Luna Lovegood and the Trouser Snake

IronChefOR

Rating: R
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 20/05/2008
Last Updated: 12/06/2008
Status: in_progress

What happens when Luna Lovegood hears about a most unusual magical creature? H/Hr, R/L, N/G. Short story, three chapters, my first R-rated story. Please be kind. :-)

Chapters

1. Chapter 1

2. Chapter 2

1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter. Just borrowing.

Hello everyone! I’m BACK!

First things first: I want to apologize for my extended absence. I won’t bore or depress you with the details, but let me just say, Real Life has been something of a bitch since about November. For those of you following Their Way, let me assure you the story is NOT dead. I hope to have new chapters in time for my birthday in June.

In the meantime, as sort of an exercise to help get the ink flowing (or at least, fingers typing), I am posting this short little story, which is completely unrelated to Their Way. This was inspired by a completely random discussion on one of the numerous Harry Potter Yahoo groups. A while back, some people were jokingly discussing the special abilities of a certain “magical creature.” And then I thought of Luna’s fondness for magical creatures.

In many of the R or NC-17 stories I’ve read, Luna is often portrayed as an uninhibited, kinky wild-child. While I can believe that, I can also envision her as a pure innocent, almost to the point of being naïve. With that in mind, I give you this.

For anyone over here on Portkey who already read this on Caer Azkaban, I just wanted to say that this version is different than the one I originally posted over there. This version has a different ending to ensure there are no questions about Portkey-compliance. Many of the “upgrades” that went into this Portkey version will be added to the Azkaban version shortly, so enjoy this now, and a new and improved Caer Azkaban version is coming shortly.

I hope you enjoy this. This is my first publishing foray into the “adult” HP world.

Special thanks to my beta, MapleMountain.

Luna Lovegood sat on a quiet shoreline on the edge of the lake near Hogwarts. She came out here sometimes when she wanted to escape all of the noise and activity of the castle... when she wanted to draw.

Recently, she’d discovered she had the ability to “see” things remotely. She wasn’t sure exactly when this ability developed, but if she had asked Madame Pomfrey, the school nurse would have suggested it was triggered by her having recently completed puberty: she was now sexually mature... and fully fertile.

But Luna hadn’t asked, so all she did know was that it might have been related to the fact her maternal grandmother was a Seer. At first that worried her, because although her mother was not a Seer, she did on occasion have visions. And it was one of those visions that gave her mother the inspiration for that last fateful experiment.

But Luna soon realized that it might not be such a bad thing because her interests lay in a different direction than her mother’s. There were so many wonderful creatures that she knew existed... despite what books (and certain people) said... but she had never seen them. This might prove to be the answer to everything.

Luna didn’t care what people thought or said about her, but she did want to prove that these animals were real. It wasn’t about proving other people wrong, but rather to simply be able add to the sum of the knowledge of the world.

But she quickly ran into a problem. Her visions were so weak, so limited that once they ended she could no longer recall what the object of her vision looked like. Her Ravenclaw cleverness was able to discern a pattern and craft a theory: she could remember active details (how something moved or acted, things that could be described by verbs and adverbs), but she could not remember passive details (color, shape, location... nouns and adjectives).

What was the point of seeing a Nargle if she couldn’t remember what it looked like? Of course, knowing that it floated—not flew—was significant, she supposed.

And then one day after much trial and error, quite by accident she discovered that if while still in the vision she tried to draw what she saw, the end result was nearly photographic in quality.

This surprised her more than anyone else, as the last time she drew for fun, it took ten minutes to convince her ever-believing father that, yes, that WAS a tree.

As it turned out, the only limiting factors in the quality of her drawings were the amount of time she spent inside the vision, and the drawing materials themselves. Drawing paper and art pencils worked so much better than standard quills and parchment.

No matter how long she spent inside the vision, she could still not recall what her subject looked like. But now, with a good graphite pencil and a half hour of solitude or more, she could at least depart the vision with what was tantamount to a black and white photograph. (She of course saw in color, but color drawings always ended up really weird.)

And so it was that today found Luna Lovegood sitting on the shore of the lake, leaning back against a tree, hoping to get for the first time proof that Crumple-Horned Snorkacks were real. So far, most of her drawings had been limited to known objects to verify that her ability was working.

Forty-five minutes into her planned hour-long vision, Luna found herself being torn out by the sounds of approaching voices. While in her trance-like state, her other senses became heightened to compensate for being so distracted.

“Hey! There’s someone over there on the other side of the lake! Up against the tree.”

“Let’s go see who it is and bug them.”

Luna opened her eyes and the voices faded away into the distance as her hearing returned to normal. She looked down at the drawing in her lap. She never remembered the details, so she was often surprised by what she drew. But this time she was doubly so. This was nothing like what she expected.

For some reason, she’d expected that the Snorkack was a cat-sized, pig-like creature with horns that curled around like a ram’s. But what she drew, although obviously incomplete, was much smaller... more kitten-sized than cat.

As it turned out, that was good because if it had been cat-sized, it wouldn’t have fit onto her imported, A4-sized Muggle drawing paper. Because they were drawn whilst in her visions, Luna’s drawings were always life-size.

Looking closely at the kitten-like creature, she noticed that instead of fur, it had fine feathers, even all the way down to the bottom of its four legs. Most noticeably, large prominent feathers, not unlike that of a Great Horned Owl, lined the ears. That they flattened out to the sides gave them the appearance of being, well, crumpled.

The owners of the earlier voices were now crashing through the forest undergrowth to intrude upon Luna’s solitude; she shook her head to clear the last remaining wisps of mental fog created by her visions. She took one last look at her proof that the Snorkack was real.

Luna was very happy.

But not for very long.

“Well, well, well. Look at who we have here. Loony Lovegood!” Draco Malfoy drawled in a voice that dripped with undeserved self-confidence. His ever-present gaggle of goons guffawed giddily.

Knowing it was best to simply ignore the Slytherin, Luna moved to put away her sketchbook. But unfortunately she was not fast enough, as Malfoy had torn it out of her hands with a quick Summoning charm.

“What do we have here?” he cooed happily. “Widdle Woony’s been dwawing!” he mocked.

His voice wasn’t so amused after a moment of silence.

“What the hell is this?” he asked in irritated confusion. It was hard to ridicule her if he didn’t know what he was looking at.

“It’s a Crumple-Horned Snorkack,” Luna said, finally speaking. “Even you should be able to recognize that.”

Any retort Malfoy might’ve had for what he thought was sarcasm was instantly drowned by laughter when he realized she was serious.

“Oh, for the love of Merlin, you’re serious!” Malfoy choked out as he struggled to regain his breath. “She- she’s serious!” he repeated to Crabbe and Goyle, which set those two laughing again.

“Oh, oh, wait, oh wait!” he told them, trying to catch his breath and quiet the other two. “I know. I know.” He started laughing again. “I’ll give you something to draw. You’ve been hanging around Scarhead and his Mudblood lately, right? You want something imaginary to draw, why don’t you draw Potter’s Trouser Snake?”

Crabbe and Goyle burst out laughing.

“If you’re going to draw things that don’t exist, start with that!”

As Malfoy succumbed to his laughter again, he threw Luna’s sketchbook into the lake as far as he could. (It didn’t go very far.) The three Slytherins then starting walking back towards the castle, laughing so hard they began wheezing.

Once they were gone, Luna summoned her sketchbook back to her. A couple of quick spells and it was dry and as good as new. Looking at her Snorkack drawing again, she let out a tiny sigh of disappointment. She would have start over; she couldn’t resume drawing in the middle of a vision.

Luna flipped to the next blank page and stared blankly at the drawing paper’s finely textured surface.

“That’s a brilliant idea!” she suddenly exclaimed aloud. Why didn’t I think of it sooner?

She’d never seen Harry’s Trouser Snake before. Of course, she’d never seen any Trouser Snake before, neither in person nor in any of the books in her house.

With a happy smile, Luna got herself comfortable again and leaned up against the tree. Pencil in hand, she allowed her mind to go blank and closed her eyes. As was habit by now, her grip tightened slightly as the whirlwind of images slowly began to clear and focus into one.

* * * One Week Later * * *

“Hello, Hermione,” Luna greeted. The brunette witch jumped in her seat as her quill went flying, ink splattering over her parchment. The studious Gryffindor was a bit unnerved at how the Ravenclaw could always do that.

Even when deeply immersed in her reading or studying, Hermione Granger was always ultra-sensitive to even the slightest of distractions; anyone who interrupted her peace was at risk of imminent harm, depending on who or why. Contrary to what some would suspect, it was impossible to sneak up on her while she was “in the zone.”

Nearly impossible.

Somehow, Luna always managed to do it. If Hermione didn’t know any better, she might have suspected the blonde of silently Apparating.

“Hello, Luna,” she replied in a friendly tone after regaining her composure. “How are you today?” she asked out of habit.

“Oh, fine. Just finishing up my menstrual cycle today,” Luna replied unimportantly. “Nothing special. And you?”

Hermione blinked a moment. No matter how well she’d gotten to know the Ravenclaw over the last couple of years, she never got used to her literal answers to figurative questions. And in all honesty, she never wanted to. That was part of what made Luna, Luna.

Hermione also knew that Luna’s “And you?” was not figurative either. And she knew Luna would not accept any answer that was not to the question she asked.

“Not for another two weeks,” she replied after first making sure there was no one else around to hear her answer. Luna nodded in acknowledgement. She then just stood there, staring at the spilled inkblots.

