Family Matters: Chapter Twelve
Chapter 12
It had been a week since Harry's attempted suicide, and Hermione was trying to revivify her love life with Harry. Your husband tried to commit suicide, and your only concern is that your sex life isn't what it used to be? You selfish cuntmuffin. He would cuddle with her, but even though he was obviously quite interested in more, he refused to let it happen. She was currently laying on her back in the back yard again, thinking about the conversation she'd just had with Harry. He was currently talking with her mother.
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"Hermione, I'm sorry, I can't," he said. "I'm not worthy of something so precious anymore." Hermione's vagina is made of precious metals, gems, and the tears of orphan puppies.
"Harry, we all told you that we forgive you. Dad was right. It was unusual and extremely unlikely, but it happened, and the fact that you … you …" She shuddered as she remembered finding Harry semi-conscious in the bath tub, his blood darkening the water. "Your trying to kill yourself afterwards tells us all that you never meant it to happen." It tells me that Harry needs some sort of therapy. But why seek professional help when you can fix all your problems with a liberal dose of poontang?
He shuddered. "My problem is that, in my own mind, I cheated on you. Would you accept it if I'd slept with - oh, let's pick a name - Cho Chang, even if I were drunk at the time? If the note had said that I'd slept with Cho Chang while drunk, would you be as forgiving?" Wow, Harry. I thought you were smarter than that. If you can't see the difference between that situation and what happened, then there is no hope for you.
She looked at him for a long moment. "Okay, fair question. No, it is not. It's a stupid question. Anyway, they argue some more. It is very tedious. Harry is portraying what happened as him being so horny that he boned Hermione's mother instead of her because Helen was right there. I didn't think that was what happened, but if it was, that's even creepier.
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She heard the sliding door open, and then the lights to the pool clicked on. She sat up to see Harry looking at her, and he dove quickly into the pool. Hmm, was he fucking my mom again?… maybe I'd better climb in the pool and find out …. She dove into the pool herself, and guided herself toward Harry underwater. She opened her eyes as she neared him, and found that she had certainly been right. Slowing to almost a stop she gently slid up his body, feeling his erection quiver as they touched. Breaking the surface of the water, she said, "Hello, love. Feeling better?"
"A bit. She's helped me see that I'm punishing you by trying to punish myself." His eyes suddenly held his entire heart in them. "Even after that, you truly still love me?" SHE HAS SAID SO A MILLION TIMES, YOU INSECURE TWATWAFFLE.
Her answer was not verbal. Instead, she pressed her lips to his and kissed him. Almost immediately her tongue brushed his lower lip, entreating him to let her inside, which he did. The kiss was hungry and passionate, and she knew that her heart was pounding so hard that it was going to explode. And it did. The end. he could feel it. She smiled to herself and wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him as tightly to her as she could. "Harry?" she whispered. "Please love me again."
"I've always loved you, Hermione. But just as a sister. I just never admitted it until recently."
"No, love me. Physically." She nibbled gently on his ear and whispered again, "Fuck me, Harry. I want you." When he paused, she added, "Please, my love?"
He responded by kissing her again and grabbing her buttocks. I don't think the word "buttocks" should ever be used in a sex scene. He lifted her enough to free his organ from between the two of them, and he began to play a lovely fugue by Bach she reached down to guide him inside her. Really? In the pool? Without lube? Ouch. The contended sound she made as he began to stretch her so deliciously Kinsfire, you have a talent for making sex scenes extremely unsexy. Congratulations. was somewhere between a sigh and a moan. "Oh gods yes, Harry!" she whispered in his ear as she grabbed his neck. "Make me yours again."
He began to gently thrust again, and as she looked in his eyes, she let all the love she still felt for him shine out. What the fuck is with these people and their super expressive eyes? Honestly, I'd prefer it if they just changed color. His own eyes widened, and she could see the hint of tears there. She lost track of time as they simply enjoyed each other's body, expressing their feelings in the ultimate physical fashion. Finally, on her second or third orgasm (she wasn't sure, and she really didn't care - as long as it was more than one OOOOOk there. Kinsfire, you are in for some disappointment when you get around to actually having sex with a real woman.), she felt him swell slightly, and then he came, pressing into her as tightly as he could.
Blah blah blah. Apparently the difference between fucking and making love is how many orgasms you have or something? So listen up, ladies! If you have fewer than two orgasms, it means your significant other doesn't really love you.
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Cut for more stupid cutesy dialogue between Harry and Hermione.
“I was only joking about making up for that week, Harry! Not that I’m complaining, but we have to go into Diagon Alley sometime soon, and I want to walk straight.” She looked at him for a moment, and before his face could fall, she said, “Oh, the hell with it. I’m yours, Mister Potter.” She slid under the blanket, and soon he felt her mouth surround him, and he pulled her close enough to do what they had taken to calling French kissing. Uh...what THEY call French kissing? Silly me, I thought that's what EVERYONE called French kissing. He felt her moan as he teased her mercilessly, and in short order, they had properly woken each other.
