Hermione's Secret
21st June 2002
Ginny Weasley's raucous hen night was still going strong a few minutes before midnight. Hannah Longbottom walked meanderingly with her eyes covered with a sleeping mask, holding the paper cutout of a penis. All the women in the room were screaming conflicting directions to her. The blonde witch finally placed the paper cutout on the knee of a poster of a naked man with a white circle where the appendage should go. The poster had a photo of Harry's face glued to the head.
"We need a decision from the judge!" Angelina Weasley, the organiser of the party, shouted above the din of all the women.
Ginny approached the poster adorned with more than a dozen penis cutouts of different shapes and sizes. The redhead briefly scrutinised it. Several cutouts were close to the target area, but there was a clear winner. She removed the penis closest to the groin and read the name written on the back of the picture.
"The winner is, not surprisingly," the redhead added, "Hermione!"
Cheers erupted around the room.
"Silence… SILENCE!" shouted Angelina. "Hermione, please come forward to claim your prize," the hostess announced, handing Ginny a paper bag.
The bride-to-be looked inside the bag, covered her mouth with her right hand, and laughed. After she regained her composure, she raised her hand and urged everyone to be quiet. Hermione stood next to her, looking apprehensive.
Ginny looked at the brunette fondly, but then an impish smile spread across her lips. "Hermione, I love you like the sister I never had, so I'm happy that this prize is something that I know you will put to good and constant use. I'm sure it will have a place of honour in the vast collection you keep hidden in the second drawer from the bottom of your bedroom dresser."
Hermione received the paper bag, looked inside, and immediately closed it, blushing Weasley red, which she technically was.
Shouts of "let us see it" and "show us" rang out across the room, and given the brunette's reticence, soon there was a chorus demanding that she "show it, show it, show it!"
"All right, all right," Hermione said placatingly. "I'll show you."
Smiling brightly, Hermione pulled an anatomically correct nine-inch dildo out of the bag to a riotous cacophony of catcalls, whistles, and screams from the crowd of young women.
Angelina once again called for silence. "Ginny, could you now please pin the correct-sized cock to our sadly castrated Harry?"
Ginny theatrically placed a hand on her chest, looking shocked and offended. "What makes you think I've seen Harry's cock? I'll have you know that I go into my wedding night pure as the driven snow."
The derisive laughter in the room was deafening.
"You've ridden Harry more than your broom," shouted Demelza Robins.
"Which is saying something for a Quidditch player," observed Katie Bell.
"Is that why Harry always looks so exhausted?" questioned Alicia Spinnet.
"Yes. When Harry complains about being overworked, he's not complaining about his job in the Auror Office," Parvati Patil explained.
Jesting shouts of "slag" and "nympho" echoed through the room.
Ginny laughed along with everyone else. She began to unpin all the penises from the poster and examined all of them carefully. Looking resigned, she kissed the photo of Harry's face on the poster.
"I'm sorry to do this to you, love," she said to the photo loud enough for everyone to hear, "but if these witches knew what you're packing, one might try to steal you away from me," she concluded as she pinned the smallest penis to the crotch.
Shouts of "bollocks" and "liar" rang out, but Angelina once again established order. The events of the night when Harry was transported out of Privet Drive for the last time had been tragic, but time had mostly healed those wounds.
"Some of you might not be aware of this," Angelina said, "but luckily, we have two witches here who have Polyjuiced into Harry and might be able to give us their impressions." She turned toward Fleur Weasley first. "Did you take a peek, Fleur?"
The French witch and Hermione had changed clothes in the downstairs bathroom of Privet Drive that evening. "Of course I did," she answered matter-of-factly with only a slight accent. "My little sister had a crush on Harry back then, and I wanted to see what he had to offer her. A part Veela is not easy to satisfy, so I did it purely out of sisterly love." Several cries of "bollocks" and "rubbish" were heard.
"And…" Angelina prompted.
"Even soft, his cock looked very promising."
Catcalls and whistles rang out.
Ginny anticipated Angelina as soon as the noise diminished. "What about you, Hermione? Did you take a peek?" she asked, scrutinising the brunette's face.
Hermione chuckled. "Five seconds after I got inside the loo, Ron knocked on the door non-stop, telling me to hurry up and that we were late. I was so flustered, I forgot to look."
Ginny laughed. "Yes, that sounds like something Ron would do."
