Harry Potter and the sword of Griffindor Chapter 3
Introduction:
Harry and Hermione spend time studying… and they happen to read a book or two as well
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. 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.
There was Hermione, curled up on her favorite chair with a book in her lap. 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 walked.
“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 preceded 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. It was an activity that Harry had become quite fond of, he loved how her mounds felt in his hands and her 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 began 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.
“What was that?” she asked impatiently.
“What was what?” Harry replied, taken back at her steely gaze.
“What did you say about the power Voldemort doesn’t have?”
“Oh, that,” Harry said relieved. He was worried that he had said something to upset Hermione. “It was just something mentioned in the silly prophesy.”
Hermione closed her book and was obviously trying to compose herself as she strummed her fingers on the cover of a discarded book.
“Do you mean to tell me that there was more to the prophesy than ‘me against him’ as you originally told me?” she asked very slowly, as if she was speaking to a dim-witted child.
“Just a bit,” Harry replied with more than a little touch of fear. Whenever Hermione had gotten this way in the past, Harry always knew that he was in for trouble. And usually, rightfully so.
“Like what?” The thinly veiled anger started to seep out of her body and Harry’s fear grew.
“Um… just that I have a power he doesn’t even know about and that um… he marked me as an equal,” Harry said rapidly. He had hoped that the faster he said the words, the less angry Hermione would be.
“And I take it you know what that power is,” stated Hermione as she rubbed her temples with her fingers.
“Love,” Harry replied.
“Love?” Hermione repeated disbelievingly.
“According to Dumbledore, at least.”
“Well, he wouldn’t have just made an assumption. Did he ever point out when you may have used ‘Love’ against Voldemort?” Hermione asked.
“Yeah, I accidentally tapped into it when Tom possessed me at the Ministry of Magic. I was able to hurt him; so much so that Dumbledore reckoned that he wouldn’t try to sneak into my mind again because of the pain he suffered.”
“Why… didn’t… you… tell… me… about…THAT!?!” Hermione demanded.
“It’s not important, not anymore,” argued Harry. “Not since Voldemort took my blood! My touch used to be able to cause him pain before his resurrection. But now, he has my blood in his veins, and he can touch me without hurting himself.”
“And when did your blood get taken, Harry?””
“Fourth year, as you bloody well know,” Harry replied irritably.
“And when were you possessed?” asked Hermione, a smile returning to her face. Apparently, she took a great amount of joy in seeing how long it would take Harry to catch up with her train of thought.
“Fifth year… oh, wait…” Harry paused. “When he possessed me in the Ministry of Magic, he already had my blood in his veins.”
“Harry, you may not be able to harm him just by touching him anymore,” explained Hermione, “but somehow, you were able to activate that power when he tried to possess you and you hurt him! You hurt him enough that you drove him away!”
Hermione got that look again, the look she got when her brain went into overdrive. After a moment she asked: “Can you think of any other time you tapped into the power of love? Not necessarily just against Voldemort.”
After a bit of thought, Harry offered, “Well, I don’t know if it’s love or not, but the two times I’ve used a Patronus against real Dementors could have been close.”
“Could you explain?” Hermione asked patiently.
“When I realized that it wasn’t my dad who cast the Stag Patronus I had seen, but me…” Harry said with his eyes closed, trying to concentrate on the memory from his third year. “I remembered thinking that I was going to leave the Dursely’s and live with Sirius. I was going to live with someone who cared for me.”
“That’s familial love,” Hermione explained. “That is the love of a family. You had inadvertently tapped into a form of love when you cast the Patronus.”
“And then the second time was when Dudley and I were attacked,” Harry continued. “Before I cast the Patronus, I remembered thinking about seeing you and Ron.”
“Platonic love, love of friends.”
“That’s about it,” Harry said with a shrug of his shoulders.
“What about Cho?” Hermione asked. “You did have a crush on her which is a form of affectionate love. And you did kiss her.”
“Oh, yeah” Harry said with a snap of his fingers. “When Snape was teaching me Occlumency, he was about to see an image of me and Cho kissing and I threw off his Legilimency attack for the first time, and it was without a wand or spell.”