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“I don’t suppose you two would be interested in a second breakfast?” Helen asked with a naughty grin on her face. “You certainly seemed to be interested in getting your fill a short time ago.”
Blushing, Harry said, “Thank you, Mum. For the talk - for everything. I’m still going to be working it through, but you convinced me that all I was doing my way was hurting my wife.”
“Well, the four boys from Liverpool said it all those years ago, but it’s true. All you need is love. With our love supporting you, you’ll get through this, Harry. We all will.” She turned to Hermione. “I think what you’ve been waiting for has arrived, dear. Very late, and I think they’ll want your response as for classes you’ll take back as fast as possible.”
They get their O.W.L. results.
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“Rats!” Harry said. “I was hoping you’d get twelve.”
“I saw no reason to take the Divination O.W.L., since I think that Trelawney is such a fraud. I decided to spend my time on worthwhile pursuits, like doing well on all my other classes. Hermione wasn't taking Divination at all. She stopped after third year. I’m still annoyed about that Runes grade though. Astronomy I’ll take again, since they’re offering.”
“I will too,” Harry said with a laugh. “You worked so hard to help me study that it doesn’t seem right to let a simple Acceptable go. I’ll bet you a hundred Galleons, though, that Ron lets his stand.”
“Sucker bet,” she laughed in reply. WHY THE RON HATE? WHAT HAS RON EVER DONE? Geez. “Not taking it. So, how’d you do?”
“Well, I know I got at least one O.W.L.,” he chuckled.
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Blah blah blah. Harry gets this note next to his DADA practical grade:
*** The proctor stated that if there were a grade above Outstanding, this student would have been granted such a grade. This is stupid.
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“Before you ask - yes, I’m retaking History of Magic. You think I want a Dreadful on my grade record?” O.W.L.s are not the SAT's. You can't just retake them if you don't like your grade. And Harry only cares about his O.W.L. scores because he wants to get into the N.E.W.T. level classes necessary to be an auror. He smiled at her.
“Hmm, I am rubbing off on you,” she smiled back. He leered at her with a twinkle in his eyes. “Harry!” Smiling demurely, she said, “At least give a girl some recovery time.”
“Okay,” he said. Looking down at a non-existent wristwatch, he said, “How about now?”
She playfully swatted his arm, and sat down to her list of classes. “Snape’s going to hate that. You managed to get an Outstanding in Potions? I weep for canon. You can take his N.E.W.T. level class now. That’s one of them you need for Auror training, right?” I need more pictures of cute animals. Now!
He scowled. “Yeah, but I’m not so sure about doing that anymore. Yeah, it would be nice to track down and catch the bad guys, but … I don’t think I’m really cut out for that, you know? Harry has wanted to be an Auror since he first found out what they were. What's next, is he going to realize he doesn't like Quidditch because he'd rather be boning Hermione? Maybe I should talk to Professor McGonagall?” He looked up to the clock and realized that it was nine AM. “Maybe I can ask her here for some career counselling?”
“Get dressed first,” Helen said. Harry jumped from startlement THAT IS NOT A WORD and headed for the room he now shared with Hermione. “May need to put a sign up in your room, when Hogwarts gives you married quarters. ‘Did you remember to dress?’ He may need it, or else the other girls in your dormitory are going to get quite the eyeful.”
“Agreed,” Hermione said. “He is great eye candy, though, isn’t he?” I feel ill.
“No denying that, dear. Go get dressed yourself, and then you can call this teacher while Doug and I get ourselves ready.”
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A short time later they were sitting in the family room with coffee and crumb cake while Harry explained the situation to the deputy headmistress. “The Department of Mysteries scenario really brought home to me the other side of being an Auror, and what I learned afterwards hit even harder.” He told her the prophecy, knowing that she was in the Order. “I’m not a killer. Aurors only kill when necessary. They're not hitmen. I don’t want to kill anyone, but I know of at least one murder I have to perform, even if it will be considered an execution, or self defence, or whatever. If it's self defense, it's not murder. Please learn the difference. But it comes down to not wanting to kill. And the Auror job is one where I’d have to, on a regular basis, be prepared to kill."
Harry whines some more about how he could never be an Auror, and how being a Quidditch player would be unfulfilling. McGonagall suggests that he and Hermione both teach. Great. This is some sort of bizarre prequel for "Hogwarts Exposed," isn't it?
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Ginny calls. Apparently, Ron got nine O.W.L.'s, which is surprising, since Harry only got eight. Also, for some bizarre reason, Harry and Hermione are going to pretend to be only engaged, not married. This story is as confusing as it is disturbing.
Chapter 11 ~ Table of Contents ~ Chapter 13