The Sweat of a Gladiator
Chapter 4: Crises Averted
By canoncansodoff
Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.
About twenty-five minutes before Harry negotiated the deal that saved Ron's life, Roger Granger politely declined his wife's invitation to help condom shop. It was therefore Hermione, Tonks and her mum that briskly walked down to the corner chemist (while still under the impression that they needed to collect some shaggy sweat before noon).
“So tell me Hermione,” her mum asked along the way, “where on earth did you ever learn to do that little happy dance?”
“Forget where,” Tonks piped in, “I want to hear why she was doing it.”
“Sussh, Tonks,” Hermione replied, “I'm certain you have a fair idea why.”
“Well sure,” the Auror replied, “Why else would you turn beet red whenever I tease you about how Harry makes your points all perky when…
“Tonks!”
“Relax, Hermione,” Emily Granger said with a smile, “your father can't hear us from the surgery, and it makes me feel a little better knowing that you actually like the boy you'll be shagging.”
“Mum!”
“Oh, I'd say it's long been past liking Harry for some time now,” Tonks said brightly. “Did you ever hear about the time I caught Harry and Hermione claiming innocence when they were…”
Hermione whipped out her mobile phone and pointed it at Tonks. “Stop right there, Tonks, or else.”
The pink-haired Auror laughed. “Or else what, Hermione…you'll ring up a hex?”
“Better,” said Hermione with a nasty-looking smile. “I'll ring up your Muggleborn father.”
Tonks laughed again, although this time it wasn't quite as boisterous. “Go ahead, Hermione, I'm a twenty-four year old witch, and you couldn't tell him anything that would embarrass me.”
“Oh yeah?” Hermione challenged. “Let's ask Mum's opinion…Hey Mum, did I ever tell you about the time I walked in on Tonks and Professor Lupin? She was dressed up as Little Red Riding Hood and bouncing up and down on the Big Bad Wolf.”
Tonks let out a dismissive sigh. “Hermione, Remus and I are adults and there's nothing to be…”
“How about the time you used your metamorph skills to grow four more tits down your front and asked Remus if he wanted to suckle?”
“Hermione, language!” her mother admonished lightly.
“Sorry, Mum, just trying to accurately quote so that you have a clear idea.”
Emily looked at Tonks oddly and said, “Thank you, but the imagery was clear enough.”
“Or hey Tonks,” Hermione added, “do you remember that night you told Remus that it was your turn to be the Alpha, and then you bent him over and supersized your….”
“Alright! Alright! I'll play nice!” Tonks said with a fluster.
Hermione gave her friend a satisfied grin and pocketed her mobile while her mother looked at Tonks with amazement. Tonks slowed down just a step and grabbed Hermione's arm. “How did you find out about that last two?” she hissed.
Hermione shook her head and smiled. “My lips are sealed.”
Tonks leaned over and whispered into Hermione's ear, “Yeah sure, but only until Harry Jr. spreads them wide open, eh?”
Hermione's ears burned red. “Tonks!” she hissed back.
Mrs. Granger looked over her shoulder and asked, “What are you whispering about ladies?”
They had finally reached the chemist's storefront, and a melodic door chime announced their entrance.
“Saved by the bell,” Hermione said brightly, as she followed her mum inside. As she passed by Tonks she lowered her voice and leaned towards her older friend.
“I'll have you know, Tonks, that his name is Mr. Phoenix.”
Tonks's eyes went wide with surprise. “Harry named his wand Mr. Phoenix?”
Hermione shook her head slightly and gave Tonks the kind of serene smile she so often saw on Luna's face. “No,” she whispered in reply, “I did.”
It only took the young Auror a few beats to work out the metaphorical reference. Her resultant laughter swept all three into the store.
oo00OO00oo
Charlie Parker had run the corner chemist's for more than thirty years, and known the Grangers for two-thirds of that time. It was, in fact, his friendly demeanor and helpful advice that had convinced Hermione's parents to establish their surgery in that part of town. He and his wife Helen were frequent guests in the Granger household, and they had treated Hermione like the granddaughter he never had.
Once she realized which chemist they'd be visiting, Hermione had hoped that the combination of Charlie's advancing age and her relative absence over the past six or seven years would keep her from being recognized. Her mother, however, would have none of that.
“Morning, Charlie,” Emily Granger said, “look who's paying us a visit today.”
The chemist looked up and smiled. “Well, as I live and breathe, is that your daughter Hermione?” he asked. “I wouldn't have recognized you child, you've gone and grown up while I wasn't looking.”
