A/N: Okay, so this chapter is mostly filler. But the smut returns! :D I know, I know, it's been a while and this fic IS rated NC17 for a reason, so all is well once more. ;)
Right now, according to my outline, we have three chapters and an epilogue left. Four more chapters! :( It's almost over! :'( The next three chapters should be fairly long though, so hopefully there's no complaints. I've had some requests for a sequel, and while I've thought about it, I've not made a final decision. I do have another long story in mind to work on when this one is done, however, but it's post-Hogwarts and post-Voldemort, so it'll be fairly different.
Disclaimer:
"I could kill you for this TinkerWill thing," says TinkerWill, glaring while tapping his dainty slippered feet. His gossamer wings twitch wildly as he fiddles with the hem of his bright green dress.
"Yes, but then who would you have to pester every day?" says Crystal, laughing. "Besides, I think you might be a bit pleased with what I have in mind for you this time."
"I swear if you turn me into Peter Pan… I hate tights!" he says vehemently.
"Tights, yes. Pan, no."
A few wand flicks later, and Lang is wearing blue spandex tights. Very tight tights. So tight he's feeling a rather uncomfortable wedgie.
"You finally took one of my suggestions?" he asks in wonder, swishing about his new red cape. His hair is gelled to perfection and there is a rather large L emblazoned in red and gold across his chest. "Why the L? I thought we agreed on Superman."
"Lang-Superman, silly. And it looked dumb hyphenated, so I just went with the L. Now say the magic words and I'll let you go fly off to find yourself a Lois Lane."
Lang-Superman is tempted to use his new superpowers on the author, but when he tries to shoot laser beams from his eyes, it doesn't work.
"Not until you say the words. Then you can be Superman."
"Oh, fine!" he huffs impatiently. "Harry Potter isn't yours, you own nothing, JKR is evil for writing HBP as she did, and she should give the Potterverse to you."
"Thanks, Will," says Crystal, grinning. "Now go leap tall buildings in a single bound, would you? I've got a chapter to post!"
<><><><><>
The wizarding world was in an uproar after Harry's interruption of Voldemort's celebration. There were scores of witches and wizards who demanded further details, though Harry had clearly stated over the WWN that he felt he didn't need to offer an explanation. The head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had learned of Tonks' involvement in Harry's latest adventure, and had insisted on a full report. She had argued that it was an off-the-clock mission having nothing to do with official Ministry business, but in the end was forced to relent and complete the necessary paperwork.
Standard Operating Procedure within the MLE dictates that all mission reports are to remain completely confidential in a file marked solely by case number. Naturally, Tonks' report was leaked to the Daily Prophet within hours of filing it.
The Prophet's editor had gone to Minister Scrimgeour before publishing. Though the Harry Potter smear campaign was, for the most part, over, he had wanted to run the article by the Minister for approval just in case. An article of this nature was not to be taken lightly and so, the day after Hogwarts had opened its doors to its students, The Daily Prophet ran an article that did more damage to Harry's reputation than all the rubbish they'd printed previously.
Potter Fails to Slay You-Know-Who
Offers He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named A Chance At Freedom
The headline on its own was enough to turn everyone but those closest to Harry against him once more.
He found himself explaining to McGonagall, upon approval from Dumbledore's portrait, the significance of destroying all of Voldemort's Horcruxes before killing him. He had begrudgingly given her a brief lesson on Horcruxes before explaining how Nagini was not one, and that they had to determine was the sixth one was before ridding the world of Voldemort once and for all. Harry felt that he had successfully terrified Riddle into hiding, which was better than severing what little remained of his soul from his body and giving him the opportunity for another chance at rebirth.
McGonagall told the other Order members in a no-nonsense tone that Harry had gone with the best course of action for the situation, and that she fully supported him.
No one dared to question or challenge the Headmistress.
A similar announcement was required at supper in the Great Hall that evening to keep the student body under control. Of course it didn't help overmuch, but the anti-Potter atmosphere seemed to lift a degree or two.
It certainly didn't help that he had been publicly named Head Boy at the Welcoming Feast the previous night. What had been a joyous announcement and double triumph for Gryffindor House had turned sour the next evening. Many of the students found it rather difficult to follow his leadership, considering they barely trusted or believed in him anymore.
Hermione did her best in her position as Head Girl to discourage the attitude towards Harry, but even she could not sway the Hogwarts population. All those in houses other than Gryffindor kept their distance from Harry.
All except one.
Though Malfoy's return to Hogwarts had been less than ceremonious, he was permitted to move about the castle with the privileges granted to any student. In light of his deflection to the Light side, McGonagall had decided that his and Ginny's month in solitude was punishment enough. They had been forced to share in each other's company for the month of August, as they were not permitted near the Gryffindor trio of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Though the first week or two had been tense between the pair, an odd friendship of sorts began to develop and they found themselves actually enjoying the forced punishment. Though Draco had not advanced to a stage where he was willing to walk to her classes and so forth, he no longer called her Weaselette. Well, as long as there were no other Slytherins around.
