Keywords: M/F anal, oral
Author: W R Jenkins
Title: Potter: DA Reunion

  Disclaimer:(standard) Do not screw up. Do not do anything illegal.
 This includes specifically (but not limited to) reading on if you are 
under 18- 21 in some localities  If you are underage you must leave 
now. If you're young and curious, this is not the place to get the 
straight story. You act like this and people will look at you strange 
and give you a wide berth. Also, don't try this at home. Some of this 
stuff is just plain wrong, most of it is unsafe in the present viral 
climate and some of it doesn't work in this universe. They are stories. 
They deal with ideas, fantasies and thoughts that might not even be 
pleasant in real life. Thoughts are like that. Fantasies are there so
we can toy with the sensations without feeling or inflicting the pain, 
despair or humiliation. End Sermon.

Untold Hogwarts: DA Reunion - (HP-DAR.txt)- Fan fiction from another
odd wizard who must be done with the Potions Assignment early. A rare
look at the pre-Ginny love-life of a certain scar-head and what can
be made of it in retrospect. M/F, MM/FFF, M/FF, etc., oral, anal 
P.S. Narrative necessities place the sexual activity at the end. This
is not an excuse. It is an explanation. See if you're still all snarky
when you get to it.
 

Defence Association- Dumbledore's Army- Defence Association-
Dumbledore's Army- settle on the D.A. Only Michael Corner and some
twitchy little wizard called Winterbottom really want to re-write
history to use Cho's name for it anyway. Perhaps they have the
impression the facts are somehow forgot in the five years since the
organization's forming.

Merlin knows, the town of Hogsmeade doesn't care what they call
themselves as long as they schedule a long list of events that might
boost the incomes of shops and pubs in the village. Yes, a reunion
of the D.A., capital idea, are we sure we can convince Potter to come?

Ungoliant MacPherson, a formidable, at least in size, witch is eager
to arrange all for the benefit of the Hogwarts Business Association,
of which she is chairwoman, but is woefully ignorant of the tangled
paths and enmities that have occurred between D.A. members over the
intervening years. Aberforth, a grudging member, seems content, even
amused, to give Ungoliant her rein and wait on the fireworks that
might ensue.

Michael was out of it before Lavender became a problem for Ron and
Hermione and is only antagonistic to Dean- and of course Harry- but
even he can see Harry must be included if there is to be a reunion at
all. Reluctantly, he gives over the parchment they signed. Only
Marietta's name is struck out.

Reunion of Dumbledore's Army (despite settling on the D.A., Ungoliant
has proceeded to use the title on the document) in Hogsmead. To be
held as the seventh month dies! Of course this shakes Harry when he
reads it, but after careful consideration he concludes it is an
accident that those ominous words appear.

He is less enthused about the event than might be, the year of Umbridge
hovering near the bottom of his happy years at Hogwarts, but his
invitation includes a be-ribboned and gratuitously wax-sealed- it can
best be called plea- for him to attend.

The success depends on him. It can hardly be a reunion without the
leader. Hogwarts may wither and die- cease to exist if he refuses. So
many clamour to renew acquaintance- punch and pie. In the end, it is
Ginny urging him that convinces.

Work off that lingering resentment, she says. Show them who has come
away with the prize, she says, meaning herself in the least humble
way she can manage. Show Cho what she lost, she says with less mirth.

Blow it out your barracks bag, Ron suggests under his breath at Ginny's
merry attempts. He is upset that his invitation was addressed to Ron
Weasely, although Ginny's was addressed correctly. Hermione tries to
convince him it is an honest error, pointing out that no one in the
Hogsmeade Business Association has reason to make sport of him, but Ron
clings to the idea it was one of the originators- Corner most probably-
having him on.

"If nothing else, I promise to make your birthday special this year,"
Ginny tempts Harry with a doe-eyed look that makes his heart race.

"Oh Harry, the good will out-weigh the bad, I'm sure," Hermione makes
her own appeal. "Neville says he's coming and Luna as well and there's
your Quidditch team... And I don't think we will be walled up in the
same room if there's someone you'd like to escape."



Two days from 20, and Ginny's promise, Harry warily apparates outside
the Hog's Head. To Harry's dismay, he lands in the midst of a hoopla.
His intention is to slip in and say hello to Aberforth, forgetting 
that the Hog's Head was the origin of the whole mess in the first place.

Good luck to seeing Aberforth, who is nearly as chuffed as Harry about
the location of the celebration. Aberforth is grumpily watching from
behind the counter as three Mermaids- the Muggle imagined ones, not
actual Mer-people, serve the crowded bar. All Harry can manage is to 
wave to Aberforth who only grimaces in Harry's direction in reply.

The expectation is that the income will soothe the grumpy old wizard.
The Mermaids in their skimpy and sometimes revealing costumes were
provided for the overflow. But Aberforth is not soothed and seems to
care little for the income at the expense of his peace and quiet.

Ron finds himself being dragged back to Harry somewhat precipitously
each time he wanders off. Hermione, it seems, is not amused by his 
quest to discover why the Mermaid's scale-like tops seem to drop from
their place at one moment and then pop back to cover their breasts at
another. Perhaps she knows it is connected to tipping and is concerned
that Ron not impoverish himself.

Harry himself is beset by well-wishers and worse- bereft of Ginny. She
has been spirited away and taken her support and much of his reason 
for attending. Angelina, Alicia, Katie, are not so bad. It is good to
see his old Quidditch mates.

Having them pushed off by the likes of Ernie Macmillan and Justin
Finch-Fletchly is less tolerable. While Harry might not strictly have
any grudge, he has as little desire to renew the acquaintance. Now
Hermione is off retrieving Ron and he sees the Ravenclaw contingent
descending on him. Harry has little to say to Corner, though he knows
he is responsible for the gathering. There are still unresolved matters
over his treatment of Ginny and he is sure Corner is as happy how he
discarded Cho.

Too many, too many, and not a bright face in the bunch. At least the
less appreciated give Harry the excuse to force his way through the
press and... well, those are nice tits on that Mermaid- hold on.
He sees Luna at the margins of a different press.

"I thought you'd come to claim her eventually," Luna greets him.

As impenetrable as usual, Harry thinks as he turns to follow Luna's
gaze. Then it is all too clear. This knot of people surrounds Ginny. 
Dean Thomas is there, but Harry has made peace with Dean in their
mutual travels. He turns back to Luna.

"Seen Neville?" he asks.

"I did think I did, but I could be mistaken," Luna says and Harry
notices she is swaying where she stands.

"Are you all right?" he asks.

"Better," Luna says. "Five Firewhiskeys down, seven to go. I'm going
to enjoy this until I pass out."

"Perhaps you should sit?" Harry asks.

"Oh, it's less fun to slide out of a chair and too much danger of 
hitting your head on a table," Luna smiles with the air of one who knows.

Harry is puzzled, but doesn't think it is his place to interfere. His
place is in the middle of the knot beside him and he turns from Luna
to try and see a way inside.

"Dean!" he calls to Dean and Dean turns.

In a lucky sequence of events, Dear lifts his glass toward Harry and
slops it on an unidentified girl who squeals and steps back. She 
jostles someone and in the resulting re-adjustment Harry sees a crack
to move into the circle.

"Ginny," he calls and is ignored.

