It Could Only Happen to Harry
WARNING: This story is for mature audiences only. It contains representations of sexual acts and situations.
NOTE: There's a smattering of plot here, but mostly it's just an excuse to get Harry laid in an entertaining fashion. I try to stick to canon personalities as much as possible. All of the action takes place the summer after Harry's seventh year. There will be a bit of femslash, but no male slash.
The last two books never happened. Dumbledore is alive and Harry isn't a horcrux. Not that it really matters.
DISCLAIMER: None of this belongs to me. Harry Potter and his girls (alas) belong to J.K. Rowling.
Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, now known as The-Boy-Who-Won, walked hesitantly toward the open doors of the Hospital Wing. He had defeated Voldemort for good only three weeks ago, but he would almost rather face him again than deal with his current problem.
It was his victory over Voldemort that lay at the root of his current discomfort. When Harry struck down the Dark Lord on the Hogwarts lawn, a rush of raw power had flowed from Voldemort to Harry. Harry didn't understand it, but he suddenly felt incredibly powerful and alive.
At first he had welcomed the new sensation. He felt practically invincible, and he no longer had the weight of the prophecy hanging from his neck. The entire wizarding world celebrated his victory, and Harry celebrated along with them.
It took only a few days for him to realize that his new power came with a price.
It began with a crushing weight in his chest that made it hard for him to breathe. He felt relief only when he expended great amounts of magical energy in the Room of Requirement. Yet he never approached magical exhaustion no matter what he tried.
It continued, however, with a much more embarrassing condition: Harry now had a nearly constant erection.
As a red-blooded 17-year-old male, Harry was no stranger to being easily aroused. But this was different. He was now almost painfully erect at all times, and felt the need to 'relieve' himself up to 10 times per day. The relief lasted only for a half-hour or so, and then his erection would return, crying out for his attention. Even someone as sexually inexperienced as Harry knew this wasn't normal.
So now he was approaching the one person he knew wouldn't laugh at his predicament. Madame Pomfrey. He had considered approaching Hermione, but this problem was a little too personal in nature.
Likewise, he couldn't see himself approaching Dumbledore about this situation. The aged Headmaster had trained him personally for the last two years, and was an expert on all things magical, but there was no way he was going to talk to the old man about his penis.
Knocking loudly on the open doorway to the hospital wing, Harry girded himself for the humiliating conversation to come.
"Er, Madam Pomfrey?"
"Come in, Mr. Potter," said the matronly nurse after she bustled out of her office. "Don't be shy. What can I do for you? Don't tell me you've managed to injure yourself again already!"
"Not exactly," Harry muttered, his face heating up. "You see, I…well, it's kind of embarrassing."
"Well, I've seen and heard it all, young man. I assure you that this will stay between us. What is the matter?"
Harry spent the next five minutes explaining to Madam Pomfrey the nature of his new condition. By the time he finished, she was staring openly at his crotch.
"I see. You say that you feel relief from the pressure after you expend a lot of your magic? And you feel a similar relief after you masturbate?"
Harry nodded, his face beet red.
"Alright, Mr. Potter, I need to evaluate your condition. Please remove all of your clothing."
Harry nearly choked at her command, but she held up her hand imperiously. "None of that, Mr. Potter. They all look alike to me. Now disrobe."
He reluctantly removed every last stitch of clothing, even his shirt. Pomfrey began by moving her wand in small circles over his chest, muttering as she went.
He nearly yelped when her wand dropped near his erect penis. She leaned in to examine it closely, and Harry wondered if it was possible to die from embarrassment. She moved her wand slowly around his entire length, stopping for a moment to poke at each testicle. He relaxed slightly when she finally stepped back.
"Hmmm…your heart rate and blood pressure are elevated, but your genitals appear perfectly normal. I'm not sure what's happening. You may put your clothes back on, Mr. Potter. Please have a seat; I need to fetch something."
Harry was never more relieved to follow her instructions.
When Pomfrey returned from her office, she carried with her a red jewel the size of a tennis ball. Harry looked at it curiously.
"This is a special diagnostic tool. It's used to measure magical potential in both objects and people. It will basically tell me how strong your magical core is. Please hold it for me."
Harry did so, and the stone glowed an even deeper red. Pomfrey waved her wand over Harry's hand, and her mouth fell open in shock.
