Alternative Medicine
Ch 12: Fawlty Island
By canoncansodoff
Author Notes:
Disclaimer: Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.
The sharp sweet sting of a brisk headwind buffeted Harry Potter’s cheeks as he flew over the moonlit Arabian Sea. He couldn’t help but smile and laugh out loud…and hope that Hermione and the Twins weren’t too upset that he was enjoying his first love.
The situation reminded Harry of another moonlit night a few years previous, when his escape from Privet Drive was facilitated by a wild broomstick ride. He realized not soon after that it would have made much more sense (from a security standpoint) to simply use a portkey to travel to Grimmauld Place. But was he going to point that out?
No more than he would point out that portkeys would have provided quicker access to the Maharajah’s island than a flotilla of flying carpets.
There were a dozen, flying in formation along a northwesterly bearing. Harry was sitting in the middle of the group, belted into a palki that was stuck to the center of a room-sized carpet. There were six others on board. The pilot sat furthest front, upon a small charmed seat cushion called a “kazipu” that translated his slight shifts in body weight into changes in course, or elevation, or speed (without that focus the carpet would have had to work through the competing movements of a pilot and his passengers). Standing behind Harry was the tall, handsomely dressed military man who commanded this squadron of flying carpets as a member of the Maharajah’s magical air corps. And on either side of Harry were the four witches who were going to be joining him on a island getaway…Hermione, the Twins…and the surprise chaperone who had arrived at the Patil’s hospital along with their rides.
Parvati and Padma had been more than a little put out, but tried to hide their reactions as their childhood nanny smothered them in hugs. Just as their Auntie had hinted to Harry, somebody up the Patil family tree had insisted that the elderly witch, named Aya, accompany the Twins in order to protect their virtue. And to protect them from just about anything else, as well, if the way the witch began to dote on them as if they were five-year olds was any indication.
Six smaller carpets flanked the one that Harry and the witches were riding on (one in front, one behind, one above, one below, and one on each side). If the big carpet was roughly 8ft x 12ft in size, these were more like 6 by 8’s, with room enough for a pilot and a “weapons officer” whose wand was always out and eyes always looking for potential threats. And zigging and zagging outside of this protective buffer were the 3x5 single-seaters…or “single-stomachers” as it were, because these fastest of carpets were flown prone, with the pilot lying face-first. A couple of these solo pilots served as scouts, and always flew at least a couple hundred yards in front of the rest of the formation.
They were heading towards Lakshadweep, a loose archipelago of islands stretched out parallel to and a few hundred miles west of India’s southwestern coastline. Their specific destination was an island called Kalbitra, on the northern side of the chain. This allowed the squadron commander to bend down over Harry’s shoulder and shout out a running travelogue as they passed over the other islands.
When the military man pointed towards a well-appointed palace in the center of one of the relatively larger islands, Harry thought that they had arrived at their destination. But they kept going, and began a gentle descent towards a much smaller spot of land about ten miles beyond.
All of the passengers got a much better look at the island of Kalbitra as the carpets went on final approach. There actually wasn’t that much to see. It was an uninhabited atoll …a ring of coral that almost completely encircled a shallow lagoon that reflected the moonlight more brightly than the deeper surrounding waters. Most of the reef was submerged…only a small, thin sliver of land rose above sea level on the south end. The island was barely fifty yards long, and hosted exactly twenty-four coconut trees, a short rickety dock, and a hut with a very big hole in its roof.
The protective escort of carpets broke off as they reached dry land (such that it was), leaving the big passenger carpet on a solo approach towards a hole in a roof that didn’t look nearly wide enough to allow them to pass through. But Harry had come to accept the fact that seeing isn’t always believing in the magical world, and sure enough, they dropped down through the opening with nary a scratch.
Just like the magical tents used during World Cup, the insides were much nicer (and much bigger) than the outsides. The hole in the roof was actually the airspace above an interior courtyard, and an open-air garden filled with fruit trees and flowering shrubs. When the carpet landed, a diminutive man wearing a black mustache, black bow tie and white tuxedo jacket appeared. He immediately began to buzz about the carpet in an insistent effort to help each of the four witches up their feet, babbling the whole time in thickly-accented English.
“Hello…you are most welcome…Good evening, Memsahib…Welcome…Good evening…”
Were it not the fact that this person was twice as tall as a house-elf, had human-sized ears, and a thick black mustache, Harry might have mistaken him for Dobby…or at least Dobby’s cousin. He smiled at the thought…and this smile only grew when he noticed that Hermione was practically giggling at the man’s antics.
Not everyone was equally enamored, however. The squadron commander cuffed the manservant on the back of his head when he strayed within arm’s reach.
“Manuel! Bring the luggage to their rooms!”
“Yes, Boss!”
Hermione couldn’t decide whether to express outrage at the display of physical violence, or to laugh out loud as Manuel scampered around the carpet in an effort to gather shrunken down trunks. When the tuxedo-wearing servant disappeared down a hallway, she turned to their escort, arched an eyebrow, and asked, “Manuel?”
The squadron commander replied with a shrug of his shoulders.
“The Maharajah enjoys Muggle television comedies,” he explained. “When this…manservant…came upon His Majesty’s videotape collection, he mistook them for instructional videos on how a proper servant should act.”
“So his real name isn’t Manuel?”
“No, Memsahib.”
“And he’s not really from Barcelona?”
“As much as he wishes it was so…no.”
“And nobody chose to let this bloke in on the joke?” asked Harry.
The escort chuckled. “His Majesty tried, but the man is so earnest…and so convincing in the role…and it does amuse the Maharajah greatly whenever he stays here.”
“Manuel it is, then,” Hermione replied. “So is there a Polly somewhere about? Will we be taking our meals with The Germans? Should we not mention The War?”
