5Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor


Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor
Chapter Five

Disclamer: Not mine, I own nothing. I’m not making any money
WARNING: Harsh Language, adult themes, sexual situations (i.e. smut), bad spelling and grammar.

Author’s Notes: This story is a broad farce with over the top humor (a good deal of it is crude and sexual) and OOC actions (that’s Out Of Character if you don’t know). Also, this is my first smut-ish fic. If you don’t like sex and sex-based humor, do NOT read this!

Chapter Five Summary: Things get revealed at the reception… along with Harry and Hermione’s relationship.

“Harry, what’s going on?” Hermione implored while tugging on Harry’s arm as he stomped over to the laughing duo of Remus and Tonks. “What did that old witch mean about a menu? And why are those two laughing?”

“Because HE…” Harry hissed and pointed an accusing finger at Lupin, “is a Marauder!”

“He… he…” stammered Hermione while looking between Harry and Remus. “He pranked us?” she asked of Harry. Before he could respond, she turned to Remus and asked, “You pranked us?”

“Guilty as charged,” confessed Remus in-between peals of laughter.

“You… You lousy prat!” Hermione shouted, her face twisted with rage. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

Harry was about to join Hermione in her tirade when he noticed her features soften. Her rage-filled expression transformed into the same look she had at the beginning of every class they shared. The look clearly showed her desire of learning something new.

“How did you do it?” pleaded Hermione.

“By discretely placing Confundus/ Charm/ on the two of you before we sat down,” Remus stated, finally controlling his laughter. Tonks, however, continued to laugh hysterically. In fact, Harry thought that she appeared to be on the edge of soiling herself.

“Oh Merlin that was brilliant!” declared Tonks. “Seeing how much goo Harry had on his face yesterday, you must squirt like a fountain Hermione!”

“Shut it, Tonks!” Hermione ordered and then turned her attention back to Remus. “But a Confundus doesn’t work that way-” Hermione began. Luckily for Harry’s sake, she did not see him silently nod affirmatively to Tonks’ comment. Hermione did in fact, squirt like a fountain.

“That’s why I applied Pilliwickle’s Theory to the charm,” informed Remus.

“That can’t be right, either. Pilliwickle’s Theory only relates to /Memory Charms/…” Hermione began to argue, but trailed off as she suddenly got a look on her face as if she was doing complex long division in her head. After a moment, she announced her understanding with a simple, “Oh, yes, that could work.”

Harry picked up Hermione’s dropped anger, “You still nearly gave us heart attacks!” He was still mad at his former DADA professor for the prank. Harry was also a little mad because he had no idea who Pilliwickle was nor any theory named for him so he felt left out of Hermione and Remus’ discussion which made him a touch bitter. “We thought everyone saw what we saw!”

“It was better than what Tonks had planned for you,” Remus defended himself, and Tonks abruptly stopped her riotous laughter. “She wanted to hook up a magical projector to a Pensieve and show everyone here in attendance just what it was that she saw yesterday morning.”

The two teens gasped at the mental image of a holographic rendition of themselves hovering over the reception party; their naked bodies intertwined for everyone to see. Harry realized that if Tonks had done just that, quite a large contingent of the wedding party would be shocked to say the least. He reckoned that the motherly Mrs. Weasley would faint, Ginny would more than likely sob, and Ron’s face would become red with rage. However, Harry imagined that Fred and George’s reaction would be more along the lines of “Nice form mate,” and “Didn’t you get a crick in you neck doing that?” Both Harry and Hermione turned their attention to Tonks. The eternally pink-haired Auror recoiled at the visible anger in the two teens’ eyes.

Harry and Hermione’s verbal assault on Tonks for her loathsome plan was prematurely aborted when a lanky red-head wizard stepped in Harry’s way and blithely said, “Hi, Harry!”

Ron, after greeting Harry, turned his attention to Hermione. Ron’s face got very red and a hopeful glint shined in his eyes. “Hello there, Hermione,” he greeted in what he assumed to be a seductive manner. Harry thought it would’ve been more seductive if Ron hadn’t stammered and even more so if his voice didn’t hitch and crack slightly.

Behind him, Harry could hear Hermione make a small “eep” noise out of panic. The bespectacled wizard forgot his anger toward Remus and Tonks as he looked at his two best friends. Ron, his best mate, was obviously very happy, for he was literally hopping in place as he looked at the brunette witch. Hermione, however, looked like she was on the verge of a stroke-inducing panic attack.

Harry remembered that Hermione wanted to be the one who told Ron about their newfound relationship, and that she said that she had an intricate plan on exactly what to say and how to tell him. She probably had even gone as far as to draw diagrams in her daily planner. But the look in Hermione’s eyes told Harry that not only did she forget what she had planned to tell Ron, but that she was about four steps beyond nervous, well into terror territory.

