Testing Defenses

Disclaimer:Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.

Chapter 7: An Unexpected Visit

Harry woke up relatively late the next morning…Susan had insisted that she show Harry all of her toys, and how they worked, so they hadn't gotten much sleep.  He looked at the clock, then the sunlit windows, and panicked.

“Susan,” he whispered. “We slept in…it's late.”

His bedmate smiled as she stretched out her arms and rolled over onto Harry's chest.

“Need to be someplace, playmate?”

“No, but…how were planning on sneaking out of here?”

“Are you kicking me out of your bed, Harry?”

“Erm, no…it's just that, I don't want you getting caught, or getting in trouble.”

Susan smiled as she reached up and lightly pinched his nipple. “So thoughtful….don't worry, though, I've got a safe ride home.”

“You do?”

The Hufflepuff witch nodded, then called out, “Tillie?”

A pillow sheet-wearing house-elf popped up next to the bed.

“Yes, Mistress Susan?” the house-elf asked. She then turned towards Harry and let out an “Eep!”

“Tillie, this is Harry Potter.”

“Good morning, Tillie,”

“Good morning, Dobby's Mr. Harry Potter Sir.”

“Dobby?” asked Harry.  “Do you know Dobby the house-elf, Tillie?”

The house-elf nodded, and then asked, “Would Mistress Susan and Dobby's Mr. Harry Potter Sir wish some breakfast in bed?”

Susan smiled. “That would be brilliant, Tillie.”

The house-elf curtseyed, then popped away.

Harry frowned. “How did she….”

“Hang on, Harry,” said Susan, as she rolled off the bed. “I need to go.”

Harry was about to ask where she planned on going buck naked, when she padded off to the Port-a-loo and he understood.  While he waited for his turn, Harry recalled Dobby's visits to Privet Drive during his second year. The house-elf had managed to get through the wards when he was still owned by Malfoy house elf, and without any kind of summons.

“Every time I look,” he muttered half to himself, “the defenses look worse and worse.”

Having overheard him mutter to himself on the way back to bed, Susan said,  “Sorry, but Hermione asked me to do a trial run for when she….oops!”

Harry looked up sharply. “For when Hermione does what, Susan?”

The Hufflepuff shook her head. “Sorry, but that's her story to tell.”

Harry nodded, then made his own way to the Port-a-loo.  By the time he finished, Tillie popped back with to large silver trays filled with an assortment of breakfast dishes.  Susan sat up in bed, without care that this exposed her bare upper torso, and patted the mattress next to her.

“Hop in, Harry, and Tillie can levitate your tray onto your lap.”

Harry looked down at his crotch. “Don't know if it will be able to balance.”

Susan giggled.  “Tillie,” she asked, “would you just set the trays on the desk over there? I need to help Harry flatten out his lap.”

“Yes, Mistress Susan,” the house-elf replied.

As Harry sat down next to Susan he asked, “So, Tillie is your ride home?”

When Susan nodded, he turned towards her house-elf and asked how she was able to pop inside his bedroom. Tillie explained that Susan had asked her to bring her to Harry's bedroom the night previous, but there had been some problems making the jump.”

“Problems?” asked Harry.

Susan jumped in. “Tillie usually needs either a family member to use as a target, or a good idea of where she is going.  There also were some magical barriers in place.”

“So how were you able to finally make the trip?” asked Harry.

“Dobby helped us,” Susan said.

“Dobby?” asked Harry with surprise. He paused for a few moments, then called out the house-elf's name, with a tone of voice that conveyed summoning more than surprise.

There was no response.

“Dobby hears his great Harry Potter, Sir,” Tillie said meekly. “But he can't come even if he's called.”

“Really?” asked Harry. “That's strange…he's been here before.”

Tillie nodded. “Dobby told us that…said that the Bad Headmaster knows too.”

“Bad Headmaster?” wondered Harry. He then asked, “So did this Bad Headmaster do something to Dobby?”

