Keywords: M/F anal, oral Author: W R Jenkins Title: Potter: Wrong Turn 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: Wrong Turn (HP:wTurn.txt) - This obviously muggle- born wizard/witch must spend too much time peeking into the Muggle world. Wonder how her/his studies suffer aside, there are hints in the fan fiction that these peeks seem like looks into the Other Side. But enough guesses about the author- see what happens when Harry takes a: Wrong Turn. Deliberation, Determination, Destination, Delineation, Dejection, oh bother! (Voldemort and Draco and Snape, oh my!) Harry has no reference to the spinning segue to Oz, but he might recognize it in the dark, suffocating compression of Apparating. He only wonders why he feels turned when it was straight down a tight pipe before. He lands on hands and knees outside Zonko's and quickly runs his hands over his body to see if he's splinched. He's not. Only then does he look up and see he's overshot by two blocks. "I'll get the hang of it," he mutters to himself. "Don't like it anyway." He has urgent news for Dumbledore. He knows where Tom Riddle took those hapless kids on a day long ago. He's just been there and seen it. News of Quidditch will have to wait. "Where've you been?" Filtch challenges him at the gate to Hogwarts. "Detention, just got out," Harry doesn't care what Filch thinks. "More nonsense from Longbottom," Filch grumbles, "Don't think I'm not watching you." It's odd Filch isn't more interfering, but Harry doesn't mind. He can't fathom what Filch meant about Neville either. It's only the beginning of weird for Harry. "Oh, Potter, nice flying today. Why aren't you in the common room celebrating?" Professor McGonagall asks in the hallway to the headmaster's office. "I need to see Dumbledore. It's urgent," he says. "Professor Dumbledore- and why would he want to see you?" McGonagall seems to sneer at the idea. "I've got news," he says and she is unimpressed. "It's about him. About Voldemort!" "Well, yes, I'm sure," she says, still not yielding. "Why don't you put it into a note and I'll make sure the Headmaster gives it all the attention it deserves." Harry doesn't understand what has happened to McGonagall. He isn't getting by her and doesn't have a quill or parchment. He turns to go to the common room horribly confused. "Where were you off to?" he is confronted by Ginny as he enters a celebration. "Here one moment and then just gone? Bathroom emergency?" His heart beats like the feet of a fleeing rabbit upon seeing her. She is very familiar, but yet there's something lacking. She seems to be teasing him. "I had a mission," Harry says. "Oh, that's right, Neville does use you sometimes, doesn't he? Have you brought a good report?" Ginny asks. It's the second reference to Neville in the same strange manner. Harry is about to question Ginny when Hermione rushes up. Ginny regards her with a look of distaste and then moves off. "Oh Harry! I thought you'd left me," Hermione throws herself on Harry in a smothering hug. "I couldn't bear it. I felt so alone!" Harry wraps his arms around the girl so desperately clinging to him and takes the opportunity to look around. He has only had a taste of strange before. What he gathers as he scans the Gryffindor common room plants a disturbing suspicion. Lavender has somehow worked her way back into Ron's good books. She is holding him with both arms and looking up adoringly as Ron brags about something from the match. Ron's arm is around her as well. They seem to be together by mutual agreement. Dean Thomas is sitting near Romilda Vane and they are talking. Harry sees Dean's interest, and also that Romilda is politely entertaining it while scanning the room for better prey. Ginny is punching Katie Bell in the arm. He senses something funny about that. Then he sees Neville. Neville is sitting calmly, one could say regally, in the best chair by the fire. His arms are on the arms of the chair and he is in deep thought. Several are gathered around him as if waiting for his wisdom. The most shocking thing is the lightning bolt scar on his head. Harry is spinning. He frees one hand from Hermione's greedy grasp to touch his own forehead. The scar is still there. Some instinct, some feeling makes him quickly brush his hair to cover it. He doesn't know what's going on, but he thinks it best to raise no suspicion until he can work it out. "Don't you want to kiss me?" Hermione pouts. "You usually do." Well, that's one for him, Harry thinks as he bends to kiss Hermione. This is different as well. The closeness, almost halves of a whole, that Harry feels for Hermione does not seem to apply to the girl who is giving the frantic kiss. It is as if he can feel the deep wounds in this Hermione in the way her tongue is so eager to engage his and then fall back as needily for him to pursue. Still, there is something. It might be around him as the air, but he is comfortable pressed against her. He is getting aroused as well, but he's 16 and the kiss is far from painful. He doesn't account the significance of that. "That's my Harry," Hermione says happily, swiveling against the emerging erection. "Should we do something about it?" Harry knows her meaning in one sense, but what she means to do about it, and where, are mysteries. He can't take anything for granted now. He nods. "Oi! Off to seek something furry, are you?" Ginny calls out as Hermione pulls Harry by the hand. "You won't have to wait until we score 30 times this time, I'll wager." That was something. Gryffindor did have to beat Ravenclaw by 300 points. It seemed they had and Harry had done his part. It was half true and half wrong. Harry hadn't flown for Gryffindor. Ginny was the seeker against Ravenclaw, but the needed score was the same. His considering these facts make him miss the inference that they all are mockingly aware of his intentions, or Hermione's intention. Her intention, however, does intrude most noticibly when she drags him to his room- the same room he is used to- and throws herself on his bed. "Oh, you horrid boy! You mean to ravish me, don't you?" Hermione giggles as she lays on her back, spread out rather like a starfish on the beach. "No, I'd never," Harry says, but leaps up to land atop her. "Oh, aren't you going to undress?" Hermione seems puzzled. "But what if Ron comes back?" Harry asks, trusting that Ron is still his roommate. "He won't want me, you know that," Hermione says a bit sadly. It is too much to guess that this Hermione has never been accepted, perhaps shunned, and Harry is her only friend, but it is clear she is not the confident Hermione Harry knows. It is also clear she expects him to shag her and right on the bed and now. Not wanting to reveal himself as a stranger, as he is rapidly realizing, Harry kisses Hermione briefly and gets up to strip off. She watches happily, giggling when his erection bounces out of his underpants. She waits in her starfish position for him, not taking off anything. Timid or bold, Harry asks himself as he bends over Hermione. He decides it makes little difference as she will accept either. He is quickly understanding her, however confusing it is to see Hermione in this way. "Oh now, you mustn't, Hermione giggles happily, making her eyes wide as he slowly opens her robes. "What do you have to say about it?" Harry says gruffly. "I want to and will." She shivers. Harry is quite uncertain how to proceed. If he only had a fantasy to go by, he despairs. How to go about having Hermione has never occured to him, or Ginny, or Cho. He was blissfully relying on passion to carry him through. As he has no particular passion for Hermione, this or any other, he has to go by his wits, which he thinks he is foolish to trust. He opens her blouse and lays it back. I suppose I might like to look at her chest, he supposes and pushes her bra up to her collarbones. She giggles. He seems to be on the right track. He next pulls down her skirt, leaving her massive white underpants in disarray. I'm hardly one to judge, he reminds himself as the thought that her utilitarian underwear is hardly sexy crosses his mind. It seems she's shagged before and that puts her ahead of him. He pulls her underpants down to a reassuring gasp from Hermione. "Now don't look," she scolds a moment later. "You know I don't like it." Harry gets the impression that the Harry she knows is as timid as she is. Her voice is still uncertain, but it seems she expects to be obeyed. It's another note for the file. "I thought we'd do something different," Harry says putting out a finger to trace the slit between her labia. Her eyes are worried, but she doesn't stir from her position. She bears it but doesn't like it. Harry only notes it in passing. He is much more interested in his first view of a woman's genitals. "I don't see why you mind. It's