Hermione looked between Harry and Ron nervously, once, then twice, but on the third nervous glance, she spotted something in the distance. Harry followed her eyes to a small, furry, purple creature, sitting on a low wall near the house. It took Harry a moment to recognize it as Arnold, Ginny’s pet Pygmy Puff. Hermione tore her eyes away from Arnold to stare at Ron. A very long and silent moment later, Hermione looked back at Arnold and with a hint of panic in her voice, announced, “Oooh, look a tribble!” She then promptly scurried away like a frightened mouse toward Arnold, leaving Harry alone with Ron.

“What’s a tribble?” asked Ron, who looked a little perplexed but was still hopping in place like an idiot.

“It’s a Muggle thing,” Harry answered simply as he saw Hermione pet, in an almost frantic way, the brightly colored creature.

“Whatever. Anyway, you owe me, mate,” Ron declared as he playfully thumped Harry on the shoulder. Although the thump was less “playful” and more “painful”; apparently among many things in his life, Ron didn’t know his own strength.

“Owe you for what?” Harry asked as he rubbed his soon to be bruised shoulder.

“You owe me for interrupting a perfect moment,” began Ron. “When you Owled Hermione the other day asking her for help, I was about to ‘/dodge the second bludger/’, if you know what I mean.” Ron concluded this statement with a saucy wink. At that moment in time, Harry realized that he would be more than content if he never saw Ron give him a “saucy wink” ever again. It was even more disturbing having his best male friend give him a “saucy wink” than it was when McGonagall had given him the “saucy smile.”

“No,” Harry answered trying not to shudder at the inappropriate wink, “I don’t know what you mean. Not in the slightest.”

“You know…” Ron said impishly and made a rather rude hand gesture as if he was cupping a breast, either that or kneading dough — Harry wasn’t too certain.

“Oh,” Harry replied. He was stunned. He and Ron never spoke before about things like fondling boobs, especially Hermione’s boobs. Ron, being Ron and not noticing Harry’s stunned expression, walked over to the table where Tonks and Remus were at and sat down in Hermione’s vacant seat. As Ron picked up the purple pamphlet, he gestured for Harry to sit next to him.

“Beef stew, blood pudding, grilled heron, and spotted dick,” Ron stated clearly to the menu. After four plates with copious amounts of food piled on them appeared in front of Ron, he handed the pamphlet to Harry. “Eat up, Harry.”

Harry looked at the pamphlet once more. Unfortunately all he could see was the same practical joke that Remus had engineered. His eyes involuntarily focused on the phrase: “…/Ms. Granger is inclined to get very wet/ …”

“Ugh, I don’t care much for the heron at all,” Ron said as he pushed one of the plates away from him. “But I heard the trout’s supposed to be pretty good.”

“Oh, I know Harry likes red /snatch/-er, whoops slip of the /tongue,/” Tonks said with far too much emphasis on “/snatch/” and “/tongue/” and still had that damned devilish look in her eyes. “I meant to say ‘red snapper’.”

Harry groaned pitifully at Tonks’ crude behavior and Remus deftly changed subjects before Ron caught on. Of course, knowing Ron, the only way the red-haired wizard would catch on is if Harry explained Tonks’ statement by saying “Tonks caught me eating out your girlfriend.” He tends to be a bit slow you see.

“So Ron, what have you been doing with your holiday?” the not-so-former-Maurarder-because-he’s-still-pranking asked

“There’s not much to say,” Ron responded, “except for me and Hermione getting together.”

“What?” Remus and Tonks blurted in unison. They looked at Harry questioningly. Apparently, they didn’t know that Hermione and Ron had started dating around Dumbledore’s funeral (which, Harry thought unflatteringly, as everyone knows, is a great place to pick up birds). Nor did they know that Hermione soon realized that she and Ron had absolutely nothing in common, whereas she and Harry had a great deal in common. With a simple shrug of his shoulders, Harry tried to tell them this all, and more importantly to Harry, just how perfect and special Hermione made him feel.

“Yeah,” replied Ron to the two so-called adults’ query, oblivious to Harry’s non-verbal interchange with Remus and Tonks. “We were getting to know each other in a ‘/more than friends/’ way, if you know what I mean. But then Harry had to ruin the moment because he needed Hermione for something.”

“Oh,” Tonks said aloud, as if it all made sense to her now. Which of course, judging by the confused look she had on her face, it didn’t.

“Excuse me, everyone,” Charlie announce from the head table, inadvertently putting an end to Ron’s awkward conversation. “It is my privilege as Best Man to introduce to you Mr. and Mrs. William Weasley!” The guests all clapped and cheered as Bill and Fleur walked onto the dance floor. “Let’s watch the happy couple as they take their first dance as man and wife!”

Screeching music started to play, although Harry wasn’t able to determine
where it came from. The Bride and Groom began to waltz elegantly around the dance floor.

“I can’t wait to dance with Hermione,” Ron declared while scanning the crowd, trying to find the witch in question.