Susan jumped in. “Dumbledore made Dobby promise that he wouldn't visit you on Privet Drive this summer. If he does, then the Headmaster will give him clothes and keep Dobby from working at Hogwarts during the school year.”

Harry's eyes narrowed. “Why that manipulative, old bastard!”

Susan nodded. “We thought so too.”

“We?”

With a guilty smile, Susan replied, “The dream catchers were all at Hermione's house yesterday evening, for what she called a…sleeping party?”

“Slumber party,” Harry corrected.

“Ah yes,” said Susan. “Anyway, once I got the go-ahead to visit, I summoned Tillie, but when she had troubles, Hermione told Tillie to find Dobby and ask for his help.”

“Tillie found Dobby and brought him back to Dobby's Harry Potter Sir's 'Mione's house,” added the house-elf.

Harry worked through all of the possessives in that statement, then asked, “So who was calling Hermione 'Harry Potter Sir's 'Mione?”

“Why Dobby, of course,” the house-elf replied.

“We did too, once we heard it,” said Susan with a grin, adding, “we thought it was so cute.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “But what did Hermione think?”

Susan giggled. “She didn't mind at all…then she started calling us the same.”

“No.”

“Yes”

Harry shook his head, then turned his attention back to the house elf.

“So, Dobby showed you how to get by the wards and bring Harry Potter Sir's Susie here?”

Tillie smiled brightly. “Dobby showed Daisy, too,” she noted.

“Daisy? Who is Daisy?”

Susan and her house-elf shared worried looks.

“Again, it's Hermione's story,” said Susan, once Harry turned towards her. “Ask her when you talk to her….you do know her telephone number, right?”

Harry fidgeted. “Not actually, but I suppose I could ring directory assistance.”

“Good idea,” Susan said with a smile. “I think that her fingers are getting callused waiting for you to invite her back.”

Harry frowned. “Why would she think that she needed an invitation to visit me?”

Susan sighed. “Because she doesn't want to just show up starkers and jump your bones.”

“Why not,” Harry quipped. “You and everybody else have.”

Susan slugged his arm. “Harry Potter, you'd do well to remember that I was wearing some clothing when I arrived last night.”

Harry grinned.  “No worries, Susan…you made a rather memorable entrance.”

“Well, good, then,” she replied.  Susan looked down at the tented sheet covering Harry's lap, licked her lips, and said, “I'm hungry, Harry, can I eat?”

Harry snorted. “Does Tillie often watch you eat, Susan?”

Susan looked up at Harry's face, then over to her house-elf. “Thank you for bringing breakfast, Tillie...you may go.”

The house-elf smiled and popped away.

oo00OO00oo

Twenty minutes later, Harry was finally able to balance his breakfast tray onto his lap. It took Susan just a minute later, due to the post-orgasmic twitching in her legs and thighs.

While Harry was spreading some jam on his toast, he asked, “So, you were at Hermione's yesterday?”

Susan nodded, choosing not to talk with eggs in her mouth.

“Did she tell you where I lived, or did you find another way to find me?”

Susan swallowed her food, and then said, “Yesterday morning, I asked Auntie Amelia where you lived.”

“Don't suppose the Death Eaters have friends or relatives that are that useful,” Harry mused.

“Actually, they do,” Susan replied.

“How's that?” wondered Harry. “Does Voldemort have moles in Hopkirk's office?”

“Don't know about that, but I do know he has sympathizers in the Wizengamot.”

Harry frowned. “So does every Wizengamot member have access to MLE files?”

“No, but I think that every one of them has a pair of ears, and could hear what Aunt Amelia heard during your trial last year.”

Harry stared at Susan for a few moments as he mentally revisited his visit to Courtroom Number Ten. Suddenly turning pale, he swore emphatically.

“Language, Harry,” said Susan.

“Yes, dear,” Harry replied reflexively. He would have found more humor in the banter if he wasn't so focused on the facts.