He comes close enough he can slip his hand past Terry Boot and pinch
Ginny's arse. To his consternation, she doesn't even flinch. Now what's
been going on that she lets that pass? Harry wonders.

He is growing concerned, too many ugly possibilities forming in his
mind when Ginny, still without turning, says clearly, "I know that was
you, Harry. Don't be a prat."

Now he wants to be a prat. He wants to drag Ginny from her admirers
and... give her a good talking to, perhaps. A good talking to before,
or perhaps after, whatever else he might think to do with her if he
can get her in private.

Harry suddenly realizes he has shaken his tail- not a physical one of
course, but the stream of followers. He might be able to search out
the others from the D.A. that he might actually wish to see.

As he looks about, he realizes that Neville is the only name on his
list he has yet to find. Well, George and Lee, but they seem engaged
in causing a malfunction of one of the Mermaid's tops, making it remain
retracted as much as she tries to urge it up to cover her again.

Then he sees he will have as much luck with Neville. He locates him,
nearby actually, but obscured by Hannah Abbot. Harry's disappointment
is tempered by his good wishes for Neville. From the looks of it,
Neville has good prospects for not sleeping alone. Hannah certainly
seems serious about snogging him.

Ginny is still mobbed. Harry turns back to find Luna. She is still on
her feet and, to his surprise, looks steadier than before.

"What are you up to now?" Harry asks.

"Seven," Luna says, giving a rare responsive answer to the question
Harry intended. "And I'm thinking five more may be wishful thinking."

If anyone would recognize wishful thinking, it should be Luna, Harry
thinks. But that is a passing thought outside his real concern. He is
beginning to reckon that Luna is still because she is about to lose
consciousness.

"Care to dance?" Harry invites Luna.

Her smile is so radiant that Harry is sad to think she is not likely
to remember his invitation. As he suspects, the lack of audible music 
is no impediment to Luna. His other suspicion is confirmed as he takes
Luna in his arms and she goes limp.

Luna is more substantial than her ethereal appearance, but Harry
manages to half drag, half wrestle her towards the bar. He leans her
against it, still holding her and calls to Aberforth.

"You know where she's staying?" he asks, "or if there's some place to
put her?"

"I thought you were with the red-head," Aberforth says unresponsively.

"I'm just putting her to bed... - I need some place to lay her," Harry
stumbles as Aberforth regards him suspiciously. "She's drunk. I need
some place to put her down," he says in frustration. 

Aberforth raises his eyebrows but goes to the side of the bar to lead
Harry up the stairs.

"Xeno Lovegood's girl?" he asks, and when Harry nods, says, "I think
she did take a room. Knows herself, that one."

Harry doesn't bother to inquire what Aberforth means. Luna is getting
heavy and pulling her up the stairs is hard enough.

"I guess you can dump her in there," Aberforth says at the second door
atop the stairs, "I'll be going back now, so I won't be accountable
for what goes on."

Harry gives him a dirty look. He can't read Aberforth's expression any
more than he ever could his brother's. He might be having Harry on.
Knowing Aberforth, he might not care.

"You're a nice boy, Harry," Luna says as he puts her on the bed. She 
sounds dreamy, so Harry can't determine if she knows he is there or is
really dreaming.

Well, I've bedded one so far, he says to himself. Now to see to the 
rest. As he goes down the stairs, Aberforth's words echo. Luna took a
room. Where is he to stay, he asks himself. Was it planned or am I to
look for a room in a town booked solid?

He determines to force his way to Ginny to ask. Instead, he sees Ginny
has detached herself and is with George and Lee and Hermione and Ron.
Finally, he is pleased. He is on his way to them when intercepted.

"Harry! It's been a long time," Cho Chang seems to have forgotten all
the past.

"It's been a while, yeah," Harry answers as neutrally as he can manage,
suspicious of her approach.

"Oh, don't be that way, you can't still carry a grudge," Cho says 
merrily.

"No," Harry says unconvincingly.

"We were in the D.A. and this is the reunion," she goes on with forced
jollity, "we're supposed to remember those good times."

Harry is thinking of the scar on his hand from those 'good' times. He
is impatient with Cho for her timing. He has little enough to say to
her anyway.

"Yeah, good times," Harry says weakly.

"I though you'd be happy to see me," Cho pouts. "I was going to remind
you of the mistletoe on Christmas."

Harry refrains from reminding her Marietta nearly got them expelled
soon after.

"Yeah, I remember," Harry says, clearly remembering Marietta more, but 
then he has a stroke of gallantry, or perhaps sees it as the only way
to escape and says, "It was my first kiss, you know. How could I ever
forget?"

He leaves Cho smiling and is past her before that breaks into a look of
dismay. He makes a straight line to the Weasleys and Hermione.

"Ginny, do we have lodgings or will we have to find some?" he asks.

Ginny furrows her brow. Harry has interrupted a story. It seems an odd
question at this point as well. She examines him, wondering what has
him wondering that and why now.

"You're the guest of honour, of course you have a room," Hermione 
answers for Ginny.

Both Ginny and Harry turn to Hermione. Their faces mirror questioning
looks.

"I imagine," Hermione says with uncertainty, "Wasn't there anything in
the letter you received?"


Harry doesn't seriously consider returning to the Hog's Head and
crawling into bed beside Luna. It crosses his mind, but he isn't
serious. He doesn't give seeking out Cho even one thought.

It is crowded, but Hermione is positively spare about mending the
mistake. She will hear no argument and is already so upset that Harry
declines to upset her more. Harry finds himself balanced on the edge
of a bed with the other three, sure that the floor would be more
comfortable than his precarious perch.

He is nearly paid back for the uncomfortable beginning when they awake
in an embarrassing tangle in the morning.

Ron, evidently, tried to cross the Matterhorns of Hermione in his sleep
and drove her into Ginny's arms. Ginny seemed to mistake her for Harry
and slid atop her. Finally given some space, Harry happily filled it
and moved to Ginny.

All very innocent and clear to this point, some guesswork is needed to
determine how Harry came to be in the middle of Ginny and Hermione. 
And how they woke in the morning with Hermione's thigh rubbing
dangerously on Harry's erection.

Ron has clear ideas, but little reason for them. Much of his
credibility is lost in the fact that he was in possession of nearly
half the bed and had seemingly forced the other three into their
tangled positions.

Madame Rosmerta comes to their aid as they come down the stair. Even
her presence and attention does little to lift Ron's spirits as she
tells them there might be a room available.

"It's for the Abbot girl, but she said she doesn't need it any longer,"
Rosmerta says with a twinkle in her eye.

Harry returns her smile. He knows as well where Hannah plans to sleep
during the rest of her stay. Well done, Neville, he thinks to himself.

As the first evening was so merry, Harry looks forward to the day with
dread. The good news is they are among the few that did not over-
indulge and the other reunioneers are still groggily trying to find
their ways out of bed.

Harry takes the opportunity to visit Aberforth without the din
interfering. It seems the Hog's Head is the place for early risers.
It is also, happily, the abode of welcome company.

Luna is up early despite her bender, and so is Neville. Hannah squeaks
and runs back into the first room atop the stair, but then, timidly,
creeps down to join Neville.

"Don't mind us," Harry tells Hannah, "In any case, we're grateful.
Ginny and I would have no place to stay if you hadn't given up your
room."

"Not that you have room to talk," Neville says, "Luna has been telling
us how you laid her gently down and made sweet love to her."

