Harry has some interesting dreams that summer. Post year five. Innuendo only. Possibly cliche`, probably AU, definitely crack. One shot
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter (et al). That privilege goes to the talented and lovely J. K. Rowling, to whom I am eternally indebted, both for a fascinating read and for many bedtime stories for my daughter.
Disclaimer 2: This story is so NOT HBP compliant! That...book...and it sequel, Deadly Horrible, clearly demonstrate that even talented and lovely authors can make (huge and hideously ugly) mistakes.
A/N: I wish to thank my sister, FireLemming, for her beta work. She doesn't even follow the Harry Potter fandom, preferring TLK, and yet, will take time to offer much needed (and often unappreciated) critical advice. Having an expert on literature, the English language, European mythoglogy and anthropology, leaning over your shoulder making snarky comments about your writing can be a pain, but it does cut down on research time.
Harry James Potter woke in the deepest night, in his too-small bed in his too-small room in the too-narrow-minded house at number four, Privet Drive, in the far too homogenized village of Little Whinging, Surrey.
The reason for his abrupt awakening, was the extremely pleasurable sensation of a warm, wet mouth sliding up and down his shaft.
“Go to sleep, Harry.” Came a voice that was somehow familiar. “You’re having a dream.”
“Yeah…Dream.” Harry muttered as he sank back into slumber.
Harry sat up abruptly in his too small bed, in his too-small room in the too-narrow-minded house at number four, Privet Drive, in the far too homogenized village of Little Whinging, Surrey, thinking: ~Wow! What a dream!~ Checking his sheets, he found no ‘evidence’ of his nocturnal imaginings and so shrugged the dream off as just that, he got dressed and prepared for another day of endless drudgery. The warning hadn’t done much good, and as soon as Vernon discovered that despite their promise, the order would only get involved if he beat the boy, Harry became his target of the month.
The days chores included cleaning the house from top to bottom, stripping and waxing all the bare floors, tending the gardens back and front, cleaning the greenhouse, and car-park, as well as painting the storage shed in the back. Harry worked through the day and since he hadn’t finished by the time Vernon arrived home, there would be no supper for him.
He was too tired to care. Using the sponge and the bucket of water they allowed him, he washed, and then fell, exhausted, into his bed.
That night, the dream returned. This time the mouth was different. It moved in a different pattern but he exploded just the same.
The days followed in a like vein with odd chores being invented. If there was nothing to do, Harry was ‘farmed off’ to other neighbors as day-labour. At least ‘they’ fed him!
Night after night, the dreams returned. Harry worked himself into a stupor every day, and each night his dreams gave him the most exquisite pleasure. He knew he made some noise, but to his surprise, the Dursleys never once demanded he be quiet. That above all else proved to him that these were indeed dreams and nothing like the reality of his imprisonment. Still, he managed each day’s workload and fell into bed each night,
Albus Dumbledore was concerned. Harry was not reacting to his imprisonment as he should be. By now, his emotions should be running dangerously high, just waiting to explode. In fact, seeing as how Harry had openly defied him at the end of term, Dumbledore had planned for just such an explosion, so he could have the boy placed into Azkaban for a year or so, in order to break his burgeoning spirit. Once his pawn was properly broken, he’d have him removed from the horrible prison, to face Voldemort.
Instead, night by night, Harry actually appeared to be growing stronger! Every day his magical aura showed the signs of abuse, and every night about midnight, the boy showed the aura of a happy, satisfied and exhausted wizard. It was approaching midnight even now, so he decided to observe this phenomenon for himself. Checking the wards, he found the castle secure. Nobody should miss him for the next hour or so. He walked calmly down the stairs to the entrance hall, and from there to the steps leading out of the school. Spying Severus, he nodded a greeting.
“Good evening, headmaster.” Voldemort’s oily spy greeted his stooge. “And where are you off to tonight?" He silently cast a compulsion charm on Dumbledore.
“Oh, I am going to Harry Potter’s home in order to see for myself why he so happy.”