Sensing that Luna was done talking for the moment, Hermione drew her wand and quickly cleaned up the spilled ink. Just as she was about to pick up her quill again, Luna sat down in the seat next to her.

“Where’s Harry?”

“In the Prefect’s Bath,” Hermione replied. “He was completely soaked and covered in mud after today’s Quidditch practice. He said that after a quick shower in the changing rooms, he would head up for a hot soak to help relive some tension.”

“I’m sure he will,” Luna replied airily. Hermione looked up. Anyone else, any other tone of voice, and that statement would have been sarcastic, or suggestive. But this was Luna; Hermione smiled.

“Yep,” she confirmed, returning to her notes.

“Do you have a moment?” the blonde witch asked.

“For you, always,” Hermione replied as she set down her quill. Ever since that fateful night in the Department of Mysteries, the legendary Terrific Trio of Harry, Hermione, and Ron was fast becoming the Super Sextet, also including Luna, Neville, and Ginny.

Despite whatever fundamental differences there might have been between how she and Luna viewed the world, Hermione could not deny that the blonde witch was becoming a good friend.

And, Hermione had to admit, it didn’t hurt that she knew Luna fancied Ron. It had taken one very frank discussion (some might call it an intervention), but Hermione had finally convinced her red-headed male friend that he really didn’t fancy her the way he thought he did.

He fancied the idea of fancying her, she patiently explained. But once it came down to the nitty-gritty details of actually spending time together, finding activities they could both enjoy doing together, Ron quickly realized Hermione wasn’t the kind of person he was looking for.

That said, she knew that she was Ron’s first crush; she was always on the lookout for someone new to come along and catch his eye. She just wanted to be absolutely sure he had moved on.

And Luna was exactly the person Hermione was looking for. The hard part was to get Ron to notice her as anything other than Loony Lovegood.

“I made some new drawings this past week, and I wanted to get your opinion on them,” Luna explained.

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Her feelings for the quirky blonde may have warmed considerably in the past two years, so much so it even surprised her sometimes. But she was still Luna.

Ever since she discovered her supposed gift, Luna always brought her drawings to Hermione as proof that the unique things the unique witch claimed actually existed. Predictably, Hermione was still unconvinced. Luna’s drawings of her imaginary creatures were either completely unprovable, or were of everyday, ordinary items... things she could have simply just looked at and drawn.

They were amazingly detailed and quite lifelike though, Hermione had to admit.

Luna pulled her drawing book out of her bag and set it in front of Hermione. She opened to her most recent set of drawings.

Nearly done with her homework anyway, Hermione put away her books and took the sketchbook, looking at the first picture. Luna began to narrate.

“This is another Nargle. I’m sorry for the lack of detail. That’s all I could see of it this time. They’re not very active. They seem to just lie around for most of the year, except around Christmas.”

“Mm-hmm,” Hermione confirmed, her enthusiasm fading quickly. A sleeping Nargle wasn’t all that interesting to watch.

They’re not even real! she had to remind herself. One side effect of seeing Luna’s pictures again and again was that Hermione was beginning to recognize the creatures. Every drawing was completely different, exactly as if Luna had been observing different specimens of the same animal.

And yet for all the differences, the drawings themselves were consistent, as if she was looking at the same species. It was almost as if Luna actually was observing these animals... that were completely imaginary and didn’t actually exist.

But regardless of that, the one thing that Hermione could not, and would not, refute was that the drawings were amazing. The detail, the clarity... it really was just short of a black and white photograph. Luna always claimed that she was a horrible artist, but Hermione knew that was simply a case of modesty... something that she and Harry could relate to fully.

If only she used her powers for good... Hermione thought to herself jokingly, in regards to Luna’s insistence upon drawing imaginary creatures.

“And this,” Luna proclaimed dramatically, “is my first drawing of one of two new subjects. Do you recognize it?” she asked excitedly. She was about five seconds away from bouncing in her seat.

Hermione looked and stared dumbly at the drawing. A feathered hamster? was the witty comeback that she knew better than to say. Oh, she wasn’t worried about Luna being offended. Rather, she was worried about fueling her imagination.

The prominent tufts of feathers where the ears should be on the not-a-gerbil quickly drew the Gryffindor’s attention. Well familiar with the numerous breeds of school owls, the first thing to pop into Hermione’s mind was a Great Horned Owl. After another second or two of inspection, she realized the tufts were pointing out sideways, as if flattened.

It isn’t? Hermione asked herself. She didn’t....

“A Crumple-Horned Snorkack?” Hermione asked dryly. Luna’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Oh, I’m so happy you recognized it,” she said, bouncing in her seat. “I was ever so worried that you wouldn’t. I must confess that even I was surprised at what it actually looks like. I had something else entirely in mind. As you can see, it’s obviously unfinished, but you get the general idea. Draco Malfoy interrupted me while I was drawing, so I wasn’t able to finish it,” she said all in one breath.

“Erm,” Hermione said less-than-eloquently, a bit taken aback by the exuberant response. “Any- any problems with Malfoy?” she stuttered.

“Oh, Draco was just his normal self,” Luna said dismissively, as if it were trivial. “He got bored after a while and wandered off with his friends.” She turned her attention back to her drawing.

“So what do you think?” Luna asked excitedly.

“Um, well...” Hermione hesitated, trying to be diplomatic. “It’s hard to say anything for sure... I mean, with only one drawing... and one that’s incomplete I might add. Per- perhaps with a few more drawings... you know, for comparison purposes, I could provide a better opinion.”

Luna thought about this for a moment.

“Oh, you’re absolutely right, I agree. Like I said, this was simply the first one. I had planned to draw more, but Draco interrupted me.

“Speaking of which, this next set of drawings I think you’ll find extremely interesting. Believe it or not, it was actually Draco’s idea. I’ll have to remember to thank him sometime for suggesting it. I spent all week working on these. I have four different drawings, so you’ll see quite a wide range with these.”

Luna picked up her sketchbook again and gave one last longing gaze at the Snorkack. She then flipped the page and set it down on the table in front of Hermione. With her usual skeptical face, the Gryffindor witch looked down.

Luna Lovegood watched with fascination as Hermione looked at the drawing. There was a brief moment of incomprehension, then a slow blink as though she couldn’t believe her eyes. Luna smiled. She felt that way too when she first saw it.

Hermione’s eyes then widened and her jaw dropped opened in stunned shock. To Luna’s surprise, Hermione’s hand suddenly slammed down upon the drawing, covering it up as her face began to turn red.

“Luna Lovegood! What in the hell are you playing at?!” Hermione whispered as she looked around franticly to see if her slam had drawn Madam Pince’s attention. Deciding she was safe, she grabbed hold of the sketchbook and quickly flipped it over.

“What do you mean, ‘what am I playing at?’” Luna asked in confusion. “I told you. I see things and then I draw them.”

Hermione sputtered a little. “I didn’t mean what you were doing,” she hissed, “I meant what you were drawing. Specifically, this drawing!”

Luna was amazed at how loud a person could talk and yet still be whispering.

“What? I thought you knew what it was. You certainly looked like you recognized it.”

Hermione’s mouth opened and closed several times as though she was trying to speak.

“But if not, I apologize,” Luna continued, sounding truly regretful. “It’s a Trouser Snake!” she then proclaimed proudly.

“Tr- tr- trouser snake???” Hermione asked. The multiple question marks were perfectly audible.

“Yes, of course. A Trouser Snake. Harry’s Trouser Snake. What did you think it was?” Luna asked.

Hermione’s eyes widened in shock even further. Without even thinking, she quickly picked up the sketchbook to look at it again, as if to verify Luna’s answer. After another few seconds of vacant stare, Hermione dropped it again, and again put her hand down to cover the drawing.

After a few moments of hyperventilating, Hermione finally regained her composure. Some of it, at least. After looking down at her hand and arm which were shielding the drawing, she slowly looked back up at Luna again.

“What... whe.. why did you draw this again?” the brunette asked weakly.

“I told you. I was sitting beside the lake last week, in the middle of drawing the Snorkack. Draco Malfoy and his friends came along and interrupted me. After seeing the drawing, he made fun of it, and then suggested that if I wanted to draw something imaginary, I should draw Harry’s Trouser Snake,” Luna explained simply, as if this sort of thing happened every day.

“Which is totally absurd,” she said with a laugh. “As you can see, it’s perfectly real.”

“I’ll say...” Hermione muttered absently as she lifted her hand away to look at the drawing again. Realizing what she’d just said, she looked extremely embarrassed and clamped that same hand over her mouth. She then looked even more surprised and pulled it away and looked at her hand as if she had touched something she shouldn’t have.

Luna took the opportunity to pull the sketchbook away from Hermione. She flipped the page and started showing her the other drawings. All Hermione could do, in those brief instants when she could tear her eyes away from the drawings, was to look around to see if their little corner of the library was still undisturbed.

“I must confess, drawing Harry’s Trouser Snake has been most fascinating. I’ve rarely seen such a wide variation in the appearance of a single animal. I mean, different Nargles look differently. But Harry’s Trouser Snake seems to change shape and size so many times, it’s quite amazing!” Luna explained excitedly.

“I’ll say....”

Seeing that Hermione now appeared as interested as she was, Luna started showing off the rest of the drawings.

“This one here, this was the first one I drew,” the blonde explained. “It seems to look rather ordinary. I didn’t know where Harry or his snake were, or what they were doing at the time, so it’s hard to describe it as anything other than ordinary, so I just consider it like a control sample.”

