Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor
Chapter Three
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. Also, the smut is going to be a bit more graphic than last time, so if you don’t like reading about sex, don’t read this fic.
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 Three Summary: Harry and Hermione spend time studying… and they happen to read a book or two as well
Harry woke up the next day to birds singing a happy song. Of course the effing birds were singing happily; the sun had just risen, and they, being creatures that loved rising early, sang with all their hearts to the morning sun.
The effing birds had interrupted a dream. Normally, Harry would be overjoyed at the concept of having his traditional dreams interrupted. However, this was a particularly good dream; Harry and Hermione were romping around again, and this time, he was about to see Hermione’s boobs without her Lousy Damn Blouse and her God-Damn Lousy Bra. Even though it was just a dream, Harry was going to see what Hermione’s nipples looked like. But no, the effing birds had to wake him up from his wonderful wet-dream by starting a fucking tweet fest!
Harry woke with a pitiful groan and tried to shield his eyes from the blinding rays of the sun. Getting out of bed, he resisted the temptation to open his window and fire of a couple of Stunners in hopes of hitting some of the effing birds. So Harry satisfied his urge to cause the effing birds some discomfort by stretching out one of his arms and gave a two-fingered salute to all birds in general. After his shower, he trounced down to the common room and his sour mood suddenly vanished.
There was Hermione, curled up on her favorite chair with a book in her lap. The early morning sunlight shined through her hair, giving her the appearance of an angel with a glowing halo. Harry felt a sudden warmth travel through his body as he saw his friend; the friend that he now realized was quite beautiful in his eyes. He noticed that he had a bounce to his step, and tried to correct it before Hermione saw him; real men don’t bounce, real men strut. Harry had learned this important fact from the late night conversations with his dorm mates about the fairer sex and what they liked; he was told with certainty that women like a manly strut, among other things such as flowers, chocolates, and other “girly” things. He had listened closely to Dean and Seamus when they described how real men walked. As he bounced in an un- manly way toward Hermione, he tried to strut the way his friends had described. Unfortunately, he was unable to completely counteract the bounce with his emerging strutting abilities and ended up with a saunter. But in Harry’s defense, it was a manly saunter, not the effeminate way Blaise Zabini walked.
“Morning, Hermione,” Harry greeted the witch with an incredibly silly grin plastered on his face.
“Good morning, Harry,” she returned the greeting with an equally smitten smile.
“About last night…” began Harry while he shoved his hands in his pockets to hide how nervous he was. “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you about… you know.”
“It’s okay, Harry. It was the first time for both of us,” Hermione replied and patted the seat next to her. Harry took the invitation and the two teens cuddled. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”
The couple preceded to have a nice fifteen-minute snog session where they playfully explored each other’s bodies. Harry was even so bold to open Hermione’s blouse. Unfortunately she was wearing a white cotton bra so he still didn’t get to see what her nipples looked like. But this didn’t stop him playing with her boobs mind you. It was an activity that Harry had become quite fond of, he loved how her mounds felt in his hands and her loved the way Hermione moaned and purred as he cupped, squeezed, caressed, kissed, licked, and suckled on them, even through the accursed bra. During the snog and boob fondling session, ‘Harry, Jr.’ stirred only a little, apparently the appendage was still worn-out from the very welcomed workout it received the previous evening.
After both teens had become completely flushed, Hermione pulled away and suggested, “We should really go and see McGonagall,” she stated, her lips red and puffy. “We have to ask her if we can stay in the castle.”
“Are you sure she’ll be up this early?” asked Harry as they walked hand in hand to the Headmistress’ office.
“I’m positive,” answered Hermione. The couple walked up to the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to McGonagall’s new quarters.
“Would you please tell the Headmistress we would like to see her?” Hermione requested of the stone sentinel.
“I’ll go fetch her,” the statue grumbled. After a moment or two, the gargoyle stepped to the side, and McGonagall rushed out into the hallway while trying to put on her dressing robe and brandishing her wand at the same time.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” the Headmistress demanded on the verge of panic.
“Nothing’s wrong, ma’am,” Hermione said, “We just wanted to ask you a question.”
“But the gargoyle told me it was an emergency!” McGonagall practically shouted. “He said that Potter was spewing blood from his mouth!”
Behind them, the gargoyle let out a grumbling chuckle.
“Oh, you cheeky bugger!” McGonagall cursed. “That’s the third time this week he’s pulled a prank on me! I swear, I’ll find a replacement if you don’t straighten up!” The Headmistress took a calming breath before turning her attention to the pair in front of her. “What can I do for you two?”
“We would like to ask a favor,” stated Hermione. Harry saw McGonagall’s eyes dart down and then back up. He glanced down and noticed the he and Hermione were still holding hands.
“And what would that favor be?” asked McGonagall with a saucy grin and a blush. Harry nearly went into shock at the sight; he had never imagined, nor wanted to imagine, what McGonagall would look like with a saucy grin. He loved and respected his mentor, but it truly frightened the young wizard to see such a grin stretched across her face. Harry had rarely seen the Headmistress with anything but a stern look upon her face and he was taken back. The sassy smile was very disturbing on McGonagall’s face. It made Harry feel very uncomfortable both physically and emotionally.
“You see, Harry has been, and will, be a target for Voldemort,” Hermione began, not noticing Harry’s current discomfort. “And Harry doesn’t really stand a chance against him. Not unless we get some training.”
“What would you suggest, Ms. Granger?”
“May we please stay here at the castle so that we can use the library and other facilities to train?” Hermione asked as if she had spent hours preparing the question. Knowing Hermione, that is probably exactly what she did. She more than likely had written several drafts of the question in her Day Planner and chose the one she thought would be best received.
“Yes, you may,” answered McGonagall. The Headmistress then added with a wry wink as she headed back up to her chambers, “But when you use the ‘other facilities’, please clean up after yourselves.”
“What do you think she meant by that?” Hermione asked, as the teens turned away from the now closed doorway. Harry replied mutely by holding up their clasped hands. “She saw, do you think she suspects…?” Hermione began to ask before answering herself. “Of course she does, otherwise she wouldn’t have used the ‘clean up’ reference.”
“Are we that messy?” asked Harry.
“I may not be, but you are,” replied Hermione with a wink.
After a quick breakfast, Harry and Hermione proceeded to the library.
“Alright, let’s just head straight to the Restricted Section and start reading up on some of the more powerful magics,” Hermione ordered.
Several hours later, Hermione had a very large stack of books that she’d labeled as being “potentially useful” and another, much smaller stack marked “worthless.” The “potentially useful” stack intimidated Harry; there were at least six-dozen books in that stack. How Hermione thought that the two of them could read all that material, let alone actually retain the knowledge, was beyond him. Harry, on the other hand, had skimmed through no more than four books and found nothing remotely helpful in his destined fight with Voldemort. He found two particularly powerful transfigurations where one could turn a wizard into a giant toad, and another which would turn a toad into tadpoles according to the illustration… Harry reread the entry and corrected himself, it wasn’t “tadpoles,” it was semen. Harry repressed a shudder as an image played out in his head of a man turning into a giant toad then into a large pool of spunk. Then he thought of Snape and figured that it would be a fitting end to the traitor. He marked the page for future study.
“This is going to take forever,” exclaimed Hermione. “If only we had something to go on. A weakness of Voldemort’s that you excel in…”
“Yeah, but I don’t see how ‘the power he knows not’ will help,” Harry said. “I always thought that bit was rubbish.”
Hermione lifted her gaze up from her book and her eyes burned a hole into Harry.
“What was that?” she asked impatiently.
“What was what?” Harry replied, taken back at her steely gaze.
“What did you say about the power Voldemort doesn’t have?”
“Oh, that,” Harry said relieved. He was worried that he had said something to upset Hermione. “It was just something mentioned in the silly prophesy.”
Hermione closed her book and was obviously trying to compose herself as she strummed her fingers on the cover of a discarded book.
“Do you mean to tell me that there was more to the prophesy than ‘me against him’ as you originally told me?” she asked very slowly, as if she was speaking to a dim-witted child.
“Just a bit,” Harry replied with more than a little touch of fear. Whenever Hermione had gotten this way in the past, Harry always knew that he was in for trouble. And usually, rightfully so.
“Like what?” The thinly veiled anger started to seep out of her body and Harry’s fear grew.
“Um… just that I have a power he doesn’t even know about and that um… he marked me as an equal,” Harry said rapidly. He had hoped that the faster he said the words, the less angry Hermione would be.
“And I take it you know what that power is,” stated Hermione as she rubbed her temples with her fingers.
“Love,” Harry replied.
“Love?” Hermione repeated disbelievingly.
“According to Dumbledore, at least.”
“Well, he wouldn’t have just made an assumption. Did he ever point out when you may have used ‘Love’ against Voldemort?” Hermione asked.
“Yeah, I accidentally tapped into it when Tom possessed me at the Ministry of Magic. I was able to hurt him; so much so that Dumbledore reckoned that he wouldn’t try to sneak into my mind again because of the pain he suffered.”
“Why… didn’t… you… tell… me… about…THAT!?!” Hermione demanded.
“It’s not important, not anymore,” argued Harry. “Not since Voldemort took my blood! My touch used to be able to cause him pain before his resurrection. But now, he has my blood in his veins, and he can touch me without hurting himself.”
“And when did your blood get taken, Harry?””
“Fourth year, as you bloody well know,” Harry replied irritably.
“And when were you possessed?” asked Hermione, a smile returning to her face. Apparently, she took a great amount of joy in seeing how long it would take Harry to catch up with her train of thought.
“Fifth year… oh, wait…” Harry paused. “When he possessed me in the Ministry of Magic, he already had my blood in his veins.”
“Harry, you may not be able to harm him just by touching him anymore,” explained Hermione, “but somehow, you were able to activate that power when he tried to possess you and you hurt him! You hurt him enough that you drove him away!”
Hermione got that look again, the look she got when her brain went into overdrive. After a moment she asked: “Can you think of any other time you tapped into the power of love? Not necessarily just against Voldemort.”
After a bit of thought, Harry offered, “Well, I don’t know if it’s love or not, but the two times I’ve used a Patronus against real Dementors could have been close.”
“Could you explain?” Hermione asked patiently.
“When I realized that it wasn’t my dad who cast the Stag Patronus I had seen, but me…” Harry said with his eyes closed, trying to concentrate on the memory from his third year. “I remembered thinking that I was going to leave the Dursely’s and live with Sirius. I was going to live with someone who cared for me.”
“That’s familial love,” Hermione explained. “That is the love of a family. You had inadvertently tapped into a form of love when you cast the Patronus.”
“And then the second time was when Dudley and I were attacked,” Harry continued. “Before I cast the Patronus, I remembered thinking about seeing you and Ron.”
“Platonic love, love of friends.”
“That’s about it,” Harry said with a shrug of his shoulders.
“What about Cho?” Hermione asked. “You did have a crush on her which is a form of affectionate love. And you did kiss her.”
“Oh, yeah” Harry said with a snap of his fingers. “When Snape was teaching me Occlumency, he was about to see an image of me and Cho kissing and I threw off his Legilimency attack for the first time, and it was without a wand or spell.”
“That’s very good,” Hermione complimented.
“And I entered his mind,” Harry continued, and Hermione’s jaw dropped. “I saw him as a kid hiding under a table as his parents fought.”
“You entered Snape’s mind without a wand or casting a spell?” Hermione asked. “He’s a skilled Occlumens, you shouldn’t have been able to do that! His defenses should have stopped you easily! That’s incredible, Harry! I think Dumbledore was correct. Think about it. Most wizards and witches can’t produce a corporeal Patronus, and even if they do, they would be able to drive away maybe one or two Dementors, like Remus did on the train. But when you thought about love in one way or another, you were able to drive away scores of Dementors. And look what you did with Snape; you easily broke through a skilled Occlumens’ shields and saw his memories, because you unknowingly tapped into your power of love. Apparently, when you access you power base, love, you are a very powerful wizard indeed!”
Harry blushed at her compliment. Hermione paused and worried her lip before continuing: “Harry, I know it’s a touchy subject, but could you tell me what you felt with Ginny?”
“Now I feel revulsion,” Harry answered, with only a minor shudder. “But during the time, I guess the best way to describe it would be to say it was like a scaly monster was living in my chest.”
“A scaly monster? That’s not love Harry; that sounds more like lust and jealousy!” Hermione cried victoriously. “No wonder you were so ineffectual last year!”
“Excuse me!” Harry blurted out. “/Ineffectual/?”
“Yes Harry, ineffectual,” Hermione repeated. “Remember, you told me the events of the cave. You panicked. Panicking is something you’ve never done before. Remember in first year, Hagrid had to pair you with Draco because he had already scared Neville. Hagrid knew that you wouldn’t panic. In second year, you faced a forty foot snake that could’ve killed you just by looking at you and you didn’t panic! You may have been frightened, that’s only normal. But you did not panic. In third year, you drove off scores of Dementors without panicking. When you were Portkeyed to the graveyard during the final task of the Tri-Wizard, you dueled with Voldemort, the most feared Dark Lord in decades and again you didn’t panic!
“But, when the Infiri attacked, you admitted that you completely forgot the simple flame hex. The same hex that Dumbledore had just reminded you about moments before. And then, when you were chasing after Snape and the Death Eaters, you couldn’t land even one hex on Snape. In previous encounters with Death Eaters, you’ve always been spectacular. You were able to Stun or incapacitate several Death Eaters when Voldemort resurrected himself as well as during the battle in the Department of Mysteries. You should’ve been able to deal with the zombies without freezing up, and you should have at least singed Snape.
“That has to prove that Dumbledore was right. Your power base is love!” Hermione continued. “All you strengths come from one form of love or another. But last year, you were lusting after Ginny. And that lust was detrimental to your power base. Lust is not love in any way shape or form! Lust is a mockery of love. That’s why you were acting so strangely last year.”
“Alright, fine, then. But why were you acting so strangely last year?” Harry shot back. He was angry with her because deep down, he knew she was right. “You dropped S.P.E.W. like it had meant nothing to you even though you were clearly obsessed about the cause for two years. You broke the rules when hexed another student just so Ron could stay on the Quidditch team. I realize that you’ve bent and broken the rules before, but the times you’ve done that, people’s lives were at risk. But this time, you broke the rules just to save Ron from embarrassment. And then you chastised me when you thought I might have cheated when I tricked Ron into believing that I gave him the Felix Felicis, doing the exact same thing you did: saving Ron from embarrassing himself. It also took you months to find out that Prince was related to Snape, something you normally would’ve found out in no time at all! Especially since you were so dead certain that Eileen Prince was somehow related to the damned Half-Blood Prince in my Potions Text. You only bothered to check on what happened to Eileen Prince after Snape admitted to being the Half-Blood Prince.”
Hermione hung her head in shame. Harry’s heart dropped roughly to his knees. “I’m sorry Hermione, I didn’t mean-”
“No, you’re right Harry. We both acted strangely last year,” Hermione interrupted. “And my own reasons were pretty much the same reasons as to why you acted oddly as well. I simply wanted to be loved. I wanted someone to hold my hand and kiss me. I wanted someone to say I’m pretty and to mean it. I wanted someone to think of me when I wasn’t around.
“All of the other girls in our year, and most of the younger ones as well, were already active in the dating scene, and as strange as it may seem, I felt compelled to start dating as well. Perhaps the underlying reason was as simple as I didn’t want those Yule Ball rumors to finally come true. You know the ones I mean; the ones that said that no boy would ever want to be seen with someone like me; a bossy know-it-all with bushy hair. But I didn’t want to date someone I didn’t know,” Hermione continued with tears streaming down her face. “So I decided that it would have to be either you or Ron. And you were already ogling Ginny, so I set my sights on Ron. That’s why I stopped caring about House-Elves; Ron doesn’t care about them, he only cares about Quidditch. That’s also why I hexed McLaggen. And I suppose that’s the only excuse I can give as to why I didn’t figure about Snape and the whole Potions Text. I was so desperate for Ron to notice me that I ignored what was staring me right in the face. I needed Ron to notice me, there was no one else available for me. I had come to the conclusion that I didn’t have a chance with you. You’re popular, even though you hate it, and brave and handsome, and I’m ugly and bookish-”
“Let me explain something to you Hermione,” interrupted Harry as he took her face gently in his hands and looked deeply into her eyes. “I think you are beautiful, and not just in a physical way either. Even though I can honestly say that your breasts are fantastic! Awe inspiring, to be truthful.” Hermione blushed as Harry continued, “But you’re beautiful in so many other ways as well. You’re ridiculously smart, incredibly brave, patient, kind, compassionate, and you know me better than anyone else. Remember back in our third year? The game where the Dementors knocked me off my Nimbus? It was raining so hard I couldn’t see. Wood had called a time out and I was about to point out my vision problem. Before I could even begin, you appeared over my shoulder to help me out, without needing to be asked. Then in our fifth year, when I thought that I had somehow caused Nagini to attack Mr. Weasley, everyone let me wallow in self pity in that damn room. Ginny, the girl I was so infatuated with last year, let me rot in that room. But not you, you canceled a holiday with your folks and marched right up to Buckbeak’s room and literally dragged me out the moment you arrived. You’ve always been there for me, to help me, even when I thought I didn’t want it. You were the only one brave enough to say that Voldemort had laid a trap for me in the Department of Mysteries. And yet, you still went with me because you knew I needed your help. You know me better than I know myself.