“Perhaps he is being lavishly entertained by those…muggles.”
“Now, Severus. You know as well as I that Harry has never been feted by his relatives. Surely your excursions through his memories, have told you his life was not unlike your own.”
“Nonsense! Potter is a spoilt copy of his arrogant father! He will die in the end, by the dark lord’s hand, and the dark lord shall rule supreme!”
“What was that, Severus?” Dumbledore asked as he came out of the mind-altering spell.
“Oh, Nothing, Headmaster." Snape backpedaled. "Just a cough. Will you be joining us for breakfast tomorrow?”
“Oh yes, indeed. I truly adore those ‘special’ danishes you’ve taught the elves to make."
“I am so glad you enjoy them. I shall have to see if Pomona has any more Cannabis Sativa resin.”
Dumbledore left the castle with the vague feeling of hunger, while Severus went to his private greenhouse in an unused part of the castle to harvest his ‘special’ ingredient.
As soon as Dumbledore left his office, Fawkes flashed to Minerva’s chambers and began to sing. Normally this would annoy McGonagall, but she knew what was afoot. Blinking at the red and gold firebird, she sleepily asked: “He’s gone to check on Harry, then?”
Fawkes gave an affirmative noise as he nodded his head. McGonagall, arose from her bed, donned a tartan gown and stepped over to her fireplace. She called out: “Arabella Figg’s home.” as she threw a pinch of the glittering sand in. After calling several times, Arabella answered, looking barely awake. At the sight of her old friend, she was immediately wide awake.
“Yes? Oh, hello, Minerva. Is he on his way then?”
“Yes. You must get…er, whose turn is it tonight?”
“According to the schedule, that would be Miss Granger. Oh dear! She was so looking forward to this night too!”
“Well, she’ll just have to wait until tomorrow. If Dumbledore catches her, there will surely be hell to pay. No fear. I understand the ladies have all agreed that she would be the one to take his virginity, regardless the situation. They’ll simply have to reschedule."
“Hedwig is here. She can be there in half a minute.” Mrs. Figg turned and swiftly attached the short note for Hermione to the snowy owl’s leg. Sending Hedwig on her way, Arabella sat back for a chat. Less than a minute later, Hedwig returned sans the message. Three minutes later, a furious Hermione Granger raced in.
“Shit and damn! I was this close! This close, Ara! Why did that meddlesome old bastard have to pick tonight, of all nights, to come and check up on his weapon?”
“Miss Granger…” Minerva called from the fire. “I am certain the headmaster did not decide to investigate simply in order to disrupt your sexual misadventures. Be that as may be, he is on his way. You should take the portkey to your home, as it looks like Albus is there for the night.”
“I’m sorry, Professor." Hermione flushed in embarrassment. "Thank you for the warning. I’m leaving now.” Hermione gave Arabella a hug before taking the muggle pen the old squib handed her. She clicked the pen five times rapidly and vanished in the usual flare of colors.
Albus Dumbledore arrived at Number 4, Privet Drive seven minutes after Hermione Granger had vanished, and eleven after Harry had climaxed. Once again, he slept peacefully. Dumbledore watched all night.
At five thirty AM, Albus could heart the whiny, screechy voice of Petunia Dursley, order Harry out of his bed so as to make breakfast for his massive relatives. Dumbledore watched happily as Harry doled out the portions to all concerned and received a backhand from Vernon and a kick from Dudley for his troubles.
Long used to such abuse, Harry simply stood to the side of the kitchen, as he had been instructed, to watch the others eat. What Vernon and Dudley did not eat, they rendered unfit for anyone else. Even Dumbledore was disgusted. Still, he saw that is weapon was in working order, so he didn’t give it another thought.
That would be his downfall.
That evening, Poppy ordered him to take a sleeping draught, citing his advancing age and his lack of sleep the previous night.
That night, Harry lost his virginity, making all Dumbledore’s detailed and well thought out plans moot, as they required a willing, ~virgin~ sacrifice, and Harry was now ineligible.