A Theory on Wands

Disclaimer: The only thing I own from the following fic is the palm tree wand with the magical coconut core.

A/N: I have writer’s block. Yup, of the worst kind. ‘Tis why I am only half-way done with the Draught of Living Death, and why to make up for it I now present you with this shiny new shaglet. Though be warned: Harry is anything but a superhuman sex machine. Though I still love him for it…

The whole premise of what you are about to read comes from the H/Hr thread where I post, the Aurors thread at fanforum.com. We spent a while there completely obsessed with wands, and it resulted in this madness.

Thanks to my Sis for being the best beta ever. THANK YOU SIS!

*****

“Oh…my,” Hermione exclaimed, in that half-moan, half-sigh that Harry absolutely loved to hear coming from her in bed. He lived for that sound; it was the one sound that kept him from giving up on the insane monotony that was life.

She was under him, writhing languidly, every single movement of hers representing the epitome of sensuality. Or so he thought.

Every inch of her was covered in sweat, just the way he liked it. And judging from the look in her eyes, the hands that furiously grasped the sheets, and again, the repetition of that sound, she was ready. Oh yes, she was mighty ready indeed…

This is the homestretch, Harry thought, in that fogged up brain of his. This is where I need to keep my wits about me, make sure that I complete my task to its pleasurable end. This is where I must…

Bloody Hell!

Hermione blinked, eyes wide, and Harry, who was already flushed from the exertion, blushed so red he looked like he was about to explode from the embarrassment.

“Oh…Harry,” Hermione cooed, eyes soft.

Damnit. It was that understanding look. If there was one thing he hated more than her disappointed look, it was her understanding look. Perhaps Phineas Nigellus was right; maybe he did want to be tragically misunderstood…

“Harry…darling…it’s all right. It happens to everyone.”

Harry groaned and hid his face in a pillow, feeling very sheepish and upset. Well, as upset as he could feel in the afterglow of wonderful sex. Well, wonderful sex in his perspective.

“Harry…talk to me,” Hermione pleaded.

Blast her! He didn’t want to talk to her. He wanted to make her scream! Oh well, if he couldn’t do it the old fashioned way…

So without preamble he shot up, threw open her legs, and buried his head between them.

Perhaps this way he could make it all better…

*~*~*~*~*

“Bugger,” Ron said, wincing at his friend’s distress.

It was the morning after Harry’s horrendous nightmare of a bedtime experience, and taking advantage of Hermione’s prolonged shower, Harry decided to regale Ron with the tale of his latest debacle over breakfast. Unfortunately, Ron seemed just as horrified about the whole topic as he was.

“I just couldn’t do it! Couldn’t control myself a moment longer! It was – I just…”

“It’s understandable, mate,” Ron nodded sagaciously. “It happens to everyone.”

“But it’s never happened to me before!” Harry replied hotly. “We’ve been…you know, all of two months now, and never before have I – I’ve always, at least with her…”

Ron whistled. “You’ve been shagging her two months and you’ve managed to ahem…you know, make her…”

“Yeah.”

“Every time?”

“Of course.”

Ron whistled again. “Blimey. If this is what they teach you Aurors, maybe I’ll change professions.”

Harry gave him a withering look.

“Or perhaps she’s been faking it all this time…”

“You’re not helping me Ron…wait…faking it? They can do that?”

Ron nodded sadly. “Afraid so mate. Ginny told me.”

“GINNY?! But when we…I…”

“I know.”

“Bloody hell!” Harry looked so tragically forlorn, that Ron felt pity for the poor boy.

“I’m sorry mate. Told you…it happens to the best of us. More than we would like it too…”

Harry got up and began pacing, running a hand through his hair as he did so. “Ron, I know this might sound crazy, and maybe its all that ridiculous propaganda that’s been said about me, but I’ve begun to…well, I don’t know how to explain-”

“You don’t need to,” Ron said, as he absentmindedly poured sugar into his coffee. “I already know. The thing is, you’ve started to believe all that crap about you being the bloody messiah and all that, quite natural. You were ready to believe you had gone mad after all…”

“Exactly!” Harry exclaimed, looking at his best friend as if he were Sigmund Freud.

“And naturally, you are befuddled,” Ron continued monotonously, “as messiah’s aren’t supposed to have sexual hang-ups.”

“Precisely! I’m a bit baffled; I can defeat Lord Voldemort, but I can’t please my witch. What’s the use of having all this extra magical power if it can’t help me with more useful things...”

