Priapism

Hey! Remember me?? Well, I've decided to give up on my other two stories for the time being and try something different. I hope you'll like this one. It came to me while watching TV (stupid Erectile Dysfunction ads) and just wouldn't go away. :D Hope you like it.

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Harry was hardly surprised when he woke up with a stiffie. He was a teenage boy, after all, and morning woodies were just a wonderful part of that life. He blinked his eyes open, going through the usual morning routine of scratching and stretching. One hand reached up to rub his eyes and face while the other moved down to give his bits a bit of a tug. He settled them more comfortably into his pants, letting out a yawn, and sat up.

He didn't like to wank in the mornings, as a matter of course. If he stayed lying down that long, he'd doze back off, no matter how quickly his hand was moving on him. Instead, he rolled out of bed, gathered a clean set of clothes from his trunk and staggered toward the bathroom. He didn't bother to hide the tenting in his pants because he roomed with four other boys who would, undoubtedly, be in the same condition when they woke up. The only two concerns among them were that they had managed to calm down before they got to the Great Hall, which could usually be taken care of by a quick morning piss and wasn't actually necessary since their robes did a wonderful job of hiding that condition anyway, and that they stand at least ten feet from each other until said condition had abated, just out of courtesy.

He made his way into the showers and stripped off, stopping to pee, which was no mean feat given the rather persistent trajectory involved. He stepped into the warm water, studiously ignoring the stiffness as he washed. However, when he was ready to shut off the shower and get dried off, his penis was still staring up at him, stubbornly hard.

“Go away,” he muttered down to it, rinsing once more in hopes that it would give up for the morning. Still, no luck. It stayed steadfastly stiff. “Damnit,” he sighed, glancing over his shoulder. There was another rule among the boys of this dorm, and probably every other dorm in every other school around the world. Wanking was necessary. It was natural. They all did it, and didn't hide that fact. It wasn't, however, something any of the others wanted to see. Do it behind the curtains of your bed or in a bathroom cubicle or wherever else you could do it without being in plain sight, but don't do it where someone could walk in and get an eyeful of your bare arse clenching with your head thrown back. (The exception to this rule was if you were with a girl and she was making your head roll back and your arse clench. It was encouraged to share your sexual exploits with your roommates, provided you had a cute girl in the bed with you.)

Harry couldn't be sure when anyone else would be coming in, but he reckoned he could risk it for at least a few minutes. If this bothersome erection hadn't left off by then, he'd go about his day as best he could until it gave up.

He put a little shampoo onto his hand and started to slowly stroke himself. It felt a bit different this time, maybe just because it was early in the morning and he rarely bothered to take care of this need before lunch time. Each stroke sent a shot of pure bliss through his veins and he moaned heartily. This one wasn't going to take long at all. In fact, he slowed himself down just a bit to keep from ending it too quickly. Still, within a few minutes of his first grasp, he was grunting out a rather nice orgasm, spurting several times onto the wall in front of him.

He sighed, leaning his arm against the wall and dropping his forehead against it. He was panting, which was unusual for such a quick jerk as that one. He let his breathing calm and stood to rinse himself again, then looked down, frowning.

His penis stared back at him, seemingly still as hard as it had been before. “What the--?” he muttered, giving it a small flick with his fingers. It bounced, but settled back into the same position, pointed straight at the ceiling.

In all the times that Harry had tossed off, this had never happened to him. He put his hand around it again and gave it another experimental tug. His knees weakened slightly at the feeling. But he'd just—He knew he'd just—Of course he had! The evidence was still on the wall in front of him. It should have gone flaccid by now.

He didn't have time for another go. He was already going to have to scarf his breakfast in order to make it to class on time. He did the only thing he could think of and turned the hot water off, leaving only the cold. It took his breath out of him as it poured over his head and body, and he stood under it until he was shivering violently, but his penis didn't slouch in the least.

“Persistent little bugger, aren't you?” he said, and shut the water off. He dried quickly, noticing that anytime he brought the towel near his bits, he felt a thrill roll through his that caused him to gasp.

He pulled on his pants and trousers, taking great care, when zipping up, to keep everything out of the way. He could hear voices in the stairwell and knew that most of Gryffindor house was already on their way to class. He hurried to finish dressing and sprinted back up the stairs, grabbing his bag quickly.

He made it to the Great Hall just in time to grab two slices of toast and a handful of bacon, and fashioned a sandwich to eat as he dashed off to class. He made it into the Charms classroom just before the bell rang, practically throwing himself into a seat between Ron and Hermione.

“Harry,” Hermione hissed as Professor Flitwick began his lecture. “Where have you been? You were very nearly late!”

Harry, still trying to catch his breath, pulled his book out of his bag. “Sorry, I overslept.”

Ron opened his mouth to say something, frowning, but Harry shot him a pleading look. Ron shut his mouth again, looking uncertain.

Harry tried to listen to the lecture on the Bedazzling Charm, but kept shifting uncomfortably as his pants pressed against his still-present erection. He wiggled so much that he distracted Hermione, who leaned over and whispered, “Would you please sit still?”

He rolled his eyes at her, shifting again. This time, the head of his penis brushed heavily against a rather worn spot on his trousers and the feeling caused him to moan softly.

Hermione and Ron both turned to look at him, Ron's eyes wide, Hermione's narrowed. When Flitwick left them alone to practice the charm, Hermione nearly pounced on him. “What is with you today?” she asked quietly, yet aggressively. “You're acting very nervous.”

“I'm fine,” he muttered, shaking his head. His cock gave a small throb and he bit off another moan. “I'm just—a bit tired, I reckon.”

Hermione studied him for another minute, then went to work on the spell. Harry got nowhere with it, and was given a rather stern lecture by Flitwick before they left the class. They had a free period, during which he and Ron went to the Common Room and Hermione headed off for Arithmancy. Harry sat in one of the arm chairs, swishing his wand around, pretending that he was practicing Flitwick's charm, but in actuality, he was constantly distracted by the twitching tumescence in his pants.

Finally, about halfway through their free period, he stood and, muttering something non-committal to Ron, rushed up to the boys' loo. He didn't have the time to mess with soap, really, since he didn't know when or if someone would be coming in. Instead, he dropped his trousers and leaned his left hand against the stall door.

As soon as his hand touched his cock, his knees gave out. It felt so incredible that he couldn't bite back the groan that ripped out of him. He forced himself back to his feet and grabbed hold again, more gently this time. He stroked it easily, letting his eyes fall shut. His breath caught in his throat and he leaned more heavily on his hand. His orgasm was building incredibly quickly and no matter how slowly or gently he moved his hand, it continued to come on at breakneck speed.

Within minutes, he was grunting and huffing as he spilled thickly onto the door in front of him. It took him longer to catch his breath than it had to come, and his hands trembled as he waved his wand to clean up the mess. As he pulled his trousers back up, he noticed that his penis was still hard as a rock. “What is [I]with[/I] you?” he snapped. “I can't spend all day doing this!”

His erection continued to point up at him as if letting him know that it wasn't going to surrender just because he wanted it to. He finished fastening his pants, noting that they felt even more confining on him now than they had before. He sighed as he pulled his robes down to cover the bulge, then moved downstairs.

Ron was waiting in front of the fire. “Where've you been? If we don't hurry, we're going to be late for Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

Harry just nodded, grabbing his bag. They hurried to the classroom and met up with Hermione outside. She looked at Harry with a calculated expression. “Why are you so flushed?”

His hand automatically went to his forehead. He did feel warmer than usual. “Oh—erm, we had to hurry to get down here. I guess I just got a bit winded.”

“Getting out of shape, Harry?” Ron joked.

Hermione, however, didn't seem to buy it. “Are you not feeling well?”

“I'm fine,” he said, trying to wipe any expression from his face.

She didn't get a chance to question him further, as the classroom door opened and Kingsley Shacklebolt motioned them inside. “No wands today,” he said in his deep, calm voice. “We're going to be doing something slightly different. Place your books and wands on the cushions and step into the middle of the floor, please.”

The students looked around uncertainly, but did as he asked. They gathered in a small group in the middle of the floor.

“I realize that most of you are convinced that, once you've learned defensive spells, your wands will always save you. That's a terrific theory--[b]if[/b] you don't lose your wand. What are you going to do, though, if your wand is knocked from your hand, or if you're disarmed? How are you going to defend yourself if you're unable to do it magically?”

A few of the students started to mumble, looking at each other in confusion. Even Hermione looked highly uncertain.

“This is a problem that Aurors face all the time. And for the next few weeks, I'm going to show you how we train for just such an event.” He waved his wand and the floor under their feet seemed to drop slightly. Harry looked down to realize that his feet were sinking a small way into the floor, which now felt squishy. “We're going to learn hand-to-hand combat.”

Most of the boys grinned at each other. The girls all seemed much less enthusiastic.