“Don’t you know you have to dance with Ginny first?” Remus asked, attempting to diffuse the increasingly tense situation.

“Dance with my travestiadresi.com sister?” Ron retorted scathingly. “We’re not Welsh!”

Remus sighed dejectedly before continuing: “The first dance is for the Bride and Groom. Everyone joins the new couple for the second dance. However, the members of the Bridal Party have to dance with their partners first.”

“But who’ll dance with Hermione while I-” Ron began to weakly argue his case to which Harry responded a bit too quickly and too energetically:

“I’LL DO IT!” he shouted.

“Thanks Harry, I knew I could count on you.” Ron said proudly as he, again, playfully thumped Harry on the shoulder. “Well, I guess I’d better go find Ginny,” Ron continued as he stood up. He turned to Harry and pointed at the shorter wizard and threatened him in a mocking way, “Now, don’t you go and try to steal my girl now!”

“Okay, I won’t…” Harry whimpered pathetically. Giving Harry the “thumbs up” signal, Ron turned and went to find his sister.

Harry looked at Remus and Tonks who both still looked like they were in shock. With a weak shrug towards Remus and Tonks, Harry left the table to find Hermione.

It didn’t take Harry long to find her. He found Hermione by the low wall with Arnold, the Pygmy Puff. She seemed to have her entire focus on Arnold and was still petting him; one could even describe her motions as “pathological petting.”

“Hey, you okay?” Harry cooed as he walked up to her.

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” Hermione began, still petting the useless tribble-like creature. “I had it all planned out: what to say to him and how I’d say it. But when I saw him, I completely froze up.”

“S’okay, I know how that feels,” said Harry. “Would you like for me to tell him?”

“No, I should be the one…” Hermione replied. “I’m just waiting for the proper time to do it. I don’t think it would be good to tell him here. Could you imagine the scene that he would cause?”

“Maybe we’ll tell him tomorrow, then” suggested Harry, to which Hermione replied with a nod. In the distance, Harry heard the song for the first dance end. “Would you care to dance?”

Hermione blushed slightly before responding: “I thought you’d never ask.”

The two quietly made their way to the dance floor. Slow pleasant music filled the air (though to Harry, it was still a little screechy like all wizarding music). Harry took Hermione in his arms and began to dance. They danced in slow circles around the floor, passing Remus and Tonks who were lost in each others eyes.

“They seem so happy together,” Hermione commented while they watched the older couple. “As if they were made for each other.”

“Yeah,” agreed Harry. “Who saw that coming? I don’t even recall them even sharing a conversation last year.”

After Harry and Hermione had slowly danced away from Tonks and Remus, Hermione said to Harry in a dulcet tone: “You do realize we’ll have to get them back for that prank, don’t you?”

“Oh, yeah,” replied Harry in an equally sweet manner.

The next couple they saw dancing were Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

“Oh, Hermione dear,” Mrs. Weasley said as they danced closer to Harry and Hermione. “Thank you so very much for that impassioned blessing you gave earlier.”

“Err… um… ” stammered Hermione, very embarrassed at the memory of her outburst earlier. “You’re welcome, Ma’am.”

The two teens glided across the floor, away from the Weasleys.

“Speaking of the ‘/blessing’/…” Hermione began. “How did you do that?”

“How’d I do what?” Harry asked as innocently as he could.

Hermione got up on her toes so that she could whisper in his ear; “Make me have a screaming orgasm just by touching my hand?”

“Oh, that,” Harry muttered. He was hesitant to tell Hermione about his ‘/special book/’ because he knew that Hermione would want to take the book from him so she could read it for herself (she was like that when it came to books). And he was still reading it. So Harry resolved to himself that he would keep the book a secret just a bit longer and came up with a feeble excuse. “I didn’t do anything, it must’ve been nerves.”

“‘Nerves’?” she asked disbelievingly. Hermione then added in an alluring way; “Well that’s too bad. I was sooo hoping it was something that you did, because then I could repay you in kind. But seeing how it was just ‘nerves’ on my part…”

“Repay me how?” Harry asked, losing a bit of his resolve due to Hermione’s tone.

“Why should I repay you if you did nothing?” she asked rhetorically. Hermione then did something very unexpected. While biting her lip, she pulled away from Harry slightly and tugged the front of her gown down a touch so the top of a very exciting looking black lacy bra, along with a nice expansive view of her cleavage, was revealed. Upon seeing the top edge of the aforementioned bra, let alone the sight of the wondrous flesh, Harry’s resolve of secrecy was completely forgotten. As a matter of fact, his resolve wasn’t the only thing he forgot; he also happened to forget his own name.

It was at this point that ‘/Harry, Jr./’ woke up and took over those pesky thought processes for Harry. The fifth appendage poked Hermione in the hip as if to inform her that her plan to get Harry to tell her his secret had worked.

