Unofficial Portkey Archive

Lazy Afternoons

Dedicated to my 2 doggies, Moose and Hunter, who I like a lot because they are pretty.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter of the rights to Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does, and she does not sit at her computer writing fanfiction. I do, however, and you will be forced to read whatever crap I dish out. I gain absolutely no, nada, zilch money from this work. I probably wont even gain credibility. I do not intend to infringe on any copyright set in place by Mrs. Rowling, herself, Bloomsbury books, Scholastic, or any other title holder/publisher. Please do not sue me. Please do not bite me. Please do not cut off all my limbs and hang me from a tree. It wouldn't be pleasant.

Chapter 1

They lied warmly in the each other's arms, content that the only heat reverberated was that of their embrace and not the blanket that had long since been discarded, much like their clothing. The sheets on the bed were mangled and wrinkled in many places, alluding to what had taken place between the two not only today, but on numerous other occasions in this very room.

The Head Boy room.

The little girl held the decidedly larger boy's weight on top of her and was clad in only the very skin that God had given her. He, on the other hand, wore his boxers (with something under those boxers…), and slowly brought his hand up to the woman's left breast and began to rub it coarsely.

The woman groaned but stayed still. She loved this game they played. He would try his very best to entice her to make the first move, and she would resist with all the willpower she could muster at that time, causing him to finally let lust overpower him.

Today, she didn't feel like waiting.

With the man still rubbing away with his left hand, the right propping himself up, as to take away some weight from her body, the lady masterfully pulled her foot from under him, without detection, and hooked it into the waistband of the last thing separating the two.

"Nu uh," the boy said, sitting up, allowing her to fully appreciate his rippling arms and chest, "that can be your second birthday present from me. I think I'll give you it later tonight."

The girl chuckled, "Oh Harry, I thought you'd forgotten."

"But then you'd have killed me, and we can't have that now, can we?"

It still surprised her of how a man, no, still a mere boy could joke about death so easily, seeing that it used to be an unwelcome, yet constant visitor. But ever since last month, no, she didn't really want to think about that on her birthday, well, her birthday party for that matter (her birthday was last Thursday, but she is celebrating it on a Saturday, being a Hogsmeade weekend).

"Well," she said slyly, "what's to stop you from giving me one of your special presents now, and one later?"

The devilish glint that came into Harry's eye could've been seen a mile away, were they outside in the streets (which would have been quite the predicament). He slowly and methodically inched his face toward hers, until only a few mere inches separated them, his face just above hers, and whispered sexily, "A fuck load of willpower," and with that he stood and began to dress himself.

The woman remained sitting for a second, processing what she had just been told. With a slightly downtrodden expression and a sigh, she too rose to her feet and scavenged the area for some clothes, noting to herself to restock the small stash she kept in his room, which was, in itself, silly, seeing that they resided right next to each other. "You are very cruel, did you know that?" she finally asked him, in an accusatory tone.

"You mean you don't know? You don't know!" he said in a dramic flair. He then adopted an all too familiar accent, jumped onto a chair next to him, pulled his discarded cloak over his face, and practically shouted, "I am the great Severus Snape in disguise! Mere mortals such at you must grovel, grovel damn you. Why aren't you groveling!? And why the hell wont Bumblebee make me the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? And why is my penis only three inches long? And why do I make passionate love to Professor Flirtwick at exactly 7:30 each night? And what's with my hair? Did a fucking gorilla strap me to a table and sploog all over it?" He finally dropped the accent. "That was a lot more difficult than it seemed, honey."

The room was silent.

Harry looked around for his girlfriend, but could see no one. "Hermione!" (A/N and finally we know who the girl is…as if we didn't already) he called out with some urgency. "Herm!" But still he heard nothing, no voice crying out, no frantic movement, and, thankfully, no howls of pain.

