25Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor

25Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor

Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor

Chapter Twenty-Five: Dim-witted Theories and Troubles Abound

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-Five: The Talk of the Castle.

The next night, Harry and Hermione were alone in their Head Students’ quarters, reading quietly. Harry was going over his notes for Transfiguration, while Hermione read from their ‘special book.’ Every once in a while, the brunette witch had to readjust the squashy pillow she was using as a seat cushion. Despite a heaping dosage of Bruise Be Gone ointment and ample massaging from Harry, her bottom was still quite red and sore from the previous night’s spankings. Harry would’ve felt bad over Hermione’s discomfort, if the witch didn’t have a persistent satisfied grin etched on her face. She definitely was one kinky woman.

A soft knocking drew the teens’ attention to the door. Harry set his notes aside and went to see who was calling. The wizard was surprised to see Ginny, who had obviously been crying quite a bit judging by her red and puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks, standing in the hallway.

“Am I… am I interrupting?” she asked meekly and sniffled.

Genuinely concerned over Ginny’s condition, Harry ushered her in.

“Ginny, are you alright?” Hermione asked from the couch.

“No,” the red head sniffled again.

Hermione patted a spot close to her on the couch, indicating that Ginny should sit next to her. But instead of sitting, Ginny dove and threw her arms around Hermione’s neck. The younger witch openly sobbed into Hermione’s shoulder.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” cooed Hermione and she began rubbing the red head’s back. Harry joined the witches on the couch and placed a comforting hand on Ginny’s shoulder.

After a few minutes, Ginny calmed. Hiccupping, the red head pulled away from Hermione and leaned against the back of the couch.

“I’m in so much trouble,” the young witch bemoaned.

“Why? What happened, Ginny?” asked Harry. The red head’s lip quivered pathetically and Harry reassured “You can tell us, we’re your friends.”

“And Harry’s practically a brother, to boot,” Hermione said while looking directly at Harry, her eyes sparkling mischievously. Harry rolled his eyes; he couldn’t believe that his lover was asking for another paddling.

“I’m pregnant,” Ginny cried as her tears splashed down her face.

“Oh, Ginny,” Hermione said mournfully, her mischievous sparkle disappearing instantly.

Harry just put his arm around Ginny’s shoulders. He wanted to say something comforting, but the only thing he could think of to say was “I’ll miss you after your mum murders you,” but that was tactless so he kept quiet.

“Didn’t you use protection?” asked Hermione.

“Yes, all the time. I’ve always used the Inaedifico Charm,” Ginny said between sobs.

“What’s the Inaedifico Charm?” Harry asked Hermione over Ginny’s head.

“It’s a semen repellant,” the brunette explained. “It’s a spell that creates a barrier. Basically a witch uses the charm to keep any semen from reaching the cervix and therefore the womb. It’s very effective and simple to do. And it lasts three weeks with each casting. That’s why I use it.

“Are you sure you didn’t forget to recast it?” Hermione asked the crying witch.

“No, to be safe I recast it every two weeks,” she answered. “It’s Neville, he’s too big.”

“Honey, the size of Neville’s penis doesn’t mean he’s extra fertile,” Hermione said. “Besides, it doesn’t matter how fertile the wizard is, the Inaedifico Charm would work. It’s a very reliable contraceptive.”

“I know that. I’m talking about Neville’s length,” Ginny said, wiping away the tears from her eyes. “He’s so big, he bypasses the charm. The head of his willy actually pushes through my cervix. When we have sex, he cums right in my womb.”

“Pushes through your cervix?” Hermione echoed; her face a mixture of surprise and anguish. “Ow.”

“Oh, you get used to it after four or five times,” dismissed Ginny.

“Ow,” repeated Hermione. She had her hands clutched on the lower part of her belly in phantom pain. “Ow.”

“I need help,” implored Ginny. “What am I supposed to do? I’m scared.”

“Does Neville know?” asked Harry.

“No,” the red head said.

“And your parents don’t know?” Hermione asked.

“Of course not,” Ginny replied. “Do you think I’m mad? What should I do?”

“Well, Neville needs to know,” stated Harry. He imagined that if he were in Neville’s shoes, he’d want to know.

“And your parents should be told as well” added Hermione.

“You’re mad!” Ginny said, staring with terror filled eyes at Hermione. “Sure, I’ll tell Nev. But my parents? You’re barmy to think I’m going to tell my folks.”

“Ginny, they’re going to find out sooner or later,” Hermione explained. “I think it’ll be for the best if it’s sooner rather than later.”

Ginny turned the wizard and with a pleading expression, she begged “Harry, you’ll tell them for me, won’t you?”

“You think I’m suicidal or something?” he asked. “Because the moment I say the words ‘Ginny’s pregnant’ they’ll kill me.”

“But you’re not the father, they won’t get mad at you,” the red head pointed out.

“Won’t matter,” argued Harry. “All they’ll see is a bloke saying something about their princess being knocked up and they’ll kill me. I imagine it’s like an automatic response for parents.”

“But they love you,” Ginny urged.

“No, I’m with Harry on this. Either you by yourself or with Neville should tell your parents,” Hermione stated. She then added under her breath, “Cervix – ow!’

“Oh, God,” Ginny cried into her hands. “I’m dead! I’m dead! I’m dead!”

“Don’t be so melodramatic, Gin-Gin,” Harry said in a calm and soothing voice. “Sure your folks’ll be mad, at first. But you’re their little girl and they love you. Hell, it’s obvious they love babies too, otherwise they wouldn’t have had so many.” With this point, Ginny’s head snapped up and she looked at Harry as if he was brilliant. Encouraged by Ginny’s expression, Harry forged ahead. “I’m sure that once the baby is born, your mum and dad will forget all about this. They’d probably love the idea about being grandparents once they hold the little tyke for the first time.”

“You’re right Harry,” Ginny cheered with a genuine smile. “I’ll hide my pregnancy! And after I give birth, I’ll surprise Mum and Dad with the baby!”

“That’s not what I said,” Harry shot back.

“It won’t work,” added Hermione.

“Yes it will!” Ginny said gleefully. “I’ll just use some glamour charms to hide any bumps or whatnot and my parents will be none the wiser.”