“Yes, she has become quite the young adult,” Emily said with a grin.
“Nice to see you again, Mr. Parker.”
“Hey now, young lady,” he replied, “to you I'm always Grandpa Charlie.”
“Okay, Grandpa Charlie, I'd like to introduce my good friend, Dora Tonks.”
“Pleased to meet you Mr. Parker,” Tonks said with an outstretched hand.
Charlie nodded his reply, saying, “Any friend of this fine young girl…say, did you know I was the source for Hermione's nappies when she was just a tyke?”
“Really?”
“Oh yes, quite often I'd deliver them when the wife and I visited her mum and dad's. Changed a few of them too…called it my `full service' program.”
Hermione, who had heard that story far too many times, tried to move the visit along. “Grandpa Charlie, I'm sorry that we can't stay and chat, but we're in a bit of a pinch for time, and we need to buy, erm…that's to say, well, my friend here is visiting with her, erm…husband, and they forgot to pack the, erm…”
“Do you sell condoms?” Tonks abruptly asked in a bright and cheery voice.
Charlie squinted a bit at Tonks, but was quick enough to recover his professional demeanor.
“Certainly, Mrs. Tonks,” he said, as he came out from behind the counter. “Right this way.”
Tonks let out a rather large snort at the sound of her mum's name, which caused Hermione to swat her arm once Charlie's back was turned. As he led the three women down an aisle, her mother softly chided her daughter, saying, “There's no need to be embarrassed about being responsible, Hermione.”
“Mum!” Hermione hissed. Odds that the chemist's hearing aid was turned down seemed slim when she noticed that Charlie's head twisted back around towards them just a bit.
Charlie stopped in front of a display and turned towards the three. “Here you are, erm…Mrs. Tonks…if you have any questions…”
“Then we'll know who and where to ask,” Hermione said with a smile. “Thank you, Grandpa Charlie.”
The man smiled, “Anything for you, Hermione.”
oo00OO00oo
Hermione decided that they had enough time to explain to Tonks the differences between regular and “magnum,” lubricated and non-lubricated, latex and sheepskin, and thin and extra-thin. Given the circumstances, they had narrowed the choices down a bit, choosing “regular”, “lubricated”, “latex”, and “as thick as possible.”
The bushy-haired teenager tried her best to ignore a few of the choices, but Tonks was having too good a time embarrassing her not to ask, “Hey Hermione, what about these fruit-flavored ones?” That question was quickly followed by a short discussion between Tonks and Emily on the relative benefits of “ribbed, for her pleasure,” and “studded, for her pleasure.” It was left to Hermione to point out that it would be uncomfortable enough for her the first time without that extra friction.
“Maybe for you, Hermione,” Tonks said with a grin, as she threw both boxes into their shopping bag. “You know,” the Auror added, “that pensieve remote control idea was clever, but if you really wanted to rake in the galleons you'd invent the spell that would grow those bumps and ribs directly onto a wizard's wand.”
Hermione snorted. “On a temporary or permanent basis?”
“Oh, temporary, of course,” Tonks replied with a smile. “Of course, you might have a hard time recruiting test subjects during the development phase.” She then picked a third box off of the display and cooed, “Ooh, here you go, Hermione, this one is smooth, but promises `Extended Pleasure.' What's it do, extend the length of the bloke's willie?”
“Tonks!” Hermione snatched the box out of her hands and took a closer look. “Latex condom with desensitizing cream.” She nodded, saying, “Hey, this might actually help.”
“What's a desensitizing cream?”
“Erm..some sort of topical anesthetic,” Hermione replied. “Numbs you up, so you don't feel anything.”
Tonks frowned. “Well I know that you're worried about the pain of the first time, but is it really necessary for you not to feel anything?”
“Silly Tonks,” Emily Granger replied. “The cream is inside of the condom, not outside. It's for the guy.”
“Ah,” Tonks replied, “So if the bloke can't feel as much, then he lasts longer?”
“Exactly.” Hermione looked at the box, then back to the display and frowned. “Looks like it only comes in one dosage. You would think that they'd have an extra strength version for teen-aged boys.”
“Yes, well you wouldn't want to freeze it completely off, would you?” Mrs. Granger asked with a smile.
“Mum,” asked Hermione, as she handed her the box, “This desensitizer…is it anything like the anesthetic that you use in your dental practice?”
Mrs. Granger looked at her daughter a bit strangely. “What are you thinking dear, that I would stick a needle into Harry's willie in order to numb it up?”
