---I used to dig Harry Potter a lot. This story started around four years ago, when I got mono and re-read the whole series as it was then. I suddenly realized that all these kids were supposed to be average boys and girls of our time, in our world, only with magic. Magic doesn't make you less of a horny and stupid teenager, at least not to my knowledge, and, being approximately the same age as Harry during the fifth book, and having some knowledge of other persons that age and in that situation (high school), I decided to make Harry Potter, Book Five, realistic, in my world.
This is the first 30-odd pages of what was going to be the entire Harry Potter series. It is disgusting, crude, and badly written, but I like to think that if a lower-middle class teenage boy were thrown in a magical school with a bunch of other boy and girl apprentice magic-makers, my version is far closer to what would actually happen than Ms. Rowling's.
***
Harry was dreaming again. Usually, that was a bad thing. Since Voldemort’s return and the clusterfuck the ministry had made of it, his dreams had either been nightmares ending in his own screams waking him up or frustrating, feverish situations that he was sure represented his contempt for the incompetence of men like Fudge and his inability to do anything about it. This dream, however, he was starting to like very much. He was back at Hogwarts, and just walking into the Common Room with the intention of heading up to the boy’s dormitory. As he ascended the stairs, though, he suddenly realized that he was heading towards the girls dormitory. The strange thing was, the stairs had not become the usual slippery slide that always ejected overly curious or horny boys from the premises. Harry smiled. This was one of those dreams that you knew you were in, so you knew you could do whatever you wanted and get away with. And this was one of things he’d been wanting to do for a while.
He came to the top of the stairs and approached the door. There was no sound coming from inside. He carefully turned the knob and opened the door, sticking his head through the crack. He didn’t know why he did this, though. He already knew what he would find.
There was Hermione. She was standing with her back to him, working on something on the front of her robes. There was a soft rustle, and her clothes fell from her body, landing in a crumpled heap at her feet. Harry didn’t fully appreciate her thong until she bent over; his gaze, starting with her long, succulent legs, and rising up, lingering quite a bit longer on her tight little ass, before moving higher to notice the perfect way her straight brown hair cascaded around her shoulders and down her back. Fucking amazing luck, Harry thought, that this dream would be nearly as vivid as his nightmares.
With a quick movement Harry thrust the door the rest of the way opened. Hermione turned at the sudden noise. Her look of surprise slowly melted away as Harry approached her; a roughish grin on his face. His eyes looked over he full breasts, which were maybe just a little bigger then he remembered them being in real life. His eyes descended farther down. Her thong was black, and on the front was written in small, sparkling red letters, “How many licks does it take…” Harry found this a little un-Hermione-ish, but he liked it anyways.
He came up to her suddenly. She was smiling now, and he could swear he saw her she lick her lips right as he took off his shirt. She stopped him, however, when he went to undoe his jeans.
“Let me, Harry.”
She slowly went down on her knees, a slightly mischievous smile still on her face, and this time Harry definitely saw her lick her lips as she leisurely unzipped his pants and let them fall to the floor.
Harry finally allowed himself to touch her. He was very slightly disappointed, as the feeling was just a little distant; a little muted. He had almost forgotten that this was all just a dream. Determining to still enjoy it as much as possible, he stroked her hair gently and tried not to wonder what the real Hermione would think if she heard about this.
A second later, he didn’t care. All thought left his mind. It was closer to the real thing then he had hoped, and the fact that it was Hermione on her knees in front of him made it all the better. Strangely, in the dream he made no sound, although he knew in real life he would be almost screaming in pleasure right now. The real Hermione couldn’t possibly be this good.
A thought finally managed to penetrate to his brain, which he was sure was being spared almost no blood at the moment. The dream would end eventually, in fact could end at any moment, and there was no need for gentleness or chivalry.
He grabbed Hermione’s hair, and began pushing her head down harder and faster.
“Yeah…you like that…? I like it…more than…a lot…yes…”
All she managed was pleasured little affirmative noises in the back of her throat.
With a cry Harry pulled her up and threw her on the nearest bed. She grabbed him and pulled him on top of her, quickly ripping the thong off. For some reason Harry found he was very concerned about it, and quickly made sure it was undamaged and on the floor where they wouldn’t lose it. He also noticed that Dumbledore was sitting on the bed across from Harry, perfectly serene, although he was watching Harry and Hermione attentively. Dumbledore’s presence seemed incredibly unimportant at the moment, and Hermione was moaning impatiently, so Harry obliged her, willingly. She shrieked in pleasure at every thrust, and begged Harry to go faster and harder no matter how rough or quickly he moved. He almost felt his own dream-pleasure was diminished by her almost impossible enjoyment.
“Oh God, Harry, please more, oh, HARRY!”
Harry heard a sudden clear voice, as if the speaker was whispering inches from his ear.
“Keep TALL.”
Harry awoke suddenly, the voice still ringing in his mind. His view of the clock was almost obscured by his massive erection, but moving his head slightly he saw it was 6 in the morning. He lay back on his pillow as his throbbing cock slowly began shrinking, collapsing the little tent it had made with his sheet. He hadn’t had a dream like that since he was about 12, when puberty was in full swing. The last dream, however, had involved Keira Knightly, who, he admitted reluctantly to himself, was hotter then Hermione, although he had enjoyed the one with Hermione a lot more. The strangeness of Dumbledore being there was no real surprise to Harry; Dumbledore often would appear in his dreams in weird, awkward places, and in the dreams Harry took no notice of him. This was an obvious parallel in Harry’s life; Dumbledore was constantly inserting himself into his life, but since it was usually to save his ass from some stupid mistake Harry had made, and he didn’t really mind.
Hermione, though. Hermione was a different story. As soon as he realized how much baggage Cho had been carrying, Hermione had suddenly become an…option. There were two immediate problems Harry had seen saw to simply asking her out at the end of last year. First, she was smart enough to see that after the fiasco with Cho, Harry would be unstable, emotional, needy, and he would not have very much to give her that they didn’t already share as friends. That was mostly true, Harry admitted to himself. He had been in deep. But that brought him to the second problem. He liked Hermione. As a friend, she was funny, smart, caring, supportive…she could always keep a secret, and always knew what to say to make him feel better after a long day. It really was comforting to know that, at school at least, Hermione was there to listen if he needed to talk, smile when he just need a little encouragement, have a joke ready or a funny piece of gossip if he needed to be cheered up, and she could always tell when he simply needed to be left to himself, and would never bother him. That, all that, was what he was afraid of losing.
If he’d asked her out, sure, maybe he would find that they could share more than what they already did, plus he’d have a chance to find out whether maybe his dream was right about the kind of underwear she wore, but if she rejected him, or if they had a tough brake up- or even a not-tough break up- they might never be friends again. He sure as hell wasn’t talking to Cho anytime soon. And he couldn’t bear it if that happened with Hermione. He had only recently began discovering how important she had become to him, how much they shared after all the crazy shit they had been through together these past 5 years.