“Ginny, please stop and think about this,” prayed Hermione.

“It’s brilliant,” Ginny said with sparkling eyes and a dazzling smile. “And once the baby is born, I’ll show it to Mum and Dad and they’ll love it just like you said, Harry!”

The red head bounced up from the couch and twirled happily as Harry tried to defend himself. “But I didn’t…”

“Thanks Harry, you’re a lifesaver!” Ginny congratulated before prancing out of the Head Boy and Girl’s chamber.

“Oh, this will not end well,” Hermione breathed out.

“Somehow, I think this will come back and bite me on the arse,” Harry pondered.


The next day at lunch, Harry, Hermione, and Ron leaned in close to Luna, as she was telling the trio the latest odd happening in the castle:

“Dennis Creevey is with Padma Patil?” Harry asked disbelievingly. “I thought he was gay.”

“No, his brother is the one who’s gay,” corrected Luna. “Dennis was just helping Colin hook up with you, which is a very lovely thing to do for one’s own sibling.”

“How did a bloke like Dennis get together with Padma?” inquired Ron as he wolfed down another helping of shepherd's pie. “I mean he’s three years younger than her. And she’s hot while he’s goofy looking.”

“I saw it with my own two eyes,” Luna said conversationally. “They were both getting dress as they stumbled out into the hallway. They saw me, giggled and kissed rather passionately before going their separate ways.”

“Maybe it was something else,” Hermione offered. She too had trouble wrapping her mind around the concept of Dennis and Padma together. “Maybe she was giving him a tutoring session and the kiss was innocent.”

“Possible, but I doubt it. It was a tongue kiss, after all. Pink organs fighting for dominance in one another’s mouth, and all that,” explained Luna. “And when I said that they were getting dressed, I meant that Padma’s left breast was exposed. She has lovely skin by the way; blemish-free and very soft looking. And as they parted, Padma gave Dennis’ groin a good squeeze. He still had an erection; I could see the outline of his crown and shaft pressing against the fabric of his trousers. Oh, he also smelled like sex when he passed me. But maybe you’re right and it was innocent.”

“Maybe it was a very good tutoring session,” Harry feebly defended Hermione’s speculation.

“Oh, and speaking about sex, Ronald and I finally broke our dry spell,” Luna said happily.

“You had a dry spell?” Harry asked… and instantly regretted it. The blonde witch had a tendency to be a little too open about such topics.

“Yes, ever since Snape’s admission of masturbating constantly,” Luna paused and shivered in disgust. “Please don’t misunderstand; I happen to think masturbation is a lovely act. Just last week, I watched Ronald pleasure himself for me.”

“Luna, they don’t need to know,” Ron said in embarrassment.

“It was a beautiful and loving moment,” Luna continued despite Ron’s objections. “But Snape is nothing more than a disgusting and foul man. The mere idea of him having sex, even a solo act, is just as disgusting as the greasy git himself. That excuse for a man defiled a beautiful deed for me with his hateful tale.”

Harry did his best to try and block any unwanted images of Snape out of his mind.

“So for the past few days I haven’t been able to even think about sex,” Luna said. “Every time I tried to be intimate with my husband, I could only see an image of that foul man with his penis in his hand. Drooling while abusing himself like some deranged madman.”

Harry eyed the fork in his hand and pondered over the notion of jabbing the utensil into his eye and shoving it into his brain. He was beginning to warm up to the idea that he could use the fork to lobotomize himself in order to remove the image that Luna had just created.

“But last night, I was finally able to overcome the horror that Snape had created, and my Ronald and I made love,” Luna beamed at her husband. “First he took me on the couch, then the bed, and a desk. And then I was able to fulfill Ronald’s heartfelt wishes.”

The blonde witch held up her fore and middle fingers and wriggled them proudly.

“Oh, look at the time, class is starting,” Hermione said and shot up, clearly disturbed by what Luna was describing. She grabbed Harry, who was beyond shocked at Luna’s gesture, by the hand and dragged him out of the seat.

“Lessons don’t start for another quarter hour, Hermione,” said Luna while still wriggling her fingers like two burrowing worms. At this moment, Ron had his face hidden behind his hands, deeply embarrassed. Harry meanwhile was still clutching the fork and seriously debating the lobotomy option.

“Well, then we… uh…it’s Head Boy and Girl stuff,” Hermione said nervously. “Harry and I have to do… things,” she finished lamely and dashed out of the Great Hall with Harry in tow.


By dinner that evening, the news of Dennis’ and Padma’s relationship had spread like wildfire. Not that Harry, Hermione, Ron, or Luna had talked about it, which they didn’t. It was the fact that Dennis had gone down on Padma after lessons were done for the day. Of course what made it widely known was that the two did this by the lake where they had attracted a good sized crowd that allegedly cheered the couple on.

Now that their relationship wasn’t a secret (nor had they apparently wanted it to remain a secret seeing the public sex and all), Padma and Dennis sat next to each other, feeding each other bits of food as they looked longingly into their partner’s eyes.

Then, something occurred to Harry, as he looked over the students gathered in the Great Hall. He noticed that a number of the student body were paired up, much more so than usual. Dean Thomas was with Mandy Brocklehurst. Tracy Davis was in Terry Boot’s lap. Megan Jones was kissing Theodore Nott. And dozens of other couples were scattered through the Hall.

Harry eyed his pumpkin juice. Had someone spiked it with a love potion or something? He was suddenly scared; Harry had stopped checking his own meals once the more aggressive House Elf sect had stopped punishing him with platefuls of steaming excrement for his sin of “deflowering the Great One.” However given the widespread impact, a love potion was the only feasible reason he could come up with to explain this current “love fest” that was gripping Hogwarts.

“Hey guys,” Ginny said as she walked into the Great Hall. She was supporting Neville who had just looked like he had thrown up several times. He was deathly pale and his eyes where wide and blank.

“What’s with Neville?” Ron asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Ginny said with a nervous dismissal. The red head witch looked at Harry and Hermione and slipped them a note. “C’mon sweetie, lets get you some food,” Ginny said to Neville and led him down to an empty spot.

Harry unfolded the note and held it so that only he and Hermione could read it. It read:

“I just told him. I think he’s taking it rather well.”

