Yes, Irmorena, you are ever so clever. Your assumptions were right. And here we continue.

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Act VI

The Witch's Conflict and Viktor

Hermione

She loved Viktor, some, and had fabulous sex with him; but he was just plain old boring and only talked Quidditch. She was his gold snitch, his term of endearment, and that was as far as he would go. He could never let go and could not behave even a little wild; nevertheless, he was a technically perfect lover, and he knew how to pleasure her; and his manners were impeccable.

However, he wasn't playful, romantic, or spontaneous, and was neither inventive, nor adventurous; his idea of wild was taking the pictures and only because she had begged, stupid, stupid; those damn pictures had been the nails to seal her coffin shut.

With Harry, they could watch cartoons for hours, go to the Muggle movies, and spend a day at the library. At the library, they would eat chocolates and chips, hidden from the librarian. Harry would read Manga and Superhero comic books while she did research. He also read on the Malfoy's history to increase his knowledge on the disliked Death Eater.

True, his studies of the Malfoy's past came in handy, since he was the jokes' mastermind; and they loved to pull practical jokes on the Malfoy. Their goal was to spend hours laughing to a long repertoire of jokes, acquired over the years. They would talk all kinds of nonsense, and things had been great until ten weeks ago.

Bickering was always present, and they used to have a blow out once in a while, but not like this. In this war, somebody was going to get killed. Even Hermione was growing afraid; Harry and Viktor were now bitter enemies; it was turning a shade too dark.

Viktor the Cunning

Viktor was going to get the witch if his life depended on it; he had played a very dirty trick on her. He would not let a measly Potter steal the witch, the one he had planned to make his wife when he settled down, after he retired. He had wanted her the second he saw her, long ago.

He did not want to give up the groupies. Whereas, he might not flirt, he liked the variety, and the glamour of being wanted. He also liked to be adored by several witches at once. Sadly, he also wanted a wife that everyone would envy; and one that would make him randy just looking at her, and only his curly haired Hermione filled that bill.

She had since his eyes had first seen her; yes, he had wanted to have it her, but he knew that British MoM law wasn't forgiving. Besides, his coach had reminded him of how it would affect his future; and then he caught him kissing Hermione and guessed his intentions. Tsk, Tsk.

The Krum males didn't practice fidelity, and their witches supposed to look the other way. He lived in fear that the witch would find out; Hermione wouldn't be the forgiving kind, and he was afraid he actually loved her. No, she would never find out, he had a good front. He had even shagged the interviewing witch, right on her dressing room, and then had laughed on her face when she asked to see him again.

"You vere the one who vanted me, and grabbed my bollocks during interview. So, tell me, vy should I risk my luf for you? My agent told me you shag every other Quidditch player your interview, so don't even try, or your boss finds out. Yes?"

The new casting witch sat there heartbroken; she was neither the first, nor, the last. Viktor had a clear agenda, and he wouldn't stop until he accomplished it, let nobody try to come in between he and his which.

Even sadder was the fact that he didn't know the truth; love was taking a hold of him. Albeit the day would come when he no longer could deny his love for Hermione, and it would be too late. Alas, as some would say, the gods don't punish with a stick or with a whip, they have better ways.

He had played her along for years until he was ready for her. If she would only knew the extent of his deviousness; he had gotten Draco drunk, and had convinced him not to listen to his heart. In Viktor's mind, Malfoy had it coming, because Draco had stolen Hermione from him.

Before getting Draco drunk, Viktor had done some digging around. He had even approached Lucius, and found out his penchant for the golden duo.

Lucius loved celebrity, "I wish Miss Granger would even look at Draco, but there is too much bad blood between them. She is a doll, petite, sinous, and full of sensual energy. You are very lucky that she considered you once. I personally think that she has a secret love; it could be Mr. Potter, they make a powerful couple, you would do well cultivating their friendship, it is a ticket into privileged places."

Once again, Lucius paused and looked far away. His words describing Hermione had Viktor raging, and in the verge of losing his cool.

"I would be willing to overlook her blood, if only she would consider our family; however, Draco is not strong enough for her. Whoever gets her, will have a brilliant future...she is always in the news, and her fame will benefit her chosen partner. Now, if I were free..." Lucius eyes took a dreamy look that made Viktor's blood boil in anger.

Viktor was, both, disgusted and leery. The old snake had a thing for his witch; moreover, he might welcome Hermione into his family, and he knew his way ahead. Viktor had to get rid of Draco once and for all. First find his intentions, and then execute his plan.

"I had my eyes on her since the Yuletide ball." Draco confided, the day when they had met at a bar.

