by Harry Potter
“What d’you mean?”
“It appears that they wake up one day and believe their experiences in the other dimension are just a dream and they forget every thing they had learned!” Hermione declared in disgust, and pushed the heavy tome off the table which landed on the floor with a thud. “I have just wasted the past four hours!
“Damnit!” Harry shouted and stood up. He began pacing back and forth while unconsciously trying to readjust himself. Luckily, Harry had had his back toward Hermione when this happened.
“Well, we’ll just have to cram, study as much as humanly possible,” Hermione stated and Harry coughed. Her definition of ‘humanly possible’ was completely different than Harry’s. Or any other human Harry had ever met. “But we’re probably going to have to stay here at the castle; it does have the most extensive library in Europe, after all. I’ll ask McGonagall in the morning if we can stay.”
Harry continued to pace and adjust; this time right in front of Hermione.
“Harry, how close were you?” Hermione asked, noticing her friend’s discomfort.
“To what?” asked Harry.
“How close were you to... um... climaxing?” Hermione added with a slight blush.
“Wha... wha... what?” Harry stuttered in shock at the directness of Hermione’s question. “How what to what-what-ing?”
“Earlier today, how close were you to... well, cumming?” Hermione smiled as she felt her face heat up.
“Well... I... ah... um...” Harry sighed and forced himself to drop his embarrassment. “Let’s just say one more stroke and I would’ve been a happy man.”
“One stroke! You were that close?” Hermione asked, a bit shocked herself. “Oh, you poor thing, it must be terribly uncomfortable for you.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Harry waving her concern off. “I just need some ‘alone-time’ to take care of it.”
Biting her lip, Hermione stood up and walked over to Harry. She took his hands in hers, and without saying a word, led him to the empty spot on the table when the discarded heavy tome once was.
“Sit,” Hermione commanded.
“Hermione, you don’t have to,” Harry said as he felt the blood leave his upper brain. He then added under his breath; “That is, if you don’t want to.”
“Ever the gentleman, Mr. Potter,” Hermione said. “Now, sit!”
Harry sat on the hard desk and felt ‘Harry, Jr.’ begin to stir. Hermione cupped Harry’s face and kissed his lips. It wasn’t as frantic or desperate as their kisses were earlier in the day, but it was far more stimulating and more passionate. His lips burned as their mouths played with each other. He could taste her on his tongue, and it was intoxicating. His hand traveled up from her hip and caressed her breast through the fabric of her blouse and bra. Damn blouse! God-Damn Bra!
Hermione’s hands also traveled, but they traveled south whereas Harry’s had gone north. Her hands stopped to playfully tweak his nipples. Harry felt aroused, and a pang of jealousy brought on by the pinch of Hermione’s fingers: ‘If she can play with my nipples, why can’t I play with hers? Lousy Damn blouse! Lousy God-Damn Bra!’
It was at this moment that ‘Harry, Jr.’ completely woke up. He started shouting, “Hey, hey, what about me? Don’t forget about me! I’m right down here!”
It was as if Hermione had heard the organ’s pleas. Her hands left Harry’s chest, and in a few deft moves, freed ‘Harry, Jr.’. Suddenly, as she gripped his member, Hermione stopped kissing Harry. He was about to ask her why she had stopped kissing him, when his upper brain shut down due to Hermione’s next action. She knelt in front of him. The only cognitive thought in Harry’s mind was, ‘Eep!’
The frizzy-haired witch leaned forward and tentatively licked ‘Harry, Jr.’. He gripped the edge of the table and let out a low moan. Once again, ‘Harry, Jr.’ shed a tear of joy.
“I’ve heard Lavender and Parvati talk about this, but I’ve never done it,” Hermione said as she gently stroked ‘Harry, Jr.’. “So tell me if I’m not doing it properly.”
Harry had never had this happen to him, so he had no experience in it either. But with the little experience he just received, he felt fairly confident when he asked Hermione, “There’s an improper way to do it?”
“Yes, there is. I could use my teeth,” she replied while smiling up at him.
