Introduction:
Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor
Chapter Twenty-Seven: 2, 3, 4, give me more.
Disclaimer: 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 Twenty-Seven: Harry and Hermione make up for lost time.
“I happen to have been enjoying that,” the ghost of Gryffindor said with annoyance as he pointed to the bulge in his trousers. He continued angrily; “Interrupting me like that was an incredibly rude thing to do. If my balls weren’t transparent, they’d be turning blue right now!”
“Do you think Icare, you nasty piece of filth?” Harry snapped. Harry wished, truly wished, that he could harm the annoying ghost at that moment. He wanted to show Gryffindor even a small amount of pain that he and Hermione were suffering. That,and the spirit’s antics had denied Harry anal sex. That was just low.
“We’re the laughing stock of the school,” Harry shouted. He made sure not to mention that Hermione wasn’t going to have sex until after this predicament was over; Harry knew that Gryffindor would revel in such information… particularly if it was about buggery.
“Trust me, boy, they’re not laughing,” the spirit said with a depraved smile. “They’re having sex or wankingoff – which is what I was about to do before you ruined the moment – but they’re definitely not laughing.”
“What did Ideserve to have you, a lecherous pervert, invade my life?” Harry asked rhetorically. “Not only did you spy on me and Hermione, but you passed around Pensieves from those invasions of privacy. Now, everybody in the castle has seen us together!”
“All right, boy, let me say this;” the ghost said gravely. “Yes, I did spy on you and your bird. You two are rather entertaining after all. In particular, that bit I was just watching there,” he said, gesturing to the silver liquid dripping down the wall. “Having her hook her legs behind her shoulders and then taking her while facing away, pure genius.
“But, and I cannot state this clearly enough, I. Can. Not. Make. A. Pensieve. Memory,” he said firmly.
“What?” Harry demanded.
“Think about it boy. If I could make Pensieves, wouldn’t I have shown you some of my more impressive exploits? Like the time I took a plump witch while standing on my head. Or when I sung ‘O, Britannia’ when switching between twins. Now that one was one of the higher points of my life and afterlife,” the ghost explained. “Besides, one needs a corporeal mind to extract Pensieve Memories. Sure, unlike a normal ghost, I have the fairly unique ability to affect the living, but my current status explicitly means that I no longer have a physical brain.”
Pondering over this statement, Harry realized that Gryffindor was telling the truth. Not so much in regards to the”corporeal mind” thing, but the ghost would’ve definitely done his best to scar Harry by showing him Pensieves of odd and perverted sex acts.
“Then… then who made those memories?” asked Harry desperately.
“Well, you could have watched the Pensieve and found out, couldn’t you? Walked around inside the memory and found the perpetrator,” the ghost speculated. “But that won’t work, will it? No, because you blew the damn thing to bits. Of course, if you hadn’t, you still would’ve had to wait your turn, because I was enjoying myself!”
“Oh, I’m sorry you couldn’t enjoy my suffering,” Harry snapped bitterly.
“Your suffering?” the ghost asked with asnide grin. “Aren’t you overreacting a bit, you melodramatic ninny?”
“Nearly everyone in this school has seen me and Hermione having sex!” the young wizard shot back.
“So what?” returned Gryffindor. “I would be proud if I were you.”
“But you’re not me. I’m not a pervert.”
“I’m not talking about the joys of sharing -which is loads of fun; especially’trains.’ That’s where once one bloke is done with a bird, you plow in; getting his stuff and hers on your junk. It’s all hot, wet, and sticky,” the spirit rambled. “I’m talking about making people happy.”
Harry was about to protest, but the ghost forged ahead.
“Sure everybody’s seen that funny face you make when you cum; where your left eye bulges and your right’s all squeezed shut while your mouth is open like a wide-mouthed troll. And most everyone has renamed your bird ‘April Showers’ behind your backs ’cause she’s a bit of a gusher as you well know. But you’ve missed the important thing here. You’ve made your peers truly happy,” the ghost said with a surprising amount of sincerity – in regards to the bit about being happy that is, the letch was smiling like the kneazle who ate thesnidget when he had said the word “gusher.” “I’ve been coming – and cuming – to this school for centuries; it’s a good place for an old voyeur like me to get his jollies. And I can say with certainty; I have never seen the students as happy as they are at this moment and it’s all thanks to you.”
“You’re telling me that everyone is perverted and they like to watch?” Harry asked bitingly. The thought of everyone wanking to the image of him and Hermione made his stomach turn.
“Harry, there’s a war going on,” Gryffindor said with a gentle smile. “People are dieing. And by all rights, these kids should be frightened. But they’re not. They’re running down the halls laughing and being happy. And you showed them the way.”
“I think you’re the one overreacting now,”Harry retorted.
“Am I? Harry, you and your wonderfully nimble witch have shown everybody that they should live their lives despite the war,” the spirit explained. “You two are in love and living your lives. Almost in spite of the tragedies around you. And through these Pensieves, you’ve told everyone to do the same, in effect.
“Also, you’ve help knock down the silly House rivalries,” the ghost continued. “There is a lot more interaction, both socially and scholastically, between the Houses now.
Harry thought over this for a moment. Had the Pensieves really done so much? Did everyone have hope because of him and Hermione? And he was also shocked and impressed by Gryffindor’s insight. From this conversation, Harry started to respect the ghost for his compassion and insight. Then Gryffindor dashed that respect to pieces with his next statement.
“For example; there’s this sixth year Slytherin, a blonde with gorgeous melons, and she’s dating blokes from other Houses. A year ago, she would’ve been ostracized for even talking to someone outside of Slytherin. That Slytherin witch is simply wonderful. After she watched one of your Pensieves, she took a sixth year Ravenclaw in her mouth, a fourth year Gryffindor in her bum, and two fifth year Hufflepuffs in her cunny… at the same time!” the spirit said with reverence. “Heavens, Harry my boy, you should’ve been there!”
