by Harry Potter
Friday night, as Hermione patrolled the west wing looking for any students out past curfew, Harry searched the east wing, he came across Tonks’ friend and Auror-trainee, Courtney. She bounded up to the raven haired wizard and gave him a hug in greeting.
“Hiya, Courtney,” Harry said. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, this is my class’ week to patrol the castle,” she answered. “I’ve been stationed on the grounds since I got here. But this is the first time I’ve gotten the assignment to come inside. I haven’t been in here since I graduated; it feels so weird.”
“So how’s Tonks?” asked Harry.
“She’s as huge as a house and absolutely gorgeous,” Courtney answered with a big grin. “Tonks and Remus are so effing happy it’s contagious. She’s due any second now, thanks to that prank you and Hermione pulled.”
“That’s great,” Harry said with a smile.
The two began to walk down the hall and they continued their conversation.
“Oh, by the way, did anyone find out why those Death Eaters were trying to kidnap the girls from the train?” Harry asked. “Was it for a dark ritual or some form of blackmail plot against the Ministry?”
“Actually, we found out something very interesting when the prisoners were interrogated,” Courtney answered. “The girls weren’t nabbed for a ritual or for blackmail. The prisoners confirmed that You-Know-Who had no idea about the attack. Which makes sense; if he did know of the attack, he would’ve sent more than just a few of his followers.”
“Then why did they attack?” asked Harry.
“Well, according to the prisoners, You-Know-Who does a little contest every year to boost morale in his followers; it’s called ‘Little Miss Death Eater’,” the Auror in training explained. “It’s basically a talent show for the Death Eaters’ daughters. The winner’s family gets a hundred galleons and a private dinner with He Who Must Not Be Named.
“Apparently, the Death Eaters who were involved in the attack on the train either didn’t have any daughters of their own, or their daughters were so ugly and untalented that they didn’t stand a chance in the competition,” Courtney continued. “These Death Eaters were so eager for their Master’s praise that they concocted a plan to kidnap a bunch of girls from the Hogwarts’ Express and pass them off as their own daughters.”
“You’re kidding,” Harry said. “They planned to kidnap children just so they could have dinner with Voldemort? They somehow found a way to break through the wards around the train and decided not to launch a full scale attack that would’ve devastated the Ministry and every witch and wizard in Great Britain. Instead, they just wanted to win a talent show?”
“Yep,” she responded. “No one ever accused Death Eaters of being the smartest bunch of people.
“Let’s change the subject to something more enjoyable than dim-witted Death Eaters,” Courtney continued. “So, have you and Hermione used all those toys I gave her?”
“Um... just two,” Harry admitted with a touch of embarrassment. He wasn’t ashamed that he and Hermione had only used two of the toys, but he was hesitant about speaking so openly about sex with Courtney.
“Which ones?” she asked. Harry didn’t immediately respond, so she gave him a playful pinch on his arm and asked again. “Which ones did you use?”
“The feather and the cuffs,” Harry said, blushing.
“Ooo, I’ve got to know; did she tie you up or did you tie her up?” Courtney asked with excitement.
“Well, she kind of tied herself up,” Harry said and felt his cheeks heat up even more.
“You mean you didn’t tie her up?” she asked.
“Well, she showed me the cuffs and told me to tap my wand on them,” he explained. “Then she told me to use the feather on her.”
“Does she tell you what to do a lot of the time? I mean when you’re being intimate?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Harry admitted. “She pretty much tells me what to do in those situations.” After a beat, he added, “Not that I mind.”
“Of course not. You’re a bloke,” Courtney commented. “But you’ve got to take the reins once in a while.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know,” Courtney continued. “Take control; be dominating once in a while.”
“What do you mean by ‘dominating’?”
“Well, I’m not suggesting you tie her down and spank her...” Courtney paused dramatically before continuing. “Unless she likes that sort of thing.”
“But I like to... well, please Hermione,” Harry said, still a little shy about the topic of conversation. “She tells me what to do to make her... happy and that makes me happy, you know.”
