J K Rowling - [Harry Potter 0X]

by Harry Potter

  ***

  The first thing Harry saw when he woke up the next morning was Hermione’s smiling eyes. He assumed that her lips would have been smiling as well if they weren’t wrapped around his willy. Apparently, ‘Harry, Jr.’ woke up before Harry did. And Hermione clearly wanted to thank the organ, and therefore Harry, on such a good job of pleasing her the night before. “Morning, love,” Harry groaned out. Hermione raised her mouth off of Harry’s organ to return the greeting. “Good morning,” she said with a thin line of spittle connecting her lips to his crown. After she finished speaking, Hermione plunged back down and began to hum Harry’s theme. Harry wished that he could wake up to this every morning; it was so much better than an alarm clock. He felt pity for other wizards who had to rise out of their slumber to the sound of a ringing bell. Humming and slurping were much better sounds than any bell ringing. “Oh by the way, Harry,” Hermione paused in her fellatio. “I stopped by my parents yesterday, before the shower.” “Oh really,” Harry tried to sound like he cared, but all he wanted was Hermione to continue sucking. Perhaps she could talk while it was in her mouth? No, that might lead to a case of accidental biting. Thankfully, Hermione returned to the task immediately after speaking. She bobbed a few more times and Harry could feel his balls begin to well up. Seeing how close he was, Harry reasoned that Hermione must have started to suck him off well before he woke up. Once again, Hermione stopped and raised her head. “I stopped by and talked to my parents before I went to the shower to ask them something,” she said while she stroked his length. “That’s nice,” Harry murmured. He honestly didn’t care if she had popped over to Buckingham Palace to have tea with the Queen. All he wanted was for his lover to finish what she had started, and to finish soon. It wasn’t fair of Hermione to have a discussion with him at a time like this. She must’ve known that he couldn’t form coherent thoughts much less words when she was blowing him. Hermione went back to pleasuring Harry. Something was nagging him, at the back of his mind. It was like his subconscious was trying to tell him something that had slipped his mind. He knew it was dreadfully important, but it obviously wasn’t as important as Hermione giving him head. He was so very close, any second he’d be a happy wizard. But his joy was postponed yet again when Hermione paused to speak. “I set up that dinner with my parents,” she said. “Neat,” Harry forced himself to mutter. What he truly wanted to say was “Who the hell cares? I’m about to cum!” Hermione enveloped his organ into her mouth once more. She was infuriating him with all this small talk. Why the hell would she start this if she wanted to talk? She was using her mouth for other things besides speaking. And when she talked, she only delayed his pleasure. Was this in retaliation for all the teasing he inflicted on her the night before? Harry realized that it wasn’t, because he had a feeling that Hermione would do a much better job of teasing besides pausing to have a chat. Perhaps she had an ulterior motive. That nagging sensation grew in his head. It slowly dawned on Harry that it was something about Hermione’s parents. He knew that Hermione had a reason to talk to her parents and it was important in some way to Harry, but what it was had slipped his mind. Hermione’s wonderful mouth on his penis drove it and all other thoughts away. He was on the edge of cumming. In a second or two, he’d be finished. “Hermione, I’m gonna-” Harry started to warn his lover of his impending ejaculation. But Hermione raised her head and said rapidly: “We’re going to have dinner with my parents tonight!” She then swallowed Harry’s organ before he could realize what she had said to him. She bobbed and sucked. Harry grunted as he released himself into her mouth. The black-haired wizard lay on his back panting. He was very happy. Then, Hermione’s words hit him; he was going to meet her parents in a few hours! Harry shot upright in the bed and looked with horror filled eyes at his girlfriend. “Bu-b-but w-w-what?” he stammered. “We’re going to have dinner with my mum and dad tonight,” she repeated with a devilish grin on her face. Harry looked between his still wet genitals and Hermione in surprise and disbelief. “You told me that while you were giving me head?” “Yes,” she answered and the roguish smile grew. “You would have started to panic if I just brought it up. This way I eased you into the knowledge.” “By giving me head?” “I happen to think it went well,” Hermione stated. “If I wasn’t giving you fellatio, you would’ve tried to talk your way out of meeting mum and dad.” Harry was about to voice his objections. Hermione had turned something pure and wonderful - the blow job - into nothing more that just a means to mask a conversation. But any protests he had were lost on Hermione when she stood and commanded, “We need to get you some decent clothes, so let’s hop in the shower.” With that, Hermione walked out of the room. Harry sat in his bed. He hung his head low and sulked. He was going to meet the parents of the witch he was in love with and was shagging. He wondered if he would feel less awkward meeting them if he and Hermione hadn’t had sex yet. After a minute or two, Harry walked into the bathroom. His sullen spirit was suddenly lifted when he saw a wet, naked, and suds-covered Hermione waiting for him. Normally, Harry could take a shower in less than five minutes, but seeing how he had to help Hermione wash up, it took him a little over fifteen minutes to do so. Of course, he had to bring her to orgasm with his tongue and fingers after he washed her hair; it was the polite thing to do.

