8. Rumours?

That evening, at dinner and on the way to their Common Room, Hermione held his hand in public for the first time. Only the girls seemed to notice.

That night, after their lessons their first "day" in the Room, The Professor started them on dancing lessons.

"Face each other," The Professor said. "Harry, take her right hand in your left hand. You both place the other around each other's back."

Harry placed his hand on her waist and she put her hand on his back. The Professor smiled. "No, around your waists." S/he made a gesture and Harry found himself suddenly pressed against Hermione, almost like one of her hugs, except one hand was holding one of hers and their opposite hands were on each other's back, at waist-level.

He felt himself blushing.

Having Hermione's jubblies — they definitely were not small — and hips pressed against him was giving him a . . . physical reaction. Which, considering their position, he knew Hermione could not miss.

Harry was frantic that Hermione would be upset by his physical reaction to having her pressed against him while dancing. Hermione, he thought, would get angry, he was positive.

When they had snogged on other occasions, he had always been able to manoeuvre in such a way that he wasn't pressing anything objectionable against her. Or, at least, he had hoped that was the case.

"Don't worry about the dance steps or stepping on each other's toes, there's a special spell for each of the different dance styles. It will guide you and build up your muscle memory so you will dance without thinking about it," The Professor explained. "We will spend an hour each night on a new style until you learn all of them."

Harry tried shifting his hips back a bit to not press against her.

"That's not proper posture," The Professor said, s/he gestured, and Harry found his hips almost glued against Hermione's.

She was blushing, too, he noticed, which only made his own face get hotter.

He started thinking about Arithmancy and Runes in a vain effort to distract himself.

Finally, the torture ended.

They both were blushing madly an hour later when the music finally stopped. The Professor disappeared as the music faded.

After an extremely awkward few seconds, Harry rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and said, "Uh, sorry?"

She looked at him, puzzled. "Sorry?"

"Er," he said and glanced down significantly.

She frowned for a moment, then sighed. "Harry, there's nothing to apologize for." She was still blushing, herself. "It was a bit embarrassing, true, but it is also a very natural reaction for a teenage boy. In fact, I should be rather upset if you hadn't had that reaction!"

He stared at her. "What?"

She rolled her eyes. "If you hadn't had a reaction, I would wonder what was wrong with me," she said. "Or you," she muttered a moment later.

"Besides," she continued, "it's not as if you were being obnoxious about it, deliberately and nastily rubbing up against me, trying to embarrass me."

"Oh," he said, and looked around the room, still hot-faced.

"Uh, I think I need to study Runes," he said, and headed for his room.

That seemed to be the pattern for their evenings for the next three "days."

Harry confirmed on Beach Day, as he had started to call their non-study "days" in the Room, that Hermione's bikini was indeed getting smaller — and her nightgowns seemed to getting more transparent. Which she had started changing into in the early "evenings" several "weeks" ago.

This time, Hermione's swimsuit was missing its entire top — she was wearing only the bottoms. And the bottoms weren't very big, either.

After a moment of stunned staring — wow, they looked even better like that than he had dreamed — he spun around and said, "Hermione!" in an alarmed squeak.

He then discovered that his swim-trunks had been getting a bit shorter and tighter over the weeks in the Room and he hadn't really noticed. He had been too distracted by her bikini each time.

"Harry," she said calmly — he could hear the amusement in her voice — "the beaches in France, where we holiday almost every summer, women frequently go topless. It's considered normal. I've done it dozens, if not hundreds, of times. So, turn around."

Harry was in a quandary. If he turned around, she would see his rather obvious reaction to seeing her topless — especially because one of his dangly bits wasn't dangling anymore! His John Thomas was sticking well out of the confines of his swim-trunks and he had no way to make it fit that wouldn't emphasize it, and be painful, too boot!

Unfortunately, if he didn't turn around, she would badger him until he did.

He felt her hug him from behind.

Oh, now, that wasn't fair.

He was acutely aware of just what it was she was pressing so tightly to his back. Even if he had thought he could get things under control, it was impossible, now. His traitorous bit seemed to stick even further up out of his swimsuit.

"Harry," she said softly. "You're my boyfriend, right?"

He gurgled something that was close to a 'yes.'

"You're my boyfriend. If I didn't want you to see me topless, I wouldn't have taken off the top, right?"