“Do you want to know what Ginny said to me when I broke up with her?” Harry continued. “She said that I’d only be happy hunting Voldemort. She said that’s why she liked me so much.”
“How can she think that?” Hermione asked incredulously. “You want to be a father.”
“W-what?” Harry stammered. It was as if Hermione had dumped a bucket of ice water over his head and it shocked him to his core.
“It’s obvious to me that you want to get married and have a bunch of kids,” Hermione said, as if it was common knowledge. “You want the one thing you’ve never had: a loving family.” Harry slowly lowered himself to the floor and sat down.
“I do?” he asked as an image appeared in his minds eye. He looked a little older and he was surrounded by children, his children. That image filled the young man with such happiness that he actually started to cry. “I guess I do want kids.” Hermione lowered herself into Harry’s lap and kissed away his tears. “You see, you do know me better than I do.”
The couple sat on the floor in the Restricted Section just holding each other for a long while, saying nothing, just enjoying being in each others arms. Hermione finally pulled herself away from Harry’s embrace and said: “We better get back to researching.”
“Do we have to?” Harry pleaded while still holding onto her hands.
“Yes, we do,” Hermione ordered. “But it should be easier now that we have a better focus. We just have to look for spells and rituals which use love.”
Hermione disappeared into the stacks as Harry grudgingly stood up and began his search anew. After an hour of browsing through the Restricted Section, Harry’s eye caught the words “Love” and “Magic” on the binding of an old red-leather book. ‘Could this be it? The thing that could lead to the downfall of Voldemort?’ Harry’s hopes were dashed though, when he read the full title: “The Magic of Making Love: By Thos. Antric.” He shrugged as he pulled the book from the shelves; he reckoned that he might as well thumb through it, seeing that it was the only book he had found in the past hour that even appeared to be remotely related to love.
The first page Harry opened to had almost made him drop the book out of shock. It was a magical photo showing a witch and wizard, both very naked, in a unique position. A position that Harry thought should have caused a great deal of pain (/’Was that his foot by her ear or her own? And where was her left hand?’/), but judging by the expressions on their faces, they were rather enjoying it.
The next page that Harry randomly turned to piqued his interest. The chapter was titled “A Witch’s Orgasm and its Power; How You Can Benefit From It!” Harry didn’t need to read the chapter to learn how a witch’s orgasm could benefit him; he would be able to show Hermione just how much she meant to him, and he could properly return the pleasure that Hermione had given him. The next random chapter that Harry turned to made him think that the book was written precisely with him in mind: “The Hidden Benefits of Being a Parselmouth; Cunnilingus and You!” Harry marked that page and stuffed the book in his bag. The book may not help him defeat Voldemort, but it looked like it could help him in his love life.
Harry returned to their desk to find Hermione already hidden behind a wall of books. The young wizard sat down at his chair and started to read the new-found book.
The chapter on Parselmouths was very enlightening. It stated that Parselmouths have a magical ability that is focused within the wizard’s tongue, and while normally this magic is used to communicate with snakes, it could be used while giving oral pleasure to a witch. The book also had several diagrams explaining different techniques to illicit the best response from the witch.
After he had read the chapter no less than ten times, completely skipping over the sections dealing with the theories and so-called “magical benefits”, concentrating strictly on form and technique, Harry realized that it had grown dark outside. He looked at the clock on the wall and noticed it was half past ten at night. “Hermione, let’s fetch some supper and call it a night,” he called out.
Harry was having a very interesting dream the next morning; he was on the shore next to the Hogwarts Lake. Some odd compulsion forced him to gobble some gillyweed that was in his hands and he then jumped into the water. After he felt gills popping out on the sides of his neck, Harry swam under the water for several minutes until he saw something that would lead him to his goal – what that goal was, he didn’t know, but Harry needed to reach it for some unknown reason. The thing that Harry saw was a mermaid. But it wasn’t what real mermaids looked like, merpeople are actually very unattractive, downright ugly one might say. This mermaid was quite beautiful; she looked exactly like Hermione did above the waist. And she was topless to boot! But before Harry could get a good look at mermaid-Hermione’s boobs, she dashed away. He gave chase immediately. Mermaid-Hermione dove into a dark tunnel at the bottom of the lakebed and Harry quickly followed. The tunnel was incredibly dark, but unlike the water outside the tunnel which was cold, this water was warm and pleasant. For some odd reason, Harry felt his ever-present companion, ‘Harry, Jr.’ begin to stir in his swim-trucks. After a few moments of swimming through the tunnel blindly, Harry saw a slit of light in the distance. Harry instinctively swam toward the light and passed through it. He turned around and saw that he had just exited the tunnel and onto the lakebed through a giant clam.
But before Harry could turn around and continue pursuing mermaid-Hermione, he was tackled by someone. As he was pushed down into the lakebed, kelp magically sprang to life to bind his hands and feet. Someone rapidly stripped off his swim trunks. He looked up into the beautiful hazel eyes of mermaid-Hermione.
“I see that part of you is awake,” she said wickedly, indicating Harry’s partially aroused state, as she twirled his trunks in front of her while poking him in the ribs. “I’m just waiting for the rest of you to wake up.”
“Huh?” Harry grunted groggily as his eyes opened up. He normally wouldn’t have been happy to wake up from such an interesting dream, but any animosity that he might have felt toward the person who woke him up disappeared the moment his eyes focused on the young woman in front of him. Hermione stood in front of Harry wearing her sleeping gown and holding a pair of boxers in front of her, specifically Harry’s boxers. That’s when Harry felt a draft on ‘Harry, Jr.’/. He tried to cover his bits, but found that his hands and feet were invisibly bound to his bedposts, obviously by Hermione for some illicit and, more than likely, exciting purpose. The young witch examined Harry’s naked body with unmasked desire in her eyes. Harry was embarrassed, nay, mortified that he was laying starkers in front of Hermione. /’Harry, Jr.’ on the other hand reveled in the attention. It stood proud as if it was saying “Hey, look at me!”
“Quite impressive, Mr. Potter,” said Hermione, as if she was grading one of his papers. “You should be proud.”
Harry felt his skin turn red at Hermione’s comments and ‘Harry, Jr.’ stood even taller.
“Seeing as you’re naked, which I might have had something to do with that – but I admit nothing, mind you- and I am dressed,” Hermione said theatrically, “let’s even the score a bit”
Hermione then reached down and slowly, almost hesitantly, removed her gown. Harry emitted a small “ooh” sound when he saw the two things that he had so desperately wanted to see the past few days; Hermione’s nipples.
Her nipples, which Harry decided to call “Carmella” and “Natasha,” were full and erect, as if they were saying ‘hello’ to ‘Harry, Jr.’ who was singing to the heavens at that point in time.
Hermione stood nervously as Harry took in every inch of her exposed body. His eyes took in her white cotton knickers, lingered on her flat tummy, then slowly traveled up to her bare breasts, and then finally, he locked eyes with her and said: “My God Hermione, you are beautiful.”
“That is what I was waiting to hear,” said Hermione, her self-confidence obviously bolstered by Harry’s comments. She crawled onto the foot of the bed and lowered her mouth over Harry’s organ.
She began by using her tongue, running it up and down his shaft. Then she placed it into her mouth and began the same wonderful technique she used the other night. Harry groaned in pleasure and tugged at his invisible bounds. He frantically wanted to touch her, to run his hands through her hair. But she had cruelly bound him to his bedpost.
Slurping noises emanated from Hermione as she bobbed up and down on his pole, coating ‘Harry, Jr.’ with her saliva. Harry started to groan when Hermione began to cup and gently massage his balls. Within minutes (Harry noted with a great deal of masculine pride that he had lasted much longer then his first time), he felt the pressure build up. He remembered the tongue lashing he had gotten from Hermione the last time when he failed to warn her. Mind you he rather liked the tongue lashing he was getting now, but he hated the other type.
“Hermione, I’m gonna cum,” Harry grunted.
Hermione stopped her fellatio and looked up at Harry. A broad, sinful smile stretched across her lips as she said, “Happy Birthday, Harry.”
Then Harry got the best birthday present he had ever gotten. Hermione took his entire length into her mouth, pausing only to relax her gag reflex when he reached her throat. Harry stopped breathing when he felt Hermione’s throat pulsate and contract as she seemingly tried to swallow his organ. She let out a low grumble that emanated from her throat and the sound sent shivers through his body. While continuing to grumble, Hermione sucked on his organ. Within seconds, Harry had lost control and unloaded into Hermione’s mouth. His dick jumped once in her mouth, shooting off the first blast of his load and Hermione raised herself and suckled on his crown. ‘Harry, Jr.’ bucked again and again, discharging his semen into her mouth.
After Harry was finished, Hermione made a show of swallowing his load. She had a look on her face like she had just swallowed something dreadful, perhaps a flobberworm, but Harry almost came again just at the sight of her swallowing. Hermione retrieved her wand and performed a Breath Cleaning Charm before releasing Harry from his magical bonds.
“Sorry about that, I’m not used to the taste just yet.” said Hermione as she crawled onto his bare body, pressing her naked breasts into his heaving chest. “I’ve done some research and read that a man’s diet affects the taste of his semen. Maybe we can experiment with the foods you eat, and see which resultant taste I like the best?”
‘Experiment!’ Harry’s mind declared triumphantly. What she said definitely hinted that Hermione was willing to do this act again. ‘Try to act as smooth as possible,’ Harry thought to himself as he replied to Hermione, “Sure, I won’t mind. Anything in the name of progress.”
“So, was it good for you?” Hermione asked with a saucy smile.
In all honesty, it was very, very good for him. But he also knew that it couldn’t have been all that enjoyable for her. She did all the work, yet received no pleasure for herself, while Harry had gotten all the enjoyment (and a lot of it). Harry didn’t just want to tell her that it was terrific; he wanted to show her how terrific it was. He needed to show Hermione, not simply because he felt obligated to return the pleasure that she had given him twice already. He wanted to do it so Hermione herself could feel ecstasy. Somewhere deep within Harry, he felt the almost desperate need to make Hermione… happy. Harry just wasn’t certain he knew how to show her just what he felt for her, and what he felt she deserved. Then Harry remembered his ‘special book’ and the chapter that he so diligently memorized.
“Instead of telling you, let me show you,” Harry replied and quickly rolled over so that Hermione was under him before she could protest. Hermione squealed in surprise.
“What do you have in mind, Harry?” asked Hermione after she regained her composure.
“Retuning the favor,” answered Harry. He hesitantly added, “That is, if you don’t mind.”
Before answering, Hermione averted her eyes and blushed such a bright crimson, that Harry reasoned that he could easily read in the dark just by using her body as a night light.
“No, I don’t mind,” she replied nervously.
“Now, I’ve never done this before,” stated Harry, “and I know there are lots of ways to do this improperly beside ‘using teeth,’ so tell me when I do something wrong.”
After Hermione nodded in the affirmative, Harry started by kissing her passionately, he then trailed kisses down her chin, her neck, passed her color-bone, until he reached the valley between Hermione’s breasts. Harry took this opportunity to get to know ‘Natasha’ and ‘Carmella’ intimately. Hermione groaned as Harry licked, suckled, and lightly nibbled on her tender flesh. The heat coming off Hermione’s body was intense and her breath became more and more labored as Harry continued to play with ‘Natasha’ and /’Carmella’/. After several minutes of focusing on her breasts, Harry trailed kisses down her taught tummy. He looked up at Hermione when he got to her cotton knickers and said, “If you want me to stop just say so-”
But Harry was cut off when Hermione nearly shouted at him, “If you don’t pull my damned knickers off right now, I swear to Merlin…!”
“Okay, okay…” placated Harry as he hooked his fingers around her panties. The young wizard took a fortifying breath before slowly tugging the cotton garment down. Hermione gasped as she became exposed to the morning air. Harry gulped as he saw something he hadn’t expected.
“S-s-sha-s-s-shaved?” he stammered as he examined Hermione’s flower.
“Yes,” Hermione replied sheepishly.
“S-s-sha-s-s-shaved?” he repeated, still stunned.
“It’s strictly for hygiene,” she explained, still a little sheepishly.
“C-c-co-com-c-completely s-s-sha-s-s-shaved?”
“Well, yes,” she answered, her sheepishness was suddenly replaced by a saucy grin. “You see, I’m very hygienic.”
‘Gryffindor was right,’ Harry thought to himself, ‘brainy girls are naughty!’
As Harry took in Hermione and all her wonder, he commented to himself internally that when Hermione had satisfied him earlier, she had an easier job… err sorry about that. When it came to his bits, all Harry had was ‘Harry, Jr.’ and his luggage. And the only way he could think of not fulfilling ‘Harry, Jr.’ was if teeth were used. But with Hermione’s bits there was so much more! According to the book that Harry had hidden in his school bag, there was the Mons Veneris, the clitoris and its hood, and the Labia. And as reported by the book, there were definitely bad ways in stimulating Hermione.
With a touch of trepidation, Harry started by gently kissing the area around her flower – which he had almost given a name of a flower, but seeing that both his mother and his aunt had flower names, he became content with just “flower.” It was apparent that Hermione enjoyed these tiny kisses, so Harry continued this course of action for a while. Harry kissed her nether lips and Hermione gasped, that’s when Harry decided that his tongue should come into play.
He used his fore and middle fingers on his left hand to softly pry open her petals. Harry used his tongue to trace Hermione’s outer and inner lips and her honey began to seep out. After a minute or two of working on her vagina and lips, Harry used his right thumb to gently push her hood back, exposing her clitoris. Hermione gasped when Harry’s tongue touched her clit.
The brunette witch started to writhe and moan while Harry worked on his budding… /err sorry again/… skills of cunnilingus. After two or three minutes, Harry noticed that Hermione seemed to be enjoying his attempts. To him, Hermione tasted warm, sweet, and musky. Little droplets of sweat were appearing all over her body and her breathing was heavier than before. It was at this point that he decided to push Hermione over the edge, so to speak, and use the techniques that he had read in the book concerning Parslemouths.
Pausing for a second from his operations, Harry closed his eyes and focused on an image of a snake in his mind in order to trigger his rare power. Since Harry could never tell if he was speaking Parseltongue or English, he asked Hermione: “Can you understand me?”
“Harry, why are you speaking in Parseltongue?” Hermione asked. “I can’t – OH SWEET BABY MAEVE!”
Hermione couldn’t finish her statement properly; because Harry was satisfied that he was using his Parselmouth abilities and started his cunnilingus once more. Almost immediately, Hermione thrashed around and alternated between moaning, growling, and occasionally, babbling incoherently.
“… swish and flick…” Hermione sputtered disjointedly while Harry twirled his magical tongue around her bud. “…powdered newt…nimbus….” As magic poured off of Harry’s tongue into Hermione, he could feel every muscle in her body tense up. “Oh. Oh. Oh, mamma!”
One of Hermione’s hands grabbed a tuff of Harry’s hair and tugged at him while her legs wrapped around his head and pulled him closer. It was at this point that ‘Harry, Jr.’ woke up again and desperately, almost painfully, wanted to play again. Harry thought about using one of his hands to relieve himself, but realized that this moment was for Hermione. He wanted to concentrate fully, mentally, physically, and emotionally, on her. He would take care of ‘Harry, Jr.’ later.