"Heavenly Merlin," she gasped.
"What is it?" Harry asked, his sense of impending doom kicking into high gear.
"Your magical core…it…it registers over 9000!"
"Over 9000!?" Harry asked incredulously, then reflected for a moment. "Er, is that a lot?"
"I should say so, Mr. Potter," Pomfrey replied, shaking her head. "The average witch or wizard would register about 1000, and the Headmaster would probably exceed 3000. 9000 is simply unheard of. And dangerous," she added as an afterthought.
Harry swallowed heavily, and wondered what new horror he would have to deal with now that Voldemort was gone. He couldn't seem to catch a break.
"Well, this clearly has something to do with your battle with the Dark Lord, but I've never seen anything like it. I will need to confer with St. Mungo's over this, Mr. Potter."
When Harry started to object, she cut him off. "I'm sorry, but your life is likely in danger. It is my duty as your healer to find out what is happening. I have my suspicions, but I need to consult with experts."
Harry sighed and reluctantly gave his permission for her to seek answers elsewhere.
"One last thing, Mr. Potter. I'm going to need a sample," she said, picking up a small empty beaker from a cabinet on the wall.
"Of your sperm."
Harry groaned pitifully and closed his eyes, wondering just how much worse his day was going to get.
Two hours later, Harry sat on his usual bed in the hospital wing as Pomfrey explained what she had discovered.
"I'm afraid the news is not encouraging. It is imperative that we find a way to drain your magical core as soon as possible. Everyone agrees that your magic is literally leaking out of you, and sooner or later it will kill you. Your body simply cannot tolerate so much power."
Harry's stomach sank as she spoke. He had expected the diagnosis to be unpleasant, but not life-threatening. To have endured so much training and battle, only to die of possessing too much magic…it was absurd.
"What do we do now?" he asked weakly.
"The experts at St. Mungo's agree that there is no conventional treatment for your condition. It is simply unheard of, I'm afraid. One healer recommended that we place a block on your magic, but I believe that would either kill you instantly or turn you into a squib."
Harry sighed, trying to contain his rising panic. The answers were never simple when he was involved. "Surely there's something we can do."
"Well…an old Indian healer who consults at St. Mungo's knows of a ritual. It is—unorthodox, shall we say—but it may be the only thing that can save your life."
"Whatever it is, I'll do it," Harry said hurriedly. "What kind of ritual is it?"
"It's a power sharing ritual that was once used frequently in India. It has fallen into disuse over the years, apparently, and to my knowledge it has never been used in Britain."
"Well?" Harry asked impatiently when she hesitated.
"It's a sex-based ritual, Mr. Potter," she said quietly. "It was designed for use between husbands and wives. It allows you to give a portion of your magic to another person. There are some strict conditions, however."
Harry's mouth dropped open at her words, and it took him a few moments to gather his wits. "Sex-based? What conditions?" he choked out.
"There must be a state of mutual affection between you and your, er, partner. It will not work with strangers or mere acquaintances with whom you are politely friendly."
"Is that all?" Harry asked, dreading the answer.
"No. I'm afraid that you will likely need to perform this ritual multiple times. The trouble is that it is dangerous to perform the ritual more than once per partner, and—well, given how much magic you need to lose, it may require several partners."
"Oh my God," Harry said miserably, his head falling into his hands. "This will never work. I'm going to die."
"Now, now, Mr. Potter, I'll hear none of that. This is likely the only treatment available to you, so be thankful that it exists. I'm sure there are plenty of young ladies willing to, er, help you out. I suggest you speak to Miss Granger about this immediately. She will be able to help you create a list of potential partners."
Harry snorted. "You're joking."
"I'm afraid not. I don't know enough about your personal life to help. I will arrange for the ritual to take place, but you must locate willing witches on your own. Remember, it is imperative that the affection be mutual. That means you must already know the girl or woman and feel nothing but good will towards her."
Harry swallowed heavily again. He wasn't friendly with very many girls. Romance had been the last thing on his mind as he trained to face Voldemort.
"You said it was used by husbands and wives. That doesn't mean I'll be marrying the witches, does it?"
"No, but since the witches will be gaining so much of your magic, they are likely to feel a certain—fondness—for you the rest of their lives."