Harry looked down the table at Neville. The wizard looked close to fainting. If Ginny considered that “taking it rather well’ he wondered what Ginny considered taking it poorly.

“I still think Expelliarmus can defeat You Know Who,” Ron offered suddenly, pulling Harry away from his thoughts regarding love potions and accidental pregnancies (which, between Ginny and Tonks, had been happening quite a bit lately).

“Not again, Ron,” moaned Hermione.

“No, no, hear me out,” persisted Ron. “I’m not talking about a normal Expelliarmus, but one cast from a super wand.”

Harry looked to his girlfriend and asked, “Is there such a thing as a super wand?”

She shrugged and answered, “We just turned a bit of string into a pterodactyl in our last class, so I guess anything is possible.”

“Yes, they are true. I’ve heard that Dumbledore had one,” Ron stated. “How else do you think he was able to do such wonderful stuff? Because he had a super wand, that’s how!”

“Actually, I think he could do those things because he was talented and studied hard,” Hermione challenged.

Harry saw Ron lean forward with his face beginning to turn an angry red and Hermione was copying his actions. The two were evidently ready for yet another heated argument.

“Okay, let’s just say Dumbledore had a super wand,” Harry speculated, trying to stem the fight that was about to ensue between Ron and Hermione. “How did he get it?”

“Easy; when he beat Grindelwald,” Ron answered in a haughty tone, as if he was proud that he knew something Hermione didn’t. “Grindelwald’s wand was called the Senior Wand, or something like that, and when Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald back in ‘45, the wand was passed to Dumbledore.”

“Um that really doesn’t make sense, Ron,” Harry said in as kind of way as possible as to not anger his excitable friend. “Back in fifth year, when we took our OWLs, we met someone who tested Dumbledore in his NEWTs when the Headmaster was a student. He said that Dumbledore was able to do wondrous things that he had ever seen. And that would have been decades before he defeated Grindelwald. Which means that Hermione was right, Dumbledore didn’t have a super wand, he was just skilled and talented.”

“Yeah, he may have wowed that bloke, but I heard Dumbledore got a super wand off of Grindelwald and that’s why he was so powerful,” Ron insisted. Knowing that Ron would not stop until he was finished, even if his reasoning and logic were flawed, Harry let his friend continue.

“I also heard that when you defeat someone and disarm them that they can no longer use their own wand because it belongs to you now,” Ron continued with his wild theory. Harry could feel Hermione about to protest, but he squeezed her hand, urging her to let Ron say his peace. “And that’s what happened with the Senior Wand; Dumbledore was able to beat Grindelwald thereby rendering the super wand useless to Grindelwald and making it his own.”

“So what you’re saying is that I should dig up Dumbledore and snatch his wand, this Senior Wand?” Harry asked tentatively.

“Yes, but first you’d have to duel and defeat Draco,” Ron clarified… if one could call it clarification.

“Why Draco?” asked Harry. And trying his best to lower himself to Ron’s argument, the raven haired wizard countered, “Why not Snape? He was the one who killed Dumbledore.”

“You see, that’s where you misunderstand the logic of it all,” Ron said with a superior grin. Harry had to bite his tongue and not say something about howler monkeys and logic. “Snape killed Dumbledore in order to save Draco from becoming a murderer. Therefore, Draco was the one who defeated Dumbledore, not Snape.”

Harry felt the tinge of an approaching migraine forming in his frontal lobe. He heard Hermione begin to mutter a question, but the brunette was so confused by Ron’s train of thought that all she was able to enunciate was “Wha?”

“So, let’s just march over to Malfoy, whoop his arse, then fetch the Senior Wand and you’ll be unstoppable Harry,” Ron concluded, seeming as if he was congratulating himself for a splendid argument.

“Ron, your theory is flawed in one area,” began Hermione, recovering from her befuddlement.

“And what area is that?” the red head asked confident that he could challenge Hermione.

“It’s stupid,” she concluded.

“What do you mean it’s stupid?” Ron demanded with annoyance.

“If a person’s wand is rendered useless when he is defeated, how was Snape able to kill Dumbledore? You, Harry, and I beat Snape in our third year; we knocked him out and disarmed him. So by your logic, his wand has been useless to him since then,” explained Hermione. “Therefore Snape couldn’t have used his wand to kill Dumbledore because he wouldn’t have been able to use it seeing that it is ours by right of conquest.”

“Also, your theory about the secession of the Senior Wand doesn’t work either,” Harry added in a compassionate way.

“How is that?” Ron asked with a frown.

“Well, you say that Draco is the current possessor of the Senior Wand because Snape killed Dumbledore in order to save the wanker,” Harry summarized. “But Snape was acting on Dumbledore’s direct orders; not only to save Malfoy from becoming a murderer but to end his own suffering. And since Snape was acting on Dumbledore’s orders, the greasy git was, in effect, Dumbledore’s tool. The idea of succession through defeat can’t apply here. Dumbledore was basically committing suicide, using the situation to try to redeem Malfoy for some reason and end his own suffering. Therefore he basically defeated himself. Not Snape and definitely not Malfoy.”

Luna placed a comforting hand on Ron’s shoulder and said soothingly, “Ronald, my love, next time you have one of these ideas, run it by me first so that you don’t sound like a fool, okay?”

Just as Ron nodded his head in compliance, another group of people walked up to Harry. This time it was Seamus Finnegan and he had one arm draped over Lavender Brown and the other around Parvati Patil. All three looked extremely pleased and each had a glistening sheen to their skin.

“Tanks, Har-ee, ‘or tha bes’,” Seamus slurred. He sounded as if his tongue had gone numb and was having difficulty speaking clearly. Despite this handicap, Seamus was grinning wildly. “Ree-min’ ‘e ta by ‘ou ah pressen’.”

With that, Lavender and Parvati giggled like school-girls – which, technically, they were – and dragged Seamus out of the Great Hall. Before they got too far, Harry heard the two witches interact:

“I get the top, you get the bottom.”

“But you got the top first last time. I want to go first.”

Hermione picked up her goblet and eyed the liquid contents “Did someone spike the pumpkin juice?” she asked, mirroring Harry’s earlier thought.


