Extensively rewritten! 3/7/2020

ツ The Hospital Wing ツ

If all the young lasses were like diamonds and rubies

. . . I'd be a jeweler . . . and polish their boobies.

ツ

Hermione used fear of the unknown potion as leverage to convince Harry to visit the Hospital Wing, his consequences be damned! The girl could have been lying, hoping that Harry's anticipation of another "broom-closet" tryst, forced though it may have been for the first one, would give her potion all the time it needed to do something horrible. Reluctantly, more because he didn't want to see Madam Pomfrey again than loss of the promised consequences, he agreed. However, they did, make a brief side-trip to the dorms for the pastries, which were good but did only a little to kill their appetites.

The Hospital Wing doors were open. Curtains sectioned off the beds at the far end of the room. They both knew that Justin Finch-Fletchley, Colin Creevey, and poor Mr. Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, were petrified behind the curtains.

"Mr. Potter," said the matron, as she noticed them walking in holding hands, "What brings you here this evening? Not another injury?" She frowned disapprovingly.

"Er, no," said the boy, cowed by the woman's attitude.

Hermione spoke up, "Someone forced Harry to drink a potion and we were hoping you could see if it did anything damaging that we can't see." She gave the Matron a short version of Harry being forced into a broom-closet by an invisible individual who forced him to drink a potion by using a confundus and freezing charm,

"Oh, dear," said Madam Pomfrey hurrying over. "Stand there, please, Mr. Potter," the matron ordered, pointing at a spot on the floor.

Harry rushed over to it and waited. Hermione stood several paces away.

The healer cast a quick spell and studied the results. "Hm. It's been too long since you took the potion, no traces are left in your system. Are you sure it was a potion and not a normal drink?" She looked at Harry questioningly.

Harry shrugged. "She said it was a potion and that it would 'help' me in some manner." He could predict the next question she was about to ask. "I never got a good look at her."

The hospital matron sighed. "Whatever it did is done. However, nothing appears out of the ordinary from any of your previous scans, except you might be tad but taller, but that could be just normal growth. If it did anything, it must be too subtle for this type of scan to detect."

She cast a second spell specifically at his head. A small spot by his left ear glowed, as well as a couple on his robe. "There!" she said with some satisfaction, "Whomever potioned you spilt some when she did it. You did say it was dark, right?" Madam Pomfrey used her wand to siphon up each spot, and dropped each in a separate tiny stasis-charmed bottle a moment later. "I'll have these analyzed, they might not have decayed too much." She looked over at Harry, "This might take a week or so for the staff at St. Mungos to get this done. They have other things to analyze that will take priority, as this doesn't appear to be an immediate threat. They'll at least be able to tell us if contains any slow-acting poisons or other detrimental substances." She stepped back to look at Harry.

"Now then," she said, "if you could tell me more about how this happened and what happened afterwards, I might be able to figure out what it did."

Harry looked at Hermione and she looked back. If he didn't say something, then she would convince him to do so. He sighed dispiritedly. He hated drawing attention, and this story would certainly do that — if only because it involved The-Boy-Who-Lived. His shoulders slumped.

Hermione understood his reluctance, "Harry was told that if he told anyone there would be consequences," she informed Madam Pomfrey. "Could you promise not to tell anyone if no laws were broken?" Maybe that would provide some damage control.

The healer arched an eyebrow and gave them both a long look. "As long as keeping silent does not break my Healers' Vow, then I will tell no one."

Hermione nodded to Harry and cast a quick silence spell around them.

Madam Pomfrey arched her other eyebrow.

"You would be amazed how far one's voice carries in this room," Hermione stated manner-of-factly, "Even when trying to whisper."

The healer nodded in reply. She used that fact to find out what her patients thought she shouldn't know. She wasn't surprised that Hermione had noticed. She was already developing the reputation as the smartest witch in a generation. She would have to keep a close watch on these two whenever Harry was in her care.

Harry explained about his broom-closet adventure, leaving out their 're-enactment' of course.

The healer pressed her lips together, but Hermione suspected she was doing that more to prevent her from smiling than anything else. She sighed. These wizards were so chauvinistic. If Harry had been Harriet, and the pure-blood assaulter a wizard, her reactions would have been decidedly different. Because Harry was a boy, however, well, he had just gotten "lucky" was the common attitude.

At the end, Madam Pomfrey said, "Sounds like a mild lust potion, although," and here she smirked, "it probably really wasn't needed." She frowned, "But, on the off chance she did have something else in mind . . . ." The matron began a long incantation with rather complicated wand movements. She studied the patterns and swirls that resulted.

"Hmm. Nothing appears to have effected your magic." She studied the 'charts' a bit longer. "And there don't appear to be any detrimental changes to your body — no muscle or bone deterioration, no changes in nerves. Brain functions appear okay except for a slight elevation in libido, which could be just from the incident itself. Your fertility appears elevated, but again, that could be because of your activity.

"The potion was either just a one-time acting event, or whatever it changed is too trivial for my scans to pick up. It might have been just a contraceptive potion."

She smiled at them. "Everything seems okay, but just on the off-chance something is well-hidden or has a delayed reaction, I'd like to keep you here overnight, Mr. Potter, for observation."

