He's So Contagious

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Please don’t sue!

Author’s Notes: So here it is! First Portkey fic and all. *Gasp* Thanks Ruby, and Jane for being the best betas, and thank you Rini and Nat for just being there. J

This is for you Aurors!

(This fic was brought to you by Take My Temperature by The Kaiser Chiefs. Now, back to the show!)

*~*~*~*

For the millionth time that day, Harry wondered if he would ever manage to get out of bed.

Honestly! He felt like he had just escaped from another Duel-To-The-Death with Voldemort, had followed that with a nice crisp swim from England to France and back again via the Channel, and then followed that with a lovely quest to Mordor with Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee.

However, Harry had done none of these (ok, maybe the first one, but that was years ago…). The real reason for Harry’s high state of discomfort was due to an evil so great that the mere thought of it was bound to cause gasps and looks of fear worthy of the pronunciation of Voldie’s full name. Harry had The Wizard’s Flu.

*Gasp*

Yes…The Wizard’s Flu. The Wizard’s Flu was indeed a freak of magic that had yet to be fully explained by even the most skilled Healers. Every patient diagnosed with The Wizard’s Flu suffers a myriad of different symptoms. There have been cases known where the patient firmly believed himself to be a monkey, as well as one peculiar instance where the patient spent the entire length of the flu dressed as a 19^th century Austrian princess…

Of course The Wizard’s Flu only affects Wizards. Witches cannot contract it unless…well, that comes up later in the story.

The only linking symptom of every case of The Wizard’s Flu is an acute, intense fever.

As he lay in bed feeling all kinds of icky poo, Harry wondered if a film entitled “The Wizard’s Flu,” were ever made, every time someone mentioned it trumpets would blast the way they did when a villain entered the scene…

As if in retaliation for such an insulting thought, Harry was suddenly attacked with a wild bout of sneezing, which would give Grawp a run for his money. It was in the middle of this sneezing-fun that his best friend Ron Weasley entered the room.

“Bugger,” Ron said as he scrunched up his face feigning disgust. “No wonder Hermione sent me in her stead.”

In response Harry sneezed again, and Ron was kind enough to throw him some fresh tissue.

“Good Lord man! You’re going to sneeze me out of the room!”

Harry gave him a withering look.

“So, any weird symptoms?” Ron asked, looking genuinely concerned, but still maintaining a respectful distance. He himself felt no desire to contract the flu.

“So far, only the bizarre sneezing,” Harry replied calmly, consciously omitting the fact that ever since he contracted the flu, all he could think about was sex with Hermione. Then again, this could also be due to the fact that they had just started dating and had recently moved in together…

“Where is she?” Harry inquired, trying to sound uninterested in the whereabouts of the “she” in question but completely failing to do so.

“Who? Your favorite naughty nurse?” Ron asked with a grin.

At that comment, Harry threw the wad of tissue he had just sneezed into at Ron’s face.

“Ick!” Ron exclaimed, throwing the tissue back. “She’s at work, couldn’t get away. Sent me like ten owls demanding that I come and check on you…”

Harry sighed. Of course she’d be at work; she was pulling double rank now that he was out. The least she could’ve done was owled to say she wasn’t coming…

“…And isn’t that bloody wonderful of her? Commanding me to leave my job to check on you, knowing full well how contagious you are, as if I was her royal slave or something! Honestly, I think you should chuck her mate. Just because you’re the boyfriend now, do you think she’ll treat you with any more respect? Right now you’re in the ‘honeymoon stage’ of your relationship, but trust me mate. Pretty soon she’ll be ordering you about, and then it’ll all be back to normal…”

A tap at the window interrupted Ron’s rant. Ron went to open it and sure enough, there was Hedwig, a note in Hermione’s handwriting tied to her leg. Harry grinned.

Without asking Harry’s permission, Ron untied the letter from Hedwig’s leg, and began to read it aloud.

“Dear Harry,” Ron began, giving an exaggerated impression of Hermione’s voice. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there! I sent Ron to look after you, though I know that hardly makes up for my absence…so if I don’t make up for her absence what am I doing here exactly?”