“Point taken.”
The first thing Hermione did lick his shaft like it was an Iced Lolly. Harry tired to act manly and not to say any thing stupid or make funny sounds, but he failed spectacularly: “Yippie!” he cried out like a jubilant child. Hermione paused while licking the length of his shaft for the second time. She gave Harry her best “I can’t believe you just said that” look. Of course, this wasn’t her typical “I can’t believe you just said that” look because she had her tongue pressed firmly on the underside of his organ and ‘Harry, Jr.’ was hovering right between her eyes. “Sorry...” Harry muttered apologetically, “I got lost in the moment.”
“That’s fine,” stated Hermione. “I was just wondering if you considered this...” she licked his member once more for demonstration before continuing: “‘Yippie’ worthy what will you say when I do this?”
Hermione enveloped the tip of ‘Harry, Jr.’ into her mouth. She suckled on it and her tongue playfully batted the crown. Harry redoubled his efforts not to say anything stupid or make silly sounds and again, he failed spectacularly. He groaned out “Oh, Mamma!”
Hermione halted her ministrations and looked up at Harry in a disproving manner. “Let’s not talk about Ginny now.”
“Hermione!” gasped Harry. He was completely disgusted at Hermione’s comment. Did she actually believe that he was thinking about Ginny, the girl who looked like his mum, while Hermione was going down on him? Fortunately ‘Harry, Jr.’ wasn’t listening to the on-going banter; it was if the organ had stuck imaginary fingers in imaginary ears while chanting in an imaginary sing-song voice “La la la! I’m not listening to you talk about that red-head bird! Get back to giving me that glorious bath!”
“Relax, Harry I’m just teasing you,” she said with a sassy grin on her face. Before Harry could respond, Hermione placed her lips around his organ once more. However, she did not stop at enveloping his crown, this time she began to bob her head up and down on his shaft while her tongue twirled this way and that over his sensitive flesh. Hermione’s deliciously warm mouth was beyond description. Her saliva coated his manhood as her tongue and lips traced every bump and vein on Harry’s shaft. Harry’s vision became blurred and his breathing labored in a short matter of time. His hands found their way into Hermione’s hair as she bobbed her head up and down rhythmically on ‘Harry, Jr.’. Just when Harry couldn’t conceive how the sensation could get any better, Hermione started humming a jaunty little tune. It was quite possible that Harry had started to gurgle out of pleasure.
Normally, when a man was in the situation that Harry was in, he wouldn’t have cared to notice what tune the woman was humming. But it was a familiar tune that had burned into Harry’s mind at an early age. It was from a film that his aunt had made him watch over and over when he was a child because the insipid Dudley liked it so. A little girl with very curly hair was the star, and the song that Hermione was humming while performing fellatio on Harry was sung by that little girl in the film. Harry couldn’t remember the entire song or the title (right now he was having trouble remembering to breathe), but he did remember one bit in particular. This bit of the song played over and over in his head as Hermione continued at her task.
“On the (something)-(something) lollipop, it’s a sweet trip to a candy shop. Where the bon-bons play, on the sunny beach...”
Harry tried desperately to get the asinine, childish song out of his head and concentrate on more important things. Things like Hermione going down on him! Damn Aunt Petunia for making him watch a movie with such a stupid song...
Then Harry felt the build up and shortly thereafter, the release. With a gr
unt and groan, Harry became a happy man, a very happy man as he shot his seed into Hermione’s mouth. However, Hermione wasn’t a happy woman. On the contrary, she was very unhappy. She spent the next several minutes coughing, gagging, and spitting into a waste bin. In-between various gags, coughs, and spits, she would hiss at Harry menacingly; “Next time... warn me!”
