by Harry Potter
‘Damn then,’ Harry thought bitterly to himself. ‘They’re dragging this out on purpose. They know the longer they take to eat the more I suffer.’
Finally, after what felt like hours, McGonagall declared the feast over by announcing that everyone should head to their Common Rooms.
“Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, a word,” McGonagall called out.
Harry fought the urge to shout “HELL NO!” and run out of the Great Hall with Hermione in tow. But Harry realized that doing so would be terribly rude. So, he forced himself to shuffle up to the Headmistress.
“Here is a map leading to your chambers,” McGonagall said as she handed Hermione a piece of paper. “As Head Boy and Girl, a house-elf has been assigned to you. I took the liberty and selected Dobby to be that house-elf. He has a small room in-between your rooms. The password to get into the chamber is ‘Bubblerboth’.”
Harry was happy with the Headmistress’ choice of elf; Dobby wasn’t part of the house-elf sect that wanted to kill Harry for deflowering the Great One. And Hermione would be happy that Dobby was chosen because he was the only house-elf being paid.
“Now, you two need to be up early in the morning, so don’t stay up too late,” McGonagall said with her now-patented saucy wink.
“Don’t worry, we won’t,” Hermione said rapidly before grapping Harry’s hand and ran out of the Great Hall.
The two lovers dashed through the halls. Harry was quite surprised; ‘Harry, Jr.’ was still very hard. Even after all this time and McGonagall’s wink, he was still erect! Harry thought with amusement that he must have looked like something akin to a divining rod as he ran to his new room.
They rapidly approached a door with the Hogwarts crest carved on it. Hermione said “Bubblerboth” and threw the door open and entered.
If Harry had bothered to take the time to look around him, he would have noticed that he and Hermione had entered a small room, about a quarter the size of the Gryffindor Common Room. He would have also noticed a comfy couch, two comfortably looking chairs, two desks for homework, and a fireplace along with two doors placed on either side of a small door. But as stated previously, Harry wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings. No, his mind was firmly set on the task of making Hermione a very satisfied witch.
The moment they entered the room, he pushed Hermione onto the couch and leapt on her. He kissed her passionately, their tongues played in each others mouth. While they kissed, Hermione tugged at her clothes while Harry pulled his own off. Once they were both mostly naked (Harry still had his trainers and socks on and Hermione had her skirt hanging off of one of her ankles) Hermione commanded with a smile “Get to work.”
Harry was getting so used to activating his Parselmouth ability that he found himself not even needing to close his eyes. He slowly slid down Hermione’s body while hissing softly, which just caused goose-pimples to blossom all over her milky flesh. As he lowered himself between her legs, she started to make soft mewing sounds in anticipation. Her soft mewing instantly turned into a very enthusiastic “YES!” the instant his tongue and love magic touched her flower.
He twirled his tongue around her bud and Hermione clamped her legs around his head reflexively. She squeezed her legs tighter when he gently pried apart her petals and ran his tongue up and down the inside of her labia. The brunette witch - although from Harry's current viewpoint it would be more accurate to describe Hermione as "the completely shorn witch" - didn’t last very long. Apparently, she had wanted to end their dry spell just as much as Harry did. And just as Harry came a lot when Hermione pleasured him in the train, she erupted like a fountain. She had obviously been building up a lot as well.
“SWEET BABY MEAVE!” she cried out as her orgasm struck her. Harry lapped up her love happily.
Hermione relaxed her legs, freeing Harry to climb back up her body. The two lovers locked eyes and she reached down and guided Harry into her. ‘Harry, Jr.’ was so happy to be back where it belonged that it almost started crying a few seconds after it slid into Hermione’s flower. Thankfully, the organ fought the urge to finish early and valiantly continued.
“Talk dirty to me,” Harry whispered in Hermione’s ear.