Harry tried to fight the unconscious need to picture what Gryffindor had described. The thought of that many penises relative to the number of available entrances was somewhat disconcerting to the young wizard.
“It was glorious, two wizards, dueling one another with the wands their parents gave them in the same tight cave. It was epic,” the ghost said in awe. “She was covered in man juice at the end.
“Oh, look at that!” Gryffindor said, pointing at the bulge in his trousers. “Look who’s back. Maybe Ican find that Slytherin witch again and catch another show.”
The ghost waved at Harry before turning and trotting out of the room, humming happily to himself.
Harry eyed the silvery liquid as it dripped down the wall. He didn’t know if Gryffindor was right about his theory about the Pensieves making everyone happy, but the perverted ghost was certainly right about one thing. Harry could’ve entered the memory and found who was recording his and Hermione’s intimate moments.
The young wizard was drawn out of his thoughts when Gryffindor stuck his head back into the room.
“Oh, and if you do find out who’s been spying on you, tell me,” the ghost requested. “He’s a fellow perverted pilgrim and I’d like to shake his hand. Perhaps he and I can share stories… or even hand-jobs.”
~*~
To say that Hermione was worried about the still-unknown pervert spying on them was an understatement. When Harry had returned to his room, he found his girlfriend wearing a high-neck sweater, a pair of slacks and an ankle length skirt (at the same time), as well as two robes, one over the other. It was clear that the witch was worried to show even an inch of skin in fear that their unseen pervert would distribute the image all over the school. Harry, too, was just as frightened. The idea of anyone watching him and Hermione set him on edge.
Needless to say, this put a damper on Harry’s love life. The couple was afraid to do anything besides kiss lightly – and even then, they looked around to make sure no one was watching. Neither one daring to do more with each other in fear of the act being shown to their peers through Pensieve Memories.
Harry’s resolve lasted for two full days before ‘Harry, Jr.’ began to protest. No one could blame the member, just a few days before it had been promised an exciting new adventure with Hermione, in her dirty place no less, only to have the offer cruelly rescinded. While in the shower, ‘Harry, Jr.’ would gaze up at its friend with a pleading look in its eye, begging him to have a romp with Hermione. But Harry fought the urge, he needed to root out the voyeuristic pervert and make him or her stop before he could be intimate with Hermione again. ‘Harry, Jr.’ didn’t give a damn about any pervert; all the organ cared about was going into Hermione – any entrance would do at that desperate point – and dropping off a sticky package or two.
Added to Harry’s discomfort, every time he walked by a closed door, whether a broom cupboard or classroom, he could hear moans of passion emanating from the room. Apparently, the Pensieves had become incredibly popular to the point that it seemed that every student in the school was having sex… except for him. On two separate occasions, Harry heard “Maximus Intellegentia!” being shouted, meaning that his peers were performing the Wit Enhancing ritual. ‘Well, at least they’re learning something useful,’ he thought to himself.
On the third day after the confrontation with Gryffindor, a very sickening discovery was revealed to Harry. A very happy and bright, nay, downright joyous and radiant Professor Sprout bounded up to Harry. Smiling broadly, the plump professor said, “I know this is inappropriate for me to do, Mr. Potter, but I must thank you. Horace and I have found your instructional Pensieves to be,” at this point, the elder witch’s eyes began to twinkle wildly like sparkles, “well, rather exciting. It took a bit of effort, but Horace and I were able to perform the Wit Enhancing ritual.”
Suddenly, Harry felt very queasy. The mental image of Professor Sprout contorting herself into a twisted pretzel was unappealing, but on an infinitely worse scale, was the image of Professor Slughorn naked, much less shagging. In his mind’s eye, Harry saw the corpulent man, naked and sweating, thrusting away. The fat man’s face was a bright puce and his eyes were screwed shut in ecstasy. His fat was rippling in waves like the sea during a storm, sending his sweat showering all around.
“One hundred points to… no wait,” Sprout chirped. “One thousand points to Gryffindor!” she said with a flourish, and skipped away.
~*~
Ron and Luna joined in Harry and Hermione’s quest to find the pervert. But unlike Harry and Hermione, who were subtle in their inquires of their fellow students (asking simple, open questions such as “Have you seen anything interesting lately?”), Ron would walk up to someone and demand, “Have you seen my best mates go down on each other?” To which Ron got several different unhelpful responses, including “Not yet” and “Are you offering to let me watch?” Unfortunately, one time Ron had asked his question after leaving Dean and Seamus. The younger student being questioned “Have you seen my best mates go down on each other?” assumed that the red head had been referring to Dean and Seamus, leading to an embarrassing rumor about the two wizards.
Over the course of the next several days, Harry and Hermione were able to discern that their peers didn’t know who was giving them the Pensieves. They would wake up to find the Pensieve waiting for them on their bedside table. Or find the memories already set-up upon walking into a previously empty room. Also, during this investigation, Harry and Hermione were proposed to several times, asked to sign over a dozen autographs, and offered to watch a number of couples have sex so that they could give helpful pointers. Several witches and wizards actually began to strip in front of Harry and Hermione while suggesting an impromptu session of group sex.
~*~
One afternoon, Harry’s thoughts were drawn away from his worries about the Pensieves floating around and, to him, the more important building pressure in his loins caused from lack of intimacy, when he heard a student announcing to one of their friends:
“Draco Malfoy and his mum are in the castle!”
Knowing that Malfoy and his mother were meeting with Professor McGonagall in regards to being allowed to return to Hogwarts, Harry made his way to the Headmistress’office. He waited patiently in the hall in a dark alcove a few feet from the hidden entrance. A few minutes later, McGonagall and the two Malfoys exited the office. From his hiding place, Harry watched.