Harry hopped down from the chair he stood upon, and began to glance about the room in a hurried and obviously scared fashion. The bright lights in his room seemed to all dim, reminding him of the gloom of Azkaban, where he and ten of the top aurors in all of England assaulted, killing numerous death eaters and dementors alike. That was the first time Harry had killed anything human. Just thinking about that horrible winter night made him begin to hyperventilate. Short of breath, Harry fell to a knee and clenched his eyes, the attacker all but forgotten. He fought his way back up into the standing position, encouraged with the thought of Hermione in trouble on his mind.

"Petrificus Totalus!" A screech cried out from an unknown position in the room. Harry was able to stop the emotions currently taking hold within him, and, just in time, dove out of the spell's path and hid himself behind one of the large chairs that adorned his room. But right now he didn't have any time to admire the beauty that was the Head Boy lair; he was under attack and worse yet, he didn't know where Hermione had gotten off to! Harry, pulling forth what he learned from Alabastor and the three other aurors last summer at Gable Gulch, an isolated, former battlefield where he spent the summer before 7th year, Harry drew his wand, cleared his mind, and stopped himself from thinking about Hermione, seeing that doing so would only cause him to panic.

"Duplico Fererum," his whispered to himself, while pointing his wand toward his stomach. A small stream of yellow light seeped from the tip of his wand and permeated inside of him. About three seconds later, Harry's stomach began to rumble and moan, and an exact copy of Harry began to crawl head first out of his abdomen. Harry winced at the pain this was causing him, but a little pain for protection was certainly better than a painless death, he figured. Life was too good to die now, to die ever.

Harry had often mused about the thought of living forever with his friends and what would soon be his family. Though he knew it was wrong and could bring dire consequences about, he always had an egging feeling deep suppressed, a feeling- a hope, rather- to make another sorcerer's stone. Sure it was selfish, and he knew he wouldn't go through with it, but a guy can dream, can't he?

If a guy could dream, he'd better do it later, considering what could be a rogue death eater or crazed student somehow sneaked into his room- not the living quarters, not the common room, but his room, undetected.

The duplicate or "second" Harry had finally emerged from Harry's stomach, and it seemed to not be an exact copy, rather it had the same shape and form as the Boy Who Lived, but, upon closer inspection, it could be seen through. Not as much as a ghost, but it could still be seen through none-the-less.

"Go onto my bead and try to draw the, the thing's attention," he told the Spectral Harry in a voice a commander would use, and it immediately complied to his wishes, walking from behind the chair and toward the well lit bed, where only moments before, he and Hermione were delving into a rather exciting escapade. On it's way to the bed, however, the assailant took the bait and blasted the faux Harry with yet another body-bind spell, sending him to the ground.

"Haha, Gotcha Harry," a playful voice Harry should have recognized, would have recognized if the adrenaline in his veins didn't overpower him, called out.

But all nonviolent thought was discarded. Harry leapt from behind the chair he was currently using as shelter, perched on the hilt and roared out, "Stupefy!" Harry's voice seemed more like a grizzly bear than a kind 17-year-old boy, and the magnitude bounced off the walls.

The spell spiraled toward a vastly confused Hermione, who was hunched over the spot where "Harry" had fallen to her body bind, then immediately disappeared. The Stupefy curse Harry just fired was barely visible to the naked eye due to the tremendously deadly swiftness it sped at. The curse connected with Hermione's right ribcage, knocking her unconscious on contact, and the sheer power of the spell tossed her like a rag doll into a sidewall, a good 25 feet away. The limp body of the most brilliant girl in school cascaded downward to the ground after leaving a good dent in the wall, bringing a brightly embroidered, yellow and gold Griffindor tapestry to the ground with her.

In a panic, Harry sprinted toward the woman of his life, and, after a few minutes had passed, had healed her, woke her back up, and placed the tapestry back where it belonged. Of course he began to apologize for his stupidity.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, I'm so sorry, Herm. You scared the hell out of me, you know?" Harry continued to apologize to a rather shaken up Hermione.

"Harry," she placed her hand to his lips, "shut up." And with that he gave him a quick peck on the mouth, obviously meant to tease him. "Now are you happy that you took that magical healing course with Madam Pomfrey?

