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