by Harry Potter
“And just how did you and I do this?”
“Well, to be honest, it was more like Dobby did it.”
Hermione looked at Harry in deep thought for a moment. Then she narrowed her eyes and challenged, “Are you saying that because everyone here saw us have sex that they don’t worry about the war?”
“Basically, yeah,” he agreed. “Listen, I know it sounds far fetched, but I’m in the middle of this war, and it’s no secret Voldemort wants me dead. You’re in the limelight too, not only because you associate with me but because you’re a Muggle-born witch, making you a target twice over. So by all rights, out of everyone in this castle, you and I should be the ones most affected by the war. But we don’t let it get to us, not to the extent of the people outside the castle. We’re living our lives the way we want to and not in fear. And by seeing all those Pensieves, our peers were encouraged to do the same. I know it’s not a conventional way of boosting morale, but it worked.”
“Harry, I don’t consider an active sex-life the cornerstone of living our lives without fear,” argued Hermione.
“But it is. Most people out there are terrified. So much so that they aren’t even sleeping properly; they sleep with one eye open. And the last thing on their minds is sex. You know for a fact that sex is a great stress reliever.”
“And how do you know people aren’t having sex?”
“I talked with Alicia. She’s working at Franklin’s of Cardiff, and she told me that no one’s been shopping there in weeks,” he told her.
“Franklin’s of Cardiff? Is that where you got those toys?” she asked and he nodded in the affirmative. “I’ll have to go there one day.”
“The back section’s where they keep the toys,” Harry pointed out.
“Let’s say that I agree with your assumptions that people aren’t having sex and that lack of activity is a part of the problem,” Hermione speculated. “Are you suggesting that we have Dobby start passing out the Pensieves again, only this time to everyone in England?”
“Not exactly,” he replied. “You see, Ginny was right to a point. This castle has wards. They do have a way of making the people inside feel secure, even though a small group of Death Eaters attacked last year by bypassing those wards. However, most homes don’t even have the simplest wards.”
“What does that have to do with us having sex?”
“Well, we could create new rituals, ones that could erect wards around people’s homes,” Harry said.
“Yes, I can see that. I’ve actually had a few ideas in that area,” Hermione said while chewing her lip. “But how do you suppose we teach these potential rituals to everyone? I mean, having Dobby pass out Pensieves to everyone in the country is a little impractical.”
Harry spoke very slowly and clearly so that he could drive this point home... that and he reckoned that it would turn her on so he didn’t want her to misunderstand him.
“You... and I... will... write... a... book.”
“A bo-b-book? Me, an author?” she asked hesitantly. Suddenly Hermione’s irises shot open, leaving only a hair-thin ring of color, her lips puffed up a touch, and her complexion flushed. Harry could see her nipples harden through her blouse, and he felt it was safe to assume that she was getting rather wet. Harry’s assumption about the dampness of his girlfriend was confirmed when she ordered throatily: “Shag me silly, Harry.”
As Harry was in the process of carrying out her request of shagging her silly and while he was tugging on her hair, Hermione brought up a good point.
“Wait, why don’t - -uh - -we just - -smack my bum - -copies of the tantric book we - -that’s it - -already have?”
“Uh - -we - -oh - -can use some of the - -er - -spells from that book,” Harry said and paused to give Hermione a good hard swat. “But - -oh- - it doesn’t - -uh - -have a lot of ward rituals.”
“So you’re saying - -ooh, yessss rub my clit - -we need to make an - -mama - -updated version of The Magic of Making - -FUCK ME! - -Love?”
“I’m gonna cum - -Yeah, a new version,” Harry answered. “One that will - -almost there - -help people deal with Voldemort.”
“Hold on, I’m close - -I think we should - -just a bit more, baby - -follow the author of the ‘special book’ and - -oooh so- -o- -o- -o close - -use pen-names - -NOW! DO IT NOW!”
~*~
The next day during Potions, Hermione and Harry were quietly discussing what spells and rituals they should put in their forthcoming book from the ones that they had already invented.