The military escort frowned. “I’m sorry, Memsahib, but if you are making a joke, I have never seen these television shows myself.”
“Oh, no worries,” Harry interjected. “I haven’t either…too bad, actually. Don’t imagine that there is a working television and videotape collection here?”
“As a matter of fact, there is,” the officer replied.
“Harry Potter!” Hermione gently chided. “You’ve just arrived on a secluded magical island hideaway with your three girlfriends and you are scheming to waste your time in front of a television?”
The Boy-Who-Won chuckled, shook his head, and gave a slight nod towards the matronly chaperone.
“Are you three expecting to be able to do much more than watch the telly given… circumstances?” he whispered.
Hermione glanced towards the nanny, then turned backed to Harry and shrugged.
“We’ll find out soon enough, I imagine.”
When Manuel returned to the courtyard and announced that he would be pleased to show everyone to their rooms, the squadron commander and carpet driver lifted Harry’s lightened palki off of the carpet and followed the servant and the four witches into a magically enlarged master bedroom. The teen-aged wizard’s protests that he didn’t need such a large space were quieted once Padma noted that the room was divided into thirds. A large four poster bed was flanked by a massage table on one side, and a sitting area on the other. Within that sitting area were two rattan chairs, a love seat, a low table…and a cabinet chock full of electronics.
Hermione immediately scowled at the set up (even though she was curious about the power source and magical interference). And she certainly wasn’t about to complain about the free accommodations. Padma and Parvati’s nanny lacked those kinds of reservations, however, and began to rant just as soon as she opened the cabinet doors and read some of the videotape titles. A small pile quickly formed as she yanked individual tapes off of the shelf and dropped them onto the floor.
Manuel the manservant shouted in dismay, and rushed over in a futile attempt to reshelf what the nanny was binning, all while arguing with the old witch.
“What’s going on?” asked Harry.
Parvati shook her head and sighed. “Sounds like the Maharajah has a rather racy collection of foreign movies.”
At this point the military escort waded into the argument in a futile attempt to mediate. The three-way discussion became quite animated, until the old woman’s voice carried the day. The uniformed escort nodded his head, then cuffed Manuel on his head. Under the nanny’s watchful eye, the manservant dropped to his knees and quickly gathered the censored tapes into his arms. This allowed the uniformed military man to return to the group of teenagers and roll his eyes.
“It has been decided that certain films will be housed in a separate area for the duration of your stay. My apologies for any inconveniences.”
Harry chuckled. “No worries.”
“Speak for yourself,” Parvati pouted. “If a movie is good enough for the Maharajah, then it’s got to be good enough for the little people, no?”
“Your nanny thinks otherwise.”
“She would,” Parvati muttered.
Her comment drew an animated response from across the room.
“Yes, Aya…of course Aya…no need to worry Papa, Aya….”
“Guess we’ll just have to find some way to entertain ourselves?” Harry quipped.
Padma snorted.
“Don’t get your hopes up.”
Hermione shook her head, and pulled out her wand.
“Right then, let’s get you into bed, Harry.”
The squad commander’s hand flew out and pulled Hermione’s arm down to her side. He then apologized, and asked that they all minimize the use of magic on the island. He explained that there were magical sensors in place that covered the archipelago. And while the Maharajah controlled the local government (and the office that monitored magical use), it would be a huge red flag if spells were detected that had Latin-based incantations, so long as they were quasi-fugitives.
A brief lesson was then given (at Hermione’s insistence) on what magical sensors could and could not detect. A levitation charm that employed a Sanskrit incantation did exist, of course, and the sensors, when operating at “normal” levels of sensitivity, couldn’t tell which words were used to cast the spell. But there were more than a few spells in the repertoire of the Hogwarts-trained witches and wizard that had no local equivalent, and would easily be spotted. And if the sensor operators chose to focus in on a specific area and monitor magic at high surveillance levels, they would be able to tell that Hermione’s levitation charm wasn’t cast using the local language.
Why there would be an enhanced level of interest on any magic performed on the island was easily explained…it was the Maharajah’s retreat, and near the much larger island that hosted his “official” Lakshadweep residence. The island hideaway was only staffed when he was there, and that was usually only during the day. Any magic use at night would stand out, especially if it were done by more than one person.
The squadron commander and carpet driver manually lifted Harry into bed, then stepped to the side so that the nanny could closely monitor the delivery of three completely chaste bedtime kisses. Harry would have been disappointed had he not spied Hermione’s wink, and seen her mouth the word “LATER.” So he cheerfully thanked the men for their help getting the group to the island, and bade his girls good night. He fell asleep just about the time that the squad commander and pilot flew back off into the night.
oo00OO00oo
Harry kept his eyes shut when he woke the next morning, hoping to once again gain by feigning sleep. But as he more fully regained his senses, he realized that there hadn’t had any overnight visitors, and that anyone visiting him at present time was more interested in the Maharajah’s telly than in him.
The teen-aged wizard opened his eyes and slowly turned his head towards where Padma and Parvati’s nanny was standing in front of the telly, watching some kind of Indian musical. Her arms were raised, and she swayed from side to side in time with the movie’s musical soundtrack. Which wouldn’t have bothered Harry half as much if the elderly woman wasn’t dressed for the magical world, and giving him an unobstructed view of her saggy breasts.
A groan escaped from his lips, catching the nanny’s attention. She flashed a smile that was short a few teeth, and babbled in her native tongue as she approached his bedside.
Aya’s refusal to speak English, even though Harry knew that she at least understood English, was incredibly frustrating to the black-haired wizard. Especially when she pointed towards the morning condition that was tenting his sheets.
Harry had never felt so helpless as when the old witch shook her head, stripped off his bed linens, and pulled his loincloth/dhoti down around his ankles.
