Disclaimer. Harry Potter and all recognizable characters belong to JK Rowling, Warner Bros, and Scholastic Publishing. In the cover art. The Celt Maiden is by Michael Angelo Longo. The Cat Picture is by Ihor Sichko. The Eye of Horus I found in Google Images. I too found the image of the double helix galaxy on Google images. The story is mine.

A great thanks to the Higher Power.

A Hug to my home team of cheerleaders. My mom and my Son.

I would like to give thanks to The Deathly Minion for humoring me. GoldenEyedFury for cheering me on this silly fluff. To SlytherinSal for voting on the name of this small tale.

This is a rated M+18 story. Language and adult themes.

To the fans and followers my gratitude.

To the Trolls, well, I don't feed trolls, ghost reviews, and haters. There.

Enjoy and leave me a review.

Thanks Madie080802.


Viridiant Heat.

Harry loved his role. He was the male nanny of his youngest daughter the very sharp Miss Emma Helena Potter, now four years and star pupil at Miss Honey's daycare and school. While he took the toddler to kindergarten regularly, he watched the other moms smile and make googly eyes, and he loved it. Sure, he had a very prestigious past as the man who took down an evil wizard, but, at this mundane kindergarten, he was the hottest dad, who was eye candy to everyone including the teachers and headteacher.

It had been now close to sixteen years since Hermione took his name, and they were married. Harry worshiped every minute in between and was proud of how Hermione had risen through the ministry ranks and was now the Prime Minister of Magical Britain, as he remained a glorified domestic partner. She could have the world, he loved to remain in the shadows.

Of course, being the power couple had its downside. Hermione fought for every single change in laws, civil rights for those of mixed race, muggle-borns, and she was a power to be respected. The respect was not easily given, but well earned.

They both laughed one time when they read in the newspapers, the article in which Harry got depicted as a victim, an oppressed partner by the overachiever muggle-born leader, and even he, took on the role of a house-elf.

That night they conceived their firstborn. Malcolm Henry Potter. The next time they argued over vacation places, they conceived Daniel James Black, and after a drunken celebration of reelection, Marguerita Eloise Potter.

The Potters agreed that three children were more than enough. Of course, Harry knew he could have a dozen and his bank account would remain as overflowing as it was. Yes, the Potters were filthy rich, but, that was their secret. Then Emma made her debut, and Harry was ecstatic with his newborn girl.

Teddy Lupin grew along with them and Harry asked what his plans were, did he want to study or live just like his uncle Sirius a bachelor for life? Teddy said that he would think about it, and then he met Victoire Weasley and changed his mind. He went for a muggle degree in medicine and another one as a magical healer. He had credentials in the two worlds and opened a clinic, sponsored by his Godfather Harry and magical Britain, kept their vitriol at bay, because no one talked or write crap, from the Man-Who-Won or his family. Except for the mummy, I mean Rita. Who the Potters tolerated, but, she was the only one allowed. Nowadays, magical Britain rolled their eyes at Rita's articles, much like Xeno Lovegood with the Quibbler, back in the day.

It had been one of those days, and Harry noticed as she greeted her husband with a cold kiss and exhausted "Hello dear, do you have something stronger than tea?" He pulled her into a hug, and for a moment she was stiff, but then returned the gesture and kissed him hard. That was their secret handshake, which reminded her she was safe.

The changes in the magical world moved at sluggish speed and sometimes she seemed more tired carrying the weight of the world, for this bunch of ingrates, today was not the exception.

Harry kept to himself other plans. He recalled his vows, previous to the wedding he had made a promise to be the one backing her up, through thick and thin, just like she had been his rock throughout the war. This was the moment to just listen as she cried tears of frustration and despair for things she could not change. But she was clear, she wanted a better world for her children and every other child who had a magical gift, regardless of their humble or mundane origin.

Harry had gone through rehabilitation. But, if anything he was happy with the person who walked out from that nightmare and shifted into the world's greatest dad, husband, and friend. Hermione knew this and attempted to display her love in small gestures that reminded them they were together. At home, both were very physical and if it wasn't for a certain miss Emma Potter, the two would wear nothing but skin and on top of each other showing nothing but tenderness and love.

Hermione smiled, at how her hubby, loved to show all of her children's pictures, drawings, and projects in special casings and at photo albums, while Emma's painting adorned their fridge. It was funny for Hermione to come to terms with her youngest daughter's love for her father, sometimes displaying feats of raw magic, just to make anyone understand, that it was her daddy, and only she could be near him, except for mommy and her siblings. Emma would grow to be just as scary as Hermione was in her Hogwarts tenure, but opposed to Hermione and Harry, she would develop a strong sense of self-worth and no little worm, would make them feel bad, even if they were called Weasley or Malfoy, that much was clear.

