Keywords: M/F, F/F, oral
Author: W R Jenkins
Title: HP: Hermione does Everyone

  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: Hermione Does Everyone - (Hermione.txt)- Not
concurrent with anything but the canon and straying wildly in service
of our heroes's raging libidos. Tired of crowbarring sex into the
actual text, we now take a bold look at what could have happened from
Book 4 through Book 7 and beyond.

	
"I'm Indian, you know!" Parvati is raging after Harry, who is leaving
her at the Yule Ball. "I know the whole Kama Sutra! By heart! You don't
know what you're missing!"

She has that right. Harry doesn't even suspect what he's missing. He is
barely hearing Parvati in his obsessive quest down yet another blind
alley in following Karkaroff.

Fortunately, perhaps, Harry has picked his friends well. There are
probably few others in Hogwarts as gormless as Ron and as unaware of
what he might taste if he was to stay with Padma. Granting of course
that he pay her more attention than he has done.

But as they forsake the chance and wander witlessly, others are not as
dense. Fred is up to his balls in Angelina as they shag energetically
and George, who is not as familiar to Alicia Spinnet as Fred is to
Angelina, is getting wanked as they watch the other two.

Even Neville is discovering wonders he's only dreamt at the hands of
the red-haired spitfire he escorted to the Ball. It's only polite to
thank him, Ginny thinks as she strokes Neville's surprisingly stout
member. There is a bit of pity for poor Neville mixed in the gratitude,
but Ginny is not thinking of Harry as she aims Neville's penis away 
from her gown as he spends.

"Well, erm, thank you for a lovely evening, Viktor," Hermione is more
flustered than is usual for her.

"I had a lovely time as vell," Krum replies. "I vish to know if you
vill see me again. You are a very beautiful voman."

Up close, too close in fact, Krum is quite overpowering. Hermione's
heart is pounding against her ribs so hard she fears it is making her
dress quiver. She is quite flattered he thinks of her as a woman. She
is flattered because Krum is more than a famous Quidditch player. He is
quite the serious student and quite taken with her.

He is also older and that is both flattering and cause for concern. She
is unsure what he expects from her and even more disturbingly unsure if
she won't grant it.

"We could meet in the library, I'm sure," Hermione says nervously.

"Vhatever you vish," Krum says quietly, "I haff no intention to be less
than honorable."

Perhaps distracted by her own relief at his words, and even a bit 
giddy at his seriousness, Hermione doesn't notice Krum bend down until
his mouth is on hers. She is at a loss as his lips press against hers.
She is despairing what to do when she feels his tongue cautiously
explore her lips.

Oh bother! she yields and lets her lips part to admit the inquisitive
tongue. So this is kissing, she finds herself discovering as Krum's
tongue searches out her own. This is quite nice. I suppose it is better
with someone experienced.

It is bothersomely more than nice. Hermione feels the heat rise as
their tongues tangle. Her heart is beating frantically again, but this
time it is more a needy fluttering. She feels it in her loins, which is
all she's willing to admit of the more specific itch she feels.

All of her, most of her, wants more when they part to look into each
other's eyes. She knows she is aroused beyond sense and fears she will
lose control if she is not vigilant. She feels a bit dizzy.

"Oh, Viktor, we can't," she breathes.

"Vot?" Viktor seems honestly confused.

"I'm just too young and it wouldn't be right, not so suddenly. We
hardly know each other and I really think we should before we..."
Hermione begins to babble egregiously.

Viktor is confused. He kissed Hermione. It was very nice for him too.
She vos very responsiff, he might say. He is even a little aroused, but
he does not mean for her to know that.

"But there is something, there must be something I can do," Hermione
continues her mad soliloquy to the bemused Krum.

He finds himself at the mercy of her restless energy as Hermione kisses
him on the cheek and then squats down. Her gown, she quickly notices,
pools around her, but is not crushed to the staining grass. Her heels
sink into the soft ground as she single-mindedly opens his trousers.

It is a penis. It looks different than she imagined from what brief
peeks she has managed. It is bigger than she thought and stiffening
in what she knows is erection, readyness for intercourse. She
doesn't dare examine it because she feels the feeling between her legs
again.

"Herm-own-ninny!" Krum gasps. "You..."

Prompted by her own nerves as well as Viktor's outburst, Hermione
kisses his penis on the tip and then begins to wank him. Oh bother! she
thinks again and pulls at the shoulders of her gown before she can
think what she's doing.

"They're not very big," she says as she looks up at Krum, her gown now
hanging, her emerging breasts exposed.

"..." Krum makes a gulping noise in lieu of words.

It is over rather quickly, given the impetus of shock and the thrill
of the unexpected for Krum. Hermione pulls her face back when he
ejaculates, watching the process with fascination as her hand
encourages it to continue.

"Herm-own-ninny!" Krum gasps with an edge of pain in his voice,
"Please, stop! You are hurtink me!"

Hermione releases his penis immediately with horror. "I'm sorry, I
didn't mean to..." Hermione gasps as she feels Viktor lift her by
the hand that was so recently wanking him.

"I did not mean for you to, but it vos... vonderful," Viktor says as
he lifts her to her feet.

Upright again, Hermione is aware of her shocking dishabille. The top
of her gown is hanging and her breasts are bare. More than that, her
breasts are spattered with Krum's semen and she is sure there is some
she felt hit her as she pulled back, dripping from her chin.   

Hermione feels they might be somehow connected beyond the usual, as
Krum lifts the straps of her gown for her to slip her arms through and
restores it, more or less, to its original position. He wipes her chin
with a finger and then leans to kiss her, only a peck this time.

"So... the library?" Hermione asks nervously.


"You should learn to aim it away," Ginny says at the sight, not taking
in the entirety of what she is seeing as Hermione comes into the
girl's dormitory.

Krum! Hermione!!! Sperm!!!!! It is nearly too much for Ginny's fragile
little mind- except Ginny is more ravenous than fragile. 

"You can't say a word!" Hermione cautions. "Not to anyone- ever!!"

"No, Hermione, I promise," Ginny says solemnly, and then, "As long as
you tell me everything- and don't spare details."

You've always known Ginny and Hermione were close. And now you know one
of the reasons why.


Hermione notes with great interest and questionable satisfaction that
her outrageous, panicked, fevered outburst has set a very polite tone
for the rest of her dealings with Krum. Oh yes, Ron, they snog, and
very happily, thank you. Hermione finds that her native talent serves
her well in this endeavor, although she remains content she has an
experienced man as her sounding board.

And most fittingly, she is pleased to report, it seems to hold true
that it's as much who you kiss as how you kiss.

Harry is getting little more than an erection when Fleur fawns over
him and kisses him in gratitude for saving Gabrielle, and Ron is 
getting nothing but a flushed face. Harry does, conincidentally,
discover a corollary to Hermione's who you kiss theorum. As proved with
Fleur, it matters how you feel about who you kiss more than how they
feel about you.

So Neville's been wanked, Fred and George, as usual, are hip-deep in
pussy, Hermione's been spunked upon and Harry's been kissed. That wraps
it up unless we count certain overtones that might be attributed to
Voldemort as Harry is tied to a gravestone.

It may be, if we can so call it, Hermione's sexual awakening that leads 
to Harry's next flutter as she kisses him on the cheek upon parting.
That's all for the dear boy until Tonks asks him about his buttocks
just before the next year.

Of course he isn't getting it into Tonks. That's for dreaming. We know
she's got the wide-on for Lupin anyway and that kind of bestial sex is
very peripheral to our heroes. But hmmm, werewolf, eh? Just a thought.

The sojurn at 12 Grimmauld Place supplies multitudinuos opportunities
if Harry wasn't such a wanker and Ron such a prat. The glimmer of
light, oh don't you know it!, comes upon meeting Luna Lovegood on the
Hogwarts Express. Lovegood: how can you miss that? Might as well be
Luna Shagswell- or Pussy Galore.

She's coming on to Ron- hard, for Luna, but he is as usual clueless.
She likes Harry all right, but thinks Hermione has dibs. This little
confusion will pay dividends in future, but for now-- Umbridge on the
horizon, what's less sexy than that?

Well, there's Cho, but Harry doesn't see it that way. For some
unfathomnable reason he likes her. Let me spoil it for you. He never
even gets her shirt off. A little tit over clothes under the mistletoe
and that's it. 

Shit! You're supposed to- at least originally, fuck under the
mistletoe. Yule log alight, orgy in the house! That's the tradition
and Harry's not even getting bare tit! But enough about Cho.

It all heats up as the D.A. swings into force. Hot little Ginny is all
scrunched in the starting blocks, but there's Cho. We know about her.
Ron is clueless and worse, pissing Hermione off at every turn and
there's no uptake until after nasty Marietta tosses everyone under the
bus.

Hey! I hear you. What about veering wildly from canon? All right, but 
not to violence on the truth of our characters. And it's about to get
good.

In the aftermath, the veterans of the assault on Stalag 9, er, the
Ministry, find they see each other in a different light. In Ginny's
case it is the amber light streaming through a row of butterbeer
bottles on Luna's windowsill.

They're in the same year, after all, and share a strange connection 
not unlike Harry and Ron. Only Harry is not about to lay naked on Ron's
bed and stroke his back as Ginny is for Luna.

"You do know most people find this abberant, don't you," Ginny asks
Luna lazily.

"Most people have very closed minds. Take you brother for example..."
Luna says.

"Oh no, don't take Ron for an example. He's an example of something but
I'm not sure anyone knows of what," Ginny interrupts. "I just meant
to ask if you're uncomfortable or anything."

"Do I look it?" Luna rolls over, looking genuinely interested. "I don't
think I am, but what can you see?"

"I see an interesting woman," Ginny says warmly. "One whom I'm about to
kiss and then..."

And then bear down onto her bed again to renew exploring her. Ginny
looks up to see the always slighty disturbing sight of Luna's slighty
protruding eyes staring into her own as they kiss. Ginny lets her lids
drop as her hand slides over Luna's chest and down to her belly.

Lest you read more into this than exists, Ginny is not seeking Luna's
approval or favor. She does not feel sex is the only way to bind
another to herself. She is not the victim of abuse at home.

She is kissing Luna, touching her, because it pleases Luna and that
Luna touching her back pleases her. They like each other. Sex feels
good. Luna is one of the few that is encumbered by none of the other
nonsense stifling the urge.

Ginny has heard the nonsense, but has the good sense to ignore it. It
is easy since she has adequate evidence her mother is a bit daft about
most things. She has it from the rest of her family that setting your
own mark and following it is preferable to heeding the contentious
voices of general opinion. 

She's made up her own mind and it feels good to touch and be touched.
That Ron would be scandalized completes the trifecta of excellent 
reasons. No one she knows can be more consistently wrong than her
brother.

Luna is warming herself, eyes still open, and her hands stroke most
evocatively with the lightness of sunlight over Ginny's back. Ginny
has found Luna can do more with less than she could ever imagine.
Even hardly touching, Luna can rouse such desire Ginny can barely
stand the pleasure of it.

Luna's own acceptance has as much to do with being a blank slate, open
to input, observant rather than judging. It does feel good and in
addition serves a need for closeness which Luna desires and needs.

She is also highly analytical and her mind grinds dry on unsupported
statements that it is wrong because... This and the aphorism, garbage
in, garbage out, accounts for much of Luna's attitude. 

There's the matter of her drinking, but that's hardly something to
speak of right now. If you want a head start- consider Luna wears a
necklace of butterbeer corks.

None of that matters as Ginny moves more directly over Luna, trapping
her own hand against Luna's vulva and manipulates the moist flesh.
Luna's fingers are firmer now, yet more acupuncture-like than gripping
as they pick at points on Ginny's back. Luna's knee comes up, pressing
her thigh between Ginny's legs and pressing with the surges Ginny is
causing with her fingers.