The two teens left the library and headed to the Gryffindor Common Room, only speaking once in a while. And then only talking politely about trivial and inconsequential things. After they said their ‘good-nights,’ Harry felt a bit guilty about Hermione’s discomfort; next time he would warn her so it wouldn’t happen again. Harry immediately felt hope spring up in his chest, ‘Next time!’ Hermione had clearly used the phrase “next time!” Chapter Three Summary: Harry and Hermione spend time studying... and they happen to read a book or two as well
Harry woke up the next day to birds singing a happy song. Of course the effing birds were singing happily; the sun had just risen, and they, being creatures that loved rising early, sang with all their hearts to the morning sun.
The effing birds had interrupted a dream. Normally, Harry would be overjoyed at the concept of having his traditional dreams interrupted. However, this was a particularly good dream; Harry and Hermione were romping around again, and this time, he was about to see Hermione’s boobs without her Lousy Damn Blouse and her God-Damn Lousy Bra. Even though it was just a dream, Harry was going to see what Hermione’s nipples looked like. It was a thought that had been plaguing his mind since yesterday, when he fondled her breasts through her God-Damn Lousy Bra. And even though he was not really going to see what Hermione’s nipples looked like, he was at least going to see dream-Hermione’s nipples. But no, the effing birds had to wake him up from his wonderful wet-dream by starting a fucking tweet fest!
Harry woke with a pitiful groan and tried to shield his eyes from the blinding rays of the sun. Getting out of bed, he resisted the temptation to open his window and fire of a couple of Stunners in hopes of hitting some of the effing birds. So Harry satisfied his urge to cause the effing birds some discomfort by stretching out one of his arms and gave a two-fingered salute to all birds in general. After his shower, he trounced down to the common room and his sour mood suddenly vanished.
The cause for Harry’s foul mindset’s disappearance was sitting on her favorite couch reading a book: Hermione. The early morning sunlight shined through her hair, giving her the appearance of an angel with a glowing halo. Harry felt a sudden warmth travel through his body as he saw his friend; the friend that he now realized was quite beautiful in his eyes. He noticed that he had a bounce to his step, and tried to correct it before Hermione saw him; real men don’t bounce, real men strut. Harry had learned this important fact from the late night conversations with his dorm mates about the fairer sex and what they liked; he was told with certainty that women like a manly strut, among other things such as flowers, chocolates, and other “girly” things. He had listened closely to Dean and Seamus when they described how real men walked. As he bounced in an un- manly way toward Hermione, he tried to strut the way his friends had described. Unfortunately, he was unable to completely counteract the bounce with his emerging strutting abilities and ended up with a saunter. But in Harry’s defense, it was a manly saunter, not the effeminate way Blaise Zabini pranced.
“Morning, Hermione,” Harry greeted the witch with an incredibly silly grin plastered on his face.
“Good morning, Harry,” she returned the greeting with an equally smitten smile.
“About last night...” began Harry while he shoved his hands in his pockets to hide how nervous he was. “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you about... you know.”
“It’s okay, Harry. It was the first time for both of us,” Hermione replied and patted the seat next to her. Harry took the invitation and the two teens cuddled. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”
The couple proceeded to have a nice fifteen-minute snog session where they playfully explored each other’s bodies. Harry was even so bold to open Hermione’s blouse. Unfortunately she was wearing a white cotton bra so he still didn’t get to see what her nipples looked like. But this didn’t stop him playing with her boobs mind you. He gently, yet insistently, kneaded her lovely breasts like a kitten might knead a stuffed animal before using it as a sleep bed. It was an activity that Harry had quickly become quite fond of; he loved how her mounds felt in his hands and he loved the way Hermione moaned and purred as he cupped, squeezed, caressed, kissed, licked, and suckled on them, even through the accursed bra. During the snog and boob fondling session, ‘Harry, Jr.’ stirred only a little, apparently the appendage was still worn-out from the very welcomed workout it received the previous evening.
After both teens had become completely flushed, Hermione pulled away and suggested, “We should really go and see McGonagall,” she stated, her lips red and puffy. “We have to ask her if we can stay in the castle.”
“Are you sure she’ll be up this early?” asked Harry as they walked hand in hand to the Headmistress’ office.
“I’m positive,” answered Hermione. The couple walked up to the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to McGonagall’s new quarters.
