Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor
Chapter Sixteen: “… on a very special episode of…”
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 Sixteen Summary: Prepare to shout “IT’S ABOUT TIME!” or “IT TOOK THEM LONG ENOUGH!”
Try as she might, Hermione wasn’t able to get a third rise out of ‘Harry, Jr.’. And boy, did she try; the witch worked on the flaccid organ with her usual determination until her tongue got slightly numb. Harry was ready for yet another go about forty five minutes later, but seeing that Hermione’s tongue was a little sore they weren’t able to do it. So the two lovers postponed the “Let’s beat Ron’s record” for another day. But Harry wasn’t one to let a moment like this pass him by, so he ravished his girlfriend until his tongue got numb as well. Of course he used his love-core to boost his Parsletongue magic to do so… not that Hermione complained. Unless you’d consider the pleasurable gurgling noises she made before she passed out a complaint.
Harry laid next to Hermione on the couch while she slept and silently congratulated himself on how well he had satisfied her. After a while of just watching his girlfriend sleep peacefully, Harry got a little bored and he played with her boobs a bit. Mind you he didn’t molest her or anything; he just squashed them together and imagined what it would look like to have his penis in between them. Her wonderful breasts weren’t as large as Luna’s – which Harry was happy about, Luna’s tits were too damned big – but Harry reckoned that his girlfriend’s boob were large enough to wedge ‘Harry, Jr.’ in between. Of course, he doubted that she would ever agree to such an activity. Harry decided to put that little fantasy away with the “Hello Kitty” lingerie as something that he’d never bring up to Hermione.
Early the next morning, Hedwig returned from delivering the altered Magic of Making Love to Remus and Tonks. Harry made a silent prayer that Remus wouldn’t suspect that it was a tampered copy and would fall for his and Hermione’s trap.
*
Harry’s prayer was answered a little after supper that night, when the flames in the fireplace in the Gryffindor Common Room turned green and Tonks’ face magically appeared. Just one look at Tonks and Harry could tell that she was a little haggard. Her hair was very messy and tossed this way and that. It was obvious that she had been sweating profusely. In other words; she looked like she had been shagged rotten.
“Hey you two, am I interrupting?” Tonks asked with a weary quaver in her voice. Harry noted that she didn’t use her trademark greeting of “Whotcher.”
“No, not really,” Harry said, trying desperately to fight the smile that was threatening to split his face open. If he guessed right, Remus and Tonks were stuck in a compromising position as they spoke. “Are you okay, Tonks? You sound a little… /spent/.”
Hermione suddenly became very interested in the book that she was reading; she held it very close to her face. Of course she was really trying to hide her snicker caused by Harry’s “spent” comment.
“Um… no, I’m fine…” Tonks said with a hint of suspicion in her voice.
Harry was having a great amount of difficulty concealing his joy over the obviously successful prank. In his mind’s eye, he could see Remus and Tonks in an awkward position, literally stuck together at the bits. Harry reckoned that the two lovers would have to be in the doggie-style position (or ‘wolfie-style’ in honor of Remus’ lycanthrope condition) and that Remus was standing behind Tonks while she was on all fours with her head in the fireplace.
“Would you two mind sending over the original book you copied for us?” Tonks asked.
Apparently, Hermione had had enough and let out a tremendous belly laugh, sending Harry over the edge as well. In a fit of hysterics, Harry collapsed into his girlfriend’s lap and sniggered at Tonks.
“Oh, you cheeky bastards!” Tonks yelled.
“It worked!” Hermione cried out triumphantly.
“Just send the effing book over here!” Tonks commanded.
“But Tonks, if we send it with Hedwig, it might take hours to get there,” Harry pointed out with tears of amusement rolling down his face. “You don’t want to be stuck like that for hours, now do you?”
After a moment where Tonks just scowled at the teens, she gave in. “Fine, floo over here and give us the book,” she said in a defeated way.
“We can receive fire-calls here, but we can’t travel through this fireplace,” stated Hermione. “We’ll have to floo from the Headmistress’ office, so give us a few minutes.”
“Fine,” Tonks grumbled irritably. “That’ll give us to time to make ourselves more presentable.”
And with a pop, Tonks’ face disappeared and the flames turned red once more. Harry grabbed Hermione’s hand and was about to make a mad dash to the Headmistress’ office; he didn’t want to give Remus and Tonks too much time to cover themselves. If they could hurry, he might be able to embarrass them even more if he and Hermione could come stumbling out of the floo while Remus and Tonks were still in an exposed position. But Hermione tugged him back down and pulled out her wand. She placed one of the throw cushions from the couch on the table in front of them and tapped it with her wand while she incanted; “Portus.” Apparently, Hermione wanted to catch Remus and Tonks much like Harry had, but her way was much quicker.
After Harry and Hermione touched the cushion, they were transported to Remus’ cottage – where Harry crashed to the floor as usual. Unfortunately, Remus and Tonks were too fast for them and had somewhat hidden already.
Remus was sitting at the kitchen table, though Harry could tell that the table had been magically altered. It was much larger than the last time he saw it; the table used to be of a normal height and could sit two people comfortably. But now it had obviously been transfigured and was so tall that it covered most of Remus’ chest and was wide enough to seat six people. It was also large enough for a grown witch to hide under.
“Hello you two,” Remus greeted them as if nothing was unusual. “You got here quick.”