That night, in the safety of their chamber, where none of the weird activity of their peers could interrupt them, Harry and Hermione were again reading. Harry read a book on Quidditch while Hermione continued to read the Tantric rituals book. The bespectacled wizard liked it when Hermione read the ‘special book,’ as it usually meant they were going to try something exciting.

“This is a very interesting ritual,” Hermione commented as she read over a small section in Harry’s ‘special book.’

“What does it do?” the raven haired wizards asked, not looking up from his homework. He was trying not to lose his cool over the idea that Hermione had just found an interesting segment. What he wanted to do was shout “Let’s perform the ritual!” not really caring what it did, but that would make him look desperate. And a touch sad.

“It’s called the ‘Morgy Ritual.’ It can cause pain through magical connections, such as the Dark Mark,” Hermione summarized. “All we have to do is draw this channeling symbol, and then either write down the name of the magical connection, or draw a symbol of that connection, and then have sex.”

“So basically we’d draw the Dark Mark, indicating our targets are Death Eaters, and then have sex,” Harry recapped.

“Yes,” Hermione agreed. She continued to explain the ritual; “If we perform the ritual with ‘mild intensity’ it will cause the targets to feel a slight pain, something like a bad itch. But a heightened intensity will cause the targets incredible pain; akin to the sensation of being on fire.”

“So a tussle in the sack will make everyone baring the Dark Mark feel pain?” asked Harry.


“And the more intense the sex, the more pain the Death Eaters will feel?”

“Um,” she paused and quickly rechecked the text. “Yes.”

“Well then, Miss Granger, prepare for several screaming orgasms,” Harry said and tugged his robes off in a manly fashion. In the process, the wizard managed to tear the clasp off of his robes. He would have to use a Stitching Charm to reattach it later. But at least the action looked manly.

A rosy bloom graced the witch’s cheeks in anticipation. Deftly, Hermione flicked the clasp on her robes open. Unlike Harry, she didn’t tear anything, meaning she wouldn’t have to waste her time sewing things like he would.

“Just how many screaming orgasms?” she asked while slowly unbuttoning her blouse.

“As many as it takes,” he replied and lowered his trousers. “This is for justice after all. Dealing out punishment to the wicked and whatnot is my duty.”

“Did you say ‘punishment to the wicked’?” Hermione asked coyly while still undoing her top. “Because my bottom is still a little sore. And even though I am ‘wicked’ and I like ‘punishment’ I think we should wait a while for another spanking.”

“Gotcha, no spankings,” Harry said and he began rapidly unbuttoning his shirt. He had decided not to do the manly thing and tear it open; he really didn’t like sewing. “I’ll just stick to using my parsletongue abilities.”

Harry dropped his underwear and stepped out of them while Hermione slowly opened her blouse. ‘Harry, Jr.’ grumbled about fair-play; here was Harry, completely naked, and Hermione still had her skirt and bra on. And, added to the penis’ ire, the ‘special book,’ lovely and wonderful as it was, was still on her lap. That meant it was blocking one of ‘Harry, Jr.’’s favorite entrances, damn it! Ignoring his appendage’s impatience, Harry continued to toy with his girlfriend. “How many climaxes do you think it’ll take to deal out punishment to the Death Eaters?”

“Like you said, as many as it takes,” she said, running her fingers over the edges of her cotton bra.

“Well, then, I’ll just have to do my best,” Harry boasted, hopping in place in eagerness. “I reckon that I’ll pleasure you so much that my tongue will be numb by the time I’m finished.”

Hermione bit her lip. Her blush deepened as she said, “You’ll be talking like Seamus then.”

“Sacrifices have to be made for justice. What’s a little numb tongue compared to punishing evil Death Eaters?”

With a gleeful expression, Hermione went to move the tantric magic book off of her lap. When her eyes fell on the text, the witch’s eyes grew wide and her joyful demeanor disappeared in a flash.

Recognizing that look, Harry asked “What is it?”

“I misread it,” Hermione practically whimpered. “It states we need more than two.”

“And I plan on giving you more than two,” Harry said with naked pride. “In fact, I plan on giving you so many that you lose consciousness. And I’ll probably continue to give you more when you’re asleep because I’m feeling frisky right now. It’s for justice after all.”

“No, Harry, not multiple orgasms, multiple partners,” Hermione corrected.

Harry blinked once. “Oh.”

He blinked again and asked, “By multiple you mean more than you and me?”

“Yes. To achieve the itching sensation in our targets I told you about, we would need a m?ge ?rois.”

“Manage a what?” asked a perplexed Harry.

“A threesome, Harry,” Hermione pointed out. “For a burning sensation akin to a bad rash, we would need four people. And for the target to feel utter pain, we would need at least six participants.”

“Oh,” Harry repeated. Causing pain to every marked Death Eater was appealing. Perhaps there was a way around it. “Maybe we can get Ron and Luna to join in,” he offered.

“Excuse me?” Hermione asked, clearly offended.

“You know, Ron and Luna can use the spare room while we’re in ours,” explained Harry. “We’ll just put up some silencing charms so we don’t hear each other.”

“You misunderstand, Harry,” she replied. “By multiple partners, the book said we have to share in the ritual.”


“Meaning once Ron and Luna, and then you and I had our go, we would need to swap partners,” Hermione said with thinly veiled annoyance. “Which means you’d have to have sex with Luna and…” she punctuated these next words as if they were the most important part of her argument; “…I would have to sleep with RON! EWW!”

“They’re our friends and I love them,” admitted Harry. “But I don’t ‘love them’ love them.”


“They may have seen us have sex through Pensieve memories,” Harry continued. “But this would be entirely different. And different in a bad way.”

“All that red hair.”

“I don’t mind sharing some things, but there is a point where sharing becomes too much.”

“It would be like shagging a circus clown.”

Harry looked at his lover. “He’s still our friend. We don’t need to be cruel.”

“Circus clown,” she stated factually. “He already has the orange-ish red hair and abnormally big feet. All he needs to finish the ensemble is a red-rubber nose.”

“You don’t seem all that upset over the notion of me sleeping with Luna in this little scenario,” Harry dared to point out, hoping that Hermione would take it for the joke that it was intended to be.