“Yeah, it’s nice to have a girlfriend give you pointers; that way you don’t mess up,” Courtney agreed. “But it doesn’t hurt to just do it to please yourself every now and then. I mean, I’m sure if you made yourself happy, that it would please Hermione as well. Besides, most witches wouldn’t mind a wizard that takes control once in a while.”
“What would you suggest?”
“The next time you two are alone, push her on the bed and shag her rotten. Don’t light candles or play some romantic music, just tug on her hair and bang her brains out,” suggested the Auror in training. “Do something for yourself. Fulfill one of your fantasies. Have her dress up, maybe as a nun. Hell, I fulfilled my muggle-born boyfriend’s fantasy. I dressed in this weird bronze metal bikini, something he saw in a film once. Or if you want, just cum on her tits. Whatever floats your boat.”
Harry felt as if his face was on fire at Courtney’s comments. He tried to avert his eyes, but it was too late.
“You want to titty-shag her!” she exclaimed, correctly interpreting Harry’s increased discomfort. He looked around in a mild panic, worried that someone had overheard her statement. Apparently, Harry’s embarrassment only made Courtney want to rib him even further. “You want to wedge your willy between her boobs and cum on her, don’t you?”
What Harry wanted right that moment was to run away and hide; he was beyond embarrassed by Courtney’s comments. The forwardness of the witch caught him completely off guard.
“Then you should do it,” the rambunctious witch demanded. “Mount her chest and use her jugs to wank off.”
“I can’t ask her to do that,” Harry said, imaging the mortified look on Hermione’s face at the mere suggestion.
“If she has a problem with it, just tell her to lie back and enjoy the show,” Courtney argued.
“I... I dunno,” Harry said doubtfully.
“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” Courtney said, giving Harry a pat on the shoulder. “Well I’m off. Have fun with Hermione. Remember, if she’s really opposed to giving you a titty-shag, have her give you a hummer while she’s dressed up in a costume. It really can be fun!”
As Courtney walked away humming an oddly aggressive marching tune (a tune that seemed somehow familiar to Harry; perhaps it was done by that John Williams fellow that Hermione had mentioned), Harry pondered over her suggestions. Besides his fear of Hermione being appalled over the notion of a titty-shag, Harry doubted it could work in a practical sense. He wasn’t overly endowed and although, Hermione’s breasts were a nice handful (very nice handful at that), Harry doubted that they could get that particular fantasy to work properly. He’d imagined for that act to work that he’d need to be hung like a hippogriff and Hermione would have to be closer to Luna’s prestigious (and slightly overbearing) size.
But one thing that Courtney suggested struck a cord inside Harry; “Have her dress up...” He remembered that Hermione had discussed the notion of “Role-Playing” with him when Luna used polyjuice to make love with Ron. Harry hadn’t given it much thought, but now that Courtney brought it up, it started to intrigue him. The idea of dressing up and acting like different people began to sound raunchy and exciting.
As Harry walked back to his and Hermione’s room, his mind wandered over different scenarios. Should he dr
ess up as a criminal and Hermione as a cop who decides to interrogate criminal-Harry in new and fascinating ways? Or should they play a particularly naughty version of ‘Doctor’ (not that ‘playing Doctor’ has been anything other than naughty)?
Then, like a bolt of inspiration, an image of pleated skirts entered his mind. Harry had the perfect idea! It would just take a little time to plan out and execute.
When he finally reached his room, he found Hermione already asleep and in bed. As he crawled into bed with his lover, his mind went over his plans.
***
Harry assumed that Hermione was no longer sore the next morning judging by how frisky she was. The moment he opened his eyes, the brunette witch pounced on him and began tickling him. Up until that moment, Harry hadn’t realized how ticklish he was. One could say that he was very ticklish, while others could argue that he was ridiculously ticklish and not be incorrect. While he was laughing, the raven hair wizard thrashed and tried to scoot away on the bed which led to an interesting occurrence. You see, Hermione wasn’t content with just tickling her boyfriend. No, she had to do so while completely naked. And all of Harry’s movements - the thrashing and scooting - caused his pajama bottom to be pulled down, thereby exposing his bits. And seeing how ‘Harry, Jr.’ was not one to let an opportunity pass, the organ sprang to life. Within a few scant seconds of waking up, Harry found himself making love to Hermione... who was still tickling him incessantly... which just caused him to thrash about; an action which Hermione seemed to really enjoy.