After a minute or two, Harry could sense the buildup in Hermione, but he could feel himself about to release as well. Hermione’s back arched and sweat poured off of her naked flesh. Her body was raked by shallow, quivering gasps of breath.
“Oh, gods, Harry!” Hermione shouted as a combined wave of magic and ecstasy passed through her body, and then through Harry’s. Her musky juices shot out of her pussy and filled his mouth. He tried his best to lap up her honey, but a large amount flowed out of his mouth and poured down his chin. Harry groaned into Hermione as he climaxed in the middle of her orgasm. The two teens didn’t notice the very loud bang that accompanied their simultaneous orgasms.
Slowly, Harry’s eyes took in the vision before him; Hermione lay on the bed, panting heavily, her body flushed and glistening. Her nether lips were red and swollen and her wetness still seeped out of her. The young man smiled with pride, because he didn’t need to ask Hermione if it was good for her. He could tell by the glow emanating from her body that she had thoroughly enjoyed his first efforts. Then it hit him, she was literally glowing! She was throwing off light! He was shocked to find that he was glowing softly as well. Harry was about to ask Hermione about this startling occurrence when he noticed that she had her eyes fixed on something behind him.
With her legs still draped over his shoulders, Harry turned his head and saw that except for the bed that they were currently using, every object in the room was floating six feet off of the ground. Every book, scrap piece of parchment, every article of clothing – Harry spotted Hermione’s knickers straight away, they were twirling slowly as if dancing- even the other beds hovered several feet in the air.
Before either of the two teens could discus these strange events, the door to the dorm room flew open and Tonks rushed in, waving her wand.
“Harry, are you okay?” the pink haired Auror shouted out, as she started to quickly scan the room. “I heard a…uh… bang?” Tonks paused as she finally noticed the two naked forms in front of her; Hermione glistening with sweat and her hair tossed this way and that, with Harry kneeling as if in prayer at Hermione’s altar and his face dripping with her love juice. A sardonic, almost wicked smile crept across Tonks’s face. But the smile was nothing compared to the devilish look in her eye. Both Hermione and Harry made a weak squeaking noise at that look.
To be continued!
Author’s Notes: I tried to insert some humor into Harry and Hermione’s explanation of why they acted so out-of-character (in my opinion – an opinion which I point out in the text) in the 6th book, but I found I couldn’t. I couldn’t make fun of it because their actions in HBP were so sad and pathetic. It would be like mocking a train wreck.

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Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor
Chapter Thirty One: Tootsies and Booksies
Disclaimer: 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 Thirty One: Harry and Hermione’s book gets printed and an old threat returns to loom over our hero’s head.
Harry and Hermione were about to finish performing The Double-Up Ward for the photo session. They considered this ritual to be key to the different protections being offered in their book, as this particular ward increased the strength and efficiency of all the other wards placed on the house of the participants by nearly one-hundred percent. This ritual was also especially enjoyable to perform as it called for the use of three of Hermione’s favorite toys: her anal beads, ball-gag, and a leather covered paddle. These toys were tied, inserted, and whacked much to her pleasure. It also required that Harry take a double dose of virility potion because after he came in her cunny, he had to promptly remove the anal-beads and sodomize her. A task which our young hero felt was his privilege to complete.
While Harry simultaneously buggered and paddled his happily gagged girlfriend, Luna, who had retrieved the discarded anal beads, was sniffing the hard rubber toy out of intellectual curiosity while Ron wanked himself and snapped pictures of the sex ritual – fortunately, the magical camera only needed one hand to operate, allowing the red haired wizard to relieve himself without neglecting his responsibilities as photographer. A moment before Harry climaxed for the second time, another powerful orgasm hit Hermione. A touch of her drool had sprayed out of the corners of her mouth and the ball-gag as she screamed in ecstasy.
After unloading a warm, sticky and very personal present in Hermione’s naughty place, Harry unclasped and removed the ball-gag letting Hermione take in a long, shuttering breath. Luna placed the rubber toy under her arm so that she could applaud.
“Bravo,” cheered the blonde. “That was fantastic!”
“I can’t feel my toes,” commented Hermione, with a satisfied glow to her face and body. Of course, that glow was significantly more pronounced on her spanked bottom, but that should go without saying.
After helping Hermione stand and guiding her to a comfy chair, Harry asked his friends, “What ritual should we do next?”
“How about the Degnoming Ritual?” offered Luna after she checked the list of rituals.
Harry looked at his girlfriend, who was wriggling her toes while smiling and stating “Nope, still can’t feel them. You really did a good job, Harry,” and the wizard sighed. The fact that he had shagged a portion of his girlfriend numb would normally be a noteworthy benchmark for the young wizard. However, having numb toes would hinder the Degnoming Ritual. This meant that either they would have to wait for Hermione to recover, or let Ron and Luna be the couple to perform the ritual. This, in Harry’s opinion, didn’t bode well.
Picking up on Harry’s apprehension, Ron announced “Don’t worry, mate. Luna and I can do it.”
“Are you sure?” the black haired wizard asked dubiously. It was a very simple ritual to execute: the couple had to take the missionary, and the witch needed to have her toes spread out wide while the wizard had to bend his left knee and hold his left foot in the air throughout the ritual. Ron and Luna had already performed a few dozen of the simpler rituals that had been created for the book. Unfortunately, the married couple had performed less of a third of them correctly. Sometimes they didn’t hold the position properly or, on more than one occasion, Ron “missed” his target and penetrated the wrong tender entrance on his wife. These fouled up rituals led to some very bad side-effects, including fires, toilets overflowing and flooding the loo, and windows shattering to name a few disasters.
“How can we possibly muck this one up?” Ron asked rhetorically, dismissing Harry’s concerns.
Acknowledging that the Degnoming Ritual was the simplest procedure he and Hermione had created, Harry nodded his head – giving Ron the go-ahead – and took his place behind the camera. Harry shook his head in disappointment the moment Ron and Luna began making love. Ron kept kicking out his legs with each thrust, while Luna alternated between stretching out her toes and flexing them. Both of their actions utterly ruined the ritual. Shrugging his shoulders in defeat, Harry snapped a picture. He figured he would simply add these photos to the pile of Ron and Luna’s failed attempts.
Once the married couple had completed the botched ritual, Harry looked out one of the windows when he heard some odd grunts emanating from outside. Peering down, Harry saw scores and scores of ugly gnomes milling about the exterior of the Shrieking Shack. Instead of repelling gnomes from the house and surrounding area, the muffed ritual drew the pesky creatures toward it.
SoG SoG SoG
The sun began to set on Sunday night as Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Luna cleaned up the Shack. This was a time consuming chore, seeing how the couples had sex scores of times all throughout the magically expanded house. Each room required several passes with cleaning charms in order to remove the ample amounts of semen and other sticky forms of residue that had accumulated during the previous three days.
While they each removed the various glamour charms and reverted to their natural appearances, Hermione asked Ron and Luna, “Do you want to go into Hogsmeade for something to eat?”
“No, you two go ahead. Ronald and I have some excess sexual energy to burn off,” Luna informed them.
“How can you have any more energy?” asked Harry. “We’ve all had so much sex over the last three days that I think my penis is in a coma.”
“I’m beat. I’m not even going to think about sex for a week,” agreed Hermione. Knowing his girlfriend and how utterly kinky she was, Harry doubted Hermione’s statement would hold up.
“My Ronald is a super-charged-love-bunny,” Luna said and she smiled happily. “He can go for days and days. I’d offer for you to watch, but you’ve seen us have sex one-hundred and twenty-one times since we began photographing the many rituals for the book.”
“You counted?” asked Harry in surprise.
“Of course I did. And Ronald gave me three hundred and twelve wonderful orgasms,” Luna returned lightly as if Harry’s question was silly. “I told you, my Ronald’s a super-charged-love-bunny.”
“What can I say; when you’ve got it, you’ve got it,” Ron said, his chest puffing up with pride. “C’mon sweetie, let’s make that three hundred and thirteen.”
“Oh, at least,” chirped Luna.
“Have fun you two,” said Harry and he led Hermione out of the Shrieking Shack. The moment the door closed, they could hear Ron and Luna’s moans of pleasure.
“Let’s go to Madam Puddifoots,” offered Hermione over Luna’s emphatic shout of “OH GOD YES! RIGHT THERE!”
“They serve food there?” asked Harry as he tried to ignore the loud squelching sound from behind the door.
“Sandwiches and the like, I believe,” Hermione said and led her boyfriend away from the noisy Shack.
When they entered the teashop, Harry was struck at how dark it was inside: only a few candles were lit. Harry assumed that this was intentional; the lack of light was supposed to enhance the romantic mood of the teashop. A plump and jolly witch, obviously Madam Puddifoot herself, greeted Harry and Hermione at the door and led them to a table.
“I’ve never been in here before,” commented Hermione in a hushed tone. Even though there was only one other couple in the restaurant, Hermione didn’t want anyone to be disturbed by – or listen in on – their conversation.
“This is my second time,” stated Harry. With a coy smile, he added playfully “You’re not going to pout and whine like Cho did, are you?”
“I’m no hosepipe, thank you very much,” the brunette said with a chuckle.
After the waitress took their order – Harry had butterbeer and a cucumber sandwich, while Hermione ordered elf-wine and a liverwurst and lettuce sandwich – Harry’s eyes adjusted enough to take in the shop. Tiny, cheap decorations littered the teashop and the damn cherubs that had been present when he and Cho had a date there were still all over the place. Then Harry noticed the only other customers; they were sitting against the wall a few feet away, looking into each other’s eyes.
“Courtney? Malfoy?” he asked in surprise.
“What are you two doing here?” asked Hermione.
“Oh, just going on a date,” informed Courtney. She had a pleasant – but naughty – smile on her lips whereas Draco looked like he was in some duress. Sweat coated his deeply furrowed brow, and his hands were gripping the edge of the table. His eyes, which were firmly fixed on the Auror in training, were half closed but they burned intensely.
“Is he okay?” asked Harry.
“Oh, yeah, he’s just peachy,” announced Courtney. To prove this point, the witch bent over, took hold of the edge of the tablecloth, and flipped it up over their empty plates. Because of the darkened interior of the teashop, Harry couldn’t see the area under the table too clearly. All he could tell was that Courtney’s shoes were off and had been placed to the side. He strained his eyes in order to see what Courtney was trying to show them.
“Here, let me give you a hand,” offered Courtney. She pulled out her wand and pointed it under the table. “Lumos.”
The image Harry saw when the beam of light from Courtney’s wand illuminated the space under the table both amazed and shocked him. Courtney had her bare feet in Draco’s lap. And there, in between her feet, was ‘Draco, Jr.’ so to speak. For several seconds, Harry couldn’t pull his eyes away from the scene before him. He was transfixed by the aforementioned amazing and shocking sight. Courtney worked her feet, rubbing, stroking, and massaging Draco’s hard shaft. Her toes flexed and she deftly pinched his spongy crown between her surprisingly dexterous digits. Using the arch of her left foot to hold Draco’s cock in place, Courtney dragged the ball and toes of her right down the underside of his shaft. The blond wizard rolled his head back and groaned as Courtney squeezed his manhood between her feet.
Mercifully, Harry was finally able to look away. It didn’t bother him that Courtney was giving a bloke a foot-job. What was troubling Harry was the fact that the John Thomas that Courtney was rubbing with her feet belonged to Draco. That would scare any rational person, he thought.
In order to avert his eyes from the sight, Harry fixed his gaze on Hermione. Unlike Harry, Hermione was unable to look away. Her expression was a mixture of interest, wonder, and disgust – Harry felt it was safe to assume that she felt interest and wonder over Courtney’s talented tootsies and the same level of disgust that Harry had over seeing Draco’s exposed and erect member.
“That’s amazing, Courtney,” congratulated Hermione with her nose scrunched up in distaste.
“It’s not too shabby, is it?” the Auror in training said with pride. “Some girls can tie a cherry stem into a knot with their tongue. I can use my toes to unzip a bloke’s trousers, pull his beef out, and wank him off. Which do you think is the more useful talent out of the two?”
Then, Draco grunted loudly and Courtney giggled girlishly. Clearly he had just blown his load and shot it all over her feet and shins.
Hermione politely applauded and stated, “You are a master, Courtney.”
“Thank you,” the witch replied and bowed her head, accepting Hermione’s praise. “Watch this.”
He knew he was going to regret it, but Harry couldn’t help but turn his attention back to the other couple. He watched as Courtney took hold of Draco’s softening member between her feet, she pushed the fleshy organ back into his trousers, and then she pinched his zipper between her first two toes and zipped his trousers shut.
“Ta-da!” cheered Courtney, throwing her arms over her head triumphantly.
“So I take it you two have hit it off?” asked Hermione.
Draco blushed and smiled demurely. The fact that Harry could refer to another bloke’s expression with such feminine terms frightened our hero. Did Harry subconsciously detect a touch of femininity in his school-nemesis? Harry gulped; perhaps he wasn’t out of the dreaded “Draco wants to bugger me” predicament as he had previously thought.
“No, we’re horrible together,” Courtney playfully replied to the brunette’s question. “Of course we hit it off, you silly witch! Do I need to show you his spunk on my feet as evidence to prove this?”
“Please don’t,” Hermione winced.
“Well, you two enjoy your dinner,” Courtney said and stood. She took the blond wizard’s hand and guided him out of his seat. “Draco and I are going to take care of his virginity problem.”
“Courtney,” Draco said with embarrassment.
“And just think, a few days ago you believed that Harry would be the one to pop your cherry,” Courtney returned impishly. Draco’s blush deepened. “Of course, that would’ve happened after you buggered him.”
At this point, Draco was such a brilliant red that he looked as if he had fallen asleep in the middle of the Gobi Desert and had received a severe sunburn from the exposure. This change in complexion warned Harry that Draco was not ashamed of his failed plan to woo and seduce the black haired wizard. In fact, Harry assumed that his school-nemesis was nervous and a little embarrassed by it, but not opposed to it. Harry’s concern that Draco still held a flame for him worsened. As Draco’s face continued to glow, Harry’s turned pale.
“Ta’,” Courtney said with a wave and she led Draco out of the tea shop. While the other couple was still within earshot, Harry could hear Courtney say affectionately to the blond wizard, “I’m going to conjure up a bit of silk ribbon and tie it around the base of your cock – not only to wrap it as a present to myself, but to help you from cumming too quickly.”
Harry, who was still fretting over Draco’s dubious orientation, had not noticed the naughty look in his girlfriend’s eyes. He was drawn out of his bothersome thoughts when he felt a pair of bare feet slide into his lap.
“Err, what are you doing?” he asked as Hermione’s feet fumbled gently on his crotch.
“Trying something new,” she replied. Harry recalled his earlier assumption that his kinky girlfriend had spoken too soon when she said earlier she wouldn’t even think about sex for days. The show that Courtney had given them had only encouraged Hermione and her sexually adventurous streak. After a moment of clumsy motions of attempting to grab hold of his zipper between her toes, she requested “Open your trousers and pull ‘Harry, Jr.’ out.” It appeared that Hermione was concentrating on the task at foot to use the proper term for penis and had instead used Harry’s pet nickname for his manhood.
Not being one to pass an opportunity at any form of sex, Harry willingly did as requested. Hermione held the tip of her tongue between her teeth and had one eye shut in concentration. ‘Harry, Jr.’ was just starting to wake up – the organ was more than eager to try something new – when something horrible happened. You see, if either Harry or Hermione had asked Courtney, she would’ve possibly told them that they needed to practice a bit before jumping right into the delicate art of a foot-job. Perhaps some time spent using a banana in proxy for the real thing until Hermione got the required gentle force and dexterity down. Unfortunately, the young couple discovered first hand (or is that first foot in this case?) that without hours of trial and error performed on inanimate objects to learn the intricacies of foot-jobs, mistakes happen. The particular mistake that Hermione committed dealt with her losing control and accidentally dropping the heel of her foot on Harry’s tender and hypersensitive testicles.
When the waitress came back with the two sandwiches and drinks, she must have been quite surprised to see Hermione who had her wide, guilt-filled eyes fixed on Harry as he had his head on the table with tears of pain welling up in his eyes.
Once the waitress left, Hermione asked “I’m going to have to work a lot to make this up to you, aren’t I?”
“Yes, yes you are,” Harry half groaned, half whimpered.
