SNORKACKS: REDUX (Or: How They Each Got The Man They Wanted.)
My sequel to Snorkacks and Campfires' Harry, Hermione, Luna and Ron each find what they need.
(Or: How They Each Got The Man They Wanted))
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 (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 (if often unappreciated) critical advice.
Feb 14, 7:35 PM, Hogwarts, Room of Requirement:
“It’s time.” Luna’s voice, soft and musical, broke Harry from his light doze. They’d made love a short time before, and were now luxuriating in a large tub of steaming, bubbling water, which Luna had, for some odd reason, configured as a huge cauldron. Potatoes, onions and carrots bobbed around in the tub with them, and in the background music Harry could hear what sounded like jungle noises and angry war-drums.
“She’ll be here soon.”
“Are you sure?” Harry murmured, holding his lover warmly in his arms. Luna snuggled closer into his embrace, and nodded.
“We both knew this day would come, Harry. I’ve said it before. We’re not meant to be together forever. You belong with Hermione, and I with Ronald.”
“But you’ve never told me why.”
“I might be, but you’re avoiding the issue.”
“What issue is that?”
“You know very well what issue. Why are you so adamant about Ron being yours? Did he save your life from rampaging hippogriffs?”
“Once, yes. But it wasn’t hippogriffs. It was eight-year-old boys. They were teasing me horribly, and then they got mean. Ronald came along just as one of the boys pushed me to the ground. The others grabbed all my drawings, and I think they were going to destroy them, when he yelled for them to stop and dashed across the road. Well, he waded into them like an avenging angel…for me. As badly outnumbered as he was, and as badly as they beat him, he still fought. He stood up to them and got hurt for me. It was only when Fred and George saw what was happening, and lent him a hand, that he stood a chance. He didn’t even like me, but he stood up for me against five boys, older and larger than he was, in order to protect me. That day, he showed me a part of his soul. That’s something that very few people ever get to see. I think that we must have bonded that day, because I knew then, that he would be my husband. Harry, I have been seeing the future for many years. I have foreseen this. Just as in the happiest futures, I see you with Hermione, I see Ronald and I being happiest when we are together. What’s more, Ronald and I are alike enough to understand each other, and dissimilar enough to challenge each other. Yes, he’s sometimes boorish and uncultured, and he’s prone to jealousy and temper, but deep inside; he’s got a heart of gold. I think I can knock off those rough edges and polish what he’s got, and one day present him as acceptable. Besides, we both like the Cannons.”
“That’s not much to be going on with.”
“It’ll be enough.”
“You’ve got a huge challenge ahead of you, you know. Ron is stubborn and prideful. He won’t go quietly.”
“Yes. I know.” Luna stated, looking Harry in the eyes with her unnerving gaze. “But I have a secret weapon. One that has ravaged empires and brought kings to their knees. I shall use it without regret.”
“And that is…?” Harry asked, sure that he already knew the answer.
“I have a vagina.” Luna returned, completely confident in herself. She returned her head to Harry’s chest and buried herself deeper into his embrace. Harry was more than used to these blunt statements of hers, but still, sometimes she surprised him. Not knowing what to say, he just tightened his hold on her and sat in the bubbling water, thinking.
Being a true seer, Luna had seen the future many times, but as someone once mentioned, “Always in motion, is the future.” Luna had seen many different futures, but was frequently unable to tell the one from the other, and therein, lay the problem. As is the case with all who are ‘different’, Luna was ostracized by most of the wizarding world, simply because she saw the world in a different light. Her gift, untrained as it was, made it impossible to be as ‘normal’ as those around her preferred. This selfish attitude that most of her peers demonstrated, had hurt her terribly, and until she joined with Harry, she’d had no respite, except within her imagination. He had provided her the strength and stability…the anchor, as it were, that she needed to begin to recover from her pain, and to find her own place in the world.
The futures that Luna frequently glimpsed varied in color, style and texture. Many of these futures showed Harry being defeated and the world falling into anarchy, decay and eventually complete destruction. Some few showed Harry destroying Voldemort only to take his place as the next dark lord. Fortunately, most showed Harry defeating Voldemort, and remaining true to the light, in a world that would eventually grow in peace and prosperity. However, in all those futures, he’d had the freely given love of a certain bushy-haired best friend. In fact, Luna was firmly convinced that Hermione’s involvement in Harry’s future would be the only thing that assured them that that future would be a peaceful one.
Despite what she had told Harry, Luna couldn’t see her own future very well. No seer could. She did know, however, that she loved Ronald , and the thought of him by her side, just seemed…right.
7:34 PM, Gryffindor tower:
Hermione stormed into the common room, to find Ron covered with sweat and mud, discussing Quidditch with an equally filthy Jack Sloper. She’d come from the Library, seeing as how her boyfriend had once again deserted her in favor of a Quidditch practice. Now, at this late hour, she just wanted to either cry in his arms, or tear those arms off and beat him to death with them!
“Ron!” She snapped. “I can’t believe you forgot our date! You promised you’d take me to Hogsmeade today!”
“Oh, sorry, ‘Mione. I forgot. Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you.” Ron was clearly more interested in the conversation with the increasingly nervous Jack Sloper than the one he was having with his angry girlfriend.
“Oh, honestly, Ron! It’s Valentines Day, for heaven’s sake!”
“Awright, Awright! Don’t get your knickers in a twist. I’ll take you to Madam Puddifoot’s in a while, OK?”
Hermione was beyond furious. This is the sixth time in the last half-year that Ron had failed to meet her for something important. They’d only been dating since the end of term the previous year, and already, he’d missed her birthday in September. He’d tried to make up for it, by handing her a bag of Honeydukes candy -- from the bottom of his trunk. Harry and Luna had taken her out on her special day, for brunch and later, when they realized Ron had ‘forgotten’, to dinner.
On Halloween, he’d ‘forgotten’ the dance, leaving her to her own devices until the last minute. He’d shrugged into a robe and taken her then, only to desert her for his Quidditch team after just one dance during which he’d trod all over her feet. Harry had wanted to kill him outright. Instead, he’d arranged for each of the boys in Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff houses to dance with Hermione. Despite her boyfriend not being there, Hermione had to admit; she’d had a great time -- just not with Ron. Asking Luna for permission, she’d kissed Harry rather thoroughly in thanks. Unfortunately, she’d done it just as Ron had returned to the great hall.
His jealous explosion had resulted in him being stuck to the wall overnight, with a broken nose, purple skin and yellow hair, flowers growing from his ears and a horrible case of flatulence.