Mrs. Potter also loved how her husband had developed a unique sense of mischief about himself. The man was not bad-looking, but after the war, he gained his typical BMI mass and he began exercising. Filius and Harry began duel training and tutored Hermione, still the more powerful was Harry. With the mentioned above characteristics, the man continued his psychological and psychiatric evaluations, healing and mending the broken parts of his formation and education, revealing a man, that Hermione fell for even further.

Hermione knew Harry kept in shape and helped her, the Prime Minister to take care of her health. He cooked very well-balanced meals and was a perfect listener to all of her woos and pains. Hermione kept him close. But, when he wore his beautiful suits, or those body-clad shirts as he visited her in the office, she understood, he was flirting and wanted attention, and attention he got. She was possessive, loving, and territorial. Witch weekly agreed with the attitude, who could blame her, her husband was the one hunk, that got away from the wizarding world. Alone, the two laughed at the stupid jealousy scenes described on the Daily Prophet, by their old frienemy Rita Skeeter.

Their three older children were all now studying in Hogwarts, and even though everyone was crazy for Hermione, Harry's shadow seemed to weigh on the school and his offspring. Harry agreed to give a demonstration on DADA and pass the baton to Neville, who smiled and challenged him to a wizards duel, it took Neville, Hermione, and Luna to defeat Harry, and the pictures of the duel assured his children and the magical world that the WWWII hero, Harry Potter, was still kicking rears.

That was the night the Potters conceived their fourth child, little miss Emma, and Harry got the hint, that Hermione still loved being seduced by a good old challenge now and then.

Henceforth a new contest got added to their lives. The Potters established the bedroom Olympics.

The two were competitive, Gryffindors, reckless, and makeup sex was brilliant. He lost on the last challenge so Hermione was going to be the one who decided the theme of their next fantasy encounter. Harry hated it because he knew he either would be the slave, the priest, or the gentleman in distress. Opposed to Hermione being the Queen, the Devil, and the Succubus. Oh, he loved her in any shape or form, but Hermione's demands had him half the time going crazy.

However, this time Hermione had a different idea, this time she wanted him to wear eyeliner, and a headpiece, and pretend he was a Pharaoh he had to shave his beard and depilate, she too would depilate, and that gave him the push to comply to the next scenario, while his wife pretended to be a Celt warrior priestess stolen from foreign lands. This was whacked, but hey, Hermione wanted a ruler of ancient Egypt and a seducer, he would do it, hell, he would even wear a mule's hide if it work on the scene, thankfully, it wasn't necessary.

The ancient Minerva, agreed to lend the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts castle, since the two got to demonstrate how to defend against dementors, and recreated the class of DADA from the late Remus Lupin. After, Professor Flitwick asked for a friendly duel with Hermione, and just as Hermione was about to lose, Harry stepped and began defending until the old Professor, conceded the match. To the world, it seemed the action quite put Hermione off, to Harry in change, it looked as though he was enjoying the attention. George Weasley and Draco Malfoy put differences aside, and they threw a challenge, Hermione would judge. Again, Harry swept the floors with the competition, and a wide margin granted him the match.

Minerva watched the couple, and how well the two had aged. Hermione was happy, healthy, and radiant around her loved ones. Gone was the rule obsessive child, in her place, was a beautiful, successful, woman of office that kept a family together.

Harry on his side looked better than ever before in his life. Gone was that small kid with specs and a very serious gaze, looking for the next monster to pop out of nowhere. In its place was a mature, easy-going adult, that adored being just a mate and father. Still, under the surface, Minerva could detect a playful feline, who loved to be surprised by magic. The man continued to hold gravitas in equal parts.

After the curfew, the Potters retired and Minerva McGonagall investigated in her cat form and placed an invisibility spell on her animagus form. After all, it was her Castle.

As the married couple reached the tapestry of the Barnabas the Barmy. Harry began stepping back and forth until an ancient-looking door made its appearance.

Harry turned and said to Hermione, "Ready?"

"I am," replied Hermione.

Harry nodded, took a bottomless bag, and placed it at Hermione's feet. She flicked her hands, and her hairstyle changed to a braided flower, with gold leaves, flowers, her face displayed gold and eyeliner, and her robes shifted into a translucid dress, that hid very little of the fully developed and quite beautiful woman. She rotated her right wrist and perfume as mist, covering Harry, herself, and the undercover animagus.

The animagus noticed the prime minister had beautiful feet, and now she was even more curious about what the hell were the Potters up to.

