Summary:Champions Selection. Drunk party games that lead to semi-sexy shenanigans. What's not to love?
Chapter TextCHAPTER SIX
Harry stood before the imposing gates of Malfoy Manor, his heart beating fast with anticipation. He had received a letter from Narcissa, assuring him that Lucius was abroad and the staff would not be an issue.
He raised his hand to knock on the gate, but before he could even make contact, a shimmering pulse of blue appeared and formed a solid door in front of him. With a soft click, the black iron gates swung open, inviting him inside.
As he walked up the grand pathway towards the manor, Harry couldn't help but admire the perfectly manicured gardens on either side. Proud peacocks paraded around, their iridescent feathers catching the sunlight and adding to the air of opulence. A sense of nervous excitement filled Harry as he approached the front doors, wondering what awaited him inside.
As Harry approached the door, he saw the tall wooden entrance open and a tiny elf was there to meet him.
"Good evening, Lord Potter," the short elf said. He looked to be a three-foot-tall elderly elf with wisps of grey that had been combed over to cover his bald scalp. "If you would remove your coat I will take it to the cloak room as you greet the lady in the drawing room."
Harry gracefully removed his overcoat and crossed the grand hall, taking a sharp left into the drawing room.
The spacious room was lined with elegant bookshelves, filled with leather-bound volumes and antique trinkets. The warm sunlight filtered in through three large windows, offering a breathtaking view of the lush garden beyond. Sitting upon one of two plush sofas was Narcissa, dressed in a stunning lowcut blue gown adorned with intricate gold embroidery and sparkling gemstones.
As Harry approached, he couldn't help but admire how radiant and alluring she looked, like a woman in the prime of her beauty. He noticed a faint hint of a smile on her lips as he drew closer. Narcissa gracefully rose from the sofa and extended her hands to Harry, who clasped them gently and gave a respectful bow.
"Lady Malfoy," he said.
She chuckled and motioned for Harry to sit.
"Please, I thought after our last," she paused for a second. "Meeting," she continued, "that I told you to call me Narcissa."
Harry smiled.
"Of course, Narcissa." he tried to focus his magic onto the tip of his tongue as he said her name. The faintest trace of goosebumps appeared on her arm. Narcissa quickly rubbed her arms as she smiled at Harry.
"Thank you," she said. "I am sure that you are wondering why I've asked you here?"
"Well, your letter stated that it was an invitation for cake and a pleasant conversation."
At the moment three trays of cake appeared on the table that sat next to them. Harry smiled as he picked up the cream coloured cake with a reddish swirl through it and bit down--it was delicious. He looked over at Narcissa who was politely nibbling on a tiny cupcake.
Once the pair had finished eating their cake, they sat in silence. Harry looked around the gallery and was truly amazed at some of the portraits that were in the room.
"Do you have any portraits up?" Harry asked.
Narcissa pursed her lips together and gazed around the room.
"No. I am a Black and not a Malfoy. It's some ancient pureblood tradition of only the "true" Malfoys are to have portraits up. There are plenty of portraits of Lucius and Draco together. In Lucius" study there is a portrait of the two of them together, but there is, no evidence that I am married to Lucius in this house. If you took out my belongings from my bedroom. There would be just one more empty room in this big empty house."
Harry felt a surge of emotion as he looked at her, knowing that if he said the wrong words she would break completely. He reached over and took her delicate hand in his own, feeling the warmth radiating from it despite its trembling.
"You're right", he said, looking her directly in the eyes with all the intensity of his soul. "Without you, this place would be nothing more than an empty shell with no spark of beauty."
His heart skipped a beat as she beamed at him as her thumb rubbed the back of his hand.
"Thank you, Harry," she said. "I... you know just what to say to a woman." She leaned over towards him. "It makes a mature woman such as me to think of the kind of experiences a young man such as yourself has gotten. Especially if our last dalliance was any indication."
Harry felt his breath catch in his throat as Narcissa's hand slowly climbed up the side of his leg. As her hand reached his thigh, he looked deep into her mesmerizing grey eyes and it felt like time itself had stopped. He could hear nothing but the sound of his racing heart and he could feel the weight of the atmosphere pressing down on him like a heavy blanket.
Narcissa leaned closer to Harry, her cleavage now tantalizingly close to him. She whispered something that Harry couldn't quite make out. His breathing suddenly became shallow, and he found himself wanting to reach out and touch her soft skin. He could feel an oh-so familiar heat surge to life in his chest.
Without warning, Harry and Narcissa surged towards the other, locked in a passionate embrace, their mouths tasting and exploring the others". Their hands moved feverishly across each other's bodies as if they couldn't get enough. When they finally tore apart, barely able to breathe, Narcissa uttered the words that had been on both of their minds: "To my bedroom."
They stumbled into the darkly opulent room, tearing off clothes with almost animalistic intensity. With a smirk, Harry grabbed either side of her dress at the opening that revealed her mouth-watering cleavage and tore it in half. She moaned loudly from pleasure and shock as hot sparks of magic shivered through her body from his touch. Her breath came faster as he reached for the tie that tied her dress around her waist and yanked it open, exposing her red satin bra and panties. His fingers curled around her panties, ripping them away as she gasped in delight. Neither was able to truly take in the other's naked form because Harry pulled her towards him, his lips meeting hers again in a fierce kiss.
He pushed her back onto the bed, his hands roaming over her body, eliciting soft moans from her throat. He couldn't believe how amazing this was, that he was here, with Narcissa Malfoy, he thought that their first dalliance was merely a fluke. But his cock ached to feel her warm depths again.
She reached down and took his cock in her hand, stroking him with firm, practised movements. He groaned at the sensation, feeling his desire for her threaten to consume him entirely. Harry's fingers found their way between her legs, rubbing her clit as he slid two fingers inside her. She arched her back and moaned loudly, the pure pleasure of it sending sparks of magic out in every direction.
"Fuck, you're amazing," she gasped, as she pulled him towards her as they lowered to the bed. Her hand pumps his cock, his fingers sending shockwaves of pleasure from her core through her body.
When he felt his finger slicken from her juices, he moved up her body, his eyes finding her as he perched his body above her. He looked deep into her grey eyes, stroking her face as he lined his cock against her entrance. His cock pulsed in pleasure, his hips rocking into her even deeper as he grabbed her waist tightly. With a smile and a nod from the goddess in his arms, he pushed in, her walls quickly welcoming him.
Narcissa moaned loudly as she felt him sinking inside of her, shuddering in pleasure with every movement. The electricity surrounding them reached an incredible intensity as Harry moved faster, their breathing and moans echoing between them. The feeling of being connected to Narcissa was so intense, it was as if their souls were intertwined in a blissful bond.
Harry thrusted deeper and harder with every passing second, the heat of their combined pleasure coursing through him. He bared down as his orgasm began to swell, biting his lip to stop himself from screaming out in pleasure. He pulled out and flipped Narcissa onto her hands and knees--remembering that she had a kink for a little rough play--Harry grabbed her a handful of her lusciously long blonde hair and yanked backwards as he slipped his cock back inside.