In late November, Ron had reluctantly taken her to Madam Puddifoots, for tea. He’d whinged and muttered all through the event, about how much this was going to cost him, when he ‘needed’ new keeper’s gloves. Hermione had grit her teeth and tried to make the best of the situation.
That all came to a screeching halt, when Ron had spilt her tea all over her new blouse. Hermione cried out in pain as the hot tea soaked through the chiffon. Of course, the delicate fabric tore and Hermione was exposed from the waist up. Ron had thought it was hilarious, until he saw Draco eying the mortified Hermione’s, barely-covered breasts with undisguised lechery.
Harry and Luna had come to the rescue, as they’d just entered the tacky establishment. Harry, of course had wanted to avoid the place like the bubonic plague, given what had happened the last time he was there, but Luna had insisted that there would be an event of great importance that day. She’d been correct. Luna had immediately conjured a wrap for Hermione, while Harry had interposed his body between hers and Draco’s.
The bookends had tried to interfere; only to find themselves facing the massed wands of more than twenty of the patrons…including several adults! The Slytherins departed, glowering all the way.
Snape had later tried to take points, but Professor Glyffs had been present and informed him in no uncertain terms that should he try, he would personally cancel the deduction and file a complaint with the board of governors. Snape smirked evilly until Flitwick advised him that detentions against a student who had done no wrong was grounds for a duel, and he would be happy to fill the position of ‘second’. Dumbledore chided him but really could do nothing. The rule did exist. Snape, good as he, was stood no chance against Flitwick, and he knew it.
Christmas break was a disaster! Hermione had gone to Bonn with her parents, and Ron hadn’t even written. Harry and Luna had written, Ginny had written, Neville had written, hell, even Parvati and Lavender had written. Just not Ron. When they’d met back at Hogwarts in January, Ron had handed her a box, saying: “Happy Christmas”.
Inside the box was a cheesy gold-plated necklace proclaiming her, in inch-high letters, to be ‘Ron’s bird’. He’d followed up that oh-so-thoughtful gift by suggesting they find a broom cupboard to shag in. For one of the few times in her life, Hermione was happy to be on her period. The expression on Ron’s face when she’d told him that; was almost enough to make up for his insensitivity.
The Hogsmeade weekend in January was a bust, as the Gryffindor/Ravenclaw Quidditch match was due to be played that Sunday. Ron begged off at the last second, claiming: “There are more important things than dates.” Harry had taken her shopping with him, despite the fact that as Gryffindor’s seeker, he would be playing as well. He said he was looking for something nice for Luna, and he would love to have her accompany him.
Several hours of enjoyable companionship later, they settled into the three broomsticks for a mug of hot butterbeer. Luna joined them mere moments later, warning them to expect a visit from the treacherous troglodytes. Hermione nearly scoffed at Luna’s nonsense, but refrained, recalling clearly, her unfortunate visit to the teashop. Luna’s prior prediction had come true, and Hermione had become intrigued by the odd blond. Harry just checked his wand holder for freedom of draw.
Of course, Draco Malfoy had reared his perfectly coiffed head, making comments about Hermione moving up in the world. When he’d asked rather loudly, if Harry thought she was a good shag, he discovered that he’d somehow managed to misplace his lips, leaving him silent for the first time in a long time. He rushed out of the pub, accompanied by vigorous applause. Since Harry hadn’t used a wand, he couldn’t be blamed. Luna, on the other hand, lifted her wand from under the table, blew at the end, like an old American gunslinger, and twirled it around her finger, before vanishing it into her hair.
Again, Snape had tried to take points but Harry silently handed his wand to McGonagall. She performed ‘Priori Incantatum’ and discovered the last three spells he’d performed were a levitation spell, a mouth freshening charm, and an erasing charm with the words ‘Foulmouth the Great, led the gorblin rebellion of 1185…’ Smirking, she returned the wand and suggested a spelling tutor.
Other little incidents had followed, and now, this! They’d planned this Valentine’s Day outing in Hogsmeade for weeks! When Ron hadn’t shown up at the front doors as expected, Hermione had waited. Ron sometimes had problems with deadlines. After half an hour had gone by, she’d gone in search of her wayward boyfriend.
In Gryffindor tower, one of the second years told her he’d seen Ron head out with some others all dressed for Quidditch. Sure enough, when she looked out the window, she found a group of people flying over the pitch. Very near tears, she’d fled to her usual sanctuary…the library.
Now, she’d had just about enough of Ron’s emotional constipation.
“Ron, Madam Puddifoot’s closed three hours ago.” She snapped back. “In case you haven’t noticed, it’s dark out!” Not to mention, following her humiliation the last time she was there, Hermione absolutely despised Madam Puddifoot’s and everything that place entailed. Confetti sprinkled into their tea, ruined chiffon and first-degree burns, was most definitely not her idea of ‘fun’.
“So, we’ll make it tomorrow. Sheesh! You whinge over the silliest things, sometimes!”
Hermione gasped in shock over that latest insensitivity. Ron continued to Sloper, while not bothering to moderate his tone: “Merlin’s beard! If the shagging wasn’t so good, I’d go hunting for another bird!”
That comment left the Gryffindor common room utterly and completely silent. Even Ron noticed. He looked up to find sixty girls and at least twenty guys glaring angrily at him. Even Sloper, who wasn’t really all that bright, began to sidle away from Ron, in a not-so-subtle display of self-preservation. Hermione was nowhere to be seen. Only by those closest to her heard her last quiet words: “We’re through, Ron.”
A silver ring fell, unnoticed, to the carpet as Hermione angrily departed that scene of stupidity. Now, broken- hearted, she ran weeping, through he halls, seeking a place of sanctuary.
A puzzled Ginny entered, followed by her steady boyfriend, Neville Longbottom. Noting the silence and the glares all aimed at her brother, Ginny thought: ‘Oh, this can’t be good!’
“Ronald Weasley!” She shrieked. “What have you done, this time!?!”
Argus Filch saw Hermione, and was gleefully preparing to confront the miscreant and take house points for the unforgivable crime, of running through the halls.
Professor Vector also saw her, and Filch. Knowing Hermione as well as she did, She wondered what could have upset the studious girl so much. A quiet confundus charm, left Filch wondering why he was in this particular hall.
Mrs. Norris arched her back, her patchy hair standing on end, and hissed at Sylvia for interfering with her familiar…until the Arithmancy professor conjured a mouse and released it to scurry away. The foul tempered cat instantly forgot her bonded and raced after the snack.