Hermione nodded vacantly. She might have been a little transfixed by the drawing, but somewhere in her mind the idea of a control sample resonated.

“This one,” Luna said, flipping the page again, “this one I drew last Friday during my free period. I think you have Charms during that time, right?” Hermione nodded meekly, eyes still fixated upon the drawing.

“It certainly seems a bit bigger in this drawing. Since he was in class then, I assume that maybe he let it out for a little air. Maybe released it in the dorm so it slither around while he was in class? I know how some people feel about snakes, so I can imagine his roommates wouldn’t be too happy if he had his snake out while they were there.”

Hermione suppressed a snort of laughter.

Last Friday Charms? she suddenly remembered. I spent half the class with my hand stuck to the back of Harry’s hand thanks to RONALD not doing his Sticking Charm reading properly. The charm was itchy... my hand kept wriggling around trying to scratch. I joked to myself that it felt like I was stroking the top of his hand seductively...

Hermione’s blush returned. Unfazed, Luna continued on with her show and tell, turning to the third drawing.

“This one I don’t like very much. I don’t think it’s very good.” Luna nodded in unspoken agreement when she saw the look of disappointment on Hermione’s face. “It was just so small this time. It looks like it’s all shriveled up and scrunched up in a hiding place somewhere.

“I drew this last Monday evening, during Harry’s Quidditch practice. That was the day I came up to your room to return your Runes book. I remember seeing him come into the Gryffindor common room just as I was leaving. Poor Harry. It was so cold and rainy that day. He was so wet and looked chilled to the bone.”

Luna paused for a moment as Hermione coughed several times.

“But this one,” Luna said importantly, getting ready to turn the page to the fourth drawing, “this one I think is my most favorite of them all.” She turned the page.

Hermione’s eyes widened so far, Luna was worried they might actually fall out of her head. The Gryffindor witch’s mouth fell open quite slowly and her lower lip began to tremble.

“First of all, there’s something about it that when I look at it, it just feels right, you know?” Hermione could not speak, but she did manage a weak nod.

“But more than that, what I like most is that it’s the best of all the drawings. I was able to spend the most time on it and you can see the most detail here.”

Hermione squeaked.

“I’ve seen lots of different kinds of snakes before, but none quite like this one. It’s nice in this drawing that you can see more details because it’s bigger the way it’s stretched out. Of course, here you can clearly see the head. I wasn’t sure what to call those two things. In the end, I decided to call them pods.”

“Pods?” Hermione asked faintly. “Like... seeds? Or....... nuts?” she asked, almost afraid.

“Oh no, silly,” Luna laughed. “Pods, like feet. After all, they’re on the opposite side as the head.

“You know, I was wondering what it eats. Because it has such a small mouth for a snake. And it must be blind too, because I’ve never seen any eyes. But that’s okay, because I know Harry takes very good care of his snake.”

“Wha- What?” Hermione asked suddenly, snapping out of her trance. “H- how do you know that?”

“Oh, well, if you look carefully and try to imagine, do you see how the snake’s mouth could be misinterpreted as an eye?” Again, all Hermione could do was nod. She appeared almost afraid to look at the drawing again.

“It’s related to how I know it’s his mouth and why I know Harry takes such good care of him. I drew this one two days ago after dinner.

“I went up in my room and got comfortable on my bed and tried to get ready to draw. When I first saw his snake, it didn’t look very well... kinda shriveled and squished up like that other drawing.

“But then Harry started petting his snake. You are aware that you’re biting your lip?” Luna suddenly asked.

“Huh? What? Oh, yeah. I was... it... yeah, I knew. Thanks for noticing,” Hermione replied, the slightest tint of sarcasm discernable.

“You’re welcome,” Luna replied happily. Whether Luna understood the concept of sarcasm, Hermione still didn’t know.

“As I was saying, Harry was being oh so considerate, petting his snake. And it must have been very unhappy before, all scrunched up like that. Because it quickly decided to stretch all the way out. It was just like how Crookshanks stretches out when you scratch his back.”

Luna noticed that Hermione was now staring at the “stretched out” drawing again... staring very intently.

After a few moments, Hermione closed her eyes briefly and then looked back up at Luna. With what appeared to be a dry mouth, she spoke again.

“Uh... where was this?”

“Oh, well, mostly around the snake’s head, but all along its body too,” Luna explained. Hermione closed her eyes again and let out a groan; Luna was certain she didn’t need that pointed out. However...

“But he was being very nice, and his other hand was petting around the pods too.”

Hermione groaned again. “No, no,” she corrected after a few difficult moments. “I meant, where was he when this was happening?”

“Oh, well, I can’t say for certain,” Luna replied. “I assume he was in the Prefect’s Bath. It was Wednesday night, and he did say he was going to head up after dinner, didn’t he? Snakes are cold-blooded, so I thought maybe it would enjoy hanging out in the heat while Harry bathed.

“As I told you before, when I ‘see,’ I can only see the object of my vision, and not its surroundings. The only reason I could see Harry’s hands was because he was petting the Trouser Snake. His hands disappeared from my sight whenever he let go of it.

“Are you feeling well, Hermione?” Luna asked, concerned. “You seem to have forgotten in the past few minutes many of the things I’ve already told you about how my visions worked, like about not seeing the surroundings.

“Maybe you should go see Madam Pomfrey,” she encouraged. “You might have an inner ear infection. I wasn’t sure if you noticed, but for the last minute, you’ve been rocking back and forth slowly in your seat.”

Hermione’s attention seemed to refocus a little, but it was accompanied by another blush.

“No, I’m fine. It’s nothing she can help me with.” Hermione’s eyes were quickly drawn back to the drawing.

Luna forged ahead. “Now, at first I thought maybe it was his eye... the snake’s. Because when Harry started petting him, the snake started crying. I could see a few tears. If the snake was unhappy when it was all squished up, then I assume they were tears of joy... because Harry would never do anything mean.”

“Erm, I do have a question,” Hermione interrupted, turning a darker shade of red. “The, um, the drawing... it’s, er, very nice and... detailed. But is it... I mean... is the drawing... does it... is it...?” Hermione seemed lost for words so she simply held her hands up, just short of eight inches apart.

“Is it drawn to scale?” Luna offered. “Oh yes, of course it is. All of my drawings are life size. I can’t draw them any other way.”

“Oh, Merlin,” Hermione whimpered as rested her head in one of her hands. After a few moments, she sat up and grabbed the top of her shirt, fanning herself as if she was getting warm. Luna was about to ask again, but Hermione beat her to it.

“Yes, I promise you I’m all right. I know you told me about how you draw. I’ve just been a little distracted by the drawings.”

“That’s good to know. I’d hate it if you got sick. Which reminds me, we need to keep an eye on Harry and make sure he doesn’t get sick either. Remember how I said his snake didn’t look very good before he started petting it?

“Well, his snake must be sick. And this is how I know it wasn’t his eye, because after about ten minutes, his snake started vomiting all over the place. The poor thing, it must have vomited eight or nine times in just ten or fifteen seconds.

“But Harry was so sweet and kind, like he always is. He just kept petting it and petting it the entire time, trying to make it feel better.”

Luna noticed that by now, Hermione’s eyes were so dilated they were almost black. She was breathing heavily and her earlier dry mouth must have returned because she was now licking her lips.

“You know... now that I think about it, I don’t think he was in the bath. While Harry held his snake as it left big splashes of sick all over his hand, I could hear him calling your name over and over again. Maybe he was in the common room and calling for you to help him?”

Hermione’s attention suddenly became as focused as a laser.

“Harry... he- he was calling out MY name?”

“Yes,” Luna replied, appearing a little confused by Hermione’s surprise.

“He was calling out my name?” Hermione asked again, a large smile beginning to grow on her face.

“Yes,” the blonde confirmed. “As I said, his snake was sick and he was probably calling for you to help him with it. That, or he named his snake after you, but that would be awkward, don’t you think?” Luna asked, crinkling her nose to reflect that.

Hermione looked at the drawing one last time, now with renewed enthusiasm. She turned back to Luna, smiling guardedly.

“Luna, could you do me a favor, please?”

“Well, that depends on what it is,” the Ravenclaw replied cautiously but friendly. She wasn’t going to get tricked into that again.

“Until I can talk to Harry and then get back to you, could you please not tell anyone about show those drawings to anyone else?”

“Oh, of course,” Luna agreed, closing her drawing book. Hermione looked at her watch. It was Friday, just after six o’clock.

“Quidditch practice just ended,” she said, mostly to herself.

“It’s been cold and rainy all day. He’ll probably go for another hot bath tonight,” Luna confirmed Hermione’s line of reasoning. “You should probably hurry. If you don’t get there in time, he’ll probably already be in the bath.”

Hermione smiled an evil grin, something Luna didn’t see all that often. “My thoughts exactly.” She packed up her books and then started stand up.

“See you later, Hermione,” Luna said. “Let me know what happens.”

Hermione chuckled, but did not reply. “Good night, Luna.” She then started to head for the library door, walking very slowly.

Once Hermione had left the library, Luna smiled and let out a satisfied sigh.

“Considering it was Hermione Granger, that was way too easy,” she whispered to herself.

. . . to be continued . . .

2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter. Just borrowing.

Special thanks to my beta, MapleMountain.

