3Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor

Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor
Chapter Three



Disclamer: Not mine, I own nothing. I’m not making any money

WARNING: Harsh Language, adult themes, sexual situations (i.e. smut), bad spelling and grammar. Also, the smut is going to be a bit more graphic than last time, so if you don’t like reading about sex, don’t read this fic.



Author’s Notes: This story is a broad farce with over the top humor (a good deal of it is crude and sexual) and OOC actions (that’s Out Of Character if you don’t know). Also, this is my first smut-ish fic. If you don’t like sex and sex-based humor, do NOT read this!



Chapter Three Summary: Harry and Hermione spend time studying… and they happen to read a book or two as well







Harry woke up the next day to birds singing a happy song. Of course the effing birds were singing happily; the sun had just risen, and they, being creatures that loved rising early, sang with all their hearts to the morning sun.

The effing birds had interrupted a dream. Normally, Harry would be overjoyed at the concept of having his traditional dreams interrupted. However, this was a particularly good dream; Harry and Hermione were romping around again, and this time, he was about to see Hermione’s boobs without her Lousy Damn Blouse and her God-Damn Lousy Bra. Even though it was just a dream, Harry was going to see what Hermione’s nipples looked like. But no, the effing birds had to wake him up from his wonderful wet-dream by starting a fucking tweet fest!

Harry woke with a pitiful groan and tried to shield his eyes from the blinding rays of the sun. Getting out of bed, he resisted the temptation to open his window and fire of a couple of Stunners in hopes of hitting some of the effing birds. So Harry satisfied his urge to cause the effing birds some discomfort by stretching out one of his arms and gave a two-fingered salute to all birds in general. After his shower, he trounced down to the common room and his sour mood suddenly vanished.

There was Hermione, curled up on her favorite chair with a book in her lap. The early morning sunlight shined through her hair, giving her the appearance of an angel with a glowing halo. Harry felt a sudden warmth travel through his body as he saw his friend; the friend that he now realized was quite beautiful in his eyes. He noticed that he had a bounce to his step, and tried to correct it before Hermione saw him; real men don’t bounce, real men strut. Harry had learned this important fact from the late night conversations with his dorm mates about the fairer sex and what they liked; he was told with certainty that women like a manly strut, among other things such as flowers, chocolates, and other “girly” things. He had listened closely to Dean and Seamus when they described how real men walked. As he bounced in an un- manly way toward Hermione, he tried to strut the way his friends had described. Unfortunately, he was unable to completely counteract the bounce with his emerging strutting abilities and ended up with a saunter. But in Harry’s defense, it was a manly saunter, not the effeminate way Blaise Zabini walked.

“Morning, Hermione,” Harry greeted the witch with an incredibly silly grin plastered on his face.

“Good morning, Harry,” she returned the greeting with an equally smitten smile.

“About last night…” began Harry while he shoved his hands in his pockets to hide how nervous he was. “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you about… you know.”

“It’s okay, Harry. It was the first time for both of us,” Hermione replied and patted the seat next to her. Harry took the invitation and the two teens cuddled. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

The couple preceded to have a nice fifteen-minute snog session where they playfully explored each other’s bodies. Harry was even so bold to open Hermione’s blouse. Unfortunately she was wearing a white cotton bra so he still didn’t get to see what her nipples looked like. But this didn’t stop him playing with her boobs mind you. It was an activity that Harry had become quite fond of, he loved how her mounds felt in his hands and her loved the way Hermione moaned and purred as he cupped, squeezed, caressed, kissed, licked, and suckled on them, even through the accursed bra. During the snog and boob fondling session, ‘Harry, Jr.’ stirred only a little, apparently the appendage was still worn-out from the very welcomed workout it received the previous evening.

After both teens had become completely flushed, Hermione pulled away and suggested, “We should really go and see McGonagall,” she stated, her lips red and puffy. “We have to ask her if we can stay in the castle.”

“Are you sure she’ll be up this early?” asked Harry as they walked hand in hand to the Headmistress’ office.

“I’m positive,” answered Hermione. The couple walked up to the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to McGonagall’s new quarters.

“Would you please tell the Headmistress we would like to see her?” Hermione requested of the stone sentinel.

“I’ll go fetch her,” the statue grumbled. After a moment or two, the gargoyle stepped to the side, and McGonagall rushed out into the hallway while trying to put on her dressing robe and brandishing her wand at the same time.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” the Headmistress demanded on the verge of panic.