Hermione ran until she found herself on the seventh floor corridor where the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy hung. She began to pace back and forth, hoping to find a place of sanctuary and comfort.
A heavy oaken door appeared.
Inside, she found a couch facing a gently crackling fireplace. On the low table, were a pot of hot cocoa and a plate of freshly made shortbread biscuits. Her mother had always baked these for her, when she was upset. They’d sit, cuddled on the couch in the lounge and sip their hot cocoa and nibble on their biscuits, until Hermione was ready to talk about what had hurt her. It always made Hermione’s pain just that little bit less.
Now, she desperately wished for someone to cuddle up with.
Her prayer was answered immediately. Almost before she sensed him, Harry had settled himself next to her, wrapping her in his arms. She instinctively turned into him, reveling in his warm embrace. Behind her, she felt another set of arms encircle her. She knew it had to be Luna Lovegood, as they were rarely apart these days.
She also realized that neither of them wore much. Just bathrobes. Flushing furiously, she attempted to escape, stammering: “Oh my God! I’m so sorry. I…I didn’t realize the room was occupied. I…I…I’ve interrupted your evening. I have to go!”
Hermione struggled to rise, but Luna stayed her by the simple expedient of placing her finger on Hermione’s lips.
“Nonsense. This is the Room of Requirement. Obviously you needed us here, so here we are.”
Hermione couldn’t understand it. She blurted out: “That actually made sense!” then realizing what she’d said, clapped her hand over her mouth, flushing in embarrassment.
“Quite a lot of what I do makes sense, Hermione.” The gentle seer replied. “It’s just that most people have difficulty in accepting the different ways I have, of presenting that sense of sense to the world.”
Hermione gaped until Luna’s words filtered into her brain. She smiled shyly as Luna embraced her again.
They sat in comforting silence until, at last, Luna asked: “Will you tell us what troubles you? Or should I tell you?”
“You can do that? You can read my thoughts?” Hermione was both intrigued at the idea that Luna, of all people, could peek into her head, and horrified at what the odd girl would find.
“In part, but more your feelings. It all works out the same, but it will be rather painful for me. Harry would you ask for a headache potion, please?”
“You’re an empath?” Hermione pondered. “But I thought you were a seer.”
“There’s nothing that says I cannot be both.”
Harry turned to do just as she asked, and as soon as he held the phial filled with the clear blue liquid, Luna closed her eyes, furrowed her brow, and began to speak.
“Ronald does not appreciate you for what you are. He never has. He cannot see you as his equal, because you are a woman, and because you are muggleborne. To him, you are a decoration…a trophy, if you will. Nothing more. In fact, although you are exceptionally intelligent, he expects your ambitions to become just as his mother’s were; to stay at home, wanting nothing more than to tend to dinner and his children. You wish to further your education and explore the world, but you know he won’t have it. He told you once, that when you were married, you’d have to set aside all this ‘foolishness’, and become a ‘proper’ wife, and that the only books you’d need after that, would be cookbooks. You objected and he told you that as the husband, his position would be the only one that counted. You got very angry at that, and hit him.”
Hermione growled as she recalled that particular conversation with the red-headed twit. She also remembered the detention with Madam Pomfrey for breaking his nose. At least she had got some of her own back. She’d also cut him off for a good long while.
“Ronald places a higher priority on almost everything but you. He is forgetful and uncaring of your feelings. He’s forgotten quite a number of things that are important to you and when you call him on it, he simply ignores you, or teases you for being silly…or worse. He casually insults your rearage and your parents and he holds his own blood-status as a banner over you.
You understand deep within, that he only wanted you because that way, the one who truly does love you, could not have you. Your low self-esteem and poor self-image have allowed you to convince yourself that Ronald truly loved you, because no boy ever had before. But that’s not true. There are many who love you and one who loves you with all his heart.
Tonight, however, you’ve decided you’ve had enough of Ronald’s ‘emotional constipation’, I believe you called it, and broke it off with him.”
Luna grimaced at her headache, and accepted the potion Harry held out. She tipped it back and shuddered as the medicine acted. Harry set the phial aside, stood behind Luna and circled his lover with his arms. Luna sighed, closed her eyes and lay her head back against his shoulder for a moment.
Hermione was amazed at how accurate Luna was in recounting her troubles with Ron. Of course, one didn’t need to be a seer, or an empath to know these things…merely a good observer.
“Hermione,” Luna continued. “Like most of us, Ronald is a product of his environment. Where you see archaic inequality, he sees not only the ‘right’ way, but also the ‘only way’. He cannot conceive of another way. He doesn’t have the worldview. Ronald is a pureblood, as am I. You and Harry are not. You are a muggleborne, or if you prefer, a first-generation witch. Harry is halfblood, a combination of one of the most powerful mugglebornes in recent history and one of the more powerful pureblood lines, but he’s been raised by muggles, however poorly they may have done the job. Your modern ideals of sexual equality just do not fit in with the world-view of the majority of the British wizarding world.
While Arthur Weasley is as progressive as my father, in fact they went to school here together, Molly Weasley is anything but. She’s very traditional in most ways. Arthur goes to work, and Molly tends to the home.
Molly Weasley is a powerful witch. She is an expert in potions and charms, but rather than work in the world, she chooses to do as she does. She stays at home and cares for her children.”
“But that’s only because she’s…” Hermione’s eyes popped as she realized what she had been about to say.
“Finish it up, love.” Harry murmured, the endearment warming Hermione from toes, up.
“It’s because that’s the way she’s been trained.” Hermione completed her thought.
“For many generations.” Luna added. “And this is how she’s raised her children. Her ways are their ways. She’s very disappointed in all her sons, because they take after their father in their progression. All except Percival, but then, he’s always been the odd duck. Each of them has managed to escape her influence, except Ronald. William is working for the goblins and has a Veela as a girlfriend. Charlus is in Rumania with his dragons, and if I’m not mistaken, several rather comely local girls. The twins are sharing Katie, Alicia and Angelina, and show no signs of ending what appears to be a very stable relationship anytime soon.”
“But if they can…” Hermione began only to find Luna’s head shaking.
No, Hermione. Remember, this is the only way most purebloods know. A woman is supposed to be subservient to her husband in all things. That’s how the pureblood laws are written. For instance, did you know that a pureblood witch is still expected to enter her wedding bed a virgin, undress her husband and then herself, lie on her back, and then allow her husband to do exactly as he pleased, without protest of any kind, whether she wants what he does, or not.”
“That’s barbaric!” Hermione yelped.