“So, pair off. Gryffindor against Gryffindor, Ravenclaw against Ravenclaw.”

Hermione looked around for a minute, then sighed. Parvati and Lavender had paired off, leaving her as the only unpaired female. She glanced up and saw Harry, and her face broke into a smile. “Harry, would you--?”

He couldn't turn her down. He didn't want to leave her without a partner. So, he wandered in her direction. “This should be fun,” he muttered.

She nodded, looking a little worried. “I—I know you'll go easy on me. Right?”

He laughed. “Of course, but I doubt that I'll have to. You're stronger than you think you are.”

She beamed and blushed slightly. “Well—thank you, Harry.”

“First move,” Kingsley said, calling their attention back to the front, “is a flip. I don't expect you to get this right the first time, but we'll give it a try. Finnigan! I need someone to demonstrate this with.” Seamus walked a bit hesitantly to the front. “Face me and hold your arms out, please. No, not to the sides, but in front of you. If you and an attacker are face to face, this is the easiest way to get away from them, if you can do it correctly.” Seamus didn't have the chance to see it coming.

Within a second, Kingsley had stepped close and tugged Seamus' hands out to either side. Then, still quick as a flash, he turned, knocking Seamus off balance and dropping him to the floor. “It doesn't give you much of an advantage, a second, maybe two, but it gives you a chance to do something to defend yourself and that's what matters.” Kingsley continued. “I'll show you once more. Remember,” he said, as Seamus righted himself, looking even more wary than before, “the objective is to get them off-balance so you have to move quickly and you likely won't get a second chance.” He once again pulled Seamus into what looked like an awkward embrace, then twisted and dropped him onto the mat floor.

As he got to his feet this time, Seamus muttered something under his breath that made Kingsley chuckle. He was walking a bit gingerly as he moved back to his spot across from Dean.

“Right. Pair off and see how you do! It will be a bit more difficult since your partner knows your intention, but that just means you need to be a bit inventive about it. Off you go!”

Hermione gave Harry a nervous glance. “Would you like to go first or--?”

Harry shook his head. “No, go ahead.”

She nodded, squaring her shoulders. Harry held his arms out loosely in front of him and was determined not to put up much of a fight. Of course, Hermione didn't know that.

She grabbed his arms and forced them apart, dragging him forward easily. Their bodies connected for only a brief second, but it was more than long enough for Hermione to feel what Harry had managed, for a moment, to forget.

Her eyes widened and she let out a yelp, but only after she'd actually started to twist her body. They both lost their footing and Harry went down, landing on his back on the mat with an Oomph! Hermione got her legs tangled with his and tripped, landing right on top of him.

There was a moment, short in reality but eternity in perception, in which she just lay there staring down at him in shock. He felt his face burning, but it was a trifle compared to the fuss his penis was kicking up in his trousers. It throbbed, heaving as much as it could in the little space left between their bodies and was only just merciful enough not to let loose its load.

Hermione gave another squeak and scrambled to her feet, staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the offending member. Harry rolled over as quickly as he could and stood, adjusting his robes as best he could before turning back to her. His cheeks were still hot and he knew the blush on them was as bright as the sun.

She was still staring at him when he turned around, but he was surprised to find that he wasn't the only one blushing. “Harry--?” she started, quietly, but he waved her off. “Not now,” he said. “Please.”

She nodded, finally dropping her eyes. Harry looked around, relieved to see that most of the students were absorbed in their own practice and hadn't seen a thing. Most of them.

Ron was watching the two of them with a bemused expression. Harry gave him a tight smile and turned away. “Um, so should I--?”

Hermione chewed her lip, her cheeks glowing. “Oh. Well, yes I suppose you have to.” She lowered her voice, stepping closer. “Are you still--?”

Harry swallowed hard. “Er, yeah. But I'll—try to keep it away from you.”

Hermione blinked, then laughed softly. “It's fine, Harry. It's a natural thing, and you shouldn't—“

“Um, Hermione? Can we not talk about this? I'm going to combust in a moment.”

She giggled, but nodded. “All right.” She took her place and held her arms out. “Give it your best shot.”

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Well, there's the first bit. I have more written, but I decided to lengthen the story a bit and so I'm piecing it together a bit at a time. Let me know what you think?

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You have no idea how glad I am that this story is going over so well! This chapter is short, sorry about that, but when I started to rewrite it, this part just came in a bit smaller than the others. I'm loving the reviews, too! Thank you for them! Cookies for all!!! :D

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The class ended with little more embarrassment, and Hermione and Ron headed off to lunch. Harry didn't join them. The encounter with Hermione had left him aching, and he knew that the dorms would be nearly deserted this time of day. He was determined to get rid of his bothersome erection before Transfiguration.

He hurried into his dorm, making sure that no one was around, then shut and locked the door. Then, he shed his robes and started to get out of his clothing. It felt strange enough to be doing this during the day, let alone to be undressing for it. Living with so many other boys around, a quick wank under the blankets in the dark of the dorm was as much as he was used to, and that rarely included actually stripping his pyjama pants off.

When he'd gotten his kit off, he stretched out on his bed and drew the curtains. He summoned the bottle of lotion that he kept hidden between his bed and the night table and popped the lid, letting the cream warm in his palm for a moment before applying it to his still-stiff penis.

Again, the sensation was immediate and severe. It felt better than it had even a few hours ago, better than he could remember it ever feeling. The first stroke sent a wave of pleasure rolling through him that made him gasp involuntarily. The second actually made his toes curl. He had to pause before the third, because it was all coming to a head too quickly, and he worried that maybe that's why his condition wasn't abating.

It had never mattered before, of course. In fact, in this situation, he figured the quicker the better. There was less of a chance of getting caught, more of a chance that he might actually make it to lunch. Still, there was something really odd about his continued erection and, it seemed, normal rules didn't necessarily apply here.

So he waited. The next stroke was slower, his touch much gentler than he normally applied. It made no difference. The warm simmer in his testicles became a full flame and his hips jerked of their own accord. He tried to stop it, but was even more helpless than usual to make it last. A grunt escaped him as he came again, and he could almost hear every joint in his body protest as his body contorted with the force.

Several long minutes later, he opened his eyes and blew out a long breath. He wasn't relieved, however. His hand was still around his penis and the damned thing was still as hard as ever.

“How is this possible?” he muttered, wiping his face with a clean corner of his sheet. His testes twitched in, what seemed to him, a smug way. “I'm not amused,” he told them, sighing. “Give up already.”

He lay still for a little while longer, hoping, praying, that this would make some difference. It didn't. Transfiguration class was drawing closer and he knew he'd either have to suck it up and get dressed again or skive off. The latter seemed like a much more pleasant option at the moment.

He sat up to grab his wand and gave it a wave. The mess on and around him vanished and he was thrilled, not for the first time in his life, that magic was so convenient. Then, he stretched out again.

His mind ran over his two options again, although it was, admittedly, spending a great deal more time on skipping class than braving it. His body seemed inclined to agree as the post-orgasmic need for a nap seeped into him. He wasn't going to argue. He'd been good this year about going to class and doing his work. He deserved a day off, he supposed.

His mind made up, he curled up under the blankets, pulling his knees up, then straightened out again. The pressure his legs put on his testicles in that position made him feel like he was going to explode. He wondered, as he rolled onto his back, if testicles could actually pop.

He stretched out on his back, then glanced down. His stiffened penis left a clear outline in the covers. Anyone walking by would be able to see it.

“Christ,” Harry muttered, rolling over onto his stomach. He realized quickly that that wouldn't work either. The weight of his body pressed his hardened member into the mattress and he almost involuntarily started to thrust against it. I have to come, he thought, the idea amazing him as it passed through his mind. He had come. Three times. That should have been more than enough. He should have been limp and sated by now. Instead, he seemed to be throbbing with need.

He shifted onto his side and somehow managed to find a position that put no pressure on his already-tight testicles, but still allowed him to hide his erection. He must have dozed off because he began to have very vivid, although jointed, images of women dancing around him. They were naked, their full breasts swaying and bouncing as they moved, their pelvis gyrating towards him, their legs kicking high into the air so he could see everything that was between them. He heard himself moan even through the haze of sleep, and awoke not much later to find himself lying in a pool of sticky semen. He flinched, grabbing his wand and cleaning up the mess.

He almost didn't care to look. He didn't have to, really. He could feel it. Sure enough, his penis was as hard as ever, aching as it pushed itself out from his body. It was an angry red now and the veins just under the surface stood out like mountains under the tightly stretched skin. His testicles were sore, so much so that he could have almost doubled over from it.

This was definitely not normal. Something was very, very wrong here.

He groaned as he shifted again, onto his back. To hell with anyone seeing this. It hurt too bad to have his testicles touching anything but the cool sheet and even that stung a bit.