As soon as her sister-in-law looked away, Hermione swallowed hard and exhaled with relief.
28th June 1997
Hermione Granger stood before the stairwell Gargoyle leading to Professor Dumbledore's office at the appointed time. When earlier, a pale-looking Neville told her that the headmaster wanted to talk to her in private, she thought it had to be a mistake.
"Are you sure he didn't mean Harry?" she asked, intrigued.
"Yes," Neville responded. "He told me to make sure you were alone when I gave you this message and to tell you not to say anything to Harry."
Since her conversation with Neville, Hermione had been pondering the headmaster's message, trying to decipher what Dumbledore could possibly want from her. The only thing she was certain of was that it would be related to Harry, and her concern for his future was a constant, deeply felt companion in her thoughts.
The bushy-haired witch faced the Gargoyle and addressed it firmly. "Chocolate Frogs."
The stone sculpture moved aside to reveal the stairs, which transported visitors to the corridor leading to the Headmaster's Office. She was shocked to see Ginny coming down the stairs, crying inconsolably. The brunette immediately rushed to hug her.
"What happened? Are you all right?" Hermione asked, alarmed and stepping back.
"No. I'm not all right!" Ginny replied harshly, but immediately, her face contorted with pain and regret, and she hugged her friend fiercely. "I'm sorry I snapped at you, Hermione. He's waiting for you," she said before wailing down the hallway.
Hermione took the stairs and, after walking down the short corridor, stood in front of Dumbledore's office door, ready to knock, when it suddenly opened by itself.
"Come in, Ms Granger," Dumbledore called out.
Hermione was taken aback by the headmaster's appearance. He looked aged and fragile, and his left hand was withered and blackened. She now understood that he used a glamour charm to conceal his actual appearance in public. She also noticed a collection of potion ingredients on his desk. The brunette narrowed her eyebrows when she saw lacewing flies, boomslang skin and leeches among the ingredients.
Dumbledore waved his wand, and his appearance reverted to the one he presented to the public. "I apologise if I gave you a shock, Ms Granger. I forgot my glamour had worn off," he said, looking over his half-moon glasses.
Hermione spluttered, not knowing what to say. She suspected that Dumbledore had wanted her to see him that way. "You called for me?" she asked, uncertain.
The headmaster nodded and extended a bowl of candy toward her. "Would you like a sherbet lemon?"
Hermione took one from the bowl but did not eat it.
"I know it has been a very stressful year for you, Ms Granger..."
Hermione interrupted with an ironic chuckle. "Every single year at Hogwarts has been stressful, Professor," she corrected him.
Dumbledore looked at her with sad eyes. "Yes, I suppose so. Fate made you the best friend of the Chosen One, and destiny has not been kind to Harry." The old wizard paused, and his eyes filled with unshed tears. He composed himself before continuing. "Excuse me if this question is too personal, but has your friendship with Mr Weasley been fully restored?"
Hermione's mind raced. Had she truly forgiven Ron for the hurt he had caused her during his relationship with Lavender Brown? She nodded. "Yes, I think so."
"I'm afraid next year will be even more stressful for all of you, Ms Granger," Dumbledore said, steepling his fingers. "Harry will need the help and support of his friends more than ever."
"Ron and I will do everything in our power to help Harry any way we can, Professor," Hermione stated firmly with a hint of anger. Her loyalty to Harry and her friends was unwavering, and she was ready to face any challenge for their sake. "You should know that already. What did you tell Ginny?" she demanded.
Dumbledore let out a tired breath of air. "Like all of us, Ms Weasley has a role to play if Voldemort is to die and Harry is to live. Unfortunately, her role is not to her liking. My conversation with her has been the most difficult so far. Ms Weasley deeply loves Harry. That mutual love is pure and true, but must wait until Voldemort's downfall for the greater good."
Out of her great respect for the headmaster, Hermione resisted the urge to say some choice words about the greater good. She understood the gravity of the situation and the importance of her role. "Why do you have Polyjuice potion ingredients on your desk?" she asked instead.
Dumbledore chuckled. "Alas, you're indeed the brightest witch of the Age." The old wizard shifted on the chair to be more comfortable before continuing. "Harry has to return to his relatives in Little Whinging for one last time after the end of term. However, the blood protection the house affords him will expire on his seventeenth birthday. He will need to leave a few days before then."
