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