"That was a dream," Luna protests, looking at Ginny, "Didn't I say it
was a dream?"

Neville only grins at Harry. Whether it is being smug over his jest or
pure content over finding Hannah, Harry is not sure. Harry accepts the
one and is glad of the other. Neville is owed some happiness, Harry
thinks.

He was owed some and found it in Ginny, Harry considers. It is
Neville's turn.

As for Luna... Harry thinks it just as well he didn't come to sleep
beside her. Her dream might prompt other suspicions if he had. Not
that it isn't a pleasant thought, just not enough to risk a happy life
with Ginny.

"You're up early," Harry turns to Luna, "I trust I was good to you last
night- in your dream."

"I can hold my liquor," Luna says, "I just over-estimate how much I
hold upon occasion. And yes, Harry, you were very good. As you always
are."

Harry finds that a little disturbing. He shares a connection with Luna
but it stops short of her dreaming about him, at least for his part. He
looks at Ginny who smiles slyly at him.

"So, Ab, banner night last night?" Neville turns to Aberforth to ask.

"Haven't had such a commotion since you were all traipsing through here
looking to fight Voldemort," Aberforth says dryly. "That might have
been quieter, though."

Neville just smirks at him. Harry is jealous of the bond they seemed
to have formed.

"But you didn't mind the Mermaids, did you?" Neville asks.

"Scaly little tarts," Aberforth snorts, "No, didn't mind them much."

"Thought I saw a fish tail in your rooms," Neville says and for a
moment Harry sees an emotion threatening to break through the gruff
exterior.

Aberforth pulls it back quickly, however, and then snorts again at
Neville's suggestion.

"You're the cause," Aberforth accuses Harry, "but you've been the
cause of a lot of it. Poor boy."

"I paid for some of it last night," Harry says wryly. "I think I 
enjoyed it nearly as much as you did."

"Nine-o-clock!" Hermione says, looking at her watch. "Isn't there some
demonstration supposed to be held at nine?"

"Can't they demonstrate without us?" Ron asks.

"Without you, dear, but I think they expect Harry," Hermione answers.

Harry walks toward the square with as much enthusiasm as walking to
the forest to die. He is being reminded too often of horrible events.
He wonders why anyone would want to gather to recall such things.

"You'll like this," Lee Jordan assures Harry when he meets Lee and
George at the square.

"Definitely not Ministry approved," George adds.

It is mildly amusing, Harry must admit. It is just the kind of showy
magic that makes him suspect George and Lee are behind it. His alter
ego, 20 feet high, confronts and then chases a 10-foot Umbridge around
the square. The Umbridge squeals choice phrases as she is subjected to
a variety of curses by Harry.

"We hoped Umbridge might attend, but alas," George says.

"You invited her?" Harry is scandalized.

"He did," George and Lee say together, pointing at each other.

Harry can only hope the other activities are as interesting and involve
him, at least in person, as little. It was rather diverting, if not
well attended. Harry thinks perhaps it irritated more than saw it, 
however. Perhaps nine is too early after a night of drinking, he
concludes.


By noon, however, the crush has returned. It is somewhat less tedious
dealing with them when they are sober. And there are entertainments
planned. The most popular is the duelling demonstration where D.A.
members, or their guests, are encouraged to show how much they've 
retained of their training.

Interesting enough, Zacharias Smith stands in for Harry as the test
of skill. He is surprisingly accomplished, bested seldom and takes
Harry to three tries before Harry is slightly quicker and avoids
the boom of spells colliding of the first two tries.

There is a carnival atmosphere, including booths of sweets from
Honeydukes and jokes from Weasley Wizarding Wheezes (now with branches
in Hogsmead and London). Harry finds it easier to avoid those he does
not wish to meet and find those he does.

Except Cho, who seems to stalk him, ever alert for an opportunity when
Ginny is away from him for a moment. Ginny is not unaware of this. She
contrives to station Hermione or Luna as guards when she turns away
even for an instant.

Lavender Brown has more success since her approach to Ron is less
clever and more sheer cheek. She is staring down Hermione on every step
as she stalks up to Ron.

"I bet you forgot I was in the D.A.," Lavender says to Hermione. 
"Parvati and I were star pupils."

"Oh no, I remember," Hermione says with mock sweetness, "Back then you
could be clever if you kept your mind on your studies."

Lavender gives her the appearance of a smile and turns to Ron. "You're
looking good, despite... despite all you've gone through," she says
with a smile that reads as genuine- and a meaningful glance at
Hermione.

"You haven't gotten any uglier yourself," Ron says in typical Ron
fashion.

Her mission, it seems, is complete. Lavender had bearded the lion in
her den and shown her own mettle. She's offered Ron a, she hopes
painful, reminder of what he gave up. After all, it's proof of what she
thought- them being together. She always said Hermione only poached Ron
from her after she'd proved he was interesting.

There is plenty of time for meetings, both the happy and the grudging
as the day wears on. Unfortunately, Harry has few encounters he wishes
for and Ginny knows simply everyone who was in the D.A.

It makes sense, Harry recalls, since many of them, Boot and Goldstein
for instance, would never have been invited except for Ginny's friendly
ways. In addition, Ginny has always been more social.

He had pressing matters, Harry excuses himself, and was thought
dangerous or mental for most of his time at Hogwarts. He is glad of
Ginny's popularity and doesn't begrudge her friends, but he does wish
she would stay more closely by his side.

He doesn't mind Luna, but there is so little to say in the long
stretches that find them together. Hermione too, it seems, had time to
make more friends than Harry and flits from her guard post often,
leaving him with Luna as sole guardian.



Every feast is a leaving feast, it seems, although the crowd rather
swelled than diminished after the first night. There might be some that
have to hurry off, Michael Corner contends in his opening speech at
the affair.

That is why they mean to make some gesture that all can see and
appreciate before the true leaving feast on the 31st. Corner calls
Harry to the dais and presents a gilded whistle- a reminder of the one
that appeared in the Room of Requirement.

Harry accepts it with grace and a bit of real gratitude. As he
remembers, he felt the whistle a sign that he was meant to be in charge
and in charge of a classroom of peers. That, at least, is a happy
memory.

Calls of: Speech, Speech, are definitely less appealing.

"Well, I suppose I should blow my whistle to quiet you," Harry says.
"It does remind me of 28 of us daring to be educated when those who 
had our care failed. And though you honour me, I say it was all you.
I may have demonstrated, passed on what I'd discovered in fear and
panic, but it was you that worked so hard to master it."

Harry feels his thoughts run dry, but then hits on something more
recent. "I offer you an example: Zacharias Smith," Harry sweeps his
hand over the audience hoping to locate Smith in the crowd. "Didn't
he prove how far you can come with hard work and perseverance?"

A smattering and then general applause erupts as Smith is located and
pointed out. Harry is relieved to feel the attention turn from him.
It gives him a sadder memory and better way to put emphasis where it
belongs.

"And we have been fortunate, though I'm sure few of you will claim it
was more skill than luck, that so many of us have come through the
dark days behind us," Harry says and the audience seems to draw its
collective breath. "But we are soldiers all, Dumbledore's Army, and
were prepared for the sacrifice. Twenty-eight we were, but only 26
remain. I ask you to raise a glass to those who made the sacrifice,
following our leader, Dumbledore. Here's to Fred Weasley and Colin
Creevy, may they live forever in our hearts!"

