Disclaimer. I don't own Harry Potter, nor Hermione Granger. They belong to Warner Brothers and JK Rowling. I did this to honor Harry Potter's Birthday and the creator. Happy Birthday.

High Praise to the Higher Power.

A hug to my home cheerleaders. My Mom and Son.

I would like to give a big thanks to Marc the Unruly and Noppoh, my amazing Betas.

This is a Rated M + 18 story for mature themes and words.

To the Followers and readers, Thanks,

To the troll makers, the ghost (guest) malicious reviewers. Halloween has been here and gone. I still don't feed trolls.

To the rest, please enjoy and leave a review.

Chapter 1.- Birthday wishes and faulty elevators.

Dreamscape.

"Happy Birthday Daddy!" said Lily.

"Blow your candles dad," said Orion.

"Make a wish before though," said John.

Harry smiled at his triplets, being 39 was good, but he wondered if it would get better. He then noticed Lily perform a bit of wild magic. A sphere of light appeared and like a bluebell flame, it hovered near Harry.

"Lily, what is that sphere, dear?"

"It's a birthday wish Daddy make a wish,"

"Okay."

As Harry blew his birthday candles. He longed for new love, the light grew bright, just like the morning sun."

End of Dreamscape.

The morning light hit his face, and he knew he had to wake up soon, otherwise, he would have five children jumping on his bed, whining and moaning and asking for waffles, bacon, sausages, eggs, and orange juice. Plus, there would be a mangy mutt slobbering his face and shedding dog hair on his clean linens.

Harry knew he had to beat the tribe of Lilliputians and the fleabag at their game, abandon his bed and safeguard his personal space. He smiled; he loved being a father.

He yawned and stretched, and felt a hand wrap up his torso followed by a series of soft kisses on his bicep. A groggy yet sweet voice said, "It's too early, go back to sleep, Harry, dear." Harry's eyes opened as though he was on fire.

His sight revealed that, maybe, he was still asleep. In this sweet dream, he found himself next to a gold-skinned woman. Both of them were naked as the day they were born.

The woman was a sight, a beauty that seemed almost regal. Soft honey-colored hair, enormous eyes in a cinnamon shade framed by long lashes, a button nose, perfect pouty, pink lips, and a statuesque figure.

He closed his eyes and smiled. As enticing as this vision was, he needed to wake up. So he pinched himself. Nope, she was real, and now Harry tried to recall the mechanics that landed him in this position. Not that there was anything wrong with waking up next to a gorgeous woman who was using him as a pillow.

The last thing he could remember was being pissed, very pissed, at the idea that some moron contested his brand name.

Flashback.

For the first time, in a long while, he was speechless. Somewhere out there, there was a person, one in particular, trying to make his world a bit more miserable. Yes, the miserable being in this scenario, though, was a lawyer.

An exclusive lawyer in a very expensive office in one of the tallest buildings in Melbourne that kept going on and on about the lawsuits Harry would face if he didn't stop breaking the law and advertising himself with a set of initials that had registered previous to his arrival in the country.

The pompous lawyer ended his spiel by giving a warning to Harry against using HJP as part of his social media and YouTube channel while in Australia because HJP was already a famous beauty firm in the industry.

Harry thought this was a horrible coincidence since HJP was his freaking initials too. He was a world-renowned chef; he traveled said world in his van, along with his five kids and his crew, Tim, Winky, and Paddy, and to everyone else, the world was his oyster.

However, at the moment, a big-shot CEO was throwing a tantrum using money and legal influence while passing the message that this country wasn't big enough to have two HJP's. At the end of the lawyer's speech, they left Harry with a choice, one that he abhorred.

So, after a long wait in the offices of a douche that also was a lawyer, and explaining his credentials and trying to find a silver lining to the stupid coincidence, the lawyer and Harry agreed. The tourist would do the country circuit but would use HP or Harry Potter as his presentation card or he would pay a fine to HJP enterprises.