After changing her clothes, Hermione stepped into the bag, with her hands, and her wrists tied up.

Harry stepped in and closed the door behind him. Minerva was mute at the revelation about the Room of Requirement, it was an ancient palatial party at the Pharaoh's court, in Upper Egypt she noticed the Nile river and all the marvelous boats arriving for a celebration.

Minerva turned and hid in a corner close to the throne, and noticed Harry had changed clothes.

He was wearing gold sandals, naked except for the half-pleated kilt around his waist, and the cat animagus admired how athletic his body was underneath layers, and now, uncovered at how elegant his exposure turned to the soft light of the torches, he added a leopards skin over his shoulder and a lions tail on his belt as a symbol of power. The neme as his headpiece, a scepter, and his eyes adorned with kohl eyeliner, imitating the eyes of god Horus, framing his emerald eyes as jewels gazing over the grand hall. He raised his hand and his body took a golden hue.

Minerva blinked softly in her cat form, which is the equivalent of a smile, she admitted to herself; the man had done his homework; he looked perfect, his clean open face, the color in his skin, his scent, he was powerful, dangerous and she was glad she had a pensieve because she was going to bring a wizarding camera once she went back to the liquid memory, and take pictures of the costume change on both Prime Minister Hermione and now her fascinating husband and she would decide later, what else, as Harry was getting ready to get in character.

The wizard was nervous, but as soon as he took the seat in the throne chair, his demeanor changed. The crowd turned as they acknowledged his presence and the bonfire of vanities, gave way to the exotic ambient, as ancient tunes, food, and perfumed scents, blended with human bodies, all join in the celebration for military victory overseas.

Mr. Potter was in his element, and Minerva marveled, at the performance from her former lion. He kept himself poised just like the snake that adorned his headpiece. Minerva understood Harry was to be conqueror this evening and even his masculine eyeliner was just right, she would remember and would take the memory to write one of the famous romance novels or bodice/rippers, that she so proudly took from Lavender Brown years before. And, that she kept confiscating after all these years. The irony was thick, but it was her secret, just like the same places she took inspiration from, she wasn't the only animagus with a curious sight and a vivid quick quotes quill. Still, that was not important at the moment, as she took a comfortable position in one of the building's corners and kept vigilant on tonight's agenda.

Minerva observed as dignitaries from all ancient and forgotten countries made their entry and saluted, bringing more gifts from afar.

Minerva's brain went on overdrive and figured a name for Harry, he was not Harry, instead; he became the ancient Egyptian king of snakes. Apophis.

Hermione would be the foreign priestess. Cerridwen.

~Start of Minerva's tale~

As King Apophis continued to receive gifts from far and low kingdoms, he seemed quite bored at moments, and kept his expression blank, from time to time he would seem entertained at the dances, the ridiculous gestures of his courtesans, rarely displaying a smile, much like his serpentine name, he kept a cold and calculated stare.

Oh, he knew he was desirable, both male and female tried to catch his eye, but his golden skin didn't shift, nor did his favors seem to reach anyone tonight, for he was a powerful icon, a statue that commanded respect and kept guard from above.

It was then that a commotion took shape, four men were manhandling a bag, that seemed to contain a wild animal.

Guards surrounded the bag, and after a rip in the bag, an eagle broke free but just as the bird stretched her wings close to liberty, a golden chain as a snake took hold of one of her claws, and pulled the animal back from mid-flight, as the bird fell, a woman shifted in midair, and the one holding the chain made a gesture and padding took form to break the woman's fall.

The strange woman turned to her feet and noticed the delicate gold chain and pulled which pulled the King but did not make him stand, just smile, and it was a beautiful sight.

Everyone in the room took that gesture as a hint, and one and all laughed at the captive. Unamused in exchange she conjured a flame and created a radius around herself as she waited for the chain to melt.

The king observed the captive with interest, nodded at the idea of fire melting gold, and waited for the woman to realize the chain was magical, and only his power could make the item disappear or shift into something else. Now, he truly was curious about this woman.

He stepped down from his seat, which made the court mute, as he walked right up to the creature that was fighting with all her wits, to be set free.

The king's advisors and mages urged the King to keep his distance, the female was dangerous, and there was nothing more lethal than a wounded animal.

Apophis nodded and still continued, he froze the flames and chained the woman as a python would with the chain, and once the woman was still, the rest of the room, cheered for the cunning in their king.

The royal guards were about to interfere, when the king, turned and shouted, "No one touches her, she is mine!"