Ron grinned roguishly. “Hermione should be glad indeed that Voldemort didn’t fulfill his threat of cutting out your tongue due to your savage impertinence…

“Harry? Impertinent? Never. Mildly insolent perhaps…” Hermione said, interrupting their conversation as she entered the kitchen. Harry gave Ron an alarmed look, but Ron merely shrugged. Had she heard what they were talking about?!

“Coffee?” Harry asked Hermione in a very high-pitched voice, clearly giving away his nervousness. Ron gave him a knowing look.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Hermione replied, sidling up next to Harry and nuzzling his neck with her nose.

Ron decided it was too early in the morning to witness such an obscene display, and consequently buried himself behind his copy of the Daily Prophet.

And so breakfast continued in amicable silence: Ron behind his newspaper, Hermione delicately eating her porridge, and Harry contemplatively brooding his current plight, until finally, Ron broke the silence.

“Look, it says here that people have been trying to break into Gringotts’ vaults.”

“What?” Hermione asked in disbelief.

“Says here that they have not only tried to break in, but have succeeded. The odd part is that nothing has been stolen.”

“I wonder why anyone would want to break into a bank and not steal anything?” Hermione pondered allowed, getting that furrow on her brow that every good little Auror got when presented with a problem that needed solving.

“Testing the security, perhaps…” Harry mumbled distractedly. Who cared about Gringotts when he was BAD IN BED?!

“Do you think you’ll investigate this?” Ron asked excitedly.

Hermione shook her head.

“Not unless the people breaking into the vaults are ex-Death Eaters, neo-Death Eaters, Voldemort wannabes, or Americans,” Harry replied coolly.

Ron grinned, and Hermione slapped his arm playfully.

“What did I say?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “I don’t know about you two, but I’m off to work. Someone in this household has to be the breadwinner…” She gave Ron a pointed look.

Ron looked at her scathingly. “Wonderful, take a jab at a chap when he’s down. Let’s see you try out for Quidditch teams; you wouldn’t last a day, let alone an hour.”

Hermione flipped her hair, and gave Harry a quick kiss good bye--all the while ignoring Ron.

“Hey, don’t I get a kiss?” Ron asked with fake jealousy.

“Ron, you nut-” Hermione began, but was quickly interrupted.

“No, not from you,” Ron said with mock irritation. “From Harry.”

Hermione raised her eyes to the heavens, biting her lower lip to keep from laughing.

“Mate, I love you and all that, but I’m not kissing you.” Harry said, getting up from his seat at the table. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m late for wor-”

But before he could finish his sentence, Ron had grabbed his wrist, pulled him into a great big, manly hug, and given him a noisy, exaggerated, smack on the lips.

“Christ, Ron!” Harry exclaimed, standing himself upright and wiping his lips with his hands.

Hermione’s eyes lighted up in mirth. “I knew it! I bloody well knew it! You two have been having an affair behind my back. How long has this been going on?”

Ron looked down at his fingernails smugly. “Quite a long time actually,” he said with a grin. “When did d’you reckon it started Harry? Fifth year? Sixth year? Can’t well remember…”

Harry gave him an exasperated look. “Ron, get a job.”

“And why was I never invited to join in this affair?” Hermione asked, feigning petulance.

At that question, Harry grinned wickedly, picked her up and slammed her on the tabletop. “Because I’m a jealous man, and can’t stand the thought of any man other than I looking at you naked…” Harry then began a small campaign along her neck that involved the full use of tongue, teeth, and lips…

“Well, too bad for you Harry, I’ve seen her naked,” Ron interrupted, fully intending on causing mischief. “I didn’t want to tell you mate, but it all occurred one night when you were late coming home from work-”

From her perch on the table, Hermione leaned back, picked up her spoon, and stuffed it into Ron’s mouth.

“Nice try,” Harry muttered with a grin.

Ron took the spoon out of his mouth. “Fine, then I shan’t tell you what kind of woman it is you’re dating. Scarlet woman if ever…”

Hermione giggled. “Very well gentlemen, I must go. See you later?”

Both boys gave her a quick wave before she ‘popped’ out.

“I’m going too,” Harry said, stealing Ron’s copy of the Daily Prophet and smacking him over the head with it. “And I’m taking this, with me.”

“Take it,” Ron said, massaging his head and looking at Harry reproachfully. “I’m not job-hunting today. My father is making me go down to Diagon Alley to visit Gred and Forge’s shop.”

“Why?”

“Oh, he’s invented some odd Muggle/Wizard hybrid camera recorder thingie…you know, those thingies that you film stuff with?”

“Yes, I know those thingies you film stuff with,” Harry said, smiling.

