Harry sat in the Gryffindor common room, twirling his quill carelessly, avoiding the paper he had to write for Transfiguration. Harry couldn't concentrate. His eyes kept drifting to the fireplace, where only a few months ago, Sirius would communicate with him much to Umbridge's disdain. Hermione sat across from Harry reading her Ancient Runes book. But for once, Hermione had trouble focusing on a book. She was worried about Harry. Ever since sixth year, since the war had begun, Harry had been skulking around Hogwarts like the living dead. He had isolated himself from everyone who cared about him, and even seemed to lack the energy to come up with witty comebacks for Malfoy. Whenever Hermione tried to speak to him about Sirius's death or the war, Harry would simply get angry and walk away. But Hermione couldn't help it. Harry was her friend and she had to at least try to get through to him.
"Harry, what are you thinking about? Are you worried about your Transfiguration essay? I could help you, you know," Hermione said hesitantly, chewing on her lip.
"No, that's okay," Harry said in a bored tone.
Hermione waited a few minutes before she worked up the courage to try again. "Harry, I can't imagine what you're going through and I know you said that you don't want to talk about it, it is just that I'm really worried about you. You barely even talk to me or Ron anymore, and when you do, you can hardly say more than two words! We just want to help you get through this. And maybe if you tell us what you're feeling and what's going on, we can!" Hermione exclaimed.
"There's nothing you two can help me with because I'm fine," Harry said, clenching his fists.
"You are not fine! And you shouldn't be, after what you've been through…" Hermione said sadly, her eyes moving to the floor, not being able to make eye contact with Harry.
"Spare me your pity, Hermione. I am so sick of you looking at me like I'm some tortured puppy dog and then sitting me down and trying to get me to talk about my 'feelings'. If you want us to stay friends, you need to stop acting like this," Harry said running his hand through his hair.
"Doing what, Harry? Caring about you? I'm sorry Harry, that's not going to happen. You're not going to shut me out of your life." Hermione said defiantly.
"DON'T YOU GET IT? I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to talk to Ron. Sirius wasn't your godfather and this isn't your war to fight. I'm sick of having to explain myself to you guys all time. This isn't something I want to talk about, don't keep pushing me on this…" Harry warned.
"But Harry, you need to talk to someone about this. Ron said you've been having nightmares again…" Hermione said quietly.
Harry began to laugh loudly. "So what, he's your spy now? Ron keeps tab on crazy Harry for you huh? Who else have you enlisted in your 'Save Harry" campaign?" Harry could feel his entire body becoming enveloped in heat—he had to get out of the common room.
"Harry, you know it's not like that," Hermione said pleadingly.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Whatever, I'm out of here," Harry said packing up his quill and parchment and leaving the Gryffindor common room before Hermione could say another word.
Grabbing his invisibility cloak out of his bag, Harry began to make his way down the stairs. As he reached the main doors of the castle, Harry quickly scanned his surroundings, making sure that no one was around. Seeing no one, he left the castle, feeling relief as he stepped through the wet grass. Before he got to enjoy himself, Harry felt a feeling of despair seep through his skin. Harry shivered—it was an all too familiar feeling. As Harry stood there, suddenly realizing how alone he was, he saw the dementors closing in on him. He looked at them, and counted slowly to five in his head to try to calm his senses enough to allow him to summon his powers and conjure the patronus. Raising his wand, he shouted the command "Expecto Patronum!" and was met only with a thin ray of the silvery patronus. The dementors were advancing, and only swerved slightly away from him at the ray of silvery light. Harry breathed deeply, his palms sweaty, and thrust his powerful wand forward once more.
"Expecto Patonum!" He yelled. Again, his wand only produced a brief flash of light. His patronus was nowhere to be found. Harry looked around nervously, wondering if Ron or Hermione were far off—maybe they knew that the dementors were advancing on him, and had gone for help perhaps. Harry suddenly regretted being so rude to Hermione earlier. He began to feel weak, and still hoping that help was on its way, he sank to his knees. A dementor glided past him on the left, circling him, and Harry was met with painful flashes of his parents—his mother screaming, sobbing, and green light from the night of their death at the hands of Voldemort. Harry's head began to sink, and he summoned his strength to take a deep breath, and again he raised his wand.
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Harry bellowed, calling forth all his remaining power and strength. He swooned and opened his eyes just enough to see a great light shoot out from his mighty wand, and the stag patronus of his dead father, James, come racing out to chase away the dementors. Overcome with the cold and sadness the dementors left him with, Harry passed out alone in the field.
Harry woke up just breaths later. He felt as though he were floating through clouds and before he opened his eyes he was greeted with flashing images of his parents in happier times, smiling and laughing. His father's grin was radiant, just like his—spreading across his perfectly sculpted face, and that handsomely chiseled jawline. Harry focused his mind on his father for just a moment, blinked his eyes open, and saw that he was still basking in the silvery glow produced by his patronus.
The mighty deer stood next to him, looking over him as he lay all alone in the field, since the help that Harry had hoped for had never come. Harry stood up gingerly, and looked at the patronus standing next to him. The stag stood tall, but when Harry stepped closer to it he realized it really wasn't taller than he was… the stag's back reached only up to Harry's chest. Harry continued to look at the magical apparition, and the stag looked back at him, cocking its head. Stepping forward again, Harry reached his hand out gently to see if he could touch the creature. What was this magnificent thing standing before him? Why hadn't the patronus disappeared after the dementors had gone away?
As Harry's hand touched the stag, all his questions were answered. For all the cold and sadness that the dementors brought with them when they attacked, touching the patronus filled Harry with a flood of sensation and excitement unlike any he'd ever felt before. He stood there, captivated, with his hand touching the stag, and feeling the elation wash into every part of his body. The stag nuzzled his head against Harry's chest, and Harry was flood with images of his father laughing and smiling, as happily as ever. Harry breathed deeply and realized that the stag's head had knocked his pants loose, and revealed the enormous erection that Harry had from the wave of sheer elation that swept his body. He knew what to do next.
Sliding his hand along the patronus' back, Harry pressed his growing erection against the stag's side, and noticed that it did not back away. Harry pressed closer against the patronus of his dead father, and felt the stag press against him in return. He slid along the stag's flank, and felt his throbbing cock pass against the magical field of excitement that the stag embodied. Standing directly behind the patronus, Harry entered the stag with his cock, and felt a warmth and stimulation he could imagine coming from any other source. He pounded harder and harder, and the stag's ass contracted around his cock with each thrust. Harry was overcome with images of his father—of James lounging topless in the grass on a sunny day, of James sweaty while playing quidditch for Gryffindor, and of James standing before him wearing only red and gold Gryffindor boxers. His cock was so huge inside the stag, and with each thrust he felt more and more connected to his dead father than ever before. Harry's breathing quickened, his heart raced, and his cock exploded in a fit of ecstasy inside the stag's tight ass. He fell back against the grassy field, collapsing in pleasure after spouting his magic potion inside the patronus of his dead father. As he dosed off on the grass, Harry felt like he was soaking in peace.