Harry sighed dejectedly. The last thing he wanted, Hermione could tell, was to spend another night in the Hospital Wing.

"She's right, you know, Harry," Hermione in the most authoritative voice she could manage. She noticed the flash of annoyance in his expression. She put her hands on her hips. "Harry, it's for your own good, you know that," she scolded. "We don't know if there's some kind of delayed action in that potion, it really is a good idea for you to stay here tonight. Please?" She lowered her head slightly and tried to look up at him. Damn. He was shorter than she was, that trick wouldn't work.

"And it's not as if you're actually hurt this time", she added with a smirk. "Besides, tomorrow is Saturday and you don't have to worry about classes!"

He scowled, but reluctantly nodded. Then his stomach growled.

"Oh, yes, you missed dinner didn't you?" the Healer asked.

At their nods she stepped over to the closest bed, tapped her wand on the nearby bedside table, and said, "Dinner for two." A tray appeared on it less than half a minute later. She ushered the two of them over and ordered them to eat as she moved the table so it was in front of the two children.

Hermione blushed slightly as they sat on the bed and smiled to herself. If one were so inclined, Hermione thought, they might consider this to be a date, albeit one with a chaperone. Then she focused on the plate in front of her. The only sounds for several minutes were those of two very hungry children scarfing down their food.

"I wish I could stay here with you," Hermione finally said when her plate was empty except for the desert.

"Me, too, Mia."

"Mia?" She looked at him puzzled and surprised.

"You don't mind if I call you Mia, do you? It's shorter and I think it sounds nice, you know — my Mia?" He was frowning and staring at his plate.

She leaned over and hugged him, kissing him on the neck. "It sounds wonderful!"

The matron hid a smile as she watched from the door to her office. The kids were so cute and innocent when they were this age. Having a girl show interest in Harry would go a long way to shore up his poor self-esteem, at this point. What the Headmaster was doing in not repeatedly telling the students that Harry couldn't be the heir of Slytherin, she didn't understand. Just one firm announcement at dinner would quell a great deal of the suspicions in the school.

Unfortunately, they had no sooner finished their treacle pudding then Madam Pomfrey chased Hermione out, "If you don't leave now you'll end up missing curfew and getting a detention," she said, "And that will mean less time for studying!"

Never let it be said that the Healer didn't know which buttons to push on her patients to get the quickest response! After kissing Harry goodbye, Hermione fairly ran out of the room and down the corridor.

She realized how lucky she was that the matron hadn't asked her why she was walking funny, or that she hadn't cast any diagnostic spells on her. That would have revealed that the unknown Slytherin wasn't the only one to have spent some time with Harry in a broom-closet today. However, that her knickers were soaked with Harry's semen made her feel deliciously naughty as she passed other students in the halls, none of whom would guess her secret.

That she stopped by the library before heading to Gryffindor House was only to be expected of a student of her caliber.

ツ

Hermione hurried to the Hospital Wing, walking fast but not so fast as to risk a detention for running in the halls. She had gotten up early so she could check on the polyjuice potion — which was coming along very nicely, thank you very much — and still have plenty of time to meet Harry for breakfast, but then she had thought what if he didn't come in until eight-thirty and she had been there since seven-thirty, wasting all that time? She hadn't wanted to merely wait for him to show up at breakfast, what if he headed for the dorms instead? Or, what if she was waiting for him in the Common Room when he was waiting for her in the Great Hall? Or even worse, what if he slept late and missed breakfast entirely! This way she could eliminate all the uncertainty. If she were lucky, they could have a little private time before breakfast.

She would have to ask him if he wanted to let everyone else know of their new relationship. Ron wouldn't notice anything unless they directly told him. It would probably come as a shock to him that Hermione was a girl —and he was still at the stage where he wasn't sure what girls were. That might change in a few years, but she doubted it. The boy had the emotional range of a teaspoon!

She had to giggle at the thought, but if they didn't come out and tell him, he'd probably never guess they were a couple unless they actively shagged right in front of him. Even then, he'd probably think it was some new form of exercise for the quidditch team.

Or would the additional attention they would draw upset Harry and drive a wedge between them? This had to handled delicately. When she had him pinned down and fully inserted would probably be best, she decided. He certainly couldn't run away at that point! It would give them plenty of time to explore their options without rushing.

The hospital Wing doors were already open and he was dressed and sitting on his bed as she walked in. Now all she had to do was pry him away from Madam Pomfrey's tight grip.

He saw her as soon as she walked in. She saw his happiness at seeing her, but then he looked away and blushed. That she could tell he was blushing while still twenty feet away said something.

"Good morning!" she declared brightly and went to hug him.

"Uh, yeah, good morning," was his muffled and somewhat guilty response. She was standing between his legs as he sat on the bed, which put his head directly between her breasts. A fact neither of them missed — not that her breasts were all that big, but still, it was the thought that counts, Hermione told herself. Especially as she had deliberately left her bra off. Which she was more than happy to telegraph to him by lightly sliding her chest back and forth so he could feel their lack through her robes. She definitely wanted him thinking about her breasts and not those of that bint from yesterday.

He hesitantly put his arms around her and hugged her back.

What was he feeling guilty about? She stepped back and grabbed his shoulders, staring intently down into his gorgeous green eyes. "What's wrong?" she asked softly.