OK, I was wrong originally. I said this would be a two-chapter story. It’s now a three-chapter story. When I posted Chapter 1, I thought Chapter 2 was pretty much done. And then I thought of something else. Which led to something else. Which led to something else. I figured since it’s possible this might be the only adult story I ever write, I decided I wanted to include everything, even if it meant taking longer to write it all out. But I promise you, the new Chapter 3 is WAY better than what I had originally planned when I posted Chapter 1.

And so while the end of the story keeps getting longer and longer... like perhaps a certain kind of snake... I also realized that the first half of the chapter was very different from the second, so I decided to split it into two parts, the first of which was mostly done anyway. The first part is this chapter, and is mainly to just hold you over while I finish the “good parts.”

I also realized that a lot of what is now this chapter is based on ideas that I originally had for Their Way. So while you all wait for the steamy goodness of Chapter 3, think of this chapter as R-rated back-story for Their Way. I NEVER intended to write these scenes originally; they were merely vague ideas (2-3 sentences) that helped me define my versions of Neville and Ron. But here, they actually fit in as we learn what makes those two tick... in an R-rated sense. And so those 2-3 sentence ideas got fleshed out to their fullest, so to speak... several pages worth in fact.

Since almost everything in here is based on unwritten ideas/themes from Their Way, it should all fit into that story as background as well (aside from a few tiny details, like Ron being prefect.) The only exception to that though is Luna. The Luna of Their Way is NOT the same Luna of Trouser Snake, for important reasons. But everything else should jive though. For example, if in the future we ever hear about some embarrassing broom cupboard incident involving Neville and Ginny in Their Way, well, now you’ll know what happened since I could never say it in a PG-13 story.

And finally, let me assure everyone that this chapter is not a lead in to any sort of male slash, nor am I obsessed with the male anatomy. Rather, my intent is to take a source of great teenage male anxiety (heck, even adult male anxiety, if the amount of spam in my email is any indication) and use it to inject a little humor, as well as provide some character development.

Oh, and yeah, I borrowed a line from A Few Good Men. Just admitting it up front... not trying to pretend it’s my own. :-)

Chapter 2.

Once Hermione had left the library, Luna smiled and let out a satisfied sigh.

“Considering it was Hermione Granger, that was way too easy,” she whispered to herself.

Luna Lovegood was rather proud of herself. True, it had been Draco’s idea to use her ability to draw Harry’s manhood—very generously proportioned, she’d discovered. She knew though that if she had spied on him for her own personal enjoyment, he would be very upset, no, worse... disappointed.

But this wasn’t spying for the sake of her own gratification. No, this was for a far more noble purpose.

She knew Harry and Hermione were both secretly in love with each other. She also knew both were very guarded about their respective feelings. Worse, they were as stubborn as Hippogriffs when it came to admitting their feelings for fear of rejection and ruining their friendship.

Luna knew that direct interference in their (non-existent) love lives would be counterproductive, and in fact probably destroy what pathetic little progress the two had made on their own.

So she had to be subtle. She had to let Hermione “discover for herself” that Harry desired her. The drawings that normally contained proof that her so-called imaginary creatures existed now contained proof that his so-called imaginary feelings did as well. Well, Hermione always said she was just imagining things when she saw him casting shy glances in her direction.

Yes, Luna’s job here was done. Now, as for spying on Harry during a very private moment....

Although it had been for a very noble cause, Luna still felt she owed a penance. Perhaps she would do ten good deeds. That sounded reasonable.

But was it enough? She would have to check. But when?

Luna calculated that if Hermione walked slowly enough toward the Prefect’s Bath to allow Harry to get there first from after his Quidditch practice, then it would take the Gryffindor witch four minutes to get there.

After that, Luna estimated Hermione would allow one minute for Harry to undress and for the bath to fill, after which she would wait an additional five minutes to permit Harry enough time to get in the bath and begin a half-hearted attempt to bathe... before finally he gave up and decided to really enjoy the bath.

Luna factored in one more minute for Hermione to stand at the door and debate whether or not to barge in on him before she actually did, and then one final minute of some sort of awkward confrontation before the real magic began.

And so, twelve minutes after Hermione left the library, Luna invaded Harry’s privacy one last time, just to make sure things were going well. A few seconds later, Luna left the vision with a triumphant smile. As usual, she couldn’t remember the appearance of what she’d seen. But she did remember verbs and adverbs.

And the very enthusiastic game of ‘Hide the Snake’ she’d witnessed Harry and Hermione playing was full of verbs and adverbs.

“Okay, maybe just five good deeds,” Luna mused quietly. She returned to her sketchbook and tore out the four drawings of Harry. Focusing all of her attention, she called up a clear mental image of each of them, casting successive Remember-Me-Not charms, one at a time.

In a world of forgetfulness potions and Obliviations, on occasion there was need for something a little less heavy-handed, a little more delicate. Sometimes, things were seen that no human should ever have to see, whether it be a horrendous magical mishap, or, even worse, walking in on one’s parents mid-shag.

Some people never get over the trauma of accidentally seeing their mum and dad riding each other like the most seasoned of porn stars.

But self-Obliviation was inherently dangerous and a forgetfulness potion was like curing a wart by amputating an arm. And besides, complete memory removal was often not the ideal solution. Sometimes, remembering the circumstances of the original incident was beneficial as it could help prevent a repeat offense.

And so fortunately, at some point someone developed the Remember-Me-Not charm. It wasn’t a replacement for Obliviation; it didn’t remove memories. Rather it simply erased disturbing mental images burned into a person’s mind. A person still remembered that they saw something, but at least they could no longer “see” it in their minds.

And sometimes, that was more than enough to save their sanity.

Satisfied Harry’s privacy would be restored as the images faded from her mind in the next sixty seconds, Luna quickly charmed the drawings blank and then turned them into paper airplanes that only Hermione would be able to open and reveal. She then sent them on their way up to the Gryffindor witch’s room.

She trusted Hermione would make good use of them. Luna smiled. Good Deed #1 completed.

And with that done, Luna immediately set out to work on Good Deed #2. She packed up her books and skipped out of library. Out in the corridor, she summoned one of the castle’s House Elves, hoping it could help her.

* * *

Ten minutes later, a very sweaty and weary Ronald Weasley decided to call it quits for the night. He’d locked himself into the Room of Requirement earlier that evening, determined to not let himself out until after one solid hour of additional hexing practice. Neville was still beating him in their DA dueling sessions.

Ron wasn’t sure which annoyed him more: the fact he was losing to Neville, or that Neville was dating Ginny, which had caused a tremendous boost in the previously shy and timid Gryffindor’s confidence.

Actually, the worst part was how he’d learned the two were dating: while on Prefect rounds, he had caught them in a broom cupboard. Instead of finding some troublemaking Slytherins out of bounds (as he’d hoped), he found his pure, innocent, sister Ginny on her knees, having just finished giving Neville a blowjob.

Ron shuddered as he tried to clear the mental image of Neville’s slick-and-slobbed knob hanging out of his trousers while Ginny was busy wiping something off her chin that he wished was saliva. He shook his head as he headed over to a table. Grabbing a towel, he jumped when he heard someone clapping politely behind him.

“Luna!” Ron gasped in shock. “You about gave me a heart attack.” He wiped the sweat off his face and from around his neck.

“I would never do that,” Luna replied simply. “At least, not by scaring you,” she added under her breath as she considered other ways of making him sweat.

Ron looked at the blonde witch suspiciously. “How did you get in here?”

Luna just smiled her usual vacant smile. “You’re doing very well, Ronald,” she encouraged the redhead. “A few more extra practice sessions, and you’ll be among the best in the DA.”

“Yeah, I’ll believe that when I see it,” Ron quipped, still a little defensive after having been knocked on his arse in the last DA meeting by the guy who was thoroughly shagging his sister... according to her!

No, correct that earlier statement, Ron complained. The WORST part was when she told me about it, in great detail!

On the one occasion that Ron had truly enraged his sister earlier this year (in regards to her dating Neville, of course), she waited until the two of them were alone in the Common Room late one night and then cornered him. After freezing him to one of the squashy armchairs, Ginny then proceeded to sit on her brother’s lap and tell him all about how amazing Neville was in bed, about how she loved to be on top, riding him... about how he loved it when she dominated him.

And then, when Ron looked like he was ready to start crying, Ginny told him about how every once in a while, Neville would just get really horny and he became the dominant and would relentlessly drive her into the mattress again and again, or—and she lied about this—into the very chair Ron was sitting on. Now, Ginny might have had her kinks (which Neville was more than happy to indulge) but exhibition was not one of them (yet). After that first accident in the broom closet, all further encounters were kept much more discreet.

Ron never complained about Neville, ever again. Verbally, at least.

* * * Flashback to sometime last year, Sixth Year * * *

It was a cold and dreary Sunday. Hogwarts’ sixth years had just finished mid-term examinations for all of their classes that Friday, so for once there was no homework assigned over the weekend. All four houses of sixth years, already weary of their heavy N.E.W.T. schedules, were greatly anticipating a perfect weekend.

And then, first thing Saturday morning, it started raining... pouring. And it didn’t stop all weekend. By Sunday afternoon, they were all bored out of their minds. They’d all exhausted their sweets and WWW prank supplies; played every game they could think of... even Ron was sick of chess. About all there was to do was go and read a book for entertainment, like Hermione, or sit on their beds and stare at the ceiling.

And so it was that Harry, Ron, and Dean were lying on their beds, staring at the ceiling. Currently, they were verbally comparing notes as they ranked various females, classmates and adults, on a hotness scale of negative ten to positive ten, zero being no positive or negative reaction. Both Harry and Ron, for differing reasons though, insisted upon keeping Ginny and Hermione off the list. And Dean knew better than to object.