“Well she isn’t a clown like Ron, is she?” Hermione replied. “Besides, what would you do with those enormous tits of hers? Honestly? Each one is bigger than your head. You wouldn’t know what to do with them.”

“I’d use them as a pillow,” he said with a naughty smile. “A big, soft, warm pillow.”

“We could both use her breast as pillows,” Hermione snorted a laugh. “You sleep on the left one I’ll get the right.”

The couple shared a belly laugh at the thought. After a moment, Hermione became more serious. “It’s too bad though about the ritual. It would’ve been nice to make those lousy Death Eaters suffer.”

“Can’t we still do it?” asked Harry. “Just ourselves mind you. I mean with both of our power boost, we should be able to perform it.”

“No, in this case, the participants’ power level has no effect on the ritual,” Hermione said with a pout. “In fact, according to this, some of the people could even be squibs and the outcome would still be the same.”

“Shame that,” Harry said, trying to look like he was deeply disappointed. The curled up edges of his mouth ruined the affect. “Oh well, I guess I’ll just have to give you several screaming orgasms just for fun then, justice be damned.”

With that, Harry leapt on his lover and tore at her skirt. A few scant minutes later, the first of many “OH SWEET BABY MAEVE!” was heard.


Later that week, Harry had come up with a rather brilliant plan. He had decided to perform the Wit Enhancing ritual that Hermione had created and then, once he was recuperated, they would do the han – err – searching ritual. This was brilliant for two reasons; first, he believed that with the temporary boost in his intelligence, he’d be able to deduce where the missing Horcrux was hidden. And second, this plan was brilliant because it involved two different sex acts, which were always fun.

To prepare for the Wit Enhancing ritual, Hermione warmed up by stretching so that she could hold the awkward position needed for it. And Harry warmed up both himself and his lover for the ritual by kissing, licking, and suckling Hermione’s various bits. After shouting the proper incantation of “Maximus Intellegentia!” when his climax hit him, Harry felt the wave of magic pass through him. He knew that the ritual had increased his intelligence because as he waited for his stamina to return, he and Hermione speculated that the cooling weather this season would make the skins of Mandrakes particularly thick, making the plants overly bitter and angry.

An hour or two after performing the Wit Enhancing ritual, Harry and Hermione started the han – err – other ritual. A few seconds after Hermione began to massage Harry and while both teens chanted their separate incantations, they felt the now familiar sensations of their spirits leaving their bodies. Once again, astral-Harry and Hermione dove through the air and ended up in the darkness. Unfortunately, their increased intelligence shed little light on the darkness. In fact, while they hovered in the inky blackness, the two lovers discussed the esoteric ramifications of the color black and what it various meanings meant for mankind throughout the ages.

Despite the fact that they weren’t able to discern the location of the missing Horcrux, Harry suggested that they attempt the ritual again immediately upon returning to his body.

“You just want me to give you another hand-job,” Hermione said in a reproachable fashion.

“Yes,” he replied with all honestly. He then went on to lecture on the numerous health benefits of an active sex life.


A few days later, after the effects of the wit enhancing ritual wore off, Harry and Hermione made their way to their chambers after their lessons had ended for the day. Harry was pleasantly surprised to find Remus waiting for them in the Head Students’ common room.

“What’s up, Moony?” he asked as Hermione shut the door.

“I’m sorry to bother you two,” Remus said apologetically. “But something rather curious has come up.”

“What is it?” asked Hermione.

“Do you believe in reincarnation?” the older wizard asked sincerely.

“I’ve never really given it much thought,” Harry said.

“I’ve read some books on the subject,” offered Hermione.

“Well, prepare to be amazed,” Remus stated and he opened the door leading to Harry and Hermione’s room.

Slowly, little Sirius, Remus’ son, came out of the room. The infant didn’t crawl; in fact he walked upright, on two wobbly legs.

“He’s not supposed to do that,” Hermione said to Remus. “Sirius is too young to be able to even crawl, much less walk.”

“Then I guess I shouldn’t be able to talk either,” the infant said in a squeaky voice.

“What the hell is going on?” Harry asked in shock as he stared at the talking infant.

“Harry, Hermione, I’m Sirius,” the baby stated.

“Yes, we know that,” Hermione said.

“No, not ‘Sirius, Remus’ son,’ I’m Sirius, Remus’ old lover and Harry’s godfather,” the baby corrected.

“You can’t be able to talk,” Hermione balked.

“Wait… Sirius was gay?” Harry asked in disbelief. “I thought he was a ladies’ man?”

“No, we only referred to your father in that way,” Remus pointed out. “Never once did we mention our sexuality to you, Harry. Not because we weren’t proud, but because we were private.”

“Wait, you’re gay?” Harry asked Remus again.

“The proper term is bisexual, but yes, I’m gay,” the older wizard answered. “Having a Metamorphmagus as a wife really does have its benefits, especially in the sack.”

“Hey, remember me,” the baby waved his chubby little arm to get everyone’s attention. “I’m the issue here, not the fact that Remus liked to slob knobs.”

“Crude as always,” Remus criticized, rolling his eyes in disapproval.

“I could remind a certain someone in this room that he used to particularly enjoy my crude language, especially when that certain someone and I were locked up in dark and cramped broom cupboards, but I won’t,” little Sirius commented. “We need to find out how this happened.”

“The baby is talking!” Hermione said in shocked disbelief while pointing at Sirius.

“Well, that’s the point. But, I’m not a baby, not really,” little Sirius said. “I’m Sirius Black. I went to school with Remus, James, Lily, Wormtail, and Snape. I fought in the first war as a member of the Order of the Phoenix, was betrayed by Wormtail, chucked in Azkaban, escaped, met you, Harry, went on the run, then got locked up in Grimmauld Place, fell through the Veil in the Department of Mysteries. The next thing I know, I’m getting pushed out of my cousin’s womb. How’d this happen?”

“The baby is talking!” Hermione, still in shock, repeated.

“Hermione, I need your brains right now,” Remus said and it seemed to draw the brunette witch out of her stupor. “You’re one of the brightest people I know and I need you to figure out what happened.”

Clearly bolstered by Remus’ compliment, Hermione snapped to attention. “So, he’s Sirius?” she questioned.