"That was a very good speech, Harry, I didn't know you had one
prepared," Luna compliments Harry as he escapes the dais with the roar
following his toast. Hermione nods demonstratively but is too overcome
with tears to speak. Even Ron looks a bit misty and has a lump in his
throat that prevents him speaking.

"Well done, Harry, well done. That's why we chose you leader in the
first place," Corner is trying to restore order to go on. "And now,
in the spirit of comradeship and purpose that Professor Potter invoked, 
let us make merry- and honour the fallen- with a gala!"

Corner points his wand at the ceiling where hangings are rolled in
preparation to drop down as decorations and exclaims: "Champelant!"
"Oh dear," Hermione has time to gasp as the decorations descend en
masse and thump on the revellers, exploding great poofs of sparkling
detritus from their interior.

The crowd slowly, with more or less difficulty, emerges from the mass.
No one is seriously injured- a bruise here a scrape there- and they set
to push the uncooperative hazard to the side of the hall.

Harry vaguely recalls having a question for Hermione, but he doesn't
remember what it was. He does know there is something for him to do.
Poor Luna, stuck with him all day, guarding him, as if he needed a
guard. He should show his appreciation.

"Luna should be rewarded for guarding me," he explains to Ginny and
then turns to Luna, "May I have this dance?"

Luna giggles. He doesn't recall her being so giddy before. He takes it
that she is very pleased by his offer.

"You are quite the prize, you know," Harry finds himself telling Luna
as they more bounce than glide across the floor. "I don't see how the
rest miss it, but I'm glad they do. It means you're mine to discover."

He is leaning in, all but breathing into Luna's mouth as he speaks the
last. It seems very normal to do this. He is sincere. He wants to
discover Luna. She is as exciting a woman as he's ever beheld.

"Oh Harry, you're drunk," Luna rebuffs him gently. "You'll think better
of it in the morning."

He had a sip of champagne in toasting. That's not enough to make him
drunk. Luna is being coy. Harry resolves to win her however she wishes
him to pursue her.

"But I think better of you now. I swear I'll prove it to you," Harry
says. "Just let me try and I assure you I shall."

Luna smiles and does not reply. They are making a circuit of the floor.
Without Harry noticing, Luna is guiding him back to where they began.
Beyond Harry's comprehension, she intends to deliver him to Ginny
before he gets out of hand.

They are still half the floor away. Luna finds herself letting Harry
kiss her. Harry soars as she allows him to explore her mouth with his
tongue. They are started and he can think of nothing but that she will
in time yield. He is giddy in anticipation.

Luna shakes her head to clear it, but finds it still fuzzy with the
kiss. It was quite nice really... She is able to ignore that pleasant
thought for the nagging reminder of her intent. It was nice, but she
is to deliver Harry to Ginny.

Luna has learned to do what she ought, or feels she ought, in
preference to stray impulse. She lets Harry twirl her back to the spot
he collected her, but Ginny isn't there. Ron and Hermione are, a bit
off to the side, and having a heated snog.

Harry sees and snickers. Good old Hermione will have a start when she
realizes Ron has dragged her gown down and quite a bit of left tit is
being exposed, he thinks. But Hermione is uncharacteristically unaware.
As he watches, she urges Ron to cover her, with his hand. Well, that's
not normal.

Luna has taken the opportunity to slip away. She has been warned off by
some innate sense what Harry intends and thinks it is best if he is
frustrated in that intent. Cho has no such compunction.

"Oh Harry! Where is the mistletoe when you really need it?" Cho 
inquires breathily.

Harry doesn't need it. He takes Cho by the shoulders and pulls her face
to his. It's not much like a kiss, though kiss it is. Cho is stiff with
the suddenness and Harry almost military in bearing. The only part that
is kiss is Harry's tongue bullying its way into Cho's mouth and lashing
her tongue.

Cho softens, but Harry only becomes more aggressive in mastering Cho's
tongue. He feels her naked skin in his hands as if at a distance and
an urge to avenge some wrong more vaguely still. He is only certain
that she is his to treat as he will.

"Harry! Have you reconsidered?" Cho says happily when she can break
away from his invading tongue.

He doesn't answer. He looks down to see how much of Cho there is
protruding above her strapless gown. Not only shoulders but a fair
expanse of naked chest is exposed. He looks back into her eyes and
sees longing.

Perhaps it is the thought of exposed, perhaps a thought of Hermione
with her tit out, Harry pushes Cho backwards toward the dais. She goes
easily, looking up with crinkles forming at the edges of her eyes. 

With some hope of meagre concealment, Harry inserts his fingers into
the sides of Cho's gown and pulls it down. Her cry of protest is
instead a gasp of surprise and a purr of enthusiasm as her breasts bob
into the open and into Harry's sight.

He feels little emotion about her breasts. They are breasts. It is more
that she is stripped to the waist for him. Harry kisses her again,
handling her breasts more to claim them than to arouse her. Cho seems
not to notice his intent. She is aroused by his touch.

"All right, Harry, we are grown up, after all," Cho indicates her 
interest.

It is quieter this way, Harry thinks as he lowers Cho to the floor. He
does not pursue the meaning, nor extend it to what he might do if she
resisted. She is going willingly and that's as well.

"Oh goodness! Harry! You must want me terribly!" Cho tries to giggle,
but it comes out more a whimper as Harry throws up the bell of her
gown and pulls at her knickers.

He is as hurried and economical opening his trousers and producing his
penis. The goal is to penetrate and he pursues it with efficiency.
He pauses after he enters her, having accomplished his goal and still
awaiting the need to proceed. In that instant, Cho's eyes reflect a
concern for the way he has thrust aside her knickers and taken her
while they are both mostly dressed.

Harry thrusts. He has taken her but not finished the job. The waver in
her eye perhaps prompted him. He is not aware of the impulse but his
actions argue he is on the attack and, like a predator, responds to
the recoil of his victim.

"Oh my, Harry, imagine how it could have been," Cho says when he is
finished.

Harry does not notice the fading of enthusiasm in her words. He feels
he has done for her. He feels that was his purpose. He is now impatient
to be gone.

"Yeah," Harry says carelessly, "Imagine if your knickers weren't so
tight."

He is somehow less than shocked when he walks away and discovers that
Ron and Hermione have fallen from their chairs and are shagging on
the floor in full view. Quite nice legs, he thinks as he sees
Hermione's wrapped about Ron in her passion.

He is not shocked, but coldly murderous when he encounters Ginny laying
under Michael Corner. So I've had yours, Harry broods. It gives you no
leave to have mine.

Whatever bloody confrontation might have ensued is interrupted as
Parvati Patil leaps upon Harry's back. He looks around only to be
caught by the hand and led off by Parvati's twin, Padma, still bearing
Parvati on his shoulders.

"I told you I know the whole Kama Sutra, but perhaps you didn't hear,"
Parvati is giggling.

"At the Yule Ball," she says, giddily leaning back with her hands on
his shoulders for support and bringing up brown, ring-wearing toes to
play about his face.

"We both know it by heart," Padma says, not to be ignored.

The sparkly little toes are intriguing. Harry is distracted from his
wrath and being given no opportunity for escape in any case. Perhaps
with some pique or just uncaring, Padma trips Harry so he falls to
his back.

