Gryffindor Sixth Year Follies

uvagirl

Rating: NC17
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 30/04/2005
Last Updated: 07/09/2005
Status: completed

Hermione has been full of "wonderful ideas" this year, and she's just had her best one yet. But, how does she get a reluctant Harry to participate? Warnings for sexual innuendo, very off-color jokes, and erotic action a hair's breadth from outright smut. From Chapter Two on, Harry & Ron will do standup comedy and the Gryffindor sixth year class will perform an old-fashioned burlesque/vaudeville sketch! Final chapter now uploaded - Aftermath of the show, including Draco/Snape bashing AND actual HHr NC17 sex! Please enjoy! ----------- ADDED BY FIC CO-ADMIN (gal-texter) in 2008: Please read this: http://talk.portkey.org/index.php?s=&showtopic=14633&view=findpost&p=237718

Chapters

1. All Aboard!

2. Who's the Seeker?

3. The Judge and the Dressmakers

4. Don't Get Mad - Get Even!

5. Make Like Snape?

6. Professor Flitwick’s Advice & History Lessons

7. A Marauder in the Mist

8. Fallout from the Show & Epilogue

1. All Aboard!

Gryffindor Sixth Year Follies

By uvagirl

A/N: This is my second story, and probably it will consist of four chapters. However, the first chapter almost can stand alone as a one-shot humor/romance not that different from my first story, Always Helpful Dobby. As with it, there will be a lot of very naughty talk and innuendo. But, as a bonus, some erotic action will be only a hair’s breadth away from being outright smut; hence the NC17 rating, just to be safe. Enjoy, and please review. Thanks.

By the way, I do not own Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, or anyone/thing else actually owned by JKR, etc.

Chapter 1: All Aboard!

"Another Hogwarts lost tradition was the ‘Sixth Year Winter Entertainment Week,’ which took place usually late in February. It was not described in so many words until the late nineteenth century, but its beginnings can be traced back at least a century earlier.

Its purpose was twofold. First, members of the sixth year class of each house performed diversionary entertainment for all of their fifth through seventh year schoolmates, in appreciation for the ongoing fellowship enjoyed with them. Also, and more significantly for fifth and seventh year students, the entertainment became a brief respite from serious study for their impending O. W. L. and N. E. W. T. examinations.

Usually, a different house’s sixth year class presented a stage play or a musical program on four successive evenings. Some years, a fifth night would feature encores of particularly acclaimed parts from those performances. On rare occasions, two or more houses would combine their members in large productions."

"What does this have to do with us?" asked an obviously bored Ginny Weasley to the person reading to her and two other girls in the Gryffindor sixth year girls’ dorm early on a Saturday morning.

"That’s straight out of Hogwarts, A History, and that’s what we’re going to do this year!" spoke Hermione Granger with an air of certainty. "Though, in your case, Ginny, you’ll be part of the audience only."

"That’s not fair!" Ginny exclaimed.

"Sorry, Ginny, but we’re sticking with tradition. Or, rather, we’re restoring an old tradition," answered Hermione. "Anyway, I’ve discussed the idea with the other house prefects and faculty heads, and with the Headmaster. We've a month to prepare, and it's not as if there's an overwhelming selection of recreations available here in the middle of winter. Lavender and Parvati have agreed to participate," she continued, nodding at the other two girls, "and I’ve mentioned the idea to Dean, Neville, and Seamus, and they seem to love it. Now, we have only Harry and Ron to get on board."

"Hermione, are you nuts?" chorused three voices.

"Assuredly, I am NOT," replied Hermione Granger to her three disbelieving friends.

"Never!" said Lavender Brown.

"Ever!" continued Parvati Patil.

"In a million years!" Ginny Weasley finished, and then she added, "and I’m pretty sure that Ron will join Harry in refusing to have anything to do with performing in public."

"Well," answered Hermione, "that’s why I need your help. The three of you should be able to persuade Ron. I will handle Harry by myself."

"From what I’ve heard, you’ve been ‘handling’ him, and he, you, quite a lot recently," said Ginny, with a wide smile.

"Though, judging from last night, our dear Hermione seems to be more the ‘handle-ee’ than the handler!" added Lavender

"Whatever do you mean?" Hermione asked, blushing.

"I believe that Ginny and Lavender are referring to certain feminine sounds that came from behind the curtains of a particular bed in the sixth year boys’ dorm, according to Dean and Seamus," said Parvati. "Of course, from our dorm, we could only SLIGHTLY hear them!" With a big grin, she added, "obviously, in your mutual eagerness ‘to handle’ each other, one or both of you forgot the minor preliminary detail of a silencing spell!"

"Oh, my!" was all that Hermione could say.

"Yes," said Ginny, "we heard a LOT of ‘OH, MY’ in your voice, usually with a certain religious reference following it! There were quite a number of other exclamations, ‘HARRY’ and ‘HARDER’ being prominent among them!"

"Add to that all of the unintelligible but immensely satisfied-sounding generic screaming," continued Lavender, "and I’m inclined to believe that you, Hermione Granger, most definitely was the one being handled!"

"And," Parvati added, with a dreamy expression, "it sure sounded as if you were being handled most expertly! He must be fantastic in the sack!"

"I’m going to kill Harry Potter!" said Hermione, as she rose from her seat on the bed, walked briskly out of the sixth year girls’ dorm, and headed for the common room.

None of her three schoolmates saw either the small smile on her face or the twinkle in her eye as she left.

* * *

"Hi, Harry," said a grinning Ron Weasley to his best friend, as Harry Potter entered the Gryffindor common room. "Where’ve you been?"

"Undoubtedly, he was in the library," said Dean Thomas, with an equally wide grin, before Harry could answer.

"Just as certainly, he was looking up silencing spells," added Seamus Finnigan, with an even bigger smile, "since clearly, he forgot how to cast one last night."

"What do you mean? I heard Hermione cast . . . oh, shit!" said Harry. "She’s going to kill me!"

"You must have had terrible dreams last night, Harry," said Neville Longbottom, with a serious expression, as he entered the common room from the dorm stairway. "You were making all kinds of strange and weird sounds."

Ron, Dean, and Seamus burst out in laughter, but they ceased it upon hearing a very loud female voice echoing down the dorm stairs.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER!" it boomed. "WHERE ARE YOU?"

"Bloody hell, mate," said Ron, "I don’t think that she wants to discuss homework with you! I’ve rarely heard her sound that mad before, even at Malfoy or me!"

"Double shit!" exclaimed Harry. As he headed back toward the portrait hole main exit, to his schoolmates, he added, "to modify the old blues song, it’s time for me ‘to meet myself at the bottom and put on my running shoes, because I’m coming out the window and don’t have nothing to lose!’ I feel an especially strong urge to run laps around the lake for a few hours!"

But, before Harry could make good his escape, Hermione stormed into the room and yelled at him, "STOP RIGHT THERE!"

Harry turned and faced her. "Uh, hi, Hermione. How are you on this fine Saturday morning? You look quite lovely."

"Don’t you dare try to sweet talk me, you . . . you . . . you IRRESPONSIBLE person, you!" Hermione exclaimed. "EVERY single Gryffindor must have heard us last night!"

"Well, to be fair," said Harry, in a reasonable tone, "actually, I believe that YOU made most of the noise."

"SHUT UP!" replied Hermione. "I don’t give a pixie fart who made most of the noise! I am SO embarrassed!"

"But, sweetie pie," said Harry, reaching out to hug Hermione.

"Don’t you dare to touch me, either," Hermione answered him. Then, her face became contorted, and she looked as if she was about to cry. In a very soft voice, she said, "can we go somewhere private to talk, Harry?"

"Of course, Hermione," Harry replied quickly. Noticing that all of his dorm mates were in the common room, he added, "we can go to my room." He turned to his friends and said, "you guys will give us a few minutes of privacy, won’t you?"

"Okay," said Hermione very softly. "I do have a very small favor to ask of you," she added, as she leaned into Harry, allowing him to wrap an arm around her.

"Anything for you, Hermione," Harry said, as they started to head up the stairs.

They stopped and waited for Lavender, Parvati, and Ginny to pass by on their way down. All three of them smiled warmly at Harry and giggled, but he barely had time to return their smiles before they made a beeline toward Ron. Neither he nor his male friends saw the wink that Hermione gave to the three girls.

Nor had Harry heard the responses to Hermione’s and his little melodrama by his male housemates.

"THAT – " began Dean Thomas.

"Is your basic ‘dictionary picture’ – " continued Seamus Finnigan.

"Of a certain sort of ‘whipped’ young wizard!" finished Ron Weasley.

Neville Longbottom’s eyes bulged out, and he asked, "are you guys saying that Harry and Hermione are into S & M?"

* * *

"YOU want ME to do WHAT?" exploded Harry. "HAH!"

He stood up from his bed, where he had been sitting next to Hermione, and he began to pace back and forth.

"Now, Harry," Hermione began.

"HAH, I say!" Harry interrupted, and continued, "never, ever, in million years will I do such a thing!"

"Now, Harry," Hermione tried again, "you WILL do this, for several reasons. First, every sixth year student in all four houses will be participating. So, it’s only right that you should do so as well."

"NEVER!" replied Harry.

"Second," Hermione continued, "it WILL be fun, and you WILL enjoy yourself, if only you make the slightest effort."

"Double NEVER!" Harry rejoined, "and don’t give me some smart-arsed remark as to how a double negative logically implies a positive!"

"Finally," Hermione went on, undeterred, "you will do this, because I want you to, and if you really care for my feelings, you will."

"Hermione, you know exactly how much I care for you, so you can pull back your lower lip before you step on it," Harry said, and he continued, "but, while USUALLY you know what you’re doing – "

"And, just WHAT does ‘USUALLY’ mean, Mr. Potter?" interrupted Hermione, her eyes flashing.

"Well," said Harry, "all too often, whenever you come up with some 'wonderful idea' that ‘all’ of us will enjoy, somehow, some way, I’M the person who ends up as the main object of stares or snickers for the next several days or weeks."

"I have no idea to what you refer," replied Hermione, trying very hard to keep a straight face. "Simply because a few immature sorts insist on taking things the wrong way is no reason for you – "

"Let’s start at the beginning of this school year," interrupted Harry. "You DO remember the S-P-E-W fundraising auction, do you not? I recall donating a necktie and a tee shirt upon your request, autographed at your request also. BUT, those two items garnered only the second and third highest bids."

"Now, Harry," Hermione said.

"The highest selling lot of the auction turned out to be something so hideously ugly that it should be illegal, a pair of boxers purportedly belonging to, or designed by, one ‘Harry James Potter,’ was it not, Miss Granger?" Harry asked. Without waiting for a response, he continued, "never mind that I did not donate, nor in fact do I wear, nor have I ever worn, nor would I be caught dead wearing, a pair of purple silk boxers decorated with magically moving orange jack-o-lanterns and golden snitches!"

"Now, Harry," Hermione said, giggling, "Fred and George Weasley assured me that they were a prototype of a new model approved by you and soon to be offered by their business establishment."

"And a more honest and truthful pair of wizards never drew breaths in our fair land, I suppose," said Harry. "Well, let’s forget it. After all, I’ve ALMOST forgotten being asked by innumerable young witches if I was wearing them at the moment when they spoke to me."

Hermione just smiled.

"Now, let’s move on and fry a considerably larger fish," said Harry. "Of course, I refer to your next ‘wonderful idea’ just a few weeks later in October, the notorious ‘Gryffindor Quidditch Team Magical Photo Poster’ fundraiser."

"That was NOT my fault," said Hermione, trying mightily to maintain a straight face. "I had no idea that our little pervert of a photographer, Colin Creevey, was going, er, ‘to enhance’ the contrast in a certain area of your lower uniform."

"He ENHANCED it, you say?" said Harry. "HAH! It would have been bad enough in a Muggle still photo, but he made it look like I had the business end of a bloody python wriggling around in my trousers."

"Harry, please," Hermione began.

"Almost every witch in the school, not to mention a few wizards of unconventional inclination, did nothing but to stare at my crotch for the next two weeks!" exclaimed Harry, "and, usually always, their looks were accompanied by sighs, moans, blushes, giggles, laughter, or some combination of thereof."

"Harry," Hermione tried to speak.

"Add to that a LOT of owl mail from adult witches proposing marriage and assorted less formal and decidedly unwholesome propositions from witches AND wizards. I even received howlers from some nutters calling themselves the ‘Association for the Suppression of Smut & Wizards Interested in Preserving Ethical Standards’ or some such, accusing ME of indecency!"

"Well, at least one good thing besides the money raised did come out of it," said Hermione. "YOU learned some appreciation for how we girls feel when boys stare glassy-eyed at our chests and bums."

"You wound me, Hermione," said Harry. "Certainly, I’ve NEVER done such a thing – "

"HAH, yourself!" Hermione interrupted.

"I will admit that occasionally I have glanced – only very briefly, mind you – at . . . wait a minute, don’t change the subject!" said Harry. "Returning to the poster, and regardless of who was responsible for my ‘enhancement,’ do you deny that YOU wrote the cute tagline next to my name on the roster list at the bottom?"

Hermione blushed and began to laugh.

"If I recall, it was ‘Harry Potter, Seeker: Catches everything he goes after. Is that a bludger bat in his pants, or is he just VERY friendly?’ or something similar, was it not?" asked Harry.

"Harry," Hermione started.

"Well, let’s put the poster aside, also," said Harry, "and let’s consider instead your November surprise, your perfect early Christmas gift for the witch who has everything, your piece-de-resistance, the ‘Harry Potter Talking Doll,’ which – "

"Harry, that was Fred’s and George’s doing also, at least mostly," said Hermione, cutting in.

"WHICH," continued Harry, ignoring Hermione, "caused me to suffer almost innumerable assaults upon my dignity, not to mention my body, at the hands of almost every student witch at Hogwarts! I have no doubt that Fred and George handled most of the clever voice work. If I recall, pinching Harry’s bum, rubbing his tummy, or tousling his hair elicited merely cute random responses, such as ‘give us a kiss,’ or ‘I love you,’ or ‘I like that,’ and similar inanities."

"I’m sure that it really caused you great pain," replied Hermione.

"And, I’m equally sure," said Harry, ignoring her sarcasm, "that in the presence of similar provocation, YOU would have demonstrated both a saintly restraint and the patience of a Job."

"Whatever do you mean, Harry?" asked Hermione.

"Well, if every young wizard at Hogwarts somehow had obtained a ‘Talking Hermione Granger Doll,’ AND had proceeded to take every opportunity to ask if he could rub your tummy or pinch your bum, or worse, if he didn't bother to ask, then – "

"But, there isn’t any such doll, and even if it existed, no male in this school – present company excluded – would have the nerve to do so!" Hermione said, with a superior smile.

"You mean that there isn’t one YET," replied Harry, with a grin.

"Keep dreaming, Mr. Potter!" said Hermione. "Neither Fred nor George nor both of them together have the stones to make one!"

"You mean that they haven’t the stones to spare, should they incur your wrath," said Harry, with a broad smile. "On the other hand, I . . . hold it, we’re getting off the subject again!"

"Which is what, exactly?" Hermione asked.

"However," Harry went on, "the real icing on the cake was not the standard model doll. Rather, it was the special, limited edition, individually serial-numbered, ‘mature-rated’ version, allegedly available only ‘under the counter’ at the Weasley Brothers’ joke shop and den of iniquity."

"Harry, I did NOT know that they were planning – " Hermione started.

"I refer to the ‘Anatomically Correct’ – no, let’s be totally accurate – the ‘Anatomically Grossly Exaggerated AND Functional Harry Potter Talking Doll,’ which somehow – "

"Now, Harry," Hermione began.

"Which somehow managed to be obtained by a seemingly unlimited number of Hogwarts student witches, notwithstanding its purported limited production and age-restricted status," Harry finished.

"Harry, stop it!" Hermione finally blurted. Then, she laughed, and added, "you must admit that we did raise a huge amount of galleons in royalties for the benefit of magical orphans."

"AND," Harry continued, ignoring Hermione’s outburst, "I have no doubt that the fine touches of Fred and George were responsible for – how shall I put this – the less innocent verbal responses in this special edition of the doll, which could have been called ‘Potty-mouth Harry,’ or something similar."

"Harry, I had no idea," Hermione began yet again, but she was interrupted yet again.

"I honestly don’t believe that you had anything to do with crudities such as ‘let’s shag,’ or ‘I’m as randy as a three-balled kneazle,’ or ‘let's work some REAL magic with my eleven-inch wand.’ BUT, I do wonder just who was responsible for the more complex PHYSICAL charms, such as what occurred when one rubbed the inside of ‘Little Harry’s’ thigh in a certain way," Harry said, and then he paused to catch his breath.

"Harry," Hermione said, but then she blushed and burst into giggles.

"What happened, of course," Harry started up again, "is that a certain already grossly exaggerated part of the doll’s anatomy became even MORE exaggerated, did it not? You, more than any other witch, should know, since I discovered that the very first ‘special’ doll, with serial number 0001, no less, just happened to have been presented to one 'Hermione Granger,' supposedly for her 'invaluable assistance' in its production!"

"I . . . it . . . they . . . " Hermione stumbled, blushing.

"So," said Harry, "The plaintiff rests his case in the matter of Harry Potter versus the ‘wonderful ideas’ of Hermione Granger."

"Well, then," said Hermione, "are you or are you not going to participate, Harry?"

"What do you intend to do about it, if I don’t?" asked Harry.

"Nothing," replied Hermione.

"Nothing?" asked Harry, immediately suspicious.

"Nothing," responded Hermione, "as in ‘no thing’ or ‘not anything’ at all."

"Okay," said Harry, and with a cheerful look on his face, he sat back down next to Hermione, and as he started to embrace her, he continued, "now that that’s out of the way, and since we ARE alone – "

"Just WHAT do think you’re doing, Mr. Potter?" Hermione asked, as she pulled away.

"But, I thought," Harry began.

"No, you didn’t think," Hermione interrupted, and added, "what do you not understand about the word ‘nothing,’ Mr. Potter?"

"Do you mean," Harry began again, but Hermione cut in.

"I intend to do nothing TO you . . . or WITH you!"

"B-b-but," Harry began, "you mean no hugs?"

Hermione said nothing.

"No kisses?" Harry said, his face becoming alarmed.

Hermione only smiled.

"N-n-no," Harry stumbled, his face now registering outright shock, "S-E-X?"

"I do believe that finally you’ve managed to grasp the obvious, Harry," Hermione said, folding her arms across her chest and smiling.

"But . . . but . . . but . . . " Harry tried to talk.

"There are no ifs, ands, OR buts about it," Hermione said, continuing to smile.

"But, YOU like it as much as I do!" Harry blurted.

"A finer example of typical male ignorance would be harder to find," Hermione said, and she continued. "I hope I’m not betraying my gender when I say that with the right man, who knows or eventually figures out what he’s doing, we women are capable of far greater enjoyment of sex than is any male."

"You . . . I . . . " Harry continued to falter verbally.

"Dear, sweet, and confused Harry," Hermione said, raising her hand to caress his cheek briefly, "you certainly have no need to feel inadequate in any way whatsoever. Last night was extraordinarily enjoyable for me, and you are my ‘right man’ without any doubt. But, this is a matter of principle. As long as you remain bullheaded about our entertainment show, I’ll just have to suffer with a less than perfect substitute."

"SUBSTITUTE!" Harry exclaimed, finding his voice. "You wouldn’t dare! No other bloke here would dare to – "

"Who said anything about another MAN?" Hermione replied. "I’ll just call Dobby from the kitchen and – "

"DOBBY?" Harry yelled. "Now, that’s just plain disgusting! Though, come to think of it, he does have a rather long nose."

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Mr. Potter!" Hermione yelled back. "You didn’t let me finish! I was about to add that I’d have Dobby see what the kitchen stores might hold in the way of things of an appropriately long, thick, and hard nature."

Harry’s mouth opened, and moved slightly, but no sound emerged. Hermione continued speaking.

"Let’s see, a pepperoni might be a little bit too hard, and Italian and other sausages would be messy. I wonder if hothouse cucumbers are available now . . . or even zucchini . . . "

Harry’s expression continued to mimic that of the proverbial fish out of water, and Hermione went on.

"What? Nothing to say, Mr. Potter?"

"If you do this," Harry said, with a serious expression that changed suddenly into a broad grin, "will you let me watch?"

"WHAT?" Hermione screeched, pulling her arm back in preparation for delivery of a strong slap. "How DARE you ask such a vile question!"

Harry laughed, and he embraced Hermione in a bear hug before she could smack his face.

"Let go of me!" Hermione yelled.

"No, not until you calm down," said Harry, as he continued to hold her firmly. Then, he laughed and added, "by the way, just why would it be vile for me to observe you doing something as commonplace and normal as making love to a vegetable garden?"

Hermione continued to struggle. She looked up at Harry’s smiling face and his twinkling eyes. Finally, she relaxed and began to laugh also.

"Harry," Hermione said.

"You don’t have to say anything, Hermione," Harry cut in, as he kissed her forehead and released her. "I believe that both of us realize that this verbal boxing match has gone on far too long."

"I’m sorry, Harry," Hermione said.

"No, I’M the one who’s really sorry," said Harry. "You were only doing what makes you so adorable and wonderful, while I was rather stupidly engaging in an ‘Ron arguing with Hermione’ impression."

"So," Hermione ventured, "about the show? If you really don’t want – "

"Of course, I’ll do it, and so will Ron," said Harry. "And, I apologize also for last night’s lack of a proper silencing spell . . . that is, I apologize if you really think that I should."

‘Bloody hell! He KNOWS!’ thought Hermione, as she returned his broad grin with a wan smile, blushed, and lowered her eyes. ‘He knows that I botched the spell on purpose!’

Harry reached down, raised her chin, and looked into her eyes. "Hermione, I don’t yet know everything about love, but I do know that when one is in love, he cares more for his lover’s happiness than for his own."

"Harry, I’m sorry that I – "

"Shhhh!" said Harry, placing a finger on her lips. "Do me one favor, though."

"Of course, Harry!" said Hermione.

"In the future, just remember that for ANYTHING, all you have to do is to ask me. Okay?" said Harry, and he gave her a wink.

"Okay, Harry," said Hermione. ‘Not only does he know, but also he knows that I know that he knows!’ she added to herself, ‘but he’s far too nice a guy to beat me over the head with it. No wonder I love him so! Well, such wonderful character and behavior should not go without reward!’

"Maybe we should head back to the common room, Hermione," said Harry, as he rose from the bed.

"What’s the hurry?" said Hermione, as she grabbed his hand and pulled him around to face her. With her other hand, she waved her wand, quickly performing both door-locking and silencing spells. "See, Harry, I DO know how to do a proper silencing spell!" she added, with a mischievous grin.

‘Holy shit!’ thought Harry, ‘she knows that I know! She – what the hell – she’s opening my belt . . . my fly . . . Oh My God!’

For several minutes, Harry did not say anything intelligible, while Hermione – pardon the expression – was unable to say anything at all!

Eventually, after Harry had been quite thoroughly "rewarded," Hermione stood up and walked over to the door.

"You know, Harry," said Hermione, as she unlocked the door, "both of us have a lot of things for which to be grateful."

"We’ve got each other," said Harry, as he adjusted his clothing and joined her. "Isn’t that more than enough?"

"No, I mean it," said Hermione, with a wink. "First, it was a rather heated discussion last month about the Harry Doll that finally forced us both to acknowledge our mutual feelings and to act upon them in a most heated manner."

"Uh, yes, you’re right about that," Harry admitted.

"Second, I’M very grateful that the Harry Doll’s anatomy isn’t THAT exaggerated."

Harry blushed and began to stammer something, but Hermione continued.

"AND finally, I bet that YOU’RE really grateful that back in fourth year, I reduced the size of my front teeth!"