He dozed again and the dancing girls came back, double in number this time and much more affectionate than before. His shout as he came woke him this time. He opened his eyes to find he was arched off of the bed, his orgasm rocketing through him time after time. The puddle that settled around him this time soaked the sheets thoroughly both above and below him and he didn't have the energy to move to clean it up.

He dropped back onto the mattress, his semen collecting uncomfortably under his back, his body aching. He didn't dare hope, though, that this had been the one. He barely had to think to realize that he was as he had been since he'd woke up that morning. Only worse. It seemed that he got more randy with each climax.

His mind swam with images of the naked dancing girls, moving closer to him, their smiles wicked as they bent and writhed before him. He feared closing his eyes because he had no doubt that dozing would bring on another orgasm. He almost laughed at the oddity of this worry. He'd never before feared having an orgasm. In fact, he usually fought tooth and nail to get a good one, and had never before had one as incredible as this last one.

Something about this whole situation felt so wrong. It was too consuming. His eyes drifted shut and he forced them open again. “Stay awake,” he muttered, lifting his arm to wipe his forehead. He was sweating quite heavily and his sheets stuck to his back from the disgusting cocktail of bodily fluids he was lying in. He managed to roll just enough to get his wand and cast a half-hearted cleaning charm and two cooling spells, one over his sheets and one under.

The spell wafted around his inflamed penis, and he shuddered. It felt like a cool breath across his hot skin. His eyes had started to drift closed again when the door to the dorm banged open.

“Harry! What in the bloody hell are you doing? You missed Transfiguration. McGonagall's about to do her nut.”

Harry forced his eyes open again and stared up at Ron. “I don't feel well,” he mumbled.

Ron's face paled. “What? Is it your scar again? Is You-Know-Who up to something?”

Harry shook his head, wiping his forehead again. “No. It's not that.”

“What is it then? It had better be good or you're in for a detention.”

“It's—nothing. I'm just not feeling well.”

Ron frowned at him. “Should I get Hermione to come up and check on you?”

“N-No,” Harry said, shaking his head vehemently. “No, it's all right.”

“McGonagall then? You really should be looked at.”

“I'm fine.”

“Right. Wait until I tell Hermione that.”

“Ron, don't—“ he started, but Ron was already headed back out of the room. Harry groaned, shifting back onto his side. He was amazed that Ron hadn't seen the bulge in the sheets already. He certainly didn't want Hermione to see it.

He groaned again as a wave of lust rolled through him, so strongly that his eyes rolled in his head. How could he still be horny? He'd had five orgasms in just a couple of hours. This wasn't normal on so many different levels.

Hermione burst through the door a minute later, her eyes wide. “Harry? What's wrong? Ron said it wasn't your scar, so what is it? Do you have a fever?” She caused the bed to bounce as she sank down beside him and he grunted, wincing. Her hand moved to his forehead and she frowned, her fingers trailing across it. Harry's penis gave a jovial little throb when her hand came into contact with his skin. “You're warm, but I don't think you're feverish. Are you hurting?”

Harry almost laughed. “A bit, yeah.”

“Where? In your stomach? Did you get hit by a bludger at practice yesterday? Straighten out and let me see.”

His eyes widened and he curled on himself just a bit more. As he did, his penis got caught between his legs and his stomach and throbbed miserably. He let out a cry of mixed pain and ecstasy, tossing his head back.

Hermione gasped, grabbing his legs and trying to pull them away from his chest. “Harry, loosen up. Let me see! Ron, help me.”

Harry redoubled his efforts to stay curled up. “Don't,” he moaned. “Please, Hermione, don't.”

With both of them tugging on him, he didn't stand a chance. He moaned as they straightened him out and Hermione pulled back the blankets.

The only sound for a long moment was his breathing. Then Hermione squeaked, “Oh my God.”

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:D Poor Hermione. Poor Harry. *grins* I have more. I might post it sometime later today, if I can work out a few little problems. Thanks, as always, for reading!!!

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Okay, I'm dedicating this one to Hercules, who deserves to have a good laugh at someone else's expense, in my opinion. :D Enjoy, dude! I'll go ahead and post this, but I'm going to have to hold chapter four a bit longer, because I want five to be done before I post it. So you'll have to bear with me. :D

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“Bloody hell, Harry!” Ron snapped. “Have some manners! There's a woman present!”

Harry shut his eyes, looking away from them as his face burned red. “Go away,” he groaned. “Please just—let me alone.”

“Don't tell me this is why you missed McGonagall's class,” Ron continued, sounding outraged.

“Ron, shush,” Hermione said quietly. “Harry? What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” he sighed, rolling to his other side. “Nothing, just—go away, please?”

“Did we interrupt you?” Hermione asked quietly. “I mean, I know you had that—little problem earlier.”

Harry wished he could just disappear into the mattress. “Hermione—“

“What little problem?” Ron demanded. “What are you talking about?”

“Ron, please. You sounded like you were in pain, Harry.”

“What little problem?” Ron asked again, more loudly this time.

“Ron, shut up!” Hermione snapped. “Are you in pain, Harry?”

“Why are you standing there talking to him while he's naked in his bed?” Ron fumed. “You should cover your eyes or something.”

“Go away, Ron. If you can't be useful or even the least bit helpful then just go away!” Hermione growled. “Harry, what's going on? If we just walked in at a bad time, please just tell us and we'll go.”

Harry buried his face in his pillow. He wanted nothing more than to ask them to leave, but he was entirely too busy trying to hold off another impending orgasm. He ground his teeth but couldn't stop the moan that escaped him as his libido ran away with his brain.

“Harry, I know something is wrong.” He felt her fingers brush the bare skin of his back, hesitantly, and his skin seemed to burn at the contact. “Please, tell me what it is.”

His mind froze up at her touch and he had the strongest urge to roll over and grab her, to drag her onto the bed and bury himself in her in every way possible. “Christ, Hermione,” he moaned, his head swimming. “Oh, God.”

“Harry, what--?”

“I can't—I want—.” He broke off as his penis gave a massive throb and he shot into the sheets next to him. His body shuddered through the orgasm, a cry ripping almost painfully from his throat.

There was another long silence as he panted himself back to an almost relaxed state. He didn't have to look at Ron and Hermione to know that they'd seen every bit of his display.

“Holy bleedin' fuck,” Ron said, almost reverently.

Hermione had pulled her hand away from him, but he felt the bed shift as she reached for him again. “Harry?”

“Don't!” he cried, squirming away from her, his whole body shivering. “Don't touch me.” His stomach clenched and he grimaced, feeling his balls tighten again.

“What's wrong with him?” Ron muttered.

“I don't know,” Hermione whispered back. “Harry, you have to talk to me. I won't touch you again, I promise, but you have to tell me what's wrong.”

His temper was incredibly short at the moment and he rolled onto his back again, pointing to his crotch. “This is what's wrong!” he howled. “This! The fucking thing won't go away. I've been hard since I woke up this morning and I just keep coming and I can't stop needing it! And it hurts so bad that I can barely breathe!”

Hermione gasped. “It's—what? You—You can't—get rid of this—erm, erection?”

“No,” he groaned, his back arching almost on its own. Her voice was sending chills through him. He had a brief moment of sanity during which his brain told him quite firmly that he wasn't interested in Hermione that way. It was quashed quickly by the fact that his hips arched toward her of their own volition.

“And you've—already had an orgasm?”

“Six,” he sighed, rolling his head back into the pillow.

“Six?” Ron gasped. “SIX?”

“Shush, Ron. But it just keeps coming back?”

“It never goes away!” Harry snapped. “It stays hard. It gets harder, in fact. And Christ, Hermione, it aches.” He couldn't help himself. He reached his hand down and wrapped it around his erection. Ron let out a disgusted noise and Hermione gasped as he stroked himself fiercely.

He grunted through his teeth with each stroke and managed three or four this time before his testicles nearly climbed inside of him and he came hard. He felt the warm liquid splash onto his chest and shoulder, heard it splatter the pillow next to his head and the curtains behind him.

Ron let out a low whistle. “Well, at least you shouldn't have any left after that.”

“Ron!” Hermione snipped. “Shush. Harry? Are you all right?”

His head was still swimming, being taken over by a red haze that seemed to be coming directly from his groin. “Ungh,” he muttered. He heard Hermione mutter a cleaning spell and felt the warm liquid disappear from his body.

“Harry, did you—take anything? A potion or pill?”

“No,” Harry insisted, his body trembling. “Nothing.”

“Could someone have slipped you something?”

He shrugged, sighing as his eyes started to drift closed. “I dunno.”

His stomach flinched again, the sensation traveling down and pooling in his groin. “We should get someone,” Hermione suggested. “McGonagall.”

“No!” Harry asserted. “No.”

“Well, we have to have help, Harry.”

“No!” Harry howled, feeling his stomach clench again.