"Who is her?" Viktor asked casually while pouring Draco another glass out the bottle he had ordered.

"My Granger, of course, I love her. I know you were seeing her, and I was so envious." Draco continued his ill timed confession, to his worse enemy, too much firewhisky in a short time.

"It vas just a luf game. I already forgot, I haf many lufs." He smiled a predator's smile; but his eyes burned with murderous intent as Draco bragged. The drunken fool went on, with graphic details, about his love making with the curly hair babe. Poor Draco, he was oblivious of the noose tightening around his neck with each word spilled.

"Did you know that my parents are pushing me to sign a marriage contract with insipid Astoria, she is beautiful and vane, and she repulses me...I am thinking of telling my father that I love someone else." Draco wanted advice, and he asked none other than the Bulgarian devil; thus sealing the worse bargain of his young life.

And knowing Lucius' stand, he couldn't allow Draco to talk to his father. Once Viktor made him see the error of his ways, Draco spilled the real beans. The blond idiot was planning to run away with her.

After Draco's latest revelations, Viktor now knew what to say.

"Draco, your parents vant Pureblood babies, Lucius vould kill you, don't ask him. You only good for Pureblood vife, yes? Granger good, but not for Malfoys. I don't lie, Malfoys need Pureblood. Lucius vants Pureblood babies. He vill take money avay, so don't say anything." Viktor saw Draco paling, and he had only told a few lies.

"I haf good idea, she vill be your mistress. Go ahead and marry Astoria. You and Astoria make Pureblood babies, yes? I am good friend of Malfoys, same club, ve Purebloods stick together...so trust me, I vill arrange it for you. Hermione listens to me, ve go vay back. I vill need some Galleons to make it happen. I am businessman."

The day Draco had come to claim his prize, and it was obvious he was not doing well. He was pale, had not shaved in days, was disheveled, and was an overall mess. Viktor was avoiding him; therefore, Draco had waited for Viktor after one of the games.

Draco was about to find the errors of his ways, "You told me that she would be mine, and to tell my parents that I would marry Astoria. Now the contract is signed and I made an unbreakable vow. You said that no Pureblood should ever marry her, and I believed you." He stood in front of Viktor and grabbed a handful of his robe and shoved him. Viktor stood ground with his arms crossed.

"Now deliver Hermione to me. She was angry, and I am very afraid. I should have followed my heart and gone away with her. What a fool, instead, I listened to you. I paid you a fortune, now you must go and talk to Hermione; I cannot lose her." At Malfoy's ridiculous speech, he had laughed on his face. What could Malfoy do, sue him?

"No, vat I told you, is that you, a Pureblood idiot, shouldn't marry her. I said, "Malfoy vizards are not good enuf for my Granger," she is mine; and she vill be my vife. She vill never be a Malfoy, never. "

Draco had tried to hex him, but Viktor was a better dueler.

Viktor had attended the wedding, with Hermione hanging on his arm, and Harry had gone with Ginny. Viktor kept his eye on Potter, he had heard Lucius. A Krum was vigilant and kept track of his opponents, and Harry could be one.

Viktor winked his eye to the pale groom while Hermione looked radiant dancing with him. He noticed the powerful Malfoy wizards' mournful eyes, and he eyed them with disdain. He held his prize even closer.

He had been planning this for a very long time since had kissed her after the ball. Nobody had ever taken a witch from the house of Krum, they were conquerors. He laughed at Malfoy's anger, and he didn't worry because Malfoy couldn't tell Hermione; not without first disclosing his part.

He was smiling and very happy remembering his latest dark feat. Instead of the normal contraception spell, just right after the fated weekend; he had performed a very powerful fertility spell and did not feel bad at all. He had known about Harry after reading the news after the Malfoy ball. Yes, the news, which foolish Draco had made sure, would reach him even before they were published. He wanted to rub his nose on the mess.

He had been in America playing a game and paid a fine to miss the game; in order to go to London and stop the dirty-dancers. However, Viktor, as all others, had been unable to reach Hermione. Viktor was a warrior, and instead of wasting valuable time being upset, he had planned his next strike, his next tactical move; Krums never lost.

Now, he kept asking her how she was feeling, hoping for a little nausea, you know.

Krum thought he was not in love with Hermione, not at that point, and maybe he wasn't, more with her image and with her fame. He loved her body and to him she was perfection, her curves, her small frame, her soft skin, her untamable curls, her contagious smiles.

He truly adored her golden snitch, it was an obsession, and he fancied it had been made to his cock's specifications. Yes, he was addicted to her body, and to the pleasure he found during their encounters, and no other compared to her. However, he wanted variety, it was the spice of his life; a trait ingrained since the time he was able to understand. Krum wizards didn't love, they took.