In practice, it is Parvati's back that bears the brunt. She lands with
an: "OOOF!", but her entwining around Harry is so secure that he lands
with his head on her belly and his neck in the arch of her thighs. 

Parvati is seized with the intention of turning Harry about so he will
face the fount of her sex, but Padma is working against her. She has
leapt to her chance at Harry's trousers and is undoing them as her
sister tries to make Harry turn.

"Oh, we know the position for this as well," Parvati assures Harry,
abandoning her attempt to twist him in the middle and untwisting her
legs to slip out from under him.

My, that is convenient, is the only thought that crosses Harry's mind
as he discovers how interestingly a sari can be twirled off by a
woman driven by desire. Perhaps he has a flash of, how nicely brown
she is all over, as Parvati steps over his head to squat down and
press her vulva to his mouth.

Parvati shows no need of his help. She rubs happily over lips and nose
as Padma finally conquers Harry's underpants. Of course it is
impossible, having just shagged Cho, that his penis is erect, but Padma
pays no mind to the impossibility and settles over his erection as
Parvati has taken possession of his mouth.

Whether she needs the help of not, Parvati gladly accepts the addition
of Harry's tongue as Padma's pre-emptive bouncing on his penis makes
him feel the need to do something. Harry's mind is quite clear of
intent, quite content to furnish whatever organs of arousal he may to
let the Patil sisters achieve their goals.

"I'm milking the cow, whatever the Sutra calls it," Padma announces
happily as Harry groans with the stimulation.

It seems there are more things than are dreamt of in Harry's philosophy
as well as Horatio's. Harry can't imagine how it's done, but Padma's
vagina is contracting in waves that stroke his penis from bottom to
top. She isn't even moving at it's many times more stimulating than
the most furious bouncing Harry has ever felt.

"I taught her," Parvati says argumentatively and waits for Harry's tongue
to intrude into her own vagina to give him a sample.

Well, it's on them, Harry thinks. He is only there for their pleasure.
If he can be erect so soon after ejaculating, perhaps he can survive
their attention. It feels too good for him to care much. The present 
is too pleasant to worry about the future.

Not less pleasant, but dangerously arousing, Harry stirs as Padma shows
him another trick. She is turning on his penis. She turns quite about
and then comes half back so she faces sideways and then bends to the
floor between his feet.

He feels the pressure of his erection being bent and is repaid by the
pressure of it pressing against Padma's vaginal vault as she squirms
up and back. It is only cover, he discovers, for another innovation.

Padma insinuates her foot under his knee and then slides is back to
bring her leg under his and her buttock into the joint of his thigh.
She twists and Harry feels himself lifted onto his side. Parvati seems
dislodged, but as he turns, Harry finds she has only moved to be where
his face goes in his new position.

Padma is still pointed the opposite direction, providing the increased
friction of bending his penis out of place and his face is in Parvati's
groin as he lays on his side. Padma's agile leg makes the transition 
under his leg as the other had before and Harry feels Padma press at
him reversed, nearly bring their arses together in her odd position.

"I say you cow her," Parvati proposes and Harry feels her draw away.

He needs Parvati's help and would if he knew his destination. He cannot
quite conquer the bit about going from sitting up with his legs out
to drawing his legs back to kneel without some lifting from Parvati.
As he is mostly ignorant of their intent, he simply goes along.

As Parvati puts him in position, Harry is happily encouraged to see 
this is something with which he is somewhat familiar. Padma bends down
a bit more, forming a smooth curve of back from lowered head to lowered
bum, but it is generally the same as coming in from the rear. He
thrusts more upward than he is used to, but it is otherwise much the
same.

That is, until his ardour and Padma's urgings reach a fury and he finds
himself prompted to greater effort as Parvati pokes a finger into his
arsehole without any warning. Well, that shocks him into a thrusting
that seems beyond a mortal. 

As the explosion of his ejaculation is likewise enhanced, Harry feels
inclined to forgive Parvati. He even owes some of the gratitude he
gets from Padma to her, but Parvati isn't about to let him linger in
his debt. She pulls him away from Padma before Padma is properly done
thanking him and turns him to herself.

"Now you can have the real treat," Parvati says to a dissatisfied noise
from her twin.

"It would be done standing if you weren't so cursed tall," Parvati
hisses at him as she again takes him to his knees and kneels with him.

Now there's something! Harry thinks as Parvati kisses him. He's
scarcely missed it, but he realizes what he missed as Parvati's tongue
is a deadly as a cobra, as darting as the mongoose and as slippery as
an eel in his mouth. He can't nearly keep up and is helpless with the
sensation her tongue strikes from everywhere at once, but is gone as
his own slow tongue gropes to find it.

It is, he senses without realizing, a fair description of the whole
attack by the Patil twins. But Parvati only kissed him to daze him.
She is soon back to her original intent with the purpose derived from
her own passion for Harry.

Somehow, because it is clearly impossible, Harry finds Parvati's left
leg pressing against his chest. Her right thigh presses his left 
thigh. She is split in half along his body, but Harry has no time to
wonder at this as Parvati wriggles forward, trapping his penis and
sliding tight against him.

"Imagine if we were standing and I could move properly," Parvati teases
him.

Harry can't imagine she can do what she's doing. It's pointless to give
him greater wonders to ponder. Her arms surround Harry's neck and she
does have to hold herself away so their chests cannot touch, but she
isn't made of rubber and the impossible position of her legs is already
beyond Harry's reckoning.

So too is the sensation as she sways, testing the unnatural openness
of her legs, and moves on his hard penis. Her thigh presses
rhythmically against his and he can feel her calf slide on his
collarbone as she moves. There is not much motion, but it doesn't leave
Harry wanting. The inch, perhaps, is enough to make the heat surge
through his body and cause his heart to race.

With an evil smile, Parvati stares into his eyes as she begins the
milking Padma demonstrated. She must be appeased by Harry's wide-eyed,
gasping response. In defence, he clutches at her, hand on the thigh
against his chest, the other reaching for her side.

"You may move as well- if you can," Parvati taunts him gently.

Harry's hand instinctively? passes Parvati's side and gathers in her
breast. He see the first flicker that he is responsible for her
pleasure. He does as she bids and moves into her. Her eyelids slide
halfway and her smile widens.

"Yes, Harry," she sighs, "but not too fast. Pleasure is meant to be
enjoyed for as long as it can."

The contractions come and go. Parviati's fingers tighten about his
neck. Harry pauses to let her move and then takes up his own swaying
into her again. It seems they are lost to time. Harry has no concept
of its passing.

Parvati has perhaps climaxed many times, perhaps none at all. Harry is
not aware. He only becomes aware when she begins to work harder and
cry out.

"Harry! Yes, Harry! All for it!" she says with heavy breaths.

Her contractions are no longer so much waves as grabs. She pulls at his
penis when it is deep within her. She bumps harder on him and pulls
to make him respond in kind. He feels foreign hands, surely Padma's,
caress his buttocks.

Parvati has determined this is how long pleasure can be enjoyed, he
thinks distractedly. Padma's fingers do no breach him. Instead he
feels her fingers tease his tight-drawn scrotum. They stroke and gently
squeeze as he is in the last moments with Parvati.