“That’s very good,” Hermione complimented.
“And I entered his mind,” Harry continued, and Hermione’s jaw dropped. “I saw him as a kid hiding under a table as his parents fought.”
“You entered Snape’s mind without a wand or casting a spell?” Hermione asked. “He’s a skilled Occlumens, you shouldn’t have been able to do that! His defenses should have stopped you easily! That’s incredible, Harry! I think Dumbledore was correct. Think about it. Most wizards and witches can’t produce a corporeal Patronus, and even if they do, they would be able to drive away maybe one or two Dementors, like Remus did on the train. But when you thought about love in one way or another, you were able to drive away scores of Dementors. And look what you did with Snape; you easily broke through a skilled Occlumens’ shields and saw his memories, because you unknowingly tapped into your power of love. Apparently, when you access you power base, love, you are a very powerful wizard indeed!”
Harry blushed at her compliment. Hermione paused and worried her lip before continuing: “Harry, I know it’s a touchy subject, but could you tell me what you felt with Ginny?”
“Now I feel revulsion,” Harry answered, with only a minor shudder. “But during the time, I guess the best way to describe it would be to say it was like a scaly monster was living in my chest.”
“A scaly monster? That’s not love Harry; that sounds more like lust and jealousy!” Hermione cried victoriously. “No wonder you were so ineffectual last year!”
“Excuse me!” Harry blurted out. “/Ineffectual/?”
“Yes Harry, ineffectual,” Hermione repeated. “Remember, you told me the events of the cave. You panicked. Panicking is something you’ve never done before. Remember in first year, Hagrid had to pair you with Draco because he had already scared Neville. Hagrid knew that you wouldn’t panic. In second year, you faced a forty foot snake that could’ve killed you just by looking at you and you didn’t panic! You may have been frightened, that’s only normal. But you did not panic. In third year, you drove off scores of Dementors without panicking. When you were Portkeyed to the graveyard during the final task of the Tri-Wizard, you dueled with Voldemort, the most feared Dark Lord in decades and again you didn’t panic!
“But, when the Infiri attacked, you admitted that you completely forgot the simple flame hex. The same hex that Dumbledore had just reminded you about moments before. And then, when you were chasing after Snape and the Death Eaters, you couldn’t land even one hex on Snape. In previous encounters with Death Eaters, you’ve always been spectacular. You were able to Stun or incapacitate several Death Eaters when Voldemort resurrected himself as well as during the battle in the Department of Mysteries. You should’ve been able to deal with the zombies without freezing up, and you should have at least singed Snape.
“That has to prove that Dumbledore was right. Your power base is love!” Hermione continued. “All you strengths come from one form of love or another. But last year, you were lusting after Ginny. And that lust was detrimental to your power base. Lust is not love in any way shape or form! Lust is a mockery of love. That’s why you were acting so strangely last year.”
“Alright, fine, then. But why were you acting so strangely last year?” Harry shot back. He was angry with her because deep down, he knew she was right. “You dropped S.P.E.W. like it had meant nothing to you even though you were clearly obsessed about the cause for two years. You broke the rules when hexed another student just so Ron could stay on the Quidditch team. I realize that you’ve bent and broken the rules before, but the times you’ve done that, people’s lives were at risk. But this time, you broke the rules just to save Ron from embarrassment. And then you chastised me when you thought I might have cheated when I tricked Ron into believing that I gave him the Felix Felicis, doing the exact same thing you did: saving Ron from embarrassing himself. It also took you months to find out that Prince was related to Snape, something you normally would’ve found out in no time at all! Especially since you were so dead certain that Eileen Prince was somehow related to the damned Half-Blood Prince in my Potions Text. You only bothered to check on what happened to Eileen Prince after Snape admitted to being the Half-Blood Prince.”
Hermione hung her head in shame. Harry’s heart dropped roughly to his knees. “I’m sorry Hermione, I didn’t mean-“
“No, you’re right Harry. We both acted strangely last year,” Hermione interrupted. “And my own reasons were pretty much the same reasons as to why you acted oddly as well. I simply wanted to be loved. I wanted someone to hold my hand and kiss me. I wanted someone to say I’m pretty and to mean it. I wanted someone to think of me when I wasn’t around.