Her being topless wasn't the problem. Well, it was a problem. It was his obvious reaction to her being topless that was really the problem.

He made a noise somewhat like a mouse might make if you stepped on it.

"Unless," she said hesitantly, fearfully, and she stopped hugging him. Her hands dropped lower as her grip loosened and she started to move back.

He didn't hear what she was about to say next because, before he could move, her hands had dropped far enough to touch and then reflexively wrap around his exposed bit.

He squeaked as his whole body jerked.

Then she squeaked as she reflexively squeezed what she held in her hands in reaction.

They jumped apart.

"I think it would be better if I put my top back on," she said breathlessly from behind him.

He heard her door slam a second later before he had time to do more than squeak a reply.

He ran inside his room. He needed a new pair of dry swim-trunks.

He decided that he would wear shorts, today — and two pairs of pants to keep things a bit more under his control.

Both stayed in their rooms for much longer than the time it took to simply change to new swim attire.

Hermione's bikini was not nearly as small as it had been the last couple of "weeks." They spent most of the day blushing every time they looked at each other. To say it was awkward would be an understatement.

They skipped dancing practice that evening, and the next, although Hermione still insisted on leaning against him on the couch in the "evenings" while they read their textbooks — and while wearing a thicker nightgown. Fortunately, his shorts, and the three pairs of underwear he wore, prevented making things even more awkward than they were.

The following Beach "Day," Hermione's bikini was back to being the size it had been several "weeks" ago — a small-but-covered-everything-more-than-adequately size. His imagination still insisted it turned semi-transparent when wet, though.

He didn't know whether to be glad or disappointed. After much consideration, he decided he was disappointed.

That night they also finished their Fourth-year curriculum. It was their eleventh "normal" night of studying for their Fourth-year, only two nights more than Hermione's revised calculation had indicated it would take them. That was the fault of potions being time-sensitive to prepare — that is, you couldn't hurry them. The last two "days" in the Room saw Professor Hogwarts giving them their Fourth-year exams. Harry was more than a little surprised at how well he did score — especially in Potions.

Hermione's "reward" for his excellent scores the first day was a bit more than just a long session of snogging. Partway through, she shifted one of his hands from her back to one of her jubblies.

It was on top of her nightgown, but the material was very thin. It seemed there was a spell someone had developed that did the job of a bra — support and protection. It provided protection and support while also allowing a more natural appearance.

It didn't impede his hand.

He had many happy dreams that "night," and the next "night," for the two "days" it took to complete their exams. He didn't even mind the stiffness of his bed when he woke in his regular Dorm room at the end of their night's session in the Room. He made sure to renew the silencing charm on his bed and bed curtains. He wanted to properly celebrate the latest milestone in his relationship with Hermione, again, without disturbing his roommates.

They started their Fifth Year, curriculum, the dreaded OWLs year, the next night.

December sixteenth was a Friday and the last day of regular classes before the Christmas hols. However, for Harry and Hermione, that day was four "months" away, with Christmas being eight "months"!

At the end of the next night's three "weeks", they found that Hermione had underestimated what it would take to complete the fifth through seventh years while in the Room. It would take sixteen regular nights in the Room instead of twelve for each one at the rate they were going, according to The Professor! The material was a lot more difficult than Hermione had imagined, plus it required much more reading than she had anticipated.

No wonder the Fifth- and Seventh-year students were always so stressed.

And that was after The Professor had taught them both the special charms they needed to quickly and efficiently find information in a book, or find books in a library. They wouldn't waste hours searching and reading material that wasn't of use like the other students in Madam Pence's library did.

Still, they were making steady progress.

On more than one front, too.

Over a "month" later spent in the Room — two days in Hogwarts — Hermione's bikini was once more starting to get smaller and Harry was no longer wearing multiple pairs of pants under his swim-trunks.

Plus, they had become quite proficient at all the dances that they could possibly be expected to know at a Wizard's Ball, as well as quite a few that were popular in the Muggle world, such as the Tango, the Swing, the Electric Slide, and so forth. As a result, they weren't practicing every night, but only on their "relaxation" day.

To his surprise, he had discovered she really did not mind when his John Thomas reacted to what they were doing together — dancing, snogging, swimming, and so forth — as long as he wasn't obnoxious about it. In fact, she seemed to like it!