Harry resisted the urge to swear blackly. How was he going to be able to find girls willing to go through with this? He was quickly developing a headache to match the pressure in his groin. His erection was straining once again against his underwear, unsatisfied with the release it had experienced earlier in the afternoon.
"How long do I have?"
"It is best for the process to begin as soon as possible. I will give you a deadline of, say, 48 hours, and then we can commence with the ritual."
"48 hours," Harry muttered. "Madam Pomfrey, I can't do this. I don't know anything about girls. I've barely spoken to half the girls in my year. I don't…I'm a virgin, for Merlin's sake!"
Pomfrey shrugged. "Well, I daresay you won't be soon enough. Your partners need not be virgins themselves, and they may be of any age or power level. But you must find them soon, Mr. Potter. Time is of the essence."
Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly. "This could only happen to me. How many?"
"How many girls? You said I needed multiple partners."
Pomfrey thought for a moment. "I recommend at least four to start, and then we can analyze your core once again."
"Fuck me," Harry muttered, and Pomfrey arched an eyebrow at him.
"It may come to that, Mr. Potter, if you don't act quickly. Now go find Miss Granger. I'm afraid I must speak to the Headmaster about this."
A half-hour later, Harry sat alone in the Gryffindor Common Room, trying to think of what to say to Hermione. He had been living at Hogwarts since the final battle—there was no way he would be returning to the Dursleys—and several other students had remained at the castle as well.
He had just asked Dobby to summon Hermione from the library, and he expected her any minute now. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he had begun to sweat as his nerves combined with his surging magic. He was comfortable on a battlefield, but the past two years of training had done little for his social skills.
He closed his eyes as Hermione opened the door to the Common Room and came inside. It was now or never.
"You wanted to see me, Harry?" Hermione asked curiously, then noticed the state of her best friend. "Merlin, what's wrong? You look terrible!"
Hermione had grown into her looks in the past two years, and though no one would call her a great beauty, she did occasionally get a surreptitious glance. She sat down next to Harry on the couch, practically in his lap, and her closeness did nothing to ease the strain of his erection.
"I…I don't really know where to begin," murmured Harry, looking at his shoelaces.
"How about at the beginning?" grinned Hermione, trying to lighten Harry's obviously grim mood.
Harry blew out a large breath. "Right, then. Here goes…"
For the next few minutes, Harry explained his increased power and recent symptoms to Hermione, blushing madly all the while. He then recounted most of what Madame Pomfrey had told him, apologizing at the end for getting her involved in yet another of his insane problems.
When he finished, Hermione started chuckling, then couldn't restrain herself from laughing outright. Harry blushed even harder at her response.
"Oh, Harry," she cried, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes, "this could only happen to you. I'd say you were taking the mickey if I didn't know you were a terrible actor."
"Well, thanks, I suppose," Harry said indignantly.
"I'm sorry, Harry, I didn't mean to laugh, really. This is serious, and you know that I'll help you however I can. You just sit tight for a few minutes. I want to speak to Madame Pomfrey."
Harry nodded glumly and watched Hermione's back as she retreated to the door. It didn't escape his notice that she was still shaking with suppressed laughter.
When she returned a half-hour later, Hermione was carrying a thick book and had a more serious expression on her face.
"Right. Sorry about laughing earlier, Harry. You didn't tell me you could die from this in a matter of days."
"Must have slipped my mind," he muttered darkly.
"Hmph," Hermione responded, seating herself next to Harry again. She opened the book and spread it on her lap. "I spoke to Madame Pomfrey, and she retrieved a book on the ritual for me. We need to make a list of potential girls right away."
"I know. I just…I can't believe this is real."
"Like I said, Harry, only you," Hermione replied, shaking her head and looking at the book. "It says the ritual is rooted in affection. That doesn't require love, but it does mean that you have to like the girl who, er, partners with you. She has to like you as well. It helps if you're sexually attracted to the other person, but it's not required. We need to be as thorough as possible. You start naming names, and I'll help you think them through. Age doesn't matter, but we should probably say no lower than 16."
Hermione set aside the book and grabbed a quill and some parchment, while Harry rubbed his forehead in thought. He furtively adjusted the uncomfortable erection in his pants, but Hermione caught the movement.