He looked away and stammered, "N-nothing."

She narrowed her eyes and studied him intently. That was as evasive an answer if she had ever heard one from him. The tone alone clued her into it. His deepening blush merely accented the clue. Plus, he was looking everywhere but at her.

"Spill!"

"Um . . . ," he delayed, looking out the doors.

"Harry!" she prompted, dragging out the 'y' in his name.

She quickly turned as she heard a noise behind her. Someone, not Madam Pomfrey, was coming out of Hospital Wing office. It took only a moment for the bushy-haired girl to recognize the seventh-year intern, Miss Hoarney. The older student smiled brightly at them. It took only a second to recognize she was smiling at Harry, not her. Hermione didn't like the satisfied look the intern was giving to her boyfriend. Nor the barely suppressed smirk she had when she looked at Hermione.

"Well, Mr. Potter," the tall blonde said, "You're all finished in here, you can go have your breakfast." She smiled broadly, eyes sparkling, as if at a private joke. "Madam Pomfrey will let you know if there any problems with your . . . sample."

Hermione frowned at the girl then turned to Harry in time to catch him blushing furiously. Oo-kaay, just what was that about? Yes, something definitely suspicious had happened.

She grabbed Harry's hand and with a huff at the smiling intern, dragged the unprotesting, but still blushing, black-haired boy out of the Hospital Wing.

She kept her silence until they were out of sight of the older student and approaching this corridor's broom-closet. "In here," she ordered, flinging the door open and pushing the boy in front of her. This closet wasn't nearly as large as yesterday's; there was barely room for them to stand without touching.

"Okay, mister, what happened?

"Er, um, well, um," he paused.

She didn't need to see his face in the dark closet to know he was blushing again.

"Spill it!" she ordered.

Bowing to the inevitable that was Hermione on a fact-finding expedition, he cleared his throat, "Madam Pomfrey decided she needed a, uh, a, . . . ," he gulped and half-whispered, ". . . a sperm sample."

She arched her eyebrows, well, that did make sense, considering what they were investigating. Then she smirked. Aw, the poor boy had to wank off knowing someone, a female much older than his mother, was just waiting, probably impatiently, for him to finish. Talk about performance under pressure! How embarrassing! She managed to stifle her laugh. She was going to milk this for all it was worth. She'd never tell anyone, but just remembering would make her smile. Maybe she should see about helping him a bit. It certainly couldn't have been a relaxing experience.

"And?"

"It was embarrassing!" Harry whinged.

She waited a beat, "Well, if that's all it was, I don't think you need to be all that upset about it." She was ready to dismiss it and get on to breakfast. "After all, you aren't the first boy, nor will you be the last, that she has made that sort of request to." Somehow, she managed to keep her humor at the situation from coming across in her voice.

She could hear the boy fidgeting. "Harry?" she said softly.

He sighed, "But it wasn't her," he said resignedly. "Madam Pomfrey had a niece go into labor early this morning, like at six, and called in Miss Hoarney to watch the ward, and told her to get the . . . it just as she left."

That was different! Harry was not a heavy sleeper, so having the two women bustling around the Hospital Wing probably woke him.

"Oh?" Hermione said in that frosty tone that women use just before they lower the boom on some poor quivering male. Clearly, there was more to this story than mere embarrassment. "What happened?"

She could hear him swallow.

"I . . . I . . . couldn't do it," he whispered.

She had to think about that for a moment. She certainly knew he could do it, he had proven that multiple times yesterday, and that was before he did them all again with her! She smiled, getting lost in remembering for a moment.

She shook herself. Pay attention to the here-and-now! she told herself. She asked softly, "What do you mean, Harry? You know you can tell me, I won't laugh at you, not about something like that."

He took another deep breath, "I just couldn't . . . you know . . . finish, knowing that . . . Miss Hoarney . . . was standing outside the door. Waiting, listening to every little noise I made. It was just . . . I just couldn't. I tried, but . . . ."

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry," she said, putting her arms around him and hugging him. She kissed his forehead. "But she said you were finished, so what happened?"

Another deep sigh. "After a while, she knocked on the door and asked if I had a problem."

Hermione could feel the heat of his blush against her neck. "What did you tell her?"

A faint whisper, "When I said I couldn't do it knowing she was there waiting, she said that there was only one thing she could do. . . . I thought she meant she'd just leave me alone and go away for a while, but . . . ."

Hermione had a sinking feeling in her stomach, she remembered that Miss Hoarney was a seventh-year Ravenclaw. Surely she wouldn't? Surely she wasn't another girl looking to put a notch named Harry Potter, the Heir of Slytherin, on her wand? Or was she the witch from yesterday, sensing another opportunity?

There was a long silence.

"Harry?"

Another long silence.

"Harry? What did she do?"

More silence, then a faint, "Nothing. It's not important."

It was Hermione's turn to sigh. He had clammed up. She was going to have to resort to drastic measures if she wanted to discover what had happened. And because Harry was her boyfriend, she was bloody well going to find out what that bint did to him!

"Harry," she started softly, "I know you don't want to talk about it, so you'll just have to show me. Like we did yesterday." She felt herself blushing. She could almost feel his gaze on her, even though it was too dark in the closet to see anything except the small sliver of light around the edges of the door.