There was one final problem Harry had with a long-term relationship with Hermione. Simply put, Harry was a guy, and he was horny. Maybe even hornier than the average guy. There had been several other girls that had caught his attention this last year, including Ginny, who had somehow managed to grow a cute little ass and a pair of tits while he wasn’t looking. Harry had always kind of wondered what it would be like with a firecrotch. Dean Thomas had told him it wasn’t nearly as red down there, but Fred and George had assured him it was. They probably wouldn’t have answered him so quickly if they knew it was their sister he was thinking about. Ron either.
Whatever. The point was, Harry wanted to have a little fun before he “settled down”. He knew he could never cheat on Hermione, but you were only 16 once. And with Voldemort around, who knew how much longer he really had? With Hermione’s ass still vividly in his mind, Harry drifted back to sleep.
Harry woke up again gagging. An incredibly vile smell filled his room, and the door was open. Dudley must have decided to wake him with a fart. Covering his face with his shirt, Harry yelled as loud as he could at the door
“You’re fucking dead you fat piece of monkey shit!”
Laughter that sounded like a young, evil Santa Claus floated up from the direction of the kitchen.
“Do not use language like that in my house!” Uncle Vernon took the time to roar into Harry’s room as he came down the stairs, but suddenly pulled his head back with a disgusted look on his face, and glared at Harry.
“What the hell did you eat, boy?”
Harry didn’t bother to answer him. Anything he said would just make it worse. Story of my life, Harry thought. At least in this shithole.
Harry did get Dudley back, with a quick and violent ball-tap, coming up behind him and using the back of his hand. Harry decided to spend a few hours laying low until Dudley found something else to take his anger out on. Hiding, however, did not stop Dudley from telling his parents, and Harry ended up outside after dinner mowing the back lawn, which Uncle Vernon pointed out, even he couldn’t fuck up that bad. Harry didn’t care. The worst thing about this place was the boredom, and even boring work was better then boring nothing. He wasn’t so much of a nerd that he studied during the summer, no matter how bored he was. A couple of letters at the beginning of summer had given him a couple ways to pass the time. Hermione had sent him a rather sweet note about how she missed him already, and enclosed with the letter had been a brand new iPod. Harry had barely been able to believe it. He knew Hermione’s family was rich, and she probably got that kind of money for a trip to the mall, but it was still very thoughtful. He had only mentioned in passing that he had had no music this summer, since his uncle had took a cheap old radio that had been Dudley’s that helped entertain him, especially when he was locked in his room, which was often enough, but apparently she had remembered. It had only gotten two stations: a local classic rock station that also played some more recent stuff, and a station that played nothing but disco and “soft rock” from the 70s and 80s. This radio was the source of all the music he had ever heard, before he went to Hogwarts.
He had bitched, just a little, to Hermione about losing the radio near the end of the year, and she must have asked Ron what kind of music he listened to, because the iPod was loaded with ACDC, Led Zeppelin, The Stones, K.C and the Sunshine Band, Cindy Lauper, The Eagles, The B-52s, Beastie Boys, Mettalica, Nirvana, Aerosmith, The Police, Sex Pistols, and The Beegees, as well as a whole lot of other shit that Hermione liked or thought Harry would like. He had sent a very, very heartfelt thank you back to her. It made long stays in his room so much more bearable.
Ron had also been thoughtful, but in an entirely different way. Ron had sent him every issue from the last year of Quiddich Illustrated shrunk and concealed in the letter. Harry hadn’t found them for a week, but had enjoyed them almost as much as Hermione’s present. Actually, the two gifts went very well with each other. Harry had spent many an hour lying in bed staring at Lelyea Shaiknen, the half-vampire swimsuit model, while listening to “You Shook Me All Night Long” or “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun”. The articles, while dated, did give Harry some news about the wizard sporting world that he would otherwise have isolated from. He sent another heartfelt thank you.
Harry took his time mowing the lawn, enjoying the fresh air, sunset, and all the other outside sights and sounds that he so rarely experienced during his summers with the Dursleys. He smiled. Despite how shitty his life was here, he had found a few pleasures. Some came in the form of things like the gifts from Ron and Hermione, but some were as simple as a cool evening breeze and a beautiful sunset. Harry glanced around quickly. There was no sign of any of his relatives. He abandoned the mower on the half cut lawn and sprinted around towards the side of the house, ducking low under the windows, through which he could hear the sound of the TV blaring. With a very nimble leap he mounted a trash bin, and, using the side gate to balance, he clambered onto the roof. There was the familiar spot, near the apex of the roof, between the satellite dish and chimney. He lay back, hands behind his head. Some of his only happy memories from the first eleven years of his life involved this place. He would lay here for hours, listening to Dudley raging and slamming doors all through the house, and knowing he had complete safety and security in this little nook. Of course, when he eventually came down, he had to face whatever he had hid from in the first place. Those memories were a lot less pleasant and a lot more typical of his childhood. But for the few hours he had up here, he was invincible, above, both literally and figuratively, the shitfest of his normal life.
He lay for a long while, watching the sun and feeling the wind in his hair. His thoughts strayed back to Hermione. No matter how he looked at it, asking her out would be “settling down”, and he really wasn’t ready to do that. Besides, he could wait. Harry knew no matter how much she dated over this next school year, he would always have a special place in her heart. Two people couldn’t go through all the shit they had, the dangers, the fights, the laughter, the shared grief, and not forge a pretty strong relationship. Worst case scenario: everything stayed the same between them. Harry thought he could be pretty content with that. Except he really did wonder if Hermione would wear a thong like that…
“Where is that little shit? Boy, you already missed dinner, and if you still want breakfast you’ll get your ass back here and finish this job!”
Uncle Vernon had found the mower and roughly 2/3 of the lawn mowed. Harry sighed. The sun had gone down, and he was shivering in the cool night air. Autumn was coming. Harry cheered up a little. School started exactly one week from tomorrow. It would seem pathetic to most people how much he looked forward to summer ending. They wouldn’t think so if they actually knew his family. Harry jumped down from the roof and headed back towards the unfinished lawn and Uncle Vernon, without very much hope for breakfast.
Harry awoke slowly on the morning of September 1. The sound of The Offspring “Bad Habit” slowly brought him to full wakefulness. Smiling, he slowly got out of bed, and having packed the day before as well as sleeping in his clothes, he stuffed the iPod into his bag and carried it downstairs. Finally, thought Harry. He was going right now. Summer was officially over.
He was actually humming as he descended the stairs to the kitchen.