“All of the other girls in our year, and most of the younger ones as well, were already active in the dating scene, and as strange as it may seem, I felt compelled to start dating as well. Perhaps the underlying reason was as simple as I didn’t want those Yule Ball rumors to finally come true. You know the ones I mean; the ones that said that no boy would ever want to be seen with someone like me; a bossy know-it-all with bushy hair. But I didn’t want to date someone I didn’t know,” Hermione continued with tears streaming down her face. “So I decided that it would have to be either you or Ron. And you were already ogling Ginny, so I set my sights on Ron. That’s why I stopped caring about House-Elves; Ron doesn’t care about them, he only cares about Quidditch. That’s also why I hexed McLaggen. And I suppose that’s the only excuse I can give as to why I didn’t figure about Snape and the whole Potions Text. I was so desperate for Ron to notice me that I ignored what was staring me right in the face. I needed Ron to notice me, there was no one else available for me. I had come to the conclusion that I didn’t have a chance with you. You’re popular, even though you hate it, and brave and handsome, and I’m ugly and bookish-“
“Let me explain something to you Hermione,” interrupted Harry as he took her face gently in his hands and looked deeply into her eyes. “I think you are beautiful, and not just in a physical way either. Even though I can honestly say that your breasts are fantastic! Awe inspiring, to be truthful.” Hermione blushed as Harry continued, “But you’re beautiful in so many other ways as well. You’re ridiculously smart, incredibly brave, patient, kind, compassionate, and you know me better than anyone else. Remember back in our third year? The game where the Dementors knocked me off my Nimbus? It was raining so hard I couldn’t see. Wood had called a time out and I was about to point out my vision problem. Before I could even begin, you appeared over my shoulder to help me out, without needing to be asked. Then in our fifth year, when I thought that I had somehow caused Nagini to attack Mr. Weasley, everyone let me wallow in self pity in that damn room. Ginny, the girl I was so infatuated with last year, let me rot in that room. But not you, you canceled a holiday with your folks and marched right up to Buckbeak’s room and literally dragged me out the moment you arrived. You’ve always been there for me, to help me, even when I thought I didn’t want it. You were the only one brave enough to say that Voldemort had laid a trap for me in the Department of Mysteries. And yet, you still went with me because you knew I needed your help. You know me better than I know myself.
“Do you want to know what Ginny said to me when I broke up with her?” Harry continued. “She said that I’d only be happy hunting Voldemort. She said that’s why she liked me so much.”
“How can she think that?” Hermione asked incredulously. “You want to be a father.”
“W-what?” Harry stammered. It was as if Hermione had dumped a bucket of ice water over his head and it shocked him to his core.
“It’s obvious to me that you want to get married and have a bunch of kids,” Hermione said, as if it was common knowledge. “You want the one thing you’ve never had: a loving family.” Harry slowly lowered himself to the floor and sat down.
“I do?” he asked as an image appeared in his minds eye. He looked a little older and he was surrounded by children, his children. That image filled the young man with such happiness that he actually started to cry. “I guess I do want kids.” Hermione lowered herself into Harry’s lap and kissed away his tears. “You see, you do know me better than I do.”
The couple sat on the floor in the Restricted Section just holding each other for a long while, saying nothing, just enjoying being in each others arms. Hermione finally pulled herself away from Harry’s embrace and said: “We better get back to researching.”
“Do we have to?” Harry pleaded while still holding onto her hands.
“Yes, we do,” Hermione ordered. “But it should be easier now that we have a better focus. We just have to look for spells and rituals which use love.”
Hermione disappeared into the stacks as Harry grudgingly stood up and began his search anew. After an hour of browsing through the Restricted Section, Harry’s eye caught the words “Love” and “Magic” on the binding of an old red-leather book. ‘Could this be it? The thing that could lead to the downfall of Voldemort?’ Harry’s hopes were dashed though, when he read the full title: “The Magic of Making Love: By Thos. Antric.” He shrugged as he pulled the book from the shelves; he reckoned that he might as well thumb through it, seeing that it was the only book he had found in the past hour that even appeared to be remotely related to love.
