Harry Potter and the Chat-Up Potion by ladysmith

Rating: NC17
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 09/02/2005
Last Updated: 28/03/2005
Status: In Progress

Harry has taken Hermione's ideas to heart and formulated a Clever Plan to woo his one true
love.




1. Harry Potter and the Chat-Up Potion
--------------------------------------

**Harry Potter and the Chat-Up Potion**

Being an account of Harry Potter’s attempt at coming up with a Cunning Plan to woo his One True
Love and the Unfortunate Outcome to the aforementioned Plan.

The Players:

**Mr. Harry Potter**

**Miss Hermione Granger**

**Miss Ginerva Weasley**

**Miss Susan Bones**

**Mr. Draco Malfoy (and friends)**

**Together with a generous and splendiferous supporting cast culled from the Best at Hogwarts
School For The Magically Gifted, including: Messrs Longbottom, Weasley (R), MacMillan and Thomas,
together with Miss’s Parkinson, Patil (Padma), Bulstrode and Spinnet and special guest appearances
from Miss’s Chang and Lovegood.**

**The Humble Writer would like to thank: Poppy the Seal Coloured Cat for sitting, at Frequent
Intervals, on the Muggle TypeWriterThingummyWorkingMachine keyboard and Deleting Great Things,
Tesco’s All Night Emporium (The Purveyors of Fine Wine), and one wonderful Ann, who by the wonders
of Muggle Technology has Fearlessly Dissected this Disgraceful Missive and Turned It Into A Thing
Of Rare Beauty.**

**Merlin Be Praised.**

**Let the Show Begin!**

**Act The First.**

Hermione Granger tucked her hair behind one ear and turned the page of her book. It was the only
sound in the near deserted library. The fine spring weather had sent everyone else out into the
grounds. She, however, was far more conscientious. She was, after all, Head Girl. The door creaked
behind her and she heard footsteps.

"Hermione?"

She turned at Harry's voice.

"Hallo Harry," she smiled at him, "no Quidditch practice?"

"No, you know there isn't."

She noticed the book in his hand.

"And voluntarily reading a book, are you feverish?"

"Ha ha, Hermione," he paused and adjusted his glasses, "I've got something I
want you to help me with."

"Yes..."

"I'm getting desperate as the words always come out wrong."

"Yess ...."

"And life is passing me by."

"Yeesss ..."

"And only you can help me...”

"Yyeeesss ..?"

"So..." he cleared his throat, "will you help me make a chat-up potion?"

Hermione felt curiously deflated, not that she ever expected Him to ask *her* out. Head
Girl or no. They were just Good Friends. Good Friends.

"Show me," she said rather shortly.

He hefted the book onto the table and opened it at a pre-marked page.

"I want it so I can chat someone up."

"Really, who?"

She looked at him with a strange feeling in her stomach.

He smiled his winning smile.

"Hermione, that's a secret."

They turned to the book, Harry leaning over her shoulder. She could feel his breath on her neck
and cursed the grey pleated skirt and matching baggy jumper she wore.

Surreptitiously she drew up the hem of her skirt, daringly exposing an inch or two of thigh.

“‘Sprecanus Amour Soir’ she read, “‘the Chat-Up Potion of Winsome Proudly-Standing, guaranteed
to bring to you your hearts desire or any other witch or wizard you wish to seduce.’” She glanced
at Harry, their noses an inch apart.

Her finger traced the spell ingredients as she read it out;

"'Strawberry from a southside field,

some orange and a pippin peel,

a blue fly wing and essence of bat,

a mandrake seed and hair of cat,

a Plummer mushroom from the midnight moon,

mix all these with a wooden spoon.

Stir left at daybreak one dozen counts,

stir right at midday twenty four amounts.

Add Tallis tree flowers pink or white,

say the spell below and you'll get it right.

Drink this before you see your dream

speak with her and she'll soon be keen'...

How corny," said Hermione pausing.

Harry’s following finger collided with hers over the 'keen'.

A small thrill passed through the girl. She turned her head to look up into his face.

"'To kiss you like you’ve never been and continue to the bedroom scene,'"
Harry finished hoarsely.

"It’s the only spell I could find."

He felt his face go red.

There was a long pause.

They looked at each other...

"So you want to chat this girl up so you get to kiss her and then she goes to bed with
you?" Hermione challenged him crossly, turning back to the book to read the words of the spell
itself.

Her sense of timing was once again unerringly inaccurate.

"Well, no … Yes ...Umm ... No. The kissing'll do fine. Then the other bit depends on
whether she'd want to with me, which knowing her, she probably won't. A bit prim that way,
I think. But that wouldn't matter anyway, I just want her to be my girlfriend," he blurted
in some confusion.

"It's a lot of trouble for a kiss."

"Hopefully more than one kiss, Hermione. I've fancied her for ages, simply
ages."

"Really?"

"Oh yes and she doesn't know it."

"Really?"

"So, will you help me? I'm no good at potions and I can't ask anyone else and
besides that you're my best friend, apart from Ron but I don't think he'd
understand" Harry burbled on.

She considered a brief moment.

"Of course. Tomorrow's Saturday. I'll make a list and we'll go out after
lunch."

"Great!" Harry's face lit up, "Hermione, you're a brick!" he landed
a big wet kiss on her unsuspecting lips.

"Harry!" she said, abruptly.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry...” He turned and fled.

"Bugger," said Hermione with feeling, "bloody bugger sod it damn and
blast."

Hermione sat at the dressing table, the various pots of unguents floating at eye level for
her.

She looked at herself in the mirror.

She lived by rules and a rather large amount of bookism and logic.

She categorized her thoughts.

*Why don't I look like Cho?*

*Why can't I be like Ginny?*

*Why doesn't Harry love me?*

*Why does he want to get off with someone else?*

Her thoughts drifted to a dusty part of her brain where a filing cabinet marked 'sex'
lingered, scarcely visited.

Hogwarts didn't teach sex education. Hermione felt there must be a reason for that but she
had yet to discover it.

Notwithstanding that omission, she had researched the subject; not with her usual thoroughness,
sex being a side issue when compared to OWLS or NEWTS but she had a fair grasp of the fundamentals.
She opened the top drawer of the mental cabinet.

Eyes closed; soft music played, she felt Harry's weight upon her and his mouth kissing hers.
She was kissing him. They were lying on her bed (*is that significant*?) Somehow they weren’t
wearing any clothes. (*I wonder what it’s like to be undressed by a man, could he cope with a
bra. Would I need to wash my feet?)* Bare flesh met bare flesh, (*would he like my breasts,
they might be a bit large),* she could feel his heartbeat and something hot further
down.....

"Hermione?"

She jerked, pulling her hand from down between her thighs.

"Ginny?"

She turned. Ginny was red haired and red faced with excitement.

"So you're going to do the potion for Harry?"

"How do you know?" she demanded at the unexpected statement.

"Cause Harry asked me if I thought you would do it for him and I said yes," replied
Ginny in a single breath.

"Oh...” though she was cross, Hermione could hardly have a row with Ginny.

"And you know who he's after?" Hermione asked.

Ginny laughed.

"Don't you? He gets so tongue tied I thought it was obvious."

"No I don't, go on Ginny, give us a clue."

"She's a bit prim."

And with that she was gone.

That set Hermione thinking.

*Ginny*

*Cho*

*Susan Bones*

*Parvati*

*Lavender*

*Well Ginny was unlikely seeing as he'd asked her about the potion,*

*Cho was seeing thingy,*

*Susan, maybe.*

*Parvati, too flighty.*

*Lavender, not his type.*

*Who else.*

*Who did he get tongue tied talking to?*

*Me.*

*Me?*

*Me!*

*Maybe it’s his way of chatting me up!*

Hermione's eyes widened.

**Act The Second.**

Harry sat on a stone bench outside the main entrance, contemplating his plan.

He wasn't much for plans but this was a good one. He thought so, Ginny thought so and he was
sure Hermione would think so as well.

"Harry?"

It was Hermione.e.e.e.

*Oh my god…*

Harry stared.

She carried a wicker basket.

And wore a short muggle dress, blue, with buttons up the front.

Hermione had knees.

And thighs.

*Rather nice thighs.*

"Ready then?" she asked gaily.

"Course," Harry was on his feet and next to her in a moment, wondering whether he
should have tried a bit better in the wardrobe department.

"Come along then” she said briskly.

Harry pushed his glasses back up his nose and stepped after her.

"I thought if we went to the southside field first" she suggested.

"Good idea," Harry agreed, “umm, is there a southside field?”

“This is Hogwarts Harry,” came the enigmatic reply, "and I've got the blue fly wings,
essence of bat and hair of a cat."

"Crookshanks?"

"Course not, he's a cross breed, remember, I've got another one off of Millicent
Bulstrode’s cat."

They both laughed at the thought of Millicent Bulstrode’s cat. And the Polyjuice Potion.

Hermione knelt to pick the strawberry.

Harry stared at the taut hem high across her thigh and swallowed.

She held out her hand.

"Help me up."

He took her hand. It was cool on his. He helped her up and squeezed it. She squeezed it
back.

He let go.

*Damn damn.*

Hermione suddenly realised she had no idea how to chat anyone up either. Not only that, but the
idea had never crossed her mind.

*Hermione, you are pathetic.*

The Unseasonal Greenhouse yielded the orange and pippin.

They crossed the grounds toward the forest, passing other groups of students sat on the grass. A
sizeable group kicked a football, encouraged by Dean Thomas, the West Ham fan.

Ron nudged Neville.

"Looks like Hermione's after Harry."

"D'you think so?" Neville stared after them.

"Have you ever seen her in a dress that short before?"

"No...”

"Well then. By the way, how's it going with Candice?"

Neville went pink.

"Umm…well … er ... ok, ok, good … yes … good … very good ... fantastic ... brilliant!"
Neville finished, flushed.

"Ok, ok, I get the picture." Ron wished he'd never asked. Since he'd been
dumped by Padma, he’d not had a lot of success.

Padma lay on her stomach on the grass next to Ernie MacMillan, a copy of the Daily Prophet in
front of them.

"Ernie!" she nudged him with a hiss.

"What?"

"Looook, Hermione's going for Harry."

He followed her gaze.

"She's got legs," he remarked, "not at all bad either."

"Ernie, not as good as mine I hope."

"No dear, especially when yours are wrapped about me."

Padma giggled.

"I hope that's a proper compliment."

"Of course it is. Come on, let's go and make love" he said formally.

Padma giggled again.

"I love it when you say that, it's so romantic" she giggled for a third time.

A lot of people found Padma's giggle annoying. For Ernie it sent a pleasant shiver through
him.