Narcissa Malfoy looked like a wreck. The witch had heavy dark rings surrounding her eyes and her once neatly quaffed blonde hair was now dirty and unkempt; sticking up at odd angles all over her head. A very noticeable facial tick had developed, it caused her to squeeze one eye shut and scrunch up her face every few seconds. Worst of all to the outside observer was the enormous lump on her leg. The growth, hidden by Mrs. Malfoy’s robes, trembled and made squeaking sounds. Harry fought the smile that was threatening to crack his face; Kreatcher was still doing his job. Harry had commanded the foul little elf to continuously molest Mrs. Malfoy’s leg and obviously it had wreaked havoc upon the pompous witch.
Draco, as opposed to his mother, looked very happy, jolly even. He had a full smile and a glow to his cheeks. Harry had never seen Draco with this expression before. Previously, when Malfoy smiled, it was always malicious or cruel; but this smile was genuine and kind. The young wizard’s attire was different as well. Instead of his normal outfit of black, silver and dark green, Draco was wearing a bright lime green cravat, periwinkle blue robes, and brilliant pink creepers. The blond wizard’s hat was flamboyant yellow with sparkling red stars.
“Thank you for your…” Mrs. Malfoy began to say to McGonagall but the unseen House Elf attached to her leg let out a loud groan accompanying asquirting sound. Mrs. Malfoy shivered violently and let out a bark like sob before composing herself. “Thank you for your time, Headmistress.”
With that, Mrs. Malfoy, with a slight limp, led her son away. Draco followed his mother with a noticeable prance to his step.
Once they were out of sight, Harry moved up to McGonagall.
“How’d it go, Professor?” he asked.
With a chuckle in her voice, the old witch replied, “Oh, Mr. Malfoy will be returning next Monday.”
“But I thought that you were going to discus this with the staff, me, and Hermione?”
“Mr. Malfoy proved to me beyond any doubt that he’s changed,” McGonagall said with a heavy dosage of mirth to her voice. “Changed in several ways, I might add.”
“But, Professor, Istill think he’s a threat,” he protested.
“Changed man, Potter,” the Headmistress reasserted. “In several ways.”
The witch had put an odd emphasis on the phrase “in several ways” and gave Harry one of her disturbing saucy winks. As Harry shivered in discomfort, McGonagall turned and walked back into her office. Once the Gargoyle moved back to cover the stairwell, Harry heard McGonagall’s riotous laughter through the stone.
Harry was upset, to say the least. Not only was he denying himself sex, but now he’d have to deal with that evil git Malfoy returning to school. He had looked forward to the meeting that McGonagall had promised. He was planning on arguing why Draco shouldn’t be allowed to return. But now, McGonagall nixed the meeting and had given Malfoy the go ahead to come back. Harry grumbled under his breath all the way back to his chambers.
“McGonagall’s letting Malfoy come back,” he informed Hermione who was still wearing multiple layers of clothing.
“Big whoop,” she said moodily, her heavily clothed arms folded across her chest.
“How can you dismiss this, Hermione?” he demanded. “McGonagall is letting a marked Death Eater, who at the very least participated in the attack against Hogwarts and in the murder of Dumbledore.”
“Because I’m randy as hell,” she shot back hotly. “I need to be shagged rotten and we can’t do it because some pervert is watching us!”
Harry slumped his shoulders. He, too, was desperate; there was nothing he wanted more than to feel Hermione. The thought of making Hermione moan caused his organ to twitch.
“I’m just sorry Iblew up that Pensieve,” he admitted, wishing that he could satisfy himself. “When I saw Gryffindor watching it, I was positive he was the one.”
“In a way, it made sense,” Hermione offered. “Despite the fact he doesn’t have a corporeal brain to extract memories from, Gryffindor can turn invisible. And obviously, the person watching can turn invisible, otherwise we would’ve seen them.”
Harry nodded his head. The person spying on them was either very good at casting a Disillusionment Charm or had an Invisibility Cloak.
Just then, as if by some Divine Intervention, some movement caught Harry’s eye. He watched as Dobby the House Elf trot around in the shadows, tidying up the place. He found it odd how the tiny creature could be so inconspicuous that he was barely seen. Then, Harry remembered a peculiar incident from a few weeks previously; he had peered into Dobby’s cupboard and seen shelves upon shelves of glass vials each filled with silvery liquid.
“Dobby, could you come here, please?” Harry asked, his voice even and patient unlike his demeanor which was beginning to become angry.
“Yes, Harry Potter sir,” the elf squeaked happily as he walked out of the shadows.
“Have you been watching us?” the wizard asked.
“Of course, Dobby be a good House Elf and good House Elves always be watching so’sthat we’s can be assisting whenever we’s can,” Dobby explained. “If you’s needs laundry, Dobby be ready. If you’s need food, Dobby be ready.”
“What are you getting at Harry?” Hermione asked. Harry knew that if Hermione had known about the glass vials in Dobby’s room, she wouldn’t have asked.
“Now Dobby, Iforbid you from punishing yourself, but have you been watching Hermione and Imake love?” clarified Harry.
The elf’s ears flattened against his head and he fidgeted, as if wanting to rush to the wall, to bash his head against it. With a tiny and meek voice, Dobby answered, “Yes.”
Hermione shot up and stared with wide eyes at the House Elf.
“Did you pass around Pensieve Memories to the other students?” asked Harry calmly.
Again, Dobby trembled and squeaked “Yes.”
“Why?” Hermione asked.
“Because Dobby is a bad House Elf,” Dobby said mournfully. “Harry Potter Sir and The Great One are more betterthan Dobby’s last Masters in every way; you’s are kind and wonderful, but you’s are also pretty and have fun romps. Former Master and Mistress would just have angry romps. Mistress would always say that Master would only care about himself cumming, that’s why Dobby had to finish her off.
“But Harry Potter Sir and The Great One love each other and it was wonderful to watch. Unlike former Master, Harry always makes sure The Great One has fun too,” the elf admitted. “It was so wonderful that Dobby began making Pensievesso that Dobby could watch the beautiful fun romps whenever Dobby wanted to.”