* * *

Harry and Hermione entered the common room, only to find it empty, and they realized that it was time for lunch. So, they exited and headed to the Great Hall. Upon entering it and approaching the Gryffindor table, they observed a group of their housemates.

Dean and Seamus were laughing so hard that they hardly were able to sit upright. Lavender and Parvati were giggling, as was Ginny, although with a very red face. Neville Longbottom was looking confused.

The object of their assorted mirth and confusion was Ron, and he was sitting dead still, with arms crossed, and with his facial coloration not terribly dissimilar from that of his hair.

Luna Lovegood had just left the Ravenclaw table and was sitting down next to Ron and talking to him in a soothing voice.

"What kept you two?" Ron asked.

"What’s wrong, Ron?" Luna and Hermione asked simultaneously.

Both the guffaws of Dean and Seamus and the giggles of Lavender and Parvati increased in volume. Ginny’s facial coloration deepened, and Neville looked even more confused.

"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed. "This is embarrassing!"

"Come on, Ron, you know that you can tell us anything," said Hermione, with an expression of genuine concern.

"Yes, Ron, honey," added Luna. "What happened?"

"You’ve got to promise not to laugh," said Ron.

"Of course," said Luna, and Hermione nodded her head in agreement.

"Well, just after you left the room with Harry, that pair of . . . of scarlet witches," said Ron, nodding in the direction of Lavender and Parvati, "flounced into the room and sat down on the couch on either side of me. Then, they were joined by my very own sister, who sat on the floor by my feet!"

Hermione and Luna looked at each other, and then both of then looked at Harry. All three of them had puzzled expressions not unlike that of Neville’s.

"Anyway," continued Ron, "they started whispering to me about some special favor they wanted from me, while they were rubbing my arms with their hands and their, er, certain other body parts, and . . . and . . . "

Harry began to understand, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from joining in the laughter of Dean and Seamus.

"Go on," said Luna, and Hermione nodded her head again in agreement.

"I . . . I . . . had a certain physical reaction, and I didn’t realize until it was too late that I was wearing my tight sweat pants," Ron finished.

Both the giggles and laughter increased.

Luna glared at Lavender and Parvati, whose giggles immediately became more subdued.

Hermione glanced at Dean and Seamus, pulled out her wand, and spoke. "If some members of the baser element at this table can’t behave themselves and act in a civilized manner, then perhaps I can help them . . . "

Dean and Seamus stopped laughing, gulped, and their eyes got quite large. Each of them reached for a glass of pumpkin juice.

"Now, Ronald," Luna said, "what happened to you is nothing to be ashamed of. You’re a perfectly normal and healthy teenager, and such things occur quite naturally."

"Luna’s correct, Ron," added Hermione, "you re too good a person to allow yourself to get upset over such a little thing."

There was a brief but pregnant silence.

Dean and Seamus, mouths unfortunately filled with juice, proceeded involuntarily to spray each other as they started to choke.

"Certainly, I wouldn’t call it ‘little’ at all," purred Lavender. "But, I don't have Hermione's personal perspective," she added, giving Harry an appraising look not unlike that of a hungry Rottweiler contemplating the taste of a particularly juicy bone.

"Indeed," added Parvati. "I won’t say that I've never seen more impressive ones, but very few!"

Hermione, realizing her unintended double entendre, blushed deeply, but Harry, still biting his tongue to keep from laughing, determined to help out his best male friend. He had to divert everyone’s attention from Ron’s ‘little’ or ‘not so little’ problem.

"So, Ron," Harry said, "Hermione and I have discussed the matter of the Gryffindor show, and I have decided that both you and I really should be in it."

Ron, with no small amount of relief, answered, "are you sure, Harry?"

"Definitely, mate," said Harry. Turning to Hermione and the others, he continued, "so, what are we going to do?"

As everyone ate lunch, they discussed the virtues and vices of various dramatic plays and musicals for a while, and Harry was surprised to learn that there was quite a wealth of knowledge and experience among his sixth year classmates.

Eventually, however, the subject returned to the prolonged private discussion of Harry and Hermione.

"So, Harry," asked Ron, "what did take you so long and why did you change your mind? Knowing of your previous experiences in being on the receiving end of some of Hermione’s brilliant ideas, I’m assuming that you wanted nothing to do with the show."

Hermione glared at Ron, and Harry laughed inwardly. ‘Great,’ he thought, ‘things are back to normal!’

"Well," said Harry, "to make a long story short, ‘she made me an offer I couldn’t refuse,’ to use the famous book and movie line."

"Yes," said Hermione, "Harry and I ‘reasoned together,’ to borrow another line from The Godfather, and I was able to prove to him just how enjoyable his participation in the show could be."

With a twinkle in her eyes, Hermione turned and smiled at Harry. Meanwhile, out of everyone’s view under the table, she placed a hand on Harry’s thigh and started to move her fingers along its inside. Harry gulped, and started to talk, but Hermione continued.

"I was able to demonstrate to Harry just what he would miss out on, if he refused to be in the show, didn’t I, sweetie?" Hermione said, staring into Harry’s eyes. "As to what kept us so long, the explanation is simple. Near the end of our discussion, something really big came up, and I simply had to take care of it!"

‘So, you want to play games, do you,’ Harry thought, relieved that he had resisting taking a drink of juice. "Yes, indeed, Ron," said Harry. "I do believe that our Hermione might consider reading Law after she graduates from Hogwarts. She definitely has the makings a first class barrister. I argued my case as if I was making a legal pleading in a courtroom. I thought that I was pretty convincing."

Hermione looked at Harry with a puzzled expression. Clearly, she wondered just where this was heading. She picked up a glass of pumpkin juice and took a sip, as Harry continued

"But, she brushed aside my reasoning with ease," Harry continued, and with an evil gleam in his eyes for Hermione’s benefit, he concluded, "and her oral closing argument simply was magnificent!"

Only with the greatest self-control was Hermione able to keep from spraying the table, but she couldn’t help but to begin to choke. Harry patted her on the back.

"There, there, Hermione," he said soothingly. "What’s the matter? Did something go down the wrong way? How are you feeling? Would you like to go back to your dorm and lie down? I have something very important I need to finish discussing with you."

They rose and left the table, heading back to Gryffindor Tower.

"Well," said Lavender, "it appears that while Hermione may have prevailed so far, our lovebirds haven’t quite finished their argument."

"Yes," added Parvati, "and I suspect that Harry is determined to end it by coming out on top!"

"I’m not so sure about that," said Ginny. "Hermione always gets the best of him, and my bet is that Harry just wants to get in a few licks!"

As Harry looked back at the table, he saw Luna, Ron, and the three Gryffindor girls laughing very loudly. Dean and Seamus literally were rolling on the floor, and poor Neville still was looking very confused.

To be continued

A/N: Stay tuned for Chapter Two, which will fast-forward to the second half of the Gryffindor Show, wherein Harry and Ron appear on stage and perform a magical version of a very famous comedy sketch.

2. Who's the Seeker?

A/N: It may be disappointing to some that I’m fast-forwarding through the overall story, but since this is intended to be predominantly a humor fiction, it's time for the funny part of the show. Possibly in the future, should I have the time and the inclination, I may write an in-between "Chapter One-and-a-Half." Anyway, as promised, here's the comedy team of Ron and Harry.

Thanks for the reviews of Chapter One, and fenriswolf & MissLexi guessed correctly.

Chapter 2: Who’s the Seeker?

The mid-winter days flew by for the sixth year students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, as all of them were involved quite seriously in preparing for the fast-approaching Entertainment Week.

Their fifth and seventh year classmates were keenly anticipating it also, as it would mark an entire week of blessed relief each evening from their intensive preparation for impending O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. examinations.

After consulting with prefects from the other houses, Hermione Granger actually had been at a loss for what Gryffindor should do. Random lots had been drawn to determine the order of performances, with the result that Hufflepuff, whose members had chosen do a straight, non-magical performance of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, would go first.

Privately, Hermione had set her sights initially on Gryffindor doing a magical version of The Mikado. However, the organizers for Ravenclaw House, performing second, had indicated that they intended to do a wizarding version of another perennial Gilbert and Sullivan operetta favorite, The Pirates of Penzance.

Slytherin had drawn the third spot, but its members were being very closed-mouth about what they intended to do. Both Harry and Ron were certain that the Slytherin "entertainment" would consist of some dressed-up collection of insults to Gryffindor House, Muggle-born wizards and witches, and Harry Potter, though not necessarily in that order.

This was all but confirmed by the behavior of Draco Malfoy and Professor Snape during the last two weeks before the shows. Both of them affected an unnatural politeness toward all Gryffindors, particularly so to Harry and Hermione. More significantly, both would break into smiles, and even into the occasional evil-sounding cackle, when they thought no Gryffindor was watching or listening.

After much "discussion" with her classmates, using that word to cover much more than just reasoned discourse, Hermione was at her wits' end. It had taken several long shouting matches just to decide what Gryffindor House's entertainment contribution would be. Almost every classical stage drama, popular musical, and operetta was considered, but after Harry and Ron dug in their heels and refused to do anything that involved their having to sing, the field of choices was narrowed somewhat.

They were rescued by a five-word serendipitous question by Neville Longbottom, who so far had contributed little to their discussions.

"How about a variety show?" he asked.

Everyone simply stared at Neville.

"I was talking to Colin and Dennis Creevey, and they mentioned some Muggle shows on something called 'VT' that they had seen and that were really funny," said Neville. "They said the shows were copies of older ones originally done years ago. Their favorite one had some fat comedian who they called 'Penny Bill,' or something like that."

"BENNY HILL!" exclaimed Dean and Seamus simultaneously.

"Neville, you're a genius!" Dean added.

"Too right!" agreed Seamus.

"I don't know," said Hermione, with a disapproving look. "He was a bit blue and low-brow in his humor, wasn't he?"

"And we aren't?" asked Dean.

"And he was sexist, too," Hermione continued. "I was embarrassed the first time I saw a rerun of one his shows with topless women!"

This last remark suddenly caused Harry, Ron, Lavender, and Parvati to become very interested.

"T-t-topless?" asked Ron, blushing, as he looked at the other two girls, who were giggling.

"Topless!" said Harry, with a smile. "Well, certainly, I'M willing to shed my shirt in the interests of art . . . "

"NO!" Hermione exclaimed. "No way will there be ANY nudity! We'd get into trouble!"

"Spoilsport!" muttered Seamus.

Neville was both confused again and a little shocked, and he said nothing. But, he did keep sneaking glances at the upper front torsos of the three girls.

After much further discussion, finally the matter was settled. Gryffindor House would present a two-part variety show.

The first part would be musical, and it would consist of traditional and original songs presented in a variety of ways, including solos, duets, trios, etc.

The second part would be a comedy show, mostly by Harry and Ron, but with the assistance of everyone else for at least one larger skit.

The remaining couple of weeks were consumed in a flurry of activity. In addition to rehearsals, costumes, makeup, scenery, and props had to be designed and constructed.

Professors McGonagall and Flitwick graciously agreed to provide the actual physical facilities, by means of very complex transfigurations and charms on the Great Hall, thus saving the students a lot of extra work. It would be converted it into a theater just large enough for the three oldest classes of students, plus the faculty. Still, it was necessary to modify or reinvent traditional techniques of stagecraft as simple as lighting and sound, so as to be able to have spotlighting or to play recorded music without electricity.

But, everything did seem to get done by the last weekend.

* * *

Entertainment Week began quite well. The only real change that had occurred in the original format was that both of the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw productions became joint ventures of both houses. This was due largely to the magnitudes of the cast requirements for Romeo and Juliet and The Pirates of Penzance.

Hermione huffed a bit at this change in tradition, permitting two houses to perform on two successive evenings, but as she had predicted that both of them would have problems with their choices, secretly she was pleased at being proven correct.

The Slytherin entertainment turned out to be Mixed Blood Mischief, an allegedly original play, written by Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson. In reality, it was a thinly disguised and rather poorly rewritten version of the famous Georges Feydeau bedroom farce, Hotel Paradiso.

It did have a few funny moments, such as Draco Malfoy's makeup. Playing the lead, "Perry Hottrousers," he was done up with a black fright wig and a prominent scar on his forehead. His harridan of a wife, on whom he was trying to cheat with the next door neighbor, was played by Millicent Bulstrode, who was outfitted with a huge brown rat's nest of a wig and very large buckteeth.

After his initial anger, Harry surprisingly found himself being pleasantly amused by the play, but Hermione was hopping mad. Harry wasn't sure whether this was due primarily to Millicent's very unflattering impression of her, or to the fact that the Slytherins were so blatantly misrepresenting as their own the work of another, without giving proper credit.

After the play and as they were leaving the Great Hall, she pulled Harry and Ron aside for a private conversation.

"Concerning those nasty jokes that we decided should be cut," Hermione said, "go ahead and do them!"

"The ones that YOU decided to cut, you mean?" said Harry.

"You mean the ones about the Slytherin engaged couple and the newlyweds?" asked Ron, with no small amount of excitement in his voice.

"Yes, definitely," answered Hermione, with a smile

"AND the 'potato' joke?" said Harry, grinning widely.

"Yes, especially that one!" replied Hermione, with an equally broad smile. She blushed deeply, and added, "if you'll forgive me for a rather crude metaphor, stick it in 'em, and break it off!"

Harry and Ron stared at her, with mouths agape, but then they grinned.

"Yes, ma'am," they said.

* * *

The next evening . . .

Announcer (Seamus Finnigan): We will close the musical portion of tonight's entertainment with a solo performance by Neville Longbottom. With apologies to W. S. Gilbert and Arthur Sullivan, here is our Hogwarts magical version of the famous "Mikado" song, sometimes known as "My Object All Sublime." Hermione Granger and Harry Potter wrote this version, and it is dedicated to every student's favorite member of the Hogwarts staff, Mr. Argus Filch.

(Curtain rises)

Neville: Hello, everyone. Here's "The Caretaker Song." (He begins to sing in a surprisingly strong bass)

*

A kindlier caretaker ne’er

Served at Hogwarts, our school.

To no one I yield

In desire to wield

The most inane, daft rule.

*

It is my most humane intent

And my most great desire

To catch each young witch

With nary a stitch

And set her bum afire!

*

Chorus:

My object true and sure,

I shall attempt to cure

Every youthful thought impure,

All youthful thoughts impure;

And punish each young fool,

Who violates a rule

Of this, our very wondrous school,

Our very wondrous school!

*

Each and every smart aleck wizard,

Doing magic in the halls,

Will be sent without peep

To a dungeon most deep

And strung up by his balls!

*

The hormone-driven couple who think

That they’ve given me the slip,

Shall, after they’re caught,

To my office be brought,

And given a taste of my whip!

*

If ever I catch a redheaded scamp

Igniting bombs of dung,

The wall where he’s found

With shackles he’s bound

‘Til he’s well and truly sung!

*

Whoever gives to me back talk,

Or dares abuse my cat,

Be he brunette or blond,

I’ll confiscate his wand,

And shampoo him with a bludger bat!

*

Chorus:

My object true and sure,

I shall attempt to cure

Every youthful thought impure,

All youthful thoughts impure;

And punish each young fool,

Who violates a rule

Of this, our very wondrous school,

Our very wondrous school!

*

(Curtain)

* * *

Announcer (Seamus Finnigan): Witches and wizards, we hope you’ve enjoyed the musical portion of this evening’s entertainment. We trust that you’re ready for the second part, some old-fashioned laughs. So, without further ado, it’s time for "The Gryffindor Comedy Show," presented by the sixth year class and featuring Ron Weasley and Harry Potter!

(Cheers from audience)

They’re going to kick things off with a real treat for any who never have heard the original, our rewritten magical variation of one of the funniest and most famous comedy sketches in history, done originally by the team of Abbott and Costello. Undoubtedly, many in the audience from Muggle backgrounds have heard or seen it before. However, we believe that you will still enjoy our improved Quidditch version of it.

(Curtain rises)

Ron: Hey, Harry!

Harry: Hi, Ron! Over with your detention finally? What was it this time?

Ron: What else but the usual? I was scrubbing cauldrons – by hand, of course – for that greasy wanker!

Harry: Well, it could’ve been worse.

Ron: How so?

Harry: It could’ve been ME with the detention!

Ron: Thanks a lot, mate. I’m sorry I missed Quidditch practice today. I heard that you’ve finished with the Gryffindor tryouts.

Harry: Yes, and I’m sure that we’re going to have another successful run at the Cup this year!

Ron: Is it true that you’ve formed an entire second team, a reserve squad of younger players?

Harry: Indeed, we have. Now, we’ll be able both to train up our future replacements and to play completely in-house scrimmages. We’ve even ranked the reserve pair of beaters and the three chasers, so that we can automatically substitute for injured regulars with a minimum of trouble.

Ron: Well, can you tell me the members of the reserve team, Harry?

Harry: It’s funny you should ask, Ron, but some of the younger Gryffindors seem to have very unusual names.

Ron: You don’t say.

Harry: I do. For example, consider our reserve seeker and the chaser and beater first reserves.

Ron: And, they are?

Harry: Who’s the seeker, What’s the chaser, and I Don’t Know is the beater.

Ron: That’s what I’m asking you.

Harry: That’s what I’m telling you.

Ron: Are you the team’s Captain?

Harry: You know I am.

Ron: Do you know these reserve players’ names?

Harry: Certainly.

Ron: Well, then, who’s the seeker?

Harry: Yes.

Ron: I mean, the boy’s name.

Harry: That’s it.

Ron: That’s who?

Harry: Yes.

Ron: Well, go ahead and tell me.

Harry: Who

Ron: The seeker!

Harry: Who.

Ron: The guy going after the snitch!

Harry: Who.

Ron: (Pauses and takes a deep breath) Have we or have we not got a reserve seeker?

Harry: Who is the seeker!

Ron: What are you asking ME for? I’m asking YOU who’s the seeker!

Harry: That’s the fellow’s name.

Ron: That’s whose name?

Harry: Yes.

Ron: Please, tell me, who’s the seeker?

Harry: That’s right.

Ron: Look, Harry, I want to know. What’s the name of the boy playing seeker?

Harry: Oh, no! What’s the name of the CHASER.

Ron: I’m not asking who’s the chaser.

Harry: Who’s the seeker!

Ron: I don’t know.

Harry: Oh, he’s the BEATER. We weren’t talking about him yet.

Ron: Whoa, stop right there! How the devil did we get to the beater?

Harry: You mentioned his name.

Ron: I did not!

Harry: Yes, you did.

Ron: If I mentioned the beater’s name, then who did I say was the beater?

Harry: No, Who’s playing seeker!

Ron: I’m not asking you who’s the seeker.

Harry: Who is the seeker!

Ron: I’m asking you what’s the name of the beater?

Harry: What’s the name of the chaser.

Ron: Who’s the chaser?

Harry: Who’s the seeker!

Ron: I don’t know!

Harry: He’s the beater!

Ron: There we go again, back to the friggin’ beater!

Harry: I can’t change their names.

Ron: (Pauses and takes another deep breath) Let me start over. Do we have a reserve seeker?

Harry: Absolutely!

Ron: Well, suppose the reserve seeker has to substitute for you, and his girlfriend wants to give his broomstick a ‘good luck’ kiss before the match. She would kiss whose stick?

Harry: Yes, of course.

Ron: Crap! Look here, suppose the reserve seeker makes a spectacular catch of the golden snitch, winning the match for Gryffindor, and his girlfriend wants to reward him with a late-night snog session. What’s the name of the guy she’ll meet in the Astronomy Tower?

Harry: No, no. What’s the name of the chaser.

Ron: But, I’m not asking you who’s the chaser.

Harry: Who’s the seeker!

Ron: I don’t know.

Harry & Ron: (Simultaneously) He’s the beater!

Harry: See, you know all these players as well as I do.

Ron: I don’t have a bloody clue of what the hell I’m talking about! Look, do we have a SECOND reserve beater?

Harry: Of course, we do! What kind of Quidditch team would it be without TWO beaters?

Ron: Well, unlikely as it may be, can you tell me the name of the second beater?

Harry: Why.

Ron: Why?

Harry: Yes.

Ron: Well, then, tell me!

Harry: Why.

Ron: Because I want to know!

Harry: Well, I told you!

Ron: Double crap! I suppose there are second and third reserve chasers?

Harry: Certainly, there are. In fact, both of them are extremely attractive and athletic third year girls, who really seem to be able to handle a broomstick!

Ron: Third year girls?

Harry: Yeah. I even let each of them have a go on mine, and they did pretty well. Of course, neither is as talented as is your sister, Ginny. You should have seen her move with my powerful stick between her legs! I could hardly believe how good she was!

Ron: Harry, I really did not need to hear that!

Harry: Yeah, it’s a shame that I can’t get Hermione nearly as excited about it. Whenever I get her on my stick, all she does is hold on for dear life and make me do all the work! She won’t move until it’s over, and we’ve come back down!

Ron: I really did not need to hear that, either! I don’t suppose you’d tell me the names of the lovely young second and third chasers.

Harry: Of course, I would.

Ron: Well, the name of the second reserve chaser is?

Harry: Today.

Ron: Today?

Harry: You got it.

Ron: And the third reserve’s name is?

Harry: Tomorrow.

Ron: Tomorrow?

Harry: Yep.

Ron: Why did I expect something like this? Look, here, Potter, I don’t want their effing names today or tomorrow; I want ‘em NOW!

Harry: I just told you!

Ron: I’m asking you one last time. What’s the name of the second chaser, and if you DARE to say ‘who’s the seeker,’ then you know what I’m going to do?"

Harry: I can’t imagine.

Ron: I’ll find a beater somewhere, borrow his bludger bat, and add some new scars to your freakin’ head!

Harry: Ron, mate . . . what can I say?

Ron: Just forget it, Harry. It really isn’t worth the aggravation, and to be honest, I don’t give a shit!

Harry: What did you just say?

Ron: I DON’T GIVE A SHIT!

Harry: Oh! He’s the reserve KEEPER!

Ron: I’ll kill you, Potter!

(Curtain)

* * *

"Bloody hell, Harry," said Ron, "will you listen to that applause!"

"I guess they liked it, mate," said Harry.

"Harry! Ron! Both of you were brilliant," squealed an excited Hermione Granger. "But, you've got to hurry up and get ready for the next skit."

"Where is my robe?" said Harry.

"Come along, Ron," said Hermione, "and I'll help you to get into your dress."

To be continued

A/N: "The Caretaker Song" is my own quickly composed doggerel. I know it doesn't scan perfectly, but G & S fans should please refrain from excessive flaming.

For anyone interested, the Who's the Seeker? sketch is based on two different versions of the original Who's on First? by Abbott & Costello. One is available in print, in Laughing Matters, A Celebration of American Humor, edited by Gene Shalit. The other is an actual performance by A & C, in their film, The Naughty Nineties, available on VHS tape for certain (not sure about DVD), and two or three times a year, it's shown on TV, usually the Turner Classic Movies cable channel. Undoubtedly, there are numerous transcribed versions of the sketch floating around the web, as well.

Stay tuned for Chapter Three, wherein the entire Gryffindor sixth year class performs a magical version of Pigmeat Markham's Here Comes the Judge. See Judge Potter dispense justice to "ladies of the evening" such as Miss Hormone Grinder and Miss Ronalda Shagnasty.

3. The Judge and the Dressmakers

A/N: Thanks again to all who have read/enjoyed/reviewed the first two chapters. The Gryffindor Comedy show continues with a sketch by the entire sixth year class. Though this chapter does not contain really "hard" NC17 material, the usual warnings for extreme vulgarity, innuendo, dirty jokes, etc. still apply. Also, note that Ron Weasley will appear in a dress and play a female character.