Harry was amazed at Remus’ cool poise; the werewolf was sitting calmly at the table and if Harry didn’t know any better, he’d assume that nothing was out of the ordinary. Of course Harry couldn’t completely see Remus’ lower half of his body because of the oversized tablecloth obscuring his view, but it was obvious that Remus was sitting in a very uncomfortable way; the former DADA instructor appeared to be sitting on the very front edge of his chair and Harry could see Remus’ feet sticking out on either side of the table which meant that he had his feet placed very far apart. It was clear that Tonks was under the table and was wedged between Remus’ legs.
“Cut the bloody formality,” a peeved Tonks cursed from somewhere beneath the table. “My legs are asleep.”
Biting back his laughter, Harry waved his wand in Remus and Tonks’ direction and incanted; “/Conquiesco// Fessus!”/ A painful sounding thud from under the table told Harry that he had successfully ended the ritual and that Tonks had fallen. Relief was apparent on Remus’ face.
“Very funny, you two,” complimented Remus who was smiling either at a well played out practical joke or the fact that his lover was no longer glued to his bits.
“Oh yeah, freaking hilarious,” Tonks said from her hiding place mirthlessly.
Remus, Harry, and Hermione all laughed with each other while Harry imagined that Tonks was trying to rub some feeling back into her sleeping legs.
“But this is far from over,” Remus warned and suddenly became serious. It was like someone had flicked a switch and Harry and Hermione stopped laughing. “The pranks I pulled on you were just the tip of the iceberg. You two will know true humiliation before I’m done.”
Harry felt very cold. What would Remus do to them? Would it be horrific? An image popped in Harry’s mind of a gender switching prank where he would be called “Harriett” or “Harri” (note the “i” instead of “y”) for short and Hermione would be called “Herman.” The raven haired wizard gulped in fear.
“Okay, off with you two,” Remus said with a cheeriness to his voice. “Enjoy yourselves… while you can.”
*
After Harry and Hermione took their Portkey cushion back to the Gryffindor Common Room, they rushed to the Library and studied as many Detection Charms and Wards as they could. They vowed that they would check every bit of food they ate and every post they received for any hexes or charms that Remus might have put on them.
*
The day after they met with Remus and Tonks (or rather the day after they pulled a prank on the older couple and Remus threatened them), Harry grew concerned over Ron and Luna’s long absence. He had not seen or heard from either one since Gin-Gin’s birthday. So Harry decided to use the floo to contact Mrs. Weasley at the Burrow.
After the flames in the fireplace turned green, Harry stuck his head into them and called out the destination; “The Burrow.” His head spun and spun until he saw the familiar sights of the Weasley kitchen.
“Mrs. Weasley?” Harry called out. “Hello, anyone there?”
A moment later, a not very jolly looking Mrs. Weasley walked into view. In fact, she looked like she was alternating between crying hysterically and screaming in rage.
“Hello Harry,” she said somewhat coolly. Normally, when Mrs. Weasley greeted Harry, her voice was usually warm and kind. This new tone made Harry a little worried.
“Um, is everything okay, Mrs. Weasley?” Harry asked hesitantly.
“I’m still upset with my youngest son,” she said. The anger in her voice was barely contained. “When you and Hermione set Ron up with Luna, I know you two had only Ron’s best interest in mind. But there are procedures we must follow.”
“What kind of procedures?”
“I really can’t blame you and Hermione,” Molly stated. “You two grew up in the Muggle world, and it’s such an old custom. You couldn’t possibly know about it.”
“What custom, ma’am?”
“It just infuriates me!” the Weasley matriarch growled, ignoring Harry’s question. “Both Ron and Luna should’ve remembered! They had no excuse! They had this coming to them, I can tell you,” Mrs. Weasley continued grumbling under her breath and walked out of Harry’s view. He could still hear her seconds later mumbling for a moment; “Silly teenagers, never thinking about what could happen,” then shouting at Ron as if he was standing right there in front of her; “I RAISED YOU BETTER THAN THAT, YOUNG MAN!”
Harry pulled his head out of the floo realizing that Mrs. Weasley was still too upset and wouldn’t give him any information about Ron.
*
This was it; tomorrow was the day that Harry would make love to Hermione! The potion needed for the ritual would be complete and then Harry would have real sex! The idea of losing his virginity was a dream ever since hairs started sprouting out in ‘Harry, Jr.’ s attic. Added to his puberty-long dream of sex, he was going to sleep with the most wonderful witch in the whole wide world!
Of course he was too nervous to bring up his excitement to Hermione. They spent the evening before the ritual sitting on the couch in silence. One look at Hermione told Harry that she was as anxious as he was. After an awkward goodnight kiss, Harry and Hermione went to their separate rooms for the night.
Of course Harry couldn’t sleep. No, he was far too nervous for that. He found himself lying in his bed staring at the clock on his dresser; counting the minutes. ‘Soon,’ he told himself, /’it will be tomorrow’/. And the moment the minute and hour hands touched the number twelve, Harry jumped out of bed and he started to bolt to the door. But then he regained his senses; it didn’t matter if technically it was a new day. What was he going to do; run down to the Common Room and shout up the stairs leading up to Hermione’s room and shout /”It’s tomorrow, Hermione, let’s get cracking!”/? No, that was just pathetic and sad.
Harry forced himself to lie back down and wait for the morning. He looked at the clock and saw that it was already 12:01; that meant that morning was just a few short hours away! In no time, he’d be making love to his girlfriend. He reasoned that if he actually fell asleep, those few short hours would just fly past.
