Harry Potter - Daniel Radcliffe
Hermione Granger - Emma Watson
Nymphadora Tonks - Natalia Tena
Ron Weasley - Rupert Grint
Siruis Black - Gary Oldman

Remus Lupin - David Thewlis

Fred Weasley - James Phelps
George Weasley - Oliver Phelps
Albus Dumbledore - Michael Gambon

Kingsley Shacklebolt - George Harris
Alastor Moody - Brendan Gleeson
Severus Snape - Alan Rickman

Minerva McGonagall - Catherine Bell
Poppy Pomfrey - Moira Kelly
Hestia Jones - Eve Myles
Emmeline Vance - Dannielle Brent
Amelia Bones - Lauren Holly

Fleur Delacoeur - Liina Brunelle
Aurora Sinistra - Simone Nicole Jean Lahbib Ould Cheikl
Septima Vector - Amanda Tapping

Luna Lovegood: Summer Glau

Narcissa Malfoy - Anna-Louise Plowman

Rose Ayola - Thandie Newton
Ruth Tylor - Sarah Jane Dunn
Mrs. Simhalan - Aishwarya Rai
Cynthia Rockwell-Smith - Gemma Bissix
Marilyn Piers - Camilla Belle
Diane Carver - Kate Beckinsale
Jennifer/Gwendolyn Song-Green - So-Eun Kim
Sun-Yi Song-Green - Jung-Hee Moon

DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter is the property of JK Rowling and Time Warner, I am not writing this for profit.

Set during the summer before Fifth Year...

Mrs. Rose Ayola of Number Eight Privet Drive was in need of a gardener, as her allergies were too intense for her to deal with it while her husband was away. So, in order to get Harry out of the house, Petunia had her nephew go out and do some work for the housewife.

Harry arrived at the house, feeling angry and depressed, but at least he was out of the Dursley's house. He went up to the door to the house, and knocked on it. The door was opened.

"Hello, I'm... Uh..." Harry blinked. He was greeted by a shapely black woman, wearing a very, very thin silk robe. She smiled saucily at the teenaged boy.

"Hello... Harry was it?" She asked in a soft tone. "Won't you come in?"

"I uh..." Harry nodded dumbly and entered. "Um... Don't you have some... Uh... Gardening for me to do?"

"There's no need to rush, is there?" She asked.

"Well, um..."

Mrs. Ayola let her robe slip off one of her shoulders. Harry's jaw dropped again.


"Come now Harry," she said. "No need to play innocent with me..." She winked and smiled. "After all... You do have a reputation..."

She then dropped to her knees, and Harry found himself wondering what the hell had been said, and who had been saying it...


And who to thank.

Mrs. Ruth Tylor was known as the local Gossip Queen. She still hadn't found out who had said that, but she would. Busybodies and gossipers needed to be brought to the neighborhood's attention, after all.

So, per her usual, she was peeking-Ahem, investigating from her bedroom window at Number Ten on Privet Drive, scanning with binoculars for anything particularly juicy.

The Potter boy going into Mrs. Ayola's home was cause for interest. Mrs Ayola greeting the boy dressed like that was the cause for a very wide grin on the blonde gossipmonger's face.

The Potter boy losing his pants ellicited a gasp from the woman's lips.

"No wonder he's always wearing those baggy jeans," she murmured. She checked herself in her closet's full length mirror. Hmm... Her workouts had kept her in very nice shape, she had to say. And while she wasn't as stacked as Mrs. Ayola, she was quite sure her bum was in fine form.

She looked back at the window, and her black eyebrows shot up nearly to her roots.

"Bloody hell...!" Mrs. Tylor's lips felt so very, very dry. She licked them, the hand not holding up her binoculars tugging at her collar.

She had heard the boy knew how to take care of plumbing at the Dursley house, perhaps she should see if he... Measured up.

Harry exited Number Eight, feeling truly relaxed for the first time in a very, very long time. All the tension seemed to have evaporated from his muscles, Mrs. Ayola had let him go with a kiss to his cheek and an invitation to visit whenever he wanted... Provided her husband was away.

Oh. There was a bit of a snag. Adultery. Hmm... Well, he had saved the Wizarding World and his friends' lives several times. Maybe it gave him a bit of leeway in regards to that kind of thing? Surely he was entitled to one sin... Unless you counted each, er, act as a sin in itself...