Special additional note: One bit of anatomical innuendo that appeared in my first story, Always Helpful Dobby, actually was borrowed from this, which was written earlier (along with most of chapters two and four). It is central to a small plot line that will be resolved in Chapter Four.

Chapter 3: The Judge and the Dressmakers

* * *

Cast:

Announcer & Drummer: Seamus Finnigan

Bailiff: Neville Longbottom

Judge: Harry Potter

Prosecutor: Dean Thomas

Defendant Miss Pinkie Violet Bunz: Lavender Brown

Defendant Miss Penissa Plunger: Parvati Patil

Defendant Miss Hormone Grinder: Hermione Granger

Defendant Miss Ronalda Shagnasty: Ron Weasley

* * *

Announcer: Witches, wizards, and anyone else who’s interested, we take you now into legal territory, and we invite you to attend a session of Wizarding Night Court. This short skit is based upon the old style burlesque and vaudeville routines of the great American comedian, Pigmeat Markham. So, without further ado, ‘Here Comes the Judge!’

(Curtain rises)

Bailiff: Hear Ye! Hear Ye! All rise! All rise! Wizarding Night Court is now in session, with the Honorable Judge Pigmeat Potter presiding.

Judge: Ahhhhh! The Judge is as high as a mountain troll’s eye!

Prosecutor: Good evening, Your Honor.

Judge: Good evening, you’re ornery. Good evening, I’M ornery! The judge is feeling really evil, low down, and disagreeable, and EVERYBODY’S going to JAIL this evening! In fact, I’m feeling SO nasty, that I’m gonna start off by giving MYSELF thirty days!

Prosecutor: Judge, I hope that Your Honor hasn’t been drinking on the job again!

Judge: You can hope all you want, but, I’ll remind you that I do not drink on the job, and I haven’t had a drop for at least five minutes! (Tosses empty pint bottle of firewhiskey off-stage to loud "breaking glass" sound effect)

Prosecutor: Your Honor, we have a lot of criminals for you to try this evening.

Judge: Bring ‘em in, and I’ll give ‘em FROM NOW ON! (Slams enormous prop rubber gavel on bench)

Bailiff: Call the case of Miss Pinkie Violet Bunz.

(Miss Bunz, in a way-too-tight red dress, begins sashaying to the front of the courtroom, to the accompaniment of drum rim-shots)

Judge: Where is she, dog-gone her soul? (Notices the defendant sitting down in the witness chair) How DO you DO, Miss Bunz! Are you Pinkie, or are you Violet?

Defendant Bunz: Well, Your Honor, that depends on just what part of me you’re looking at! (Winks at the judge and bends over to give him a better view of her ample cleavage).

Judge: Good gracious alive! For sure, you don’t get many of THOSE to the pound!

Prosecutor: Miss Bunz is charged with Solicitation, Your Honor.

Judge: Solici-WHO?

Prosecutor: Solicitation for Prostitution, Your Honor.

Judge: I don’t care what charity she was collecting for! What’d she DO?

Prosecutor: She’s charged with being a prostitute, Your Honor.

Judge: But, I thought YOU were the Head Prostitute in this court.

Prosecutor: No, no, Your Honor. I’m the PROSECUTOR.

Judge: Well, then, what the hell is a prostitute?

Prosecutor: It’s a person who takes your money and promises to do, er, special things for you, Your Honor.

Judge: Oh! You mean that she’s a POLITICIAN!

Prosecutor: No, Your Honor! I meant that she’s a witch charged with taking people’s money and . . . and SHAGGING them.

Judge: That’s what I said; she’s a POLITICIAN!

Prosecutor: NO, NO, NO, Your Honor, she’s charged with being a prostitute – you know – a streetwalker, a lady of the evening, a hooker, or a whore!

Judge: Really? This young, sweet, and innocent-looking witch is all that? Tell me, Miss Bunz, are you a prostitute?

Defendant Bunz: No, Your Honor, I am not.

Judge: What are you, then?

Defendant Bunz: I’m a dressmaker.

Judge: A dressmaker! Do you make your living that way?

Defendant Bunz: I surely do, Your Honor.

Judge: Case dismissed. You’re free to go, Miss Bunz. (Observes Miss Bunz walking out) Ummm UM! THAT must be what they mean when they say that it’s made of jelly, ‘cause jam don’t shake like that! Call the next case.

Bailiff: Call the case of Miss Penissa Plunger.

(Miss Plunger, in an equally tight dress, gyrates her way up to the witness chair, to the accompaniment of more drum rim-shots)

Prosecutor: Miss Plunger also is charged with Solicitation, Your Honor.

(The Judge, preoccupied with staring at the upper front of Miss Plunger’s well-filled dress, misses this)

Judge: Huh? Whazzat you said?

Prosecutor: Your Honor, Miss Plunger is charged with Prostitution.

Judge: What? Do you mean to tell me that this lovely big pair, er, I mean, this young, sweet, and innocent-looking witch is a . . . a woman of loose virtue? Miss Plunger, are you a prostitute?

Defendant Plunger: (Batting her eyelashes and smiling at the judge) No, Your Honor, I’m a dressmaker.

Judge: Another dressmaker! Do you make your living that way?

Defendant Plunger: I certainly do, sir.

Judge: Case dismissed! Young lady, you’re free to go. (Observes Miss Plunger’s exit) Now, THAT looks like two bulldog puppies fighting under a blanket!

Prosecutor: Your Honor, I object to your dismissals of these cases!

Judge: (Hits Prosecutor on the head with rubber gavel) Shut up, fool!

Prosecutor: On what grounds are you dismissing these cases?

Judge: (Hits Prosecutor again) On the COURTHOUSE grounds! What other grounds do you think you’re standing on? Call the next case.

Bailiff: Call the case of Miss Hormone Grinder.

Judge: Hormone Grinder! This sure sounds like a rough one! Bring her in, and I’ll put the JAIL on TOP of her!

(Miss Grinder, also in a way-too-tight and revealing dress, flounces up to the witness chair, to the accompaniment of drum rim-shots)

Prosecutor: Miss Grinder is charged with Solicitation, Your Honor.

Judge: (Ignores Prosecutor as he watches Miss Grinder sit down and begin to wriggle her posterior around the seat of the witness chair) Wha-wha-wha-wha-what’s the matter, Miss Grinder? Aren’t you comfortable?

Defendant Grinder: I’m so sorry, Your Honor, but it’s this chair. I just can’t help but to move around . . . a LOT . . . whenever I feel something BIG and HARD behind me!

Judge: My, my, my! Uh, where were we?

Prosecutor: Miss Grinder is accused of Solicitation for Prostitution.

Judge: Oh, yes. This young, sweet, and innocent-looking witch is charged with being a prostitute. Are you, Miss Grinder?

Defendant Grinder: Most assuredly, I am NOT, Your Honor. I am a dressmaker.

Judge: Yet ANOTHER dressmaker! Young lady, do you really make your living that way?

Defendant Grinder: Definitely, I do, Your Honor.

Judge: Case dismissed! You’re free to leave. (Watches Miss Grinder’s flouncing exit) My goodness gracious! THAT looks like two FULLY-GROWN bulldogs fighting under a blanket!

Prosecutor: I object, Your Honor.

Judge: What, do you think it looks more like a pair of MASTIFFS? I already told you to shut up about case dismissals. I can’t give time to such young, sweet, and innocent-looking witches who make dresses for their living! Don’t you have any dark wizards, cauldron thieves, or used broom salesmen under arrest? Why don’t you bring me some REAL criminals for trial?

Prosecutor: I’m trying, Your Honor.

Judge: Hell, someone’s got to do time, sometime. (Holds up a very large book with the title, Magical Law) Look at all the YEARS I’ve got in this book! Somebody’s got to do ‘em, and it ain’t gonna be ME! Are there any more cases?

Prosecutor: We have one last case this evening.

Bailiff: Call the case of Miss Ronalda Shagnasty.

Judge: Bring her on up, and I’ll . . . what in the world?

(A loud disturbance occurs, due to a scuffle between the Bailiff and Defendant Shagnasty, clearly a large male in drag)

Bailiff: Come along, Miss. Get in here now.

Defendant Shagnasty: Take your filthy hands off me, you horrible big brute! I don’t give away ANY free feels!

Judge: Hey, gal, what’s the problem?

Defendant Shagnasty: This uniformed sex maniac of yours was trying to MO-lest my bum and my bosom!

Judge: Watch it, young lady! I don’t want any foul language in MY courtroom!

Defendant Shagnasty: I’m sorry, Your Honor, but I don’t play that game!

Judge: Hmm, something doesn’t seem right. Is ‘Shagnasty’ really your name, or is that what you do?

Defendant Shagnasty: It’s my name, AND it’s what I do!

Judge: Let me guess. Is Miss Shagnasty is charged with Solicitation?

Prosecutor: Solicitation for AND actually doing Prostitution, Your Honor.

Judge: Miss, you have been accused of Prostitution.

Defendant Shagnasty: I ain’t ACCUSED of nothing; I DONE this!

Judge: Is that so?

Defendant Shagnasty: It is, Your Honor. I’m a hooker, a streetwalker, a whore, a scarlet woman, and whatever else you want to call a professional working witch!

Judge: Oh, really! You ‘re admitting that you’re a lady of the evening?

Defendant Shagnasty: Not only am I a prostitute, but I’m a very, VERY good one, if I do say so myself!

Judge: Good gracious alive! Do you actually make your living that way?

Defendant Shagnasty: Well, I COULD . . . if it wasn’t for all those damned dressmakers!

Judge: Oh, my heavens!

(Curtain)

* * *

Backstage, a four-sided, loud, but very brief conversation began.

"HARRY," said Lavender.

"JAMES," added Parvati.

"POTTER," continued Hermione. "What the bloody hell was the meaning of those adlibs about . . . about . . . our . . . "

"Our rear ends?" offered Lavender.

"Our posteriors?" said Parvati.

"Our derrières?" finished Hermione.

"Hell," said Harry, "I thought I was talking about common, ordinary bums . . . er, I mean that none of yours are just common or ordinary, but . . . oh, sorry, ladies, but Ron and I have to go now."

Hermione turned to Lavender and Parvati.

"We've got to get even with him for this," she said. "Remember the part near the end when he and Ron introduce the rest of the cast? Well, one good script change deserves another! Here's what we're going to do . . . "

To be continued

In Chapter Four, Harry and Ron will end the show with more standup comedy. Magical variants of dirty jokes will abound, and Harry and Ron will get even with Slytherin House, especially with Draco and Snape. How will Hermione, Lavender, and Parvati get even with Harry?

A/N: The original Judge and the Dressmaker skit, as performed by the late Pigmeat Markham, was one of the shortest of his various "Judge" routines, lasting only a couple of minutes in live performance. My version here is considerably expanded and embellished.

4. Don't Get Mad - Get Even!

A/N: The story wraps up with this chapter, although there will be an epilogue to be posted later, unfortunately probably not for several days. The usual warnings for very nasty jokes, etc. are given. Ron is rewarded for his previous humiliations in the story by getting to tell a couple of pretty good Slytherin-bashing jokes. Thanks again to everyone who read & reviewed.

Chapter 4: Don't Get Mad -- Get Even!

(Curtain rises)

Harry: Well, everyone, we hope you’ve enjoyed the show.

Ron: Yeah, and we’re going to finish things up with some jokes.

Harry: We don’t say ‘finish’ lightly, because it’s possible that some in the audience, including members of the faculty, might not appreciate some of them.

Ron: So, the show might end with our getting detention, but it’ll be worth it!

Harry: But, before the ordinary jokes, we’d like to give our impression of what would happen if the distinguished Minister of Magic, and dirty, thieving git, Cornelius Fudge –

Ron: – were to use a time turner and meet himself on the street.

(Both walk to opposite sides of stage, put on lime-green bowler hats, turn around, and walk toward each other.)

Harry: Cornelius, my best friend!

Ron: Cornelius, my only buddy!

(Both embrace and then begin going through each other’s pockets, grabbing everything they can. Then, each pulls out a large rubber prop knife and begins stabbing the other in the back.)

(Curtain)

* * *

(Curtain rises)

Ron: Harry, you really should apologize for saying what you said about the Minister of Magic.

Harry: You’re right, Ron. Truly, I am sorry that Cornelius Fudge is a dirty, thieving git! He ought to marry Rita Skeeter, and they could have children who are VERY dirty, thieving gits!

(Mixed applause & murmurs from audience)

Ron: Well, let’s talk about something else. So, Harry, how long is it? About five and a half?

Harry: That’s a rather personal question, don’t you think? But, if you must know, you’re WAY off!

(Numerous screams and shrieks from females in audience)

Ron: NO, Harry! I meant how long is it that you’ve been back in the wizarding world? It is about five and a half YEARS, isn’t it?

Harry: OH . . . yes, that’s about it.

Ron: What do you think about the differences between magical folk and Muggles?

Harry: Actually, Ron, there are a lot more similarities than many might believe.

Ron: Such as?

Harry: Well, for one thing, almost everybody is obsessed with S-E-X.

Ron: You’re right about that, mate.

Harry: However, I have discovered that witches can be quite different in how they relate to sex.

Ron: How so?

Harry: Well, consider our school and its four different houses. Witches from Hufflepuff are great, because they’re so friendly and fun loving, while those from Ravenclaw are wonderful, because they always know exactly what they’re doing. Of course, Gryffindor witches are the very best, because they’re brave enough to try anything!

(Mixture of cheers and jeers from the audience)

Ron: What about witches from Slytherin?

Harry: Who cares?

(Laughter from audience)

Ron: Well, we all know that you’ve had issues with some Slytherins, Harry.

Harry: That’s true, but did you know that I tried to do a good deed and help a certain Slytherin classmate of ours?

Ron: When was this, and who was it?

Harry: It was this past summer holiday, at a seaside resort, where my caring and trusting relations had dragged me, rather than leave me alone in their home. And, believe it or not, it involved a Slytherin wizard of particularly nasty personality, who shall remain nameless, in order to avoid embarrassment.

Ron: Come on, Harry, you can tell me, your best mate, can’t you?

Harry: I’ll give you two clues. First, he used to put enough goop in his hair that one could use it to do a complete chassis lube of the Knight Bus! Second, either ‘Dung Mouth’ or ‘Dirty M-F-er’ would be an appropriate alternate use of his name’s initials!

Ron: Wow! Well, what happened with ‘D-M’ this summer?

Harry: I ran into him on the beach, and I mean it literally, as both of us had our attention on, er, the scenery, that is, the vast array of skimpy swimwear almost being worn by young female Muggles. Anyway, to make a long story short, ‘D-M’ broke down and asked me for a favor.

Ron: What, exactly?

Harry: Knowing my background, he wanted advice on what he could do in order to attract the attention of the lovely young Muggle sunbathers.

Ron: What did you tell him?

Harry: I suggested that he should substitute a tight, racing-style ‘speedo’ for the fashionable, but rather shapeless ‘baggie’ swim trunks that he was wearing. Well, he did so, and the next morning we met again, but he glared at me and informed me that my suggestion had not worked. He claimed that most of the birds were ignoring him and that a few were taking a single look and snickering.

Ron: Why not? What happened?

Harry: To be brutally honest, the tight swimsuit did nothing but to advertise a rather significant, er, shortcoming of his, if you get my meaning.

Ron: Really? Just how 'insignificant' was he?

Harry: Let me put it this way. If, in an intense state of arousal, he walked straight into a wall, he'd break his nose before anything else touched. Anyway, being a kindly, caring, and patient sort of person, I decided that I would do my best to help out the unfortunate lad.

Ron: Ha! So, what further advice did you have for ‘Mr. Toothpick,’ our charming Slytherin classmate, other than his performing on himself an illegal underage engorgement charm?

Harry: I told him to get a large potato, slip it into his tight swimsuit, and take a slow stroll down the beach. I promised that he would get some attention. Apparently, the next morning he did so, and we met yet again, to the accompaniment of very loud laughter and finger pointing, all directed at him. He sneered at me, and he informed me that my most recent advice was worthless, as he was getting only plenty of the wrong sort of attention!

Ron: What did you say, Harry?

Harry: I suggested that if he wanted for my advice to work, then perhaps he should consider putting the potato inside the FRONT of his trunks!

(Laughter from most in audience)

* * *

Ron: Ha! That’s a typical Slytherin for you. By the way, Harry, did you hear about the extra-thick young Slytherin witch and wizard who were engaged to be married?

Harry: No, what happened?

Ron: Well, they were so dense that nothing either pair of parents said to them about sex got through. They just couldn’t understand. So, the parents decided to get some professional help in the form of a medi-wizard, and they owled him about the situation.

The young couple went to his office, and he spent hours trying to explain the facts of life to them, even using illustrated healing books, but to no avail. Finally, in exasperation, he told the young witch to strip and to lie down on the examination table. He took off his own clothes, climbed up on the table, got between her legs, and proceeded to shag the you-know-what out of her.

When he finished, he got off, dressed, and said to both of them, "NOW do you understand exactly what sex is all about?"

"Oh, yes," answered both of the young Slytherins together, "we can’t thank you enough for explaining it so well."

As they were leaving, the young wizard turned back and asked him a question, "by the way, sir, how often do I have to bring her in?"

(Laughter from all, excepting some Slytherins)

* * *

Harry: That’s a good one, Ron, but I’ve got another one about sex and innocence. Did you hear about the Ravenclaw wizard who married the Hufflepuff witch?

Ron: No, tell me about them.

Harry: Well, on their wedding night, when they got undressed, the innocent young witch got her first close look at a male’s anatomy.

"What exactly is that thing?" she asked her new husband, pointing between his legs.

"Uh, that’s my ‘rope,’ honey," the quick-witted Ravenclaw wizard replied.

"And those oval things in that sack under your rope are what?" she continued.

"Uh, they’re just a couple of ‘knots,’ dear," he answered.

Well, they got into bed and made love. After a short recovery period, the wizard was ready for another go.

"Well, sweetie," he said to his wife, "what did you think of our first time?"

"It was nice, darling," she said.

"Would you like to do it again?" he asked.

"Sure," she replied, "only this time, if you don’t mind, could you untie those knots and give me some more rope?"

(Mixed laughter, groans, and boos from the audience at this rather old and lame effort)

* * *

Ron: That is pretty good, Harry, but I’ve got an even better one, about a Gryffindor wizard who married a Slytherin witch.

Harry: I’m almost scared to ask about them.

Ron: After a honeymoon of only three days, the Gryffindor wizard was ordered to report for Auror Training. They would be separated for more than a month! Now, their very brief married sex life had been great, and they did love each other, so they promised to remain faithful while they were apart. But, the wizard was uneasy about leaving his wife all alone for so long, and he decided to take precautions against her being tempted to mess around while he was away.

So, he visited the ‘back room/adults only’ section of Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes, Number 93 Diagon Alley, and coming soon to Hogsmeade!

(Laughter and jeers from the audience at the shameless commercial)

He wanted to get for his wife what is politely known in the adult entertainment trade as a ‘marital aid.’ As is the case with so many Gryffindor wizards, he was over-abundantly endowed in the reproductive equipment department.

(More laughter and jeers from the audience)

So, he purchased the largest vibrator available, a long and thick one made of hard plastic, battery-powered, and especially charmed to work properly in magical households. He took it home and explained its operation to his wife, and he asked her to use it whenever she felt a really strong urge for sex, and to try to pretend that the vibrator was, er, HIM.

He reported to the Ministry of Magic for his training, and the very next morning at breakfast, he received a howler from his wife! Her loud voice called him almost every dirty name that he had ever heard, plus some new ones. Immediately, he sent an owl to her with the simple message requesting, "what’s wrong?"

He received a quick reply from his Slytherin wife, saying the following:

"You low-life pile of dragon crap! The first night you were away, I missed you terribly. I took out the vibrator you bought, switched the motor on, and tried to pretend that it was you. The infernal device chipped both of my front teeth!"

(Laughter from the audience)

* * *

Harry: You know, Ron, even the Hogwarts teachers seem to be obsessed with sex.

Ron: Really?

Harry: Yes. For instance, the other evening, I happened to pass by the faculty sitting room, and I overheard a conversation between the four Heads of House.

Ron: What was it about?

Harry: Believe it or not, they were debating about the male penis! In particular, they were arguing over the reason for the shape of the head of the penis!

Ron: I don’t believe it!

Harry: I swear it’s true! Professor Flitwick, of Ravenclaw, was sure that it is shaped how it is, so that during the sex act, the WOMAN will experience increased pleasure.

(Cheers and whistles erupt from Ravenclaws and from many other females in the audience, which increase when a spotlight picks out Professor Flitwick, who climbs atop the back of his chair, bows to Harry and Ron, and grasps his hands above his head like a prizefighter)

Professor Sprout, of Hufflepuff, argued that it’s shaped the way it is, so that during the sex act, the MAN will receive increased pleasure.

(Cheers from Hufflepuffs and from other males in the audience, which increase when the spotlight hits Professor Sprout attempting to hide under her chair, only to have it levitated away by Professor Flitwick)

Professor McGonagall, of Gryffindor, disagreed with both of them, and she insisted that it’s shaped as it is, so that during the sex act, BOTH PARTNERS will experience greater pleasure.

(Cheers from Gryffindors and from almost everyone else in the audience, increasing as the spotlight shows Professor McGonagall blushing, but attempting to keep a straight face, before breaking into a big smile)

Finally, Professor Snape, of Slytherin, claimed that all three of his fellow teachers surely were wrong. He was absolutely certain that the head of the penis has its shape, so that during the sex act, ones HAND won’t slip off the end of it!

(Very loud laughs from everyone, excepting from some Slytherins, which increase when the spotlight catches Professor Snape’s uncharacteristically very red face)

* * *

Harry: That’s it, folks. We hope that you’ve enjoyed yourselves even a little bit as much as we’ve enjoyed doing this for you.

Ron: Yeah, and if anyone was offended, we apologize . . . NEVER!

Harry: Here’s the rest of the cast, with a brief description of what they contributed in addition to their performances. How about a round of applause for them?

Ron: Seamus Finnigan, who was the drummer and who handled all of the other music . . . Neville Longbottom, who handled the magical lighting and assisted with the scenery . . . and Dean Thomas, who designed the scenery and props.

(The three boys enter from stage left and bow)

Harry: Lavender Brown, who handled the makeup and assisted with the costumes . . . Parvati Patil, our real ‘dressmaker,’ who did the costumes . . . and Hormone Grinder, er, Hermione Granger, who wrote much of the production and directed it.

(The three girls, still in their too-tight dresses, enter from stage right, to the accompaniment of whistles and catcalls from the audience)

Ron: We want you lot in the audience with any unsavory ideas to understand one thing. These three lovely witches actually are NOT prostitutes!

Harry: They aren’t?

Ron: No, Harry, they aren’t. Would any of the gentlemen or ladies like to say something?

Hermione: (Glaring at Harry) Concerning some last minute script changes and adlibs by ‘the Judge,’ we would indeed!

Lavender: JELLY?

Parvati: BULLDOG PUPPIES?

Hermione: FULLY-GROWN BULLDOGS? MASTIFFS?

Harry: (Appearing somewhat confused) Well, er, ah, ladies, if the dress fits . . .

(Hermione hits Harry on the head with the prop gavel, and all three walk over to Seamus, Neville, and Dean, take their arms, and all six exit the stage)

Hermione: (Re-entering stage) Oh, Ron!

Ron: Er, what, Hermione?

Hermione: Harry was right; you were WAAAAAY off!

(More screams and shrieks from females in the audience)

Hermione: As for you, Harry James Potter, don’t feel too proud of yourself!

Harry: (Rubbing his head where he had been hit) Uh, why not, my lovely little slice of pumpkin pie?

Hermione: Because you’ll be spending a LOT of time in the immediate future discovering whether or not Professor Snape was correct!

