Wizard Gone Wild by canoncansodoff Rating: R Genres: Humor Relationships: Harry & Hermione Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6 Published: 12/10/2007 Last Updated: 08/05/2008 Status: In Progress Just another shameless plot device to make Harry and Hermione realize their feelings with the help of some bared skin...Yenta Tonks schemes when she's asked to provide the "entertainment" for the bachelorette party that Hermione is in charge of. 1. Chapter 1 ------------ Wizard Gone Wild **Disclaimer:** Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc. Harry Potter’s meditation on life, love, and the practicality of crotchless knickers was interrupted by the Leaky Caudron’s publican. “Another firewhiskey, Harry?” the bald-headed bartender shouted, over the thumping bass of dance music. The Boy-Who-Won shifted his gaze from the “entertainment” down to the empty glass in his hand. “No, thanks, Tom,” he replied loudly. The bartender nodded, then began to wipe down Harry’s table. The young wizard snorted at the sight, and then loudly asked, “Hey…why don’t you sit with me for a few minutes?” The barman gave him a curious look. “Thanks, Harry, but there’s the main bar to look after.” Harry leaned forward and said, “Have a seat, Tonks…Tom can handle the front room well enough on his own.” The metamorph froze, then let out a sigh as Harry pulled out a chair. She cast a silencing spell so that they could hear each other over the music, while he cast a *Muffliato* spell so that others could not. “What gave me away?” she asked, as she plopped down on the chair. Harry chuckled as he pointed towards the table. “Your bar rag.” “Really?” Tonks asked. “But Tom’s a squib… he always cleans tables that way.” “True enough, but never with a cloth that is half as clean as the one that you conjured.” The metamorph looked down at the rag and shook her head in disbelief. “So was it Susan or Hermione that sent you out on this little scouting trip?” Harry asked. “Hermione.” Harry nodded. “She’s going to be furious at Ron.” Tonks took a look towards the conjured stage and noted, “Not much he can do now, eh?” She then turned back and added, “Goes for you, too…you look bored…like you’ve seen it all before.” Harry nodded as he waved towards the stage. “That’s the thing, Tonks….thanks to the wizarding photographs that these three and nearly every other witch under the age of one-hundred and ten have sent me, I have.” “Oh…so you’re not interested?” Harry gave Tonks a slightly dismissive look. “You already know the answer to that question.” The metamorph smiled. “Yes, and I still can’t for the life of me understand why you don’t do something about it.” “My burning stake to bear, Tonks, not yours….you just pay heed to that promise.” “Yeah, yeah, yeah…no telling anyone that the ‘The-Boy-Who-Won’ fancies ‘The-Best-Friend-Who-Wants-Him’.” “She doesn’t see me that way,” Harry countered. “I’m just the brother she never had.” “You’re wrong, Harry…she’d jump at the chance to see you…see all of you.” “Tonks…just mind your promise.” The disguised Auror stood. “Okay, Unrequited-Loverboy,” she said, as Harry cancelled the privacy spells. “I’ll hold my tongue…just so long as you know that I think she’d be willing to hold your tongue…anywhere that you’d care to place it.” Harry shook his head. “Go back and report your findings, Auror Tonks…I’ll stay here and make sure that Neville stays out of too much trouble.” Tonks gave Harry’s shoulder a squeeze, then disapparated wearing a bemused expression on her face. +++ “Strippers? Are you sure?” “Saw them with my own eyes, Hermione,” Tonks replied, yelling over the music. “Well, actually I was borrowing Tom the bartender’s eyes, but you know what I mean.” Hermione slammed her empty glass down on the table and fumed, catching the attention of all of the other witches that were partying in The Three Broomsticks’ private room. “Why that lying sack of salamander shi…wait ‘till I get my hands on him…” “Oy, Hermione, why are your knickers in a twist?” asked Ginny, as she filled Hermione’s glass with another shot of liquid lightning. “Were you thinking that the boys would be playing exploding snap tonight?” Hermione looked down at her glass and swore again. “Your wandhead brother and I made a deal when we set these parties up,” Hermione replied. “No strippers.” “Oh, so that’s why this party is so boring,” sighed Lavender Brown. “Was it anyone that we know?” Tonks thought for a second. “Well, I’m pretty sure that they…” “They?” exclaimed Hermione. “You mean there was more than one?” “Oh yeah,” said Tonks. “Three of them. They were all a couple of years older than you guys, I think…I overheard Ron bragging about how he’d talked them into it. Said that they were members of the Harry Potter Fan Club, and that he’d guaranteed that if they’d strip that Harry would be there drunk off his arse.” “So was he?” asked Hermione. “Erm…yes and no,” Tonks replied. “He was there in the back of the room, but not quite drunk off his arse…I think he was pretty embarrassed by the whole deal…spent most of the time staring into his glass of firewhisley.” “What about Neville?” Susan asked quietly, as she nervously joined the conversation. “Don’t worry, Susan,” Tonks assured her, “your fiancé was a nearly-perfect gentleman.” “Nearly perfect?” “Well, he did have a front-row seat,” Tonks replied, “but only because the Twins stole his wand and placed a sticking charm on the back of his trousers.” “I should have known,” said Padma, as she punched her sister’s arm, “that your husband would be involved.” “My husband?” exclaimed Parvarti. “Your husband’s the corrupting older influence.” “Oh yeah, older by all of fifteen minutes.” “Oh, quit bickering,” said Hermione, “this is all my fault, I should have never trusted Ron. I’m so sorry, Susan…I’ve been absolutely pants organizing your bachelorette party, and now it’s too late to do anything about it.” “What do you mean, it’s too late?” Ginny asked. “I mean it’s too late for me to line up some equivalent male entertainment,” Hermione said. “Why is that?” Lavender asked. “Because, you silly…” Hermione bit her tongue. “Do you realize just how hard it is to find a wizard stripper? It’s why Ron and I made the pact to begin with…but then he has to go and get all Slytherin on me…” “Well, we could always go to a muggle male strip club,” Ginny volunteered. “Blech,” chimed in Luna, having recently returned from the lavatory. “Don’t you know that those places are crawling with hopaling larvae? You don’t want one of those crawling up you leg and bedding down someplace moist for the next century, do you?” “Luna,” said Hermione, “That sounds a bit far-fetched, even for you.” “So are you going to risk it?” asked Susan. “Hell, no.” replied Hermione. “Skepticism and caution are not mutually exclusive personality traits.” “So that leaves us with one boring, unfairly tame bachelorette party,” said Lavender. “Pass the veggie dip.” “You know, Hermione,” Tonks said, “this is really all my fault. I should have never let you guys convince me to spy on their party in the first place.” “Now, Tonks…” “No, it’s true. You’d think by now I’d know enough not to abuse my metamorph skills.” She took a long pull on her drink. “Well, I’ll just have to promise my self, once again, to turn over a new leaf.” “You’re right, Tonks,” Lavender said with a mischievous grin on her face. “It *is* your fault. But you can make up for it if you wear that leaf before you turn it over.” “What?” asked Susan, a bit confused. “I’m saying,” Lavender replied, “that Tonks has it within her to help Hermione even the score.” “Oooh, Lavender, I like the way your devious mind operates,” said Ginny. “I don’t,” Tonks interjected. “You want me to morph male and strip for you, don’t you?” “Well, it technically wouldn’t be you stripping, now, would it?” Padma said. “What do you mean…of course it would,” said Tonks. “Every square inch of skin I’d be showing would be mine, even if it were stretched over a male form.” “Oh, Tonks, don’t be such a party pooper,” Luna said. “We’re all friends, right?” “Yeah, Tonks, it’s not like you’d be doing it before complete strangers.” “And that’s supposed to make me feel better, somehow?” “Look at it this way,” Ginny chimed back in. “Have your undercover operations ever involved pretending to be a man?” “Erm, yeah…of course,” Tonks replied. “How do you think I was just able to crash Neville’s bachelor party?” “Oh, yeah, forgot about that.” Ginny said. “So, during this time pretending to be a man have you ever had to demonstrate that you were…how should I say it…anatomically correct?” “Well…yes.” Tonks admitted. “Alright, then,” said Lavender. “Think of this as job-training. Oh, and spill it, girlfriend.” “Erm, no thanks,” Tonks said. “Some things are just way too….erm, secret. It was an undercover operation, after all.” “Oooh, I smell a juicy scandal,” said Lavender. “Tell you what, Tonks,” Ginny said. “We’ll give you a choice. Either you show us every inch of the man you had to be, or we’ll force you to tell us just why you had to wave a willy on the job.” “Bollocks,” said an exasperated Tonks. “I need another drink.” She drained her glass almost as quickly as Ginny had filled it, with chants of “*Tonks! Tonks! Tonks!”* ringing in her ears. She then put the glass down and looked around the room. She smiled weakly, as her body started to grow taller. And less curvier. And harder. And the crowd went wild. By the time she was finished morphing Tonks was a six-foot two, 16 stone male hard-body, with a devilishly handsome, clean-shaven face framed by curly black hair. “Hey,” shouted Hermione above the shouts and wolf whistles, “I’ve seen that face before…” “Well I know where I’d like to see that face,” Lavender quipped, as she spun around on her barstool and spread her legs suggestively. “Do you remember, Hermione,” Tonks asked, “that Italian who painted Headmistress’s portrait couple year’s back?” “Of course…how could I ever forget Antonio?” Hermione replied. “Wait,” Ginny said, “don’t tell me that Antonio was really Tonks in disguise, waving her wand around?” “Oh, no, no…” Tonks replied. “There really was a Antonio …still is a Antonio, I imagine, unless some cuckolded wizard *Reducto*’d his arse.” “But since he’s in Italy, rather than in England,” Hermione reasoned, “there is less chance that you’d run into the original whilst undercover?” “Exactly.” “Enough talk!” Lavender exclaimed, “It’s time to get this show started!” More cheers erupted, as tables and chairs were cleared from one end of the room. Susan was forced to take a seat directly in front of the open space, while Hermione helped Tonks transfigure her robes into a costume appropriate for a man about to lose his costume. The bride-to-be broke into a fit of giggles and started to squirm, once Tonks started to dance in front of her. A quick sticking charm ensured she wasn’t going to squirm *out* of that chair. +++ Fifteen minutes later, a sweaty “Antonio” was transfiguring “his” g-string into a towel as Lavender opined, “Well that was rather…underwhelming.” “What?” said Tonks. “Didn’t like my moves?” “Oh, no, the dancing was fantastic,” Lavender replied. “It’s what the dancing *revealed* that was a little disappointing.” “Key word being ‘little,’” added a giggling Susan. “Couldn’t you have provided ‘him’ with a few…erm, enhancements?” Tonks shook her head with a grin. “Sorry, girls, but I take pride in my work. Each disguise is anatomically correct and perfectly proportioned.” “Oh, is that so?” asked Hermione brightly. “And how exactly did you come to know Antonio’s proportions?” “Antonio’s” cheeks turned red as Tonks flustered out a reply. “Never you mind, Hermione.” “Oooh, I smell another smutty story,” exclaimed Ginny. “Do tell, Tonks.” “I don’t think so.” “Well I do,” Ginny replied. “Give you a choice…either tell the truth or put on another show.” “Since when did this become a game of ‘Truth or Dare’?” “Okay, okay…just give us another dance.” “What, haven’t you seen enough?” “No ‘Antonio’,” Parvati snarked, “you didn’t have *nearly* enough to show us.” “Yeah, Tonks,” Ginny added. “After all, you did say the boys had three dancers, didn’t you?” A chorus of “*Tonks! Tonks! Tonks*!” once again filled the room. With a deep sigh, Tonks reluctantly agreed. “Okay, okay…one more dance,” she stated. “But only one more.” “And we get to choose the dancer?” Tonks sighed. “Fine, your choice.” “Fair enough,” said Hermione, thinking on her slightly inebriated feet. “I say the honor should go to the wizard who should by rights be doing it himself, that no-good liar.” “Oh, I love that idea,” said Padma as she walked over to the music player, “Hey Tonks, what kind of music do you want to get Ron naked to?” “Hold on,” said Ginny, “As much as my brother deserves it, I really don’t want to see his naked body gyrating in front of me.” “I agree,” quipped Lavender. “Especially if size is an issue.” “Too much information!” Ginny cried out. “So that rules out Fred or George?” asked Susan. Padma and Parvati looked at each other, then burst into giggles. “What?” “Well, if being a Weasley rules them out, then yes, it can’t be Fred or George,” said Parvati. “Not that they don’t meet the other, erm…*minimum* requirements,” added Padma with a smile. Ginny covered her ears with her hands and shouted, “La-La-La I can’t hear you!” “What about Harry?” asked Lavender. “What about Harry?” Hermione quickly replied. “He’s not the one causing trouble.” “No, he isn’t,” Ginny replied with a smile. “But he’s not a Weasley, and he is, well…” “The-Boy-Who-Dampens-Your-Knickers?” asked Lavender saucily. “Oh, like you haven’t had the hots for him since Fourth Year,” Parvati quipped. Tonks didn’t like the idea of imitating her friend very much at all, although she was pleased to see that Hermione had suddenly turned all quiet and nervous. *“Wonder if she’s being a protective sister, or a jealous wannabe-girlfriend?”* the Auror thought to herself. “Sorry, ladies, but I refuse to dance as Harry unless I can give an exacting performance,” she stated. “And as I’ve never seen Harry Potter in the nude before...” Lavender Brown smiled as she turned towards Ginny and pointedly stated, “Oh, I’m sure that at least *one* of us could help you get Harry’s measurements right, eh girls?” All eyes turned towards Ginny, who, much to everyone’s surprise, turned beet red as she shook her head. “Sorry, but Harry and I we never got that far.” “That’s not what you told us!” Parvati exclaimed. “Yeah, well, I’m not going to lie about it now,” Ginny replied. “Right, then,” said Tonks, “it’ll have to be somebody else.” “Too bad,” said Susan. “I always did have a soft spot in my heart for him.” “More like a wet spot further down,” Parvati whispered to her sister. “No worries, Susan,” Ginny replied. “It’s not like he could have measured up, anyway.” “I thought you didn’t know?” asked Hermione, who was taken aback by Ginny’s comment. “Merlin knows I tried to find out,” Ginny replied sharply. “He probably just didn’t want to reveal his inadequacies to me.” *“More like he didn’t want to let Ginny sink her harpy-like claws into him,”* thought Tonks. Hermione’s face flushed at her friend’s cattiness. “Ginny Weasley, you should be ashamed of yourself…Harry has nothing to be ashamed about. Quite the opposite, actually.” “Oh, like you’d know, Hermione,” Ginny snarked. “As a matter of fact…” Hermione started to say. She then caught herself, but not before everyone turned towards her. “You were saying?” asked Padma. Hermione let out an audible growl, then replied, “As a matter of fact, I *do* know that Harry Potter could quite easily meet the desired size requirements.” You could have heard a pin drop, were it not for the music playing. Then all hell broke loose. The shouts of surprise and skepticism required an explanation. “It was an accident,” Hermione explained. “We were camping in that tent, and it was quite small, and….” “What was small, Harry’s wand or the tent?” “Like I said…Harry has more than enough wand to make a witch happy.” “Well, then,” said Lavender brightly. “I’m sure you can help Tonks with her transformation.” The chanting started up again, only this time it was *“Harr-y! Harr-y! Harr-y!”* Tonks morphed back into her base form, grabbed Hermione by the arm, and dragged her towards the Witch’s lav. Once they were alone and the proper silencing charms had been applied, Tonks shouted, “What in Merlin’s name were you thinking?” Hermione winced. “I don’t know, Tonks…I don’t know…I was just so mad at Ginny for talking about Harry that way, or maybe it was the firewhiskey talking, or…” “Or maybe you were a jealous bint who couldn’t keep her secret crushes to herself?” After a few quiet moments, Hermione admitted, “Maybe.” “Well, a fine way you have of showing that you fancy him,” snarked Tonks. “Where in the manual for brightest witches of their generation does it state that the best way to show that you fancy a bloke is to arrange for his bits to be put on public display?” “Oh I know, it sounds horrible…what are we going to do?” Tonks thought about things for a minute, before reaching a decision. “What we are going to do, Hermione, is get Harry’s measurements right,” she finally said. “What?” “You aren’t going to let Ginny get away with her rants, are you?” asked Tonks. “We are going to show that little witch just what she’s missing now that she’s shagging Dean Thomas.” “We are?” “Yes, Hermione, and I do mean *we*.” “What am I going to do?” Tonks gave Hermione an evil grin as she morphed into a near-perfect rendition of Harry wearing witch’s robes. She dropped the robes to the ground and said. “First, you’re going to help me fill in the missing details. Second, you’re going to leave this room and let me figure out an appropriate costume. And third…” “Third?” asked Hermione. “Third, when Harry Potter prances out of this loo and starts to strip you are going to damn well show the others how you really feel about him.” “But…but…” “You got us into this mess, Hermione, now it’s my turn to get us out.” Hermione swallowed visibly, then nodded in acquiescence. Tonks began to adjust her body shape. “Now say when, Hermione,” she instructed, as certain bits begin to lengthen. +++ Once Hermione rejoined the other witches, Tonks quickly donned her robes, morphed back into Tom’s form, and apparated to the Leaky Cauldron. Harry was still examining the bottom of his firewhiskey glass. “Oy, Potter…you need to make a trip to the loo!” Harry looked up at “Tom,” and recognizing Tonks asked, “I do?” “Yes, you do…follow me.” The-Boy-Who-Won followed the Auror into the Wizard’s Loo, where, once they helped Colin scourgify vomit from his robes, they were alone. “Alright, Harry, I’ll need to side-along you to The Three Broomsticks.” “Thanks, Tonks, but I’m not that drunk…I know the coordinates.” “Not to the Witch’s Lav, you don’t,” Tonks said with an evil grin. She grabbed hold of his arm and spirited them away before Harry had time to ask for an explanation. At least until they arrived at their destination. “Tonks, what are you on about?” he demanded. “Just helping you realize the truth, Harry,” she replied with a grin. She morphed into Harry’s twin and began to strip. “Take off those robes, Harry, we need to get you into your costume.” “My costume?” Harry asked. “Once again, Tonks…what are you on about?” Tonks paused just as her thumbs dug underneath the straps of the silver-sequined g-string that she was wearing. “You said that Hermione only sees you like a brother, right?” she asked. “Well, Harry, you’ve got a golden opportunity to test that hypothesis.” Harry’s eyes narrowed, as the chant of *“Harr-y! Harr-y! Harr-y!”* carried through the lavatory’s walls. *“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,”* he thought, as Tonks handed him the thong. +++ **A/N:** It’s a dreary fall day, “Gladiator Sweat” is complete, and the muse was demanding something randier than what’s allowed under “Muggle Summer’s” rating. This will be a two-shot, unless the plot bunnies attack (as they are wont to do). Suggestions on dance music and costuming for Harry’s upcoming show are welcomed. 