"Oh Harry?"

Harry turned his head. Mrs... Tylor, he thought, was leaning across the fence. His eyes drifted to her low-cut blouse, and blushed a bit at the sight.

She's not wearing a bra...?

"Uh... Yes Mrs. Tylor?" Harry asked. The older woman grinned.

"Ah... I'm afraid there's something wrong with my sink... Could you possibly take a look at it?"

"Er, well... Sure, Mrs. Tylor," he said with a shrug. Why not? Kept him away from the Dursleys, and hey, it certainly had a better view...


"Mmm... Come back any time, Harry~," cooed Mrs. Tylor, treating him to one last kiss at the door. Harry nodded, a goofy smile seemingly stuck to his face. He walked out the door, limping very, very slightly. Mrs. Tylor watched him go, leaning against the doorframe. Ooh, she was going to need a cushion...

"Great enthusiasm... Poor aim," she muttered, though she did not seem the least bit sorry about it.

Harry walked down to the sidewalk... And was very nearly run over by a woman Mrs. Tylor instantly identified as Mrs. Simhalan, a new tenant at Number Fourteen Privet Drive.

"Oof! Oh damn, I'm so sorry! Are you all right?" Harry asked frantically. The Indian woman groaned, and held her ankle.

"Oww... I think I hurt my ankle... Could you possibly help me home, ah... Harry Potter, right?"

Harry nodded, and helped the beautiful Indian woman up to her feet. She wrapped both arms around him, and Harry's cheeks turned red as her breast was pressed into his cheek.

"Ah, thank you Harry," Mrs. Simhalan practically purred. "I just need some help... Getting up to my bedroom..."

Mrs. Tylor blinked. Mrs. Simhalan never went jogging this early...

The look on the woman's face as Harry wrapped an arm around her waist put the pieces together for her, and the gossip shook her head with a wry chuckle.

"I suppose I can only blame myself," she mused, as she shut her door.

Cynthia Rockwell-Smith sighed heavily as she was greeted at the bus stop by the local dimwit. She couldn't understand why this stupid oaf hadn't gotten the picture that she had no interest in the pillock. After all, who'd want to date a greedy pig like boy?

"Dursley, I've said it over and over again that I do not have any interest in you," the redhead stated flatly. She turned on her heel and walked off.

"Oh come on, Cynthia! I-I managed to beat a sixteen year old, you know!" He protested. "In boxing! I beat him up!"

"Yes, yes, I'm completely sure, good for you," she sniffed. She walked down the sidewalk, haughtily ignoring Dudley's continuing pleas. She paused when her eyes looked over Number Four Privet Drive, Dudley's home.

"Who is that?" She asked, eyes locked firmly on the black haired, wiry, shirtless boy working in the garden. Dudley snorted.

"Huh? Oh, that's my freak of a cousin..."

"Harry?" She asked, blinking again. Good Lord, those large hand-me-downs of his had hidden so very, very much... She found herself licking her lips as her eyes greedily traced the sinewy muscles of the boy's back, the beads of sweat running down his chest and back as he wiped his brow. He wasn't a body builder, he was built like a gymnast-Sleek, firmly muscled without any visible body fat.

"Yeah. He's so skinny and scrawny," Dudley snorted. "Nothing at all on his bones!"

"Yes... Nothing..." Cynthia said, cursing baggy clothes to the deepest, darkest pits of hell. She walked up to the fence, and admired the view a bit longer before Harry noticed her.

"Ah... Hello, Cynthia," he said, a questioning tone in his voice.

"Hello Harry... It's been a while," Cynthia said, her voice a bit lower and huskier. "When was the last time we talked?"

Harry blinked again. "Um... I think you might have said a few things to me in primary school... About my glasses..."

"Right, right," Cynthia nodded. "Say... I was thinking of starting a garden, you know, as a hobby. Think you could come over, help me with the initial, er, plowing or whatever? You've been working out here so long so I know you'd be able to handle it."

"Me?" Harry asked, is some mild disbelief. Cynthia nodded.

"Oh yes... " Her eyes dipped lower, focusing on his crotch. Damn stupid, stupid baggy pants...!

"Well, I could... I'll just have to ask my aunt," Harry said.

