None of these characters belong to me, and I do not make any money by writing this story.
Writing about hatsex is evidently harder than I imagined. Enjoy! And please review :D
Chapter Three: Making Lemon in Dumbledore's Office
The train had finally reached its destination, and Harry and Ron were pulling their luggage out of the train. Ron was still in awe about what Harry had done; the news about Draco's new vagina had reached both ends of the trains and his hysterical sobbing had been audible to just about everyone. Pansy had tried to comfort him while the others roared in laughter, but she had received another blow on the face for her interference.
"You did that all for me," Ron dreamily repeated for the eleventh time. "You gave Draco Malfoy a vagina, just for me!"
Harry nodded. "Er, yeah Ron, I did it completely for you. That's how much our friendship means to me. Because even though he insulted my parents and my hair...I did that only because of what he said to you," he lied.
Christmas had once again arrived for Ron, and he gave a deep sigh. "My hero..."
"Yes, yes I am. So, you know, remember what I did just for you the next time you catch me...oh I don't know, shagging your sister or something of the sort..." Harry spoke these last words very quickly but Ron seemed not to have heard them. He was too busy hanging up tinsel on the Christmas tree of his mind.
"Harry! Ron!"
Harry turned around to see Hermione scurrying towards them, her nose heavily draped with bandages. "What happened to your nose?" he asked her when she had reached them.
"I gave myself plastic surgery just for you, Ron," she explained. "And look, I even got a new shirt and burned the other one. So now will you stop being mad at me?"
"Are you still a Mudblood?" Ron asked coldly.
Hermione hesitated. "Well, I can't really change my DNA Ron, even if I use magic..."
"Some witch you are," he snapped.
Hermione looked wounded but followed them silently to the castle. Harry filled her in on what had taken place in Draco's compartment. As expected, Hermione was a total Mudblood and did not approve of what Harry had done.
"Well I thought it was brilliant," Ron coldly responded.
Harry agreed with him, and he replayed the scene in his mind over and over again all the way to the castle. On the way, people congratulated him on his fine spell work, which were received by him with a wide grin and Hermione's disapproving scowl.
Hermione was evidently not the only one who opposed Harry's action, as Professor McGonagall was waiting for the trio with an angry expression on her face. "Potter, Professor Dumbledore would like to have a word with you in his office," she spoke sternly, wiping the smirk off Harry's face.
"We'll wait for you in the Great Hall," Hermione whispered as she and Ron left.
Harry gulped as he climbed the stairs to Dumbledore's office. He hadn't anticipated this; he did not want Dumbledore to be angry with him when the school year had barely begun. He mumbled the password and stepped into the professor's office, somewhat ashamed. "Er, you wanted to see me, sir?"
Professor Dumbledore looked up from his desk and put down his quill. He did not look at all pleased to see Harry; but to Harry`s surprise, there was solemnity in his eyes rather than disapproval. "Ah, Harry," he said softly. "Please sit. I have something important to talk to you about."
Harry was slightly confused but he obeyed silently. "I have just received the news that – "
Dumbledore's words were abruptly cut off by a deafening bang from across the hall. Another noise followed; this time one of shattering glass and of various objects crashing to the floor. Harry's head jerked up instantly. Dumbledore seemed irritated at this interruption, but he stood up nonetheless. "I`d better go investigate," he said, looking quite disappointed. "It's probably Peeves again..."
Harry did not say a word as Dumbledore left. He looked around the office in silence, waiting for the professor to return, but five minutes passed and he found himself impatient with boredom. He was starving, and the fact that everybody else was downstairs enjoying the first feast of the year vexed him immensely. Ten minutes passed, then fifteen, twenty...
His stomach growling, Harry left his seat and began to pace around Dumbledore's office. He wasn't too surprised that it was taking Dumbledore this long to return; after all, he was unimaginably old and would probably croak any day now. Harry hoped desperately that now was not the moment that Dumbledore would bite the dust, as it could take hours until his corpse was discovered seeing as everyone was in the Great Hall. Harry could be stuck in the office for ages...
He was still pacing. Dumbledore's office typically interested him, but not today when Harry was so hungry and was dreading whatever punishment was coming to him. He caught a glimpse of a mystical object from the corner of his eye, and he suddenly stopped pacing. It was the Sorting Hat, sitting neatly on top of a bookcase.
