Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor
Chapter Twenty-One: School work and oral exams
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-One: Term starts and Harry’s workload bogs him down. Thankfully a friend gives him an idea on how to relieve his stress.
The first few days of term were very stressful for Harry, to say the least. Every one of his instructors started their lessons by reiterating the fact that the seventh year students would be taking the aptly named N.E.W.T.’s in the near future. Each warned the students that this year would be particularly difficult. The professors gave a hint at just how difficult the year would be when they gave out their first assignments. Slughorn’s assignment required the students to read four lengthy chapters focusing on eight potions. The students then had to write four feet of parchment on each potion by the end of the week. McGonagall warned her students that they would have to master human transfiguration by end of the lesson on Friday. Even the usually jolly Sprout was deadly serious as she informed her students that they would be pruning the treacherous “Tithwillow Sponge-Shrub” causing a fair a number of Harry’s fellow students to shiver in fear.
The only classes that didn’t immediately overload Harry were Charms and DADA. Flitwick informed his class they would be mastering the difficult Patronus Charm. Our hero smiled triumphantly when Flitwick announced this assignment to the class with the ego-boosting comment of: “If you are having difficulty with the charm, you can talk with Mr. Potter, as he has already mastered it.”
But Harry’s pride was knocked down a little as the little professor continued: “Also, if you are concerned that you cannot focus on a happy enough thought required to cast a Patronus, take heart. I personally know of an Auror by the name of Nymphadora Tonks who was able to cast a wonderful Patronus even while being in a lasting and severe bout of depression. Clearly, if a severely depressed witch can successfully perform the charm, than it isn’t as hard as your peers, teachers, family, and politicians may have told you.”
The workload in DADA was even less than Charms. In fact, there was no workload whatsoever. When Harry and his fellow students walked into the classroom, they found this year’s instructor, a wizard by the name of Herbert Johnson-Thames, sitting behind his desk with his nose buried in a book. He didn’t bother to look up and greet the class as they entered. Nor did he even make a single sound acknowledging their presence. Hermione tried to get a response out of the wizard by walking up to the professor’s desk and introducing herself – of course she had to point out that she was Head Girl; she earned that right and she was going to do it, by Merlin. But apparently the fact that the Head Girl had just introduced herself to Johnson-Thames did not impress him. The wizard continued to stare directly at his book and disregard her existence.
Harry was starting to wonder if the professor was even alive. He hadn’t moved an inch, causing Harry to believe that Johnson-Thames must have had an aneurism right at the desk and died. But Harry’s speculation was dashed the moment the bell sounded and the professor began to read aloud from the lesson book.
“This year you … … higher spells and hexes in order to … yourself and others. Some of these spell … very difficult to … and many of you … … it incredibly difficult. But … not … . This incredibly informative book … … you how to … even the most difficult charm.”
On and on he went. He read in his odd broken way and still refused to look up from his book. Harry reckoned that Johnson-Thames must have been very nervous; that would explain the odd breaks as he spoke and why he wouldn’t look up. After about fifteen minutes of Johnson-Thames’ reading, the majority of the class began to fidget. Some of the students even began to do homework for other classes. Not that the professor seemed to care, he continued to read from the text.
“He’s just reading from the book?” Ron asked incredulously.
“It looks like McGonagall had to scrape the bottom of the barrel to get someone to teach Defense this year,” Harry sounded. “And all she could find was someone who can only read the book aloud.”
“Oh, he doing worse than just/ ‘only reading’/,” Hermione said with unhidden anger. “He’s reading the text, but for some reason, he’s skipping over all of the verbs.”
The bespectacled wizard was curious to see if his girlfriend was right. So Harry turned the pages in his book until he found the one that Johnson-Thames was reading from. Harry followed along as the professor read.
“For example, even a poorly … Shield Charm … effective against lower hexes and charms like Jelly-Legs. But a low powered Stun Hex … easily … through a poorly … Shield Charm. If you … … how to … a Shield Charm correctly, you … as well not … it at all.”
Sure enough, Johnson-Thames was dropping every single verb.
“Maybe he was hit with some sort of jinx that makes you skip over verbs?” speculated Harry.
“Or he has a phobia,” Ron hypothesized. “You know, the thought of verbs terrifies him so much that he can’t bear to read them.”
“Or perhaps he’s just a blithering idiot,” Hermione said contemptuously. It was clear she had no respect for Johnson-Thames; the wizard was wasting valuable time where Hermione could be learning something new. The idea of missing out on learning simply made her blood boil.
When the bell rang announcing the end of the lesson, Johnson-Thames simply stopped reading. He didn’t even bother to look up. All of the students waited patiently for their assignments… and waited. But the professor refused to speak. Hermione was so upset that not only had Johnson-Thames wasted a double lesson, but he didn’t hand out any homework either that she stomped to her next lesson in a huff.
Despite the fact that Harry had already mastered his Charms work and there was no DADA work, the assignments for the other classes were heavy enough that even Hermione balked at the sheer size of it.
Added onto this workload, McGonagall held true to her word. The returning class this year was so small that the professors didn’t need to break up lessons between the lower years and were able to lump all of the Houses from each year into one class. This gave McGonagall and all the other professors a lot of free time. Free time that the Headmistress used to tutor Harry and his friends.
She had spent an extra three hours everyday with Harry and his friends going over how to use basic Transfiguration in battle. The Headmistress reasoned that basic transfiguration was easy for a seventh year like Harry, but it wasn’t so easy in battle while your enemy is trying to hex you. For the first two days, Harry spent hours and hours trying to transfigure a beetle into a button while Ron, Luna, and Hermione fired off hexes at the bespectacled youth. The exercise proved very difficult. Harry had a hard time focusing on the proper incantation and wand movements while ducking and dodging his friends’ various hexes. What added to the difficulty Harry faced when trying to concentrate on the incantation was the realization that it was an utterly useless transfiguration. After all, Harry wasn’t a big fan of learning in small steps. On Wednesday, Flitwick joined McGonagall and the duo trained Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Luna how to combine Charms and Transfiguration so that they could animate objects much like Dumbledore had done when he had fought against Voldemort in the Ministry of Magic (this at least Harry found to have immediate and intrinsic benefits).
Harry’s stress was increased even further by his duties as Head Boy. Every night, he and Hermione had to patrol the halls of the castle after curfew, making sure no students were sneaking about. Every once in a while, he would see one of the Aurors that were assigned to protect Hogwarts. It felt good having the extra security.
By the fourth day, all the extra work made Harry look exhausted. His hair was a mess/ – more so than usual – and he had heavy bags under his eyes caused by lack of sleep. However, he was better off than his girlfriend. Hermione’s hair was a mess – more so than usual – /and she, too, had heavy bags under her eyes. But Harry was better off than Hermione in one aspect: he could sit down properly. Even though it had been four days since the Welcoming Feast, Hermione was still sore from the four-in-a-row shag-fest she and Harry had that night. The poor girl still had a noticeable limp. Of course, she had an ear-to-ear smile that accompanied that limp, so she wasn’t complaining.
One thing that made Harry’s days a little better was that he shared the same bed with Hermione. Mind you, they didn’t have sex because she was still sore (and he was too damn tired to perform), but it was still nice to simply cuddle and then wake up next to the woman he loved every morning.
Friday night, as Hermione patrolled the west wing looking for any students out past curfew, Harry searched the east wing, he came across Tonks’ friend and Auror-trainee, Courtney. She bounded up to the raven haired wizard and gave him a hug in greeting.
“Hiya, Courtney,” Harry said. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, this is my class’ week to patrol the castle,” she answered. “I’ve been stationed on the grounds since I got here. But this is the first time I’ve gotten the assignment to come inside. I haven’t been in here since I graduated; it feels so weird.”
“So how’s Tonks?” asked Harry.
“She’s as huge as a house and absolutely gorgeous,” Courtney answered with a big grin. “Tonks and Remus are so effing happy it’s contagious. She’s due any second now, thanks to that prank you and Hermione pulled.”
“That’s great,” Harry said with a smile.
The two began to walk down the hall and they continued their conversation.
“Oh, by the way, did anyone find out why those Death Eaters were trying to kidnap the girls from the train?” Harry asked. “Was it for a dark ritual or some form of blackmail plot against the Ministry?”
“Actually, we found out something very interesting when the prisoners were interrogated,” Courtney answered. “The girls weren’t nabbed for a ritual or for blackmail. The prisoners confirmed that You-Know-Who had no idea about the attack. Which makes sense; if he did know of the attack, he would’ve sent more than just a few of his followers.”
“Then why did they attack?” asked Harry.
“Well, according to the prisoners, You-Know-Who does a little contest every year to boost morale in his followers; it’s called/ ‘Little Miss Death Eater’,” /the Auror in training explained. “It’s basically a talent show for the Death Eaters’ daughters. The winner’s family gets a hundred galleons and a private dinner with He Who Must Not Be Named.
“Apparently, the Death Eaters who were involved in the attack on the train either didn’t have any daughters of their own, or their daughters were so ugly and untalented that they didn’t stand a chance in the competition,” Courtney continued. “These Death Eaters were so eager for their Master’s praise that they concocted a plan to kidnap a bunch of girls from the Hogwarts’ Express and pass them off as their own daughters.”
“You’re kidding,” Harry said. “They planned to kidnap children just so they could have dinner with Voldemort? They somehow found a way to break through the wards around the train and decided not to launch a full scale attack that would’ve devastated the Ministry and every witch and wizard in Great Britain. Instead, they just wanted to win a talent show?”
“Yep,” she responded. “No one ever accused Death Eaters of being the smartest bunch of people.
“Let’s change the subject to something more enjoyable than dim-witted Death Eaters,” Courtney continued. “So, have you and Hermione used all those toys I gave her?”
“Um… just two,” Harry admitted with a touch of embarrassment. He wasn’t ashamed that he and Hermione had only used two of the toys, but he was hesitant about speaking so openly about sex with Courtney.
“Which ones?” she asked. Harry didn’t immediately respond, so she gave him a playful pinch on his arm and asked again. “Which ones did you use?”
“The feather and the cuffs,” Harry said, blushing.
“Ooo, I’ve got to know; did she tie you up or did you tie her up?” Courtney asked with excitement.
“Well, she kind of tied herself up,” Harry said and felt his cheeks heat up even more.
“You mean you didn’t tie her up?” she asked.
“Well, she showed me the cuffs and told me to tap my wand on them,” he explained. “Then she told me to use the feather on her.”
“Does she tell you what to do a lot of the time? I mean when you’re being intimate?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Harry admitted. “She pretty much tells me what to do in those situations.” After a beat, he added, “Not that I mind.”
“Of course not. You’re a bloke,” Courtney commented. “But you’ve got to take the reins once in a while.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know,” Courtney continued. “Take control; be dominating once in a while.”
“What do you mean by ‘dominating’?”
/ /”Well, I’m not suggesting you tie her down and spank her…” Courtney paused dramatically before continuing. “Unless she likes that sort of thing.”
“But I like to… well, please Hermione,” Harry said, still a little shy about the topic of conversation. “She tells me what to do to make her… happy and that makes me happy, you know.”
“Yeah, it’s nice to have a girlfriend give you pointers; that way you don’t mess up,” Courtney agreed. “But it doesn’t hurt to just do it to please yourself every now and then. I mean, I’m sure if you made yourself happy, that it would please Hermione as well. Besides, most witches wouldn’t mind a wizard that takes control once in a while.”
“What would you suggest?”
“The next time you two are alone, push her on the bed and shag her rotten. Don’t light candles or play some romantic music, just tug on her hair and bang her brains out,” suggested the Auror in training. “Do something for yourself. Fulfill one of your fantasies. Have her dress up, maybe as a nun. Hell, I fulfilled my muggle-born boyfriend’s fantasy. I dressed in this weird bronze metal bikini, something he saw in a film once. Or if you want, just cum on her tits. Whatever floats your boat.”
Harry felt as if his face was on fire at Courtney’s comments. He tried to avert his eyes, but it was too late.
“You want to titty-shag her!” she exclaimed, correctly interpreting Harry’s increased discomfort. He looked around in a mild panic, worried that someone had overheard her statement. Apparently, Harry’s embarrassment only made Courtney want to rib him even further. “You want to wedge your willy between her boobs and cum on her, don’t you?”
What Harry wanted right that moment was to run away and hide; he was beyond embarrassed by Courtney’s comments. The forwardness of the witch caught him completely off guard.
“Then you should do it,” the rambunctious witch demanded. “Mount her chest and use her jugs to wank off.”
“I can’t ask her to do that,” Harry said, imaging the mortified look on Hermione’s face at the mere suggestion.
“If she has a problem with it, just tell her to lie back and enjoy the show,” Courtney argued.
“I… I dunno,” Harry said doubtfully.
“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” Courtney said, giving Harry a pat on the shoulder. “Well I’m off. Have fun with Hermione. Remember, if she’s really opposed to giving you a titty-shag, have her give you a hummer while she’s dressed up in a costume. It really can be fun!”
/As Courtney walked away humming an oddly aggressive marching tune (a tune that seemed somehow familiar to Harry; perhaps it was done by that John Williams fellow that Hermione had mentioned), /Harry pondered over her suggestions. Besides his fear of Hermione being appalled over the notion of a titty-shag, Harry doubted it could work in a practical sense. He wasn’t overly endowed and although, Hermione’s breasts were a nice handful (very nice handful at that), Harry doubted that they could get that particular fantasy to work properly. He’d imagined for that act to work that he’d need to be hung like a hippogriff and Hermione would have to be closer to Luna’s prestigious (and slightly overbearing) size.
