Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor
Chapter Thirteen: Hooters Galore!
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 Thirteen Summary: Luna lends her hand to the Hunt!
With a bounce in his step and a smile like he was the kneazle who ate the fairy, Ron joined Harry and Hermione for breakfast in the kitchen the next morning. Normally, the three friends would’ve had their morning meal in the Great Hall, but the House-Elves were still out spreading the word that the Great One had arrived. So the trio was forced to prepare their own meals.
Harry was loathed to admit it, but Ron was positively glowing (he was loathed to admit it because one bloke never describes another as “positively glowing” – well the Creevey brothers might, but not Harry).
“I hope you don’t mind,” Ron began while he shoveled great piles of food onto his plate, “but I invited Luna over for breakfast.”
“That’s wonderful,” Hermione cheered. Harry could tell by the look on her face that his girlfriend was overjoyed because her plan had worked. Her cheeks were flushed and she had a smile that threatened to split her face open. Harry couldn’t help but to feel happy for his best mate as well.
“I told her how to enter the kitchen, so she knows where to find us,” Ron stated. “Anyway, I had the strangest dream last night.”
“Was it about Luna?” asked Hermione. Harry knew she was hoping to hear some romantic story about Ron and Luna, even if it was a dream.
“No,” Ron smiled even more when Luna’s name was mentioned. “Harry and I were playing chess in the Common Room, and you were cheering us on,” he said to Hermione.
“Well, what’s strange about that?” asked Hermione.
“The strange part was that you were really loud,” informed Ron. “You kept screaming ‘Yes, Harry that’s it!’ and ‘Sweet baby //Maeve//!’ And every once in a while you’d kick out your legs and knock something over and then say ‘Yes!’ It was weird.”
Harry nearly choked on his food as he heard Ron’s tale. Harry could tell that Hermione wanted to run away and hide. Apparently, even though Ron had been dead asleep, he still heard Hermione’s cries of passion when Harry had done his best to return the pleasure Hermione had given him before Ron returned from his date. Luckily, Ron had just thought it was part of his dream and didn’t realize that Harry was using his Parselmouth and love-based magic to make Hermione a very happy and satisfied witch.
“So tell us about the date,” Hermione said with a hint of hope in her voice. Harry reckoned that she hoped that Ron would drop the discussion of his dream.
“We realized it was a fake Lust Potion after…” Ron began, and his face lit up even more. “After we… you know. Anyway, I guess I need to thank for tricking me like that. If I hadn’t thought you’d dosed me, I probably would’ve done something rash.”
Harry wondered what Ron considered rash; apparently getting a hand-job in a pub from a girl he was set up on a blind date, after only saying hello to no less than two minutes before, wasn’t an action Ron considered /’rash’/.
“So, as I was saying, after you two left, Luna and me, we started talking. She doesn’t know much about Quidditch, but she says she’d like to learn,” Ron stated as he continued to recap his date. “And she listens, I mean, really listens. I’m not stupid; I know that I say some pretty dumb things. Sometimes, I just can’t find the right words, or I get frustrated and I say things I don’t really mean. But Luna just sat there and listened to me. It was as if she knew what I was saying when I didn’t even know how to put it into words. After a few minutes, she was actually finishing my sentences for me; do you know what I mean?”
“Yeah, we know…” began Harry.
“…how that feels,” concluded Hermione.
With a smile, Ron went back to happily shoveling copious amounts of food into his mouth. But Harry realized that Ron’s recollection of his date was a little lacking; it didn’t explain his state when he walked in on Harry and Hermione the night before. Ron was utterly exhausted, and his clothes were a tattered mess. According to his story, after he received the public hand-job, he and Luna talked. As Harry knew, hand-jobs were nice, but they usually didn’t leave one exhausted. And it definitely didn’t cause one to get their robes all torn up. So Harry figured that something else must have happened to Ron, perhaps after the date ended. Maybe he wasn’t paying attention while he was lost in his happiness over the date, and tripped down some stairs.
Before Harry could inquire as to what happened, footfalls drew the three friends’ attention to the entrance of the kitchen. From the open doorway, a very happy looking Luna Lovegood strolled in. The first thing Harry noticed was her cute smile and the glow in her cheeks. The second thing he noticed was that she was walking funny, as if she was in some discomfort. He wondered briefly if she had fallen like Ron might have.
Hermione, on the other hand, lost her happy and proud look. It was replaced by anger, and it was directed at Ron. Harry was taken back at Hermione’s sudden change in demeanor and was about to ask her what was wrong when she hissed across the table at their red-haired friend. “Ron. What. Did. You. Do?”
Ron hung his head in a mixture of shame, embarrassment, pride, and happiness but remained silent. Luna took her place next to Ron, but Harry saw that she was sitting a little funny. She seemed to place all of her weight on the side of her hip; Harry thought that couldn’t be comfortable for her.
“Luna, are you okay?” Harry asked with concern before taking a bit of food.
“Harry, I’ll explain-” Hermione began, but Luna interrupted her.
“I’m a little sore because Ronald made me a woman last night,” the blonde witch informed them. Harry did, in fact, choke on his food this time. While Hermione was trying to help Harry breathe by slapping him on the back, Luna explained further. “After he came in my hand, we talked for a while. Then Ronald tossed me on the table and plowed my virgin fertile fields.”
Finally, Harry was able to dislodge the bit of food that was blocking his airway and took a huge gulp of air.
“But, wait,” Harry started. “Ron, you said that you’d figured that out it was a fake Lust Potion after the…” Harry paused, hesitant to say the name of that particular – and extremely fun – activity in front of Luna simply out of embarrassment.
“You mean, after he came in my hand?” Luna asked and Harry blushed. “Harry, it’s called a hand-job. I’m surprised you didn’t know.” Harry gaped at her like a fish out of water as she turned her attention to Hermione. “It’s a wonderfully easy way to please a wizard. I can give you some tips on how to do it if you’d like, Hermione.” As Harry continued to gape at Luna, Hermione stared bug-eyed at the blonde witch. “First, you have to lubricate your hand; you own saliva will do nicely. Then you just squeeze – but not too hard though – and pump. It’s fairly easy. I have to warn you though, the ejaculate gets all over,” Luna paused once more and her smile got even brighter as she turned to Ron. “It was so warm and sticky… I just couldn’t help but to lick-”
“But that doesn’t explain why you two had sex!” Hermione interrupted to which Harry was grateful. He was glad that Ron and Luna had connected (though he was a little shocked to see that they had connected in that manner) but he didn’t want intimate details.
“Hermione, I’m so surprised by you,” Luna replied patiently. “That’s the problem with some intelligent people; very smart when it comes to books, but a little slow in other areas.” Luna began to speak slowly, as if she were speaking to a child, “Sometimes when a Hippogriff meets a Unicorn-”
“We were just caught up in the moment,” Ron put in.
“Yes, we were caught up in the moment three times before Tom threw us out of the Leaky Cauldron,” Luna clarified.
It was as if both Harry and Hermione’s jaws had hit the table. Three times! Ron had shagged Luna three times! Including the hand-job, that meant that Ron had cummed four times!
Hermione looked at Harry and her eyes clearly asked,/ “Can you cum four times?”/
/Harry responded with his eyes, “Not in a row.”/
/ /”Then we were caught up in the moment again in the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron,” continued Luna.
“And then there was the time outside the twins’ shop,” added Ron.
“No wonder you’re sore,” Hermione muttered. Harry looked at his friend in shock and awe. Six times… one after the other. No wonder he was almost comatose when he walked into their dorm room last night. Along with the sense of awe, Harry’s confidence was knocked down just a little. He realized, at best, he could do it twice, and then only if he was really riled up. And here Ron could do it six times!
“To be honest, each time was what I’d call /’short and sweet,’/” Luna confessed. A bit of Harry’s confidence returned – of course it was at the cost of Ron’s self-esteem. The red-haired teen looked like he had just been hit across the face.
“But of course it doesn’t really matter now that I think about it,” Luna cooed while caressing Ron’s cheek. “I mean, we did have sex for nearly twenty consecutive minutes. I lost count of how many times I orgasmed.”
“Twenty minutes!” both Harry and Hermione screeched and Ron beamed at his own masculine prowess. Harry knew that he was lasting longer and longer each time he and Hermione were intimate, but twenty minutes! He was lucky if he had lasted five minutes the night before. Harry was equally jealous and impressed with Ron’s stamina and virility.
“I have to tell you something; witch to witch,” Luna said to Hermione. “When a man ejaculates in your pussy as much as Ronald did in mine, you’d better know a good Cleansing Charm.”
“This is all my fault,” Hermione wailed. “If I hadn’t tricked you two into thinking I gave you a Lust Potion, you could have talked a little and made a deep connection.”
“But we did talk and make a connection,” Ron countered.
“Yeah, they connected six times,” Harry mumbled. “In a row.”
“No you didn’t. You talked for all of fifteen minutes,” continued Hermione. “Then you shagged like a pack of… a pack of-”
“Peruvian Short-Tooth Love Monkeys?” offered Luna.
“Yes!” Hermione agreed – Harry knew that Hermione had no idea what Peruvian Short-Tooth Love Monkeys were or what their mating habits were like, but that she had agreed to Luna’s analogy just to move the conversation, or rather, the argument along. After a second, Hermione continued, “I had hoped you two would have a deep and meaningful relationship; that you’d talk for hours and hours. But you two spent the night shagging each others’ brains out.”
“But we did talk,” stated Luna.
“I know you did,” Hermione said with a touch of disappointment in her voice. Harry knew that she was only a little disappointed with Ron and Luna’s actions; most of the frustration that Hermione was feeling was with herself. Harry knew that his girlfriend was berating herself for not coming up with a better plan. “But you only talked for a short while, then you two had sex on one of the tables in the Leaky Cauldron.”
“But we talked during that time as well,” Luna said.
“What?” both Harry and Hermione blurted out.
“It’s amazing what one will say in between thrusts,” Luna stated dreamily. “I feel like I know Ronald completely.” Luna turned to her boyfriend, and looked as if she was lost in his eyes. “His favorite color is orange.”
“Luna’s is lilac,” Ron said as he too became lost in his girlfriend’s eyes. “I didn’t even know it was a color; I thought that it was just a flower.”
“Ronald’s afraid of spiders,” Luna continued.
“So is Luna,” added Ron.
“His dream is to coach Quidditch.”
“Her dream is to prove to the world that Snorkacks really do exist.”
“The three of you are hunting You Know Who’s Horcruxes.”
Harry’s heart stopped beating for two whole seconds. He could feel Hermione tense up next to him.
“She’s so creative with vegetables,” added Ron, oblivious to the fact that his girlfriend just admitted that he had told her a very big secret.
“Ronald likes the smell of coffee,” Luna continued. “But he doesn’t like the taste.”
“You told her?” moaned Hermione while Harry just looked at Ron dumbstruck.
“Why not?” Ron questioned. “I don’t like coffee.”
“No, you prat,” Harry chided. “You told her about the Horcruxes.”
“I did?” Ron asked himself more than anyone else.
“Yes, you did,” Luna replied. “It was when we were outside your brothers’ shop. You remember, it was when you missed your target.”
“Oh, yeah,” Ron said sheepishly.
“Don’t worry Ronald, they are fairly close together now that I think about it,” Luna consoled her boyfriend with a tender caress of his cheek. “It’s completely understandable that you missed in the heat of the moment.”
“Luna you’re not supposed to know about it,” Hermione said.
“Why shouldn’t I?” Luna asked, completely befuddled. “I do know for a fact that Ronald missed.”
“No, not that,” Hermione explained. “You’re not supposed to know about Voldemort’s Horcruxes.”
“Yeah, you can get in trouble,” added Harry. “If Voldemort or his followers know that you know something, they will try to make you talk.”
“Harry, you know as well as anybody, most people simply assume I’m insane,” Luna put in. “Even if I did get caught, no one would bother to listen to me. Besides, I think I can help you. And I want to help any way I can.”
Pausing, Harry thought on what Luna said. He already knew that she was trustworthy, dependable, and intelligent. She had proven her loyalty and bravery when she joined them to invade the Department of Mysteries. Harry decided that he believed that she could indeed help with their hunt for the Horcruxes. He turned to his girlfriend and with a simple nod of his head, told Hermione that he thought that the notion of Luna joining their group was a good idea.
“Alright, you’re in,” announced Hermione.
“Thank you,” Luna beamed.
The two couples ate in silence for a moment before Hermione’s curiosity got the better of her.
“Luna, you said that Ron told you about the Horcruxes when he missed his target. What did you mean by that?” Hermione asked.
“After pulling back too far, Ronald tried to reenter me, but he missed his target,” explained Luna. Both Harry and Hermione were a little confused while Ron was blushing madly. “It was a bit uncomfortable at first, but Ronald seemed to be enjoying himself immensely so I just relaxed. I’m just glad that Ronald’s penis was well lubricated by our juices from the pervious times he plowed my fertile fields, otherwise it probably would’ve been unbearable, if you know what I mean.”
Harry gulped as Luna’s tail… err… tale became clear while Hermione muttered once more; “No wonder you’re sore.”
Thankfully, any further revelations of Luna and Ron’s incredibly successful first date were quelled when a hyper-active miniature owl zoomed into view. Harry realized that the bird must have found its way into the kitchen by flying down one of the unused chimneys.
“Pig,” stated Ron as he tried to catch his pet. “Mum must’ve sent a note.”
Pigwidgeon zipped past Ron and made a spectacular dive right into the front of Luna’s robes. The blonde witch giggled and thrashed about as if she was being tickled by dozens of feathers – which in fact, she was. By the looks of it, Pigwidgeon was flitting about her overly large breasts, because Luna was involuntarily squeezing her boobs against each other by bringing her arms together, jiggling her mounds this way and that, while giggling uproariously. In other words, she was giving Ron and Harry quite a show; even Hermione seemed intrigued – though not as intrigued as the boys. After a very entertaining minute, Luna stilled and said with a glow in her cheeks; “I think he’s asleep.”
To prove her point, Luna pulled down the front her robes to reveal the small owl resting right in the valley of her cleavage. Pigwidgeon was hooting softly and rhythmically as if he was snoring peacefully. Harry doubted that the hyper owl had gotten tired, more than likely, Pig just really liked Luna’s boobs and had decided to use them as pillows to sleep on.
“Ronald, aren’t you going to get your post?” Luna asked.
“W-w-what post?” asked Ron as he stared dumbly at Luna’s breasts. Harry imagined that Ron had a bit a drool hanging from his mouth at the time. Harry had to imagine because he too was staring at Luna’s cleavage as well.
“The post on your owl,” clarified Luna.
“W-w-what owl?” asked a distracted Ron.
“They’re huge,” Harry heard Hermione mutter. Apparently, she was just as enthralled as he was.
“The owl between my titties,” Luna further pointed out.
“Oh,” mutter Ron, and reached for his sleeping owl. On the first attempt, Ron completely missed the owl and wedged his hand in Luna’s cleavage. He made no effort to remove his hand and left it there for a good ten seconds before he muttered, “Sorry ’bout that,” in an insincere tone. Luna giggled – and jiggled – as Ron removed his hand and tried to grab his owl. Again Ron missed his target and wedged his hand in-between her boobs – and again, Luna giggled. Harry wondered if Ron’s actions were accidental or intentional. The third time Ron “missed” Pig, Harry’s suspicion was confirmed.
“Um, Luna,” began Hermione. Harry saw out of the corner of his eye that Hermione was looking directly at Luna’s chest. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but where the hell did those come from?” she asked and pointed a finger at Luna’s orbs.
“Puberty,” Luna answered simply, while Ron uttered another/ “oops” /when he “missed” Pig again. In her traditional sing-song voice, Luna explained; “My mother was similarly endowed, and my father often told me how much it vexed her when people assumed that since she had large breasts, she couldn’t possibly be intelligent.” Luna continued to speak in a tone that conveyed the idea that it was an everyday occurrence to have Ron fondle her breasts in front of two people while a tiny owl slept in her cleavage. “Simply because my mother was blonde and had very large boobs, people thought that she was dim; which wasn’t the case at all. So to avoid the same problems that plagued my mother, I merely hid my size with various Glamour Charms once I started to develop.
“I wanted people to listen to what I say and not focus on my breast,” stated Luna… well at least Harry thought that is what she said. At that time, he was pretty much focused on her expansive cleavage. Yes, Harry did prefer Hermione’s boobs. But Harry was a man, and men tend to be entranced by any set of breasts; large or small. Boobs are boobs and men like them… a lot.
Luna cooed as she scooped the little owl out from its nesting area of her tits and plucked the post off of his leg. After she retrieved the scroll, she placed the sleeping bird back where she had picked him up. Pig appeared to snuggle into a more comfortable position in her cleavage.
“You can remove your hand now, Ronald,” Luna requested in her dreamy voice. “But mind that you don’t bother Pigwidgeon, he’s sleeping.”
Ron dejectedly slid his hand out from his new girlfriend’s cleavage and Luna unrolled the scroll and began to read aloud.
“Dearest Ron,
Your sister and I have had a few… conversations over the past few days and I have finally made her see the errors of her actions. Normally, her behavior would merit stern punishment, but her sixteenth birthday is near. And after all, a witch only has one sixteenth birthday.
Thankfully, I’ve been able to convince your sister to grow up and accept that Harry has moved on. More importantly, she has come to realize that her behavior and actions were unacceptable. To this end, Ginny has given me an Unbreakable Vow stating that she will not make any more advances on Harry or try to disrupt his current relationship. Would you please extend an invitation to Harry and Hermione to come to Ginny’s birthday party? All the family as well as a number of friends will be here.
Sadly, neither Remus nor Tonks will be able to attend. Tonks will be on patrol and unfortunately, Ginny’s birthday falls on a full moon this year.
I hope to see you and your friends on the eleventh.
Love
Mum
PS do buy your sister something nice, she’s had a rough few days.”
/ /”Luna, would you like to come?” Ron asked his girlfriend.
“Yes,” Luna smiled, “as often as possible, please.”
“How about you two?” Ron asked turning to Harry and Hermione (apparently Luna’s joke went over his head).
Harry was hesitant at the idea of attending Gin-Gin the Erection Killer’s birthday party. However, she had given her mother an Unbreakable Vow and if Ginny went against that Vow, she would die. Harry figured that he could get to spend some time with a family that he loved and Ginny would have to behave herself. If she didn’t, she’d die. So, either way, it looked like it was going to be a good day for him.
“We’d love to,” Hermione answered for the two of them. Harry wondered if Hermione had come to the same conclusion as he had.
“Fantastic,” Ron heralded. “Let me just send a note back to mum.”
Ron snatched Pig from his resting place between Luna’s boobs. The tiny owl hooted in protest as Ron scribbled a quick note and attached it to Pig’s leg. Before flying back up the chimney, Pigwidgeon looked forlornly at Luna’s immense breasts and hooted sadly.
“So, what do we do for the rest of the day?” Ron asked while blatantly looking down Luna’s top. It was obvious to everyone what Ron wanted to do for the rest of the day… perhaps in the nearest broom cupboard.
“We can discuss the Horcruxes,” Luna suggested and Ron’s shoulder’s slumped. “Maybe a fresh insight would help?”
“Actually, that’s a good idea,” admitted Hermione. She gave a naughty smile to Ron and added; “And it’s something you’ll enjoy, Ron.”
As the four friends made their way to the Gryffindor Common Room, Hermione told Luna and Ron about the han… the ritual that would locate hidden or missing items. Luna was genuinely intrigued by the ritual and how it worked, whereas Ron was honestly fascinated by the hand-job. When they got to Ron and Harry’s room, Hermione handed Luna the ‘special book.’
/ /Luna thumbed through “The Magic of Making Love” while Ron looked over her shoulder. The blonde witch paused at a familiar page in the book and asked; “Whose foot is that by her ear?”
“This is the greatest book…” Ron breathed. “Ever!”
“Remember, you’ll have to focus on the Horcruxes. We need to know where the missing one is,” explained Harry.
“We’ll leave the two of you to it,” Hermione said wickedly, and led Harry back to the Common Room.
As the couple re-entered the Common Room, a sudden thought occurred to Harry. Now that Ron was happily paired up with Luna, Harry and Hermione’s relationship could move on to the next step; they could have sex. It was going to happen; he was going to make love to Hermione.
Harry had thought that when this moment came up that he would be eager and willing. But now that it was going to happen, he felt rather nervous and light headed. His hands shook and sweat beads popped up all over his face. Normally, Harry’s moods never affected ‘Harry, Jr.’/. His penis was always up and willing even if Harry was in a bad or apprehensive mood. However, /’Harry, Jr.’ was apparently so nervous about the idea of getting to play inside of Hermione’s womanhood that the poor thing hiked up its overcoat over its head and hid.
It was odd; if someone were to have asked him the day before if he was ready to make love to Hermione, he would’ve shouted to the heavens an impassioned “YES!” But the idea of actually doing it frightened him somehow.
Hermione must have caught on to Harry’s discomfort – more than likely because she was still holding his hand and it was sweating like mad. She cupped his face in her hands and said, “Don’t worry. We’re not going to do the other ritual right now.”
“W-w-we’re not?” Harry asked nervously.
“I was waiting to see if Ron and Luna liked each other before I even started making the potion,” she explained. She then added in an undertone; “And boy, do they like each other.”
“How… how long until the potion is ready?” Harry asked with dread. He was afraid that Hermione was going to say something along the lines of “two minutes” and in that moment, Harry was not ready to lose his virginity.
“Seven days,” stated Hermione.
A wave of relief washed over Harry. He relaxed and smiled at his girlfriend. Of course ‘Harry, Jr.’ was still hiding.
“But that doesn’t mean we can’t fool around,” Hermione said coyly.
‘Harry, Jr.’ threw off his overcoat and bounced into action.
“What did you have in mind?” Harry asked saucily.
“Well, I’ve only tasted you once to see if my experiment worked,” the naughty witch said as she rubbed herself against Harry’s rapidly hardening organ.
“How about while you’re doing your experiment, I give you a little…” Harry began and paused as he focused on an image of a snake in his mind. He finished by saying in Parseltongue; “… pleas-s-sure.”
He took Hermione’s hand and was about to lead her up to one of the other rooms when she pulled him back and pushed him onto the couch. “Wait, what about Luna and Ron? What if they walk in on us?”
“This coming from the bloke who ate me out right next to Ron last night,” she said playfully. “You weren’t so worried about Ron waking up and seeing us.”
“But that was different,” Harry argued weakly. “Ron was out cold; there was no way he was gonna wake up. And now Luna’s up there and neither one is asleep.”
“Harry, first they have to read how to do the ritual. Then they have to brew the potion,” Hermione began. “And judging by what those two did last night, they won’t be down for an hour. Once they’re done with that the ritual, they’ll probably be shagging like bunnies.”
“Hopefully, Ron’s aim has improved,” muttered Harry.
“Before we get started, let me clarify something,” Hermione slipped into her lecture mode. “You will not be doing that to me. To quote you: /’That’s a one-way exit on me, mister’/.” She finished her statement by slapping her own bottom.
“That’s fine by me,” agreed Harry.
While tenderly kissing his girlfriend, Harry began to slowly removed Hermione’s clothes as she removed his. Harry paused after lowering Hermione’s slacks. As he knelt in front of her, he stared directly into the eyes of “Hello Kitty.”
/ /”I like these so much,” Hermione said lustfully as she traced her fingers gently over the cartoon cat. “I had to ask Dobby to return them.”
“You’re such a naughty girl,” commented Harry as he saw that her knickers were damp.
“How naughty?” purred Hermione.
The raven-haired wizard had an idea as to how to show her how naughty she was. He turned his girlfriend around and guided her so that she was bent over the arm of the large couch. Hermione arched her back so that her round bum was shoved up into the air in anticipation. Harry caressed her bottom through the pink cotton of her “Hello Kitty” knickers before giving her a playful swat.
“Oh come on, I’ve been naughtier than that,” Hermione taunted.
A slap echoed off of the walls of the Common Room as Harry’s open palm smacked Hermione’s bottom.
“Ooh, that’s more like it,” Hermione moaned before biting her lower lip and sticking her bum out more for Harry.
Again, Harry slapped his girlfriend’s rear and Hermione groaned in pleasure. He entertained himself by watching her bum jiggle as he alternated slaps between her left and right cheek. After nearly a dozen hard spanks, Harry decided that it was enough.
Slowly, Harry removed Hermione’s special knickers. He was amazed at how red her bare flesh was. The heat coming off of her bum was intense as he marveled in the sensation. He massaged her tender and assaulted bottom causing Hermione to groan.
“Lick me now, Harry,” she growled throatily. Harry leaned down and pressed his mouth to her neither lips. Her wetness poured down his chin and her pleasant musky odor filled his nose. Harry unleashed his tongue and his magic into Hermione’s flower.
“Smack my bottom, Harry,” Hermione pleaded. As he continued to eat her out, Harry’s hand flew and smacked her arse. The brunette witch cried out and ground her moist lips against Harry’s talented mouth. “Again,” she implored, “do it again.”
Her bum jiggled against his face when he spanked her. Hermione cried out “Sweet baby Maeve!” as she orgasmed and erupted into Harry’s mouth. He lapped up her juices happily as she gushed over and over.
Harry stood over her proudly as she rolled over and sat up. Her body was flush and her eyes were dark with lust.
“Get out of those effing boxers right now!” she growled.
Harry couldn’t have possibly taken his undergarment off any faster. After he tossed his boxers aside, Hermione remove her bra and freed ‘Natasha’ and /’Carmella’/.
“Lay on the couch,” ordered Hermione. Harry quickly flopped down on the couch with ‘Harry, Jr.’ pointing straight up at the ceiling. Hermione crawled over him so that her flower was right over his eager lips.
What happened next was a game; one where each person would try to out-pleasure the other. Hermione slurped, sucked, bobbed, and hummed Harry’s special theme on his member, while Harry ravished her with his tongue, using both his Love and Parsletongue magics.
In a few minutes, Harry felt the pressure build up in his loins.
“Hermione… I’m gonna…” Harry began.
“Shut the hell up and get back to work!” Hermione commanded – at least that’s what Harry thought she said. ‘Harry, Jr.’ was still in her mouth when she spoke, so it sounded more like “Suphz du helth oot und githe tou wurt!” But Harry got the general idea.
With a grunt as a warning, Harry came. He buried his face into Hermione’s flowing flower as she gulped up his load. She continued to swallow and suck his penis even after he was finished cumming. With a slurping noise from Hermione, a limp ‘Harry, Jr.’ flopped out of her mouth.
“Yeah, it’s working,” Hermione commented. Whether she was commenting on her experiment to adjust the taste of Harry’s seed or if she was referencing his cunnilingus technique, Harry didn’t know.
Harry continued to work his magic on Hermione’s flower and in a short amount of time; he felt her begin to tense up. She sat up on his face – which gave Harry a wonderfully close-up view of her still red bum – and ground her hips into him. In the heat of the moment, she dug her nails into his chest which caused Harry to growl in a combination of pleasure and pain. Of course, he growled right into her pussy which sent her over the edge.
Hermione’s muscles locked up and she bucked on top of him. Harry clamped down on her legs and hung on as he continued to eat her out. He swallowed her juices as she howled. After she climaxed, Hermione slumped on top of her boyfriend.
However, Harry had no intention of stopping there. He licked, suckled and nibbled at Hermione’s petals and bud. Hermione panted heavily as she rose up to sit on Harry’s face again. She thrashed around and groaned; Harry could tell that she wouldn’t last much longer this time around.
“I’ve found them all,” a voice that definitely didn’t belong to Hermione announced.
Hermione tensed up again but Harry knew that it wasn’t the “Oh, God I cumming!” sort of tense. But rather it was the “Oh, God, somebody is standing right next to us!” tense.
“I said ‘I’ve found them’,” the voice repeated. Harry wasn’t able to see – because his girlfriend was frozen in fear as she sat on his face (which was quite nice) – but he could tell from the sing-song tone that it was Luna, and that she was standing very close to them.
“I’ve found them,” Luna repeated yet again. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
Harry could tell from her tone that Luna was waiting for some kind of response. Seeing that Hermione hadn’t moved or uttered a sound since Luna first spoke up; Harry answered.
“That’s great, Luna,” he stated flatly.
What Harry didn’t know was that he was still speaking in Parseltongue. And seeing that Hermione’s flower was still pressed up against his mouth, Harry used his magical language and spoke directly into Hermione’s womanhood.
“OH MERLIN!” screamed Hermione as she climaxed and flooded Harry’s mouth. “I’M CUMMING!”
Bucking wildly, Hermione uncontrollably fell off of Harry and crashed to the floor next to the couch. Hermione continued to spasm and moan, riding out her orgasm.
Finally able to see, Harry stared gob smacked at a very topless Luna standing no less than three feet from him. Even though he wasn’t wearing his glasses, Harry could see clearly enough to tell that the only thing Luna was wearing was a set of light purple panties… and a smile. Harry noted that her left eye appeared to be red and puffy. It would seem that Ron’s aim was just as bad as his.
“I’ve found every single one of them!” heralded Luna, as if it was perfectly normal to be standing nearly nude in front of a messy faced and naked Harry as an equally naked and thrashing Hermione as she continued to convulse through her orgasm on the ground. “I know where all of them are located!”
“That’s great,” Harry said. If this would have happened a few weeks ago, he would’ve been scrabbling to find something to cover his nakedness. But seeing that almost everyone he knew had seen him naked, he just lay there. He wondered idly if he was slowly turning into a nudist or exhibitionist. “So where’s the missing one?” he asked as a very gratified ‘Harry, Jr.’ slept in the open air.
“Oh, there’s so many more than just one,” Luna announced happily. “There’s a few dozen in Sweden.”
“D-d-d-dozens?” Hermione uttered as her orgasm finally subsided and she was able to sit up.
“Yes, in Sweden,” Luna said with a little bounce – a bounce which caused her huge tits to jiggle. “And scores more of them are in Spain; at least a hundred!”
“M-m-m-more?” Harry groaned. Voldemort had created over a hundred Horcruxes. Harry’s heart sank at the realization that the hunt for Voldemort’s Horcruxes was going to be a lot harder than he thought.
To Be Continued

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Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor
Chapter Seven
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 Seven Summary: Brainy birds are naughty!
Harry cursed at himself for his own stupidity as he dashed behind the couch where Hermione had landed. Hermione had simply wanted to see how his love based magic affected his power and Harry had complied. He concentrated on his love based magic and yet, somehow he bollixed it all up. He meant to cast a simple Cheering Charm on Hermione but instead he must have hit her with a Banishing Charm. Harry blew her off of her feet and she ended up falling behind the couch. As Harry rounded the corner of the couch in question, he expected to see the woman he loved crumpled in a heap on the floor. Bafflingly, he found nothing but the floor of the Common Room. ‘Where could she have gone?’ he thought.
Before Harry could continue his search, he heard a soft “whoosh” sound and felt a draft on ‘/Harry, Jr./’ Looking down, Harry saw that his pajama top was still on, but his pajama bottoms had mysteriously dropped down around his ankles, leaving his lower half naked and exposed.
Harry quickly bent over to re-cover himself, and to recover whatever was left of his dignity, when he felt, rather than heard, Hermione run toward him from behind. Apparently, Harry’s naked bum was too good of a target for Hermione to pass up. The wizard yelped as Hermione roughly, painfully, and quite unexpectedly smacked his left arse cheek. Before Harry could regain his wits enough to stop Hermione, she had disappeared again. He was busy rubbing his red bum when Hermione dashed out of nowhere and laid an equally painful thwack to his unprotected right cheek. Harry jumped up in pain at Hermione’s strike. Unfortunately, this jump, added with the fact that his pajama bottoms were still around his ankles, caused Harry to fall to the ground in a very unflattering position: his face was on the ground while his naked posterior was sticking up in the air. This became another opportunity that was too good for Hermione to pass up.
Harry cried out in pain as Hermione delivered powerful smacks to each of his cheeks at the same time. He finally had the common sense to roll over so that he was sitting on his now welt-covered backside. He looked up and saw Hermione swinging from the chandelier like some sort of crazed trapeze performer. How she got up there was a mystery to Harry, but the bigger mystery was how he was going to get her down. Hopefully, he could perform a levitation charm on her.
Standing holding his wand in one hand while hoisting up his bottoms, Harry was very surprised to see that Hermione had disappeared once again. He was staring at the swinging chandelier when he felt a new draft on his bits. Harry looked down to see that his pants were around his ankles again. Having learned his lesson previously, Harry decided not to temp Hermione to spank his bottom by bending over and giving her a target. He figured it be safer to use his magic to lift up his trousers. Harry had only barely pointed his wand at the fabric when he heard Hermione rushing toward him.
“Oh, shite,” Harry was able to groan out before Hermione physically tackled him by throwing her body at his back. Harry ended up on the floor in the same embarrassing position he had just gotten out of: his naked (but now red) arse sticking up in the air. This time however, Hermione was sitting on the back of his head. She was evidently pretending his backside was a set of bongos because she began to slap, smack, and spank his arse very rapidly and with increasing force.
“OW! OW! OW!” Harry cried in unison with the slaps as Hermione began to sing.
“Baba-loo!”
“OW! OW! OW!”
After several dozen paddles Hermione finally stood and commented on her work. “Wow, look at how red that is! I think it’s actually throwing off light! That is sooo cool!”
As soon as Hermione had gotten off of him, Harry once again rolled over so that he was sitting on his red and throbbing bum. Wincing slightly from the pain in his rear, Harry looked up and saw a very flushed Hermione standing him front of him. Although her eye was still red and irritated from the accidental “/ejaculate in the eye/” situation, she had a face splitting grin.
“That was fun!” Hermione declared. Harry noticed that she had very, very erect nipples; they looked as if they were going to poke holes through her blouse. “Okay, my turn!” Hermione then promptly shoved her bottom in Harry’s face and ordered “Go on, give it a good whack!”
“Hermione, I don’t -” Harry began to whine.
“Smack my arse, Potter!” Hermione commanded.
“Fine,” Harry complied and placed a gentle slap to her bottom.
“What the hell was that? Did a fly land on my bum?” Hermione mockingly asked. She lowered her slacks to reveal her milky white flesh and thin white cotton knickers to Harry. The white cotton knickers, which Harry noted, were fairly damp around Hermione’s flower. At first, Harry thought that it was just sweat, after all the witch had been running around the room. But he could have sworn he smelt the musky odor of her arousal. “When I say ‘/smack my arse/’ I mean it. Now spank me!”
“Hermione I don’t want to hurt you,” objected Harry.
“SPANK MY BOTTOM NOW!” Hermione demanded.
Spurned on by her command – and a little fearful of her wrath if he didn’t comply – Harry smacked her tender flesh with a resounding slap, his fear combined with his own sore bottom making him use a great deal more force than he intended.
“Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes,” Hermione chanted through gritted teeth (but still grinning like a madwoman) as she hopped around Harry. “That felt sooo good!” She paused in front of Harry to lower her knickers so that her bottom was completely exposed, a sight that Harry marveled in. Right before his eyes, a hand shaped red welt rapidly developed on her naked bum. “That’s a good one, isn’t it? Now kiss it and make it better.”
Rather than argue, Harry leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her red flesh. Her skin felt incredibly hot under his lips.
“Now rub it,” Hermione ordered.
But before Harry could happily fulfill Hermione’s wish, a soft “/ahem/” from the entrance to the Common Room drew their attention. Minerva McGonagall stood patiently by the entrance while pretending that nothing unusual was happening and she was busying herself by examining something in the corner away from Harry and Hermione.
As quickly as he could, Harry stood and pulled up his pants, covering ‘/Harry, Jr/.’. Harry turned, assuming that Hermione had done the same seeing how her bum was hanging out of her slacks. But Hermione hadn’t. In fact she wasn’t anywhere near Harry. Instead she was doing pirouettes in a circle around McGonagall like a ballerina on a sugar high. A ballerina on a sugar high who happened to have her very pretty, and very bare, arse hanging out of her slacks, mind you.
“Hermione, what are you doing?” McGonagall asked sternly as Hermione, while giggling non-stop, continued to pirouette around the Headmistress. The Headmistress scrutinized Hermione’s puffy red eye as the younger witch spun around her. “Is something wrong with your eye? Were you hit with a Conjunctivitis Curse?”
Hermione paused momentarily from her incessant spinning to answer McGonagall’s question. “Kind of, it was Harry’s own special /Cum-/junctivits Curse.” She then frantically pantomimed the cause, pointing between her eye and Harry’s crotch as if McGonagall needed a visual reference to her crude joke. Thankfully, Harry thought, judging by McGonagall’s skeptical expression, the prim Headmistress didn’t get it. At McGonagall’s questioning look, Hermione felt the need to explain her joke further. “He came in my-” Harry dashed forward and clamped his hand down on her mouth, hoping to muffle the word “eye.”
“What the hell are you two doing?” McGonagall demanded, as a grinning Hermione wrenched herself away from Harry.
“Um… we… we’re… uh experimenting…” answered Harry, ending up speaking very loudly. He had to answer loudly because the still bare-arsed Hermione was now standing on the window seat singing “/I’m a Little Teapot/” at the top of her lungs.
“I’M A LITTLE TEAPOT, SHORT AND STOUT.”
“I would suggest that you should stop your ‘/experiment’/ sometime soon,” stated McGonagall over Hermione’s caterwauling.
“HERE IS MY HANDLE, HERE IS MY SPOUT!”
“What was that, ma’am?” asked Harry pretending as if Hermione singing a children’s song at the top of her lungs was an everyday occurrence.
“WHEN I GET ALL STEAMED UP, HEAR ME SHOUT:”
“I would suggest that you should stop your ‘/experiment’/ sometime soon,” McGonagall repeated, trying her best to tune out Hermione’s less than dulcet song.
It was at this point that Hermione had decided to veer away from the traditional lyrics of “/I’m a Little Teapot/” by improvising some of her own.
“JUST PUSH ME ON THE BED AND EAT ME OUT!” Hermione also added something akin to a dance move as well; when she “/sung/” the words “… and eat me out!” she thrust her hips lewdly at Harry.
Both Harry and McGonagall stared at Hermione with stunned expressions. Ignoring the stares, Hermione hopped off of the seat and began to do wind sprints around the Room. McGonagall and Harry turned to each other and shared a look that clearly stated that neither one would ever mention Hermione’s song. Ever.
“Ron Weasley has requested to stop by in an hour or so,” McGonagall continued, speaking as if one of her favorite students was not behaving in anything less than a most responsible manner. Only her pale face, due to Hermione’s song, gave away any sort of clue as to her current mindset.
“Ron’s stopping by?” Harry asked disbelievingly.
“Yes, he said you wanted to talk to the two of you,” concluded McGonagall.
Knowing Ron, his idea of a “talk” would include him yelling and perhaps even screaming. The “talk” would also include him accusing Harry of being a glory hound and/or stealing his girl, then making Hermione cry, and then storming off.
Hermione stomped up to McGonagall, threw up her arms and cried out in an overly joyous manner, “I’m so depressed!”
Harry finally decided that it was time to lift the super-powered Cheering Charm off of Hermione. He pointed his wand at her and quickly cast a simple: “/Finite/!”
Much to both Harry and McGonagall’s surprise, Hermione’s ‘jolly’ mood did not dissipate. Instead she attempted to do a cartwheel away from the Headmistress. Her attempt failed and the brunette witch crashed to the ground. The rational part of Harry’s mind felt embarrassed for his girlfriend at her crash. However, the naughty part of Harry’s mind (the part of the brain that has control over most thought processes in most males) liked the way Hermione naked bum jiggled when it hit the floor.
Regaining his composure after being enticed by Hermione’s naked bottom, Harry looked at his wand disbelievingly as Hermione stood up, laughing. Again, he pointed his wand and said, “/Finite/!”
Apparently, the second cancellation spell worked as well as the first, seeing that Hermione still continued to laugh.
“Why isn’t it working?” McGonagall asked.
Before Harry could speculate as to the reasons, Hermione dashed at him and shouted, “Maybe because he’s using the wrong wand!” She then promptly yanked Harry’s trousers down and before he could cover himself up, she grabbed ‘/Harry, Jr.’/ and suggested, “Here, use this wand and see if it works!’
“Good grief!” McGonagall exclaimed as she tried to shield her eyes.
“Hermione,” Harry whined as he tried to push her hands away from his bits so that he could cover them.
“Fine, have it your way spoil sport,” Hermione said as she gave up and let ‘/Harry, Jr./’ go. This of course freed up her hands to do other things, like spank Harry’s naked bottom.
Harry cried out in pain as his bum was spanked once more. He recoiled away from Hermione’s hand but this led to him thrusting his bits in McGonagall’s direction. Thankfully, Harry thought, the Headmistress still had her hand over her eyes.
Hiking up his clothing once more, Harry told McGonagall it was okay to look again. But just as the elder witch lowered her hand away from her eyes, Hermione decided to lower Harry’s bottoms again.
“Oh, for pity’s sake!” McGonagall shouted.
It was at this point that Hermione decided to give the Headmistress a special puppet show, with ‘/Harry, Jr./’ being the puppet. She knelt in front of Harry and grabbed his organ once again.
“‘Hello, Professor McGonagall,'” Hermione said in a gruff voice as she held ‘/Harry, Jr./’ and made him bow in a greeting to the older witch. She was squeezing the crown of the appendage so that his urethra was opening and closing as she pretended that the slit was a mouth and it was talking. “‘I’m Harry’s Penis. How are you today?'”
Harry tried to push Hermione off of him, but Hermione held fast to his member. Because of the slight tugging going on, ‘/Harry, Jr./’ started to wake up to see what the commotion was all about.
“‘Gee, Hermione, can I come out to play?'” she ‘asked’ in her gruff voice as she continued to squeeze and tug at ‘/Harry, Jr/.’ “‘I’ve been lonely for a while. Lonely and bored. Can you help?”
“I don’t know Mr. Harry’s Penis,” she replied in her normal voice. “Your friend Harry is being a bit of a spoil sport right now…”
One can hardly blame Harry for what happened; because of all the spanking -yes it hurt, but in a good kind of way – the fact that Hermione bum was completely exposed and naked, and the fact that his girlfriend was literally and figuratively playing with his bits; Harry was starting to get aroused. This of course was mortifying because McGonagall was in the same room as he and Hermione. Harry reckoned that if the Headmistress wasn’t there, he’d let Hermione use ‘/Harry, Jr./’ as a puppet all day long. But the unfortunate fact that McGonagall was there was disturbing.
“Oh, it looks like Harry has decided to let you play after all, Mr. Harry’s Penis!” Hermione exclaimed as the organ began to swell and grow in her hand. “Would you like to play ‘/tonsil boxing/’ with me, or perhaps ‘/all hands on dick/’?”
“Ms. Granger,” McGonagall howled with her hand over her eyes. “I insist you stop this foolishness right now!”
Harry groaned as Hermione stimulated him with her hands – that and the fact that she had just used the word “/dick/,” apparently he discovered that something about Hermione talking dirty made him randy. A bit of clear pre-cum seeped out of ‘/Harry, Jr./’
“Oh, no. You poor thing. You’re crying! Why are you so sad Mr. Harry’s Penis?” asked Hermione in an overly sweetly concerned voice. “Did Professor McGonagall make you upset? Maybe you need a kiss.”
Hermione leaned in and was about to give ‘/Harry, Jr./’ a kiss when Professor McGonagall announced, “This has to stop!”
She whipped out her wand and leveled it at the kneeling witch.
“/Finite/!” the Headmistress shouted.
Hermione paused, mere centimeters away from Harry’s crown. She looked up at Harry and declared with a wink, “We’ll finish the puppet show later!’ She then jumped up and ran around the room while holding her arms out to the side and making airplane noises.
Harry and McGonagall stared at the young witch as she appeared to pretend to be a plane while running around the room. After a bit, they both shared a concerned look. Then McGonagall happened to look down.
“For heaven’s sake, Potter!” she shouted as she covered her eyes yet again. “Cover yourself up!”
Harry looked down and saw that his aroused state was still very much exposed. He quickly hiked up his pajama bottoms, completely embarrassed.
“Sorry about that Professor,” said Harry, indicating that he was now decent.
McGonagall lowered her hand and gave Harry a stern look. She proceeded to say in an austere tone “Cover yourself a little more, Potter!”
Once again, he looked down at himself in shock. He was still fairly erect and was pointing in McGonagall’s direction. It was if ‘/Harry, Jr/.’ was pointing at the Headmistress in an accusatory way and was saying “YOU! It’s your fault! I can’t play with my Hermione because you made her stop! YOU BITCH!”
As quickly as he could, Harry snatched a pillow from the nearby couch and held the fluffy accessory like a shield in front of his crotch.
“Well, at least I know you’re a true Gryffindor,” McGonagall muttered. “You ‘/dress right/’.”
Hermione had finally stopped pretending to be a plan and was now tumbling head over heels across the floor chanting “Hoop-ah!”
“What in the hell did you do to her?” demanded McGonagall as Hermione’s tumbling knocked over a small table, breaking it. Hermione muttered an “oops” and quickly performed a Repair Charm on the broken table.
“I… I just used a Cheering Charm on her,” admitted Harry.
Hermione giggled as she transfigured the table into a dozen tiny, miniscule red elephants.
“How many Cheering Charms did you use on her?” McGonagall asked incredulously.
Unable to answer McGonagall, Harry pointed his wand at Hermione, who was frantically chasing the tiny red elephants around the room.
“/Finite/!” Harry commanded.
Hermione slowed her frantic chase to a trot, but was still giggling like a school-girl.
“/Finite/!” he shouted again.
It was at this point that Hermione seemed to lose interest with the pack of puny pachyderms and started to hop like a bunny toward McGonagall, a bunny with her beautiful bare bum hanging out of her pants.
“/Finite/!”
The hop changed into a skip.
“/Finite/!”
The skip was replaced by a saunter, a saunter with a bounce to it, mind you.
“/Finite/!”
Her bouncy saunter disappeared as Hermione finally reached McGonagall. Harry could tell by the glow in Hermione’s cheeks (both sets, he thought wickedly) and the goofy grin on her face that she was still under the effects of his super-charged Cheering Charm, but he reckoned that it would be close enough.
“I’m sorry Professor,” Hermione said with a chuckle as she hiked up her slacks, covering her bum. This made Harry a tad disappointed. He rather liked seeing her bottom.
“It’s quite alright, Hermione,” replied McGonagall. “I was young and in love once, too.”
It was at this point that McGonagall focused on Harry and the message on his pajamas. She then gave Harry the same saucy smile she had given him the other day. It was like someone had dumped a very large bucket of ice water on his head.
“And speaking of love,” McGonagall said to Hermione, oblivious to Harry’s discomfort, “I thought it would be best if you had a look at today’s /Prophet/.”
The Headmistress pulled a rolled up copy of the newspaper out of her robes and handed it to Hermione.
“Is there anything wrong, Professor?” Harry asked as Hermione took the Prophet from the Headmistress. Harry noted that when she took the paper from McGonagall, Hermione was guffawing softly and he swore he heard her mutter a word that Hermione would never say. But he could have sworn he heard her mutter the word “/gimmie/.”
“Oh, not at all. The Prophet is merely reporting Harry’s declaration he made during the reception yesterday,” McGonagall answered. “I’ll leave you two alone,” with that, McGonagall left the Common Room.
Harry gasped in fear. He had totally forgotten to warn Hermione about his outburst. And now, she was going to hear about it from the /Daily Prophet/!
“What declaration?” Hermione asked as she started to read the front page.
“I’m sorry Hermione,” Harry rapidly spoke. “I kind of told Ron — and everyone else — that I’m in love with -”
“Draco,” Hermione interrupted.
“Yes – What? – NO!” Harry sputtered, stunned.
Hermione started to read the article that adorned the front page of the Daily Prophet/. Of course, since she was still under the effect of the super-charged Cheering Charm, she read it in a silly voice. “‘/The //Chosen/ One announces his forbidden love!’/
“‘/During the Delacour/Weasley wedding yesterday, Harry Potter (The Boy Who Lived, The /Chosen/ One, and Dumbledore’s Man, Through and Through) announced his undying love for novice Death Eater and all-around bad-boy, Draco Malfoy.'”/
“WHAT?” Harry screamed. He could swear that he could hear McGonagall laughing in the hall.
“‘/Stunned guests witnessed as Potter proudly stated that he was in love with the wizard who helped Death Eaters invade Hogwarts.'”/ Hermione continued to read in her giddy voice. “‘/Potter shouted “I don’t care who knows anymore, I’m in love with Draco!”‘/
“Bu… bu… bu… but I’m not gay!” Harry defended himself. “Even if I were, I could never be attracted to Draco. I don’t know where anyone would get that notion. I hate the little ferret.”
“Well, it looks like they’ve got an explanation for that,” Hermione said while trying to fight a fit of laughter. “/’Fred and George Weasley (brothers of the groom) who attended Hogwarts with Potter gave us some insight to Potter and Malfoy’s relationship: “Every time we played a Quidditch match against Slytherin, Draco and Harry would always go for each other’s throats…” Fred told us’/
“/’Yeah, everyone could tell their aggressiveness towards each other was just unresolved sexual tension,” George concluded.'”/
“I-am-going-to-kill-them!” Harry hissed.
“‘Another classmate of Potter, Dean Thomas, informed, “I swear I saw the two of them snogging in the halls last year.””
/ /”Right after I kill him,” Harry hissed again.
“Alas, does this mean we’re over Harry,” Hermione asked with overly-dramatic and obviously fake sadness and dropped the Prophet on the table. “I don’t think I could share you with another man!”
“Oh, shut it!” Harry moaned dejectedly and flopped on the couch. “How’d this happen?”
“Well, you know how this newspaper never gets anything right,” Hermione attempted to console him. Her attempt to comfort him was difficult however seeing that she was still chuckling.
“I know that,” Harry stated and Hermione sat down next to him. “But why would my friends say that about me?”
“That’s simple. As to Fred and George, they did it as a joke,” Hermione explained and then added under her breath “a bloody good one at that.” She then said “And Dean, well he probably did it because you did steal his girlfriend last year.”
“Oh, yeah. I guess I deserved that last bit,” Harry said.
“The girlfriend who happened to look like your mum,” Hermione added. Harry groaned pitifully and Hermione muttered “sicko.”
Hermione pecked Harry’s cheek and announced, “We have an hour or so before Ron gets here and I have something we can do in the mean time. A deviously clever idea struck me while I was under your Cheering Charm.”
“An idea about what?” asked Harry.
“Revenge,” heralded Hermione. She then stood and declared in a very dramatic way: “Revenge against Remus and Tonks!”
Hermione spent the next twenty minutes gathering potion supplies and explaining her plan to Harry.
“I was inspired by Remus’ prank where he used a theory for one spell but used it on a different spell, causing a completely unheard of effect for the latter,” Hermione spoke very rapidly as she threw several ingredients in the simmering cauldron. “I asked myself ‘why don’t we do the same thing? Combine two different things and hit those two with it?’ So, I decided to mix two different potions, a mild Lust Potion and an Infelix Infaustus potion. The Infelix Infaustus potion does the exact opposite of the Felix Felicis, instead of giving the drinker good luck, they’re plagued with bad luck. My theory is that when we combine the Lust and Bad Luck potions, the victims -Remus and Tonks – will have bouts of lowered inhibitions at inappropriate times and places.”
“You lost me at ‘/I was inspired/…'” Harry admitted as he watched his girlfriend stir the contents of the cauldron.
“Remus and Tonks will be molesting each other, much like I did to you when I was under the influence of Ginny’s Lust Potion,” Hermione explained in simpler terms. “But they will be doing it at the most inappropriate times and places. Imagine the next Order of the Phoenix meeting; Molly will be going over the minutes from the last meeting and Tonks will mount Remus right then and there!”
“They’ll be mortified!” exclaimed Harry.
“They’ll never live it down!” proclaimed Hermione.
“They’ll never be able to show their faces in public again!” added Harry.
“Excellent!” both teens gloriously cried out.
Hermione cackled and put in the final ingredient. She carefully poured the contents of the cauldron into a glass vial. “Now all we have to do is sprinkle this over something they’ll eat or into their drinks.”
“How about we sprinkle it over their tea supply?” offered Harry.
“Wonderful! That way they’ll have to deal with the effects whenever they have tea! They will be pranked continually, and not know how!”
The sound of the portrait of the Fad Lady opening drew their attention to the entrance to the Common Room. A silent and sullen Ron Weasley walked in.
“Um, hi Ron,” Harry nervously greeted his hopefully still best mate.
“Hiya Harry… Hermione,” he responded in a quiet and apprehensive way. Hermione weakly waved at her former “we’re together” friend. And those four words, well four words and an “/Um/” sound, were the only things said for a very long minute. During that minute, the trio busied themselves in various ways; Hermione seemed to be fascinated by a strand of her own hair and inspected it closely. Ron appeared to be counting the dust specks on the chandelier above their heads (which was still swinging slightly due to Hermione impromptu impersonation of Tarzan) while Harry was literarily twiddling his thumbs trying his best not to look at anyone or anything in particular.
“Ooh, this is maddening!” announced Hermione, finally breaking the awkward silence. “I never meant to hurt you Ron, it just that…”
“I know, I know,” Ron said. “I did a lot of thinking about what Harry said, and it made sense. In the long run, I don’t think it would’ve worked out. It still hurts a little, but I think that it would’ve hurt a lot more if we had been together longer and then realize that we wouldn’t work out. You know what I mean?”
“Yes, I do,” replied Hermione, taken back at Ron’s surprising amount of insight.
“And I reckon that it will hurt a little seeing the two of you together for a bit, but if it makes you two happy then I’m happy.” Ron concluded.
“Thanks mate, that means a lot,” Harry said, his heart feeling a little lighter.
“Besides I should’ve seen this coming, the two of you hooking up. I mean, look at all the stuff you two have done together,” Ron stated. “You both went into the Forbidden Forest in our first year while I was stuck in the Hospital Ward. Then there was the Time Turner Adventure you had in our third year where you saved Sirius and rode Buckbeak. And in our fifth, you two went into the Forest twice together and then when we split up in the Department of Mysteries, you two were still a team.”
A genuine smile appeared on both Ron and Harry’s faces as they shook hands, renewing their friendship. Hermione then hugged their tall friend. As she pulled away from him, Ron looked at her red eye and asked “Were you hit with a Conjunctivitis Curse?”
Hermione snorted in a very un-lady-like fashion and Harry’s heart sunk as he realized the awkward situation of the talk with Ron had forced Hermione to suppress the urges she was feeling from the super-charged Cheering Charm. Apparently, since the awkwardness of the talk had passed, the effects of the super-charged Cheering Charm kicked in once again.
“My eye is red because Harry came in it,” informed Hermione with a chuckle.
Harry gaped with his mouth open in shock at Ron. Hermione had just blurted out how far their relationship had progressed and Harry was fearful of Ron’s reaction. You see, Ron was prone to bouts of jealously and anger. And Harry worried that Ron would react badly because Ron was basically just told that Hermione had given Harry a hand-job. But thankfully, Ron was also prone to bouts of denseness.
“What do you mean?” Ron asked, dumbfounded. “How can someone come into your eye?”
Before Harry could defuse the situation, Hermione answered Ron’s question, “Not ‘into’, in. And it’s quite simple: Bad aim, that’s how.”
Ron stared at his two best friends in bewilderment for a moment. Then slowly, understanding dawned in his eyes.
“SHE NEVER DID THAT WITH ME!”
“Pfft,” Hermione countered – if one could call a “pfft” noise a counterpoint. “I never did /any/thing with you.”
Hermione then proceeded to attempt to once more lower Harry’s pants. Luckily, Harry seized hold of his trousers before Hermione could tug them down.
“What the hell is wrong with her?” Ron asked Harry.
“I hit her with a super-charged Cheering Charm,” Harry tried to inform his friend while wrestling for control of his pants with Hermione.
“You hit her with a super-charged Cheering Charm by cumming in her eye?” demanded Ron.
“No, no, no,” Harry stammered. He was beginning to lose the battle over his pants and he was quite worried that Ron was about to formally meet ‘Harry, Jr.’ “No, we performed a ritual to find the Horcruxes…”
Harry paused as he started to feel the fabric of his pants slip away.
“And you performed this ritual by cumming in her eye?” Ron asked, still trying to follow the chain of events.
“No,” Hermione answered and thankfully gave up in her quest to expose ‘Harry, Jr.’ and walked over to stand in front of Ron. “I found a ritual in a dirty little book Harry was trying to hide from me.” Of course, Hermione was speaking very rapidly. “The ritual required me to wank his willy,” Hermione paused momentarily to make a rude hand gesture to Ron, as if she needed to give the red-haired wizard a visual reference to what she was talking about. “Well, then we had an out of body experience where we found the location of all of Voldemort’s Horcruxes, but the ritual ended when Harry came. Unfortunately, he cummed in my eye, duh!” She accentuated this point by leaning very close to Ron so that he could inspect the eye in question.
“And as to the reason I’m acting so strangely,” Hermione continued after she believed that Ron had inspected her red-eye enough. “Harry informed me that there was more to the prophesy concerning he and Voldemort than just ‘me against him’ and it dealt with a power Harry has that Voldemort doesn’t even know about. And apparently that power is love and so I decided to see how much his love affected simple charms and spells. So we did a little experiment with a Cheering Charm and ‘lo and behold you have a very hyper-active Hermione. Harry has tried to cancel out the charm, but what he doesn’t realized is that he had so much power in the charm that he’ll have to tap into his love-core again to cancel it completely. That or hit me with a dozen or so more ‘Finites'”
“Oh, okay. So when are we going to Godric’s Hollow and start looking for the Horcruxes?” Ron asked, abruptly changing subjects, obviously pretending that not only had he understood what Hermione had said, but that she was acting completely normal.
“How about now?” asked Harry, equally trying to pretend that Hermione’s actions were normal.
“Why not?” Ron agreed.
“Fine, but let’s stop by Remus and Tonks’ place first,” Hermione said with a knowing look in her eye – well her one good eye that is. “Just to let them know we’re going on a trip.”
“Alright, before we leave let’s go to the kitchen and get some food,” Harry said. “I’m famished.”
“Wait. First, I have some ‘f/orgive me I was such a berk/’ presents to give you two,” Ron said as he started to reach in his robes.
“Ron that’s not necessary,” Hermione said gently.
“It’s something I feel I need to do, is all,” stated Ron and he pulled out a single yellow rose and handed it to Hermione. “I hope we can still be friends.”
“Of course we are,” Hermione said with tears of happiness in her eyes and she hugged Ron again. After they broke apart, Ron pulled a box out of his robes and handed it to Harry.
“Here you go Harry,” Ron said as Harry took the box. “I had it made for you this morning. I hope it fits.”
Harry opened the box to find a bright pink pullover with the words “Draco’s Little Princess” embroidered on it.
“I think Draco would like that,” Hermione said with a chuckle as she examined the shirt over Harry’s shoulder. Harry groaned and looked at Ron who appeared to on the verge of laughter.
“Ha, ha, let it out you two,” Harry said mirthlessly.
“Do you think that Harry would be the Keeper or the Chaser?” Ron asked. “I think he’d be the Keeper in the relationship.”
“Oh, yes, I can totally see that,” Hermione answered. “Draco is very aggressive, so that would make him the dominant of the pair.”
This playful ribbing continued as the trio went to the kitchens and grabbed some food. Dobby made it a point to say goodbye to Harry and if they needed anything that they shouldn’t hesitate to call on the little House-Elf. As Harry left the kitchen, he absently noted that Kreacher was no where to be seen.
After they left the castle grounds, Hermione turned to Harry and demanded “Lift this Charm off of me this instant! I refuse to go any further until I am normal. It’s taking too much effort to restrain myself right now. And I’m afraid that I’ll lose my concentration in the middle of a large crowd of people.”
“Okay, /Finite/.” Harry said after he pointed his wand at her.
“No Harry!” Hermione exclaimed gleefully. “I told you earlier you will have to hit me with a dozen more Finites or one loved powered Finite!”
“You did?” he asked.
“Yes, remember when I was explaining our situation to Ron?”
“Um, no, not really,” Harry responded honestly. In Harry’s defense, she had been speaking rather rapidly earlier.
“Well, tap into your love-core so I can be normal again,” demanded Hermione.
Harry paused and focused on how he felt for his girlfriend and muttered “/Finite.”/
With a sigh, Hermione acknowledged that she had finally returned to normal.
The trio signaled for the Knight Bus. With a loud BANG, the triple decked bus appeared in front of them. Harry, Hermione, and Ron got on and took the Knight Bus to Remus’ cottage.
“Wothcher, kids,” Tonks greeted them as she answered the door. “Come inside.”
Tonks led the group to the small front room where Remus was reading The Quibbler.
“Hello, you three,” Remus greeted. “What brings you here?”
“Oh, just wanted to stop by before we head off to Godric’s Hollow,” informed Harry.
Remus and Tonks shared a concerned look.
“Pardon me, but may I use the bathroom?” Hermione interjected.
“Of course you can, Hermione.” Tonks answered.
Hermione winked at Harry before disappearing around the corner. Harry had some difficulty controlling his joy at the thought of Remus and Tonks embarrassing themselves due to Hermione’s ingenious plan of revenge.
“Now Harry, I want to warn you about what you’ll find at Godric’s Hollow,” said Remus, the concern in his voice was obvious to anyone who was paying attention. However, Harry wasn’t paying attention. His mind was filled with images of the humiliated pair of Tonks and Remus.
“Joseph Middwood was the man Lily and James hired to be the house’s caretaker,” Remus continued and Harry nodded his head as if he understood what the older wizard had said. “And he has done… some questionable things since your parents died…”
Harry almost laughed out loud as a mental image of Remus and Tonks sitting at the dinner table at the Burrow entered his mind. He imagined Molly setting the main course in front of Remus. The werewolf then looked up at Molly and thanked her before shoving his hand down Tonks’ blouse to squeeze her tit. In Harry’s mind, Molly then gasped as Tonks whipped out Remus’ willy and started to wank him off.
“… and apparently, he thought he deserved more money…” Remus continued to speak. And Harry continued to ignore him.
Harry gleefully imagined another mortifying predicament caused by Hermione’s Bad Lust potion. In his mind’s eye, Harry saw Remus stop by the Ministry of Magic to drop off some lunch for Tonks. He imagined them talking for a bit about inconsequential things, but the moment that Tonks’ supervisor happened to stop by, all hell would break loose. Harry fought the urge to chuckle at the imagined shocked expression on Tonks’ boss’s face when Remus put his willy in-between the pink haired witch’s boobs and began to whack himself off with her mounds.
Another image suddenly popped in Harry’s mind driving the current scenario from his imagination. Instead of Remus giving Tonks a good old fashion titty-fuck, Harry saw himself in the same position, but with Hermione and her wondrous breasts being the stars. He wondered momentarily if Hermione would ever agree to such an activity. He didn’t think that she would agree to such a thing just for the pleasure of it; but remembering his sore bottom and how moist and musky her knickers were from earlier, Harry realized that his girlfriend was a touch kinky. He even considered momentarily using his super-charged Cheering Charm just to bring that naughty girl out once more, but quickly put that thought aside. He could never use Hermione. He loved her and would never intentionally force her to lower her inhibitions for his pleasure. Hopefully, he thought, a ritual would be in the ‘/special book’/ which would require him putting ‘/Harry, Jr.’/ between Hermione’s beautiful boobs. He felt ‘/Harry, Jr./’ began to stir at the thought of getting the opportunity to frolic with ‘/Carmella/’ and ‘/Natasha/’.
“… I’ve tried talking with Joseph.” Remus sighed dejectedly before continuing. “But he won’t listen to reason.”
The magnificent image of Harry giving Hermione his own special pearl necklace was sadly replaced by another vision of a “Bad Lust” attack. The image this time focused on Tonks taking Remus to visit her folks. Remus gave Mrs. Tonks a kiss as a greeting and shook Mr. Tonks’ hand like a gentleman before Remus began humping their daughter’s leg like a rabid dog – or in Remus’ case — a wolf. Granted, Harry found this image humorous, but he found the image of a naked Hermione underneath him much more preferable.
“… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before now,” concluded Remus. “I just wanted to prepare you for what you’ll find there.”
“Oh, thanks Remus,” Harry responded, absentmindedly. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
What he’ll keep in mind was a total mystery to Harry since he hadn’t heard a word that Remus had said.
“Sorry about that,” Hermione began as she reentered the room. “Did I miss anything?”
“Nothing important,” replied Harry. Hermione gave him a look that clearly told him that the mission was accomplished. Soon, very soon, Tonks would be jumping Remus’ bones and their revenge will be complete!
“All right then, I guess we should be going,” Hermione announced.
“Okay, see you three later,” Remus bid them farewell. But before Harry could turn and leave, Remus said to Tonks: “Tonks, love.”
“Yes, sweetie,” she replied.
“Remind me to throw away the tea,” Remus said as he picked up The Quibbler and started to read it once more. “Hermione spiked it while pretending to use the loo.”
“Yes dear,” Tonks replied nonchalantly as if their tea supply was often spiked and she was rather bored with the chore of throwing it away.
“Why would she spike your tea?” Ron asked.
Harry could feel his eye twitch. His dream of revenge was destroyed before it even started. Remus just killed his dream. Harry looked at Hermione and saw that her eye was twitching as well.
“Just for a prank,” Remus said to Ron.
“But… but…. But how’d you know?” stammered Hermione.
“I have wards up all over the house, and they alert me if something gets disturbed.” Remus answered. “You two will have to come up with better ideas if you want to pull a practical joke on me. Remember, I am a Marauder after all.”
“DAMN IT!” Harry cursed and stomped out of the cottage. Hermione followed, grumbling under her breath. Ron silently followed, not realizing all the trouble his friends had been through.
“Oi, Hermione,” Tonks called out from the house to the trio as Harry signaled for the Knight Bus. “Next time, turn your head. That way you avoid getting it in your eye!” Hermione shot Tonks a dirty look with her one good eye as the pink haired witch continued to taunt; “Oh, and Harry, don’t forget to give Draco a kiss for me!”
The purple bus appeared with a bang and Harry gloomily walked on.
“Godric’s Hollow,” Harry told the driver. Harry sat on a chair in the back after paying the driver and Hermione and Ron soon joined him.
“Why were you trying to prank Remus,” Ron asked.
“He pranked us first,” Harry blurted out not realizing that he would have to describe the prank to Ron. Even though Ron was being a sport concerning Harry and Hermione’s relationship, Harry didn’t want to aggravate Ron by telling him the whole “/Tonks caught me eating out Hermione while you thought you two were still a couple and then Remus pranked us by making us believe the Ministry made flyers describing the scene Tonks saw/” ordeal. So, as quickly as he could, Harry made up a prank that wouldn’t possibly rile Ron. “Remus called me a poopie head.”
Hermione slapped her head in annoyance at Harry’s poor cover-up.
“Really? A ‘/poopie-head’/?” Ron asked; thankfully Ron wasn’t the brightest person in the world. “You’d think a Marauder would come up with a better prank than that.”
Hermione slapped her head again; this time in annoyance to Ron’s stupidity.
“I mean ‘/poopie-head’/ isn’t even funny,” Ron continued, unmindful of Hermione’s vexation. “I thought the Marauders were supposed to be the best pranksters to ever attend Hogwarts. But /’poopie-head’/?” Ron concluded by shaking his head in a disappointed way. “Fred and George would be so disappointed.”
Harry began to grow concerned. Not only was his friend digging into the very unlikely excuse, but worse, Ron appeared to believe it. Harry truly wondered how Ron could be that gullible and trusting.
“But there’s something I don’t understand,” Ron said. “Why would you want to prank Remus back if he called you a ‘/poopie-head/’? I mean, why bother? You could just call him a ‘/berk’/ and be done with it.”
Worrying that his friend might finally deduce that the “poopie-head” story was just a cover-up for the “I got caught eating out Hermione,” Harry decided to divert Ron’s attention.
“Hey, we found where the Horcruxes are hidden!” announced Harry.
“That’s right!” Ron responded. “Where are they?”
“Harry!” hissed Hermione. With a tilt of her head, she indicated a group of four wizards sitting near the front of the Bus. “Do you want them to hear this conversation?”
Harry doubted that they had heard him mention the horcruxes, but he knew that Hermione was right. Discreetly pulling out his wand, Harry pointed it at the group of wizards and muttered: “Muffliato!”
The Muffliato Charm was designed to fill the ears of the people who were hit with it to have their hearing filled with unidentifiable buzzing sounds. It was a simple charm that would allow Harry and his friends to talk without being overheard. It was also a charm that wouldn’t harm anyone. Harry hated to admit it, but Snape did make some useful spells.
The Muffliato Charm wouldn’t harm anyone unless the caster had gone and unwittingly performed a power boosting ritual, much like Harry had.
“OH SWEET MERLIN!” the first wizard shouted while frantically looking around him. “ARE WE UNDER ATTACK FROM MONSTROUSLY HUGE BEES?”
“WHAT DID YOU SAY?” the second wizard screamed at the first.
“THE AGONY OF TINNIUS!” the third hollered while clutching his ears.
“WHAT DID YOU SAY?” the fourth wizard yelled.
Both Ron and Hermione shot looks at Harry as the four wizards continued to frantically scream and shout. Ron’s look told Harry that the red head was confused and didn’t understand why such a simple and harmless charm had created such havoc. However, Hermione’s look was different; it clearly told Harry that she was very upset with him.
“What’s going on?” Ron hollered as the first wizard continued to warn everyone around him at the top of his lung about the impending bee attack. “Why are they acting like that? The Muffliato shouldn’t cause that type of reaction!”
“Because Harry forgot he performed a power-boosting ritual!” yelled Hermione.
“What?” shouted Ron over the cries of the four unknown wizards.
“Harry performed a power-boosting ritual!” she yelled louder.
“WHAT?”
“HE PERFORMED A POWER-BOOSTING RITUAL!!!” screamed Hermione, her face had turned a bright red as she shouted at the top of her lungs.
“Oh, how’d you do it?” Ron asked Harry rather loudly.
Sharing a concerned look with Harry, Hermione began to sputter: “We… um… he… err… well…”
Harry noticed that Ron was trying his best to hear what Hermione was muttering but he could tell that Ron couldn’t hear anything she was saying over the shouts and screams of the four wizards. Harry shouted to Ron “NEVER MIND, IT ISN’T IMPORTANT.”
“ALRIGHT!” Ron shouted and asked “WHERE ARE THE HORCRUXES?”
Hermione must have realized that it would’ve been very difficult to tell Ron the locations of the Horcruxes over the four wizards’ screams so she pulled some parchment out of her robes along with a quill and scratched out some notes. After a moment, she showed Harry the note and shouted in his ear so that he could hear what she was asking: “Does this look right to you?”
Harry quickly read the parchment.
“Slytherin’s locket was at Borgin & Burkes, but was sold to an unknown wizard.
An unknown item is hidden under the orphanage where Riddle was raised.
Hufflepuff’s cup is at number twelve, //Grimmauld Place//. (R. A. B. was Regulus Black, Sirius’ brother)
Voldemort, the final Horcrux.”
Harry silently nodded his head in approval and handed Hermione’s note to Ron. After reading the note once (which took an abnormally long amount of time), Ron reread it again, this time, it appeared that he was counting off the Horcruxes. With a perplexed and somewhat pained look (Harry couldn’t tell if the pained expression on his face was due to the fact that he just had to read something that wasn’t homework or Quidditch related or not), Ron attempted to ask Harry and Hermione a question. Unfortunately, Harry couldn’t hear what he was saying over the four wizards who were now panicking.
“To hell with this,” Harry muttered and pointed his wand at the wizards. “/Finite/”
“Thank heaven,” the first wizard exclaimed as he sat back down. “The monstrously huge bees have called off their attack”
“I’ve been cured!” the third wizard cried out.
The other two wizards sat down and appeared to be pretending as if nothing unusual had just happened.
“What was that Ron?” asked Hermione.
“There’s only four,” Ron answered.
“So?” asked Harry.
“Well including the diary that you destroyed in second year and the ring that Dumbledore destroyed last year; that only makes six.” Ron explained. “I thought there was supposed to be seven of them?”
Harry and Hermione were taken back for two reasons; firstly, Ron was correct in the fact that they were one Horcrux short. And the second and more shocking reason; Ron was correct.
“Maybe we did the ritual wrong,” speculated Hermione. “Perhaps we should do it again.”
Harry’s heart leapt up at the thought of Hermione’s small hands wrapped around ‘Harry, Jr.’ and a goofy grin stretched across his face.
“Maybe I could do it too?” Ron asked hopefully.
The goofy grin quickly disappeared from Harry’s face and he glowered at his friend. ‘What the hell is he implying?’ Harry thought.
“Just what are you implying, Ron?” Hermione demanded, scandalized.
“What? Wait?” Ron sputtered, noticing the shocked looks of his friends. “What’s wrong with me wanting to help? Why can’t I do the ritual?”
“Ron, weren’t you listening to me back in the Common Room? Hermione asked. “I told you: Harry and I performed a… sex based ritual. That’s why ‘not you’!”
“Oh god, no, Hermione,” Ron replied quickly. “Um… No, what I mean is that no I didn’t really pay atten… that is understand you back there. But why can’t I do the ritual? Not with you Hermione. I was thinking about giving Lav-Lav another go.”
“What? Lavender Brown?” Hermione screeched, obviously upset with Ron and his choice of witches. Harry was just glad he wasn’t propositioning Hermione. He loved Ron like a brother, but he had no intention of sharing Hermione with him. “She is a bubble-headed, silly girl,” Hermione continued. “You will not date her again.”
“Why not?” asked Ron.
“Because the only thing you two had in common was over-active hormones!”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“Yes!” Hermione called out. “You cannot have a relationship built strictly on lust, you have to have a relationship, a truly deep and meaningful connection. Like Harry and I do.”
Harry tuned out his friends’ argument; ‘if you’ve hear them argue once, you’ve heard them enough’ he rationalized. His mind drifted back to Godric’s Hollow, the place where he and his family once lived. His heart was filled with anticipation and trepidation at the thought of visiting the house where he was born and where his parents were killed.
“The only way that I will allow you to even contemplate participating in any ritual,” Hermione stated with authority, “will be after Harry and I find you a proper girl you can date.
“And that is final!” Hermione concluded, ending the argument.
The Bus suddenly stopped and a witch with four young children climbed on board. “Godric’s Hollow, please,” she said to the driver.
Harry was a little more than taken back; she wanted to go to Godric’s Hollow like he did. Ever since he had first heard of Godric’s Hollow, Harry had assumed that it was the name of the house he and his parents had lived in. Harry looked over to Hermione, who appeared to be having the same quandary as he. Ron however, was still concentrating over Hermione’s dictate.
“I don’t see why I can’t have a say in who I’m allowed to date,” Ron muttered sullenly. “At least let me have some input, please Hermione?” he pleaded.
“Perhaps, if you behave yourself,” Hermione conceded, simply to stop the discussion.
Maybe, Harry thought, Godric’s Hollow was the name of the village where his parents had lived. This seemed very possible because the Bus stopped again and the people who got on also wanted to go to Godric’s Hollow. It seemed very feasible until Ron spoke up and said: “I haven’t been here since I was a kid. I know it’s kind of lame now that I’ve grown, but it’s still cool.” He then added very excitedly; “I can’t wait to ride the stairway again!”
Before Harry or Hermione could ask Ron what he had meant, the Bus came to a screeching halt and the driver announced, “Godric’s Hollow.” Harry was the first of the trio to exit the Bus, and what he saw made him almost faint.
Harry stood in front of a large grey warehouse. There were a number of wizards and witches with their children that had formed a queue waiting to get into the building. This wasn’t all that shocking, but the flashing sign hanging above the entrance to the warehouse was the thing that made Harry almost faint. The sign stated:
“Welcome to Godric’s Hollow; Home of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived! Watch Mr. and Mrs. Potter as they bravely try to fight off He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named! Marvel at the miracle of You-Know-Who’s downfall!
Ticket Prices:
Adults: 3 knuts
Children (11 and under) 2 knuts
Seniors (80 and older) 2 knuts.”
“Excuse me, but either join the queue or get out of the way please,” a witch with three children said to Harry as she pushed her way past him. The witch then stepped in the back of a line that went from the street where Harry had stepped off of the Bus to the entrance.
From inside the warehouse, Harry could hear shouts of excitement, cries of fear, and various explosions.
“What the bloody hell is this?” Hermione asked, giving voice to Harry’s internal question.
“It’s just a tourist ride,” Ron explained, ignorant to the shock Harry was experiencing.
Harry wanted to hurt somebody. Hurt them very, very badly. He didn’t care who that somebody was; he needed someone to hurt, very, very badly. Then Ron had the misfortune to offer “Hey I know, since I didn’t get you a birthday present, how ’bout I buy you a glowing ‘/baby Harry/’?”
And the somebody that Harry needed to hurt very, very badly was going to be Ron.
To be continued.

