J K Rowling - [Harry Potter 0X]

by Harry Potter

  “Wow,” Hermione said in awe. “Do you think Ron will believe I made this?”

  “I don’t think he’ll care, really,” answered Harry. Knowing Ron, his red haired friend would probably go into sugar-shock just at the sight of the monumental cake.

  “How do you think we’ll get it to him?” Harry asked.

  “We’s can be delivering it anywhere’s The Great One wants,” one House Elf said joyously.

  “That would be wonderful,” Hermione said sincerely. “Could you take this and the food Harry made to our friends, Ron and Luna, in about fifteen minutes?”

  “We be taking the foods to Weezy and Weezy’s big boobied missus in a few,” another elf confirmed.

  Harry and Hermione made their way back to Ron and Luna’s room. As they walked, Hermione asked; “It’s only been a day, do you think Ron’s upset?”

  “It’s not like Ron to hold grudges,” Harry replied.

  “Are you delusional? Of course it’s like Ron to hold grudges,” Hermione countered hotly. “He’s petty and jealous to a fault. Don’t forget the Goblet of Fire fiasco; he didn’t talk to you for weeks. Which shows you how pig-headed he can get; you two shared all the same classes and slept in the same room and yet he didn’t talk to you.”

  Thinking back to his earlier analogy about being lost in the woods with no food, Harry realized that it was quite possible for Ron to abandon him.

  “I tell you he’s lucky to have such a forgiving friend like you,” Hermione continued.

  “Well, I think the food will placate him a bit,” Harry said wondering what he’d do if the “Lost in a Forest and Ron Abandons Me” scenario ever came to be. More likely than not, Harry would forgive Ron, pretty much for the reasons Hermione had said; it was his nature. Then Harry came to realize how lucky Ron was to have him as a friend. No one else would put up with Ron’s flaws like he did.

  When they got to the door, Harry knocked. Luna answered. Her ever-present smile had returned.

  “Hello, Harry and Hermione, so nice of you to stop by. I told Ronald that I knew you would, but it’s still nice of you to do so. Otherwise, I’d look like a liar to my husband,” she greeted the couple easily as if she had not just asked them to leave the night before. “Won’t you come in?”

  Harry and Hermione walked into the room like a pair of accused criminals waiting to be judged.

  “I’ve been talking to Ronald,” Luna stated with her odd happy tone. “I explained to him why you thought he had lost the Pensieve Memory. There was a touch of logic to your accusations; you made only the one memory, and Ronald does have a tendency to foul things up. He’s still upset, but at least he understands.”

  “We’d like to apologize,” offered Hermione.

  “You do realize my Ronald can be a bit pig-headed, don’t you?” Luna asked dreamily. “It’s one of his more enduring attributes, along with his insatiable virility. Even though he understands why you accused him, he is still upset, like I said. Unfortunately you’re going to have to do more than just tell him you’re sorry.”

  “We’ve got that covered,” said Harry.

  “Good,” smiled Luna. “I do wish that Ronald would become a little more forgiving like you, Harry. Then, Ronald would be utterly perfect in every way. But then again, I find perfection rather dull, so maybe I shouldn’t wish for such a thing.”

  The blonde witch turned and called out to the door leading to the bathroom. “Ronald, those guests I told you to expect are here now.”

  “Tell them to go away,” he said loudly from behind the door. “I’m not ready to forgive them just yet.”

  Luna turned to Harry and Hermione and explained, “I told you he’s stubborn.” She turned back to the door and said in a loud voice, “Ronald, we discussed this earlier. We are both becoming adults and therefore we must mature. Allowing your friends to apologize and then forgiving them is the mature thing to do, Ronald.”

  “I don’t wanna,” the red head said petulantly.

  “Ronald, I won’t swallow next time I give you oral sex like I promised if you don’t come out here right this instant,” Luna said firmly.

  The door opened and slowly, Ron stepped out of the bathroom. He stood close to the door and folded his arms in front of his chest defensively.

  “Look, Ron, we’re sorry,” Harry said sincerely.