But one thing that Courtney suggested struck a cord inside Harry;/ “Have her dress up…” /He remembered that Hermione had discussed the notion of “Role-Playing” with him when Luna used polyjuice to make love with Ron. Harry hadn’t given it much thought, but now that Courtney brought it up, it started to intrigue him. The idea of dressing up and acting like different people began to sound raunchy and exciting.
As Harry walked back to his and Hermione’s room, his mind wandered over different scenarios. Should he dress up as a criminal and Hermione as a cop who decides to interrogate criminal-Harry in new and fascinating ways? Or should they play a particularly naughty version of/ ‘Doctor’ (not that ‘playing Doctor’ /has been anything other than naughty)?
Then, like a bolt of inspiration, an image of pleated skirts entered his mind. Harry had the perfect idea! It would just take a little time to plan out and execute.
When he finally reached his room, he found Hermione already asleep and in bed. As he crawled into bed with his lover, his mind went over his plans.
*
Harry assumed that Hermione was no longer sore the next morning judging by how frisky she was. The moment he opened his eyes, the brunette witch pounced on him and began tickling him. Up until that moment, Harry hadn’t realized how ticklish he was. One could say that he was very ticklish, while others could argue that he was ridiculously ticklish and not be incorrect. While he was laughing, the raven hair wizard thrashed and tried to scoot away on the bed which led to an interesting occurrence. You see, Hermione wasn’t content with just tickling her boyfriend. No, she had to do so while completely naked. And all of Harry’s movements – the thrashing and scooting – caused his pajama bottom to be pulled down, thereby exposing his bits. And seeing how/ ‘Harry, Jr.’ /was not one to let an opportunity pass, the organ sprang to life. Within a few scant seconds of waking up, Harry found himself making love to Hermione… who was still tickling him incessantly… which just caused him to thrash about; an action which Hermione seemed to really enjoy.
It was a truly wonderful way to wake up. Maybe even better than the time she aroused Harry from his slumber with her skills in fellatio. At that particular moment, as Hermione simultaneously rode and tickled him, Harry couldn’t decide which one was the better way to wake up. Was it the tickle and shag or the straight forward blow-job? He reckoned, joyfully, that he needed to compare each of the two activities a few more times to make up his mind.
With all the jostling about, it didn’t take Harry too long to become a happy wizard. He was a little disappointed that he had reached his orgasm before Hermione did. But Hermione didn’t appear to be let down; she had a beautiful smile on her face as she leaned forward and whispered in Harry’s ear “Good morning.”
Hermione was being such a good sport about him finishing before her that Harry decided to return the favor and tickle her. He found that she wasn’t as sensitive as he was when he used the traditional and time honored technique of tickling (or at least, when not cuffed to the bed and being teased with a feather). So Harry tried a different style of tickling on a very sensitive area on his lover which brought out a very positive response out of Hermione. In other words; he finger banged her.
After all, she hadn’t orgasmed before he finished. And it was his duty and privilege as her boyfriend to make her satisfied. After she cried out in passion, it was Harry’s turn to whisper “Good morning.”
After cuddling for a few minutes, Hermione got up to take a shower. As his girlfriend washed up, Harry snuck out of the bedroom. He had to find Dobby so that the house-elf could help him. When Harry entered the outer chamber, he found Dobby about to enter the small door leading to his room.
“Hey Dobby,” Harry called out while walking up to the house-elf.
Dobby rapidly shut the door leading into his room. Before the door closed, Harry caught a glimpse of a number of shelves on the back wall of Dobby’s room. He also noticed a number of tiny glass vials filled with some kind of silver liquid placed on the shelves before the door closed.
“Yes, Harry Potter sir?” Dobby asked. The tiny creature’s voice was a little more nervous than normal, but Harry brushed it aside.
“Could you do me a favor?” Harry asked and the house-elf nearly cried with happiness at the thought of being able to help the black haired wizard.
“Anythings for you, Harry Potter sir,” Dobby squeaked.
“I need you to transfigure that bedroom,” Harry pointed to the spare room. “And I need you to create some costumes.”
Harry could’ve easily transfigured the room and conjured the necessary clothing himself. But he still wasn’t used to his heightened power and he was worried that he would mess it up and ruin it.
“What do’s you be wanting it transfigured into, sir?”
Harry spent the next fifteen minutes giving Dobby very precise instructions. He ended the conversation with another request: “Hermione can’t know about it, okay?”
The house-elf nodded his head emphatically.
Harry returned to his and Hermione’s room just in time for his girlfriend to step out of the shower. Her skin was still wet and he fought the urge to lick up her excess moisture. He wanted to save his energy for later that night. After Harry showered and dressed, he and Hermione went to the Great Hall for breakfast.
They found Ron and Luna already at the table waiting for them. A short while after they arrived, Ginny entered the Great Hall with Neville at her side. The two sat on opposite sides of the table a dozen feet away from Harry, Hermione, Luna, and Ron. Neville and Ginny didn’t even bother putting food on their plates. Instead, they began speaking to one another.
“What the hell does Neville think he’s doing?” Ron asked with his mouth full of partially chewed food. Tiny bits of his breakfast sprayed in Neville’s direction.
“He’s talking to your sister,” Luna stated. “And don’t speak with your mouth full, dear.”
“That’s not just ‘talking’,” Ron accused, dribbling some scrabbled eggs out of his mouth. “He’d wouldn’t be leaning over the table is he was just ‘talking’.”
Usually, Ron wasn’t the most observant person in the world. But Harry noticed that his red haired friend was spot on in his observation this time. Neville and Ginny were leaning over their empty plates and speaking softly to each other.
“He should watch it,” Ron threatened in between bites of kipper. “He’d better not touch my sister.”
“Why not? Many wizards have touched her before he came along,” Hermione commented under her breath so that only Harry could hear her. Harry almost choked on his juice as he fought back laughter.
Ron was, as usual, overreacting. Harry could tell by their body language that Ginny and Neville hadn’t done anything intimate. There was a nervousness about the two that gave Harry the impression that they hadn’t done much besides talk. Of course that same nervousness told Harry that both Neville and Ginny wanted to do more than talk, but each was hesitant. Harry could understand Neville’s hesitation; the young wizard was still coming out of his shyness. Ginny, on the other hand, made Harry wonder. He had her pegged as the type of witch that would just take what she wanted – much like she had tried to do when she molested him a few weeks before. Her actions during Harry’s sixth year and what she did over the summer was such a drastic change from the shy girl he knew before. For the first few years that Harry knew her, Ginny was just as shy as Neville was.
But as he watched Ginny and Neville talk, Harry came to realize something. Perhaps Ginny had acted so strangely over the past year or so as some sort of overcompensation against her shyness. Maybe she felt the need to act like a “scarlet woman” to quell her natural timidity. She could have thought that boys wouldn’t pay attention to a timid girl like her so she re-sculpted herself as a free spirit (read: slut).
Harry speculated that Ginny changed herself because she believed that other people wouldn’t like her for who she was. She must’ve felt that no one would understand her. But with Neville, another person who was just as shy, Ginny could be herself. Perhaps that’s why she hadn’t tried to molest Neville… yet.
“Did he just touch her hand?” Ron spat and began to stand up. It was clear that he wanted to stomp over to Neville and pummel him for touching his sister. Thankfully, Luna restrained her husband and forced him to sit back down.
“So what if Neville and Ginny are dating,” Harry stated. “Good for them.”
“That’s not your sister,” Ron hissed. “I have to protect her virtue!”
“You’re a little too late for that,” murmured Hermione.
“What was that?” Ron snapped.
“I said ‘you don’t have to worry about that’,” Hermione lied. “Neville’s a gentleman. He proved it when he took Ginny to the Yule Ball. And he risked his own safety trying to protect her from Draco’s thugs at the end of our fifth year. He’d never take advantage of Ginny.”
“Besides, after what happened to you and me, Ginny knows better than to go too far,” Luna pointed out. “If she did, Molly would pounce on her and force her to marry Neville.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Ron huffed.
“So you two, what are your plans today?” Luna asked Harry and Hermione.
Harry fought the urge to happily announce/ “Hermione’s not sore anymore!” /but wisely held his tongue. Such a statement would be inappropriate and would lead to another dry-spell.
“Well, I’m going to the library to study a bit,” Hermione answered. “We’re going over spell and ritual creation in Arithmancy and I want to do some work outside of the classroom.”
As she spoke, Hermione gave Harry her patented lustful and longing look. It gave him the impression that she had an itch that she wanted to scratch and had made up the story about going to the library and studying so that their friends wouldn’t know that she and Harry were going to spend the day shagging.
However, Harry must’ve misinterpreted Hermione’s look. Instead of sneaking away to make love after breakfast, Hermione led Harry to the library to study.
He was a little taken back at his mistake. He was positive that she had just given him her “shag me eyes” and he had seen them enough recently to spot them. How he mistook that look was a mystery to him. To perplex the young wizard even further, every once in a while, as Hermione read tome after tome and took very detailed notes, she would look up at him and give him that same look.
Perhaps she was trying to give him clues that she wanted to be naughty and do it in the library. Seeing how it was early Saturday morning, there were no other students around. Harry reckoned that he could do the deed without alerting Pince, the librarian. But when Harry started to kiss her, Hermione gently brushed him away.
“Not now, Harry,” she whispered with her eyes dark with lust. “I’m busy.”
“Then why are you giving me that look?” he asked.
“What look?”
“Your/ ‘come shag me’ /look,” Harry answered.
“I have a/ ‘come shag me’ /look?” she asked incredulously.
To prove his point, Harry conjured a simple hand held mirror (of course his power boost had made the mirror less simple and more ornate with jewels and intricate carvings, but he was gaining more control. When he first got his boost, he would’ve created a wall of mirrors). He held the mirror in front of his girlfriend’s face.
After examining her now mostly-green eyes, Hermione agreed; “So that’s my/ ‘come shag me’ /look.”
“Yes and you’ve been giving it to me since breakfast,” Harry pointed out.
“I’m sorry I’ve been giving you mixed signals, Harry,” Hermione apologized. “It’s just that I’ve been thinking about sex while I’m studying.”
“Okay, so let’s push these books off of the table and take care of that,” Harry suggested.
“Harry, I’ve been thinking about sex, not wanting to have sex,” Hermione clarified.
“There’s a difference?” Harry asked, completely stumped. To him, and most every male in the world, there wasn’t a difference between/ “thinking about sex” /and /”wanting to have sex.” /The two were synonymous concepts: one couldn’t think about sex and not want to do it, it just wasn’t done.
“I was going to wait to tell you what I’m doing, to see if my theories were possible first. But I’ve been studying to see if we can create new tantric rituals of our own,” explained Hermione.
“New ones? Like what?” he asked.
“Well, I believe we can make an intelligence boosting ritual. But the effects would only last a day or so. Also, I think we can do protection rituals, but it would be complex,” she stated.
“Complex in what way?” Harry asked.
“We would need to do some exercises and serious stretches before we attempt some of them or we’ll hurt ourselves,” Hermione proved her point by showing a crude drawing of two stick figures intertwined she had made sometime during her research. Harry idly noticed that Hermione’s artistic talent wasn’t that far from Gryffindor’s.
“What’s that circle thing?” he asked pointing at the drawing.
“That’s my head,” she said.
“And that circle?” he asked and pointed at another shape.
“That’s your head,” Hermione explained.
“But it looks like I’m facing away from you,” Harry pointed out.
“Yes, the upper part of your body will be turned, facing away from me,” Hermione confirmed. “Like I said; we’ll have to do some stretches before we can do these.”
“Wow,” Harry uttered as he memorized the drawing.
Hermione spent the rest of the day in the library taking voluminous notes. Harry acted as her assistant; running to fetch one book on magical theory or another. They only paused in their activities for lunch and dinner.
After supper, Harry and Hermione headed back to their rooms. Each of them was carrying a large stack of books and notes. When they entered the outer chamber, Harry saw Dobby waiting by his miniature door. The house-elf gave Harry a thumbs up signal.
Harry quickly deposited his stack in the room he and Hermione shared before dashing back to the outer chamber.
“It’s be done, Harry Potter sir,” Dobby said happily.
“Fantastic!” Harry heralded. “Do you have the costumes?”
“Yes, sir,” he squeaked.
“Great,” Harry said before rushing to one of the desks and jotting down a note. It stated:
“Hermione,
Put this on and meet me in the other room.
Love,
Harry.”
/ /He handed the note to Dobby and said “Give this, along with the girl’s costume, to Hermione, please.”
With a bright smile on his face, Dobby nodded his head and walked into the Bedroom.
Harry went into the other room and was pleased with Dobby’s work. It was almost an exact replica of one of the castle’s classrooms. A large chalkboard was on one wall and a large professor’s desk was placed in front of it. But unlike most classrooms, there was only one desk for the student.
Harry quickly stripped naked and donned his professor’s costume (a long black robe with a pointy black wizard’s hat). Once he was dressed, Harry took his seat behind the professor’s desk and opened one of the drawers. He was happy to see the object lying in the drawer just as he requested of Dobby. Harry came to the conclusion that he’d have to reward the house-elf for such a bang-up job.