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Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor
Chapter One
Disclamer: Not mine, I own nothing. I’m not making any money either.
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 One Summary: Harry receives a helping… hand in his quest for Voldemort’s Horcuxes.
——————————————————————————–
As the sun crept into the smallest bedroom in the house at # 4 Privet Drive, Harry Potter fought the urge to wake up. Harry was having a nice pleasant dream. He dreamt that he was sitting on the shore of the ocean with his feet in the cool water, while reading a book about lighthouses. Two odd things about the dream stood out for Harry. The first was that he couldn’t place where he was in the dream, but it was somewhere between two hills with high peaks. And the second odd thing was that he could clearly smell the book he was reading but couldn’t smell the ocean; the book had an enticing musky odor to it. It was an curious dream, but Harry liked it because the horrors of his past weren’t revisiting him like they usually did during his normal dreams. The young wizard wanted to stay in this slumber-land for just a little longer. Of course, the sun had different plans and one cannot argue with the sun when its horrible, golden, life-giving rays are pounding down upon one’s face now can they? Lousy effing sun.
With a pitiful groan, Harry slowly woke up. He continued to lie in bed as he looked up at the ceiling without his glasses for a good long time. After he was satisfied that the ceiling had been stared at long enough, and after he had gotten thoroughly bored with said activity, Harry surveyed the room and it contents for a moment until his blurry eyes fell on his tiny desk. The desk was littered with bits of parchment, old newspapers and a number of framed photos.
His eyes tried unsuccessfully to focus on a picture of what appeared to be himself, Hermione, and Ron taken around their first year at Hogwarts. His vision then slipped to a picture of a raven haired man snuggling on a couch with a red-haired woman. Harry’s heart sank as his mind replayed his short relationship with that red-haired woman. At the beginning of his sixth year, Harry finally noticed that Ginny was a woman, a beautiful one at that, with boobs and bouncing, shiny hair. Of course he had to end the fledgling relationship at the end of the school year for Ginny’s safety. Harry knew that anyone who he considered his girlfriend would be a target for Voldemort and his asslick… err… that is bootlickers. He hated hurting Ginny’s feelings and being lonely himself, but it had to be done, for her sake.
After lying in his bed while somehow simultaneously berating and congratulating himself on his decision to break up with Ginny, Harry forced himself to get up. The young wizard stood and stretched his arms. After wiping the sleep from his eyes, Harry finally put on his glasses and took note of the time. It was barely half past six in the morning and his relatives wouldn’t be up for a little while. Not that it mattered anyway; his Aunt, Uncle and cousin had done their best to ignore Harry these past few weeks, and he did the same to them. It was mutually beneficial. Of course, Harry knew that the Dursleys were planning a very large “going away” party the day after his birthday, the day after he was supposed to leave their house forever.
His eyes fell back to the picture of Ginny and himself on the desk and Harry’s heart stopped beating for one full second. The man in the picture looked exactly like he did and the woman looked very similar to Ginny. The only problem was that it wasn’t Harry and Ginny snuggling in the picture. It was Harry’s mum and dad, Lily and James. Harry broke out in a cold sweat as a sudden realization dawned upon him:
‘Ginny looks like my mum!’
He’d lusted after a girl who physically reminded him of his mother!
Harry a spent a good portion of the previous school year snogging a girl that looked like his mother! Harry felt very ill. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear Freud giggling like a school-boy at the thought of Harry being attracted to a girl who looked like his mother! The room started to spin wildly and last night’s dinner threatened to escape his body in ways it wasn’t supposed to.
After rushing to the bathroom, Harry emptied his entire stomach into the toilet. ‘That’s odd; I don’t remember having corn last night.’ His mind kept remembering what Ginny’s (the woman who looked like his mother) lips felt like when he kissed them. That’s when the dry heaves kicked in. Harry tried to wretch some more but there was nothing left to vomit. An image of him cupping Ginny’s small breast ripped through his mind and a small thought was attached to that image: ‘Were mum’s tits like that?’
“Holy Christ!” Harry shouted and banged his head against the toilet in a futile attempt to rid his mind of the troubling images him fondling a girl who looked like his mother! That or knock himself out, which ever came first.
He suddenly felt very, very, very dirty. He remembered how aroused he was when Ginny had shoved her tongue into his mouth, but Harry now thought idly if his mother’s tongue moved like Ginny’s. Then the most horrid of question’s entered the young man’s mind: “If Ginny looks like my mother, does she taste like her, too?’
Harry groaned pitifully as he snatched a toothbrush off the counter. It could’ve been Dudley’s but Harry didn’t care (the corpulent boy hardly used it anyway). He squeezed a sizable dollop of tooth-paste on the bristles and began to brush vigorously. After Harry had used up half the tube of tooth-paste and thirty-five minutes of aggressively brushing his teeth, gums, and tongue, his cousin Dudley walked into the bathroom. The enormously fat boy looked in horror at the site (1) before him: his freak of a relative was hunched over the basin with a copious amount of foam covering the lower half of his face and dripping from his mouth.
Harry turned to his cousin and tried to shout: “GET OUT OF HERE!” Unfortunately, because of all the foam in his mouth, all Harry could muster was something like “GHTE TOOUE OV HERGELTH!” A fortunate side effect of this outburst was that Dudley’s rotund face was coated with spittle and mint-scented foam as Harry spat and sprayed his demand. Harry could hear Dudley screaming like a terrified little girl as he ran down the stairs, out of the house, and into the street in his pajamas and fuzzy slippers.
After a scalding hot shower where Harry not only used up the hot water from # 4, but conceivably the rest of the block’s hot water as well, Harry walked into his room and saw something quite unusual. He saw a ghost with what looked like leather armor sitting on his bed. Harry had never seen a ghost outside of school, but the most peculiar thing about this ghost was that he was somehow holding the most recent edition of The Sun newspaper, even though ghosts couldn’t hold anything normally. But the oddest thing was that the unknown spirit had it opened to the infamous Page Three.
“Oh yeah, that’s what I like,” the ghost said lustfully, unaware that Harry had entered the room. “I bet you liked to be spanked don’t you, you saucy wench!”
“Um, excuse me…” interjected Harry, but the ghost ignored him as he continued to ogle the young topless nymph on the page.
“Cor, look at those nibblers! Poor thing must be cold…” grunted the ghost as his right hand left the newspaper and started to reach for his lap.
“EXCUSE ME!” shouted Harry in a mortified tone. The ghost lowered The Sun and looked at Harry. The specter grinned at him and stood up. Thankfully for the young wizard, the ghost used The Sun as a crotch guard so that his “state” was hidden from sight from the already overwrought wizard.
“Sorry ’bout that, Harry. You were taking so long in the shower, and a man has needs you know…” stated the ghost. Harry was taken back that this strange ghost knew his name. “Sorry about the scare, how are you boy?” asked the ghost.
“I’m fine,” answered Harry and then asked; “who are you?”
“Oh, I’m just grand thanks for asking,” replied the unknown ghost. “That’s very nice of you; you know, too many folk these days are so rude.”
“Pardon, but I didn’t ask ‘how are you,’ I asked ‘who are you?'” Harry repeated, a bit irritated.
“Oh, sorry ’bout that,” the ghost responded completely perplexed and a little offended. “You don’t recognize me?” to which Harry shook his head, “What, did you fall asleep in History of Magic?”
“Yes,” responded Harry, “quite often actually.”
“Well, I’m Godric Gryffindor!” the ghost replied theatrically and struck a heroic pose.
Harry was a bit awestruck; here was the ghost of Gryffindor, one of the founders of the finest Wizarding School in the world standing in Harry’s tiny bedroom. Harry’s reverence quickly turned into disgust as he noticed that when Gryffindor struck his heroic pose that he dropped his newspaper and that it was apparent that the ghost was still aroused. Harry held his hand in front of his face in an attempt to block the ghost’s crotch from view.
“Um, what do you want?” Harry asked, quite disturbed that he now knew with certainty due to the ghost’s partial arousal that Godric Gryffindor “dressed right.”
“Well aren’t you gonna ask how I am?” the ghost questioned.
“I already did,” Harry retorted, “and you said you were ‘just grand.'”
“No, you asked who I was, not how I was. It was an understandable mistake on my part seeing how you young people tend to mutter.”
“I don’t mutter,” Harry muttered.
“I think we should proceed with formalities before I continue,” Gryffindor finished with an air of arrogance.
“Alright have it your way, how are you?” asked Harry. A tiny headache started to form behind the young man’s eyes.
“Well, I was just grand until I met this rude man today,” the ghost responded a bit put out.
“Sorry ’bout that,” Harry huffed through clenched teeth. The tiny headache grew slightly so that it was now an annoying headache.
“It’s okay, I suppose,” Gryffindor said as he sat back down on Harry’s bed. “I came here today to help you in you quest for Voldemort’s Horcuxes.”
“How do you know about that?” Harry asked, with a great deal of surprise. As far as he knew, only Dumbledore, Ron, Hermione, and himself knew about the so-called quest.
“The old codger told me about it,” the ghost responded. “I know of a useful tool you can use to destroy the Horcuxes when you find them.”
“What is it?” Harry asked, eager for any help he could get.
“Aren’t you going to say ‘please’?” Gryffindor asked with a pout. Harry’s annoying headache exploded into a full fledged migraine.
“Oh, sod off you silly old bugger!” Harry hissed.
“Oh my, such language!” the ghost said with mock offence. “Fine, spoil my fun, it’s my old sword.”
“The sword of Gryffindor?” Harry asked.
“Didn’t I just say that? D’ya need to clean out your ears, boy?”
“No, I don’t!” Harry barked as his normal full fledged migraine turned into a throbbing full fledged migraine. “I just don’t see how the sword could help me.”
“Dumbledore didn’t tell me you were daft,” Gryffindor said sadly. “It’s a sword! You swing it and it cuts things! You can use it to destroy the Horcuxes!”
“Couldn’t I just use a heavy rock to break them? Why would I need your sword?”
“Dumbledore used a rock on that ring, that’s how his hand got all burnt,” the ghost answered. “The sword has charms on it to protect you.”
“Oh,” said Harry simply.
“‘Oh’ he says,” Gryffindor mocked. “Also, if you’re close enough to the site where the Horcux is, the sword can function as a divining rod to locate the blasted thing.”
“Okay, that’ll be helpful. When I turn seventeen in two days, and get freedom from this place, I’ll go to Hogwarts and fetch your sword.”
“No, do it now!” commanded Gryffindor. “Why wait?”
“Because I have to stay here until I turn seventeen,” Harry said to which the ghost made a “pfft” noise. Harry ignored Gryffindor and continued. “Besides, there are members of the Order watching me. I just can’t up and leave. They would stop me and shove me back in here and tell me to wait two days.”
“Fine, I didn’t want to tell you this but the sword will be rendered worthless if you don’t claim it by tomorrow,” stated Gryffindor seriously. “The charms around the sword will drop if it doesn’t have someone to wield it.”
“Alright, I’ll go out there and tell the Order member about the sword and why I need it.” Harry said.
“Good plan; tell them and risk having them tell someone else about the Horcruxes and then risk them telling someone else and so on until Voldemort finds out and moves the Horcrux and then you’re completely screwed,” Gryffindor said. The ghost’s words sunk in and Harry knew that it could possibly end up that way.
“Okay, but then I’ll need some sort of distraction so I can slip away from the house without being seen,” Harry said aloud.
“I’m sure you know someone clever enough to help you with that,” the ghost offered.
“Brilliant, I’ll Owl the twins!” Harry exclaimed. He quickly went to his desk and began to write a letter to Fred and George. “They know loads of tricks to fool the Order.”
“cough Hermione cough” Gryffindor ‘coughed’ loudly behind Harry.
“Excuse me, what was that?”
“Me? Oh nothing,” Gryffindor replied, and pointed to his throat. “Just a tickle.”
“Fine then, let me just write this letter,” stated Harry as he turned his attention back to the parchment. Just as Harry scrawled out the words: “Dear Fred and George,” on the paper, Gryffindor conveniently “coughed” again.
“cough Hermione cough Hermione cough”
“I’m sorry, but would you like for me to write to Hermione instead?” Harry asked petulantly.
“I really shouldn’t interfere with the living so much,” the ghost said innocently, “but I hear that the young witch is exceedingly clever.”
Harry crumpled the parchment he was working on and got a fresh one. He simply wrote:
Hermione,
I need your help.
Harry
The bespectacled man attached the letter to Hedwig’s leg and the owl flew out of the window.
“Now sit down boy, we have some time to kill until you friend replies to your post,” Gryffindor ordered. “Let me tell you a few stories… stories about the prettiest woman I ever shagged; Rowena Ravenclaw.”
For the next ninety-seven and a half minutes, Gryffindor traumatized Harry with stories of his sexual exploits with one of the other founders of Hogwarts. Harry wondered at one point if Ravenclaw had minded that Gryffindor had stuck his wand (mind you it wasn’t his figurative wand, but his actual wand; ten inches made of birch, “My other wand isn’t so small if you know what I mean.”) in that ‘place’ and wondered, too, if she had gotten splinters. Harry also learned that the Shrieking Shack that Remus used when he went to Hogwarts as a student wasn’t the first place to use that particular title; apparently, it was also the name given to Ravenclaw’s personal quarters. Gryffindor concluded with the gem “Brainy birds are always naughty.”
Gryffindor clapped his hands and asked: “Now that’s done what would you like for me to talk to you about?”
“Oh god, please nothing,” Harry murmured in fear. “Please, no more.”
“Alright then, how about a game of strip Parcheesi?”
Harry had started to make a mad dash for the door when he heard a familiar BANG from the street below. Harry turned to see a three-tiered purple bus parked outside his relatives’ house. He also noticed with a happy heart that the ghost of Godric Gryffindor had disappeared.
Another loud bang signified the Knight Bus disappearing again. Harry made his way to the front door. When he reached for the door-knob, someone pressed the buzzer. Harry opened the door to find a very perturbed and upset Hermione.
“You needed my help?” Hermione demanded.
“Hello Hermione, nice to see you too. I’m fine, thanks for asking,” Harry greeted her with just a touch of sarcasm.
“Oh, can it Harry,” she replied irritably, “I’ve had a rotten day.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Harry began to apologize.
“Actually I should thank you,” Hermione interrupted and she walked into the Dursley house. As Hermione walked past Harry, he noticed a pleasing musky odor, like an old book, wafting off the young witch. Harry rationalized that she must’ve been reading one of her ancient tomes on the Bus. “You saved me from that lecherous git.”
Harry wondered briefly if Hermione had been visited by Gryffindor’s ghost as well.
After Harry led his friend into his room, he asked her what was troubling her. He had decided to talk to Hermione about the sword after he made sure Hermione was alright.
“I just came from the Burrow,” began Hermione as she sat down on his bed. “I decided to spend some quality time with Ron because we’re together now. I had started to talk about us, what we like, what we do in our free time, and what not. Well, after I had exhausted my knowledge of all-things Quidditch and began to discus other topics, Ron started to doze off! He literally had drool coming out of the side of his mouth!
“So I decided that we would have to do something else, seeing how I was boring him into a stupor.” Hermione continued and Harry sat close to her. “I asked him, after I was finally able to wake him of course, if he wanted to do something; perhaps take a nice walk around the forest behind the Burrow.
“He completely discounted my idea and came up with one of his own. And what was this brilliant idea of his? Snogging! He said ‘let’s snog’ and grabbed my tit like this!” Hermione demonstrated by seizing her right breast and shoving it up. This action led to several other things. The first thing was that Hermione accidentally unbuttoned three buttons on her blouse, but she was too angry to notice. This action led directly into the second action, because of her breast being shoved up and the accidental unbuttoning incident, Hermione’s right breast was exposed quite a bit more than she had intended. Which led to the third and final action: Harry noticed for the first time that his friend Hermione had rather nice boobs.
They weren’t overly large, maybe slightly larger than a handful, but they were definitely an improvement on Ginny’s. They also appeared to be delectably firm, something that he would like to suckl…
‘OH MY GOD!’ Harry’s mind screamed. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing, Potter? She’s you best friend! Stop looking at Hermione’s lovely… er… wonderful… boobs…’ Harry’s upper-mind ceased its self-recrimination as Hermione dropped her breast as yet another button flew free, unbeknownst to the blouse’s owner, and her enticing cleavage was revealed to poor Harry. The Boy-Who-Lived was mesmerized by the way his friend’s milky flesh curved and then disappeared cruelly behind her white cotton bra. That damn bra mocked Harry, teasing the young man, saying: ‘There’s more underneath, more to see… and they are called nipples!’
‘STOP IT!’ Harry’s upper brain took over and tore his eyes away from his friend’s glorious mounds. Luckily for Harry, Hermione didn’t notice where his eyes seemed to have been glued for the past few seconds. And even more fortuitous, she didn’t notice ‘Harry, Jr.’ trying to free himself from his damn denim prison and give a proper ‘Hello’ to her. Because if she did notice, she would have known that her friend was a true Gryffindor in that he, like the house founder “dressed right.”
“…I told him; ‘NO, not yet. Let’s talk for a bit.’ And then he said, ‘Talk about what?'” the brunette witch continued. “I couldn’t think of anything to talk about! It hit me; we have two things in common. First, we argue constantly, and secondly, you’re our best friend Harry.”
“Um, thanks… I like friends,” Harry said dumbly, half-listening, half-wishing that ‘Harry, Jr.’ would stand down, before Hermione noticed his state of arousal.
“I wish Ron and I were like you and Ginny,” Hermione stated. With the mention of Ginny’s name, Harry had gotten his wish; ‘Harry, Jr.’ went into sudden hibernation. “I know you two broke up, but you have loads in common. You both like to play Quidditch and… and… and…”
Hermione stopped for a good long time. Harry would often see her go into these lapses whenever she was faced with a perplexing question. Her eyes would burn intensely as she worried her lip. No difficult challenge stood in the way of the awesome mental powers of Hermione Jane Granger, smartest witch in her generation, when she put her mind to it.
“And you were both possessed by Voldemort,” Hermione offered after a good minute of deep thought. “And…” Hermione began to slip back into her “deep-thought mode” when Harry offered some food for thought:
“And she looks like my mum,” Harry said pointing to the photo of his mother and father on his desk. Hermione scrutinized the photo for a second before becoming quite pale, then green.
“Oh, my god, that’s disturbing,” said Hermione as she took a deep calming breath.
“Tell me about it,” Harry stated.
“And you kissed her!” Hermione said shocked.
“Don’t remind me!” pleaded Harry as he felt nauseous once again.
“At least you didn’t tongue kiss her…” Hermione paused as she saw the guilty look on his face. “Oh, my GOD! You tongue kissed a girl who looks like your mother!”
“Hermione, please… stop,” whined Harry.
“Please tell me you at least didn’t feel her up, Harry.”
“Um…”
“Wait! DON’T TELL ME!” Hermione demanded.
Hermione stood up and began pacing the room. On her third pass, Harry’s nausea was replaced with arousal when he noticed how Hermione’s slacks hugged her bum. ‘Harry, Jr.’ woke up once more shouting, ‘It’s play time.’
“Why can’t Ron and I and Ginny and you be like the two of us? The way we are,” Hermione questioned. “You and I have so much in common. We were both raised in the Muggle world…”
“… So the magical world is new and fascinating to us every day.” Harry finished Hermione’s statement automatically. He had to finish it automatically because his conscious mind was amazed at how supple and yet firm Hermione’s bottom looked. For the first time in his life, Harry was glad that he wore his cousin’s cast-offs. The circus tent that passed for pants helped hide his state.
“We both enjoy going to Hogwarts,” continued Hermione. “And we both excel in at least one class. You’re tops in Defense…
“… And you are great at Charms, Transfigurations, and pretty much everything…”
“We both like tutoring,” Hermione offered. “You were brilliant with the DA. I mean you taught two of us how to cast a corporeal Patronus!”
“And you were brilliant teaching me the summoning charm to get past the first task. Heck, everyone in Gryffindor would’ve failed all their classes if you didn’t help us out.”
When Hermione stopped pacing and stood in front of Harry, he noticed that she appeared… flushed. She had a rosy bloom all over her exposed skin; especially on her lovely… wonderful… boobs.
“We’re both quick witted and clever,” Hermione said licking her lips as if she was anticipating something.
“I tricked Malfoy into freeing Dobby,” said Harry. “And you tricked both Skeeter and Umbridge into doing things that needed to be done.”
“Um, I actually blackmailed Skeeter,” corrected Hermione. She continued in a breathy and husky tone, “We’ve both been into the Forbidden Forest loads of times, whereas Ron equals Neville by only being in twice…”
“We’re both in Gryf… fin… dor…” Harry stammered when he saw a touch of lust in his friend’s beautiful eyes.
“We share the same initials for our first and middle names…” Hermione said huskily as she intentionally unbutton one of the remaining buttons on her blouse.
“H… J…” Harry panted as he was bewitched by even more flesh. “Wait, that’s kind of lame…”
“Oh, bugger it!” Hermione muttered and then leapt on Harry. Their lips met instinctively, as if they had been destined to. A fantastic tingling sensation erupted from Harry’s lips and raced through his body, something that ‘Harry, Jr.’ really seemed to appreciate, because he desperately wanted to say ‘Hi.’
Harry’s tongue involuntarily touched her lips. Hermione groaned into his mouth as her tongue came out to play with Harry’s. He didn’t realize when his hands started to wander, but he certainly liked it. His left hand was firmly on her bum, squeezing occasionally, while his other hand had traveled under her blouse and was running over her smooth, warm skin. Of course, this only inflated ‘Harry, Jr.’s’ attention who was now virtually banging his tin cup against the steel bars of his zipper prison chanting; “Azkaban, Azkaban, Azkaban…”
“Is that your wand in you pocket, or are you just happy to see me, Harry?” Hermione asked playfully after pulling herself away from his lips.
“Um… ah…um…” Harry bumbled in shock as he looked between ‘Harry, Jr.’, Hermione, and his wand which was lying on his desk. “Well I…err…”
“It’s a joke, Harry,” Hermione stated, easing the young man’s embarrassment. Then she did something Harry had never seen her do before, Hermione appeared to work up a great amount of saliva in her mouth and then licked her left palm, leaving it covered in spit. Before Harry could ask her what she was doing, Hermione stuffed her left hand down the front of Harry’s trousers and gave a firm, yet polite and very welcomed handshake to ‘Harry, Jr.’
“Oh my…” Harry squeaked as his eyes crossed. Hermione nibbled on his ear as she continued her ministrations in Harry’s pants. Again, Harry was overjoyed at the fact that he had inherited the over-sized pants he was wearing, for it gave Hermione’s hand ample space for movement. “Oh wow… I… wow… this is… neat…”
“Shut the hell up and kiss me Harry!” ordered Hermione. Harry was all too happy to comply. He kissed, suckled, and nibbled on various areas of Hermione’s face and neck while his hands memorized every curve she had on her bum and chest. Hermione seemed to just focus her attention to the task at hand, or rather the task in her hand.
The two teens played a game as they rolled around on Harry’s bed; one trying their damnedest to arouse the other. Of course, in this game, Hermione had the upper… ahem…hand.
Tears of joy seeped out of ‘Harry, Jr.’s eye and a squelching noise emanated from Harry’s trousers. Harry’s world started to spin. After years of solo practice, he knew he didn’t have much time left. He could feel the pressure build up in his loins as ‘Harry, Jr.’ begged for release. ‘This is so much better when someone else does it for you!’
Crunch
“Oh god, Hermione…” groaned Harry.
“Oh, Harry…” Hermione said wickedly.
Crunch
“What the hell is that noise?” Harry asked in a very perturbed manner. He tore his eyes away from the brunette witch on top of him and saw a leather-clad ghost sitting on the floor eating from a bucket of popcorn. The ghost smiled in a repugnant way and said;
“I told you the brainy ones were naughty.”
To be continued!
Footnote: (1) The word “site” was intentionally misused it’s an improper homophone, hey, if JKR can use the wrong word, so can I.

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Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor
Chapter Six
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 Six Summary: The Scavenger Hunt… err… the search for the Horcruxes begins! In order to locate the Horcruxes, Harry and Hermione use their inner-eye, that and Hermione gets something in her eye.
An ungodly scream erupted from Hermione as she discovered that it was Godric Gryffindor who was fondling her arse. In a combination of disgust and panic, Hermione tried to flee from the ancient and lecherous ghost. Unfortunately for Hermione’s impromptu escape plan, Harry’s right hand was still tangled in her bushy hair which forced her to unwillingly attempt to drag him along with her. More unfortunately though, Harry was much heavier that she was. With a resounding crash, Harry and Hermione crumpled to the floor. The couple landed in an unnatural and uncomfortable pile, with Harry on top. Thankfully though, this led to Harry’s hand becoming untangled from Hermione’s hair.
“Ooh,” Gryffindor exclaimed. “That had to hurt.”
Groaning, Hermione tried to wriggle free from Harry’s body and tangled limbs. But, she did a little too good of a job wriggling. You see, because of their awkward positions and that pesky thing called gravity, Harry’s crotch was firmly pressed against Hermione’s shapely bottom. And Hermione’s squirming caused ‘/Harry, Jr./’ to wake up, and very quickly as well. Hermione obviously felt Harry poking her in the bum for she growled, “Not now, Harry!”
Harry didn’t care about the uncomfortable position they were in or the fact that Gryffindor was watching. All Harry wanted was for Hermione to wriggle her bum against ‘/Harry, Jr./’ some more. He loved how it felt to have ‘/Harry, Jr/.’ pressed in-between Hermione’s cheeks.
“Harry!” barked Hermione.
Harry begrudgingly obliged and untangled himself from Hermione’s body. Realizing that he needed to get back on Hermione’s good side, he gallantly assisted her in regaining her feet. The now-erect…. um, upright couple glared at the ghost. Hermione took a deep breath and was about to verbally attack Gryffindor when the ghost pointed at Harry’s groin and declared, “You are a true Gryffindor… you ‘/dress right/,’ just like me!”
“Why are you here?” Hermione demanded, ignoring Gryffindor’s comment on Harry’s state.
“I was checking up on your search for Voldemort’s Horcruxes,” explained the ghost. “So, how’s it going?”
“If you must know, we haven’t begun yet,” said Hermione.
“Why not?” questioned Godric.
“We were working on a plan for when Harry faces Voldemort,” Hermione answered. “Voldemort has decades of experience more than Harry and he has gone through power-boosting rituals as well. Harry has to train, to learn more skills and somehow become more powerful, otherwise he won’t stand a chance. It won’t matter if Harry has destroyed all of the Horcruxes if he can’t defeat Voldemort.”
“You think too much,” retorted Gryffindor.
“Oh, what would you suggest we do then?” Harry asked, finally joining the argument.
“It’s not really difficult. You sneak up behind him and stab him with the sword,” exclaimed Godric.
“Oh,” said Harry, a bit taken back at the simplicity of the plan.
“It’s not that easy,” argued Hermione. “How would Harry get past all of Voldemort’s Death Eaters and any defensive wards he may have around him, and still sneak up and stab him?”
“Easy,” replied the ghost. “You flash ’em your titties.” The ghost then lowered his head so that his eyes were level with ‘/Carmella’/ and ‘/Natasha’/ and said, “Alright, whip ’em out and lets see if they are ‘/distraction’/ worthy.”
“You disgusting…” Hermione seethed, as she defensively crossed her arms over her chest..
“Alright, I can tell I’ve upset you,” Gryffindor apologized. “So I reckon you’ll only have to show me one of your boobs then. Alright, let’s see the… right one.”
“Get out!” Hermione commanded, pointing to the door. With a disappointed huff, the specter marched to the door.
“Fine, but you two better get cracking,” began Gryffindor and he stepped out into the hall. “People are getting hurt out there… and according to the prophesy, Harry’s the only one who can defeat Voldemort.”
“He’s right you know,” sighed Hermione.
Harry was stunned, she agreed with Gryffindor’s plan? Harry imagined Hermione standing on a hill in front of Voldemort with her blouse open and jiggling her lovely boobs at the snake-like villain. Now, Harry rather liked Hermione’s boobs and he could easily get distracted by them himself, but he doubted that Voldemort would have the same problem. After all, there weren’t all than many female Death Eaters, were there? Which might lead some people to question Voldemort’s “orientation”? He did exclusively hang around Wormtail for a year, and people do have needs.
“People are getting hurt,” Hermione concluded.
“Oh, that” Harry said aloud. A part of him was upset that she wasn’t talking about her boobs.
“We still need advanced training, but we can search for the Horcruxes at the same time,” Hermione announced. And then she abruptly changed subjects by ordering: “Now give me the book.”
“Um… Book? What book do you mean?” asked Harry, attempted to play ignorant, even though he knew she was referring to his ‘/special book/.’
“I assume it’s in your room,” stated Hermione, not falling for Harry’s weak ploy.
Harry gave up and nodded his head. Hopping on his Firebolt, Harry hovered next to Hermione as they left her room and headed to his. After arriving in his room, Harry retrieved the book from his trunk and reluctantly handed it to Hermione.
“The Magic of Making Love: By Thos Antric,” Hermione read aloud. “Is this a joke? ‘/Thomas Antric/’?” she asked rhetorically. “A man named ‘/T. Antric/’ wrote a book on Tantric Magic?”
“What’s the big deal? I don’t get it,” Harry responded to Hermione’s question, not realizing it was rhetorical.
“Tantric Magic is magic through sex; this book is about magic and sex. The author’s name is obviously meant to be a humorous pseudonym.”
“Oh,” Harry replied, feeling a little silly for not knowing.
Hermione opened the book and started to thumb through the pages. She paused on one particular page and scrutinized it before asking, “Is that her foot by her own ear or is it his?”
“I was wondering about that myself,” replied Harry.
“So, Harry, can I assume that you learned how to perform cunnilingus from this text?” she asked, leaving the quandary of ‘/whose foot is that?/’ for later.
“Yeah,” replied Harry. “Um… it’s on page three hundred and forty two.”
Hermione turned the pages until she got to the section entitled: “/The Hidden Benefits of Being a Parselmouth; Cunnilingus and You!/” It only took Hermione a few minutes to read the entire chapter twice. She closed the book, looked at Harry and asked “Let me guess, you skipped over the theories and benefits when you read this?”
“Well you know how much theory bores me,” explained Harry. “And as to the benefits, all I really cared to know was that it would be something that would make you happy.”
“Thank you Harry,” Hermione said with a bloom in her cheeks. “You really did make me… happy.
“But I think that it’s an important point that you skipped the segments on benefits,” she continued. “You see, you unknowingly performed a power boosting ritual.”
“I un-what-ingly what a what what?” stammered Harry, a little shocked at Hermione’s revelation.
“This chapter in the book was written so Parselmouths, like yourself, could use their unique ability to gain a temporary boost in their magical power.” Hermione explained. “That would explain how you set the Common Room on fire yesterday and why you /’accidentally’ /Summoned my bra earlier. You see, you’re not used to having such power and it’s taking you a little time to adjust.”
“Wow,” Harry muttered, still a little stunned. “You said that it was temporary; how long until the boost is gone?”
“Hmm… it says about six to seven months,” informed Hermione after she checked the text once more. “So we won’t have to do the ritual again for a few months.”
A wicked grin appeared on Harry’s face as he asked “So can we do it again?”
“No, that would be pointless,” Hermione answered, her eyes focused on the text. “The book clearly states that the power boost can only be gained every six to seven months. The tactic doesn’t allow for a continual growth in your core through repeated attempts.”
“So can we do it again?” repeated Harry, this time putting more emphases on the word “it”.
“Harry, the only reason to do it again would be to…” Hermione began and paused as she finally noticed Harry’s wicked grin. The witch blushed while Harry wriggled his eyebrows. “Oh… well there would be that… reason, wouldn’t there?”
Harry walked over to Hermione and leaned in close to her so that his mouth was very close to her ear. He closed his eyes and focused on the image of a snake in his mind before saying in Parseltongue: “C’mon Hermione, I want to taste you again.”
Hermione shuddered with desire as she obviously recalled the event from the last time Harry used his snake-language on her.
“Harry, we have more important things…” Hermione began to argue.
“It’ll be fun,” Harry said in Parseltongue. He kissed the tender spot behind Hermione’s earlobe while gently pushing his Parselmouth magic into her.
“Oh dear,” muttered Hermione, her resolve failing. “H-Harry we have to look for the…” Harry placed another one of his magical kisses on the nape of her neck. “My goodness…. t-there’s this book to…re… read….” With a deft flick of his fingers, Harry pushed the top of her gown down, exposing her marvelous breasts. Before she could object, Harry’s lips enveloped “/Carmella/” and continued to push his Parseltongue magic into Hermione. “H-H-Harryyyy…” Hermione began, her breath was escaping her lungs in short and rapid bursts. “We’re wasting…. v-valuable t-t-time…” Harry silenced her momentarily by switching to “/Natasha/” and continuing the same tactic. “Good god, that feels so good…. But we can’t, we need…”
Harry pulled himself away from Hermione’s nipple and offered in English, “How about you read the book while I eat you out?”
“Okay!” Hermione gleefully shouted and flopped down on the bed as she held the open book in the air and started to read aloud. “‘/Welcome to the wonderful world of Love Magic!’/” Harry wasted no time and pulled her gown all the way off. “‘/My name is Thomas Antric and I’ll be your guide/…'”
Harry gently removed Hermione’s already moist knickers and marveled once more at her shaved flower.
“‘/Many people have misconceptions about Love Magic. Too many people believe it is just about…/'”
Concentrating on a snake again, Harry began to work his magic on Hermione’s lower lips. Hermione immediately started to randomly read certain portions of the text louder and faster.
“‘…/SSSSSEX!// But that isn’t the case. It just so happ… happens TO BE a p-p-pleasant SSSSSIDE effect/…'”
He gently massaged her clit with his thumb while using his tongue to penetrate her vagina. After a moment, her body glistened with sweat and her honey flowed out of her body. Harry lapped it up like a starving man. Harry twirled his magical tongue in this way and that around Hermione’s bud and nether lips for a good amount of time while Hermione continued to read page after page.
“‘…/the theory behind THIS is SIMPLE/…'”
After several minutes, Harry decided to change tactics slightly. He decided to add his love based magic to his Parselmouth magic. He started to concentrate on just how much he felt for Hermione and how deeply. Harry’s new approach had an instantaneous effect on Hermione; she locked her legs around his head and began to scream out the text.
“‘… /THE MORE P-P-P-PLEA//SUR//E THE COUPLE FEEEEEELS, THE MORE POWER ISSSS PUT INTO THE RIT-RITUAL/…”
When Harry had gone down on her before, he was surprised how wet she had gotten, but it was nothing compared to how much she was flowing this time. Hermione’s juices ran out of her box and soiled the sheets of the bed. His face had become incredibly damp and the excess dripped steadily down his chin.
Hermione didn’t last long after Harry’s love magic poured through her body. She dropped Harry’s ‘/special book/’ to her side and started to thrash wildly on the bed as an orgasm unlike any Harry had seen her have before rocked her body. She cried out in pleasure as wave after wave of ecstasy hit her. She gushed so much that he nearly choked on her juices. Harry clung to her, riding her flailing body as she gushed again and again.
Harry watched his more-than-a-friend, no, Harry realized, his girlfriend laying on his bed. Hermione was breathing heavily and her luscious body dripping with sweat. Hermione was trembling in ecstasy as she spurted the last remnants of her orgasm. Harry was about to congratulate himself when he noticed that ‘/Harry, Jr./’ was trying to get his attention. The organ was painfully erect and was apparently saddened because he wasn’t allowed to play; ‘Harry, Jr.’ seemed to be crying.
“Looks like you’ve got a problem there Harry,” said Hermione, noticing Harry’s aroused state from her prone position. She added in a lusty and husky tone: “I think we need to perform an experiment. I should do to you what I did when I was under the effects of Ginny’s Lust Potion. Just to prove once and for all that it wasn’t just the potion making me do it, mind you.”
“Huh?” Harry muttered, a little taken back at Hermione’s tone.
“I think I should do a repeat performance,” She continued. Hermione pointed at Harry’s aroused state and said: “Let me give you a hand with that.” For the second time ever that Harry had known her, Hermione worked up a large amount of saliva in her mouth before licking her palm. Harry shuddered with desire at the memory of Hermione’s hand wrapped around ‘/Harry, Jr./’. “Now strip!” commanded Hermione.
A smile appeared on Harry’s face as he tore off his clothing. Harry stood completely starkers in front of Hermione.
“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to sit next to me,” stated Hermione as she propped herself up on her elbows. “My knees are really shaky from that last one. I’ve never felt an orgasm like that before,” Hermione added and Harry beamed with pride. “What did you do differently? I mean the first time you went down on me was spectacular, but this time… wow!”
“Oh, I just tapped into my love based magic, that’s all,” Harry offered while eagerly awaiting Hermione’s touch.
“You tapped into your love magic?” asked Hermione, an inquisitive look appeared on her face. “But how – ?”
“Questions later,” Harry interrupted. He usually didn’t like to be rude to Hermione but ‘/Harry, Jr./’ desperately wanted to play and then take a nap. “Handjob now!”
“Aren’t we impatient?” Hermione jokingly chided. She sat up and started to move the ‘/special book/’ off of the bed when her eyes caught something on the page that had flopped open when she dropped it during her massive orgasm. By the looks of it, the book had opened to a section near the end, a section that Harry hadn’t read yet. Hermione’s eyes bulged as she scanned the page. “Harry, get me your potion supplies!” she commanded. “I found a ritual which will lead us to the Horcruxes!”
“Bu… but… but…” Harry stammered pathetically. Hermione had promised a handjob, and now she was talking about a ritual. This, Harry thought, was totally unfair.
“It’s a ritual designed to locate missing or hidden items!” Hermione cheered, oblivious to Harry’s predicament. “Hopefully we can use it to find where the Horcruxes are.”
“Bu… but… but…” Harry stammered even more pathetically. This time Hermione looked up into Harry’s dejected face.
“Harry, don’t worry. The ritual requires me to use my hands to stimulate you,” Hermione explained.
“Huh?” asked Harry, he hated it when she used big words, especially when he was focused on the lost opportunity of another handjob.
“Handjob, Harry,” Hermione clarified, knowing that her use of ‘/big words/’ threw Harry for a loop, specifically when he was already distracted. “Now go get your potion supplies.”
Harry gleefully hopped into the air and scampered to retrieve his supplies like a boy on Christmas morning going to fetch his presents. Within seconds Harry had returned with his arms full. He was so happy about Hermione’s promise of a ritual that would have her use her hands to stimulate him that he had forgotten what Hermione had actually requested. He remembered that she had wanted his potion supplies, but he was afraid that she would need something else. So to be on the safe side, Harry not only brought Hermione his potion supplies and cauldron, he also brought along his Herbology supplies, his telescope… and for some odd reason, a pair of his dirty socks.
While muttering “not this, or this,” Hermione discarded Harry’s telescope and herbology supplies. But when Hermione was about to fling the socks away, she paused and rechecked the ingredient list in the book. “That’s strange,” she said to no one in particular. “I do need these.” She then unceremoniously tossed the socks into the cauldron along with several other liquids and powders from Harry’s potion supplies. After stirring the concoction clockwise four times and twirling it twice, Hermione commanded: “Sit on the bed, Harry.”
Harry complied and sat next to Hermione. ‘/Harry, Jr./’ was happily looking up at the ceiling, eagerly waiting for playtime to commence. Hermione slid off of the bed and knelt in-between Harry’s legs. She dipped her hands into the cauldron and began to explain the ritual to Harry.
“While I’m stimulating you, we both have to focus on the object or objects we are searching for,” she explained clinically. Hermione promptly noticed the dazed and stunned expression on Harry’s face and decided to repeat what she had just said so that Harry could understand. “While I’m giving you a handjob, we have to think about the Horcruxes.”
“Oh. Yeah, I knew that,” Harry tried to reply nonchalantly.
“Also we each have to chant an incantation throughout the ritual,” continued Hermione. “Yours is ‘/Ructo// Vermis/’ while I have to chant ‘/Praefoco// Pullus/’.”
“/Ructo// Vermis ,/” Harry repeated.
Hermione took her hands, which were now completely coated with a clear oily liquid, out of the cauldron and began to gently coat Harry’s organ. The liquid was warn and, along with Hermione’s hands working it into Harry’s member, made ‘/Harry, Jr./’ cry just a little more, but this time Harry would have said that they were definitely tears of joy. Hermione started to use both of her hands to stroke Harry’s shaft (mind you, Harry wasn’t ‘/hung like a hippogriff/,’ it’s just that Hermione had tiny hands), and placed her mouth so that her lips were hovering over the crown.
“/Praefoco// Pullus ,/” Hermione began to chant her portion of the spell, her warm breath danced across his crown and Harry closed his eyes and started to chant in counterpoint to her. “/Ructo// Vermis, Ructo Vermis..”/
After Harry repeated his half of the incantation for the third time, he felt the magic pour over his body and he started to feel light-headed. Hermione’s hands started to pump in cadence with her chanting.
“/Praefoco// Pullus, Praefoco Pullus.”/
“/Ructo// Vermis, Ructo Vermis..”/
Then something strange happened; Harry felt as if he had left his body. He could still feel himself chanting while being pleasured, but he also felt as if he was floating. He opened his eyes and noticed that he seemed to be hovering near the ceiling of the room. As an experiment, Harry looked at his hand as he floated near the ceiling and was surprised to see that it was transparent, as if he was a ghost. Harry looked down and saw himself lying on the bed with Hermione wanking him off while they were both chanting.
“This feels weird,” Harry said as he witnessed his corporeal body.
“I know what you mean,” Hermione replied. Harry looked down and saw a ghost-like Hermione hovering below him. She was transparent like he was, but Harry could see as well as feel that she had her hands wrapped around ‘/Harry, Jr./’. Harry marveled at how nice astral-Hermione’s boobs looked. “Harry, are you looking at my breasts?”
“Yes,” Harry replied while not taking his eyes off of her luscious mounds. “Yes I am.”
“Harry stop look at my tits,” Hermione commanded. “We have to find the Horcruxes!”
“It’s really hard thinking about the Horcruxes when you’re holding my willy like that.” Harry complained. “Besides, I like looking at your titties, they’re really nice.”
“Thank you Harry,” said Hermione. Harry couldn’t tell for certain, but he swore that astral-Hermione was blushing at his compliment. “You can thoroughly examine them later.”
“Promise?” asked Harry.
“Yes, I promise,” she answered. “Let’s try and find the Horcruxes.”
After Harry begrudgingly agreed to stop focusing on Hermione’s boobs and focus on Voldemort’s Horcruxes, both Harry and Hermione plummeted toward the floor; actually their astral projections plummeted while their bodies remained where they were. They rapidly fell past floor after floor of the castle. Harry recognized the dungeons and the kitchen as they shot by them before they felt like they were slowing down. Their descent had paused, but where they ended up, Harry couldn’t tell. The couple was in total darkness and was unable to discern where they were.
“What’s going on?” Hermione’s asked. Harry couldn’t see where she was in the darkness, but he could definitely feel her hands still wroking his organ.
“I don’t know,” Harry responded. He heard the sounds of dripping water coming from somewhere nearby. It felt oddly familiar to Harry, and it also felt as if something important was there in the darkness. “Did the ritual work?”
“I hope so,” Hermione replied.
Another second passed in the darkness and suddenly, Harry felt as if they were flying. At first, it felt as if he were passing through the dark and dank air, but then it felt as if he was hurtling through solid rock. After a few seconds of flying through rock, Harry’s spirit began to fly through the early night sky. He could still feel Hermione’s hands on him as he looked behind himself and saw the shrinking castle of Hogwarts as they rocketed away from it. For a full minute, Harry and Hermione flew through the darkening sky when they started to approach a cluster of lights. They dove at the cluster of lights and Harry quickly recognized it as Diagon Alley. Before either one could guess what they were doing there, Harry and Hermione’s spirits passed Diagon Alley and its assorted shops and flew into the infamous Knockturn Alley.
The pair slowed as they neared Borgin & Burkes. Their spirits passed through the shop’s door and saw that Mr. Borgin was speaking to an old and crumpled looking wizard.
“You won’t find a nicer piece anywhere else, I assure you,” Borgin announced as he handed the unknown wizard a simple locket. It was obvious that the two older wizards had no idea that they were being spied upon by Harry and Hermione. For some indiscernible reason, Harry’s attention was drawn to the locket, and it felt like something was telling him that this was one of the items he and Hermione were looking for.
“That’s one of the Horcruxes!” Hermione declared triumphantly.
“Wait,” Harry said as he examined the locket and recognized it from one of the Pensieve memories that Dumbledore had shared with him. “That’s Salazar Slytherin’s locket, the one R. A. B. stole from the cave before we could retrieve it.”
Harry and Hermione watched as the unknown wizard paid Borgin and left the shop with the locket.
“So this R. A. B. bloke nicked Voldemort’s Horcrux and sold it to Borgin?” Harry asked.
“That doesn’t make sense, why would he sell it to Borgin,” answered Hermione. “According to the note he left in the fake locket, he intended to destroy it. He or she probably died before he or she got the chance to do it and the Horcrux somehow ended up here.”
Before they could continue their discussion, Harry and Hermione flew off into the night again. The couple flew for a brief amount of time before descending into London. They rapidly approached a building that Harry recognized; it was the orphanage where Tom Riddle grew up. Harry and Hermione passed through the brick wall of the building and promptly started to go down through the floor. After a second or two of falling through darkness, they ended up in a dimly lit chamber. There was an object that was covered with a black sheet in the middle of the room. It was this object that Harry’s attention was drawn to.
“So, which founder do you think this, whatever it might be, belong to?” Harry asked.
“With the locket and the ring being Slytherin’s, I would have to guess that all the other Horcruxes would be from the other founders; either Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Gryffindor,” replied Hermione.
A moment later, the pair was off again. Their spirits soared across the sky for some time before they once again descended toward the ground. However this time, both Harry and Hermione recognized the building they were headed to. It was the family home of the “Noble and Most Ancient House of Black,” number twelve, Grimmauld Place.
“Why are we here?” asked Harry as they flew through the dark walls and entered the dusty house.
“I don’t know…” began Hermione.
The pair entered the kitchen and stopped when they reached a grimy pile of rags that Kreacher had called his bed before Harry had ordered him to go to Hogwarts. Placed on top of the pile was a golden cup with a badger engraved on one side.
“That must’ve been Hufflepuff’s,” stated Harry. “But why would R. A. B. hide it here…?”
“I am so dense!” Hermione announced. “R. A. B. must have been Regulus Black, Sirius’ brother!’
“Huh?” asked Harry.
“Yes, remember when we were here and had to clean up the place? We found a locket that we couldn’t open. That must’ve been Slytherin’s locket,” Hermione explained. “Regulus must have taken the Horcruxes that he managed to steal and simply hid them here until he could find a way to destroy them. But he was murdered before he could finish the job.”
“And then after Sirius died, Fletcher stole a load of stuff from the house, including one Horcrux, and sold it to Borgin,” Harry concluded, finally catching on to Hermione’s line of thought. “Boy, this Horcrux Hunt is gonna be a lot easier than I thought.”
With that, the couple soared out of Grimmauld Place and into the sky once more. This time, Harry was unable to keep track of where they were heading because the ground below them had turned pitch black, as if there were no towns or homes to give off lights. Soon, they approached an eerie looking keep. They quickly passed through the moldy rocks that made up the walls and entered a dark and clammy throne room. Sitting on an ornately decorated throne was none other than Voldemort. Kneeling in front of the villain was the kidnapped ice-cream maker extraordinaire, Florean Fortescue. The confection creator was trembling in fear as Voldemort sampled a bright orange scoop of ice cream. As Voldemort worked the frozen treat in his mouth, Hermione stated, “And finally, the last Horcrux, Voldemort himself.”
“Ah, very good, Fortescue,” Voldemort announced. “You get to live for another night. Tomorrow, I want ‘Rocky Road,’ but with no fucking marshmallows! I loath marshmallows! Heaven help you if I see one single marshmallow in my ice-cream!”
“But what about Nagini?” asked Harry, trying his best to ignore the villain gorging himself on ice-cream. “Shouldn’t she be one of the Horcruxes?”
“Why?” Hermione asked, her voice sounding a bit perplexed.
“Dumbledore reckoned that the reason Voldemort was able to control her so well was because he had made the snake into one of his Horcruxes,” Harry explained.
“But Voldemort is a Parselmouth, which means he can order the snake around,” Hermione countered. “And when you witnessed Nagini’s attack on Mr. Weasley, Voldemort was actually possessing her at the time. That is why Voldemort has such good control over her.
“Voldemort is obsessed with becoming immortal,” Hermione continued to explain. “He placed fragments of his soul into different items, thereby creating the Horcruxes. This would assure his immortality. We know that when a Horcrux is destroyed, like the diary and ring, that fragment of his soul is destroyed along with it. So why would Voldemort risk putting a piece of his soul in a mortal creature? When the creature dies, so does the fragment of Voldemort’s soul.”
“What if Nagini is like a Basilisk?” Harry retorted. “What if she could live for centuries?”
“She could still get sick and die. A rock could fall on her head and kill her. A larger predator could eat her. Nagini could even starve to death,” Hermione listed. “Dozens of things could happen that could cause a creature’s death. That’s why all the Horcruxes are inanimate objects; things that cannot die. Voldemort would never risk his immortality by creating a Horcrux in a living creature. There are too many unpredictable things that could happen.”
“Oh,” Harry replied simply when he suddenly felt a familiar tug, much like the tug associated with Portkey travel. However, the tugging sensation wasn’t located behind his navel, like Portkey travel, Harry felt the tug come from ‘/Harry, Jr./’ and his luggage.
In the blink of an eye, Harry had returned to his body which was still lying on his bed. The young wizard was breathing heavily and his loins felt as if they had just spent themselves. It was odd, he didn’t feel his orgasm, but he definitely felt the after effects of one. He was about to ask Hermione about it when he saw her face and paused. Harry didn’t need to ask Hermione if he had cummed, he could see it on her face. The whitish goop was slowly dripping down her forehead and in-between her eyes. It looked as if Hermione was deep in thought and she had not yet noticed Harry’s cum upon her face.
“Um, Hermione…” began Harry. He wanted to warn her about the mess on her face, but was trying to find a delicate way of telling her about it. He couldn’t just say ‘/Sorry Hermione, but it looks like I just came on your face/’ now could he? However, Harry’s attention was diverted from Hermione’s predicament when another voice coming from the corner of the room spoke up.
“You know, for beginners, you’re doing pretty well,” the ghost of Gryffindor commented. He was sitting on Neville’s bed and he appeared to be jotting down notes on a spare piece of parchment. “First off, Harry did a bang up job, the way Hermione was gushing, cheers mate. I tell you if Salazar knew he could do that with his haughty ‘/I can talk to snakes/’ thing, he would’ve gotten more arse. Maybe then he wouldn’t have been so bitter.” Gryffindor continued. Both Harry and Hermione were so much in shock that neither one even attempted to cover their naked forms. As a matter of fact, Hermione was so shocked by the ghost’s presence, that she still had her hands around ‘/Harry, Jr./’. “As for you, Hermione, you did fairly well. But there is room for improvement.”
It was this point that Gryffindor showed the two naked and sweaty teens the parchment. The page was full of crude drawings. The drawings were crude both in style (stick figures with overly large circles for boobs and something that looked like a huge cigar for ‘/Harry, Jr./’) and subject matter.
“Hey, that’s a one way exit on me, mister!” Harry shouted upon finally recognizing one particular drawing which showed what he assumed was Hermione’s index finger going into a notorious orifice in Harry’s body.
“C’mon Harry,” Gryffindor argued. “Think of it as a ‘/how’d you do/’.” The ghost decided to illustrate his argument by forming a tight “o” with his thumb and forefinger from his left hand and them promptly shoved his right forefinger into the “o.”
“THAT IS IT!” Hermione shouted. The naked witch shot up and Harry could tell that every muscle in her body was tense with rage.
“Nice shave job there love,” the specter commented as he indicated Hermione’s crotch. “I told you brainy birds are naught-”
“GET THE HELL OUT!” screamed Hermione.
“A-ha!” exclaimed Gryffindor as he waggled a finger at Hermione’s face and the goop that was silently dripping down it. “Next time turn your head, love.”
“What are you talking – ?” Hermione began to demand before she started to violently tear at her right eye. “OH SWEET BABY MAVE! IT BURNS! IT BURNS!”
Obviously Harry’s ejaculate had finally seeped into one of Hermione’s eyes. She continued to howl as she started to frantically look around the room with one eye open. Harry realized she must’ve been looking for something to wash the seminal fluid out of her eye. That is when Harry decided to help her out.
He snatched his wand off of the bedside table and performed a simple Water Jet Charm at Hermione. It was supposed to be a simple charm that caused a gentle stream of water to flow from the tip of the caster’s wand. Unfortunately, in the heat of the moment, Harry had forgotten about his power boost. Instead of a gentle stream of water flowing from Harry’s wand tip, a rather large wave exploded out of it. The wave was at least two feet taller than Harry and not only did it knock Hermione to the floor, it also flooded the room.
“Oh, boy, this isn’t good,” Gryffindor declared and scurried out of the room, obviously afraid of Hermione’s impending wrath. “I’m out of here.”
Hermione slowly pulled herself off of the water covered floor and to her feet. Not only was she completely soaked, but her right eye was puffy and red. She took a calming breath before addressing Harry.
“I think it would be best…” she said slowly, as if she was having difficulty controlling her anger, “… if you leave this room, right now.”
“But this is my room, Hermione,” Harry said stupidly. It was stupid because Hermione felt compelled to repeat her order in a very load voice.
“LEAVE THIS ROOM, RIGHT NOW!” she snapped.
His senses finally returning to him, Harry ran like a bat out of hell out of his room. Harry didn’t stop running until he reached the safety of the Common Room. He reckoned that it would be for the best if he were to just sleep on the couch in front of the fire. It was then that he realized that he didn’t have a sheet to cover himself with, nor did he have any clothes on. He thought about conjuring some items, like some clothes, but he was afraid that because he was still unaccustomed to his power boost, he would end up conjuring a lacy and frilly sleeping gown instead of a pair of boxers. Harry sighed and spoke aloud to no one in particular: “I need some help.”
Soft popping noises alerted Harry to the presence of two house-elves, Kreacher and Dobby. Before Harry could cover his bits, the two elves commented on his nakedness.
“Master Harry Brat is more wrinkly in areas then Kreacher is,” the ancient elf cackled pointing a finger at Harry’s organ.
“I’m not wrinkly!” Harry defended himself against Kreacher’s statement.
“Harry Potter is the Greatest Wizard ever!” Dobby declared as he genuflected. “Far greater than all the Malfoys combined! Dobby had the bad fortune of dressing former masters, so’s Dobby knows what Dobby is talking about”
“I’m greater then Lucius and Draco, combined?” asked Harry to which Dobby replied by energetically nodding his head. He knew he wasn’t small, but he never thought of himself as being huge either. Harry had the decency to cover himself up with both hands before continuing. “Well, that’s good to know,” he took a great amount of masculine pride in the fact that he was more endowed then the entire male portion of the Malfoy family.
“Then again, Master Draccy was only tweelves the last times Dobby dressed him and even Dobby is greater than Master Luscius,” Dobby added. Harry’s masculine pride was suddenly shattered in a thousand pieces, Harry couldn’t imagine that Dobby was well endowed and every twelve year old is under developed. So the fact that Harry was ‘/greater than all the Malfoys combined/’ wasn’t such high praise after all. The guilt ridden House-elf punched himself in the head for insulting his former master before continuing. “Former master never made former mistress happy. Dobby always had to help finish former mistress off when former master fell asleep -”
“Okay stop right there,” Harry blurted out and he held out both of his hands if front of him as if they would shield him from the nasty image of Dobby being… intimate with Narcissa. This action, of course, exposed his bits again.
“Much more wrinkly,” Kreacher added as Dobby bowed once more to ‘/Harry, Jr./’.
“Damnit,” Harry cursed as he dropped his hands to his sides. It was pointless to try and cover himself now. “Listen, my magic’s gone all wonky and I can’t conjure anything. Could you two make me some pajamas and a bed to sleep in, please?”
Kreacher grumbled and snapped his fingers. A humble and somewhat lumpy bed appeared in front of Harry. With Dobby’s snapping fingers, Harry was clothed in a fine set of silk pajamas. Of course the words “/World Greatest Wizard/” were embroidered on the font of his shirt with an arrow underneath pointing to Harry’s crotch.
“Wills yous be needing anything else, Harry Potter sir?” Dobby asked.
“No you two can leave,” said Harry. With two pops, the House elves disappeared. Exhausted from this long and adventurous day, Harry fell asleep the moment his head touched his pillow.
“Harry, it’s time to wake up,” Hermione’s soft voice drew Harry out of his dreamless slumber. He was stunned to see that her right eye was still red and puffy-looking.
“Morning, Hermione,” Harry greeted her as he sat up. “I’m sorry about your eye.”
“It was just an accident,” Hermione began to say. She abruptly stopped speaking when she saw what was written on his shirt. “My, aren’t we confident?”
“Um, err…” Harry stammered, totally embarrassed by his shirt and hurt by Hermione’s statement. Her comment made Harry think that she believed that ‘/Harry, Jr./’ was unworthy of such praise.
“Well, I happen to think you are the greatest,” Hermione cooed as she slipped her petite hand down Harry’s pants and gave a good morning squeeze to ‘/Harry, Jr./’ “Especially down here.”
“Thanks,” Harry said sheepishly and he felt a blush creep into his cheeks.
“We can play later,” Hermione stated and she pulled her hand away from Harry’s member.
“Hey!” protested Harry. “You can’t just squeeze a bloke’s thing and then stop.”
“We have something to discuss,” she said gravely.
“Is it about the Horcruxes?” asked Harry.
“No, something else. Remember when you performed oral sex on me yesterday?” Hermione asked. “I told you it felt different, more intense than the first time you did it. You told me you added your love based power to your Parseltongue magic. That got me thinking and I read the segments in ‘/The Magic of Making Love/’ concerning the two acts you performed on me, using your Parselmouth abilities and ‘Pleasure Pressure Points.’ Well according to the book, the pressure point technique you used on me during the wedding should have only made me feel a little pleasure, not a mind blowing orgasm. I can assume you tapped into you love magic yesterday during the wedding?”
“Yes, I thought you needed to relax a bit,” Harry responded.
“I would like to run a little experiment concerning you love based power,” Hermione said.
Harry’s heart leapt up as well as ‘/Harry, Jr./’ at the notion of Hermione’s experiment.
“Not that type of experiment,” chuckled Hermione noticing Harry’s reaction. “I want you to perform a simple Cheering Charm on me.”
“That’s it? A Cheering Charm?” asked Harry, a little put out. He was hoping for a little romp with Hermione. “Can we do this experiment nude at least?” he asked hopefully.
“No,” Hermione said and stood up. “I want you to perform the Charm like you would normally. But don’t tap into you love core. With your power boost, there should be a fairly powerful reaction on my part.”
Harry got out of the elf-conjured bed and pointed his wand at Hermione.
“Now, wave your wand at me in a half-crescent motion, like the mouth on a smiley face and say ‘/Exhilaro// Hilaro/.’ Remember to put emphasize on the ‘/Roh/’ sound at the end.” Hermione lectured.
Harry followed her instructions and said in a loud and clear voice “/Exhilaro// Hilaro!/”
Harry felt the charm spring from his wand and fly silently at Hermione. A bright and goofy grin appeared on Hermione’s face instantaneously as she stood in front of Harry.
“Good job, Harry!” Hermione announced. She tapped herself on the head with her own wand and said “/Finite/” and the goofy grin was gone. “Now try it again, but focus on your core, focus on loving thoughts.”
It was easy for Harry to do that, he simply recalled how he felt when he blurted out that he loved Hermione at the reception; warm, happy, and complete. He pointed his wand at Hermione once more and said “/Exhilaro// Hilaro!/”
With a loud bang, Hermione was thrown over the couch and out of sight.
“Whoops,” Harry nervously exclaimed. “Hermione?”
To be continued.

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Epilogue: or “Nineteen years Lat—err… I mean /Fifteen/…”
Standard Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all characters are property of J K Rowling, Warner Brothers, Bloomsbury Books, Arthur A. Levine Books, Raincoast Books, Scholastic publishing (et al.) and are used without permission. This work was written purely for noncommercial entertainment; no money is being made.
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!
Epilogue: Look everybody! It’s an epilogue!
Nineteen Years Later…
Wait… what? Nineteen? Why nineteen? Don’t these things happen in even amounts of years like “two,”“ten,” or “twenty”? Or even increments of five years? Why would I go against convention and use an odd number like nineteen? “Oh, look at me; I’m such a rebel. I place my epilogue nineteen years into the future! I’m such a trend setter.”
Who am I to go against convention?
/Fifteen/ years later…
No matter how many times Harry saw the “/new/” Hogwarts, the wizard’s chest would puff up with well-earned pride. Not only had he co-created the unique ritual to rebuild the ruined castle with Hermione thirteen years before, but he and his wife had been one of the dozens of couples that had performed said sex-ritual. He could still remember the scores of two-person tents (and a three-person tent for Seamus, Lavender and Parvati) that circled the ruins and the non-stop peals of pleasure and wet squelching noises that filled the night as the stones flew through the air and rebuilt the ancient castle.
It looked exactly the way it did before it fell. Well, not/exactly/. The Astronomy Tower was significantly taller and thicker than it had been. Also, it had a peculiar, yet/pleasing/ curve to it. And most people described the parapet as being “/crown/” shaped. Hermione believed that the sex-ritual that recreated the castle had inadvertently altered this particular part of the building. In fact, a few muggleborns had stated that the tower now appeared to be a copy of the notorious tower that had been featured in the original poster art for Disney’s “/The Little Mermaid.”/ The thick, creeping vines that crisscrossed the Tower only aided in this comparison.
Another side effect of the sex-ritual that had rebuilt Hogwarts meant the castle and its wards now fed off of any sex act. Seeing that the castle was chockfull of hormonal teenagers wanking, snogging, performing hand-jobs and oral sex, and outright fornicating every single day, the new castle literally throbbed with power. Throbbed/. As he and Hermione walked up the hill to the castle, Harry could actually see the building pulsate – and /throb – particularly the new Astronomy Tower.
Just before the married couple walked through the giant doors of Hogwarts, Harry noticed the black-lace choker around his wife’s neck. The choker was just part of a garment Hermione had donned this morning. The costume was normally used for when the couple would act out a rather fun role-playing game where Hermione was a bad maid who had not dusted properly and therefore deserved a“/punishment/” from Harry. Today, the punishment hadn’t been for improper dusting, but for a cruel, teasing joke the brunette had played.
Harry made a polite coughing sound to attract her attention and pointed at his own neck.
“Oh my, we don’t want to lose this one,” the brunette said instantly realizing what Harry’s gesture meant. She carefully removed the choker and tucked it away in her robe pocket. “/Risqu?aid/” was one of her most favorite games after-all.
As they entered the castle, the sound of hundreds and hundreds of students talking and rushing to class nearly overpowered them. The years that followed the fall of the first Hogwarts Castle and Voldemort’s defeat saw the wizarding population of Britain increase significantly. Year after year the birth rate had shattered the previous year’s record setting number. This massive and continual spike in the population was due to the age of peace that the wizards and witches now experienced thanks to Voldemort’s demise. Or at least that is what the history books claimed. The real reason that the birth rate was rising rapidly each year was due to the fact that every witch and wizard were having copious amounts of sex. And this was directly correlated to the wildly popular Books of Love Magic and its ten volumes (so far). The highest seller to date was Volume Six: Pregnancy and You which had a four month pregnant (with James) “/Mona Puckle”/ and sixth month pregnant(with the twins Harry and Harriet) “Perky ‘The Jugs’ Weatherby” with their respective husbands performing rituals designed to aid in various stages of pregnancy and childbirth, as well as recipes for balms and salves that made stretch marks disappear and physical exercises that helped fight various sagging bits on both partners.
“It looks like they’re going to have to add another wing to the castle just to house the ever-growing student body,” commented Hermione as the couple pushed through the throng of students. The school’s population had tripled twice over since they had taken their NEWTS.
“Maybe we can come up with another ritual to do just that?” suggested Harry, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. “I mean it’s not like we haven’t invested ourselves to the castle before.”
“I’ll work on it tonight,” she said, looking forward to the practice. Trial and error was so much fun when orgasms were included.
The couple made their way to the Hospital Ward where Luna Weasley worked. Thanks to her share of the book profits, the blonde and her husband were reasonably wealthy and didn’t need to work. She did however take the position of Hogwarts’ nurse in order to be close to her children. And Ron took up the position of nurse’s aide for the same reasons – that and easy access to the mid-afternoon shags he had grown to love. As for Harry and Hermione, they too were able to live just as comfortably thanks to their shares of book sales and found things to do in their spare time: Harry was content to be what Muggles called a“/Stay-at-Home-Dad”/ while Hermione, who did more than her fair share in raising their children, spent some of her free time trying to live up to her title of the “/Chosen One”/by striving to give House-Elves equal rights. So far, the best she had been able to accomplish is a Ministry standard three sickle yearly salary and two days off a month. Even though Hermione thought this was unacceptable, the House-Elves were ecstatic over their new freedom. They were so overjoyed by their Savior’s accomplishment that they created over a dozen holidays where they showered the Chosen One with praise and gifts. Ironically enough, these gifts the House-Elves gave her were hand-knitted hats that were strikingly similar to the ones she herself had made in her fifth year in a misguided attempt to free the tiny creatures. One room in their home, the Shrieking Shack (which was still a grandiose mansion on the inside thanks to Harry’s accidentally bout of magic when the couple had first made love), was used strictly to house the thousands upon thousands of hats she had received over the years.
Harry and Hermione found their best friends putting away supplies upon entering the Hospital Ward.
“’Lo, Hermione, Harry, what brings you here?” asked Ron as he helped his wife stock the shelves with ointments, salves and various potions.
Before either could answer, fifteen year old Sirius Lupin, Remus and Tonks’ eldest son, pushed his way into the Ward. He held a blood-soaked cloth to his head.
“What’s the matter, Sirius?” Luna asked.
“Erm… uh…I… er… bumped my head,” he answered lamely. Unlike his father, Sirius was a horrible liar. This un-Marauder like-setback did not stop the young wizard from committing acts of mischief and mayhem.
“Did you happen to bump your head because you were up to no good with the twins?” asked Luna.
“Which ones?” the young boy asked Luna in return. It was clear that Sirius was attempting to distract the adults in the room. “Your twins or Aunt Hermione and Uncle Harry’s twins?”
Knowing that the fifteen year old boy was trying to protect his best friend and obvious cohort with this distraction, Harry asked, “So it was Hyphen then?”
“Yes, Uncle Harry,” Sirius admitted. “We were pranking some Slytherins and I tripped when we made our escape. Hit my head on the steps leading out of the dungeons.”
“And I take it our daughter’s in her dorm room right now devising an alibi for the two of you?” asked Hermione.
“Yes,” he replied.
Harry smiled to himself, imagining Hyphen’s brilliant green eyes sparkling mischievously behind her spectacles, twirling one of her long strands of black, kinky hair which she tended to do when she was up to no good. A part of him was glad to see his fourteen year-old daughter giving Slytherins hell. Of course he’d never mention this to Hermione who always scolded Hyphen and their other children for not supporting Inter-House unity.
Luna gingerly pulled the boy’s hand from his head and said,“Just a scratch and a mild concussion – nothing that a few waves from a wand and a potion won’t fix.”
Once Sirius was healed, Luna shooed the “miracle-boy” away. Like his godfather, Harry, Sirius Lupin had earned an unwanted moniker. The first full moon after his fifth birthday, Sirius changed into a werewolf, just as everyone feared. He had unfortunately inherited the condition from his father. However, Sirius also inherited his mother’s Metamorphmagus abilities. The next full moon, Sirius did not change, much to everyone’s surprise. After a bit of study, it was discovered that after his first painful transformation into a wolf, Sirius unconsciously used his Metamorphmagus ability to cancel out his werewolf transformation. Using this knowledge, several Potion Masters created a cure for Lycanthropy based off of Sirius’ unique ability. Thus, he was heralded as the “miracle-boy.”
Once the four adults were alone, Hermione announced, “I have news,” the brunette was glowing with happiness. “Guess whose expecting again?”
“Another one?” asked Ron disbelievingly.
“You know Harry, ever since he found out I told that little fib, he thinks that I shouldn’t be without child for more than a year at a time.”
After their third child was born, Harry sat down and did the math, so to speak. Their first child, Lily-Fiona Granger-Potter – affectionately called “Hyphen” – was born a little more than nine months and one week after Hermione told him she was pregnant that fateful day. Harry knew Hyphen wasn’t late and doubted that their daughter had already been conceived the day Hermione announced her pregnancy. When confronted, Hermione confessed to her “/delay in the truth/.” In retrospect, Harry should have known it was a lie – Hermione was an absolute pathetic liar after all. In his defense, he had accepted his future wife’s claim simply because he didn’t think she could have ever lied about something so important, especially when their lives were in mortal peril at the time. Even though the lie was for the greater good, allowing Harry to tap completely into his love-core and therefore defeat Voldemort, the wizard was justifiably upset when Hermione confessed. After along, drawn out argument, and as a form of “/penance,”/Hermione baked Harry a pie (or rather, she asked Dobby – their employed house-elf – to bake Harry a pie) and then performed fellatio on her husband while he enjoyed his pastry treat. This led to the two shagging on the kitchen table while their three kids took their afternoon kip, which led to Hermione becoming pregnant again with the twins Eric and Lacy. It quickly became a joke that Harry had knocked up Hermione on a regular basis as a form of punishment for her “/delay in the truth/.” This couldn’t be further from the truth – the couple had always intended on having a large family.
“What will this make? Nine sprogs? Hell, I’m a Weasley and I don’t have that many,” the red head commented.
“But you’re not living up to the Weasley name, are you? If Molly didn’t have so many grandchildren from your brothers and sister, I’m certain she’d berate you daily for only having four. Bill and Fleur have six. Fred and George each have five. Percy, with his five ex-wives, has a total of eight. Even Charlie, who’s gay, has seven kids. But Ginny and Neville are obviously trying to make up for your lack of children with their eleven,” Hermione pointed out.
“That’s only because Neville and that enormous penis of his ejaculates directly into Ginny’s womb each time they make love,” Luna said. “They have to realize that no magical form of anti-conception will work with them.”
“Yeah, let’s just hope he takes my advice and pulls out from now on,” Harry chuckled. “Or at least buy some Muggle-condoms.”
“So, number nine, huh,” Ron said, returning to his friend’s happy news. “You’re going to run out of names you know.”
“Well I suggested we name the baby after Snape,” Hermione said. She smiled at the scowl that marred her husband’s face.
“I take it that didn’t go over well?” asked Luna.
“No,” Harry said, flatly.
“To say the least,” snorted Hermione. “After I used the Defebulator Charm to revive him and told him it was ajoke, Harry gave me a sound paddling. Of course I was hoping for a spanking, so I think it worked out rather well for me.”
“Were you two were playing ‘The Lady and the Pauper’or ‘/Snarky Schoolgirl’/?” asked Ron.
“No, it was the ‘/Risqu?aid’ /this time. In fact, the maid-choker’s in her pocket right now,” Harry replied. “And just to clarify; there’s no paddling in ‘/The Lady and the Pauper’/scenario. You’re thinking of ‘King Harry and the Duchess of Canterbury’ ‘A Long, Cold Night in January’ or ‘The Babysitter’s Reward.’”
“Ah, my mistake,” the red-head said with a smile. “I’ll try to keep them straight.”
“And what did you do to celebrate the great news of another baby?” the blonde asked, already knowing the answer.
“Another sound paddling,” Hermione said with a rosy bloom. Even though Luna could not see them to confirm, she was positive the bloom on her cheeks matched the ruby hue on the brunette’s other set of cheeks thanks to two consecutive spanking sessions.
“Well, we’ll just have to celebrate won’t we?” Ron said.
“What should we celebrate? The fact that Hermione’s still a kinky witch or that she and Harry are going to have another child?” asked Luna playfully.
“We can celebrate both as far as I’m concerned,” replied Harry, overjoyed to have another child on the way and deliriously happy that his wife was still so adventurous.
“We’ve reserved a table at The Three Broomsticks for us and our kids,” Hermione said to her friends.
“Great, we can say hi to Hannah Abbott ,” said Ron.
“No, Ronald, Hannah owns the Leaky Cauldron,” Luna corrected. “Katie Bell is the owner of The Three Broomsticks.”
“That’s right. I don’t know why I get those two confused.”
As the two couples left the Hospital Ward, Ron said with a guffaw;“Wow, the ten Potters and six Weasleys, that’s going to one big table.”
“Ow,” exclaimed Harry suddenly.
“What is it dear?” asked Hermione.
“Some damn insect just bit my scar.”
The End
Ending Notes: First and foremost, I’d like to thank my beta, Sasqch for his diligent work. I’d also like to thank Steven Moffat whose creation, “/Coupling,/” I pilfered many of my jokes from. Thanks to Joanne Rowling whose many contradictions, plot holes, dropped plot points, retroactive changes in regards to previously published books, and the blatant character assassinations(of both her creations and her fans) made “Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor” possible. More thanks go out to Ultimate Auror and Brainy Bird who helped with numerous ideas and suggestions.
Most of all, many thanks to all who have read and reviewed. You guys rock.