Clearly, Hermione was more than happy to comply with Harry’s request. Her mouth spewed such foul and creative phrases as “ram me,” “I’m a dirty witch who needs to be spanked,” and many naughty words like “fuck” and “pussy” (a word which Harry was almost positive that she didn’t use in reference to Crookshanks). And added to Harry’s enjoyment, when he warned his lover that he was about to climax, she loudly demanded that he should do so in her because she wanted to be a “messy witch!”
With both lovers panting and momentarily satiated, Harry pulled out of Hermione.
“Well... that... was... fun,” commented Hermione in between pants.
“Yeah... it... was,” Harry breathed out.
Then our hero discovered something unusual. Generally, when ‘Harry, Jr.’ was done playing, it’d trot off to bed for a kip. Harry was quite surprised to see his organ was still awake and... ahem... up for another go.
“It would be a shame to let that go to waste,” Hermione said as she eyed Harry erect state.
“A dreadful shame,” agreed Harry.
What followed could be best described as “Mad Monkey Sex.” Both made odd noises consisting of “oooh’s,”“aah’s,” “eee’s,” and half a dozen “ook’s”. They also didn’t just restrain themselves to using only the couch. No, they tried to “break in,” so to speak, as many pieces of furniture as possible. After they left the couch, Hermione was bent over one of the desks, a position that Harry thoroughly enjoyed because it gave him the opportunity to massage and fondle her round bottom as he took her from behind (and to Hermione’s pleasure, he got a few good, hard swats against those heavenly cheeks). A few moments later found Harry lying on the rug in front of the fireplace while Hermione rode him like a pony; another position that Harry found enjoyable because it gave him the chance to stroke and rub her boobs. After that, Harry took Hermione as she lay across the other desk, a position that couldn’t have been comfortable for Hermione. But judging by the happy sounds she was making and her cheers of “YES,” “RIGHT THERE!” and “FASTER” Hermione didn’t seem to mind the hard desk pressing into her back. And at one time, both Harry and Hermione were somehow dangling from the chandelier.
Unlike their first go at lovemaking that night, Hermione climaxed. And she did so before Harry did. Harry knew that she had an orgasm because he felt her inner walls clamp down around him. That and she cried out her usual idiom when it happened: “SWEET BABY MEAVE!”
Harry came shortly after she did. Both of them were dripping with sweat - amongst other liquids - and breathing heavily at this point. Harry was beyond satisfied. Not only did he and Hermione put an end to their dry spell, but they nearly made up for any lost time in just one session. He was proud of his accomplishment but he was also ready to fall asleep. Twice in a row is very tiring for a bloke.
However, even though he was ready for a long rest, ‘Harry, Jr.’ wasn’t even slightly sleepy. The messy member looked up at Harry with its one eye as if it was proudly declaring “I ready for another round, sir!”
“Bloody hell!” exclaimed Harry.
Then Hermione made a noise. It was soft and rapid. Harry didn’t hear it clearly, but he could have sworn that she had just said “yippee!”
“What was that?” asked Harry.
“Oh, nothing really,” Hermione said with a very happy grin. He gave her a disbelieving look and she defended herself. “I was just commenting that all that adrenaline you had during the fight with the Death Eaters must be giving you this virility.”
“Do you think it’ll ever go down?” Harry asked.
“Hopefully not anytime soon,” Hermione uttered under her breath.
“Excuse me?”
“Sit on the chair and let me take care of that,” commanded Hermione. The tone of her voice told Harry
that it would be best not to argue with her. So Harry obediently sat in the chair and Hermione promptly straddled him. She started by slowly raising and lowering herself on Harry. Then, after a bit, she increased her pace. Next, she began to grind and gyrate on ‘Harry, Jr.’ in new and interesting ways. Hermione was making sweet and enjoyable sounds as she moved up, down, this way, and that. Harry just sat back and enjoyed the show.
“Hermione... I’m... gonna...” Harry began to warn her.
“Not just yet, Harry,” she moaned out. “I’m almost there.”
Harry fought it with all of his might. His face screwed up in concentration and he hoped that Hermione wasn’t lying, because he was about to lose his fight and cum.
“Oh... oh... oh...” Hermione panted.
