J K Rowling - [Harry Potter 0X]

by Harry Potter

  Instead of responding, Snape waved his wand and the doe disappeared like a puff of smoke, proving he was indeed the one that cast the doe Patronus.

  “Do you realize how much danger I’ve put myself under?” Snape snapped. “Leaving the Dark Lord’s castle once draws unwanted attention. However, you didn’t respond to my first call the other night, and I was forced to brave the hazards once again by coming here tonight!”

  “We didn’t know it was you,” defended Harry, with anger in his voice. He didn’t like being pushed around by Snape. And now that the git wasn’t his professor, Harry had no intention of holding back his anger out of fear for “losing House points.”

  “I must admit, the Patronus is not an effective communication tool,” Snape said, begrudgingly. “If only it could talk. Then, maybe it could deliver messages. But no, that would be insipidly preposterous.”

  “Perhaps we can come up with a better way to communicate,” suggested Hermione. “Why not a written code based off of LaMarche’s Brain Theory?”

  Snape seemed to ponder over this for a moment. “LaMarche was a genius, despite his penchant for making up new and infeasible plans for world domination, seemingly every night.”

  Then, visibly struggling, the greasy wizard admitted, “That appears to be a viable idea. We shall use LaMarche’ Brain Theory for any future communications.”

  “So, did you get the Locket?” asked Harry, hoping to stop the idle chatter. The sooner he was away from Snape the better as far as he was concerned.

  “You need to ask?” Snape questioned snidely. He reached into his pocket and withdrew the Locket and set it on a nearby table.

  “I would ask why the Shack is no longer a hovel, but I have a distinct feeling that I wouldn’t like the answer,” the greasy wizard commented, gazing at the Shack’s new grandiose interior. Harry recalled that he had accidentally recreated the building into its current palatial state when he and Hermione first made love.

  “How’d you get the Locket from Zardoz?” Hermione asked her former potions professor. “I was under the impression that he would never give up anything from his collection.”

  With Hermione’s comment, Harry suddenly recalled an article from the Daily Prophet. The article’s title had read; “Eccentric Collector Loses Everything in Fire.”

  “Wait, you burned his house down?”

  Snape glared at Harry with his black eyes a moment before admitting; “It had to be done.”

  “You burned down Zardoz’s house!” Hermione exclaimed.

  “You said it yourself: he would’ve never given up such a prize,” he justified, gesturing at Slytherin’s Locket. “The man was obsessed with the Founders. I knew that he couldn’t be bargained, bartered, or reasoned with.”

  “So you burned down his house?” Harry asked, still in disbelief.

  “Yes, there was no other way.”

  “Couldn’t you have swiped it in the middle of the night?” asked Hermione.

  “You seem to forget, the Locket is one of the Dark Lord’s Horcruxes,” argued Snape in a condescending tone. “If I had stolen it like a thief in the night, like you suggest, when Zardoz woke up and discovered the locket missing, he would’ve raised a commotion, to say the least. He would’ve alerted the authorities and the Daily Prophet. The news that Slytherin’s Locket was stolen would’ve surely reached the Dark Lord. And he would’ve become alarmed; so much so that he’d check on his other Horcruxes.”

  “Oh,” muttered Hermione. The thought of what Snape had described had clearly chilled her.

  “You could’ve have adjusted his memory, remove his memories dealing with the Locket,” said Harry. “There had to be another way than to destroy his house and his collection.”

  “Ah, that is a brilliant idea, Potter. Why didn’t I think of adjusting Zardoz’s memory? Because I’m not an utter imbecile!” snapped Snape. “What would’ve happened if I did just simply adjust his memory but he had some sort of paperwork, such as sale receipts and insurance coverage on the Locket, hmm? That would’ve raised suspicion, wouldn’t it? Can you imagine Zardoz, who had no recollection of buying the Locket, discovering evidence to the contrary? Again, he would’ve drawn unwanted attention that surely would’ve reached the Dark Lord.”

  “I see your point,” mumbled Harry.

  “It was necessary to set the fire and destroy Zardoz’s collection so that he’d think the Locket was destroyed with the rest of his collection,” Snape explained, patronizingly. “That way, the Locket would not have been singled out in any reports and be unlikely to gain the Dark Lord’s attention.

  “Have you located the final Horcrux?” the greasy wizard asked.

  “No, not yet,” Harry grumbled.

  “I shall try to garnish the information from the Dark Lord, but it will require tact and delicacy,” Snape mused. “If I find the hiding place, I will send you a message using LaMarche’s theory as agreed.”

  “We’ll do the same if we find it first,” Hermione declared, taking Snape’s comment as a challenge.

  “Then I wish you luck,” Snape said, obviously not meaning a word of it.

  Harry marched to the table and snatched up the Locket and slipped it into his pocket. Without saying goodbye, Harry took Hermione’s hand and led her through the trapdoor and into the underground tunnel.

  To say that Harry was upset would’ve been an understatement. Snape always got the young wizard to lose his cool and anger him. It seemed to Harry that Snape enjoyed riling him up.

  “Um, Harry, this might not be the best time to bring this up,” began Hermione, anxiously.

  “What?” barked Harry, still fuming over Snape.

  “It’s about Snape’s Patronus,” she said. “The form it takes.”

  “It’s a doe, big deal,” he returned. He was so angry that he was stomping his feet with each step through the secret tunnel.

  “Ah, the form a Patronus takes is representative of the caster’s affections, remember?” she continued, her nervousness would’ve been noticed by Harry if he wasn’t so upset at the time.

  “So what?”

  “Snape’s Patronus is a doe, Harry.”

  “That just means he is obsessed with my Mum,” he stated. Harry wished Hermione would just drop the subject.

  “Why would he cast a doe then?” she asked. “We know Lily wasn’t an animagus. If she had been, Remus would’ve told us by now. The doe cannot have any connection to Lily.”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “The doe is the counterpart to the stag. Snape’s Patronus is directly connected to your father’s animagus form.”

  “But that doesn’t make sense,” Harry stopped walking and faced his girlfriend. “Snape hated my dad. And the Patronus deals with affection and love. Why in the world would Snape’s Patronus be representative of my Dad?”

  “The only thing that makes sense is that Snape hated your father for a different reason, a reason he doesn’t understand himself,” suggested Hermione. “I think that Snape... ah... loved James.”

  At that moment, Harry felt very much like vomiting. Even the mere suggestion of what Hermione had said had frightened ‘Harry, Jr.’ so much that the organ ran away and hid in Harry’s body cavity.

  “B-bu-b-but he hated my Dad,” Harry said weakly, as his head spun and his stomach churned. How could Hermione even think that? It was bad enough that Snape liked wanking to his mother, but now Hermione was proposing that Snape loved his father.

  “Well, Draco hates you,” Hermione countered. “Yet, we know that he has been lusting over you.

  “I think, deep down, Snape was attracted to James from a young age, and it confused and frightened Snape,” speculated the brunette. “I’ve read that some men, or even boys, are often confused and frightened when they get homosexual desires for the first time. And Snape tried to quell this desire for James by hating him out of fear and confusion. Snape actively turned his affection for James into hate in order to counteract his new-found feelings
.”

  Harry had to put his hand on the wall of the tunnel to steady himself. If he didn’t there was a very good chance that he would fall to the ground.

  “And that’s probably why he’s overly obsessed with your mother,” continued Hermione. “He convinced himself that he wasn’t gay and fixated on Lily. Or even subconsciously he wanted to be her. That way he’d be with James, much like your mother was with him.”

  “But when we gave him Veritaserum he said he loved my mum,” Harry said, desperately trying to find a hole in Hermione’s logic for the sake of his own sanity. “Veritaserum makes people tell the truth!”

  “Truth is nothing more than an interpretation of emotions. One person’s truth is another’s lie. When he was given Veritaserum, Snape spoke his version of the truth, which wasn’t factual, in a sense. It’s clear that Snape has repressed his affection, so much so that he probably doesn’t even recall ever having loving feelings towards James and that he believes with all of his heart that he hated James and loved Lily,” countered Hermione.

  “But despite convincing himself that he hated James, Snape’s subconscious still remembers. And much like how your subconscious made your Patronus a stag, Snape’s made his a doe,” continued Hermione. “Essentially, Snape’s subconscious is admitting his hidden love for James by making his Patronus the female equivalent for your father’s animagus form.”

  Harry slumped against the earthen wall. When he discovered that Sirius and Remus had been lovers, he had been surprised and a little shocked. But this revelation regarding Snape disgusted Harry. If it had been any other bloke who had been in love with his father, Harry would’ve been able to take it in stride. But not Snape! He was the most vile, hateful man Harry knew, next to Voldemort. It was bad enough when Harry had been told that Snape was obsessed with his mother to the point of stalking her and wanking over the image of her and her possessions as he did with her school notes. But now he’s being told that that obsession was only a cover to hide Snape’s true love: James!

  However much he loathed admitting it, Hermione’s reasoning was sound. Snape, the foul, nasty wizard that had tormented Harry’s life for the past seven years, was unknowingly in love with the young wizard’s dead father.

  Hermione wrapped her arms around her troubled lover and whispered, “How about we put this nasty subject behind us and head back to our room. After we perform a particular ritual you can tie me up to the bedposts and have your way with me.”

  “That’s one of the reasons why I love you,” Harry said, returning the embrace. His arms still trembled from the shocking news, but he drew strength from his lover and their impending shag. “You always have a way of making everything seem brighter.”

  “Oh, how sweet,” Hermione said. “For such a nice compliment, I’ll let you cum wherever you want; in me or on me, anywhere.”

  “And that’s another reason I love you,” he said and kissed her. “So, what’s the ritual you have in mind?”

  “The Locating ritual,” she said. “We need, no, we have to find that last Horcrux before Snape does. I want to rub his hooked nose in it.”

  “And yet another reason I love you,” he said, not only because his lover was so confident and driven to best Snape, but because he was going to get a hand-job out of it.

