silent promise to try to make her smile as much as he could from then on.
“I guess I am rather… messy, aren’t I?” Hermione responded and performed the same cleansing charm on Harry. He was a tad disappointed when her wetness disappeared from his face; he rather liked her smell and he definitely liked her taste. After she found her knickers (which were still floating in the air), Hermione cursed, “My clothes are in my room, all I have over here is my nightgown!”
“Don’t worry,” stated Harry in-between hops (his boxers were hovering just out of reach), “we’ll transfigure your dressing gown until we can get you something more suitable.”
A short while later, the two teens ventured into the Gryffindor Common Room to find Remus Lupin sitting at one of the tables writing something with Tonks leaning over their former DADA professor. Upon noticing Harry and Hermione, Remus casually folded up the paper he was writing on and placed it inside his robes.
“Good morning, you two,” Remus greeted them as if nothing peculiar had happened. Even though she hadn’t said anything yet, Harry noticed that Tonks still had that devilish gleam in her eyes. “Get ready; we have a big day ahead of us,” Remus concluded.
“Bu… bu… I… ah…” stammered Harry. He had expected to be teased by either Tonks or Remus. “What’s so important about today?”
“What’s so important?” Remus repeated. “We have to go to Diagon Alley to buy both of you some formal robes for Bill and Fleur’s wedding tomorrow. But more importantly, today’s the most important day in your life, Harry. Today’s the day you’ve become a man!” Remus declared proudly.
Harry felt his face heat up at Remus’ statement; he could tell that Hermione was just as embarrassed as he was. ‘What did Tonks think she saw?’ Harry realized that Tonks must’ve thought that he and Hermione had gone all the way and had lost their virginity and she told Remus about it! Why else would Remus make the comment about Harry becoming a “man?” Harry was about to object to Remus’ remarks, to defend himself, but mostly to defend Hermione’s honor, when Remus walked forward and hugged him.
“Happy Birthday, Harry!” said Remus affectionately. “It’s your seventeenth birthday, and according to Wizarding society, you’re a man.” Harry felt a wave of relief pass through his body, Remus didn’t know! Tonks must not have told him about the situation that she had found Harry and Hermione in. “So today is your day, Mr. Potter! We’re off to Diagon Alley.”
“Let me just get some things from my room before we head out,” said Hermione nervously, as she dashed up the stairs to her room.
Several minutes later, after Hermione had inconspicuously changed into some fresh clothes, the group headed to the Headmistress’ office to use the floo. Harry exited the floo into The Leaky Cauldron by gracefully falling flat on his face. Tonks casually stepped over his body and helped the young wizard up from the ground. Harry looked into her bright, black eyes and still saw that devilish look, as if Tonks was waiting for the most embarrassing moment to make a rude comment about what she had seen earlier.
“You really need to learn how to land better, Harry,” Tonks offered almost innocently. It was almost innocent, because Harry could tell that she had desperately wanted to say something else, something less than “innocent.” Maybe something like: “Yeah, my knees tend to get weak after a good roll in the hay as well…”
As they walked out of the Leaky Caldron, Hermione whispered into Harry’s ear: “I swear, I thought that Tonks was going to say something crude back there when you fell out of the floo. Could you imagine how embarrassing it would be if she did say something, especially in front of all those people?”
Harry nodded his head in agreement.
The group spent a good three hours at Madame Malkin’s robe shopping (Harry only needed fifteen minutes to find his dress robes, the rest of the time was used by Hermione trying to decide between a lilac dress and a mauve one). Harry made a grievous error halfway through the second hour of what he called “The Great Purple Debate”: he made the suggestion that maybe Hermione should try on something in pink. Hermione was deeply offended at such a suggestion. How Harry didn’t know she looked wretched in pink was beyond her. She never wore pink!
After Harry’s grievous faux pas, they went to Flourish and Blotts where, unsurprisingly, Harry lost track of Hermione somewhere in the Arithmancy section. After Harry had passed some time by skimming through several books on defense, he found Hermione in a dark and dusty corner of the shop, with her nose buried in a book that had to have been heavier than she was. As the sun set on an exhausting day, the foursome headed back to the Leaky Caldron for Harry’s birthday dinner. For dessert, since they couldn’t go to Florean Fortescue’s seeing how Voldemort had developed a wicked sweet tooth and kidnapped the ice cream maker, they had to try Tom’s attempts at ice cream.
“Have a go at this one, folks,” Tom announced, as he placed four bowls filled with scoops of ice cream made up of several colors in front of the group. “Made it meself this afternoon.”