  “Yes, it was wrong of us to accuse and attack you,” added Hermione. Harry wanted to point out that she alone attacked Ron and he had nothing to do with the assault. He had relatively kept his cool whereas Hermione was the one trying to draw blood, but now was not the time or place. Later, he’d hold this little tidbit over his lover’s head and perhaps get an apologetic blow job out of it.

  All throughout Harry’s and Hermione’s apology, Ron’s face was a stone mask of disappointment. Harry got the distinct impression that Ron had been practicing this expression in front of the mirror for some time.

  “We should’ve trusted you, mate,” Harry offered.

  Despite their sincere apology, Ron’s face remained unchanged. It was clear that he had no intention of making this easy for Harry and Hermione.

  With a loud pop, piles of fried bacon, chips and battered cod materialized before the red haired wizard. Instantaneously, a smile cracked Ron’s expression at the sight of the piles of fried food. His stern demeanor vanished completely, replaced by that of total joy, when the monumental cake popped into existence.

  Harry watched in stunned amazement as Ron dove at the piles of food. The red head scooped up handfuls of fried fish with one hand while the other shoveled cake before shoving the food into his mouth. He turned to Harry and Hermione, and with bits of fried fish and chocolate cake tumbling out of his opening and closing maw, uttered; “Murf tea gukz!”

  “He said ‘thank you,’” translated Luna happily. “And he accepts your apology.”

  Happy that Ron was pleased while being simultaneously disgusted by the red head’s eating habits, Harry and Hermione left the room silently.

  “I’m glad he’s not upset anymore,” Hermione said with a smile as she and Harry made their way back to their room.

  “Yeah,” agreed Harry. Abruptly changing the subject to less Ron-filled issues, Harry broached a suggestion that Hermione had given the night before. “So, you’re curious about anal sex, huh?”

  Looking at him wryly, Hermione teased “Oh, so you did hear me say that last night. I thought you were in too much shock to have comprehended.”

  “Of course I did,” he returned as the couple turned another corner. “When a bloke’s witch says she wants to experiment, he listens. Even if I was under the effects of the Draught of the Living Death, I would’ve heard you.”

  Hermione snorted a soft chuckle. “We will have to take it slow. You can’t just go barging in.”

  “I didn’t take it slow last night and you seemed to like it,” he pointed out.

  “That wasn’t the real thing, now was it?” the brunette countered. “It was just the sensation of it. We have to work up to the real act.”

  “Gotcha,” he whispered. “Go slow.”

  The young wizard was doing a terrible job of concealing his excitement. Any new way to pleasure his lover was a welcomed adventure. But skipping down the hall is not a proper thing for a seventeen year old wizard to do.

  “Oi, you two,” the ever-gruff voice of Argus Filch, the school’s caretaker called out to Harry and Hermione. “The Headmistress wants to see you.”

  “Do you know what for?” asked Hermione politely.

  “I don’t know that, do I?” the bitter old man shot back. “If I did, I would’ve said the Headmistress wants to talk to you about the weather. But I didn’t, so you should’ve known I know nothing.”

  The grumpy old man hobbled away grumbling, “Snot nosed kids always asking stupid questions. If it were up to me I’d have them all whipped.”

  “Let’s get this over with,” Harry said disgustedly. He and Hermione were about to be intimate in a new way a
nd this meeting with McGonagall was delaying it. The two made their way to the Headmistress’ office while Harry muttered on and on about “lousy effing timing.”

  “Good evening, Professor,” Hermione politely greeted the older witch after walking into her office.

  “Hi,” was all that Harry was able to say. He dared not attempt anything further because something along the lines of “MAKE THIS QUICK, DAMN IT! THERE’S SEX TO BE HAD!” might slip out.

  “Thank you for coming,” McGonagall returned. There was a serious edge to her voice... well, more serious than the normal serious edge to her voice. “Please sit down.”

  “What’s the matter, Professor?” Hermione asked picking up on the Headmistress’ more serious tone.