  Author’s notes: Yes, I know I’m not the first person to point out that Snape must’ve been in love with James because of his Patronus, but that just means it makes sense to others as well. According to Rowling’s own rules dealing with the Patronus, it is easily deduced that Snape had the hots for Harry’s dad, not Lily. Of course, Rowling wanted to say that Snape’s Patronus was symbolic of Lily, and since James’ animal form is a stag, the male equivalent to a doe, that it meant James and Lily were soul mates. But since Rowling is utter crap at romance, this concept was lost somewhere between her notes and published material and the reader was left feeling uneasy and confused about the whole James/Lily/Snape triangle. Chapter Thirty Three: The gang discovers the location of the missing Horcrux. The moment Harry and Hermione entered their chambers, the brunette made a beeline directly to the potions cupboard. While quickly and efficiently pulling various ingredients out, she told Harry, “Give me one of your socks; you know that we need it to perform the locating ritual.” “Not that I don’t like han- err - I mean; not that I don’t think performing the location ritual isn’t a good idea, but don’t you think we should use Gryffindor’s sword to destroy the Locket first?” he asked, holding up the Horcrux in question. “Isn’t it dangerous to keep lying around?” “Harry, it’s not the One Ring. And we’re not Smeagol,” returned Hermione. “I doubt that it will be whispering to our souls and corrupting us. Besides, I want to trump Snape and find the last Horcrux before he does.” “Not only will we get a head start on that greasy git, but I’ll get a hand-job out of it, to boot,” Harry said, eagerly joining Hermione’s point of view. Hand-jobs and besting that arse Snape were two very worthwhile endeavors. “And as to not destroying the Locket, I’m hoping that leaving it whole for the moment will give us a new starting point for the ritual,” continued Hermione, stirring ingredients in the cauldron. “Since the Locket, one of the Horcruxes, will be in the same room as us, we should start right here rather than plunging through the floor like we have every time before. Hopefully, this will change the outcome and we’ll be able to see where the missing Horcrux is located.” A few minutes later, a naked Harry was sitting on the edge of the bed with his equally naked girlfriend kneeling before him. Her potion coated hands were wrapped around ‘Harry, Jr.’ who, needless to say, was very proud to be able to play such an essential part in the quest for Voldemort’s Horcruxes. It was truly a noble cause for a truly noble penis. That and hand-jobs were a hoot. A few moments after they began chanting “Praefoco Pullus” and “Ructo Vermis” Harry and Hermione, once again, had an out-of-body experience. The pair floated over Slytherin’s Locket on the desk where Harry had put it - or rather, where Harry had discarded it hastily in preparation of a hand-job. “See, Harry, it’s perfectly fine,” Hermione spoke, indicating the Horcrux. “It’s not corrupting us.” “Well, the Diary did corrupt Ginny,” argued Harry. “It didn’t corrupt her, it possessed her,” countered Hermione. “And that was after the silly girl started a correspondence with the thing. She spent weeks writing in it while it fed off of -” Hermione’s lecture was cut off as the couple dove through the floor. In no time, Harry and Hermione had once again found themselves floating in the inky blackness. “Damn, I was hoping that starting off at the Locket would change this,” said Hermione as she continued to stroke him. “Do you still get the feeling that this place is familiar, Harry?” “Well, besides being familiar with it because we’ve been here each time we do the han - err - location ritual, yeah, it does,” he replied. A few moments later the two were flying like a bullet once again. They burst forth from the ground and soared through the night sky. The landscape below was nothing more than a blur of lights and dark colors. Mountains, hills, and cities rocketed by them. They were moving so fast, yet again, that it would’ve been impossible for them to keep track of their journey. Finally, the pair began to slow down as they approached the keep that the villain Voldemort was using as his base. They flew through the walls as if the bricks and mortar were not there and found the evil wizard standing before a large, ornately decorated and carved mirror. “Where’s Wormtail?” asked Hermione in a panic. “I can’t see Wormtail!” “I don’t think Voldemort has him up his arse. Remember, Voldemort had his robes up around his hips when we saw that,” comforted Harry. Of course he not only said this to ease Hermione, but to alleviate the fear and revulsion that threatened to seize him as well. Harry was about to start a discussion with Hermione as to where the missing Horcrux could possibly be when Voldemort pulled out his wand. The snake-like man waved his wand in a circle about his own face. He incanted: “Verruca Vesuvius!” “Wait, that’s a Zit Hex,” announced Hermione just as dozens of large and disgusting blemishes sprung up all over V
oldemort’s face. “Why would Voldemort cast a Zit Hex at himself?” asked Harry. Unfortunately for Harry and Hermione’s psyche, the young wizard’s inquiry was answered by Voldemort’s action. The evil wizard leaned close to the mirror so that his nose was just an inch or two away from it. The fiend looked almost lovingly at the numerous pus filled mountains on his face. Delicately, Voldemort reached up, placed the tips of his forefingers on either side of a particularly large zit, and squeezed. The blemish erupted, spraying its white, lumpy discharge onto the mirror. With wide, sparkling eyes, Voldemort practically squealed; “Oh-ho, that was a good one!” The fiend then did something that truly disturbed Harry. Opening his mouth wide, Voldemort stuck out his tongue and ran it up the mirror, lapping up the infected discharge. “Oh my God,” bemoaned Hermione as Voldemort smacked his lips like a man who had just had a satisfying meal. Harry could hear his girlfriend’s revulsion in her voice. “That’s disgusting!” “Tonight will be a landmark in history. The world will tremble at my might!” the now-zit covered evil wizard boasted to himself. Once again, Voldemort began to squeeze another large pimple. “This is going to be a good one!” he said excitedly while the blemish began to swell. A soft pop announced the explosion of pus. He cheered ecstatically “YES!” before licking the greenish globs dribbling down the mirror once again. His red eyes sparkled and a mad grin split his face, Voldemort let out a shuttering breath, as if he had just been overcome with a wave of passion. It was clear that Voldemort was getting some sort of perverse thrill from popping and then licking up the zits that coated his face. The wizard’s hands trembled in anticipation as he reached for the next large white head. “I think I’m going to be ill,” groaned Harry with bile marching up his throat. Granted, the scene wasn’t as bad as when Voldemort demanded that Wormtail turn into a rat and crawl into his arse, but the thought of eating one’s zits for some sort of sexual thrill made Harry’s stomach churn. The disembodied wizard ordered his lover frantically, “Pump faster! I need to cum so we can end the ritual and get out of here!” “I’m trying! I’m trying!” she said, her transparent hands a blur of motion on ‘Harry, Jr.’ A knock on the door drew Voldemort’s attention away from his depraved activity. “What is it?” he barked, upset over the interruption. “Master, your servants have gathered in the hall as you requested. We await your orders, my Lord,” an unrecognizable voice sounded through the closed door. “I’ll be there in a moment,” snapped Voldemort. With a rapid motion, the fiend squeezed another zit, causing it to spray the discharge on the mirror. In a regrettable simultaneous action, Harry ejaculated that that precise moment; his seed left his loins the moment the yellowing pus left Voldemort’s blemish. He and Hermione returned to their bodies instantly. Blinking, Harry looked at his girlfriend. Like the times they performed this ritual before, his sticky ‘love juice’ was dribbling down her face. Normally, Harry got a naughty thrill at the sight of a messy-faced Hermione. But thanks to the disgusting scene he had just witnessed, the whitish ejaculate that dribbled down Hermione’s pretty face reminded him of Voldemort’s pus trickling down the mirror. To add to Harry’s emotional discomfort, the act of Voldemort eating his own pus unfortunately reminded Harry of one of Hermione’s favorite activities. His mind likened Voldemort’s action to that of Hermione licking up Harry’s cum, which just made the ordeal that much worse. Such a wonderful thing as his girlfriend gobbling up his sticky cum was now seemingly ruined because of Voldemort. “Well, that was a mood killer,” muttered Hermione. Harry’s discharge dripping down her face stood out on the witch’s sickly green complexion. Fighting back the half-burp, half-vomit affectionately referred to as a “verp,” Harry summarized “I take it this means I won’t be tying you to the bed and having my way with you.” “No,” she said and stood. “Pardon me; I’m going to throw up now.” “I’m next,” he said, fighting back the urge to purge his stomach. As he heard Hermione retching in the loo, Harry picked up Gryffindor’s Sword and marched to the Locket. He tapped the blade on the Horcrux lightly and the Locket cut cleanly in half. SoG SoG SoG It had been a restless night for both Harry and Hermione. The image of Voldemort “grooming” himself had left the couple feeling nauseous and queasy, which led to the fitful slumber. Also, they both had been looking forward to the whole “tying Hermione up to the bed and Harry having his way with her” thing and were now physically frustrated over the lack of binding charms and orgasms. The first thing Hermione did upon waking was to recast the anti-conception charm on herself. With the disturbing image of Voldemort and his perverse hobby still fresh in his mind, Harry said; “That’s not really necessary; I don’t think I can even think about sex for a long while.” “It’s better to be safe than sorry,” Hermione stated after completing the charm. “I don’t want to risk getting pregnant before both of us are ready.” After the two showered and dressed separately, a knock on the door sounded. Harry opened it to find Luna presenting the morning edition of The Daily Prophet. “Just thought you’d like to read this,” the blonde said, handing Harry the paper. “Ta,” she said with a wave and walked away. Hermione joined her boyfriend and they read the front page: “He Who Must Not Be Named Dealt Devastating Blow! Late last night, He Who Must Not Be Named and his followers launched a ten prong attack against prominent MLE and Wizengamot officials’ homes. Thankfully, these attacks backfired on You Know Who and his Death Eaters. One home that was targeted belonged to Madame Rose Witherton, a retired Hit Wizard and holder of the Order of Merlin, First Class. Madame Witherton is an elderly witch and by all rights, the score of Death Eaters who attempted to attack her should have killed her easily. However, last night happened to be Madame Witherton’s annual Auror and Hit Wizard Dinner Party. The forty retired and active duty Aurors and Hit Wizards who were dining at Madame Witherton’s home were able to successfully capture all twenty Death Eaters without any injuries. Most of the other nine homes faired better than Madame Witherton’s, despite not having a regiment of highly trained Dark Wizard Hunters. By chance, the families of these nine homes had all just purchased “Books of Love Magic: Volume One” a book on sex magic rituals for home cleaning and protection. The same book that had been recently protested by Proper Behavior Now, an activist group, as being unnatural. Mr. and Mrs. Huge Jones of Ipswich had just finished performing several rituals listed in the sex-magic book when the Death Eaters attacked. “Me and Jill (Mrs. Jones) were in the middle of the Degnoming Ritual when we heard a commotion - well, a commotion different from the one we were making. I looked outside and saw a dozen or so Death Eaters writhing on the ground, expelling their bowels.” Of these Death Eaters, seven were apprehended by Aurors called to the scene. Another house, belonging to Carl and Marybeth Swilde, was besieged by a reported fifteen Death Eaters. But thanks to the Binding and Anti-Apparation Rituals listed in the sex-magic book that the Swiles performed, eleven assailants were apprehended and sent to Azkaban. Unfortunately, You Know Who led the attack on the Cumberson home in Bristol in person. The Most Feared Dark Wizard was able to dismantle the wards that Mr. and Mrs. Cumberson had recently erected by following the book’s instructions and detailed photos. Thankfully however, the time He Who Must Not Be Named spent tearing down the sex-ritual wards gave the Cumbersons and their four children (Alec 10, Gus 7, Phyllis 4, and Roger 16 months) enough time to escape to safety. “It’s a shame our house and everything in it was burnt to the ground by You Know Who,” said Mr. Cumberson. “But my family is safe and that’s all that really matters. I owe a great deal of gratitude to Puckle, Weatherby, Hunter, and Gaiman; not only did their rituals save my family’s lives, but they gave me and the missus a lot of fun in the process. We can’t wait to erect the wards around our new place. And the fantastic sex that goes with it, you know?” In all, 52 Death Eaters were capture while an estimated 31 escaped. Only the Cumberson home suffered significant damage. Alicia Spinnet, a clerk from Franklin’s of Cardiff, the exclusive retailers of Books of Love Magic, stated that she has already received orders from several different countries due to
the early news of these foiled attempts. “I just got ten owls from Germany, six from Spain, and twenty-one from France, all asking for copies of the book in different languages,” Miss Spinnet said. “I’m going to have to post Har - I mean I’ll have to post Tim Hunter and have him print up some foreign language versions of the book.” Many in the book industry are already predicting the news that the rituals listed in the Books of Love Magic were successful against attacks will make the sales skyrocket. After completing the article, Hermione took the paper from Harry’s hands, placed it on the table and spoke in a calm and even tone, “You’re going to tie me to that bed and have your way with me right this instant.” The lustful and longing look in his lover’s eyes chased away any disturbing image of Voldemort and his hygiene that might have lingered in Harry’s memory. In a scant matter of seconds and a few flicks from Harry’s wand, Hermione was starkers and tied to the bed. However, instead of binding her wrists to the headboard and ankles to the footboard with invisible ropes as was the norm, Harry decided to mix things up a bit and “reversed the configuration”; even though Hermione was positioned on the bed in a normal fashion, her wrists were bound to the footboard while her ankles to the headboard. This meant that the brunette’s legs were pulled up and over her head with her bare bottom up in the air, much to her pleasure. Once she was properly secured, Harry began having his way with her, just not in the traditional sense. The young wizard sat on the bed and began reading “Books of Love Magic: Volume One” aloud. If Hermione had been an “average” witch, this tactic wouldn’t have done anything. But since Hermione loved books, in a near primal way, this action did a bang up job of turning her crank. Added to her unique pleasure was the fact that she wrote this particular book. “Books of Love Magic: Volume One. Written by Hermione Granger under the pen name Mona Puckle,” Harry read and his lover moaned. “Acknowledgment: this author would like to thank Thos. Antric and his landmark book The Magic of Making Love which was the spark and inspiration for this work. “Chapter One: Easy Home Cleaning Rituals. “Part One: The Dusting and Picture Straightening Ritual...” As Harry continued to read, he held the book in front of his face with his left hand while his right busied itself by rubbing, tweaking, pinching and poking various areas on Hermione’s nubile body, only pausing in this activity to turn the page. By the time Harry had gotten to the second chapter - the one on cooking rituals - his fingers were very wet and sticky; therefore, so were the pages of the book. “Oh Harry, I need