by Harry Potter
Once more, Harry forgot to breathe. To say that Hermione looked stunning in her red and gold gown (apparently, “The Great Purple Debate” was lost by both lilac and mauve when this little red and gold number entered the fray) was an understatement. The neckline of the gown showed just a touch of enticing cleavage and the fabric hugged Hermione’s form. Her hair was tastefully done up in a loose bun, which accentuated her beautiful smile and eyes.
“Hello Harry,” Hermione greeted him. “You look very handsome.”
Harry tried to return the compliment by saying that she was a ‘stunning vision of beauty.’ Unfortunately, she was such a stunning vision of beauty that Harry found it very difficult to speak properly. The best compliment that he could voice was: “guh... uhh... muh... err... wow!” He ended this wonderfully poetic statement with what would be best described as a soft gurgling noise.
Hermione blushed at Harry’s attempted compliment and after a moment, became very serious.
“Harry, about Ron...” she began. “I think I should be the one to tell him about... us.”
Harry suddenly felt very bad. He hadn’t thought about Ron at all in the past two days. He dreaded how Ron would feel when he found out that Harry had gotten together with the girl he fancied. But Ron was his best mate, and in Harry’s mind, he should be the one to break the news to Ron.
“No, I’ll do it,” Harry stated. “He’s my best mate...”
“And I was the one dating him,” Hermione interrupted. “I thought about this all night, Harry. I’ve already planned on what to tell him.”
“Are you sure?” Harry asked unsure with the plan.
“Yes, I am,” Hermione said confidently. “But, could you be with me when I tell him?”
“Yes, anything for you Hermione,” Harry said and stroked her arm reassuringly.
A gentle cough drew the two teens’ attention to Remus who was standing a few feet away from them. He had his ever-present kind and patient look in his eyes, while Tonks, who was standing arm in arm with Remus, still had that unsettling devilish look in her eyes. Harry shivered at that look and wondered when Tonks would spring into action by saying something like: “Cor, Harry, you’ve got some dribble on your chin... oh wait, that’s just Hermione’s dribble.”
“If you two are ready, we’ll go to Minerva’s office and portkey to the Burrow,” stated Remus.
After greeting McGonagall in the Headmistress’ office, the group circled around an old tea kettle. McGonagall gently tapped the kettle and said “Portus.”
Everyone placed their finger on the portkey and Harry prepared himself for the familiar tug behind his navel. Within seconds, Harry felt the tug of portkey travel. Everyone landed on the grassy knoll behind the Burrow with elegance and style, that is, everyone except Harry. The young wizard landed painfully on a rock; unfortunately for Harry it wasn’t a rock. It was a very angry and perturbed Gnome.
“GET IT OFF OF ME!” Harry bellowed as the tiny creature tried to bite and claw at his face.
“Pestis Avolo!” Remus incanted and the pesky Gnome rocketed off of Harry’s face. Hermione quickly helped Harry to his feet.
Harry gazed in wonder at the field behind the Burrow. It had been magically transformed into something out of a fairy tale. Beautiful and brightly colored flowers and plants bordered where the guest were to be seated. Scores of chairs, each one different and unique from the other, as if several people conjured them but didn’t bother to try to make them look alike, were placed in rows in front of a large dais. The dais, where Harry assumed the ceremony would take place, was decorated with intricate lace curtains draped over ivory colored arches and the same colorful flowers that surrounded the guests.
“Remus? Remus Lupin is that you?” a blonde witch called out. “I haven’t seen you since our days at Hogwarts!”
“Chrysanthemum Hamilton, it’s been ages,” Remus replied. The former Marauder turned to Harry and Hermione and said: “You two find some seats; I want to talk to Chrysanthemum and introduce Tonks.”
Harry and Hermione silently took their seats in the back row of the groom’s side and both watched as the guests began to trickle in. At first, they didn’t recognize anyone who had shown up, most of the early guests appeared to be around Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s age. Harry heard Tonks let out a snort and a chuckle and saw that she and Remus were having a laugh while talking to the witch named Chrysanthemum.