Dumbledore waited for Hermione's nod of confirmation that she understood before continuing. "As you probably already figured out, the day Harry leaves his relative's house will be one of the most dangerous for him. The date will remain a secret for now; however, with the help of Alastor Moody, we have devised a couple of plans to take him away safely. One of them involves an elaborate deception. At this point, we're not sure which plan will be implemented."
"And that plan involves Polyjuice potion..." Hermione speculated, her mind racing with possibilities.
"Precisely, Ms Granger," Dumbledore said with a wide smile. "Polyjuice is a very tricky potion to make, and getting it wrong could have disastrous consequences. You have already proven you can make it, and I wouldn't trust anyone else to do it." His trust in her abilities was evident, and it made Hermione feel gratified.
"Why not ask Professor Snape to do it?" Hermione asked, puzzled.
"As you already know, the shelf life of Polyjuice is limited. I said before that we all have roles to play, and Professor Snape's role means he won't have the trust of the Order of the Phoenix when the time comes."
"Why?" the brunette asked.
"That will be apparent to you later. Unfortunately, I can only give you the information you need to know, but not more," the headmaster replied.
Hermione was no fool. Dumbledore was playing three-dimensional chess, using everyone, including Harry, Ron and her, as pieces in his game. She also knew some chess pieces needed to be sacrificed to achieve victory.
"Why should I trust you? Why should any one of us trust you?" she said with despair.
"As you already saw when you came in, I'm dying." Hermione gasped, but Dumbledore continued. "Harry is the only hope for the wizarding world to defeat Voldemort. If he fails, all of you, including Ms Weasley, will die." Again, his eyes filled with tears. "I know I ask too much of all of you, but there is no other way."
After thinking about her predicament for a minute, Hermione assented.
"Thank you, Ms Granger," the headmaster smiled weakly. "All the ingredients are here for you to take. The potion must be ready no later than a week before Harry's birthday, so time your potion brewing accordingly."
"After the potion is finished," Hermione interjected, "it should be tested to make sure it's right. Ideally, with some of Harry's hair. Can I ask Harry for some?"
Dumbledore smiled appreciatively at the bushy-haired witch. "Only you, Alastor Moody and I know about this plan. It should stay that way. That's why I took the liberty of taking some of Harry's hair during our last meeting without his knowledge," he said, showing her a phial with a locket of black hair.
Hermione had a million questions, but she had always trusted Dumbledore. She gathered all the ingredients in a bottomless mokeskin bag the headmaster provided and left the office.
21st July 1997
Hermione told her parents she would take a nap so they wouldn't disturb her, and then she went into her bedroom. The brunette peeked anxiously inside her cauldron. It was bubbling slowly, and a little steam was rising from it. She grabbed the ladle and tested the consistency of the potion. It was satisfactorily thick and mud-like.
"Perfect," she exclaimed with a satisfied smile.
Hermione grabbed Harry's hair lock and added it to the cauldron. The brunette stirred three times clockwise and watched in awe as the potion began to froth and smoke. It then turned a pure golden colour, which she carefully recorded in her notebook.
The bushy-haired witch collected eight doses in glass phials and placed an unbreakable charm on seven. Some potion was left over, and she put it in a larger bottle just in case. She grabbed the eight phial and looked at it intensely, gathering her resolve.
Harry had grown considerably the previous summer, so it was out of the question to wear her own clothes when testing the potion. He was almost six feet tall now, and even though he was lean, he no longer was skinny. She undressed completely and put on an old pair of baggy shorts and a T-shirt her father had discarded.
The brunette looked at the clock and wrote down the time. It was essential to know how long the transformation would last. Then, she took a single swig of the Polyjuice potion from the phial. In her notes, she described the taste of the potion as best she could. It was mostly sweet but with a strong kick at the end.
She lay down on her bed and wrote down how she felt during the transformation. Her insides felt like they were writhing before a burning sensation started, spreading from her stomach all the way to her fingers and toes. Hermione gasped as her entire skin began to bubble like hot wax. She scrunched her eyes as she felt her limbs grow. It was painful but bearable.