She pulled out her wand and cast a silencing charm on the door and wall, so no one would hear anything they said. Then she cast a notice-me-not spell and a locking spell on it as well. As an afterthought, she cast a cushioning charm on the floor of the closet — just in case. Harry listened quietly.

She softly asked, "Okay, Harry, what happened?"

He swallowed, and replied just as softly, "She burst into the bathroom. And there we were. I tried to cover myself, but she rolled her eyes and said, 'Oh, come on, there's no need to do that. You aren't the first boy I've seen naked.' Then she . . . closed the door and stepped real close."

"So," said Hermione, "you were, what, standing? Sitting?"

"Uh," came the hesitant answer, "standing?"

"Like we are in this broom-closet, right?"

"Um, yeah."

"Except you were exposed, right?"

"Yeah," came the breathless and shamed reply.

Hermione started lifting his robes over his head.

"Hermione!" came the slightly panicked response.

"Hush. In order to do a re-enactment, we have to reproduce the conditions as much as possible. I know you find it hard to talk about this stuff,, so this will let you tell me without having to say anything embarrassing."

Remarkably, he did hush and cooperated as she stripped him. Which she took great delight in doing. Being in the dark necessitated a lot of touching and feeling, right? She didn't want to hurt him, after all, did she?

After a bit of pulling and pushing, she had his trousers undone. Being the overly large hand-me-downs from his cousin — she was going to insist Professor McGonagall take her boyfriend on a shopping expedition ASAP! — the moment she undid his belt both his trousers and pants hit the floor. Well, actually, not quite that very instant — she had to help them over a large protuberance that reached well above his belly-button.

Despite her experience the previous day, the size of what she now held in her hand took her breath away. Had it grown overnight?

A week ago, she would have vehemently denied being interested in handling or inspecting such things, all while blushing as red as a Weasley's hair. Three days ago, she would have called them crazy if anyone had asked if she was interested in holding Harry Potter's rather magnificent member — he was her best mate, that's all. And until yesterday, if someone had said she'd be in a broom-closet undressing Harry Potter, and having fun doing it, she would have hexed them six ways to Sunday — the sheer nerve to say such a thing, indeed! And yet, here they were . . . . And she had a very long, very warm part of Harry Potter right in her hot little hands.

She swallowed her suddenly dry mouth. "So . . . you were like this?" she whispered.

"Uh, yeah." And it throbbed, actually throbbed in her hands.

There was a moment of silence. She was extremely aware that Harry was naked below the waist — except for sock and shoes, of course — even though she could see nothing. He was just as aware that his best mate, Hermione, held a pretty important part of his anatomy in her hand. It was making it difficult for him to concentrate, she could tell.

"Then what did she do?"

". . . ."

She added, a bit more emphatically, "Harry?"

"She . . . started . . . you know," he paused, clearly hoping he wouldn't have to say more.

"What?"

". . . helping?"

She wasn't called the smartest witch in their year for nothing. "You mean, like this?" She squeezed. She'd felt him yesterday, but there had been quite a few other things going on at that time. She hadn't actually held him for more than a few moments, only just long enough to place him where she wanted it to go.

This time there were no competing sensations. The contrasting feelings she was getting from her hand were confusing. It felt so hard, yet was so soft and warm. And long, as she discovered, reaching down a bit.

Whatever Harry meant to say came out merely as a squeak.

Must be she guessed right. She would have smirked, but she was too involved in measuring what she held in her hand, or rather hands, now. She cleared her throat, "Um, and did she do this?" The girl slowly started stroking her hands up and down, the tops of her fingers on one hand and the back of the other hand pressed her robes into her groin. The opposite parts of each hand pressed against his bare skin. The groan she got as an answer seemed to be a yes.

She knew the medical terminology was 'contact mutual masturbation,' sometimes called 'manual sex.' The slang was a hand-job. Her mother's romance books mentioned doing it that way, but usually only as a prelude to something else. Her dorm-mates, though . . . .

Some of the older girls gossiped about giving their boyfriends hand-jobs as an alternative to actual sex. They loved to compare techniques. It was amazing how clueless they were about how far their voices would carry down the dormitory corridors — especially when someone was standing just outside the door! She decided to put what she had heard to use.

Based on Harry's inarticulate moans, groans, and gasps, she seemed to doing a good job of transitioning from the theoretical research to practical application. It wasn't long before he started pumping his hips to meet her strokes. She pressed against him, using her toes to lift and drop slightly, rubbing her robe-covered breasts against his chest. Naturally, that rubbed his long dangly bit against her groin — maybe a little lower, too. Next time, she decided, they would do this without her robe between them. The blouse and knickers would have to go, too.

Then he said, through gritted teeth, "If you don't stop, I won't be able to . . . stop."

She stopped moving her hands and reached lower with her right hand, pressing her chest even harder against his. Yes, now that she had had a night to remember, and had the evidence in hand — she snickered — Harry was definitely bigger than what her books had suggested was average. In fact, he might even be in the ninety-nine percentile range, which means bigger than ninety-nine percent of all others. She might even save in the ninety-nine point nine percentile.

