Valentine's Day!

If all the young lasses were flavors of candy,

. . . Some might be icky, but most I'd find dandy.

¸.•*¨*•.¸.•*¨*•.¸.•*¨*•.¸

Lockhart's morale-booster for February 14th, Valentine's Day, had several unintended consequences, not the least of which was confetti drifting from the ceiling into their eggs, beans, bacon, and everything else on the tables. The Professors' reactions to Gilderoy's pronouncements as to their willingness to provide love spells and potions were amusing, and promised great pain in the wizard's near future, or to any students who might actually have the audacity to ask the professors about such things. The dwarfs constantly interrupting classes would probably be hilarious in the future looking back, but right now, they were extremely disruptive.

Malfoy's sneezing red hearts at periodic intervals was quite in tune with the day, and humorous. He was furious at being pranked at least once a week, but hadn't a clue how it was happening. Everyone suspected the twins, but no one could find any real evidence. Professor Snape tried several times to give them detentions, but with only his suspicions at their involvement, Professor McGonagall always reversed the detentions and point losses.

The number of points removed from Gryffindor students for things such as breathing too loud, wasting his time by being in the classroom, and improperly preparing their workstations went up. Point awards to Gryffindor students went up for excellent results transfigurations, being properly attentive, and following instructions so precisely.

Harry clearly was in terror that he might get a "singing" valentine, as threatened by Gilderoy's arrangements, or even just a card. Hermione knew she wouldn't get anything. She watched with a touch of envy at the witches who received cards from boyfriends, or hopefuls.

Later — much, much later, like in June — she would mention to her boys that getting a valentine from either, or both, of them would have been nice — and that they should do so in the future if they wanted to continue in good health.

She would pass off the valentines to the other girls as nice gestures from her friends, but nothing "romantic." Merlin forbid! The three of them were just mates. It means as much as getting Christmas presents from you mates, for Merlin's sake. Acting outraged at the presumption they were involved, instead of being embarrassed, would go a long way towards convincing her audience that the valentines weren't anywhere near as significant as they really were. Especially as she intended to convey to the two wizards that they should send simple valentine's cards to all the girls in their year in Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff, next time — it was the polite to do, after all, an acknowledgement that they exist. A simple 'Happy Valentine's Day' would suffice.

Anyway, Hermione, had a crush on the professor, she had to admit to herself. The famous, published professor, had actually sent her — her, a lowly average student! — a get-well card. That alone earned him her gratitude. Not many people, excepting her two boys, had acknowledged that she had even been hurt when term had started.

Nevertheless, even she had to admit that the man's attitude seemed more than a bit over-the-top. He was, however, everything a witch could want — published with seven books to his name, handsome, accomplished, attentive, erudite, famous — she did mention he had seven books published, right? — and still single. That the upper-year witches were in hot pursuit of the wizard was without question.

While morally reprehensible for him to be having relations with students, there really wasn't anything wrong with it as long as the witches in question were seventeen or older. Based on her mother's naughty books, she knew that he probably crossed that legal line all the way down to the Fifth years — few men, especially wizards, would have the mental fortitude to resist a pretty witch wanting to seduce him.

Not that she cared about him being single.

She had her boys to keep her occupied on that front, now. With her help, they, too, would be handsome (Harry was quickly approaching that stage, and so would Ron based on how Charlie and Bill had turned out — they just needed a little encouragement in appearance and lessons on using certain personal-appearance spells and the like), accomplished (Ha! They had fought both a troll and an evil wizard in their First Year! What would they do by Seventh?), attentive (making progress, there, definitely making progress), erudite (that was an uphill battle, but she was willing to make allowances since they hadn't graduated, yet), famous (Ha! No one could match Harry), and still single (Harry was hers, at the moment, but no one knew that). As for being published authors? She was sure Ron could produce a book on Quidditch without difficulty — he could write 'A History of the Chudley Cannons' while he was asleep! She wasn't sure if Harry would agree to it, but co-authoring a book on their adventures in Hogwarts last year would likely be a bestseller to match anything Lockhart had managed! She already had a vague outline in mind.

They had a free period after Herbology, and again after lunch. That gave them almost three hours free, with lunch in between. She intended to make the most of it by heading to the library to do more research on Slytherin's monster. Ron, meanwhile, had managed to talk Seamus into a chess game. Harry just idly trailed after the other two up to the dorms, which she thought was unusual. Normally, unless he intended a chess-match with Ron, he would follow her and work on his assignments. However, he was becoming obsessed with T.M. Riddle's diary, so she expected he wanted to inspect it, again, in the privacy of his bed, with the curtains drawn.

Ron arrived for lunch without Harry, to her surprise. Ron told her their best mate had disappeared on the way to the common room and that he hadn't seen him since then. That was when she started to worry if something had happened.