She rolled over and sat up, gathering her books. With the short skirt she wore it made a very
pleasant view for Ernie.

"Come on then Ernie MacMillan, come and make love to Padma."

"Look at that mudblood Granger." Goyle nudged Malfoy who was staring up at the sky,
dreaming of Yiselda Blowhorn and her long blonde hair.

"What?" he rolled over.

"She's off with Potter."

"Well, well, so our mudblood’s feeling randy."

"It would be like taking a book to bed and a boring one at that" said Crabbe.

Draco chuckled. "Very good Crabbe. Yeah, lots of small print and no action."

He watched her go.

"I wouldn't mind being her first, show her a bit of Slytherin mastery."

"But she's a mudblood,” pointed out Goyle.

"So? Hopefully she'd get up the stick, be expelled and then I'd have her and the
baby committed to St Mungo's."

They all laughed.

The Slytherin laughter followed them down the hill toward the forest.

“It's much more fun when it's not for lessons." said Harry as they neared the
forest edge.

"Is it?" asked Hermione.

"I think it is."

*Damn damn damn blast,* Hermione shouted at herself.

*I should have said 'it is, isn't it Harry, 'specially with you
helping'*.

They reached the edge of the wood and wandered in.

Of course, things can happen when your minds are on something else. Harry and Hermione’s clearly
were as neither had bothered to draw a wand. They trekked through the undergrowth, Hermione
wondering vaguely whether a short dress was the ideal clothing for such a task.

A Knargle suddenly reared up in front of them, its razor sharp claws at the ready, and its body
armour proof against most spells. Mouth wide; showing its three rows of serrated teeth, it
screeched its war cry.

Hermione screamed.

Harry grabbed his wand. “Endus Internium Knargle!”

He blasted the creature with the single spell and it exploded in a mass of skin, armour, bone
and green blood, splattering everything in the area, including themselves.

"Yeuchh!"

Hermione found herself grabbing Harry.

"Well blasted!"

"Luck."

She pressed her head to his shoulder, ignoring the gore.

"Still, well done."

Harry found his arm about his friend’s waist whilst he gazed vacantly at the tree filtered
sun.

*Maybe* ….

"Where did you learn that spell?" asked Hermione, “Knargles are impervious against
most magic.”

"Hmm? Err ... Hagrid."

*Blast, bother, bother, bugger it. Why didn't I say 'you smell nice my
hero'?*

They moved apart.

“Ughh, we’re all messy,” Hermione drew her wand, “Scourgify!”

They were instantly clean once more.

“I really must learn that one, it could save me hours,” he commented.

“Pop to my room one night and I’ll teach it you, it’s in the movement of the wrist,” she
volunteered.

*That’s better! More of that!*

“I’ll remember that” he grinned.

*Bother remembering Harry! Come and knock on my door!*

“Maybe we should move further down the hill, closer to Hagrid's hut," suggested
Harry.

Hermione readily agreed and they backtracked rather rapidly to the forest edge and then walked
slowly further down the slope, allowing pounding hearts to subside.

For a second time they ventured into the wood, demonstrating exaggerated caution.

"There's one!" Hermione pointed up into a tree at a growth of flowers.

Tallis flowers grow mainly on the trunk and bough rather than bud with the leaves.

"Great, it’s twelve feet up." Harry grunted, "I'll have to climb."

There was a short pause.

"I am not stopping down here whilst you climb a tree," Hermione informed him,
"It's your potion. You can take on the Doxys and Knargles.”

Harry gave her a leg up to the first branch. Her body brushed over him, chest, waist, dress,
bare leg. He stared straight ahead, determined not to look up. It wouldn’t be gentlemanly.

“Harry?”

He looked up.

*Oh my God! Her legs go all the way to her bottom and she’s wearing light blue knickers. Oh
my, think of Potions lessons with Snape!*

“Yes?”

“Pink or white?”

“Blue.”

“Pardon?”

Harry shook his head.

“Pink.”

“Right.”

Hermione picked the flowers, balanced on a branch and well aware of the view she was offering
Harry.

*I hope he likes it. Prim, huh! I bet I can flaunt it as well as the next girl. Well, provided
she isn’t a tart or a slapper or a Slytherin.*

She descended carefully.

“Catch me then,” she said.

Harry positioned himself.

“Go on then.”

She jumped and he caught her, swinging round to take her momentum. They both laughed, her arm
about his neck, his arm under bare thigh.

*I am going to kiss her.*

“Let me down, your shirt’s rough on my leg” Hermione instructed him.

“Sorry.”

He let her down.

*Hermione you are pathetic, ‘let me down, your shirt’s rough...’ why not ‘Harry, what strong
arms you’ve got’...*

With the ingredients (bar one) collected, they walked back across the dreamy field.

“Whaddya reckon?” asked Crabbe.

“Couldn’t get it up,” Draco told him, “Either that or he had to write an essay on five magical
uses for the penis first.”

They laughed, loudly.

Hermione and Harry didn’t notice; they were too wrapped up in each other to notice anything.

*This is a brilliant plan.* Harry thought.

*Please Harry, ask me.* Hermione dreamed.

“So, that’s everything bar the mushrooms?” asked Harry, engrossed in his cunning plan.

*Bother.*

“Yep, we need to do that at midnight.” Hermione walked as close as she could as they made their
way back toward the main school.

They met in the Common Room. Just in case, Harry had his map and the Invisibility Cloak.

“What is a Plummer Mushroom?” he asked.

She sighed.

“It stands six to nine inches tall, has a purple head and a pinkish white stem,” she
recited.

“I only asked.”

“You’ll never get top marks in Herbology if you don’t pay attention to detail. You need to be
able to spot it, know how to treat it and pick it so it doesn’t wilt before you’ve used it,”
Hermione lectured him, “what’s the time?”

“Ten past eleven.”

“We’d better get on with it.”

He shook out the Cloak. Arms about each other, they made their way through the school and out
into the night air. As they made their way across the lawns, careful in the dark, Harry was
conscious that Hermione smelt rather nice. In fact she smelt very nice. Very nice indeed.

“You smell nice.” he whispered.

“Do I?” she was secretly pleased. It was a muggle perfume, ‘L’Air du Temps’. A present from her
ever hopeful mother.

“Yes.”

“Thanks.”

*Is that the best I can do? Why didn’t I say, ‘And you smell great as you are.’*

Short of grabbing and kissing him, there was little else she could come up with.

She stumbled on a small tussock.

Harry tightened his grip, dragging her up, turning her so that they were face to face.

“Careful ‘Mione.”

On impulse she kissed him swiftly on the cheek.

“Thanks Harry.”

He went to kiss her back but she turned away.

“We could do with a bit of light.”

*Bloody hell Hermione, stand still!*

“It’s too risky, even with the cloak.”

She put her arm about him and rested her head on his shoulder.

“Mind you, this is quite romantic.”

“I suppose it is,” he squeezed her tight about the shoulder; “we’ve never done this before like
this.”

*We’ve never done anything before except stare at each other.* They both thought at the
same time.

Harry pulled off the cloak.

“Lumos,” he said softly and his wand lit up the Strange-Herb Garden in a soft white light. The
light gave Hermione an ethereal look.

“Hermione.”

“Yes?”

“You look nice.” he managed, taking in for the first time the tight, cream roll neck woollen
jumper and equally tight black slacks, finishing in a slight flare. Given Hermione’s curves her
choice of clothes made her look *all* woman.

*Blooming nice, In fact bloody fantastic.*

He felt a surge in his groin.

She noticed his look and felt her stomach tighten.

*Those eyes.*

“Thanks,” she replied.

Harry stared at her chest, her excitement and interest showing if he had but understood the
signs.

*Nipples! Oh wow, they look…I want to ... I’m going to explode! Say something!*

“Really nice.”

“Thanks I… there’s one!” Hermione spotted one behind him as he raised his wand higher.

*Idiot, idiot bloody silly damn blast and sod it.*

“Well done!” Harry cried out in relief.

They studied the strange upright mushroom.

“Odd shape.” said Harry.

“I think it’s rather… interesting.” Hermione told him.

“How do you pick it?”

“Well, it seems a girl is best suited to pick it, it’s less likely to wilt.”

Harry watched as his Best Friend’s fingers ran gently up and down the stalk of the mushroom
three times. It seemed to shudder. Her hand reached the dew touched grass and suddenly jerked
upward.

Harry winced. His interest had suddenly run to hide.

The mushroom came out in her hand as the Great Clock chimed twelve.

“Yeuchh!” spat Hermione, “my hand’s all wet and sticky.”

**Act The Third**

It was Sunday.

Harry was up early, eager to progress the potion.

Hermione was in the Common Room, looking tired but exhilarated.

She wore a pretty green skirt with an Oxford collar white blouse and a blossom from a Vanda
orchid in her hair. The small cauldron sat bubbling, giving off a very pleasant aroma. The Tallis
flowers lay next to it.

“Sorry I’m late,” he started.

*God you look nice. I love the flower.*

His eyes strayed to her blouse as he wondered if…

“I’ve done it” she smiled at him, “a potion mixed and stirred at daybreak.”

“Great! So what’s next?”

“We wait until midday, stir it again and then cast the spell over it. It’ll be ready to go by
half twelve.”

“Brill Hermione, brill.”

*I like this plan.*

“Shall we go for a walk, it’s a nice day.”

*Say yes.*

“That’d be great. Haven’t you any reading to catch up on?”

“No, no. I thought it would be nice for you and me to go for a walk together.”

*Hooray!!!! I said it.*

“Great!” Harry was enthusiastic, “you can tell me all about Mad Tiberius Korke and the bid to
populate Uranus.”

“Harry!”

“Only joking ‘Mione.”

*Yesssssss ….*

They walked out into the sun. There were few about this early, only the early risers and the
late-going-back-to-the-dormers.

They walked across the grounds, chatting at a rather inane level, heading to the Stoned
Garden.

Had they noticed, they were not alone.

Susan Bones was sitting on a limestone lintelled bench, reading The Daily Prophet.

She glanced up at their self absorbed approach. Her face split into a big smile.

“Morning, Harry, Hermione” said the Hufflepuff, catching them off guard.

“Oh, hi,” Hermione replied.

She spotted the look of hero worship she gave Harry.

And frowned.

*I wonder.*

“Hi Sue” Harry greeted her warmly, “umm, err, nice day.”

At his stumbled words The Green Eyed Goddess peered out of Hermione’s eyes.

All of her angst ridden fears reared up in glorious technicolour.

*It’s her, the Hufflepuff bitch. Why was I so stupid! She’s prim and boring and and
and!*

Hermione’s insecurity overrode her intelligence.

*I’ll sort Him out, see if I don’t. It won’t take much to alter the spell.*

The rest of the walk was made in a strange silence.