“I’m terrified that Tonks will say something embarrassing about us,” Hermione breathed in Harry’s ear. “I just know she’s waiting for the most opportune time for her to do it. And it’ll be the most horrible moment possible for us.”
Harry gulped and nodded his head in agreement.
The pair’s attention was drawn toward a rather large group of people. Some of this boisterous group were carrying magical cameras while others were being very rude by shouting out questions.
“... How well do you know the bride and groom?” asked a man with a whiney tone as three flashes erupted from different cameras.
“Is it standard procedure now to attend every wedding?” a woman with a shrill voice questioned, and four more flashes went off.
“Please, show some respect!” a booming voice commanded, a voice that Harry recognized as belonging to Rufus Scrimgeour. The crowd of reporters stepped back and revealed the Minister of Magic. “Arthur Weasley has been a loyal employee for the Ministry for many years. I came by to give him and his family my regards on this wonderful day,” the Minister stated, a little too mechanically, as if he had been coached to say that exact phrase. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go and find my seat.”
The pack of reporters sulked off to stand behind the rows of chairs. A short rotund man with a walrus-like mustache pushed his way through the dejected reporters.
“What’s that ponce doing here?” Hermione hissed in Harry’s ear after seeing the latest arrival.
“Simple, it’s a social gathering,” explained Harry, sourly, “and Slughorn is nothing more than an attention whore who revels in these situations.”
“Sorry about that,” Remus stated as he and Tonks took the seats next to Harry. “But I haven’t seen Chrysanthemum for ages. She was the most popular girl in the year ahead of us, and we used to always prank her.”
Soft music started to play and the guest became very quiet. All eyes turned to the back row, towards the Burrow, where the bridal party would be coming out of shortly.
The first of the bride’s maids and groom’s men to exit the house was none other than Ron and Ginny. Normally Harry would’ve thought that the dress looked pretty and that the pale green color suited her. But Harry noticed that the gown had a plunging neckline that revealed her humble cleavage. During the last school year, Harry would have been aroused at such a sight. However after the epiphany where Harry realized that Ginny bore a striking resemblance to his mother, he now found the sight of Ginny’s flesh disturbing.
As the siblings walked up the isle, arm in arm, Ginny spotted Harry straight away and acted cool and aloof; as if seeing him was nothing important, something that she was almost bored with. A ridiculously wide grin stretched across Ron’s face when he saw Hermione.
“Oh, no Ron,” Hermione moaned. “Don’t do anything foolish.”
“What makes you think he’ll do anything like that?” asked Harry.
“Because he’s Ron,” Hermione answered simply.
Whereas Ginny acted cool when she saw Harry, Ron’s reaction was somewhat different; some may even be as bold as to say that his reaction was the complete opposite of cool and aloof. The red-haired wizard hopped up and down waving at the brunette witch.
“Hermione! Hermione! Hi!” Ron called out in a very, very loud stage whisper, as he continued his antics to get her attention. “You look smashing!”
Hermione groaned pitifully as nearly every guest turned their attention toward her and began to whisper and speak amongst themselves.
The next couple to walk out of the Burrow was Fred a
nd an unknown woman, more than likely one of Fleur’s friends. They were quickly followed by Charlie and Gabriele, both of whom looked striking.
Harry and Hermione turned their attention toward the bridal stage and saw that Bill had already taken his place with a Vicar standing next to him. Ron escorted Ginny to her spot on the bride’s side and then walked to his position on the groom’s side. When he took his place, Ron once again waved at Hermione. Harry overheard a witch a few rows ahead of them comment at Ron’s wave saying; “That young man up there and the girl behind us must be very much in love.”
Harry thought that Hermione looked like she was about to faint, her face was as white as a sheet and her body was completely rigid.
After Bill, Gabriele, Fred, and his partner took their places, the music changed to the wedding march. All eyes (except for three people: Ron, who couldn’t take his eyes off of Hermione, Hermione, who was still frozen like she was hit with a Full Body Bind, and Harry, who kept looking worriedly between his two best friends) turned to see Fleur, who was a vision of beauty, exit the house with her father.