And, oh, wow, the dangly bits below his long bit were much bigger than a simple handful, not to mention so soft and warm. She cupped one of them in her hand and rolled it across her palm until the other pushed it off. They were much bigger than the average golf-ball size indicated in her books. She had felt them yesterday bouncing off her arse or belly, depending on who was on top. She liked doing this, she decided. The soft whine he let out just made it all that much better.

Harry suddenly went rigid and she felt the soft bit in her right hand get taut. There was a soft pulse under the fingers of her left hand. Abruptly, the bottom portion of her robes just under her breasts became very wet, and she felt something warm dripping across her hands. Then another pulse, and another, and another. There seemed to be quite a bit of moisture down there, in point of fact. If her knickers hadn't already been wet, Harry's reaction would have soaked them, and then some.

She had been unconsciously rubbing her legs together as she rubbed against her boyfriend. The realization of her success, and what that wet stuff was soaking into her robe, skirt, and knickers, sent her over the edge as well.

If they hadn't been leaning against each other they probably would have ended up on the floor. It took a couple of minutes for them to regain their breath. She still had both hands on him. One bit was slowly getting softer, the other dangly bits she kept massaging lightly with her right hand.

"Well," Hermione finally said, "Was that what she did?"

Harry was quiet before apologetically saying, "Um, no, actually." He was a bit more relaxed, now, she could tell. "She tried that but I was too self-conscious. I mean, I didn't know her, and she was all so . . . clinical about it. Nothing happened. She finally stopped and said, 'Well, that's not going to work.'"

On the one hand, Hermione was pleased she had managed to do something that that bint in the Hospital Wing had failed. On the other hand, she was angry and wondering just what that scrubber had gone on to do.

"Oh?" The frosty tone was back. Neither of them took notice of the incongruity of her tone and the wet stuff dripping off both of them.

Harry said defensively, "Hey it's not my fault she made me too nervous!"

"Well," growled Hermione, "What did she do next?" she gave a squeeze to the longer part she held and something wet dripped against her hand.

He was silent, then quietly said, "She, uh, crouched . . . ."

"Like this?" interrupted Hermione, dropping to her knees. Her abrupt movement and the closeness of the closet had an unintended consequence. Something that was a long, soft-and-hard, wet thing pressed against her cheek. She noticed that there was a salty smell down here. She knew she was holding him, but the distance between her hand and the rubbery soft end was quite a distance, she thought.

Hermione immediately realized what that . . . that bint had done! She had started with a hand-job and when that didn't work, she went to oral sex — a blowjob her roommates and her mother's books had called it. Well, no way was she going to let some random girl get away with doing anything she wouldn't do with her Harry! She opened her mouth and moved that warm and squishy thing into it.

She vaguely heard a gasp from above, but she was more concerned with what was filling her mouth. It had been getting softer, flaccid, the medical books called it, but now it was getting longer and bigger. She kept one hand wrapped around it and against her mouth. Then she started slowly bobbing her head back and forth. It rather filled her mouth. Not that she minded.

She knew, from her readings, that the average length for a male was five-and-a-half inches. Harry was a bit bigger she knew, well, a lot bigger, actually. If she tried to fit all that in her mouth, she would gag and choke on it. Not very pleasant or romantic. Maybe later, after a lot more practice, she thought absentmindedly. Her hands wrapped around it and kept about half the length outside, while making him feel like it was all the way in — a trick she had read in one of her mother's books. A win-win situation.

It seemed to be taking a long time to get results, not that Harry was complaining, unless you considered repeated cries of "Oh, god! Oh, god!" to be complaints. The only difficult part was her breathing, but she quickly established a pattern of breathing through her nose when he pulled back. As fast as he was moving she had two strokes for inhale, then two for exhale. It was actually kind of fun, listening to the sounds he was making and the way he was bumping into the shelves behind him.

Her mouth was starting to get a bit tired when Harry began frantically pumping his hips back and forth. She didn't need to move anymore, she just kept still and let him do the work. She shifted her hands slightly, and used her left hand on his dangly bits to help control his movements so he didn't get too wild.

Unfortunately, she didn't quite make the connection between his sudden franticness and the result until he suddenly cried out, "MIA! Oh, God, MIA!" He slammed his groin into her face, knocking her hand flat against his pubic hair, and the long thing down her throat. She felt a pulse run throb under her left hand's thumb on his bollocks, then a matching throb under her thumb on his long bit. Then she had something warm and wet squirting into her stomach. Unexpectedly, she didn't have the slightest urge to gag. She opened her mouth wide and let her boyfriend go as deep as he wanted.

It almost choked her as it cut off her breathing pattern.

A discussion she had overheard between several fifth-year girls very late one night about the pros and cons of swallowing versus spitting quickly came to mind. Unfortunately, the closeness of the closet and the fact that Harry was leaning forward rather forcefully brought things to head. If she hadn't been otherwise occupied, she would have snickered at the innuendo of that. She was already well past the stage of deciding which she wanted to do. That and a second pulse crossing her thumb gave her only a moment's warning that there was more on the way.

After several pulses, she began to run of breath. She pulled back until it was only his bell end in her mouth, still pumping what his bits were putting out. Her squeezing with her hands maintained the illusion that he was still deep in her mouth. It didn't taste bad, actually. A bit salty, a slight bitter taste followed a moment later by sweet.

