Categories > Books > Harry Potter > The Afterlife and Times of Myrtle Potter
Chapter 8: Coming Together at Last
Author's Notes: Please note the change in rating, this is now a NC-17 story. Another big thanks goes out to my faithful best beta, Great Writer Sarah, you are the best!
"Public flogging? Castration? Isn't that, um - forgive me Judge Vance, but isn't that medieval?" Harry asked.
"If by that you mean 'barbaric,' then yes, I'd have to agree." Vance answered. "Remember Harry, in a magical community such as ours it's all too easy for a young man to take whatever he wants from a girl - or a boy for that matter. Love potions, imperius curses, even the casual use of memory charms can get the man whatever he wants. Once the crime is discovered, the culprit faces the wrath of the victim's family. As a father and a grandfather I can tell you that I would have no compunction about meting out justice to someone who raped a member of my family."
Harry nodded, thinking he could begin to understand; the judge knew it was difficult.
"Harry, you've grown up mostly in the muggle world, yes? It may surprise you to know that I spent over thirty years before the bar in the Bailey in London."
Harry was surprised that a magical justice would have such an extensive muggle resume.
"In a case like Malfoy's it would have taken a minimum of two years before it could have been adjudicated; two years, during which time solicitors and barristers would have done all they could to get the case thrown out on some technicality, or the accuser would have had to produce testimony before hostile witnesses for the defense."
"Yeah," Harry agreed, "I've seen that on the telly."
"Well, sometimes even the BBC gets it right. Point is, magical justice is swift, too swift at times, and wartime rules apply here, which means a culprit can be arrested in the morning and begin his sentence by mid-afternoon. This time around we are making sure every one of those accused receives a trial by the judicial arm of the Wizengamot."
Harry was reminded of his godfather's imprisonment without a trial within hours of his alleged crime.
"But very effective. Son, there are very real consequences for actions taken in our world, and all who live here must accept that. Mr. Malfoy chose his fate the moment he forced himself on his victim."
"These are things that a muggleborn or muggle-raised witch or wizard needs to know," Harry mused, "I wonder why there are no orientation classes for us when we first arrive in Hogwarts? I mean having a muggleborn take a class called 'Muggle Studies' is next to useless, right?"
"Harry, I'm just on my way to dinner. Join me? It'll give us a chance to talk more."
"Happy to sir. Um, where are we going?"
"Number Five Cavendish Square, Oxford Circus. You have your apparations license, yes? Good, good."
They arrived at a ministry designated apparation point just behind Number Five. Judge Vance had the roasted black cod with steamed wild rice and scallops and Harry had the rack of lamb with braised augergines, polenta and black truffle. After dinner they settled back over a nice cup of tea.
"Judge Vance, can we talk about the Kissed?" Harry asked.
"Yes, tragic thing that, all those defenders . . ."
"Yes sir. I understand you sentenced Ginny Weasley to care for them."
"Yes, it was her own idea, and I found that she had not willingly taken the mark, but she did have it so my choices were somewhat limited. She gave me a way to keep her out of Azkaban, and for that I'm grateful."
"Sir, she and I have an idea concerning the Death Eaters who were kissed."
The judge's eyebrows went up to his hairline.
"If I understand correctly, a person who has been dementor-kissed is well, like a blank slate, right?"
The judge nodded.
"So, why send them to Azkaban?"
The judge seemed to ponder. "Y'know Harry, you're not the first person to have suggested this, but in the past the crimes of the Kissed have been so numerous and so heinous that the public demanded life sentences on top of the Kiss. But if you're not averse to using your current celebrity status . . ."
"If you think I can help in this I will, sir."
"Well the judiciary session of the Wizengamot will be in session for the remainder of this week. Beginning Monday, we will begin the Legislative session and at that time you may present your arguments on behalf of the Kissed of Azkaban."
"Thank you sir," Harry said as they both got up to leave. "Can you tell me where I can find Miss Weasley? I'd like for her to help me prepare my arguments."
"She'll be in a holding cell in the criminal ward of St. Mungo's when she's not tending to the kissed."
As Harry walked from the ministry building toward Diagon Alley that evening he witnessed celebrations of the likes he'd never seen before. Shooting stars, fireworks in general, spontaneous parties and general merrymaking were the order of the day - or rather the night. The jubilation over the final solution to the Voldemort problem combined with the sudden disappearance of the dementors meant that everyone, wizard and muggle alike, felt really good for the first time in nearly a year. The bleak mood that had gripped the country since the previous summer was broken.