“Yes, he has all of Sirius’ memories and experiences,” Remus summarized. “I don’t know if it was because of that ritual you and Harry tricked us into doing, or the fact that I’m a werewolf and Tonks’ is a Metamorphmagus. Or even a combination of different things that caused this.”

“Wait, wait,” Hermione demanded. “I read some cases of reincarnation. But I have never heard of one where the person has retained all of their memories from their past lives. It’s never happened.”

“Well, it happened to me, Hermione,” Sirius said.

“But it’s not possible,” she countered. “The cases I read stated that sometimes a few vague memories may remain, but nothing like what you’re describing. You must be mistaken. Surely you can’t be Sirius.”

A tiny, impish grin appeared on both Remus and the baby, as if they had been expecting Hermione’s comment. With his squeaky voice, little Sirius uttered “I am serious, and don’t call me Shirley.”

Harry paused a second before saying “Wait, I’ve heard that before. On the telly I think.”

Hermione turned and faced Harry. It was clear by her expression that she was about to ask him what he was talking about when realization suddenly dawned upon her. “Oh, you cheeky bastard!” Hermione cursed at Remus. She pointed an accusatory finger at the older wizard and loudly scolded again, “Cheeky bastard!”

“Shh, you’ll wake the baby,” Remus said between peals of laughter.

“Oh, yes, Hermione shouting will wake up the baby, not his father laughing like a baboon,” Tonks sarcastically commented as she walked out of Harry and Hermione’s room. Bundled in the pink haired witch’s arms was a smiling baby Sirius.

Harry’s eyes darted between the two copies of baby-Sirius. He asked, pointing to the baby in Tonks’ arms “If that’s Sirius, then who’s that?” and pointed at the one standing next to Remus.

“That’s Courtney, under polyjuice,” informed a still laughing Remus. “She begged to be part of a prank against the two of you. How could we refuse?”

“Can I sit down now?” Courtney said in the baby’s squeaky voice. “I haven’t any bloody kneecaps thanks to being an infant, and it hurts to stand.”

As the polyjuiced Auror plopped down on the ground, Harry shot a disbelieving look at Remus. “You brewed polyjuice, which takes a month to do, just to pull one of the oldest and most clich?jokes in the world?”

“Yes!” cheered Remus.

Obviously encouraged by his father’s laughter, the real Sirius began to chuckle. Well, actually, he made more of gurgling and spitting sounds, but you could tell that he was trying to laugh along with his dad. The cute sounds that the real baby-Sirius was making lightened Harry’s and Hermione’s moods.

“I can’t believe you went through all the trouble of brewing polyjuice just so you can prank us with the ‘Sirius-serious’ joke,” Hermione guffawed.

“If it isn’t broken, don’t fix it,” Remus said proudly.

“What I don’t get is the whole gay thing?” asked Harry.

“Adding elements of the truth in a prank always heightens the realism of it,” Remus responded.

“Wait, you really are gay?” Hermione asked, taken back slightly.

“As I told you before, I’m bisexual,” corrected Remus.

“Not before you met me, you weren’t,” Tonks interjected. “You only liked blokes until I came along.”

“So you and Sirius were a couple?” Harry asked, ashamed he hadn’t realized.

“Yes, we were,” Remus said with a pleasant smile. “We were lovers but we broke up over a tiff we had shortly before Wormtail betrayed us all. Then we reconnected after the year I taught at Hogwarts. And we reconnected several hundred times while he was locked up in Grimmauld Place.”

Harry experienced a moment of happiness. He realized that he was happy with the thought that at least his godfather had some comfort before he died.

“So that comment about Tonks’ metamorphmagus abilities being a benefit was true?” Hermione asked tentatively.

“Yes, Hermione. Not only can I change my appearance, I can change my plumbing too,” Tonks said with a smile. The pink haired witch walked up to Hermione and confided; “You gain a whole new appreciation for how much blokes love blow-jobs when you can grow a willy and have it sucked on.”

“Oh,” uttered Hermione as she blushed a deep ruby red.

“I don’t mean to be a pest, but the polyjuice is about to wear off,” Courtney said. “And seeing how I’m only wearing a nappy, I’ll be pretty much naked. Now, I know how kinky Hermione and Harry are, but I don’t want to give them a show.”

“Alright, we’d better leave then,” Remus said.

After saying their goodbyes, Harry and Hermione were left alone.

“So, what should we do now?” Harry asked. He was hoping Hermione would ask for suggestions to which he’d offer “How about you bend over the desk…” but unfortunately, Hermione stated;

“I have to head to the Library and study.” She scooped up some parchment and quills. “Professor McGonagall offered me some extra credit and I’m taking her up on it.”

“But, your grade is around one hundred and eighty percent already. Why do you need extra credit?” complained Harry.

“It never hurts to get on Professor McGonagall’s good side,” Hermione stated.

“Her good side? Merlin, Hermione, McGonagall loves you so much right now I’d bet she has you in her will.”

“Maybe you should learn from my example,” Hermione challenged. “You could always boost your marks up a bit. How about you join me and we both can get some extra credit?”

“No,” he said automatically. “I’ve been reading and studying all day long. It’s time for a break.”

Fine, it’s your loss,” Hermione said and made her way out of the room.

Harry grumbled. He was looking forward to making love with Hermione. So much so that ‘Harry, Jr.’ was stirring from his slumber. The organ was slowly risingand asked where Hermione was. For a moment, Harry considered taking the issue in hand – literally – and alleviate himself. But he had a girlfriend now and therefore he shouldn’t have to do this solo anymore. Grumpily, Harry flopped down on the couch.

A loose piece of parchment sticking out of one of Harry’s books on Quidditch caught his eye. He remembered that he had written down something and placed in a book back when he was under the effects of the Wit Enhancing ritual, but like all things he learned or thought during that time, Harry had only fuzzy recollections. Curious as to what he had written, Harry reached over and pulled the paper out of the book. It was a note, in his hand, addressed to himself. It read;

“Dear Harry,

Since you cannot remember things that occurred clearly, I have written this note.

I had a wonderful idea for a charm, and thanks to the boosted intelligence I received, I created it. I have not told Hermione about this spell because I want it to be a surprise.