“It’s also the way things are. If a group of women did as you are considering right now, and simply refused to cooperate, their husbands have the legal right to punish them in any manner they see fit…including beating them to death. It’s not right, it’s not fair, but it is the way it is. I’m fortunate that my father is not the mainstream pureblood, else he’d be checking me frequently in order to ensure my hymen was intact. I understand that here at school, Madam Pomfrey, even though she disagrees intensely with the practice, has that duty several times a month, although I believe that in Slytherin house, the job goes to professor Snape.”
Hermione made a disgusted face, and Luna giggled. Then she went on.
“I can see that doesn’t appeal to you, and I can’t say I’d enjoy the process myself, but in the wizarding world, specifically the pureblood one, that’s how things are. While Ronald isn’t in danger, I’d expect poor Ginny has at least been howled at, for allowing Neville to deflower her. That’s why she’s wearing a betrothal ring. It’s the only way to erase the social stigma of an ‘impure’ bride. Because the promise has been made and accepted, the circumstance is overlooked and her virtue is restored. As Harry once put it, Ginny became a ‘born again virgin’. The contraception potions we are given are more for the halfbloods and the mugglebornes, so they can’t get pregnant and claim any of the purebloods’ estates. Being a halfblood and arguably one of the best trained healers in Britain, Madam Pomfrey is more progressive than most, as are professors McGonagall… a pureblood, Sprout, who is also a halfblood, by the bye, and Flitwick who I believe is a Goblin/Human mix, though I can’t prove it. Professor Dumbledore is a bit old fashioned but he also understands the urges we teenagers have. He was the one who forced through the requirement for the contraception potions in the first place, and is willing to face the Board of Governors and even the ministry on this issue.”
Luna could see Hermione was fuming. Once again she placed a gentle finger against the angry brunette’s lips.
“People can learn to adapt, but such adaptation comes very slowly. Evolution does not happen overnight. For instance, it was only about two hundred fifty or so years ago, that witches were allowed to reenter Hogwarts as students, since just after the beginning of the burning times.”
“That’s not in ‘Hogwarts:…”
“…A History’. Yes it is, just not directly. If you looked carefully, you’d see that were no head girls named from 1326 to 1754. There were no head girls then, because during those years, there were no female students. During most of that time, all the girls here at Hogwarts were refugees from the witch trials and the aftermath, more than anything else. It took the repeated, nearly wholesale, ravishing of several hundred witches during the last part of that era before the Council of Governors decided to do anything, and even then it was only because the girl who’d been raped was a pureblood and the daughter of the then-Minister of Magic, and betrothed to a pureblood of old family. As in the muggle world of the time, rape was considered to be more a crime against property, or loss of status, than anything else. Women were considered little more than chattel. In many ways, we still are.
One of the few ‘dark ladies’ in history and one of the most powerful since Morgan le Fay, a Welsh born halfblood, who eventually called herself ‘Jokathraolynn’, began her decline into the dark arts in 1532, as a result of her being repeatedly beaten and ravished by no less than seventeen boys in the arboretum here at Hogwarts. Because she was not a pureblood, and the boys who raped her were, the case was treated very lightly. Only the efforts of an unusually honorable ‘Master of the Aurors’, the precursor to the head of the DMLE, ensured the case was seen at all. It was an unmitigated disaster. The case was tried like a circus, with the judge and jury all being purebloods and all related to the offenders. The victim, who was thirteen at the time, was made to look like a wanton. The newspaper, then, as today, simply parroted the words of the ministry and although she was the victim, she eventually found herself expelled from Hogwarts as ‘an undesirable influence on the wizarding world’.
Her assailants were fined a bit of gold and released, but some years following her rise to power, and on the tenth anniversary of their crimes, all seventeen were found mysteriously hanged by vines in the arboretum, the place of the crime. As a result, she was accused of murder, despite the fact that they clearly deserved their fates, and there was no evidence against her, hunted for the next three decades and eventually killed. The justification for the hunt was that they had been punished by the court already, and therefore were no longer guilty of any crime. That case was also what solidified the pureblood’s hatred for those of mixed blood and especially, mugglebornes.
Even following the last of the witch trials, and the advent of the modern age, it still took almost a hundred years to end the segregation. Even today, witches are thought of as having less real worth than wizards…Madam Bones, notwithstanding.”
“That’s horrible! Something ought to be done about…” Harry gently but firmly placed his finger across Hermione’s lips. Luna began again.
“You’ve just demonstrated one of the major obstacles between you and Ronald. You expect the world to conform to your ideals and do so, right now. Hermione, this world is not ready for such rapid progress. It will take a great deal of time to change what needs to be changed.”
Harry removed his hand and again, Hermione tried to interrupt only to be silenced once more by a finger against her lips. She glared at him and Luna continued.
“I have the patience that you lack. You would insist Ronald accept your views immediately, despite his own feelings. That’s one of your prejudices. Don’t look at me like that, Hermione. We all have our prejudices. Your crusade for house-elves is a case in point. What you don’t seem to realize, or apparently are willing to ignore, is that house-elves must be bonded to a family, or place, or they will die of magical depletion. That’s why they see clothing as such a horrible thing. Since they are so much more in tune with their magic than we are, receiving clothes is a sentence of death, painful and prolonged. In addition, house-elves are a communal species. They rely heavily upon each other in order to retain their sanity. If one is given clothes, he or she, is ostracized by the rest of the community, as the ‘taint of wrongness’ spreads like ripples in a pond. The aloneness also has a great deal to do with why the elf eventually dies, usually going insane along the way.”
“Dobby is a sport. An exception to the norm. The other elves think he’s insane already and really want nothing to do with him. It’s only their shared heritage that keeps them from forcing him away. Oh, by the way, he retains his magic because he’s bonded to Harry. Since Harry tricked Lucius Malfoy into giving Harry’s sock, Dobby bonded to the owner of the sock…Harry.
Your refusal to accept me as an equal is another example of your prejudice. To you, I am still Loony Lovegood. You have gotten better since you began to investigate the psychic arts, but I’m still Harry’s loony girlfriend. I really don’t mind, that you don’t believe in Snorkacks, but you refuse to believe, simply because there is no documented evidence of them. Surely you must realize that to have a name, like Snorkack, which translates roughly to ‘twisted horn’, someone would have to have seen one, at some time in the recent past? You consider yourself to be a scientist, relying on empirical data and repeatable experiments, and yet you are learning to practice magic, something that according to the laws of science, does not and cannot exist.”