A few minutes later, Hermione walked into the “classroom.” Much to Harry’s pleasure, she was wearing the outfit Dobby had made (or given Dobby’s… unique hobby, Harry hoped that Dobby had created the outfit instead of pilfering it from some schoolgirl). Hermione was wearing polished penny-loafers with knee high white socks. His eyes slowly traveled up to her blue Bedford checked pleated skirt which accentuated her lovely legs. Of course, the skirt accentuated her legs simply because of its length. Or lack thereof. The modified schoolgirl skirt barely covered Hermione’s cheeks. The light blue blouse, adorned with an unfamiliar white horse logo, was also undersized, as displayed by the amount of bare midriff and the tension on the buttons. Hermione’s bra-less state was confirmed by ‘Natasha’ and ‘Carmella’ standing at firm attention for roll call; Harry knew that the classroom couldn’t be that cold and assumed she was excited.
“Role-playing? How adventurous of you, Harry,” Hermione said with a smile. “I’m very proud.”
“Take your seat, Miss Granger,” Harry said with a chuckle. It felt odd and funny for him to refer to Hermione in such a forced and formal way.
“Yes, Professor Potter,” Hermione said with equal amusement.
“Did you forget your homework again, Miss Granger?” Harry asked after Hermione sat at her desk.
“Oh, please, Harry,” Hermione said. “Like I would forget my homework, of all people.”
“Hermione, stay in character,” Harry ordered. “You’re a bad student who forgot her homework and needs to be punished.”
“Punished how?” Hermione asked, her curiosity clearly piqued.
Instead of answering her, Harry opened his desk drawer and withdrew the small wooden paddle that Hermione had gotten from Courtney. He held the toy up in the air for Hermione to see.
“Oooo, a spanking,” Hermione cooed. “Wait a moment; let me get into character properly.”
The brunette witch pulled out her wand and waved it over her head. Her kinky hair sprang to life and began to move. A part formed in the middle of her head and her hair was pulled into two bushy pigtails on either side of her head. Her new hairstyle added with her undersized school uniform made Harry’s heart race. The whole idea of a professor seducing a student was so taboo and it excited Harry, even if it was just make believe.
“Okay, I’m ready,” she announced. “Ask me about my homework again.”
“Where’s your homework, Miss Granger?” he asked again with an overly forced sternness.
“I’m really sorry, Professor,” Hermione responded with fake sadness. “I worked on it so hard last night that my fingers got numb. I swear I finished it. But when I got up this morning, I found out that my cat ate it.”
“Miss Granger, that’s the fifth time you haven’t completed your work this month,” Harry chastised.
“Really… fifth time?” she asked, dropping out of character. “Am I that bad of a student?”
“Yes, you’re that bad,” Harry answered then went promptly back into character. “I’ve tried to convince you that you need to do your homework time and time again. And still you continue to fail. What should I do with such a terrible student?”
“Not another spanking, sir,” she pretended to plead. Even though she tried to act scared of punishment, it was evident in her voice that Hermione was more than eager for a paddling.
Harry got out of his chair and stood next to the large desk. While holding the paddle in his right hand, he pointed at his desk with his left and commanded: “Assume the position.”
Hermione walked up to the desk with a frown and her head held low in shame. Of course she couldn’t hide the happy bounce to her step. She may have been the smartest witch of their generation, but she was a dreadful actor.
The brunette witch bent over so that she was half lying on the desk and her feet were still on the ground. This position caused her too-short skirt to hitch up even further on her bum. As he examined her scarcely covered bottom, Harry hoped that Dobby had in fact created the costume. If the house-elf didn’t, that meant a preteen school girl somewhere in Great Britain was missing her school uniform because Dobby stole it.
Harry focused on his girlfriend’s bottom and started slowly by giving gentle swats to her posterior. The first five spanks were soft and light. But then he began to pick up the pace and the force. In a matter of moments, the paddle was flying and smacking her (barely) skirt covered bottom. Hermione squealed joyously as her bum jiggled and shook from the blows.
After a minute or two, Harry hoisted up her skirt to reveal her red and heated bottom. Her white knickers were visibly damp around her flower. He gently peeled off her knickers and discarded them. Once her bum was exposed, Harry returned to paddling her. The wooden toy made loud smacking sounds as it struck her unprotected skin. Hermione was moaning and purring with pleasure.
Obviously, Harry was so aroused by Hermione’s naked bottom and the eliciting sounds she was making. /’Harry, Jr.’ /was standing proudly under his robe.
Harry placed the paddle down and walked over to the side of the desk so that he was standing in front of Hermione’s face. He gestured to the bulge in the front of his robes and scolded: “Look at what you have done, Miss Granger. Get on your knees and take care of this.”
/”‘Take care of this’?” /Hermione asked with a snort of laughter. “Did you get that line from a porno?”
“Yes, a very bad porno that had the audacity to try to have an actual plot,” Harry said. “Now take care of it.”
“Yes, Professor.”
Hermione hopped off the desk and knelt in front of Harry. The raven haired wizard quickly pulled his robe off and tossed it to the side. Amazingly enough, his tall pointy hat remained on his head somehow so that he was standing in front of Hermione completely naked save for that silly hat.
The witch licked her lips before opening her mouth and swallowing his organ. As she bobbed back and forth, Harry acted on a naughty compulsion; he grabbed hold of her pigtails. He wondered idly as he held onto her pigtails as if they were handlebars if Courtney had been speaking literally or figuratively when she had told him that he should/ “take the reins once in a while.”/
A few moments later, Harry ordered “Lie on the desk, Miss Granger.”
He helped Hermione stand and then guided her onto the desk. He was a gentleman after all even if he was playing a stern professor. Harry crawled up on the desk and kissed her neck while he unbuttoned her blouse. Slowly, he trailed kisses down her neck, over the swell of her breasts, down her tummy, until he got to her skirt. With one swift motion, Harry tugged the pleated skirt off and Hermione squealed in surprise.
Before she got a chance to react, Harry dove at her flower. Once again, he easily activated his parselmouth magic and tapped into his love core and began to eat her out.
“Oh… oh… yes Harry,” Hermione moaned out.
“No, that is not the proper manner to address me, Miss Granger,” Harry sternly informed her after effortlessly switching to English. “Call me ‘Professor Potter’,”
“I’m so sorry, Professor Potter,” Hermione pled. “Please, Professor, please lick me.”
Satisfied that Hermione had returned to character, Harry triggered his special ability and returned to his cunnilingus. He lapped, licked and suckled on every centimeter of her flower. The witch was flowing in no time. He continued to stimulate her even after she cried out and flooded his mouth. Her fingernails scraped against his scalp when she grabbed fistfuls of his hair and knocked off his hat.
“M-mo-more,” Hermione panted. “I… n-n-need m-more. W-want you inside… Professor, p-p-lease. I’m a b- bad student. I need more… I… I w-w-want you inside… Please.”
Harry ignored her pleas and continued to work his magic on her flower. He kept his hands busy by gently massaging her red and swollen bottom. Hermione was groaning as he twirled his tongue inside her. A few moments later another orgasm struck Hermione.
Now Harry reckoned it was time. He once again crawled on top of his girlfriend and gently pushed his way into her. She purred into his ear, “Yes, Professor, I’m a bad student… teach me how to be good.”
“That sounds like it came from a bad porno,” Harry commented.
“Is there such a thing as a good porno?” Hermione asked rhetorically.
The two shared a chuckle and Harry began to move. Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist as Harry took her hands in his.
Another wicked thought occurred to Harry as he slowly pumped. He remembered when he used Pleasure Pressure Points on Hermione and accidentally brought her to orgasm during Bill and Fleur’s wedding and he felt devilishly compelled to repeat his actions. While still sliding back and forth, Harry began to rub his thumb on the back of Hermione’s hand.
Much like his skill had grown with activating his parseltongue abilities, Harry had become more adept at tapping into his love core since the first time he used Pleasure Pressure Points on Hermione. In fact, he had reached into his love core quicker and deeper than he had at Bill and Fleur’s wedding. It was so powerful that Hermione climaxed a few seconds after Harry began applying his magic to her.
But she did not call out her usual phrase of “SWEET BABY MEAVE!” when she climaxed. No, this time Hermione shouted “THAT’S CHEATING!” when she erupted.
Harry paused and let his girlfriend ride out her ecstasy. After she had caught her breath, he asked in a jovial way “I’m sorry, would you like for me to stop /’cheating’, /as you put it?
“Hell no!” she growled. “Keep doing that. Cheat some more!”
“Call me/ ‘Professor Potter’ /again and I’ll see what I can do,” Harry said roguishly.
“Please, make me cum, Professor Potter,” purred Hermione.
“Oh, that’ll work,” he said before he continued to make love to Hermione and use the Pleasure Pressure Points on her.
If someone were to walk by the room that Harry and Hermione were using, they would’ve assumed that a wild beast was being held against its will and was struggling violently versus the chains that bound it. In other words, Hermione was literally howling she was in so much pleasure.
Just as he was about to become a happy wizard, Harry stopped.
“What’s… wrong?” Hermione panted. “You… didn’t… finish… yet…”
“I… ah… well…” stammered Harry. He was trying to tell her about his fantasy. But his fear and doubt was holding him back. “I… want… to…. um…”
“Harry, what is it?” Hermione asked, her voice full of concern. “What do you want?”
“Well…” despite his best effort, Harry couldn’t bring himself to vocalize his thoughts. So instead, he reached forward and gently pushed Hermione’s breasts together, hoping that she’d get the clue.
“You want to play with my titties?” she asked.
“Sort of,” he said nervously.
“Harry, you can tell me anything,” she said sweetly. “I won’t get mad.”
“You promise?”
“Of course I do,” she replied.
“Well, I kind of want to use your boobs… in a special way…” he said vaguely.
Cocking her eyebrow, Hermione speculated “You want to wedge your penis in between my breasts?”
“Yes,” Harry admitted weakly.
Hermione chewed on her lip for a second before saying “Why not.”
“Really?”
“Yes, why not,” Hermione added while still panting slightly. “I’ve had more than my share of fun today… thanks to your ‘cheating’. Why not let you do something for yourself. Beside, I hear semen is good for the skin; tightens the pores. Not that I’m planning on replacing my moisturizer with your seminal fluid. That would just be wrong.”
Harry barely contained his happy laughter as he crawled up Hermione’s body. He knelt so that his knees were on either side of her ribcage. Hermione then pushed her breasts together and enveloped his penis. Much to his ecstatic surprise, Harry’s assumptions of not being able to do the act due to Hermione’s smaller breasts and his average size were proved false. He awkwardly began sliding back and forth. Harry had been so close before he stopped that he didn’t last long. In just a few moments, Harry came.
Hermione squealed when his white goo shot out from in between her titties. His seed landed on her neck and chin. The brunette witch smiled as she made a show of rubbing the mess into her skin. An act that held Harry’s interest for quite some time.
“Did you like that?” Hermione asked after Harry curled up against her. Her eyes were so full of love that Harry had to smile.
“Yeah,” Harry breathed out. “I did.”
“Good,” Hermione cooed and she cuddled even closer to her lover. “I’m glad I made you happy.”
To Be Continued
Author’s Notes: Thanks to Ultimate Auror for helping with some of the dialog in this chapter.

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Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor
Chapter Twelve: Typical First Date Jitters
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 Twelve Summary: Harry receives some letters. And Ron goes on a date. Taking his recent luck with witches into consideration, what will go horribly wrong with the date?
The day after the trio destroyed the Horcrux-cup, Harry, Hermione, and Ron were sitting in the empty Great Hall eating breakfast and discussing the possible locations of the other relics.
“One down and four to go, including Voldemort,” Hermione said while checking off “Hufflepuff’s cup” from the list she had laid out next to her morning meal.
“Which one do we go after next?” asked Ron with his mouth full of kippers.
“If any,” Harry began after swallowing his food, “we should find the locket. That one shouldn’t have any sort of traps around it. The other Horcruxes will most likely have a bunch of wards and traps around them, if the fake locket’s placement was any indicator. And the last one is Voldemort himself; we have to save him for last.”
“Well, it should be easy enough to retrieve the locket,” stated Hermione. “All we have to do is get Borgin to tell us who he sold to locket to, and then simply convince the new owner to give it to us.”
“Oh, yeah; real easy,” Ron said snidely. “I can see Borgin just giving us that information.”
“We’ll just have to come up with a plan, won’t we?” Hermione replied.
“Let’s hope you come up with a better idea than /’Hi I’m Draco’s girlfriend; could you tell me what he was talking to you about?’/” Harry said sarcastically causing Hermione to blush at the memory.
“That one wasn’t one of your better plans,” Ron added.
“I… I was pressed for time,” Hermione weakly defended.
/”‘Pressed for time’/?” Harry prodded. “This coming from the witch who formulated a very complex plan to trap an unregistered aninamagus reporter and then blackmailed her into not writing for a year unless it was beneficial to us.”
“And let’s not forget,” Ron added, “that you were able to tell a lie, and a fairly convincing one at that, to explain why Harry and me were in the girls’ bathroom fighting that troll right there on the spot.”
“Let’s talk about the unknown Horcrux or the missing one, shall we?” Hermione said rapidly, obviously hoping to change subjects from her unusual behavior and actions from the previous year.