She moaned out and Harry could feel her walls clamp around him.
"Do you like being treated like an animal, Cissy?" Harry said, trialling the nickname. She only moaned in response. "Good, then you should love being fucked like one."
He then started thrusting into her, using her hair and her left hip for leverage as he plunged deeper into her. Harry could see her perky breasts swaying back and forth, her skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat, her breathy moans and the wet sound of their sexes meeting melded with the smell of their intimacy. Enjoying the moment, Harry felt a burst of heat pulse outwards as he raised a hand and brought it down. As it bounced off of Narcissa's peachy bottom she groaned, burying her head into her pillows.
"Fuuuccckkk!"
He continued fucking her like that for a few moments more before he slipped out for just a moment as he flipped her body onto her side, lifting her leg and plunging back into her depths. Narcissa let out a soul-shattering moan that echoed off the walls as Harry pushed even further into her than before. Her eyes blazed with wild intensity as she clawed at his chest, the shock of the sensation rippling through her body.
"W-what the fuck?!" she cried out, desperately trying to comprehend how he could be so deep within her, brushing against every sensitive nerve, filling her up and vanishing just as quick as he returns.
He locked eyes with her as he felt his peak nearing and he knew he couldn't hold it off this time. Her grey eyes glistened as they stared back, she bit her lip and nodded her head.
"Ruin me, Potter! Ruin my marriage! Ruin me for anyone who dare look at me the way you did that day in the stands!" she cried, her cheeks red as though she had surprised herself in saying that.
But that is all Harry needed to hear. His thrusts became a frenzied blur as his orgasm crashed over him, pushing him closer and closer to the edge of pleasure. His cock twitched inside Narcissa with each pulse of pleasure as his seed filled her waiting womb. She tightened and released around him, milking every last drop of energy that Harry had to offer. Finally, a pulse of power burst from Harry's chest and was sucked in by Narcissa's pussy, causing her stomach to bloat before she sighed in contentment.
Finally, he fell beside her, panting heavily as he pulled her close to him, her head nestling into his neck. His hand moved from her hair and trailed its way down her spine, the heat radiating from their embrace.
Narcissa sighed loudly in contentment, her eyes finally drifting shut as she melted into Harry's embrace. As their breathing slowed, Harry looked over at Narcissa.
"You truly are incredible, Narcissa. I didn't expect such a well-spoken lady to be so… you've surprised me Narcissa. You are a perfect housewife, catering to the needs of your wizard, but you're also not afraid to be wild. I like that."
Narcissa smiled, a blush and a mischievous glint in her eye as she replied, "We should probably do this again sometime?"
Harry chuckled, "I think that we should do it all the time."
Narcissa simply smiled as she rested her head back against his chest. As he slowly drifted off, his thoughts drifted to the idea of binding more witches to him. He definitely wouldn't have felt opposed to having Narcissa join his, he guessed if he had to give it a name; his harem.
He already had his mother of this world bound to him, and the wonderful Samantha as well. He was already making headway with Tonks before September came, so he knew he wouldn't be seeing her till Christmas, and, as he hand traced the curve of Narcissa Malfoy's alabaster skin, he knew that in time, the vixen may want more than just a good fuck from Harry.
If he wanted the power to flush Voldemort from this world, even though he was no longer the Boy Who Lived, he still felt it was his duty to protect everyone. He needed to bind more witches to give him power. It seemed that with each binding, he was able to use the witch's unique abilities.
He needed to get stronger.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Harry had made note of several things that were similar to his own world, and those that were different; this world had an attack by death eaters at the World Cup. Moody didn't make an appearance in this world as a professor at Hogwarts. This caused concern: will events still play out the same if important things are different? Cedric was apart of the Death Eaters, there was no evidence of Barty Crouch Jr. making an appearance. Snape did not work at Hogwarts—in this world, after the separate attacks that put James in the hospital (until his death) and killed Neville's parents, Snape disappeared to the south of France to become the apprentice of a master potioneer and alchemist.
As he sat in the Great Hall, he felt his heart beat quick. Almost hum in his chest as he stared across the hall.
Amongst the row of four house tables, the likes of Durmstrang Academy and Beauxbatons now filled the ranks. Dumbledore stood at the front of the hall with the other head's of the school, and announce the tri-wizard tournament.
Barty Crouch Sr spoke of the rules, that there would be a line of maturity drawn around the Goblet to ensure those that had not reached a maturity that the faerie law dictates and has outwardly projected onto the wizards body. Meaning if someone hadn't entered their second stage of maturity, then they couldn't even step over the line.
Harry had spotted Fleur Delacour, as beautiful and as slender as ever arrived with her French kin. The French beauty was like a lithe and graceful swan, with her slender frame and elegant curves. Her iconic beauxbaton uniform, a light blue dress with delicate buttons along the front, hugged her top-heavy figure in all the right places. The dress flowed effortlessly into a pair of matching blue high heels, elongating her toned legs and accentuating the mesmerizing blue depths of Fleur's eyes. Golden locks of blonde hair cascaded down her back, catching the light like twinkling stars in the night sky. She was a vision of effortless glamour and sophistication, radiating an otherworldly aura that left those around her enraptured. Including Harry.
Harry thought that this uniform was a little ridiculous, but knew that it was simply apart of their "away" uniform, and there usual one was rather more subdued and practical for classroom activities.
Sitting at the Slytherin table was the Bulgarian troop, of which the Quidditch star Victor Krum sat, right next to Draco and his cronies. Victor's lean frame resembled Harry's, but his muscles were now more defined and bulky since he had stopped training for the Quidditch season. Sweeping to the side, his dark hair was longer on top and neatly styled. A few days' worth of stubble adorned his chin, adding a ruggedness to his appearance.
Harry's senses did not clue him in on either of their strengths, but he assumed that this was because they either weren't as strong as he thought. Or, that they were capable of hiding their magical aura.
"Do you think that they'd let me enter?" Neville asked in a hushed voice to Harry.
He knew that his best friend would somehow find his name spat out of the goblet.
And Harry would have to spend the rest of the year trying to keep his friend from dying.
He masked his anxiety with a smirk.
"It doesn't hurt to try. If you try putting your name in, I'll put mine in."
The two fist bumped as they watched the rest of the celebrations.
In the time between the new schools joining Hogwarts and the night of the champion selection, Neville and Harry tried popping their names into the Goblet. The situation caused both of them to be met with surprise, as Harry was able to step over the line to pop his name in, but when he turned around, he saw that Neville was meeting resistance as he tried to step over the line.
Harry went for morning runs through the Forbidden Forest and around the Black Lake. To his surprise, Daphne joined him on these runs. Here Harry learned about how her parents had been juggling the many betrothal requests regarding her younger sister, Astoria. About the gossip in Slytherin house. On the days where they felt an itch to release their magic, the two would practice their magic in the woods, duelling one another as friendly as possible (neither wanted to have to visit the infirmary and explain what happened).