Hermione completely dumbfounded as she considered Luna’s words.
“The biggest difference between the two of us is; where you demand instant acceptance, I can wait. I will ensure Ronald is kept happy, and at the same time, I will begin a careful program of behavior modification.”
Done with her lecture, Luna stood and gestured toward the doorway.
“Hermione, we have a nice tub in the other room. Come join us. It’ll relax you.” Luna led the way to the adjoining bath.
Hermione pondered as she stood. Even with her recent acceptance of Luna’s gift, she realised she’d been as horrid to Luna as the Slytherins had been to her. ‘Well, No more!’ She vowed. She would treat Luna as an equal, even if she didn’t agree with her.
“You’re lucky to have such a good friend.” She whispered to Harry.
“Yeah. She’s like a mug of hot chocolate.” Harry replied cryptically. Somehow, Hermione knew exactly what he meant.
Harry took a quick peek into the next room, to see that the boiling cauldron had been replaced with a cedar tub in a calm Japanese setting. He sighed in relief. He was quite certain that Hermione wasn’t ready for that, just then.
Hermione was unsure about disrobing in front of someone with whom she was not sexually involved, but both Luna and Harry were more than comfortable in their skin, and so, simply draped their robes across the cedar rods provided, and turned to her.
“You’re going to need to get undressed, Hermione.” Harry suggested with a smile. “You really shouldn’t bathe in your clothing.”
Hermione stood as if stupefied. The very second Harry’s robe came off and he’d turned to her, her eyes had been riveted to his body, tracing the finely honed muscles there. Her gaze drifted southward and found…
“Ohmigod!” She breathed, clamping her eyes shut. Luna shot Harry a knowing smirk, amused by Hermione’s behavior.
“Come on, Hermione. She whispered. “The water’s waiting, and the aquatic frizznoppers want to help you tame your hair.”
Hermione’s eyes popped opened again at the non sequitur, but seeing that Harry had climbed into the bath she was a bit more in control of her voice.
Hesitantly, Hermione began to peel her clothing off. Harry, knowing how self-conscious she was, turned away until she’d climbed into the bath.
Settling into the hot water, Hermione let out a long sigh of relief. It had been positively ages since she’d been in a spa! The water frothed merrily around her, tickling her skin and puckering her nipples. Embarrassed by the reaction, Hermione sank to her neck in the bubbling water.
Instead of turning away, or otherwise trying to alleviate her embarrassment, Harry and Luna shifted closer to her, Harry on one side, and Luna on the other.
She soon found herself snugly ensconced between two warm, wet bodies, who had nothing better to do than hold her. Relaxing a bit, Hermione let her head fall to the nearest shoulder, which was Harry’s. He responded by tightening his arms around her.
Luna smiled that mysterious smile of hers. She leaned over Hermione and meeting Harry’s lips, kissed him softly.
Hermione watched in fascination as they two kissed. It was chaste and passionate all at the same time. Finally, breaking away from Luna’s talented lips, Harry quietly called for Dobby. As the hyperactive elf arrived, Harry whispered something into his ear. The elf looked uncertain, until Harry whispered again. Then happily nodding his head, Dobby vanished silently.
Hermione had wanted to object on principle, but Harry stilled her by saying: “Dobby works for me, Hermione. I pay him.”
He reappeared with a short white bottle and three fine porcelain cups, each about the size of a small hen’s egg. Harry thanked him and he departed again.
“Hermione, this is Sake`. It’s a Japanese rice wine. I thought it would help you to relax.”
“Mmmm!” Hermione moaned as the steaming water teased her skin. “I’ve had it before. It’s wonderful! But it’s very strong, so be careful, hmmm?”
Harry handed her a cup. Sipping the warm wine, Hermione’s eyes opened widely. This was really good! Even better than the Sake` she’d had on holiday. She sipped again and relaxed into the warm, soothing bubbles.
Time passed, with three friends soaking away their aches, telling stories and drinking the wine.
Hermione was so ‘relaxed’ that Harry and Luna had to help her out of the tub.
“Do you think she’s had too much to drink?” Luna asked.
“I’m not sure.” Harry replied. “How many has she had?”
“Three or four, I think.” Luna giggled. Hermione, swaying slightly, also giggled. “I’ve had three and I am perfectly fine. Thankyouverymuch!” Luna smirked and held up four fingers.
Harry and Luna toweled her off, admiring the shorter witch’s body, as they did.
Hermione’s breasts were heavier and rounder than Luna’s, less tear shaped. Her hips were rounder as well, but with little fat. Her thighs were well toned with the major cuts just barely visible, and her calves swelled and tapered to slender ankles. She had the cutest little bump where her belly met her pubis, her shoulders were strong and well defined, and her body was toned and taut from her years of carrying heavy books up and down the many flights of stairs at Hogwarts, and from her recent study of the martial arts.
Harry cheated a bit and cast a drying charm on Hermione’s hair, and when she was dry, they dried themselves. “I think it’s time for a rub-down.” Luna declared in a no-nonsense manner.
Hermione smiled and softly whispered: “I wouldn’t mind if Harry rubbed me!” Luna caught it. Harry did not.
Quietly insistent, Luna led the nervous and shy Hermione to the large massage table in the next room. Harry followed along.
Hermione lay on the padded bench; her breasts mashed against the yielding surface, reveling in the feel of two sets of hands as they ran up and down her body. Each pair focused on a specific area. Harry worked her shoulders back and arms, while Luna attended her lower back, buttocks, legs and feet. Their slick, warm hands felt like pure heaven against her skin! Hermione felt a sharp pain as strong hands pushed down…just there! An ache she’d had between her shoulder blades for the longest time, eased immediately. She groaned out her thanks. The hands continued their massage. Palms and fingers, larger and smaller, wandered over her body, pressing and prodding as Hermione relaxed. She could catch glimpses of Harry’s well-tuned body, each time he stepped into view.
Despite herself, she caught herself sneaking peeks. She’d often wondered, but would never have dared to ask. Now, she learned that the rumours she’d heard, were true! He may not have been hung like a horse, but what he did have would surely be satisfying! ‘How lucky you are, Luna!’ She thought. Ron was so very proud of his ‘Right Proper Throbber’. He’d be so embarrassed to learn that he was just a bit over the national average. Harry, on the other hand…
Almost an hour of pure bliss followed, before Luna announced: “That’s your back done. Turn over.” Hermione, still self-conscious, hesitated.
“Hermione, both Luna and I have seen you in all your glory. I promise, we won’t do anything you don’t want us to do.” Harry reassured her in a warm and loving tone.