Yet is Ginny's turn to arouse and Luna is only responding. She will,
in due course, roll atop Ginny and put that thigh or perhaps her own
vulva to good use returning the passion.

It is another reason Luna makes such a good friend. She is unfettered,
if untrained and finds the most interesting variations as they make
love in her room.

Ginny would turn this light on Neville, but it is kinder not to. Since
the single incident after the Yule ball, he seems terrified of her. Not
to meet in the hall, but that they might have a moment of privacy.

Ginny is not sure what to make of it, but she yields to Neville's 
comfort and isn't interested in throwing herself at him. Neville is
such a proper boy anyway. She knows he will not understand how to take
her attention in the spirit with which it is offered.

Now Hermione- Ginny can tell that either Hermione will throw herself
into a sharing with great gusto or be so disturbed as to taint their
relationship forever. She can't quite tell. One day it seems Hermione
winks at her, the next she is sure Hermione would recoil.


For Hermione herself, it takes shedding the baleful influence of Ron
to get to the heart of it. That is a bit harsh, but Hermione knows
what healing she might offer will not occur in the presence of Ron's
interruptions.

It must be her and Harry alone, to access his feelings without Ron's
ignorance of emotion bursting upon them. Harry is a sensitive lad, if
guarded, and Hermione knows that guard is mostly to prevent his 
sadness from infecting others.

"I'm not here to talk about Sirius," Hermione says when she has Harry
cornered and puts her arm around him, "But I'll listen if you want to
talk about him."

"No, Hermione, I can't," Harry fights the memories.

"Then we won't," Hermione says and puts her head on his shoulder.

Her other hand lays on Harry's leg and after a moment he pats it.

"It was just when I was getting to know him..." Harry says with a
ragged breath and Hermione lifts her hand to lock her fingers with
Harry's. Her hand sweeps his back comfortingly.

She doesn't add anything. Whatever she might say is meaningless. It is
Harry that has a burden to work out. They sit for a while, holding
hands and her stroking his back.

"It's just... It's just it's always taken away," Harry says quietly,
but with intensity. "Everything. Everyone."

Hermione lifts her head. Her hand stops on his shoulder. She squeezes
his other hand.

"I won't be," she says firmly. "I'll stay with you. Whatever I have to
do, I'll stay."

Harry turns to look at her fierce expression turned on him. His look
is quizzical, a bit pleading, but neither of them seem to hear the
impossibility of such a pledge.

"Hermione..." Harry starts.

Hermione has no idea what he's about to say. It might be thanks. It
might be a request. It might be telling her to leave, but she is
overcome by an impulse.

It was nowhere in her plans or wildest imagination, but as she looks
into Harry's sad green eyes she knows she must. She doesn't know if
it is for herself or Harry, but she must.

She leans forward and kisses him- on the mouth. She turns him with
the hand on his shoulder. In a reaction so familiar Hermione fears 
she'll laugh, she feels Harry hesitate until she parts her lips and
licks his.

Unlike her reaction with Viktor, Harry gives in totally when he
surrenders. His mouth opens and suddenly they are in the middle of
the kiss, both tongues attempting to rule the other's. She feels need
in his kiss and tries to answer with solace.

"Hermione, we shouldn't," Harry says.

"But we're going to," Hermione says firmly and pulls their hands from
his leg to place his firmly on her breast. "We must. I don't know why,
but I know we must."

There is nothing in Harry's eyes to show that he realizes as he moves
his hand on her breast. It is almost as if it is a separate entitiy
going about the business of making her nipple tighten and strengthening
her resolve.

This time as they kiss, her hand is busy undoing buttons to open his
shirt. As if prompted by some outside voice, for she has no idea
of how to proceed, Hermione pushes Harry back to lie on his bed and
hurridly undoes her blouse. She throws it off and her bra in quick
succesion before joining Harry again.

She kisses him again as he looks up, distant, but not trying to escape.
He is still wearing an undershirt, but she feels the warmth of his
chest through it and is confident he can feel her warmth along with the
prick of her erect nipples.

"Hermione, it's... " Harry begins again.

As if he can break the spell, Hermione puts her finger across his lips.
"Shhh," she hisses, "It's right. I know it."

He takes her hand and kisses her finger. "I don't know," he says without
emotion, almost emptily.

It is the last protest. When she leans for a brief kiss his hand rests
on her back. He lays passive as she she makes short work of his pants 
and her own. This is hardly going to do, she thinks as she has to
lift him to sit him up and remove the rest.

But it is all right. Harry still does not take the lead. She is leading
him into unknown territory. Perhaps he does not suspect she is as
lost as he is. But he kisses her willingly and follows as she draws
him down atop her.

There he is familiar enough, or has absorbed enough from her previous
nudges. He kisses her neck without being directed and explores her
breasts with as much wonder as skill. He is not unwilling, Hermione
feels as his erection presses her thigh.

She encourages his leg between her own. He is now pressing on her mons
and she moves her hips to rub against it. There is little more
necessary, she finds. She wants Harry and is ready to give herself to
him.

"Let me move up a bit," she says softly, careful not to disturb the
dream it seems to be.

She budges until she is fully on his bed and he follows, but she
catches him to make him lie between her legs. She feels his penis
press her labia. Suddenly she feels she must have him now.

"Harry, please," she whispers.

Doubt crosses Harry's face as he rises on his knees. For the first 
time since she felt the impulse, Hermione questions what she is doing.
She looks into Harry's eyes. There is concern there, not sadness. If
for only a moment, she is giving him solace.

"Go on," she urges, "We have to now."

She doesn't know if Harry feels it. He seems so intent on doing well.
She tries to hide the jerk as he tears it, the gasp in a sigh, but
Harry is so alert, she doesn't doubt he could tell.

She is grateful he doesn't pause to question. He continues the careful
entry until they lay together and then bends to kiss her again.

Say again who you're helping, echoes mockingly in Hermione's head as
she catalogues every sensation of Harry deep inside her. She reaches
to touch his buttock and he understands the signal to move inside her.

Her knees come up to open for him. Her hands trace the lines of his
back as he strokes. They look in each other's eyes without speaking
as if that might disturb the reality of their joining.

He moves stronger, with more assurance or perhaps need. Hermione finds
her hips follow him as if on their own. She pulls at him to reassure
him. She pulls at him because she wants him just this way.

"Hermione! I'm going to..." Harry gasps.

"It's all right, you won't harm me," Hermione says without knowing if
it's the truth or a lie.

She might be horrified by this carelessness at any other time, but at
the moment she is only desperate to keep Harry moving. Oh yes, there
would be pleasure interrupted, but it is for Harry, so she can be
what Harry needs, that she ignores this little detail.

It is so much like a groan of sorrow, of grieving that Hermione is
sharply reminded of her purpose as Harry ejaculates inside her. Get
it out, let it go, occurs oddly to her as Harry shivers atop her.

Hermione fears she has listened to an evil urge as she sees Harry's
face in the aftermath. He seems empty. She lays quiet under him, just
regarding his reaction for what seems like an eternity.

Slowly some life returns to Harry's eyes and Hermione sees it is only
confusion that took Harry. She can sympathize. She feels confused and
a bit foolish to have thrown herself at him this way.

"It doesn't change things. For us, I mean," Hermione searches for words
to reassure Harry. "I just felt... Something told me that you needed
it."

"I don't know, Hermione," Harry starts, "I don't even know what I felt.
It's just..."

She pulls him down. She knows how boys are and Harry is still a boy
even if he's born up under a man's burden so often. She holds him 
close so he doesn't have to let her see him cry.


Amortentia- ahhh- the smell of true love in a bottle. It is not even as
deep as their heart of hearts that the scent conjures pictures in
Slughorn's class.

Harry longs for Ginny Weasley. Ron and Hermione long for each other.
Lavender Brown longs for Fabio, or a fascimile. Pansy Parkinson longs
for a white-blonde wizard that looks like Draco, but is nicer.

They know. They spend time quibbling, but they know. The more
interesting thing is that everyone else knows as well.

It's not that hard, kids. You'll find being crushed, humiliated and
having all that you hope for and worked for torn away or turned to
ash is a weekly occurence when you grow up. You might as well face it
and buck up. Really, just say it for once. It can't go as wrong as your
mis-guided attempts to 'ease' into it or wait for them to notice or
arrange an 'accidental' event like in a fairy story. That doesn't even
work for fairies.

Might as well howl at the moon. They're kids. Despite any well-meaning
advice, they're going to fuck up. And, seriously, that may be as should
be. Perhaps even they know, this time in their heart of hearts, that
they're fucking up. Maybe it's just an excuse to visit a few other
points of interest before seeking their final destination.


"So -- Whatcha' got going on during Quidditch practice?" Harry asks
Hermione in the hall after team try-outs.

"Whatever do you mean?" Hermione is truely mystified.

"There must be a reason you want Ron occupied for several hours," Harry
says. "Otherwise you'd have left it and maybe McLaggen would be keeper."

Hermione blushes a bit at that. Harry is sharp, if not as clever, and
she might have realized he'd suss it out if she'd not acted on impulse.
"I don't know what you mean, and I'm unsure of what you're trying to
imply," Hermione says with a giggle. "I admit nothing and I will thank
you to keep your suspicions to yourself."

"I'm afraid that will cost you," Harry says as he casually slips his
hand into Hermione's robe and gropes to penetrate her blouse so he
can place his hand firmly over her breast. He gives the pert mound a
friendly squeeze and then rubs his hand in a small circle until he
feels the point of a nipple press into his palm.

"Cheap enough," Hermione says encouragingly, keeping very still in case
Harry wishes to continue his explorations.

"You know how it is," Harry says as he feels Hermione react as he takes
his hand away. "Black-mailers always want more."

It is an uneasy attraction between them, at once so obvious and so
scandalous. He loves her as a sister and it is incest, but incest is
exciting, and in their case only a convenient fiction.

Perhaps if the physical had not erupted at so dark and painful a time,
it would be different, but since it took Sirius's death to prompt it,
if there was no dark and pain it was not likely to occur at all.

Hermione's heart ached with the pain in Harry's. Her heart should have
left her chest to beat beside Harry's with soothing sympathy, but all
she could manage in real life was to press her body to his.

Likewise, it was only Harry's grief and aching need for any comfort
that made him cling back. It was doomed to carry the reminder, but
neither of them regret it. At the time it was momentary solace. Harry
understands Hermione's intent and it was relief to lose himself in her,
with her.

Hermione carries no shame that she gave herself to him. It seems an
over-valued trifle compared with what she would be willing to give to
see him safe, to see him happy. Her regret, their regret, is that it
could not be in happy times, that finally knowing each other so deeply
as to be one flesh could not have come unencumbered with the memory
and the depressed dampening of the joy of the communion.

That hangs over them, but does not completely conquer the playful
exchange that persists from being lovers. Hermione sees it is a fool's
game, but she doesn't call it to mind when Harry's hands are on her.
Harry feels it is out of bounds, but can't resist putting just a toe
over the line. And if he stumbles, well, time enough to think about it
then.

"Well, you better be off- until I require you again," Harry says as if
there is something in his throat.

Ron is his mate. Bad enough Harry harbors salacious intentions for his
sister; that at least is something they might work out. There is really
no defense for Harry carrying on with Ron's intended, for Harry knows
the attraction between Ron and Hermione even if he will not admit it
until forced.

Interestingly, this loyalty did not occur to Harry until after he
withdrew his hand from Hermione's blouse.


Ah, yes, Demelza. Harry is no butterfly. He doesn't flit from flower
to flower pollenating as he may. There was no favoritism in Demelza's
case whatever gratitude she feels. She simple flew the best and aimed
the best, but for Ginny. Her willingness to pay a bribe Harry never
accepted would usually be a bother.

"There's just never been a game like Quidditch, has there, Harry!"
Demelza is enthusing on their favorite sport. "I mean, Muggles have no
concept. Whizzing along, avoiding nasty Bludgers, it's so..."

