As the sun crept into the smallest bedroom in the house at # 4 Privet Drive, Harry Potter fought the urge to wake up. Harry was having a nice pleasant dream. He dreamt that he was sitting on the shore of the ocean with his feet in the cool water, while reading a book about lighthouses. Two odd things about the dream stood out for Harry. The first was that he couldn't place where he was in the dream, but it was somewhere between two hills with high peaks. And the second odd thing was that he could clearly smell the book he was reading but couldn't smell the ocean; the book had an enticing musky odor to it. It was an curious dream, but Harry liked it because the horrors of his past weren't revisiting him like they usually did during his normal dreams. The young wizard wanted to stay in this slumber-land for just a little longer. Of course, the sun had different plans and one cannot argue with the sun when its horrible, golden, life-giving rays are pounding down upon one's face now can they? Lousy effing sun.
With a pitiful groan, Harry slowly woke up. He continued to lie in bed as he looked up at the ceiling without his glasses for a good long time. After he was satisfied that the ceiling had been stared at long enough, and after he had gotten thoroughly bored with said activity, Harry surveyed the room and it contents for a moment until his blurry eyes fell on his tiny desk. The desk was littered with bits of parchment, old newspapers and a number of framed photos.
His eyes tried unsuccessfully to focus on a picture of what appeared to be himself, Hermione, and Ron taken around their first year at Hogwarts. His vision then slipped to a picture of a raven haired man snuggling on a couch with a red-haired woman. Harry's heart sank as his mind replayed his short relationship with that red-haired woman.
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At the beginning of his sixth year, Harry finally noticed that Ginny was a woman, a beautiful one at that, with boobs and bouncing, shiny hair. Of course he had to end the fledgling relationship at the end of the school year for Ginny's safety. Harry knew that anyone who he considered his girlfriend would be a target for Voldemort and his asslick. . . err. . . that is bootlickers. He hated hurting Ginny's feelings and being lonely himself, but it had to be done, for her sake.
After lying in his bed while somehow simultaneously berating and congratulating himself on his decision to break up with Ginny, Harry forced himself to get up. The young wizard stood and stretched his arms. After wiping the sleep from his eyes, Harry finally put on his glasses and took note of the time. It was barely half past six in the morning and his relatives wouldn't be up for a little while. Not that it mattered anyway; his Aunt, Uncle and cousin had done their best to ignore Harry these past few weeks, and he did the same to them.
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It was mutually beneficial. Of course, Harry knew that the Dursleys were planning a very large "going away" party the day after his birthday, the day after he was supposed to leave their house forever.
His eyes fell back to the picture of Ginny and himself on the desk and Harry's heart stopped beating for one full second. The man in the picture looked exactly like he did and the woman looked very similar to Ginny. The only problem was that it wasn't Harry and Ginny snuggling in the picture. It was Harry's mum and dad, Lily and James. Harry broke out in a cold sweat as a sudden realization dawned upon him:
'Ginny looks like my mum!'
He'd lusted after a girl who physically reminded him of his mother!
Harry a spent a good portion of the previous school year snogging a girl that looked like his mother! Harry felt very ill. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear Freud giggling like a school-boy at the thought of Harry being attracted to a girl who looked like his mother! The room started to spin wildly and last night's dinner threatened to escape his body in ways it wasn't supposed to.
After rushing to the bathroom, Harry emptied his entire stomach into the toilet. 'That's odd; I don't remember having corn last night. ' His mind kept remembering what Ginny's (the woman who looked like his mother) lips felt like when he kissed them. That's when the dry heaves kicked in. Harry tried to wretch some more but there was nothing left to vomit. An image of him cupping Ginny's small breast ripped through his mind and a small thought was attached to that image: 'Were mum's tits like that?'
"Holy Christ!" Harry shouted and banged his head against the toilet in a futile attempt to rid his mind of the troubling images him fondling a girl who looked like his mother! That or knock himself out, which ever came first.
He suddenly felt very, very, very dirty.
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He remembered how aroused he was when Ginny had shoved her tongue into his mouth, but Harry now thought idly if his mother's tongue moved like Ginny's. Then the most horrid of question's entered the young man's mind: "If Ginny looks like my mother, does she taste like her, too?'
Harry groaned pitifully as he snatched a toothbrush off the counter. It could've been Dudley's but Harry didn't care (the corpulent boy hardly used it anyway). He squeezed a sizable dollop of tooth-paste on the bristles and began to brush vigorously. After Harry had used up half the tube of tooth-paste and thirty-five minutes of aggressively brushing his teeth, gums, and tongue, his cousin Dudley walked into the bathroom. The enormously fat boy looked in horror at the site (1) before him: his freak of a relative was hunched over the basin with a copious amount of foam covering the lower half of his face and dripping from his mouth.
Harry turned to his cousin and tried to shout: "GET OUT OF HERE!" Unfortunately, because of all the foam in his mouth, all Harry could muster was something like "GHTE TOOUE OV HERGELTH!" A fortunate side effect of this outburst was that Dudley's rotund face was coated with spittle and mint-scented foam as Harry spat and sprayed his demand. Harry could hear Dudley screaming like a terrified little girl as he ran down the stairs, out of the house, and into the street in his pajamas and fuzzy slippers.
After a scalding hot shower where Harry not only used up the hot water from # 4, but conceivably the rest of the block's hot water as well, Harry walked into his room and saw something quite unusual. He saw a ghost with what looked like leather armor sitting on his bed. Harry had never seen a ghost outside of school, but the most peculiar thing about this ghost was that he was somehow holding the most recent edition of The Sun newspaper, even though ghosts couldn't hold anything normally. But the oddest thing was that the unknown spirit had it opened to the infamous Page Three.
"Oh yeah, that's what I like," the ghost said lustfully, unaware that Harry had entered the room. "I bet you liked to be spanked don't you, you saucy wench!"
"Um, excuse me. .
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. " interjected Harry, but the ghost ignored him as he continued to ogle the young topless nymph on the page.
"Cor, look at those nibblers! Poor thing must be cold. . . " grunted the ghost as his right hand left the newspaper and started to reach for his lap.
"EXCUSE ME!" shouted Harry in a mortified tone. The ghost lowered The Sun and looked at Harry. The specter grinned at him and stood up. Thankfully for the young wizard, the ghost used The Sun as a crotch guard so that his "state" was hidden from sight from the already overwrought wizard.
"Sorry 'bout that, Harry. You were taking so long in the shower, and a man has needs you know. . . " stated the ghost.