“No really…thanks…I can wait…don’t need to….”
These concerns fell on deaf ears; the old woman continued to chat away as she placed a magical bedpan over his crotch. Harry’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment…the way she was handling both the bedpan and his body made it seem as if she were changing a nappie.
Once he managed to put the bedpan to its intended use, the nanny pulled up and reknotted his loincloth as if he was a dress-up doll. Or a helpless baby boy…which is how Harry took it.
Aya walked to the far wall once Harry’s bits were covered, and slid three large door panels to the side. Bright sunlight, a gust of fresh air, and the sounds of a gentle surf spilled into the room. Something disagreed with the old witch as she poked her head out one of the openings. Whatever the concern, the remedy involved dragging large wooden screens in front of each doorway, so that Harry’s views out (or no doubt more importantly, all views in) were at least partially obscured.
When the old witch opened Harry’s bedroom door and called out, he hoped that “his” girls would respond. But it was Manuel who appeared, wishing the younger man a “Very good morning, Sir.” Aya and the manservant then dressed Harry in a long-sleeved button-down shirt, and covered his bare legs with something akin to a full-length skirt. It was only then that the three young witches were allowed to enter the room.
“Good morning, ladies,” Harry said cheerfully.
“Could be better,” Parvati muttered, as she approached the young wizard and kissed him on the cheek. Her old nanny began chattering away, and the much younger witch responded in kind.
“What’s going on?” asked Harry.
Hermione approached the bed and gave her boyfriend a measured kiss of her own.
“No breakfast in bed today,” she whispered. Padma then took her sister’s place on the other side of the bed, offered a grazing peck on the cheek. All three helped Manuel lift Harry out of the bend and onto the palki. The manservant then dashed away to make sure that the breakfast table was set, and Aya ordered the Twins to carry Harry into the main dining area, located on the far side of the courtyard.
Detachable poles allowed Padma and Parvati to push the palki up to the table’s edge, as if it was a dining room chair. A traditional European table setting was before them, with silverware and a silver dome covering the plate (as if they were being served by a hotel’s room service). Once the four witches were in their own seats, Manuel rushed around the table and removed each plate covering.
An array of warm, inviting aromas drifted up towards Harry’s nose, and he moaned in appreciation at the sight of a full English breakfast.
“All right!” he exclaimed.
Unfortunately, the nanny’s response wasn’t quite as favorable. She stood, began to yell at Manuel, and (taking her cues from the night previous) cuffed him on the side of the head.
The manservant understood the nanny’s complaints far better than Harry did, and ducked as he quickly removed the full plates of food from the table, apologizing the whole time. Aya continued her scoldings as she followed the poor man back into the adjacent kitchen.
“What’s that all about?” Harry asked.
“Not exactly an ayuvedic-compatible meal,” Padma sighed. “And that bacon smelled so-o-o-o good…”
“Back to the banana leaves and curry?”
“Afraid so.”
“Least we’ve been given a few minutes free of supervision,” Hermione noted.
“Got something in mind, sweetheart?”
The bushy-haired witch clamped her legs together and shook her head.
“Yes, I do, unfortunately...but in mind is where it has to stay for now.”
Harry glanced back towards the kitchen door, where the elderly witch was still complaining in a loud voice.
“Think she’ll at least let me suck on some fingers while I eat?”
Padma chuckled. “What do you think, Harry?”
“A bloke could dream, couldn’t he?”
“Well, dreaming might be all you get to do over the next week,” Hermione commiserated. “And not just about the meal plans.”
Harry nodded, and thrust his chin towards his girlfriend’s outfit.
“So the nanny is insisting you wear cholis under the shawls, even if she isn’t?”
“I'm afraid so,” Padma replied. "Although, even if she didn't…Manuel isn’t shy about staring.”
“And I thought I heard something rustling in the bushes outside the lavatory’s window this morning,” Hermione added.
“Think he was playing the Peeping Tom?”
“Dunno…could’ve been a bird, I guess,” the brown-haired witch admitted. “But then Manuel was trying to be helpful, pointing out that we didn’t need to wear cholis under our sari shawls because there aren’t any Muggles on the island.”
“Did you complain about it?”
“What could we say?” Hermione whispered. “He was only stating the truth.”
Harry, shook his head, sighed, but couldn’t help but grin.
“You do realize just how ironic it will be if the only breasts I get to see over the next week are the pair attached to the nanny?”
“Yes, well…not for lack of trying,” Parvati hissed.
“How’s that?”
Manuel and the nanny burst back into the room before the Gryffindor witch could elaborate. He carried a tray filled with the same kind of finger foods that Harry had enjoyed during his recovery.
Eating those same finger foods wasn’t nearly as enjoyable, though, when the nanny insisted on feeding Harry herself.
oo00OO00oo
Harry was carried back into the Master Bedroom after breakfast, and placed on the massage table rather than the bed, in anticipation of a portkey-facilitated house call. Healer Patil arrived right on time. Manuel greeted her, and insisted on providing a two-minute tour of the magically-expanded house. The visiting witch agreed, then did a bit of insisting of her own, and shooed both the manservant and the nanny out of Harry’s room.
Aya protested the whole way.
Harry whispered to Padma, “What’s she so unhappy about? Your nanny doesn’t want to leave the telly?”
“More like she doesn’t want to leave my nieces in the same room with you,” the Healer called back, as she firmly closed the bedroom door.
“Finally,” Parvati hissed, as she began to unbutton her top.
The teenagers all glanced back towards Healer Patil, wondering if she was going to object.
Instead, she laughed, and said, “Don’t forget that Harry needs his shirt off as well for the examination and treatment.”