2. Chapter 2 (of 3) ------------------- **Wizard Gone Wild** **A/N:** This is part 2 (of 3) of a bawdy plot bunny that struck me a few months back. It’s intended to be a harmless piece of humor, and readers will do well to treat it as they do cotton candy (or candy floss, as they call it over the pond). You’ll only hurt yourself if you insist on thinking about this story and its canon non-compliance, so don’t. That said, the story necessarily ignores DH….except for the part where the trio hides in a magic tent, and the part where Ron is a git and leaves the other two alone. **Disclaimer:** Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc. **Previously, on “Wizard Gone Wild”:** *“Alright, Harry, I’ll need to side-along you to The Three Broomsticks.”* *“Thanks, Tonks, but I’m not that drunk…I know the coordinates.”* *“Not to the Witch’s Lav, you don’t,” Tonks said with an evil grin.* *She grabbed hold of his arm and spirited them away before Harry had time to ask for an explanation. At least until they arrived at their destination.* *“Tonks, what are you on about?” he demanded.* *“Just helping you realize the truth, Harry,” she replied with a grin. She morphed into Harry’s twin and began to strip. “Take off those robes, Harry, we need to get you into your costume.”* *“My costume?” Harry asked. “Once again, Tonks…what are you on about?”* *Tonks paused just as her thumbs dug underneath the straps of the silver-sequined g-string that she was wearing.* *“You said that Hermione only sees you like a brother, right?” she asked. “Well, Harry, you’ve got a golden opportunity to test that hypothesis.”* *Harry’s eyes narrowed, as the chant of “Harr-y! Harr-y! Harr-y!” carried through the lavatory’s walls.* *“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” he thought, as Tonks handed him the thong.* **Chapter Two** Harry Potter’s eyes shifted from the sequined g-string that Tonks had placed in his hands to the male bits that Tonks had placed on her body. “Tonks!” “Yes, Harry.” “Why are you pretending to be a naked me in a witch’s lav?” “Because your mate is a git that broke his word about strippers at Neville’s bachelor party,” the metamorph replied. That didn’t make much sense to the young wizard, but the more pressing issue associated with the chants bleeding through the doorway. “And what do my bits have to do with that?” “Well, the girls made a request to see a certain wizard’s wand.” Harry blanched. “Merlin’s testicles!” “No,” Tonks quipped, as she glanced down at her crotch. “They’re supposed to be yours.” With a full-body shudder, Harry said, “This is freaking me out, Tonks…can you change back to how you normally look?” “Sure,” Tonks said, with a shrug of her shoulders. The metamorph’s green eyes sparkled as she morphed back her “standard” form, along with the rest of her body. “Tonks!” yelled Harry, trying hard not to focus on the pink pubes and ample breasts that “he” had just grown. “Yes, Harry?” “When I asked you to change back to yourself, I figured that clothes would be part of the deal!” “But why?” she asked, with her hands on her hips, and a smile on her lips. “If I get to not only see you naked, but *be* you naked, it wouldn’t be polite for me not to do the same for you.” “Arghh!” Harry cried, as he cast his eyes towards the ground and slipped his robes over her head. Holding them out towards the Auror, he said, “Here, take these…Remus would kill me if he knew.” The metamorph’s real eyes flared with a touch of anger. “Don’t you think that Remus is too busy ogling those bare-arsed witches back at the Leaky Cauldron to notice?” Harry pursed his lips into a silent O. “Thought you might not have seen him earlier.” “Well, you thought wrong,” Tonks replied. “There, I’m covered up…you can look again.” “Thanks,” Harry replied. “So what the hell is going on, then?” “I told you,” Tonks replied. “When Hermione and the others found out about the strippers, they wanted equal footing. But there weren’t any real wizard strippers to be had, so they asked me to pretend.” “Pretend to be a wizard and strip down starkers?” “Well, that’s what was happening at the stag party, right?” “Pretend to be *Harry Potter* and strip down starkers?” Tonks shrugged her shoulders. “It was a fair vote…you won.” “And I don’t hold veto power?” “Do you want to hold that power?” “Of course! Why wouldn’t I?” “Because it’s your chance to see that I’m right about Hermione’s feelings for you.” Harry growled in response. “Let me get this straight. You agreed to pretend to be me and wave my bits in front of my female friends and former classmates, and now you’re asking me to step in and show them the real deal in order for Hermione’s true feelings for me to be revealed?” “That’s the gist of it.” Harry shook his head in amazement. “So how was it that…..no, before we go any further I’ve got a different question. How were you able to get the bits right?” “They are right, then?” Tonks asked. “Wow, I thought she must have been doing some wishful thinking.” “Thought who was doing wishful thinking?” “Erm….apparently the only witch here who could speak with authority on the issue.” “But who? I mean…Ginny and I never got that far!” “Yeah, she told us…good on you for that, by the way.” “Erm, thanks, I guess,” Harry replied. “But who, then?” Tonks smiled. “She said something about being cooped up in a small tent.” Harry’s eyes went wide at the statement. “You stay right there!” he ordered, then walked over to the lavatory door and pulled it opened. The roar that burst forth from the darkened room overwhelmed the loud dance rhythm. *“Harr-y! Harr-y! Harr-y!”* The Boy-Who-Was-Livid was overwhelmed not just by the noise, but by the heat and the smells. But mostly it was the sight of a hundred or more chanting, sweaty witches, pumping their fists in the air within a magically expanded room. The music suddenly changed from an anonymous house tune to the down-and-dirty beat of Rick James’s “Superfreak.” “Hold on, hold on,” Harry yelled, raising his arms above his head. “Hermione Granger, front and center!” The chanting dropped into dissonant murmurs as Hermione pushed to the front of the crowd. “What’s wrong, Tonks?” she asked. Taking in the rather pedestrian “costume” that the presumed metamorph was wearing, she asked, “Did you need help with the outfit, or something?” Harry reached out a roughly took hold of her arm. “Yeah, that’s exactly right,” he said sharply, as he dragged her back towards the lavatory. “Erm..we’ll be right back ladies,” she promised, as she tried to figure out what was wrong. As soon as the door slammed behind her, Hermione protested. “What’s going on, Tonks?” “That’s what I’d like to know,” Harry replied. He then pointed across the room and said, “And I’m Harry, by the way…that’s Tonks over there.” Eyebrows arched as Hermione looked over her shoulder. “Oh, bugger!” “You’ve got that right,” Harry quipped. “Harry, I can’t believe you just did that!” Tonks cried. “You’ve gone and messed up everything!” “I’ve messed up everything?” Harry asked. “I’m not the one trying get me to pretend to be you pretending to be me as I flash a crowd of hundreds of witches!” “Hundreds?” asked Tonks. “But there were only a dozen out there a few minutes ago!” “Yeah, about that…” Hermione said nervously. “Turns out that a few of the witches floo’ed their friends with the news, and those friends floo’ed a few others, and….well, next thing you know….” “Front page of the *Daily Prophet*?” “Absolutely not,” Hermione replied firmly. “We made sure to confiscate all recording devices at the front gate.” “Front gate?” asked Harry. “You make it sound like you’re charging admission to a show.” “Erm, yeah…that’s another thing,” said Hermione. “The bar bill was getting a bit out of control, so…” Harry shook his head and sighed. “Well it’s not like it was really going to be you stripping,” Hermione said defensively. “That’s not what Tonks was scheming,” Harry replied. “She wasn’t?” asked Hermione. She turned towards the suddenly nervous Auror. “She told me that I needed to pretend that it really was you.” “Well, listen to that crowd,” Tonks said nervously. “Reckon it’s time I go out there and calm them down.” “You’ll likely do the opposite, I imagine,” Harry observed. “But you’re not going anywhere until we sort this all out.” “But…..okay, how about this?” Tonks asked. “We make it a two-part show. I’ll go out there and tease them…strip down just to my shorts. Meanwhile, you two can stay here and sort out all of these *Emotions-Which-Must-Not-Be-Named*.” “And then what?” Tonks shrugged. “Play it by ear, I guess. I’ll come back here to change costumes, and maybe change places.” She morphed back into Harry’s form, keeping the robes that he had lent her. “Hermione, you really are better at transfiguration than I am,” she said. “Think you can change this into a Gryffindor school uniform?” Hermione rolled her eyes and looked towards Harry. “What do you think?” “I don’t know what to think,” he replied. “C’mon, Harry, if not for yourself and Hermione, let me do this for Susan,” Tonks said. “And for the kids,” added Hermione. “What kids?” Harry asked. Hermione smiled. “Well, you see…I thought we could give all of the profits to the War Orphan’s Relief Fund.” Harry snorted. “Pulling my opinion of this scheme to the positive side of the ledger by pulling at my heartstrings?” “Maybe,” Hermione replied. “It was Daphne Greengrass’s idea, actually.” “Figured it would be a Slytherin,” Harry snarked. The young wizard looked first at Hermione, then at Tonks. “I should know better,” he stated, as he reached into a pocket and retrieved the sequined g-string that Tonks had given him. Tossing it back towards the metamorph, he said, “You probably should have this on first.” Tonks smiled as she stepped into the skimpy garment, then stilled herself for Hermione’s handiwork. The rather plain dark green robes that Harry had worn to the stag party were transformed into a red and gold trimmed uniform. The Auror nodded in appreciation, then made two steps towards the door. “Wait!” Hermione called out, as she transfigured a metal hand towel rack into a pair of horned-rimmed glasses. Handing them to Tonks, she said, “If you’re going to do this, might as well do it right.” After a few more waves of her wand, she pronounced Tonks good to go. “What else did you just do?” the Auror asked. “I strategically transfigured some of the seams from cloth to paper,” Hermione replied. “Should make it easier for you to rip off the sleeves and trouser legs during the show” Tonks’s eyes brightened. “What a brilliant idea!” she said, as she bounced out the door. “Yeah, brilliant,” Harry echoed sarcastically. **oo00OO00oo** Now that he was alone with Hermione, Harry could have used the time to get to the heart of whether she had more than sisterly feelings towards him. Unfortunately, he had another question that practically leapt from his lips. “When?” Hermione turned to Harry and replied, “When what?” “When did you get to be such an expert on the size and shape of my bits?” The young witch chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before replying. “You don’t want to know, Harry.” “Why do you say that?” he asked sharply. “Why wouldn’t I want to know the details?” “Because you didn’t want to know them at the time.” “At the time?” Harry asked. “I certainly don’t remember a time where you saw me naked.” “Erm, yeah…about that,” Hermione replied. “You didn’t want to remember, so you…well, I think it’s time for the letter.” “Letter?” “Yes,” Hermione replied, punctuating her decision with a nod of her head. “Call for Dobby and ask for the letter you gave him that was addressed to, erm…” “Addressed to whom?” “Well, you thought it would be funny to address it to *The-Boy-Who-Wanked*.” Harry’s cheeks flushed at the implication, and his voice cracked as he called out for his favorite house-elf. Dobby popped into the lavatory in a flash, asking, “What can Dobby do for the great Harry Potter and his Miss Hermione?” Harry dropped down to one knee to get to his friend’s eye level. “Dobby, did I ask you to hold a letter for me that was addressed to *The Boy-Who-Wanked*?” The house-elf’s eyes went even wider than normal as he nodded affirmatively. “Yes, Mr. Harry Potter, Sir, you did.” “Can you get that letter for me, then?” The house-elf nodded once more, then popped out of the room. Two seconds later he returned with a muggle-style envelope that he nervously placed in Harry’s hands. “Well, if the Great Harry Potter, Sir not be needing Dobby, Dobby be leaving now….” “Just a minute, Dobby,” Harry said. “I might have some more questions after I read this.” The house-elf shared a look of fright with Hermione, then turned back and said, “Dobby will stay.” “Thanks,” Harry replied, as he examined the envelope front. Sure enough, *“To the Boy-Who-Wanked ”* was written there, in ball-point-pen ink and in his own handwriting. He quickly ripped open the envelope and read the letter that it contained. +++ October 24, 1997 Dear Future Me, First off…authentication. You know and I know that we’ve never told anyone about the pair of Hermione’s knickers that we liberated from her wash at the Burrow. Especially after we pranked Ron and transfigured a pair of his shorts to look like Hermione’s and stuffed them under his mattress. Ah, fun times…especially when an anonymous tipster pointed her in the right direction. But enough about happy memories…time to talk about more recent embarrassing ones. If you are reading this letter, then the inevitable has happened and you’re wondering why Hermione has some first-hand knowledge of *Harry Jr*. Well, it’s my (your) own fault, you wanker…and I mean that in a literal sense. Thirty minutes ago, Hermione accidentally walked into the magical tent’s bathroom while I was rubbing one off in the shower. Pretty embarrassing, huh? At least I wasn’t moaning her name at the time. So she freaked out, and I freaked out, and things got pretty crazy there for a moment once I wrapped myself in a towel and we talked about it. We both agreed that it would be best to forget that it ever happened, but it’s not like we can obliviate each other of the same memory. So I volunteered to be the one obliviated. Why? You know damn well why, Potter …turnabout is fair play. At least I hope you still know damn well why…that’s the kind of wank memory that deserves to be held for a lifetime. I’d sign off saying *Love, Harry*, but that would be rather narciss….narc…damn, I’d ask her how to spell that word, but then she’d ask to revise the entire letter. Enough said. Harry +++ As he finished off the letter, The-Boy-Who-Wanked couldn’t help but laugh. “What’s so funny?” Hermione asked. Harry shook his head. “Nothing…I was amusingly self-deprecating.” “Really?” asked Hermione. “Let me see.” “No way,” he replied reflexively. “Read your own.” “What?” Hermione asked. “What do you mean, ‘read your own’?” “Oops!” Harry replied. “Oh no…Harry, please don’t tell me that I also needed to write a letter like that!” Harry snorted. “Okay, I won’t tell you that you also needed to write a letter like that.” “Really?” the bushy-haired witch wondered. Shrugging his shoulders, Harry replied, “Did I accidentally also erase the memory of just how small that tent was?” Hermione closed her eyes and winced in embarrassment. “Dobby?” “Yes, Miss Hermione?” “Are you holding a letter for me that is addressed to ‘The-Girl-Who-Wanked’?” Dobby shook his head very seriously. “No, Miss Hermione, the only letter I’m holding for you is addressed to the ‘*Trimmed Cat Scratcher*.” “Oh, no!” That pronouncement generated an even louder snort from Harry. “So that’s why you wouldn’t let me see the envelope cover!” **oo00OO00oo** Any chance for Hermione to confirm Harry’s allegations by reading her retrieved letter was dashed by the shortness of the original, unmixed version of “Super Freak”…not that three minutes and twenty seconds wasn’t enough time for Tonks to whip the crowd of witches into a pheromone-addled frenzy. The metamorph burst into the room along with a deafening crowd noise and several groping hands. “Back…get back…there will be more,” a g-string wearing Tonks cried out, as several witches tried to follow her into the lavatory. “Let me help you with that last bit of string, Harry!” cried out a familiar looking witch. From the corner of the lavatory, Harry pulled his wand and magically aided the door closing effort. “Whew!” cried out “Harry” as she fanned her flushed face with her hand. “You really should have been out there protecting your turf, Hermione.” “Tonks?” asked Harry. “Yes, Harry?” “Was that Hestia Jones offering to help with your attire?” “Yes, I think it was, actually.” “And does she know that it’s really you pretending to be me?” “Didn’t have the chance to ask.” “Hermione?” Harry asked. “Oh, that’s right…Hermione?” asked Tonks, as she stepped over to the washbasin and splashed water on her face and bared chest. “As I stepped offstage, Lavender said that they needed your help…something about installing stadium seating so that those in the back can see.” Harry and Hermione swore for different reasons. “Merlin, I step out for a few minutes,” she muttered. She then turned to Harry and said, “This shouldn’t take long, then I’ll be right back and we’ll settle things.” “Don’t think you have a few more minutes,” said Harry. “Actually, she does,” said Tonks, who seemed to be enjoying herself far too much as she sprayed water on the g-string wearing form of the Boy-Who-Lived. “Since they had to settle out the seating, I said that I was going back to my flat to get some special accessories for my next act…or your next act, I guess.” “What kind of accessories?” Tonks grinned. “My broomstick…everyone was yelling for me to come back wearing your Quidditch robes.” “Oh, Merlin,” Harry lamented. “I’ll be right back,” Hermione promised. As she left the lavatory, Tonks promised the same. “What, you’re going to leave me here all alone?” asked Harry. “What…a roomful of witches is more terrifying than Voldemort?” asked Tonks. “No, but….won’t some of them need to use the toilet?” “We’ve got that covered,” Tonks replied. “The Patil twins are passing out *“You-Can-Poo-in-Public”* pots from the Twin’s shop. Harry rolled his eyes. Tonks smiled. “So were you two able to reveal your mutual love and lust for the other while I was gone?” Harry shook his head. “Just go, Tonks…I need a few minutes alone to sort this all out.” The metamorph smiled as she unhooked the g-string she was wearing. “Here, then,” she said, offering the bit of cloth to Harry. “You’ll need to pretend to be me while I’m gone.” “Great,” the young wizard replied. His attention was then shifted to a red mark on Tonks’s version of his bum. “Oy, Tonks…do I want to know why there are teeth-marks on your arse?” The metamorph smiled coyly, and just before apparating away replied, “Probably not.” Harry sighed as he cast his strongest locking charm on the lavatory door, then looked down at the sweat-drenched g-string. Not ready to consider whether this body fluid was more his than Tonks, he took care to *Scourgify* the garment before he slipped out of his clothes and stepped into the few square inches of sequins and string. Harry was in the middle of adjusting to the uncomfortable feeling of string between his cheeks when he heard a loud knock on the door. “Open up, Tonks,” yelled Susan Bones, “I need to pee!” *“Oh, Merlin,”* thought Harry. *“What do I do now?”