  ***

  Harry’s breakfast consisted of a large plate of steaming Thestral droppings. He reasoned that it was the winged horse’s excrement because he could see it but Hermione couldn’t. After stealing half of Hermione’s food, the two lovers set out for Diagon Alley. First, they had to stop by Gringrotts to pick up some money. Seeing how they were going to meet her parents, they realized that they couldn’t shop for Harry’s clothes in Diagon Alley. He had to be in proper Muggle-clothes for that. So they had to exchange a few galleons for pound notes. Harry had not gone clothes shopping since he had to buy his first set of school robes (it also happened to have been his first time clothes shopping as well). Needless to say, Harry was completely lost when Hermione led him into a Muggle department store. There were hundreds of styles to choose from. Hermione decided to let Harry pick out his own clothes. It was a mistake that many women make when they are first dating; they believe their boyfriends can have the slightest traces of taste and style without their input. Hermione realized her error when Harry showed her the plain white pull-over - which was four sizes too large - and the pair of jeans - again, four sizes too large. Hermione nearly dragged Harry physically through the store as she picked out over a dozen shirts and slacks for Harry to try out. She then marched him over to the fitting rooms and made him try each one on. Hermione demanded that Harry parade each outfit in front of her. After she had Harry turn around to show the clothes off, she dismissed all of her selections. They either didn’t “suit” him or the color was suddenly “all wrong” for him. She then marched Harry back through the shop and selected another dozen set of clothes. Harry then had to try each one on and Hermione would examine him and then decided if Harry should buy it or not. She repeated this process countless times over the next four hours and three shops until she was satisfied with three dress shirts and two slacks for Harry. Before that day, Harry didn’t realize shopping was such a demanding and tiring process. After a light lunch at a Muggle restaurant, they headed back to the castle. When they arrived, Hermione supervised Harry as he dressed. “No, not the polo,” she said. “Try the blue button-up one... no the red one.” It took Harry half an hour to dress. Hermione kept changing her mind as to what he should wear. The seventh time she had him try on the blue shirt, he realized that she must have been just as nervous as he was. After they had successfully dressed, Hermione created a Portkey out of an old piece of parchment. Harry landed gracelessly in the back garden of the Granger home. With a wave of her wand, Hermione cleaned Harry’s clothes. “Are you ready?” Hermione asked. “Yeah,” Harry said aloud while chanting internally ‘Don’t mention sex. Don’t mention sex.’ Hermione was about to open up the back door when Harry stopped h
er. “Hermione, your eyes!” he hissed. In all the excitement, they had forgotten to disguise her now mostly green eyes. Harry knew that Hermione was right when she said her parents wouldn’t possibly guess the cause of this change, but he didn’t want to take any chances. Hermione waved her wand over her face and the green was replaced by brown. As Hermione tucked her wand away, the back door flew open with a bang. In the doorway stood a short man with curly brown hair, the same hair as Hermione’s. He glowered at Harry angrily. “You Potter?” he asked gruffly. “Yes sir,” Harry replied in a tiny voice. “What are your intentions with my daughter?” he demanded. “Daddy!” Hermione chastised. “Richard!” a voice sounding very similar to Hermione’s called out from inside the house. “Leave the poor boy alone!” A woman, who had a very similar nose and mouth to Hermione, hauled the man away from the door. “But Fiona, it’s my job,” the man objected as he disappeared from view. Hermione led Harry into the house. Her parents were standing in front of the stove. “Mum, Dad, this is Harry Potter. Harry, these are my parents; Doctor Richard Granger and Doctor Fiona Granger.” Hermione introduced them. “You can call us Fiona and Richard,” Hermione’s mother said warmly. It was clear to Harry that Fiona was trying her