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Harry was taken back that this strange ghost knew his name. "Sorry about the scare, how are you boy?" asked the ghost.
"I'm fine," answered Harry and then asked; "who are you?"
"Oh, I'm just grand thanks for asking," replied the unknown ghost. "That's very nice of you; you know, too many folk these days are so rude. "
"Pardon, but I didn't ask 'how are you,' I asked 'who are you?'" Harry repeated, a bit irritated.
"Oh, sorry 'bout that," the ghost responded completely perplexed and a little offended. "You don't recognize me?" to which Harry shook his head, "What, did you fall asleep in History of Magic?"
"Yes," responded Harry, "quite often actually. "
"Well, I'm Godric Gryffindor!" the ghost replied theatrically and struck a heroic pose.
Harry was a bit awestruck; here was the ghost of Gryffindor, one of the founders of the finest Wizarding School in the world standing in Harry's tiny bedroom. Harry's reverence quickly turned into disgust as he noticed that when Gryffindor struck his heroic pose that he dropped his newspaper and that it was apparent that the ghost was still aroused. Harry held his hand in front of his face in an attempt to block the ghost's crotch from view.
"Um, what do you want?" Harry asked, quite disturbed that he now knew with certainty due to the ghost's partial arousal that Godric Gryffindor "dressed right. "
"Well aren't you gonna ask how I am?" the ghost questioned.
"I already did," Harry retorted, "and you said you were 'just grand. '"
"No, you asked who I was, not how I was.
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It was an understandable mistake on my part seeing how you young people tend to mutter. "
"I don't mutter," Harry muttered.
"I think we should proceed with formalities before I continue," Gryffindor finished with an air of arrogance.
"Alright have it your way, how are you?" asked Harry. A tiny headache started to form behind the young man's eyes.
"Well, I was just grand until I met this rude man today," the ghost responded a bit put out.
"Sorry 'bout that," Harry huffed through clenched teeth. The tiny headache grew slightly so that it was now an annoying headache.
"It's okay, I suppose," Gryffindor said as he sat back down on Harry's bed. "I came here today to help you in you quest for Voldemort's Horcuxes. "
"How do you know about that?" Harry asked, with a great deal of surprise. As far as he knew, only Dumbledore, Ron, Hermione, and himself knew about the so-called quest.
"The old codger told me about it," the ghost responded. "I know of a useful tool you can use to destroy the Horcuxes when you find them. "
"What is it?" Harry asked, eager for any help he could get.
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"Aren't you going to say 'please'?" Gryffindor asked with a pout. Harry's annoying headache exploded into a full fledged migraine.
"Oh, sod off you silly old bugger!" Harry hissed.
"Oh my, such language!" the ghost said with mock offence. "Fine, spoil my fun, it's my old sword. "
"The sword of Gryffindor?" Harry asked.
"Didn't I just say that? D'ya need to clean out your ears, boy?"
"No, I don't!" Harry barked as his normal full fledged migraine turned into a throbbing full fledged migraine. "I just don't see how the sword could help me. "
"Dumbledore didn't tell me you were daft," Gryffindor said sadly. "It's a sword! You swing it and it cuts things! You can use it to destroy the Horcuxes!"
"Couldn't I just use a heavy rock to break them? Why would I need your sword?"
"Dumbledore used a rock on that ring, that's how his hand got all burnt," the ghost answered. "The sword has charms on it to protect you. "
"Oh," said Harry simply.
"'Oh' he says," Gryffindor mocked. "Also, if you're close enough to the site where the Horcux is, the sword can function as a divining rod to locate the blasted thing. "
"Okay, that'll be helpful.
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When I turn seventeen in two days, and get freedom from this place, I'll go to Hogwarts and fetch your sword. "
"No, do it now!" commanded Gryffindor. "Why wait?"
"Because I have to stay here until I turn seventeen," Harry said to which the ghost made a "pfft" noise. Harry ignored Gryffindor and continued. "Besides, there are members of the Order watching me. I just can't up and leave. They would stop me and shove me back in here and tell me to wait two days. "
"Fine, I didn't want to tell you this but the sword will be rendered worthless if you don't claim it by tomorrow," stated Gryffindor seriously. "The charms around the sword will drop if it doesn't have someone to wield it. "
"Alright, I'll go out there and tell the Order member about the sword and why I need it. " Harry said.
"Good plan; tell them and risk having them tell someone else about the Horcruxes and then risk them telling someone else and so on until Voldemort finds out and moves the Horcrux and then you're completely screwed," Gryffindor said. The ghost's words sunk in and Harry knew that it could possibly end up that way.
"Okay, but then I'll need some sort of distraction so I can slip away from the house without being seen," Harry said aloud.
"I'm sure you know someone clever enough to help you with that," the ghost offered.
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"Brilliant, I'll Owl the twins!" Harry exclaimed. He quickly went to his desk and began to write a letter to Fred and George. "They know loads of tricks to fool the Order. "
"cough Hermione cough" Gryffindor 'coughed' loudly behind Harry.
"Excuse me, what was that?"
"Me? Oh nothing," Gryffindor replied, and pointed to his throat. "Just a tickle. "
"Fine then, let me just write this letter," stated Harry as he turned his attention back to the parchment. Just as Harry scrawled out the words: "Dear Fred and George," on the paper, Gryffindor conveniently "coughed" again.
"cough Hermione cough Hermione cough"
"I'm sorry, but would you like for me to write to Hermione instead?" Harry asked petulantly.
"I really shouldn't interfere with the living so much," the ghost said innocently, "but I hear that the young witch is exceedingly clever. "
Harry crumpled the parchment he was working on and got a fresh one. He simply wrote:
Hermione,
I need your help.
Harry
The bespectacled man attached the letter to Hedwig's leg and the owl flew out of the window.
"Now sit down boy, we have some time to kill until you friend replies to your post," Gryffindor ordered. "Let me tell you a few stories.
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. . stories about the prettiest woman I ever shagged; Rowena Ravenclaw. "
For the next ninety-seven and a half minutes, Gryffindor traumatized Harry with stories of his sexual exploits with one of the other founders of Hogwarts. Harry wondered at one point if Ravenclaw had minded that Gryffindor had stuck his wand (mind you it wasn't his figurative wand, but his actual wand; ten inches made of birch, "My other wand isn't so small if you know what I mean. ") in that 'place' and wondered, too, if she had gotten splinters. Harry also learned that the Shrieking Shack that Remus used when he went to Hogwarts as a student wasn't the first place to use that particular title; apparently, it was also the name given to Ravenclaw's personal quarters. Gryffindor concluded with the gem "Brainy birds are always naughty. "
Gryffindor clapped his hands and asked: "Now that's done what would you like for me to talk to you about?"