After a dozen or so witches, Harry threw a name out just to be evil.

“Dolores Umbridge.”

“MINUS TEN!” came a simultaneous chorus from the three of them.

They then moved on to Professor Vector who averaged a three (pretty good for a professor), to Daphne Greengrass, eight (all three were surprised they’d admitted it for a Slytherin, but none was surprised by the score itself), to Cho Chang, who only garnered a three thanks to Harry’s -1 offsetting Ron and Dean’s five and six. No credit was given for partial points; score averages were always rounded down.

They were now debating the merits of the Spellotape advertisement witch (and how much Spellotape it would take to provide support for her merits) when Seamus returned to their dormitory.

“Hello all! The man, the myth, the legend has returned!”

They were all teenage boys who lived and grew up together while going through puberty, so at several points over the years the question of “male adequacy” had popped up on more than one occasion. Unfortunately there weren’t many resources to help them... none of them really wanted to ask their parents, or Madam Pomfrey, or any of their teachers for that matter.

All of the books that might have helped answer their questions were tightly locked away in the Restricted Section. And none of them dared consider the “entertainment” magazines that could be found hidden in trunks or under mattresses. The males depicted there were so disproportionate to reality that they would give even the most confident of men cause for concern.

But then came the Internet, along with one or two very interesting statistical studies that Muggle-born Dean Thomas had found a few months ago during the summer before sixth year.

And so with that Kneazle out of the bag, in typical teenage male fashion, Dean and Seamus had been making smug, off-handed comments to each other for over a month now about the details of the study, more specifically about the implications for themselves. It was like they were trying to see how they measured up to each other without actually asking outright.

“For the love of Merlin!” Ron shouted out in exasperation upon hearing Seamus’s worn-out introduction. “The two of you should just whip your dicks out right now, compare them, and be done with the damned thing!”

Considering how much verbal posturing lately both of them had been doing publicly (within the confines of their dorm room), both Dean and Seamus knew it was kind of hard to tell Ron, or Harry or Neville for that matter, to stay out of it at this point. They stared at each other in a silent game of chicken, trying to see if either would back down.

“Fine! I’m in!” Seamus said first, since in all honesty he’d been the one to drop the first innuendo over a month ago.

“I’m game,” Dean agreed, since there really was no way to back down now.

“Er...” he stuttered as he glanced at Harry and Ron. What, were they supposed to do it here, now, in front of them? They really, obviously, hadn’t thought this all the way out. The only other option was to take it somewhere private, but that would have been even weirder.

Ron really hadn’t been paying attention to them anymore; he had been wondering if double-strength tape would be needed for the Spellotape ad witch. So when he realized they were silent and staring in his direction, he misinterpreted the reason.

Honestly, he just wanted them to shut up about it!

“Fine, I’ll do it too... Merlin, if you two will just SHUT UP about it afterwards and just LET IT DIE!!”

“Erm, okay?” Seamus agreed hesitantly. That certainly hadn’t been their intent, but at this point, Ron was so irritated that it was probably better to leave that unsaid.

“But if I’m going to do it, Harry has to too!”

“What???” The multiple question marks were perfectly audible.

“Come on, Harry. It’ll just take a minute, and then we don’t have to listen to another smartass comment about broom handles or bludger bats or anything else, ever again.”

Now, Harry had no desire to “share himself” like this. But then again, he had nothing to be embarrassed about either. If he could eat his bangers and mash in peace again, it was well worth it. So he quickly got up and went to join the other three guys standing in the center of their dormitory room. Dean and Seamus were still a bit stunned that things had gone this way, but again, at this point, best not to rock the boat.

The four of them stood in a circle, looking at each other.

“Erm, so... how do we do this?” Harry finally asked. The other three looked uncertain. Again, no one really thought this far ahead. “Do we, um...” he blushed furiously, “have to... get it out... and up?”

Ron’s ears turned pink.

“When I said compare, I didn’t really think about it,” he clarified. “I mean, ‘compare’ just sounded so simple. But it would be pretty weird if we all had to wank in front of each other.”

“Well, we wouldn’t be doing THAT,” Seamus interjected quickly. “We’re just... it’s just for practical purposes... to measure. There’s no... intent in that, right?”

“And besides, this is nowhere near weird,” Dean added, trying to sound reassuring. “If you want weird, just be glad we’re keeping our hands to ourselves, or that we’re not playing Soggy Biscuit!”

A collective “Oh, yeah,” went around the room. There were rumors that by tradition, a game of Soggy Biscuit was used in each of the boy’s dormitory rooms as initiation into Ravenclaw male adolescence. And those familiar with British lore knew that it was equally infamous in Muggle male boarding schools as well.

“So...” Harry said, still uncertain of what they were going to do, thankful at least that they weren’t going to be doing that.

“Well, we could just tell each other...” Ron began hopefully.

“NO!” Dean and Seamus objected simultaneously.

“Every guy lies!” Dean said. “If we’re going to let this die, like you demanded, it has to be for real. There can’t be any doubts.”

“So we’re back to dropping trou’ and letting it all hang—”

“I’ve got it!” Seamus cut in, sounding relieved, as he ran over to his trunk and started digging thought it. “I forgot all about it... then again I wasn’t really paying much attention to the articles,” he said as he pulled out an old, beat up Playwizard that was hidden in the very bottom of his trunk.

“But when you mentioned guys lying, I remembered.” He started thumbing through the magazine, stopping every few seconds to reacquaint himself with one of the pictorials.

“Ah! Here it is!” Seamus exclaimed. “The ‘Size Me’ spell. ‘The official standard used by the magical adult entertainment industry worldwide,’” he quoted from the article. “‘Guaranteed no cheating by questionable ruler placement. Guaranteed no lying with certifiable results that can be summoned upon demand. Don’t trust your reputation to anyone else’s measure.’”

“Seems fair,” Dean decided, still uncertain.

“How does it work?” Ron asked, still uncertain.

“Just, um, get yourself out, hold your wand to... yourself, and then cast the spell,” Seamus said, scanning the article. “It’ll, erm, get you ready to measure, then you’ll see numbers appear, we’ll all see them.”

“Sounds easy enough,” Harry said, still uncertain.

“Yeah, and since the spell does all the work and produces numbers we all can see, if anyone is weirded out, they can just turn around and do it with their back turned.” Seamus paused for a few seconds. “So, who’s first?”

“You are!” came three simultaneous replies.

“Fine!” he said in a huff, muttering something under his breath that the others could not hear. He studied the article closely for a few seconds.

“Okay, the spell’s a little unusual, so pay attention.” Seamus went to reach for his zipper and stopped suddenly. For the first time, he looked a bit embarrassed as he realized how bad the timing of that sounded. Since the numbers of the spell would be visible, he decided that was all that would be seen, especially considering he wasn’t entirely sure what would happen anyway.

Harry and the others watched as Seamus turned around. They heard a ZIP! and could see his trousers slacken a little as he pulled them and his boxers down, just enough to extract himself. They then watched as he brought his wand down towards himself, but they (thankfully) were unable to see exactly what was happening.

Most spells were based on Latin (inspired by, probably more accurately), derived from what the spell did. Some spells though were based on other languages, even English, such as the ‘Point Me’ spell. But in actuality, the incantation for a spell could be anything its creator wanted.

And so, it probably would come as no surprise then that a spell designed for wizards, by wizards, for measuring their most important part was no eloquent Latin encapsulation. It was, in fact, a limerick.

“Measure me long, don’t fudge an inch. Measure me round; careful, don’t pinch.”

After hearing the limerick, the other three guys laughed, but then they heard Seamus chuckle a little too late. Harry wondered if the spell tickled, but this whole thing was still just a bit too weird to not voice that thought.

A few moments later, what looked like a piece of parchment measuring tape, similar to what Madam Malkin might use, floated up into the air above Seamus’s head. The tape tore into multiple pieces and then twisted themselves into numbers.

Another ZIP could be heard and Seamus turned around, quite pleased with himself (mostly).

“Ha!” he said triumphantly, but carefully, in Dean’s direction.

“Remind me again what this was all about,” Ron said to the two dueling dorm mates.

“I told him...” Seamus started.

“Don’t try to backpedal now!” Dean interrupted. “Oh, you never said it outright, but you hinted and implied. Two-and-a-half feet, my arse! I knew you were lying!”

“I wasn’t lying. My earlier measurement was just... off... slightly.”

“Convenient error.”

“Okay, I’m pretty sure I get what one of the numbers is, but what’s the other one?” Ron asked.

“The first one’s length, obviously,” Seamus explained. “The second one is circumference.”

“It says whether you really are a pencil-dick or not,” Dean added. He and Seamus snickered.

Ron asked the million Galleon question. “So what is supposed to be normal?”

“For an adult male, average is considered between five and six inches long, and around five inches in circumference,” Dean said.

“So, see? Five-point-eight inches, upper half of five... almost six! Time to put your money where your pants are. Your turn!” Seamus challenged Dean.

“Fine!” Dean replied defiantly.

Turning around and using the Size Me spell seemed to be a much easier (i.e. less weird) way to do this, so Dean repeated his Irish mate’s actions. About twenty seconds later, his numbers floated up for all to see.

“Oh yeah! Average but thick!” Dean crowed.

“You’re still shor...” Seamus started.