Acceding to the gentle demand, Hermione turned onto her back, and closed her eyes. Her body now wore a healthy flush, making her, to Harry and Luna, even more desirable.
Harry stood behind her head and began on her brow, stroking firmly from center out, then returning to the center, just a bit lower on her face, while Luna gently gripped, pulled, twisted and stroked her toes, one by one, before setting to, on her feet.
Hermione sighed in rapture as she experienced a proper massage from someone who knew what they were doing. The simultaneous stimulation from face and feet, sent frissons of pleasure through her body.
Harry focused on her shoulders now, stroking, kneading and pinching where he couldn’t reach before. When he’d eased the tension there, he eased his hands down and across her torso just as when he’d been working her back. He lightly traced his thumbs across her breasts, eliciting a strangled moan from Hermione. Her nipples stiffened once more. Harry ran his palms down across her belly to her pubic hair, and back up until he cupped her breasts in his hands. Again Hermione moaned, but this time, she didn’t choke it off.
Harry caressed her breasts for a moment before returning to lightly massage the muscles of her belly and her sensitive flanks. Hermione giggled in protest for the tickling, and when she did, Harry would give an extra tickle, just for her. From time to time, he’d return to her breasts, lightly stroking, making her moan again before retreating.
Luna, for her part, had finished Hermione’s feet and legs and was busy working her thighs, pushing and kneading the heavy muscles there.
Hermione didn’t want to compare, but she couldn’t help it. Harry’s actions came from his heart. Ron, on the one occasion he’d given her a massage, as he called it, had simply rubbed her back for a few minutes, had her turn over, mauled her breasts and proceeded to shag her. That she was suffering from cramps that day, didn’t help. It was not at all satisfying to say the very least!
This was when Hermione deciphered Luna’s odd statement: “You understand deep within, that he only wanted you because that way, the one who truly does love you, could not have you. Your low self-esteem and poor self-image allowed you to convince yourself that Ronald truly loved you, because no boy ever had before. But that’s not true. There are many who love you and one who loves you with all his heart.”
“It’s Harry.” She whispered. Both Harry and Luna caught it. “Harry loves me.”
“Yes I do.” Harry brushed his lips across her forehead, then returned to his task.
As Luna’s hands pressed gently on her mons, Hermione instinctively parted her thighs easing Luna’s access. Luna, not wanting to startle her friend just yet, simply brushed across Hermione’s pubic mound and onward.
Harry gently brushed across Hermione’s nipples, with each pass. She didn’t want this to stop, as the pleasure was almost overwhelming and yet she wondered how far she would allow him to go. She was, after all, with Ron…or was she? After the things Ron had done, and hadn’t done…no, she’d made her choice. She was tired of his idiocy. She’d broken it off with him. She would love to be with Harry…but Harry was with Luna, and she…
The hands changed places, with Harry’s slightly larger hands now working Hermione’s legs and lower body while Luna’s more slender fingers continued to torment her breasts, for the first time, they gently pinched her nipples. Hermione screamed softly as the shock traveled through her from nipples to core and back. She lifted her own hand and traced her fingers up and down Luna’s flank.
Hermione felt a pair of lips brush gently, almost as if in a dream, across her own. She opened her eyes to find Luna’s silvery blue, gazing into hers from inches away. Luna closed her eyes and kissed again. Soft petals touched and touched once more. Hermione felt her own lips part, and her jaw open slightly, welcoming the intrusion.
To Hermione, this was what a kiss should have been. Not the awkward grappling Ron did in their broom-cupboard trysts, although she had to admit, there was a time and place for those kisses as well.
As Hermione returned the kiss, she felt the gentlest stroking of her mons. As before, she unconsciously parted her thighs. Unlike Luna, Harry did not ignore the offer. He traced his fingers gently across her nether folds, once, twice, thrice, before seeking another place to touch.
Luna lifted her lips from Hermione’s and gently attacked her right nipple, and then her left. Hermione arched her back, hissing in pleasure as Harry’s fingers continued to place soft, feathery caresses on her hips, belly and thighs. His mouth replaced Luna’s and for the first time in a very long time, Hermione tasted Harry. His kiss was as gentle, as undemanding as Luna’s had been, and yet, there was a component of need, almost desperation, mixed in.
Soon, one hand massaged her inner thighs, while the other teased her moistening petals. Hermione’s knees now lay almost flat on the pad, and she gently rocked her hips as Harry began to stroke her labia a bit more firmly. Luna suckled gently on one nipple, and to Hermione’s surprise, it was her fingers that sought her clit, not Harry’s.
Hermione let out a gasp of pleasure as Luna’s finger found its mark. The touch was electrifying! Hermione shifted her hips to give even more access. Harry lowered his head to her other nipple and soon the two of them were kissing and suckling in time, as Luna’s fingers rolled and rubbed her clit and Harry, gently eased his finger into her core. Hermione almost climaxed right there. Her own hands got into the action then, seeking and finding Luna’s cleft on her right and Harry’s rather impressive erection on the other side.
“Let’s move this to the bed.” Harry suggested. He lifted Hermione in his arms and carried her to the large bed that had appeared. Luna walked with them brushing skin wherever she could.
Once again between her friends, Hermione began to take a more active role in the game. She hooked her fingers and slid them between Luna’s folds, as with the other hand, she circled Harry’s erection, and began to stroke.
Luna soon decided to begin a more direct attack, as it were, and shifted her position to between Hermione’s knees. Harry took over the abandoned breast, carefully dividing his attention between kissing Hermione wherever he could…and kissing her wherever he could.
Already almost there, Hermione trembled with pleasure as Luna’s tongue ever so gently touched her folds. Harry focused on her nipples, nibbling and suckling, pinching and teasing, as Luna set to with a will, tracing arithmantic formulae along Hermione’s labia and ancient runes across her clit. Soon enough, between them both, Hermione screamed into her pillow as she shuddered in climax.
Luna lifted her head from between Hermione’s legs with the smug look usually worn by kneasles who’d gotten into the cream.
Soon it was Harry’s head between her thighs. Hermione cried out in pleasure, again and again, as Harry tenderly but mercilessly assaulted her nether lips. He’d touch and tickle, lick and explore, with each adventure ending directly on her clitoris. Hermione came again, locking her legs around Harry’s head, and bucking for all she was worth. Harry pressed his tongue firmly against her clit until she’d calmed, and then returned to his most pleasurable chore.