“I found a boob… uh boo… book. I um mean I uh found a book in the um restricted section…” Harry rambled in a monotone as a little bit of drool threatened to escape his mouth.

Hermione pushed her bosom against Harry’s chest, causing her breasts to push up and almost (‘/Harry, Jr./’ seemed to pray) out of her gown. He so desperately wanted to pull the gown down the rest of the way and ravish her boobs with his mouth.

“Can I see this book later?” Hermione asked, knowing the answer. She knew the answer already because she playfully ground her hips into ‘/Harry, Jr./’, causing the organ to swell even more. This action assured the proper response.

But before Harry could groan out a primal and heartfelt “yes,” he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned and saw two mops of flaming red hair.

“Mind if we cut in?” Ron asked. Before Harry could respond, Hermione was torn from his grasp and was quickly replaced with the girl who physically resembled his /mother/!

Harry looked to Hermione for a plan; she was after all the smartest witch in their generation. She could easily formulate a plan to get him out of the predicament of a slow dance with the girl who physically resembled his /mother/! Alas, Hermione had the same look of desperation in her eyes as well. Hermione quickly disappeared into the crowd with the lumbering red-headed lummox.

Ginny started out by going up on her toes to whisper in Harry’s ear “I hope you don’t mind, but I plan on using this dance to change your mind about us.” Right after she finished her statement, Ginny attempted the same tactic Hermione had tried just moments before. She shoved her chest into Harry’s in an attempt to show off her meager cleavage and shortly there after began to grind her boyish hips into his.

Normally, Harry would have been mortally embarrassed because Ginny would have noticed ‘/Harry, Jr./’. She would have noticed because the bugger was, just previously, fully awake and raring to play “/hide-and-seek/” with Hermione. Luckily for Harry though, when he saw the girl who looked like his /mum/ shove her boobs into his chest, ‘/Harry, Jr./’ instantly lost all interest. But to say that the organ simply “lost interest” was a bit of an understatement. It would be more to the point to say that ‘/Harry, Jr./’ lost so much interest that he grabbed his luggage and went on a little holiday to visit one of his relatives up north, the spleen.

“C’mon Harry,” Ginny implored in a throaty tone as rubbed her chest against his (one might argue that the word “breast” should have been used, but seeing that she hardly had any boobs, others would be more correct by arguing that “chest” is the proper word to describe it). Her hand slid down his back, inching her way to his bum. “You know I could make you a very, very happy man…”

“Um, Ginny…” squeaked Harry. “I really don’t think….” The young wizard broke out in a cold sweat and tried to force himself to tell the girl who looked like his /mother/ that he was no longer (thanks be to every possible deity) interested in her. He thought that he was doing a fairly decent job at it as well, seeing how he was succeeding in fighting the urge to run away. He was successful that is until Ginny licked her lips ravenously and squeezed his arse.

That’s when all of Harry’s remaining cool fled from him. With a manly shout of “GAH!”, Harry smacked the shiny haired girl’s hand away from his posterior and ran like a frightened child. Ginny was left standing dumbfounded in the middle of the dance floor as Harry pushed his way through the crowd. He desperately needed air, he felt like he was suffocating. As he reached the edge of the dance floor, a panting Harry noticed Ron walking up to him.

“You okay, mate?” Ron asked as he took his place besides Harry. “You look like you were attacked by a vicious, bloodthirsty beast.”

“Practically,” answered Harry, finding Ron’s analogy somewhat fitting.

“Well, it looks like we both have to sit the next dance out,” Ron continued while Harry tried to catch his breath. “Hermione’s mental, I tell you. We were just talking about stuff then she tells me that she wants to talk about us. And I thought that was a great idea and I told her what I’d like to do to her later…” Ron ended his eloquent statement by making the same rude “kneading dough” gesture from before. “Then she sees Arnold again and runs off talking about ‘troubles’.”

“Tribbles,” Harry corrected.

“I’d just like to start off where we left off the other day, is all.” Ron whined. “It was great, Harry,” Ron stated in an overzealous tone. “We were in my room when we started to snog…”

Harry remembered Hermione’s recollections of that day and realized that Ron was embellishing a bit.

“… she then moaned in my ear ‘/you’re so wonderful, Ron/’…”

It was this point that Harry realized that his friend wasn’t just embellishing a bit, he was utterly delusional! Harry desperately wanted to tell Ron about his and Hermione’s relationship so Ron wouldn’t embarrass himself further, but he knew that Hermione wanted to be the one who broke the news to him.

“I know I shouldn’t tell you this Harry, seeing how you’re single now and you’ll get jealous but,” Ron beamed with masculine pride. “… I felt her up! It was fantastic! It’s like I’m a man now!”