Despite Malfoy's restriction on whom he kept company with, he still made regular attempts at discussion with Harry. Though Harry was rather reluctant to acquiesce, he did so at Hermione's insistence. She had come to terms with Malfoy's actions long ago, and had forgiven him. Harry, along with Ron, would have preferred to tear him limb from limb, but couldn't deny Hermione's request that they let the entire thing go. He and the Slytherin formed a strange sort of alliance. While they were still distant enough to address one another solely by last name, they no longer made snide comments or attempted to hex the other.
The biggest uproar to occur in the month of September was the identity of the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. McGonagall had not announced or introduced any new or returning member of the faculty for the position, and would continue to avoid the subject until classes began. When a student asked any teacher the identity of who would be running their classes, they were given a cryptic response of `You'll see.' Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw shared a Defense class earlier in the week than the rest of seventh year, but not a single member from either house was telling. It wasn't until Gryffindor had double Defense with the Slytherins that they found out.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione had crowded themselves around one desk, with Draco on the opposite side of the aisle. Ron supposed that the old adage was true: Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. Each one of the four had their Defense text in front of them with writing materials, awaiting the arrival of the new professor.
The remainder of their classmates were talking in hushed tones, each one with a unique speculation on whom their new professor would be. Harry heard a few comments from the Slytherins that they hoped Umbridge was coming back. He fought back a temporary feeling of nauseousness at the mention of her name, and silently hoped that McGonagall wasn't that hard-pressed for someone to fill the position.
"Relax, Harry," said Hermione warmly, placing a reassuring hand over hers. "I don't think the Ministry would be stupid enough to try that again."
He sighed, hoping she was right.
Suddenly the doors behind them burst open with a loud clatter, and every pair of eyes in the room turned to see the spectacle walking into the class. It was a wonder that so many of them were able to hold their laughter in.
The man striding purposefully towards the front of the room wore the most ridiculous outfit that any Hogwarts student had ever seen on a teacher, and that included the illustrious image of Neville Longbottom's boggart in third year. Severus Snape in a dress had nothing on the man standing in front of them now.
He stood at the front of the room, arms crossed with his wand in his right hand, glaring at each and every one of the students. His hair was a fiery orange that made the Weasley red look dull, his mouth was set in a firm line, and his eyes were hard. He wore a white knee-length coat that Hermione and many other students with knowledge of the Muggle world would have sworn was a lab coat, though it was emblazoned across the breast pocket with the crossed wand and bone emblem of St. Mungo's. The blinding white coat was trimmed with lime green cord, and peeking from below the hem were a ludicrously lime green pair of scrub pants. A bright purple pair of loafers completed the ensemble with the help of a Muggle stethoscope hanging from around his neck.
Flicking his hand casually, a piece of chalk rose into the air and began to scrawl across the board.
"Doctor Lang, ladies and gentlemen. Do well to remember it; it'll be the name haunting your nightmares for the rest of the year. This is N.E.W.T. level defense, and I'm not about to go easy on you lot. Wands away, there'll be no foolish wand waving in this classroom. Get your texts out and open to page two-hundred and seventy-three."
Not a single hand moved towards a single text or wand.
"Did you not hear me?" he leered threateningly at the students in the front row. He did not fail to notice, however, that Hermione had her text opened to the required page, her wand in her book bag, and her hand in the air.
The rest of the students quickly prepared their books as he glided over to the Gryffindor trio.
"I don't seem to recall asking any questions, Miss Granger. For what could you possibly have an answer?" he asked snidely in a tone that would have done Severus Snape rather proud.
"Doctor, sir? Are we not to address you as Professor Lang?"
He turned on his heel and strode back to the front of the room, picked up the chalk and forcefully underlined the moniker of `Dr.'
"I'll have none of that Professor rubbish, Miss Granger. True, I did study to become a Healer, and even with that type of education I would be referred to as a Professor when teaching. But I did not spend thousands of pounds on an education at one of England's finest medical schools to not use the title that came with all the rights and privileges of successfully completing the course. It'll be Dr. Lang, thank you."
Whispers began to circulate the room at this. The purebloods were shocked to hear that their new professor had a Muggle degree.
"Dr. Lang," began Zabini from the Slytherin side of the room, sarcastically stressing his title, "forgive me if I'm missing something here, but are we not in Defense Against the Dark Arts?"
Dr. Lang gave him a rather furtive glance accompanied by a raised eyebrow.
Seeing no response from the teacher, Zabini bravely continued. "It's just that it seems odd to have a Healer teaching a Defense course. After all, isn't your part deal what comes after Defense? Cleaning up the mess and all?"
The Slytherins snickered, and several of them clapped at Zabini's comment.
"I'm about to tell you two very important things, Zabini, so shut it and listen. One. I discovered in both my magical and muggle medical courses that it is essential to understand the nature and origin of the wound or infliction you are dealing with before you can begin to heal it. Ergo, I am well versed in Defense. Two. It seems that Headmistress McGonagall has had a rather brilliant insight into how this year's class will go between the Slytherins and the Gryffindors. She believed it vital to the success of the course, and the vitality of the students involved, that there be a Healer present to clean up the mess when the Gryffindors are through with you and the rest of your house. By hiring me for the position, she was killing two snakes with one hex."