"Is it, er, bothering you right now?" she asked hesitantly.
Harry glared at her in response.
"Right," she said, the color rising in her cheeks. "The list, then?"
Harry sighed. "Well, at least we know not to include Ginny."
Hermione snorted softly. "Yes, that's quite an easy call."
Ginny Weasley was notorious for having attempted to beguile Harry's affections with a love potion during his sixth year. She had been found out and almost universally ostracized afterwards. Ron had defended her actions to Hermione, and that potential relationship had died a sudden death as well.
Harry sat in silence for the next minute or so, lost in thought.
When he didn't immediately suggest any names, Hermione scolded him. "This is important, Harry. I can't help you if you don't give me something to work with."
She too was on edge because it was clear that her name belonged on the top of the list. They had been best friends for seven years, and there was no one closer to Harry.
"This is not exactly easy, Hermione," Harry retorted. "I'm supposed to make a list of all my friends and then ask them if they want to shag? Bloody hell," he moaned, his face finding its way into his palms again.
"I'm sorry," Hermione said gently. "I know this is unpleasant for you. Other guys would do anything for something like this to happen to them, but you're trying to be noble, just as I should expect by now."
When Harry didn't respond, she continued softly. "We both know I'm going to be on the list, Harry, so I may as well be at the top. Now start naming names."
Harry looked up at her, startled. "You would do this for me?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course I would, you prat. It's not exactly how I imagined my first time to be, but I could do worse than sharing it with my best friend. Now come on, start talking."
Harry sighed and leaned back, grimacing again at the tightness in his crotch. "All right. What about…"
An hour later they had exhausted all possibilities, eliminating those girls who would never participate in such a thing or were already in serious relationships. The list of potential lovers for Harry consisted of only five girls:
Hermione and Luna were obvious choices, as they were now his closest friends, along with Neville. Tonks had been his trainer during sixth year, and the two enjoyed an easy camaraderie with one another. Given how much she liked to tease Harry, Hermione had no doubt that she would participate.
The other choices were trickier. Harry had eventually made up with Parvati after their Yule Ball disaster, and the beautiful Indian girl had become friendly with him and his group over the past two years. She often flirted with him, but she flirted with lots of people. Harry was fond of her, but he was uncertain whether she liked him well enough to participate in the ritual.
Hermione had bristled slightly at the choice of Fleur Delacour, whom she did not like, but Harry insisted that she belonged on the list. The stunningly beautiful quarter-veela had fought with the Order during the war, spending most of the previous year at Hogwarts. She had dated Bill Weasley for a time, but had broken it off with him after she discovered what his mother and siblings had attempted to do to Harry. Fleur had always treated him kindly, insisting that she owed him greatly for rescuing Gabrielle during the Tri-Wizard tournament.
They had eliminated quite a few of Harry's present and former classmates from the list of potentials. He was cordial with Susan Bones, but she had been dating Neville for several months. He was likewise on good terms with his former quidditch teammates—Angelina, Alicia, and Katie—but he hadn't seen any of the girls in over a year. He didn't think they met the condition of 'mutual affection.'
If the girls on the final list didn't want to participate, Harry wasn't sure what he would do.
"Okay, Harry," said Hermione, eyeing the list, "I think this is the best we can do. You need to write some letters right away, and see if the girls will come for a meeting at Hogwarts tomorrow. It's probably best not to say too much in the letter. I can help you write it if you want."
Harry nodded, then grimaced. "That's fine, Hermione. Let's do it a little later. I need to, uh, take care of something first."
"Oh," said Hermione, catching on after a moment's confusion. "You need to, er, relieve yourself first, I suppose."
Harry sighed and closed his eyes. "Yeah, something like that. It won't take long, and then we can write the letters."
He made it halfway across the room before Hermione cleared her throat and hesitantly spoke his name.
There was a few seconds of silence, and Harry turned to look at her. She was staring at the floor between them.
"Can I watch?" she asked uncertainly.
Harry's heart suddenly threatened to beat out of his chest. "Say what?"
"I mean…I know it's a very, erm, personal thing…I just thought that…well, I don't really know how this whole process, er, works…and it might be, you know, educational. And I'll be seeing all of you later, and it might make things less awkward and…"
Harry held up a hand to stop Hermione's rambling. "Are you bloody serious?"