Harry looked . . . tired and flushed when he arrived at their table for lunch, and he was a good ten minutes later than Ron, whom, she had to admit, was never late to a meal if he could help it. Harry refused to say why he was late — and he avoided eye contact with her. She asked a few leading questions, but he closed right up. She narrowed her eyes and watched him closely.

Something was just . . . wrong about how Harry acted. His reactions all through lunch were weird. He kept looking over to the Slytherin table, towards the end with the Seventh years, and smirking. Then, as they ate and talked, one moment he appeared about to laugh, and the next scared that he had said something wrong. She would find the underlying cause of this, after lunch. That he kept sneaking worried glances at her and Ron when he thought they weren't paying attention to him merely strengthened her resolve.

As they were getting ready to leave the Great Hall, she could swear he looked relieved!

Unfortunately, her plans suffered a setback when Ron asked her to help with the assignment for Charms class that was coming up after the free period. It was the practical that he was finding difficult. They had an hour between lunch and the class — plenty of time for practice. Professor Flitwick would at least give Ron proper credit for the incantation and execution of movement, even if his wand set fire to the Professor's desk. Again. Hopefully, after her helping him, that wouldn't happen this time.

He really should let Harry buy him a new wand, this incessant misspells were more than a little annoying. Not to mention how much they were holding him back in his classwork.

Harry, naturally, followed them, so she planned to talk with him while Ron was practicing. Partway to the classroom that they normally used when they wanted to practice, he said he needed to go to the bathroom. He didn't return, and then was almost late for the Charms class itself. This time he looked even worse for the wear. His torn rucksack didn't help that image any.

He quickly explained, in a low tone as he sat down, that he had had a run-in with a cupid-dwarf delivering a valentine and that then Malfoy had made a nuisance of himself. He had been lucky to escape without a detention.

After Charms, and making sure no one followed them, Hermione dragged him to an empty classroom — how odd that the castle always seemed to have an empty classroom close at hand when they needed one. Was it anticipating their need? With the way classrooms moved around, it wasn't impossible.

"All right, Harry," she said briskly, "What happened before lunch?" She wasn't in a hurry, they had two hours until dinner. That would be plenty of time for her to get things sorted.

"Nothing'." He stared at the floor, and then his stomach growled.

She frowned. He had eaten quite heartily at lunch; he shouldn't be hungry. She narrowed her eyes. His selections at lunch had been unusual.

She gently placed her fingertips under his chin and lifted until she could see his eyes. He still looked away. She sighed. "Again?" she said rhetorically. He gave an almost imperceptible nod and turned his head away.

They needed somewhere private, again. The broom-closet on the fourth floor beckoned, but someone would surely see them and come to conclusions they didn't want anyone to reach. She sighed, and cast a notice-me-not on the door, followed by as strong a colloportus as she could manage. Then followed those up with silencing spells on the walls, ceiling and floor, and a cushioning charm on the floor. Several on the floor, now that she thought about it, just to be prepared.

Then she turned to face Harry, put her hands on her hips, and tilted her head questioningly.

Harry sighed and rubbed the back of his neck while staring at the floor.

"Harry?" she coaxed softly. "Was it while you were following Ron, after Herbology?

He took a breath and let it slowly. "Okay," he said defeatedly. "I was following Ron and Seamus when I heard something just after we reached the fifth floor. The stairs had shifted while we were on them, and the stairs to the sixth floor were on the opposite side of the stairwell. The sound was down the side corridor, but I didn't see anything. Something wasn't right, I knew, but when I looked for Ron and Seamus they were already on the stairs headed to the sixth floor. Then . . . I don't know what happened next. For some reason I went down that corridor. Then everything went black."

Hermione put her hands over her mouth, horrified. If he weren't in front of her, she would have thought that Malfoy or another student had managed to trap Harry. "And then," she said breathlessly, and stepped closer. On the other hand, he was here and apparently in good condition — and not in the Hospital Wing.

"It was pitch black when I woke up, and when I tried to move, I couldn't. I was stuck to the floor. Then my attacker spoke."

"Did you recognize their voice?" she asked hopefully.

"Not at first," Harry said dryly. "But she said, 'Relax, Mister Potter, if I had wanted to hurt you, you'd be waking up the Hospital Wing.'"

"Isn't that a terrifying thought," Hermione muttered as she watched him shudder.

"I almost missed what she said next." He explained. " 'Well, Mr. Potter, I must say I am impressed. The term is already six weeks old and there isn't a single whisper of a Seventh year witch involved with the Boy-Who-Lived,' she said, and sounded happy. "Very good!"

"That was when I realized it was the Slytherin witch from before."

Hermione swore violently in her head. That bloody bint! That scrubber! That . . . that . . . she couldn't think of any worse names off-hand. How dare she!

" 'Apparently, you, unlike most other wizards, are not one to brag about your accomplishments regarding witches, despite the rumours that claim you're an attention-craving bore.'" Harry shook his head sadly.