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Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor
Chapter Thirty Two: Book Signings and Doe Signs
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 stands for 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 Two: The book goes on sale under a cloud of protest and Harry follows the doe.
The silver doe trotted slowly to the door Harry and Hermione had just entered. Once in the hall, the doe-shaped Patronus shook her head in a way that gave Harry the impression that it wanted him to follow.
Clearly thinking the same thing, Hermione made to follow, but Harry quickly took hold of her arm.
“It might be a trap,” stated Harry suspiciously, looking at the silvery doe.
“Harry, it’s a Patronus; a witch or wizard needs to focus on happy thoughts in order to be able to cast it,” argued Hermione while the doe in question waited in the hall. “That means whoever created this had to have happy thoughts and therefore won’t kill you.”
“Voldemort is a sadist. To him, happy thoughts include torture and murder,” countered Harry. Knowing that Hermione would press the issue, Harry decided to distract her from the doe. The wizard let go of Hermione’s arm and walked to the cupboard at the back of their room.
“Harry, this might be very important,” urged Hermione, just as Harry had predicted. “Whoever sent this must have something vitally important to tell us.”
“But, I made a promise earlier and I can’t go back on a promise,” he said vaguely, opening the door to the cupboard.
“Who did you make a promise to?” the brunette witch asked as Harry reached into the storage compartment.
“This fella,” he replied and boldly held up Hermione’s wooden paddle. Her eyes, sparkling and wide, stared adoringly at the wooden tool. Turning it in his hand slowly so that his lover could see every part of it, Harry continued; “I told this little guy that he was going to get to play with your bottom. Now, if we go follow this Patronus, not only is there a possibility that we might be walking straight into a trap, but this poor little paddle won’t get the chance to whack your bare bum. And that would make the paddle sad.” Harry cradled the toy to his chest and added playfully, “We don’t want to hurt the paddle’s feelings, do we?”
Hermione spun around and, addressing the doe, spoke rapidly; “I’m sorry, but we’re very busy. Come back some other time.” She slammed the door with a resounding crash.
“That’s my girl,”Harry said affectionately. “Now let’s get you ready.”
With a twirl of his wand, a pair of fur-lined cuffs flew out of the cupboard and soared toward Hermione. The young, and overly kinky, witch squealed happily as the cuffs bound one of her wrists and pulled it behind her back. With another willing squeal, Hermione placed her free hand behind her back and smiled brightly when the cuff closed around this hand as well.
“Shame on you, Miss Granger,” Harry scolded. “You didn’t take the time to get undressed.”
“But you cuffed me before I could strip,” she protested.
“Are you giving me lip?”
“If it means I’ll get a good, long paddling as punishment, then hell yes I’m giving you lip,” she said proudly.
“Such an improper attitude, Miss Granger. I fear that I must beat such behavior out of you. You force my hand, young lady,” Harry said, slapping the paddle against his own hand for effect.
“O-oh,” purred Hermione. “If I were wearing knickers, they’d be soaking wet right now.”
“Really? I must be getting better at this dirty-talking stuff,” Harry said with an earnest smile.
“Yes, you’re splendid,” cheered Hermione. “Now get me out of these clothes!”
With a flick of his wand, all of Hermione’s clothes vanished with a pop. Instantly, Harry saw the light glisten off of Hermione’s bald feline. At first, Harry was going to make a comment regarding the truth of Hermione’s statement about wet knickers. But our hero decided to give his lover a treat and scolded “What a perverted witch you are! You’re wet, just like a common strumpet!”
“Oh, God yes!” she breathed out and her whole body flushed.
“Bend over the arm of that couch!” demanded Harry.
Giggling, Hermione trotted over to the couch and promptly threw herself over the arm, effectively sticking her bare arse up in the air, presenting it to her lover. Harry placed the paddle on the table in front of the couch and began massaging Hermione’s lovely cheeks. Once her bum was ready, meaning that an ample amount of blood was flowing through its fleshy goodness, Harry retrieved the paddle.
For the next twenty minutes, give or take a minute, Harry delivered blow after blow to his lover’s naked bottom. With the expertise that comes with time and practice, Harry skillfully paddled, smacked, and whacked Hermione’s twin orbs. At one point, the paddle became a blur of motion. This action turned Hermione’s bum into a convincing interpretation of the sea during a storm. Her now red flesh rippled and waved and her cheeks slapped together, causing even more ripples. For a while, Harry smacked Hermione’s right cheek with the paddle, which was in his right hand, and slapped her left with his bare left hand. This caused her two cheeks to slap together and illicit happy sounds and screams from Hermione. Occasionally, the young wizard paused in his /”loving attack” /and massaged her rump. Not only did he do this to give the brunette pleasure, but he also did this to aid in the blood flow in the region to heighten her experience.
When all was said and done, or rather when Harry’s wrist became sore, Hermione’s bottom had taken on the appearance of a polished ruby, just the way she liked it. Harry was even able to see his blurred reflection in her nearly glowing skin. The pink nub of the bum-plug – still stuffed firmly up her happily assaulted backside -stood out in contrast to this ruby color. And, much like her bottom, Hermione’s flower was engorged and fiery red, shining with her love juices.
“Shag me, Harry,”Hermione commanded with a growl.
The dark haired wizard placed his hand on Hermione’s enflamed bottom and squeezed it. The witch’s breath hitched. Still squeezing, Harry said “Tell me I can do anything I want to you.”
The brunette licked her lips hungrily and responded, “/’Anything’ /within reason.”
This was unacceptable to Harry. It wasn’t like he was going to do something inappropriate, just dirty – something really dirty actually. He knew that Hermione was aware of this and had most likely amended his command to toy with him. So, to play along with his lover, Harry took a firm hold of Hermione’s other cheek. His fingers dug in slightly into her tender, sensitive orbs as he gently pushed and pulled them apart.
“A-ah-a,” Hermione groaned out. “If you promise to make it rough, you can do anything you like!”
“‘Make it rough?'” he asked rhetorically. “My goodness, woman, I just spanked your bum for twenty minutes and you want me to make it ‘rough?'”
“Actually, it was eighteen minutes and forty-three seconds,” corrected Hermione. “I can see the clock from this position.”
“I really do have a kinky girlfriend,” commented Harry, repositioning himself over the witch in question.
“And I want dirty talk, as well,” the brunette called for, wrapping her legs around Harry.
Before Harry even pushed into Hermione’s flower, he started out by tugging and tweaking on his lover’s nipples while saying such things as “My, you’re a naughty, wicked little girl,” “Moan for /’Harry, Jr.'” /and “Dirty girls like a cock in their soppy cunny” this comment coincided – or arguably, caused – an orgasm for Hermione. The brunette added her own dirty comments to the mix; “Pound ‘Miss Nibbles’ with /’Harry, Jr.’.” /and “Make my pussy drip.”
After much nipple tugging and tweaking, labia pinches, a plethora of rather foul words, hair tugging by both parties, pulling out the bum-plug and reinserting it twice and a handful of “SWEET BABY MAEVE”‘s, Harry felt his climax approaching quickly. In a rapid motion, Harry jumped up and stood so that /’Harry, Jr.’ /was hovering over Hermione’s face. Hermione, being the kinky girl she was, immediately opened her mouth, obviously thinking that was what Harry wanted.
“No, no, close your mouth,” Harry said while giving himself a ‘firm handshake.’ “And you’ll want to close your eyes, too.”
“What are you doing?” she asked, her eyes fixed on the spongy crown bouncing in front of her nose. Harry was fairly certain that Hermione knew what he was about to do, she just wanted to hear him say it.
“I’m gonna cum on your face,” he pointed out, pumping away with his fist. “Remember; you said I could do anything I wanted.”
The moment before Hermione closed her eyes, Harry saw a familiar naughty twinkle in her eyes. With a grunt, Harry launched the first stream of sticky fun. Hermione flinched, but kept her face in place as the ejaculate splashed across her nose and cheeks. The second burst landed on her chin while the third arched so high that most of it fell on her forehead and hairline. Feeling particularly kinky himself, Harry continued to pump and squeeze, causing little droplets of warm spunk to land on Hermione’s chin, lips, and nose – the latter of which he had been aiming at for the entire time. And Harry’s kinkiness didn’t stop when he was empty, no, after he was good and dry, he used his still hard organ as a makeshift meaty paintbrush and smeared his discharge all over her face.
While Harry caught his breath, Hermione requested “Fetch me a towel so I can get this stuff off.”
“No,” he answered. “You’re going to wear it while I rub some /’Bruise-be-Gone’ /ointment on your bottom because you’re a naughty girl and you like it like that.”
With her eyes still firmly shut, Hermione seemed to ponder over Harry’s statement for a moment. Then the brunette parted her lips and ran her tongue along her messy lips before answering, “You know me so well.”
A short while later, as Harry applied the second dose of /’Bruise-be-Gone,’ /which took a goodly amount of rubbing – much to Harry and Hermione’s shared pleasure, the brunette brought up a new topic.
“I think whoever cast that Patronus had some kind of affectionate connection to your father,” she said with a smile that cracked her now-dried sperm facial mask.
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, your Patronus is a stag, the animagus form your father took. Your subconscious must have remembered that your father could turn into a stag and thereby affected the shape your Patronus takes,” Hermione began. “Basically, whenever you cast your Patronus, your loving thoughts take the form of your father.
“And we know that Tonks’ Patronus changed to a wolf when she fell in love with Remus, clearly representative of him,” she added. “So it’s a logical deduction that the form the caster’s Patronus takes is representative of their affection.”
“And since my dad was a stag animagus that means whoever cast that doe Patronus had feelings for my dad,” summarized Harry.
“Exactly, the doe is the feminine counterpart to the stag,” Hermione stated. “It’s safe to argue then that this person is an old flame of James. Perhaps a witch he dated before he began dating your mother.”
Harry thought about this theory for a moment. Had the witch who cast the doe Patronus wanted to lure Harry into a trap like he had assumed previously? If the witch had affection for his father, this was not likely. But then again, if Harry had followed the doe, then he wouldn’t have been able to make love to his sweet Hermione. The memory of the recent shag added with the constant bum rubbing had piqued ‘Harry, Jr.’s interest once more.
“Well, we’ll deal with whoever cast it later. There are more pressing issues at hand,” Harry said.
“Like what?”
“All this bottom massaging has gotten me hard again.”
“Tell you what, pop that plug out and you can bugger me in the shower,” offered Hermione, happily.
“Oh, you make it sound so romantic,” said Harry, wrapping his fingers around the nub-handle of the plug, eager for the promised shared naughty shower.
SoG SoG SoG
The next morning, Harry walked into the Great Hall for breakfast with Hermione and her seemingly ever present limp following close behind.
“Muff grr dit grr,”Ron “said” with his mouth full of partially chewed food.
“Ronald said ‘You won’t like this,'” Luna translated, handing Harry and Hermione the Daily Prophet. The front page had a picture of an elderly witch with a mean frown. It read:
“Public outcry over ‘foul and disgusting book!’
A new book, sold exclusively at Franklins of Cardiff, entitled Books of Love Magic: Volume One has created uproar from a concerned group of citizens.
Mary Swan-Cummings-Smith-Marshal-McGuffin along with her group, Proper Behavior Now, has launched a boycott campaign against the book written by newcomers Puckle, Hunter, Gaiman, and Weatherby. The book, which depicts sex-based magic for everyday use including but not limited to home defense, offends Miss Swan-Cummings-Smith-Marshal-McGuffin.
“Such a foul thing!” she told this reporter. “It encourages debasing behavior!”
In order to be fair in his coverage, this reporter received two advanced copies of Books of Love Magic: Volume One. One was given to Mrs. Banon Asgre, a certified Ward Master who is employed by the Ministry, while I retained the other in order to see if the spells and rituals listed work.
After much, much, study with his wife, this reporter can’t tell the reader if the spells are effective. But I can tell you that they are a hell of a lot of fun to perform! Our favorite is the “Degnoming Ritual.”
Mrs. Asgre reported that the wards are simple to cast and are highly effective; “I couldn’t do ’em better myself. Some of the wards that are in this book would take months to cast, if done conventionally. But I was able to erect a near perfect Anti-Harm ward in a matter of an hour. I’m thinking about using the rituals in Books of Love Magic: Volume One to reinforce a number of the wards around the Ministry building.” She also went on to add that the actual rituals are fun to perform and that she’d perform them time and time again, much like this reporter had. “Me and my hubby performed the Anti-Apparation Ward twice yesterday, just for the fun of it. And we’ve performed the one which dusts and straightens pictures more times than I can count. I tell you, we haven’t had this much fun in months!”
“Every time someone has sex for purposes other than propagating children, they are befouling themselves!” Miss Swan-Cummings-Smith-Marshal-McGuffin, who proudly boasts to have never been married, states.
When this reporter pointed out the benefits of the rituals listed in the book and how it could possibly save a family from a Death Eater attack, Miss Swan-Cummings-Smith-Marshal-McGuffin boldly declared, “I’d rather have my entire family – if I had one – slowly killed right in front of me than to lower myself by performing these foul so-called rituals.”
Miss Swan-Cummings-Smith-Marshal-McGuffin and her group, Proper Behavior Now! – which is fifty witches and wizards strong, plan on holding a protest outside of Franklin’s of Cardiff in Diagon Alley this Saturday when Books of Love Magic: Volume One will be available for sale to the public.”
The next article’s headline of “Eccentric Collector Loses Everything in Fire” seem even more depressing, so Harry placed the paper back on the table.
Hermione sighed and said, “Well, at least the reporter and the Ward Builder approve of our book.”
“Is there anything else in the paper about the book?” Harry asked. “Any advertisements or other articles?”
“Not a one,” Luna answered.
“What the hell? Fred and George are supposed to be promoting it,” Harry said bitterly. “They haven’t done a thing and now we’ve got a group who wants to boycott it.”
“Well, they better do something good to counter Proper Behavior Now,” added Hermione, clearly upset over this development.
“I wonder how much this will hurt the book’s sales,” pondered Ron aloud. “It would’ve been nice to see some gold from it.”
“I really don’t care about the money,” interjected Harry. “We made it so that people wouldn’t live in fear and have a spot of fun. And now this bint with the multiple names-”
“Swan-Cummings-Smith-Marshal-McGuffin,”offered Luna.
“Yeah, her. She’s trying her best to make sure people won’t buy it, much less read it,” concluded Harry.
SoG SoG SoG
After lessons were over for the day, Hermione headed off to the library alone.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with?” asked Harry. He was concerned; Hermione was still upset over the Prophet article. He was upset as well; the young wizard had hoped that the book could help people not live in fear. But that damn group was boycotting it!
“You know how studying helps me out,” she had answered. “I’m just going to browse the stacks to keep my mind off of that dreadful woman Swan.”
“Swan-Cummings-Smith-Marshal-McGuffin,”corrected Harry in his best Luna impression.
“Let’s just call her ‘Prudish Bitch’ for short,” said Hermione. The brunette gave Harry a quick kiss and said, “Why don’t you hang out with Ron for a bit. Or maybe go to the Quidditch pitch and take your Firebolt for a spin. You haven’t done that for a while.”
“That’d be brilliant,” Harry said, earnestly. Out of the two suggestions, flying sounded best to the young wizard. Not only would it be relaxing, but the other option- spending time with Ron – was moot. Knowing the red haired wizard and his wife, the couple was probably busy shagging like a pair of hyperactive rabbits after winning a raw oyster eating contest.
So the two lovers parted: Hermione went to her beloved library and Harry went to their room to fetch his equally cherished Firebolt. Within minutes, Harry was soaring through the air above the Quidditch Pitch.
The air whipped through his black hair and Harry’s worries were left on the ground. That foul witch, Swan-Cummings-Smith-Marshal-McGuffin, and her activist group were all but forgotten. The stress and pressure of locating Voldemort’s last Horcrux was a distant worry. Flying was the second best thing Harry liked doing; the first being Hermione of course. The Firebolt was neat and all, but it was lousy at giving hummers. Not that Harry ever tried… okay, it was just once and it had been during one of Wood’s grueling day-long training session. The vibration of the broomstick between his legs caused nature to take over – well- let’s just say Hermione’s version of a hummer is far more entertaining – and less bruising.
An hour or so later, as Harry circled the tallest goal post, he saw Hermione walking toward the pitch. Even from this height, he could see the happy smile, glowing on her face. Learning really did make her happy. Perhaps he’d go down on her while she read a book again. That way, she’d be pleased on two levels.
Harry touched down lightly next to his lover and said “Are you feeling any better?”
“Yes, it helped keep my mind off of that dreadful woman,” she replied.
“You mean Swan-Cummings-Smith-Marshal-McGuffin?”
“I thought we agreed to call her Prudish Bitch from now on.”
“Oh, right, I forgot,” Harry said, smiling.
“Are you going to ask me what I read up on?” Hermione asked, with a smile of her own.
“That would be pointless, wouldn’t it? I know by that look you’re about to tell me whether I ask or not,” he pointed out playfully.
“Yes, I am,”Hermione said, unabashedly. “I read up on Light Magic Charms.”
“You mean charms that make things weigh less or ones that illuminate a dark room?” he asked, knowing full well that wasn’t the case.
Ignoring Harry’s attempt at making the subject light – err, /humorous/, Hermione explained;”The Patronus Charm needs completely pure emotions to fuel it. The caster must feel pure happiness or pure love, not a corruption of such emotions. In other words, if the caster was a sadist and was focusing on his victim’s pain for his happiness – basically the definition of a sadist – the charm wouldn’t work. Even though the thought of another person’s pain would give the sadist a thrill, the emotion is tainted and isn’t pure.”
“So that means whoever cast the doe Patronus wasn’t evil,” he summarized.
“More than likely, yes,” Hermione stated. “With that in mind, I did some more research on Dark and Light magics.
“Basically, much like the Patronus needs pure, positive emotions, the Unforgivables, in particular the Cruciatus and the Killing Curse, need pure hate to cast,”Hermione explained. “What Bellatrix told you when you tried to cast the Cruciatus was true. You have to want it, deep down.
“Walden Smith, in his book ‘Dark Arts: Friend or Fiend,’ stated that sadists have an easier time casting the Unforgivables,” she continued. “They enjoy others’ suffering and the thought of this pain helps to fuel the curse.”
“That makes sense,” Harry said. “But haven’t we discussed this before?”
“Yes, and we’re discussing it more,” the brunette said. “And now I’d like to tie this discussion in with the prophesy.”
“Um, how can you draw a connection between the two?”
“Easy; ‘the power he knows not,'” stated Hermione.
“Is love,” Harry offered.
“True, but since you and Voldemort are equals but opposite, we can also assume that the power you know not is hate while it’s Voldemort’s power core. Much like yours is love,” Hermione speculated.
“Oh, I know hate,”Harry said with a less than bemused chuckle, thinking about the Dursleys, Umbridge, Bellatrix, and Voldemort. Just the mere thought of these people made they young wizard angry.
“But not pure hate, not like Voldemort,” Hermione returned. “You know compassion, an alien concept to Voldemort. And this compassion is always there, even when you hate someone. Unlike Voldemort whose hate and anger is completely encompassing.”
“Okay, what’s your point?”
“I’m getting to it,” she said with a huff. “Remember the time Voldemort possessed you in the Ministry building? You said that he felt unbearable pain when you had loving memories about Sirius. That sense of love actually hurt him so much that it drove him out. If you think about it, the exact same thing happened to you when you see into Voldemort’s mind. You felt unbearable pain whenever he cast the Cruciatus and Killing Curses while you were connected to him. I believe what really hurt you was the pure hate that Voldemort tapped into in order to cast those curses. He focused on his hate and that hurt you, much like your love hurt him.”
“How does this help me, really?” he asked. “Am I to follow Ron’s joking suggestion of hugging Voldemort to death?”
“No, cast a Patronus at him,” she said as if the answer was painfully obvious.
“Hermione, you do know he’s not a Dementor, right?” he asked with just a hint, a tiny suggestion, of sarcasm. “Because if you don’t, I can draw you a picture of Voldemort and Dementor and show you the differences between the two.”
“Ha ha, very funny,” she return with her own heaping teaspoon of sarcasm. Adopting a more serious tone, Hermione forged ahead; “The Patronus Charm is pure happiness. And, in your case, can be pure love. If you hit Voldemort with your Patronus, it will do damage simply because it is the embodiment of the power he knows not.”
“Are you sure?” Harry asked as a silly image of his Patronus stag charging at the most feared wizard of their time played out in his head.
“It’ll have to be more powerful than anything you’ve done before,” she said. “You’ll have to tap further into your love core than you ever have.”
“I’d much rather drop a very large rock on his head.”
“I’m certain my theory is correct,” she reinforced.
“Yes, but a very large rock crushing his skull isn’t a theory that would need to be tested,”argued Harry.
“I’m serious, Harry,” the brunette protested.
“So am I,” he said calmly. “You said it yourself; it’s a theory. The only way to test this theory is to cast a super-Patronus at Voldemort. And he isn’t a sporting fellow; he won’t just stand still while we put your theory to test. He’ll be throwing Killing Curses at us.”
“My logic and reasoning is sound,” she pressed.
“I’m sure it is,”he said. “But there is a chance that it might not work. And that chance could get someone hurt. I’d much rather use a proven method of killing Voldemort. Like, for example, a very large rock colliding with his skull at high speeds.”
Hermione hung her head and said, “I suppose you’re right.”
“Hey, at least your suggestion how to kill Voldemort made more sense than Ron’s,” offered Harry. “And not just the hugging one, but the time he went on and on about the Expelliarmus and the fictitious super-wand.”
A smile grace Hermione as she added; “Who in the world would come up with such an implausible attack like Expelliarmus to defeat Voldemort, super-wand or not?”
“You see, yours was based on logic, not some wild flight of fancy from the ethers of illogical so-called reasoning,” said Harry. He wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her against his body. While rubbing the small of her back, he whispered in her ear, “How about you fetch one of your favorite books, or even a book you’d like to read but haven’t.”
“Why?” she asked. Clearly recognizing the lustful look in his eyes, she inquired; “What do you have in mind?”
“Oh, I just want to combine two of your loves,” he answered, “reading and cunnilingus.”
“I have the perfect book in mind!” she cheered.
“You do? Is it a favorite or something?”
“No, but if you’re licking my bits, I’ll find ‘Ministry Regulations and Codes for Cauldron Bottoms, Vol. 171-A by Percy Ignatius Weasley’ absolutely fascinating!”
“Orgasms make everything more enjoyable?”
“Oh, yes, definitely!” she said, smiling.
SoG SoG SoG
The day finally arrived; today was the day Books of Love Magic: Volume One would go on sale to the public. Harry, Hermione, Ron and Luna assembled outside the Headmistress’ office.
“You ready?” Harry asked Ron and Luna.
“I don’t see why we’re bothering to go,” the gangly wizard replied. “That crazy bird with the long name has frightened everyone away.”
“If it helps, Hermione and I refer to her as the Prudish Bitch,” offered Harry.
“Oh, that’s easier to say than Swan-Cummings-Smith-Marshal-McGuffin,” Luna said in her sing-song voice, “much more efficient use of time.”
“Let’s just hope a few people will be brave enough to push through the Prudish Bitch’s picket line,” Hermione said, disappointed over the predicament.
The four marched into McGonagall’s office and took the floo to the Leaky Cauldron. With their heads hanging low in defeat already, the two couples walked to Franklin’s of Cardiff. What they found there surprised them.
The Prudish Bitch, wearing the same disapproving frown she had for the photo on the front page, was there with her group of protesters, but they were not fifty strong as the /Prophet/article has said – there were a little over twenty witches and wizards holding signs that renounced the book and its depravity. But the truly shocking sight was the line of people waiting to get into Franklin’s. It was so long that it wrapped around the corner, down the block, and around the other corner.
“Blimey, that’s a lot of people,” Ron exclaimed.
“One hundred and eighty seven people!” announced Hermione excitedly.
“You counted?”Harry asked and then promptly answered his own question. “Of course you did. You’re Hermione after all.”
“I counted as well and Hermione’s number is correct, in case you were curious,” offered Luna.
As they approached the front door of the lingerie and sex shop, the cries and shouts of the protesters filled Harry’s ears.
“Degenerates!”
“You’re supporting foul behavior!”
“Nasty, disreputable acts of depravity!”
Harry took in the signs the protesters held.
“Your Flith!”
“Nastie Bugers!”
“Propor Behaveor/NOW//!”/
“Is it me, or do all protest signs have to be misspelled?” Harry asked rhetorically.
“And don’t forget about the bad grammar,” Luna added. “/’Your’ is possessive which makes that sign mean something completely different. It’s like they’re offering to give you back /’Your Flith’ /because they’ve been holding onto it for you. Whatever /’flith’ is.”
Hermione, who would normally have been the one to point out the assault against the English language, was far too overjoyed by the turnout to have cared. The brunette was making high pitched squealing sounds, ones that would conceivably make dogs bark up to a mile away.
“I thought for sure no one would show up thanks to the Prudish Bitch,” Ron stated.
Then, the witch Harry recognized as the Prudish Bitch in question broke off from the group and in a limping lumber, staggered to Harry and his friends.
“Saying such nasty things about people behind their backs will get you warts,” the old and haggard witch warned Ron. The witch turned and looked at Harry with her milky-blue eyes and pointed one of her boney fingers at him, saying “So, how do you like the turn out? Does it meet your expectations?”
Before Harry could ask the witch what she was on about, a wizard of around thirty trotted up and, looking at the line of people waiting to go into Franklin’s, asked “What’s this all about?”
“We’re protesting filth and immoral actions!” the elderly witch announced angrily. “That filthy book will be the downfall of this noble nation! The downfall, I tell you! DOWNFALL!” she screamed.
“Wait, that book on sex magic that was in the Prophet the other day is on sale? Brilliant!” the wizard said with a cheer. “I have to get one! Where’s the end of the queue?”
“‘Round that corner, down a bit, and ’round another corner,” the elderly witch answered in an oddly helpful and sweet manner. “There’s a downright handsome bloke with red hair who’s selling refreshments to the people already waiting.”
“Cheers,” the wizard said and trotted off to join the queue.
The old witch turned back to Harry and said with a happy lilt to her cracking voice, “There’s no press like bad press. Controversies always draw a crowd.”
“Excuse me?”Hermione asked.
“It’s the best and cheapest advertising you can get. The newspapers are more than happy to write stories dealing with controversies, because it gets the attention of the public. And the public, being the curious buggers they are, are drawn to the controversy like moths to a flame,” the witch continued. “And best of all, we didn’t have to spend a knut. All of this,” she said, gesturing to the long queue of people, “was for free.”
“Wait… Fred?”Harry asked, staring in disbelief at the old witch.
“George actually, Fred’s the one selling refreshments to the people waiting in the queue,” she, or rather he answered. “I’m wearing an improved version of Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes/ ‘Hag in a Bag.'”/
“You’re the Prudish Bitch?” Hermione asked in shock.
“Funny; Fred and Iwere thinking about naming her that, but we didn’t think the /Prophet/would print it,” George said in the old witch’s voice. “So we settled on Mary Swan-Cummings-Smith-Marshal-McGuffin. Nothing sounds more frigid than an overly hyphenated name.”
“You created an activist group to protest our book?” asked Harry, hotly.
“Yes,” he replied.
“Why?” demanded Harry.
“Nothing piques the public’s interest like a good controversy,” George explained.
“Who are these people?” Hermione asked, indicating the group of protesters.
“When I gave that interview to the /Prophet/, we didn’t have a group called Proper Behavior Now. Not a single member besides myself,” George explained. “But this lot read the article and showed up today with signs so I put them to work.”
“So these people are actually protesting our book?” asked Harry as he observed the group as they chanted “We don’t want filth!”
“Yeah, they, like the folks in the queue, are attracted to controversy,” George said. “Happens all the time, really.”
“Are you saying you planned all of this?” demanded Hermione. “You created a false character, a false group, a false protest, just to generate publicity for our book?”
“I thought you were the smartest witch of our generation,” George shot back in his usual playful manner. “Yes, I did. And it is working wonders. When I got here this morning, there were already fifty or sixty people waiting for the shop to open so they could buy the book. Each and every one of them read the /Prophet/article. Then, as we started to protest, more and more people came. Some came because of the article. Others came because of the racket the protesters were making.”
Harry and his friends watched as more and more people walked up to the protesters or the people in the queue to ask them what the hullabaloo was all about, only to join the queue themselves. In a handful of minutes, Harry saw no less than fifteen people inquire and then join the queue.
“I can’t believe people are this easily led,” stated Hermione.
“Some people are nothing more than cattle, my dear,” George said with pride. “And being a businessman, I love them for it.”
SoG SoG SoG
By midday, Hermione, who had been keeping track of how many people were entering the shop, came to the conclusion that they would need to print more books. So the four friends popped over to Luna’s home and quickly printed out another batch of books. Well, actually, Ron and Luna printed the books. The moment the first book popped out of the printing machine, Hermione dragged Harry to one of the house’s bedroom and promptly shagged him.
A few hours later- and two “quickies” for Harry and Hermione – the four friends returned to Franklin’s with several hundred books floating behind them. In order to conceal their identities, they all wore their robes’ hoods high, to cover their faces as the entered the crowded shop.
Alas, their efforts at keeping their identities were all but shatter when Alicia saw them. Well, for Harry at least.
“Oh, thank God you’re here, Harry!” exclaimed Alicia. Thankfully, she didn’t mention Harry’s surname. “I just sold out five minutes ago and I was afraid I’d have a riot on my hands.”
The moment the books were set on the ground, the witches and wizards gathered in the shop descended like locus. In a matter of seconds, several dozen books were sold.
“Perhaps we should print more books?” suggested Luna as the stacks of books they had just bought steadily and rapidly shrank.
Harry turned to Hermione, and just as he had expected, the brunette had a lustful burning in her eyes. Just the mere thought of printing more books had turned her on.
“How about we pop back to Hogwarts first so I can pick up some virility potions,” Harry said. “Otherwise I doubt I’ll be able to keep up with the printer.”
SoG SoG SoG
The next morning’s/Prophet/ declared in big, bold letters:
“Sales Records Smashed as if hit by Reducto due to popular controversial book!
Books of Love Magic: Volume One shattered the first day sales record – previously held by Gilderoy Lockhart’s Magical Me.
The sex-magic book, which sold approximately 3,000 copies in the first day alone, drew controversy due to its topic…”
Harry, sitting at the Gryffindor Table in the Great Hall, was holding the paper in front of his face, rereading the article for the fourth time. Actually, he wasn’t rereading as much as he was using the paper as a shield. A shield used primarily to hide Hermione’s disappearance from her seat next to Harry from their fellow students who were eating breakfast. You see, Hermione had been so excited by the sales of the book that she couldn’t help herself. She had slipped under the table and was having an in-depth “conversation” with ‘Harry, Jr.’. She was telling the member just how happy this news made her, so to speak.
Once Harry and Hermione were finished with their breakfasts – albeit Harry’s meal was more conventional than Hermione’s – the two got up to go back to their room. Harry, being a gentleman, had every intention of returning Hermione’s favor. But unlike his bits, which were forward facing and pivoting, Hermione’s weren’t, so he couldn’t just slip under the table like she had unless they did some major unladylike repositioning. So, he had planned on taking her back to their room and giving her a handful of orgasms.
However, before they could exit the Great Hall, Su Li came bounding up to the couple with a familiar book clutched in her hands.
“Could you please autograph this for me?” Su requested with a happy squeal. She was holding Books of Love Magic: Volume One and a quill up for the couple. “I received mine by owl last night, and I must have you two sign it!”
“Ah, I don’t know why you’d want us to do that,” Harry said, hoping that the ruse would work.
“Oh, please, you two may have disguised your faces but you didn’t bother to disguise your genitals,” Su said dismissively.
“Our… genitals?”asked Hermione in shock.
“Yeah, I watched those pensieve memories so much that I can recognize your bits anywhere,” Su said with a happy glow to her face.
Hermione suddenly turned white as a sheet. “I forgot about that,” she muttered regretfully, as if it was silly of her not to have realized that they should’ve put glamour charms on/ ‘Harry, Jr.’ and ‘Miss Nibbles.’/
“Do you think anyone else/ ‘recognized’/ us?” asked Harry, pensively.
His question wasn’t answered so much in words as it was by the sight of dozens of his peers pulling copies of Books of Love Magic: Volume One from their bags and rushing to stand behind Su, clearly wanting Harry and Hermione’s autograph.
“Oh, bollocks,”cursed Hermione.
“Don’t worry, we all had a nice long chat about your/ ‘secret identities’ /last night after the group reading and orgy,” Su said soothingly to Hermione.
“Wait, there was a group reading and I wasn’t invited?” the brunette asked, offended by the notion that anyone would have a book reading without her, regardless of the fact that she wrote the book or not.
Harry wanted to continue with Hermione’s line of thought and say “Wait, there was an orgy…” but he thought his lover would just become more upset.
“We all agreed that we won’t spill the beans,” Su concluded.
By this point, a line thirty two people long was behind Su.
“Wow, that must’ve been one hell of an orgy,” commented Harry.
“It kind of got weird once Sprout and Slughorn showed up,” the Asian witch said with a scrunched up nose. “Thank Merlin they didn’t ask anyone to swap partners.”
“There was swapping?” asked Harry, trying to block out the mental image of Sprout and Slughorn.
“Yeah,” replied Su. “Let me tell you, Filch had one hell of a mess to clean up this morning.”
With a dismissive shrug of his shoulders, Harry admitted, “Well, there’s no point in trying to hide from it.”
Hermione, too, shrugged her shoulders, agreeing with Harry’s assessment.
Harry took the book and quill from Su and asked, “Should I sign it ‘Harry Potter’ or ‘Tim Hunter?'”
“It doesn’t matter, they’re both the same person after all,” Su pointed out.
“I think we should stick with our pen-names,” suggested Hermione.
As Harry scribbled his nom de plume, he offered “Do you want Ron and Luna to sign as well?”
“Wait, Luna? The girl with the enormous jugs is Luna?” a sixth year Hufflepuff, four people back, asked.
“Did someone mention me and my breasts?” asked Luna, suddenly appearing next to Harry.
After a short explanation as to how their cover was blown, Ron and Luna joined in the autograph session. For the next half-hour, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Luna signed every single copy of the book, including Slughorn and Sprout’s. Every once in a while, Ron had to be reminded to sign “Neil Gaiman” and not his real name. Whereas Luna altered her pseudonym slightly by adding a nickname:/ “Perky/’Jugs’ Weatherby.” A short while later, she further tweaked with this new moniker by signing; “Perky/ ‘The Jugs’ /Weatherby.” “Notice the definitive article? It adds much more significance,” the odd blonde explained.
SoG SoG SoG
That night, after supper, Harry and Hermione made their way back to their room. But before they reached their destination, the dreaded ghost of Gryffindor jumped out of the shadows and rushed up to the two young lovers. The ghost threw his arms around both Harry and Hermione and pulled them to his chest. He began to weep, noisily into Hermione’s hair. Silver tears poured down his face and trickled into Hermione’s frizzy mop.
“Thank you, thank you both so very, very much,” the ghost said in a hiccup. “You’ve made me so very happy.”
“I take it you’ve seen the book,’ Harry said in a deadpan.
“It was s-s-so wonderful,” Gryffindor choked out. “You have surpassed all of my previous protegees, Harry. I’m so proud.”
“I’m not your protege,”objected Harry.
“Crowley would’ve been so incensed to hear me say that, but you beat everything he ever did, my boy,” cheered Gryffindor. He placed a kiss on Harry and Hermione’s cheeks and squeezed their bottoms before pulling away.
“Well, I must be off,” the ghost announced.
“Don’t let us keep you,” Harry said, hoping Gryffindor would make his exit.
“That book of yours has made everyone incredibly randy. The sixth year Hufflepuffs are having a naked wrestling match tonight. One ring is for oil-wrestling, another for mud, and the third has loads of jelly. They have something for everyone!”Gryffindor said with glee. “The losers have to /’service’ /the seventh years.”
“And what happens to the winners?” asked Harry, instantly regretting it.
“Why they get serviced by the fifth years, of course,” the ghost said, a broad smile bisecting his face.
The Founder took four steps away from the two young lovers and spun around to face them again.
“Oh, I have a suggestion for your next book,” he said, a broad, perverted grin stretched across his lips. Well, more perverted than usual.
“What makes you think there’ll be another book?” asked Hermione. “We’re not planning on writing another book.”
“I heard you were a terrible liar but to see it in person is something else,” the ghost said.
“Damn,” muttered Hermione.
“Oh don’t worry, my young, sexy friend, even if you could lie, I still would’ve known the truth,” Gryffindor said, sportingly. “While invisible, I’ve been observing the both of you for quite some time now.”
“What?” screeched Hermione.
“Oh, yes, I saw those shows you put on for the Auror and your big titted blonde friend. I watched, unseen, in silent wonder as you and your friends shot the photos for the book. I nearly shouted for joy when you performed the, what was it called? Ah, yes; the Double Up Ward. It’s truly a delight to see you two play with anal-beads, masterful you are.” The ghost paused and applauded the couple for their fine work.
“Don’t you have an under-aged wrestling match to watch?” asked Harry bitterly. It was true that everyone had seen him and Hermione go at it time and time again, but the thought of this lecherous ghost abusing himself over it bothered Harry.
“Fine, fine, let me just give you my suggestion for your next book,” Gryffindor said. He rubbed his hands together and spoke; “The theme for your next book is…”
Like a stage magician, Gryffindor threw up his hands and stars and sparkles erupted from his fingertips as if they were Roman Candles.
“I didn’t think ghosts could do stuff like that,” Harry said.
“Ghosts can’t affect the physical world either, but Gryffindor was able to squeeze both of our arses just now. He’s a ‘special’ ghost, unfortunately,” Hermione said grumpily.
Suddenly, the stars began to spin around and dance in midair. In a few short seconds they began to form letters.
“Here it comes,”Gryffindor said gleefully.
The first letter appeared. A giant “S” made out of sparkling stars hovered two feet over the ghost’s head. A “C” soon appeared and Gryffindor began to giggle like the pervert he was.
“Oh, bollocks, I can see where this is headed,” groaned Harry.
The next letter was a massive “A” followed promptly by a large “T.”
“Ta-da!” the ghost announced triumphantly as the letters burned and glowed, completely illuminating the hall.
“No,” Hermione said, and without a pause, she turned and marched down the hall. Harry shook his head and followed his girlfriend.
“Oh come on,” the ghost called out to them. “Don’t knock it unless you try it!”
“Enjoy your wrestling match,” Harry said over his shoulder.
“You know what? I was wrong about you being my best protege,” Gryffindor stated loudly. “Crowley wouldn’t have balked at some new adventure!”
With a loud grunt that told Harry the ghost was disappointed, Gryffindor turned and trotted off to the Hufflepuff common room. Now that the perverted pest had been dealt with, Harry and his girlfriend returned to their room. There they found an owl carrying a large sack, perched on a chair. The owl hooted and flew out the window, leaving its package… and the sack on the table. A note was attached to the bag. While Harry cleaned up the owl droppings, Hermione read aloud:
“Dear ‘Tim’ and ‘Mona,’
Second day’s sales of your book trumped first day’s; we sold another 4,000 copies! I had to fire-call Luna’s dad so that he could make more books (by the way, he’s a strange bloke, he kept asking if I wanted to pop over and see his doily collection). I had no less than twenty customers buy at least two copies so that they could give it as a present to friends or family.
The sack contains your share as authors and publishers of the first two days of sales. It’s a measly 14,220 galleons – the shop took its share of 3,210. I have to thank you because I get a commission on sales. So not only will I get to share in the book sales, nearly every customer bought lingerie and toys to boot. Excluding your book, I sold over 10,000 galleons in other merchandise! We’re bloody out of stock on everything! Let me tell you, my paycheck is going to be massive this month! It will more than make up for the lack of sales over the past few months!
Oh, just thought you’d like to know; the couple who lives in the flat above me are in the process of performing the Anti-Apparation Ward as I write this. I know because me and my boyfriend did it earlier and my neighbors stopped by to ask for some pointers.
Anyway, my boyfriend and I are going to try out another of your wonderfully exciting rituals… or two.
Ta,
Alicia.”
“14,220 galleons!”exclaimed Hermione.
“Not too shabby,”Harry said with a broad smile. “Wait until Ron and Luna get their share of this. I think he’ll have a coronary.”
“This is cause for celebration!” cheered Hermione. Obviously, she was thrilled over the thought of her work reaching so many people. That and there was a whole lot of gold in that bag.
“You know, anal sex is a damn good way to celebrate,” offered Harry.
Unfortunately for our hero and ‘Harry, Jr.’, before Hermione could reply – knowing her, there was a very good chance that she would’ve said something along the lines of “You know, Harry, that would be a splendid idea” – the silver doe Patronus strolled through their closed door, much like a ghost passing though awall. It stood and looked at the two young lovers, clearly waiting for them to follow.
Harry looked at his girlfriend and asked, dejectedly, “I take it this mean there won’t be any buggering?”
With an equal amount of disappointment, she answered, “No.” Clearly, she too was looking forward to the thought of being on the receiving end of the celebratory sodomy that Harry had proposed.
Harry pulled out his wand, saying, “Even though I trust what you said about the Patronus being a Light Magic and the caster meaning us no harm, I still think we should be on our guard.”
“I agree,” said Hermione as she withdrew her wand from her pocket.
The young couple walked past the doe and opened the door. With a trot, the magical creation walked through the opening and into the hall. Harry and Hermione followed. The doe led them out of the castle and onto the school grounds. After a few minutes, Harry noticed that it was taking them to an all too familiar tree.
“The Whomping Willow?” said Hermione. The massive tree’s limbs were motionless; clearly someone had pressed the hidden knot which froze the Willow’s club-like branches. “It must be taking us to the Shrieking Shack.”
Just as predicted, the doe trotted down into the secret tunnel leading to the Shack. After minutes of walking, they approached the trapdoor entrance to the Shrieking Shack.
Harry’s stomach tightened and bile crept up his throat when he climbed through the trapdoor and saw the greasy, bat-like wizard standing off in a corner.
“Why didn’t you come the first time I called for you?” Snape demanded. Like an obedient pet, the doe Patronus walked next to Snape and stood by his side.
“Wait, you cast that Patronus?” Hermione asked incredulously.
Instead of responding, Snape waved his wand and the doe disappeared like a puff of smoke, proving he was indeed the one that cast the doe Patronus.
“Do you realize how much danger I’ve put myself under?” Snape snapped. “Leaving the Dark Lord’s castle once draws unwanted attention. However, you didn’t respond to my first call the other night, and I was forced to brave the hazards once again by coming here tonight!”
“We didn’t know it was you,” defended Harry, with anger in his voice. He didn’t like being pushed around by Snape. And now that the git wasn’t his professor, Harry had no intention of holding back his anger out of fear for “losing House points.”
“I must admit, the Patronus is not an effective communication tool,” Snape said, begrudgingly. “If only it could talk. Then, maybe it could deliver messages. But no, that would be insipidly preposterous.”
“Perhaps we can come up with a better way to communicate,” suggested Hermione. “Why not a written code based off of LaMarche’s Brain Theory?”
Snape seemed to ponder over this for a moment. “LaMarche was a genius, despite his penchant for making up new and infeasible plans for world domination, seemingly every night.”
Then, visibly struggling, the greasy wizard admitted, “That appears to be a viable idea. We shall use LaMarche’ Brain Theory for any future communications.”
“So, did you get the Locket?” asked Harry, hoping to stop the idle chatter. The sooner he was away from Snape the better as far as he was concerned.
“You need to ask?” Snape questioned snidely. He reached into his pocket and withdrew the Locket and set it on a nearby table.
“I would ask why the Shack is no longer a hovel, but I have a distinct feeling that I wouldn’t like the answer,” the greasy wizard commented, gazing at the Shack’s new grandiose interior. Harry recalled that he had accidentally recreated the building into its current palatial state when he and Hermione first made love.
“How’d you get the Locket from Zardoz?” Hermione asked her former potions professor. “I was under the impression that he would never give up anything from his collection.”
With Hermione’s comment, Harry suddenly recalled an article from the Daily Prophet. The article’s title had read; “Eccentric Collector Loses Everything in Fire.”
“Wait, you burned his house down?”
Snape glared at Harry with his black eyes a moment before admitting; “It had to be done.”
“You burned down Zardoz’s house!” Hermione exclaimed.
“You said it yourself: he would’ve never given up such a prize,” he justified, gesturing at Slytherin’s Locket. “The man was obsessed with the Founders. I knew that he couldn’t be bargained, bartered, or reasoned with.”
“So you burned down his house?” Harry asked, still in disbelief.
“Yes, there was no other way.”
“Couldn’t you have swiped it in the middle of the night?” asked Hermione.
“You seem to forget, the Locket is one of the Dark Lord’s Horcruxes,” argued Snape in a condescending tone. “If I had stolen it like a thief in the night, like you suggest, when Zardoz woke up and discovered the locket missing, he would’ve raised a commotion, to say the least. He would’ve alerted the authorities and the /Daily Prophet/. The news that Slytherin’s Locket was stolen would’ve surely reached the Dark Lord. And he would’ve become alarmed; so much so that he’d check on his other Horcruxes.”
“Oh,” muttered Hermione. The thought of what Snape had described had clearly chilled her.
“You could’ve have adjusted his memory, remove his memories dealing with the Locket,” said Harry. “There had to be another way than to destroy his house and his collection.”
“Ah, that is a brilliant idea, Potter. Why didn’t I think of adjusting Zardoz’s memory? Because I’m not an utter imbecile!” snapped Snape. “What would’ve happened if I did just simply adjust his memory but he had some sort of paperwork, such as sale receipts and insurance coverage on the Locket, hmm? That would’ve raised suspicion, wouldn’t it? Can you imagine Zardoz, who had no recollection of buying the Locket, discovering evidence to the contrary? Again, he would’ve drawn unwanted attention that surely would’ve reached the Dark Lord.”
“I see your point,” mumbled Harry.
“It was necessary to set the fire and destroy Zardoz’s collection so that he’d think the Locket was destroyed with the rest of his collection,” Snape explained, patronizingly. “That way, the Locket would not have been singled out in any reports and be unlikely to gain the Dark Lord’s attention.
“Have you located the final Horcrux?” the greasy wizard asked.
“No, not yet,”Harry grumbled.
“I shall try to garnish the information from the Dark Lord, but it will require tact and delicacy,” Snape mused. “If I find the hiding place, I will send you a message using LaMarche’s theory as agreed.”
“We’ll do the same if we find it first,” Hermione declared, taking Snape’s comment as a challenge.
“Then I wish you luck,” Snape said, obviously not meaning a word of it.
Harry marched to the table and snatched up the Locket and slipped it into his pocket. Without saying goodbye, Harry took Hermione’s hand and led her through the trapdoor and into the underground tunnel.
To say that Harry was upset would’ve been an understatement. Snape always got the young wizard to lose his cool and anger him. It seemed to Harry that Snape enjoyed riling him up.
“Um, Harry, this might not be the best time to bring this up,” began Hermione, anxiously.
“What?” barked Harry, still fuming over Snape.
“It’s about Snape’s Patronus,” she said. “The form it takes.”
“It’s a doe, big deal,” he returned. He was so angry that he was stomping his feet with each step through the secret tunnel.
“Ah, the form a Patronus takes is representative of the caster’s affections, remember?” she continued, her nervousness would’ve been noticed by Harry if he wasn’t so upset at the time.
“So what?”
“Snape’s Patronus is a doe, Harry.”
“That just means he is obsessed with my Mum,” he stated. Harry wished Hermione would just drop the subject.
“Why would he cast a doe then?” she asked. “We know Lily wasn’t an animagus. If she had been, Remus would’ve told us by now. The doe cannot have any connection to Lily.”
“What are you getting at?”
“The doe is the counterpart to the stag. Snape’s Patronus is directly connected to your father’s animagus form.”
“But that doesn’t make sense,” Harry stopped walking and faced his girlfriend. “Snape hated my dad. And the Patronus deals with affection and love. Why in the world would Snape’s Patronus be representative of my Dad?”
“The only thing that makes sense is that Snape hated your father for a different reason, a reason he doesn’t understand himself,” suggested Hermione. “I think that Snape… ah… loved James.”
At that moment, Harry felt very much like vomiting. Even the mere suggestion of what Hermione had said had frightened/ ‘Harry, Jr.’ /so much that the organ ran away and hid in Harry’s body cavity.
“B-bu-b-but he hated my Dad,” Harry said weakly, as his head spun and his stomach churned. How could Hermione even think that? It was bad enough that Snape liked wanking to his mother, but now Hermione was proposing that Snape loved his father.
“Well, Draco hates you,” Hermione countered. “Yet, we know that he has been lusting over you.
“I think, deep down, Snape was attracted to James from a young age, and it confused and frightened Snape,” speculated the brunette. “I’ve read that some men, or even boys, are often confused and frightened when they get homosexual desires for the first time. And Snape tried to quell this desire for James by hating him out of fear and confusion. Snape actively turned his affection for James into hate in order to counteract his new-found feelings.”
Harry had to put his hand on the wall of the tunnel to steady himself. If he didn’t there was avery good chance that he would fall to the ground.
“And that’s probably why he’s overly obsessed with your mother,” continued Hermione. “He convinced himself that he wasn’t gay and fixated on Lily. Or even subconsciously he wanted to be her. That way he’d be with James, much like your mother was with him.”
“But when we gave him Veritaserum he said he loved my mum,” Harry said, desperately trying to find a hole in Hermione’s logic for the sake of his own sanity. “Veritaserum makes people tell the truth!”
“Truth is nothing more than an interpretation of emotions. One person’s truth is another’s lie. When he was given Veritaserum, Snape spoke his version of the truth, which wasn’t factual, in a sense. It’s clear that Snape has repressed his affection, so much so that he probably doesn’t even recall ever having loving feelings towards James and that he believes with all of his heart that he hated James and loved Lily,” countered Hermione.
“But despite convincing himself that he hated James, Snape’s subconscious still remembers. And much like how your subconscious made your Patronus a stag, Snape’s made his a doe,” continued Hermione. “Essentially, Snape’s subconscious is admitting his hidden love for James by making his Patronus the female equivalent for your father’s animagus form.”
Harry slumped against the earthen wall. When he discovered that Sirius and Remus had been lovers, he had been surprised and a little shocked. But this revelation regarding Snape disgusted Harry. If it had been any other bloke who had been in love with his father, Harry would’ve been able to take it in stride. But not Snape! He was the most vile, hateful man Harry knew, next to Voldemort. It was bad enough when Harry had been told that Snape was obsessed with his mother to the point of stalking her and wanking over the image of her and her possessions as he did with her school notes. But now he’s being told that that obsession was only a cover to hide Snape’s true love: James!
However much he loathed admitting it, Hermione’s reasoning was sound. Snape, the foul, nasty wizard that had tormented Harry’s life for the past seven years, was unknowingly in love with the young wizard’s dead father.
Hermione wrapped her arms around her troubled lover and whispered, “How about we put this nasty subject behind us and head back to our room. After we perform a particular ritual you can tie me up to the bedposts and have your way with me.”
“That’s one of the reasons why I love you,” Harry said, returning the embrace. His arms still trembled from the shocking news, but he drew strength from his lover and their impending shag. “You always have a way of making everything seem brighter.”
“Oh, how sweet,”Hermione said. “For such a nice compliment, I’ll let you cum wherever you want; in me or on me, anywhere.”
“And that’s another reason I love you,” he said and kissed her. “So, what’s the ritual you have in mind?”
“The Locating ritual,” she said. “We need, no, we have to find that last Horcrux before Snape does. I want to rub his hooked nose in it.”
“And yet another reason I love you,” he said, not only because his lover was so confident and driven to best Snape, but because he was going to get a hand-job out of it.
Author’s notes: Yes, I know I’m not the first person to point out that Snape must’ve been in love with James because of his Patronus, but that just means it makes sense to others as well. According to Rowling’s own rules dealing with the Patronus, it is easily deduced that Snape had the hots for Harry’s dad, not Lily. Of course, Rowling wanted to say that Snape’s Patronus was symbolic of Lily, and since James’ animal form is a stag, the male equivalent to a doe, that it meant James and Lily were soul mates. But since Rowling is utter crap at romance, this concept was lost somewhere between her notes and published material and the reader was left feeling uneasy and confused about the whole James/Lily/Snape triangle.

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Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor
Chapter Seventeen: It’s Not Easy Being Green
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 Seventeen Summary: It’s amazing what one can stuff in a broom cupboard.
“You shagged my eyes green!” Hermione screeched. A part of Harry wanted to run very far away due to the anger in his lover’s voice. The other part of Harry marveled at how her screams echoed off the marble floor of the expansive bathroom; it was a really large room.
Hermione was leaning over the sink and had her face very close to the mirror in order to examine her eyes more closely. Of course she was still wearing only her bra and knickers. The moment Harry had informed her about her new eye color, Hermione had jumped out of the bed and rushed to see for herself. And the fact that she was bent over the sink made her round bum stick out quite nicely. The part of Harry that was intrigued by the echo effect was also aroused by the sight of Hermione’s bottom. That part wanted to have Harry run his hands over her flesh. Of course the part of Harry that had wanted to run away – the rational part of Harry’s brain if you don’t remember – realized that it would be a very bad idea judging at how mad Hermione was.
“You shagged my eyes green!” she repeated.
“I didn’t mean to,” Harry weakly defended.
“You shagged my eyes green!” Hermione repeated again.
“Not totally,” Harry pointed out. “They’re still mostly hazel. And I kind of like the green.”
“My eyes have never been hazel, Harry,” Hermione groaned out. “They’ve always been brown.”
“There’s a difference?” asked Harry. To him, hazel was just another way of saying brown.
“No, hazel is brown with a touch of green in it,” explained Hermione. It was obvious by the tone of her voice that Hermione was truly worried by this change. “How long have you noticed that my eyes were hazel?”
“Um… since we’ve been together.”
“What’s happening to me?” Hermione asked.
Harry had no idea, and if Hermione was stumped, he reckoned that they were fairly well buggered.
“Let’s go talk to McGonagall,” Hermione stated.
“Do you think that’ll help?”
“Well, maybe she can offer some suggestions.”
Harry nodded his head in agreement and the two lovers got dressed. Hermione led the way out of the bedroom and stopped when she got into the hall.
“Ah, Harry,” Hermione said while she looked up and down. “I think you changed more than just the bedroom and loo.”
Harry joined Hermione in the hall and was stunned. What was once a dark, dank, and dusty two leveled shack was now an expansive three leveled mansion!
To Harry’s left was a white-marble staircase with pure gold fixtures that looked like it belonged in a palace. To his right were seven doors which led to what he assumed were more bedrooms. Above him was a domed sky light which flooded the stairwell and hall with warm light.
The two lovers walked down the stairs and surveyed the second floor. On this floor, there was a large library (which, much to Hermione’s obvious and vocal disappointment, had no books; just empty shelves needing – or, according to Hermione, begging – to be filled) and a game room (complete with a snooker table, large chess table, and another table which looked perfect for a match of exploding snap).
The bottom floor now contained a massive kitchen, dining room, and parlor. At the front of the house was an impressive double door with ornate carvings on it. Harry opened the door and stepped out. The wizard was quite surprised to see that the exterior of the Shrieking Shack had not changed at all; it was still a crumbling hovel. He reasoned that it was now much like the magical tent he and the Weasleys had used when they went to the Quidditch World Cup.
“How does it look out there?” Hermione asked from the foyer while she looked up at the domed ceiling inside the Shack.
“It hasn’t changed,” informed Harry. “It still looks like the old Shack; but its bigger on the inside than it is on the outside. Kind of like the tent we had for the World Cup.”
“Or like the Tardis,” Hermione commented off-handedly.
“Who?” asked Harry.
“Exactly,” Hermione answered.
“How did you do this?” Hermione asked when Harry re-entered the now-glorious interior of the Shack. “What kind of spells did you use?”
“None really,” admitted Harry. “I just tapped into my love-core again and focused on the thought of making the room special for you… and this happened.”
“Let’s head back to the castle,” Hermione volunteered in a distracted way as she chewed her lip and looked at the magical building around her. It was clear to Harry that she was thinking about something but wasn’t willing to share just yet.
The two lovers walked through the secret passage – which was now no longer a dark and crumbling tunnel, but rather a well lit cobblestone hallway – to the school ground. Apparently, Harry’s magic altered the passageway as well. He wondered if his magic had changed the Whomping Willow as well. Was it now a harmless tree with brightly colored blossoms?
His question was answered as he approached the exit. Harry saw one of the tree’s limbs swing wildly at a passing bird, knocking it out of the sky. Apparently, Harry’s love magic stopped at changing the passageway and didn’t touch the Whomping Willow. From inside the tunnel, Harry reached up and pressed the secret knot and caused the Willow to freeze in mid-whomp. He helped Hermione out and the pair proceeded to head to the castle.
“What’s that?” Hermione asked as she pointed to a black lump in the distance near the edge of the forest.
“Don’t know,” said Harry while squinting to get a better look at the object.
“Was it there when we went to the Shack?”
Harry shrugged his shoulders. To be honest, he was much too focused on the thought of making love to Hermione to have actually paid any attention to his surroundings. For all he knew, a battle could have broken out between the Acromantulas from the forest and the giant squid from the lake and Harry wouldn’t have noticed.
“It’s a person!” Hermione shouted and rushed to the prone figure.
Harry quickly followed his girlfriend. Just before Hermione was about to kneel down so that she could examine the person, Harry recognized the robes. He whipped out his wand and warned, “Hermione, get back! It’s a Death Eater!”
Hermione jumped back at Harry’s warning. Slowly, Harry approached the unknown Death Eater. With his wand still pointing at the prone person, Harry lowered the black hood to reveal a broken and bloodied Death Eater Mask. Harry flicked the mask off.
“It’s Malfoy!” Hermione stated in surprise.
Lying right in front of the young lovers was none other than Draco Malfoy, the wizard who led a group of Death Eaters into the castle and aided in the murder of Dumbledore. His left eye was swollen shut, his nose was clearly broken in two places, and Harry felt it was safe to assume by the extensive amount of blood caked around his mouth that Draco had also lost some teeth as well. Malfoy was pale (well, paler than his normal morgue-like pallor) and looked as if he hadn’t rested or eaten in a day or two. His Death Eater robes were tattered and torn, with pieces of twigs and branches tangled in them.
Judging by the fact that Draco’s blood appeared to have been dry for some time, Harry guessed that Malfoy was attacked a few days previously and had escaped through the Forbidden Forest. Whether that was actually what happened or merely designed to appear so to whomever stumbled across Malfoy wasn’t clear. For all Harry knew this was a trap.
“Let’s get him to Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione ordered.
“No,” barked Harry.
“Harry, he’s injured,” argued Hermione.
“Good,” commented Harry honestly. “He deserves some pain, and if you ask me, he deserves a lot more. Besides, it might be a trap.”
“A trap? To do what precisely?” Hermione asked with her fists on her hips.
“Maybe Voldemort heard that they’re going to open up the school again and he wants to send a message,” Harry explained. “So they make Draco look like he’s gotten the snot kicked out of him and dump him where someone will find him. Then he is taken to the Hospital Ward where McGonagall visits him. Malfoy gives the signal, maybe a Flare Charm or something, then a bunch of Death Eaters Portkey to Malfoy’s location and kill all the staff present and burn the school down. That way, the school would never open again.”
“I don’t know Harry,” Hermione sounded. “It sounds a bit contrived.”
“Contrived, is it? It’s not as contrived as the plan where the Death Eaters entered the castle through the means of a magical teleporting cabinet which brought them into a magical room which houses stolen, hidden, or nefarious objects that have been collected over the ages,” Harry countered. “When Draco and the other Death Eaters left this room, they use the just-invented Peruvian Darkness Power, which Draco bought from the twins. No one can see through the Darkness Powder except for Draco because he finally has the Hand of Glory which is the perfect counter for the twins’ product. The Hand of Glory, of course being something he’s pouted for since before our second year. Then the Death Eaters conjured up a magical shield through which no one without a Dark Mark can pass. But even with this impassable shield, some of the Death Eaters stayed and battled the good guys so they can’t get to the shield, which they couldn’t pass even if it wasn’t protected by Death Eaters. While those Death Eaters are fighting the good guys – the ones that couldn’t pass through the shield but for some unknown reason, the bad guys still felt the need to keep the good guys from approaching it – one of the Death Eaters ran up to the top of the Astronomy Tower and casts the Dark Mark so that they could complete their plan to lure Dumbledore back to the castle. They knew he was away because their Imperioed spy alerted them that he and I had left. Mind you, the Death Eaters only had an hour or so warning, because no one, not even me, knew that Dumbledore was planning on leaving. Then once that Death Eater cast the Dark Mark, he ran back down and fought against the good guys to help make sure they couldn’t reach the shield they couldn’t pass anyway.
“When Dumbledore arrived, they sent Draco up to face him,” Harry continued his analysis of the Death Eater tactics. “Miraculously, Draco, a sixteen year old kid, was able to disarm the most powerful wizard alive – probably because Dumbledore was busy casting a Full Body Bind on me, even though I saw him take out several fully trained Wizards on two occasions in our fifth year which means he should’ve been able to cast the hex on me and take care of Draco easily. Next, a number of the Death Eaters left the fight to keep the good guys away from approaching the invisible shield they couldn’t pass and join Draco up on the Astronomy Tower to simply watch him assassinate Dumbledore. But, Draco didn’t have the nerve and none of these watchers did it either. Which is odd in itself, since they’re all a bunch of bootlickers who would’ve loved the opportunity to kill an unarmed and defenseless Dumbledore so that they could gain their master’s favor. They watched dumbly as this ponce,” Harry paused and pointed at Draco, “shock and trembleb. All the while, they could’ve easily killed Dumbledore themselves. Then they watched dumbly while Snape ran up and does the job for them and therefore gains their master’s approval. They then initiate their well-thought out escape plan: either run back through the good guys in hopes of returning to the Room of Requirement where they had come in from and use the magical transport device, or run through the good guys and into the Forbidden Forrest – of course they could have just as easily created a Portkey or two of them could have even use the brooms that Dumbledore and I flew on, I mean they were just sitting there in plain sight. But that wasn’t in their brilliantly conceived plan and so obviously they couldn’t do that. Now the major flaw in their well thought out escape plan is that all the good guys were concentrated at the entrance to the stairs of the Tower because of the plan to keep a Death Eater or two at the entrance to fight off all the good guys from approaching the shield they couldn’t pass. So therefore, when the Death Eaters escape; they have to fight their way through every single one of the good guys. If they had simply left their impenetrable shield unguarded, the good guys would’ve known that they couldn’t have passed through it. And since the good guys would need to find another way up the Tower, they would have left the entrance virtually unprotected during their searches.
“So, as you can see, this could be a trap,” Harry concluded.
Hermione blinked slowly as she obviously tried to catch up with Harry’s train of thought. It was clear by the expression on her face that she hadn’t realized, until Harry pointed it out, that the person who came up with the plan to attack Hogwarts and kill Dumbledore had the mental equivalent of a twelve year old on a sugar high. Either that or her expression meant she got a headache from trying to keep up with Harry’s explanation.
“Okay, how about we Portkey him to the Ministry and let them deal with him,” Hermione offered.
Harry tugged off one of Draco’s shoes and placed it near the blond wizard’s hand. Hermione tapped it with her wand while incanting “Portus.”
After the shoe had been transformed into a Portkey, Harry lifted Draco’s limp hand and dropped it on the Portkey. With a pop, Draco vanished from sight.
“Maybe we should’ve tested how powerful you are now on him,” offered Harry. “You know, a Blasting Hex or two just to see if the ritual worked or not.”
“Although that is a good idea and I’d love to get a chance to hurt the bastard; he deserves it how he gloated over Cedric’s death and what he did to Katie and Madam Rosmerta,” Hermione said. “I want him to be awake so he knows that it’s a ‘Mudblood’ kicking his bigoted butt.”
Now that that was out of the way, the two lovers continued their way to the castle.
They quickly went to the Headmistress’ office and knocked on her door.
“Come in,” McGonagall called out. When Harry followed Hermione into the room, he was relieved that McGonagall was alone. The conversation was going to be hard enough without an audience.
“Um, Professor… I…” Hermione stammered. It was obvious that she was nervous and was trying to find a more polite way of saying “Harry shagged my eyes green” to their stern Headmistress.
But before Hermione could continue, McGonagall demanded, “Miss Granger, what happened to your eyes?”
What followed was a very awkward conversation where Harry and Hermione informed McGonagall about the power boosting ritual – but Hermione was the one who did most of the talking because Harry still couldn’t bring himself to discuss sex in front of McGonagall. Hermione kept stammering and using vague innuendoes such as “my first blossom.” Even though Harry knew what Hermione was describing, he had difficulty following her.
“You performed the Maidenhead Ritual,” McGonagall commented, effectively ending Hermione’s awkward description.
“You know of it?” Hermione asked.
“Yes, it is somewhat uncommon, but some witches still do it,” McGonagall replied. “I did it myself,” she added with one of her saucy grins. Harry quickly blocked out the image of the Headmistress’ first time. That was something he didn’t want to see.
“But that doesn’t explain why your eyes are green,” McGonagall stated.
“I think it has something to do with Harry,” Hermione speculated. “He’s rather… powerful.”
McGonagall mulled over Hermione’s theory for a moment. The Headmistress turned to Dumbledore’s painting and asked, “Albus, what are your thoughts?”
“I once heard of an American mage who theorized that pure magic was always colored green,” Dumbledore mused aloud. “But I can’t seem to remember his name. I recalled that he claimed to be some sort of a reincarnation of Merlin.”
“Wasn’t that the fellow who had no legs?” McGonagall asked. “The one whose companion had a beard and who only had that one pullover that he constantly wore and carried some kind of glowing cricket bat all the time?” (1)
“Yes, that’s the one.”
“I don’t know, I ever heard his name.”
“Well perhaps we’ll discover his name at another time.” Dumbledore continued, “But coming back to the situation at hand, I’ve always believed that Harry was powerful, as Miss Granger commented, and that his power has somehow seeped into Hermione and has altered the color of her eyes.”
Harry blushed at Dumbledore choice of words even though he doubted that the venerable Headmaster had intended the word “seeped” to have such a double meaning.
“That’s what I was thinking,” Hermione agreed with Dumbledore. “Harry made a comment that my eyes were hazel ever since we’ve been together. I think his love based magic has been altering the color slowly and this ritual just accelerated that change. It’s probably safe to assume that my eyes will be the same color as Harry’s in a short matter of time.”
A chill ran through Harry. His love magic was changing Hermione’s eye color to match his. Did that mean that his magic was changing Hermione into a copy of him? Would Hermione slowly turn into a copy of Harry? That was something Harry did not like in the slightest. If Hermione turned into him, she’d loose her boobs, and Harry enjoyed playing with her breasts too much for that to happen. And Harry couldn’t bear the thought of Hermione’s flower turning into a replica of ‘Harry, Jr.’
“They do say that the eyes are the windows to the soul,” stated Dumbledore. “Harry’s love has touched your soul and it is showing that love in your eyes. Besides, I doubt that any other features will change, Miss Granger.”
“How can you be sure, sir?” Hermione asked.
“Because, Harry is controlling the change – on a subconscious level of course,” Dumbledore replied. “And I can safely assume that Harry doesn’t want the rest of you to change.”
Both Harry and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. They bid McGonagall and Dumbledore goodbye and left. But before they exited the office, Hermione turned and spoke to the Headmistress.
“Oh, I almost forgot, Professor,” Hermione began. “When Harry and I were walking on the school grounds, we found Draco Malfoy.”
“Malfoy?” McGonagall shouted. “What the hell was he doing here?”
“We don’t know,” Hermione replied. “He was unconscious. It was obvious that he was badly beaten and it looked like he had been in the Forbidden Forest for a few days. We created a Portkey and sent him to the Ministry.”
“Why didn’t you come and get me?” McGonagall asked.
“We thought it was a trap,” Harry supplied.
“Good point,” McGonagall agreed. “If it was, they’d never expect that we’d just send him to the Ministry without healing his wounds first.”
Harry was quite glad that McGonagall agreed with him. He didn’t want to repeat the same argument he had given Hermione earlier; just thinking of the overly contrived attack plan gave him a headache. Harry and Hermione said goodbye again and left the office.
As Harry and Hermione walked back to the Gryffindor Common Room, they discussed Dumbledore’s revelation.
“That was really nice what Dumbledore said about you power,” said Hermione with a bloom to her cheeks. “How you’ve touched my soul.”
“Oh, I thought you were talking about when he said my love ‘seeped’ into you.” Harry said with a wry grin.
“Harry James Potter,” scolded Hermione. “You have a dirty mind!”
“It was funny,” Harry defended.
After a moment, Hermione snorted “Well, there was a bit of seeping. But a quick Cleaning Charm took care of that.”
The two shared a laugh at their naughty joke as they entered the Common Room. They flopped on the couch and held each other as they chuckled. Harry stopped laughing suddenly when he saw a crest-fallen Ron stumble into the Common Room.
“Ron, are you okay?” Hermione asked after she regained her composure.
Ron mumbled a response and shrugged his shoulders.
“Ronald, carry me,” Luna’s voice requested from the hallway. “It’s tradition.”
The red haired wizard turned and walked out in the hallway. He returned a second later carrying Luna in his arms. It was fairly obvious what Ron and Luna had done judging by the way he was carrying her.
“Ron, you didn’t,” Hermione gasped. The defeated look on Ron’s face compared to the happy and glowing look on Luna’s informed both Harry and Hermione that they in fact did.
“It wasn’t my choice,” he argued. “Mum made me do it.”
“What do you mean?” Hermione demanded.
“It’s an old magical tradition,” Ron began. “If two people have any type of sex; even if it’s just a blow-job or a hand-job, the parents can force the two to marry.”
Both Harry and Hermione shared a worried look. Harry wasn’t opposed to the idea of marrying Hermione, but the concept of being forced to do so was distasteful. When he married her, it would be on their terms, no on else’s. He could tell that Hermione was thinking the same thing.
After setting Luna down, Ron sat on the couch and was lost in his thoughts. Luna eyed Harry and Hermione inquisitively before saying, “I wouldn’t worry you two; it’s only a pure-blood tradition. It was a way some families made sure their line remained pure. Besides, even if you two were pure-bloods, the tradition clearly states that at least one parent from each side must agree. Seeing that Harry’s folks are beyond the veil, they can’t really agree now can they?”
A wave of relief passed over Harry and he saw his girlfriend visibly relax. Luna walked up and hugged Hermione comfortingly and said, “Congratulations on consummating your relationship.”
Hermione’s eyes bulged in surprise at Luna’s comment.
“Did you enjoy the sex?” Luna asked and then added, “That was directed at you Hermione, since I know Harry enjoyed it. He’s a bloke so it’s obvious that he liked it.”
“Um… how’d you know?” Harry asked nervously.
“What kind of silly comment is that? I’ve known you’re a man for a while Harry,” Luna replied.
“No, no, how did you know about us making love?” Hermione corrected.
“It was clear the way you two reacted when you thought that you would be forced to marry now,” Luna answered.
“It’s about time, if you ask me,” Ron commented dispassionately.
“So, how was the sex?” Luna repeated.
“It was nice, but a touch awkward,” Hermione replied softly.
“You should’ve done what Ronald and I did when we first made love,” Luna offered. “When you do it five consecutive times, you get past the awkwardness rather fast.”
“Five times, I thought it was six?” Harry asked.
“Harry, please keep up,” Luna spoke as if she was speaking with a child. “Hermione and I are discussing intercourse. Ronald and I made love a total of five times – including the accidental sodomy. Yes, Ronald did ejaculate six times, but the first time was in my hand, and that’s not true intercourse,” Luna paused and caressed her husband’s face while commenting softly, “My virile man.”
Now that his concern was lifted, Harry turned his attention back to Ron. The red-haired wizard was so sullen looking that Harry thought he was going to cry. Harry didn’t know if he’d be able to handle being forced to marry Hermione like Ron was forced to do with Luna. Then it dawned on Harry; yes, he wanted to be married to Hermione on their own terms, but the idea of being married to her was actually very heart lifting. Harry realized that Ron should be happy. Even though it wasn’t his idea, Ron was married to a wonderful witch whom he loved and she loved him right back. In all honesty, Ron was overreacting. Harry was about to point this out to Ron when a sudden thought occurred to Harry; he hadn’t been invited to his best mate’s wedding.
“Why the hell wasn’t I invited?” Harry asked Ron in a jovial way. “I’m your best mate; I should’ve been your Best Wizard!”
“What about me?” Hermione added in an equally humorous way. “I was the one who introduced the couple. I should have been at least invited.”
“This isn’t funny you two,” Ron snapped. “I’m married.”
“Actually, it is kind of funny,” Luna said dreamily. Where Ron was upset and in shock over the marriage, Luna was taking her new marital status in her usual easy going manner.
“Why did Molly force you two to marry?” Hermione asked.
“My father made us as well, don’t forget,” Luna informed and plopped down next to her husband.
“I never met your dad, but I thought Molly wouldn’t hold to such an archaic pure-blood tradition? Why would your mum even consider doing such a thing?” Harry asked. He always thought that the Weasleys didn’t hold themselves to such beliefs.
“I think Molly was just upset her son had his way with me,” Luna answered.
“So, you’re saying that if Luna just stopped at giving you a hand-job on your first date, your parents could’ve still forced you to marry?” Hermione asked.
“Only if they found out,” Ron replied giving Harry an accusing eye. “Why’d you do that? If Mum hadn’t found out, she would have never insisted that we get married.”
“Sorry about that,” Harry said, not really believing that an apology was necessary. For one reason, the prank he and Hermione pulled on Fred and George was perfect. And the second reason, Ron should consider himself lucky to be with Luna.
“An interesting side note;” Luna stated. “If a pure-blood fools around with a half-blood or a Muggle-born, the tradition doesn’t apply.”
“I can’t believe it!” Ron snapped again. “How the three of you can take this so lightly?”
“What’s the big deal?” Harry asked Ron.
“I’m married,” Ron answered.
“Do you love Luna?” Hermione asked.
“Yes.”
“So what’s the big deal?” Harry repeated. “You’re married to a beautiful witch who you love and she loves you -”
“And a witch who loves his penis,” Luna added. “It really is wonderful; I could play with it for hours and hours.”
“You have,” Hermione made a comment under her breath about Ron and Luna’s day-long shag-fests.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Ron admitted and his worry melted away. Luna showed her appreciation for Ron’s realization by snuggling up next to him. At first Harry was happy for his friends and was about to wish them well when he saw Luna’s hand slowly inch down toward Ron’s trousers.
Harry took Hermione’s hand and started to make their way out of the Common Room; he was positive that Luna was going to whip out Ron’s willy and Harry had no intention of watching his two friends go at it… again. A happy groan from Ron announced that Harry’s speculation was right.
The moment the two lovers entered the hall outside the Common Room, a number of house-elves popped out of thin air.
“Yous be a very bad wizard!” one elf shouted at Harry in a mixture of rage and sadness.
“The bald feline done be violated,” another added.
“The One of the Mark do be bad,” a third wailed.
“Yous done defiled the Great One!” an elf sobbed.
Harry was stunned; how did they find out so soon? He turned to see if Hermione was as perplexed as he was only to find his girlfriend rolling her eyes at the house-elves comments.
“Yous will pay, One of the Mark!” one threatened.
“Oh, just stuff it,” Hermione shouted. “I wanted the One of the Mark to ‘violate’ the bald feline. And I’m going to do it again!”
Harry jumped in the air triumphantly at Hermione’s declaration.
“We’s be stopping yous then,” one house-elf said defiantly.
“Why bother,” Hermione countered. “It’s already been done! There’s no point in stopping it now.”
Hermione took Harry’s hand and they turned to face the Fat Lady. At first, it was Harry and Hermione’s intention to reenter the Common Room and make their way up to his room to make love. But remembering that Ron and Luna started to become intimate in the Common Room and how fast they worked, Harry imagined Ron already had his new wife bent over the couch and was taking her from behind. So obviously, going through the Common Room was out of the question.
Harry looked around desperately for another place to be intimate. Hermione had promised another go and ‘Harry, Jr.’ was already starting to wake up. If Harry didn’t find another place, ‘Harry, Jr.’ would be quite irate.
Thankfully, Harry saw salvation. He pointed and declared, “There!”
“A broom cupboard?” Hermione said scandalously as she eyes the small door across the hall. “You want to shag in a broom cupboard?”
“It’s a Hogwarts tradition,” Harry defended. “Like house rivalry, you have to shag in a cupboard.”
With a smile, Hermione replied, “Who am I to go against tradition?”
Harry pushed his way past the house-elves and led Hermione into the tiny and cluttered room. He quickly closed the door behind him and the elves pleas and cries became muffled. Hermione drew out her wand and waved it at the door. Suddenly, the elves cries were silenced as she placed a Silencing Charm on the door.
The only light in the cupboard filtered through the bottom of the door. It was a tight squeeze and Harry didn’t have much room to move, but he was up for the challenge.
He took Hermione’s face in his hands and lovingly kissed her lips. Their tongues played with each other for a while and Harry’s hand began to wander down. His fingers worked in the near darkness on the buttons of Hermione’s blouse. Because of the cramped space, Harry wasn’t able to remove her bra fully. But that didn’t stop him from pulling it down enough to expose ‘Camilla’ and ‘Natasha.’ He trailed kisses down her neck and chest until he reached her wonderful nubs. Hermione groaned pleasurably as Harry played with each of her nipples in turn.
Harry knelt down – which caused a couple of pails to rub against his back. He reached up inside of her skirt and pulled her panties down. Hermione had to place her hand on Harry’s shoulder for support as she stepped out of her knickers. Harry took one of his lover’s legs and guided it so that it was draped over his shoulder. Holding the front of her skirt up, Harry dove in. He worked his Parseltongue magic on her flower. Within a minute, Hermione was grabbing fistfuls of Harry’s hair and her knee was shaking.
After she was good and wet, Harry stood and freed /’Harry, Jr.’/. The organ sprang out of Harry’s pants and was more than eager to play. Even though it was very dark in the cupboard, Harry was able to see a wicked smile on Hermione’s lips. The brunette witch turned around and stuck her bottom out at Harry.
“Take me from behind,” Hermione said throatily.
Harry gulped and braced himself. He was about to blindly follow through with Hermione’s command. He knew it would hurt her, but he wondered how much it would hurt him. He reckoned that that particular entrance was rather tight. He knew that he’d have to lubricate himself up before entering her nether hole. Would his spit be enough for the job? Would it be considered uncouth to spit a loogie on his own willy? It was also supposed to be a very messy way to have sex. Would Hermione be mad if Harry performed a Cleaning Charm on her bum as if he was saying she wasn’t hygienic enough?
But then Harry suddenly remembered something. He remembered that Hermione stated very clearly that she was in no way interested in anal sex. He was so caught up in the moment that he had forgotten that.
“Harry, I’m waiting,” Hermione moaned out and she playfully rubbed her bottom against him. Now Harry was very confused; he remembered that Hermione said no anal, but now she was propositioning him to do just that.
“Um, I thought you said never that way?” Harry asked, still confused as to what Hermione was suggesting.
“Take me from behind,” Hermione repeated in an annoyed fashion. “Not ‘take my behind’. Just go slowly, I’m still a little sore.”
“Oh,” Harry replied.
With one hand around the base of ‘Harry, Jr.’ and the other on Hermione’s round bottom, Harry rubbed his crown up and down Hermione’s vulva, smearing her juices on his tip. He felt Hermione shiver with delight and he decided to continue teasing his girlfriend. After a few moments of this action, Hermione hissed out “When I said /’go slowly’/, I didn’t mean this slowly.”
“You want me to stop this?” Harry asked playfully as he slid his crown over her nether lips again.
“Hurry up and stick that fucking thing in me!” Hermione commanded.
“Do you really want it?” Harry asked and he could see Hermione nod her head. Even though he was more than happy to comply with Hermione’s wishes, he was turned on when she used foul language and he wanted her to talk dirty to him some more. “Tell me how badly you want it.”
“I can’t handle it anymore,” Hermione began. “I want you to fuck me. I want your cock inside my wet quim.”
And that was good enough for Harry. Gently, he pushed his way inside of her. Hermione groaned out as Harry stretched out her inner walls. Slowly and rhythmically, Harry made love to her.
“Slowly, that’s it. It feels so effing good. I love it inside me,” Hermione moaned out. “Does my pussy make your willy feel good? Does it make you want to cum?”
He wanted to thrust and pound away inside of her. But she had warned him to go slow and Harry fought the urge. It didn’t help that Hermione’s dirty talk was driving Harry mad.
“Fuck me slow, Harry,” she purred and Harry felt his balls begin to seize up.
“Hermione, I’m gonna cum,” warned Harry.
“Do it Harry, cum in me,” she commanded.
With a primal shout, Harry released himself. Panting, he removed himself from Hermione’s flower.
“Did you like that?” Hermione asked and turned around.
“It was fantastic,” Harry said and pulled her to him. “Now, did you like it?”
“Very much so,” Hermione admitted. “It was much more enjoyable the second time. In fact, I was very close to climaxing.”
“How close?”
“Very,” Hermione answered. “I’d say about a minute or two, no more.”
Harry looked down and silently asked ‘Harry, Jr.’ if it was ready for another go. The organ struggled and bravely stood as if it was saying “I’m ready, Cap’n! For Queen and Country and all that!”
/ /Confident that he could last for another minute or two, Harry guided Hermione so that she was leaning against the wall.
“Harry, what are you doing?” Hermione asked in surprise. When he reentered her flower, Hermione muttered a barely audible “Oh, my.”
He knew he wouldn’t last long, but Harry wanted to make Hermione happy. He wanted desperately to return the pleasure she had given him. Every muscle in his body tensed up as he forced himself to stay erect for just a while longer. His cum and her juices coated his penis as he slid in and out.
In the dim light, Harry could see her now mostly green eyes sparkle with desire and love. He felt her walls tighten around his member. Hermione wasn’t lying when she told him that she was close. In a short matter of time, Hermione screamed out as her ecstasy claimed her. She bucked and she reached out for something to grab on to help her remain standing.
Unfortunately, that something was a broom that was just leaning against the wall. Not only did the broom not support Hermione, but because of her orgasm, she accidentally swung the broom… directly at Harry’s head. With a loud crack, the broom handle struck Harry’s head – right above his left eye.
The two lovers began to crash to the ground. On their way down, their bodies hit a number of cleaning tools and supplies, sending them to the ground as well. Pots, pails, and brooms landed on top of Harry and Hermione.
Mind you, during the fall, Hermione was still riding her orgasm. She bucked and thrashed on top of Harry as the various items rained down on them.
After everything had settled – both the cleaning supplies and Hermione’s orgasm, Harry asked “How was it for you?”
“Besides being pelted with brooms and whatnot,” Hermione breathed out. “It was a little squishy the second time. But I really liked it.”
It took them a while to untangle themselves from each other and the brooms, but when they stood, Hermione magically cleaned herself and Harry. After dressing, Harry opened the door to find that the house-elves had not left. In fact, they had set up an impromptu candlelight vigil. Each one of the elves was dressed from head to toe in black rags, some were even softly crying.
Hermione pushed passed the group and led Harry to the Great Hall.
“Let’s get something to eat,” Hermione said. “I’m hungry.”
When they arrived at the Great Hall, two plates of food were waiting for them. Harry assumed that one of the house-elves had heard Hermione’s comment about being hungry and they had prepared some food for them. Each plate had a note card with their names on it, indicating whose plate was whose. It was also obvious that the house-elves acted on their threat to get revenge on Harry for having sex with the Great One.
Hermione’s plate – the note card was marked “The Great One” in elegant writing – was loaded with luscious looking fruits, scrumptious kippers, and fluffy pastries. Harry’s plate – the attached note card had a very crude drawing of a stick figure being hung by its neck – was covered in rotting fruit, burnt-to-a-crisp kippers, and pastriesthat looked like they had been already chewed and spat out onto his plate.
“Well, I guess they don’t like you very much,” Hermione stated as she compared the two plates of food.
Seeing that Harry’s food was inedible, Hermione graciously shared her food with him. While they ate, Hermione continuously looked at the large bump and accompanying bruise on Harry’s forehead caused by the broom.
“Don’t worry about it,” Harry consoled her. “I’ve had worse.”
“Yes, but I’ve never cause one,” fretted Hermione.
“It was an accident,” Harry pointed out.
“But I still feel sorry,” Hermione pouted.
“Alright then, you can make it up to me,” offer Harry in a knowing tone.
Hermione blushed and scooted closer to Harry.
“Would you like for me to make it up to you right now?” Hermione cooed in Harry’s ear.
Harry was very keen on that idea. He imagined Hermione disappearing under the table and giving him head in penance for the accident. But he knew that ‘Harry, Jr.’ was too damn tired and it would be fruitless to do so.
“Maybe a rain check?” Harry asked.
In response, Hermione kissed Harry on the lips.
“Am I interrupting?” a familiar voice asked.
Harry looked up to see Tonks standing across the table. He was suddenly very happy that ‘Harry, Jr.’ was sleepy; if the organ had been up for Hermione’s offer, Tonks would’ve walked in to see Hermione slide under the table.
“Tonks, you look beautiful!” Hermione commented. At first, Harry didn’t notice anything unusual about the Auror. She was wearing clothes a punk rocker would wear and her hair was bright blue; it was her normal look and Harry didn’t think that merited Hermione’s comment. But then he saw a rosy glow to Tonks’ face that accented her natural beauty.
“Remus proposed,” Tonks stated and her glow grew brighter.
Hermione shot out of her seat and rushed over to Tonks. The brunette witch threw her arms around Tonks.
“That’s wonderful, Tonks,” Hermione cheered.
Harry followed Hermione’s lead and hugged Tonks.
“Of course, he had to because of the baby,” Tonks commented. “But I still said yes.”
The three shared a laugh for a moment. Tonks’ eyes bulged when she finally noticed the bruise on Harry’s head.
“Either you did something bad or you did something very good to deserve that,” the Auror said to Harry. Harry tried to act cool and composed, but he felt his face heat up. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Hermione’s face become flush.
“Oh, he did something really good, then,” Tonks quipped. “Did he make you cum?” she asked Hermione.
“Tonks!” Hermione scolded.
Then a wicked grin appeared on Tonks’ face. She quickly looked directly into Harry’s eyes then into Hermione’s.
“He’s shagged your eyes green!” Tonks heralded at the top of her lungs.
“Let me see,” Luna requested as she and Ron walked into the Great Hall. The blonde witch walked up to Hermione and cooed “Oh, they’re beautiful.”
“Are they different?” Ron asked.
“Yes Ron,” Hermione said in a perturbed manner. “They used to be completely brown.”
“I never noticed,” admitted Ron.
Hermione rolled her eyes at her red-haired friend.
“Anyway, I’m here to drop this off,” Tonks said and she handed Hermione a small pink and blue envelope. “It’s an invitation to an emergency baby shower.”
“Who’s having a baby?” Luna asked.
“I am,” Tonks answered and raised her shirt so that she could proudly show her belly.
“And she and Remus are going to get married,” Hermione added and Tonks’ smile somehow got even brighter.
“Congratulations,” both Ron and Luna cheered.
“When are you due?” Luna asked.
“About two months,” Tonks said.
“Two months!” Luna said with surprise. “But you’re not even showing!”
“Yeah, these two effed up and tricked us into performing a ritual that made me preggers and accelerated the fetus’ growth,” explained Tonks. Luna nodded her head along with Tonks’ explanation while Ron just looked like he only understood “effed” and “preggers”.
“You know one of the things a pregnant witch needs is a lot of potassium, right?” Luna asked.
“Among a load of other things,” Tonks stated.
“Well a wizard’s semen has a high amount of potassium in it,” Luna said.
“Luna!” Hermione cried in shock.
“It’s true,” Luna defended. “At a certain point in her pregnancy, Tonks won’t be able to have sex, but she can still pleasure Professor Lupin and help herself out…”
“By swallowing,” concluded Tonks. Harry could tell by the mischievous look in her eyes that Remus was going to have a fun and enjoyable two months ahead of him.
Trying to get past the awkward conversation about oral sex and pregnancy, Hermione held up the invitation and said, “I’ll be there.”
“Oh, you can come too Luna,” Tonks said.
“Why can’t we come?” Ron asked indicating both he and Harry.
“Do you want to hang around a bunch of witches as we talk about dirty nappies and stretch marks?” asked Tonks.
“Um, no,” Ron answered.
“Besides, I thought about making it a shower for wizards and witches,” Tonks continued. “But when I fire-called your brothers Fred and George, they freaked out. They had blindfolded themselves for some reason and when I mentioned a shower they asked if any old witches would be there. I said that there would and they started to panic. So I decided to just invite witches.”
Harry felt a sense of pride warm his heart. The prank he and Hermione had pulled was still working and it had obviously scarred Fred and George.
“When is the shower?” Luna inquired.
“Tomorrow night,” Tonks informed her.
“That soon?” Hermione asked.
“I did say it was an emergency shower,” Tonks said.
“I’m sorry, I can’t go,” Luna said. “Ronald and I are having dinner with Daddy.”
“First dinner alone with your girlfriend’s dad, huh?” Tonks asked in a frisky way.
“Actually, we’re married now,” Luna corrected.
“Wow, you two move fast,” commented Tonks.
“You don’t know the half of it,” added Harry.
“Well the first meeting is always the most awkward,” Tonks began. “It was a disaster when I took Remus to see my folks. They weren’t too keen on me dating someone thirteen years older than me.”
“Hell, the first time I met Luna’s dad, he forced me to marry her,” Ron explained.
“Okay, you two win the awkwardness award,” Tonks retorted. “But my dad was pretty furious that Remus was about only ten years younger than him…”
As Tonks continued her story of the first time Remus met her folks, Harry noticed that Hermione had a peculiar look on her face.
“Are you okay?” Harry whispered in Hermione’s ear.
“Yes, but I’ve just realized that we need to do something,” Hermione paused and looked Harry straight in the eye. “I think its time for you to meet my parents.”
Being a true Gryffindor, Harry suppressed the urge to run like hell.
To Be Continued
Footnote (1): if anyone can guess this reference, they will receive an internet cookie!
Author’s Notes: Sorry about the long delay in updating, but I was having some issues with real life.