beautiful," Harry lies slightly. It's overgrown and hard to make out what might be under the tangle of unruly and bushy hair. But it is kind and Hermione does seem to relax, if only a little. "Then you'll have me?" Hermione prods, her voice mouse-like. Harry doesn't have thought left over to probe the meaning of that. He is faced with the unknown and the need to get on with it. He vaguely knows the mechanics but is full of the fear there's things he's missed. He knows the first bit is to get over her, however, and does. "How could I not?" he asks when he assumes he is in position. Hermione moves. With him accepting her unmistakable invitation, she puts her hand between them and Harry feels her guide his penis. The Harry she knows must be rubbish at it as well. Then he sinks into her. Yes, this is another world. This is not the Hermione he knows. He is shagging a replica, so it's not the same. These are faint thoughts swirling past his notice as Harry feels the wet warmth surround his penis. So this is shagging, fills much of his mind. It's very nice. He finds he likes it. He finds he is fonder of Hermione than he ever knew. She is smiling happily up at him and he feels he loves her. Never mind the rest. It's all right now and right now there is nothing but how happy she makes him. He is happier than he's been in his life. "Oh Harry! What's gotten into you?" Hermione sighs happily. Who's gotten into me, Harry corrects in his mind. But then that flips over with the wicked sport of pleasure and he thinks, who have I gotten in to? "It's me getting in to you, I think," Harry says cheekily. "Well, I like it," Hermione confirms. Unsure how he is different and far from caring, Harry goes on. The thing about it is that the more he has, the more he wants. What began as the exploratory testing of this new wonder keeps growing into the need to explore more, faster. Then it isn't shagging, at least as he first thought. The nice friction of the warm sheath seems a cheat, a taunt, only a distraction from some other, greater thing. As Harry moves faster, and harder, this great thing seems to dance ahead of him just out of reach. As he tries harder, he seems to keep pace, but never catch up. "HARRY!" Hermione screams in his ear in what seems absolute panic. He is startled, but immediately feels her heels beat on him as she screams "NO! Don't stop!" even louder. He is startled back into motion and has hardly remembered the great thing that eluded him when something seizes at the back of his spine just where it meets his pelvis and he is paralysed. Except that he isn't. Harry is taken on a whirling ride that is beyond his control and nearly beyond his comprehension. He is only frozen in place and by what he now knows is an agonizingly wonderful feeling. His testicles are jumping and he feels his penis is burning with pleasure. The whole area in his groin seems the only thing alive, but it is alive in a way Harry wishes it was every moment of his life. Hermione is squirming in a very nice way and the insides of her that were so pleasant before are even nicer, but that is so pale against the commotion he feels. He is pouring out something. He feels it is the substance of pleasure, but impossibly, as it pours out, he feels filled even more. "You do love me," Hermione says, starry-eyed. "It can't be good if you don't love me." "Of course I love you," Harry says somewhat absently. He is still trying to deal with what has happened. He's heard other boys enthuse about sex, but they were either poor describers or he has experienced something they didn't. "Outstanding" doesn't even begin to cover the start of it, let alone the end. He has other matters to deal with, however. Hermione pulls him down into a suffocating and choking kiss and seems unwilling to ever let go. It's only then that Harry realizes his penis is still inside her and that that's still very nice. It's nice in a way that he can appreciate and still feel her taut nipples press into his chest, which is nice as well. Finally over the outright terror that he won't get it right, Harry is thinking that shagging is something he might quite like to do rather often. Hermione seems nothing loathe and no one else seems to mind. Whatever else might be out of place, Harry thinks this bit might not be so bad. "What?" Hermione looks up in doubt as Harry pulls away. "I quite think we should go again," Harry suggests. "Oh, don't tease," Hermione scowls. "You say that so I'll suck your thing." Suck? In her mouth? Harry has not pushed himself up off her. In parting their faces so he can talk, he is still within range of her nipples brushing his chest. He notes that after the very idea of his penis in her mouth has made his penis surge inside her. Going again seems very likely to him. "You wait and see," Harry promises. This Hermione is much easier to order about. Her only confusion seems to be that Harry isn't easier. In any case, she lays quiet as Harry explores her breasts. This is quite exciting on many levels. Wherever he is, they are very pleasant and appreciably large mounds of squishy flesh. They form easily in his hands and overflow his grip even when he spreads his fingers to try and contain them. Her nipples are tight, berry-like knobs that make her flinch when he flicks his finger over them. That is very exciting where he is, but it also gives Harry an additional twinge to know that this place is very like the home he knows and that the Hermione there is likely to have just these breasts as well. He might not fancy her that way, but thinking of being so familiar with these parts of her anatomy still interests him. There is also the purring, cooing content of this Hermione as he fondles her breasts. Her eyes wonder, but with a curious wonder, not one of fear. It also seems to prompt a certain restlessness where Harry's penis still rests within her. He finds himself responding with small movements of his hips to encourage the restlessness. "Can you really do that?" Hermione seems impressed beyond wonder as she asks. "We'll see," Harry is non-commital because he doesn't know what she's talking about. He is more concerned by what seems to be happening inside her. His fondling, another kiss and the rock of his hips seems to be affecting him. It feels like another erection coming on. He pushes up and lets his knees spread a little and then feels he's erred. His penis slips and threatens to drop out of her. He stops to prevent it, but doesn't push back, not knowing if it will help or hinder. Instead, he resolves to continue the inventory that seemed to restore his desire in the first place. Thighs are a bit plumper, he assesses as he looks her over. Perhaps a more childish curve of belly as well. He doesn't recall noticing if his Hermione is an innie or an outie, but this one is outie for sure. "Why are you looking at me?" Hermione asks nervously. "Because you're beautiful," Harry says. "I like looking at you. It's quite pleasant, really." Hermione giggles and Harry has a moment of panic since this seems to make her vagina squeeze him out. But it doesn't. He feels it as a tickle and perhaps a sign that his erection is returning. He does push toward her. His penis goes in. He is stiff enough for that at least. Then the rest will come as he's going on with it, he reckons. He sweeps his eyes once more over Hermione and then leans to her. He stops to kiss a nipple and then the other. The way she giggles makes his penis twitch. "You are," Hermione says in amazement as he bends to kiss her. Harry finally gets to it. She means that he is going to shag her again. It is unknown territory for all Harrys, he assumes. Well the other one can't be much of a man, Harry thinks, not recognizing that he's critisizing himself. This Harry with this Hermione certainly can. He finds he is well stiff enough to stroke in and out of her. It might not be the urgent erection as he knows it, but it is certainly solid enough for the task. Its state doesn't seem to lessen the sensation, either. "You don't have to make me cum this time," Hermione says as he begins, with what he takes as kind intention. "But you don't mind?" Harry half asks, because he wasn't aware what he had done before and not sure how he can prevent it. She pulls him down in reply and he is again plunged into the aggressive attack of tongue. He takes that to mean she doesn't mind. As if he has awakened more than this shocked gratitude, Harry feels Hermione move under him. He feels she is opening to him, but it takes the brush of her thighs along his hips for him to sense it is because she is lifting her legs. Without notice and barely considered even then, Harry feels himself thrust into her with more purpose. He is following the sensation he craves and it is in driving deep into her with deliberate surges. He is no longer distracted