SoG SoG SoG
For the next two weeks, all of Hermione’s free time was entirely devoted to writing the book and serving her punishment for accidentally dropping her foot on Harry’s genitals. This retribution was paid with blowjobs while he ate breakfast, intense spanking sessions after morning lessons before lunch, anal sex in cupboards after dinner, and tittie-shagging before they fell asleep. As punishments went, Hermione thought hers were fairly enjoyable – especially the buggering and paddling.
It was decided upon by Harry and Hermione that since most of the photos of Luna and Ron showed the improper way to perform the rituals that the magical pictures of the married couple would be used in the book as warnings in a “Do Not Attempt the Rituals This Way” section. Each of that pair’s photos would contain alerts, notifying the reader the dangers of performing the ritual incorrectly. Such as drawing gnomes in droves or setting the house on fire.
To create the various pages of the book, Hermione used Sticking Charms to attach a photo onto a piece of parchment. She would then write lengthy directions, precautions, and a list of benefits under the photos. Even using wizarding photographs, some rituals needed multiple photos and several pages of directions, warning, and benefits. Once she was finished writing each page, she cast a special charm to turn her writing into block letters to make it look professional.
Finally, after hundreds of pages were composed and properly illustrated, Hermione set her quill down and announced proudly, “My first book is finished!” This was promptly followed by the brunette witch growling like a hungry puma and pouncing on Harry before shagging his brains out.
“CALL ME AN AUTHOR AND SLAP MY BOTTOM!” she cried out as she pounded herself on Harry’s lap, forcibly driving ‘Harry, Jr.’ into her sex.
SoG SoG SoG
“Luna, have you talked to your father about printing our book yet?” Hermione asked during lunch the next day.
“Yes, he informed me through a post I received yesterday that he’s made the necessary changes to switch the printer so that it can print and bind books,” the blonde said with a dreamy smile. “We can start this weekend.”
“That will be fabulous,” Hermione said. Her voice was a touch husky with a hint of lust.
“We still have to settle on a name then shouldn’t we?” asked Harry. “We can’t print a book without a title.”
“I know,” Ron stated. “How about ‘Ron Weasley and the -”
“No, Ron!” Hermione said, cutting him off irritably. “We’ve been through this already.”
“Mate,” Harry began, “you have to remember the book is not about you. It’s never been about you. I don’t know why you or anyone would think that the book focuses on you.”
“If anyone should have their name before the title, it should be Harry’s,” Hermione continued. “It was because his love power base that we stumbled upon the original book. And he’s the one who came up with the plan to write a new one to help the people of wizarding Britain. So if the book’s title was going to contain anyone’s name, it would read ‘Harry Potter and the…’. Definitely not ‘Ron Weasley and the…’”
“They’re right, Ronald,” Luna added, soothing her husband before he could retort with one of his illogical and baseless arguments. “Anyway, we were using disguises and aliases. So even if this was an alternate reality where the book inexplicably ended up focusing on you, it could never be a story about ‘Ron Weasley’.”
“I think we should use the title Harry suggested but with a minor change,” speculated Hermione. “I think we should call it ‘Books of Love Magic: Volume One’.”
“Wait – ‘Volume One’? Do you mean you plan on writing more?” asked Harry. The dark and lustful look in Hermione’s eyes told him her answer as well as informing him that they would be devising and practicing new rituals for the next book within a few hours.
“How do we plan on selling it?” asked Luna.
“Well, Alicia works at Franklin’s of Cardiff, so we can probably sell it there,” offered Harry, slightly distracted by the lusty look in his girlfriend’s eyes – which were growing darker and darker with want and desire by the second. So much so that Harry had to reassess his estimated time. Judging by the look his lover was giving him, he assumed that the moment they stepped out of the Great Hall, Hermione would drag Harry to a nearby broom cupboard. The notion of being a published author was making Hermione so randy that Harry reckoned that his lover must have been practically dripping by that point. Of course, the mere idea of his lover being so turned on caused Harry to become aroused himself.
“And we should have Fred and George market it,” Ron added, clearly happy to add something useful to promote the plan, for a change. “After all, they do a bang up job promoting the joke shop. I think they’d do wonders for the book.”
“That would be great,” Harry agreed. “After we stop by Luna’s dad’s, we’ll head over to the twins’ shop and talk to them about it.”
“This will be wonderful!” cheered Luna. “As to which one of us should get top billing so to speak, I think since Hermione has done all of the work, her nom de plume should get be first, with our names listed as her co-contributors at best.”
Bolstered by Luna’s declaration making her the main author, Hermione dropped all pretenses and snaked her hand into Harry’s trousers. After his lover gave ‘Harry, Jr.’ a squeeze and a stroke, Harry decided to copy Hermione’s actions and he slid his hand up her skirt, pushed his fingers under her knickers, and wriggled into her moist folds. After all, Harry prided himself on fair-play and being a gentleman. And if he didn’t slide two fingers deep into her already hot, wet, and quivering sex while she wanked him off, it would be rude and inconsiderate of him.
“You two are so deliciously kinky!” cheered Luna, knowing full well what Harry and Hermione were doing in the middle of the crowded Great Hall. “Just like Stripped-Kildrickles during mating session!”
“Luna, would you mind casting a Silencing Charm on Hermione?” requested Harry as his lover closed her eyes in near ecstasy. “You know how much of a screamer she is.”
“Oh, poo,” bemoaned Luna with an exaggerated pout. “Hermione’s boisterous cries of passion are very entertaining. Not hearing her scream out ‘Sweet Baby Maeve’ every so often would be a dreadful disappointment for me.”
“We’ll make it up to you later,” Hermione groaned out.
“I want arse-to-mouth,” demanded the blonde dreamily. “That’s how you can make it up to me. I get to watch Harry bugger you, Hermione, then he has to cum in your mouth and you must swallow like the dirty witch you are.”
“Luna!” Harry said in shock and scandal.
“”Fine, just have a mouth-cleansing charm ready for me afterwards,” Hermione said. Clearly she was not shocked or scandalized in the slightest over this demand. In fact, her eyes darkened even more. Obviously, Hermione was keen to try this new and naughty activity. Harry eyed his girlfriend appreciatively: would there ever be a time where he wouldn’t be amazed at just how kinky Hermione could be?
Having gotten her way, Luna giggled triumphantly before twirling her wand and casting the Silencing Charm on Harry and Hermione. The timing of this charm was impeccable, for Hermione cried out a mere second after it was cast. Judging by how much she flowed into his hand, Harry guessed that her scream would’ve echoed off the walls.
If the charm was not in place, Harry knew that loud squelching sounds would be emanating from Hermione. Her honey dripped off of his fingers as he continued to pump and rub away. Of course, Harry was not one to point fingers – even if those fingers weren’t busy stimulating his lover. He, too, was making wet squelching sounds. Thanks to his girlfriend’s firm and loving touch, sizable amounts of pre-cum dripped out of ‘Harry, Jr.’s eye.
While he stimulated Hermione and she him, Harry scanned his fellow students gathered in the Great Hall. Once in a while, someone would look in Harry and Hermione’s direction. Thankfully, these people seemed not to notice what the couple was doing despite their bright red and sweat covered faces. Everyone was too caught up in their own dealings to have noticed the impromptu hand-job session occurring at the Gryffindor table.
Luna had her elbows on the table and chin perched on her hands and she watched Harry and Hermione happily. There was a joyous twinkle in her eyes and a pleased grin on her face. It was clear that Luna had openly embraced her new voyeur leanings. When Hermione’s second climax struck, the blonde witch complimented Harry at his task; “Harry, you’re doing a splendid job.”
Obviously, both Ron and Luna were enjoying the show. However, whereas Luna was merrily content to watch, Ron looked as if he was having difficulty not masturbating himself right there and then. The wizard’s hands kept clenching into fists while beads of sweat blossomed all over his face.
Noticing her husband’s discomfort, Luna said in a soothing voice, “That erection of yours must be terribly uncomfortable, dear. Your penis is confined in your trousers, all scrunched up, throbbing away, and begging for release. I, too, am aching just watching. But since you and I aren’t as adventurous as Harry and Hermione, we can’t take care of our urges here in public. Once they finish, I’ll take you to a cupboard and we’ll fix our problems.”
Finally, Harry shot his load down his trouser leg. Being the naughty witch that she was, Hermione made a show of licking her fingers.
Harry was about to make a comment regarding how lucky he was to have Hermione as a lover when he noticed something he had not seen before. From his seat at the Slytherin table, Draco had his grey eyes firmly locked on Harry. The blond wizard had a coy, impish smile while he winked theatrically at Harry.
“Um, we have to talk to Courtney and see how things went with Malfoy,” Harry gulped.
“You just got wanked by your girlfriend and the first thought you have is about Malfoy?” Ron asked snidely. “You can’t be that interested in that git’s love life, can you?”
“If it will save me from being buggered, then yes, I am interested.”
SoG SoG SoG
After explaining that they were leaving the castle for an important, yet ambiguous, errand, Harry, Hermione, Luna, and Ron used McGonagall’s fireplace to floo-travel to the Lovegood home.
Taking Luna’s odd intricacies into account, Harry was expecting that the Lovegood home would be unique to say the least and attempted to prepare himself for this. Despite this preparation, what Harry saw while picking himself off the floor after he gracelessly tumbled out of the floo shocked him.
Doilies.
Hundreds, if not thousands, of round lace and linen doilies of every size and design littered the house. There were doilies carefully placed under each foot of every piece of furniture. Instead of throw pillows, frilly doilies lovingly graced the squashy chairs and couch. Dozen were placed on top of books as dust covers and some small doilies were placed in several books as page-markers. Scores were hung from the walls like fine pieces of art. Some of the larger cloth circles were placed strategically like stepping stones on the floor to guide guest to the kitchen and loo.
“Daddy has a penchant for doilies. He’s collected quite a number of them,” informed Luna conversationally as if everyone had such a peculiar hobby.
“I… I can see that,” Harry said in wide-eyed wonder.
A wizard with a touch of grey in his blond hair came bounding out of the hallway. The wizard, obviously Luna’s father appeared perfectly normal and sane. But the doily that he wore at a jaunty angle on top of his head in lieu of a hat shattered this appearance.
“Luna, my darling daughter!” he greeted the blonde witch with an affectionate hug.
“Hello, Daddy!” she returned and kissed his cheek.
“Now, dear, I’ve made the necessary adjustments to the printer so that it will make books instead of my highly informative and entertaining newspaper,” stated Mr. Lovegood. “But I can’t stay around and help you out. There’s a wonderful doily convention in Berlin that I simply must attend. They’ll be displaying the new Smithenhoff pattern today and I can’t miss that!”
“Don’t worry, Daddy, I’ll handle everything,” Luna said cheerfully.
“Brilliant! Well, then, I’m off!” Mr. Lovegood said before dashing to the fireplace. He threw a pinch of floo into the flames and shouted “The Berlin Convention Centre!” before disappearing.
“The printer is this way,” stated Luna, leading the others down into the house’s cellar. Of course, the steps leading down to the cellar were covered with doilies, much like the rest of the house.
A massive contraption made out of wood, iron, and rock with steam-pipes, bells, knobs, dials, and leavers dominated the cellar. On one end of the device was a small drawer and the opposite side had a hole that opened onto a conveyor belt.
“It’s fairly simple to operate; you put the source material into this drawer,” said Luna, pointing to the drawer. “Then the patented Lovegood Publishing Apparatus will copy, print, and bind the material. The finished product will come out on the conveyor belt.
“Is the book ready? Everything is in order the way you want it?” Luna asked Hermione.
“Yes,” Hermione replied. The brunette witch pulled the large, neat, and orderly stack of parchment that she had worked so tirelessly on out of her bag and handed it to Luna. “But I haven’t made a book cover yet.”
“Oh that’s simple; the patented Lovegood Publishing Apparatus will make one for us,” the blonde replied and took the stack of parchment from Hermione and set it in the drawer. She turned back to Hermione and asked, “How does a nice faux-leather cover dyed light red sound to you?”
“That would be lovely,” Hermione answered with a smile.
Luna pulled out her wand and tapped the machine several times in a seemingly random pattern for several seconds. Then the machine began to make a groaning noise that reminded Harry of the sounds that would emanate from Dudley’s stomach when the obese boy had not eaten his weight in bacon for a period of longer than four hours. The drawer closed on its own and the groaning grew louder and louder. The machine began to vibrate and shake violently. In a matter of moments, the machine made a loud, wet, belching sound and a large red book dropped out of the opening and landed on the conveyor belt.
With a noticeable tremble in her hands, Hermione carefully picked up the freshly printed book. Lovingly, she caressed its face which bore in elegant, gold lettering; “Books of Love Magic, Volume One by Mona Puckle with Tim Hunter, Neil Gaiman, and Perky Weatherby.” With her eyes shimmering, she looked at Harry and euphorically announced, “I’m an author!”
Directly after this proclamation, Hermione had an orgasm so powerful that her knees gave way. Hermione loved books so much that holding one that she actually wrote was enough to send her to the heights of physical rapture. The machine belched again and another book was deposited on the conveyor belt. And Hermione groaned even louder. Harry watched intently as his lover moaned and trembled while clutching the book to her breast. And needless to say, ‘Harry, Jr.’ was urgently suggesting that they should go over there, pull Hermione’s knickers down, and help with her orgasms. This seemed like a novel idea to Harry; after all, he was Hermione’s boyfriend and it was his right as such to participate and share in her orgasms.
When the fourth book was printed – corresponding with Hermione’s fourth orgasm – Luna advised, “Perhaps we should take Hermione out of here? It seems that she’s having a climax every time a book is printed. Not that I don’t enjoy watching her ecstasy – which I truly do – but I think that Hermione may be in danger of dying of dehydration. This is a likely outcome since we’re going to print eight hundred copies in this initial run.” Luna’s stating of the projected number of copies triggered yet another body jarring climax for Hermione.
After scooping her up in his arms, Harry carried Hermione out of the cellar. While they walked up the stairs, Hermione continuously shivered and muttered, “I’m an author! – OH! – I’m an author! – OH!”
SoG SoG SoG
Once Hermione recovered – which included a quick yet completely shattering shag where she had clutched her book to her bosom and had wrapped her legs around Harry as he pounded away at her and the brunette shouted “I’M AN AUTHOR!” continuously, then a shower – the two couples made their way to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes in Diagon Alley. Instead of the standard bell chiming when the door open, a loud, obnoxious, pants-staining fart sounded as the four friends walked into the shop.
Much like every other store in Diagon Alley, the twins’ shop was devoid of customers. The threat of Voldemort and his minions had scared everyone into hiding in their homes.
Obviously drawn to the sound of the unique door “chime,” Fred came strolling around the corner.
“Welcome to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes!” he greeted the two couples.
“Fred, why are you wearing a blindfold?” asked Harry curiously.
“Ah, it’s you, Harry,” stated Fred without removing his blindfold. “Are there any witches of… ahem, advanced age with you?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s just me, Hermione, Ron, and Luna,” Harry informed.
“Brilliant! George, it’s safe to come out!” Fred called out while tugging off his blindfold. He blinked as his eyes became accustomed to the light.
“What’s with you two?” demanded Ron.
“It’s bloody Remus,” Fred began hotly as his twin took his place at his side.
“He pranked us back at Ginny’s birthday,” added George with an equal amount of anger to his voice.
“Ever since then, we’ve been forced to see through old witches’ clothing.”
“Do you have any idea of how much tits sag on a ninety year-old witch?” asked Fred.
“We do regrettably,” answered George, and both twins shivered in disgust.
Harry and Hermione shared a guilty look. It appeared that the little prank they pulled on Fred and George months ago was still in effect. Perhaps Harry’s power-boost had an unforeseen result, extending the length of the short-term spell.
“And the worst part is that Remus claims he had nothing to do with it,” continued Fred.
“Yeah, says he couldn’t have done it cause he wasn’t even there that night,” George stated.
“But we know he’s a Marauder. Little things like that wouldn’t stop him from pulling a prank.”
“So you two answer the door to your shop with blindfolds on, just in case your customer is an old witch?” asked Luna.
“It’s a necessary precaution in order not to see drooping and sagging bits and pieces,” answered George sagely.