Harry’s grin broadened. “Continue the letter!”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Yes your majesty. Where was I? Ah, yes. I so wish I could be there, darling,” Ron continued, mocking Hermione’s voice and batting his eyelashes. “But as you know, I am doing double duty now that you’re not here. I can’t wait till you’re better so that you can be with me here at work as well. I’m quite lonely without you. But every time I look at my desk I feel like you’re here with me, for it reminds me of the last time we were on it…eww eww eww!! That was too much information!!!”

Ron threw the note at Harry with a look of horror on his face. Harry could hardly contain his laughter.

“Oh this is wonderful! Here I thought you were going to take care of him, but all you are is exciting him! He’s weak you know! He doesn’t need you to get him all riled up…”

Hermione had entered the room, looking slightly disheveled, but nevertheless as beautiful as ever in Harry’s eyes.

“Ohh…I’m not the one in this room who would most likely excite him…” Ron said, with an impish gleam in his eye.

Harry chortled and Hermione rounded on him. “What exactly are you on about?”

“Oh nothing, nothing…” Ron said, thinking that he would never, ever, EVER be able to look at Hermione, or even Harry, the same way again. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Did you miss me, darling?” Hermione asked Harry, completely ignoring Ron’s question. Ron noticed the effort Harry was putting into looking weaker than he really was.

“I’m actually…doing better, I guess,” Harry said through ragged breath; Ron sniggered.

“Oh sweetheart, would you like me to bring you anything? Is there anything you need?”

Harry watched Ron stand behind Hermione, silently mimicking each of her words and mannerisms. Harry fought hard to keep his sick façade. After all, he was master at maintaining bluffs. How else had he defeated Lord Voldemort?

With the most sickeningly sweet voice he could manage, he whispered silently, “All I want is you Hermione…”

Hermione practically melted into a puddle on the floor. Harry tried not to look too triumphant. Ron rolled his eyes.

“Allright, I’ve had enough of ‘The Blissfully Perfect Harry and Hermione Show’ for a lifetime thank you very much,” Ron said with an air of disgust, though he couldn’t hide his smile. “So I believe I’ll just leave you two young lovebirds to shag – I mean – be alone.”

Hermione glared at him, while Harry gave the best weak wave he could muster.

“Honestly,” Hermione said when he was gone. “Sometimes, I just don’t understand him. Anyways…where were we?” Hermione grinned wickedly, and let herself fall in bed next to Harry.

“I believe I was telling you that you are all I want…” Harry said, completely dropping the weak act, and moving into predatory mode. He slowly narrowed the distance between them, and tentatively kissed her lips…

“My goodness, you’re so hot!”

“Do you really think so?” Harry asked with a wag of his eyebrows.

“Oh hush it, you,” Hermione said as she jumped out of bed.

Harry groaned. “Hermione…”

“Nonsense! You have to get well!” Hermione said determinedly. “Do you think I want to be nursing a sick man on our first Valentine’s Day as a couple?

“Well, you could put on a nurse’s costume…”

“I will agree to this only if you allow Colin to take a picture of me in it, and have him publish it in Playwizard, or whatever passes for real journalism nowadays…” Hermione said absentmindedly as she looked for the thermometer.

“Well that’s not happening,” Harry said looking extremely put out.

“You’re so adorable when you pout,” Hermione said, and kissed his forehead like an indulgent mother. “Now open up.”

Like a petulant child, Harry protested. Another kiss from Hermione, however, and he was putty in her hands.

“Y’no ahh-ate ‘da way you mah-ipah’late me,” Harry said, trying hard to keep the thermometer in his mouth.

“No, you love it. Now let me see…” Hermione said, taking the thermometer out of his mouth and inspecting the results. “I see, just as I expected. It’s still at Hot Enough to Call a Priest.”

Harry glowered. “I’m never going to get better!”

“Oh yes you are.” Hermione insisted. “In five days time it will be Valentine’s Day, and you will be so healthy it will be sickening, and we will have a wonderful Valentine’s Day where we will both be happy or else I am going to go on a murderous rampage!” Hermione emphasized her point by stomping her foot like a child during a temper tantrum.

Harry secretly thought he had never seen anything so cute. “Hermione…” Harry said innocently. “Come here.”

Hermione looked at him skeptically, and recognizing the request in his voice, grinned before shaking her head. “You know I would love to, but I’m not even supposed to be here…”

“Hermione I’m your boss; I promise I won’t fire you,” Harry said, smiling.