Harry poured the potion into a measure glass. It smoked a sort of purple colour.

“It’s ok?” he asked.

“Harry!” Hermione sounded cross, “since when?”

“Here we go!” he drained the potion.

“Hmm, I can taste the strawber ...” he burped. A small cloud of green smoke issued from his
mouth, “’scuse me.”

Hermione smiled.

*Good, this’ll teach you.*

*God, I feel weird.*

Harry found himself heading out of the building.

Why he didn’t know, since it was Hermione he wanted to chat up. The trouble was he was being
driven by a magical imperative he wasn’t party to.

*There’s Alicia Spinnet, God she looks a right tart in that skirt, just what I want.*

He lurched across the lawn toward the unsuspecting girl dressed in a short black skirt and white
smock top, tight across her chest.

“Hi!”

She turned.

“Harry!” she smiled.

“You look a right tart in that gear, fancy coming with me and giving my wand an outing?”

“What did you say!” her face narrowed.

“Let me into your knickers and I’ll slip you a couple of Galleons.”

Smack! Smack!

“Well! You’ve been drinking!”

She stormed off, leaving Harry nursing a well slapped face.

*That didn’t work right, mind you ‘let me in your knickers’ was a bit tame. Maybe I should
have offered ten Galleons.*

He looked about. A lot of the students, like Alicia, weren’t wearing robes but the usual mixture
of wizard and muggle fashion.

He spotted Luna Lovegood.

*Looney‘ll give it up for me, with her looks she must be desperate.*

He weaved determinedly toward her.

Hermione appeared at the main door.

“That friend of yours, Potter!” snapped Alicia walking past her angrily.

“What?”

“He called me a tart and then asked me to drop my knickers for two Galleons”

She stormed off.

Hermione watched her go.

*Look in the mirror dearie.*

*Still, it’s working.*

She moved into the sunlight to see Harry lurch up to Luna.

“Hi there Luna, how yer goin’?” he asked.

“Fine Harry, contemplating Green Fanged Haggagebandlars” she replied airily.

“Why don’t you contemplate my wand, it’s pleased to see you.”

“You what?”

“That’s a nice pair of knees you got there, how about I get down between them and see you
shagged?”

“You what!!” her eyes were like saucers.

“It’s the best offer you’ll get, with looks like that your best chance is with a Green Fanged
Haggagebandlar.”

Luna kneed Harry very firmly in the balls.

“Well really!” she snapped.

Harry was too busy kneeling on the grass to watch her go.

Hermione hid her laugh behind her hand.

Ginny Weasley slipped into Hermione’s room.

There sat the Chat-Up Potion.

She scribbled a note for Hermione.

*Just had to try it, Ginny xx*

“Yes” she told the walls and swallowed a measure.

“Strawberry... ‘scuse me.” She belched pink smoke and grabbed the table top.

“Bloody Nora.”

She shook her head. The room went away and came back again.

*Why am I wearing this crap dress if I’m on the pull? I need to get changed.*

Harry picked himself up, driven by a compulsion. He spotted Susan Bones, sitting on a bench. He
staggered to her.

“Harry!” Her face spread into a welcoming smile.

“I’ve a rock hard wand I want to bury in your snitch” he declared.

Her smile faded.

“Pardon?”

“Let’s go upstairs and let me fuck you rigid.”

Slosh, smack! Harry was lifted off his feet.

She backhanded him twice, once with each hand. She wasn’t in Hufflepuff’s Quidditch team for
nothing

Hermione snorted with laughter.

*That sorted that out.*

Harry wandered purposefully, looking for his next target.

*Cho!*

*Look at her, tight traditional dress, whinging about Cedric instead of going about the
business of satisfying the male of the species.*

“Cho!”

“Harry darling” she smiled.

*If anything here needs stuffing, it’s her.*

“Hi babe, fancy riding my broomstick to ecstasy and back?”

“Harry?”

There was worry in her almond eyes.

“Your face is all red Harry.”

“I fancy some red hot action in your knickers Cho!”

He grabbed her at the hips.

She shrieked and her nails raked across his face.

“Harry, you’re drunk!”

Hermione nearly wet herself and ignored the alarm bells at the back of her head.

Harry shook his head and spotted Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode and a bunch of other
entirely unattractive Slytherins.

*Yes, I’ll have the lot!*

He moved in range.

“Potter?” sneered Pansy.

“Your tits are like pillows I want to bury my head in.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Your arse is a valley for me to plough.”

“Huh?”

“I reckon I could have the whole lot of you and still have time for Ginny Weasley, she’s
class.”

“Get the fucker!” shouted Pansy

Hermione watched in horror as they fell upon Harry.

She took a deep breath and turned away.

*Still, he deserved it.*

She absolved herself.

Ginny approached Draco Malfoy.

"Hi Slythy Malfy...” she breathed.

"Talking to me?" Draco, taken aback, lost his edge. Apart from her manner, it was the
tight black dress with the split to the thigh that caught his eye.

*Is that a bloody stocking top? Weasley in stockings?*

She adopted an appalling American accent that was entirely lost on Malfoy (who thought America
was a muggle brand of coffee.)

"Is that a wand in your pants or are you pleased to see me?"

"You what?"

Crabbe and Goyle stood up, ready to protect their hero from this predatory female.

Ginny tried again.

"Is it true what they say about Slytherin men?"

"What's that?" he demanded.

"Their snake is always a bit soft?"

"You what!" his eyes narrowed. Crabbe and Goyle stepped closer.

"Are you there with Gryffindor men, who can keep it up all night?"

Malfoy worked out what she was getting at.

"Are you questioning our prowess Weasley?"

"Ginny, Draco, Ginny to you. Yes I am. Have you got the meat and two veg to take me
on?"

"Me?"

"Yes you, I like some brains with my men, so your two gorillas don’t make it.”

Draco looked at her strangely.

She sighed and grabbed him in the crotch.

"Something in there for a little girl to play with if you've got the balls,
Draco."

"I've got the balls, and I’ve got the room, W ... Ginny," Draco replied. He
wasn't going to miss a chance to have her even if she had been drinking, chewing dried mandrake
sticks or whatever.

“You two get lost,” he told his bodyguards.

Harry made it back to the bathroom and shoved some tissue up his nose to quench the bleeding. He
inspected his black eye; he'd have to get Hermione to repair his glasses.

So much for great ideas and subtle plans. He checked the sides of his face. There was a nice set
of red marks from the fingernail rake Cho had given him. He sighed and filled the sink.

Draco helped Ginny’s top off and took in her breasts, held in a bra that demanded to be
released.

*How can any girl look so good?*

To his surprise his hand made only a tentative move to touch her lace encased chest.

“Draco …” she whispered.

Draco had a problem.

*She’s beautiful, she really is. What the hell do I do?*

“Draco?”

“We … sorry, Ginny?”

“Are you going to have me or is it back to Gryffindor Tower?”

*Oh Merlin.*

“Ginerva, I am going to have you, as hard as it needs to be.”

“Thank Merlin for that.”

They suddenly crushed together.

“Blimey We ...Ginny, that’s good.” Draco managed.

Ginny couldn't answer the compliment as she currently held Draco Malfoy’s elegant ivory pole
in her mouth, her tongue causing him pleasurable grief, whilst her red painted nails carefully
pressed into its base.

"Merlin’s tits We... Ginny, where did you learn that?"

"Mmnff mm mnn hhmphh...” she replied, giving Draco a subtle nibble.

He groaned.

"You witch" he said, truthfully.

"Mmnnhh." she replied.

*This is good, this is bloody good. Hopefully Weasley won’t cry out 'Praise the Dark
Lord' either, as Pansy does at the moment of triumph, it’s so bloody disconcerting.*

Draco grunted, feeling her fingers delicately tease the root of his tree. His lap was a sea of
flame red hair and his groin had become one big pleasure park. His heart was pounding
strangely.

*Oh Merlin, she is something else, and a Pureblood, those eyes, that hair.*

She pulled her head back and looked up.

"So, what do you think to a Gryffindor witch?”

She glimpsed his eyes and was surprised at what she saw.

"Draco?" she asked.

"He pushed her head back to his quivering part.

"Ginny, please" he rasped thickly. "Don't stop!" his fingers twined into
her flame red hair and he groaned.

She didn't, a cat waiting for cream.

The cream arrived as did a sudden velvet wave that rolled over her.

A satisfied cat. Or was that lion?

**Act The Fourth.**

Hermione sat on the settee, hugging her knees; feet perched on the cushion edge.

"You ok?" asked Ginny.

"Ginny!" Hermione was off of the sofa in an instant.

Ginny moved somewhat stiffly.

"You're alright?" asked Hermione.

*What the hell’s she wearing?*

"Yes, fine, that potion was a bit strange though...”

"A bit strange Ginny, it was all wrong!"

"Pardon."

"I sabotaged it Ginny!"

"Sabotaged it, why?"

"I didn't want Harry chatting up some other girl rather than me!"

Ginny frowned.

"But that was what it was for, so he could chat *you* up."

There was a long pause as a penny dropped.

*Clunk.*

"Me!" squeaked Hermione, "but he said it wasn't me."

"That was all part of the plan! Harry made a plan, like you do."

"Oh no!" wailed Hermione, "what have I done! And I want to go out with him more
than anything in the world."

Ginny stared at her.

"I dropped you a hint as well."

"Did you?"

"Prim."

"Me! Prim?"

Ginny nodded.

"You, prim. Believe me."

"I'm not prim! Studious, serious but not prim. I kissed Victor."

Ginny showed an amount of exasperation. She looked at the carpet and then into Hermione's
worried face. She took a deep breath.

"Hermione, are all muggles like you and Harry?"

"What do you mean, in what respect?"

"Do-you-not-have-sex-before-you-get-married?" Ginny asked and waited a moment,
"there, I've said it."

Hermione managed a passable impression of a goldfish.

"Of course we do!"

"Well, what's wrong with you then? This is the time of our lives! No parents, no
worries...”

Another penny dropped.

"Have you ...done it?" Hermione managed, in disbelief.

*Little Ginny?*

Ginny had the grace to redden slightly.

"Yes, frequently" she tossed her head, hair swishing.

"Ohhh, this is too much." Hermione slumped back onto the sofa.

"With Harry?" she asked faintly.

"Didn't you listen?" snapped Ginny. "I think half of the girls in this school
would let Harry, but he only has eyes for you."

"Cho? What about her?"

"That was more like a brief infatuation borne out of Cedric's death."

Hermione rubbed her eyes with her hands.

"Ginny?"

"Yes?"

"I don't know."

There was a long silence that ventured into the awkward.

"Harry is going to kill me."