(Hermione exits again to laughter and applause)

Ron: Whoa, Harry! Hermione didn’t seem too happy with your performance.

Harry: What do you mean? I've never had any complaints yet!

Ron: No, Harry. I meant about tonight's STAGE performance.

Harry: Well, she’ll just have to get over it. Anyway, she doesn’t seem to be quite as frosted as that time she slapped me, and for no good reason, I might add!

Ron: HERMIONE slapped YOU! When was that?

Harry: It was early this school year, just before we became a couple. She wanted a donation from me to auction off in some fundraising effort of hers.

Ron: Probably for Spew, wasn’t it?

Harry: It’s S-P-E-W, Ron. Anyway, I told her that I had nothing of value except for my Firebolt racing broom, and she was NOT getting that. However, it turned out that she wanted some articles of clothing. Why anyone would want any of my clothes, I do not know, and I told her so.

(Shrieks and screams from females in audience)

Ron: What happened?

Harry: She insisted that anything of mine would fetch a nice bid, and she offered to give me a hug if I gave her a tee shirt. So I did, and she hugged me.

Ron: What about the slap?

Harry: I’m getting to it. Then, she asked for one of my neckties, and she promised me a kiss for it. Well, I gave a tie to her, and she gave me a kiss on the cheek.

Ron: Are we getting to the slap?

Harry: It coming right up. I thanked her for giving me a hug for my shirt and a kiss for my necktie. Then, I asked her what I could get for a pair of my boxer shorts, and she gave me . . . a BIG slap!

(Laughter from the audience)

Ron: Oh, I almost forgot. I’m Ron Weasley, and he’s Harry Potter.

Harry: And all we did in this production, besides making fools of ourselves on stage, was a bit of writing. We’ll end this travesty on a high literary note, with a poem.

Ron: Here goes:

There was a young witch from Nantucket . . .

Harry: No, no, Ron, not that one!

Ron: Oh, yes. You’re right, Harry. How about this one:

The trees may kiss the birds on high,

The flowers may kiss the butterfly.

The sparkling wine may kiss the glass,

And you, dear friends, may kiss –

Harry: (quickly covering Ron’s mouth with his hand) – us goodbye!

Together: Goodnight, everybody!

(Curtain)

* * *

To be concluded

A/N: In addition to the credit due in earlier chapters to Abbott & Costello and Pigmeat Markham (Ron's concluding four-line poem above is from his Canadian Dime sketch), some readers will recognize bits and pieces, often considerably modified, from comedians such as Groucho Marx, Benny Hill, and Rodney Dangerfield.

The main story is done, but I hope to have an epilogue finished and posted within a week at the latest.

5. Make Like Snape?

A/N: I’m very sorry for the long delay in the originally planned (and promised) very brief epilogue, wherein Harry and Hermione "make up" in a suitably smutty manner. The real world intruded, as it often does. BUT, the good news is that the epilogue has changed into at least two more chapters. While proofing the original, I got an idea. As sometimes happens, the idea got another idea, and then, yet more ideas. So, here is Chapter Five, with the usual warnings for innuendo, nasty jokes, etc. Thanks again to everyone for all of the wonderful reviews.

Chapter 5: Make Like Snape?

Immediately following the closing curtain, the Gryffindor fifth and seventh year students in the audience made their way to the backstage area. They, along with many honest Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw classmates accompanying them, were convinced that the sixth year Gryffindors in general, and Harry and Ron in particular, had performed by far the best entertainment of the week. Without question, it had been the funniest.

There were many congratulatory handshakes, backslaps, hugs, and friendly kisses. While politely acknowledging all of them directed at him, Harry continued both to try to catch Hermione's eye and to make his way to her through the boisterous crowd.

Finally, they were face to face, and Harry noticed that Hermione was staring at him, with a slightly disapproving look.

He rubbed the place on his head where she had whacked him with the prop gavel, and he put on his very best "little-boy-with-a-lost-puppy" expression.

"Uh, you aren’t really upset, are you, Hermione?" he asked.

"UPSET!" she answered. "Why should I be upset in the least? And, don’t give me that look!"

"Hermione," he began.

"Let’s see," Hermione continued, "you compared my backside first with a pair of the ugliest of all dogs, and then with the largest of them!"

"But, Hermione," Harry tried again.

"Oh, and don’t think for a second that I missed those earlier cracks about my ‘holding on for dear life’ and ‘making you do all the work whenever you got me on your powerful stick’ and such rubbish!" she added.

"But," Harry tried yet again, strengthening considerably his hurt expression to that of a hopefully more appealing "little-boy-whose-puppy-has-just-been-run-over-by-a-car."

"And, don’t you DARE to give me THAT look, either!" she exclaimed.

Before either Hermione could say more or Harry could try to respond, they were interrupted by a loud voice from at least ten feet away.

"HARRY! HERMIONE!" yelled Ginny Weasley, walking toward them and trying to be heard over the din of numerous conversations, "that was a GREAT show!"

"Thanks," both of them said.

"By the way, Harry," Ginny went on, with a wink, as she joined them, "if it’s true that in the immediate future, Hermione expects you ‘to make like Snape,’ then maybe you could - "

Suddenly, all of the other conversations stopped, but Ginny continued, in what now was a VERY loud voice, "GIVE ME A GOOD GO ON YOUR POWERFUL STICK!"

There was dead silence, and Ginny turned around, only to see Professor McGonagall staring at her, with a severe expression on her face.

"Miss Weasley! Sincerely, I HOPE that you are referring to Mr. Potter’s BROOM!" said the professor.

Ginny, her face rapidly assuming the approximate hue and brightness of her hair, could make only a strangled noise resembling nothing so much as an attempt to say "eeep" and "oops" and "oh, shit" simultaneously.

Meanwhile, to Harry’s consternation, both Hermione and Ron, who had just joined them, were looking daggers at HIM!

"May I have everyone’s attention, please," Professor McGonagall said, "as the entire transfigured theater area needs to be undone, so that we may have our Great Hall once again, I ask that all begin to leave for their houses immediately. I’m sorry, but Gryffindor sixth years will need to return in their makeup and costumes. This is because the backstage dressing room facilities were the last to be created, therefore, they will be the first to be changed back."

Turning to Hermione, Professor McGonagall said, "Miss Granger, I applaud your supervision of a generally fine entertainment, and I award Gryffindor House fifty points."

Harry grinned and smiled at Hermione, but his pleasure was cut short, when his Head of House addressed him.

"Mr. Potter," she began, and noticing Ron, she continued, "oh, and Mr. Weasley, as well, while your part of the show was amusing, ALSO it was more than a just a bit off-color. Further, it was unconscionably demeaning and insulting both to another house of this school and to a particular fellow student, as well as to a member of the faculty. For this, I must deduct ten points . . . EACH . . . and both of you will serve an hour’s detention."

"But," Harry and Ron both said, but Professor McGonagall wasn’t finished yet.

"You will serve your detentions in the library. Mr. Weasley, you will write an essay describing the benefits of getting along well with students of other houses. Mr. Potter, you will do one concerning the need for students to demonstrate appropriate respect for members of the teaching staff."

"But," Harry and Ron tried again.

"No arguments! I want twelve inches from each of you!"

"Who doesn’t?" Lavender Brown asked rhetorically, without thinking, and in response, most of the students began to giggle, excepting Parvati and Hermione, who just sighed and glared at her, respectively.

"Twelve inches of PARCHMENT, I mean," said Professor McGonagall, a bit flustered, but she regained her composure quickly enough to cast a withering look at Lavender, only to lose it again upon hearing a new voice.

"Oh, for heaven’s sakes, lighten up and untwist your knickers, Minnie!" came the squeaky request of Professor Flitwick, who had joined the group. He added, "you were laughing as loudly as anyone else in the audience!"

Everyone was speechless, and Harry and Ron looked at each other, both of them silently mouthing the name "Minnie," with an equally unspoken half dozen question marks appended to it. Then, both gave involuntary shudders, as the unbidden and most emphatically unwanted vision of Professor McGonagall in her aforementioned undergarments entered their minds.

The diminutive professor continued, "I say, that was a brilliant show, and every Gryffindor House sixth year is to be commended, especially you, Miss Granger, for your direction of it. I, too, shall award fifty points, and I must single out for additional consideration the contributions of Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley."

Giving them a wink, he went on, "I believe that the entertainment value of your performances is deserving of additional credit . . . perhaps ten points . . . EACH! Yes, I think that should do it."

"Professor McGonagall," Hermione spoke. "It . . . it wasn’t Harry’s and Ron’s fault at all. I . . . I’m the one who told them to do those jokes."

Before Professor McGonagall could respond, Professor Flitwick exclaimed excitedly, "Oh, my goodness, Miss Granger! I suppose that I must award an additional ten points to you, as well!"

"Miss Granger, I am so disappointed," Professor McGonagall began, only to be interrupted by Harry.

"No, it’s NOT her fault," said Harry. "Originally, Hermione insisted that we should cut the, er, nastier of the jokes. She only agreed for us to go ahead after seeing Slytherin’s lame idea of entertainment, which she says was plagiarized from a famous stage play. Besides, it was pretty insulting and demeaning to her, personally, as well as to other students."

"Very well," replied Professor McGonagall. "I will suspend the library detention time, BUT, you two WILL do the assigned essays, at your leisure, but they are to be turned in to me no later than one week from tomorrow. AND," she added, "Miss Granger, you are NOT to help either of them with their writing!"

She looked thoughtful for a few seconds, and then uncharacteristically broke out in a very wide smile. "The entire show WAS quite entertaining. The look on Severus Snape’s face, when he heard that punch line . . . "

Professor Flitwick cut in, "you must admit, Minerva, that this was at least as good as, if not even funnier than, the hilarious Gryffindor Sixth Year Show done twenty years ago by Mr. Potter’s future parents and Mr. Black!"

Suddenly, Harry’s attention was riveted to Professor Flitwick’s words. Quickly, and with an accusatory look, he glanced at Hermione, but he saw that she seemed genuinely to be as surprised and puzzled as he was.

"My . . . my Mum and Dad . . . and . . . and Sirius were in a show?" Harry asked, clearly agitated and trying very hard to keep his temper in check.

"Oh, dear me!" said Professor Flitwick, "you didn’t know? Minerva, didn’t you mention this to them?"

Hermione broke in, attempting to forestall a possible "Potter Eruption" in front of the two teachers, "there’s nothing in Hogwarts: A History about any entertainment week, or other student shows for that matter, more recent than the second decade of the twentieth century!"

Somewhat subdued, Professor McGonagall said, "I was hoping to avoid a repeat of how that one ended, and . . . and I had another reason, as well."

"Wait a minute," Harry said, but Professor McGonagall continued to speak.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, and Mr. Weasley," she said, and then she frowned upon noticing that Ron had begun to leave the area with his sister Ginny. They were engaged in what a kindly disposed person would describe as a "discussion," but what a more honest one would call a "heated argument." Luna Lovegood, who had come backstage with some fellow Ravenclaws to offer congratulations, was attempting to serve as a referee.

"Ah," Professor McGonagall continued, "I see that he is busy at the moment." Turning back to her other two students, she hesitated, and then she said, "Harry, Hermione, would you like to join me in my quarters and discuss anything you wish concerning Lily, James, and Sirius? Filius, could you . . . would you be willing to explain . . . "

"Of course, Minerva," he answered, "but, we have a bit a work to do before we can repair to your sitting room and make ourselves more comfortable for what may be a long evening of questions and answers." Turning to the students, he continued, "although I find it most attractive, Miss Granger, I suppose that you might wish to clean up and to change into more usual and comfortable attire."

Harry actually grinned, and said, "Aw, does she have to? I think she looks perfectly okay just as she is!"

Hermione, realizing that she still was wearing both her exaggerated stage makeup and her very tight and revealing costume, blushed, glared at Harry, and said, "Harry, let’s go, NOW!"

"Of course, my dear," he answered, "I never argue with a ‘dressmaker’ . . . er, a LADY!"

"Yes, you are quite correct, Filius," said Professor McGonagall, answering Professor Flitwick. To Hermione and Harry, she added, "please take however much time you require to change clothes and such. Professor Flitwick and I will need awhile to restore the Great Hall completely. Why don’t we try to meet here in approximately thirty minutes?"

* * *

All of their housemates left just before Harry and Hermione, so they had the corridors to themselves as they headed back to Gryffindor Tower.

As they continued their slow walk, Harry began to get angry again. What possible reason could Professor McGonagall have for not telling him about his parents, Sirius, and the mysterious Sixth Year Entertainment Week of twenty years earlier?

Over the years, Professor McGonagall had treated him pretty much like any other student. There had been the unfortunate incidents in third year, concerning her failure to allow to him to go to Hogsmeade, and her impoundment of his new Firebolt broom. But, though he hadn’t appreciated it fully at the time, they were balanced by her special treatment of him previously, in first year, when she had gotten him on the house Quidditch team, and had bent school rules in order to send him his first broom, the Nimbus 2000.

Then, in his head, the figurative proverbial light bulb was turned on. ‘Of course,’ he thought, ‘her reason can be summed up in one word - Sirius. She was operating in ‘Substitute-Mother-for-Harry-Potter’ mode, when she decided not to bring up the subject!’

He gave a sniffle, and to his surprise, he felt Hermione’s hand grasp his and squeeze it.

"Are you okay, Harry?" she asked, concern evident in her voice.

"Uh, yes," he answered. He hesitated, turned to face her, gave her a small smile, and continued, "I’ve been doing some thinking . . . "

"I hope it hasn’t done any permanent damage to your head!" she replied, with a small smile.

"It was Sirius, of course," Harry said, "but I’m sure you already realized that."

"I’m sure it was," said Hermione, "and Harry, tonight is the first time that you’ve mentioned his name, since . . . since that night at the Ministry."

"Actually, what I was thinking about is that Professor McGonagall was playing her role of ‘Mummy to Harry,’ when she decided that it might have hurt me to have been reminded about that mess," said Harry. "You know, Hermione, I just may hold some sort of record, for being the orphan who has the most self-appointed replacement mothers in history. I can think of at least three other significant ones, besides Professor McGonagall."

"Who are you talking about, exactly," asked Hermione, somewhat puzzled.

"Well," said Harry, with a smile, "in addition to ‘Minnie,’ there’s Mrs. Weasley, of course, and there’s Madam Pomfrey. I think you’ll agree that both of them have acted toward me not unlike a mother tiger intensely interested in protecting her cub. You do remember being on the receiving end of Mrs. Weasley’s protective instincts toward me during our fourth year?"

"Oh, yes," Hermione giggled, "that’s when she discovered in Witch Weekly that I was the ‘scarlet woman’ who was trifling with your affections, as well as those of Viktor Krum."

"And, of course," continued Harry, "I doubt that anyone could count the number of times that Madam Pomfrey unceremoniously rousted friends from my bedside, whenever I found myself in her care and at her tender mercies."

"Who is the fourth one?" asked Hermione, as they entered the hallway that led to the Gryffindor House portrait door, "surely, she’s not your Aunt Petunia, is she?"

"Nope," said Harry. "But, you definitely should know her, since I’m holding her hand right now."

"ME!" Hermione exclaimed, "now, wait just a minute, I’ve NEVER - "

"Oh, yes, you have," retorted Harry, before she could finish, "AND, you loved almost every minute of it! To be fair, you’ve been a big sister to me also . . . I suppose that there must be something special about me, since I can’t help but to attract the caring attention of so many older women."

"OLDER WOMEN!" Hermione shouted, "why, you no good - "

Whatever Hermione intended to add was cut off abruptly, when Harry covered her mouth with his. He pulled back, and said, "I’ve never thanked you often or adequately enough for what you’ve done for me."

"HARRY!" Hermione began, but he put a forefinger over her lips.

"You do understand, I hope," he said, "that I was only joking . . . for laughs, about your body . . . and everything else, as well?"

He wrapped his arms around her and planted his lips on hers again. Just as he began to deepen the kiss into a serious bout of tongue wrestling, a blinding flash of light erupted.

It was accompanied by the distinctive sound of a camera’s shutter, and as they turned their heads, a surprised gasp was heard, as well. Dennis Creevey, the younger of the two Gryffindor brothers who were photography buffs, was staring at them. He looked from Harry to Hermione, and obviously, he failed to recognize her in makeup and costume.

"Har . . . Har . . . Harry!" he exclaimed. "I didn’t know it was you . . . and . . . and . . . some . . . "

Without completing his sentence, Dennis turned and fled back into the now open entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Through the doorway, they heard the third year’s loud and very excited voice.

"HEY, everyone! Harry’s just outside, and he’s snogging some really hot looking strumpet! I got a picture of them, too!"

Hermione tried to yell something, but Harry’s mouth cut it off again, and he dropped his hands from her back to her bum, pulling her tightly against his body.

Her eyes widened, and she started to push him away, but Harry would have none of it. Finally, he broke off the kiss and looked at her.

"Well, are you two coming in, or are you just interested in conducting inventories of each other’s teeth?" asked the fat lady in the portrait cover to the entrance.

"HARRY POTTER! Did you hear what that little twerp called me?" Hermione demanded, ignoring the fat lady’s question.

"Well," offered Harry, laughing, "he was half right, wasn’t he? You are really quite hot looking in that getup."

"He won’t think so, once I shove my foot far enough up his arse that he’ll be able to taste it!" Hermione replied. Suddenly, her expression changed from one of anger to that of concern. "What if the little sneak sells that picture to Witch Weekly or to some other news rag?"

Harry just laughed. "I can see the headline; ‘Innocent Boy-Who-Lived Ravished by Unknown Painted Floozy!’ or something similar." He looked at Hermione, and added, "Hey, don’t worry. I’ll have a ‘talk’ with young Mr. Creevey about the situation. Besides, I might want an 8x10 or two of that picture for myself!"

"You wouldn’t!" said Hermione. She continued, "anyway, don’t change the subject!"

"What? I did NOT change the subject," said Harry, clearly puzzled, but Hermione interrupted him.

"I insist on getting back to that ‘older women’ crack of yours! I’ll have you know that I am NOT that much older than you!" Hermione said.

"Well, you are almost a year older than me, aren’t you," asked Harry, with a grin.

"Ten months is more like it!" rejoined Hermione, and she stopped speaking as they entered the common room, to be greeted by some wide-eyed fellow housemates, including Lavender and Parvati, who were sitting together on the large sofa.

"Yes," Hermione continued, "it’s only about ten!"

"It’s closer to eleven, I think," said Harry, still grinning.

"ELEVEN? You’re crazy, Mr. Potter! Maybe it’s ten and a half!" said Hermione, still a bit miffed, "but not a bit more!"

Lavender and Parvati looked at each other, sighed, and Lavender spoke up. "Of all the ungrateful, lucky bit - , er, persons!"

"Yes!" added Parvati, and turning to Hermione, she added, "you’re arguing with the hottest guy at Hogwarts over a lousy half of an inch?"

Harry laughed, blushed, and then said to Hermione, "I’ll be having my little discussion with Dennis. I’m sure that that you have things to talk about with your dorm mates."

Hermione started to explode, but then she composed herself, and she thought, ‘I’m going to fix that pair of gossip-mongering sluts once and for all.’

"Oh," she said to the pair, "were you saying something to me? Harry and I were debating about how much OLDER I was, whether it was ten, ten-and-one-half, or eleven MONTHS."

She smiled at their suddenly blushing faces, and then before either of them could speak, she continued.

"Ah, I think I understand," she said, "you thought that we were discussing the . . . er, measurement of something ELSE," and she added, in a conspiratorial whisper, "Harry’s . . . ‘wand,’ I bet."

Both Lavender and Parvati looked at Hermione, their mouths agape.

"Well," Hermione continued, "can I trust you two to keep this private?"

"Certainly," said Lavender.

"Of course," Parvati added quickly.

"If you have to know," Hermione whispered, "Harry’s ‘wand’ actually is eleven inches!"

"WHAT!" exclaimed Lavender.

"I don’t believe it," said Parvati, "ELEV - "

"SHHH!" said Hermione, cutting her off, in a loud whisper. "I’m telling you that most certainly, it IS!" With a dreamy expression, she continued, "and my heavens, you wouldn’t believe the spectacular ‘magic’ that he can work with it! What’s the matter, haven’t either of you ever seen any others of that length?"

"I wish," said Lavender.

"Me, too," said Parvati.

"Well," Hermione continued, "I’VE seen others close in size to Harry’s."

"WHO?" the two girls demanded.

"Well," said Hermione, "back in fourth year, Viktor Krum’s almost as long, less than an inch shorter, but it was a bit thicker and stiffer!"

"THICKER?" asked Lavender.

"STIFFER?" asked Parvati.

"Yes," said Hermione, "Viktor said that in Bulgaria, most wizards and witches preferred them that way."

"I guess so!" said Lavender.

"I should HOPE so!" added Parvati.

"Who else’s have you seen?" asked Lavender.

"Ron’s, of course," said Hermione.

"RON WEASLEY?" said Parvati.

"Now, wait a minute," Lavender began, but Hermione cut her off.

"Back in second year, Ron actually broke his wand," said Hermione. "I offered to help him, but the prat wouldn’t let me touch it! In fact, he refused to believe that anything was wrong until Professor McGonagall saw it and told him so!"

"PROFESSOR MCGONAGALL," began Parvati.

"Saw Ron’s ‘wand’ during second year?" Lavender finished the question.

"Of course," said Hermione, "you do remember how Ron used to sit near the front in Transfiguration, don’t you? Whenever he would get bored, which was almost every class, he’d twiddle his wand under the desk!"

Lavender and Parvati looked at each other, and then they looked at Hermione, disbelief clearly on their faces.

"So, you girls doubt my word, do you?" asked Hermione, and she called across the room, "Harry, dear, would you come here for a moment?"

Harry complied, noticing both Hermione’s wink and her silent mouthing of ‘play along, please!’ while out of the view of the pair on the sofa.

"Harry, these two seem to doubt my veracity concerning the size of . . . your ‘wand,’ so would you . . . could you . . . PROVE it to them," Hermione said.

"Of course, if you’re sure, Hermione," said Harry, giving a quick glance around, as if to make sure that no one else was looking. "So, ladies, excuse me while I whip this out!"

Both of the girls gave audible gasps, their eyes bulged out, and they tried unsuccessfully to back away.

Harry reached down toward the front of his trousers, and he withdrew his magical wand from Ollivanders, only to be greeted by what could be described accurately as a bizarre audible combination of relief and disappointment from Lavender and Parvati.

Smiling at the pair, he said, "it’s eleven inches in length, made of holly, and has a phoenix tail feather as its magical core. According to Mr. Ollivander, it’s ‘nice and supple,’ and I’m inclined to agree with him."

"See," said Hermione, smirking at the pair of her silent dorm mates, "I told you so!"

She turned to Harry, and said, "we’d better get cleaned up quickly, if we’re to get out here any time soon."

"You’re correct, as usual, Hermione," said Harry, as they left for their dorms, "and, about what we discussing earlier, you really do have the loveliest bum in all of Hogwarts!"

"I don’t think so," Hermione answered, with a smile, "there’s at least one other that’s lovelier!"

Saying that, she reached out and pinched Harry’s backside.

Listening to and watching the exchange, Lavender and Parvati just sighed.

To be continued

A/N: The "excuse me, while I whip . . . " line is "borrowed" from Mel Brooks’s hilarious western film send-up, Blazing Saddles. The next chapter will cover Harry and Hermione’s conversation with Professors Flitwick and McGonagall, with guest flashback appearances by Lily and the Marauders!

6. Professor Flitwick’s Advice & History Lessons

A/N: This chapter kept growing in size, to the point that it had to be split in two. This part will have some material that may be a bit tedious, such as real history (oh, the horror!), but it will have enough naughty laughs to keep it interesting. It will serve as a bridge to the next chapter, where, as promised, Lily and the Marauders will make guest appearances.