Harry didn't have any idea whether the court documents associated with his disciplinary hearing were public, but he clearly remembered at least two different instances when the street address of his summer residence was read out loud before the entire Wizengamot.

And Dumbledore had been standing next to him for at least one of those times!

“Sweet Merlin!” he uttered. “Every single member of the Wizengamot heard where I lived…I can remember quite clearly Percy Weasley's pompous tone of voice as he read out the trumped up charges.”

Susan nodded sympathetically.

“So now, I'm forced to wonder not if I can be attacked here, but why that attack hasn't already occurred!” Harry exclaimed. “Umbitch was there, and Fudge…surely he told Malfoy, and the Nott patriarch, and how many others?”

“How many voted to convict you?” asked Susan.

“Too many,” he replied sadly. After a few moments of quiet he once again muttered out a curse.

“What, Harry?”

The young wizard let out a deep sigh as he shook his head. “Dumbledore will use this bit of information against us,” he concluded. “The fact that Death Eaters either heard outright where I lived or were told second hand by their lackeys, but still didn't come after me ….it will be used as proof that the wards work.”

“So,” Susan asked, “that might mean that you'd spend more time here over the summer?”

“Yes.”

Susan's bare breasts slapped against Harry's arm as she reached for Harry's knife and wiped a bit of jam onto her right nipple.

“And that would be a bad thing?” she casually asked.

Harry choked on his toast, but cleared his throat with a laugh.

“Thanks Susan, I needed that.”

“Any time, Harry…and I mean that.”

Harry chuckled.  “Sorry, Susan, it's just that….how many years has Dumbledore intercepted my mail with the excuse that my location had to be kept secret…how many years? Even if the wards did keep the Death Eaters at bay there's no rational explanation why Dumbledore could expect this house's location to be kept secret!”

Susan nodded. “Do you think it was intentional?”

“What…keeping me in the dark, keeping me from my friends…making me dependent on Dumbledore, and that much more appreciative each year when he swoops down and rescues me from Hell? You bet your cute arse I think it was intentional!”

The Hufflepuff smiled. “Well there are ways around that now, isn't there?  You could always ask Tillie to deliver both your mail and my cute arse directly into your bedroom.”

Harry smiled. “That's a great idea…anything else that you think I should do?”

Susan waggled her eyebrows.

“Besides that?”

Susan sighed. “Okay, then….I think that you should invite Auntie over for a visit.”

Harry paused. “I hope you mean a daytime visit.”

Susan giggled. “Of course I do, Harry….Auntie will have to go to the back of the line if she wants to volunteer for that.”

Harry shook his head. “I think that the game of testing defenses is over.”

“Why?”

“Because nothing is going to convince Dumbledore that I'm not safe here….I bet Hermione could carry the Dark Lord piggyback across the wards and the old man would still have an excuse.”

Susan sighed. “You do realize that you're going to disappoint a lot of witches who were still waiting for their turn.”

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “Such is the fate of a teen-aged sex god.”

Susan snorted. “Confident much?”

Harry paused, and then shrugged his shoulders. “Much more so than last week, that's for sure.” He then grinned as he realized something.

“So tell me, Susan…Hermione's Plan was designed to test the wards, and maybe to help catch a few bad dreams…was there any talk about boosting my self-confidence as a new witch visited each night?”

Susan smiled as she reached for Harry's hand.

“Just don't get too big for your britches, Potter.”

Harry snorted as he bent over and licked the jam off of Susan's nipple. “Right. How am I supposed to think about you, now, without getting big.”

Susan laughed. “Harry, I was talking about your other swollen head.”

oo00OO00oo

Tillie once again provided transportation after Susan had showered, dressed, and obtained the standard photo documentation of her visit. She offered to leave the riding crop behind for a future visit, but Harry politely declined.