The guards took a step back, one dignitary pled, "Your highness, the woman is dangerous, the general who took her from her kind, said her people revered her as a goddess, and by bringing her here, her people surrendered, but she got carried here so in your presence she can get judged and executed, she was brutal in battle, she is accountable for ten thousand of our fallen men, we beg, let us kill her, so her dismembered body can get mummified and scattered throughout our domain as an example of what foreign gods mean to Egypt and all its glory," pled the advisor.

"For the good of the Empire, is that what you are proposing, vizier?" Asked the king in a very low voice. The vizier, swallowed, he knew that look, when his eyes shone with that madness, it meant the king was about to execute someone. It was here where the vizier made one mistake. The man, in question, nodded, and the king nodded, and the court, remained still, quiet for the outcome, well the court did not have to wait long, the king, took his scepter from his belt and waved it to the vizier, and everybody gasped, as the man, got struck down, and killed, Apophis added, "You wanted bloodshed, I granted your wish. Let this be a lesson, this is my house, you are my subjects, and none of you may give me orders in my home,"

He turned to the woman who was looking at the slimy former vizier, in pieces, and then she looked up to the most captivating eyes, she had ever seen. She blinked at his lopsided smile and while she knew he was up to no good, his words got lost to her, as she fell under a sleeping spell.

The light of the torches flared, and that was the moment the hall and all of its occupants got the hint. The party was over, everyone left, even the cleaners at the party removed the stain of the slain courtier and scattered as rats smelling a predator, they left the king alone in the throne room, as he watched over his prisoner's slumber. He moved his wrist, and she was clean again.

The woman awoke she was now tied to a conjured pillar; they tied her arms above her head; her legs placed on a seat, apart, the delicate fabric of her dress covered slightly her pudendum, breast, and arse. He remained seated as he read a scroll and hummed a song.

The woman woke and noticed the king, his detached attitude, and her uncomfortable position in the weird-shaped column.

The king turned and smiled, as he said, "Welcome back to the land of the living,"

"Go to hell," answered the woman, which made the king smile, he added, "Such gumption, is a rare thing in a court of simpletons,"

She looked elsewhere perhaps at the windows, looking for an escape route, the King said, "I've noticed you have scars, this is not your first capture," the King stood and added in a quiet tone, "I once had a friend, that was captured and tortured, branded to be made an example, I wasn't strong, and she suffered, while I begged the universe, to give me the strength to annihilate my enemy, I received this gift," He signaled at the chain, that was holding her and he attached by its golden design, "I released her, and lost her to death, I kept my promised and erased that kingdom from the face of the earth, looking at you now, you remind me of her,"

"Let me go," said the captive,

"I should, shouldn't I?" Asked the king in a low voice,

The king approached the woman and without touching her skin, quiet energy filled the space between the space in between their skins. The strange woman, gasped at his power tracing the skin of her neck, her arms, and how it raised the tiny hairs that covered her entire body, she shivered. The king continued, "I should be a good and merciful king, a forgiving man, a generous being,"

Said he, as he whispered in her ear, while the tips of his fingers, continued caressing the skin of her naked arms, and softly scenting the perfume of her hair.

He added, "The thing is my lovely gift, the good, the merciful, forgiving man, went to hell, as she parted the land of the living, and all that remains, is this sad, empty shell, that everyone adores hating, why would I be generous to those bastards, or to anyone, if the light in my life got taken in front of my very eyes, huh?"

"She did not die, she transformed, love doesn't die, it nurtures, protects, breaks your heart, but mends it anyway, I too lost someone, and thought I would die alone, but it took ten thousand bastards to drag me to you, we both lost so much before, but if you want love, you are going to have to show trust," replied the captive.

"I understand," said the King, as he held her chin, and closed to her lips, his eyes went to her lips, he raised his emerald eyes towards her, she noticed he was holding unshed tears, as his eyes turned to viridian fire, he continued, "I understand that trust is important, but before trust, there is faith, take a leap,"

He kissed her; she wanted to fight, but his lips were addicting, as his arms enveloped her, he took her from the pillar to the soft bed, and she embraced him back. He was hungry, so was she, again the chain stretched her in a kept her in place as a spread eagle. This time the king, conjured a small knife, and cut through her dress, revealing the hard body of the foreign warrior witch. She arched her back, trying to touch as much of his skin as he was touching her. The king smiled and with soft cooing noises, he added, "So impatient, I know, but you are mine, mine to hold to cherish and delight, be a good girl, and wait for your turn,"

The woman cursed at him for delaying her satisfaction, while he took the curse and deflected with, "Yeah, just like that, hate me, for I'm a bad, bad man," He kissed her neck, bit her auricle, kissed her long in the lips, teasing her lips, no matter how hard she wanted to taste his tongue, he backed up and kissed elsewhere, her chin, her shoulders, the tips of her nipples, and her ribs, avoiding her pubic area.