Hey man you know I’m really OK
The gun in my hand will tell you the same
He had awoken late; the Dursleys were just finishing breakfast. No one offered him anything. Ask me, Harry thought as loudly as he could them. Ask me if I give a shit. No one did. Aunt Petunia was packing up Dudley’s school supplies for him and helping him get dressed. Harry had always found this fittingly pathetic of Dudley, who was 16 years old, but Dudley never seemed to notice. Harry wondered what his little gang would think.
Harry threw his bag in the trunk of Uncle Vernon’s 2005 BMW 7-series, and they all climbed in. The Dursley’s always had some excuse for all coming to see him off. It was obvious that they enjoyed seeing him leave, knowing he wouldn’t be back for another 9 months. The feeling was fucking mutual, thought Harry as he sat squeezed in the back seat by Dudley, who despite his boxing and working out, still took up a good two and a half seats. Harry continued to hum, the song that woke him up still in his head.
But when I’m in my car
Don’t give me no CRAP
Cuz the slightest thing I just might SNAP
The Dursley’s seemed almost as happy as Harry was. Uncle Vernon violently cut off half a dozen cars on the way to the train station, muttering cheerily to himself about “watching the road” and “getting off your goddamn cellphone”. Dudley had apparently forgotten about the ball tap, he ignored Harry completely and played his PSP with complete concentration. Aunt Petunia was silent. She was always fearful as they approached the station, and turned away from the window or pretended to pick something up off the floor of the car to avoid being seen. Harry had figured out that she was afraid of being seen by someone who knew her sister and might recognize her somehow.
They pulled up to the station. None of them acknowledged Harry in the slightest. Uncle Vernon stared straight ahead. Aunt Petunia was very focused on fixing her shoe. Monsters screamed from Dudley’s game.
Harry almost wanted to say something, considering the Dursley’s wouldn’t be able to do anything to him for 9 months. He hesitated for a moment, but then simply opened the door and got out of the car. Uncle Vernon let him wait for about 15 seconds before popping the trunk. Harry smiled broadly and pulled his bag out, walking towards the platforms without closing the trunk. He heard the door open and Uncle Vernon’s voice yelling behind him:
“You get back here right now and shut that or there’ll be hell to pay!”
Harry gave him the finger without turning around. His smile became broader the farther he got from the Dursleys, and when Uncle Vernon’s screaming and swearing finally faded completely, he laughed out loud. This was freedom. He felt like a bird escaping a cage after months of captivity. All the sounds of the station were music to his ears, and he found himself smiling at everyone and everything. He smiled even wider when he realized that he probably looked like he was on crack.
He saw the first Hogwarts student he knew coming around the corner of platform 9. Ernie McMillian nodded seriously at him as he approached, but Harry went right up to him and gave him a huge bear hug.
“I missed you, man.” said Harry, not letting go. Even though Ernie didn’t like Harry much, Harry honestly had missed him just as much as he had missed everything else over the summer.
“Uhh…good to see you too, Harry…gotta go grab my stuff…I’ll see you on the train.” Harry let go, and Ernie headed towards the parking lot, looking strangely back over his shoulder at Harry. Harry didn’t care. Just the sight of Ernie gave him more of a feeling of being at home then he had had during all 16 years with his Aunt and Uncle.
Harry checked his watch. It was 8:56. Most people were already on the train and finding compartments.
But not everyone. Harry saw Draco Malfoy, followed by the usual gang with a few second and third years tagging along, thinking they were cool because they hung out with the “bad” kids, coming around from the other side of the platform. Draco saw Harry immediately. He turned and said something to his companions, and there was a quick burst of laughter. Harry stopped.
Although Draco seemed to ignore Harry, his path curved away from the fake wall that led to the train and headed towards Harry. Harry didn’t move.
Draco, talking animatedly to Pansy Parkinson, bumped right into Harry.
“Oh, Harry, sorry, didn’t see you there. We were actually just talking about you…”
There was suppressed laughter from the gang.
“Really,” said Harry.
“Oh yeah, really.” Draco was smiling broadly now. “It sounds like you Granger are fucking on a regular basis now.”
Harry felt a slight twinge of anger that shit like Draco could talk about Hermione. He suppressed it.
“Uh huh.” Harry’s voice was still expressionless.
“Yeah.” Draco was now looking around the station in a bored kind of way. “You know it must really suck to be a muggle. Just look at them, running around, all busy with their little jobs and ‘cars’ and shit. You’d know how it is, Harry. You’ve spent pretty much your whole life in a muggle shithole, right?”
Harry smiled.
“Hell,” he said casually, “even a couple stupid muggles aren’t as bad off as your parents, Draco. Dad in Azkaban and mom having to suck Voldemort’s cock to get him out.”
Draco’s smile disappeared, and all pretense of friendliness vanished.
“You can shut the fuck up about my parents.” His voice was soft, but he took a step towards Harry. The little gang murmured encouragingly, obviously hoping for a fight.
“You should tell your mom she better hurry up and blow,” Harry was allowing himself to get carried away “your dad could end up being a dementor’s bitch.”
Draco was furious. His faced was twisted and red, and he lunged forward and grabbed the front of Harry’s shirt.
“I thought I told you to shut the fuck up, you little shit.” His teeth were clenched, and his voice was a hiss.
Harry ripped Draco’s hands off his shirt and pushed him back. He focused some of the pent up anger at the Dursleys at Draco. It felt good. Before Draco could move, Harry was in his face.
“You gonna make me?” he asked softly, “Daddy wont be here to help you, he’s too busy taking it up the-“
Harry was interrupted by the shrieking of a train whistle, which drowned out the rest of what he was saying. Shit. Harry looked at his watch. Before Draco could move, he turned around and grabbed his bag.
“Get back here you little pussy.” Draco was still enraged. Harry didn’t spare him another glance. He sprinted toward the wall between the two platforms, his bag swinging wildly. With a whoosh he passed through the barrier, and didn’t even slow down as he saw the train slowly pulling away from the platform. He bulled through the crowd of waving parents, and leapt up onto the front car, almost losing his bag in the process. Hanging off the side of the train, he turned and caught a glimpse of Draco bursting through the barrier, a panicked expression on his face. Harry laughed, although he was slightly disappointed to see that Draco had plenty of time to swing himself up onto one of the rear cars, followed closely by his gang. Whatever. Compared with the last couple months, that little encounter had been rather enjoyable.