"Great. I'll see you in... An hour, say?" Cynthia suggested, mentally calculating how long it would take for her parents to get home. Probably late tonight-They had a bridge club meeting or something, she didn't really care.

"Sure," Harry said.

"Bye Harry," Cynthia said, waving as she headed off. Dudley stared after her, and then glared at his cousin.

"What the hell was that? What's she see in you, freak?"

Many, many retorts came to mind, but for a chance to get the hell out of the Dursleys yard for a few hours, Harry could keep quiet. He shrugged.

"Guess she just wants someone to do manual labor for her," Harry suggested. "Like most women I know."

"Yeah, it's all you're good at, freak!" Dudley sneered.

It hadn't been very hard to convince Aunt Petunia to send him off. Cynthia Rockwell-Smith took after her mother-She was very domineering and cold, and making Harry do more work away from the house was a great idea to Petunia. So, an hour later, Harry was knocking at the door, not even being given the chance to shower.

Cynthia opened the door, dressed in a tight white T-shirt, shorts, and trainers.

"Hello Harry," she said with a smile. "You're right on time..." She sniffed the air. "What's that?"

"Ah... My aunt wouldn't let me take a shower... I'm sorry about that," Harry apologized. Cynthia froze for a moment, and then smiled.

"Well, that just won't do," Cynthia said calmly. "Why don't you come in and have a shower here?"

"Um, sure," Harry said, smiling a bit. Wow, maybe there were nice people on Privet Drive. Cynthia may have been a brat to him when he was little, but he supposed she could have changed.

She led him upstairs, and Harry's eyes couldn't help but be drawn to her bum. Her shorts were so tight, showing off her nice, round bottom. That she was swinging her hips made it all the more difficult to look away.

Harry was led to the bathroom, and Cynthia opened it up for him.

"Go on in, take as long as you need," she said. Harry nodded and smiled back, heading on in. The door closed behind him, and Harry quickly slid out of his clothes before turning on the shower and stepping in.

"Ahh..." He sighed, eyes shut as he enjoyed the warm water flowing over him. This was great...

The shower door opened, and someone stepped in behind him. Harry's eyes opened wide and he looked back.


"Oh hello Harry... Hope you don't mind, but I thought you might need a little help cleaning up," Cynthia purred, very obviously naked even in Harry's blurry vision. "Let's start... Down here, shall we?"

"W-Wait, I-Wooaahhh...!"


A few hours later, Cynthia was laying on her bed, arm over her eyes as she tried to catch her breath. Harry was curled up next to her, also breathing harder than usual from their activities.

"W-W-Wow... Wow..." Cynthia moaned softly. Harry couldn't help his grin, which he hoped didn't look too smug.

"How was that?" He asked softly. Cynthia lifted her arm off and smiled dreamily.

"Absolutely brilliant... God Harry, your hands are like... Like magic..."

Why Harry laughed so hard at that, Cynthia didn't know, but the usually morose and dark boy laughing and smiling so freely really got her motor running again, and this time Harry shagged her until she was fit to pass out.

"Ohhh... Y-You should, haaa... Go," she sighed, looking at the clock. "My parents'll be home soon..."

"Oh," Harry said, frowning. Cynthia smiled warmly.

"But... I think I'll need some more help with my garden, say... Saturday?"

Harry blinked in slight confusion, before he got her meaning and grinned.

"I... I'll be there."

"Good," Cynthia sighed.

"Well? Did you do what you were told, boy?" Petunia demanded when Harry got back. Harry smiled.

"Yep... Though apparently not enough... She wants me to come back on Saturday."

"Well, that's just what I'd expect from you. You will get back there and you will finish what you started, boy, until that nice girl is happy, understood?" Vernon ordered. At Dudley's smirk, Harry could do nothing but smile back.

"Understood, Uncle..."

"So, your twin daughters would like the boy to come over and help them with mowing the lawn?" Petunia asked with a raised eyebrow. Her gossip sense was tingling, but Ruth hadn't had anything on her nephew's activities at the various homes he was being invited to. She merely said he was being run ragged.

Well, if that was the case...

"Certainly Mary, dear... Oh, don't worry about his curfew. The less he's in this house, the better."

"You know Marilyn, you've been having that Potter boy over a lot," Anthony Piers Sr. commented as he watched TV in the den. His son sat nearby, boredly watching with his father with an identical expression.