Even his sister-in-law, who hated her marriage, had told her, "Hermione, you must stay away from the Krum wizards, they give you all the material things money can buy. Yes, you are rich and have all you want. But their heart is something else, they don't have one, they are too selfish." Hermione had to bring her a handkerchief to dry her tears. She was having a hard time believing this.

"I was blinded by their gold, and no matter what I do to leave, I am stopped. Yes, I am a prisoner for life. Run and marry someone else, and maybe just maybe, you will escape the Krum clutches. To date, nobody has escaped them. They wait in the dark, and take you when least expected."

A little made up song would later come and haunt Hermione, "Run, run as fast as you can. You will catch me; you are Viktor, the Krum-Wizard-Man."

Act VII

Hermione's remembers the Game

Poor Hermione, she was certain a Krum's baby grew inside her womb, and her heart was torn to pieces. Not because she was pregnant, because it probably was Viktor's. She had found the fertility potion in the coffee he served her. It tasted off, and she had it tested.

The reason she was sad, had always been in front of her eyes but she had been too blind to see it; she was, totally, madly in love with Harry J. Potter.

Hermione nostalgically remembered that Valentine's Day, the funniest and most fun day of her life, if not the sexiest.

They had played all kind of silly sex games pretending they were twisted souls. They were laughed and shagged like crazy. They even forgot to eat after Kreacher had abandoned them, but occasionally ate Muggle frozen food. These days Kreacher didn't get up until they were gone, he had taken a page from the furry tenants; their fighting was getting to him.

They had often read of couples that pretended one was a horse, and the other was the groom. They had laughed afterwards so hard her stomach hurt; not because they thought it was wrong, just funny; thus the horse and sheriff story was born. And they played 'Sheriff' several times; yeah, until damn Ron had come in and ruined it all. Yes, they both, Harry and Hermione, internally, blamed Ron for ruining the GAME.

As revenge, they shagged at Ron's doorstep twice after he came home that night; and had pretended to be Ron and Loony; but, they waited for him to be asleep. She hung radishes from her neck and made a crown with antennas made out foil and a charm to make her eyes bug out; Harry painted his face with giant red dots, freckles and charmed his hair color to ginger.

During the two days, they read about all kind of weirdness and had tried most. She logged in the Internet to alternate sites to learn more. They made sex toys out of cardboard and construction paper and painted them with crayons. They beat each other with cooked spaghetti noodles and laughed like crazy. Tied belts across their chests pretending to be dominatrix and master; made paper hats for each costume and didn't charm them to look real, their Muggle roots clearly showed, what fun.

Okay, they were shameless and shagged like sex-maniacs. They both took potions for the pain ensued; naturally, after a while they were raw and nothing would work. Hence, they diligently consulted the Black library and made fast remedies to halt any sort of discomfort.

Why did they do it? First it felt good, and mostly, because it was so much fun and they wanted to keep on going. Strange, Harry told her that he had never been able to do it so many times in a row. It was their powerful magic coming together, but they hadn't known it. It was true L.O.V.E.

Yes, that pesky feeling finally caught up with them; "Oh, Hermione, this is the best. Hold me, just like that. Gods, yes, kiss me, you mouth is lovely... I am not sure what I am feeling...Yes... Come, come my love...I love when you come...oh, yes, I love you…I do, I love you, love you, love you!"

And once the word was out in the open, it stayed.

"Harry, I love you too... say it while we come..., say it. I love, love you…"

After Love made its arrival, Hermione remembered, it all became pure magical fun. They couldn't say it enough, and they easily incorporated Love, the new arrival, into the wild craziness.

They drew their declaration on the walls, on their bodies, on paper, and screamed it during their repeated orgasms; those, they tallied, and had a bet of how many times, how fast, how slow, and how close they were to a target time. They had all kinds of wagers for gold, and she ended up two galleons ahead. She had saved them.

They dressed up like couples they knew, yup Dumbledore and Maggie, a little on the disgusting side, oops. And, she shouldn't forget Lucius and Narcissa, both fussing at each other for mussing each other's hairs while they shagged. And Lucius putting mascara and a little white color around his eyes, bummer, Harry's hair was too short to tie it.

Kreacher arrived home that Saturday at lunch. He had gone to visit relatives and was furious over the mess he found: a trail of melted chocolate, sliced cucumbers, chewed carrots, pasta noodles, etc. Yes, a giant mess, and totally disgusted, he had left for an undefined time.