you now,” Hermione groaned out. “But I’m in the middle of reading the Sour Milk Reverter Ritual,” he falsely protested and pushed two fingers into her warm, wet folds. “PUT THAT BOOK DOWN AND SHAG ME ROTTEN!” she pressed in a less-than-ladylike way. Harry smiled a wicked smile and ordered; “Beg for it.” And beg for it she did. The young witch used such delicate urgings like “I want you to slam me with your cock” and “After you fuck my wet box, I want you to put your cock up to my face so I can lick it: I want to taste ‘Miss Nibbles’ on ‘Harry, Jr.’” When Harry happily succumbed to Hermione’s pleas, he too was vocal. He further honed his blossoming skills in dirty talk by saying phrases along the lines of “You’re a naughty little girl whose naughty book will be read by everyone in the world thanks to that article about the attacks. And now, everyone in the world will know just how naughty you are.” “Do you like it when I stick my fingers up your bum while I’m shagging you?” And another phrase which got a congratulatory cheer from Hermione was: “How does it feel to know that everyone will know that you like to have your fanny filled with hot cum, you dirty girl.” It was cathartic for Harry when he came on his lover’s face. As Hermione wiped the sticky residue off her face and licked her fingers clean, the damage that had been caused by Voldemort’s actions were healed. That and the naughty act recharged Harry and in a few moments he was shagging Hermione once again. SoG SoG SoG Over the next few days Harry and Hermione jumped right into creating new rituals for Books of Love Magic: Volume Two. One that Hermione particularly liked was called the “Home Shield Ritual.” After the ritual was performed, the house was encased with an invisible shield that would rise when a threat was sensed. The shield was so powerful that it could withstand everything from an earthquake to an attack by a rampaging dragon. Of course the part that Hermione liked the best was the ritual itself: it included buggery and dirty talking by both participants. Luna even participated in the ritual creation. The blonde made a ritual that would aid in the fertility of crops, involving the “doggie-style” position and something called “fish-hooking.” While they worked on the second book, news of the success of the first volume continued to surprise the two couples. In Poland, the book was credited with thwarting an up-and-coming dark wizard. After several generations of fighting, two feuding families in Australia formed a truce - and an orgy - thanks to the Books of Love Magic. The book was selling thousands and thousands of copies in every country save for the United States, mainly because the magical society there was originally based off of Puritan beliefs and still publicly shunned sex as a pleasurable activity, considering it a necessary evil. Every week, Alicia sent Harry and Hermione bags full of galleons along with notes of thanks. Due to the commission on sales she received, Alicia was able to move out of her tiny, rented flat and instead move into a three bedroom home of her own. Of course the money Alicia got from the book sales paled in comparison to Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Luna’s shares. A proper description of the teens’ financial status would be “filthy rich.” One morning during breakfast, Ron, who now had a perpetual smile etched on his face due to the gold that weighed down his pockets, was contemplating how to tell his parent that he now had an excess of money. “I can’t just show up one day and throw a sack of galleons on the table, now can I?” he asked, rhetorically. “I mean, they’ll want to know where I got it from. I can’t tell them that me and Luna are ‘Neil Gaiman’ and ‘Perky Weatherby.’” “That’s Perky ‘The Juggs’ Weatherby,” corrected Luna. “They’d have a coronary if they found out I was in a sex magic book,” concluded Ron. “Maybe we can talk with the twins,” suggested Harry. “Have them say they started a side business - an owl order catalogue or something - and they hired you. They can say it’s going so well that they are paying you loads of money.” “Yeah, that might work,” Ron said, shoveling food into his mouth. While Harry, Hermione, and Luna watched Ron unconsciously imitate a famished hippogriff, Ginny, who was showing a good deal already, waddled up to the two couples with Neville in tow. “Your guys’ book has really gotten on my nerves,” the young mother-to-be said, grouchily. “You’re just upset because you’re far enough along in your pregnancy that you and Neville can’t have sex,” Luna said, grinning over her unborn niece or nephew growing in Ginny’s belly, not over her sister-in-law’s predicament. “Otherwise, you might hurt the baby with that monstrosity that Neville calls a penis.” “There are other ways you two can please each other without intercourse where Neville won’t accidentally push through your cervix, Ginny,” offered Hermione. “Yeah, yeah, blow-jobs, labia-licking, and the like. We’re doing just fine in that area,” Ginny said, dismissively. “Ginny’s really good at that stuff,” Neville said with a combination of pride and embarrassment. “The blow-job bit, not the labia-licking one.” “Merlin knows she’s had loads of practice at that,” Harry muttered into Hermione’s ear. Ignoring Hermione’s snickering, Ginny huffed, “I’m upset over everyone bugging me!” “Why would anyone bother you because of the book?” asked Harry. “Every single student - and a few of the teachers - have gotten it into their heads that they want to have sex in every possible room in the castle,” the red haired witch explained. “Thanks to your damned book, there have been no less than twenty couples who have had sex in the library and a handful of orgies in the Room of Requirements. Rumor has it that Megan Jones and Blaise Zabini snuck into the Headmistress’ office and shagged on her desk. The Hufflepuffs are boasting that they had a gangbang in the kitchen-” “Bet the House-Elves liked that,” Harry commented off handedly. “If they
’re like Dobby, they like to watch.” “Now they’re trying to get into the Chamber,” Ginny said. “The Chamber of Secrets?” asked Hermione, incredulously. “Yeah, since seemingly every square inch of this castle has been used to shag on or in, there’s a bunch of people trying to get into the Chamber so they can have bragging rights of being the first ones to do it there,” Ginny said. “Orla Quirke dragged me into Moaning Myrtle’s loo, she said it was important. When I got there, I saw Orla’s boyfriend, Steward Ackerley, hissing and spitting like a snake at the faucet trying to get it to open. Orla brought me there hoping that I could give them pointers on how to speak parseltongue - because they thought I remembered being possessed - so they could open the Chamber.” “Wait, parseltongue is a magical language,” Ron barked. “You can’t imitate a magical language! For pity’s sake, it’s a language where you talk to snakes and everybody knows snakes don’t have ears!” “Snakes do have organs that pick up vibrations, actually. So people can imitate noises that could sound close enough to parseltongue,” offered Luna. “Maybe they’ll get lucky and mimic ‘open’ close enough to trick the magic surrounding the entrance.” “That’s assuming that ‘open’ in parseltongue is a simple word to pronounce as it is in English,” returned Hermione. “What if ‘open’ ends up being a four or five syllable word instead of a two syllable as it is in English? Then there’s also the fact that there may be several different words or sounds for the word ‘open’ in parseltongue. One may mean to open a door another may mean to be open and truthful and there may only be a slight, but vital difference in pronunciation between the two words. You could accidentally say the latter ‘open’ and the Chamber would remain closed because you unknowingly said the improper word.” “Don’t forget there are some aspects of parseltongue that have to be sub-vocal,” Harry said. “When the Basilisk was roaming around, I heard it twice when I was with people; once with Hermione and Ron and the other with that git Lockhart. And no one, besides myself, heard anything: no hissing, nothing. That means there has to be some part to the language that are too low or too high for people who aren’t parselmouths to hear.” “So when Harry says open, we could hear his hiss, but the parselmouth magic could make parts of that hiss go so high or so low that we couldn’t hear it,” Hermione concluded. “Regardless of whether a non-parselmouth can open the Chamber or not, why would anyone want to have sex down there,” Harry said with his face scrunching up in disgust. “It’s so dark and wet down there...” His eyes grew wide as a revelation dawned on him. It was dark and wet down there! Harry grabbed Hermione’s hand and dashed to their chambers. “What’s going on Harry?” demanded Hermione, stumbling behind him. “Have to get the Sword,” he answered quickly. Throwing the door open, Harry rushed to the cupboard and withdrew Gryffindor’s Sword. Once again, he grabbed Hermione’s hand and began running through the corridor. “Oi, hold up,” Ron cried out as he and Luna gave chase. “My breakfast hasn’t settled yet! All this running is making it jostle about in my stomach and that’s not good for digestion!” Harry led his friends to Moaning Myrtle’s loo. There, just as Ginny had described, were two fifth year Ravenclaws, hissing vainly at the sink. “You two, leave,” Harry ordered the younger students firmly. His forceful tone made the two fifth-years leave. That and holding the sword as if Harry was going to start swinging the naked blade around didn’t hurt the younger pair’s decision to obey Harry’s order. “Aw, no fair,” one grumbled as they sulked out of the bathroom. “We wanted to be the first to shag down there.” Once the four were alone, Hermione asked with a touch of revulsion; “Did you drag me down here so that you and I could be the first to have sex in the Chamber?” Clearly, the thought of all that muck and mire in the dark, dank room was not a turn on for her. “Oh, could Ronald and I be the second couple to have sex in the Chamber?” asked Luna. Apparently, she wasn’t as picky as Hermione. Harry bent over the faucet and imagined he was talking to a snake. “Open.” “See, it sounds inhuman,” Ron pointed out as an opening in the wall appeared. “No one can imitate that! It’s simply ludicrous to even think that anybody could get that thing open by just ‘guessing’ the sounds!” Harry made to climb into the hole when Hermione grabbed him. “You will tell me what’s going on,” she demanded. “The last Horcrux is down there,” Harry said. “We thought the location ritual wasn’t working because we kept ending up in darkness. But it was working! We kept ending up down there. The only problem was that there’s no light down there and that’s why we couldn’t see anything! That’s why it seemed familiar to me, because I’ve been in the Chamber.” “Oh,” the brunette uttered in realization. Hopping into the opening, Harry slid down the long tunnel. He could hear his friends a few seconds behind him. After tumbling out of the tunnel Harry stood, pulled out his wand, and incanted “Luminos.” A thin beam of light emanated from his wand. He helped Hermione stand while Luna helped Ron to do the same. As Harry brushed the fragments of rat bones from her robe, Hermione cast the Light Charm as well. A moment later, two beams of light from Ron and Luna’s wands joined Harry and Hermione’s. The brunette witch eyed the beams of light and said; “Now that there’s light and we can see, we can use the location ritual. With Ron and Luna searching the Chamber, we can see exactly where the Horcrux is!” For a brief moment, Harry contemplated not reminding Hermione that the Sword could be used as a divining rod to help find the Horcrux. The thought of a hand-job was enticing, even in this dark, dank place. However, Harry recalled the disturbing things Voldemort had done, both with Wormtail and popping his own zits. Our hero feared that if he and Hermione performed the han - location ritual again, that they would see Voldemort doing something far more disturbing. “Actually, we can use the Sword as a divining rod,” said Harry, saddened at the lost opportunity of a hand-job. It was just another heinous crime that he would have to add to Voldemort’s list: kidnapping, torture, murder, and hand-job mood killer. Harry held the Sword in front of him. The tip bobbed and weaved slowly under its own power. A small pull turned the Sword, pointing the weapon toward a passageway and Harry followed it. As the four friends wandered through the Chamber, Ron asked; “What do you think the last Horcrux is?” “Knowing You Know Who, it’s something that belonged to one of the Founders,” offered Luna. “I, too, wonder what the artifact could be.” “Well, we had Slytherin’s Locket and Ring, Hufflepuff’s Cup, and Gryffindor’s ridiculous Anvil,” listed Hermione. “So I would assume it would have to be something of Ravenclaw’s.” Harry didn’t participate with the conversation because he was focusing on the gentle pulls and tugs he felt through the Sword so he could follow it. A few moments later, Harry and his friends entered the main Chamber where he defeated the Basilisk and Tom Riddle; thereby unknowingly destroyed the first Horcrux. The Sword was now being pulled with force instead of the mild nudging and pulling that had occurred previously. “I think it’s somewhere in here,” announced Harry as the Sword led him to the yet unknown target. Harry walked by a giant column and the Sword swung in his hand, pointing at the pillar. He eyed the stone and mason pillar before him, saying; “I think we found it.” “It’s the column?” asked Ron in disbelief. “Yeah,” Harry said, walking in a circle around the large base. The entire time, the Sword pointed directly at the column. “He must’ve made this into a Horcrux when he visited Dumbledore and asked to be the Dark Arts instructor years ago,” Hermione said. “That would explain why his ‘One-Year Curse’ against the Defense instructors has worked so well. He has a fragment of his spirit in the castle itself, powering the curse!” “Okay, so his soul is in the column which is connected to the castle, and therefore it’s something that belonged to all four Founders,” said Harry. “Let’s end this, use the Sword and destroy it,” Hermione said, clearly excited over the notion of demolishing the last Horcrux. “Ah, I wouldn’t do that,” Luna said, her wide, silvery grey eyes staring up at the ceiling. “Why not?” asked Harry, just as eager as his lover to destroy the Horcrux. “I have a very good sense of direction and I’m fairly certain that we’re directly