After he ejaculates into Parvati- with more energy than even Padma and
far more than into Cho- he finds there is still one treat. Parvati-
somewhat jerkily- slides her leg off his shoulder. Her knee comes down
to rest inside his own. His penis is trapped inside her. Parvati
presses against him, her breasts no longer prevented from digging sharp
tips into his chest- and kisses him.

It is again a wonder. No tongue. Yet the way her lips move over his is
as arousing as most kisses Harry has known. He experiences this with
her pressed against him and his penis trapped in her warmth. She gives
his penis a final squeeze with her marvellous muscles before she pulls
away.

"As you might have had some years ago," she says softly as she rises
and leaves him on his knees.

"Tell Ron," Padma says. "He might have had the same."

It is too blatant a reference for Harry to miss, but he is still
puzzled. He can understand the twin's motive, but why now and why did
he allow it?

Harry is far from forming even an opinion when he is distracted again. 
What is Luna doing and why with Neville? He recalls wanting Luna and
somehow being unsuccessful. But Neville? He has the Abbot girl. Harry
was glad of that, but not so chuffed about Neville poaching Luna.

Then he notices that Hannah is very busy with Ernie MacMillan. He
notices that Hannah is exceedingly intent on having Ernie shag her.
He wonders if Neville couldn't keep up. Hannah is certainly very eager
for all Ernie's effort.

But if Neville couldn't keep up, what is Luna finding to suck on as
she bends over the prone boy and bobs her head in his crotch? Harry's
momentary heat at Neville stealing Luna is lost in his questions 
about the arrangement in front of him.

"Come on, Harry, friends together!" he hears Angelina call out to him
from the left.

"Once for the team!" Katie Bell encourages him from the pile of herself
and Angelina, Alicia and George, the remnants of his first Quidditch
team, and every member of every team, excepting Ron- who Harry thinks
is probably still engaged with Hermione.

He wonders for a moment if Ravenclaw is having a similar reunion with 
Cho at its middle, but doesn't care enough to wonder longer. He goes 
over, mostly out of curiosity for what George can be doing surrounded
by three women.

He's being three-holed, near as can be with three women on one guy.
Angelina on the bottom, or in front comes nearer, with George invading
a yet unspecified orifice while Alicia rams three fingers in his arse
and Katie rocks on his face. Harry can't see George's expression past
Katie's pubis, but he suspects it is a happy one.

"Give George some air," Angelina directs Katie, "You're distracting him
anyway."

Katie is nothing loathe. She hops off George and hops over Angelina to
lead Harry to the pile.

"Yeah- more like it," Angelina sighs in content. "Now can you get his
head in there to give George an assist?"

As Angelina lifts her knee to put her foot on the floor, Harry sees
George is deep in her rectum. He gets a closer view as Katie all but
throws him face first between Angelina's legs.

"Oooo- nice one," he hears Katie purr as he feels fingers wrap around
his penis and, shortly after, a mouth cover its tip.

He finds himself at an angle to Angelina, George's penis thrusting
uncomfortably close to his eyes as Alicia threatens to pound him on the
head in her enthusiasm to cram her fingers in George's rectum. He is
far enough from laying next to Angelina that Katie has room to mouth
his penis, but doesn't see how they will have room enough for any more.

He isn't meant to see that or anything else. Angelina makes that clear
as she forces his mouth to her vulva. He's there to stimulate her while
she's buggered. Good choice to replace Wood, Harry thinks abstractly,
as he experiences Angelina's leadership first hand.

"Ohhhh! That's the stuff!" Angelina moans as Harry applies his mouth
and her hips begin to bang back at George harder.

"Now don't sit on me!" Harry hears Angelina complain just as his penis
is deserted.

The absence is quickly repaired as Harry feels his penis slide into a
warm vagina. He is side-saddle to- it must be Katie- as the bottom
bumps back at him hitting with one lone buttock. He chances to look
up before Angelina pushes him back into place and sees Katie is
stretched over Angelina, her breasts being fondled, while she is
kissing George.

Poor Alicia, Harry thinks. He gropes furtively for her and makes his
way up her thigh to rub her crotch.

"Good one, Harry," Alicia rewards him with the contact.
 
"Oh! You bastard!" Angelina cries out after an age.

Harry's neck is cramped and hopes it signals a change in position.

"The little monkey shot off in my arse!" Angelina says with some heat
when Alicia inquires.

"About time someone else got a turn then," Alicia retorts.

Harry is disconnected totally in the relocation. When he looks up, he
sees Katie and Alicia eye him hungrily and Angelina scowling.

"Not your fault, Potter," Angelina says grudgingly and in much the tone
as if he had missed the Snitch, "Mine really. If I hadn't been so keen
to be first I might have had a go with you."

Harry still isn't seeing. He sees that Katie and Alicia are now staring
at each other, but he doesn't, honestly, he doesn't have a clue what
is intended.

"You've had him," Alicia says fiercely.

"Hardly," Katie replies. "You can't count that."

"I can against nothing at all," Alicia argues.

"Hey, hey, there's still a pony to ride here!" George puts in.

"Then you have that!" Alicia tells Katie.

There's still a pecking order and Katie isn't going to win. She knew
from the first she was doomed, but it isn't in her to not try. It's why
she is a good chaser. But Alicia is a good chaser as well and older.

Harry is still mystified as he is woman-handled between Angelina and
Alicia with Katie scrabbling to loom over him. Alicia turns her rump to
him as George gets behind Katie and, evidently, enters her from behind.

"Now not like Angelina- until you work up to it," Alicia cautions
Harry to his confusion.

It becomes clear to him as Alicia snuggles back to him. He isn't dense,
just unfamiliar with such things. When he feels Alicia is pressing her
arsehole back on him, he gets it at once. He's George to Alicia's
Angelina. She means him to bugger her.

Not unaware how improbable the night has been so far, Harry wonders
how it will differ from real buggering. As Alicia forces herself down
his penis, he is careful to note how it is, in case he gets the chance
to bugger someone when he isn't insane- as he must be now.

He finds it is quite daunting, a rather accurate word, he thinks. It is
difficult to thrust into Alicia's arse, but rewardingly warm for the
effort. The difficulty is not worse for the stimulation it provides
either.

He is interrupted in his inventory of buggery when Angelina speaks.

"You fancy your prostate massaged?" Angelina asks, slipping a finger
deep into his arse without waiting for a reply.

It would be manly to say Harry gulped, but it is more a squeak at the
unexpected intrusion. Parvati had outraged him before, to his less
than distressed surprise, but Angelina seems to have a different 
purpose. For sure it is much deeper in his rectum than Parvati invaded.

When Angelina finds it, Alicia is the one who squeaks. The jolt of
Angelina prodding his prostate sends Harry hard into Alicia's arse
with a lunge. While the progress was rude, Harry has less argument
with the destination of Angelina's search.

It is quite the motivator for him to bugger Alicia smartly. He is taken
by the finger and the resulting ravage of Alicia's bum for some time
before his attention widens to notice Katie looming over him as George
takes her from the rear.

It shows how narrow his attention was before because Katie is also
digging between Alicia's legs, although on the other side from where
Harry is invading her. He sees Katie's breasts swinging over him and
feels he's now ready to reach up and play with them.

Harry knows he is still caught in insanity or a dream because he's 
already had the joy to have come off twice in Alicia's arse. That he
can still go and Alicia can still urge is not a sign of real.

"What about some of that for me?" Katie asks after an age.