The Vicar gave a speech about soul mates and how Bill and Fleur were lucky enough to find such love between each other. Harry noted that Ron had a hopeful look in his eyes as he looked at Hermione while the Vicar spoke of soul mates. Hermione was still as pale and rigid as before, but Harry could actually hear her teeth grinding together. Ron was making her so nervous that Harry no longer feared that his beautiful friend would faint anymore, he was now worried that she would have an aneurism. Evidently, Hermione was very worried about the upcoming “talk” with Ron about their recent developments. That, as well as being obviously quite angry that Ron was embarrassing her, as well as himself, as he continually waved at her from the dais during the ceremony.
Harry felt that he needed to calm her down, for her own good, being so tense could not be good for her. That’s when Harry remembered the section in his ‘special book’ on Pleasure Points. He was certain that his new-found skills could help calm Hermione down.
Harry placed the pad of his right thumb on the back of Hermione’s left hand, which, according to his favorite book, was the location of one of the lesser Pleasure Points. Slowly, Harry rubbed her hand in a circular motion. After a moment, Harry started to gently push his magic through Hermione’s hand. Almost instantaneously, Harry noticed that Hermione began to relax and loosen up a bit. A small smile appeared on her face that told Harry that she was appreciative of his efforts. But he could tell that Hermione was still very tense. Harry decided that to help Hermione, he needed to tap into his power core for more energy.
“Do you, Bill, take Fleur to be you wife?” asked the Vicar.
Harry found it slightly ironic that it was Hermione who was the one who first told Harry that he was an unusually powerful wizard. Judging how tense Hermione appeared, Harry needed all the help he could get to get through to her.
“I do,” responded Bill with pride.
As he continued to massage her hand while pushing his magic into Hermione, Harry started to concentrate on his power core: love. He focused on happy, even loving memories about Hermione and himself. He recalled all the times she has been there for him, all the times she showed genuine concern about him, and compassion for him.
Before the Vicar could ask Fleur the same question, Hermione slumped slightly in her chair. A rosy bloom appeared on her face and exposed skin of her neck and torso. Harry took pride in being able to help Hermione relax, and he decided that it would do her some good to relax even more.
“Do you, Fleur, take Bill to be your husband?” the Vicar asked of the lovely bride.
“I do,” Fleur replied with joyful tears in her eyes.
To make Hermione even more relaxed and peaceful, Harry focused his thoughts on the events of the previous morning, when he strove so hard to give her pleasure. He remembered what she tasted like on his tongue, how wonderful her legs felt wrapped around his head, and how she called out his name when she had an orgasm. That’s when Harry realized that he may have gone a little too far tapping into his power core.
The rosy bloom quickly turned into a bright red color as Hermione’s breath became labored and she had to bite her lip to stop a moan of pleasure. Tiny beads of sweat blossomed all over her skin Hermione locked eyes with Harry; the look was a combination of desire, of wishing for this feeling to continue, as well as a questioning look, as if she was asking him how he was doing this with a simple touch? A deceptively simple question, to which Harry had no answer. According to the segments of the book that he read, the Pleasure Points he decided to focus on should’ve only given her a little pleasure; Harry had specifically chosen the area designed to impart the pleasure equivalent to a simple kiss. But somehow, Hermione was receiving a lot more than just ‘a little pleasure.’ Harry was in so much shock that he didn’t realize that he was still continuing to massage Hermione’s hand’s Pleasure Points while simultaneously pushing his love-based magic into her.
Harry could faintly smell the distinctive musky odor of Hermione’s juices. Harry looked in shock and surprise as a small wet spot appeared on Hermione’s gown at her lap. He reckoned that she must be flowing right about now. Harry could also see that her nipples had become quite erect as well, even through her bra and the fabric of her gown ‘Carmella’ and ‘Natasha’ looked as if they were about to break free.