The Boy-Who-Lived decided to go downstairs and fix his Aunt some lunch…the menial labor gave him the chance to plan out his next steps.  Hermione would no doubt be a big help figuring what to do about Dumbledore, but if he called and invited her over, would she think that was the only reason?  

As he plated the food Harry decided that it wasn't the only reason why he wanted her to visit.  Susan had hinted that Hermione wanted to go all the way, and he felt better prepared for that last step given the past few nights.  But what to say?

Harry still hadn't figured that out by the time he brought Petunia's food upstairs and slipped it through the cat flap.  But when hadn't he flown by the seat of his pants in difficult situations?  He grabbed the cordless the phone, walked into his room and summoned all of his Gryffindor courage as he dialed the number.

An older woman's voice came over the line.

“Granger residence.”

“Erm, hullo, this is Harry Potter…is Hermione there?”

There was a pause.

“Oh, hello, Mr. Potter, this is Emily, Hermione's mother. And yes, she is here.”

Silence.

“Erm, well…may I talk with her please?”

“I'm glad that you asked…one moment, and I'll see if she's available.”

There was a jostling sound, then silence, as if a hand had been placed over the receiver. But if it was intended to keep Harry from hearing something, it didn't work, as a muffled voice called out, “Hermione…your friend finally pulled his head out of his arse and called you!”

Harry thought he might have heard a squeal in response, but wasn't certain. It made him wonder just how hard he'd have to work to make things right with Hermione.

A few moments later he heard a muffled admonishment to “Don't be too hard on him!” And then…

“Hullo, this is Hermione.”

“Hi, Hermione, this is Harry.”

“Harry Who?”

Harry snorted. “Harry Potter, of course.”

“Oh, no, this must be a crank call…the only Harry Potter that I know apparently broke his fingers and can't call or write.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, I'm sorry, Hermione. I know I should have called you sooner.”

“And….”

“And I should have written back.”

“And…..”

“And, well, things have been kind of crazy around here since you visited.”

“Yes….I've heard that. Anything you need to share with me, Harry?”

Harry paused, then said, “Yeah, it's about testing defenses….I don't think that it's ever going to work.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, so you don't need to keep sending witches to try.”

“Oh…so you don't want any more visits?”

“Erm, no…I didn't say that…they've been incredible, but….”

“But what, Harry?”

“Well, if you don't mind, I'd like to have a say on who drops by.”

“What, you don't like…”

“No, no, no….everyone's been…erm, they've all been wonderful.  It's just that….I want to be the one offering invites, okay?”

“Fine,” said Hermione.  “I'll stop trying to…”

“No, no…I need your help, Hermione…I want….”

“What do you want, Harry Potter?”

“Well…I want to be your friend with benefits.”

There were a pause on the line.  

“Really?”

Harry sighed. “Hermione, would you like to visit me tonight?”

“Are you sure you want me…want me to bring that book over, Harry?”

Harry scrunched his eyes in confusion, then smiled in realization.

“Is your mum listening in, Hermione?”

“Probably.”

“Would you rather you continue our conversation in private?”

“Sounds good.”

“Think you can get away from your Order guard?”

“I might be able to arrange that, when were you thinking?”

“Right now would be perfect.”

“Hmmm, don't know that I can rearrange my study schedule, give me a call tomorrow morning if it doesn't work out.”

“Tomorrow morning?”

Hermione giggled. “What's the matter, Harry, don't fancy the thought of a cold…lunch?

Harry smiled.

“I don't mind cold lunches, but I hate cold beds, and I do hope that you'll be able to visit tonight.”

“Good.”

“Should I have anything ready…need anything if you visit?”

There was a pause.

“So Harry…I heard that you got your quidditch jersey back.”

“That I did.”

“Suppose that you've been wearing it ever since, you were so happy…even got it nice and sweaty during your work-outs, huh?”

“Would you like to wear my smelly game-worn jersey to bed?”

“I'd…I'd like that very much I think.”