* “Tonks, I mean now!” “I’m busy peeing myself right now, Susan,” he called back, “Use one of the Patil’s pots.” “You know I’ve got a phobia about using chamber pots, Tonks,” the young witch replied. “Please, let me in!” “Hang on,” he called out, thinking furiously about what to do. Last thing he needed was to be caught by Tonks, or Hermione, or Neville (for that matter) in that kind of situation. When Susan forced the issue with an *Alohamora* spell that caught Harry by surprise, he rushed into an open stall. Lacking time to cast a locking charm on the stall door, the only thing he could think to do was turn his back to Susan’s entrance and pretend to pee as she rushed into the room and hiked her robes in the adjacent stall. “*Merlin,* Tonks, that was close…I was afraid that I was going to wet myself,” said Susan, once the immediate pressure had been released. “Even more than you already had?” “Ha-ha, very funny...you know, it’s weird…you sound just like Harry as well.” “Erm…I can change the shape of my vocal cords,” Harry offered. “If I couldn’t I’d always sound like a witch even when I was holding a male form.” “Oh, that makes sense” “So…how did you get past my locking charm?” Harry asked. “That was an Auror-level block.” Susan snorted. “The real Harry once said during a DA meeting that magical power is driven mostly by intent…and I really needed to go…oh and Tonks, nice arse.” Harry winced, realizing that by turning his back he’d exposed his bared bum to the room. Desperately trying to remember that he was supposed to be Tonks, he replied, “Thanks…I’ll pass that along to Harry next time I see him.” “You’ll do no such thing,” Susan said. “I insist that my ogling be held in the strictest confidence.” “Okay, okay, I promise never to tell Harry Potter what you think about his arse….or his bits, for that matter.” “Good,” said Susan. “So we will be seeing those bits presently, right?” “That’s the plan,,” Harry said nervously. “Can’t wait,” she replied. A lull in the conversation brought the background noise of a rapidly emptying bladder to the forefront. Perhaps hearing the same, Susan then asked, “Thought you were peeing too?” “Erm, I was…I mean I still am,” replied Harry, as pushed the front of his g-string to one side and willed himself to do just that. “It’s more of a challenge when I’m in a male form, I guess.” “Why didn’t you just turn back into your female form?” “Erm….need the practice?” asked Harry. Thankfully, Susan was too tipsy to note the questioning tone of that reply. “What’s the difference?” she asked. “Besides the fact that wizards can do it standing up?” “Yeah.” “What….you haven’t seen Neville this way?” “Well, no,” the witch admitted. “Not that he could tell me if it’s different for a wizard than a witch.” “Oh…well, there actually isn’t much difference,” Harry replied, thankful that he’d already asked these questions (and gotten answers) during a previous evening of drinking with Tonks and Remus. “My insides are still the same. Just a bit of reworked plumbing.” “So that’s how it works, then?” asked Susan. “Your female bits are turned into male bits?” “That’s right.” There was a moment of relative silence (the music still bleeding through from the main room), and then the sound of a magical wipe and flush. Harry’s hopes that the embarrassing situation would soon be over were dashed when Susan emerged from her stall and poked her head into Harry’s. “So does it take longer for wizards to go, then?” “What?” “You said you were in the middle of going when I got here, but you’re still standing there…” Harry cocked his head to one side and caught Susan in the corner of his eye. Then he heard the alarming sound of an arriving apparition pop, and tried to cover that up by reaching down and flushing his own commode. “WELL, SUSAN,” he said rather loudly. “When I, TONKS, was trying to pee as HARRY POTTER, and you barged in…” “Hey, did you just hear something?” Susan asked. Harry had indeed heard the incantation for a disillusionment spell, but couldn’t admit as much. Desperately seeking Susan’s attention, he did the only thing he could think of and turned around with his g-string still off to one side. It worked. “No, I didn’t,” he replied *faux*-casually, as he stuffed himself back into his shorts. “Did you?” “Um….erm…well….” “Susan?” “Yes, Harry, erm…I mean Tonks?” “Is something wrong?” “Erm, no, Tonks…you just caught me off-guard when you whipped it around…I mean when you whipped around, and….” It was at that point (when Miss Bones’s points got perky) that Harry suddenly realized that he might have a little more control of the situation than he had previously thought. He allowed himself to smile, thinking that if he really were Tonks that he’d think the situation hilarious. “Now, it can’t be the first time you seen one of these?” Susan shook her head. Pressing her knees together, she added, “No, I have…just not one quite like that.” Harry arched an eyebrow as Susan licked her lower lip. So focused on her face, he didn’t notice her right hand until it was fondling him. “Susan!” he exclaimed, reaching down. “Oh, no!” she replied, as she yanked her hand back. “I’m so sorry, Tonks, I wasn’t thinking, and…” The completion of that sentence lapsed as “Harry Jr.” responded to Susan’s touch and stretched some fabric. “No, it’s okay,” Harry replied, as he tried to push unsexy images to the front of his brain. “Just thought to remind you about the ‘bits staying bits’ part of my talent.” “Huh?” “Remember a few seconds ago, when I said it’s my female parts that are changed into male bits?” Susan flushed red with embarrassment. “So when I grabbed hold of Harry’s…thing…I was really diddling your…” “Exactly,” he replied with a smirk, hoping that this would keep Susan from going any farther. “And as much as I like you, you’re about to be married, and I’m not sure you’re looking for a witch-on-witch scene.” “Oh, of course,” she said, quite soberly. She rushed over to the washbasin, intent on escaping as quickly as possible. Harry swore quietly to himself, afraid that he had just ruined the future Mrs. Longbottom’s party. He walked up next to the former Hufflepuff, quickly washed and dried his hands, and then grabbed her before she could bolt for the door. “Susan, stop for a moment.” “No, Tonks, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…didn’t mean to…” Harry smiled as he forced eye contact with the witch. “Look, this is an absurd situation, when you think about it,” he said. “The boys are ogling real witches flashing their real bits, and all we have to offer you is me faking it.” Susan snorted. “Are you saying that you’re faking the size of the monster in your shorts?” Harry chuckled. “Certainly not! I mean…*apparently* not, based on what Hermione claims…what I mean is…this is supposed to be something fun for you, and I think I might have spoiled it.” “Oh, no, it’s not you, it’s…well, I just feel bad. Sounds like Neville didn’t have a choice, but I do, and here I am wondering if it could get any longer and harder if you freed that bad boy up…” “Hey, no worries,” said Harry as he pulled her into a hug. “It’s just us girls, right?” Susan nodded and smiled as she dragged her hands down Harry’s bare back. It was so hard for her not to think of Tonks as the real Harry, especially when the reaction to her crotch grab looked and felt so real. Then something clicked in her head that made her pull back from the embrace. “Tonks?” “Yes, Susan?” “Your Harry bits…they really are your bits?” “Erm…yes …why?” “Because your Harry bits got hard…but that would mean that your female bits were just as excited, which would mean that it was you who was getting off when I reached out my hand…..not that there’s anything wrong with that, but…..” Harry’s eyes lit up when he realized what Susan was trying to point out. He slightly tilted his head towards Tonk’s presumed hiding place and smiled. “Well, I guess that I *could* explain it away by my ability to stay in character when I’m in a male form…but you are a very attractive witch, and…well, if truth be told, I like wandless bedtime magic just as much as playing with wands.” Harry could almost feel Tonks’s disillusioned eyes staring daggers at him. Susan then smiled brightly and said. “Well that makes me feel much better.” “Why do you say that?” Harry asked. “Because I was worried that you were doing something uncomfortable just for me,” she explained. “But if you really don’t mind female attention…maybe even get off on it…then you might enjoy the situation if the witches and I get a little wild out there.” Harry laughed as pulled Susan into another hug as he stuck his tongue out towards Tonks. “Oh, don’t worry Susan…I’m enjoying the situation much more now than before.” Just then Hermione poked her head into the room. “Hey, the natives are getting restless,” she said. Seeing a barely dressed Harry hugging the witch-to-be-wed, she scowled and asked, “Is something wrong, *Tonks* and *Susan*?” Susan turned around and smiled at her host. “Everything’s fine,” she replied. “Tonks was just explaining wizard plumbing, and letting me know that she doesn’t mind stripping in front of witches.” “He..erm…I mean she did, did she?” “Yeah, I’m having that pronoun problem too,” Susan said with a grin. “Hard to think of Tonks as a witch when she’s packing a pound of Potter in her pants.” “Packing a pound of Potter?” “At least one pound, maybe two,” the Hufflepuff replied as she winked at Harry. “Please don’t tell me that you were fudging on the measurements, Hermione…that’s the kind of memory a witch could put to good use.” “Oh, Susan, I’m certain that these bits are fully representational of the real Harry Potter,” Harry said with a grin. The former Hufflepuff smiled. “Of course, Tonks, although…Hermione never did say how she came to be in possession of that kind of information.” Hermione’s face flushed as she looked over Susan’s shoulder towards Harry. “Oh, that’s a rather long story…” “Not the only thing that’s long, if you’re to be believed.” Susan quipped. “So did you see him both soft and hard, or did you extrapolate?” “Erm……” The smartest-witch-in-her-generation was saved by the incessant cries of *“Harr-y! Harry-y! Harr-y!”* as Lavender Brown entered the room. “Oy, Tonks…aren’t you ready yet?” she demanded. “Oh there you are, Susan,” she added. “We were wondering where you went for some quality alone time.” “I was just using the loo!” Susan exclaimed. “Yeah, yeah, you’re secret is safe with me,” Lavender said with a grin. “C’mon, Sue…your front row seat is ready and waiting, and we need to get a “notice-me-not” charm on your knickers before the final act.” “Why a notice-me-not?” asked Harry. Lavender gave Harry a leering grin just before she pulled the bride-to-be out the door. “So that she can scratch an itch in private when your Harry goes Full Monty…why else?” Harry shook his head and swore. “Sounds like every witch in Britain is out there, now.” “And then some,” Tonks added, as she cancelled the disillusionment spell. “Think I saw Fleur sitting next to both her sister *and* her mum in the second row.” “You know I’m never going to live this down, regardless if it’s me or Tonks,” Harry said. Hermione smiled. “But think of the orphans, Harry.” The Boy-Who-Lived sighed. “Yeah, yeah, there go those heartstrings again…just wish there was some way to keep this out of the papers.” Hermione frowned. “But I already told you that we’ve barred cameras…even a few muggle mobiles that had cameras on them.” Harry pointed towards his head. “But memories, Hermione…how long will it take for somebody out there to duplicate an extracted memory and offer it on the black-market?” Biting her lip, Hermione replied, “Sorry, didn’t think of that.” “It would be kind of difficult to *Obliviate* everyone after the show,” Tonks admitted. After a moment’s pause, a figurative *Lumos* spell lit up over Hermione’s head. “I’ve got it!” she exclaimed, pulling her wand out. “We can use a *Fidelius* charm on Harry’s penis!” “A what?” Harry demanded. “A *Fidelius*, Harry,” she said brightly. “I spent all that time learning that charm last year, might as well put it to work.” “And just what kind of secret will my *Fidelius*-charmed bits protect?” Harry asked sarcastically. *“The Order of the Penis is located inside Harry Potter’s pants?”* Hermione grinned. “No silly, the secret will be *‘I have seen Harry Potter’s Penis*.” There was relative silence in the room, before Tonks offered, “You know, that might actually work.” “Really?” asked Harry. “So who is going to be the secret keeper for that bit of knowledge?” Hermione grinned. “It has to be someone for whom the secret is already true, like me, or Tonks, or Madame Pomfrey, I suppose.” “Sounds like you can add Susan to that list, now,” Tonks offered. Hermione looked at Harry and frowned. “Another one of those accidents,” he explained. “Not that she’ll remember once the charm takes hold and she isn’t the keeper.” “So who, then?” asked Hermione. Harry frowned. “Better be me, lest I have difficulties finding it when I need to use the loo.” Hermione smiled. “And some people say you lack common sense…okay, then, lose the g-string.” “What?” “I need to cast the charm,” Hermione explained. “And since your penis is involved, my wandtip needs to be touching it during the incantation.” “Really?” asked Harry. “I hadn’t heard that kind of thing before.” “She’s making it up, Harry,” Tonks offered. “It’s her sneaky way of getting a jump on the other witches who want to see your willie.” “It is not,” Hermione declared. “Doesn’t matter, at this point,” Harry stated. “Why?” “Because if you cast the charm now, I’d need to pass the secret out to every witch that’s out there,” he explained. “Otherwise, the charm will keep them from seeing what they’ve paid to see.” Hermione nodded. “I suppose I’d also have to know whom to cast the charm on as well.” “Huh?” “The charm,” Hermione explained. “If it’s Tonks that goes out there, the secret would need to be modified to *“I have seen Tonks’s physical interpretation of Harry Potter’s penis.”* “There is value in specificity,” Tonks said in agreement. She turned to Harry and asked, “So whom is it going to be?” Harry frowned. “Too many chances for the wording of the charm to be mucked up if it’s not me.” “Really?” asked Hermione brightly. “Would it matter to you?” Harry asked. Hermione smiled as she walked up to Harry and placed her palm against his chest. “I expect you’ll see if it matters to me once you’re out there.” Harry smiled nervously. “And what *can* I expect from you once I am out there, Miss Granger?” Hermione bit her lip. “A witch gone wild?” “Really? Asked Harry. Hermione made eye contact with Harry and replied. “Well if you are going to pretend to be Tonks pretending to be Harry Potter, then it behooves me to pretend to be the Hermione Granger who loves the real Harry and has secretly lusted over her best friend’s body for years, right?” Harry cocked an eyebrow. “And will it be pretending?” Hermione waggled her eyebrows as she ran her fingers through her hair and thrust her breasts out towards her best friend. “I’ll let you decide,” she replied, reaching up to caress Harry’s facial cheek. She then turned and walked out the door with an exaggerated sway of her hips. Harry was busy archiving the memory of Hermione’s strut when Tonks walked up to him, and slugged him in the shoulder “Ouch!” yelled Harry. “What did you do that for?” “For telling Susan that I’m a witch’s witch, you git.” Harry smiled as he rubbed his arm. “So how else was I going to explain a stiffie when Susan made a grab?” Tonks rolled her eyes. “Right then, I brought my broom, but there’s still the uniform to transfigure.” “Let me worry about that, Tonks.” Harry said. “Dobby?” “Yes, Harry Potter, sir?” the house elf asked, once he popped in. “Will you bring me my Gryffindor Quidditch Robes? They should be in my bedroom closet.” As Dobby disappeared to meet this request, Harry looked towards Tonks and smiled. “What?” Harry asked. “I might as well give them a show that they’ll never remember.” 3. Chapter 3 (yes, there's going to be more) -------------------------------------------- **Wizard Gone Wild (Chapter 3 of x)** **A/N:** Okay, so the bad news…Harry doesn’t get naked in this update. Good news? It didn’t take five months to write and get posted. As usual, I’ve let the story run away from me, and can do little more than document its trajectory. And I needed a Luna scene, and somebody asked what was happening back at the stag party…so it’s not all bad. Right? **Disclaimer:** Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc. **Chapter Three** Hermione Granger left the witch’s lav with a bright red blush on her cheeks….a blush generated not by her appreciation of Harry’s g-string-bared bum, but by the boldness of her words. Telling Harry that she would be a “witch gone wild” if he stripped in front of her was, in her opinion, a very stupid thing to do (even if the sentiment was completely accurate). A heated conversation from across the room turned Hermione’s attention away from just how hot and hard she was lusting after her best friend. She quickly made her way towards the altercation, and was shocked to discover that it involved her former Head of House and Susan’s future grandmother-in-law. “Augusta, I can’t do an adequate job transfiguring the quidditch stands until you expand the ceiling height!” Minerva McGonagall exclaimed. “And I’m telling you that we’ve reached the vertical limit of a magically expanded room, Minerva,” replied Neville’s grandmother. “Ach!” McGonagall squalked, throwing her hands up into the air. “What seems to be the problem?” Hermione asked. “We’ve reached room capacity,” Minerva replied, “and I’ll be damned if I miss out on the show just because I came late to the party and am standing at the back of the room.” “So…you’ve turned the room into the Hogwarts quidditch pitch?” Hermione asked, looking about the area with amazement. “That was the general idea,” the Headmistress replied. “Except that our charms mistress here, dinna want to give me the necessary height to fully recreate the seating area.” “You’re just upset that there isn’t room to build the Headmistress’s box, so that you could claim the prime viewing angles that come with it.” “I’ll not do less than a fully faithful rendition,” Minerva countered indignantly. Hermione bit her lip as she watched the two elderly witches exchange barbs. “May I suggest something?” she asked. The two witches turned to Hermione and nodded. “You’ve done a wonderful job, here, Headmistress…you really have,” she stated. “But it does look like we’ve expanded the room as far as it can go.” “But what about accommodating the crowd?” “I’m getting to that,” Hermione said. “I know this pitch is supposed to provide an appropriate backdrop for tonight’s performance, but it’s not like there’s going to be an actual match here tonight …I mean, you’ve already given most of what should be a grass pitch over to a wood floor stage, right?” Both witches nodded their head. “So as long as you’ve put a stage on the pitch, why not add some ground level seating as well?” Minerva raised an eyebrow. “Would this be reserved ground floor seating then?” Hermione cocked her head and squinted a bit at her former Head of House. “Are you saying that you really do want to have a clear view of Harry’s privates?” The Headmistress huffed indignantly as her elderly sparring partner chortled at her expense. “Well,” Minerva stated, “it’s not like Mr. Potter is still a student of mine…and is it not the case that you and he have been quite insistent on having me treat you like adult colleagues these past few years?” Biting her lip, Hermione ignored the fact that McGonagall assumed that it would be Harry stripping and nodded her head in agreement. At this, the Headmistress smiled broadly. “Well then, I can not see a better way of showing Harry that I consider him to be an adult male wizard.” “You mean that watching Mr. Potter physically prove that he’s an adult male wizard is your way of demonstrating that you think of him as such?” “Is my logic lacking, Augusta?” the Headmistress asked testily. “No, Minerva…the only thing I see lacking are your inhibitions,” replied the Longbottom matriarch. The Headmisress huffed as she transfigured a box of five hundred matchsticks into comfortable folding chairs and levitated them into stage-facing rows. “Would you be wishing a front-row seat, Headmistress?” asked Hermione coyly. “Or something more…discrete?” Minerva huffed as she waved her wand in front of her face and magically obscured it. “A front-row seat would be lovely, dear,” she said with a now-hidden smile. Hermione shook her head in disbelief as she walked with McGonagall towards the front of the room. **oo00OO00oo** Dobby popped into the Witch’s Lav carrying a large box which he set at Harry’s feet. “Dobby be bringing Harry Potter, Sir’s quidditch uniform,” he announced. “Thanks, Dobby,” Harry said with a smile, as he opened the box and pulled out his Gryffindor team uniform. “Haven’t seen this for a few years,” he noted, as he cast a freshening charm on the fabric. “Really?” asked Tonks. Harry nodded. “Packed it away at the end of Sixth Year…didn’t think I’d ever need it again.” “Oh, Merlin, let’s not go down that ‘I thought I was going to die fighting Voldemort’ road, Harry.” The young wizard shrugged his shoulders. “Well…never did finish my last year, so I would have been right either way.” Tonks rolled her eyes and stepped towards the box. “Let’s see what else you’ve got….just a jock strap? Oh, well…guess that’ll work.” She pulled the garment out and stepped into the leg straps. As she pulled it up towards her hips, the hemline traveled alongside, revealing her lack of undergarments. The revealing hemline stayed gathered at her waist as she walked over to the wash basin mirror. “Like what you see?” Tonks asked, having caught Harry staring at her base form’s bared bum. Harry’s face flushed a bit as he shook his head. “No…I mean yes…I mean, well…I just realized that you had changed back into your normal self.” The Auror laughed at Harry’s delayed insight. “Yeah, well it turns out that I *did* need to use the loo while I was back at my flat, and you were spot on about the plumbing differences.” She then turned her gaze back towards the protective cup and added. “Wouldn’t think that you’d be able to fit yourself inside this.” “Yeah, well…” “Guess I could find out for myself…” Tonks decided, before squinting her eyes in concentration. A moment later, she relaxed, then smiled. “Huh…guess there’s more room in there than I thought.” Harry’s face paled when he realized that Tonks had completed a partial female-to-male transformation. “Tonks! That’s disgusting….change your bits back right now!” The metamorph giggled as she reversed the transformation and stepped out of the protective gear. “Here,” she said, offering it to Harry, “Throw it on over your g-string…it’s better than nothing.” “Think I’ll need to protect my crotch, then?” The female Auror shook her head. “Not if you stay close enough to Hermione…I’m sure that she’ll protect it well enough.” “Then why the disappointing tone?” “Doesn’t give you much to tease the crowd with,” Tonks explained. “Once you lose the robes, it’s just the cup, g-string and boots.” “So I’m supposed to take my time stripping down?” “Exactly,” Tonks replied. Harry frowned. “So what else am I supposed to do out there?” With a loud snort, Tonks replied, “Show’em what they’ve come to see…or should that be what they’ll see to cum?” “Tonks!” “What?” the metamorph replied with a grin. “You asked.” “But how do I go about it, exactly?” “You mean you really don’t know?” Tonks asked. “Thought you just came from a party that had strippers.