The first page Harry opened to had almost made him drop the book out of shock. It was a magical photo showing a witch and wizard, both very naked, in a unique position. A position that Harry thought should have caused a great deal of pain (/’Was that his foot by her ear or her own? And where was her left hand?’/), but judging by the expressions on their faces, they were rather enjoying it.
The next page that Harry randomly turned to piqued his interest. The chapter was titled “A Witch’s Orgasm and its Power; How You Can Benefit From It!” Harry didn’t need to read the chapter to learn how a witch’s orgasm could benefit him; he would be able to show Hermione just how much she meant to him, and he could properly return the pleasure that Hermione had given him. The next random chapter that Harry turned to made him think that the book was written precisely with him in mind: “The Hidden Benefits of Being a Parselmouth; Cunnilingus and You!” Harry marked that page and stuffed the book in his bag. The book may not help him defeat Voldemort, but it looked like it could help him in his love life.
Harry returned to their desk to find Hermione already hidden behind a wall of books. The young wizard sat down at his chair and started to read the new-found book.
The chapter on Parselmouths was very enlightening. It stated that Parselmouths have a magical ability that is focused within the wizard’s tongue, and while normally this magic is used to communicate with snakes, it could be used while giving oral pleasure to a witch. The book also had several diagrams explaining different techniques to illicit the best response from the witch.
After he had read the chapter no less than ten times, completely skipping over the sections dealing with the theories and so-called “magical benefits”, concentrating strictly on form and technique, Harry realized that it had grown dark outside. He looked at the clock on the wall and noticed it was half past ten at night. “Hermione, let’s fetch some supper and call it a night,” he called out.
Harry was having a very interesting dream the next morning; he was on the shore next to the Hogwarts Lake. Some odd compulsion forced him to gobble some gillyweed that was in his hands and he then jumped into the water. After he felt gills popping out on the sides of his neck, Harry swam under the water for several minutes until he saw something that would lead him to his goal – what that goal was, he didn’t know, but Harry needed to reach it for some unknown reason. The thing that Harry saw was a mermaid. But it wasn’t what real mermaids looked like, merpeople are actually very unattractive, downright ugly one might say. This mermaid was quite beautiful; she looked exactly like Hermione did above the waist. And she was topless to boot! But before Harry could get a good look at mermaid-Hermione’s boobs, she dashed away. He gave chase immediately. Mermaid-Hermione dove into a dark tunnel at the bottom of the lakebed and Harry quickly followed. The tunnel was incredibly dark, but unlike the water outside the tunnel which was cold, this water was warm and pleasant. For some odd reason, Harry felt his ever-present companion, ‘Harry, Jr.’ begin to stir in his swim-trucks. After a few moments of swimming through the tunnel blindly, Harry saw a slit of light in the distance. Harry instinctively swam toward the light and passed through it. He turned around and saw that he had just exited the tunnel and onto the lakebed through a giant clam.
But before Harry could turn around and continue pursuing mermaid-Hermione, he was tackled by someone. As he was pushed down into the lakebed, kelp magically sprang to life to bind his hands and feet. Someone rapidly stripped off his swim trunks. He looked up into the beautiful hazel eyes of mermaid-Hermione.
“I see that part of you is awake,” she said wickedly, indicating Harry’s partially aroused state, as she twirled his trunks in front of her while poking him in the ribs. “I’m just waiting for the rest of you to wake up.”