"I heard her tapping her shoe. Then she said, 'Funny, that. I don't think I've ever heard you bragging about anything, not even your Quidditch accomplishments. That redheaded berk, Weasley? Yes, but you? No.'

"She was silent a moment, then she said. 'I'm sure that wasn't because of my promise that if you kept quiet I might come back for another tryst or two.' Then she laughed and I think she squatted down beside me because I felt her grab me. Then she said, 'Although, I can see how happy you are at the prospect, now that you know who I am. Or, rather, realized we are not strangers in that matter.'"

He gave Hermione a guilty glance, and looked away, his face flushed red with embarrassment. "I couldn't help it, Mia. As soon as I realized who it was, things just happened. It has a mind of its own." He stopped and stared at the floor.

She sighed, but she also had to smirk at that. It was a lament her mother and father had mentioned to her many times when discussing boys before she left for Hogwarts at the end of each summer. "Just the thought of a pretty girl will sometimes give a bloke an erection. She doesn't even have to be there, your father told me, but if she is and in a hot outfit? It's a guarantee that will happen, especially to teens," her mother had told her this year. "And," her mother had giggled, "It never fails that all I have to do is mention I would like a little 'private time' and your father's ready to go, no matter how inappropriate the place we are."

"The little head always outvotes the big head," her mother had said. "And all it wants is a nice warm place to hide in. And if there's a willing bird right there, well, the old saying is a bird in the hand is worth two in the bushes.

"However, while your boyfriend might fall to temptation once, if it happens more often, then drop him. He obviously hasn't the will-power to remain faithful if you do stay together." Then she had paused a long time. "Unless you like that, or you're into being a swinger and don't mind." Then she shook her head.

From the books her mother had hidden around her parents' bedroom, she knew what her mother meant. She suspected her parents might be swingers, but if they were, they were very careful when she was around. That would explain, however, why they sometimes hired all-night babysitters while they went on "nights out" that didn't have them coming home until the morning. The fact that the harem books her mother had focused on the woman as the one taking care of multiple men while her father's stash had the bloke satisfying multiple women seemed to support that conclusion.

Harry was different, however. He hadn't "fallen to temptation." He had been blackmailed into complying every time. As her mother had told her, it was ridiculously easy to get a recalcitrant boy to react physically, even if he mentally was unwilling. Sometimes, she had said, all it takes is talking about what you want to do, or beginning to undress. After that, the little head always outvotes the big head.

"Oh, Harry," she said consolingly, and hugged him, making no secret of the fact that she wasn't wearing anything under her robes. His reaction to the first was to stiffen slightly, then relax. His reaction to the second was to stiffen in an entirely different manner.

He sighed as he slowly leaned into her hug.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of in your reactions. The human body is built to react to sexual stimulation, regardless of what you might want to happen. For wizards, especially ones in puberty, that means that sometimes just hearing a voice, smelling certain scents, or even just remembering something, can trigger a physical reaction." She leaned back and looked at him. "Almost every wizard in your position would have reacted the same. There is nothing to worry about. In fact, if you hadn't reacted like this," she reached between them to touch the evidence of his physical reaction to her hugging him, "I would have been worried about you."

Harry blushed a bright red.

"What'd she do, Harry?" Had she started playing with him, fondling him, taking advantage of his helplessness? Did she find that dominating her partner was exciting?

Her black-haired paramour was acting just like the very first time this had happened. He had been, once more, in a position of helplessness. Whatever he said or did, it would have no effect on keeping him safe. She sighed. He had been helpless, at the mercy of someone whom he didn't trust, who treated him as a toy. Forced to do what they wanted, then discarded and ignored later. Just like his relatives did.

Except his relatives didn't exploit him sexually. She could only thank Merlin and god that he hadn't been born a female. Who knew what shape he would have been in when he arrived at Hogwarts?

"What'd she do, Harry?" she repeated more softly and hugged him again. She made sure to press her hips to his, trapping the physical evidence of his reaction to her.

He sighed, and wrapped his arms around her.

"She said," he hesitantly started, " 'I'm sure the real reason you said nothing was because you couldn't be sure of what I would do when I heard the rumours.' She had giggled. 'Would I tell my Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff friends why you really were the Heir of Slytherin, and turn the entire school completely against you? Even the Gryffindors would have abandoned you in that case, wouldn't they? A rising Dark Lord in their very House! How terrible, how shameful. What should they do?

" 'Would I tell my Slytherin friends that you had used a confundus and amateurish obliviate on me to take what you wanted? That you pretended to be my fiancé? And later, as the confundus wore off and I noticed the inconsistent memories, that I was able to unravel the obliviate over several weeks — after all, as a mere Second year, that you could even cast and make it work was a miracle — and then I discovered just who it was that had done that to me? How would they have reacted to the Boy-Who-Lived physically abusing a Slytherin that way, I wonder.