It is called Loninquitas Amorus. I won’t go into detail how I created or how it works because I know how feeble your mind is…”

Harry paused in his reading. Had he just insulted his own intelligence? As if he had somehow predicted this question back when he wrote the note, the next line stated;

“Yes, I just insulted your intelligence, get over it.

Now back to the charm; the name Loninquitas Amorus literally means ‘Distance Love.’ Basically, with this spell, you will be able to pleasure Hermione from a distance. There is no physical contact, penetration, or liquid exchange. Hermione will only experience sensations and feelings. Just purse your lips in a kiss and imagine that you are kissing her and Hermione will have the sensation of actually being kissed. The same applies for foreplay; if you move your fingers about while focusing on Hermione’s ‘flower’ she’ll get the sensation of being stimulated. Same tactics apply to oral sex; work your tongue while pretending to eat her out and she’ll get the sensation.

Sex is even simpler than anything else. The technique you’ll need to perform this part of the charm is something you’ve been practicing for years; masturbation. While you’re wanking yourself, imagine that Hermione is wrapped around your organ instead of your hand.

The incantation is Loninquitas Amorus if you haven’t figured that out already. The necessary wand movements and spell intents are fully detailed on the second sheet of parchment.

Yours… or rather ‘me’s,’


A nasty smile stretched across Harry’s face. He got up from the couch and fetched his Invisibility Cloak and made his way to the Library. He reckoned it was high-time to test out this new charm.

Once he was close to the Library, Harry slipped into a classroom. There, he cast a Silencing Charm around himself, jotted down a quick note, and tossed the Invisibility Cloak over his body. With the combination of Cloak and the Silencing Charm, no one would be able to see or hear Harry as he performed his new charm on Hermione. Well except for Moody’s Magical Eye, and he wasn’t anywhere near the library, so it’s the same thing.

Walking into the Library, Harry noted that it was rather crowded. A group of fifth year Slytherins was in the Divination section, while two sixth year Ravenclaws were browsing Ancient Runes. And located next to the table where Hermione was doing some light reading (only four books at the moment) was nearly a dozen second years from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, huddled around a large tome. Pince, the Librarian, was scuttling from group to group, making sure no one was up to any shenanigans.

Silently, Harry slinked up to Hermione and placed the note he had just written on the book she was reading. When he pulled his hand away, it must’ve looked like the note popped into existence to Hermione. Before reading the scrap of paper, Hermione looked around, trying to find Harry, obviously knowing that he was hiding under his Cloak. Giving up on trying to find her lover, Hermione read the note.

“I created a new charm and I’m going to test it out. Just try and remain quiet.



Hermione eyes narrowed in question as Harry took his place a few feet away from her. Whether she was going to ask what type of charm it was, why would she have to try to be quiet, or how on earth Harry was able to create a charm didn’t matter. Under his Cloak, Harry waved his wand in the proscribed manner and incanted “Loninquitas Amorus.”

Harry pursed his lips and imagined pressing them to Hermione’s. He pretended to take in her scent. He saw his girlfriends eyes widened in surprise. She reached up and touched her lips, clearly wondering why it felt like she was being kissed. Harry parted his lips and slid his tongue out, remembering what it felt like to have his tongue roll around Hermione’s mouth. A fetching blush grew on Hermione’s cheeks.

Satisfied that the charm was working so far, Harry decided to progress further. He imagined trailing kisses down Hermione chin, neck, and to her breasts. The brunette witch gave a startled little jump when Harry mimed tweaking her nipples. He magically worked on her breasts for some time, licking, suckling, tweaking, and caressing air. Hermione fidgeted slightly as the sensation of having Harry kiss and fondle her body overcame her.

Smiling, Harry moved onto the next part of his plan. He held his hand in front of his face, extended his fore and middle finger, spreading them out in a “v” and began to lick the space between his fingers. Hermione sat bolt straight in her chair as she felt Harry’s tongue on her nether lips. Eyes bulging and darting in every direction, the witch was clearly worried that someone would notice her predicament. And knowing how kinky his witch was, Harry was positive that the threat of discovery was turning Hermione on even more.

Tiny beads of sweat blossomed on Hermione’s brow. Harry assumed that she must’ve been practically flowing at that time. But, he wanted more out of her. Tapping into his love core, Harry activated his parseltongue ability.

“That’s cheating!” Hermione muttered under her breath. Almost instantaneously, she began to gyrate her hips, grinding her bum and other bits into her seat. “Cheating! Unfair! Cheating!” she chanted in a soft voice.

A short while later, Hermione began to tremble. Harry knew that she wanted to cry out in ecstasy but she was forcing it back. Her mouth opened and her lips formed a tight “o.” The witch’s eyelids were half closed. Harry realized that his lover was about to have one hell of a climax. He guessed that it must’ve been the combination of his parsletongue magic, the threat of being found out, and books – which were a turn on for Hermione – that was eliciting such a response from her.

Suddenly, Hermione gripped the edge of the table and stomped her feet down. Seemingly involuntarily, her bottom rose up off of the seat two or three inches. The witch let out a long, shuttering “o-o-oh!” before slowly lowering herself back onto the chair.

While she caught her breath, Hermione looked over at the group of second years just a few feet away. Thankfully, none of them had seemed to have noticed her actions. While Hermione was attempting to regain her composure, Harry pulled a very eager ‘Harry, Jr.’ out of his trousers. The raven haired wizard spat a large amount of saliva onto his palm and spread it over his organ. He spat once more and remembered the actual sensation of what it felt like to make love to Hermione. The wizard gripped his “wand” and slowly stroked himself.

Hermione’s eyes shot open, wider than they ever had before. It looked like her eyes were threatening to leap out of her skull and roll across the table.

“Oh, my,” she muttered softly.

Inch by inch, Harry slowly moved his hand down his shaft. Then, just as slowly, he slid his hand back up. He repeated this twice more and Hermione’s hands gripped the table, her feet stomped the ground, and her lips formed an “o” once again. Harry marveled at Hermione’s reaction, she was already approaching another orgasm. Apparently, his new spell was working wonderfully.

Harry continued to masturbate for several minutes. During this time Hermione had no less than three orgasms, each one threatening her resolve not to cry out passionately. She had sweated so much that her hair clung to her face, which was glowing red.

“Miss Granger, are you well?” Madame Pince asked.