An idea popped up in Harry’s head. He gave Hermione a look that told her to play along. But this look also asked Hermione to remain silent because Harry was about to lie. And since his lover was such a horrible liar, he knew that if she tried to help Harry, she’d give everything away and ruin his plan. The black haired wizard turned back to the twins and offered, “What if we convinced Remus to lift the curse?”
“That would be bloody fantastic!” cheered Fred.
“Too right, we’d owe you so much if you could do that,” George said.
“That’s great because we need a favor from you two,” stated Harry.
“If you got Remus to end this horrific and penis-shriveling prank, I’ll convince Fred to go down on you,” offered George. To which Fred nodded his head enthusiastically. Clearly, the continual shock of seeing every elderly witch naked had taken its toll on the twins; they were willing to do anything in order for it to end.
“Well, instead of sickening sexual favors, how about you two just promote a book for me?” Harry asked.
“What kind of a book?” one of the twins asked.
“A book on sex magic,” answered Harry as he handed Fred one of the copies.
Fred thumbed through the book with George looking over his shoulder. “Merlin, we heard about the Pensieves you two passed around Hogwarts, but we didn’t realize that you had grown so bloody kinky,” said George as he eyed one of the many photos in the book.
“That’s not us,” objected Hermione. “They’re friends of ours. You wouldn’t know them.”
As stated previously, Hermione was a poor liar. One might easily argue that the witch was a pathetic fibber. Her voice, which was warbling noticeably, was much higher than normal and her face burned a bright red as she denied George’s assumptions. Of course, this only served to confirm said assumption.
“Cor, Hermione, you’re a nimble minx,” commented Fred after turning another page.
“I swear this will help us get over the trauma of seeing naked decrepit witches,” added George while looking at one of the pictures with wide, impressed eyes.
“SWEET BUGGERING MORGAN LA FEY!” exclaimed Fred after he turned further into the book. “It’s always the smart witches, isn’t it?”
With a proud smile on his lips and in his eyes, George walked to Harry and hugged him. George said with naked pride, “Hang on to her, my boy. Don’t let her go.”
“Getting back to the matter at hand,” Hermione interrupted. Fred turned the book on its edge so that he could get a better angle on one of the photos. “Any suggestions as to how you two can promote this book?”
“Oh, we have some – SHE SWALLOWS?” cried out Fred. Once again, George pulled Harry into a tight embrace and spoke softly and earnestly, “Do not ever let her go. Every bloke should cherish a bird that does anal and swallows.”
“Hey, so does Luna!” Ron offered, clearly hoping to earn some of his brothers’ praise.
“She does?” George asked in awe.
“Where the hell do you two find such magnificently adventurous and open minded witches?” Fred asked Ron and Harry. “And can you find a set for George and me?”
“The last time we asked a bird if we could bugger her, she slapped us in the face and we never heard from her again,” explained George.
“Wait, ‘we’ and ‘us’?” Harry asked. “Don’t tell me both of you were asking the same girl at the same time?”
“Why not?”
“We’re twins.”
“We do everything together.”
“Even the same witch.”
“Yeah, they’ve got three holes after all and there are two of us.”
“Plenty of entry points, if you ask us.”
“Course we’ve only had access to two of those holes and, unlike Harry and our dear brother, have been denied the third, and most prized, hole.”
“How are you going to promote it?” interrupted Hermione, hoping not to hear any more on how much the twins shared.
“We’ll think of something,” replied the twins in unison.
“Where do you plan on selling this?” asked Fred. “It’s not like Flourish and Blotts will carry this.”
“We were thinking about Franklin’s of Cardiff,” answered Harry. “Alicia works there.”
“Speaking of which, we better head over there and see if she’ll even sell the book before you two start making plans on how to hype it,” Hermione said to the twins.
“Oh, don’t worry. We won’t be thinking of any plans today,” George said.
“Yeah, we’ll be wanking like mad over this book for the next few hours or so,” added Fred.
“Hey, you do realize that one of the blokes in those pictures is me, right?” Ron asked, shaken over the notion that his brothers were planning on pleasuring themselves over photos that depicted him.
“Don’t worry, dear brother,” assured Fred. “We won’t wank while looking at you.”
“We will, however, gladly and unreservedly wank while ogling your wife,” offered George.
“She’s got wonderful knockers,” complimented Fred.
“Epic, they are,” added George.
“Why, that’s so sweet,” Luna said sincerely while blushing at Fred and George’s crude compliments. “I’d pop open my blouse and give you a live viewing of them out of appreciation of your kind words. But as you’re Ronald’s brothers, that’d be inappropriate to do.”
Before the twins could voice a protest, Harry asked the top-heavy blonde, “If you don’t mind, could I take a gander?”
“Of course I don’t mind, Harry. Don’t even hesitate to ask,” Luna said with a genuine smile. “Once we’re out of view of the twins, I’ll open my blouse and you can look to your heart’s content.”
“Wait a tick, Harry and Ron are best friends,” Fred began to argue.
“They’re practically brothers,” continued George.
“And we need to see a set of young breasts…”
“… especially after being forced to see ancient witches’ sagging tits for months.”
“I’m sorry to say there’s a whole world of difference between ‘like a brother’ and ‘is a brother’,” Luna pointed out, denying the twins’ request yet again.
“I say you show ‘em,” offered Ron. “Just so they can see just what I get to play with every night.”
“And every morning,” corrected Luna, “as well as most afternoons. But since you’ve given me permission to expose myself to your brothers, I’ll gladly do it. After all, I do so love letting my breasts out in the open air.”
“Prepare to be amazed,” Harry told the twins.
Luna presented her covered chest to Fred and George and theatrically threw her blouse open. The twins’ eyes bounced in time with Luna’s own “twins” as her giant orbs sprang free.
“Oh, those are…” Fred muttered.
“Spectacular,” stated George.
“Now remember, look but don’t touch,” Ron warned. “As her husband, I’m the only one who can touch her titties.”
“Besides me that is,” announce Hermione, as she stepped up behind Luna. The brunette wrapped her arms around Luna’s sizable chest and playfully pinched both of her large nipples for everyone to see. This action caused Luna to giggle, which in turn caused her to jiggle.
The twins and Ron’s faces went white as sheets as every ounce of blood raced to their respective organs to reinforce their rapidly growing erections caused by the sight of one witch playing with another’s boobs. Harry knew this was happening to the Weasley brothers because the exact same thing was happening to him.
“Um, okay, we’ll get started on ideas to promote your book,” George said in a very small voice.
“That is after we’ve wanked ourselves raw,” Fred, whose voice was equally small, adjusted.
“That goes without saying,” concluded his twin.
“While you two are doing that, we’ll take our witches into a dark alley and have them take care of our erections,” teased Harry.
“Rub it in, why don’t you,” Fred said with a touch of envy.
“That’s a wonderful idea!” cheered Hermione. “I’ll have Harry cum on my bottom and he can rub it in.”
The twins were about to make a witty retort, but another of Hermione’s frolicsome pinches of Luna’s nipples took their breath away.
“Enjoy masturbating,” teased Harry as he led his lover and their friends out of the shop.
“We will,” replied Fred and George.
SoG SoG SoG
At Franklin’s of Cardiff, Harry told Alicia about the book while Hermione, Luna, and Ron browsed the toy section of the sex shop. Every once in a while, Harry could hear Hermione giggle excitedly – presumably she would do this over some new sex toy or product.
“You two are certainly kinky aren’t you?” Alicia asked while scanning through the book.
Realizing that denying the truth would be pointless, Harry forged ahead and asked, “Do you think you could sell the book here?”
“Sure, little good it will do,” she replied. “I haven’t had a customer in days. And the last one only bought a pair of discounted knickers and nothing else. Most days, it doesn’t pay to even open the doors.”
“We’ve got Fred and George on marketing,” informed Harry. “Hopefully they’ll be able to raise interest.”
“That should be interesting. Knowing those two, it should be something big and spectacular,” Alicia commented. The witch paused on one page in particular and her eyes bulged. She held it up so Harry could see the picture, and asked, “Didn’t this hurt?”
“You have to stretch up a bit before you try it. There are a few exercises in the first chapter so that you and your boyfriend can do it without hurting yourselves,” Harry informed, not bothered in the slightest about giving hints on sexual positions to his former Quidditch teammate.
Hermione finally came running up to the counter and deposited an armful of toys and gadgets.
“Looks like you’re going to be busy tonight, Harry,” Alicia commented as she tallied up all of Hermione’s toys. The witch paused and held up a rubber plug and announced “From what I’ve heard and what I’ve seen in this book, I’m positive you’ll like this one.”
After Harry paid for Hermione’s toys, Alicia sniffed the air and asked “Why do you lot smell of sex?”
“That’s because Ronald and I, as well as Harry and Hermione, had sex in the alley just before we came in,” explained Luna. “Harry came on Hermione’s bottom.”
“Ah, that’s why the odor is so potent,” Alicia said with a smile.
SoG SoG SoG
After stopping in their chambers, where Harry stuffed one of Hermione’s new toys – a ribbed, pink, bum-plug – up her bottom, the young couple made their way to the Great Hall for dinner. As they walked… well, as Harry walked and Hermione limped – he proudly commented, “You are such a kinky girl.”
“And you love it,” Hermione said with a smile.
“Oh God, yes.”
“Then you better heed the twins’ suggestion: ‘Never let me go,’” she said with no shame as the plug wriggled in her bottom with each step.
“Oh, I’ll never let that happen,” Harry said and placed an affectionate kiss on her cheek. Jokingly, he added, “It would be downright stupid of me to let a girl who likes to swallow leave.”
“And don’t forget buggering,” offered a familiar voice. Courtney strolled around the corner and clarified, “Never let a girl go who likes to get bum-shagged. They’re definitely a keeper.”
“Very true,” Hermione said with a nod.
“Speaking of buggery; is that why you’re walking with a limp?” Courtney asked as she fell in step with the teen lovers. “Did Harry roger you so hard that he hobbled you?”
“No, as a matter of fact, I have a rather large and exceedingly pleasant plug up my bottom,” Hermione answered. Brazenly, the brunette added; “Although, after supper, Harry’s going to spank me silly, pop the plug out, and then shag me so hard that I’ll be limping even without the plug.”
“Both of you are so wildly naughty,” Courtney congratulated. “Even if Draco and I had sex in every cupboard in the castle – which we’re trying to do before term is up, it’s important to set goals – we’ll never reach the lofty heights you two have set.”
Harry stopped walking and asked in a serious, but nervous tone, “Ah, Courtney, about Draco. He’s still giving me the ‘eye.’”
“Oh, that,” Courtney said with a cute blush to her cheeks. “I wasn’t completely correct when I said Draco wasn’t a poofter. After some ‘probing,’” she said the word knowingly, “I’ve changed my assessment – Draco’s mostly not-gay. I’d say he’s about twenty to thirty percent light in the loafers. This makes him mostly straight, I’m more than happy to say.”
Harry gulped fearful over the notion that Malfoy was gay – even if it was only twenty or thirty percent.
“How did you come to that conclusion?” Hermione asked. She, too, was fearful over this development. Of course she wasn’t as worried as Harry. But then again, she wasn’t the one Malfoy wanted to bugger.
“Well, have you ever heard of pegging?” the Auror in training asked.
“No,” Harry and Hermione both replied.
“Well, then, I can’t tell you what it is, because it’ll probably give Hermione some ideas,” Courtney informed. She explained “But, pegging doesn’t make a bloke gay, necessarily. However, the words and phrases of encouragement that Draco was saying – or rather shouting at the top of his lungs – kind of told me he still craves some stiff man-meat. A rather specific man’s meat, if you follow my meaning. If you don’t, I’m referring to Harry’s meat.”
Again, Harry gulped. This time, he swallowed a mouthful of hot bile that had been threatening to escape.
“Don’t worry, sugar,” Courtney said comfortingly. “I’m just the girl to keep him from trying to hump you.” She patted Harry on the shoulder and said cheerfully; “Speaking of which – I’m off to go shag my blond-boy-toy! There’s a bunch of cupboards on the third floor we haven’t fucked in yet!”
With a happy trot, Courtney left Harry and Hermione to go fetch Draco.
“I think I lost my appetite,” announced Hermione who had a green tinge to her face.
Harry, who assumed that his complexion was a shade that would of put Hermione’s green tinge to shame, just nodded his head in agreement. As a pair, the two turned and headed back to their chambers in silence. Harry was so lost in thoughts of Draco still pining away for him that he had forgotten about Hermione’s bum-plug and subsequent plan of spankings and shag.
However, Harry’s fears over the threat of Draco were chased from his head when he and Hermione entered their chambers to find a brilliant, silver doe waiting for them.
To Be Continued

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Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor
Chapter Eleven: Shhh be Vewy Vewy Quiet
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 Eleven Summary: We’re hunting howcwuxes
Harry and Hermione didn’t speak for nearly two and a half days, well, at least not with each other. Hermione was mad because Harry was being a child concerning her comments regarding adults and love. Harry was mad at Hermione because of her comments about parents and sex, as well as her off-color joke about Lily experimenting with Harry’s father’s animagus form. To Hermione, their conversation was about the happiness one should feel if adults, including those that were parents, were madly in love and willing to act upon their feelings. To Harry, it was a heated debate about unnatural and disturbing activities that some people shouldn’t do because had kids, and even worse, they were old. And that comment about his mum and Prongs made Harry feel a confusing combination of anger and revulsion.
It didn’t help Harry’s mood that the house-elves were still following Hermione’s orders and wouldn’t allow him cheese or any sweets. He even convinced Ron to sneak into the kitchen and fetch him some milk on the sly. Ron had no trouble in retrieving the milk, but as his friend went to hand the glass to him, an anonymous house-elf popped out of nowhere and snatched the cool beverage from Harry’s hands and disappeared.
For the first day, Harry did a very good job of ignoring Hermione. Whenever she entered a room that he was in, Harry would pretend to find something in the opposite direction of Hermione intensely interesting. For example, when he was in the Common Room and she entered through the Portrait Hole, Harry busied himself by inspecting the recently repaired hearth.
For that same day, Hermione did her best to break through Harry’s mood. She attempted to talk some sense into him, but he would either walk away from her or whistle loudly in hopes of drowning her out. When conventional methods of communication had failed, Hermione tried a more… primal approach. Later while Harry was trying to engage Ron in a game of Wizards Chess (the poor man was nearly comatose due to his own recent mental trauma), Hermione decided to read a book while sitting on the couch near Harry. Of course the book was Harry’s “special book”. And in an attempt to better break through Harry’s resolve, Hermione wasn’t wearing her normal clothes. She wore a two sizes too small pullover that hugged her skin; in fact, it hugged her so much that one could easily tell that Hermione wasn’t wearing a bra. The pullover had a very interesting design on the front. If anyone besides Harry or the House-Elves of Hogwarts saw the design, they would simply assume that Hermione liked cute Japanese cartoons. But as all of the House-Elves and Harry knew, Hermione had a bit of a naughty side. Due to the fact that the pullover hugged her so combined with her braless condition, the outline of Hermione’s nipples and areolas could easily be seen through “Hello Kitty’s” eyes. She didn’t stop there with her subtle assault against Harry’s stubbornness. To say that she was wearing a short plaid skirt was a bit of an understatement. It would be more accurate to say that she had tied a small plaid handkerchief around her shapely hips. Of course, when Hermione sat down near Harry, she made it a point to position herself so that her plaid handkerchief rose up slightly so that if Harry looked over he would’ve gotten a vice view of her bum. She wondered whether or not Harry realized that she wasn’t wearing her normal style knickers as added ammunition. She intentionally flashed him quite a bit of her unclothed bum.
But this was the first day and Harry was doing a very good job of ignoring Hermione. His stubbornness in his resolve to continue his childish anger made Hermione very mad. She had decided as she went to bed that night that if Harry wanted to hold a grudge, she would show him what a grudge truly was.
The next morning, Harry woke up feeling terrible. He had an unfamiliar pressure in his chest that was eating away at him. He couldn’t place what the painful sensation was. He sulked out of bed with his feet dragging behind him as he made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast alone (he had tried to wake Ron up, but his red-headed friend was mumbling in his sleep about something like “… trim that thing you nasty…”). As he was eating a bowl of cereal, Hermione came down to eat as well. The heavy sensation in Harry’s chest gnawed at him some more as she sat down at the Gryffindor table; mind you she made it a point to sit as far away from Harry as possible. Harry pushed his ponderings about the sensation in his chest to the side; he had a job to do. And that job was ignoring Hermione. He made of show of ignoring her by stomping his feet as he passed by her as he left the Great Hall. Harry was a little perplexed that Hermione seemed to be ignoring him right back.