Harry had never really taken a deep look at the Sorting Hat. He had never had any particular interest in talking hats, yet there was something special about this hat that greatly interested him. Harry`s thoughts faded from him as he examine the hat closely. It had its own unique character; ragged and faded and yet strong in its own way. It was quite a handsome hat, Harry suddenly decided. Sure, it wasn`t the prettiest hat he had ever seen, but it had its own charm; its own hidden beauty.
With this abrupt appreciation for the Sorting Hat, Harry reached for it and pulled it over his ears. "Hullo, hat," he said in a seductive tone. "It's been awhile, hasn't it?"
The hat chuckled in its sophisticated manner. "Indeed, Mr. Potter. And what are you in here for today?"
"These bloody teachers just don't appreciate the creativity of my spellwork," Harry explained, "Even though it was a brilliant piece of magic. And besides, Malfoy completely had it coming. How dare he accuse me of having split ends!"
The Sorting Hat nodded as if it understood. "Clearly Mr. Malfoy has no idea what he is talking about, as usual. Your hair is well-trimmed and silky; as a matter of fact, you have some of the finest locks I have ever seen..."
Harry was becoming more and more aroused. Suddenly the hat seemed torturously irresistible to him, although he wasn't sure why he was feeling this way. He had never been attracted to hats before, but right now the shabby piece of fabric sitting on his head seemed like the sexiest thing in the world.
Anxious yet excited, Harry coolly responded with a thanks and silence ensued. He wasn't sure what to do now; obviously there was some chemistry between the two, but what could he possibly do? He couldn't think of anything to say to the hat without making a fool of himself, and thus he sat quietly and hoped that the sorting hat would make the first move.
Harry was aware of how stupid he looked, sitting nervously on a stool waiting for a hat to flirt with him. "Well then, if there's nothing else to talk about...perhaps I should put you back on the shelf?"
The hat laughed as if it was mocking him. "What's the matter, Harry? I know what you're thinking. But why are you so nervous? You know that we both want it."
"You know, I've always thought – there's a special connection between us –" Harry mumbled, sweat running down his forehead. "Like you understand me in a way that nobody, not even Ron, can."
"Yes, of course," drawled the hat. And I can fulfill all your needs, ones that none of your friends can satisfy."
This was enough encouragement for Harry. He tore the hat off his head and captured its mouth in a long, delicate kiss. The sensation of torn fabric in his mouth sent shivers up his spine as they caressed each other. Harry had never felt anything like this, nor had he ever imagined that something could make him feel this...euphoric. It was too much, and too cruel to let this stop...
Harry broke apart from the kiss. "We don't have much time," he whispered. "If we're going to do this, we have to do it fast."
The hat nodded as Harry unzipped his pants. Excited, he let his clothes fall to the ground and moved closer to the hat. Taking a deep breath, he plunged into the waiting hat and moaned instantly at the softness and warmth of its hole. He thrust into the hat as hard as he possibly could, desperately hoping to reach his climax before Dumbledore returned.
The hat panted heavily as Harry pushed into it. "Talk dirty to me, Harry," it begged.
"Er, okay," Harry agreed, although he wasn't quite sure how to do this to a hat. "Um..."
Harry increased his pace. "Uh, 100% polyester," he began. The hat moaned in delight. "Yes yes, keep going!"
"Yeah, 100% polyester...and uh, Made in Taiwan."
"Yes, yes!" shrieked the hat.
Harry pushed harder and harder into the hat as he spoke. "Do not machine wash!" he exclaimed, and the hat moaned louder.
"More, more!" it pleaded.
"Do not bleach!" Harry shouted, and their moans grew ever louder.
"I'm almost there!" the hat shrieked.
Finally, with all the energy he could muster, Harry gave one mighty thrust as he roared "DRY CLEAN ONLY!"
It was too much for both of them; Harry instantly poured a vast amount of his juices into the hat, and they both remained still as they savoured this precious ecstasy.
After a moment, Harry quickly pulled himself out of the hat and dressed himself. "That was magical," he whispered, gently stroking the hat.
He froze as the door suddenly threw open. Dumbledore entered, looking pale and grim.