“Nothing’s wrong, ma’am,” Hermione said, “We just wanted to ask you a question.”

“But the gargoyle told me it was an emergency!” McGonagall practically shouted. “He said that Potter was spewing blood from his mouth!”

Behind them, the gargoyle let out a grumbling chuckle.

“Oh, you cheeky bugger!” McGonagall cursed. “That’s the third time this week he’s pulled a prank on me! I swear, I’ll find a replacement if you don’t straighten up!” The Headmistress took a calming breath before turning her attention to the pair in front of her. “What can I do for you two?”

“We would like to ask a favor,” stated Hermione. Harry saw McGonagall’s eyes dart down and then back up. He glanced down and noticed the he and Hermione were still holding hands.

“And what would that favor be?” asked McGonagall with a saucy grin and a blush. Harry nearly went into shock at the sight; he had never imagined, nor wanted to imagine, what McGonagall would look like with a saucy grin. He loved and respected his mentor, but it truly frightened the young wizard to see such a grin stretched across her face. Harry had rarely seen the Headmistress with anything but a stern look upon her face and he was taken back. The sassy smile was very disturbing on McGonagall’s face. It made Harry feel very uncomfortable both physically and emotionally.

“You see, Harry has been, and will, be a target for Voldemort,” Hermione began, not noticing Harry’s current discomfort. “And Harry doesn’t really stand a chance against him. Not unless we get some training.”

“What would you suggest, Ms. Granger?”

“May we please stay here at the castle so that we can use the library and other facilities to train?” Hermione asked as if she had spent hours preparing the question. Knowing Hermione, that is probably exactly what she did. She more than likely had written several drafts of the question in her Day Planner and chose the one she thought would be best received.

“Yes, you may,” answered McGonagall. The Headmistress then added with a wry wink as she headed back up to her chambers, “But when you use the ‘other facilities’, please clean up after yourselves.”

“What do you think she meant by that?” Hermione asked, as the teens turned away from the now closed doorway. Harry replied mutely by holding up their clasped hands. “She saw, do you think she suspects…?” Hermione began to ask before answering herself. “Of course she does, otherwise she wouldn’t have used the ‘clean up’ reference.”

“Are we that messy?” asked Harry.

“I may not be, but you are,” replied Hermione with a wink.

After a quick breakfast, Harry and Hermione proceeded to the library.

“Alright, let’s just head straight to the Restricted Section and start reading up on some of the more powerful magics,” Hermione ordered.

Several hours later, Hermione had a very large stack of books that she’d labeled as being “potentially useful” and another, much smaller stack marked “worthless.” The “potentially useful” stack intimidated Harry; there were at least six-dozen books in that stack. How Hermione thought that the two of them could read all that material, let alone actually retain the knowledge, was beyond him. Harry, on the other hand, had skimmed through no more than four books and found nothing remotely helpful in his destined fight with Voldemort. He found two particularly powerful transfigurations where one could turn a wizard into a giant toad, and another which would turn a toad into tadpoles according to the illustration… Harry reread the entry and corrected himself, it wasn’t “tadpoles,” it was semen. Harry repressed a shudder as an image played out in his head of a man turning into a giant toad then into a large pool of spunk. Then he thought of Snape and figured that it would be a fitting end to the traitor. He marked the page for future study.

“This is going to take forever,” exclaimed Hermione. “If only we had something to go on. A weakness of Voldemort’s that you excel in…”

“Yeah, but I don’t see how ‘the power he knows not’ will help,” Harry said. “I always thought that bit was rubbish.”

Hermione lifted her gaze up from her book and her eyes burned a hole into Harry.

“What was that?” she asked impatiently.

“What was what?” Harry replied, taken back at her steely gaze.

“What did you say about the power Voldemort doesn’t have?”

“Oh, that,” Harry said relieved. He was worried that he had said something to upset Hermione. “It was just something mentioned in the silly prophesy.”

Hermione closed her book and was obviously trying to compose herself as she strummed her fingers on the cover of a discarded book.

“Do you mean to tell me that there was more to the prophesy than ‘me against him’ as you originally told me?” she asked very slowly, as if she was speaking to a dim-witted child.

“Just a bit,” Harry replied with more than a little touch of fear. Whenever Hermione had gotten this way in the past, Harry always knew that he was in for trouble. And usually, rightfully so.

“Like what?” The thinly veiled anger started to seep out of her body and Harry’s fear grew.

“Um…