Harry and Hermione shared a look. Dobby had spied on them not only out of perversion, but innocence as well. The couple had been offended that their privacy had been invaded, but Dobby had done so for some odd sweetness.
“But why did you pass the Pensieves around?” asked Harry.
“Dobby saw how Harry Potter sir’s and The Great One’s Pensieve about licking the bald feline had helped Weezy and Weezy’sbig boobied missus and Dobby be thinking that alls the students in the castle could use help,” the tiny creature explained. “Weezy and Weezy’s big boodied missus were so happy that Dobby thought the other students should be happy as well. Dobby thought that since Harry Potter sir is such a great wizard and that Harry Potter sir has a saving people thing that Harry Potter would want to help as many people as he could.”
“So in order to help as many people as you could, you began to deliver them to everyone?”Hermione asked nervously.
“Yes, Oh Great One,” Dobby replied. “And it do be helping people. Just look at Colin Creevy’s not gay brother; he is now with the pretty twin from Ravenclaw. And hairy former roommate of Harry Potter sir is with blonde tramp and pretty twin from Gryffindor at the same time. It do be helping everybody!
“But Dobby knows that Harry Potter sir and The Great One do be humble, which makes them even more greater, so Dobby be delivering the Pensieves in secret.”
Harry and Hermione shared a look. They both knew that Dobby had no real clue about the damage he had caused. Clearly, Dobby knew he was in trouble for some reason judging by Harry and Hermione’s mood, but the creature had no understanding as to why. To him, he had done a great deed in Harry and Hermione’s names by sharing the Pensieves with everyone. And if Harry or Hermione tried to explain that Dobby had done something bad, the elf would surely punish himself in a terrible manner. There was a good chance that Dobby would hurt himself irrevocably. If Dobby had shared the Pensieves knowing what they would do to Harry and Hermione’s reputation, then the couple would not have been overtly distraught over the notion over punishment. But since Dobby had done it out of innocent naivete, any sort of self-punishment would be harsh. So, Harry took time to carefully consider what he would say to Dobby so that the elf would not harm himself.
“Um, Dobby, that was a very nice thing,” Harry said slowly. “But from now on, Hermione and I would like our time together to be private. That means you can’t pass the Pensieves that you made around anymore. And you can’t watch us be intimate together.”
“Yes, Harry Potter sir,” the elf squeaked. “But Harry Potter sir, can Dobby be watching the Pensieve Dobby already made if Dobby can’t be watching Harry Potter sir and The Great One do naughty things?”
“Um, Hermione?” Harry asked and turned to his girlfriend. The young man was quite surprised to see that Hermione wasn’t looking at Dobby but at Harry himself. Her eyes were dark with lust and she was biting her lip. Knowing that look meant that their forced time of “no sex” was about to end within seconds, Harry said dismissively to Dobby, “Sure, knock yourself out. Watch them as many times as you like.”
Dobby trotted to his little room and the instant the cupboard door closed, Hermione pounced on Harry. There was no kissing, no caressing or any foreplay to speak of. The only clothing that was removed was Hermione’s slacks – and they weren’t even removed completely, the garment dangled from one of her ankles. Harry was still wearing his robes, pullover, slacks, socks and shoes whereas Hermione was wearing two sets of robes, a blouse, skirt, and loafers. Harry’s zipper was opened and Hermione’s knickers were pushed to the side to reveal her flower a scant moment before Harry plunged into her.
If someone had been watching – which luckily this time, no one was – they would have assumed that Hermione and Harry were in a fight to the death. And that the witch was winning the battle. She had the wizard pinned under her and was thrusting her hips forcibly onto his lap. Loud smacks and grunts echoed off the walls. Evidentially, Hermione rather liked this action because she climaxed a few minutes after starting.
“Oh, fuck, Iforgot something,” Hermione groaned as she continuously pounded herself on Harry. While thrusting up and down rapidly, the witch fumbled through the pockets of her outer robe. “Don’t cum yet,” she ordered and began to search blindly through her inner robe’s pockets.
“Hurry up,” Harry pleaded. His body was begging for release and he was about to lose control any second.
Finally, Hermione retrieved her wand. She tapped it against her lower belly and incanted “Inaedifico.” After she had properly cast the Anti-Conception Charm, Hermione said “You can cum now.”
“It’s not a command sort of thing, really,” Harry groaned out. “I can’t just will myself to cum.”
“I meant it’s all right to cum now,” she clarified breathily and Harry grunted as if one cue. Hermione’s face lit up.
“That was fun,”she purred.
“Round two,” Harry said and rolled over, dragging Hermione to the floor so that he was now on top. Instantly, he began thrusting into her,
“OH -that’s – OH – my – WOW – virile – RIGHT THERE – man!” Hermione cheered.
“I haven’t had sex in days,” he grunted like a wild animal. “I figure I have at least another round or two in me.”
Harry tugged and pulled at Hermione’s robes and top. After a few moments, he finally tore open her blouse only to reveal “TWO BRAS!”
“I’m sorry – UH – I was – OH – worried about the pervert,” Hermione explained between thrusts.
“Damn it,” hissed Harry as he tugged at the lacy bra that covered the cotton one. “I want to give ‘Natasha’ a kiss.”
“‘Natasha’? Wait, did – HOMMINA – you name my titties?” she asked throatily while Harry fumbled with her unmentionables.
“Your nipples, actually,” he admitted without shame. “This one,” he said, indicating her other breast, “is ‘Carmella’.”
“Did – OH – you – MAMA – name my muff?” she asked as Harry finally freed ‘Natasha’ from its lace and cotton prison.
Realizing that he only referred to her vagina by its technical name or ‘flower,’ Harry answered with a simple “No,” while suckling on Hermione’s boob.