On the rare occasion, the two would test the others access to their mage magic.
Daphne had expressed intrigue in the new types of mage magic Harry could now freely possess--his fire magic seemed more potent than before.
Harry was performing well in lessons, using his free time to research the political sphere. He wanted to be armed for the decisions that house Potter was voting for. And how and where its money went and what it was spent on.
He had interacted very little with the students of the other schools, but he had, however, spoken to Hermione in the library. He had asked for her help with the history of mages. They'd spent an evening or two looking through books together. He had never missed his best friend more, than in those moments with her doppelganger.
She still seemed cold towards him, but he enjoyed spending time with her. And, apart of him thought that she felt the same. She seemed eager to help him the one time that Neville had accompanied Harry to research the Triwizard tournament.
Then came the night of the champion selection.
The Great Hall buzzed with anticipation as the goblet, filled with flames of brilliant blue, cast flickering shadows on the enchanted ceiling above. Harry and Neville sat side by side at the Gryffindor table, their eyes glued to the magical artifact that would soon reveal the names of the champions. Not too far away the whispers of Fred and George taking bets on which Hogwarts student will be selected.
"Can you imagine being chosen?" Harry heard Ron ask. The boy hadn't been able to get past the age line, but Dean in their year had. Ron had not stopped looking at Dean in awe since he had let slip of entering his name.
Neville hesitated for a moment before responding, "I don't know if I could handle it, mate. I think I've changed my mind. The pressure, the attention... it's all a bit overwhelming. I already get enough as the bloody Boy-Who-Lived, I think… I'm glad that I couldn't enter my name."
Harry nodded sagely at his friend.
"Who needs eternal glory when you could get the same excitement from living a normal life, eh?"
Just then, Dumbledore approached the Goblet, his voice cutting through the chatter in the hall as he prepared to announce the chosen champions. Silence descended upon the room, thick with tension as every student held their breath.
"Thank you for those kind words," Dumbledore's loud and commanding words to the ministry officials and head teachers from the visiting schools. The Goblet's flame began changing colour from its usual blue to a bright and shimmering purple, that quickly flickered silver as a slip of paper puffed into the air. Dumbledore snatched it out of the air, "From Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, we have Fleur Delacour!" Dumbledore exclaimed, his voice echoing throughout the hall.
The beautiful witch with long, silvery-blonde hair stood gracefully, her eyes meeting Harry's for a brief moment, sending a shiver down his spine. He couldn't help but feel drawn to her, but any thoughts or feelings the witch may have had, were concealed behind a cool, flirtatious smile.
She was just as beautiful in this world, except she seemed to radiate delicate beauty. Her perky breasts pressed against the watery dress, pulled in at her waist and swelled into her perfect derriere. Harry felt wrong for appreciating her somehow. As though he were somehow betraying someone.
As he gave Fleur her slip of paper, the crowds cheering for her, she was directed to head down into the trophy room through the corridor that lead into the ground just to the left of the Main Hall.
Then the Goblet of Fire shifted colours again.
"From Durmstrang Institute, our champion is Victor Krum!" Dumbledore announced, the name punctuating the stillness within the hall.
The students" whispers swirled around Harry as he watched Fleur disappear as Victor stood from the Slytherin table, the snakes and Bulgarians cheering for him as he stomped his way to the front to receive his paper. A quick glance to his side told him that as Neville's gaze followed them, his expression of relief that he would not be taking part quickly mixed to envy.
"Would you really want to be one of them?" Harry asked Neville quietly, as their eyes remained fixed on the second champion disappear into the trophy room.
"I don't know… I think I would like to ask them both to a duel. I'd heard about Fleur and Victor from the duelling circuit. They were both pretty astounding. Victor bowed out after he made it onto the Quidditch team. Fleur stopped attending tournaments about two years ago. No one knows why." Neville said, a flame flickering in his eyes.
The Neville of this world was desperate to duel two very skilled individuals. The Neville of his world at this age couldn't even disarm someone.
Just as Harry pondered the sight of Neville duelling with Fleur and Victor, he hadn't noticed the Goblet change colour again, and spit out a rather plain piece of ripped parchment, and Dumbledore's voice boomed, "And from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry... Harry Potter!"
The hall erupted into a cacophony of disbelief and shock. Harry felt his heart leap into his throat, his palms growing clammy as a cold sweat broke out across his brow. His emerald eyes widened, searching for any sign that this was some cruel prank. He quickly scolded his face before his shock could be seen by anyone. He knew that he put his name in, but it was on a whim. He knew that Neville was going to somehow be in the tournament, if things were going to be the same as they were in his world. But… Somehow Harry is a champion in the tournament again. As the Gryffindor's all cheered for him, his gaze snapped across the hall, where he locked eyes with Daphne Greengrass, who gave him a nod as if to say "go on. You deserve this".
"Harry!" Neville exclaimed, his own astonishment mirrored in Harry's gaze. "It's you!"
Harry gave his best smile and stood up, and as he walked to the front to collect his slip of paper, his mind raced as he tried to mentally rearrange his plan.
Although, he thought, being dismissed from lessons would be a boon.
As Harry approached the front, he allowed he allowed his magic to feed into his senses, fuelling them, expanding them as he got closer to Albus Dumbledore. And he instantly stopped feeding his magic into it.
The second he felt Dumbledore's presence, he felt his nose threaten to burst, his magic began to violently shake within him, almost as though it was frightened of the Supreme Mugwump.
Only Dumbledore can truly take Voldemort down. If I can't bare to be in his presence. Then I am not strong enough.
Dumbledore appraised Harry as he approached, looking him up and down and smiling as he handed the slip of paper. "You may join the other champions in the trophy room."
As he walked, his mind raced with how to increase his power. What things should he research—then he realised that memory recovery magic would be a great start. Find out what he has forgotten. And as the hall erupted in gasps, he whipped his head around to see an ornate slip of paper burst into the air, the ends of it singed from the flames. Dumbledore quickly snatched it, and the hall waited with baited breath.
And Harry felt his heart sink.
Dumbledore scanned the paper. Harry could have sworn he saw the man's eyes scan the room. Checking everyone's face as he addressed the Hall.
"Ah, it appears we have a most unexpected development," Dumbledore announced, his voice tense but steady. "The Goblet of Fire has chosen a fourth champion... Neville Longbottom!"
Gasps and whispers erupted throughout the hall, a cacophony of shock and disbelief. But mostly masked by cheers from the boisterous Gryffindor's.
Harry watched as Neville stepped into view, accepting the parchment from the Headmaster.
"Mr. Longbottom, please join Mr. Potter in the Champion chambers," Dumbledore instructed, his voice firm yet gentle.
Neville hesitated for a moment. Then the weight of everyone watching, and the pressure of the Boy-Who-Lived settled. He straightened his back and gave a wide grin to the professor.
"I don't know how this happened, Professor," He stated. "I didn't put my name in, but I will go to the trophy room."
Without another word, he began walking towards Harry.