Not a sound was heard from the Slytherin side of the classroom, and Zabini shrunk into his seat. It took a few moments, but when a smile began to creep upon the new teacher's face, the Gryffindor students cheered wildly.
"Dr. Lang," said Malfoy, clearly feeling braver than the rest of his house, "Is it not a requirement of each and every member of Hogwarts faculty to be devoid of any bias against a particular house? You clearly seem to be harbouring one for Slytherin."
"Just because I am wearing green, Mr. Malfoy, does not mean that I support your house, your colours, or the absurd notions your house and its members hold so dear. I can't help it if the governing board of St. Mungo's is colour-blind and feels that lime green is a perfectly suitable shade for a Healer to wear. I hold no bias against Slytherin, but I hold no preference for it either."
The doctor paused, surveying his students for a lengthy silence. "Besides," he said, "Green really isn't my colour. I'd much prefer to wear scarlet and gold any day."
Not a single one laughed; instead, they all seemed utterly bewildered.
"Right then, not used to my teaching style. Perhaps I'll try something else you all might be more accustomed to then, yes?"
With a few quick wandless gestures towards his clothing and hairstyle, the doctor traded his lab coat and stethoscope for a more suitable set of black Hogwarts robes, and his vibrantly orange hair for a rather dark, dull brown.
He turned to face the class with another venomous glare, and began speaking in low tones. "I can teach you spells to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses of your opponents. I can teach you to incant fame, charm glory, and even spell death." He paused, and turned to the Slytherin side. "Now, pay close attention. Quills and parchment out please." He noticed the Gryffindors taking out their writing utensils. "No, no, no, Slytherins only. This is just for them."
The Slytherins seemed a touch too eager, but favouritism was what they were used to, and they were willing to overlook their new teacher's earlier comment against their house.
"This'll be a bit of dictation for you in regards to what I just said, alright? Incant fame. Charm glory. I can even teach you to spell death. It's d-e-a-t-h. Zabini, Parkinson, that's an `a' in that. Not two `e's. "
Rather suddenly, he wandlessly transfigured his clothing and hair back into their previous state, and began to laugh uproariously. It was two minutes before Gryffindor joined in, and a full five before the laughter subsided.
"Sorry, really, so sorry. I just couldn't keep that nonsense up. I really am a Healer, a muggle Doctor, and your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. I would prefer you call me Doctor Lang, but Professor will suffice if you happen to slip up. I'm not the raving lunatic I've portrayed myself as the last quarter of the hour, though I don't claim to be entirely sane; but I did mean what I said about Professor McGonagall. She thought it rather wise for me to teach your class this year, as there'll be a fair bit of duelling covered. It's much quicker for me to do the healing and mending rather than sending all the injured students off to Madam Pomfrey and turning the Hospital Wing into the new seventh year dormitories for Slytherin."
Gryffindor burst into laughter at their teacher's latest comment, while the Slytherins scowled and silently plotted revenge.
"Now, enough of this rubbish. On with the lesson, shall we? Texts away, wands out." Dr. Lang gestured and the desks and chairs slid across the room against one wall. "Though I've six years of student records in regards to your Defense classes informing me of your individual skill levels, I'm the type of man who prefers to see things for himself."
A few wand waves and charms later, and there was a duelling platform in the centre of the classroom. Several of the students groaned.
"Oh, hush. It's not so bad. One-minute timed duels for each pair, spells limited to disarming, mild hexes and jinxes, and absolutely nothing that can cause serious physical damage." Lang paused, and winked at the Gryffindors. "I don't think Madam Pomfrey will take to us decorating her ward with silver and green so early in the term. We'll save the heavy stuff for later."
There were a few quiet boos from the Slytherins, Zabini finally participating after having been properly put in his place, but Lang chose to ignore them. He quickly paired Gryffindor students with a Slytherin, and set them to work. Ron took the full minute allotted to disarm his partner, but the way Zabini was rubbing his wrist after a particularly nasty stinging hex was well worth it. Hermione made short work of Pansy Parkinson, not to anyone's surprise, and had the pug-nosed girl flat on her bottom thirty seconds into the duel.
Harry, on the other hand, was most impressive. He had been paired with Malfoy, of all the Slytherins, and while they were in some sort of truce, Harry wasn't about to skive off putting in the proper effort just because of that. After sending a Dungbomb hex at Malfoy (which was a rather brilliant piece of magic that the Weasley twins had shown him at Bill and Fleur's reception) to distract him, he had disarmed the blond and was brandishing Malfoy's wand next to his own fifteen seconds after the duel had begun.
Malfoy was not impressed.
Neither was the rest of the class, for the Weasley twins' hex was rather odious, and the air hadn't cleared yet.
