FicWad

Chapter 26 - The Man of Her Dreams

"Yer daft," Seamus insisted, "I saw Harry from the tower window. He was rounding the lake with Bulstrode not five minutes ago."

Neville looked confused, "Then who was it I talked to coming up the steps to the Gryffindor Tower just now? He was chatting with Hermione . . ."

"Hey, mates, come look!"

Neville and Seamus joined Dean at the window.

Dean was holding a pair of omnioculars up to his face with one hand, and with the other was pointing over the forbidden forest.

"See that speck?"

"Yeah, some kind of bird?"

"Here, look through these."

Seamus looked, "Shite, it looks like two people flying without a broom. They're holding on to something Ican't see and . . . uh, oh!"

He passed the omnioculars to Neville, who looked - and blushed scarlet.

He alone of the three could see the thestral that Harry and Luna were riding. He could also see that, while Harry was facing forward, Luna was on his lap, facing him - her legs wrapped around his waist. They were letting the movements of the thestral's stroking wings set the pace of their . . . ride.

"I'll just hold onto these for abit, alright?"

Any objection Dean and Seamus may have had died on their lips as they saw Neville's expression - that of a self-appointed guardian, defending the interests of his best mate.

"Um, sure, Neville. No worries."

)O(

The thestral, Noir Demise of the clan Noir, swayed gently, allowing her human companions to relax in post-coital bliss. She remembered her first mating flight with her own bonded stallion and snickered, a disturbingly human sound coming from the macabre, beautiful, flying, carnivorous equine.

Precious few of the human animals are enlightened, and only Harry and his mares truly understand the benefits of mating on the wing. If the gods are kind then Harry and all his mares will be granted wings of their own.

)O(

Harry leaned forward, holding Luna fast against Noir Demise's surprisingly comfortable shoulders and neck. The thestral's coat was long and luxurious, like that of an alpaca, only warmer and softer.

"Thank you, Luna, for talking me into flying this afternoon."

The tiny Coven Witch purred while re-wrapping her arms and legs around her Sorcerer.

"Oh I promise you, milord, the pleasure is all mine."

"I must beg to differ, milady, Ithink I'm having an equal measure of pleasure."

Luna chuckled, "A measure of pleasure to treasure at our leisure."

Harry laughed, delighted at Luna's innate ability to charm with her unbridled enthusiasm.

"Don't ever change, my Lady Luna Potter!"

"Only if you ever leave me, Lady Luna's Lord Potter."

"Oh good, never then."

"I love you, Harry."

"I love you, Luna."

)O(

"What masochistic perversion led me to take NEWT level Runes and Arithmacy and Astronomy at the same time?" Harry groaned as he escorted Hermione to Gryffindor Tower to retrieve her outline notes from her fourth year.

"Someone said something about understanding the underpinnings of spells, and you tend to hang on Professor Sinestra's every word."

"She is rather easy on the eyes, Hermione." He teased, then turned to the portrait guarding the entrance to Gryffindor Tower and said, "Lady Helena sends her love."

The lady in the painting smiled and nodded and swung inward.

"Harry, I already share you with a score of other witches - you can't make me jealous. Besides, I have it on good authority that Miz Sinestra has bonded with another teacher."

Harry looked shocked, "Hermione Granger Potter, are you spreading /gossip/?"

She preceded Harry up the steps to the girls' dorms. It was indicative of the level of acceptance from the rest of Gryffindor House that no one commented on the fact that Harry was going into the girls' domains.

As they entered the room that still had her "official" bed she countered, "It's not gossip if it's true, I've seen her with a young, dark haired girl whom she introduced as her 'daughter to be' - that description is only used in magical families when a witch or wizard is planning to bond with someone who has children from a previous marriage."

"And the teacher?"

Hermione knelt by her trunk and carefully removed the neatly stacked layers of books and clothing until she found the box that protected her rolled-parchment notes. "He's not a Hogwarts'teacher; he's not even from the U.K., an American teacher of music." She leaned forward conspiratorially, "Apparently, he's a music magus."

Harry's look said, "Please explain."

"A magus is a very powerful wizard, with a specific talent, very specialized. Professor McGonagall, for example, is gifted in transfiguration, but if she could change objects permanently, she'd be a crafter, a transfiguration magus."