“Yeah, he’s created a wizard version of it. Something about a crystal ball…he wants me to go look at it. Says he has it in mind to manufacture them, and sell them to Gringotts as a surveillance type thing. Considering this latest story, I don’t doubt they’d buy some…”

“Hey, you never know. Your father might make a fortune out of this and before you know it, you Weasleys will be living in the lap of luxury.”

“Yeah right,” Ron mumbled. “And I’m Malfoy’s secret lover.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Tell Arthur I wish him luck.”

*~*~*~*~*

“Bollocks!” Harry mumbled to himself, sitting at an isolated table in the Leaky Cauldron, trying to take his mind off of last night by perusing through the Daily Prophet.

Sod it! He thought to himself, this isn’t working. For though this morning - for a while - he had managed to forget about his between-the-sheets inadequacies, the second he had arrived at work the whole, entire, disgusting, episode had seemed to rush before him like a never-ending film. He thought that perhaps by ducking out for a while or two he’d be able to clear his head of the unappetizing images, but alas, as of yet, no such luck.

All right, Harry, he said to himself. Concentrate!

Determined to forget about last night, he ordered himself another Butterbeer, and settled himself into his seat. The Daily Prophet…The Daily Prophet…why aren’t there any good articles in this damn thing?

The only piece that was worth reading was the Gringotts story, but Ron had already told him about it. Then, to his great chagrin, there was an article about he and Hermione, and their “newfound love, which is not at all new, as one can remember when I, Rita Skeeter, predicted the eventual development of their friendship to romance almost six years ago…”

Although that story managed to make Harry forget about last night momentarily, as he was too full of rage to think about anything other than the wonderful sound of Rita Skeeter’s neck breaking between his bare hands, he was all-too-soon reminded of the reason why he was sitting in a dark corner of The Leaky Cauldron, alone, and surrounded by Butterbeer bottles like a common alcoholic.

Bugger. What else is there to read in this repulsive thing? He soon found himself at the “Dear Gigi,” column, which everyone in the Wizarding World knew belonged to one Ginevra Weasley. She was quite good at giving advice to poor, lonely, lovesick, and lost witches, and had become quite popular because of it.

On the page adjacent to hers was the male counterpart, the “Dear GG,” column, which although successful, was less popular. Not that Harry could blame the poor Wizard blokes who had to resort to getting advice from “GG,” the notorious Gregory Goyle.

Despite his obvious abhorrence of said “GG,” Harry was desperate enough that he would read anything to get his mind off of his…ahem…problem. Perhaps reading other wizards’ troubles would make him feel better about his own.

Glancing about the page in the hopes of finding a letter he was mildly interested in, Harry’s eye was caught by a rather flashy advertisement.

“Is your wand malfunctioning?” the advertisement asked him in a very deep announcer’s voice.

“WHAT?” Harry asked, alarmed that a newspaper advertisement would know the reason why he was so distressed.

“Is your wand malfunctioning?” the advertisement asked again.

Harry looked around to see if anyone was watching or listening; was this some elaborate prank that Ron had pulled before giving him the paper?

“Are you going to sit there all day, or what? Is your bloody wand malfunctioning?”

Harry tried to act nonchalant. Damned if he was going to let a talking newspaper rile him up, especially since it was probably one of Ron’s jokes.

“Whose wand? Mine?” Harry asked offhandedly.

“No, the guy sitting next to you. Yes yours! So is it?”

“Is it what?”

“Malfunctioning.”

“Is my what malfunctioning?” Harry asked, his face getting pinker by the second. Damn Ron! He was in for a hexin’ this evening…

“Come on now. I know your wand is malfunctioning.”

“OH DO YOU NOW?!” Harry yelled at the newspaper standing up with a force that knocked his chair over.

Everyone in The Leaky Cauldron turned to look at Harry, which made him feel entirely too sheepish to continue living. Yes, a quick, sudden death ought to do it. Of course, this would only come after giving Ron a long, painful death.

“Won’t you calm yourself down!” The advertisement told him. “I don’t know what you’re thinking about; I’m just advertising Ollivander’s wands.”

Harry sat back down, “Oh,” he said simply.

“Oh?” The advertisement asked him. “After yelling at me that way, all you have to say is ‘Oh.’”

“What do you want me to say?” Harry asked sarcastically. “I’m sorry?”

“No, I don’t care about that rubbish,” the advertisement said. “Just say you’ll go out and buy a new wand. Could really use the income; I have a wife and three kids…”

“But you’re just a newspaper advertisement,” Harry answered skeptically.

