Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the intellectual property of JK Rowling, and the fiscal property of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, and Warner Bros. No profit has been made from this work.
"Harry birthday to me..." Hermione slurred, singing in an off-key manor. "Harry birthday to me... Harry birthday dear... me... Harry birthday-"
"To you." Harry said, adjusting his grip on his best friend. Although he wasn't sober by any stretch of the imagination, he wasn't nearly drunk enough to be a danger to himself, unlike a certain bushy-haired girl of his acquaintance... who'd been drooling on him in the taxi home. "Hermione?"
"Mmm?" The brunette grunted.
"Can you stand up?" Harry asked, needing to reach into his pocket for his keys, but not able to do so with a drunk girl in his arms.
"No." Hermione said firmly, tilting her head to the side as she looked at him. "You're so pretty..."
"Thank you." Harry replied, barely able to avoid rolling his eyes. Hermione was a very... fun drunk. She could out-weird Luna on her best days, a fact Harry found endlessly amusing. "Do you feel sick?"
"Feel nothing but good..." Hermione near-sang.
"Good." Harry placed her legs firmly on the ground, before he grabbed an arm, flung it over his shoulder and hefted her up in a fireman's carry. With one arm now free, he could grab his keys and let them into the house. With his hand halfway to the lock, he froze. "Hermione?"
"Hmm?"
"Did you just pinch my bum?"
There was silence for a moment. "No, itsh still there." Hermione replied.
"Good." Harry said, shaking his head. "Get you up to bed, I think. A long sleep will do you the world of good."
"Mmkay."
Finally getting the door open, Harry stepped inside, absently closing the door with his foot. His wand appeared in hand, flicking in a silent summoning charm to the kitchen. A hangover cure flew out of one of the cupboards, landing nearly in Harry's outstretched hand.
Slowly, he climbed the stairs with his inebriated cargo, stopping on the second floor. He opened Hermione's bedroom door, wincing as the utter mess of the room overcame him.
Back in school, Hermione's overwhelming organisation had driven him mad. Her homework was always done on time, her notes neat, tidy and placed in appropriate folders. The first time he'd been to her house, back in the summer after fifth year, he'd been shocked by how messy her bedroom was. Puddles of abandoned underwear, random piles of girly magazines and the kicker; posters of boy bands sloppily stuck to the wall.
Harry didn't consider himself a neatness freak, unlike some he could name (cough Petunia cough), but the warzone that was Hermione's bedroom always shocked him. He made his way across the minefield of dirty knickers, stepping over the dirty sock barricade, before he gently laid Hermione on her bed. He took off her shoes and socks, adding to the barricade, before he pulled the covers over her. He grinned as she let out a high-pitched snore.
With a soft chuckle, he placed the hangover cure on her bedside table, knowing that she'd need it in the morning. "Night, Hermione."
As he was about to navigate the debris, the sound of a throat being cleared grabbed his attention. His wand flashing back to hand, he glanced around the room. "Who's there?" He demanded.
"That would be me." A polite, cultured voice called from the chest of drawers. "Is that you, Mister Potter?"
"It is." Harry confirmed warily. "Who are you?"
"Top drawer." The voice shouted back.
Keeping his guard up, Harry stepped over Hermione's abandoned jeans pile, taking a firm hold of the handle, before yanking the drawer open. "Where are you?"
"Underneath the underwear." The voice replied politely.
Gingerly, Harry moved the piles of underwear to one side (Hermione wears these? Huh... never figured her for a crotchless panties girl...) spotting a bright green... Oh, god...
"Ah, Mister Potter." The vibrator said. "Would you mind turning me over?"
With a slightly trembling hand, Harry took hold of the base of the toy, rolling it over to spot a pair of emerald green eyes. "Hello, there."
"Er... hi?"
"Could I have a word?" The toy asked.
Harry blinked. "Was I drinking absinth and no-one told me?" He asked casually. "I've heard that hallucinations-"
"I'm not a hallucination." The toy interrupted politely. "My name is Mr. Seeker, and I'd like to have a chat with you, Mr. Potter."