“Harry,” Hermione said warningly. “What if something happens, and neither of us is there…”

“Fine! Fine! Go back to work,” Harry said, resigned to his fate. “I always knew when I started dating you that you were married to your job, and that I’d only ever be your forlorn lover.”

Hermione grinned. “Right…as if the same couldn’t be said about you.”

“Not true,” Harry said. “You are the rightful woman in my household. She is only my mistress…”

“Well I guess I’d better be going back to your mistress,” Hermione said, as she walked over and kissed Harry goodbye. “I’ll come home as early as possible.”

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll just sit here and finish reading ‘Witches Are From Erebus, Wizards Are From Tartarus’,” Harry said amicably.

“Where on earth do you get that trash?” Hermione asked, obviously amused.

“Ron let me borrow it.”

*~*~*~*~*

Just as Hermione predicted, Harry began showing signs of improvement the very next day. His temperature lowered from “Hot Enough to Call a Priest,” to “Hot, but Survivable.” They celebrated the anticipation of Harry’s full recovery by Valentine’s Day with a nice shag.

Two days before Valentine’s Day, it finally lowered to “Stop Whining You Ninny, Its Only a Slight Fever and Not Even High Enough to Miss Work.” Hermione had triumphed! And she celebrated this by straddling Harry and shagging him into unconsciousness.

All seemed smooth sailing; Valentine’s Day would go off without a hitch! At least, that was until Hermione suddenly collapsed at work.

As a result of this Harry almost went into cardiac arrest; he ran about the Ministry like a raving lunatic, even scaring his very own Auror Division. Finally, they called in Ron to calm him down.

Ron remained composed, which was most unlike him. He took full charge of the situation; he had Hermione sent to St. Mungo’s, and had Harry drink a shot of Firewhiskey. Together they apparated outside Hermione’s room and waited for the Healer to diagnose her.

After what seemed like an eternity the Healer, a very tiny wizard reminiscent of Professor Flitwick, called them in to Hermione’s room.

Harry immediately went to her side. Upon touching her face, Harry found her to be quite hot and feverish. She was awake, and her eyes looked eerily bright.

“Darling…” Harry said soothingly. Hermione closed her eyes and sighed.

Ron wrinkled his nose. “Mr…”

“Demetrius,” said the Healer. “Call me Demetrius.”

“Right, Demetrius.” Ron said. “What’s wrong with her?”

“She has The Wizard’s Flu,” he pronounced grimly. (*Gasp*)

“WHAT?” Harry demanded. “How is that possible? She’s a witch! Witches can’t get…”

“You’re right, they can’t,” the tiny Healer nodded along. “Unless they…”

“Merlin’s Ghost! Hermione! You shagged Harry while he was sick?” Ron interrupted hysterically.

Hermione, who already looked quite flushed because of her fever, flushed even more. “Well…we thought, he was – oh bloody hell! How was I supposed to know I’d get sick too?”

“Because you know everything…” Ron said, amazed that for once he knew something Hermione didn’t. “This is quite shocking, isn’t it? After your lovely speech on how I had to ‘respect Harry’s weak state,’ there you were, exerting him while he was sick…”

“Excuse me, but none of the actions performed by me this week caused me any overwhelming exertion,” Harry said pointedly.

“Oh. Dear. Merlin. This week, I have learned way too much about your sex lives to ever lead a normal life ever again…”

“Regardless of who shagged whom and who got exerted when,” Demetrius said, looking highly amused. “This young lady is now sick, and she is in need of rest and care.”

“That would be my job,” Harry said, taking Hermione’s hand and squeezing it softly. “She is my responsibility.”

*~*~*~*~*

“I. Can’t. Believe. You’re. Making. Me. Do. This,” Harry said, as he fed Hermione bits of chocolate shaped hearts.

It was Valentine’s Day. Hermione was still sick, and to prevent Harry getting sick again, the doctor had ordered, “All extra-curricular activities were to be postponed until such a time in which both parties are found completely cured of The Wizard’s Flu.”

*Gasp*

In layman’s terms; no sex!

Apparently, though Wizards could contract the flu from each other by something as simple as shaking hands, a Witch who normally couldn’t contract the flu, had to shag an affected Wizard to get it. Furthermore, a Wizard who under normal circumstances couldn’t contract the flu from a Witch could indeed do so by shagging an infected one.

It was a big bloody mess!