It was a truly wonderful way to wake up. Maybe even better than the time she aroused Harry from his slumber with her skills in fellatio. At that particular moment, as Hermione simultaneously rode and tickled him, Harry couldn’t decide which one was the better way to wake up. Was it the tickle and shag or the straight forward blow-job? He reckoned, joyfully, that he needed to compare each of the two activities a few more times to make up his mind.
With all the jostling about, it didn’t take Harry too long to become a happy wizard. He was a little disappointed that he had reached his orgasm before Hermione did. But Hermione didn’t appear to be let down; she had a beautiful smile on her face as she leaned forward and whispered in Harry’s ear “Good morning.”
Hermione was being such a good sport about him finishing before her that Harry decided to return the favor and tickle her. He found that she wasn’t as sensitive as he was when he used the traditional and time honored technique of tickling (or at least, when not cuffed to the bed and being teased with a feather). So Harry tried a different style of tickling on a very sensitive area on his lover which brought out a very positive response out of Hermione. In other words; he finger banged her.
After all, she hadn’t orgasmed before he finished. And it was his duty and privilege as her boyfriend to make her satisfied. After she cried out in passion, it was Harry’s turn to whisper “Good morning.”
After cuddling for a few minutes, Hermione got up to take a shower. As his girlfriend washed up, Harry snuck out of the bedroom. He had to find Dobby so that the house-elf could help him. When Harry entered the outer chamber, he found Dobby about to enter the small door leading to his room.
“Hey Dobby,” Harry called out while walking up to the house-elf.
Dobby rapidly shut the door leading into his room. Before the door closed, Harry caught a glimpse of a number of shelves on the back wall of Dobby’s room. He also noticed a number of tiny glass vials filled with some kind of silver liquid placed on the shelves before the door closed.
“Yes, Harry Potter sir?” Dobby asked. The tiny creature’s voice was a little more nervous than normal, but Harry brushed it aside.
“Could you do me a favor?” Harry asked and the house-elf nearly cried with happiness at the thought of being able to help the black haired wizard.
“Anythings for you, Harry Potter sir,” Dobby squeaked.
“I need you to transfigure that bedroom,” Harry pointed to the spare room. “And I need you to create some costumes.”
Harry could’ve easily transfigured the room and conjured the necessary clothing himself. But he still wasn’t used to his heightened power and he was worried that he would mess it up and ruin it.
“What do’s you be wanting it transfigured into, sir?”
Harry spent the next fifteen minutes giving Dobby very precise instructions. He ended the conversation with another request: “Hermione can’t know about it, okay?”
The house-elf nodded his head emphatically.
Harry returned to his and Hermione’s room just in time for his girlfriend to step out of the shower. Her skin was still wet and he fought the urge to lick up her excess moisture. He wanted to save his energy for later that night. After Harry showered and dressed, he and Hermione went to the Great Hall for breakfast.
They found Ron and Luna already at the table waiting for them. A short while after they arrived, Ginny entered the Great Hall with Neville at her side. The two sat on opposite sides of the table a dozen feet away from Harry, Hermione, Luna, and Ron. Neville and Ginny didn’t even bother putting food on their plates. Instead, they began speaking to one another.
“What the hell does Neville think he’s doing?” Ron asked with his mouth full of partially chewed food. Tiny bits of his breakfast sprayed in Neville’s direction.
“He’s talking to your sister,” Luna stated. “And don’t speak with your mouth full, dear.”
“That’s not just ‘talking’,” Ron accused, dribbling some scrabbled eggs out of his mouth. “He’d wouldn’t be leaning over the table is he was just ‘talking’.”