After the newly married couple had kissed, the Vicar turned to the assembled family and guests. “If you’re new to a magical wedding, like some of our Muggle-born guest,” he began, “I would like to explain a tradition we have. This tradition is based on the idea of community. At this time, I would like to call on any guest to speak up and give their blessings to the new couple.”
Unfortunately, it was at this point that Hermione lost a bit of her self control and roughly kicked the chair in front of her. The old wizard who was occupying that chair stood up in surprise.
“Ah, Mr. Oseran,” the Vicar said, indicating the old man who just stood up because Hermione had kicked his chair. “What would you like to say to the bride and groom?”
“Um... err... I... ah...” Mr. Oseran stammered. He obviously didn’t have anything to say, but he couldn’t just tell that to the Vicar and sit down, now could he? Unfortunately for Mr. Oseran and Mrs. Oseran, who was mortified by her husband’s following statement, the best he could come up with was “Enjoy making sprogs, you two.”
Every single person in attendance drew a collective gasp at Mr. Oseran’s “blessing.” Although Harry was fairly certain that Fred and George found the scene to be hilarious.
“Thank you Mr. Oseran,” the Vicar said, a little taken back at the old man’s comment. “Would anyone else like to add their blessings?”
It was as if the fates had a personal grudge against Hermione. Because it was at this most inauspicious time that the building ecstasy hit Hermione like a rampaging Blast-Ended Skrewt.
“OH GOD, YES!” Hermione cried out at the top of her lungs and her hips forcibly bucked.
“My, what an enthusiastic young witch!” the Vicar declared. “Please, my dear, stand up.”
Hermione’s face was a mask of fear and trepidation; she looked to Harry for support. Her eyes pleaded with Harry, asking him what should she do, what should she say? Harry, being the heroic wizard that he was, got up and helped her stand. Regrettably for Hermione, that’s about all the support that he could muster at that time.
“I-I-I-I would like,” began Hermione, unsteady in her own words. “I would like to give the couple my blessing...?” She somehow ended the statement as a question.
“Thank you, dear,” the Vicar said, oblivious to what Hermione had just been through. “Anyone else?”
As another person stood up, and gave a real blessing this time, Harry and Hermione sat back down. As discreetly as he could, Harry waved his wand over Hermione’s lap and performed a Cleansing Charm.
Tonks was having some difficulty breathing; she had stuffed her fist into
her mouth in an attempt to stop herself from laughing. Tears streamed down her face as she looked at the two teens. Harry knew with certainty that she would never let them live this down.
“Hermione, are you alright?” Remus asked with genuine concern in his voice. Harry noticed that the concern in his voice didn’t quite reach his eyes, though. His eyes showed something akin to mirth.
“I’m fine, Remus,” Hermione answered, obviously not noticing the mirthful look in his eyes.
After four more people gave their best wishes to Bill and Fleur, one of which was a blubbering Molly Weasley, the Vicar called an end to the ceremony by saying, “If everyone to be as so kind, please head over to the reception area.”
As a group, all the guests walked toward the area indicated and came upon another decorated field. Mind you, the entire time everyone was walking, Ron kept waving and calling out to Hermione, trying to get her attention, which only seemed to further embarrass Hermione. There was another elevated stage, much like the one where the ceremony was performed, but this stage had a long table on it. Harry assumed that the members of the bridal party were to sit there. In front of the stage was a wooden dance floor. And in front of the dance floor, dozens of tables were strewn about on the grassy field. Each of the tables had four settings and each table was beautifully decorated with flowers as their centerpiece. In the middle of the center piece, a tented piece of purple paper stood out.
“We’re over here you two,” Remus called out as he held a chair out for Tonks. Harry followed the older wizard’s example and held out a chair for Hermione. Three tables away, Harry saw Scrimgeour sit down. He wondered what such an important political figure was doing at the Weasley’s wedding.
“Why’s the Minister here, anyway?” asked Hermione, voicing Harry’s question.
“He’s probably trying to bolster public morale,” informed Tonks. “You know the drill, reinforcing the fact that we should continue with our normal lives even though there’s a war going on.”