"Okay..." Harry just stared.
"Well, wouldn't it be more appropriate for us to have this conversation in a more... comfortable setting?" Mr. Seeker asked, before glancing from side to side. "You may wish, however, to carry me by the base."
Harry flinched slightly as he picked up the toy by the tips of his fingers. "Er... downstairs?"
"That works for me."
Once in the living room, Harry set the toy on the coffee table, making sure the two little eyes were facing him. He couldn't help himself. "So... what are you?"
Even though the toy had no mouth (hell, no face), it somehow managed to look vaguely disappointed at Harry. "I've heard many things about your ignorance, Mr. Potter, but surely you're not that removed from human sexual behaviour?"
"Well... you're a d-dildo."
"So crude." Mr. Seeker said with a sniff. "I'll have you know that I am a fully-functional phallic-replacement device."
"You're a dildo." Harry repeated, a small smile beginning to form on his face. "Hermione has a dildo?"
"Clearly." Mr. Seeker replied. "It is about the Mistress that I wish to speak to you."
"How can you talk?" Harry asked. "I mean... I thought dildos were just supposed to... well, vibrate and stuff."
Mr. Seeker managed to roll his eyes, without any movement. "'Dildos', as you so crudely put it, do nothing of the sort. Vibrators vibrate. 'Dildos' are simply inanimate objects. I, however, am neither of those things. As I stated earlier, I am a fully-functional phallic-replacement device."
"But how do you speak?" Harry asked.
"That would be part of the 'fully-functional' aspect." Mr. Seeker said dryly. "Some people like to hear commentary and other verbal encouragement during their activities, Mr. Potter."
"You do dirty talk?" He couldn't help it; Harry burst out laughing. "Hermione has a dirty-talking vibrator!"
After almost a minute, Mr. Seeker cleared his throat. "Have you quite finished?"
"Not yet!" Harry gasped as he clutched his sides. "Hermione... talking dildo..."
With infinite patience, Mr. Seeker waited for his human conversation partner to stop laughing. This patience was coupled with the fact that the only movement it could make was to wriggle.
Eventually, Harry managed to get his raucous laughter under control. "Sorry..." He said, wiping the tears from his eyes. "God, you're entertaining!"
"I've been told that many times." Mr. Seeker said.
Harry stared at the little toy with newfound interest. "So, how long has Hermione had you?"
"Approximately four years, Mr. Potter. I was a fifteenth birthday present to herself."
"She's had you since she was fifteen?" Harry repeated. "Wow... explains why she calmed down a bit."
"Indeed." Mr. Seeker replied. "But, this is not what I was planning to speak to you about."
"Where did she get you?" Harry asked, not yet ready for a serious discussion with a dildo. "I mean... I've never seen anything like you."
Mr. Seeker sighed. "I am available from most good sexual aid stores, Mr. Potter. The Mistress entered the store, and I was the most compatible object."
"'Compatible'?" Harry asked. "In what way?"
Another sigh. "As each of us are made, we are enchanted. We each have a different magical signature. Mine was the most compatible with the Mistress."
"'The wand chooses the wizard'!" Harry gasped, falling off the couch as he began laughing again. Somehow, though, he knew this wasn't what old Ollivander had in mind when he'd told Harry that all those years ago. The phrase kept bouncing around his mind as he glanced at the phallus, making him keep laughing. He just couldn't help himself.
It took almost ten minutes for the slightly inebriated Harry to gather his wits and sit down on the couch. All the time, Mr. Seeker just sat there, waiting.
"Okay..." Harry said with a gasp, again wiping the tears away. "Let's just... er... well, let's not say that again, shall we?"
"Entirely my pleasure." Mr. Seeker said, sounding slightly grumpy. "Now, I would like to speak about the Mistress."
"Yes." Harry said, trying (and failing) to look serious. "What about Hermione?"
"Are you aware that Mistress is completely, hopelessly in love with you, Mr. Potter?"
"No." Harry said, sounding slightly confused. "She never said anything."