Thanks again for the all of the reviews, and please enjoy.

Gryffindor Sixth Year Follies

Chapter 6: Professor Flitwick’s Advice & History Lessons

After quickly cleaning up and changing their clothes, Harry and Hermione met up in the Gryffindor common room. It was deserted except for Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, who were still sitting on the large sofa. Both still had somewhat strange expressions and appeared to be in states of shock. Before either of them could say anything, Hermione spoke.

"We’re off to a meeting with Professors McGonagall and Flitwick," Hermione said, "and, we have no idea how long we’ll be out. So, don’t bother to wait up. Besides," she added, with a wicked little grin, "when we return, we may need to use the sofa for a while!"

They glanced at Hermione, and both sniffed in apparent disapproval at her choice of attire for a late night excursion with a fellow student of a "hot" and male nature.

In fact, Hermione was dressed almost the same as was Harry, and both were wearing loose-fitting jeans and very oversized and bulky hand-knit sweaters of the annual "Molly Weasley Christmas Present" variety.

Harry sensed the wordless exchange between the three girls regarding Hermione’s fashion taste, or rather, her implied lack of it, and he spoke up loudly enough for Lavender and Parvati to overhear.

"Hermione, you look great! I always have preferred very large sweaters," he said, "because first, they’re more effective in cold weather, as one can have more layers of clothing under them. AND, in the case of beautiful young witches, they have a second great advantage."

All three young women looked at him with puzzled expressions, and Harry continued.

"While very tight sweaters do LOOK nice on the right sorts of girls, very loose ones provide much more room underneath for manual maneuvering!" said Harry, as he reached toward the lower front of Hermione’s sweater.

"HARRY POTTER!" Hermione exclaimed, as she swatted his hands away. "Don’t even think about it - at least maybe until later!" she added, with a wide smile.

They left the common room to the accompaniment of sighs and moans from Lavender and Parvati.

* * * * *

Just outside the exit, Hermione stopped.

"Harry," she said, "when we get to the Great Hall, do you suppose . . . could you walk with Professor Flitwick . . . while I speak with Professor McGonagall?"

"Uh, sure," answered Harry, a bit puzzled.

They hurried along the hallways and arrived at the entrance to the Great Hall and discovered that it was the Great Hall once again, and that the two teachers were waiting for them.

"Shall we go up to my quarters?" said Professor McGonagall, in a no nonsense voice that was more a declarative sentence than a question.

Hermione smiled at Harry, blushed deeply, and then she joined her Head of House, and they began to make their way to the stairway leading to the upper floors.

"Well, Mr. Potter, it appears that the rumors are true," said Professor Flitwick.

"Er, what rumors, sir?" Harry asked.

"What else but that you and Miss Granger both are together, and, as I just saw, clearly are in love! You do realize that you’ve broken the hearts of most of the witches in Ravenclaw House, and I suspect, in the rest of the school."

"Ah . . . " Harry tried to speak, but nothing intelligible came out.

"You were about to ask how I confirmed your status, weren’t you?" said Professor Flitwick. "It’s quite simple; no woman, particularly one as intelligent and pretty as Miss Granger, blushes when she smiles at a man, unless she has very strong positive feelings for him, AND she has very pleasant recent memories of having acted with him on those feelings, or a determination to do so in the very immediate future!"

"You . . . you’re correct, sir . . . we are both together and in love!" admitted Harry.

"If I may, Mr. Potter, I’d like to offer a few brief pieces of advice, concerning the care and feeding of relationships with members of what has been erroneously called the ‘gentler’ sex."

Harry couldn’t help but to chuckle, and then a look of unease appeared on his face. Quickly, Professor Flitwick continued.

"Please do not be alarmed, dear boy! Most emphatically, I am NOT trying to give to you a version of ‘The Talk,’ or any other such rubbish. BUT, I assure you that this advice is quite useful," said the professor, with a twinkle in his eye. "Herewith are ‘Professor Flitwick’s Six Rules for the Proper Handling of Witches,’ presented at no charge, and worth every knut that you’re paying for them."

"Rule One is: It is not possible to tell her too often or too much that you love her! A corollary to this is that many relationships founder for the simple and stupid reason that all too frequently, wizards fail to follow Rule One!"

"Rule Two is: Never, EVER, speak aloud the ‘C-Word’ within earshot of your lover."

"What’s that, exactly," Harry asked.

"It’s a certain VERY vulgar bit of slang used to refer to a female generally or to that part of her body located centrally and between her legs. Obviously, it begins with a ‘c’ . . . and it rhymes with ‘hunt,’ and the less said about it, the better!"

"Oh," said Harry, blushing.

"It must be noted that many females, witches as well as Muggles, are quite irrational regarding this word. While more than just a few of them feel free to use it themselves, when in the company of other females, almost none will tolerate its utterance from the mouth of a male!"

Harry smiled.

"Rule Three also is related to another of the ways in which witches can be quite irrational, and it is: Never, EVER make fun of the size, shape, or any other characteristic of a witch’s backside, and most especially of that one belonging to your lover. I believe that earlier tonight you discovered this for yourself!"

"Uh, why are so many young women so touchy about their bums?" asked Harry.

"It’s impossible to explain, but if one could interview any ten chosen witches, whom you or I or any other male would regard as having absolutely beautiful, fantastic, and delectable arses, at least nine of them would be certain that theirs was too big or too fat or had some other totally imagined defect," answered Professor Flitwick. "As a smaller sample, consider Miss Granger and your other two fellow housemates. You will admit that all three have extraordinarily attractive behinds, will you not?"

"Well," said Harry, carefully looking ahead at Hermione and Professor McGonagall, to make sure that they were safely out of earshot, "of course, they do, and I see your point. All three were really honked off by my jokes."

"To continue, Rule Four relates to another part of a witch’s body, specifically, her breasts, and it applies regardless of what you may have read in books, seen in Muggle films, or heard from fellow wizards, who may claim to be ‘experienced’ in handling female bodies. Do NOT squeeze, pinch, bite, or otherwise ‘manhandle’ them, because such does NOT give pleasure or stimulation to a witch. At best, such handling is uncomfortable, and more often, it is painful. In fact, unless and until she indicates otherwise, the best policy is to treat a witch’s breasts no more roughly than you would wish for your testicles to be handled."

Involuntarily, Harry winced at this, but he did nod his head in understanding.

"Next, Rule Five probably will not apply to you for a few years, but you should be aware of it. Rule Five is ‘the Rule of Seven,’ which admittedly sounds vaguely paradoxical, if not slightly wacky. In the event that you ever find yourself trapped by a witch into guessing either her age or her weight, then do the following. Silently, make the most accurate estimate possible, and then subtract seven from it in order to answer her request."

Harry laughed at this, but Professor Flitwick continued.

"If you use a number greater than seven, most witches will know that you’re lying, and using a smaller number increases the unacceptable risk that your spoken guess will be higher than the actual figure. Now, common sense must be exercised. Obviously, you will not endear yourself to an eighteen-year-old witch, who looks that age, if you tell her that she looks eleven!"

Harry laughed even louder, earning curious looks from Hermione and Professor McGonagall, who had stopped walking ahead of them. Harry realized that it was because they had arrived at their destination.

Just before they joined the witches, Professor Flitwick spoke quickly. "The sixth and final rule is simplicity itself; from time to time, let her get on top!" and then he winked.

Harry blushed, but he winked back and spoke just as quickly. "Er, so far I haven’t had ‘to let her’ . . . since, er, she seems to prefer it that way!"

"A very wise decision, Mr. Potter! Never argue with a beautiful woman who knows exactly what she wants . . . and how she wants to get it!"

Both wizards laughed heartily, receiving strange looks from the witches, as they joined them and entered the door into Professor McGonagall’s office. They continued through a side door and found themselves in a cozy sitting room. Two large easy chairs, each with a small table next to it, flanked a warmly functioning fireplace, and a medium-sized sofa, with a pair of end tables, faced it. The teachers sat in the chairs, leaving the sofa for Harry and Hermione.

Two popping sounds announced the arrival of the house-elves, Dobby and Winky, both of whom held trays with an assortment of drinks and more solid refreshments. The two teachers were presented by Dobby with large glasses and two nearly full bottles, sherry for McGonagall and cognac for Flitwick, in a brandy snifter almost as large as he was.

"What would Miss Hermione Granger and Mr. Harry Potter like to drink?" Dobby requested.

"That hot chocolate looks divine," said Hermione, as she took a large mug from the tray. Dobby placed on her side table a steaming teapot, filled with a magically continuously warmed fresh supply of her drink of choice.

"Well, I don’t see any fire whiskey," said Harry, earning an over-the-spectacles reproving look from McGonagall, an outright glare from Hermione, and a chuckle from Flitwick, "so, I guess it’ll be butterbeer for me," and he took a large tankard from Dobby’s tray. Dobby added a large pitcher of more butterbeer on Harry’s side table.

Meanwhile, Winky had stocked all four small tables with plates heaped full of biscuits, small cakes, and other confections.

"Thank you, Dobby, and you too, Winky," said Hermione, and she gave Harry a pointed look.

"Uh, yeah," said Harry, "thanks for the food and drink. Uh, Dobby, how are Winky and you doing?"

As both of them should have expected, Dobby began to get agitated. Winky merely hiccuped, possibly due to her having sampled Harry’s butterbeer earlier. However, Dobby began sobbing, blowing his nose, and rubbing his eyes. This was no mean feat, as he did so while balancing the drink tray with one hand, and eventually, he managed to choke out actual words.

"Miss Hermione Granger and Mr. Harry Potter ALWAYS are too kind to Dobby! To think that young witches and wizards as great and powerful as them could be so kind to poor elves as unworthy . . . "

He was interrupted both by a loud hiccup from Winky, and words from Harry.

"Er, ah, that’s okay, Dobby," Harry said, "maybe, you should take care of Winky."

"As always, Mr. Harry Potter is as right as he is kind!" Dobby exclaimed, and with a single "pop" both elves disappeared.

The two professors exchanged interested looks, and the group sat sipping their drinks in silence. No more than thirty seconds passed, before Hermione’s curiosity got the better of her.

"Professors, why doesn’t Hogwarts: A History mention the Sixth Year Entertainment Week of twenty years ago?" asked Hermione.

"Filius," said Professor McGonagall to Flitwick, "you’re more conversant with matters of historical fact, with such being a longtime interest of yours, why don’t you . . . "

"Of course, Minerva, I’ll be happy to explain," he replied. To Hermione, he continued, "there are two different answers to that question, Miss Granger, er . . . Hermione . . . we’re in a rather informal and friendly setting, so you don’t mind if I call you by your first name, do you," said Professor Flitwick, who then took a sip of his cognac.

"Not at all, Professor," giving him a wide smile and blushing.

Upon seeing Hermione’s face, the small professor began to choke on his drink. Harry started to laugh, but with a mouth full of butterbeer, he landed in the same predicament as Professor Flitwick.

"What . . . what did I say that’s so funny?" Hermione demanded.

Professor McGonagall looked from one wizard to the other, and shrugged. With an uncharacteristic grin, she said, "Miss Granger . . . Hermione, always you must bear in mind that wizards, as well as Muggle males, suffer from both chromosomal and hormonal abnormalities!"

Hermione laughed out loud, and she looked first at Flitwick and then at Harry, and her smile widened AND her blush deepened. This provoked the two wizards into renewed coughing spasms.

"Obviously, this includes," McGonagall continued, "such male ‘subspecies’ as ‘Handsome-But-Sometimes-Irresponsible-Growing-Teenagers’ and ‘VERY-Dirty-Old-Goats’ among many others."

That said, she tried to glare at Harry and Flitwick, but was unsuccessful, and she joined Hermione in her laughter.

Finally, Harry recovered enough to talk. "It’s nothing important. It was a private joke between Professor Flitwick and me about the significance of, er, smart and beautiful women smiling and blushing at the same time."

"Indeed," said Professor Flitwick, finally able to speak, "I informed Harry that such a combined phenomenon generally indicates rather intense feelings of love on the part of the witch. When Miss Granger, I mean, when Hermione did so while looking at ME, well, I . . . "

"Oh," said Hermione and Professor McGonagall simultaneously. Unfortunately, next both of them smiled broadly AND blushed, which set off again the involuntary reactions of Harry and Professor Flitwick.

The two men got over their combined choking and laughter, and Professor Flitwick spoke again, "well, what else could we talk about, given the obvious fact that you two women undoubtedly were discussing young Harry’s virtues and shortcomings?"

Hermione couldn’t resist, "well, we WERE talking about Harry . . . and his . . . virtues, but certainly it was not about anything SHORT!"

Harry, who was grinning, broke out in a huge blush, which, of course, set the two women into rather loud giggling fits.

Eventually, things settled down enough that it was safe both for the group to resume sipping their drinks and for Professor Flitwick to answer Hermione’s question.

"Regarding your question, Hermione, there are two answers; one is simple and to the point, and the other is much more complicated. The short answer is that the entertainment of twenty years past neither restored nor continued an ongoing long tradition of significance. It was a one-time-only occurrence, and apparently was regarded as of minimal importance by the authors of the book."

"As you may have read, there were such entertainment weeks in the past, but the only actual consecutive series of them as annual events ran from February of 1806 through the same month of 1916, one hundred and eleven years, to be precise. In this situation, that interesting number has NO general magical or specific arithmantical significance at all, I assure you. The reason for those exact dates leads us to the second and more complicated answer to your question."

"A dirty little secret of the magical world is that far too few wizards and witches have any appreciation for or knowledge of the importance that historical events in the Muggle world have played in ours. Unfortunately, this includes magical folk who should know better, such as authors of decidedly incomplete histories. The two of you, given your backgrounds, probably are far more aware of this than are most of your fellow students, or even most of your teachers, for that matter. Can either of you recall a most significant historical event in British history in 1805, the year immediately prior to inauguration of the Entertainment Week?"

Without hesitation, Hermione said, "the Battle of Trafalgar Cape?"

"Yes! Very good, Hermione," said Professor Flitwick. "Very few people today, magical or Muggle, can appreciate the electrifying effect of that naval victory on the British nation. Some background history of the time, while possibly tedious, is necessary to understand the situation."

"As the nineteenth century dawned, the second of the two European wars stemming from the French Revolution was ending. Every member of the Second Coalition had been knocked out of the war against France, except for Britain. In 1802, those two remaining nations signed the Treaty of Amiens, but as in so many cases where great nations have different goals, the peace didn’t last very long. In 1803, the War of the Third Coalition began, albeit with little action for two years. Very shortly, no longer was Napoleon Bonaparte merely a capable and troublesome enemy general. Rather, he was the newly crowned Emperor of France, its political Head of State, as well as the leader of its military forces. Napoleon gathered a very large army at Boulogne, on the English Channel near Calais, in preparation for an invasion of England. Most important of the new developments, at least in a military sense, was Spain’s alliance with France, as their combined fleet was greater than that of Britain. Of course, the British Navy’s control of the seas was all that prevented Napoleon from executing his planned invasion and conquest of the British Isles. It simply could not dare to suffer a serious defeat."

"On October 21, 1805, off the southern coast of Spain, a British force under Admiral Lord Nelson engaged a larger French and Spanish fleet, and the British won a resounding victory, although the Great Admiral suffered a mortal wound. Now, keep in mind that only a little over two decades earlier, in 1781, French naval forces had sealed the success of the American Revolution in the battle of the Chesapeake Capes, by preventing a British fleet from reinforcing and supplying Lord Cornwallis’s army at Yorktown. Eventually he surrendered, ending the land war in America."

"British and French naval forces continued to fight each other elsewhere in the world, both following Lord Cornwallis’s surrender in the colonies and later, during the two French Revolutionary Wars. Nelson won the Battle of the Nile River, in 1798, during Napoleon’s bizarre excursion to Egypt. It was significant enough to cause its victor to be made ‘Baron Nelson of the Nile,’ but most of the naval battles prior to Trafalgar either were smaller affairs or were rather indecisive engagements. In short, the mythical British mastery of the seas had been stoutly contested by France and others over the previous couple of decades."

"Trafalgar was important for several reasons, some of immediate effect, and others more long term. It was the last major naval battle between sailing ships, and it marked the beginning of the end of a very long era. Also, it finally established unquestionable British supremacy on the seas for a century. Ironically, while it was thought at the time to have prevented a French invasion of England, Napoleon’s army actually had departed the Channel Coast well before the battle! The Little Emperor and La Grande Armee already had headed immediately for the southern part of what today is Germany, and eventually into a very bloody ten years of European history."

"To cut this boring dissertation short, as I noted earlier, the British reaction to Trafalgar was immense. The entire nation went more than a bit crazy in celebration, and when Hogwarts students of Muggle backgrounds received the news, at the latest over the winter holidays, they determined to bring the celebration to the school. Thus, the Sixth Year Entertainment Week became established."

Everyone took a break, drank and ate, and digested Flitwick’s answer.

"But, why did it end after 1916, Professor?" Hermione asked.

"Well, can either of you recall what occurred that year?"

"It was in the middle of the Great War, of course," said Hermione.

"Yes, but something more specific happened," answered Professor Flitwick.

Surprisingly, it was Harry who responded. "I bet that it was because of two of the longest and bloodiest battles in history, Verdun and the Somme."

"Oh my, that is splendid, Harry! You are correct in the greater sense, but it was the Somme River that was somewhat more important, and one additional new thing that occurred," said Professor Flitwick.

Both Hermione and Professor McGonagall stared in shock at Harry.

In explanation, he mumbled something about filling his time during the summer by reading some of his Aunt Petunia’s old school texts, as well as his cousin Dudley’s current ones, and they returned their attention to Professor Flitwick.

"On the western front, for the first few months of the Great War, in 1914, nothing much happened, excepting a lot of maneuvering by huge armies, and the exposures of the faulty grand strategies of both the Germans and the French. On the eastern, Italian, and Turkish fronts, serious mass casualties were beginning to occur, but neither the British nor the French really paid much attention to those theaters. They were grateful, I’m sure, that a lot of Russians, Italians, Serbs, and others were giving their lives in tying up large German and Austrian armies. However, the effects on Britain in general and on Hogwarts in particular were negligible."

"Things began to change in 1915. The western front trenches had established an effective stalemate, which everyone realized, save the politicians and senior military on all sides. Poison gas was used for the first time at Ypres, in April, and casualties began to increase alarmingly. A half century earlier, during the American Civil War, it had been established that advantage in battle had passed decisively to the defense. The combination of rifles, as opposed to older smoothbore muskets, and defensive positions, whether actual earthen trenches or improvised breastworks, required on average an offensive force three times the size of the defenders in order for an attack to succeed. Now, the nincompoop generals all knew this, and when one added machine guns and modern, quick-firing artillery, which actually accounted for most casualties, they should have realized that massed infantry attacks would result only in massive quantities of wounded and dead soldiers, as the cost for very little if any actual ground gained."

"By the end of 1915, the abortive Commonwealth and French eight-month-long attempt at Gallipoli to seize the Dardanelles from Turkey was abandoned, and the soldiers were being evacuated. A quarter of a million of the unsuccessful invaders, more than half of all involved, had been killed or wounded. The defending Turkish forces suffered terribly, as well. Still, the effects of the Great War of our school were minimal. A few former students, less than half a dozen, had been hurt or killed. However, quite a few more Muggle-born students had lost siblings and close relatives. Nevertheless, the 1916 Entertainment Week was felt to be a worthwhile brief escape both from schoolwork and from the greater world madness."

With a nod to Harry, the professor continued. "We come now to 1916. On February 21, actually during our Entertainment Week, the battle of Verdun commenced. It would last for ten months, with some breaks in the action, and it would become the single longest engagement of the Great War. When it ended on December 18, just very slightly under one million French and German soldiers had been killed or wounded. The battle of the Somme River began much later than Verdun, on June 24, or July 1, depending upon whether one dates it from the preparatory artillery barrage, or from when the poor infantrymen began their attack. It ended a month earlier, on November 18. However, in less than half of the duration of Verdun, even more casualties were incurred. Almost 1.3 million men were killed or wounded. Roughly half were German, but 420,000 were British. In fact, at the battle’s start, over 57,000 British casualties were suffered on a single day, the bloodiest in our history!"

"Needless to say, excepting only some of the more aloof members of Slytherin House, by the end of the year, everyone at Hogwarts had been affected in some manner by the war. Even those from magical backgrounds, who had suffered no personal familial loss, were appalled at the mass slaughter that the war had become. Almost no one felt like having ANY sort of diversionary ‘entertainment’ by the time February 1917 arrived. Additionally, early in that year, when plans would have been underway for the entertainment shows, the supply of eager and patriotic Muggle volunteers to man the trenches had begun to dry up. Conscription arrived in Britain, and with it came the certainty that many more former Hogwarts students, like it or not, would find themselves embroiled in the insanity on the continent."

"Thus ended a century-long tradition at Hogwarts," the professor finished.

Everyone in the room was silent for while. Hermione was visibly moved, and Harry reached over and squeezed her hand. She smiled at him and broke the silence.

"Professor Flitwick, how can so many people, especially the political leaders, have been so . . . so callously and unforgivably stupid for so long? I mean, the Great War was barely touched on in my Muggle school, without any real detail, and . . . "

"Hermione," the professor interrupted, in a soft voice, "I believe that you know the answer to your question. Unfortunately, at the times of tragedies, the current politicians never have the benefit of hindsight. Some of them may not have been, at least in their own minds, as evil or as foolish as they seem retrospectively. However, you might ponder an undeniable historical truth, to wit, almost always, the term ‘stupid politician’ is unnecessarily redundant! For contemporary proof of this, consider our own Ministry of Magic and its idiot head, Mr. Fudge. Be honest, and admit that if he were any less intelligent, he would require but a weekly watering to remain alive and healthy!"

Everyone smiled, and Professor Flitwick went on, "well, I’ve talked too long and undoubtedly, I’ve bored all of you nearly to death. Minerva, I believe that it’s your turn to enlighten our guests as to the real subject of this evening’s gathering, which definitely will be about more pleasant events."

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall, "it’s time to talk about Harry’s parents, Lily and James, about their best friend, Sirius Black, and finally, about the mysterious Sixth Year Entertainment Week of twenty years ago.

To be continued

A/N: I hope this wasn’t too boring, and I promise that the next chapter definitely will be funnier and naughtier.

7. A Marauder in the Mist

A/N: As promised, Lily and James will make guest appearances, and the mystery of the show of twenty years ago is explained.

Thanks again for the reviews, and please enjoy this too long delayed chapter.

Chapter 7: A Marauder in the Mist

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall, "it’s time to talk about Harry’s parents, Lily and James, about their best friend, Sirius Black, and finally, about the mysterious Sixth Year Entertainment Week of twenty years ago.

* * *

Professor McGonagall refilled her glass of sherry, took a sip, and was silent. She remained quiet for so long, that the eagerly expectant expressions of Harry and Hermione turned into ones of concern. Finally, she took a deep breath and spoke.

"Harry, there are some things that you must be told about your father’s . . . and Sirius Black’s days at Hogwarts that . . . that are not very pleasant."

"I already know," said Harry.

"No one likes to hear ill spoken of those he . . . er, you say that you know?" said Professor McGonagall.

"I . . . I have reason to believe that both of them, for lack a better term, acted sort of like rich, spoiled brats, at least . . . at least through their first five years, and possibly, they were a touch conceited, as well," Harry said, somewhat reluctantly.

"But, how did you hear such things? Did Professor Dumbledore - " McGonagall asked, but Harry interrupted.

"No, it . . . it wasn’t the Headmaster. It was . . . I did something that . . . that maybe I shouldn’t have done," said Harry.