“Huh?” Harry grunted groggily as his eyes opened up. He normally wouldn’t have been happy to wake up from such an interesting dream, but any animosity that he might have felt toward the person who woke him up disappeared the moment his eyes focused on the young woman in front of him. Hermione stood in front of Harry wearing her sleeping gown and holding a pair of boxers in front of her, specifically Harry’s boxers. That’s when Harry felt a draft on ‘Harry, Jr.’/. He tried to cover his bits, but found that his hands and feet were invisibly bound to his bedposts, obviously by Hermione for some illicit and, more than likely, exciting purpose. The young witch examined Harry’s naked body with unmasked desire in her eyes. Harry was embarrassed, nay, mortified that he was laying starkers in front of Hermione. /’Harry, Jr.’ on the other hand reveled in the attention. It stood proud as if it was saying “Hey, look at me!”
“Quite impressive, Mr. Potter,” said Hermione, as if she was grading one of his papers. “You should be proud.”
Harry felt his skin turn red at Hermione’s comments and ‘Harry, Jr.’ stood even taller.
“Seeing as you’re naked, which I might have had something to do with that – but I admit nothing, mind you- and I am dressed,” Hermione said theatrically, “let’s even the score a bit”
Hermione then reached down and slowly, almost hesitantly, removed her gown. Harry emitted a small “ooh” sound when he saw the two things that he had so desperately wanted to see the past few days; Hermione’s nipples.
Her nipples, which Harry decided to call “Carmella” and “Natasha,” were full and erect, as if they were saying ‘hello’ to ‘Harry, Jr.’ who was singing to the heavens at that point in time.
Hermione stood nervously as Harry took in every inch of her exposed body. His eyes took in her white cotton knickers, lingered on her flat tummy, then slowly traveled up to her bare breasts, and then finally, he locked eyes with her and said: “My God Hermione, you are beautiful.”
“That is what I was waiting to hear,” said Hermione, her self-confidence obviously bolstered by Harry’s comments. She crawled onto the foot of the bed and lowered her mouth over Harry’s organ.
She began by using her tongue, running it up and down his shaft. Then she placed it into her mouth and began the same wonderful technique she used the other night. Harry groaned in pleasure and tugged at his invisible bounds. He frantically wanted to touch her, to run his hands through her hair. But she had cruelly bound him to his bedpost.
Slurping noises emanated from Hermione as she bobbed up and down on his pole, coating ‘Harry, Jr.’ with her saliva. Harry started to groan when Hermione began to cup and gently massage his balls. Within minutes (Harry noted with a great deal of masculine pride that he had lasted much longer then his first time), he felt the pressure build up. He remembered the tongue lashing he had gotten from Hermione the last time when he failed to warn her. Mind you he rather liked the tongue lashing he was getting now, but he hated the other type.
“Hermione, I’m gonna cum,” Harry grunted.
Hermione stopped her fellatio and looked up at Harry. A broad, sinful smile stretched across her lips as she said, “Happy Birthday, Harry.”
Then Harry got the best birthday present he had ever gotten. Hermione took his entire length into her mouth, pausing only to relax her gag reflex when he reached her throat. Harry stopped breathing when he felt Hermione’s throat pulsate and contract as she seemingly tried to swallow his organ. She let out a low grumble that emanated from her throat and the sound sent shivers through his body. While continuing to grumble, Hermione sucked on his organ. Within seconds, Harry had lost control and unloaded into Hermione’s mouth. His dick jumped once in her mouth, shooting off the first blast of his load and Hermione raised herself and suckled on his crown. ‘Harry, Jr.’ bucked again and again, discharging his semen into her mouth.
After Harry was finished, Hermione made a show of swallowing his load. She had a look on her face like she had just swallowed something dreadful, perhaps a flobberworm, but Harry almost came again just at the sight of her swallowing. Hermione retrieved her wand and performed a Breath Cleaning Charm before releasing Harry from his magical bonds.
“Sorry about that, I’m not used to the taste just yet.” said Hermione as she crawled onto his bare body, pressing her naked breasts into his heaving chest. “I’ve done some research and read that a man’s diet affects the taste of his semen. Maybe we can experiment with the foods you eat, and see which resultant taste I like the best?”
‘Experiment!’ Harry’s mind declared triumphantly. What she said definitely hinted that Hermione was willing to do this act again. ‘Try to act as smooth as possible,’ Harry thought to himself as he replied to Hermione, “Sure, I won’t mind. Anything in the name of progress.”