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Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Showtime at Hogwarts!
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 Twenty-Nine: Harry and Hermione return to the castle.
“Mum, Dad, are you awake?” Hermione asked after softly knocking on her parents’ door. The only response she got was a muffled and utterly exhausted sounding “Muffgirk”noise. “It’s Christmas Morning, well actually Christmas Afternoon,” Hermione explained and then paused. “If you want to be technical about it, it’s actually early evening. Did you two want to get up and exchange presents?”
After a long pause, Hermione’s mother said in a fatigued voice; “Your father and I exchanged gifts already, dear.”
Harry could help but to comment softly in his lover’s ear, “More like they exchanged… ahem, ‘gifts’ a dozen times already.”
“You two go ahead without us,”Richard offered in a half groan. “Would you be a dear and bring up some food?” he requested.
While Hermione prepared two platefuls of ham sandwiches, she began to doubt her plan for spiking the cake with Lust and Stamina Potions. “I think I may have overdone it. I mean we made love until six this morning and yet we could hear them still going at it when we fell asleep.”
“Which normally should be an emotionally scarring experience for most,” commented Harry as he nicked a bit of ham for himself. “But you’re the one that thinks parents having sex is an expression of their love, not the unnatural act that it is.”
“But what if I did them more harm than good?” the brunette asked with a worried warble to her voice. “There is such a thing as too much sex.”
Just then, as if to challenge Hermione’s fears, two sets of voices began to groan loudly from the upstairs room.
“Looks like we shouldn’t take this food up to your folks just yet,” Harry said while gazing at the ceiling. He could almost swear that the light fixture in the kitchen was shaking thanks to Fiona and Richard’s efforts.
Hermione set the two plates down on the countertop, stating, “I guess we should go open our presents now.”
A loud and nearly joyous “Yes!”emanated from upstairs and the groaning quickly stopped.
“That was rather fast,” Hermione said with wide, slightly horror filled eyes.
“Well, to be fair, that was probably their twentieth go, give or take five, so they deserved a quickie,” Harry said, lifting up the two plates.
“You’re not going in there now, are you?” Hermione asked. “They just had sex!”
“You’re barmy,” Harry returned. “I’m going to have you crack the door open just a touch and then I’ll slide the plates in. Mind you, I suggest we have our eyes firmly shut at the time, just in case.”
~*~
Once they had successfully placed the sandwiches in her parents’ bedroom (where Harry had loudly hummed the theme to Mission: Impossible), the young couple opened their gifts to one another. Harry received a pair of leather trousers from Hermione (“to show off your bum,” she explained). Hermione gushed over the books that Harry bought for her (“I only have the first edition of Roderick’s Spell Encyclopedia and I’ve been eyeing this third revision for some time!”).
Hermione’s smile quickly faltered once all the presents had been opened. With guilty eyes, she said apologetically “You got me two gifts, this book and those lovely toys, but I only got you one gift.”
“To be honest, I enjoyed the toys, too,” offered Harry. Then he realized that he could use Hermione’s guilt to his advantage. “Although there is one way you can even the score, so to speak.”
“And what would that be?” she asked with a saucy grin, clearly knowing where Harry was going.
“Well, we’ve haven’t had sex in akitchen,” Harry said as if it was a curious thing to not have done yet.
“And my parents are out of commission, so we won’t be interrupted,” added Hermione.
“I have to fetch something from your room first,” began Harry.
“A toy?” she asked with her voice full of hope.
“Yes, a toy.”
“Which one? The beads again? The infamous Rorschach Branded Rubber Chicken? Oh, oh, the gag; please say the gag,” the brunette rapidly said in naked excitement.
“No, none of those. I was thinking about one we haven’t used yet,” Harry answered.
“There’s still more toys?” she asked and began to hop in place.
“Yes, a few more,” Harry couldn’t help but smile. “Now you go in the kitchen and get yourself ready while I get the toy.”
As Hermione bolted to the kitchen, Harry purposefully took his time retrieving the toy he had in mind. He wanted to play with his lover’s patience. When he walked in the kitchen after retrieving the toy, he noticed that while Hermione was waiting for him, she was still fully clothed.
“I thought you were going to get ready?” he asked.
“I was waiting for you,” she said, and then added “I didn’t want to start without you.”
“Well, then, it looks like I’ll just have to do all the work and get you prepared myself,” Harry said with a wide smile. He rooted around the drawers in the kitchen until he found a quilted oven-mitt. “Now bend over the counter,” he ordered while slipping on the mitt.
Because of the mitt’s protective padding, it took more effort than normal in his paddling to turn Hermione’s bottom a nice shade of red. But thanks to the quilting, it left a rather fetching pattern on her bum cheeks.
Now the toy that Harry used was quite unique, and Hermione thoroughly enjoyed it. The toy itself was a rubber ring with a small rubber troll standing on the top of it. The toy, being magical, did a wonderful thing: it moved. Now it didn’t do a dance or fly around the room or anything showy like that. But when the ring was in use, the troll would gently grab a certain small protrusion and vibrate. If extra description is needed, then please continue and read the next line; if not, please skip to the next paragraph. Harry placed the ring so that it was around the base of his first ever friend, ‘Harry, Jr.’, and when he entered ‘Miss Nibbles’ completely the animated troll promptly took hold of Hermione’s clitoris and began to shake and vibrate. Every time he pulled back, the troll tugged slightly at Hermione’s clit. And when he pushed back in, the magical toy snatched up her sensitive bud once again. This action was repeated, to great effect, with each thrust.
~*~
On Boxing Day, when she and her husband were finally able to stagger out of their room, Fiona announced to Harry and Hermione; “We need to have a talk.”
“Yes, mum,” Hermione answered with her best “I’d never do anything wrong because I’m your sweet and innocent little girl” voice.
“You did something with the cake didn’t you?” her father asked as he held an icepack to his groin.
“Um, what makes you think that?”Hermione asked. Her “I’d never do anything wrong because I’m your sweet and innocent little girl” voice was starting to fade a bit. She was such a poor liar.
Harry was trying to do his best at being invisible. He reckoned that the best plan was to be unseen by Hermione’s folks. Mind you, he knew full well that he was about to catch hell, but it would be less damaging to himself if he tried to lie and cover up the fact that the cake had indeed been spiked.
“We may not be magical, but we know that something happened to us after we ate the dessert,” Fiona said. With every word, a smile threatened to destroy her angry mask. Harry could tell that she was upset over the incident, but she was also damn pleased with it as well.
“Ah, well, to be honest, we did add something to it,” admitted Hermione. Harry was about to chuck his plan to stay silent out the window and point out that he had nothing to do with it. But he knew it would be bad form to rat out his girlfriend. Especially since the repercussion of said “ratting out” would include Hermione denying him sex for quite some time.
“And did that something cause your father and I to do something?” Fiona asked and Richard added in an undertone”Over and over and over.”
“Yes,” Hermione squeaked.
Fiona nodded her head sagely. “Well, we can only blame ourselves really.”
“Yes,” Richard agreed. “Wait — what?”
“We have been far too strict on the two of you,” Fiona continued with a sparkle evident in her eyes.
“We have?” Richard asked his wife, obviously surprised by this revelation.
“Yes, we agreed to ease up on our restrictions,” answered Fiona.
“We did? When did we do that?” he demanded. It was clear that he was unwilling to cut Harry any slack when it came to Hermione.
“Early Christmas morning,” Fiona stated. “Around four in the morning.”
“I don’t remember agreeing to anything,” Richard protested.
Fiona leaned close to her husband and whispered in his ear. After amoment, he objected, “That’s not fair. I’d have agreed to anything at that point. Especially when you do that!”
“Regardless, you agreed so we are going to give Hermione and Harry a little more freedom,” Fiona continued. The young lovers smiled happily. But Fiona was not smiling as she continued. “But not too much freedom. We’ll allow you two to hold hands and kiss lightly. But. We. Will. Allow. Nothing. Further.” She said firmly. “No hugging, no snogging, and definitely no sex while you’re under our roof.”
Harry knew that Fiona was ignoring the fact that she and her husband were holed up in their room for nearly two days and was obviously deluding herself by pretending that her daughter and Harry did not have sex during that time. But it was also clear that Fiona had truly enjoyed being holed up in her room, so she could ignore whatever had happened during that same period.
“I still don’t agree,” Richard said with a frown. “My previous statement agreeing to allow this situation doesn’t count, I was under duress at the time.”
Fiona leaned into her husband’s ear and whispered once more. After a moment, Richard, who was still frowning, announced; “All right, I agree to what your mother said.”
~*~
The remainder of the holiday was far less stressful for Harry and Hermione. The witch’s parents’ held true to their word and allowed the young couple to hold hands and kiss chastely. Of course Richard would still glower at Harry when they did this, but it was still better than having Hermione’s dad threaten to eviscerate him.
When the time came to return to Hogwarts, Harry and Hermione arrived early to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. They stored their things in a compartment and then made their way to the Head car for the Prefects’Meeting. After the train started moving, the Prefects joined Harry and Hermione in the car. Ron waved at his friends before sitting down.
“I tell you I can’t wait to get back to school,” the fifth year Hufflepuff Prefect announced once everyone had sat down.
“That’s the spirit,” Hermione congratulated him for his eagerness to begin learning.
“My parents were so-o-o depressing,”the Hufflepuff continued.
“Yours too?” a sixth year Ravenclaw asked.
“My Mum and Dad weren’t depressed,”a Gryffindor interjected. “They were too busy preparing for some attack that never came to be depressed.”
“What are you on about?” asked Hermione.
“Oh, our parents are paranoid,”someone offered.
“To say the least,” agreed another.
“My Mum and Dad even had a guard schedule set up,” yet another chimed in. “He’d take the ten pm to four amshift and then she’d take over so he could sleep.”
“Why were they doing that?” Hermione asked.
“They’re afraid,” Harry answered. He had yet told Hermione of what he had saw and heard while in Diagon Alley.
“Terrified is more like it,” some witch corrected.
“My Mum was so scared that we’d be attacked by giants or Death Eaters that she was losing clumps of hair.”
“But you’re in Slytherin,” another student asked. “Why would Death Eaters attack you?”
“That doesn’t mean me or my family works for You Know Who, you ninny.”
“But why would they be afraid?”asked Hermione. “Over a hundred Death Eaters were just chucked into Azkaban.”
“A hundred out of how many?” someone asked, echoing the fear that Harry had heard from a frightened wizard in the Leaky Cauldron.
“No giants were captured either,”another added. “You Know Who still has them.”
“It’ll be great to be back in the castle. At least there, no one frets obsessively over the war.”
“And I’ll get to see my witch again,” someone added cheerfully. “I haven’t seen her in days.”
“Once me and my bloke get the chance, I’m dragging him into the nearest cupboard,” another said with agenuine smile.
“Well, you’ll have to find another cupboard ’cause I’ll be using it to ravish my girl.”
“No, that just means you’ll have to budge over,” someone said with an easy chuckle. “I figure all the cupboards will be jammed pack tonight.”
As the conversation became lighter, Hermione gave Harry a worried look. Clearly she was concerned over the outlook of the war.
~*~
Once the meeting had concluded, the Prefects began to shuffle out of the car. Ron trotted up to Harry and Hermione.
“I have news that you won’t believe”the red head announced somberly.
Hermione and Harry waited for Ron to tell them this news, but the gangly wizard turned and headed to the door.
“Wait, what’s the news?” asked Harry.
“Oh, I’ll tell you later,” Ron said. “Luna said she wants to do it in the lavatory and I don’t want to keep her waiting.”
With that, Harry and Hermione were left alone in the compartment.
“Why are people so upset?” she asked. “They should be overjoyed that so many Death Eaters were captured. We performed the Morgy Ritual to give them hope.”
“It seems like they’re too afraid to see that hope,” offered Harry.
Hermione shook her head. As a good boyfriend should, Harry turned Hermione’s attention away from such a troubling topic by suggesting, “Let’s do it.”
“Oh, how romantic,” Hermione said as sarcastically as she could.
“I’m not talking about romance,”Harry countered. “I’m talking about lifting up your blouse, pressing your bare titties against the window, and shagging you from behind.”
“That means if anyone is watching the train pass, they’d be able to see my breasts up against the window,” the brunette witch pointed out.
One should notice that she “pointed” this fact out and that she didn’t object to it. This is important, because less than five minutes later, Hermione had her naked breasts squashed up against the window while shouting “Fuck me, Harry, fuck me HARDER!” (Thankfully, Harry had placed a Silencing Charm on the compartment so that they wouldn’t draw a crowd. That was a bigger threat than normal since Harry had purposefully left the door unlocked, adding to Hermione’s arousal with the threat of being walked in on.)
~*~
A satisfied and tussled looking Harry and Hermione walked through the train to find their friends. As they passed through car after car, the couple noticed a majority of their peers were just as satisfied and tussled looking as they were.
When the duo finally reached their friends’ compartment, they found Ron sitting with Luna and Neville, but no sign of Ginny.
“You two won’t believe what happened,” Ron declared when Harry and Hermione entered.
“Ronald, I think Neville should be the one to tell them,” Luna (whose hair was so tussled that it looked like she recently had her head hanging outside of the moving train) said. The blonde fixed her eyes on Hermione and said in a dreamy fashion, “Oh, by the way, Hermione, I saw your breasts again when Harry had you against the window. Ronald had me dangling out of the lavatory window, and when the tracks turned I got a good view of your boobs.”
“That’s nice,” Hermione said dismissively, clearly not concerned over this revelation. “So what’s the news, Neville?”
“Ginny and I are married,” Neville answered with just a touch of embarrassment.
“So Molly found out Ginny was pregnant?” asked Harry.
“Wait, you knew she was pregnant? And you didn’t tell me?”demanded Ron. His face was quickly growing red with anger. “I’m your best mate and she’s my sister and you didn’t tell me?”
“They probably didn’t tell you because they knew this was how you’d react, Ronald,” Luna said to her husband. She then turned back to Hermione and complimented; “You do have lovely breasts. Would you like to see mine? It’s only fair after all.”
“I’ve already seen them,” Hermione pointed out.
“Hey, I’m still upset here,” Ron persisted.
“Yes, Ronald, but you shouldn’t be,”Luna said and then added to the other witch; “But I just saw your breasts, and I’m a strong believer in fair play.”
“It’s quite alright,” insisted Hermione.
“I have a right to be upset,” Ron carried on.
“No, you really don’t, my love. Harry and Hermione knew that you would take the news badly, so they logically didn’t tell you. Honestly, they were protecting you,” the blonde said off-handedly before returning to her conversation with Hermione. “I’ll feel terrible if I don’t show you my breasts.”
“If she really wants to, I say why not,” offered Harry as he tried to coyly position himself next to Hermione in the off chance that Luna would show her boobs.
“Harry,” warned Hermione.
“He does have a point,” Neville said as he, too, stood next to Hermione to enhance his chance at an unobstructed view.
“All right, fine,” Hermione said with a huff. “Whip them out.”
Smiling broadly, Luna popped open her blouse letting her enormous breasts spring free (Harry could’ve sworn he heard two “boing” sounds – one for each boob).
“My God,” Neville began.
“They’re,” continued Harry.
“Huge,” concluded Hermione.
“Have you three had enough of ogling my wife?” Ron demanded.
“Not just yet,” Harry said. Neville held up his index finger as if to say to Ron that he needed just one more moment. Of course, during this interchange, Harry, Hermione, and Neville had been staring wide-eyed at the blonde’s chest. Luna stood there, happy as a clam while three of her friends were transfixed with her melons.
“They are fascinating,” commented Hermione. “I’m not into women in the slightest, but I can’t help but stare.”
“Not really into women, huh?” Harry whispered in her ear so that she was the only one to hear. Of course, his eyes were still glued to Luna’s ample mounds. “That wasn’t the case when we performed the Morgy Ritual.”
“I told you then, it was just an advanced form of masturbating,” Hermione said in an equally soft voice. She then added, in a louder voice, “Do you see that blue vein on her left tit…”
“This one,” Luna said while pointing to her own breast.
“No, the one a few inches above it,”Hermione corrected and Luna moved her finger up. “Yes, that’s the one. Doesn’t that look like an outline of a Quidditch goal post?”
“What? Quidditch? Boobs?” Ron said as he pushed his three friends out of the way. While Ron gazed at his wife’s milky flesh, Harry commented internally that all the red head needed now was food and the three things that he loved most in the world would be wrapped up in one.
After everyone had gotten a good long look, Luna finally pushed and squeezed her mounds back into the confines of her blouse. A few minutes later, after everyone regained their composure, Ron (who was much calmer now) brought up his sister’s pregnancy again.
“So, the day after we get home, Ginny pukes at the breakfast table,” Ron began, still wiping the drool off of his mouth with the back of his hand. “Mum grabs her by the ear and hauls her to the bathroom. Apparently, she had already figured it out but she wanted to run a few pregnancy test charms on Ginny just to be sure. And when Mum got the results, boy was she mad.”
“Speaking of which, you no longer seem that upset that Harry and Hermione didn’t tell you about Ginny,” Neville pointed out. “Why is that?”
“My breasts have a calming effect on Ronald,” explained Luna. “That was one of the reasons I wanted to expose myself.”
“Just one of the reasons?” asked Neville.
“Yes, for another, I like exposing myself,” Luna answered honestly. “It’s rather fun. And another reason is I like to give the girls a breath of fresh air every once in a while. It’s not good to keep them confined like ahard shelled-marlwomp.”
“Anyway, Mum starts shouting and wailing,” continued Ron. “She demands to find out who the father is and Ginny tells her.”
“Let me guess, Molly forced Neville to marry Ginny,” assumed Hermione.
“No, it was my idea,” Neville answered. “Mrs. Weasley fire-called my Gran and demanded we head over to the Burrow. I pretty much knew that Ginny’s secret had been revealed. So I decided to do the right thing and ask her to marry me right when I got there. Thankfully she said yes a second before her mum shouted ‘Damn right you will marry him, Ginevra. My grandchild will not be abastard!'”
“It was the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen,” Luna said in an extra dreamy way. “They had the wedding a few minutes later. Everyone was still in their pajamas and the vicar was in his bathrobe. Molly had floo’d over to his house and practically dragged him out of the shower for the ceremony.”
“How’d your grandmother handle it?”Harry asked the new groom.
“Surprisingly well,” Neville answered. “I think she was afraid that she was going to die before she got any great-grandkids.”
“Where’s Ginny now?” Hermione asked.
“The train ride made her so sick before that her dad got a Muggle auto from the Ministry and is driving her up to school.”
“That’ll take a while,” Harry said.
“Yeah but using the floo would be awful for her and I’m not even going to think about how bad the Knight Bus would be,” Neville commented.
“I take it Molly is still furious?”asked Hermione.
“Just a little; I think she’s excited about the baby but she won’t admit it,” Luna said.
“Yeah, and she spent a whole night yelling at Charlie, Bill, Fred and George. If Percy wasn’t such a prat and had been there, she would’ve yelled at him, too,” Ron said with a chuckle. “She said that they were dragging their feet in bringing her grandbabies. You should’ve heard how she moaned that she never thought Ginny would be the first one to be a parent and then yelled at my brothers for not doing their jobs. She hollered at Bill for not knocking up Fleur yet and even offered him some Fertility Charms. ‘I have one that makes the witch ovulate. Don’t make me cast it on Fleur when you’re not looking,'” Ron said in a high voice, apparently trying to imitate his mother (which he did poorly). “Then she screamed at Charlie and the twins for not even being married. George pointed at me and tried to throw me into the flames so to speak. ‘He’s married,’ George said, ‘yell at him.’ Mum cuffed him around the side of the head for that; hit him so hard she nearly took his ear clear off his head. ‘Luna, the dear,'” Ron began again in his dreadfully poor high voice.
“She did; she called me ‘dear’,” Luna said while beaming proudly.
“‘Luna, the dear, has another full school year after this one,’ Mum said. ‘You can’t expect her to have a baby while at school.'”
“Speaking of that, what’s Ginny going to do next year?” asked Harry.
“Well, she’s probably going to take the year off,” Neville said. “So she can take care of the baby. Me, my Gran and Ginny’s mum have offered to take help out so she can go back to school, but we’ll see what happens.”
“You do realize this means we’ll have to throw a baby shower,” Luna said with a happy smile. “Everyone’s invited.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, but I’m busy that night,” Harry said immediately.
“We haven’t set a date yet, Harry,”Luna pointed out.
“Yeah, I know. I’m just saying I’ll be busy doing something then,” Harry said with absolutely no subtlety. He had no intention of hanging around witches as they gushed over concepts like dirty nappies and stretch marks. “I don’t know what this thing is that I’ll be doing yet, but I know it will be vitally important and that I can’t go to the shower.”
“Whatever he’s doing, I’m with him,”Ron added.
“Yes, I’m sure I’ll need help in whatever it is that I’ll be doing,” Harry agreed.
~*~
Back at the castle and after supper, Seamus, Parvati, and Lavender walked up to Harry.
“Hey, mate, welcome back,” Seamus said, and added in a serious manner; “we need to talk.”
“What is it?” asked Harry.
“You’re in trouble,” Lavender answered.
“Why, that’s unusual,” Harry said lightly. “I’ve never been in trouble before. Let’s see; does an instructor want me dead? Or could it be the most feared dark wizard has put a price on my head?”
“No, we mean it,” Parvati said. “We’ve heard some pretty disturbing things over the holiday.”
“Go on,” Harry said. He was expecting that the three would say that the people outside of Hogwarts were acting frightened.
“We stayed in the castle this year because the three of us wanted to spend some time together,” began Seamus, completely countering Harry’s assumption that they were going to tell him about the state of the world outside. “Anyway, Malfoy has it in for you.”
“Yes, I know,” stated Harry.
“No, not like he used to have it in for you where he’d tried to get you expelled or the like,” Lavender corrected. “I mean he fancies you.”
“We got that impression before we left for the holiday,” Hermione said with a bemused smile. “It was obvious by the way Draco kept eyeing Harry.” She continued, clearly enjoying the fact that this topic made Harry squirm in his seat.
“Well, we kind of made it worse,”Seamus admitted sheepishly.
“What did you do, you little bastard?” Harry demanded angrily. He already had enough problems with Draco and didn’t need anymore.
“You see, we were just talking to him on Boxing Day and asked why he thought he was in love with you,” Parvati spoke with apprehension. “It turns out he had some sort of nervous breakdown shortly after he and Snape escaped after… well at the end of last year. He was amess and there were rumors that You Know Who was going to order his execution. Draco then told us he saw that Daily Prophet article way back during the summer holiday where you were at Ron’s brother’s wedding and said that you loved Draco.”
“That was a misprint,” Hermione interjected.
“We know that,” Lavender said gently. “But Draco thought it was true. He became so inspired that he escaped. Fought his way to freedom and all that tosh. And now that he’s back here at school, he wants to be, you know,with you,” she concluded with an extra emphasis on the phrase ‘with you’ as if to drive home the fact she was using a euphemism for “he wants to stick his erect penis up your rectum.”
“But I’m not gay,” Harry objected.
Seamus suddenly became chipper and said, “Believe me, we know,” as he nudged his elbow into Harry’s ribs. “We saw the Pensieves, you kinky sod.”
“Did you tell him about Harry and me?” Hermione asked.
“Oh yes, some of the other students chimed in as well. A bunch of us were telling him about those Pensieves,” Lavender answered. “So it wasn’t just the three of us but everyone who stayed over the holiday tried to tell him the truth.”
“And he didn’t believe you?” asked Harry. He was slightly surprised to notice that he wasn’t embarrassed or concerned about talking so openly about the Pensieves that most of his peers had seen. Either he was no longer ashamed over that fiasco or he was just more worried about Draco.
“We even told him you were the MPL,” Lavender said as if the initials meant something.
“MPL?” asked Harry.
“Master Pussy Licker,” the blonde witch explained. Harry shrugged his shoulders in acceptance; it was a better moniker than “The Boy Who Lived.” At least he earned the name Master Pussy Licker.
“He said that you were just confused, Harry,” Parvati said. “He then said that he’d show you what love truly meant.”
“Obviously, he’s still delusional from his breakdown,” speculated Hermione. “He must have built up this fantasy world centered on you, Harry, and won’t accept the fact that you’re not in love with him.”
“Just great,” muttered Harry. He thought to himself that this situation couldn’t get much worse.
“Then Seamus made it even worse,”Lavender said with shame. Harry groaned pitifully.
“I didn’t mean to,” Seamus weakly defended himself.
“What did you do?” demanded Harry.
“It was an honest mistake,” Seamus continued. “I was just trying to tell him how ‘not gay’ you are.”
“He said to Draco ‘The only way you’d ever get Harry is to tie him down and bugger him,'” Parvati stated.
“Then Draco said that was a splendid idea and he’d do just that,” Lavender added.
“For the love of God!” screeched Hermione. “You challenged a mentally unstable wizard to anally rape my boyfriend?”
“It was an accident,” the Irish wizard said, stepping away from the angry witch.
“I don’t think Malfoy will really rape Harry,” offered Parvati. “Ever since sixth year, he’s been nothing but a spineless twat.”
“Mind you, I think he’ll try everything short of tying you down to sway you,” warned Lavender.
“Is there anyway to transfigure my pants into iron?” Harry asked as he scanned the Great Hall looking for Draco.
~*~
While they walked to their chambers, Harry kept looking around frantically. He was deeply, deeply concerned that Draco might hop out of the shadows, while very naked and very aroused, to tackle Harry.
“What do you think my Mum did to get my Dad to accept her terms over the holiday?” Hermione asked, clearly trying to ease Harry mind and distract him. “I mean he was adamant about us not even brushing up against each other. But then Mum whispered in his ear and he automatically agreed to allow us to hold hands.”
“She offered to let him bugger her,”Harry replied while still eyeing every shadow suspiciously.
“What makes you think that?”
“I reckon that since you got your bum from her, the two of you like the same things.”
“Oh,” she uttered in acceptance. Then Hermione stopped walking, and her expression and voice turned angry. “You were looking at my mother’s bottom?”
“Yes,” Harry said without guilt. “It’s a rather attractive bum.”
“You cheeky bastard, you ogled my Mum’s bottom,” Hermione snapped. “How could you do that? I mean, she’s my mother!”
“Well, I did say that you got your glorious bottom from her. And I was using her posterior as a comparison of time,” Harry said with a crooked smile. “And judging by how well you Mum’s bottom has held up, I think it’ll be glorious for a good long time to come.”
“You think my bum’s glorious?”Hermione said with a glow to her cheeks – her upper cheeks mind you. Although, Harry assumed that the glow in Hermione’s upper cheeks meant that the witch wanted to be spanked so that her lower cheeks would glow as well.
The wizard stepped up to his witch and slipped his hands into her robes. His palms glided over her belly, around her back, and down passed her skirt. Then, with time honed skills gained by playing with her bottom, Harry slid his hands under her skirt and massaged her bum.
“You’re not wearing your knickers,”Harry said. This drew the attention of ‘Harry, Jr.’. The organ pressed against his trousers and was shouting, “Let me see! I wanna see knickerless-Hermione for myself!”
“They’re in your pocket, remember,” Hermione said and pushed her hips against his. “After we shagged in the train, I gave them to you as a memento.”
“Oh, yeah,” Harry said. His right hand left her bottom and retrieved the lacy garment from his robe pocket.
Once again, Hermione pushed her hips into Harry, this time grinding her body against his.
“You keep doing that and I’ll take you right here in the hallway,” Harry half threatened, half hoped.
“Promise?” she asked while still rubbing herself on him.
“That’s it, I’m going to push you on the ground and have my way with you,” Harry warned playfully. “Of course you’ve been rather vocal lately, not that I mind in the slightest, but if I’m going to shag you in the middle of the hall I don’t want to attract attention to us.”
“You can always gag me,” offered Hermione.
“Hot damn, you’re kinky,” cheered Harry as he momentarily lost his composure. After regaining his cool, he slipped back into character. “It’s a shame that the ball-gag is in my trunk,” he paused and theatrically held up Hermione’s knickers. “However, I do have these.”
“Oh, that’s dirty,” Hermione said, or rather what she had apparently wanted to say. Harry was uncertain because the moment she had opened her mouth and said “Oh,”he placed the edge of her knickers into her mouth, effectively silencing her.
While both were blushing madly, Harry continued to stuff the undergarment in Hermione’s mouth. And while he stuffed, Hermione had straddled his leg and was rubbing her naked flower on his trousers. Once Harry had successfully pushed the knickers in her mouth, Hermione began to pull down his zipper.
“I know you two have grown into exhibitionists extraordinaire, but you should really get a room,” a familiar voice suggested from behind Harry and Hermione. They turned and saw Courtney, the Auror in training, standing a few feet away from them. In a panic, Hermione tugged her knickers out of her mouth. “Hot damn, you’re kinky, Hermione,” congratulated Courtney.
“I swear to God they’re clean,”Hermione explained desperately as she shoved the garment into her pocket.
“Yes, but you’re not, you dirty little witch,” Courtney said, her tone indicating it as a flattering remark while a naughty grin appeared on her lips.
“Uh, Courtney, what are you doing here? I thought your tour of guarding the castle was up?” asked Harry, hoping that his question would direct attention away from what he and Hermione were just doing.
“I volunteered for another tour just so I could see things like what you were just doing,” the Auror in training replied. “Now turn her around, hike up her skirt, and give her a spank. I just know she has to like it.”
“Um, so why’d you volunteer?” Harry asked, hoping to divert the conversation.
“I just told you,” she returned. “Give her a whack.”
“I was being serious,” Harry pressed.
“So was I,” Courtney said. “It’s so bad out there in the real world. You kids in here aren’t terrified of your own shadow. You lot are loving and living, not like the people outside. I just needed to come back here, to reaffirm life, if you know what Imean?”
“Is it really that bad?” asked Hermione.
“Yeah, it’s pretty horrible,”replied Courtney with a frown. “People only leave their homes for work and nothing else. They’ve barricaded their windows and spend their nights in fear.”
“That’s horrible,” Hermione muttered.
“And that’s why I had to come back here,” Courtney continued. “It was so bad that they were starting to drag me down with them. I came to the castle because you kids aren’t like that. I mean, out there, you won’t see folks shoving their knickers into their mouths, no sir.”
Hermione turned a brilliant red. Trying to recover some dignity for his girlfriend, Harry lied “We’re not like that. It was just a, um, joke. A fluke really, if you must know.”
“Bullshit,” challenged Courtney. “I heard about the Pensieves. So I know that you two are kinky enough to be shoving each others underwear in your mouths.”
“You know about the Pensieves?”Hermione asked.
“Yeah I know about them. But I didn’t see them so I feel all sorts of left out,” Courtney said. “I know; you can make me feel better by giving her a whack right here!’
“No,” Harry said flatly.
“Why not?” asked Courtney.
“Despite everything you’ve heard, we’re not exhibitionists,” explained Harry.
“Aw, you two are no fun,” pouted Courtney. “Well I suppose I’ll just have to go to that bloke who can draw well, I think his name is Dean, and have him make some sketches of what he saw in those Pensieves for me. Ta-ta,” she waved goodbye and skipped away from the young couple.
“Do you suppose it’s true?” asked Hermione after Courtney disappeared around the corner.
“What, about being exhibitionists?”Harry asked then answered. “Yeah, Iguess so. Otherwise I reckon we would still be upset over the notion of having everyone see us being intimate through those Pensieves. And then I had your naked titties pressed against the window a few hours ago, basically showing everyone the train passed by your boobs. So, yeah, we are exhibitionists.”
“We also willingly made an instructional Pensieve for Ron and Luna,” Hermione added. “But that wasn’t what I was asking about,” she corrected. “I was wondering if she was right about everyone being terrified.”
“Yeah, she was,” Harry answered. “I meant to tell you, when Iwent shopping the other day, I saw a lot of people and they were exactly how Courtney described. And when I spoke to Alicia, she mentioned that no body had been in her shop for days because no one’s buying anything.”
“That’s awful,” Hermione said with sorrow. “I can’t wait for this war to be over. But for now,” she paused and pulled her knickers out of her pocket.
Picking up on her cue, Harry snatched the knickers out of her hand and slowly pushed them back into her open mouth. Next, he bent her over, tossed up her robes and skirt to expose her bare bottom, and gave it a swat. Hermione moaned playfully as Harry rubbed the red spot on her bum. The witch let out amuffled shout when he swatted her bum twice in a row. Harry was about to deliver another spank when he heard someone clapping in a slow and deliberate manner.
“That’s really a nice bottom, Hermione,” congratulated Courtney as she continued to applaud. Apparently, as Harry and Hermione were getting prepared, the Auror in training had silently doubled back and was now leaning against the wall a few feet away, watching the show.
“Tkint oop,” Hermione mutter through her knickers.
“She said ‘thank you,'” translated Harry. He surprised himself by not trying to cover Hermione’s naked bum. Of course, Hermione didn’t try to cover herself up either.
“May I?” Courtney asked while looking at Hermione’s bottom.
“Be my guest,” Harry said and stepped to the side, surprising himself once more. It seemed to Harry that Courtney was right; he and Hermione had become exhibitionists.
Courtney brought her hand down on the brunette’s backside with a resounding smack. “Nice and firm. Do you work out?”
“Ekz tha ksklez,” gagged-Hermione replied with obvious pride. “Halk tha skaits moot ah guk werthaut.”
“She said ‘it’s the castle, all the stairs make a good workout,'” again, Harry translated. “But I think it’s genetics as well,” he added. “Her mum has a splendic bum, too.”
Courtney gave Hermione another hard swat and said; “That was fun. You two can carry on now.”
As she walked away, Harry asked the Auror in training “Are you leaving for sure this time?”
“Nah, I was going to hide in the shadows and watch you shag her if you don’t mind,” she replied and walked into a dark alcove.
“Fine, just keep an eye out for Draco,” requested Harry.
“Gotcha,” Courtney said. “I don’t know who Draco is, but I’ll put up aDo Not Disturb Ward in the hall. That’ll make anyone turn around and walk away if they approach. Now get on with the sex, I’m impatient.”
“Damn, we’ve grown kinky,” Harry said to Hermione.
“Yek, eev hak,” agreed Hermione before Harry gave her another good spank.
As they proceeded to give a show, Courtney was unseen but not unheard.
“Are you using your legendary Parsletongue magic?” she asked as Harry worked on Hermione’s flower.
“Yes-s-s, I am,” he replied in Parsletongue. He then added with pride;”This-s-s is-s-s why I’m called the Mas-s-ster Pus-s-s-s-sy Licker.”
“Oh, that must tickle,” Courtney noted.
A few minutes later, as Harry and Hermione progressed, Courtney began giving helpful hints from her dark hiding place.
“Harry, grab her bum. That’s it, dig your fingers in. And Hermione, why don’t you give his nipple atwist. Good girl.”
And;
“When you’re all the way down, grind your hips into his, honey.”
Also;
“Nibble on his ear. Oh, wait, you can’t with those knickers in your mouth. Okay then, you nibble on her ear, Harry.”
Then as Harry was clearly about to finish, Courtney asked “Are you going to cum in her or on her?”
“What – ah- do you – oh -suggest?” he grunted.
“Good porn always ends with the bloke cumming on the girl,” she said. “That’s my boy,” she cheered as he fulfilled her request. “Now rub it in her skin.”
As the two lovers were catching their breath, Courtney sauntered up to the half-naked pair. “You make a really funny face when you cum, you know that?” she asked Harry.
“So I’ve been told,” he replied.
“Here you go,” she said handing aballed up item to the wizard. “You can add it to your collection.”
As she walked away, Harry unfolded the ball Courtney had given him to find that it was a pair of pink silk knickers.

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Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor
Chapter Twenty-Seven: 2, 3, 4, give me more.
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 Twenty-Seven: Harry and Hermione make up for lost time.
“I happen to have been enjoying that,” the ghost of Gryffindor said with annoyance as he pointed to the bulge in his trousers. He continued angrily; “Interrupting me like that was an incredibly rude thing to do. If my balls weren’t transparent, they’d be turning blue right now!”
“Do you think Icare, you nasty piece of filth?” Harry snapped. Harry wished, truly wished, that he could harm the annoying ghost at that moment. He wanted to show Gryffindor even a small amount of pain that he and Hermione were suffering. That,and the spirit’s antics had denied Harry anal sex. That was just low.
“We’re the laughing stock of the school,” Harry shouted. He made sure not to mention that Hermione wasn’t going to have sex until after this predicament was over; Harry knew that Gryffindor would revel in such information… particularly if it was about buggery.
“Trust me, boy, they’re not laughing,” the spirit said with a depraved smile. “They’re having sex or wankingoff – which is what I was about to do before you ruined the moment – but they’re definitely not laughing.”
“What did Ideserve to have you, a lecherous pervert, invade my life?” Harry asked rhetorically. “Not only did you spy on me and Hermione, but you passed around Pensieves from those invasions of privacy. Now, everybody in the castle has seen us together!”
“All right, boy, let me say this;” the ghost said gravely. “Yes, I did spy on you and your bird. You two are rather entertaining after all. In particular, that bit I was just watching there,” he said, gesturing to the silver liquid dripping down the wall. “Having her hook her legs behind her shoulders and then taking her while facing away, pure genius.
“But, and I cannot state this clearly enough, I. Can. Not. Make. A. Pensieve. Memory,” he said firmly.
“What?” Harry demanded.
“Think about it boy. If I could make Pensieves, wouldn’t I have shown you some of my more impressive exploits? Like the time I took a plump witch while standing on my head. Or when I sung ‘O, Britannia’ when switching between twins. Now that one was one of the higher points of my life and afterlife,” the ghost explained. “Besides, one needs a corporeal mind to extract Pensieve Memories. Sure, unlike a normal ghost, I have the fairly unique ability to affect the living, but my current status explicitly means that I no longer have a physical brain.”
Pondering over this statement, Harry realized that Gryffindor was telling the truth. Not so much in regards to the”corporeal mind” thing, but the ghost would’ve definitely done his best to scar Harry by showing him Pensieves of odd and perverted sex acts.
“Then… then who made those memories?” asked Harry desperately.
“Well, you could have watched the Pensieve and found out, couldn’t you? Walked around inside the memory and found the perpetrator,” the ghost speculated. “But that won’t work, will it? No, because you blew the damn thing to bits. Of course, if you hadn’t, you still would’ve had to wait your turn, because I was enjoying myself!”
“Oh, I’m sorry you couldn’t enjoy my suffering,” Harry snapped bitterly.
“Your suffering?” the ghost asked with asnide grin. “Aren’t you overreacting a bit, you melodramatic ninny?”
“Nearly everyone in this school has seen me and Hermione having sex!” the young wizard shot back.
“So what?” returned Gryffindor. “I would be proud if I were you.”
“But you’re not me. I’m not a pervert.”
“I’m not talking about the joys of sharing -which is loads of fun; especially’trains.’ That’s where once one bloke is done with a bird, you plow in; getting his stuff and hers on your junk. It’s all hot, wet, and sticky,” the spirit rambled. “I’m talking about making people happy.”
Harry was about to protest, but the ghost forged ahead.
“Sure everybody’s seen that funny face you make when you cum; where your left eye bulges and your right’s all squeezed shut while your mouth is open like a wide-mouthed troll. And most everyone has renamed your bird ‘April Showers’ behind your backs ’cause she’s a bit of a gusher as you well know. But you’ve missed the important thing here. You’ve made your peers truly happy,” the ghost said with a surprising amount of sincerity – in regards to the bit about being happy that is, the letch was smiling like the kneazle who ate thesnidget when he had said the word “gusher.” “I’ve been coming – and cuming – to this school for centuries; it’s a good place for an old voyeur like me to get his jollies. And I can say with certainty; I have never seen the students as happy as they are at this moment and it’s all thanks to you.”
“You’re telling me that everyone is perverted and they like to watch?” Harry asked bitingly. The thought of everyone wanking to the image of him and Hermione made his stomach turn.
“Harry, there’s a war going on,” Gryffindor said with a gentle smile. “People are dieing. And by all rights, these kids should be frightened. But they’re not. They’re running down the halls laughing and being happy. And you showed them the way.”
“I think you’re the one overreacting now,”Harry retorted.
“Am I? Harry, you and your wonderfully nimble witch have shown everybody that they should live their lives despite the war,” the spirit explained. “You two are in love and living your lives. Almost in spite of the tragedies around you. And through these Pensieves, you’ve told everyone to do the same, in effect.
“Also, you’ve help knock down the silly House rivalries,” the ghost continued. “There is a lot more interaction, both socially and scholastically, between the Houses now.
Harry thought over this for a moment. Had the Pensieves really done so much? Did everyone have hope because of him and Hermione? And he was also shocked and impressed by Gryffindor’s insight. From this conversation, Harry started to respect the ghost for his compassion and insight. Then Gryffindor dashed that respect to pieces with his next statement.
“For example; there’s this sixth year Slytherin, a blonde with gorgeous melons, and she’s dating blokes from other Houses. A year ago, she would’ve been ostracized for even talking to someone outside of Slytherin. That Slytherin witch is simply wonderful. After she watched one of your Pensieves, she took a sixth year Ravenclaw in her mouth, a fourth year Gryffindor in her bum, and two fifth year Hufflepuffs in her cunny… at the same time!” the spirit said with reverence. “Heavens, Harry my boy, you should’ve been there!”
Harry tried to fight the unconscious need to picture what Gryffindor had described. The thought of that many penises relative to the number of available entrances was somewhat disconcerting to the young wizard.
“It was glorious, two wizards, dueling one another with the wands their parents gave them in the same tight cave. It was epic,” the ghost said in awe. “She was covered in man juice at the end.
“Oh, look at that!” Gryffindor said, pointing at the bulge in his trousers. “Look who’s back. Maybe Ican find that Slytherin witch again and catch another show.”
The ghost waved at Harry before turning and trotting out of the room, humming happily to himself.
Harry eyed the silvery liquid as it dripped down the wall. He didn’t know if Gryffindor was right about his theory about the Pensieves making everyone happy, but the perverted ghost was certainly right about one thing. Harry could’ve entered the memory and found who was recording his and Hermione’s intimate moments.
The young wizard was drawn out of his thoughts when Gryffindor stuck his head back into the room.
“Oh, and if you do find out who’s been spying on you, tell me,” the ghost requested. “He’s a fellow perverted pilgrim and I’d like to shake his hand. Perhaps he and I can share stories… or even hand-jobs.”
~*~
To say that Hermione was worried about the still-unknown pervert spying on them was an understatement. When Harry had returned to his room, he found his girlfriend wearing a high-neck sweater, a pair of slacks and an ankle length skirt (at the same time), as well as two robes, one over the other. It was clear that the witch was worried to show even an inch of skin in fear that their unseen pervert would distribute the image all over the school. Harry, too, was just as frightened. The idea of anyone watching him and Hermione set him on edge.
Needless to say, this put a damper on Harry’s love life. The couple was afraid to do anything besides kiss lightly – and even then, they looked around to make sure no one was watching. Neither one daring to do more with each other in fear of the act being shown to their peers through Pensieve Memories.
Harry’s resolve lasted for two full days before ‘Harry, Jr.’ began to protest. No one could blame the member, just a few days before it had been promised an exciting new adventure with Hermione, in her dirty place no less, only to have the offer cruelly rescinded. While in the shower, ‘Harry, Jr.’ would gaze up at its friend with a pleading look in its eye, begging him to have a romp with Hermione. But Harry fought the urge, he needed to root out the voyeuristic pervert and make him or her stop before he could be intimate with Hermione again. ‘Harry, Jr.’ didn’t give a damn about any pervert; all the organ cared about was going into Hermione – any entrance would do at that desperate point – and dropping off a sticky package or two.
Added to Harry’s discomfort, every time he walked by a closed door, whether a broom cupboard or classroom, he could hear moans of passion emanating from the room. Apparently, the Pensieves had become incredibly popular to the point that it seemed that every student in the school was having sex… except for him. On two separate occasions, Harry heard “Maximus Intellegentia!” being shouted, meaning that his peers were performing the Wit Enhancing ritual. ‘Well, at least they’re learning something useful,’ he thought to himself.
On the third day after the confrontation with Gryffindor, a very sickening discovery was revealed to Harry. A very happy and bright, nay, downright joyous and radiant Professor Sprout bounded up to Harry. Smiling broadly, the plump professor said, “I know this is inappropriate for me to do, Mr. Potter, but I must thank you. Horace and I have found your instructional Pensieves to be,” at this point, the elder witch’s eyes began to twinkle wildly like sparkles, “well, rather exciting. It took a bit of effort, but Horace and I were able to perform the Wit Enhancing ritual.”
Suddenly, Harry felt very queasy. The mental image of Professor Sprout contorting herself into a twisted pretzel was unappealing, but on an infinitely worse scale, was the image of Professor Slughorn naked, much less shagging. In his mind’s eye, Harry saw the corpulent man, naked and sweating, thrusting away. The fat man’s face was a bright puce and his eyes were screwed shut in ecstasy. His fat was rippling in waves like the sea during a storm, sending his sweat showering all around.
“One hundred points to… no wait,” Sprout chirped. “One thousand points to Gryffindor!” she said with a flourish, and skipped away.
~*~
Ron and Luna joined in Harry and Hermione’s quest to find the pervert. But unlike Harry and Hermione, who were subtle in their inquires of their fellow students (asking simple, open questions such as “Have you seen anything interesting lately?”), Ron would walk up to someone and demand, “Have you seen my best mates go down on each other?” To which Ron got several different unhelpful responses, including “Not yet” and “Are you offering to let me watch?” Unfortunately, one time Ron had asked his question after leaving Dean and Seamus. The younger student being questioned “Have you seen my best mates go down on each other?” assumed that the red head had been referring to Dean and Seamus, leading to an embarrassing rumor about the two wizards.
Over the course of the next several days, Harry and Hermione were able to discern that their peers didn’t know who was giving them the Pensieves. They would wake up to find the Pensieve waiting for them on their bedside table. Or find the memories already set-up upon walking into a previously empty room. Also, during this investigation, Harry and Hermione were proposed to several times, asked to sign over a dozen autographs, and offered to watch a number of couples have sex so that they could give helpful pointers. Several witches and wizards actually began to strip in front of Harry and Hermione while suggesting an impromptu session of group sex.
~*~
One afternoon, Harry’s thoughts were drawn away from his worries about the Pensieves floating around and, to him, the more important building pressure in his loins caused from lack of intimacy, when he heard a student announcing to one of their friends:
“Draco Malfoy and his mum are in the castle!”
Knowing that Malfoy and his mother were meeting with Professor McGonagall in regards to being allowed to return to Hogwarts, Harry made his way to the Headmistress’office. He waited patiently in the hall in a dark alcove a few feet from the hidden entrance. A few minutes later, McGonagall and the two Malfoys exited the office. From his hiding place, Harry watched.
Narcissa Malfoy looked like a wreck. The witch had heavy dark rings surrounding her eyes and her once neatly quaffed blonde hair was now dirty and unkempt; sticking up at odd angles all over her head. A very noticeable facial tick had developed, it caused her to squeeze one eye shut and scrunch up her face every few seconds. Worst of all to the outside observer was the enormous lump on her leg. The growth, hidden by Mrs. Malfoy’s robes, trembled and made squeaking sounds. Harry fought the smile that was threatening to crack his face; Kreatcher was still doing his job. Harry had commanded the foul little elf to continuously molest Mrs. Malfoy’s leg and obviously it had wreaked havoc upon the pompous witch.
Draco, as opposed to his mother, looked very happy, jolly even. He had a full smile and a glow to his cheeks. Harry had never seen Draco with this expression before. Previously, when Malfoy smiled, it was always malicious or cruel; but this smile was genuine and kind. The young wizard’s attire was different as well. Instead of his normal outfit of black, silver and dark green, Draco was wearing a bright lime green cravat, periwinkle blue robes, and brilliant pink creepers. The blond wizard’s hat was flamboyant yellow with sparkling red stars.
“Thank you for your…” Mrs. Malfoy began to say to McGonagall but the unseen House Elf attached to her leg let out a loud groan accompanying asquirting sound. Mrs. Malfoy shivered violently and let out a bark like sob before composing herself. “Thank you for your time, Headmistress.”
With that, Mrs. Malfoy, with a slight limp, led her son away. Draco followed his mother with a noticeable prance to his step.
Once they were out of sight, Harry moved up to McGonagall.
“How’d it go, Professor?” he asked.
With a chuckle in her voice, the old witch replied, “Oh, Mr. Malfoy will be returning next Monday.”
“But I thought that you were going to discus this with the staff, me, and Hermione?”
“Mr. Malfoy proved to me beyond any doubt that he’s changed,” McGonagall said with a heavy dosage of mirth to her voice. “Changed in several ways, I might add.”
“But, Professor, Istill think he’s a threat,” he protested.
“Changed man, Potter,” the Headmistress reasserted. “In several ways.”
The witch had put an odd emphasis on the phrase “in several ways” and gave Harry one of her disturbing saucy winks. As Harry shivered in discomfort, McGonagall turned and walked back into her office. Once the Gargoyle moved back to cover the stairwell, Harry heard McGonagall’s riotous laughter through the stone.
Harry was upset, to say the least. Not only was he denying himself sex, but now he’d have to deal with that evil git Malfoy returning to school. He had looked forward to the meeting that McGonagall had promised. He was planning on arguing why Draco shouldn’t be allowed to return. But now, McGonagall nixed the meeting and had given Malfoy the go ahead to come back. Harry grumbled under his breath all the way back to his chambers.
“McGonagall’s letting Malfoy come back,” he informed Hermione who was still wearing multiple layers of clothing.
“Big whoop,” she said moodily, her heavily clothed arms folded across her chest.
“How can you dismiss this, Hermione?” he demanded. “McGonagall is letting a marked Death Eater, who at the very least participated in the attack against Hogwarts and in the murder of Dumbledore.”
“Because I’m randy as hell,” she shot back hotly. “I need to be shagged rotten and we can’t do it because some pervert is watching us!”
Harry slumped his shoulders. He, too, was desperate; there was nothing he wanted more than to feel Hermione. The thought of making Hermione moan caused his organ to twitch.
“I’m just sorry Iblew up that Pensieve,” he admitted, wishing that he could satisfy himself. “When I saw Gryffindor watching it, I was positive he was the one.”
“In a way, it made sense,” Hermione offered. “Despite the fact he doesn’t have a corporeal brain to extract memories from, Gryffindor can turn invisible. And obviously, the person watching can turn invisible, otherwise we would’ve seen them.”
Harry nodded his head. The person spying on them was either very good at casting a Disillusionment Charm or had an Invisibility Cloak.
Just then, as if by some Divine Intervention, some movement caught Harry’s eye. He watched as Dobby the House Elf trot around in the shadows, tidying up the place. He found it odd how the tiny creature could be so inconspicuous that he was barely seen. Then, Harry remembered a peculiar incident from a few weeks previously; he had peered into Dobby’s cupboard and seen shelves upon shelves of glass vials each filled with silvery liquid.
“Dobby, could you come here, please?” Harry asked, his voice even and patient unlike his demeanor which was beginning to become angry.
“Yes, Harry Potter sir,” the elf squeaked happily as he walked out of the shadows.
“Have you been watching us?” the wizard asked.
“Of course, Dobby be a good House Elf and good House Elves always be watching so’sthat we’s can be assisting whenever we’s can,” Dobby explained. “If you’s needs laundry, Dobby be ready. If you’s need food, Dobby be ready.”
“What are you getting at Harry?” Hermione asked. Harry knew that if Hermione had known about the glass vials in Dobby’s room, she wouldn’t have asked.
“Now Dobby, Iforbid you from punishing yourself, but have you been watching Hermione and Imake love?” clarified Harry.
The elf’s ears flattened against his head and he fidgeted, as if wanting to rush to the wall, to bash his head against it. With a tiny and meek voice, Dobby answered, “Yes.”
Hermione shot up and stared with wide eyes at the House Elf.
“Did you pass around Pensieve Memories to the other students?” asked Harry calmly.
Again, Dobby trembled and squeaked “Yes.”
“Why?” Hermione asked.
“Because Dobby is a bad House Elf,” Dobby said mournfully. “Harry Potter Sir and The Great One are more betterthan Dobby’s last Masters in every way; you’s are kind and wonderful, but you’s are also pretty and have fun romps. Former Master and Mistress would just have angry romps. Mistress would always say that Master would only care about himself cumming, that’s why Dobby had to finish her off.
“But Harry Potter Sir and The Great One love each other and it was wonderful to watch. Unlike former Master, Harry always makes sure The Great One has fun too,” the elf admitted. “It was so wonderful that Dobby began making Pensievesso that Dobby could watch the beautiful fun romps whenever Dobby wanted to.”
Harry and Hermione shared a look. Dobby had spied on them not only out of perversion, but innocence as well. The couple had been offended that their privacy had been invaded, but Dobby had done so for some odd sweetness.
“But why did you pass the Pensieves around?” asked Harry.
“Dobby saw how Harry Potter sir’s and The Great One’s Pensieve about licking the bald feline had helped Weezy and Weezy’sbig boobied missus and Dobby be thinking that alls the students in the castle could use help,” the tiny creature explained. “Weezy and Weezy’s big boodied missus were so happy that Dobby thought the other students should be happy as well. Dobby thought that since Harry Potter sir is such a great wizard and that Harry Potter sir has a saving people thing that Harry Potter would want to help as many people as he could.”
“So in order to help as many people as you could, you began to deliver them to everyone?”Hermione asked nervously.
“Yes, Oh Great One,” Dobby replied. “And it do be helping people. Just look at Colin Creevy’s not gay brother; he is now with the pretty twin from Ravenclaw. And hairy former roommate of Harry Potter sir is with blonde tramp and pretty twin from Gryffindor at the same time. It do be helping everybody!
“But Dobby knows that Harry Potter sir and The Great One do be humble, which makes them even more greater, so Dobby be delivering the Pensieves in secret.”
Harry and Hermione shared a look. They both knew that Dobby had no real clue about the damage he had caused. Clearly, Dobby knew he was in trouble for some reason judging by Harry and Hermione’s mood, but the creature had no understanding as to why. To him, he had done a great deed in Harry and Hermione’s names by sharing the Pensieves with everyone. And if Harry or Hermione tried to explain that Dobby had done something bad, the elf would surely punish himself in a terrible manner. There was a good chance that Dobby would hurt himself irrevocably. If Dobby had shared the Pensieves knowing what they would do to Harry and Hermione’s reputation, then the couple would not have been overtly distraught over the notion over punishment. But since Dobby had done it out of innocent naivete, any sort of self-punishment would be harsh. So, Harry took time to carefully consider what he would say to Dobby so that the elf would not harm himself.
“Um, Dobby, that was a very nice thing,” Harry said slowly. “But from now on, Hermione and I would like our time together to be private. That means you can’t pass the Pensieves that you made around anymore. And you can’t watch us be intimate together.”
“Yes, Harry Potter sir,” the elf squeaked. “But Harry Potter sir, can Dobby be watching the Pensieve Dobby already made if Dobby can’t be watching Harry Potter sir and The Great One do naughty things?”
“Um, Hermione?” Harry asked and turned to his girlfriend. The young man was quite surprised to see that Hermione wasn’t looking at Dobby but at Harry himself. Her eyes were dark with lust and she was biting her lip. Knowing that look meant that their forced time of “no sex” was about to end within seconds, Harry said dismissively to Dobby, “Sure, knock yourself out. Watch them as many times as you like.”
Dobby trotted to his little room and the instant the cupboard door closed, Hermione pounced on Harry. There was no kissing, no caressing or any foreplay to speak of. The only clothing that was removed was Hermione’s slacks – and they weren’t even removed completely, the garment dangled from one of her ankles. Harry was still wearing his robes, pullover, slacks, socks and shoes whereas Hermione was wearing two sets of robes, a blouse, skirt, and loafers. Harry’s zipper was opened and Hermione’s knickers were pushed to the side to reveal her flower a scant moment before Harry plunged into her.
If someone had been watching – which luckily this time, no one was – they would have assumed that Hermione and Harry were in a fight to the death. And that the witch was winning the battle. She had the wizard pinned under her and was thrusting her hips forcibly onto his lap. Loud smacks and grunts echoed off the walls. Evidentially, Hermione rather liked this action because she climaxed a few minutes after starting.
“Oh, fuck, Iforgot something,” Hermione groaned as she continuously pounded herself on Harry. While thrusting up and down rapidly, the witch fumbled through the pockets of her outer robe. “Don’t cum yet,” she ordered and began to search blindly through her inner robe’s pockets.
“Hurry up,” Harry pleaded. His body was begging for release and he was about to lose control any second.
Finally, Hermione retrieved her wand. She tapped it against her lower belly and incanted “Inaedifico.” After she had properly cast the Anti-Conception Charm, Hermione said “You can cum now.”
“It’s not a command sort of thing, really,” Harry groaned out. “I can’t just will myself to cum.”
“I meant it’s all right to cum now,” she clarified breathily and Harry grunted as if one cue. Hermione’s face lit up.
“That was fun,”she purred.
“Round two,” Harry said and rolled over, dragging Hermione to the floor so that he was now on top. Instantly, he began thrusting into her,
“OH -that’s – OH – my – WOW – virile – RIGHT THERE – man!” Hermione cheered.
“I haven’t had sex in days,” he grunted like a wild animal. “I figure I have at least another round or two in me.”
Harry tugged and pulled at Hermione’s robes and top. After a few moments, he finally tore open her blouse only to reveal “TWO BRAS!”
“I’m sorry – UH – I was – OH – worried about the pervert,” Hermione explained between thrusts.
“Damn it,” hissed Harry as he tugged at the lacy bra that covered the cotton one. “I want to give ‘Natasha’ a kiss.”
“‘Natasha’? Wait, did – HOMMINA – you name my titties?” she asked throatily while Harry fumbled with her unmentionables.
“Your nipples, actually,” he admitted without shame. “This one,” he said, indicating her other breast, “is ‘Carmella’.”
“Did – OH – you – MAMA – name my muff?” she asked as Harry finally freed ‘Natasha’ from its lace and cotton prison.
Realizing that he only referred to her vagina by its technical name or ‘flower,’ Harry answered with a simple “No,” while suckling on Hermione’s boob.
“UH – name – OH SHAG ME SILLY- my – SO FUCKING NICE – muff – NOW!”
After commenting internally to himself at how very vocal his girlfriend was, Harry pondered over her request. Should he give it another feminine name? Then he remembered that the House Elves called it ‘The Bald Feline’in worship. And Harry rather liked going down on aforementioned body part. So, he combined his love of eating Hermione out and ‘The Bald Feline’ and came up with the perfect name “Miss Nibbles.”
Hermione seemed to appreciate the new name for she called out in a significantly loud voice; “POUND ‘MISS NIBBLES’ WITH YOUR COCK!”
“Please, if you call it ‘Miss Nibbles’ I must insist you call my ‘cock’ ‘Harry, Jr.’,”corrected Harry.
“POUND ‘MISS NIBBLES’ WITH ‘HARRY, JR.’!” rectified Hermione. It was, after all, the proper phrasing for the situation.
A short while later, Hermione cried out her ubiquitous “OH SWEET BABY MAEVE!” and Harry congratulated himself on his prowess a second before he himself came. Having played twice in a row, ‘Harry, Jr.’ was beginning to fall asleep. As his organ softened, Hermione looked up at Harry with a mad twinkle in her eyes and said, “If you’re up for another go, you can bugger me.”
With the word”bugger” ‘Harry, Jr.’ sprang to life- quite literally; it rose so quickly that it jerked inside Hermione.
“Oooh, I’ll take that to mean that you’re ready,” she said coyly. Gingerly, Hermione removed herself from Harry and began to undress. “I’ve done some research on anal sex,” she began.
“Of course you have,” Harry joked, knowing that Hermione never did anything without proper research.
She spent the next few minutes explaining what they had to do. Harry nodded his head at each point: cleaning, lubricating, and stretching. ‘Harry, Jr.’ too nodded its head at each point. Now that the plan was set, Hermione moved herself so that she was on her hands and knees. Harry used his wand to cleanse her entrance (to which Hermione gave out a surprised yelp) and conjured some clear lubricant. Next, he coated his forefinger and Hermione’shole with the lubricant, spreading the slippery liquid while gently stretching her open. Then Harry slid in a second finger. That was when Hermione began to rock back and forth. Harry watched in wide-eyed fascination as Hermione writhed and groaned in pleasure.
“And just think, you told me once that we’d never do this,” he commented.
“I was such afool,” she groaned out. “Now keep stretching me out, I want you inside me.”
Two or three minutes later, Harry felt it was ready to move on to the real deal. Slowly, ever so slowly, Harry pushed into her tight hole. He closed his eyes and marveled in the sensation of her heat and tightness. Inch by inch, he forced himself in. Finally, when he was completely inside of her, Harry opened his eyes.
Hermione’s skin was a florescent red and she was trembling all over. Harry could tell that she was also holding her breath.
“Are you okay?” he asked; ready to pull out if she said she wasn’t.
“Oh – FUCK YES!!”she screamed out.
“Don’t forget to breathe,” he commanded, relieved that not only was his girlfriend all right, but that he could continue to bugger her.
“Call me a dirty slut who likes to be bum-shagged,” she commanded in response.
“Okay, just don’t forget to breathe, you dirty slut who likes to be bum-shagged.”
To say that Hermione enjoyed the activity would be a dreadful understatement. She cried out “Sweet baby Maeve!” twice in aloud voice; pronouncing each syllable clearly. The third time was a little less coherent and sounded something like”Seat Maybe Pave.” The fourth was just nonsense and syllables strung together. Harry assumed that she was drooling profusely at that point. He couldn’t confirm this because Hermione, obviously, was facing away from him. At first, he believed that it wouldn’t be polite to ask her if he was shagging her so well that she was drooling – one didn’t ask a woman such things. Then, he realized that he had his willy jabbed into her bum and therefore politeness was moot; so he asked.
“Is my dirty slut who likes to be bum-shagged drooling?”
The only response Harry got was a noise akin to someone blowing spit bubbles and happy moans. The last thought Harry had before his own ecstasy claimed him was ‘Damn, I’m good.’
~*~
It took Hermione two whole days to stop walking with a limp. The silly smile plastered on her face didn’t wane for three. On the fourth day, as they ate breakfast in the Great Hall, Ron bemoaned the fact that his nemesis, Draco Malfoy, would be returning in just three days.
“This bloody sucks,” he cursed and speared a kipper angrily.
“Harry told me that McGonagall reassured him that Malfoy’s changed,” Hermione said. It was clear that she barely believed the words herself.
Harry recalled that McGonagall took a great deal of amusement over the notion that Draco had changed. Remembering the Headmistress’saucy wink, Harry shivered in fear of what she had meant by that statement.
The morning post and Daily Prophets were carried into the Great Hall. As she read one of her text books, Hermione absentmindedly paid the owl that had dropped a copy of the Daily Prophet at her plate.
“Hey Harry, Hermione, my Mum and Dad have invited you two to the Burrow for Christmas,”announced Ron.
“Um, well, I was thinking about spending it with my parents this year,” Hermione replied. “It seems like I never spend any time with them ever.”
Hoping to avoid being invited to going with Hermione to her parents, Harry pointed at the folded Daily Prophet and asked “Are you going to read that?”
“No, not just yet,” she replied. “You can have it.”
After snatching the paper and unfolding it, Harry smiled, happy that he had avoided an invitation. But the moment he read the headline, Harry’s heart sank.
“Death Eaters Attack St. Mungo’s
A team of seven masked Death Eaters raided and sacked the wizarding hospital St. Mungo’s late last night. No one was severally injured during the attack, but the minions of He Who Must Not Be Named made off with a large supply of healing potions from the hospital’s storage.
An anonymous informant from the Ministry has speculated off record that YouKnow Who and his followers may have stolen the potions for an upcoming large scale battle.”
“Something has to be done,” Harry said morosely.
“What is it?” the brunette witch asked, fearing the worst.
Harry handed her the paper. She read it quickly, her face a mask of dread. But for some indiscernible reason, her appearance suddenly brightened. She smiled knowingly at Harry and said “Oh, something will be done. Don’t worry, Harry.”
“What do you have planned?” he asked.
“You’ll see,” she answered cryptically. “It will all depend on the outcome of an errand I’ll have to run during lunch. But if everything works out, ‘something will be done,’ trust me.”
Hermione refused to elaborate on her plan. Later, as the couple was making their way to the Great Hall for lunch after morning lessons, Hermione kissed Harry on the cheek and said, “I’m off to run that errand.”
“You want me to come with you?” he asked. “I can help.”
“No, I think it will be better if I go alone,” she said and waved her hand. “See you in a bit.”
Without another word Hermione dashed down the corridor heading for the castle’s door. Curious about what his girlfriend was up to, Harry continued on to the Great Hall. He was quite surprised when he entered the Great Hall. There, sitting at the Gryffindor table with Ron and Luna, was Hermione. Furrowing his brow in confusion, Harry sat next to his girlfriend and asked, “Weren’t you supposed to run some secret errand?”
“I’ve done it and come back already,” she informed him.
“How could you have? I just left you about a minute ago.”
“That can’t be, Harry,” Luna said in a detached way while she scooped some of her food from her plate to Ron’s thereby saving her husband from having to nick food from her plate. “Ronald and I got here early and Hermione was waiting for us. And we’ve been here now for at least five minutes.”
Harry looked at Hermione in bewilderment. In response, the brunette witch smiled and winked at him. “You’ll understand tonight,” she said coyly.
Harry couldn’t focus on his afternoon lessons. His mind kept wandering to what errand Hermione had done and how it would help retaliate against Voldemort. As if to irritate Harry even further, Hermione refused to even acknowledge that she had even run an errand.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Harry,” she had said during dinner with a naughty smile. “Ron and Luna told you I was here in the Great Hall the entire time.”
That night, after supper, Harry and Hermione entered their chambers.
“Are you going to tell me what you did today?” he asked.
“Oh, you’ll see,”she said with a devious smirk.
Before he could ask any further questions, Hermione trotted into the bathroom. Harry shook his head. ‘That girl’s aching for a spanking,’ he thought to himself.
A pungent smell caught Harry’s attention. He followed his nose to the spare bedroom and opened the door. He found Hermione standing over a simmering cauldron.
“Wait, how did you get in here?” he asked, deeply confused. “I just saw you enter the loo.”
“Surely I had to pee,” she said off-handedly and poured a pink liquid into the cauldron. “I do that from time to time.”
“But I didn’t see you leave the loo,” he protested.
“What can I tell you, I’m quick,” she replied casually. “Now leave, this is complicated and I can’t have you messing it up by distracting me.”
Harry walked out and closed the door. The moment the door snapped shut, he heard it lock magically. Wondering why she was being so mysterious, Harry sat on the couch and contemplated what Hermione was doing.
It had something to do with the Death Eater attack they had read about this morning. Hermione had told him that she had to run an errand but he found out that she didn’t because she was waiting for him in the Great Hall. And now she was brewing some kind of potion.
A half hour later, Hermione came out of the bathroom. Harry was about to ask how she left the spare room and entered the bathroom without him seeing her, but her attire – or the lack of attire – drove that question from his mind. The witch had slowly strolled out of the loo wearing nothing but a scarlet colored scarf wound around her eyes like a blind fold.
“I happen to be the luckiest bloke in the world,” Harry beamed. Joyous thoughts about how kinky Hermione was swirled through his head. Perhaps he’d bind her hands, give her a good spanking, and then make love to her. “I have such an adventurous girlfriend.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Hermione said but her lips didn’t move. Harry blinked, confused. Not only did she not move her mouth, but the voice was coming from inside the spare bedroom.
“Did you just throw your voice?” he asked.
“I didn’t say anything,” Hermione said, this time her lips moved with the words. She pointed to the spare bedroom and added”She was the one who spoke.”
Just then, another person walked out of the room. Harry’s eyes bulged in wonder. The person looked exactly like Hermione, same hair, same jaw, same breasts, same shaved Miss Nibbles. The only difference was the second witch was wearing a green blindfold.
Blindly, the green-blindfolded Hermione walked up to the one wearing a scarlet scarf. Her hands fumbled a bit before cupping the other girl’s face. Slowly, the two identical looking witches kissed. It was a soft and gentle kiss, but far from innocent.
“Wow, I’m a good kisser,” scarlet scarf Hermione commented.
“Then you’ll like this,” the green scarf Hermione said and began kissing her doppelganger once again. But this time the witches obviously became more comfortable, their tongues came into play. Harry could see one girl’s tongue slide into the other’s mouth. That was enough to send Harry over the edge. The image of seeing his naked girlfriend kiss another witch who looked exactly like her (especially the naked bit) made the wizard lose control. With a primal grunt, Harry fell off the couch and came down his leg.
“What just happened?” scarlet-Hermione asked.
“He just shot his load down his trouser-leg,” the green replied. “Thank goodness I made plenty of stamina and virility potions.”
“Wh-what’s going on?” Harry asked.
“That errand I ran today was to fetch a Time Turner. I went to the Ministry and got one. Actually, Igot it through a time paradox, but you’ll see,” Hermione replied. “I figured that I’ll just use the Time Turner to make duplicates of myself, in a fashion.”
“Not duplicates really,” the green-Hermione corrected. “I just happen to be a future version of you.”
“True,” agreed scarlet-Hermione. “But ‘duplicate’ is easier to say than ‘my future self,’ especially since our mouths will be busy in a moment. We don’t want to waste time by saying ‘future self’ when ‘duplicate’ is much more time saving.”
Normally, Harry wouldn’t bother to ask the reasoning behind Hermione’s decision, particularly seeing that the outcome meant he just got to watch Hermione tongue-kiss herself, but curiosity got the best of him. “How? What? Why?”
“The ‘Morgy Ritual,'” scarlet replied. “With the Time Turner, I can make duplicates of myself. That way we can have multiple partners and perform the ritual without asking another couple to join us.”
“Yes, and Ialready drew the symbol and identified the targets as people bearing the Dark Mark,” green added. “So all we have to do now is have some fun.”
“Why are you wearing blindfolds?” Harry asked. He was honestly surprised that he could form coherent sentences at that moment. “Is it some sort of Paradox thing? You can’t see your past self or something?”
“Well, that’s one reason,” scarlet answered.
“That and I, or rather we happen to be very kinky,” green added.
“So… I get to have sex… with both of you… at the same time?” he asked in a near delirious state. “Manage a three-way,” Harry muttered in absolute awe at the sight in front of him; two versions of Hermione, one wearing a scarlet blindfold and the other green, standing shoulder to shoulder.
“That’s menage a trios, Harry,” green blindfolded Hermione corrected.
“Actually, bump that up one,” Hermione’s voice came from the bedroom shortly before a third copy of the brunette witch strolled out. She adjusted her yellow blindfold before taking her place next to her two doppelgangers.
Harry’s head started to spin slightly. To him, this could not get any better. Then a fourth Hermione, this one wearing a blue blindfold, walked out of the bedroom.
“Oh-my-God,” Harry half groan, half whimpered. His green eyes, which were sparkling in delight, shot from one Hermione to the next. “Two… four… six… eight… eight titties!”
“He can still count,” commented blue-Hermione. “That’s a good sign that we haven’t given him an aneurism… yet.”
“Eight titties,”repeated Harry.
“Are you saying we’re going to give Harry an aneurism?” scarlet Hermione asked her future selves.
“Eight titties; that means eight nipples. Four ‘Carmella’s and four ‘Natasha’s. Eight!”Harry cheered and a bit of drool dribbled out of the corner of his mouth.
“Make that ten,” a very familiar voice called out from the bathroom. This time, a Hermione wearing a purple blindfold walked out. But before she took her place with her identical peers, a sixth Hermione with a white blind fold sauntered out and announced “Actually, twelve titties.”
As a Hermione with a white blindfold walked out of the bedroom, scarlet Hermione commented “Five copies? Did I get that daring to have six of us?”
“Yes, I figured why stop at just four of us,” white-Hermione said, “or five for that matter.”
“Besides, you’ll need the extra help soon,” green-Hermione added.
“What do you mean?”asked scarlet. “I made plenty of stamina and virility potions, but I think that five of us could handle one Harry.”
“You’ll see,” one of her future selves answered.
“Let’s have some fun,” white-Hermione said. Blindly she grabbed green and blue’s hands and led them to Harry who was still sitting on the ground. She arranged her copies around Harry so that one was on either side of him and one was in the front. Then, as if they had planned it, all three Hermiones leaned forward, pressing their breasts into Harry’s face. The poor boy was suffocating in breasts. He thought “What a wonderful way to die; choking on boobs.”
“He doesn’t need avirility potion just yet,” one of the three smothering Harry said. “I can feel his willypressing on my calf.”
“Girls, girls, back up,” one Hermione from across the room requested. “I want Harry to see this.”
As the wall of breasts that had covered Harry’s face parted, he caught a much more spectacular view. Sitting on the couch, with her legs spread wide, was scarlet Hermione. Propped up next to her was yellow Hermione. The yellow blindfolded version’s hand trailed up the scarlet witch’s thigh toward her snatch. It was the next second that Harry’s heart stopped beating.
“It’s kind of like masturbating,” yellow commented as another of her fingers came into play. “I mean this is my vagina technically speaking.”
“Someone take care of Harry, the poor boy’s about to blow up,” one Hermione suggested.
“Does it have to be ‘someone’?” blue asked, placing extra emphasis on the ‘one.’
Blue and green Hermione got down on all fours and placed their faces over Harry’s engorged organ.
“today is the happiest day of my life” Harry squeaked in an incredibly tiny voice. Harry proved how manly he was by lasting a whole forty-two and three quarter seconds before cumming for the second time. It was truly a manly act seeing how he was watching one version of Hermione stimulate another version while two others licked and suckled his bits.
“Did you just swallow?”blue asked green.
“Yes, I did,”green replied.
“That was very rude,” blue chastised. “Next time, share.”
“Someone mentioned stamina potions,” mumbled Harry. It seemed that he had very poor control over his motor functions and speaking was difficult.
“Yes, Harry, there’s a bunch in the spare bedroom,” three Hermionesanswered in unison.
As Harry staggered and stumbled to the bedroom, he overheard one Hermione comment “Hmmm… I wonder what ‘Miss Nibbles’ tastes like?”followed very quickly by another Hermione yelping in surprise.
The young wizard held his hands on the sides of his head like blinders. He knew that if he saw what he thought was happening behind him, he’d most likely die from pure joy. Although it would be a nice way to go, he’d rather last a bit longer. Perhaps even be between the two versions of Hermione while they did what he thought they were doing. Hell, he’d like to give them pointers. Yes, he reasoned, dieing while participating would be a much better way to go than just watching.
But to be able to participate more, he’d need that stamina potion. ‘Harry, Jr.’, despite the ample amounts of naked Hermionesencouraging him, was fast asleep. Obviously the things he had just seen and having received head from two Hermiones was just too much for the member. Also the thought of pleasuring six Hermiones was intimidating. So Harry needed as much help as he could muster.
Lying on the table next to the cauldron were three dozen small bottles containing a bright red liquid. Clearly these were the stamina and virility potions that Hermione had made. Harry quickly gulped downed one bottle and was about to head out the door when a glimmer of light caught his eye.
He found a tiny gold Time Turner sitting on the table just behind the bottles of potion. Harry smiled as a devious thought occurred to him. If Hermione could use the magical device to make duplicates of herself, so could he.
Much like one of the reasons Hermione had donned a blind fold – besides being kinky – Harry didn’t want to tempt a paradox, so he decided to wear a blind fold as well. He found an old school robe lying over a chair and quickly tore off a length of it. After wrapping it around his eyes, he reminded himself to use the Time Turner sometime in the future, perhaps in the morning, and return to this time. Just then, Harry heard a pop.
“Hi, Harry,” a masculine voice greeted him. “It’s me, Harry, from about nine hours in the future.”
Another pop and someone announced “I from twenty hours in the future.”
Another two pops sounded, one after the other. Then the cupboard in the corner of the room creaked open.
“Don’t remove your blindfolds,” another Harry commanded. “I’m from a few days in the future. I sort of helped Hermione get the Time Turner.”
“Really, how’d you do that?” the current time Harry asked.
“You’ll see,” the other replied. “I’ve been hiding in this cupboard, waiting for you blokes to show up.”
“Well now that you’re all here, let’s go ravish some Hermiones,” one Harry cheered.
Harry felt a tap on his shoulder followed by a suggestion in his own voice “Let’s double team one of them?”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“You know, two blokes, one bird, no waiting,” he answered.
“Do you think she’ll mind?” the current time Harry asked.
In response, all the other versions of Harry laughed uproariously.
“All right, everybody take a dose of the potion,” one ordered. “We’ve got a lot of witches out there and we need to be ready for repeat performances.”
After a bit of fumbling and a few bottles clinking together, everyone was ready. Harry knew this because someone was poking him in the side and it wasn’t with their finger. “Do you mind? Budge up.”
“Okay, we’re all ready?”
“Yeah,” was the chorused answer.
“Then let’s do this for justice!”
“Wait, ‘justice’?” one asked. “What do you mean?”
“We’re performing the Morgy Ritual,” another answered. “We’re inflicting pain on Death Eaters.”
“Oh, I thought we were doing this for mad sex.”
“Good point.”
“Okay… let’s do this for justice and mad sex!”
With that battle cry, the multiple Harrys charged out of the room(Harry heard one or two of his counterparts bang into walls).
“It’s about time you got out here,” one Hermione stated. “Some of us started without you.”
“Hermione, uh, the Hermione with the scarlet blindfold, that is., remember when I said you’d need the extra help of five copies,” another Hermione said. “Well, you’re about to find out first hand just what I meant.”
What followed was a loud and rambunctious, almost chaotic, orgy. Bodies pressed against one another. Fumbling limbs and screaming orgasm.
The current Harry was able to fulfill one of the future Harry’s suggestion of “double teaming” a Hermione. Current Harry was on the bottom (and in the bottom), future Harry was on the top, and Hermione was sandwiched between (and Harry guessed that it was the current time’s Hermione because of the future Hermione’s playful warning about needing the extra help). And Harry understood now why his future selves laughed when he asked if Hermione would mind. The witch was shouting loudly the word “Yippie” and the phrase “Oh Fuck Yes!” repeatedly.
“Now, this is how you properly share,” one Hermione stated a few minutes later. This version of the brunette witch sounded as if she was holding something, perhaps a kind of liquid, in her mouth.
“Yum, thanks. Now I see what you were saying,” a different Hermione, who also sounded like she now had something in her mouth, said.
When everyone had climaxed (which gave the room a peculiar aroma), one Hermione asked; “Wait asecond, how many Harrys are there?”
“Dunno,” a Harry, one who sounded like he was somewhere near the end of the couch, replied. “Lost count.”
“All right then, sound off,” she demanded. “Count yourselves.”
“One,” the first Harry called out.
“Two.”
“Three.”
“Four.”
“Five.”
“Six,” a final Harry called out.
“Okay there are six of each of us,” concluded one Hermione.
“Um, actually, there are seven Harrys,” another Harry announced. “When everybody was counting off, I had my mouth full.”
“Damn right you did,”another Hermione said in a breathy and satisfied voice.
“Fine then, that makes thirteen of us all together,” one Hermione stated.
“And the ritual only listed the effects up to six participants,” another Hermione picked up. “I added another ‘me’ just to give it a little boost.”
“And if six participants meant the targets felt as if they were on fire and there are thirteen of us…” a third Hermione continued.
“That means the Death Eaters must be begging for mercy right now,” a fourth concluded.
“Well, I know everyone here will be disappointed, but thanks to the stamina potion, I have another go left in me,” one Harry announced with mock concern. “Damn thing won’t go down.”
“Oh, no, so do I,”another Harry stated. “Lousy erection.”
“Me too,” a third fake pouted. “It’s just sitting there throbbing away.”
“Me three. Oh, what can we do?”
“Aren’t you other four going to add anything?” a Hermione asked the darkness. “Perhaps some crude comment about being ahuman ring-toss or hat-stand?”
“One of them isn’t verbally telling me he has another shag left in him,”one Hermione grunted happily. “He’s showing me; and quite admirably at that.”
“Hey, Hermione, you have something in your mouth,” one Harry pointed out. To which the Hermione he was speaking to responded:
“No I don’t-gth mumh ghiz,”she sputtered as if something had been pushed rapidly into her mouth.
“You boys be careful and check your aim,” one Hermione offered. “You don’t want to poke the wrong person.”
As if on cue, one Harry shouted “Ow, damn it. Watch out.”
“Sorry,” another Harry apologized.
“Try going a foot to your left.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s it!” a Hermione cheered. “Dead on target!”
“Thanks for the suggestion,” one Harry said to the other. “I think I found it.”
MultipleHarrys, multiple, Hermiones, and multiple orgasms. Overall, it was a very good night.
~*~
All over the British Isles that night, screams were heard. And not just from the Head Students’quarters.

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Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor
Chapter Five
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 Five Summary: Things get revealed at the reception… along with Harry and Hermione’s relationship.
“Harry, what’s going on?” Hermione implored while tugging on Harry’s arm as he stomped over to the laughing duo of Remus and Tonks. “What did that old witch mean about a menu? And why are those two laughing?”
“Because HE…” Harry hissed and pointed an accusing finger at Lupin, “is a Marauder!”
“He… he…” stammered Hermione while looking between Harry and Remus. “He pranked us?” she asked of Harry. Before he could respond, she turned to Remus and asked, “You pranked us?”
“Guilty as charged,” confessed Remus in-between peals of laughter.
“You… You lousy prat!” Hermione shouted, her face twisted with rage. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”
Harry was about to join Hermione in her tirade when he noticed her features soften. Her rage-filled expression transformed into the same look she had at the beginning of every class they shared. The look clearly showed her desire of learning something new.
“How did you do it?” pleaded Hermione.
“By discretely placing Confundus/ Charm/ on the two of you before we sat down,” Remus stated, finally controlling his laughter. Tonks, however, continued to laugh hysterically. In fact, Harry thought that she appeared to be on the edge of soiling herself.
“Oh Merlin that was brilliant!” declared Tonks. “Seeing how much goo Harry had on his face yesterday, you must squirt like a fountain Hermione!”
“Shut it, Tonks!” Hermione ordered and then turned her attention back to Remus. “But a Confundus doesn’t work that way-” Hermione began. Luckily for Harry’s sake, she did not see him silently nod affirmatively to Tonks’ comment. Hermione did in fact, squirt like a fountain.
“That’s why I applied Pilliwickle’s Theory to the charm,” informed Remus.
“That can’t be right, either. Pilliwickle’s Theory only relates to /Memory Charms/…” Hermione began to argue, but trailed off as she suddenly got a look on her face as if she was doing complex long division in her head. After a moment, she announced her understanding with a simple, “Oh, yes, that could work.”
Harry picked up Hermione’s dropped anger, “You still nearly gave us heart attacks!” He was still mad at his former DADA professor for the prank. Harry was also a little mad because he had no idea who Pilliwickle was nor any theory named for him so he felt left out of Hermione and Remus’ discussion which made him a touch bitter. “We thought everyone saw what we saw!”
“It was better than what Tonks had planned for you,” Remus defended himself, and Tonks abruptly stopped her riotous laughter. “She wanted to hook up a magical projector to a Pensieve and show everyone here in attendance just what it was that she saw yesterday morning.”
The two teens gasped at the mental image of a holographic rendition of themselves hovering over the reception party; their naked bodies intertwined for everyone to see. Harry realized that if Tonks had done just that, quite a large contingent of the wedding party would be shocked to say the least. He reckoned that the motherly Mrs. Weasley would faint, Ginny would more than likely sob, and Ron’s face would become red with rage. However, Harry imagined that Fred and George’s reaction would be more along the lines of “Nice form mate,” and “Didn’t you get a crick in you neck doing that?” Both Harry and Hermione turned their attention to Tonks. The eternally pink-haired Auror recoiled at the visible anger in the two teens’ eyes.
Harry and Hermione’s verbal assault on Tonks for her loathsome plan was prematurely aborted when a lanky red-head wizard stepped in Harry’s way and blithely said, “Hi, Harry!”
Ron, after greeting Harry, turned his attention to Hermione. Ron’s face got very red and a hopeful glint shined in his eyes. “Hello there, Hermione,” he greeted in what he assumed to be a seductive manner. Harry thought it would’ve been more seductive if Ron hadn’t stammered and even more so if his voice didn’t hitch and crack slightly.
Behind him, Harry could hear Hermione make a small “eep” noise out of panic. The bespectacled wizard forgot his anger toward Remus and Tonks as he looked at his two best friends. Ron, his best mate, was obviously very happy, for he was literally hopping in place as he looked at the brunette witch. Hermione, however, looked like she was on the verge of a stroke-inducing panic attack.
Harry remembered that Hermione wanted to be the one who told Ron about their newfound relationship, and that she said that she had an intricate plan on exactly what to say and how to tell him. She probably had even gone as far as to draw diagrams in her daily planner. But the look in Hermione’s eyes told Harry that not only did she forget what she had planned to tell Ron, but that she was about four steps beyond nervous, well into terror territory.
Hermione looked between Harry and Ron nervously, once, then twice, but on the third nervous glance, she spotted something in the distance. Harry followed her eyes to a small, furry, purple creature, sitting on a low wall near the house. It took Harry a moment to recognize it as Arnold, Ginny’s pet Pygmy Puff. Hermione tore her eyes away from Arnold to stare at Ron. A very long and silent moment later, Hermione looked back at Arnold and with a hint of panic in her voice, announced, “Oooh, look a tribble!” She then promptly scurried away like a frightened mouse toward Arnold, leaving Harry alone with Ron.
“What’s a tribble?” asked Ron, who looked a little perplexed but was still hopping in place like an idiot.
“It’s a Muggle thing,” Harry answered simply as he saw Hermione pet, in an almost frantic way, the brightly colored creature.
“Whatever. Anyway, you owe me, mate,” Ron declared as he playfully thumped Harry on the shoulder. Although the thump was less “playful” and more “painful”; apparently among many things in his life, Ron didn’t know his own strength.
“Owe you for what?” Harry asked as he rubbed his soon to be bruised shoulder.
“You owe me for interrupting a perfect moment,” began Ron. “When you Owled Hermione the other day asking her for help, I was about to ‘/dodge the second bludger/’, if you know what I mean.” Ron concluded this statement with a saucy wink. At that moment in time, Harry realized that he would be more than content if he never saw Ron give him a “saucy wink” ever again. It was even more disturbing having his best male friend give him a “saucy wink” than it was when McGonagall had given him the “saucy smile.”
“No,” Harry answered trying not to shudder at the inappropriate wink, “I don’t know what you mean. Not in the slightest.”
“You know…” Ron said impishly and made a rather rude hand gesture as if he was cupping a breast, either that or kneading dough — Harry wasn’t too certain.
“Oh,” Harry replied. He was stunned. He and Ron never spoke before about things like fondling boobs, especially Hermione’s boobs. Ron, being Ron and not noticing Harry’s stunned expression, walked over to the table where Tonks and Remus were at and sat down in Hermione’s vacant seat. As Ron picked up the purple pamphlet, he gestured for Harry to sit next to him.
“Beef stew, blood pudding, grilled heron, and spotted dick,” Ron stated clearly to the menu. After four plates with copious amounts of food piled on them appeared in front of Ron, he handed the pamphlet to Harry. “Eat up, Harry.”
Harry looked at the pamphlet once more. Unfortunately all he could see was the same practical joke that Remus had engineered. His eyes involuntarily focused on the phrase: “…/Ms. Granger is inclined to get very wet/ …”
“Ugh, I don’t care much for the heron at all,” Ron said as he pushed one of the plates away from him. “But I heard the trout’s supposed to be pretty good.”
“Oh, I know Harry likes red /snatch/-er, whoops slip of the /tongue,/” Tonks said with far too much emphasis on “/snatch/” and “/tongue/” and still had that damned devilish look in her eyes. “I meant to say ‘red snapper’.”
Harry groaned pitifully at Tonks’ crude behavior and Remus deftly changed subjects before Ron caught on. Of course, knowing Ron, the only way the red-haired wizard would catch on is if Harry explained Tonks’ statement by saying “Tonks caught me eating out your girlfriend.” He tends to be a bit slow you see.
“So Ron, what have you been doing with your holiday?” the not-so-former-Maurarder-because-he’s-still-pranking asked
“There’s not much to say,” Ron responded, “except for me and Hermione getting together.”
“What?” Remus and Tonks blurted in unison. They looked at Harry questioningly. Apparently, they didn’t know that Hermione and Ron had started dating around Dumbledore’s funeral (which, Harry thought unflatteringly, as everyone knows, is a great place to pick up birds). Nor did they know that Hermione soon realized that she and Ron had absolutely nothing in common, whereas she and Harry had a great deal in common. With a simple shrug of his shoulders, Harry tried to tell them this all, and more importantly to Harry, just how perfect and special Hermione made him feel.
“Yeah,” replied Ron to the two so-called adults’ query, oblivious to Harry’s non-verbal interchange with Remus and Tonks. “We were getting to know each other in a ‘/more than friends/’ way, if you know what I mean. But then Harry had to ruin the moment because he needed Hermione for something.”
“Oh,” Tonks said aloud, as if it all made sense to her now. Which of course, judging by the confused look she had on her face, it didn’t.
“Excuse me, everyone,” Charlie announce from the head table, inadvertently putting an end to Ron’s awkward conversation. “It is my privilege as Best Man to introduce to you Mr. and Mrs. William Weasley!” The guests all clapped and cheered as Bill and Fleur walked onto the dance floor. “Let’s watch the happy couple as they take their first dance as man and wife!”
Screeching music started to play, although Harry wasn’t able to determine
where it came from. The Bride and Groom began to waltz elegantly around the dance floor.
“I can’t wait to dance with Hermione,” Ron declared while scanning the crowd, trying to find the witch in question.
“Don’t you know you have to dance with Ginny first?” Remus asked, attempting to diffuse the increasingly tense situation.
“Dance with my sister?” Ron retorted scathingly. “We’re not Welsh!”
Remus sighed dejectedly before continuing: “The first dance is for the Bride and Groom. Everyone joins the new couple for the second dance. However, the members of the Bridal Party have to dance with their partners first.”
“But who’ll dance with Hermione while I-” Ron began to weakly argue his case to which Harry responded a bit too quickly and too energetically:
“I’LL DO IT!” he shouted.
“Thanks Harry, I knew I could count on you.” Ron said proudly as he, again, playfully thumped Harry on the shoulder. “Well, I guess I’d better go find Ginny,” Ron continued as he stood up. He turned to Harry and pointed at the shorter wizard and threatened him in a mocking way, “Now, don’t you go and try to steal my girl now!”
“Okay, I won’t…” Harry whimpered pathetically. Giving Harry the “thumbs up” signal, Ron turned and went to find his sister.
Harry looked at Remus and Tonks who both still looked like they were in shock. With a weak shrug towards Remus and Tonks, Harry left the table to find Hermione.
It didn’t take Harry long to find her. He found Hermione by the low wall with Arnold, the Pygmy Puff. She seemed to have her entire focus on Arnold and was still petting him; one could even describe her motions as “pathological petting.”
“Hey, you okay?” Harry cooed as he walked up to her.
“I’m so sorry, Harry,” Hermione began, still petting the useless tribble-like creature. “I had it all planned out: what to say to him and how I’d say it. But when I saw him, I completely froze up.”
“S’okay, I know how that feels,” said Harry. “Would you like for me to tell him?”
“No, I should be the one…” Hermione replied. “I’m just waiting for the proper time to do it. I don’t think it would be good to tell him here. Could you imagine the scene that he would cause?”
“Maybe we’ll tell him tomorrow, then” suggested Harry, to which Hermione replied with a nod. In the distance, Harry heard the song for the first dance end. “Would you care to dance?”
Hermione blushed slightly before responding: “I thought you’d never ask.”
The two quietly made their way to the dance floor. Slow pleasant music filled the air (though to Harry, it was still a little screechy like all wizarding music). Harry took Hermione in his arms and began to dance. They danced in slow circles around the floor, passing Remus and Tonks who were lost in each others eyes.
“They seem so happy together,” Hermione commented while they watched the older couple. “As if they were made for each other.”
“Yeah,” agreed Harry. “Who saw that coming? I don’t even recall them even sharing a conversation last year.”
After Harry and Hermione had slowly danced away from Tonks and Remus, Hermione said to Harry in a dulcet tone: “You do realize we’ll have to get them back for that prank, don’t you?”
“Oh, yeah,” replied Harry in an equally sweet manner.
The next couple they saw dancing were Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.
“Oh, Hermione dear,” Mrs. Weasley said as they danced closer to Harry and Hermione. “Thank you so very much for that impassioned blessing you gave earlier.”
“Err… um… ” stammered Hermione, very embarrassed at the memory of her outburst earlier. “You’re welcome, Ma’am.”
The two teens glided across the floor, away from the Weasleys.
“Speaking of the ‘/blessing’/…” Hermione began. “How did you do that?”
“How’d I do what?” Harry asked as innocently as he could.
Hermione got up on her toes so that she could whisper in his ear; “Make me have a screaming orgasm just by touching my hand?”
“Oh, that,” Harry muttered. He was hesitant to tell Hermione about his ‘/special book/’ because he knew that Hermione would want to take the book from him so she could read it for herself (she was like that when it came to books). And he was still reading it. So Harry resolved to himself that he would keep the book a secret just a bit longer and came up with a feeble excuse. “I didn’t do anything, it must’ve been nerves.”
“‘Nerves’?” she asked disbelievingly. Hermione then added in an alluring way; “Well that’s too bad. I was sooo hoping it was something that you did, because then I could repay you in kind. But seeing how it was just ‘nerves’ on my part…”
“Repay me how?” Harry asked, losing a bit of his resolve due to Hermione’s tone.
“Why should I repay you if you did nothing?” she asked rhetorically. Hermione then did something very unexpected. While biting her lip, she pulled away from Harry slightly and tugged the front of her gown down a touch so the top of a very exciting looking black lacy bra, along with a nice expansive view of her cleavage, was revealed. Upon seeing the top edge of the aforementioned bra, let alone the sight of the wondrous flesh, Harry’s resolve of secrecy was completely forgotten. As a matter of fact, his resolve wasn’t the only thing he forgot; he also happened to forget his own name.
It was at this point that ‘/Harry, Jr./’ woke up and took over those pesky thought processes for Harry. The fifth appendage poked Hermione in the hip as if to inform her that her plan to get Harry to tell her his secret had worked.
“I found a boob… uh boo… book. I um mean I uh found a book in the um restricted section…” Harry rambled in a monotone as a little bit of drool threatened to escape his mouth.
Hermione pushed her bosom against Harry’s chest, causing her breasts to push up and almost (‘/Harry, Jr./’ seemed to pray) out of her gown. He so desperately wanted to pull the gown down the rest of the way and ravish her boobs with his mouth.
“Can I see this book later?” Hermione asked, knowing the answer. She knew the answer already because she playfully ground her hips into ‘/Harry, Jr./’, causing the organ to swell even more. This action assured the proper response.
But before Harry could groan out a primal and heartfelt “yes,” he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned and saw two mops of flaming red hair.
“Mind if we cut in?” Ron asked. Before Harry could respond, Hermione was torn from his grasp and was quickly replaced with the girl who physically resembled his /mother/!
Harry looked to Hermione for a plan; she was after all the smartest witch in their generation. She could easily formulate a plan to get him out of the predicament of a slow dance with the girl who physically resembled his /mother/! Alas, Hermione had the same look of desperation in her eyes as well. Hermione quickly disappeared into the crowd with the lumbering red-headed lummox.
Ginny started out by going up on her toes to whisper in Harry’s ear “I hope you don’t mind, but I plan on using this dance to change your mind about us.” Right after she finished her statement, Ginny attempted the same tactic Hermione had tried just moments before. She shoved her chest into Harry’s in an attempt to show off her meager cleavage and shortly there after began to grind her boyish hips into his.
Normally, Harry would have been mortally embarrassed because Ginny would have noticed ‘/Harry, Jr./’. She would have noticed because the bugger was, just previously, fully awake and raring to play “/hide-and-seek/” with Hermione. Luckily for Harry though, when he saw the girl who looked like his /mum/ shove her boobs into his chest, ‘/Harry, Jr./’ instantly lost all interest. But to say that the organ simply “lost interest” was a bit of an understatement. It would be more to the point to say that ‘/Harry, Jr./’ lost so much interest that he grabbed his luggage and went on a little holiday to visit one of his relatives up north, the spleen.
“C’mon Harry,” Ginny implored in a throaty tone as rubbed her chest against his (one might argue that the word “breast” should have been used, but seeing that she hardly had any boobs, others would be more correct by arguing that “chest” is the proper word to describe it). Her hand slid down his back, inching her way to his bum. “You know I could make you a very, very happy man…”
“Um, Ginny…” squeaked Harry. “I really don’t think….” The young wizard broke out in a cold sweat and tried to force himself to tell the girl who looked like his /mother/ that he was no longer (thanks be to every possible deity) interested in her. He thought that he was doing a fairly decent job at it as well, seeing how he was succeeding in fighting the urge to run away. He was successful that is until Ginny licked her lips ravenously and squeezed his arse.
That’s when all of Harry’s remaining cool fled from him. With a manly shout of “GAH!”, Harry smacked the shiny haired girl’s hand away from his posterior and ran like a frightened child. Ginny was left standing dumbfounded in the middle of the dance floor as Harry pushed his way through the crowd. He desperately needed air, he felt like he was suffocating. As he reached the edge of the dance floor, a panting Harry noticed Ron walking up to him.
“You okay, mate?” Ron asked as he took his place besides Harry. “You look like you were attacked by a vicious, bloodthirsty beast.”
“Practically,” answered Harry, finding Ron’s analogy somewhat fitting.
“Well, it looks like we both have to sit the next dance out,” Ron continued while Harry tried to catch his breath. “Hermione’s mental, I tell you. We were just talking about stuff then she tells me that she wants to talk about us. And I thought that was a great idea and I told her what I’d like to do to her later…” Ron ended his eloquent statement by making the same rude “kneading dough” gesture from before. “Then she sees Arnold again and runs off talking about ‘troubles’.”
“Tribbles,” Harry corrected.
“I’d just like to start off where we left off the other day, is all.” Ron whined. “It was great, Harry,” Ron stated in an overzealous tone. “We were in my room when we started to snog…”
Harry remembered Hermione’s recollections of that day and realized that Ron was embellishing a bit.
“… she then moaned in my ear ‘/you’re so wonderful, Ron/’…”
It was this point that Harry realized that his friend wasn’t just embellishing a bit, he was utterly delusional! Harry desperately wanted to tell Ron about his and Hermione’s relationship so Ron wouldn’t embarrass himself further, but he knew that Hermione wanted to be the one who broke the news to him.
“I know I shouldn’t tell you this Harry, seeing how you’re single now and you’ll get jealous but,” Ron beamed with masculine pride. “… I felt her up! It was fantastic! It’s like I’m a man now!”
Harry wanted to yell at him: ‘/You felt her up? Big Deal! / /You didn’t even see her even a little naked, I saw her very naked! And as for fondling her, I felt her up very properly. Right before I ate her out!/’
“Mind you, I do prefer blondes,” Ron said as he stared dumbly at Fleur, who was standing behind Luna Lovegood as the two girls waited to pour themselves their drinks from the bar. “Maybe I could get Hermione to dye her hair?”
“I like her hair the way it is!” Harry protested. “It’s a part of who she is!’
“I thought you liked red-heads, like Ginny?” Ron questioned roughly, taken back at Harry’s impassioned tone. Harry shuddered at the memory of running his fingers through Ginny’s red hair, the same hair color as his /mother’s/!
Harry shook his head in an attempt to rid his mind of those disturbing images and looked up and saw that Hermione had joined the line to get a drink.
“I knew you’d be jealous,” Ron stated.
“I’m not jealous…” Harry began to argue when he saw Ginny sneak up behind Hermione as she approached the bar for her own drink. The red haired witch pulled a small glass vial out of her robes and inconspicuously poured its contents into Hermione’s cup. Obviously, Hermione didn’t see Ginny or notice the younger witch pour the mysterious liquid into her cup, because Hermione filled the tampered cup up with pumpkin juice and started to raise it to her lips. Terror coursed through Harry at the thought of Hermione drinking whatever it was that Ginny had poured into her cup!
Harry reacted purely on instinct. He whipped out his wand and shouted in a clear and very loud voice, “/ACCIO HERMIONE’S CUP!”/
Now, something strange happened. Harry clearly stated that he wanted to Summon Hermione’s cup, but for some odd reason, his magic misunderstood him. Instead of Summoning Hermione’s drink cup like he had commanded, Harry’s magic Summoned Hermione’s /B-cups/.
With a sound of tearing fabric, Hermione’s lacey, black bra flew from her bosom and into Harry’s waiting hand. Harry gulped when he saw Hermione’s shocked and angry expression. He gulped because he saw her wondrous boobs as well- he thought idly that her boobs giggled quite nicely. Hermione quickly recovered and grabbed the fragments of her dress and covered her exposed flesh. Luckily, everyone’s attention had been on Harry because he had shouted, and no one saw Hermione’s embarrassment. Everyone that is except for Ron.
“Merlin,” Ron muttered out in a stunned tone, “I think I saw one of her nipples…”
A small part of Harry’s brain internally pondered on what Ron had said and asked, ‘Did he see ‘/Carmella’/ or ‘/Natasha’/?’
The one positive effect of this disastrous event was that Hermione had dropped her drink that had been spiked by Ginny. Of course the main effect of this disastrous event wasn’t positive and it could possibly lead to Harry’s death. Or even worse, never seeing Hermione naked again! This negative effect was Hermione’s rage, and it was directed at Harry. The raven-haired wizard gulped once more, this time in plain fear, under the icy gaze coming from his definitely more-than-a-friend friend.
Recovering his senses, Harry quickly pointed his wand at Ginny and shouted “/ACCIO GINNY’S VIAL!”/ The small glass container popped out of Ginny’s pocket and flew into Harry’s waiting hand, the same hand that was still holding Hermione’s enticing bra, mind you.
Harry stormed up to Ginny and shoved his left hand in her face while pointing his wand at her with his right. “What is this?” Harry demanded loudly.
“Err… Hermione’s bra…” Ginny offered innocently, as if she had done nothing wrong.
“No, not that,” Harry spat as he pulled the undergarment out of his hand and discreetly pocketed it (he reckoned that if the “Accio” incident was going to ruin his chances with Hermione, at least he would have a souvenir). He then shoved the glass vial in the red head’s face and demanded: “What is this?”
“N- Nothing,” Ginny defended, “it’s just water.”
A large group of people, including Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Slughorn, had gathered around to see what the commotion was all about.
“Pardon, if I may?” Horace Slughorn offered as he walked up to Harry. The younger, skinnier wizard handed the vial to the older, obese wizard. Slughorn held the vial up to his nose and inhaled deeply. A surprised look appeared on his face. “Oho, this is a Lust Potion… what are you planning on doing my dear?” he asked, turning to Ginny.
“A Lust Potion?” Hermione asked, “Harry, what was she doing?”
“She poured this into your drink,” explained Harry and all the color from Hermione’s face drained away.
“It was… It was only a joke,” stated Ginny.
“My dear, a Lust Potion isn’t something to trifle with,” Slughorn said gravely. “It causes the person who drinks it to lose all of their inhibitions when it comes to physical passions. It’s very similar to Love Potions if only much milder in its duration…”
Harry suddenly recalled the conversation he had with Hermione a few days ago; she had said that she had acted strangely the previous school year, that she “felt compelled” to start dating. Then a question hit Harry, was the reason Hermione had “felt compelled” to date Ron and her strange behavior during the last year all because Ginny had poisoned her?
“How many times have you poisoned her?” Harry demanded.
“Just this once,” Ginny stated in a very convincing way. “I told you it was just a joke!”
“That’s a very sick idea of a joke, young lady,” Molly chastised her as Hermione looked like she was about to break down and start sobbing. At first, Harry believed Ginny’s statement that she had only done it once and was about to drop his line of questioning when another realization dawned upon him. He remembered two years ago, when he had arrived at Grimmauld Place and saw first-hand how Ginny could lie in a very convincing manner. He recalled that he thought at the time that she would make a good actress because of her ability to lie. ‘She was a good liar!’
Harry suddenly realized that he couldn’t trust Ginny’s word, not when it came to Hermione’s well being. He had to see if Ginny had been poisoning Hermione; he had to do it for Hermione’s sake.
Harry knew that he would have to force the truth out of Ginny somehow and he only knew of two ways of doing that. The first was to use Veritaserum, but that potion was regulated by the Ministry and he doubted that he could get his hands on it. The other way was fairly dangerous, and he had not been trained in it at all; he had only been trained how to defend himself from it. But he had to see if Ginny was lying, he had to do it for Hermione.
Once more, Harry leveled his wand at Ginny and declared, “/Legilimens//!”/
A migraine inducing swarm of images and emotions flooded Harry’s brain. Image after image flew past him, like he was watching some horribly edited film. Harry forced himself to concentrate on Ginny’s thoughts and images relating to Hermione and potions. The first dozen images that rushed by Harry dealt with Hermione tutoring Ginny with her Potion Essays. But then, he saw an image of Hermione in Muggle clothes at the Burrow and saw Ginny indiscreetly pour contents of a glass vial into Hermione’s tea cup. The last image Harry saw before breaking the connection was a repeat performance from just moments before, when both Ginny and Hermione were standing in line, waiting for a drink.
Harry lowered his wand and fell to his knees; his brain felt like it was threatening to pop out of his skull in the most horrific and gruesome way possible. Ginny, by the looks of it, was suffering from a similar headache.
The group that had gathered around was staring at Harry and Ginny in stunned silence.
“When did you give her that first dosage?” Harry asked. A scowl appeared on Ginny’s face at Harry’s question. Harry asked again: “You gave her the Lust Potion sometime ago. When was it?”
“A few days ago, when you Owled her for help,” Ginny replied through gritted teeth.
Harry heard Hermione gasp aloud. He turned to face her and saw that she had tears streaming down her face. “Hermione….” began Harry. Hermione looked at Harry with absolute terror in her eyes. Before Harry could do anything, Hermione dashed toward the Burrow. Tonks and Remus quickly gave chase.
“Hermione, wait!” Harry implored and began to follow her when a small hand grabbed him by his arm.
“Don’t you want to know why I did it?” Ginny asked, her face twisted with anger. “I did it so my lummox of a brother and that Know-it-all would finally hook up. Merlin knows he needs all the help he can get. But I did it because I needed to get Hermione out of the way, so we could be together. She’s the only girl you’ve ever talk to,” Ginny continued.
“Have you ever asked yourself why that is?” Harry asked.
“Yeah, it tells me that you need to talk to more girls,” retorted Ginny.
“No, it should tell you that I’m in love with her!” exclaimed Harry and a collective gasp emanated from the crowd. Along with the gasps, several dozen flashes went off as the photographers who had accompanied the reporters to the wedding took pictures. Many of the reporters were muttering about the scoop of the year while scribbling notes down on bits of parchment. A moment later, a number of these reporters apparated away, obviously to write up articles on The Chosen One’s love life. A wave of anxiety washed over Harry as he realized that his outburst would more likely than not end up as front page news.
“You’re in what with /who/?” Ron sputtered.
Harry paused before answering, as he did a bit of soul searching. For the past few days, while he and Hermione spent more time together than ever before (and some of that was ‘naked time’), he hadn’t really bothered to try and define his feelings for her. Even though the outburst was unintentional; it felt natural; it was something Harry had wanted to say for a long time. It felt right saying it, and it made Harry happy, the happiest he had been in a long time.
“I said that I’m in love with Hermione,” repeated Harry.
“But you can’t be in love with Hermione,” argued Ron. “You love Ginny”
“No, I don’t,” Harry responded.
“Of course you do. It’s the way it’s supposed to be.”
“Ron, look at her,” Harry stated while pointing at Ginny. “She looks like my /mother/!”
“So, what does that…?” Ron began to debate but then stopped and looked at his sister. Slowly, his eyes started to bulge as the realization that his best mate appeared to have had an Oedipus Complex sunk in Ron’s mind. “Eww, that’s just wrong…”
“Tell me about it,” agreed Harry as he unsuccessfully tried to repress a shudder.
“Hey, I’m standing right here!” Ginny shouted.
“But that doesn’t matter,” Ron continued, obviously getting over his shock of finally noticing that Harry and Ginny’s relationship was sick and twistedly wrong. “Hermione’s still my girl!”
“How can that be Ron?” asked Harry. “You find her boring and a nag. She finds you lazy and pig-headed. She loves to learn and read; the last thing you read that wasn’t assigned to read for a class was a Quidditch Playbook. Even then you didn’t really read it, you merely looked at the pictures. The only thing you two have in common is your constant bickering!”
“But isn’t squabbling a sign of a good relationship?” Ron asked.
“Yes,” replied Harry, dripping in scorn. “In poorly written Muggle comedic films… not in real life! In real life, at best it’s a sign of an impending break-up. At worst, it’s nothing more than emotional abuse. Because of the arguments you both have, it’s obvious you two don’t respect each other. Damn it, respect is the best foundation for a good relationship, not fighting! Hermione and I respect each other. We also have more in common than you ever did with her.”
“But that isn’t fair,” Ron continued. “You get everything, Harry! Fame, fortune, and now you want the girl, too?”
“Wait a tic,” interrupted Harry, his anger growing. “Do I have to point out to you that the only reason I have ‘/fame and fortune’/ is because a very mean man murdered my family simply because he was trying to kill me?”
“Oh, well, yeah, but…” Ron answered dumbly. “You’ve got me there…”
“And do I also have to point out that because of that ‘/killing my family’/ thing I grew up in an abusive household? And because of that ‘/mean man trying to kill me/’ thing, I’ve been pursued and attacked by every bad guy in the British Isles?”
“But that doesn’t mean you can get the girl…”
“Yes, it does!” Harry yelled. “After all the pain and crap I’ve gone through, I deserve a little happiness! Besides, I’m the hero… that entitles me to the girl!”
“What does that make me then?” Ron spat. “The side kick?”
“Um…” Harry hesitated before answering, “…well, yeah, kind of.”
Ron bellowed out a curse and he stormed off toward the row of trees behind the Burrow.
“If you’re the ‘hero’ and Ron’s the ‘side kick’,” Ginny seethed, her anger flowing off of her skin. “What does that make me?”
“I don’t know, Ginny,” stated Harry. “Right now, based on your actions, I’d have to say you’re nothing more than a crazed stalker!”
Ginny huffed angrily and promptly followed Ron to the trees.
“Harry,” Mr. Weasley calmly said trying to diffuse the sticky situation. “I think it’s best if you leave for now. Just let them calm down for a while.”
Harry knew he was right; this was not the time to try to mend his friendship with Ron. Hopefully, he would be able to do it later.
Dejectedly, Harry headed to the Burrow where he found Tonks and Lupin waiting for him.
“Do you know where Hermione went?” asked Harry.
“She was a bit… distraught when she came in here,” Tonks stated.
“So we made her a Portkey to take her back to the Gryffindor Common Room,” Remus concluded.
Harry paused lost in his thoughts. He was torn between either running to Hermione to see if she was okay or leaving her alone for a bit so that she could think this through. He really didn’t know what to do; he had never been in a situation like this before. He knew Hermione was hurting, but he didn’t know if or how he could help her. He then thought of Remus, surely he had been through something like this. Maybe he could give Harry some advice on what to do. Harry turned to Remus, but before he could ask the older wizard for advice, Remus spoke up.
“And we happened to make a similar Portkey for you as well,” Remus said while pointing to an old shoe lying on the table next to Harry.
“Thank you,” Harry said and shook Remus’ hand.
“Good luck, Harry,” said Tonks.
Harry touched the Portkey and a second later, he crashed onto the floor of the Gryffindor Common Room. Brushing himself off as he stood up, Harry looked around the room in a fruitless attempt to find Hermione.
“Hermione!” he called out but no one answered. He then tried again, “HERMIONE!”
After a moment or two, Harry finally heard a muffled response coming from the girls’ dormitory. “Go away, Harry. I want to be left alone.”
Somehow, Harry knew that even though she had said she had wanted to be alone, she wanted desperately to be held by him. But he couldn’t go up the stairs leading to her room because of that pesky “No boys allowed” rule that the founders placed on the stairs. He knew from experience that the moment he placed a foot on the stairs, they would magically change into a slide and an alarm would sound, making it impossible for him to climb them. So the only way Harry could get up to Hermione is if he flew.
Luckily, it only took Harry a mere three minutes to remember that he had his broom up in his room (this realization came after he had tried to unsuccessfully Transfigure himself into a bird twice). He rushed to his room and pulled his Firebolt out of his trunk. After hopping on the broom, Harry rocketed out of his room, down the stairs, through the Common Room, and over the stairs leading to the girls’ rooms. Of course he didn’t know which room was Hermione’s because he had never been there before. So Harry listened for the muffled cries of Hermione. He heard her sobs coming from the third door on the right. Harry softly knocked on the door before entering.
He found her curled up on her bed. Hermione slowly looked up and into Harry’s face. Tears had stained her cheeks, but she had a determined look in her eyes.
“H-Harry, I don’t think we should be together any more…” Hermione forced herself to say.
“What? Why?” Harry stammered, shocked at Hermione’s revelation.
“Because I’m afraid what we… have, it isn’t real,” explained Hermione. “Ginny spiked my tea before I came to visit you the other day and I practically molested you because of it.”
“So what?” Harry retorted.
“So, the Lust Potion obviously affected me and my actions…”
“How long would the effects last?” asked Harry.
“It depends,” answered Hermione, falling back into her safe routine of being the one with the answers. “Usually only a few hours…”
“So you were under the influence of the Potion when you…” Harry began and paused slightly at the memory of Hermione giving ‘/Harry, Jr.’/ a hand shake. “When you jumped me?”
“Yes,” replied Hermione.
“What about later that night when we were in the library?”
“Probably not, but there is still a chance I was still under its effects.”
“Even if you were, what about later? Were you still affected by the potion when you gave me my… err… birthday present? That was two days after you got the potion.”
“That isn’t the point, Harry!” Hermione exclaimed.
“Why not?”
“Because, I wouldn’t have done that thing the first time without being under the effects of the potion,” she said and looked guiltily at her hand. “And even though the Lust Potion was out of my system after that, I don’t think I would’ve done those… things with you if I hadn’t… molested you first.”
“So what you’re saying is that Ginny unintentionally got us together.” Harry surmised.
“Yes… what… no?” responded Hermione, obviously confused with Harry’s train of thought.
“Listen,” Harry began and he walked over to where Hermione was still laying. “Ginny gave you that potion so you’d relax your inhibitions and get together with Ron. But before the effects of the dosing kicked in, I had Owled you for help. You came over to help me, so the effects of the potion kicked in when you and I were talking.”
“Yes, that’s my point!” Hermione announced.
“Let me ask you a question,” Harry continued. “If I hadn’t Owled you and you ended up doing… things with Ron, would you have continued to be intimate with him after the potion wore off?”
“It’s impossible to say now,” answered Hermione. “I can’t tell you what I would’ve done if the situation was different.”
“Yes, you can,” Harry interrupted. “Do you honestly believe that you would’ve stayed with Ron, bearing in mind that you two argue constantly and have absolutely nothing in common?
“No, probably not,” Hermione replied honestly.
“And yet you’ve stayed with me,” Harry continued. “Why is that?”
Hermione hesitated as she looked deep into Harry’s eyes, obviously afraid to answer.
“Let me tell you why,” Harry stated. “It’s because you and I have something special, something that goes beyond lust. Remember, according to Slughorn, the potion only lowered your inhibitions. It would not have made you do anything that you weren’t already wanting, at least subconsciously. If you had felt nothing for me, there’s no way Ginny’s Lust Potion would have created these feelings. The end result is just that you acted on your impulses rather than trying to make up reasons why you shouldn’t have done anything. And I thank God that you did make the move; I have to tell you I was too afraid of scaring you away. I wouldn’t be the same person if you weren’t there for me. And I don’t think I ever want to try not having you with me.”
Taking her hands in his, Harry gently guided Hermione off the bed so that she was standing in front of her. Harry let go of her hands and softly cupped her face in his hands.
“I can honestly say Hermione…” Harry began and leaned in close to her so that his mouth hovered over her delicate lips. “that I am deeply and sincerely in love with you.”
Harry let Hermione gasp in surprise before sealing his lips over hers. He poured all of his love, all of his being, into the kiss. He had hoped it was the type of kiss that would make Hermione’s toes curl. Apparently, Harry’s tactic had worked because Hermione moaned into his mouth and she threw her arms around his neck. His hands slid from her face, his left arm wrapped around her body, pulling her closer to him. He ran his right hand through her hair so that he could cradle her head.
After what seemed like hours, the two pulled away from each others’ mouths and rested their foreheads against one another.
“Oh, Harry,” Hermione said softly. “How could I have doubted what we have?”
“Just don’t let it happen again, love.” Harry said, attempting at injecting a touch of humor.
“I love you too Harry,” breathed Hermione. “And I love your hands on my /bottom/,” Hermione giggled. She said the word “/bottom/” like it was a dirty naughty thing that deserved to be spanked. Harry thought it was a request for him to squeeze her bum, but before he could comply, he was stopped when Hermione literarily purred and said, “Do it again, Harry.”
‘Again?’ This puzzled the young wizard, since his hands were nowhere near her bum. In fact, his left arm was still wrapped around her body and his right was somewhat tangled in her bushy hair. Harry look down at Hermione’s backside (something that he discovered that he liked to do) and saw that an old, wrinkly, and somewhat transparent hand was firmly attached to his girlfriend’s bum Harry’s eyes slowly followed up the transparent arm and into the smiling face of Godric Gryffindor.
“What Cheer, Harry?” the ghost greeted Harry and promptly gave another squeeze to Hermione’s pert bottom. “Thought you needed a /hand/.”
To be continued!