So Harry closed his eyes and waited for sleep… and waited. After what felt like nearly an hour of tossing and turning, Harry rolled onto his back and stared at the canopy covering his bed. He tried to calm himself; he figured that he couldn’t sleep because he was too nervous about the ritual and so he pushed the thought of he and Hermione giving each other their virginity out of his mind. Unfortunately, this led to Harry thinking of his performance.
Would he have the same problem he had when he had first thought that he was going to sleep with Hermione? ‘Flaccid organ’ was such a dreadful phrase to Harry at that moment.
Or perhaps he’d get too excited and finish before the ritual even started, like he had after Ginny’s party. Harry imagined himself cumming in his boxers again when Hermione wasn’t even ready to start.
Or worst yet; would he suffer from both of these situations at the same time? Harry imagined that he would suffer from a panic attack where ‘Harry, Jr.’ would hide under its overcoat and spit out the contents of his baggage in a defensive action, much like how a baby vulture would vomit on its attackers.
Harry took a calming breath and tried to reassure himself; it was just nerves. He reckoned that once the moment came, he’d do just fine. And seeing that he had spent what felt like hours and hours berating himself over his performance, that moment would be just an hour or two away. Harry turned and saw that the clock was now reading 12:14.
This was going to be a long night.
*
Harry ended up having a horrible night. He’d finally fell asleep at a quarter of three, but was plagued by a bothersome dream. It was very similar to a dream he had a few weeks before where he was reading a book on lighthouses on the shore by the sea. But in this most recent dream, the book only contained pictures of lighthouses that had crumbled to rubble and the sea had dried up. What was even more bothersome was that he dreamt Hermione was criticizing everything he did. According to dream-Hermione’s comments, Harry couldn’t even turn the pages in the book properly.
“No Harry!” dream-Hermione snapped. “You’re doing it all wrong! You’ll never finish it if you can’t turn the pages! I guess I’ll have to let you start and finish it myself after you’re done! And here I was hoping you’d be good enough, this just proves that I’ll always have to finish it myself. Or maybe ask Dobby for help.”
/ /But Harry’s worries over that silly dream vanished the moment he entered the Common Room to see the most wonderful vision he had ever seen; a smiling Hermione holding a vial of red liquid – mind you it would’ve been an even better vision if Hermione was naked instead of wearing some slacks and a blouse like she was, but Harry still liked it.
“Are you ready?” Hermione asked.
And Harry responded by squeaking, “Yes.”
“So am I,” agreed Hermione, although she didn’t squeak. “Let me just go over some Anti-Conception Charms.”
Hermione sat down on the couch and flipped open The Magic of Making Love to one of the pages near the end and quickly read.
“I read up on these before I started brewing this potion,” she said. “But it doesn’t hurt to be on the safe side. I love you, Harry, and I do want your children… but not right now.”
“Definitely,” Harry echoed.
Hermione paused and her eyes bulged.
“What’s wrong?” asked Harry.
“There’s a warning printed in the fine print under the list of Anti-Conception Charms,” she stated. There was a hint of panic in her voice and Harry was instantly worried that she would tell him that they would have to wait another week for the charms to work. He had a very difficult last few hours; he doubted that he could last another week. “It states:” Hermione began to read aloud, “/’If, for some reason you feel compelled to combine The Sticky Widget and Stamina rituals, you will have performed the Prewett Ritual as well – see page 769. This obscure combination of rituals make any and all Anti-Conception Charms moot.'”/
/”What is this /’Prewett Ritual’ and why would the charms be /’moot’/?” Harry asked with dread. As Hermione thumbed through the book looking for the Prewett Ritual, Harry wondered what he and Hermione had done to Remus and Tonks. He had simply wanted to prank them, and now he was concerned that something bad had happened.
“Here it is,” announced Hermione and started to read the passage aloud. “‘The Prewett Ritual – named after Guinevere and Sebastian Prewett who were the first to accidentally perform this ritual back in 1784 – can also be created as a byproduct of combining two other rituals, The Sticky Widget and Stamina Rituals. This ritual causes several things to occur. Firstly, the wizard’s healthy sperm output is increased nearly one hundredfold.'”
/ /Harry was about to breathe a sigh of relief; he could live with the consequences of tricking Remus and Tonks into performing this Prewett Ritual if all that happened was that Remus came a lot, but he stopped short when Hermione continued to read.
“‘Next the witch’s reproductive cycle is magically altered so that she is…'” Hermione paused in her reading and became very pale. “‘… so that she is ovulating.'”
“W-what?” Harry stammered.
“‘Even if the witch is in the middle of her menstrual cycle, the ritual will cause her eggs to receive the wizard’s sperm,'” Hermione continued to read. Her voice grew weaker with each word. “‘Another aspect of the ritual is that it negates any and all contraceptives and anti-conception methods including all Muggle methods as well. This side-effect will insure that the witch will become pregnant. In other words; do NOT perform this ritual unless you wish to become a parent.'”
/ /”Whoops,” Harry muttered.
“‘Fourthly,” Hermione continued yet again.
Harry was about to scream “THERE’S A ‘FOURTHLY?” but her recital of the passage cut him off.
“‘The Prewett Ritual will accelerate the growth of the fetus by five times, cutting the time of pregnancy down to fifty to sixty days. Note, once the baby is born, the ritual is completed. The new born baby will then grow at a normal rate.”
/ /”So what does that means?” Harry asked on the edge of shock.
“Tonks and Remus accidentally performed the ritual three days ago,” explained Hermione in a monotone, apparently, she too was nearly in shock. “It means that she’s been pregnant for the equivalent of two weeks of a normal term. And that she’ll give birth in another seven to eight weeks – give or take a few days.”