“Harry, please?” Hermione begged, reaching out to touch his forehead. Her touch sent a jolt through him that was more painful and more exciting than electricity. He pulled away from her.

“No,” he whispered. He was having a hard time staying awake now. He felt drained, even though his penis pulsed continuously. “No.”

He drifted off. The dancing girls were back, but they were led, this time, by a troupe of even more attractive women, as intoxicating as Veelas, who insisted on using their tongues to write their names on his bare skin. He couldn't sleep through this one either, although it seemed to last at least a bit longer than the last. He regained consciousness just as his orgasm overpowered him again. His body tensed to the point that his joints cracked and he shrieked as the force of it rolled through him.

“He hit the ceiling!” Ron gasped, from somewhere to Harry's left. “That's just wrong.”

“Harry? Can you hear me?”

He didn't bother to answer, just panted as exhaustion tried to drag him back under. He managed a whimper, but even that strained his throat. Someone pulled the blankets back up over him, tucking them gently around him.

“Here,” Hermione said, and he felt her touching the back of his head. “Drink this.”

He squirmed away from her. “Don't—touch,” he uttered. “Let Ron.”

Her hand moved away and he felt another take hold of his neck. “Lean up, mate,” Ron said, and Harry could still make out the bit of disgust in his voice. He let Ron lift him and took a few small sips of water, the pain in his throat easing slightly.

Ron set him back against his pillows and he lay as still as he could, trying to rest without sleeping. Hermione must have mistaken the signs and thought he'd dozed off again because she whispered, rather loudly, “Is he still—rigid?”

“I don't know!” Ron said and she shushed him.

“Don't wake him up. Look and see.”

“I'm not looking. You shouldn't look either! It's not--polite.”

“Oh for heaven's sake, Ron, I've already seen it. Harry's too far gone to care right now and I'm more worried about his condition than what's polite! And if you didn't want me to look, then you should have done it yourself.” She huffed and he felt the blankets lift off of him. “Damn,” she muttered. “I don't get this.”

“You've never heard of it before?”

“Well, there are potions that can create something similar, but not nearly as severe. They're made to prolong the erection and increase the number of orgasms for both men and women, but—the most I've ever heard of was two or three. He's had how many now? It would take a much stronger potion than I've ever heard of, or an enormous overdose of a common one, to create this effect. I just don't understand it.”

“Do you think that he took something and just didn't want to tell you?”

Hermione sighed. “I don't know. I'd have to say no. Why would he want to take something to prolong a sexual experience? He isn't having sex with anyone.”

“Well, except himself,” Ron chuckled.

“But would he want to prolong that?”

“Doubt it. I wouldn't. Especially given the fact that it's hard to find the privacy for a quick one.”

They were quiet for a long moment and Harry stayed quiet too, until his testicles squeezed demandingly again and he groaned.

“Not again,” Ron muttered. “How can he have anything left?”

“You'd be amazed at the amount your testicles can hold.”

Hearing Hermione say the word testicles made Harry groan again. He could easily imagine her soft, small hands holding onto his, rolling them gently, squeezing them slightly. “Fuck,” he hissed and bucked his hips as he let loose again. Hermione let out a little squeal and he heard a chair scrape across the wooden floor.

“Watch it, mate!” Ron yelled. “Oh, that's disgusting.”

“He can't help it, Ron!” Hermione argued. “For Heaven's sake, there's something wrong with him. Show a little sympathy.”

Harry started to tell her thank you, but rolled off into a doze before he had the chance. Voices woke him this time, bringing him back from a dream in which three blondes with breasts the size of Quaffles were taking it in turns to stroke every inch of him.

“..don't understand,” Hermione was saying. “It's just—beyond my grasp.”

“It's beyond mine as well,” a voice said and Harry shuddered. That was, unquestionably, Professor McGonagall. “Has he been conscious, then?”

“Yes, but he's dozing more often now. This last one seemed to have worn him out.”

“How long has this—condition persisted?”

“Since he woke up this morning,” Hermione said. “I don't know when that was. He said he'd had six—erm, climaxes then and he's had three more since.”

“We can test for potions in his system. It's a simple enough spell, although I'd prefer to have Madame Pomfrey perform it.”

Harry grunted. “No,” he whispered. “Damnit, no.”

“Harry?”

“No Pomfrey. Just—leave me alone.”

“Mr. Potter, whatever your arguments may be, save them. Your embarrassment will have to take a back seat to the fact that your health is actually at risk here. Your continued tumescence is depriving your brain of blood and therefore of oxygen. Your physical exertion makes it even more necessary that you have both blood and oxygen pumping properly. We must find some way to rid you of this—problem. If that requires allowing every witch and wizard within two hundred kilometers of here come and have a look at you, then you'll just have to deal with it.”

Harry sighed. “Dammit.”

McGonagall conjured a quill and piece of parchment and scratched something down on it. “Mr. Weasley, if you would please deliver this message to the hospital wing immediately. Miss Granger, will you stay with Mr. Potter, please?”

“Of course,” Hermione said. “Is there anything I should do?”

“Continue performing cleansing and cooling charms as needed. Otherwise, just keep an eye on him.”

Harry heard two sets of footsteps leave the room and heard Hermione's chair scoot nearer. “Harry?”

He grunted in response.

“How—are you?”

“Tired.” He whimpered as his testicles throbbed again, and his hips lifted of their own accord. “Christ,” he moaned.

“Does it hurt?”

He almost laughed. It seemed painful, but he knew that wasn't exactly it. He was so turned on, so hard, that his whole midsection ached. He wondered again, and with no small amount of concern, if his bits could actually explode. “Yes,” he hissed. “So good. God, Hermione. It's so miserable and so incredible. I need to—Oh, God, I need to come.”

He was writhing on the mattress, his feet moving to kick the sheets away and he heard Hermione gasp. “Oh my God,” she whispered, but every word seemed to lay on his hot skin like a warm tongue. “Oh, God, Harry.”

He gripped himself tightly and stroked, just once. His hips whipped up and he felt all of his muscles clench. He stopped, waiting for the feeling of imminent release to subside a bit, then stroked again. White light flared behind his eyes with every stroke and he thought he might drown in the pleasure washing through him. It was a huge strain on him not to bring himself off right away, but he wanted to hold it off for just a bit. Pause, stroke, pause, stroke, pause…His whole world seemed to collapse in on him until all that existed was his hand and its motions.

“Harry?” Hermione's hand touched his arm and he grabbed it, clutching it tightly with his own as he came with a keening wail. He felt the world slip away from him this time. He surrendered to a blackness so deep that he wondered if he'd ever come back.

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Getting there. :D Stick with me! And reviews will earn you cookies. Lots of them. ;)

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I wish I could tell you how much all of the reviews on this story mean to me. :D You can't even imagine! You all completely rock!

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He didn't know how long he'd been out, but he felt something cool on his forehead and shivered.

“Harry? Can you hear me?”

“My-nee?” he muttered, unable to open his eyes. “Wha'hpnd?”

“You passed out. Are you all right?”

Her voice was very close to his ear and he struggled to open his eyes so he could look at her. He only managed to open them a slit, but it was enough to see her. She was perched on the bed next to him, leaning over him as she smoothed the washcloth over his skin. Her brown eyes were near enough that, even without his glasses, he could see them clearly. She looked tired, and worried, but her face broke into a small smile as he looked up at her.

“Madam Pomfrey has been by. She performed the spell McGonagall was telling us about, and it seems you've been given a potion. She wasn't able to determine which potion though, which really doesn't help us very much at the moment.”

Harry didn't bother to respond. He kept his eyes on hers. There was something so comforting about having her so close. It was more than comforting, truth be told, but he wasn't really willing to dwell on that at the moment.

She must have taken his silence for interest, because she went on. “If we could identify it, then we could possibly counteract it. As it is, Madam Pomfrey seems to think that our only option is to wait it out. She's worried about the effects on your health, of course, but she doesn't think you're in any immediate danger. So, that's something, isn't it?”

He nodded. He wanted her to keep talking. Her voice was sending little tremors through him and her breath drifted across his skin in a way that made his heart, and other body parts, flutter. This realization shook him, so much so that he had to look away for a minute.

It's the potion, he thought desperately. This attraction you're suddenly feeling? Lust. It's just lust. She's attractive, of course, and you're horny and that's why you're thinking this way.

It made him feel slightly better.

He caught sight of the ceiling above him and he frowned. “Where are my curtains?” he muttered, then looked to his left. “Where am I?”

He wasn't in his dorm any longer. He didn't have any memory of having been moved, but Hermione had said that he'd passed out. He shuddered at the thought of being brought through the castle in his present condition.

“We're in Professor Sinistra's quarters. She's going to bunk with Professor McGonagall until this passes. They thought it was best not to leave you in your dorm, given your—“ She motioned helplessly to his body.

Harry sighed. “Professor Sinistra knows?”