" 'Or, I could just confront you in the Great Hall and decry how the Boy-Who-Lived had used a lust potion on me. Do you think anyone would believe your protests? It would be child's play to imply that I was merely one of the latest. Witches you had never noticed would convince themselves that you had somehow sullied them, and that they were due compensation. Your reputation, not one of the best, anyway, would become one of the worst.

" 'Yes, that's why I'm sure you kept quiet, not even confiding in your two little friends.

" 'You couldn't take the chance that I would ruin your schemes and expose your secret to the public. I'm not sure how you got a Troll to attack Miss Granger, just so you could charge in like a Gryffindor and save her muggle-born arse, but it was a great ruse. What better cover for the Heir of Slytherin, and next Dark Lord, then to have an unrepentant, loud-mouthed, muggle-born Gryffindor as a best mate? No Dark Lord true would associate with such a blatant, loud, muggle-born, everyone would reason.

" 'And then there's Weasley. He was easy, wasn't he? He'd do almost anything to be the best mate of the Boy-Who-Lived. Show him the slightest bit of interest and he would be your faithful redheaded house-elf. Always trailing in your wake, hoping to get a tiny bit of your reflected glory — he does brag quite a bit about being the best mate of the Boy-Who-Lived, don't you know.'

" 'With his family's credentials as Dumbledore's faithful followers, having their son firmly at your side would provide one more wall to hide your true self behind, oh Heir of Slytherin,' she said," he concluded bitterly.

Hermione was horrified. She could see how this one Slytherin could destroy Harry's reputation in Hogwarts, and the rest of the wizarding world, as well. And her conclusions about her and Ron! From a Slytherin point of view, with only the facts as they appeared to the school, her conclusions were quite logical if you assumed Harry aware of and hiding his heritage.

"Then she said, 'I bet that's it! That's why Granger mysteriously was injured over the hols! Granger's been spending almost every waking moment in the Library researching since well before that farce of a duelling club. She figured out what I did, didn't she? The charts and histories are all there, in the library, if you look hard enough, without any prejudices. She discovered you were the Heir of Slytherin, and you couldn't have that, could you? You had to shut her up.

" 'You couldn't kill her when she confronted you on Christmas day — that was why she ended up in Hospital that day. There were only the Weasleys and five others in the castle, you would have been quickly unmasked. The monster was in the Chamber of Secrets and you couldn't get to it to do anything before she reported what she had found. You couldn't blame the monster for anything — none of the spells you know mimics what the monster does, and it hasn't actually killed anyone, yet, either. If she just disappeared, they wouldn't stop until they found her.

" 'So you decided to try to obliviate her.' She laughed after saying that. 'Maybe my ruse of claiming to being obliviated wouldn't have been that far off track! But you're still young, and obliviate is a difficult spell to cast properly without a lot of practice and power, even N.E.W.T-level students have problems with control and using it. Skill that I bet you don't have. Even if you did have the skill, it wouldn't be very powerful. A master legilimens could easily undo the spell if he looked for it.'

"I heard her stand and start pacing. 'So you had to make them think it was something else. It wouldn't be hard to make an obliviate mess up someone's coordination. The trick is usually not manifesting a physical symptom! With an obvious physical problem, they'd never think to look for an obliviate.

" 'Very good, my little Gryffindor, how so very Slytherin. For all of this term, now that I think on it, she has been clumsy. I saw that you and Weasley never left her alone, and were never more than an arms-length away until recently.

" 'Which was why she had to keep returning to the Hospital Wing — Madam Pomfrey wanted to make sure the coordination problem was responding to treatment properly. The rumours say it was a Weasley twins' prank gone wrong. Very believable. And if you kept talking about it all the time, you would be reinforcing the obliviate until she wouldn't be able to discern the truth from your lie, anymore. Especially if you arranged to plant the idea that her discovering you were the Heir of Slytherin was a nightmare.

" 'A perfect solution! She blames the twins, as does everyone else, and the twins become the culprits no matter how much they protest. No one suspects an obliviate, so no one calls in a legilimens. You secret is safe, and she's grateful, again, to you for being such an outstanding best mate in helping her out all this term.'"

They both continued to hug for a while longer.

This witch must have made quite an impression on Harry for him to remember so much of what she had said, so clearly. She wished he could remember the professors' lessons as accurately.

Hermione could only shake her head in shock at how believable that entire scenario was. It fit the facts as known to the students at large, but came to a wildly different conclusion than the truth. And yet, it told her that no one did suspect the truth of what had happened. Her secret was safe. Which she proceeded to tell Harry, that this misdirection by this unknown Slytherin was actually a good thing for them. If she said everyone believed it was the twins, then it was probably true.

Finally, Hermione said, "Well, then, what happened next?"

She was greeted by silence.

She heaved a big sigh. "Okay, Harry, let's go through this slowly, re-enact it as closely as you can remember. Remember, it's not your fault, and I won't leave you. We can stop whenever you want, if you really want to, and you're in control. So, lie down, first."