“Okay, but only if you promise that it's the only thing that you wear.”

“I…think I can do that.”

“Great.  I'll be thinking about you all day…can't wait for your visit.”

“Me either.”

“Hermione?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“I've missed you.”

“Missed you too, Harry…bye.”

oo00OO00oo

Harry wore his Quidditch jersey during five grueling hours of dueling practice that afternoon. Over that period of time the jersey was scorched, frozen, ripped, bloodied and mended too many times to keep track. But by the end of the day there was no question that it had been properly seasoned to Hermione's specifications.

oo00OO00oo

Mad-Eye Moody was in the kitchen, sharing a Harry-cooked meal and teasing him mercilessly when he stopped cold and his magical eye twirled up towards the ceiling. A grin broke out on his battle-scarred face. He reached into a cloak pocket, pulled out a full box of condoms and threw them onto the table.

“You've got company waiting for you upstairs.”

Harry's eyes went wide. “And it's the kind of company that requires that kind of wand protection?”

The retired Auror snorted. “That's up to you, Potter…entirely up to you.” And with a roaring laugh he stood and hobbled through the kitchen door.

Harry paused, then scooped the rubbers off of the kitchen table, rationalizing that his Aunt didn't need to see that sort of thing (if she ever left her room again). And with a bright spring to his step he bounded up the stairs.

He didn't find anyone waiting for him inside what was now his bedroom suite. But he did hear the water gurgling in his hot tub, and saw wisps of steam escaping from the small gap between the Port-a-loo's tent flaps. The blood flowed rather vigorously towards his crotch at the thought of Naked!Hermione in his hot tub. He quickly stripped down to his boxers, approached the Port-a-loo, and called out, “Hermione?”

When there wasn't a reply he popped his head inside to see if he had mistakenly left the tub running. What he found was a bit…well…a bit off. There was a witch in the hot tub with her back to the door…but she was sitting a bit too tall, and her hair was gathered underneath a shower cap.

“Hermione?” he asked.

The nervous giggle that came back through the steamy haze was very unsettling. While he had never heard that particular laugh before, he knew one thing for certain…it hadn't come from a young girl's lips.

“Erm…hello?” he called out, as he walked towards the tub. He froze when the person dove away from him, exposing a skinny torso and rather bony bum. The woman (clearly, a nude woman) then spun around to face Harry from the opposite side.

“Good evening, Mr. Potter.”

The evening was suddenly not good for the young wizard.

“Professor McGonagall?” he squeaked. “What are you doing here?”

“Testing defenses.”

“Testing….defenses….Dumbledore's?”

The elderly witch chuckled as she lifted her arms out of the water and draped them along the wooden rim of the tub.

“Nice tent, Mr. Potter.”

Not knowing quite how to respond considering the circumstances, it was all he could do to reply, “Erm…thanks, Luna lent it to me.”

“That's not the tent I was admiring,” the witch quipped, as she nodded towards him.

When Harry followed her gaze down his still bulging shorts he nearly had a heart attack.

“Erm…Professor…thanks, but..erm…no need to test my defenses…”

“Are you refusing my help?” the witch said sharply. “My dream catchers aren't good enough for you?”

Harry's queasiness blossomed…yet another witch was asking him to critique her breasts…except there was no way in hell that he was going offer his opinion on the Assistant Headmistress's.

Harry heard the sound of water splashing, then settling, and he suddenly realized that his bare-arsed Transfiguration professor was offering up a full frontal view. He quickly turned his head away.

“I'm waiting for your thoughts on 'Left' and 'Right', Mr. Potter.”

In a panic, Harry fled the tent and began to hyperventilate.

Despite the seriousness of the situation (at least for him), Harry eventually calmed down and smirked at the thought of his Head of House calling her eighty-year old breasts “Left” and “Right”… just like Luna. And then he realized that she had also called them “Dream Catchers.”

“Where in Merlin's name did she hear those nicknames?” he wondered.