Marylin Piers, an olive skinned beauty with short black hair cropped into a bob and kind eyes, resisted the urge to giggle.

"Well, he does do the chores I can't do very well..." She smirked. "Very well indeed... "

Piers Sr. frowned, and looked over at his son. "Why can't you have Junior handle them?"

"I've got my friends to hang out with," Piers said. "Tea parties, you know? Meeting girls?"

"Yes, Anthony should be out and about, seeing girls... Besides, Har-the Potter boy is very hard working, very strong... Why, he's handled all your chores for the month and then some in just a week!" Marlin gushed.

"Hmph! Serves the delinquent right, handling all that heavy lifting," Piers senior huffed.

"Oh yes... He definitely deserves all I can give him," Marylin said with a smug expression, her voice dipping an octave. "All that, and more..." She treated her family to a somewhat artificial smile.

"Unlike some people around here, right boys?" She asked in a tone that a more alert person might identify as bitter sarcasm.

"Uh huh Mum," Piers Jr. said.

"Of course dear," Piers Sr. responded. Both father and son stared at the telly. Marylin smiled.

"In fact, I think I'll have him take care of the laundry upstairs... I'll be watching the telly upstairs, you won't hear a thing...!"

"Sure Mum/dear, whatever," son and father replied in unison. Marylin sighed, shaking her head, before she picked up the phone.

Genetics... It was a bit of curse, but there was light in her life again! A light by the name of Harry Potter. He was her savior...

Dudley, or Big D as he was known, looked around at his gang buddies with a smirk.

"Gotta thank that freak for this..."

"Yeah!" Piers said with a smirk. "Whenever he comes around my mum practically throws me out of the house!"

"What're they making him do, Big D?" Another young thug asked.

Dudley snorted. "Looks like they got him working his arse off for them. He's always coming home exhausted, goes right to bed."

"My sister's had him over every day for the past week," another thug said. He shook his head. "Lazy tart, always wanting him to help her with lifting things..."

"Gotta say thought, ever since this started getting out and coming home been so much easier!" Piers enthused. "My mum's always so relaxed when I get home, she doesn't care if I'm late!"

"Guess the freak does come in handy," Dudley begrudgingly said. "Now c'mon, Joe'll have the good stuff today..."

The Vauxhall Astra in police livery pulled up to the curb, and a moment later PCSO Diane Carver of the Surrey Police emerged. She was a stern looking woman, with short black hair closely cropped to her neck. Her uniform did little to conceal an athletically fit and trim body. She marched up to the door of Number Four Privet drive, and rang the bell. A few moments later, Vernon Dursley opened the door.

"Can we help you, officer?" Vernon asked.

"Yes... I need to speak with a Harry Potter. He lives at these premises, does he not?" Officer Carver asked. Vernon's fat face gained a grin that threatened to split it apart.

"Oh yes! Yes! Just a moment... BOY! GET DOWN HERE!"

Harry soon arrived at the door, looking a bit confused. "Yes Uncle Vernon?"

"Mr. Potter?" Officer Carver said. Harry nodded. "Good. I'm Officer Carver, I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Is he under arrest?" Vernon asked with quite a bit of hope. Carver raised a prim and intimidating eyebrow at the man, which made him back off a bit.

"No, I merely wanted to question him. There are a few things about the neighborhood I was asked to look into by one of your neighbors, Mr. Dursley," she said, eyes narrowing slightly at Vernon. She looked over at Harry and her gaze softened a little.

"This is merely questioning, Mr. Potter, I assure you. You have been charged with no crimes whatsoever."

Harry looked at his relatives, and then at the policewoman. Few hours at the Dursleys, few hours at a police station.

"All right, let's go."

Not exactly a tough choice, he reflected, as he allowed himself to be led to Officer Carver's car. He sat in front, and Officer Carver started the Astra up, driving off.

"So, what's this about, Officer?" Harry asked. Carver glanced at Harry.

"Please wait until we arrive," she said. Harry nodded, and looked out the window as the buildings passed by. Eventually they stopped at a small house some block away. Harry looked over at the Officer in confusion.

"Step out of the car," Carver ordered. Harry obeyed, and waited by the car until Carver got out.

"Follow me," she said, and headed for the door. A bit confused, Harry nevertheless followed.


"It's my car," she answered, as though knowing what he was going to say.