Hermione looked at the clock and noted the transformation time: one minute and ten seconds. Immediately, she got up to look at herself in the full-length mirror behind her bedroom door. Her hips had narrowed, and her father was not exactly thin, so she had to hold up the shorts to avoid them dropping to the floor. It was odd to see the perspective of her surroundings from Harry's height. He was about six inches taller than her. When she stood in front of the mirror, she gasped. Harry was looking back at her from the mirror. The brunette got closer to ascertain that every detail of his face was correctly transformed. She smiled proudly at the reflection. The striking green eyes, the lighting bolt scar and the messy black hair, left no doubt that the potion was flawless.
When she walked back to the bed to finish her notes, she experienced a weird sensation. Without underwear, Harry's dangly bits were rubbing against her inner thigh as she walked.
Hermione had been expecting it. From the moment Dumbledore had given her the task to make Polyjuice, she had been painfully aware of the fact that, for at least an hour, she would have Harry's penis.
For three weeks, she had struggled with the ethical implications of examining Harry's manly parts to satisfy her curiosity about male anatomy. Hermione would be turning eighteen years old in two months, and she had never seen a penis in the flesh. She, of course, had read books on sexual subjects. Even though her parents were dentists, they had an extensive medical library, and some of the books had actual pictures of both male and female sexual organs with lines naming every part of each.
In the end, she decided that it would be unethical and unfair to examine her friend's penis, even if it was only for educational purposes. She sat on the bed and finished her notes. Then she got up, put away the remaining potion ingredients, and magically cleaned the cauldron and the rest of the potion-making materials. There was no doubt that being able to use magic at home was a blessing. She looked at the clock and noticed fifteen minutes had passed since the transformation. She looked in the mirror, and everything was still the same. As she walked back to the bed to read a book while she waited, she realised she had already gotten used to Harry's bits rubbing against her thighs. She had almost forgotten about them, which made her feel considerable relief.
Five minutes later, though, something happened that she had not considered despite her careful planning.
Hermione needed to pee.
She was able to hold it for ten more minutes, but she would not be able to hold it for another thirty minutes, probably longer. She would have to pee. Hermione felt her face heat up and mentally begged Harry to forgive her. The brunette went into the bathroom, lowered her shorts without looking, and sat on the toilet. Just before she reached down to point the penis in the right direction, she realised that men didn't typically urinate sitting down.
Hermione was curious about what peeing standing up would be like. She briefly struggled with the ethical considerations, but her bladder reminded her she would need to make a decision quickly. The brunette gathered her courage and stood up, facing the toilet. There was a large mirror behind the toilet and bathroom counter.
Hermione gasped at the reflection and, for the moment, forgot about the need to pee. Harry's pale, flaccid penis was hanging straight down on the cushion provided by his testicles. It was slightly larger and thicker than the limp penises in the photos she had seen. Slowly, her head moved down until she was looking directly at Harry's manly bits. She spread her legs and moved until the penis was pointing down about the middle of the toilet and contracted the inner sphincter and pelvic floor muscles.
Pee started flying in every direction like it was coming from an out-of-control hose until she abruptly stopped.
"What the fuck!" Hermione said out loud. Disgusted, she saw there was pee all over the toilet seat, the floor, and even running down her legs. The brunette looked down and realised the problem was that the foreskin was on the way and that she would need to pull it back.
She couldn't help but laugh nervously when she took hold of her... correction... Harry's penis and pulled back the foreskin to reveal the pink head. After pointing carefully, she contracted the muscles, and the strong flow started again. She excitedly laughed when she was able to move the direction of the stream by simply moving the penis with her hand. She did a whole circle around the toilet bowl. "Once you get the hang of it, this thing is really convenient," she thought and chuckled. She had never had so much fun peeing.
After finishing, Hermione grabbed her wand from the bathroom counter and cleaned the mess she had made. She applied a disinfectant charm to the surfaces and her legs and bits for good measure.
Hermione stood before the mirror, examining the member between her legs more closely. She reached down and retracted the foreskin with her left hand. With the index finger of her right hand, the brunette curiously traced the ridge of the bell end of Harry's penis and then ran it along the large vein on top. She let go of the foreskin and watched as it slowly covered the head. Hermione pulled the foreskin back again to uncover the head and then let go. She repeated the action a few times.
"Now you see it, now you don't. Now you see it, now you don't," she said aloud as she laughed at the reflection in the mirror.
Then Hermione froze, and her eyes went wide with horror. She could feel Harry's penis was quickly getting harder and bigger in her hand.
"No, no, no, no. Please don't," Hermione begged. She even tried slapping the growing appendage several times to bring it down, but that did not help. In a matter of seconds, Harry's cock was standing at full attention, and the veins were angrily engorged.