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but it’s not like that’s going to provide me with any ideas.” “Why not?” “Because…well, they were clearly amateurs, and clearly drunk at the time…although that last part’s not a bad idea.” “So they didn’t do any teasing?” Tonks asked. Harry shook his head. “The three witches just stood in a semi-circle in front of Neville and took turns banishing each others clothing.” “They were doing far more than that when I was there,” said Tonks. “I mean really…pretending to be witches’ witches and groping each other’s bits…” “Well yeah,” Harry admitted. “But it’s not like I’ll have a partner out there to grind against, right?” A sparkle came to Tonks’s eye. “You could if you wanted to,” she replied, as she morphed her face into his. “Give them a double dose of Harry?” “I don’t think so,” Harry decided. “They’d for sure know then that at least one of us was me.” “Well, it’s not like they aren’t going to know that anyway,” Tonks snarked. “Why do you say that?” “Because I’ve seen you dance, Potter,” Tonks replied. “No way you could mimic my moves out there…soon as you start flailing about they’ll cotton on.” Harry puffed with indignation. “I’ll have you know that Hermione likes the way that I dance.” “Yeah, right,” Tonks quipped. “She’s just being polite to keep you on the dance floor with her.” “Well,” Harry retorted, “by the time I hop off the broom and start to dance they’d already know it’s me.” “How’s that?” “Because I’ve seen you fly, Tonks…no way you can mimic my moves up in the air.” The metamorph paused for a beat, then smiled. “Guess you’re right about that,” she admitted. “Unless you pretended to be a goof on a broom.” “Never!” Harry quipped. “Wouldn’t know how *not* to be graceful on a broomstick.” Tonks laughed. “So as long as they’ll figure it out, might just as well be upfront about it…you think?” “Maybe.” “I could always head out first and announce that the real Harry is in the house,” Tonks suggested. What sounded like a good idea to Harry quickly soured when he thought of Susan. “But if you do that, then Susan might figure out that it actually was me that she was groping…can’t have that.” “Oh, yeah that’s right,” Tonks admitted. “But maybe….” Harry cocked his head as an evil-looking grin came over Tonks’s face. “What?” he asked. “I’ve got a idea that might just work,” she replied. “Really?…Do tell, Tonks.” The metamorph smiled as she once again changed into a mirror image of the Boy-Who-Livid. “I’ll need to talk and dress at the same time,” she replied. “Give me back that jock strap.” **oo00OO00oo** Outside the ersatz changing room, Lavender was leading Susan Bones by the elbow to a front and center seat that Minerva McGonagall had just transfigured. “C’mon, Susan, we need to get you set up before the second act.” “What?” the former Hufflepuff asked. “You weren’t serious about that notice-me-not charm, were you?” Lavender snorted. “Of course I was,” she replied, as she pushed the bride-to-be down onto the chair. “But…if I need that sort of thing, surely I could do it myself?” “Not during the show, you won’t,” the former Gryffindor replied. “There’s going to be a ‘no-wand use during the performance’ announcement just before the show starts.” “Why?” “Because we want the show to last longer than ten seconds,” Lavender quipped. “With all of these randy witches getting hot and bothered with anticipation, someone is bound to get impatient and cast an ‘*Accio g-string*’ spell just as soon as he pops out the door.” Susan laughed. “So they’ll be threatened with expulsion, or something?” Lavender smiled and nodded. “If we see your wand, you don’t get to see Harry’s.” Susan’s laugh was choked off when Lavender cast a spell that raised the former Hufflepuff’s hem length from ankle to upper thigh. “What are you doing?” Susan demanded, as she clamped her bared legs together. “Can’t charm your knickers if I can’t see them, right?” Lavender asked with a grin. She nudged the bride-to-be’s knees apart with her own, raised her wand towards Susan’s lap, and chuckled at first sight of her target. “Red silk….and a thong, Susan?” Lavender asked. “Rather bold for a Hufflepuff!” Susan’s eyes sparkled. “Maybe my fiance’s rubbed off on me?” “More likely he’s rubbed himself off if you’ve been flashing those to him,” Lavender quipped. “Speaking of rubbing, though…we might have to rethink this.” “Why?” “Because you might get a lap dance out of the deal,” Lavender said with a grin. “Wouldn’t do if the audience couldn’t notice your knickers if our ‘Harry’ is grinding his crotch against them, would it?” Susan blushed at the thought (especially when that thought was augmented by the realization that it would be Tonks doing the grinding). Lavender grabbed her chin and thought for a few moments. “Alright,” she concluded. “We’ll have to go about it indirectly…which is your wank hand?” “What?” Lavender rolled her eyes. “You heard me, Susan…if we can’t charm your knickers, we’ll have to charm the hand that might slip inside them. So which is it? Left hand, or right?” The bride-to-be bit her lower lip. “Well….” “What, are you ambidextrous, or something?” asked Lavender. “Or…is it both hands at the same time?” Susan let out a deep breath, then held out both of her hands. “Why, you naughty little witch!” Lavender snarked, as she cast the notice-me-not charm twice over. **oo00OO00oo** Tonks’s brilliant plan for unraveling their identities required Harry to leave the witch’s lavatory for a few minutes. Still thinking that firewhiskey would be an effective boost to his confidence, and wishing to check on Neville, he apparated back to the wizard’s lav within The Leaky Cauldron (from which had left with Tonks). After a quick check in the mirror to reconfirm he was appropriately attired, he walked out of the lavatory and made a beeline for the bottle that he hoped was still sitting on his back table. Before making his way through the scattered tables and chairs, Harry glanced towards the front of the room. He was relieved to find Neville to one side of the stage, lying down on a row of chairs. He couldn’t tell from a distance whether the groom-to-be was passed out drunk or simply tired (not that it mattered…Susan could easily forgive and cure either condition with the right potion). A refined assessment of the Neville’s condition was cut short when Harry realized that the stage show had changed significantly. When he had left, the engaged Gryff was involuntarily enjoying a lap dance, with the three witches taking turns grinding their bum against his crotch. Now there was a different wizard sitting in Neville’s chair, with his back to Harry and the hood of his robes drawn up. And the witches? They were now on their knees, taking turns in front of the wizard’s crotch, doing more licking than grinding. “At least it’s not Neville,” Harry thought to himself, as he began to scan the faces of the male audience. But before he could suss out who the lucky bastard was, Harry was roughly pushed back through the lavatory door. “What the..!” he exclaimed, turning to discover that Ron Weasley was his assailant. “Harry!” exclaimed Ron. “What are you doing here?” “Erm…you invited me?” Harry replied. “Well sure, but…but we couldn’t find you, mate…figured that you’d left for the night.” “Well, I obviously didn’t,” Harry replied. “What’s with the manhandling?” “That?” asked Ron. “Oh…you see…it’s just that…didn’t need there to be any confusion.” “And why would anyone be confused by the fact that I had returned to the party after a short absence?” “Because…” Ron said nervously. “Oh, bugger.” “What?” “Well, Harry…you know that I had to sort of promise that you’d be here to get the entertainment lined up, right?” Harry scowled. “Go on.” “Yeah, well…a few minutes after you went missing the witches noticed, and…” “And?” “And they said that they’d only take things further if you were sitting in front of them.” “Take things further?” Harry said incredulously. “They were already….so which wizard just became part of the show, Ron?” “That’s where the confusion part comes in,” Ron stammered. “The witches think that it’s you.” “Me?” yelled Harry. “You’ve gone and….what…..let me guess, polyjuice?” Ron nodded. “But why?” “It’s like I said,” Ron tried to explain. “We couldn’t find you anywhere, and they insisted that the head of the line for head had to be Harry.” “Head of the line for head had to be Harry?” hissed Harry. “How can you even say that with how much you’ve had to drink?” Ron shrugged his shoulders. “We all have different talents…not slurring when I’m pissed is one of mine.” “Right,” Harry fumed. “What…don’t believe me?” asked Ron. “Then why don’t you trying saying *Pansy Parkinson picked a peck of pickled Potter peck…*.” Harry cuffed his mate before he finished the disturbing rhyme. “Hey!” Ron whined. “Well let’s try this one, shall we?” Harry said dangerously. “*The Boy-Who-Lived’s best mate’s bits got bitten off by a bunch of pissed-off bare-arsed blow-jobbing bints*.” Ron frowned for a moment. “Not bad…although it’d be better if you replaced ‘pissed-off’ with ‘bent’.” Harry rolled his eyes in disgust. “So it wasn’t bad enough that you tricked them into stripping down starkers with the promise that I’d be present and pliable…you used polyjuice and a stand-in just so you’d get some sloppy seconds?” The Boy-Who-Was-Now-Really-Livid waved off Ron’s sputtering start of an excuse and pointed towards the stage. “So who is it?” “Who is who?” “The body double that’s getting blown.” Ron looked down at the floor and muttered, “Colin.” “Colin Creevy?” “That’s right.” “But…but…but he’s gay!” “So?” “So did somebody cast an *Imperious* on him?” “Of course not,” Ron said indignantly. “He was a willing volunteer!” “Willing?…Why would he willing to be seduced by a group of witches?” Ron muttered something else towards the floor. “What was that?” Harry demanded. Ron winced in anticipation. “Fred and George offered him their extended version of the polyjuice potion.” “Fabulous,” said Harry. “Bloody fabulous….so how long will it last?” “About four hours.” “Four hours?…Oh, Merlin,” spat Harry. “So what’s he plan on doing once the witches are done with him?” “Erm, we didn’t ask,” Ron replied. “Colin said something about going home to play with his two favorite toys.” Harry’s face paled. “So that would be his camera and….Oh, Bite Me!” Trying to make light of the situation, Ron pointed and replied, “The line for that’s out there.” Harry didn’t think the joke added much humor to the situation. Realizing that he had little time to prevent this second disaster from getting too far out of hand, he drew his wand. “*Petrificus Totalus*!” Ron’s reaction of shock and surprise was perfectly captured on his now-stunned face. “I’ve no time for this, Ron,” he explained, pushing his mate’s stiff body into a stall and closing the door. Harry then stomped out the door and blasted the magical jukebox to pieces with a well-placed *Reducto*. With the music thus dispatched, there was no need for Harry to yell. He did anyway. “WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON!” Everyone’s eyes shifted focus from Colin’s lap to Harry’s face (except for Neville’s…his eyes were still shut tight in slumber). “Oh, bug…” “Ger,” said Fred and George. “Was that going to be part of the show as well?” Harry quipped. “Who are you?” asked the witch who had looked up from her work. “Why, I’m Harry Potter, of course,” he replied. “Yeah, right,” she replied, waving towards Colin’s crotch. “This is Harry Potter here.” “No,” Harry explained as he strode to the front of the room. “That is a polyjuiced Colin Creevy pretending to be me.” “Colin Creevy!” shrieked the witch, as she jumped up from her knees and staggered away from the wizard. “Pull your pants up and tell her,” Harry demanded, as he looked towards a frightened version of himself. “H-h-h-harry?” Colin asked. “They said you’d left.” “They also said you had plans for my bits and your camera,” Harry countered. “But I was only planning on a few candids for my personal collection!” Colin protested. “Oh, Merlin, it really is Colin Creevy!” shrieked one of the other naked witches, as she walked backwards away from the chair. “And to think that I almost….” “Look Harry, we can explain everything,” offered Remus, who had been watching the show from one side. “Save the explanation for Tonks,” Harry snarled. “But…but…what happens at a stag party, stays at a stag party, right?” asked Fred. “Yeah, Harry, we all agreed on that,” George added. Harry fumed, and turned towards the three witches (who were rapidly retrieving their clothing). “Did anybody else get to enjoy this part of your show, ladies?” “No, you were the first…I mean, he was the first,” said one of the three, as she pointed towards Colin. “I’m so sorry, Harry,” said Colin. “It was the firewhiskey, really!” Harry shook his head in disgust as he surveyed the faces of the other wizards. “You lot ought to be ashamed of your selves,” he stated. “We are, we are,” offered Fred. “But about that agreement?” Harry snorted as he waved his hand towards Colin. “I won’t say anything about this…this fiasco,” he stated. “But as for the fact that there were strippers, and lap dancing, and wanton ogling…well the kneazle is already out of the bag on that.” “But how?” Nymphadora Tonks’s patronus answered that question when it leapt into the room and delivered a three word message to Harry using her voice. **“Show Time, Stud!”** “Oh, Merlin, she was here already, wasn’t she?” asked Remus. Harry grinned. “Hope that couch is comfortable, my friend…I think you’re going to need it for a long while.” He then turned to the others and added, “That probably goes for the lot of you.” Amidst the anticipatory moaning and groaning, Harry turned to Colin and announced, “You are coming with me.” “Wha…wha…where are we going?” “Someplace far away from your camera, at least while you look like that,” Harry explained. He then turned to the three now-clothed witches. “You lot might as well come along too.” “Why is that?” asked one of the three. “Because every other bloody witch in Britain is probably there by now,” he replied. “Where’s there?” asked George. Harry turned and gave the red-headed twin a wicked grin. “Why, the Three Broomsticks, where else?” “But…isn’t that where Hermione was having Susan’s doe party?” asked Dean Thomas. “Why, I believe you’re right, Dean,” Harry said with a smile. “But why are you….what’s going on there?” asked Seamus. Harry dismissed the Irish wizard’s question with a firm “tsk-tsk.” “Now, now, boys,” he admonished. “If what happens at a stag party, stays at a stag party, then surely the same applies for the doe and her party, right?” Pointing towards the door, he asked, “Are you ladies sober enough to use the floo?” The three witches (and Colin, to Harry’s amusement) all nodded. “Then you’ve got a show to catch,” he replied. Harry then led them towards the door, grabbing the half-full bottle of firewhiskey along the way. When he stopped at the threshold in order to guzzle straight from the bottle, his eyes went wide…but it wasn’t due to the alcohol. “Oi, Colin,” he chided, wiping his face with his sleeve. “Put that hood up…the world’s got enough me’s running about tonight.” As the party of five exited, Fred turned to George and shook his head. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked. “I usually am, aren’t I” George quipped. “What?” asked Seamus. “Harry and Tonks are set on leveling the playing field,” said Fred. George nodded. “Hope it works.” “Why’s that?” asked Dean. “Because it’s hard for my wife to yell at her husband when she’s got damp knickers and a goofy grin on her face,” George explained. Fred snorted. “You’re assuming that your wife comes home with her knickers, then?” “Good point, brother of mine,” George admitted. **oo00OO00oo** Harry rolled out of the Three Brookstick’s floo connection and into chaos. Madame Rosmerta and her staff were failing spectacularly in their attempts to serve an overflow crowd of witches, and his sudden appearance didn’t help any. “There he is!” shouted a witch, once she recognized Harry. “Ooops!” Harry announced, as the three female strippers, Colin and he were mobbed. “Huddle close!” he shouted towards his companions, as he cast a complex spell over their heads. When the spell took effect, the cries of excitement within the room turned into shrieks of disappointment. “Where’d he go?” “Are you sure that it was him?” “Sure, I’m sure…in fact, I saw two of him!” “Merlin, cut that witch off, she’s seeing double!” Harry chuckled as he linked hands with his party and ushered them towards the back door. “What did you do, Harry?” asked Colin. “Cast a group-focused notice-me-not charm,” Harry replied, as he led them to the front of the line. “It pulls attention away from the group, without keeping us from noticing each other.” “So nobody is going to notice us, or mind that we budge in line?” asked Colin. “That’s right,” Harry replied. “Hey Harry, come to see your own show?” Harry turned and smiled at the witch who was taking tickets at the door. “There are always exceptions,” he admitted to Colin with a smirk. “Hello, Luna…busy night?” “Wonderfully so,” the blond-haired witch replied. Luna then turned towards Colin and asked, “A third Harry?” “Well,” “Haven’t I warned you about pulling your multi-dimensional counterparts into our world?” Luna asked. “Yes,” Harry replied, waving towards Colin. “But this is polyjuice at work, rather than a dimension jump.” Luna squinted at the doppelganger. “Oh, I see. Hello, Colin Creevy.” “Erm…hello?” the young wizard replied. Harry shook his head. “Luna, you never fail to amaze me.” “Good, then I guess I’m doing my job,” the witch replied with a grin. “And speaking of jobs, you’re going to need tickets for me to punch, if you want to watch yourself get naked.” Colin Creevy’s eyes lit up like he just woken on Christmas morning. “No, Colin,” Harry chided. “You will not be watching the show.” As the young wizard frowned, the three stripper witches looked at Harry with pleading eyes. He snorted, then said, “Alright, you lot inside…I’ll vouch for you with management.” The girls squealed as they brushed by Harry, giving him hugs and kisses on the cheek as they passed by. “Hold on, then,” Luna stated, holding her hand out. “I need to check you for hidden cameras.” The three stood there expectantly as Luna looked them over. “Okay, then, in you go.” Luna got some hugs and kisses herself as the three witches passed through the gate. “So Luna,” asked Harry, “would you be willing to watch Colin for me while I’m inside?” “Sure, Harry…anything for you.” “Even if that means you miss the show?” Luna gave Harry a beatific smile as she started to allow more of the line of queued witches through the doors. “That’s okay, Harry…I’ve seen your show before.” “Really?” asked Harry nervously, running his hand through his hair. “I don’t remember that…did I have to write a letter after you walked in on me in the shower too?” “Not in this dimension,” Luna replied matter-of-factly. “In fact, I’m not aware of that happening in any of the other dimensions…at least not yet.” Harry chuckled….Luna’s willingness to share with him the collective experiences of her 46,204 (and counting) multi-dimensional counterparts was always good for a laugh. “But you’ve seen me…all of me…in some of the other dimensions?” Luna smiled brightly. “Yes, almost all of them, actually.” “Really?” “Why not?” the witch asked. “After all, you and I are already married in at least thirty-thousand different dimensions.” Harry snorted. “That many, huh?” When Luna shrugged her shoulders, Harry added. “But we’re not married in this dimension?” “Not that I am aware of,” Luna replied. “Are we married in this dimension?” “Not that I’m aware of,” said Harry. “Poo!” said Luna. “Disappointed?” “A little bit,” Luna replied. “After all, we’re almost always blissfully happy whenever we get married.” She sighed, and placed her hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Harry…some of us have to live without you for a little while just to show the others how good they’ve got it when they get it from you.” While Harry was trying to compose a semi-coherent response to this bit of incoherence, Luna added, “Besides, I’ve got something to look forward to.” “What?” asked Harry. “I thought that you and the others were the same age, and that you couldn’t see into any of the multi-dimensional futures?” “I can’t, silly,” Luna said with a shoulder squeeze. “I’m just playing the percentages.” “How so?” “Well…in about half of the other dimensions you’re bonded with Hermione.” “Half?” asked Harry, working the math. “But you just said you and I are married in roughly three-quarters of the dimensions.” Luna frowned. “Those two facts aren’t mutually exclusive, you know.” Harry chortled. “So it’s you and me *and* Hermione, then?” Luna smiled. “At least the three of us,” she stated. “Harems?” asked Harry. Luna shrugged. “Your sexual stamina and long penis length are two of the few known constants in the universe.” “Well that’s good to know,” Harry replied. He then asked, “So what are these percentages that you’re counting on?” “Whenever Hermione becomes the primary wife, I end up sharing your bond and your bed 93% of the time.” Harry choked on some spittle. “That often, Luna?” “Oh yes,” she stated seriously. “That’s a number that I track quite religiously.” Colin decided to jump into the conversation. “Are Harry and I bonded in any of these other dimensions?” Harry scowled at the interloper, but Luna just smiled. “The odds are remote,” she stated, “but not impossible.” “Yay!” chirped Colin, channeling a Luna-ism. “Well, then,” Harry said, giving his hair another rake with his fingers. “I’ll have to keep all this in mind, I guess.” A roar coming from the other side of the door kept Harry from any additional musing. “Ah…it sounds like the other Harry’s delaying tactics have run their course and she’s started her show,” Luna said. “You better get inside.” Harry nodded, and made for the door…only to be stopped by Luna’s hand. “Just a minute, Harry…I need to check for hidden recording devices.” “But…” “Won’t take but a second,” Luna stated, as she unbuckled his belt, unzipped his fly, and slipped her hand into the front of Harry’s trousers. “Luna!” he hissed. “Is that really necessary?” “Sshhh….” she chided. “I’m listening for cameras.” “With your hand?” “How else would you want me to do it?” she asked. Harry stared at the blonde-haired witch, then smiled as he gingerly pulled her hand out of his tented pants. “Luna, I can’t imagine you doing things any other way.” He gave his good friend a hug, then walked through the door to face this dimension’s destiny. 4. Chapter 4 (of 4?) -------------------- **Wizard Gone Wild (Chapter 4 of 4?)** **A/N:** I’m not sure that I’m happy with this chapter, but I’m selfishly posting it anyway, so that my mind can turn towards other work(s). Given the state of my muse and a favorable reader response, there may be an epilogue. **Disclaimer:** Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc. **Chapter Four** Harry Potter stepped into a transfigured and magically-expanded stadium concourse, filled with witches in a mad dash towards the seating area as Hermione Granger welcomed the crowd and reported just how large a donation was going to be made to the War Orphans Fund. Seeing an opening off to one side, he slipped into the back row just as Hermione turned the stage over to Lavender Brown, who appeared to be acting as the show’s emcee. As Lavender used a *Sonorus* charm to go over the ground-rules regarding wands and roving hands, Harry leaned over the top row of witches to see who had been given the best seats. He wasn’t surprised to find Hermione in the front row next to Susan, with Ginny Weasley on the bride-to-be’s right. Padma and Parvati were also in the front row, with Augusta Longbottom right behind, sitting next to an older witch that (from the back) looked like Minerva McGonagall. Fortunately, the silver-haired heads of Fleur, Gabrielle, and their mum caught his attention quickly enough to keep him from thinking about being naked in front of his former Head of House. Instead, he struggled to remember just how old Fleur’s younger sister was as she bounced up and down in her seat. From where Harry stood, it was clear that many of the witches in the room had gotten into the spirit of the Quidditch theme, and transfigured their clothing into modified school robes. Few of these robes were standard issue…the pretty witch standing next to him, for example, was dressed in Hufflepuff robes that sported a cleavage-baring neckline, and thigh-baring hemline that would have given Pomona Sprout a heart attack. A polite (if impatient) round of applause drew Harry’s attention away from the skimpy attire and towards the stage, where Lavender had ended her speech and poked her head into the doorway of the witch’s lavatory. The chant of *Harr-y! Harr-y! Harr-y!* built up once more, as the former Gryffindor witch held one-half of a hidden conversation with someone inside, and snaked her arm through the doorway. A moment later, the arm sported a “thumbs up” sign, and the crowd cheered when Lavender turned and repeated that signal for their benefit. “Witches, are you ready for the wizard that let it all hang out when he defeated a troll at age eleven?” she asked with a *Sonorus*-aided roar. “Yes!” yelled the crowd, as they rose to their feet and clapped in rhythm. “Ready for the wizard that let it all hang out when he slew a mighty basilisk?” Yes!” *“*Ready for the Tri-Wizard Champion…who vanquished Voldemort…and has been *Teen Witch Weekly’s* Most Eligible Wizard Five Years Running?” “Yes!” “Ready for The Boy-Who-Lived to *really* to let it all hang out, in the way that every witch in the world dreams of?” “Yes!” “Then, without further delay,” Lavender cried out, as she pointed towards the door, “I give you POTTER!” As the music volume surged, Harry’s doppelganger burst from the lavatory with a smoke-trailing broomstick between her legs and a wide grin on her face. Magical spotlights tracked the “Potter 7” robes that fluttered behind Tonks as she flew up and over the semi-circle of Quidditch stadium stands in a wide arc, then spiraled slowly down towards the ground level stage, waving to the crowd the whole time. A voice that rose above the rhythmic repetition of Harry’s name cried out, “WE WANT BITS!” Tonks coyly admonished the witch with pursed lips and a wagging finger as she hovered above the crowd. The lone voice, however, was quickly bolstered by the shared sentiments within the crowd. *“We want bits! We want bits! We want bits!”* **oo00OO00oo** Tonks shook her head and laughed as she dropped to the stage and dismounted the broom. She began to strut back and forth across the elevated platform, as the front row of witches abandoned their chairs and rushed the stage, hoping to grab some of the performer’s robes. Tonks danced just out of reach, and stopped in front of Susan Bones, so that she could swivel, sway, and thrust her version of Harry’s hips towards the guest of honor. Tonks couldn’t hear Hermione’s snort, given the music volume, but she could see it, along with the slight look of disappointment in her eyes. *“Made, already,”* Tonks thought to herself. She turned towards Hermione and gave her a saucy wink. Seeing that expression returned with more confusion than recognition, Tonks squatted down at the edge of the stage and leaned towards the former Gryffindor witch to offer a quick word of reassurance. Susan Bones, however, misconstrued this action and stepped in front of Hermione so that she could pull the metamorph’s head down for a full-throated, toe-curling kiss. “Susan!” Tonks exclaimed, once she managed to wrestle her lips away from her assailant’s. “What?” the bride-to-be shouted. “It’s just us girls, right?” Her left hand remained buried in Tonk’s unruly mass of black hair while the right slipped down inside the back of her Quidditch robes. The Auror shook her head and smiled as she pulled Susan’s arms away and stood back up. When the witch’s hands broke free of Tonk’s grip, the notice-me-not charms took hold, and the metamorph turned away from the guest of honor with a confused look on her face. “Wha….what did I do?” Susan asked. “It’s your notice-me-not hands,” Lavender yelled out. “You need to hide them someplace!” The bride-to-be realized the problem, and quickly crossed her arms and stuffed her hands into her armpits. Lavender’s scandalous comment about hiding her hands lower down her body were missed, as Susan returned her attention towards Tonks, who had apparently shaken off the charm’s effects and was sauntering back towards her. Harry’s doppelganger grinned as she beckoned Susan with a curled finger. “Come help me, Miss Bones.” The former Hufflepuff frowned, then shook her head. “I can’t,” Susan yelled back with crossed arms. “My hands had a distraction charm applied to them.” Those witches close enough to hear this declaration above the music surged forward…nearly every one offering to take Susan’s place on stage. Tonks grinned at the response, and disappointed the crowd with a slight shake of her head, and a finger pointed out towards Hermione. “Me?” she asked, pointing her own index finger towards her chest. “Yes, you,” Tonks yelled. “And bring your chair!” **oo00OO00oo** Harry Potter couldn’t hear any of the dialogue between Tonks and the front row of witches from his position at the back of the room. Not that it mattered…Tonks had planned for a noisy crowd with a visual cue that had yet to be given. The metamorph was apparently having too much fun to share the limelight…at least just yet. Harry watched with nervous interest as Hermione grabbed her chair and lifted it up onto the elevated stage. His interest grew as she placed her hands on the stage edge and pushed up high enough to swing around and sit on the platform. His best friend had transfigured her outfit into a muggle sleeveless “little black dress,” with a relatively modest neckline, but a pleasingly short hemline that made it all but impossible for her to reach the stage without flashing her knickers to the audience. While most eyes in the room were still focused on Tonks, Harry’s were riveted to Hermione, and to the little play-within-a-play that had just been performed by her sheer black panties. “Merlin!” he muttered to himself. He wasn’t at all surprised that that brief flash had aroused him in a way that the skimpy attire of the audience had not…whether intentionally or not, Hermione was now wearing the only piece of clothing that she had worn on the morning he’d caught her self-treating her sexual tension within their shared tent. Placing his trust in the strength of his charm work and the darkness of the room, Harry Potter took his time readjusting the front of his trousers as Tonks’s portion of the show played out. **oo00OO00oo** Tonks grabbed Hermione by one hand and her chair with the other and walked back to center stage. The metamorph set the chair down facing the audience, then took a seat. She then lifted her leg out towards the crowd and smiled up at Hermione. “Help me with my boots, Hermione?” Hermione leaned down towards Tonks and placed a hand on the metamorph’s leg. “What are you playing at, Tonks?” she hissed. Tonks pulled Hermione’s head down to hers and placed a long near-kiss against the nape of her neck. As the crowd roared its appreciation, Tonks broke the staged skin contact and moved her lips to Hermione’s ear. “Harry’s watching the show,” she explained to Hermione. “Make him wish that he was the one on stage wearing these boots.” A smile came to Hermione’s lips as she nodded in recognition and pulled away from Tonks’s embrace. With one hand still on the outstretched leg, she kicked her own leg up and over Tonk’s and faced the crowd in something approximating a cowgirl riding in reverse. The other witches within the room egged Hermione on as she cradled the boot with one hand, and held the other out for balance, as if she was riding a mechanical bull. The audience clapped along as she bounced up and down on Tonk’s leg in time with the music. **oo00OO00oo** Harry began to seriously consider jumping the wand as Hermione began to bump and grind against Tonk’s version of his left leg. The pouting lips, puckered into alternating “oohs” and “ahs,” were paired with eyes that darted from one side of the audience to the other with feral hunger. Was she hunting for the real Harry? He certain hoped so, as she slipped off Tonk’s boot and began to message the bared foot. “C’mon, Tonks,” he muttered impatiently, finding it hard to address just how hard he’d become. Shouts of approval rang out from the crowd as Hermione bent down, stuck out her tongue, and licked up the length of Tonks’s big toe. These shouts were replaced with laughter as Tonks took advantage of Hermione’s position and slapped her hand against her dress-covered bum. The witch jumped up in shock and whipped her hands behind to protect against a second strike. She turned, exchanged a few words with Harry’s twin, then allowed the bared leg to drop so that she could repeat her performance with the other leg and boot. An impatient crowd was rewarded when Hermione gave up her foot massage and stepped behind the chair. She leaned over Tonks’s shoulder, and let her hands roam up and down Tonks’s flat chest. Hermione teased the crowd (and the real Harry) when her hands drifted lower down the Auror’s front, but they bypassed Tonks’s lap and took hold of the fabric that covered the seated Auror’s knees. The metamorph gestured towards the crowd, soliciting shouts of encouragement as Hermione pulled on the hem and began to expose bare leg. When the bottom of the Quidditch robes approached Tonks’s lap, she clamped her legs together tightly to avoid any up-skirt glimpses for the crowd. The groans and moans of a disappointed audience quickly turned to cheers when Hermione reached down and swatted Tonks’s knees. She then wedged her fingers in between the clamped legs and began to pull them apart. The audience went wild when spread legs revealed a jock-strap protected g-string. An impatient Hermione nuzzled against Tonks’s neck, so that her mass of brown curly hair blocked anyone in the crowd from lip-reading. “So tell me, Tonks,” she asked. “What do I have to do to be able to do this to the real Harry?” The metamorph chuckled. “So you’d be willing to do this to Harry in front of this crowd?” “I’d ride reverse cowgirl on his broomstick, if that’s what it would take.” The Auror laughed out loud. “Careful what you promise, Hermione…wouldn’t want you to be forced to fulfill a wizard’s oath.” Hermione smiled into Tonks’s neck as she dragged her fingertips up and down the witch’s bared thigh. “What makes you think that any force would be required?” “What if I said Harry won’t swap places with me until he sees me pull you over my lap and swat your bare arse?” The former Gryffindor responded by dragging her hand all the way up Tonks’s leg and grabbing hold of the hard protective cup. “I’d probably ask whether you wanted to use your left hand or right.” “Lucky for you, then,” said Tonks, “that the signal isn’t quite as painful.” The Auror quickly stood, pulling Hermione’s hand away from her lap. The few boos that came from the crowd were drowned out by cheering when she turned her back to the crowd, then bent down and grabbed the chair seat. As she began to wiggle her bum, Tonks looked up at Hermione and said, “Help me out of these robes, sweetheart.” “Right away,” Hermione said cheerfully. “No, take your time,” Tonks replied. “Make sure the audience gets their money’s worth.” Hermione nodded as she turned to face the audience. She giggled when she looked down towards Susan…the former Hufflepuffs’s hands were presently buried somewhere other than her armpits. Tonks swayed her hips back and forth while Hermione reached down and grabbed hold of the bottom of Quidditch uniform. She looked to the audience for encouragement, and was amply rewarded as she raised the hemline higher and higher. When “Harry’s” toned calves were exposed, Hermione abandoned her grip on the robes and reached down to caress Tonk’s legs. The hem still traveled higher, though, with each teasing stroke of her hand up and down the leg. Losing her patience (and most of her decorum), Hermione momentarily forgot about the tease and flipped the robes up over Tonks’s bum. And the crowd went wild at the sight of nearly bared bottom. Hermione forgot for a moment whom she was with and waggled her eyebrows towards the crowd as she cupped an exposed cheek with her hand. “Hey!” said Tonks with a grin. “Do you want to play with my arse, or Harry’s?” Hermione smiled. “Do you want me to stop, Auror Tonks?” The metamorph rolled her eyes. “Just finish pulling these robes over my head.” The former Gryffindor nodded, and stepped in front of Tonks so that she could pull the offending garment all the way off. The crowd showed its appreciation, as Tonks stood with her back to them, now dressed only in jock strap and g-string. “Now what?” asked Hermione, as Tonks began to gyrate her hips for the crowd. “Now, it’s up to Harry,” the Auror replied with a smile. “Play along, if you can.” She then turned and flashed that same smile towards the rest of the room. **oo00OO00oo** “It’s about bloody time,” Harry muttered, as the discarded robes gave signal. He looked down and rearranged himself to present a less-obvious profile, then grabbed his other wand and cancelled the self-applied notice-me-not charm. The attentions of the nearby witches were too focused on the stage to notice him, so that they were just as surprised as anyone else when Harry held his wand tip to his throat and cast a *Sonorus* charm. “WHAT IN MERLIN”S NAME IS GOING ON HERE!” Had there actually been a phonograph needle working its magic against vinyl, it would have made a horrific scratching noise in response to Harry’s question. Instead, the music simply died, along with all of the enthusiasm within the room, as every witch in the room swiveled her head towards the questioner. The shocked silence allowed Harry to ask clearly heard follow-up questions without need of magical augmentation. “I said, what is going on here?” he demanded, as he strode down towards the stage. With the hall lights dimmed, it was only those witches along the aisle that recognized him. Their gasps were quickly converted into explanations, though, such that everyone in the magically expanded room knew that there was a brewing identity issue