Demelza blushes and Harry knows she was about to admit how arousing
it is for her. He's been flying with girls for years. Katie Bell and
before, Alicia and Angelina, all tended to giggle suspiciously as they
sat their brooms. He worked it out, once he became aware girls were
capable of such feelings. The smooth, well-worn handle of a broom 
pressing right there where it did a witch the most good- it was the
opposite of the sometimes treacherous proximity of a hard stick to a
wizard's testicles.

Demelza's hand is also opposite of a hard stick, but no less
treacherous to Harry as it moves toward his testicles. He feels a bit
exposed sitting at a table in the Gryffindor common room, but that is
more guilty knowledge than fact. In fact, the table shields Demelza's
rummaging about in his robes and no one, including a smattering
of girls who are watching grumpily, can more than suspect, jealously,
what is going on.

"That's what's so great about flying for Gryffidor," Harry tries to 
keep his voice bracing despite the tightening in his throat as Demelza
reaches her goal and takes his scrotum in her hand.

"What's so great is flying with our Captain," Demelza leans in to
whisper in Harry's ear as she gives his sac a friendly squeeze.

"Ahhh- " Harry responds to the arousing but troublesome pressure and
says, "I'm going to Hogsmeade in a moment. ... Would you like to tag
along?"

He adds the last to placate her, not wishing to feel the result of
her anger. He would just as soon meet Ron and Hermione as planned and
drag along as a third wheel. The idea of showing up with Demelza as
some sort of gesture in the direction of Ginny and Dean, he discards
as a bad job, knowing it is petty and not being the sort for that kind
of thing anyway.

Anyway, it wouldn't be good for the harmony of the team to set Demelza
and Ginny at odds.

"I could go part way," Demelza coos.

Part way is more than enough for Harry. She is lying in any case.
Demelza is more than willing to go all the way, as she demonstrates
when she pulls Harry into a deserted classroom.

"Demelza! I told you. You flew better than the rest. You don't have to
thank me," Harry protests as she pushes him against a desk and attacks
his pants.

"You think that's the reason?" Demelza asks, in proud possession of
Harry's proudest possession, his pants around his ankles and he half
sitting on a desk. "You're a hunk, Harry. I was so wet just sitting
near you. I'm simply all aflutter right now."

Harry's mouth works, but his throat is swallowing so fast he can't 
make words come. Demelza now has his penis in her mouth and he is
finding resistance futile. This is too much like a letter to 'Top of
the Tower' magazine.

He isn't forcing her, he considers. He's done everything short of
violence he can to deflect her. ...and it does feel good. Harry is
only momentarily distracted as his member comes erect in Demelza's
mouth.

Momentarily, he will momentarily try to pull away- momentarily. The
moment for that retreats farther as Demelza's mouth moves up and 
down the stiff shaft, pausing to pull at the head in its travels.
Harry is finding it hard to think what the moment might look like as
his hands grip the edge of the desk and his ears burn.

He hardly thinks it is the moment for it when Demelza releases his
erection and throws off her robe. She stands up, straddling his legs,
naked but for the shoes and socks that concealed her condition under
her robes until now.

"I mean for you to have me, Harry," she says. "I want for you to."

Harry can see it would be quite nice. Demelza is a bit stocky, more
than Ginny and slightly more than Hermione, but that does not affect
her appeal. If her waist is a bit wide, her hips dwarf it in a
gratifying way. So too do her breasts, which are as large as Hermione's
if set differently on her wider chest.

There is no question about her dark eye and rich, blood-red lips being
exciting. She is someone's fantasy, no doubt. She could be Harry's, but
for his pre-existing longing for red hair and Ginny under it. There is
also something in her tone, her manner, that alerts Harry's wits.

"Virgin?" he asks quietly. Demelza nods. It is as if she is deflated
by the confession. Perhaps it is that her senses are as sharp as 
Harry's and knows he will not alter her condition.

She does respond to Harry's slight shift in position, leaning back a
bit, as an indication. Without comment or further plea, she goes to
her knees again and covers his penis with her mouth.

What madness make this consolation for not having her? Harry wonders
obliquely, although not in those words, as he abandons all thought of
resisting. It is hardly a consolation prize for him as Demelza applies
herself to his pleasure.

He can't recall why he should fight it. She wants to. That is the
surest thing of all. It is hardly torture for him to allow it. It is-
oh yes! it is quite wonderful to feel her mouth, and her hands as she
cradles him and strokes him and sucks him.

"Don't hold back. Don't spare me," Demelza rips into Harry's growing
need, "Just let it out. I mean for you to."

He is no longer allowing. He wants- needs her to continue. There is
nothing but appreciation for the feel of her lips moving up and 
down his shaft, the suction, and the tickle over his scrotum as she
goes back to her task. Yes, as she's being so nice, it would be rude
to deny her.

Harry feels gallant as his need crests. He mistakes, for the moment at
least, her skill for his accomplishment. He thinks it is his will
rather than her demanding mouth that finally, wonderfully, necessarily,
sends jets of semen into her greedy swallow.

He does fondly regard her for wanting his seed. He feels nothing but
warmth toward Demelza as he ejaculates in her mouth. He is not ignorant
of her role, only mistaken in his part.

"Thank you, Harry," she says after a few rasping breaths.

Glad to help? That jangles arrogantly on Harry's ear. No problem? Too
dismissive. It was an honor? Nearer, but formal.

"I should thank you," Harry manages, and then can't stop. "But you
can't do things like this. I mean, it's okay without it. You're a good
Chaser. I appreciate you and all but..."

He doesn't have to struggle on. Demelza lifts her head where she bowed
it at his first 'but' and smiles weakly. "I understand," she says
sadly, "But you're Harry Potter. Girls can't help but fancy you."

Harry feels oddly unaffected as Demelza stands and draws on her robe.
She's just as naked, just as attractive, but somehow that's changed.
Perhaps it's that she's not trying, Harry considers. He remembers how
Fleur can turn it on and off at will. He begins to think perhaps it
is a talent all girls share in some degree or other.

"Sorry..." Harry tries to soothe her.

"Oh, it's all right," Demelza says, though he still feels her sadness,
"I didn't have much hope."

"But I did suck off Harry Potter," she brightens. "You will remember
me for that, won't you?"

"How could I forget?" Harry says genuinely, "Surprisingly, this is
something that never happens to me."

Demelza laughs and Harry grins in return. He isn't getting it, but it
seems the whole torrent of emotions has passed and Demelza is the same
as ever- perhaps even happier. Unfortunately, Harry doesn't think it is
something he can have Hermione explain to him.


Hermione is having her own troubles. If Ron isn't being surly or
childish, he's staring at other women and ignoring her. Harry realizes,
however bad it sounds, that Ron isn't even aware of what he's doing.

Hermione seems to sense that to some degree, but it doesn't cheer her.
When the tenuous truce between Ron and Hermione breaks over the spat
with Ginny in the hall, she seems ready to chuck it all. Not that Ron,
in imaginary revenge for an imaginary wrong- well, at least something
that wasn't his business and his fault in the first place- doesn't
welcome with his usual self-destructive pouting.

He'll drive her off if she doesn't want him, seems to be Ron's plan.
You read it right. It makes no sense. Unfortunately, Hermione does
want him and Ron's dudgeon not only threatens to ruin what he actually
wants, it hurts Hermione. She is miserable, as little as she is willing
to let that show. 

Harry's no help, though he is a comfort as they both wonder at the
marvel that is the seemingly random process that passes for thought
in Ron. All right, they know how he gets there. They just can't fathom
his unerring ability to jump to the wrong conclusion at every turn.

The lone bright spot for Harry is that Demelza remains steady and seems
to harbor no lingering effects from their meeting. He wishes he could
let go of the encounter between Dean and Ginny as easily.

We all know how the 'Felicitis' ruse with 'King' Weasley goes. We just
move tastefully away before it gets all raunchy. No remaining in the
now deserted classroom to watch Ron Weasley become a man or trailing
after Harry as he seeks out Hermione to comfort her.

As far as Ron goes, it is a bit too pathetic to be interesting. A lot 
of mad confusion- and giggling, as Lavender leads a stunned Ron down
the primrose path to manhood. 

Oh well, right then, is Ron's watchword as Lavender, in desperation,
has to take off her own shirt before Ron cottons on that there might
be more to it than kissing. It proceeds apace and in the same manner
as Lavender makes every move up to setting the stage for the final
plunge.

By then, even Ron suspects what's coming and after some fumbling (it's
lower than that, Ron) sinks his penis into a woman. (Oh, Lavender! I
hope it's good for you!) That, of course, delivered on the entry,
making it more a prediction (false) than might be if asked later.

"Hermione! Wait!" Harry tries to make her pause, but Hermione continues
into Myrtle's bathroom without stopping.

Since it is no ordinary girl's bathroom, Harry feels only a tickle of
guilt as he follows. He does not tread quietly from fear, but so he
can listen for Hermione's sobs.

"Hermione," he warns her before opening the door of the stall she's
taken. "Hermione- I know he's being a berk..."

Hermione looks up from her hands as forlorn as he's seen her since they
were 11. She scowls at him.

"How did you know I didn't come to have a pee?" Hermione challenges.

Harry doesn't dare smile at that. He isn't going to profess that he'd
be interested either. Hermione needs gentle handling and he might joke
to ease her mood, but that's hardly the right subject.

"I just thought- seeing as how Ron being keeper is largely your
responsibility- that I might be owed something for keeping it from
him," Harry says. "I said I'd require more."

Hermione's eye narrow at his attempt. Harry feels a chill that he's
done just the wrong thing. He takes a step back.

"No," Hermione says, "I know what you're trying to do, Harry."

Her eyes are wide and beseeching as she looks up at him. "And it's 
sweet."

If it's sweet, Harry doesn't understand why the tears begin to roll
down her cheeks again. Her lower lip pouts out and, with no warning,
she jumps up at him. Harry retreats, but it only serves to let Hermione
fall on him outside the stall. She wraps her arms about his neck and
sobs on his robes long enough Harry feels obligated to pat her back.

He thinks that a series of gasping sobs signal the end of this crying
jag, but it proves out he is as clueless as ever. Hermione does lift
a red-eyed, tear-stained face to him, but the next thing he knows, her
hand is behind his head, pulling his mouth down to hers.

It is a particularly wet kiss, but Harry does not resist. He thinks
inappropriately of all the things dripping from Hermione's eyes or
running from her nose that might make it so, but he kisses her back
anyway, because he can feel how dearly she wants it.

He can't help but think Ron's a fool as Hermione runs her tongue along
his and retreats for him to chase. He's only kissing her for her own
good and still he can't help feeling the stirring in his pants. Ron
can't have found better.

When they stop, Hermione looks into his eyes. Harry can only wonder
what she hopes to see there as she stares for moments that may be
minutes. He looks back steadily, thinking nothing.

"You said there was something you required?" Hermione says finally, her
eyes smiling at him in an odd picture of bereft happiness.

She pulls his arm down from where it encircled her and puts his hand
on her breast. Harry understands without understanding. He has
theories. He moves the hand in gentle circles to let her know he
understands.

His strongest thought is that Hermione wishes to be reassured that she
is as beautiful as he has always thought. Not just fiercly loyal and
unceasingly eager to help, but desirable as a woman. He has always
thought so, though loyalty and helpfullness seem a better
recommendation to his way of thinking.

He does not, perhaps for the pain, connect Hermione's sense of loss 
with the loss that brought them together before. He doesn't consider
that she might be seeking the solace of another soul, another body
to comfort her in the grief.

"Harry, I mean for you to have me," Hermione says softly and pulls 
him into another kiss.

Contrarily, Harry thinks of those same words being uttered to him
before. Where he was hardly tempted with Demelza, he knows there's
as little chance he will resist Hermione as there was he would accept
Demelza.