In the castle, the last few days of the week before the hols were chaotic. Most of the students were too keyed up for the coming holidays, and the Ball, to concentrate on their courses. This was especially true for the Fourth-year and above students who wanted to attend the Ball.

That didn't prevent Professor Binns from continuing on about goblin rebellions. It was amazing how he could make even bloody and vicious goblin riots sound as boring as a ministry report on the thickness of different cauldrons. Professors McGonagall and Moody didn't let up either, and kept them working until the very last second of their classes too. Ron had been quite upset when Snape announced the test the week before — it was to be an antidotes test. The boy bitterly complained about not being able to relax and skive-off studying in the days before the hols started.

The Professor, of course, prepped them for it on their last "day" in the Room the night before.

It was hard not to smirk at seeing Snape's angry, but silent, reaction to Harry and Hermione acing the written portion of the test, and brewing a perfect antidote in the practical that Friday.

Ron had still not selected a date to the Ball. Ron had been stressing more and more ever since McGonagall had announced it. Why he ran up to Fleur and asked her, not even he could explain. However, Harry saw Parvati and Lavender coming into the Common Room. He sighed, and poked Ron. "Go ask Parvati."

Ron stared at him as if he were barmy.

Harry shrugged. "After Fleur, you can't humiliate yourself any worse."

Ron gave him a dirty look.

Hermione nodded. "She doesn't have a date, yet, so ask her," she urged.

"Show that Gryffindor courage," Harry added, slapping him on the back.

Ron took a deep breath, straightened, and walked straight over to the two girls.

Harry didn't hear what was said, but Ron's smile as he headed back to them said it all. He finally had a date to the Ball.

For Hermione and Harry, the Ball was four "months" away.

That night, in the Room, Hermione surprised him by slipping his hand inside her nightgown.

It felt just as wonderful as he had hoped. It wasn't long before she dropped her nightgown to her waist, and he enjoyed the "evening" exploring every square centimetre of her jubblies.

She did, too, when he started sucking on them . . . he had overheard some of the older boys saying that some girls liked that. Hermione apparently did, he could tell by the way she gripped his hair and the sounds she made as he toyed with the tips with his tongue. She wasn't big enough, yet, for him to push them close enough together so he could do both at the same time — but he was sure it would happen, eventually.

Harry and Hermione celebrated and enjoyed their winter holidays in the castle with the rest of the students.

Despite the First- through Third-years leaving for home for the hols, Gryffindor Tower was just as crowded as during term. Harry was sure it had shrunk slightly, too, as well as its inhabitants being so much rowdier than usual.

George's and Fred's Canary Creams turned out to be quite popular; people kept changing into canaries all over the place. It didn't take long for the remaining Gryffindors to mistrust food offered them, for fear a Canary Cream, or the potion that did the change, was concealed inside.

That Monday, the twins confided to Harry that they were now working on developing something else. Hermione, who was with him at the time, spoke up. "You need a candy that reverses your gender for an hour or two."

They all had looked at her in shock.

She shrugged, "Haven't you ever wondered what it was like on the other side?" She smirked. "I'm sure there are more than a few couples who might like to experiment." She pursed her lips, thinking. "It should be easier than the canary ones, too. All you're doing, really, is flipping the 'Y' chromosome for an 'X', not rewriting large segments of the DNA."

"X?" said one twin.

"Y?" said the other.

"DNA?" they carolled.

Both had extremely puzzled looks.

Hermione smirked, again. "I'll have my parents send you one of my biology books on chromosomes and gender."

They both nodded slowly, and started for their dorm-room.

Harry decided to never to accept so much as a crisp from the twins in future.

"It's the quiet ones," Fred confidentially said to George.

"They're always reading books," replied George.

"Makes you wonder just what books they are reading, doesn't it, my ugly brother?"

"Yes, my less intelligent brother, it certainly does."

He couldn't hear anything else they said.

In the Room that night, Harry and Hermione progressed their relationship to oral sex. To Hermione's delight, Harry had an unusually long tongue. To Harry's delight, Hermione did not have a gag reflex. And both loved the taste of the other.

Harry was amazed to see that Hermione was hairless below the waist. It turned out that there was a special spell for that. He approved.

"I wonder if magic has something to do with the taste?" she mused. "According to my readings, our meat-heavy diet should make your semen taste bitter, not the fruity one you have, Harry."