“Very true. Can’t blame a bloke for trying though.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “So, fess up. Are you a gag Ron decided to put into my newspaper?”

“Ron? Who’s Ron? And I’m no gag! I’m a bona fide advertisement, placed her by Mr. Ollivander himself. He’s having a sale you know; perhaps it’s high time you replaced that wand of yours. What are you…tweny-one? Twenty-two?

“Twenty,” Harry answered, not at all sure why he didn’t just close the piece of rubbish and throw it away.

“Close enough. Nevertheless, you’re old enough now that you’ve experienced some form of wand malfunctions: the premature leaking of magic, a lack of sustaining arduous magical spells for prolonged periods of time…”

“YES!” Harry cried, impassioned. Then he realized he was talking to a newspaper, and that he should really get some form of control over himself.

“Then dear boy, you should really go peruse Ollivander’s…”

*~*~*~*

Harry was determined to ignore it. The voice. The voice inside his head that eerily enough sounded like the voice of the advertisement, telling him that he was a sexually inadequate fool. That any second now, Hermione would realize that he could never ever appropriately please her, and that she would then run off to Bulgaria; back to Viktor Krum. He could see Viktor’s haughty, laughing face already…

It was due to this voice, more than anything that Harry decided to abstain. This went on for a week—a very long week. Every night was identical: Hermione would approach him, and he would cower in some corner like a blithering idiot. She would begin to kiss him, touch him…and he would soon fall under her expert thrall, only to chicken out right at the last moment.

“Where are you going?” Hermione asked breathlessly on one such night, when she saw that Harry had ceased sucking her right breast, and was instead furtively tying his shoelaces, looking like a guilty adolescent boy who had just been caught groping his girlfriend by her parents.

“I – uh – have some paper work I forgot to do,” he muttered frantically.

“Can’t it wait ‘till tomorrow?” Hermione asked with a pout. “If you stay, I promise I’ll make it worth your while…”

Harry groaned inwardly. Why why why did this have to be happening to him? Hadn’t the world asked enough of him already? Parents dead at age one. Seventeen years under a flight of stairs. COUNTLESS NEAR DEATH EXPERIENCES DUE TO A LUNATIC WIZARD!

And now this?

“You know I’d love to stay,” Harry half lied, “but this is very important.”

“Oh fine,” Hermione conceded. “But you better watch yourself, Potter…”

Harry stopped at the door: was that…Krum laughing?

And so it went for a week, until finally, the voice had driven him sufficiently mad enough that now he was quite convinced that the only way he would ever rid himself of this ghastly flaw was by getting a new wand.

Although how this faulty logic made sense to him made no sense whatsoever. What did that wand have to do with…this wand? Besides the obvious schoolboy innuendo, there really was no connection whatsoever.

It was time to just face the facts: he was clinically insane. There was no other reason to it.

And so with a heavy heart, Harry looked down at his faithful wand, and made the decision to get a new one.

“I’m sorry, mate,” he said morosely, looking down at his wand. “But if there is any slight chance that by getting a new wand, I can fix my…problem, then I have to seize it.”

The wand just lay there, motionless in his hand.

“Don’t look at me like that!” Harry cried dramatically. “I know, I know – we’ve been through so much together. But I love her, and if I must choose one of you, then by Merlin I choose her!”

“Harry...who are you talking to?” Hermione asked. She had just entered their room, a bemused look on her face.

“Hmmm…nobody. Just, you know, talking to myself.”

“Oh,” Hermione replied, and exited quickly.

Harry smacked himself. Christ I’m going bonkers!

*~*~*~*~*

“Well aren’t we in a better mood today,” Ron said as Harry sat down for breakfast.

In fact, Harry did feel quite better than he had for the past couple of days. He looked quite spiffy; he practically glowed with his usual confidence—a confidence that had eluded him for the past week.

“Pray tell, why this sudden change?” Ron asked, taking a sip of his cup of coffee.

At that moment, Hermione entered the kitchen, giving both boys a good morning peck on the cheek.

“I’m quite excited today, actually. I’m going down to Ollivander’s to get a new wand.”

The mug of coffee Hermione had just poured for herself, fell on the tabletop with a loud CLANG! Ron looked up from regular perch behind the morning paper. His eyebrows were raised, which led Harry to suspect that he knew something he shouldn’t know, but Harry dismissed that feeling immediately.

What surprised Harry more than anything else was that their initial reactions were soon replaced by looks of…disapproval?

“What?” Harry asked, clearly confused.