Usually, Ron wasn’t the most observant person in the world. But Harry noticed that his red haired friend was spot on in his observation this time. Neville and Ginny were leaning over their empty plates and speaking softly to each other.
“He should watch it,” Ron threatened in between bites of kipper. “He’d better not touch my sister.”
“Why not? Many wizards have touched her before he came along,” Hermione commented under her breath so that only Harry could hear her. Harry almost choked on his juice as he fought back laughter.
Ron was, as usual, overreacting. Harry could tell by their body language that Ginny and Neville hadn’t done anything intimate. There was a nervousness about the two that gave Harry the impression that they hadn’t done much besides talk. Of course that same nervousness told Harry that both Neville and Ginny wanted to do more than talk, but each was hesitant. Harry could understand Neville’s hesitation; the young wizard was still coming out of his shyness. Ginny, on the other hand, made Harry wonder. He had her pegged as the type of witch that would just take what she wanted - much like she had tried to do when she molested him a few weeks before. Her actions during Harry’s sixth year and what she did over the summer was such a drastic change from the shy girl he knew before. For the first few years that Harry knew her, Ginny was just as shy as Neville was.
But as he watched Ginny and Neville talk, Harry came to realize something. Perhaps Ginny had acted so strangely over the past year or so as some sort of overcompensation against her shyness. Maybe she felt the need to act like a “scarlet woman” to quell her natural timidity. She could have thought that boys wouldn’t pay attention to a timid girl like her so she re-sculpted herself as a free spirit (read: slut).
Harry speculated that Ginny changed herself because she believed that other people wouldn’t like her for who she was. She must’ve felt that no one would understand her. But with Neville, another person who was just as shy, Ginny could be herself. Perhaps that’s why she hadn’t tried to molest Neville... yet.
“Did he just touch her hand?” Ron spat and began to stand up. It was clear that he wanted to stomp over to Neville and pummel him for touching his sister. Thankfully, Luna restrained her husband and forced him to sit back down.
“So what if Neville and Ginny are dating,” Harry stated. “Good for them.”
“That’s not your sister,” Ron hissed. “I h
ave to protect her virtue!”
“You’re a little too late for that,” murmured Hermione.
“What was that?” Ron snapped.
“I said ‘you don’t have to worry about that’,” Hermione lied. “Neville’s a gentleman. He proved it when he took Ginny to the Yule Ball. And he risked his own safety trying to protect her from Draco’s thugs at the end of our fifth year. He’d never take advantage of Ginny.”
“Besides, after what happened to you and me, Ginny knows better than to go too far,” Luna pointed out. “If she did, Molly would pounce on her and force her to marry Neville.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Ron huffed.
“So you two, what are your plans today?” Luna asked Harry and Hermione.
Harry fought the urge to happily announce “Hermione’s not sore anymore!” but wisely held his tongue. Such a statement would be inappropriate and would lead to another dry-spell.
“Well, I’m going to the library to study a bit,” Hermione answered. “We’re going over spell and ritual creation in Arithmancy and I want to do some work outside of the classroom.”
As she spoke, Hermione gave Harry her patented lustful and longing look. It gave him the impression that she had an itch that she wanted to scratch and had made up the story about going to the library and studying so that their friends wouldn’t know that she and Harry were going to spend the day shagging.
However, Harry must’ve misinterpreted Hermione’s look. Instead of sneaking away to make love after breakfast, Hermione led Harry to the library to study.
He was a little taken back at his mistake. He was positive that she had just given him her “shag me eyes” and he had seen them enough recently to spot them. How he mistook that look was a mystery to him. To perplex the young wizard even further, every once in a while, as Hermione read tome after tome and took very detailed notes, she would look up at him and give him that same look.
Perhaps she was trying to give him clues that she wanted to be naughty and do it in the library. Seeing how it was early Saturday morning, there were no other students around. Harry reckoned that he could do the deed without alerting Pince, the librarian. But when Harry started to kiss her, Hermione gently brushed him away.