"Now what is this?" they hear a sharp voice from behind Hermione. "I
can't have... Oh, hello Harry."

Harry looks into the smiling face of Moaning Myrtle. Her smile quickly
vanishes as she recalls why she came up from the "U" bend in the first
place.

"So you're bringing someone else here to taunt me? Is that it?" Myrtle
starts.

"Hello Myrtle," Hermione turns to greet the ghost.

"Oh it's you," Myrtle stops her rant. "But I thought... Well, I...
I suppose I'll be in the "U" bend if you need me."

"How did you manage that?" Harry asks as Myrtle disappears back into
the toilet from which she came.

"Oh, we talk sometimes," Hermione says mysteriously. "She's just lonely,
mostly. She doesn't mind listening."

Harry has little chance to ponder what Hermione might discuss with a
ghost 50 years dead. Hermione wipes her eyes and then sets about with
her familiar efficiency. It is something different than familiar as
her task is to strip them both and make a nest from their clothes.

"This shouldn't be too uncomfortable," she says as she adds Harry's
trousers to the padding, "Come on, Harry."

It has been a marvel to watch Hermione fold and arrange their clothes,
not to mention stripping them off until they are naked, but Harry has
felt the lull. The excitment he couldn't help from Hermione's kiss has
faded and he feels odd laying down next to her in such a normal state.

"You are so sweet and you don't even know how you are," Hermione seems
to be bemused as she strokes her hand through his unruly hair. "I just
hope whoever you settle on appreciates you as they should."

That strikes Harry's ear as odd, but he doesn't have time to think much
about it. Hermione pulls him close and he's distracted. She is very 
warm and she kisses him and it doesn't make any difference any longer.

He responds and Hermione makes some mysterious move that brings his
swelling penis between her warm thighs. He moves his hand to her
breast and strokes the soft mound. Her tiny jerks in reaction to his
palm sliding over her erect nipple make him respond to the way her
thighs stroke his erection.

Their mouths are still glued together as they share the arousal as if
passing it back and forth. Harry abandons the breast to put his hand
in the small of Hermione's back and pull her to him. He feels he is
reaching a critical stage and needs to have her near. Feeling her
pressed to him is some inexplicable comfort beyond the arousal of her
warm flesh.

"I'm ready, Harry," she says on breaking the kiss. "I want to feel
you inside me."

As now can be confessed, despite his sibiling affection for Hermione,
she is the only one Harry has made love to. The last time she crept in
on his awareness stealthily, so he has no idea how rare it is that she
should be so responsive, so easily aroused.

He knows only, senses really, that she wants him and welcomes his penis
as he presses it carefully into her. It is a moment of great meaning
to him, but what meaning eludes him. He knows he is there for Hermione.
His own pleasure? need? longing? is mysterious.

He knows he can't help feeling what he feels. He is intent only on 
bringing Hermione what relief he can. That he shares her solace is
collateral to his aim. He watches her as he moves inside her. It is
nearly as if the past hour did not occur. There is only the merest
hint of sadness in Hermione's eyes as he takes her.

"So we have again," Hermione says a bit wryly as they dress. "Soon
we'll have to question what sort does so with his sister."

Harry knows he is being wound up, but he can't imagine why. He was
only yielding her Hermione's wishes.

"I did need it, Harry," Hermione responds to his expression. "I needed
someone to love me. And I know you do, but I had to feel it."

Harry is beginning to grasp bits of the mystery of women. By the way
Hermione threatens to crumble as she speaks, he knows she was trying
to show a brave front. As his intent has been to comfort her, he 
helps her restore it.

"I doubt there are many that love their sister as I do," Harry says,
very solmnly at first, and lightens to grin, "Not the way I just have,
certainly."

Hermione snorts. All is not well, but it is better. Harry wastes no
worry on what Ron might think if he knew. Ron has forfeited that right
to his thinking. Not that it would matter to Ron. 

Ron holds it against Hermione that he was too dull to ask her to the
dance before Krum. Harry can't imagine Ron's reaction to knowing he's
had Hermione. Seeing how he was over a snog, Harry doubts Ron could
survive the strain.

Ah yes, revenge. "Harry was left to ponder in silence the depths to 
which girls would sink to get revenge." The beautiful (oh yes) and
most admirable author who penned those words put on paper perhaps the
most profound sentence ever composed. Nothing is truer.

Nor is there anything more sure than the consequences that come of it.

"Hermione?" 

"What, Harry? I'm right here," Hermione snorts with irritation as they
hide behind a knot of celebrants in a corner.

"Your left tit," he says, "You might want to cover it."

Hermione blushes as she looks down and sees the nipple poking out of
the neckline of her disarranged dress.

"McLaggen," she says fiercly, "An octopus has less hands."

"None at all, mostly suckers," Luna chirps up.

"You invited him," Harry says sternly.

"Accepted," Hermione corrects, "and you very well know why."

Harry is about to say he knows but doesn't understand when Hermione
gasps, "McLaggen!" and flees. He is left with Luna and smiles
sheepishly.

Returning from his exciting eavesdrop on Draco and Snape, Harry is
impatient to return Luna to Ravenclaw Tower and discuss his discovery.
Once more he is glad he invited her because she is happy to leave with
him whenever he wishes.

"I had a very enjoyable time at the party, Harry, as friends," Luna
says at the door of Ravenclaw. "I am glad you asked me."

"I glad I asked you, too," Harry says, although for perhaps different
reasons than Luna suspects. "I thought you were brilliant."

"Well then," Luna says.

It's time to part. Harry would be awkward in any case, but with Luna he
must think beyond the normal question of to kiss or not kiss. He is
just about to extend his hand, when Luna goes up on her toes and kisses
him. 

He is too shocked to pull away and a moment later Luna's arms go about
his neck and her tongue intrudes. Feeling helpless, Harry responds.

"I wasn't sure how to kiss, as friends," Luna says when she releases
him. "But I thought it went rather well."

"It was... um... great, Luna," Harry replies, still reeling.

"You're a very nice boy, Harry. And a good kisser," Luna says. "If
there's more you'd like, as friends, we are back early."

Not confused as to what Luna is offering, Harry is at a loss for a
reply. Luna tugs at his heart strings, but that is hardly a reason to
shag her.

"Umm... no, Luna," Harry stumbles, "I think it'd be best if we leave it
at this. But I did have a good time."

Harry decides Luna might be more impenetrable than vague as he wanders
back to Gryffindor. The encounter has interrupted his mania to reveal
Draco's admissions. He is still trying to understand what happened.


If it seems every girl in Hogwarts is available to Harry, Ron has one
girl that is always available to him. Harry's irritated observation 
that Lavender feels a moment not snogging Ron is a moment wasted only
scratches the surface of Lavender's real feelings.

Lavender feels that classes, walking the halls, even meals are wastes
of time that would be better used snogging, shagging, and anything
else that involves being wrapped about the big fish she's landed.

If for nothing else, Lavender is to be congratulated on her choice of
fish. Ron is giddily unaware of any ulterior motives. It must also be
said that he's not looking for any. Lavender's standard issue, jump
on them and don't let them breathe, much less look around, approach
is pretty much what he's always envisioned as the perfect relationship.

Except meals. There is a healthy give and take between Ron and Lavender
over food. She has to yield, for once, to his 'manly' insistance on
attending every opportunity to eat. Other than that, she always wins.

"But don't you want to make me feel good, honey bunches?" Lavender is
pouting toward Ron's hard-breathing face between her legs.

"I have been for an hour!" Ron only slightly exaggerates. "I want to 
feel good too!"

"Awwwww, you miss your wittle huggy bear?" Lavender baby-talks him.
"Wen come up her and wet her make it all bewwer."

Ron can't help himself. He thinks it's cute, not nauseating. It might
have something to do with her invitation as well. He crawls up to her,
stopping to kiss her as he finally enters her.

Lavender is a bit controlling, yes, but Ron is still a minute-man. As
they're British, there's no way to mistake that for a good thing. She
has to tempt Ron with what he'll get and start him on that site or
there's little in it for her.

Not to pity her. Lavender takes full advantage to assure herself of
pleasure, yielding only when Ron and his tongue finally tire. To be
fair, it does make riding out the next 60 seconds less of a nuisance.

Whoops! Busy talking and missed it. Ron is grinning wistfully at no one
in particular as his hips jerk a few more times as if with aftershocks.
That's the part he really likes.

He has to shoulder most of the blame, as if he thinks there's any blame
to shoulder. They've been at it continually since the first time,
missing constantly only for classes, walking to classes and meals. He
is still as quick to ejaculate, even quicker than the delay caused by
nerves the first time ever.

What's your point? He'd ask. It's what it's all about, innit? And for
him it is. As described, Lavender has found her way to deal with it.
But it's not the only carrot she knows, to bend Ron to her will.

"Ooooo, Won-Won, so tickwe in my tummy part. Come up here and wet
wittle ole' Wavnder kiss it and make it aww bewwer," she coos.

Ron likes that too and eagerly dismounts to let Lavender crawl to him
and take his penis in her mouth. He might like it even better if he
could make Lavender disposed to finish the job, but she only performs
long enough to ready him for another minute of thrusting.

It's been weeks and it will be weeks more before Ron tires of the 
quickly done squirt, but we know he will. Then someone will have to 
slap him into line so he can find out what he's been missing- so many
times- for so long. 


Harry is irritated and sore on his return from the Burrow after
Christmas. This is despite sharing the room with Ron and refraining
from masturbating with him in the room, at least awake. His repressed
affection for Ginny escaped his self-deception over the holidays and
Harry has had little relief.

This adds a bit to the irritation when Ron clobbers him for no fucking
reason out of the blue- as it seems, when Ron eats the contaminated
Chocolate Cauldrons. "Romilda... Can you introduce us?" Ron asks as he
hangs upside down.

"Sure, mate, no problem," Harry says.

Now Harry is a true friend and his intent is, like it says, to take Ron
to Slughorn for the cure, but the truth is there is a little detour
when they bump into Lavender leaving Gryffindor.

"Won-Won?" Lavender whines as she follows. "Won-Won? Won-Won. Won-Won!"

As she gets more upset, she tries to shake Ron. Bad job, Harry thinks,
but what can he do? Ron turns around and Harry sees the same red-faced
look as when Ron hit him.

"Leave it, Lavender," Harry warns, "You don't understand."

"You!" Lavender rounds on him, "You've always been against us. You're
with HER! You're on HER side! Just go away and stop telling Ron lies!"

Lavender is pushing Harry, physically. He is at a loss for options. The
last woman he was willing to hit is Bellatrix and we know why. He isn't
going to hit Lavender because she's mental.

"HER!" Ron picks up Lavender's thread, but we know they're referring
to different people with Ron in his condition. While Lavender is
venting on Harry, Ron is loping off with a giddy gait that's like his
own tormented version of skipping.

"Won-Won?" Lavender calls after him, still gripping Harry with intent
to shake. "What have you done to him?"

That's fair. Harry shares his part- leaving candy out where Ron can
find it- and manages to work in the bit about Romilda and love potions.
Lavender not only accepts his story, which surprises Harry, she becomes
reasonable, which surprises him more.

Mostly, Lavender knows it's true. She heard all about it in the days
approaching Slughorn's Christmas party. She approved. If it was a bit 
fanciful to believe Harry and Romilda would become a couple so that
she and Ron could have an acceptable couple to go out with, she at 
least felt it would do Harry good to be parted from Hermione and she
thought the incident with Romilda just might do it.

Now, however, Romilda is a conniving bitch in Lavender's books. It was
one thing to dose Harry. It is another to dose Ron, however innocent
Romilda is that it occured. She releases Harry and sets off in pursuit.
Harry follows. They come to a parting at the end of the hall and by
common, and unspoken, consent they each go off in different directions.