by the wet flesh that surrounds him, although aware of its stimulation. He knows that the thing he seeks, the grand thing, the explosion, is buried somewhere inside Hermione. He drives deep to seek it; he thrusts to reach it. Then sensation is the stage and his seeking is the player. It is the quest that brings the reward not the parts questing. He is, of course, not having such lofty thoughts, though they are a fair representation of the urge he feels. He is simply rogering Hermione roundly in pursuit of orgasm. "Who are you?" Hermione keens, "Who are you?" Harry does not respond to the chilling question because Hermione is wrapping her legs about him as she cries out. It is not challenging in any case. Her tone says she is glad of it, whomever he is. Harry responds to the tone and her twining about him. He can hardly thrust into her with more intent, but he does feel her welcome as gladness in his own heart. She doesn't shriek so loudly as he pounds her over the crest. It is all breathy exhalation with a tint of mournful surrender as she stiffens and pulls at him all the harder. He is more aware of the commotion about his charging organ this time as she seems to prompt him to find what he seeks inside her. He is not yet so accustomed to this as to give the contractions credit, but he feels her gratitude has something to do with his finding the goal. He is distracted instead by the lessened paralysis when the moment comes. He finds he can make furtive, almost comical attempts to continue thrusting as his genitals come alive and he feels the bright sparking consumation of spurting completion. He is filled fuller for the emptying, he revises in the crisis. It is not sending out brings more in, but that making the room leaves space that can be filled even more. And there is pleasure even in what is ejected. That's quite enough to ponder. Harry finds himself interrupted- in his thoughts- more quickly by Hermione's glowing face clearing into focus. The strange girl is weeping as she beams. Tears run down the side of her face from the corners of her eyes as she smiles at him. Ron might ask what's the matter, or more unlikely, did he hurt her. Harry has absorbed enough of her to guess another reason. "I've always loved you," he says quietly. "I just haven't known how." For once she doesn't want to smother him in a kiss for it. She seems more eager just to look at his face. As this is quite all right, as far as Harry is concerned, he stays where he is to let her look. "You two play Parchesi before you start?" Ron's rude query makes Harry start. "No, he's just done twice," Hermione says dreamily. "And did a unicorn come out of his bum?" Harry hears Lavender's sneering reply. Harry doesn't know how to take it, but Hermione seems unperturbed. He takes his clue from her and remains in place. He notes that Hermione rather quickly puts her legs back onto the bed from where they had wrapped around him in her passion. "Well, then I don't expect you need to see the master class then," Ron says. "Seeing you're all advanced and all." "No, certainly nothing to learn from us," Lavender giggles as she follows Ron's lead. Harry has a glimmer, but he can hardly think he is right. Hermione is still not stirring, certainly in no hurry to be off. He withdraws reluctantly from Hermione and kisses her cheek before turning to face Ron and Lavender. "Awww, he's kissing her," Lavender seems to think it scandalous. Harry thinks it is scandalous that she is disrobing so casually in front of him. She is paying him no mind as she throws her clothes on Ron's chair as if they were alone in the room. "He's always been a wanker," Ron responds, "but he is one hell of a Seeker. You've got to make allowances." Ron is no less casual. It seems and may well be an every day occurence. Ron is starkers while Lavender is pulling down her knickers and hops on the bed to land on his back. Lavender gives him a dirty look as if she knows what is coming. "I really don't think Hermione has got the hang of it yet. Why don't you show her once more," Ron says, holding his limp penis up with one hand. "All right," Lavender sounds agreeable but is less than sprightly as she gets on the bed beside Ron with her face at his crotch. "Now watch and see how it's done." She affects a superior air, but Harry has seen enough to guess she is less eager than she makes out. He puts his arm around Hermione, drawing a surprised look, as they lean against the headboard of his bed to watch. Lavender is very demonstrative as she goes down to take Ron's penis in her mouth. She reaches bottom, his reddish scrotum like some morsel of food she can't quite fit in an over-eager mouthful. Her eyes come up to find Hermione's. Clearly, this is a skill in which she takes great pride. She moves up and back. Ron is grinning behind her. He is looking at Harry. He is gloating at what Lavender is doing for him. Harry has the sense it is partly at Lavender's expense and for Ron's benefit in proving himself in some way. Lavender's great pride is largely illusion, Harry sees as Ron's penis stiffens. Whatever she hoped to prove by resting her lips on his testicles is beyond her when Ron's penis becomes erect. She is hardly able to go halfway down the shaft when it is erect. He thinks she hurries through it to disguise her ineptitude, but he can grant that it might be her reluctance in the first place that makes her wish to be done sooner. In either case, she begins to bob very quickly and Ron shouts and grabs her hair. "Not if we're going to show them how to shag," he cautions. In all, it is a very tepid demonstration. Harry allows himself the pleasure of looking at Lavender's naked body, for reference, of course. She is actually smaller-breasted then Hermione, but not much so. She is more generous in the hips and bum, if less in thigh. That stands for the less than interesting coupling that follows. Harry thinks he understands better Hermione's confusion if he is usually as brusque and brief as Ron. Ron gets between Lavender's legs and rams into her in one. His bum begins to bounce on contact and he is as rapid and shallow as a hound on a bitch. The whole procedure, once Lavender took his penis out of her mouth takes perhaps two minutes. Both Lavender and Ron come up grinning, but Harry thinks Lavender's smile must be put on. He saw nothing like the way Hermione moved from Lavender and suspects she had as little pleasure as it appeared. Girls do not stay over here. Harry learns that because Lavender and Hermione both leave at what seems an appointed time. He braces for a conversation with Ron, which he has no idea how he will complete, but Ron seems singularly uninterested. Harry gets a clue when a strange Barn Owl flies to him with a letter at breakfast. There's no pouch for knuts, so Harry assumes it is a personal owl. It might even be his for all he knows. The letter is certainly his, addressed to: Harry Potter, Great Hall, Hogwarts. He opens it and his heart nearly stops. Darling Harry, it begins, I know how the others must treat you, but your father and I are *very* proud of you. We have just heard of the shocking way those horrible Slytherin boys treated Hermione and we are *so* proud of the way you stood up for her. I know you have had little comfort in your choice, but sticking by her only shows what a fine little man you are growing up to be. It may seem a small matter with You-Know-Who on the loose, but you will find there really aren't little things in the world, only little people. You know how I sympathize with Hermione, knowing how hard it is for myself and I hope you can give her the kind of strength your father has always given me. She could use it, I must say, though I mean no disrespect. She is a more fragile girl than I was and needs you even more. Don't fear for us, because we are still safe. Dumbledore's plan, you know the one I mean, is working perfectly and your father has even been able to do some small things for the Order. Keep your head up, my dear, and don't let all that is happening bother you. That falls to poor Neville and I am sure, as Dumbledore assures us all, that he will triumph in the end. Be safe and I will write again soon Love, Mom. Harry feels the need to cry, but he only blinks repeatedly against the cold, dead feeling like something has reached out from the grave to touch him. This Harry still has a family. He cannot feel the joy he might, because he knows they aren't his. Not really. His are dead and these are someone else's and it won't change anything to pretend. In some way it is crueller than he can bear. In some part he knows he should be happy they live somewhere, but he can't push aside his loss to feel it. "Letter from home?" Hermione asks timidly. "Yeah," Harry says, crumpling it before he has to think more, "They're proud I stood