Harry almost hexed a nurse when she grabbed him by the shoulders, spun him around, and roundly kissed him in the middle of High Street. When they came up for air, the pretty nurse said, "War's finally over darlin', now lets get on with the livin'!"
He chuckled at that as he passed through the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron. He had no sooner entered the pub when he had a tall glass of stout thrust into his hands by none other than Tom the barman who said, "Tonight, drinks are on the house!"
No one seemed to notice that Harry Potter himself - the Once Again Savior of the Wizarding World - was in their midst and he was all right with that. With his slightly longer hair hiding his scar and his lack of glasses - apparently Lady Ravenclaw's jewel had healed his eyes - he was enjoying a bit of anonymity. He found himself wondering where that pretty nurse had gone off to.
So it was after tipping a few pints in the pub that Harry, who looked a little like Harry Potter but that was just a co-ink-a-dink, um, co-in-sa-, um just one of those things; anyway Harry stumbled into the Alley to an even bigger, more raucous party going on in the street. The Weasley twins seemed to have emptied their stock of fireworks as Roman candles, rockets, pinwheels, Catherine's wheels and seriously persistent sparklers were lighting the streets of Diagon Alley to the joy and general merriment of all.
This was a world that had stood on the brink of oblivion; now there were celebrations of life going on all around them. The Weasleys were celebrating the engagement of George and Padma; Fred was seriously chatting up Parvati, looking like he was about to go down on one knee at any moment. Neither Suman nor Abhilasha Patil seemed thrilled but their daughters had politely refused their Indian suitors and, in truth, could find no good reason for not adding the Weasleys to the Patil bloodline. Love was definitely in the air, and people were pairing off and disappearing to wherever people disappear to when they want to get to know each other better.
Harry saw soft curves and bright eyes all around him, and he'd been chatted up by a continuous stream of hopefuls who asked if he was indeed the famous Harry Potter. He apologized for his accidental resemblance and turned to the next hopeful only to be lost in chestnut brown eyes and a full head of bushy brunette hair.
"Har-"
Harry shushed his bushy haired best friend and said, "Nope, sorry, you've got the wrong guy. I just look a bit like him, I've been told."
"Thas' okay, someone said I look just like that Granger girl, s' funny innit?" she said with a conspiratorial wink.
Harry focused on the girl through his inebriated eyes and swore the resemblance was uncanny.
"Um, why don't we get away from all this noise and find out who we are?"
"Sounds great to me," Harry agreed.
They passed out of Diagon Alley and stumbled, mostly from trying to support each other, through the Leaky Cauldron.
"Steady on there, now there's a happy couple, have a drink, here's to youth and romance and all that goes with it, drink up, drink up. . ."
They stumbled out the door onto the equally raucous London street and one of them, they weren't quite sure, stuck out his or her wand, or maybe it was each other's wands. Well anyway, the Knight Bus banged into existence, screeching to a halt sideways at the entrance to the cauldron.
"Ernie, are you okay t' drive?"
"Course I am, haven't touched a drop, but not too many other folks are abstainin' just now. Takin' your life in your hands t' be on the road tonight!"
"Press on mate, press on . . . Stan?"
Stan Shunpike was grinning from ear to ear. "Yep, tis' meself. Back on the bus with more'n a years worth of back pay burnin' a hole in me pocket!"
He assisted the young couple onto the bus and said, "Where to?"
Harry thought for a moment. "Grim Old Place, um number eleven or thirteen or sumat."
"Grimauld place it is, take er' away Ernie!"
With a bang and several crashes (from the sound of several dustbins literally jumping out of the triple-decker's path) the Knight Bus gamboled into the night.
The bus came to an almost sane stop in front of Number Eleven and Stan called out, "Grimauld Place!"
The young couple stepped carefully off the steps, trying to appear composed and sober, but when the brunette stumbled on the cobblestone street and fell against Harry, they both snorted in the beginnings of a snorting, chortling jag.
"Number Twelve Grimauld Place!" Harry called out and the townhouse appeared, elbowing numbers ten and fourteen out of the way as it settled itself comfortably between them. It took three tries before the besotted couple could make it to the top of the four steps and the landing. They burst through the front door and nearly knocked over the little old man who was standing just behind the door. They were about to apologize when the man faded from sight and the mirth descended upon them anew.