Ron is cagey, or lucky in his love-sick state (liebkrankheit). He has
ventured into an unoccupied girls restroom in his quest and only now
has exhausted his search for another exit. He emerges, still giddy and
seeking his true love after Harry and Lavender have passed.

Unfortunately, Romilda is roaming the halls. Fortunately she is in the
company of a gaggle of girls as Ron encounters her.

"Romilda! Romilda!" Ron pants as he rushes at her.

Romilda pauses for a second, thinking Ron has a message or perhaps with
some vanity at his pursuit, but sees his face and turns to flee. She
shrieks as she runs and her group splits as some run after her and some
stand where they were to watch.

Ron bowls several of the standers over as he rushes after Romilda.

Romilda's flight is no match for Ron's long legs and obsessive pursuit.
He catches her as she tries to dart into a classroom and pulls
at her jumper. She stops and turns to face him with wide, fear-filled
eyes. To her consternation, he steps back and looks at his shoes as he
sways from side to side.

"Romilda, hi! I'm Ron Weasley and I'm-so-frantically-in-love-with-you-
will-you-have-me-please-I-think-I'll-die-if-you-won't," Ron rushes out
so fast the words seem to blur.

"Then die!" Romilda tells him coldly and tries to turn away.

She feels panic and perhaps, but don't count on it, a tingle of regret
for being so harsh as Ron catches at her jumper again. She turns back
and finds he has collapsed to his knees and seems to be weeping.

"Please, Romilda, give me a chance," Ron begs. "I'll do whatever you
want, give you whatever you want. Please?"

Well, on his knees and weeping Ron seems small enough threat. It is
amusing to hear him beg and see him cry. Romilda has time to let out
an encouraging, "awwww" as Lavender comes storming toward them.

"Get out of it, you nasty slut!" Lavender shrieks. "He's mine! Ron!
Get off your knees!"

Again Romilda pauses as Lavender approaches, haughty in her victory,
and then quails and backs away. She doesn't back quickly enough. Ron
catches at her pant-leg as he attmepts to chase her on his knees.
Hobbled, she is in reach as Lavender arrives and grabs her by the
jumper.

"Nasty little home-wrecker!" Lavender accuses Romilda.

"I didn't!" Romilda protests. "He came out of nowhere. I didn't do
anything."

Lavender is in no mood to explain. Things haven't been really smooth
between her and Ron and she is glad to have someone to take it out on.

"It's me he prefers!" Lavender snarls, despite Ron now wrapping his 
arms around Romilda's leg and hugging it. "You're an interfering tramp!"

Being concilitory has gotten her nowhere and besides, some of the other
girls have crept in to see what it's all about. Romilda goes on the
offensive.

"You?" she snorts, "Who is he clinging to? Who was he seeking? You're
the one chasing after him!"

Romilda has mis-judged Lavender's reasonableness. In blind fury,
Lavender shakes Romilda. We can speculate all we want whether Lavender
intends to strike Romilda, but the fact is Romilda stumbles and falls,
leaving her jumper in Lavender's hands.

Catfight!

Ron is still hugging Romilda's leg when Lavender leaps on her and tries
to tear her black, smooth, silky hair out. Romilda responds by trying
to claw Lavender's face off. Ron lets go to kneel up and look dumbly
at the fight.

Harry arrives at the clatter. Professor McGonagall is coming from the
other direction, likewise alerted by the tumult. Harry pulls Ron away.
Lavender has grabbed at Romilda's bra to prompt her to stop tearing
at her face. Romilda is fighting to prevent being snatched topless.

Breaking up a fight is always dangerous for a Muggle, but Professor
McGonagall uses her wand to separate the combatants. Romilda instantly
gasps and covers herself. Lavender is leaning on the invisible force
of the Shield Charm with Romilda's bra in her hand.

Nice tits, Harry thinks. Perhaps I could have asked Romilda to the 
party, without the love charm, of course, he considers.


Harry only loves Hermione more as she suffers for the near calamity
that befalls Ron. It proves how deeply Hermione loves, for one. That,
under it all, she still holds true is a comfort both as regards Ron 
and for himself. He can see that she will always feel the same for him,
whatever temporary rows erupt.

He is just as glad that she doesn't seek the kind of comfort that makes
him so uneasy. She isn't in the mood to be fondled, much less shagged
as she sits her uneasy vigil over Ron. That's a comfort as he isn't
in the mood either.

It is small comfort as he must endure McLaggen's Quidditch lectures and
Lavender's breathy inquiries into Ron's well-being. Both are Ron's
fault, but Harry can't blame him much for being poisoned and bringing
McLaggen upon him. He does see that Ron could relieve him of Lavender,
however.

"You don't know Lavender," Ron protests when Harry tells him to stop
feigning sleep. "I can't account for what she'd do. How she might try
to 'comfort' me."

Harry is puzzled and it shows on his face.

"What am I going to say if Madame Pomfrey comes out and there's a
girl under the covers, right there," Ron points between his legs as
he makes his point so obviously even Harry cottons on.

This becomes an interesting yet troublesome discovery as Harry lies in
the next bed with his head swathed in bandages. Poor Ginny weeping over
his almost certainly dying form becomes her sweet face smiling up from
under the covers at his waist all too easily.

Somewhere in his brain he knows he is projecting Ginny onto a memory
of Demelza, but that doesn't help him control it or feel better about
how Ron, in the next bed, would react if he could read Harry's
thoughts. Harry is torn between this loyalty and a pique at Ron's
inferred intereference as the thought haunts him.

He finds he is taken with the pique most strongly when he fails to
dispel the thought beginning and is fantisizing Ginny's mouth moving
on his throbbing member. It is then he is most likely to let it play
out to an impossibly satisfying conclusion in spite.

After his suspicious seeming glee at the news of Dean and Ginny
fighting, Hermione is completely gobsmacked when Luna, upon delivering
the summons to meet Dumbledore, winks at Harry. Ron is typically
oblivious, but Hermione sees.

Her suppositions are thrown all askitter by this familiarity. She's
followed the signs, like tracking a herd of bison through the snow,
that Harry fancies Ginny. She is loathe to give a wink too much weight,
but Luna is not subtle and she can't see it would have any other meaning.

Harry a rake? It seems too far-fetched to consider, but if he is, it
means he has drawn her in as he has how many others? Her opinion
suffers a bit in spite of herself, which leaves her even more
distraught when Lavender confronts Ron.

She is subsequently less prickly than she might be when Ron does end it
with Lavender. She is not, of course, going to make it any easier on
Ron. That makes no sense, but she is less divided about her course. 

Her suspicions do prompt supposing other motives than Harry confesses
when he sets off in the opposite direction from where she has carefully
considered he should, after drinking the Felix Felicitis. It may be
he does have another feeling, and perhaps he is inspired, but Hermione
also considers he might be off to a rendezvous with another of his
unknown and unsuspected lovers.

He is, of course, not. He is on his way to solve the riddle, pun
intended, and then land in more trouble than he ever has done. Poor
sniveling, mean, evil Draco. It is frustrating that he is so pathetic
that we can't even rejoice in his injury. He is a sad case and cannot
even achieve a level of competence to make him deserve it.


This seems the best place to back up a bit and recount other matters
occupying Hermione during Ron's recovery and her suspicious musings
about Harry. It's been a year, if you've forgot, that Ginny has been
watching Hermione.

It isn't exactly bonding over Ron's near death that brings them
together. It's visiting him that provides the opportunity. Ginny still
has to seize it and be bold enough to suggest the possibility.

Brave girl, that Ginny, do not minimize the risk she takes even
speaking. Life-long emnity from her sister-in-law is only the direst
consquence if Ginny is mistaken. Sneering, or perhaps recoiling are
also threats.

"You know Luna..." Ginny wishes to start boldly.

"Of course," Hermione interrupts.

"I meant to say that Luna is my friend," Ginny said, repeating her
intended phrase with a slight alteration, "You know Luna is a friend
of mine."

"Sorry to interrupt," Hermione says, not seeing the point.

This is going well, Ginny thinks with ill-humor. "I mean a special
friend," Ginny says.

Hermione is seeing Ginny is working toward something, but there are
many possiblities. We should hang out together. You should be nicer to
her. She's shagging Harry. Luna is hardly beyond Hermione's notice at
the moment.

"Is there something between her and Harry?" Hermione goes with her
strongest- and most uneasy- guess.

"She kissed him. After Slughorn's party," Ginny shrugs off, "but it's 
me I'm talking about."

"Just kissed?" Hermione is more interested than Ginny- who, to be fair,
knows the story and is nervously trying to say something else.

"Harry," Ginny agrees, "Not me. She's more than kissed me."

There, that's done. Hermione gets what Ginny's been trying to say. Why
Ginny is telling her is still a mystery.

"Oh," Hermione says, "How... nice."

"I'm not queer!" Ginny says suddenly.

"Ginny, this is sweet and all and I guess we should get to know each
other better, but... why are you telling me this?" Hermione reacts
nervously to the sudden outburst.

"To see how much better you wish to know me," Ginny says, tiring of her
timid stalling and incensed, perhaps mostly at her own hesitation.
"I'll just say it. I like boys fine, but I don't see that rules out
sharing with girls. I do with Luna. I might like to with you, but I
don't know how you feel. So I thought I'd ask."

There was no going back before, but it is still more to proposition
Hermione. Ginny doesn't regret it. It's out, as it was sure to be
anyway, and she is relieved to have it done.

"Kiss? ... And touch? ..." Hermione seems to be reviewing the process
in her mind.

It isn't instant rejection, Ginny notes. She sees little clue to
predict interest or revulsion and Hermione could be yet to turn
a disapproving eye on Ginny, but she will have to wait for that.

"I know you like boys too," Ginny says with little motive, "I remember
about Krum."

Well, maybe a reminder of how she's been faithful to her promise, to 
encourage Hermione to think well of her, makes her choose those words. 
Ginny doesn't know the dangerous ground she treads. Not for Krum, but
that Hermione could reveal that she's also had Harry.

Not that Hermione would, but it is hard to say how Ginny would process
that information. By the time she discovers it, it is such old news
and she has been with Harry so long that it seems trivial, but that 
is still a long time away. Anyway, that is of little matter because
Hermione is still weighing what Ginny has proposed.

"Are you that fond of me or is this a... conquest?" Hermione asks
finally.

Now it is Ginny's turn to reel. She has been so involved in asking or
not asking that she hardly remembers the original motive. She starts
afresh and takes her time.

"I'm not sure," Ginny says honestly, working it out aloud. "I was
feeling very content and happy with Luna when I first thought of you,
so there's that. But then it was mostly indecision whether you might
or not."

"I might," Hermione makes a huge admission. "So where does that put
us?"

Working it out is making Ginny's head hurt. She's not one for long
contemplation. She is an actor rather than a thinker. It's what makes
her Harry's match.

"Right here," Ginny says and grabs Hermione to kiss her.

Hermione can act when motivated. She is also subtle and an observer.
She is mostly the latter as Ginny's tongue forces its way past her
lips and ravages her mouth.

Hermione's first observation is that she's never been kissed so
forcefully. More than any boy- admittedly only four- Ginny is by 
far the most aggressive. As that includes McLaggen, Hermione is taken
aback. Hermione's second observation is that she finds it stimulating.

Her third observation is that she feels Ginny means it to be. It is
a weak basis for supposing Ginny's feelings, but it does favor Ginny
having some concern for her. Even if Hermione is a mere conquest, at
least it seems Ginny means Hermione to think fondly of it.

Long ago a girl group posited: If you want to know if he loves you so,
it's in his kiss (That's where it is.). Hermione comes to the same
conclusion (substituing 'she' and 'her') and kisses back.

"Well," Ginny says, breathless herself, "Where are we now?"

"At the edge of my bed," Hermione says sensibly, "And on the edge
of something else."

Ginny appreciates the subtlety. Of course, now that it's decided, she 
favors plain speaking, but subtlety is nice, almost cute to her ear.