Once the two were standing side by side, they couldn't help but laugh to themselves as they entered the room filled with trophies and awards.
Once they had stepped inside, both Fleur and Victor looked to them.
"Do zey… wish for us to return?" Fleur asked as she stepped towards the pair. She took the two in, her eyes lingering a little too long on the two.
Harry felt the slightest pull on his mind to admire Fleur, but he quickly dismissed it as Victor stepped forward.
"Do they?" he asked.
Harry shook his head.
"You're looking at the chosen Champion of Hogwarts,' Harry offered then motioned his hand to Neville. "And here, you have an unexpected name that the Goblet just spat out."
Fleur and Krum looked to Neville with wide eyes.
"Did you put your name in?" Krum asked.
Neville shook his head, "couldn't get past the age line. I… I have no idea how this happened."
"Someone must have put your name in. But why?" Krum asked, scratching his facial hair. "It should be impossible to have a fourth Champion."
Fleur nodded in agreement.
"Something is amiss here."
Before they could talk more, the teaching staff of all three schools entered the trophy room, ministry officials tagging behind.
The Champions quickly dispersed and stood in a line as they were affronted with questions.
Madame Maxime had drawn herself up to her full, and considerable, height. The top of her handsome head brushed the candle filled chandelier, and her gigantic black-satin bosom swelled.
"What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?" she said imperiously.
"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore," said Professor Karkaroff. He was wearing a steely smile, and his blue eyes were like chips of ice. "Two Hogwarts champions? I don't remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions — or have I not read the rules carefully enough?"
He gave a short and nasty laugh.
"C'est impossible," said Madame Maxime, whose enormous hand with its many superb opals was resting upon Fleur's shoulder.
"'Ogwarts cannot 'ave two champions. It is most injust."
"We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore," said Karkaroff, his steely smile still in place, though his eyes were colder than ever. "Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."
Professor Dumbledore was now looking down at Neville, who looked right back at him, trying to discern the expression of the eyes behind the half-moon spectacles.
"Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Neville?" he asked calmly.
"No," said Neville. He was very aware of everybody watching him closely. Karkaroff made a soft noise of impatient disbelief in the shadows.
"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?" said Professor Dumbledore, ignoring the Durmstrang Headmaster.
"No," said Neville vehemently.
"Ah, but of course 'e is lying!" cried Madame Maxime. Karkaroff was now shaking his head, his lip curling.
"He could not have crossed the Age Line," said Professor McGonagall sharply. "I am sure we are all agreed on that —"
"Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz ze line," said Madame Maxime, shrugging.
"It is possible, of course," said Dumbledore politely
"Dumbledore, you know perfectly well you did not make a mistake!" said Professor McGonagall angrily. "Really, what nonsense! Harry could not have crossed the line himself, and as Professor Dumbledore believes that he did not persuade an older student to do it for him, I'm sure that should be good enough for everybody else!"
"Mr. Crouch . . . Mr. Bagman," said Karkaroff, his voice unctuous once more, "you are our — er — objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?"
Bagman wiped his round, boyish face with his handkerchief and looked at Mr. Crouch, who was standing outside the circle of the firelight, his face half hidden in shadow. He looked slightly eerie, the half-darkness making him look much older, giving him an almost skull-like appearance. When he spoke, however, it was in his usual curt voice.
"We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament."
"Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front," said Bagman, beaming and turning back to Karkaroff and Madame Maxime, as though the matter was now closed.
"I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students," said Karkaroff. He had dropped his unctuous tone and his smile now. His face wore a very ugly look indeed. "You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has two champions. It's only fair, Dumbledore."
"But Karkaroff, it doesn't work like that," said Bagman. "The Goblet of Fire's just gone out — it won't reignite until the start of the next tournament —"
"— in which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!" exploded Karkaroff. "After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!"
"Empty threat, Karkaroff," growled a voice from near the door.
"You can't leave your champion now. He's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?" Everyone turned around as Moody entered the room. He limped toward the fire, and with every right step he took, there was a loud clunk.
Harry felt a chill race up his spine. Was this Barty Crouch? Or was it the real Alastor Moody? If it was… why was he here? Moody wasn't the DADA teacher this year… it was some witch, Professor Jenkins, married to some famous wizard that Harry had never heard of. But she seemed to be a competent teacher. Due to not being in school at the start of term, he hadn't been there when she was introduced. But since arriving he had attended her lessons and they seemed to be within the same vein as Lupin's lessons.
"Convenient?" said Karkaroff. "I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody." Harry could tell he was trying to sound disdainful, as though what Moody was saying was barely worth his notice, but his hands gave him away; they had balled themselves into fists.
"Don't you?" said Moody quietly. "It's very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Longbottom's name in that goblet knowing he'd have to compete if it came out."
"Evidently, someone 'oo wished to give 'Ogwarts two bites at ze apple!" said Madame Maxime.
"I quite agree, Madame Maxime," said Karkaroff, bowing to her.
"I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards —"
"If anyone's got reason to complain, it's Longbottom," growled Moody, "but...funny thing... I don't hear him saying a word..."
"Why should 'e complain?" burst out Fleur Delacour, stamping her foot. " 'E 'as ze chance to compete, 'asn't 'e? We 'ave all been 'oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Ze honour for our schools! A thousand Galleons in prize money — zis is a chance many would die for, and we all know zat zis competition is going to be a challenge!" she then looked to Neville. " 'e says zat he did not put 'is name into ze Goblet. How did it spit 'is name?"
"Maybe someone's hoping Longbottom is going to die for it," said Moody, with the merest trace of a growl.
An extremely tense silence followed these words. Ludo Bagman, who was looking very anxious indeed, bounced nervously up and down on his feet and said, "Moody, old man... what a thing to say!"
"We all know Moody considers the morning wasted if he hasn't discovered six plots to murder him before lunchtime," said Karkaroff loudly. "Apparently he is now teaching the students of this school to fear assassination too. An odd quality in a leading auror that trains others."
"Imagining things, am I?" growled Moody. "Seeing things, eh? It was a skilled witch or wizard who put the boy's name in that goblet…"
"Ah, what evidence is zere of zat?" said Madame Maxime, throwing up her huge hands.
"Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object!" said Moody. "It would have needed an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle that goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the tournament... I'm guessing they submitted Longbottom's name under a fourth school, to make sure he was the only one in his category..."
"You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody," said Karkaroff coldly, "and a very ingenious theory it is — though of course, I heard you recently got it into your head that one of your birthday presents contained a cunningly disguised basilisk egg, and smashed it to pieces before realizing it was a carriage clock. So you'll understand if we don't take you entirely seriously…"
"There are those who'll turn innocent occasions to their advantage," Moody retorted in a menacing voice. "It's my job to think the way Dark wizards do, Karkaroff — as you ought to remember…"
"Alastor!" said Dumbledore warningly. Moody fell silent, though still surveying Karkaroff with satisfaction — Karkaroff's face was burning.