“Harry,” Hermione began, eyes wide. “That wand is a part of you. You cannot possibly even…you shouldn’t even be considering…”

“I know!” Harry snapped. He was mightily miffed at her reaction; he was doing this for her after all.

“Why do you think you need a new wand anyway?” Ron asked civilly.

Harry looked from Ron to Hermione, and back again, temper rising. “What is wrong with you two? What do you mean why? I’m getting a new wand because I want a new wand, and that’s THAT!”

“Harry James, you best calm yourself this instant; we aren’t fifteen anymore.” Hermione pursed her lips, clearly upset.

“I’m sorry,” Harry apologized pathetically, taking Hermione’s hand and kissing it lightly. “It’s just that…I’ve been a little on edge lately…”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Ron said, sarcasm duly noted.

“…and the first thing to put me in better spirits displeases you both, and I don’t know what to do.” Harry continued with sad eyes, ignoring Ron completely.

“Oh darling…” Hermione cooed, wrapping her arms around Harry and snuggling him close. With a note of triumph, Harry stuck his tongue out at Ron behind Hermione’s back. Ron made a sour face in reply; it was his ultimate resentment that Harry always managed to wrap Hermione around his little finger whenever he bloody pleased, whereas all he could manage was to wrap himself around hers.

“If you want, I’ll go down with you to Ollivander’s today,” she offered meekly. She hated seeing Harry sad, or angry, and would do anything to make him happy…even if his happiness entailed a sacrifice from her, no matter how great or small.

“Wonderful,” Harry replied, trying to hide the smugness from his voice. “We’ll go after breakfast.”

*~*~*~*~*

“A new wand eh…” Ollivander looked Harry over with a suspicious glint in his eye. He had already taken Harry’s wand and tested it out to see if there was any problem with it. Apparently, he had found none.

“Why would you want a new wand? This one is perfectly fine.”

“Well…” Harry stammered. Now that he was actually in the store, surrounded by the musty shelves that held an endless supply of wands, Harry wasn’t even sure what had prompted him to come here in the first. His little theory was completely absurd…his two…wands…were completely unrelated. He was simply mad! He had about convinced himself to leave the place completely, when he looked over to see Hermione inspecting a funny looking wand that Ollivander had on display.

He was doing this for her.

Ok, and maybe a little bit for himself. But mostly for her.

“Sir, what wand is this?” Hermione asked, bringing the wand up to her face and smelling it. “It smells…yummy.”

“Oh, that,” Ollivander said, looking at the wand as if he were a Lord looking at a third class citizen. “It’s a Central American import…palm tree, with the core of a magical coconut.”

“Oh,” Hermione said, the curiosity on her face evident. Harry was sure that the second she got back home she’d start researching the properties of the cores of magical coconuts.

At that moment, three very odd – yet very respectable – looking creatures entered the store.

“Mr. Ollivander, we have just received word that your vault has just been broken into,” one of the creatures, the presumed leader of the group, informed him gruffly.

Harry couldn’t help but stare at the creatures; they were tall (very tall)…but somehow looked short. Their noses were big…yet their ears small and pointy. Their skin was slightly green…but not completely. He had never seen anything like them, and in his young life, he had seen many things. Hermione smacked his arm in reproach for staring. After all, it is impolite to stare, no matter how warranted.

“We request that you come with us to inspect your vault and see if anything has been stolen.”

“Well…I have customers,” Ollivander replied, motioning towards Harry and Hermione.

“This does not concern us. What concerns us that you allow us to escort you to your vault where you shall make sure everything is in order, and then allow a couple of our people to ask you a few questions. I promise you this will not take long, forty minutes at the most. This past week we’ve become quite efficient in our procedure.”

Ollivander looked upset; he didn’t want to leave his customers…the wand business had been quite slow as of late. But this was, after all, his vault they were talking about. Perhaps he could do both…

“Mr. Potter. I’m not in the habit of doing this, but…I trust you and Ms. Granger. Would you like to stay behind and try out different wands…see which one suits you? I promise I’ll be back in precisely forty minutes to see that you’ve found the adequate one, and then I’ll ring up your purchase. How about that?”

Harry hesitated. He really didn’t want a new wand…maybe this was a sign that he should forget about the whole thing? But another glance at Hermione and he relented.

“Of course. That will be perfectly fine.”

“Wonderful. I suggest you begin your search way in the back shelves, on your left. All of the phoenix feather wands are there, separated by tree and size. I suggest you begin there; I doubt your new wand would be anything but phoenix feather.”

And so Ollivander departed with the three odd creatures, leaving Harry and Hermione to themselves.

“Shall we begin?” Hermione asked, already on her way towards the back end of the shop.