“No, no, no…nothing that drastic,” Hermione replied with a smirk, “although I could see that curbing his enthusiasm….I was thinking more about that soaked cotton swab you put up against a patient's gum where you plan on sticking them.”
“Oh…well…let's have a look,” her mother said, as Hermione handed her the box. She glanced at the fine print and said, “Benzocaine…yes, I thought so.” She then turned to her daughter. “I'm afraid that a penile Novocain dunking would work just a little too well for your needs, dear.”
“Why's that?”
“Well, while Novocain and benzocaine have the same numbing effect and roughly similar chemical structures, Novocain has the added benefit of being a vasoconstrictor.”
Tonks furrowed her eyebrows. “Meaning?”
Dr. Granger turned towards the Auror. “It makes blood vessels constrict. Quite useful when you want to control bleeding, but rather counterproductive when you want to encourage blood flow to erectile tissue.”
Hermione snorted. “Viagra in reverse,” she observed. “Okay, so we can't nip some of your numbing agents from the office. Is there a way that we can get something a little stronger than this benzocaine to slow Harry down long enough to get the sweat that we'll need?”
Her mother thought for a moment before calling out, “Charlie?”
The elderly chemist once again came out from behind the counter.
“Charlie,” Emily asked, “Do you have any lidocaine-dosed dermal patches?”
The chemist looked down at the box of “Extended Pleasure” condoms in her hand, then back up at Emily's face. “Yes, I do, Dr. Granger, although I'm not sure that they are an NHS-approved treatment for what you might be needing to fix.”
“Yes, well, there's no time for Hermione's friend…”
“Mum!”
“Erm, I sorry…no time for Mr. Tonks to undertake the traditional `squeeze and release' regimen.”
“Really?” the chemist asked, now thoroughly confused. “Well, you certainly can proscribe a supply, but I'm also certain that the NHS insurance program won't cover the cost.”
“Thanks, Charlie, that won't be a problem.” As the chemist walked back behind the counter to check on his stock, Hermione's mum started to muse. “Now….” she put her hand up to her chin in thought. “Might have to cut the patch down a bit, depending on his size, but that would affect dosage….Hermione exactly how large is Harry's penis?
“Mum, do you really need to know?”
Tonks and her mum looked at each other, then turned as one and said, “Yes.”
Hermione shook her head. She'd had her fill of their embarrassing antics, and thought that it just might be time to turn the tables. With a bit of evil grin, she turned her back to the chemist's counter, reached into her bag and pulled out the transformed stapler.
“Here, see for yourself.”
“No!” exclaimed Tonks with a rakish grin. “Really?”
“Hermione?” her mum asked with some uncertainty. “You didn't hex it off, or petrify it…did you?”
“No, of course not…I just transfigured your office stapler.”
“So this, erm…phallus…it's a replica, then.” her mum realized with relief. She then chuckled. “You know, you really don't have to boost Harry's ego when he's not within earshot, dear.”
“No, that's the real size,” Hermione replied with a smile.
“Oh, well then…” her mum said rather quietly. “You might want to bring along a box of `magnums' just in case.” She then turned and called out, “Say Charlie, how big are those patches?”
“Looks like ten centimeters wide by eighteen long.”
“Well he's got the length covered, then,” Tonks said, giving Hermione a wink.
“Yes, I would say so,” Emily replied. “But I don't think we should wrap it completely…maybe we should cut it into centimeter wide strips?”
“Why do that?” Hermione asked.
“Well, it'd give you some dosage control,” her mum replied. “Put five or six on lengthwise, and if it numbs him so much he can't stay firm, you could just peel one or two off.”
“Ouch,” Tonks said. “That sounds painful.”
“Hmmm,” Emily thought. “I hadn't thought of that…the adhesive is pretty solid.”
“Harry will love having them ripped off afterwards, then,” Tonks snickered.
Hermione laughed. “I think Poppy could take care of that,” she replied. “Seems like every year at least one male student fancies themselves a merry prankster and casts a sticking charm on a classmate's wand hand just before he tries to use the loo.”
Hermione then asked a different question. “Mum, we won't have a whole lot of time to experiment… what if it works too well and Harry can't get it back up?”
“Hmmm…you're right,” her mother replied. “It would be best to run a little clinical trial on another test subject.”
Tonks looked around at the group and observed, “Nobody around here but us girls, unless you've got faith in the chemist.”
“Well, Tonks,” Hermione pointed out, “you can fix that, can't you?”