Harry wanted to yell at him: ‘/You felt her up? Big Deal! / /You didn’t even see her even a little naked, I saw her very naked! And as for fondling her, I felt her up very properly. Right before I ate her out!/’

“Mind you, I do prefer blondes,” Ron said as he stared dumbly at Fleur, who was standing behind Luna Lovegood as the two girls waited to pour themselves their drinks from the bar. “Maybe I could get Hermione to dye her hair?”

“I like her hair the way it is!” Harry protested. “It’s a part of who she is!’

“I thought you liked red-heads, like Ginny?” Ron questioned roughly, taken back at Harry’s impassioned tone. Harry shuddered at the memory of running his fingers through Ginny’s red hair, the same hair color as his /mother’s/!

Harry shook his head in an attempt to rid his mind of those disturbing images and looked up and saw that Hermione had joined the line to get a drink.

“I knew you’d be jealous,” Ron stated.

“I’m not jealous…” Harry began to argue when he saw Ginny sneak up behind Hermione as she approached the bar for her own drink. The red haired witch pulled a small glass vial out of her robes and inconspicuously poured its contents into Hermione’s cup. Obviously, Hermione didn’t see Ginny or notice the younger witch pour the mysterious liquid into her cup, because Hermione filled the tampered cup up with pumpkin juice and started to raise it to her lips. Terror coursed through Harry at the thought of Hermione drinking whatever it was that Ginny had poured into her cup!

Harry reacted purely on instinct. He whipped out his wand and shouted in a clear and very loud voice, “/ACCIO HERMIONE’S CUP!”/

Now, something strange happened. Harry clearly stated that he wanted to Summon Hermione’s cup, but for some odd reason, his magic misunderstood him. Instead of Summoning Hermione’s drink cup like he had commanded, Harry’s magic Summoned Hermione’s /B-cups/.

With a sound of tearing fabric, Hermione’s lacey, black bra flew from her bosom and into Harry’s waiting hand. Harry gulped when he saw Hermione’s shocked and angry expression. He gulped because he saw her wondrous boobs as well- he thought idly that her boobs giggled quite nicely. Hermione quickly recovered and grabbed the fragments of her dress and covered her exposed flesh. Luckily, everyone’s attention had been on Harry because he had shouted, and no one saw Hermione’s embarrassment. Everyone that is except for Ron.

“Merlin,” Ron muttered out in a stunned tone, “I think I saw one of her nipples…”

A small part of Harry’s brain internally pondered on what Ron had said and asked, ‘Did he see ‘/Carmella’/ or ‘/Natasha’/?’

The one positive effect of this disastrous event was that Hermione had dropped her drink that had been spiked by Ginny. Of course the main effect of this disastrous event wasn’t positive and it could possibly lead to Harry’s death. Or even worse, never seeing Hermione naked again! This negative effect was Hermione’s rage, and it was directed at Harry. The raven-haired wizard gulped once more, this time in plain fear, under the icy gaze coming from his definitely more-than-a-friend friend.

Recovering his senses, Harry quickly pointed his wand at Ginny and shouted “/ACCIO GINNY’S VIAL!”/ The small glass container popped out of Ginny’s pocket and flew into Harry’s waiting hand, the same hand that was still holding Hermione’s enticing bra, mind you.

Harry stormed up to Ginny and shoved his left hand in her face while pointing his wand at her with his right. “What is this?” Harry demanded loudly.

“Err… Hermione’s bra…” Ginny offered innocently, as if she had done nothing wrong.

“No, not that,” Harry spat as he pulled the undergarment out of his hand and discreetly pocketed it (he reckoned that if the “Accio” incident was going to ruin his chances with Hermione, at least he would have a souvenir). He then shoved the glass vial in the red head’s face and demanded: “What is this?”

“N- Nothing,” Ginny defended, “it’s just water.”

A large group of people, including Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Slughorn, had gathered around to see what the commotion was all about.

“Pardon, if I may?” Horace Slughorn offered as he walked up to Harry. The younger, skinnier wizard handed the vial to the older, obese wizard. Slughorn held the vial up to his nose and inhaled deeply. A surprised look appeared on his face. “Oho, this is a Lust Potion… what are you planning on doing my dear?” he asked, turning to Ginny.

“A Lust Potion?” Hermione asked, “Harry, what was she doing?”

“She poured this into your drink,” explained Harry and all the color from Hermione’s face drained away.

“It was… It was only a joke,” stated Ginny.

“My dear, a Lust Potion isn’t something to trifle with,” Slughorn said gravely. “It causes the person who drinks it to lose all of their inhibitions when it comes to physical passions. It’s very similar to Love Potions if only much milder in its duration…”

Harry suddenly recalled the conversation he had with Hermione a few days ago; she had said that she had acted strangely the previous school year, that she “felt compelled” to start dating. Then a question hit Harry, was the reason Hermione had “felt compelled” to date Ron and her strange behavior during the last year all because Ginny had poisoned her?

“How many times have you poisoned her?” Harry demanded.

“Just this once,” Ginny stated in a very convincing way. “I told you it was just a joke!”