ever before the young wizard jumped down onto the ground level, then leapt up onto the stage. “Erm…..Harry, what are you doing here?” asked a nervous-looking Hermione. “What am I doing here?” he replied, as he leapt up onto the stage. He gave Tonks a close look-over as the audience buzzed with a mixture of confusion and disappointment (as Harry’s arrival seemed destined to end the show). “Who are you, and why are you pretending to be a nearly-naked me?” “Erm……” “Tell me why I shouldn’t hex you from here to Hastings,” Harry snarled, as he drew his wand level with Tonks’s face. Hermione stepped in front of Harry and pulled his wand hand back down to his side. With a stage-carrying voice she said, “It’s not Tonks’s fault, Harry…I asked for her help.” Harry turned half-way, to present a stage profile for the audience. “Is that really you, Tonks?” A fearful-looking mirror image nodded her head dismissively. “Prove it, then.” Tonks frowned, and chose to comply with Harry’s demand by growing a pair of bare breasts. “Tonks!” he yelled, at the sight of his doppleganger’s augmentation. “Put those away!” “Oh, you’re no fun, Harry,” Tonks quipped, as she shrank herself back down to the size of Harry’s firm pecs. “Forgive me if I don’t think this is a laughing matter,” Harry replied. “Give a good reason not to haul you all down to the Ministry for wrongful impersonation.” “It’s for Susan’s party, and the war orphans?” asked Hermione. Harry frowned. “That’s two reasons.” He squinted out into the audience. “Is Susan even out there?” “Right here, Harry,” the witch replied. “Where?” asked Harry. “These lights are too bright…raise your hand.” “Erm, I can’t Harry.” “Why not?” “Because they have notice-me-not charms applied to them.” “Why would you need to…” Harry stopped in mid-sentence as the crowd tittered. “So where exactly are you hiding your hands, Susan?” “Erm….” “Never mind, I don’t think I want to know,” Harry said. “Would you like me to conjur you a pair of mittens?” A beat later, Susan replied, “No thanks, Harry…I’m good.” “That point might be debatable, all things considered,” he snarked. Pacing back and forth along the stage front, Harry frowned. “What made you think you could fool the audience into thinking that it was really me?” he asked Tonks. “Well…we had some reliable information about the size of your…..measurements.” “Is that so?” asked Harry. “And have you shared that information with your audience, Tonks?” “No, you got here before I got the chance to.” “Well that’s good,” Harry stated. The audience, who had quickly settled down so that they wouldn’t miss any of the dialogue, expressed its disappointment. Tonks chuckled to herself. “So why do you think that’s good, Harry?” “Well, if you have to know, Tonks…I wouldn’t want there to be any doubt that the paid attendence didn’t get its money’s worth.” “What do you mean?” Hermione asked with a sly smile. Harry snorted as he began to unbutton his dark green robes. “If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.” There was a moment of silence as Harry’s words and actions sunk in. And then all hell broke loose. Arm-thrusting chants of *“Harr-y, Harr-y, Harr-y”* ran counterpoint to the clap-punctuated demand, *“We Want Bits!”* Witches jumped up and down in excitement as Harry called for the music to start up again. Hermione chose that moment to walk in between Harry and the crowd and place her hands over his. “Are you really going to do this?” she yelled above the music. Harry gave her a rakish grin as he cast a *Muffliato* spell around them and replied, “Maybe we should work this out?” Hermione nodded as she looked over her shoulder. “Think the crowd will give us that time?” With a chuckle, Harry tilted his head towards Tonks, who had stepped up and begun to dance to the music. “I think that my body double is buying us a few minutes.” Nodding, Hermione said, “You really don’t have to do this, you know.” Maybe I want to find out if you’d really be a witch gone wild if I did.” Hermione’s tongue darted out to moisten her lower lip, only to sneak back in so that she could bite down on that lip pensively. “Would you want me to go wild, Harry?” The Boy-Who-Lived pulled his hands away from his chest so that he could cover hers. “You show me how you really feel about me, and I promise I’ll do the same.” Hermione’s breath caught in her throat. She looked down in embarrassment, only to catch sight of some tenting to Harry’s robes. “Any chance you’re already showing me your feelings, Mr. Potter?” Harry followed her gaze downward and snorted. He replied by pulling her into a bone-crushing hug that trapped the physical manifestation of his feelings for Hermione against her thigh. He smiled at the crowd’s reaction, and then goosed it by trailing a hand up Hermione’s leg towards her panty-covered bum. “I’ll uncover mine if you uncover yours,” he saucily stated. Hermione’s eyes went wide, particularly as she caught Tonks mouthing *“I told you so!”* out of the corner of her eye. She swatted Harry’s roaming hand out from under her dress and replied, “I think the crowd is more interested in seeing you go first, Harry.” “Is that a promise for a second private performance later tonight?” Hermione reached down to give Harry’s posterior a squeeze. “You bet your arse it is.” Harry grinned as he cancelled the silencing spell and kissed Hermione hard. She responded with a moan, and pushed her tongue against his lips seeking entry. Those witches in the room who had long realized the inevitability of the moment (i.e. the moment that Harry and Hermione kissed, not the moment that Harry would strip down starkers) sighed, smiled knowingly, and took up a new three-beat cheer. *“Her-mi-one! Her-mi-one! Her-mi-one!”* Ginny Weasly and the few other witches in the room who had harbored delusionary ideas about snagging The Boy-Who-Lived for them selves sat on their hands, rather than clap them. **oo00OO00oo** Harry and Hermione were thirty seconds into an on-stage snog when a French-accented voice called out, “ ‘Ooray for you two…but we still want bits!” The Boy-Who-Lived snorted, and broke the kiss so that he could look over Hermione’s shoulder. “Who do you think that was,” he asked. “Fleur or her sister?” “Could’ve been their mum,” Hermione snarked. “Think they’d mind if I swept you away to someplace a little more private?” “Yeah…probably everyone but Ginny.” “Why do you say that?” Harry asked. “She….she claimed that your bits weren’t worth showing off.” “She did, did she?” Hermione responded with a nod. “Would you think any less of me if I set out to prove her wrong?” Hermione smiled as she snaked a hand in between them and gave his crotch a firm squeeze. “I think that I’d be more disappointed if you didn’t.” “Well, then,” said Harry. “It’s time we put on a show.” “We?” Hermione asked nervously. Harry nodded. “You’re already on-stage, Hermione…might as well help out.” He then broke free of the embrace and turned towards the crowd. Holding his arms out, he said, “I seem to be horribly overdressed for the occasion.” Hermione blushed, and put her hand to her mouth. It took a raised eyebrow from Harry (and lots of offers from the crowd to swap places with her) for Hermione to suck up her courage to continue unbuttoning Harry’s robes. **oo00OO00oo** As Tonks pranced around the stage, whipping up the crowd’s enthusiasm, Harry kicked off his socks and shoes, then stood still as Hermione began to undress him. The dark green robes fell to the ground, revealing a darker green, open-necked button-down shirt and tight black trousers. When Hermione stood in front of him and began to unbutton his shirt, a few complaints were shouted out about obstructed views, so she spun around Harry and continued her work from behind. “I think I like this way better,” Harry snarked, as Hermione spooned up against his back and snaked her hands underneath his arms. As she rubbed her chest against his back, he added, “It feels like you do too.” Hermione responded by slipping a hand inside Harry’s half unbuttoned shirt and tweaking his right nipple. “Is that a complaint, Harry?” “Certainly not,” Harry replied, as he pushed his bum back against Hermione body. Hermione responded by nibbling the nape of his neck, and pulling Harry’s shirt out from his trousers. **Take it as read that the audience responded enthusiastically to this and all subsequent actions on Harry and Hermione’s part**. That only her hands and arms were visible to the crowd only added fuel to the fire, for it made it that much easier for someone to imagine that it was their hands that were roaming. When the dark green shirt slipped off Harry’s bared shoulders, Hermione trailed her hands down his torso and took hold of his leather belt. After swatting away an attempt to sneak her hand down his pants, Harry allowed her to unbuckle him. She took her sweet time slipping the leather strap through her fingers. Once the belt dropped she quickly unbuttoned his trousers, and held their front out as she teased out undoing his zipper. With her hands now holding each side of the trouser front, Hermione pulled them to the side, providing brief flashes of the crimson boxer shorts that lay underneath. With the idea of baring himself to hundreds of witches counterbalancing the arousing dance that Hermione’s fingers were playing, Harry’s flag was flying well under half-mast. Which was fine with him, actually…the last thing he wanted to do right then was to pop out through the unbuttoned fly of his shorts. Not to say that Hermione didn’t her best to raise the flag…as she slowly pulled Harry’s trousers down towards the ground, she crouched down at the same rate. By the time Harry’s trousers were down along his ankles, Hermione was on her knees and her teeth were within striking range of his boxer-covered bum. “Yelp!” Harry said with a start, as Hermione’s teeth left their mark. “Sorry,” Hermione yelled over the music. “Couldn’t help myself.” “Just mind your teeth during the rest of the show!” Hermione opened her mouth in response and dragged her tongue over her front teeth. “Giving my tongue free license, then?” Harry laughed and shook his head as he stepped out of his trousers. “Maybe later, sweetheart,” he replied, as he broke free of her grasp and began to prance about the stage. Tonks let out a loud guffaw as she intercepted his path. Whoever was in charge of the music got inspired, and swapped the song currently playing with Billy Idol’s “Dancing With Myself.” Appreciating the musical humor, Tonks and Harry proceeded to do just that. “You call that dancing, Harry?” Tonks asked, leaning forward so that Harry could hear. “I could ask the same of your flying, Tonks.” “Yeah, yeah….you’re still overdressed, though.” Harry looked down at his boxers. “Anyone else think that I’m overdressed right now?” he yelled out towards the crowd The response was rather obvious. “You could always swap shorts with me,” Tonks offered. Harry smiled. “It would be rather anti-climactic if the crowd caught sight of our bits during the switch.” Waggling her eyebrows, Tonks quipped, “Not if you actually planned on climaxing later on in the show.” With a firm shake of his head, Harry replied, “No chance of that happening, Nymphie.” “At least not until Hermione and you are alone, eh?” “Yeah, right,” yelled Harry, as he tried to match Tonks’s moves. The Auror turned towards Hermione, whose heavy-lidded eyes were focused on the stereoviewic gyrations of Harry Potter’s hips. “Ten galleons says that I am,” she proclaimed. “Sounds like I’d be a winner, either way,” Harry decided with a grin. He looked over at Hermione, then back towards Tonks and said, “You’re on.” *“Take it off! Take it off! Take it off!”* Tonks glanced towards the crowd, then leaned back towards Harry. “You really are wearing too much right now…how are your transfiguration skills?” Harry gave an appraising look, then pulled out his wand. “Back off, Tonks,” he said with a smirk. “Time for me to fly solo for a bit.” As the Auror complied with his request, Harry turned towards the crowd, and magically shortened his boxers into a pair of tight-fitting briefs. The crowd lobbied for an alternative wardrobe. *“Thong! Thong! Thong!”* Harry shook his head and laughed as he paraded back and forth in front of the crowd. The cries for skimpier shorts didn’t drop, though, so he made his way back towards Hermione. He handed her his wand and said, “Here, I think I’ll need some help in back.” Hermione cocked her head. “What makes you think that I could use that?” Harry smiled as he shook his bum for the crowd to keep them occupied. “Let’s just say that my wand has chosen its witch.” The witch in question blushed at the comment, and waved the offered wooden wand in the air. A series of white sparks erupted from the wand’s tip. Her blush only deepened when Harry declared that that wasn’t the wand he was talking about. Seeking to shift attention away from the wand’s reaction (and her own warm glow), she stepped to Harry’s side. “Let’s see now,” she said with a grin. “Should I use a shrinking charm, or a cutting charm?” “Neither, given where that wand is pointing,” Harry shot back. Hermione giggled as she pointed towards the back of Harry’s briefs and contracted the fabric up and in, until only a small triangle remained above a crack-covering piece of string. The witches in attendance showed their appreciation of Hermione’s transfiguration skills. Harry’s back was turned, so he couldn’t see who shouted out, “Fifty points for Gryffidor!” “Do I want to know who just awarded points, Hermione?” “No,” she replied with a smirk. “I don’t think that you do.” She then moved the wand tip to Harry’s front. “Need a little extra fabric here, Harry?” she asked. “It’s starting to look a little tight.” “Is that a complaint?” “Certainly not.” “Think I’ll have a bit of a fly, then,” Harry said, once again giving her that rakish grin. He took his wand back from Hermione and used it to summon Tonks’s broom. He did his best to ignore the appreciative comments when he swung a leg over the broom handle, and launched himself up for some bareback riding. Harry’s first lap around the room was relatively tame, as he got used to the peculiarities of both Tonks’s Nimbus, and his g-string. The crowd didn’t mind the slow pace…all the better for them to catch a good view as he passed over their heads. Once he got comfortable with both the broom and situation, he launched himself into the kind of aerobatics that left no doubt about his identity. There wasn’t enough vertical head space for Wronski feints, but that was okay…the audience seemed rather pleased to see him cruise about using sloth moves, and two-legged hangs that brought him that much closer to their outstretched hands. After about the eighth circuit of the stands, Harry got a little bored, and decided to do something different. He flew back down to the stage next to Hermione, turned towards the crowd, and yelled out, “Did anybody bring a golden snitch with them?” The witches in attendance thought that to be a splendid idea, until nobody was able to produce the requested object. But then a balled-up bit of fabric was thrown down from the upper stands. “You can chase after these, Harry,” a witch called out, as a pair of knickers hit the stage. Harry smirked as he bent down to snag the waistband of the knickers with his wand. “Thanks for the offer,” he called back, “But I was thinking of something that could fly.” “Catch mine while they’re in the air, then!” another witch called out, as a second pair of knickers flew towards Harry. Unfortunately, this second pair of panties were cut high on the thigh, and lacked the weight (and momentum) of the first undergarment. To the audience’s (and stage performer’s) amusement, the thrown pair of knickers fell short of the stage, and landed on top of Ginny Weasley’s head. Hermione walked up to Harry as he hovered on the broomstick and said, “You know, Headmistress McGonagall could probably transfigure a snitch for you.” “Oh sure,” Harry shouted back. “I can just imagine what kind of object she’d choose to start with.” With a grin, Hermione replied, “What makes you so sure that the Headmistress is still wearing her knickers, Harry?” “Too Much Information!” Harry declared, adding, “Keep talking like that, and the show will shrivel up quick.” Hermione winked. “You know, Harry…there’s only one way that the audience will let you end the show for them.” Harry rolled his eyes as he reached for his waistband. “Yeah, yeah…full Monty. Shall I just get it over with, then?” “Quicker your show is over, Harry…sooner that mine can start.” Harry’s eyes twinkled in anticipation as he turned to the crowd, and yelled out, “In lieu of an actual snitch, my dear friend Hermione Granger has graciously agreed to help end my show by animating a pair of knickers.” As he turned towards Hermione, she asked, “Whose knickers, Harry…yours or mine?” Harry smirked as he pointed his wand down towards his crotch and banished his g-string into Susan Bones’s lap. The crowd’s vocal reaction to Harry’s full frontal nudity forced him to yell his response. “Oops…mine have just gone missing!” Hermione did her best to maintain eye contact with Harry. Her best wasn’t good enough when he tossed her his (wooden) wand With the crowd’s gaze locked firmly on the same spot as Hermione’s, nobody noticed as she reached underneath her dress and slipped off her panties. Nobody, that is, except for Harry…who was far more interested in Hermione’s reaction to his state of undress than anyone else’s in the room. Thrilled that Harry had just proven that her memory of his length and girth were indeed accurate, Hermione stepped up and wrapped a possessive arm around his bared waist. She then stared straight towards Ginny Weasley. Hoping that the red haired witch was neither too daft nor too drunk to catch the symbolism, Hermione smugly slipped her sheer knickers onto the end of the broomstick shaft. “Well that’s a little too easy for me to reach, don’t you think?” asked Harry. Hermione smiled as she maintained her gaze towards the front row. She grabbed hold of the broomstick shaft a few inches in front of Harry’s shaft, and stroked up and down its wooden length suggestively. And as the crowd once again chanted, *“Harr-y! Harr-y! Harr-y!”* she followed along, whilst mouthing the words *“All mine! All mine! All mine!”* “Hermione?” Harry asked. “What are you doing?” “Claiming what’s rightfully mine,” she replied sweetly. She then raised Harry’s wand towards her knickers and magically launched them into the air. “Now, Harry,” she said with a swat of his bared bum. “Go claim what’s rightfully yours.” Harry gave her a cheeky salute, then raced off to end the public portion of his performance just as quickly as possible. 5. Chapter 5 ------------ **Wizard Gone Wild** **A/N:** So this was going to be an epilogue…it really was. But then I thought, “Why wasn’t Susan’s best friend from school and likely maid of honor at the party?” And rather than callously kill off Hannah Abbott, I thought of a viable excuse for her absence. And then that excuse took off, and…well, you can read what happened. There will be more to this story, of course. **Disclaimer:** Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc. **Chapter Five** On the morning after Harry bared his all to all those witches, his subconscious dragged his brain away from slumberland with some classic good news/bad news. *Good News:* He wasn’t waking up in his own bed. *Bed News:* It wasn’t Hermione’s. *Really Bad News:* He’d woken up in this bed before. The stiff linen sheets and gown…the residual taste of medicinal potions…the spell-scrubbed antiseptic absence of smells…he knew where he was even without opening his eyes. So…he didn’t bother opening those eyes, as he began to check the state of his extremities. His toes wiggled, his fingers wiggled…he could bend his knees and raise his arms. All good. Harry then checked the only extremity that really mattered for a man, whither he be a wizard or muggle. He reached under the sheets, grabbed a firm hold of himself, and sighed in relief. “Now,” he thought to himself, “how in Hades did I end up here?” He turned his head to the side and frowned. The chair that Hermione had often claimed during her vigils was empty, but the bed adjacent to the “Harry James Potter Memorial Bed” was not, for Hermione was in it. Harry’s immediate concerns that she was also injured eased when he realized that she wasn’t dressed in a hospital gown (as he was). Instead, she was still wearing that little black dress, as she slept on her side, facing away from him. Harry’s eyes trailed down that dress, from Hermione’s wonderful mass of brown curls, to where the hemline had ridden up over her bum…a bum not covered by knickers, and only partially covered by blankets. The sight of Hermione’s exposed flesh created the expected redistribution of blood within Harry’s pelvic region. This erection, however, created sensations that were quite unexpected. “Eeeeyyy-ahhhh!” Hermione woke instantly, and flipped over towards Harry. “Harry! What’s wrong?” she cried out. “It hurts!” he cried out, grabbing his crotch. Harry quickly pulled off the covers to his bed, only to discover something even more distressing. “It hurts! **And it’s gone!