Harry and his curly haired companion laughed themselves out and found that they were nose to nose. She was backed up against the wall while he had a hand on either side of her head, leaning in toward her flushed face. She cupped his hands in her own and whispered a brief incantation that made him feel very warm, very /welcome/. He thought he could easily get lost in those deep brown eyes as they gravitated toward each other. Their lips touched, soft and moist, then she plastered her soft warm body against his and pressed her lips tightly against his. He touched the tip of his tongue to her lips, seeking entry and she parted her lips slightly so that he could touch her teeth with the tip of his tongue. She opened herself up further and soon they were tongue wrestling as she worked the buttons on his shirt. She made a frantic noise as the buttons frustrated her and she simply pulled the shirt open popping half the buttons in her impatience to feel skin.
His left hand was in her hair, reveling in the softness there while his right hand caressed her back and side. She pulled her shirttail out of her skirt and directed his hand under the fabric, placing it on the underside of her sheer bra.
"I don't think," he started to say when she stopped him with a quick passionate kiss.
"Don't think, feel," she insisted as she brought his other hand down to rest on her other breast and then proceeded to try to find his tonsils.
She pulled back just long enough to say, "Bedroom, now!"
He picked her up and nearly ran to the second floor master where he placed her gently down on the king-sized mattress. Neither one saw the door close silently behind them. Nor did either one of them register that the room was lit by the soft light of the Ever-Lit candles. They only had eyes, lips, fingertips and tongues for each other.
"I love you Herm - mumph," he said as she kissed him roundly.
"I will always love you Harry," she countered.
She was lying atop him, her head over his left shoulder breathing heavily against his neck while his hand roamed over her back, coming to rest on her bum. She thrust her hips against him eliciting an impressive response as 'little Harry' rose to the occasion.
They both groaned at the sensations. Harry found the button and zipper on the side of her skirt and was able unfasten then unzip same which allowed him to push the skirt over her knickers-clad bum. The sensible cotton briefs were soft to his touch and he massaged her nicely rounded buttocks for a while as she continued to grind against him. She groaned again as he slipped his fingers under the elastic waistband to caress her warm, pliant skin.
"Don't move my love," she insisted as she rolled off him so that she could divest herself of her skirt and knickers. She snuggled up to his side so that she could trace his hardness through his trousers. She unbuttoned then unzipped the interfering garment then tugged at the sides of his boxers and slacks. He got the hint and bowed slightly up so that she could clear his bum and free his rather impressive erection from its durance vile.
They were both more than a little impatient so the concept of unlacing shoes escaped them. Oh well, all she really needed to do was to pull him over her - his legs could stay together, hers needed room to spread.
With one smooth movement she slid her leg over his recumbent form and straddled his waist. She had to raise up as high as she could on her knees to place the tip of his member at her warm, wet entrance, then she pushed back, welcoming him into her inner folds. They both groaned as they bottomed out, pubic bones touching.
She realized that this was what she had been living for from the time she first saw him, to join their hearts, their bodies, their magic. She squeezed his length with the muscles of her abdomen as she rose up, then came crashing down on him again and again and again.
He felt the familiar pressure building from the base of his erection and grabbed her hips, holding her slightly up as he took the initiative and began pistoning from below. The rhythm of their smack, smack, smacking and his animalistic grunts harmonized with her continuously rising keening wail until they both exploded in a mutual, magical orgasm that literally rocked their world.
The simultaneous release of hormones, adoration and soul-binding enchantments overwhelmed them, and she leaned forward to lie comfortably on his chest and began to snore daintily.
Thus it was the next morning that the young couple found themselves, naked from the waist down, still joined. He had never really gone soft in the night and she had never released him; indeed Harry's member had awakened long before he did and his instinctive rocking recommenced the intimate dance of the ages as his companion purred contentedly.
The folded duvet at the base of the bed unfolded itself to gently cover the two lovers as a sound, as from someone clearing his throat came from the open doorway.
They both froze, mid-stroke. Harry looked quizzically at a small old man in a well tailored butler's uniform.
"I'm sorry, sir, miss," the old elf started, "but can you tell me who the master of this house is?"
"Um, that would be me," the bewildered teen answered.
"Very well sir, I am directed to give you this," and the old butler placed a sealed envelope on the night stand. "I shall be waiting in the dining room, keeping your breakfasts warm."
Harry looked at his lover and said, "Hermione?"
"Um, hum," she murmured.
"Are you, um, all right with this?"
"Less talk, more fuck," she insisted as her hips drove down and backward.
Harry's conscience was by then effectively torpedoed by her warm, slick, wet insistence and all he wanted to do was comply.
He threw off the duvet, flipped her onto her back and laughed at the state of his undress, shirt torn open, pants down around his knees, shoes still on, while she looked fully dressed in her proper white starched blouse until his eyes traveled down to where they were both naked below the waist and joined as they had been all night.