“Fine then, spoil our fun,” kidded Ron.
“The Horcrux were able to find but unable to identify is under the orphanage where Riddle grew up,” explained Hermione. “We couldn’t see what it was in our vision since it was covered. Whatever it is, it mostly is another relic, probably either Ravenclaw or Gryffindor.”
“What does it matter?” asked Ron. “We know where it is; why should we care which founder it belonged to. Let’s just go, get it, and cut it up.”
“Good point,” agreed Hermione. “Let’s move onto the missing Horcrux-”
“It’s me,” interrupted Harry. During Hermione and Ron’s short conversation on the orphanage-Horcrux, Harry’s blood had run cold.
“It’s you?” asked Ron.
“Yeah. When we did the ritual, the first thing I saw was my body lying on the bed,” Harry explained sadly. “That means I must be the missing Horcrux.”
Ron dropped his head as Harry’s words sunk in. However, Hermione was smiling brightly, as if her boyfriend hadn’t just implied that he would need to sacrifice himself to kill Voldemort.
“And how did Voldemort make you a Horcrux?” Hermione asked calmly.
“It was probably an accident when he killed my mum,” snapped Harry. He didn’t like that his girlfriend was taking this revelation so lightly.
“So when Voldemort killed your mother, he accidentally removed a fragment of his own soul and placed it into you,” Hermione repeated. “All it takes to make a Horcrux is to kill someone?”
“I dunno,” Harry responded with bitterness.
“So you’re saying that Voldemort has only killed six people in his life,” continued Hermione.
“What? Are you crazy?” hollered Ron. “He’s killed loads of people!”
“Yeah, Dumbledore even said that he killed enough people to make an army of Infiri,” added Harry. He was a bit perplexed by Hermione’s statement; how could she think that Voldemort, the most feared Dark Wizard of their time only killed six people?
“But you said that he accidentally made you a Horcrux when he killed Lily,” explained Hermione. “If making a Horcrux was as simple as killing someone, he’d have a lot more than just seven Horcruxes if we including his own body.”
“What do you mean?” a very confused Harry asked.
“I don’t know how a Horcrux is created, but there must be a very complex spell or ritual needed,” explained Hermione. “Think of it; if creating a Horcrux was as simple as using a Killing Curse, Voldemort would have divided up his soul hundreds of times. If it was that easy, every single Death Eater would have dozens of Horcruxes themselves. No, there has to be some sort of complex ritual associated with it. Otherwise, every single Dark Wizard in history would have had scores of Horcruxes, wouldn’t they?”
“But that doesn’t explain why our spirits were just floating over our bodies when we did that ‘locate missing items’ ritual,” Harry argued.
“Harry, when we were just floating up there, what exactly were you focused on?” asked Hermione. “Was it the Horcruxes?”
Harry paused and tried to remember what he was thinking of when he and Hermione’s spirits had been hovering in mid-air. After a second of silence, Hermione crossed her arms across her chest. However, she didn’t cross them in her usual manner. Normally, when she crossed her arms, Hermione would place them around the middle of her chest. But this time, she placed her arms across the lower part of her chest, causing her arms to push up her wondrous mounds. Harry immediately lost his train of thought and simply stared at her boobs with his mouth open.
They were such lovely things, all round, soft, and warm. They also had ‘Carmella’ and ‘Natasha’ on them which Harry so enjoy playing with. His mouth began to water at just the thought of fondling her breasts and caressing them while he placed gentle kisses on her flesh.
“You were focused on her tits?” Ron asked, noticing Harry’s stare. Apparently, Harry had become so mesmerized by Hermione’s boobs, and Hermione had enjoyed teasing Harry so much, that a good amount of time had passed since Hermione had posed her question.
Harry shot up – he had hunched over the table in an attempt to get closer to Hermione’s boobs- and Hermione dropped her arms. Both of them were blushing madly. Ron chuckled at his friends’ embarrassment and picked up another kipper.
“Ahem, anyway…” Hermione continued as if she hadn’t just partially fondled her own breasts to arouse her boyfriend in front of her platonic friend. “You weren’t focused on the Horcruxes at the time, so we were just in a sort of holding pattern, if you will. Once we both concentrated on the actual items, we started the search.”
“But that still doesn’t make sense,” added Harry. “We only found four of them.”
Hermione worried her lip and thought for a moment before stating; “Maybe we’ll have to do the ritual again and check our findin-”
“OKAY!” Harry shouted gleefully. Any opportunity to frolic with Hermione was good enough for Harry. He shot out of his chair and offered, “How about now? Let’s do it now!”
With a look, Hermione indicated Ron, who was looking at the couple as if they were very strange and that he didn’t really understand them. The thought of Hermione’s delicate hands wrapped around ‘Harry, Jr.’ enticed Harry so much that he had forgotten about Ron. With a shrug of her shoulders, Hermione told Harry that she couldn’t do the ritual and give him a hand-job (which was significantly more important than the ritual in Harry’s mind) if Ron was around. In a split second, Harry came up with an ingenious plan that couldn’t fail. He would definitely get that hand-job now!
“Do you want to fly my Firebolt?” Harry asked Ron much like someone would ask a dog if they wanted a bone. The Ron/dog analogy was further strengthened when Ron sat up in his chair with his tongue practically hanging out of his mouth in anticipation. “Do you?” repeated Harry. “Do you?”
In response, Ron nodded his head rapidly and passionately. Harry figured if his friend had a tail, it would’ve been wagging back and forth right then.
“Then, go get it!” Harry said and pointed in the general direction of the Gryffindor Tower and his Firebolt.
Ron sprinted out of his chair and ran full tilt out of the Great Hall. The gangly teenager fell twice, tripping on his large feet before he made it successfully out of the Hall.
“Well, I guess we can do the ritual now,” Hermione said with a bemused smile and a glow to her cheeks.
“What ritual?” asked Harry. He had gotten rid of Ron so that Hermione could play with – “Oh, yeah, right, the ritual,” finished Harry as he finally remembered that there was a ritual that required Hermione to give him a hand-job.
“You know, I’ll have to find a ritual that has you give me pleasure,” stated Hermione as she stood up.
Harry closed his eyes and imagined a snake before saying in Parsletongue, “I thought I already found one?”
Hermione shivered at Harry’s hissing words. She composed herself and conceded, “Well, there is that one.”
Harry held out his hand and Hermione took it. But before they could head off to a secluded area, Hedwig flew into the Great Hall.
“Oh, here comes Luna’s reply,” Hermione said as Hedwig landed in front of Harry. “Do you mind if we read this before we do the ritual?”
“No… not at all,” Harry responded, forcing the little voice in his head that demanded “//HAND//- //JOB/ //NOW//!”/ to the back of his mind. “Knowing Ron, he’ll be on the Firebolt until dinner.”
Hermione smiled at Harry and removed the post from Hedwig’s leg and read aloud.
“Dear Hermione,
I would so love to meet with you. I will be at my father’s printing press shop (the barn behind our house) later today. Please stop by whenever you can. Just use the floo and say The Quibbler.
Luna”
/”That’s great,” announced Harry. “We’ll head there right after the ha… ritual,” Harry had to fight to say /”ritual” instead of “hand-job.”
/ /”I’m certain all you care about is using the ritual to locate the Horcruxes,” joked Hermione. It was obvious that she knew what Harry’s slip truly meant.
“Of course I am,” Harry said. “If there was another way to find the locations of the Horcruxes besides the ha… the ritual, I would do it.”
“That’s good, because I found another ritual the other day that doesn’t require us to get naked or even touch each other. It was in an innocent book in the library,” Hermione said and began to stroll out of the Great Hall.
It was like someone had slapped Harry hard in the face. Here he was, all happy about getting a hand-job, he had even devised a plan to get Ron out of the way, but now he wasn’t going to get it. Harry felt very, very sad. He looked after his girlfriend with his mouth opening and closing mutely, as he tried to force himself to tell her that he wasn’t serious about doing any other ritual besides the one that included a hand-job. But he was too sad to even speak.
“I’m just kidding, you know,” Hermione said with a naughty grin.
Harry was offended; how could she do this to him! Tempt him with a hand-job and then take it away, then to claim that she was joking. He had half a mind to give a good talking to her about teasing him…
Then, for the third time in Harry’s memory, Hermione licked her hand, and that same half of a mind that wanted to chastise her suddenly started making very faint mewing sounds.
“Here, boy, do you wanna play?” Hermione playfully asked. Apparently, she too thought that Harry had treated Ron like a dog and decided to give Harry a taste of his own medicine. “Do you want little Hermione to give you a hand-job? Do you?” she mocked.
Of course, Harry really didn’t care that his girlfriend was pretending that he was a dog. All he cared about was the offered hand-job. He skipped like a school boy over to Hermione. She gently patted his groin with her now damp hand and said, “You do want one don’t you?”
“Damn right I do,” Harry replied with absolutely no shame.
“Have you been a good boy?” she asked. Harry detected a hint of/ “naughty-Hermione”/ in both her tone and her eyes, so he figured that he would reply in a manner that “naughty-Hermione” should appreciate.
“Hell no,” he breathed. “I’ve been bad.”
“Really? Just how bad?” Hermione inquired and began to rub ‘Harry, Jr.’ through his trousers.
“V-v-very,” Harry answered while simultaneously gulping and squeaking.
Hermione got up on her toes and took Harry’s lower lip between her teeth and growled as she playfully tugged at his mouth and gave his crotch a proper squeeze. ‘Harry, Jr.’ sprang to life and begged Harry to do the ha… the ritual right there at the Gryffindor table so that it could play right now.
Stroking his length through his trousers, Hermione let go of Harry’s lip and purred; “You are a bad boy, aren’t you?” The mixed look of love, lust, and desire in her eyes made Harry almost climax right there in his boxers.
Harry considered agreeing to ‘Harry, Jr.’ and do the ha… the ritual right at the Gryffindor table, but he realized that even though Ron was preoccupied, many other people could walk in on them (including McGonagall, who had already witnessed the pre-show a few days before due to Hermione’s behavior under the effects of the super-Cheering Charm). So Harry had to force himself to wait just a little longer for the ha… the ritual. But that didn’t mean he had to walk slowly to his room. No, he had every intention of grabbing Hermione’s hand and running, much like Ron had, out of the Great Hall. Though he planned on not tripping as much as Ron did.
The fully aroused wizard grabbed the naughty witch’s hand (her free one mind you; the one rubbing ‘Harry, Jr.’ could stay right where it was) and turned to the doors leading out of the Great Hall. The pressure in his trousers and the need to have Hermione’s hands on his naked flesh was intense that he didn’t think he could wait for the time it took to make it to the Common Room; so he opted to head toward a nearby broom closet.
Readying himself for his run, Harry took two steps and stopped when he saw a flock of owls fly in. Nearly a dozen owls, all different shapes, sizes, and colors swooped in and landed all around Harry and Hermione (except for one; one of the smallest owls Harry had ever seen – even smaller than Pigwidgeon – landed on his trouser-encased erect organ like a perch). This was not the time to have a bunch of owls land around Harry; he needed to get the ha… the ritual. Not that he cared about finding the Horcruxes. To hell with that! He wanted to cum… and hopefully it wouldn’t get in Hermione’s eyes this time. Harry was about to jump over the ring of birds (and knock the one off of /’Harry, Jr.’/) and drag Hermione behind him when all the owls stuck a leg out at Harry; offering him the different posts. Every one of the envelopes and scrolls was addressed to him.
“What the hell?” Harry asked no one in particular. He had never gotten this much post at one time in his whole life and here was ten letters just for him. Each one was written in a different hand, two or three look feminine while the others were definitely masculine. Hermione reached for the post attached to the small owl on Harry (after she retrieved the letter, she shooed the bird off of Harry’s organ and he could’ve sworn he heard his girlfriend mutter to the owl /”Get off of that; it’s mine!”/). She unfolded the letter, which Harry assumed was from a woman judging by the style it was written, and began to read aloud;
“My Lovely Potter,
I went there to kill you, for your actions against my lord and master. I had hated you but you showed me nothing but love. When I’m released from this prison, I shall find you and repay you with the most tender and loving of kisses.
With eternal Love;
Persephone Cucumber-Smythe”
/ /”What the hell is this!” Hermione exclaimed and tossed the paper away. “It’s a love letter.”
“So?” replied Harry. He wasn’t really paying attention to the letters; no, his main focus was the soon to be occurring ha… ritual.
“It’s a love letter from one of the Death Eaters who attacked us,” explained Hermione as she reached down and grabbed another post. This one was obviously written by a man. It was still elegantly written, but it definitely lacked the woman’s touch;
“Dearest Potter,
/ I know you only have eyes for Draco…” /Hermione began to read aloud.
“Hey!” objected Harry.
“…but perhaps, just maybe, you’ll be able to find a place in your heart for another dark wizard.
I want to feel your breath on my-”
/Then Hermione abruptly stopped, turned very pale, and silently crumpled the parchment up. Harry had no idea what the next word in the letter was but he knew by Hermione’s reaction that it was bad. /’Harry, Jr.’ was also starting to get scared; that is to say the raging hard-on that had been threatening to rip Harry’s trousers open subsided slightly.