Harry entered the train. He was greeted immediately by half a dozen Griffindors passing through the corridor. He had apparently jumped on one of the house cars, which was convenient because he didn’t have to pass through the Slytherin, Ravenclaw, or Hufflpuff section. Inter-house rivalries were always more intense at the beginning of the year, when Quiddich matches were just on the horizon and there was no homework yet to keep students busy. Griffindor and Slytherin were rivals as a rule, and the Hufflepuffs hadn’t been too fond of Harry in particular since the death of Cedric. With Ravenclaw, there was always the danger of running into Cho or one of her friends. Harry felt the familiar wave of shame come over him, that he and Cho had not spoken for almost a year. Yes, their relationship had been a trainwreck, but that was a whole year ago and he was still too embarrassed to talk to her. Cho hadn’t made it any easier, with her blatant avoidance of Harry. Several times last year when she had seen Harry coming down a hallway towards her, she had simply turned around and walked the other way. She had also ceased all communication with Dean, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, Seamus, and anyone else that hung out with Harry, and he had heard from some Ravenclaw that she made a special request to not be put in any of Harry’s classes for the next two years. Harry saw this as even more evidence that she was a fucking crazy bitch, but that did little to comfort him.
These thoughts of Cho took away a lot of Harry’s good mood. He started remembering some of the negative things about Hogwarts, things like homework, Snape, a new group of first years to goggle at him and ask for his autograph, his indecision about Hermione, and Voldemort still trying to kill him. Harry firmly decided to forget these things, now that they were out in the open, and fully enjoy his first day back.
Fred and George came out of a compartment a little way ahead.
“…maybe a little too much for the first day back…”
“But definitely a good beginning of seventh year.”
They noticed Harry.
“Oh my fucking God, George, its Harry Potter!” Fred looked astonished.
“Where?” said George, looking around.
“There! With the huge fucking scar on his forehead!”
“You know, it’s not really funny anymore, after five years.” Harry was a little annoyed, but inwardly very glad to see the twins again.
“Sweet Jesus...” murmured George, awed. “He is…there…I could reach out and touch him…”
“OK,” said Harry “I get it, you guys are-“
“He said something to me!” Fred was practically screaming “What do I do? Oh God, did Harry Potter really just…?”
“I think he looked at me,” said George quietly, unbelieving “this might just all be a dream…don’t wake up don’t wake up…”
“Fucking cut it out, red-headed assholes, or I swear I’ll-“
They had leaped forward, and were suddenly embracing Harry.
“Haha! Missed you, you lightning face little mugglelover.”
“What happened, Harry? Have you been working out?” George suddenly took on a disapproving tone. “What did we tell you about steroids, Harry?”
“OK OK!” yelled Harry “I missed you guys, too.”
“That’s what I wanna hear!” said Fred triumphantly, “its on Harry, all this year…”
“We’ll let you know ahead of time on shit,” said George. “After all, you paid for most of it.”
“How about a little info right now?” said Harry “Heard you talking, something about too much for the first day…”
The twins let go of him.
“Shit,” said George.
“Still time,” said Fred. “You’ll see, Harry. C’mon!”
They were gone, heading towards the front of the train.
Harry laughed out loud, ignoring a group of second year girls who looked at him like he had 7 or 8 heads. Fred and George had reminded him of all the good parts of his life at Hogwarts. No matter how shitty everything else was, they were there to make fun of it. And there was always the joy of watching first years discover things like vanishing chairs in Great Hall, or the maps in the hallways that had been modified to switch the names of every classroom with a classroom on the other side of the castle. Colin Creevy had had a lot of trouble with that one. It had taken him half a semester to find out it was the maps and not his own faulty sense of direction that was leading him astray.
Harry was still smiling as he made his way farther towards the back of the train. He stepped into a compartment for a second to greet a couple of fourth and fifth year kids he knew, including a kid named David Rossum, who was looking to be a pretty decent chaser, and probably moving up to varsity this year. Harry didn’t stay there, though. He was heading towards compartment 82B, which was where he had sat in his very first year, and for a while had been his, Ron, and Hermione’s base on the way to and from school, before they had become prefects. Still, he could usually find Dean, Seamus, Neville, or another Griffindor he could bullshit with. He had also become reasonably close with Alicia, Katie, and Angelina through Quiddich, and they would always show up to chat for a while. Thoughts of the upcoming season ran through his head as he approached the familiar compartment.
Looking through the small window in the door, Harry was surprised to see that the compartment was empty. He couldn’t remember a time he had come here and not seen a friendly face. Harry glanced around. He could see movement and hear sociable sounds coming from all the surrounding compartments. A little wary now, he inspected the door of 82B. He wouldn’t put it past Fred, George, or Lee to rig a compartment with dungbombs or worse.
Very carefully, Harry turned the handle and slid the door open, standing as far back as possible. He stood frozen for a second. He could detect nothing weird about the compartment, except the fact that it was unoccupied. Still thinking of the Weasely twins, Harry stepped through the door, his hand on his wand.
He looked around. Everything was normal. There was no sign of the compartment having been tampered with or even recently entered. Harry carefully inspected every corner of the room, feeling a little stupid for having been so worried. It was no big deal. People had just found other compartments. It was somehow wrong that he wouldn’t be riding in here for the first time ever, though. If no one saw him on the train, though, he’d have a tough time explaining where he was or what he was doing. Fuck it, thought Harry. It’d be unlucky to go in a different compartment after 5 years. Something bad would happen for sure.
Without warning, Harry was grabbed from behind and pulled to the ground. He tried to reach his wand, but a hand quickly shot out and pinned his wrist. He saw the hand was black.
“If you don’t want another motherfucking scar on that pretty little white face, keep your head down and your mouth shut.”
Harry’s hands were released. He rolled over and angrily pushed his assailant off of him. He got to his feet.
Lee was sitting against the door. He was grinning madly.
“Did they tell you whats goin’ down?” Lee was enjoying himself way too much, Harry thought.
“No.” said Harry. Immediately after he had spoken, he heard a faint series of loud popping noises coming from the next car, followed by the very distinct sound of half a dozen girls screaming.
“Haha!” Lee was on his feet. “Here they come!” Harry noticed he was holding a small box that was glowing slightly, and he held it very gingerly between two fingers.
Before Harry could ask any more questions, the door between the cars banged open, and in an instant Fred and George were in the compartment.
“Harry! Thanks for joining us.” Fred was looking very pleased with himself. “Here hold this for a sec.” He handed Harry crumpled piece of pink cloth, which Harry took a few seconds to identify as a thong.
“What the f-“
“No time.” said George. “Get your wand out.”
Harry did. Fred and Lee were talking excitedly in the opposite corner.
“No, just a locking charm,” Fred was saying “They’ll be here any second. You got it?”
Lee showed him the glowing box.
“Yeah!” said Fred admiringly “You can always trust a nigger to get something illegal.”
“And you better be fuckin’ grateful for it.” said Lee.
“Oh you know we are,” said George as he went over to join the other two in examining the box “I haven’t lynched one of you in almost a month.”
A sudden bang and clatter from the other carriage silenced them.
“Not until I say,” said Fred to Lee, as he and George quickly and quietly shut and locked the door, both conventionally and with magic. Lee had his fist around the little box, which was apparently vibrating from the way his hand shook. All three of them stepped back from the door, wands out.