"Blimey!"
She was no expert, and she had no actual frame of reference, but to her, that thing looked bloody enormous.
Hermione had to wonder if Ginny had any idea what she was getting into, or, more precisely, if Ginny had any idea of what would be getting into her. The brunette couldn't help but chuckle. She remembered one Saturday afternoon before Harry and Ginny "broke up" when she saw the couple returning from a long walk around the lake. After Ron had corralled Harry into a chess game, she had teasingly asked the redhead what the young couple had gotten up to during their walk, and the redhead had blushed to the roots of her hair. After relentless probing and teasing, Ginny confessed with an impish smile they had gotten "a little bit handsy" but refused to provide more details.
Hermione looked down again at the impressive appendage between her legs and struggled with the impulse to satisfy her most predominant personal characteristic: curiosity. Despite her apprehensions and ethical concerns, she had to touch it. The brunette justified her actions by convincing herself she only did it for educational purposes. Her hand apprehensively reached toward the pulsating cock as if she was trying to pet some dangerous animal.
Hermione was shocked by how hard and hot it was and, despite that, how soft the skin felt. Her hand proceeded to cup the testicles, and she gently kneaded the silky smooth skin, feeling Harry's balls moving inside.
The pulsating of his cock grew more pronounced, and Hermione acted entirely on instinct, without any rational intent on her part. The brunette was shocked when she saw in the mirror and noticed her hand firmly wrapped around Harry's penis. Her hand was slowly sliding up and down the shaft.
She was going to Hell. She was definitely going to Hell.
Was she wanking her best friend, or was she wanking herself? Her brain could no longer think straight. Seeing that big meat stick in her hand made her randy, and the distinctions became nebulous. Some part of her was screaming that she should stop, but the appearing and disappearing act of the pink head inside the foreskin was almost hypnotic.
If Ginny ever found out about this, she would murder her.
Reason enough to stop, you would think, but she did not stop. Her hand, or was it Harry's hand, kept moving up and down the ivory shaft. She noticed with surprise that the head was now completely wet with a syrupy and transparent liquid, not unlike the one that her own pussy produced when she wanked herself and got wet. It was a surprising discovery. This was the first time she had ever seen a penis, much less wanked one, and she had no idea that boys also got wet. Although thinking about it, she realised it made sense for them to do so.
"Don't do it. Don't do it, Hermione," she begged fervently to the reflection in the mirror.
In for a knut, in for a Galleon, she thought. Holding the cock firmly with her left hand, she used the index finger of her right hand to collect a large drop of pre-cum and put the finger in her mouth.
"Mmmm," she hummed.
She was going to Hell—no doubt about it.
Her index finger circled the head, gathered all the pre-cum she could, and eagerly sucked the sweet wetness into her mouth. Hermione resumed wanking that magnificent cock with more urgency. The speed increased, and she took one last look in the mirror before her head dropped back, and she closed her eyes. She could feel an orgasm building.
Hermione felt an odd sensation when she closed her eyes. She could feel the ghost of her female breasts and the urge to touch them, so she reached with her left hand and pinched Harry's flat and small nipples. There was something there, but not quite the sensitivity of her female breasts.
Hermione knew an orgasm was inevitable now. She could feel the tension in her loins increasing and the release getting closer. The brunette opened her eyes, not wanting to miss the moment. She was now furiously pumping that cock and wondered if she was hurting Harry's bits, but it felt too good to be bad.
The release was explosive. Hermione grunted as a thick rope of milky spunk shot out of Harry's penis like a bullet and splashed on the mirror three feet away. The contractions made her legs feel weak, and four more thick ropes of spunk shot out, each one a little weaker than the last.
"Fuck," Hermione exclaimed, breathing and exhaling raggedly. She rode out the last weak contractions and watched as Harry's cock slowly softened until it reached its original and deceptively modest dimensions.
After cleaning the mess on the mirror and the bathroom counter, she returned to the bedroom, dangly bits dangling, and grabbed her notebook.
The bushy-haired witch made detailed notes of her impressions of the anatomy and sexual response of her male body. She filled several pages before she suddenly felt a writhing inside her. Hermione looked at the clock and made note of the time. It had been one hour and thirty-five minutes, which was more than enough for what Mad-eye Moody had planned.