"Figuratively, not literally." Ginny reminded her.

"I suppose I am prim, bookish and boring and a know it all" she said tiredly.

"But you're clever, loyal and dependable."

There was a pause.

"Great. Here lies Hermione Granger, clever loyal and unloved. Huh." The sarcasm was
evident.

"Pardon?"

"It’s an epitaph," she sighed, her thoughts in the future, "when you die they
write it on your gravestone."

"Oh, right,” Ginny didn’t really understand, "so, what happened to Harry?"

"He tried to chat up half of Hogwarts girls, including Pansy Parkinson and a load of
Slytherins and got bashed up for his pains."

"I suppose he's ok." Ginny asked, concerned.

"Well he's walking. I haven't dared find out." Hermione sounded flat.

"I think you should."

"I can't."

"Yes you can, you can tell him the truth and say sorry."

"And that'll sort it. You know Harry."

"I thought *you* did. Better than I." Ginny pointed out.

"I do, I suppose…. anyway, what happened to you?" Hermione changed the subject to give
her mind a breather.

"It was really odd; I drank the potion so I could chat up Michael."

"Ginny?"

She shrugged. "I'm a sucker for big eyes."

"And?"

"Well first of all I was wearing a pretty dress, the floral one that I know he likes. Then
all of a sudden I had this urge to change it for stockings and well, this. Then, I found myself
chatting up Garth Fellowes!"

"You can't stand him!"

"And then Vince Tollerton."

"Yeuchh, Ginny."

"And then, well, let’s just say it was interesting. I think I’ve found the love interest in
my life."

*Though next time he casts 'Erecto Perpetualis’ I’m using 'Vulvus Continuum'.
That’ll show him.*

"Go on!"

"No, not today. Maybe when you come and tell me all about you and Harry doing it."

*Fat chance.*

"Spoilsport."

Hermione held out her hand.

"You can slap my wrist."

"Me? I think that's Harry's job."

"Harry smack me, I don't think so."

"I don't see why not so, you did get him beaten up."

"Ginny, being smacked is demeaning."

"I thought that was the general idea Hermione. You do something wrong and get
smacked."

Hermione studied her wrist.

"I've never been smacked."

Ginny's eyes widened.

"Never?"

"Not ever."

"Well you are a goody *goody* then aren't you?"

Hermione winced at the emphasis. She realised there was an element of contempt in Ginny's
voice.

*I can’t help it if I don’t do naughty things; it doesn’t make me boring, does it?*

"I suppose you have then."

"Of course, on a fair few occasions."

"I can't imagine your dad...”

"..try mum."

"Molly?!"

Hermione considered. Molly certainly had a temper.

"I don't mean we're always being smacked, but there are a lot of us and we
are...”

"..a handful," interrupted Hermione with a sudden grin.

"And me being the only girl." Ginny lowered her voice, not that there was anyone else
in the room.

"I've had three proper spankings, y'know, where you...” she saw Hermione's
blank look, "you don't know do you..." she trailed, "well the first was for
bullying Ron."

"Bullying Ron!"

"I used to hit him all the time and he wouldn't hit me back cause I was a girl. So mum
did it for him, across her knee, on my bare bottom with a hairbrush. I shouted the house down it
stung so much …and it was just so embarrassing."

*Bare bottom! Hairbrush! I can’t imagine it.*

"I bet."

"It was. The second was for mixing two potions and drinking them...”

"..Ginny, you didn't!"

"I did. I was told not to do such a thing so I did. Unfortunately one was granddad’s
medicine that had cost three Galleons from Gruntingthorpe and Chalmers and the other was mum's
anti-baby potion. As there weren't any side effects, I had an alternative side effect
demonstrated," she finished ruefully, "and that one *did* hurt. I’d managed to pick
mum and dad's wedding anniversary."

Even Hermione could work that one out.

"Whoops."

*If someone did that to me, could I sit down for a week?*

Ginny nodded. "Whoops. I couldn't sit down for a week."

"And the third?"

Ginny reddened.

"No... that's enough. Wait 'til you've been spanked."

"I've no intention of being..." Hermione trailed off.

She considered, pulling at a curl of her ever exploding hair.

"So if Harry spanked me that would be retribution for me getting him beaten up?" she
spoke slowly, going over the implications.

"Yes, I mean it’s not as if he'd enjoy it." Ginny scored high for naiveté,
"probably not anyway. I can’t see Harry enjoying making you cry, not really," She trailed
off thoughtfully, “not Harry."

“Cry?” Hermione whispered.

*Cry, because of the pain or the humiliation or both?*

Her imagination failed her again.

There was a long pause, punctuated only by the crackle of the fire.

Hermione cleared her throat that seemed to have gotten rather dry during her furious
thinking.

"Ginny?"

“Hmm?”

“So, I get him to sit down, and then I bend over his knee and get him to smack my bottom with a
hairbrush?”

*Easy isn’t it, once you work it out.*

Ginny considered.

“So you’re going to let Harry lift your skirt and pull down your underwear?”

“Certainly not!” Hermione snapped, “*he* isn’t touching my underwear.”

“Why ever not? Don’t you want to sleep with him?”

“Well, I,” Hermione stopped. She had not really got that far. The filing cabinet drawer had
never been fully opened.

*Sleep with him, have him lying on top of me and pushing his thingie into me. It’s my body, do
I want that? Do I?*

*Oh God.*

There was another silence. A smile played across Ginny’s face.

*I do don’t I. I really do, I’m just not prepared to admit it.*

“…Ahh,” she started to speak, “umm …”

“You’ve gone bright red.”

“Ginny, this isn’t easy. It *is* my virginity we’re talking about.”

“You’re just making it difficult. Somehow I can’t see you or Harry putting it about. It is him
you want, *isn’t it*?”

“Yes.” Hermione spoke softly into the pause.

“Well then. Get on with it” she gestured, “come here.”

Hermione did as she was told.

“Try over my knee.”

“Well, I suppose you deserve to smack me as well.”

Ginny laughed.

“I’m not smacking *you*; you’d probably give me detention.”

Hermione giggled.

“That would look good in the Report Book.”

*How do you bend over someone’s knee with a modicum of grace?*

She knelt at Ginny’s side.

*No, that doesn’t work.*

She stood up.

“Put your hand on my knee and lower yourself over.” Ginny suggested.

“So where does my bottom go?”

“In the middle, sticking up.”

*Oh God, this is not going to be good.*

She carefully lay over Ginny’s lap. The position meant her legs were stretched out, her toes
looking for purchase; whilst her arms, locked supported her, stopped her head touching the
carpet.

*This is horrid. I... what is she doing!*

To Hermione’s horror Ginny lifted her dress and dragged her knickers down her thighs.

“Ginny!” her hand flew back to cover her rear whilst she pressed her thighs together.

“See, you need to lift your skirt first.”

Hermione slid back down onto her knees and looked up at Ginny.

“I’ll have to go and practice.”

They stared at each other.

*Only Hermione would practice being punished*.

"So, what are you going to say to Harry?"

"I don't know, 'sorry Harry, I deliberately got you beaten up.' That's a
great start."

"Come on Hermione, you can do better than that. And stop feeling sorry for yourself. You
got yourself into this mess.”

“I know, I know.”

*Don’t I just.*

Hermione sat in her room, staring at her dressing table mirror. She stared at it, a total blank,
trying to assess the situation.

*I don’t know what to do. This might be my one chance. Who am I to look at? Crap hair, big
teeth and floppy great boobs.*

*Do I jump in his bed, Plan A?*

*Do I go for Ginny’s plan? That can be Plan B.*

She pulled out her desk chair and piled some cushions on it.

“Harry” she addressed the pillows, fiddling with her hem line “I’ve something to say.”

She adjusted her dress again, undoing the top button. She’d changed her outfit. The dress was
easier to take off.

*And lift up.*

Hermione Granger took a deep breath and quelled her shaking heart.

**Act The Fifth**

There was a soft tap on Harry's door.

"Come in." he called.

It was Hermione, looking worried. Wonderful but worried.

"Well that didn't go to plan" he said ruefully.

She was in front of him, tears in her eyes. Her fingers touched his bruised cheek and swollen
lip.

"Harry, I'm sorry. It's my fault. And Harry, will you go out with me?"

"Fault? Go out? Me?" he asked, "as in go out together? You and me?”

"Yes, as in hold hands, ‘kiss me like I’ve never been and continue to the bedroom
scene’." She quoted the potion spell.

When Hermione went for it, she didn’t mess about.

Harry's mouth fell open.

"You and me?"

"Yes."

His face split into the biggest grin she'd ever seen.

*Ohwowohwowohwowwowwow.*

"Can I kiss you?"

"That's the general idea."

He moved his battered face to hers and kissed her tentatively on the lips.

"There" he said, "sorry but my lip's a mess."

"Harry!" wailed Hermione, bursting into tears and throwing her arms about him.

"Not too tight." he told her, "bruised side."

That only made her cry even more.

Long minutes passed.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"Could you repair my glasses?"

She drew back and smiled at him.

"That’s how we met." She pointed out.

“You knew more about me than I did.”

She picked up her wand.

"Occulus Reparo." she uttered.

Harry positioned the glasses on his face, trying not to touch his black eye.

"That’s better, I can see you properly."

Even with her tear stained face the object of his desires looked fantastic, and in that short
muggle dress again.

*I wonder if she’s got those pale blue knickers on.*

"Harry?"

"What's wrong?" he detected her tone, surely she wasn't going to change her
mind and make it the shortest relationship on record.

"I've something to tell you Harry."

Alarm bells were ringing.

"You've another boyfriend?" he suggested.

"No, no, worse than that...”

"Worse?" He searched his imagination. "You've done the bedroom bit?"

"Harry! No I have not! No ... It's nothing like that."

"What then?"

"You're going to be cross with me."

"I am?"

She nodded and took his hand.

*Here we go. Deep breath.*

"I altered the potion so it would go wrong” she blurted.

"What!"

"I was jealous; I thought you were going to chat up Susan Bones so I altered the
spell."

"Hermione! Susan Bones?" Harry touched his face, digesting the information, "so
all this was due to that?"

"I'm sorry, so sorry Harry; don't be too angry with me."

She looked at his face as various emotions flicked across it. He glanced at the ceiling and then
burst out laughing.

"So much for plans” he grinned at her.

"You don't mind?" she was incredulous

"Oh I mind, I can't even kiss you at the minute, but it’s still got a funny
side."

"If I was you I'd...”

"....I know exactly how you'd've reacted, but that’s you and this is me."

The object of his desires kissed him on the cheek.

*Here we go, Plan A.*

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Take me to bed."

There was a pause as Harry digested the request.

"As in..?" He trailed.