“We should definitely include the Wit-Enhancing ritual,” offered Hermione as she put a dash of powdered frog toes into the bubbling concoction they were brewing. “Of course, that would mean we’d have to put in a section on stretching techniques so that the reader would be limber enough to perform that ritual.”
“One spell that we shouldn’t put in is the ‘Loninquitas Amorus,’ the long distance love ritual that I created,” Harry said. “I could see some bad people doing bad things with that one.”
“You mean like if Snape had that ritual in school, he would’ve used it on your Mum?” speculated Hermione.
“Why’d you go and say that?” demanded Harry as he felt his stomach lurch. “You could’ve left it at ‘bad people doing bad things.’ But no, you had to bring up that greasy bastard’s obsession with wanking over the thought of my mother.”
“I’m sorry, Harry,” apologized the brunette. “I’ll make it up to you after supper tonight.”
“Well, it better be good,” he pouted. “You mentioned my mother and Snape in the same sentence. And you made it about sex, making it even worse.”
“All right, I let you bugger me and you can cum on my tits,” she said casually, stirring the contents of their cauldron. “Would that be good enough?”
“Throw in a hummer before hand and we’re even.”
“Well, that goes without saying, doesn’t it,” she said. “Of course, I’ll expect the same in return. Perhaps we can pleasure each other at the same time.”
Hermione checked the board once more, reviewing the instructions. “Hand me that mandrake root,” she asked Harry.
The wizard reached out and took hold of the root. The moment his fingers wrapped around the mandrake, it began to heat up and shake. Knowing that mandrake roots should not do that, Harry dropped the item. It fell back on the table and continued to shake.
“Why’s it doing that?” Harry asked Hermione.
“It didn’t do that when I fetched it from the supply cupboard,” she answered. “Someone must have tampered with so it would activate with your touch.”
A second later, the root stood up on one end and began to reshape it self. It stretched and shrunk, changed from a dirty beige color to a warm pink. Veins started to pop up all along the surface. After a moment, it flopped down and stilled. Harry and Hermione were looking down at a very detailed pink dildo, foreskin, veins, wrinkles, and all.
“Who the hell would want to change a mandrake root into a penis?” asked Hermione. “Oh My God, it’s throbbing.”
“You-hoo!” Draco Malfoy called out effeminately from across the lab. He gave Harry a limp wristed wave and shouted, “If you like that, you can get the real thing later!”
Harry looked at Draco then he looked at the phallic object for a moment before it hit him - - no, not the dildo, the truth.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” he groaned out.
“What’s wrong?” asked Hermione.
“Draco transfigured the root into a copy of his willy,” Harry explained as he turned a nasty shade of green.
With a disgusted expression marring her face, Hermione pulled out her wand, unwilling to touch Draco’s organ, even by proxy, and in a series of light jabbing motions, pushed the phallic object off of the table. It landed on the floor and made a fleshy slapping sound.
That sound was enough to send our hero over the edge. With a gut-wrenching gurgling sound, Harry promptly vomited into his and Hermione’s cauldron
.
While Hermione helped clean up the mess on the table and on Harry, Draco said in a loud voice; “Oh, look, he’s so excited that he got sick...”
~*~
Over the next two weeks, Harry and Hermione busied themselves with designing and practicing new content for their proposed book. They had come up with several new rituals, mostly for home defense, a number of potions, and some tactics just for fun. The couple used the magically upgraded Shrieking Shack as their testing grounds.
Not all of the rituals were strictly for defense. A few of the simpler sex-rituals were designed for household charms. One in particular was created to keep the participants’ home neat and orderly. It would magically dust, sweep, and mop along with straightening chairs, leveling photos, and the like. This particular ritual needed some milk and honey dribbled over both parties’ torsos and they needed to have sex on the home’s kitchen table.