Harry, being a brave Gryffindor (except when it came to dealing with zombies), was the first to sample the multi-colored confection. The birthday boy nodded his head in approval; it tasted like a delicious mixture of chocolate and strawberries. Tom beamed with pride before turning away and heading back to the bar.
“What’s it taste like, Harry?” Hermione asked dubiously, as she eyed a bright pink ripple wedged in-between two forest green ripples.
“Chocolate and strawberries,” answered Harry.
“Oh,” Tonks squealed while spooning up a blue, orange, and what appeared to be black ripples of ice cream. “I love strawberries and chocolate!”
Both Remus and Hermione followed suit as Tonks ate her first spoonful.
“That’s funny,” stated Remus as he worked the frozen dessert in his mouth. “I taste caramel.”
“I taste peanut butter,” offered Hermione as she scooped another spoonful.
A bit perplexed by his friends’ tasting something completely different than he, Harry tried another spoonful. His taste buds sensed chocolate with a hint of strawberries at first, then, slowly, a new and somewhat peculiar taste entered his mouth: prunes. Before he could spit out the nasty combination of flavors, Tonks announced: “Merlin, I’m getting maple syrup flavor now!”
“I think the green color is lobster, and the yellow ripple is raw bread dough!” Hermione stated as she discreetly spit the ice cream into her napkin. Harry noted that she had a very similar distasteful look on her face as the one she had right after she gave him his “birthday present” earlier.
Harry and Tonks copied Hermione’s lead by spitting the remnants of the frozen dessert into their napkins while Remus continued to shovel the ice cream into his mouth.
“Remus, love, how can you eat that?” Tonks asked, obviously disgusted.
“I turn into a wolf every month,” explained Remus. “In wolf form, I sometimes eat my own fecal waste. This is an improvement.”
“Not by much,” added Harry.
After they had their dessert, or rather, after Remus finished their desserts for them, the group flooed back to Hogwarts.
“Remus, do you know if the school will be in session for the next term?” asked Hermione as they walked toward the Gryffindor Common Room.
“It’s still up in the air,” stated Remus. “The members of the Board of Governors are still debating.”
“And right now, they’re leaning toward shutting the school down,” Tonks added glumly.
“But, why?” Hermione implored. “Surely a Headmaster has died before. And the school didn’t close when Grindelwald was in power!”
“So why close the school now?” Harry completed for Hermione.
“Yes, Headmasters have died while in office before, but one has never been murdered during term, and on school grounds,” explained Remus. “Making the situation even worse is that Albus was murdered by another teacher…”
The group spent the rest of the journey to the Common Room in silence. Harry pondered sullenly what would’ve happened if he had been able to break through Dumbledore’s Full Body Bind. Would he have been able to help the ailing Headmaster? Could he have saved the old man’s life? ‘Not likely,’ Harry realized. He probably would’ve been killed along with Dumbledore.
Upon entering the dimly-lit Common Room, Remus asked, “Harry, would you light the fire, please?”
“Sure thing,” replied Harry while drawing his wand. After aiming at the dark hearth, Harry muttered, “Incendio,” casting only a small amount of his power into the fire charm.
Harry, along with everyone else in the room, had expected a normal sized fireball (no larger than a snitch) to shoot out of the tip of his wand. They were all shocked when a huge fireball, nearly a meter in diameter, erupted out of Harry’s wand! Not only did the hearth ignite, but the mantle and a large portion of the wall surrounding the stone fireplace caught on fire as well.
Harry, Hermione, Remus, and Tonks all stared dumbly at the growing inferno. After two or three seconds, Hermione, Remus, and Tonks turned their attention to Harry, that is to say they stared dumbly at the bespectacled wizard. It was only after the ceiling had caught on fire that the foursome snapped out of their stupor and used their wands to put out the fire.
“Blimey, Harry!” Tonks exclaimed. “You didn’t have to use that much power!”
“I didn’t…” murmured Harry. “At least, I think I didn’t.”
After putting out the fire, Remus and Tonks sat on the couch.
“Have a seat you two,” Remus requested. Harry really didn’t want to spend more time with Remus. Not that he didn’t normally enjoy Remus’ company. But right now, Harry wanted nothing more than to sneak off into a secluded spot and practice his newfound skills concerning his Parselmouth abilities and Hermione’s nether region. Unfortunately, Harry’s plans of ravishing Hermione were dashed when Remus said in a serious tone: “We need to have a talk.”
At Remus’ comment, Harry and Hermione shared a concerned look. Would their old Defense professor chastise them for their actions? Or, would Remus give them the dreaded ‘Sex Talk’? Harry imagined an awkward Remus trying his best to give him the ‘Talk.’