“Come on back, Mr. Potter, no need to be bashful!”

Harry let the comment pass, choosing instead to focus his thoughts on the situation. If the Assistant Headmistress knew about dream catchers and their use, Harry reasoned she must have been in contact with Hermione, or one of the other girls. And then he recalled that she had indeed visited both Hermione and Katie Bell. But what would make her do this?

As Harry skimmed over memories of the past week, he realized that there had been no shortage of witches whose behaviors he seemed out of character. But Minerva McGongall? Naked!Minerva? This was a nightmare.

Stalling for time, he walked over to the flap and yelled inside. “You must be getting cold standing there, Professor…Feel free to use the towels…or better still the dressing gowns hanging on that side wall.”

“Thank you, Mr. Potter, but I'm quite comfortable,” came the reply. “There must be some other reason why my nipples are so hard.”

“That's it!” Harry decided to himself.“This has gone well past strange and frightening and straight to surreal. She can't be serious!”

The thought of just how “serious” the situation was called to mind his godfather's favorite play on words. Harry paused to consider what Sirius would have done in his shoes. He then realized that if Sirius were still alive that Harry would have suspected this to be one of his godfather's better pranks.

The idea that this could be a prank pushed itself towards the front of Harry's thoughts. His eyes narrowed, even as his heart rate calmed…it was not only the most logical explanation, it was also the best possible outcome. Or at least, something to hope for.

It was a desperate thought, but the plan born from that thought wouldn't make things that much worse if he were wrong. He bravely ducked back inside the tent, then gasped at the sight. Harry really hadn't known what to expect, but whatever it was didn't include perky breasts, tight abs, and a heart-shaped trim.

“Like what you see, Mr. Potter?” the witch asked with a saucy grin.

Harry took a step backwards as his mind raced. It was possible that the aging witch was a secret fitness freak…or maybe there were anti-sagging potions…or maybe…

Deciding that it was a case of “in for a knut, in for a galleon,” Harry smiled as an old muggle fairy tale came to mind.

“My, Professor, what big breasts you have!” he said, using words that dripped with false wonder.

The witch's grin faltered for a moment, but only for a moment as she replied, “All the better to dream catch, my dear.”

Harry snorted. “Oh, Professor…what strong thighs you have!”

“Well…all the better to squeeze you, my dear.”

Harry nodded and smiled in reply and stated, “And my, Professor, what a cute bum you have!”

“Erm…all the better to sit on your face, my dear.”

Harry laughed out loud…laughed so hard that he needed to bend over at the waist and hold his sides. From this position, it was easy enough to quietly draw his wand, then quickly stand and catch his target unaware with a spell.

“Accio Hermione!”

Nothing happened, save for the witch's smile turning into a frown.

“Mr. Potter, I'm so disappointed…thinking that I wouldn't want to help you in whatever way possible….”

“Accio Tonks!”

The witch let out a loud “Yelp!” as she was pulled out of the tub and started to fly towards Harry. But she quickly regained her wits, and decided to take advantage of the situation and tackle Harry with open arms and opened legs.

Harry panicked and did the first thing that came to mind. Tonks bounced off of the hastily conjured shield and landed hard on her bum.

“Ouch!” she cried out. But Harry was more interested in a different sound…a quiet giggle that came from the corner of the tent. From the corner of his eye he spotted a lump of airspace that was devoid of mist. And then he spied a trail of wet footprints leading away from the tub towards that lump.

With an evil grin he shot his wand out towards the spot and yelled, “Accio invisibility cloak.”

There was another “Yelp” as a small mass of shimmering fabric sped towards Harry, leaving behind a very naked witch.

“Hello, Hermione, I was hoping that you'd visit tonight,” he said brightly.