Harry had a sudden thought. “Are we-“
“Doing something crazy?” George finished for him. “Yeah, yeah we are.”
Clattering footsteps approached the compartment. Harry could hear several furious girls voices, but could distinguish no words. He deduced from the way the footsteps started and stopped at regular intervals that the girls were checking each compartment. Harry caught a couple words that they were saying to each other. It wasn’t very comforting.
“Should I-“
“Be scared?“ finished Fred. “No, its under control, Harry. Just-“
“DUCK!” roared George, and the twins dove to either side of the compartment as Lee grabbed Harry by the collar and dragged him to the floor. A blast of red light shattered the window and hit the wall above Harry’s head with a sound like a firecracker. Harry looked up. The wall was dented.
“Not so funny now, you red headed freaks!” The girl was screeching triumphantly from the other side of the door.
“Hey George, I think you lost something.” Another, quieter voice spoke as a strangely shaped pink object flew through the broken window and landed on Harry’s lap. Harry picked it up. He was holding an 8 inch ridged dildo that had the words “PleasureVibe 3000” written along the shaft. Harry looked at George.
“Well, you know, Alice,” said George slowly, motioning for Harry to give him the dildo, “I just thought you’d be needing a couple of these this year, after what Cromby told me about your little victory party after the game. I mean, if five guys and a troll can’t satisfy you, then I-”
There was a banshee scream of rage from the girl, and George hurled the dildo out the window and dove to the side again as a stream of curses poured into the compartment like machine gun fire. Each separate jet of light had a different effect. Some caused the standard spurt of fire and firecracker when they hit something, but others did things like leave a puddle of water, fizzle with a squeaking, scratching noise, or explode into globules of gel that jiggled and slid around the compartment. It was a cacophony of sounds and light. Harry and Lee were directly under the door, and the curses and jinxes went right over their heads. Fred and George were to either side, standing on the benches and grinning.
“NOW?” yelled Lee over the screams and screeching of spells.
“NO!” bellowed Fred. “HARRY, WHERE’S THAT THONG I GAVE YOU?”
Harry saw it on the floor a few feet away. As he reached for it, a flash of blue light burst with a sound like a train whistle, and Harry found that the panties dangling from his hand were on fire. Without thinking, he flung it over his shoulder through the spells whizzing through the air and into Fred’s outstretched hand. Fred held the burning material coolly with one hand and muttered quickly with his wand prodding the cloth.
After a moment, the words “Alice C. does it any way you want: 347-8908” appeared floating above the thong, and Fred threw it still burning towards with window. It zigzagged through the blasts of magic and zipped out the window
“Omygod, you immature fucking PERVERTS!” The girl’s voice shrieked, and speeding footsteps faded away down the corridor.
“NOW!!” yelled George, and Lee, who was still lying against the door with Harry, took the glowing, vibrating box, touched it with his wand, and shook it violently for several seconds. The glow became an intense hot pink, and the vibrating ceased. Lee spun around with a cry, and threw the box to Fred.
“FIRE IN THE HOLE!”
The box whizzed through the window and smashed against the opposite wall in a flash of pink light. One of the girls screamed, and a strange buzzing noise thrummed through the hallway and compartment. A pink-yellow light suddenly exploded through the window, nearly blinding Harry. The girls outside were still screaming, but in a very different way. It sounded almost like they were being tickled. The screaming and clattering footsteps, along with the light, faded quickly in the direction of the 7th year car before being cut off by the slam of a door. Harry stood up.
“Lets bounce.” Lee was at the door, beckoning to the twins. “Got a nice audience for that one, but some bitch firstie probably already narced us.”
Harry caught a glimpse out of the little window, and saw Lee was right. The noise had attracted around a dozen people, most of whom looked as confused as Harry. Harry suddenly realized how many questions he had.
“Wait!” Harry said quickly, as Lee opened the door, “What the fuck was in that box?”
Fred just laughed. “This’ll go down in fucking history, man. Harry Potter, you just witnessed a living legend.” He followed Lee out of the door.
“Goddamnit what did I witness?” Harry shouted.
George turned, grinning, and said, “You just saw the effects of a Lixie.”
“What’s a-“
“Ask Hermione, I’m sure she knows.” He was gone
Harry decided that this compartment was no longer a safe place to spend the rest of the journey. Lee was probably right. If one of the girls that had been victim to whatever Fred, George, and Lee had done didn’t tell, some other cunt would rat them, with Harry probably included.
Harry tried to look casual as he exited the compartment and made his way down the hallway, pausing quickly to pick up the huge pink dildo that had been kicked into a corner. There was still a few under-years hanging around the corridor, and they gave him surprised and fearful glances and ducked quickly back into their compartments.
“Harry! Harry, what the hell?” Harry turned around, and saw Dean’s head sticking out of a half-open compartment door. “What was that shit man? What was that thing that came outa there?”
Harry smiled and shook his head. “The fuck if I know. I’m just sitting in there and Fred, George, and Lee run in and hand me a fucking thong and a dildo. Who were those girls?” Do you know why they were so pissed?”
“It was Alice Cooper and Brooke Weaver and a couple other 7th years. I dunno, I just heard a bunch of screaming and I look out the window and their shooting fucking curses like mad into that compartment. Then this speeding pink light thing appeared, and like, burned them or something.” Dean laughed. “Fucking bright, too; they were running into each other and bouncing off the walls.”
“Jesus.” said Harry, “They OK?”
“Yeah, I’m sure they are,” said Dean confidently “Fred and George do some crazy shit, but they wouldn’t actually permanently injure someone.”
“Yeah, that’s true,” Harry said, not really sure. “I gotta bail, though, before I teacher gets here.”
“Good call. Later.”
“See ya.”
Harry turned and continued down the deserted hallway. He looked left and right into the compartments, looking for an empty one. Maybe a little relaxation before the Welcome Feast, which was basically an orgy of people greeting friends, fighting over rooms, trying to work out their classes and buy books and supplies…they made you do all that shit in one day. The train was supposed to be relaxing, and even though he knew that whatever the hell Fred and George had done would be a classic when he figured out what had happened, the experience wasn’t exactly settling. Usually it had been just him, Ron, and Hermione, with occasional interruptions from new kids who wanted Harry’s autograph, but since Ron and Hermione’s promotion to prefect, Harry had hung out with Dean, Seamus, the other varsity Quiddich players, and to a lesser degree, Neville and Luna. Although they were sometimes annoying as hell and completely unpredictable, Neville and Luna were actually fun to hang out with. Both were well aware of their awkward social status and mostly just laughed at themselves along with everyone else. Harry respected that kind of self-confidence and genuinely enjoyed their company, not just to laugh at their oddness.
Harry’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of the door between this car and the previous one opening. He suddenly wondered if a Lixie was the kind of thing that you could go to jail or get expelled for.