Balancing on one arm Harry unbuttoned the blouse to expose Hermione's simple white bra. She looked so beautiful that he leaned down and kissed her as he began to thrust in earnest. She met him, push for push, thrust for thrust as he plunged faster and faster.
"Oh yes!" she screamed "right there, do that, oh Gawd! Oh fuck me, fuck me, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuck meeeeeee!"
"Here it comes 'Mione, take it all arrrggggghhhhh!" he growled as he emptied himself into her for the umpteenth time that morning.
He collapsed on top of her, careful to keep most of his weight on his elbows and together they began to laugh.
After a few minutes he rose up on both arms and smirked. "Who would have thought such a prim, proper, studious girl could talk so dirty?"
She grinned in return and said "It worked, didn't it. Have you ever come so hard in your life?"
"Hermione, my 'Mione, I can swear a wizard's oath that I've never come so hard before." He looked a little abashed, "I only hope you were able to get off at least a little."
"No worries there Harry, but you have to tell me her name so I can thank her."
"Who?"
"Who ever it was that taught you to make love like a stallion!"
"Um, her name is Hermione Jane Granger."
She looked incredulous, "You don't have to tell me that. It's none of my business who you've been sleeping, or rather not sleeping with."
"I swear by my magic that you are my first."
"Harry!"
A blue light surrounded him and was instantly absorbed back into his magical core.
"What?"
She frantically scrambled for her wand, or better yet, his wand. She was just able to reach it on the night stand and handed it to him.
"Cast a spell, quick!"
"Um, accio buttons."
The missing buttons on his shirt flew from the tiny space under the bedroom door and into his outstretched hand.
"Harry, don't you dare swear on your magic for something like that! What if one of those round-heels at school had gotten to you already, then obliviated you? You would be a squib now!"
"I didn't think of that."
She breathed a sigh of relief. "I'll always believe you Harry. You don't have to swear to me, ever!"
"Made my point though, din't I?"
"Yes you did. I'm sorry you thought I doubted you." She looked deep into his eyes. "I really am your first, and you just about wore me out. I can see I'm going to need to get into shape - when you get a bit more practice in I may not survive it!"
"Are you hungry at all?" he asked.
"Oh, I think you've filled me quite nicely, thank you."
"I mean food."
"What, never heard of livin' on love?"
"I do, y'know," he said.
"What's that, Harry?" she asked, and then let out a startled gasp as she looked into his eyes and saw the depth of feeling there.
"I love you," he said, simply, sincerely, honestly.
"And I meant it when I said I'll always love you, Harry."
He rolled off her and for the first time since their first time he withdrew from her, eliciting a disappointed groan from his lover.
"You sound like someone just took your kitten away," he smirked.
"No, your kitty is just disappointed that you've left her."
"My kitty?"
"Sounds so much nicer than pussy" she smirked, then groaned. "Can you accio a couple of flannels please, I feel like I'm sloshing here."
"Funny you should say that," he laughed, lying back on his back. "You feel full and I feel drained!"
She gave him an evil grin "Oh yeah?" then straddled his belly so copious amounts of the fluid he'd deposited inside her began to drain out onto him.
"Ah, ewww girl slime!" He laughed and cringed at the same time.
She gleefully slid back and forth on his belly and chest leaving a slimy snail trail as she did.
"Now will you summon a flannel or two?" she smirked.
"Accio wet flannel, accio warm towel!"
She caught the wet and dry terry-cloths and first cleaned him before catching the remainder of his spunk in the wet flannel. Then she dried him and kissed him roundly.
"How about a shower before breakfast?"
"You go first," he said. "I'll join you in a moment."
She padded off to the shower as Harry appreciated the view - my, but she had a magnificent arse!
He reached down to untie his shoes then removed his socks before kicking off his trousers; then, fully naked, he followed Hermione into the bathroom where the shower was already running. He grinned, thinking of her under the warm spray, all wet and soft and soapy and carefully drew back the curtain to see Hermione sitting on the floor of the shower, crying.
"Oh Harry," she wailed, "I just know I'm going to Hell!"
_____ooo000ooo_____
The scene where the nurse kisses Harry is my tip of the hat to one of the most famous kisses of the 20th century, for millions of Americans; Alfred Eisenstaedt's 1945 LIFE photograph of a sailor stamping a masterly kiss on a nurse symbolized the cathartic joy of V-J Day; You just know a lot of people got lucky that day . . .