“No!” Hermione insisted. “No, we didn't tell her. She thinks you have something contagious, so you're being quarantined here. The only people who know are you, me, Ron, Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey. Oh, and I think Madam Pomfrey consulted a Healer at St. Mungo's. She didn't tell them it was you, though,” Hermione added quickly, seeing the horrified look on Harry's face. “They're being very discreet.”

Harry didn't like the idea of some unknown Healer knowing about any of this, but he was happy to believe Hermione that he remained anonymous. “So what am I supposed to do, then?”

“Just what you've been doing,” Hermione said, wincing. “I know it's uncomfortable for you and I'm sorry that we can't do more just now. Madam Pomfrey thinks the potion will be out of your system soon.”

“There are antidotes, though, aren't there? Can't she just give me a general one—something that would cover all the possible potions?” Harry squirmed under the blankets. The ache in his muscles had worsened while he'd slept and his groin was quite sore from overuse and strain.

Hermione chewed her lip. “That's the thing. There are antidotes, but they're very specific. It's not like love potions, where one fixes all. With these types of potions, you have to know which one you're treating before you can give the antidote safely.”

“Safely?” Harry asked, sighing. “Do I want to know?”

“Probably not. But you should, I suppose. It's better to get the idea out of your head now. It will be easier to understand why she's taking this path as opposed to trying to fix it, I think.”

“All right, then,” Harry muttered. “Why?”

“Well there are—complications when you're given the wrong antidote. It can have several effects, but the two worst are a complete reversal of the engorged state or an actual enhancement of it.”

Harry, like so many times before, had no idea what Hermione was trying to tell him. “Complete reversal. But that's what we want, isn't it?”

“Complete isn't the best word, really. More like—permanent.”

Harry suddenly had the urge to slap his hands protectively over his genitals. “You mean--?”

“Chemical castration. More or less.”

“No. No, let's not risk that one. And if it didn't do that, it could actually make this worse?”

“Yes.”

“Is that possible?”

Hermione blanched. “Yes.”

“Brilliant.”

Hermione hummed in agreement. “So, you're fortunate, really. Well, not fortunate perhaps, but it could be worse. How are you feeling?”

“Better, I think.”

“Has it--?”

He shook his head. “No. But it isn't being quite as demanding as before. And I'm not as knackered.”

“You were asleep for a while. I'm sure that helped.” She blushed, looking away. “You don't feel like you need to--?”

“I do, but it's not as severe as it was.”

“Good. Maybe you should try to sleep a bit more.”

He stretched, his arm brushing hers. The feel of her skin on his caused an immediate reaction. His penis throbbed beneath the sheets and he let out a soft growl. He was only vaguely aware of her voice next to him as he was lost in the renewed stirrings of his hormones.

His condition hadn't abated at all, it seemed. It came back as strong as ever, and with it came images that he never thought he'd have. Hermione, naked, was straddling his hips, moving on top of him in a way that he wasn't sure a human body could move. At least, not at that speed.

His body tensed as though his climax was imminent, but it didn't come right away. He was aching with the need for it, so he completely disregarded the fact that Hermione was still sitting next to him (she'd already seen it, hadn't she?) and wrapped his hand around his erection, pumping it so hard and fast that it actually hurt. The pain was irrelevant when compared to the pleasure of it and he lost control of any thoughts or voluntary movements when his orgasm finally hit.

He must have blacked out again, although he was distinctly aware of the blood rushing through his veins and the breath entering and leaving his lungs. His mind was mercifully blank for several long moments. It couldn't stay that way forever, unfortunately.

The first thought that crossed his mind was disconcerting. He could hear Hermione breathing. Panting actually, his mind amended. His breath had calmed enough that he could recognize that hers hadn't.

It made little sense to him, and he almost dismissed it as being his imagination. He might have if not for the fact that he could still hear it. He blinked his eyes open and looked up at her, feeling his cheeks burn. He'd just let her watch while—no, he couldn't think about that. He was sure to burst into flame if he acknowledged it. He also couldn't allow himself to think about what he'd been imagining while he'd done it. He couldn't and he wouldn't.

He didn't have to. As soon as his eyes fell on her face, all other thought was driven from his head. She was panting. And flushed. And she wasn't looking at his face. Her eyes were directed, unmistakably, to the point where his hand was still holding his still-aroused penis.

Holy shit, he thought. She liked it. She liked watching me… But that couldn't be. It wasn't possible. Surely the potion was making him see things that weren't there. It was coloring his judgment. Still, that didn't change the fact that she was staring at his hand, his cock, with fascination.

“Hermione,” he croaked, his throat burning.

She jumped. It would have been comical to see had she not turned her gaze to his and looked at him with obvious guilt. “Oh!” she said, throwing her hands up to cover her face. “Oh, Harry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to—“ She broke off, climbing quickly off the bed. “I wasn't—I swear I wasn't.”

Harry had no idea what to say to that. Of course she wasn't. Only, she was. If he wasn't certain of that before he saw her reaction, he definitely was now. She had been looking and she was, unless he was very mistaken, aroused.

“Hermione,” he started, not sure at all what he was going to say to her. He didn't have to think of anything, though.

“Oh, you're right, Harry. I was. I don't know why I'm lying about it. It's obvious that I was.” She started to pace beside his bed, her cheeks bright red as she stared at the floor in front of her. “I don't know what came over me. I know it's terrible of me, but I couldn't help it! It caught me by surprise, of course, and I couldn't—But it's natural, isn't it? It's natural to be—curious. And it's natural to be affected by it. It's natural, right?”

Harry didn't even attempt to answer her this time. She was so caught up in what she was saying that he doubted she'd hear him anyway.

“It is. It's perfectly natural. You were doing that right there in front of me, and of course you're very attractive and I'm only human, after all. I shouldn't be surprised that I would react to that, should I? I'd never seen it before—not before today anyway, but I couldn't really watch earlier because Ron was there and that was too awkward to even think about. But Ron wasn't here this time, and it did take me by surprise and I can't be blamed for being curious, can I?”

Harry heard what she was saying, but his mind kept going back to one specific part of her ranting. “…and of course you're very attractive…” He didn't know why his mind stuck so firmly on those words, but it seemed determined to make sure he remembered them.

“I shouldn't be embarrassed. And neither should you!” she added quickly. “It's nothing to be embarrassed about. Obviously, under normal circumstances, that isn't something I would have seen, but these aren't normal circumstances, are they? It's just something that happened and we can't let it bother us. It's completely natural. Completely. OH! You need more water. I'll just go get you some!”

Before Harry's mind had even processed her last few words, Hermione had snatched up the pitcher on the table and was out the door. She didn't come back for half an hour, during which Harry could only lie there thinking about what had just happened. He tried not to think about it, but he quickly realized that if he didn't think about that, then he'd have to think about how Hermione had replaced the dancing girls in his latest fantasies and that was too much for him to consider. It was especially bad considering that he couldn't think about it without thinking about it, and the image did nothing to help the steadily growing ache in his genitals.

By the time she returned, he was squirming again. “Oh, are you all right?” she asked, hurrying over to him and setting the pitcher down on the table beside the bed. “Is it hurting again?”

He nodded, grinding his teeth. “Starting to,” he muttered. “It doesn't seem to be wearing off.”

“It will. It may take a while, though. I don't know how long since I'm not sure what you were given or how much, but these potions are made to last when taken correctly.”

“You told Ron they were only good for two or three—well, you know. I've had several more than that already. Shouldn't it be wearing off already?”

She sighed. “I don't know. There are some that last longer. They're made for endurance as opposed to quantity, if that makes sense. But they're supposed to be activated by stimulation, only. And the -condition should abate between sessions. They're primarily used for honeymoons or as conception aids. And they're more complicated to brew. I doubt anyone here now could do it—or would.”

The term honeymoon seemed to linger in Harry's mind. He quickly tried to brush it away, as it led his thoughts to a secluded beach with he and Hermione rolling around naked in the surf—

“Bugger all,” he moaned.

Hermione blushed, but moved to sit beside him. “There must be something setting this off. It can't be completely random, can it?”

“I don't know, but honestly I couldn't care less at the moment,” Harry groaned, his eyes sliding shut. “I can't take this much longer.”

“It's all right, Harry. It won't be much longer. It has to wear off sometime.” She laid her hand on his arm. “Do you want me to leave you alone? Does it bother you if I'm in here?”

He shook his head, feeling the ache build slowly. “It doesn't make any difference anymore,” he muttered. “Oh, God.”

He couldn't wait for this one to come on its own. It was building too slowly. He'd go mad by the time it finally climaxed if he waited. He moved his hand to have another wank.

His hand stopped immediately and his eyes flew open when he felt Hermione's hand close around his wrist. He looked up to find her watching him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “Could I? I have a theory and it's probably not going to make a difference, but—well, it couldn't hurt, could it?”

“Wh-what?” he stammered.