"Oh god, please nothing," Harry murmured in fear. "Please, no more. "
"Alright then, how about a game of strip Parcheesi?"
Harry had started to make a mad dash for the door when he heard a familiar BANG from the street below. Harry turned to see a three-tiered purple bus parked outside his relatives' house. He also noticed with a happy heart that the ghost of Godric Gryffindor had disappeared.
Another loud bang signified the Knight Bus disappearing again. Harry made his way to the front door.
When he reached for the door-knob, someone pressed the buzzer. Harry opened the door to find a very perturbed and upset Hermione.
"You needed my help?" Hermione demanded.
"Hello Hermione, nice to see you too. I'm fine, thanks for asking," Harry greeted her with just a touch of sarcasm.
"Oh, can it Harry," she replied irritably, "I've had a rotten day. "
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. . . " Harry began to apologize.
"Actually I should thank you," Hermione interrupted and she walked into the Dursley house. As Hermione walked past Harry, he noticed a pleasing musky odor, like an old book, wafting off the young witch. Harry rationalized that she must've been reading one of her ancient tomes on the Bus. "You saved me from that lecherous git. "
Harry wondered briefly if Hermione had been visited by Gryffindor's ghost as well.
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After Harry led his friend into his room, he asked her what was troubling her. He had decided to talk to Hermione about the sword after he made sure Hermione was alright.
"I just came from the Burrow," began Hermione as she sat down on his bed. "I decided to spend some quality time with Ron because we're together now. I had started to talk about us, what we like, what we do in our free time, and what not. Well, after I had exhausted my knowledge of all-things Quidditch and began to discus other topics, Ron started to doze off! He literally had drool coming out of the side of his mouth!
"So I decided that we would have to do something else, seeing how I was boring him into a stupor. " Hermione continued and Harry sat close to her. "I asked him, after I was finally able to wake him of course, if he wanted to do something; perhaps take a nice walk around the forest behind the Burrow.
"He completely discounted my idea and came up with one of his own. And what was this brilliant idea of his? Snogging! He said 'let's snog' and grabbed my tit like this!" Hermione demonstrated by seizing her right breast and shoving it up. This action led to several other things. The first thing was that Hermione accidentally unbuttoned three buttons on her blouse, but she was too angry to notice. This action led directly into the second action, because of her breast being shoved up and the accidental unbuttoning incident, Hermione's right breast was exposed quite a bit more than she had intended. Which led to the third and final action: Harry noticed for the first time that his friend Hermione had rather nice boobs.
They weren't overly large, maybe slightly larger than a handful, but they were definitely an improvement on Ginny's.
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They also appeared to be delectably firm, something that he would like to suckl. . .
'OH MY GOD!' Harry's mind screamed. 'What the hell do you think you're doing, Potter? She's you best friend! Stop looking at Hermione's lovely. . . er. . . wonderful. . . boobs. .
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. ' Harry's upper-mind ceased its self-recrimination as Hermione dropped her breast as yet another button flew free, unbeknownst to the blouse's owner, and her enticing cleavage was revealed to poor Harry. The Boy-Who-Lived was mesmerized by the way his friend's milky flesh curved and then disappeared cruelly behind her white cotton bra. That damn bra mocked Harry, teasing the young man, saying: 'There's more underneath, more to see. . . and they are called nipples!'
'STOP IT!' Harry's upper brain took over and tore his eyes away from his friend's glorious mounds. Luckily for Harry, Hermione didn't notice where his eyes seemed to have been glued for the past few seconds. And even more fortuitous, she didn't notice 'Harry, Jr. ' trying to free himself from his damn denim prison and give a proper 'Hello' to her. Because if she did notice, she would have known that her friend was a true Gryffindor in that he, like the house founder "dressed right. "
". . . I told him; 'NO, not yet.
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Let's talk for a bit. ' And then he said, 'Talk about what?'" the brunette witch continued. "I couldn't think of anything to talk about! It hit me; we have two things in common. First, we argue constantly, and secondly, you're our best friend Harry. "
"Um, thanks. . . I like friends," Harry said dumbly, half-listening, half-wishing that 'Harry, Jr. ' would stand down, before Hermione noticed his state of arousal.
"I wish Ron and I were like you and Ginny," Hermione stated. With the mention of Ginny's name, Harry had gotten his wish; 'Harry, Jr. ' went into sudden hibernation. "I know you two broke up, but you have loads in common. You both like to play Quidditch and. .
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. and. . . and. . . "
Hermione stopped for a good long time. Harry would often see her go into these lapses whenever she was faced with a perplexing question. Her eyes would burn intensely as she worried her lip. No difficult challenge stood in the way of the awesome mental powers of Hermione Jane Granger, smartest witch in her generation, when she put her mind to it.
"And you were both possessed by Voldemort," Hermione offered after a good minute of deep thought. "And. . .
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" Hermione began to slip back into her "deep-thought mode" when Harry offered some food for thought:
"And she looks like my mum," Harry said pointing to the photo of his mother and father on his desk. Hermione scrutinized the photo for a second before becoming quite pale, then green.
"Oh, my god, that's disturbing," said Hermione as she took a deep calming breath.
"Tell me about it," Harry stated.
"And you kissed her!" Hermione said shocked.
"Don't remind me!" pleaded Harry as he felt nauseous once again.
"At least you didn't tongue kiss her. . . " Hermione paused as she saw the guilty look on his face. "Oh, my GOD! You tongue kissed a girl who looks like your mother!"
"Hermione, please. . . stop," whined Harry.
"Please tell me you at least didn't feel her up, Harry.
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"
"Um. . . "
"Wait! DON'T TELL ME!" Hermione demanded.
Hermione stood up and began pacing the room. On her third pass, Harry's nausea was replaced with arousal when he noticed how Hermione's slacks hugged her bum. 'Harry, Jr. ' woke up once more shouting, 'It's play time. '
"Why can't Ron and I and Ginny and you be like the two of us? The way we are," Hermione questioned. "You and I have so much in common. We were both raised in the Muggle world. . . "
".
.
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. So the magical world is new and fascinating to us every day. " Harry finished Hermione's statement automatically. He had to finish it automatically because his conscious mind was amazed at how supple and yet firm Hermione's bottom looked. For the first time in his life, Harry was glad that he wore his cousin's cast-offs. The circus tent that passed for pants helped hide his state.