‘Now,’ Harry heard Remus’ voice in his head, ‘sometimes a unicorn meets a Hippogriff… and… ah… sometimes the Hippogriff likes the unicorn in a very… special way… And if the hippogriff is lucky and the Unicorn likes him back… and she doesn’t have a headache at the time… Something… err… wonderful happens…’
“It’s suddenly dawned on me that no one has talked to you about…” Remus paused, searching for the proper word. Harry’s blood chilled, Remus was going to talk to him about… it! “No one has talked to you about… your folks.”
Harry plopped down in an arm chair with both a sense of relief (because Remus wasn’t going to talk about sex) and curiosity. Remus was correct: no one had bothered to actually sit Harry down and talk to him about his parents before.
“Now it’s true, your father was arrogant during our first few years at Hogwarts,” Remus began. “And he could be… mean, but the people to whom he was mean to usually deserved it.”
“I saw in Snape’s pensieve that Dad just hexed him, for no reason at all,” Harry said dejectedly.
“I’ve been thinking about that incident for a while now. Your father didn’t start that confrontation.” Remus informed him.
“But I saw it,” Harry argued. “Snape was sitting there minding his own business…”
“Severus Snape was, and is, a conniving, self-righteous, bigot,” Remus stated. “He started that particular confrontation the previous day, by hiding in the shadows and hexing your father. Snape was always following us around, trying to catch us in our misdeeds so that he could get us in trouble. And when he couldn’t catch us in the act, he would jinx or hex one of us; usually James.
“I remember it quite clearly. The day before that incident, James was hit with a Confundus Charm right as we started our Potion OWLs. The entire test, James kept tipping his cauldron over and Snape would laugh uproariously. James ended up failing the test simply because Snape wanted to be the best in the class and James was his only competition.”
“So, did Snape use the Confundus on Mum as well?” asked Harry.
“Why would he have?” Remus questioned with a befuddled look on his face. “Snape didn’t see her as competition. Lily was absolute rubbish at Potions.”
“But Slughorn told me that Mum was one of the best!” Harry said. “The finest he’d ever seen!”
“I’m sure you know this by now, Harry. Slughorn loves to be around famous and popular people,” explained Remus. “And he’s never had a student as famous as you are Harry. Most likely Slughorn told you lies about Lily and her potions prowess in an attempt to get you to think of him as a connection to your parents. That way, he would be able to continue to ply you to join his menagerie of famous people. He probably used Lily because Slughorn held a grudge against James. Slughorn made sure there were no questions about his attitude toward your father. He decided that James’ poor showing during the OWLs meant that your father had been cheating his entire school career. Slughorn took that as a personal attack against his honor; he refused to acknowledge James ever again. Besides, look at it this way Harry: if Lily truly was the best potions student Slughorn had ever met, wouldn’t Snape have rubbed that fact in your face as a comparison to your abilities? He definitely wouldn’t have missed any more opportunities to humiliate you, would he?
“No, your mother’s specialty was in Charms,” concluded Remus. “Lily was a very special woman, even when we were just kids. She was the first girl who wasn’t impressed by James’ charm, nor was she intimidated by his antics. I think that’s how he first became attracted to her. Lily helped James mature into a good and decent man.”
Remus continued for hours, talking to Harry not just about his parents, but Sirius as well. Some stories were enlightening, others, bittersweet. But most of the stories centered on James’ sense of humor.
“The night after you were born,” Remus said while laughing, “James told Sirius that he was your godfather. Well, Sirius was so proud that he Apparated right to the Leaky Cauldron and announced to everyone there the happy news! So there he was, standing on the bar no less, shouting at the top of his lungs that he, Sirius Black, was Harry Potter’s godfather! The only problem was that your father discretely placed a Transparency Charm on Sirius’ clothes before he Apparated away without Sirius noticing! Let me tell you, everyone there got an eyeful of Sirius that night!”
Remus was about to start another story when Hermione unsuccessfully tried to stifle a yawn and Tonks let out an unladylike snore. Remus checked the clock above the mantle (the clock which had to be repaired because of Harry’s supercharged fireball) and saw that it was a quarter to one in the morning.
“Oh, dear, it looks like I’ve kept you up long enough,” Remus announced. “We have a big day tomorrow, so off to bed everyone.” Tonks chose this time to let out another loud, rafter-rattling snore. “Everyone except Tonks. No need for her to go to bed, she’s already asleep.”