Luna lay on her belly, her nicely turned rump next to Hermione’s head, and her head at Harry’s legs. She slowly slid her mouth up and down Harry’s engorged shaft, as he pleasured Hermione. For some reason Luna wondered: ‘If we measure almost everything in the metric system, why do we still measure men’s cocks in inches? And is it Imperial inches, or American?’ Receiving no answer, she shrugging and returned her full attention to the task at hand.
Finally Hermione, shaking her head from side to side in agonizing pleasure, pushed Harry’s face away from her core, crying out: “Mercy!” Harry regretfully abandoned his position between her legs and moved to her side. Luna, losing the object of her affections, as it were, scooted up to lay on Hermione’s other side. They each brushed delicate patterns across Hermione’s breasts, keeping her aroused, but nowhere near to climax.
When Hermione had calmed a bit, Luna said. “It’s time.” Harry lifted himself up on his hands and knees, and crawled up and over the now very happy Hermione. Hermione opened her thighs as widely as she could and shifted her hips so that her soaking wet core was exposed to her soon-to-be lover. Harry settled over her, and whispered: “Are you absolutely sure this is what you want?” In answer, Hermione leaned up and joined her mouth to his, and reached between them seeking his erection, only to find Luna’s hand already there. Together, they guided him into her. “Take me, Harry! I’m yours!” She breathed into his mouth. A pale golden glow surrounded them both. Neither of them saw, but Luna did. She smiled, knowing she’d made the right choice.
The air left Hermione’s throat in a long, drawn-out moan of pleasure as Harry sank into her body. She threw her head back as Harry pulled out and then began his first, tentative thrust. Luna sighed in reminiscence, and moved into a position so as to hold Hermione’s head in her lap. Harry brought his lips up to hers, even as he thrust gently into Hermione. She closed her eyes and savored what would be her last kisses with Harry.
For long minutes, Harry thrust slowly and carefully, giving attention to Luna and Hermione both. Soon, however, he was forced by nature to make a choice. Earth-mother that she was, Luna recognized the signs, and with a final, gentle kiss, backed away from her friend and former lover. Harry smiled sadly at the loss, then turned his full attention to the young woman writhing beneath him.
It wasn’t long before Harry became more intense. His thrustings grew harder, and faster. Hermione gave as well, meeting his hips with hers at every drive. Seconds later, She lost all control. Hermione screamed as her climax overtook her. Her spasms became more pronounced with every thrust Harry made, until she could stand it no more. Inside her body, muscles contracted and relaxed arrhythmically as her climax continued, massaging Harry’s erection in such a manner that he was very glad Luna had taught him how to delay his own climax. He wanted Hermione to be thoroughly satisfied before he allowed himself to come. Rather than fleeing, she clutched Harry desperately to her, wrapping arms and legs tightly around him and shuddering violently until the orgasm ebbed.
Harry, for his part, was amazed. Luna’s climaxes were not like this! Her orgasms were just as intense, but she let Harry know in an entirely different manner. Where Hermione screamed, Luna groaned harshly. She was still a very quiet ‘comer’. She also scratched where Hermione would bite.
When Hermione let him know she was ready to continue, Harry began to thrust once more. He changed his pattern from time to time, and within minutes, had Hermione screaming again. Luna watched in fascination as her friends continued their love-play. She usually could handle two or three orgasms before wanting to take a break, but Hermione had had four since they’d begun, and was now about to start on an fifth. She also knew Harry’s capabilities, and figured this would end it for him as well…at least for the moment.
Harry rolled over onto his back, pulling Hermione on top to straddle him. She rested her palms on his chest and began to rock. Hermione felt herself being deliciously filled as she shifted her hips in time to the soft music coming from an invisible source.
Ron had never allowed this before. He’d insisted that as the man, he was supposed to stay ‘on top of things’, as it were. Unlike Ron, Harry was content to allow her to find her own climax, on her own terms. As Harry had done before, Hermione leaned over and kissed Luna gently but thoroughly, in thanks, and more.
This time, when she went over the edge, Harry went with her, filling her with his essence. Hermione literally squealed as she felt the pulses of his seed entering her body. Once again, the glow surrounded them. This time it was much stronger as their magic’s met and meshed. Now, they truly belonged to each other.
Wearing a wistful smile, Luna watched the two lovers achieve their mutual crescendo’s.
Sated, Hermione lay upon Harry’s chest, closed her eyes, and soon drifted into sleep. Harry, breathing heavily, stroked his lover’s damp chestnut hair, while murmuring loving words into her ear.
Luna knew it was time for her to leave, so, laying her hand on Harry’s forehead, she murmured a spell, and sent Harry following Hermione into the welcoming arms of Morpheus.
Luna softly closed the door behind her, and blinked back a tear. She was saddened that her brief relationship with Harry was done, but happy he would finally have the person who meant the most to him. Perhaps the world would be safe, after all.
Her task now, was to convince Ron that he’d be happier with her than with anyone else.
Sensing something odd, she looked around. There, down the corridor, she saw a barely visible image of someone she knew quite well.
“Hello Headmaster.” She called.
An astonished Albus Dumbledore canceled the invisibility spell he’d been using, to stare at Luna in open shock. In the fourty years he’d been headmaster, and in the seventy he’d been at the school, he’d never before been caught out, although a few previous students had come close. The wards here had alerted him to the sexual activity and he wanted to know which couple it was…in case there were…difficulties. Now, seeing Luna Lovegood leaving the Room of Requirement, along with what the portraits had reported earlier in the evening, he understood.
“They are together, then?” He queried.
“They are. I think they will be very happy with each other.”
“And what of young Ronald? He is sure to be crushed to find his lover in the arms of another. He is prone to jealousy, and has quite the temper, you know.”
“Leave that to me. Ronald was never suited for Hermione. I think he’d be much happier with me. Yes, he’s got some raw edges, but with time, I can groom him into something more presentable, and frankly, I think his hair complements mine.”
Dumbledore stared at Luna, then managed to stammer: “Yes…well…carry on then, is all I can say.”
As the odd Ravenclaw departed, Albus once again considered taking his brother’s advice, and retiring. Or at least, taking a long and well-deserved holiday.
Luna entered the Gryffindor common room, bearing a large tome, bound in leather and titled in gold leaf. She immediately spied a now-showered and robed Ron arguing Quidditch strategies with Jack Sloper.