“Who cares?!” Dean laughed. “Thicker is better! Everyone knows all the magic spots are within the first couple of inches anyway!”

“Okay, now. Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Ron said rapidly, annoyed. “Where are you getting this, all of this, from anyway?”

Dean just smirked. “One word, my friend: Internet. After his hand, it’s the second best friend a bloke can have.” Everyone there had to bite their lips to suppress their smirks. It was hard to argue against the truth about a teenager’s first best friend. And living in such close quarters, they all knew they would be lying if anyone said otherwise.

“For the measurements, there are plenty of scientific studies out there... even some by condom makers... which you figure that’s got to be important for them,” Dean explained.

“And the female insights?” Seamus asked skeptically. They were roommates; they all knew none of them had firsthand information of that caliber.

“Well,” Dean said hesitantly, a blush visible even on his dark skin, “besides the scientific, the Internet has lots of other wondrous sites as well. Very wondrous sites... almost anything you could possibly want. I did say it was a bloke’s second best friend, after all. Sometimes,” he paused, chuckling, “you learn something educational by accident as well.”

Harry remembered that Dudley had, this past summer, finally gotten Internet access on the computer locked away in his room. He would bet his life there was nothing educational about that.

“Ron, you’re up!” Harry reminded him. Everyone snickered at the lame pun.

“Weasley pride!” Ron practically sang. “Weasley pride!”

“Damn, Ron,” Seamus exclaimed. “If you get it from your dad, no wonder your mum has seven kids!”

“Hey now!” Six of Seven warned. “You can talk all you want about how lucky I am, but let’s stay away from the whole ‘parents having sex’ thing!”

There was a brief moment of silence as everyone undoubtedly tried to quash the thoughts of their own parents having sex that Ron’s comment naturally invoked.

“Harry’s turn!” Dean said. “Time to find out what the Chosen One’s packing.”

Like the others before him, the Chosen One turned around and lowered the front of trousers and pants enough to safely extract himself, without mooning his friends. Thinking of the DA and all the destructive things a wand could do, it was with some hesitation that Harry touched his shop-provided wand to his nature-provided wand.

“Measure me long; don’t fudge an inch. Measure me round; careful, don’t pinch.”

By now, everyone was used to the limerick, so it really wasn’t all that funny anymore. And yet, each person performing the spell had still laughed at it. And now Harry knew why.

Upon casting the spell, Harry quickly swelled up to full attention within two seconds. He was as hard as he’d ever been, and yet there was absolutely nothing pleasurable about it. It was purely a matter of spell-induced hydraulics. It was just so funny to see it like that, his nearly instant up. And so he too chuckled.

Now that he was good and ready to be measured, really ready, the paper measuring tape he’d seen for all of his friends now slithered out of one wand and started to wrap snugly but gently around the other... a paper snake for his Trouser Snake.

Once it had done its job measuring length and circumference, it unwrapped itself and began to float upwards. Harry removed his wand, and just as quickly as he rose he quite literally deflated back to his normal, unexcited size. Buttoning himself up, he turned around to watch the tape... and to see if he’d made any previous “measurement errors” himself.

Wow! Harry thought to himself. I must have been a little too eager that last time and let the ruler slip down... either that or I GAINED a quarter-inch since September first.

“Bloody...” Seamus started.

“Hell!” Dean finished.

“I’ll say!” Ron agreed, as his line had been stolen.

“The Boy Who Lived is the Boy Who’s Bloody Hung!” Seamus exclaimed.

“Damn, Harry! You just can’t be normal in anything, can you?” Ron teased.

Harry’s best friend was grinning as though he was just taking the mickey out of him, but Harry knew his ginger friend well enough to see that the smile didn’t entirely reach into his eyes.

There were a lot of things about him that Ron was jealous of. And Harry knew it. And he tried to put up with it for the most part because Ron was one of his two best friends.

But... for all of the crap with Voldemort that Harry had been forced to endure, if as a small token of apology the universe had decided to grant him a big dick, then by the gods he was not going to apologize for that... and least of all, not to Ronald Weasley who by his own question already knew he himself was above average.

But Harry had to do it in a way that Ron would accept. He knew from his other best friend—the bushy-haired one who had recently starting arousing the interest of the aforementioned big dick—that if he just yelled at him, it would just go in one ear and out the other.

“Make you a deal, Ron,” Harry said in what he hoped was a joking voice. “I’ll give you my extra inches if you take Voldemort too.”

Ron seemed to pause and consider this for a moment. Harry hoped Ron was simply getting over his penis envy. He worried for his friend if he was actually debating the pros and cons of a bigger boner versus being the focus of attention of a psychopathic Dark Lord.

Finally, Ron seemed to make up his mind.

“No, mate, that’s all right,” Ron laughed nervously. That really didn’t reassure Harry too terribly much since that response would work for either possibility. Ron then turned and faced more toward Seamus and Dean.

“’Sides, my brother Bill really didn’t stop growing until he was about nineteen,” he said, holding his hand about a foot above his head.

“Maybe I’ll keep growing until I’m nineteen too!” Ron said with a smirk. He then moved that same hand down and held it out about a foot in front of his trousers.

Dean and Seamus started laughing at Ron, like teenage males were apt to do.

“Yeah, Ron! You go right on thinking that!”

“Hey, a bloke can dream, right?” Ron confirmed, now with a genuine, (temporarily) insecurity-free smile.

“So... uh, how do we get rid of these numbers?” Dean finally asked Seamus.

“Think about Umbridge again!” Ron suggested.

Their riotous laughter was broken up by the sound of the dormitory door opening and Neville walking in. All four of them shared a brief look of panic followed by relief. The door had been closed, but only now did they realize that no one had locked it. If someone had walked in while they were in the middle of that....

Neville paused in the open doorway as he looked up in confusion at all of the paper numerals still floating about his dorm mates’ heads.

“Uh, hey guys. What’s going on?”

Since they had all done the deed with their backs turned, everyone realized that their game of don’t-show-and-tell hadn’t been as awkward as feared. Plus, they had all gotten some laughs out of it, so they (now) felt much more comfortable talking about it.

So Ron just blurted it out.

“Just comparing the size of our wands!” Ron said cheerfully; he didn’t come in last place, after all.

“Seamus was crowing about himself again, so we called him on it,” Dean said.

“And in the spirit of camaraderie, we all decided to step up and help show him what a tool he’s been,” Harry finished.

Neville began to feel a bit nervous... more than usual. He knew what they were talking about in regards to Seamus. It was hard to not know. He wasn’t entirely sure what those numbers were, but if they were what he feared they were, it made him feel that much worse. His numbers didn’t look anything like theirs... well, a couple were close, but still... he really didn’t want them to know.

“Erm, okay... I’ll, uh, just leave then....” he said shakily, trying to sound humorous.

“No, wait!” Dean stopped him. “Get in here! Harry, close the door. Lock it this time.” While Harry did that, Dean grabbed Neville by the strap of his book bag over his shoulder and dragged him into the center of the room.

“Your turn now!” Dean said.

“What?!”

“C’mon Neville!” Ron added. “We all did it. You have to too!”

“No,” the timid Gryffindor replied, not very forcefully. “You guys are just being stupid.”

Seamus laughed. “Of course we are! We’re teenaged blokes. Stupid is our middle name!”

“It’ll only take a minute!” Ron cajoled him. “A quick spell and it’ll all be over. It’s no big deal.” Harry noticed Neville tense slightly.

“Or maybe it will be,” Seamus said, smirking, not noticing Neville’s reaction.

“What’s the matter, Neville?” Harry asked encouragingly. “It’s just the four of us. We’ve all done far stupider things than this before. Besides, we all live within ten feet of each other. It’s not like we all haven’t already seen each other starkers before.”

Well, actually, that was only partially true. They had all seen each other in varying stages of undress during the previous five years in both their dorm room and the communal bathroom. But none of them had ever seen Neville fully nude from the front... not that they tried to. He was always just very good at hiding himself with a well-placed towel or turning around at just the right moment.

Now that Harry had noticed Neville’s hesitancy, everyone else pretty much realized it as well: Neville was always diligent about covering himself up. And it wasn’t just because he was a bit rounder in his earlier years... “boy boobs” the Slytherins occasionally teased. No, there was only one part of him that was always hidden.

Harry began to suspect that Neville was simply embarrassed that he didn’t measure up to everyone else.

“You know what? It’s okay, Neville. It’s just the five of us. We would never make fun of you. But if you really don’t want to do it, then we’ll respect that.”

Ron, Dean, and Seamus all wore looks of outrage that clearly indicated they were not going to respect that. Again, each of them felt that since they had all done it, then Neville should as well. But a quick glare from Harry warned them that they would respect Neville’s decision.

However, unfortunately for the scared Gryffindor, Harry’s noble attempt to spare him embarrassment backfired. Neville was grateful Harry had offered an escape, but he knew that if he backed out now, the teasing in the long run would only be worse. It was better to just get the laughs over with now, and then hold them to Harry’s promise.

“Okay, fine,” Neville agreed, resigned. He went over to his bed, put down his bag, and rejoined the other four standing in the middle of the room. “You all promise you won’t make fun of me?”

They all nodded honestly this time. They all suspected the cause for his embarrassment, but if their normally shy and timid roommate could summon the bravery to put himself out there, like this, then today they would be proud to call him a Gryffindor.

After all, for a teenage male, fear of inadequacy could be debilitating.

Seamus explained how the spell worked, and Dean reminded Neville that the numbers would float up for them to see, so he could turn around and face away if he wanted.