“Well, I thought maybe if it wasn't you doing it, it might make a difference. It may not help, but if it does—“

She swallowed hard and he could see that she was embarrassed to even be asking. The very idea of it was enough to make his eyes roll back in his head, though, and he had to restrain himself from grabbing her hand and putting it there himself.

“So—can I?”

“Yes,” he hissed. “Yes, please.”

He heard her taking a calming breath, but her hand was firm when it finally wrapped around him. “Is that too hard? Should I hold it more gently?”

He almost laughed. “No. No it's—harder if you like. It won't break.”

She gripped it a bit tighter. “Like this?”

“Oh holy hell,” he moaned. Her hand was smaller than his, softer too, and so warm that he wondered if she'd cast a warming charm on it before she touched him. She moved it slowly and his breath caught at the incredible feeling of it. “Oh, Christ that's amazing,” he sighed.

“Should I get some lotion?” she asked, her hand pausing.

Without thinking, Harry reached down and put his hand over hers. He heard her gasp as he gripped her hand tightly and started moving the two together. “Don't—stop,” he whispered. “Please don't stop.”

She followed his movements, tightening her own grip. His hand fell away as his thoughts gave way to the feelings she was sending through him and the knowledge that it was Hermione who was doing this to him. There was no embarrassment in that thought now. He was even more aroused by the thought of her, to the point that he couldn't stop himself from crying out her name as his orgasm hit with the force of a hurricane.

He didn't pass out this time. He floated along mindlessly for a moment as the tremors ran through him, but he was still awake. And he was suddenly very aware that she was still stroking him. He could feel the slick warmth of his semen on his stomach and hand, between her hand and his erection. He could feel her leg pressed against his thigh, her chest pressed against his arm. Her other hand touched his face and pulled it toward her and she kissed him softly.

It was too much. He came again, harder than ever before, and almost immediately dropped into unconsciousness.

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See? You knew she was eventually going to get “hands on” with him, didn't you? It just had to happen at the right time. :D More to come, as soon as I can get to it!

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Good news and bad news! Don't you just love this game? Good news, I'm going to go ahead and post this, even though I didn't want to just yet. Bad news, I'm going to post it now because my computer is in serious need of a reset and I will most likely have to do that before I can post any more. I'm trying to get it worked out so I can do it very soon and be up and running again before long. So—we'll see how it goes. That shouldn't stop you from reviewing though. :D Enjoy!!

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Harry heard her voice long before he was fully awake. He listened to her talk, knowing that he wasn't fully processing what she was saying.

“Did I make it worse? I thought it might help, but—“

“You didn't make it worse, no,” another voice answered. Madam Pomfrey, he thought, though he couldn't be sure. “There's nothing that can make it worse.”

“But he didn't react like that before.”

“That's nothing to do with the potion, dear,” the woman laughed.

“If it's based on stimulation, though—“

“It would be based on any stimulation which, for a boy his age, can even be a stiff breeze. You didn't make it worse.”

“Are you sure?”

“I'm very sure. Now, here are the potions I've told you about. This one twice a day, as long as his stomach can handle it. This one every three hours. If he's sleeping, it can be extended to five hours, but no more than that. Make sure he drinks plenty of water and get him to eat if you can. Other than that, just keep doing what you're doing and let me know if you need anything.”

Harry heard the door close and listened to the silence around him. He thought that Hermione had gone out with their guest, but then he heard her. She was flipping through the pages of a book.

“Hermione?” he said, his voice coming out in a rough whisper.

The book clunked to the floor and he felt the bed shift. “I'm here. Are you all right? Do you need anything?”

He shook his head slowly, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over him as he moved. “I'm fine. Was that Madam Pomfrey?”

“Yes. She's brought a few potions that you need to take. Can you sit up for a minute?”

“That depends. What potions are they?”

“One is to keep you from dehydrating so quickly, and the other will give you a bit more energy, just to keep you from losing consciousness so often.” She reached out to put her hand on his shoulder and he flinched. “Harry?” she asked, frowning.

“Sorry,” he muttered, blushing. “It's just that—when you touch me, it makes me need to—“

Her eyes widened. “Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't realize. Can you sit up on your own, then?”

He tried, tensing his stomach muscles in effort. It almost worked. He got halfway up, then flopped back again. “My stomach hurts,” he said, grinding his teeth against the flare of pain that crawled through his body.

“I'm not surprised. You use a lot of muscles during—sexual activity. And you've had more than enough of that, haven't you?” Hermione laughed. “Relax your muscles and don't tense up. It'll be harder to lift dead weight, but you'll just hurt yourself if you try to help.” She slid her hand under his pillow and pulled. With a great deal of effort, she pulled him into a sitting position.

He quickly took the potions from her, careful not to touch her hand as he did, and swallowed them. Neither tasted fantastic, but they weren't horrible either. He felt some of the ache ease from his tired muscles as she laid him back down on the bed. “So I won't pass out if it happens again?”

She shrugged. “You might, I don't know. If you do, it shouldn't last as long.”

“So I get to lie here and wait for the next one?”

“You were doing that anyway. Granted you were asleep before, but that didn't seem to stop it from happening.”

“True,” he said, shifting against the pillows. “You're going to stay here, right?”

“Of course. Where else am I going to go?”

He took comfort in that, and let his eyes fall shut although he wasn't the least bit tired anymore. He'd gotten used to the steady need that was pulsing through him and could almost block it out now, even knowing that it was likely to flare again at any moment.

His mind immediately went back to something Hermione had said before. Of course, you're very attractive. He silently chided himself for holding onto that. She didn't mean it that way. Obviously, she meant it empirically. She thought he was attractive. That didn't mean that she was attracted to him.

She watched you wank. She admitted to being turned-on by watching it, his mind argued. Again, though, that didn't mean anything specific. She could have just as easily been turned on by the act itself, whether he was the one doing it or not.

He had no idea how she felt about him, then. Not really.

She kissed you.

His mind had a point there. He had been pretty out of it at that point, but he distinctly remembered her pressing her lips to his as she'd stroked him to a second orgasm.

And then, there was that. She'd gotten him off. Twice. Of course, she'd said that she wanted to test a theory and, knowing Hermione as he did, he knew that was a possibility. If anyone could approach this situation with a clear and scientific mind, it was Hermione.

“Hermione?”

“Yes?”

He was almost sorry he'd said anything, even before he said it. “Why did you kiss me?”

She was quiet for a long moment, then sighed. “I wanted to. I probably shouldn't have, but—given what I was doing at that moment, it seemed—right.”

What the hell does that mean? He felt affronted for some reason that he couldn't quite understand. “You wanted to?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“The truth?”

“Please.”

She shifted next to him, moving closer, and he could feel the warmth coming from her. “It excited me when I watched you. I don't know why. It might have been because it was something I shouldn't have been seeing, or maybe just because it was the first time I'd ever seen a man aroused. Or—well, I don't know why. That's not the point, though.” Harry thought it was a rather good point, but didn't argue. “The fact is, I was—“

She paused so long that Harry had to laugh. “Horny?”

She scoffed. “Yes, thank you, Harry,” she muttered. “I was—horny. And I wanted to know what it would feel like to kiss you. I wanted to know more than that, actually, but you passed out. Which is a good thing,” she added quickly, “because I don't think that's really the best way to get into that particular situation.”

“So you kissed me because you were horny?”

“Would you stop using that word? It's vulgar. And yes, that's why. Can you blame me? Honestly, you were lying there naked, and my hand was touching you and you were panting and flushed and I couldn't help but notice—“

She trailed off, shifting away from him. “Couldn't help but notice what?”

He opened his eyes to look at her. Her cheeks were rosy and she was chewing her lip frantically. Her gaze flicked from his mouth to his eyes and she smiled tightly. “Your mouth,” she said softly. “I noticed how full your lips are, and they looked so soft. I wanted to know if they were as soft as they looked.”

He felt his heart rate double when he realized that she was leaning toward him. “Oh,” he whispered. “And—are they?”

“Yes.”

Her breath panted against his lips, their faces only inches apart. “Hermione?” he whispered.

“Hmm?”

“Should we—?”

“I don't know,” she sighed, and then her lips were on his. Her hand came up and brushed his cheek and he felt certain that his heart was going to explode. His stomach clenched and he moaned softly.

She pulled back just slightly. “Easy, Harry,” she said, smiling. “Take it slow.”

“I can't,” he whimpered. He could already feel the freight train of his climax coming on.

“Yes, you can. Just relax.” She kissed him again, with more force this time. He reached up and wound his fingers into her hair, desperate to get lost in her. He was glad that his hormones were raging, because they quickly blocked out the little part of his brain that was trying to remind him just who he was kissing.

He wrapped his other arm around her shoulders and pulled her toward him, his deepening need overriding any sense of caution he might have had. He wanted her touching him in any way that he could have it. She reciprocated with a passion of her own.