"As in taking clothes off together sort of bed."

He looked at her and their eyes held each other.

"No," he said simply.

Her eyes widened.

"No? Harry, don’t you want to have me, umm, with no clothes on? Harry?" It was almost
a whine.

"Of course I do ‘Mione, but tonight, it wouldn't be right. Besides, I can't kiss
you, my face is a mess and my side’s killing me."

Hermione sighed. That was Plan A out of the window.

"When will it be right?"

"We'll know" he said enigmatically.

"We can sit on the bed though can't we?"

"Course."

And they did so.

They sat on the edge of the bed, touching, arms about each other, in companionable silence as
all of the last few years thoughts about each other slid gently past.

Harry's mind whirled. A tampered potion, a contrite Hermione, a girlfriend.

*And she wants to do it with me.*

He looked down at her legs, knees demurely together, Hermione's legs.

*Lying on top of her, thighs, wrapped round mine.*

*Harry!*

He couldn't picture it. Hermione with no clothes on.

*I bet she looks fantastic. Will she like me with nothing on, I’m hardly Oliver Wood.*

*Will she whisper my name?*

"Harry?"

"Hmm." He sat with a pleasant glow across his whole body. A feeling of peace he
couldn’t yet understand.

Hermione went for Plan B.

"Spank me." her voice was suddenly hoarse and she felt herself tremble as she got the
words out.

Harry nodded absently.

"If you want" he said.

Hermione stood and crossed to his dressing table. He watched her move, her legs, her rear under
the dress, the gentle sway of her hips, her hair bouncing slightly. Hermione in a different light.
His girlfriend.

*Dumdedumdedumdedum, dumdedumdedumdum.*

Hermione placed her wand on top of a book before she studied his dressing table and spotted the
flaw in her plan, there was no hair brush. Harry used a comb.

*I am getting fed up with Plans!*

She spotted his clothes brush.

*It’s a bit big but it’ll have to do.*

*Here we go, keep it together Hermione!*

She turned, clothes brush in her shaking fingers.

Harry sat there with a silly grin.

*Let’s get this started before he realises what he’s doing and says no.*

She was by his side, placing the clothes brush by his hand, hooking her hair over her ear. To
his amazement she bent at the knees, pressed one hand on his thigh and then lay down over and
across his thighs, her bottom proud. She had hitched up her dress to reveal a pair of blue knickers
that he had seen before. With surprising dexterity she slid the underwear down her thighs and
calves, leaving Harry to stare at her bare and rather lovely curvy bottom.

*What did she ask me to do?*

"Hermione?" he asked faintly.

"Do as I told you Harry, spank me with the brush; thirty six should do" she told him
sternly.

Harry picked up the clothes brush. He studied it quizzically.

*Maybe it’s a Granger family ritual.*

"'Mione, are you sure about this?"

"Harry!" Her voice was slightly muffled by her hair, "If you don't I'll
never speak to you again."

She failed to see the irony of the statement.

The room seemed very warm to Harry. It all seemed a bit odd.

*Well, what do I do?*

Hermione stared at the carpet, aware without seeing, of his gaze on her rump. She too felt,
strange.

“Harry!” she growled.

*I s’pose.*

"Yow!" She gasped as the brush suddenly landed with a sharp smack across her left
buttock.

"Sorry, did it hurt?" he asked worriedly.

"It's supposed to Harry, *please* get on with it."

So Harry Potter spanked his girlfriend.

Thwack! ...yow! ...smack! ...oww! ...smack! ... Ahh!

After half a dozen her bottom had started turning a burning red. One foot lifted from the floor
as she grunted at his effort.

*This is awful, humiliating and it hurts*.

He landed more, some landing on top of previous blows and stinging mightily.

Hermione felt tears trickle.

Another landed, catching her bottom perfectly. She jerked and a sob escaped. Her thighs, which
had been carefully clenched, slid apart across his lap.

Harry, brush raised, stared at this sight before him. He was already finding smacking Hermione,
interesting, to say the least, but this...

*I can see. I can see those bits*. *Oh my, oh my.*

He became aware of her soft sobbing and the twitch of her thighs and rear.

“Harry, get it over with.” Her voice was hoarse.

The clothes brush swung down again.

Hermione squealed, swallowing some bile. A tear dripped to the carpet.

*So this is pain.*

Her buttocks and tops of her thighs were on fire. She knew he could see her private parts.

*This had better be worth it.*

She screwed her wet eyes shut.

*This really is pain. I need the toilet.*

Everything was so sore and sensitive the slightest touch stung and it wasn't a soft touch
she was receiving.

She cried out again, her foot lifting once more.

"Thirty five." she heard him say.

*If I don’t get the Healing Charm right this is going to be really awful.*

The last one hurt the most, whether he had put more weight behind it, whether it landed just
right: Hermione jerked up with a full blooded scream.

"Thirty six."

Harry threw the brush down and sat there bemused. Across his lap the love of his dreams wriggled
and sobbed where he'd beaten her, at her request, and he found himself strangely excited. He
stared at her bottom that burned an angry, sore red and wanted very much to kiss it better.

Into the silence there was the sound of their breathing and Hermione's weeping.

Time passed.

*Well Hermione, thank god you're a good girl, I couldn't go through that again. Funny
thing though. It hurts like hell but there's something else*...

Carefully she eased off of his lap, pulling down her dress and retrieving her knickers. She
stood on trembling legs. There was something starting to smoulder within her.

Harry's face was red and had concern written all across it.

He looked into her tear stained face and suddenly realised what love was.

Hermione couldn't fathom his look but liked what she saw.

"Harry!" She flung her arms about him and kissed him heavily, but carefully, on the
un-bruised parts of his face and lips.

He stood up and put his arms about her. She sagged gratefully into his arms. They embraced for a
quiet age, turning slowly across the floor.

Inside Hermione could feel a fire burning.

“You smell nice” he told her.

"Harry?" she whispered, reaching for her wand, "take me to bed."

He opened his mouth to reply...

**The curtain falls upon our humble Entertainment.**



2. Neville Longbottom and the Chat-Up Potion
--------------------------------------------

**Neville Longbottom and the return of the Chat-Up Potion.**

**Being an account of what happened when Mr. Longbottom made a request of our Hero and Heroine.
Also being a disgraceful litany of almost continuous consorting of the most intimate kind that
causes the author to blush frequently as the story is brought to the reader.**

**Featuring:**

**Messr’s Longbottom and Potter**

**Miss’s Granger, Lovegood and Bones**

**Together with a full supporting cast of Our Favourite Students from** **Hogwarts**
**School** **for the Magically Gifted.**

**With Thanks to:**

**Poppy, for once more attacking this manuscript with due gusto.**

**Ann and Nora for their generous use of expletives when describing the depths to which our
Heroes sank.**

**Prologue**

**To remind our more forgetful readers of What Has Passed Before.**

Harry Potter conceives a plan to woo his One True Love (to whit, Hermione Granger) He inveigles
her to assist him in the making of a Chat-Up Potion, featuring the Dangerous Aphrodisiac, the
Plummer Mushroom (knowledge about which Our Hero sadly lacked).

Hermione, Our Heroine, consorts with the Green Goddess Of Jealousy, believing Harry to be in
love with Susan Bones and doctors the Potion.

Our Hero consumes the Potion and instead of chatting up His One True Love, proceeds to put it
about the female half of the School, with painful consequences. Also, most unfortunately, Ginerva
Weasley; desperate to woo Michael Winner once more, also samples the potion. She is soon found with
Draco Malfoy, enjoying the most intimate practises with him until he is quite drained, she can
hardly walk and Love Is In The Air.

Our Heroine, horrified at what she has done and filled with Remorse, throws herself at our
Hero’s mercy and insists he spanks her most cruelly for her pains. Our Redoubtable Hero, believing
this to be a Granger Family Ritual duly obliges and Our Couple are United.

Read On.

**Act the First.**

“… are you sure?” he asked.

“Of course I’m sure” she insisted.

Inside her a rising tide of need was overwhelming the sore hurt of her battered rear.

“Please Harry, please!” she pleaded, “it just seems right.”

“Hermione, I…” he took a deep breath, “certain parts of me hurt.”

“ahh, ohh, hah!”

Her head dropped.

“Sorry Harry.”

“So am I ‘Mione, so am I.”

She took a breath.

“I’ve a spell Harry,” she glanced toward her wand.

He stepped back half a pace from their enduring embrace.

“Go on then.”

She moved away and picked up her wand.

“Numbnion Poena.”

Hermione cast it on herself.

The smarting, itching pain to her rump was gone.

“It works” she told Harry and cast it on him.

“Woah!” he staggered back from the spell.

“See,” she moved close, eyes bright.

“You are sure?” he asked again.

She placed her hands on his hips.

“Harry, I’m sure.”

Hermione stepped back, hand behind her. Harry watched, mesmerised, as she shed her dress with
surprising grace.

Before him stood his Dream, clad in a pretty bra and matching underwear.

Hermione touched her rear.

*I can’t feel anything! It’s all numb!*

Harry touched his jaw, he felt nothing.

“Errionnee” he managed, articulation beyond him.

“Harry?”

“Ieeieeaaannteeelaaaffinnngg”

“Pardon?”

He pressed his fingers to his jaw.

“I can’f feel a ffing” he slurred.

“Oh no!”

“Does thisss mean I ffave ‘oo schpannk ‘oo aagayn?”

Hermione worked it out.

“You are Never, Ever, spanking me again!” she snapped, “It’s a domination thing.”

“Uhhh?” Harry managed, totally confused.

The burning need inside of her carried her forward. Close, she undid his trousers and pushed her
hand in to hold him.

There was no response.

“Harry?”

“Whhatth?”

“I’m, I’m, can’t you feel my hand?”

“Noo, I caann’t feelll anyffing.”

Hermione gritted her teeth.

“Harry?”

“Mhhioone?”

“Can we go to bed to sleep together?”

“”Courshhe.”

Harry opened his eyes into the morning sun. He frowned briefly and rolled over.

Hermione sat, chin on her knee, watching him. She wore one of his white school shirts.

“Morning sleepy head” she said softly.

He grinned up at her.

“Morning Hermione.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” he touched his mouth.

“I got the right spell this time” she told him.

“Thank goodness for that.” His eyes drifted down. The shirt curved interestingly over her chest.
However, it wasn’t done up all the way down and Hermione wasn’t wearing anything else.

Harry’s groin reacted as only a young man’s groin can. It went from somnolence to something
impressive in seconds flat. His face went red just as quick.

“Harry?”

She moved onto her knees and leaned over, kissing him. Of its own volition his hand slid under
the shirt and up her side.

She sighed.

*At last, nothing else can go wrong, surely.*

His fingers ran across a curve.