I figured turnabout was fair play so I made the lady the kisser and Harry the kissee.
Author's Notes: Please note the change in rating, this is now a NC-17 story. Another big thanks goes out to my faithful best beta, Great Writer Sarah, you are the best!
"Public flogging? Castration? Isn't that, um - forgive me Judge Vance, but isn't that medieval?" Harry asked.
"If by that you mean 'barbaric,' then yes, I'd have to agree." Vance answered. "Remember Harry, in a magical community such as ours it's all too easy for a young man to take whatever he wants from a girl - or a boy for that matter. Love potions, imperius curses, even the casual use of memory charms can get the man whatever he wants. Once the crime is discovered, the culprit faces the wrath of the victim's family. As a father and a grandfather I can tell you that I would have no compunction about meting out justice to someone who raped a member of my family."
Harry nodded, thinking he could begin to understand; the judge knew it was difficult.
"Harry, you've grown up mostly in the muggle world, yes? It may surprise you to know that I spent over thirty years before the bar in the Bailey in London."
Harry was surprised that a magical justice would have such an extensive muggle resume.
"In a case like Malfoy's it would have taken a minimum of two years before it could have been adjudicated; two years, during which time solicitors and barristers would have done all they could to get the case thrown out on some technicality, or the accuser would have had to produce testimony before hostile witnesses for the defense."
"Yeah," Harry agreed, "I've seen that on the telly."
"Well, sometimes even the BBC gets it right. Point is, magical justice is swift, too swift at times, and wartime rules apply here, which means a culprit can be arrested in the morning and begin his sentence by mid-afternoon. This time around we are making sure every one of those accused receives a trial by the judicial arm of the Wizengamot."
Harry was reminded of his godfather's imprisonment without a trial within hours of his alleged crime.
"But very effective. Son, there are very real consequences for actions taken in our world, and all who live here must accept that. Mr. Malfoy chose his fate the moment he forced himself on his victim."
"These are things that a muggleborn or muggle-raised witch or wizard needs to know," Harry mused, "I wonder why there are no orientation classes for us when we first arrive in Hogwarts? I mean having a muggleborn take a class called 'Muggle Studies' is next to useless, right?"
"Harry, I'm just on my way to dinner. Join me? It'll give us a chance to talk more."
"Happy to sir. Um, where are we going?"
"Number Five Cavendish Square, Oxford Circus. You have your apparations license, yes? Good, good."
They arrived at a ministry designated apparation point just behind Number Five. Judge Vance had the roasted black cod with steamed wild rice and scallops and Harry had the rack of lamb with braised augergines, polenta and black truffle. After dinner they settled back over a nice cup of tea.
"Judge Vance, can we talk about the Kissed?" Harry asked.
"Yes, tragic thing that, all those defenders . . ."
"Yes sir. I understand you sentenced Ginny Weasley to care for them."
"Yes, it was her own idea, and I found that she had not willingly taken the mark, but she did have it so my choices were somewhat limited. She gave me a way to keep her out of Azkaban, and for that I'm grateful."
"Sir, she and I have an idea concerning the Death Eaters who were kissed."
The judge's eyebrows went up to his hairline.
"If I understand correctly, a person who has been dementor-kissed is well, like a blank slate, right?"
The judge nodded.
"So, why send them to Azkaban?"
The judge seemed to ponder. "Y'know Harry, you're not the first person to have suggested this, but in the past the crimes of the Kissed have been so numerous and so heinous that the public demanded life sentences on top of the Kiss. But if you're not averse to using your current celebrity status . . ."
"If you think I can help in this I will, sir."
"Well the judiciary session of the Wizengamot will be in session for the remainder of this week. Beginning Monday, we will begin the Legislative session and at that time you may present your arguments on behalf of the Kissed of Azkaban."
"Thank you sir," Harry said as they both got up to leave. "Can you tell me where I can find Miss Weasley? I'd like for her to help me prepare my arguments."
"She'll be in a holding cell in the criminal ward of St. Mungo's when she's not tending to the kissed."
As Harry walked from the ministry building toward Diagon Alley that evening he witnessed celebrations of the likes he'd never seen before. Shooting stars, fireworks in general, spontaneous parties and general merrymaking were the order of the day - or rather the night. The jubilation over the final solution to the Voldemort problem combined with the sudden disappearance of the dementors meant that everyone, wizard and muggle alike, felt really good for the first time in nearly a year. The bleak mood that had gripped the country since the previous summer was broken.