Hermione is still an observer, or perhaps a passenger carried along
as she lets Ginny place her on her bed and kiss her. Hermione has been
usually in control, even from the bottom, or squatting in Krum's case,
so Ginny again makes her think of McLaggen. Except Hermione is not
struggling and Ginny is not tearing at her clothes.

The clothes, however, do soon need to go. Ginny wants to feel warm
skin against her own and Hermione is curious as well. How will it
differ, Hermione wonders. She would have her suspicions if Ginny was
not destroying her pre-conceptions one by one.

It is not airy, or lyrical, or made of cloud puffs to snog Ginny. As
observed, Ginny is more forceful than any boy Hermione has known. Ginny 
is not light and teasing, nor giggly with her touches. The one thing
that is as expected is that Ginny is familiar with girls's clothes and
efficient in getting Hermione out of hers.

Then, wonderously, and even more unexpected, Hermione finds that Ginny
releases a beast within her breast. They are touching at full length,
if Ginny is only laying half on Hermione and slightly angled. Ginny's
brightly pink nipple presses almost perfectly centered between
Hermione's tan ones. Ginny's hand strokes the nipple not pressing into
her own chest and her leg lies along the inner surface of Hermione's
thigh.

As Ginny leaves off nibbling Hermione's ear to kiss her again, Hermione
feels the beast stir. Hermione might know what she is doing, but she
has been carried along by impulse before, most times in fact.

"What?" Ginny asks, as Hermione rolls her over and takes the upper
position.

"Perhaps I'm the one to have a conquest," Hermione replies.

Hermione's reply is pure attitude. She is no surer of why (or what)
than Ginny. She is clearer on proceeding, guided by her impulse and
her urge. In the reversal, Hermione has landed more or less squarely
over Ginny. Her leg is firmly between Ginny's and she can feel Ginny's
pubis at the joint of her thigh.

Hermione knows that's the place to exert pressure. As she does, she
strokes Ginny's pale, milky skin. Ginny's nipples are like berries,
where her own are more like erasers. Hermione tests them and finds
that shape has little effect on Ginny's gasp as they are excited.

"And you've never...?" Ginny huffs a little as she speaks.

Hermione answers with a shake of her head. Hermione can feel the
engorgement, the softening, the change in Ginny's vulva as her thigh
presses against it. Her hand is drawn to the arousal.

As her fingers slip between her skin and Ginny's, she muffles Ginny's
sigh with her mouth. Hermione has yet to wonder at suddenly seizing
control, but little else has been on Ginny's mind. It is not
troublesome, only puzzling. Hermione's stimulation has been far too
arousing to be troubling.

Now, as Ginny feels Hermione's fingers slide over her sex, Ginny is
realizing Hermione's aggression is not only aimed at control, but also
at her single purpose. Ginny's mind clouds. She is being carried away
and she yields to the flow.

It is such a reverse, not only of Ginny seducing Hermione, but of what
Ginny has known with Luna. Abandoning herself to Luna's capable hands
is still more like floating in moonlight, feeling the sensation wash
over her as she rests motionless. With Hermione, she feels rushed
toward some unknown, bobbing through the rapids on an inevitable
current.

Hermione's fingers are not yet intrusive, but they do their work with
an eager efficiency. Hermione's tongue is as demanding as her own has
ever been. Ginny does not cast it as a struggle, but she does try to
press back against the onslaught, to give as good as she gets.

It is then a matter of magnitude as Ginny's clutching for Hermione and
writhing against her becomes thrashing with pleasure. It is like a
breaking, a cracking, with sunlight streaming through. Ginny feels
bathed in the warmth, squeezes her eyes tight against the glare, as 
the orgasm washes over her.

Hermione's breath is hot in Ginny's face as she forces her on through
the ecstasy. Ginny can smell the arousal, as if on Hermione's breath
as Hermione pants over her.

"Now you," Ginny tries to demand but it comes out as a pant.

Ginny tries to overmatch Hermione, a simple thing ordinarily, but it is
only Hermione's willing surrender, and a bit of help, that allows it.
Atop Hermione, Ginny finds her thigh has landed in just the right spot.
She presses not only her thigh, but the rest of her body to Hermione's
and squirms on her.

Hermione's legs wrap around her own. Hermione bucks against the 
intruding thigh. Even as she rubs on Hermione, Ginny feels she is
Hermione's agent, her tool for self-pleasure. They are too frantic for
Ginny to make that change.

"Perhaps next time I'll show you how it's done," Ginny says lazily as
they lay in each other's arms.

"I think I might like that," Hermione agrees.

They don't speak of it. They were there; there's no need. How or why
Hermione acted as she did is not as interesting as what she did and
they are both satisfied with that. It is more intriguing how this new
relationship will develop and what it will alter, if it alters anything
at all.

You've always known Ginny and Hermione were close. And now you know
another of the reasons why.


And now you think the good stuff has come, but Harry is an idiot. He's
a sweet, sensitive, noble idiot, but an idiot nonetheless. Sure, Ginny
flies at him, Ron shrugs in acknowledged defeat and they go off, but
it's hardly worth following them.

Harry wants to snog. Snog, snog, snog, oh Ginny, I've just found out
how much I've always loved you, snog, snog, snog. It's as much as
Ginny can do to get her hand in his jeans, let alone her mouth down
there.

She can't kiss Harry, which Harry is demanding, and suck his penis at
the same time. The only way she can get a chance is to wank him in his
pants and, of course, once that's done sucking him has little point.

Harry does brush against her breast on a later occasion, but accident
or no, he pretends it is and there's no joy. We do know- hours by the
lake- Ginny evades his defenses finally. 

No offense to Demelza, but Ginny doesn't seem to be performing the same
act. There is so much that a mouth and tongue can do to a penis to
make its owner want to scream and laugh and beg and praise that, once
Ginny finally gets to it, Harry is paralyzed and unwilling to protest.

Ginny is never going to get him to shag her, yet anyway, so she has to
put everything into sucking him off and fortunately she's learned a
few tricks along the way. There's also the part about eternal devotion
and boundless love prompting her so Harry is quite gobsmacked.

It does raise the question how Harry can be so passive- as regards
shagging Hermione- and unmovable with Ginny, but the theory has been
advanced that he feels Ginny matters more. Or, more precisely, that
shagging Ginny has more significance in the course of his life.

Others say, and Ginny would be in this camp, that Harry is more scared
of Hermione than Ginny and obeys because he fears she'd not hesitate to
curse him. Ginny, of course, loves him too much and he's safe being as
much of a ponce as he wants.

No one seems to think Harry might be doing it out of regard for Ginny,
and not some mis-placed fear of ruining her, either. That he might see
doom and wish to leave her untouched for whomever is lucky enough to
replace him in her heart. 

This is a viable alternative. It both accounts for Harry's romantic 
notions and nobleness and his dim understanding that, perhaps, Ginny
would like to be ruined by him in any case, even more if she is to
lose him- to give her something to cling to in his memory.

He doesn't even get this when she makes one last attempt on his
birthday, but then we'll never know what they'd have discussed if
Ron hadn't interrupted, will we.

It makes you wish Ron wasn't hovering over Hermione like the shadow of
doom at the wedding. That interruption earned him the wish for Hermione
to have a chance to renew her friendship with Viktor Krum.  

No less annoyed with Ron's interference, Hermione would have almost
certaintly renewed her interest in Krum at her now mature level if
given the chance. She thinks he's hot. It takes something to make
Hermione lose focus and Krum did that on arrival.

We can dream, but we know Hermione doesn't have the chance to make 
good on her wanking three years before and take Krum to some secluded
corner to give his familiar penis a bit of that and some of t'other.

At least Fred and George are off enjoying Veela 'tang. That's for the
best because there are few at the wedding better suited to withstand
Veela charms than the avant-garde and worldly twins. Even Bill, who's
been plumbing it for some time, is still so enchanted that he's gone
and married Fleur.

Whoops! Off to Grimmauld Place and an enforced seclusion that reeks
with possibilities. Well, Ron ruined that by attacking Harry and
making Hermione resolve to keep her knickers firmly in place. 

Not until the eve of visiting the Ministry does Hermione relent and
pretend to fall for Ron's, our last night on earth appeal. This is a
shame because it's really, our last night in a comfortable bed.

Not that it matters much, Hermione discovers. Ron is much more
respectful and eager to please than ever with Lavender, but it's like
saying a cockroach is bigger than an ant.
 
He wants to kiss and fondle her- he finds her breasts genuinely
awe-inspiring- but his hours of exploration pass in seconds of real
time. It is both frustration and benefit to Hermione that he needs
no encouragement. She isn't bothered by arousing him but she isn't
getting much arousal in return.

"Ron, we don't have to rush," she tries to keep her voice playful but
it is strained.

"I can't help it. You're... so beautiful," Ron also strains, "And I 
don't think I can hold it much longer."

Well, folks, let's hear it for Ron. He can hold it. He can hold it
twice as long- two minutes. It's just enough to give Hermione hope
before he grunts and pauses to ejaculate in her.

This time, and you can ponder the significance at your leisure, she 
has assured herself there will be no harm. It's an arcane procedure
involving her wand in her hoo-hah, but the point is she's not tense
because she thinks Ron might have knocked her up.

She lies in the wet spot (another joy) looking at the ceiling for
some time after Ron is snoring contentedly beside her. She may be
wondering if she can take a lifetime of that.


We're not talking sex, we're talking major perversion when Hermione, as
Mafilda Hopkirk, lifts Umbridge's robes and pulls down her underwear.
'S no more than she deserves and we can hope all manner of underlings
discover her and have a good laugh, but it's not sex.

Unless, of course, some disgruntled employee wants to avail themselves
of her condition, but, ugh!, really!, how could they while they were
puking? Unless, a broomstick, maybe? Let's hope.


It is possible Hermione's pondering on the last night in Grimmauld
Place led her to a grim conclusion as we hear her muttering after
Ron is splinched. Something about not doing more because destiny is
destiny and maybe Ron is meant to die.

There's that self-directed thing about a job half done when Ron
complains he's bled half to death in a later argument, as well. Taken
as a whole, best that can be said is Hermione is undecided.

Fuck canon. And who can say Hermione's tears on Ron's departure aren't
guilt because she's got her wish and now feels bad? Women are weird.
They don't know what they're thinking themselves half the time.

This also stands against any argument that one thing makes more sense
than the other, but hey- human nature. Wizards and witches are human, 
maybe more so. Just as likely there's exaggerated needs and emotions
as well.

Anyway, it's the row that Harry most fears, more than Voldemort, more
than a wet toilet seat. Hermione is screaming that Ron is useless and
a burden without redeeming contributions and Ron is, just like Ron,
still complaining how he's owed more.

"And you couldn't be more pathetic in bed!" Hermione finally sinks
below the belt.

Remember? "Harry was left to ponder in silence the depths to which
girls would sink to get revenge." Still true. Always true. Profound.

Ron has no retort. He sits there dumbly, too taken aback to even
shake with rage and blurts out, "Oh yeah?"

"Who've you had who's better?" he challenges.

They've talked about Sven, the Nordic giant, not really, but a human
6-foot 4, who was Hermione's supposed first lover: blond, blue-eyed,
muscular, a Muggle, but magic in the way he glided on the snow in
the most tricky runs on the Matterhorn. The more she invented, the
more Ron seemed to relax and see this Sven through her eyes. It can
be supposed he forgave her since he never heard of this non-existant
guy before Hermione made him up and he was not available or much
interested at the time.

Boys are weird too. Girls don't have a monopoly on self-deception.

Ron is sneering and ready with what passes for witty rebuttal in his
mind, about Muggle Sven and sliding down mountains with sticks on his
feet when Hermione pops the top. "Harry," she says.

If Hermione could have swung the Troll's club with the force of a
Troll, she couldn't have stunned Ron more. It's a full minute in real
time, about a month in Ron time and a split-second in Harry time as
Ron sits dumbly with his mouth gaping before roaring, "I knew it!"