While Neville performed the spell with his back turned, Ron waved and caught everyone else’s attention, holding his thumb and forefinger about three inches apart. Harry punched him on the shoulder, light enough to still be “between friends,” but hard enough to remind Ron he wasn’t being all that friendly.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, but was really only about thirty seconds, they could all hear rustling as the tape unwrapped itself and began to rise. Neville stood there, still frozen. No one had remembered to mention that he could button up after the tape unwrapped. Those not directly behind him could see enough of the sides of his face to realize that he had his eyes shut tightly.

Silence filled the room. The paper-tape numbers floated above Neville’s head for all to see. The four other guys stared in disbelief.

It was a reflex, instinct, the irresistible urge to look at the forbidden. They all ran around to Neville’s front side to see with their own eyes what their minds (and prides) did not believe.

The four friends stared in shock at Neville’s very big secret; the numbers were true!

Every guy knew there was an unwritten rule that said it was okay to peek at another guy, solely for the purpose of sizing up the competition. Every guy did it. But all four of them now stared blatantly, hoping there was another unwritten rule somewhere that said it was okay to stare as long as it was in amazement and envy, and not lust.

Indeed, all four of them did stare in amazement and envy, even Harry, each of them wondering what it would be like if they awoke one day to find that hanging from between their legs. Dreams of how they’d use such a magnificent piece of equipment, if it were their own, were interrupted when it nearly instantaneously returned to normal size... a very normal size.

“You’re definitely a grower and not a show-er!” Dean said with a laugh as Neville fumbled to pull his trousers back up. Now that the shock and awe part of the show was over, staring was forbidden so they all quickly looked back up.

They were all surprised to see Neville’s eyes shiny and red; he looked near tears.

“You promised you wouldn’t laugh!” he accused, his voice crackling.

“Why would we laugh at you?” Dean asked, confused. Honestly, they were all boggled by his reaction.

“Because I’m so big! I’m just a freak!”

“Why would you think that, Neville?” Harry asked gently.

“Because Gran always says that’s... that that’s my dirty place. That... that getting... getting excited is wrong. That it’s only for mummies and daddies.” The four other roommates shared an understanding look. Neville certainly didn’t talk like that, so they knew that was definitely his grandmother talking.

“That t- touching... down there... was a sin,” Neville continued, struggling to keep it together. “I just figured that since it was bad, then bigger was worse. And it’s true! I’ve always been... been fat, so it just figures I’d be fat there too!

“Everyone makes fun of me for it,” he cast them an apologetic look meaning he didn’t mean them, “so I just knew if they were going to make fun of it up here,” he said, indicating his chest and stomach, “they’d make fun of me being fat down there too!”

Again, Neville’s four roommates shared a disbelieving look. To the average teenage guy, the thought of being ashamed of such an amazing blessing was totally incomprehensible. And yet on the other hand, they all also knew Neville and his grandmother. If it were possible that a guy could be made to feel ashamed of being so well endowed, then they knew that Augusta Longbottom was the one witch capable of doing that.

They also remembered that Neville’s grandmother always kept him rather sheltered. She’d even refused to sign his permission form to attend the special “Personal Health for Wizards” class back in second year. Though it was never spoken of, even Vernon Dursley had signed Harry’s form... anything to “keep you freaks from reproducing!” (Granted, it had been before Harry was locked up after the Dobby incident.)

Since Ron had been the one most likely to make fun of Neville (and he still had the sore shoulder to prove it), he stepped forward to give him a friendly pat on the back.

“Let me tell you something, Neville. Well, several. First, that,” Ron said, pointing at the numbers, “has nothing to do being fat or not. And second, you need to ignore what your grandmother has been telling you about this. She’s just not equipped to talk about it. I’m willing to bet you that every guy in this room... well, maybe not the Boy Who’s Hung, because he’s already well off, but I’m willing to bet that all the rest of us would give our left nuts to trade with you!”

Neville looked around and saw that both Dean and Seamus were nodding in agreement with Ron’s offer of trade... and Harry looked ready to trade another punch for the new title.

“So if bigger is better... OH!” Neville interrupted himself, finally making that connection for the first time (honestly, he had been a very sheltered child), “then why are you guys always making fun of Draco Malfoy for being so... well, so big?”

Dean and Seamus started laughing. “Oh no, we don’t make fun of him for being big, we make fun of him for trying to imply that he is.”

“He’s not?” Neville asked, looking happier for the first time. Finally, he might be better than Draco Malfoy at something.

“Merlin, no! He’s tiny!” Ron said with great relish.

“How do you all know that?”

Harry was about to start to explain, but decided to cut his answer short. “It’s a bit complicated, but let’s just say a very reliable source told me about a conversation overheard where Pansy Parkinson was complaining about just how ill-equipped Malfoy was.”

All five Gryffindors allowed a moment to enjoy the woes of Draco Malfoy, but then Neville turned serious again.

“So, you still won’t say anything about this to anyone else, right?” he asked after a few moments of thought.

“Are you kidding?!” Ron asked, nearly shouting. “If I was almost nine inches, I’d be shouting it from the top of the Astronomy Tower. Better start making a list of the girls you fancy, Nev. Once word of that monster of yours gets out, half the girls at this school will be lined up to help you break it in.

“You just be sure to...” Ron trailed off. He almost warned him to “keep that thing away from my sister,” but he stopped himself at the last second. The last thing he wanted was to give Neville, who had taken Ginny to the Yule Ball almost two years earlier, any ideas.

All four of the other boys were looking at Ron expectantly, waiting for him to finish the sentence.

“You just be sure to save a girl or two for the rest of us!”

“Well, you needn’t worry about that, as I’m not going to be telling anyone.”

“Are you kidding?!” Ron repeated himself identically. “Once...”

“Half the girls will be lined up, yeah, you said that. But who are they going to be? The sluts of the school?” Neville might as well have just slapped them, because they’d never heard him speak like that before.

“Look, I don’t know about you guys, and maybe I’m not a ‘real guy,’ but I don’t want my... my first time with a girl to be with just anyone. I want it to be special. I want her to be special,” he said forcefully but politely.

“If you are right, if... this,” he said, gesturing his hand downwards, “makes girls look at me differently, then I don’t want them to know. I’m still a shy, scared, chubby, clumsy idiot. If a girl’s going to look at me, then that’s all I want her to see.”

Ron was totally unconvinced; Dean and Seamus seemed hesitant, but Harry looked very proud of his friend.

“We promise, Neville. We won’t say a word to anyone.”

Reluctantly, the other three nodded in agreement. They couldn’t very well say otherwise now.

Satisfied with their promises, a much more confident Neville Longbottom allowed a sly smile to appear on his face... probably for the first time in his life.

“And later, if a girl does become interested in me... well, if at some point she wants to see more, let’s just say I’ll give her a whole lot more to look at then!”

“Now you’re talking!” Ron exclaimed as all five of them began laughing. “I knew you had it in you!”

“And if you’re really lucky, you’ll have it in her too!” Dean added.

Again, Ron resisted the urge to warn Neville away from Ginny for fear of giving him ideas. As their laughter died down, he noticed it was almost time for dinner. Seamus went back to his Playwizard to figure out how to make the numbers go away, as well as take one last look at some of the pictorials.

Before heading down to see if Hermione had returned from the library yet, Ron pulled Harry aside for a moment as the other three left the dormitory.

“Sorry, Harry, maybe I’m an idiot and missed something, but Dean said that Seamus said he was two-and-a-half feet. Surely he wasn’t implying he was that big, was he?”

Harry started laughing. “Well Ron, you are an idiot!” he teased. “But no, that’s not what he was saying. Two-and-a-half feet. Don’t you get it? Two feet,” Harry pointed at his trainers, “plus a half,” he said, holding his hand out six inches in front of his groin.

Ron thought about it for a second before he started laughing. “Oh, okay!”

“Oh, and Ron?” Harry added seriously. “Don’t call me Shirley.”

Ron just stared.

Damn! Hermione would have laughed, Harry complained to himself seeing the blank look on his friend’s face. No matter how many times Harry or Hermione explained the joke Ron still didn’t get it.

Harry could not help but be reminded about how during the summer previous, Hermione had invited both him and Ron over to her house for a weekend. Ron declined, saying that Molly had volunteered him to help de-gnome the garden that weekend. While probably true, Harry also suspected Ron wasn’t too eager to spend an entire weekend living as a Muggle in a Muggle house... a house, no less, that he had once referred to as Libraryland.

As Ron started down the stairs, Harry just stood for moment with a goofy grin on his face as he thought back to that weekend. One evening, they had all watched a movie that was on television. Despite his appearance as a well-educated, mild-mannered dentist, Mr. Granger loved campy comedies, and thought Airplane! was the funniest movie in the world.

Harry recalled that it had been especially hot that weekend. He recalled quite clearly—memorized one might say—that Hermione had been wearing an especially short pair of shorts, as well as a very lightweight green blouse. He could not help but stare at her arse every time she got up or sat down next to him on the sofa.

And if short shorts were the greatest things in the world (since Harry was definitely an arse man), then air conditioning was a close second. Not only did it cut through the stifling heat, but also Hermione must have been especially sensitive to it.

The Grangers’ telephone was near one the ceiling ventilation registers. Earlier that afternoon she had been tied up on the phone with a telemarketer, waiting for him to shut up long enough for her to tell him to never call again. After standing under that constant blast of cold air for several minutes, when she finally hung up and turned around, Merlin help him, he could see her that her nipples were poking through her bra and blouse.