  “Minister Pippin called today and informed me that a student is going to return to Hogwarts,” McGonagall said cryptically.

  “You’re kidding, right?” Harry half pleaded.

  “Who’s returning?” asked Hermione.

  “If it was any other student returning, Professor McGonagall wouldn’t have called us up here,” Harry explained. “It’s Malfoy.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” echoed Hermione.

  “The Minister was quite insistent,” McGonagall said with a hint of a frown. “Mr. Malfoy is still under protective custody and the Ministry has decided that Hogwarts is the safest place for him. And that it would behoove him to continue his education at the same time.”

  “Professor, I don’t have to remind you that Malfoy led a group of murderers into the castle last year, and because of his actions, Dumbledore was killed,” argued Harry.

  Before McGonagall could reply, the magical portrait of Professor Dumbledore spoke up; “Everyone deserves a second chance, Harry.”

  “Oh, I can see it now, sir: our kids will go to Hogwarts together and be best of friends,” Harry said bitterly. “Malfoy’s nothing more than a slimy bigot. He cheered when Slytherin’s Monster was petrifying Muggle-borns in our second year. In our fourth, he crowed over Cedric’s murder. And when Umbrigde was Headmistress, he abused and tormented his fellow students. Hell, he was happy over the notion of watching the toad woman torture me. Then, last year, he opened a doorway that allows a bunch of Death Eaters into the castle, several people are attacked and you got murdered.”

  “Ah, but didn’t Mr. Malfoy redeem himself when he turned in several Death Eaters a few months back?” the painting asked insightfully.

  “One right doesn’t necessarily correct a wrong, sir,” Hermione offered. “Especially when the wrongs outweigh the right.”

  “The Minister told me that Draco was a changed man,” McGonagall stated. “And she reiterated ‘in several ways’ for some reason. They tell me that his nastier charms have all but vanished and now he’s a law abiding wizard.”

  “Professor, you can’t let-” began Harry.

  “I plan on speaking with Mr. Malfoy and his mother before I even consider letting him return,” McGonagall interrupted the young wizard. “After I speak with them, I will discus the matter further with you two as well as the staff. I called you here today to inform you of this.”

  After a moment where Harry grumbled and glowered at no one in particular, Hermione took his hand and said; “Thank you Headmistress. We appreciate that you’ve included us in this decision.”

  Harry muttered a goodbye and let his girlfriend lead him out of the office.

  As they walked back to their room, Harry continued to grumble angrily.

  “Bloody Malfoy. Should be chucked in Azkaban, not let back into Hogwarts.”

  For nearly fifteen minutes, this was all that Harry did. His face had turned such a fiery red, that Hermione had grown concerned. Obviously, the brunette witch came to the conclusion that she needed to get Harry’s mind off of the upsetting subject.

  “Harry, do you remember what we were discussing before we went to the Headmistress’ office?” she asked.

  “No,” he mumbled. “Damn Malfoy.”

  “We were talking about anal sex.”

  It was like a bolt of lightning had come from the heavens and struck Harry, completely burned his worries concerning Draco Malfoy away. He snatched Hermione’s hand and announced “Let’s go!” before running down the hall.

  The couple rounded a corner and slowed as they passed a group of sixth year boys. The younger students were involved in their conversation. Harry and Hermione slowed their pace because neither of them wanted to draw attention to themselves by bolting past.

  As Harry and Hermione moved by, some of the group’s conversation was overheard.

  “She swallows?” one whispered in near awe.

  “Yeah, I guess that’s why they call her ‘Head Girl.’” another said with mirth.

  “Did you see the one where she dressed up like a Muggle school girl?” another asked. “Pig-tails an’ all.”

  “Isn’t that the one where he cums on her titties at the end?”

  Hermione looked as if she was about to vomit. She had turned as white as a sheet and her eyes were wide with fear and shock. Worried that she was about to collapse, Harry wound his arm around her midsection and supported her. As quickly and as quietly as he could, Harry half-carried half-led Hermione away from the group.

  “They’ve seen more?” she breathed out once they were far enough away. “More than just the one Ron and Luna had?”