"We both enjoy going to Hogwarts," continued Hermione. "And we both excel in at least one class. You're tops in Defense. . .
". . . And you are great at Charms, Transfigurations, and pretty much everything.
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. . "
"We both like tutoring," Hermione offered. "You were brilliant with the DA. I mean you taught two of us how to cast a corporeal Patronus!"
"And you were brilliant teaching me the summoning charm to get past the first task. Heck, everyone in Gryffindor would've failed all their classes if you didn't help us out. "
When Hermione stopped pacing and stood in front of Harry, he noticed that she appeared. . . flushed. She had a rosy bloom all over her exposed skin; especially on her lovely. . . wonderful. .
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. boobs.
"We're both quick witted and clever," Hermione said licking her lips as if she was anticipating something.
"I tricked Malfoy into freeing Dobby," said Harry. "And you tricked both Skeeter and Umbridge into doing things that needed to be done. "
"Um, I actually blackmailed Skeeter," corrected Hermione. She continued in a breathy and husky tone, "We've both been into the Forbidden Forest loads of times, whereas Ron equals Neville by only being in twice. . . "
"We're both in Gryf. . . fin. . .
dor. . . " Harry stammered when he saw a touch of lust in his friend's beautiful eyes.
"We share the same initials for our first and middle names. . . " Hermione said huskily as she intentionally unbutton one of the remaining buttons on her blouse.
"H. . . J. . . " Harry panted as he was bewitched by even more flesh.
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"Wait, that's kind of lame. . . "
"Oh, bugger it!" Hermione muttered and then leapt on Harry. Their lips met instinctively, as if they had been destined to. A fantastic tingling sensation erupted from Harry's lips and raced through his body, something that 'Harry, Jr. ' really seemed to appreciate, because he desperately wanted to say 'Hi. '
Harry's tongue involuntarily touched her lips. Hermione groaned into his mouth as her tongue came out to play with Harry's. He didn't realize when his hands started to wander, but he certainly liked it. His left hand was firmly on her bum, squeezing occasionally, while his other hand had traveled under her blouse and was running over her smooth, warm skin. Of course, this only inflated 'Harry, Jr. 's' attention who was now virtually banging his tin cup against the steel bars of his zipper prison chanting; "Azkaban, Azkaban, Azkaban. . .
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"
"Is that your wand in you pocket, or are you just happy to see me, Harry?" Hermione asked playfully after pulling herself away from his lips.
"Um. . . ah. . . um. . . " Harry bumbled in shock as he looked between 'Harry, Jr. ', Hermione, and his wand which was lying on his desk. "Well I. . .
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err. . . "
"It's a joke, Harry," Hermione stated, easing the young man's embarrassment. Then she did something Harry had never seen her do before, Hermione appeared to work up a great amount of saliva in her mouth and then licked her left palm, leaving it covered in spit. Before Harry could ask her what she was doing, Hermione stuffed her left hand down the front of Harry's trousers and gave a firm, yet polite and very welcomed handshake to 'Harry, Jr. '
"Oh my. . . " Harry squeaked as his eyes crossed. Hermione nibbled on his ear as she continued her ministrations in Harry's pants. Again, Harry was overjoyed at the fact that he had inherited the over-sized pants he was wearing, for it gave Hermione's hand ample space for movement. "Oh wow. . .
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I. . . wow. . . this is. . . neat. . . "
"Shut the hell up and kiss me Harry!" ordered Hermione. Harry was all too happy to comply. He kissed, suckled, and nibbled on various areas of Hermione's face and neck while his hands memorized every curve she had on her bum and chest.
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Hermione seemed to just focus her attention to the task at hand, or rather the task in her hand.
The two teens played a game as they rolled around on Harry's bed; one trying their damnedest to arouse the other. Of course, in this game, Hermione had the upper. . . ahem. . . hand.
Tears of joy seeped out of 'Harry, Jr. 's eye and a squelching noise emanated from Harry's trousers. Harry's world started to spin. After years of solo practice, he knew he didn't have much time left. He could feel the pressure build up in his loins as 'Harry, Jr. ' begged for release.
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'This is so much better when someone else does it for you!'
Crunch
"Oh god, Hermione. . . " groaned Harry.
"Oh, Harry. . . " Hermione said wickedly.
Crunch
"What the hell is that noise?" Harry asked in a very perturbed manner. He tore his eyes away from the brunette witch on top of him and saw a leather-clad ghost sitting on the floor eating from a bucket of popcorn. The ghost smiled in a repugnant way and said;
"I told you the brainy ones were naughty. "
"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL?" Hermione screamed as she dove off of Harry. He absently noticed that her hand was still covered with her own spittle and his pre-cum.
"Please, don't stop on my account," Gryffindor's ghost implored. "Continue.
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Pretend I'm not here. "
"Is that. . . " began Hermione as she crouched in the corner while clutching her half-opened blouse in front of her. "Is that Godric Gryffindor?"
"See that?" Gryffindor said to Harry. "She didn't take a kip during History of Magic, now did she?"
'How can you kill someone that's already dead?' Harry wondered internally. He had been so close to cumming. . . so very close. . . now he had to suffer. And suffer he would, because 'Harry, Jr.
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' didn't get to finish playing. And 'Harry, Jr. ' had quite a temper. Harry knew that when his little friend started to play, but was forced to stop before he got "sleepy", there would be hell to pay! 'Harry, Jr. ' sulked off to bed like a petulant child. Harry groaned as 'Harry, Jr. ' took out his frustrations on his luggage.
"Got a bad case of blue balls, don't ya boy?" Gryffindor said with a chuckle upon noticing Harry's discomfort. The ghost turned toward Hermione and asked, "Why don't you give Harry some assistance and rub one out for him?"
A fluttering of wings announced the return of Hedwig. The owl looked between the three people arguing and sagely decided not to get involved. Hedwig hopped into her cage and watched the verbal battle unfold.
"You disgusting old pervert!" Hermione shouted in shock.
"Guilty as charged," the ghost answered with obvious pride.
"Is this why you needed my help?" demanded Hermione, turning to Harry. "Some perverted ghost was pestering you, and you thought that I should get involved.
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"
"Um yeah. . . no. . . kinda," replied Harry sheepishly. "I mean sorta. . . well he told me that his sword will help destroy the Horcruxes and that I need to get my hands on the sword by tomorrow or it'll be too late. "
"Then why didn't you tell me about it before. . . before.
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. . " Hermione stammered obviously embarrassed. "Before I. . . we. . . "
"Started to play a gauntly little tune on his skin flute?" Gryffindor helpfully offered. Both Harry and Hermione did their best to ignore the ghost.