Two hours later, Harry thought it was time to ignore Hermione some more. So he sought her out the Common Room where she was sitting on a squashy chair reading a book. He purposely threw himself down on the couch nearby with a thump, hoping to let her know that he was still ignoring her and as well as to agitate her. Apparently, his loud flop on the couch did not alert Hermione to his presence. She sat there on her chair, dutifully reading her book. Harry huffed loudly to indicate he was bored and had nothing to do, nothing besides ignore Hermione, that is. But how could Harry revel in his/ “ignoring Hermione”/ plan if she didn’t know that he was intentionally ignoring her?
The heaviness in Harry’s chest ate away a little more, while Hermione turned the page, completely oblivious to his presence. He huffed again, this time much louder and he accentuated his boredom by sighing heavily. Much to his chagrin, Hermione didn’t even bat an eyelash in his direction.
Suddenly, Harry found himself wanting to be just by her side while she read that book. He wanted her dainty frame pushed up against his body, as he sat there doing nothing but letting her pleasant scent wash over him, letting her warmth mingle with his. He was shocked to find himself desiring to turn the pages of her book for her as she rested her hands on his knees. He needed her to be by him.
Harry gulped as he realized that he was being an utter fool. Harry shot up and meekly called out her name, “Hermione?”
And Hermione turned the page. Again Harry tried to gain her attention, “Hermione?”
It seemed impossible, but Harry could have sworn that Hermione had redoubled her efforts to read the book. A thought dawned on Harry; he would show Hermione just how much he needed her by getting her a present, a flower perhaps!
Harry scurried out of the Common Room and headed toward the Green Houses, he was sure he’d be able to find a flower for Hermione there. Upon entering the Green House, Harry realized that his plan had one slight flaw; most of the flowers in the Hogwarts Green Houses could kill a person. Some would bite, others would spit venom, and still others would strangle their victims. It wouldn’t do for Harry to show Hermione how much he wanted and needed her by inadvertently killing her now would it? Thankfully, the gates leading to Hogsmeade were open and Harry trotted to the little village.
A few hours later, Harry returned to the castle with his prize. It was a lovely flower whose petals shone a different color depending on the angle of light. It would switch between shades of purple to red and to yellow, just by tilting it ever so slightly.
Harry found Hermione still in the Common Room, still reading, although Harry could tell it was a different book from earlier. He figured that it would be romantic if he would just saunter by and drop the flower on her open book. With such a perfect plan, Harry did just that. The flower’s stem landed in the seam of the book while the petals hung over the top of the binding. Harry reckoned that Hermione would be gushing (no, not that way – get your minds out of the gutter) over the flower in moments. However, Hermione’s reaction was somewhat different than Harry was expecting; Hermione quietly closed her book, trapping the stem in its pages. She then set the book aside, completely ignoring the beautiful flower sticking out of its pages, and retrieved another tome from her bag.
Harry’s heart plummeted to the floor. She ignored his thoughtful and beautiful gift. With his shoulders slumped, Harry sulked off to his room.
The next morning, Harry decided that because Hermione had cast aside his peace offering that he would continue to ignore his so-called girlfriend until she came to him. He decided that he would treat her the way she had him! He vowed anew that he would completely ignore her, even if she tried to make a similar, loving gesture. He decided that he would ignore her until she begged him for forgiveness. It was a matter of principle now.
Harry’s resolve lasted almost four full hours.
He walked into the Great Hall for lunch to find Hermione sitting across from a sullen looking Ron. Harry had intended to sit next to Ron, and do a wonderful job of ignoring Hermione. But the heaviness in his chest had become too much, and he found himself on his knees next to Hermione.
“Please, Hermione, please forgive me,” he pleaded. Harry’s pride was thrown to the four winds as he knelt next to the most beautiful witch in the world. He didn’t care if he was making an arse out of himself in front of her or Ron. He just wanted Hermione to hold his hand and smile at him while she said that all was forgiven.
But alas, Hermione’s resolve was much stronger than Harry’s. She continued to ignore him as she asked Ron to pass her the jam.
“I was wrong!” announced Harry. What he was wrong about he wasn’t sure, but something inside of him told him that it was the proper thing to say.
“Ah, that’s what I was waiting for,” stated Hermione and turned to Harry with a smile on her face. Of course it was an “I’m right and you’re wrong” smile but Harry didn’t care. All he cared about was that she was smiling and it was at him. The heaviness disappeared from his chest and warmth flowed through his veins. “I don’t understand why you reacted the way you did, Harry. I was only joking about your mother experimenting with your father’s animagus form.”
It was close enough for an apology to make Harry happy. He got up from the floor and took his place next to Hermione. With a smile on his face and one in his heart, Harry took her hand in his.
“I’m still right about you two being childish concerning parents and their sex lives,” added Hermione.
And the smile lessened in Harry’s heart and on his face.
“Oh for heaven’s sake, Harry,” Hermione said softly, while caressing his cheek. “I don’t understand why you and Ron are reacting in such a way? It’s completely natural for Molly and Arthur to do such things. I think it’s wonderful that they still are going at it after so many years of marriage.”
“But they’re parents Hermione,” argued Harry, his hand going clammy at the thought of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley doing /it/. “They’re not supposed to do such things.”
“Yeah, he’s right,” agreed Ron.
“Why?” asked Hermione. “Why aren’t they supposed to act on their love and be intimate?”
“Because they’re parents!” both Harry and Ron concluded. In their minds, the argument needed no further explanation. It was just the way it was, sort of like a Universal Rule of Parents. It was a clear-cut situation; parents kissed each other (and then only a light peck) and nothing more. Period. End of discussion. But Hermione didn’t understand that it needed no further discussion and pressed on.
“But why?” she asked.
“Because,” answered Harry stubbornly. If Hermione didn’t understand the Universal Rule of Parents, how was he going to teach her? He stood up and vented his frustration with his girlfriend’s unworldly-ness by pacing back and forth.
“Alright, let me ask you a hypothetical question, then,” began Hermione.
To which Ron asked, “/Hypo/-what?”
“Let’s say we get married,” Hermione said to Harry, tuning out Ron. “And we have kids.”
“Okay,” responded Harry immediately. He imagined the situation that Hermione proposed; he saw himself a few years down the line where he and Hermione had a couple of kids. Harry paused and reflected on this train of thought and his reaction, or lack there of. He wasn’t mortified at Hermione’s discussion of the two of them having kids in the least. Normally, when a teenaged male is in a discussion with his teenaged girlfriend and she starts talking about having kids, the male usually runs like hell; it’s the nature of things. But Harry was quite surprised to find that he wasn’t fearful of the thought of becoming the father to Hermione’s children. In fact, he found it pleasant. He felt his face heat up just at the thought of it.
“Ah, look, ikkle-Harry-kins is blushing,” Ron poked fun of his best mate. Apparently, his sour mood lifted slightly at the sight of his best mate blushing and more specifically, the opportunity to tease him about it.
Upon noticing Harry’s reaction to the thought of starting a family with her, Hermione started to blush as well. Harry assumed that she was just as happy as he was with the idea of becoming the mother of his children.
“Oh, wook,” Ron continued in a mock baby voice, “now ikkle-Hermione-kins is blushing too.”
The sight of his girlfriend’s cheeks turning red just made Harry happier. His imagination was now running rampant and started to create scenarios all on its own. Harry was now imaging bouncing their youngest child on his knee, while Hermione helped their oldest, home from Hogwarts for summer holiday, with her Transfiguration homework.
“Ah, now Harry-kins is glowing…” Ron started. “Um… Harry. You’re glowing. Really glowing!”
Harry couldn’t help but imaging what it would be like to read bedtime stories to his and Hermione’s kids. How proud he’d be when his son flew his first broom as he shouted, “Daddy, I’m doing it!” As Harry would beam with pride, he imagined Hermione would then walk up to him and tell him that she was pregnant again.
Ron was shielding his eyes to block out the golden rays that were emanating from his best mate’s body. He turned to Hermione to ask her what was going on, but was a little taken back to see her basking in the magical light. The look on her face was pure joy and love. The red haired wizard muttered a simple “wow” in awe.
“Don’t worry, Ron,” Hermione beamed as she relished Harry’s light. “Apparently Harry’s just inadvertently tapped into his love core.”
Finally noticing that he was throwing off light, Harry pushed the image of a family into the back of his mind and the glow slowly disappeared. In an embarrassed tone, Harry murmured, “Sorry ’bout that.”
“Don’t worry, Harry,” Hermione said, still blushing and looking like she was the happiest witch in the world. “I really liked it.”
“Whoa, this is weird,” commend Ron as he rubbed his chest. “I feel all warm and tingly… and happy. Why?”
“I think that’s Harry’s power,” explained Hermione. “I hadn’t consciously noticed it before, but in retrospect, whenever Harry taps into his love core and casts a spell, or in this case emits a magical light, the target feels a sense of deep, abiding love and happiness.”
“Really?” asked Harry. He was stunned at Hermione’s revelation concerning his magic.
“Yes, I realize it now that when you hit me with the super-charged Cheering Charm, not only did I feel ridiculously happy, but I also felt so much love,” answered Hermione. She added in an undertone, obviously hoping Ron wouldn’t hear; “And I felt it as well when you added your love to your Parselmouth magic.”
“You did?” Harry asked, in an awed undertone.
“Well, yes in hindsight I noticed it,” breathed Hermione. “Of course at the time, I was kind of overwhelmed with other feelings.”
“Why would it matter if Harry added his love energy to his Parselmouth abilities?” Ron interrupted. Apparently, his hearing was much better that Harry and Hermione had given him credit for.
“Never mind!” both Harry and Hermione commanded.
“Alright,” Ron said looking confused. Harry and Hermione both breathed a sigh of relief.
“Anyway, back to what I was saying,” Hermione changed subjects, away from Harry’s talented tongue. “Let’s say, hypothetically of course, that we have children.” Harry fought the joyous thoughts of starting a family with Hermione very hard as she continued. “And let’s say, after we’ve had two children, that I’m feeling a little amorous….”
“/Amo/-what-/us?/” interrupted Ron.
“Randy, Ron,” explained Hermione. Ron muttered an ‘oh’ in comprehension and Hermione continued. “Well, as I said, I’m amorous and I would like to perhaps give you another ‘birthday present’. Would you allow me to do that?” she asked, putting extra emphasis on the phrase “birthday present.”
A naughtily little grin appeared on Harry’s face at the recollection of the last ‘birthday present’ that he had received from Hermione. Even though his grin told Hermione his answer, Harry blurted out an overzealous, “YES!”
“Why wouldn’t you give him a birthday present, especially if you were married?” asked Ron, oblivious to the meaning of the phrase ‘birthday present’ when it came to his two friends. “It would be expected, I’d think.”
“That’s my point,” Hermione agreed, a knowing smile on her lips. Those luscious lips that made Harry and ‘Harry, Jr.’ so very happy.
Harry realized that Mrs. Weasley’s advice was moot concerning his aim when he considered Hermione’s version of a ‘birthday present.’ If Hermione swallowed, he wouldn’t have to worry about getting anything in her eyes.
“And what about Christmas presents?” asked Ron, still being Ron and not catching on.
“Oh well, Christmas is a very special occasion isn’t it?” Hermione asked. Her knowing smile abruptly changed into a naughty one. “Being his wife, I’d have to give him an extra special ‘gift’, wouldn’t I?” She emphasized her point by tossing her hands up into the air in a/ “why not?”/ gesture but then brought them back down rapidly on her own bum, causing a smacking noise.
To Ron, Hermione’s actions were completely innocent. But to Harry, it was less innocent and much more reminiscent of the “Smack my bottom” side of Hermione.
“And if he’s your husband,” Ron added, “he should give you birthday presents as well.”
“Of course,” Hermione agreed by subtly gesturing toward her groin. Of course, Ron didn’t catch the reference, but Harry did. Harry’s eyes glossed over at the memory of his lips on her flower.
“And don’t forget about his Christmas presents to you,” concluded Ron.
In a form of agreement, Hermione copied the same “why not?” gesture she had performed earlier and smacked her bottom again. She added, “I’d go as far to say that he wouldn’t need a special occasion to give me ‘presents.'”
A pressure in his boxers drew Harry’s attention. His fear about ‘Harry, Jr.’ not wanting to ever play again due to Mrs. Weasley’s advice and the accompanying visions was just proven wrong. Apparently, all the innuendos and imagery that Hermione was throwing out caught/ ‘Harry, Jr.’s/ proverbial eye. The organ woke up slowly as if from a deep and troubled sleep and began to look around. At first Harry was overjoyed because this minor action proved he wasn’t permanently scarred by Mrs. Weasley’s words, or even Hermione’s joke about his mum and stags. But Harry’s joy quickly turned to dread; he hadn’t worn his robes today, and ‘Harry, Jr.’ was starting to stand up causing a bulge to rapidly appear in his jeans. Normally, this wouldn’t have been a bad thing, but Ron was standing just a few feet away. And best mates shouldn’t see each other’s bits. Yes, Ron had unfortunately seen Harry’s bits, but Ron had not seen them… happy and ready for playtime/./
“But, I don’t get it,” started Ron, a confused look in his eyes. “I thought we were talking about our parents and sex, not presents. I mean…” Ron paused and his confused look was quickly replaced by disgust.
You see, Harry was in such fear of Ron seeing ‘Harry, Jr.’ at half-mast that he was too petrified to cover up.
“FOR THE LOVE OF MERLIN, MAN!” shouted Ron and his hand shot up in front of his eyes in a vain attempt to block the sight of a partially aroused /’Harry, Jr.’/. “You’re a perverted bugger, aren’t you? All we were talking about was presents, and you go and get a hard-” Ron halted his tirade and looked at Hermione who was practically in hysterics. Tears of laughter streamed down her bright read cheeks and she was biting her fingers, trying to stop herself from laughing out loud. “You were talking about sex weren’t you?”
“YES!” Hermione proudly declared and slapped the table with her hand. Her riotous laughter echoed off the walls of the Great Hall.
“Well at least I know Harry’s-” Ron began in a dejected tone.
“Yeah, yeah I know,” interrupted Harry, “I’m a true Gryffindor because I ‘dress right.'”
“I was gonna say that ‘at least you weren’t permanently scarred by my mum,'” corrected Ron. “Unlike me. I’ll die a virgin simply because, every time I’m with a woman I’ll either think about seeing my sister’s ‘/Wizard’s Sleeve/’ or my dad’s stuff all over my mum’s face.”
And with that, Harry’s erection vanished. He wasn’t sure if it was the mention of a cum-covered Mrs. Weasley or the mere thought of Gin-Gin, the Erection Killer that caused the sudden deflation.
“But I guess it’s good that you’re a ‘TrueGryffindor,'” added a sullen faced Ron. He pushed his plate away from him in disgust.
“Don’t worry, Ron,” Hermione attempted to comfort her friend. “I’m sure once you find the right girl, you’ll be a raging Hungarian Horntail.”
“I doubt that,” pouted Ron. He showed just how much he doubted that he would ever be able to “rise” to the occasion by poking his groin as if to check if it was alive.
“Trust me, with the right girl…” Hermione paused and shared a knowing look with Harry. “You’ll be so astonished by your virility that you’ll wonder if it’ll ever go down.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” mumbled Ron.
“How about you go back to the tower and take a kip?” suggested Hermione. “You’ll feel better after one.”
Ron nodded his head dejectedly, and sulked off to the Common Room. Ron muttered as he walked off; “I hope I don’t dream about my sister’s thing…”
“Poor Ron,” moaned Hermione. Harry nodded his head; he himself was nearly traumatized by seeing Ginny thrashing about on the floor naked, let alone Mrs. Weasley’s comments. Even though Harry tended to look at Mrs. Weasley as a mother-figure, and Ginny had a physical resemblance to his actual mother, Harry was not actually related to them. Ron was however, and Harry could only imagine what his friend was going through right now. Upon noticing Harry’s concerned look, Hermione said “Don’t worry, Harry. Once we set Ron up with Luna, he’ll forget about what his mother said and even about seeing Ginny’s bits.”