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Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor
Chapter Thirty: Threats, Boobies, and Fake Names
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: Draco makes his move!!!
“You had sex in front of Courtney?” Luna asked for the third time in as many minutes.
“Yes. I don’t see what is so difficult to understand,” Hermione answered.
The two witches were sitting on the couch, while Ron and Harry played a game of chess. The four were enjoying the solitude afforded to them in the Head Students’ chamber. The topic of conversation had dealt with the fact that Harry and Hermione proudly admitted that they performed a public sex act. More shockingly, the couple had sex, knowing that they had an audience, albeit of one.
“You two have grown so kinky that you’re now having a live show, that’s what’s so hard to understand,” explained Ron after he moved a pawn.
“No, what’s so hard to believe about the situation is that we weren’t invited,” Luna stated. “I had assumed that when you finally did have someone watch, it’d be us; your best friends.”
“Um, honey, count me out of that,” Ron requested, while Harry fretted over his next move on the board. “Harry and Hermione are like siblings to me; watching them shag would be just creepy.”
“But you’ve already seen us. Remember, through that Pensieve we made you,” Harry pointed out. He hesitantly moved his knight, knowing that he’d more likely than not lose the piece with Ron’s next move.
“Yeah, but that was different, wasn’t it,” Ron said. “For one thing, it wasn’t live, you know? Seeing it in real life, where I would smell you guys, it would be too weird for me. And second, you were teaching me something. So I was able to force myself to overcome my queasiness of watching you go down on Hermione; I was focusing on the knowledge that I could learn what you two were showing me.”
“Ronald, dear, what are you talking about /’queasiness’/?” Luna asked with a pleasant smile. “You masturbated as we watched the Pensieve.”
“Just that once,”he tried to defend himself.
“Actually the first ten times we watched,” corrected Luna.
“Fine, alright, I lied,” Ron confessed in a huff. “Wanking to a Pensieve memory is a lot different from the real thing. If I watched the live act, I’d end up wanting to wank. And that thought scares me because I’d be masturbating to my best mates, one of whom is a bloke, while they could see me. Wanking my willy in the same room as Harry getting laid is a little too close to being gay for me, okay?”
“That is quite all right, Ronald, you can stay while I’ll go and watch when Harry and Hermione invite us,” Luna said dreamily.
“Um, you do realize that it was a kind of spur of the moment thing, right?” Harry said as he watched Ron’s white bishop sodomize one of his remaining few black pawns. The bishop had taken off his mitre and was waving it above his head like a cowboy at a rodeo as the piece buggered the helpless pawn. “Where the hell did you get this chess set?”
“Of course I understand,” Luna said happily. “I’m just saying that if that spur of the moment thing ever strikes you again that you ask me to watch.”
“You already have watched us. When I had you take polyjuice to look like me on the train when term began, you watched me perform oral sex on Harry,” Hermione pointed out. She turned to Ron and reprimanded, “And you had no problem shagging Luna when she looked like me. ‘Think of me as a sibling,’ my backside.”
Ron pretended to have not heard Hermione as he concentrated on his bishop spanking Harry’s violated pawn.
“That was just oral sex, Hermione. I want the whole deal,” Luna said with a hint of excitement. “I don’t want to pressure you two or anything, but I do want to put it in your heads that I’m next in line for the entertainment.”
“Um, sure,” Harry finally said. “You’ll be the first one we contact.”
“And, as an added incentive, I’ll allow both of you to watch Ronald and I make love as well,”Luna added.
“We will?” Ron asked nervously.
“Yes,” the blonde said evenly.
“What, now?” Ron asked.
“No, Ronald, you’re playing your game,” Luna said with a shake of her head as if she was disappointed that her husband couldn’t understand such a basic concept. “It wouldn’t do to have sex in the middle of a match. Perhaps we can do it once the game is over.”
“That’s not necessary,” Harry said.
“Are you certain? I can use the chess pieces as helpers,” Luna offered.
“How would you use the pieces?” asked Harry… and he instantly regretted it.
“It’s a wonderful game I invented,” she said with a bright smile. “It’s called ‘The Spelunking King.’ Ronald and I were just playing it with the black king before you two started playing your match.”
Harry had been eyeing his king (which happened to be the black piece that Luna had referred to) and was about to move it, but now had second thoughts about even touching it. He wondered whose cave the king had gone spelunking in (much less what /cave/)and whether or not it was cleaned afterwards.
“It’s alright, Luna, we’ll just take a rain check,” Hermione said.
“What does that mean?” the blonde asked.
“It means that we’ll take you up on your offer at some later date,” explained Hermione. It was clear to Harry that Hermione had no intention of fulfilling that obligation.
It didn’t take long for Ron to trounce Harry. But how the red head had won was what surprised Harry. Apparently, Ron’s pieces had thrown the rules away and had all participated in a gang-bang on Harry’s queen.
“Just where the hell did you get this chess set?”
“Bukkake!” Ron’s two knight pieces shouted as their battle cry.
SoG
The next morning, Harry sent a post to Alicia telling her in great detail that the toy she was interested in had worked wonders (a brief exert of the note described the “wonderful sounds Hermione made every time I tugged a ball out of her bum told me she really, RE/ALLY// liked it”/). After Harry sent Hedwig off to deliver the post, he joined his friends in the Great Hall. Hermione had already finished her meal and was busy reading the Daily Prophet. The front page of the paper was dedicated to a new pamphlet that the Ministry had begun to circulate. This pamphlet would only end up accentuating the wizarding population’s current irrational fear.
“Ministry Advises the Public to Stay Indoors!” the paper read.
“After multiple reports of random attacks committed by roving gangs of giants, werewolves, and Death Eaters, the Ministry released a pamphlet instructing witches and wizards not to go anywhere after sundown. The only time the Ministry suggests someone should leave the safety of their homes is in the case of an emergency.
This official document also urges people to barricade their homes with various wards. Many of the wards that are suggested are considered high level wards, such as Ill-Will Repeller and Bind My Foes. As these wards are highly difficult to erect, far above the ability of the average wizard and witch, most of these wards will need a Certified Wards Master to make them.
Some of the defensive spells the Ministry highlighted include the Stun Hex and the Impediment Curse. The Ministry suggests that if someone were to be attacked that they should use these two spells in order to buy enough time to escape.
‘How the (expletive deleted) am I supposed to use a/(expletive deleted) /Stun Hex on a giant? A Stunner just bounces off a/(expletive deleted) giant,” Wilhelmina Murray, aged one-hundred and two, commented demurely after she read the pamphlet. “And even if I’m attacked by(expletive deleted) /Death Eaters with no (expletive deleted) (expletive deleted) giants, a Stunning Spell won’t do /(expletive deleted). The moment I’d knock one of those (expletive deleted) /down, one of the other/(expletive deleted) /would Rennervate them and I’d b (expletive deleted) out of luck.”
Another wizard, Hans Von der Kidd, stated that he’d most likely leave the country. “I can’t make wards like these; they’re too difficult,” Mr. Von der Kidd said. “And I know that I don’t stand a chance dueling with a Death Eater, much less a giant or werewolf. It’d be for the best if I just leave this place. I’m about to decide to let You Know Who have /England//.”/
“This is horrible,” Hermione groaned so that only Harry could hear and tossed the paper on the table. “I thought that performing the Morgy Ritual would help. Even though we took out over a hundred Death Eaters, it doesn’t matter. The war has gotten so bad that everyone’s now afraid of their own shadow.”
With a sad look, Hermione surveyed the Great Hall. The Hall was packed full of happy students, all of them laughing and smiling.
“Why isn’t everyone else like we are here,” she said loud enough that their friends heard.. “None of us are pulling our hair out. None of us are frightened that we might get attacked and killed.”
“Maybe it’s because we’re in Hogwarts,” offered Ginny, as she ate her breakfast. “It’s got a bunch of really strong wards around it. And we’ve also got Aurors patrolling the castle and grounds. So it’s pretty much safe from attack.”
“But we were attacked last year,” Neville pointed out, “even with the wards and Order of the Phoenix members patrolling the grounds.”
“Then why is everyone here acting so carefree?” Luna asked.
Harry bit his tongue. He had a theory, the one that the pervert, Gryffindor, had pointed out. The young wizard wasn’t about to blurt this theory out. So over the course of the day, Harry pondered how he could approach Hermione about this once-outlandish idea.
“I think I know why everyone here isn’t affected by the war,” Harry began when he and Hermione were alone in their chambers later that night. “It’s because of us.”
“How do you mean?”asked Hermione.
“Well, I think the students, and some of the teachers, aren’t overly worried about Voldemort because we, well we’ve given them something to do other than fret,” he explained vaguely.
“And just how did you and I do this?”
“Well, to be honest, it was more like Dobby did it.”
Hermione looked at Harry in deep thought for a moment. Then she narrowed her eyes and challenged,”Are you saying that because everyone here saw us have sex that they don’t worry about the war?”
“Basically, yeah,”he agreed. “Listen, I know it sounds far fetched, but I’m in the middle of this war, and it’s no secret Voldemort wants me dead. You’re in the limelight too, not only because you associate with me but because you’re a Muggle-born witch, making you a target twice over. So by all rights, out of everyone in this castle, you and I should be the ones most affected by the war. But we don’t let it get to us, not to the extent of the people outside the castle. We’re living our lives the way we want to and not in fear. And by seeing all those Pensieves, our peers were encouraged to do the same. I know it’s not a conventional way of boosting morale, but it worked.”
“Harry, I don’t consider an active sex-life the cornerstone of living our lives without fear,”argued Hermione.
“But it is. Most people out there are terrified. So much so that they aren’t even sleeping properly; they sleep with one eye open. And the last thing on their minds is sex. You know for a fact that sex is a great stress reliever.”
“And how do you know people aren’t having sex?”
“I talked with Alicia. She’s working at Franklin’s of Cardiff, and she told me that no one’s been shopping there in weeks,” he told her.
“Franklin’s of Cardiff? Is that where you got those toys?” she asked and he nodded in the affirmative. “I’ll have to go there one day.”
“The back section’s where they keep the toys,” Harry pointed out.
“Let’s say that I agree with your assumptions that people aren’t having sex and that lack of activity is a part of the problem,” Hermione speculated. “Are you suggesting that we have Dobby start passing out the Pensieves again, only this time to everyone in England?”
“Not exactly,” he replied. “You see, Ginny was right to a point. This castle has wards. They do have a way of making the people inside feel secure, even though a small group of Death Eaters attacked last year by bypassing those wards. However, most homes don’t even have the simplest wards.”
“What does that have to do with us having sex?”
“Well, we could create new rituals, ones that could erect wards around people’s homes,” Harry said.
“Yes, I can see that. I’ve actually had a few ideas in that area,” Hermione said while chewing her lip. “But how do you suppose we teach these potential rituals to everyone? I mean, having Dobby pass out Pensieves to everyone in the country is a little impractical.”
Harry spoke very slowly and clearly so that he could drive this point home… that and he reckoned that it would turn her on so he didn’t want her to misunderstand him.
“You… and I… will… write… a… book.”
“A bo-b-book? Me, an author?” she asked hesitantly. Suddenly Hermione’s irises shot open, leaving only a hair-thin ring of color, her lips puffed up a touch, and her complexion flushed. Harry could see her nipples harden through her blouse, and he felt it was safe to assume that she was getting rather wet. Harry’s assumption about the dampness of his girlfriend was confirmed when she ordered throatily: “Shag me silly, Harry.”
As Harry was in the process of carrying out her request of shagging her silly and while he was tugging on her hair, Hermione brought up a good point.
“Wait, why don’t –/uh /- -we just – -/smack my bum /- -copies of the tantric book we –/that’s it /- -already have?”
“/Uh/ – -we –/oh/ – -can use some of the – -/er/ – -spells from that book,” Harry said and paused to give Hermione a good hard swat. “But – -/oh/- – it doesn’t – -/uh/ – -have a lot of ward rituals.”
“So you’re saying- -/ooh, yessss rub my clit/ – -we need to make an – -/mama/ –updated version of The Magic of Making – -/FUCK ME! /- -Love?”
“/I’m gonna cum /–Yeah, a new version,” Harry answered. “One that will – -/almost there /–help people deal with Voldemort.”
“Hold on, I’m close – -I think we should – -/just a bit more, baby – -follow the author of the ‘special book’ and – -/oooh so- -o- -o- -o close /- -use pen-names – -/NOW! DO IT NOW!”
SoG
The next day during Potions, Hermione and Harry were quietly discussing what spells and rituals they should put in their forthcoming book from the ones that they had already invented.
“We should definitely include the Wit-Enhancing ritual,” offered Hermione as she put a dash of powdered frog toes into the bubbling concoction they were brewing. “Of course, that would mean we’d have to put in a section on stretching techniques so that the reader would be limber enough to perform that ritual.”
“One spell that we shouldn’t put in is the ‘Loninquitas Amorus,’ the long distance love ritual that I created,” Harry said. “I could see some bad people doing bad things with that one.”
“You mean like if Snape had that ritual in school, he would’ve used it on your Mum?” speculated Hermione.
“Why’d you go and say that?” demanded Harry as he felt his stomach lurch. “You could’ve left it at ‘bad people doing bad things.’ But no, you had to bring up that greasy bastard’s obsession with wanking over the thought of my mother.”
“I’m sorry, Harry,” apologized the brunette. “I’ll make it up to you after supper tonight.”
“Well, it better be good,” he pouted. “You mentioned my mother and Snape in the same sentence. And you made it about sex, making it even worse.”
“All right, I let you bugger me and you can cum on my tits,” she said casually, stirring the contents of their cauldron. “Would that be good enough?”
“Throw in a hummer before hand and we’re even.”
“Well, that goes without saying, doesn’t it,” she said. “Of course, I’ll expect the same in return. Perhaps we can pleasure each other at the same time.”
Hermione checked the board once more, reviewing the instructions. “Hand me that mandrake root,”she asked Harry.
The wizard reached out and took hold of the root. The moment his fingers wrapped around the mandrake, it began to heat up and shake. Knowing that mandrake roots should not do that, Harry dropped the item. It fell back on the table and continued to shake.
“Why’s it doing that?” Harry asked Hermione.
“It didn’t do that when I fetched it from the supply cupboard,” she answered. “Someone must have tampered with so it would activate with your touch.”
A second later, the root stood up on one end and began to reshape it self. It stretched and shrunk, changed from a dirty beige color to a warm pink. Veins started to pop up all along the surface. After a moment, it flopped down and stilled. Harry and Hermione were looking down at a very detailed pink dildo, foreskin, veins, wrinkles, and all.
“Who the hell would want to change a mandrake root into a penis?” asked Hermione. “Oh My God, it’s throbbing.”
“You-hoo!” Draco Malfoy called out effeminately from across the lab. He gave Harry a limp wristed wave and shouted, “If you like that, you can get the real thing later!”
Harry looked at Draco then he looked at the phallic object for a moment before it hit him – -no, not the dildo, the truth.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” he groaned out.
“What’s wrong?”asked Hermione.
“Draco transfigured the root into a copy of his willy,” Harry explained as he turned a nasty shade of green.
With a disgusted expression marring her face, Hermione pulled out her wand, unwilling to touch Draco’s organ, even by proxy, and in a series of light jabbing motions, pushed the phallic object off of the table. It landed on the floor and made a fleshy slapping sound.
That sound was enough to send our hero over the edge. With a gut-wrenching gurgling sound, Harry promptly vomited into his and Hermione’s cauldron.
While Hermione helped clean up the mess on the table and on Harry, Draco said in a loud voice;”Oh, look, he’s so excited that he got sick…”
SoG
Over the next two weeks, Harry and Hermione busied themselves with designing and practicing new content for their proposed book. They had come up with several new rituals, mostly for home defense, a number of potions, and some tactics just for fun. The couple used the magically upgraded Shrieking Shack as their testing grounds.
Not all of the rituals were strictly for defense. A few of the simpler sex-rituals were designed for household charms. One in particular was created to keep the participants’ home neat and orderly. It would magically dust, sweep, and mop along with straightening chairs, leveling photos, and the like. This particular ritual needed some milk and honey dribbled over both parties’ torsos and they needed to have sex on the home’s kitchen table.
But Harry and Hermione came up with several rituals that would effectively erect protective wards around the house. One ritual that Hermione had created was a powerful Anti-Apparation Ward. As opposed to other Anti-Apparation Wards, this one was relatively simple to erect. For the ritual, the wizard had to suckle on the largest toe on the witch’s left foot, whilst she sucked on his thumb from his right hand for fifteen minutes. Then the wizard had to ejaculate on each of the four corners of the building (this part of the ritual obviously would take some time to complete, allowing the wizard to recuperate between corners).
One Ward that Harry created was a nasty Anti-Harm Deterrent Ward. Basically, this ritual set up a ward around a house designed to detect the intentions of anyone who approached the house. If the person’s intentions were good, the ward would let them pass. But if the person wanted to physically harm someone, then the ward would cause that person to empty their bowels violently. If the person was left in the effects of the ward long enough, he’d collapse from dehydration. This ritual involved anal sex and the wizard had to pinch his own left nipple while simultaneously pinching the witch’s nose shut.
Another ward, dubbed the Evil Freezer, caused anyone who tried to cast an Unforgivable Curse to freeze in mid-incantation. The ritual was one of the longer ones to perform. First, Harry had to take Hermione from behind as she hung halfway out a window that faced the East as the sun rose, then he had to work on her bare bottom in a specific series of swats, pinches, and squeezes. Then he had to take her again, this time as she hung out a window on the West side during sunset.
However, not everything the couple came up with worked. Take for instance a potion Hermione had tried to create. Her plan was to have the potion halt the wizard’s climax, thereby extending the man’s performance by a significant period of time. Unfortunately when Harry tested this potion on himself, he proved that it didn’t work. In fact it was a very messy disaster. The potion didn’t extend his performance; it did however have the nasty side-effect of increasing the amount and force of his discharge a thousand fold.
“Blimey, it’s getting all over the place,” Harry commented. The potion had turned him into a lawn-sprinkler. Not the type of sprinkler that rains down evenly in a circular pattern, mind you. He was the type of sprinkler that spat and squirted in uneven, long arcs of fluid with a noisy discharge. Added to this analogy, ‘Harry, Jr.’ was making a very loud noise similar to a sprinkler. “SHPLISH – – SPLISH- – SLPISH-SQUIRT-SQUIRT-SQUIRT”
“Harry! STOP!” Hermione demanded and spat, as she tried to back away from the human sprinkler.
“I can’t!” he grunted and launched another rapid series of squirts that arced across the room, hitting the walls, floor, and ceiling… along with his girlfriend. Apart of Harry, the dirty part, actually liked the latter target and so, unwillingly (or so he’d later claim) he aimed for the witch.
“AHK! PHHT!”Hermione spat and sputtered again. “Don’t get it in my eyes! Oh No! Not in my hair!”
And there were a few ideas that had nothing to do with magic. Such as Hermione’s own Massaging Oil which wasn’t too greasy, and heated upon contact (it could also be used as a lubricant, wink-wink). This new oil also turned out to be a healthy substitute for butter in baking (Harry wrote a note to mention in the book not to use it as a butter substitute after it was used for one or both of its other uses). And then Harry had several ideas on massages; he found he was a natural at foot rubs. Of course foot rubs led to the calves being massaged, which led to the thighs getting a good rub-down, and logically, this led directly to finger-banging.
SoG
One night after supper, Harry and Hermione were making their way back to their chambers down a deserted hallway.
“I came up with anew ward,” the brunette announced. “This ward will theoretically create an infallible door locking charm, as well as strengthening the windows and doors of a house during an attack. So if an attacker bypasses or breaks through the other wards, this ward would prevent him from entering the house. An /Alohomora/wouldn’t work and the attacker’s blasting hexes would be ineffectual. It would be the ideal ward to allow the inhabitants to escape through the floo, or even simply give them enough time for help to arrive.”
“That’s neat,”Harry said. And then asked what he felt was the most important part: the casting of this ward; “How’s it done?”
“Well, we’ll have to test it out,” she said. It was obvious by her eyes that she was more than willing to test the ward out dozens of times. Even after the ward was proven, it was clear that Hermione would still be willing to “test” it several more times. “But you, the wizard, would have to take me, the witch, from behind while I have my naked tits pressed against the door, or window – which ever item we’re trying to strengthen. Then, after you cum in me, you’d have to rub your bits on the same door or window, thereby spreading our combined juices on it. The ritual would have to be performed for every window and door.”
“Gee, the Shrieking Shack has a lot of doors and windows,” Harry said knowingly.
“Yes, that would mean that we would have to perform this ritual a number of times then, won’t we?” Hermione said with a smile. “Are you up for shagging me against each and every door and window in the Shack?” she asked coyly.
“Oh, at least two times for each one. In fact, I think I should take you into this classroom,”he said and led her to one of the castle’s numerous abandoned rooms, “and give the ward a try right now.”
The moment the door creaked open, a shout of/ “Accio Wands!” /came from the darkness behind them. Before either could register what was happening, Harry and Hermione’s wands were magically pulled from their pockets, soaring to where the voice had come from.
Harry spun in time to see someone in the shadows flick their wand in his direction. An invisible wall forcibly pushed Harry and his girlfriend into the empty classroom. The couple tumbled across the floor and crashed into the far wall. As Harry started to get up, he heard Hermione yelp in surprise. The black haired wizard looked up to see his girlfriend already standing, but she had a thick rope coiling around her as if it was a snake. It wrapped around her ankles, up her legs, over her hips, it pinned her hands and arms to her midsection, and it bound her shoulders. Hermione teetered for a second before falling to the ground.
“Harry, run-“Hermione began. But a length of fabric materialized and tied itself around her mouth, effectively gagging her.
“At last, we’re alone,” Draco Malfoy said as he sauntered in and closed the door behind him. Hermione muffled something, most likely a threat at Draco. The blond ponce looked at the bound witch and corrected his statement. “Well, we’re /mostly/alone.”
Draco took two steps to Harry. With each step, Draco unhooked a clasp of his flaming pink robe.
“Wait, Malfoy, you don’t want to do this,” Harry protested as he took two steps back. If he had his wand, he’d Stun Draco, free Hermione, run out of the classroom, and pretend that this never happened. But since Draco was the only one with a wand and Harry knew that if he tried to escape, the blond wizard would either magically trip him or worst; tie him up like he had to Hermione.
“Oh, but I do want to do this, Harry,” lisped Draco. He unhooked another clasp and Harry could see that Malfoy wasn’t wearing a shirt under his garishly colored robe. “You know, shortly before I returned to this marvelous castle, I was hit with a bout of unbearable suffering. Apparently, this dreadful pain affected anyone with a Dark Mark. It was all over the Prophet if you don’t recall.”
“Yes I do, actually. Why don’t you tell me how you overcame it,” Harry said nervously. He was hoping to distract Malfoy long enough to figure out a way to escape.
“I managed because of our love,” Draco said affectionately. “The thought of our passion, our destiny, our love, gave me the strength to persevere. That and drinking half a bottle of Fire Whiskey in one swallow helped, too.”
At this point, Draco theatrically threw his robes open. Harry quickly averted his eyes. However, he was not quick enough to miss the fact that Draco wasn’t wearing any pants or trousers. And, worse, that he had a frilly lace ribbon tied in a bow around a certain part of his anatomy.
“Come to me my heart. Let us join in the bonds of fated love,” Draco said, and began to walk to Harry with his arms wide open, ready to embrace the black haired wizard.
Harry, being the brave Gryffindor that he was, leapt behind Hermione’s prone body and attempted to shield himself from Draco with his girlfriend. Hermione tried to protest, because she obviously didn’t like the sight of the “gift bow” either.
“Aha, poor befuddled Harry,” huffed Draco disappointedly, “still trying to deny your inner feelings of longing.”
The blond flicked his wand and Hermione was tugged from Harry’s grasp, and dragged to the other side of the room.
“I guess I’ll just have to show you the error of your ways,” Draco said with a knowing smile. “I’ve been saving myself for you.”
Draco took another three steps toward Harry. The black haired wizard scurried on his bum across the floor as to not give Draco a target.
“Well, to be honest, there was the five snog sessions with Colin,” Draco admitted, pausing in his approach. “But he was just an appetizer compared to you, so I don’t think I should even count him.” Again Draco moved and again, Harry scurried backwards on his bottom.
“Why do you run, my heart?” asked Draco adoringly. “We are meant to be together. It is fate, kismet, destiny!”
“Listen, that Prophet article was a misprint,” Harry blurted out. He had faced death on numerous occasions, but he never had to face the possibility of a willy shoved up his bum, much less one with a “gift bow.” “I’m in love with Hermione. We’ve had sex loads of times.”
“Refuse it all you want, my dearest soul mate,” Malfoy said, smirking. “Soon, you and I will be in the throws of passion. You’ll forget all about your frizzy haired beard.”
Hermione grunted another protest. Whether it was in defense of Harry or due to offence by being referred to as a beard, Harry couldn’t tell.
Suddenly, the door to the classroom swung open. All three sets of eyes turned to see Courtney walk in.
“Hey, what’s going on in here?” the Auror in training asked upon seeing Hermione bound and gagged. A demented twinkle appeared in her eyes and she said hopefully, “Oh, how kinky. You’ve tied Hermione up and now you two are going to take turns with her! Can I watch? I want to see the blond bloke take Hermione first!”
“What? I’d never touch a witch,” Draco said, clearly appalled by such an idea.
“Courtney, you have to help,” Harry said as he ran and bravely hid behind her. “Malfoy is infatuated with me; he’s positive that I’m in love with him.”
“It’s not infatuation, it’s true and pure love,” Draco objected. “You are my knight, the rescuer of the damsel, me.”
“He’s not gay,”Courtney said dismissively while looking the pink robed wizard up and down. Clearly, she was not offended by the fact that Draco had his bits exposed, nor that he had a frilly bow tied around his John Thomas.
“Yes, he is,”Harry argued.
“Yes I am,” agreed Draco. “Look at what I’m wearing.”
“Bright colors do not make a person gay. By the way, I like the bow,” the witch said with a smirk. “Personally, I’ve know plenty of gay blokes. Hell, I even dated a few of them before they came out of the closet. I can recognize a gay wizard from a mile away, closeted or otherwise.” Courtney then added in a soft undertone”Wish I would’ve had that skill before I dated the poofters to be.” She then said to Draco “You’re just confused.”
“No, I’m not,”Draco challenged. “I’m gay as the day is long!”
“Oh really, are you sure?” she asked. Courtney took a step towards Draco. She looked him in the eye and inquired; “Do you crave, no need to hold another wizard’s cock? To feel his pulse throb in your hand? Is it a dream of yours to run your tongue up his hot shaft and taste his sweat? Do you desire to have the musky taste of his cum on your tongue?”
As she spoke, Courtney inched forward, slowly closing the space between her and the blond wizard. Draco’s face twitch once or twice as the witch painted images with her words. But his eyes still held that defiance.
“Or is the thought of large breasts more appealing to you?” she continued to ask. Harry saw Courtney tug her robes open and took another step toward Draco. She was so close to the blond wizard that her orbs were gently brushing against his bare torso. “Would running your hands over the milky white flesh of a witch’s bosom make your heart race? Do you want to feel her hard nipples between your fingers as you tweak them?” She moved her torso so that her titties were being rubbed in circular motions on Draco’s chest. “What kind of sounds would she make when you rolled the nub between your fingers? Does the way her skin prickle at your touch fascinate you? Or does a part of you want to gently scrape your teeth on the underside of her breast? Do you desire to bat your tongue over her hard nipples?”
Draco’s face had turned a bright red and tiny droplets of sweat had sprung up on his brow. While still leaning into the wizard, Courtney looked back over her shoulder at Harry.
“He’s not gay,”she announced.
“Are you sure?”Harry asked nervously.
“Oh, yeah,” she said smiling. “When I was talking about man-bits, I didn’t get a twitch out of him.”
“Excuse me, his face got all scrunched up when you said those things,” Harry pointed out.
“I wasn’t talking about his face,” she clarified. “But once I started talking about jugs, well, let’s just say that the evidence that he doesn’t like blokes is pressing against me right now.”
Thankfully, Courtney did not move away from Draco to prove this point. However, Harry could see that Draco had his eyes fixed on the witch – – but it wasn’t her face that he was staring at. Despite this, Harry could still see that Draco was alittle confused and our hero feared that his school nemesis would have a relapse, so to speak, and try to molest him once again. A sudden idea came to Harry as to how he could keep Draco away from him.
“Courtney, could you… you know… take care of Draco?” Harry asked. “For me?”
“What the hell are you asking?” Courtney demanded. She closed her robes and turned to face Harry.
“Well, he’s still thinks he’s gay, at least a part of him does,” Harry explained. “Could you, please, show him that he really isn’t gay at all?”
“Are you asking me to shag him?” she demanded with her brow furrowed in anger.
“No, at least not necessarily,” Harry clarified. “I was thinking you could take him out and see how it plays from there. If shagging occurs, then so be it.”
“Sure, he’s a yummy. But, he hasn’t even bought me flowers or anything like that.”
“Here, Draco,”Harry began while digging through his pockets. He pulled out a few galleons and handed them to the mostly naked wizard. “Go buy Courtney some flowers.”
Draco snatched the gold from Harry, threw the two wands he had captured down on the ground, and dashed out of the room; clearly to go buy some flowers for Courtney. That or masturbate over the thought of her boobs. Or both.
“I can’t believe you did that,” she said with a touch of anger. “You’re trying to get him to go out with me because you don’t want him trying to molest you again.”
“That’s the gist of it, yes,” Harry said while nodding his head.
“You’re barmy,”she said. “What if it doesn’t work? What if we go on a date, he finds out I’m not his type of witch and he slips back into thinking he’s gay for you?”
“He got an erection,”Harry countered. “Of course he’ll like you.”
“Harry, just because he got a stiffy doesn’t mean he’s into me. Here, watch,” she said and pulled her robes open again.
“Oh, my,” murmured Harry as he tilted his head to the left. His other head took a distinct turn to the right. Hermione made some noise. Again, Harry didn’t know if she was protesting the fact that her boyfriend was looking at another witch’s bare breasts or if she was upset because she couldn’t see them herself.
“See, you already have wood,” Courtney gestured to Harry’s groin. “It doesn’t mean that you’re into me.”
After a second he shook his head (not that one, the one with two eyes) in an attempt to think clearly. “Listen, you said it yourself, Draco’s confused and you can help him stop from making a mistake.”
“What’s in it for me?” she asked.
“You may grow to like him,” speculated Harry even though he didn’t believe it himself; he couldn’t see how anyone with a pulse could like Draco. But some people were weird that way.
Courtney tapped her foot on the ground several times as she mulled over the proposition. This foot tapping caused her mounds to jiggle a touch to Harry’s fascination. Finally, she agreed. “All right, but you have to hook me up with someone else if it doesn’t work out. He has to be cute. But it’s okay that’ he’s ugly if he’s hung. Or rich.”
“Deal,” Harry said. He paused as a glimmer of light drew his attention back to Courtney’s breasts. “What’s that on your nipple?”
The wizard had been so transfixed by her breasts – – as any man would tell you, breasts are the most captivating object in the entire universe; the beauty of a picture perfect sunrise cannot hold a candle to a good boob – – that he had not noticed the silver ring dangling from her pink nub.
“Oh, it’s a nipple-ring,” she replied and threw her chest out so Harry could get a better look at the dangling piece of jewelry. “Do you like it?”
“No. A tit isn’t a Christmas tree; you don’t need to decorate it,” Harry said while still transfixed.
“They’re hot and fun,” Courtney argued. “Go on, give it a tug.”
“What?” Harry asked, taken back by the request.
“Tug on it,” she repeated. “It feels great.”
“Um, I have a girlfriend,” Harry said and pointed to his bound and gagged witch a few feet away. He was trying to use the age-old “My girlfriend will kill me if I do anything remotely like that” defense.
“She can give it apull after you,” Courtney said and then turned to Hermione. “You don’t mind, do you?”
Surprisingly, Hermione shrugged her shoulders in acceptance and muttered through the gag”mf-kay.”
Courtney spun back to face Harry and threw back her shoulders in order to present her sizable mounds to him. “All right now give it a tug.”
Hesitantly, Harry raised his hand and moved it slowly to Courtney’s offered tit. With a tremble in his hand, he took hold of the ring between the tips of his thumb and forefinger. Gently, he pulled the ring up and let it fall back down.
“What the hell was that?” demanded Courtney.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” protested Harry.
“I told you to tug on it,” the Auror said. “It’s not like I asked you to rip it off. But you didn’t even properly tug on it. You barely even touched it.”
Courtney rolled her eyes and flicked her wand at Hermione. The ropes and gag vanished with a soft pop. “Oi, Hermione, you’re a kinky girl. Come over here and show your boyfriend how to tug on my nipple ring the right way.”
A sweet smile graced Hermione’s lips as she stood. She carefully smoothed out the pleats of her skirt before walking up to the Auror.
Harry Potter had prevailed over numerous attempts on his life. He was the only known survivor of the dreaded Killing Curse. He survived wresting with a troll when he was eleven. When he was only twelve years old, he defeated a Basilisk. The young wizard vanquished hordes of Dementors when he was just thirteen. Survived a dragon and dueled the most fear dark wizard to a standstill when he was fourteen. And he fought off a dozen fully trained Death Eaters when he was fifteen until help arrived. But what Hermione did nearly ended Harry’s life.
The brunette witch politely folded her hands behind her back, bent over slightly at her hips so that her face was level with Courtney’s breasts, opened her mouth wide and stuck out her tongue. Harry watched as his girlfriend’s tongue wriggled a bit before hooking the nipple ring. Deftly, Hermione’s talented tongue pulled the ring into her mouth before closing her teeth on the piece of jewelry. With a growl, Hermione pulled at the ring like a dog pulling on a toy. Courtney moaned softly as her sensitive flesh was stretched.
Simply put; it was a miracle that Harry didn’t drop dead right there.
“Cor, that was a good one,” cheered Courtney. The Auror looked at Harry and commented, “I think you broke him.”
“No, he’s fine,”Hermione said as she stood. “He just has a raging hard-on right now. Come on, baby, let’s go take care of that.”
“I don’t think I can move,” Harry said in a small voice as he felt his heart start to beat once more.
“We’re not going far. We’re just going over to the table over there so Courtney can watch again.”
“Okay,” Harry said and staggered to the teacher’s table.
“Although I should go fetch Luna,” Hermione said absentmindedly. “We did promise her that she could watch the next time we had a show.”
“It’s about time,”Luna’s disembodied voice sounded. The blonde witch slowly pulled off an invisibility cloak, announcing, “I’ve been following you two around for ages waiting for you to say that.”
“Where did you get that cloak?” asked Hermione.
“It’s Harry’s,”she replied, and carefully folded the magical cloak up. “I borrowed it so that I could follow you two.”
“Don’t you want to invite Ron to watch, too?” asked Hermione, clearly not bothered that their audience was growing.
“No, Ronald, the dear man, is quite boisterous when he masturbates. I’m afraid he’d distract from the show. I mean, I’ll cheer and give encouragement. But Ronald makes loud, nearly screaming, grunting sounds when he pleasures himself.” Luna took a seat and commanded, “Well, get on with the show.”
“You’ve been following us?” Harry asked. “But that means you watched as Draco tied Hermione up and threatened to molest me.”
“True,” Luna said casually.
“And you didn’t do anything to stop Malfoy?” the brunette witch asked.
“I told you that I wanted to see a sex show. Even though I had hoped that it would be you and Harry, at that point I would’ve settled for Harry and Draco. I was growing rather desperate.”
“Enough babbling, get on with the show,” Courtney ordered as she took a seat next to Luna.
As Hermione stripped Harry – – who still hadn’t fully recovered from Hermione tugging on Courtney’s tits with her teeth enough to use his hands properly – – Luna asked”Do they take requests?”
“Oh, yes,”Courtney answered. “What would you like to see?”
“Well, I think he should whack his penis against her face,” offered Luna in a sing-song tone.
As Hermione opened Harry’s trousers, she whispered in his ear; “That does sound exciting doesn’t it?”
That was when the shock of seeing his girlfriend playing with another witch’s tit went away. Encouraged by his kinky lover, Harry pulled /’Harry, Jr.’ /out of his pants.
“Yeah, penis!”cheered Luna.
Smiling, Hermione knelt down, closed her eyes, and waited for the playful blow. Now, since Harry wasn’t large, the/ “slap” was more like a “brush.” /But nonetheless, both Courtney and Luna cheered loudly and clapped when the action was played out.
After the unimpressive but still appreciated/ “cock slap,”/ Harry and Hermione proceeded to give the two witches one hell of a show. There was oral sex, nipple tweaking, sensual massages, and hair tugging. But Luna and Courtney gave the lovers a standing ovation when Harry pushed his fore and middle fingers up Hermione’s bottom. Each time Hermione announced an orgasm – – which she did loudly – – the two witches clapped and whistled. And the audience of two began chanting “Swallow, swallow” when it was apparent that Harry was nearing the end.
When the show ended and as the two lovers got dressed, Courtney stood and said; “This is always fun. Next time, tell me in advance of a show and I’ll bring refreshments.”
“See you next time,” Harry bid the Auror farewell as she walked out of the classroom. “I can’t believe I just said that there’ll be a/ ‘next time.’ / God, I’ve gone kinky.”
“That was brilliant,” Luna said happily. “I’ll have to make a Pensieve, so that Ronald and I can revisit this for our own pleasure.”
“Oh, Luna, I have a question,” Hermione began. “Can your father’s printing press make books as well as newspapers?”
“Yes, certainly,”Luna answered. “What are you planning?”
“We’re going to make an updated version of The Magic of Making Love,” the brunette replied. “Harry and I have come to the conclusion that it would be very beneficial to release it now during this troubling time.”
“Understandable. And you would get off on the idea of hundreds of people looking at dirty pictures of you two,” Luna added. “Oh, please tell me there’ll be photos, because I’d gladly be one of those hundreds looking at them.”
“I reckon there would have to be,” Harry said. “You know, to show the reader the proper poses and whatnot.”
“Then I’ll be the one taking the photos!” Luna gushed. “I can’t believe I’ll be helping Harry Potter and Hermione Granger make a book!”
“We’ll be using noms de plume, actually,” informed Hermione. “Yes, we can admit that we’re kinky and have grown to like having people watch, but we’d still like some privacy.”
“Well, you’ll have to alter your features as well then,” Luna stated. “Harry is so recognizable that he’d be spotted straight away.”
“Good point,” the brunette agreed. “I’ll work on some glamour charms, and we’ll start taking photos this weekend”
“Hey Luna, how about you and Ron participate? You know, you two can act as models as well. That way, the reader will have two couples to look at,” offered Harry.
Luna’s response was not given in words as much as it was given in kisses. And it wasn’t just chaste innocent kisses, but the type of kiss where a bystander might get the impression that one of the parties was trying their best to suffocate the other with their tongue.
Harry, who had his hands up in surprise, could do nothing but stand there as the blonde witch dangled from his neck as she assaulted him with her tongue. He looked over at Hermione and was surprised to see that she was smiling as if she found this amusing.
“Um, Luna, that’s my boyfriend,” Hermione stated nonchalantly as the blonde continued to snog Harry.
After a good long time, Luna removed herself from Harry. She hopped in place with a bright smile as she said “Oh, thank you Harry! That would be brilliant!”
Harry wasn’t even given a blink of an eye to recover from Luna’s kiss before the blonde pounced on Hermione. Just as she had with Harry, Luna rammed her tongue deep into Hermione’s mouth. The only difference between the two kisses was that after a few seconds, Hermione returned the kiss with an equal amount of energy. Apparently she had quickly become accustomed to Luna’s kiss and had decided to reciprocate it.
The wizard watched in awe as his girlfriend swapped spit with his best mate’s wife. He saw their tongues dance and fight with one another, teeth scraping against the other witch’s teeth, and their lips pushing each other.
Now, it was perfectly normal that this view caused ‘Harry, Jr.’ to suddenly wake up again. And it was also perfectly normal for a majority of the blood that filled Harry’s brain to be rapidly redirected so that the body could reinforce this spontaneous erection. This caused our hero to become light headed and swayed a touch.
Luna finally pulled away from Hermione’s lips. A thin string of spit still connected the two witches’ mouths.
“You are energetic, aren’t you?” Hermione asked the blonde rhetorically.
The blonde licked her lips and happily commented, “So that’s what Harry tastes like.” She licked her lips once again and added; “I see now why you like to swallow. He’s very yummy.”
“It’s the diet I put him on,” Hermione replied. “I cannot recommend it enough.”
Fighting the hemorrhage that was threatening to end his existence, Harry tugged down his trousers, freeing /’Harry, Jr.’/. And after grabbing Hermione about the shoulders, and while he was dragging Hermione back to the table, he asked Luna”You care to stick around for another show?”
“Can I help?” the blonde asked. She was so excited that she looked to be on the verge of hyperventilating.
“How do you mean?”asked Hermione slightly distracted, as Harry forcibly tore her blouse open.
“Well, for starters, I was hoping to hold Harry’s organ and guide him into your quivering cunny,” she answered.
“Luna! How could you ask such a thing?” asked Hermione, a touch scandalized.
“Because it would be fun!” she replied. The blonde’s enthusiasm was not dampened in the slightest by Hermione’s disapproving tone.
“What would Ron think?” asked Harry. “Wouldn’t he’d be upset if you participated?”
“No, Ronald and I discussed this very scenario before I transfigured him into a mouse,” Luna answered with her eyes still sparkling wildly.
“Why’d you turn Ron into a mouse?” asked Harry.
“Isn’t it obvious? So he could tag along,” Luna said, digging her hand into the pocket of her robe. After a moment, she pulled out her hand and presented a small mouse with flaming red fur sitting in her palm.
“I thought he didn’t want to watch?” Hermione asked.
“Well, he changed his mind,” the blonde stated. “He was still too embarrassed by his loud masturbation, so I figured it would be better if he was a mouse. Since his loud grunts would be just tiny mouse squeaks, he could wank himself to his heart’s content.”
“Oh,” Harry said, trying not to attempt to decipher Luna’s impossible logic.
“And I didn’t tell you about Ronald when Courtney was here because I felt it would’ve been inappropriate to tell her that I had a masturbating mouse in my pocket,” added Luna.
“Of course,”Hermione said as she too tried not to comprehend the blonde witch’s thoughts.
Luna held the mouse (who was her husband) up to her lips and asked, “Ronald; isn’t it all right if I help Harry and Hermione make love?”
Surprisingly, the mouse nodded its head emphatically.
“See, Ronald says yes,” Luna said, and beamed a bright smile at Harry and Hermione.
Harry and Hermione shared a look. The brunette shrugged her shoulders, clearly giving Harry permission to say yes.
“Sure thing,” said Harry.
Squealing like a little girl who found out she had gotten a real live pony on Christmas morning, Luna ran up to the table, placing Ron on it. Both the blonde witch and the mouse watched intently as Harry and Hermione continued to strip naked.
Hermione laid on her back, and as Harry crawled up on top of her, he asked Luna “You ready?” He was expecting to have her take hold of his manhood like she had asked.
“What, no foreplay?” the blonde asked. Before either of the naked lovers could answer Luna’s question, she squealed once again. “Oh, I see, you’ve given me permission to help even more than just guiding. How wonderful!”
Luna bent over so rapidly, that Harry’s initial thought was that someone had punched her in the gut, causing her to collapse in agony. But obviously, Luna was not in pain. She was just very eager to put/ ‘Harry, Jr.’ /in her mouth.
Harry gasped in surprise when a set of lips and tongue belonging to someone other than his girlfriend enveloped his penis. He was in too much shock to try and recoil away.
“LUNA!” screeched Hermione as Luna bobbed twice on Harry’s bits.
“Oh, I’m sorry,”Luna apologized, wiping the spit from her mouth with the back of her hand. “Where are my manners; it should always be ladies first.”
The blonde took hold of Hermione’s legs behind the knees and rolled them up so that the brunette’s bum was in the air. Before Hermione could fight back, Luna dove straight into her exposed shorn muff.
As the blonde worked her tongue and lips on Hermione’s sensitive bits, the brunette moaned. “/O-o-oh- oh/ -she’s rather -/GOOD /-good at this!”
Luna paused and commented, “Well, I did learn a good deal from that Pensieve you made for us.” And with that, the blonde went back to stimulating Hermione.
Harry watched in utter fascination as his lover was eaten out by another witch. When Hermione came, Harry dared to make a suggestion. “It would be rude if Luna didn’t get eaten out. You know, tit for tat, and all that.”
Hermione cocked an eyebrow at him before replying, “Why not?”
“Yippee,” Luna cheered and began to rapidly strip. Once she was naked, she hopped on the table. The two witches repositioned themselves, allowing Hermione better access to Luna’s blonde muff.
The moment Hermione’s lips touched Luna’s flower, Harry almost came. He groaned as he held back his ecstasy.
Ron on the other hand had not faired as well. The red mouse had promptly fainted.
“Poor guy, he’s going to miss one awesome show,” Harry said as his attention returned to the two vigorous witches.
After a moment, Hermione pulled away and said, “You should really experience Harry’s parsletongue magic. It’ll blow your mind.
“Are you offering?” Luna asked hopefully.
“Well, why don’t you spread your legs even wider so that Harry and I can both go down on you at the same time,” Hermione ordered.
Luna did as was requested, and Harry joined his girlfriend. Their cheeks were pressed against each other as their tongues probed and licked Luna’s flower. Thanks to two tongues -and Harry’s wonderful magic -Luna came in no time.
“That was like I was run over by a rampaging curved backed bi-horned plaque eater!” the blonde cheered between pants. “Do it again!”
When all was said and done, Harry was one tired man. Not only had Luna commanded that he continue to use his magical tongue on her for twenty minutes, but when after making love to Hermione, he came in his lover’s mouth once again. And as before, the brunette gladly shared a messy and sticky kiss with Luna. Watching the two witches play with his mess caused Harry to rapidly get another erection. This erection led to another show, one where Luna once again participated. And in a replay of the earlier activities, she and Hermione shared Harry’s discharge. Obviously, this repeated action caused yet another erection.
After it was all done, ‘Harry, Jr.’ was a very, very happy and satisfied organ. Of course it had fallen into a coma, but it was a happy and satisfied coma.
SoG
Early on Saturday morning, Harry, Hermione, Luna, and Ron walked through the secret underground corridor and into the Shrieking Shack.
“Oh, wow,” Ron said in amazement as he looked up at the now opulent interior of the Shack. The alterations that Harry had accidentally made when he and Hermione had made love for the first time were still in place.
“Okay, you two, you go into one of the bedrooms and change, using that glamour charm I taught you. Harry and I will do the same in another room,” Hermione told the other couple.
“Sure thing,” Ron said while eyeing the impressive staircase.
Harry and Hermione made their way to the luxurious master suite. Once there, they parted and entered the separate bathrooms, in order to surprise their partner with their”new” look.
The wizard waved his wand over his face and cast one of the many glamour charms that Hermione had told him about. He eyed himself in the mirror and nodded his head in approval.
“Are you ready?”he called out to the other bathroom, as he entered the bedroom.
“Not just yet,”Hermione answered through the door. “Have you thought of a nom de plume yet?”
“Yeah, I’ll be’Tim Hunter,'” announced Harry. He felt that it was dashing and suited him to a Tee.
“Tim Hunter, I like that,” Hermione said.
“What’s your name going to be?” he asked.
“Mona Puckle” she replied.
“That’s neat,”Harry said.
As Hermione continued to change her appearance, Hedwig swooped in through one of the master suite’s picturesque windows. The owl landed on the wizard’s outstretched arm and presented a letter. Harry note the letter and thanked his familiar. Hedwig hooted happily and flew out the window.
Harry opened the post and read a note from Alicia.
“Thanks for the information, Harry. After your endorsement, I finally worked up the courage and gave the beads a try. That’s why I haven’t responded to your post until now. My boyfriend was more than excited to tug those little bad boys out of my bum. We’ve been playing with it for days on end. Hell, I went to work with them wedged up there – -bending over to pick up packages proved to be a surprising experiment. It was interesting to say the least.
If you have any other toys that you’d like to recommend, please don’t hesitate to let me know.
Love,
Alicia”
While Harry read the note, Hedwig flew in and out of the room twice. Apparently the owl was dumbfounded that the interior of the Shack was so much larger than the exterior, and she was trying to figure out how this could be possible.
“Say hello to ‘Mona Puckle’,” announced Hermione, as she stepped out of the bathroom. Her now strawberry blonde hair was straight and cut short. Her nose was slightly longer with her cheekbones a touch more predominate on her face. A cute little dimple graced her chin.
“Wow, you look smashing,” stated Harry, as Hedwig flew out of the room once more.
Hermione eyed her boyfriend disapprovingly. “For Heaven’s sake, Harry; all you did was change your hair from dark black to dark brown.”
“No, I covered up my scar, too,” Harry protested. As he pointed to his forehead to show off his smooth brow, Hedwig swooped into the room once more, and landed on his arm this time.
“You still have your glasses on. And Hedwig’s perched on your arm,” scolded Hermione. “With just one look, anyone could tell that Harry Potter is Tim Hunter.”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with her,” he said while looking at his owl as the bird took flight once more. “She keeps yo-yoing in and out of the room.”
“Come here,”Hermione said. She led Harry into the bathroom she had used and retrieved her wand. She waved it in a complex pattern in front of Harry’s face for a full four minutes. When she was done, Harry had short and spiky, dirty blonde hair, a square jaw with a cleft chin, and strong cheekbones.
“See, now no one can compare the similarities between Harry Potter and Tim Hunter,” Hermione said proudly.
The disguised couple left the bedroom and made their way to the game room. There they found Ron and Luna waiting for them in their disguises. Luna had changed the color of her eyes to violet, and now had inky black hair that was so long it hung nearly to her knees. Added to her changed appearance, the witch’s cheeks were rounder, both sets of cheeks that is. Ron had lost his gangly appearance with the illusion of an extra fifteen pounds of muscle, and a hint of fat around his waist. His hair was dark black, just as Luna’s, and was medium length with wispy curls. With Ron’s slightly furrowed brow, deep eyes, and half smile he had magically changed his expression so that he looked cool and calm while in deep thought – – or at least Harry thought it was an illusion, because when Ron normally tried to look like he was in deep thought, he often gave the impression that he was confused and a bit frightened.
Luna held up four pairs of black silk eye masks, saying, “I think we should wear these. It will add a touch of sensuality and mystery to the photographs. Also, I believe it will help conceal our identities. If we wear these masks, most people will assume that they are our only means of concealing our identities and won’t attempt to investigate further.”
“That’s brilliant, Luna,” Hermione said, and took one of the offered masks. She tied it around her head and introduced her alter ego. “Hello, I’m Mona Puckle.”
“Hi Mona, my name is Perky Weatherby,” said Luna as she curtsied. The now black haired witch gestured to Ron, stating, “And this is my partner; Neil Gaiman.”
“Hello Neil, I’m Tim Hunter,” Harry greeted and shook Ron’s hand.
“I get this strange impression that we’ve met somewhere before,” Ron playfully returned.
“How peculiar, I get that impression, as well,” Harry said with a laugh.
“Have you come up with a name for the book yet?” asked Luna.
“Not yet,”Hermione replied. “We’ll think of something.”
“I know, how about/’Books of Magic’/?” offered Harry.
“That’s brilliant,” cheered Ron. “‘Books of Magic: the Teachings of Tim Hunter and Mona Puckle, as told to Neil Gaiman!”
“What about me?”Luna asked.
“Oh, yeah. ‘…as told to Neil Gaiman and Perky Weatherby,” corrected Ron.
“If anything, it will have all four of our fake names as authors,” Harry said. “Besides, now that I think about it, I believe ‘Books of Magic’ may already have been written. The last thing I need is to get sued for plagiarism.”
“All right then, we’ll come up with a title later. But for now; let’s get started,” announced Hermione. “I think we should begin by photographing some stretches and limbering exercises. That way the readers can hold some of the positions for the rituals. And we can loosen up for the rest of the necessary poses.”
“Should we do it in the nude?” Luna asked.
“Why not,” Harry answered.
The four friends quickly stripped; not embarrassed or concerned with their nudity in the slightest.
Hermione walked up to Luna and, while looking directly at her enormous boobs, said, “You know, Luna, I think you’ve turned me into a bit of a breast connoisseur.” She reached forward and took hold of each large tit. Hermione squashed them. The milky white flesh of Luna’s ample breasts was compressed between Hermione’s fingers. Hermione admitted; “They’re simply amazing.”
While Hermione continued to fondle and jiggle Luna’s epic titties, Luna decided to return the favor. She, too, reached out and began playing with Hermione smaller, yet still wonderful, breasts. Nipples were pinched, tits were jiggled, and boobs were squished together as the witches giggled and laughed lightheartedly.
After this mutual breast play, Luna looked over at the two practically comatose and openly drooling wizards, and echoed Courtney’s earlier diagnosis: “I think we broke them.”
To Be Continued

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Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor
Chapter Twenty-Four: Grime and Punishment
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 Twenty-Four: Snape reveals the truth that everybody already knew.
“What’s he doing here?” Ron spat through clenched teeth.
Harry’s blood was boiling with rage as he watched the man who had betrayed and murdered Dumbledore walking just a few feet away. Harry wanted to rush up to Snape and hex the traitorous bastard into oblivion.
Before he could react, Harry saw Snape pull a small knife out of his pocket. He watched as Snape cut open his own hand, much like Harry had done shortly before. The greasy git wiped his hand, smearing his blood onto the hidden doorway. The young wizard watched in bewilderment as the door magically appeared, and Snape vanished into the hidden hallway.
“What d’you think he’s doing?” asked Ron, in a more confused than normal tone.
“Maybe he is checking on the Horcruxes for You Know Who,” suggested Luna.
“Why would he?”returned Hermione. “Voldemort’s never checked on his Horcruxes before. Why should he start now? Unless… unless Voldemort has figured out we’re destroying them and he’s having his minions check on the remaining ones! But why would he send one of his followers to do it? This could be bad,” the brunette’s voice grew worried. “Oh, no. What if Voldemort found out what we’re doing and is using his minions to move all of the Horcruxes to a more secure location?”
“Well if that does happen, all you have to do is rub another one out of Harry and track them down again,” Ron offered off-handedly.
“Ronald, don’t use such crude language,” chastised Luna. “‘Rub one out,’ how low. The correct phrase is ‘wank him off.’ And you forgot to add ‘and take it in the face.’ That’s the proper language for this situation. I thought you knew better than that.”
“What are we going to do, Harry?” Hermione asked, clearly trying to ignore Luna and Ron’s exchange.
“We capture him, that’s what,” Harry said flatly.
The three friends stared at Harry for a full two seconds before Ron stated in an overly sarcastic way; “Oh, just capture him. That should be easy. Bloody easy I should say.”
“Harry, Snape is an experienced duelist and a master Legilimens,”informed Hermione. “He’d take us out with little effort. The four of us wouldn’t be much of a challenge, even allowing for both of our power boosts. He’d be able to see our moves through his Legilimency and block them or even stop us before we finished our incantations.”
“If we play our cards right, we won’t have to duel him,” Harry said as a sly grin stretched across his face. For the first time since Snape appeared, Harry turned and faced his friends. “We set some traps and snatch him. Hermione and Luna, you two know more traps than Ron and I do. Lay as many traps right outside the door as you can. Leg-Lockers, Binding Jinxes, Disarming Traps, anything you can think up.”
“Do you think that’ll work?” asked Luna.
“Why not?” returned Harry. “For all Snape knows, he’s disarmed the traps outside the exit. He won’t be expecting any new ones when he comes out.”
Without another word, Luna and Hermione dashed toward the hidden entrance and immediately began twirling their wands about, casting trap after trap on the area just outside the door. Every few seconds one witch would suggest a trap to cast to the other; “Try Finnegan’s Folly right there”or “How about Carmen’s Bumbler, it’s an oldie but goody” to name a few. As the two witches worked as quickly as they could, Ron and Harry had their wands out and leveled at the door, ready to launch hexes and jinxes in case Snape were to come out while their witches incanted.
A few minutes later, Hermione and Luna, satisfied that enough traps were laid, rejoined Harry and Ron in the shadows across the street. All four stared at the invisible door in silence, almost willing Snape to come out so they could capture him. Thankfully, the teens’ patience was not tried too much.
The door popped into existence less than a minute after Hermione and Luna had completed their task. Harry could almost hear the old hinges of the door creak from across the street as it slowly opened. A sour and disappointed looking Snape was framed in the dark doorway. He glanced to his left and then to the right, sneering at the empty space in front of him. Satisfied that no one was watching, the Potions Master stepped out of the doorway. The moment his foot touched the ground outside the door a loud bang echoed through the air.
Two things happened at the exact same time. First; Snape’s feet were tugged backward, as if an invisible rope had pulled violently on the limbs; making the surly wizard pitch forward. Second, Snape’s wand sprung from his hand and soared through the air. It clattered on the ground a dozen feet away from the greasy wizard.
As Snape continued to pitch forward, he tried to break his fall by placing his hands in front of him. This attempted act of self-preservation only triggered two of Hermione’s and Luna’s traps. A Body Bind hex caused Snape’s limbs to snap together while Levicorpus hoisted the wizard into the air by his ankles.
A victorious smile appeared on Harry’s face.
“We did it!”cheered Hermione.
“You doubted my plan?” the bespectacled wizard said with a false air of disapproval.
“Oh, will you ever forgive me for my transgressions?” returned Hermione with an equal helping of irony.
As the four friends moved in a group to the immobile and inverted villain, Ron added to Harry’s and Hermione’s interchange. And Ron, being Ron of course, missed his friends’ tone and spoke with sincerity. “Of course we beat him. We knocked his arseout in our third year, remember? And all we used was just an Expelliarmus; a simple charm we learned in our second year.”
A few feet away from their dangling detainee, Ron gasped, as if an epiphany came to him. “Hey, wouldn’t it be cool if you defeated You Know Who with an Expelliarmus, Harry.”
“Don’t be asinine, Ron,” Hermione glared at Ron the way an instructor stares at a lovable dim-witted child. “Voldemort’s the most feared and powerful dark wizard in a century. A simple Expelliarmus can’t defeat him. It is a disarming charm; it doesn’t really do much to an opponent if one is able to think on their feet.”
“But, what if-” he began to defend himself.
“Ronald, Hermione is right,” Luna said softly and kindly… like the way an instructor speaks compassionately to a lovable dim-witted student. “To even think that such a childish spell could defeat someone like You Know Who is just plain dumb, my love.”
Ron’s shoulders slumped in defeat. Feeling sorry for his best mate, Harry patted the red haired wizard on the back. “If my life wasn’t in mortal danger during aduel with the most powerful and feared wizard of our times, I would definitely try to cast an Expelliarmus on him, Ron.”
“Thanks, Harry,”Ron smiled.
Turning his attention away from his lovable dim-witted friend, Harry stared angrily at his former potions professor.
“Looks like justice will have its day, you bastard,” Harry threatened.
Snape’s fathomless black eyes narrowed on Harry’s. Harry knew that the git was using Legamcyto probe his thoughts, but the young wizard didn’t care. In a few moments, he’d bodily haul Snape to the Ministry so they could chuck his arse in Azkaban.
“You destroyed theHorcrux,” stated Snape.
“Yeah, I did,” the raven haired wizard said in a dismissive manner. “And a few of the others as well. Your master’s time is running short,” he finished boldly.
“Wait, you found the cup?” Snape asked.
“Yep, found and destroyed. Including the diary, ring, and the anvil, that means Voldemort is down four Horcruxes,” Harry gloated.
“How did you find them so quickly?” the greasy wizard demanded.
“A simple searching ritual,” he answered proudly.
“The Dark Lord has dozens of wards against any form of magical searching,” Snape argued. “How could a wizard as feeble as you bypass them?”
“I have my ways,”Harry said and his mind drifted back to the wonderful han – err – ritual that he and Hermione performed. Which was a mistake.
Snape’s eyes bulged and he began looking between Harry and Hermione in disbelief. It was at that moment that Harry made amental note not to recall intimate moments in front of a master Legilimens.
Again, Snape’s eyes narrowed on Harry. “I thought you looked at Granger like she was your sister,” the villain said with clear disgust.
“My ‘sister’?” Harry shot back with mirrored revulsion. “How the hell would you think that?”
“It was an impression I got,” answered Snape. “I assumed that you felt that she was nothing more than a sister to you. It is obvious to me that ishow you acted in regards to your feelings for Granger.”
“How I acted? I’m an only bloody child. How the fuck would I know what having asister felt like?” retorted Harry. “So, how could I have acted like I felt that Hermione was a sister? That makes no sense at all. Not once since I met Hermione have I ever thought of her as a sister, not even in passing. So it would’ve been an uneducated assumption on your part to conclude that I had brotherly feelings for her. As a best friend, yes; as a sister, no! Besides, if I thought of anyone like asibling it would’ve been Ron. And that’s only because I looked at Mrs. Weasley as a surrogate mother; especially after the fiasco that was the Third Task of the Tri-Wizard.”
For some inexplicable reason, Hermione snorted a chuckle.
“What?” Harry turned, asking his girlfriend.
“Oh, nothing,” she said. The twinkle in her eyes told Harry it was indeed something. But before he could press the issue, a thought occurred to him; something just a little bit more important than finding out why Hermione laughed.
“Wait. How’d you know about the Horcruxes anyway?”he demanded of Snape. “I thought Voldemort would’ve never told anyone about them.”
“Just as slow as ever, Potter,” Snape said snidely. “Ask yourself why would the Dark Lord willingly divulge such a vulnerability?”
“I just asked you that,” Harry snapped. “You can’t ask me my own question back. You’re the prisoner and I’m the one who captured you. It’s not proper.”
Snape smiled his greasy, crooked tooth smile in response.
“I can hex you, you know,” threatened Harry while waving his wand in front of Snape’s hooked nose.
“Because Voldemort didn’t,” Hermione answered Snape’s question. “At least, not knowingly.”
Harry turned and faced Hermione once again. The witch had an expression somewhere between understanding and confusion. As if what she had said had seemed clear but had brought up a bevy of other questions.
“Ah, I can practically hear the gears turning in your puny little minds,” mocked Snape. It infuriated Harry that even though Snape was bound and defenseless, he still seemed to have the upper hand.
“I say we disregard his motivation and just drag his bottom to the Ministry,” Luna threatened, although her tone wasn’t very intimidating; the way she spoke sounded like she was offering to bake biscuits and share them with the potions master.
“I agree with Luna,” Ron said. He glowered at Snape before turning to his wife and whispering in her ear, “Don’t use the word ‘bottom’ when threatening someone. It ruins the effect.”
“You’re… you’re working against him?” speculated Harry.
“Very good, Potter. It seems the Headmaster’s faith in you wasn’t completely wasted,” Snape said scornfully.
“I think he’s still lying,” Ron snapped. “He’s just playing us. Trying to distract us so he can escape.”
“Yes, you’ve discovered my brilliant plan, Weasley,” the greasy wizard glared at Ron.
“You killed Dumbledore. I saw it with my own eyes,”Harry snarled. “Why should I believe you when you say you’re working against Voldemort?”
“I have a vial of Veritaserum in my left robe pocket,” the greasy gitstated. “Feed me three drops, and you’ll know I am speaking the truth.”
“It’s a colorless and odorless potion, how the hell can we tell if it’s Veritaserum and not just water?” demanded Hermione.
“I still fail to see why so many people consider you a brilliant witch, I have always known you to be just slightly above average for a Gryffindor, which is not saying much,” Snape said. “A child could tell you that you can easily verify the potion by using it on one of yourselves, and then ask something that the test subject wouldn’t normally reveal.”
“What if it’s apoison?” Luna asked. “If one of us takes it, we could die.”
“And how would killing one of you dolts be helpful to me? If it was a poison, I would’ve suggested that all four of you take it, not just one,” the former Head of Slytherin snapped. “If it was a poison and I did trick one of you into taking it, I’d still have to deal with the other three. And in my current predicament, frozen, dangling upside-down in mid-air without a wand, the three of you, despite your lowly skills, would make short work of me. What good would it do if I poisoned only one of you?”
The four friends shared a look. Harry was hesitant, what he really wanted to do was drag the son of a bitch down to the Ministry so that they could chuck him into Azkaban. But apart of the young wizard was wondering if Snape was telling the truth; what if he truly was working on bringing Voldemort down? What if Snape was still a spy for the light?
“I’ll do it,” Ron offered, his voice hesitant and soft. “I’ll test the potion.”
“Are you sure?”asked Harry.
“Yeah,” Ron replied and took a step toward Snape. “Um, how about we make a Portkey to St. Mango’s, just in case it is a poison, though?”
Luna toed off one of her shoes. Bending over at the hips, she tapped her wand against her discarded shoe and incanted, “Portus.”
As the shoe trembled and glowed, Ron stood in front of Snape.
“The vial is in my front left pocket,” the captured wizard said.
While Ron dug around in Snape’s robes, Harry asked his former instructor “You always keep avial of Veritaserum on you?”
“Yes, among anumber of other potions, including several antidotes,” Snape stated arrogantly. “I find it best, unlike others whom I won’t mention,” he glared directly at Harry, “to be prepared.”
Finally, Ron tugged a small glass vial out of Snape’s robes.
“Put three drops on your tongue, Weasley,” the Potions Master commanded.
Uncorking the tiny bottle, Ron nervously asked Luna “Is that Portkeyready?”
“Yes, Ronald,”replied Luna. Her eyes were wide(well… wider than normal) with anxious worry.
The red haired wizard opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue. With a steady hand, Ron tilted the vial and cautiously dropped three dollops of the liquid on his tongue. He swallowed, placed the stopper back in the vial, turned to face his friends and said “I don’t think it wor-”
That’s when Ron’s expression went blank. His eyes glazed over and his mouth hung open and slack jawed.
Out of the corner of Harry’s eye, he saw Luna run her hands over the front of her robes. He asked”What are you doing, Luna?”
“Checking to see if my breasts are exposed,” the blonde witch answered lightly. “Ronald gets that same expression whenever he sees my breasts. I was worried that they had popped out accidentally. They do that sometimes, you know.”
“Really, his expression changed?” Hermione asked no-one in particular under her breath. “I can’t tell. He looks like he always does to me.”
“It’s the Veritaserum, you fools,” Snape spoke slowly, as if Harry and his friends had difficulty understanding such a basic concept. “Ask Weasley your questions so you can verify the potion.”
“Okay, Ron, tell us something you don’t want us to know,” Harry asked. If the potion truly was Veritaserum, Ron would answer truthfully.
In a daze, Ron stated “I really liked it when Luna stuck her finger into my bottom.”
Harry, Hermione, and Snape balked at Ron’s admission while Luna giggled happily.
“So much so that Iwant her to do it again,” the red haired wizard continued, unfortunately. This caused the three who balked to take astep back – which was rather difficult for Snape seeing that he was bound in place and hanging upside-down. But Luna only seemed encouraged. In fact, Harry assumed by the eager look in her eyes that she was willing to acquiesce to Ron’s request right there in the alleyway. And knowing her past history, such an event was a definite possibility. Harry’s assumption was confirmed when the blonde witch held up her index finger and began to wiggle it about. “I know I acted shocked and hurt when she did it that one time,” Ron forged ahead. “But really, I was just surprised at how much I liked it, to be honest.”
“Um, that’s enough Ron, we know it’s Veritaserum. You can stop,” Harry implored almost desperately. He was terrified that Luna, encouraged by her husband’s revelation would bound over to Ron and jab one of her digits up his bum. Not wanting to see that, he begged Ron. “Please, stop.”
“In fact, I’m hoping she’ll use two fingers next time,” Ron added.
“Stupefy!” Hermione cried out frantically. A bolt of red magic leapt from her wand and struck Ron, squarely in the chest. The gangly wizard collapsed to the ground unconscious.
“Hermione, I won’t be able to fulfill Ronald’s wishes if he isn’t awake,” Luna said in her usual dreamy tone. With her left hand she caressed her right index finger, as if warming it up for the nefarious purpose.
“That was the point,” Hermione said with a desperate edge to her voice.
“Well, I suppose Icould still do my wifely duties, even if he is unconscious,” the blonde said, taking a step toward her unconscious husband.
Hermione pointed her wand at Luna and warned, “Don’t make me use this on you.”
With the brunette’s wand leveled at her head, Luna took a step back, albeit clearly disappointed.
“If I still held my position as professor at Hogwarts, I might’ve considered giving Gryffindor points for your actions, Granger,” Snape said to the brunette witch and then reiterated; “Might have.”
“All right, let’s get this over with,” Harry said.
Hermione nodded and walked over to Ron. While she picked up the vial of Veritaserum Harry waved his wand at Snape. The Potions Master slowly pivoted in air, turning right side up.
“Open your mouth,”Hermione, whose voice showed no sympathy for the magically bound wizard, commanded. Snape opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue as far as it could go. Even with this contortion of his features, the gitstill looked like he was sneering at Harry.
Carefully, Hermione measured out three drops of Veritaserum onto Snape’s tongue. He swallowed and a second later his face went blank much like Ron’s had.
Knowing that the Veritaserum would make Snape answer nothing but the truth, Harry asked “Why are you here?”
“I am on a mission to retrieve the Dark Lord’s Horcruxes so that they can be destroyed and he can be finally defeated,” Snape spoke in a flat and emotionless tone.
“Who gave you this mission?” asked Harry.
“Headmaster Dumbledore,” he replied. “Due to the injuries he received when he destroyed the ring-Horcruxand his advanced age, the Headmaster was dying. Dying painfully. He had come up with the plan for me to carry out Draco’s mission of killing him for the Dark Lord. That way I’d save Draco from any evil act… well, murder at any rate. And I’d show agreat man who was suffering immensely mercy. My actions would also entrench myself in the Dark Lord’s ranks. The Dark Lord would herald me for killing his hated enemy. He would reward me by making me his most trusted servant. And with that trust, I would be able to gather information on the whereabouts of his Horcruxes.”
“How’d you do that?” inquired Harry. “I don’t imagine he’d ever divulge the secret to his immortality to anyone.”
“I am a Potion Master,” he answered. If it wasn’t for the effects of the Veritaserum making him speak in a monotone, Harry was positive that Snape would have been overly arrogant and degrading to the younger wizard. “I used a combination of Sleeping Draughts and Veritaserum to pry the information out of him as he slumbered. If he had remembered divulging any of his secrets, which was unlikely, it would’ve seemed like he had done so in a dream.”
Recalling the missing Horcrux, the one they couldn’t find through the han – err – ritual, Harry asked “How many locations have you gotten?”
“Just this one, Gryffindor’s useless wizarding anvil,” Snape replied. “I’ve had to work slowly, only taking small pieces of information from the Dark Lord, asking about traps and wards along with the location, night by night. I feared that to ask more than one question a night would alert him to my mission, and I’d be killed.”
Harry cursed silently. At this rate, he’d never find the missing Horcrux.
Pushing that depressing revelation to the side, Harry returned his thoughts to Snape. The git was telling the truth, he was still working for the light. The bespectacled wizard was still angry that Snape had killed Dumbledore, despite the fact that it was an act of mercy that Dumbledore had not only welcomed but encouraged. Then aquestion came to Harry; why was Snape working for the light? As far as Harry knew, Snape was a bigot and pure blood elitist even though he himself was of mixed heritage. Curiosity got the better of the young wizard and he asked, “Why did you join the Order?”
“I am in love with your mother,” was his answer. “Even to this day.”
Harry was floored. Snape betrayed his master out of love. And love for Harry’s own mother. Yet, Harry recalled how Snape had cruelly called Lily a Mudblood in the Pensivememory. How could he have called her such a foul name if he was in love with her?
“Even though she was a mudblood, I still masturbate ferociously to her memory,” Snape continued.
At that moment, Harry lost control of his bladder. The concept of Snape pleasuring himself over anything was highly disturbing. The fact that greasy git was doing so to the memory of Harry’s mother made it downright terrifying for the young wizard. As his warm urine flowed down his trousers, he noticed out of the corner of his eyes that Hermione’s complexion had gone asickly green, and Luna had blanched and held her hands in front of her mouth, apparently to stop the vomit from erupting from her lips. They too were just as disturbed by Snape’s admission.
“It is truly disgusting just how often I abuse myself with the thought of Lily, even now, but particularly when I was still a student,” Snape forged ahead. “By my seventh year, my right forearm was twice the size of my left.”
Silently, Harry begged Hermione to stun Snape like she had done to Ron, because fear had paralyzed Harry and he couldn’t do it himself. Unfortunately, the same fear that had rendered Harry a statue had claimed Hermione as well.
“In my third year, I cut holes in the pockets of my robes,” the elder wizard regrettably persistent. “Whenever Lily spoke to someone… Iconstantly followed her, lurking in the shadows just to hear the mudblood’s angelic voice as she talked with the other students… I would discreetly slip my hands through those holes and fondle myself. Just the sound of her sweet voice was enough to get me hard as steel. I had gotten so skilled at defiling myself under my robes that I could carry on a conversation with another student while that gorgeous mudblood red-head had her own private discussion. I could pleasure myself, with no one the wiser. Many, many times did I ejaculate in my own shorts while imagining actually speaking to her, be it about schoolwork, the weather, politics, or whatever other topics came up.
“One time, while Lily was studying in the Library, she had turned her back and, seeing my chance, I slinked out of the nearby dark alcove where I was hiding and defiling myself – which I did often – and nicked her Charm’s notes. That night I stripped naked and rubbed her delicious parchment all over my bare and sensitive flesh. The words she had written danced over my taught nipples. In a way, I was cleansing myself with her essence when I did that. That night, that wondrously glorious night, I came so much that I lost consciousness,” Snape spoke. “When I anonymously returned her notes, I heard Lily asking her friends how the recovered parchment could have gotten so badly crumpled. I fantasized that if I ever had the nerve to talk to that wondrous mudblood, I could tell her the truth and that she would see how much I loved her and in turn she would do her duty as a non-pureblood and fall madly in love with me. I dreamt about bending her over a table and slapping my manhood against the milky white flesh of her buttocks.”
Just when Harry thought it couldn’t get worse, Snape uttered sixteen disgusting words. On their own, these sixteen words were far from revolting. But strung together and said by Snape in reference to Harry’s mother was what made it truly horrible:
“I often imagine what Lily’s beautiful green eyes would look like framed with my white seed.”
Thankfully one of Harry’s limbs broke free of the paralyzing fear at that moment. And even more satisfying, it wasn’t his wand-arm. Instead, his right leg sprung up and kicked his heel directly into Snape’s groin. It was as if a part of Harry was subconsciously punishing Snape for thinking of his mother in such a disgusting manner.
If Snape had not been under the effects of a Body Bind, he would no doubt have ended up on the ground of the alley, curled up in a tight ball. Having been denied the privilege of doubling up into the fetal position, all the wizard could do was roll his eyes into his skull. A high pitch whine, like steam escaping from a kettle, sounded from Snape’s thin and crooked lips.
“Kick him again,”Hermione prayed in a small voice. Luna, still pressing her hands against her mouth, nodded her head passionately in agreement.
“I deserved that,”Snape groaned out, his voice still a note higher than normal. Harry took solace in the fact that the dirty pervert who stalked his mother even after her death was still under the effects of Veritaserum which meant that what he said was true and he did deserved to be kicked. Of course, even if Snape had not made this statement, Harry would’ve still felt justified in his actions.
For the next few minutes, Harry fought the urge to give into Hermione’s suggestion and beat Snape into a pulp; particularly around the groin region. Harry knew that he would feel better if Snape was bruised and bloodied; especially around the groin. He paced back and forth in front of the bound wizard, every now and again, Harry’s leg twitched, aching to kick the stalker, mainly around the crotch. But the disgusting perverted stalker was helping to bring down Voldemort. And since he was one of Voldemort’s trusted lieutenants, Harry could use him; not only to help find the missing Horcrux, but to gain relevant information on Voldemort and his followers. So, unfortunately, Harry came to conclusion not to beat Snape to within an inch (mainly on and around the groin region) of his life for the greater good.
After Harry canceled the Body Bind, Snape fell to his knees and vomited on the ground. While Snape tried to regain his composure, Harry asked Hermione to revive Ron.
Snape stood and locked eyes with Harry. Judging by his lack of a dazed expression, Harry assumed that the effects of the truth potion had worn off. There in the black pits of his eyes, Harry could see that Snape still loathed him, probably even more now that Harry knew his secrets. But underneath the abhorrence was a hint of compliance; Snape knew he had to team up with Harry in order to bring down Voldemort.
“I can assume you know the locations of the other Horcruxes through that… ritual?” Snape asked in an even tone.
“One of them yes,”Harry replied. “Slytherin’s locket is with a bloke named Zardoz. He lives at a place called Founders’ Cove.”
“I’m familiar with him,” the elder wizard stated.
“I know about Voldemort, but he’s under the Fidelius and I can’t track him down,” continued Harry. “There is one other Horcrux, but I can’t find it for some reason.”
The potion master became lost in thought for a moment. Then, after some silent consideration, Snape spoke “I will deal with Zardoz.”
“We can do it!”snapped Harry; offended that Snape didn’t think he could get the Horcrux away from its current owner.
“I can retrieve the item with subtlety and tack,” Snape said contentiously.
“And we can’t?”Hermione heatedly returned.
“Did you not notice that you left a fifty foot corpse of a mutilated Basilisk back in that chamber?”Snape asked rhetorically. “Because if you consider that to be tactful or subtle then you have more to learn than Ihad thought.
“What were you planning on doing? Asking Zardoz to hand the locket over? From what I’ve heard about the man tells me that he would never part with such a prized possession,” Snape jeered. “I can take the Horcruxright out from under his nose and Zardoz would never know.”
“You won’t hurt him will you?” asked Harry. He hated to admit it, but Snape was a damn good spy and could probably do what he had just boasted. And if Snape was able to deal with Zardoz and the locket, it would be a weight off of Harry’s shoulders.
“Of course Iwon’t,” Snape replied angrily. “You and your girlfriend can busy yourselves with finding the missing Horcrux.”
Apparently satisfied that the conversation was over, Snape swirled his black robes around in a theatrical manner before Apparating away with acrack.
“What a wanker,” insulted Ron.
Referring to Snape as a “wanker” was clearly too much for Luna. With Ron’s comment, the blonde witch was obviously reminded about Snape’s revelation of masturbating habitually, causing Luna to lose control. With a loud gurgling and splashing sound, Luna emptied the contents of her stomach down the front of Ron. Her vomit splashed and flowed down his belly, groin, and legs, pooling around his feet and in his shoes.
“Um, did I miss something?” a bewildered Ron asked looking at the great globs of partially digested food and bile dribbling down his trousers.
“Just be thankful you did,” Harry said with a frown, trying to erase the memory of what Snape had said from his mind.
*
After cleaning up and returning to the castle, the four friends ate dinner. Actually, Ron ate all four of the dinners while Harry, Hermione, and Luna, having lost their appetites thanks to Snape, didn’t eat.
As Ron reached across the table to steal some food from Hermione’s plate, Harry looked across the Hall at a sixth-year Ravenclaw. The younger wizard smiled directly at Harry and gave him a thumbs-up signal. The nameless wizard then mouthed the words “Thanks, mate” (that or “Let’s date,” Harry was hoping for the former).
“What’s he on about?” asked Harry.
Glancing up from her now-barren plate, Hermione asked, “Who?”
“Some bloke over there,” he pointed in the Ravenclaw table’s general direction. “He just smiled at me and gave me a ‘thumbs up’. Like I did something to be proud of or something.”
“Everybody’s acting strange lately,” commented Hermione. “When we first walked in here, a couple of witches from Hufflepuff blushed and then winked at me.”
“It is the SpottedWollcock’s mating season,” Luna offered and left it at that, assuming that everyone knew what it implied.
Ignoring the peculiar actions of his peers as well as Luna’s bizarre explanation, Harry returned to watching Ron eat everyone’s dinner.
*
Thankfully, by the next day, the shock of Snape’s seemingly favorite hobby had worn off and Harry, Hermione, and Luna were able to eat once again. Of course even with their renewed appetites, Ron still nicked food off of their plates.
That night, as they were preparing for a quiet night in bed, Hermione broached a subject. She said; “That was very nice what you said about Molly: how you think of her as a mother. I’m sure she’d be tickled pink to hear that.”
“Yeah,” Harry said with a genuine smile. He imagined Mrs. Weasley gushing happily and pulling Harry into a rib-breaking hug.
“And I know that Ron isn’t very expressive, but I’m sure he’s proud that you look at him as abrother,” Hermione continued, slipping on her silk pajamas.
Then, an overly confused expression appeared on her face, she was undoubtedly forcing it for effect. Tapping her finger on her chin thoughtfully, Hermione turned to Harry, as he was tugging the bed sheets down to crawl into bed, and asked; “Tell me Harry; if Molly’s like a mother and Ron’s a brother, what does that make Ginny to you?”
“What are you getting at?” Harry asked, dubious of his girlfriend’s intentions.
“Well, Ginny is Molly’s daughter. And she’s Ron’s sister,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “Since you look at those two as mother and brother… wouldn’t that make Ginny asister?”
A wicked, nay downright evil grin popped up on Hermione’s face.
“You snogged a girl who’s like asister,” she said devilishly. “And you felt her tits… devoid of any substance that most would consider breasts, but you felt up the flat-chested bintwho’s like a sister none the less!”
With an odd and uncharacteristic calmness, Harry waited for Hermione’s joke to end. Normally, Harry would’ve been revolted at such an issue. But a naughty thought of his own occurred to him and he was waiting for Hermione to finish so he could act upon it.
Clearly disappointed that Harry was not reacting like he normally did (i.e. screaming, turning green, and so on), Hermione decided to twist the proverbial knife to get a response out of him. “Not only is she like a sister, but she looks like your mother! Is incest really that appealing to you, Harry? It must be since Ginny, the girl you kissed and fondled, is the virtual epitome of incest for you.”
“Are you finished?” he asked coolly.
“You’re no fun,”she pouted, disappointed that Harry wasn’t nearly in tears.
Harry took his cue and leapt onto the bed. Deftly, he tumbled across the mattress, sat on the edge, and grabbed Hermione around her waist. Before she could even flinch, he tossed her over his lap and smacked her round bottom hard. Hermione yelped in a combination of pain, surprise and arousal.
“Bad, naughty little witch for toying with me like that,” Harry scolded and spanked her through her pajamas again.
“OW!” she half cried, half cheered.
“You shouldn’t mock me like that,” he said and tugged her pajama bottoms down, exposing her knickers-covered bum. Harry hooked his thumb under the left edge of her knickers and his index finger under the right. He pulled his fingers into a fist, causing the cotton unmentionables into a thin band. Next, Harry pulled on the band, wedging the fabric between Hermione’s round cheeks. The witch groaned out loudly as her knickers tugged against her sensitive flower.
“Naughty little witches like you need to be punished,” Harry said with a broad grin. “Don’t they?”
While still tugging her knickers up, Harry used his free hand and slapped her bare right cheek.
“I asked the naughty little witch a question,” Harry said. “Don’t bad little witches like you need to be punished?”
“Oh, hell yes,”she hissed out. “Spank my mischievous bottom.”
Harry proceeded to slap each cheek in turn with a rapid series of light smacks. While spanking one cheek, Harry watched entranced as the other jiggled from the blow.
Once the witch had a nice even pink hue to her skin, Harry increased the strength and speed of his blows. In no matter of time, Hermione was cheering; “OW! YES! OW! HARDER! OW! MORE!”
After a good full three minutes, Harry paused. He massaged her red and welt-covered bum while he spoke. “A naughty little witch who says vile things about her boyfriend needs to be punished. I should spank your bottom ’til you learn your lesson.”
“Oh, Merlin, yes,”she breathed out. “Please make me learn my lesson.”
He pulled her knickers, which were visibly damp from where they had rubbed against her flower, halfway down her thighs. Now that his hand wasn’t holding Hermione’s knickers in place, Harry was free to use both hands to paddle his lover’s bottom. Almost immediately, his hands fell into a rhythm. The instant one hand left her skin, the other smacked her round bottom. He marveled at the sight of her glowing bum as it bounced and jiggled wildly due to the blows. It looked like the sea during a storm.
Hermione was so excited that she was hissing short, rapid breaths in and out through gritted teeth. Also, Harry could feel her love juices trickling down his leg and staining the sheets.
A few minutes later, Hermione’s bottom took on the appearance of a smooth, polished, and very red ruby.
“Oh, God, Harry; Iwant you,” she groaned out. Her voice was husky with lust.
Even though ‘Harry, Jr.’ was more than willing to take the task, the organ was painfully hard, Harry wanted to toy with Hermione a bit longer.
“Naughty little witches often don’t get what they want,” he said with mirth.
“WHAT?” Hermione’s head snapped back and she stared daggers at him for his defiance.
Looking directly at her spiteful stare with a wicked twinkle in his eyes, Harry gave Hermione another painful spank. Her face lit up and her mean expression turned into a begging one in the blink of an eye.
“Please,” she said pitifully. “I need you.”
“Oh, no, you hurt me with your words and I’m still mad at you,” he said evenly. “And since you’re being punished,” he spanked her. “I think I won’t give in.”
Tears of frustration practically flowed from Hermione’s brown-green eyes. They grew wide with desire and need. It gave her a desperate look. Harry found himself loving the sense of temporary power her desperation gave him.
Harry remembered that he had been originally put off by Courtney’s suggestion about taking control every once in a while. But now that he had Hermione begging him for a shag, he made amental note to properly thank the Auror trainee.
“Damn it, Harry, take me right now!” Hermione demanded desperately.
“Um…” Harry paused and pretended to mull over her request. “No,” he said curtly and slapped her bright red bum.
Hermione shouted arather naughty word in disappointment.
“Such harsh language,” reprimanded Harry, and gave her another swat which caused her to curse again. With another spank, Hermione buried her face in the bed sheets and growled loudly.
“Oh, my poor bad little witch,” Harry playfully mocked as he gently rubbed her sore backside. “She’s all dripping. My bad witch wants it bad. Doesn’t she?”
Even though he could not see her face, Harry was positive that Hermione was rolling her eyes with annoyance at this question. With achuckle in his voice, he repeated the question. “The naughty little witch wants it, doesn’t she?”
To punctuate the fact that he wanted her to answer, Harry gave Hermione’s left bum-cheek astrong squeeze.
“Oh, yes give it to me,” Hermione said in a passionless voice. “Make me scream. Cum inside me. Blah. Blah. Blah.”
As punishment for not playing along, Harry gave her bottom three hard swats.
“Oh, yes! Give it to me!” Hermione cried out, this time, very passionately.
Smiling like the cat that ate the canary, Harry said “No.”
“Har-r-ry,” Hermione moaned pitifully. “Give it to me.”
“Okay,” Harry caved. “A little.”
“How are you going to give me ‘a little’?” she asked, once again looking over her shoulder.
“Like this,” he answered and slid his hand down between her glowing cheeks. He pushed his middle finger into her sopping folds.
“Oh,” she breathed out. “That’s how.”
While he stimulated Hermione with his fingers, Harry kept his other hand busy by spanking her bum at random intervals. A few minutes and a fairly loud orgasm later, a very satisfied Hermione gasped for breath on Harry’s lap. Wriggling her tummy against his erection, Hermione purred “We should take care of that.”
“That’s a good idea,” Harry agreed. “I’m up for a blow job.”
“My, aren’t we all demanding tonight,” she said with a wicked smile.
“There are better things to do with your mouth right now besides talking,” Harry stated impishly while pointing to the bulge in his pants.
“Okay, I’ll do it only if you keep talking to me like that,” she requested.
“Does my naughty little witch want to give ‘Harry, Jr.’ a tongue massage?” he asked.
“That’ll work,”Hermione said and slipped off of Harry’s lap. She moved slowly and gingerly because of her obviously sore bum. With a pleasant hiss, Hermione knelt between Harry’s knees.
While Hermione tugged down Harry’s trousers, he asked “Did you want me to talk dirty in something like a play by play? You know, something like ‘That’s it, free my willy and give it a kiss.'”
“Whatever you feel like saying, Harry,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes.
“Okay,” he smiled. “How about the naughty little witch giving me a squeeze…”
For the next few minutes, Hermione gave her lover a very energetic hummer. She seemed encouraged by Harry’s dirty comments, such as; “My, you look awfully pretty with that in your mouth” and”Do my balls feel good on your chin?” All the while, Hermione blushed furiously, clearly turned on by his efforts in dirty talk.
After he finished- and Hermione swallowed, Harry asked the heavens “What great deed did I do to get such a naughty witch as a present?”

