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