Doctor Lang took quick care of the smell, and clapped Harry on the back. "Well done, Mr. Potter! Ten points to Gryffindor for a brilliant choice in distraction." He turned to Malfoy, and the smile left his face. "At least you tried, Mr. Malfoy. However, ten points from Slytherin for smelling so foul! Good to see those six years of magical education have been wasted on you. You can't even remember a simple air-freshening charm to clear up your problem. Ahh well, can't ask that every student be perfect, I suppose."
Having run through the class roster and noticing that their time was nearly up, the doctor called, "For next lesson, please read up to chapter three in your text. And for those of you who may still have any lingering doubt: yes, I was sorted into Gryffindor when I studied at Hogwarts. Lion pride through and through, which is why I still can't resist taking a crack at you Slytherin lot. Dismissed!"
As the students left, they could hear their new professor roaring from his office as though he, himself, were the symbolic Gryffindor lion.
<><><><><>
Ron was still crowing over Doctor Lang's treatment of the Slytherins that night at dinner. "Bloody brilliant, I say," he said around a mouthful of potatoes, "It's about time the Slytherins had their arses handed to them like Snape did to us for all those years. Did you see the way Doctor Lang mocked Snape? Genius!"
Harry nodded in agreement, though the mention of Severus Snape tugged a little at his heart. He still was not fully over the death of Dumbledore, and the mention of his murderer's name did not sit well with him.
"It's appalling!" admonished Hermione, having the courtesy to have waited until after her food was chewed and swallowed to contribute. She shot Ron a pointed look, "And I wasn't talking solely about Doctor Lang's behaviour! For Merlin's sake, Ron, swallow before you talk!"
"Appalling?" Ron shot back, nearly spewing potato all over Hermione. He gulped, opened his mouth to prove his food was indeed on its way to his digestive system, and continued. "The way us Gryffindors have been treated these last six years by that greasy git is appalling! I for one am damned glad that Doctor Lang isn't afraid to give it as good as they do. Come along, Harry, back me up here!"
Harry shoved away the elbow that Ron was digging into his side. "It's not that I don't enjoy seeing the Slytherins on the receiving end for once," he said, glancing cautiously at Hermione, "but he's not exactly subtle about it. I like him already, I would hate to see him lose his job because the Board of Governors thinks that he's being too harsh."
Taking a sip of pumpkin juice, Hermione eyed her boyfriend, and then her best friend. "You both look at me as though I don't want to see the Slytherins being ridiculed! Every once in a while it can be good fun, but to have a teacher doing it throughout class? Honestly! Taking points off Draco for not clearing up the air after your hex, Harry. That has to be one of the most ridiculous reasons for taking off points that I have ever heard!"
"But Hermione!" whined Ron, "It's Malfoy!"
She sighed, and took a bite of her chicken. "Yes, and I've moved on from that, or have you not been paying attention every time I've told you so?"
Ron shrugged. "He's a Slytherin."
"Daphne Greengrass is a Slytherin, and my Arithmancy partner! I hardly see you holding prejudice against her for the house she was sorted into!" seethed Hermione.
Ron chose to ignore that, and returned to stuffing his face as only he could.
Harry gently wrapped his arm around Hermione's shoulders. "Don't worry about it, love. I'm sure he's not like that all the time."
"Harry, the three of us have been best friends for seven years now. He is like that all the time."
"I meant Doctor Lang."
"Oh."
Harry paused for a moment of thought, his brow furrowed. "Did you notice that he seemed to know everyone's names?"
Hermione shrugged. "I would think he would have a seating chart of some sort to identify the students."
"Ish fhurs' clash o' derm, H'mione," reminded Ron through a mouthful of something Hermione did not want to identify, and then swallowing heavily. "We're still changing seats half the time, wouldn't it be too early to make up a chart or summit?"
"I think he's maybe a Legilimens," commented Harry.
"It's possible," lamented Hermione, shooting a dirty glare at Ron for his usual terrible eating habits.
Harry pressed a kiss to her temple, and finished his last bite of roast chicken. "Shall we maybe let Ron run along without us for the rest of the night?"
Hermione pursed her lips as she looked at her boyfriend. "Why, Harry, whatever did you have in mind?"
He grinned deviously at her. "Perhaps changing the password to our common room and not informing him?"
She smiled, and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll meet you there. Oh, and Harry?" whispered Hermione sweetly as she rose from the table. "Dungbomb hex."
As Harry watched the sway of her hips as Hermione left the Great Hall, he laughed inwardly at her brilliance. There was no way that Ron, in an attempt to guess his way into the Heads suite, would ever suspect her choice of password.
<><><><><>
Twenty minutes later, Harry found himself pacing nervously in front of the portrait hole to the Heads suite. He had to pause for a moment to determine precisely why he was nervous, but then it dawned on him that he and Hermione hadn't been…together…in quite some time. Sure, there had been the occasional kiss, but what with the business of tracking down Horcruxes and destroying them, pulling the wool over Voldemort's eyes, and carefully preserving their friendship with Ron despite any jealousy issues, well… there just hadn't been time.