Some of those nasty romances her mother kept hidden always seemed to think that swallowing was a good thing, something to look forward to, even. The spitting possibility never seemed to occur to the heroines in those books. They usually went into rhapsodies about how wonderful swallowing was.

Now that he was only in her mouth, she started swallowing. After a few more pulses, she decided to go for broke and started sucking. In for a penny, in for a pound, as her mother always said. Besides, she decided, she could grow to like that particular taste.

Harry jerked back from her, after a moment, gasping, "Enough! Enough! Oh, god! There's nothing left!" He slumped on top of her, just breathing hard.

As his breathing finally approached normal, he said, "God, Mia, are you trying to kill me?" She grinned happily, and wiped her hand across her mouth to clean up some of the excess spit and Harry's leakage. Fellatio was remarkably messy.

It was rather humid in her current position. Both of them had worked up a bit of a sweat since they had entered the broom-closet, and she knew her blouse and knickers were drenched. However, she felt that she had done what she had set out to do. If Harry thought about that 'sample' in the Hospital wing, he'd quickly change to their little tryst in this broom-closet instead. Yes, replace one memory of fun with another that as much, much more fun. Definitely keep him from thinking about others.

Plus, this time, he was in control. Instead of someone else forcing his decisions he could always say, "no" and she knew he knew she would stop.

Hermione smirked as she pulled herself up, using Harry as a support. "Was that what she did?"

She could hear the smile in his voice as he said between gasps, "Oh, yeah. Only not nearly as well. And she stopped as soon as I started to . . . well, you know, and caught it all in a vial for Madam Pomfrey." He chuckled. "She seemed surprised at the quantity."

Hermione could understand that. The normal male, according to the anatomy books, put out only a tablespoon or two. This was closer to half a cup, three or four times as much.

Hermione started straightening her clothes. Mission accomplished! That "not as well" made all the difference to her. Take that you bint! was her only thought as she basked in the glow of success. "Well, then," she said, satisfaction evident in her tone, "I guess we should head on to breakfast. Although I just had a bit of an appetizer . . . ." She giggled.

Harry didn't move or say anything for a moment, then he said, "But there's a bit more . . . ," he whispered hesitantly.

Hermione froze, mind blank for a second.

He took a breath, "She said that I owed her now, that I had gotten her all hot and bothered. That I should return the favor."

"What? That's . . . that's . . . outrageous!" Hermione was just starting to get up a good head of steam when she felt Harry slide down to his knees. A moment later, she felt his hot breath caress her thighs as he lifted her robes and skirt.

On the other hand, she was a bit frustrated, herself. Surprised, she leaned back as he pulled her knees forward. Before she could ask what he was doing, she felt his tongue slide up her leg. She gasped, then blew out her breath as he pulled her knickers to one side and slid his tongue inside her.

It was a partial reprise of yesterday as he brought her to repeated climaxes. Yes. She knew it for a fact, now, his tongue was at least as long as his big dangly bit. Having had them both in the same place, she had a measure of comparison. Although, with what he was doing with his tongue she wasn't that interested in actually doing any measuring. Unless it would keep his tongue where it was for a bit longer.

And when he started hissing she thought she was going to die. She didn't die, of course. She did decide though, that this wouldn't be a bad way to go. She also passed out for a minute, after what must have been her tenth climax. When she awoke it was to the pleasant feeling of something long and hard sliding in and out of where he had just had his wonderful tongue. Everything down there tingled in the most delightful way with his every movement!

She was pinned against the wall behind her.

"Uuhh," she said as he lifted her slightly, going back in. She draped her arms over his shoulders — and quite nice shoulders they were, she decided.

He stopped moving, "I didn't think you'd mind."

"I'll mind if you don't get moving again," she half-growled at him. She lifted her left leg and half-wrapped it around his hips to make it easier for them to enjoy the situation and still keep their balance.

Neither of them thought about much for the next few minutes until she once more started on a series of climaxes that stopped only after he combined his with hers.

They slowly slid down the wall until they were sitting on the floor. Well, Harry was on the floor, Hermione was more in his lap than anywhere else. Neither cared about the distinction — there wasn't enough room for them to sit any further apart.

"So," Hermione said, drawing a random pattern on his chest — she had managed to yank up his robe somewhere along the way, "did you give that girl a . . . personal . . . sample, as well?" She was practically purring in satisfaction.

Somehow, in the midst of their . . . activities, her blouse had come undone and her robe-front was currently riding just below her neck, the rest draped behind her. Harry pretended not to hear her, instead focusing on what his hands were doing to her exposed chest. His breath hot against her neck. She had to concede it was a clever tactic. What he was doing was very distracting.

She knew that meant he was avoiding answering.

She reluctantly pushed his hands down to her lap and held them there. "Well?"

He leaned forward slightly to rest the side of his face on her chest. He sighed. "Yes. She insisted once I finished . . . doing what she had asked. She had noticed that I had . . . um, recovered?

"She said that she couldn't just leave me like that, she wouldn't be able to live with herself later to remember that she had left the Boy-Who-Lived," the last three words were spoken sarcastically, "hanging after he had been so nice to her." He sighed.

"I tried to tell her to stop, but she ignored me. She pushed me to the floor and . . . well . . . got on top of me."