Harry could hardly disguise his anger, as he stepped out of the office and walked into the elevator. He was so busy fuming that for a second he didn't realize he wasn't alone. There was a woman next to him.

Once he realized he was with someone, he blinked, took a deep calming breath, and focused his attention while looking for something to distract him. He then noticed his shoelaces untied. He nodded to himself and then crouched and tied the strings.

It was then that he looked sideways. The woman's pumps were sexy. However, at first glance, she looked not enticing, no, more like 'expensive'. For starters, her pumps were of Italian design. The slippers had a slight platform that shaped her feet. His eyes began ascending, following a set of perfect smooth legs wrapped in silk stockings. At mid knees, a coal pencil skirt hugged her curvy hips. Her small waist was in a belt and she was wearing a stylish blouse in a shade of pearl. Above the blouse he found the face of a lovely creature; maybe she was a Veela.

The enchanting one was fidgety, her lips in a soft rosy tint were being chewed and then her brown eyes noticed his stare. She blinked, nodded in greeting, and shifted her weight on one leg, and then the other while muttering to herself, "Come on, come on, why can't this thing go any faster?"

Harry realized she was getting a bit pale. He slowly rose and inquired, "Are you okay?"

"What? Oh, um, yeah, as soon as I'm out of this elevator."

It was then that Fate intervened as there was a power outage. The elevator came to a stop, and the woman lost balance. However, before the said woman fell, Harry took hold of her. Only then, he noticed her scent was 'lovely' too.

After a moment, his senses came back, and he realized she was trembling. Crap. He tried to put a space in between himself and the woman but realized she was trying to say something.

He blinked twice and fought the fog in his head as he realized she was leaning against him and apologizing. "I'm sorry. I'm invading your space."

Harry cleared his throat and said, "Believe me, I'm not judging. Now, if you're okay, let's get some help."

She nodded at his idea but remained in his arms. "Uh, Miss, I need to get to the panel."

"I'm sorry, I'm claustrophobic," she replied in a whisper.

"Oh, right, then we will waltz all the way over there. Ready?" He took her hand and gently stepped to the panel, pressed on the button for emergencies, and a distant recording said that the call was important but because of the emergency it was being transferred to the police.

Harry tried not to swear but failed. "Fucking perfect!"

The operator answered, and he relayed the nature of their emergency. A firetruck got dispatched. After hanging up, he noticed she was getting cold and her eyes glazed. She was fainting.

"No, no, no, hey beautiful lady, don't you dare. Look at me. Look at me. We are going to get out of this elevator and you are going to tell your rich husband that he's an idiot for not sticking next to you like Gollum to his precious."

Her laugh was cute. She said, "I'm not married."

"Okay, your boyfriend."

"Nope, no boyfriend either."

"Wow, you're gay? I, uh, I mean, not that there's anything wrong with that."

She laughed again, and Harry realized her laughter was like an aphrodisiac.

She said, "Nope, not gay. I'm a career woman and haven't taken the time to date at all."

"Oh, modeling must be a nightmare if it means you can't date," retorted Harry.

Again, she laughed, "I'm not a model. I'm a chemist and the CEO of my beauty company."

"Ah, that makes sense. You're gorgeous."

"You have a silver tongue. Your wife is a very lucky woman."

Harry closed his eyes and thanked the heavens for this brief interlude. His body was sending all the blood to his nether regions and when the pretty lady mentioned his wife, his body reacted as though they dozed him with a cold water hose. He drew a sideways smile and answered, "I'm not married. My wife passed away three years ago. I keep the ring for personal reasons."

"I'm sorry," said the gorgeous woman. She extended her hand in a formal greeting, "My name is Hermione Puckle, nice to meet you."

"Oh, hello there, I'm Harry, Harry Potter."

"Has anyone ever told you, you have the most beautiful eyes?"