Shaking his head and feeling rather silly-it was Hermione after all, and it wasn't like they hadn't done anything already-he gave Ogden the new and improved password, and slipped through the entrance.
Harry had not prepared himself for what he found within the door.
Carelessly draped over the arm of the scarlet sofa was Hermione's Gryffindor robe, complete with her shiny golden Head Girl badge winking at him in the candlelight.
Candlelight? Dear, sweet Merlin, Hermione had been plotting this all along.
He took a few tentative steps into the room, and noticed another item of clothing haphazardly left in a puddle on the floor. It was her sweater, charcoal grey and trimmed in scarlet and gold. A goofy grin spread across Harry's face. Though he'd seen his girlfriend naked numerous times, it had certainly been quite a while and the anticipation was killing him.
A few more steps towards his bedroom, and her black leather shoes were sitting neatly next to each other just outside the door. There were no more random bits of clothing lying in the few feet between him and his bedroom door, so he crossed through the entryway and nearly dropped to the floor on the sight that greeted him.
Hermione was stretched languidly across his bedcovers in her school uniform. Harry did not remember the uniform ever looking like that.
She must have transfigured or charmed or otherwise magicked it, for the skirt was far too short and the blouse far too tight. She still wore her grey knee-high socks with the house colours banded across the top and her Gryffindor tie, but her top few buttons were undone and her tie hung loosely about her neck. She'd gathered her curly hair into some sort of messy pile atop her head, but Harry couldn't find anything wrong with it. He was… well, he was in heaven, and he wasn't about to start questioning her motives or behaviour.
Not that he was complaining. He certainly wasn't.
"Honestly, Harry," she said in a low tone that sent shivers down his spine, "It took you twenty minutes to finish up and ditch Ron?"
He grinned bashfully as he began to step out of his own shoes and shrug off his robes. "Yes, well, you know Ron. Appetite of a hippogriff, that one. He wanted to ask me something about Ginny and Draco anyway, and I didn't have the heart to tell him it would have to wait."
Hermione raised an eyebrow at his admission. "Ginny and Draco? What do you know about them?"
Harry looked at her thoughtfully. "Should I know something about them?"
She shrugged, and patted a spot next to her on the bed. "What did Ron want to know?"
"Just asked if I knew where they'd been off to most of last month. Y'know, while we were destroying those lovely little bits of Riddle's soul. They were pretty much under castle arrest, and Ron was just… concerned." Said Harry as he un-tucked his shirt and joined her on the bed.
Hermione frowned. "Can't he let Ginny be?"
"Why, do you know something?" asked Harry, eyeing her curiously.
"Now, Harry, would you look around you? Does this really seem like the appropriate time and place for a discussion about whatever relationship exists between Ginny and Draco?"
Harry did just that, and noticed that Hermione had gone much further than candles in their common room. They adorned every level surface in his bedroom as well, and there was something chilling in a silver bucket on his wardrobe with two glasses next to it. He didn't suppose it was alcoholic in nature as the Head Girl wouldn't be caught dead harbouring contraband substances in her suite, but he still hoped that she'd planned something exciting.
"Hey, wait, what relationship between them?" he asked, finally cottoning on to Hermione's words.
She rolled her eyes and in one quick motion pinned him to the mattress. "Harry," she said, her lips hovering above his, "let it go. Kiss me."
He did just that, brining his mouth to hers and deepening the kiss the moment she allowed it. His hands settled on her hips and he pulled her down into his body, pressing her breasts against his chest and aligning their hips. She responded to his touch and ground into him, causing him to moan.
"Hermione…" he whispered, nibbling at her earlobe.
"You have far too many clothes on," she replied, grabbing for her wand on his bedside table. She sat up for a moment, flicked her wand at him, and grinned triumphantly. "That's better."
"You even folded them!" chuckled Harry as he watched his clothing land on his wardrobe. "Hey, I want to do that."
She shook her head. "Not tonight, Mr. Potter. You get to do it the old-fashioned way."
Harry couldn't help but display a lop-sided grin. "Right then, Miss Granger." He reached up towards her blouse, and began to unbutton the few buttons that remained. Fiddling with the collar for a moment, he slipped the necktie from its grasp and shrugged the blouse over her shoulders. She was wearing a bra underneath that matched her tie and their house colours, and he couldn't help but smile. Harry fumbled with her skirt for a moment as she was still straddling his hips, but with a few carefully timed leg movements on Hermione's part, he managed to slip it off.
He was pleased to discover that her knickers matched, as well.
Hermione stood for what she intended to be a brief moment, to kick off her skirt, when Harry stood to join her. He pressed a kiss to her temple, and then stepped back, taking her in.
"Harry, what is it?" asked Hermione after several moments of silence.
His eyes darkened as they roamed her body, and he looked up at her with an intense expression of passion and lust on his face. "Was just thinking," he mumbled, capturing her lips in a quick kiss.
"About what?"
"If the other boys in Hogwarts only saw you now…" he murmured, nipping at her neck.