Harry didn’t care how late it was; he wanted to stay up the rest of the night, just so he could hear more stories about his parents. The young wizard was about to protest when both Remus and Hermione let out yawns.
“We’ll have plenty of time to catch up later, Harry.” Remus told Harry and patted him reassuringly on the shoulder. Harry nodded his head in agreement.
“Good night, you two,” said Remus and he pulled out his wand. With a few simple wand movements, the older wizard conjured a small cot next to the couch where the pink haired witch was sleeping.
Harry and Hermione shared a look; they both knew that they wouldn’t be able to “experiment” with Remus and Tonks in the Common Room. So they bid each other a simple good night and turned to their respective rooms. Harry was about to walk up the stairs when a sudden, uncontrollable urge came over him: he had to kiss Hermione good night. He didn’t care if Remus found out. Harry turned around and saw Hermione was about to walk up the stairs leading up to her room. He also saw Remus watching him. The latter smiled slightly at Harry and, luckily for Harry, turned his attention to fluffing his pillow. Harry rushed over to Hermione and as silently as he could, spun her around and before she could utter a sound, placed his lips to hers. Nothing mattered to Harry anymore, not Remus, not Tonks, not Voldemort or his stupid Horcuxes, and certainly not the world. All that mattered to Harry at that moment was Hermione, she was his everything.
While the two teens were kissing, Harry could swear that he felt two pairs of eyes watching them. He couldn’t care less; he was kissing the most wonderful woman in the world. When they finally broke their kiss, Harry turned to see Tonks still sleeping on the couch, but Remus was still diligently fluffing his pillow. Harry quietly made his way up to his dorm room.
Harry wasn’t ready for sleep just yet, so he decided to read another chapter from his ‘special book.’ Harry pulled The Magic of Making Love out of his bag and opened it to a random page near the middle. The chapter that Harry had gone to was entitled: “Pleasure Pressure Points: The Touch of Love.” Unfortunately, this chapter didn’t contain any interesting magical photos, but it did have numerous diagrams and drawings. According to the diagrams and specifications, a witch had “pleasure pressure points” all over her body. If a wizard were to touch one of these “points” and gently force his magic through it, the empowered touch would give the witch physical pleasure. The text stated the different points would elicit different levels of pleasure. One example stated that if the wizard were to gently, yet steadily, force his magic through a point of the small of the back, the witch would rapidly orgasm. As Harry continued reading he noticed that the range in the physical reaction was truly stunning. According to the book if the same wizard were to use the same technique on a pressure point on the back of the witch’s hand, she would experience only the amount of pleasure equal to that of a kiss, pleasurable, but not orgasmic. Harry read and reread the chapter, skipping over theories and benefits, trying to remember the most of the “pleasure pressure points” as possible.
Harry awoke in the morning with his ‘special book’ open and lying on his chest. Apparently, he had fallen asleep while rereading “Pleasure Pressure Points: The Touch of Love” for the fourth time. Harry noticed the clock and saw that he had less than an hour before he had to get to the Burrow for Bill and Fleur’s wedding! He took a rapid shower and had dressed so fast that he almost forgot to put on his shoes. Harry hopped down the stairs to the Common Room while trying to tie his shoes at the same time. When he got to the Common Room, Harry found Hermione waiting for him.
Once more, Harry forgot to breathe. To say that Hermione looked stunning in her red and gold gown (apparently, “The Great Purple Debate” was lost by both lilac and mauve when this little red and gold number entered the fray) was an understatement. The neckline of the gown showed just a touch of enticing cleavage and the fabric hugged Hermione’s form. Her hair was tastefully done up in a loose bun, which accentuated her beautiful smile and eyes.
“Hello Harry,” Hermione greeted him. “You look very handsome.”
Harry tried to return the compliment by saying that she was a ‘stunning vision of beauty.’ Unfortunately, she was such a stunning vision of beauty that Harry found it very difficult to speak properly. The best compliment that he could voice was: “guh… uhh… muh… err… wow!” He ended this wonderfully poetic statement with what would be best described as a soft gurgling noise.
Hermione blushed at Harry’s attempted compliment and after a moment, became very serious.
“Harry, about Ron…” she began. “I think I should be the one to tell him about… us.”
Harry suddenly felt very bad. He hadn’t thought about Ron at all in the past two days. He dreaded how Ron would feel when he found out that Harry had gotten together with the girl he fancied. But Ron was his best mate, and in Harry’s mind, he should be the one to break the news to Ron.
“No, I’ll do it,” Harry stated. “He’s my best mate…”
“And I was the one dating him,” Hermione interrupted. “I thought about this all night, Harry. I’ve already planned on what to tell him.”
