Harry Potter and the Years of Rebellion

Chapter 35 ½

Harry’s Blustery Day “Outtakes”

In the recently released chapter of Years of Rebellion entitled “Harry’s Blustery Day”, Harry was tasked with a rather brutal assignment by one of his instructors. He was made to write three feet on the difference between love and lust, and was required to discuss the question with others - and only given a bit more than a day to do it.

In some recent chats, I had a number of characters' names thrown out as possible participants - ranging from the plausible to the ridiculous. I ended up responding to these during the chats, in the form of outtakes. I've been encouraged to post some of these.

I will warn you that compared to YoR itself or any of my other HP fanfics, some of these are a bit on the raw side.  Still, they fit into the general rating for YoR.  Enjoy…

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"You wish to ask of love and lust, Harry Potter?" moved uneasily. "Venus is not bright tonight."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Hagrid's wooden chair creaked under his weight. "It's like this, Harry... when th' skrewt mum and the skrewt dad get together, yer goin' 'ta get little skrewts. Now I suppose tha' yer talkin' about lust there. Skrewts are dead useful, but yeh can't love 'em without gettin' singed..."

"Oh for the love of..." Harry moaned.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Lust? Do you have any idea about the diseases you can pick up, Potter? CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Moody roared.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Lust is the sort of thing I've come to expect from a rutting nest of Gryffindors," Snape sneered. "Love? There is marriage for the benefit of one's family, and there is partnership for mutual advancement; the rest is stuff and nonsense, Potter."

"Merlin's balls! I didn't even ask you!" Harry shouted.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Dobby hears about Master Harry Potter's assignment," the house elf squeaked. "Dobby can get Master Harry Potter most excellent books from the Restricted Section"

"Books?" Harry asked. "Well, if they'll help me finish the assignment quicker..."

Dobby nodded furiously. "Dobby and Winky have found these books most helpful. Master Harry Potter will need a practice partner. Should Dobby fetch Miss Granger?"

Harry was confused. "Erm... Dobby... am I missing something here?"

In the blink of an eye, Dobby disappeared and returned with three enormous tomes that were easily three hundred years old. Harry peered at the cover of the topmost manual.

"Ritual Sex Magics for... oh! Bloody hell!" Harry gasped.

"Dobby is especially fond of page number one thousand and thirty six," the house elf said proudly.

Just then, the crackling wireless in the background caught Harry's ear. "You’re listening to WWN Overnight, with Nigel Abernathy. Now we turn to the third instalment in our four-part documentary 'When Sex Magic Goes Awry'. Calliope Freep reports from St. Mungo’s..."

He let the books fall to the table, flopped down in the nearest chair, uttered something that sounded like “eep”, and instinctively crossed his legs.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Are you sure you want me to talk about this?" Detheridge asked. He took another large bite of roast beef while Harry mulled it over.

"I respect your opinion," Harry said.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Detheridge laughed. "Here's how I see it, Harry: love is just lust with a nice bow and wrapping paper slapped on it."

"I'm sorry?" Harry goggled.

"Lust is highly underrated, you know?" Detheridge added.

"All right... maybe I didn't want to talk to you about this..." Harry stammered.

"I suppose you think I'm too old for lust?" Detheridge smirked. "Sort of like thinking about your parents that way?

"I promise you, I've never thought about my parents that way," Harry said flatly.

"No, I suppose you haven't," Detheridge said.

"Er... not a lot for you to lust after around here, Marcus - no offence," Harry pointed out, "unless you're, well, a bit of a pervert."

"Dunno," Detheridge said as he took another healthy bite. "Lucia's nicely turned, I think."

Harry spat pumpkin juice across the table.

"What? I'm not supposed to look?" Detheridge laughed. "If she's going to dress like she's in instead of this place, then I'll be looking, thank you very much."

"I really don't want to hear this," Harry muttered.

Detheridge's mouth was full, but Harry was used to following Ron's conversations. "Trust me on this: when you get to be my age, you'll still turn your head - a good glimpse from the back's better than nothing. I have to say, she's got great legs and a very nice –," Detheridge said.

"I'm not going to eat again until next week - you know that, don't you?" Harry moaned.

"Yeah, I kind of figured that," said Detheridge. "Serves you right for cornering me. Be seeing you." He made a point of letting his eyes roam over Covelli as he left the table. Her cheeks took on a hint of crimson; Detheridge looked back at Harry and winked.

Harry buried his face in his hands. "Marcus is hooked up... I did not want to know that… this is a bloody nightmare..."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

McGonagall sat on the edge of her chair, legs primly together and lips pursed. "The common factor in love and lust, Potter, is sexual intercourse," she said briskly. "I realise that you have been at a disadvantage in this area, owing to James and Lily's passing. I've taken the liberty of borrowing charts from Madam Pomfrey -"

"I'm blind," Harry said distantly. "I need to go to the Hospital Wing... the room is swimming..."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Lust is like the hunt, Potter," Fliptrask growled. "Hard to resist, and very worthwhile. Do not make more of it than it is. Wolfingham, are you taking notes?"