"Yes ma'am," Harry said. Carver opened the door and entered the house. Harry followed.

"Go into the living room, please," Carver ordered. Harry nodded, and walked in. He froze when he heard the door shut and lock behind him. He turned around.

"Ah... Officer Carver, what's this all about...?" Harry asked.

The policewoman smiled at him, and pulled her hat off.

"This questioning is in regards to some... Remarks a Miss Ruth Tylor has been making at the local coffee shop, an establishment I often frequent," she said, taking a step towards him. Harry found himself taking a step back.

"Ah... Yes?"

"Regarding certain... Skills the nephew of one Vernon and Petunia Dursley at Number Four Privet Drive possesses," Carver continued, removing her gloves next. Her jacket slid off next, dropped carelessly on the floor as she stepped closer. Harry stepped back again.

"Um... Y-Yeah...?" Harry got out, feeling both extremely nervous and very, very aroused. Officer Carver unbuttoned her blouse, and then shook her shoulders, letting the garment slide off behind her as she pushed Harry further into the room.

"Regarding, what was it she said...?" The woman said aloud, undoing her belt and pushing her regulation skirt to the floor. She easily stepped out of it, along with her shoes. Now left in a bra, panties, and hose, she closed the distance between herself and Harry with a smile. Harry felt his back hit the wall, literally and figuratively as Officer Carver ran her finger over his chest.

"Oh yes... Your ability to shag her cross-eyed... Over and over and over again," Carver purred. "Your cooperation in this... Investigation would be most appreciated, Mr. Potter..."

Several hours of "investigation" later, Harry was laying in bed, once more, with an attractive woman curled up contentedly against him.

"Mmmm..." Diane nuzzled his cheek. Harry smiled and leaned his head against hers.

"So... How was that...?" Harry asked softly. Diane chuckled throatily.

"Mmhmhmhm... Beyond my expectations, Mr. Potter," she responded.

"... Might be a strange question, but... Why me?" Harry asked. Carver was silent for a moment, her fingers playing with his hair for a moment before responding.

"We all get lonely, Mr. Potter... You strike me as someone who knows this very well," she murmured. Harry turned his head to look her in the eyes. He smiled, a bit self-consciously.

"Yeah... I know, Officer," Harry said.

She smiled back. "Call me Diane while we're spooning, Harry."

"So... I only call you Officer during sex?" Harry asked with a small grin.

"That's right Mister," Diane murmured, kissing his lips playfully. She turned and stretched her arms over her head with closed eyes and a soft groan. She felt cold steel close around her wrists, and her eyes snapped open. She looked at her wrists, now bound by handcuffs. She looked over at Harry, who was grinning.

"Oh, you cheeky bastard," Carver said with a smirk.

"That's Mr. Potter during sex, Diane," Harry returned, using her bound wrists to pull her into another kiss.

Bright and early next morning, Vernon Dursley's doorbell rang. Grumbling a bit, he got up from the breakfast table and got to the door. To his great disappointment, his nephew was there with Officer Carver.

"So, nothing to the claims huh?" Vernon grunted, with great disappointment.

"There was... Quite a lot to them, but nothing that warrants any further action," Carver drawled. "However, I may need to question Mr. Potter in the future... We have a number of activities in this area. He could be of great use to us..."

Vernon harumphed. "Very well... Go on and get breakfast, you lazy brat, or you get nothing!"

"Yes Uncle Vernon," Harry replied with a small smile. He gave Carver a smile, which she returned, before he entered the house. He glanced out the kitchen window to watch her go... And shivered a little as she swung her handcuffs around on her fingers, quite deliberately.

Hermione Granger did not usually eavesdrop on people. She prided herself on her sense of discretion, she's wasn't some kind of nosy busybody like Parvati and Lavender.

However, when the name "Harry" came up in a conversation being held in the Grimmauld Place library, she couldn't help but stop to listen.

"I'm telling you Sirius, at this rate, your godson's going to kill himself," Tonks said. Hermione's eyes flew wide, and she pressed her ear against the door. Harry was in trouble?

"Well, he is at that age..." Sirius said. Hermione's jaw dropped. He sounded like he was trying not to laugh! Harry committing suicide was a source of amusement?

"He's going through three, four, sometimes five of them a day, Sirius," Tonks said. "I swear, he's like a machine!"