under the Astronomy Tower,” the blonde said. “So?” “The Horcuxes that have been destroyed before split in half when the Sword touched it, even slightly, correct?” Luna said. “That means that the column will split in half when Harry uses the Sword on it.” “Oh, shite,” cursed Hermione as she, too, looked up at the ceiling. “What does that mean?” asked Ron. “It means that this column looks big enough to be the main support for the Tower. If we destroy the Horcrux, we destroy the column, and destroying the column will bring the Astronomy Tower down right on top of the school,” explained Harry with dread as the image of the giant tower falling on the castle and turning it to rubble played out in his head. “If we destroy the Horcrux, we destroy the school,” Hermione clarified further. “Shite,” echoed Ron. “But we can’t just let this last Horcrux go,” Harry said, struggling with the decision that faced him: let the school stand and Voldemort would be immortal or destroy the school in order defeat the fiend and save countless lives. Harry sighed and steeled himself for what had to be done. “I love this castle, it’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a real home. But Voldemort’s out there hurting and killing people. We can’t have that,” he said. “Even though this castle means so much to me and a lot of other people, in order to defeat Voldemort, we have to destroy it.” “Obviously, we’d have to evacuate the school before we destroy the Horcrux,” offered Hermione, agreeing with Harry’s assessment. “We can ask the House-Elves to make sure everyone is out. They know all of the hiding places and secret rooms. That and all the books as well; we’d have to save them of course. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to the books... or the people. Then we’ll make a Portkey to transport us to safety once Harry destroys the Horcrux.” There was a sad warble in her voice over the thought of ruining the school. “Wait, I have a better idea,” Harry said. “Even if we destroy this Horcrux, I’ll still have to defeat Voldemort. Why not lure him in here and destroy the column, then the whole castle crumbling down on his head will do all the work for me and I won’t have to duel Voldemort.” “How would we trick him into coming into the Chamber?” asked Ron. “We can have Snape tell him it would be the best way to attack the school,” said Hermione. “We could convince McGonagall to remove the Anti-Portkey Wards around the Chamber if there are any and have Snape tell Voldemort that the Anti-Portkey Wards in the Chamber are weak or even nonexistent and he could use this as a launching point.” “That would be brilliant!” cheered Harry. “That way we can use Snape to lure not only Voldemort, but any followers he still might have here. We’d be able to take care of all of them in one stroke!” “And Snape could help make sure they can’t escape by booby trapping any Portkeys they might have,” added Luna. “I’ll write a coded post to Snape tonight,” concluded Hermione. SoG SoG SoG Later that same night, Harry heard a knock on the door and opened it to find Courtney, the Auror in training that was helping guard the castle. “Hey Courtney,” he greeted the Auror and ushered her into the room. “What brings you by?” “Hermione asked me over,” she answered. “I’m hoping you two want to put on another show for me.” “Err,” he began awkwardly. Harry didn’t know the reason Hermione had for calling on Courtney. However, knowing how kinky his lover had gotten, it was entirely possible that she did in fact want to give Courtney a show. “Actually, I asked you here to see if you could do a favor for us,” Hermione said. “Oh, you want me and Draco to return the favor and give you a show!” cheered Courtney. “Fantastic, let me go get him!” “Please no,” mumbled Harry. The thought of watching his school-nemesis naked and going at “it” was disturbing. “Well, in a way, yes I do want you and Draco to put on a show,” Hermione said and Harry, his fears justified, felt like fleeing. “Harry and I are planning on luring Voldemort into a trap. And to make sure he falls for it, I’ve devised a ritual that will do just that. But I need someone with the Dark Mark for the ritual to work. That means Draco.” “Wait, I thought we were going to have Snape bait the trap?” Harry whispered into Hermione’s ear as to not reveal the identity of their spy to the Auror. “There’s a chance that Voldemort won’t fall for it. This ritual I created will ensure that he does buy it,” whispered Hermione. “In essence, it will be a burning desire in Voldemort to attack the school.” “Wait, you want You Know Who to attack the school? Are you mad?” Courtney blurted out. Clearly, Hermione’s hushed response wasn’t as quiet as it needed to be. “Don’t worry; the House-Elves will make sure every one is away from the school and safe,” assured Hermione. “As well as all the books.” “I don’t know if I like this idea,” Courtney said. “The thought of You Know Who attacking the school is scary to say the least.” “We have a failsafe plan that will end Voldemort,” Hermione said confidently. “You’re sure?” “Positive,” answered Harry. “Okay, what do you want me to do?” the Auror asked. “As I said before, this ritual will instill a burning desire in Voldemort. And this burning desire will come from Draco with his Dark Mark the connecting factor,” explained Hermione. “I need Draco to be really, really randy for this ritual to work properly. The desire he feels will fuel the ritual, therefore, the more he feels the better the ritual will work.” “So you want me to shag him rotten?” asked Courtney. “Hell, I don’t need an excuse to do that.” “It has to be more than just a wild shag,” corrected Hermione. “It has to be the most memorable moment of his life. His wildest desire and fantasies must be fulfilled. Draco has to be one-hundred percent into the act, if you know what I mean.” “Hell no!” barked Harry, knowing where his girlfriend was heading. Even though Draco was with Courtney, it was no secret that the blond Slytherin still harbored feelings for Harry. “What? Oh, I get it; all of Draco’s fantasies!” the Auror said with a wicked smile. “So you want me and Harry to double team Draco? A little ‘Draco Sandwich’ action?” “In a manner of speaking, yes,” replied Hermione. “I’d rather die a horrible, screaming death,” Harry said, firmly. Such a fate was infinitely more appealing than being the slightest bit intimate with Draco. “But Harry, it’ll be for the greater good.” Courtney said with a bemused chuckle. “The greater good can suck ‘Harry, Jr.’” “No, that’ll be Draco doing the sucking, not the greater good,” returned Courtney playfully. “Hell no!” repeated Harry with no humor whatsoever. “C’mon, if you do Draco, Hermione and I will do each other and you can watch,” suggested the Auror. The idea of Draco disgusted and revolted Harry so much that even the enticing thought of two beautiful witches making love wasn’t enough to sway him, even slightly. “I knew... and actually hoped Harry wouldn’t do that. So I came up with a backup plan,” Hermione said, pulling a flask out of her robes. “I nicked some polyjuice from Slughorn’s supply cupboard earlier today.” The brunette handed Courtney the flask. “I suggest that you and Draco do the deed then you can leave the room and say something about having a present for him. Once you’re out of his sight, you can take the polyjuice, return to the room and do Draco again. For it to really work, Draco will have to believe that it’s the real deal, that it’s Harry, not you under polyjuice, at the time. But after you’re done, please tell him the truth; I don’t want Draco thinking my lover swings both ways.” “Neat!” Courtney abruptly plucked a hair from Harry’s head. “I love polyjuice role-playing!” “Place this ball somewhere in the room,” Hermione said, handing Courtney something that looked like a cross between a crystal ball and a paperweight. “It will absorb the passion Draco feels. That will be the fuel for the ritual.” “I’ll get to see what Tonks was talking about when she said she knew how much blokes like blowjobs, now. Draco has been aching to gobble up Harry’s bits,” Courtney said with a broad smile. “I’ll bring you the ball back tomorrow.” With that, Courtney left the room. Harry felt a chill descend upon him at the thought of someone taking his form to bugger Draco. Even if it was for the greater good, the mere thought of Courtney using a magic replica of ‘Harry, Jr.’ to go spelunking in Draco’s cave made Harry nauseous. ‘Harry, Jr.’ should never, ever do that - even if the ‘Harry, Jr.’ in question wasn’t the real thing but a repli
ca. It was an affront to his penis that it be used in such an awful manner. “I knew this would be troubling for you, so I’ve got you a present for being such a brave man,” said Hermione as she walked over to the cupboard. She withdrew a blindfold and wrapped it around her head and eyes. “I think we’ll need more than just kinky sex to quell my nausea,” said Harry with a frown. He could feel his skin turn clammy as if he was going to be physically ill. “Oh, it’ll be more than just kinky,” Hermione’s voice sounded from inside the bathroom, several feet away from where she was standing. Harry looked to the Hermione still by the cupboard and asked “You got another Time Turner?” “Not just a Time Turner, Harry,” a third Hermione’s voice came from the bedroom. Two more blindfolded versions of Hermione, evidently from the near future, stepped out of their respective rooms and stood in the doorways. After a moment where he opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, Harry asked; “But didn’t we get rid of the Time Turner?” “I created a new one through a time paradox again,” Hermione, the original one standing by the cupboard said. “One of the future versions of me handed the Time Turner to me earlier.” “And I got that Time Turner from her a few hours from now so that I can give it to her in the past,” the future Hermione in question said. “So the Time Turner popped into existence due to a paradox just like the one we used before,” the third added. “I better not think about it otherwise I’ll just end up with a headache,” Harry said, pushing his mind away from trivial things such as paradoxes and to more important issues such as three Hermiones. “But this night isn’t just about the joys of Time Turners. I stole three dosages of polyjuice from Slughorn, not just one,” the Hermione by the cupboard said. “One for Courtney to use with Draco, and the other two for me.” The two future Hermiones shuffled blindly to join their past version by the cupboard. The original Hermione handed each of her doppelgangers a flask. As her duplicates drank their potions, Hermione said “I also took some hair from Su Li and Padma Patil.” Harry’s eyes nearly popped out of his head and performed a jig as two versions of Hermione slowly changed into the exotic beauties of Su and Padma. Su was significantly smaller than Hermione whereas Padma was pleasantly stacked with an attractive, ample bum. This meant that Hermione-Su look rather silly in her now-oversized robes and Hermione-Padma’s robes popped open due to her large breasts. “Remember to breathe, Harry,” Hermione said in Padma’s voice. “I took the liberty of brew a few dosages of virility potions for tonight,” she said in Su’s voice. “And don’t get any ideas about using the Time Turner to bring future versions of yourself tonight like last time,” original Hermione said. “This is a present for you.” With his eyes closed, Harry took in a long, deep breath to center himself. Once he achieved this cool and collected state - or as close as his randy mind would allow - Harry opened his eyes and suggested; “How about we start things off with the three of you ‘entertaining’ one another while I sit over here and watch for a bit. Think of it as... what did you call it the last time we used the Time Turner? Ah yes, think of it as ‘advanced masturbation.’” “That’s a good idea,” Su-Hermione said. “I say you and I team up on Padma-me,” Hermione said to her Su-double. “She has lovely breasts and I can’t wait to play with them.” “Then we can see if we’re good at labia-licking, as opposed to Neville’s testimony regarding Ginny’s talents,” offered Padma-Hermione as the other two exposed her large breasts. A tear escaped ‘Harry, Jr.’s eye at the sight of Padma-Hermione’s boobs. They weren’t nearly as large as Luna’s, which were enormous, but they were impressive. The polyjuiced-Indian witch’s big, dark nipples and areolas stood out in contrast with Hermione and Su-Hermione’s pinks tongues as they licked them. “Polyjuice role-playing is awesome!” Harry cheered from his chair as Hermione and Su-Hermione continued to stimulate Padma-Hermione. Chapter Thirty Four: It’s time for Harry to face his destiny! With an ache in both his lower back and ‘Harry, Jr.’, Harry blinked his eyes. Stiff and sore, he slowly sat up. “It’s about time you woke up,” Hermione greeted him. “What time is it?” “Nearly supper.” “Damn. I must’ve been knackered.” “Ejaculating fourteen times will have that effect.” “I guess that would explain why I’m so sore down there,” he commented and then asked, “Did you really keep count?” “Of course I did,” she said, sitting on the bed next to him. A warm smile graced her lips. “You’re my virile wizard. Even with the aid of potions, you were amazing.” “Amazing was I?” “It was definitely one for the history books.” The pride Harry had felt before falling into unconsciousness returned with gusto. He felt his face heat up and a wide grin stretched across his face. “Where are your two counterparts?” he asked, vainly trying to quell his smile. “One’s already used the Time Turner to go back to last night, the other one is in the library waiting for her turn to go back,” she said. The brunette leaned forward and placed a quick peck on his lips. “I’ll fetch you some food.” She leapt up and walked across the room. As she walked, Harry eyed her wonderful bum as it swayed back and forth. Cocking an eyebrow, Harry looked down to ‘Harry, Jr.’, silently asking of it was up for another go. After all, Hermione’s bottom just begged for a repeat performance. The organ replied “Sod off. I’m bloody tired!” Normally, ‘Harry, Jr.’ would be ready and willing to play with Hermione, but cumming fourteen times in one night had earned the penis some rest. Hermione returned with a plate full of fruits. She took her place next to her lover and brought a strawberry up to his lips. After he ate that piece, Hermione presented him a slice of pineapple. As his girlfriend continued to feed him, the door banged open and Courtney came barging into the room. “Blow - Jobs - Are - The - BEST!” she announced in no uncertain terms. She then crinkled her nose, smelling the air, and stated “Cor, it smells like sex in here. Did I miss another show?” “Harry came fourteen times,” Hermione said, beaming with pride over her boyfriend’s achievement. “Blimey, that’s a lot of spunk,” Courtney said, nodding her head in approval. “I don’t think even the House-Elves could clean that much cum out of the sheets. You’ll probably have to burn them. “Of course Draco was no slouch either.” She held up her hand and extended all five fingers. “Twice for me and three times for you, Harry.” A sudden urge to run far, far away popped up in Harry’s mind. Courtney was encroaching upon a subject that made the young wizard nervous and nauseous, to say the least. “That’s... all we want to hear about that,” Hermione said, hoping to end Courtney’s recollection. “Aw, you’re no fun,” the Auror pouted. “But I have to tell you, Hermione: you MUST grow a penis and have someone give you a blow-job. Abso-bloody-lutely fantastic!” “I’m not sucking dick,” Harry announced. “Not even if it was mine?” Hermione asked, playfully. Or at least Harry hoped it was playful. He prayed that his lover wasn’t that kinky. “Hell no,” he said with finality. “You two are so weird,” Courtney said with a chuckle. “It’s funny how that even though you’re so kinky and wild that some things still make you queasy.” “Without going into any details, please, I take it Draco was into the act and therefore the glass ball I gave you is fully charged?” asked Hermione. “Oh Merlin yes! I though he was going to burst when I began-” “I’m sorry Courtney but I can’t bear any details about your... adventure,” Hermione spoke up. “I know you’re into him, but Draco just gives me the creeps. It’s difficult for me to even understand why anyone would be into someone like Draco.” “Oh, bother,” lamented Courtney. She pulled the glass ball that Hermione had given her the night before, and offered it to the other witch. “If I can’t share my bi-wonder experience with you two, then I guess I’ll just have to share with Tonks. She’d appreciate it.” “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, really I am,” said Hermione, taking the ball from Courtney and carefully setting it down on the tabletop. The magical construct was now filled with burning red and orange lights, swirling around in the glass. “I just don’t want to hear any sentence that contains the word ‘Draco’ and ‘penis’. It’s a standard that I must hold to.” “I completely agree,” said Harry. “Well, then you’ll be ple