“That’s a very sick idea of a joke, young lady,” Molly chastised her as Hermione looked like she was about to break down and start sobbing. At first, Harry believed Ginny’s statement that she had only done it once and was about to drop his line of questioning when another realization dawned upon him. He remembered two years ago, when he had arrived at Grimmauld Place and saw first-hand how Ginny could lie in a very convincing manner. He recalled that he thought at the time that she would make a good actress because of her ability to lie. ‘She was a good liar!’

Harry suddenly realized that he couldn’t trust Ginny’s word, not when it came to Hermione’s well being. He had to see if Ginny had been poisoning Hermione; he had to do it for Hermione’s sake.

Harry knew that he would have to force the truth out of Ginny somehow and he only knew of two ways of doing that. The first was to use Veritaserum, but that potion was regulated by the Ministry and he doubted that he could get his hands on it. The other way was fairly dangerous, and he had not been trained in it at all; he had only been trained how to defend himself from it. But he had to see if Ginny was lying, he had to do it for Hermione.

Once more, Harry leveled his wand at Ginny and declared, “/Legilimens//!”/

A migraine inducing swarm of images and emotions flooded Harry’s brain. Image after image flew past him, like he was watching some horribly edited film. Harry forced himself to concentrate on Ginny’s thoughts and images relating to Hermione and potions. The first dozen images that rushed by Harry dealt with Hermione tutoring Ginny with her Potion Essays. But then, he saw an image of Hermione in Muggle clothes at the Burrow and saw Ginny indiscreetly pour contents of a glass vial into Hermione’s tea cup. The last image Harry saw before breaking the connection was a repeat performance from just moments before, when both Ginny and Hermione were standing in line, waiting for a drink.

Harry lowered his wand and fell to his knees; his brain felt like it was threatening to pop out of his skull in the most horrific and gruesome way possible. Ginny, by the looks of it, was suffering from a similar headache.

The group that had gathered around was staring at Harry and Ginny in stunned silence.

“When did you give her that first dosage?” Harry asked. A scowl appeared on Ginny’s face at Harry’s question. Harry asked again: “You gave her the Lust Potion sometime ago. When was it?”

“A few days ago, when you Owled her for help,” Ginny replied through gritted teeth.

Harry heard Hermione gasp aloud. He turned to face her and saw that she had tears streaming down her face. “Hermione….” began Harry. Hermione looked at Harry with absolute terror in her eyes. Before Harry could do anything, Hermione dashed toward the Burrow. Tonks and Remus quickly gave chase.

“Hermione, wait!” Harry implored and began to follow her when a small hand grabbed him by his arm.

“Don’t you want to know why I did it?” Ginny asked, her face twisted with anger. “I did it so my lummox of a brother and that Know-it-all would finally hook up. Merlin knows he needs all the help he can get. But I did it because I needed to get Hermione out of the way, so we could be together. She’s the only girl you’ve ever talk to,” Ginny continued.

“Have you ever asked yourself why that is?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, it tells me that you need to talk to more girls,” retorted Ginny.

“No, it should tell you that I’m in love with her!” exclaimed Harry and a collective gasp emanated from the crowd. Along with the gasps, several dozen flashes went off as the photographers who had accompanied the reporters to the wedding took pictures. Many of the reporters were muttering about the scoop of the year while scribbling notes down on bits of parchment. A moment later, a number of these reporters apparated away, obviously to write up articles on The Chosen One’s love life. A wave of anxiety washed over Harry as he realized that his outburst would more likely than not end up as front page news.

“You’re in what with /who/?” Ron sputtered.

Harry paused before answering, as he did a bit of soul searching. For the past few days, while he and Hermione spent more time together than ever before (and some of that was ‘naked time’), he hadn’t really bothered to try and define his feelings for her. Even though the outburst was unintentional; it felt natural; it was something Harry had wanted to say for a long time. It felt right saying it, and it made Harry happy, the happiest he had been in a long time.

“I said that I’m in love with Hermione,” repeated Harry.

“But you can’t be in love with Hermione,” argued Ron. “You love Ginny”

“No, I don’t,” Harry responded.

“Of course you do. It’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

“Ron, look at her,” Harry stated while pointing at Ginny. “She looks like my /mother/!”

“So, what does that…?” Ron began to debate but then stopped and looked at his sister. Slowly, his eyes started to bulge as the realization that his best mate appeared to have had an Oedipus Complex sunk in Ron’s mind. “Eww, that’s just wrong…”

“Tell me about it,” agreed Harry as he unsuccessfully tried to repress a shudder.

“Hey, I’m standing right here!” Ginny shouted.

“But that doesn’t matter,” Ron continued, obviously getting over his shock of finally noticing that Harry and Ginny’s relationship was sick and twistedly wrong. “Hermione’s still my girl!”