Sheepishly, Harry related the story of the incident last year during an Occlumency lesson, when he "saw" Professor Snape’s memory of his parents and certain happenings in the pensieve.

Everyone sat in stunned silence. After a while, Professor McGonagall spoke.

"I will not comment as to the propriety of your behavior last year, Harry, but there are many things that I’m sure you were not able to learn from Professor Snape’s memory. While it is true that both your father and Sirius were from well-to-do families, no truly fair-minded person would have described either of them as excessively spoiled."

"At least, neither of them was as spoiled rotten as were and ARE some students from wealthy, pureblood families," Professor Flitwick added, helpfully.

"Indeed," affirmed Professor McGonagall. "Now, as to their ‘conceited’ natures, there is a small measure of truth to that idea. However, I once overheard part of a conversation between James, Sirius, and Lily discussing this very subject. I have no idea where James heard of the original quotation, but he cited an allegedly well known Muggle athlete as saying ‘it ain’t bragging, if you can do it!’ or something similar."

Harry chuckled at this, and was joined by Professor Flitwick. Hermione joined Professor McGonagall in casting disapproving looks at them.

"To put it mildly, both James and Sirius had a lot of talents, about which neither could be accused of being too humble. Both were very intelligent and extraordinarily gifted in magical ability. Unfortunately, both had very wide lazy streaks regarding the application of scholarly rigor to the study of their magical gifts in the classroom. Both of them, along with their mutual good friend Remus Lupin and their little sidekick, Peter Pettigrew, had become a very formidable team by their third year. Everyone in the school, including the oldest bullies in Slytherin House, learned not to cross them."

"There was a single exception, Severus Snape, who simply was consumed with the notion of getting the better of either James Potter or Sirius Black. The truth is that he might have been close to them in intellectual and magical abilities, but he was markedly their inferior in other characteristics. As time went on, and interactions with fellow female students became so much more complicated, young Snape’s feelings of envy and inferiority multiplied, causing him to continue to provoke many of clashes with James or Sirius. Always, he came out second best."

"Both of them became quite good-looking and very self-assured young men, and while Sirius usually was considered to be the more classically handsome, James had a greater abundance of self-confidence, far more than I’ve ever seen in anyone still in his teens. Obviously, both got along all too well with young witches, to the extent that both were, ah, more than a little precocious in the, er, more advanced stages in such relationships," said Professor McGonagall, and she blushed.

"Yes," Professor Flitwick piped up, "by the start of their fifth years, both James and Sirius had become EXTREMELY popular with the ladies, particularly those above them - in years, I mean. That is, they got along so well with sixth and seventh year witches that they caused no end of consternation to arise among their older wizard schoolmates. In short, both James and Sirius pretty much got any girl they wanted, unless both wanted the same one, in which case James got her, or they took turns, or, if the lady in question was exceptionally broadminded and adventurous - "

"AHEM," interjected Professor McGonagall, "Filius! I’m surprised that you would mention those sorts of indiscretions in the presence of - "

"But, Minerva," Professor Flitwick interrupted, "you can’t possibly be as surprised as I was, upon discovering them doing the old you-know-what with that double-jointed Ravenclaw witch inside the bottom part of the loop of one of the highest Quidditch goals!"

"In . . . inside the hoop of the highest Quidditch goal," Harry asked, in mock disbelief, then he gave a sideways leer at Hermione, whose expression seemed to fighting between displaying ghostly fright and very red embarrassment.

"You haven’t heard the punch line, Harry," Said Professor Flitwick. "Minerva and I came to an agreement that the three would receive point deductions and detentions for -get this - engaging in athletic practice at an unauthorized time!"

Everyone got a good laugh at this, though Professor McGonagall’s face was quite flushed.

"Of course, there was the time very early one morning when the Herbology teacher discovered three very naked students, James and a pair of Hufflepuff witches, asleep on top of one of the greenhouses! He had the gall to claim that he and his ‘associates’ merely were testing a new ‘unbreakable’ charm that they had placed on the glass," said Professor Flitwick, and then he continued. "Such was his personal charm, plus the fact that the witches were favorites of the teacher, that he avoided any punishment worse than a few nights of detention . . . cleaning the greenhouses . . . WITH the two young witches! Minerva, you do remember the ‘hammock incident,’ don’t you?"

"Filius, I don’t think - " Professor McGonagall began, blushing, but Flitwick interrupted.

"Come now, Minerva, it’s a perfect illustration of his athletic ability!" said the professor, and turning to Harry and Hermione, he said, "someone had hug up a hammock at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. James and his inner circle had taken to hanging out near it, and late one Saturday afternoon, he visited it in the company of an attractive young Ravenclaw witch, from my own house. When she failed to turn up for dinner, I went in search for her. Now, for many people, a hammock can be a bit tricky both to get in initially and to stay in. However, James’s sense of balance and personal strength were such that he could, er, do something considerably more demanding, and he and she were doing it WHILE STANDING UP in the hammock!"

Harry burst out laughing, and he finally blurted out, after a sidelong glance at Hermione’s flushed face, "Professor, I don’t suppose that the hammock still is - "

"HARRY JAMES POTTER!" chorused Hermione and Professor McGonagall, both quite red-faced.

"Well, it was just a thought," said Harry, "on the other hand, I do know precisely where some Quidditch goals are located . . . "

Over Hermione’s indignant gasp and Professor Flitwick’s amused chuckle, Professor McGonagall spoke.

"Returning to legitimate matters for discussion in polite company," she said, with a glare at Flitwick and another at Harry, "something happened with James at the end of his fifth year and possibly during the summer holiday. When school began for his sixth year, no longer was he acting quite as full of himself as he had previously. He seemed to spend much more of his spare time both in the library reading and in private contemplation. And, he began to try to spend more time with your future mother, Lily Evans."

"Now, there was a single student at Hogwarts who was at least, if not more than, a match for James and Sirius, but it was not Severus Snape. Rather, it was Lily Evans, who unlike them, also was a model student in the classroom. Of course, she was Muggle-born, but this was of no consequence to her Gryffindor male classmates. When it came to witches, James and Sirius always were quite broadminded," said Professor McGonagall, and she glared at Flitwick, "and you stop smirking, because that was NOT intended as innuendo, you dirty old goat!" She continued.

"Through their fifth year, James and Sirius had been quite happy to have their fun with older female schoolmates. Suddenly, Lily Evans had grown up, so to speak, and while she was not overly endowed physically, in the usual crude pneumatic sort of way, nevertheless, by the end of her fifth year, she had clearly become one of the most beautiful witches in the entire school. Though her personality was such that almost everyone liked her, the combination of her beauty, intellect, and magical ability must have been somewhat intimidating to many young wizards, including, I suspect, even to Sirius Black."

"However, sometime late in his fifth year, to James Potter she became the most desirable young woman who he ever had encountered. He spent the first part of his sixth year using every trick in his arsenal in an attempt to convince Lily ‘to go out’ with him. She flatly refused to consider it for months, causing James, for the very first time in his young life, to experience self-doubt. Truly, he was flabbergasted by her easy refusal to submit to his advances. Never had he encountered any female who had not been seduced quickly and easily by his charms. Matters came to a head just before the winter holiday break. From my own conversations with Lily and others, here is what happened."

* * * * *

Twenty Years Ago . . .

The conversation had not gone well, and a large part of the problem had been due to unwanted "help" from Sirius Black, who had been within earshot when James Potter had made the mistake of attempting to engage Lily Evans yet again in a genuinely serious conversation about their "getting together."

Rather than dismissing the idea out of hand immediately, usually with a clever smart-arsed remark, as she always had in the past, Lily seemed actually to be considering the idea, when his smart aleck friend had decided to offer "assistance."

Sirius, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew had approached James and Lily where they were sitting at one end of the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. A single glare from James was enough to cause Remus and Peter to retreat to a discreet distance, but Sirius just laughed and flopped down on the bench next to James.

"Well, Lily, have you yet succumbed to the sincere entreaties of good old Prongs, my very best mate?" he asked, with a wide grin. "What do you say that I scare up some young lovely, and the four us could go on a double date?"

"Oh, really?" Lily replied, "I don’t think so, unless you’ve changed your interpretation of the real meaning of the term, ‘a double date,’ which I doubt very much. In my and normal people’s dictionaries, it is NOT a synonym for an all night orgy!"

"You do both James and me a grave disservice, Lily," said Sirius, "and you’re ignoring the fact that Prongs is a genuinely reformed young man. He thinks of you and only you all the time. In fact, he told me that he’s started to dream about you!"

James just groaned, crossed his arms on the tabletop, and buried his head in them.

"Ha! He may as well keep dreaming, because that’s the only way that he’ll ever get what he really wants from me!" said Lily.

"I’m telling you that James HAS changed," said Sirius, "if fact, only this morning, when we first awoke, he told me that he had a wonderful dream about you just last night!"

"Did he?" Lily asked, with a small smile.

"Nope!" Sirius replied quickly, "He said you wouldn’t let him! BUT, he does have very high hopes for tonight!"

Lily glared at them, and as she stood up to leave, she said, "James Potter, IF you sincerely want to continue a REAL conversation, meet me in the common room tonight, around ten or so. Right now, I’m going to the library."

James looked up, hope evident in his expression.

"BUT," Lily continued, "before anything EVER will happen between us, you WILL continue to make progress in cleaning up your behavior toward witches."

"But, Lily - " James tried to speak, but Lily continued.

"AND," she said, "you WILL understand and accept one basic truth regarding relationships. There is a lot more to a man and a woman ‘getting together’ than the crude, literal, physical meaning of the words obviously shared by you and Mr. Black!"

James groaned, but Sirius laughed, and said, "really, Lily? I kind of LIKE my idea of ‘getting together’ - so far, it’s been both educational and great fun!"

"Well, then, why don’t the two of you find a couple of your usual loose tramps and go and have fun!" Lily exclaimed.

"Now, I’d be careful there," rejoined Sirius, "don’t you think that you’re being a trifle harsh and overly judgmental? I mean, ‘experienced’ or even ‘very experienced’ might be appropriate descriptive modifiers for some of our female acquaintances. But, as to ‘loose,’ well, as the old saying goes, a room is only too big if one lacks enough furniture to fill it! No doubt you’ve heard the rumors about us; I’ve got plenty of ‘furniture,’ and Prongs here has even more!"

Lily blushed at the crude metaphors, but she noticed something of interest. James was NOT laughing at Sirius’s vulgarities! She glared at Sirius one last time, and she left.

Twenty years ago - later that night . . .

Although it was past midnight, James Potter could not sleep due to the turmoil in his mind concerning Lily Evans and his increasingly very powerful feelings for her. Never had he felt this way about any other girl. Nor had he ever experienced from any other girl any significant resistance whenever he indicated to her that he was interested and available.

He had entered the common room a few minutes ago, only to see that Lily wasn’t there. He realized that he forgotten their meeting! He cursed and returned to his dorm and got ready for bed.

He changed his mind and decided that a nice long soak in the huge tub of the Prefects Bath would be just the thing. He put a bathrobe on over his pajamas, stepped into his slippers, and headed out of his dorm room.

It was eerily quiet as he walked the deserted hallways, and he encountered no one, including the school ghosts and even Peeves the Poltergeist.

But, as he turned into the fifth floor corridor of the bathroom, he heard faint, high-pitched voices, including what sounded like laughter. As he approached the door to the Prefects Bath, it became obvious that the sounds were coming from within it!

"Who possibly could be inside? This facility was supposed to be only for student prefects, wasn’t it?" he asked himself. Of course, the fact that the rule excluded his own use of it never had bothered him before. He cursed himself for not having brought the experimental version of the special map that the Marauders were still testing and perfecting.

All students were supposed to be asleep in their rooms, and definitely he did NOT want to barge inside only to be greeted by the sight of nude and bathing female teachers! He hesitated and listened hard.

Then he heard the distinctive and unmistakable titter of Moaning Myrtle, the ghost who was said to frequent the deserted girls’ second floor bathroom. He had gotten a fleeting glimpse of her only once, when he had been in that room, but he would never forget the girlish laughter from her that he had heard that day, particularly since it had been directed at him!

He had been attempting to cope with the manual dexterity required in unfastening the intricate back clasp of a "four-hook" brassiere worn by an extremely well endowed Hufflepuff seventh year, who had been additionally thoughtless in wearing a very tight sweater over it. ‘Ah,’ he thought, ‘those were the carefree, good old days! Why did I have to make things so much more complicated by - admit it, you idiot - by falling in love?’

Without a further thought, he spoke the password, "Loads of Bubbles," hoping that it had not been changed since his last visit. The door swung open, and upon entering the well-lit but misty room, he was greeted with the most extraordinary sight of a completely naked Lily Evans climbing out of the tub and facing him!

"JAMES POTTER! What are you doing here!" she shouted, as she attempted to cover her breasts and pubic region with her hands.

"Uh . . ." James stammered, with both his auditory sense and vocal ability momentarily overwhelmed by the visual stimulus provided by her wet and nude beauty. She looked exactly as she had in his dreams.

"Tee hee," twittered Moaning Myrtle. "Hiya, there! You must be James."

"Is this the young man we’ve been discussing?" asked a sexy contralto voice. "Does he actually do anything besides stand still and stare with his mouth open and his eyes popping from their sockets?"

"Uh . . . " James attempted to speak again.

"Shut up, Aqua," Lily replied, addressing the mermaid in the painting on the back wall. Turning to James, she asked, "well, if you’re satisfied with having gotten your eye tracks all over my body, will you had me that robe on the chair next to you, AND will you tell me what the bloody hell you’re doing here?"

"I . . . I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, Lily," James finally was able to speak intelligibly, "and I came here to take a bath, and I never expected to see your lovely . . . er, YOU, at all."

"He speaks!" exclaimed Aqua the Mermaid. "Let’s see. He’s not too tall or too short, he’s pleasingly slender, he’s quite good looking, AND he’s polite and seems to be honest. Lily, I do believe you might just have a real ‘keeper’ here."

"Oh, give me my bloody robe, James," demanded Lily, with more than a hint of exasperation, as she stepped toward him.

"Here. Take it," said James, who picked up her robe and backed away with a grin, as they both realized that she couldn’t grab it without removing one of her hands. "Lily, whether you believe it or not, I . . . I . . . I LOVE YOU, dammit! I’m sure that we’re destined to get together eventually. SO, since some day I’ll be doing a heck of a lot more than just looking at your undeniably beautiful feminine anatomy, what’s with the shyness?" He turned and winked at Moaning Myrtle and Aqua. "Come on, turn around," he added to Lily.

"Romantic AND a take-charge type too," Aqua purred, "He’s DEFINITELY worth very serious consideration, my dear."

"Kiss my arse!" said Lily.

"I’d love ALMOST nothing more," said James, "I thought you’d never ask." Both Aqua and Myrtle laughed.

Lily got a look of alarm on her face. Her lips quivered, and she seemed to be on a razor edge between either crying hysterically or getting VERY much angrier. Finally, she took a deep breath, stood up straight and dropped her hands to her sides. She hesitated for a few very long seconds, and then said, "Okay, take a good look at my too small boobs," and she turned around slowly, "and my fat thighs and huge rear end." Keeping her back to him, she said, with a sob, "there! Are you happy now? Does it please you to know that what you think you’ll be getting isn’t what you’re used to or what you’d really want?"

James walked up to her and said, "put out your arms."

He helped her into the thick terry cloth robe, spun her around, and closed the robe. He took her hands and placed them across the front of it to hold it shut. He lifted her hanging head, and kissed her on her forehead. Then, he backed away slightly, grabbed her shoulders and shook her.

"SHUT UP, and listen to me!" he yelled, and grasped her head in both of his hands and looked straight into her eyes. "I just told you that I love you, and I do! Some day, I’ll be getting EXACTLY who AND what I want, the most beautiful young woman that I’ve ever known or ever would want to know. Neither are your breasts are too small, nor are your thighs and butt too big. They’re not ‘too’ ANYTHING except possibly too BEAUTIFUL for mere words to describe! They’re absolutely gorgeous now, and they’ll be just as great ten, twenty, and thirty years from now."

"One last thing," James continued, "I would never do anything to hurt you in any way. If I’ve offended or hurt you tonight, then truly I am sorry, I’ll do anything to prove it, and I ask for your forgiveness. I love you, Lily Evans, more than anything, and I’ll always love you." He hesitated, and then he added, "I know that due to my past behavior with witches, I’m pulling an entire train of baggage behind me. I don’t expect you to accept immediately everything that I’m saying, or even to believe any of it. I know that it’ll take time, and I will wait for however long it takes. That said, I DON’T apologize either for staring at or for admiring your body!"

To the applause of Aqua and Moaning Myrtle, James embraced her firmly, tilted her head, and kissed her quickly. He released her, and stepped back. For possibly the first time in her life, Lily was speechless.

"Forgive him, you idiot!" yelled Aqua, "do you have any idea what a lucky girl you are?"

"That was great, James!" exclaimed Moaning Myrtle.

Lily remained standing, utterly silent. She lifted both of her hands to the sides of her head, inadvertently allowing her robe to open.

"Well, if matters are settled," said James, I’ll ask you ladies to leave me, so that I can finally take my bath," he turned to Lily, with a leer, "unless, you'd prefer to stay and scrub my back . . . or something else." Then he grinned, and added, "by the way, your robe has slipped open."

Lily quickly pulled her robe closed again. Her first impulse was to run quickly away, but then she had a thought, and a mischievous smile crossed her face. Amazingly, the same thought occurred simultaneously to Aqua and Myrtle.

"Turnabout ALWAYS is fair play," intoned Aqua.

"What’s good for the goose . . . " said Myrtle.

"You did say that you’re sorry, and that you’ll do ANYTHING to prove it, James?" asked Lily in an innocent tone of voice.

"Uh . . . yes, of course," answered James, clearly puzzled.

"That’s wonderful!" exclaimed Lily. "In that case, we ladies will NOT be leaving just yet! Do you not agree that it’s only fair that I TOO should get a preview of what I’LL be getting in the future, IF at some as yet undetermined date we’re to be together?"

"Er, ah . . . " was all that came out James’s mouth, as he blushed.

"That’s telling him, girl!" said Aqua, and she added to James, "come on, cutie, you heard the woman. Get that robe and those pajamas off right now!"

"Yes!" said Myrtle, "I want to see if what they say about boys with such big hands and feet and who are great Quidditch players is true."

James blushed even brighter red, and he said, "Uh . . . are you sure about this, Lily?"

"Oh, yes indeed," said Lily, and added teasingly. "It can’t be possible that the brilliant and always self-confident James Potter is SCARED to show us what his fanny or his ‘little wand’ looks like, can it?"

"Okay, you’ve got me fair and square," said James with a grin, as he removed his robe. He took off his pajama top, and was greeted with whistles from the ladies.

"Nice chest, great washboard below it, and he’s got quite a bit more muscle on those arms and shoulders than I thought," said Aqua.

"Tee hee," giggled Myrtle.

"Pretty good . . . SO FAR," said Lily, and she added, "now, turn around so we can get a good look at your bum when you drop your bottoms."

James complied, and he loosened, dropped, and stepped out of his pajama bottoms, to be greeted with even louder expressions of appreciation.

"A GREAT tight arse," yelled Aqua.

"Tee hee, tee hee," giggled Myrtle.

"Even better . . . SO FAR," said Lily. "Now, raise your arms and put your hands behind your head, so that you don’t block the view. Good, now turn around slowly, and let me have a preview of what sort of ‘Little Jimmy’ I might be getting! I hope that he isn’t scared and trying to hide."

James turned around, faced them, and after several seconds of shocked silence from the three as they gazed at what was hanging between his legs, he was greeted by an interesting sight.

Three lower jaws, one of flesh and bone, another of enchanted paint and the last of ghostly protoplasm, all dropped. Three similar pairs of eyes almost popped out of their heads. For possibly only the second time in her life, Lily Evans again was struck speechless.

Surprisingly, Moaning Myrtle was the first to recover from the sight. "Tee hee, I’d say that ‘Little Jimmy’ isn’t very little, is he?"

"You lucky, lucky, lucky, girl!" Aqua exclaimed. "You’ve got a handsome guy with a great body, who’s considerate, polite, honest, romantic, who obviously loves you, AND who’s hung like a centaur! If ever you should become so deranged as to let him go, PLEASE have the decency to have him painted into my picture!"

"If he ever cheats on you, Lily, promise that you’ll bring him to my bathroom before you kill him," said Myrtle.

"Well?" asked James of Lily. "Do I have your Ladyship’s permission to lower my hands and to take my bath? Or, are YOU still not finished with getting YOUR eye tracks on one particular part of MY body?"

Lily continued to stare at his penis as if she were in a trance.

"Give her some time, young man. There is so very much of it to look at!" interjected Aqua.

Finally, Lily blushed even darker than she had before, gave a gasp, ran to the door, and left the room.

James shook his head and then entered the huge, pool-sized tub.

"I should be leaving too," said Moaning Myrtle. "Goodbye Aqua, and goodbye to you too, James."

And with a whoosh, Myrtle vanished into one of the many water spigots that lined one side of huge tub. James made his way through the water to the side nearest the door, opposite the water taps and Aqua the Mermaid’s picture.

"How come you've never said anything when I've been here before?" asked James.

"You seemed to be a bit preoccupied at the time, and besides, I never speak to anyone the first time I see them," Aqua said. "By the way, there’s something really important that you should know about that beautiful young girlfriend of yours."

"She’s not my girlfriend or anything else, yet," said James.

"Surely, you realize that she will be, eventually," replied Aqua.

"I hope so," said James, "but, as I said, I suspect that it will take some time before she will believe that I really do love her, and no longer am I interested in anyone else."

"I suspect that she does know it, but you really hurt her, you know," said Aqua.

"Hurt her? How? I mean, I know I’ve been a bit of a arsehole, insofar as shagging practically every other witch in the school, but I’ve never seriously tried to hit on Lily, at all . . . at least until this year!"

"And, just how do you think Lily felt about your behavior, when secretly, she’s had a thing for you since the beginning of last year?" asked Aqua.

"But . . . shit, I’ve GOT to talk to her," said James, getting out of the pool.

"No, you do NOT!" said Aqua, quite forcefully. "You’ve got to do exactly what you said earlier - give her time, and she’ll come around. Unless I’m mistaken, as of a few minutes ago, she’s become even more confused about her feelings. You mustn’t do anything that might seem like pressure of any sort, or you’ll lose each other."

"But - " said James.

"But, NOTHING!" exclaimed Aqua. "Let her be, for a while, and show her by your actions that you have become a genuinely decent person. How long this will take, I do not know, but it’s the ONLY way that will win her heart and her mind."

"I suppose . . . I KNOW that you are right, Aqua," James admitted.

He laughed, and then he toweled himself off and put on his pajamas and robe.

"Thanks for the advice, Aqua, but I’ve got to be going. It’s been good to meet and to talk with you, and maybe the next time you see me, I’ll be coming here for a bath WITH Lily," he said, and he left the room and headed back to Gryffindor Tower.

* * * * *

Professor McGonagall continued her narrative. "Alas, James and Lily would have to wait many months before things finally were resolved. James made the mistake of telling Sirius about his encounter with Lily, and with no intent of causing harm, Sirius relayed an abbreviated version to Remus and Peter, in order to make clear that all three of his friends simply must give James enough space to work out his situation. Unfortunately, Severus Snape overheard this conversation, and very shortly, a malicious rumor concerning Lily and James began to circulate."

"In her then fragile and confused state of mind, Lily jumped to the erroneous conclusion that James had been making up stories to feed his ego at her expense, and she plotted revenge. Somehow, she managed to cast a delayed shrinking charm on the inside front of his boxer shorts, voice activated by anyone speaking her name aloud, and affecting the, er, contents of the shorts."