The three witches were quick to acknowledge the point, and pulled their cholis off from under their shawls. They were most of the way past unbuttoning their patient’s shirt before anyone realized that Healer Patil had done the same.
“Auntie!” Parvati hissed.
“What?” the older witch replied. “Are there some Muggles that I didn’t know about on this island? Or perhaps I’m making my patient uncomfortable?”
Harry snorted, and quickly considered potential responses. If it was no big deal that the three younger witches were following wizarding world fashion and shedding their cholis, then how could he object?
“Whatever makes you comfortable, Ma’am.”
“Ma’am?”
“Sorry…Auntie,” Harry corrected.
The Healer smiled, and followed through on her question as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Harry, in turn, tried to act as if it were the most natural thing in the world for the Healer to expose the sides of her breasts to him.
It wasn’t such an easy task. Not because he was repelled by the view. Almost the opposite…at least when Harry thought about the nanny’s similar attire.
Admittedly, Padma and Parvati’s Great-Aunt was far better looking than their nanny, with a fitter body, firmer breasts…and a full set of teeth. The Boy-Who-Won was quick to realize, though, that it mattered much more how the two women had treated him…the nanny acted as if he were a helpless baby, while the Healer thought of him as a temporarily-incapacitated adult male…an adult male that could even get her to blush a bit when she thought she spied him angling his head for a better view of her baps.
The patient tried to keep his cool, and to keep the tenting down. Parvati and Padma weren’t helping things, though, as they gleefully pulled their shawls to the side and flashed him behind their Auntie’s back.
“That better, Harry?” Parvati teased.
“What’s that, dear?” Healer Patil asked, looking over her shoulder.
The shawls and the grins both dropped back into place.
“Nothing, Auntie.”
The Healer rolled her eyes, and continued with her examination.
“So,” asked Harry. “I couldn’t understand what was said, but it seems that Aya doesn’t trust you to chaperone us, Auntie?”
Madhura chuckled. “Something like that… I asked that she remember that the girls are seventeen, rather than seven.” She then turned back towards Parvati and added, “Last night didn’t help, of course.”
“Sorry,” the Gryffindor replied. “How was I to know that Aya’s tethers were still in place?”
The older witch rolled her eyes, and patted Harry’s leg. “Right. Things are moving along well, I think. Get started with the salve, girls…I’ve not that much time here. Unless you would rather have Aya monitoring your work?”
“Yes, Auntie,” the Twins droned.
Harry watched with interest as the Healer turned away from his bed and walked towards the sitting area. She stopped in front of the entertainment console, found a videotape that she fancied, popped it into the machine, and pulled up a chair to watch.
The black-haired wizard arched an eyebrow, and turned his head towards Hermione.
“Allowing us to keep our conversations private?”
“Makes sense,” she admitted. “As much as anything we say within a mile of her ears could be considered private.”
The teen-aged wizard nodded, then glanced over to admire Padma and Parvati’s fully exposed breasts as they swapped out sari shawls for dragonhide aprons and gloves.
“Harry?” asked Hermione.
He turned and pursed his lips as a blush covered his cheeks. “Sorry...got distracted.”
“I noticed,” the bushy-haired witch replied with a sly grin. She reached down, tweaked one of Harry’s nipples, and added, “Something to be said for continuity of care, eh?”
“Ouch!....So…what did I miss last night?”
“You’ll have to ask Parvati,” Hermione quipped, as she lovingly stroked Harry’s chest with the back of her hand. “She was the one caught trying to slip into your room wearing nothing more than your cloak and a smile.”
“Really?” asked Harry. He then turned his head towards their house mate, who had returned to his bedside with an opened jar of salve in her hand.
“So, Parv…what did I miss last night?”
“Don’t ask,” the dark-haired witch replied. As she began to massage the healing salve into the arm closest to her she added, “You’ll just get as frustrated as I am right now.”
“Frustrated…or revved-up?”
“Yes.”
“How did…”
“I won the rock-parchment-wand,” Parvati explained. “Waited until I thought our nanny was asleep, and was all set to wet your dreams. Didn’t get more than a step past our bedroom door before she caught me.”
“Damn,” Harry muttered. “So you said something about a tether?”
“Leftover magic from when we were little girls,” Padma explained. “A parent or nanny can charm jewelry that links themselves to their children with something like an invisible leash. It can be used to either keep the children out of certain rooms, or gives them set a distance to run around free.”
“And if the children try to go out of bounds?”
“Then Aya’s bangles are set off and my ear stings like a bitch!”
“Language, Parvati!” Healer Patil called out, without turning away from the television screen.
“Yes, Auntie, Sorry Auntie,” Parvati droned.
“Your ear?” Harry asked.
The brown-skinned Gryffindor nodded, and turned to show him the gold band that hugged the top of her left ear in a cartilage piercing.
“I’ve got one too,” Padma noted. “We’ve had them for as long as I can remember.”
Hermione frowned. “Sounds like the shock collars that Muggles put on their dogs.”
“Pretty much,” said Padma. “You get used to it…and get used to paying heed to the boundaries that are set.”
“Of course, it helps when you are actually told how long the leash is,” Parvati muttered.
“Well, she did tell us to stay out of Harry’s room last night, didn’t she?”
“Yes, but…”
“Did you two know that these tethers were still in place?” asked Harry.
“Forgot, actually,” Parvati admitted. “Been years since Aya has been our minder.”
Hermione asked, “So she reactivated the charm last night?”
“The charm was never deactivated, Dear,” Healer Patil called out, as she rose from her chair and walked back towards Harry’s bedside. “According to custom, a parent or nanny keeps hold of their child’s tether until their wedding day. And if it is a female child, the control is then transferred to the husband.”
“Really?” asked Hermione. “That’s….”