"I was worried about you," replied Harry truthfully. "When you came in, you were awfully upset. I wanted to make sure you were okay, to see if there was anything I could do to help you, before I asked you to help me. And then well, I kinda forgot about it when we um.
. . were. . . "
Hermione's eyes shined as she looked at her friend.
"You were worried about me? That's so sweet!" Hermione said. "I'm sorry for getting angry at you. "
"Now that you two have made up," Gryffindor interrupted, "why don't you go on and shake glands?"
"Harry, do you know any method to kill a ghost?" Hermione asked as she looked at Gryffindor, scathingly.
"I was going to ask you about that, actually," answered Harry.
"Fine, spoil my fun. It's not like there's a lot to do when one's a ghost," Gryffindor pouted.
"Oh, sod off, you old coot!" both Hermione and Harry shouted in unison.
"Why do you need to get the sword by tomorrow?" Hermione asked Harry.
"He told me that the charms on the sword that would help me destroy the Horcruxes will fail if I don't get it by then," Harry answered.
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"But I can't leave this house until my birthday, which isn't for two days. And I have the Order standing guard making sure I don't leave. "
"So you need a distraction in order to escape," clarified Hermione to which Harry nodded. The brunette witch thought for a moment before snapping her fingers and calling out triumphantly, "We'll get Fred and George to help!"
"That's what I said," stated Harry, "but the degenerate over there said I should get you. . . "
"Well, the twins wouldn't have given you a hand job, would they?" Gryffindor defended himself. "I had your best interests in mind. "
"You mean start to give him a hand job," Hermione argued bitterly. "Before you barged in for a cheap show and said 'brainy girls are naughty'!"
"Let's not point fingers and play the 'blame game' now," Gryffindor brushed the witch off. "You have a quest ahead of you! Get cracking!"
And with a pop, the ghost of Gryffindor disappeared.
"Can ghosts Apparate?" Harry asked.
"No, the old pervert is probably just invisible," answered Hermione. "He's just hoping we go at it again. "
"Fine, I'll leave then.
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" Gryffindor's disembodied voice called out and his footsteps were heard walking out of Harry's room.
"So, are we going to go at it again now that he's gone?" Harry asked hopefully; 'Harry, Jr. ' and his luggage were already starting to ache. Hermione gave the young man a look that clearly said "No. " As a matter of fact, one could discern from that particular look that if Harry had wished to pursue this inquiry, it could be quite easily stated that the look also insinuated that he would get his willy cut off.
Hermione walked over to Harry's desk and wrote a lengthy letter to the twins. She handed Harry the letter which he attached to Hedwig's leg.
"Could you take this to the twins, girl?" Harry asked. The owl nipped at Harry's finger affectionately and flew out the window. Harry was quite a bit surprised when his snowy owl dove toward the ground after only flapping her wings twice instead of soaring off into the horizon. "She doesn't do that normally," he said aloud.
Both Harry and Hermione went to the window to check on Hedwig's progress. They were both astonished to see the owl perched on nothing, in mid-air, across the street from # 4. "She doesn't do that normally, either," announced Harry.
The two teens rushed out of the house and across the street to where Hedwig had landed and seemed to be hovering six feet above the ground; hovering without using her wings at all, that is.
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The owl hooted to her master from her invisible perch as if she wanted to be congratulated for doing a good job. Harry moved toward his bird when he heard a noise coming from the empty space below Hedwig.
"What's he doing here?" a familiar voice asked in a hushed tone.
"Shut up you prat, or they'll hear us!" another familiar voice hissed.
"Hi, Fred," Harry greeted the air.
"Hi, George," Hermione added.
"I think they know we're here," one of the twins stated.
"Really? I couldn't tell," retorted the other.
A slit opened in thin air revealing the interior of an invisible magical tent. Fred and George stuck their heads out and greeted Harry and Hermione.
"Do you like our new invention?" Fred asked innocently.
"Yes, it's called the Peeping-Tom-Tent!" George added. "Quite ingenious really, the amount of charms used on it and whatnot. "
"Yes, you see a Disillusionment Charm is used on the outside. .
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. "
"While a Transparency Charm is used on the inside. "
"So the people on the inside can see out. . . "
"But no one on the outside can see the tent. . . "
"So sexual deviants can peep to their hearts content," both the twins laughed weakly.
"So, you just happened to decide to test your new product right across the street where Harry is staying?" asked Hermione.
"Well. . . we wanted to test it in a Muggle neighborhood. .
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. . " George stammered.
". . . And it was just coincidence that we ended up here. . . " Fred completed his brother's poorly fabricated lie.
"When did you two join the Order, then?" Harry asked, effectively ending the charade.
The twins slumped their shoulders in defeat.
"Right after the Death Eater attack on Hogwarts," said George.
"Yeah, because our Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder was essential in the attack. .
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. " Fred continued.
"We didn't know Draco was gonna use it like that when we sold it to him," concluded George.
"How did you think he was going to use it then?" Hermione inquired.
"Well. . . he said he was going to use it to seduce Ginny. . . "
"WHAT!?!" Harry and Hermione shouted.
"What makes you think she would have been seduced by Draco if he used the Darkness Powder?" Hermione asked.
"Our little sister gets turned on by the dark. . .
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" George answered.
"Bit of a strange turn on really," Fred offered. "And Malfoy told us he had an elaborate plan to win Ginny's heart. "
"You wanted your sister to be with that slimy git?" Harry asked, completely shocked.
"Well it's better than you and her getting together," argued Fred. "You and Ginny are just disturbing. "
"What do you mean?" demanded Harry.
"Come on mate, she looks like your mother!" George stated, while Fred shuddered.
"WHY THE HELL DIDN'T ANYONE TELL ME?" Harry cried to the heavens.
"We thought you knew," said George.
"We just assumed you were bent in the head," offered Fred.
"I hate you both a great deal," pronounced Harry. "Really, I do. "
"Let's get back to the matter at hand," Hermione implored, "and drop how sick Harry and Ginny's relationship was. "
"Hey!" Harry cried, taking offence.
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"Harry and I need to leave this house immediately," Hermione continued, ignoring Harry's protest.
"No," Fred stated at once.
"We're under strict orders from the Order," George continued.
"You don't have to tell anyone," Hermione implored compassionately. "Do it for Harry, please?"
"Nope," the twins pronounced in unison.
"We'll give you money to turn your back for just a few hours. " Hermione offered.
"Nope!"
Hermione threw her arms up in disgust; she had tried to get the twins to do it out of compassion and then bribery but to no avail. That only left blackmail.