He just shrugged. This was all news to him. His only concern had been that if it tasted bad to her she might refuse to do it again, so he had prayed that it always tasted good. Apparently, magic had decided that was a command and gave him his wish.

Hermione quickly developed the habit of starting Harry's "morning" with oral sex, which he then reciprocated.

Knowing they were alone, with the Room always pleasantly warm, and their new familiarity with each other's body, Hermione had suggested they adopt a nudist lifestyle. The only time they put on clothes was during potions, to prevent accidents.

Harry had an almost constant bar-on, to Hermione's amusement. Which she encouraged with occasional touches and strokes.

It did make their dancing practices a bit more fun, though, as he regularly. . . decorated . . . her stomach. Which she also encouraged by holding him tighter, and pressing and rubbing her hips against him at irregular intervals during their practices. Occasionally, she seemed to be making a game of how often she could get that to happen in one session.

The night before Christmas Day, they entered the Room to discover only one bedroom-ensuite, with a much larger bed, tub, and shower.

Hermione's face was almost tomato-red in colour, as she had, as usual, been the one to call forth the room. "I didn't ask for only one bedroom," she exclaimed, "Just the same rooms as always with Professor Hogwarts!"

Apparently, her subconscious had modified her 'request'!

She didn't change it though.

From the way his face felt as hot as it did when he was working on Aunt 'Tunia's garden on a hot summer day in Little Whinging, he thought his face was probably as red as hers.

Unfortunately, it didn't have time to fade.

The Professor made them each learn the appropriate contraceptive charm. S/he ignored their protests that they weren't ready for that level of intimacy, yet. "It is better to know it and not need it, then need it and not know it!" The Professor said.

"But all the girls in the Dorm are taking a contraceptive potion once a month," Hermione protested.

Harry thought he was about to pass out, surely all the blood in his body was in his John Thomas!

The Professor stared at her. "You are spending fourteen days of time in this Room every night. While you are not aging, who knows for sure how that time is affecting that potion."

After a blank stare, Hermione had set-to with determination to master the charm as quickly as possible. She then made sure that Harry knew his, too. If they both had a contraceptive charm cast on them, they were doubly protected.

It took them more than once that "night" to relieve each other's "stress" about the new situation.

Then, the next "day," The Professor taught them several variations on the charm, each with a different expiration time limit from hours to days. "You can never be too prepared," s/he said.

Harry quickly grew to like sleeping with someone else, and waking together. Especially when it involved Hermione taking care of his morning "problem" while he took care of hers at the same time. He had discovered that girls wake with a similar need, it just wasn't obvious to the world.

Starting the "day" with what Dean called a blow-job just made the day better, somehow.

It wasn't all fun and games, of course, they continued with their studies in the Room. They finished their Fifth-year classes, and the required exams for their OWLs, during the night before Christmas.

According to Professor Hogwarts they did very well. They both achieved a minimum of Exceeding Expectations, with both getting several Outstandings.

Then he was waking in his Dorm room bed Christmas Day — with Dobby 's eyes only inches from his face. After almost screaming in shock, he quickly calmed down and explained to Dobby why he should not do that.

The best thing that can be said about starting Christmas Day with Dobby was that it wasn't boring. Strange and unpredictable, but not boring. Ron giving the excitable elf both a jumper and violet-coloured socks tempered the disappointment in the red-head that Harry had been building. His mate wasn't totally clueless.

They spent the day in a snowball fight with the other students, and enjoying hot cocoa and biscuits. Malfoy tried to ruin the day by baiting Hermione, but she turned the tables on him by pretending Professor Moody was behind him.

Then it was time for the Ball.

Ron had done his best with his dress robes, but it was a lacklustre attempt. At least, all the frill was gone. Surreptitiously, Harry cast a couple of charms to clean up the edges and make the robes a bit more presentable and much less . . . frilly.

As he had expected, Hermione was absolutely gorgeous — she didn't look like Hermione at all. Her normally bushy hair was sleek, shiny, and twisted up into an elegant knot at the back of her head. Her periwinkle-blue robes were a of some sort of material that almost floated around her. She held herself differently, too. Maybe more confidently?

Then they were at the Ball.

.o\O/o.

Dumbledore watched, puzzled, as the Ball opened and the Champions walked in with their dates. Harry and the Granger girl walked in together while Krum was with some girl from Beauxbatons.