But Harry and Hermione came up with several rituals that would effectively erect protective wards around the house. One ritual that Hermione had created was a powerful Anti-Apparation Ward. As opposed to other Anti-Apparation Wards, this one was relatively simple to erect. For the ritual, the wizard had to suckle on the largest toe on the witch’s left foot, whilst she sucked on his thumb from his right hand for fifteen minutes. Then the wizard had to ejaculate on each of the four corners of the building (this part of the ritual obviously would take some time to complete, allowing the wizard to recuperate between corners).
One Ward that Harry created was a nasty Anti-Harm Deterrent Ward. Basically, this ritual set up a ward around a house designed to detect the intentions of anyone who approached the house. If the person’s intentions were good, the ward would let them pass. But if the person wanted to physically harm someone, then the ward would cause that person to empty their bowels violently. If the person was left in the effects of the ward long enough, he’d collapse from dehydration. This ritual involved anal sex and the wizard had to pinch his own left nipple while simultaneously pinching the witch’s nose shut.
Another ward, dubbed the Evil Freezer, caused anyone who tried to cast an Unforgivable Curse to freeze in mid-incantation. The ritual was one of the longer ones to perform. First, Harry had to take Hermione from behind as she hung halfway out a window that faced the East as the sun rose, then he had to work on her bare bottom in a specific series of swats, pinches, and squeezes. Then he had to take her again, this time as she hung out a window on the West side during sunset.
However, not everything the couple came up with worked. Take for instance a potion Hermione had tried to create. Her plan was to have the potion halt the wizard’s climax, thereby extending the man’s performance by a significant period of time. Unfortunately when Harry tested this potion on himself, he proved that it didn’t work. In fact it was a very messy disaster. The potion didn’t extend his performance; it did however have the nasty side-effect of increasing the amount and force of his discharge a thousand fold.
“Blimey, it’s getting all over the place,” Harry commented. The potion had turned him into a lawn-sprinkler. Not the type of sprinkler that rains down evenly in a circular pattern, mind you. He was the type of sprinkler that spat and squirted in uneven, long arcs of fluid with a noisy discharge. Added to this analogy, ‘Harry, Jr.’ was making a very loud noise similar to a sprinkler. “SHPLISH - - SPLISH - - SLPISH-SQUIRT-SQUIRT-SQUIRT”
“Harry! STOP!” Hermione demanded and spat, as she tried to back away from the human sprinkler.
“I can’t!” he grunted and launched another rapid series of squirts that arced across the room, hitting the walls, floor, and ceiling... along with his girlfriend. A part of Harry, the dirty part, actually liked the latter target and so, unwillingly (or so he’d later claim) he aimed for the witch.
“AHK! PHHT!” Hermione spat and sputtered again. “Don’t get it in my eyes! Oh No! Not in my hair!”
And there were a few ideas that had nothing to do with magic. Such as Hermione’s own Massaging Oil which wasn’t too greasy, and heated upon contact (it could also be used as a lubricant, wink-wink). This new oil also turned out to be a healthy substitute for butter in baking (Harry wrote a note to mention in the book not to use it as a butter substitute after it was used for one or both of its other uses). And then Harry had several ideas on massages; he found he was a natural at foot rubs. Of course foot rubs led to the calves being massaged, which led to the thighs getting a good rub-down, and logically, this led directly to finger-banging.
~*~
One night after supper, Harry and Hermione were making their way back to their chambers down a deserted hallway.
“I came up with a new ward,” the brunette announced. “This ward will theoretically create an infallible door locking charm, as well as strengthening the windows and doors of a house during an attack. So if an attacker bypasses or breaks through the other wards, this ward would prevent him from entering the house. An Alohomora wouldn’t work and the attacker’s blasting hexes would be ineffectual. It would be the ideal ward to allow the inhabitants to escape through the floo, or even simply give them enough time for help to arrive.”
“That’s neat,” Harry said. And then asked what he felt was the most important part: the casting of this ward; “How’s it done?”