"Fine, have your way. But just to let you know, if you don't let us leave, when we go to Bill and Fluer's wedding, I'll slip Harry and Ginny a Lust Potion," threatened Hermione as she fought back the bile creeping up her throat caused by the images running through her head.
"So what?" George asked as Harry's gag reflex kicked in.
"Yeah, Harry would like it," Fred continued, neither twin noticed that Harry had doubled over.
"I'll give them a Lust Potion and I'll make sure that they sit at your table," Hermione stated as she broke out in a cold sweat. "I can imagine it now; you'll see Harry's hand slip under the table, but what you won't see is Harry's hand slip into Ginny's skirt and then.
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. . slip a finger or two into Ginny herself. . . . "
George lurched a bit at Hermione's description, whereas Fred put up a brave face, even though he wanted to run as far away as possible. Harry had dropped all pretences and had started to dry heave once more.
"After that, Harry and Ginny will snog while still finger-banging her, right there at the table in front of you," Hermione continued, not quite suppressing the quiver of disgust in her voice. "Harry might just pull her robe down so he can. . . " Hermione paused and swallowed, as she steeled herself for the forthcoming image, ". . .
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s-s-s-suckle her tit in public. "
Fred balked and George clutched his stomach. Harry weakly pawed at Hermione's leg, silently begging her not to continue. He didn't care about the stupid Horcruxes anymore; Voldemort could take over the world as far as he was concerned. He just wanted Hermione to stop talking about him fondling a girl that looked like his mum.
"Do you think Ginny will wank him off under the table? Or perhaps she'll go down on him?" Hermione questioned as the disturbing images made her start to go light-headed. "Oh, no; I don't think you'll get off that easily. Harry'll bend her over the table and make her a woman. Right there, in front of you and the rest of your family.
"I figure she'll squeal a bit when he breaks her hymen," Hermione's face had turned a nice shade of green due to the mental image she gave herself, when Fred suddenly interrupted.
"Hold one, wait a minute," Fred interjected, hoping to derail Hermione's conversation. "Do you honestly think our little sister still has her hymen intact?"
"Yeah, how else do you think she got so popular so quickly?" added George.
"Fine then," Hermione countered. She decided to go full bore and take the fight out of the twins. "She'll just start grinding her hips into his, driving his manhood deeper and deeper into her pulsing box.
Do you think he'll smack her arse? Can you imagine the red, hand-shaped welt forming on her milky white flesh? The same milky white flesh that Harry's mother had!"
Hermione's vivid description became too much. Tears of fear and displeasure rolled down Fred's face as George fell to his knees, begging in a sad, muted tone for Hermione to stop.
"They'll call out each other's name in ecstasy," Hermione added as Harry crumpled to the ground, sobbing. "She'll scream, 'HARRY, I'M CUMMING!' and he'll grunt as he cums inside her. Then he'll lean in close to her ear and say: 'You're the best. . . mum!'"
The twins fell to the grassy ground with a thud and Harry mercifully began to black out. Hermione stood over Fred and George and concluded her threat.
"If you don't let us leave, and without alerting the rest of the Order, I'll make sure you get to witness first-hand how much Harry loves his mother!"
Some time later, a throbbing pressure in his jeans woke Harry up. Apparently, 'Harry, Jr. ' was still mad that he wasn't allowed to finish playing earlier, and he was still taking his anger and frustration out on his luggage, which Harry assumed, had turned from the earlier blue into a nice puce color by now. The young man groaned as he sat up in his chair. To his surprise, Harry was on the Knight Bus, but he had no recollection as to how he got there. He just remembered blacking out while Hermione was spinning a disturbing tale of blackmail and sex, disgusting sex at that.
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Obviously, Hermione had convinced the twins that it was in their best interest to let her and Harry leave # 4. He figured she had convinced them to help her to get him on the Bus as well.
Harry looked to his right and saw Hermione sitting next to him. The young woman had no color to her face except for a touch of sickly green around her eyes.
"I hope you appreciate what I did for you, Harry," she said. "All those horrible images have burrowed into my brain. I'm going to have nightmares for weeks now!"
The witch threw herself into Harry's arms and wept into his chest.
"It was so horrible, Harry" she cried in-between tears. "I kept seeing you. . . and Ginny. . . doing.
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. . bad. . . terrible things!"
"Shh; it's okay, shh," Harry cooed while gently rubbing her back. "It's never going to happen. " Harry felt a tinge of guilt as his hands run across Hermione's back because he kept remembering how nice and warm her bare skin felt a few hours previously.
With a "BANG", the Knight Bus screeched to a halt directly in front of the gates to Hogwarts. Hermione leaned on Harry heavily, since her knees where still weak from her earlier ordeal, as they exited the Bus and walked up to the gates.
"The gates will be locked," stated Hermione as the Knight Bus rocketed into the distance. "We'll have to go through the Shrieking Shack. "
As the two teens marched to the Shack in a roundabout way in order to avoid the villagers of Hogsmeade, Harry was taken back at how low the sun had gotten in the sky. When he had lost consciousness, it had still been late morning to early afternoon. By the position of the sun in the sky, Harry guessed that it was now nearly time for supper.
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"How long was I out?" Harry asked.
"A while," replied Hermione. "I had the twins help me put you on the Knight Bus right after you blacked out. But the driver is new, and he got lost for a few hours. I swear to God I think we somehow ended up in Dijon, France for about an hour. I think we ran over a baguette seller's cart. "
They remained silent as they ventured through the tunnel that led from the Shrieking Shack to the grounds of Hogwarts. Each step for Harry was nearly excruciating, /'Harry Jr. '/s' luggage cried out in pain at every footfall. When the teens finally emerged from the tunnel, the sun was about to say 'good-night' and leave them in the dark. By the time they had entered the castle, the only remains of the sun was an orange hue on the horizon.
Harry led the way to the Headmaster's office. The castle was eerily empty and quiet; Peeves didn't even seem to be around. After a few minutes, they reached the stone gargoyle that guarded the door to the Headmaster's office.
"Oh, bugger," cursed Harry.
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"I don't know the password!"
Hermione chewed her lip for a moment before saying: "McGonagall is the new Headmistress, but what password would she have used?"
"Dumbledore liked to use sweets," added Harry. "They were always along the lines of 'lemon drops,' 'acid pops,' 'cockroach clusters'. . . "
"So we just have to figure out what she likes. . . ?" Hermione said to herself.