  “Oh, that’s why one of the kids I overheard last night said Pensieves and not Pensieve,” pondered Harry. “They were talking about more than one.”

  “How the hell can there be more than one?” demanded Hermione frantically.

  Harry opened the door to their chamber and said the only thing that made sense. “Somebody must be spying on us and they’re handing out Pensieve Memories for some reason.”

  With her hands trembling, Hermione gripped the front of Harry’s robes and began to cry. “Someone’s watching us? And they’re handing out Pensieves of it? Oh, that’s horrible.”

  Harry held her close, trying, in vain, to comfort her. It was a dreadful situation; apparently, a number of the times they had been intimate together have now been seen by a large number of the student body. Harry himself was concerned over the situation, but not nearly at Hermione’s level. The poor witch looked as if she was about to have a nervous breakdown.

  “We can’t have sex until we find out who’s doing this,” Hermione announced between hiccups. “None at all.”

  Now Harry’s level of concern exceeded Hermione’s. The brunette witch had just been eager to be buggered. But now because of this revelation, she was abstaining from any sex... including anal! This damn pervert was halting Harry’s love life. And Harry swore to himself that he’d make the pervert suffer!

  Pulling away from Hermione, Harry moved to his trunk.

  “What are you doing, Harry?” asked Hermione as he rifled through the contents of his trunk.

  “Finding myself a pervert,” he answered and pulled up the Marauders’ Map. He tapped his wand to the old parchment and incanted, “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”

  He turned to Hermione and said “You’d better stay here,” before walking out of the room. Quickly he scanned the map until he found his target.

  The dot labeled “Dennis Creevey” showed that the younger boy was in his dorm room in the Gryffindor Tower. The dot was also hovering over a dot labeled Padma Patil. Harry dashed to the tower with every intention of questioning the younger wizard as to where he had gotten the Pensieve from. When he reached the Fat Lady, he quickly checked the Marauders’ Map to find the password, which he gave and ran up the stairs, pushing pass the students in the Common Room.

  The door to Dennis’ dorm had a neck tie hanging from the doorknob which is the universal sign for “Two people having sex inside. Piss off!” That, or if the wizard didn’t have a witch, it meant “Some bloke is masturbating in here. You don’t want to see that, so move along.” Harry was about to ignore the “neck-tie warning” and barge in when a pair of third year bo
ys stumbled out of the dorm opposite Dennis’ door.

  “Damn it, it’s just our luck,” a sandy haired boy complained, not noticing Harry. “Effing pest - taking our turn.”

  “Yeah, we finally get a chance to see Granger and Pot... err, shit” it was at this point the other boy noticed Harry. “Hi, Harry,” he squeaked nervously.

  “Oh, bollocks,” the first cursed. It was clear that the boys thought Harry was about to hex the both of them.

  Harry pushed passed the boys and made his way to the third years’ room. Obviously, the boys were talking about watching one of those damned Pensieve Memories. The raven haired wizard realized that he didn’t need to ask Dennis where he had gotten the Pensieve from, not when Harry could enter the magical memory and find out himself. As he opened the door to the disgruntled boys’ room, Harry mentally reviewed his impromptu plan; he would push whoever was watching the Pensieve out of his way, then enter the magical memory and explore it. Harry figured he’d have no problem viewing a memory; he already had loads of experience with both Dumbledore’s and Snape’s Pensieves.

  But Harry forgot all about his plan the moment he saw the person leaning over the Pensieve basin.

  “My, she’s a flexible minx,” the figure commented, the voice dripping with lust. “That’s my boy, Harry; give her arse a good swat.”

  “I should’ve known,” Harry growled. The pervert, the unseen letch who had spied on Harry and Hermione, was standing right in front of Harry with his nose in the Pensieve, watching it.

  With righteous fury flowing through his veins, Harry whipped out his wand and sent a Blasting Hex at the stone basin. The bowl shattered into a million pieces causing the silvery liquid of the Pensieve Memory to be splattered on the wall.