up for you." "Your mother is such a beautiful woman," Hermione sighs. "I wish I could be more like her." Harry is torn between disgust and pity for this poor thing. He has absorbed more from the letter than he realizes and knows much of the reason she is the way she is. He feels sorry for it, but that fights the loss of the confident, reliable Hermione he counts on. She is much the same in class, he notes. She does not dart her hand in the air to answer. She never puts her hand up at all. Yet the teachers, on seeing no volunteers, never fail to call on her and she never fails to give the proper answer. She is still brilliant, but afraid to put herself forward. "Potter, I still don't have your letter explaining what is so important that it needs the Headmaster's attention," McGongall says sternly. "Ahhh... It wasn't so important after all," Harry says, not sure how he can explain everything he suspects. "I see," says McGongall stiffly. "Then perhaps you should explain why it is not. See me after class." Hermione is terribly worried as Harry follows McGonagall to the Headmaster's office. Harry notes how little her look differs from her normal look. It is all he can manage amid all the thoughts of doom that come over him. "Headmaster, the Potter boy. He was rushing to your office with something very important to say last night when I intercepted him. He can't seem to recall it now, however," McGonagall starts sternly, but there is something mocking in her last words. "Very well, Minerva, I will handle it," a particularly harried Dumbledore looks up from his desk. "Come boy, come here," Dumbledore summons Harry impatiently when McGonagall has left. There is no recognition. This Dumbledore barely knows who he is. If he is the good seeker Ron said, perhaps for that, but more... Harry goes to sit in one of the chairs he has so often occupied in another place. "What was your news?" Dumbledore asks. Harry is as nervous as facing Voldemort tied to a gravestone. So much might depend on his answer. Finally Harry decides that Dumbledore is a good man and cannot be evil in any imagination. He must try to explain the truth. "I can't say it means anything where Neville is the Chosen One, but I know where Tom Riddle took the children from the orphanage," Harry blurts out. Harry has done something he has never managed before. He has surprised Dumbledore. Dumbledore recovers quickly, the lids hooding his eyes, but then pauses a long time studying Harry. His hands come up for him to look over the tips of his fingers at him. Then he drops his hands to his desk and sits back. "Can I ask how you know this?" Dumbledore inquires. "What part? Begging your pardon, about the place Riddle took them?" Harry asks. "They went to the seaside and I could guess where that might be." "Who is this Tim Riddle?" Dumbledore asks, most infuriatingly. "Tom Riddle, the one who calls himself Voldemort," Harry says with some frustration. "I know it's odd. I don't know why you should believe me, but I know a lot of stuff I should never." "Neville has shared these things with you?" Dumbledore asks, the look of concern coming back to his face. "No," Harry says firmly, "But I know it's hard to believe me. I'd tell you more, but then you'd think Neville told me. I don't know how to explain." "The beginning is usually the best place to start," Dumbledore says quietly, seeming to be almost the Dumbledore Harry knows. "Then start with this," Harry says and pulls back his hair. It is a very long conversation. Harry misses (oh darn) potions as he sits and tries to explain. Dumbledore listens with interest, stopping him only to correct a fact here and there. They quickly come to the realization that certain things Harry remembers have not happened as he recalls. Beginning with Neville surviving the Killing Curse, it is not hard for either of them to understand. "You don't think I'm crazy?" Harry looks to Dumbledore for assurance. "No, I do not. Nor are you a liar. I am sure of that as well," Dumbledore says. "But knowing what you are not has not helped me determine what you are. I will have to make some inquiries. Consult some wizards that are, as might be said, on the fringes of our world. While I do that, I think it best if this conversation does not go beyond these walls." "Oh no, sir, the Dumbledore where I'm the Chosen One is just the same," Harry says. "I won't tell anyone." "I do think there may have to be consequnces, however," Dumbledore says with a twinkle in his blue eyes. Harry regards him cautiously. He is too lost in the swirl of everything that has happened, is happening to be much concerned. And that look usually preceeds a wry jest- where he comes from at least. "I will recommend that you be given detention- I think Minerva expects it," he says, and on getting no response from Harry, shrugs and goes on, "It will strengthen our story. But you will serve the detention with me so we can answer each other's questions as they arise. I will fabricate some story about my office needing straightening." Hermione is literally hopping from one foot to the other in distress when she sees Harry. "You aren't expelled?" she asks in panic. Harry shakes his head. "Just detention. I have to straighten up Dumbledore's office," he says. She looks at him with fear and awe. It is almost as if she fears to touch him as they walk back to the common room. "Dumbledore," she murmurs. "Dumbledore's office." It's clear she regards Dumbledore as a holy man and his office a holy shrine. Harry gets the impression she'd break every rule if the punishment was to be in his divine presence. He catches his amusesment before it becomes mocking. He understands the awe of Dumbledore and he thinks this one deserves it no less than the one he knows. "Thanks, Potter!" Ginny snarls at him even as he steps into the common room. "Neville reckons it's your fault I don't have anyone to shag." "News to me," Harry says calmly. "Dumbledore didn't tell me that you can't shag Neville." He marvels at himself. Perhaps he adjusts to this place more than he knows. Ginny affected him just one night before, but now he's only reacting to her attitude. It clearly takes her aback. Damn, Harry thinks. I'm mild-mannered. I shouldn't draw attention to myself. The harm's done. Ginny closes in on him, squinting into his eyes. She is still as tall as he is. It is an uncomfortable moment. "Didn't say I can't shag you, either, I'll wager," Ginny says fiercely. There's a squeak from Hermione. Ginny smiles evilly. "That's it then. Potter, I require you in my chambers, come along, that's a good boy," Ginny says as if she's allowed. "You can tag along," she throws off to Hermione. Hermione's head is down but she steps forward as Ginny turns. Harry takes this small clue to mean Ginny is allowed to require his services. Head spinning at this development, Harry has little time to ponder as Ginny announces, "Visitor!" as she leads him to the girl's dormitory. It isn't a warning to the girls to cover up. None of them are fussed as Harry walks by. Few even lift their heads to notice, despite many being in all stages of undress and several completely naked. They don't seem to care if he sees. Harry finally suspects Ginny issued some command that lets him pass the stairs. "Ah, Lavender," Ginny greets her roommate as she enters, "I suppose this will bore you, having watched so many times before." "I don't know," Lavender responds. "He kissed her last night, right in front of Ron and me." Ginny finds that amusing. Harry is still working out whether kissing is odd or if it is the cloud of disapproval he's already sensed over Hermione. Whichever it is, it is cruel and stupid. He doesn't think he likes the way things have gone here. If he wasn't noble, care for others more than yourself, Harry, the night may have changed his mind. If he was out for his own pleasure, there was enough of it here. "Well, get undressed!" Ginny turns to him as if he should have done without mention. He is getting bits of it but it isn't coming together as a whole. Sex is a spectator sport and as much required as allowed, he's learning. Where that connects to affection or even concern for each other is a part he's having difficulty with. He lays naked on the bed and awaits whatever comes next. He is not very surprised it is ridicule. "He's not interested in me. Me!" Ginny is offended he isn't excited. "You haven't really given him much to see," Lavender offers. "He can't stay that way long if you strip off." "I shouldn't have to," Ginny says grumpily. "I must be the face of his every fantasy. He should be hard in anticipation." Harry finds it ironic and also too sad to laugh. She is the face on his every fantasy, but he doesn't like her. She is over-bearing and conceited and he finds her horrible. "You there," she waves at Hermione as if