Chapter 8

The Devil's Panties and Harry's Broomstick

"I can't believe," McGonagall seethed to Ron, Kaozi, and Viktor, "That you bought me a thong."

"It'll look great on you. I promise! I have one myself." Ron giggled. "I call them 'The Devil's Panties'!"

"I call them disgusting." She held up the thong, revolved at the red tint, the lace, and the satin lining inside.

"How can you say that?" Ron cried, and patted her arm. His other hand was covering his mouth. "They're so comfy!"

"So what?" she hissed.

"They'll make you look sex-y." Ron said in a singsong voice.

"TWENTY POINTS FROM GRYFINNDOR!" She screeched, her face going red. Her hat fell lopsided.

"Oooh, touchy, aren't we! Is it nerves? I'll get you a cold pack."

"I – DON'T – NEED – A COLD PACK!" McGonagall roared.

"Fiiiiine." Ron said, standing away from her, and butt raping Viktor. "Don't say I didn't try."

"Please remove your finger from in-between Mr. Krum's buttocks, please." She said meekly, her face turning red once again.

"If you say so." Ron agreed glumly, but brightened once he smelled the finger. "Aaaah. There's no smell like fresh ass in the afternoon."

McGonagall gritted her teeth. In five hours, I'll be fucking Harry. I'll focus on that.

Immediately, she felt relaxed. A little smile played on her lips. She could almost hear him screaming.

"I'll catch your snitch Mister Potter…I'll fly your broomstick…" she caught herself muttering. Ron started to grin.

"Is Minnie having a fantasy? I think she is!" He giggled. Kaozi burst into peals of laughter and Viktor chuckled gruffly.

"Shut up. We need to go find Harry." She said quietly. Grinning, the three followed as she led their way to the Quidditch Pitch. She thought of Harry's broomstick all the way there.

Hermione sighed as Draco approached her. She couldn't believe he was pregnant. And she refused to believe that he was happy about it.

"I informed Mum and Dad today." He said, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"And what did they say?" she sighed, not looking away from her firewhiskey.

"Oh, they were positively enthralled. They kept talking about all the different ways to kill me with a curling iron. It was really exciting." She clapped his hands together and sighed.

"Yes…sounds like it." Hermione bit her tongue to keep from laughing.

"Now," Draco said as he sat down. "I wanted to talk about names."

"Oh dear God…" Hermione sighed, banging her head against the book.

"How about Alfonso if it's a boy, and Henrietta if it's a girl?" Draco mused, rubbing his chin.

"Abso-fucking-lutely." Hermione said dryly, just hoping to end the conversation. Unfortunately for her, it didn't stop there.

"Or perhaps Angus. Maybe Bobina?"

"Please, Draco. Stop. I need to get high. I haven't smoked a joint in three hours. Do you know what that does to a person!" she cried frantically, spilling weed in the process. "GODDAMMIT!"

"Fine." He spat. "I'll just name it Bobina then."

"Yeah, you do that." She said.

"I'm in shock." He said in a manner suggesting shock. "I can't believe you'd just leave me like this."

"……."

"Fine. Don't say anything. See if I care." He dashed away, tears streaming down his face.

Meanwhile, at the Quidditch Pitch….

"Just breath." Ron soothed McGonagall when she was finished vomiting. "I'm sure it will be fine."

"Yes." She said, wiping the bile from her chin with her new thong. "Okay. I think I'm ready."

Ron gave her a little shove and off she went. Harry was sitting shirtless, wiping the sweat off his ripped abs and biceps. He was so tan…how did he get that tan?

"Erm….Harry?" she asked timidly, sitting down next to him. His hair was wet. He shook it and looked beautiful.

If I were a guy, McGonagall thought vaguely. I would be so hard right now.

"Yes Professor?" he asked innocently.

"Do you want to fuck – I mean be my boyfriend?" she smiled nervously.

"Sure." He shrugged. "C'mon, let's go to the locker room." He took her hand and dragged her towards it.

"I can't believe this is happening to me." She whispered.

Later, as Kaozi, Ron, and Viktor stood to listen, many shouts could be heard:

"Ten points to Gryfinndor! Oh, oh – Thirty points! TWO THOUSAND POINTS TO GRYFINNDOR!"

The trio nodded as if to say, Our work here is done.