Still, his fingers gently caressed her hips and even scratched, as she hissed in pleasure. Again his magic did a sweep of her thighs, spread her legs began making the outline of her vulva, with his thumbs. She trembled, she closed her eyes and waited, that's when he knew she gave in, and the king's thinking functions displayed a change. As the new obsession gained importance.

He pulled her legs so Apophis placed aside her knees from each of his ears as he dove and licked a trail in the small curls around her slightly dark pink, engorged nether lips. She moaned, and he lost sight of time, and reason, as he continued, in an unending cycle, that left him covered in her juices, and her without a voice.

He turned her around, made her stand on her hands and knees, and in this new position, he pinched her clit; her back undulated, welcoming his touch. Unknown to them, there was a serving tray in front that became an improvised mirror. She noticed, how he took the last of his clothes, and revealed a ravishing sight, as he joined her a second later in one swift movement. She cried at his entry and he cried at her warmth, but the chain, displayed its aura, as he rode her like a madman. She tried to look away, but in front of her, was the image of a woman being dominated by her desire, his pleasure, it was crude and it was erotic, she wanted to close her eyes, and he said, "No, open your eyes, look at yourself, it's you, that your skin, your body, your magic, and mine, it is us, fucking, loving, mating, us, you are my queen, I am your king, take me as I am, for I cannot take anyone other than you, now say it, say it, with your cunt, to my cock, you are mine,"

She cried and felt each one of his thrusts as he made his pledge, "I'm yours, your queen, with eyes wide open, I give myself to you, to this fucking, mating, loving, my king, take my cunt, I accept and welcome your cock, ah!"

"I love you," he moaned as he fell on top and she too lost her balance, "I love you too," she said after a moment and fell under the weight into the matting.

~End of Minerva's tale. ~

The chain disappeared as it melted into their bodies, and she could turn and kiss him, this time delving with her tongue, and that was when Harry moaned and said, "Seriously dear, you want to kill me with pleasure, don't you?"

"Well, it's your fucking fault isn't Harry? Why do you have to be so irritatingly sexy?"

"Me? No, it's you, I mean, you did your sexy animagus hit and run, and I was out of ideas, seriously woman, I had to improvise from beginning to end," said Harry,

"Well, you are pretty good at what you do, when you do it to me, so I guess I'll just keep only hinting, um, I think we should leave," said Hermione,

"Just five more minutes dear, I think I broke my back, and my knees are killing me," said Harry.

"Oh, knock it off, you are you are forty-one, going on forty-two, not a hundred and twenty," giggled Hermione.

"I still had a duel against, Flitwick, Weasley, and Malfoy, plus, I fulfilled my wife's fantasy, and tomorrow I have to cook and babysit for a four-year-old, seriously woman, you abuse me, and I'm going to start my SPEW campaign for overworked husbands," said Harry,

"Oh, my poor sweet baby, your insatiable wife is pushing you so hard, there, there, are you tired?" Asked Hermione in a deceptively sweet voice, something in that slight change of voice scared Harry worse than the pink toad had in her day. He answered, "Um, maybe,"

Months later, Susan Amelia Bones, head of the DMLE, brought a book, a bodice ripper, Viridian Heat, with a couple that highly hinted, at both Harry and Hermione Potter, wearing different costumes. Harry was a Pharaoh, and Hermione was a Celt maiden.

"Can you believe this story? I mean it's a bit over the top, but, still amazing, however, what's more, amazing is the models used in this cover, I mean, look, don't you find it weird, it looks just like Harry and you?"

Hermione looked at the cover, and she did not know what to say. Her husband was so sexy, and Merlin, after that night she was pregnant again with their fifth child, and at the moment she was super horny and needy for her husband, she blinked and asked Susan, "Susie, she has a perfect arse, and hair, and look, uh, this guy is wearing eyeliner, now think would Harry even touch this stuff?"

"Oh, shut up Potter, you have a perfect arse, and Harry might not touch eyeliner with a ten-foot pole, but that model in the cover, is spot on, and now women all over the world love to hate you, I just wanted to lend you my copy, oh, the intimate scenes are stuck in my mind, and uh, I need a glass of cold water, thank you very much. Now, you need to go home, and read this to Harry, if anything you'll laugh, g'night Minister,"

"Good night," She took the book and said to herself, "And, according to the world, the gold medal goes to Gryffindor, yeah,"

The End.

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