What did it for the house-elf, was seeing the wayward couple running around naked while they played: Chase the Death Eater. They wore nothing but a skull-shaped-paper mask, and a shawl tied to their necks with a written glowing charm, Death Eater-The Game.

He had mumbled something about "You two is not being proper." And louder, "Nasty wizards and nasty witches, they is bad, playing Knockturn Alley games, bad, dirty and bad. You is catching a nasty illness from playing wicked games. Mating is on bed, doors closed, lights out, not looking, and never with vegetables and foods. You is bad, bad, and Kreacher is afraid to be here." They had laughed at poor Kreacher's sour expression and had paid zero attention.

When he came back, days later, he emptied the kitchen and bought everything fresh. "Lord Potter, I need lots of Galleons, everything be spoiled." Harry raised his eyebrow, but had to control a guffaw. He didn't even argue, what was the point, Kreacher had drawn a line.

The ornery House-elf brought two of his nieces; they worked for an entire day, and with their fingers and mysterious potions they zapped Grimmauld 12 clean; and they carefully went from room to room. During the cleaning, they wore strange socks that cover their entire bodies and clear gloves over their spindly hands. Poor her dear furry friends, they also were thoroughly washed, brushed, and disinfected, "Just in case." Kreacher had mumbled. Hermione smiled at the memory.

One of their favorites had been 'Molly-wobbles' and Arthur's play crib. ' Hermione giggled remembering; Arthur walking around with hard-on, chasing after Molly-wobbles right after delivering a baby; Harry-Arthur catching her in the kitchen, in the loo, over the pretend children's beds, while she cooked for the babies. They made a play for each child, after each imaginary birth...at the end she was Mow-bellyna and he was Arthu-robbles. "Ha, ha, ha," she laughed remembering.

Harry even exorcised his inner demons pretending he was uncle Vernon with his huge gut, wearing an extension in order to get anorexic aunt Petunia pregnant. And Petunia, "Oh Vernon dear, where is your ding-dong, I cannot find it under your tummy." She had to laugh even louder at that memory.

She counted 100 bruises and bites on Harry, she had 99. He won. And Hermione froze right there, a memory was bubbling, trying to rise to the surface of her consciousness.

Wait, wait, wait, when was the last time we casted a contraceptive spell, or did I take the potion? Mmm.

They had not, they totally forgot, the realization brought light back to her eyes. That was it.

The baby could be Harry's. She needed a test. She was so happy that she could cry, of course, and wait, they had pretended… They played a game, of Fleur's saga trying to get pregnant; after all they had heard enough about it," he, he," she laughed remembering, or 'Corking the Veela.'

Harry had made her lie with her legs up on the wall, and had CASTED A SUPER FERTILITY SPELL WHILE HE RECITED INCANTATIONS. He had actually casted a few spells, right from the Black's library.

Afterwards, he had put a champagne cork on her..."He, he." She was laughing joyously, she was happy.

Harry had used his wand, growling like a wolf, annoyed with 'Fleur,' "Stay put Fleur, we already had too much champagne, and if you squirm I'll break the cork," Harry-Bill had said, "and remember that we have to save for the wolf's bane."

Perhaps, they had had too much fun and nobody was allowed to laugh that much. She went into her wardrobe, and pulled out a box. It contained the wig that she had transfigured several times, the cowgirl kerchief, the yarns' horse tail, and a few more mementos from those couple of days, and in a plastic baggie, the cork. She cried and laughed, remembering—

"Guilly amour you take my tempegatuge." And later," Quick, quick cogk me ."

Harry attached a feather duster to Hermione's neck to pretend she was the Veela, and they were at the Burrow eating dinner. "On Guilly my temperature is perfect, excuse us shagging time, we will go into ze washroom."

That had actually happened, and Molly had been upset for days. They had forgotten to put a silencing spell, and they could hear,"the cork, get the cork, get the cork;" Bill had run out asking for either wine or champagne corks, and George had spit out his soup from laughing so hard. Even Arthur was in tears, laughing, but, poor Molly, she ran to her room crying, and you guessed, Arthur had run after her.

George often repeated the story, Bill would laugh and join the crazy naughty laughter, and Fleur would leave, and when he would quit laughing he would say, "Laugh away, Fleur got pregnant, didn't she?"

Goodness, if the trick had worked, she would share the secret with Bill and Fleur. "He, he," she happily laughed again.

X0x

A/N. This is the next to the last part. I had fun, even if the GP was not receptive. It is an exaggeration, but I have read one too many romance novels which exaggerate so much, that I decided to go all the way.

We all need to laugh once in a while.