Reluctantly, with a little gentle pressure on his shoulders from her hands, he slowly sat down, and then laid flat. He stared at the ceiling.

She frowned. "Maybe a blindfold would help," she said, again softly. At his non-response, she slowly pulled up her wand and cast the obscuro spell that she had learned last year and everyone else would in another month.

"Then what, Harry," she said and gently stroked his arm.

Harry started to say something a couple of times, but stopped each time. Then he cleared his throat, "She, uh, she, slapped me." He blushed.

There had to be more to it than that to get this kind of reaction, Hermione knew. "And?" she said, prompting him. "How hard did she hit you?"

He blushed an even brighter red.

"It wasn't, uh, how hard . . . ." He fidgeted for a few moments.

"Yes?" she said slowly, drawing it out.

He sighed. "She didn't really slap me," he confessed slowly. "At least not with her hands. It was more like dragged something across my face."

Hermione had to think about that. She was at a total loss, at first. Then she thought of several of her mother's books and some of the games the characters had played with each other. The only things that dragged were . . . . Oh. OOHH!

She sighed, and removed her robes. She didn't really need to take off more. After being a cat for nearly a month, hidden under illusions, she had gotten out of the habit of wearing anything under her robes — knickers were in the way of her tail and her blouses were not quite long enough to cover what needed hiding on a cat's body. The habit had simply continued after the first three weeks.

She studied the blindfolded boy for a moment. He hadn't said the bint had straddled him, he would have felt her arms and legs on either side of him, so that meant . . . .

She moved around so that she was on her hands and knees, upside-down to him, her chest directly over his face. She started rubbing her chest back and forth over his mouth and face. It wasn't as if he had never had his face buried there before.

From his gasp, she figured she had guessed correctly. "Like that?"

"Uh huh," came the muffled response.

"Then what?" she said unsteadily, still swaying back and forth.

She stifled a groan as he latched on and started using his tongue. She considered forgetting about sorting out what had happened and just enjoying some relaxing time with Harry, but . . . she just had to know. So, she slowly straightened and looked down at Harry, upside-down. "And then?" she said quirking an eyebrow.

He looked away from her for a moment, even though his eyes were covered, then sighed defeatedly. "I'm sorry, Mia. I tried, I really did, but I couldn't stop reacting." He shook his hips, making his naughty bit wobble.

She tsked, and said, "I already told you that that's a normal reaction to that kind of situation for boys. You needn't apologize."

He was silent for a few moments, then sighed softly. Following his directions, she started fellating him while he reciprocated. She had learned, by now, to take a deep breath before he climaxed in her throat when she did this.

Then they moved on to several other positions. The Slytherin seemed to like to be the one in control, as Harry told her how she would tease him to the brink of a climax, then stop until the compulsion to finish had dropped. She did this no matter what the position, achieving multiple climaxes of her own while preventing him the same relief.

" 'I'd never be able to do this with my fiancé,' Harry told Hermione what the Slytherin witch had said. 'He is the heir to the House and he won't be denied,' she had said disparagingly. But," he had told the bushy-haired witch, "once she delivers the heir and a spare, as their families demand, then she plans on taking a lover to satisfy her desires." Harry snorted, conveying his disdain.

Hermione had sighed, sadly. "She'll never know real love, someone who wants her for herself, not what she can do for them, or to be able to brag about whom they were with."

She suspected that at least one of the positions she and Harry repeatedly did was because Harry liked it and not because that bint had done it. However, she wasn't about to complain! She enjoyed herself at least as much as he did, having multiple climaxes to his each one of his. And it was cathartic as it allowed him to re-enct what had happened, but this time he was in control. She wasn't forcing him to react to her.

Later, in the afterglow, she reflected that she was again going to be walking funny and enjoying remembering why she was doing that. After a time, she asked, "Was that all? She just wanted to reprise her first experience?"

There was a long pause. She felt her eyebrows going up the longer it continued.

Clearly there was more — and the longer the silence continued, the more she became alarmed.

"Harry? What happened next? Did she bring in a friend or something?"

That got a snort in reply, followed by a soft, "No," and a shudder.

"Then what?" she coaxed again, and softly said, "Come on, bottling it up won't do you any good. And I'm your best mate. You can trust me with anything!"

He was silent, and she could see his lips twisting side to side as he worked through what he wanted to say. She wondered if he had forgotten the blindfold and thought the room was dark and she couldn't see his expressions.

Finally, he took a shuddering deep breath and let it out slowly. "She had polyjuice," he said, barely above a whisper.

"Polyjuice?" Hermione couldn't see the connection.

"Yes."

"And?"

"She pulled out one of my hairs. Then she said, 'I've always wanted to do this, you know? Curiosity about what it's like, right? But I've never had the opportunity, did I? There was no one I could trust enough — until you. You, I can trust. Not because you trust me, you don't. And you shouldn't. But I can trust you to keep quiet about everything we've done because you have as much to lose as I do, if not even more.' She giggled delightedly at that point.