Tonks shook her head. “Sure, I could morph into Harry…even better than I used to, now that I've got some additional information on his bits. But that's not going to help test the plumbing.”
“Oh yeah,” Hermione remembered. “You'd have to be an animagus.”
“Well then,” Emily decided, “we could always enlist your father.”
“Absolutely not, Mum!”
“Oh, Hermione, grow up,” her mum chided. “It's not like you leapt fully formed from your father's head like Athena.”
Hermione let out a huge sigh. “Well,” she concluded, “we don't have time to do that test…we'll just have to go with what we have.” She then looked at her watch and said with a bit of alarm, “Barely forty minutes remaining.” She grabbed the desensitizing cream condoms, a tube of spermicidal cream, and a tube of lubricant and threw them into the bag.
“Sorry Mum, but we've got to run.”
“I understand, dear.” The chemist had just returned with the dermal patches, and rang them up along with the other items, doing his best not to imagine what his customers had planned.
With assurances that she'd be safe, and would return with an update later in the day, Hermione gave her mum a quick kiss and full bear hug, and ran out onto the sidewalk with Tonks close behind.
oo00OO00oo
It took a few minutes for Hermione and Tonks to get to their normal apparition point, and a few minutes more to wait for a lorry driver to finish a delivery and clear out from what was typically a deserted alley. When finally in the clear, they apparated to the front gates of Hogwarts. More time was lost when their “Accio broom” commands failed to provide a quick commute to the castle. There were thus forced to waste another five minutes time to run from the gate to the front door. Once inside they split up; Hermione headed towards the Room of Requirement while Tonks made her way to the Headmistress's Office to provide an update.
It seemed that Murphy's law was fully in effect; they'd arrived at the castle right at passing time, and the hallways were filled with students making they way between their different classes. As she dodged and weaved her way up to the Castle's seventh floor, Hermione decided that it was a good thing that they'd taken up a regular exercise program over the summer. She also thought it somewhat ironic that with all of the running it'd be far easier to collect the sweat off of her skin rather than Harry's. She then made a mental note to ask why the sweat of a powerful warrior-witch wasn't just as valuable.
Hermione rounded the last hallway corner expecting to see an anxious Harry waiting for her in front of the Room of Requirement. She was therefore caught off-guard when she spied Dobby standing there. She glanced at her watch and noticed that it was still fifteen minutes before noon; not a lot of time to enjoy what they needed to do, but time enough to get the job done.
“Dobby,” she called out in a panic, “Where's Harry?”
The house-elf smiled and said, “Mr. Harry Potter sir told Dobby to wait here for his `Mione. Said to tell you that he, Miss Luna and Miss Susan went down in the infirmary to check on Mr. Ron.”
“What?” Hermione asked with alarm. “Is Ron okay?”
Dobby nodded. “Mr. Harry Potter sir got the antidote from the hag and saved Mr. Ron's life. He told Dobby to ask his `Mione to join them.”
All color drained from Hermione's face, as she fought the urge to scream out in anguish. After gathering some inner strength, she thanked Dobby for his help and turned to run downstairs before catching herself.
“No need to rush about now,” she thought, as her heartbeat still raced and sweat poured off of her brow from her run. She then began the long walk downstairs, desperately trying to piece together what might have happened.
Harry must have shagged Luna, with Susan collecting his sweat. That's what had to have happened, but the important question was why? They still had time…why didn't he wait for her? Did he change his mind about his choice? She recalled what Tonks had told them…that the hag was going to check on Ron's condition. Maybe there had been less time then they had thought? Maybe Harry didn't have time to wait for her? Despite all of Harry's assurances, all of her self-doubt and insecurities rose back up to the surface.
When she reached the infirmary's entrance she paused for a minute, deciding whether she even wanted to know what had happened…what Harry had done to save Ron's life, and who he had done. How would she ever be able to face Harry again, after all that had happened that morning? After all that they had done…all that she had done…stripping in front of him, trying to suck her own nipples, practically forcing him to strip for her, giving him a hand-job….
As she pulled her hand away from the door handle she grazed the belt pouch that held her chemist's purchases. She suddenly wanted nothing to do with them, and threw the boxes down onto the floor.
Now what? Gryffindor or no, she couldn't face Harry right then. But where to go? Back to her parents? Like facing them now would be any easier. With eyes cast firmly on the stone floor in front of her, Hermione walked towards the castle doors, accompanied only by her thoughts of what might have been.
oo00OO00oo
Hermione sat by the lake under her favorite study tree and welcomed the bracing November rains. It helped, of course, that she had cast a new and improved “bubblebody” charm; such were the benefits of being the smartest witch in her generation.