“Whoops,” Harry repeated. His simple prank of having Remus and Tonks being stuck in an awkward predicament had just escalated into a life altering event. To Harry’s recollection, Tonks and Remus had only been officially dating for a few months, and now the two were going to have a baby in two months. Would this be a happy thing for the older couple? Or would it be considered traumatic and lead to them being torn apart?
“We have to tell them,” Hermione commanded and Harry agreed. Harry and Hermione, who had the special book clutched in her arms, dashed to the Headmistress’ office and Harry was the first one through the floo. He crashed onto the floor of Remus’ kitchen. Before he could get up, Hermione landed roughly on him.
“You know it’s rude not to ask if you can floo into somebody’s house,” Tonks informed the two teens as she sipped on a mug of coffee. Remus was busy reading the morning edition of the Daily Prophet and he nodded his head in greeting to Harry and Hermione.
“Is that regular or decaffeinated?” asked Harry indicating the coffee while he got to his feet.
“Regular,” the pink haired Auror replied.
“You’d better switch,” Harry muttered and he helped Hermione to her feet.
“Why?” Tonks asked.
Harry and Hermione looked at each other, both silently asking each other who should explain the situation to Remus and Tonks. And the two came to a decision on who that should be. You see, Harry was very brave and he reckoned that he should be the one. But Hermione was brave as well, and more to the point; she had a way with words. Meaning that she could calmly explain what happened and ease the older couple into the news. Whereas Harry would blurt out “You’re pregnant. Sorry about that.”
“We have something very important to tell you,” Hermione said gravely.
Obviously picking up on the brunette witch’s tone, Remus folded his paper and suggested, “Let’s go to the parlor then.”
The two couples walked to the adjoining room where Remus and Tonks sat on the couch. Harry and Hermione stood in front of them much like criminals who were just proven guilty had to stand in front of the magistrate as they waited for their sentence.
“You remember that prank we pulled on you?” Hermione began.
“Of course we do,” Tonks responded. “I’m still sore.”
“Well, there’s a problem,” Hermione stated while wringing her hands.
“What kind of problem?” Remus asked calmly.
“Well, our prank had you unknowingly mix two rituals. But when they’re combined a third ritual is performed that we didn’t know about,” admitted Hermione.
“Are we in danger?” Remus asked, who was still calm.
Hermione looked at Harry for support. Seeing that Harry didn’t think being pregnant was “dangerous” per say, he answered, “No.”
Remus and Tonks sighed. It was evident that they both were worried that the teens were going to tell them something along the lines of “you have two days to live.”
“All right then, what’s this third ritual do?” Remus asked and sat back in his chair and looked very calm as if he was listening to Hermione give a school report.
“It’s called the ‘Prewett Ritual’ and it causes the wizard to produce a hundred times the amount of sperm he usually does,” explained Hermione.
“That would explain why you were so messy,” Tonks playfully chided her lover.
“And it makes the witch ovulate,” continued Hermione.
“I might worry about that if I hadn’t placed half a dozen charms on me before we did it,” Tonks said with a smile.
“But the ritual overrides all charms and methods,” Hermione countered.
“Ri-i-ight,” Tonks mocked.
“It does,” argued Hermione.
“I’ll admit that it was a good prank you two pulled,” Remus stated with a happy little smile. “But this is a little juvenile. I expected something more from you two besides ‘You’re pregnant.'”
/ /”This isn’t a prank,” Harry urged. He pulled the book from Hermione’s arms and opened it to the page containing the Prewett ritual and handed it to Remus. “Look for yourself.”
“And how do I know that you didn’t alter this book like you did with the copy you gave us earlier?” a still smiling Remus asked. It was clear that he thought that he had caught and sidestepped Harry and Hermione’s latest practical joke.
“But we’re not joking!” Hermione pleaded with tears in her eyes. “It causes the fetus to grow rapidly and you’ll give birth in two months!”
“Okay fine,” Tonks said pulling out her wand. “I’ll end this joke with a Pregnancy Check Charm.”
The Auror wave her wand over her belly and incanted “Concepito Disquisitio.”
A whitish haze appeared over her stomach.
“In a few seconds, it’ll change color depending on whether I’m pregnant or not,” Tonks explained. “If it turns red, which I’m sure it will because this is a weak prank, I’m not with child,” she said humorously. “But if it turns green, well then I’ll need a baby shower, won’t I?”
It was clear by her tone that Tonks was not taking Harry and Hermione seriously.
“And where did you learn that little charm?” Remus asked in a fake disapproving manner.
“I had a near miss back in my seventh year at Hogwarts,” admitted Tonks. “You should’ve seen the look on my boyfriend’s face when I told him I thought I was preg-“
Any further remarks Tonks wanted to make were cut short when the whitish haze turned a rich green color.
“I’m pregnant,” stated Tonks much like someone would state an obvious thing such as/ “water is wet.”/
/”Yes, you are,” confirmed Hermione. Harry was a little worried over the Auror’s reaction. It was evident that the revelation of her pregnancy hadn’t penetrated her mind; as if the phrase “I’m pregnant”/ held no real meaning to Tonks.
Remus was still smiling like it was a practical joke.
“I’m pregnant,” repeated Tonks. However, her tone wasn’t lifeless as before. No, her voice was full of panic and doubt. Tears of fear and trepidation shined in her dark eyes.
“Um, yes,” Hermione reasserted apprehensively.
Remus was smiling as before, but this time, he was pitching backwards. His head hit the cushions of the couch and he fainted… while still smiling mind you.