"Who is her favourite seeker?" Mr. Seeker asked. "I was named after you, my good chap. Green eyes, 'Mr. Seeker' as my name... it doesn't take a genius to work it out."
"But..."
"Whenever I make her... complete, she calls out your name, Mr. Potter. I would take it personally, but it's not in my matrix. I also have the ability to mimic certain voices. Yours is the only other voice I have."
"You talk dirty to Hermione... in my voice?" Harry asked, looking faintly revolted.
"I do." Mr. Seeker admitted. "And may I say that your grasp of English is... tenuous, at best?"
"No, you can't say that." Harry said. "And I think that's... wait a minute... why the hell am I arguing with a dildo?"
"It seems you've found your intellectual equal." Mr. Seeker replied dryly. "However, that is not the point of this conversation. Mistress loves you, and as my primary function is to give her pleasure, I don't believe it's outside the realm of my programming to inform you of this."
"So... you want me to make a move on Hermione?" Harry asked. "Won't that put you out of work?"
"I hope so." Mr. Seeker replied. "As I stated, my primary function is to give her pleasure. You would be able to give her more pleasure than I can."
"Er... okay..."
Harry glanced up as he heard a pair of feet slapping the laminate floor outside the living room. Slowly, the door opened, and a barely conscious Hermione appeared. Her bleary eyes glanced around the room, before she spotted Mr. Seeker sitting on the coffee table. "There you are." She slurred, staggering into the living room. "What're you doing down here?"
"I was having a chat." Mr. Seeker answered politely.
"Well, it's bed time." Hermione said as she plucked the toy off the table. "I hope you're fully charged."
"I'm always ready to fulfil my duties, Mistress." Mr. Seeker said proudly, before winking at Harry. "Good night, Mr. Potter."
"Probably not as good as yours." Harry replied with a chuckle. "Night."
Hermione staggered out of the room, cooing to the green phallus. Harry leaned back on the couch, began counting and hoped that he'd be able to contain the side-splitting laugh that was bubbling under the surface.
11 seconds later, Hermione's head reappeared in the doorway, her barely-open eyes glancing at the couch. She spotted Harry, blinked, shrugged and left the room.
"Oh, I can't wait until the morning!" Harry said as he hauled his tired body off the couch.
Hermione woke up with a muffled scream. Her hand automatically went to her crotch, where she took hold of Mr. Seeker and removed him from his unofficial home.
"Oh, god..." She muttered as she moved. The bed was drenched. She'd had the thing in overnight and sweated buckets.
"Good morning, Mistress." Mr. Seeker said tiredly.
"Morning..." Hermione said quietly.
"There is a hangover potion on your bedside table."
Glancing over, Hermione spotted the vial of pink gunk, hastily swallowing to prevent the urge to regurgitate. Knowing that it was better than the alternative, she dropped Mr. Seeker onto the duvet, and grabbed the vial. Cataclysmic doom washed over her for a moment, before the headache and sore stomach went away. She was still badly dehydrated, though.
"Pleasant evening?" Mr. Seeker asked, with a barely concealed yawn.
"I think so..." Hermione said uncertainly. "What about you?"
"Oh, I had a marvellous time." Mr. Seeker replied, and Hermione could hear the grin in his voice, making her smile faintly. "You're so comfortable, Mistress."
Predictably, Hermione blushed, as she did every time her toy complimented her. "T-Thank you."
"Oh, it was my pleasure."
With a chuckle, Hermione plucked the toy off the duvet. "You need a wash." She said quietly. "I don't think you were meant to be used overnight." She stood up, feeling a little light-headed for a moment, before she started for her en-suite. "Hang on a minute..."
"Mistress?"
"Were you downstairs last night?"
"I was."
"Why?"
"I wanted a chat with Mr. Potter."
Hermione's hand flew to her mouth. "You... you had a chat... with Harry?"
"I did."
"Why?"
"There were things we needed to discuss." The toy said airily as Hermione entered the bathroom. She headed to the sink, turning on the tap and placing the toy under the running water. "Cold! Cold!"