"Oh yes, being shrieked at by a damn fanatical hippo-like-woman for a double period sure did make my day, Herms, it sure did." Of all the teachers he loved at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, there were only a few he…detested. Those being the overzealous potions master, whom Harry rescued after Death Eaters discovered that he had been spying on them, via the Polyjuice potion. Harry had to admit that his information on He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was invaluable, but the things that man said about his late parents could have lead other men to leave his sorry carcass to die. The second teacher Harry harbored ill will toward was the psychotic nurse, and also the so-called seer, who he hadn't had to put up with since early 6th year, when he walked out of her class once and for all when, through reading the stars, she announced how Harry and Hermione were "linked." No one in the school about that, save for a choice few Griffindors Harry trusted, before Trewlney spilled the beans.

Aside from those he hated, the Head Boy had even grown to accept the overbearing deputy headmistress, still adored Dumbledore, and felt a sort of unexplainable to the seemingly callous Defense teacher: Moody.

"Yes, I always do know what is best for you, don't I?" Hermione responded with a quip of her own.

"That's why I love you," Harry said a bit sarcastically, gaining a bit of a giggle from Hermione. He wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her forth, closing the space between them. He relished holding her in this manner; all his troubles seemed to just float away.

"And this is why I love you," she said grabbing a hold of the front of Harry's jeans, surprising him with her boldness. Harry jumped a bit backward out of shock, before recovering and looking at her pretty, no, beautiful face. On it there laid a horny smirk, the smirk only he ever got to see. Harry stopped himself from succumbing to her naughtiness and composed himself before she thought anything was wrong.

"Didn't think the Head Girl was so shallow," Harry smirked. Hermione scoffed.

"And you said you'd never hurt me," she countered, but, after realizing what she had said, opened her mouth to make an apology. Harry talked first, however, and his words greatly relieved the anxiety-struck Hermione.

"Ahem, I didn't hurt you. The Stupefy curse knocks out its victims, mine just likes to throw them afterwards. So you never felt pain. Quit playing the sympathy card"! He said in a joking manner.

She replied with a McGonagall like yell, "Suck an egg, young Potter!"

In the same tone, Harry replied, "Suck on it, young Granger!"

"Well, if you insist…" she replied as seductively as possible, which was surprisingly very seductive. Harry could feel himself harden from their closeness and the entire mood of the room, which had thankfully changed.

"Why are you so horny today?" he asked his one true love.

She stared him in the eye, as if in disbelief (Which she probably was). "Why are you complaining?"

Were they under different circumstances, Harry would have taken her where she stood, without a second's hesitation, but, being her birthday, he wanted the day to be perfect. He couldn't ruin what he worked so hard to prepare for her.

"C'mon Herms, move, move, move! Get yourself dressed and we'll go to the common room.

Hermione smiled and realized that her Harry was absolutely horrible at staging a surprise party, but she'd at least pretend to be surprised. His naivety and purity had to have been key reasons as to why she loved him so much. He rarely spoke bad about anyone (except Snape), he never hurt anyone purposefully (except once when Malfoy kept badgering her and Harry decided to play knight-in-shining-armor. It was surprisingly funny to see Mr. Holier-Than-Thou Draco begging for mercy on his knees) She also loved that man because of his unfaltering loyalty (he had even forgiven Ron after he came back from the war zone where the final battle against Voldemort and his Death Eaters took place. Ron had openly accused him of being a terrible friend, a liar, and a glory hog, but Harry, her Harry, just told him to not worry about it). Harry never really told her much about that fateful day where he killed Voldemort, Pettigrew, and a number of countless other Death Eaters, but she'd often hear what had happened from his dreams and she didn't know how he coped. Most of all, however, she loved him because Harry loved her. Loved her for who she is, defends her from trouble, and even listens to her demanding cries of studying for the N.E.W.Ts rather than going out to Hogsmeade on a Sunday.

She loved him because he was a kind, loving, sweet Harry Potter, not because he was the powerful, unflinching, legendary hero Harry Potter.

But he still couldn't keep a surprise party secret!!!

Hermione would soon realize she couldn't be more wrong.

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