best to make him comfortable. “No he can’t,” Hermione’s father objected. Harry felt it was safe to assume that Richard had no intention of making Harry feel comfortable. “Ignore him,” Fiona commented. She then shook Harry’s hand and said cordially “Hello Harry.” “Hi, ma’am,” Harry returned the greeting. Richard’s greeting wasn’t as warm and inviting as his wife’s. In fact, when Harry extended his hand to Hermione’s father, the man stared at it like it was something offensive. For what felt like an eternity, Harry stood there with his hand extended, waiting for Richard to shake it. Harry saw Hermione give her mother a concerned look. It was clear that Hermione was both worried and embarrassed by her father’s attitude. Picking up on her daughter’s look, Fiona broke the awkward silence. “Let’s have dinner shall we?” Fiona said and led everyone out of the kitchen and into the dinning room. It was a wonderfully prepared meal of roast chicken and potatoes. While they ate, Fiona would ask Harry polite question about himself and Hermione. Such as, “Do you two share a lot of classes?”, “Do you like Hogwarts?”, and “Do you know what you are going to do with you life after you’re finished with school?” Harry limited his responses to “Yes, ma’am” or “No, ma’am.” He was afraid that if he said anymore than that he would blurt out something inappropriate. For example; “I can draw an exact replica of your daughter’s vagina from memory!” Harry thought that would not be proper. Of course, Richard just stared menacingly at Harry throughout the entire dinner. Which added to Harry’s already massive case of nervousness. The young wizard was sweating bullets. When Hermione and Fiona were almost finished with their meal, Harry noticed that he had barely touched his food. He didn’t eat much simply because he was so nervous. But Richard took his lack of appetite as something offensive. “Is our food not good enough?” Richard asked as he glowered at Harry. “Richard, just what do you think you are doing?” Fiona demanded. “My job,” Richard said as if those two words unequivocally proved his point. “And what is your job, exactly?” Hermione asked. Harry could see that his girlfriend was upset with her father’s behavior. “My job as your dad,” Richard elaborated. “It’s the job of all dads to give the blokes who are interested in their daughters a hard time.” “Oh come off of it Richard,” Fiona chided. “My dad did the same thing to you when I brought you home. I distinctly remember that you hated the way dad treated you.” “That’s different,” argued Richard. “Your Dad was being unrealistic. Me, on the other hand, I’m protecting our daughter’s virtue from this bag of raging hormones.” This was completed with a finger jabbed in Harry’s direction. Hermione just rolled her eyes. “Besides, I’m just carrying on a tradition,” argued Richard. “Every dad has to consider the bloke who’s dating his daughter is a sex-crazed fiend. And it’s our duty as parents to protect our daughter from them.” “Stuff it, Richard.” Fiona shot back. “Hermione’s got a good head on her shoulders and she’s known Harry for years. And it’s obvious that they care for each other deeply. So leave the boy alone!” Richard grumbled something before hanging his head dejectedly. After finishing dinner, Harry helped the Grangers clean up the table. The four then went into the parlor for drinks. Fiona sat on the couch while Harry and Hermione took two comfy chairs opposite of the couch. Richard poured a glass of wine for himself, Fiona, and Hermione. Harry however was handed a glass of warm milk by Hermione’s dad. The message was clear to Harry; Richard was saying that Harry wasn’t a man yet and didn’t deserve wine. Despite a glaring look from both Hermione and Fiona, Richard took pride in knocking Harry down a notch. “Oh, I almost forgot,” Fiona called out. “I made my homemade cookies! Let me go fetch them.” As Fiona went to the kitchen, Harry recalled that Hermione had told him that her mother made wonderful cookies, but he couldn’t remember when she had told him this precisely. Harry had a feeling that it was a happy time when she told him this little tidbit. Was it when he and Hermione had rode Buckbeak to save Sirius? Or was it after he had gotten out of the lake at the second task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament? A moment later, Hermione’s mother returned with a platter piled high with chocolate chip cookies. “I know cookies aren’t the best with wine, but they are my specialty,” Fiona declared proudly. She held the platter in front of Harry first and he took one. It was still warm. “I just took them out of the oven,” Fiona informed Harry while she took the tray over to Hermione. “That way the cookies are at their best; all warm and gooey!’ Then it hit Harry; Hermione had informed him about the cookies just the other day while she was bouncing up and down on ‘Harry, Jr.’. She had heralded her mother’s cookies as being “warm and gooey” during sex! This revelation brought up the happy image of Hermione during that conversation in Harry’s mind; bouncing titties and all! Harry was remembering shagging Hermione in front of her parents! He was breaking the first rule of meeting your girlfriend’s parents; do NOT think of your girlfriend naked - much less during intercourse - in front of her mother and father! Harry tried desperately to block out the happy memory, but that just led to him recalling the incident in the broom cupboard. Tiny beads of sweat sprang up anew all over Harry’s face. He clamped his jaw tight in fear of letting the knowledge of how far the two of them had gone in their love. “Now, I know I may be jumping the gun here, but have you two thought about children?” Fiona asked with a glow. Thankfully, she had not noticed Harry’s discomfort. But Fiona’s question brought up a terrifying concept: had Hermione’s mum figured out that they had been practicing making babies? Harry felt very ill suddenly. “Mother,” Hermione groaned out. “I’m only seventeen.” “I know that, I was thinking years down the line. Perhaps after the two of you have careers,” Fiona corrected and she sat on the couch next to Richard. “I want grandbabies, but not just now.” “Yes, but like you said; years from now,” Hermione said with a blush and Harry could see Richard become very uncomfortable and angry at the idea of his daughter having sex; even if it was to produce grandchildren. “Oh, that reminds me,” Hermione added. “Our friends are expecting a child soon.” “Really, who?” Fiona asked. “Remus and Tonks.” ”When are they due?” “In a few weeks,” Hermione answered. “Which seems strange at first because they got pregnant just the other day when Harry and I tricked them into doing a ritual we found in a book.” Hermione chuckled at the memory of the prank. “We didn’t know it at the time, but the side effect of the ritual is that it accelerates the pregnancy so that it lasts only two months.” “What kind of book would have such a ritual?” Fiona asked with obvious curiosity. “A tantric book...” Hermione suddenly stopped and gulped in fear. It was clear that she had said more than she had intended. Harry assumed that Fiona knew exactly what Hermione had meant when she used the word tantric by her expression. Her face was a mixture of anger and repulsion. “Tantirc!” Fiona seethed. “A book on tantric rituals! Please tell
me you haven’t practiced any?” Hermione and Harry’s guilt-filled silence answered Fiona’s question. Whereas Fiona clearly knew what the term tantric meant, it seemed Richard was a little behind. “Tantric, I’ve heard that somewhere,” Richard spoke aloud. “Isn’t that the thing Sting does?” “Yes it’s the thing Sting does!” Fiona hissed. “And it seems that it also happens to be the thing your daughter does as well!” Richard shot a surprised and angry look directly at Harry before saying in a soft, yet baleful voice; “You touched my princess?” “I cannot believe you had sex, young lady!” Fiona screeched. “Mum, you just got through asking if we planned on having children!” Hermione shot back. “Well, I didn’t think that you’d be practicing so early on in your relationship!” As mother and daughter argued, Harry was fearful of Richard. The older man had his hands balled into fists on his lap and he was visibly shaking. Harry wondered for a brief moment if he was going to have to Stun Hermione’s dad. “Mum, I’ve known Harry for six years,” Hermione countered. “Don’t tell me you and dad waited that long before having sex!” “It’s not the same thing, young lady! You father and I were