Obviously Hermione knew that this had happened for once she was off the phone, she immediately hurried out into the heat of the back yard under the pretense of letting Crookshanks out. She stood out there for a minute while certain parts of her—two to be exact—warmed up a bit. She had tried to hide herself, and had turned quickly, but Harry had still seen.

And it had been glorious!

And moving on to think about something OTHER than Hermione’s bum and boobs, Harry added to himself as he felt a lurch in his trousers that had nothing to do with the Size Me spell, except for the results. He hurried to catch up with Ron and the other guys.

He wondered if all this rainy weather would make Hermione feel cold.

* * *

Back in the present, Ron was still shuddering from the memory of Ginny freezing him and telling him about hers and Neville’s exploits.

Merlin’s balls! How on earth did Neville manage THAT? he complained to himself. Neville... of all people! Why couldn’t I be the one hung like a centaur?

No, even after all this time, Ron wasn’t at all bitter about his sister dating Neville. Or other things.

Yeah, right.

After all, if someone were to condense the entire female ethos down to an exaggerated and stereotypical “Does this make my butt look big?”, then an equally condensed synopsis of the male psyche would be, “Is my dick too small?”

Now, in all honesty Ron knew his own six and-a-third inches (he’d gained a little more since last year) meant he was still in the “above average” category. But all he could think of (in worry) was how Harry and Neville were still so much bigger than he was.

It didn’t matter that according to the statistics, Ron was still larger than more than half of the men on the planet. He was a guy. The grass was always greener... the cock was always bigger in someone else’s pants.

Well, except for Malfoy’s, Ron thought with a grin. Okay, he did feel a little better about that.

“I believe it, Ronald,” Luna said earnestly, recapturing his attention. “You could be one of the best in class. Practice makes better. Why do you think your sister and Neville are practicing so much lately?”

Ron bit back his first response.

“They’re some of the best in the DA,” she reminded him as she turned and looked at the remnants of the blasted training dummies.

At this point, Ron either didn’t hear or wasn’t paying attention to the last part of what she was saying. He just wanted to get out of there. Even now, a few months into his seventh year, he was still a little unnerved to be alone with Luna Lovegood.

It wasn’t that he disliked her. It was weird... she was pretty, and yet she wasn’t, at least, not the way normal girls were. It was like there was just something... different about her... something he couldn’t identify... and he wasn’t sure if it was good or bad. In short, he just didn’t understand her.

And just then at that exact moment, Ron figured out now why he hadn’t been paying attention. At some point before she came into the room, one of the buttons on her white uniform shirt had come undone. With her looking at the training dummy, at this side angle, Ron could see inside her shirt... her pale, creamy, milky-white skin... her lacy white bra.

Lace?

TIME TO GO!

“Erm, right. Well, think I’m going to head down to the prefect’s bath. A bit dirty, you know...” he stuttered, trying to think of a way to leave politely as he waved his now-sweaty towel.

Luna turned back to face him. Ron was actually a bit disappointed by the loss of the peep show. Luna might have been Luna, but a bra-covered boob was still a bra-covered boob. Might even be worth a wank.

“Oh, don’t bother,” Luna said off-handedly, “Harry and Hermione are in there right now.”

Ron was confused. “They’re in there, together?”

“Shagging,” Luna replied, answering the “Why together?” question he hadn’t yet thought to ask.

“How do you know that?” Ron asked suddenly, in shock. Luna started to answer, but he cut her off.

“About bloody time!” he exclaimed, relieved. “If I had to sit and watch those two dance around each other for one more day, I’d lock them in the bath and banish their clothes myself!”

Luna just smiled and nodded patiently. Ron had already threatened something similar six times previously.

“So how’d it finally happen?” he wondered.

Looking a bit proud of herself, Luna told Ron all about what had happened... sitting by the lake, Draco’s suggestion, and her tricking Hermione. She left nothing out. By the time she was done, Ron was laughing hard.

“A Trouser Snake? Oh, Luna, that’s absolutely brilliant!” After a very satisfied sigh, he could not help but chuckle.

And then suddenly, Ron realized something.

Luna had said that she’d charmed herself to forget the sight of Harry’s... erm, Trouser Snake. But the only reason (in Ron’s opinion) she would’ve done that was if she didn’t care about how big Harry was. Still feeling lost in the immense shadows of Neville and Harry’s oversized members, he was still convinced that the only thing girls cared about was how well-hung a bloke was.

So with that assumption in mind, if Luna (or any other girl, because she was still just ‘Loony’) didn’t care about Harry’s size, then it had to be because he was now with Hermione, no longer single.

And just like that, Ron no longer cared that Harry and Neville were packing prodigious peckers. If Hermione and Ginny, respectively, were servicing the two of them, then that meant they were now both off the meat market. He was no longer in competition with them!

But... honestly, did that really matter anymore?

A few years ago when he first discovered the joys of wanking, Ron fantasized about having sex with any girl he wanted, at any time he wanted. He was thirteen; times were simpler, fantasies were simpler. And at that age, he was so easily excitable it literally was that vague... “any girl” at “any time.” He wasn’t even focused enough to think about... didn’t even need to think about details... who, where, when, how.

But as the years went by and he watched his classmates pair off (even if only temporarily), his desires became more refined. Now, he might fantasize about one specific witch in a certain situation. It still always varied, his fantasy du jour, based whatever caught his eye that day, but at least it was specific.

One day it might be visualizing Susan Bones spread-eagle after he saw her tightly-clinging knickers when she slipped on some ice and landed with her legs splayed out.

Fleur Delacour... enough said.

A different day, it might be the thought of bending Daphne Greengrass over the Slytherin lunch table and taking her from behind, after he watched her lean across that very same table to grab something from the other side.

Actually, that was a lot more than just one day....

Daphne Greengrass might have been a Slytherin, but she was one of the most moderate of her house, and she didn’t seem to interact with Malfoy all that much. That allowed Ron to realize that she was totally, effing HOT! In an evil, kinky, forbidden sort of way, of course. He always kept that particular fantasy on reserve backup, just in case he went a couple days without seeing anything particularly naughty.

Like Luna Lovegood’s creamy pale skin and her lacy white bra, for example.

STOP IT!

But despite all that, though his fantasies might have been rather varied, deep down in places boys didn’t talk about at parties, all Ron really wanted was to simply find a girl, one girl, who liked him for who he was.

And if she was willing to do any of several naughty things with him, well, so much the better.

If Ron truly intended to have sex with half the girls at Hogwarts like the man-whore that he knew he wasn’t... like in his thirteen year-old dreams... then being hugely hung like Harry or Neville was a tremendous advantage: he had little to worry about when all those random girls compared him to all the other random guys they slept with.

Eww! That’s a bit gross... Ron realized, now that he thought about it. Sure, the fantasy was fun, but in reality? Even with protective spells.... No wonder Neville didn’t want half the girls at the school lined up for him.

But if Ron could find that one special someone—someone for whom he didn’t have to hide his love of Quidditch, or pretend that he liked to do his homework, someone who would like him no matter what stupid things he said or did—then he knew that if she was going to put up with all of that, then surely she wasn’t going to quibble over an extra inch or two.

He could be who he was, and his manhood could be what it was, and he didn’t need to worry about comparing himself to Harry or Neville, or anyone else anymore.

Also, now that he thought about it, he supposed if he did find someone, if he tried just a little harder to maybe not say or do quite so many stupid and thoughtless things, then maybe she, whoever she was, might be a little willing to do any of those several naughty things with him.

And so finally, with Ron’s John Thomas-jealously finally put to rest, he suddenly remembered that, hey, six-and-a-third inches was still firmly above average... even if it did curve a little to the left. Without any change in blood flow, his trousers suddenly felt that much more snug.

Speaking of snug trousers, because there were no blood flow issues at the moment, the reason they were feeling a bit tight was because they were still sweaty and sticky from his hexing practice. Satisfied that he was no longer as small as he used to think he was, and also that his two best friends were in good hands... each other’s... Ron turned his attention to a more pressing matter. His nose wrinkled now that he could smell himself better... or worse.

“Well, I probably should head back up to the tower then and take a shower.” He threw the towel back over to the table. “Good ni...” he started to say, but stopped when he realized Luna had moved to block his path.

“They should be done in the bath in about an hour or so. If you really wanted to go down for a bath, we could wait and pass the time here,” she suggested casually.

“How...?” Ron started to ask. Oh, bloody hell! he complained to himself as he rolled his eyes when he noticed Luna taking her sketchbook out of her bag.

Okay, this time he was just going to have to tell her ‘no.’ He really had no desire to look at another Flippering Wingding, or whatever the hell it was.

“Luna...” he started to object.

“Could I draw your Trouser Snake?” she asked plainly. In one hand, he noticed she was holding her sketchbook and drawing pencil. Her other hand was clearly playing with that one unfastened shirt button.

Luna knew Ronald didn’t respond too well to subtlety.

A/N: Although the stats on our five male roommates are perfectly plausible for seventeen year-old males, I do confess to, erm, “stacking the deck” in Gryffindor’s favor. But that’s okay. There are plenty of Slytherins out there to help bring the Hogwarts average back down to normal! LOL

Coming soon (faster than chapter 2 did): the final chapter... Hermione makes her way to the Prefect’s Bath. What happens inside? We’ll find out! Well, partially... this is rated R, after all, not NC-17.