**” “Let me get the healer,” Hermione replied. As she raced off to the nurse’s office at one end of the ward, Harry tried to make sense of his senses. It felt as if someone was dragging a sharp knife up and down the bits that his blood-covered hand was clutching, but Harry couldn’t see the wounded area…no penis…no scrotum…nothing but a flat patch of skin. The Boy-Who-Stripped turned towards the sound of feet rushing from the Nurse’s office. “Hannah?” he winced. “What are you doing here?” “I could ask the same of you,” the Healer Apprentice quipped, as she pulled out her wand. “Let go,” she stated crisply. Harry reflexively complied with the orders, and allowed Hannah to cast suture charms that closed the open cuts that covered his rapidly shrinking shaft. In only a few moment’s time, he was flaccid, and the cuts were healed. “Better,” Harry sighed. “What the hell is going on, Hannah?” “I don’t know just yet,” the witch replied, as she grabbed the magically self-updating medical chart that hung from the foot of his bed. Hannah’s eyes drifted towards Harry’s crotch. “Harry, can you tell me what just happened?” “I just woke up,” Harry explained. “And it was gone!” “What was gone?” “My…wand!” “Your bits are there, Harry…trust me,” Hermione said, as she reached for his hand. “But….” Hannah eyes lit up “Of course, Hermione…he doesn’t know yet.” “Know what?” Harry asked, as Hermione smiled in recognition. Hannah took a notepad and muggle ballpoint pen from a pocket and scribbled out a short message. “Read this,” she ordered, holding the notepad in front of Harry’s face. Her patient read the message, looked from the parchment down towards his crotch, and let out a sigh of relief. “But why?” “Later, Harry…we need to document your symptoms while they’re still fresh in mind.” “Fine,” he muttered. “Did you wake up in pain?” Hannah’s patient paused for a moment. “No.” “Did you wake up with an erection?” “What?” he asked. Hannah rolled her eyes. “Harry, think of me as your Healer, rather than your former classmate. As your Healer, I need to know…did you wake up with an erection, or did you become sexually aroused at a point in time after you woke up?” Harry sighed, and glanced rather sheepishly towards Hermione. “Afterwards,” he admitted. The edge of Hannah’s mouth twitched as wrote down Harry’s response. “Thinking of anyone in particular at the time?” Hermione asked with a coy smile. Harry snorted. “It was something I saw…not something I was thinking about.” “I see,” Hermione replied. “And what exactly caused your erection?” Harry frowned in embarrassment. “Does Hannah really need to know?” “No,” Hannah replied with a smile, “but I imagine that Hermione does.” Harry rolled his eyes. “It was you, of course,” he told Hermione. “Your dress was up around your hips, but your blankets were down around your thighs. “Oh,” Hermione said, blushing. “Couldn’t help myself,” Harry admitted. The former Hufflepuff nodded as she pocketed her notepad and drew her wand. “I should take a closer look at those wounds I just healed,” she stated. “I could have sworn I had closed them all properly last night.” She bent over the bed and frowned. “Hmmmm…” Hannah stated, as she examined a long thin scar line. “Hermione?” she asked, pointing towards the mark. “Do you remember that diagonal cut that’s right under the crown being there last night?” “What?” asked Harry. Hermione ignored his question, and bent over the other side of the bed, so that her nose and Hannah’s were both but a few inches from Harry’s bits. “No, I don’t….that’s a new one.” “I agree,” the Healer Apprentice replied. She then stood to record her observations on Harry’s chart. “Is it my turn a few questions?” “Sure, Harry,” Hermione replied. “What happened and how did we get here?” “You mean that you don’t remember?” Hannah asked. “Maybe you should have examined both of his heads last night,” Hermione quipped. Healer Abbott nodded. “There’s always a slight risk of short-term memory loss when you combine firewhiskey, calming draught, and dreamless sleep potion.” “Hermione,” Harry asked calmly. “What in Merlin’s name is going on?” His best friend bit her lower lip. “Well, Harry…how much of last night do you remember?” Harry frowned, then furrowed his brow. “I remember….Merlin, was that was a weird dream…volunteering to be a stripper for Susan’s party, and buzzing Minerva’s head while I flew bare-arsed on a broomstick…and chasing after your airborne knickers…” “Erm…Harry?” “Yes, Hermione?” “That actually happened.” “Oh.” he said softly. A beat later, he moaned more loudly, as most of the night previous came crashing back into his consciousness. “So I really did flash my bits?” “You did more than just flash them, Harry,” Hermione said with a wry smile. “Really?” asked Harry worriedly. “I didn’t do anything inappropriate with Susan, or…or with you, did I?” Hermione smiled. “You did nothing inappropriate with Susan. Whether what you and I did was appropriate or not….” “Oh, no…you didn’t….we didn’t….?” Hermione giggled. “Sorry, Harry, just some more teasing…we didn’t put on *that* much of a show.” “How much is ‘that much,’ Hermione?” “Well then,” interrupted Hannah with a grin, “I’ve fixed things up best I can for now, I’ll just let you two sort things out.” Harry reached out and stopped the Healer Apprentice by grabbing her arm. “Oh, no, Hannah…you got involved with Hermione and me at some point last night.” “Mr. Potter,” Hannah huffed. “At no time did I engage in any unprofessional conduct with my patient…unless the potions didn’t work and you something happened in your dreams.” Sitting on the chance for a witty reply, Harry nodded. “Okay, fine…but I’m still waiting for some answers here.” “Certainly,” Hannah replied stiffly. “Mr. Potter, you were brought into the Hogwarts Infirmary at 1:45am this morning by Miss Granger. Upon examination, I discovered severe lacerations and tissue damage to your penis. After providing appropriate medical care, I held you overnight for observation, and so that Madame Pomfrey had opportunity to review my diagnosis and your treatment plan.” Harry held up his hands in mock surrender. “Easy Hannah…I’m not accusing you of doing anything wrong…it’s just that…last thing I remember is Hermione on stage with me, grabbing hold of my…well, not my hand…and next thing I know, I wake up in the Infirmary with a nicked-up invisible penis…and where is Madame Pomfrey, anyway?” “She got called in to St. Mungo’s to help deal with a rash of dragon pox cases last night,” Hannah explained. “As a Healer Apprentice, I was qualified to hold down the castle in her absence.” She then asked, “Would you rather I not treat you, Harry?” “No, no…not at all,” Harry replied. “I mean…I don’t have any problems with you treating me…It’s just that…well, you’re a friend, and a witch, and having you treating my…well, this area of my anatomy…” Hermione laughed. “So now you get all shy and modest?” she asked. “Sorry, Harry, but your barn door was left wide open last night, and your horse was out and galloping.” “Is that a complaint?” “No,” Hermione replied with a smirk. “Just an observation.” “Sounds like there was a lot of observation going on last night,” Hannah sighed. “I’m really sorry that I missed the party.” “Me too,” Hermione replied. “But at least you’ll be able to attend the wedding this afternoon, right?” Hannah smiled and nodded. “Madame Pomfrey promised to be back by then.” “If not sooner,” said a voice, as the Hogwarts nurse stepped out of the floo. She strode briskly towards Harry’s bed and folded her arms. “Will there ever be a day when I need not anticipate your presence here, Mr. Potter?” Harry offered the nurse a weak smile. “I assure you, Poppy, that despite your radiance and charm, that I would have much rather woken in a different bed this morning.” Hannah snorted, then leaned over to whisper into Hermione’s ear. “As if the two of you would have actually done any sleeping in your bed.” “Ssshhh!” Hermione scolded. Madame Pomfrey pretended not to hear as she pulled down the covers that Harry had pulled up when she first arrived. “Good Heavens, Healer Abbott!” she cried. “What required you to amputate Mr. Potter’s penis?” “But I didn’t!” insisted Hannah. “He’s all there.” “Then why do I see a pelvic region that is anatomically incorrect?” “The note, Hannah,” chirped Harry. “What?” the witch asked. “Oh, yes…how could I forget?” Hannah ripped off the top page of her notepad and handed it to her supervisor. The handwritten message on this piece of parchment read, “*“I know what Harry Potter’s reproductive organs look like.”* Poppy eyes went wide when she read the note. Those eyes then shifted from note to nether regions. “A *Fidelius* Charm?” she asked. “Would somebody explain the need for this kind of magic?” “Well,” said Hermione, “Under a set of barely plausible circumstances, Harry agreed to perform a striptease for Susan Bones and a paid audience of several hundred witches…I’m surprised that you didn’t hear about it, actually.” The mediwitch snorted. “Some of us did have jobs to do last night.” She then added, “And that prompted the need for your charms, Miss Granger?” Hermione blushed at the double entendre. “We didn’t want pictures spread over the front page of the *Prophet*, so we confiscated cameras at the door. The secret protected by the *Fidelius* keeps someone in the audience from sharing an explicit and anatomically correct memory with the press.” Poppy nodded. “It’ll keep a lot of witches frustrated as well, I imagine.” Hermione shrugged her shoulders. “They were promised the chance to see all of Harry…nobody guaranteed that they’d be able to recall what they saw.” “I’m a little worried about they will remember,” said Harry. “Makes be out to be a dickless Ken doll.” “Language, Mr. Potter.” “Sorry,” he replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “Don’t worry just yet,” Hermione told Harry. “I haven’t had the chance to interview anyone who saw you, but hasn’t been told the secret.” “They’d see what I saw, I imagine,” Harry opined. “A fully flat front.” “True,” said Hermione with a twinkle in her eye. “But they might be able to recall how excited they and the others were when they saw what they can no longer recall seeing…and they’d still be able recall the bulge in your thong, and your tight bum, and the sounds of all of those panting witches, and the musky scent of pheromones that lay thick in air…” “Careful, Hermione, you’re waxing rather lyrical,” Hannah teased. “Oh shush.” “So what’s with the change in plan for secret keeper?” Harry asked. “It was supposed to be me.” “Yes it was,” Hermione agreed. “But you were too out of it after the calming draught to participate in the spell work, and I couldn’t make myself the secret keeper, so…” “So you better be nice to me, or else,” Hannah informed Harry. “Healer Abbott!” scolded Poppy. “Must I remind you of your Oaths?” “No, Ma’am,” Hannah replied with a smirk. “Just teasing the patient, ma’am.” “Yes, well teasing is the last thing Mr. Potter needs right now, given the level of trauma.” Poppy then reached for the medical charts, handed them to her assistant, and said, “Healer Abbott, we are now doing rounds…present your case.” “Yes, Ma’am,” Hannah replied, as she looked at the case history that she’d worked up the night before. “The patient is a twenty-two year old wizard who arrived at the infirmary with severe lacerations on the penis. According to the wizard’s companion, the cause of the injury was spell-related, but not due to spell damage.” “Miss Granger stated this?” Poppy asked. “How did the patient describe his circumstances?” “Erm…given the nature and extent of his injuries, the patient displayed transient bouts of non-responsive incoherency.” “I’d like to see just how coherent you’d be if your bits were nearly ripped off,” Harry chided. “Oh, so you remember now?” Hermione asked. “Good, then that memory loss really was short-term.” “Yes, I remember,” Harry replied. “Don’t imagine it’s something I’ll ever forget.” “Then do explain,” asked Madame Pomfrey. Harry rolled his eyes. “Well, I’d just finished giving the witches a good show. I was standing with Hermione on stage starkers…well, I was starkers, she still had her dress on…and then she said that we should find someplace more…private…for her performance.” He snorted when Poppy cocked an eyebrow towards Hermione. “So,” Harry continued, “she suggested her place, but I thought that she’d had too much to drink to safely apparate on her own. The lines for the floo were horrific, so I offered to side-along her.” “And?” “And,” interjected Hermione, “Harry told me to hold on tight, and I thought that I’d be cute and grab a waist-high Harry handle.” “Waist-high Harry…oh, I see,” Poppy stated. “Was this a one-handed or two-handed grip?” “Two-handed,” Hermione admitted with a deep blush. “Needless to say, she caught me by surprise,” Harry admitted. “Combine that with my inability to land on my feet when I travel magically, and…” “I forgot about our balance issues,” Hermione admitted. “His natural clumsiness, and my drink-induced grace.” “Hey!” “Well, it’s true, Harry,” said Hermione. “Long story short…” “Ouch, now there’s a poor choice of words, all things considered,” Harry stated. “Oops, sorry,” Hermione replied. “When we arrived in my flat, Harry went tumbling one way, I went tumbling another way, and I tried to take my Harry handle with me.” Harry involuntarily brought his legs together at the memory. Poppy turned towards Hannah. “Please continue, Healer,” “Yes, Ma’am,” Hannah replied. “As I said, the patient arrived here with severe lacerations on the penis. Once we got him in bed, I examined the wounded area, cast diagnostic charms, then magically healed the opened wounds. The patient was given a healing potion, pain potion, calming draught, and dreamless sleep potion, and held overnight for observation.” The Hogwarts nurse nodded, then asked for Harry’s charts. As she flipped through the pages, she asked, “But that isn’t the end of the story, is it, Healer Abbott?” “No, Ma’am,” she replied. “The patient indicated that he woke this morning pain-free, but subsequently experienced a recurrence of symptoms when he became…tumescent.” “So the suturing charms you used last night didn’t take hold?” “No, Ma’am, they held,” Healer Abbott replied. “When I examined the patient this morning, I observed a pattern of cuts that were distinct from those previously healed.” “Indicating….” “Indicating that the original wounds were more than just physical in nature.” As Poppy nodded in agreement, Harry asked, “So it was more than just Hermione holding on too tightly?” Hannah nodded in reply. “I believe so, Harry…these were new cuts, so…unless another pair of hands were grabbing your penis too tightly this morning….” Madame Pomfrey arched her eyebrows towards Harry. “No time for modesty, young man…were you masturbating this morning?” Harry blanched. “No, of course not…of all the things…” Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder. “Harry, it’s okay if you were, I mean…if the sight of my fanny was….” The patient shook his head. “Hermione, that was what got me hard, but I didn’t have time to do anything about it…I swear!” “Calm down, Harry,” Poppy stated. “We believe you…just had to ask.” “Yes, Poppy,” Harry replied. “So you think I’ve been cursed, or something?” “It’s possible,” she replied, looking at his charts. “Although….Healer Abbott, did you suspect that your patient was cursed last night?” “No, Ma’am.” “Then why did you cast a *Finite Incantatum*?” “Well, Ma’am…given the nature of the injury, I..erm, well…I thought that it might be related to sexual activity, and that an *Engorgement* charm had been cast.” “And did the counterspell have any effect?” “No Ma’am,” Hannah admitted. “He’s naturally well-hung.” “Is that an appropriate clinical observation, Healer Abbott?” “Sorry..erm….the patient’s abnormally oversized…dimensions…were not magically augmented.” “I told you that last night,” Hermione muttered. “But did you believe me?” “Don’t be too harsh on her, Miss Granger,” Poppy said with a smile. “It wouldn’t have been the first time that a young wizard limped into this ward with a self-applied *Engorgement* charm gone bad.” She looked back down at the charts. “You detected a contraceptive charm, Healer Abbott?” “Yes, Ma’am,” she replied. Hearing this, Hermione bent down and whispered into Harry’s ear. “Were you planning on getting lucky last night, Mister?” Harry shook his head. “Just some *Constant Vigilance*,” he replied. Poppy cast a diagnostic charm towards Harry’s crotch. “I see that this charm is still active,” she noted. “Yes, Ma’am,” Hannah replied. “When it resisted my *Finite* spell. I suspected that it was the long-term, self-administered version of the charm, but the patient was in no condition to cancel his own spell.” “But he is now,” stated Poppy. She turned to Harry and asked him to remove the contraceptive charm. He raised an eyebrow. “Think that there’s a parasitic curse hiding underneath that spell signature?” he asked. The nurse shrugged. “That’s why I asked.” Harry nodded, and cancelled the charm. Poppy then cast her own diagnostic spells over Harry’s crotch while the others watched with nervous interest. “Hmmmm,” she finally uttered. “Something *is* off here.” Harry leaned around to read the “print-out” that was magically hanging above Poppy’s wand. “Oh, Merlin, somebody has cursed my bits.” “It would appear so,” the nurse replied. “But how?” Hermione asked. “We were watching for wands during the show.” “Which wand, though?” asked Poppy flippantly. “Mr. Potter, I don’t suppose you remember being cursed last night?” Harry shook his head. “And the symptoms were coincident with your appartion?” Harry nodded. “I has hurting in a bad way just as soon as I landed in Hermione’s flat…that’s why we thought it was because of her….tight grip.” Poppy nodded. “I think that we’ll need to go back and review the incident.” She then handed the charts to Hannah and strode towards the fireplace. Throwing a pinch of powder into the fire, she called out, “Headmistress McGonagall?” It took more than a few moments for a weary-looking head to pop up from the flames. “What is it, Poppy?” “I have need of your pensieve for a patient that I’m working on…could you step through with it?” “Is this an emergency, or do I have time to get dressed?” Madame Pomfrey looked over her shoulder towards the occupied bed, but decided that Harry had suffered enough teasing that morning. “You have time to dress, Minerva.” While Poppy was talking with the Headmistress, Harry, Hermione and Hannah were discussing a different topic. “So why the wording change, Hermione?” Harry asked. “What?” “The protected secret…you switched from ‘Harry Potter’s penis’ to ‘Harry Potter’s reproductive organs’.” “That was my suggestion,” Hannah explained. “Without the word change, your testicles would have been memorable…not that they aren’t memorable already.” “Is that a clinical diagnosis, Healer Abbott?” Hermione teased. “Shush,” the witch replied with a smile. “Harry, I thought about what it would look like if I could see your scrotum, but not your penis, and figured that ‘all or nothing’ was a better option.” Harry nodded. “Makes sense, I guess.” Minerva McGonagall chose that moment to step through the infirmary’s floo connection with a pensieve in her hands. “So what’s it this time?” a crabby headmistress asked. “Identify a mystery ingredient in a potion gone bad?” *“More like identify the mystery magic on a penis gone missing,”* Poppy thought to herself. But being the professional that she was, she had no plans on verbalizing this assessment…at least not until she was out of the earshot of the patient. “Actually, Min, it’s a bigger mystery than that,” she replied, quite pleased with her double entendre. “One of the little lions, I suppose?” “He’s a lion, alright,” quipped Poppy, as she reached the curtains surrounding Harry’s bed. “As for little….from what I’ve been told, you should know as well as any other witch.” McGonagall’s arched eyebrow crept even higher towards her hairline when the nurse pulled back the curtains and revealed a half-naked Harry, with Hannah and Hermione standing by his bedside. “Godric’s gonads, Potter!” Minerva exclaimed. “What did you do to your….where did they…” The Headmistress’s eyes darted from Harry’s pelvis to Hermione’s eyes. “Don’t tell me that he splinched himself last night!” Hermione smiled and shook her head. “No…no splinching.” “Then what happened to his….” While Minerva was struggling to complete her sentence with an appropriate term, Harry rolled his eyes and pulled the sheet back over his body. “I’m all there,” he stated, waving down towards his waist. “As you can now clearly see…well, maybe not see, but infer.” “You’ve magically hidden your…you assets?” Harry shook his head. “A bit of charm work performed to hide knowledge of what those assets look like.” “I don’t understand.” “Think about my performance last night,” Harry said with a smirk. “What do you see in your mind’s eye when I banished my shorts towards Susan?” “I…well…that’s strange.” “You think it strange that your memory matches what you just saw?” “No, it’s strange that the crowd reacted the way it did, given how little you showed them.” Harry nodded. “Guess the wording worked after all.” “But why….” “Perhaps this can be discussed later?” asked Madame Pomfrey. “Mr. Potter, if you would be so kind as to extract your memory of the incident? The Headmistress and I will enter the memory to look for any signs of a cast curse.” “Somebody cursed Mr. Potter’s penis?” McGonagall asked plainly. “It would appear so,” Poppy replied. Hermione realized something at that moment, and turned towards her best friend. “Erm, Harry….if she’s going into the memory, she’s going to have to be able to see *all* of the memory.” Harry cringed. “Poppy?” The Nurse nodded. “A medical necessity, I’m afraid.