ased to know that Draco discovered that it was actually me and not Harry, after the fact. And by ‘fact’ I mean plentiful amounts of wet, dirty sex. I reckoned you two didn’t want him thinking that Harry just popped over for hummers and buggering,” she said. “Thank you,” Harry said. A great weight had lifted - a part of him feared that Draco would approach him in the halls and ask for another tumble. “But you really have to experience a blow-job, Hermione,” repeated Courtney. “It’s imperative!” “I’m not sucking a dick,” Harry reiterated. “Me, I’ll do anything at least once as long as it won’t leave a mark. Well, not a lasting mark, anyway,” Courtney bragged. “Or scat; I won’t do that.” “Maybe we should introduce you to a ghost we know,” offered Harry. “Yes, I think he’d love you,” Hermione said. “Except for the lack of scat bit.” “Really? I’ve heard some strange rumors about a perverted ghost lurking around the castle.” Courtney was clearly curious and intrigued by this unnamed mystery ghost. “Pardon me, but my ears are burning,” the ghost in question said, as he made himself visible. “Is someone talking about me behind my back?” Harry was fairly certain that Gryffindor had been hiding, unseen, in the room for some time. The young wizard even speculated that there was a slight chance the ghost was there when he and Hermione had their Time Turner/Polyjuice foursome. The only issue that cast doubt on this speculation was that Gryffindor would’ve given tips and pointers, if not offering outright to join in by saying something as uncouth as “Is there room for another willy in that jumbled mass of limbs and orifices?” while Harry and the three versions of Hermione went at it. “Godric Gryffindor, this is Courtney,” Hermione said, introducing the pair. “Hello there, my pretty,” Gryffindor said with his ever-present deviant grin. “Did I hear you right when you said you’d try anything?” “Except scat,” the Auror said without shame. “Or anything that involves urine and/or vomit, as well.” “Have you ever heard of something called a ‘Train,’” the ghost said, draping his arm over Courtney’s shoulders, leading her out of the Head Boy and Girl’s chambers. Courtney cheered “I get to be the caboose.” With that, the ghost and the Auror left the Head Boy and Girl, discussing various positions, acts and household cleaners that doubled as good lubrication. “Did you introduce Courtney to Gryffindor so that you’d get him off of our backs?” asked Harry. “Of course,” Hermione replied. “I figured that Courtney and Draco could entertain Gryffindor for a while. Hopefully longer than Mrs. Black’s portrait did anyway.” “Good, because if you hadn’t introduced them, I was going to for the very same reason.” Hermione held up the glass ball containing the sexual energy collected from Courtney and Draco’s romp. “All we need to do now is tap into this with our ritual to help Snape in convincing Voldemort. Once the ritual is done and the effect is primed, we’ll have to send Snape a coded post telling both the plan and the activation of the delayed ritual.” Harry felt an icy lump drop in the pit of his stomach as Hermione began drawing runes in chalk on the floor. He gulped in dread at the thought of his looming task. The three-Hermiones from the night before had done a wonderful job of distracting him from his destiny (and just as importantly from the mental images of what Courtney was doing to Draco with a polyjuiced copy of ‘Harry, Jr.’ at that time). But now Hermione was getting ready to use the container of sexual energy to perform the special ritual - the one designed to induce Voldemort to be more viable and accepting of a suggestion, thereby entering their trap - the terrifying knowledge of the dire predicament Harry faced returned in full force. In a scant few days, Harry would have to face off against Voldemort, the most feared wizard of the age. SoG SoG SoG The following Wednesday, shortly after supper, Harry, Hermione, Ron and Luna were enjoying each other’s company in the Head Boy and Girl’s Chambers. The young wizards were playing a less than quiet game of Exploding Snap, while the witches were discussing potential rituals for future volumes of Books of Love Magic. “I thought up a delicious new one last night. It’s not a ritual per se, but I think it will be very well received regardless,” Luna announced. “I call it ‘Dramamine for Magical Folk.’ You know how some people absolutely loathe traveling by Floo, Portkey or Apparation? Well, I thought of something that will help ease their minds: oral sex. They get fellatio or cunnilingus right before they travel!” Harry pondered over Luna’s idea. He counted himself as one of the people who did not like traveling through magical means: the spinning of Floo, the hook and tug of Portkey, and the squeezing through a rubber hose of Apparation always made him queasy... and fall down. He reckoned receiving a blow-job right before he used any of these methods would in fact ease his mind. He realized that it wouldn’t prevent him from falling down; he just wouldn’t care if he did. Blow-jobs had that effect on a bloke. “Sounds like a good idea,” he said while Ron nodded his head in approval. “The only reason you it is like because you’d agree to anything if it meant you got more blow-jobs,” Hermione said with a snort. After a moment of contemplation, the raven-haired wizard replied; “Yeah, I would.” Ron nodded his head in agreement, again. The brunette mused for a moment before saying, “Perhaps we could have a section in the next book on various non-magical acts.” She chewed her lip, clearly deep in thought, before adding, “Thinking along the lines of Luna’s suggestion, maybe for long distance Floo travel, a couple could perform oral sex during their extended trip.” “And we could call it ‘Floo Head,’” suggested Harry. “That’s the spirit!” cheered Luna as Harry’s mind wandered to the glorious image of Hermione on her knees before him as the two spun from one fireplace to another just as his lover had described. Returning to the subject of actual rituals, Hermione said “I came up with a new ritual last night. It’s an Anti-Fire Ward.” “Didn’t we make one for the last book?” asked Ron. “Yes, but you can never be too safe when it comes to fire danger,” Hermione replied. “Like the previous Anti-Fire Ward, this one will protect the home from fire, whether caused by nature, accident or attack. But, unlike the first ward, this one needs to be performed by two couples.” “A foursome! Oh, Hermione, I thought you’d never agree!” Luna said exuberantly. She clapped her hands rhythmically, chanting, “Partner swap! We finally get to partner swap! Harry, get over here right now and give me some of that Parsletongue love!” Hermione blanched. Harry suppressed a chuckle over his girlfriend’s reaction - she wasn’t upset over the notion that Luna had just made overt sexual advances on her boyfriend, but rather if they were to partner swap, then she would have to be with Ron. And the mere thought of being intimate with the orangutan-like wizard made the brunette queasy. “No, no, no, no, Good Heavens, no,” Hermione said rapidly, keeping her line of sight as far away from Ron as possible. “The ritual I created requires that Harry paddle me while I’m gagged with a red-rubber ball and tied up with red scarves, while you sit on a chair nearby and Ron masturbates into your hair.” “Oh, poo,” moaned Luna. “I really want a foursome.” “That’s not going to happen. Ever,” Hermione said, evenly. “The red of the ball-gag and scarves represent fire. Harry’s paddle represents a punishment of that fire. And Ron’s semen will represent a liquid based fire-retardant,” explained Hermione. “Once I orgasm, the ward will activate and the home will be protected from fire.” “What would I do during this ritual?” asked Luna. “You don’t have to do a thing. You just sit there while Ron wanks himself in your hair,” replied Hermione. “That’s rather dull isn’t it? Can’t I give him head or lend a hand in his wanking?” “No, I’m sorry. According to my calculations, Ron must be the only one to touch himself for this ritual to work properly.” “Curses,” Luna pouted. “Maybe we can change it so Ron doesn’t have to wank in your hair?” offered Harry. “No, that’s not the problem. I don’t mind my Ronald masturbating on me - he does it all the time and I’ve grown quite fond of it. But if I am just to sit there, I wouldn’t feel that I’m participating in the ritual. No different than a Brooding Craft Snark so to speak. And as everyone knows; a Brooding Craft Snark does absolutely nothing.” “Can she read something?” Harry asked Hermione. “Would that affect the
ritual?” “Oh, that’s brilliant Harry! I can read German poetry aloud while Ronald masturbates into my hair!” cheered Luna. “You know German?” he asked. “Not a lick,” Luna said, still jubilant over the notion. “I just like how the guttural sound of the language makes my throat and tongue tickle.” Just then, a large owl with shinny, gleaming silver wings flew in through the open window. “What a beautiful owl,” Hermione said, eyeing the now-perched bird. “It’s called a Segue Owl,” informed Luna. “Segue? Why is it called that?” “I don’t know,” the blonde replied dreamily. “But it’s got a post attached to its leg.” “It must be Snape’s reply!” Harry said, quickly picking up on the new subject. Dashing up to the exotic bird, Harry untied the post attached to its leg. After delivering the message, the silver owl flapped its wings and flew back out the window. “Let me decode it,” Hermione said. Several minutes later, the brunette read the decrypted post aloud. “‘Even though I believe your plan to be flawed and recklessly dangerous, it remains, unfortunately, the best chance at defeating the Dark Lord. I have used my superior logic and cunning to convince the Dark Lord to attack Hogwarts by entering through the Chamber of Secrets as you suggested. My skilful approach was able to persuade the Dark Lord that this was his opportune means to devastate the wizarding population and to get rid of Potter, whom for some reason He views as a threat. “‘The Dark Lord was uncharacteristically keen - I might even argue that he was exuberant - over my persuasive urgings of the notion of attacking the castle. Personally, I think that the Dark Lord’s excessive reaction to my subtle skill is that He is still despondent over his loss of Bellatrix to her current insensate state. However, I did follow your inane instructions in that prior to approaching the Dark Lord, I did the proscribed insipid wand waving and intonation. But the truth of the matter is that my methods are what worked here. Not some schoolgirl’s imaginary ritual.’ “My ritual worked! It helped Snape convince Voldemort,” cheered Hermione before she read the conclusion of Snape’s post. “‘Unfortunately, the Dark Lord is so excited over the plan that He has decided to launch the attack against the castle as soon as possible. He, along with myself and his remaining handful of minions, will Portkey into the Chamber of Secrets Thursday night shortly after Ten PM.’” “Thursday!” exclaimed Ron. “But that’s tomorrow! He can’t attack tomorrow! That’s too bloody soon!” “Doesn’t matter, we’ll have to deal with it,” Harry said, dismissing the dread that gnawed at his belly like a pack of rats on a piece of moldy cheese. “I’ll talk to the House-Elves so that they can start evacuating people right away,” said Hermione. “No, we should wait as long as possible - perhaps after supper tomorrow,” he said. “If we start emptying the castle too soon, Voldemort will definitely hear about it and will scrub his plans to attack. We’ll have to do it late tomorrow evening, no earlier than eight, maybe even after nine or so. That way there’ll be less of a chance of Voldemort discovering that it’s a trap.” “What do we do until then?” asked Ron, nervously. “I dunno, try and relax,” Harry said, doubting that such a thing was possible. The gravity of his impending destiny lay on his mind like a heavy lead weight. Even the thought of relaxing in light of this seemed like an alien concept. “Let’s go back to our room, Ronald,” Luna said, taking her husband’s hand in hers. They left the Head Boy and Girl’s chambers without another word. “I think I’m going to get sick,” Harry announced. “It’s a good plan,” Hermione said, wrapping her arms around him. “It will work.” He could hear the warble in her voice and her fear was a palpable thing. It was clear that even though Hermione was confident, she was terrified of the pending showdown. Harry returned the embrace, silently telling his lover that he, too, was afraid. The two held onto each other, sharing in their fear in silence for a good long time. Needing to feel alive and loved, Harry took Hermione’s face into his hands and kissed her. A few moments later, the young lovers were in their bed. There was no kinkiness this night; no spankings, nor dirty talk, just love. They looked into each other’s eyes, deep down into their souls as they made love. All of their fear and doubt had washed away, at least for the time being, in the light of their feelings for one another. There was, of course, oral sex. Harry and Hermione had become masters at cunnilingus and fellatio, respectively, and to not use these skills would have been a crying shame. SoG SoG SoG Harry thought he was doing quite well. By the time supper had arrived the next night, he had vomited only three times. This was a point of pride for the young wizard; in a few short hours he was going to face-off against the most fear dark wizard of his time and to be physically ill three times showed just how truly brave the young wizard was. Of course his hands trembled like a leaf in a storm, but that was excusable. Oddly, even though Harry was the one destined to face-off against Voldemort, he was fairing better than his lover and friends. Hermione, Ron and Luna were complete wrecks. Hermione attempted to put up a brave face, but every half hour or so the thought of Harry confronting Voldemort would shattered her resolve and send the brunette witch into hysterical tears. Luna’s eyes were red from crying all day long whereas Ron was as white as a sheet. The red-head was so nervous that he had not eaten a bite all day long. And seeing how his stomach was a bottomless pit, this was very telling. After supper that night, Harry, Hermione, Luna and Ron waited in the Head Boy and Girl’s Chamber for the clock to reach nine, when they would start evacuating the castle. Harry went over the plan in his head and suddenly found a slight flaw. “Oh, bugger.” “What is it?” Hermione, who was as nervous as a long-tail kneazle in a room full of rocking chairs, asked. “We’re luring Voldemort into a trap in the Chamber,” Harry began as a chill descended upon his body. “What’s to stop him from escaping by Apparation or Portkey out of the Chamber before the trap is sprung?” “If Snape destroys You Know Who’s Portkey as planned and you destroy the Horcrux quickly, he won’t have time to create another Portkey,” offered Luna with a noticeable warble trying to take a small bit of confidence from the rock-solid plan. “And the school’s Anti-Apparation wards will stop them from Apparating,” Ron added just as nervously. “Oh, bugger,” cursed Hermione and her face fell. “The Anti-Apparation Ward was created in the mid-1800’s. When they set up these wards around the school, they didn’t know the location of the Chamber - they probably didn’t even believe it truly existed. The Ward doesn’t extend past the dungeons - it says so in Hogwarts: a History. That means they don’t cover the Chamber!” “That’s what I was worried about,” said Harry. “And knowing Voldemort, there’s a very good chance that he’ll probably have an extra Portkey hidden on his person just in case something goes wrong.” “Why didn’t I think of this before?” wailed Hermione. “Oh, I think I just peed myself,” mumbled Luna. The small bit of confidence she had shattered. “This isn’t good,” Ron said with a squeak. “Maybe... maybe we can erect Anti-Portkey and Anti-Apparation Wards before they get here?” Luna’s tone implied that she knew her logic was flawed but she was desperately attempting to salvage the plan. “If we do that, then they won’t be able to Portkey into the Chamber and the trap won’t work,” Hermione pointed out. “Maybe we could create the Anti-Portkey Ward after they show up,” suggested Ron, hoping to be helpful. “Then I won’t be able to escape!” Harry’s record of vomiting only three times was about to increase by one. Harry saw the tiny figure of Dobby shuffle out of the shadows. “Pardon Dobby, Harry Potter, sir, but’s perhaps Dobby can’s be helping.” “How much have you heard, Dobby?” asked Harry. “Enough’s to know you’s be wanting He Who Must Not Be Named to be coming into the Chamber of Secrets and you’s wants to be escaping from’s it buts you’s wants to keep He Who Must Not Be Named to be coming out’s.” “That’s pretty much the gist of it,” Harry said. “Dobby be knowing of a spells that the Ministree be using in Azkaban calling the Prison Ward. It’s be allowing people’s to enter by Apparation or’s Portkeys but they can’t be leaving if’s the ward doesn’t want’s them to. It only let’s one wizard or witch to be creating Portkeys that can leave’s through the Prison Ward. No one