“Would you please tell the Headmistress we would like to see her?” Hermione requested of the stone sentinel.
“I’ll go fetch her,” the statue grumbled. After a moment or two, the gargoyle stepped to the side, and McGonagall rushed out into the hallway while trying to put on her dressing robe and brandishing her wand at the same time.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” the Headmistress demanded on the verge of panic.
“Nothing’s wrong, ma’am,” Hermione said, “We just wanted to ask you a question.”
“But the gargoyle told me it was an emergency!” McGonagall practically shouted. “He said that Potter was spewing blood from his mouth!”
Behind them, the gargoyle let out a grumbling chuckle.
“Oh, you cheeky bugger!” McGonagall cursed. “That’s the third time this week he’s pulled a prank on me! I swear, I’ll find a replacement if you don’t straighten up!” The Headmistress took a calming breath before turning her attention to the pair in front of her. “What can I do for you two?”
“We would like to ask a favor,” stated Hermione. Harry saw McGonagall’s eyes dart down and then back up. He glanced down and noticed the he and Hermione were still holding hands.
“And what would that favor be?” asked McGonagall with a saucy grin and a blush. Harry nearly went into shock at the sight; he had never imagined, nor wanted to imagine, what McGonagall would look like with a saucy grin. He loved and respected his mentor, but it truly frightened the young wizard to see such a grin stretched across her face. Harry had rarely seen the Headmistress with anything but a stern look upon her face and he was taken back. The sassy smile was very disturbing on McGonagall’s face. It made Harry feel very uncomfortable both physically and emotionally.
“You see, Harry has been, and will, be a target for Voldemort,” Hermione began, not noticing Harry’s current discomfort. “And Harry doesn’t really stand a chance against him. Not unless we get some training.”
“What would you suggest, Ms. Granger?”
“May we please stay here at the castle so that we can use the library and other facilities to train?” Hermione asked as if she had spent hours preparing the question. Knowing Hermione, that is probably exactly what she did. She more than likely had written several drafts of the question in her Day Planner and chose the one she thought would be best received.
“Yes, you may,” answered McGonagall. The Headmistress then added with a wry wink as she headed back up to her chambers, “But when you use the ‘other facilities’, please clean up after yourselves.”
“What do you think she meant by that?” Hermione asked, as the teens turned away from the now closed doorway. Harry replied mutely by holding up their clasped hands. “She saw, do you think she suspects...?” Hermione beg
an to ask before answering herself. “Of course she does, otherwise she wouldn’t have used the ‘clean up’ reference.”
“Are we that messy?” asked Harry.
“I may not be, but you are,” replied Hermione with a wink.
After a quick breakfast, Harry and Hermione proceeded to the library.
“Alright, let’s just head straight to the Restricted Section and start reading up on some of the more powerful magics,” Hermione ordered.
Several hours later, Hermione had a very large stack of books that she’d labeled as being “potentially useful” and another, much smaller stack marked “worthless.” The “potentially useful” stack intimidated Harry; there were at least six-dozen books in that stack. How Hermione thought that the two of them could read all that material, let alone actually retain the knowledge, was beyond him. Harry, on the other hand, had skimmed through no more than four books and found nothing remotely helpful in his destined fight with Voldemort. He found two particularly powerful transfigurations where one could turn a wizard into a giant toad, and another which would turn a toad into tadpoles according to the illustration... Harry reread the entry and corrected himself, it wasn’t “tadpoles,” it was semen. Harry repressed a shudder as an image played out in his head of a man turning into a giant toad then into a large pool of spunk. Then he thought of Snape and figured that it would be a fitting end to the traitor. He marked the page for future study.
“This is going to take forever,” exclaimed Hermione. “If only we had something to go on. A weakness of Voldemort’s that you excel in...”
“Yeah, but I don’t see how ‘the power he knows not’ will help,” Harry said. “I always thought that bit was rubbish.”
Hermione lifted her gaze up from her book and her eyes burned a hole into Harry.