" 'I would have visited you before now, but it took me a while to save up the galleons and get this. And the people I had to deal with are rather unsavoury, aren't they? If they had discovered my identity, they would have been delighted to black-mail me forever, wouldn't they?

" 'So, I couldn't let anyone get even the tiniest suspicion I might be after this. It would make my fiancé jealous. He would think I wanted another instead of him — which I do, but that's neither here nor there.

" 'My fiancé would never agree to do what I'm doing today. He's far too caught up in pride in his masculinity. The very thought of being a girl would disgust him. Or terrify him, but he'd never admit that.

" 'But you? You're stuck here, what with the sticking charms and blindfold.' She giggled a bit after saying that. "Well, down the hatch!'"

He shuddered. "That's when I discovered she had just used polyjuice with one of my hairs. I felt her change. She was sitting on me, and I felt something grow between her legs, several things actually. And her voice became deeper. After a few moments, she remarked on how weird it felt to be a boy. Then she said, 'Now it's your turn, Mr. Potter.' She tapped my chin with her wand to make me open my mouth, then made me drink a vial of polyjuice.

"After I finished changing, she took off the blindfold. 'I want to see your expressions. My fiancé always says witches make the funniest expression.' She laughed at my expression as I stared at myself sitting on me. Then she grabbed my . . . breasts and squeezed until it hurt. 'Don't worry, Mr. Potter, these aren't mine. I took a hair from one of the most voluptuous girls in Seventh Year. You know her, I'm sure, practically all the wizards drool when she walks by. I hate her.' Then she giggled, again. 'Because I'm doing this, I might as well see what excites all the wizards so much. And I know just what a girl likes . . . and doesn't.' she gave a rather cruel sounding laugh and dug her fingernails into my . . . chest. Then she said, 'Plus, even if no one else knows, I'll know exactly what it feels like to be her boyfriend! And what it takes to make her scream.'

"She really didn't like that girl," he said quietly.

Hermione didn't know what to think. That . . . that monster had changed into a boy, then changed Harry into a girl. She didn't need to ask what happened next. It was pure and simple rape. One that went on for some time, as the one responsible never seemed to tire.

She took off the blindfold and held him tight.

It was a bit later, how long she didn't know, when she finally asked, calmly and seriously, "Do you want to talk about it?"

He gave a half-laugh, half-sob. "Not unless you've got polyjuice," he said dryly. Perhaps he was trying to be funny, to make light of what had happened, by pretending they should "re-enact it." There was no way he was sincere.

He must have felt her stiffen up.

Disbelievingly, he pushed her back to look into her face.

She couldn't help it that she was blushing.

"You do?" He blinked at her a few times. "Right. The leftovers?"

She gave a small nod.

Harry stared at her, then sighed and slumped. "After she healed the scratches and before she left for lunch as me, she said she found the experience rather fun and cathartic."

"I knew it," Hermione burst out.

He looked at her inquisitively.

Hermione blushed. "She didn't do a very good job of imitating you. She kept looking at things and reacting differently. She picked the wrong foods to eat, and her expressions changed for no apparent reasons," she explained. "She'd start to laugh, the stop. She'd smile, but it was all wrong. You don't smile like that.

"I knew something was wrong, but I couldn't figure out what." She fixed him with a glare. "Next time I'm not sure it's you, I'll ask a random question only you can answer, so be prepared!"

He nodded quickly.

She huffed angrily and crossed her arms. "But why didn't she change back during lunch?" she asked herself, and tapped her finger on her chin.

Harry shrugged. "She must have used a bigger vial than we did, and snuck a sip when you weren't looking?" he offered.

"Or used a switching spell," she said, musing as she nodded agreement. Then she said, "What happened when she got back?"

Harry's expression turned dark. "My dose of polyjuice had worn off during lunch. She decided to see what it was like when two boys did it. Then, when her second dose wore off, she did the regular way until the next class was due to start."

He shook his head, as if the shake the thoughts he had out of it. "She kept saying how she was shagging the Heir of Slytherin, that no one else knew it. Even time I climaxed, she laughed and said how good it felt to take the snake's venom.

"And I couldn't stop," he said, quietly, disgusted with himself.

Hermione hugged him tightly. "It's not your fault, Harry. It's not your fault! She was just using your body to take out her frustrations with her fiancé and that other witch."

What a horrible experience! But what could she do to help? After several minutes, she gently suggested, "Harry? Why don't you show me what she did? Like the other times? Except, pretend you're her and I'm you? That way we won't need polyjuice."

He didn't respond, other than to continue hugging her.

"Or, you know, I could get out my leftover polyjuice, if you'd rather."

He stiffened in her arms.

She shrugged. "The batch I made was enough for nine doses. We used three and I traded three to the twins for some favours."

He leaned back and stared at her, he eyes searching back and forth across her face. "Why would you do that?"