already out of university and had our own practices when we met.!” Fiona shouted. “We were more mature when we had sex for the first time than you are now!” Richard stood and Harry began reaching for his wand. He hoped that Hermione would forgive him for using magic on her dad. “Mature?” Hermione asked. “How is the fact that Harry and I have slept together a sign of a lack of maturity?” “You touched my princess!” growled Richard. “You are far too young for such a relationship,” argued Fiona. “Too young? How can you, of all people, say I am too young to have sex?” Hermione asked. “Because I am your mother!” “Then maybe you shouldn’t have given me you boarding school journals when I went off to Hogwarts,” Hermione said in a threatening tone. “What is that supposed to mean?” Fiona demanded. “The Tumbleweed Dance...” Hermione said cryptically. At first, Fiona looked confused by Hermione’s response, so Hermione added two names. “Jacob and Charlotte.” Suddenly, Fiona’s red angry face turned pale and she took a calming breath. “Richard, sit down,” Fiona commanded. “But he touched my princess,” Richard contested. It was obvious that he so wanted to hurt the boy who deflowered his little girl. “Hermione is an intelligent young lady who has a level head,” Fiona pointed out. It was obvious that Fiona was still upset over the ordeal, but she was forcing herself to get over it for some reason. “She wouldn’t just hop into bed with any boy. Besides, as she said, she has known Harry for six years.” Hermione stood up and said in a calm and dispassionate voice, “I think it’s time we should be leaving.” Harry stood up and moved behind his girlfriend for protection. Hermione might have derailed her mother’s anger, but her father was still a powder-keg waiting to blow. Hermione bid her parents good night and led Harry out of the house. Hermione and Harry used the Portkey to return to Hogwarts and as they walked to the castle, Harry asked “What was that all about?” “What, my dad or my mum?” she asked. “Your dad I understood. He made it very clear that he didn’t like the idea of me touching ‘his princess’,” Harry replied. “What did you say to your mother to make her stop her rant? Who are Jacob and Charlotte.?” “Oh, that,” a bemused smile appeared on her face. “I was a little nervous when I was about to go to Hogwarts,” explained Hermione. “You know, first time away from home and whatnot. So my mum gave me her journals that she had kept back when she went off to boarding school. She said that seeing that she had gone through similar things, that it would help calm my nerves. “I noticed that some of her entries were in code,” Hermione continued. “I wasn’t able to break the code until third year - which should tell you how difficult the code was to crack. I found out that they were mostly entries about boys and crushes.” “So why did she freak out when you mentioned that dance?” asked Harry. “Let’s just say that I got my kinky hair from my dad,” Hermione answered. “Everything else kinky about me came from my mum.” “What is that supposed to mean?” “My mum did...” Hermione paused, trying to find the right words. “She did something inappropriate at the dance with a boy and a girl... at the same time.” Harry stopped dead in his tracks. “A three-way?” he blurted out. “Your mother was in a three-way?” “She was young,” justified Hermione. “And it was the Seventies.” A warm glowing feeling passed though Harry. Hermione had just admitted two things. First, she joked that she got her wild and kinky behavior from her mother. And second, she admitted that her mother was in a threesome! Hermione had just inadvertently hinted that she might want to add someone their little sex-romps! “Don’t get any idea about someone joining us, Potter,” Hermione scolded, deciphering his look. “I’m a one wizard witch.” “Who said anything about a wizard,” Harry said happily. Hermione looked at Harry with her eyes bugged for two full seconds before saying; “Looks like someone will be sleeping alone tonight.” True to her word, Harry spent the night alone in his room. She was so angry with him that Harry doubted that she would be inclined to wake him up the way she did that morning ever again. Chapter Nineteen Summary: Harry and Hermione fight while Ron gets the point.