What the charm didn't help was the disappointment in herself. She'd worked hard that summer to develop a bubble big enough for three people (as their Horcrux hunt had sent them deep sea diving in the North Sea), but completely forgotten about the charm that morning. Had she cast that bubble rather than apparated away when they fell into the poison, then Ron wouldn't have swallowed the poison, and Harry wouldn't have shagged somebody else.
But the important thing was that Ron was now safe. Focusing on that fact helped improve her attitude as she sat by the lake. She even turned it into a calming Machiavellian mantra: “The ends justify the means…The ends justify the means…The ends justify the means.” But then her thoughts shifted from Ron to Mr. Phoenix, and the mantra evolved from “The ends justify the means,” to “He bends me over just before I cream.” And that lovely thought filled her mind so well that she failed to notice Harry's approach. Until, that is, he threw an opened box of condoms onto her lap.
“Did you mean to drop those?” he asked. “Because Poppy was thinking you might have been trying to make an anonymous donation.”
Hermione looked down at the box, then turned towards Harry as he plopped himself down on the wet grass. She smiled and shifted the dry bubble of air to cover him. “Dare I ask why the box is opened?”
“Oh, well…sorry, but we needed to use a few.”
“What, did Ron suffer a relapse?”
“Oh, no, nothing like that…Mr. and Mrs. Weasley didn't have the slightest idea what they were. I was too embarrassed to tell them the truth, so I passed them off as Muggle balloons.”
“And?”
“And Mr. Weasley wanted to see some inflated.”
“Oh my… and just how did you explain away the lubricant?”
“Muggle toothpaste.”
“Did you have to demonstrate that as well?”
“Thankfully, no.”
Hermione smiled, despite herself, and then asked, “So how is Ron doing?”
“About as well as could be imagined,” Harry replied. “He was actually lucid for a bit, until Luna whispered into his ear about the hag's deal.”
“Was he upset?”
“Hard to say…his face turned white and then he fainted, but I think that was more because of Luna's whispering than the poison…sent the blood from his big head straight to his littler one.
“Hmmm…guess near-death experiences force you to focus on what and who are important in your life.”
Harry looked at her very seriously, and said, “Yes…indeed they do.”
Missing the emotion behind that reply, Hermione tried to continue the playful banter. “Say, why don't you give these condoms to the twins, since we don't need them anymore.”
Harry looked at her a bit strangely. “Hermione,” he asked, “I know you won't be quite as fertile six or seven days from now, but there's still the risk, right? Unless you fancy a spanking, or changed your mind about doing it with me.”
Hermione jerked her head towards Harry and scowled. “Unless I fancy a what? Unless I changed my mind? Oh, that's rich!”
“What are you on about?” Harry asked. He looked at her for a few tense moments then realized why she was acting strange. “Wait a minute,” he said. “You don't know what happened, do you?”
“What's to know? You were pressed for time, Ron needed the antidote, so you shagged Luna and Susan collected some shaggy sweat…no doubt rubbing much more than that blade across your bum.”
Harry's heart raced as Hermione's misconceptions confirmed his realization. He broke out laughing, which caused Hermione to punch him in the arm. “Ouch…Hermione…Luna and Susan didn't do anything, and…and you're jealous, aren't you?”
“What, me? Jealous of what?”
Harry shook his head with a grin that stretched across his face. “Here you were, all business-like, acting professional. Making the noble sacrifice for Ron when you volunteered to shag me, and then you played with your nipples, and wanked me off…and all that time you weren't doing it because you had to, you were doing it because you wanted to!”
“No! Don't be silly!”
“Of course you did...that's why you were sitting out here in the rain wading knee-deep in angst…you, Hermione Jane Granger fancy me, and the thought that I might have shagged Luna or Susan nearly killed you.”
“Might have shagged,” she asked with a shaky voice, “you mean that you didn't?”
Harry reached an arm around Hermione's shoulder and pulled her body close enough to lean his forehead up against hers. “No, I did not.”
“Then how did…Ron's still got the…I don't understand.”
Harry thought for a moment about how he might explain the deal he brokered or Susan's hypothetical story. “I'm afraid you still might not, even if I told you,” he explained. “It would sound too implausible.” He then gave her a quick kiss on the lips, stood, and pulled her up onto her feet. “You didn't happen to bring the pensieve back with you did you?”