naming her is too familiar. "You know what to do," she says as she begins to undress. What Hermione knows to do is suck his penis. Harry feels a flood of tender feelings for her as she smiles pathetically at him before putting her mouth over the limp organ and sucking. It does feel marvelously nice and Harry thinks he might fairly pop into erection without the lingering sense Hermione is forced to a task she dislikes. It is still effective. Harry soothes himself by thinking it would be worse if Hermione was ineffective. He goes so far as to enjoy the feel of her lips moving along the shaft as her head moves up and down. "So, not so pathetic," Ginny asseses as she drags Hermione back by the hair. Since she is staring at his penis, Harry assumes it is supposed to be some kind of compliment. "Move over so you can put it to some good use," Ginny demands with a knee on the bed. She plops into place and then turns her head as if he should have already done something. He thinks she should have done something and tries to rememdy that with his knee as he gets between her legs. Now that they're open wide enough, Harry probes with his penis. He was glad of Hermione's guidance and finds it harder than he thought to find the right spot. "Trying to be the Golden Child?" Ginny sneers. "Put it in and shag me." Well. Harry drives forward and finds his penis makes its own way into her, after glancing off some parts of her at least. He tries to recall how Ron managed and bounces rapidly on top of her. It resembles what he had with Hermione as much as a raspberry tart resembles a dog turd. He keeps at it because he's not told to stop until Ginny protests. "Eunuch? No balls? Can't you come off?" she snaps at him in rapid sucession. "Get off me!" Harry is happy enough to comply. There was enough of what he'd felt as the stage, but no players on it. Her insides were right, but he felt no desire. "Why doesn't he try with his sweet little love monkey?" Lavender taunts in a mockingly girlish voice. "Good idea," Ginny says nastily. "You there- get on the bed." Hermione looks terrified. Even his smile can't calm her. She opens her legs for him, but she is tense. He enters her and then kisses her. She seems shocked. Harry hears the giggles behind him. He begins to thrust. Yes, this is more like it. He isn't frantically trying to re-create Ron's dog-fuck and it seem to flow. Even Hermione seems less upset as he goes on. Thinking he knows what will calm her, he lays close, pressing his body to hers and puts his mouth next to her ear. "This is much better because I want to be with you," he whispers. Hermione begins to shake. It is poor timing, unless it is passion overcoming her, because Harry is reaching a point where he can't pause to soothe her. He thrusts on, moving faster as he feels the grand thing creeping up- creeping at a trot- to catch him. It isn't quite the same, but marvelous anyway. He can thrust through the process and does. It doesn't make his mind explode in fireworks as it has, but it still beats the second best feeling he's ever had by a good six furlongs. Then he stops and breathes into Hermione's hair. "No, he didn't!" Ginny is wroth. "Get off. Let me see." Harry is rudely shoved aside and Ginny even more rudely pushes Hermione's legs apart to examine her vulva. She scowls at what she sees. "You're more useless than anyone thought, Potter," Ginny snarls at him. "No good to anyone that counts." "Then let him have someone who doesn't," Lavender suggests. "He just did!" Ginny snaps, but then gets an evil smile. "Demelza! Demelza Robins! Get your smug little ass in here!" Ginny calls out. "Go on then, you *love* him, it must make it easier," Ginny turns on Hermione. Hermione's smile is more defiant, even proud as she turns about to take Harry's penis in her mouth once more. It is all so troubling that Harry doesn't try to make sense of it. He is simply relieved that Hermione seems gladder of her task this time. It seems she is. He doesn't feel the ambivalence of enjoying her mouth on his member this time. She is not so precise and mechanical, as her mouth moves up and down. She pauses to kiss the head at one point and Harry thinks she might not be as repulsed as it seems girls are wherever it is he's got to. He doesn't think it's her timid reaction either. The way she seems to strive to make it special argues affection. He is interrupted in his assessment as a new girl comes into the room. "Harry Potter is a lover," Ginny scoffs in this girl's direction. "He can't do it for important people, so you give him a go, Demelza." "I didn't mean it. I slipped," Demelza protests. "Everyone knows you're the best flier, even better than Potter. No one thinks because you fell off..." "Did I ask you to whine?" Ginny cuts her off. "I said give Potter a go. Once that pathetic little lump gets him up." It certainly wasn't his world. Harry can't imagine what could make Ginny so nasty. She did like her own way, but she was clever about it, not like the bitch here. He was less interested in this Demelza stripping off. That isn't to say he wasn't attentive. Naked women were still too interesting for him to ignore the breasts, the hips, that part between their legs, but it was her body that caught his eye, not who she might be. That wasn't very nice of him, he thinks when Hermione accomplishes her task and Demelza lays down where she had been. She is a human being in her own right and worthy of respect. Her breasts are pretty too. He plays with them a bit as he adjusts his hips to be in position. He sees her look of surprise as Ginny scolds him. "Shag her, Potter!" Ginny demands. "She's no one. You'll like her." Demelza is likely to be worthy of great respect, Harry revises as he pushes into her. It seems the people that really matter are the ones Ginny doesn't like. "That's a pretty big one," Demelza tells Harry when he is inside her. Harry doesn't answer. He can't think of anything to say and he has better things on his mind. He smiles as he moves his hips. Demelza takes his lead and doesn't continue the conversation. Yes, oh yes, the pursuit is the prize. Harry puts his arms out to lift high over Demelza as he thrusts into her. This isn't the same as being with Hermione, who he has feelings for, and just the perfect opportunity to have a more comprehensive look at the process. Demelza doesn't look troubled. He doesn't guess that she finds it more interesting one way than another, but he does. There is a basic nakedness that Harry took for granted before. Seeing it makes the process more... sexy. Watching Demelza's pretty little breasts bounce fits in that category. Harry finds the grand thing he seeks is pleased by the sight. He moves faster and more vigorously into Demelza and it seems she is pleased and responds. "Oh fuck no! Fuck no!" Ginny snarls somewhere behind him. Fuck yes! Harry is feeling it starting again. It is like some sap deep in a tree that he needs to pump up from the depths. Demelza is reaching up for him and Harry lets himself down part way as he frantically tries to make the sap rise. Demelza is helping, he thinks obliquely as her hips pump in time with his own. He feels it coming... He feels it explode! He isn't sure if he is still moving as it flows out of him or if he is being tossed on Demelza's hips. He is moving, but who is responsible is beyond his wit or care. "Fucking worthless cunt!" Ginny snarls. "That proves it. He can't come off with any one worth having." Demelza seems rather unconcerned with the names she is called. Harry notices a private kind of smile on her lips as he moves off her. He doesn't know how it was for her, but he has angered Ginny and that seems to be a good thing wherever he has landed. Harry is allowed to gather his clothes and should be grateful for that. He and Hermione are shuttled naked out of Ginny's room and he is shuffled out of the dormitory. Hermione seems allowed to stay, it is the girl's dormitory, but comes with him to the common room. "What's with her?" Harry asks as they pull their robes over their naked bodies. "She's the Chosen One's *girlfriend*," Hermione hisses with more heat than Harry has seen her allow herself since he arrived. "But you notice Neville isn't around." When Neville returns, Harry's new life changes. He is summoned into the great one's presence and then, to their displeasure, his trusty crew is banished. "Let me see it," Neville says simply. Harry finally feels free of the subterfuge he's been practicing and the part he's had to play. He's Harry Potter again, the one he really is. He pulls back his hair. "Dumbledore says it's real. We have to trust Dumbledore," Neville says. "The only one he ever feared," Harry offers. Neville knits his brows and then sits back, "I wouldn't say he fancies me." Nope. Not free. Neville is a bit full of