“I’m pregnant,” the Auror nearly shouted; her voice full of anger and her face twisted in rage.
“Y-y-yes,” stammered Hermione with fear. Harry was genuinely concerned with Tonks’ rapid and extreme emotional mood changes. The first time she said the phrase, she was emotionless, as if it had not sunk in. The second time she uttered the phrase, it appeared that being pregnant was a horrible thing that should be feared. But her most recent reaction put Harry on high alert. Tonks really didn’t like the idea of being with child. In fact, it looked like she hated it and was in a rage. A rage she was going to take out on he and Hermione just because they had been the ones who had brought her the bad news.
Harry moved to pull his wand out; he was intending to Stun Tonks for both her sake – such an outburst of rage couldn’t be good for the baby – and for his and Hermione’s. But the moment his fingers touched his holly wand, Tonks said the phrase again.
“I’m pregnant,” she said with tears cascading down her face. But this time, the tears were not caused by doubt or even anger, but pure joy. The biggest smile Harry had ever seen on Tonks spread across her face and her cheeks glowed with happiness. The pink haired witch’s smile combined with her glow made her incredibly beautiful in Harry’s eyes. He found himself dreaming of making Hermione that beautifully happy one day. Tonks lovingly held her belly in her hands and sobbed with joy.
“Are you okay?” Hermione asked. It was apparent by her voice that Hermione was uncertain whether or not Tonks would have another mood swing.
“Yes, I’m perfect,” Tonks hiccupped and great globs of tears fell from her eyes. It was at this point that Remus regained consciousness. The Marauder stood on unsteady knees. Tonks turned to her lover and joyously heralded “We’re going to have a baby!”
Remus placed his hands on Tonks’ belly along with hers and he started to cry as well. Harry blinked and he noticed that he too was starting to cry out of happiness for his friends.
Hermione rushed to Remus and Tonks and threw her arms around them and joyously proclaimed; “I’m so happy for you two.”
Tonks returned the hug and said; “You kids better take off,” she paused to wipe her tears that were still streaming. “‘Cus I’m gonna fuck this old wolf silly in about two seconds and I’m not like you lot; I don’t want an audience while we’re going to try to make twins.”
With the prospect of a mind-blowing shag, Remus ushered Harry and Hermione to fireplace politely but rather quickly. The werewolf threw some floo powder in the fire and Hermione stepped in. She announced /”Hogwarts; Headmistress’ Office” /and disappeared. Harry quickly followed her. But as he spun out of Remus’ fireplace he heard joyous giggles coming from the cottage and Harry could have sworn he heard Remus and Tonks’ clothing being discarded in a very quick fashion. When Harry fell out of the Headmistress’ fireplace, he turned to Hermione and asked; “They can’t make twins that way can they?”
“No,” she said while dabbing the tears from her eyes. “Tonks was just kidding about making twins. I hope. But I don’t think she was kidding about the silly shag.”
Hermione helped Harry to stand and whispered in his ear: “Speaking of shagging, let’s make love.”
It was at that precise moment that ‘Harry, Jr.’ sprang to life. His penis instantly swelled to its full erect state in eager anticipation. Harry was more than willing to do it right then and there and a naughty idea occurred to him.
“Do you want to do it here?” he asked with a wicked grin.
Hermione returned the grin and it was obvious that naughty-Hermione was very keen on the idea of making love in the Headmistress’ office.
But before Hermione could respond in the positive, a stern voice answered for her.
“I would advise against fornicating in my office,” Professor McGonagall stated firmly.
“Oh Professor, we didn’t see you,” Hermione said in a very embarrassed tone.
“Obviously,” the Headmistress said simply.
For a full twenty seconds no one moved or talked. Harry and Hermione stood in front of McGonagall nervously as she eyed them. It seemed to him that McGonagall didn’t officially approve of the idea of Harry and Hermione having sex, but that she also didn’t disapprove either. So he felt that the Headmistress was giving her silent approval to go ahead and shag… just not in her office. Harry took Hermione’s hand and led her slowly out of the office. After he closed the door behind him, he heard Dumbledore’s painting comment, “Ah, young love.”
The two lovers walked briskly back to the Common Room. Harry felt like sprinting there so that he and Hermione could make love all the sooner, but he realized that it would seem desperate. That and he reckoned that he’d be too winded to perform.
Harry became very excited as he saw the portrait of the Fat Lady come into view. In just a few short minutes, he and Hermione would share each other’s virginity.
But as in all things in life – seemingly more often in Harry’s life than most others – things don’t always go as planned.
With a loud crack, a small creature wearing a ridiculously large sombrero appeared between the two teen lovers and the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room.
“Hola! Como esta?” Dobby heralded. The little house-elf promptly pitched forward and fell flat on his face due to the weight of the sombrero that he was wearing.
Harry was sorely tempted to just wave “hello” to Dobby as he stepped over the house-elf while heading to the Common Room so he could have sex. Despite how much he wanted to make love to Hermione, he couldn’t just ignore Dobby. Harry cursed his well mannered nature.
With a grunt, Harry hoisted Dobby to his feet.
“We’s be -” Dobby began but fell once again. The hat was rather large; Harry reckoned that if he wore the large hat that he’d hurt his neck because of the sheer weight of it. Hermione helped the house elf up this time and Harry placed one of his hands under Dobby’s arm to support him.
“We’s be back!” Dobby cheered. Harry shared a worried look with Hermione and he knew she was thinking the same thing he was; now that the house-elves were back, the little creatures would try to put a damper on their activities.