“UH – name – OH SHAG ME SILLY- my – SO FUCKING NICE – muff – NOW!”
After commenting internally to himself at how very vocal his girlfriend was, Harry pondered over her request. Should he give it another feminine name? Then he remembered that the House Elves called it ‘The Bald Feline’in worship. And Harry rather liked going down on aforementioned body part. So, he combined his love of eating Hermione out and ‘The Bald Feline’ and came up with the perfect name “Miss Nibbles.”
Hermione seemed to appreciate the new name for she called out in a significantly loud voice; “POUND ‘MISS NIBBLES’ WITH YOUR COCK!”
“Please, if you call it ‘Miss Nibbles’ I must insist you call my ‘cock’ ‘Harry, Jr.’,”corrected Harry.
“POUND ‘MISS NIBBLES’ WITH ‘HARRY, JR.’!” rectified Hermione. It was, after all, the proper phrasing for the situation.
A short while later, Hermione cried out her ubiquitous “OH SWEET BABY MAEVE!” and Harry congratulated himself on his prowess a second before he himself came. Having played twice in a row, ‘Harry, Jr.’ was beginning to fall asleep. As his organ softened, Hermione looked up at Harry with a mad twinkle in her eyes and said, “If you’re up for another go, you can bugger me.”
With the word”bugger” ‘Harry, Jr.’ sprang to life- quite literally; it rose so quickly that it jerked inside Hermione.
“Oooh, I’ll take that to mean that you’re ready,” she said coyly. Gingerly, Hermione removed herself from Harry and began to undress. “I’ve done some research on anal sex,” she began.
“Of course you have,” Harry joked, knowing that Hermione never did anything without proper research.
She spent the next few minutes explaining what they had to do. Harry nodded his head at each point: cleaning, lubricating, and stretching. ‘Harry, Jr.’ too nodded its head at each point. Now that the plan was set, Hermione moved herself so that she was on her hands and knees. Harry used his wand to cleanse her entrance (to which Hermione gave out a surprised yelp) and conjured some clear lubricant. Next, he coated his forefinger and Hermione’shole with the lubricant, spreading the slippery liquid while gently stretching her open. Then Harry slid in a second finger. That was when Hermione began to rock back and forth. Harry watched in wide-eyed fascination as Hermione writhed and groaned in pleasure.
“And just think, you told me once that we’d never do this,” he commented.
“I was such afool,” she groaned out. “Now keep stretching me out, I want you inside me.”
Two or three minutes later, Harry felt it was ready to move on to the real deal. Slowly, ever so slowly, Harry pushed into her tight hole. He closed his eyes and marveled in the sensation of her heat and tightness. Inch by inch, he forced himself in. Finally, when he was completely inside of her, Harry opened his eyes.
Hermione’s skin was a florescent red and she was trembling all over. Harry could tell that she was also holding her breath.
“Are you okay?” he asked; ready to pull out if she said she wasn’t.
“Oh – FUCK YES!!”she screamed out.
“Don’t forget to breathe,” he commanded, relieved that not only was his girlfriend all right, but that he could continue to bugger her.
“Call me a dirty slut who likes to be bum-shagged,” she commanded in response.
“Okay, just don’t forget to breathe, you dirty slut who likes to be bum-shagged.”
To say that Hermione enjoyed the activity would be a dreadful understatement. She cried out “Sweet baby Maeve!” twice in aloud voice; pronouncing each syllable clearly. The third time was a little less coherent and sounded something like”Seat Maybe Pave.” The fourth was just nonsense and syllables strung together. Harry assumed that she was drooling profusely at that point. He couldn’t confirm this because Hermione, obviously, was facing away from him. At first, he believed that it wouldn’t be polite to ask her if he was shagging her so well that she was drooling – one didn’t ask a woman such things. Then, he realized that he had his willy jabbed into her bum and therefore politeness was moot; so he asked.
“Is my dirty slut who likes to be bum-shagged drooling?”
The only response Harry got was a noise akin to someone blowing spit bubbles and happy moans. The last thought Harry had before his own ecstasy claimed him was ‘Damn, I’m good.’
~*~
It took Hermione two whole days to stop walking with a limp. The silly smile plastered on her face didn’t wane for three. On the fourth day, as they ate breakfast in the Great Hall, Ron bemoaned the fact that his nemesis, Draco Malfoy, would be returning in just three days.
“This bloody sucks,” he cursed and speared a kipper angrily.
“Harry told me that McGonagall reassured him that Malfoy’s changed,” Hermione said. It was clear that she barely believed the words herself.
Harry recalled that McGonagall took a great deal of amusement over the notion that Draco had changed. Remembering the Headmistress’saucy wink, Harry shivered in fear of what she had meant by that statement.
The morning post and Daily Prophets were carried into the Great Hall. As she read one of her text books, Hermione absentmindedly paid the owl that had dropped a copy of the Daily Prophet at her plate.
“Hey Harry, Hermione, my Mum and Dad have invited you two to the Burrow for Christmas,”announced Ron.
“Um, well, I was thinking about spending it with my parents this year,” Hermione replied. “It seems like I never spend any time with them ever.”
Hoping to avoid being invited to going with Hermione to her parents, Harry pointed at the folded Daily Prophet and asked “Are you going to read that?”
“No, not just yet,” she replied. “You can have it.”
After snatching the paper and unfolding it, Harry smiled, happy that he had avoided an invitation. But the moment he read the headline, Harry’s heart sank.
“Death Eaters Attack St. Mungo’s
A team of seven masked Death Eaters raided and sacked the wizarding hospital St. Mungo’s late last night. No one was severally injured during the attack, but the minions of He Who Must Not Be Named made off with a large supply of healing potions from the hospital’s storage.
An anonymous informant from the Ministry has speculated off record that YouKnow Who and his followers may have stolen the potions for an upcoming large scale battle.”
“Something has to be done,” Harry said morosely.