himself. Stopped Voldemort from using the Sorcerer's Stone by returning with Dumbledore in time to prevent Quriell/Voldemort's escape, narrowly missed saving Eloise Midgen but got the diary to Dumbledore in time to prevent Riddle from achieving full form, avoided Voldemort's second attempt to deny the prophecy by being on holiday with his grandmother... As Harry has learned, Neville is a better, if less haunted Chosen One. He didn't prevent Voldemort from taking form, but neither did Harry. If he is more bloodless than Harry he is also less reckless. When they meet, Voldemort will face a foe that will not flinch at a feint and will have to take him head-on. He doesn't take criticism well, either. Harry slides back a step into the meek Harry Neville expects. "You have power he knows not," Harry quotes and Neville sits up. "Yes, you are me from somewhere else, quite a thing, hard to get used to," Neville says as he relaxes back into his chair. "Things have gone differently for me," Harry says, quickly saying, "Not so smoothly. But I think I'd like to go back." Neville nods in approval. Harry is quite sure Neville feels there's only room for one Chosen One in his world. "Dumbledore will arrange it. I think we agree that he's the best hope either of us have," Neville says. "We have to trust Dumbledore," Harry echoes Neville's earlier words. Neville nods again. He brings the? meeting? interview? to an end by saying, "I'll be looking out for you. Make things a bit easier in the future." All in all, Harry feels slighty grimy after talking to Neville. Those slow, knowing nods, Harry sneers to himself, reassuring- my arse. He's playing at being the great man and he's nothing but terror inside. Harry know this for sure. He knows it's been like a ticking clock somewhere in his head since he found out the final confrontation was unavoidable. He knows how he feels. He knows Neville can feel no different if he is human. Which all leaves him nowhere but glad it is not his world. His world may not be better, even much worse, but for the first time he sees what it is like to have his fate in the hands of another. He might not like being chosen to do it, but now he knows he feels better that he doesn't have to trust it to someone else. "Potter is it?" Luna seems unsure she has found the right boy. "Yes, Luna," Harry says. She gives an appreciative bob of her head for being recognized and then tosses it to the side as a direction to follow her. Harry is getting his first taste of Neville looking out for him. He falls into step with Hermione tagging along like a puppy at his heels. It seems Luna will escort him to his classes to make sure no one molests him in the halls. Harry is not chuffed by this patronizing measure on Neville's part, but he does see the benefit. While he feels quite capable of dealing with things himself, Hermione is a target for cruder things than he could imagine would be tolerated and it seems even she comes under the protection. "I don't think you have to accompany us everywhere. I think people have got the point," Harry tells her near the end of the day. "I mean, you must have your own things to attend to." "I don't mind," Luna says. "I really don't. I think it's very nice of you to keep Hermione. It's brave. And it's very sweet. I think it is just small-minded to mind." Harry finds it odd that she says this in front of Hermione and that Hemione pretends not to notice, but this Luna is the most unaffected person he's found- wherever it is he is. He comes to his detention with Dumbledore after supper with many questions. None of them are about his ultimate fate and Dumbledore's progress. "Keep her?" Dumbledore repeats. "My- you come from a strange place." Hogwarts students- here- are paired fourth year. Requests are noted and given weight. Those with no preference or no prospects are thrown together by lot. Purpose: sexual intimacy. Altogether a very reasonable alternative to trial and error, Dumbledore opines. Exchanges may be made at any time. Changes- unwanted partners pooled and paired afresh- happen at New Year and between terms. The object is not love. No random pairing can force that. It is to get a basic competency in mechanics. It is, Dumbledore maintains, much more reasonable to have lovers connect when they know what they are doing than to expect them to muddle through it. Such confusion and unequal understanding dooms pairings that might be viable were the partners better versed. Love brings its own signals, the higher bliss of being together lifts them to a place beyond mere contact. And it is something only truly understood at the last levels of school. The object is learning- thus the advanced are encouraged to demonstrate. Love will find its own way. This sounds like a lab experiment to Harry and he notices Dumbledore speaks of it as an outsider. He moves on to another concern. "Hermione is treated like dirt and no one does anything about it. Why is that?" Harry asks. Dumbledore gives him an uncomfortable look and clears his throat several times. "That is an unfortunate thing and one, I assure you, that is looked most dimly on at Hogwarts. But the ugly truth is that there are those that will always look down on the Muggle-born. I fear your friend only makes that worse for herself by being brilliant, evoking jealousy and fragile, inviting abuse," Dumbledore says. "It is not, I hasten to say, as I or any of the staff wish it, but I am afraid those that feel that way are careful to do it out of the view of those eyes." Out of sight, out of mind, Harry thinks to himself. He is not convinced by the earnestness with which Dumbledore speaks. As he thinks of it, it explains why Neville, pure blood that he is, feels superior even before having the mantle of Chosen One wrapped around him. At least the conference leaves Harry more prepared for Luna when he emerges. "Have you seen the rooms for Inter-House Studies?" Luna asks. It sounds innocent enough. Even Hermione, who has come to be his barometer in such matters, doesn't seem stressed by the reference. Harry is not so shocked, having heard Dumbledore's explanation, but he was not expecting rows of cubicles, each with a bed. "I thought it might as well be pleasant since you have to put up with me all day," Luna says airly as she walks into one of the cubicles and pokes the bed. Harry watches as she makes her selection, two rooms from the end, and begins to disrobe. Hermione obediently walks to the cubicle. Not to be left standing like a fool, though he also thinks about betraying his identity, Harry follows Hermione. There are pegs in plenty along the walls and Harry begins to strip off because he's learned there's no escape. He is hanging up his trousers, leaving his underpants on the floor as Luna and Hermione are arranging themselves on the bed. When he turns, he sees they are exploring each other's breasts. His confusion must show on his face because Hermione tells Luna, "He's just not used to it because hardly anyone wants anything to do with me." "Shows how stupid they are," Luna says kindly. "Maybe they wish they had breasts like yours." Harry hasn't been keeping inventory. His immediate interest is in the genuiness of Luna's comment. It is true that Hermione does have as large a pair of breasts as he's noticed. They are larger than Luna's which he estimates at the crude measure of half a handful. He recalls looking at Lavender and finding her nearly as large, but not quite. Ginny- three-quarters. Demelza was much as Luna is, some little difference that hardly matters one way or the other. It exhausts his actual perusal. He doesn't recall seeing larger ones as they passed the girls in the dorm but he wasn't staring. It is enough to think that Luna is being pleasant, without needing to know if she's honest. Harry suspects the prejudice runs deeper in this Hogwarts and that Luna's disregard almost counts for lack. He also has run out of delaying tactics and must decide where he is to be in the bed. The girls seem happy with their explorations. He wonders if he is unneccesary, at least for the present. There is a wider part behind Hermione and he uses that room as his excuse to lay down behind her. "You probably love her," Luna says as he gets into bed. "I've seen you two and I've suspected. It's the most logical explanation." "He told me he did," Hermione giggles. "After he proved it." Luna's eyes get wide and her smile wider. It seems that this is a miraculous event. Harry thinks her next request is for them to prove it to her- in front of her, so she can see it. "Well, he might be able to love a lot of women," Luna remarks, looking at Harry's penis. "Do you think you'd mind if he loved me?" This is so insane Harry doesn't need to hear the answer. How can Hermione *let* him love Luna? Luna's all right, but he hardly knows his own Luna