Harry shook his head, hardly able to believe his ears. "You want to come upstairs and watch me toss one off. That is what you're saying."
"I…I…." Hermione stuttered, her face reddening. "I just thought, since we would have to do more later, that you wouldn't mind if I observed how everything works. I've never seen a boy naked, Harry, except in a book, and I thought that…"
"Sweet fucking Merlin," Harry interrupted her again. "I can't believe this is happening to me."
He looked at her for a few seconds then shrugged. "Come on then."
Harry turned and made his way slowly up the stairs, while Hermione remained rooted to the spot. When his words finally sank in, she hurried to follow him.
"You're sure about this?" Harry asked, sitting on the edge of his bed.
Hermione nodded meekly and tucked a bushy strand of hair behind her ear.
Snorting again in disbelief, he stood and slowly disrobed. When he was down to nothing but his boxers, he looked again at Hermione.
"Last chance to bail out."
"No; go ahead," Hermione said breathlessly, her eyes never leaving the huge bulge in Harry's boxers.
Harry pulled the boxers off quickly and kicked them onto his bed. They landed next to Hermione. She didn't notice.
Her eyes were locked on his fully-erect cock, pointing upwards and bouncing slightly as he moved. Harry spread his hands outwards in a gesture of surrender.
"That's all of me."
"Wow," Hermione whispered. "That's…wow."
Harry crossed his arms over his chest and smiled smugly at her. "Hermione Granger at a loss for words. Now I've seen everything."
Her next words wiped the smile off his face.
"Is that as big as it gets?"
"Er, yeah…I mean…I know it's not that big, but…"
"That's not what I meant, Harry," she huffed, coming out of her stupor. "It looks plenty big to me."
Harry chuckled nervously. "Well, then, yeah, this is as big as it gets."
His eyes widened as she suddenly pulled her wand from her robes and pointed it at his penis. He hastily moved to cover himself with his hands.
"What the bloody hell are you doing?!"
"Oh," said Hermione, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry. I was just, erm, curious. May I do something?"
Harry nodded hesitantly, his eyes never leaving Hermione's wand. She moved closer to him, and to his shock, placed her wand at the tip of his penis and muttered something under her breath.
His shivered as she moved the tip of her wand slowly down his shaft, stopping at the patch of black hair at its base. He wondered what on earth she was doing.
Hermione raised her wand and flicked it, leaving a number in the air.
"6.4 inches," she mused aloud. "That's slightly above average, I believe."
"Er…okay," Harry responded, still in shock that Hermione had been so bold. He should have known, he supposed, that her intellectual curiosity would overwhelm her even in a situation like this one.
She returned her wand to her robes and sat back down on the bed, placing her hands on her knees. "Sorry. I was curious. Please proceed," she said, giving him an abashed grin.
Harry snorted at his best friend's antics.
"Right. I'm just…Merlin I can't believe I'm doing this…I'm just going to close my eyes so I don't see you, alright?"
Hermione shrugged. "However you normally do it, Harry."
Harry grabbed a clean sock from his trunk and moved to the edge of the bed; he was within three feet of Hermione, giving her an open view from his left.
He closed his eyes, trying to ignore her presence, and began stroking. Light at first, his grip hardened as he applied more pressure to his cock, wanting this awkward scene to be over as soon as possible. The pressure building in his loins was calling out for release, and he longed for the sensation of relief that would follow even more than he longed for the sensation of orgasm.
After thirty seconds of stroking, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt something brush the tip of his penis. He opened his eyes and looked at Hermione questioningly.
"Sorry," Hermione blushed, examining a glistening drop of pre-cum on the tip of her finger. "It was about to, er…well, sorry."
"No worries," Harry smiled, amazed at what was happening in his dorm room.
"How long does it usually take?" she asked.
"Not long now. Usually just a couple minutes when I'm really, er, pent up."
Hermione nodded and crossed her arms over her chest, ready for the show to continue.
He began stroking again, moving rhythmically for almost a minute. His pace increased and his breathing became shallow as he felt orgasm approaching.
He stopped stroking when he heard Hermione move closer to him. He opened his eyes again, and saw that her face was slightly flushed as she leaned in closer for a better look.