“A cultural tradition?” the Healer preemptively asked. She then answered her question with, “Yes…exactly.”
“Oh,” Harry said with slight grimace. “Does the husband at least have the option of cancelling the spell?”
“Yes, Dear,” Madhura said with a wry smile. She then nodded to the Twins. “Nicely done, girls…clean up and you can start with the stones.”
Parvati and Padma’s moods instantly brightened as they stepped away from the bed and began to strip off the protective dragonhide. Hermione asked, “So how many husbands choose to keep their wives on a short leash?”
“A good many,” Madhura admitted. “But it’s not quite what you think.”
“What do you mean, Auntie?” Padma called out.
The Healer looked over her shoulder towards the closed door, then gave the four teens a conspiring smile.
“Excuse us for a moment, Harry?” she asked.
“Erm…of course.”
Healer Patil smiled her thanks, then took Hermione by the arm and guided her to where her nieces were re-wrapping their sari tops.
“You do know that the tethers can deliver more than just a sharp sting, right girls?”
“Yes, Auntie,” Padma replied. “Sometimes, if Aya wanted a gentler reminder, our earrings would just vibrate.”
The older witch smiled. “When I married your Uncle, I allowed him to keep me tethered, so long as it was kept to that particular setting.”
Hermione frowned. “So it’s okay for your husband to keep you on a magical leash, just so long as it doesn’t sting when he tugs on it?”
“I get to decide when I’m wearing the tether-charmed jewelry, Dear…and it’s more than okay when my husband uses that tether to provide me pleasure, rather than pain.”
Padma pursed her lips, then gave the older witch a skeptical look. “Are you telling us that you are into submissive role play, Auntie?”
Madhura laughed melodically, and shook her head. After glancing back over her shoulder at Harry, she leaned forward, smiled, and casually formed a ring by joining the tip of her index finger and thumb. She then rested this ring against the front of her sari skirt.
“What I’m telling you is that the charm doesn’t have to be applied to an earring," she whispered, "Other types of piercings work just as well.”
There was a pause as the three younger witches glanced down at her fingers and considered this response.
There were three sets of blushed cheeks, once those witches cottoned on.
“Oh, Auntie…that’s so naughty!” Parvati hissed.
“What’s that?” Harry called out from across the room.
“Erm, nothing, sweetheart,” Hermione called back.
Healer Patil squared up her shoulders, rested her hands at her side, and recast her expression into something that was far more professional.
“I’ve just got a few more minutes, ladies,” she quietly stated. “You may wish to combine the patient’s sponge bath with the paired stone treatment.”
Hermione’s eyes bugged out. “Really?” she squeaked.
“It’s up to you,” the Healer replied. “The stones are a priority. I don’t have to be here for his wash up, but…I wouldn’t be surprised if Aya insisted on holding the sponge herself in my absence.”
Hermione and the Twins glanced at each other, not quite believing the situation as it was presented to them. It was Padma who had to ask for some clarification.
“So, Auntie, you’ll be supervising as we…work?”
Healer Patil chuckled. “You’ve done these steps without my help right?”
Three bodies were frozen in response, as the possibilities raced through the fronts of three brains.
Healer Patil therefore took some initiative, and pulled one of the privacy screens away from an opened doorway, dragging it back into the room until it sat in between Harry’s bed and the telly.
“Just make sure you have the patient’s consent, ladies,” she called out, as she ducked behind the screen and took a seat in front of the screen.
The four teen-agers stared in equal measure at the opening in the wall and the privacy screen that shielded Healer Patil from view.
“Reckon that Manuel is going to find a hiding spot to watch from outside that door?” Hermione whispered.
Parvati grinned. “Reckon it’s worth the risk, all things considered.”
All four were quick to agree.
“Take care to keep those saris dry, Dears,” Healer Patil called out from her chair. “Don’t want to overdo on using magic and drying charms while we’re here, right?”
All four teens craned their heads towards the other side of the room, but failed to see the older witch staring back at them through one of the many small carved openings.
“Un-fucking-believable,” Parvati hissed.
“Language, Dear!”
“Erm, yes, Auntie…sorry, Auntie.”
The three teenaged witches all looked down at Harry.
“So, I guess we have to ask for your consent?” Hermione snarked.
Harry snorted and grinned at the same time.
“Figured as much,” his bushy-haired girlfriend replied, as she pulled her top over her head. The Twins quickly followed suit, leaving all four teens bare-chested.
The shared state of undress lasted only for a moment, until Parvati and Padma were able to undo the knots in Harry’s dhoti and pull the tented sheet off of his lower body.
The Boy-Who-Won had been naked in front of the three witches more than once before…but Healer Patil’s inattention (whether feigned or real) was definitively raising the bar. And the three sets of bared breasts was definitively raising his erection.
“So…stones and sponging at the same time?” he asked.
The question caught the three teen-aged witches staring waist-high, and they blushed with no small amount of embarrassment as they each grabbed a stone or wash cloth.
“I’ll do your front top half first, Harry?” Hermione asked.
He grinned. “While they do my bottom?”
The four thought they might have heard someone snort on other side of the room, but without a matronly admonishment, and with the loud television volume, probably not…right?
“Hush, Harry,” Padma whispered. “Don’t want to spoil things, do you?”
A snarky response instantly came to mind, but her “patient” thought better of it as he felt Parvati nudge the side of his erection with the back of her fingers as she balanced one of the paired healing stones high on his thigh.
Trying to make the situation at least sound less sexually charged than it really was, the teen-aged wizard asked, “So, Parvati…got caught with my cloak, then?”
His house mate nodded sadly. “Sorry, Harry. She slept in the same room with us, and had the tethers on a short leash. So Aya’s got your invisibility cloak now, along with the Kama Sutra, and my…”
“Religious devices?” Padma interrupted.