“Well, we’ll have to test it out,” she said. It was obvious by her eyes that she was more than willing to test the ward out dozens of times. Even after the ward was proven, it was clear that Hermione would still be willing to “test” it several more times. “But you, the wizard, would have to take me, the witch, from behind while I have my naked tits pressed against the door, or window - which ever item we’re trying to strengthen. Then, after you cum in me, you’d have to rub your bits on the same door or window, thereby spreading our combined juices on it. The ritual would have to be performed for every window and door.”
“Gee, the Shrieking Shack has a lot of doors and windows,” Harry said knowingly.
“Yes, that would mean that we would have to perform this ritual a number of times then, won’t we?” Hermione said with a smile. “Are you up for shagging me against each and every door and window in the Shack?” she asked coyly.
“Oh, at least two times for each one. In fact, I think I should take you into this classroom,” he said and led her to one of the castle’s numerous abandoned rooms, “and give the ward a try right now.”
The moment the door creaked open, a shout of “Accio Wands!” came from the darkness behind them. Before either could register what was happening, Harry and Hermione’s wands were magically pulled from their pockets, soaring to where the voice had come from.
Harry spun in time to see someone in the shadows flick their wand in his direction. An invisible wall forcibly pushed Harry and his girlfriend into the empty classroom. The couple tumbled across the floor and crashed into the far wall. As Harry started to get up, he heard Hermione yelp in surprise. The black haired wizard looked up to see his girlfriend already standing, but she had a thick rope coiling around her as if it was a snake. It wrapped around her ankles, up her legs, over her hips, it pinned her hands and arms to her midsection, and it bound her shoulders. Hermione teetered for a second before falling to the ground.
“Harry, run-” Hermione began. But a length of fabric materialized and tied itself around her mouth, effectively gagging her.
“At last, we’re alone,” Draco Malfoy said as he sauntered in and closed the door behind him. Hermione muffled something, most likely a threat at Draco. The blond ponce looked at the bound witch and corrected his statement. “Well, we’re mostly alone.”
Draco took two steps to Harry. With each step, Draco unhooked a clasp of his flaming pink robe.
“Wait, Malfoy, you don’t want to do this,” Harry protested as he took two steps back. If he had his wand, he’d Stun Draco, free Hermione, run out of the classroom, and pretend that this never happened. But since Draco was the only one with a wand and Harry knew that if he tried to escape, the blond wiz
ard would either magically trip him or worst; tie him up like he had to Hermione.
“Oh, but I do want to do this, Harry,” lisped Draco. He unhooked another clasp and Harry could see that Malfoy wasn’t wearing a shirt under his garishly colored robe. “You know, shortly before I returned to this marvelous castle, I was hit with a bout of unbearable suffering. Apparently, this dreadful pain affected anyone with a Dark Mark. It was all over the Prophet if you don’t recall.”
“Yes I do, actually. Why don’t you tell me how you overcame it,” Harry said nervously. He was hoping to distract Malfoy long enough to figure out a way to escape.
“I managed because of our love,” Draco said affectionately. “The thought of our passion, our destiny, our love, gave me the strength to persevere. That and drinking half a bottle of Fire Whiskey in one swallow helped, too.”
At this point, Draco theatrically threw his robes open. Harry quickly averted his eyes. However, he was not quick enough to miss the fact that Draco wasn’t wearing any pants or trousers. And, worse, that he had a frilly lace ribbon tied in a bow around a certain part of his anatomy.
“Come to me my heart. Let us join in the bonds of fated love,” Draco said, and began to walk to Harry with his arms wide open, ready to embrace the black haired wizard.
Harry, being the brave Gryffindor that he was, leapt behind Hermione’s prone body and attempted to shield himself from Draco with his girlfriend. Hermione tried to protest, because she obviously didn’t like the sight of the “gift bow” either.
“Aha, poor befuddled Harry,” huffed Draco disappointedly, “still trying to deny your inner feelings of longing.”
The blond flicked his wand and Hermione was tugged from Harry’s grasp, and dragged to the other side of the room.
“I guess I’ll just have to show you the error of your ways,” Draco said with a knowing smile. “I’ve been saving myself for you.”