Harry fought the urge to shout “Would you just finish already!”
“So-o-o close,” she muttered. “Almost... there.”
Sweat poured off of his body and he grunted. He was now starting to hurt. His body begged for release.
“Oh, Merlin Harry,” she cried. “Now, do it now.”
With a shout, Harry let go and Hermione screamed once again. She collapsed on him and her body shivered with delight.
They sat there silently, basking in each others’ warmth for some time. Then Hermione began to giggle softly in Harry’s ear. That’s when he noticed that he was still hard inside of her.
“Damn my virility,” Harry murmured.
“Looks like someone’s up for round four,” she said joyously and began her luscious grinding once again. Chapter Twenty-One: Term starts and Harry’s workload bogs him down. Thankfully a friend gives him an idea on how to relieve his stress.
The first few days of term were very stressful for Harry, to say the least. Every one of his instructors started their lessons by reiterating the fact that the seventh year students would be taking the aptly named N.E.W.T.’s in the near future. Each warned the students that this year would be particularly difficult. The professors gave a hint at just how difficult the year would be when they gave out their first assignments. Slughorn’s assignment required the students to read four lengthy chapters focusing on eight potions. The students then had to write four feet of parchment on each potion by the end of the week. McGonagall warned her students that they would have to master human transfiguration by end of the lesson on Friday. Even the usually jolly Sprout was deadly serious as she informed her students that they would be pruning the treacherous “Tithwillow Sponge-Shrub” causing a fair a number of Harry’s fellow students to shiver in fear.
The only classes that didn’t immediately overload Harry were Charms and DADA. Flitwick informed his class they would be mastering the difficult Patronus Charm. Our hero smiled triumphantly when Flitwick announced this assignment to the class with the ego-boosting comment of: “If you are having difficulty with the charm, you can talk with Mr. Potter, as he has already mastered it.”
But Harry’s pride was knocked down a little as the little professor continued: “Also, if you are concerned that you cannot focus on a happy enough thought required to cast a Patronus, take heart. I personally know of an Auror by the name of Nymphadora Tonks who was able to cast a wonderful Patronus even while being in a lasting and severe bout of depression. Clearly, if a severely depressed witch can successfully perform the charm, than it isn’t as hard as your peers, teachers, family, and politicians may have told you.”
The workload in DADA was even less than Charms. In fact, there was no workload whatsoever. When Harry and his fellow students walked into the classroom, they found this year’s instructor, a wizard by the name of Herbert Johnson-Thames, sitting behind his desk with his nose buried in a book. He didn’t bother to look up and greet the class as they entered. Nor did he even make a single sound acknowledging their presence. Hermione tried to get a response out of the wizard by walking up to the professor’s desk and introducing herself - of course she had to point out that she was Head Girl; she earned that right and she was going to do it, by Merlin. But apparently the fact that the Head Girl had just introduced herself to Johnson-Thames did not impress him. The wizard continued to stare directly at his book and disregard her existence.
Harry was starting to wonder if the professor was even alive. He hadn’t moved an inch, causing Harry to believe that Johnson-Thames must have had an aneurism right at the desk and died. But Harry’s speculation was dashed the moment the bell sounded and the professor began to read aloud from the lesson book.
“This year you... higher spells and hexes in order to... yourself and others. Some of these spell... very difficult to... and many of you... it incredibly difficult. But... not... This incredibly informative book... you how to... even the most difficult charm.”
On and on he went. He read in his odd broken way and still refused to look up from his book. Harry reckoned that Johnson-Thames must have been very nervous; that would explain the odd breaks as he spoke and why he wouldn’t look up. After about fifteen minutes of Johnson-Thames’ reading, the majority of the class began to fidget. Some of the students even began to do homework for other classes. Not that the professor seemed to care, he continued to read from the text.
“He’s just reading from the book?” Ron asked incredulously.
“It looks like McGonagall had to scrape the bottom of the barrel to get someone to teach Defense this year,” Harry sounded. “And all she could find was someone who can only read the book aloud.”