Harry raised an eyebrow. “No devotionals to your lingam, then?”
“Not unless their nanny was worshipping last night,” Hermione muttered.
“Oof!” winced Harry. He then whispered, “Trying to head off the need for vega relief with that erection-killing image?”
Hermione chuckled, and couldn’t help but glance down the length of her patient’s torso.
“Failed miserably if I was, eh?”
Harry rolled his eyes.
“So I’ve got three incredibly sexy half-naked witches giving me a rub-down while they joke about confiscated sex toys,” he whispered. “It’s going to take more than the thought of a masturbating nanny to put me off.”
“Now, now…none of that,” Hermione teased. “We are just providing therapeutic services…and nothing more, understand?” She then leaned across Harry’s face so that she could rub down his far-side arm.
“Might be easier for him to agree with you if your tittie wasn’t dangling in front of his mouth,” Parvati quipped.
“Language!” Healer Patil called out.
Parvati snorted at her Auntie’s choice of concerns, but promptly apologized, recognizing that she could easily need to reach across like that once they swapped stations.
When Harry lifted his head up to take a nip, Hermione teasingly pulled her dangling breast just out of reach. He responded by hissing out her name in frustration.
“Something hurts, Mr. Potter?” she asked innocently. “Need me to give you a helping hand?”
Harry groaned, and turned his head away. Healer Patil was, amazingly, still out of sight, pretending to be watching the telly on the far side of the screen.
“You’re joking, right?” he whined.
“Oh, no, I nevvvv-er joke about the health of my patient,” Hermione solemnly replied. “And we can count on my supervising Healer to object if she felt the need, right?”
Harry took in a deep breath, then expelled it, causing the polished oblong stone that was balancing on his thigh to nearly wobble off. Parvati’s fingers darted out to stabilize it, but grabbed more erection than rock.
Healer Patil called out, “That’s Hermione’s job to do today, Parvati.”
“Yes, Auntie.”
Padma waggled her eyebrows at her sister. “Notice she said ‘today’?” she whispered.
Parvati grinned and nodded her head. Both Twins then watched with great interest as Hermione reached down, and began to wash and worship her own favorite lingam.
“Focus, you two!” a voice called.
“I am focusing!” Parvati hissed, her eyes intently tracking Hermione’s handiwork.
“Focus on your stone work!”
“Yes, Auntie,” the Twins whined.
It took a few more tries before an arrangement was reached that was agreeable to all. Padma was in charge of rubbing the white stone on Harry’s left arm while Parvati held the green against his collarbone. Padma then held the green stone while Parvati rubbed down the right. It wasn’t all that hard to hold a stone still against Harry’s shoulder, so there were plenty of opportunities for at least one of the twins to watch what was going on below.
Opportunities that weren’t always taken, though.
When it was Padma’s turn to hold the healing stone still, she decided to stand at the head of the massage table, so that she could watch and run her fingers through Harry’s hair at the same time. When he closed his eyes and groaned with pleasure, Hermione teasingly shushed him. And Padma decided that she ought to help Harry keep quiet by leaning down and covering his lips with hers.
The lack of complaints from across the room about the snogging emboldened the Ravenclaw. She broke off the kiss, and offered up a breast instead.
The offer was quickly taken up.
A jealous sister hissed, “Why didn’t I think of that?”
Padma smiled, both at the question, and from Harry’s gentle nibbling.
“I’m sure you were, Parv,” she quietly replied. “You just didn’t show the kind of Gryffindor courage necessary to follow through.”
Parvati gave a mock scowl. It would have been easier to look upset if she hadn’t been grinding up against Harry’s limp hand.
The rubbing, and stroking, and grinding, and nibbling carried on without complaint, and in no time at all Harry broke off of his suckle and hissed, “Going to…”
Padma lifted Harry’s head up so that he could watch as easily as she could. Hermione was paying the others no mind, so focused she was on her technique….one hand holding the wash cloth just above the head while the other stroked the length.
But at the moment of truth….she blocked the other’s view of the fireworks.
Not with the cloth…but with the back of her head, as she bent down and caught Harry’s release with her mouth.
“Holy Shit!”
“Language, Parvati!”
“Language?” gasped Padma.
Harry was gasping too, but was too shocked to add voice to the emotion.
Hermione continued to stroke, and to cover, until she felt Harry’s body relax. There was a massive closed-lip grin on her face once she pulled back. The brown-haired witch made sure that she had the attention of the other three teen-agers before she visibly swallowed, and gave them a look of smug satisfaction.
Parvati’s gaze bounced from Hermione’s lips to the wooden screen hiding her Auntie, and then back again, as if she were watching a tennis match.
There’d been no objections.
Padma leaned over Harry’s body and said, “Come here, Hermione.”
The brown-haired witch chuckled and leaned towards her Ravenclaw girlfriend, expecting a kiss.
What she got instead wast a lick on the corner of her mouth.
Padma made her own show of swallowing, then smiled.
“Missed some,” she explained.
“Need to finish up,” called Healer Patil.
“Yes, Auntie.”
“At least somebody got to finish off,” Parvati pouted.
Hermione glanced down at Harry’s crotch and smiled. “Doesn’t look like he’s finished yet.”
“Is that a complaint?” Padma teased.
“No, it’s another opportunity.”
“Ladies?”
“Yes, Auntie.”
Hermione shook her head. “Sorry Harry…have to turn you over.”
“No worries,” he grinned. “That was….that was brilliant!”
“No, it was medicinal,” Hermione shot back.
Her waggling eyebrows suggested otherwise.
The three witches rolled Harry over onto his stomach, and quickly set themselves to finishing their assigned tasks.
Hermione was rubbing down Harry’s back when Parvati whispered, “What made you think that you could do that?”