Hermione pushed him back. "Other boys?"
"Not like that!" Harry said hurriedly, realizing how it had sounded. "Just… you look… well… it's enough to make any male switch houses and get up in the middle of the Great Hall and boast about Gryffindor pride!"
She flushed, her fingers lightly tracing the crimson lace and gold trimmed bra and knicker set, before she looked Harry in the eyes. "I was hoping it'd get you up, actually."
Harry wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her flush against his body. "It takes a lot less than colour coordinated lingerie to get me up Miss Granger, but I thought you knew that. Regardless," he said, his hands grasping her hips and pulling her even closer so that she could feel just how hard she was making him, "mission accomplished."
Tipping her head upwards, Hermione caught Harry's lips with her own and kissed him. They toppled together over the bed, both clad in nothing but their underthings (and in Hermione's case, her Gryffindor tie), and desperately grabbing at one another. After a few frantic tugs Hermione divested Harry of his boxers, and he'd managed to remove her bra. The only thing standing in his way now was her knickers, and he was fumbling to remove those as well.
Three attempts later and Harry was successful. Hermione made a move to take off her knee socks and tie, but Harry pulled her hand away and placed it on his chest. "Leave them on," he insisted in a husky whisper, before dipping his head to capture a nipple between his tongue and teeth. Hermione gasped, and her back arched in response.
She reached between them and wrapped her fingers around Harry, squeezing gently as her hand began to move up and down. He bit back a groan and nipped at her neck, alternating between sucking and biting on the sensitive skin. Hermione paused momentarily and looked up at him, her eyes wide and bright and her lips red and swollen from kissing him, and he could see the lust lighting her eyes. Unable to restrain himself any longer, Harry took hold of her necktie and pulled her close, plunging his tongue into her mouth as his fingers repeated the movement lower on her body.
Hermione gasped in pleasure, rolling her hips in rhythm with Harry's movements. He pushed her into the mattress as he kissed a long line down her chest, nibbling gently at the taught skin that covered her hips before his lips moved further south. He had to brace Hermione by pressing her hips into the bed to keep her from bucking too wildly as his lips and tongue worked at her clit. Harry began to move faster as her breathing rate increased and in his hurry accidentally scraped his teeth against her. He raised his head, about to immediately apologize for hurting her, when she cried out.
"Harry, please! Please do that again…" she whispered, biting her lower lip.
He could hardly refuse a plea like that, and he began alternating between sucking and licking at her clit, and carefully nibbling at it. When he could tell that she was close to orgasm he slipped a finger inside of her, and began to pump rapidly as he continued his oral ministrations. It barely took seconds before she was calling his name and squirming wildly beneath him, and he had to use all of his strength to keep her still as he brought her over the edge.
She laid panting on his bed, flushed and glistening with a fine sheen of sweat coating her exposed skin, and Harry swore he'd never seen such an incredible sight before in his life. That she had left on her tie and socks at his request just fuelled his desire further, and he couldn't keep himself from crawling over her and kissing her fiercely once more.
When Hermione was able to think coherently again, she quickly turned the tables on Harry as she pushed him backwards into the pillows and, without any teasing and torture, lowered herself down his body and took him into her mouth. Her mouth was so warm and wet around him that Harry thought he might explode right then and there. He clenched his fists into the bed sheets, and let out a low, guttural groan. He lay back enjoying Hermione's swirling tongue for what felt like hours but was most likely a few minutes, when he felt a familiar pressure building up deep within him. He warned her, expecting her to move out of the way and let him finish the job, but instead she worked even harder. She locked her lips around him and began to move even faster, and she raised her eyes to Harry's and continued to maintain eye contact even as he came. Hermione carefully sucked him as he softened, cleaning every last drop of semen from him. She placed a light kiss on his thigh before crawling back up his body and snuggling into the crook of his arm.
"'Mione?" whispered Harry as he pulled her closer and kissed her forehead.
"Mhmm?" she responded sleepily, looking at him through heavy lids.
"I love you," said Harry, sighing contentedly.
"Love you too," replied Hermione, seconds before falling asleep.
<><><><><>
"Oi! What the hell is going on in there, you two? Oh shut it, Ogden, it's not like me screaming past you is really going to hurt your eardrums; you're just a blasted painting. Harry! Hermione! You forgot to tell me the new password!"
Harry groaned inwardly, rolling over to rouse Hermione from sleep. "It's Ron, love," he said by way of explanation when she gave him a rather grouchy look.
"The way he's yelling out there you'd think we abandoned him," she grumbled, picking up her fallen clothing and heading back to her own room.
"Where are you going?" Harry asked as he balanced on one leg, pulling on his pants and socks.
"Would you bloody well let me in already?" Ron yelled through the portrait, promptly getting himself into an argument with the portrait of Ogden.
Hermione's head popped around the doorframe to Harry's bedroom, and her eyes slid in the direction of the portrait hole. "You don't very well expect me to let him in while looking like this, do you?"