Harry almost hexed a nurse when she grabbed him by the shoulders, spun him around, and roundly kissed him in the middle of High Street. When they came up for air, the pretty nurse said, "War's finally over darlin', now lets get on with the livin'!"
He chuckled at that as he passed through the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron. He had no sooner entered the pub when he had a tall glass of stout thrust into his hands by none other than Tom the barman who said, "Tonight, drinks are on the house!"
No one seemed to notice that Harry Potter himself - the Once Again Savior of the Wizarding World - was in their midst and he was all right with that. With his slightly longer hair hiding his scar and his lack of glasses - apparently Lady Ravenclaw's jewel had healed his eyes - he was enjoying a bit of anonymity. He found himself wondering where that pretty nurse had gone off to.
So it was after tipping a few pints in the pub that Harry, who looked a little like Harry Potter but that was just a co-ink-a-dink, um, co-in-sa-, um just one of those things; anyway Harry stumbled into the Alley to an even bigger, more raucous party going on in the street. The Weasley twins seemed to have emptied their stock of fireworks as Roman candles, rockets, pinwheels, Catherine's wheels and seriously persistent sparklers were lighting the streets of Diagon Alley to the joy and general merriment of all.
This was a world that had stood on the brink of oblivion; now there were celebrations of life going on all around them. The Weasleys were celebrating the engagement of George and Padma; Fred was seriously chatting up Parvati, looking like he was about to go down on one knee at any moment. Neither Suman nor Abhilasha Patil seemed thrilled but their daughters had politely refused their Indian suitors and, in truth, could find no good reason for not adding the Weasleys to the Patil bloodline. Love was definitely in the air, and people were pairing off and disappearing to wherever people disappear to when they want to get to know each other better.
Harry saw soft curves and bright eyes all around him, and he'd been chatted up by a continuous stream of hopefuls who asked if he was indeed the famous Harry Potter. He apologized for his accidental resemblance and turned to the next hopeful only to be lost in chestnut brown eyes and a full head of bushy brunette hair.
"Har-"
Harry shushed his bushy haired best friend and said, "Nope, sorry, you've got the wrong guy. I just look a bit like him, I've been told."
"Thas' okay, someone said I look just like that Granger girl, s' funny innit?" she said with a conspiratorial wink.
Harry focused on the girl through his inebriated eyes and swore the resemblance was uncanny.
"Um, why don't we get away from all this noise and find out who we are?"
"Sounds great to me," Harry agreed.
They passed out of Diagon Alley and stumbled, mostly from trying to support each other, through the Leaky Cauldron.
"Steady on there, now there's a happy couple, have a drink, here's to youth and romance and all that goes with it, drink up, drink up. . ."
They stumbled out the door onto the equally raucous London street and one of them, they weren't quite sure, stuck out his or her wand, or maybe it was each other's wands. Well anyway, the Knight Bus banged into existence, screeching to a halt sideways at the entrance to the cauldron.
"Ernie, are you okay t' drive?"
"Course I am, haven't touched a drop, but not too many other folks are abstainin' just now. Takin' your life in your hands t' be on the road tonight!"
"Press on mate, press on . . . Stan?"
Stan Shunpike was grinning from ear to ear. "Yep, tis' meself. Back on the bus with more'n a years worth of back pay burnin' a hole in me pocket!"
He assisted the young couple onto the bus and said, "Where to?"
Harry thought for a moment. "Grim Old Place, um number eleven or thirteen or sumat."
"Grimauld place it is, take er' away Ernie!"
With a bang and several crashes (from the sound of several dustbins literally jumping out of the triple-decker's path) the Knight Bus gamboled into the night.
The bus came to an almost sane stop in front of Number Eleven and Stan called out, "Grimauld Place!"
The young couple stepped carefully off the steps, trying to appear composed and sober, but when the brunette stumbled on the cobblestone street and fell against Harry, they both snorted in the beginnings of a snorting, chortling jag.
"Number Twelve Grimauld Place!" Harry called out and the townhouse appeared, elbowing numbers ten and fourteen out of the way as it settled itself comfortably between them. It took three tries before the besotted couple could make it to the top of the four steps and the landing. They burst through the front door and nearly knocked over the little old man who was standing just behind the door. They were about to apologize when the man faded from sight and the mirth descended upon them anew.