He had given the mild love-potion to draw the Granger girl and Krum together to the house-elves, but it didn't seem to have worked. Well, Krum seemed to be paying more attention to Granger, but she was mostly ignoring him. Perhaps one or the other was resistant to that potion? It was rare, but sometimes if the person being potioned was already in love with someone else, the weak potion didn't work.

In which case, he needed to change to a stronger potion.

Harry had markedly improved in almost all his classes, which pleased his professors immensely, but was a bit disappointing to Albus. Apparently, nearly dying had indeed focused his mind quite intently on studying. That was fine, though. By next year, he was sure things would be back to normal, especially once he pried that Granger girl away from him. The boy would be isolated, his only friend that Weasley boy — who would once again distract him from his studies.

But with Krum out of the picture, at that point, the girl would head back to Harry . . . he would have to think on this.

.o\O/o.

Percy taking the place of Crouch was a surprise, especially as Harry had recently seen Crouch and Moody in Moody's office on the Marauder's Map. At least, he thought it was recently. He'd have to check his journal, it felt like a tremendously long time ago.

He nervously led Hermione to the dance floor after the feast in the transformed Great Hall, but as soon as The Weird Sisters started playing, his feet seemed to start off on their own. The two of them quickly forgot about anything other than their partner. Harry found himself once more lost in her eyes.

Unfortunately, he discovered that by dancing with Hermione while he had a bar-on all the time in the Room for the last eight "months", especially while naked, they had inadvertently trained his body to always have a bar-on when dancing. That is, his body said, "Oh? We're dancing? Time for a bar-on!"

Several songs passed by, not that Harry could say how many. Finally, at the end of one song, Hermione suggested they get something to drink. They walked over to the refreshments table, picked up a couple of glasses of punch, and looked around.

He spotted Ron and Parvati at a table not far away. Parvati looked very disgruntled, glancing at Ron and frowning. Ron was looking off into the dance floor and scowling.

Hermione noticed where he was looking, studied them for a moment, then sighed. "Come on," she said, and taking his hand, led him over there. On the way, she said, "It looks like Ron isn't going to dance with Parvati. You should ask her. Just because Ron is in a foul mood is no reason for her to have a bad time. When the song ends, look for Neville, he's dancing with Ginny. Ask the couple if they'd like to change partners, and dance with Ginny."

They got to the table just as the current song was ending. Hermione gave him a tug with her hand and looked from him to Parvati.

Sighing, he stepped over to the girl, "Parvati, may I have this dance with you?"

Her expression blossomed into delight and she jumped to her feet, "Yes, I would!" she exclaimed. She grabbed his hand and almost dragged him onto the dance floor.

He had forgotten he had a bar-on.

He felt himself blushing, but he didn't know what to say, so he just tried to ignore it.

"Wow!" Parvati said. "You're a great dancer! Who taught you?"

"Hermione and I have been practicing ever since the Ball was announced."

"Well," Parvati almost purred, rubbing tightly against him, "I'd say she did a very good job of teaching you!"

She had definitely noticed something long and stiff between them. He tried not to react, but he blushed, again.

"I'll be sure to tell her you said that."

While they danced, he looked for Neville, and soon spotted him. After all the practice he had had — eight months of almost nightly dancing in the Room! — it was easy to manoeuvre over to him and his partner.

When the song ended, as Hermione had asked him to, he turned to Neville and Ginny. "Hey, Neville, Ginny, how about switching for the next song?"

The two looked at each other and shrugged. "Sure," Neville said, moving over to take Parvati's hand. Harry took Ginny's hand, and they started off as the next song began.

She blushed when she noticed the same thing Parvati had. He blushingly tried to ignore it.

In the middle of the song, Harry saw one of the Durmstrang boys standing at the side of the dance floor, watching, and tapping his foot. Harry moved closer and caught his eye. The boy frowned at him. Harry smiled back raised his eyebrows at the boy, and then nodded his head at Ginny. He spun them around so the boy could get a better look at Ginny, then spun back and raised an eyebrow. The other grinned back at him and nodded.

When the song ended, The Durmstrang boy stepped over to them. "May I haff the next dance?" he asked Ginny.

Harry stepped back from Ginny and gave her an encouraging look. She sighed and slowly nodded.

As the new couple returned to the dance floor, Harry looked at Ron's table, but Hermione wasn't there. Looking around the hall he finally saw her by the Entry Doors. He headed over that way.