“I don’t know, Hermione,” said Harry worriedly. “I can’t see Luna’s feminine wiles chasing Ron’s demons away.” Harry liked Luna and he thought that she was rather pretty; it was just that Harry couldn’t see the petite Ravenclaw curing Ron’s mental state.
“I have a plan,” Hermione countered cryptically.
Still dubious of using Luna to boost Ron’s feelings, Harry offered, “Maybe we should consider the Patil twins for Ron after all?”
“Which one; Padma or Parvati?” asked Hermione.
“The twins – both of them,” Harry knew that it would be doubtful to bag both witches at the same time, but he also believed that they would be the only way to alleviate Ron’s predicament. Harry knew, just as every man knows, the sun seems to shine a little brighter when twins are involved. “Once Ron sees them play for a bit, he’ll forget all of his worries and join in.”
“Wait a minute,” began Hermione. Harry could tell by the look in her eye and the tone of her voice that she was about to enter “lecture mode.” “Ginny looks like your mother to the point that just the thought of figurative incest makes you run in fear. But you’re suggesting that two sisters stimulate each other for Ron’s pleasure. And you’re not bothered by the idea?”
“Course not.”
“Why is that?”
“Because they’re twins,” Harry answered a touch perturbed. Even though she was the brightest witch in their generation, sometimes Hermione’s simplicity could astonish Harry. Didn’t she even know the world-famous “it’s always better with twins” theory?
“You’re telling me that you would find an act of incest exciting? The mere thought of Padma… going down on Parvati is sexy to you?” Hermione asked, which was a mistake. It was a mistake because the image that she had described had entered Harry’s mind.
His eyes glossed over and he felt a pressure build up once more in his boxers as ‘Harry, Jr.’ started to wake up. At first Hermione didn’t notice Harry’s reaction and she continued to rant. “I mean, could you imagine Parvati sticking her finger in Padma’s quim?” And that is just what Harry did, and he imagined it quite well, thank you. Hermione finally noticed Harry’s state.
“For heaven’s sake, Harry!” she scolded.
But Harry didn’t hear his girlfriend. He was preoccupied with the very intriguing image of a twin getting a sticky finger from her sister.
“Harry, they’re sisters!” hissed Hermione. But her arguments fell on deaf ears, Harry was lost in his thoughts and judging by his bulge in his shorts, they were happy thoughts. There were two ways that Hermione knew would bring Harry back to reality. The first was to hit him with a Cold Water Charm, aimed directly at his groin. The sudden jet of frigid water to the crotch would probably enrage Harry, but it would end his perverted thoughts. The second way was one that Hermione knew to be much more insidious. Seeing how much of a prat he was being, she opted for the second.
Hermione walked up to Harry and whispered in his ear, “What was it like to have Ginny’s lips wrapped around your balls?”
The wonderful image of the Patil twins frolicking was destroyed by the image of Gin-Gin, the Erection Killer joining in on the fun. Harry groaned pitifully while ‘Harry, Jr.’ ran in fear.
“Incest is bad,” Hermione said in a patronizing way. “We’re not pure-blood bigots.”
She alleviated his quickly developing sour mood – a perfectly good fantasy dealing with the Patil twins and a jar of peanut butter was ruined forever thanks to Hermione mentioning Ginny – by kissing his lips. Harry’s bitterness evaporated completely as Hermione kissed him. Who could care about twins when someone as perfect as Hermione was around. Harry decided to change his fantasy so that, instead of the twins, it would feature him alone with Hermione and the jar of peanut butter. Yes, that’d do quite nicely.
“Let’s go write a letter to Luna,” breathed Hermione. “We need to ask her if she’d be willing to go on a date with Ron.”
After writing the letter which asked Luna to meet with Harry and Hermione, the pair walked to the Owlery and found Hedwig. After Hedwig showed her anger for being so unused in recent days, the snowy owl took the post and flew off.
**
The next day, Hermione decided to begin the hunt for the Horcruxes in earnest.
“Well, we definitely know the location of one Horcrux: Number Twelve,” Hermione stated as Ron and Harry listened. “And we can be fairly certain that it won’t have any traps surrounding it.”
“Okay,” Ron said glumly. He apparently was still in a deep depression because of his recent traumatic experiences. “I’ve got nothing better to do.”
Harry felt bad for his friend and hoped that Hermione’s plan would pull him from his stupor.
“Alright, let’s go,” announced Hermione. “Harry, go fetch the Sword.”
“Sword? What sword?” asked Harry.
“Don’t you remember, the Sword of Gryffindor?” reminded Hermione. “We need it to destroy the Horcrux.”
“Oh yeah, that,” Harry said, finally remembering the ancient weapon currently stashed in his trunk. “I’d forgotten about it.”
After fetching his sword, Harry met up with Hermione and Ron as they were making their way to the Headmistress’ office.
“About yesterday,” began Ron as the climbed the stairs to McGonagall’s office. “When Harry tapped into his love magic… well you said that you felt love when he hit with the Cheering Charm.”
“Yes, I didn’t notice it at first, but in retrospect, I do believe that I felt love,” explained Hermione.
“Okay then,” Ron continued. “So did Harry use his love magic when he used that super Stunner to knock out all those Death Eaters at Godric’s Hollow?”
“Yes,” replied Harry while Hermione began to open the door.
“Well, doesn’t that mean they would’ve felt Harry’s love when they were knocked out?” asked Ron.
Both Harry and Hermione froze as that question filled their minds. ‘Did the Death Eaters have a sense of love as they were stunned?’ Harry’s ponderings were abruptly ended when a pink haired witch greeted them.
“Wotcher, kids,” Tonks heralded with a wicked grin on her face. If Harry had not been so preoccupied about Ron’s question about the effect of his love magic on the Death Eaters, he would’ve been concerned about her grin. “Where’re you three off to?”
“Oh, just a little adventure,” Hermione responded a touch cryptically. Both Harry and Hermione knew that they could trust Tonks with the secret of the Horcruxes, but they also realized that the fewer the people who knew, the less trouble there’d be. “What brings you here?”
“Actually, I need to ask you lot a question,” Tonks began, her normally chipper mood suddenly became serious. “We were able to rennervate the Death Eaters Harry stunned….” Harry found it oddly coincidental that Tonks had mentioned the Death Eaters right when he and his friends were doing the same. “But we can’t revive my bitch of an aunt, Bellatrix.” Harry, Hermione, and Ron all shuddered at the mention of the unnaturally hairy witch. “She isn’t unconscious, but she isn’t responsive either.”
“Oh,” Harry replied nervously.
“That what Bellatrix says. A lot,” Tonks continued. “She just stares off into space and every once in a while she mutters an ‘oh’ and shivers.”
Harry looked over at Hermione who looked back at him. Whereas Harry’s look told Hermione that he was nervous and worried that Tonks would find out that he didn’t hit Bellatrix with a Stunner but actually made her have a mind blowing – literally- orgasm, Hermione’s look clearly told Harry that he was never allowed to use that specific ‘Pleasure Point’ technique on her; the repercussions were obviously too much.
“The Healers at St Mungo’s have been trying to revive her, but can’t seem to find a way,” Tonks explained. “She isn’t stunned. She isn’t unconscious; she’s just there, totally unresponsive to the world. As I said, the only thing she does is say /’oh’ /every now. And then her whole body just… shivers. Right after that, she gets the biggest grin I’ve ever seen on a person. Every time. It’s weird. Did you hit her with something other than a Stunner?” she asked Harry.
“NO!” Harry replied, a little too vehemently.
“Oh, well then, I’ll just head back and give the Healers an update,” Tonks stated and made her way to the fireplace. “I was hoping that maybe you might have an idea as to what was wrong with her. Not really a big loss, if you ask me.” She threw in a pinch of floo and said in a clear voice “St. Mungo’s!”
Before she disappeared, Harry could’ve sworn Tonks smiled wickedly and winked at him. Whatever the reason for this, Harry had no idea.
“Might I ask where this adventure of yours will take you?” asked McGonagall who was sitting behind her desk shuffling through some parchments.
“Oh, we’re going to Grimmaud Place,” Hermione replied.
“Why in heaven’s name are you going there?” inquired McGonagall.
“Um… we…. Ah…” Hermione stuttered trying to find a plausible excuse that would mask their real intentions for going to number twelve.
“We’re going to find… Kreacher…?” Harry offered very weakly. It wasn’t the truth, but he couldn’t tell McGonagall that the three of them were going on a mystical scavenger hunt, now could he?
“Kreacher is missing?” the Headmistress screeched and shot out of her chair. “How did that happen?”
“I kinda… told him he could…leave,” Harry admitted even more weakly. “And then he… kinda… told those Death Eaters to attack us at Godric’s Hollow.”
“That house-elf is too much of a loose cannon to be left wandering around,” McGonagall said. “Summon him here right now.”
“How can I do that?” asked Harry.
“That house-elf is your property, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall explained. “He is bound to you. All you have to do is call for him”
In that moment, Harry felt very slow witted; he had completely forgotten that he could call for his house-elf and that Kreacher would be compelled to obey. But in Harry’s defense, he had forgotten about the traitorous creature shortly after he had realized that it was Kreacher who had told Bellatrix to attack. Of course, the reason that Harry had forgotten was that was the time that a fairly nude Gin-Gin, the Erection Killer had molested him. Any thoughts he had regarding the house-elf had been quickly pushed to the back of his mind.
“Kreacher!” Harry called out in a clear voice. With a small pop, the dirty little house-elf stood in front of him.
“No! No! No! Master Harry Potter brat is supposed to be not living!” Kreacher cried out. “Mistress Bella said you’s be as good as not alive!”
“Where have you been?” asked Harry.
“Kreacher has been preparing the most noble house of Black for its proper owners,” answered Kreacher. Harry could tell that each word that the house-elf spoke was agony; it was obvious that Kreacher didn’t want to respond, but the bond forced him.
The vile house-elf threw himself to the floor wailing, “No! No! No! No!” as Hermione directed her attention to Harry.
“I hate to say this, but I agree with Professor McGonagall; he’s too dangerous to be allowed to roam around,” she said, ashamed to admit that this house-elf couldn’t be saved. “A simple slip of the tongue, and he’ll interpret it as a command to run back to his favored masters.”
“We could tell him that you are the Great One,” offered Harry. “And that he has to…”
Harry paused his line of thought because of the icy glare his girlfriend was giving him. It told Harry without words that she was very uncomfortable with being the prophesized savior of the house-elves and didn’t want to use any power that came with it. The glare also told him that if he ever wanted her to touch ‘Harry, Jr.’ again that he should shut up.
Added to Harry’s fear from Hermione’s expression was a little resentment. Hermione wasn’t opposed to using her status of the Great One to make sure Harry didn’t eat the foods he’d like, but she wouldn’t use them to control Kreacher.
As Harry shrunk from Hermione’s cold stare, Kreacher decided to show how displeased he was that Harry was still alive by biting Ron’s shin.
“You lousy little…” Ron screamed while trying to kick the offending vermin off of his leg. “Call him off Harry!” pleaded Ron.
But Harry had to carefully word his command because, knowing Kreacher, the little shite would take it as an order to leave. If only Kreacher was like Dobby; Harry never had to worry that any order that he gave Dobby would be misinterpreted as “go to the Death Eaters and tell them that they can kill me or someone I care about.” Of course, Dobby tended to be a little overzealous at times, taking the order to extremes much like he had when Harry had asked him to trail Draco last year. Harry’s mind wondered to a very disturbing thought in concern to his “overzealous” nature; Dobby admitted to “finishing off” his former mistress, Narcissa, when his former master, Lucius, had fallen asleep after sex. He imagined poor Dobby being yelled at by Narcissa for his lack of style and talent in the sack.
Then a clever, devious, and very nasty thought came to mind.
“Kreacher, come here,” Harry commanded. The house-elf did try to follow his master’s order, however, his master had not told him to let go of the red haired one and he attempted to drag the screaming wizard by his mouth.
“MAKE HIM STOP!” hollered Ron as the wrinkly house-elf tugged at his leg.
“Let him go and come here,” Harry ordered calmly. With a cross between a whimper and a growl, Kreacher released Ron and crawled over to Harry. “Now, Kreacher , I have something very important for you to do…”
“Be careful, Harry,” implored Hermione.
“Now, Narcissa Malfoy’s husband has been in Azkaban for over a year now,” Harry began.
“Master Luci only there because Master Harry Potter brat put him there,” interrupted Kreacher.
“Yes, I know it’s my fault,” agreed Harry. Ron, McGonagall, and Hermione looked at Harry as if he had lost his mind. “So I want to make it up to Narcissa. She has been very lonely these past few months and I want you to keep her company. But you have to keep her company in a very special way.”
“What kind of way would Kreacher have to keep mistress Narci company?” the house-elf asked dubiously.
Harry paused for dramatic effect before replying; “Amorous company.”
“What?” everyone in the Headmistress’ office screeched (including every single magical painting).
“Yes, amorous,” repeated Harry. “I know for a fact that Narcissa likes the touch of an elf.”
Kreacher shrugged his shoulders in acceptance. Everyone in the office could tell that the house-elf wasn’t keen on the idea of bedding a witch, but he liked it over the idea of being at the castle with blood traitors, the unclean witch, and his half-blood master.
“There are a few rules, though,” added Harry. “First; you must not communicate with anyone in any way. No speaking, no making sounds what-so-ever, no hand gestures, no writing, nothing. Second; you must be affectionate and amorous to Narcissa every waking moment – that’s your waking moments, not necessarily hers. Third, you can only be affectionate and amorous to Narcissa’s lower part of her right leg, her shin or calf only.
“Do you understand?” concluded Harry to which Kreacher nodded his head pitifully. “Repeat my orders.”
“Kreacher mustn’t be talking or nothing to anybody…” the house-elf gulp nervously before continuing. “And Kreacher must be making fun-time with Mistress Narci’s leg.”
“The lower part of her right leg,” corrected Harry.
“Yes, Kreacher must be making fun-time with Mistress Narci’s lower right leg all the time,” the surly elf repeated angrily.
“Fine then, go and do your duty” Harry commanded. Kreacher frowned and disappeared with a crack.
After staring dumbly at Harry for a good minute; Hermione asked, “Let me get this straight,” she began. “You ordered Kreacher to hump Narcissa Malfoy’s leg?”
“The lower part of her right leg,” Harry corrected.
“Constantly?” questioned Hermione.
“Yes, constantly,” answered Harry with a devilish smile.
All at the same time, Ron, McGonagall, and Hermione shuddered. Harry assumed that they were quite disturbed by the image of the wrinkly old house-elf rubbing his bits on Draco’s mother’s calf while kissing her knee.
“Alright,” Harry said, drawing everyone out of their disturbing images. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Wait a second,” interrupted McGonagall. “Why are you still going to Grimmauld Place if you’ve already taken care of Kreacher?”
“Um…” Harry began. He was all out of ideas so he turned his left to Hermione.
“Err…” Hermione muttered and turned to Ron on her left, because, apparently, she was out of ideas as well.
Ron didn’t even try to hem or haw, he just immediately looked to his left. Unfortunately, no one was to Ron’s left, which left him in a pickle.
Now, it was very unfair for Harry and Hermione to do this to Ron. When he was under pressure, Ron tended to either lock up, babble incoherently, or sometimes scream much like he did when he asked Fleur out to the Yule Ball. This time, he managed to do all three at the same time.
At first, he spent a good ten seconds staring at McGonagall in shock. The Headmistress watched Ron with a calm demeanor for the first five seconds of silence, but then her appearance became quite stern because she was obviously upset that Ron wasn’t answering. This caused Ron to become even more nervous and made his blood pressure spike – mind you; Harry and Hermione were looking at him expectantly as well, which just increased his blood pressure even more. Ron’s face turned an unhealthy shade of red and sweat poured off of his body.
Then, he finally forced himself to speak. Which was a mistake.
“I like kittens,” he mumbled at such a low voice that his audience of McGonagall, Harry, and Hermione leaned in very close to Ron. Which was unfortunate on their part seeing that Ron was about to enter his shouting phase. “I HAVEN’T GOTTEN WOOD IN DAYS”
All three of the listeners recoiled and began rubbing their ears in an attempt to ease the pain – that and vainly try to physically remove the sad image that Ron just gave them.