Harry and his curly haired companion laughed themselves out and found that they were nose to nose. She was backed up against the wall while he had a hand on either side of her head, leaning in toward her flushed face. She cupped his hands in her own and whispered a brief incantation that made him feel very warm, very /welcome/. He thought he could easily get lost in those deep brown eyes as they gravitated toward each other. Their lips touched, soft and moist, then she plastered her soft warm body against his and pressed her lips tightly against his. He touched the tip of his tongue to her lips, seeking entry and she parted her lips slightly so that he could touch her teeth with the tip of his tongue. She opened herself up further and soon they were tongue wrestling as she worked the buttons on his shirt. She made a frantic noise as the buttons frustrated her and she simply pulled the shirt open popping half the buttons in her impatience to feel skin.
His left hand was in her hair, reveling in the softness there while his right hand caressed her back and side. She pulled her shirttail out of her skirt and directed his hand under the fabric, placing it on the underside of her sheer bra.
"I don't think," he started to say when she stopped him with a quick passionate kiss.
"Don't think, feel," she insisted as she brought his other hand down to rest on her other breast and then proceeded to try to find his tonsils.
She pulled back just long enough to say, "Bedroom, now!"
He picked her up and nearly ran to the second floor master where he placed her gently down on the king-sized mattress. Neither one saw the door close silently behind them. Nor did either one of them register that the room was lit by the soft light of the Ever-Lit candles. They only had eyes, lips, fingertips and tongues for each other.
"I love you Herm - mumph," he said as she kissed him roundly.
"I will always love you Harry," she countered.
She was lying atop him, her head over his left shoulder breathing heavily against his neck while his hand roamed over her back, coming to rest on her bum. She thrust her hips against him eliciting an impressive response as 'little Harry' rose to the occasion.
They both groaned at the sensations. Harry found the button and zipper on the side of her skirt and was able unfasten then unzip same which allowed him to push the skirt over her knickers-clad bum. The sensible cotton briefs were soft to his touch and he massaged her nicely rounded buttocks for a while as she continued to grind against him. She groaned again as he slipped his fingers under the elastic waistband to caress her warm, pliant skin.
"Don't move my love," she insisted as she rolled off him so that she could divest herself of her skirt and knickers. She snuggled up to his side so that she could trace his hardness through his trousers. She unbuttoned then unzipped the interfering garment then tugged at the sides of his boxers and slacks. He got the hint and bowed slightly up so that she could clear his bum and free his rather impressive erection from its durance vile.
They were both more than a little impatient so the concept of unlacing shoes escaped them. Oh well, all she really needed to do was to pull him over her - his legs could stay together, hers needed room to spread.
With one smooth movement she slid her leg over his recumbent form and straddled his waist. She had to raise up as high as she could on her knees to place the tip of his member at her warm, wet entrance, then she pushed back, welcoming him into her inner folds. They both groaned as they bottomed out, pubic bones touching.
She realized that this was what she had been living for from the time she first saw him, to join their hearts, their bodies, their magic. She squeezed his length with the muscles of her abdomen as she rose up, then came crashing down on him again and again and again.
He felt the familiar pressure building from the base of his erection and grabbed her hips, holding her slightly up as he took the initiative and began pistoning from below. The rhythm of their smack, smack, smacking and his animalistic grunts harmonized with her continuously rising keening wail until they both exploded in a mutual, magical orgasm that literally rocked their world.
The simultaneous release of hormones, adoration and soul-binding enchantments overwhelmed them, and she leaned forward to lie comfortably on his chest and began to snore daintily.
Thus it was the next morning that the young couple found themselves, naked from the waist down, still joined. He had never really gone soft in the night and she had never released him; indeed Harry's member had awakened long before he did and his instinctive rocking recommenced the intimate dance of the ages as his companion purred contentedly.
The folded duvet at the base of the bed unfolded itself to gently cover the two lovers as a sound, as from someone clearing his throat came from the open doorway.
They both froze, mid-stroke. Harry looked quizzically at a small old man in a well tailored butler's uniform.
"I'm sorry, sir, miss," the old elf started, "but can you tell me who the master of this house is?"
"Um, that would be me," the bewildered teen answered.
"Very well sir, I am directed to give you this," and the old butler placed a sealed envelope on the night stand. "I shall be waiting in the dining room, keeping your breakfasts warm."
Harry looked at his lover and said, "Hermione?"
"Um, hum," she murmured.
"Are you, um, all right with this?"
"Less talk, more fuck," she insisted as her hips drove down and backward.
Harry's conscience was by then effectively torpedoed by her warm, slick, wet insistence and all he wanted to do was comply.
He threw off the duvet, flipped her onto her back and laughed at the state of his undress, shirt torn open, pants down around his knees, shoes still on, while she looked fully dressed in her proper white starched blouse until his eyes traveled down to where they were both naked below the waist and joined as they had been all night.