“What is it?” the brunette witch asked, fearing the worst.
Harry handed her the paper. She read it quickly, her face a mask of dread. But for some indiscernible reason, her appearance suddenly brightened. She smiled knowingly at Harry and said “Oh, something will be done. Don’t worry, Harry.”
“What do you have planned?” he asked.
“You’ll see,” she answered cryptically. “It will all depend on the outcome of an errand I’ll have to run during lunch. But if everything works out, ‘something will be done,’ trust me.”
Hermione refused to elaborate on her plan. Later, as the couple was making their way to the Great Hall for lunch after morning lessons, Hermione kissed Harry on the cheek and said, “I’m off to run that errand.”
“You want me to come with you?” he asked. “I can help.”
“No, I think it will be better if I go alone,” she said and waved her hand. “See you in a bit.”
Without another word Hermione dashed down the corridor heading for the castle’s door. Curious about what his girlfriend was up to, Harry continued on to the Great Hall. He was quite surprised when he entered the Great Hall. There, sitting at the Gryffindor table with Ron and Luna, was Hermione. Furrowing his brow in confusion, Harry sat next to his girlfriend and asked, “Weren’t you supposed to run some secret errand?”
“I’ve done it and come back already,” she informed him.
“How could you have? I just left you about a minute ago.”
“That can’t be, Harry,” Luna said in a detached way while she scooped some of her food from her plate to Ron’s thereby saving her husband from having to nick food from her plate. “Ronald and I got here early and Hermione was waiting for us. And we’ve been here now for at least five minutes.”
Harry looked at Hermione in bewilderment. In response, the brunette witch smiled and winked at him. “You’ll understand tonight,” she said coyly.
Harry couldn’t focus on his afternoon lessons. His mind kept wandering to what errand Hermione had done and how it would help retaliate against Voldemort. As if to irritate Harry even further, Hermione refused to even acknowledge that she had even run an errand.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Harry,” she had said during dinner with a naughty smile. “Ron and Luna told you I was here in the Great Hall the entire time.”
That night, after supper, Harry and Hermione entered their chambers.
“Are you going to tell me what you did today?” he asked.
“Oh, you’ll see,”she said with a devious smirk.
Before he could ask any further questions, Hermione trotted into the bathroom. Harry shook his head. ‘That girl’s aching for a spanking,’ he thought to himself.
A pungent smell caught Harry’s attention. He followed his nose to the spare bedroom and opened the door. He found Hermione standing over a simmering cauldron.
“Wait, how did you get in here?” he asked, deeply confused. “I just saw you enter the loo.”
“Surely I had to pee,” she said off-handedly and poured a pink liquid into the cauldron. “I do that from time to time.”
“But I didn’t see you leave the loo,” he protested.
“What can I tell you, I’m quick,” she replied casually. “Now leave, this is complicated and I can’t have you messing it up by distracting me.”
Harry walked out and closed the door. The moment the door snapped shut, he heard it lock magically. Wondering why she was being so mysterious, Harry sat on the couch and contemplated what Hermione was doing.
It had something to do with the Death Eater attack they had read about this morning. Hermione had told him that she had to run an errand but he found out that she didn’t because she was waiting for him in the Great Hall. And now she was brewing some kind of potion.
A half hour later, Hermione came out of the bathroom. Harry was about to ask how she left the spare room and entered the bathroom without him seeing her, but her attire – or the lack of attire – drove that question from his mind. The witch had slowly strolled out of the loo wearing nothing but a scarlet colored scarf wound around her eyes like a blind fold.
“I happen to be the luckiest bloke in the world,” Harry beamed. Joyous thoughts about how kinky Hermione was swirled through his head. Perhaps he’d bind her hands, give her a good spanking, and then make love to her. “I have such an adventurous girlfriend.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Hermione said but her lips didn’t move. Harry blinked, confused. Not only did she not move her mouth, but the voice was coming from inside the spare bedroom.
“Did you just throw your voice?” he asked.
“I didn’t say anything,” Hermione said, this time her lips moved with the words. She pointed to the spare bedroom and added”She was the one who spoke.”
Just then, another person walked out of the room. Harry’s eyes bulged in wonder. The person looked exactly like Hermione, same hair, same jaw, same breasts, same shaved Miss Nibbles. The only difference was the second witch was wearing a green blindfold.
Blindly, the green-blindfolded Hermione walked up to the one wearing a scarlet scarf. Her hands fumbled a bit before cupping the other girl’s face. Slowly, the two identical looking witches kissed. It was a soft and gentle kiss, but far from innocent.
“Wow, I’m a good kisser,” scarlet scarf Hermione commented.
“Then you’ll like this,” the green scarf Hermione said and began kissing her doppelganger once again. But this time the witches obviously became more comfortable, their tongues came into play. Harry could see one girl’s tongue slide into the other’s mouth. That was enough to send Harry over the edge. The image of seeing his naked girlfriend kiss another witch who looked exactly like her (especially the naked bit) made the wizard lose control. With a primal grunt, Harry fell off the couch and came down his leg.
“What just happened?” scarlet-Hermione asked.
“He just shot his load down his trouser-leg,” the green replied. “Thank goodness I made plenty of stamina and virility potions.”
“Wh-what’s going on?” Harry asked.
“That errand I ran today was to fetch a Time Turner. I went to the Ministry and got one. Actually, Igot it through a time paradox, but you’ll see,” Hermione replied. “I figured that I’ll just use the Time Turner to make duplicates of myself, in a fashion.”
“Not duplicates really,” the green-Hermione corrected. “I just happen to be a future version of you.”
“True,” agreed scarlet-Hermione. “But ‘duplicate’ is easier to say than ‘my future self,’ especially since our mouths will be busy in a moment. We don’t want to waste time by saying ‘future self’ when ‘duplicate’ is much more time saving.”