and is only fond of her. How can Luna expect him to bust out in love right there. In truth, his *love* for this Hermione is questionable and fragile. He feels more obliged to say it for what it means to her than feel it. "I think he can," Hermione says seriously. "He breaks tons of rules, but I think that's why. He's loved me every time since the Ravenclaw match." Harry gets a glimmer. It is another world. Maybe he's dealing with another concept or another meaning of love. It's not enough to make the connection, but it is enough to plant the suspicion. "Come here, Harry, let's see," Luna invites, "Come on, Hermione says she doesn't mind." Harry is surprised enough to see them let go of each other's breasts. They have been touching each other until they are both squirming the entire time they talked. He was expecting to wait his turn. "This is awkward," Harry says as he settles between Hermione and Luna. "Are you uncomfortable? It it my elbow? Should I move?" Luna is suddenly a flood of questions, she drops her voice to ask. "Are you going to use one of the *French* positions?" "No, I mean as I hardly know you," Harry says. "Well, I suppose that makes it harder to love me," Luna says reasonably. "But try anyway. It will still be fun." There is something so touchingly off-beat about every Luna, Harry decides. He kisses her because it seems like fun. It is just a peck on the lips, but Luna seems agog. He gets between her legs simply because it will mean less bother later. He feels her lift her hips in anticipation. According to Dumbledore they've been shagging, more or less constantly, for three years now, yet, on his third night from virgin, Harry feels like he is the teacher. He can't imagine, and then he can. He remembers Ron's demonstration. He remembers trying to re-create it with Ginny. They've been practicing exactly the wrong way to go about it for three years. He thought the idea silly when Dumbledore explained it. Now he sees how useless it is, he's just bemused. "Not just yet," Harry says. "I'm just getting comfortable." He wonders that no one has commented on his state. He's little more than flaccid although he feels that state changing. He's personally more interested in whether he should kiss Luna, but he thinks it might matter more to Luna than she's said. He lets himself wonder what it might have been like if Luna had come up and clung to him when he arrived. She's much more relaxed than Hermione and seemingly more open to experimentation. She's shaking her bum happily under him as she watches him. He decides there's no reason not to kiss her. Up so close, he can't see her, but he can identify it's Luna by something in her manner. There's no mistaking even the way she uses her tongue. It is distracted and curious and so like her. Harry finds himself kissing her in the same way, adopting her lazy and toying manner. He nearly forgets his purpose. His erection bumping into her reminds him. He lifts up and her hips come up again. As much to tease as because he's not ready, Harry runs his hands over her chest. Enough delay, he goes to his elbows and probes to enter Luna. He feels a hand. It can only be Hermione, guiding him to the proper entrance. How convenient, he thinks, along with relief that Hermione is so approving. Then he feels Luna, warm and moist around him. The biggest difference is that he sees Luna when he looks down. Her vagina is not shaped differently or at an odd angle. It seems an odd thought to have, but Harry isn't directing his thoughts. He's moving his penis in and out of a vagina. He's not so jaded that it doesn't interest him, rather, he's past the stunned wonder and is curious. It seems, in contrast to life, it is the destination and not the journey that's the point. It may be nice to approach from different angles, for variety's sake, but Harry thinks the goal is the point. It seems so for all the difference he can feel between sliding in and out of Luna's vagina or Hermione's. He finds Luna moves with more a wiggle than the up and down of Hermione when he makes her move and that is a difference, but he's less aware and less caring by that point. The goal's in sight and Harry is stroking for it. It seems Luna is inclined to come along. Her hands wave without reaching for him and Harry notes it without caring. He's almost there and there's nothing much beyond that he cares about. "Oh my!" Luna exclaims, "Oh! This is...!" Harry doesn't care what it is. Luna is flopping like a fish in slow motion and he's feeling that great thing gathering in his groin. He lets it burst from him in waves- possibly stealing the idea from Luna's motion. He jabs into her and then jerks back to jab again. It's perhaps a dozen jabs followed by the jerk and immediate return. Harry feels an all over thrill like a chill as he jabs. Perhaps he is refining his appreciation. Perhaps it's different every time. Harry muses on this absently. The main thing is it's always good. "He loves me all right," Luna tells Hermione. "I could tell," Hermione says. "Isn't it marvelous?" That's enough to break into Harry's inner dialogue about orgasm. It doesn't fit with what he's seen in his world. Then the thoughts drift together. It just means he made Luna climax. Now, just is faint praise for that. Harry's heard complaints about other boys. He knows it's like a gold star and is justly proud. But it is strange to call it love. He is glad, however, that there's no emnity over it. That, he guesses, come from his freedom to shag whoever he wants. That might be a nice feature, but he hardly sees assigned shagging coming into fashion in his own world. He's not so sure about the way Luna turns to Hermione as soon as he climbs off her. There was all that mutual fondling before but now they're kissing and they're serious. It's interesting, but Harry doesn't see where it fits. Surely, it is not the purpose of this sex education to teach that. Of course, in the freedom, it might not be forbidden either. He can't see exactly what Luna and Hermione are doing to each other, but there's a lot of squirming. They are ignoring him completely. He could go sleep on another of the beds for all they'd notice. He isn't going to. Whatever they're doing is interesting enough to watch. He still hasn't had enough of naked women and there are two in front of him. "You two love each other now?" he asks cynically as they lay gasping. "Oh yes, lots," Luna says. "So all you girls love each other, I take it?" he asks. "You can't live without love and it would be silly to wait for a boy to love you," Luna says. Harry is shaken by how much sense that makes to him without even making the substitution he's guessed. He wonders why all girls everywhere do wait for slow to suss it out boys and not just go off together. There is something he's missing, he supposes. In his case- here, Hermione loves him back. He thinks that might be a reason. Girls are silly too, setting their heart on a boy even if they know it will be a long wait. "Isn't Harry going to love you now?" Luna asks. It is a command performance, but one that seems almost normal by the standards set previously. Harry finds it is easy to ignore Luna watching as he looks into Hermione's eyes and not disturbing when he notices she is there. He doesn't feel Luna is intruding. In some strange way it's like she's watching over them like Neville's told her to. Anyway, Hermione claims his attention, needs his attention and he gives it to her while they shag. "Now, would you say your Dumbledore is much like me?" Dumbledore is asking questions in this 'detention'. "No more different than this place to the place I'm used to," Harry answers, "More alike than different." "And is he wise?" Dumbledore asks. "He's the most brilliant wizard there is," Harry says loyally, and then looks Dumbledore straight in the eye, "But he's modest, not brilliant like you and not letting on." Dumbledore smiles mysteriously. Harry wonders if he's impressed he was spotted or irritated Harry figured it out. "Then I think we can restore our worlds to the way they should be in one more night," Dumbledore says. "My information says it will be the most auspicious time and we must trust your Dumbledore has discovered it as well." One more night- Harry doesn't like the sound of it on principle, not because he's ever heard of Phil Collins. It seems very dodgy to trust that two people in two different worlds will hit on the same idea without even knowing each other. Moreover, he's growing fond of this Hermione and fears to think how the other Harry might treat her on his return. She's noticed the change. She said it to Luna. It's hard for him to think how she might be disappointed when her real Harry returns. Knowing it could be a grievous error, he makes a rash decision. "You can keep a secret, can't you?" he asks Hermione. Of