Realizing that Harry was staring straight at her, Hermione was quick to cover her bits with her arms and dash for the towel rack. As the young witch wrapped a towel around herself, Harry turned his gaze back towards the other naked witch. Deciding that he didn't want to wait for Tonks to cover her Naked!Minerva form, Harry levitated a dressing gown off of a wall hook, spread it wide open, then dropped it down onto her head like a tarp.

“Hey!” the Auror complained.

“Tonks, what are you doing here?”

“Keeping tabs on Hermione.”

“And part of your tabbing includes imitating naked transfiguration professors?”

“Well, it seemed a shame not to…”

“Yes, yes, brilliant prank, you had me going for a while,” Harry said. “Now why don't you keep tabs on the outside of the tent for a little while? Hermione and I need some alone time.”

Tonks snorted. “Yeah, I bet you do.” She changed back into her preferred form, wrapped the dressing gown around herself, and stood up.

“So what gave me away?” she asked Harry.

“Little Red Riding Hood,” Harry replied. “You played along.”

“So? My father was a muggle-born. He loved telling me that story when I was young.”

Harry nodded. “And Hermione heard it too, I'm sure. But I was also pretty certain that Professor McGonagall grew up in a wizard household.”

Tonks snorted. “So she wouldn't have known the 'my, grandma, what nice titties you have' bit, right?”

Harry nodded as he ushered the Auror out the door with a slap on her bum.

“Hey!”

“Drop it, Tonks, before I tell Remus that you were trying to play 'Big Bad Wolf' with me.”

“You wouldn't dare.”

“Or maybe I should share the pensieve memory with Minerva?”

“Erm…right…I'll be right outside if you need me. Have fun, you two.”

And with Tonks' retreat, Harry and Hermione were alone. He turned towards her and smiled.

“Well, I'm glad that you accepted my invitation.”

“I'm glad that you offered,” Hermione said nervously.

Harry looked towards the tent flaps. “I was thinking of a more…romantic atmosphere…”

Hermione smiled. “Are you looking for a lover, Harry, or a shag-buddy?”

Harry bit the inside of his lip. “I want a best friend more than anything else…and if that best friend and I can seize the day and share some benefits…”

“Best friend?” asked Hermione coyly. “Should I ring up Ron?”

Harry looked at her crossly, then took three steps forward, picked her up and threw her head-first into the hot tub.

“Harry!” Hermione sputtered, once her head bounced up from the water. “My hair!”

Harry smirked as he stepped out of his boxers and into the tub.

“Your hair looks beautiful, Hermione.”

Hermione let out a sniff, then reached out her arms. “Oh, Harry…do you really think so?”

The young wizard nodded as he stepped into her embrace.  As soon as he was enveloped in wet naked hug Harry felt his legs tripped out from underneath him and he took an unexpected dive into the water.

When he stood back up Hermione tackled him, forced him down onto the hot tub's bench, and straddled his legs.

“Playtime is over, Harry,” she announced, as she pulled his lips to her breasts.

As Harry went to work, Hermione said, “You know, I've been waiting for this all day…all week….probably all year, now that I think of it.”

“Really?” asked Harry, pausing in mid-lick. “Then why did you take the time to play that prank?”

“Had to make a deal with Tonks,” she explained. “No prank, no play.”

Harry chuckled. “Not sure I believe that, but I am sure that right now I don't care.”

“Good,” said Hermione, as she reached down to grab Harry's erection.

“Are we done talking, then?” she asked.

Harry nodded. “Are you sure you want to...I've heard that it hurts the girl her first time.”

Hermione grinned. “Already took care of my hymen, Harry.”

“You did?”

With a nod, Hermione replied, “Susan left me a toy to play with this morning.”

“She did?  Which one?”

The friend seeking benefits scooted her hips up and placed the tip of Harry's hard-on against her.

“The nine-inch pink one…she said it was closest to yours in size.”

Before Harry could respond Hermione thrust her hips downward and slowly impaled herself.

Harry groaned in pleasure while Hermione's lips curled into a content smile.

“Sweet Merlin, she was right!”