"Er... I can really take notes myself," Harry squeaked. "She doesn't need to be here."

"Nonsense," Fliptrask said. "I am devoting six minutes of my valuable time to this, so we must make the most of it."

"It's good to have lust for a mate," Fliptrask went on; "all the better for producing heirs. Love comes later. What alternative is there? You're bound to the mate for life - would you rather have hate? Are you getting all of this, Wolfingham? I do not see your quill moving."

"Hate would be bad, yes..." Harry said weakly.

"Exactly," Fliptrask said with his toothy dog-smile. "Hate would get in the way of the lust - a very poor use of time and energy. No, best to develop love. It doesn't seem to take more than ten years in most cases. I believe we're finished. Wolfingham, assemble the notes for Potter and keep a file copy. You never know when another client may enquire about this issue."

Harry shook Fliptrask's hand briskly. "Pleasure," he managed.

"Yes, that's the point," Fliptrask smirked.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"How did you know about this?" Harry spluttered.

"We know all, Harrykins," Fred smirked.

"Well, almost all - all that's useful for blackmail, at least," George qualified.

"Our little Chosen One's growing up so fast," Fred sniffed.

"Only yesterday he was a mere boy," George said.

Fred nodded. "A puffskein in the graphorn pen of life, this one."

"And now -"

"Look at him -"

"Love -"

"- and lust. Don't forget about the lust."

“No worries there, brother of mine. Hard to forget that."

"The question is -"

"Who is love?"

"And who is lust?"

Fred grinned at George, George grinned at Fred, and Harry cringed. "It's just a bloody question," Harry snapped. "How I let you talk me into opening my mouth...?"

“I've got ten Galleons on who love is," Fred said, "but lust -"

"Nothing like the smell of lust in the morning," George said.

"The morning after, you mean?" Fred quipped.

"I'm leaving now," Harry said.

Fred shook his head. "Not a chance, investor 'o mine!"

"Not when we can answer such a delicious question," George said.

"Yes, the chance to send such a fine young mind arse-over-teakettle -"

" - simply can't be missed."

Fred cleared his throat. "You see, my impressionable and incredibly naive young friend -"

"Lust is when you want to shag the girl every time you see her, but couldn't be bothered to talk to her for one minute," George explained.

"Love is when you want to be with her all the time, and the shagging doesn't matter so much," Fred intoned.

"Or so we're told," George added.

“Yeah, we really wouldn't know anything about that part," Fred said.

George nodded furiously. "It's all about the shagging, really."

"And abusing your fame," Fred added; "That's especially important - don't know why you're so opposed, Harry. Amazing how many birds go for the pranksters, isn't it, George?"

"It's the dragon scale jackets, I'm sure of it," George said.

"Well, can't rule out our smashing good looks," Fred pointed out. "Mine at least - you got the bad end of that, I think."

"OI!”

"I really am leaving now," Harry said.

"Just remember, Harry -" Fred said.

George grinned. "It's all about -

"Determination -"

"Deliberation -"

"And destination!"

"Yeah, destination's an important one -

"You never want to mess up that one, mate -"

"Trust us," they said in unison

"I'll buy a hundred Galleons' worth of anything if you let me leave now," Harry said.

"What, and miss out on our fun?" Fred pouted.

"Not a chance," George said; "It's not as if we need your money anymore."

"So who's lust?" Fred asked.

"To hear Ronniekins tell it... it has to be Lupin's daughter," George said.

"Ah, yes," Fred smirked. "Now that is surveillance duty, brother!"

"Delectable -"

"Delightful -"

"Edible -"

"Too true, that!"

"Shut it," Harry hissed.

"We've struck a nerve," Fred laughed.

"Definitely the motherlode," George agreed.

"Good taste, Harry, we'll give you that," Fred said.

"Yes, very tasty," George allowed, "although..."

"The whole 'my-dad-is-a-werewolf' angle -"

"That's not good -"

"Especially if he decides -"

"That you're edible."

"Still," George said, "we have to agree with Ronniekins' assessment on this one."

Fred nodded. "Shaggalicious, she is - no question about it."

"No more cinema for you two," Harry growled, "not ever.”

"I suppose you'll be wanting your ten Galleons on love now?" George asked Fred.

Fred shrugged. "Not very complicated, I figure."

"Dunno, she's pretty bloody complicated," George said.

"There is that," Fred admitted.

"Short-tempered -"

"Check!"

"Pushy -"

"Check!"

"Self-righteous -"

"Check, check!"

"Experience with Voldemort in her head -"

"Most definitely check!"

"That's it, then," George said. "Granger's perfect for you."

"Here's how I see it, eh?" Fred said. "The bookish ones, they're all tightly wound until you work up to the moment, and then -"

"It's like New Year's fireworks," George finished.

"Like setting a crup on a Muggle," Fred said.

George slapped his hand to his own forehead. "That was bloody smooth, Fred - forgetting that she's a Muggle-born, are you?"