The transformation into her female body wasn't as painful, and she kept an eye on Harry's penis as it bubbled and shrank back to form her pussy again. After it was over, she realised her pussy was wet, just as the head of Harry's penis had been before the transformation began. Since she was already wet, she figured she should get a fresh perspective on her female sexual response. Hermione's right hand moved toward her crotch.
Ten minutes later, a still panting and breathless Hermione wrote in detail her impressions on the differences between a female orgasm and a male orgasm in her notebook. After she finished writing, she stood in front of the mirror behind the door and confirmed that she had completely transformed back into herself.
22nd June 2002, Early Morning
Around an hour past midnight, Angelina called Ginny forward to open her presents. Angelina would read the name of the person giving the gift, and Ginny would open the present and show it to everyone.
It was a noisy and rowdy affair.
The tamest of the gifts she received were some risqué sets of lingerie. The fun started when Ginny opened Luna's present, who gave her a set of chrome-plated anal plugs.
Unprompted amid the boisterous noise, Ginny had declared that there was no way that would ever happen. When Hermione laughed loudly and nodded knowingly in agreement, Ginny gave her a puzzled look but continued to open her presents.
The leather whip and handcuffs had everyone loudly speculating who would wear the cuffs and who would wield the whip, and the edible knickers had many witches asking Susan Bones where she had bought them. A copy of the Kama Sutra with magical moving pictures that Padma Patil gifted Ginny was passed around the room, generating oohs and aahs from the wide-eyed witches.
Hermione had given Ginny a wide assortment of personal lubricants, both Muggle and Magical. The brunette claimed she wanted to give her something useful, but she had doggedly avoided eye contact with the redhead.
A couple of hours later, several of the witches in Ginny's hen night were passed out drunk on the floor. Others were talking drunkenly in small groups. On the far corner, Mandy Brocklehurst and Lisa Turpin were snogging fiercely with their hands up each other's skirts.
Hermione, who always drank moderately, was sitting on the sofa, nicely buzzed by the liquor. She watched as Ginny approached and sat next to her. The petite redhead could hold her liquor better than most men twice her size. She had a mokeskin bag hanging from her neck where she had stored the presents she had received.
After a full minute sitting side by side on the sofa, Ginny turned to face Hermione.
"You did see Harry's cock, didn't you?" the redhead said evenly. "And not when it was limp," she emphasised.
Hermione turned and looked at her friend. Ginny's expression was inscrutable. The liquor coursing through the brunette's veins made her feel relaxed and uninhibited. She smiled. "I totally did," she said excitedly.
Ginny chuckled, and the silence returned for another minute.
"Harry swears nothing ever happened in the tent between you two after Ron abandoned you. I always believed him, but now I'm not so sure."
Hermione quickly turned, grabbed Ginny by the shoulders, and looked her straight in the eyes. "Nothing has ever happened between us. I swear it on my magic." She sat back. "I made the Polyjuice we used that night," the brunette explained. "Dumbledore asked me to do it because I had done it before."
"And in that short time in the loo, you got to see his erect cock?"
Hermione furrowed her brows. "No. Ron was pounding on the door the moment I got in the loo. An annoying prat, he was."
"So when did you see his cock?"
"After I finished making the potion, I had to test it to be sure it would work. It would have been a disaster if we had been at Little Whinging, and the potion had been no good." She turned to look at the redhead again. "Ginny, I swear on my magic I wasn't planning to look, but I had to pee. I tried to hold it, but I couldn't, and… well… it didn't take much for that thing to get hard."
Comprehension dawned on Ginny's face. After a few seconds, she laughed out loud. "You're right. Harry gets hard when there is a mild breeze… not that I'm complaining."
Ginny leaned affectionately on Hermione's shoulder, and the brunette mirrored her movement until their heads touched.
"Are you going to murder me?" Hermione asked absently.
"I'm still thinking about it," Ginny said evenly and then chuckled. "Harry does have a nice cock, doesn't he?"
"Yes. You're one lucky witch. Harry is handsome and rich and loves you with all his soul. To top it all off, he comes with a big, fat cock."
Both women laughed.
A minute later, Ginny spoke again. "I decided not to murder you. Want to know why?"
"Why?"
"Because if I had had Harry's Polyjuice, I would have totally looked."
Both witches laughed and fell asleep a few minutes later, leaning on each other.
THE END