Hermione was understandably irked by the whole situation. It was her first Valentine’s Day with Harry together, and all she had wanted from the beginning was a nice, romantic dinner, followed by an equally romantic but much more satisfying all-night shag fest!

Of course, just because she couldn’t get exactly what she wanted didn’t mean that she couldn’t enjoy herself…

Hermione, who sat up in bed propped up against pillows like a Queen enthroned, smiled smugly at Harry’s distress. “So, it’s all right for you to ask me to wear a nurse’s costume, but it’s completely unacceptable for you to wear scrubs for my sake?”

Harry looked at her with mock contempt. “Well…at least I wanted you to be fully dressed!”

Hermione grinned. “Oh yes, if you call the skimpy little piece of cloth you wanted me to wear ‘fully dressed.’ Besides…I love looking at your chest.”

Indeed, it seemed like Hermione couldn’t take her eyes of Harry’s torso. ‘Twas a stroke of brilliance when she decided to dress Harry up in scrubs and play doctor with him on Valentine’s Day. However, the crowning point was having Harry discard the top half of the outfit…

“I feel like a piece of meat,” Harry said jovially.

“And that you are…” Hermione said, tracing a finger from his abs up to his chest. “Now go pour me another glass of wine.”

Harry, reduced to his role of man-slave, did just that, pouring himself another glass as well.

As he was about to hand Hermione her glass, he thought twice about it. “I think I’d better check your temperature first,” he said.

“Whatever you say…doctor,” Hermione said mischievously.

“If you think trying to seduce the doctor will save you from your medicine, you are seriously mistaken.”

Hermione pouted. “What’s the point of shagging the doctor if you still have to drink that vile stuff?”

Harry decided to ignore that last comment, and took out the thermometer. “Ok little lady, open wide.”

“Ohhh…doctor…” Hermione moaned, biting her lips wickedly.

“Hermione! I was talking about your mouth.”

“Well, if you want to start there…”

“I’m being serious Hermione,” Harry said, feeling a bit exasperated with his naughty little witch.

“Fine, fine. Just stick it in my mouth.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help grinning. Hermione found it hard to keep the thermometer in her mouth due to a peculiar bout of laughter…

“I think that’s time,” Harry said, taking the thermometer out and inspecting it thoroughly. “It still says ‘Second Circle of Dante’s Inferno,’ which completely explains all the lechery on your part. Perhaps you’re also afflicted with the same weird symptoms that I was…”

“Which were?”

“Extreme horniness,” Harry replied with a mixture of guilt and mirth.

“What? Is it my fault you’re parading around our room half-naked?” Hermione said trying to look innocent.

“Um…yes, it is.”

“Really?” she asked, smiling. “Just give me the wine, why don’t you?”

“Hermione…do you really think this is a good idea? You’re sick! You should be resting! Not sitting around eating chocolates and drinking wine…”

“Oh bugger off! I’m not as big of ninny as you are!” Hermione said haughtily. “Besides… it’s your fault I’m in this position to begin with! It’s your fault that I cannot make love to the love of my life on our first Valentine’s Day together!”

“My fault?” Harry exploded. “Who was the one on top of whom yelling ‘I beat it! I beat it! I beat…’like a mad woman?” Harry obviously didn’t find anything unpleasant about the experience because he was grinning like an idiot.

“Yes…that was me, wasn’t it?” Hermione sipped on her wine daintily.

“The point is you should be sleeping, so that you can get better as soon as possible, and so that I can stop being tempted by looking at you all disheveled in bed…”

Hermione set down her glass of wine on her night table, and looked up at Harry demurely. “So you’re tempted…are you?”

There was a period of complete and utter stillness, in which alarm bells began ringing in Harry’s ears, bells that screamed, “Danger! Blood About to Rush into Regions Where Self-Control May No Longer Be Possible!”

“Hermione, I think-”

“You know what?” Hermione interrupted, the wheels already spinning in her head. “I will take you up on your request: I’ll take a bit of sleeping potion, go to sleep, and let you off doctor duty if you come over here and give me a kiss goodnight.”

Harry sighed in relief. A kiss goodnight, and then he’d be free of this temptation! What a wonderful world this was!