’s else’s Portkey will be working and they’s can’t be Apparating out either’s,” the House-Elf explained. “There’s a spell that can allow people to enter an area magically but won’t let them leave if they don’t have a Portkey that isn’t made by the one person the ward recognizes,” Hermione clarified excitedly. “That’s wonderful! Do you know how to cast it, Dobby?” “Normally’s, House-Elves not be knowing of such spelles, for House-Elves travel different from wizards and witches - we’s don’t be needing to know such things like the Prison Ward because wes House-Elves cans move through it likes other Anti-Apparation and Anti-Portkey wards,” Dobby explained. The House-Elf’s ears lowered and he wrung his hands guiltily before continuing. “But’s Dobby’s former bad Master, Lucy, made Dobby learns how to be casting the Prison Ward to keep Master Lucy’ special lady friend’s of the evening from escaping’s. Once Dobby be done casting the ward, Master Lucy be’s the only one’s making Portkeys so’s that Master Lucy’s special lady friend’s of the evening did’s their duty’s.” Dobby then added in an undertone, much like a child repeating a curse; “Mistress Narcy called Master Lucy’s special lady friend’s of the evening ‘nothing but dirty wars.’” “Dobby, can you cast this Prison Ward around the Chamber of Secrets and make it so that I’m the only one able to create a working Portkey?” asked Harry. Dobby ears perked up and he nodded his head vigorously. The thought of aiding the Great Harry Potter sent the House-Elf to the heights of ecstasy. With tears of joy bubbling up in his eyes, he choked out; “Dobby thinks Dobby just peed himself.” “It does have a nice warming effect, don’t you think?” Luna asked in her usual detached fashion. ”Dobby will cast the Prison Ward on the Chamber once Dobby changes Dobby’s trousers!” The House-Elf vanished with a pop. Harry announced, “All right then, lets get this over with. You three go talk with the other House-Elves so they can get everyone out of the castle. I’ll go talk to McGonagall; as Headmistress, she deserves to know what’s going to happen.” Harry marched out of his chambers and toward the Headmistress’ office. Being Head Boy, Harry knew the password, allowing him entrance passed the stone gargoyle. He knocked on McGonagall’s door and asked; “Professor, can I have a word with you?” “Certainly, Mr. Potter. Come in,” she replied. When he entered, the witch inquired, “What is it that you’d like to discuss?’ Eyeing the portraits of the former Headmasters and Mistresses suspiciously, Harry said, “Could you order the portraits not to tell anyone - anyone at all - what I’m about to tell you?” Clearly sensing his serious tone, McGonagall said to the paintings; “As current Headmistress of Hogwarts, I order that none of you shall, for any reason, speak a word of what will be said between me and Harry Potter until I release you from this command. Is that understood?” All but Phineas Nigellus immediately voiced their vehement agreement. Sirius’ ancestor did agree not to repeat anything he heard, however his tone clearly told Harry that he was annoyed and put out by this order. Pacing back and forth before McGonagall’s desk, Harry told her everything. He started out by telling her of the prophesy made before he was born that linked his and Voldemort’s destinies, and how that he was their only hope of defeating the evil wizard. He informed the Headmistress of Voldemort’s Horcruxes and the search and destruction of them. Harry finished by telling her that he had a plan that would not only destroy the last Horcrux but also defeat Voldemort without even dueling the most feared wizard of his time. The Headmistress sat in stunned silence for nearly a full minute until she finally asked, “Couldn’t you create a magical brace, or even another column to replace the one you have to destroy in order to save the school?” “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I really, really don’t want to duel Voldemort,” admitted Harry. “Even though I’m strong because of power rituals, Voldemort’s still has decades more experience over me. He knows, and can do, things I can’t even imagine. If I duel him, I’m a dead man. And since, according to the prophesy, I’m the only person who has any chance of defeating him - if I die, no one can stop him. “I love this school, it’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a home,” he explained. “But Voldemort is too much of a threat. Who knows how many people he will hurt and kill if he lives? If I can end Voldemort, I can save lives. But there’s no way I can beat him in a one-on-one fight - I’d be killed in seconds. If I destroy the Chamber of Secrets with him in it, then I’ll have ended his threat and saved countless lives. The only chance I have against him, the only chance anyone has, is if I destroy the school.” McGonagall worried her lip, clearly weighing the school against saving lives. Obviously, the castle lost this debate. “Once Voldemort is gone, we’ll have to rebuild the castle.” “Of course, ma’am.” A soft pop announced Winky’s, the House-Elf, arrival in the Headmistress’ office. “It be time for Winky to be taking Heady Mack-gone-all to secret hiding place.” “What? Now?” she asked stunned. “It’s happening tonight?” “Sorry, I forgot to mention that,” muttered Harry guiltily. “Can I at least walk the halls one last time before everything is destroyed?” requested the Headmistress. “No’s, the Chosen One be wanting everybodies not One of the Mark outs of the castle right now,” Winky said, bolstered by her duty to Hermione. Before McGonagall could utter another word of protest, the House-Elf took her hand and the two disappeared with a pop. Ignoring the trembling in his knees, Harry made his way to Moaning Myrtle’s loo. Besides his shaking knees, Harry paid no attention to the little nagging voice in his head that informed him that the only person to fight Voldemort and survive in a real duel was Dumbledore. The voice continued by pointing out that the times Harry had faced Voldemort, he had escaped by sheer luck or chance. ‘It’s a good plan,’ he told himself, hoping to drown out the nagging voice in his head. ‘If I stick to the plan, then I won’t have to fight an incredibly skilled and sadistic dueler who can kill me with two words.’ “What are you doing here?” he asked when he found Hermione, Ron, Luna and Dobby waiting for him outside the second story bathroom. “I told the House-Elves to keep everyone in the cave and not to let anyone leave or send a message until after the castle falls, just in case any of them try and warn Voldemort or his followers,” Hermione, who had given up all pretense of hiding her fear, said. Tears were flowing freely down her sickly pale cheeks. The terrified warble in her voice reminded Harry of a sound that some kind of exotic bird living in the Rainforest might make. “That’s all well and good, but it doesn’t explain why you’re here,” he repeated. “All of you should be in that cave along with everybody else.” “We’re here to help you out,” Ron said. Like Hermione, Ron’s voice trembled and wavered, making him sound like an adolescent. “No, you are not,” he said firmly. “Harry, you need all the hel-” Hermione began to protest. “No, I need you as far away from this as possible,” he interrupted. “I cannot do this if I’m worried that you, any of you, might get caught in the crossfire.” “But Har-” began Ron. “But nothing. I have to get Snape out of there and I can’t worry about you at the same time!” The tone of Harry’s voice told everyone that his decision was final. “Fine then, we’ll wait for you outside Hagrid’s hut,” Hermione said. Like Harry, the tone of her voice told everyone this was not a point to contest. “All right then, let’s get this over with,” Harry said. He marched up to Hermione and crushed his lips to hers. He took as much comfort and courage from that kiss as he could. “Come back to me,” she said when the kiss ended. Her eyes were shimmering with tears, fear, and hope. “I will,” he said, hoping that fate would not make a liar out of him. “Good luck,” said Ron, giving Harry a pat on the back. “I’ll see you soon, Harry,” Luna said and kissed him on the cheek. “Is the Prison Ward up?” he asked Dobby. “Yes, Harry Potter, sir.” Dobby, who, like Hermione, was crying openly, wailed “Please, lets Dobby stay by yours side, Harry Potter, sir. Please. Dobby cans help Harry Potter.” “No Dobby, I need you to keep an eye on my friends,” Harry said. “Make sure they stay safe for me.” With his lip quivering, the House-Elf replied “Yes, Harry Potter, sir. Dobby wills make sure.” Before stepping into the loo, Harry gave Hermione one last
look and a lopsided smile, hoping to show her that he was brave and confident so she wouldn’t have to worry so much. The moment the door closed and he was out of sight of his lover and friends, Harry let the facade drop. His face and shoulders fell and he leaned against the door. This was it: in a few moments’ time, Harry would open the entrance to the Chamber, slide down the tube, and face his destiny. ‘Stick to the plan,’ he repeated to himself. As he slowly walked to the faucet, those four words became a mantra. ‘Stick to the plan.’ The scenario played out in his head - Harry would make a Portkey, Voldemort and his minions would show up, Snape would run to Harry while Harry swung the Sword of Gryffindor at the pillar Horcrux, and then, as the roof collapsed, Harry and Snape would be whisked to safety via the Portkey. Simple and easy and difficult to muck up, the way all plans should be. ‘Stick to the Plan.’ He bent over the basin and spoke the word “open” in Parsletongue. The sink shrank away and a large hole appeared in the wall. Just before he stepped into the tube, Harry screwed up his courage. After sliding down the tube, Harry made his way to the main chamber. He was so afraid that his hands were like ice. He began to worry if this impediment would hamper his ability to hold onto the Sword much less swing it at the column properly. Upon entering the main, cavernous chamber, Harry eyed the Horcrux column and gulped down the burning bile that had been creeping up his throat. ‘Stick to the plan.’ He glanced at his watch. Nine forty-three. He had at least fifteen minutes before Voldemort and his minions were scheduled to arrive. Taking another deep breath, Harry conjured a long branch - slightly over four feet - leaned it against the Horcrux column, tapped it with his wand and incanted “Portus.” He wanted the Portkey as close as possible - he didn’t want to have to dive for it while the roof fell on top of his head. Now, he waited. Soon, he’d face Voldemort for the last time. One way or the other, it would be over tonight. If everything went according to plan, Harry and Snape would be safe and away while the so-called Dark Lord was crushed beneath tons of falling rock. He paced back and forth, rubbing his hands together, hoping to chase away the chill that had settled in them. His mind wandered to Hermione and his friends. Surely they had gotten out of the castle and to Hagrid’s hut by now. The very first thing he planned on doing after this was all over was to run up to Hermione, take her in his arms and lavish her with kisses. That is, if every thing went according to planned and he got out of the Chamber alive. Taking a calming breath, Harry repeated his mantra - this time aloud. “Stick to the plan.” Despite his confidence in the plan, his hands were still cold, bile still marched up his throat and his belly had clenched up into a tight little ball. Checking the time again, Harry’s stomach tightened even more. It was nine forty-six. Only three minutes had passed. “This is going to be the longest quarter hour of my life,” he mumbled to himself. He just hoped it wouldn’t be the last. Harry pulled out the Sword out of his robes. The heavy weight in his hands helped calm his nerves somewhat. The plan was sound. One swing of the Sword and it would be finished. The minutes ticked by at an agonizingly slow rate. At one point Harry had wondered if his watch had stopped working. But it was just his anxiety that made time seem to slow down. Then, with a series of loud whooshing sounds, over a dozen people appeared in the Chamber before Harry. At the front of this group was none other than Voldemort himself, flanked by Wormtail to his right and Snape to his left. Each of the new comers had a hold of a long length of rope, obviously the Portkey that had brought them here. “Potter, what are you doing here?” demanded Voldemort. He was by no means stupid - Harry’s presence was not a coincidence. And he was smart enough to spot a trap when he saw one. The villain quickly reached into his robes to draw his wand. Harry looked at Snape and shouted “NOW!” Not knowing of the new Prison Ward prohibiting any Portkey besides Harry’s from working, Snape stuck to his part of the plan. The Potions Master tapped his wand to the rope-Portkey and it flashed in flames, destroying it, before lunging forward while Harry swung the Sword with all of his might. Harry felt the blade slice through the stone of the column like a knife through butter, destroying the final Horcrux. Now that the main support column had been demolished, the whole chamber began to tremble instantly. As planned, Snape wrapped his hand around Harry’s arm as the young wizard pivoted to face the Portkey. Harry reached out... “CONFRINGO!” a cold, high voice shouted. One word and one phrase made up of a contraction and another word sprang up in Harry’s head. They were “Bollocks” and “I’m screwed.” The reason for this was that Voldemort had cast a Blasting Curse with the special Portkey as its target - that or he had aimed directly at either Snape or Harry and the trembling, shaking ground had thrown off his aim. Either way, the curse had turned Harry’s only means of escape into a shower of splinters. There was no time to create another Portkey - the whole castle would collapse and crush him in the time it would take to conjure a new item, enchant it into a Portkey, and then activate it. Harry and Snape were stuck. Massive chunks of the walls and ceiling started to break free and fall. Many Death Eaters scrambled, vainly trying to find cover. One Death Eater’s scream had been cut short when one bolder crushed him, turning him into a sticky jam. As the chamber collapsed around him, Harry took a small bit of solace in the knowledge that at least he had succeeded in ridding the world of Voldemort. A tugging sensation on the hem of his robes drew Harry’s attention. He looked down into the bright green, tennis ball sized eyes of Dobby. A triumphant smile stretched across Harry’s face. The Prison Ward did not affect House-Elf transportation. Dobby must’ve transported into the Chamber when Harry and Snape did not show up outside Hagrid’s hut once the castle began to fall. After taking Dobby’s hand in his, Harry glanced back at Voldemort. The fiend was reaching out to grab Wormtail’s silver hand. The next thing Harry knew, he, Snape and Dobby were standing just outside Hagrid’s hut. There was no unpleasant squeezing as in Apparation, no mad spinning as there was in Floo travel, and there was no uncomfortable hook behind the navel and tugging as there was in Portkey travel. One moment, he was in the crumbling Chamber, and the next, he was standing in a grassy field. “Wow, elf transport is a whole lot more enjoyable than any other magical transportation,” he said to himself. Remembering his vow to take Hermione in his arms, Harry spun around in order to find the witch he loved. As he turned, his eyes quickly surveyed the devastation caused by the falling of the castle. Centuries of dust had been thrown up into the air due to the ancient building’s collapse; this created a dense cloud that covered the ground and reach upwards, hundreds of feet. Even though he couldn’t see a thing, Harry assumed that the Astronomy Tower would have fallen by this time, and that the walls of the castle had begun their inevitable structural failure. Ignoring the castle and its fate, Harry continued to turn until he found the woman he loved. Tears of joy cascaded down her cheeks and he couldn’t wait to kiss them away. He had barely taken two steps when the joy in Hermione’s eyes drained in an instant, replaced by panic. Ron and Luna, who were standing on either side of the brunette witch, pointed over Harry’s shoulder with trembling hands. Harry turned to face where his friends were pointing and his stomach fell. There, standing with his black robes billowing in the wind, with the cloud of the collapsing castle behind him, holding Wormtail’s disembodied silver hand was Lord Voldemort. “I always have an escape plan, Potter,” Lord Voldemort said, with hate bubbling up in his cold voice. “Did you honestly think I’d give one of my lowly followers such a precious gift without ulterior motives?” He held up the metallic limb, clearly taking pride over his cunning. “It’s an emergency-transporter of my own design - it can mimic and follow the last form of any magical travel used within a twenty foot radius - and unlike most wizards, I am powerful enough to mimic even House-Elf magic. When I created my wondrous device in this specific form to quiet that sniveling pillock, Wormtail, I knew that it might come in ‘handy’ one day.” The fiend giggled at his own poor pun. “Now it’s time to deal with the traitor.” This was the only warning anyone got before Voldemort began firing curses. Snape grunted i