“We’s done telling every house-elfs in the world,” Dobby continued. “But we’s not finding Kreacher”
With a desperate gleam in her eye, Hermione suggested; “Well, take every elf and go tell him then.” It was desperate, because Harry knew that it would take the house-elves less than five minutes to Apparate to wherever Kreacher was, tell him, and return. Harry doubted that they could have sex in that short amount of time. Then he did a quick calculation in his head; if he and Hermione ran into the Common Room, bolted up the stairs while tearing off each other’s clothes, hopped into bed and if they were quick at the act, it just might work. Of course if he were Ron, he’d have no problem finishing before the house-elves returned seeing that he lasted around two minutes according to Luna.
“Oh, no’s, we’s can’t be finding Kreacher because Kreacher can’t be’s found,” informed Dobby.
“He must be somewhere under the Fidelius Charm,” offered Hermione.
“Is Dobby interrupting something, Harry Potter sir and Great One?” Dobby asked hesitantly.
“It’s nothing,” Hermione began and the house-elf’s eyes bulged – well, even more than they usually do. Harry followed Dobby’s eyes and saw that the little creature was staring directly at the bulge caused by an erect ‘Harry, Jr.’. Apparently, Harry’s organ had been hard ever since he offered to perform the ritual in McGonagall’s office.
“Oh, Dobby is being sorry,” Dobby said while blushing. “You’s two is being /busy/,” he said the word “busy” much like a six year old would say a naughty word; soft and under his breath. “Dobby will distract the others.”
“Thanks Dobby,” Hermione said with a smile. Harry thought that Dobby was a true friend.
The house-elf disappeared and the two rushed into the Common Room.
“Your room,” ordered Hermione and Harry led the way. He ran up the stairs while Hermione followed.
Once they got in the room, Harry spun around with his eyes closed and kissed his girlfriend passionately. He moaned while his lips traced her wrinkly skin… then it hit him; Hermione didn’t have wrinkly skin.
“Ah, Harry,” Hermione said nervously.
Harry opened his eyes to find that he was passionately kissing the cheek of a fairly old house-elf. The old house-elf was standing on the shoulders of another house-elf. Apparently, Dobby’s distraction hadn’t worked.
“Gah!” Harry grunted as he recoiled. The two elves gave Harry the evil eye.
“We’s knows what you’s been doing!” the elf on the bottom scolded.
“You’s trick us house-elves,” the old one added with a hiss. “You’s just tells us to go spread the word just so’s that you’s two could do nasty things together.”
“Piss off!” Harry growled at them. His patience was wearing thin. These house-elves were impeding on his sex-time. The sooner these two house-elves left, the sooner he could make love to Hermione.
“No’s,” the old one said defiantly.
Hermione commanded: “Leave us alone!”
“Fabbie sorry, Oh Great One,” the old one, apparently Fabbie, said rebelliously. “We’s be here to be protecting the Great One’s virtue!”
“But the Great One doesn’t want her virtue any more,” Hermione argued. It was strange for Harry to see her refer to herself in the third person.
“No, we’s knows what’s best,” Fabbie stated confidently. “We’s not be like the heathens who says the Great One can be making fun times with The One of the Mark.”
Harry wondered briefly if it was even possible to make love to Hermione while these two house-elves physically blocked them from touching each other. In an attempt to see if it was feasible, Harry made a move toward Hermione.
Fabbie hopped off of the other elf and pushed with all of his weight against Harry. Thankfully, his hands were on Harry’s hips, if Fabbie had decided to move his hand in a little, he’d be pushing on ‘Harry, Jr.’ and that wouldn’t be good for Harry.
“Let’s just go, Harry,” Hermione said knowingly. Judging by her tone, Harry was positive that Hermione had a plan. He took her hand and the couple ran out of Harry’s room and out through the Common Room into the hall. Hermione led the way down a familiar path; they were heading to the Room of Requirement! She was brilliant! Once they got there, they could just ask the Room not to let any house-elves in and they’d be unmolested… err… well they’d be molesting each other kind of, but this way, they wouldn’t be bothered by house-elves.
As they approached the area where the Room of Requirement was, Harry’s heart sunk. The door was visible and open, which meant it was being used! The couple approached the door and the sounds of a party reached their ears. When they looked into the Room, it was packed with house-elves wearing party hats.
“Welcomes to ‘The One of the Mark ain’t gonna get any’ /party!” one tiny elf heralded and ushered Harry and Hermione in. Any doubt as to if the party’s theme was directed at Harry was thrown out the window the moment he saw a giant poster with his likeness on the wall. On the poster version of him, Harry noticed that there was a very large international “no” /symbol drawn over his crotch, as if it was warning everyone that his genitals were off-limits.
“Whose is that?” Hermione asked pointing to a large and very detailed painting of a vagina. Harry didn’t need to ask who it belonged to; he had become intimately familiar with it over the past few weeks.
“It be the /’Bald Feline’,/” one elf answered and every house-elf bowed to the painting in prayer.
“That’s my pussy?” Hermione asked, scandalized that a large group of house-elves where paying homage to her naked vagina. Harry, on the other hand thought it was very appropriate to worship her flower; he did it quite often. He wondered for a moment how the house-elves were able to paint an exact replica of his girlfriend’s flower, but then he remembered that every single house-elf in the castle got see it up close and in person when they had discovered that she was the Great One.
Realizing that they wouldn’t be able to make love here or anywhere else in the castle, Harry led Hermione out onto the grounds.