"How this situation arose, we do not know," said Dumbledore, speaking to everyone gathered in the room. "It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it. Both Harry and Neville have been chosen to compete in the Tournament. This, therefore, they will do…"
"Ah, but Dumbly-dorr —"
"My dear Madame Maxime, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it."
Dumbledore waited, but Madame Maxime did not speak, she merely glared. She wasn't the only one either. Karkaroff looked livid; Bagman, however, looked rather excited.
"Well, shall we crack on, then?" he said, rubbing his hands together and smiling around the room. "Got to give our champions their instructions, haven't we? Barty, want to do the honours?"
Mr. Crouch seemed to come out of a deep reverie.
"Yes," he said, "instructions. Yes . . . the first task . . ."
He moved forward into the firelight. Close up, Harry thought he looked ill. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes and a thin, papery look about his wrinkled skin.
"The first task is designed to test your daring," he told Neville, Harry, Fleur, and Viktor, "so we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard… very important…"
"The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges. The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with
their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests, and any subjects that require their attendance to complete said tests."
Mr. Crouch turned to look at Dumbledore.
"I think that's all, is it, Albus?"
"I think so," said Dumbledore, who was looking at Mr. Crouch
with mild concern. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?"
"No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry," said Mr. Crouch. "It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment…I've left young Weatherby in charge of the case files during my absence… Very enthusiastic… a little overenthusiastic, if truth be told…"
"You'll come and have a drink before you go, at least?" said Dumbledore.
"Come on, Barty, I'm staying!" said Bagman brightly. "It's all happening at Hogwarts now, you know, much more exciting here than at the office!"
"I think not, Ludo," said Crouch with a touch of his old impatience.
"Professor Karkaroff — Madame Maxime — a nightcap?" said Dumbledore.
But Madame Maxime had already put her arm around Fleur's shoulders and was leading her swiftly out of the room. Harry could hear them both talking very fast in French as they went off into the Great Hall. Karkaroff beckoned to Krum, and they, too, exited, though in silence.
"Neville, Harry, I suggest you go up to bed," said Dumbledore, smiling at both of them. "I am sure Gryffindor are waiting to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise."
Harry glanced at Neville, who nodded, and they left together. The Great Hall was deserted now; the candles had burned low, giving the jagged smiles of the pumpkins an eerie, flickering quality.
Neville turned to say something to Harry when he caught something behind Harry's shoulder and stopped himself. Then he grinned and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder.
"I'll wait by the doors, don't be too long. Like Professor Dumbledore said, we don't want to keep our housemates waiting."
Before Harry could respond, Neville had already walked off. Then he felt something chilly, yet comforting, reach out to him. He turned around to see Daphne Greengrass pushing herself off the wall she was just leaning on with her arms crossed and stepping towards him.
Once she was close enough, she smiled at him.
"I didn't think you were the kind to want all that attention on you?" She chided with a smirk.
Harry shrugged, "Neville would only put his name in if I did too. By the time I had put mine in, it was too late. Nev couldn't get past the age line that Dumbledore drew."
Her eyes widened at that.
"I did hear that people saw the great Boy-Who-Lived struggle to get his name in. But another boy in our year from your house did, didn't he?"
Harry nodded, 'Yeah, Dean Thomas. He's decent. If you give him a good look, you can tell the Faerie Law is taking its toll on him."
Daphne hummed her reply then looked Harry up and down.
"You look mature for your age too. But I wouldn't say that you had the aura of someone old enough to get over that line. Not even I could." She almost whispered the last part. And Harry couldn't help but sense jealousy in her tone.
Harry shrugged.
"Well, its too late now. I've been exempt from some lessons, so I have time to research and practice… I'm not supposed to ask help from the staff, and I think its bad form to ask the other Champions… so," he felt an awkwardness rush through him, as though he all of a sudden lost any confidence in talking to girls. "I was wondering…"
"You want my help?" she asked, folding her arms under her bosom and eyeing him with a smirk.
He shrugged with a smirk, trying to match her energy with false bravado.
"If you wouldn't mind?"
She hummed then offered him her hand.
"I'll help you, if you agree to stop holding back when we train outside."
Harry stared at her hand for a moment, then with a smile he shook it.
"Consider us at an accord," he said.
She smiled then rolled her eyes, "you better get to your party Champion, because if we're training together. You won't have a minute to relax after tonight."
Harry chuckled but caught himself when he saw that Daphne's classic 'Ice Queen' mask hid anything she might have been feeling.
So he nodded, "See you at first light. Make sure to wear something warm. It's getting cold out there."
She shrugged and walked past him, "Ice magic, remember?" she then gave him the quickest wink ever. "the cold's never bothered me."
As he watched the sway of her hips in her tight black skirt, he saw her wrap an arm around a younger looking girl who looked just like her, except, her face seemed cuter, almost ethereal. When they both turned to look at him before they left, Harry's breath caught in his throat. There was something… intense about the pair together.
A ball formed in his throat at the idea that the Greengrass daughters would be beholden to Draco one day. He hated that idea. It filled him with a fire to try and free them if he could. He didn't want that girl to be unhappy.
The Gryffindor's of this world partied so much harder than they did back in Harry's old world. There was alcohol in everyone's goblets (or any cup that the students could get their hands on) all students were drinking and enjoying themselves. Most first and second years had taken a sip out of a shared cup and quickly made their leave back to their dorms. One or two third years who felt like showing off stayed, but it quickly turned out that they couldn't handle their alcohol.
The sixth and seventh years all took a few bottles of alcohol at some point in the night and disappeared, leaving the fourth and fifth years alone. They moved all of the chairs around a table, and many bottles were placed around the room as they began to dance, sing and drink. Lots.
Things began to heat up when Lavender plonked a bottle on the middle of the table and demanded that everyone sit around it so they can play spin the bottle.
As the night unfolded with raucous laughter and spirited camaraderie. The bottle continued its spins, weaving through the circle of friends. Lavender, fuelled by the alcohol, became the unofficial ringleader, her dares growing more audacious with each turn. But the mixture of alcohol, excitement, and randy witches and wizards was enough to cause the atmosphere to become electrified, and there wasn't a person willing to play chicken with this game.
They'd been playing for almost an hour filled with trivial dares and truths--most embarrassing memory, kiss a body part of someone of the same sex, of the opposite sex, take a shot of firewhisky, etc. Katie, with a sly grin, dared Ron to impersonate Professor McGonagall for the next two turns. The room erupted into laughter as Ron, with exaggerated seriousness, mimicked the stern professor's mannerisms, earning cheers and applause from his friends everytime he opened his mouth--even if he wasn't the one being asked a truth or a dare, he made sure everyone knew Ron-McGonagall had something to say. Meanwhile, it was Hermione's turn to spin the bottle, and it landed on Lavender, reveling in the daring spirit of the night, she dared Lavender to confess a secret crush. With a playful smirk, she pointed to Dean with a sultry wink. But no one couldn't help but notice the blush on the darker boys face as his eyes fell to her dishevelled parting shirt.