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Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor
Chapter Twenty-Six: Did Someone Mention Plural?
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 Twenty-Six: Tempers flare and a shocking revelation or two… perhaps three.
“Lousy son of a bitch, I’ll kill him!” Those eight words had been repeated constantly by Hermione as she stomped down the hall. After Harry had told her the devastating news that Ron had been lending out the “instructional” Pensieve Memory that the pair had made, the brunette witch dug through Harry’s trunk, pulled out the Marauders’ Map, said the proper incantation, then promptly began chanting”Lousy son of a bitch, I’ll kill him!”
Harry followed Hermione to the Gryffindor Tower with a mixture of rage that equaled his lover’s, but also with a sense of disappointment. Ron had now betrayed his trust for the second time and it cut through Harry.
“We should humiliate him first,”Harry offered through gritted teeth. “We can alter that prank we pulled on Fred and George. You know the one that made them see through old witches’ clothes. We can change it so that every time he sees Luna naked, he’ll actually see that letch Snape wanking off. Oh, it’ll be great! I can imagine him now trying to be intimate with Luna and suddenly, he’s kissing that greasy bastard. Or even make him see Molly. Nah, Snape would be loads better.”
“No. Take too long,” Hermione growled. “Just kill the son of a bitch!”
When the couple reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, the painting asked “Password?”
“I’ll kill him!” Hermione spat. Pure rage flowed off of the witch.
The painting, obviously sensing that Hermione was not to be trifled with, swung open. Hermione led the charge into the Common Room and up to the very top floor of the tower, to where Ron and Luna’s marital room was located. Not even bothering to knock, Hermione threw open the door and barged into the married couple’s private room.
“Oh, hello, Harry, Hermione,” a very topless – and clearly comfortable in that state – Luna greeted. “Ronald and I were about to have sex. Would you care to watch or even join in?”
“I’ll kill him!” repeated Hermione.
“Now, Hermione, that wasn’t one of the options,” Luna said calmly as if it was quite common for Ron to get death threats. “Either group sex or voyeur; no violence. I really must insist.”
“Where is he?” Harry demanded, his tone barely concealing his anger.
“He’s getting ready for sex. We’re trying some role-playing exercises,”the blonde witch said, feeling completely natural talking about such things while having her sizable breasts exposed. “It will be very enjoyable. I’m playing the part of a street walker who lost her money and has to make up for such a transgression to her employer with sex.”
Just then, a visibly excited Ron came out of the loo wearing nothing but a very large purple silk hat with a vibrant peacock feather sticking out of the brim. “I’m your pimple daddy!” the red head called out in a loud voice, not noticing Harry and Hermione.
“It’s ‘Pimp Daddy,'” Hermione corrected before lunging at the mostly naked wizard while shouting, “I’ll kill you!”
Hermione and Ron crashed to the ground. Ron immediately began to thrash around in an attempt to get Hermione off, who was slapping him about the head and chest. The brunette witch was so enraged that she didn’t notice that Ron’s naked erection was brushing against the hem of her skirt.
Luna turned to Harry and looked at him with her big blue eyes before speaking in an easy but happy way; “It looks like Hermione has opted for group sex. That means we should go at it too, Harry. It’s only proper, don’t you agree? Obviously we should start with oral sex. Would you like me to lick your penis? Or would you prefer to go down on my muff?”
“What? No,” Harry blurted out. “This is serious!”
“So you want to bypass foreplay and jump straight into intercourse like Ronald and Hermione?” asked Luna sincerely. “I was hoping to sample some of your parsletongue magic. But if you insist; plunge your cock into my box.” She said this phrase without any passion; it was just a simple statement to her. The blonde witch sat on the bed and laid back, clearly waiting for Harry to mount her.
“No, no, this isn’t what you think,”Harry said and pulled Hermione off of Ron. He didn’t do this to save Ron from a thrashing, but to have Hermione protect him from Luna. Harry was deeply concerned that if he didn’t lie on top of Luna, the blonde witch would hop up and begin molesting him.
“Let me at him!” Hermione growled as Harry pulled her away from Ron. “I’ll kill him!”
“Wait, that wasn’t intercourse?”Luna asked, sitting up.
“What’s your problem?” Ron demanded as he stood. “Are you completely mental?”
“You’re dead!” Hermione growled, trying to tug herself free from Harry’s grasp.
“Why? What did I do?” Ron asked.
“Um, Ron, cover up,” requested Harry. The red haired wizard was still very ready for a proverbial “roll in the hay” with his wife, meaning that Ron was looking at Harry and Hermione with all three eyes. As stated before, erections are the type of things male friends shouldn’t share with each other.
Having clearly forgotten his state, Ron looked down and saw something looking back up at him. With a rapid and frantic motion, Ron swiped his large hat from his head and placed it over his groin. The wizard burned a fiery red in embarrassment.
In juxtaposition to her husband, Luna sat casually on the bed. The witch seemed completely natural having her enormous breasts exposed to the open air where everyone could see them.
“You’re dead!” Hermione snarled again.
“Why?” Ron repeated and took another step back.
“We found out, Ron,” Harry said, his voice tainted by the anger and disappointment that pierced his being.
“You’re dead!” Apparently Hermione was so angry that the knowledge of the English language she had retained had vanished save for those two words – well, three separate words if you count the contraction.
“What the hell did I do?” Ron asked frantically and took another step back away from his angry friends. He had put enough distance between himself and Harry and Hermione that Ron was now pressed up against the far wall.
This caused Luna, who was approximately halfway between the two groups, to pivot her body back and forth; turning her attention to whomever was speaking. Much like a spectator at a tennis match looking from one side to the other. Mind you, this caused her naked breasts to sway and swing similarly to two metronomes. A naked, big breasted metronome. Normally, if Ron had not been so concerned with his friends’ temper, he’d be transfixed with the swaying orbs. And Harry would probably do the same. Hell, so would Hermione.
“How many people have seen it?” Harry demanded.
“Seen what?” shot back Ron.
“Is that why everybody in the school keeps looking at me and Hermione so oddly?” Harry asked.
“What are you talking about?” the red head asked desperately.
“Have you lent it out to the whole fucking school?” Harry demanded.
“Mate, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ron defended.
During this interchange, Hermione had growled, barked, snarled, and shouted the words “You’re dead!” no less than six times. At one point, she had experimented and tried to kick at Ron despite the fact that he was a good four feet away from her.
“The Pensieve, Ron,” snapped Harry. “Everyone in the bloody school has seen the Pensieve Memory Hermione and I made for you.”
“What?” a shocked Ron asked.
“That’s not possible, Harry,” Luna said in a dreamy tone. In a cool and easy manner, Luna strolled to a bedside cabinet, pulled out her wand, incanted a ridiculously long incantation full with words that Harry swore weren’t words at all, and tapped her wand in several places all over the face of the cabinet, before opening it. The blonde reached in and pulled out a small box. She placed the box to her lips and whispered another incantation, this one much shorter, causing the box to pop open. Luna reached in and retrieved the glass vial that Harry had given them. “We keep it locked up,” she said simply.
“Bu- but Harry overheard some people talking about seeing it,” Hermione persisted, clearly confused.
“Are you sure you didn’t misunderstand them Harry?” Luna asked.
“No, they said our names,” he explained.
“Well, maybe you didn’t understand what they were talking about,” offered Ron. “Maybe they were talking about something else.”
“They were talking about how Hermione is a gusher,” added Harry.
Luna giggled and said, “More like ahosepipe. She’s like Cho doing ahandstand.”
“But how’d they see the Pensieve if you’ve kept it under lock?” Hermione moaned.
“Did you make more and lose one,”Ron suggested.
“How dumb do you think we are?”Hermione scoffed. “We’d never do such athing as make a spare and lose it.”
“Oh, so it had to be me,” Ron said with bitterness. “I’m a lummox and therefore had to betray my friends.”
“Ron that’s not-” began Harry.
“How could you two think I’d do that to you?” the red head asked, clearly hurt. “I learned my lesson back during the Tri Wizard. You two trusted me with that memory; I’d never let it out of my sight.”
With his shoulders slumped in dejection, Ron turned and sulked into the bathroom. As the door closed, Harry heard a muffled sob come from the bathroom.
“I think you two should leave,” Luna said, a small frown marring her face.
Hanging their heads, Harry and Hermione walked out of their friends’ room. They walked back to their chambers as each silently berated themselves for doubting Ron. Sure he wasn’t the brightest person in the world, and he was pigheaded and stubborn. But since his transgression at the beginning of their fourth year, where Ron assumed Harry had entered his name in the Goblet of Fire, Ron had been a loyal and true friend.
Harry felt even worse than Hermione. He was Ron’s best mate and shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions like that. Harry should’ve realized that Ron would never betray his trust again. Even if he and Ron were lost in the woods for weeks and weeks, wandering aimlessly without food, Ron wouldn’t betray his friends.
The next morning, after spending asilent night together, Hermione stated in a soft and mournful voice; “We have to make it up to him.”
“Yeah,” Harry agreed.
“But how?” she asked, admitting that she didn’t even have the slightest clue.
“That’s easy: food or sex. He’s a bloke; therefore, all he thinks about is sex. And he’s also Ron, which means his entire existence is centered on food,” offered Harry.
“Well, he’s got the sex covered with Luna,” Hermione said.
“So that leaves food,” concluded Harry. Taking Hermione’s hand in his, he guided her to the kitchens.
“Are we going to have the House Elves whip something up for him?” she asked.
“No, that’d be cheating,” he answered. “We were the ones who fouled up. We’re the ones who have to make reparation.”
“Do you know how to cook?”
“Kind of. I mean I know how to fry food,” he said with a shrug. “The Dursleys made me cook for them. But all they ever wanted was fried food. So I guess I can make him some fish and chips and loads of bacon. What about you?”
“I’ll bake a cake then,” Hermione said, her smile growing slightly less guilty.
“You can bake?”
“I haven’t before, but how difficult can it be. It’s just like Potion brewing: add ingredients, throw it in the oven, simple,” she said confidently.
The moment the two entered the castle’s kitchen, every single House Elf dropped what they were doing (which meant several dozen pots and pans crashed to the floor splashing their contents everywhere) and bowed to Hermione.
“Oh, Great One, what do you be needing?” one elf bounded up to Hermione and then proceeded to kiss her feet.
“We need to make some food for afriend of ours,” Harry answered for Hermione who couldn’t do so for herself because she was trying to explain to the little creature not to kiss her feet.
“What do’s you’swants us to be fixing for you’s friend?” another elf asked while trying to kiss the hem of Hermione’s robes.
“Actually, we decided that we’d be the ones cooking,” Harry said.
The collective gasp from the House Elves was almost enough to create a vacuum in the kitchen. Every single elf drew in a deep breath of shock at the same instant. So much air was inhaled that Harry felt his hair move.
No one spoke or even moved for six whole seconds. It was dead silent in the kitchen for that time. Then the wailing started. The screams and cries of the House Elves echoed off the walls of the kitchen. Several elves who were weeping hysterically were huddled in one corner; they were curled up into tight little balls, desperately clutching their knees to their chests. Another set of elves were placing their hands into the flames of the stoves; the smell of burning flesh quickly filled the air. And at least twenty were slamming their heads repeatedly against the walls. Harry felt it was safe to assume that the elves didn’t take too kindly to the idea of “The Great One” preparing food by herself.
“PLEASE STOP!” a very mortified Hermione cried out. And the elves did. In fact the elves stopped completely. Some were frozen in mid-sob, others had their heads pressed firmly against the walls, and a few had their hands still in the flames. “You there,” Hermione pointed to the ones who were cooking their limbs. “Pull your hands out. That’s it. Now put out the fires. That’s good.”
Hermione took a calming breath and said, “All I want to do is bake something for a friend of mine.”
And as if by some primal instinct, the elves began to abuse themselves once more.
“STOP IT!” she screamed again. Hermione looked to Harry with pleading eyes. Clearly she had just wanted to explain the situation to the elves, but she didn’t know how.
Harry thought for a moment, and then, somewhat hesitantly, he tried to explain what was going on in a way that the House Elves would understand.
“The Great One… ah… just wants to experience your suffering… by baking a cake.”
“No’s,” two dozen elves cried out.
“The Great One dobe better than that,” another shouted.
“But she wants to do this,” Harry pressed. “That way, the Great One will be even closer to you. She will, um, know your pain. The Great One will understand you all the more.”
The elves looked to each other. A moment later, a few of them nodded their heads, albeit reluctantly. Some of them still had tears flowing freely from their bulbous eyes.
Even though Harry and Hermione had convinced the elves that they would do this on their own, the elves still helped. Every time the couple needed an ingredient, at least four House Elves would dash to fetch the item.
Once, Harry had to pause in his frying to stop a House Elf who had not accepted the notion of The Great One baking. The little creature had gotten alength of rope and fashioned a noose. Harry tugged the elf off of a stack of chairs where he was trying to hang himself.
While they worked, Harry noticed that a number of the House Elves were staring at him and Hermione. Unlike the other House Elves who were watching how the couple was cooking intently, this group had their eyes fixed on Harry’s and Hermione’s crotches. These elves had an odd look in their eyes, sort of like a look of admiration mixed with longing.
“Looks like some others have seen our Pensieve,” Harry said and pointed at the odd group.
“Bloody hell,” Hermione cursed. “We should just start distributing them ourselves at this rate.”
“Hey, we could charge a viewing fee,”offered Harry lightly. “At least that way we could earn some money.”
“Or we could write a book,” Hermione said with a bemused smile. “You know, update our ‘special book.’ I’ve always wanted to write a book.”
“We’ll become filthy rich,” stated Harry. They both laughed at such aludicrous notion.
A few hours later, the couple was done with their tasks. Harry had several stacks of chips, fried fish, and rashers of bacon. Hermione proudly held up her single layer chocolate cake… which promptly started to make a hissing sound. A large chasm formed on top of the cake and black smoke billowed out of the gash. Like a deflating tire, the cake slowly and noisily collapsed in on itself.
With Hermione’s right eye twitching in annoyance, Harry whispered in her ear “I guess baking isn’t as simple as potion brewing.”
“I-I can’t give this to him,” she moaned.
“You could have the House Elves make something for you and just tell Ron you made it,” offered Harry. “I know I said it was cheating, but at least we gave it a try.”
“I couldn’t do that,” she said firmly. “It would be wrong. I’ll just give it another attempt and bake asecond cake. It can’t be that hard to make a cake.”
As Hermione stirred and blended the proper ingredients once more, she openly bragged about how she had learned from her previous mistakes. She smiled broadly, confident that this time her creation would be perfect. The witch’s smile only faltered slightly when the cake hissed and split open once again, coughing black smoke into the air.
“You could have the House Elves make a cake for you and just tell Ron you made it,” repeated Harry.
All it took was a simple resigned nod from Hermione and the elves were off like a shot. Dozens of the little creatures began bolting back and forth from the cupboards to the stove. Within minutes of starting, the elves began to form a multilayer cake. In no time, they had completed nothing short of a confectionary masterpiece. It stood six feet tall, and nearly eight wide at the base. Each layer had a different frosting; chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, almond, and so on. On the second layer, dozens of small chocolate figurines of wizards and witches chased each other around the edge of the cake. A hundred sparklers stuck out in every direction on the top two layers.
“Wow,” Hermione said in awe. “Do you think Ron will believe I made this?”
“I don’t think he’ll care, really,”answered Harry. Knowing Ron, his red haired friend would probably go into sugar-shock just at the sight of the monumental cake.
“How do you think we’ll get it to him?” Harry asked.
“We’s can be delivering it anywhere’s The Great One wants,” one House Elf said joyously.
“That would be wonderful,” Hermione said sincerely. “Could you take this and the food Harry made to our friends, Ron and Luna, in about fifteen minutes?”
“We betaking the foods to Weezy and Weezy’sbig boobied missus in a few,” another elf confirmed.
Harry and Hermione made their way back to Ron and Luna’s room. As they walked, Hermione asked; “It’s only been a day, do you think Ron’s upset?”
“It’s not like Ron to hold grudges,”Harry replied.
“Are you delusional? Of course it’s like Ron to hold grudges,”Hermione countered hotly. “He’s petty and jealous to a fault. Don’t forget the Goblet of Fire fiasco; he didn’t talk to you for weeks. Which shows you how pig-headed he can get; you two shared all the same classes and slept in the same room and yet he didn’t talk to you.”
Thinking back to his earlier analogy about being lost in the woods with no food, Harry realized that it was quite possible for Ron to abandon him.
“I tell you he’s lucky to have such a forgiving friend like you,” Hermione continued.
“Well, I think the food will placate him a bit,” Harry said wondering what he’d do if the “Lost in a Forest and Ron Abandons Me” scenario ever came to be. More likely than not, Harry would forgive Ron, pretty much for the reasons Hermione had said; it was his nature. Then Harry came to realize how lucky Ron was to have him as a friend. No one else would put up with Ron’s flaws like he did.
When they got to the door, Harry knocked. Luna answered. Her ever-present smile had returned.
“Hello, Harry and Hermione, so nice of you to stop by. I told Ronald that I knew you would, but it’s still nice of you to do so. Otherwise, I’d look like a liar to my husband,” she greeted the couple easily as if she had not just asked them to leave the night before. “Won’t you come in?”
Harry and Hermione walked into the room like a pair of accused criminals waiting to be judged.
“I’ve been talking to Ronald,” Luna stated with her odd happy tone. “I explained to him why you thought he had lost the Pensieve Memory. There was a touch of logic to your accusations; you made only the one memory, and Ronald does have a tendency to foul things up. He’s still upset, but at least he understands.”
“We’d like to apologize,” offered Hermione.
“You do realize my Ronald can be abit pig-headed, don’t you?” Luna asked dreamily. “It’s one of his more enduring attributes, along with his insatiable virility. Even though he understands why you accused him, he is still upset, like I said. Unfortunately you’re going to have to do more than just tell him you’re sorry.”
“We’ve got that covered,” said Harry.
“Good,” smiled Luna. “I do wish that Ronald would become a little more forgiving like you, Harry. Then, Ronald would be utterly perfect in every way. But then again, I find perfection rather dull, so maybe I shouldn’t wish for such a thing.”
The blonde witch turned and called out to the door leading to the bathroom. “Ronald, those guests I told you to expect are here now.”
“Tell them to go away,” he said loudly from behind the door. “I’m not ready to forgive them just yet.”
Luna turned to Harry and Hermione and explained, “I told you he’s stubborn.” She turned back to the door and said in a loud voice, “Ronald, we discussed this earlier. We are both becoming adults and therefore we must mature. Allowing your friends to apologize and then forgiving them is the mature thing to do, Ronald.”
“I don’t wanna,”the red head said petulantly.
“Ronald, I won’t swallow next time Igive you oral sex like I promised if you don’t come out here right this instant,” Luna said firmly.
The door opened and slowly, Ron stepped out of the bathroom. He stood close to the door and folded his arms in front of his chest defensively.
“Look, Ron, we’re sorry,” Harry said sincerely.
“Yes, it was wrong of us to accuse and attack you,” added Hermione. Harry wanted to point out that she alone attacked Ron and he had nothing to do with the assault. He had relatively kept his cool whereas Hermione was the one trying to draw blood, but now was not the time or place. Later, he’d hold this little tidbit over his lover’s head and perhaps get an apologetic blow job out of it.
All throughout Harry’s and Hermione’s apology, Ron’s face was a stone mask of disappointment. Harry got the distinct impression that Ron had been practicing this expression in front of the mirror for some time.
“We should’ve trusted you, mate,”Harry offered.
Despite their sincere apology, Ron’s face remained unchanged. It was clear that he had no intention of making this easy for Harry and Hermione.
With a loud pop, piles of fried bacon, chips and battered cod materialized before the red haired wizard. Instantaneously, a smile cracked Ron’s expression at the sight of the piles of fried food. His stern demeanor vanished completely, replaced by that of total joy, when the monumental cake popped into existence.
Harry watched in stunned amazement as Ron dove at the piles of food. The red head scooped up handfuls of fried fish with one hand while the other shoveled cake before shoving the food into his mouth. He turned to Harry and Hermione, and with bits of fried fish and chocolate cake tumbling out of his opening and closing maw, uttered; “Murf tea gukz!”
“He said ‘thank you,'” translated Luna happily. “And he accepts your apology.”
Happy that Ron was pleased while being simultaneously disgusted by the red head’s eating habits, Harry and Hermione left the room silently.
“I’m glad he’s not upset anymore,”Hermione said with a smile as she and Harry made their way back to their room.
“Yeah,” agreed Harry. Abruptly changing the subject to less Ron-filled issues, Harry broached a suggestion that Hermione had given the night before. “So, you’re curious about anal sex, huh?”
Looking at him wryly, Hermione teased “Oh, so you did hear me say that last night. I thought you were in too much shock to have comprehended.”
“Of course I did,” he returned as the couple turned another corner. “When a bloke’s witch says she wants to experiment, he listens. Even if I was under the effects of the Draught of the Living Death, I would’ve heard you.”
Hermione snorted a soft chuckle. “We will have to take it slow. You can’t just go barging in.”
“I didn’t take it slow last night and you seemed to like it,” he pointed out.
“That wasn’t the real thing, now was it?” the brunette countered. “It was just the sensation of it. We have to work up to the real act.”
“Gotcha,” he whispered. “Go slow.”
The young wizard was doing aterrible job of concealing his excitement. Any new way to pleasure his lover was a welcomed adventure. But skipping down the hall is not a proper thing for a seventeen year old wizard to do.
“Oi, you two,” the ever-gruff voice of Argus Filch, the school’s caretaker called out to Harry and Hermione. “The Headmistress wants to see you.”
“Do you know what for?” asked Hermione politely.
“I don’t know that, do I?” the bitter old man shot back. “If I did, Iwould’ve said the Headmistress wants to talk to you about the weather. But I didn’t, so you should’ve known I know nothing.”
The grumpy old man hobbled away grumbling, “Snot nosed kids always asking stupid questions. If it were up to me I’d have them all whipped.”
“Let’s get this over with,” Harry said disgustedly. He and Hermione were about to be intimate in a new way and this meeting with McGonagall was delaying it. The two made their way to the Headmistress’ office while Harry muttered on and on about “lousy effing timing.”
“Good evening, Professor,” Hermione politely greeted the older witch after walking into her office.
“Hi,” was all that Harry was able to say. He dared not attempt anything further because something along the lines of “MAKE THIS QUICK, DAMN IT! THERE’S SEX TO BE HAD!” might slip out.
“Thank you for coming,” McGonagall returned. There was a serious edge to her voice… well, more serious than the normal serious edge to her voice. “Please sit down.”
“What’s the matter, Professor?”Hermione asked picking up on the Headmistress’ more serious tone.
“Minister Pippin called today and informed me that a student is going to return to Hogwarts,” McGonagall said cryptically.
“You’re kidding, right?” Harry half pleaded.
“Who’s returning?” asked Hermione.
“If it was any other student returning, Professor McGonagall wouldn’t have called us up here,” Harry explained. “It’s Malfoy.”
“You’re kidding, right?” echoed Hermione.
“The Minister was quite insistent,”McGonagall said with a hint of a frown. “Mr. Malfoy is still under protective custody and the Ministry has decided that Hogwarts is the safest place for him. And that it would behoove him to continue his education at the same time.”
“Professor, I don’t have to remind you that Malfoy led a group of murderers into the castle last year, and because of his actions, Dumbledore was killed,” argued Harry.
Before McGonagall could reply, the magical portrait of Professor Dumbledore spoke up; “Everyone deserves a second chance, Harry.”
“Oh, I can see it now, sir: our kids will go to Hogwarts together and be best of friends,” Harry said bitterly. “Malfoy’s nothing more than a slimy bigot. He cheered when Slytherin’s Monster was petrifying Muggle-borns in our second year. In our fourth, he crowed over Cedric’s murder. And when Umbrigde was Headmistress, he abused and tormented his fellow students. Hell, he was happy over the notion of watching the toad woman torture me. Then, last year, he opened a doorway that allows a bunch of Death Eaters into the castle, several people are attacked and you got murdered.”
“Ah, but didn’t Mr. Malfoy redeem himself when he turned in several Death Eaters a few months back?” the painting asked insightfully.
“One right doesn’t necessarily correct a wrong, sir,” Hermione offered. “Especially when the wrongs outweigh the right.”
“The Minister told me that Draco was a changed man,” McGonagall stated. “And she reiterated ‘in several ways’ for some reason. They tell me that his nastier charms have all but vanished and now he’s a law abiding wizard.”
“Professor, you can’t let-” began Harry.
“I plan on speaking with Mr. Malfoy and his mother before I even consider letting him return,” McGonagall interrupted the young wizard. “After Ispeak with them, I will discus the matter further with you two as well as the staff. I called you here today to inform you of this.”
After a moment where Harry grumbled and glowered at no one in particular, Hermione took his hand and said; “Thank you Headmistress. We appreciate that you’ve included us in this decision.”
Harry muttered a goodbye and let his girlfriend lead him out of the office.
As they walked back to their room, Harry continued to grumble angrily.
“Bloody Malfoy. Should be chucked in Azkaban, not let back into Hogwarts.”
For nearly fifteen minutes, this was all that Harry did. His face had turned such a fiery red, that Hermione had grown concerned. Obviously, the brunette witch came to the conclusion that she needed to get Harry’s mind off of the upsetting subject.
“Harry, do you remember what we were discussing before we went to the Headmistress’ office?” she asked.
“No,” he mumbled. “Damn Malfoy.”
“We were talking about anal sex.”
It was like a bolt of lightning had come from the heavens and struck Harry, completely burned his worries concerning Draco Malfoy away. He snatched Hermione’s hand and announced “Let’s go!” before running down the hall.
The couple rounded a corner and slowed as they passed a group of sixth year boys. The younger students were involved in their conversation. Harry and Hermione slowed their pace because neither of them wanted to draw attention to themselves by bolting past.
As Harry and Hermione moved by, some of the group’s conversation was overheard.
“She swallows?” one whispered in near awe.
“Yeah, I guess that’s why they call her ‘Head Girl.'” another said with mirth.
“Did you see the one where she dressed up like a Muggle school girl?” another asked. “Pig-tails an’ all.”
“Isn’t that the one where he cums on her titties at the end?”
Hermione looked as if she was about to vomit. She had turned as white as asheet and her eyes were wide with fear and shock. Worried that she was about to collapse, Harry wound his arm around her midsection and supported her. As quickly and as quietly as he could, Harry half-carried half-led Hermione away from the group.
“They’ve seen more?” she breathed out once they were far enough away. “More than just the one Ron and Luna had?”
“Oh, that’s why one of the kids Ioverheard last night said Pensieves and not Pensieve,” pondered Harry. “They were talking about more than one.”
“How the hell can there be more than one?” demanded Hermione frantically.
Harry opened the door to their chamber and said the only thing that made sense. “Somebody must be spying on us and they’re handing out Pensieve Memories for some reason.”
With her hands trembling, Hermione gripped the front of Harry’s robes and began to cry. “Someone’s watching us? And they’re handing out Pensieves of it? Oh, that’s horrible.”
Harry held her close, trying, in vain, to comfort her. It was a dreadful situation; apparently, a number of the times they had been intimate together have now been seen by a large number of the student body. Harry himself was concerned over the situation, but not nearly at Hermione’s level. The poor witch looked as if she was about to have a nervous breakdown.
“We can’t have sex until we find out who’s doing this,” Hermione announced between hiccups. “None at all.”
Now Harry’s level of concern exceeded Hermione’s. The brunette witch had just been eager to be buggered. But now because of this revelation, she was abstaining from any sex… including anal! This damn pervert was halting Harry’s love life. And Harry swore to himself that he’d make the pervert suffer!
Pulling away from Hermione, Harry moved to his trunk.
“What are you doing, Harry?” asked Hermione as he rifled through the contents of his trunk.
“Finding myself a pervert,” he answered and pulled up the Marauders’ Map. He tapped his wand to the old parchment and incanted, “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”
He turned to Hermione and said “You’d better stay here,” before walking out of the room. Quickly he scanned the map until he found his target.
The dot labeled “Dennis Creevey”showed that the younger boy was in his dorm room in the Gryffindor Tower. The dot was also hovering over a dot labeled Padma Patil. Harry dashed to the tower with every intention of questioning the younger wizard as to where he had gotten the Pensieve from. When he reached the Fat Lady, he quickly checked the Marauders’ Map to find the password, which he gave and ran up the stairs, pushing pass the students in the Common Room.
The door to Dennis’ dorm had a neck tie hanging from the doorknob which is the universal sign for “Two people having sex inside. Piss off!” That, or if the wizard didn’t have a witch, it meant “Some bloke is masturbating in here. You don’t want to see that, so move along.” Harry was about to ignore the “neck-tie warning” and barge in when a pair of third year boys stumbled out of the dorm opposite Dennis’ door.
“Damn it, it’s just our luck,” a sandy haired boy complained, not noticing Harry. “Effingpest – taking our turn.”
“Yeah, we finally get a chance to see Granger and Pot… err, shit” it was at this point the other boy noticed Harry. “Hi, Harry,” he squeaked nervously.
“Oh, bollocks,” the first cursed. It was clear that the boys thought Harry was about to hex the both of them.
Harry pushed passed the boys and made his way to the third years’ room. Obviously, the boys were talking about watching one of those damned Pensieve Memories. The raven haired wizard realized that he didn’t need to ask Dennis where he had gotten the Pensieve from, not when Harry could enter the magical memory and find out himself. As he opened the door to the disgruntled boys’ room, Harry mentally reviewed his impromptu plan; he would push whoever was watching the Pensieve out of his way, then enter the magical memory and explore it. Harry figured he’d have no problem viewing a memory; he already had loads of experience with both Dumbledore’s and Snape’s Pensieves.
But Harry forgot all about his plan the moment he saw the person leaning over the Pensievebasin.
“My, she’s a flexible minx,” the figure commented, the voice dripping with lust. “That’s my boy, Harry; give her arse a good swat.”
“I should’ve known,” Harry growled. The pervert, the unseen letch who had spied on Harry and Hermione, was standing right in front of Harry with his nose in the Pensieve, watching it.
With righteous fury flowing through his veins, Harry whipped out his wand and sent a Blasting Hex at the stone basin. The bowl shattered into a million pieces causing the silvery liquid of the Pensieve Memory to be splattered on the wall.
As the figure stood and faced Harry, the bespectacled wizard threatened, “You’re lucky I can’t perform the Cruciatus Curse properly or else you’d be screaming in pain right about now, Gryffindor!”

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Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor
Chapter Twenty-Five: Dim-witted Theories and Troubles Abound
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 Twenty-Five: The Talk of the Castle.
The next night, Harry and Hermione were alone in their Head Students’ quarters, reading quietly. Harry was going over his notes for Transfiguration, while Hermione read from their ‘special book.’ Every once in a while, the brunette witch had to readjust the squashy pillow she was using as a seat cushion. Despite a heaping dosage of Bruise Be Gone ointment and ample massaging from Harry, her bottom was still quite red and sore from the previous night’s spankings. Harry would’ve felt bad over Hermione’s discomfort, if the witch didn’t have a persistent satisfied grin etched on her face. She definitely was one kinky woman.
A soft knocking drew the teens’ attention to the door. Harry set his notes aside and went to see who was calling. The wizard was surprised to see Ginny, who had obviously been crying quite a bit judging by her red and puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks, standing in the hallway.
“Am I… am I interrupting?” she asked meekly and sniffled.
Genuinely concerned over Ginny’s condition, Harry ushered her in.
“Ginny, are you alright?” Hermione asked from the couch.
“No,” the red head sniffled again.
Hermione patted a spot close to her on the couch, indicating that Ginny should sit next to her. But instead of sitting, Ginny dove and threw her arms around Hermione’s neck. The younger witch openly sobbed into Hermione’s shoulder.
“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” cooed Hermione and she began rubbing the red head’s back. Harry joined the witches on the couch and placed a comforting hand on Ginny’s shoulder.
After a few minutes, Ginny calmed. Hiccupping, the red head pulled away from Hermione and leaned against the back of the couch.
“I’m in so much trouble,” the young witch bemoaned.
“Why? What happened, Ginny?” asked Harry. The red head’s lip quivered pathetically and Harry reassured “You can tell us, we’re your friends.”
“And Harry’s practically a brother, to boot,” Hermione said while looking directly at Harry, her eyes sparkling mischievously. Harry rolled his eyes; he couldn’t believe that his lover was asking for another paddling.
“I’m pregnant,” Ginny cried as her tears splashed down her face.
“Oh, Ginny,” Hermione said mournfully, her mischievous sparkle disappearing instantly.
Harry just put his arm around Ginny’s shoulders. He wanted to say something comforting, but the only thing he could think of to say was “I’ll miss you after your mum murders you,” but that was tactless so he kept quiet.
“Didn’t you use protection?” asked Hermione.
“Yes, all the time. I’ve always used the Inaedifico Charm,” Ginny said between sobs.
“What’s the Inaedifico Charm?” Harry asked Hermione over Ginny’s head.
“It’s a semen repellant,” the brunette explained. “It’s a spell that creates a barrier. Basically a witch uses the charm to keep any semen from reaching the cervix and therefore the womb. It’s very effective and simple to do. And it lasts three weeks with each casting. That’s why I use it.
“Are you sure you didn’t forget to recast it?” Hermione asked the crying witch.
“No, to be safe I recast it every two weeks,” she answered. “It’s Neville, he’s too big.”
“Honey, the size of Neville’s penis doesn’t mean he’s extra fertile,” Hermione said. “Besides, it doesn’t matter how fertile the wizard is, the Inaedifico Charm would work. It’s a very reliable contraceptive.”
“I know that. I’m talking about Neville’s length,” Ginny said, wiping away the tears from her eyes. “He’s so big, he bypasses the charm. The head of his willy actually pushes through my cervix. When we have sex, he cums right in my womb.”
“Pushes through your cervix?” Hermione echoed; her face a mixture of surprise and anguish. “Ow.”
“Oh, you get used to it after four or five times,” dismissed Ginny.
“Ow,” repeated Hermione. She had her hands clutched on the lower part of her belly in phantom pain. “Ow.”
“I need help,” implored Ginny. “What am I supposed to do? I’m scared.”
“Does Neville know?” asked Harry.
“No,” the red head said.
“And your parents don’t know?” Hermione asked.
“Of course not,” Ginny replied. “Do you think I’m mad? What should I do?”
“Well, Neville needs to know,” stated Harry. He imagined that if he were in Neville’s shoes, he’d want to know.
“And your parents should be told as well” added Hermione.
“You’re mad!” Ginny said, staring with terror filled eyes at Hermione. “Sure, I’ll tell Nev. But my parents? You’re barmy to think I’m going to tell my folks.”
“Ginny, they’re going to find out sooner or later,” Hermione explained. “I think it’ll be for the best if it’s sooner rather than later.”
Ginny turned the wizard and with a pleading expression, she begged “Harry, you’ll tell them for me, won’t you?”
“You think I’m suicidal or something?” he asked. “Because the moment I say the words ‘Ginny’s pregnant’ they’ll kill me.”
“But you’re not the father, they won’t get mad at you,” the red head pointed out.
“Won’t matter,” argued Harry. “All they’ll see is a bloke saying something about their princess being knocked up and they’ll kill me. I imagine it’s like an automatic response for parents.”
“But they love you,” Ginny urged.
“No, I’m with Harry on this. Either you by yourself or with Neville should tell your parents,” Hermione stated. She then added under her breath, “Cervix – ow!’
“Oh, God,” Ginny cried into her hands. “I’m dead! I’m dead! I’m dead!”
“Don’t be so melodramatic, Gin-Gin,” Harry said in a calm and soothing voice. “Sure your folks’ll be mad, at first. But you’re their little girl and they love you. Hell, it’s obvious they love babies too, otherwise they wouldn’t have had so many.” With this point, Ginny’s head snapped up and she looked at Harry as if he was brilliant. Encouraged by Ginny’s expression, Harry forged ahead. “I’m sure that once the baby is born, your mum and dad will forget all about this. They’d probably love the idea about being grandparents once they hold the little tyke for the first time.”
“You’re right Harry,” Ginny cheered with a genuine smile. “I’ll hide my pregnancy! And after I give birth, I’ll surprise Mum and Dad with the baby!”
“That’s not what I said,” Harry shot back.
“It won’t work,” added Hermione.
“Yes it will!” Ginny said gleefully. “I’ll just use some glamour charms to hide any bumps or whatnot and my parents will be none the wiser.”
“Ginny, please stop and think about this,” prayed Hermione.
“It’s brilliant,” Ginny said with sparkling eyes and a dazzling smile. “And once the baby is born, I’ll show it to Mum and Dad and they’ll love it just like you said, Harry!”
The red head bounced up from the couch and twirled happily as Harry tried to defend himself. “But I didn’t…”
“Thanks Harry, you’re a lifesaver!” Ginny congratulated before prancing out of the Head Boy and Girl’s chamber.
“Oh, this will not end well,” Hermione breathed out.
“Somehow, I think this will come back and bite me on the arse,” Harry pondered.
*
The next day at lunch, Harry, Hermione, and Ron leaned in close to Luna, as she was telling the trio the latest odd happening in the castle:
“Dennis Creevey is with Padma Patil?” Harry asked disbelievingly. “I thought he was gay.”
“No, his brother is the one who’s gay,” corrected Luna. “Dennis was just helping Colin hook up with you, which is a very lovely thing to do for one’s own sibling.”
“How did a bloke like Dennis get together with Padma?” inquired Ron as he wolfed down another helping of shepherd’s pie. “I mean he’s three years younger than her. And she’s hot while he’s goofy looking.”
“I saw it with my own two eyes,” Luna said conversationally. “They were both getting dress as they stumbled out into the hallway. They saw me, giggled and kissed rather passionately before going their separate ways.”
“Maybe it was something else,” Hermione offered. She too had trouble wrapping her mind around the concept of Dennis and Padma together. “Maybe she was giving him a tutoring session and the kiss was innocent.”
“Possible, but I doubt it. It was a tongue kiss, after all. Pink organs fighting for dominance in one another’s mouth, and all that,” explained Luna. “And when I said that they were getting dressed, I meant that Padma’s left breast was exposed. She has lovely skin by the way; blemish-free and very soft looking. And as they parted, Padma gave Dennis’ groin a good squeeze. He still had an erection; I could see the outline of his crown and shaft pressing against the fabric of his trousers. Oh, he also smelled like sex when he passed me. But maybe you’re right and it was innocent.”
“Maybe it was a very good tutoring session,” Harry feebly defended Hermione’s speculation.
“Oh, and speaking about sex, Ronald and I finally broke our dry spell,” Luna said happily.
“You had a dry spell?” Harry asked… and instantly regretted it. The blonde witch had a tendency to be a little too open about such topics.
“Yes, ever since Snape’s admission of masturbating constantly,” Luna paused and shivered in disgust. “Please don’t misunderstand; I happen to think masturbation is a lovely act. Just last week, I watched Ronald pleasure himself for me.”
“Luna, they don’t need to know,” Ron said in embarrassment.
“It was a beautiful and loving moment,” Luna continued despite Ron’s objections. “But Snape is nothing more than a disgusting and foul man. The mere idea of him having sex, even a solo act, is just as disgusting as the greasy git himself. That excuse for a man defiled a beautiful deed for me with his hateful tale.”
Harry did his best to try and block any unwanted images of Snape out of his mind.
“So for the past few days I haven’t been able to even think about sex,” Luna said. “Every time I tried to be intimate with my husband, I could only see an image of that foul man with his penis in his hand. Drooling while abusing himself like some deranged madman.”
Harry eyed the fork in his hand and pondered over the notion of jabbing the utensil into his eye and shoving it into his brain. He was beginning to warm up to the idea that he could use the fork to lobotomize himself in order to remove the image that Luna had just created.
“But last night, I was finally able to overcome the horror that Snape had created, and my Ronald and I made love,” Luna beamed at her husband. “First he took me on the couch, then the bed, and a desk. And then I was able to fulfill Ronald’s heartfelt wishes.”
The blonde witch held up her fore and middle fingers and wriggled them proudly.
“Oh, look at the time, class is starting,” Hermione said and shot up, clearly disturbed by what Luna was describing. She grabbed Harry, who was beyond shocked at Luna’s gesture, by the hand and dragged him out of the seat.
“Lessons don’t start for another quarter hour, Hermione,” said Luna while still wriggling her fingers like two burrowing worms. At this moment, Ron had his face hidden behind his hands, deeply embarrassed. Harry meanwhile was still clutching the fork and seriously debating the lobotomy option.
“Well, then we… uh…it’s Head Boy and Girl stuff,” Hermione said nervously. “Harry and I have to do… things,” she finished lamely and dashed out of the Great Hall with Harry in tow.
*
By dinner that evening, the news of Dennis’ and Padma’s relationship had spread like wildfire. Not that Harry, Hermione, Ron, or Luna had talked about it, which they didn’t. It was the fact that Dennis had gone down on Padma after lessons were done for the day. Of course what made it widely known was that the two did this by the lake where they had attracted a good sized crowd that allegedly cheered the couple on.
Now that their relationship wasn’t a secret (nor had they apparently wanted it to remain a secret seeing the public sex and all), Padma and Dennis sat next to each other, feeding each other bits of food as they looked longingly into their partner’s eyes.
Then, something occurred to Harry, as he looked over the students gathered in the Great Hall. He noticed that a number of the student body were paired up, much more so than usual. Dean Thomas was with Mandy Brocklehurst. Tracy Davis was in Terry Boot’s lap. Megan Jones was kissing Theodore Nott. And dozens of other couples were scattered through the Hall.
Harry eyed his pumpkin juice. Had someone spiked it with a love potion or something? He was suddenly scared; Harry had stopped checking his own meals once the more aggressive House Elf sect had stopped punishing him with platefuls of steaming excrement for his sin of “deflowering the Great One.” However given the widespread impact, a love potion was the only feasible reason he could come up with to explain this current “love fest” that was gripping Hogwarts.
“Hey guys,” Ginny said as she walked into the Great Hall. She was supporting Neville who had just looked like he had thrown up several times. He was deathly pale and his eyes where wide and blank.
“What’s with Neville?” Ron asked.
“Oh, nothing,” Ginny said with a nervous dismissal. The red head witch looked at Harry and Hermione and slipped them a note. “C’mon sweetie, lets get you some food,” Ginny said to Neville and led him down to an empty spot.
Harry unfolded the note and held it so that only he and Hermione could read it. It read:
“I just told him. I think he’s taking it rather well.”
Harry looked down the table at Neville. The wizard looked close to fainting. If Ginny considered that “taking it rather well’ he wondered what Ginny considered taking it poorly.
“I still think Expelliarmus can defeat You Know Who,” Ron offered suddenly, pulling Harry away from his thoughts regarding love potions and accidental pregnancies (which, between Ginny and Tonks, had been happening quite a bit lately).
“Not again, Ron,” moaned Hermione.
“No, no, hear me out,” persisted Ron. “I’m not talking about a normal Expelliarmus, but one cast from a super wand.”
Harry looked to his girlfriend and asked, “Is there such a thing as a super wand?”
She shrugged and answered, “We just turned a bit of string into a pterodactyl in our last class, so I guess anything is possible.”
“Yes, they are true. I’ve heard that Dumbledore had one,” Ron stated. “How else do you think he was able to do such wonderful stuff? Because he had a super wand, that’s how!”
“Actually, I think he could do those things because he was talented and studied hard,” Hermione challenged.
Harry saw Ron lean forward with his face beginning to turn an angry red and Hermione was copying his actions. The two were evidently ready for yet another heated argument.
“Okay, let’s just say Dumbledore had a super wand,” Harry speculated, trying to stem the fight that was about to ensue between Ron and Hermione. “How did he get it?”
“Easy; when he beat Grindelwald,” Ron answered in a haughty tone, as if he was proud that he knew something Hermione didn’t. “Grindelwald’s wand was called the Senior Wand, or something like that, and when Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald back in ‘45, the wand was passed to Dumbledore.”
“Um that really doesn’t make sense, Ron,” Harry said in as kind of way as possible as to not anger his excitable friend. “Back in fifth year, when we took our OWLs, we met someone who tested Dumbledore in his NEWTs when the Headmaster was a student. He said that Dumbledore was able to do wondrous things that he had ever seen. And that would have been decades before he defeated Grindelwald. Which means that Hermione was right, Dumbledore didn’t have a super wand, he was just skilled and talented.”
“Yeah, he may have wowed that bloke, but I heard Dumbledore got a super wand off of Grindelwald and that’s why he was so powerful,” Ron insisted. Knowing that Ron would not stop until he was finished, even if his reasoning and logic were flawed, Harry let his friend continue.
“I also heard that when you defeat someone and disarm them that they can no longer use their own wand because it belongs to you now,” Ron continued with his wild theory. Harry could feel Hermione about to protest, but he squeezed her hand, urging her to let Ron say his peace. “And that’s what happened with the Senior Wand; Dumbledore was able to beat Grindelwald thereby rendering the super wand useless to Grindelwald and making it his own.”
“So what you’re saying is that I should dig up Dumbledore and snatch his wand, this Senior Wand?” Harry asked tentatively.
“Yes, but first you’d have to duel and defeat Draco,” Ron clarified… if one could call it clarification.
“Why Draco?” asked Harry. And trying his best to lower himself to Ron’s argument, the raven haired wizard countered, “Why not Snape? He was the one who killed Dumbledore.”
“You see, that’s where you misunderstand the logic of it all,” Ron said with a superior grin. Harry had to bite his tongue and not say something about howler monkeys and logic. “Snape killed Dumbledore in order to save Draco from becoming a murderer. Therefore, Draco was the one who defeated Dumbledore, not Snape.”
Harry felt the tinge of an approaching migraine forming in his frontal lobe. He heard Hermione begin to mutter a question, but the brunette was so confused by Ron’s train of thought that all she was able to enunciate was “Wha?”
“So, let’s just march over to Malfoy, whoop his arse, then fetch the Senior Wand and you’ll be unstoppable Harry,” Ron concluded, seeming as if he was congratulating himself for a splendid argument.
“Ron, your theory is flawed in one area,” began Hermione, recovering from her befuddlement.
“And what area is that?” the red head asked confident that he could challenge Hermione.
“It’s stupid,” she concluded.
“What do you mean it’s stupid?” Ron demanded with annoyance.
“If a person’s wand is rendered useless when he is defeated, how was Snape able to kill Dumbledore? You, Harry, and I beat Snape in our third year; we knocked him out and disarmed him. So by your logic, his wand has been useless to him since then,” explained Hermione. “Therefore Snape couldn’t have used his wand to kill Dumbledore because he wouldn’t have been able to use it seeing that it is ours by right of conquest.”
“Also, your theory about the secession of the Senior Wand doesn’t work either,” Harry added in a compassionate way.
“How is that?” Ron asked with a frown.
“Well, you say that Draco is the current possessor of the Senior Wand because Snape killed Dumbledore in order to save the wanker,” Harry summarized. “But Snape was acting on Dumbledore’s direct orders; not only to save Malfoy from becoming a murderer but to end his own suffering. And since Snape was acting on Dumbledore’s orders, the greasy git was, in effect, Dumbledore’s tool. The idea of succession through defeat can’t apply here. Dumbledore was basically committing suicide, using the situation to try to redeem Malfoy for some reason and end his own suffering. Therefore he basically defeated himself. Not Snape and definitely not Malfoy.”
Luna placed a comforting hand on Ron’s shoulder and said soothingly, “Ronald, my love, next time you have one of these ideas, run it by me first so that you don’t sound like a fool, okay?”
Just as Ron nodded his head in compliance, another group of people walked up to Harry. This time it was Seamus Finnegan and he had one arm draped over Lavender Brown and the other around Parvati Patil. All three looked extremely pleased and each had a glistening sheen to their skin.
“Tanks, Har-ee, ‘or tha bes’,” Seamus slurred. He sounded as if his tongue had gone numb and was having difficulty speaking clearly. Despite this handicap, Seamus was grinning wildly. “Ree-min’ ‘e ta by ‘ou ah pressen’.”
With that, Lavender and Parvati giggled like school-girls – which, technically, they were – and dragged Seamus out of the Great Hall. Before they got too far, Harry heard the two witches interact:
“I get the top, you get the bottom.”
“But you got the top first last time. I want to go first.”
Hermione picked up her goblet and eyed the liquid contents “Did someone spike the pumpkin juice?” she asked, mirroring Harry’s earlier thought.
*
That night, in the safety of their chamber, where none of the weird activity of their peers could interrupt them, Harry and Hermione were again reading. Harry read a book on Quidditch while Hermione continued to read the Tantric rituals book. The bespectacled wizard liked it when Hermione read the ‘special book,’ as it usually meant they were going to try something exciting.
“This is a very interesting ritual,” Hermione commented as she read over a small section in Harry’s ‘special book.’
“What does it do?” the raven haired wizards asked, not looking up from his homework. He was trying not to lose his cool over the idea that Hermione had just found an interesting segment. What he wanted to do was shout “Let’s perform the ritual!” not really caring what it did, but that would make him look desperate. And a touch sad.
“It’s called the ‘Morgy Ritual.’ It can cause pain through magical connections, such as the Dark Mark,” Hermione summarized. “All we have to do is draw this channeling symbol, and then either write down the name of the magical connection, or draw a symbol of that connection, and then have sex.”
“So basically we’d draw the Dark Mark, indicating our targets are Death Eaters, and then have sex,” Harry recapped.
“Yes,” Hermione agreed. She continued to explain the ritual; “If we perform the ritual with ‘mild intensity’ it will cause the targets to feel a slight pain, something like a bad itch. But a heightened intensity will cause the targets incredible pain; akin to the sensation of being on fire.”
“So a tussle in the sack will make everyone baring the Dark Mark feel pain?” asked Harry.
“Yes.”
“And the more intense the sex, the more pain the Death Eaters will feel?”
“Um,” she paused and quickly rechecked the text. “Yes.”
“Well then, Miss Granger, prepare for several screaming orgasms,” Harry said and tugged his robes off in a manly fashion. In the process, the wizard managed to tear the clasp off of his robes. He would have to use a Stitching Charm to reattach it later. But at least the action looked manly.
A rosy bloom graced the witch’s cheeks in anticipation. Deftly, Hermione flicked the clasp on her robes open. Unlike Harry, she didn’t tear anything, meaning she wouldn’t have to waste her time sewing things like he would.
“Just how many screaming orgasms?” she asked while slowly unbuttoning her blouse.
“As many as it takes,” he replied and lowered his trousers. “This is for justice after all. Dealing out punishment to the wicked and whatnot is my duty.”
“Did you say ‘punishment to the wicked’?” Hermione asked coyly while still undoing her top. “Because my bottom is still a little sore. And even though I am ‘wicked’ and I like ‘punishment’ I think we should wait a while for another spanking.”
“Gotcha, no spankings,” Harry said and he began rapidly unbuttoning his shirt. He had decided not to do the manly thing and tear it open; he really didn’t like sewing. “I’ll just stick to using my parsletongue abilities.”
Harry dropped his underwear and stepped out of them while Hermione slowly opened her blouse. ‘Harry, Jr.’ grumbled about fair-play; here was Harry, completely naked, and Hermione still had her skirt and bra on. And, added to the penis’ ire, the ‘special book,’ lovely and wonderful as it was, was still on her lap. That meant it was blocking one of ‘Harry, Jr.’’s favorite entrances, damn it! Ignoring his appendage’s impatience, Harry continued to toy with his girlfriend. “How many climaxes do you think it’ll take to deal out punishment to the Death Eaters?”
“Like you said, as many as it takes,” she said, running her fingers over the edges of her cotton bra.
“Well, then, I’ll just have to do my best,” Harry boasted, hopping in place in eagerness. “I reckon that I’ll pleasure you so much that my tongue will be numb by the time I’m finished.”
Hermione bit her lip. Her blush deepened as she said, “You’ll be talking like Seamus then.”
“Sacrifices have to be made for justice. What’s a little numb tongue compared to punishing evil Death Eaters?”
With a gleeful expression, Hermione went to move the tantric magic book off of her lap. When her eyes fell on the text, the witch’s eyes grew wide and her joyful demeanor disappeared in a flash.
Recognizing that look, Harry asked “What is it?”
“I misread it,” Hermione practically whimpered. “It states we need more than two.”
“And I plan on giving you more than two,” Harry said with naked pride. “In fact, I plan on giving you so many that you lose consciousness. And I’ll probably continue to give you more when you’re asleep because I’m feeling frisky right now. It’s for justice after all.”
“No, Harry, not multiple orgasms, multiple partners,” Hermione corrected.
Harry blinked once. “Oh.”
He blinked again and asked, “By multiple you mean more than you and me?”
“Yes. To achieve the itching sensation in our targets I told you about, we would need a m?ge ?rois.”
“Manage a what?” asked a perplexed Harry.
“A threesome, Harry,” Hermione pointed out. “For a burning sensation akin to a bad rash, we would need four people. And for the target to feel utter pain, we would need at least six participants.”
“Oh,” Harry repeated. Causing pain to every marked Death Eater was appealing. Perhaps there was a way around it. “Maybe we can get Ron and Luna to join in,” he offered.
“Excuse me?” Hermione asked, clearly offended.
“You know, Ron and Luna can use the spare room while we’re in ours,” explained Harry. “We’ll just put up some silencing charms so we don’t hear each other.”
“You misunderstand, Harry,” she replied. “By multiple partners, the book said we have to share in the ritual.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning once Ron and Luna, and then you and I had our go, we would need to swap partners,” Hermione said with thinly veiled annoyance. “Which means you’d have to have sex with Luna and…” she punctuated these next words as if they were the most important part of her argument; “…I would have to sleep with RON! EWW!”
“They’re our friends and I love them,” admitted Harry. “But I don’t ‘love them’ love them.”
“RON! EWW!”
“They may have seen us have sex through Pensieve memories,” Harry continued. “But this would be entirely different. And different in a bad way.”
“All that red hair.”
“I don’t mind sharing some things, but there is a point where sharing becomes too much.”
“It would be like shagging a circus clown.”
Harry looked at his lover. “He’s still our friend. We don’t need to be cruel.”
“Circus clown,” she stated factually. “He already has the orange-ish red hair and abnormally big feet. All he needs to finish the ensemble is a red-rubber nose.”
“You don’t seem all that upset over the notion of me sleeping with Luna in this little scenario,” Harry dared to point out, hoping that Hermione would take it for the joke that it was intended to be.
“Well she isn’t a clown like Ron, is she?” Hermione replied. “Besides, what would you do with those enormous tits of hers? Honestly? Each one is bigger than your head. You wouldn’t know what to do with them.”
“I’d use them as a pillow,” he said with a naughty smile. “A big, soft, warm pillow.”
“We could both use her breast as pillows,” Hermione snorted a laugh. “You sleep on the left one I’ll get the right.”
The couple shared a belly laugh at the thought. After a moment, Hermione became more serious. “It’s too bad though about the ritual. It would’ve been nice to make those lousy Death Eaters suffer.”
“Can’t we still do it?” asked Harry. “Just ourselves mind you. I mean with both of our power boost, we should be able to perform it.”
“No, in this case, the participants’ power level has no effect on the ritual,” Hermione said with a pout. “In fact, according to this, some of the people could even be squibs and the outcome would still be the same.”
“Shame that,” Harry said, trying to look like he was deeply disappointed. The curled up edges of his mouth ruined the affect. “Oh well, I guess I’ll just have to give you several screaming orgasms just for fun then, justice be damned.”
With that, Harry leapt on his lover and tore at her skirt. A few scant minutes later, the first of many “OH SWEET BABY MAEVE!” was heard.
*
Later that week, Harry had come up with a rather brilliant plan. He had decided to perform the Wit Enhancing ritual that Hermione had created and then, once he was recuperated, they would do the han – err – searching ritual. This was brilliant for two reasons; first, he believed that with the temporary boost in his intelligence, he’d be able to deduce where the missing Horcrux was hidden. And second, this plan was brilliant because it involved two different sex acts, which were always fun.
To prepare for the Wit Enhancing ritual, Hermione warmed up by stretching so that she could hold the awkward position needed for it. And Harry warmed up both himself and his lover for the ritual by kissing, licking, and suckling Hermione’s various bits. After shouting the proper incantation of “Maximus Intellegentia!” when his climax hit him, Harry felt the wave of magic pass through him. He knew that the ritual had increased his intelligence because as he waited for his stamina to return, he and Hermione speculated that the cooling weather this season would make the skins of Mandrakes particularly thick, making the plants overly bitter and angry.
An hour or two after performing the Wit Enhancing ritual, Harry and Hermione started the han – err – other ritual. A few seconds after Hermione began to massage Harry and while both teens chanted their separate incantations, they felt the now familiar sensations of their spirits leaving their bodies. Once again, astral-Harry and Hermione dove through the air and ended up in the darkness. Unfortunately, their increased intelligence shed little light on the darkness. In fact, while they hovered in the inky blackness, the two lovers discussed the esoteric ramifications of the color black and what it various meanings meant for mankind throughout the ages.
Despite the fact that they weren’t able to discern the location of the missing Horcrux, Harry suggested that they attempt the ritual again immediately upon returning to his body.
“You just want me to give you another hand-job,” Hermione said in a reproachable fashion.
“Yes,” he replied with all honestly. He then went on to lecture on the numerous health benefits of an active sex life.
*
A few days later, after the effects of the wit enhancing ritual wore off, Harry and Hermione made their way to their chambers after their lessons had ended for the day. Harry was pleasantly surprised to find Remus waiting for them in the Head Students’ common room.
“What’s up, Moony?” he asked as Hermione shut the door.
“I’m sorry to bother you two,” Remus said apologetically. “But something rather curious has come up.”
“What is it?” asked Hermione.
“Do you believe in reincarnation?” the older wizard asked sincerely.
“I’ve never really given it much thought,” Harry said.
“I’ve read some books on the subject,” offered Hermione.
“Well, prepare to be amazed,” Remus stated and he opened the door leading to Harry and Hermione’s room.
Slowly, little Sirius, Remus’ son, came out of the room. The infant didn’t crawl; in fact he walked upright, on two wobbly legs.
“He’s not supposed to do that,” Hermione said to Remus. “Sirius is too young to be able to even crawl, much less walk.”
“Then I guess I shouldn’t be able to talk either,” the infant said in a squeaky voice.
“What the hell is going on?” Harry asked in shock as he stared at the talking infant.
“Harry, Hermione, I’m Sirius,” the baby stated.
“Yes, we know that,” Hermione said.
“No, not ‘Sirius, Remus’ son,’ I’m Sirius, Remus’ old lover and Harry’s godfather,” the baby corrected.
“You can’t be able to talk,” Hermione balked.
“Wait… Sirius was gay?” Harry asked in disbelief. “I thought he was a ladies’ man?”
“No, we only referred to your father in that way,” Remus pointed out. “Never once did we mention our sexuality to you, Harry. Not because we weren’t proud, but because we were private.”
“Wait, you’re gay?” Harry asked Remus again.
“The proper term is bisexual, but yes, I’m gay,” the older wizard answered. “Having a Metamorphmagus as a wife really does have its benefits, especially in the sack.”
“Hey, remember me,” the baby waved his chubby little arm to get everyone’s attention. “I’m the issue here, not the fact that Remus liked to slob knobs.”
“Crude as always,” Remus criticized, rolling his eyes in disapproval.
“I could remind a certain someone in this room that he used to particularly enjoy my crude language, especially when that certain someone and I were locked up in dark and cramped broom cupboards, but I won’t,” little Sirius commented. “We need to find out how this happened.”
“The baby is talking!” Hermione said in shocked disbelief while pointing at Sirius.
“Well, that’s the point. But, I’m not a baby, not really,” little Sirius said. “I’m Sirius Black. I went to school with Remus, James, Lily, Wormtail, and Snape. I fought in the first war as a member of the Order of the Phoenix, was betrayed by Wormtail, chucked in Azkaban, escaped, met you, Harry, went on the run, then got locked up in Grimmauld Place, fell through the Veil in the Department of Mysteries. The next thing I know, I’m getting pushed out of my cousin’s womb. How’d this happen?”
“The baby is talking!” Hermione, still in shock, repeated.
“Hermione, I need your brains right now,” Remus said and it seemed to draw the brunette witch out of her stupor. “You’re one of the brightest people I know and I need you to figure out what happened.”
Clearly bolstered by Remus’ compliment, Hermione snapped to attention. “So, he’s Sirius?” she questioned.
“Yes, he has all of Sirius’ memories and experiences,” Remus summarized. “I don’t know if it was because of that ritual you and Harry tricked us into doing, or the fact that I’m a werewolf and Tonks’ is a Metamorphmagus. Or even a combination of different things that caused this.”
“Wait, wait,” Hermione demanded. “I read some cases of reincarnation. But I have never heard of one where the person has retained all of their memories from their past lives. It’s never happened.”
“Well, it happened to me, Hermione,” Sirius said.
“But it’s not possible,” she countered. “The cases I read stated that sometimes a few vague memories may remain, but nothing like what you’re describing. You must be mistaken. Surely you can’t be Sirius.”
A tiny, impish grin appeared on both Remus and the baby, as if they had been expecting Hermione’s comment. With his squeaky voice, little Sirius uttered “I am serious, and don’t call me Shirley.”
Harry paused a second before saying “Wait, I’ve heard that before. On the telly I think.”
Hermione turned and faced Harry. It was clear by her expression that she was about to ask him what he was talking about when realization suddenly dawned upon her. “Oh, you cheeky bastard!” Hermione cursed at Remus. She pointed an accusatory finger at the older wizard and loudly scolded again, “Cheeky bastard!”
“Shh, you’ll wake the baby,” Remus said between peals of laughter.
“Oh, yes, Hermione shouting will wake up the baby, not his father laughing like a baboon,” Tonks sarcastically commented as she walked out of Harry and Hermione’s room. Bundled in the pink haired witch’s arms was a smiling baby Sirius.
Harry’s eyes darted between the two copies of baby-Sirius. He asked, pointing to the baby in Tonks’ arms “If that’s Sirius, then who’s that?” and pointed at the one standing next to Remus.
“That’s Courtney, under polyjuice,” informed a still laughing Remus. “She begged to be part of a prank against the two of you. How could we refuse?”
“Can I sit down now?” Courtney said in the baby’s squeaky voice. “I haven’t any bloody kneecaps thanks to being an infant, and it hurts to stand.”
As the polyjuiced Auror plopped down on the ground, Harry shot a disbelieving look at Remus. “You brewed polyjuice, which takes a month to do, just to pull one of the oldest and most clich?jokes in the world?”
“Yes!” cheered Remus.
Obviously encouraged by his father’s laughter, the real Sirius began to chuckle. Well, actually, he made more of gurgling and spitting sounds, but you could tell that he was trying to laugh along with his dad. The cute sounds that the real baby-Sirius was making lightened Harry’s and Hermione’s moods.
“I can’t believe you went through all the trouble of brewing polyjuice just so you can prank us with the ‘Sirius-serious’ joke,” Hermione guffawed.
“If it isn’t broken, don’t fix it,” Remus said proudly.
“What I don’t get is the whole gay thing?” asked Harry.
“Adding elements of the truth in a prank always heightens the realism of it,” Remus responded.
“Wait, you really are gay?” Hermione asked, taken back slightly.
“As I told you before, I’m bisexual,” corrected Remus.
“Not before you met me, you weren’t,” Tonks interjected. “You only liked blokes until I came along.”
“So you and Sirius were a couple?” Harry asked, ashamed he hadn’t realized.
“Yes, we were,” Remus said with a pleasant smile. “We were lovers but we broke up over a tiff we had shortly before Wormtail betrayed us all. Then we reconnected after the year I taught at Hogwarts. And we reconnected several hundred times while he was locked up in Grimmauld Place.”
Harry experienced a moment of happiness. He realized that he was happy with the thought that at least his godfather had some comfort before he died.
“So that comment about Tonks’ metamorphmagus abilities being a benefit was true?” Hermione asked tentatively.
“Yes, Hermione. Not only can I change my appearance, I can change my plumbing too,” Tonks said with a smile. The pink haired witch walked up to Hermione and confided; “You gain a whole new appreciation for how much blokes love blow-jobs when you can grow a willy and have it sucked on.”
“Oh,” uttered Hermione as she blushed a deep ruby red.
“I don’t mean to be a pest, but the polyjuice is about to wear off,” Courtney said. “And seeing how I’m only wearing a nappy, I’ll be pretty much naked. Now, I know how kinky Hermione and Harry are, but I don’t want to give them a show.”
“Alright, we’d better leave then,” Remus said.
After saying their goodbyes, Harry and Hermione were left alone.
“So, what should we do now?” Harry asked. He was hoping Hermione would ask for suggestions to which he’d offer “How about you bend over the desk…” but unfortunately, Hermione stated;
“I have to head to the Library and study.” She scooped up some parchment and quills. “Professor McGonagall offered me some extra credit and I’m taking her up on it.”
“But, your grade is around one hundred and eighty percent already. Why do you need extra credit?” complained Harry.
“It never hurts to get on Professor McGonagall’s good side,” Hermione stated.
“Her good side? Merlin, Hermione, McGonagall loves you so much right now I’d bet she has you in her will.”
“Maybe you should learn from my example,” Hermione challenged. “You could always boost your marks up a bit. How about you join me and we both can get some extra credit?”
“No,” he said automatically. “I’ve been reading and studying all day long. It’s time for a break.”
“Fine, it’s your loss,” Hermione said and made her way out of the room.
Harry grumbled. He was looking forward to making love with Hermione. So much so that ‘Harry, Jr.’ was stirring from his slumber. The organ was slowly risingand asked where Hermione was. For a moment, Harry considered taking the issue in hand – literally – and alleviate himself. But he had a girlfriend now and therefore he shouldn’t have to do this solo anymore. Grumpily, Harry flopped down on the couch.
A loose piece of parchment sticking out of one of Harry’s books on Quidditch caught his eye. He remembered that he had written down something and placed in a book back when he was under the effects of the Wit Enhancing ritual, but like all things he learned or thought during that time, Harry had only fuzzy recollections. Curious as to what he had written, Harry reached over and pulled the paper out of the book. It was a note, in his hand, addressed to himself. It read;
“Dear Harry,
Since you cannot remember things that occurred clearly, I have written this note.
I had a wonderful idea for a charm, and thanks to the boosted intelligence I received, I created it. I have not told Hermione about this spell because I want it to be a surprise.
It is called Loninquitas Amorus. I won’t go into detail how I created or how it works because I know how feeble your mind is…”
Harry paused in his reading. Had he just insulted his own intelligence? As if he had somehow predicted this question back when he wrote the note, the next line stated;
“Yes, I just insulted your intelligence, get over it.
Now back to the charm; the name Loninquitas Amorus literally means ‘Distance Love.’ Basically, with this spell, you will be able to pleasure Hermione from a distance. There is no physical contact, penetration, or liquid exchange. Hermione will only experience sensations and feelings. Just purse your lips in a kiss and imagine that you are kissing her and Hermione will have the sensation of actually being kissed. The same applies for foreplay; if you move your fingers about while focusing on Hermione’s ‘flower’ she’ll get the sensation of being stimulated. Same tactics apply to oral sex; work your tongue while pretending to eat her out and she’ll get the sensation.
Sex is even simpler than anything else. The technique you’ll need to perform this part of the charm is something you’ve been practicing for years; masturbation. While you’re wanking yourself, imagine that Hermione is wrapped around your organ instead of your hand.
The incantation is Loninquitas Amorus if you haven’t figured that out already. The necessary wand movements and spell intents are fully detailed on the second sheet of parchment.
Yours… or rather ‘me’s,’
Harry.”
A nasty smile stretched across Harry’s face. He got up from the couch and fetched his Invisibility Cloak and made his way to the Library. He reckoned it was high-time to test out this new charm.
Once he was close to the Library, Harry slipped into a classroom. There, he cast a Silencing Charm around himself, jotted down a quick note, and tossed the Invisibility Cloak over his body. With the combination of Cloak and the Silencing Charm, no one would be able to see or hear Harry as he performed his new charm on Hermione. Well except for Moody’s Magical Eye, and he wasn’t anywhere near the library, so it’s the same thing.
Walking into the Library, Harry noted that it was rather crowded. A group of fifth year Slytherins was in the Divination section, while two sixth year Ravenclaws were browsing Ancient Runes. And located next to the table where Hermione was doing some light reading (only four books at the moment) was nearly a dozen second years from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, huddled around a large tome. Pince, the Librarian, was scuttling from group to group, making sure no one was up to any shenanigans.
Silently, Harry slinked up to Hermione and placed the note he had just written on the book she was reading. When he pulled his hand away, it must’ve looked like the note popped into existence to Hermione. Before reading the scrap of paper, Hermione looked around, trying to find Harry, obviously knowing that he was hiding under his Cloak. Giving up on trying to find her lover, Hermione read the note.
“I created a new charm and I’m going to test it out. Just try and remain quiet.
Love,
H.”
Hermione eyes narrowed in question as Harry took his place a few feet away from her. Whether she was going to ask what type of charm it was, why would she have to try to be quiet, or how on earth Harry was able to create a charm didn’t matter. Under his Cloak, Harry waved his wand in the proscribed manner and incanted “Loninquitas Amorus.”
Harry pursed his lips and imagined pressing them to Hermione’s. He pretended to take in her scent. He saw his girlfriends eyes widened in surprise. She reached up and touched her lips, clearly wondering why it felt like she was being kissed. Harry parted his lips and slid his tongue out, remembering what it felt like to have his tongue roll around Hermione’s mouth. A fetching blush grew on Hermione’s cheeks.
Satisfied that the charm was working so far, Harry decided to progress further. He imagined trailing kisses down Hermione chin, neck, and to her breasts. The brunette witch gave a startled little jump when Harry mimed tweaking her nipples. He magically worked on her breasts for some time, licking, suckling, tweaking, and caressing air. Hermione fidgeted slightly as the sensation of having Harry kiss and fondle her body overcame her.
Smiling, Harry moved onto the next part of his plan. He held his hand in front of his face, extended his fore and middle finger, spreading them out in a “v” and began to lick the space between his fingers. Hermione sat bolt straight in her chair as she felt Harry’s tongue on her nether lips. Eyes bulging and darting in every direction, the witch was clearly worried that someone would notice her predicament. And knowing how kinky his witch was, Harry was positive that the threat of discovery was turning Hermione on even more.
Tiny beads of sweat blossomed on Hermione’s brow. Harry assumed that she must’ve been practically flowing at that time. But, he wanted more out of her. Tapping into his love core, Harry activated his parseltongue ability.
“That’s cheating!” Hermione muttered under her breath. Almost instantaneously, she began to gyrate her hips, grinding her bum and other bits into her seat. “Cheating! Unfair! Cheating!” she chanted in a soft voice.
A short while later, Hermione began to tremble. Harry knew that she wanted to cry out in ecstasy but she was forcing it back. Her mouth opened and her lips formed a tight “o.” The witch’s eyelids were half closed. Harry realized that his lover was about to have one hell of a climax. He guessed that it must’ve been the combination of his parsletongue magic, the threat of being found out, and books – which were a turn on for Hermione – that was eliciting such a response from her.
Suddenly, Hermione gripped the edge of the table and stomped her feet down. Seemingly involuntarily, her bottom rose up off of the seat two or three inches. The witch let out a long, shuttering “o-o-oh!” before slowly lowering herself back onto the chair.
While she caught her breath, Hermione looked over at the group of second years just a few feet away. Thankfully, none of them had seemed to have noticed her actions. While Hermione was attempting to regain her composure, Harry pulled a very eager ‘Harry, Jr.’ out of his trousers. The raven haired wizard spat a large amount of saliva onto his palm and spread it over his organ. He spat once more and remembered the actual sensation of what it felt like to make love to Hermione. The wizard gripped his “wand” and slowly stroked himself.
Hermione’s eyes shot open, wider than they ever had before. It looked like her eyes were threatening to leap out of her skull and roll across the table.
“Oh, my,” she muttered softly.
Inch by inch, Harry slowly moved his hand down his shaft. Then, just as slowly, he slid his hand back up. He repeated this twice more and Hermione’s hands gripped the table, her feet stomped the ground, and her lips formed an “o” once again. Harry marveled at Hermione’s reaction, she was already approaching another orgasm. Apparently, his new spell was working wonderfully.
Harry continued to masturbate for several minutes. During this time Hermione had no less than three orgasms, each one threatening her resolve not to cry out passionately. She had sweated so much that her hair clung to her face, which was glowing red.
“Miss Granger, are you well?” Madame Pince asked.
Harry had been so intent on Hermione that he had not seen the Librarian walk up to her table.
“YES!” Hermione said a little too vehemently.
Harry wanted to stop, but he was so damn close that his hand wouldn’t listen. It continued to pump away involuntarily.
“I’m f-f-fine, ma…ma’am,” Hermione stuttered. With a touch of horror, Harry could tell that another orgasm was about to hit his lover any second. Thankfully though, Harry was in a similar state. He took comfort knowing that it would soon be over.
“You look ill, girl,” Pince pressed.
“O-oh, its n-n-nothing,” insisted Hermione rather breathily. “It’s j-just my ah-ah-allergies.”
“You should go see Madame Pomfrey,” suggested Pince. “She has a number of allergy remedies.”
“I’ll do-do-do that,” agreed Hermione. Then it was upon her. Harry saw her eyes grow wide in a combination of ecstasy and terror. A very large climax was about to claim her. And judging by the look of fear in her eyes, Harry knew that Hermione wouldn’t be able to stifle any cries that would ensue. Hermione took in a great, deep breath and Harry tensed, waiting for her scream of passion.
“AH-CHOO!” Hermione let out a very loud and very fake sneeze. “AH-CHOO!” she echoed and her feet kicked out. She threw her head back and “sneezed” several times in succession. “AH! AHHH! AH-AH-CHOO! AH-CHOOOOooo! AH-CHOO!” Harry was wincing at Hermione’s utter lack of acting ability. He was honestly surprised that the librarian was buying those clearly fake sneezes.
As his lover continued to hide her screaming orgasm with sneezes, Harry finally joined her in ecstasy. With a grunt, Harry ejaculated.
“My, that was a mighty large one,” Pince commented, surprised by the ferocity of Hermione’s sneeze.
“Damn right it was,” Hermione muttered in a husky voice. The edges of her lips spiked upwards and her eyes were sparkling in a truly satisfied way.
“Well, get yourself to the Hospital ward straight away,” Pince ordered. Harry could tell that the Librarian was less concerned about Hermione’s health than she was about the younger witch getting germs and boogies all over her precious books.
“Let me catch my breath, then I’ll go see Pomfrey,” Hermione sighed contentedly.
Now that his task was completed Harry magically cleansed his discharge (he had thought about leaving his mess on the floor but that was too unhygienic) and left.
Humming happily to himself, Harry walked toward the Head Boy and Girl’s room unseen and unheard by anyone. He was satisfied, not only for having created such a useful spell like Loninquitas Amorus but also for making Hermione climax like she had never before.
“Potter’s the best teacher, I tell you,” a sixth year Ravenclaw told his friends as Harry passed a small gathering. Curious as to why these kids were talking about him, Harry moved closer so that he could listen in.
“I’ve learned so much from him,” another boy added with a grin.
For a moment, Harry had thought they were talking about Dumbledore’s Army, but it didn’t make sense at all. None of these younger wizards were part of that group so they clearly couldn’t be talking about Harry’s lessons in Defense.
“My bird loves what I’ve learned,” a third boasted. “She was practically gushing.”
“But not as much as Granger gushes, I’d wager,” the second chuckled. “She’s an effing hosepipe… but in a good way.”
Harry’s blood turned to ice in his veins.
“I can’t wait for my turn to watch it,” a fourth said excitedly.
“Why? You don’t even have a girlfriend,” the first ridiculed.
“So? That doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy watching the Pensieves.”
“It was pretty cool to watch,” the second said in a distracted way, like he was reminiscing. “Granger is hot and so damned frisky.”
“And besides, look at Creevey,” the third pointed out. “He didn’t have a girlfriend, and now thanks to those Pensieves, he’s bagged Patil.”
“I really can’t wait until it’s my turn to watch,” the fourth repeated.
In total shock, Harry stumbled away from the group of Ravenclaws. As he blindly made his way back to his chambers, his mind was rocked by what he had just heard. The Pensieve Memory he and Hermione had made for Ron was making the rounds at school. People were watching Harry and Hermione being intimate. That was why everyone was acting strangely; Su Li kissing Hermione, that Ravenclaw giving him the thumbs up a few days before, Seamus with Pavarti and Lavender, and Colin with Padma.
Harry didn’t know how he made it into his chambers or when he had taken off his Invisibility Cloak which was draped over a nearby chair. He was looking around the room in a daze and had not noticed Hermione walk in.
“That was a very, very interesting charm,” she complimented. “Did you make it while under the effects of the Wit Enhancing ritual?”
“Sure,” he uttered, not listening to what she had said.
“It worked wonderfully, but you do have to work on your aim a bit,” the brunette witch added with a smile plastered on her face. “You see, when you entered me, you were just a few inches off course.”
“Okay,” he spoke, skill shocked over the revelation that Ron had passed the Pensieve Memory around and that a good number of his peers had watched him go down on Hermione.
“I’m not angry,” Hermione continued, not noticing Harry’s distracted mindset. “I found that I rather liked it. Actually, that’s an understatement. Well, don’t be cross because I know I said I’d never let you take me that way, but I say lets give it a shot right now. It is possible that it was the effects of your love based magic that gave me such a… positive response and the actual physical act of sodomy may be unbearable, but I’m willing to give it a try,” she finished with a nervous yet eager twinkle in her eyes.”
“Un-huh,” Harry said evenly.
“Harry, what is your problem?” she demanded. “I just asked you to bugger me and you’re acting like I killed Hedwig.”
Slowly, Harry turned and faced his lover. He tried to find a way to sugarcoat the news, but how does one say “Well, we’re accidental porn-stars, dear.” So Harry just blurted it out.
“Remember that Pensieve Memory we made for Ron and Luna?” Harry asked. Hermione nodded, and he continued in a rapid manner, “Well, Ron’s been lending it out.”
“To whom?” she asked with an angry expression on her face.
“Um, everyone,” he answered.
“Everyone?” she nearly screeched. The anger in her eyes grew in intensity.
“Yes, everyone,” he confirmed. “Apparently in turns.”
Anger could no longer describe Hermione’s expression and Harry had a difficult time finding a proper word to describe it. But one thing Harry did do was make a mental note to write a touching eulogy for Ron.