“How can that be Ron?” asked Harry. “You find her boring and a nag. She finds you lazy and pig-headed. She loves to learn and read; the last thing you read that wasn’t assigned to read for a class was a Quidditch Playbook. Even then you didn’t really read it, you travestilist.com merely looked at the pictures. The only thing you two have in common is your constant bickering!”

“But isn’t squabbling a sign of a good relationship?” Ron asked.

“Yes,” replied Harry, dripping in scorn. “In poorly written Muggle comedic films… not in real life! In real life, at best it’s a sign of an impending break-up. At worst, it’s nothing more than emotional abuse. Because of the arguments you both have, it’s obvious you two don’t respect each other. Damn it, respect is the best foundation for a good relationship, not fighting! Hermione and I respect each other. We also have more in common than you ever did with her.”

“But that isn’t fair,” Ron continued. “You get everything, Harry! Fame, fortune, and now you want the girl, too?”

“Wait a tic,” interrupted Harry, his anger growing. “Do I have to point out to you that the only reason I have ‘/fame and fortune’/ is because a very mean man murdered my family simply because he was trying to kill me?”

“Oh, well, yeah, but…” Ron answered dumbly. “You’ve got me there…”

“And do I also have to point out that because of that ‘/killing my family’/ thing I grew up in an abusive household? And because of that ‘/mean man trying to kill me/’ thing, I’ve been pursued and attacked by every bad guy in the British Isles?”

“But that doesn’t mean you can get the girl…”

“Yes, it does!” Harry yelled. “After all the pain and crap I’ve gone through, I deserve a little happiness! Besides, I’m the hero… that entitles me to the girl!”

“What does that make me then?” Ron spat. “The side kick?”

“Um…” Harry hesitated before answering, “…well, yeah, kind of.”

Ron bellowed out a curse and he stormed off toward the row of trees behind the Burrow.

“If you’re the ‘hero’ and Ron’s the ‘side kick’,” Ginny seethed, her anger flowing off of her skin. “What does that make me?”

“I don’t know, Ginny,” stated Harry. “Right now, based on your actions, I’d have to say you’re nothing more than a crazed stalker!”

Ginny huffed angrily and promptly followed Ron to the trees.

“Harry,” Mr. Weasley calmly said trying to diffuse the sticky situation. “I think it’s best if you leave for now. Just let them calm down for a while.”

Harry knew he was right; this was not the time to try to mend his friendship with Ron. Hopefully, he would be able to do it later.

Dejectedly, Harry headed to the Burrow where he found Tonks and Lupin waiting for him.

“Do you know where Hermione went?” asked Harry.

“She was a bit… distraught when she came in here,” Tonks stated.

“So we made her a Portkey to take her back to the Gryffindor Common Room,” Remus concluded.

Harry paused lost in his thoughts. He was torn between either running to Hermione to see if she was okay or leaving her alone for a bit so that she could think this through. He really didn’t know what to do; he had never been in a situation like this before. He knew Hermione was hurting, but he didn’t know if or how he could help her. He then thought of Remus, surely he had been through something like this. Maybe he could give Harry some advice on what to do. Harry turned to Remus, but before he could ask the older wizard for advice, Remus spoke up.

“And we happened to make a similar Portkey for you as well,” Remus said while pointing to an old shoe lying on the table next to Harry.

“Thank you,” Harry said and shook Remus’ hand.

“Good luck, Harry,” said Tonks.

Harry touched the Portkey and a second later, he crashed onto the floor of the Gryffindor Common Room. Brushing himself off as he stood up, Harry looked around the room in a fruitless attempt to find Hermione.

“Hermione!” he called out but no one answered. He then tried again, “HERMIONE!”

After a moment or two, Harry finally heard a muffled response coming from the girls’ dormitory. “Go away, Harry. I want to be left alone.”

Somehow, Harry knew that even though she had said she had wanted to be alone, she wanted desperately to be held by him. But he couldn’t go up the stairs leading to her room because of that pesky “No boys allowed” rule that the founders placed on the stairs. He knew from experience that the moment he placed a foot on the stairs, they would magically change into a slide and an alarm would sound, making it impossible for him to climb them. So the only way Harry could get up to Hermione is if he flew.

Luckily, it only took Harry a mere three minutes to remember that he had his broom up in his room (this realization came after he had tried to unsuccessfully Transfigure himself into a bird twice). He rushed to his room and pulled his Firebolt out of his trunk. After hopping on the broom, Harry rocketed out of his room, down the stairs, through the Common Room, and over the stairs leading to the girls’ rooms. Of course he didn’t know which room was Hermione’s because he had never been there before. So Harry listened for the muffled cries of Hermione. He heard her sobs coming from the third door on the right. Harry softly knocked on the door before entering.

He found her curled up on her bed. Hermione slowly looked up and into Harry’s face. Tears had stained her cheeks, but she had a determined look in her eyes.

“H-Harry, I don’t think we should be together any more…” Hermione forced herself to say.

