Ok, this was an idea that came to me out of the blackest depths of the human mind. And it's pretty funny, too!
Just to let you know, this is a story of physical love between a human and a large animate plant. Read at your own risk, and don't come crying to me if you get mentally scarred.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the affiliated characters. Thank gods.
~*~
Harry lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Well, not really at the ceiling, merely at the nothingness in the general direction of ceiling. His staring was interrupted by the soft opening and closing of the door.
Harry peered into the darkness. 'Whompy? Is that you?'
'Yes. It's me.' There was a rustling of branches as the Willow moved hesitantly towards the bed. The leaves sent tiny rushes of air towards Harry, and he shivered ever-so-slightly. 'Harry... I came here tonight to ask something of you...'
'Anything...' breathed Harry, and more rustling told him the Willow had moved even closer to the bed... Harry felt a soft leaf softly caress his cheek.
'Harry...I've wanted something from you for a long time.'
Harry shivered again despite himself. 'What did you want? Name it, and it's yours...'
The Willow withdrew, and even in the darkness Harry could feel how hesitant he was. 'I'd...I'd like...'
Instead of continuing, there was a sudden rustling of branches and Harry felt himself being pressed against the rough trunk. Suddenly Harry knew what it was the Willow wanted...and wanted to grant him it.
The end of a branch trailed sensuously up his spine, causing his breath to hitch as the featherly leaves tickled him. Harry could feel the Willow's breathing quicken as the branch reached his neck and began retracing its journey...downwards...
Harry trailed a soft kiss on the trunk of his one true love just as the blinding pain and ecstasy washed out his world in a flare of white and red. He screamed, his back arching unconsciously as he raggedly gasped out the Willow's name.
'Whompy! Oh, Whompy, Whompy! Yesss, yesss!'
All too soon the world came back to his eyes as the Willow nuzzled him gently. Harry looked up to the Willow and smiled.
'Thank you, Harry.'
'But I didn't really give you anything,' said Harry, his eyes glittering with mischief.
'What?' said the Willow, confused.
'Let me give you something worth thanking me for...'
The next morning, Harry awoke to the peaceful sight of the Willow next to him, deep in slumber, looked as innocent as a newly-sprung sprout, which it was, as Harry now knew quite intimately, not. Still smiling, Harry nudged the Willow awake.
'Still feel like thanking me?'
Although the Willow's reply was not verbal, the answer was an unmistakable affirmative.
END.