"When the charm was activated, and James realized what had happened, in a blind panic he ran to the hospital, confronted the then fairly new school medi-witch, by the name of Poppy Pomfrey, and he described his, er, ‘shrinkage’ problem. After viewing the allegedly reduced appendage, she informed him that it looked perfectly normal to her. Still in a panic, James insisted that something damn well was VERY wrong. So, Madame Pomfrey performed a simple ‘finite,’ forgotten by James in his panic, which then restored his problem to its, er, normal dimensions."

Professor Flitwick cut in, "yes, it’s said that the good nurse had a smile on her face and a faraway look in her eyes for a week afterwards!"

Professor McGonagall glared at Flitwick yet again, and she continued. "James was NOT happy, to say the least. His mood did not improve, when for the next week whenever Lily’s name was spoken, he found himself having to point his wand at his groin area and mumble Latin to end the spell. Needless to say, he assumed that Sirius had started the rumor, and when he swore otherwise, reluctantly he came to the wrong conclusion that Lily was responsible, because she was holding a grudge about the original incident in the Prefects Bath.

"Anyway, James got even by somehow getting his hands on Lily’s knickers. Possibly, he bribed a house-elf or sweet-talked one of Lily’s dorm-mates. He charmed them on their rear inside parts to cause the feeling of a poke in her nether region, whenever James’s name was mentioned aloud in Lily’s presence. Of course, this only worked for a single day, as Lily had the sense to investigate all of her undergarments and to deactivate any and all latent charms on them."

McGonagall refilled her glass again, took a sip from it, and continued.

"Now, we come to the Sixth Year Entertainment Week of twenty years ago. Obviously, Lily had discovered the past tradition by reading about it in one of your favorite books, Hermione. Somehow, she managed to maneuver all four houses into cooperating, and in due course, the sixth year Gryffindors met to consider what they should do. A variety show was their decision, mainly consisting of performances of songs. But, unlike this year’s, theirs would end with a dramatization of the one of the great achievements of English Muggle Literature, or at least it was so claimed to be by Lily Evans, with the connivance of a certain dirty old wizard, who shall remain nameless!" said McGonagall, with yet another glare for Flitwick.

"The work in question was The Miller’s Tale, a chapter from The Canterbury Tales, by Geoffrey Chaucer, written in the late fourteenth century, and in Middle English. Miss Evans promised to do a modern translation of it, for my approval of its use in the show, and foolishly, I trusted her taste and judgment," said McGonagall.

Harry began to chuckle, and his chuckles turned into loud giggles, and then into very loud laughter. Finally, he settled down and spoke. "You don’t have to tell me what happened. Clearly, my Mum played the part of Alison, the carpenter’s wife, and she steered Sirius and my Dad into the roles of Absolon, her would be lover, and Nicholas, the student and her actual lover. The only question is who performed which role . . . I bet that my Dad played Nicholas and Sirius did Absolon. Probably, she had Remus play the carpenter, and Peter was the blacksmith. How close am I?" Harry asked.

With a look of total astonishment, at first, all McGonagall could do was to nod her head in the affirmative. Hermione also looked at Harry with a look not dissimilar from McGonagall’s. Flitwick just grinned. McGonagall found her voice and spoke.

"How . . . how could you possibly have known, Harry? Did Sirius or Remus ever mention - "

"Nobody ever told me anything concerning it," said Harry, "but, I do know more than just a bit about The Miller’s Tale and Chaucer. Remember that I’ve had lots of time to fill during my summer holidays, and reading my Aunt’s old school texts has been one way of doing so. Here, I’ll prove it. This is near the end, after Alison has tricked Absolon into kissing her bare bum, and he returns for revenge, armed with a red hot poker, borrowed from the blacksmith’s forge." With that, Harry began to recite, in a sing song voice:

And wente unto the capenteres wal:

He cougheth first and knokketh therwithal

Upon the windowe, right as he dide er.
This Alison answerde, "Who is ther
That knokketh so? I warante it a thief."
"Why, nay," quod he, "God woot, my sweete lief,
I am thyn Absolon, my dereling.
Of gold," quod he, "I have thee brought a ring -
My moder yaf it me, so God me save;
Ful fin it is, and therto wel ygrave.
This wol I yiven thee if thou me kisse."
This Nicholas was risen for to pisse,
And thoughte he wolde amenden al the jape:
He sholde kisse his ers er that he scape.
And up the windowe dide he hastily,
And out his ers he putteth prively,
Over the buttok, to the haunche-boon.
And therwith spak this clerk, this Absolon,

Harry paused, looked at Hermione and Professor McGonagall. Both simply were staring at him, disbelief etched upon their faces.

However, Professor Flitwick was quite animated. He chuckled, and said, "please don’t stop there, Mr. Potter, you’re getting to the funniest . . . PART, if you’ll excuse my choice of that particular word!"

Harry grinned at him, and he continued:

"Speek, sweete brid, I noot nought wher thou art."
This Nicholas anoon leet flee a fart,
As greet as it hadde been a thonder-dent,
That with the strook he was almost yblent,
And he was redy with his iren hoot,
And Nicholas amidde the ers he smoot:
Of gooth the skin an hande-brede aboute;
The hote cultour brende so his toute
That for the smert he wende for to die;
As he were wood, for wo he gan to crye,
"Help! Water! Water! Help, for Goddes herte!"
This carpenter out of his slomber sterte,

And herde oon crryen "Water!" as he were wood,

And thoughte, "Allas, now cometh Noweles flood!"

Again, Harry paused and glanced at Hermione and Professor McGonagall, only to realize that he might as well have been looking at a non-magical oil painting. Both still stared at him, unmoving, with their mouths open in astonishment.

Before either of the two ladies could recover and speak, Harry skipped to the closing lines:

And every wight gan laughen at this strif.

Thus swived was the carpenteres wif

For al his keeping and his jalousye,

And Absolon hath kist hir nether ye,

And Nichlos is scalded in the toute:

This tale is doon, and God save al the route!

"Bravo, bravo, Mr. Potter!" Professor Flitwick exclaimed, clapping his hands, and he added, "that was excellent, and you’ve done more than just passably well with the pronunciation, which is saying quite a lot, since Middle English hasn’t been spoken in five centuries! Of course, you still have no idea how Lily unbelievably improved on Chaucer’s original AND personalized it so brilliantly."

The small professor took over narration of the story.

"Needless to say, she did not permit Sirius, as Absolon, to kiss her actually bare bottom. She wore flesh-colored knickers, but the effect on James was the same. He did not like it one bit! Equally obviously, she insisted that James, as Nichloas, wear flesh-colored briefs, when he stuck his ‘bare’ bum out the window, hopefully to be kissed by Sirius. The fart in Sirius’s face was to be a skillful sound effect, but Lily did NOT tell either lad that she had made some changes from the rehearsal script."

"First, she had charmed James’s briefs so that they would disappear when they were touched by a secret replacement for Sirius’s red hot poker prop, originally a painted piece of wood. With the help of Peter, it was swapped for a transfigured icicle, also charmed both to maintain and to hide its bitterly cold temperature, but only until it made contact with James’s briefs."

"Finally, a third change was made, ‘to set the mood and to encourage believable acting,’ as Lily confirmed to me later. When James broke wind in Sirius’s face, he involuntarily actually emitted the real thing, a genuine rotten egg smelling blast, thanks to an offstage Remus Lupin performing an esoteric pranking charm on James’s body! Obviously, Sirius was surprised, and he did not like what he was certain that James had done intentionally! So, Sirius nailed his bum with the poker a bit more vigorously than during rehearsals, holding the instantly now bitter cold icicle against James’s now very bare behind for a longer than usual period of time. Suddenly James felt something entirely different from that during rehearsals, and he felt it on his bare arse!"

"Equally suddenly, he forgot all of his written lines, and he began to howl like the proverbial banshee. This was not without some justification, since due to simple Muggle physics, the interaction of a perspiring bare bottom and a bitterly cold icicle resulted in a temporary freezing of the icicle to the bum. Sirius released it, as if it really was red hot. Psychologically unable to accept what his senses were reporting to his mind, James undoubtedly misinterpreted the intense cold as its opposite. With his trousers having been pulled down to his ankles, he proceeded to imitate the movement of a clumsy frog, stumbling all over the stage, screaming the whole time."

"Lily, Remus, and Peter literally were rolling on the floor, laughing uncontrollably at James’s predicament. Shortly, Sirius joined in their merriment, as he realized what had happened. For possibly the only time in his years at Hogwarts, both during his student days and his later ones as a teacher, Severus Snape actually had a real smile on his face! Finally, and mercifully, someone had the presence of mind to ring down the curtain."

Harry and Hermione both were laughing perhaps as hard as his Mum and the others had done twenty years ago. Professor McGonagall bravely had attempted to keep a serious expression, but it didn’t last, and she joined in their laughter.

"That’s pretty much it," said Flitwick. "Lily and James didn’t speak for a while, and both of them were busy many evenings serving the detentions decreed by their Head of House, who was not amused at their idea of an appropriate entertainment. And, the Sixth Year Entertainment Week faded into memory once again." He glanced at McGonagall, who ended the discussion.

"The good news is that eventually both Lily and James realized that they really and truly did belong with each other. More importantly, James became able to laugh at himself, finally exorcising his personal demon of an inflated ego. The bad news is that this occurred on the last day of the school year. But, they corresponded daily over the summer, and upon returning for their seventh and final year, they were very much together," said Professor McGonagall. "Oh, my goodness, it is getting quite late. There are classes tomorrow, and you two must get some sleep."

Harry and Hermione stood up and prepared to leave, but Harry asked one last question of Professor Flitwick.

"Professor, the book that I read about Chaucer said that the two oldest surviving manuscripts of The Canterbury Tales probably were written by the same early fifteenth century scribe. One is more profusely illustrated, or illuminated, as they called it, and it’s at some museum in California, in the United States. The other is in the National Library of Wales, in a town with an unpronounceable name."

"It’s called Aberystwyth, and you were struck by the manuscript’s name, were you not, Harry?" asked the professor.

"Uh, yes," said Harry, "I mean, ‘Hengwrt’ did seem to be awfully close to . . . to the name of our school!"

"Well, it should have been spelled properly, but you mustn’t blame the scribes of those days. After all, many of them were only semi-literate, and that was in Latin. Remember that the English language still was in its infancy insofar as its being written. There was a huge and growing demand for books at the time of Chaucer’s death in 1400, but the printing press hadn’t been invented, and it wouldn’t arrive in Britain for three-quarters of a century. Remember also that some scriptoria operated in a peculiar manner, wherein a scribe didn’t even see what he allegedly was copying! Someone would read an existing manuscript, whilst several others wrote down what they heard. This was the only way to increase production rates of books when only a single existing one was available."

"Are you saying that its correct name IS ‘Hogwarts,’ professor?" Harry asked, his voice shaking.

"Of course, it is!" said Professor Flitwick. "I should know, since I’m the original owner of the manuscript that was being copied, and the anonymous donor of that copy to the Welsh library!"

Harry and Hermione stared at the professor, trying to digest the information they had received.

"Minerva is correct, and you two should be off to bed. I’m getting rather tired myself," said Flitwick, and then he smiled at them and as if reading their minds, he added, "I’m not as young as I was, and I haven’t been for a very long time."

Hermione spoke, "I . . . I don’t care how old you may be, Professor Flitwick. You and Professor McGonagall are the best teachers here by far, and I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for us, including this evening."

"Yes, me too," Harry added hastily, as Hermione walked over to McGonagall, and embraced her. She turned to Flitwick, gave him a quick hug, and then bent over to kiss him on the cheek.

As the two students walked out the door, they heard the voices of Flitwick and McGonagall.

"Minnie, my dear, a famous Muggle once said that a man is only as old as the woman he’s feeling."

"Really?" answered McGonagall, "and just who were you feeling like feeling tonight?"

To be continued

A/N: The lines from The Miller’s Tale quoted by Harry are from Chaucer’s Poetry: An Anthology for the Modern Reader, edited by E. T. Donaldson. While based on the text of the Hengwrt Manuscript, the spelling and punctuation are altered for consistency, and also in the interest of preserving reasonably accurate pronunciation of Middle English. The story will conclude in the next chapter, wherein Harry and Hermione reflect on the week following the Gryffindor show.

8. Fallout from the Show & Epilogue

A/N: Here's the final chapter, in which Harry and Hermione reflect on the effects of the Sixth Week Entertainment shows, with particular attention on the personal fallout for Draco and Professor Snape. Plus, things will end with actual NC17 sex! The usual warnings are given also for humor in very poor taste, including some of a scatological variety, but nevertheless hopefully very funny. A very brief epilogue is included.

Possibly I should have noted this earlier, but obviously this has been and now ends as an AU story, insofar as Book Six is concerned, e. g. Snape still teaches Potions and Fudge is MoM.

If readers have enjoyed this even slightly as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it, then I’ll consider it to have been successful. Thanks again for the wonderful reviews, and please enjoy this final chapter.

Chapter 8: Fallout from the Show

Extraordinary things happened following the Gryffindor Sixth Year Follies, with the first fallout occurring on Friday, the day after the show, and it was more than just a little bizarre.

Caretaker Argus Filch, utterly deaf to the sarcasm dripping from "The Caretaker Song" pastiche of Gilbert and Sullivan, had decided that its singer, Neville Longbottom, was the only student at Hogwarts with an appreciation for the finer points of a subject near and dear to his heart, "Proper School Discipline."

Whenever he spotted Neville, he would approach him with a hideous grin plastered on his face, grasp Neville’s hand, and shake it vigorously, all the while thanking him profusely for his wonderful performance.

All that day, whenever Neville managed to avoid him, Filch would buttonhole any other student unfortunate enough to be near him in the halls, and extol young Longbottom’s genius, musical ability, and generally excellent character. To Neville’s utter mortification, that night at dinner, Draco Malfoy loudly re-christened him "Mrs. Filch." Very soon, he would regret doing so, as he would have to learn to deal with his own seemingly inexplicable "Filch" situation, not to mention considerably greater embarrassment from a different source.

On Friday evening, the day after the final show, Hermione Granger faced a serious dilemma, concerning the fourth year and younger Gryffindors, who had not been permitted to attend the Entertainment Week programs. A large delegation of them braced her in the common room, and they demanded an impromptu encore performance of their house’s show. She was slightly miffed to discover that all they really wanted to see and hear, aside from Neville’s song about Filch, was its second part, the comedy act of Ron and Harry, plus the Judge and the Dressmakers skit.

At first, she refused, claiming all of it to be unsuitably risqué for their ages. When it was pointed out that practically everyone in the entire school, regardless of year, had been talking about nothing else for the entire day, albeit with garbled secondhand versions of some of the jokes sometimes being related, she went into a huddle with Lavender and Parvati. After all was said and done, including a few choice glares directed at Harry from the three witches, it was decided to go ahead, provided that any younger students who might be offended would leave. Not a single one did.

To a literally packed common room, since most of the fifth and seventh years wanted to see it again, the sixth year class Gryffindors did the second half of the show again, to great laughter and applause from all of their housemates. The lack of the stage lighting, sound, costumes, and props did nothing to diminish the fun and enjoyment experienced by all.

Early the next day, Harry and Hermione decided to do something about Neville’s "Caretaker Filch" situation. They had collaborated in writing the song performed by him, so they came to Neville’s rescue, in the form of transfiguring the original parchment manuscript of it into a large poster, complete with a handsome frame. The three of them paid a visit to Filch’s office, autographed it, and presented it to him, "as a token their esteem for his longtime invaluable contributions to Hogwarts." Also, with a perfectly straight face, Harry apologized to Filch for any problems that he may have caused him over the years, and solemnly, they shook hands.

Just before they left a quite moved and teary-eyed Argus Filch, a genuinely frightful sight to behold, Hermione "accidentally" let slip a rumor that Draco Malfoy was planning massive hallway pranks in the immediate future, including - horrors - dung bombings, among other dastardly violations of school rules.

At a single stroke, they helped Filch to decide neither to continue to accost Neville at every opportunity, nor to add Harry and Hermione to his list of "students-to-thank-publicly-in-the-hallways-over-and-over-whenever-I-see-them." Rather, he shadowed Draco wherever he went for the whole weekend. On Monday, Draco forgot all about the omnipresent caretaker, because he started to receive large amounts of unsolicited owl mail, as did his Head of House, Professor Snape.

It began to arrive during lunch. A beautiful and familiar looking snowy owl unceremoniously dropped a small package in front of Draco and immediately departed. Upon opening it, Draco found himself the proud new owner of a large raw potato and a piece of parchment, on which were written the words, "Put it in the FRONT, Stupid!"

A very red-faced Draco glared in the direction of Harry and Ron, seated in their usual places at the Gryffindor table. Harry couldn’t resist giving Draco a wave of his hand and a large wink, as Ron pointed with both of his forefingers toward his own lap.

The entire Great Hall burst into laughter, as the fifth through seventh years all recalled Harry’s joke about Draco from the Gryffindor Show last Thursday. Quickly, it was retold to those few younger students who had not already heard it secondhand.

Then, another owl arrived, whose package contained a book on enlargement charms. In short order, over two dozen owls delivered to Draco Malfoy an assortment of potatoes and tight swim trunks, most in decidedly weird colors and some of which had the word "front" or "potato" neatly printed or embroidered on them. Also, he got several more charms books and even a bottle with a label proclaiming it to contain penis enlargement pills.

Just as the lunch break was ending, a pair of large Eurasian eagle owls struggled in, carrying between them an entire bushel basket of potatoes.

Professor Snape was subjected to slightly less vocal ridicule by the student body, but only because they couldn’t tell precisely what he had received. While his haul of goodies was less massive than that of Draco’s, his embarrassment was not a bit less.

The seven bottles of hand lotion were visibly obvious, and the students let him know in no uncertain terms that they recalled Harry’s joke about him. But, they didn’t realize that the collection of parchment mail included lifetime memberships in three "Lonely Hearts" clubs, and no less than five mail-order bride catalogs from assorted Eastern European and Asian addresses. Last, but not least, was a finely engraved and colorful gift certificate denominated as "Good For One Hour, Or However Long You Can Last." This was overprinted by rather jarringly contrasted bold block letters reading, "Ten Seconds." Purportedly, it was good for redemption at a dubious business establishment with the unlikely name of "Madame ‘Le Grande Bum’ Umbridge’s House of Discipline and Therapeutic Full Body Massage."

The next day, Tuesday, saw even greater numbers of deliveries for Malfoy and Snape. In Draco’s case, clearly more of his Muggle-born "fans" were making their feelings known, as a majority of their caring gifts included over a dozen assorted ointments and pills of the "male enhancement" type of Muggle medical quackery. Of course, yet more raw potatoes arrived, but also he received a couple of the classic Muggle toys, "Mr. Potato Head."

Snape’s pile of loot had expanded to include tubes of K-Y Jelly, assorted competing "motion lotions," multiple gift subscriptions to various men’s magazines, including the notorious hardcore transsexual/bondage periodical, Witches in Britches and Their Wizard Bitches, and assorted porn catalogs. He even received a few bottles of shampoo, all of the "for oily hair" variety.

Yet more similar goodies for both Malfoy and Snape arrived on Wednesday, but matters came to a head, figuratively AND literally, on Thursday. A rather surly and tired looking great horned owl, a North American close relative of the larger Eurasian species, delivered a mesh sack of rather suggestively shaped russet potatoes. Draco grabbed the nearest handy object, yet another large enlargement charms book, and threw it at the owl.

The owl’s eyes dilated widely, and it clicked its beak twice, gave an eerily deep hooting sound, and then emitted a higher-pitched shriek. It took flight, and circled once around the high ceiling of the Great Hall. It dove at Draco at high speed, pulled up at the last second, and ejected its own very personal "gift" smack onto the middle of Draco’s forehead.

The massive dropping hit with such force that it covered his forehead, and much of it dribbled down into his eyes, nose and mouth. Significant excess bits splattered onto the face of an unfortunate Pansy Parkinson, who had just turned to look at Draco in order to say something.

As the incensed owl flew off, Ron Weasley, delirious with laughter, mumbled something about having to go to the owlery to send a message to his brothers, and he left quickly.

The next day, Friday, in addition to still more tokens of admiration from the students, Draco and Snape each received a very special piece of "mail." Two very large owls entered the Great Hall, flew around it several times, and then they separated. Of note was that neither of them carried a package or a parchment envelope. Simultaneously, one dove at Malfoy and the other at Snape. Each cut loose exceptionally large globules of bird dirt at its recipient. Snape’s owled scored a bulls-eye, hitting him dead center on his nose, admittedly a somewhat easy target, given its size. At the last second, Draco tried to dodge, but he was only partially successful. His owl’s "present" landed on the side of his head, covering and getting into one ear, and its over-splash once again nailed the face of the unfortunate Pansy, who had picked that moment to try to whisper something to Draco in that particular ear. In the future, she would find a seat well away from Malfoy.

* * * * *

Late that night, Harry and Hermione found themselves alone in the Gryffindor common room, cuddled together and facing the large fireplace.

"I love you, Hermione," said Harry. "You do know that, don’t you?"

"Yes, I do," said Hermione, "I love you too, and you told me that just a couple of minutes ago."

"I . . . I just wanted be absolutely certain that you knew," said Harry.

"Harry Potter," said Hermione, "I’ve already forgiven you for those jokes at my expense. What is it with all of this . . . this new ‘romantic Harry,’ whom you’ve become for the last week?"

"Well," said Harry, and with no small amount of reluctance, he related a brief synopsis of his conversation with Professor Flitwick on the evening of the show.

"No way, Potter!" exclaimed Hermione, "give with the DETAILS. I want to know exactly what were his ‘six rules’ . . . and do NOT leave anything out!"

Harry told her, and he was pleasantly surprised to see her nodding in agreement. She did frown slightly at Flitwick’s ‘Rule of Seven’ regarding the guessing of ages and weights, but she didn’t say anything until hearing the last rule, concerning ‘letting her get on top once in a while,’ and Harry’s reply that she seemed to like it that way.

"What!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Well, you do, don’t you?" said Harry, with a grin. "Besides, you haven’t heard the good professor’s response, which was that no man ever should argue with a beautiful woman who knows both what she wants and how she wants to get it! What better description could there be for a formerly bossy, sexless, little know-it-all who’s become a bossy, incredibly sexy, and not so little know-it-all?"

Hermione blushed, and started to say something, but Harry interrupted her with a kiss. Just as he dropped a hand down to cup one of her breasts, a loud noise erupted.

An excited Ron Weasley landed at the bottom of the stairs. He ran to the large bulletin board and affixed to it a good-sized sheet of parchment. He turned and saw the couple on the couch.

"Well, I’m off on my prefect rounds, and I’m well supplied with copies of an important announcement to plaster all over the school," Ron said, flourishing a thick stack of parchment. "Here, take one," he ended as he handed a sheet to Hermione.

Without further ado, Ron exited the room through the entrance hole.

After looking back at Harry, desire plain on her face, Hermione glanced at the sheet. She started to toss it aside, but then she did a double take, and she began to read it more carefully. Harry put his head next to hers and read it also.

* * * * *

Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes ~ Number 93 Diagon Alley

Press Release: For Immediate Distribution

Subject: Why not say it with . . . bird droppings???

Have you ever wished for a means of expressing yourself more forcefully than that of ordinary owl mail or even via a howler? Well, your solution finally is at hand!

Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes, Number 93 Diagon Alley, and coming soon to Hogsmeade, is pleased to announce a brand new and unique method of magical communication!

In proud association with Eeylops Owl Emporium, the old and highly respected experts in everything related to our beloved and hard working avian familiars, we announce the immediate availability of the "WWW Bomber" (magical trademark application pending).