“Was that an accurate painting?” Hermione asked.
“Very,” replied Harry while he scanned the surrounding area that would be good enough to hide from the house-elves.
“There,” Hermione pointed off into the distance. Harry looked to where she was pointing and saw the Whomping Willow.
He really wanted to have sex, but under the Whomping Willow? Was Hermione so kinky that the thought of danger turned her on? Or maybe she was hoping that its swinging limbs would deter any house-elf from approaching them while they made love.
“You want to make love under something that could kill us?” Harry asked in amazement.
“No, the Shrieking Shack,” corrected Hermione. “It’s far enough off of school bounds that the elves shouldn’t bother us. That and I doubt that they’d look for us there.”
Harry believed that Hermione deserved a kiss for being so smart and he did just that. As he approached the Whomping Willow, Harry banished a hand-sized rock at the hidden knot at the base of the tree causing the Willow’s limbs to stop their deadly swinging. The two young lovers ran into the tiny opening under the tree and disappeared from view.
The only lights in the dark tunnel were the two thin beams of light emanating from Harry and Hermione’s wands as the two traveled through the tunnel in silence. Harry’s mind was filled with anticipation; what was it going to feel like? Would he feel different after he lost his virginity?
Harry pushed open the trap door and after he pulled himself into the Shrieking Shack, he helped Hermione in. Harry looked around the dark and dust-covered room before asking; “Um, where should we do it?”
“Upstairs, in one of the bedrooms,” offered Hermione nervously while she wiped the sweat from her palms onto her slacks. Harry copied her action because his hands were just as sweaty.
The stairs creaked as they walked up to the top floor. Harry passed the room where he had first met Sirius; the thought of losing his virginity in that same room was almost sacrilegious to him. But a nagging voice in his head, sounding an awful lot like Sirius, was urging him to use that room.
“Do it, man!” the voice sounded. “Who cares about me? Take her wherever you can!”
/ /Even with the voice’s support, Harry opted for another room. He led Hermione into a small bedroom that had an attached loo. From what he could see of the bathroom, the toilet was obviously broken; the pot had snapped off from the wall. Off in the corner of the bedroom was a bed lying on top of a broken frame. Everything in the room was coated in a thick layer of dust and grime.
As she walked to the bathroom, Hermione said “I’ll be out in a minute, I just have to perform an Anti-Conception Charm, and the process is a little awkward.”
After she closed the door, Harry surveyed the room. It really didn’t matter what the room looked like to him. He was a bloke and therefore didn’t care where he would do it just as long as he had sex. But Hermione was special to him; she deserved more than to have her first time on a broken and filthy bed. Thankfully, Harry was a wizard and could use magic to change the room a bit.
Pulling out his wand, Harry figured that he would clean the place and transfigure the bed into something a little more comfortable. Then he realized that with his power boost he could do more than just clean the dust away. Maybe he’d conjure up a few candles for a romantic effect.
He closed his eyes and tapped into his love core by focusing on how much he loved Hermione and waved his wand. Harry didn’t think of any spell in particular as he pushed his magic through his wand. Rather he only thought of turning the room into something more romantic so that it would be more pleasing for Hermione.
Harry’s eyes popped open when he heard thunderously loud sounds from all around him; it sounded as if dozens of planks of wood were being dropped on the floor. What he saw made him lose his breath.
The room was stretching and growing in width and height. New floor boards were appearing in mid-air and falling into the gaps that were created by the expanding room. The broken bed hopped up into the air and began to spin like a top. After a moment, it dropped to the ground with a thud. The bed was now enormous and was covered in the softest looking red satin sheets Harry had ever seen. Dozens and dozens of candles popped into existence – some were placed on top of elegant looking trays, sconces, and holders, while others just hovered in the air as if their were held up by invisible stings from the ceiling – and their wicks lit up. All the dust and muck vanished and a warm red color spread across the walls. Harry gulped in amazement at the room. He had no idea he had such power. Hermione would be so impressed when she came out of the dirty bathroom and saw the changes he made.
“Ah, Harry,” Hermione’s muffled voice sounded from behind the door leading to the loo. “What did you do?”
“I just wanted to make the room look nicer,” Harry answered with pride.
“Would you mind coming in here?” she asked.
Harry walked over and opened the door and what he saw made him a very happy wizard.
Hermione was standing in the middle of the room holding her wand in her hand and wearing not even a stitch of clothing. He really did like seeing her naked.
“What did you do?” Hermione asked again and pointed to the room surrounding her. Harry hesitantly took his eyes off her naked breasts – he’s a bloke – and took in his surroundings.
“Whoops,” muttered Harry.
Apparently, when he transfigured the bedroom, his magic went a little farther. What was once a tiny little loo with a broken toilet was now a bathroom that made the Prefects’ bathroom look like a public toilet in a trashy and rundown bar.
There was a shower stall with nearly twenty shower-heads of various shapes and sizes. In the back of the room was what Harry assumed was the tub. It was a large pool that looked like it could easily hold six people comfortably, and it was cut out of a large boulder. Water cascaded down from a waterfall in the back of the tub.
“I didn’t know…” Harry mumbled.
“I think it’s beautiful,” commented Hermione. Harry felt pride at making Hermione happy.
“Why are you still dressed?” Hermione asked, pulling Harry out of his awe.
“Sorry ’bout that,” Harry murmured while he shed his clothing.
“Now, about what’s going to happen,” Hermione began. “From everything I’ve read and heard about a witch’s first time, it’s going to be painful.”
Harry could tell that Hermione was anxious and was explaining what was going to happen to ease her nerves.