Harry is tensed, he isn't sure if it's to run or protect himself. Then
Hermione freezes him with a glance before turning back to Ron.

"What?" she says scathingly, "Some previously undetected talent? You
were able, by this mysterious means, to shove your tongue down
Lavender's throat AND sense Harry allowed me to have him?"

It's out now. Harry thinks it's over, but as Hermione speaks he
marvels at the difference between her telling and the bald truth. He
is receiving a lesson in damage control.

He also notes Hermione has conveniently left out the actual first
time, but he is simply grateful for that. Less is better in this
instance, as none would have been best, but it's too late for that.

"Allowed you?" Ron bellers after several huffing starts. "Allowed you?"

"Yes Ron," Hermione says, now perfectly calm and her words icy, "Harry
only wished to comfort me. He wanted to lend me a shoulder to cry on,
as any caring person would. I had to beg him."

Harry is now interested in this series of events. It is a thrilling
story and he wants to hear the end. He wants to see how he was finally
convinced. He listens as closely as Ron to the telling.

"Oh, you *begged* him," Ron dismisses.

"Yes, because you left me," Hermione is quick to deny Ron any momentum
and reestablish his guilt before putting the crown on her masterpiece,
"And he wouldn't. So I hexed him."

Ron is no more, in fact much less, bemused by this lie than Harry. 
Harry jerks back with this revelation, but Ron is scowling at Hermione
and paying him no mind. Harry is grateful for that, and for Hermione's
excuse. He feels a sliver of doubt at letting Hermione bear the
whole blame, but he defers to her understanding of such things.

"You..." Ron can't make himself say it. He's been robbed of everything
brewing in his mind and it will take some time to dump it out and
add other ingredients. It isn't about Harry and Hermione going behind
his back any longer. It's just Hermione's revenge- like the canaries.

Ron finds himself on unsafe footing with the revelation.

"Look at him," Hermione points to Harry in triumph. "Harry just found
it out as well. He didn't know. And he was still five times the lover
you are, Ron Weasley!"

Harry's look is perfect for this twist. He is as much as confunded by
her retelling as if he was cursed. The final topping does nothing to
make him seem wiser. He is reacting with genuine shock to the violence
Hermione has done to the truth.

Five times? no more than three, surely. Nah, Harry doesn't think that
way. His concern is his share of blame, which he ought to, but doesn't
want to, confess. In the end he sees it's better to leave it. He can
only do more harm by refuting Hermione's story.

Mind you, if he wanted Hermione, it would be perfect, but he also knows
Hermione fancies Ron, most of the time at least, and it is best to
leave it to her.

"Yeah- so?" Ron asks grumpily. He is bereft of a retort and uncertain
what to say. He isn't done, but he needs to regroup. "What about it?"

"Maybe you need lessons," Hermione says boldly. "But it's up to you to
talk Harry into it. I've done enough. And it seems he can resist me."

Ron is thrown off again. He was slowly assembling the 'facts' Hermione
threw at him and forming some objection to her seeking out the first
she could find to spite him, but this new concept distracts him.

Lessons? How could they go about that? He secretly wants Hermione to
be happy with him, less secretly wishes she wasn't annoyed, but he
isn't sure about lessons. It's admitting an awful lot to seek
lessons for *that*.

Harry only comes to appreciate the other, unnoticed at the time,
message Hermione inserted in her rant later. She managed to convince
Ron that he, Harry, was not only blameless, but on his, Ron's, side.
It would be out of friendship if he, Harry, were to help Ron be a
better lover.


"Oh Ron, don't pout," Harry hears Hermione sigh from the bunk beneath
him.

It is most uncomfortable, but also most prudent for him to lay on the
top bunk while Ron and Hermione shag. There's no other place where
he can't see them and they refuse to let him leave every time they
wish to have it off.

He has made an uneasy peace with the arrangement over the weeks, but 
it is the growing tension he hears that is hardest to take. Since 
Hermione suggested Ron take lessons, it seems their relations, sexual
relations, have been on a downward slide.

"But you said I'd warmed you up enough," Ron is complaining.

"As I thought you had, but I was wrong," Hermione is impatient behind
a poor attempt at pretending patience, "I'm sorry. It was my fault."

As they all well know by now, nothing accuses Ron sharper than Hermione
accepting the blame. Harry hears Ron turn over and pretend to sleep.
He is sure he is no more aware of this deception than Hermione as they
have both been sleeping, in the same room at least, with Ron long
enough to recognize the fake.

"Harry, I've been thinking," Ron approaches with a long face and Harry
is sure it is the request he's feared. "What Hermione said about
lessons."

"Yeah," Harry agrees he knows what Ron's talking about, "I was
wondering when you would."

"So? You've been waiting or what?" Ron is volatile at the moment.

"No," Harry says slowly, he hopes calmingly, "I've been wondering
myself. How am I supposed to give you lessons?"

"I dunno," Ron stops blustering to focus on the question. "Draw me a
diagram?"

"I mean," Harry is adopting Hermione's truth, "How can I teach you 
when I don't know myself? I don't remember. I don't know what to say-
or diagram- or anything."

Harry has been waiting to spring this on Ron. He thought feverishly
from the moment Hermione said it to come up with some way of avoiding
these lessons. It took him long enough, but fortunately Ron wanted to
try on his own even longer.

"Oh yeah- " Ron sees the supposed snag. "I dunno then."

He's being Ron's friend. Harry has worked it out. It might be a lie,
but it's better than the truth and Harry doesn't see how giving Ron
lessons is going to benefit either of them. It's best if Ron gives it
up as a bad job and muddles through on his own.

"It's just that... you know... " Ron, unfortunately, doesn't want to 
leave it, "when I... you know... work her up, I get... you know... so
excited I don't... you know... last... Not like I might have otherwise."

Beyond hearing the painful hesitation of Ron getting it out, Harry is
just uncomfortable with the subject. It's enough to hear it happening.
He doesn't need Ron to give him a re-cap.

"I dunno," Harry says neutrally. "Like I said, I don't remember."

Harry doesn't know Hermione's true intent, nor does he suspect that
Ron has no hope. He doesn't suspect that the line about women and
seeking revenge can be read: "Harry was left to ponder in silence the
depths to which girls would sink to get what they want.", as well.

"It's simple," Hermione says when Ron reports the futility of seeking
Harry's help. "Why don't you watch him."

Harry is blessedly in the kitchen as he overhears and no one sees his
surprise. It is the expected reaction, but Harry exhibits it with a
guilty knowledge he feels might be seen on his face. He is not
imagining Hermione's full intent, but he knows enough to see his peril.

Recovering from his own surprise, Ron is only able to gulp, "Watch?
Watch him have it off with you?"

"It wouldn't help if you aren't there to see," Hermione says so
reasonably that it's almost hard to remember what she's proposing and
the things she ignores, "You have to be there or there's no point."

"But... with Harry? You? Harry?" Ron has focused in on the pertinent
points.

"Ron, it won't be the first time," Hermione says with a tired look,
"and you'll be there. It's not like I'm saying I'll sneak off and
shag Harry behind your back. It's for you, remember? And for me as
well. So you and I can, well, enjoy each other more."

Harry hears Hermione's reasoned response and appreciates her use of
tone, if he misses the subtle twist of emphasizing it's Ron problem
they're solving. He's hearing it like a symphony as Hermione goes on,
the subtle threat to seek Harry, the appeal of helping and the, oh so
nicely avoided accusation restated.

He doesn't appreciate his part, but Hermione's manipulation is
brilliant. He appreciates it less when Hermione invites him over.

"Harry, don't stand there listening, come over here," Hermione beckons.
"You're going to have to agree. Ron can't very well watch you if you're
not willing to help."

Yeah, sure, help. He is too deep in to pull back the curtain now. The
Wizard- Witch actually, is moving the levers and he knows the deceit,
but he's trapped into playing along. Ignore the woman behind the
curtain.

"What do you think?" Ron asks Harry. "Think it would work?"

"I dunno," Harry is trapped in his denial, "Have no clue."

He only appreciates how far Hermione has burrowed into Ron's brain-
without magic- when his neutrality makes Ron eager.

"But you'll give it a go, won't you?" Ron asks. "You'll try anyway?"

Ron is almost begging him to shag Hermione. He lets that twist up the
corner of his mouth. It looks wry and as if the idea is vaguely 
distasteful. He suddenly wonders, realizing it is just the proper look,
whether Hermione knew how he would react as well and if he is as much a
pawn as Ron. She seems serene. He sees no clue to her thoughts.

"I guess," Harry yields, as much because he suspects further resistance
will only bring greater pressure as agreement.

"Thank you," Ron is genuinely grateful, "We have to try, don't we?"

"Now when?" Ron asks Hermione, eager to start.

"Not now," she recoils. "In the course of things. It will take some
getting used to. I'll have to prepare myself."

Women! Harry thinks. He has a thought of a fish, now securely hooked
and being reeled in at the angler's leisure. Only both he and Ron fit
the role. At least, he sighs to himself, it's no worse than shagging
Hermione. After what he's just seen, he fears he could be soon
looking down at Eloise Midgen if that was Hermione's intention.

"This is awkward," Hermione giggles.

There's no reason it should be. She's been naked in front of both of
them before. She is as much speaking aloud the uncomfortable shifting
of Harry and Ron as any modesty of her own.

There's a better explanation for her giggle. Not just she's about to
have her way. There are two men, the men she most prefers, watching
nervously as she takes away her bra. She can see how much they fancy
her in their discomfort.

She gets the rest out of the way quickly because the nervousness is
beginning to affect her too. This is still a risky ploy, no matter how
fully Ron has accepted the idea. And she is about to have sex with
Harry while Ron watches.

A great adventure, she has told herself to quell lingering doubts. And
Ron will never suspect. How can I know if I don't try, she further
bolsters her courage to depart from all normal strictures and dare
the unknown.

"Now, I suppose, Harry, you should start," she says as she lays back.

They have pulled down the mattresses of both bunks and laid them side
by side to make more room. No fear of anyone seeing. Everyone in their
party is naked on the floor.

Ron at first questioned this, but couldn't say why. He and Harry hardly
spent hours staring at each other's parts, but it wasn't as if that
should bother him. Hermione soothed him by saying it would make her
more comfortable and hinting that he might be called on to show what
he learned when Harry was through.

More than a hint, she feared, was pressure and that would not do. She
is trying to banish all worry as Harry moves over her to kiss her.

I suppose it doesn't matter, Harry is thinking as he looks at Hermione.
I'm not supposed to know what I'm doing. He is finding it difficult to
kiss her. He passes his hand over her breast for a moment as he
assures himself he must.

It starts awkwardly, but he loves Hermione. Maybe it isn't the kind of
love he should be shagging her for, but her kiss nonetheless draws
him in. Hermione finds it easier to shut out Ron and only respond to
the gently probing tongue in her mouth. She's been thinking about it
for ages. She is as assured as she can be there will be no negative
consequences. She trusts that as she yields.

Harry is finding Ron is an easily banished reminder as well. He only
has to direct his attention more closely to Hermione to let himself
forget about the observer. He wants to touch her. He wants to feel her
smooth, warm skin slide under his hand.

Oh, she is a temptress, he finds as Hermione returns the touches. His
chest, back, even arms feel the soft carress as Hermione strokes him
as he strokes her. They kiss and smile. Harry nuzzles her throat and
Hermione raises her leg to let the sole of her foot run along his
calf. They kiss again.

Harry doesn't bother to kiss her breasts. Hermione twitches each time
his hand passes over them. Her leg is prying him to move between hers.
She is pulling at him and her head lifts up to demand more kisses.
He knows she wants him and soon.