Seeing the rows and rows of wands stretched out before him, Harry suddenly felt overwhelmed. He remembered the lengthy process it had been the first time; what if no other wand liked him? What if he was doomed to have this wand because of its weird connection to Lord Voldemort? What if he would always have a malfunctioning…wand.

That’s it! Voldemort was to blame for his problem. If he hadn’t done it already, he would kill him again!

“Where do you want to begin your search?” Hermione asked, taking down a couple of boxes, putting them on a nearby table, and opening up the lids. “I don’t think any of these look like they would suit you…”

“Well, it doesn’t really matter what they look like,” Harry replied, taking one and immediately putting it back down. He felt nothing.

“This one looks like it might…” Hermione said, handing him one. It was beech wood, about ten inches, and definitely not for Harry.

After what felt like the millionth wand, Harry stopped short and slammed his hands down in frustration. “None of them work.”

Hermione sighed, expecting that something like this would happen.

Harry shoved some wand boxes aside and plopped down on the table. “What were those odd creatures anyway? You know, the ones that took Ollivander.”

Hermione sat down next to Harry. “They’re half goblins, half giants. And they’re not odd. They’ve got a soul just like everyone else, and don’t like being stared at thank you very much.”

Harry grinned, shaking his head slightly. He could already picture a new pin: HAG~ The Halfbreed Advancement Group. Imagine Ron wearing that…

“They’re very capable creatures,” she prattled on, “combining the intelligence of Goblins and the strength of Giants. They’re ideal as the elite security group behind Gringotts; security elves are just a front.”

Hermione stopped long enough to hear another sigh come from Harry, and she suddenly remembered why they were there. “You’ll find a new wand, I know you will.”

“I doubt it,” Harry said sadly. “It’s this stupid connection with Voldemort; it will haunt me forever.”

“Don’t say that!” Hermione replied, aghast.

Harry didn’t want to upset her. “Of course you’re right, I’m being silly. He’s gone; he’s in the past.”

“Why do you want a new wand anyway?” Hermione asked, wanting to end this Voldemort talk as quickly as possible.

“Well – oh, it’s so silly, I can’t believe myself. I shan’t tell you; you’ll laugh.”

“What?!” Hermione exclaimed, a smile already on her face. “I shan’t laugh! I promise.”

“Er…well. RemembertheotherdaywhenIdidn’tgetyouoff? Well, the next day, Ron’s newspaper started telling me that…I...Ishouldgetanewwandbecausemineismalfunctioning so now I’m here doing just that…”

Hermione had that bemused expression on her face again. “Harry, that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. You’re here because a newspaper told you? What does any of this have to do with the other…ahem…night…”

Harry ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t know. I guess…I needed to try and do something about this mess, even if it is nonsense. I want to please you more than anything else in the world, and…”

“And…?”

“And I don’t want you running back to that prat Viktor Krum.”

“Is this also why you’ve barely even looked at me this past week?”

Harry nodded slightly. “Well, I’ve looked, though I told my hands to calm themselves down. I was afraid…”

Hermione got up from her seat, placed herself in front of Harry, and cupped his cheeks with her hands. “Listen to me. Number one: if I ever decide to run back to that prat Viktor Krum, it won’t be because of his skills in bed. He isn’t half as good as you are…”

Harry’s pitiful face suddenly lighted up in happiness. “Really? I’m-”

“Oh don’t look so smug!” Hermione chided, though she was grinning as well. “Second, let me tell you about the first time I ever felt lust…”

“Does this involve that prat Viktor Krum?”

“Somewhat.”

Harry groaned.

“No, no, no. Look at me. Now let me tell you. It was fourth year, and we had stayed up all night trying to get you to learn the Summoning Charm to fight the Horntail. Remember?”

Harry smiled softly. “How could I ever forget?”

“Well then, do you remember in the common room, the first time you managed the spell perfectly?”

“Of course, I summoned your Transfiguration textbook, and…”

“You did a funny little happy dance, your wand in the air, looking simply delighted. I remember the fire in your eyes…we were exhausted, but exhilarated. And then you did it again and again; brows furrowed in concentration, your wand raised high to summon everything else in the little pile we had accumulated…let me tell you, it was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.”

“What?!”

“Yes! I was so happy when you mastered it! You looked so wonderful once you did, and I felt so elated that there was a split second in which I wanted to slam you onto the nearest couch and snog you senseless. Of course, I dismissed that feeling as nonsense, but it never left me completely. Then, sometimes – not all the time mind you so stop looking so pleased with yourself - I would watch you do some spell; you would raise your wand, furrow your brows, and the image of you on that night would come to me again…”

“So you’re telling me that the first time you ever felt lust was while watching me do a summoning charm?” Harry looked at her as if she’d gone mad, though, mad in a good way.