Harry tried to sound regretful, but Hermione knew that any boy, or man, at that point was thinking with his little head and not his big head, as her mother's romance books put it. With the result that that bint had had no problems with getting Harry to happily fill her with as big a sample as she wanted.

Probably the only reason the two of them weren't still going at it in the Hospital Wing bathroom when Hermione arrived was that the bint was supposed to be on duty! The witch knew that she would catch hell from Madam Pomfrey if she wasn't ready to meet and help someone the moment they came in the doors! And, in this school, that could be at any moment.

The bushy-haired girl, her hair now rather damp and stringy, huffed in displeasure. Until she could marry him she would have to fight off the ambitious bints who had eyes on her Harry. Well, none of them knew Harry as she did.

They just wanted to brag to their diaries, or their friends, that they had ridden the Boy-Who-Lived long and hard, and then put him away wet. They wanted the envy of their friends, or just the knowledge of what they had done.

But she knew Harry. The real Harry. She didn't care about the Boy-Who-Lived, she cared about her hero, the boy who had saved her life, the boy who she helped with his homework, the boy who didn't ask for anything in return.

She knew just what to do to keep him by her side. She would just have to keep tight reins on her jealousy. She knew that Harry was an innocent about affairs of the heart and relations between the boys and girls. In fact, until yesterday, he had considered girls as boys with a few extra bumps and curves. She knew that from overhearing, earlier in the year, comments between him and Ron about not understanding the strife between the upper-year boys and girls in their dormitory.

She had seen that strife often enough in grade school and last year here, with girls breaking up with their boyfriends over imagined problems, only to later regret things they had said or done. Or, worse, not understanding that when their boyfriend said he didn't know or understand what they meant, he wasn't being argumentative. He actually really didn't know or understand what he had done to upset his girlfriend. The boys were blindingly oblivious to what the girls thought were clearly visible clues.

To many girls, having their boyfriend ogle another girl or mention how big their chest was — which invariably was bigger than the girlfriend's and made her feel inadequate — was tantamount to cheating. When their boyfriend did this and then claimed not to know what he had done? Unbelievable! The boy was deliberately taunting.

Hermione had never thought she would ever get involved in such shenanigans, but here she was.

He knew nothing of the cut-throat world of girls battling over boys. She couldn't let his ignorance of those issues make her say or do something that would drive him away. Or make him doubt her affections for him. He took everything a girl said at face value, a deadly mistake in relationships. She would have to careful shepherd him along, and forgive his errors with other girls. She knew all about how easy it was to get a boy to fall to temptation; her mother's romance books had clearly demonstrated that. Not to mention her observations her at Hogwarts. The way to keep him by her side was not to ignore any indiscretions he might make, but to show him how she was better than any temptation because she understood him! She could give him anything that the temptress might offer. Besides, she knew how loyal he was to his mates, the thought of betraying one of them would horrify him.

However, he didn't understand the whole boyfriend-girlfriend situation. If girls kept taking advantage of his naivety, she would have her hands full preventing him from being hurt when they abandoned him. She knew an ultimatum to leave the other girls alone would fail. The other girls would simply engineer a situation, and guilt-trip him into complying with them. As had the two witches Friday and this morning.

The problem with ultimatums was that they were final — do this or else! If she gave him an ultimatum and something happened? Would he take that as a failure on his part and leave her because he thought she would no longer like him? That he had failed and must deserve the "or else"? If he took the "or else" path, she would lose him forever.

As far as he was concerned, he was still her best mate. He would guard her life with his, and devote his friendship to her. That sex might be a factor in that, he simply did not understand. As he said, he didn't know what love was.

She would just have to accept that while others might seduce him, he belonged to her and would always return to her. It wasn't his intention to stray, those things just happened. Those others were only interested in the image of the Boy-Who-Lived, not Harry. Each time one of them mentioned that, she would drive Harry back into Hermione's arms — in more ones than one!

When he did succumb to those temptresses, she would have to plainly explain why she was upset and what she wanted him to do to make up for it — besides shagging her senseless at every opportunity.

Then again, his stamina was far too much for any one girl. Maybe she should think about those harem novels her mother had secreted in that one small box on the top shelf in her closet. Just from yesterday and today, he could clearly keep more than one girl satisfied! If he wanted to do it again, she definitely wasn't going to say no! However, she also wouldn't mind handing him off, at this point, to someone else while her legs remembered how to work correctly. That would also give her time to recover her breath!

Which brought up another problem. The last thing she wanted to happen was for Harry to begin looking elsewhere when she was unable to tend to his needs. Like for three days every month! Fellatio, while a nice appetizer, were not enough for Harry. While he could apparently could go for hours, she couldn't! At least not with her mouth. She needed someone she could trust to take care of Harry without trying to steal him away.

In the meantime, however, considering how quickly the bint had acted . . . .

"Wait a minute," Hermione said suspiciously, "Do you think Miss Hoarney was the same girl who attacked you yesterday?"

There was silence, and then Harry said, "No, her breasts are smaller than that other girl's were."

Hermione arched her eyebrow, not that Harry could see it, of course, it was still dark in the closet. "And when did you see Miss Hoarney's breasts?"

Harry gulped, "Well, um, she might have taken off her uniform so she wouldn't get any stains on it while we were on the floor."