He was so lost in what was going on that he very nearly missed the knock on the door. Hermione started to pull away, but he couldn't let go of her. His brain was sluggishly trying to make sense of who could possibly be knocking on the door when the only two people in the world were right here on this bed.

“Harry—mmph, Harry, let go.”

He couldn't. Didn't she understand that he couldn't? He was beyond being able to control what he was doing.

“Harry,” she said again, her hands moving to his face. “Let go, just for a minute. All right?”

And then she was out of his arms and he was suddenly very cold and very miserable. “Hermione?” he moaned.

She pulled the blankets over him and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “It's all right. I'll get them to go away, okay? I'll come right back.”

He thumped his head back into the pillows, forcing his eyes open so he could watch her as she left the room. Good God she has a beautiful little arse, he thought, then blushed. He wasn't supposed to be noticing things like that. He wasn't allowed to let himself think that way about her. She was Ron's, and he had Ginny. He and Hermione couldn't happen.

His thoughts seemed remarkably clear for the moment and he took a minute to lift the sheets and peer down at his body. “Oh, God,” he muttered. The skin on and around his genitals was red and irritated, and that was bad. His penis, however, seemed to be slightly less hard than it had been and that was wonderful.

“It's wearing off,” he mumbled. “Oh thank God, it's wearing off.”

That realization was followed immediately by the realization that he had to pee. He didn't have any idea what time it was and, therefore, didn't know when the last time was that he'd gone. His bladder was definitely under strain.

He sat up, his head swimming, and scooted to the edge of the bed. His legs were shaky when he stood, but they seemed strong enough to hold him. He intended to take it slow, but his bladder wasn't going to let him.

Instead, he dashed toward the nearest door, the one opposite the door Hermione had gone out. He let out an urgent whimper when he realized he was in a study. There was no other door, so he turned and started back across the room to the other door. He grabbed the sheet off the bed and hastily wrapped it around him as he went.

This door opened onto a small hallway and he peered down it anxiously, trying to decide which door might be the bathroom. There was only one way to go, however, so he headed that direction. The first door was another bedroom, the second led into what looked like a library.

He was getting so desperate that he was about to start looking for a potted plant to use when he heard Hermione's voice coming from the end of the hall. “Hermione?”

She was quiet for a minute, then called back. “Yes, Harry?”

“Where's the bathroom?”

She appeared at the end of the hall, smiling tightly. “It's right here, but you won't be able to use it in your state.”

Oh shit, he thought. He hadn't thought of that. “I have to go.”

She laughed. “Can you hold it for another minute?”

“No,” he sighed, then shrugged. “I'll try.”

“Just give me one minute.”

She disappeared again and he leaned against the wall, crossing his legs. He didn't know what would happen if his bladder decided to go ahead and let loose, but he didn't like to think about it. Instead, he wondered at the fact that his condition seemed to be, finally, going away. He reached down, a bit self-consciously, and gave his penis a little poke. He immediately wished he hadn't, because it hurt like hell. It didn't, however, bring on the feeling of imminent release.

It had actually softened just a bit more and he was thinking he would possibly be able to take care of business after all. It couldn't hurt to try, at least. He went into the bathroom and pushed the door to before crossing to the toilet.

It was a relief, to say the least, to take care of this particular need. It would have been even better had Hermione not opened the door when he was about halfway through. “Oh! I didn't think you'd be able to go.”

He gaped over his shoulder at her for a second before finding his voice. “Erm, Hermione? I'm sort of—peeing here.”

“Uh huh,” she said, blinking at him.

“Could you—I'll be done in a second, if you can just—“

She blinked again, then laughed. “Oh, Harry. You're just too funny sometimes.” She backed out and shut the door, still laughing. He shook his head and finished up with a blush on his cheeks. He washed up, tied the sheet more tightly around his waist and started back out of the room.

He just had time to register that Hermione was standing just outside the door before a near-crippling wave of lust rolled through him and his knees gave out.

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There you have it. More as soon as is humanly possible. :D

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“Harry!” Hermione cried as his knees buckled, colliding hard with the stone floor. “Are you all right?”

He felt her hand close on his arm and flinched away as his erection started to grow again, quickly and painfully. “Don't touch,” he muttered, bending so he was curled in around his stomach. “Don't, please.”

He heard her let out a soft noise that sounded like a whimper. “What's wrong?”

His stomach and abdomen were aching so much that he could barely catch his breath. “Hurts,” he muttered, sagging onto his side, trying to catch his breath.

Even with his eyes shut, he could feel it when she leaned close to him. “I can levitate you back to your bed, if you'd like,” she said quietly. “You can't lie here on this hard floor.”

He couldn't answer. His body felt like it had diverted all of its stock of blood to his groin, so that he was light-headed even while lying on the floor, and every muscle in his body seemed to burn. To make matters worse, he could feel Hermione nearby. He could hear her soft breathing and smell the sweet scent of her shampoo. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and take her in his arms.

“Maybe I can help him,” another voice said and he forced his eyes open to see Ginny leaning over him as well. She reached for him and, before he had the chance to protest, caught hold of his upper arm.

“Gin--,” he started, but something remarkable happened, rendering him speechless. As her hands closed on his bare skin, his body responded in the exact opposite way he had expected. Instead of increasing his level of arousal, his erection actually started to wane. His once overheated skin seemed to cool at her touch.

She pulled on his arm. “Come on, Harry. I can't carry you.”

He managed to stagger to his feet and she helped him toward the bedroom. After a few steps, though, he had to shake her hands off. His arms had erupted in gooseflesh and he was shivering as though he'd been dunked in ice water.

Hermione was hanging back by the bathroom door, watching him with wide eyes. She blushed as he turned to look at her. “Hermione?” he asked. “Aren't you coming?”

She shook her head, refusing to meet his eyes. “I—no. Ginny, would you mind staying with Harry for a little while? There are some things I need to do.”

Ginny frowned, but nodded. “Of course. Come on, Harry.”

“Hermione?” Harry said again, but she turned away, disappearing into the sitting room.

He followed Ginny into the bedroom and crawled into the bed, already feeling rather worn again. Ginny tried to help him with the covers, but he didn't want her to touch him again. Something about the idea seemed to repulse him.

He settled himself under the blankets and stretched out, his back to her. “Do you need anything?”

He shook his head. “No, but thank you.”

She settled into the chair that Hermione had vacated. “If you do, just let me know.”

“All right.”

They both fell quiet and he shut his eyes, hoping to fall asleep again. Just as he was starting to doze off, Ginny spoke. “What do you think was bothering Hermione?”

Harry shrugged. “I don't know.”

“You must have some idea.”

“Not really.”

“You aren't just sick, are you?”

Harry didn't want to answer that question. He really didn't want to tell Ginny what was going on. In fact, he didn't really want to be talking to her at all.

This reaction surprised him. He liked Ginny. There had been a time, not so long ago, when he'd even been in love with her. Now, quite suddenly, he felt distinctly irritated just having her around. Too tired to contemplate that at the moment, he settled on trying to evade her question.

“I'm fine,” he said quietly. “I'm just really tired.”

She wouldn't be deterred. “What's wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

“I heard you a little while ago. You were in here with Hermione and I have a pretty good idea what was going on.”

He felt his cheeks color. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“You were moaning. Both of you were moaning. And when Hermione came out of here, she looked like she'd been wrestling with an octopus. Were you two in bed together?”

He couldn't look at her, but he tried desperately to force some conviction into his tone. “In bed with her? Are you serious?”

“I'm not stupid, Harry. I know what I heard, and what I saw. You're attracted to her.”

He sighed. “It's not what you think.”

She laughed sourly. “Actually, in this case, I think I understand more than you do. I just need to hear it, Harry. Are you attracted to her?”

He swallowed hard, unable to face her. “Yes. But Ginny, it's the potion. It's not—“

He heard her chair scrape on the floor as she stood up. “Get some sleep, Harry,” she said, her tone pained. He looked over to see her hurry out of the room.

That went well, he thought, dropping his head back onto the pillows. He wanted to be able to make sense of what was happening to him, but he couldn't. None of it made sense. Too much had happened, too quickly, and he fought to keep his mind blank until sleep finally took him two hours later.

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Disclaimer: Not mine, but very fun to play with.

I know it's been a long time since I've uploaded anything, and I have no excuse other than that my muse moved to Tibet. Hope you still enjoy it.

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Hermione was sitting beside his bed when he awoke that afternoon. She smiled at him as he blinked his eyes open. “Hello, Harry. How are you feeling?”

He sighed. “Better.”

“That's great.” Her tone wasn't very convincing, though. “Um—I hate to ask you to do this, but I'm curious. Will you hold your hand out toward me?”

Harry frowned, knowing what she was expecting and fearing it at the same time. “Do you think--?”