"Oh, so you've been peeping on him then?" Sirius teased, some pride in his voice.

"I-I have not!" Tonks sputtered. "I'm just doing my job!"

"And getting a little enjoyment out of it, hm?"

Tonks coughed. "Well... Maybe a little... I mean... Is that normal, Sirius? He's like... Like this!"

Sirius whistled. "Well... Considering the stress he's been under, it's not surprising he's been going off like this." He growled. "Dumbledore's policy's probably driving him crazy... And hey, there are few better ways of alleviating stress than this..."

"The amount of stress he's been relieving is bloody incredible," Tonks said in awe.


"... Maybe a little... Though I've heard he's kind of taken."

"By who? Hermione? Nah, she wouldn't be interested in him... Not quite mature enough for that, I'd expect," Sirius said.

Hermione bristled. Not mature enough? She wasn't the one letting Harry do something dangerous and-and thinking it was a good thing! Who knew what he could be doing!

She turned and stormed off to get her things. She knew enough of Harry's history to find where he lived, and she was going to help him, Dumbledore's orders be damned!

Jennifer and Gwendolyn Green really hated their names. Their mother, recent immigrant to the UK, had thought that having rhyming nicknames in English would be cute, and hence the Song sisters were known as Gwen and Jen.

Growing up half-South Korean in Surrey in the United Kingdom was not the easiest thing in the world, especially when you were both quite intelligent and were happy to prove it. They too had gone through primary school isolated and alone, but their attempts to befriend fellow outcasts, such as one Harry Potter, had been met by bullying and intimidation.

Still, that the little boy kept going through life despite the atrocious treatment of his relatives had been a bit of an inspiration to the two lonely girls. Mythological heroes who prevailed over their challenges were the bread and butter of Ben, and Jen simply couldn't tolerate injustice. Their father had gone to the police a number of times after their mother insisted he look into things, but he'd always come back without a memory of their request.

So, as the years went by, the Green sisters couldn't help but look at Harry Potter out of frustration... And then a different kind of frustration when he returned from that strange school of his at the age of 15. He seemed so alone, so broody and dark.

Jen, who had gotten into the emerging punk scene at secondary school, found his pain to be rather attractive, while Gwen just wanted to comfort him... Preferably with her body.

"I can't believe this," sighed Gwen as she stared wistfully out the bedroom window of Number 5 Privet Drive. "He's being worked out there... Shirtless... In this sweltering heat..." Her eyes glazed over a bit.

"Yeah..." Jen was looking herself over in the twins' full length mirror, tightening her largely black leather outfit's straps. "We need to get him away from there..."

"Like, calling the police?" Gwen asked. She huffed. "That never works..." She may have been the "good twin", but cynicism ran deep despite her more conventional appearance.

"No, I mean... Getting him over here," Jen emphasized. She turned around and grinned, running her hands through her short cut, spiky black hair. She thought the pink highlights would be nice and shocking-Her father certainly had disapproved, but his wife had seen to his attitude.

"Like... To...?" Gwen blushed furiously. "But-But-!"

"Oh come on Gwen! A boy like that... He's been at that terrible school for boys all year, after year..." Jen shook her head. "Maybe we can't get him out of his house, but we can certainly make it more pleasant to be here."

"But which of us...?" Gwen blinked. Jen grinned. Gwen blushed again... But looked thoughtful.

"Well... We do share everything," she said. "But this boy...?"

"Can you imagine something that would make him happier?" Jen asked. She snorted. "Trust me Gwen, twin girls are every man's wildest dream come true..."

"How do you know?" Gwen asked.

"I hear things..."

"So, you haven't-?"

"Of course not," Jen snorted. "But I know what to do..."

"Once we get him here," Gwen retorted. "How do we do that?"

Jen rested a hand on Gwen's shoulder, and pointed outside. Gwen stared as the woman at Number Eight Privet Drive, Mrs. Ayola, walked up and smiled at Harry across the fence.

"Every day he goes off to fix someone's something, or do a chore," Jen said. "And his relatives send him off because they seem to enjoy working him like an mule." She grinned. "We just need him over to... Fix something."

"Ohhh..." Gwen nodded enthusiastically. She then grinned as she looked over the furniture.

"I know just what needs to be fixed, too..."