course she says she can. But he must impress on her the importance. "You can't tell because you think it's a lie," he says. "It is very important and Dumbledore said not to tell, but I feel I have to tell you." "If Dumbledore said..." she begins. "He said it must be a secret. He said not to tell, but if you don't, it will be all right," Harry tries his twisted reason. Hermione is now scared. She is looking around expecting to see spies peering around every corner. "I might be different after tomorrow," Harry starts slowly. "You said I changed after the Quidditch match? I'll change back." "Why? What did I do?" Hermione is crushed. "That's why I need to tell you the secret," Harry says. "It's not your fault and I'm sorry. But... Well, look" "What did you do to yourself?" Hermione says upon seeing the scar. "That's... That's so stupid! You're not Neville!" "No- and I'm not your Harry. That's the secret. The scar is real. I've had it since I was a baby," Hermione is frowning at him. "I said you'd think it was a lie," Harry reminds her. "Listen- don't believe me. Just remember what I said. And don't tell anyone. That's important. Dumbledore will be very angry if you do." As suspected, the name of Dumbledore makes her take a second look at him. "Hermione, please?" he pleads, "I'm saying this so when it's different you won't think it's your fault. I really do like you but I don't know about the Harry from here. I just don't want you being hurt. I feel like I'm abandoning you, but I have to. I just want you to know." "I think it's a big lie!" Hermione pouts. "All right- but remember it and don't tell," Harry emphasizes again. "You'll see and then you'll understand. And I do love you." "All right- then what about this Hermione you're going to?" Hermione asks. Harry laughs. "She's as brilliant as you, but we're friends, best friends but like brother and sister. It's Ginny I fancy." Hermione gives him a grudging grimace and says, "It would be like her to clamp onto the Chosen One." Seeing there's a glimmer of hope she's listening to him, Harry decides not to correct her estimation. It was hard enough for him to believe even when he came down into the middle of it. "So you're just leaving?" she pouts. "That's part of the secret you don't need to know," Harry says. "But you won't notice. That's why I have to tell you. It will seem like nothing happened, but I will be the other Harry, your Harry again. I need you to know why and that I didn't just change." "You like her better!" Hermione pouts. "No." Harry says firmly then looks straight into her eyes. "My parents are dead. Killed by Voldemort. Don't you think I'd like to have them back, to know them? But they aren't mine. I love you too, but you aren't mine either. I'd like to stay, but it isn't right. Things should be set right. But I wanted you to know so you'd understand." "Understand? You're mad. That I understand! You want me to understand?" Hermione finally explodes. As usual, crisis brings Harry a cool head. He laughs. "You will," he says confidently. "You're Hermione. You can work it out. You're too clever not to." She is distracted for an instant and Harry kisses her. She doesn't have an argument for that. She quickly thaws and then melts. Soon they are making love. There's no other words. Harry tries to put years of caring into it. He feels sad to see the potential- the Hermione he knows she could be- trampled into the one in his arms. He can't right it, but he does what he can to comfort her. Neville has been sent on some important-sounding spurious watch when Harry and Dumbledore sneak from the castle. They stop just outside the gates. "Nothing to it really," Dumbledore says bracingly, "I'm no more than the time-keeper. Just pick a spot, any place, say the Hog's Head and Apparate on my count. If your Dumbledore is as clever as you say and I am as clever as you suspect, you will return. If not, walk back from the Hog's Head and we will try to find another way." It sounds so simple Harry thinks this Dumbledore must minimalize danger as much as the Dumbledore he knows emphasizes it. He is very nervous as Dumbledore counts down- five, four, three, two, one- go! He feels himself turn. He comes out of the suffocating black pipe stumbling toward the Hog's Head. Dumbledore is waiting in the doorway. "How did you know?" Harry gasps. "Know? Know what?" Dumbledore asks opaquely. "That'd I'd come here," Harry says. "Oh, it was far from knowing. It was a guess," he says. "Can I tell Ron and Hermione?" Harry asks next. "I believe you better," Dumbledore smiles. "There was quite a commotion while you were away and we were fortunate to have anyone to return in exchange for you." "Disgusting little pervert! Came right up to me and... Well, I've never had anyone do something so rude!" Hermione is regaling Harry. "Dumbledore said you tried to kill him," Harry offers. "That would be me, mate," Ron says sheepishly. "Wanted to shag Hermione while I watched. Twitchy little bugger sounded like I would punish him for not!" "But you didn't," Harry said, "What stopped you? Good sense?" Hermione snorts. "He didn't have a scar. It was easy enough to pick him out as an imposter." "So you imprisoned him until you sent him home?" Harry asks. "No. Dumbledore," Ron says. "Sat him down and explained some things. He settled down. Should have seen him when he saw Dumbledore though." "Yes, he was terrified. Is the other Dumbledore... scary?" Hermione ventures. "No, but the other me doesn't see him much," Harry explains. "Over there Neville has the scar." There is much quiet as they digest this. Is is Hermione that approaches him in private. She's giving him that haunted look and Harry knows she's worked it out. "Over there, your... your parents are alive... aren't they," she says fearfully. Harry nods. From his robes he pulls out his lone momento. He shows her the letter from his mum. After she reads it, she looks up suspiciously. "Yeah," Harry says to the look. "I didn't want to say it in front of Ron, but I have you to thank for making me a man. Thank you." Her eyes bore into him and she doesn't speak. Harry sees the storm brewing. "Oh come on, Hermione, don't tell me you didn't work it out by the second day," Harry defends himself. "It's all different. Ron is with Lavender. Ginny is with Neville. I guess that leaves you for me." "But you didn't have to..." she drops her voice though they are alone, "sleep with me." "Oh yes I did, but I bet you worked that out too," Harry says. "Besides, you would have been crushed if I didn't." Hermione still wears a disgruntled look which doesn't let up as she thinks. When it turns more worried, Harry knows she's got to the part about how well he knows her, all of her, now. "Your mother says I'm... fragile," Hermione says to break the tension, glancing at the letter. "Wounded, more like it," Harry says. "Brilliant, but they don't stop people from tormenting Muggle-borns. And shagging is like... compulsory." Hermione's look is not as much worried as thoughtful when Harry reminds her how intimately he knows the other her. "I don't think you have many friends," Harry says gently, "And Ron is a berk." "No change there," Hermione smiles, but he can see she is thinking how her life might have gone. "But you stood up for me," Hermione says. "Some things are the same wherever you go," Harry shrugs. It is not the time to explain about the other Harry's choice. He thinks his other self isn't such a bad sort after all. ----------- ---------- END NOTE: Harry's fear that Neville has a snowball's chance in Hell against Voldemort in the other place is well-founded but innaccurate. Neville is no match for Voldemort one on one, but as Harry will learn, a little twist up the sleeve works wonders. In that other place, it is the very Pure Blood prejudice that permeates the world that is the twist. Neville's supreme Pure Blood confidence causes Voldemort to falter in the end, to blink, but not desist. It is Bellatrix, on learning of his Muggle father, that turns on him and in hysterical rage at his deception-- oops! kills him. Now we've had the window open too long, and you'll have to work out for yourself what Horcruxs and parts of Voldemort's soul in Neville might mean over there. Hermione? She believes the other Harry, our Harry now. She gave that scar a good look and when Harry, her Harry showed up without it, had to conclude the wild story was true. You can gain a scar in an instant, but losing one takes more than one night. As far as being in love- two Harrys are better than one. Hermione is still in there somewhere. She takes what our Harry taught her and applies it to hers. She rides him like the unassuming little beast he is while reaping the benefits. This is fortunate since our Harry has set some high expectations for the other one in that area. ###