Harry nodded, "And Professor Sinestra's, um, fiance?"

"Can affect the weather with his'craft,' and influence people's moods with just a few notes on his guitar lute." She pronounced it guitar /laow-tay/.

At Harry's curious expression she added, "A twelve-string lute tuned like a guitar."

"Ah," he said as if he understood. Of course he knew that she knew that he was still clueless, but content to accept any explanation from Hermione as undisputable fact.

"Here they are," Hermione smiled, holding up a matchbox sized case, "right where I left them."

"Back to the apartment then?"Harry asked.

Hermione's grin was predatory,"Oh no, Lord Potter, not when I've got you where I've wanted you since Halloween of our first year."

She led him by the front of his robe around to her bed, then pulled him down onto the mattress.

"I came back to this room after you saved me from the troll . . ."

)O(

Twelve-year old Hermione Granger lay on the duvet of her four poster bed, still wearing the damp, dust covered robes she'd had on since leaving the bathroom. She was shivering as the full weight of her near-death experience threatened to crush her. Even as she began to lose herself in shock she thought, shouldn't I be in the hospital wing, being treated for stress-induced trauma?

And, not for the first time since coming to Hogwarts, Hermione asked herself, why don't witches and wizards think of these things?

As her blood pressure and body temperature dropped to dangerously low levels she thought, it's not like anyone will even miss me.

Then she remembered Harry, the tiny boy who jumped on a troll's back to save her.

His green eyes.

His unruly mop of raven hair.

He would miss her.

Worse, he would be /disappointed/in her for giving up.

Hermione focused on his face, his smile, his eyes.

As she did, a warm, tingly feeling seemed to settle in the pit of her stomach and she felt her cheeks warm even as she shivered in her wet things in the October chill. Unbeknownst to Harry, he'd saved her a second time that day, as the thought of him pulled Hermione out of her shock and gave her the will to live.

Deciding she needed to get cleaned up, and that a hot shower would be just the thing, she peeled out of her robe and uniform blouse and skirt, shoes and socks. Pulling a bathrobe from her wardrobe, Hermione padded barefoot to the showers.

She liked the shower stall farthest from the window, partly because the window let cold air seep into that side of the room and partly because of the rumor that boys on brooms would hover outside the glass to ogle the witches - pervs!

Somehow the thought of Harry on his broom, watching her in the shower didn't sound bad at all.

As she skinned off her knickers the gusset stuck for a moment, almost as if it had been pasted in place. She thought for a moment she'd peed herself - well, it had been a rather large troll - but then realized that the residue in her cleft was something else.

This must be what mum was telling me about, when she gave me the "talk." The lubricant that makes it easier for a boy to put his penis into a girl's vagina.

At the time, Hermione thought, no way, no boy will ever do that to me!

But now, scant weeks later, the thought of Harry . . .

Oh.

There's that feeling again.

Warm, tingling and . . .

Hermione ran her hand over her pudendum.

Oh, that feels good.

Hermione dreamily walked into the shower and adjusted the temperature to just below scalding to give herself aproper soak.

And a proper rub.

Feeling much better from her shower (and rub), she returned to her room.

As she lay in her bed she thought of Harry and began to rub herself again.

I'm going to need to keep aflannel under my pillow from now on,she thought as she slipped her fingers into her knickers to rub her bald, wet cunny.

)O(

". . . so you see, Harry, you have been the man of my dreams since I was twelve."

He snuggled up to her side and snuffled the juncture of her neck and shoulders through the main of thick brown hair - a move that always made Hermione wet with anticipation.

"Oh, God, Harry!"

"Oh, Goddess, Hermione," he purred, kissing her neck while his left hand roamed over her body.

"I wish I had dragged you up here in our first year, I would have been your first . . ."

Harry placed his fingers on her lips.

"You are my first, Hermione, - my first true friend, my first love, my first kiss, and always, /always/first in my heart."

"Oh, Harry, I love you so much."

"I know, and I love you more."

She endured the sweet, slow torture of Harry, at a snail's pace, unbuttoning her blouse.

It was more delicious than any of her girlhood fantasies, because he would unfasten a button, then caress the newly exposed skin beneath before moving to the next one. Also, the fact that he pulled her shirt-tail out of her skirt and worked the buttons from the bottom up was unexpected.