Yes, when a howler just isn’t adequate to convey your true feelings, why not have the mail-bird deliver its own special "message" to the recipient’s face, head, or shoulder? After all, the bird is there, and it must take flight to leave, so why not have it pass directly overhead and lighten its load for the return trip by relieving itself of unneeded waste matter?

The first field trials have occurred already, in the very prank-demanding environment of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, no less, and they made - pardon the expression - quite successful splashes!

To those who offer objections on the grounds of the "off-color" nature of the "WWW Bomber," we answer that very shortly, and for a modest additional fee, it will be possible to send ones that will be VERY colorful!

Through careful monitoring of the bird’s diet, including special potion supplements, and our own magical expertise, owl droppings will be available in almost any color, including special combinations. Should you desire that your correspondent receive a pink "Bomber" with chartreuse polka dots, or a red and white striped one, shortly such will be available!

The possibilities are virtually endless, so be on the lookout for news of further developments and refinements. As a hint, just to whet the appetites of those with special requirements, we are researching presently in two areas of interest.

First, when a single "Bomber" isn’t enough, how about an entire fleet?

Second, we are studying the use of other avian species, potentially for use as "Weapons of Mass Droppings" (WMDs). Someday soon, in partnership with overseas associates, we hope to offer much larger and longer range "Bombers" using birds such as Old and New World vultures, pelicans, albatrosses, and marabou storks. An attractive bonus from some of the large vulturine species is their capability of uncannily accurate projectile regurgitation. The fragrance of such is said be vastly worse than that of their droppings and more than capable both of emptying a large crowded room in seconds and of keeping it uninhabitable for weeks!

"BOMBER" SPECIAL INTRODUCTORY OFFER!

As a special introductory offer, we’ll give a 10% discount to the first ten purchasers of a "Bomber" addressed either to the home or to the personal office of Mr. Cornelius Fudge, the undistinguished Minister of Magic!

WWW CONTINUING SPECIAL OF THE MONTH!

Hogwarts students of all years, remember to ask for an additional discount, should you intend to use one of our famous "Skiving Snackboxes" (mtm) to escape from a Potions class of any level!

As always, we remain your devoted suppliers of all things magically humorous, and vice versa, and we remind one and all that that we offer discounts both for quantity purchases and to currently enrolled student witches and wizards.

F. & G. Weasley, Proprietors

* * * * *

"What do those two prats think that they’re doing!" Hermione exploded.

"Well," said Harry, "I believe that we witnessed the ‘field trials’ this afternoon. It seems that Fred and George made very quick work of the information that Ron obviously owled to them only yesterday."

"I think that they’re going to get into trouble," Hermione said.

"So what?" said Harry, "besides, I believe that maybe you’re just a little miffed that you didn’t think of it first!"

"ME, upset over not thinking first of one of Fred and George’s childish pranks?" said Hermione.

"Well, you do take pride in coming up with lots of ideas, do you not?" said Harry,

"That’s true, but MINE are both creative AND worthwhile," replied Hermione, "for example, consider the show. You did enjoy yourself, Harry, didn’t you."

"Certainly, it was great fun," said Harry, "and its aftermath, especially for Malfoy and Snape, has been even better. And, who can deny how worthwhile it’s been to see those two gits at the receiving end of so many students, for a change!"

"Yes," said Hermione, "if he wasn’t such a thorough-going, bigoted, and vicious little shit, I’d almost feel sorry for Draco. He must have enough potatoes by now to stock a fair sized fish & chips restaurant for a month!"

"I think it’s great!" said Harry. He hesitated, and then he continued, "did you hear that even the Slytherins are starting to tell jokes about him, and about Snape?"

"Really?" said Hermione.

"Yep," said Harry. "There’s a modestly funny riddle that goes, ‘why does Professor Snape get frightened whenever he has sex?’ - you haven’t heard it yet, have you?"

"No," said Hermione.

"The answer is, ‘because it’s dark, and he’s all alone!’"

Hermione giggled.

"There’s a better joke about Malfoy," said Harry. "A small first year Slytherin wizard comes into their common room all excited. He says to his classmates that he’s just seen Draco Malfoy get out of the shower in the Quidditch locker room, completely naked! He asked Draco what was the proper name for what he and all other boys had between their legs. Malfoy told him that its proper name was ‘a penis,’ but he wanted the youngster to understand that his ‘Little Draco’ was NOT just any common, ordinary penis; rather, it was ‘a PERFECT penis!’ One of his fellow first years seemed not to believe his classmate, and he asked him if what he said really was true. The first lad insisted that it was, and what’s more, that if HIS OWN penis was only three inches shorter, then it would be ‘perfect,’ too!"

Hermione blushed, but she couldn’t help but to laugh. "Uh, Harry," she said, with some hesitation, "I . . . I heard a ‘Malfoy joke’ also, and it’s supposed to be true!"

"Well," said Harry, "are you going to tell it to me?"

"I don’t know . . . it’s not very nice, but it is . . . it’s slightly funny."

"WELL?" said Harry.

"Okay," said Hermione. "It . . . it was a conversation between Pansy and Millicent Bulstrode, overheard by Luna Lovegood."

Harry rolled his eyes, but he indicated that Hermione should continue.

"Supposedly, Pansy said that Draco asked her to come into a broom closet with him, and not to worry, because it would only take a minute . . . and it did!" said Hermione.

Harry laughed, and added, "I wonder if that one minute included the foreplay?"

Hermione giggled, and said, "I suspect that Draco’s idea of adequate foreplay is to say, ‘take off those clothes, bitch!’ or something similar."

Harry yelled, "ATTENTION! ATTENTION! Hermione Granger just made up and told a dirty joke! Either she’s ill, or perhaps the world is about to come to an end!"

"Hey!" exclaimed Hermione, "that’s not very nice. After all, I was the person who gave Ron and you the go ahead to tell your very naughty jokes in the show!"

"And a more brilliant idea or sounder judgment you’ve rarely had," said Harry. "Of course, I’ve always admitted that your ideas USUALLY are pretty good."

"Just WHAT do you mean by ‘USUALLY,’ Mr. Potter?" Hermione demanded.

Harry looked at her, and she glared back at him. He gave a resigned sigh, and he started to unfasten the front of his trousers.

"HARRY POTTER!" Hermione exclaimed, "what in bloody hell do you think you’re doing?"

"Well, the last time a rather long and complicated conversation began with a very similar question from you, it ended rather nicely," said Harry, with a wide grin. "If it’s all the same, why don’t we skip the tedious argument, and get right to the oral sex!"

Hermione’s mouth opened and closed. Then, she smiled, but only briefly, before a frown returned.

"Don’t you DARE to take that out! What if some other person came into the room?" Hermione said.

"Well," said Harry, "if it’s a wizard, he’ll just have to wait until you’re finished with me! If it’s a witch, she’ll have to wait until you’re finished with me, and then for a little bit more!"

"HARRY JAMES POTTER!" Hermione exclaimed, "how DARE you - " Hermione started to rant, but her words were cut off by Harry’s mouth.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and she started to push Harry away, but he was having none of it. Hermione gave in, by wrapping her arms around him, and before either of them realized it, she was lying on her back, with Harry atop her.

Finally, they broke off the kiss. Hermione reached down and felt the bulge in Harry’s trousers, and she said, "oh my goodness, you REALLY want to end the argument before it begins! Well, I’ve always been a greater believer in conservation, and something like this," she said, as squeezed his erection, "DEFINITELY should not go to waste. Why don’t we go to your room . . . right now!"

Harry neither needed nor wanted to hear anything else, and despite Hermione’s mild protests, he picked her up and headed for the dorm stairs.

A short time later found them lying on his bed, with the curtains drawn closed around it. Clothing had been removed, if a bit frantically, and Hermione was on her back with Harry on his side next to her. Their mouths were planted firmly together, and Harry’s hand was maneuvering between her legs. He slowly stroked the nerve and blood vessel rich areas of her inner thighs until, without even thinking, she spread them wider apart. Hermione gasped sharply as Harry’s forefinger finally touched her clitoris, first flicking it gently, then rubbing it in a circular motion, and then up and down.

Very quickly, she felt herself begin to moisten, and she gasped again more strongly when he switched to using his thumb on her clit, while inserting first one and then two of his long fingers inside her body. Unerringly, he began a slow massage of her G-spot. She began to whimper softly, and her lower body started to move and then to writhe as she tried to get his finger movements just right. Almost magically, Harry’s hand adjusted, and soon his thumb and fingers were synchronized perfectly both with each other and with Hermione’s lower body movements.

She pulled her lips from his only long enough to gasp, "I think I’m ready."

"You’re right. You only think you are, my love," blurted Harry, and he covered her mouth with his and began thrusting his tongue against hers.

As the writhing of her hips grew more frantic, Harry increased both the speed and the force of his fingers and thumb. Briefly, she got a look of panic in her eyes, and upon seeing the twinkling in his, followed by a wink, she realized that he intended to get her off exclusively with his hand.

But, as she felt herself get ever closer to orgasm, Harry pulled his mouth away, lowered his head, and paused at her breasts only long enough to lick each of her nipples. Then, he moved his head further down her body, dragging his lips along the midline of her torso until his mouth reached her pubic hair.

When he removed his thumb and replaced it with his moist and quickly flicking tongue, the previously wonderful feelings were replaced with indescribably stronger ones. Her moans grew much louder, and as the first wave of her orgasm began, she clenched her fists so tightly that her fingernails almost cut into her palms.

She screamed again and again, as Harry’s fingers and tongue continued their uncannily perfect coordination with the contractions inside her, increasing the quantity and prolonging the length of the waves of pleasure rippling through her lower body. Her orgasm went on and on, in wave after wave of intense pleasure. Harry did not stop until the spasms between her legs ceased, and her loud shouts of ecstasy diminished to soft moans.

He raised his head from between her legs, noting with satisfaction the telltale flush on her chest, neck, and face. He kissed her softly on her lips, her eyes, her forehead, and then he smiled at Hermione’s face, with its wonderful expression that combined wide-eyed amazement with unadulterated joy. Slowly, he withdrew his fingers from within her, provoking a final moan.

"That’s a small ‘thank you’ for being the best friend and lover any man ever could hope for," said Harry.

"Mmmm," was all that Hermione could say.

Harry raised the pair of fingers glistening with her inner juices to his mouth and licked them, and then he laid them against Hermione's lips.

"Very nice. Care for a taste of you, yourself?" he asked.

Hermione grasped his hand, smiled at Harry, and took his fingers into her mouth. She began moving them in and out slowly, licking them with her tongue.

"THAT is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen," exclaimed Harry.

"Somehow, I doubt that, but it’s really sweet of you to say it anyway, Harry," said Hermione, after she pulled his fingers away. "But, isn’t the purpose of this encounter to engage in actual fucking?"

"All in good time, my dear, but we’re still involved in preliminary foreplay, and this is still about my ‘thanking’ you!" said Harry. "I liked so much the bouquet, flavor, and finish of ‘Chateau Granger,’ vintage a few minutes ago, that I intend to have another immediate tasting!"

To Hermione’s amazement, Harry slid back down her body. Then, to her surprise, he proceeded to lick almost every single spot between her legs except for the most obvious one. He put the pair of fingers inside her again, but not quite deeply enough. She realized after several minutes that he was doing this deliberately!

He lifted his head and smiled up at her. "I seem to be having a bit of trouble, Hermione!" he said, with a devilish grin.

"Harry, please!" Hermione sobbed.

"Please what?" Harry asked.

"Please stop this teasing," Hermione whimpered, and she grabbed his head with both hands and tried to direct his tongue to its proper target. At the same time, she began a frantic wriggling of her hips in an attempt to draw his fingers deeper.

Finally, Harry relented, and he returned his fingers and his tongue precisely to where Hermione wanted them. After only a few minutes, he noticed that both her moans and her body movements were increasing, and then she was lost again in waves of joy and pleasure of such intensity that when they ended, her entire body was covered by a pink flush and tiny, jewel-like beads of perspiration.

It took five minutes for Hermione’s heart rate and breathing to return to normal. Finally, she looked at Harry, and saw him mouthing the words, ‘I love you.’ Then, she felt his still hard erection against the outside of her thigh.

Abruptly, she sat up, and said, "now, it’s MY turn ‘to thank you!’ On your back, Potter, and I want NO arguments!"

Harry sighed, but he obeyed her.

Hermione scooted down to the middle of Harry’s body. She took his cock in both hands and gave it a couple of firm squeezes. Harry moaned and began to wriggle his hips.

"Oh, my!" said Hermione, "this does not look good at all! I do believe that if we were to try to engage in good, old fashioned, ordinary shagging, then you wouldn’t last very long, would you?"

Harry moaned something unintelligible, while attempting to thrust his cock through Hermione’s hands.

Her response was to lick its head, as if she were eating an ice cream cone, then to run her tongue up and down its underside, and finally to squeeze its base very firmly, to keep him from ejaculating for as long as possible.

Harry moaned again, and he raised his head up to look down at Hermione.

She gave him an evil little grin, and said, "I’m going to return the favor you did me. I’m going to keep you from coming for so long that you’ll beg me to end the torture!"

She continued her licking and squeezing for what seemed to Harry to be a lifetime. Finally, she spoke.

"Harry, look at me!" Hermione demanded

Harry propped himself up on his elbows, and he looked down, to see Hermione taking as much as she could of his erection into her mouth, still keeping a firm grasp around the base of it.

He moaned very loudly, and he reached a hand toward Hermione’s head, only to have her free hand deliver a rap across his knuckles.

"Harry," she said, after pulling her mouth free, and giving him a wide grin, "you WILL lie back and enjoy this! As you said, I’m the ‘bossy know-it-all,’ and I KNOW what I’m doing! You’ve been a very good boy so far, so now you get your reward!""

With that said, she released the base of his erection from her hand, as her mouth engulfed him again, and she began to move her head rapidly up and down. She flicked her tongue sideways along the underside of Harry’s now throbbing cock, which impossibly seemed to be increasing slightly in girth.

Only seconds away from his orgasm, Harry tried to reached down toward Hermione again, and he attempted to mumble a warning to her. Her eyes, looking upwards, met his, and she started to make a humming sound, which for obvious reasons was somewhat muted. That did it!

No other word but an "eruption" could begin to describe what Harry felt as he began ejaculating. He screamed aloud his pleasure, as spurt after spurt after spurt shot into Hermione’s waiting and greedily swallowing mouth. It was the longest orgasm that Harry remembered ever having.

When finally it was over, he felt totally drained, and he collapsed, nearly unconscious. He felt Hermione moving up the bed, and he opened his eyes to see her lying on her side next to him. As he started to speak, she placed a finger on his lips.

"Hush, Harry," Hermione said, "it’s my turn to say ‘thank you’ for being the sweetest, kindest, most considerate, and wonderful friend and lover any woman ever could hope for!"

"Er, I feel the same," said Harry. "That is, I mean, I feel almost the same, er, I’m not a woman, I mean . . . "

"No, you’re not," Hermione giggled, reaching down and grasping his cock. "Most DEFINITELY, you’re not a . . . oh, my God! It’s already getting . . . "

"Hermione," Harry said, with some hesitation, "if you’re too tired to . . . "

"Are you out of your mind!" said Hermione, "I don’t care if both of us are sore AND tired for a week, we’re going to continue to have fun tonight!"

With that, Hermione straddled Harry, and she began to grind her lower center along his hardening cock. After she felt herself getting wetter, she raised her rear end up, grasped his cock to place its head at her entrance, and plunged down.

"Ooooh, that’s SO good," Hermione said.

"You ought to feel it from my side!" Harry blurted, as he reached up, cupped the sides of her breasts with his hands and began to rub his thumbs across her nipples.

"Harry," said Hermione, with a hesitation evident in her voice, "you . . . you really don’t mind about . . . about . . . about me . . . er, me being on top when we fuck, do you?"

"Hell, NO!" said Harry, continuing to massage her breasts gently, "I . . . actually, I rather enjoy it this way, too . . . and there’s the bonus view!"

"What . . . what are you talking about?" asked Hermione, now clearly puzzled.

"Well, for one thing, your boobs look bigger," said Harry, with a gleam in his eye and a very wide smile.

"WHAT!" exclaimed Hermione, but her voice was cut off, as Harry moved his hands around and pulled her down, crushing their chests and lips together. He broke apart their mouths and spoke.

"I . . . I was JOKING! There’s NOTHING wrong with your breasts, Hermione. They’re quite the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, or ever would want to see," he said.

"Considering that they’re the only ones you’ve REALLY seen - at least they had BETTER be the only ones from now on!" said Hermione. Then, she continued, "you . . . you don’t think that they’re too small?"

"NO! They fit you perfectly," said Harry, and he took one of her hands in his, pulled it up and kissed it. "They’re just like your beautiful and delicate hands, which I adore as well."

"My . . . hands?" said Hermione.

"I said that I love your small hands, Hermione. They’re lovely to look at, AND another wonderful feature of them is that they make my cock look bigger!"

Hermione stared at him for a second, and then she started to laugh. As her laughter continued and increased in magnitude, Harry noticed a most wonderful effect that it was having on her body, particularly on that part in which ‘Little Harry’ presently was deeply embedded. ‘I wonder,’ he thought.

"I KNOW that’s not anything for you EVER to worry about, Harry!" said Hermione, her laughter fading. "Now, why don’t we shut up and get on with it!"

"Okay, but only after I get in one last word," said Harry, "I do know the REAL reason why you prefer to be on top."

"Oh?" said Hermione.

"Indeed," said Harry, "if you’ll forgive an atrocious play on words, it’s because you, better than anyone else, know just how accomplished I, Harry Potter, am at fucking UP!"

Hermione burst out laughing again, and again Harry experienced the effect of it on her lower torso. ‘Hmmm,’ he thought, ‘this does warrant further investigation.’

Hermione’s laughter subsided again, and she spoke, "Harry, you’re terrible! Now, can we shut the hell up and fuck!"

They did. For a while, it was one of those slow, relaxed, almost languid bouts of lovemaking, where lovers try to move as little as is necessary, in order to prolong it as greatly as is possible.

After a while, though, neither could help but to begin to move quicker, and when Hermione pushed herself up into more of a sitting position and began gyrating her hips frantically, Harry reached down both to caress and to help support her bum cheeks. As their climaxes drew ever closer, the previous interesting thought about her laughter insinuated itself once again into Harry’s mind. ‘Well,’ he pondered, ‘it’s worth a try at least once!’

As Hermione’s muscular contractions around his cock signaled the beginning of her orgasm, Harry quickly removed his hands from her bum, placed them along her sides, and he began to tickle her unmercifully!

To say that he got a strong reaction would be the understatement of all time. Hermione’s eyes and mouth flew open, but no sound emerged for several seconds. What did happen immediately was that every muscle in her body began to contract very rapidly and much more powerfully, most especially those in her pelvic region.

Harry became lost in his own unbelievable orgasm, but he couldn’t help but to hear Hermione’s ear-splitting shrieks of pleasure. They were more than loud enough to awaken every living soul in the school, not to mention numerous ghosts and characters in magical paintings.

He hadn’t thought it possible, but he seemed to enter a special state of mind, where time magically slows down.

Finally, Hermione stopped her screaming, and she looked down at Harry with the strangest expression that he had ever seen on a woman’s face. Joy, ecstatic pleasure, and pure sexual bliss were part of it, but paradoxically, so were puzzlement and surprise. And, shining through all of them, there was powerful and unconditional love.

Shortly, puzzlement won out over the others very briefly, and Hermione fainted dead away, collapsing on top of him.

Harry was feeling light-headed and dizzy, but he managed to roll over just enough to allow Hermione’s body to come to rest on her back, without her falling off the side of the bed. He leaned over and kissed her cheek, forehead, and lips. She moaned into his mouth and opened her eyes.

It took a few seconds for them to focus, and she spoke up in a small voice, "what . . . what happened?"

"You fainted, or you did an excellent job of pretending," said Harry. He grinned at her, and added, "I, Harry Potter, just finished screwing you, Hermione, LITERALLY senseless!"

"I . . . WOW!" said Hermione, smiling back at him, "I suspect that it had more to do with an unexpected sensory overload."

"No way!" said Harry, "admit it, Hermione, those words are just a fancy euphemism for saying that you were fucked out of your mind!"

She pushed him hard, forcing him onto his back, and she climbed back on top. "HARRY JAMES POTTER, if you EVER pull that trick on me again, without warning, then . . . "

"Then . . . WHAT?" asked, grinning at her.

"Then . . . what will happen is . . . RETALIATION!" said Hermione, digging both hands into his ribs and tickling him.

Suddenly, she stopped, got a thoughtful frown on her face and said, "Er, Harry, I just remembered something. Did . . . did you cast a silencing charm?"

"Er, ah . . . I thought that you . . . OH, SHIT!" Harry answered.

With very red faces, both of them knelt together near the head of the bed and eased the curtains open just enough to poke out their heads.

They were greeted with loud clapping and whistles from a tried-looking trio of Ron Weasley, Dean Thomas, and Seamus Finnigan, who huddled together briefly. Then all three produced large sheets of parchment, each inscribed with a large numeral "10," as if they were judges revealing scores at an old-style Muggle diving competition.

The blushes deepened on the faces of Harry and Hermione, to Ron’s satisfaction. Unlike Dean and Seamus, from Muggle/mixed family backgrounds, he had not had a clue as to why holding up a simple sheet of parchment with a number on it was supposed to be funny. They had assured him that the two lovebirds would get the joke, and apparently they had.

Neville Longbottom poked his head through his bed curtains, and he gave a start when he saw Hermione in Harry’s bed.

"Uh, hi, Hermione," he said, "are you here to help Harry with his terrible nightmares?"

Everyone burst out in laughter, and Neville shrugged his shoulders and went back to sleep.

Epilogue

The next morning, Harry and Hermione waited for a while before leaving his dorm room, hoping that most of their fellow Gryffindors already had departed for breakfast. They had made good use of the time by showering together in the boys’ dorm washroom. When they entered the common room from the stairs, they were greeted with the smirking faces of Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, and Ginny Weasley.

The girls giggled among themselves, and began to make comments concerning the previous evening’s events in Harry’s room.

"Last night, there sure were a LOT of very loud feminine sounds coming from a certain boys’ dorm room," said Lavender.

"AND some masculine ones, as well!" added Parvati.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other and blushed.

"So, Hermione, when are you going ‘to share the wealth,’ so to speak," asked Lavender.

"Yes, indeed," added Parvati, and then to Harry, she added, "you know, the two of us could show you a VERY good time!"

"I . . . I’m sure you could," said Harry, "but why would I be interested in the ‘very good’ when I already have the ‘perfect?’" Turning to Hermione, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze, and he said, "shall we go to breakfast, Hermione?"

They started to leave, but Hermione turned to the other girls, "do you really want to know what’s most special about Harry? It is NOT his ‘wand,’ or his mouth, or his hands, or any other particular part of him, as wonderful as they are. Rather, it’s his state of mind. At heart, he’s very old-fashioned, a gentleman in the very best sense of the word."

She smiled, turned to the exit, and walked through it as Harry held the door open for her. He turned, winked at the girls, and just before following Hermione out of the common room, he said, "here’s a hint, ladies."

"What on earth was THAT about?" asked Lavender.

"Search me," said Parvati.

"I believe that what Hermione was trying to say, and what Harry just confirmed," said Ginny, with a broad smile, "is that Harry Potter is such a gentleman that with him, a certain special young woman ALWAYS comes first!"

The End

A/N: That’s it, all over and finally done! I hope that the sex scene wasn’t too overwrought. I tried to go right up to, but not quite over, the line between the genuinely erotic, with a touch of humor, and the more mundane, excessively exaggerated trash unfortunately so prevalent everywhere, including in fan writing, thankfully mostly on web-sites other than Portkey.