Poor sweet, daft Harry…

Harry walked over to Hermione. “Goodnight sweetheart,” he whispered before leaning over and kissing her lips softly. The kiss was gentle, intended to soothe the sick woman who held his heart captive, as well as thank her for letting him off the hook.

However, as an insistent Hermione deepened the kiss, Harry made the singular mistake of cupping Hermione’s cheek with his hand.

And what he felt once he placed his hand on her cheek caused the alarms to stop ringing in his head because quite frankly…there was no more need for them, since what they had warned had already come about.

As a matter of fact, Harry’s brain also seemed to cease functioning, just like the alarms ceased to ring. It was almost as if both the alarms and his brain were in cahoots, saying “Good job, idiot! Now that you’ve successfully dug a hole in the ground, you might as well bury yourself in it now without our help.”

What Harry felt when he touched her cheek was…warmth. Pure, unadulterated, irresistible warmth. Immediately his other hand came up to touch her other cheek; it was warm too, and feeling her temperature turned him on…

Yet warm was an understatement; Hermione was hot. Yes, Harry did find her hot in that “damn she fine” kind of hot, but in this case, Harry was taken with the heat that rose from her pores like the kind one finds when entering a sauna.

Hermione suddenly pulled away from the kiss. “If you want, you can leave now…” she whispered breathlessly.

“If I want…” Harry repeated, and went in for another kiss.

Hermione then knew she had won.

Sometime ago Harry had gotten down on his knees next to the bed in order to kiss Hermione better. Harry now found this position quite unacceptable; on top of Hermione was indeed a much more appropriate location. However, he still felt it relatively proper to remove some of her clothing before continuing on in his pleasurable endeavor…

Luckily for him, the only thing Hermione was wearing was the discarded top-half of his scrubs.

The task at hand was not difficult.

Hermione seemed rather pliant to his will. She did not put up a fight when Harry sat her up in order to take off her sole article of clothing. What Harry found underneath it was a treasure trove of delight: more warm skin.

Without hesitancy, Harry began exploring each and every crevice of Hermione’s exposed body with his hands…warmth, warmth unimaginable. She shivered, whether because she was cold at the sudden exposure, or because it felt so damn good to have Harry’s hand all over her, was hard to tell.

Harry forced Hermione to lie back down all the way, and continued his exploration with his hands. He started at her belly, and worked his way up to the valley between her breasts, and up towards her neck. Soon enough, he deemed that exploring with his hands was not enough, and decided to take it a step further by using another one of his senses as a tool:

Taste.

Harry recalled a conversation he had with Hermione a while ago, way before they started dating, way back when they still had those very thick blinders pulled over their eyes. It was one of those conversations one always remembers because it was so full of tension…the anticipation of what was yet to come, a promise of future fulfillment.

During this conversation, which started over a bottle of Firewhiskey, a very drunk Hermione told Harry that her neck was the most sensitive spot on her body. When a man did things to her neck, it was very hard for her to deny him…

That was when Harry’s head began to be filled with visions of Hermione’s neck. For this same reason, Harry always remembers to pay special attention to this most delicate of regions…

Harry lowered his head, and placed his tongue on the side of her neck. The reaction was immediate; Hermione grasped his hair and pulled him tightly to her. Harry grinned against her skin, and sat up.

“Wha-?” Hermione asked, a slightly dazed look on her face.

“Sweetheart, if you press me this hard against you, you’re going to break my glasses. Again.”

Hermione smiled bashfully, and Harry was suddenly struck with how undeniably lucky he was to have her in his life. But instead of making him want to please her, this realization had the opposite effect of making him want to torture her…

Though Harry was sure Hermione wouldn’t at all mind.

His glasses off, Harry resumed his previous position. He used his tongue, teeth, and lips to slowly trace his way from one side of her neck, across the center, and up to the other side.

Hermione was moaning and wriggling during all this, and Harry was thoroughly satisfied with her reaction. Though the exploration was not yet complete…

Harry was completely entranced by the temperature of Hermione’s body. Every bit of skin he touched, everywhere he licked, was warm…and being male, this drove him mad with the thought about how much warmer a place that was usually warm might be…

With every inch of ground covered, Harry’s arousal seemed to grow, along with Hermione’s impatience. But first he needed to test his theory…was Hermione just as hot within, as she was on the surface?