Hermione nodded absently, all of her focus on the tingling within her lips. “Got the bottled memory as well.”
“Good, because I need to show you something.”
“Should we head back to the castle, then?” she asked.
Harry gave her hand a squeeze and smiled. “Ron's going to be stuck in the infirmary for a few days…why don't you and I head home?”
Her mind racing at what might happened now that what she feared might have happened didn't happen, Hermione nodded, then let Harry lead her out beyond the castle's anti-apparition fields.
oo00OO00oo
Harry and Hermione had been shocked when Kingsley Shacklebolt had brought word earlier that summer that the Muggle Prime Minister wanted to hear their opinions on the fight against Voldemort. The Muggle leader had described his disappointment with Fudge and Scrimgeour, and offered Harry the discrete but full support of Her Majesty's Muggle government.
And so it was that the “home” that Harry and Hermione apparated to was a thirteenth-century stone tower located within the Tower of London's curtain wall. The “Salt Tower” was one of the many smaller towers clustered around the “Tower” proper. Muggle Londoners considered it haunted (it was supposedly too frightening for even dogs to enter). But the government had encouraged that story, as the Royal Family's entire collection of magical objects had been transferred there after the last Goblin rebellion. While none of these objects were very valuable on their own, over the years they had collectively raised the ambient magical energy of the area to levels far above background. This high background masked the use of any magic (short of unforgivables) from the Ministry's remote sensors. It was, therefore, an ideal hiding spot from both magical enemies and Muggle trespassers.
They lived in the top half of the tower, above where the magical inventory was stored. While access to this part of the tower consisted of trap doors and ladders, it was easy enough to apparate in and out (though Ron still complained of the side-arming). The lack of Muggle utility services wasn't a problem either; the magical tent that they had pitched on the bare stone floor was roughly twice the size of what they'd used during the Quidditch World Cup, and provided very comfortable living quarters.
Harry and Hermione appeared with a small “pop” just outside the magical tent flaps. Harry ducked inside to retrieve the small wooden table he typically used to support the pensieve, then called for Hedwig (who had turned the tower's cap into a very nice home for herself). By the time Hermione had used the loo and found Crookshanks, Harry had already arranged for Dobby's help, enlarged the pensieve, and readied his wand to extract the memory that he wanted to share.
It was a procedure that they'd developed over time. Harry hadn't realized until he had inherited Dumbledore's pensieve just how rare a magical object it was. Smaller pensieves capable of projecting memories above the bowl were common enough (it was for this type of pensieve that Hermione had built her remote control). But few were capable of drawing the viewers directly into the memory, as Harry had done so many times with Dumbledore. This was due, in small part, to the risk that was taken each time a wizard or witch dove into a memory. The process was a very limited form of astral projection; the mind was transported into the pensieve, while the body was left behind. Within a memory, a witch or wizard had little contact with the physical world; their senses limited primarily to touch. This left the person vulnerable to an attack. You could always pull yourself out of a memory before it finished, but if you didn't recognize the danger until you felt the pain of a hex, you might well be dead.
It wasn't surprising that, given this exposure, Dumbledore had rarely let his pensieve out of his well-guarded office. To compensate for Hogwart's wards, Harry and Hermione had enlisted the aid of both of their familiars. Hedwig and Crookshanks were their eyes and ears, and had magical connections with their owners that could (if need be) break them out of the memory. Dobby's presence was added insurance; while he couldn't pull them out of the memory himself, he could quickly explain the situation if their familiars ever did.
When Ron was with them they usually projected the memories (as Pig wasn't any more reliable a sentinel than delivery owl), but whenever it was just the two they preferred to dive (as you could see far more and in far greater detail from within the memory).
When everyone was in place, Harry dumped the memory into the pensieve and swirled it with his wand, saying the incantation that would draw them into the memory. As he felt himself being sucked into the bowl and past the streaming bright lights he reached out for Hermione's hand. That they could hold hands within a memory (and often did, given how scary some of them had been) while their physical bodies weren't touching was one of the many things about the whole process that had caught his curiosity, but he had never really explored.
They landed feet on the floor in a corner of the Headmistress's office (that was another curiosity - the fact that they weren't supposed to be physically affected by objects within the memory didn't stop the memory-floor from providing solid footing). Harry had started the memory just as he and Luna had flown through the window. This meant, of course, that they soon had to travel with memory-Harry when he flew down to the Quidditch pitch for some sweaty exercise. When Hermione started to experience vertigo from all of the twists and dives and inverts, she closed her eyes and buried her face in Harry's chest. With a few minutes of memory time to kill, Harry decided to explore some of his questions with Hermione as he wrapped her in his arms.