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Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor
Chapter Eight
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 Eight Summary: Harry goes on the ride of his life!
Harry slowly turned to face Ron. The rage and anger Harry was feeling was about to be unloaded upon his taller friend. But before he could unleash his fury, one of the witches who had gotten off of the Knight Bus spoke up.
“Would you lot budge up or get out of the queue,” the witch demanded. “My kids have been waiting for this for months.”
Harry was quite surprised to find that he, Hermione, and Ron had somehow wandered into the line of customers waiting to enter Godric’s Hollow. He was even more surprised to see that Ron was already at the ticket window.
“Excuse me, my friend over there is Harry Potter,” Ron said to the wizard behind the counter. “So what kind of discount do we get?”
“Let me check with my supervisor, governor,” the old wizard replied in an obviously bored tone. He leaned back in his chair and without taking his bleary eyes off of Ron and shouted over his shoulder to someone behind him. “Oi, Brian, we’ve got another one claimin’ to be ‘The Boy Who Lived’ and wanting a discount.”
“What’s the count up to today, Curt?” a disembodied voice echoed from behind the wizard in the ticket window.
“Eighth one today,” Curt, the ticket salesman responded. “That’s four up from yesterday.”
“If this keeps up, we’ll break the record for most ‘Harry Potter Sightings’ in one day,” Brian commented.
“But this really is Harry Potter!” argued Ron. “Look at his scar!”
Harry felt the desire to physically harm Ron as Curt leaned out of his booth and examined Harry’s infamous scar.
“Bit small innit?” remarked Curt. “The last “Harry Potter” had a much bigger one. And it flashed a green light every now and then. That was impressive!”
“Would you just pay for the tickets so the rest of us can move along!” the witch with three children demanded. “We don’t have all day!”
“Fine then, how much for three?” Ron asked grumpily as he dug into his pockets.
“Nine knuts,” Curt replied mirthlessly.
“Excuse me, who runs this… this place,” Hermione demanded as she gestured to the warehouse.
“Mr. Joseph Middwood,” Curt answered. The name struck a cord with Harry, but he couldn’t place it. Harry hoped that Remus would know who this Middwood was and could tell him something about the man.
“I demand to speak with him this instant,” commanded Hermione.
“That’s fine miss,” Curt replied. “He’s up in the gift shop.”
“How do we get there?” asked Hermione.
“The only way to the gift shop is through the ride.”
“You must be joking!” Hermione stated shrilly.
“Nope,” Curt said with a smile. “You’ll still have to pay for the ride.”
“Here,” grumbled Ron as he gave Curt nine knuts, a sweet wrapper, a bit of string, and some pocket lint. Apparently, Ron was so upset over not getting a discount that he had just grabbed whatever happened to be in his pocket. Luckily it was the exact amount needed for three adult tickets – plus a sweet wrapper, a bit of string, and some pocket lint.
Ron grumbled some more as he sulked through the entranceway and Harry and Hermione silently followed.
“C’mon you two,” Ron hollered from down the hall, “the ride’s this way!”
The trio began to walk down a brightly lit hallway adorned with multiple magical posters.
“I don’t see why you’re so excited about this ride, Ron,” said Hermione.
The first poster that caught Harry’s eye was that of a young baby, maybe a year or so old. It took him a moment to realize that it was actually a photo of himself. He was slightly embarrassed at the fact that baby Harry was blowing spit bubbles at the person who had taken the picture. A title scrolled across the bottom of the poster that stated “The Boy Who Lived!”
A poster to his left showed the handsome visage of his father, James. James was smiling and winking in the poster while words scrolled at the bottom of the picture announced, “James Potter; father of The Boy Who Lived”.
“Why not?” replied Ron to Hermione’s question. “I know it’s a little lame, but it’s still fun!”
Another poster showed Lily, Harry’s mother, smiling sweetly with the scrolling words: “Lily Potter, mother of The Boy Who Lived”. Harry felt his eyes begin to well up.
“FUN!” barked Hermione. “These people are making a mockery of Harry’s pain and you think its ‘fun’?”
“What d’you mean a mockery -?” Ron asked and stopped as he finally noticed the tears in Harry’s eyes. Ron looked nervously between Harry and a nearby poster that show a jubilant James and Lily looking at a black-haired baby attempting to walk on his own. “Oh, crap Harry,” Ron mumbled in a guilty way. “I didn’t realize…”
“Let’s just get this over with,” Harry said softly with a mixture of sadness and anger in his voice.
The next poster that caught Harry’s eye was that of a menacing figure completely shrouded within a black robe as the phrase “The most feared Dark Lord in our time!” scrolled across the bottom.
Harry shook his head in disbelief and passed through a doorway and entered a large room with a number of wooden carts on several tracks. The tracks all led out of the room through a large set of double doors. A wizard wearing a pointy hat with the words “Ride the Hollow!” embroidered on it ushered Harry, Hermione, and Ron into the front of one of the carts. A family of three took up the row behind them.
A disembodied booming male voice emanated from somewhere above the cart.
“/Join us as we use the magical Time Turner to travel back to that fateful day…/”
An obviously phony Time Turner attached to the front of the cart started spinning before their eyes.
“That’s not a real Time Turner, ya know,” informed Ron like it wasn’t obvious and he needed to point it out.
The cart lurched forward as the double doors slowly opened and the cart moved into the blackness. After a moment in the darkness, the cart and its passengers emerged into a bright and sunny field.
“/Watch as the Potter family goes about their daily routine,/” the booming male voice stated as the cart approached a group of people outside the house.
Harry could see two adult figures, a man and a woman, standing in the garden in front of that house. One could tell that these people were magical representations by the way they moved. They way they moved their legs and arms were too jerky and unnatural. They were clearly poorly animated mannequins. As the cart got closer, the woman stiltedly bent down and picked up a small child.
“Let me have him, love,” the man said and the woman carefully handed him the child. “Does Harry want to play with his daddy?”
“Do be careful James,” the woman chastised.
Harry felt as if he was hit hard in the stomach and all the wind was knocked out of him.
It was his mother and father.
The fake James tossed the fake Harry up into the air and the baby giggled uproariously.
Even though he could tell that the way the mannequins’ were fakes by their stuttering movement, whoever had created this charade had gotten his parents’ voices and likenesses down perfectly. Seeing and hearing these reproductions cut through Harry like a knife.
The fake baby reached its chubby little arms out to its fake mother and Harry’s eyes blurred. He failed in his attempt to swallow the large lump that had grown in his throat as the tears spilled form his eyes.
Hermione let out a soft sob as the fake Lilly took her fake baby into her arms and playfully placed tiny kisses over its face. Harry cradled Hermione to his chest as tears ran down his own face. He could tell without looking that Ron was hanging his head in regret at the thought of ever enjoying such a travesty of his friend’s life.
The fake Potter family strolled into the house and the announcer’s voice sounded again.
“/But the Potters’ did not know of the terrible fate that awaited them…/” the disembodied voice warned.
The sunny sky over Harry’s head quickly darkened. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed as the cart entered the garden.
“/You too shall share their fates this night!/” The booming voice cackled.
The little girl sitting behind Harry turned to her father and said something that must have been terribly important to her.
“I love you, Daddy,” the girl whispered in fear, as if she was positive she was doomed and she wanted to make sure her father knew how much she cared for him before she died.
With a flash of lightning, an ominous figure appeared in front of the cart. The family behind Harry let out a terrified scream as the figure revealed his deeply tanned face to them. Harry could tell from their screams that the girl and her brother were truly terrified, but the father was just playing along.
“IT’S HIM!” the girl screeched.
Harry was surprised when a scoffing noise escaped his lips upon the sight of “He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named”. Harry bitterly realized that while whoever had created this atrocity had numerous photos of James, Lily, and baby Harry to base their mannequins off of, but they hadn’t even a vague notion of what Voldemort looked like. The effect was comical to Harry; this Voldemort was just a standard male mannequin that would have normally adorn a shop window. The only modification that Harry could see was that the mannequin had red eyes.
“Do you mind?” the father stated, taking offence at Harry’s scoff.
The fake Voldemort made his way to the front door of the house and the cart followed him. The mannequin pointed his wand at the door.
“They’ve got the wand wrong,” Harry bitterly muttered. “Along with how he looks as well.”
“And how would you know?” the father asked.
Harry turned in his seat and looked at the man while holding up his fringe to expose his famous scar.
“Oooo,” the father said with insincere awe. “It’s the bloke who wanted a free ticket because he’s /’Harry Potter’/. Just because you had to pay like the rest of us ‘cuz your scam didn’t work doesn’t mean you have to ruin it for everybody.”
Harry was about to put the wizard in his place when the Voldemort-mannequin shouted “REDUCTO!”
Red sparks erupted from his wand just as that door and a portion of the wall surrounding it were “blown” to bits. Of course the hole in the wall had just happened to be wide enough for the cart to pass through.
The cart followed the Voldemort-mannequin into the house.
“Lilly, get Harry out of here!” the fake James shouted and he fired off a number of brightly colored sparks out of his wand. The family behind Harry let out a surprised yelp as one of the sparks soared over their heads and exploded against the wall.
The Lily-mannequin dashed up the stairs with the fake child in her arms. James continued to fire off sparks as he too made his way to the stairs.
“This is futile, Potter,” the mannequin Voldemort hissed. Harry noted another mistake that the ride makers had made, this Voldemort’s voice was low and rumbling instead of high and cold. “Accept your fate and surrender.”
The fake James slowly walked backwards up the stairs with his wand held in front of him defensively. Voldemort-mannequin cackled while walking up the stairs after his prey and the cart followed him.
Sparks continued to shoot out of the fake-James’ wand and continued to completely missing the Voldemort-mannequin. Blue, red, yellow, and purple sparks rocked overhead and the family behind the trio let out another scream.
“Boy, that James bloke couldn’t aim worth a darn could he, kids?” the father asked rhetorically as another barrage of sparks flew past Voldemort and over the cart.
“This ends now, Blood-Traitor!” Voldemort said mirthlessly and then shouted “AVADA KEDAVRA!”
The magical copy of James slumped to the floor and the fake-Voldemort stepped over his body. As the cart passed “the body,” the wizard sitting behind Harry said jokingly to his children “I guess he should’ve ducked, huh?”
Harry was suddenly enraged. Not only did this ride make a mockery of his parents, it led other people to openly treat them with contempt as well.
“REDUCTO!” the fake-Voldemort shout again once he had reached the top of the stairs. Another cart sized hole was blown into the wall and the fake-Voldemort walked over the rubble to enter the nursery.
“I’ll make you pay for that, you fiend!” the mannequin Lilly screamed and shot off a series of Stunners at the fake-Voldemort who nonchalantly blocked them.
“This is pointless, woman,” the fake-Voldemort said in a bored tone.
“I won’t let you hurt my baby!” Lily said defiantly as she stood in front of the crib.
‘This isn’t how it happened!’ Harry thought piercingly. Then again, the only two people alive who were there, he and Voldemort, didn’t have much say in how the ride was made.
“And how will you stop me?” chuckled Voldemort. “AVADA KEDAVRA!”
With a flash of green light, the mannequin of Lily crumpled to the floor. Silently, Voldemort stalked over to the crib and pointed his wand at the baby inside. Once more, Voldemort shouted “AVADA KEDAVRA!”
The fake Voldemort recoiled from the crib as a bright white light emanated from it.
“What is this?” he demanded as the fake baby Harry began to levitate out of the crib. The toddler was throwing off the bright light that had made Voldemort flinch. Then suddenly, an even brighter light – almost blinding light – flashed out of the baby’s head like a lightning bolt and struck Voldemort. The villain screamed in pain and vanished in a puff of smoke.
The family behind Harry cheered triumphantly as the cart move toward the wall next to the crib and the hovering baby Harry (who was still glowing). A large double door suddenly appeared and opened in the wall and the cart passed through.
The cart and its passengers entered a crowded gift shop. Harry’s eyes were drawn to the back wall which was covered with various pullovers with different slogans printed on them, including “James couldn’t hit the broadside of an Acromantula”, “I rode shotgun with You Know Who”/, and /”I think glowing Harry is adorable”/. Another wall housed numerous books with titles like, “/The Riddle of Harry and the Dark Lord/, by Jim Lillian”, “/Lily and Her Acceptance of Fate/, by A. R. YaLing” and “/Aiming Tips or How not to miss like James Potter by Gregory Youdle.”
But the thing that shocked Harry the most was a large barrel located next to the checkout. The barrel was overflowing with small figurines of glowing babies. Glowing baby Harry’s that is.
“Daddydaddydadddy” the older child behind Harry squealed. “Can I have another glowing baby Harry?”
“You already have dozens love,” the father said as he stood up and began to walk out of the cart. Harry and his friends however, were still sitting in the cart in various stages of shock and embarrassment.
“Please daddy,” the boy whined, “just one more.”
“All right, just one more,” the father said while making his way toward the books.
“Sorry folks,” a pimply faced wizard said breaking Harry out of his stupor. “But you’ll need to exit the magical transport now.” He stressed the phrase “magical transport” as if he was trained to do so and that if he didn’t refer to the cart as such, he would face disciplinary action.
Gloomily, the trio exited the cart.
“Excuse me, where may I find Mr. Middwood?” Hermione asked the pimply wizard.
“Oh, he’s over there by the books,” informed the wizard.
Harry saw the wizard who had been seated behind them on the cart approach the identified manager, a grey haired wizard in expensive looking silk robes.
“Mr. Middwood, smashing to see you again,” greeted the father.
“Ah, Mr. Cummings, my favorite customer,” heralded Middwood as he took the other man’s hand in greeting. “What’s this, your fourth time on the ride this year?”
“Fifth, actually, but it’s the first for my youngest here” corrected Mr. Cummings. “She’d been dreaming of the day she was finally tall enough for the ride. Personally, I can’t wait ’til you add the graveyard scene for You Know Who’s resurrection.”
“Oh, yes,” Middwood replied proudly. “I have to tell you that the Death Eaters look quite frightening.”
Unconsciously, Harry stomped over to the two men. Harry was going to vent all of his anger upon Middwood. Behind him he could hear an explosion coming from the ride. Apparently, the ride had restarted and the next cart was making its way through the house. Judging by his ride, Harry believed that the fake Voldemort must’ve just blown up the front door of the house.
“I can’t wait to see that!” exclaimed Mr. Cummings.
“It will be quite exciting,” Middwood declared.
“Are you Joseph Middwood?” Harry asked after he reached the two men.
Without turning around, Muddwood replied “Yes, I am.”
“What have you done to my parents’ house?” demanded Harry.
“Not another one,” Middwood muttered. Mr. Cummings rolled his eyes in annoyance as Middwood turned to face Harry. “Listen here, I’m not gonna share my profits with some bloke who claims to be Harry Po-” Middwood froze as he locked eyes with Harry. “Oh bloody hell…”
“What have you done with my parents’ house?” repeated Harry.
“I… um…err…” Middwood stammered opening and closing his mouth like a fish. “H-hel-h-hello Harry, l-long time no see,” he finished nervously.
“What have you done with my parents’ house?” repeated Harry, anger apparent on his face. Another explosion erupted from somewhere in the ride, apparently, Voldemort had just entered the nursery.
“Well, it blew up… and I decided to rebuild it…” explained Middwood desperately hoping to calm the young wizard.
“Wait. Are you saying that this is actually Harry Potter?” asked Mr. Cummings in disbelief.
“Stuff it, ponce,” Ron stated, joining the group.
“When I was in the process of rebuilding Godric’s Hollow… some people started to stop by… they wanted a tour… they offered me money… I couldn’t pass it up,” Middwood continued.
Another blast emanated from the ride as Harry clenched his fists in rage.
“And you decided to make the death of Harry’s parents a tourist attraction?” demanded Hermione.
“Well, not originally. But one thing led to another…” replied Middwood meekly.
With a boom, Harry heard the double doors leading into the gift shop open and smoke billowed into the room.
“That’s odd, I don’t remember any smoke,” Hermione said to herself.
“Wow, you’re right; those Death Eaters you made for the addition are scary,” Mr. Cummings murmured while looking past Harry.
“Wha…? They’re not completed yet,” Middwood stated. As a group, Harry, Hermione and Ron turned toward the double doors leading from the nursery and saw a number of Death Eaters standing there. Harry was impressed, whereas there had been a large number of mistakes with Middwood’s rendition of Voldemort, he was spot on with these Death Eaters.
Middwood pushed past Harry and walked up the group of mannequin Death Eaters. He quickly inspected the group before his eyes where drawn to the nursery, which was now in flames.
“What the hell happened to my ride?” Middwood exclaimed.
The Death Eater in the front turned its attention to upset wizard and asked in a cold and feminine voice: “So this atrocity is your doing?” She then raised her wand and pointed it at Middwood and shouted “CRUCIO!”
Middwood collapsed to the floor screaming. Before Harry could react, four more Death Eaters shouted “CRUCIO!” and four people in the shop, including Ron, fell to the floor screaming in agony. Harry froze temporarily as he saw his best friend writhe on the ground.
“Does wee-baby Potter not like seeing people get hurt?” the Death Eater in the front asked in an all too familiar sickly childish voice.
“Bellatrix,” muttered Harry. He tried to quickly count how many Death Eaters – because these Death Eaters appeared to be real and not mannequins -he was up against but lost count after he had gotten to twenty.
However, Hermione – being the studious witch she was – hadn’t lost count and announced to Harry: “There are thirty-eight of them.”
The screaming stopped suddenly when Bellatrix signaled to her brethren.
“I felt complied to destroy that thing you had made!” Bellatrix said to the convulsing Middwood at her feet. “You should consider yourself lucky that the Dark Lord didn’t know this was here. If he did know of this place… well… you would be begging for a quick death.”
Bellatrix raised her attention to Harry and Hermione. “I heard something truly fascinating a few hours ago…” she began and paused as she noticed Ron who was trying to stand back up. “Ah… I recognize this one. He’s one of your little friends who stopped us from retrieving the prophesy for our master.”
The evil witch whipped her wand at Ron and shouted “CRUCIO!” once more. Ron screamed and crashed back to the floor.
“Stop it you bitch!” Harry shouted.
Lifting the curse, Bellatrix said “Such sweet words, flattery will get you nothing though.”
Kneeling next to Ron, Hermione checked on his still form. “He’s unconscious,” she informed.
“Back to what I was saying,” Bellatrix continued. “My master heard that wee-baby Potter’s power has gone all /’wonky’/. And he decided to end this once and for all.”
Slowly, all thirty-eight Death Eaters pointed their wands at Harry. (Some of the Death Eaters in the back had on to stand on their toes and did their best to aim in Harry’s general direction, while some of the shorter ones where complaining that they couldn’t see where he was. But you get the point.)
From her kneeling position, Hermione reached up and held Harry’s left hand. Harry locked eyes with his girlfriend and Hermione mouthed the words “I love you” to him. With a sense of love and affection filling Harry’s heart, he whipped out his wand and shouted “STUPEFY!”
Harry could see Bellatrix’s eyes bulge as a huge red crescent-shaped arch erupted from Harry’s wand and flew in her direction. Unfortunately for Harry, Bellatrix, along with seven of her fellow Death Eaters, had the common sense to duck as the super-charged Stunner came flying at them. A few of the others actually had quick enough reflexes to cast a Shield Charm, though it didn’t do them any good.
The glowing red arch sliced through the remaining Death Eaters like a hot knife through butter. The few Death Eaters who had cast a Shield Charm seemed quite surprised when their Shields were shattered; that is they seemed to be quite surprised right before they were knocked unconscious.
It was at this point that the innocent – and not so innocent concerning Joseph Middwood – bystanders decided to leave the gift shop. Of course they weren’t leaving in a calm and orderly fashion. No, they were running in every direction which caused some problems. Some of them thought it would be best to head straight to the exit while others thought it would be speedier to actually run through a solid wall. Still others believed that it was in everyone’s best interest to run directly into another person attempting to flee while screaming “My God, my God, we’re all going to die!”
“I thought he was supposed to be powerless,” one of the Death Eaters complained as he dodged a pack of panicky bystanders.
“I’m going to kill that filthy elf!” Bellatrix shouted right before Mr. Cummings crashed into her, sending both of them to the floor.
There were too many people around for Harry to launch another Stunner; he was afraid his super-charged charm may actually harm an innocent. Either by causing them to fall, thereby injuring themselves, or by Stunning them with so much power that they could possibly suffer dire consequences, much like how McGonagall nearly died during his fifth year.
The Death Eaters had no such limitation. Six of the conscious Death Eaters began firing off various hexes and curses in Harry’s general direction. Fortunately for Harry, none of the spells hit him; instead, many of the witches and wizards who were running around in a panic were struck. A dull grey bolt hit a witch who was running to the door causing her hair to catch fire. One wizard was struck with an orange flame and was flung painfully into a nearby wall.
Harry realized that even if he didn’t try to stop the Death Eaters for fear of harming innocents, those same innocents were being harmed. He focused on his loving memories of Hermione and quickly knelt down and waved his wand a few inches over the floor before shouting the incantation for the Trip Jinx: “Lapso Accido!”
It was if everyone in the room – save for Harry and his friends – were tenpins and had been hit by some giant invisible bowling ball. They were all, Death Eaters and bystanders alike, flipped up into the air; the flipping action causing all of the various robes to fall around their shoulders and thereby exposing their undergarments. Harry’s vision was assaulted by the sight of brightly colored bloomers and dull grey boxers as the airborne victims of his super-Tripping Jinx crashed back to the floor. Unfortunately, one Death Eater had apparently decided to go “commando” so to speak and not wear any unmentionables. And to Harry’s horror, that Death Eater was Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry normally wouldn’t be horrified at seeing a woman’s naked groin, but besides going “commando”/, Bellatrix also apparently favored an extreme look as well. /”Au natural” didn’t begin to cover it. The evil witch was unusually, nay ridiculously hairy and the sight made the bespectacled wizard gag.
The frightening scene reminded Harry of Sirius’ disheveled and unkempt appearance the first time he saw godfather. Sirius’ stay in Azkaban had left him in a state unfit for civilized society. But even a long (and extremely justified) internment in the hellish wizading prison could not explain Bellatrix’s excessively hairy state. There was just so much hair, it couldn’t be natural! It hung in long, matted tangles from her groin and it crept down her legs as if it was consuming her flesh.
Harry’s terror filled mind scrambled trying to find an explanation for Bellatrix’s shaggy muff. One potential explanation was that she was the victim of a very powerful Hair Growing Hex of some kind. Another, more terrifying reason that came to Harry’s mind was that it was actually an overly furry creature that had attached itself to Bellatrix’s bits in some sort of sickening symbiotic relationship.
This second possibility was given more credence in Harry’s eyes when he saw one of the tangled locks that hung from her crotch begin to move. The hairy appendage seemed to undulate in a different and unique way; totally alien when compared to its fuzzy counterparts. The unique tangled… thing was moving as if it had a will of its own and was acting accordingly.
“I’m going to be ill,” Hermione muttered as she too saw Bellatrix’s overly shaggy bits. “A pack of flobberworms could nest in there it’s so matted.”
It was at this unfortunate time that Ron regained consciousness. “That’s just not right,” the red head groaned upon seeing Bellaxtrix’s nakedness. “You could braid that mess, couldn’t you?”
“My god,” Hermione continued, the raw fear in her voice evident to everyone. “Are… are those bits of hay and straw sticking out?”
“More than likely,” explained Harry, desperately trying not to acknowledge the image being forced into his nightmares. “I think… I think its hungry…”
Forcing the terrifying image of Bellatrix’s “//Forbidden/ //Forest//”/ out of his mind, Harry knew he could now take care of the disorganized Death Eaters, but he had to make sure that no innocents got back up and into the line of fire again. So, in his best booming voice, Harry commanded: “EVERYBODY STAY DOWN!”
“Does that mean us, too?” Harry heard a Death Eater ask.
“NO, IT DOESN’T!” screamed Bellatrix while she stood and – thankfully – covered herself. “Kill Potter!”
Ron rolled onto his side and launched a Stunner at the Death Eater to Bellatrix’s right and the masked fiend fell to the floor. With a swish of her wand, Hermione conjured a thick robe that wound itself around another villain. Taking his girlfriend’s lead, Harry tapped into his love based magic again and attempted to conjure a thick rope that would bind another Death Eater. But Harry didn’t conjure a rope that wrapped itself abound a bad guy; instead he conjured a chain and it wrapped itself around three Death Eaters. It wasn’t a simple chain by any means either; it appeared to be the type of chain that is attached to an anchor for a cruise ship. Each link looked like it weighed as much as two men.
“Ooff,” one of the bound Death Eaters moaned pitifully under Harry’s chain. “This is really heavy…”
“Reducto!” screamed Bellatrix and the ground in front of Ron exploded. The blast sent Ron, Harry and Hermione into the air. Ron crashed into the wall and fell to the floor in a heap, Hermione landed behind the counter supporting the cash till, and Harry hit the wall of tasteless and tacky pullovers. When his body hit the wall, a majority of the novelty shirts were knocked off of their pegs and ended up burying him.
As Harry tried to dig himself out of the mountain of pullovers, he heard Bellatrix command her fellow Death Eaters to revive their fallen comrades. “Wake them up!” she barked.
The two Death Eaters quickly performed several Re-enervate Charms. As Harry poked his head out of the mountain of novelty shirts, he saw the Death Eater that Ron had Stunned stand up. He also saw Ron was unconscious, slumped against the far wall with blood seeping out of a gash on his forehead. Harry then saw that Hermione was using the check-out counter as a shield.
“Bellatrix, we can’t Re-enervate the ones Potter Stunned,” one of the Death Eaters informed their leader as another busied himself by banishing the ropes Hermione had conjured. Harry noted that they couldn’t banish the chains that he had created.
“Damn that house-elf!” cursed Bellatrix. “He told us Potter was powerless!”
Harry wondered what she was talking about for a moment before the realization hit him. She had to be referring to Kreacher. Harry had told both Doby and Kreacher that his power had gone “all wonky” and that he couldn’t conjure anything properly. ‘But how would the little shite have been able to communicate to…’ Harry thought, only to have his memory supply the answer. ‘I told them to leave. Kreacher must’ve decided that the order meant for him to leave the castle. And of course the bastard would’ve immediately scurried off to his more favored masters and promptly told them that I was powerless.’
“I was going to give him his wish and chop off his head and mount it,” Bellatrix continued to complain. “But for now, I’ll make his life a living hell until I get what’s rightfully mine; the Most Noble House of Black’s ancestral home.”
“Didn’t you know that’s my house now?” Harry shouted still half hidden under the pile of pullovers. He saw Bellatrix look around frantically trying to find him; apparently she hadn’t seen where he landed. “Does it bother you that number twelve is now owned by a half-blood?” Harry continued to taunt. He could see the rage build up in Bellatrix’s face. “Maybe I should live there.”
“Yes, and does it bother you that the halfblood will be shagging his mudblood girlfriend there as well!” added Hermione. A well of hope and a touch of lust sprung up in Harry’s heart at Hermione’s statement. Even though she was taunting Bellatrix, Hermione had mentioned having sex with Harry! She had used rather crude language but as Harry had discovered earlier, he found “Dirty – Talking Hermione” a bit of a turn on.
“His girlfriend?” Harry heard of the masked Death Eater asked. “But I thought he was a poof and that he fancied Draco?”
Resolving to deal with the aftereffects of both that damned /Daily Prophet/ article and the traitorous house-elf later, Harry jumped out of the pile of pullovers and launched a super-Stunner at the five remaining Death Eaters. Regrettably for Harry, Bellatrix and the same two Death Eaters who had ducked his Stunner before ducked again. The recently revived and the recently unbound Death Eaters both muttered “oh, bugger,” an instant before the red arch struck them in the chest, sending them both off to slumber-land.
“Disarm him now!” barked Bellatrix before Harry could launch another Stunner.
“Expelliarmus!” shouted Bellatrix and the two remaining Death Eaters in unison. Harry felt as if a bludger had hit his hand. Not only did his wand go flying out of his grasp, he also felt one of his fingers break as he was struck with three powerful Disarming Spells.
“Stupefy!” Hermione shouted and one of the Death Eaters collapsed to the floor. She dodged back behind the counter before Bellatrix and her remaining thug could counterattack.
“Don’t bother with Walker,” commanded Bellatrix, indicating the fallen Death Eater. “Kill the girl; I’ll take care of Potter!”
While cradling his injured hand, Harry looked around desperately for his wand. He was of no help to anyone without it.
As the unknown Death Eater stalked toward the counter, Bellatrix pointed her wand at Harry and shouted: “Locomotor Mortis!”
Harry’s legs locked together and he started to fall. He tried to lessen the fall by bracing his hands in front of him, but this only led to further injuring his broken finger. Harry suppressed a groan as saw his twisted digit which was already turning a nasty blue color.
“I’m going to enjoy watching wee baby Potter cry for his mama,” Bellatrix taunted in her sickly baby voice. Harry looked past his tormentor and saw that the Death Eater was very close to where Hermione was hiding.
Hermione whipped herself from behind the counter and pushed the large barrel that contained hundreds of “/glowing/ baby Harry” figurines over, spilling its contents on the ground. Before the Death Eater could react, Hermione rapidly cast a series of Banishing Charms on the figurines, sending them at her attacker. The Death Eater cried out as dozens of “glowing baby Harry” figurines pelted his face and body.
“OW! OW! OW!” he cried as his white mask was shattered.
“Stop your whining and kill her!” Bellatrix ordered in an annoyed tone.
“But it hurts!” the Death Eater complained. He turned his head away from the onslaught of flying figurines and Harry saw that one of his eyes was already black and blood was dripping from his nose. The Death Eater cried out in agony and whipped his body around. Harry was quite taken back to see a figurine had been thoroughly shoved into the villain’s ear. He desperately tried to pull the little plastic toy out of his ear canal as Hermione continued to send the figurines pelting into his back. Suddenly, the Death Eater screamed in utter pain, and began to hop around while clutching his backside. “OW! OW! OW!”
“What is the matter now?” demanded Bellatrix.
“It’s in the ouchy area!” the Death Eater cried out while pointing frantically toward his bum. “GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT!”
Thankfully for the Death Eater, the pain of having a small plastic toy forcibly shoved up his bum was replaced with the sweet oblivion that came to one when a large wooden barrel was smashed into his head. Apparently, Hermione had run out of “glowing baby Harry”‘s so she decided to use the barrel that housed them as a projectile and Banished it at her attacker’s head. As the Death Eater crumpled to the ground, Harry noticed that a good deal of his robes seemed to be wedged firmly in his arse.
Hermione quickly leveled her wand at Bellatrix but it was too late. “Expelliarmus!” shouted Bellatrix and Hermione’s wand flew from her grasp. Hermione gasped as Bellatrix began to walk toward her. “I think I will play with you while wee baby Potter watches.”
Harry frantically dragged himself across the floor. The villainess stood in front of Hermione and raised her wand so that it was pointing at the younger witch’s heart. Harry tore at the ground, causing his broken finger to twist more, as he propelled himself at Bellatrix. He realized that without his wand he was powerless because he didn’t know any wandless magic. And because of his injured hand and the fact that his legs were rendered useless due to the Leg Locker Hex all that he could do was paw at Bellatrix’s back.
“You’re going to suffer, mudblood,” sneered Bellatrix, pointing her wand at Hermione. Harry had finally caught up with Bellatrix and with his one good hand, tried to pull the witch away from Hermione. “And your worthless half-blood boyfriend can do nothing to stop me besides fondling my back…”
Then a sudden thought hit Harry: he did know wandless magic!
“… Why are you doing that? It’s really annoying!” commented Bellatrix off-handedly to Harry, as he continued to paw at her back. Harry was oblivious to her comments; he was lost in his own thoughts as he tried to force himself to tap into his core. It was extremely hard to access anything love based when dealing with Bellatrix. He had to fight to prevent his memory from calling up the image of Bellatrix without her robe. It’s hard to do wandless magic when one is on the verge of vomiting.
Harry decided to focus his memory on the techniques described in the section from his ‘special book’ concerning /’Pleasure Pressure Points’/.
“… You do realize that I’m a married woman, don’t you?”
Harry remembered that one of the more potent points was located on the small of the back. It would actually produce an orgasm in the witch if performed properly.
“… Even if I wasn’t, you’re far too young a boy for my taste…”
But Harry realized that just a simple orgasm wouldn’t be enough to stop Bellatrix from harming Hermione. He had to give her such an orgasm that it would knock her out.
“… Is this how he treats you?” Bellatrix asked Hermione. “Because if it is, I truly pity you… he couldn’t pleasure a three-Sickle whore…”
Pushing aside his fear, Harry focused on Hermione and how much he loved her. It help when the memory of a naked, moist, and very satisfied Hermione spread out in front of him entered his mind.
“Oh, well, back to the task at hand,” stated Bellatrix nonchalantly. “This will hurt you more than it does me… /CRUCI/-”
Bellatrix froze in mid-incantation as Harry forced his powerful love-based magic into her body through one of the more powerful pleasure points.
“Oh!” Bellatrix muttered as she dropped her wand. Harry could feel the muscles in her back tense up before she said once more “Oh!”
She arched her back almost painfully and shouted “OH!” at the top of her lungs before falling backwards – onto Harry mind you. Once she crashed onto Harry’s back, she began to thrash and buck on top of him. Her arms and legs flayed this way and that. Needless to say, all the thrashing and limb flaying, Harry got thoroughly pummeled.
“OH! OH! OH! OH! OH!” Bellatrix continued to scream as she unknowingly beat the hell out of Harry. The young wizard attempted to move her off of him, but somehow, all he managed to do was to roll himself over while Bellatrix stayed on top of him. This made matters worse for Harry, instead of getting his back beaten up, now his front was getting smacked, elbowed, head butted, and kneed.
“Harry, are you okay?” a concerned Hermione asked as she witnessed the spectacle in front of her.
“OW – Her – OW -mi – OW -o – OW – nee -OW!” cried Harry as the evil witch continued to unintentionally beat him up as she rode her mind melting orgasm on top of him. “OW – get – OW – her – OW – off – OW – of – OW – me!”
Hermione scurried to where her wand had landed and quickly performed a levitation spell on Bellatrix. The evil witch’s body rose gently into the air as she was still being rocked by the orgasm.
“HARRY!” shouted Hermione as she dashed at him. “Oh, goodness, are you alright?”
“OH!” Bellatrix shouted again.
“I’ve been better,” acknowledged Harry. He could actually feel the bruises developing all over his body. In particular, ‘Harry, Jr.”s baggage had taken a particularly nasty blow.
“OH!” Bellatrix shouted again, this time somewhat softer.
“Oh god, your hand!” cried out Hermione as she saw his broken and twisted finger. She gently scooped up his injured hand and cradled it. “You poor baby!”
Bellatrix moaned out a soft, barely audible “Oh!” and bucked her hips again.
“I’ve broken worse,” Harry admitted. Although his digit did hurt like hell, his bits were his main concern. All he wanted to do was to curl up in a corner in the fetal position and cry like a little boy.
Bellatrix thrashed again and began to foam at the mouth.
“Oh, Merlin… it was horrible…” Ron groaned out as he regained consciousness.
A disgusting gurgling noise came from Bellatrix as she bucked again.
“Oh, sweetie, I wish I could make it better,” Hermione cooed to Harry as tears filled her eyes. She gently kissed his broken finger while Bellatrix jerked again and spat out some of the foam from her mouth.
“I thought I was a goner for a minute back there…” Ron muttered as he forced himself to speak. Even though he wasn’t a healer, Harry could tell by the look in Ron’s eyes and the way he was speaking that he must have a bad concussion. “There was so… so much… so much hair! I’ve seen Seamus in the shower and he’s hairier than a Yeti… but he doesn’t have anything on Bellatrix!”
Bellatrix’s eyes rolled up into her head and she let out one final groan before losing consciousness. Harry noted that she had a ridiculously satisfied grin plastered on her face.
“We need to get you two back to the Castle so Madam Pomphrey can heal both of you,” stated Hermione. She helped Harry stand and they hobbled for a bit toward Ron when Harry remembered his wand.
“Hermione, I need my wand,” he moaned, hunched over while cupping his bits with his left hand and holding his injured right in the air.
“Accio Harry’s wand!” commanded Hermione and his wand soared through the air and into her hand. Hermione fumbled for a bit trying to stash Harry’s wand in her robes when Ron groaned:
“Look out, one of them is moving.” Ron weakly pointed at the Death Eater who was slowly rising to his feet. Harry recognized the Death Eater as the one who still had a “glowing baby Harry” wedged firmly in his ear and up his bottom. The pitiful wretch winced in pain as he tried to step toward the exit.
“Stop him,” Harry requested. Hermione attempted to aim her wand at the slowly retreating villain, but couldn’t do it properly seeing how she was holding Harry up. As gently as she could, she lowered Harry to the floor so that he was lying next to Ron.
Apparently, the Death Eater with the impromptu bum-plug realized that he couldn’t run away and had decided to attempt to Apparate away. With a loud pop, the Death Eater disappeared… well mostly disappeared that is to say. It seemed to Harry that having two foreign objects forcibly shoved in several orifices would cause some distraction. And apparently, this distraction led to a major case of splinching. The tormented fellow had accidentally left one of his legs behind as he Apparated away.
“Ow,” Ron murmured as the disembodied limb fell to the floor. “That must hurt.”
“Well, no reason to go after him,” concluded Hermione and she tapped her wand on a pullover that had fallen in front of Ron and muttered “Portus.”
Before the trio left the remnants of the gift shop Harry could hear Ron murmur “the horror… all that hair… the horror…”

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Chapter Thirty Four: And the Walls Come Crumbling Down
Standard Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all characters are property of J K Rowling, Warner Brothers, Bloomsbury Books, Arthur A. Levine Books, Raincoast Books, Scholastic publishing (et al.) and are used without permission. This work was written purely for noncommercial entertainment; no money is being made.
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 Four: It’s time for Harry to face his destiny!
With an ache in both his lower back and ‘/Harry, Jr.’/, Harry blinked his eyes. Stiff and sore, he slowly sat up.
“It’s about time you woke up,” Hermione greeted him.
“What time is it?”
“Nearly supper.”
“Damn. I must’ve been knackered.”
“Ejaculating fourteen times will have that effect.”
“I guess that would explain why I’m so sore down there,” he commented and then asked, “Did you really keep count?”
“Of course I did,” she said, sitting on the bed next to him. A warm smile graced her lips. “You’re my virile wizard. Even with the aid of potions, you were amazing.”
“Amazing was I?”
“It was definitely one for the history books.”
The pride Harry had felt before falling into unconsciousness returned with gusto. He felt his face heat up and a wide grin stretched across his face.
“Where are your two counterparts?” he asked, vainly trying to quell his smile.
“One’s already used the Time Turner to go back to last night, the other one is in the library waiting for her turn to go back,” she said. The brunette leaned forward and placed a quick peck on his lips. “I’ll fetch you some food.”
She leapt up and walked across the room. As she walked, Harry eyed her wonderful bum as it swayed back and forth. Cocking an eyebrow, Harry looked down to ‘/Harry, Jr.’/, silently asking of it was up for another go. After all, Hermione’s bottom just begged for a repeat performance. The organ replied “/Sod off. I’m bloody tired!”/ Normally, ‘/Harry, Jr.’/ would be ready and willing to play with Hermione, but cumming fourteen times in one night had earned the penis some rest.
Hermione returned with a plate full of fruits. She took her place next to her lover and brought a strawberry up to his lips. After he ate that piece, Hermione presented him a slice of pineapple. As his girlfriend continued to feed him, the door banged open and Courtney came barging into the room.
“Blow – Jobs – Are – The – BEST!” she announced in no uncertain terms. She then crinkled her nose, smelling the air, and stated “Cor, it smells like sex in here. Did I miss another show?”
“Harry came fourteen times,” Hermione said, beaming with pride over her boyfriend’s achievement.
“Blimey, that’s a lot of spunk,” Courtney said, nodding her head in approval. “I don’t think even the House-Elves could clean that much cum out of the sheets. You’ll probably have to burn them.
“Of course Draco was no slouch either.” She held up her hand and extended all five fingers. “Twice for me and three times for you, Harry.”
A sudden urge to run far, far away popped up in Harry’s mind. Courtney was encroaching upon a subject that made the young wizard nervous and nauseous, to say the least.
“That’s… all we want to hear about that,” Hermione said, hoping to end Courtney’s recollection.
“Aw, you’re no fun,” the Auror pouted. “But I have to tell you, Hermione: you MUST grow a penis and have someone give you a blow-job. Abso-/bloody/-lutely fantastic!”
“I’m not sucking dick,” Harry announced.
“Not even if it was mine?” Hermione asked, playfully. Or at least Harry hoped it was playful. He prayed that his lover wasn’t that kinky.
“Hell no,” he said with finality.
“You two are so weird,” Courtney said with a chuckle. “It’s funny how that even though you’re so kinky and wild that some things still make you queasy.”
“Without going into any details, /please/, I take it Draco was into the act and therefore the glass ball I gave you is fully charged?” asked Hermione.
“Oh Merlin yes! I though he was going to burst when I began—”
“I’m sorry Courtney but I can’t bear any details about your… /adventure/,” Hermione spoke up. “I know you’re into him, but Draco just gives me the creeps. It’s difficult for me to even understand why anyone would be into someone like Draco.”
“Oh, bother,” lamented Courtney. She pulled the glass ball that Hermione had given her the night before, and offered it to the other witch. “If I can’t share my bi-wonder experience with you two, then I guess I’ll just have to share with Tonks. She’d appreciate it.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, really I am,” said Hermione, taking the ball from Courtney and carefully setting it down on the tabletop. The magical construct was now filled with burning red and orange lights, swirling around in the glass. “I just don’t want to hear any sentence that contains the word‘/Draco’/ and ‘/penis’/. It’s a standard that I must hold to.”
“I completely agree,” said Harry.
“Well, then you’ll be pleased to know that Draco discovered that it was actually me and not Harry, after the fact. And by ‘/fact’/ I mean plentiful amounts of wet, dirty sex. I reckoned you two didn’t want him thinking that Harry just popped over for hummers and buggering,” she said.
“Thank you,” Harry said. A great weight had lifted– a part of him feared that Draco would approach him in the halls and ask for another tumble.
“But you really have to experience a blow-job, Hermione,” repeated Courtney. “It’s imperative!”
“I’m not sucking a dick,” Harry reiterated.
“Me, I’ll do anything at least once as long as it won’t leave a mark. Well, not a lasting mark, anyway,” Courtney bragged. “Or scat; I won’t do that.”
“Maybe we should introduce you to a ghost we know,” offered Harry.
“Yes, I think he’d love you,” Hermione said. “Except for the lack of scat bit.”
“Really? I’ve heard some strange rumors about a perverted ghost lurking around the castle.” Courtney was clearly curious and intrigued by this unnamed mystery ghost.
“Pardon me, but my ears are burning,” the ghost in question said, as he made himself visible. “Is someone talking about me behind my back?”
Harry was fairly certain that Gryffindor had been hiding, unseen, in the room for some time. The young wizard even speculated that there was a slight chance the ghost was there when he and Hermione had their Time Turner/Polyjuice foursome. The only issue that cast doubt on this speculation was that Gryffindor would’ve given tips and pointers, if not offering outright to join in by saying something as uncouth as “Is there room for another willy in that jumbled mass of limbs and orifices?” while Harry and the three versions of Hermione went at it.
“Godric Gryffindor, this is Courtney,” Hermione said, introducing the pair.
“Hello there, my pretty,” Gryffindor said with his ever-present deviant grin. “Did I hear you right when you said you’d try anything?”
“Except scat,” the Auror said without shame. “Or anything that involves urine and/or vomit, as well.”
“Have you ever heard of something called a ‘/Train/,’” the ghost said, draping his arm over Courtney’s shoulders, leading her out of the Head Boy and Girl’s chambers.
Courtney cheered “I get to be the caboose.”
With that, the ghost and the Auror left the Head Boy and Girl, discussing various positions, acts and household cleaners that doubled as good lubrication.
“Did you introduce Courtney to Gryffindor so that you’d get him off of our backs?” asked Harry.
“Of course,” Hermione replied. “I figured that Courtney and Draco could entertain Gryffindor for a while. Hopefully longer than Mrs. Black’s portrait did anyway.”
“Good, because if you hadn’t introduced them, I was going to for the very same reason.”
Hermione held up the glass ball containing the sexual energy collected from Courtney and Draco’s romp. “All we need to do now is tap into this with our ritual to help Snape in convincing Voldemort. Once the ritual is done and the effect is primed, we’ll have to send Snape a coded post telling both the plan and the activation of the delayed ritual.”
Harry felt an icy lump drop in the pit of his stomach as Hermione began drawing runes in chalk on the floor. He gulped in dread at the thought of his looming task. The three-Hermiones from the night before had done a wonderful job of distracting him from his destiny (and just as importantly from the mental images of what Courtney was doing to Draco with a polyjuiced copy of ‘Harry, Jr.’ at that time). But now Hermione was getting ready to use the container of sexual energy to perform the special ritual – the one designed to induce Voldemort to be more viable and accepting of a suggestion, thereby entering their trap – the terrifying knowledge of the dire predicament Harry faced returned in full force. In a scant few days, Harry would have to face off against Voldemort, the most feared wizard of the age.
SoG SoG SoG
The following Wednesday, shortly after supper, Harry, Hermione, Ron and Luna were enjoying each other’s company in the Head Boy and Girl’s Chambers. The young wizards were playing a less than quiet game of Exploding Snap, while the witches were discussing potential rituals for future volumes of /Books of Love Magic/.
“I thought up a delicious new one last night. It’s not a ritual per se, but I think it will be very well received regardless,” Luna announced. “I call it ‘Dramamine for Magical Folk.’ You know how some people absolutely loathe traveling by Floo, Portkey or Apparation? Well, I thought of something that will help ease their minds: oral sex. They get fellatio or cunnilingus right before they travel!”
Harry pondered over Luna’s idea. He counted himself as one of the people who did not like traveling through magical means: the spinning of Floo, the hook and tug of Portkey, and the squeezing through a rubber hose of Apparation always made him queasy… and fall down. He reckoned receiving a blow-job right before he used any of these methods would in fact ease his mind. He realized that it wouldn’t prevent him from falling down; he just wouldn’t care if he did. Blow-jobs had that effect on a bloke.
“Sounds like a good idea,” he said while Ron nodded his head in approval.
“The only reason you it is like because you’d agree to anything if it meant you got more blow-jobs,” Hermione said with a snort.
After a moment of contemplation, the raven-haired wizard replied;“Yeah, I would.” Ron nodded his head in agreement, again.
The brunette mused for a moment before saying, “Perhaps we could have a section in the next book on various non-magical acts.” She chewed her lip, clearly deep in thought, before adding, “Thinking along the lines of Luna’s suggestion, maybe for long distance Floo travel, a couple could perform oral sex during their extended trip.”
“And we could call it ‘/Floo Head,’”/suggested Harry.
“That’s the spirit!” cheered Luna as Harry’s mind wandered to the glorious image of Hermione on her knees before him as the two spun from one fireplace to another just as his lover had described.
Returning to the subject of actual rituals, Hermione said “I came up with a new ritual last night. It’s an Anti-Fire Ward.”
“Didn’t we make one for the last book?” asked Ron.
“Yes, but you can never be too safe when it comes to fire danger,” Hermione replied. “Like the previous Anti-Fire Ward, this one will protect the home from fire, whether caused by nature, accident or attack. But, unlike the first ward, this one needs to be performed by two couples.”
“/A foursome!/ Oh, Hermione, I thought you’d never agree!” Luna said exuberantly. She clapped her hands rhythmically, chanting, “Partner swap! We finally get to partner swap! Harry, get over here right now and give me some of that Parsletongue love!”
Hermione blanched. Harry suppressed a chuckle over his girlfriend’s reaction – she wasn’t upset over the notion that Luna had just made overt sexual advances on her boyfriend, but rather if they were to partner swap, then she would have to be with Ron. And the mere thought of being intimate with the orangutan-like wizard made the brunette queasy.
“No, no, no, no, /Good Heavens, no/,” Hermione said rapidly, keeping her line of sight as far away from Ron as possible. “The ritual I created requires that Harry paddle me while I’m gagged with a red-rubber ball and tied up with red scarves, while you sit on a chair nearby and Ron masturbates into your hair.”
“Oh, poo,” moaned Luna. “I really want a foursome.”
“That’s not going to happen. /Ever/,” Hermione said, evenly. “The red of the ball-gag and scarves represent fire. Harry’s paddle represents a punishment of that fire. And Ron’s semen will represent a liquid based fire-retardant,” explained Hermione. “Once I orgasm, the ward will activate and the home will be protected from fire.”
“What would I do during this ritual?” asked Luna.
“You don’t have to do a thing. You just sit there while Ron wanks himself in your hair,” replied Hermione.
“That’s rather dull isn’t it? Can’t Igive him head or lend a hand in his wanking?”
“No, I’m sorry. According to my calculations, Ron must be the only one to touch himself for this ritual to work properly.”
“Curses,” Luna pouted.
“Maybe we can change it so Ron doesn’t have to wank in your hair?” offered Harry.
“No, that’s not the problem. I don’t mind my Ronald masturbating on me – he does it all the time and I’ve grown quite fond of it. But if I am just to sit there, I wouldn’t feel that I’m participating in the ritual. No different than a Brooding Craft Snark so to speak. And as everyone knows; a Brooding Craft Snark does absolutely nothing.”
“Can she read something?” Harry asked Hermione. “Would that affect the ritual?”
“Oh, that’s brilliant Harry! I can read German poetry aloud while Ronald masturbates into my hair!” cheered Luna.
“You know German?” he asked.
“Not a lick,” Luna said, still jubilant over the notion. “I just like how the guttural sound of the language makes my throat and tongue tickle.”
Just then, a large owl with shinny, gleaming silver wings flew in through the open window.
“What a beautiful owl,” Hermione said, eyeing the now-perched bird.
“It’s called a Segue Owl,” informed Luna.
“/Segue/? Why is it called that?”
“I don’t know,” the blonde replied dreamily. “But it’s got a post attached to its leg.”
“It must be Snape’s reply!” Harry said, quickly picking up on the new subject. Dashing up to the exotic bird, Harry untied the post attached to its leg. After delivering the message, the silver owl flapped its wings and flew back out the window.
“Let me decode it,” Hermione said. Several minutes later, the brunette read the decrypted post aloud.
“‘Even though I believe your plan to be flawed and recklessly dangerous, it remains, unfortunately, the best chance at defeating the Dark Lord. I have used my superior logic and cunning to convince the Dark Lord to attack Hogwarts by entering through the Chamber of Secrets as you suggested. My skilful approach was able to persuade the Dark Lord that this was his opportune means to devastate the wizarding population and to get rid of Potter, whom for some reason He views as a threat.
“‘The Dark Lord was uncharacteristically keen – I might even argue that he was exuberant – over my persuasive urgings of the notion of attacking the castle. Personally, I think that the Dark Lord’s excessive reaction to my subtle skill is that He is still despondent over his loss of Bellatrix to her current insensate state. However, I did follow your inane instructions in that prior to approaching the Dark Lord, I did the proscribed insipid wand waving and intonation. But the truth of the matter is that my methods are what worked here. Not some schoolgirl’s imaginary ritual.’
“My ritual worked! It helped Snape convince Voldemort,” cheered Hermione before she read the conclusion of Snape’s post. “‘Unfortunately, the Dark Lord is so excited over the plan that He has decided to launch the attack against the castle as soon as possible. He, along with myself and his remaining handful of minions, will Portkey into the Chamber of Secrets Thursday night shortly after Ten PM.’”
“Thursday!” exclaimed Ron. “But that’s tomorrow! He can’t attack tomorrow! That’s too bloody soon!”
“Doesn’t matter, we’ll have to deal with it,” Harry said, dismissing the dread that gnawed at his belly like a pack of rats on a piece of moldy cheese.
“I’ll talk to the House-Elves so that they can start evacuating people right away,” said Hermione.
“No, we should wait as long as possible – perhaps after supper tomorrow,” he said. “If we start emptying the castle too soon, Voldemort will definitely hear about it and will scrub his plans to attack. We’ll have to do it late tomorrow evening, no earlier than eight, maybe even after nine or so. That way there’ll be less of a chance of Voldemort discovering that it’s a trap.”
“What do we do until then?” asked Ron, nervously.
“I dunno, try and relax,” Harry said, doubting that such a thing was possible. The gravity of his impending destiny lay on his mind like a heavy lead weight. Even the thought of relaxing in light of this seemed like an alien concept.
“Let’s go back to our room, Ronald,” Luna said, taking her husband’s hand in hers. They left the Head Boy and Girl’s chambers without another word.
“I think I’m going to get sick,” Harry announced.
“It’s a good plan,” Hermione said, wrapping her arms around him. “It will work.”
He could hear the warble in her voice and her fear was a palpable thing. It was clear that even though Hermione was confident, she was terrified of the pending showdown.
Harry returned the embrace, silently telling his lover that he, too, was afraid. The two held onto each other, sharing in their fear in silence for a good long time. Needing to feel alive and loved, Harry took Hermione’s face into his hands and kissed her. A few moments later, the young lovers were in their bed.
There was no kinkiness this night; no spankings, nor dirty talk, just love. They looked into each other’s eyes, deep down into their souls as they made love. All of their fear and doubt had washed away, at least for the time being, in the light of their feelings for one another. There was, of course, oral sex. Harry and Hermione had become masters at cunnilingus and fellatio, respectively, and to not use these skills would have been a crying shame.
SoG SoG SoG
Harry thought he was doing quite well. By the time supper had arrived the next night, he had vomited only three times. This was a point of pride for the young wizard; in a few short hours he was going to face-off against the most fear dark wizard of his time and to be physically ill three times showed just how truly brave the young wizard was. Of course his hands trembled like a leaf in a storm, but that was excusable.
Oddly, even though Harry was the one destined to face-off against Voldemort, he was fairing better than his lover and friends. Hermione, Ron and Luna were complete wrecks. Hermione attempted to put up a brave face, but every half hour or so the thought of Harry confronting Voldemort would shattered her resolve and send the brunette witch into hysterical tears. Luna’s eyes were red from crying all day long whereas Ron was as white as a sheet. The red-head was so nervous that he had not eaten a bite all day long. And seeing how his stomach was a bottomless pit, this was very telling.
After supper that night, Harry, Hermione, Luna and Ron waited in the Head Boy and Girl’s Chamber for the clock to reach nine, when they would start evacuating the castle.
Harry went over the plan in his head and suddenly found a slight flaw. “Oh, /bugger/.”
“What is it?” Hermione, who was as nervous as a long-tail kneazle in a room full of rocking chairs, asked.
“We’re luring Voldemort into a trap in the Chamber,” Harry began as a chill descended upon his body. “What’s to stop him from escaping by Apparation or Portkey out of the Chamber before the trap is sprung?”
“If Snape destroys You Know Who’s Portkey as planned and you destroy the Horcrux quickly, he won’t have time to create another Portkey,” offered Luna with a noticeable warble trying to take a small bit of confidence from the rock-solid plan.
“And the school’s Anti-Apparation wards will stop them from Apparating,” Ron added just as nervously.
“Oh, /bugger/,” cursed Hermione and her face fell. “The Anti-Apparation Ward was created in the mid-1800’s. When they set up these wards around the school, they didn’t know the location of the Chamber – they probably didn’t even believe it truly existed. The Ward doesn’t extend past the dungeons – it says so in /Hogwarts: a History/. That means they don’t cover the Chamber!”
“That’s what I was worried about,” said Harry. “And knowing Voldemort, there’s a very good chance that he’ll probably have an extra Portkey hidden on his person just in case something goes wrong.”
“Why didn’t I think of this before?” wailed Hermione.
“Oh, I think I just peed myself,” mumbled Luna. The small bit of confidence she had shattered.
“This isn’t good,” Ron said with a squeak.
“Maybe… maybe we can erect Anti-Portkey and Anti-Apparation Wards before they get here?” Luna’s tone implied that she knew her logic was flawed but she was desperately attempting to salvage the plan.
“If we do that, then they won’t be able to Portkey into the Chamber and the trap won’t work,” Hermione pointed out.
“Maybe we could create the Anti-Portkey Ward after they show up,” suggested Ron, hoping to be helpful.
“Then I won’t be able to escape!” Harry’s record of vomiting only three times was about to increase by one.
Harry saw the tiny figure of Dobby shuffle out of the shadows. “Pardon Dobby, Harry Potter, sir, but’s perhaps Dobby can’s be helping.”
“How much have you heard, Dobby?” asked Harry.
“Enough’s to know you’s be wanting He Who Must Not Be Named to be coming into the Chamber of Secrets and you’s wants to be escaping from’s it buts you’s wants to keep He Who Must Not Be Named to be coming out’s.”
“That’s pretty much the gist of it,” Harry said.
“Dobby be knowing of a spells that the Ministree be using in Azkaban calling the Prison Ward. It’s be allowing people’s to enter by Apparation or’s Portkeys but they can’t be leaving if’s the ward doesn’t want’s them to. It only let’s one wizard or witch to be creating Portkeys that can leave’s through the Prison Ward. No one’s else’s Portkey will be working and they’s can’t be Apparating out either’s,” the House-Elf explained.
“There’s a spell that can allow people to enter an area magically but won’t let them leave if they don’t have aPortkey that isn’t made by the one person the ward recognizes,” Hermione clarified excitedly. “That’s wonderful! Do you know how to cast it, Dobby?”
“Normally’s, House-Elves not be knowing of such spelles, for House-Elves travel different from wizards and witches – we’s don’t be needing to know such things like the Prison Ward because wes House-Elves cans move through it likes other Anti-Apparation and Anti-Portkey wards,” Dobby explained. The House-Elf’s ears lowered and he wrung his hands guiltily before continuing. “But’s Dobby’s former bad Master, Lucy, made Dobby learns how to be casting the Prison Ward to keep Master Lucy’ special lady friend’s of the evening from escaping’s. Once Dobby be done casting the ward, Master Lucy be’s the only one’s making Portkeys so’s that Master Lucy’s special lady friend’s of the evening did’s their duty’s.” Dobby then added in an undertone, much like a child repeating a curse; “Mistress Narcy called Master Lucy’s special lady friend’s of the evening‘/nothing but dirty wars.’”/
“Dobby, can you cast this Prison Ward around the Chamber of Secrets and make it so that I’m the only one able to create a working Portkey?” asked Harry.
Dobby ears perked up and he nodded his head vigorously. The thought of aiding the Great Harry Potter sent the House-Elf to the heights of ecstasy. With tears of joy bubbling up in his eyes, he choked out; “Dobby thinks Dobby just peed himself.”
“It does have a nice warming effect, don’t you think?” Luna asked in her usual detached fashion.
”Dobby will cast the Prison Ward on the Chamber once Dobby changes Dobby’s trousers!” The House-Elf vanished with a pop.
Harry announced, “All right then, lets get this over with. You three go talk with the other House-Elves so they can get everyone out of the castle. I’ll go talk to McGonagall; as Headmistress, she deserves to know what’s going to happen.”
Harry marched out of his chambers and toward the Headmistress’ office. Being Head Boy, Harry knew the password, allowing him entrance passed the stone gargoyle. He knocked on McGonagall’s door and asked; “Professor, can I have a word with you?”
“Certainly, Mr. Potter. Come in,” she replied. When he entered, the witch inquired, “What is it that you’d like to discuss?’
Eyeing the portraits of the former Headmasters and Mistresses suspiciously, Harry said, “Could you order the portraits not to tell anyone – anyone at all – what I’m about to tell you?”
Clearly sensing his serious tone, McGonagall said to the paintings;“As current Headmistress of Hogwarts, I order that none of you shall, for any reason, speak a word of what will be said between me and Harry Potter until I release you from this command. Is that understood?”
All but Phineas Nigellus immediately voiced their vehement agreement. Sirius’ ancestor did agree not to repeat anything he heard, however his tone clearly told Harry that he was annoyed and put out by this order.
Pacing back and forth before McGonagall’s desk, Harry told her everything. He started out by telling her of the prophesy made before he was born that linked his and Voldemort’s destinies, and how that he was their only hope of defeating the evil wizard. He informed the Headmistress of Voldemort’s Horcruxes and the search and destruction of them. Harry finished by telling her that he had a plan that would not only destroy the last Horcrux but also defeat Voldemort without even dueling the most feared wizard of his time.
The Headmistress sat in stunned silence for nearly a full minute until she finally asked, “Couldn’t you create a magical brace, or even another column to replace the one you have to destroy in order to save the school?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I really, /really/don’t want to duel Voldemort,” admitted Harry. “Even though I’m strong because of power rituals, Voldemort’s still has decades more experience over me. He knows, and can do, things I can’t even imagine. If I duel him, I’m a dead man. And since, according to the prophesy, I’m the only person who has any chance of defeating him – if I die, no one can stop him.
“I love this school, it’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a home,” he explained. “But Voldemort is too much of a threat. Who knows how many people he will hurt and kill if he lives? If I can end Voldemort, I can save lives. But there’s no way I can beat him in a one-on-one fight – I’d be killed in seconds. If I destroy the Chamber of Secrets with him in it, then I’ll have ended his threat and saved countless lives. The only chance I have against him, the only chance anyone has, is if I destroy the school.”
McGonagall worried her lip, clearly weighing the school against saving lives. Obviously, the castle lost this debate. “Once Voldemort is gone, we’ll have to rebuild the castle.”
“Of course, ma’am.”
A soft pop announced Winky’s, the House-Elf, arrival in the Headmistress’ office. “It be time for Winky to be taking Heady Mack-gone-all to secret hiding place.”
“What? Now?” she asked stunned. “It’s happening tonight?”
“Sorry, I forgot to mention that,” muttered Harry guiltily.
“Can I at least walk the halls one last time before everything is destroyed?” requested the Headmistress.
“No’s, the Chosen One be wanting everybodies not One of the Mark outs of the castle right now,” Winky said, bolstered by her duty to Hermione. Before McGonagall could utter another word of protest, the House-Elf took her hand and the two disappeared with a pop.
Ignoring the trembling in his knees, Harry made his way to Moaning Myrtle’s loo. Besides his shaking knees, Harry paid no attention to the little nagging voice in his head that informed him that the only person to fight Voldemort and survive in a real duel was Dumbledore. The voice continued by pointing out that the times Harry had faced Voldemort, he had escaped by sheer luck or chance.
‘/It’s a good plan,’/ he told himself, hoping to drown out the nagging voice in his head. ‘If I stick to the plan, then I won’t have to fight an incredibly skilled and sadistic dueler who can kill me with two words.’
“What are you doing here?” he asked when he found Hermione, Ron, Luna and Dobby waiting for him outside the second story bathroom.
“I told the House-Elves to keep everyone in the cave and not to let anyone leave or send a message until after the castle falls, just in case any of them try and warn Voldemort or his followers,” Hermione, who had given up all pretense of hiding her fear, said. Tears were flowing freely down her sickly pale cheeks. The terrified warble in her voice reminded Harry of a sound that some kind of exotic bird living in the Rainforest might make.
“That’s all well and good, but it doesn’t explain why you’re here,” he repeated. “All of you should be in that cave along with everybody else.”
“We’re here to help you out,” Ron said. Like Hermione, Ron’s voice trembled and wavered, making him sound like an adolescent.
“No, you /are not/,” he said firmly.
“Harry, you need all the hel—” Hermione began to protest.
“No, I need you as far away from this as possible,” he interrupted. “I cannot do this if I’m worried that you, any of you, might get caught in the crossfire.”
“But Har—” began Ron.
“/But/ nothing. I have to get Snape out of there and I can’t worry about you at the same time!” The tone of Harry’s voice told everyone that his decision was final.
“Fine then, we’ll wait for you outside Hagrid’s hut,” Hermione said. Like Harry, the tone of her voice told everyone this was not a point to contest.
“All right then, let’s get this over with,” Harry said. He marched up to Hermione and crushed his lips to hers. He took as much comfort and courage from that kiss as he could.
“Come back to me,” she said when the kiss ended. Her eyes were shimmering with tears, fear, and hope.
“I will,” he said, hoping that fate would not make a liar out of him.
“Good luck,” said Ron, giving Harry a pat on the back.
“I’ll see you soon, Harry,” Luna said and kissed him on the cheek.
“Is the Prison Ward up?” he asked Dobby.
“Yes, Harry Potter, sir.” Dobby, who, like Hermione, was crying openly, wailed “Please, lets Dobby stay by yours side, Harry Potter, sir. Please. Dobby cans help Harry Potter.”
“No Dobby, I need you to keep an eye on my friends,” Harry said. “Make sure they stay safe for me.”
With his lip quivering, the House-Elf replied “Yes, Harry Potter, sir. Dobby wills make sure.”
Before stepping into the loo, Harry gave Hermione one last look and a lopsided smile, hoping to show her that he was brave and confident so she wouldn’t have to worry so much. The moment the door closed and he was out of sight of his lover and friends, Harry let the facade drop. His face and shoulders fell and he leaned against the door.
This was it: in a few moments’ time, Harry would open the entrance to the Chamber, slide down the tube, and face his destiny.
‘/Stick to the plan,’/ he repeated to himself. As he slowly walked to the faucet, those four words became a mantra. ‘/Stick to the plan.’/ The scenario played out in his head – Harry would make a Portkey, Voldemort and his minions would show up, Snape would run to Harry while Harry swung the Sword of Gryffindor at the pillar Horcrux, and then, as the roof collapsed, Harry and Snape would be whisked to safety via the Portkey. Simple and easy and difficult to muck up, the way all plans should be. ‘/Stick to the Plan.’/
He bent over the basin and spoke the word “/open/” in Parsletongue. The sink shrank away and a large hole appeared in the wall. Just before he stepped into the tube, Harry screwed up his courage.
After sliding down the tube, Harry made his way to the main chamber. He was so afraid that his hands were like ice. He began to worry if this impediment would hamper his ability to hold onto the Sword much less swing it at the column properly.
Upon entering the main, cavernous chamber, Harry eyed the Horcrux column and gulped down the burning bile that had been creeping up his throat. ‘/Stick to the plan.’/
He glanced at his watch. Nine forty-three. He had at least fifteen minutes before Voldemort and his minions were scheduled to arrive.
Taking another deep breath, Harry conjured a long branch – slightly over four feet – leaned it against the Horcrux column, tapped it with his wand and incanted “/Portus./” He wanted the Portkey as close as possible – he didn’t want to have to dive for it while the roof fell on top of his head. Now, he waited. Soon, he’d face Voldemort for the last time. One way or the other, it would be over tonight. If everything went according to plan, Harry and Snape would be safe and away while the so-called Dark Lord was crushed beneath tons of falling rock.
He paced back and forth, rubbing his hands together, hoping to chase away the chill that had settled in them. His mind wandered to Hermione and his friends. Surely they had gotten out of the castle and to Hagrid’s hut by now. The very first thing he planned on doing after this was all over was to run up to Hermione, take her in his arms and lavish her with kisses. That is, if every thing went according to planned and he got out of the Chamber alive.
Taking a calming breath, Harry repeated his mantra – this time aloud. “Stick to the plan.” Despite his confidence in the plan, his hands were still cold, bile still marched up his throat and his belly had clenched up into a tight little ball.
Checking the time again, Harry’s stomach tightened even more. It was nine forty-six. Only three minutes had passed. “This is going to be the longest quarter hour of my life,” he mumbled to himself. He just hoped it wouldn’t be the last.
Harry pulled out the Sword out of his robes. The heavy weight in his hands helped calm his nerves somewhat. The plan was sound. One swing of the Sword and it would be finished.
The minutes ticked by at an agonizingly slow rate. At one point Harry had wondered if his watch had stopped working. But it was just his anxiety that made time seem to slow down.
Then, with a series of loud whooshing sounds, over a dozen people appeared in the Chamber before Harry. At the front of this group was none other than Voldemort himself, flanked by Wormtail to his right and Snape to his left. Each of the new comers had a hold of a long length of rope, obviously the Portkey that had brought them here.
“Potter, what are you doing here?” demanded Voldemort. He was by no means stupid – Harry’s presence was not a coincidence. And he was smart enough to spot a trap when he saw one.
The villain quickly reached into his robes to draw his wand. Harry looked at Snape and shouted “/NOW!”/
Not knowing of the new Prison Ward prohibiting any Portkey besides Harry’s from working, Snape stuck to his part of the plan. The Potions Master tapped his wand to the rope-Portkey and it flashed in flames, destroying it, before lunging forward while Harry swung the Sword with all of his might. Harry felt the blade slice through the stone of the column like a knife through butter, destroying the final Horcrux. Now that the main support column had been demolished, the whole chamber began to tremble instantly. As planned, Snape wrapped his hand around Harry’s arm as the young wizard pivoted to face the Portkey. Harry reached out…
“/CONFRINGO!”/ a cold, high voice shouted.
One word and one phrase made up of a contraction and another word sprang up in Harry’s head. They were “/Bollocks/” and “/I’m screwed/.” The reason for this was that Voldemort had cast a Blasting Curse with the special Portkey as its target – that or he had aimed directly at either Snape or Harry and the trembling, shaking ground had thrown off his aim. Either way, the curse had turned Harry’s only means of escape into a shower of splinters. There was no time to create another Portkey – the whole castle would collapse and crush him in the time it would take to conjure a new item, enchant it into a Portkey, and then activate it. Harry and Snape were stuck.
Massive chunks of the walls and ceiling started to break free and fall. Many Death Eaters scrambled, vainly trying to find cover. One Death Eater’s scream had been cut short when one bolder crushed him, turning him into a sticky jam.
As the chamber collapsed around him, Harry took a small bit of solace in the knowledge that at least he had succeeded in ridding the world of Voldemort.
A tugging sensation on the hem of his robes drew Harry’s attention. He looked down into the bright green, tennis ball sized eyes of Dobby. A triumphant smile stretched across Harry’s face. The Prison Ward did not affect House-Elf transportation. Dobby must’ve transported into the Chamber when Harry and Snape did not show up outside Hagrid’s hut once the castle began to fall. After taking Dobby’s hand in his, Harry glanced back at Voldemort. The fiend was reaching out to grab Wormtail’s silver hand.
The next thing Harry knew, he, Snape and Dobby were standing just outside Hagrid’s hut. There was no unpleasant squeezing as in Apparation, no mad spinning as there was in Floo travel, and there was no uncomfortable hook behind the navel and tugging as there was in Portkey travel. One moment, he was in the crumbling Chamber, and the next, he was standing in a grassy field.
“Wow, elf transport is a whole lot more enjoyable than any other magical transportation,” he said to himself.
Remembering his vow to take Hermione in his arms, Harry spun around in order to find the witch he loved. As he turned, his eyes quickly surveyed the devastation caused by the falling of the castle. Centuries of dust had been thrown up into the air due to the ancient building’s collapse; this created a dense cloud that covered the ground and reach upwards, hundreds of feet. Even though he couldn’t see a thing, Harry assumed that the Astronomy Tower would have fallen by this time, and that the walls of the castle had begun their inevitable structural failure.
Ignoring the castle and its fate, Harry continued to turn until he found the woman he loved. Tears of joy cascaded down her cheeks and he couldn’t wait to kiss them away. He had barely taken two steps when the joy in Hermione’s eyes drained in an instant, replaced by panic. Ron and Luna, who were standing on either side of the brunette witch, pointed over Harry’s shoulder with trembling hands.
Harry turned to face where his friends were pointing and his stomach fell.
There, standing with his black robes billowing in the wind, with the cloud of the collapsing castle behind him, holding Wormtail’s disembodied silver hand was Lord Voldemort.
“I always have an escape plan, Potter,” Lord Voldemort said, with hate bubbling up in his cold voice. “Did you honestly think I’d give one of my lowly followers such a precious gift without ulterior motives?” He held up the metallic limb, clearly taking pride over his cunning. “It’s an emergency-transporter of my own design – it can mimic and follow the last form of any magical travel used within a twenty foot radius – and unlike most wizards, I am powerful enough to mimic even House-Elf magic. When I created my wondrous device in this specific form to quiet that sniveling pillock, Wormtail, I knew that it might come in ‘/handy’/ one day.” The fiend giggled at his own poor pun.
“Now it’s time to deal with the traitor.” This was the only warning anyone got before Voldemort began firing curses. Snape grunted in pain as a massive gash was cut into him. The greasy haired wizard began to pitch forward, a fountain of blood and gore spraying from his side, just below his ribs.
Harry dove at Snape. A yellow bolt of magic rocketed by Harry, missing him by fractions of an inch, as he grabbed Snape by the shoulders.
“RUN!” shouted Harry to his friends. “GET BEHIND THE TREES!”
While dragging Snape behind him, Harry bolted to the tree line a few feet away, bobbing and weaving as best as he could in order to dodge Voldemort’s attacks. Unburdened, Harry’s friends reached the trees a few seconds before he did. Hermione and Luna jumped behind the trunk of a massive oak while Ron and Dobby took shelter behind another. Grunting, Harry jumped and landed with a thud just as a curse blew a chunk out of a tree next to him.
As Voldemort continued to fire off a rapid series of deadly hexes, he mocked; “You’ve only delayed the inevitable, Harry. After I kill you and your friends, I’ll rebuild my army and I will destroy everything you care about, boy.”
Snape coughed. Dark red blood spewed from his mouth, spattering his lips and chin. One look told Harry that his former professor did not have much time life. The older wizard let out a shuttering breath and his eyes closed.
Harry held the dying Potions Master in his arms. This was a difficult, messy task – not because of the wizard’s lifeblood flowing from his gaping wound that soiled Harry robes, rather the young wizard didn’t want Snape’s greasy hair to touch him. Harry knew that blood could come out of his clothing, but he doubted that whatever the substance in Snape’s hair could ever be completely cleaned.
As he awkwardly cradled Snape, Harry wondered what he should say to the wizard. Should he forgive the man for all of his misdeeds, for all the wrongs he had committed against Harry?
An explosion shook the tree behind Harry. He could see Hermione and Luna a few feet away, holding onto one another in fear and support.
Suddenly, Snape’s eyes snapped opened. Looking up at the boy he had persecuted for so long, Snape muttered; “I regret joining the Death Eaters.” A shuttering, rattling breath escaped his lungs. “I regret all the harm I caused through my deeds and actions. But most of all Potter, I regret not getting the chance to-” another spasming breath, “…wank to your mother’s memory just one last time.”
As his mother’s stalker’s eye fluttered closed, Harry resisted the urge to drop the dying prick to the ground. Harry was, after all, the hero and heroes do not do such things – even to hated ponces who wanked over the memory of said hero’s mum.
Then Snape’s eyes shot open one last time. He looked deeply into Harry’s brilliant green eyes and spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. “Potter, grant me this, my dying wish: pretend to be Lily, you have her eyes after all… and you can use my blood to dye your hair red like hers… and then… touch…m—”
Thankfully, the fates interceded and took Snape to the Next Great Adventure before he could give voice to complete his final request. Of course, Harry had wished that they had taken the arsehole a few moments before, that way the young wizard would not have been scarred by what he had been asked to do.
“I know this is wrong of me to say, but God I hated that prick,” Harry said, letting the still warm corpse slide to the ground with less dignity than a hero of his stature should have.
“Well, at least he was in so much denial that he couldn’t see that he was truly attracted to your father and not your mother, as proof of his Patronus,” Hermione said from her nearby cover, having the misfortune to have overheard Snape’s dying words. “Otherwise, his last request could have been significantly more awkward.”
Another blast from Voldemort shattered a tree trunk no more than five feet away from Harry. It was obvious that the villain was toying with his prey.
“Yeah, that greasy bastard’s death was tragic and all, but what the bloody hell are we going to do now?” Ron demanded frantically.
“Let’s make another Portkey and escape!” offered Luna, her eyes even wider than normal.
“No, we don’t know if Voldemort could use Wormtail’s hand to follow us again,” Hermione said.
“Besides, it has to end now,” Harry said. He stood and squared his shoulders, ready to face his destiny. He took one step from behind the tree with his wand already raised and prepared to fire a curse when the ground a foot in front of his feet exploded. The concussion of the blast threw Harry back, slamming him against another tree.
With his head still spinning from the blow, he overheard Ron exclaim;“What about Harry’s power boosts? He could just lean around the tree and blast You Know Who to kingdom come.”
“Dear, you’re forgetting that You Know Who’s has gone through his own power boosting rituals. And he’s got decades worth of fighting experience over Harry!” explained Luna. “Even if Harry had more power than him, You Know Who would still have enough skill to easily block and counter anything Harry threw at him!”
Voldemort, still launching Blasting Hexes at Harry and his friends in a sadistically playful manner, called out “I don’t know how you found out about my Horcrux, but you’ve lost, Harry. You have only destroyed one of my Horcruxes! I have four more hidden where you’ll never find them!” He added bitterly, “I’d have five if Lucius wasn’t an idiot and lost my diary.”
Harry quickly gestured to his friends to remain silent. He feared that if one of them let slip that they had in fact destroyed all of Voldemort’s Horcruxes, the dark wizard, who was terrified of his own mortality, would retreat and this opportunity to end Voldemort’s reign of death and terror would be lost.
Suddenly, Harry saw something spark in Hermione’s eyes. She locked eyes with him and said, “Harry, I’m pregnant.”
The young wizard looked at the witch he loved. Her eyes were full of dread, worry, doubt and something that made Harry believe she had done something terribly, terribly wrong. He assumed that she had forgotten to recast her Anti-Conception Charm and this was the cause for this odd expression.
“I’m pregnant, Harry,” she repeated with the same look of worry, dread and odd guilt.
“What? Do you expect some sort of congratulations from us?” Ron asked, piercingly.
“Congratulations, Hermione,” Luna said earnestly. “I hope we live through this so I can throw you a baby shower.”
The world faded away for Harry. His mind left Voldemort and the destruction around him and entered a world where Hermione was expecting. In his mind’s eye, Harry saw Hermione a few months from now, her belly large and round. He had his hands on her stomach, feeling the baby kick and move inside her womb. His mind flashed forward and he imagined holding his and Hermione’s baby a few moments after he or she was born. His mind raced, coming up with possible names for his child.
Another explosion rocked the ground and violently drew Harry out of his daydream. He looked at Hermione. He had to stop Voldemort. Harry had to do it, for his family – for his and Hermione’s unborn child.
As Harry stood, he focused on his love for Hermione and their child. A powerful golden light once again emanated from his body. Shimmering rays floated from his body and coiled and undulated like tendrils.
“Not this again. Not the pure love thing,” moaned Ron. “It makes me feel funny! And I really don’t think now is a time to feel funny!”
“Now’s the perfect time,” Harry said, stepping out from behind the trees. With the thought of his future family warming his heart and soul, Harry drew up his wand.
“What’s this?” asked Voldemort, confused by the strange golden glow surrounding Harry.
The knowledge that his child was growing in Hermione’s womb had allowed Harry to tap fully into his love core – more so than ever before. This incredible power coursed through him, making his body burn. He could feel his feet hovering an inch above the ground as he slowly walked toward his target.
Overcoming his confusion, Voldemort launched a lethal cutting curse directly at Harry’s throat. The silver crescent of magic soared through the air and struck the glow encapsulating Harry with a reverberating clang. The curse shattered like crystal, leaving the young wizard unscathed.
Voldemort’s red eyes burned with hatred. He raised his wand and his mouth opened, ready to spit out another incantation. Before any sound could leave his lips, one of the golden tendrils that extended from the glow surrounding Harry lashed out, slashing Voldemort across the hand. The villain cried out and recoiled. A dark burn mark smoldered where the tendril had touched his skin.
Clutching his burnt hand to his chest, Voldemort hissed “I took your blood! The cursed blood protection shouldn’t harm me anymore!”
“That’s not the blood protection, that’s the power of love,” Harry said.
Harry heard his best mate gripe, “If I wasn’t scared shiteless right now, I’d think that was the lamest thing I’ve ever heard one bloke say to another.”
Harry eyed the damage to Voldemort’s hand. The pure power that emanated from his body hurt Voldemort. It was feasible that he could actually kill Voldemort with it. He just needed to focus the power somehow. A spell, perhaps, that would concentrate the pure love Harry felt and launched it at Voldemort.
Harry smiled. He already knew a spell that concentrated pure emotions: the Patronus Charm. The Patronus was powered by pure happiness. If he could focus the love he felt into the charm, he could direct it at Voldemort. Hermione had actually theorized that he could use a Patronus as a weapon against Voldemort a few weeks previously. Of course, Ron had also theorized at the same time that Harry could defeat Voldemort with an Expelliarmus Charm, but Harry thought that Hermione’s theory had the support of logic and intelligence behind it.
With the image of him sitting on a bed next to Hermione as he held their newborn baby, Harry pointed his wand at Voldemort and shouted,“/EXPECTO PATRONUM!”/
His wand jerked in recoil as a giant, glimmering stag leapt from the tip of the weapon. It was larger and more brilliant than any Patronus Harry had ever conjured before. He could feel the pure love super-charge the energy in the stag. The magical animal’s hooves pounded silently on the ground as it charged, full-bore, at Voldemort. It lowered its head, pointing its sharp antlers at the fiend’s chest, and crashed into the snake-like wizard.
The moment the stag struck Voldemort, the Patronus exploded and engulfed the dark wizard in flames. Voldemort reared his head back and screamed in utter agony. The flames swallowed him – the power of love literally burned the man who knew nothing but hate.
Through the flames, Harry saw Voldemort’s flesh blacken and large chunks fall to the earth where they burned to ash. He also saw pure hate and anger in his foe’s red-eyes.
Knowing this may be his final act, Voldemort focused all of his rage and hate on Harry. He leveled his wand at the black-haired wizard and screamed “/AVADA KEDAVRA!”/
Just as the Patronus was the embodiment of pure joy, the Killing Curse was pure hate – to cast it properly, someone had to hate their target enough to kill them. And, just as Harry’s power sprang forth from his love, Voldemort’s came from hatred, giving the fiend a true knack for the Unforgivable.
The green bolt blazed through the air, rocketing at Harry. It moved so rapidly, the young wizard did not have time to react. The dreaded curse hit its target.
But, just as his mother’s pure love had shielded him from the Killing Curse when he was a toddler, the pure love that surrounded Harry right now had the same effect. Whereas Lily had sacrificed herself out of love and thereby shielded her son, Harry’s shield was powered by the thought of his family – Hermione and their child – and had the same power as Lily’s sacrifice. The green beam of magic struck the golden shield and rebounded upon its caster, just as it had over fifteen years before. The power of the rebounded Killing Curse combined with the magical fire which had engulfed him turned Voldemort into a pile of soot in an instant.
Harry stared at the smoldering pile of ashes that used to be the monster who murdered his family and hunted him his whole life. As he watched the smoke rise up into the air, Harry realized that this pile that used to be Voldemort had done far more than kill his family – he had terrorized an entire society for a generation. He had murdered, tortured and maimed countless people. And now he was gone. He wouldn’t be coming back like he had done previously. Voldemort was truly and completely dead this time, thanks to Harry’s success in finding and destroying all of Voldemort’s Horcruxes. Harry continued to stare at the ashes for a full minute, letting the awe of his victory wash over him, before shouting “I WON! I BLOODY EFFING WON!”
Hermione was the first to rush out from her protective cover. She leapt at Harry and threw her arms around his neck, sobbing in joy that he lover was alive. Ron, Luna and Dobby quickly joined the embrace with the red-head shouting “You did it! You bloody did it!” over and over.
Suddenly, every single member of the Order of the Phoenix appeared around Harry and his friends, each one holding onto various objects that had obviously been turned into Portkeys. McGonagall rushed forward and said “The moment Hogwarts fell, the House-Elves let us go and I Apparated to Grimmauld Place and activated the emergency beacon!”
“We all popped over and Minerva told us what was going on. We got here as quickly as we could,” added Tonks.
“Where are they?” demanded Mad-Eye Moody, ready – and eager – to hex someone. “Where are the Death Eaters and You Know Who?”
Hermione, Ron, Luna and Dobby looked to Harry. Each one assumed that since Harry was the hero of the hour, it was his right to tell everyone of the defeat of the most feared wizard of their time.
With a joyous smile splitting his face cleanly in two, Harry cried out “I’M GOING TO BE A DADDY!”
Hermione let go of Harry and instantly began wringing her hands. Harry was too delirious over the joy he felt to notice this small, but guilty action.
“Really? That’s fantastic!” Arthur Weasley said with naked excitement.
“Oh, what wonderful news!” added Molly Weasley, looking at Hermione questioningly.
“Yeah, yeah, congratulations,” Moody said dismissively. “Now where’s the Death Eater Scum?” The old Auror was clearly aching to hex someone.
“They’re all dead!” announced Ron.
“What about Voldemort?” asked Remus Lupin.
“Erm, you’re stepping in him, Professor Lupin,” Luna replied, pointing at the pile of soot and ash around Remus’ feet.
“It’s over?” Tonks asked. “He’s finally dead?”
“Yeah, and he’s not coming back this time!” cheered Ron.
“This calls for a celebration!” cried Kingsley Shacklebolt.
“I’m going to be a dad!” repeated Harry. This news was obviously far more important to him than Voldemort’s defeat.
“I think this calls for a double celebration!” Arthur said, bristling with pride. “For the defeat of You Know Who, and to celebrate Harry and Hermione’s joyous news!”
Harry felt a tear roll down his cheek while Hermione began to chew on her lower lip almost frantically.
“Let’s go to the Three Broomsticks and break open a case of Fire-Whiskey!” announced Remus as he gave Harry a congratulatory pat on the back. “So Harry, who’s going to be the godfather of your baby?” he asked, hoping to be the one the young wizard had in mind.
“Not gonna happen, Remus, that job’s going to his best mate, yours truly,” Ron said, thumbing himself in the chest as nearly everyone standing outside Hagrid’s hut began making their way to the School’s gates.
“I can’ wait till I get to take yer kid on his firs’ year boat ride ta the castle,” Hagrid said to Harry with happy tears flowing freely. “’Course we’ll have ta rebuild tha’ castle.”
Harry let his friends congratulate him and offer name suggestions for his baby as they walked out of the gates and down into the streets of Hogsmede.
Meanwhile…
Just outside Hagrid’s hut, Hermione stood, wringing her hands and worrying her lip madly. She stared, wide-eyed, at some unknown point far off in the distance.
The only other people with her, Molly Weasley and Tonks, stood a few feet away from the distraught witch, conferring beneath their breath to one another. After a moment of discussion, Molly jotted anote down on a piece of parchment. Then the two walked up to the brunette witch.
“Hermione dear, do you have something to tell us?” asked Molly.
“I’m a horrible, horrible person,” Hermione wailed.
“You’re not horrible,” Tonks consoled her.
“But I lied to Harry. I lied to him in the most horrific way!” Even though Hermione had lied to Harry in order for him to fully access his power to defeat Voldemort, she felt as if she was lower than the lowest animal.
“It doesn’t have to be a lie,” offered Molly.
“Just a delay in the truth,” added Tonks.
“What do you mean?”
“Here,” Molly said, handing Hermione the note. “The first is a spell that cancels out all anti-conception charms. The other is a charm that will help you ovulate.”
“Mind you it’s not as good as the Prewitt Ritual you and Harry accidentally tricked me and Remus into performing,” Tonks commented, “but I think Harry might get a little suspicious if you pop the baby out in a couple of weeks like I did.”
“Now, you perform these two charms and ride Harry like a pony,” Molly said with a smile. Both Tonks and Hermione looked at the Weasley matron in surprise. “Oh please, you don’t get to have seven children by being chaste.
“As I was saying, you have your way with Harry – which I’m sure he won’t mind in the slightest – every day and night until you change that lie into a ‘/delayed truth,’/as Tonks called it,” concluded Molly
“Basically, shag him until you really do get knocked up,” clarified Tonks.
“Nymphadora Tonks,” Molly said, scathingly.
“What? You used the term ‘ride Harry like apony’ and you’re mad at me?” defended Tonks.
“I’m upset that you used such a foul word,” the red-head said. She smiled at Hermione and added with a happy lilt, “Didn’t you know it’s improper to curse in front of a mother-to-be?’
Hermione looked at the charms Molly and Tonks had given her before saying, “Or at least a mother-to-be-/shortly/.”
To Be Concluded…