“Are you sure?” Harry asked unsure with the plan.
“Yes, I am,” Hermione said confidently. “But, could you be with me when I tell him?”
“Yes, anything for you Hermione,” Harry said and stroked her arm reassuringly.
A gentle cough drew the two teens’ attention to Remus who was standing a few feet away from them. He had his ever-present kind and patient look in his eyes, while Tonks, who was standing arm in arm with Remus, still had that unsettling devilish look in her eyes. Harry shivered at that look and wondered when Tonks would spring into action by saying something like: “Cor, Harry, you’ve got some dribble on your chin… oh wait, that’s just Hermione’s dribble.”
“If you two are ready, we’ll go to Minerva’s office and portkey to the Burrow,” stated Remus.
After greeting McGonagall in the Headmistress’ office, the group circled around an old tea kettle. McGonagall gently tapped the kettle and said “Portus.”
Everyone placed their finger on the portkey and Harry prepared himself for the familiar tug behind his navel. Within seconds, Harry felt the tug of portkey travel. Everyone landed on the grassy knoll behind the Burrow with elegance and style, that is, everyone except Harry. The young wizard landed painfully on a rock; unfortunately for Harry it wasn’t a rock. It was a very angry and perturbed Gnome.
“GET IT OFF OF ME!” Harry bellowed as the tiny creature tried to bite and claw at his face.
“Pestis Avolo!” Remus incanted and the pesky Gnome rocketed off of Harry’s face. Hermione quickly helped Harry to his feet.
Harry gazed in wonder at the field behind the Burrow. It had been magically transformed into something out of a fairy tale. Beautiful and brightly colored flowers and plants bordered where the guest were to be seated. Scores of chairs, each one different and unique from the other, as if several people conjured them but didn’t bother to try to make them look alike, were placed in rows in front of a large dais. The dais, where Harry assumed the ceremony would take place, was decorated with intricate lace curtains draped over ivory colored arches and the same colorful flowers that surrounded the guests.
“Remus? Remus Lupin is that you?” a blonde witch called out. “I haven’t seen you since our days at Hogwarts!”
“Chrysanthemum Hamilton, it’s been ages,” Remus replied. The former Marauder turned to Harry and Hermione and said: “You two find some seats; I want to talk to Chrysanthemum and introduce Tonks.”
Harry and Hermione silently took their seats in the back row of the groom’s side and both watched as the guests began to trickle in. At first, they didn’t recognize anyone who had shown up, most of the early guests appeared to be around Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s age. Harry heard Tonks let out a snort and a chuckle and saw that she and Remus were having a laugh while talking to the witch named Chrysanthemum.
“I’m terrified that Tonks will say something embarrassing about us,” Hermione breathed in Harry’s ear. “I just know she’s waiting for the most opportune time for her to do it. And it’ll be the most horrible moment possible for us.”
Harry gulped and nodded his head in agreement.
The pair’s attention was drawn toward a rather large group of people. Some of this boisterous group were carrying magical cameras while others were being very rude by shouting out questions.
“… How well do you know the bride and groom?” asked a man with a whiney tone as three flashes erupted from different cameras.
“Is it standard procedure now to attend every wedding?” a woman with a shrill voice questioned, and four more flashes went off.
“Please, show some respect!” a booming voice commanded, a voice that Harry recognized as belonging to Rufus Scrimgeour. The crowd of reporters stepped back and revealed the Minister of Magic. “Arthur Weasley has been a loyal employee for the Ministry for many years. I came by to give him and his family my regards on this wonderful day,” the Minister stated, a little too mechanically, as if he had been coached to say that exact phrase. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go and find my seat.”
The pack of reporters sulked off to stand behind the rows of chairs. A short rotund man with a walrus-like mustache pushed his way through the dejected reporters.
“What’s that ponce doing here?” Hermione hissed in Harry’s ear after seeing the latest arrival.
“Simple, it’s a social gathering,” explained Harry, sourly, “and Slughorn is nothing more than an attention whore who revels in these situations.”
“Sorry about that,” Remus stated as he and Tonks took the seats next to Harry. “But I haven’t seen Chrysanthemum for ages. She was the most popular girl in the year ahead of us, and we used to always prank her.”
Soft music started to play and the guest became very quiet. All eyes turned to the back row, towards the Burrow, where the bridal party would be coming out of shortly.