As Harry suckled on Hermione’s left breast, and used his right hand to knead her right breast, his left hand escaped to caress Hermione’s hip…

Though soon enough the hand grew restless, and decided, seemingly of its own accord, to creep in between Hermione’s thighs. Hermione’s eyes widened at the prospect of what was about to happen, and sure enough that sneaky little hand found its way north, and presently delved two fingers inside her.

Hermione’s legs tightened, and Harry well, Harry…

Bloody felt like he was about to come right at that moment! The fever, coupled with all the sexual excitement, had brought Hermione to such a burning pitch that the very idea of plunging into that overly hot crevice was more than he could bear!

But Harry has always been known for his perseverance; how else would he have defeated Voldemort?

So Harry fought the good fight, and refused the temptation to dive into her like a desperate man. He was suddenly struck with a very ingenious desire to taste that delectable warmth between Hermione’s legs with his tongue…

He kissed his way down from Hermione’s breasts, to her thighs, much to Hermione’s delight. She eagerly unclenched her legs to allow Harry to position his head, and was soon curling her toes as Harry feasted on her. She tasted like a hot, spicy tea, foreign and exotic. It was a taste unique to Hermione, and he loved it, couldn’t get enough of it, and neither could she.

Right before she could orgasm, Harry pulled away from her. Hermione groaned in protest, but before she knew it, Harry’s pants were gone, and he was inside her.

They were still for what seemed like an eternity, Harry marveling at the feel of being inside her. It felt amazing! Wonderful! Unbelievable! Remarkable! Incredible! Every single adjective along those lines one could think of! But of course, Harry couldn’t really think at the moment…funny how that happens no?

Harry decided that he wanted to remain in that position for the rest of his life. But then Hermione grew impatient, and began clenching her insides around him. That was when Harry decided that he could not stay like that for the rest of his life; he had to move.

And move he did. At first his thrusts were slow…meant to drive Hermione insane. Her legs were twined around his waist, and he was balancing his weight with his arms on either side of her. However, he soon began to grow impatient with himself, and decided that he needed to pick up the pace.

He fell off Hermione and onto his side, taking her with him. Now they were both on their sides, and Harry was grasping Hermione’s thigh over his waist. As the thrusting grew ever more intense, Harry found himself back on top of Hermione, and as if her legs had a mind of their own they curled themselves tightly around him.

Hermione, always a loud one in bed, was moaning louder than usual. It was simply too much! She felt weak, weak from the fever, and weak from the pleasure. Her body couldn’t take any more of this!

“Harry…” she purred into Harry’s ear. “I think, I’m going to-” She couldn’t finish her sentence, because at that moment she was struck with an orgasm so intense she was sure the earth shook, the bells in St. Paul’s were ringing madly, and that the Second Coming was on the verge of happening.

Which, when it was Harry’s turn, did indeed come to pass. When Harry came, it was the most bittersweet and fulfilling moment. He felt relief; at the same time he was sad it all ended. Yet there was always next time…

*~*~*~*~*

“Hermione, I really think it will be best if you go and stay with Luna until both of you get over this illness.” Ron was pacing in front of Harry and Hermione’s bed like a parent berating his children.

It was one week after Valentine’s Day, and Harry and Hermione sat in bed, sneezing like crazy, both suffering a fever that according to the thermometer was “So High, You Should Definitely Write Out a Will.”

“I. Refuse,” Hermione stated simply. She grinned at Harry who squeezed her hand and grinned back.

“And you! You aren’t helping! You egg her on…” Ron yelled, pointing an accusing finger at Harry.

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked innocently.

“You should be worried about your health! About her health! You’ll never get over The Wizard’s Flu (*Gasp*) if you keep on…contaminating each other!”

Harry and Hermione were completely oblivious to Ron’s rant, because under the covers, Harry had just given Hermione’s thigh a squeeze.

“Ron,” Hermione said calmly. “Could you please come back later? Harry and I have some…important mail to attend to, regarding…” Hermione gave Harry a “Help Me!” look.

“Aurors!” Harry blurted out “Yes…the Junior Level Aurors, they’ve been acting like randy teenagers at work, and well…we need to write up reviews. Right Hermione?”

“Right,” Hermione nodded encouragingly.

Ron rolled his eyes. “Right. And don’t forget to include a memo on randy Senior Level Aurors.”

With an abrupt wave of his wand, Ron apparated out, and left Harry and Hermione to their “mail.”