As the bottle continued its rounds, the dares escalated in intensity. Fred, with a glint of mischief in his eyes, dared Angelina and Alicia to swap outfits for the next hour. The room erupted into laughter as the two girls, as the good sports they were, stripped the clothes they'd changed into for the party (Angelina wore a black a-line dress and Alicia was wearing a pair of tight jeans and a white crop top that perfectly fitted Alicia's frame, but Angelina, although just as athletic, was taller and had a behind that was far bigger than Alicia's), everyone cheered and whooped as the two helped the other squeeze into their new clothes. Even giving everyone a twirl, the twins giving extra loud whoops at that.
And as that hour passed, Lavender's shirt grew more disheveled, the top button now missing and revealing a hint of lace from her pink bra underneath. She twirled a strand of her hair with a mischievous smile playing on her lips. The hours of drinking and dancing to music from the radio had caused a gleam of sweat to glisten her body, which only caused attention to be drawn to the press of her plump breasts, giving off an air of alluring confidence.
"Dare, Lavender?" George asked, mischief dancing in his eyes.
She shot him a playful wink. "Bring it on, Weasley."
George exchanged a conspiratorial glance with Fred before announcing, "I dare you to give our new Champ' Neville a lap dance for one song."
Laughter erupted, and Lavender, undeterred, stood up with a saucy grin. She pulled a surprised Neville to his feet, and the room was filled with cheers as she danced around him, teasingly swaying her hips to the rhythm of a fast-paced song against his groin. She took extra care to slowly push him down, holding him up by his tie, her nose sliding along his as she almost pressed her lips against his, but bit his nose instead, letting go of his tie and letting him sit back down. Very red faced.
Lavender turned around to a series of applause from the gathered Gryffindors. She smiled and walked back to her seat, giving a wink to Dean as she did.
"Was that the best you could do, Weasley?"
The red headed wizard couldn't help but snicker as everyone gathered watched as Neville pulled a cushion to cover his groin.
"You alright there Nev?" Harry asked.
He shot him a dirty look, "shut up." But it was all a facade, as he immediately smiled and the two fist bumped.
Although neither had a crush on Lavender, they could appreciate when someone with her sex appeal did something like that to you.
Meanwhile, Fred had his eyes on Angelina and George on Alicia. They took turns daring each other to perform ridiculous stunts, from impersonating their favourite professors to attempting impromptu magic tricks that ended in comical failures. Through their dares, they managed to keep the atmosphere light and jovial.
In the midst of the chaos, Oliver Wood found himself daring Ron to reveal his most embarrassing childhood memory--which turned out to be walking in on his parents going at it near their family pond. The twins were not impressed to hear that. Harry was asked if he had ever been on a date with a girl, and it took him a moment but he told them the truth.
"No, I haven't ever been on a date."
Everyone looked at each other. Then Lavender stood up, bottle in her hand and pointed it at everyone.
"You all have a truth to answer. Raise your hand if you've ever been on a date. Romantic or otherwise. And daddy-daughter dates don't count!" She said giving a side-eye to Katie.
Almost every hand in the room flew into the air, with the exception of Hermione and Harry.
"Ronnikins, when did you go on a date?" Fred asked.
"I told you, the last visit to Hogsmeade last year, I invited Hannah Abbott. It was a nice date, ended with a little kiss. We've been flirting a little since. I was going to ask her to the hogsmeade weekend before Christmas, for your information!" Ron chided back, his words slurring slightly.
There were a few ribbing comments but otherwise the game resumed. The dares had become a little risque and some of the truths a little too revealing. But in the spirit of fun, no one seemed to mind. George, in a cheeky mood, dared Harry to give Parvati a peck on the cheek. Harry, knowing he'd done more itimate acts in much more taboo situations, complied and the room burst into laughter and teasing as Parvati's cheeks reddened in response.
With a mischievous glint in his eye, Fred raised the stakes even higher and dared Alicia and Angelina to kiss, still clad in each other's clothes. The crowd erupted into wild cheers and catcalls as the two women not only agreed, but also poured an unprecedented level of passion into the embrace. Their hands roamed hungrily over each other's curves, their bodies pressing together with a fierce intensity. As they moaned into the kiss, it was clear that this dare had ignited a scorching fire between them that seemed to be opening a door neither knew existed.
At one point Neville, his face flushed from embarrassment turned excitement turned alcohol, dared Katie to do a handstand for thirty seconds. Not one to back down from a challenge, she gamely attempted it - with some assistance from Harry who held her steady. Laughter echoed through the room as she wobbled precariously on her hands before collapsing back to the ground with a giggle.
As the two took their seats, Katie whispered something to Angelina, who's eyes widened and looked to Harry, checking him out appreciatively.
The game grew wilder with every passing moment. Ron was dared by Hermione to attempt his McGonagall impersonation again after a couple shots of firewhisky. His comedic performance was highly exaggerated this time around, causing everyone to break out into raucous laughter, even though he repeated himself a little bit.
When it was Dean's turn, he found himself on the receiving end of an unexpected dare from none other than Hermione who surprised him by daring him to kiss Lavender. The room fell silent for a fleeting second as surprise registered on everyone's faces before being replaced by anticipation.
Dean looked to Lavender, who's smile had momentarily dropped as she looked at him in anticipation.
He took a big gulp of his drink, and stood up.
"Lav?" he asked, offering her his hand.
She tried her best to put up a confident mask as she stood up on shaky heels, and would have stumbled if it wasn't for Dean holding on to her waist, holding her up.
"This... isn't how I imagined it happening," he then leaned forward, and pressed his lips to her cheek as he held her waist tight.
Lavender let out a small mewing noise as they parted ways.
Once she sat down, the bottle began spinning again. Eventually it was Fred's turn to spin (after being asked to say the truth on if he and George would ever be with the same girl together, to which he replied "how do you know we haven't already"), the bottle pointed at Harry. Fred looked at him with a sly grin. "Alright, Potter, truth or dare?"
"Dare," Harry replied, he felt that if he was able to take on a pack of wolves, defend himself against giants, duel one of the best duellist in Hogwarts, he could deal with a dare.
Fred exchanged a knowing glance with George, who nodded, with mischief dancing in his eyes, Fred declared, "I dare you and Hermione to go into the closet for seven minutes of heaven, no holds barred!"
The room fell into a stunned silence before Lavender, fueled by alcohol and a mischievous streak, chimed in, "Yeah, the two quiet ones deserve a little action!"
Amidst the cheers and hoots of their friends, Harry and Hermione exchanged an awkward glance, she briefly glanced away from Harry to next to him, took a swig of her drink (downing the rest of its content) and stood up.
"Which closet?"
Everyone pointed to the closet with the least amount of space.
"So you can be up-close and personal." Lavender said with a smirk.
With a roll of her eyes, Hermione strode towards the small closet, her shoulders squared and face flushed. As she stood outside the door, she looked to Harry with crossed arms.
"You coming Potter?"