Harry gave her a lopsided grin as he looked at her approvingly. "Somehow I don't think Ron'd mind that you're still in your socks, tie, and knickers."
Hermione disappeared from view and seconds later a pillow sailed through the open doorway and bounced off of Harry's head. He smiled as he recognized the fabric of the cushion as belonging to the sofa in their common room. "Nice aim!" he commented.
Moments later he emerged from his room, his trousers back in place and his shirt on, though rumpled and un-tucked, with several buttons undone at the top. He hadn't bothered with his robes or tie, as he didn't think Ron would really care. The door to Hermione's room was still closed, and he assumed she was making herself look presentable, as greeting Ron while looking as though she'd just been thoroughly ravished was probably not in their best interests.
Harry pushed the portrait hole open to admit a rather flustered and angry looking Ron, who slammed the portrait behind him. Before Harry could even say anything, Ron collapsed onto the sofa, his books in a pile on the floor, and glared at Harry.
"I don't care if the blasted idiot in that frame invented Firewhiskey, you'd think he'd know by now that I'm allowed in here regardless of the password! Could you not have a better portrait or something out there?"
Harry sighed, and fixed his best mate with a pointed stare. "Ron, did you think that maybe we changed the password so that no one else could get in?"
Ron spluttered for a moment, his mouth hanging open, before he could say something. "W-why?"
Harry really did not want to explain to him that sometimes he and Hermione would like to-What, am I supposed to tell him we locked him out so that we could have a fantastic snogging session?
Perhaps, but with a bit more tact than that, love.
His eyes opened with a start as he realized that he'd accidentally sent the thought to Hermione. So I just say `Sorry mate, but I fancied a bit of heavy snogging with the girl that you wanted, and rather than admit that to you I just locked you out.'
"We just wanted some alone time, Ron," said Hermione as she entered the miniature common room, rubbing at her hair with a towel. She'd somehow escaped to the prefect's bathroom and showered quickly to wash away the smell that was evidence of their previous activities, and Harry looked at her longingly as he couldn't help but admire the dark shining ringlets that her hair formed when wet. "Besides, wasn't it you who said just this morning at breakfast that you'd rather go Snorkack hunting with Luna than watch us snog?"
Ron seemed taken aback, and could not find the words to argue with Hermione.
"Besides, I was just coming to change the password back when I heard you screaming at Ogden. Honestly, Ron, do you really think that berating a portrait is going to get you anywhere?"
Hermione knelt next to the sofa, straightening Ron's haphazard pile of books, muttering something about respecting the heavy tomes. Harry shrugged, citing it as one of those `Hermione things' that she did.
"Right, well, I ran into Doctor Lang in the corridors; he wants to see you, Hermione." Said Ron, straightening his robes as he did his best not to look Harry in the eye.
"Did he say what for?" asked Hermione, settling into the oversized chair opposite the sofa. Harry came over to stand behind her, fiddling with her damp hair.
Ron shrugged. "Dunno, just said it was important and to let you know. He'll be in his office until late."
Hermione stood quickly and went into her room. An uncomfortable silence loomed between Ron and Harry until she returned with her hair pinned up and her robes thrown on over her clothing. "I'll just go see what Doctor Lang wants, then," she said, heading for the portrait hole. "I'll be back soon."
Moments later, once Hermione was safely out of earshot, Ron turned to Harry with an unreadable expression. "So?"
Harry raised an eyebrow at him. "So what?"
Ron's expression broke into a wide grin. "So how was it?"
Rolling his eyes, Harry threw a half-hearted punch in the direction of Ron's shoulder. "We didn't."
Something flickered in Ron's blue eyes, but Harry wasn't sure what it was. Jealousy, perhaps? He'd hoped that Ron was moving past things by now, but they'd really not taken any time to discuss it.
"Really?"
Harry shook his head. "No. She's not ready for that yet."
"But you do other things," said Ron, phrasing it more like a statement than an actual question.
"Do you really want to know this?" asked Harry, bewildered. He sat heavily into the chair Hermione had vacated minutes earlier, and ran his hands nervously through his eternally messy hair.
Ron shrugged. "Gotta deal with it somehow, don't I?"
Harry felt that perhaps, by that singular admission, that they might be getting somewhere and perhaps now would be as good a time as any to talk. "So you still…"
He shook his head. "Nah, not as much as before. I mean yeah, I still fancy her a bit, but really Harry, who wouldn't? I've even seen Malfoy give her a glance or two, and he was genuinely checking her out rather than glaring at her. She's different this year," said Ron, almost wistfully.
"So you're not in love with her." Harry stated.
Ron shrugged. "Dunno if I ever was, mate."
"But when she and Ginny duelled-"
Ron held up a hand to silence Harry. "I said I wanted her, that I liked her. Never said I was in love with her. Reckon you'd have to be mad to sentence yourself to a lifetime in the library like that." He winked at Harry. "She is rather pretty though, isn't she? Completely mental, but it sorta grows on you…"
Harry nodded in agreement; he understood exactly what Ron was saying. "So you're still okay with this?"