But curiosity got the better of our hero and Harry grabbed another post. This time, Harry could tell it was from a rather uneducated man because, whereas the previous letters were written with elegant joined letters, this one was written by an obvious brute of a man. It looked like he had held the quill in his fist much like a toddler would hold a crayon. With more than a little difficulty, Harry was able to read it;
“Potter,
I want to plow into you bum. Make you my wizard.
Edgars.”
/ /Harry dropped the offending piece of parchment and completely lost the last remains of his erection. “How… what… why… to me?” Harry babbled incoherently.
“It must be you love-based magic,” stated a still pale faced Hermione. “When you hit them with your super-Stunner, they must’ve felt love, just like Ron said.”
Bile crept up Harry’s throat; he had no idea that his powers could affect people in such a way. Would every single Death Eater that Harry fought fall in love with him? If so, how could he fight his enemies without them coming on to him later? Those thoughts made his head spin and his body cold. He felt as if he was about to faint – he’d been doing that a lot lately/./
/ /But, the moment that Harry started to get tunnel vision, the posts began to change color. They changed from their off-white parchment to the familiar bright red of a Howler. Faster than Harry could react, all the now red posts blew up and the thunderous laughter of two people filled the Great Hall. While Hermione and Harry vainly tried to block out the loud laughter, Harry was able to recognize one of the two voices emanating from the Howlers. He wasn’t able to recognize the male at first, but he was able to guess to whom it belonged if only because he could tell that the female voice belonged to a certain pink haired witch.
“Remus and Tonks,” Harry growled.
The laughter ended and the male voice started to speak;
“I wish I could be there to see the look on you face Harry,” Remus Lupin’s voice sounded. “I’m sure it’s very similar to the way Hermione looked when she read that pamphlet at the reception.”
“Love power,” Tonks snorted in the background. Harry suddenly remembered that she had been in McGonagall’s office the day before. She must have overheard their discussion on whether or not the Death Eaters that Harry had stunned had felt love.
“Now, we’ll be waiting for your retaliation,” taunted Remus’ voice. “But I’ll have to warn you; the two of you – or three if you include Ron – will have to step it up and come up with a better idea than /’let’s spike their tea’/. I’m a Marauder after all.”
And with that, the voice of Remus and the laughter of Tonks ended.
Harry could feel a vein in his temple throb with rage and he could see Hermione’s eye twitch angrily. It was bad enough that Remus and Tonks had made him think that a number of burly Death Eaters wanted to bugger him, but what really bothered him was that there would be no way now that Hermione was going to be in the mood to give Harry a hand-job. She was obviously too angry to do it anymore (Harry was upset as well, but he was a teenaged wizard and he, by nature of being a teenaged wizard, was always in the mood for any form of activity where he got to be nude with his girlfriend, regardless of his mood). So, not only did Remus and Tonks make him believe that he would lose his virtue to a big, hairy Death Eater (other than Bellatrix), they, and this was the most important fact in Harry’s mind, took away an opportunity for a hand-job.
For that, they would pay!
*
Having lost the desire to give /’Harry, Jr.’ /a nice long handshake, Hermione suggested that she and Harry go to Luna’s and see if she’d be willing to go on a date with Ron. As Harry and Hermione made their way to the Headmistress’ office to use the floo, a thought occurred to Harry. He found it very ironic that he and his girlfriend were trying to hook Ron up on a date with Luna when he and Hermione had never actually gone on a date themselves. He voiced his observations to Hermione who paused.
“Well then we’ll just have to treat this as a double date,” Hermione concluded after a second of thinking. “A first date for both couples.”
Hermione walked up the moving staircase and entered the office with Harry right behind her. She moved to the fireplace and threw some floo powder in. After stepping in, she announced “The Quibbler!” and disappeared.
Harry followed Hermione through the floo… and promptly crashed onto the floor. Hermione had learned from Ron’s mistake of trying to catch Harry and had wisely decided to step out of Harry’s path.
“Hullo,” Luna greeted them while Harry stood and brushed the soot off of his robes. “Welcome to the Quibbler.”
“Hello Luna,” both Harry and Hermione returned the greeting.
“I’m sorry I can’t show you the printing press at work,” Luna said and gestured to a large contraption behind her that had a number of bells and whistles on it – literally. The press had dozens of bells of various sizes and several steam whistles, whatever purposes they served, Harry couldn’t even begin to imagine. “But Daddy and Neville are off on a fact finding mission in Burma, and the press is down until they come back.”
“Your father and Neville?” Harry asked with a bit of apprehension. He remembered that Luna and Neville had spent a good amount of time together last year. Harry was now wondering just how close the two of them had gotten.
“Oh yes,” Luna glowed. “Neville’s so knowledgeable about plants. He went along to find out what kinds of vegetation Snorkacks eat.”
“Really?” Hermione asked with fake sincerity. She, too, just realized that their plan to get Luna to date Ron may be moot, because it was starting to look like she was already with Neville. “Um… tell me, Luna, um… are you, well, seeing anyone?” Hermione asked nervously.
Luna stared at Hermione with her big blue eyes for a full second then blinked slowly and stared at her again for another two seconds before she answered. “I’m sorry, Hermione, but I’m not a lesbian,” Luna said. Harry and Hermione stared at the blonde witch in shock. Apparently, Luna misinterpreted Hermione’s question as a come on; Luna thought that Hermione was hitting on her. “But if I did play for the other team, you’d be the third or fourth witch I’d want to bed,” Luna concluded.
“That’s not what I meant,” Hermione blurted out, her shock apparent on her face. But then, as if someone had flicked a switch, Hermione’s expression changed from shock to outrage. “‘Third or fourth’?” Hermione screeched in offence. She began to examine herself as if there was something wrong with the way she looked. Harry could’ve told her that wasn’t the case, seeing as she was absolutely perfect in his eyes. “It’s my tits, isn’t it?” she asked nervously. “They’re too small…”
“Personally, I love them,” Harry whispered in her ear. He was very tempted to show her how much he loved her boobs right then and there in front of Luna by giving them a squeeze.
“I figure that if I were gay, I’d be a big butch fan,” admitted Luna. “I’d reckon that mullets would be attractive.” After a moment of internal musing, Luna concluded, “Yes, I imagine that if I were indeed gay, that my lovers would have to have mullets; it’s such a unique hairstyle after all.”
Hermione pouted and Harry wondered who the two or three other witches were that Luna had placed before Hermione.
“You misunderstood me,” Hermione began again, forcing herself past the awkward situation and to focus on the task at hand. “I was wondering if you and Neville were an item.”
“No,” Luna replied simply and continued to stare at Hermione for a good three seconds before continuing. “But why would you like to know that? Oh, you want to set me up for a date. Did you want to set me up on a date with Harry?” she asked as if Harry wasn’t standing right behind Hermione.
“No,” Hermione said defensively, placing her hand on Harry’s hip as if to say he was her property – which was the case. “We were wondering if you would be interested in going on a date with Ron.”
Harry could tell that Luna was in fact very interested. Her entire face lit up, a cute little smile graced her lips, and her eyes twinkled. She shyly pushed a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear and said, “Yes, I would like that. Very much.”
“Brilliant!” exclaimed Hermione. “Would you mind if Harry and I go on a double date with the two of you? It’ll be the first date for all of us.”
“That would be nice,” Luna said with a glow to her cheeks.
“Now, I have to warn you,” Hermione stated. “Ron has had some problems lately…”
“What kind of problems?” Luna asked with genuine concern.
“Scary girl problems,” Harry said cryptically and shuddered at the memory of Bellatrix’s incredibly hairiness, the off handed comment Mrs. Weasley made regarding how to aim, and the nude wrestling match featuring his own sister.
“Oh,” the blonde witch muttered.
“But I have a plan that’ll help Ron forget his problems,” Hermione added. “But we just wanted you to know, in case he acts a little strange at first.”
“I happen to like strange,” Luna said and her cute little smile grew.
“How about meeting at the Leaky Cauldron tomorrow night, around five in the evening?” suggested Hermione.
“I’ll see you then,” Luna said and skipped away happily.
*
The next day, Hermione had shut herself in her room for the better part of the morning and afternoon. While Harry and Ron passed the time with a brutal game of chess (brutal for Harry that is) a pungent smell wafted down from the girl’s wing.
“What’s she doing up there?” inquired Ron after his Queen decided to show how superior it was by violating one of Harry’s Knights instead of simply smashing it. The horse-piece whinnied as Harry idly thought that Ron’s Queen must have believed herself to be Catherine the Great.
“I dunno,” replied Harry, in a mild state of shock, as he watched Ron’s Queen light up a tiny cigarette as it stood over Harry’s poor Knight. “Maybe she’s making a potion or something.”
At a quarter of five, Hermione finally walked down from her dorm and into the Common Room.
“Let’s go out for dinner tonight,” Hermione offered and tucked a glass vial into her robes.
“That’ll be great!” agreed Ron.
Harry eyed his girlfriend suspiciously. He believed that his speculation about her making a potion all day was true because of the vial she had in her robes and wondered what kind of potion it was. After Ron led the way out of the Common Room, Hermione gave Harry a wink and a sly grin.
“So, where should be go?” asked Ron when the trio entered McGonagall’s office.
“The Leaky Cauldron,” answered Hermione.
“That’s great,” Ron said gleefully. “I heard Tom’s making ice-cream now. I can’t wait to try some.”
“NO!” Hermione and Harry shouted in unison. The taste of Tom’s horrible ice-cream still sent shivers up their spines.
After using the floo to travel to the Cauldron, the three teens headed to an empty booth (that is after they picked Harry up off of the ground and repaired the table he had crashed into). But before they sat down, Hermione said, “There’s Tom. I have to speak to him for a second.”
Hermione approached the bald tavern man and spoke to him in a very animated way. She gestured back to the booth where Harry and Ron where sitting and pointed directly at Ron. She then handed Tom the glass vial and he nodded knowingly.
With a smile of accomplishment, Hermione returned to their table. Harry felt that she was putting on a show for some reason, but couldn’t tell why.
A very short while later, Tom showed up at the table and handed the friends three pints of butterbeer. Hermione pointed nonchalantly at Ron’s pint in a questioning way and Tom gave her a quick nod in response.
Before Harry could ask what his girlfriend was up to, Hermione raised her butterbeer and gave a toast. “Here’s to friends!” she announced.
Ron and Harry clinked their glasses with Hermione’s and drank to friendship. Harry set his pint down and noticed that Ron had downed half of his butterbeer in a single gulp; apparently Ron was thirsty.
Again, Harry was about to ask Hermione why she was acting in such a strange manner when she spoke up.
“Ron, we have a confession to make,” Hermione said in an undertone. “Harry and I have set you up on a blind date.”
“What? When?” Ron sputtered nervously.
“Tonight,” Hermione answered. “With Luna.”
“Looney!” Ron groaned.
“I thought you said that she grew on you?” Hermione said, upset that Ron was using that rude nickname.
“Yeah, she did,” Ron wrung his hands uneasily. “It’s just that with all the… problems I’ve been having lately, couldn’t you have set me up with the Patil twins instead?”
Hermione rolled her eyes in a disappointed way while Harry nodded his head, as if he were saying “See I told you.”
“Besides,” Ron continued. “I don’t think I’m up to dating just now.”
“Except if it was the Patil twins, right?” asked Harry.
“Oh, of course,” acknowledged Ron.
“It doesn’t matter if you’re not up to it,” Hermione stated, obviously trying her best to ignore Harry and Ron’s comments about twins. “I made a mild Lust potion earlier today, and I just had Tom pour it in your butterbeer.”
“What?” demanded Harry as Ron gulped anxiously and stared at his half-drunk pint.
“But this isn’t like that simple little potion that Ginny slipped me,” Hermione stated proudly. “No, I made this potion specifically keyed so that there would be an attraction between Luna and yourself, and only between you two. I knew that you’d probably have some difficulty with dating given your recent… adventures, so I decided to help you overcome them.”
“You spiked his drink with a Lust Potion?” Harry asked with shock.
Tiny beads of sweat popped up all over Ron’s brow.
“Just a mild one,” Hermione explained and discreetly gave Harry a wink. “It’s just going to help him along.”
Before Harry could think about what the wink meant, Luna Lovegood walked up to the table.
“Hullo, Ronald,” she said dreamily. Harry’s jaw dropped open as did Hermione’s. Luna had spent a lot of time making herself up for this date, and it showed. Her hair was tied up in a pretty bun and she had just a touch of eye-shadow that accentuated her blue eyes. She wore a baby blue robe and hugged her body and showed something that Harry had never noticed before about Luna.
She was stacked.
Apparently, Luna had always been previously dressing in unflattering robes that would hide her large breasts, but she had obviously chosen this set of robes to show them off. And boy did she ever.
“They’re huge,” Harry heard Hermione muttered and saw that his girlfriend’s eyes were fixed on Luna’s large mounds.
“H-h-h-hello Luna,” Ron squeaked as he looked into her eyes – and as mentioned before, when a bloke says he’s looking in a girl’s eyes, he means he’s looking at her boobs. Luna giggled and proudly shoved her chest up, causing both Harry and Ron to audibly gulp.
Luna sat down and greeted Harry and Hermione. “Hullo, you two.”
“Hi, Luna,” Harry returned the greeting, amazed at how Luna’s breasts rested on the table top. ‘How can such a small witch have such big boobs?’ Harry wondered internally. To him, it looked like someone had stuck two grapefruits to a twig.