“That is exactly what I’m saying! And to this day I still think you look awfully sexy when you use your wand. When you summon your socks, when you clear the dishes. Oh my! And when you do a Patronus I just feel like coming right then and there…”

There. He heard it. She had said it, exactly the way she always did when he had her spread out before him. Oh my. Oh my indeed…

“Therefore, I suggest you should double think this whole new wand business. If it hadn’t been for that wand, perhaps I wouldn’t be sitting next to you right n-”

But she couldn’t finish her sentence as Harry’s mouth had suddenly slammed itself against hers. There was no gentleness, no patience in his lips. Every bite, every movement of his tongue had an urgency to it that made Hermione heady with the aroma of lust. Hmm…lust…

Lust was such a good thing.

He was sitting on the table, and he had her standing between his legs. He held her hard against him; he wanted her to know how badly it was that he needed her. He wanted her to know that their week-long abstinence was about to culminate in something so spectacular, that her week spent walking around with her knees knocking each other tight to keep from attacking him like a crazed Lethifold had not been for nothing…

“I don’t think I want another wand,” Harry said, breathless from the maddening kiss.

“That’s good,” Hermione replied, equally winded. “Perhaps maybe we should umm…go home?” She had that look in her eye that held such promise that Harry had to restrain himself from apparating them away right that second.

“We can’t,” Harry said, suddenly looking as depressed as he did before. “We promised Ollivander…”

“Sod Ollivander!” Hermione exclaimed. The passion in her voice made Harry raise an eyebrow.

“Well well well…aren’t you just a randy little trollop.”

Instead of hexing him like she normally would, Hermione smiled mischievously, and retaliated with a long, lazy exploration of his neck with her tongue.

“All right then,” Harry sighed, slightly worried that his eyes would permanently roll into the back of his head. “Maybe we should just go home…”

Hermione shook her head. “I don’t think I can wait a second longer.”

And with unprecedented strength she pulled Harry off the table, and slammed him against one of the shelves that held the many phoenix feather wands. The force of the impact caused a couple of the boxes to fall off the shelf…but that didn’t faze them a bit. Harry briefly wondered why the shelf itself didn’t topple over, and quickly remembered that he was in the wizarding world, and some type of magic must be keeping them in place. But all too soon, his brain lost the possibility of forming any coherent thought.

Although snogging Hermione was always a good thing to be doing, Harry decided that he wanted to…smooth things along. So with the male prerogative he turned them about, so that she was pinned against the shelf, and he now had the advantage…

“Let’s see what we have under here…” Harry whispered, bringing a hand down under her skirt, and slowly feeling his way up. He was quite shocked when he brought his hand up to her hip, and had yet to feel anything other than Hermione’s skin. Which meant…

“Why Hermione Jane! Dare I say…you’re knickerless!”

Hermione looked amused. “Indeed I am. You see, this morning I sort of forgot to put my knickers on…”

“You forgot?”

Hermione glared at him. “Yes I did! I’m being honest! I went down to breakfast without putting on any knickers because…well it’s my house and I should think I’d be able to be knickerless whenever I wanted!”

“Naturally,” Harry replied with exaggerated empathy.

“And then I forgot to put some on before we left…I honestly didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

“Well its not exactly like I had planned to grope you while shopping for my new wand.”

Hermione sighed. “Are you gonna stop now?”

“Are you crazy? This just makes everything much more brilliant. How much time do we have?”

“Oh…I’d say fifteen minutes,” she replied, beaming.

“Excellent.”

Without preamble Harry sank down to his knees, grabbed Hermione’s right leg, and threw it over his shoulder. This time it would be prefect…he would make her scream exquisitely…

Or perhaps not. He didn’t want everyone in Diagon Alley running in to see what all the commotion was about. It wasn’t like they could lock the doors or silencio the place, he was sure Ollivander had wards against that sort of thing…

Devoid of further thought, he hiked Hermione’s skirt up high enough so that he had a wonderful view of just how knickerless Hermione was. She was very knickerless…

Tentatively, he tasted her with his tongue, but with a little push from her knee, he decided that sluggishness was not the best policy for the time constraint they were working under, so throwing hesitation aside he grabbed her hip with his right hand, her leg with his left hand, and began a campaign of strong, vengeful licks, intermingled with sucks, that had Hermione moaning and thrashing violently against the shelf.