He turned quickly and pulled open the door of the nearest compartment, lunging blindly into it and closing the door as quietly as possible. Sitting down quickly, he tried to look as innocent and normal as possible, hoping that they weren’t checking every compartment, and thinking of what he would say if they asked him what happened.
Purposeful footsteps strode down the corridor, accompanied by the sound of low voices. Please not McGonagall, thought Harry. She would have his balls this time, if she found out he had anything to do with something that “…sullied the honorable name and distinguished legacy of the Gryffindor house.” He could almost hear her voice saying the words, and it wasn’t comforting. He hoped it would be quick.
Harry almost jumped out of his seat when the compartment door slid open with a scraping noise. He tried not to but his eyes automatically rose to see who was there.
It was Ron and Hermione.
“Harry!” Ron dove through the door, tackling Harry to the ground before he could speak.
“What’s up, Ron.” Harry managed, lying on his back on the floor.
“Get off him, Ron, that’s…not right.” Hermione was smiling.
“Oh, you know you want some of this, Hermione. This is a prime rib of a man right here.”
“OK, whoa,” said Harry, laughing, “now you’re being gay.”
“Yeah, well…it’s not gay if you like it…” Ron squeezed Harry’s arm. Harry pushed him away, into the side of the bench, and stood up quickly. “The expression is ‘It’s not rape if you like it,’ you dumb queer.”
“Haha.” Ron jumped up and hugged him again. “That doesn’t make you any less gay.”
“Please, Ron, stop humping Harry for five seconds.” Ron released him from the tight embrace. Harry turned to Hermione. She stood in the doorway, trying not to smile too widely. He looked at her for a long moment.
“Oh my God, Harry!” she leapt forward and wrapped her arms him. “Three months is way too long a time.”
Harry hugged her back, pushing away thoughts of his dream that suddenly jumped to the front of his mind and just enjoying the fact that finally, after the hellish summer, he was once again reunited with his friends, people he cared for and who cared for him.
“Well, guys, since I’m a prefect now, I’m going to have to report you two for making out on the train.” Ron looked down and pretended to count on his fingers. “That’ll come out to…hmmm…minus 30 points from Gryffindor. Ouch.”
“Shut your mouth, Ron, you are so not funny.” Hermione let go of Harry anyways, blushing just a little anyways. “How was your summer, Harry?”
Harry smiled. “Same as always. How about you?”
“Fine.” She sat down on the bench, and Harry sat next to her. Ron lounged across the seats opposite them, propping his feet up.
“How about you, Ron?” said Harry.
“Great, fine. Nothing big.”
“How’s Ginny?”
Ron laughed. “Oh she’s fine, too. Some kid asked her out over the summer, by mail. That was funny. The sad thing was she said yes, and they met up like seven times.”
Harry laughed, feeling pathetic for the tiny bit of envy he felt for a boy who would ask a girl out in a letter.
“So…it didn’t work out with Neville, then.” Hermione sounded disappointed.
Ron laughed even louder. “Neville? I would’ve killed her myself if she’d have kept it up with Neville.”
“Oh, come on, they were so cute at the ball.”
“If cute is a retarded kid in a moth-eaten suit trying to dance, then yeah, it was cute.”
Hermione kicked Ron sharply in the knee. “You are such a jerk.”
“It’s true, though. Shit, he said himself he must have looked like a fat penguin with Downs Syndrome.”
“Yeah,” said Harry, smiling, “that’s exactly what he said.”
Hermione turned towards him suddenly. “Holy shit, Harry, I almost forgot. That’s why we were looking for you. A little first year girl came up crying and said there was some kind of…attack on our old compartment, like a bunch of older girls setting off spells and something about a fireball…are you alright Harry?”
Harry tried very hard not to burst out laughing. “No I don’t- I mean yes, I’m fine. Wow, that sounds crazy.”
“Yeah,” said Hermione, still looking right at him, a slightly suspicious look on her face, “you don’t know anything then?”
“Nope,” said Harry, deadpan.
“Well…we found all your stuff in there, so…”
Fucking A, thought Harry. He had left his bag, with his name on it and everything.
”You’re sure, Harry? You didn’t see any kind of attack or anything?”
“No, of course not. Where’s my stuff?” Harry looked over and saw Ron staring at him, smiling knowingly.
“In the hall. Ron dropped it when he started humping you.” Hermione continued to look at him with an accusingly air.
“OK, come on, you guys,” Harry said looking back and forth between the two of them, “if anything weird happened, I would tell you.” He stood up, and the huge pink dildo fell out of his pocket and hit the floor with a soft thud. There was a moment of silence, and then Ron exploded into violent laughter.
“I’ll…just...” Harry walked over and slid the door open, trying to decide whether to laugh or cry. His bag was sitting next to the wall, just to the left of the door. He picked it up, wondering if he would ever get the chance now to use any of the contents at Hogwarts. Then he laughed. What was he thinking? He hadn’t done anything wrong, and even if he had, Ron and Hermione wouldn’t rat him out. He really wanted to tell them the whole story, but also didn’t want to get Fred, George, and Lee in trouble, if what they had done was as bad as it looked.
He turned and reentered the compartment, toting his heavy bag and noticing that Ron was still laughing his ass off. Hermione looked at him with an expression of simultaneous amusement and disapproval. With an effort Harry lifted his bag and set it in the overhead luggage rack. He sat down on the bench again.
“So Harry,” Ron stopped laughing long enough to say, “did that not fit in your bag or did you just want to use it during the trip?”
Harry tackled Ron to the ground as he burst into hysterical laughter again.
“You…are…so…gay!” Harry punctuated each word with a blow to Ron’s shoulder.
“Damnit, stop, both of you!” Hermione grabbed Harry by the hair and pulled him off of Ron. “Harry, just…tell us what happened.”
Rubbing his head, Harry got back onto his bench. Ron did the same, still giggling. A thought suddenly came into Harry’s head.
“OK, I will. But first, Hermione…what’s a Lixie?”
She looked at him sharply, the same slightly suspicious, slightly accusing look in her eyes. “Where did you hear about Lixies, Harry?” Her voice was quiet and pointed. Ron stopped laughing and sat up in his seat.
“Umm…someone said you would know what they are.”
“Really.” She looked angry, and, to Harry’s surprise, blushed slightly.
“What the hell is a Lixie?” Ron was sitting up fully now, attention focused on Hermione.
“Goddamnit, who said I would know, Harry? Who?”
“Just…no one.”
“What the fuck is it, Hermione?” Now it was Ron’s turn to look suspicious.
She spoke, flushed. “It’s…well it’s a pixie that…a pixie that’s enchanted to love human vagina…like really intensely…and they sell them as sex toys.” She looked up, very red but very angry. “What little cunt said I would know? Who was it, Harry?”