“They’re huge,” Hermione repeated dazedly.
After a moment of silence, Ron was able to tear his eyes away from Luna’s orbs and look at her properly. He gulped and spoke softly to large-chested blonde. “Luna, I have to warn you about something. Hermione spiked my drink.”
“She spiked your drink? What with?” Luna asked with her eyebrows knitted.
“A Lust Potion; one that will work only between you and me. She says she did it to help me get over my nervousness,” explained Ron.
Luna eyed Ron’s tainted pint for a moment, and then suddenly picked up the glass and drank the remaining liquid in one gulp. She let out a soft belch as she set the empty glass down. “There now, both of us have had the Lust Potion, so we’re on a level playing field.”
Ron snorted and smiled shortly before Luna pounced on him. Their lips crashed into each other.
“Did you really spike the drink?” asked Harry in a near whisper, as he watched Ron and Luna go at it like a pair of crazed nymphomaniacs.
“No,” admitted Hermione in a similar volume, as she too watched the spectacle in front of her. “I remembered how you were able to trick Ron into believing that you slipped him the Felix Felicis last year, and how he truly believed he was lucky. I realized just how susceptible he is to suggestion…”
Hermione paused as Luna made a show of shoving her tongue down Ron’s throat.
“Then what were you doing all day?” Harry asked. “And that smell that was coming from your dorm-”
“I was just boiling some old socks today to give the impression that I was brewing a potion,” answered Hermione as she watched in shock. “Then just now, I asked Tom to throw away the useless vial, and, as part of a prank, to simply nod when I pointed at Ron.”
Ron paused in his ravishing of Luna’s lips to squeeze one of her overly large tits in his hand twice. Along with each squeeze, Ron made a childish noise.
“Honk-honk,” Ron said with glee.
“Did he…?” Hermione began, but was too shocked to continue.
“Yes, he just honked her tit,” Harry finished. “Twice.”
Luna apparently decided that her un-squeezed tit was jealous, so she reached up and repeated Ron’s performance on herself.
“Honk-honk,” Luna sounded causing Ron to giggle like a boy who was just given a sugar-quill to suck on. And apparently, the sugar-quill analogy was very appropriate, because Ron’s lips clamped onto Luna’s tit and began to suckle it through the cloth of her robes.
“I knew that Ron was vulnerable to suggestion,” Hermione murmured while Luna moaned passionately, “but I didn’t know Luna was just as bad.”
Harry looked around the Leaky Cauldron and was pleased to see that no one in the pub had noticed Ron and Luna’s actions yet. But it would only be a matter of time before they did. He was about to try and separate the two new lovers when Luna did something very unexpected, but not unfamiliar to Harry.
She licked her palm.
“Oh, no,” gasped Hermione, just as Luna shoved her wet hand in Ron’s trousers. Ron’s eyes crossed and he groaned happily as Luna obviously found her target.
“Let’s get out of here,” both Harry and Hermione blurted. They shot out of the booth and scurried to the fireplace and floo’ed back to Hogwarts while Luna and Ron continued to – ahem – get to know each other. Before Harry disappeared from the Leaky Cauldron, he could’ve sworn that he heard Ron grunt and Luna giggle.
“That didn’t take long,” Harry said and picked himself off of the ground in McGonagall’s office.
“What didn’t take long?” Hermione asked. Harry just gave her a knowing look in response. “He didn’t? So soon?”
“I didn’t last long the first time with you,” Harry defended his friend.
“You didn’t finish the first time with me,” corrected Hermione.
As the couple made their way out of the Headmistress’ office, Harry recalled that along with setting Ron up with Luna, Hermione also wanted this night to be their first date as well. This was supposed to be a special night for Hermione, her first date with him but it was already over. Suddenly, Harry realized that the night was still young and he had an idea as to how to continue their date. And by Merlin, he’d make it special for her.
Taking her hand, Harry led Hermione out of the office and down toward the entrance to the castle.
“Harry, where are we going?” Hermione asked. “The Common Room is in the other direction, and there’s something I need to do.”
“It can wait,” replied Harry.
“But-”
“Too bad,” Harry cut off her objections. “Tonight’s our first date.”
Without another word of objection, Hermione let Harry take her out of the castle and onto the grounds. The two walked on the shore of the lake, looking up at the stars and talked. Since they already knew everything about each other, there was no need to try and impress each other with stories about themselves. Some times they simply talked about how pretty the stars looked, and other times they didn’t even utter a sound; they just sat on the shore, holding each other in comfortable silence.
After a little over an hour, Harry and Hermione headed back to the castle.
“Do you think they’ll be okay?” asked Harry as the two lovers walked toward the Gryffindor Common Room.
“They should, seeing that Ron came before we left. They should come to their senses before anyone in the Leaky Cauldron catches them,” said Hermione. She then giggled and stated; “Can you imagine the look on Tom’s face if he realized that Luna was playing with Ron’s penis in one of his booths?”
Harry blushed and averted his eyes when Hermione said that word.
“Harry, are you okay?” Hermione asked when Harry turned his head.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Harry replied.
A wry smile crept across Hermione’s lips and she breathed in Harry’s ear; “Penis.”
“Gah,” Harry groaned and recoiled away from Hermione.
“Penis, Harry,” chuckled Hermione, and he flinched again. “Penis, penis, penis.”
“Stop saying that word,” Harry hissed.
“What word, Harry?” asked Hermione with mock innocence. “Penis?”
“Yes!”
“Why?”
“‘Cuz it’s a dirty word,” explained Harry.
“All right; let me say three things,” began Hermione as they continued their walk. “First; it isn’t a dirty word. Second, I seem to recall a positive reaction from you when I talked dirty to you when I was under the effects of your super-Cheering Charm, so I know you like it when I talk dirty. And thirdly, I’ve heard you say penis before.”
“Yeah, but only like /’Percy’s a penis’/,” corrected Harry.
“So you can’t say something like /’I really enjoy when Hermione plays with my penis’/?” inquired Hermione with a devilish smile.
Harry gulped and Hermione taunted; “C’mon Harry; say it.”
Harry really did want to say it because it was true. But he found that he couldn’t do it.
“Fine then, since you can’t say penis,” continued Hermione, “what do you call it?”
Harry felt his face burn with embarrassment.
“Perhaps /’Little Harry’/?” Hermione asked.
“Hermione, never use the word ‘little’ when talking about that/,” whined Harry. She obviously didn’t know the first law of masculinity: ‘Never use the world small, little, or tiny in the same sentence where referring to your bits.’/
“Okay, how about /’General Happy-Time’/? /’Mr. Happy Staff’/? /’Beef Bayonet’/? /’Love Wand’/? /’Slong’/? /’John Thomas’/? /’Wily; the One Eyed-Wizard’/? /’Todger’/?” Hermione charged on, “/’Tonsil Tickler’/? /’Mushroom Stamp’/? /’Skin Flute’/? /’Hooded Wizard’/?”
“/’Harry, Jr.’/” Harry admitted shamefully.
“Oh, ‘Harry, Jr.’ is it?” Hermione returned, obviously poking fun of Harry’s euphemism.
“Yes,” Harry hung his head. He knew it was a childish name and he was embarrassed that he had admitted it to Hermione.
“Let’s make a deal; if you can say ‘penis’ and not be embarrassed by it like a child,” Hermione began, “I’ll give you another /’birthday pres-‘/”
“PENIS!” shouted Harry. The memory of the infamous ‘birthday present’ gave him the courage to get past his childish fears. Of course, he had said the word “penis” so loud that every painting in the hallway woke up and stared at the wizard.
“How rude,” a painting of an old witch chastised.
“The manners of young people today,” a crumpled looking wizard commented.
“Now say; /’I want my penis in Hermione’s mouth,’/” commanded Hermione.
“What did she say?” the old witch asked in scandal. “Such an improper thing for a witch to-”
“Shut it, ya old bird,” the crumpled wizard barked. “This is getting interesting.
“I want my penis in Hermione’s mouth,” Harry repeated without a stutter, shutting out the chatter of the paintings.
“They way they’re talking, it would lead people to believe that they will do it right here in this very hall,” the old witch said in an appalled manner.
“We can only hope that they do,” the crumply wizard added.
Hermione bit her lip seductively and asked; “How bad do you want it?”
‘Harry, Jr.’ – no, Harry’s penis jumped up and begged. “Very much,” Harry groaned.
“No, Chosen One, do not be doing that!” a tiny voice squeaked from somewhere in the shadows.
“Not now!” hissed Harry.
“Who’s there?” asked Hermione as she scanned the hall around her.
Dozens of House-Elves skulked out of the shadows and stood in front of Hermione.
“Have you been following me?” asked the brunette witch.
“We’s is sorry, oh Great One,” one of the house-elves humbly admitted. “But we’s can’t be letting you’s do those nasty things with the One of the Mark.”
Two house-elves were even brave enough to stand between Harry and Hermione, as if to block them from coming too close to each other. Harry had to consider them to be brave, since he was about to kill the whole lot of them. If the house-elves succeeded in stopping Hermione and Harry from having fun, this would be the second time in two days he would have be denied his fun. First, Remus and Tonks’ joke stopped Hermione from giving Harry a hand-job, and now these effing elves were trying to stop her from giving Harry another ‘/birthday present/’!
“Oh, I understand,” Hermione said softly to the house elves. “You’re right; I’ve learned my lesson and won’t be touching the One of the Mark.”
Harry’s heart sank as relief washed over the house-elves; they had gotten their wish and Harry was denied a blow-job. Harry was positive that he was about to have a stroke. Not a little one either, it was going to one of the big ones, where he’d end up a drooling vegetable.
“Thank you’s, oh Great One,” one elf cried.
“No, thank you for stopping me from doing wrong,” Hermione said back. “But I need you to do me a favor,”
“Anything, oh Great One,” the elves all called out.
“I need you to go out into the world and tell your brethren that I have finally come,” Hermione said a little over-dramatically. Every single house-elf squealed in delight and disappeared with a pop. “Now that they’re out of the way… it’s time for your /present/.”
Harry felt his eyes well up with tears of relief and happiness. Hermione once again took Harry’s hand and headed off to the Gryffindor Tower. Harry paused when a sudden realization dawned upon him.
“What if Ron’s up there already?” he asked.
“Then we tell him to have a good night and retreat to the Common Room. After locking him in his dorm, of course,” offered Hermione. “Besides, even if he and Luna eventually realize that they were never exposed to a real Lust Potion, they would still talk for a bit and what not.”
The two young lovers passed the Fat Lady and climbed the stairs to Harry’s room and were overjoyed to see it empty. Hermione was right; apparently, Ron was still with Luna, which made Harry very happy. They wouldn’t have to tromp back down to the Common Room after all; he could play with Hermione without fear of interruption. Taking her in his arms, Harry devoured Hermione’s face with both big and small kisses.
“You are the most brilliant witch in the world,” Harry complimented his girlfriend with a kiss on her nose. “You had me scared there with the ‘I’ve seen the light’ bit with the House-Elves,” he finished by kissing her chin.
“Yeah, I figure that if we needed some alone time, all I’d have to do is tell them to pop out and spread the word,” Hermione stated as she pulled Harry’s shirt off.
“Brilliant,” Harry breathed in her ear and began to unbutton her blouse. He trailed kisses down her neck and onto the flesh in-between her breast while Hermione gave him a hand and unclasped her bra.
“You can show me how brilliant I am by kissing these,” Hermione replied and she cupped her boobs together. Harry happily complied. As his tongue played with /’Natasha’/, Hermione asked: “Would you find me more attractive if my titties were like Luna’s?”
Harry paused for a moment before answering. “Actually no, there is such a thing as too big. I mean I reckon that I’d get a sprained wrist playing with them,” he ended playfully. Harry waited a moment before continuing, in a completely open and earnest tone, “Besides, I’m in love with you, and not your boobs.”
“That’s the right answer,” Hermione cooed and Harry went back to playing with ‘Natasha.’
/ /”That’s not to say I don’t love your tits,” added Harry. “You see, I figure they’re a nice bonus that comes with loving you, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course not,” giggled Hermione and Harry went back to suckling ‘Carmella’ this time. A wicked compulsion overtook Harry, he reached up and cupped her fascinating mounds in his hands and gently squeezed them. That wasn’t the wicked compulsion though; the wicked part came when he made a certain now-familiar noise.
“Honk, honk” he sounded and Hermione’s face lit up in a most pleasing way and she giggled – which caused her boobs to jiggle in the most wonderful way. When his compulsion was satisfied, he returned to suckling her nubs.
After a few minutes where both teens somehow were able to shed the last fragments of their clothing while Harry’s mouth was still attached to Hermione’s breasts, the brunette witch announced; “Time for your /’birthday present.’/”
Hermione guided Harry so that he was sitting on his bed with his back against the headboard and she knelt in-between his legs. She took his organ lovingly into her hands and purred; “It’s time to see if my experiment has worked.”
“What experiment?” asked Harry while he ran his fingers through her soft hair.
“Remember back when I said that we can change the taste of your discharge by altering your diet? Well, that’s why I haven’t let you eat dairy or sweets,” explained Hermione.
Any resentment Harry might have felt over his forced change of diet disappeared the second that Hermione ran her tongue up the length of his manhood.
“Besides the scientific research to find out if I was able to change your taste,” continued Hermione, “I still have to thank you for that beautiful flower you gave me.”
