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

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

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

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

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