"I'm not listening to this," Harry groaned. "Will one of you please untie me?"

"Best of both worlds, Harry," George said. "You like spending time with her -"

"So the only thing missing -" Fred chimed in.

"Is the mad monkey sex," George finished.

"Throw that in -"

"And you're set - "

"No more worries -"

"Except when she's short-tempered, of course -"

"Or self-righteous -"

"True, but our Harry is rich -"

"Well said... he could buy some house-elves and then free 'em."

"Non-stop shagging for a week, I should think."

"Throw in some S.P.E.W. buttons, and it's a month."

"Oh, definitely a month. Twice a day, even."

"Will you stop? She's my best friend, for Merlin's sake!" Harry shouted.

"And your point is...?" Fred asked.

"Do you think I want to ruin that? Why would I want to do that?" Harry demanded.

"Erm... for the mad monkey sex?" George shrugged.

"There's that," Fred said.

"Still, brother, I think the real problem here -"

"Oh, say it isn't so!"

" - is performance anxiety."

"The horror! The shame!"

"Most definitely. You see, if you're a decent shag, Harrykins -"

"- she'll see past that."

"So you must be afraid -"

"That you'll be a complete bust."

"Or a flop, that is," George said.

Fred hung his head balefully. "Oh dear, our little Harrykins..."

"Limp and mushy... like the morning's oatmeal," George mourned.

"Limp and... OI! THERE'S ABSOLUTELY NOTHING WRONG WITH ME WHATEVER!" Harry thundered. "NOTHING! NOT A THING!"

"Oh, I see it now!" George said.

Fred nodded. "A ringer in our midst -"

"The Zen Master of shagging -"

"Simply hiding it -"

"Beneath the guise of a nervous -"

"Twitchy -"

"I AM NOT TWITCHY, YOU EFFIN' LUNATICS! LET ME LOOSE!" Harry shrieked.

"Short-tempered -"

"See, Granger's perfect for him!"

"Inexperienced -"

"Ah, back to that, eh... did you say twitchy?"

"AAARRRRRGGGHHHH!!!"

"- little boy."

"Brilliant, isn't it?"

"I was completely taken in."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"You must be joking, Harry Potter," Voldemort hissed. "You risked reopening our link for this?"

"It's too embarrasing to ask anyone I really know," Harry whinged, "and I rather doubt you'll spread it around."

"Very well," Voldemort allowed. "Love is for fools, just as death is for fools. Flamel spent six hundred years with the same woman, Harry Potter - that is the true definition of hell."

"Don't hold back," Harry chuckled.

"Do not mock me, Potter!" Voldemort snarled. "I lust for power. Energy directed toward pleasures of the flesh should be spent on real goals... torture, killing, immortality, world domination, those sort of things."

"Play to your strengths - I get it," Harry said.

"You're mocking me again!" Voldemort howled. "I will have to flay a dozen Muggles to expunge these questions from my memory!"

Harry snorted. "I can live with that, if you let me pick out the Muggles - this is great stuff. Can you repeat the bit about lust? Hermione didn't get me the Quick Quotes Quill I wanted for Christmas."

"Shortcuts are for the weak, Harry Potter," Voldemort sneered.

"What, you'd rather have your hand cramp up?" Harry asked.

"You really should give thought to minions, Potter," Voldemort sighed.

"They seem like a lot of work," Harry pointed out. "I mean, I only have a half dozen friends, and it's a full time job keeping them in line."

"True, minions can be labor intensive," Voldemort allowed. "That's what the Unforgivables are for: proper incentive."

"Some of us don't live outside the law," Harry snapped.

"Then kill the Minister," Voldemort quipped. "It would be easier for you to change the law."

"Okay, we're on the same side on that one," Harry admitted.

Harry could almost feel Voldemort's serpentine smile. "How delicious," the Dark Lord said. "We simply must do this more often."

"So let's assume that the Unforgivables are out," Harry said. "Any other ideas on how to keep the minions in line?"

"Whatever you do, don't bring in minions who vote Labour," Voldemort said with a shudder. "The next thing you know, you're bringing in more minions to deal with National Health and the pensions... do you have any idea how much supplemental dental costs? It's enough to make you wish to castrate your male minions, simply to keep the fringe costs lower."

"Castrate... male... minions... all right, I've got it," Harry said.

"Now the female minions pose entirely different problems," Voldemort went on. "For whatever reason, they have this tendency to gravitate toward the leader - in this case, myself. Now, this is useful for public appearances, but all the mewling and the shopping and the romance novels distract me from the pursuit of immortality and other more interesting things."

Harry stopped writing. "You know, the other evil lords I've talked to seem to look on all the shagging as an extra benefit."

Voldemort stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I suppose I can see that... no, no, it's really all about the immortality and absolute power for me."

"No... distracting... Voldemort... with women... all right, I've got it," Harry said.

"What, you think it should be all about the shagging?" Voldemort asked.

Harry shrugged. "I'm sixteen," he said. "Of course it's all about the shagging."

Voldemort nodded. "I concede your point."