“Aw, that’s too bad, boy,” a gruff voice sounded from somewhere in the shadows. “Might I suggest a good ol’ fashioned ‘Hogwarts Express Pleasure Train’? Granger can be the engine, Potter the coal cart. Minerva can be the passenger compartment, Weasley the luggage compartment. And I’ll be the caboose!”
“Don’t you bother anyone else?” Hermione hissed irritable as the ghost of Gryffindor stepped out of the darkness.
“I bother a number of people, love,” Gryffindor said proudly. “You lot are my favorite, though.”
“Did he… did he just offer to bugger me?” asked a now very white face Ron. You see, it wasn’t everyday that a ghost stated that he wanted to bum-shag him. In fact, no one ever had; living or dead.
“Any port in a storm, boy,” Gryffindor confirmed with a very scary smile causing Ron to shudder.
“What the hell are you doing here?” demanded Harry. He hadn’t realized when had moved, but he found himself standing in front of Hermione, shielding her from the lecherous spirit.
“I’m a ghost, I don’t eat, I don’t sleep, I get bored,” explained Gryffindor.
“We’d like to stay and chat,” began Hermione. Harry turned to see her throw some floo powder into the fireplace. “But we have to leave.”
Once the flames turned green, Hermione stepped in and announced her destination in a loud and clear voice, “Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.” And she disappeared.
Harry tried to follow directly after Hermione but Ron halted him. “Let me go first,” Ron offered nervously. “That way I can catch you when you fall through the floo.”
Harry could tell that wasn’t Ron’s real intention by the fearful look in his eyes. Even though Harry wanted to put as much distance between Gryffindor’s ghost and himself as soon as possible, he allowed Ron to go first. Harry reckoned that with all the troubling images that Ron had suffered lately he deserved to get away from the ghost who wanted to part of a McGonagall/Ron/Gryffindor sandwich.
After Harry nodded, Ron hopped into the floo and shouted, “Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place!” and disappeared.
Harry grabbed a pinch of powder and stepped into the green fire. He looked apologetically at McGonagall whose face was a mask of dread. He could tell that the Headmistress was pleading with her eyes; saying something along the lines of “Don’t leave me alone with Gryffindor!” Harry hated to abandon McGonagall with the perverted specter, but he had to go and destroy the Horcrux. “Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place,” he declared and began spinning.
Ron was true to his word and caught Harry when he came flinging out of the floo. However, this only caused both wizards to go crashing into the kitchen table causing a very loud racket which woke up the magical painting of Mrs. Black.
“WHAT GOING ON?” the painting screeched. “WHO’S THERE?
“I hate that thing,” said Hermione as she covered her ears to protect herself from Mrs. Black’s unnaturally loud voice.
“WHO DARES TO ENTER MY HOUSE?” shouted Mrs. Black.
“Let’s shut her up before we find the Horcrux,” said Harry.
“ANSWER ME OR FACE MY WRATH!”
“I agree,” replied Hermione.
“KREACHER! KREACHER, MY FAITHFUL SERVANT, WHERE ARE YOU?” the painting called out. “IF THEY ARE OF GOOD STOCK, WELCOME THEM! BUT IF THEY ARE BLOOD TRAITORS, OR WORSE, THROW THE FILTH OUT!”
The trio scampered out of the kitchen and into the hall. Harry had hoped to draw the heavy curtains to muffle Mrs. Black, but he was surprised to see them missing.
“Where the hell are the curtains?” Ron asked, apparently he had the same idea as Harry.
“VILE COMTEMPTUOUS VERMIN!” Mrs. Black screamed even louder upon noticing Harry and his friends. “YOU FILTH ARE NOT WELCOMED HERE!”
Hermione whipped out her wand and began to wave it in front of the painting as Mrs. Black continued to scream and holler. A curtain made out of some kind of thin fabric appeared in front of the bellowing Mrs. Black. Unfortunately, it did little to stop the dead woman’s screams. In fact, her screams tore the curtain to threads.
“She’s distracting me too much,” admitted Hermione. “I can’t concentrate properly to make a strong enough fabric!”
“THAT’S BECAUSE YOU’RE A MUDBLOOD AND A HARLOT!” called out Mrs. Black.
“I am not!” defended Hermione.
“ARE TOO!” retorted the painting.
“AM NOT!” counted Hermione.
“ARE TOO!”
Hermione took a step back and a calming breath. “I cannot believe I’m having such a childish argument with a painting of a dead person!” She turned to Harry and simply said, “Make her stop.”
“How?” asked Harry.
“I don’t know,” stated Hermione. “You’re the most powerful one here. Just tap into your love core and cast a spell on her.”
“I’ll try,” Harry said dubiously. He leveled his wand at the painting.
“DO YOUR WORST, BOY!” Mrs. Black taunted. “BETTER WIZARDS THAN YOU HAVE TRIED AND FAILED! AND YOU”RE NOTHING MORE THAN A HALF-BLOOD!”
Harry tried to focus on his love, but it proved rather difficult. The mad witch in the painting did a good job of pissing him off, and therefore he had too much trouble focusing on loving thoughts or memories. Hermione must have realized that her boyfriend was having difficulty because she placed her hand in his. Harry turned and looked into her lovely hazel eyes. She placed a chaste kiss on his lips and Harry felt a tingle wash over his body. He turned back to the portrait and pushed that tingling sensation through his wand. A flash of white light erupted from Harry’s wand and Mrs. Black’s eyes glazed over.
“What was that?” Hermione asked as she looked at the still form of Mrs. Black. “What spell did you use?”
“I dunno,” muttered Harry. He turned his attention to his girlfriend and tried to explain. “I just focused on my power is all.”
“Oh, Harry,” a sing-song voice called softly from the portrait. The trio of friends all turned back to the painting and gasped at what they saw. The overall picture had not changed; it was still an elderly Mrs. Black sitting in front of a bookcase. But what had changed was her demeanor and expression. Her cheeks were flushed and she had a twinkle in her eyes; one might even argue that it was a loving twinkle. “Hullo, my dear, dear Harry,” Mrs. Black greeted with a cute little wave. Harry cringed. “It’s been so long since my husband passed away. I’m in need of a good rogering!”
Harry felt very dizzy. Here was a painting of an old woman asking him to shag her.
“I know I’m just a painting,” Mrs. Black continued. “But you can rub your willy against the canvas and we can pretend.”
Harry turned to look at Ron and Hermione for help. But both of them were staring, open mouthed and in shock at the painting.
“Here, let me give you something that will stimulate you, my beautiful Half-Blood,” Mrs. Black offered and began to pull down her blouse. Harry ran like a bat out of hell before Mrs. Black could reveal even an inch of pasty flesh! He tore around the corner and was up the stairs before he heard Ron and Hermione scream. Thunderous footfalls announced that his friends had finally come to their senses and ran. Hermione dove at Harry and wrapped her trembling arms around his chest. Ron slumped against the wall and muttered, “So saggy… so very saggy…”
“Did you see the tattoo?” Hermione murmured with fear evident in her voice.
“Tattoo? I thought that was a birthmark,” replied Ron in a dead, lifeless voice.
“No, it was a tattoo of the Black Family crest,” corrected Hermione. She buried her face into Harry’s chest and cried softly. “Why would anyone do that to their own tit?”
Harry gently ran his fingers through his girlfriend’s hair in an attempt to sooth her troubled mind. Of course, while he was doing that, he was valiantly trying not to imagine the Black Family Crest tattooed on any part of Mrs. Black’s body much less her so very saggy boobs.
The three friends sat in silence for a good long time… well mostly in silence. Every once in a while, Mrs. Black would call out things like “Harry, I’m waiting for you,” “I know what a wizard really likes,” and Harry’s personal mind scarring favorite; “I’m so wet I need a mop!”
“Okay, let’s get this over with,” Harry stated with just a sight tremble in his voice. The trio came up with the ingenious plan to sneak by Mrs. Black’s painting with their eyes shut (so they wouldn’t see the wrinkly hag) with Harry in the lead. Harry bolted by Mrs. Black (who was shouting “Harry, my heart of hearts; look what I can do with my fist!) with his eyes firmly shut. He was hoping that his memory would lead him to the kitchen. This, as many things in Harry’s life, didn’t go as planed. He ran into a wall twice (Harry was fairly certain it was the same wall), tripped over Ron’s feet when he had tried to backtrack (he knew that it was Ron’s feet because of their size), and bumped up against Hermione a grand total of three times (the first two times were accidents — the third time, however, was a blatant boob squeeze moment; Harry couldn’t help it, he really did like her boobs and he was a teenager after all). The trio finally came crashing into the kitchen with Mrs. Black still calling out; “Oh, Harry, my wondrous love, imagine your trouser basilisk in here instead of my fist!”
Hermione slammed the door and cast several Silencing Charms on it, finally blocking out the wretched old witch’s cries of passion.
“Why didn’t you just do that before?” asked Ron as Hermione put the finishing touches on her charms. “Why did we go up there and try to quiet her when we could’ve just Silenced the door?”
“I didn’t see you offer to do it!” Hermione shot back.
“I’m not the brains of-” countered Ron.
“That’s obvious-”
“Stop it!” shouted Harry. He knew that Hermione and Ron were a little on edge because of Mrs. Black’s antics and that they were just venting their frustrations on each other, but they had a mission. “Let’s do this.” Harry finished by pulling Gryffindor’s sword out of his robes.
At first, it seemed that Harry had lost control and was slashing the sword about madly. It swung in Harry’s hands this way and that; it was if the sword had a will of its own.
“Watch where you swing that thing,” Ron warned as he dodged behind the kitchen table.
After a brief moment of panic, Harry remembered that Gryffindor had told him that the sword would act like a divining rod when it was near one of the Horcuxes. “Don’t worry,” announced Harry. “It’s just searching for the Horcrux.”
Just as Harry finished his statement, the sword stopped swinging and pointed at the cupboard. Hermione stepped in front of Harry and opened the door. There, on the floor on top of a pile of rags, sat the golden cup of Hufflepuff.
“What do we do now?” Ron asked after the left the protection of the table and stood next to Harry.
“We destroy it,” answered Hermione as she too took her place next to Harry as well.
“Yeah, but how?” Ron wondered.
Harry was baffled. Gryffindor told him that the sword was supposed to be used to destroy the Horcruxes, but he didn’t say how to do it.
“Maybe it’s like a wand,” offered Hermione. “Try using a Blasting Hex using the sword as a wand.”
Willing to try anything at that moment, Harry pointed the sword at the cup and incanted; “Reducto!” and squinted his eyes. Harry was prepared for just about anything to happen. But nothing happened all. No destruction of the cup; no blasting hex; the sword didn’t even twitch or move in the slightest.
The cup sat unmoved and unscathed on top of the pile of rags, oblivious to Harry’s actions.
“It didn’t work,” Hermione stated aloud.
“Of course that didn’t work,” a gruff voice sounded from behind them. Harry groaned as he recognized the voice of the ghost of Gryffindor. “It’s not a wand. It’s a sword for Merlin’s sake.”
“He followed us?” Ron asked when the trio turned to face the perverted specter. “How’d he get here so quick?”
“I used the floo,” answered Gryffindor.
“But ghosts can’t do that,” Ron said frantically. “It’s impossible!”
“You’ll find that this ghost can do a number of things other ghost can’t do. Unfortunately,” Hermione informed. And as if to prove Hermione’s point, Gryffindor tweaked Ron’s nipple.
Harry ignored Ron’s yelp and demanded; “Well then, how the bloody hell do I use it?”
“It’s a sword,” Gryffindor said in a perturbed manner. “Its got a point: you stab with that end,” the ghost continued, speaking in a slow cadence to underscore his sarcasm. “It also has a cutting edge along the length of the blade: you can cut things that way.”
“Oh,” Harry, Hermione, and Ron all muttered at the same time. Of course, Ron had his hands pressed firmly over his nipples in order to protect them from the nasty ghost.
“‘Oh’ they say,” Gryffindor mocked. “Don’t they teach common sense at that school anymore? Thinking that a sword is more than a sword. Why would I create a sword if I was going to use magic through it? That’s what a wand is for.”
Harry tuned Gryffindor’s insults out and concentrated on the golden cup. His heart was beating like a drum as he held the blade hung over the Horcrux. ‘What will happen?’ Harry wondered to himself. ‘/Will it explode in fire and sparks? Will thick black smoke billow out of it?’ / Resolving himself to find out, Harry shut his eyes and let the sword fall toward the Hufflepuff relic. The edge of the blade tapped the cup gently and it broke apart with a barely audible “clink.”
That was it.
There was no explosion, no fire, no smoke, nor any bright lights; nothing. The Horcrux just laid there on the pile of rags, cut cleanly in two. Harry stared at it dumbly, waiting for something spectacular to happen, to confirm in a way that it had worked and more importantly that the fragment of Voldemort’s soul was destroyed. But nothing happen.
“Well, that’s a bit anti-climatic,” Ron stated, ending the silence, “wasn’t it?”
“Shouldn’t there have been an explosion or something?” asked Hermione.
“That’s what I was thinking,” answered Harry while still looking at the broken Horcrux, expecting it to do something… anything really.
Then it happened. At first it was a quiet sound, something that Harry had to strain his ears to hear, but slowly it grew. It was a scream full of agony and misery. It was pitiful to hear and Harry turned away from the horrible thing that was emanating the sound. Only to find that the scream wasn’t coming from the ruined Horcrux, but rather from the ghost of Godric Gryffindor. Apparently, the list of annoying talents the ghost possessed included the ability to throw his voice.
Even though the ghost was screaming pitifully, Harry could tell that Gryffindor was on the edge of a fit of laughter.
“Would you please stop that?” asked Harry mirthlessly.
Gryffindor abruptly stopped screaming and started laughing. Silvery tears of joy streamed down his face as Hermione spun around with a stunned look on her face. “That was you?” Hermione asked, scandalized. “We thought it was coming from the Horcrux!”
“Why would an inanimate object scream?” Gryffindor asked in-between peals of laughter.
“Because…. Because it’s a Horcrux!” Harry answered passionately.
“Big deal,” retorted Gryffindor. “What were you expecting? Something like the fragment of Voldemort’s soul taking shape and begin to jump around? Or even a flash of lightning? Why think small: why not have the walls come tumbling down around you?”
“Well… yes,” Harry replied sullenly. He had in fact, expected something along those lines to happen.
“Even if Voldemort had put a curse or hex to protect his soul fragment, my sword would’ve protected you from it,” informed the ghost. “Remember, I told you that already.”
“That’s no excuse to make fun of us,” Ron stated.
“Yes, it is!” Gryffindor replied, before another bout of laughter hit him.
Harry shook his head and signaled for Hermione and Ron to follow. As the trio made their way to the kitchen fire-place, Gryffindor asked, “Wait a tick, where are you lot going?”
“Back to Hogwarts,” answered Harry.
“All right, let me tag along,” Gryffindor said and fell in line behind Ron.
Harry and Hermione sighed while Ron gulped. None of them wanted the perverted ghost to follow them, they had had enough of his antics for a while. Then Harry got an idea; one that would hopefully entertain Gryffindor for a while and leave them alone.
“Oi, Gryffindor, there’s a magical painting of an old bird out there,” Harry started.
“So? There’s plenty of those paintings back home,” Gryffindor replied, dismissing Harry’s statement.
“This is different. She’s randy,” Harry said.
“Really!” Gryffindor said gleefully, reversing his stance on returning to Hogwarts. “Where’s this lovely lass?”
Harry pointed to the door and the ghost – somehow – threw the door open and scurried out. As Hermione disappeared in the fireplace; Harry could hear Gryffindor greet Mrs. Black. “Well, hello there, luv. NICE TATTOO!”
“Who are you?” Mrs. Black screeched. Ron practically jumped into the green flames and couldn’t say “Hogwarts” fast enough. “Where’s my beautiful half-blood, my prince of princes, Harry?”
“Oh, he’s a bit busy, poppet,” Gryffindor said silkily. “But he told me to entertain you for a bit.”
“Really?” Mrs. Black asked and Harry stepped into the flames and grabbed a pinch of floo powder. “Well I guess that’s fine then.”
“Hogwarts; Headmistress’ office!” announced Harry. But before he left Grimmauld Place, he heard Mrs. Black moan lustily and Gryffindor exclaim, “WOW! I’ve never seen anyone do that with their own fist before!”
To Be Continued

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