None of the Gryffindors were surprised to see Luna there, as she was commonly in the company of Harry Potter. They’d been rather shocked that the ‘Green eyed Quidditch God’ as he’d been named, had been snagged by such an unlikely person as Loony Lovegood, but as one wit had commented: “There’s no accounting for taste.” Soon enough the odd couple had been accepted by Gryffindors and Ravenclaws alike. The Hufflepuffs stood solidly behind them, even those girls who would have preferred that his choice had been themselves, and the Slytherins, for the most part, sneered at both. Draco Malfoy, in particular, took great pleasure in attempting to torment the couple, usually to his detriment. Often, he’d be found wandering the castle after such insults, in a state of shock or confusion, sometimes dressed in clothing more suited to a circus, a drag show or a brothel, and on a few occasions, completely naked.
Setting the heavy book down, Luna asked: “Jack? May I borrow that?” She pointed to the beater’s bat lying on the sofa next to Sloper.
“Umm…sure.” Sloper surrendered the metal-banded mahogany club. Luna held the bat up to her face, and began to whisper loving words as she stroked it with a sensuality that quickly had half the boys, and not a few of the girls present, shifting uncomfortably.
Suddenly, with a whip-fast stroke, Luna brought the truncheon across the back of Ron’s head. The Gryffindor keeper fell instantly. Gasps of shock and not a few screams, sounded throughout the tower as the Gryffindor’s realized what Luna had done.
Luna murmured: “Thank you.” and handed the bat back to the thoroughly stunned Sloper. She muttered a lightening charm, picked up her book, and grabbing a handful of Weasley-red hair, dragged Ron out through the portrait hole.
Minerva McGonagall stared in shock, down the now-empty corridor. Moments before, she’d seen Luna Lovegood of Ravenclaw house, dancing along the hallway, dragging an unconscious Ronald Weasley of her own Gryffindors, by his hair! The odd blond held a large tome in her other arm, and was humming an oddly familiar tune. Minerva mentally reviewed the brief conversation she’d had with Luna.
“Miss Lovegood? Whatever are you doing?”
“Oh, Good evening, Professor. I’m teaching. Good night.” And with those few words, Luna had departed with her unconscious victim, leaving a thoroughly baffled witch behind her.
Albus Dumbledore approached his deputy headmistress, and coughed gently.
“Albus!” Minerva stammered. “What on Earth has happened? I just saw Miss Lovegood handling mister Weasley like the proverbial caveman!”
“Ah.” The elder wizard replied. “I thought as much. Perhaps we should adjourn to my office for a nice brandy, and discuss this latest development.” He gently took Minerva by the elbow and guided her through the corridors.
In an unused classroom, carefully transfigured to resemble a Bedouin tent, Luna, dressed only in the scarves of a dancer, awakened her captive, who she’d garbed as a sheik.
“Hello, Ronald.” She arranged her filmy scarves to their best advantage and sat, cross-legged, incidentally positioning her thin blond thatch directly in his sight. Ron’s eyes opened wide as she began to read from the huge tome she propped against a pillow.
“Good evening, Ronald. I want you to pay close attention, because what I am about to impart to you is very important. Tonight, we will be discussing the Kama Sutra.”
“Ron only heard the words: ‘good’, ‘close’, ‘you’ and ‘Kama’, as he couldn’t break his eyes away from the little pink nipples that peaked through the gauzy crimson silk.
“Kama Sutra is meant for lovers to thoroughly explore and enjoy their bodies, hearts and souls, and those of their partners…”
Monday morning came, and the school was recovering from the annual bout of peculiarity that seemed to accompany every Valentine’s Day. Harry and a rather tender Hermione, met up with Luna in the great hall, and noticed that someone was missing.
“Luna” Harry asked. “Have you seen Ron?”
“Oh, yes.” Luna replied with the look of a canary-filled kneasle. “He’s quite beautiful, you know.”
She sat at the Gryffindor table and took a scone. Humming ‘Weasley is our King!’ She sliced through it; spread butter on one half in the shape of a smiling face, and on the other in the form of a frown. Between sips of tea, she took dainty bites, first from the smile and then from the frown.
“Luna…” Harry tried again, hoping for a more informative answer. “I meant have you seen Ron…today?” Unfortunately the answer he got wasn’t much better.
“MmmHmmm!” Isn’t he so yummy? I mean he is just the most precious thing when he’s asleep and…”
“Luna” Hermione interrupted. She almost never did that, as it ran counter to her early training, but she knew that if she were to allow Luna to wander off on one of her tangents, the primary question would never be answered. “When and where, was the last time you saw Ron?”
“Oh that. I left him in the hospital wing, this morning.” Luna replied happily.
“What’s he doing in the hospital wing?” Hermione asked.
“Recovering. He really is quite sore. I thought it best for Madam Pomfrey to give him some muscle relaxants and maybe a few painkillers.”
Harry, who knew from experience just how ‘intense’ Luna’s lovemaking could get, winced in sympathy.
The very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, END!
A/N: Ron is not intentionally cruel. He is simply undisciplined. He allows his thoughts of what is the way to do things, to guide him. Unfortunately, given the rather medieval way Mrs. Weasley deals with whatever she doesn’t like, it’s quite likely he has never had any instruction a to how to treat a girl. His sexual education was probably limited to “keep it dry!” In the Weasley household, this sort of attitude is supported and fostered by both Molly and Arthur, albeit in different manners. Arthur appears to be more willing to try the new, but he does not control the Weasley household, Molly does. This is borne out in Book two, where he meekly submits to Molly’s temper after the boys rescue Harry from #4. Again in Book four during the embarrassment by Skeeter. Molly goes off on Hermione, castigating her because of Skeeter’s unsupported innuendo, and Arthur does nothing to correct his overbearing wife. (This, despite the fact that the wizarding world seems to be mired in the eighteenth century wherein a man is the king and his wife the servant.) Even after the truth is discovered, Molly attempts to justify and minimize her actions, rather than own up to the fact that she screwed up…badly. No apology was ever forthcoming. In book five this action is repeated, Molly does her considerable best to drive a wedge between Harry and Sirius. Arthur does nothing. In book sux, Hermione recalls that Molly had once described how she used a love potion on Arthur ‘to help direct him’. Urgh?
With role models such as these, and with his innate inferiority complex, Ron is certain to become someone who feels he is ‘owed this’. I’ve seen this many times as a police officer, and each time the responsibility lies with the parents, and sometimes the grandparents. With Molly’s training in domestic control, she’s sure to pass her judgmental ways on to her children.
For those who want to take me to task for the size of Harry’s ‘endowment’, the recorded national average in Britain is 5 ½ inches long by 1 ¼ across…so there!