“Hermione?”
“Yes Harry.”
“I know you probably have your eyes closed, but can you feel my heart beating?”
“Sure…let me guess, you're going to claim it's from the snuggling rather than the flying.”
“Well actually, it is. I can't really feel the wind whipping through my hair, but I can feel your warm breath on my t-shirt, and when I nestle my nose in your hair I can smell the lilac and vanilla fragrances from the shampoo that you use.”
“So?”
“So do you think that the warmth, and the touch and the smells are real, or just inside my head?”
“Well…unless you managed to stick your nose into my hair back at the tower, it has to be inside your head…or more like inside a combined head, since we're on this trip together.”
“That's what I was thinking as well. It feels sort of like a shared dream, only with parts that we can control.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well…I can't change the altitude of that sloth move I just completed in my memory, but I can change the altitude of my hand down your back, and grab your…”
“Hey!”
“So tell me Hermione, did you just feel me grab your arse?”
“Of course I did you prat, and I suggest that you move that hand northwards unless you want me to…”
“Ooof!”
“…want me to squeeze your testicles any harder than I am right now.”
“Okay, okay, truce…think that we'll have to ask Dobby when we go back whether he was forced to watch us cop feels.”
“I doubt that he's seeing anything other than our stationary bodies.”
“One way to find out, don't you think?”
When Hermione agreed, they pulled themselves out of the memory. As expected, they found themselves standing apart, and Dobby stated that neither of them had moved from their trance-like stance.
“Really, Dobby?” Hermione asked, as she gazed over at the front of Harry's pants. “You didn't see any body movement at all?”
Dobby blushed and he stammered a bit before confirming that half-way through the process Harry had developed an erection.
“Get off on flying, then, eh Harry?”
“No, no, no…no more than I do at the thought of Susan's ta-ta's. It was our embrace, and the smell of your hair, and the feel of your ar…”
“Alright, I believe you,” Hermione said with a bit of excitement. “No need to go swear another wizard's oath.”
Harry smiled, then suggested that they return to the memory. Hermione agreed, but only after he retrieved the old one and replaced it with a shorter memory that began after Harry had finished flying.
Once back inside the memory, the two held hands and let the scene play without comment until Susan started talking about spell-spanking.
“Why that little witch,” Hermione muttered.
Harry smiled to himself, as her grip on his hand tightened. “Something wrong?”
“You might be a clueless teen-aged boy, Harry, but she isn't.”
Harry watched as Susan jiggled and wiggled her bum on his alter-ego's lap. “No, that's clearly evident, but what does that mean?”
“It means that she knows that she's trying to take what isn't hers!”
“Oh.” Harry didn't dare ask the obvious follow-up question.
“Hey!” Hermione shouted, “Stop that you bitch!”
“Erm, Hermione…you know she can't hear you shouting, right?”
“Yeah, but it makes me feel better all the same.”
They had just past the point where memory-Harry more or less admitted to having an erection in the Headmistress's office when Hermione asked, “So does the thought of spanking Susan's naked arse really excite you, Harry?”
“No.”
“Then why did you get hard after she was talking about it?”
“Because she was rubbing that arse against me the whole time she was talking!”
“So it was only a physical reaction, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Huh…wish I could totally believe that.”
“Oh, Hermione,” Harry said with exasperation, “what is it going to take for me to convince you that the only spanked arse I could even think about getting off on is yours?”
Hermione snorted, then said with a bit of sarcasm, “Oh, Harry, that's so romantic.”
The-Boy-Who-Lived whipped around to face Hermione, grabbed her free hand, and rammed it up against his crotch. “Tell me Hermione, am I hard right now?”
“Erm, no, not really.”
“But I just heard Susan talk about her sticky finger play while her roommate spanked her silly, right?”
Hermione realized where Harry's line of questioning was taking her, and agreed with his conclusion even before he voiced it - a teen-aged boy could get hard from a clothes dryer if it was vibrating hard enough. Noticing that her hand was still trapped against his crotch, Hermione began to massage it lightly. “Yes,” she purred, “and your point?”
Harry closed his eyes and held his breath for a few moments before opening them and staring right into Hermione's. “You know my point, Hermione…you're feeling it right now.”
“Yes, it is getting rather pointy, isn't it?”