He moves between her legs and they come up to trap him. Her heels are
inside his knees, her thighs pressed along his. Her hips drag the
furred patch of her pubic hair along his erect penis. He can feel
the dampness of her arousal when her hips tip up to him.

"Kiss me, won't you? Kiss me as you come in?" Hermione says with a
sighing breath that is plea and prompting.

Harry ignores her for a moment to press against her and feel her body
along his own. His hand sweeps once more up and down her side from hip
to shoulder and then he complies. He moves to set himself to her
entrance and then puts his mouth on hers as he presses inside her.

He feels her sigh into his mouth. Her tongue is more active as he
fills her. Once he presses against her, she pauses and he begins to
seek her tongue. "Mmmpff," she prompts and he begins to move.

Well, that for Ron, Harry suddenly remembers the audience. He's
shagging Hermione in front of him. He finds himself interestingly
unconcerned. The feeling of Hermione, not just the wet grasp around
his moving penis, but her own stirring seems to overrule any care
beyond her.

Perhaps he is a bit more aware of how pleasant it is to be inside her.
He still finds her sigh and the shifting under him to be the most
arousing. Seeing Hermione's pleasure is a beautiful sight that he 
appreciates to his very center. As she rouses and moves more to 
encite him, his entire desire is to feed that motion, to drive her
to greater exertion, greater pleasure.

Perhaps that's what he needs to tell Ron, he thinks for a flash as he
thrusts faster.

"Kiss me!" Hermione demands this time.

Harry can feel her agitation. She is moving slightly out of rhythm, a
bit faster, anticipating his thrust and squirming for him to catch her
up. He has not been counting seconds so he does not know if it is
sooner or longer, but he knows she is approaching the crest.

He puts his mouth over hers and she moans into it. Her tongue seems
helpless and he does not pursue. He has not wit enough available to
decipher her aim, but he feels the way she presses her mouth to his 
and holds the contact as he drives her to climax.

"Go now, finish!" she urges as her mouth breaks away. She is clinging.
Her entire body demands his effort. He does not have to drive into
her long. The massage of her spasms brought him so near.

He explodes into her with a long groan, ejaculating a long held reserve
deep within her. Hermione's feet pull at him even as he is still,
thrust deep inside her. She is urging out all his stores with a greed 
Harry senses as compassion.

When he looks up he fears Hermione has miscalculated. Ron is regarding
him through narrowed eyes, his jaw set. He seems as confused as
unhappy, however.

"Come here," Hermione says directly to Ron. Harry scrambles to get
out of the way.

She pulls Ron down and kisses him. Harry looks away. He is not the one
doomed to watch and he finds Hermione's eagerness unsettling.

When Ron is released, Harry does notice he is more bemused and no
longer hot. That's enough, Harry moves farther away.

"If he had to, you do," Hermione calls in almost a teasing tone to 
stop Harry's retreat.

Then fine, he sulks, but sees Ron grinning as well. If it means peace,
Harry resigns himself and sits at the end of a mattress. He has time
to play over what has happened as Ron attempts to ape his actions,
making love to Hermione.

The kiss, he reasons, the kiss when she had no wish to kiss, was to
muffle her cries. She did not want Ron to know how well he pleased
her. This is warming and some proof against Ron trying to move too
quickly between Hermione's legs, in his judgement.

And he is watching for some balance he can't fathom, although he saw
how Ron was pleased. He doesn't mind seeing Hermione's pleasure. And
in Ron's arms is how he thought it should be.

He sees Ron was not so hurried as he thought. He is, rather, spending
longer pressing against Hermione. He has still not moved to enter
and Harry resigns himself to a longer wait.

"Oh Ron! Didn't you feel it? That was loads better!" Hermione bursts
when the commotion is finally through.

"No more lessons then?" Harry is quick to ask.

Hermione smiles at him. There is something smug about it. "Well, if
he keeps it up, then, I'd say not," she answers.

"But it was good?" Ron asks and it seems his only concern.

"Yes, Ron, yes," Hermione giggles, "Couldn't you tell?"

Harry keeps his own council. Hermione is still in charge. There was
something in her grin that says she isn't done with her Machivellian
manipulations. He is still at a loss to guess her ultimate aim.

"Oh Ron! Nearly! Just... Just stay there!" 

Harry is trying not to hear the harsh whisper. He doesn't want to
listen in. More than normally he wishes to not be an interloper into
the things going on below.

Worse than the whisper is the squeak. There is urgent movement and the
squeak of straining springs from below. Whether he wishes it or not,
Harry knows what the movement means and it is verified by the sigh
moments later.

Oh, so near, he thinks mutinously. Just a bit more, Ron, perhaps one
more lesson will do it. He anticipates Hermione's appeal. He is
beginning to see her intention.

He, as usual, makes up his mind without all the facts. More than usual
he is at least on the right track.

"Harry, mate, I'm not an imbecile," Ron is blithely saying as he sounds
like he is proving the reverse. "I don't need Hermione to tell me. She
was still... revved up from the first bit. That's why it was so easy
for me before."

"What do you think will change from watching?" Harry challenges. "Did
you miss something before?"

"Harry, wait, why the attitude?" Ron seems genuinely distressed. "Do
you find it that hard a slog?"

Harry regards Ron coldly. On one hand, he wishes to tell him. On the
other, he is confused by Ron's offense. Yes, he can see how he 
sounds rejecting, but when did not shagging your mate's best girl
become a crime?

"I just don't want to... come between you," Harry improvises. "It's 
not normal, you know."

Harry has no defense when Ron grins. He's been taking it all wrong.

"Then how about coming in beside us?" Ron is smiling. It seems he finds
Harry's confusion amusing. "Who gives a fig for normal anyway?"

"What are you saying?" Harry asks though he fears he understands.

"Forget lessons, just come and join us," Ron says, "Hermione has led
me to understand."

Led him somewhere, Harry fears, but can't tell Ron. Ron takes Harry's
head slowly shaking for wonder at the proposition. It is actually
Harry finally seeing Hermione's aim.

"It's not she *prefers* you, just wants to *include* you," Ron goes
on to explain. "Once I got over that bit, I could see her point."

Harry suspects there was some bit about poor Harry all alone above
them, acting against Hermione's concentration as well. It reminds him
of a joke which turns on an old man revealing that his refrain of,
"Poor Abigail, up above us, looking down" refers to someone in the
attic.

Very well, if she's got Ron so eager, I suppose I join them. Harry
sees no other course. He is waiting to corner Hermione. He wants to
remind her he knows the truth. It is to salve his ego. He was drawn
into it so witless his ego needs salve.

Hermione is so efficient in arranging the disassembled bunks, locking
the resulting cots together and even transfiguring a mattress to give
padding where they join that Harry marvels Ron doesn't cotton on. 

Although, on further consideration, it is so like Hermione to make
the impossible seem simple, he finds he can understand. It is only his
own collusion that makes him see her actions with a jaundiced eye.

It actually proceeds rather well. Hermione, of course, is radiant in
her victory and Ron content beyond expectation to have her turn to
him and then to Harry to kiss them in turn as they lie together.

She directs them, arranges, orders them, carefully showing no
preference for either. In that, her sole departure from fairness is
to always assure Ron has her last so she lays in his arms as they
drift to sleep.

The arrangement proceeds into the next week before she suggests
alteration. Ron has found no reason for objection and is eager to
explore. Harry is wary, but feels he will get no hearing and also
consents. It is clearer, to Harry at least, that this has been
Hermione's aim from the start.

As he could not have imagined it, much less predicted, Harry feels
a certain amusement as Hermione places herself in the center of her
two men and enjoys their attention, not only from all sides and 
angles, but in secession and together as well. It is Ron's acceptance
that most surprises Harry, but Ron seems more than content, even smug
about sharing Hermione with Harry.

Ron, when Hermione is on her knees, sucking Harry's penis while Ron
shags her, gives Harry the 'thumbs up' as if he arranged this sharing
for Harry's pleasure and is proud of it. Harry returns the gesture
with a bemused smile. He seems so happy, Harry is loathe to ruin it.
He is even more taken by the way Hermione has manipulated events
without being seen to do so.

It is not so much a joke on Ron, since Ron is content and Harry sees,
well rewarded. For that reason more than any other, Harry seen no
reason to disturb the accord.

"What's the problem?" Hermione asks blithely when Harry finally has
her alone, "Aren't you content? You don't want me for your own, do you?"

He is taken aback she jumps so quickly to that conclusion. He only
means to remind her of his part and his awareness.

"You know better," he says, he hopes, clearly, "I just was wondering...
why?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Hermione rolls her eyes. "I have the two of you to 
put up with. I might as well have the pleasure of it as well."

Harry is skeptical.

"You doubt me?" Hermione seems offended, "You can't imagine that I
might fancy you both, even fancy you both together? Well, then your
imagination is too narrow, because I do. That's why. I enjoy both
your attentions and yours is the first complaint I've heard."

"But Ron," Harry protests, "You weren't truthful. You manuvered him
into thinking it was all right."

"Do you hear him complaining?" Hermione counters. "What does it matter
how he came to it? At last look he was quite content. More content than
he ever has been I might say."

Harry has to grant that. Ron is bearing up under the hardships rather
better. He has not become miraculously Jolly Ron in spite of
deprivation, but he is somewhat less dour even then. And Harry has to
admit it is easier to lay with them than to listen.

His own advantage is a thing he still prefers not to explore.

That becomes advantage when Ron still storms off. Not exploring it,
Harry misses it less when Hermione is in moritorium in Ron's absence.
Harry feels it is wise, however he has become accustomed to the
intimacy.

It seems too much like usurping Ron's place were they to continue
without him. It serves as a pause for reflection and a renewal of
Harry's longing for Ginny- in which he develops a convenient amnesia
about the sharing before.

Ron's return sees no rearrangement of furniture. The bunks were
restored in his absence and remain so as no one enjoys conjugal bliss
while Hermione's temper cools. There is time for only a brief renewal
before Harry's gaffe throws them headlong toward the close.

Despite the whispers of what must be happening among the others at
Shell Cottage, Ron, Harry and Hermione resume their threesome only
once while there. The rest is spent in plotting with Griphook, though
they do not discourage the whispers. It is a good cover and an excuse
not to reveal their true intentions.

The story that Dean Thomas had Luna every way but Thursday is largely 
a figment, or one of Dean's more vivid dreams, and even he doesn't
boast of it after he sees no one believes him. Luna and Ollivander is
more attractive. Certainly not at Shell Cottage with the shape
Ollivander's in, but they were in the Malfoy's basement for a while.

He does say she was an inexpressible 'comfort' to him and makes her a
wand, however. And who can blame either of them? Unsure of survival,
Ollivander randomly, as it must have seemed, tortured, in the dark 
with nothing else to do. A sly carress, a stray kiss, even moaning, 
thrashing, hot, sweaty love, it would be comfort after all. 


Obviously, our heroes then shag in a pile on Fred's dead body amid the
corpses of Lupin and Tonks. Not.

No one even wants to fuck Bellatrix's dead body in the ass. Not even
Neville. There's the story that Malfoy snogged dead Voldemort, but
that was only started to discredit him. It was more likely Crabbe,
anyway.

Next, Harry is with Ginny and Hermione has lost her chance. Oh, it's
not that bad. Ron has grown up. He has the emotional maturity of a
16-year-old now, which is saying something, and, as importantly for
Hermione, the experiences of the year, bad and good, have made him a
capable lover. Hell, he can even make her climax 8 out of 10- without
Harry's help.

Hermione- shocker- gives up Harry gracefully, but that's not to say
there isn't an incident or two. Ginny- although we know she's capable-
has yet to join in, but is aware of these incidents and is the
instigator of one.

All in all, one big fucking happy family, happily fucking as a family.
Not that Fred's getting any, but as far as brother and sister goes,
Harry and Hermione have tapped that seal on incest- oh yeah!

And what's the harm? Incest is best. And even better when the
incestuous couple isn't even related.
	###