She handed him a glass, which was fortunate as he was very thirsty at that point. The Front Doors of the Entry Hall were open to the outside. "It's a bit hot in here, want to see what they've done to the gardens?" she suggested.

Spells had been cast to make the gardens warm and inviting instead of freezing cold of late December in Scotland. There were fluttering fairy-lights in the rose garden that winked and twinkled as they went down the front steps. They soon found themselves surrounded by bushes. There were winding, ornamental paths and large stone statues that he had never seen before, splashing water could be heard, which sounded like a fountain. There were carved stone benches at periodic intervals, most occupied by couples, sitting and talking. A few conversations were silent, but involved very close and intimate contact.

They hadn't gone very far when they heard an unpleasantly familiar voice.

". . . stop fussing, Igor," came the quiet peevish voice.

"Severus, you can't pretend you haven't noticed!" Karkaroff's, on the other hand, was anxious and hushed. They clearly did not want to be overheard. "It's been getting clearer and clearer. I am concerned, I can't deny it —"

"Then run off, flee," Snape said coldly. "I will make your excuses," he said with a hint of disdain. "I, however, will stay at Hogwarts," he concluded

The two came around the corner. Snape had his wand out and blasted two rosebushes apart, silently snarling. Squeals issued from the bushes, and dark shapes emerged from them.

"Ten points from Hufflepuff, Stebbins!" Snape snarled as a boy ran past them pulling his robes into place. "And ten points from Ravenclaw, too, Fawcett!" as a girl rushed past, her hands over her face and her robes falling down from where they had been hiked to her waist.

"And what are you two doing?" he added, catching sight of Harry and Hermione on the path ahead him. Karkaroff looked discomfited to see them standing there, Harry saw. The foreign Headmaster's hand was nervously winding his goatee around his finger.

"Walking," Hermione said quietly, clutching Harry's arm.

Snape glared at them. "Keep walking, then!" he sneered. He brushed past them, his cloak billowing out behind him. Karkaroff hurried after Snape, giving them a mistrustful glance as he passed.

They stared after the two until they were no longer in sight. "What's got Karkaroff all worried?" Harry said slowly. "And when did he and Snape get on first-name terms?"

They heard another squeal, and points taken from two more students.

As they continued, they found a large stone reindeer, behind which were sparkling jets of water on a tall fountain. They could just make out the shadowy outlines of two enormous people on a stone bench further ahead, watching the water in the moonlight. Then Harry heard Hagrid speak.

Hermione pushed him a bit into the rosebushes behind the stone reindeer and frowned, listening.

Harry tried to ignore what he was hearing, and instead watched a beetle crawling along the stone reindeer's back. He wasn't very successful at not hearing what was said.

The ensuing conversation with Madam Maxime was interesting, but nothing really too surprising. That Maxime refused to acknowledge what was readily apparent to anyone with common sense was not all that surprising, either, when he thought about it.

After Maxime stalked off in one direction and Hagrid the other, Harry and Hermione decided that maybe the gardens weren't the quiet haven they had thought. Back inside the Hall, Parvati, Padma, and Ginny were sitting at a distant table with a whole crowd of Beauxbatons' boys. Ginny was dancing with Krum. Ron was still at a table far removed from the dance floor, scowling at the world.

After a brief respite, Harry and Hermione once more ventured onto the dance floor.

The Weird Sisters ended their last song almost exactly at midnight, and the Ball came to a close. By then he had danced with nearly every girl in his year in Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw, every Fourth-year girl who had a date and stayed for the Ball, as well as a respectable number of Fifth- and Sixth-years. He had even danced with a handful of girls from Slytherin! Apparently, word of his . . . "problem" . . . had spread and they wanted to check it out. Several seemed reluctant to let him go.

Many couples were openly wishing the Ball had lasted longer, but all were slowly heading back to their Common Rooms. Some were taking routes that started them in opposite directions to their dorms. They wouldn't arrive for quite some time. The Prefects on duty tonight were more than a little bit too distracted, themselves, to pay too close attention to catching students out after the extended curfew.

Harry and Hermione were halfway up the Entry Hall Grand Staircase when they heard Cedric Diggory call out "Hey — Harry!"

Turning to look, Harry could see Cedric and Cho in the Entry Hall below.

"Yeah?" said Harry, and raised his eyebrow as Cedric ran up the stairs.