"'Ice mice'. . . " continued Harry, because he honestly didn't know what the Head of Gryffindor liked. But, he felt compelled to say something.
"What does McGonagall like?"
"'Fizzing Whizbees'. .
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. " again, Harry continued to list the code-words Dumbledore might have used.
"I don't think she likes sweets, Harry," stated Hermione.
"'Blood pops'. . . "
"Blast it Harry!" Hermione ordered. "Please either be quiet or. . . . "
Hermione was about to continue her philippic toward Harry, but was interrupted when the gargoyle sprung to life and stepped to the side.
"The password is 'Blast'?" Hermione asked incredulously.
"That isn't very smart," stated Harry. "What if someone wanted to break in? They could just walk up and say 'Let's use a Blast-ing Hex to blow the gargoyle up.
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' And the silly thing would just open up for them like that," he continued, snapping his fingers to highlight his point.
"Actually," the stone gargoyle grumbled, his voice sounded like two stones grinding together, "the Headmistress hasn't made up a password yet. I'm allowed to open up for anyone. I just wanted to play with you for a bit. "
"You cheeky little bugger!" Harry chastised the stone figure.
"Let's just go, Harry," groaned Hermione as she stomped up the stairs. Harry followed, shooting a dirty look at the gargoyle.
As they entered the office, they were greeted with a hundred different snoring sounds. But one voice did greet them.
"Hello Harry, Hermione, I was wondering when would you show up," Dumbledore's painting said with a genuine smile.
"Hello, Professor," Harry returned the greeting.
Hermione, however, was too amazed at the sights and sounds of hundreds of former Headmasters and mistresses sleeping in their frames. "Is that Armando Dippet?" she questioned to no one in particular. "And that's Dilys Derwent!"
"Harry, there are two occasions on which you can stop calling me 'Professor' and use my given name," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye. "One of which is if you graduate.
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The other is if one of us dies. And seeing that I am 'living impaired,' you may call me Albus. "
"Okay, hello, Albus," Harry felt odd referring to his mentor in such an informal way. "How are you, sir?"
"Is that Roderic Hillsworth?" Hermione asked aloud once more as she continued to study the different paintings. "And that's Hamilton the III!"
"I'm dead," replied the magical painting, "and you?"
"I'm. . . ah. . . alive," was the best response that Harry could come up with.
"Wonderful, I take you're here because of the visitor you've received?"
"You know about him?"
"And that's. . . that's.
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. . " Hermione stammered somewhere in the back of the office. "That's James Doohan!?!"
"Of course I know about Godric visiting you," Dumbledore said with a wink. "I was the one who sent him.
"Why the hell is there a magical painting of James Doohan here?" Hermione asked from the dark corner where she was standing.
"So you sent him to tell me about the sword?" Harry asked.
"Yes, it is over there on the shelf behind you," stated Dumbledore.
"Did you know he's a perverted old coot?" Harry asked as he walked over to the shelf.
"Yes, I am terribly sorry about that, however he was the only ghost I could find," replied Dumbledore solemnly. "I discovered how perverted he was, first hand, during my sixth year as a student. The future Mrs. Dumbledore and I stole away to a broom-closet when he suddenly appeared over my shoulder making inappropriate suggestions to me. I still don't believe brooms should be used in such a way. "
Harry looked at the gleaming sword that lay before him.
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It had been over four years since he had last held it. His hand hovered over the bejeweled handle momentarily. He felt power coming from the sword; power that he had not detected when he first wielded the sword in his second year.
"Excuse me, Professor," Hermione asked as she walked up to Dumbledore's painting. "Why is there a painting of James Doohan in here?"
"I'll only answer if you call me Albus," the painting demanded in a cheery tone.
As Harry's hand wrapped around the hilt, a wave of power ran through his body. Harry hoisted the sword up and held it triumphantly over his head.
"Fine. Albus, why is there a painting of James Doohan in here?" repeated Hermione.
"I was playing a little joke on my predecessors," Albus chuckled. "You see, Hogwarts is in Scotland, and Mr. Doohan played a character called 'Scotty. ' Do you understand my sense of humor?
"No," Hermione said honestly.
The sword felt completely natural to Harry, as if it was an extension of his body. He was about the share this revelation with Hermione, when the office door swung open and a very perturbed Minerva McGonagall stomped in followed by an equally agitated Remus Lupin.
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Both Harry and Hermione froze like statues in their respective places.
"Damn those Weasley twins," McGonagall said rapidly through clenched teeth. She obviously had not yet seen Harry or Hermione as she continued her stomping and ranting. "How they could possibly have let Potter slip by is beyond me. "
"I've already checked #12 and he isn't there," said Remus as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Tonks is checking the parks and shops around Little Whinging. "
"And Molly told me he isn't at the Burrow!" supplied McGonagall.
It was at this point that Remus finally stopped rubbing the bridge of his nose and took notice of the office and its occupants. He saw Hermione standing in front of Dumbledore's painting sheepishly and saw Harry off to the side standing like some sort of action hero with a sword held high. Harry waved weakly at the old werewolf.
"Where can he be?" McGonagall cried out in frustration.
"He could be standing over there," stated Remus as he pointed at the raven-haired youth.
McGonagall spent the next better part of an hour yelling at Harry and Hermione. She was considering 'tar and feather'-ing them when Albus finally spoke up.
"Don't be too harsh on them, Minerva," the painting pleaded.
"Why not?" Minerva cleverly retorted.
"It is my fault that Harry and Hermione are here," said Albus.
"What?" Minerva screeched. "You left us explicit orders that Potter wasn't to leave that house until he turned seventeen!"
"It is quite funny, actually," chuckled Albus. "You see, I forgot about the sword. "
The deceased Headmaster explained to the new Headmistress about the Sword of Gryffindor, but left out any reference to the Horcruxes.
"Well, how did Harry know to come and get the sword?" Minerva asked. "You certainly couldn't have written to him. "
"I sent a ghost to him. "
"Oh? Which one?"
"Godric Gryffindor. "
"Oh, Albus, you didn't. Not Gryffindor," stated Minerva sternly.
"I couldn't convince any of the others to do it for me. " Albus defended.
"Professor, you know about Gryffindor's.
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. . er tendencies?" Hermione asked.
"Yes, I've had the pleasure. . . " Minerva said the word like it was some contemptuous thing, ". . . to meet him whilst I was showering four years ago. The scoundrel had offered to towel me off, but his offer specifically excluded using a towel!
"Did he say something to trouble you, my dear?" Minerva asked Hermione upon noticing the young witch's embarrassment.
"No ma'am!" Hermione replied a little too vehemently.