Normally, Harry wouldn’t bother to ask the reasoning behind Hermione’s decision, particularly seeing that the outcome meant he just got to watch Hermione tongue-kiss herself, but curiosity got the best of him. “How? What? Why?”
“The ‘Morgy Ritual,'” scarlet replied. “With the Time Turner, I can make duplicates of myself. That way we can have multiple partners and perform the ritual without asking another couple to join us.”
“Yes, and Ialready drew the symbol and identified the targets as people bearing the Dark Mark,” green added. “So all we have to do now is have some fun.”
“Why are you wearing blindfolds?” Harry asked. He was honestly surprised that he could form coherent sentences at that moment. “Is it some sort of Paradox thing? You can’t see your past self or something?”
“Well, that’s one reason,” scarlet answered.
“That and I, or rather we happen to be very kinky,” green added.
“So… I get to have sex… with both of you… at the same time?” he asked in a near delirious state. “Manage a three-way,” Harry muttered in absolute awe at the sight in front of him; two versions of Hermione, one wearing a scarlet blindfold and the other green, standing shoulder to shoulder.
“That’s menage a trios, Harry,” green blindfolded Hermione corrected.
“Actually, bump that up one,” Hermione’s voice came from the bedroom shortly before a third copy of the brunette witch strolled out. She adjusted her yellow blindfold before taking her place next to her two doppelgangers.
Harry’s head started to spin slightly. To him, this could not get any better. Then a fourth Hermione, this one wearing a blue blindfold, walked out of the bedroom.
“Oh-my-God,” Harry half groan, half whimpered. His green eyes, which were sparkling in delight, shot from one Hermione to the next. “Two… four… six… eight… eight titties!”
“He can still count,” commented blue-Hermione. “That’s a good sign that we haven’t given him an aneurism… yet.”
“Eight titties,”repeated Harry.
“Are you saying we’re going to give Harry an aneurism?” scarlet Hermione asked her future selves.
“Eight titties; that means eight nipples. Four ‘Carmella’s and four ‘Natasha’s. Eight!”Harry cheered and a bit of drool dribbled out of the corner of his mouth.
“Make that ten,” a very familiar voice called out from the bathroom. This time, a Hermione wearing a purple blindfold walked out. But before she took her place with her identical peers, a sixth Hermione with a white blind fold sauntered out and announced “Actually, twelve titties.”
As a Hermione with a white blindfold walked out of the bedroom, scarlet Hermione commented “Five copies? Did I get that daring to have six of us?”
“Yes, I figured why stop at just four of us,” white-Hermione said, “or five for that matter.”
“Besides, you’ll need the extra help soon,” green-Hermione added.
“What do you mean?”asked scarlet. “I made plenty of stamina and virility potions, but I think that five of us could handle one Harry.”
“You’ll see,” one of her future selves answered.
“Let’s have some fun,” white-Hermione said. Blindly she grabbed green and blue’s hands and led them to Harry who was still sitting on the ground. She arranged her copies around Harry so that one was on either side of him and one was in the front. Then, as if they had planned it, all three Hermiones leaned forward, pressing their breasts into Harry’s face. The poor boy was suffocating in breasts. He thought “What a wonderful way to die; choking on boobs.”
“He doesn’t need avirility potion just yet,” one of the three smothering Harry said. “I can feel his willypressing on my calf.”
“Girls, girls, back up,” one Hermione from across the room requested. “I want Harry to see this.”
As the wall of breasts that had covered Harry’s face parted, he caught a much more spectacular view. Sitting on the couch, with her legs spread wide, was scarlet Hermione. Propped up next to her was yellow Hermione. The yellow blindfolded version’s hand trailed up the scarlet witch’s thigh toward her snatch. It was the next second that Harry’s heart stopped beating.
“It’s kind of like masturbating,” yellow commented as another of her fingers came into play. “I mean this is my vagina technically speaking.”
“Someone take care of Harry, the poor boy’s about to blow up,” one Hermione suggested.
“Does it have to be ‘someone’?” blue asked, placing extra emphasis on the ‘one.’
Blue and green Hermione got down on all fours and placed their faces over Harry’s engorged organ.
“today is the happiest day of my life” Harry squeaked in an incredibly tiny voice. Harry proved how manly he was by lasting a whole forty-two and three quarter seconds before cumming for the second time. It was truly a manly act seeing how he was watching one version of Hermione stimulate another version while two others licked and suckled his bits.
“Did you just swallow?”blue asked green.
“Yes, I did,”green replied.
“That was very rude,” blue chastised. “Next time, share.”
“Someone mentioned stamina potions,” mumbled Harry. It seemed that he had very poor control over his motor functions and speaking was difficult.
“Yes, Harry, there’s a bunch in the spare bedroom,” three Hermionesanswered in unison.
As Harry staggered and stumbled to the bedroom, he overheard one Hermione comment “Hmmm… I wonder what ‘Miss Nibbles’ tastes like?”followed very quickly by another Hermione yelping in surprise.
The young wizard held his hands on the sides of his head like blinders. He knew that if he saw what he thought was happening behind him, he’d most likely die from pure joy. Although it would be a nice way to go, he’d rather last a bit longer. Perhaps even be between the two versions of Hermione while they did what he thought they were doing. Hell, he’d like to give them pointers. Yes, he reasoned, dieing while participating would be a much better way to go than just watching.
But to be able to participate more, he’d need that stamina potion. ‘Harry, Jr.’, despite the ample amounts of naked Hermionesencouraging him, was fast asleep. Obviously the things he had just seen and having received head from two Hermiones was just too much for the member. Also the thought of pleasuring six Hermiones was intimidating. So Harry needed as much help as he could muster.
Lying on the table next to the cauldron were three dozen small bottles containing a bright red liquid. Clearly these were the stamina and virility potions that Hermione had made. Harry quickly gulped downed one bottle and was about to head out the door when a glimmer of light caught his eye.