“You’ll need to go slow,” she continued. “I’ve heard that a wizard sometimes gets carried and he goes fast, but you’ll need to control yourself.”
“I will,” agreed Harry as he discarded the last of his clothing.
“Now the ritual is fairly simple,” Hermione added. “I’ll just take this potion, say an incantation and then during the… the act, our magics will mingle. Doing this will give me a fifty to one-hundred percent boost in my power.”
“Okay,” Harry said.
Hermione picked up the potion and drank it in one gulp. She then muttered; “Cornu Confodio Cruento.”
/ /Hermione nodded her head, indicating that she was ready. Harry led her to the large bed and kissed her. She sat on the bed and suggested, “Maybe you should do that thing with you tongue; you know, just to help me relax.”
Harry was more than happy to comply. He helped her ease back onto the bed and then knelt on the floor in between her legs. Harry kissed, licked, and suckled her flower with his love charged Parsletongue magic for a few moments until Hermione was very wet.
“That’s good enough,” Hermione panted and Harry stood up. The witch repositioned herself so that she was lying on the bed and Harry took his place next to her.
“How do you want to do this?” asked Harry.
“You on top,” she said. Hermione spread her legs and Harry crawled on top of her. He followed her hand with his eyes as she slowly reached down in between her own legs. With her fingers, Hermione gently pried apart her petals.
“Okay, I’m ready,” Hermione announced. “Just go slowly.”
Harry nodded and guided his manhood toward his lover’s womanhood. Slowly, he pushed into her. He was able to put his crown just inside her lips when he felt a barrier.
“Go ahead,” Hermione said. “I trust you.”
Harry gently forced his way past her maidenhead and broke it. Hermione bit her lip to stop a painful groan.
“Are you okay?” Harry asked with genuine concern. If she said no, he would pull out even though he wanted to make love to her desperately. His need for this moment was not as great as his concern for Hermione’s well-being.
“Just give me a second,” Hermione requested and Harry waited patiently. After a few moments, Hermione told him, “Go ahead, but slowly please.”
He slowly and carefully pushed himself into his lover; inch by inch, until he was fully inside her. Harry paused and checked on Hermione.
“How is it?”
“It’s not incredibly painful,” Hermione admitted. “It hurts a little and it’s slightly uncomfortable. How is it for you?”
He was ashamed to admit that he loved the sensation while she didn’t. It felt wonderful; she was so warm and the sensation of her wrapped around him was intoxicating. It felt perfect and he never wanted this feeling to end. Even though he hadn’t answered, it was obvious that Hermione knew what he was feeling. She tenderly stroked his face and said, “Don’t worry; I think I’ll grow to love it too.”
Harry kissed her and slowly slid back. With agonizing slowness, Harry moved back and forth inside Hermione. She was correct when she told him that most men got caught up in the moment and would just thrust away; Harry fought the urge to do just that.
Hermione’s face was a mixture of discomfort and happiness. The discomfort was obviously caused by this being her first time. Thankfully, Harry was so excited that he reckoned that he wouldn’t last much longer before climaxing and Hermione’s discomfort would lessen. But her happiness was a little hard to pin down for Harry at first. He had no idea how she could be happy in a situation like this that caused her pain. Then it hit him. She was happy because she was with him and she was giving him so much pleasure. She was in discomfort and some pain but she wanted to give him this out of love.
A sudden warmth filled Harry’s heart as he looked into Hermione’s beautiful hazel eyes. But before he could say the words, she said them first.
“I love you so much, Harry,” she said blissfully.
The warmth that he was feeling rapidly spread throughout his body and he could feel it flow into Hermione’s. He continued to slowly pump and his vision became blurry.
“I love you too,” Harry groaned out as he came and then he blacked out.
*
“Harry wake up,” a happy Hermione stirred Harry from his dreamless slumber. It felt as if his eyelids were made of lead; he had to struggle to open them. He felt completely drained, as if he had just ran a marathon and then wrestled with Grawp. After a moment of internal struggle, Harry was able to open his eyes to find Hermione sitting on his lap. It was obvious that she had cleaned herself up and had put on her knickers and bra.
“How long was I out?” Harry asked groggily as he reached for his glasses.
“I’m not sure,” Hermione said. It was evident from the tone in her voice that Hermione was very happy. Mind you, she wasn’t as euphoric as the time Harry had hit her with the super-charged Cheering Charm, but Hermione was truly happy. “I lost consciousness right after you did. But I woke up about an hour ago and showered.”
Harry looked at his girlfriend in wonder. Her skin was flush and she had a ridiculously big grin plastered on her face.
“I love you,” Hermione announced and leaned down to kiss Harry on the lips. She lay on top of Harry, apparently content with just lying there while she playfully ran her fingers through his hair.
“Did the ritual work?” Harry asked.
“I don’t know,” Hermione answered. “I haven’t performed any spells, yet.”
Harry was about to suggest that she check out her power when something finally caught his eye. He was surprised that he hadn’t seen it when she had leaned in to kiss him. But now, as he looked into her eyes, Harry was very surprised to see that her hazel eyes had a number of prominent green flecks in them. The emerald patches even seemed to sparkle; whether the sparkle was magical in nature or just caused by her happiness, Harry didn’t know. Hermione never said anything about expecting a physical change in her appearance after the ritual. Knowing Hermione, if there was a change caused by the ritual, she would have told him about it. So Harry reckoned that the prominent green flecks in her irises were unexpected.
“Ah, Hermione…”
To Be Continued