Harry was astounded. That was what was in the box? A pixie crazy for pussy? It was…kind of disgusting. That explained the strange cries from those 7th year girls. “It wasn’t a cunt…it was a guy.”
Ron was staring at Hermione still, openmouthed. “Is that for real?”
“Yes, of course it is. Sick, cruel, perverted, illegal, but real.”
“Well, how did you-“
“I read it in a book, Ron!” Hermione shouted.
“Oh yeah, of course.” Ron was smart enough to know when his life was in danger.
“Harry.” Hermione turned back to him, still a little red but looking serious. “What happened in that compartment? Was there a Lixie in there?”
“Um…” said Harry, “I dunno. I was just sitting in there, just thinking, remembering all the good times in that place, when these three guys just ran in and pushed me out of the way.”
“Who were they?” Hermione sounded like a police investigator from some cheap TV show.
“I didn’t know them…I think they were 7th year Ravenclaws or something.”
“Fucking Ravenclaws,” said Ron, disgusted, “you should’ve kicked their asses, Harry.”
“What did they look like?” Hermione was still all business. In a strange way, Harry was kind of hurt, that she would quiz him like a witness, in such an impersonal way. He wished she would laugh.
“Um…two were…tall and black…the other was short and white.”
“Uh huh…”
“Well…as soon as they came the girls showed up, and before I could do anything they started shooting curses through the window. One of them threw that…big dildo thing. And then they let some pink thing…the Lixie…out of a box, and the girls started screaming and left. I asked what it was, and the white one said it was a Lixie, and I asked what it was, and he said ‘Ask that Granger girl’.”
“Wow,” said Hermione, angry and sarcastic, “sounds like a bunch of really cool guys. I hope they can be just as cool at some other school. That kind of stupid bullshit, especially from 7th years, is just fucking ridiculous! Harry, you‘re going to identify these stupid fucks, and we‘re going to-”
“Whoa, whoa, calm down Hermione, shit,” said Ron. “Sounds like just a stupid prank by some dumbass Ravenclaws. And they knew Harry knows you, so they thought they’d be even funnier by tricking him into asking you what a Lixie was. I’m sure fucking McGonagall is going to catch them. You don’t have to do anything.”
Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but stopped suddenly. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she sat quietly for a minute. Harry and Ron watched her, saying nothing.
“OK…but it’s still really fucked up,” sighed Hermione. “That’s a pretty serious thing.”
Harry smiled. “You know a couple years ago, you would have gone after them yourself and jinxed the shit out of them.”
Hermione looked over at him and laughed. Seeing and hearing that laugh, Harry felt like a wave of cold water had washed over him. “I would have, wouldn’t I? I would have spent the whole year trying to make sure they got expelled or thrown in Azkaban or something.”
Ron laughed too. “Second and third year, you were pretty much the bitchiest girl in the school.”
“Oh, really, Ron.” Hermione spoke sarcastically. “You wanna talk about old times? How about when you asked Fleur to the ball? How long ago was that…second year? Or wait…was that last year? I don’t remember.”
Ron blushed. “OK, OK, you win. I’ll shut up.”
“That’s a good idea.” Hermione crossed her legs and leaned back in her seat, glancing out the window carelessly. She hadn’t yet changed into her uniform, and Harry suddenly realized how sexy she looked in her street clothes. It was a simple outfit, but very effective in outlining her features, Harry thought. She wore a jean jacket over a small white tank top and tight, faded jeans. Her hair was down, falling over her shoulders in a shining wave. She wore only a little makeup. Harry saw a distant look in her eyes as she turned back towards him. He thought she was going to say something, but instead she just looked at him for a moment, a shadow of that deep, far away expression still in her eyes, not really seeming to see him.
After a short silence, Ron stood up. “Yeah, um…I’ll just head back and tell McGonagall about the Ravenclaws…maybe get a pumpkin juice while I’m down there. You want anything Harry?”
“No thanks,” said Harry absentmindedly.
“Hermione?”
“No.”
“OK…so I’ll be right back.” He opened the door and his footsteps faded away towards the front of the train.
There was another short silence. “So…” Harry felt awkward alone with Hermione for some reason, and that was a first. “What did you do over the summer?”
“Just hung out…went to the beach…nothing big.”
“Cool, cool.” Harry nodded to himself, wondering why he suddenly had nothing to say.
“How about you?” Hermione turned fully towards him, a questioning look on her face.
Harry met her eyes for a moment, but then turned back, facing forward and leaning back against the wall. He smiled ironically. “Same as always.”
“You hate them, don’t you?”
That surprised him. As a rule, he never talked about his family with his friends at school, at least not seriously, and they usually didn’t ask questions. “It could be worse.”
“But it’s pretty bad, isn’t it? Not really having a family.”
Harry opened his mouth without speaking. He just started realizing why he felt so awkward all of the sudden. There was almost nothing he couldn’t talk about with Hermione and, to a lesser extent, Ron, but his life at home was one of those few things. First year he had told them what kind of people his family were, and it seemed like no one had mentioned it again since. He took it for granted that he could completely forget the shitfest back on Privet for all of the school year, even though in a way, he wished he could tell someone about it. But in another way, he really never wanted to tell anyone.
“It sucks. But…it helps to have…people like you here at school. That makes up for it, pretty much.”
Hermione smiled. “That’s sweet, Harry.”
“Yeah…” Harry hesitated again. He felt like he was on the edge of a diving board, getting ready to jump, except he suddenly wasn’t even sure there was any water below him. “I thought about you a lot over the summer, Hermione. When things weren’t going well.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
She turned away, still smiling, but with that same, distant look in her eyes. Harry watched and tried to not to mentally castrate himself. It seemed so stupid, that he was hitting on her and failing, and feeling really awkward, and damnit, it was Hermione, not some half- Vela pornstar or something. Why couldn’t he just tell her how he felt?
Because he didn’t know how he felt.
“I have no idea what I’m trying to say right now.”
Her laughter melted all the awkward, distant feelings like a blowtorch. “Just cuz you’re famous doesn’t mean you have to be smart, Harry.” She grinned at him, and Harry saw the old Hermione, the one who had been his friend for four years, not the strange, distant diva he had fantasized about all summer. He smiled back.
“So I won’t need to be smart, I’ll get good grades and a good job without even having to work at it. You can work your ass off and I’ll still end up being your boss.”
She laughed again. “OK, Harry, we’ll see about that, when you can’t even pass a remedial Arithmancy class.”
“Oh, OK, so I got a D in a bullshit math class. Big deal. I’ll just sign a pair of boxers and give ‘em to Professor Archmand and get credit for the class.”
Hermione grinned. “How much are those worth?”
Harry laughed. “Oh if you want one, I can go with a straight up trade. Signed boxers for one of your Expanding Bras.”