The first of the bride’s maids and groom’s men to exit the house was none other than Ron and Ginny. Normally Harry would’ve thought that the dress looked pretty and that the pale green color suited her. But Harry noticed that the gown had a plunging neckline that revealed her humble cleavage. During the last school year, Harry would have been aroused at such a sight. However after the epiphany where Harry realized that Ginny bore a striking resemblance to his /mother/, he now found the sight of Ginny’s flesh disturbing.
As the siblings walked up the isle, arm in arm, Ginny spotted Harry straight away and acted cool and aloof; as if seeing him was nothing important, something that she was almost bored with. A ridiculously wide grin stretched across Ron’s face when he saw Hermione.
“Oh, no Ron,” Hermione moaned. “Don’t do anything foolish.”
“What makes you think he’ll do anything like that?” asked Harry.
“Because he’s Ron,” Hermione answered simply.
Whereas Ginny acted cool when she saw Harry, Ron’s reaction was somewhat different; some may even be as bold as to say that his reaction was the complete opposite of cool and aloof. The red-haired wizard hopped up and down waving at the brunette witch.
“Hermione! Hermione! Hi!” Ron called out in a very, very loud stage whisper, as he continued his antics to get her attention. “You look smashing!”
Hermione groaned pitifully as nearly every guest turned their attention toward her and began to whisper and speak amongst themselves.
The next couple to walk out of the Burrow was Fred and an unknown woman, more than likely one of Fleur’s friends. They were quickly followed by Charlie and Gabriele, both of whom looked striking.
Harry and Hermione turned their attention toward the bridal stage and saw that Bill had already taken his place with a Vicar standing next to him. Ron escorted Ginny to her spot on the bride’s side and then walked to his position on the groom’s side. When he took his place, Ron once again waved at Hermione. Harry overheard a witch a few rows ahead of them comment at Ron’s wave saying; “That young man up there and the girl behind us must be very much in love.”
Harry thought that Hermione looked like she was about to faint, her face was as white as a sheet and her body was completely rigid.
After Bill, Gabriele, Fred, and his partner took their places, the music changed to the wedding march. All eyes (except for three people: Ron, who couldn’t take his eyes off of Hermione, Hermione, who was still frozen like she was hit with a Full Body Bind, and Harry, who kept looking worriedly between his two best friends) turned to see Fleur, who was a vision of beauty, exit the house with her father.
The Vicar gave a speech about soul mates and how Bill and Fleur were lucky enough to find such love between each other. Harry noted that Ron had a hopeful look in his eyes as he looked at Hermione while the Vicar spoke of soul mates. Hermione was still as pale and rigid as before, but Harry could actually hear her teeth grinding together. Ron was making her so nervous that Harry no longer feared that his beautiful friend would faint anymore, he was now worried that she would have an aneurism. Evidently, Hermione was very worried about the upcoming “talk” with Ron about their recent developments. That, as well as being obviously quite angry that Ron was embarrassing her, as well as himself, as he continually waved at her from the dais during the ceremony.
Harry felt that he needed to calm her down, for her own good, being so tense could not be good for her. That’s when Harry remembered the section in his ‘special book’ on Pleasure Points. He was certain that his new-found skills could help calm Hermione down.
Harry placed the pad of his right thumb on the back of Hermione’s left hand, which, according to his favorite book, was the location of one of the lesser Pleasure Points. Slowly, Harry rubbed her hand in a circular motion. After a moment, Harry started to gently push his magic through Hermione’s hand. Almost instantaneously, Harry noticed that Hermione began to relax and loosen up a bit. A small smile appeared on her face that told Harry that she was appreciative of his efforts. But he could tell that Hermione was still very tense. Harry decided that to help Hermione, he needed to tap into his power core for more energy.
“Do you, Bill, take Fleur to be you wife?” asked the Vicar.
Harry found it slightly ironic that it was Hermione who was the one who first told Harry that he was an unusually powerful wizard. Judging how tense Hermione appeared, Harry needed all the help he could get to get through to her.
“I do,” responded Bill with pride.
As he continued to massage her hand while pushing his magic into Hermione, Harry started to concentrate on his power core: love. He focused on happy, even loving memories about Hermione and himself. He recalled all the times she has been there for him, all the times she showed genuine concern about him, and compassion for him.
Before the Vicar could ask Fleur the same question, Hermione slumped slightly in her chair. A rosy bloom appeared on her face and exposed skin of her neck and torso. Harry took pride in being able to help Hermione relax, and he decided that it would do her some good to relax even more.
“Do you, Fleur, take Bill to be your husband?” the Vicar asked of the lovely bride.
“I do,” Fleur replied with joyful tears in her eyes.