"Hm? Yes, the boy knows how to fix wood... You say your daughters' chair and desk set seems to have fallen apart? Yes well, don't let your wife pick out the furniture next time, that's a man's job! ... All right, I'll send him over." Vernon hung up and looked over at his nephew with a scowl. The boy had been wearing funny little smiles over the past few weeks. He didn't know why-All this hard work should be breaking his spirit.

He'd even tried shouting "DOOM! DOOM! DOOM!" at him while he mowed the lawn, but nothing doing-He couldn't rattle the boy.

"Boy! Number Five wants you to fix some furniture," Vernon said. "Get over there! And don't use any of my tools!"

"Yes Uncle Vernon," Harry said, heading out the door. He was able to greet Mr. Green as he left for his job, and he then entered Number Five. He looked around.

"Ah... Hello?"

"Oh, hello Harry," a pretty girl with long black hair and blue eyes said. She was about his height, with an above-average bustline (for a girl her age) contained in a simple white T-Shirt, and worse a rather short skirt. She smiled warmly at him.

"Hello Harry," the girl's twin said, grinning cheerfully. She wore ankle-length boots with a myriad of straps, and her hair was short, spiky and had pink highlights. She wore fingerless gloves, a black tanktop, and a leather skirt.

"Don't you remember us?" The more conservatively dressed twin ask. "I'm Gwen."

"I'm Jenny," the short-haired twin said. "Primary school, remember?"

"Er, yeah," Harry said. "Vaguely..."

"Well, that's all right," Gwen said, taking Harry's arm. "We can catch up upstairs."

"Er, upstairs?" Harry asked. Jen took his other arm and grinned.

"Yeah... Our furniture kind of fell apart," Jen said.

"Might have been bouncing too hard on it," Gwen said with a blush.

"Bouncing?" Harry asked as he was led upstairs. He was acutely aware of how close the twin girls were, as they squeezed against him on either side.

"Oh yes... Same with our beds," Jen purred, her face incredibly close to his. "Why... Who knows how long until they break?"

"Structurally speaking, they seem sound," Gwen supplied as they entered the Twins' bedroom, "but we'd... Like to test them out before you fix anything else."

Harry looked at the window-The blinds were pulled down. The two girls hadn't let him go. There were no tools.

He had the sneaking suspicion that something that had been happening a lot lately was about to happen... But he would never assume anything.

"All right... Um... How do we test these beds then?" Harry asked carefully.

Jen smiled. "That's all right..."

The twins pushed him down onto the nearest bed. Gwen pulled back and pulled off her shirt.

"We'll show you how," Gwen added.

Harry smiled. That awful feeling that something terrible was just around the corner kept fading and fading away... At least in regards to his interactions with women.

Minerva McGonnagal was usually a very composed individual. But she came into the hospital wing at Hogwarts with a rather glazed expression to Pomphey's eyes. The nurse summoned up some "medical alcohol" from her cabinet-The best scotch she could find-and set it on her desk. McGonnagal sat down across from her old friend, who poured her a glass.

"Everything all right, Minnie?" Pomphrey asked. Minerva threw back her scotch, and gulped it down. She set her glass on the table and shook her head.

"I was keeping an eye on Potter today..."

"Oh Merlin Minnie," Pomphrey gasped. "Is-Is he all right? What happened?"

"He's... Fine," Minerva said. "He's been keeping busy... Very busy..."

"How?" Pomphrey prompted. The Transfiguration professor reached up and pushed her glasses up to rub her eyes.


McGonnagal sighed. "He's been getting out of the house of those dreadful people to do... Work for various neighbors in the nearby houses."

"Well, that's good," Pomphrey said approvingly. "The further he is from those people, the better! I cannot believe Albus continues to put him with those-those monsters! He had scurvy when he came to Hogwarts, did you know that? And evidence of a broken arm, malnutrition...!"

"He seems to have recovered nicely," Minerva mumbled. Pomphrey raised her eyebrows.


"... He's been shagging women in the neighborhood," Minerva said, as she poured herself another glass of scotch and downed it. Pomphrey's eyebrows went nearly to her hairline.

"Women? As in plural?"

"As in all of them, save his aunt and the elderly," Minerva clarified.

"You're sure?"

Minerva shot her friend a dirty look.