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Fine…Hannah, if you would?” The Healer Apprentice handed Minerva the handwritten note. The Headmistress read the message and frowned. “Most irregular,” she stated. She then turned to Harry. “And an interesting choice of secret keepers.” “Wasn’t my idea,” Harry said, pointing towards Hermione. This really confused the Headmistress. “Miss Granger?” “The spell caster can’t also be the secret keeper, and Harry was howling in pain at the time, so…..” “I see,” Minerva replied. “Let me guess,” Harry then snarked. “You’ll need to see if the message worked before you hop into the pensieve?” McGonagall snorted. “No need to wave your bits in front of me again, Mr. Potter…I’ll know soon enough once I’m inside the memory.” “Fabulous,” Harry replied. “Anybody else you think should review the memory?” “Well,” Madame Pomfrey considered. “The DADA professor would be an obvious choice, but since he’s also the patient….” “Why couldn’t I?” Harry asked. “Because I don’t care to treat any recurrence while we’re in the pensieve,” she explaind. “But….you think that I’d get a stiffie looking at a memory of my naked self?” “No,” Hermione interjected. “But you might get a rise out of what I was doing, or what Susan was doing…not that you’d be able to notice.” Harry started to consider Hermione’s response, then jumped when she cuffed the side of his head. “Get your mind away from there,” she ordered. “Don’t want to start bleeding again, do you?” Harry sighed. “Alright.” Poppy then stated, “I think it best if the Headmistress and I take the first plunge alone…should we need assistance, we can always review the memory with someone like Auror Tonks.” McGonagall nodded. “Or Professor Vector, or Sprout, or…” Harry rolled his eyes. “Sure, why not invite the entire Hogwarts staff?” Minerva gave Harry a sly smile. “Would you like Hagrid, or Horace, or Filius to review last night’s show, Mr. Potter?” Harry responded by shutting his eyes tightly and rubbing the closed lids. “So how far in do you want me to go, Poppy?” “Excuse me?” “How far into the memory, Poppy,” Harry replied. “What did you think I was asking.” “Never you mind,” the nurse blustered.. Hermione then said. “It should be up to you, Harry…you were the star of the show.” Harry winked. “Not from my perspective, sweetheart,” he stated, thinking back to her flashed knickers. The memory triggered a physiological response that was counterproductive to his recovery. “Eeeeyyy-ahhhh!” he yelled, reaching for his crotch. “Oh, dear,” Poppy sighed, quickly pulling her wand. “Healer Abbott, you banish the blood while I try and close the reopened lacerations.” “Yes, Ma’am.” “Do you see a pattern emerging here, Mr. Potter?” Poppy asked. “All too well,” Harry grimaced. “Will someone please tell me what is going on?” Minerva asked. “Harry’s bits start to bleed whenever he gets hard,” Hermione explained. She then turned towards the patient. “Dare I ask what set you off?” “Maybe later,” Harry said with a wince. “When I can risk thinking about a response without fear of bleeding out.” “Strangest thing I’ve seen in a while,” Poppy stated. She then looked at Hermione and said, “Perhaps it would be safer if you were to focus on the memory to be extracted, dear?” “Yes, I imagine it would,” Hermione replied quietly, her eyes showing concern as she locked onto Harry’s. She then closed her eyes, and focused her thoughts. A few beats later, she placed the tip of her wand against her temple and pulled a long string of smoke out. Once the string cleared her hairline, Hermione opened her eyes and guided the memory into the bowl of the pensieve. “That looked rather long,” Harry said. Hermione shrugged her shoulders. “Better to give more of a memory than less.” “Stay close to your patient in our absence, Healer Apprentice,” Poppy told Hannah. “Yes Ma’am.” There was a period of silence once the Headmistress and Nurse disappeared into the pensive. While Hannah updated her notes, Hermione thought about possible curses, and Harry tried not to think of anything that would cause a stiffie. Finally, Hermione broke the quiet. “We should start eliminating variables.” “What?” Harry asked. “We need isolate the area of effect.” “That’s easy enough,” Harry stated, as he protectively pulled his knees up to his chest.” “Not like that Harry,” she admonished. “We need to work on cause and effect.” “What’s to work on?” Harry asked. “I think of you, I get hard, I start to bleed.” “Now, if that’s not an expression true love, what is?” smirked Hannah. “Oh shush,” she replied. “Harry, you laid out the situation quite nicely. The cuts are the effect, but is your erection the triggering mechanism, or the randy thoughts that caused the erection?” She then turned to Hannah. “Could you cast a partial paralysis spell to immobilize Harry from the waist down?” Hannah thought for a moment. “I think that would be okay,” she decided. “Do I get to weigh in?” “Harry,” Hermione said impatiently. “If you can’t trust your healer or your girlfriend, whom can you trust?” “Hermione…do you really think of yourself as my girlfriend?” “Erm…Harry, don’t…stop thinking about that…about me…” “Why not?” “Hannah?” Hermione asked. The healer nodded and cast the paralysis spell. “I said, why not?” Harry stated. “I know you did, Harry,” Hermione said, reaching down to touch his cheek with the back of her hand. “It’s just that I didn’t want to see you bleed again.” “Why…why would the idea of you being my girlfriend be bad?” “Because…you see…erm…” “Spit it out, Hermione.” “Okay,” Hermione said, as she closed her eyes. “It’s just that when I think about you possibly being my boyfriend, that gets me thinking about certain things I’d like to do with you, and certain positions that I’d like to try, and….” Hermione opened her eyes, and let out a low-pitched moan, as she pinched one of her already hardened, dress-covered nipples. “Can you see what those thoughts do to me, Harry?” “Oh, yeah,” he growled. Hermione licked her lips. “And once I do what I just did, I get even more excited, and can’t help but….” As Hermione started to drop a hand up underneath her dress, Harry nodded towards Hannah and asked, “Hermione…shouldn’t you be telling me this somewhere more…private?” Hermione smiled, and shook her head as she took a few steps back and scooted up onto the side of the adjacent bed. “Why not here, Harry?” she purred, tracing a finger up and down her bared thigh. “We’re all friends here, right?” Hannah snorted. “That’s right,” she replied. “See, Harry?” Hermione continued. “So tell me…what are you thinking about right now?” Harry sighed and shook his head. “I’m thinking about replacing your finger with my tongue.” Hermione smiled. “Oh, Harry, are you really thinking those kinds of dirty thoughts?” “Oh, yessssss…” he hissed. This answer sparked a dramatic change in Hermione’s mood. She opened her eyes, smiled brightly, and hopped off of the bed. “Taking notes, then, Hannah?” The Healer Apprentice nodded. “I certainly am, you clever little minx.” Harry scowled. “What did I just miss?” “The removal of a variable,” Hermione replied matter-of-factly. “I subjected you to a combination of visual and verbal stimuli designed to be sexually arousing.” “And did a bang-up job of it, from my perspective,” Hannah quipped. “Why Hannah,” Hermione said with a grin. “Were my stimuli affecting you as well as your patient?” “No comment, you wench,” Hannah joked. Harry shook his head at the word play. “So you teased me something fierce, and I reacted.” “But only partially,” Hermione replied. “Your mind was on overdrive, but your bits didn’t bleed.” “Well, duh…how could they with that paralysis spell?” “Thereby supporting my conclusion,” Hermione stated. Harry chewed on his lips. “So I can think about things that get me stiff, and I’ll be okay just as long as I don’t actually get stiff?” “I think so,” Hermione replied. “Of course, the only way to test that hypothesis would be for you to get an erection without being sexually aroused.” “And how would I do that?” Harry asked. “Direct prostate massage?” Hannah suggested. Hermione turned to the healer. “And you call *me* a minx,” she quipped. “Is there a spell for that?” Hannah shook her head. “Yeah, I wish….I’d have to use my finger.” “Oh, and it would be a big sacrifice for you to have to do that to the Boy-You-Crushed-On?” Hermione said with a smirk. “Quiet, you!” Hannah hissed. “Do what?” Harry demanded. The Headmistress and Hogwarts Nurse pulled out of the memory before Hermione had opportunity to provide a proctologic explanation. “See anything?” Hermione asked. Poppy nodded her head. “It appears that both of you were struck by a curse just the moment before you apparated,” the Headmistress stated. “I was cursed, too?” the young witch asked. “I’m afraid so,” Poppy stated. “You both cast off a brief dull orange glow.” “But I’m not suffering from any symptoms,” Hermione complained. The Hogwarts nurse nodded. “Maybe that’s because you haven’t been aroused like Mr. Potter has?” Hermione blushed brightly as she admitted she had been sexually aroused more than once that morning. “Well, then,” McGonagall said with a smile. “That lends support to the alternative hypothesis.” “What’s the alternative?” Harry asked. “That Miss Granger is part of the curse trigger.” This caused Hermione to scowl. “Oh, that would be something that a vindictive witch might do, wouldn’t it?” “What?” Harry asked. “Cast a curse that hurts you whenever you are physically excited by…well, me…rather than some other witch.” Harry took a larger than normal bite down onto his lip as he tried to digest that tidbit of information. “So…it could be that those cuts wouldn’t form every time I got hard, but only when I got hard thinking about or watching you?” “Vindictive, indeed,” Hannah stated. Harry then asked an even more difficult follow-up question. “So…how do you propose we eliminate that variable?” Hermione frowned. “That’s obvious, isn’t it?” she stated. “But what if….what if I don’t want to think about another witch that way?” Harry asked. Hermione’s eyes, which had be focusing on the infirmary floor, shot up in response. “Oh, Harry…do you really mean that?” The Boy-Who-Lived crawled out onto a very long limb. “Absolutely.” Hermione leapt at Harry’s admission and buried him in a horizontal bear hug. “Hermione!” the Headmistress shouted. “Get off of Mr. Potter right now!” The young witch chose to ignore her former Head of House in favor of planting kisses all over Harry’s face. “Let me try,” Hannah stated to the other witches. She leaned over and whispered into Hermione’s ear. “He knows you love him, Hermione, but if you keep snogging, he’s going to bleed again.” Hermione yelped and jumped back away from Harry’s embrace as quickly as possible. “Oh, Harry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to….” “It’s okay,” he replied. “I’m glad that you’re happy that I said it.” “I’m more than happy, buster,” she stated, “I’m ecstatic, I’m excited, I’m…..” She abandoned a fuller description in the interest of not giving her boyfriend ideas that might hurt. “Listen, Harry,” she said. “After hearing you say that, I don’t have any problems with you forcing yourself to think of another witch that way…just to be able to find a cure that will…..” “Yes, yes….please, Hermione, stop saying anything more,” Poppy quipped. “But how…..who?” Harry asked. “It’s not the sort of thing you want to ask someone, is it…’Excuse me, miss, but will you help cure a medical condition by sexually arousing me’?” “It doesn’t have to be a live witch, does it?” Hermione asked. “It could be a memory, or some…reading material?” “Reading material?” Harry asked with a wry smile. “Anything specific that you’d care to lend me from your bedside table?” “Stop, Harry, or you’ll regret it,” McGonagall said. “Miss Granger, perhaps it’s for the best if you remove your…temptations…from Harry’s sight for a short while?” A conflicted look came over Hermione’s face, until she found a way to combine her elation over Harry’s expressed feelings with a tried-and-true type of pleasure. She nodded, and said, “I’ll be in the library, doing some research on possible curses.” “Sounds good, Miss Granger,” Minerva replied. “I’d give you a kiss good-bye, Harry, but…..” Harry teased his new girlfriend by covering his ears and shutting his eyes. “La, La, La…I can’t hear Hermione talk dirty to me…La, La, La…..” “Prat!” Hermione replied, as she walked out the Infirmary’s doors. Harry opened his eyes upon hearing the door slam, and turned towards McGonagall. “I assume that you had something specific in mind?” “Yes, I do,” she replied. “Tilly?” One of the Hogwarts house-elves popped into the Infirmary in response to the call. “Yes, Headmistress?” “There is a rather large stash of pornography in my office. Please bring it to me.” The house-elf nodded. “Would the Headmistress be wanting from the confiscation closet, or from the Headmistress’s personal collection?” Minerva’s eyes narrowed. “From the closet, thank you,” she said in a very clipped tone. At the sound of snorting, she turned towards Harry. “Not one word, Mr. Potter.” “Yes, Headmistress.” “That’s two words right there, Mr. Potter.” “Yes….” Harry finished by silently buttoning his grinning lips. The house elf returned quickly, levitating a large pile of wizard porn magazines. “Place them on the bed, please.” “Yes, Headmistress,” the house elf replied. “I trust you know what to do from here, Mr. Potter.” Harry responded with a mirthful smile and a nod of his head. “Come ladies,” Poppy stated. “Let’s give Mr. Potter a bit of privacy.” “Like that’s mattered to any of you so far this morning,” Harry said with a roguish grin. “Shush!” Poppy admonished, before disappearing outside of the curtains. Minerva, Poppy and Hannah withdrew a respectful distance, staying within the ward in case aid became necessary. After a five-minute wait, McGonagall displayed her growing impatience. “How are things coming, Mr. Potter?” “Why Minerva, that’s an interesting word choice, isn’t it?” “Hush, you scamp!” “Do you need more of a…variety…of wizarding pictures?” asked Poppy. “Pictures?” asked Harry from behind the curtain. “I’ll have you know that I only subscribe to *Playwizard* for the articles. In fact, I’m reading a very interesting one right now….” “Don’t try our patience, Mr. Potter,” scolded Minerva. “Oh…..Headmistress, I love it when you get all stern and authoritarian with me,” Harry quipped. “Keep it up, and I won’t need any of these pictures to get it up.” McGonagall started to stride towards Harry’s bed. “Why….” Poppy laughed as she grabbed her friend by the arm. “Relax, Minerva…he’s just getting your goat. Rather successfully, I might add.” The Headmistress shook her head in consternation as a hearty laugh came from Harry’s bed. After thirty more seconds of silence, Harry said, “And we have…lift-off.” “Lift-off, Mr. Potter?” “Oops, sorry…muggle reference,” Harry replied. “Okay, so I got hard watching a porn picture, despite my intentions towards Hermione.” The Hogwarts Nurse approached the curtain. “Are you experiencing any pain, or bleeding?” “Not that I can see or feel,” Harry replied. “So now what?” “Now what, indeed?” asked the Headmistress. “You know,” Hannah stated, quietly enough for only the other witches to hear, “to truly make it an apples-to-apples comparison, we’d need Harry to look at naked pictures of Hermione.” McGonagall snorted. “Yes, dear…we’ll let you be the one to make that suggestion to Miss Granger.” “Don’t be so sure that she’d refuse to consider it,” Hannah said with a grin “But maybe I have a quicker way to test out the idea.” The Healer Apprentice approached the drawn curtains that surrounded Harry’s bed. “Harry?” “Yes, Hannah?” “Would you describe for us the particular picture that did the trick?” “The particular…is there any medical relevance to that question?” “Yes, I think that there actually is.” “Okay, but don’t blame me if anyone’s tender ears are hurt,” Harry called back. “So, there’s these two witches, and they’ve gotten really friendly in the shower that they’re sharing, and….” “Stop right there, Harry,” Hannah instructed. “Do these two witches remind you of anyone in particular?” “Not really,” Harry replied. “I mean, there’s broad similarities, of course, but….” “Are you still aroused, Harry?” “Erm…yeah?” “Good,” Hannah replied. “Look at that picture of the two witches in the shower, and imagine that it’s Hermione and me in there instead.” “But they’ve got their tongues in each other’s…” “Doesn’t matter, Harry…think what it’d be like to walk into a bathroom and spy Hermione and me with our tongues in exactly the same places.” There was a pregnant pause, and then a scream. “Eeeeyyy-ahhhh!” Hannah immediately yanked away the curtains and began hurling healing spells towards Harry’s bloodied crotch. “I’m sorry, Harry…I’m so sorry, but we had to know….” “Evil, you are,” Harry hissed, once the cuts were healed and the pain started to ebb. “Pure evil.” “And be thankful that she was,” stated Madame Pomfrey, as she stepped forward to augment the healing magic in play. “You more than anyone, Mr. Potter, should know that effective healing treatments aren’t always pleasant.” “But….what kind of healing was that?” “A diagnostic type,” Poppy replied. “Healer Abbott just confirmed that we’re dealing with a curse that is keyed into your sexual feelings towards Miss Granger.” Harry closed his eyes, and shook his head in disbelief. “It was still very evil.” “Yes, Harry, it was,” Hannah admitted. “So,” Harry said haltingly. “How can you be sure that you aren’t a trigger as well, Hannah? After all, you were doing some very naughty things in that shower.” “I’m sure that I was,” Hannah replied with a pat of his shoulder. “But I wasn’t the one that was lit up by a curse spell whilst holding your willie, was I?” Harry sighed, and tweaked the bridge of his nose rather than tease the witch by asking if she wished that were the case.