For some reason mysterious to Harry, but in actuality because Katie
as just made Alicia climax again, Alicia doesn't dismiss Katie out of
hand.

"What'll you give me?" Alicia teases.

"What more do you want?" Katie inquires.

"Lend me George," Alicia says.

Harry only finds it strange George has no comment on the matter. He
thinks he understands when George is climbing over them and settles
in front of Alicia. He would have to be a troll not to understand
when he feels George's penis thrusting into Alicia on the other side
of a thin wall between orifices.

Alicia gets quite giggly. She also squirms. As it doesn't seem she is
going to be vocal, Harry decides it is up to him to chart his own
course. Alicia mentioned the way George was buggering Angelina. He
thinks now is the time she would call for it if she could.

He takes up the job as vigorously as he can and hears no protest.
No protest from Alicia, that is.

"No need to break it off. I have need of it," Katie cautions from
near his ear.

And you'll get it, Harry vows to himself. There was a moment- just a
short space- when he felt it was up to him. Katie reminding him is not
making him jolly. His pique seems welcome, however, as it takes it
out on Alicia.

He has a moment of regret for his temper as he feels himself o'ertaken.
He's not able to delay. Angelina's insistent finger is doing nothing to
help. Harry grunts as he tries to thrust harder and faster into
Alicia's bum to make up for his sudden ejaculation.

"Merlin's clappy dick!" Alicia swears, "I feel I've been given an enema
by this one!"

Harry is no judge. He only dimly senses that his ejaculation has been
gathering force from first to last. In this case his sense is even
less reliable, since he has been subjected to a whirl of excess that
he can hardly remember, much less account.

"Well then, Harry, hope you like my face," Katie says as she rolls 
Harry on his back and straddles him.

She seems apologetic or perhaps placating. Harry shrugs. He doesn't
know what's going on. He's just there to be used, it seems.

For what sense it makes, it seems Katie regrets he won't bugger her.
Harry only works that out as she mounts his erection and he feels
George coming in on the other side. It is the reverse as with Alicia,
although easier for Harry. His part seems to lay back and let Katie
do the work.

Except when Angelina mounts his face. Harry is forming the impression
that no opportunity is to go to waste. Certainly nothing he and George
can do for Angelina, Alicia and Katie.

Not that he doesn't feel well served as well, he amends.

Harry doesn't so much recall being abandoned as finding himself across
the hall from where he began. He doesn't feel the pressure that seemed
trapped in his chest before, but neither does he feel that fatigue he
thinks he should.

He isn't sure what he is seeking, only that the other option is sleep
and he isn't sleepy. He isn't even interested, except as he might
perhaps view a sculpture, when he discovers Lavender on her shoulders
with her legs thrown over her face and Ron pounding down on her
unlikely configuration.

He doesn't think to protest or to laugh. He doesn't think of what Hermione might say. He wanders about with only a transient thought of
Luna which seems to cross his mind like it's being blown back and forth 
on a wind.

"Fancy a go?"

All Hermione needs is a cigarette drooping from the corner of her
mouth and her skirts, if she was wearing skirts, pulled up to expose
her privates to complete the look of a harlot. The bleary eyes, messed
mascara and uncaring droop of her mouth are otherwise just the picture.

"Tickle your bum?" Harry offers as he drops into a chair beside her.

Hermione seems dejected, leaning forward, elbows on her thighs and
head hanging down. She lifts her head to turn it and look at Harry
sprawled against the back of the chair, his erection an incongruous
indication of vigour that the rest of his body belies.

"Cute little bugger," Hermione rouses to put out her hand and run a
finger along Harry's erect penis.

"Shag you till you bleed," Harry contends as he reaches under her arm
to tweak her nipple.

"Shan't kiss you," Hermione says.

Harry dropped his arm after tweaking her nipple. He lifts it again to
take Hermione by the back of the head and pull her to him. She doesn't
even struggle when their lips meet.



The aftermath is unspeakable. No casualties, no bloody rows, not even
much in the way of loud commotion: It is unspeakable. No one wishes to
speak of it.

Guilty looks meet ambivalent shrugs. Beginning of confessions are met
with frantic shushing. No one wants to hear. No one wants to remember.
By tacit, mutual, all-embracing, unanimous silence, it is to be regarded as not having happened. It is the one who claims to remember
that is insane. It never happened.

There is guilt and contrition and to spare. Not even the most vindictive are interested in weighing sins in the balance. The unavoidable consequence is to bring them closer.

It may not have happened, but they were left naked and scrabbling for
their clothes as the spell subsided. Even were they to cling to the
amnesia of the madness itself, there was that time when, in their
right minds, they discovered more than most wished to know about one
another as they dressed.

"There was no way to prevent it," Hermione laments what never occurred.
"Even if we were to escape the hangings, there was that dratted dust."

What never happened had a distinct cause: garbled French.

"I knew it when I heard it," Hermione says. "That wasn't what he meant.
I don't know what it was- which means no known counter-curse, not 
unless you have time to work it out- test it."

"Good thing nothing happened," Hermione cuts off at a particularly
acute stare from Ron.

She manages to opine that the decorations were the carriers, of what
never happened, since Michael pointed his wand at them. She is 
mercifully free of her maniacal need to explain after that. Even she
is not sure herself about the actual mechanics that could make nothing
like that not happen.


Of course, such convenient fiction will never hold. There is the plausible deniability to hide behind, but you can't stop the talk.

"You know what didn't happen between Michael Corner and Cho Chang,
don't you? He certainly wasn't practicing his speech into her very
unusual microphone right up on the dais!"

The wise might know that keeping peace is the best course, not just
to repress return revelations, but that would be one good reason. However, it is difficult to gather some two dozen people and hope they
will all be wise.

The other matter, is perhaps a good one. Trusting love, two private
people might confess because the silence is more onerous than the
truth could ever be. It might be argued that the bond would be forged
stronger for having passed through the flame.

Contrarily, it might be contended that any bond broken apart was too
weak to stand the strain and not true in the first place. Of the
decision to test, or not test this theory, other conclusions might be
drawn, but that strays far from the topic.

"Harry, Ron," Hermione says. "He touched my nipple. I stroked his penis. Our lips touched. There might have been tongues but I don't
remember. Harry."

"So I'm a wanker, I'm a ogre, I'm a randy party boy!" Ron fumes.

"No one but you is saying that. I'm not saying that," Hermione is
growing hot. "That was why you could tell me- if you wished. You didn't
decide. It was something about being free to lust."

"And of course you don't lust after anyone but me," Ron huffs.

"I'm sorry, Ron, but I don't," Hermione says. "Harry interests me, of
course, but I don't feel that way for him. Only you, always you."

"But you might have? With Harry? If it wasn't so late and the curse
was wearing off?" Ron pounces like this will somehow prove a point.

"All right, I might have. I said the right words. I might have. Does
it make you feel better?" Hermione concedes.

"No," Ron sulks. "Because you wouldn't. You're saying it to be kind.
I know that, but it makes me feel worse."

"We've been over this, Ron," Hermione settles in, prepared to be patient yet one more time. "I don't have to forgive you for Lavender
or either of the Patil sisters, but I do. You know you have feelings
for Lavender. You'd be a monster if you didn't- snogging her all that time and not caring. I know you care for me more because I feel it.
And I love you."

"I don't deserve you, Hermione," Ron says desperately.