She smirked. "First, the reason Ron is such a pig at meals is because his brothers prank his food if he doesn't gulp his food immediately. That's why he tends to eat with his hands, grabbing a banger or chicken leg from the platter and just eating it instead of filling his plate with food. They promised to stop doing that both here and at home, and tell him they wouldn't do it anymore, ever. Instead, they'd prank him if he didn't begin to show proper manners.

"Second? Let's just say that Draco's going to have an interesting year. Watch what happens the next time you hear him say mud-blood." She grinned happily. "It's called negative reinforcement." Then she couldn't help but giggle.

Instead of laughing at her explanation, as she had hoped, he waved that off completely with a right-hand gesture.

"No. I mean use it here."

She immediately felt herself blush. "Well, if you did it with me, maybe the experience wouldn't seem so bad? Like they say about falling off a bike, you should immediately get back on it, to conquer your fear? And, if it would help you cope with what happened, why would I not use it?" She paused a moment. "Besides, I've always kind of wondered what it was like to be a boy."

It was her turn to examine his face carefully.

"Is it in your trunk?" he said cautiously.

"It would take but a minute to get it," she said, and looked at her watch. "We have more than enough time, an hour and a half if you don't mind being late to dinner."

Harry went first.

It was the most bizarre singular experience she had ever had. Making love to herself was beyond strange, and it made her terribly embarrassed to see the expressions she made, as well as the sounds. She had never been attracted to girls, but she could understand why some girls were. And now she could experience it without having to worry about being rejected.

Plus, she got to see herself in ways that normally were physically impossible without a camera or mirror. Not to mention, really close up. Features she had thought stood out, didn't. Things she hadn't noticed were suddenly more prominent. Basically, it changed her whole outlook on how others saw her. She had never realized just how much of a mess her hair could get to be.

While enjoyable, she wasn't narcissistic enough to consider it as anything more than a once-in-lifetime occurrence.

Then she took her dose.

She learned many more valuable lessons that afternoon.

She had never dreamed how good fellatio could be when you were the recipient. Comparing it to what Harry had done to her in the past was disingenuous. The sensations were totally different from what she had expected, especially the climax. The books had mentioned there were differences in perception, but the reality left her gasping. The entire experience of being the one to directly fill Harry-as-Hermione with Hermione-as-Harry's warm spend made her realize just why boys wanted girls to do that. She made a mental note to make use of that particular activity more often with Harry and Ron. She could easily do one with her mouth while the other was occupied with, and occupying, her fanny. It would probably be more fun that way, too.

Making love the normal way was entirely different, too, but exactly the same. The climax at the end was worth all the effort, especially to hear herself climaxing below herself as well. However, the rush at the end, as she climaxed was just as powerful as any she had had as herself. Yet, the drive to finish was quite the opposite from what she was used to as a girl, where she wanted it to last as long as possible. Boys, as the books had all said, could not have multiple climaxes in a row — one was all they had until the next time, which was always several minutes later.

Boys being able to climax so quickly made her more than a bit envious. As the books had said, boys also reacted more to visual stimuli, hence their focus on girls chests when they were approaching and backsides when they were going away.

She decided that being a girl, and getting all those multiples without a discernable gap, was the preferable choice for her.

Using her breasts as a substitute was okay, but not nearly as fun the other two. Although, doing it while she, that is, Harry-as-Hermione, the one currently with the breasts, was treating it as a lollipop was quite enjoyable. She especially found it amusing as Hermione-as-Harry poured white stuff all over Harry-as-Hermione's face, neck, and chest when Hermione-as-Harry climaxed.

Anal was . . . odd. She didn't really see the appeal. It felt good, no doubt of that. Maybe it was something that became more enjoyable the more you did it? Even with the simply clean-up that magic provided, she couldn't see herself really wanting to repeat the experience in the future. Unless, perhaps to take care of both her boys at the same time while not tiring out her jaw. With the proper lubrication, they could keep it up for a long time. As a boy, she thought, she preferred putting it in a girl in the proper location.

Naturally, because Harry went first, his polyjuice ran out first.

That was when she discovered that being on the receiving end of anal, as a boy, was a good deal more enjoyable than it was as a girl! Feeling Harry, as a boy, reach climax, made her, as a boy, follow suit. And double fellatio was simply indescribable.

They paused when her polyjuice wore off, but pausing was all they did.

She had to say, that his short experience as a girl had made Harry a great deal more sensitive to what girls liked and wanted. As well as the things she didn't like.

The incidents with the Slytherin no longer seemed to be an issue with Harry.

After cleaning up thoroughly, they headed to the Great Hall for a late dinner, Harry said, "You still have one dose left, don't you?"

"Yes." She looked at him curiously.

He nodded. "We need to have Ron take it, so he can learn just what it feels like to be a witch. That way, he'll never disappoint any witch he shags."