"Would you mind if I, er, helped?" she asked in a quavering voice, her eyes meeting Harry's uncertainly.
Harry's penis answered for him, throbbing suddenly at the thought of Hermione's assistance. He had occasionally fantasized about just such a scenario, but for the most part never thought that Hermione would be anything more than his best friend.
"You really want to?"
"Yes," she said, not bothering to justify her answer with an excuse.
Hermione repositioned herself on the bed and reached forward with her right hand. Harry shivered when she made contact.
She ran her index finger along the length of him, testing the texture and feel of his skin. She made small swirls around his engorged head, fascinated at the pulse it made in response.
"Your skin is so soft," she murmured, and Harry moaned as her finger lightly explored the underside of his cock.
He exhaled when she gripped his balls lightly in her hand, exploring the weight and texture of them as well. She gave him a slight squeeze, and Harry closed his eyes to savor the feeling.
She finally wrapped her fingers around his cock, and Harry marveled at their softness. She had small hands, and he thought she could easily grip him with both hands. Her hand began moving slowly up and down his entire length, almost teasing him with her gentleness.
It felt to him as if her curled fingers were barely making contact with his skin. The sensation was maddening.
After what seemed an eternity of light touching, she gripped the base of his cock more firmly and began stroking in earnest. Harry groaned in pleasure.
"Am I doing it right?"
"Merlin, yes. Don't stop."
Hermione obeyed, her grip tightening once more and her tempo increasing. Her hand moved closer to his throbbing head, concentrating most of her friction there. She gripped him more tightly on the upstroke, and it wasn't long before Harry was ready to explode. She looked up at him when his abdominal muscles contracted and he started panting.
"I'm about to cum. Please don't stop," he said, and held out the sock before him.
Three strokes later, Harry's cock twitched in Hermione's hand and he shot forcefully onto the waiting sock. Four times he drilled the sock, until its soaked edge began spilling his cum onto the bed.
Hermione continued stroking as his cum pulsed slowly out, dropping onto the bedspread and sliding down Harry's cock to coat her hand. When Harry finally opened his eyes, she stopped and looked at him inquisitively.
"Did that feel good?" she asked, slightly out of breath.
"Merlin, yes," Harry replied, grinning from ear to ear. "So good you wouldn't understand. It's such a relief….well, I mean, obviously…but it's more than that…it releases my magic somehow."
Hermione nodded in understanding and opened her hand, examining the white fluid that coated her fingers and palm. She raised her palm to her nose and sniffed gingerly, and Harry laughed at her.
"What?" she smiled. "I'm curious. It smells a little like muggle bleach. And it's so warm."
Harry shrugged. "I suppose. I can't say that I've studied the matter."
Hermione stuck out her tongue at him and drew her wand with her left hand. She deftly scourgified her hand, then did likewise for Harry's dripping sock and the wet bedspread.
"Well, that was interesting," she said matter-of-factly, giving Harry a shy smile. "I can't believe I just did that."
Harry beamed at her, relaxed now that he had spent himself. "I can't believe you did either, but I'm not complaining. Feel free to experiment on me whenever you'd like."
"Oh?" Hermione asked archly, feigning annoyance.
"I mean, er, thank you, and that was a very interesting experience."
Hermione chuckled at Harry's sincerity. "Oh, Harry, I'm just playing. I'm sorry if I embarrassed you. I just wondered what…well, you know me…I suppose we'll have to do a lot more than that very soon," she mused in an afterthought.
"True," Harry agreed, not knowing how to further broach the subject with his best friend. "I guess we should get started on those letters, huh?"
Hermione nodded, but Harry noticed that she was staring at his cock again. Despite his orgasm, it hadn't softened significantly, still standing at attention.
"Isn't it supposed to get smaller now?"
"Well…yeah, it's supposed to, but it stays hard pretty much all the time now. Just one of the symptoms of my condition, Madame Pomfrey said. It's bloody uncomfortable, actually."
He was a little surprised that he no longer felt embarrassed to be nude in front of Hermione.
"I bet," Hermione replied, getting to her feet.
"All right, Harry, let's get started on those letters. We need to find you some girls to shag."
NOTE: Hope you enjoyed it. Leave me a review if you did. There's more to come.