n pain as a massive gash was cut into him. The greasy haired wizard began to pitch forward, a fountain of blood and gore spraying from his side, just below his ribs. Harry dove at Snape. A yellow bolt of magic rocketed by Harry, missing him by fractions of an inch, as he grabbed Snape by the shoulders. “RUN!” shouted Harry to his friends. “GET BEHIND THE TREES!” While dragging Snape behind him, Harry bolted to the tree line a few feet away, bobbing and weaving as best as he could in order to dodge Voldemort’s attacks. Unburdened, Harry’s friends reached the trees a few seconds before he did. Hermione and Luna jumped behind the trunk of a massive oak while Ron and Dobby took shelter behind another. Grunting, Harry jumped and landed with a thud just as a curse blew a chunk out of a tree next to him. As Voldemort continued to fire off a rapid series of deadly hexes, he mocked; “You’ve only delayed the inevitable, Harry. After I kill you and your friends, I’ll rebuild my army and I will destroy everything you care about, boy.” Snape coughed. Dark red blood spewed from his mouth, spattering his lips and chin. One look told Harry that his former professor did not have much time life. The older wizard let out a shuttering breath and his eyes closed. Harry held the dying Potions Master in his arms. This was a difficult, messy task - not because of the wizard’s lifeblood flowing from his gaping wound that soiled Harry robes, rather the young wizard didn’t want Snape’s greasy hair to touch him. Harry knew that blood could come out of his clothing, but he doubted that whatever the substance in Snape's hair could ever be completely cleaned. As he awkwardly cradled Snape, Harry wondered what he should say to the wizard. Should he forgive the man for all of his misdeeds, for all the wrongs he had committed against Harry? An explosion shook the tree behind Harry. He could see Hermione and Luna a few feet away, holding onto one another in fear and support. Suddenly, Snape’s eyes snapped opened. Looking up at the boy he had persecuted for so long, Snape muttered; “I regret joining the Death Eaters.” A shuttering, rattling breath escaped his lungs. “I regret all the harm I caused through my deeds and actions. But most of all Potter, I regret not getting the chance to-” another spasming breath, “...wank to your mother’s memory just one last time.” As his mother’s stalker’s eye fluttered closed, Harry resisted the urge to drop the dying prick to the ground. Harry was, after all, the hero and heroes do not do such things - even to hated ponces who wanked over the memory of said hero’s mum. Then Snape’s eyes shot open one last time. He looked deeply into Harry’s brilliant green eyes and spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. “Potter, grant me this, my dying wish: pretend to be Lily, you have her eyes after all... and you can use my blood to dye your hair red like hers... and then... touch...m-” Thankfully, the fates interceded and took Snape to the Next Great Adventure before he could give voice to complete his final request. Of course, Harry had wished that they had taken the arsehole a few moments before, that way the young wizard would not have been scarred by what he had been asked to do. “I know this is wrong of me to say, but God I hated that prick,” Harry said, letting the still warm corpse slide to the ground with less dignity than a hero of his stature should have. “Well, at least he was in so much denial that he couldn’t see that he was truly attracted to your father and not your mother, as proof of his Patronus,” Hermione said from her nearby cover, having the misfortune to have overheard Snape’s dying words. “Otherwise, his last request could have been significantly more awkward.” Another blast from Voldemort shattered a tree trunk no more than five feet away from Harry. It was obvious that the villain was toying with his prey. “Yeah, that greasy bastard’s death was tragic and all, but what the bloody hell are we going to do now?” Ron demanded frantically. “Let’s make another Portkey and escape!” offered Luna, her eyes even wider than normal. “No, we don’t know if Voldemort could use Wormtail’s hand to follow us again,” Hermione said. “Besides, it has to end now,” Harry said. He stood and squared his shoulders, ready to face his destiny. He took one step from behind the tree with his wand already raised and prepared to fire a curse when the ground a foot in front of his feet exploded. The concussion of the blast threw Harry back, slamming him against another tree. With his head still spinning from the blow, he overheard Ron exclaim; “What about Harry’s power boosts? He could just lean around the tree and blast You Know Who to kingdom come.” “Dear, you’re forgetting that You Know Who’s has gone through his own power boosting rituals. And he’s got decades worth of fighting experience over Harry!” explained Luna. “Even if Harry had more power than him, You Know Who would still have enough skill to easily block and counter anything Harry threw at him!” Voldemort, still launching Blasting Hexes at Harry and his friends in a sadistically playful manner, called out “I don’t know how you found out about my Horcrux, but you’ve lost, Harry. You have only destroyed one of my Horcruxes! I have four more hidden where you’ll never find them!” He added bitterly, “I’d have five if Lucius wasn’t an idiot and lost my diary.” Harry quickly gestured to his friends to remain silent. He feared that if one of them let slip that they had in fact destroyed all of Voldemort’s Horcruxes, the dark wizard, who was terrified of his own mortality, would retreat and this opportunity to end Voldemort’s reign of death and terror would be lost. Suddenly, Harry saw something spark in Hermione’s eyes. She locked eyes with him and said, “Harry, I’m pregnant.” The young wizard looked at the witch he loved. Her eyes were full of dread, worry, doubt and something that made Harry believe she had done something terribly, terribly wrong. He assumed that she had forgotten to recast her Anti-Conception Charm and this was the cause for this odd expression. “I’m pregnant, Harry,” she repeated with the same look of worry, dread and odd guilt. “What? Do you expect some sort of congratulations from us?” Ron asked, piercingly. “Congratulations, Hermione,” Luna said earnestly. “I hope we live through this so I can throw you a baby shower.” The world faded away for Harry. His mind left Voldemort and the destruction around him and entered a world where Hermione was expecting. In his mind’s eye, Harry saw Hermione a few months from now, her belly large and round. He had his hands on her stomach, feeling the baby kick and move inside her womb. His mind flashed forward and he imagined holding his and Hermione’s baby a few moments after he or she was born. His mind raced, coming up with possible names for his child. Another explosion rocked the ground and violently drew Harry out of his daydream. He looked at Hermione. He had to stop Voldemort. Harry had to do it, for his family - for his and Hermione’s unborn child. As Harry stood, he focused on his love for Hermione and their child. A powerful golden light once again emanated from his body. Shimmering rays floated from his body and coiled and undulated like tendrils. “Not this again. Not the pure love thing,” moaned Ron. “It makes me feel funny! And I really don’t think now is a time to feel funny!” “Now’s the perfect time,” Harry said, stepping out from behind the trees. With the thought of his future family warming his heart and soul, Harry drew up his wand. “What’s this?” asked Voldemort, confused by the strange golden glow surrounding Harry. The knowledge that his child was growing in Hermione’s womb had allowed Harry to tap fully into his love core - more so than ever before. This incredible power coursed through him, making his body burn. He could feel his feet hovering an inch above the ground as he slowly walked toward his target. Overcoming his confusion, Voldemort launched a lethal cutting curse directly at Harry’s throat. The silver crescent of magic soared through the air and struck the glow encapsulating Harry with a reverberating clang. The curse shattered like crystal, leaving the young wizard unscathed. Voldemort’s red eyes burned with hatred. He raised his wand and his mouth opened, ready to spit out another incantation. Before any sound could leave his lips, one of the golden tendrils that extended from the glow surrounding Harry lashed out, slashing Voldemort across the hand. The villain cried out and recoiled. A dark burn mark smoldered where the tendril had touched his skin. Clutching his burnt hand to his chest, Voldemort hissed “I took your blood! The cursed blood protection shouldn’t harm me anymore!” “That’s n
ot the blood protection, that’s the power of love,” Harry said. Harry heard his best mate gripe, “If I wasn’t scared shiteless right now, I’d think that was the lamest thing I’ve ever heard one bloke say to another.” Harry eyed the damage to Voldemort’s hand. The pure power that emanated from his body hurt Voldemort. It was feasible that he could actually kill Voldemort with it. He just needed to focus the power somehow. A spell, perhaps, that would concentrate the pure love Harry felt and launched it at Voldemort. Harry smiled. He already knew a spell that concentrated pure emotions: the Patronus Charm. The Patronus was powered by pure happiness. If he could focus the love he felt into the charm, he could direct it at Voldemort. Hermione had actually theorized that he could use a Patronus as a weapon against Voldemort a few weeks previously. Of course, Ron had also theorized at the same time that Harry could defeat Voldemort with an Expelliarmus Charm, but Harry thought that Hermione’s theory had the support of logic and intelligence behind it. With the image of him sitting on a bed next to Hermione as he held their newborn baby, Harry pointed his wand at Voldemort and shouted, “EXPECTO PATRONUM!” His wand jerked in recoil as a giant, glimmering stag leapt from the tip of the weapon. It was larger and more brilliant than any Patronus Harry had ever conjured before. He could feel the pure love super-charge the energy in the stag. The magical animal’s hooves pounded silently on the ground as it charged, full-bore, at Voldemort. It lowered its head, pointing its sharp antlers at the fiend’s chest, and crashed into the snake-like wizard. The moment the stag struck Voldemort, the Patronus exploded and engulfed the dark wizard in flames. Voldemort reared his head back and screamed in utter agony. The flames swallowed him - the power of love literally burned the man who knew nothing but hate. Through the flames, Harry saw Voldemort’s flesh blacken and large chunks fall to the earth where they burned to ash. He also saw pure hate and anger in his foe’s red-eyes. Knowing this may be his final act, Voldemort focused all of his rage and hate on Harry. He leveled his wand at the black-haired wizard and screamed “AVADA KEDAVRA!” Just as the Patronus was the embodiment of pure joy, the Killing Curse was pure hate - to cast it properly, someone had to hate their target enough to kill them. And, just as Harry’s power sprang forth from his love, Voldemort’s came from hatred, giving the fiend a true knack for the Unforgivable. The green bolt blazed through the air, rocketing at Harry. It moved so rapidly, the young wizard did not have time to react. The dreaded curse hit its target. But, just as his mother’s pure love had shielded him from the Killing Curse when he was a toddler, the pure love that surrounded Harry right now had the same effect. Whereas Lily had sacrificed herself out of love and thereby shielded her son, Harry’s shield was powered by the thought of his family - Hermione and their child - and had the same power as Lily’s sacrifice. The green beam of magic struck the golden shield and rebounded upon its caster, just as it had over fifteen years before. The power of the rebounded Killing Curse combined with the magical fire which had engulfed him turned Voldemort into a pile of soot in an instant. Harry stared at the smoldering pile of ashes that used to be the monster who murdered his family and hunted him his whole life. As he watched the smoke rise up into the air, Harry realized that this pile that used to be Voldemort had done far more than kill his family - he had terrorized an entire society for a generation. He had murdered, tortured and maimed countless people. And now he was gone. He wouldn’t be coming back like he had done previously. Voldemort was truly and completely dead this time, thanks to Harry’s success in finding and destroying all of Voldemort’s Horcruxes. Harry continued to stare at the ashes for a full minute, letting the awe of his victory wash over him, before shouting “I WON! I BLOODY EFFING WON!” Hermione was the first to rush out from her protective cover. She leapt at Harry and threw her arms around his neck, sobbing in joy that he lover was alive. Ron, Luna and Dobby quickly joined the embrace with the red-head shouting “You did it! You bloody did it!” over and over. Suddenly, every single member of the Order of the Phoenix appeared around Harry and his friends, each one holding onto various objects that had obviously been turned into Portkeys. McGonagall rushed forward and said “The moment Hogwarts fell, the House-Elves let us go and I Apparated to Grimmauld Place and activated the emergency beacon!” “We all popped over and Minerva told us what was going on. We got here as quickly as we could,” added Tonks. “Where are they?” demanded Mad-Eye Moody, ready - and eager - to hex someone. “Where are the Death Eaters and You Know Who?” Hermione, Ron, Luna and Dobby looked to Harry. Each one assumed that since Harry was the hero of the hour, it was his right to tell everyone of the defeat of the most feared wizard of their time. With a joyous smile splitting his face cleanly in two, Harry cried out “I’M GOING TO BE A DADDY!” Hermione let go of Harry and instantly began wringing her hands. Harry was too delirious over the joy he felt to notice this small, but guilty action. “Really? That’s fantastic!” Arthur Weasley said with naked excitement. “Oh, what wonderful news!” added Molly Weasley, looking at Hermione questioningly. “Yeah, yeah, congratulations,” Moody said dismissively. “Now where’s the Death Eater Scum?” The old Auror was clearly aching to hex someone. “They’re all dead!” announced Ron. “What about Voldemort?” asked Remus Lupin. “Erm, you’re stepping in him, Professor Lupin,” Luna replied, pointing at the pile of soot and ash around Remus’ feet. “It’s over?” Tonks asked. “He’s finally dead?” “Yeah, and he’s not coming back this time!” cheered Ron. “This calls for a celebration!” cried Kingsley Shacklebolt. “I’m going to be a dad!” repeated Harry. This news was obviously far more important to him than Voldemort’s defeat. “I think this calls for a double celebration!” Arthur said, bristling with pride. “For the defeat of You Know Who, and to celebrate Harry and Hermione’s joyous news!” Harry felt a tear roll down his cheek while Hermione began to chew on her lower lip almost frantically. “Let’s go to the Three Broomsticks and break open a case of Fire-Whiskey!” announced Remus as he gave Harry a congratulatory pat on the back. “So Harry, who’s going to be the godfather of your baby?” he asked, hoping to be the one the young wizard had in mind. “Not gonna happen, Remus, that job’s going to his best mate, yours truly,” Ron said, thumbing himself in the chest as nearly everyone standing outside Hagrid’s hut began making their way to the School’s gates. “I can’ wait till I get to take yer kid on his firs’ year boat ride ta the castle,” Hagrid said to Harry with happy tears flowing freely. “’Course we’ll have ta rebuild tha’ castle.” Harry let his friends congratulate him and offer name suggestions for his baby as they walked out of the gates and down into the streets of Hogsmede. Meanwhile... Just outside Hagrid’s hut, Hermione stood, wringing her hands and worrying her lip madly. She stared, wide-eyed, at some unknown point far off in the distance. The only other people with her, Molly Weasley and Tonks, stood a few feet away from the distraught witch, conferring beneath their breath to one another. After a moment of discussion, Molly jotted a note down on a piece of parchment. Then the two walked up to the brunette witch. “Hermione dear, do you have something to tell us?” asked Molly. “I’m a horrible, horrible person,” Hermione wailed. “You’re not horrible,” Tonks consoled her. “But I lied to Harry. I lied to him in the most horrific way!” Even though Hermione had lied to Harry in order for him to fully access his power to defeat Voldemort, she felt as if she was lower than the lowest animal. “It doesn’t have to be a lie,” offered Molly. “Just a delay in the truth,” added Tonks. “What do you mean?” “Here,” Molly said, handing Hermione the note. “The first is a spell that cancels out all anti-conception charms. The other is a charm that will help you ovulate.” “Mind you it’s not as good as the Prewitt Ritual you and Harry accidentally tricked me and Remus into performing,” Tonks commented, “but I think Harry might get a little suspicious if you pop the baby out in a couple of weeks like I did.” “Now, you perform these two charms and ride Harry like a pony,” Molly said with a smile. Both Tonks and Hermione looked at the Weasley matron in surprise. “Oh