As Harry loosened the button just below the swell of her breasts he caressed the soft, braless globe.

Hermione groaned with pleasure as she thought, God but this man knows how to handle a breast!

Unlike most boys, who, according to Lavender, simply groped and squeezed and pinched, Harry caressed. He gave delightful attention to the whole breast before palming the sensitized areola and erect nipple.

When he loosed the last button he reverently opened her blouse and gazed longingly at "the girls," as if he couldn't believe they were real - and his to take (and give) pleasure in.

He kissed the swell of each breast, before laving each erect nipple with the flat of his hot tongue.

More often than not, Hermione would come from the attention Harry gave her highly sensitive nipples - and today was no exception.

"So," he purred into her ear,"you would lie in this bed and have dirty thoughts about me while you rubbed yourself?"

Saying this he pulled her short skirt up above her hot, wet sex and used his free hand to palm her mound.

Unable to speak, or even form acoherent thought, Hermione just gasped and nodded.

"I'll bet you rubbed yourself here," he said, applying just the right amount of pressure to her swollen clit, with out pushing her over, "is that right?"

A groan and another nod.

"Would you like to know what Iwas doing back in my own room?"

"Y-yes." She gasped.

"I was wanking, pulling my own pud, thinking of you. It was my first experience with anything like that, my first wank, and you were the girl of my dreams."

She reached into Harry's trousers and grasped his erect member, pulling and pushing at the glans just the way he liked.

She didn't understand, then, why Harry rolled just out of her reach.

Hermione mewed in frustration.

"I have a surprise for you, Hermione." He said as he slipped out of his trousers.

He rolled back onto her, naked from the waist down, to kiss her thoroughly. Then pushed up to kneel between her wide-open legs. He could almost see the steam of her arousal wafting up from her glistening sex.

Placing his swollen gland against her wet entrance he whispered, "Phallus /undulatus/."

Harry's cock began to undulate from base to tip, without loosing any of its rigidity, a sinusoidal, pulsing motion that promised to touch every pleasure point within Hermione's sex.

As he slid his surging member into her tight channel she screamed, "Harrryyyy!"

Just when Hermione thought it couldn't possibly get any better he smiled and said, "/Accelero/."

The pulsing increased in speed and intensity.

"Jeeeeayyyyyzussss Christ, Harrryyyyyyy!"

Just before she passed out Hermione thought, I wonder if I remembered that silencing charm?"

When she came to Harry was still on her, in her, leaning up on his arms looking concerned.

"Hermione, sweetheart? Are you okay?"

She laughed, "Oh, Gawd, am Iokay. I went way beyond okay before you said /accelero/!"

"Oh good, cause your roommates were worried."

She looked over Harry's shoulder to see Parvati and Lavender staring through the curtains at the couple on the bed.

Lavender was smirking and Parvati looked envious enough to eat her own liver.

"Um, ladies, could you give us afew minutes, um, better make that several minutes, please?" Harry asked over his shoulder.

The two Gryffindor girls, looking somewhat dazed, walked out of the room.

"You confunded them, didn't you?"

Hermione shrugged and said,"Might have."

Her eyes flew open, "Harry, you're still hard."

"Well, yes. . ."

"Want me to call the Gryffindor airheads back? I might need a little help here."

Harry shook his head and began the slow, firm strokes that were guaranteed to push Hermione over the edge -without depriving her of her consciousness.

"Haven't you noticed? I don't have airheads, only beautiful, sexy, scary-smart Witches."

"Hmmmm, you know the way to agirl's heart, oh yes, oh, unh, oh, unh, oh, oh, ohhhhhh yeaaaahhhhhh!"

)O(

Four nursing students had decided to room together to share expenses and to offer support while they were in training. All four were witches who came from non-magical families and were interning at St. Mungo's.

Cheryl had brought a handsome exotic foreigner from her pub hopping. He'd been charming and polite and had the cutest accent, eastern European or Russian, she thought.

When they'd returned to the flat the other girls, Andrea, Tammi, and Kim had been, at first, jealous of Cheryl's luck.

Then five of Sasha's friends had apparated in, and what remained of their short lives became a living hell.