With a chuckle he shook his head and stood, and strode over. Hermione opened the door and they both headed inside. Once they heard the sound of the door clicking locked, Harry's mind raced with thoughts of the Hermione from his world, although they were different, there were still similarities between them. She was still beautiful, and clever, and, he knew, incredibly loyal.
As he looked at the Hermione in front of him, he knew he had no romantic feelings for her. But the alcohol and the electricity in the air fuelled something in him. Causing his magic to pulse out of him. His body was so hot from the dancing and the drinking that he didn't even realise he'd let it slip as the curly-haired brunette wrapped her arms around Harry's neck and pushed him against the wall.
"Hermione, are you sure about this?"
She looked him in the eyes, then glanced to his lips.
"I've read all about it. I've seen people doing it. This," she couldn't tear her gaze away from his lips, "doesn't mean that I want a relationship with you or anything but... you're pretty nice to look at... and your not a total ass like the rest of them."
He smiled as he wrapped his arms around her, "this is nothing but two people, who could be friends, who have the excuse of alcohol, having a little fun whilst trapped in a cupboard. And no one will have to know if anything happened. If anything happened."
She looked into his eyes and pushed her hips into his.
"I appreciate that. I think it's," she pressed her nose against his, allowing Harry to smell every drop of alcohol on her breath and knew that she could smell it on his too. He hadn't been tipsy, let alone drunk.
He thought of feeling the rush of being drunk being with Lily, or Samantha, or Narcissa, and he knew he'd have a good time with Tonks, and would probably have to make sure that they didn't drink too much, lest she shift into people he definitely didn't want to shag.
As those thoughts raced through his mind, his magic pulsed again, and he could feel Hermione press her knees together as she gasped.
Without a second more passing between them. She pressed her lips against Harry's, her body clinging to him as though he were a lifeline. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss. Harry's mind went blank, lost in the sensation, the taste of firewhisky on her lips, the feel of her pressed against him. His hands found their way to her hips and he held her tightly against him.
The world outside of the small locked closet was quickly forgotten as they lost themselves in each other. The noises from their friends continuing to play the game outside, their loud cheers faded into insignificance; all that mattered was the woman in his arms and the intoxicating rush of emotions coursing through him.
Pulling back for air, they stood panting heavily, both gazing at each other with dazed expressions. Hermione smiled shyly up at Harry and he couldn't help but smile back.
"Are you okay?" he asked her.
She pressed her hips into him again, gasping as she did. He could feel her warmth pressing into his hardness. And she could feel that too. Her eyes widened as she absentmindedly ran her hand down Harry's chest and hovered it just above the waistband of his trousers.
They locked eyes, "can I?" she whispered. "I... I've always been curious... the pictures in the books... they're not..."
Harry chuckled, "Just don't be too rough."
The heat in the room became sweltering as Harry's magic pulsed again as the brunette unbuttoned his bottoms and pulled them apart, slid her boxers down allowing his length to slide out and gripped him tightly.
Their shared gasp echoed off the walls of the cramped closet as she held him. Hermione's fingers were trembling, her breath hitching as she took in his length. Harry was equally flushed, a bead of sweat trickling down the side of his face as he watched her.
She looked up at him, uncertainty reflected in her eyes. To assuage her worries, Harry gripped her hand that was wrapped around him, guiding her movements and showing her what felt good to him. A heady rush of pleasure surged through him as she followed his lead. Hermione's eyes widened at the intimate contact, at the power she had over him and the throbbing hardness in her hand.
"Harry," she whispered, her voice shaky.
"Yes?" He responded, breathless.
"Is...is this okay?"
Harry nodded. "More than okay."
Hermione smiled timidly at him before continuing where they left off. Harry looked between his half-lidded eyelashes to see that Hermione was watching each stroke she made, every dance across his head. He knew that this was just to give her the experience, but he also wanted her to enjoy it, and not look back on this as an educational moment.
So he reached up and tilted her chin to face him, her eyes were half lidded, sweat beaded on her forehead as she gasped. He leaned in and kissed her, quickly slipping his tongue into her mouth.
After a few moments he felt her relax against him, her grip softened against him as she leaned her chest into his. Harry reached down, trailing his hand down the side of her sweat soaked shirt, along her skirt and stopped at her thigh, just below her skirt, and pulled away from the kiss, the two breathing heavily against the other.
"Are you okay with me--"
"Yes!" she whispered back, speeding up her pumping of his cock. "Please, Harry. I want to know what it feels like to be touched... there."
Harry nodded, his fingers brushing over the smooth fabric of her underwear before he slid his hand beneath, feeling her gasp against him. The softness of her was a stark contrast to the hard lines of his own body; she was hot and wet against his fingers. He watched as Hermione closed her eyes, her chest rising and falling rapidly with each shallow breath.
As Harry's fingers explored her, Hermione clung to him, her head falling back to rest on his shoulder as she slackened her ministrations on his cock. Her whimpers echoed softly through the heated air of the closet, a beautiful contrast to the bass thump of the music from outside. Harry pushed his magic into the tips of his fingers.
She bit her lower lip as she felt Harry's thumb against her clit, a soft moan escaping from between her clenched teeth. He grinned at that, taking it as encouragement to continue. He lowered his finger to her entrance, and began tracing the outline, using her nectar to lubricate his finger, which allowed him to slip his fingertip slightly into her. When her hand that was gripping his shirt tightened and she began lightly biting his neck; he added another finger, feeling her body stiffen then relax around him.
Harry found himself mesmerized by Hermione's reactions. The way she arched into him, the tiny sounds she made whenever he hit a particularly sensitive spot. It was an intoxicating power he held over her, something he had never expected. When he felt resistance, she tensed against him, and he slipped his fingers back out, and replaced it with his index. And she mewed against him.
Her grip on him tightened in rhythm with his movements, their bodies moving together within the confines of their hidden sanctuary. The intensity of the situation was palpable; it filled up every inch of space between them, pushing them closer and closer to the edge.
Before long, Hermione's body tensed and Harry felt her walls clenched around his fingers. He could feel her magic pushing out against him, and he met hers in tandem. He couldn't see any rivers reaching out, but he could feel his magic reaching out to hers. Almost as though two old friends had reunited after years apart.
Hermione braced herself against him, her grip tightened on his shirt, her mouth pressed into the exposed flesh of Harry's collarbone and sucked and bit down on it, she drunkenly pumped Harry's penis quickly as her whole body began to tense. Harry's other hand held her tight as she used Harry's body to muffle her cry as she rode out her climax, whispering encouragements into her ear while she experienced sensations she had only read about before. Her walls contracted around him as she bathed his fingers in her juices, the nails on her free hand pulling at his hair.
Once she had calmed down enough, Harry slipped his fingers out of her and pulled her knickers back in place. Even though she was drunk on the alcohol and her orgasm, she returned to wanking Harry. But he placed his hand on hers and lightly tugged her away. She looked up at him, concerned.
"D-did I do it wrong?"
He shook his head as he patted her curls.