please, you don’t get to have seven children by being chaste. “As I was saying, you have your way with Harry - which I’m sure he won’t mind in the slightest - every day and night until you change that lie into a ‘delayed truth,’ as Tonks called it,” concluded Molly “Basically, shag him until you really do get knocked up,” clarified Tonks. “Nymphadora Tonks,” Molly said, scathingly. “What? You used the term ‘ride Harry like a pony’ and you’re mad at me?” defended Tonks. “I’m upset that you used such a foul word,” the red-head said. She smiled at Hermione and added with a happy lilt, “Didn’t you know it’s improper to curse in front of a mother-to-be?’ Hermione looked at the charms Molly and Tonks had given her before saying, “Or at least a mother-to-be-shortly.” Epilogue: Look everybody! It’s an epilogue! Nineteen Years Later... Wait... what? Nineteen? Why nineteen? Don’t these things happen in even amounts of years like “two,” “ten,” or “twenty”? Or even increments of five years? Why would I go against convention and use an odd number like nineteen? “Oh, look at me; I’m such a rebel. I place my epilogue nineteen years into the future! I’m such a trend setter.” Who am I to go against convention? Fifteen years later... No matter how many times Harry saw the “new” Hogwarts, the wizard’s chest would puff up with well-earned pride. Not only had he co-created the unique ritual to rebuild the ruined castle with Hermione thirteen years before, but he and his wife had been one of the dozens of couples that had performed said sex-ritual. He could still remember the scores of two-person tents (and a three-person tent for Seamus, Lavender and Parvati) that circled the ruins and the non-stop peals of pleasure and wet squelching noises that filled the night as the stones flew through the air and rebuilt the ancient castle. It looked exactly the way it did before it fell. Well, not exactly. The Astronomy Tower was significantly taller and thicker than it had been. Also, it had a peculiar, yet pleasing curve to it. And most people described the parapet as being “crown” shaped. Hermione believed that the sex-ritual that recreated the castle had inadvertently altered this particular part of the building. In fact, a few muggleborns had stated that the tower now appeared to be a copy of the notorious tower that had been featured in the original poster art for Disney’s “The Little Mermaid.” The thick, creeping vines that crisscrossed the Tower only aided in this comparison. Another side effect of the sex-ritual that had rebuilt Hogwarts meant the castle and its wards now fed off of any sex act. Seeing that the castle was chockfull of hormonal teenagers wanking, snogging, performing hand-jobs and oral sex, and outright fornicating every single day, the new castle literally throbbed with power. Throbbed. As he and Hermione walked up the hill to the castle, Harry could actually see the building pulsate - and throb - particularly the new Astronomy Tower. Just before the married couple walked through the giant doors of Hogwarts, Harry noticed the black-lace choker around his wife’s neck. The choker was just part of a garment Hermione had donned this morning. The costume was normally used for when the couple would act out a rather fun role-playing game where Hermione was a bad maid who had not dusted properly and therefore deserved a “punishment” from Harry. Today, the punishment hadn’t been for improper dusting, but for a cruel, teasing joke the brunette had played. Harry made a polite coughing sound to attract her attention and pointed at his own neck. “Oh my, we don’t want to lose this one,” the brunette said instantly realizing what Harry’s gesture meant. She carefully removed the choker and tucked it away in her robe pocket. “Risqué Maid” was one of her most favorite games after-all. As they entered the castle, the sound of hundreds and hundreds of students talking and rushing to class nearly overpowered them. The years that followed the fall of the first Hogwarts Castle and Voldemort’s defeat saw the wizarding population of Britain increase significantly. Year after year the birth rate had shattered the previous year’s record setting number. This massive and continual spike in the population was due to the age of peace that the wizards and witches now experienced thanks to Voldemort’s demise. Or at least that is what the history books claimed. The real reason that the birth rate was rising rapidly each year was due to the fact that every witch and wizard were having copious amounts of sex. And this was directly correlated to the wildly popular Books of Love Magic and its ten volumes (so far). The highest seller to date was Volume Six: Pregnancy and You which had a four month pregnant (with James) “Mona Puckle” and sixth month pregnant (with the twins Harry and Harriet) “Perky ‘The Jugs’ Weatherby” with their respective husbands performing rituals designed to aid in various stages of pregnancy and childbirth, as well as recipes for balms and salves that made stretch marks disappear and physical exercises that helped fight various sagging bits on both partners. “It looks like they’re going to have to add another wing to the castle just to house the ever-growing student body,” commented Hermione as the couple pushed through the throng of students. The school’s population had tripled twice over since they had taken their NEWTS. “Maybe we can come up with another ritual to do just that?” suggested Harry, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. “I mean it’s not like we haven’t invested ourselves to the castle before.” “I’ll work on it tonight,” she said, looking forward to the practice. Trial and error was so much fun when orgasms were included. The couple made their way to the Hospital Ward where Luna Weasley worked. Thanks to her share of the book profits, the blonde and her husband were reasonably wealthy and didn’t need to work. She did however take the position of Hogwarts’ nurse in order to be close to her children. And Ron took up the position of nurse’s aide for the same reasons - that and easy access to the mid-afternoon shags he had grown to love. As for Harry and Hermione, they too were able to live just as comfortably thanks to their shares of book sales and found things to do in their spare time: Harry was content to be what Muggles called a “Stay-at-Home-Dad” while Hermione, who did more than her fair share in raising their children, spent some of her free time trying to live up to her title of the “Chosen One” by striving to give House-Elves equal rights. So far, the best she had been able to accomplish is a Ministry standard three sickle yearly salary and two days off a month. Even though Hermione thought this was unacceptable, the House-Elves were ecstatic over their new freedom. They were so overjoyed by their Savior’s accomplishment that they created over a dozen holidays where they showered the Chosen One with praise and gifts. Ironically enough, these gifts the House-Elves gave her were hand-knitted hats that were strikingly similar to the ones she herself had made in her fifth year in a misguided attempt to free the tiny creatures. One room in their home, the Shrieking Shack (which was still a grandiose mansion on the inside thanks to Harry’s accidentally bout of magic when the couple had first made love), was used strictly to house the thousands upon thousands of hats she had received over the years. Harry and Hermione found their best friends putting away supplies upon entering the Hospital Ward. “’Lo, Hermione, Harry, what brings you here?” asked Ron as he helped his wife stock the shelves with ointments, salves and various potions. Before either could answer, fifteen year old Sirius Lupin, Remus and Tonks’ eldest son, pushed his way into the Ward. He held a blood-soaked cloth to his head. “What’s the matter, Sirius?” Luna asked. “Erm... uh...I... er... bumped my head,” he answered lamely. Unlike his father, Sirius was a horrible liar. This un-Marauder like-setback did not stop the young wizard from committing acts of mischief and mayhem. “Did you happen to bump your head because you were up to no good with the twins?” asked Luna. “Which ones?” the young boy asked Luna in return. It was clear that Sirius was attempting to distract the adults in the room. “Your twins or Aunt Hermione and Uncle Harry’s twins?” Knowing that the fifteen year old boy was trying to protect his best friend and obvious cohort with this distraction, Harry asked, “So it was Hyphen then?” “Yes, Uncle Harry,” Sirius admitted. “We were pranking some Slytherins and I tripped when we made our escape. Hit my head on the steps leading out of the dungeons.” “And I take it our daughter’s in her dorm room right now devising an alibi for the two of you?�
�� asked Hermione. “Yes,” he replied. Harry smiled to himself, imagining Hyphen’s brilliant green eyes sparkling mischievously behind her spectacles, twirling one of her long strands of black, kinky hair which she tended to do when she was up to no good. A part of him was glad to see his fourteen year-old daughter giving Slytherins hell. Of course he’d never mention this to Hermione who always scolded Hyphen and their other children for not supporting Inter-House unity. Luna gingerly pulled the boy’s hand from his head and said, “Just a scratch and a mild concussion - nothing that a few waves from a wand and a potion won’t fix.” Once Sirius was healed, Luna shooed the “miracle-boy” away. Like his godfather, Harry, Sirius Lupin had earned an unwanted moniker. The first full moon after his fifth birthday, Sirius changed into a werewolf, just as everyone feared. He had unfortunately inherited the condition from his father. However, Sirius also inherited his mother’s Metamorphmagus abilities. The next full moon, Sirius did not change, much to everyone’s surprise. After a bit of study, it was discovered that after his first painful transformation into a wolf, Sirius unconsciously used his Metamorphmagus ability to cancel out his werewolf transformation. Using this knowledge, several Potion Masters created a cure for Lycanthropy based off of Sirius’ unique ability. Thus, he was heralded as the “miracle-boy.” Once the four adults were alone, Hermione announced, “I have news,” the brunette was glowing with happiness. “Guess whose expecting again?” “Another one?” asked Ron disbelievingly. “You know Harry, ever since he found out I told that little fib, he thinks that I shouldn’t be without child for more than a year at a time.” After their third child was born, Harry sat down and did the math, so to speak. Their first child, Lily-Fiona Granger-Potter - affectionately called “Hyphen” - was born a little more than nine months and one week after Hermione told him she was pregnant that fateful day. Harry knew Hyphen wasn’t late and doubted that their daughter had already been conceived the day Hermione announced her pregnancy. When confronted, Hermione confessed to her “delay in the truth.” In retrospect, Harry should have known it was a lie - Hermione was an absolute pathetic liar after all. In his defense, he had accepted his future wife’s claim simply because he didn’t think she could have ever lied about something so important, especially when their lives were in mortal peril at the time. Even though the lie was for the greater good, allowing Harry to tap completely into his love-core and therefore defeat Voldemort, the wizard was justifiably upset when Hermione confessed. After a long, drawn out argument, and as a form of “penance,” Hermione baked Harry a pie (or rather, she asked Dobby - their employed house-elf - to bake Harry a pie) and then performed fellatio on her husband while he enjoyed his pastry treat. This led to the two shagging on the kitchen table while their three kids took their afternoon kip, which led to Hermione becoming pregnant again with the twins Eric and Lacy. It quickly became a joke that Harry had knocked up Hermione on a regular basis as a form of punishment for her “delay in the truth.” This couldn’t be further from the truth - the couple had always intended on having a large family. “What will this make? Nine sprogs? Hell, I’m a Weasley and I don’t have that many,” the red head commented. “But you’re not living up to the Weasley name, are you? If Molly didn’t have so many grandchildren from your brothers and sister, I’m certain she’d berate you daily for only having four. Bill and Fleur have six. Fred and George each have five. Percy, with his five ex-wives, has a total of eight. Even Charlie, who’s gay, has seven kids. But Ginny and Neville are obviously trying to make up for your lack of children with their eleven,” Hermione pointed out. “That’s only because Neville and that enormous penis of his ejaculates directly into Ginny’s womb each time they make love,” Luna said. “They have to realize that no magical form of anti-conception will work with them.” “Yeah, let’s just hope he takes my advice and pulls out from now on,” Harry chuckled. “Or at least buy some Muggle-condoms.” “So, number nine, huh,” Ron said, returning to his friend’s happy news. “You’re going to run out of names you know.” “Well I suggested we name the baby after Snape,” Hermione said. She smiled at the scowl that marred her husband’s face. “I take it that didn’t go over well?” asked Luna. “No,” Harry said, flatly. “To say the least,” snorted Hermione. “After I used the Defebulator Charm to revive him and told him it was a joke, Harry gave me a sound paddling. Of course I was hoping for a spanking, so I think it worked out rather well for me.” “Were you two were playing ‘The Lady and the Pauper’ or ‘Snarky Schoolgirl’?” asked Ron. “No, it was the ‘Risqué Maid’ this time. In fact, the maid-choker’s in her pocket right now,” Harry replied. “And just to clarify; there’s no paddling in ‘The Lady and the Pauper’ scenario. You’re thinking of ‘King Harry and the Duchess of Canterbury’ ‘A Long, Cold Night in January’ or ‘The Babysitter’s Reward.’” “Ah, my mistake,” the red-head said with a smile. “I’ll try to keep them straight.” “And what did you do to celebrate the great news of another baby?” the blonde asked, already knowing the answer. “Another sound paddling,” Hermione said with a rosy bloom. Even though Luna could not see them to confirm, she was positive the bloom on her cheeks matched the ruby hue on the brunette's other set of cheeks thanks to two consecutive spanking sessions. “Well, we’ll just have to celebrate won’t we?” Ron said. “What should we celebrate? The fact that Hermione’s still a kinky witch or that she and Harry are going to have another child?” asked Luna playfully. “We can celebrate both as far as I’m concerned,” replied Harry, overjoyed to have another child on the way and deliriously happy that his wife was still so adventurous. “We’ve reserved a table at The Three Broomsticks for us and our kids,” Hermione said to her friends. “Great, we can say hi to Hannah Abbott,” said Ron. “No, Ronald, Hannah owns the Leaky Cauldron,” Luna corrected. “Katie Bell is the owner of The Three Broomsticks.” “That’s right. I don’t know why I get those two confused.” As the two couples left the Hospital Ward, Ron said with a guffaw; “Wow, the ten Potters and six Weasleys, that’s going to one big table.” “Ow,” exclaimed Harry suddenly. “What is it dear?” asked Hermione. “Some damn insect just bit my scar.” The End