"No, but I love you still," Hermione says with the hint of a smile. "I
don't know what's wrong with me, but I always have."

"I only didn't encounter Neville. I'm sure I would have had him if I 
did. Maybe Lee as well. He's always around and maybe I'd fancy him,"
Ginny is trying to pad out her own poor score of Dean Thomas and
Michael Corner.

If tattling was the point she'd have more to say. She was more witness
than attraction, even having a memory of Ron's lily-white arse bouncing
atop Hermione that she'd like to scratch out of her eyes.

"Then we'll put them to your account and scratch them out as well,"
Harry is cheerily responding to Ginny's shame at her restraint.

"And I'm very sorry you didn't have a go with Luna," Ginny says,
putting her hand on his.

Harry understands. He feels it is very like his own feeling that, it
being a spell and not accountable, Neville should have had the opportunity to shag Ginny. 

"She wouldn't have me," Harry recalls. "Very clever about it too. I see
her plan now. She was bringing me back to you. Of course you were with
Corner by then."

Ginny gives Harry a suspicious look.

"No, I mean me," Harry interprets Ginny's reaction. "I don't think
Hermione got it quite right. Of course we were doing things we
wouldn't, but it wasn't just lust. I was very near murdering Corner
when I saw him on top of you."

"I'd say it was sweet, except it being murder, but what does it
matter?" Ginny asks.

"Nothing. Nothing at all," Harry sighs and leans his head on her shoulder. "I doubt it would matter if it wasn't a spell and you came
to me and said you loved only me."

Ginny looks at him more suspiciously. Harry doesn't miss the sharp
turn of her head. He sits up.

"I don't mean for you to," he says quickly. "I just love you so much I think I could forgive you anything to not lose you."

It is Ginny's turn to be soft and she reaches around to pull Harry's
head back to her shoulder.

"I'd love you even if you only loved me a normal amount," Ginny says.
"But I loved you before you loved me, so what do I know?"

"I'm yours?" Harry ventures.

"Oh yeah!" Ginny agrees.


No one minds the farewell feast being cancelled. Really- it was paid
for, so even the merchants are happy. No one seems eager to dare being
in a group again. Apart from the risk of another hex, it is simply
uncomfortable to meet certain eyes after the previous event that
never happened.

There is a hurried presentation in the town square to make up for the
pomp missed. Michael Corner hurries through his speech, eyeing Harry
with an unnecessary dread. Harry doesn't want to kill him now. That has passed.

If he could explain, Harry might tell Michael that he must forgive him
to forgive Ginny. Of course it's impossible, since nothing happened.

Harry is touched by the ceremony. Beyond the highly ignorable praise
set to his account, there is a tribute by Neville, who credits Harry
with making him believe in himself.

Seeing how Neville became a right leader in his own right, Harry feels
it is high praise. But it is the presentation that brings tears to 
Harry's eyes. Big brave Potter brought low by a broom.

Harry had hardly thought of it. There was enough to drive it out and
his mind had never returned to the subject, but someone- perhaps nearly
everyone else- remembered. The gift of a grateful class was a Firebolt.

Harry was too choked up to do more than mutter: Thank you all.



"Five more years will be the 10th reunion."

"Hmmm?"

"Five more years and you'll be 25."

"Hmmmmm!"

"Five more minutes and I'll let you free."

"Rrrrrrrrrr!!"

There's nothing like getting an early start on a celebration. The
early end of the festivities allowed Harry and Ginny to return home
just at dusk and be sitting down to supper before all went black.

The next he remembered he was secured to his bed with a horse's bit
in his mouth.

"I promised to make your birthday special this year," Ginny told him.

Since, she has been teasing him mercilessly with a feather and the
tip of a riding crop, her fingers and the judicious application of
her tongue when he didn't think he could stand another sensation.

Oh, and she's in loose weave black hose and suspenders with exceedingly
high heels. Nothing else. Black looks good against her fair skin and
contrasted with the red of her hair, particularly where the suspenders
frame the lower patch.

His penis throbs with an excess of her teasing and his nerves are as
raw as an open wound. There are only four more minutes before she has
promised to release him.

"Would you like me to relieve you now or do you have plans?" Ginny asks
him as she bends to kiss the tip of his penis.

Harry shakes his head, but is unsure she is paying attention as she
lowers her mouth again. It is open wide and goes over his penis, only
accidentally letting it brush any of the moist surface within. He can
feel her breath as she mimes without touching. Three minutes left.

"You seem so ready. Are you sure you wouldn't like to just go off?"
Ginny asks, this time her fingers draw patterns on the tight-drawn
skin of his scrotum, teasing over, around, under, as he squirms in
frustration. Two minutes.

"Oh my!" Ginny gasps as Harry jerks when her fingertip touches his anus. "I bet that would make you spout like a whale. Would you like to be a gusher? Would you like to show me how high you can spurt?

The last minute passes as Ginny lays over him to drag her breasts and
the hot tips over his body from belly to chest and back to belly. His
penis nestles in her cleavage as she looks up and says, "It's time."

Harry remains as she releases his legs first and then his hands. He
stays in position as she takes the bit from his mouth. Then he smiles.

"You may not see the next reunion, because I plan on fucking you to death tonight!" he says just as he sits up.

"Then you'll find plenty to step into my place," Ginny says coolly, not
ready to release her thrall yet, she kicks a thick book toward his
feet. "You might want to stand on that to reach me."

As he approaches, Harry sees what she means. As they are usually of a
height, she now towers over him six inches. It is an interesting
variance, which he puts to use. Her breasts are mouth height and as he
suckles them, he discovers the other part most conveniently positioned
by her height.

His penis not only runs freely along her labia, he can, with an easy
tilt of his hips, push just inside.

"Right where I want you," he says merrily.

"Oh, you want more," Ginny is giving him no victory until he takes it
full and without condition.

Yes he does. And he knows what he must do. It is no blot on his manhood
that she's drawn the path. He doesn't mind following one who knows the
way to more pleasure than he can dream.

Harry gets the book and turns Ginny to face the bed. He steps up and
bends her over until her hands are on the covers. Yes- that's right.
He drives into her and she gasps.

He thinks it might be false, for his benefit, but he appreciates it.
It is no more than her vocalizing his feeling at sinking into the
warm tightness. He lets himself have free rein. He has been aching
for this release, how long?

He would not be soon done were he done already. It has been an age and
he still has some distance to go. He thrusts deep and long. Sinking
into Ginny is best appreciated with the most sinking. He pulls back
as far as he dares to plunge back.

Oddly, strangely, contrarily, the time spent writhing in frustration
has left him even more determined to have all of her he can. He is not
quick to finish, but his finish is grand.

He feels every inch of her hug him as he ejaculates into her. He feels
her warmth to the kiss of her labia on his testicles. He shivers with 
the last spurt.

He feels deserted, questioning her hurry, when Ginny pulls away to 
fall on the bed. He is pleasantly rewarded and then almost painfully
so as Ginny turns over and sits on the bed to take his still
bobbing penis in her mouth. He squirms as if in agony, and is it close
enough, an agony of pleasure as she sucks on his penis with no mercy.

"Ginny, that was grand," he pants as her mouth grows gentler and the
tension begins to fade. "You have made it special."

"That's one," Ginny says as she looks up, cock-eyed smile in place,
"Wait for the other 19 to thank me."
	###