"I bet you did more than just look at them, too. Right?"

She could feel his face getting hotter against her breasts. He slipped one hand free of hers and dipped his fingers deeper into her lap. She grabbed his hand, heading off another attempt at distraction.

"Maybe," he whispered.

Maybe, hell! He'd not only played with them he'd probably spent a deal of time with his lips wrapped around them!

"But I like yours better," he added.

"Oh?" Yeah, you'd better back up and fill in the grave you just dug for yourself, she thought. "You like playing with mine better?" she prompted

He pulled his hands from hers and slowly slid them up from her lap to cup her breasts.

"Uh huh. Because your strawberry creams are bigger and belong to the smartest witch in Hogwarts."

"Strawberry creams?" She felt him shrug. She had seen the term many times in her mother's books, but where had Harry picked it up?

"That's what I heard a couple of the older years call them." He chuckled. "Jubblies, thrupney bits, baps . . . I like strawberry creams." He leaned forward and started licking them. "For obvious reason," he said shyly. "And they belong to the smartest witch on Hogwarts, as I said."

Well, that was an unexpected tact to take.

Oh, he was learning. She had to control her jealousy, though. That bint might have a bigger chest than she did, but she had access to Harry anytime she wanted. That bint, didn't! She also knew he really did value her for her brains and not just because of the size of her chest. He'd been praising her brains long before he had a chance at playing with her chest. She kissed him. No reason to let him think she blamed him for acting just like one expected a boy to act. Might just as well expect a kid to ignore candy left on his plate.

Oh, Merlin, she noted, his tongue filled her mouth just as easily as something else just had, but with a lot more room left over to the sides. She shuddered when she felt him lick the back of her throat. She hugged him tighter — just to let him know she didn't hold a grudge against him for playing with Miss Hoarney's chest and other feminine parts.

Cleaning up afterwards was a bit of a hassle. First, there was the lack of maneuvering room. Second was the lack of adequate light. Sure, one used a lumos spell while the other tried to straighten their clothes, but it was kind of like trying to dress by flashlight — the light never seemed to be where you wanted it and the shadows always hid what needed fixing. Third, there was just so much of evidence of what they had been doing. It looked as if someone had dumped a large glass of milk on the floor.

Fortunately, the air freshening charms was the easiest to cast.

They removed the spells on the door and Harry cautiously peeked out. First one way, then opening the door farther to look the other. No one was in sight so they quickly scurried out of the closet and down the hall. At the nearest unused classroom they ducked inside and carefully checked each other over to make sure there were no tell-tale signs of their recent activity, except for flushed faces and silly grins whenever they looked at each other. That Hermione tended to walk with a bit of a limp — it was rather tender in a certain unmentionable area —she didn't mind in the least.

She considered casting the cleaning charm between her legs, but that area was a bit too sensitive after the last two days. Besides, walking around with Harry leaking out of her made her wet. Or, rather, wetter. Her knickers and skirt only served to prevent big wet spots from appearing on her robes.

They were a bit of a bother, actually. She would have to look up a spell to keep a wet spot from appearing on her robes. As soon as she did, she'd start doing like the pure-bloods, and do away with wearing anything under her robes. Going commando, her mother's naughty books had called it.

At the time, she hadn't understood the appeal.

Now she did. Harry could pleasure her at a moment's notice without anything getting in the way.

Harry, Hermione noticed as they headed for the Great Hall, seemed much more relaxed and laid back than he had been in many months. So, that was another mission accomplished. She now had a tactic that would always get him relaxed, no matter how tense he might be.

They managed to make it to breakfast just before the cut-off time. Hermione was disappointed to see that Professor McGonagall had already left. Well, if she wasn't here for lunch, she would be for dinner, and then Hermione could have a few words with her about taking Harry shopping for clothes.

They loaded up their breakfast plates and dug in. Ron stared at the two, clearly perplexed. He could tell something was different, but he hadn't a clue what it was. He shrugged, obviously deciding to put it aside, and instead launched into something that was much more important — Dragomir Gorgovitch, the Chudley Cannons chaser, had been injured in yesterday's game and was going to be out for the next three games!

Farther down the table, Ginny Weasley scowled at the two obviously happy Gryffindors. The fact they had entered the Great Hall holding hands had not escaped her. From her expression alone, Hermione could tell she moved Hermione from the friend category to a competitor!

When the platters started disappearing, they quickly lifted their plates and cups up so they wouldn't vanish as well, and headed out into the Entry Hall to finish eating. Then they adjourned to the library for research on just what that monster was that was terrorizing the school. Ron reluctantly followed them after failing to convince Harry to play chess — after Hermione whispered to Harry that she would reward him later for his efforts.

He didn't seem to care that several students changed direction when they saw him coming towards them down the hall. Nor that several girls ducked into unused classrooms to avoid him.

Hermione had to hide her smile at those stupid witches. None of them bothered to use their brains for anything but gossip.

That practically the whole castle was going home for Christmas meant it was going to be just that much easier for her to protect Harry. And to develop a system of rewards to get him to be a better student. She wasn't going to let Harry barely pass his classes!

ツ

If a certain young laddie were a sword made of steel...

. . . I'd test him all out . . . for weight and for feel.

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