Balancing on one arm Harry unbuttoned the blouse to expose Hermione's simple white bra. She looked so beautiful that he leaned down and kissed her as he began to thrust in earnest. She met him, push for push, thrust for thrust as he plunged faster and faster.
"Oh yes!" she screamed "right there, do that, oh Gawd! Oh fuck me, fuck me, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuck meeeeeee!"
"Here it comes 'Mione, take it all arrrggggghhhhh!" he growled as he emptied himself into her for the umpteenth time that morning.
He collapsed on top of her, careful to keep most of his weight on his elbows and together they began to laugh.
After a few minutes he rose up on both arms and smirked. "Who would have thought such a prim, proper, studious girl could talk so dirty?"
She grinned in return and said "It worked, didn't it. Have you ever come so hard in your life?"
"Hermione, my 'Mione, I can swear a wizard's oath that I've never come so hard before." He looked a little abashed, "I only hope you were able to get off at least a little."
"No worries there Harry, but you have to tell me her name so I can thank her."
"Who?"
"Who ever it was that taught you to make love like a stallion!"
"Um, her name is Hermione Jane Granger."
She looked incredulous, "You don't have to tell me that. It's none of my business who you've been sleeping, or rather not sleeping with."
"I swear by my magic that you are my first."
"Harry!"
A blue light surrounded him and was instantly absorbed back into his magical core.
"What?"
She frantically scrambled for her wand, or better yet, his wand. She was just able to reach it on the night stand and handed it to him.
"Cast a spell, quick!"
"Um, accio buttons."
The missing buttons on his shirt flew from the tiny space under the bedroom door and into his outstretched hand.
"Harry, don't you dare swear on your magic for something like that! What if one of those round-heels at school had gotten to you already, then obliviated you? You would be a squib now!"
"I didn't think of that."
She breathed a sigh of relief. "I'll always believe you Harry. You don't have to swear to me, ever!"
"Made my point though, din't I?"
"Yes you did. I'm sorry you thought I doubted you." She looked deep into his eyes. "I really am your first, and you just about wore me out. I can see I'm going to need to get into shape - when you get a bit more practice in I may not survive it!"
"Are you hungry at all?" he asked.
"Oh, I think you've filled me quite nicely, thank you."
"I mean food."
"What, never heard of livin' on love?"
"I do, y'know," he said.
"What's that, Harry?" she asked, and then let out a startled gasp as she looked into his eyes and saw the depth of feeling there.
"I love you," he said, simply, sincerely, honestly.
"And I meant it when I said I'll always love you, Harry."
He rolled off her and for the first time since their first time he withdrew from her, eliciting a disappointed groan from his lover.
"You sound like someone just took your kitten away," he smirked.
"No, your kitty is just disappointed that you've left her."
"My kitty?"
"Sounds so much nicer than pussy" she smirked, then groaned. "Can you accio a couple of flannels please, I feel like I'm sloshing here."
"Funny you should say that," he laughed, lying back on his back. "You feel full and I feel drained!"
She gave him an evil grin "Oh yeah?" then straddled his belly so copious amounts of the fluid he'd deposited inside her began to drain out onto him.
"Ah, ewww girl slime!" He laughed and cringed at the same time.
She gleefully slid back and forth on his belly and chest leaving a slimy snail trail as she did.
"Now will you summon a flannel or two?" she smirked.
"Accio wet flannel, accio warm towel!"
She caught the wet and dry terry-cloths and first cleaned him before catching the remainder of his spunk in the wet flannel. Then she dried him and kissed him roundly.
"How about a shower before breakfast?"
"You go first," he said. "I'll join you in a moment."
She padded off to the shower as Harry appreciated the view - my, but she had a magnificent arse!
He reached down to untie his shoes then removed his socks before kicking off his trousers; then, fully naked, he followed Hermione into the bathroom where the shower was already running. He grinned, thinking of her under the warm spray, all wet and soft and soapy and carefully drew back the curtain to see Hermione sitting on the floor of the shower, crying.
"Oh Harry," she wailed, "I just know I'm going to Hell!"
_____ooo000ooo_____
The scene where the nurse kisses Harry is my tip of the hat to one of the most famous kisses of the 20th century, for millions of Americans; Alfred Eisenstaedt's 1945 LIFE photograph of a sailor stamping a masterly kiss on a nurse symbolized the cathartic joy of V-J Day; You just know a lot of people got lucky that day . . .
I figured turnabout was fair play so I made the lady the kisser and Harry the kissee.
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