The bushy-haired witch giggled.
“I was….erm...minding the Healer’s instructions.”
“What?” Harry snorted. “She told you to…”
“She told all of us to limit our magic use,” Hermione glibly interrupted. “And if I’d gotten the cloth all sticky…then how could I have scrubbed Harry’s back?”
“With the luffa?” he asked.
“Why are you offering up viable alternatives?”
“Erm, right. Never mind.”
“So there were perfectly logical, therapeutic reasons,” Hermione concluded with a wink. “Didn’t have anything to do with checklists, or moving lines drawn in the sand down the beach...”
“Or with fulfilling your pervy fantasies?”
“Hush!”
Harry shook his head in disbelief.
“So,” he asked, “When do I get to play doctor and provide some relief?”
Parvati grinned as she ground against Harry’s heel.
“What makes you think that you aren’t?”
Healer Patil appeared from behind the screen before her niece had opportunity to elaborate (or finish off).
“Time for me to return home,” she announced.
“Awww…Auntie…just a few more minutes?”
“Sorry.”
“You’ll be back tonight, right?”
The Healer smiled, and gave Parvati a sympathetic one-arm hug.
“At six this evening…plenty of time for you three to refine your therapeutic techniques?”
“With Aya around?” Padma asked. “Theory perhaps…but not the practical.”
“Ah, yes…Aya,” the Auntie replied. “Speaking of which…your nursing attire, ladies?”
The three younger witches looked down, and realized that they were still topless.
“But what about Harry?” Parvati asked, dragging a hand up the back of his leg.
A now-sleeping patient replied with a snore.
Madhura shook her head and smiled. “Let us assume that this is the result of the medicine working, and not the typical male response after sex.”
“Sex?” Hermione asked. “There wasn’t any sex here, Auntie…it was all therapy.”
The older witch shook her head and smirked. “Ah, yes. Of course, Dear. Therapy. Thank you for correcting me.”
The Healer volunteered to dress their sleeping patient, giving the three teen-aged witches just enough time to throw shawls over shoulders before a highly-suspicious nanny was allowed back into the room.
oo00OO00oo
Hermione and her girlfriends found themselves pushed out the door of the hut just as soon as the Healer’s portkey activated. They had expressed a desire to return to their bedroom for a “nap,” but the nanny was insistent on the three getting some fresh air.
They thought it more likely the old witch just wanted Manuel to mind them while she sat in front of the telly. And minding the three witches was something that the manservant was more than happy to do.
“Please, Memsahib, come this way,” he instructed, gesturing towards the beach.
“Not many other ways to go,” Parvati snarked.
It would have been hard to argue otherwise, given the postage stamp size of the island.
A few steps away from the hut placed them on a pristine white-sand beach that ringed the light-green lagoon. A large canopy was set up on the edge, where flowering vines anchored the sand under the shade of a coconut tree. But Hermione’s immediate focus was closer to the water line, where a long fiberglass board sat on the beach next to a rigged sail.
“Brilliant!” she exclaimed, running towards the board. “Haven’t been on one of these since I holidayed with Mum and Dad in France.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a sailboard…Muggle cross between a sailboat and a surfboard.”
“What’s a surfboard?” asked Parvati.
“And how do you fly it?” asked Padma.
“You don’t fly, silly…you float,” Hermione replied, as she grabbed the boom and pulled the mast up off of the sand. “Hold the sail with your hands, like this…and lean back, and let the wind carry you across the water.”
“Oh…so you need wind, then?” asked Parvati.
Hermione nodded as she looked up at the still fronds on top of the handful of trees.
“So much for that idea,” she decided, letting the uphaul rope slip through her grasp.
“Looks like you’d need something to wear other than a sari,” Padma added.
Manuel stepped up and gestured back towards the four-cornered canopy.
“Eeef you please…very good selection of bathing costumes available for your use.”
The three looked at eager man, then shared a skeptical look.
“Might as well have a see?” asked Parvati.
The other two agreed and they followed the manservant up to the canopy, where several wooden chests sat on the edge of a non-flying woven ground cover. Manual enthusiastically dashed towards one of the chests, dropped to his knees, and began to rummage around inside.
“Yes, please, just one moment…very good choice, please……ah! Si! Si! Si!”
The pseudo-Spaniard jumped up in triumph, holding three small bits of fabric in his hands.
“If you please, Memsahibs…” he nearly shouted, turning back towards the three witches. He stopped in front of Hermione, dropped to his knees, then pressed one of the bits of fabric in string against the front of her sari skirt.
“Blue is looking very good color,” he declared, pushing the “garment” into Hermione’s hand. And before anyone could say anything, he hobbled on his knees over to the twins and offered up bits of pink and black material.
Padma held Manuel’s offering up to her skeptical eye.
“Manuel?”
“Si?”
“This is a swimming costume?”
“Si!”
“So where’s the top part?”
“Que?”
“The other half?”
“Que?”
“The bra?”
“Que?”
“Never mind the top,” Parvati chimed in, giving her own present a look-over. “This is supposed to be a bottom?”
“Si!”
“The bottom part of a swim costume?”
“Si, si!”
Parvati held the triangular piece of fabric against her front.
“So where’s the back?”
“Que?”
“The back of these bottoms?”
“Que?”
“The part that covers your bum?”
“Que?”
But then Manuel’s eyes lit up. “Ahhhh! Si, si, si!”
Then he pointed down to the dangling thinnest corner of the triangle, barely half a centimeter wide, and smiled.
“Aqui!”
“What…that’s what covers your bum?” Padma asked incredulously.
Hermione, who had been chuckling during the entire dialogue, finally decided to help explain.
“They’re a kind of Muggle swim costume called a thong,” she stated. “Or at least I think they are.”