To make Hermione even more relaxed and peaceful, Harry focused his thoughts on the events of the previous morning, when he strove so hard to give her pleasure. He remembered what she tasted like on his tongue, how wonderful her legs felt wrapped around his head, and how she called out his name when she had an orgasm. That’s when Harry realized that he may have gone a little too far tapping into his power core.
The rosy bloom quickly turned into a bright red color as Hermione’s breath became labored and she had to bite her lip to stop a moan of pleasure. Tiny beads of sweat blossomed all over her skin Hermione locked eyes with Harry; the look was a combination of desire, of wishing for this feeling to continue, as well as a questioning look, as if she was asking him how he was doing this with a simple touch? A deceptively simple question, to which Harry had no answer. According to the segments of the book that he read, the Pleasure Points he decided to focus on should’ve only given her a little pleasure; Harry had specifically chosen the area designed to impart the pleasure equivalent to a simple kiss. But somehow, Hermione was receiving a lot more than just ‘a little pleasure.’ Harry was in so much shock that he didn’t realize that he was still continuing to massage Hermione’s hand’s Pleasure Points while simultaneously pushing his love-based magic into her.
Harry could faintly smell the distinctive musky odor of Hermione’s juices. Harry looked in shock and surprise as a small wet spot appeared on Hermione’s gown at her lap. He reckoned that she must be flowing right about now. Harry could also see that her nipples had become quite erect as well, even through her bra and the fabric of her gown ‘Carmella’ and ‘Natasha’ looked as if they were about to break free.
After the newly married couple had kissed, the Vicar turned to the assembled family and guests. “If you’re new to a magical wedding, like some of our Muggle-born guest,” he began, “I would like to explain a tradition we have. This tradition is based on the idea of community. At this time, I would like to call on any guest to speak up and give their blessings to the new couple.”
Unfortunately, it was at this point that Hermione lost a bit of her self control and roughly kicked the chair in front of her. The old wizard who was occupying that chair stood up in surprise.
“Ah, Mr. Oseran,” the Vicar said, indicating the old man who just stood up because Hermione had kicked his chair. “What would you like to say to the bride and groom?”
“Um… err… I… ah…” Mr. Oseran stammered. He obviously didn’t have anything to say, but he couldn’t just tell that to the Vicar and sit down, now could he? Unfortunately for Mr. Oseran and Mrs. Oseran, who was mortified by her husband’s following statement, the best he could come up with was “Enjoy making sprogs, you two.”
Every single person in attendance drew a collective gasp at Mr. Oseran’s “blessing.” Although Harry was fairly certain that Fred and George found the scene to be hilarious.
“Thank you Mr. Oseran,” the Vicar said, a little taken back at the old man’s comment. “Would anyone else like to add their blessings?”
It was as if the fates had a personal grudge against Hermione. Because it was at this most inauspicious time that the building ecstasy hit Hermione like a rampaging Blast-Ended Skrewt.
“OH GOD, YES!” Hermione cried out at the top of her lungs.
“My, what an enthusiastic young witch!” the Vicar declared. “Please, my dear, stand up.”
Hermione’s face was a mask of fear and trepidation; she looked to Harry for support. Her eyes pleaded with Harry, asking him what should she do, what should she say? Harry, being the heroic wizard that he was, got up and helped her stand. Regrettably for Hermione, that’s about all the support that he could muster at that time.
“I-I-I-I would like,” began Hermione, unsteady in her own words. “I would like to give the couple my blessing… ?” She somehow ended the statement as a question.
“Thank you, dear,” the Vicar said, oblivious to what Hermione had just been through. “Anyone else?”
As another person stood up, and gave a real blessing this time, Harry and Hermione sat back down. As discreetly as he could, Harry waved his wand over Hermione’s lap and performed a Cleansing Charm.
Tonks was having some difficulty breathing; she had stuffed her fist into her mouth in an attempt to stop herself from laughing. Tears streamed down her face as she looked at the two teens. Harry knew with certainty that she would never let them live this down.
“Hermione, are you alright?” Remus asked with genuine concern in his voice. Harry noticed that the concern in his voice didn’t quite reach his eyes, though. His eyes showed something akin to mirth.
“I’m fine, Remus,” Hermione answered, obviously not noticing the mirthful look in his eyes.
After four more people gave their best wishes to Bill and Fleur, one of which was a blubbering Molly Weasley, the Vicar called an end to the ceremony by saying, “If everyone to be as so kind, please head over to the reception area.”