“What? Why?” Harry stammered, shocked at Hermione’s revelation.

“Because I’m afraid what we… have, it isn’t real,” explained Hermione. “Ginny spiked my tea before I came to visit you the other day and I practically molested you because of it.”

“So what?” Harry retorted.

“So, the Lust Potion obviously affected me and my actions…”

“How long would the effects last?” asked Harry.

“It depends,” answered Hermione, falling back into her safe routine of being the one with the answers. “Usually only a few hours…”

“So you were under the influence of the Potion when you…” Harry began and paused slightly at the memory of Hermione giving ‘/Harry, Jr.’/ a hand shake. “When you jumped me?”

“Yes,” replied Hermione.

“What about later that night when we were in the library?”

“Probably not, but there is still a chance I was still under its effects.”

“Even if you were, what about later? Were you still affected by the potion when you gave me my… err… birthday present? That was two days after you got the potion.”

“That isn’t the point, Harry!” Hermione exclaimed.

“Why not?”

“Because, I wouldn’t have done that thing the first time without being under the effects of the potion,” she said and looked guiltily at her hand. “And even though the Lust Potion was out of my system after that, I don’t think I would’ve done those… things with you if I hadn’t… molested you first.”

“So what you’re saying is that Ginny unintentionally got us together.” Harry surmised.

“Yes… what… no?” responded Hermione, obviously confused with Harry’s train of thought.

“Listen,” Harry began and he walked over to where Hermione was still laying. “Ginny gave you that potion so you’d relax your inhibitions and get together with Ron. But before the effects of the dosing kicked in, I had Owled you for help. You came over to help me, so the effects of the potion kicked in when you and I were talking.”

“Yes, that’s my point!” Hermione announced.

“Let me ask you a question,” Harry continued. “If I hadn’t Owled you and you ended up doing… things with Ron, would you have continued to be intimate with him after the potion wore off?”

“It’s impossible to say now,” answered Hermione. “I can’t tell you what I would’ve done if the situation was different.”

“Yes, you can,” Harry interrupted. “Do you honestly believe that you would’ve stayed with Ron, bearing in mind that you two argue constantly and have absolutely nothing in common?

“No, probably not,” Hermione replied honestly.

“And yet you’ve stayed with me,” Harry continued. “Why is that?”

Hermione hesitated as she looked deep into Harry’s eyes, obviously afraid to answer.

“Let me tell you why,” Harry stated. “It’s because you and I have something special, something that goes beyond lust. Remember, according to Slughorn, the potion only lowered your inhibitions. It would not have made you do anything that you weren’t already wanting, at least subconsciously. If you had felt nothing for me, there’s no way Ginny’s Lust Potion would have created these feelings. The end result is just that you acted on your impulses rather than trying to make up reasons why you shouldn’t have done anything. And I thank God that you did make the move; I have to tell you I was too afraid of scaring you away. I wouldn’t be the same person if you weren’t there for me. And I don’t think I ever want to try not having you with me.”

Taking her hands in his, Harry gently guided Hermione off the bed so that she was standing in front of her. Harry let go of her hands and softly cupped her face in his hands.

“I can honestly say Hermione…” Harry began and leaned in close to her so that his mouth hovered over her delicate lips. “that I am deeply and sincerely in love with you.”

Harry let Hermione gasp in surprise before sealing his lips over hers. He poured all of his love, all of his being, into the kiss. He had hoped it was the type of kiss that would make Hermione’s toes curl. Apparently, Harry’s tactic had worked because Hermione moaned into his mouth and she threw her arms around his neck. His hands slid from her face, his left arm wrapped around her body, pulling her closer to him. He ran his right hand through her hair so that he could cradle her head.

After what seemed like hours, the two pulled away from each others’ mouths and rested their foreheads against one another.

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione said softly. “How could I have doubted what we have?”

“Just don’t let it happen again, love.” Harry said, attempting at injecting a touch of humor.

“I love you too Harry,” breathed Hermione. “And I love your hands on my /bottom/,” Hermione giggled. She said the word “/bottom/” like it was a dirty naughty thing that deserved to be spanked. Harry thought it was a request for him to squeeze her bum, but before he could comply, he was stopped when Hermione literarily purred and said, “Do it again, Harry.”

‘Again?’ This puzzled the young wizard, since his hands were nowhere near her bum. In fact, his left arm was still wrapped around her body and his right was somewhat tangled in her bushy hair. Harry look down at Hermione’s backside (something that he discovered that he liked to do) and saw that an old, wrinkly, and somewhat transparent hand was firmly attached to his girlfriend’s bum Harry’s eyes slowly followed up the transparent arm and into the smiling face of Godric Gryffindor.

“What Cheer, Harry?” the ghost greeted Harry and promptly gave another squeeze to Hermione’s pert bottom. “Thought you needed a /hand/.”

To be continued!

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