“Mmmm, yes.”

She sat back and undid the shirt.

“No!” Harry pulled her back down, “you look fantastic like that.”

“I do?” she asked, curious.

“You look really sexy.”

“Me, sexy?”

“I’ll say.”

She pushed a curious hand under the sheet.

“I see,” she pushed the sheet down and took in Harry’s impressive interest.

“Did I do that?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“It’s big isn’t it.”

“I’ve no idea.”

She touched it tentatively. It twitched.

She giggled.

*Right Hermione, let’s get this right.*

She went to her mental library and consulted Prolongia Passion’s ‘Guide to the Young Witch on
the Essentials for Successful Relationships with Young Wizards.’

*‘Wizards are very proud of their penis. Any compliment will suitably inflate both it and
their ego. A penis can be inserted into three places on a witch. Many wizards prefer the
application of a witch’s mouth to other forms of penetration. Maybe this is because it stops us
witches from talking! Young wizards are particularly keen on this form of gratification, so, for a
treat, surprise your partner with a different form of tongue lashing.’*

Hermione still wasn’t sure about the third place. Unless it was the armpit.

She was sure about the surprise part though.

*This will surprise him, show him I’m not prim.*

She leaned over him, kissing the hairs on his chest, carefully holding his quivering erection.
Harry groaned. Her tongue flicked a nipple. He ran his hand through her hair.

She kissed lower and lower. His penis reared in front of her.

*It’s huge! And a bit sticky.*

Harry groaned again.

“Hermione?”

She took the plunge and closed her mouth over the top of it.

“Hermione!” Harry’s voice rose an octave.

*It’s warm and a bit salty.*

She sucked on it.

“Hermiohhmygod!”

She jerked backward as he exploded in her mouth, spitting semen out as he continued to ejaculate
everywhere.

“Yakk! Yeuchh! Ughhh!” She turned to him, “you never said it did that! It’s disgusting!”

Semen dribbled down her nose and chin, cooling rapidly.

“Well Hermione, what did you expect?”

She pulled off the shirt and wiped her face on it and then wiped his chest and belly and her
thighs and arm. “it’s horrible, it’s all sticky; Harry, really!”

She should have read further in her manual.

*A word of caution to our younger witches.* *The young wizard has poor control over his
ejaculation, he may go from ready to finished in seconds. We strongly advise you to get your needs
satisfied before his, as often, once he has finished, he will either go to sleep or go home.
Indeed, a sip from ‘Plummer’s Punch’, available from Braggit and Gettit may help you arrive with
him.*

“Some manners, just doing that in my mouth; you could have told me you wanted to, not just do it
without a by your leave!”

“Hermione!” Harry shook his head. “I didn’t want to, you made me.”

“All I did was suck it.”

“It was a very good suck and I was very excited.”

She subsided.

“It’s all my fault again. I can’t get anything right. Now it’s all over and I’m still a
virgin.”

“Leave it for a minute and then try again and see if it wakes him back up.”

“I’m not sure I want all that over me again, what if it had got in my hair?”

He put his hand on her shoulder and pulled her down.

“Hermione, shut up.”

“I .mmnphh.”

He kissed her. Properly.

There was a long silence apart from the chirrup of a bird outside and the occasional rustle of
the sheets. His hand slowly explored her from neck to belly, eliciting gasps of surprise and
pleasure.

*Wowowow**! All these curves and interesting places!*

*Wow Harry, that feels good!*

He kissed her breasts, nervous in case of admonishment.

“Ohh, Harry, yes, yes” she whispered, unable to move, her eyes studying every detail of the bed
canopy.

“Is that alright?”

“Do it again, a bit harder.”

“Like this?”

He tried again.

“Yesss, ohhh, yesssss”

The canopy blurred and the heat she had felt the previous evening returned to her belly.

His hand pushed lower, circling her belly button; making her giggle.

“Tickles.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

His fingers moved until they touched the first of her pubic hair. They stopped.

*Harry, please, please.*

*Dare I, she might be cross with me I, ohh!*

Hermione closed her hand over his and pushed it between her thighs which slid apart across the
cotton sheet.

His fingers; palm on her mound, folded down into where she was hot, wet and waiting.

“Ahhh, yes.”

*Oh my, my head has exploded, oh my, oh my. Harry, my Harry.*

The sight and sound of Hermione sexually aroused galvanised Harry’s recovery.

She felt something hard pressing against her thigh.

It made things even better.

*We are going to do it! Do it, do it, do it!*

To say Harry was in Seventh Heaven was an understatement.

All of a sudden he had a naked, willing Hermione next to him.

*I’ve got to get it right.*

Dear reader, he did. He really did.

*Harry, oh Harry. If you don’t do something, ohh, your fingers! Ahh.*

*Again.*

*I want you. I do. More than the world and O.W.L.S. and everything.*

*Please.*

Harry, with stars in his eyes and the sounds of Hermione moaning beside him, rolled over onto
her. It was what he had to do. In the end he didn’t really register her body, only the need and the
look in her eyes that meant everything to him.

*You’re heavy on top of me.*

*And hot.*

*Mmmph, that* *is a kiss!*

*It’s so big, please don’t spray that stuff everywhere again.*

*It wants to go; here.*

*Oh my.*

*Oh!*

“Hermione! Oh my!”

“Harry, don’t stop.”

“I can’t!”

“Don’t!”

Harry Potter pressed into his girlfriend. Exultant, as his penis discovered, took and
overwhelmed her. As it did him.

“Oh, Hermione. Ee,”

“Please, Harry, uhh.”

She arched, squealing. Her legs wrapped about him. The soles of her feet pressing into his
thighs.

“You ok?”

“Don’t stop!” she gasped, “do it!”

*That hurt, it stings, I can feel him, I feel, I can feel him moving, I…*

“Ohh!” she gave a small gasp of pleasure, just in time, as Harry groaned.

“Hermione! I, I..mmmmm”

She felt a hot spurt inside her and the feeling of pleasure intensified.

Harry felt as if his insides were trying to get out.

He was moving in and out, out of control, groaning.

Finally he slowed,

*Bloody hell that was amazing, amazingly amazing!*

“Hermione, I, well, wow!”

She looked up at his flushed face and could feel his heart pounding.

*Was that it? Surely not.*

*…..Dear witch, when first you indulge in matters of the flesh, aside the pain that may occur
to a greater or lesser extent you may find the matter less than satisfactory. Do not concern
yourself, for matters will improve as you grow more confident and your beau more able to control
himself. Should he continue to have a short active cycle then may I suggest Braggit and Gettit’s
‘Arrestor cream’ available by Owl order and delivered in plain brown packaging. Should this prove
unsatisfactory then I suggest you trade in your young wizard for an older, more experienced model;
why I, myself, when a young witch, fresh from Hogwarts……*

“Harry, oh Harry!” for some reason she had tears in her eyes.

“Hermione?”

“Nothing, nothing, well everything” she pulled his mouth to hers and kissed him with a ferocity
she didn’t know she had.

**Act The Second**

Harry Potter sat on a leather couch in the Gryffindor Common Room, waiting for Hermione

A large book rested face down across his lap.

It was just as well, as Harry was idly considering his girlfriend and such idle consideration
produced, well, bulging results.

He heard the entrance door close and crossed his feet in reflex.

It was Neville, looking his usual hot and bothered self.

“Harry!”

“Neville.”

Neville glanced about, disconcerted. There was only Harry in the Common Room.

He sat on the settee, subsiding somewhat.

“Harry?”

“Neville?”

“Harry?”

“Neville?”

“Umm … Harry?”

“Neville?”

*Is this a competition on remembering our names?*

“Harry? Can I ask a question?”

“Course Nev. Ask away mate.”

Neville leaned close.

“I fancy this girl.”

“Good, who?”

He leaned closer.

“Luna.”

“Luna!”

“Ssshhhh!!”

“Sorry … Luna?” he whispered.

“Yes, what’s wrong with her?”

“Nothing Nev, nothing at all. Nice girl, good body on her, good fun, it’s just she’s … “

“Odd?”

“Odd, yes … odd.”

*That is an understatement Neville.*

The fire crackled and threw a few hopeful sparks.

“Well,” managed Neville, “d’you remember that Potion?”

“You mean, *that* Potion?”

“Well, yes.”

“But it didn’t work!”

“It would have worked if Hermione hadn’t doctored it.”

“Doctored it?” asked Harry, innocently.

“Harry?”

“Neville?”

*Not again, please!*

“We all know about it.”

“You do?”

“Apparently you can’t have an argument in the Girls Dormitory’s without being overheard.”

“Make it again?” repeated Hermione, running a finger down his chest, still damp from their
exertions. Her breast brushed his chest, raising the nipple.

“Yes, only this time properly.”

“Harry!” her finger touched the head of his weary member, recouping after the severe demands
made upon it by a rapacious Hermione.

“Well, I don’t think Neville can cope with a bunch of Slytherins.”

“Hmmph.”

She considered, her finger absently wreaking havoc in his groin.

“I’ve no choice have I.”

“No. I consider it an obligation on your part.”

She stretched up.

Harry closed his eyes. A naked, arched Hermione would set him off and he really needed to sleep
with Quidditch practise at dawn.

“I’ll make it” she told him, “If you help.”

“Of course I’ll help.”

She took hold of him.

“Hermione, please?”

“Spoilsport.”

**Act the Third**

It never ceased to amaze Harry how many different outfits Hermione could find to wear.

The one she presented herself in today was, well disappointing.

She wore a calf length jersey cotton skirt; tight on her hips, flaring out lower down, in brown,
together with a cream long sleeved teeshirt, plain, tight and, well, to Harry, ordinary.

She was prepared this time with long leather boots to stop herself getting bitten.

It was a sunny Saturday morning.

Students lazed about the grounds, some studying piles of scribbled upon parchment in preparation
for their fast approaching exams; others having a Saturday morning laze about.

Dean Thomas had put away his football boots for a couple of months and was trying to teach a
bemused group of Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors the vagaries and intricacies of cricket. A strange
muggle game that even muggles didn’t understand.

Millicent Bulstrode sat by herself, tending her cat and wondering why it had bald patches in its
fur.

Draco Malfoy lay on his back staring sunward. He blinked, enjoying the white searing across the
dark of his closed eyes.

He tortured himself. Next Saturday he’d be meeting Ginny in the Stoned Garden. So Granger would
be there, but it was a start.

*Ginny, Ginny*.

It was the look in her eyes as he’d ejaculated into her some six weeks earlier. It was her
reading of his eyes as well.

“Potty and the Mudblood are off to the forest,” remarked Crabbe.

Draco sighed.

“Lucky them.”