“So, was it good for you?” Hermione asked with a saucy smile.
In all honesty, it was very, very good for him. But he also knew that it couldn’t have been all that enjoyable for her. She did all the work, yet received no pleasure for herself, while Harry had gotten all the enjoyment (and a lot of it). Harry didn’t just want to tell her that it was terrific; he wanted to show her how terrific it was. He needed to show Hermione, not simply because he felt obligated to return the pleasure that she had given him twice already. He wanted to do it so Hermione herself could feel ecstasy. Somewhere deep within Harry, he felt the almost desperate need to make Hermione… happy. Harry just wasn’t certain he knew how to show her just what he felt for her, and what he felt she deserved. Then Harry remembered his ‘special book’ and the chapter that he so diligently memorized.
“Instead of telling you, let me show you,” Harry replied and quickly rolled over so that Hermione was under him before she could protest. Hermione squealed in surprise.
“What do you have in mind, Harry?” asked Hermione after she regained her composure.
“Retuning the favor,” answered Harry. He hesitantly added, “That is, if you don’t mind.”
Before answering, Hermione averted her eyes and blushed such a bright crimson, that Harry reasoned that he could easily read in the dark just by using her body as a night light.
“No, I don’t mind,” she replied nervously.
“Now, I’ve never done this before,” stated Harry, “and I know there are lots of ways to do this improperly beside ‘using teeth,’ so tell me when I do something wrong.”
After Hermione nodded in the affirmative, Harry started by kissing her passionately, he then trailed kisses down her chin, her neck, passed her color-bone, until he reached the valley between Hermione’s breasts. Harry took this opportunity to get to know ‘Natasha’ and ‘Carmella’ intimately. Hermione groaned as Harry licked, suckled, and lightly nibbled on her tender flesh. The heat coming off Hermione’s body was intense and her breath became more and more labored as Harry continued to play with ‘Natasha’ and /’Carmella’/. After several minutes of focusing on her breasts, Harry trailed kisses down her taught tummy. He looked up at Hermione when he got to her cotton knickers and said, “If you want me to stop just say so-“
But Harry was cut off when Hermione nearly shouted at him, “If you don’t pull my damned knickers off right now, I swear to Merlin…!”
“Okay, okay…” placated Harry as he hooked his fingers around her panties. The young wizard took a fortifying breath before slowly tugging the cotton garment down. Hermione gasped as she became exposed to the morning air. Harry gulped as he saw something he hadn’t expected.
“S-s-sha-s-s-shaved?” he stammered as he examined Hermione’s flower.
“Yes,” Hermione replied sheepishly.
“S-s-sha-s-s-shaved?” he repeated, still stunned.
“It’s strictly for hygiene,” she explained, still a little sheepishly.
“C-c-co-com-c-completely s-s-sha-s-s-shaved?”
“Well, yes,” she answered, her sheepishness was suddenly replaced by a saucy grin. “You see, I’m very hygienic.”
‘Gryffindor was right,’ Harry thought to himself, ‘brainy girls are naughty!’
As Harry took in Hermione and all her wonder, he commented to himself internally that when Hermione had satisfied him earlier, she had an easier job… err sorry about that. When it came to his bits, all Harry had was ‘Harry, Jr.’ and his luggage. And the only way he could think of not fulfilling ‘Harry, Jr.’ was if teeth were used. But with Hermione’s bits there was so much more! According to the book that Harry had hidden in his school bag, there was the Mons Veneris, the clitoris and its hood, and the Labia. And as reported by the book, there were definitely bad ways in stimulating Hermione.
With a touch of trepidation, Harry started by gently kissing the area around her flower – which he had almost given a name of a flower, but seeing that both his mother and his aunt had flower names, he became content with just “flower.” It was apparent that Hermione enjoyed these tiny kisses, so Harry continued this course of action for a while. Harry kissed her nether lips and Hermione gasped, that’s when Harry decided that his tongue should come into play.