"Don't have much choice, do I? She's in love with you, not me. Just because I fancy her doesn't mean I'm going to stop you from having the one thing that you were denied from childhood."
Slightly confused, Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably. "You're saying that I was denied Hermione since I was a baby?"
Ron sighed, like Harry was the densest git to walk the planet. "Love, Harry. I don't need to remind you of all the things you lost, but I know growing up with the Dursleys wasn't all that wonderful. Of course your friends love you and-don't tell Fred and George I said this, I'll never hear the end of it-well, obviously I love you. You're an honorary Weasley and you know my mum would have you in a heartbeat, but it isn't the same when it's not your own family. How can I hold against you the one thing you deserve above all else? If anyone should be with Hermione, it's you, mate. And I'm glad it's you."
Harry was overwhelmed with the urge to hug Ron for everything he'd just said, but he figured his admission of just how much he cared had been embarrassing enough, and he didn't want to make him uncomfortable. He settled for just a smile instead. "Thanks."
"Don't thank me, Harry, I haven't done anything special."
"You have, you just don't realize it. Aside from Hermione, you're the only other person to have ever said that they love me."
"Really?" asked Ron. He'd been told daily as he was growing up that his parents loved and cherished them, and couldn't imagine life otherwise. "Remind me to hex Vernon Dursley if I ever come across him."
"So when did you get all mature on me?" asked Harry. "Months ago you probably would've punched me right out when you found out about Hermione and I. But in St. Mungo's, you just… stood there. And you've been fairly laid back about it."
Ron looked uncomfortable. "Harry, this isn't going to sound nice."
"So? We're best mates, aren't we? It's not like I can't forgive you for it later."
Suddenly Ron became very interested in looking at the fabric of the sofa. "I don't like to admit it, but things don't look good. We don't have a clue what the missing Horcrux is, and as much as you've scared the piss out of Voldemort, who's to say how long he'll stay away? He could come knocking on the castle doors and we wouldn't have a hope in hell of getting rid of the wanker once and for all. And Harry… I don't like thinking this, but you could very well die. I overheard Shacklebolt saying to Dad that he thinks your chances are seventy-thirty of dying."
He raised his head to meet Harry's intense gaze.
"It's just hard to stay mad at you for anything when I think about it like that. You could die, I'll probably die, and Hermione could die… We could all die. I'd rather make the most of the time that I know we have left than spend it being pissed at you."
"We're not going to die, Ron." Said Harry with steel in his voice.
Ron shrugged as though he'd already accepted the possibility. "Harry, I don't need to remind you of all the people who've died because of Voldemort. We could die. I'm not saying we will, just that it's more than a possibility. It's reality. We've been fighting for our lives since we were eleven, but the battle could be any day now. I've made my peace with that."
Harry's expression softened as Ron's words rang true. It was highly likely that one, two, or all three of them could or would die in the final battle. Ron had a point. Make the most of the time you're certain you have left. "Live every day like it's your last," said Harry softly.
"Well, that's rather morbid," said Hermione, who had just returned through the portrait hole. "Do I even want to know what you two have been talking about?"
Harry shook his head. "Just guy stuff, love."
"What'd Doctor Lang want?" asked Ron.
"Professor McGonagall mentioned to him that I'd expressed an interest in obtaining a Muggle degree after Hogwarts, and he thought perhaps he could offer some advice on further education in both the magic and non-magical worlds. Also, I've had several chats with Madam Pomfrey over the last six years when you two were in hospital, and she thinks that I could do well as a Healer. Doctor Lang and I were just discussing that, and then we got into the concept of blending Muggle and magical technologies when it comes to healing."
Both boys blinked at her.
"Oh for heaven's sake. We talked about school and healing and medicine. Simple enough?"
Ron nodded. "Could've just said that in the first place, actually." He yawned, stretching his arms far over his head. "Guess I'd better get on up to the dorm. Dean and Seamus won't be pleased if I wake them up on my way back in."
"It's barely nine o'clock! They're sleeping already?" asked Hermione.
"Let's just say they had a not-so-pleasant run-in with my little sister earlier, and they're rather tired from the experience."
Harry and Hermione exchanged glances, remembering the earlier mention of Ron's concern for Ginny as of late.
"Well, g'night, mate." Said Harry as Hermione embraced Ron. He hefted his books into one arm and exited the portrait hole.
Harry turned to Hermione, and she came over to hug him tightly. "Your room?" she whispered.
He led her towards his bedroom, knowing that they'd both get a better night's sleep if they were together. "Promise me something, love?"
"Mhmm?" responded Hermione, rather sleepily.
"You'll tell me what's going on with Ginny and the Ferret in the morning?"
"Mmm," was Hermione's only response as she tumbled into Harry's bed, too sleepy to remove the clothing she'd donned to meet with Doctor Lang.
Crawling into bed beside her, Harry flicked his wand a few times and transfigured her jeans and sweater into something more comfortable to sleep in. He wrapped his arms around her and settled in for a night of dreamless sleep.
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