"Sorry." Hermione said, switching the taps and beginning to clean Mr. Seeker.
"Oh, that feels so good..." The toy moaned in Harry's voice.
"Stop it..." Hermione scolded the toy lightly, but began to... adjust her grip slightly. She couldn't help it. "Does that feel nice?" She cooed.
"God, Hermione..." Harry's voice again came from the toy. "You've got great hands..."
A knock on her bedroom door made Hermione drop the toy in panic.
"Hermione, you awake yet?"
Blushing brightly, Hermione grabbed her dressing gown from the hook on the wall, and opened the door a crack. "Harry?"
"Morning, Hermione." Harry said. "You up for some breakfast?"
"Y-Yeah..."
"I was so close!" A voice shouted from the bathroom, making Hermione's blush escalate to a full body flush.
Harry chuckled. "I'll leave you two alone, then." The door slammed in his face as Hermione shot off.
An hour later, after Hermione had showered, dressed, brushed her teeth and drank a small lake's worth of water straight from the tap, she headed down to the kitchen, spotting Harry sitting at the table, a cup of coffee and the Prophet in hand. "Morning." He said absently.
Still blushing, Hermione sat down at the table, pouring herself a coffee. "Er..."
"Your toy's quite a character." Harry said, not looking up from the paper. "Very polite, though."
"Harry..." She groaned, just knowing he was gonna tease her about it.
"Hmm?" He looked up, a tiny smirk on his face.
"Bastard." Hermione groused. "It's not my fault he shouted you. He knows better than that."
"He's fascinating. Told me some quite... interesting things."
"O-Oh?"
"Yeah... apparently, you named him after me." Harry put the paper on the table. "According to the little guy, you love me."
"Well..." Hermione took a hasty slurp of her coffee. "I... er..."
"Hermione?"
She sighed. "Well... yes, I do. So what, Harry?"
"So why didn't you tell me?"
"You never seemed interested!" Hermione said. "You had all those girls throwing themselves at you at school!"
"I know." Harry replied casually. "They were all fan-girls, Hermione. You know that. That's why I didn't go out with any of them. None of them were interested in me."
Hermione looked up, her eyes twinkling. "I'm interested in you." She said simply.
"I know that now." Harry replied. "But... Hermione..."
"You don't see me as a sister, do you?" She asked, hoping like hell he didn't.
"I don't know." He replied. "Hermione... for eight years, we've been very close... I don't know."
She stood up, moved round to his spot, and casually reached for his trousers. Harry froze, which actually did her a favour as she unzipped his fly, reached in and took hold of what she found. "Mine now." She said softly.
"Er... Hermione?" He winced as she began tugging, fortunately for Harry, very gently. "What're you doing?"
"Taste test." Hermione said as she straightened up her arm. "Come on, Harry. We're going to go to my bedroom and I'm going to molest you."
Harry stood up, mostly in confusion, but also in self-protection of his most valued possession. "Why?"
"Because I love you." She replied, using her other hand to grab his waist band and begin leading him out of the kitchen. "And I want to."
Obediently, Harry followed her out of the kitchen, up the stairs (which made him very nervous considering where his penis was) and into Hermione's room.
"I'm still here!" A voice shouted from the bathroom.
"Hermione..." Harry groaned, not wanting to deal with the phallic-replacement.
"Hang on." Hermione said, leaning up to kiss him as she released the real Mr. Seeker. She shot off into the bathroom, coming back with the toy. As it passed, the eyes glanced down.
"Oh, good show!" Mr. Seeker praised. "Oh, you're bigger than me, old chap. Enjoy your-" The toy was silenced as Hermione wrapped it in a pair of her knickers and shoved it into the drawer.
"Hermione... I'm not comfortable." Harry said as he watched her shut the drawer.
"Well..." Hermione tugged off her shirt, revealing that she hadn't bothered with a bra when dressing that morning. "Let's see if we can relax you a little, no?"
Harry's last coherent thought of the day vanished as Hermione dropped to her knees in front of him.
"Hello Mr. Real Seeker..." She cooed and she leaned forward...