He used his fore and middle fingers on his left hand to softly pry open her petals. Harry used his tongue to trace Hermione’s outer and inner lips and her honey began to seep out. After a minute or two of working on her vagina and lips, Harry used his right thumb to gently push her hood back, exposing her clitoris. Hermione gasped when Harry’s tongue touched her clit.
The brunette witch started to writhe and moan while Harry worked on his budding… /err sorry again/… skills of cunnilingus. After two or three minutes, Harry noticed that Hermione seemed to be enjoying his attempts. To him, Hermione tasted warm, sweet, and musky. Little droplets of sweat were appearing all over her body and her breathing was heavier than before. It was at this point that he decided to push Hermione over the edge, so to speak, and use the techniques that he had read in the book concerning Parslemouths.
Pausing for a second from his operations, Harry closed his eyes and focused on an image of a snake in his mind in order to trigger his rare power. Since Harry could never tell if he was speaking Parseltongue or English, he asked Hermione: “Can you understand me?”
“Harry, why are you speaking in Parseltongue?” Hermione asked. “I can’t – OH SWEET BABY MAEVE!”
Hermione couldn’t finish her statement properly; because Harry was satisfied that he was using his Parselmouth abilities and started his cunnilingus once more. Almost immediately, Hermione thrashed around and alternated between moaning, growling, and occasionally, babbling incoherently.
“… swish and flick…” Hermione sputtered disjointedly while Harry twirled his magical tongue around her bud. “…powdered newt…nimbus….” As magic poured off of Harry’s tongue into Hermione, he could feel every muscle in her body tense up. “Oh. Oh. Oh, mamma!”
One of Hermione’s hands grabbed a tuff of Harry’s hair and tugged at him while her legs wrapped around his head and pulled him closer. It was at this point that ‘Harry, Jr.’ woke up again and desperately, almost painfully, wanted to play again. Harry thought about using one of his hands to relieve himself, but realized that this moment was for Hermione. He wanted to concentrate fully, mentally, physically, and emotionally, on her. He would take care of ‘Harry, Jr.’ later.
After a minute or two, Harry could sense the buildup in Hermione, but he could feel himself about to release as well. Hermione’s back arched and sweat poured off of her naked flesh. Her body was raked by shallow, quivering gasps of breath.
“Oh, gods, Harry!” Hermione shouted as a combined wave of magic and ecstasy passed through her body, and then through Harry’s. Her musky juices shot out of her pussy and filled his mouth. He tried his best to lap up her honey, but a large amount flowed out of his mouth and poured down his chin. Harry groaned into Hermione as he climaxed in the middle of her orgasm. The two teens didn’t notice the very loud bang that accompanied their simultaneous orgasms.
Slowly, Harry’s eyes took in the vision before him; Hermione lay on the bed, panting heavily, her body flushed and glistening. Her nether lips were red and swollen and her wetness still seeped out of her. The young man smiled with pride, because he didn’t need to ask Hermione if it was good for her. He could tell by the glow emanating from her body that she had thoroughly enjoyed his first efforts. Then it hit him, she was literally glowing! She was throwing off light! He was shocked to find that he was glowing softly as well. Harry was about to ask Hermione about this startling occurrence when he noticed that she had her eyes fixed on something behind him.
With her legs still draped over his shoulders, Harry turned his head and saw that except for the bed that they were currently using, every object in the room was floating six feet off of the ground. Every book, scrap piece of parchment, every article of clothing – Harry spotted Hermione’s knickers straight away, they were twirling slowly as if dancing- even the other beds hovered several feet in the air.
Before either of the two teens could discus these strange events, the door to the dorm room flew open and Tonks rushed in, waving her wand.
“Harry, are you okay?” the pink haired Auror shouted out, as she started to quickly scan the room. “I heard a…uh… bang?” Tonks paused as she finally noticed the two naked forms in front of her; Hermione glistening with sweat and her hair tossed this way and that, with Harry kneeling as if in prayer at Hermione’s altar and his face dripping with her love juice. A sardonic, almost wicked smile crept across Tonks’s face. But the smile was nothing compared to the devilish look in her eye. Both Hermione and Harry made a weak squeaking noise at that look.
To be continued!