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Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor
Chapter Nine: Meow!
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 Nine Summary: Hermione proves that Crookshanks isn’t the only one with claws!
The trio landed in the Hospital Ward of Hogwarts, and Hermione instantly called for Madam Pomfrey. The matron came bolting out of her office, and upon seeing Ron and Harry’s condition, demanded to know what happened.
“We were attacked by Death Eaters,” Hermione practically shouted out in panic. “Ron was blown into a wall after being hit with two Cruciatus Curses. I think he may have a concussion.”
Pomfrey waved her wand at Harry and Ron, using a Mobilicorpus Charm to float the two toward a pair of hospital beds. Harry groaned pitifully; even though Pomfrey’s charm was very gentle, it still jostled him a bit which just seemed to aggravate his numerous bruises, especially the battered ‘Harry, Jr.’ and his baggage and his mangled finger.
After her two patients came to rest on their respective beds, Pomfrey waved her wand over Ron’s body. “You’re right, Miss Granger. He has suffered a concussion,” the nurse announced.
Ron’s eyes fluttered open and he muttered softly “All that hair… she could have knitted some sweaters of something…”
Harry cringed at the mental image of Bellatrix in her nakedness. Hermione looked as if she was going to be physically ill.
“Don’t worry dear,” Pomfrey said to Hermione after she noticed the younger witch’s discomfort from Ron’s statement. “It’s just the concussion talking. I’m sure it means nothing.”
Pomfrey continued to flourish her wand over Ron’s body while performing a number of spells as she continued to try and comfort Hermione. “You should’ve heard the unbelievable things Mr. Potter mumbled in his sleep the last time he was here: a giant black dog that was actually an escaped murderer, a diary that would talk to him, an adventure where he used Polyjuice to sneak into the Slytherin Common Room…”
“I didn’t know I talked in my sleep,” Harry admitted in a hushed tone to Hermione as Pomfrey continued to list his deeds, adventures, and misdeeds.
“I guess it’s a good thing that I find that out now,” Hermione breathed into his ear. “Better now than to find out later, when we’re sleeping together.”
Harry coughed and jerked about slightly on the bed at Hermione’s declaration. She clearly announced that she and Harry were going to sleep together! This, added to the taunt she used earlier against Bellatrix, told Harry that their relationship was going to advance, very soon. Of course, Harry hadn’t attempted to cough and jerk in celebration; he had tried to jump up and shout, “I’m getting lucky!” but due to his various injuries, all Harry could manage was to cough and jerk about. Though in his defense, it was a rather jubilant cough. Pomfrey turned around and began to perform several diagnostic charms on Harry after she was finished with Ron.
“Hmm….a number of bruises,” the healer stated aloud and froze for a moment over ‘Harry, Jr.’ and his luggage. “Ooooh. Ouch; I bet that smarts.”
Harry nodded his head silently and Hermione let out a pitiful whimper in sympathy. Pomfrey patted Harry on the shoulder and said in a comforting tone, “Don’t worry, son, it will be up in no time. Err… slip of the tongue, sorry about that.”
After informing a grateful Harry that no lasting damage was done to the “Great House of Potter’s Family Jewels,” she added, “But you can’t go playing with it for a while. You had some considerable damage done.”
Before Harry could inquire as to how long ‘Harry, Jr.’ was out of commission, Hermione did it for him. “How long until I can… um…” the poor girl turned such a vibrant shade of red that anyone could tell that she was completely embarrassed. She hemmed and hawed a bit while Pomfrey eyed Hermione suspiciously before concluding weakly “Err… that is, how long until Harry can uh, use it?”
“He’ll have to take a dose of ‘Bruise-Be-Gone’ first,” Pomfrey informed as she stared at Hermione’s still red eye. “Mr. Potter will be … ready in a few hours.”
The healer leaned toward Hermione and placed her wand in front of the younger witch’s puffy eye. “Now, why don’t you let me fix your eye?”
“Um… it’s not a Conjunctivitis Curse, ma’am,” admitted Hermione. “I don’t think the counter spell will work properly.”
“Miss. Granger, this school is filled with teenagers, all with overactive hormones, who like to experiment…I know exactly what this is,” Pomfrey stated. “And many young men have bad aim like Mr. Potter, here. Amatorius/ Abdo!”/
With a pop, the redness and puffiness in and around Hermione’s eye disappeared. Pomfrey concluded “I’ve had to use that spell more times than I care to count. I just wish you girls would learn to turn your face away in time.” The healer then refocused her attention on Harry and his damaged digit. “Well, the bones will have to come out of that I’m afraid.”
“No, not Skele-Grow again,” complained Harry.
“Oh, hush,” Pomfrey ordered. “You had your whole arm re-grown a few years back. One finger will be nothing compared to that.” Pomfrey cast the spell and Harry’s finger deflated like a balloon as the bones disappeared. Hermione let out a pathetic whimper when she saw Harry’s finger dangle like a strip of flesh-colored rubber hanging from his hand.
“Ms Granger, I need you to fetch some of my potions for me,” ordered the matron. “First, Mr. Potter will need Bruise-be-Gone; it’s a black and blue bottle, and of course the Skele-Grow; I believe you’ll remember what that looks like. I will also need Caruthers’s Concussion Concoction for Mr. Weasley.” Biting her lip, Hermione nodded and dashed off to the Hospital Ward office.
The moment that Hermione disappeared into the office, the doors leading from the hallway into the Hospital Ward flew open and a very nervous looking Tonks barged in, followed by an angry looking Professor McGonagall. “Nymphadora, I demand to know what’s going on! You come barreling out of the Floo in my office and without a word come running down-”
The Headmistress stopped her tirade of Tonks when she saw two of her students in bed. Harry waved at the two witches. Of course he did this with his bad hand which just caused his bone-less finger to flap this way and that.
“WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?” screeched McGonagall.
“We were attacked,” Hermione answered simply as she stepped out of the office with her arms full of potion bottles and walked past McGonagall and Tonks.
“I got a fire-call from one of my supervisors. He told me that a number of Death Eaters attacked Godric’s Hollow,” explained Tonks. “I apparated there as fast as I could, but it was all over when I got there. There were about three dozen unconscious Death Eaters plus my evil bitch of an aunt. She was unconscious as well, but she was foaming at the mouth. Oddly enough, she had the happiest smile I’ve ever seen on a person.”
“I’ll give this one to Mr. Weasley,” Pomfrey said to Hermione and she took one of the three bottles. “Give a dose of each of those two to Mr. Potter.”
“But what made you come here and why are those two hurt…?” McGonagall stopped herself while indicating Ron and Harry.
“I knew that these three were going to Godric’s Hollow,” Tonks continued. “When I got there, I feared the worst when I couldn’t find them. But one of the witnesses said that they saw three teenagers Portkey away. So I figured they’d head here.”
“One of the Death Eaters escaped as well,” Hermione announced as she poured some of the foul tasting potion down Harry’s throat. “Well, mostly escaped; he splinched himself trying to get away.”
“That would explain the spare leg we found,” concluded Tonks. “But what it doesn’t explain is how we can’t seem to revive the Death Eaters. Except for my vicious Aunt, they all show the symptoms of being stunned. But when we tried a rennervate, nothing happened.”
“Oh that,” stated Hermione who was doing her best to ignore the gagging sounds coming from Harry who was fighting desperately not to throw up the god-awful potions. “You’ll have to hit them with a few dozen Rennervate Charms. Harry… um… well we discovered that Harry can be fairly powerful when he puts his mind to it.”
“Poppy, what’s your diagnosis?” asked McGonagall.
“Potter is fairly beaten up, including a severely broken finger and some deep bruising, but it’s nothing a good night’s rest and a potion or two won’t fix. Weasley, however, has one hell of a concussion. I want to keep him here overnight for observation.”
“Does that mean Harry can leave?” asked Hermione.
“I don’t see why not,” replied Pomfrey. “It’s just a couple of bruises and a finger that needs the bones re-grown. He’s suffered worse.”
“I’ll go back and tell our healers how to awaken the thugs,” Tonks said as she started to walk out of the ward. “I mean we can’t just chuck them into Azkaban if they’re permanently stunned.”
As gently as she could, Hermione helped her bruised and battered boyfriend to his feet.
“Don’t worry about Mr. Weasley, I’ll take good care of him,” Pomfrey informed the couple as they made their way slowly out of the Ward. “And remember, no funny business for the next few hours.”
“That means no experimentation with Cheering Charms,” added McGonagall. Harry groaned as the Headmistress gave him another one of her disturbing saucy smiles.
After what seemed like an eternity of jostling ‘Harry, Jr.’s baggage by walking up various stairs, the couple finally made it back to the Gryffindor Common Room. Harry groaned once more as he noticed that Hermione was steering him toward the stairs that led to his dorm room. At that point, those stairs weren’t just another set of stairs that Harry had to climb. To him it was an evil torture device that was designed solely for the purpose to cause even more pain to his battered bits.
“Can’t I just stay here and sleep on the couch?” whined Harry.
“No,” Hermione stated firmly. “You’ll rest better in your own bed.”
“Bu-bu-bu but the stairs…. They hurt,” complained Harry.
“Just a few more and I promise you can lie down.”
Hermione led Harry up the thirteen steps with each one causing Harry to wince. When the couple walked into Harry’s dorm room, he was nearly doubled over in pain due to his bruised bits. That and the fact that the Skele-Grow had just started to kick in. It felt as if dozens of needles were being shoved through his damaged hand.
“Just lay down,” Hermione said as she helped Harry lower himself on his bed. “I’ll get some food. We haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
The brunette witch stood up and called out “Dobby!” An instant later, the neurotic house-elf appeared with a crack.
“Yes, Miss Harry Potter’s Hermy, you called for Dobby?” he asked nervously.
“Yes, I did Dobby. Harry and I need food. Would you please go get something for us to eat?” Hermione asked politely.
“Dobby would love to!” the little creature squealed.
“But, Harry’s going on a special diet,” added Hermione.
“I am?” asked Harry. This was a new revelation for him, leaving him more than a little surprised. He was curious as to why Hermione would make him go on a “special diet” without even talking to him about it.
“Yes, you are,” Hermione replied to Harry. But before he could ask why, she turned back to Dobby. “We’ll need some protein. Perhaps a simple steak, but he’s going to need vegetables. This is the most important part though, no eggs or dairy.”
“But I like dairy,” complained Harry. He didn’t know what was on the diet she had concocted for him, but he was hurting from the beating and grumpy from the ride that made a mockery of his parents. The last thing he wanted to do was not eat the things he liked. He thought of a way to convince Hermione into allowing him some cheese. Indicating his limp digit, Harry argued “And I probably need calcium to help my bones grow. So I should get some cheese.”
“No dairy. It’s very important to your diet.” she said firmly.
“What diet?”
“But I do see the point of calcium,” she continued, ignoring his question. “Even though the Skele-Grow will do all the work, calcium is very important. Some dark green vegetables have loads of calcium.”
“Miss Harry Potter’s Hermy mean like asparagus?” offered Dobby.
Before Harry could protest, Hermione shouted, “Good God no! All my research states that would be very bad! Very bad indeed! Very foul.”
“What research?” demanded Harry, which Hermione once again ignored.
“Some vegetables like broccoli, chicory greens, and cabbage will do,” Hermione counted off. “And definitely celery. But make the majority of the meal out of fruits like kiwi, watermelon, and pineapple”
“Dobby will be back shortly!” the house elf announced and disappeared with a crack.
“What diet?” implored Harry.
“It’s a surprise,” Hermione answered and she walked over to the side of the bed. “I’ll have to get you into your pajamas,” she added, effectively changing the subject. With a flick of her wand, all of Harry’s clothes disappeared from his body leaving him stretched out on his bed completely naked. He found it odd that he wasn’t embarrassed in the slightest as Hermione examined his naked form. “Oh, my poor baby,” Hermione pouted as she saw all the purple bruises on his flesh. “Oh no!” she moaned as her eyes took in ‘Harry, Jr.’
“Is it bad?” asked Harry, fearful to check for himself. In his panicked mind, he imagined ‘Harry, Jr.’ all sorts of funny colors and twisted this way and that.
“It looks bad,” admitted Hermione, which didn’t help calm Harry’s worries about ‘Harry, Jr.’ being all twisted. “But Madam Pomfrey said that it should be back to normal in a few hours, thanks to the potion. Now I’ll conjure some bottoms for you.”
Another swish of her wand and Harry felt a pair of silk pajamas cover himself.
“Thanks,” Harry said.
Then Hermione waved her wand again and this time, much to Harry’s enjoyment, her clothes disappeared with a soft pop. She stood unabashedly in front of Harry in nothing more than her white cotton knickers.
“B-b-bu-but Pomfrey said we couldn’t fool around,” Harry stammered while looking in her eyes (As everybody knows, when a man is faced with a topless beauty and he says that he is looking in the aforementioned beauty’s eyes what he actually means is that he is staring directly into the beauty’s nipples).
“Harry, my eyes are up here,” Hermione said while gesturing with her hands to look up. “Harry. Baby. My eyes… they’re up here…”
Harry really did try to take his eyes off of ‘Carmella’ and ‘Natasha’ but he failed. It was like his eyes were hit with a Permanent Sticking Charm and they were magically attached to her nipples. He did notice that Hermione’s flesh turn a little red and he also saw that her lovely nipples started to get erect.
“Do you really like looking at my breasts?” Hermione asked nervously.
“Oh, yes,” Harry nodded while keeping his eyes on her pertness. “I can do this all day and not get bored.”
Hermione’s flesh blushed even more (Harry couldn’t tell if any other part of her body had blushed because of the whole “Permanent Sticking Charm” thing).
“I do appreciate it,” admitted Hermione as she unconsciously thrust her breasts up. Harry took this opportunity to examine them even more. Doing her breast – I mean best to ignore the cooing noises that Harry was making while looking at her, Hermione forged on. “But I believe we need to discuss something.”
“Discuss away,” replied Harry who had now taken on the appearance of a deer caught in headlights; Hermione’s headlights that is.
“Harry why did…” began Hermione but then paused and attempted to start again. “Earlier today, Bellatrix…” she huffed and began to lecture her boyfriend who was only half-listing because he had most of his attention on her wonderful boobs. “Harry, I really do like the fact that you find me attractive, but I can’t talk to you when you aren’t looking at me!”
“I am looking at you,” said Harry, which he technically was.
Hermione cursed under her breath and walked over to Harry’s trunk. Harry was a tad disappointed when Hermione turned her back on him thereby removing ‘Carmella’ and ‘Natasha’ from his sight. His disappointment was soon replaced by joy when the brunette witch bent over at the hips as she began rooting around looking for something in his trunk. This action gave Harry a very clear view of Hermione’s wonderful bum, which he enjoyed looking at as much as he enjoyed viewing her boobs. Harry rationalized that her bum was very similar to her boobs: both were made up of two wondrous mounds, both were often hidden cruelly from his eyes by thin pieces of fabric, both had cleavage in one way or another, and he thoroughly enjoyed fondling both sets.
Harry was pulled out of his musing about the similarities of Hermione’s boobs and arse when the witch stood up after finding whatever she had been searching for. The item turned out to be a ratty old pullover that Harry wore whenever he would practice Quidditch. He grunted a sound of objection as Hermione pulled the worn and tattered shirt on; obscuring his view of ‘Carmella’ and /’Natasha’/. The shirt used to be Dudley’s when the fat arse was in primary, and even though Harry had grown considerably, it was still very large on him. But on Hermione, it was a nightgown. It did a very effective job of covering all of Hermione’s nakedness… and her bum… and her knees. It almost covered her ankles for pity’s sake! ‘/Damn that pullover, damn it all to hell!/’ Harry grumbled in his mind.
“We need to talk about something very important and I don’t need you distracted,” announced Hermione as she tied up her hair in a loose bun.
“If you didn’t want me distracted, why did you get all naked?” argued Harry.
“You don’t expect me to sleep with you with all my clothes on do you?” countered Hermione.
“Well, no but…” Harry began to debate when his brain caught up. She had said “sleep with you.” The bespectacled wizard became very, one might even say incredibly, light-headed. “S-s-s-sleep with me?” he squeaked.
“Yes, you’ve had a very traumatic day,” she explained. “I’m not letting you spend the night alone after that bloody ride and that beating you received.”
Harry glanced apprehensively between ‘Harry, Jr.’ and Hermione a grand total of six times before saying “But… but… but Pomfrey said I couldn’t fool around for a few hours….”
“Harry, I said sleep with you; as in your bed!” scolded Hermione which just made Harry more confused. They obviously weren’t talking about the same thing. “Just because I said I wanted to sleep with you doesn’t mean I want to have sex tonight!”
“Yes it does!” exclaimed Harry. “It’s against the law to tell a bloke that you’ll sleep with him but it doesn’t include sex!”
“What law Harry?” Hermione asked incredulously.
“My law!”
“Budge over,” Hermione requested of a pouting Harry. The wizard complied and crossed his arms over his chest. Hermione sat on the bed and spoke softly. “One of the side effects of the ‘Bruise-be-Gone’ potion is temporary impotence.” Harry let out a panicked groan as Hermione continued to explain. “Temporary impotence Harry; a few hours at the most. I read the side effects on the bottle before I gave it to you.”
“Oh,” Harry said as relief washed over him.
“And as to sex,” Hermione continued and a smile reappeared on her face, “I do want you to be my first. But I want it to be special.”
Harry’s relief was quickly replaced by guilt. The entire time he had been thinking of only himself, not what Hermione had wanted or deserved. Hermione obviously noticed his discomfort because she leaned over and kissed him gently on the lips.
“I’m sorry, Hermione,” Harry apologized. “I wasn’t thinking…”
“It’s alright, Harry,” cooed Hermione. “After the day you had, I expect that you feel pretty rotten.”
“I’m okay,” replied Harry.
“And that’s what I wanted to discuss with you about,” stated Hermione. “Today, Bellatrix said that she was told your powers weren’t working right. How did she know that?”
“Kreacher must have told her.”
“What? Are you certain?” Hermione asked.
“Pretty much. Bellatrix said something about a House-Elf and granting his wish of chopping his head off.”
“That does seem to indicate Kreacher,” Hermione allowed. “But how, I mean when could he have told her? Didn’t you order him to stay at Hogwarts?”
“Remember last night, after Gryffindor caught us-” Harry began.
“Yes!” Hermione interrupted. It was obvious from the way she had said “Yes” that she didn’t want to discuss the “I’m sorry I got cum in your eye while a perverted ghost watched us” incident.
“Well, I was in the Common Room all naked and I, well I kind of called for Dobby and Kreacher,” Harry continued.
“How did you accidentally call for a house elf?”
“I think I asked for some help out loud,” explained Harry. “Anyway, those two showed up…”
“While you were naked?”
“Yes,” replied Harry irritably before continuing. “I asked them if they could conjure some pajamas…”
“Because you were naked?” interrupted Hermione.
“Yes!” he shouted. Hermione got an embarrassed look on her face and became silent. After a moment, Harry continued. “After Dobby made me pajamas…”
“Because you were nude,” Hermione interrupted once more. “Did they say anything? I mean House-Elves help some of the older pure-blood families dress, did Dobby or Kreacher make any comparisons? Length or girth perhaps?”
In response, Harry glared at his girlfriend. He was hoping that his glare would be enough to end Hermione’s line of questions.
“Oh, they did!” squealed Hermione. It was obvious that Harry’s glare only encouraged his girlfriend. “How do you rank!”
“Hermione, please! Do you want me to explain or not?” Harry chastised.
“Fine, go ahead,” Hermione pouted.
“I told them I couldn’t do magic because mine had gone all wonky,” explained Harry. “After that I told them they could leave-”
“Oh!” exclaimed Hermione. “And Kreacher must’ve interpreted your order to mean that he could leave the castle-”
“-and tell Voldemort’s boot-lickers that I can’t use magic,” Harry added.
“Which, as we know, isn’t the case,” Hermione completed. “Now what’ll we do with the traitorous elf?”
“I thought you were for House Elf rights?”
“I am,” replied Hermione. “But we can’t have that evil little bugger running around. He’s too dangerous.”
“Agreed.”
“So, two house-elves saw you naked,” chuckled Hermione, bringing up the embarrassing moment again.
“Would you let it drop?” implored Harry. “It could’ve happened to anyone.”
“But it didn’t happen to anyone,” countered Hermione. “It happened to you. Personally, I’d never be able to live it down if a house elf saw me starkers,” Hermione concluded her ribbing with a peck on Harry’s cheek. “Now, if I can talk about something more serious?”
“Please do,” responded Harry.
“… and not House Elves seeing a particular wizard’s bits…”
“Hermione!”
“… all dangly…”
“Hermione!”
“… and wrinkly…”
“I AM NOT WRINKLY!”
“I would like to talk about the attack today,” stated Hermione, her tone becoming serious.
“Oh, yeah, that,” Harry stammered.
“You were fantastic,” complimented Hermione.
“Thanks,” Harry said awkwardly. “You were pretty good too.”
“No, I wasn’t. That’s what I want to talk to you about,” added Hermione. “I had difficulty fighting one Death Eater at a time. And when I did subdue one, one of his compatriots would revive or free him, sending him back into the fight. You, on the other hand, took out dozens with one blow! And they were out for the count!”
“But that isn’t a fair comparison,” Harry stated. “I’ve had a power boosting ritual, whereas you haven’t.”
“That’s why I’d like to perform a power boosting ritual for myself. That way, if we run into any other Death Eaters in our search for the Horcruxes, I can be of help to you,” Hermione continued. “I found a permanent boosting ritual in the book.”
“Really?” This piqued Harry’s interest. Actually, anything found in the book piqued his interest. He wondered what type of activity the ritual needed. For his ritual, he performed oral sex on Hermione. Did the ritual require a sex act? ‘Duh!’ he mentally chastised himself. ‘Of course it requires a sex act! It’s a book on sex magic.’
“Yes, it requires a sex act,” Hermione said as if she could read his mind. “A very substantial sex act,” she added apprehensively.
“What do you mean by ‘substantial’?” Harry asked with concern. Hermione was obviously nervous about the ritual and he didn’t want to pressure her into doing anything that she wasn’t ready to do.
“Remember what we were talking about before?”
“Um,” Harry began to recall the various subjects they had talked about previously. The only thing that came to mind was the recent ribbing he received about having Dobby and Kreacher see him naked. That and his internal musings about her bum and boobs.
“Sex, Harry,” Hermione explained.
“Oh!”
“Yes. I would have to take a special potion, say an incantation, and then our magics, combined with the blood from my hymen, creates a permanent boost for me.”
“Oh,” repeated Harry.
With a loud crack, Dobby reappeared carrying two platters of food. Hermione conjured a small table for Dobby to place the food on and bid the house-elf good-night.
“Getting back to the ritual,” Hermione began as she ate some fruit. “I really do want you to be my first. And I do want to do it soon – not just for the power boost, but because I love you.”
Harry had some difficulty eating his fruit; it wasn’t every day where he would talk casually about losing his virginity with the woman he loved. Every time he attempted to pick up a piece of fruit, he discovered his hands were trembling so much that he couldn’t hold it properly and just dropped it. Upon noticing his predicament, Hermione held a slice of pumpkin to his lips.
“One of the reasons that I am hesitant is Ron,” Hermione said as Harry ate the pumpkin.
“What about him?” asked Harry.
“I feel guilty about him being alone,” explained Hermione as she held a piece of cantaloupe for Harry to eat as she finished her own slice. “We were a couple and I left him for you.”
“Oh yeah,” agreed Harry.
“I think I’ll feel less guilty if we get him a girlfriend,” concluded Hermione. “But it will NOT be Lav-Lav or anyone like her.”
“So Parvati is a no-no, seeing how she and Lavender share the same half of a half-brain.”
“That would make a quarter, love,” corrected Hermione. Before Harry could take offence, she added, “And Ron’s quick temper would cause a great deal of strife between him and most of the remaining witches from Gryffindor.”
“Besides Ginny… but that’s just sick and wrong.”
“Yeah, that’d be worse than you and Ginny, Mr. Freud.”
“Will I ever live that down?”
“No, not really,” said Hermione after a moment of consideration.
“Fine. So nobody from Gryffindor and definitely no one from Slytherin,” Harry stated. “Ron hates everybody and everything to do with that house.”
“So that leaves Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.”
“Wait, why not a Muggle girl?” offered Harry.
“Please! Could you imagine if Ron and the poor Muggle girl actually became a couple?” asked Hermione. “She would bring him home to meet her folks and he would make an arse out of himself because of the scene he would make when he saw all the pictures that didn’t move or a toaster that is actually plugged into the wall. And imagine what will happen when Ron sees a telly for the first time?”
“He would probably hit it with a Blasting Hex out of sheer panic.”
“Yes, he would,” Hermione continued. “Ron cannot function in the Muggle world for one moment. And to ask a Muggle to live strictly in the magical world would be equally as cruel.”
“So, that leaves us someone from either Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, then.”
“As I said. Let’s see… Hufflepuff House is known to have loyal, hardworking, and patient people…”
“Which is good seeing that to be with Ron, the witch would have to be loyal, hardworking, and patient because of his quick and foul temper and his stubbornness,” Harry completed.
“And Ravenclaw has intelligent and insightful people in that house…” Hermione began.
“Another good thing because the witch would often have to look past the unintentionally mean and crude things Ron can sometimes blurt out.”
“This’ll be harder than I first expected,” mused Hermione. Harry nodded his head in agreement. The couple finished their meal in silence.
After Hermione banished the platters away, she crawled into bed with Harry. He kissed her gently and they said their good-nights. Hermione muttered “Nox” and the dorm room became pitch black. Harry held Hermione close to him in the darkness. His crotch was pressed firmly up against her bum; a position that would normally have ‘Harry, Jr.’ jumping for joy. But because of that damned potion, ‘Harry, Jr.’ was off in slumber land and couldn’t enjoy another romp with Hermione. Then fear hit Harry, what if it wasn’t temporary? What if the Skele-Grow had altered the Bruise-be-Gone potion’s side effect in some unforeseeable way? Yes, he knew that ‘Harry, Jr.’ didn’t have any bones in him, but when most men are dealing with impotency (temporary or not) they tend to panic.
Forcing himself not to think about his flaccid state, Harry turned his thoughts to Ron and the challenge of finding him a girl. ‘Who could the ideal witch for Ron be? I got lucky with Hermione, she understands me so well. But Ron can be such a difficult bloke at times.’
They needed a witch who was patient and insightful; one that could put up with Ron’s temper and his crass behavior. He suddenly recalled a conversation he had with a certain blonde witch at the end of his fifth year. The witch had dealt with her housemates’ cruel actions throughout the entire year and she simply told Harry that they didn’t mean it. She understood that they were kind people who sometimes did bad things.
Could she be the one? She was blonde and as recently as the wedding reception, Ron had stated that he fancied that particular hair color after all.
“Hermione, I think I know who the witch is,” Harry said in the darkness.
“Really, who?”
“Luna.”
“WHAT?” Hermione screeched. “Luna! You can’t be serious?”
“Yes, she’s perfect! She very patient and insightful,” explained Harry.
After a moment of silence where Harry could actually feel her thinking about the situation, Hermione allowed, “And she does fancy him. Remember that silly ‘Weasley is our King’ song she kept humming?”
“Or the fact that she apparently refuses to call him ‘Ron’?”
“Yes, it’s always ‘Ronald.’ And remember how she would laugh at all of his so-called jokes?”
“See, she’s perfect,” Harry said triumphantly.
“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘perfect’; she is a bit out there.”
“And Ron isn’t?”
“Point taken. Let’s plan on heading over to Luna’s and see if we can set up a date for the two of them.”
“Ron may need some convincing though.”
“Don’t worry, I have a plan…” she finished menacingly.
With that, the two lovers drifted off to sleep.
*
Harry was once again having a very peculiar dream. In it, he was on some distant planet that was completely covered in sand. Harry was some sort of religious icon to the people that lived on this planet. And on this desert planet, giant worms existed, each of which was hundreds of feet long. For some reason, the people depended upon them. But something terrible had happened to the worms. For some reason, none of the giant worms were moving. It was as if they were in a coma.
The people turned to Harry to bring these creatures back to life, because apparently that’s what religious icons did. He tried several things to revive the worms. First he talked to a giant clam that was nearby. But the clam couldn’t offer anything; it kept gibbering on about commitment and respect. He tried again by casting a Rennervate Charm to no avail. He then got the oddest notion to pet the monster.
Tentatively, he patted the worm’s side and much to his surprise, the creature moved slightly. He called to a group of women to give him a hand petting the worm. Oddly enough, all the women looked vaguely like Hermione. With the help of the women, Harry was able to pet the worm back to life. The giant creature rose victoriously into the air and the people cheered, “THE SLEEPER HAS AWAKENED!”
*
Harry slowly awoke from his odd dream. It was still pitch black in the room and he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face (that he didn’t have his glasses on didn’t help the situation, either). But what he could tell was that Hermione’s bum was still firmly pressed against his crotch and more, it appeared that ‘Harry, Jr.’ woke up before Harry himself did. Thankfully, the temporary side effect of impotency had worn off. And it seemed to have worn off with a vengeance. It was so hard that it hurt!
Harry’s fifth appendage was roughly poking Hermione’s left cheek. The witch purred and she ground her bum into his erection. Even though he was still half-asleep, Harry was not one to turn down an early morning frolic.
He nuzzled the nape of her neck while his hand trailed down her taut and naked tummy. He knew it was naughty, and a bit fast, but he wanted to show Hermione that his finger had completely healed. With his now- repaired finger, Harry pressed the witch’s love button through her knickers. In apparent appreciation, the witch rubbed her bum up against his aroused state even more.
Harry nibbled on her ear and he took in her distinctive flowery smell. Harry paused both in his nibbling and his rubbing of the witch’s ear and knickers (both of which were very damp at the time). Even with his sleep addled brain, Harry began to realize something was amiss. Hermione didn’t have a flowery scent; her scent reminded him of parchment and old books. Before he could ponder this revelation further, the witch ground her hips into the still erect form of ‘Harry, Jr.’
“C’mon Harry, don’t stop now,” the witch purred. Harry immediately recognized that the voice he was hearing didn’t belong to Hermione. But due to his not-quite-awake state, it took Harry a half second to place it.
“GINNY!” he screamed and jumped out of the bed as if it was engulfed in flames. He frantically ran to the door but found it locked. The fact that the door was locked didn’t stop Harry from trying to claw his way through the barricade like a wild animal. “W-w-w-where did you come from?”
“Mum got a call from Professor McGonagall about Ron being injured. Knowing that you’d be here, I… volunteered to check up on Ron for Mum,” Ginny replied.
“S-s-stay back!” Harry cried in fear as he continued to try to claw through the door.
“What’s your problem, Harry?” whined Ginny. Harry could hear her mutter a charm and all the torches in the room lit up, illuminating the room. “I could tell you wanted me; you were as hard as a rock.”
In truth he had been very erect; but that was when he thought his bedmate was Hermione. The moment he discovered that he was rubbing (in more ways than one) Ginny, the girl who looked like his mum, ‘Harry, Jr.’ deflated like a popped balloon. He turned to face his molester and tell her just that when he saw that she was sitting up in his bed and was very flushed. And very topless!
The half-naked Ginny rose from the bed, and with a sultry saunter to her walk, made her way to Harry, who at the time was trying his damnedest to push his body through the solid wooden door to get as far away from Ginny as possible.
“You know you want me,” she said huskily as she reached forward and cupped his crotch. Judging by the look on her face, Ginny was very surprised that Harry was no longer aroused. “Hey, what happened here?”
“What did you do with Hermione?” Harry choked out.
“Oh, I saw her leave to go use the loo,” she said nonchalantly, while twirling her wand in her hand. “So I decided to make my move. But I couldn’t have her pop in and spoil our fun now could I?”
“What did you do?” repeated Harry.
“I just tied her up,” she muttered as she eyed his trousers lustfully. “These won’t do.” With a flick of her wand, Harry’s trousers disappeared, leaving him completely nude.
Before he could cover himself, Ginny dove at his naked groin and began to devour his flaccid state with her lips and tongue.
“For the love of all that’s holy, what are you doing?” Harry shouted as he tried to push her away.
“C’mon Harry,” she pleaded in-between sucking, “you’re just being shy.”
Both Harry and Ginny were thrown to the floor when the door that Harry was leaning against blew up.
A very angry looking Hermione stood in the ruined doorway. She pointed her wand menacingly at Ginny. “Get – off – of – my – boyfriend!” she commanded.
“/Expelliarmus/!” Ginny shouted from beneath Harry forcing Hermione’s wand to go flying from her grasp. “I should’ve disarmed you when I tied you up,” Ginny stated as she pulled herself away from Harry. “Maybe I should tie you up again and make you watch as I turn my boyfriend into a man!”
But before Ginny could conjure robes to bind Hermione, the brunette witch slapped the wand out of her hand, sending it clattering under the bed. A very stunned Ginny turned back to Hermione and was about to verbally assault Harry’s girlfriend when Hermione slapped the younger witch across the face, hard.
“Ow!” cried out Ginny. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m going to beat some sense into you, bitch!” declared Hermione and she slapped Ginny again. “He doesn’t want you, you crazy stalker!”
Ginny slapped Hermione back and shouted “Yes he does! We were meant to be together!”
“Why? Because your mummy read you bedtime stories about the Boy Who Lived?” Hermione retorted as she tugged on a tuff of Ginny’s red hair.
“OW! Unlike you, I’ve been in love with him since I was a little girl!” screamed Ginny as she frantically tore off the pullover that Hermione had been using as a night gown.
Harry watch in both disgust and arousal as the two witches slapped and tugged at each other. The disgust came from the fact that the girl who looked like his mum was wearing nothing but her knickers while fighting his girlfriend. The arousal came from the fact that his girlfriend was wearing nothing but her knickers while fighting the girl who looked like his mum.
“You didn’t fall in love with Harry. You fell in love with the Boy Who Lived!” Hermione shouted before grabbing at and ripping off Ginny’s knickers. She threw the ruined garment in Ginny’s face, declaring, “That’s not who he is!”
“He saved me from the Basilisk! That proves he loves me!” defended Ginny as she roughly pinched Hermione’s tit as if to prove her point.
As Hermione rubbed her assaulted nipple, Harry suddenly recalled the events from the previous day. Specifically, after he had hit Hermione with his super-charged Cheering Charm, how Hermione seemed to enjoy all the spankings she both gave and received. Harry was reminded because he saw that ‘Carmella’ and ‘Natasha’ were fairly erect, even before the one had been pinched. Harry wondered if Hermione was actually enjoying the slaps she was receiving from Ginny (He figured she was enjoying slapping Ginny, regardless of any sexual reasons – the damned stalker deserved it). For just one second, Harry considered intervening in the fight just to ask Hermione if she was becoming aroused. Purely for reference. But he realized that it would be a bad idea to get involved in the catfight, if only due to the high potential of getting hit; Harry had received enough painful beatings from women to last a long while, thanks to Bellatrix.
“Sweetie, let me point something out to you,” Hermione began after she recovered from the pinch. “Harry stopped Voldemort from getting the Philosopher’s Stone thereby saving everyone.” Hermione punctuated her statement by slapping Ginny directly on her boob. “And technically, he saved everyone in the castle from the Basilisk.” Hermione viciously slapped the witch’s other tit. “So by your flawed reasoning, he should be in love with everyone in the school!” Hermione ended this part of her discussion by painfully striking Ginny dead center on her vulva.
Harry cringed as Ginny slumped to the floor painfully.
“You bitch!” screamed Ginny and dove at Hermione. She savagely tore Hermione’s knickers to shreds and was about to return the painful slap she had received when she suddenly paused looking at Hermione’s now naked groin.
“You’re shaved?” Ginny questioned.
“My hair isn’t the only thing kinky about me!” Hermione answered before slapping Ginny once more.
Hermione’s statement about being kinky would seem to suggest that she indeed did enjoy the slap fight. That and the fact that Harry could see both ‘/Carmella/’ and ‘/Natasha/’ were extremely erect and rigid. And that her flower seemed to be a touch puffy and dewy.
Ginny was awaken from her stupor upon seeing Hermione’s ‘hygienic state’ and let out a blood-curdling cry as she tackled Hermione to the floor.
It was at this point that Ron had the misfortune to enter the room. Apparently, Pomfrey had decided that he was healed enough to spend the rest of the night in his own bed. Harry saw the look in his friend’s eyes and could tell what he was thinking, simply because he would be thinking the same things if he were in Ron’s shoes. You see for a bloke, it’s more than a little uncomfortable if you see your male friend lying on the floor naked such as Harry was. Harry could tell that Ron was doing his best to block that particular vision from his eyes and memory. But it is considered quite entertaining if that same bloke sees his female friend naked early in the morning. And if that female friend – if you don’t remember; the nude one – happens to be rolling around on the ground while wrestling another equally naked, yet unknown, female at the time, well that’s just damn entertaining for the bloke. It was obvious to Harry that Ron’s first thought was to pull up a chair and enjoy the show. But then, Harry saw the horror dawn in his friend’s eyes. You see if the bloke who is enjoying watching his nude female friend wrestling with an equally nude, yet unknown, female finds out that the unknown nude female is actually his baby sister… well that’s generally considered a bad thing, especially if the bloke had been enjoying it. Harry could tell exactly when Ron figured out the identity of the second naked girl; Ron turned a most interesting shade of green.
Hermione shot up and spat a tuff of Ginny’s red hair out of her mouth (where that tuff had come from, Harry didn’t want to know). Hermione stood over Ginny and shouted, “Harry is in love with me and I’m in love with him and there is nothing you can do to change that!”
“We’ll see,” Ginny said defiantly.
“Oh, are you going to try to seduce him again?” Hermione mocked. “Let me tell you something, little girl; not only can he lick a mean pussy,” she paused and pointed to her bare groin to emphasize her point, “but he’s also came in my eye. And I’ve swallowed his load!”
“All at the same time?” Harry heard Ron muttered.
“Another thing,” Hermione continued, either oblivious to Ron’s presence or ignoring him. She stomped over to Harry and with an unusual show of strength, hoisted him off the floor and to his feet. “Harry and I are going to take a shower… together! And while I’m wanking him off, I’m going to take a huge amount of pleasure in the fact that I’ll be playing with something you can never have!” She concluded her statement by making a show of cupping Harry’s naked groin so that Ginny could see. “This is mine!” she growled.
Hermione gave Ginny the two fingered salute and led Harry out of the room and toward the bathroom, leaving Ron alone in the room with his naked sister.
*
It didn’t take much time for Harry to forget about his traumatic situation with Ginny. Not when a sudsy Hermione was nibbling on his ear while she was giving ‘Harry, Jr.’ a thorough cleaning. Mind you, Harry was a gentleman and couldn’t let Hermione have all the fun, so he finally was able to demonstrate to Hermione just how well his finger had healed.
At first, it was a bit awkward, but the two lovers eventually positioned themselves; Hermione had her back pressed up against Harry’s chest and was wanking him off by reaching behind her. Harry had reached around Hermione’s body with both of his hands; one was massaging ‘/Natasha/’ while the other was caressing the folds of her flower.
After a few minutes, with a muttered grunt, Harry came on her hip. Hermione giggled as she watched his seed mix with the water and soap suds as it trickled down her leg.
“It’s like a race,” she said with mirth as Harry tried to catch his breath. “Who do you think reach my foot and will win?”
“My cum,” panted Harry.
“No, I think the big soap bubble will beat the rest,” stated Hermione.
“That’s not a soap bubble,” concluded Harry with a slight grin.
Now that he had been satisfied, Harry was able to focus all of his attention on his lover. He used both of his hands to stimulate Hermione; his now healed finger continued tracing her folds while the fingers on his other hand busied themselves by playing with her bud. Hermione wrapped her arms around Harry’s neck for support because her knees became weak. Shortly thereafter, Hermione shouted out Harry’s name as she orgasmed.
After both lovers had climaxed, Hermione leaned her back against Harry’s chest under the shower’s spray. “This is wonderful Harry,” she purred. “I can’t see how this could get better.”
Harry voiced his agreement by nuzzling the nape of neck her and massaging her boobs.
“Do you think she’ll try something like this again?” she asked.
“Let her; she can never take me away from you,” he whispered into her ear. “You are my everything.”
As they leaned against the wet wall, Hermione busied herself by running her fingers through Harry’s hair. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help but wonder if Dobby or Kreacher had compared you to anyone,” Hermione said in an amused fashion. Harry groaned as Hermione continued her earlier ribbing of his embarrassment. “I don’t know what I’d do if a House Elf saw me naked…”
“Well there’s one way to find out,” offered Harry. Before Hermione could ask what he had meant, Harry held her arms behind her back playfully and called out “Oh, Dobby!”
With a loud crack, Dobby appeared in front of the two wet and naked teens.
“You called for Dobby Harry Potter… err… sir” the elf squeaked and his eyes almost bulged out of his head as he saw Hermione’s naked body. Hermione froze for a split second while Dobby looked at her bare flesh. Then she began to struggle to get out of Harry’s grasp. This led to a very fascinating show for Dobby, Harry assumed. Her boobs must have been swaying back and forth because Dobby’s eyes started to swing from left to right as if he was watching a tennis match.
“Harry, let me go!” Hermione commanded though Harry could tell there was no malice in her voice. It almost sounded like she was trying not to laugh. “Let me go or I’ll swear-!”
Hermione’s playful threat was cut short when Dobby disappeared with another crack. “You’re a dead man Potter!” she scolded him. “You’re going to have to work pretty hard to make this up to me.”
“Really what would you suggest?” asked Harry.
“Well, you could use your magical tongue and tap into your love core again,” she offered and wiggled her bum against ‘Harry, Jr.’
“I was actually thinking about doing that anyway,” admitted Harry. He guided Hermione to lie on the floor and lowered himself so that he was in-between her legs. His mouth was near her flower when he heard a series of cracks.
When Harry looked up, all he could see were hundreds of eyes looking at him and Hermione. Each set of eyes were bulbous and brightly colored; they obviously belonged to House-Elves. In fact Harry could argue that a wall of House-Elves had been erected in front of him. House-Elves filled every space in the bathroom. They were even actually standing on top of each other so that they could get a better look. Harry believed that it was quite possible that every single House-Elf in Hogwarts was currently jammed in the bathroom at that particular moment.
“Oh bugger,” groaned Harry as he heard a number of squeaky voices plead “Let me see!”
To Be Continued

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Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor
Chapter Two
Disclamer: Not mine, I own nothing. I’m not making any money either.
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.
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 Two Summary: Harry and Hermione try to make their way to Hogwarts.
“WHAT THE BLOODY HELL?” Hermione screamed as she dove off of Harry. He absently noticed that her hand was still covered with her own spittle and his pre-cum.
“Please, don’t stop on my account,” Gryffindor’s ghost implored. “Continue. Pretend I’m not here.”
“Is that…” began Hermione as she crouched in the corner while clutching her half-opened blouse in front of her. “Is that Godric Gryffindor?”
“See that?” Gryffindor said to Harry. “She didn’t take a kip during History of Magic, now did she?”
‘How can you kill someone that’s already dead?’ Harry wondered internally. He had been so close to cumming… so very close… now he had to suffer. And suffer he would, because ‘Harry, Jr.’ didn’t get to finish playing. And ‘Harry, Jr.’ had quite a temper. Harry knew that when his little friend started to play, but was forced to stop before he got “sleepy”, there would be hell to pay! ‘Harry, Jr.’ sulked off to bed like a petulant child. Harry groaned as ‘Harry, Jr.’ took out his frustrations on his luggage.
“Got a bad case of blue balls, don’t ya boy?” Gryffindor said with a chuckle upon noticing Harry’s discomfort. The ghost turned toward Hermione and asked, “Why don’t you give Harry some assistance and rub one out for him?”
A fluttering of wings announced the return of Hedwig. The owl looked between the three people arguing and sagely decided not to get involved. Hedwig hopped into her cage and watched the verbal battle unfold.
“You disgusting old pervert!” Hermione shouted in shock.
“Guilty as charged,” the ghost answered with obvious pride.
“Is this why you needed my help?” demanded Hermione, turning to Harry. “Some perverted ghost was pestering you, and you thought that I should get involved.”
“Um yeah… no… kinda,” replied Harry sheepishly. “I mean sorta… well he told me that his sword will help destroy the Horcruxes and that I need to get my hands on the sword by tomorrow or it’ll be too late.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me about it before… before…” Hermione stammered obviously embarrassed. “Before I… we…”
“Started to play a gauntly little tune on his skin flute?” Gryffindor helpfully offered. Both Harry and Hermione did their best to ignore the ghost.
“I was worried about you,” replied Harry truthfully. “When you came in, you were awfully upset. I wanted to make sure you were okay, to see if there was anything I could do to help you, before I asked you to help me. And then well, I kinda forgot about it when we um… were…”
Hermione’s eyes shined as she looked at her friend.
“You were worried about me? That’s so sweet!” Hermione said. “I’m sorry for getting angry at you.”
“Now that you two have made up,” Gryffindor interrupted, “why don’t you go on and shake glands?”
“Harry, do you know any method to kill a ghost?” Hermione asked as she looked at Gryffindor, scathingly.
“I was going to ask you about that, actually,” answered Harry.
“Fine, spoil my fun. It’s not like there’s a lot to do when one’s a ghost,” Gryffindor pouted.
“Oh, sod off, you old coot!” both Hermione and Harry shouted in unison.
“Why do you need to get the sword by tomorrow?” Hermione asked Harry.
“He told me that the charms on the sword that would help me destroy the Horcruxes will fail if I don’t get it by then,” Harry answered. “But I can’t leave this house until my birthday, which isn’t for two days. And I have the Order standing guard making sure I don’t leave.”
“So you need a distraction in order to escape,” clarified Hermione to which Harry nodded. The brunette witch thought for a moment before snapping her fingers and calling out triumphantly, “We’ll get Fred and George to help!”
“That’s what I said,” stated Harry, “but the degenerate over there said I should get you…”
“Well, the twins wouldn’t have given you a hand job, would they?” Gryffindor defended himself. “I had your best interests in mind.”
“You mean start to give him a hand job,” Hermione argued bitterly. “Before you barged in for a cheap show and said ‘brainy girls are naughty’!”
“Let’s not point fingers and play the ‘blame game’ now,” Gryffindor brushed the witch off. “You have a quest ahead of you! Get cracking!”
And with a pop, the ghost of Gryffindor disappeared.
“Can ghosts Apparate?” Harry asked.
“No, the old pervert is probably just invisible,” answered Hermione. “He’s just hoping we go at it again.”
“Fine, I’ll leave then.” Gryffindor’s disembodied voice called out and his footsteps were heard walking out of Harry’s room.
“So, are we going to go at it again now that he’s gone?” Harry asked hopefully; ‘Harry, Jr.’ and his luggage were already starting to ache. Hermione gave the young man a look that clearly said “No.” As a matter of fact, one could discern from that particular look that if Harry had wished to pursue this inquiry, it could be quite easily stated that the look also insinuated that he would get his willy cut off.
Hermione walked over to Harry’s desk and wrote a lengthy letter to the twins. She handed Harry the letter which he attached to Hedwig’s leg.
“Could you take this to the twins, girl?” Harry asked. The owl nipped at Harry’s finger affectionately and flew out the window. Harry was quite a bit surprised when his snowy owl dove toward the ground after only flapping her wings twice instead of soaring off into the horizon. “She doesn’t do that normally,” he said aloud.
Both Harry and Hermione went to the window to check on Hedwig’s progress. They were both astonished to see the owl perched on nothing, in mid-air, across the street from # 4. “She doesn’t do that normally, either,” announced Harry.
The two teens rushed out of the house and across the street to where Hedwig had landed and seemed to be hovering six feet above the ground; hovering without using her wings at all, that is. The owl hooted to her master from her invisible perch as if she wanted to be congratulated for doing a good job. Harry moved toward his bird when he heard a noise coming from the empty space below Hedwig.
“What’s he doing here?” a familiar voice asked in a hushed tone.
“Shut up you prat, or they’ll hear us!” another familiar voice hissed.
“Hi, Fred,” Harry greeted the air.
“Hi, George,” Hermione added.
“I think they know we’re here,” one of the twins stated.
“Really? I couldn’t tell,” retorted the other.
A slit opened in thin air revealing the interior of an invisible magical tent. Fred and George stuck their heads out and greeted Harry and Hermione.
“Do you like our new invention?” Fred asked innocently.
“Yes, it’s called the Peeping-Tom-Tent!” George added. “Quite ingenious really, the amount of charms used on it and whatnot.”
“Yes, you see a Disillusionment Charm is used on the outside…”
“While a Transparency Charm is used on the inside.”
“So the people on the inside can see out…”
“But no one on the outside can see the tent…”
“So sexual deviants can peep to their hearts content,” both the twins laughed weakly.
“So, you just happened to decide to test your new product right across the street where Harry is staying?” asked Hermione.
“Well… we wanted to test it in a Muggle neighborhood….” George stammered.
“… And it was just coincidence that we ended up here…” Fred completed his brother’s poorly fabricated lie.
“When did you two join the Order, then?” Harry asked, effectively ending the charade.
The twins slumped their shoulders in defeat.
“Right after the Death Eater attack on Hogwarts,” said George.
“Yeah, because our Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder was essential in the attack…” Fred continued.
“We didn’t know Draco was gonna use it like that when we sold it to him,” concluded George.
“How did you think he was going to use it then?” Hermione inquired.
“Well… he said he was going to use it to seduce Ginny…”
“WHAT!?!” Harry and Hermione shouted.
“What makes you think she would have been seduced by Draco if he used the Darkness Powder?” Hermione asked.
“Our little sister gets turned on by the dark…” George answered.
“Bit of a strange turn on really,” Fred offered. “And Malfoy told us he had an elaborate plan to win Ginny’s heart.”
“You wanted your sister to be with that slimy git?” Harry asked, completely shocked.
“Well it’s better than you and her getting together,” argued Fred. “You and Ginny are just disturbing.”
“What do you mean?” demanded Harry.
“Come on mate, she looks like your mother!” George stated, while Fred shuddered.
“WHY THE HELL DIDN’T ANYONE TELL ME?” Harry cried to the heavens.
“We thought you knew,” said George.
“We just assumed you were bent in the head,” offered Fred.
“I hate you both a great deal,” pronounced Harry. “Really, I do.”
“Let’s get back to the matter at hand,” Hermione implored, “and drop how sick Harry and Ginny’s relationship was.”
“Hey!” Harry cried, taking offence.
“Harry and I need to leave this house immediately,” Hermione continued, ignoring Harry’s protest.
“No,” Fred stated at once.
“We’re under strict orders from the Order,” George continued.
“You don’t have to tell anyone,” Hermione implored compassionately. “Do it for Harry, please?”
“Nope,” the twins pronounced in unison.
“We’ll give you money to turn your back for just a few hours.” Hermione offered.
“Nope!”
Hermione threw her arms up in disgust; she had tried to get the twins to do it out of compassion and then bribery but to no avail. That only left blackmail.
“Fine, have your way. But just to let you know, if you don’t let us leave, when we go to Bill and Fluer’s wedding, I’ll slip Harry and Ginny a Lust Potion,” threatened Hermione as she fought back the bile creeping up her throat caused by the images running through her head.
“So what?” George asked as Harry’s gag reflex kicked in.
“Yeah, Harry would like it,” Fred continued, neither twin noticed that Harry had doubled over.
“I’ll give them a Lust Potion and I’ll make sure that they sit at your table,” Hermione stated as she broke out in a cold sweat. “I can imagine it now; you’ll see Harry’s hand slip under the table, but what you won’t see is Harry’s hand slip into Ginny’s skirt and then… slip a finger or two into Ginny herself….”
George lurched a bit at Hermione’s description, whereas Fred put up a brave face, even though he wanted to run as far away as possible. Harry had dropped all pretences and had started to dry heave once more.
“After that, Harry and Ginny will snog while still finger-banging her, right there at the table in front of you,” Hermione continued, not quite suppressing the quiver of disgust in her voice. “Harry might just pull her robe down so he can…” Hermione paused and swallowed, as she steeled herself for the forthcoming image, “… s-s-s-suckle her tit in public.”
Fred balked and George clutched his stomach. Harry weakly pawed at Hermione’s leg, silently begging her not to continue. He didn’t care about the stupid Horcruxes anymore; Voldemort could take over the world as far as he was concerned. He just wanted Hermione to stop talking about him fondling a girl that looked like his mum.
“Do you think Ginny will wank him off under the table? Or perhaps she’ll go down on him?” Hermione questioned as the disturbing images made her start to go light-headed. “Oh, no; I don’t think you’ll get off that easily. Harry’ll bend her over the table and make her a woman. Right there, in front of you and the rest of your family.
“I figure she’ll squeal a bit when he breaks her hymen,” Hermione’s face had turned a nice shade of green due to the mental image she gave herself, when Fred suddenly interrupted.
“Hold one, wait a minute,” Fred interjected, hoping to derail Hermione’s conversation. “Do you honestly think our little sister still has her hymen intact?”
“Yeah, how else do you think she got so popular so quickly?” added George.
“Fine then,” Hermione countered. She decided to go full bore and take the fight out of the twins. “She’ll just start grinding her hips into his, driving his manhood deeper and deeper into her pulsing box. Do you think he’ll smack her arse? Can you imagine the red, hand-shaped welt forming on her milky white flesh? The same milky white flesh that Harry’s mother had!”
Hermione’s vivid description became too much. Tears of fear and displeasure rolled down Fred’s face as George fell to his knees, begging in a sad, muted tone for Hermione to stop.
“They’ll call out each other’s name in ecstasy,” Hermione added as Harry crumpled to the ground, sobbing. “She’ll scream, ‘HARRY, I’M CUMMING!’ and he’ll grunt as he cums inside her. Then he’ll lean in close to her ear and say: ‘You’re the best… mum!'”
The twins fell to the grassy ground with a thud and Harry mercifully began to black out. Hermione stood over Fred and George and concluded her threat.
“If you don’t let us leave, and without alerting the rest of the Order, I’ll make sure you get to witness first-hand how much Harry loves his mother!”
Some time later, a throbbing pressure in his jeans woke Harry up. Apparently, ‘Harry, Jr.’ was still mad that he wasn’t allowed to finish playing earlier, and he was still taking his anger and frustration out on his luggage, which Harry assumed, had turned from the earlier blue into a nice puce color by now. The young man groaned as he sat up in his chair. To his surprise, Harry was on the Knight Bus, but he had no recollection as to how he got there. He just remembered blacking out while Hermione was spinning a disturbing tale of blackmail and sex, disgusting sex at that. Obviously, Hermione had convinced the twins that it was in their best interest to let her and Harry leave # 4. He figured she had convinced them to help her to get him on the Bus as well.
Harry looked to his right and saw Hermione sitting next to him. The young woman had no color to her face except for a touch of sickly green around her eyes.
“I hope you appreciate what I did for you, Harry,” she said. “All those horrible images have burrowed into my brain. I’m going to have nightmares for weeks now!”
The witch threw herself into Harry’s arms and wept into his chest.
“It was so horrible, Harry” she cried in-between tears. “I kept seeing you… and Ginny… doing… bad… terrible things!”
“Shh; it’s okay, shh,” Harry cooed while gently rubbing her back. “It’s never going to happen.” Harry felt a tinge of guilt as his hands run across Hermione’s back because he kept remembering how nice and warm her bare skin felt a few hours previously.
With a “BANG”, the Knight Bus screeched to a halt directly in front of the gates to Hogwarts. Hermione leaned on Harry heavily, since her knees where still weak from her earlier ordeal, as they exited the Bus and walked up to the gates.
“The gates will be locked,” stated Hermione as the Knight Bus rocketed into the distance. “We’ll have to go through the Shrieking Shack.”
As the two teens marched to the Shack in a roundabout way in order to avoid the villagers of Hogsmeade, Harry was taken back at how low the sun had gotten in the sky. When he had lost consciousness, it had still been late morning to early afternoon. By the position of the sun in the sky, Harry guessed that it was now nearly time for supper.
“How long was I out?” Harry asked.
“A while,” replied Hermione. “I had the twins help me put you on the Knight Bus right after you blacked out. But the driver is new, and he got lost for a few hours. I swear to God I think we somehow ended up in Dijon, France for about an hour. I think we ran over a baguette seller’s cart.”
They remained silent as they ventured through the tunnel that led from the Shrieking Shack to the grounds of Hogwarts. Each step for Harry was nearly excruciating, /’Harry Jr.’/s’ luggage cried out in pain at every footfall. When the teens finally emerged from the tunnel, the sun was about to say ‘good-night’ and leave them in the dark. By the time they had entered the castle, the only remains of the sun was an orange hue on the horizon.
Harry led the way to the Headmaster’s office. The castle was eerily empty and quiet; Peeves didn’t even seem to be around. After a few minutes, they reached the stone gargoyle that guarded the door to the Headmaster’s office.
“Oh, bugger,” cursed Harry. “I don’t know the password!”
Hermione chewed her lip for a moment before saying: “McGonagall is the new Headmistress, but what password would she have used?”
“Dumbledore liked to use sweets,” added Harry. “They were always along the lines of ‘lemon drops,’ ‘acid pops,’ ‘cockroach clusters’…”
“So we just have to figure out what she likes…?” Hermione said to herself.
“‘Ice mice’…” continued Harry, because he honestly didn’t know what the Head of Gryffindor liked. But, he felt compelled to say something.
“What does McGonagall like?”
“‘Fizzing Whizbees’…” again, Harry continued to list the code-words Dumbledore might have used.
“I don’t think she likes sweets, Harry,” stated Hermione.
“‘Blood pops’…”
“Blast it Harry!” Hermione ordered. “Please either be quiet or….”
Hermione was about to continue her philippic toward Harry, but was interrupted when the gargoyle sprung to life and stepped to the side.
“The password is ‘Blast’?” Hermione asked incredulously.
“That isn’t very smart,” stated Harry. “What if someone wanted to break in? They could just walk up and say ‘Let’s use a Blast-ing Hex to blow the gargoyle up.’ And the silly thing would just open up for them like that,” he continued, snapping his fingers to highlight his point.
“Actually,” the stone gargoyle grumbled, his voice sounded like two stones grinding together, “the Headmistress hasn’t made up a password yet. I’m allowed to open up for anyone. I just wanted to play with you for a bit.”
“You cheeky little bugger!” Harry chastised the stone figure.
“Let’s just go, Harry,” groaned Hermione as she stomped up the stairs. Harry followed, shooting a dirty look at the gargoyle.
As they entered the office, they were greeted with a hundred different snoring sounds. But one voice did greet them.
“Hello Harry, Hermione, I was wondering when would you show up,” Dumbledore’s painting said with a genuine smile.
“Hello, Professor,” Harry returned the greeting.
Hermione, however, was too amazed at the sights and sounds of hundreds of former Headmasters and mistresses sleeping in their frames. “Is that Armando Dippet?” she questioned to no one in particular. “And that’s Dilys Derwent!”
“Harry, there are two occasions on which you can stop calling me ‘Professor’ and use my given name,” Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye. “One of which is if you graduate. The other is if one of us dies. And seeing that I am ‘living impaired,’ you may call me Albus.”
“Okay, hello, Albus,” Harry felt odd referring to his mentor in such an informal way. “How are you, sir?”
“Is that Roderic Hillsworth?” Hermione asked aloud once more as she continued to study the different paintings. “And that’s Hamilton the III!”
“I’m dead,” replied the magical painting, “and you?”
“I’m… ah… alive,” was the best response that Harry could come up with.
“Wonderful, I take you’re here because of the visitor you’ve received?”
“You know about him?”
“And that’s… that’s…” Hermione stammered somewhere in the back of the office. “That’s James Doohan!?!”
“Of course I know about Godric visiting you,” Dumbledore said with a wink. “I was the one who sent him.
“Why the hell is there a magical painting of James Doohan here?” Hermione asked from the dark corner where she was standing.
“So you sent him to tell me about the sword?” Harry asked.
“Yes, it is over there on the shelf behind you,” stated Dumbledore.
“Did you know he’s a perverted old coot?” Harry asked as he walked over to the shelf.
“Yes, I am terribly sorry about that, however he was the only ghost I could find,” replied Dumbledore solemnly. “I discovered how perverted he was, first hand, during my sixth year as a student. The future Mrs. Dumbledore and I stole away to a broom-closet when he suddenly appeared over my shoulder making inappropriate suggestions to me. I still don’t believe brooms should be used in such a way.”
Harry looked at the gleaming sword that lay before him. It had been over four years since he had last held it. His hand hovered over the bejeweled handle momentarily. He felt power coming from the sword; power that he had not detected when he first wielded the sword in his second year.
“Excuse me, Professor,” Hermione asked as she walked up to Dumbledore’s painting. “Why is there a painting of James Doohan in here?”
“I’ll only answer if you call me Albus,” the painting demanded in a cheery tone.
As Harry’s hand wrapped around the hilt, a wave of power ran through his body. Harry hoisted the sword up and held it triumphantly over his head.
“Fine. Albus, why is there a painting of James Doohan in here?” repeated Hermione.
“I was playing a little joke on my predecessors,” Albus chuckled. “You see, Hogwarts is in Scotland, and Mr. Doohan played a character called ‘Scotty.’ Do you understand my sense of humor?
“No,” Hermione said honestly.
The sword felt completely natural to Harry, as if it was an extension of his body. He was about the share this revelation with Hermione, when the office door swung open and a very perturbed Minerva McGonagall stomped in followed by an equally agitated Remus Lupin. Both Harry and Hermione froze like statues in their respective places.
“Damn those Weasley twins,” McGonagall said rapidly through clenched teeth. She obviously had not yet seen Harry or Hermione as she continued her stomping and ranting. “How they could possibly have let Potter slip by is beyond me.”
“I’ve already checked #12 and he isn’t there,” said Remus as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Tonks is checking the parks and shops around Little Whinging.”
“And Molly told me he isn’t at the Burrow!” supplied McGonagall.
It was at this point that Remus finally stopped rubbing the bridge of his nose and took notice of the office and its occupants. He saw Hermione standing in front of Dumbledore’s painting sheepishly and saw Harry off to the side standing like some sort of action hero with a sword held high. Harry waved weakly at the old werewolf.
“Where can he be?” McGonagall cried out in frustration.
“He could be standing over there,” stated Remus as he pointed at the raven-haired youth.
McGonagall spent the next better part of an hour yelling at Harry and Hermione. She was considering ‘tar and feather’-ing them when Albus finally spoke up.
“Don’t be too harsh on them, Minerva,” the painting pleaded.
“Why not?” Minerva cleverly retorted.
“It is my fault that Harry and Hermione are here,” said Albus.
“What?” Minerva screeched. “You left us explicit orders that Potter wasn’t to leave that house until he turned seventeen!”
“It is quite funny, actually,” chuckled Albus. “You see, I forgot about the sword.”
The deceased Headmaster explained to the new Headmistress about the Sword of Gryffindor, but left out any reference to the Horcruxes.
“Well, how did Harry know to come and get the sword?” Minerva asked. “You certainly couldn’t have written to him.”
“I sent a ghost to him.”
“Oh? Which one?”
“Godric Gryffindor.”
“Oh, Albus, you didn’t. Not Gryffindor,” stated Minerva sternly.
“I couldn’t convince any of the others to do it for me.” Albus defended.
“Professor, you know about Gryffindor’s… er tendencies?” Hermione asked.
“Yes, I’ve had the pleasure…” Minerva said the word like it was some contemptuous thing, “… to meet him whilst I was showering four years ago. The scoundrel had offered to towel me off, but his offer specifically excluded using a towel!
“Did he say something to trouble you, my dear?” Minerva asked Hermione upon noticing the young witch’s embarrassment.
“No ma’am!” Hermione replied a little too vehemently.
“I suppose you want me to return to my Aunt’s house now,” Harry said in a defeated tone.
“It is now an impossibility, Potter. Your relatives have kicked you out,” McGonagall informed him. “We found out you weren’t in the house when your uncle started to chuck your things out your now-former bedroom window.”
Remus walked up to Harry and handed him his school trunk which had been shrunk to the size of a matchbox. “Don’t worry, I picked up your things,” the former Marauder said.
“And seeing the late hour, you two can spend the night in your old dormitories,” McGonagall said, dismissing the two teens.
Harry and Hermione stopped by the kitchen for some supper. Harry was famished; he ate almost as fast as the House-Elves were able to put food in front of him. He was stuffing his face with meat pies, kippers, white beans and toast, and other disgusting examples of English cuisine.
“Harry, something’s been bothering me,” said Hermione after she finished her meal. Harry turned his attention to his pretty friend while sampling some Plowman’s Lunch. “Even if we do destroy the Horcruxes, you’ll still have to face Voldemort.”
Harry suddenly no longer felt hungry.
“I mean he is the most powerful wizard alive,” Hermione continued. “We’re just kids! We have to find a way to learn useful skills quickly.”
“What do you suggest?” asked Harry.
“It’s time for a good old fashion Library visit,” Hermione finished with a happy smile.
After spending four hours reading various books on various subjects, Harry groaned as he threw another book down.
“I can’t read another word,” Harry declared irritably. “I think my eyes are going to melt out of my head!”
Not only were his eyes sore, but his ‘bits’ were still sore as well. He had tried several times to find an excuse to go off to the loo and relieve himself, but couldn’t come up with a reasonable excuse to be absent for several minutes, leaving Hermione alone researching a way to keep him alive.
“Alright, let’s take a break from reading,” Hermione said and closed the overly large tome in front of her. “Did you find anything useful?”
“I did come across something,” said Harry as he sat down and tried to inconspicuously rearrange ‘Harry, Jr.’ and his luggage. “What about using a Time Turner to arrange some extra training time?”
“Actually, I read up on some case studies of that when I used the Time Turner in our third year,” Hermione explained. “It seems a number of wizards have tried this, but for some reason, after they have used the Time Turner for a period of time, they simply cease to exist!”
“They cease to exist?” That little nugget caught Harry’s attention.
“Yes, it’s as if the ‘powers that be’ lose interest and move on to different things,” Hermione added, “completely abandoning the wizard who used the Time Turner.”
“Well, I don’t want to cease to exist!” Harry exclaimed. “How about you? Did you come up with any ideas?
“I did come across something interesting in this book,” Hermione stated as she reopened the large book in front of her. “There is a way for us to travel to another dimension. Time moves differently there so for every day that passes here, a year will have occurred in the other dimension, so we could literally study seven years while only a week has passed here.”
“Great! How do we get there?” Harry asked as he tried to surreptitiously adjust himself once more in vain attempt for comfort.
“Let me see…” Hermione paused as she skimmed over the pages in the book. “Oh, wait, they’re a few complications.”
“Like what?”
“It seems that the people in the other dimension have a bizarre quirk regarding names; we’d have to call you ‘Paul’ for some outlandish reason. We also have to dye you hair blonde as well as getting rid of your glasses,” Hermione paused again and her face fell. “And the other MAJOR complication is that when the people return to their normal dimension, they tend to have some kind of nervous breakdown.”
“What d’you mean?”
“It appears that they wake up one day and believe their experiences in the other dimension are just a dream and they forget every thing they had learned!” Hermione declared in disgust, and pushed the heavy tome off the table which landed on the floor with a thud. “I have just wasted the past four hours!”
“Damnit!” Harry shouted and stood up. He began pacing back and forth while unconsciously trying to readjust himself. Luckily, Harry had had his back toward Hermione when this happened.
“Well, we’ll just have to cram, study as much as humanly possible,” Hermione stated and Harry coughed. Her definition of ‘humanly possible’ was completely different than Harry’s. Or any other human Harry had ever met. “But we’re probably going to have to stay here at the castle; it does have the most extensive library in Europe, after all. I’ll ask McGonagall in the morning if we can stay.”
Harry continued to pace and adjust; this time right in front of Hermione.
“Harry, how close were you?” Hermione asked, noticing her friend’s discomfort.
“To what?” asked Harry.
“How close were you to… um… climaxing?” Hermione added with a slight blush.
“Wha… wha… what?” Harry stuttered in shock at the directness of Hermione’s question. “How what to what-what-ing?”
“Earlier today, how close were you to… well, cumming?” Hermione smiled as she felt her face heat up.
“Well… I… ah… um…” Harry sighed and forced himself to drop his embarrassment. “Let’s just say one more stroke and I would’ve been a happy man.”
“One stroke! You were that close?” Hermione asked, a bit shocked herself. “Oh, you poor thing, it must be terribly uncomfortable for you.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Harry waving her concern off. “I just need some ‘alone-time’ to take care of it.”
Biting her lip, Hermione stood up and walked over to Harry. She took his hands in hers, and without saying a word, led him to the empty spot on the table when the discarded heavy tome once was.
“Sit,” Hermione commanded.
“Hermione, you don’t have to,” Harry said as he felt the blood leave his upper brain. He then added under his breath; “That is, if you don’t want to.”
“Ever the gentleman, Mr. Potter,” Hermione said. “Now, sit!”
Harry sat on the hard desk and felt ‘Harry, Jr.’ begin to stir. Hermione cupped Harry’s face and kissed his lips. It wasn’t as frantic or desperate as their kisses were earlier in the day, but it was far more stimulating and more passionate. His lips burned as their mouths played with each other. He could taste her on his tongue, and it was intoxicating. His hand traveled up from her hip and caressed her breast through the fabric of her blouse and bra. Damn blouse! God-Damn Bra!
Hermione’s hands also traveled, but they traveled south whereas Harry’s had gone north. Her hands stopped to playfully tweak his nipples. Harry felt aroused, and a pang of jealousy brought on by the pinch of Hermione’s fingers: ‘If she can play with my nipples, why can’t I play with hers? Lousy Damn blouse! Lousy God‑Damn Bra!’
It was at this moment that ‘Harry, Jr.’ completely woke up. He started shouting, “Hey, hey, what about me? Don’t forget about me! I’m right down here!”
It was as if Hermione had heard the organ’s pleas. Her hands left Harry’s chest, and in a few deft moves, freed /’Harry, Jr.’/. Suddenly, as she gripped his member, Hermione stopped kissing Harry. He was about to ask her why she had stopped kissing him, when his upper brain shut down due to Hermione’s next action. She knelt in front of him. The only cognitive thought in Harry’s mind was, ‘Eep!’
The frizzy-haired witch leaned forward and tentatively licked ‘Harry, Jr.’/. He gripped the edge of the table and let out a low moan. Once again, /’Harry, Jr.’ shed a tear of joy.
“I’ve heard Lavender and Parvati talk about this, but I’ve never done it,” Hermione said as she gently stroked ‘Harry, Jr.’. “So tell me if I’m not doing it properly.”
Harry had never had this happen to him, so he had no experience in it either. But with the little experience he just received, he felt fairly confident when he asked Hermione, “There’s an improper way to do it?”
“Yes, there is. I could use my teeth,” she replied while smiling up at him.
“Point taken.”
Hermione started to orally stimulate ‘Harry, Jr.’, her head bobbed up and down while her tongue twirled this way and that over his sensitive flesh. Hermione’s deliciously warm mouth was beyond description. Her saliva coated his manhood as her tongue and lips traced every bump and vein on Harry’s shaft. Harry’s vision became blurred and his breathing labored in a short matter of time. His hands found their way into Hermione’s hair as she bobbed her head up and down rhythmically on /’Harry, Jr.’/. Just when Harry couldn’t conceive how the sensation could get any better, Hermione started humming a jaunty little tune. It was quite possible that Harry had started to gurgle out of pleasure.
Normally, when a man was in the situation that Harry was in, he wouldn’t have cared to notice what tune the woman was humming. But it was a familiar tune that had burned into Harry’s mind at an early age. It was from a film that his aunt had made him watch over and over when he was a child because the insipid Dudley liked it so. A little girl with very curly hair was the star, and the song that Hermione was humming while performing fellatio on Harry was sung by that little girl in the film. Harry couldn’t remember the entire song or the title (right now he was having trouble remembering to breathe), but he did remember one bit in particular. This bit of the song played over and over in his head as Hermione continued at her task.
“On the (something)-(something) lollipop, it’s a sweet trip to a candy shop. Where the bon-bons play, on the sunny beach…”
Harry tried desperately to get the asinine, childish song out of his head and concentrate on more important things. Things like Hermione going down on him! Damn Aunt Petunia for making him watch a movie with such a stupid song…
Then Harry felt the build up and shortly thereafter, the release. With a grunt and groan, Harry became a happy man, a very happy man as he shot his seed into Hermione’s mouth. However, Hermione wasn’t a happy woman. On the contrary, she was very unhappy. She spent the next several minutes coughing, gagging, and spitting into a waste bin. In-between various gags, coughs, and spits, she would hiss at Harry menacingly; “Next time… warn me!”
The two teens left the library and headed to the Gryffindor Common Room, only speaking once in a while. And then only talking politely about trivial and inconsequential things. After they said their ‘good-nights,’ Harry felt a bit guilty about Hermione’s discomfort; next time he would warn her so it wouldn’t happen again. Harry immediately felt hope spring up in his chest, ‘Next time!’ Hermione had clearly used the phrase “next time!”
To be continued!

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