"No, but we have about thirty seconds before that door gets opened, and I don't you to be seen like this."
She stepped back slightly, her arm still clinging to Harry's hair bringing him with her.
"Y...You're right... I should... sort myself," she then straightened her uniform, and with her wand she got rid of all of the sweat on her clothes, and fixed her hair--which was difficult on shaky legs, and quickly helped Harry. But the entire time she was watching as Harry put his cock back into his trousers.
He caught her eye, "You okay there Hermione?"
She looked like a deer caught in headlights as she scanned him.
"I just... I didn't... I didn't finisih my job... did I not do a good job?" Her voice was a soft whisper.
"You were doing brilliantly Hermione, but you wanted the experience, and now you've experience quite a bit." He then stepped towards her. "I'm happy to help with any future experience when we're both not so--" he hiccuped. And he mentally swore. He'd been so good at not being a stereotype so far. "drunk, just let me know?"
Hermione glanced to his crouch, then back to his eyes, which, he didn't realise, were currently dimming from glowing with magic just moments before. She had a taste of his magic, of what it was like, but she now felt conflicted. She didn't have feelings for Harry, and liked someone else. But also couldn't deny that she had just enjoyed what had happened between them. And as long as Harry kept his word, he'd be an ideal partner to practice with.
She just smiled, "thank you for the help Harry. I--" she stopped herself. "I hope we can at least be friends after... this."
Harry smiled, "I'd love that!"
The door flung open and Lavender and the twins stood in the door way with big grins on their faces, but immidiately frowned when they saw that the two were on opposite walls of the room, and looking the exact same as when they went in.
"What?" was the closest word to the sound that Lavender made.
"Did you two not... make out?" George asked.
Harry shrugged, "sometimes you can really enjoy being in a cupboard with a friend."
"You just... talked?" Fred asked.
"We talked a little bit," Harry replied as he politely pushed through the gang and joined the group. But as Harry approached the circle, he saw Neville turn to see him and stand up.
"Finally, I'm heading up, but wanted to stay to make sure tweedledee, tweedledoo, and tweedledumb didn't peer pressure you into anything."
"Have you ever seen me be peer pressured?" Harry asked as the two clapped eachothers shoulders and turned to see Dean helping a fifth year up the stairs towards the boys dorms.
"Well... we're being peer pressured to be in this tournament," he joked.
Harry budged his shoulder, "actually, I think that's all you man."
The two shook their heads and tried their best to get up the stairs safely.
"Night everyone!" they called down.
The only people down was the twins, Lavender, and a few other fifth years.
Hermione had disappeared before Neville and Harry even finished their brief conversation.
Unbeknownst to everyone, as soon as the brunette entered the girl's dorm room, she jumped into her bed, pulled the curtains closed and layed on her back, and remembered her time in the closet with Harry.
He'd always been the kind of person who was charming, handsome, but always flew under the radar with everyone. He was "The Boy-Who-Lived"'s best friend. Most people never really spoke to him or noticed him. But Hermione wasn't most people. She saw whenever Harry rode a broom that he was better than any quidditch player on the field, but never put himself up to join the team. She saw how great he was at picking up spells in Defense Against the Dark Arts quicker than anyone; including Malfoy and Neville. Now that he had accepted his title and estate, that officially made him the richest person in Hogwarts--until Draco inherited the Malfoy estate, but Merlin knows if Lucius would ever give the estate over to Draco. And he is also unwed, whereas Malfoy has a betrothel contract. Making Harry the most eligible bachelor at the school.
But that wasn't what caught her attention. It was his presence.
The last few weeks Hermione had been able to sense Harry's magic presence, and it always seemed to slip out whenever he had been pushed. She knew that he returned to Hogwarts much stronger and magically powerful than before he left.
And she had a taste of it in that room.
And she couldn't stop thinking about it.
As she closed her eyes, she could still feel the feeling of his fingers on her skin, and replaced that feeling with her own fingers, trailing down and hitching her skirt down so that she could brush her fingers against her still very damp slit her eyes rolled back as her fingers traced the sensitive flesh, a soft sigh escaping her lips. The memory of Harry's touch was still fresh in her mind, his hands skilled and sure. Her heart pounded in her chest as she remembered the heat of his body against hers, the way his magic had subtly intertwined with hers.
Suddenly, the fabric of her skirt felt too restricting and she kicked it off to the end of her bed. The other girls were lost in their dreams, oblivious to Hermione's late-night rendezvous with pleasure. After her first mew, she quickly cast a silencing charm on her curtains, then tossed it to the side as she slipped her tie off and balled it up, and bit down hard on it.
As she slipped her fingers inside of herself, she couldn't help but think about how different Harry's fingers had felt; rougher and yet undeniably gentle. She moved in rhythm with the pulses of pleasure that coursed through her body, biting into her tie to stifle any errant moans.
She could still feel the vestiges of Harry's magic within her, weaving itself in complicated knots around her nervous system. Hermione was no stranger to magic, but this was different, this was intimate and personal in a way no spell or charm could ever hope to be.
And even though she denied having any feelings for Harry, there was no denying the connection they now shared. This was a physical pleasure that she couldn't comprehend before, but Harry had opened a door in her mind that she could shut, no matter how hard she shoved against it.
With a shaky hand, she slipped it under her shirt and bra, fingers seeking out the sensitive buds of her watermelon-pink nipples. The touch sent electric currents through her body as she began to circle her clitoris, just as Harry had done to her earlier. Her eyes rolled back in pleasure as she imagined his large length in her hand, mimicking the motions of wanking through the air next to her. Lost in the sensations and her own thoughts, Hermione hardly noticed when the climax hit her like a tidal wave crashing against a rocky shore. The intensity was almost too much to handle as she bit into her pillow, trying to suppress the screams that threatened to escape from deep within her.
As she came down from her second orgasm of the night, she took a deep breath in.
Although her trist with Harry had been brief, it had caused an addiction.
And she desperately wanted to experience more.
When Harry had put Neville to bed, he pulled the curtains closed to his bed, cast a silencing charm and pulled out the photo Lily had given him when he was away of her in her vest top, squeezing her breasts together, and masturbated. As he did, he pictured himself floating just above his golden lake of magic, where he could see ripples of his golden magic flowing downstream into the rivers connected to his, and, as he focused on those rivers, he could see images of Samantha in her tent, rolling in a bed of furs as she stirred from side-to-side, her hand between her legs as she bit hard into her t-shirt. Down the other river, he could see Lily, on all four with her ass in the air as she fucked herself with a dildo that seemed to be pumping into her without her using her hands, allowing her to use a vibrator on her clit.
Harry thought it was fucking hot. And as he came, he felt his magic pulse outwards, his magic thundering down the rivers, and unbeknownst to him, causing all witches capable of receiving the blessings of the Merlin Law to become incredibly aroused. The Gryffindors had never had so many girls waking up due to cumming at the same time after having an intense wet dream.
But Hermione sensed the magic, and she wanted a taste of it.