Harry had been so intent on Hermione that he had not seen the Librarian walk up to her table.

“YES!” Hermione said a little too vehemently.

Harry wanted to stop, but he was so damn close that his hand wouldn’t listen. It continued to pump away involuntarily.

“I’m f-f-fine, ma…ma’am,” Hermione stuttered. With a touch of horror, Harry could tell that another orgasm was about to hit his lover any second. Thankfully though, Harry was in a similar state. He took comfort knowing that it would soon be over.

“You look ill, girl,” Pince pressed.

“O-oh, its n-n-nothing,” insisted Hermione rather breathily. “It’s j-just my ah-ah-allergies.”

“You should go see Madame Pomfrey,” suggested Pince. “She has a number of allergy remedies.”

“I’ll do-do-do that,” agreed Hermione. Then it was upon her. Harry saw her eyes grow wide in a combination of ecstasy and terror. A very large climax was about to claim her. And judging by the look of fear in her eyes, Harry knew that Hermione wouldn’t be able to stifle any cries that would ensue. Hermione took in a great, deep breath and Harry tensed, waiting for her scream of passion.

“AH-CHOO!” Hermione let out a very loud and very fake sneeze. “AH-CHOO!” she echoed and her feet kicked out. She threw her head back and “sneezed” several times in succession. “AH! AHHH! AH-AH-CHOO! AH-CHOOOOooo! AH-CHOO!” Harry was wincing at Hermione’s utter lack of acting ability. He was honestly surprised that the librarian was buying those clearly fake sneezes.

As his lover continued to hide her screaming orgasm with sneezes, Harry finally joined her in ecstasy. With a grunt, Harry ejaculated.

“My, that was a mighty large one,” Pince commented, surprised by the ferocity of Hermione’s sneeze.

“Damn right it was,” Hermione muttered in a husky voice. The edges of her lips spiked upwards and her eyes were sparkling in a truly satisfied way.

“Well, get yourself to the Hospital ward straight away,” Pince ordered. Harry could tell that the Librarian was less concerned about Hermione’s health than she was about the younger witch getting germs and boogies all over her precious books.

“Let me catch my breath, then I’ll go see Pomfrey,” Hermione sighed contentedly.

Now that his task was completed Harry magically cleansed his discharge (he had thought about leaving his mess on the floor but that was too unhygienic) and left.

Humming happily to himself, Harry walked toward the Head Boy and Girl’s room unseen and unheard by anyone. He was satisfied, not only for having created such a useful spell like Loninquitas Amorus but also for making Hermione climax like she had never before.

“Potter’s the best teacher, I tell you,” a sixth year Ravenclaw told his friends as Harry passed a small gathering. Curious as to why these kids were talking about him, Harry moved closer so that he could listen in.

“I’ve learned so much from him,” another boy added with a grin.

For a moment, Harry had thought they were talking about Dumbledore’s Army, but it didn’t make sense at all. None of these younger wizards were part of that group so they clearly couldn’t be talking about Harry’s lessons in Defense.

“My bird loves what I’ve learned,” a third boasted. “She was practically gushing.”

“But not as much as Granger gushes, I’d wager,” the second chuckled. “She’s an effing hosepipe… but in a good way.”

Harry’s blood turned to ice in his veins.

“I can’t wait for my turn to watch it,” a fourth said excitedly.

“Why? You don’t even have a girlfriend,” the first ridiculed.

“So? That doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy watching the Pensieves.”

“It was pretty cool to watch,” the second said in a distracted way, like he was reminiscing. “Granger is hot and so damned frisky.”

“And besides, look at Creevey,” the third pointed out. “He didn’t have a girlfriend, and now thanks to those Pensieves, he’s bagged Patil.”

“I really can’t wait until it’s my turn to watch,” the fourth repeated.

In total shock, Harry stumbled away from the group of Ravenclaws. As he blindly made his way back to his chambers, his mind was rocked by what he had just heard. The Pensieve Memory he and Hermione had made for Ron was making the rounds at school. People were watching Harry and Hermione being intimate. That was why everyone was acting strangely; Su Li kissing Hermione, that Ravenclaw giving him the thumbs up a few days before, Seamus with Pavarti and Lavender, and Colin with Padma.

Harry didn’t know how he made it into his chambers or when he had taken off his Invisibility Cloak which was draped over a nearby chair. He was looking around the room in a daze and had not noticed Hermione walk in.

“That was a very, very interesting charm,” she complimented. “Did you make it while under the effects of the Wit Enhancing ritual?”

“Sure,” he uttered, not listening to what she had said.

“It worked wonderfully, but you do have to work on your aim a bit,” the brunette witch added with a smile plastered on her face. “You see, when you entered me, you were just a few inches off course.”

“Okay,” he spoke, skill shocked over the revelation that Ron had passed the Pensieve Memory around and that a good number of his peers had watched him go down on Hermione.

“I’m not angry,” Hermione continued, not noticing Harry’s distracted mindset. “I found that I rather liked it. Actually, that’s an understatement. Well, don’t be cross because I know I said I’d never let you take me that way, but I say lets give it a shot right now. It is possible that it was the effects of your love based magic that gave me such a… positive response and the actual physical act of sodomy may be unbearable, but I’m willing to give it a try,” she finished with a nervous yet eager twinkle in her eyes.”

“Un-huh,” Harry said evenly.

“Harry, what is your problem?” she demanded. “I just asked you to bugger me and you’re acting like I killed Hedwig.”

Slowly, Harry turned and faced his lover. He tried to find a way to sugarcoat the news, but how does one say “Well, we’re accidental porn-stars, dear.” So Harry just blurted it out.

“Remember that Pensieve Memory we made for Ron and Luna?” Harry asked. Hermione nodded, and he continued in a rapid manner, “Well, Ron’s been lending it out.”

“To whom?” she asked with an angry expression on her face.

“Um, everyone,” he answered.

“Everyone?” she nearly screeched. The anger in her eyes grew in intensity.

“Yes, everyone,” he confirmed. “Apparently in turns.”

Anger could no longer describe Hermione’s expression and Harry had a difficult time finding a proper word to describe it. But one thing Harry did do was make a mental note to write a touching eulogy for Ron.

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