“Draco, are you alright. You seem … ummm?”

Crabbe turned to Goyle.

“Odd?” suggested Goyle.

Draco summoned himself.

He sat up in an elegant movement.

“The only odd thing about me is that I allow two idiots like you anywhere near me!”

he snapped.

Crabbe smiled in relief.

“Great Draco, you’re great.”

Susan Bones and Luna Lovegood were indulging in some callisthenic exercises; something Susan had
picked up from a book Ernie had loaned her.

This was causing great interest amongst a number of the male students of Hogwarts.

Luna had researched exercise clothing and come up with a brilliant white cotton teeshirt tight
as could be and a matching short skirt with a split up one thigh, from something called ‘tennis’
that involved a lot of women in aforementioned apparel grunting as they played ‘tennis’.

She and Susan stretched and bent, arched and spread, oblivious.

Neville, Ron, Seamus and Ernie watched with interest. They were not alone.

“He’s very manly” Pansy said, watching Harry and Hermione walk down the slope.

“He’s a Gryff and a halfblood” pointed out Vera Worthy.

“So, his knuckles don’t scrape the ground when he walks, unlike half of Slytherin.”

Vera cackled, “True, but he’s been putting it up that mudblood.”

“So, I’d show him how pureblood rides a lot better than a muggle.” Pansy wiggled her hips in
demonstration.

They ventured into the forest, wands at the ready.

It was some time before Harry spotted some Tallis flowers, high up a tree trunk.

“Pink or white?” he asked.

“Blue,” she giggled.

“’Mione…”

“White, and you can get them.”

“I’ll need a leg up.”

“If your shoes are clean.”

Hermione watched as he climbed the tree..

Love is a wonderful thing and she’d found it.

She could hardly wait for him to reach the ground and put the flowers in their trug.

To his surprise she suddenly kissed him passionately, pulling him to her as she leaned back
against the tree.

“Got five minutes?” she asked him.

“Of course,” his hands were already pulling up her top to find her naked beneath.

“Surprise!” she sang.

“’Mione” he said softly, his hands moulding.

Her fingers, deft and precise, undid his trousers. He sprang into her palm as he, in turn,
hitched up the skirt.

“Mione!”

“Another surprise.”

That made it even simpler for him. Her choice of clothing wasn’t so boring after all.

She pushed her hips forward and looked down to watch him penetrate her, hand on his chest. It
gave her a thrill separate to the feel of him in her to see it happen. It was all so new and
exciting.

She looked up into his eyes.

“Harry” she whispered.

*All day everyday forever.*

The walk back to the school was a slow, indulgent stroll.

“It’s not fair” Pansy told her friend, “look at her, she’s been well had.”

“Get Draco to give you one.”

“I wish; he was none to happy when I shouted ‘Dark Lord Fuck Me’ in the middle of our shag.”

“You idiot.”

“I know. Sometimes being in Slytherin is such a bloody pain.”

Susan stretched as she stood up. Her body, in its training clothes, raised a few appreciative
eyebrows. She spotted Harry and Hermione walking hand in hand and sighed.

*Oh to be Hermione. Just once.*

*Why doesn’t anyone want to go out with me?*

Ron spotted Harry and Hermione as he waited for Dean to bowl to him. The way they moved together
made his heart race, despite his own clandestine relationship.

Dean clean bowled him.

Professor McGonagall watched as the young pair made their way toward the main door.

She sighed. Peace before the storm. She wondered if she would weather it.

They drew close.

“Harry, Hermione?” she asked.

They looked at her guiltily.

She managed a smile, despite her instinctive reproach.

“Love is a powerful thing, use it well.”

She watched Hermione’s eyes register a series of worried thoughts.

“Enjoy yourselves” she managed; the future was so uncertain.

“McGonagall was odd” Harry commented.

Hermione paused.

“She worries about you.”

He stopped in the middle of the passage.

“Me?”

“Of course.”

“Why me?”

“We all worry about you Harry. I sometimes think that McGonagall wishes she was your
guardian.”

“Oh. Hmm. Interesting” he said thoughtfully.

They reached Hermione’s room where the contents of the trug were laid out on a table.

“Just the mushroom” said Hermione thoughtfully, “another night time trip.”

She took a knife and began to prepare the ingredients.

They divested themselves of the cloak and Harry lit his wand with a soft “Lumos.”

“You look nice” he told her, taking in the tight trousers and jumper.

“That’s the idea Harry,” she kissed him briefly on the cheek.

“Ah!” out of the corner of her eye she spotted their quarry, “there’s one growing upright.”

Harry watched as the mushroom blossomed before them.

“Hmm” he muttered, intrigued.

“Nearly midnight” Hermione told him.

Hermione carefully stroked the Plummer mushroom under the light from Harry’s wand.

“You must have a way with them” said Harry nervously.

“What do you mean?”

“They sprout for you.”

“So?”

“I’ve read up on this.”

“You read up on a subject voluntarily Harry?”

“Well, I was curious, information on the Plummer Mushroom is hard to come by, I had to borrow a
book from the Restricted Section.”

“I’m impressed, and?”

“They don’t just grow without a reason. Neither do they like being picked by just anybody.”

“I’m not anybody Harry Potter, I’m your girlfriend.”

“You weren’t the first time we picked it.”

She giggled.

“You silly goose. I was in love with you then.”

“Oh.. Ahh.” He considered her words carefully.

“I trust you love me.”

“Of course I do. You know that.”

“Tell me then.”

“Hermione, I love you, big lots.”

“And I love you masses as well.”

They kissed gaily.

The clock struck midnight.

She plucked the mushroom.

“Yeuchh! Not again!”

“What?”

“It’s spat all over me, Yucckk! Yeuch, it keeps happening to me, if it’s not a mushroom it’s
you.”

“You shouldn’t suck so hard.”

“Hhmph, don’t be coarse”

“You have to be careful when you pick them.”

“Now you tell me.”

Hermione knelt and placed the plucked mushroom in her trug. Absently she rubbed her hands
together, trying to get rid of the sticky secretion from the Plummer mushroom.

*Dear reader, she should have known better.*

“Harry!”

“What?”

Hermione was on fire. It had spread from her palms to her head, breasts and groin in a few brief
seconds.

Her breasts were bursting in her bra, her nipples so hard they ached.

Between her thighs her sex was a hot liquid need.

In her head all she could see was Harry.

“Kiss me.”

It was the most coherent thing her exploding mind could think of.

He did so.

*Dear reader, he should have known better.*

She un buttoned his jeans and her hand, still sticky, forced in, grabbing him.

“Hermione!”

“Harry, I need it now!”

“’Mione?!”

“Harry!”

“Mione, your hand’s sticky… Ohh.”

Ohh was an understatement of epic proportions.

There was an explosion in his groin.

“Harry!” she squeaked, “you’re eager.”

“It’s that bloody mushroom you idiot!” he gasped at her, “it’s used in aphrodisiacs and
rejuvenation potions. Now we know why.”

“Sod that Harry, if you don’t give me one I’m going to explode!”

“Wipe your hands off!” he demanded.

She let go of his ballooning penis and knelt, wiping her hands.

A velvet wave swept through her.

“Uhh!” she moaned, “I’ve come.”

Harry was too busy pushing away his clothes and looking down in amazement.

“Hermione!”

She looked up.

“Harry!”

She took in his engorged part.

“It must be twelve inches long!”

“It feels it!” groaned Harry.

He looked at Hermione and her wide eyes and his self control deserted him as undiluted Plummer
Mushroom secretions took over.

“This is going to be the shag of your life!”

“I bloody hope so!”

He dragged her jumper to her shoulders. She was already freeing her bra that threatened to rip
apart from the swelling of her breasts that now assumed the proportions more usually featured in
Witch Pin-Up Magazines.

“My tits!” she gasped, looking down at the large pink nipples. She touched one and gasped as an
intense sensation shot through her.

He barely took them in, already undoing the tight black slacks she wore and tugging them and her
underwear down her thighs. He sank to his knees and pulled her down to straddle him. He was now an
impossible fourteen inches long, with matching girth.

Hermione needed no second invitation despite the constriction of her clothing.

She sank onto him with a loud moan, slick with excitement. She glanced between them. It was
impossibly tight and made her gasp but to her amazement he fitted in, all the way. Perfectly.

“Impossible!” she gasped. It felt like half of her was filled by him. Everything was stretched.
Everything was tingling.

She eased up and back down.

Harry snorted and forced his mouth over hers. In response her nails, suddenly talons, dug into
his back.

His hand pawed her breast and the large, pink nipple, eliciting a surprised gasp as the touch
sent further shock waves through her. She cried out as another wave engulfed her and bit his neck,
scratching her fingers down his back.

He grunted and took her hips, forcing her hard into his lap.

Hermione groaned. Another wave was building, looming.

They rutted, possessed. Minutes went by as the Plummer mushroom consumed them. Hermione urged
him on with words she never used. More time. She was bent double beneath him, then on top of him.
The clock struck the half hour and as if on cue Harry fired an endless torrent of red hot semen
into her. On and on it went as he pounded incoherently up into her, groaning in ecstasy as
fireworks dazzled his eyes and Hermione’s shrieks sounded a long way off.

“Fuck,” Hermione said with feeling, “what a stupid thing to do.”

“Hermione you said ‘fuck’” gasped Harry.

“I never did, did I?”

“Yes, just then and earlier.”

She frowned.

“I did didn’t I; and ‘fuck my cunt hard’ …” She dropped her forehead onto his shoulder, quiet
and embarrassed.

“Sorry Harry, sorry.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

He lifted her head and kissed her gently.

“It doesn’t matter” he repeated, “We better go. The noise we were making.”

She eased off of him.

“Yeuchh! I’m soaking wet Harry. That mushroom doesn’t do anything by halves.”

She quickly pulled her clothing back up.

“I’m going to need a shower” she took his hand, “and so are you.”

**Act the Fourth.**

Neville studied the small bottle intently.

“This is it?” he asked.

“Yes Neville” Hermione touched its stopper, “this is it and I trust; after the trouble we’ve
gone to; you’re going to try it.”

Neville squared up.

“Of course I am!”

“Good” Hermione un-stoppered the bottle and poured a measure into the stirrup cup on the
table.

She glanced up at the clock.

“Nice day, all afternoon Neville.”

Neville took a very deep breath and poured the potion down his throat.

“Strawberry?” he asked.

“For taste” Hermione told him, “now go and strut your stuff.”

“Strut your stuff?” asked Neville.

“It sounded right” Hermione told him, confused.

Neville went forth. In search of Luna.

Luna sat reading the Quibbler, wearing what appeared to be a bright orange knee length tee shirt
over green and white striped trousers.

Neville strode purposefully up.