“Oh, he doing worse than just ‘only reading’,” Hermione said with unhidden anger. “He’s reading the text, but for some reason, he’s skipping over all of the verbs.”
The bespectacled wizard was curious to see if his girlfriend was right. So Harry turned the pages in his book until he found the one that Johnson-Thames was reading from. Harry followed along as the professor read.
“For example, even a poorly... Shield Charm... effective against lower hexes and charms like Jelly-Legs. But a low powered Stun Hex... easily... through a poorly... Shield Charm. If you... how to... a Shield Charm correctly, you... as well not... it at all.”
Sure enough, Johnson-Thames was dropping every single verb.
“Maybe he was hit with some sort of jinx that makes you skip over verbs?” speculated Harry.
“Or he has a phobia,” Ron hypothesized. “You know, the thought of verbs terrifies him so much that he can’t bear to read them.”
“Or perhaps he’s just a blithering idiot,” Hermione said contemptuously. It was clear she had no respect for Johnson-Thames; the wizard was wasting valuable time where Hermione could be learning something new. The idea of missing out on learning simply made her blood boil.
When the bell rang announcing the end of the lesson, Johnson-Thames simply stopped reading. He didn’t even bother to look up. All of the students waited patiently for their assignments... and waited. But the professor refused to speak. Hermione was so upset that not only had Johnson-Thames wasted a double lesson, but he didn’t hand out any homework either that she stomped to her next lesson in a huff.
Despite the fact that Harry had already mastered his Charms work and there was no DADA work, the assignments for the other classes were heavy enough that even Hermione balked at the sheer size of it.
Added onto this workload, McGonagall held true to her word. The returning class this year was so small that the professors didn’t need to break up lessons between the lower years and were able to lump all of the Houses from each year into one class. This gave McGonagall and all the other professors a lot of free time. Free time that the Headmistress used to tutor Harry and his friends.
She had spent an extra three hours everyday with Harry and his friends going over how to use basic Transfiguration in battle. The Headmistress reasoned that basic transfiguration was easy for a seventh year like Harry, but it wasn’t so easy in battle while your enemy is trying to hex you. For the first two days, Harry spent hours and hours trying to transfigure a beetle into a button while Ron, Luna, and Hermione fired off hexes
at the bespectacled youth. The exercise proved very difficult. Harry had a hard time focusing on the proper incantation and wand movements while ducking and dodging his friends’ various hexes. What added to the difficulty Harry faced when trying to concentrate on the incantation was the realization that it was an utterly useless transfiguration. After all, Harry wasn’t a big fan of learning in small steps. On Wednesday, Flitwick joined McGonagall and the duo trained Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Luna how to combine Charms and Transfiguration so that they could animate objects much like Dumbledore had done when he had fought against Voldemort in the Ministry of Magic (this at least Harry found to have immediate and intrinsic benefits).
Harry’s stress was increased even further by his duties as Head Boy. Every night, he and Hermione had to patrol the halls of the castle after curfew, making sure no students were sneaking about. Every once in a while, he would see one of the Aurors that were assigned to protect Hogwarts. It felt good having the extra security.
By the fourth day, all the extra work made Harry look exhausted. His hair was a mess - more so than usual - and he had heavy bags under his eyes caused by lack of sleep. However, he was better off than his girlfriend. Hermione’s hair was a mess - more so than usual - and she, too, had heavy bags under her eyes. But Harry was better off than Hermione in one aspect: he could sit down properly. Even though it had been four days since the Welcoming Feast, Hermione was still sore from the four-in-a-row shag-fest she and Harry had that night. The poor girl still had a noticeable limp. Of course, she had an ear-to-ear smile that accompanied that limp, so she wasn’t complaining.
One thing that made Harry’s days a little better was that he shared the same bed with Hermione. Mind you, they didn’t have sex because she was still sore (and he was too damn tired to perform), but it was still nice to simply cuddle and then wake up next to the woman he loved every morning.