He found a tiny gold Time Turner sitting on the table just behind the bottles of potion. Harry smiled as a devious thought occurred to him. If Hermione could use the magical device to make duplicates of herself, so could he.
Much like one of the reasons Hermione had donned a blind fold – besides being kinky – Harry didn’t want to tempt a paradox, so he decided to wear a blind fold as well. He found an old school robe lying over a chair and quickly tore off a length of it. After wrapping it around his eyes, he reminded himself to use the Time Turner sometime in the future, perhaps in the morning, and return to this time. Just then, Harry heard a pop.
“Hi, Harry,” a masculine voice greeted him. “It’s me, Harry, from about nine hours in the future.”
Another pop and someone announced “I from twenty hours in the future.”
Another two pops sounded, one after the other. Then the cupboard in the corner of the room creaked open.
“Don’t remove your blindfolds,” another Harry commanded. “I’m from a few days in the future. I sort of helped Hermione get the Time Turner.”
“Really, how’d you do that?” the current time Harry asked.
“You’ll see,” the other replied. “I’ve been hiding in this cupboard, waiting for you blokes to show up.”
“Well now that you’re all here, let’s go ravish some Hermiones,” one Harry cheered.
Harry felt a tap on his shoulder followed by a suggestion in his own voice “Let’s double team one of them?”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“You know, two blokes, one bird, no waiting,” he answered.
“Do you think she’ll mind?” the current time Harry asked.
In response, all the other versions of Harry laughed uproariously.
“All right, everybody take a dose of the potion,” one ordered. “We’ve got a lot of witches out there and we need to be ready for repeat performances.”
After a bit of fumbling and a few bottles clinking together, everyone was ready. Harry knew this because someone was poking him in the side and it wasn’t with their finger. “Do you mind? Budge up.”
“Okay, we’re all ready?”
“Yeah,” was the chorused answer.
“Then let’s do this for justice!”
“Wait, ‘justice’?” one asked. “What do you mean?”
“We’re performing the Morgy Ritual,” another answered. “We’re inflicting pain on Death Eaters.”
“Oh, I thought we were doing this for mad sex.”
“Good point.”
“Okay… let’s do this for justice and mad sex!”
With that battle cry, the multiple Harrys charged out of the room(Harry heard one or two of his counterparts bang into walls).
“It’s about time you got out here,” one Hermione stated. “Some of us started without you.”
“Hermione, uh, the Hermione with the scarlet blindfold, that is., remember when I said you’d need the extra help of five copies,” another Hermione said. “Well, you’re about to find out first hand just what I meant.”
What followed was a loud and rambunctious, almost chaotic, orgy. Bodies pressed against one another. Fumbling limbs and screaming orgasm.
The current Harry was able to fulfill one of the future Harry’s suggestion of “double teaming” a Hermione. Current Harry was on the bottom (and in the bottom), future Harry was on the top, and Hermione was sandwiched between (and Harry guessed that it was the current time’s Hermione because of the future Hermione’s playful warning about needing the extra help). And Harry understood now why his future selves laughed when he asked if Hermione would mind. The witch was shouting loudly the word “Yippie” and the phrase “Oh Fuck Yes!” repeatedly.
“Now, this is how you properly share,” one Hermione stated a few minutes later. This version of the brunette witch sounded as if she was holding something, perhaps a kind of liquid, in her mouth.
“Yum, thanks. Now I see what you were saying,” a different Hermione, who also sounded like she now had something in her mouth, said.
When everyone had climaxed (which gave the room a peculiar aroma), one Hermione asked; “Wait asecond, how many Harrys are there?”
“Dunno,” a Harry, one who sounded like he was somewhere near the end of the couch, replied. “Lost count.”
“All right then, sound off,” she demanded. “Count yourselves.”
“One,” the first Harry called out.
“Two.”
“Three.”
“Four.”
“Five.”
“Six,” a final Harry called out.
“Okay there are six of each of us,” concluded one Hermione.
“Um, actually, there are seven Harrys,” another Harry announced. “When everybody was counting off, I had my mouth full.”
“Damn right you did,”another Hermione said in a breathy and satisfied voice.
“Fine then, that makes thirteen of us all together,” one Hermione stated.
“And the ritual only listed the effects up to six participants,” another Hermione picked up. “I added another ‘me’ just to give it a little boost.”
“And if six participants meant the targets felt as if they were on fire and there are thirteen of us…” a third Hermione continued.
“That means the Death Eaters must be begging for mercy right now,” a fourth concluded.
“Well, I know everyone here will be disappointed, but thanks to the stamina potion, I have another go left in me,” one Harry announced with mock concern. “Damn thing won’t go down.”
“Oh, no, so do I,”another Harry stated. “Lousy erection.”
“Me too,” a third fake pouted. “It’s just sitting there throbbing away.”
“Me three. Oh, what can we do?”
“Aren’t you other four going to add anything?” a Hermione asked the darkness. “Perhaps some crude comment about being ahuman ring-toss or hat-stand?”
“One of them isn’t verbally telling me he has another shag left in him,”one Hermione grunted happily. “He’s showing me; and quite admirably at that.”
“Hey, Hermione, you have something in your mouth,” one Harry pointed out. To which the Hermione he was speaking to responded:
“No I don’t-gth mumh ghiz,”she sputtered as if something had been pushed rapidly into her mouth.
“You boys be careful and check your aim,” one Hermione offered. “You don’t want to poke the wrong person.”
As if on cue, one Harry shouted “Ow, damn it. Watch out.”
“Sorry,” another Harry apologized.
“Try going a foot to your left.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s it!” a Hermione cheered. “Dead on target!”
“Thanks for the suggestion,” one Harry said to the other. “I think I found it.”
MultipleHarrys, multiple, Hermiones, and multiple orgasms. Overall, it was a very good night.
~*~
All over the British Isles that night, screams were heard. And not just from the Head Students’quarters.

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