“Good afternoon fair Luna,” he began.

“Hi Nev, draw up a tussock and join me.”

Neville looked round, “tussock? Oh! Tussock! Ha ha! Luna that’s very funny.”

He sat down next to her.

“I see you are perusing that fair and mighty organ, The Quibbler.”

“Nev?” she cocked her head.

“Its journalistic prowess has no equal.”

“Well,”

“However, it pales to insignificance, when compared to your own eloquent beauty.”

“Nev?”

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day, no, for thou art more lovely” he intoned.

“Nev?” Luna’s eyes grew larger.

“Fair maiden, thou art more fair than a rose in bloom.”

“Rose?”

“Aye, the fairest rose in all the world would wilt before the mirror of your beauty.”

“Nev, are you drunk?”

“Fair Luna, drunk only on the wine that is your grace.”

“That’s very nice Nev, but what’s this about?”

“Why dear Luna, I am here to woo your good offices so that we may step out together and parade
our love.”

Her mouth dropped open.

“Neville!”

“For I am, dear kind, lady, smitten by your fair self. Your grace and beauty dazzle me and your
conversation thrills me.”

“But Neville.”

“Together we shall tread the gold path of love to a leafy bower where our intimacy will be
consummated time and again.”

“Neville?” Luna ran the words by.

*Intimacy be consummated? I think that means he wants to take me to bed.*

“… sweet virgin, we shall sail the seas of pleasure.”

“Neville?”

“To heights of pleasure unalloyed.”

“Neville!” she snapped.

“Hmm?” his eyes refocused on her.

“I am not a virgin.”

“Oh, ahh… sweet once a virgin, we shall sail seas of pleasure greater than all those you have
sailed before with all of those you may have sailed with.”

Luna frowned.

“Neville, I don’t sleep around, ‘all those’, there’s only…”

She totalled

“…five, no, six; or is it seven. I’m not sure if both of the twins had me once or one of the
twins had me twice” she paused, “possibly eight; maybe nine, I don’t know after a couple of
Firewhisky’s, I just go with the flow; but it’s not a ship full.”

Neville’s jaw had dropped as her words managed to penetrate his potion addled brain.

“Sweet maiden, you are doubtless the most fair of all the graces within these walls, have so
many men drunk at the fountain of your delights.”

“I think it’s more I was an easy lay years ago.”

“Years ago?”

“No point in waiting in hanging about Neville, love may never come your way.”

“It has dear lady for I am truly smitten by your fair looks and eloquence, and your eight or
nine previous liaisons will surely stand you in good stead when we ride my member into the ecstasy
of the purple night.”

“I must say Neville, that’s the best ‘can I fuck you’ I’ve ever heard.”

“Tis more than that o light of my life. For I most truly love you and worship the ground you
walk upon, the pillow you lie upon and the feel of your thighs about mine.”

She humphed.

“Neville that’s enough. If you wanted my thighs about yours you should have asked six months
ago.”

Luna stood up.

Neville followed suit.

“Neville, I’m in love with someone else and we do it every night. I’m well taken care by him:
why don’t you try Susan, she’s available and probably a virgin to boot.”

“But fair Luna, since when have you had an ardent admirer, who is this Person I Must Best?”

“Best my hat Neville, I have a secret, a clandestine, a furtive lover from afar that steals upon
me on the wings of the night and transports me to the untrammelled regions of delight and ecstasy!”
she finished with a dramatic flourish.

“But fair Luna…”

“Stuff the fair Luna bit and tell Hermione to stop making that bloody potion!”

She marched off. Not even the Chat-Up Potion is a match for a young lady in love.

“Oh” said Neville, “ahh!” The Chat-Up Potion insisted on some form of closure.

He watched her walk away for a moment and then turned in a slow circle.

He spotted Susan Bones heading for the Stoned Garden, book under her arm, her long hair flowing
gently behind her.

He started after her.

*If Luna doesn’t want you, I’m sure Susan does. She’ll welcome you with open thighs.
Thighs?*

Neville shook his head. There seemed to be another voice in his mind.

It was possible Hermione had added a little too much Plummer Mushroom to the potion.

Susan Bones sat on one of the massive stone benches. Unusually for her, she wore muggle clothes,
a flouncy summer skirt covered with prints of flowers and a sleeveless lemon coloured teeshirt.

She looked up with her usual warm smile of welcome.

“Neville, lovely day.”

“The day pales into insignificance compared to your bountiful radiance.”

She glanced down at her chest.

“They’re not that big Neville.”

“The day pales into insignificance compared to your beautiful radiance and the wonder of your
orbs.”

She glanced down again. A trace of her nipples showed.

“Are you fixated on my breasts Neville?”

He tried again.

“The day pales into insignificance compared to your beautiful radiance and the wonder in your
eyes.”

“I’m certainly wondering, why don’t you sit down here and get it out.”

“My lady I must woo you before I get it out as you so eloquently request.”

“Neville!”

He sat next to her and looked down her top as he did so.

“Neville! Would you prefer if I just took it off?”

“Oh no dear lady, for it is my bounden task to disrobe you before I mount you.”

“On a pedestal?”

“No fair beauty, on my most Ardent Member.”

“Neville!”

She patted his hand.

“These are fine words but what do you mean?”

“Oh most potent of women, I have admired you from afar and turned and tossed at night, with your
portrait in my eyes.”

“You like me?”

“Dear Susan, you are the fairest virgin maid I have ever seen and I wish to sweep you from your
feet. Together we shall tread the gold path of love to a leafy bower where our intimacy will
quickly be consummated time and again.”

“So I don’t get to stay a virgin very long then.”

“Why nay eloquence of temerious beauty, for I shall swiftly court your divine mind and transport
your body to the heights of exquisite ecstasy where the ceiling we find shall be the stars.”

She ran the sentence by.

“So I’m going to have multiple orgasms the first time and you’re going to have to peel me off of
the ceiling.”

She patted his hand again and gently stroked his fingers. Her nipples pushed at the top, had
Neville but noticed. Even though he was staring into her face he hadn’t realised that her eyes had
softened.

“Dear Lady, mounted upon my Missile of Love how could you not be transported to the Edge of
Reason?”

“Missile of Love?” she giggled, “Neville Longbottom, really.”

“Together we shall go through life, hand in hand, my gland in your gland, love in love, woman to
man.”

“Does it involve a kiss?”

“Sweet Susan, Divine Lady, kisses shall I smother you in from head to foot, why,

your little toe shall be a Temple of My Adoration For You.”

She glanced down at her feet, bare in light weight sandals.

“Does it involve a kiss on the lips?”

“Dearest Bones, your lips shall be as a Cathedral I shall worship and dwell in them.”

“A kiss would be a good place to start.”

The words penetrated, almost.

“Divine Aphrodite of our Hogwarts, I shall kiss you forever on your sweet, succulent lips. My
tongue shall beat a path to your core and I…”

“Neville!”

She pulled his face to hers and kissed him firmly on the mouth, flicking her tongue ever so
briefly.

She pulled back, her eyes now wide.

“Neville, if you don’t make love to me, I’ll scream.”

The Plummer Mushroom and the spell weren’t concerned with words, only that some words were
spoken; within any words were the core of the spell, the ability to seduce almost anyone.

Taking his hand she led him a short way across the garden into a secluded, stone surrounded
bower, a large bush of roses in the middle.

“Dearest Susan, should I not lead the way to our place to plight our troth.”

“Today Neville. Now Neville. If I don’t get that Love Muscle in my most intimate corridor soon I
shall make a most angry utterance.”

“Love Muscle?”

“I don’t know, the words just came into my head, like ‘intimate corridor’. ‘Love Muscle’? I
wonder what it means.”

“Maybe it is some form of seafood delicacy dear Susan.”

She led him behind the screen formed by the bush.

“This should do, no one comes in here anyway and this’ll make it more private, your ‘leafy
bower’,” she giggled, a sound that sent a shiver through Neville separate to the Potion’s demands;
pulled her wand and cast a spell at the entrance to the small garden

“Dear Lady..”

She turned to him, her face starting to blush.

“Neville put up or shut up.”

“Put It Up or Shove It Up?”

She sighed.

Taking his hand she placed it over her eager breast.

“Neville, if you don’t wield your Protuberance soon, I’ll scream.”

His fingers tightened over her curve.

She gasped.

The Plummer Mushroom took over. Her flimsy skirt found itself a crumple about her waist. Her
other clothing shed itself as autumn leaves, mixed silent on the grass with Neville’s apparel. She
was skilfully explored from nose to toe. Equally confident she examined him from head to groin. She
got no further as the need took over for both of them and she settled back to draw him onto and
into her in one fluid, potion guided movement.

“Dear Lady!” he cried.

“My Warrior!” she replied.

On into the peace of the afternoon they rode

“Oh Neville!” she cried, “Neville! Surely you have the greatest Muscle of Love!”

“And you dear Susan have the finest Silken Walled Place!”

“Oh Neville!”

“Oh Susan!”

“Oh Neville!”

“Oh Susan!”

“Oh goodness me! I do believe I … mmngphhh!”

“Dearest, I do think that I shall …Oohhhhhhhhhh!”

The Chat-Up Potion triumphed as our two young lovers consummated their relationship in the most
substantial demonstration possible.

“Neville?”

“Susan?”

“Have you finished? I’m fucked out.”

“Susan!”

“Completely shagged senseless.”

“Susan!”

She patted his resting part.

“And I bet your cock could do with a rest.”

“Susan!”

She shook her head. The tide went out.

“whoa!” she looked at him and down at their naked bodies and strewn clothes, “what
happened?”

“We made love.” Neville told her.

“I know that you big silly,” she glanced at a patch on the grass, “I’m certainly not a virgin
anymore.”

She picked up her knickers and slid them up her legs. Neville watched, mesmerised.

She spotted his interest.

“I would have thought you’d have had enough of me.”

He shook his head, gathering his clothes.

“No, absolutely not.”

“Even without the Chat-Up Potion”

He paused, worried.

“How did you know?”

“Only thing it could be.”

She moved to him and placed one hand on his chest, taking his hand and placing it over her
breast.

“I hope this wasn’t a one off Neville.”

“No, no, can we see each other, I mean, umm, will you go out with me?”

“I already am,” she smiled warmly and then kissed him briefly.

“I need a shower. I’ll meet you outside Hufflepuff in an hour, I’ll smuggle you into my room. We
can carry on getting acquainted. If you want.”

Neville’s jaw dropped.

“Your room?”

“Of course, I’m not making love on the settee in the Common Room.”

“Course not.”

“By the way, what does ‘temerious’ mean?”

“No idea…..”

Here ends the second part of our steamy tale of young lovers, phew!