But before she could come, he stopped himself. He knew he could make her come this way, but his wounded pride needed to know that he could still be successful using other methods…

With a resentful moan from Hermione, Harry stood up, though he let it be known that he still wasn’t done with her. With a naughty glint in his eyes he unbuttoned his trousers, letting free the poor little bugger who had spent a week suffering in loneliness.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see him,” Hermione said, eyeing Harry’s erection hungrily.

“You should be pleased to know he reciprocates the sentiment.”

He kissed here then, giddy with the intoxication of making love to her.

Without thinking twice Hermione raised both her legs and wrapped them around him, giving Harry leave to swiftly enter her. Both of them cried out, a weeklong of need finally met in this one, delicious moment.

Harry began to move within her, and Hermione relished in the feel of him inside her. She remembered the first time she had seen him fully naked, she had been so scared…she practically shook with nervousness. He was Harry! Her best friend! But all she had wanted from her best friend was…his wand. And no, not the little wooden stick he did his spells with, she wanted the real thing…

And by god the real thing was the best thing!

Harry slammed into her, not taking into account that he might be hurting her back with the constant contact against the shelves. But she wasn’t complaining, so he continued on…and he was quite pleased to see Hermione was fiercely clutching the shelves, the pleasure too much for her to bear.

Boxes of phoenix feather wands were falling out of the shelves, some from the force of Harry’s thrusts, some because Hermione knocked them over with her hands, and some fell due to the amount of magical energy that Harry and Hermione were both building as they got closer and closer to the end…

“Oh…my,” Hermione half-moaned, half-sighed, almost driving Harry into a crazed frenzy. Oh! How that those two little words could drive him mad with lust. As a result of this his thrusts drove in faster, and Hermione almost killed him with kisses.

Soon enough, he felt that distinct quivering of Hermione’s inner muscles. I’m going to do this! I’m actually going to make her come! He relaxed slightly, deciding now to concentrate of the feel of her warm and wet around him, instead of the insane desire to get her off. Oh she felt so good, and he couldn’t believe that he had lasted a whole week without experiencing this. Never again would that happen…

“Oh, my…Harry.” And with his name on her lips he felt the walls tighten around him deliciously, marking her orgasm, and his triumph. This was sinful; anything that felt this good was surely wicked.

Relieved, and not hesitating for a second, Harry let himself loose. Thank Merlin, he thought to himself. The effort almost destroyed me.

Hermione kept her legs wrapped around him, and busily covered his face in grateful kisses. That was exactly what she had been wanting - had been needing - for a week.

“Mr. Potter? Ms. Granger?” Came a yell from the front of the store.

“Christ in heaven,” muttered Harry, dropping Hermione to the floor and desperately re-buttoning his trousers. Hermione smoothed out her skirt, and ran a hand through her hair.

“We’re coming!” Hermione yelled in reply.

“Too late,” Harry said with a wag of his eyebrows.

“Oh stop it.”

Both of them walked back to the front, looking for all the world like a respectable young couple.

“I’m sorry to have taken so long…did you find everything satisfying?” Ollivander asked, completely oblivious to what had just happened in his store.

Hermione hid her face in Harry’s shoulder, and Harry bit his lip to hide a grin. “Everything was…wonderful,” he replied.

“Lovely. So you found your wand?”

Harry shock his head, “Actually, I’ve decided to continue using my old wand. It is a credit to your expertise that you hit the nail right on the mark the first time around.”

“Why thank you Mr. Potter.” Ollivander didn’t know whether he should be pleased at the compliment, or disgruntled at the lack of a sale.

“However, I would like to purchase that coconut wand,” Hermione interjected.

“You need a new wand, Ms. Granger? If you do, why don’t you have a look at some of my other stock-”

“Oh no Mr. Ollivander, I just want the wand for research purposes only. It looks quite, intriguing…”

Harry rolled his eyes, though he smiled as he did so. Hermione would always be an insufferable know it all, and by god he loved her for it.

“Very well then.”

*~*~*~*~*

Later that day, as Ollivander was readying himself to close up his store, he found great big mess of phoenix feather wand boxes strewn about everywhere. He was mightily disgruntled, as he prided himself on tidiness, and he could not for an instant believe that such respectable people as Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger would ever leave such a mess in their wake. Something else must have happened here….

Thankfully, he had recently allowed Arthur Weasley to test his odd Wizard/Muggle surveillance thingies in his shop. Perhaps he would have a look at the crystal ball to see what disaster must have befallen this area. Surely, it could not have been Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger…

****

Hope it wasn’t too painful for you boys…