With that, Hermione swallowed Harry’s organ. He stroked her cheek and asked; “You thought it was beautiful?”
To which Hermione hummed a “yes” sound. The humming sent a wave of pleasure over Harry. Hermione took that as her cue to start her wonderful humming again. Unfortunately for Harry’s psyche, she chose that same damned childish song that he couldn’t place from the first time she went down on him. Hermione had gotten to the second verse of the insipidly inane song when Harry couldn’t stand anymore.
“Stop, just stop,” commanded Harry.
Hermione raised herself off of Harry with a pop and asked; “What’s wrong? Am I not doing it right?”
“No, you’re fantastic. It’s just that bloody song you’re humming. Please stop that song,” he hissed. “I hate it! Anything else, just not that song!” Harry desperately wanted her to continue with her humming, but that song was driving him crazy.
“How can you not like /’The Good Ship L-‘/?” Hermione began to ask.
“How can anybody like it?” Harry snapped. “It’s a stupid song, that doesn’t make any sense.”
“Well, what would you like me to hum?” she asked with his erect and spit coated penis resting against her cheek.
“I dunno, How ’bout some movie theme,” suggested Harry.
“Maybe something from John Williams,” offered Hermione.
“Sure,” he replied. Harry didn’t know who this Williams bloke was, but as long as Hermione wasn’t humming that asinine song, he would be happy.
The tune that Hermione selected made Harry very happy indeed. It was a beautiful humming rendition of a song that seemed to have been written just for him; just for Harry Potter. A Harry Potter theme, if you will.
While Hermione continued to bob, suckle, and hum, Harry lovingly caressed her cheek and ran his fingers through her bushy hair. His heart was filled with so much love for Hermione, because she was doing this just to make him happy. He vowed to return the favor shortly; perhaps immediately after he was done.
As he was caressing her face, Hermione opened her jaw wide and shoved the tip of his manhood into her cheek so that it was creating a bump in her face. Harry got a thrill as he ran his fingers over that bump, simultaneously stroking his girlfriends flesh and his penis through her cheek.
After a while – again, Harry noted with pride that he was lasting longer and longer with each go – he felt the familiar pressure build up. “Hermione, I’m gonna cum,” he warned.
She formed a tight ring with her forefinger and thumb at the base of his shaft and pumped while she continued to slurp at his crown. Hermione looked up and the couple locked eyes. Harry grabbed his bed sheets and unloaded into his love’s mouth.
Hermione slurped as he came. After he was spent, she raised herself up and Harry could tell that his seed was in her mouth, as she had her cheeks puffed out slightly. She swirled the goo between her cheeks and had a scrutinizing look on her face, as if she was judging the fluid for taste, consistency, and style, much like a food critic would sample wine. But before she could swallow his load, the door to Harry’s room flew open with a bang and a very disheveled red-haired wizard came staggering in.
He looked as if he had been stampeded by Buckbeak; his pullover was half-tucked in, half out, his zipper was undone (the part of his pullover that was tucked in was sticking out like a fabric representation of his willy), his robe looked like it was torn in several places, and he was missing one of his shoes.
Harry and Hermione watched Ron stumble in with wide, horror filled eyes. Added to her comically wide eyes and puffed cheeks, a bit of Harry’s cum had seeped out of Hermione’s pursed lips and dribbled down her chin. Judging by Ron’s state; the date had either gone terribly wrong (he looked as if he was roughed up) or had been a smashing success (he looked as if he had been roughed up… but in a good way). Whatever way the date turned out, Harry reckoned that Ron wouldn’t want to see Harry and Hermione’s/ “after show.”/ Well, that and Harry didn’t want to have Ron see ‘Harry, Jr.’ all wet and sleepy. Something’s friends just shouldn’t share
Thankfully, the Powers-That-Be seemed to be on Harry and Hermione’s side for once. With his eyes shut, apparently out of sheer exhaustion, Ron careened past Harry’s bed (where he missed a spectacularly good view of Hermione’s round bottom Harry observed) and began to fall onto his own bed. Unfortunately, the red-haired wizard completely missed his bed by at least two feet and crashed with a thud onto the bare and hard floor. A low snoring sound told Harry that his friend was all right.
Harry turned to check on his girlfriend and he could tell that she was panicked by the idea that Ron would hop up at any second and shout “Brilliant job, Hermione! Can I watch while Harry goes down on you?” simply by the look on her face – that and the fact she hadn’t swallowed yet.
“Um, Hermione, he isn’t gonna wake up for hours,” Harry reassured. He knew for a fact that Ron was not going to wake up even if Harry placed an Exploding Snap card on his head – Harry knew this was certain since he had tried this tactic one night a few years back when he was very bored.
Hermione gulped and finally swallowed his load and then laughed nervously. “I thought we were caught,” she breathed out.
“Well, seeing pretty much how everybody else has walked in on us,” said Harry with a mischievous smile, “why not give Ron a show?”
“He is our best friend, after all,” Hermione put in, catching on to Harry’s joke.
“He could even cheer us on,” Harry added.
Hermione snorted and said in an imitation of Ron’s voice “Good job, Hermione, but focus more on that there.”
The two naked lovers sniggered as silently as they could. After regaining his composure, Harry pushed Hermione onto her back and she squealed “What are you doing?” in an undertone.
“Returning the favor,” Harry said simply.
“I was joking when I said he could watch,” Hermione said on the verge of panic.
“No you weren’t,” Harry said confidently as he crawled on top of Hermione. “You’re a naughty little witch who would get off on doing it while Ron’s asleep, just a few feet away.
“Besides, I know for a fact,” continued Harry. “Nothing will wake him up for hours. Trust me.”
Hermione’s panic slowly softened into embarrassment. With a blush, Hermione admitted, “All right, just this once though.”
With a triumphant chuckle, Harry began to lower himself so that his face was hovering over her flower. “But do not use you Parseltongue magic, just try it normally,” Hermione commanded. “I don’t want to scream and risk waking Ron up.”
“Your wisssh isss my command,” Harry hissed in Parseltongue and lowered his mouth on her petals.
With her voice full of a combination of fear of waking Ron up and overwhelming desire to have Harry eat her out, Hermione whimpered; “Oh, no.”
To Be Continued.

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Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor
Chapter Twenty: Train Rides and Mad Monkeys
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: Harry and Hermione face off against the Death Eater Threat and then face off against their dry spell.
“Awww…. Did we interrupt?” the Death Eater asked mockingly as he pointed at Harry’s crotch. Harry looked down at his lap and found/ ‘Harry, Jr.’ sleeping in the open air, oblivious to the danger around it. Of course, ‘Harry, Jr.’ /didn’t really give a damn about the danger. The organ was pleased as punch that it had finally gotten to play with Hermione after such a long dry spell and nothing else mattered. As quickly as he could, Harry stuffed his penis back into his trousers.
A scream sounded from somewhere on the train behind the Death Eater. It was clear that there had to be other Death Eaters throughout the train and that they were terrorizing the students. Somehow, they had broken through the various wards and protections around the train and were able to board it.
Two more Death Eaters stepped over the rubble that used to be the door and walked into the Head Compartment. With a growl, Hermione stood and boldly leveled her wand at the first Death Eater. Harry went to pull out his wand but found it missing. Looking around, he spotted it lying against the wall about four feet away. The wand must have popped out of his pocket and rolled away when the train came to a screeching halt.
“Ooooh, doesn’t she look mad,” one of the Death Eaters who had just entered said with fake fear. In all honesty, Harry wouldn’t have been surprised to see steam shoot out of Hermione’s ears she was so angry.
“Why is she so upset?” the third asked with no sincerity.
“It looked like the Boy Who Lived was about to shag her,” the first Death Eater informed his cohorts.
“But…. but I thought… isn’t Potter gay?” the second Death Eater asked in confusion.
“Yeah, he and that Malfoy boy are supposed to be an item,” the third voiced.
“Maybe she was trying to/ ‘convert’ /him,” the first offered.
“I’ll give you three seconds to leave,” Hermione threatened. Her voice was dripping with malice and her face was twisted in anger. Harry slowly inched his way toward his wand while the three Death Eaters had their attention on Hermione.
“My, oh my,” the first said lightly. “I was right; this little witch was about to try and sway the poof away from Malfoy with her feminine wiles.”
“One,” Hermione counted off.
“And she’s a little worked up over it isn’t she?” the second added.
“Deary, he’s a lost cause,” the third pointed out.
“Two,” continued Hermione.
“The boy obviously likes sausage,” the first stated.
“No box lunch for that one,” the second commented.
“Three,” Hermione said and then incanted the Stinging Hex: “Mordeo Acuo!”
/ /Normally, a Stinging Hex would be nothing more than a mild annoyance. But this would be the first time Hermione had cast this simple hex since she had performed the power boosting ritual with Harry. Needless to say, this (quite pleasurable to Harry) ritual would increase the effectiveness of the Hex. Added to this, Hermione was pointing her wand at someplace that could cause a lot of pain no matter how powerful the hex; the first Death Eater’s groin. Apparently, Hermione was quite irate that they had interrupted her and her selection of a target gave proof of her current mindset.
The Death Eater dropped to the floor clutching his bits and screamed. At first, his scream was manly; a deep, rumbling cry of pain. But very rapidly, the scream got higher and higher. It had gotten so high pitched that it hurt Harry’s ears and he reckoned that dogs all along the countryside were howling madly at the odd noise.
The two other Death Eaters looked in fear at their fallen comrade for a full three seconds. Then, in unison, they both looked at Hermione for one second. And finally they looked at their own crotches in dread before slowly backing out the ruined door.
“Sorry about the interruption, Miss,” the second Death Eater said with nervous politeness.
“Yes, please continue as if we were never here,” the third added with and equal amount of cordial fear. It was clear that neither of them wanted to suffer the same fate as the Death Eater who was still screaming shrilly on the floor. As they left the compartment, one of the retreating Death Eaters tried to make amends by magically repairing the ruined door.
“I’ll put up a/ ‘do not disturb’ sign up,/ for you two,” one stated through the door. “That way no one will bother you again.”
Another terrified scream filtered through the door and Harry shared a look with Hermione. Even though they both wanted to end their dry spell as soon as possible, they knew it would be wrong to do so when the other students were in trouble. /’Harry, Jr.’, /who had just woken up, was arguing that the students could handle things themselves. But Harry ignored his organ’s protest and fetched his wand.
Hopping over the injured Death Eater – who was now curled up in a tight ball while clinging to his… well, balls – Harry and Hermione dashed out of the Head Compartment. The first car they entered had two Death Eaters in it. Each villain had a young witch under each arm and Hermione quickly dispatched them with two powerful Stunners that sent the Death Eaters crashing into the wall. Harry quickly conjured some chains and bound the villains before heading further down the train.
In the next car, Harry found Ron and Luna – still polyjuiced to look like Hermione – tying up three more Death Eaters. Ron looked quiet upset as he tied up one Death Eater. As Harry and the real Hermione rushed passed their friends, Harry noticed that even though Ron and Luna were wearing their school robes, they were noticeably naked underneath. Unfortunately for Harry’s sake, he was also able to tell that Ron was still fully aroused. Harry guessed that the married couple only had enough time to do the deed twice, which just meant that Ron was just getting started, before they were attacked. The unfortunate interruption accounted for Ron’s temper.
The third car Harry and Hermione entered only contained frightened students huddled in various compartments. Some pointed toward the opposite end of the car and muttered, “They went that way.”
Glancing outside the window Harry noticed that the train had stopped on a bridge over a large valley and that the earth was a hundred feet below them. The Death Eaters must have chosen this spot for their attack because it ruled out any chance for the students to hop off the train and run away. The students were effectively trapped.
In the fourth car, Neville and Ginny were facing off against one Death Eater. Apparently, the villain had disarmed both Neville and Ginny. But being unarmed did not stop the two teenagers. Neville had a hold of the Death Eater’s collar and was throwing the villain back and forth between two walls. The Death Eater was bruised and bloodied and was shouting “OW! STOP IT!” repeatedly as he hit the walls. Ginny kept busy by occasionally slapping the Death Eater as Neville tossed him about.
“Harry, they’re trying to take the younger students,” Hermione announced as they rushed toward the last car. Harry had noticed that two more girls had been huddled next to Neville as he continued his violent and very physical assault on the Death Eater. He didn’t know why they wanted children, but Harry was determined to stop them.
When Harry and Hermione entered the final car, they found four Death Eaters attempting to mount brooms. Each one was carrying a bound first or second year. Harry quickly leveled his wand at the Death Eaters’ heads and shouted “Stupefy!” while focusing on his love for Hermione.
A red arc erupted from Harry’s wand and collided with three of the Death Eaters. Harry had aimed high in order to avoid hitting any of the girls, but he had missed the fourth thug. The fourth Death Eater hopped on his broom and started to take off. Hermione reacted quickly and hit him with a Stunner. The Death Eater pitched off his broom and landed on the steps but unfortunately, he dropped his hostage. Realizing that the girl was going to fall into the chasm below, Harry jumped out of the car and grabbed onto the girl’s hand as she started to plummet into the ravine.
“I’ve got you,” Harry grunted and pulled the screaming girl back onto the train. Once inside the train, the tiny girl grabbed onto Harry as if he was the only thing stopping her from falling to her death. She wrapped her arms around his chest and her legs around his waist and refused to let go.