Bellatrix Black, nee Lestrange, raised one eyebrow and demanded, "What are you doing with that mudblood, Sasha?"

"She vas goot, she did not scream or cry like the otherz, she said she vill do anythink."

Voldemort's second in command lifted the girl's chin with the tip of her wand, "When rape is inevitable, may as well lay back and try to enjoy it?"

The girl shrugged, and looked to Sasha for protection.

"She's a survivor, this one."Bellatrix said to no one in particular. "Take her, kill the others - make it messy and make her watch."

Cheryl begged whatever gods were listening that she would somehow; in some way atone for her cowardice as she watched her classmates, her roommates, her friends whipped to within an inch of their lives, then butchered.

She couldn't cry - didn't dare to show any emotion. Some part of her wondered if she'd ever be able to cry again. She looked away and down to the floor as the last of her friends, Kimmy, bled out.

Cheryl looked stoically at Sasha and seemed to shuffle her feet.

Bellatrix looked at the hellish scene before her, three young women hung naked from the ceiling, throats cut -their life's blood splattered over every surface in the apartment.

She was impressed; the Cossacks were equal parts subtlety and brutality. None of her lord's former death eaters had shown such qualities. He would be pleased.

Bellatrix used a magical camera to capture the gore in nauseating detail. She knew that, if she sent the pictures to every news outlet, all of them would publish them - oh there would be disclaimers, "not suitable for young children or the faint of heart," but the photos would be in every paper and magazine in the magical world by mid-day tomorrow.

"Mosmorde!" she shouted, placing the death mark above the flat.

)O(

The following morning neither Tonks nor Moody were present for physical training. Harry was half-way through the day's lesson on unarmed combat when Nymphadora stepped into the clearing, her visage grim.

Harry pulled her aside, "What's happened, then?"

"Sometimes this job is pure shite, y'know?"

Harry nodded for her to continue.

"I thought being an auror would be fun, exciting, y'know?"

"Go on."

"I've just come from a flat where two of my friends, classmates from Hogwarts, were hung up like pigs in an abattoir along with their flatmate. Goddess, Harry, they were the gentlest souls you can imagine, nearly done with their internships, well on their way to becoming healers. Never hurt anyone in their lives. They died in pain, tortured and terrified."

Throwing her arms around Harry she sobbed, "Whatever you do, don't become an auror. We see so much of the naked underbelly of the "magical" world, it changes us. It damages us. . ."

Harry gathered Tonks into afierce hug.

"It was Voldemort," she whimpered, "if it's the last thing I do, I'm going to see that dickless rat-bastard dead!"

"Doesn't sound like Voldemort's M.O." Harry mused, "He's more of an AK kinda guy."

"The dark mark was hovering over the girl's flat - we got called in on the investigation."

"Any leads, other than the dark mark, that is?" Harry asked.

"One word, a name, I think. Sasha. It was traced in the bloodstains on the floor."

"Russian."

Tonks nodded, "Moody's checking the international portkey registry now."

"Check for any "Sashas" or any other Russians coming through the registry since the known death eaters were executed." Harry suggested.

Tonks sniffed, released Harry from her embrace and pulled a signaling mirror from her pocket.

"Senior Auror Moody this is Auror Tonks."

"Go ahead, Tonks."

"Harry's made a good suggestion -we need to see who's come through from Russia and Eastern Europe since the ministry purge a couple of months ago."

"You think Voldemort went abroad to recruit?"

"Yeah, and while he can apparate across time-zones, not too many of his hench-types can, so they'd take the international floo or portkey."

"Stands to reason, thanks. This narrows down our list of suspects to a manageable number."

Harry looked pensive. "Tonks, do you want out?"

She shook her head, "No, at least not until old snake-lips is taking a long dirt nap."

"Well, I was just thinking, being Lord Potter and Lord Slytherin and all, I might need a bodyguard for myself and the Witches. Excellent pay, you get to set your own hours and I hear the boss is a real sweetheart."

Nymphadora kissed him full on the mouth - and was a bit surprised when he kissed her back with equal enthusiasm.

"Always trying to save someone, aren't you?"

Harry shrugged, "Apparently."

"Maybe when this bloody war is over, Harry. I'll keep my options open."