Cedric looked as though he didn't want to say anything in front of Hermione. After a brief pause, he shrugged. "Listen," Cedric said in a low voice, "I owe you for telling me about the dragons. The golden egg you have? Does it screech and wail when you open it?"

"Yeah," said Harry, nodding.

"Well . . . take a bath, right?"

"Huh?"

"Take a bath — um — with the egg, and — um — just think things over in the water?" He raised his eyebrows suggestively. "It'll help . . . trust me."

Harry stared at him, nonplussed. "Why? Didn't The Prophet tell the details about the Second Task?"

"Not . . . exactly . . .," he whispered evasively. "Tell you what," Cedric said furtively, "That statue of Boris the Bewildered on the fifth floor? The fourth door to the left is the Prefects' Bathroom. Password's 'pine fresh.' Hmm?"

He grinned at Harry again and rushed back down the stairs to Cho.

Harry and Hermione exchanged puzzled looks. That had been extremely weird.

Harry shrugged. "We can figure it out tonight."

They resumed their walk to the dorms.

When they climbed through the Portrait hole, they made sure that a Prefect saw them going up the stairs to their dorm-rooms. They didn't want anyone suspecting they weren't in their beds tonight.

It was well after one by the time they entered the Room of Requirement, and they were both very tired. However, once they started to snog in bed, that lethargy disappeared. Snogging slowly moved into fondling, and fondling led to their now customary sixty-nine position as each tried to outdo the other at making the other feel good.

Somewhere along the way, he told Hermione about dancing and always having a bar-on. He brought it up reluctantly because he thought she might be angry about it. Plus, it would lead to problems, later, he thought, when she did hear about it from her roommates. However, apparently, she thought it was hilarious that all those other girls had danced with him just to check out the rumour of his bar-on, and how large it was.

Later, after he had brought her to a howling climax, and before he could move to give her a late-night snack directly down her throat, she stopped him. "I want to give you something special, tonight," she said huskily, pulling him up to kiss him.

Harry had thought nothing could feel better than having her lips against his crotch and his John Thomas halfway down her throat as he climaxed. She proved him wrong.

Shagging, he decided, was far superior.

And shagging they did.

Several times.

When she passed out, he panicked until he remembered one of the older students bragging about his girlfriend passing out after an intense shag. Still, when he started to pull out, she reflexively pulled him right back in — and did that every time all night long. He lost count of how times he climaxed.

The next "morning", they were both walking funny as they moved around the bedroom doing their morning routines. Seeing the long white stains dripping down her legs as Hermione walked around made Harry delay the start of their breakfast for quite some time.

"Much as I enjoy this," she said after the third time, "we're gonna have to get dressed or we won't have time for any lessons today."

They were surprised to discover that it was a Beach "Day" when they left their room.

They celebrated their new status throughout the day. Doing it with her bent over the breakfast table until she passed out was kinky. Cleaning the remains of their breakfast off of her with his tongue while she was passed out was fun, too, which woke her up.

The pool was fun, the ocean was awkward with the waves breaking their rhythm or plain just knocking them over, the reclining beach-chairs were fun, and the beach . . . well, they got sand in places they never expected — plus, it was very abrasive.

Lesson learned: Shagging on the beach was not as romantic as it sounded.

It took another long soak in the pool to make shagging as much fun as it had been.

Hermione passing out didn't happen every time, but it was a common experience, they discovered.

It had to be magic that was letting them shag so much, they concluded while getting their breath back and just revelling in the feel of each other. "You know," Hermione said, her head lying on his arm, "my mother told me most men require a period of time between shags to recover, it's called the refractory period."

Her parents were very progressive regarding sex and making sure their daughter was well-educated in the subject, it seemed. Unlike Harry who only had rumours from porn-magazines and other male students for reference.

She said they were swingers, not that he knew what that was.

She traced a random pattern on his chest with her fingers. "It usually grows longer each time until they can't perform any more without a long rest." She looked up into Harry's face. "You don't seem to have that problem." She glanced at her crotch. "Not to mention the sheer volume of what you deliver each time." She smiled looked down. "Of course, the means of delivery is pretty impressive, too." She giggled. "I believe the romance novels all say, 'hung like a horse' . . . do you think your agent did a bit of meddling?"

He just stared at her, not knowing how to react or what to say.

She laughed and hugged him.

.o\O/o.