After a moment of shocked silence, Hermione smirked. "Too bad we don't have two doses, then he could feel exactly what it would be like to be a witch he was shagging." She sighed. "I don't think we can get away with stealing what we need from Professor Snape, though," she said sadly. "That was a one-shot. He wouldn't fall for the same trick twice."

They walked in silence for a while.

"I wonder if I can buy what we need? That's what that Slytherin did." Harry mused. "Or even just buy the polyjuice?"

She stared at him and frowned.

He shrugged. "If they teach it at the N.E.W.T. level, it can't exactly be a controlled substance, now can it?"

She nodded slowly. "You can't use Hedwig. You'll have to use a Hogwarts owl, otherwise word would get out that Harry Potter is buying polyjuice, or polyjuice components."

He agreed with her. "But I don't know if I have the galleons, here, to buy it."

"You should be able to send Hedwig to Gringotts and make a withdrawal that way," she suggested.

He nodded. "That would work, if they do that."

She shrugged. "Send Hedwig with a letter asking what their services are." She paused and thought. "Or even just ask them to procure it for you, as a customer. They would keep your secret.

"Or, if you want real privacy, you could ask the twins to do it for you. You'd have to swear them to silence, first."

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The Goblins, it turned out, were quite happy to comply with Harry's request, for a small fee, and the two Gryffindors had their additional doses well before Ron's birthday, two weeks later.

It took more than a little persuasion to get Ron to agree. Hermione making the proposal, again, while they were celebrating Ron's birthday a bit early, the Sunday night before, had brought everything into focus for him. Ron would agree to almost anything when he was in the middle of enjoying himself so thoroughly with his best mates' help. Tomorrow being his birthday meant Harry was more than happy to let Ron decide what to do and when, while he watched. Hermione sliding up and down the red-haired lad's lap while slapping her breasts back and forth across his face might have made the decision a bit easier for him, as well. It was almost as easy as using a confundus, and certainly more enjoyable for both parties.

Harry and Hermione had planned this, of course. Harry's bed was silenced, with a notice-me-not, and the other three boys in the room had all been given stupifies to ensure they did stay asleep, no matter if the silencing spells wore off early. However, this was just the second time they had done this since term had started. The only possible problem was Hermione sneaking into her own bed in the morning, but Harry's invisibility cloak took care of that detail quite nicely. Which meant they never had to worry about nosy Prefects interrupting them at night, or discovering someone had already appropriated their desired broom-closet!

Ron agreed only as long as it was Hermione pretending to be him — somehow Harry being a bloke while Ron was the witch made him extremely uncomfortable. Not that that discomfort, or reluctance, lasted long in the passion of the moment, not too much later.

After Hermione had brought him to his second climax, while Harry toyed with Ron-as-Hermione's breasts, Ron didn't notice Harry take Hermione's place while she moved off to recover. Ron usually did have to recover after each climax when they 'practiced' for when he finally decided he wanted a serious girlfriend. Harry was more than happy to make sure Hermione was ready for Ron when he decided he was ready for more.

Hermione knew that the post-coital bliss would blur and deaden his awareness of his surroundings — it always did for her! She knew that by the time Ron-as-Hermione realized it wasn't Hermione-as-Ron sliding into him, the climax that followed soon after would smother any objections he night have. She was right.

Harry's stamina, and the witches' ability to have consecutive climaxes, completely removed any objections the boy had to the experience.

By the time the potion wore off, it was Monday, his birthday. Ron had experienced every position and combination possible for a witch with two lovers — without any special equipment such as like swings or trapezes, that is. Ron now knew exactly what it felt like to be a witch on the receiving end of anything he might want to suggest that they do. Plus, he knew how to make sure the witch was too contented to want to complain about anything he did do when he finished doing it!

The next time he heard a witch mention riding a broomstick or polishing a wand, he would blush as red as his hair, no matter how innocent the conversation might be!

The redhead wasn't the perfect lover — Hermione did not intend to tell him that Harry was as close to perfect as a bloke could get with his stamina. However, Ron was well on his way to reaching a status that would have the witches vying for the position of his girlfriend once word of his prowess got out.

She had to smirk. Based on some of what she had heard the older witches talking about, she knew Ron was already among the rare few who even came close to understanding what a witch wanted in the bed. Once they'd had the opportunity to experience his skill, they wouldn't want to give it up! She knew several girls, if given the choice, would rather share him with another witch, or witches, rather than lose him entirely and never get to experience that bliss again.

Unless they were into punishment games. Some of her mother's books had had scenes with those. She didn't understand it, herself, but that didn't mean she didn't understand that some did want that sort of play.

Ron would have to educate himself about those kinds of things, she decided. Her Harry might like being dominated, sometimes, but he wasn't into actual pain. Neither giving nor receiving it.

The final bonus, from her point of view, was that Ron would distract them from trying to take away her Harry.

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If a certain young laddie were a Valentine's buffet

. . . Well I'd pull up a chair and I'd eat him all day.

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