As a group, all the guests walked toward the area indicated and came upon another decorated field. Mind you, the entire time everyone was walking, Ron kept waving and calling out to Hermione, trying to get her attention, which only seemed to further embarrass Hermione. There was another elevated stage, much like the one where the ceremony was performed, but this stage had a long table on it. Harry assumed that the members of the bridal party were to sit there. In front of the stage was a wooden dance floor. And in front of the dance floor, dozens of tables were strewn about on the grassy field. Each of the tables had four settings and each table was beautifully decorated with flowers as their centerpiece. In the middle of the center piece, a tented piece of purple paper stood out.
“We’re over here you two,” Remus called out as he held a chair out for Tonks. Harry followed the older wizard’s example and held out a chair for Hermione. Three tables away, Harry saw Scrimgeour sit down. He wondered what such an important political figure was doing at the Weasley’s wedding.
“Why’s the Minister here, anyway?” asked Hermione, voicing Harry’s question.
“He’s probably trying to bolster public moral,” informed Tonks. “You know the drill, reinforcing the fact that we should continue with our normal lives even though there’s a war going on.”
“Did he bring any extra security?” asked Harry while he scanned the parameter of the field in hopes of finding guards.
“There has to be,” stated Hermione as she too joined Harry in his visual search for security. “What if the Death Eaters attack? It would be an opportune time for it. This would be too perfect a target to pass up.”
“Well, the Ministry has taken steps if such an attack happens,” said Remus as he pointed out the purple flyer that was set at the middle of the center piece. Hermione picked up the flyer and Harry leaned in close so that he could read along with her.
The very official looking flyer stated:
“In case of an attack by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and/or his followers (Death Eaters, Werewolves, Giants, Vampires, Inferi), Harry J. Potter (AKA The-Boy-Who-Lived, The-Chosen-One, and Dumbledore’s Man Through and Through) will orally stimulate Hermione J. Granger in hopes of a powerful bout of accidental magic wherein the attacking forces will be hit with a series of Hovering Charms and be rendered helpless.
“If the bout of accidental magic doesn’t occur, then at least our last remaining moments on this planet will be entertaining as we watch Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger in their efforts.
“As a precaution, the Ministry recommends that the guest surrounding Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger should cast an Umbrella Charm as Ms. Granger is inclined to get very wet and things around her tend to get thoroughly soaked.”
Harry broke out in a cold sweat. He looked at Hermione and saw that the witch was trembling and her eyes were about to pop out of her head.
“Quite ingenious actually, if you think about it” Remus stated. “Voldemort would never expect such a defense.”
Remus leaned over to the table next to them and asked the grey haired wizard who was reading his own pamphlet; “What do you think about that?”
“It looks delightful,” the man replied as he licked his lips hungrily.
Harry looked around him and saw that nearly every guest was pointing at the pamphlets and talking amongst themselves in jolly tones. Harry and Hermione shared a mortified look. Without speaking to each other, they both shot out of their chairs. Hermione dashed to the left while Harry ran to the right. Harry snatched the purple parchment from an old witch’s hands and quickly read it. He almost fainted when he got to the line “… will orally stimulate Hermione J. Granger…”
Looking up, Harry found a very green faced Hermione reading a copy of the pamphlet on another table. Hermione looked as if she was about to get sick, faint, and cry (maybe not in that order necessarily). With her lip trembling, Hermione looked at Harry pitifully. Harry walked up to Hermione and threw his arms around her in a comforting hug.
“Don’t worry, Hermione,” he said in what he hoped was a soothing manner. “We’ll get through this.”
“This will be worst then that time Skeeter wrote those horrible things about me,” she cried miserably in his arms.
“Excuse me,” the old witch that Harry had taken the pamphlet away from said in an angry tone. “But I would like my menu back!”
The woman pulled the paper from Harry’s fingers and marched back to her seat muttering about how rude he was.
“Did… did she say /’menu’/?” Hermione asked with her face still buried in Harry’s chest.
Harry looked to the table next to them and saw a man raise the pamphlet to his mouth and state, “Roast duck, please.” He handed the offending paper to the woman next to him who repeated the process and said, “Trout, please.” Within seconds, delicious looking dishes of duck and fish appeared out of thin air in front of the couple.
Harry and Hermione’s attention was drawn back to their table as they heard riotous laughter. They saw Tonks doubled over, pounding her fist on the table as she snorted in an as unladylike way as possible. Remus, too, was howling with laughter. For a second, Harry wondered what could make Tonks and Remus laugh during this very upsetting time for both Harry and Hermione. Their lives were ruined, and the Metamorphmagus and the former Marauder were laughing like…
The former Marauder…
Harry released Hermione and stomped over to Remus growling, “/You son of a/…”
To be continued.

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