She hit him. “You’re the most immature little-“
“Celebrity? Quiddich star? Sexually irresistible, ripped, manly-“
“Oh my God!” She pushed him away and got up, moving to sit on the other side of the compartment.
Harry smiled now, a genuine, relaxed smile, and after a moment in which Hermione tried unsuccessfully to be angry at him, she smiled back. “I missed you, Harry.”
“I missed you, too.” said Harry, surprised how natural it sounded. Hermione, on the other hand, suddenly looked awkward, unsure, uncomfortable.
“Harry,” she said, shifting a little in her seat, not meeting his eyes, “there’s something…I’ve been thinking about...something, and I’d really like to-“
“ORGY IN 207!”
Ron walked in the door, a dumb grinned plastered proudly across his face. “Yeah, I’m just letting people know what goes down in here.” He flopped down on the bench next to Harry. Hermione shook her head with a frustrated, disgusted look on her face, then turned to stare out the window. Ron watched her for a second, then turned to Harry and made a crude gesture that resembled the motion of inserting a tampon. Harry didn’t laugh, although he kind of wanted to. They sat in silence for several long moments. Then Hermione turned back around.
“Well, I think I’m going to get some sleep. And you both should, too, so you have energy for all these incredibly fun and clever things I’m sure you’ve thought of for when we get to school.” She turned completely around now, head resting on the seat near the window. Run giggled silently and put another tampon in.
Harry smiled, but not because of Ron’s miming. He smiled because it was going to be a good year. Fuck Voldemort, fuck the muggles, fuck them all. This was going to be his year. All his.
He leaned back, and fell asleep.
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“Harry…we’re here.”
Harry sat up. That had been quick. It seemed like he had fallen asleep only a few minutes ago. Hermione was leaning over him, smiling. There was a fog on the window, and he could hear the hard patter of rain above.
Harry stood up, and peered through the window. The castle was surrounded by dark clouds, and the rain was coming down hard, in big droplets. Oh well. They would get wet on the way to the school, but 5th years and above got carriages, so it wouldn’t be too bad.
“Rain isn’t the only thing that makes me wet.”
Harry turned, surprised. Hermione was standing, watching him with a suggestive half-smile on her face.
“Wha…?”
She licked her lips, and stepped forward, leaning in close and whispering in his ear. “Harry…I don’t know how to say this exactly…but I’ve been meaning to tell you...” She took his hand, and pressed it between her legs. “You drive me crazy.”
Her hands ran up and over his shoulders, and she kissed and bit at his neck. Harry was a little surprised, but not so surprised that he wasn’t enjoying it. He flexed his fingers, and was rewarded with a small gasp from Hermione.
“Is this what you wanted to tell me earlier?”
“Not tell you, Harry…let me show you.” She stepped back for a moment, still breathing heavily, face flushed. Smiling playfully, she reached down, and slowly unbuttoning and unzipping her jeans, she slid them down her legs and kicked them aside.
Harry had liked her panties before. But no panties was good, too.
She tossed her hair over her shoulder with a flick of her head, and stared at him.
“Harry…”
He was already across the room, kissing her deeply, pressing her back against the door, and running his hand slowly up her thigh.
“Oh, Harry…”
She gasped, and leaning her head back, moaned long and low.
“Oh…Harry…I’ve wanted this for so long…”
Warm. He loved hearing the passionate, involuntary little gasps and moans of pleasure that his touches elicited, and he loved the way she thrust her hips towards him, the way she pulled his body towards hers. He kissed her neck, and with a tug, ripped her shirt open so he could kiss down over her shoulder and breasts. Her body was so warm, with such soft skin. It was almost unreal. Almost like…
Fuck, thought Harry. It’s another dream. But really, he didn’t care at this point. He just wanted Hermione, in every way- dream, reality, it didn’t matter. Pressing her backwards with kisses, he lowered her gently onto the seat, and lay partly on top of her, staring into her eyes, which were full of wild desire.
“Harry…you know exactly how to touch me…what I want…”
He smiled, roguishly, he thought. “What do you want? I think I know.”
The intensity and speed of her breathing increased. “Oh, Harry…please…”
Smiling again, Harry slid down her body, kissing over stomach. He wondered how the sensation of taste worked in dreams.
“Oh…Harry…OOOOOH!”
It worked alright, actually. Hermione’s gasps and moans were desperate now, and her body squirmed and writhed under his attentions. She bit her lip, and ran her hands over her breasts and stomach, her breath coming short and quick between moans. He reached his hands over her legs, grasping her thighs and pulling her further into him.
“Oh HARRY…oh my…faster…please…”
Harry stood up, and somehow, ripped his pants off with one quick tug. That’d be nice to be able to do that in real life, he thought. Smiling again, he moved forward.
“Oh my- OOOOOOOOHHHH!”
She wrapped her legs around him, scratching her fingernails down his back, which thankfully, didn’t hurt. He thrust again and again as she bucked her hips back up at him, screaming, shouting his name, begging him to go faster, to fuck her harder, more, deeper.
He did.
I hope this dream doesn’t end until I’m finished, he thought. Then a hole opened up in the ground, and with a sudden sick, turning sensation in his stomach, he fell right out of Hermione and into it.
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Harry woke up right as he hit the floor, falling heavily from the compartment seat. He banged his head hard against the unyielding metal surface, landing awkwardly, arms splayed out, trying too late to catch himself.
“Oh, God, Harry…are you alright?” He looked up to see Hermione standing over him, smiling. For a split second, he was unsure whether he was dreaming or not. Maybe if he had hit his head a little harder, he would have simply stood up and gotten back on top of her. But he managed to get a hold of himself, and replied quickly in a hoarse voice.
“Yeah…I’m fine.”
She giggled. “You were doing a lot of rolling and squirming over there…just a bad dream?”
He coughed, clambering to his feet, and tried not to look too unbelievably embarrassed.
“Yeah…basically.” Still smiling and watching him curiously, Hermione sat back down in her seat, and Harry did the same. He berated himself mentally. It was one thing to dream about fucking Hermione, it was an entirely different problem when he dreamt it while she slept a few feet away. And dreamt so intensely that he fell out of bed.
“I thought…you were going to sleep.”
“I was.” Hermione’s smile and penetrating gaze were starting to make him a little uncomfortable. “But then you kept mumbling and squirming. And then I guess in your dream you could fly, but not so much in real life.”
“Yeah…apparently.” Harry rubbed his head. “So how long was I out?”
“Only about fifteen minutes.”
“Fuck.”
“We still have a few more hours. You gonna try and recapture that intense dream?” She reached her arms above her head and stretched luxuriously, looking sleepy. Harry made a very focused, deliberate, concentrated effort to not stare at the curves of her hips and breasts, the way they so perfectly defined her body, or the place where her shirt lifted up to show a small expanse of succulently tan stomach. He completely failed in
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