Harry looked down and noticed that both of Hermione's nipples were hard and straining the fabric of her shirt. He let go of Hermione's hand, and without dropping eye contact reached up and cupped the sides of her breasts, so that each thumb was directly over a nipple. That caught her breath, and as he ground each thumb in clockwise rotation he simply noted,
“So are you.”
Hermione simply nodded in reply.
“Harry?” she said softly.
Yes, Hermione?”
“You're blocking my view of the memory.”
Harry smiled and softly snorted at the same time.
“I think that I can fix that.”
And before Hermione knew it Harry was behind her, his left arm firm against her chest as his right hand snaked down to her belt buckle. He buried his face in her hair, with gentle nips against her neck as his left hand squeezed hard on her nipple. His right hand snaked up inside her shirt and he began to lightly scrape her skin with his fingernails as he ground his crotch up against her backside.
As Hermione ground back against Harry and tried to control her ragged breath, he put his lips up against her ear and whispered a question.
“Can you see better now?”
Hermione whimpered and she nodded her head.
“Do you want me to stop distracting you?”
Hermione shook her head no.
While memory-Harry began talking with the hag, excited-Harry dragged an index finger horizontally along the top of Hermione's knickers. He thought that he'd gone too far when she pulled his hand away, only to discover that the only problem was that her other nipple needed his attention. So he deftly switched hands, and when Hermione undid her belt buckle and unbuttoned the top button of her jeans he knew where she wanted him to go.
Teasing her without mercy, Harry oh-so-slowly pulled the zipper down to its base. Drawing the flap to the side with the back of his hand, he softly placed the palm of his hand against her knickers. His thumb pulled down on the elastic band just enough to expose a thin band of pubic hair, which he began to play with lightly.
Every coo, every sigh, and every gasp from Hermione's mouth calmed Harry's fears that he was doing the wrong thing, and ruining what he had with his best friend. Every rotation of her hips as she ground up against his erection confirmed that she felt the same way that he did. And when he placed his hand against her knickers and felt how wet they were…
“Please, Harry!” Hermione whined as she once again grabbed his hand. This time, though, she drew it up only to the top of her waistband, in open invitation. Harry obliged, and Hermione let out her loudest gasp yet as he buried his hand inside her knickers.
This was the stuff of Harry's dreams, but only his dreams. Traveling in virgin territory (both for him and for her), it took some time, some patience, some gentle guiding, and lots of positive reinforcement before Harry found his rhythm. When Hermione showed just how appreciative she was by reaching back and grabbing Mr. Phoenix, it was all he could do to keep his control.
Well, actually, it was more than he could control, and he proved it with a warm and sticky release inside of his pants.
Hermione smiled to herself as she brought her hand back and refocused her attention on the magic Harry was performing within her pants. She bore down on his hand, closing her eyes and clenching her teeth, as Harry tried hard to give her what she had just given him. With their attention thus focused, neither noticed as memory-Harry tossed the antidote to Madame Pomfrey.
But they could help but notice when the completed memory started to pull them backwards.
“Nooooooooo!!!!” Hermione cried out. She'd been so, so close……
oo00OO00oo
When Harry regained his senses he immediately noticed several things:
â— They had awoken apart, but both on hands and knees;
â— They were both panting;
â— Real-Hermione's nipples were rock hard, and her face flushed and sweaty;
â— Dobby was looking at them both with dumbfounded amazement; and,
â— The front of his trousers were rather wet.
They looked at each other, both wondering if what just happened had really happened (and if so, on which plane of existence). Harry then turned to Dobby and asked if he had seen any physical contact while their minds had been traveling. Dobby replied no.
He turned back to Hermione, and asked, “So what do we do now?”
The teen-aged witch looked at him, and glanced down at his stained pants. Looking up and catching his gaze, she squeezed her thighs together tightly and rocked back onto her heels.
“Harry,” she finally asked, “did anything just happen in there that you wouldn't want to have happen in real life?”
Harry gulped, then turned and said, “Erm, thanks for your help, Dobby. We'll take it from here.”
Dobby, whose eyes couldn't have gotten any larger than they were just then, nodded with a small smile and disappeared with a small “pop.”
Harry then looked back towards Hermione, and with all of the love and sincerity he could muster, simply said, “No.”
Hermione nodded as she rose to her feet. She then reached out for Harry's hand, and when it was given started to lead him to their tent.
“Well, then,” Hermione said with a smile, “I believe that you have some unfinished business.”