Now that the immediate threat was over, Harry decided to check on his fellow students and the captured Death Eaters. He and Hermione went from car to car and they re-stunned the Death Eaters as they passed. The couple, as Head Boy and Girl, would also speak words of comfort to the most frightened students. It was fairly difficult for Harry to do this for two reasons. First, he wasn’t a wizard of many words and his idea of comforting the younger students was to say something along the lines of, “You’ll be okay.” Which really doesn’t work very well on a screaming eleven year old. The second thing that made his task difficult was that the girl Harry had rescued was still firmly wrapped around his body. He had to lumber from car to car with a first year clinging to his midsection.
A team of Aurors arrived shortly after Harry and his friends dealt with the Death Eaters. They told Harry that the Express stopped because the Death Eaters had removed several feet of rail further down the track. Then the villains had used various counter-charms to negate the protection around the train and entered.
The girl wrapped around Harry had still refused to let him go by the time the Aurors repaired the tracks and the train started its journey once again. This meant that even when the Death Eater threat had been neutralized, the prisoners had been removed, and the train continued on its trek to Hogwarts, Harry was not able to properly ravish Hermione. Harry was a patient man, but he hadn’t gotten a chance to play with Hermione for a while. Added to this, Harry felt strangely energized by the battle with the Death Eaters. He felt as if he had loads of extra energy that was demanding to be used. That, and he was literally hard as a rock. Harry considered for one short moment stunning the frightened girl so he could have his way with Hermione. But he begrudgingly realized that it would be bad to do such a thing to the poor girl.
When the Express had finally arrived at Hogsmeade station, Hagrid had to pry the girl off of Harry. Of course the girl just clamped onto Hagrid.
After he was freed of the girl, Harry eyed the Threstral drawn carts happily. Even though the ride to the castle was short, he and Hermione could perform what is colloquially known as a “quickie.” But alas, Harry’s plan was aborted again. Just as he started to kiss Hermione and fondle her breast through her robes, Neville, Ginny, Ron, and Luna piled into the cart after them.
“Isn’t there another cart you could’ve taken?” Hermione asked. It was clear that she too wanted to spend some time alone with Harry; even if it was just a/ “quickie.”/
“Did you see what Neville did?” Ginny said with a mixture of pride and excitement. “The Death Eater used a Disarming Hex on him. But that didn’t stop him, no! Neville just ran up to the ponce and punched him in the jaw!”
“That’s nice,” Harry murmured dispassionately. He was happy that Neville dealt with the Death Eater, but he was upset that he wasn’t able to take Hermione. Harry was also a little concerned that his friends would notice his aroused state, even though his robes were doing a good job of concealing it./ ‘Harry, Jr.’ was standing proud in his trousers. The organ was trying to convince Harry to take Hermione right there in front of their friends. Harry imagined his appendage pleading with him: “Go on, they won’t mind. Besides, you’d just be proving to them how much you love her!”/
/ /”Ronald performed a wonderful Impediment Jinx,” Luna announced.
“It wasn’t as good as Ginny slapping that Death Eater around,” Neville countered.
“I’ve never seen someone use a Sponge-Knees Curse as good as Luna did,” Ron added.
“Neat,” Hermione breathed out, sounding like she too was regretting their friends’ arrival as much as Harry did.
When they finally arrived at the castle, the first years were quickly sorted. Then McGonagall gave a lecture. She said something about how Aurors would be guarding the castle and that the wing where the Room of Requirement was located had been blocked off earlier in the day. She reassured the students that the attack on the train earlier was a fluke and that the castle was impenetrable.
Harry wasn’t paying too much attention to what the Headmistress was saying. Instead he was focused on his girlfriend who was equally focused on him. It was clear that she was just as eager as he was. Her eyes were dark with lust and Harry couldn’t wait to be alone with her.
Then a very happy thought came to Harry. This was the first night Harry and Hermione would be spending in the Head Boy and Head Girl apartments. In just a few minutes, they would be alone. Right after the Welcoming Feast, Harry would be making love to Hermione; their first time after a prolonged dry spell, without fear of interruption.
Professor McGonagall ended her speech and food magically appeared on every table. Harry wolfed down his meal in a few gulps. Once he had satisfied his hunger, he grabbed Hermione’s hand and said “Let’s go find the Head Boy and Girl’s chambers!”
Harry started to stand up, but Hermione tugged him back down.
“We have to wait until the feast is over,” Hermione pointed out.
The raven haired wizard groaned pitifully. He wanted to make love to Hermione and the damned feast was stopping him from doing so. He glared at his fellow students, silently willing them to eat faster so that the feast would be over. Harry shot a hateful eye at a group of fourth year Hufflepuffs who were talking instead of finishing their meals.
‘Damn then,’ /Harry thought bitterly to himself. ‘They’re dragging this out on purpose. They know the longer they take to eat the more I suffer.’/
/ /Finally, after what felt like hours, McGonagall declared the feast over by announcing that everyone should head to their Common Rooms.
“Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, a word,” McGonagall called out.
Harry fought the urge to shout/ “HELL NO!” /and run out of the Great Hall with Hermione in tow. But Harry realized that doing so would be terribly rude. So, he forced himself to shuffle up to the Headmistress.
“Here is a map leading to your chambers,” McGonagall said as she handed Hermione a piece of paper. “As Head Boy and Girl, a house-elf has been assigned to you. I took the liberty and selected Dobby to be that house-elf. He has a small room in-between your rooms. The password to get into the chamber is ‘Bubblerboth’.”
Harry was happy with the Headmistress’ choice of elf; Dobby wasn’t part of the house-elf sect that wanted to kill Harry for deflowering the Great One. And Hermione would be happy that Dobby was chosen because he was the only house-elf being paid.
“Now, you two need to be up early in the morning, so don’t stay up too late,” McGonagall said with her now-patented saucy wink.
“Don’t worry, we won’t,” Hermione said rapidly before grabbing Harry’s hand and ran out of the Great Hall.
The two lovers dashed through the halls. Harry was quite surprised;/ ‘Harry, Jr.’ /was still very hard. Even after all this time and McGonagall’s wink, he was still erect! Harry thought with amusement that he must have looked like something akin to a divining rod as he ran to his new room.
They rapidly approached a door with the Hogwarts crest carved on it. Hermione said “Bubblerboth” and threw the door open and entered.
If Harry had bothered to take the time to look around him, he would have noticed that he and Hermione had entered a small room, about a quarter the size of the Gryffindor Common Room. He would have also noticed a comfy couch, two comfortable looking chairs, two desks for homework, and a fireplace along with two doors placed on either side of a small door. But as stated previously, Harry wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings. No, his mind was firmly set on the task of making Hermione a very satisfied witch.
The moment they entered the room, he pushed Hermione onto the couch and leapt on her. He kissed her passionately, their tongues played in each others mouth. While they kissed, Hermione tugged at her clothes while Harry pulled his own off. Once they were both mostly naked (Harry still had his trainers and socks on and Hermione had her skirt hanging off of one of her ankles) Hermione commanded with a smile “Get to work.”
Harry was getting so used to activating his Parselmouth ability that he found himself not even needing to close his eyes. He slowly slid down Hermione’s body while hissing softly, which just caused goose-pimples to blossom all over her milky flesh. As he lowered himself between her legs, she started to make soft mewing sounds in anticipation. Her soft mewing instantly turned into a very enthusiastic/ “YES!” /the moment his tongue and love magic touched her flower.
He twirled his tongue around her bud and Hermione clamped her legs around his head reflexively. She squeezed her legs tighter when he gently pried apart her petals and ran his tongue up and down the inside of her labia. The brunette witch – although from Harry’s current viewpoint it would be more accurate to describe Hermione as “the completely shorn witch” – didn’t last very long. Apparently, she had wanted to end their dry spell just as much as Harry did. And just as Harry came a lot when Hermione pleasured him in the train, she erupted like a fountain. She had obviously been building up a lot as well.
“SWEET BABY MEAVE!” she cried out as her orgasm struck her. Harry lapped up her love happily.
Hermione relaxed her legs, freeing Harry to climb back up her body. The two lovers locked eyes and she reached down and guided Harry into her./ ‘Harry, Jr.’ /was so happy to be back where it belonged that it almost started crying a few seconds after it slid into Hermione’s flower. Thankfully, the organ fought the urge to finish early and valiantly continued.
“Talk dirty to me,” Harry whispered in Hermione’s ear.
Clearly, Hermione was more than happy to comply with Harry’s request. Her mouth spewed such foul and creative phrases as/ “ram me,” “I’m a dirty witch who needs to be spanked,” and many naughty words like “fuck” and “pussy” (a word which Harry was almost positive that she didn’t use in reference to Crookshanks). And added to Harry’s enjoyment, when he warned his lover that he was about to climax, she loudly demanded that he should do so in her because she wanted to be a “messy witch!”/
With both lovers panting and momentarily satiated, Harry pulled out of Hermione.
“Well… that… was… fun,” commented Hermione in between pants.
“Yeah… it… was,” Harry breathed out.
Then our hero discovered something unusual. Generally, when/ ‘Harry, Jr.’ was done playing, it’d trot off to bed for a kip. Harry was quite surprised to see his organ was still awake and…. ahem/… up for another go.
“It would be a shame to let that go to waste,” Hermione said as she eyed Harry’s erect state.
“A dreadful shame,” agreed Harry.
What followed could be best described as/ “Mad Monkey Sex.” Both made odd noises consisting of “oooh’s,””aah’s,” “eee’s,” and half a dozen “ook’s”. They also didn’t just restrain themselves to using only the couch. No, they tried to “break in,” /so to speak, as many pieces of furniture as possible. After they left the couch, Hermione was bent over one of the desks, a position that Harry thoroughly enjoyed because it gave him the opportunity to massage and fondle her round bottom as he took her from behind (and to Hermione’s pleasure, he got a few good, hard swats against those heavenly cheeks). A few moments later found Harry lying on the rug in front of the fireplace while Hermione rode him like a pony; another position that Harry found enjoyable because it gave him the chance to stroke and rub her boobs. After that, Harry took Hermione as she lay across the other desk, a position that couldn’t have been comfortable for Hermione. But judging by the happy sounds she was making and her cheers of “YES,” “RIGHT THERE!” and “FASTER,” Hermione didn’t seem to mind the hard desk pressing into her back. And at one time, both Harry and Hermione were somehow dangling from the chandelier.
Unlike their first go at lovemaking that night, Hermione climaxed. And she did so before Harry did. Harry knew that she had an orgasm because he felt her inner walls clamp down around him. That and she cried out her usual idiom when it happened: “SWEET BABY MEAVE!”
Harry came shortly after she did. Both of them were dripping with sweat – amongst other liquids – and breathing heavily at this point. Harry was beyond satisfied. Not only did he and Hermione put an end to their dry spell, but they nearly made up for any lost time in just one session. He was proud of his accomplishment but he was also ready to fall asleep. Twice in a row is very tiring for a bloke.
However, even though he was ready for a long rest,/ ‘Harry, Jr.’ wasn’t even slightly sleepy. The messy member looked up at Harry with its one eye as if it was proudly declaring /”I’m ready for another round, sir!”
/ /”Bloody hell!” exclaimed Harry.
Then Hermione made a noise. It was soft and rapid. Harry didn’t hear it clearly, but he could have sworn that she had just said/ “yippee!”/
/ /”What was that?” asked Harry.
“Oh, nothing really,” Hermione said with a very happy grin. He gave her a disbelieving look and she defended herself. “I was just commenting that all that adrenaline you had during the fight with the Death Eaters must be giving you this virility.”
“Do you think it’ll ever go down?” Harry asked.
“Hopefully not anytime soon,” Hermione uttered under her breath.
“Excuse me?”
“Sit on the chair and let me take care of that,” commanded Hermione. The tone of her voice told Harry that it would be best not to argue with her. So Harry obediently sat in the chair and Hermione promptly straddled him. She started by slowly raising and lowering herself on Harry. Then, after a bit, she increased her pace. Next, she began to grind and gyrate on/ ‘Harry, Jr.’ /in new and interesting ways. Hermione was making sweet and enjoyable sounds as she moved up, down, this way, and that. Harry just sat back and enjoyed the show.
“Hermione… I’m… gonna…” Harry began to warn her.
“Not just yet, Harry,” she moaned out. “I’m almost there.”
Harry fought it with all of his might. His face screwed up in concentration and he hoped that Hermione wasn’t lying, because he was about to lose his fight and cum.
“Oh… oh… oh…” Hermione panted.
Harry fought the urge to shout/ “Would you just finish already!”/
/ /”So-o-o close,” she muttered. “Almost… there.”
Sweat poured off of his body and he grunted. He was now starting to hurt. His body begged for release.
“Oh, Merlin Harry,” she cried. “Now, do it now.”
With a shout, Harry let go and Hermione screamed once again. She collapsed on him and her body shivered with delight.
They sat there silently, basking in each others’ warmth for some time. Then Hermione began to giggle softly in Harry’s ear. That’s when he noticed that he was still hard inside of her.
“Damn my virility,” Harry murmured in exhaustion.
“Looks like someone’s up for round four,” she said joyously and began her luscious grinding once again.
To Be Continued
Author’s Notes: Sorry about the long delay. My inspiration was chased away by issues with real life and it is slowly coming back to me.

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