“I don't know,” she said quietly. “I just think we'd better find out exactly what we're dealing with.”

Harry wasn't sure the experiment was necessary, but he nodded. “All right.”

She reached toward him and he, hesitantly, did the same. He felt it before his arm was stretched all the way. “Damnit,” he whispered.

“How bad is it?”

“Not too bad, but I feel it.”

“So distance makes a noticeable difference.” Hermione chewed her lip. “I've figured out which potion it is.”

“You have?” Harry asked, sitting up quickly.

“Yes.”

“So you can fix it?”

Hermione blushed. “There are no antidotes. Not potions, at least.”

Harry gaped at her. “None? But—“

“You have two options, Harry,” she went on. “The potion is triggered by—by me.” Her blush deepened. “If you stay away from me, it won't affect you.”

“Stay—away?” he frowned. “For how long?”

“For—forever.”

Harry felt his heart sink. “WH—no. No. It won't wear off?”

Hermione shook her head. “No.”

Harry struggled in his mind to think of some way around this. “Just a few feet away, though, right? It's not bothering me as long as you're over there, so I don't have to stay away from you completely?”

“That's fine for now, but most likely if you stay around me at all, the potion will start to affect you anyway. It's possible that it will eventually start to strengthen the attraction and it won't matter what the distance between us is—it will still affect you. But that's just a theory.”

Harry swallowed hard. “But there's another option, right?”

“There is.” She cleared her throat, but her voice was still rather high when she spoke. “The potion is—activated by me, and only me. If you and I were—“ She broke off, twisting her hands in her lap. “If you and I were—intimate, the potion should relax its effects.”

Harry stared at her. “Intimate?” he squeaked. “More intimate than we already have been, you mean?”

Hermione nodded.

“What the hell kind of potion is this?” he demanded.

Hermione's lips tightened into a thin line. “It's a supposed love potion, but that's just how they sell it. It's actually more like an aphrodisiac, hence your current state. There are several theories on how it chooses who it `attaches' itself to, but it somehow chose me.”

Harry frowned. “It chose you—or I did?”

“Depends on which theory you believe,” Hermione said quickly, “but for whatever reason, it chose me and you have to decide what you want to do.”

“I do?” Harry asked, bemused. “I think you should have some say in it as well.”

She looked away. “I'm willing to do anything it takes to help you.”

Harry could barely think. She would—anything? Anything? If he wanted to—she would? His cock started to rise up in acceptance of her offer, but his mind wasn't quite so ready. “Hermione?”

“Yes?”

“Which do you think I should do?”

She hesitated, then sighed. “I'm not a good one to ask, Harry. I'm biased.”

“Toward which one?”

“The—latter. I don't want to have to stay away from you. I want this to go away. I don't want you to be saddled with it for the rest of your life. And—“ she squared her shoulders and looked straight into his eyes, “I want to know what it's like to be with you.”

Harry's mouth dropped open and, while part of him realized that he must look like a complete git, he didn't bother to close it. “You—you do?”

“I do.”

“So if I asked, you would?”

“In a heartbeat.”

Harry moaned softly. “Oh God.”

“Is it bothering you again?” Hermione asked, leaning forward and eyeing him with concern.

“You just said you would sleep with me, Hermione. What do you expect?”

She laughed. “How bad is it?”

“It's noticeable.”

Hermione chewed her lip in a way that made Harry's heart thump unsteadily. She looked calculating, but also nervous. “Which do you choose, Harry?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

“I do. I want to hear the answer.”

He could barely make the words come out. “I want to—sleep with you. If you're sure that's what you want.”

“I'm positive,” she said firmly, though her cheeks colored again. “I need to get something first, all right. Can you wait for me?”

His eyes widened as his mind slowed to a stop. “We're going to do it now?”

She stopped halfway to the door. “Didn't you want to? I thought we should do it soon so you won't have to suffer through this anymore.”

“Right.”

“Harry?”

He shook his head. “It's nothing. I'm just—I'm nervous, I guess.”

Hermione laughed softly. “I would expect you to be. I am as well. But we'll make it work.”

He could only nod. His mind has started up again, and was already running away with him. As clinical as Hermione made it sound, he couldn't help but acknowledge the truth of it. He was about to have sex for the first time in his life and it was going to be with Hermione. Hermione, whom he had never allowed himself to think about in that way, whom he'd only recently realized might possibly have feelings for him, was about to get into his bed. “Oh dear God,” he whispered, feeling the heat begin to surge through his body.

She came back a few minutes later and gave him a shy smile as she moved to the table beside his bed. “I had to get a contraceptive potion,” she explained. “I don't think you'd be comfortable with a Durex at this point, and we have to use something, so I snuck some out of Lavender's stock.” She set a bottle on the table and poured him another glass of water. “I've locked the main door and left a note saying that we—or you, rather—shouldn't be disturbed for a while so I hope that will keep everyone out. I don't know how long we'll need, but there's a house elf that will bring us some food if you feel up to eating in a little while. You haven't eaten nearly enough lately. How is your stomach? Is it still hurting? That potion that Madam Pomfrey sent should have helped with that. If it isn't—“

“Hermione,” Harry cut across her. “You're rambling.”

She stopped, eyes wide. “Am I?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry,” she muttered, sighing. “I do that when I'm nervous.”

“Yeah, I know. We don't have to do this if it makes you too uncomfortable.” He couldn't believe he was saying that, and his mind screamed at him to stop second guessing everything, but he knew he had to say it. He knew he had to be absolutely sure she was ready.

“No,” she said quickly. “No, I want to do this, Harry.” She sighed, sitting down at the foot of his bed. He tried to inconspicuously draw his feet away from her as her nearness caused his body to react almost immediately. “I don't know how to—what to do, though,” she said simply.

He blinked at her. “Well, I think it's fairly simple, really.”

She laughed. “That's not what I mean, Harry. I know how to do it. I know what goes where and all of that. What I don't know is—should we talk about it first? Should we try to make sense of these feelings and thoughts that we're having, or should we just get on with it and let things sort themselves out later?”

He felt his heart skip again. “You're having—feelings?”

She looked at him, frowning. “Yes. Aren't you? Oh, maybe you aren't. I didn't think about that. I guess I just assumed, but it's reasonable that you wouldn't be.”

He had to stop her before she started to ramble again. “I—I might be, I just don't know what feelings you're talking about.”

She gave him a weak smile before looking rather intently at her hands. “Attraction, definitely. I've always known you were handsome, but I never actually thought about it any more than that. As strange as it sounds, the fact that you're a man never really occurred to me. It was just part of the long list of things that you are. You know, brave, kind, hot-headed, good at Quidditch, a man—“ She shrugged. “The thought of—you and I never crossed my mind, until—“

“Until,” he prompted, when she didn't go on. He hadn't ever imagined having this conversation with her, but the revelation was there that she could have been reading his mind. This was how he'd thought of her, only he'd never been able to put it into words.

“Until Defense Against the Dark Arts class,” she finished softly. “Until I felt your—you know. And then it hit me.”

“What?”

Her smile turned a bit wistful. “That you were a man in every sense of the word. That you were as human as everyone else and that you were—a warm-blooded male. And that I had been ignoring just how attractive you actually were.”

“So you are attracted to me?”

“Isn't it obvious?” she asked. “I realize it all came on rather suddenly, but I don't think I've done a brilliant job hiding it. That's why I kissed you, Harry. I kissed you because I wanted to.”

He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again. What was he supposed to say? He was physically attracted to her too, but how he could he be absolutely certain that it wasn't just the potion? What if he told her that he was and, when the potion had worn off, he wasn't?

I can't think straight, he thought, sighing. His body wouldn't let him focus on anything except how much he wanted this to happen.

She was watching him nervously, chewing her lip. Finally, she cleared her throat. “So—should we?”

He started to say yes, and he wanted to, desperately. Instead, he shook his head. “There's—something I should say first. I think you're—beautiful, Hermione. You're beautiful, and you're the brightest person I've ever met in my life, and clever and funny and—I've always known that when I need someone, you'll be there for me.”

She nodded as though expecting him to continue. When he didn't, her eyebrows drew together. “Is that—Is there more?”

He had thought that would be enough. What else did she want him to say? Was he supposed to tell her that he loved her? He couldn't say that. Even if he thought he did, he wasn't sure he could say it. But, a little part of his mind said, you do love her. You love her strength and her courage and her brilliance. You love her smile and the way that she laughs. You love how she comes to watch your Quidditch matches, even though she doesn't like sports. You even love the way she nettles you about homework and studying.

All of that, he knew, could mean he loved her as a friend and not necessarily more, but he did love her. He cleared his throat and hoped that she would understand the sentiment when he said, “I love you, Hermione.”

Her eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed, but she smiled. “I love you too, Harry. I do.”

There was a moment of expectant silence, before he swallowed hard and said, “So—should we?”

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