“Si! A thoooong!” Manuel agreed. “Very beautiful swimming costume for very beautiful ladies.”
“Very skimpy costumes, too,” said Padma. “Let me guess, then…there is no top?”
“Nope.”
“And it’s just this bit of floss to cover your bum?”
“Ah, yes….at least I think so.”
Hermione turned to Manuel and asked, “So where’s the waistband?”
“Que?”
“The top part?”
“Que?”
The bushy-haired witch rolled her eyes. “How do you put it on?”
“Ah…..Si, si, si!”
Manuel then took Hermione’s bit of fabric, and held it against the front of his black pants (which he thankfully kept on during the demonstration).
What followed was a very funny scene that involved Manuel trying to figure out how to tie the thong around his waist. He twisted and turned like a cat chasing his tail without being able to get the thing to stay in place. It really was much funnier to watch than read about it, though.
Padma used this time to look at her own bit of fabric, and managed to figure out how it worked.
“That longer piece of string is the waistline,” she declared. “It goes around one hip, through the loop at the end of the triangle, and then around the other hip, where you tie it to the shorter piece of string on the other side of the front.”
“How?” Parvati asked. “Why don’t you show us?”
“Erm…because I’m wearing a sari?”
“So take it off, Sis.”
“In front of Manuel?”
“Then help him put that one on, Little Miss Ravenclaw.”
Padma frowned.
“Does it really matter?” she asked. “Are you going to wear it once I do?”
“Good point,” Hermione decided. “Manuel, do you have any other swim costumes that are more…conservative?”
“Que?”
“Right…didn’t think so.”
“Not to worry, Memsahib…there is most excellent magic working for you.”
“Really?”
“Yes, please. Very much no worry about showing me your lovely bum.”
“What!” Hermione yelled, barely resisting the urge to cuff him herself.
Manuel flinched away from Hermione’s raised hand.
“Si! Si! Is because of my job, Memsahib…dees-cretion from what I see.”
“You mean discretion?”
“Yes, Memsahib,” Manuel replied taking two steps away from the witch. “Eef you show me your most lovely bits…I see, but I no remember what I see.”
“What are you on about?” asked Parvati. “Some kind of memory charm?”
“Yes, Memsahib. During the day, I see. And eef you wish…I could touch…and rub oil on your lovely bodies. No problems. I no remember. I would be most pleased to assist you.”
“Yeah, I bet you would,” Padma muttered. “But there is some memory charm at work, right?”
“Yes, Memsahib.”
“When exactly does it work, then?”
The mustachioed manservant frowned in thought.
“I am not certain, Memsahib,” he admitted. “I forget sometime between the rubbing of the lovely lady bits…and the time when I am alone in bed and wish to rub myself.”
“You’re having us on,” Padma skeptically declared.
“No, no! Ees true!”
Hermione was unconvinced.
“Maybe something we can independently verify,” she decided. “Ask Auntie about it tonight?”
“Alright,” Padma replied. “In the meantime, we can at least lose the shawl tops, right?”
The other two agreed, and slipped the upper half of the sari off of their shoulders.
“Oh! Very Good!” Manuel exclaimed, taking in a sharp breath.
“What?”
Parvati chuckled, and pointed towards Hermione’s bared middle.
“Remember just how sexy your belly button is, sweetheart?”
Hermione rolled her eyes, turned away from the man, and looked inside the opened trunk.
“Hopefully that’s something Manuel will soon forget. Right, so what else is there to play with…hey, are these flying carpets?”
Parvati walked over and nodded. “Looks like it…there’s the kazis.”
“Fancy another ride?” asked Padma, glancing over Hermione’s shoulder. She frowned when she saw the stack of extremely narrow two-foot wide, three-foot long woven rugs. “Oh, but they’re all runners, aren’t they?”
“Ah, like those lay-on-your-belly models we saw last night,” Hermione stated. “Wonder what they’re for, then?”
Manuel stepped up and announced, “The Maharajah has a most enjoyable time playing Beach Quidditch, Memsahibs.”
“Beach Quidditch?” asked Paravti. “On carpets?”
“Yes, Memsahib...please, if you wish to see...the rings, they are hidden in the trees on each side of the lagoon.”
“So you play over the water, instead of a pitch, and use these instead of brooms?”
“Yes, Memsahib.”
“Sounds like fun,” Parvati declared.
“Sounds like a good way to break your neck,” Hermione replied.
“It ees very safe,” Manuel stated. “Memsahibs already knowing how to fly, yes?”
“Only on a broom,” Hermione admitted.
“We’ve flown a bit on carpets,” offered Parvati. “But just the bigger steer-with-your-bum models.”
“I would be most pleased to teach,” said Manuel. He grabbed one of the small circular cushions and positioned it in front of his crotch. “It is much the same...to turn left you turn this way…to turn right you turn that way. Spread your legs to climb, bring them together to dive.”
“Dare I ask how you control the speed?” asked Hermione.
“Yes, Memsahib,” grinned Manuel. “Thrust and clench the buttocks to accelerate…draw back and relax the buttocks to brake.”
Hermione snorted at the sight of the small manservant dry humping the seat cushion.
“Thrust…..relax…thrurst…relax….thrust….”
“Yes, thank you, Manuel…I get it.”
The grinning manservant nodded his head. “Very good, Memsahib...so you will try, yes?”
Hermione chewed on her lower lip and look back towards the hut.
“I’d rather be trying to ride something else, but…”
“Wouldn’t we all!” Parvati exclaimed.
oo00OO00oo
A/N: Once upon a time, twenty years and four stone ago, I actually wore one of those string thong thingies on the beaches of South India. Seemed only fair, since that’s all most of the women were wearing at the time.