"No. Most often I'm told I look like my father but that I got my mother's eyes. Now she is beautiful, thank you though."

"I feel that I've done it again; I placed my foot on my mouth, that or my brain is numb," added Hermione.

"Not at all. Are you feeling any better?"

"Yes, I feel silly, but thanks for helping through this crisis." She smiled sadly and added, "Everybody believes I'm immune to everything, and I've made certain that no one finds out I have this phobia or know about the incident that led to this behavior. I guess you have leverage on me now." She lowered her head.

"Hey, look at me. I know we've just met Miss Puckle but, if anyone asks, I'll just say that you slapped me after I held you too hard."

Again she giggled and for Harry it became sweet torture, to keep his libido in check, more since her body shifted naturally and she rubbed against his, and damn, it had been years since he found anyone compatible.

In retrospect, being magical had its advantages. Compatible magic was the reason why Mr. Potter wasn't being the world's biggest philandering arse.

Magic kept him in check and acted like a compass that cleared the path. Non-compatibility was the standard. Because of that, he was a very sensible wizard, plus he already had five children from his previous marriage to the lovely Luna Potter. However, this new woman had a gift. She was magnetic and, while under her spell, something feral in him awoke.

Harry tried to put some distance between them, to breathe. However, she did the unthinkable, well unthinkable to him, that is. Hot women that look like fashion models, with lovely soft hair, hard curvaceous bodies, and sweet laughter, only did this in dreams.

"Please, please hold me. I rarely hold anyone except my old pet Crooks, and you feel so good," said she.

"The thing is, Miss Puckle if I keep holding you, I'm going to kiss you, and then you'll really slap me, and then captain Caveman is going to come out to play, and I would have to spank your lovely bum, bite it, kiss it and make you mine. So, you know, can you, can you stop it oh mighty Aphrodite?" Harry pleaded. "I'm only human, hot-blooded and, after three years, undoubtedly horny."

"Three years? Oh, your late wife. I'm sorry, but I refuse. I enjoy hugging you, and, well, I'm an adult, forty years, mind you, and if you spank my bum and promise to kiss it later, I don't mind. Plus, I love your aftershave, the beautiful heat between our bodies, and, oh, the very interesting fact that you're quite impressive down here."

She placed her hand on his manhood, which was halfway up, and then she stared at his eyes and blushed.

"Wow, now you've done it."

He growled into her ear, and then he kissed her. After, the world around him became a hazy whirl of colors. In between flashes, he remembered the elevator doors being ripped open, her hand taking a hold of his hand as she dragged him to her car, kisses, sweet touches, soft breaths, and arriving at a lovely townhouse. After every one of his erotic fantasies starring the brown eye beauty crystallized, in between the haze and reality, he knew he had forgotten something. The next day as she was naked and still holding him, he remembered: he had omitted the 'contraception' spell.

End of flashback.

He released the breath that he unconsciously was holding and did a fertility trace spell. The symbols revealed pregnancy. That, plus he realized Hermione was a witch. Not that there was anything wrong with that, it just made certain that the baby was going to be magical too. He didn't care if she was asleep; he kissed her flat belly, and damn her skin tasted just as sweet as the day before.

More so, since she shifted and added, "Morning. That felt good, more, please?"

"Now, now darling, I have to prepare breakfast for a lovely siren, and then after feeding comes the freshening and after I will give you more, not before, and no, those lovely lips pouting will not sway me."

"But Harry, dear, that beautiful third leg of yours looks to be in pain. I can help."

"Oh, worry not, my loving goddess, I'm used to morning wood. Now, stop distracting me with your witty conversation."

"No fair," pouted Hermione.

Harry put his pants on and added, "Of course it's unfair, but that doesn't mean you won't get your way. Plus Hermione, I think there's something we need to discuss first."

"What is it, Harry?" Asked Hermione as she stretched,

"When were you going to tell me you're a witch?" Asked Harry, while he curled one eyebrow.