"I suppose you want me to return to my Aunt's house now," Harry said in a defeated tone.
"It is now an impossibility, Potter. Your relatives have kicked you out," McGonagall informed him.
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"We found out you weren't in the house when your uncle started to chuck your things out your now-former bedroom window. "
Remus walked up to Harry and handed him his school trunk which had been shrunk to the size of a matchbox. "Don't worry, I picked up your things," the former Marauder said.
"And seeing the late hour, you two can spend the night in your old dormitories," McGonagall said, dismissing the two teens.
Harry and Hermione stopped by the kitchen for some supper. Harry was famished; he ate almost as fast as the House-Elves were able to put food in front of him. He was stuffing his face with meat pies, kippers, white beans and toast, and other disgusting examples of English cuisine.
"Harry, something's been bothering me," said Hermione after she finished her meal. Harry turned his attention to his pretty friend while sampling some Plowman's Lunch. "Even if we do destroy the Horcruxes, you'll still have to face Voldemort. "
Harry suddenly no longer felt hungry.
"I mean he is the most powerful wizard alive," Hermione continued. "We're just kids! We have to find a way to learn useful skills quickly. "
"What do you suggest?" asked Harry.
"It's time for a good old fashion Library visit," Hermione finished with a happy smile.
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After spending four hours reading various books on various subjects, Harry groaned as he threw another book down.
"I can't read another word," Harry declared irritably. "I think my eyes are going to melt out of my head!"
Not only were his eyes sore, but his 'bits' were still sore as well. He had tried several times to find an excuse to go off to the loo and relieve himself, but couldn't come up with a reasonable excuse to be absent for several minutes, leaving Hermione alone researching a way to keep him alive.
"Alright, let's take a break from reading," Hermione said and closed the overly large tome in front of her. "Did you find anything useful?"
"I did come across something," said Harry as he sat down and tried to inconspicuously rearrange 'Harry, Jr. ' and his luggage. "What about using a Time Turner to arrange some extra training time?"
"Actually, I read up on some case studies of that when I used the Time Turner in our third year," Hermione explained. "It seems a number of wizards have tried this, but for some reason, after they have used the Time Turner for a period of time, they simply cease to exist!"
"They cease to exist?" That little nugget caught Harry's attention.
"Yes, it's as if the 'powers that be' lose interest and move on to different things," Hermione added, "completely abandoning the wizard who used the Time Turner. "
"Well, I don't want to cease to exist!" Harry exclaimed. "How about you? Did you come up with any ideas?
"I did come across something interesting in this book," Hermione stated as she reopened the large book in front of her. "There is a way for us to travel to another dimension. Time moves differently there so for every day that passes here, a year will have occurred in the other dimension, so we could literally study seven years while only a week has passed here. "
"Great! How do we get there?" Harry asked as he tried to surreptitiously adjust himself once more in vain attempt for comfort.
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"Let me see. . . " Hermione paused as she skimmed over the pages in the book. "Oh, wait, they're a few complications. "
"Like what?"
"It seems that the people in the other dimension have a bizarre quirk regarding names; we'd have to call you 'Paul' for some outlandish reason. We also have to dye you hair blonde as well as getting rid of your glasses," Hermione paused again and her face fell. "And the other MAJOR complication is that when the people return to their normal dimension, they tend to have some kind of nervous breakdown. "
"What d'you mean?"
"It appears that they wake up one day and believe their experiences in the other dimension are just a dream and they forget every thing they had learned!" Hermione declared in disgust, and pushed the heavy tome off the table which landed on the floor with a thud. "I have just wasted the past four hours!"
"Damnit!" Harry shouted and stood up. He began pacing back and forth while unconsciously trying to readjust himself. Luckily, Harry had had his back toward Hermione when this happened.
"Well, we'll just have to cram, study as much as humanly possible," Hermione stated and Harry coughed. Her definition of 'humanly possible' was completely different than Harry's. Or any other human Harry had ever met.
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"But we're probably going to have to stay here at the castle; it does have the most extensive library in Europe, after all. I'll ask McGonagall in the morning if we can stay. "
Harry continued to pace and adjust; this time right in front of Hermione.
"Harry, how close were you?" Hermione asked, noticing her friend's discomfort.
"To what?" asked Harry.
"How close were you to. . . um. . . climaxing?" Hermione added with a slight blush.
"Wha. . .
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wha. . . what?" Harry stuttered in shock at the directness of Hermione's question. "How what to what-what-ing?"
"Earlier today, how close were you to. . . well, cumming?" Hermione smiled as she felt her face heat up.
"Well. . . I. . . ah.
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. . um. . . " Harry sighed and forced himself to drop his embarrassment. "Let's just say one more stroke and I would've been a happy man. "
"One stroke! You were that close?" Hermione asked, a bit shocked herself. "Oh, you poor thing, it must be terribly uncomfortable for you. "
"Don't worry about it," said Harry waving her concern off. "I just need some 'alone-time' to take care of it. "
Biting her lip, Hermione stood up and walked over to Harry. She took his hands in hers, and without saying a word, led him to the empty spot on the table when the discarded heavy tome once was.
"Sit," Hermione commanded.
"Hermione, you don't have to," Harry said as he felt the blood leave his upper brain.
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He then added under his breath; "That is, if you don't want to. "
"Ever the gentleman, Mr. Potter," Hermione said. "Now, sit!"
Harry sat on the hard desk and felt 'Harry, Jr. ' begin to stir. Hermione cupped Harry's face and kissed his lips. It wasn't as frantic or desperate as their kisses were earlier in the day, but it was far more stimulating and more passionate. His lips burned as their mouths played with each other. He could taste her on his tongue, and it was intoxicating. His hand traveled up from her hip and caressed her breast through the fabric of her blouse and bra. Damn blouse! God-Damn Bra!
Hermione's hands also traveled, but they traveled south whereas Harry's had gone north. Her hands stopped to playfully tweak his nipples. Harry felt aroused, and a pang of jealousy brought on by the pinch of Hermione's fingers: 'If she can play with my nipples, why can't I play with hers? Lousy Damn blouse! Lousy God‑Damn Bra!'
It was at this moment that 'Harry, Jr. ' completely woke up. He started shouting, "Hey, hey, what about me? Don't forget about me! I'm right down here!"
It was as if Hermione had heard the organ's pleas.
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Her hands left Harry's chest, and in a few deft moves, freed /'Harry, Jr. '/. Suddenly, as she gripped his member, Hermione stopped kissing Harry. He was about to ask her why she had sto.