"Poppy, I've just spent the last four hours-four hours-watching my student be called in from house to house to do 'chores'. These chores consisted of shagging women up to three times his age over kitchen tables, schoolgirls home for vacation against walls, housewives on washing machines..." She shook her head and poured herself another shot-Only to find that Poppy had beat her to it and was gulping her own spirit down.

"Merlin... For hours?"

"He did a woman and her twin daughters for one... Non-stop..." She stared at Pomphrey. "Did you see... Anything like this?"

Pomphrey actually flushed. "Well... He's recovered very nicely from the malnutrition... Er, he's always going to be a bit small-"

"Not from what I saw," Minerva mumbled. Pomphrey coughed. Minerva stared at her.

"... Well, I am his healer for all intents and purposes," Pomphrey said. "And, well... Noting something like that isn't medically significant..." She scowled. "And I have treated thousands of students, I have nothing but a professional interest in the subject, it's just a note!"

"Yes... Just a note," Minerva mumbled. Pomphrey poured them both a glass, and both witches downed the liquor.

"... Bit of a shame," Pomphrey murmured.

"Poppy!" Minerva scolded. The nurse smirked.

"Really Minnie, you're not going to fool me with that act," she admonished.

"So? I have no interest aside from the..." Minerva thought about it. Pomphrey nodded sagely.

"Same here..."

"Yes, quite," said Minerva. "It wouldn't be professional."

"Not in the least," Pomphrey agreed. The nurse's smirk widened ever so slightly.

"Nothing wrong with a bit of speculation though. It's very healthy," Pomphrey said. Minerva snorted.

"We're a bit old to be doing that sort of speculation, Poppy."

"Hardly. Minerva, you're in your 70s and physically you're in your 40s, and I'm only a little younger than you. We're still in sexual prime thanks to our magic," Pomphrey pointed out.

"Gossiping about a student of ours is hardly mature though," Minerva pointed out. Pomphrey nodded.

"Yes, you're quite right... Should we fantasize about Severus then? I've always felt that with a good shower-"

At Minerva's glare Pomphrey smiled wickedly.

"Or there's always Filius, more than one Ravenclaw girl has come to me, asking for certain medical information on part-goblins..."

"Poppy, I'm warning you-!"

"Lockhart may have been a twit, but he was quite the looker wasn't he?" Pomphrey added. Minerva glared at her before she shook her head, stern gaze fading away into a chuckle. Pomphrey joined into the laughter.

"It doesn't help that he's gotten the best parts of his parents," Pomphrey said with a smile. "Lily's eyes, James' looks..."

"An intensity all his own," Minerva added with a sigh. She shook her head. "He's been turned into a weapon... He's dangerous..."

"It's little wonder girls flock to him, in this world or the Muggle one," Pomphrey sighed. "Magic or no magic, no girl can resist a powerful alpha male..."

"Let's hope he stays that way," Minerva said.


Minerva rolled her eyes. "You know Albus... If he thinks something isn't for the greater good, he'll find a way to bollocks it up."

"Indeed," Pomphrey said. "But enough about him... Care to perv over some medical photos of Mr. Potter like the lonely spinsters we are?"

"Poppy, how much have you been drinking?"

"Enough to consider that very thing before you got here."

"Fair enough. Lead on."

About an hour later, Harry left two exhausted sisters in one bed, as he slowly got to his feet. The goofy grin on his face just wouldn't leave, and he couldn't muster up the guilt to smother it.

He looked over the broken desk and chairs, and found (to his complete lack of surprise) that they were easily put back together by hand. All the same, he did it as well as he could-He owed Jen and Gwen that much for an hour in heaven. He even cleaned up the room before he slipped out.

He walked downstairs, only to see Mrs. Green waiting for him with a soft smile.

"Hello Harry," she said quietly. "How are my girls?"

"Ah... Fine," Harry said, a bit nervously. She nodded very slowly.

"Mmhm... You know Harry, there is some laundry in the basement I could use help with... You don't mind staying on for a bit longer, do you? I'll make you lunch," she said.

"Er, sure," Harry said. "Um... If that's what you want..."

"Oh yes," Mrs. Green nodded, taking Harry's arm and guiding him to the basement door. "Among... Other things..."

Harry tried very, very hard not to grin. It was so very, very hard. He didn't want to look like a chauvinistic pig or presume things... After all, how likely was it that the mother of a girl... Girls... He had just finished shagging for the last hour wanted to shag him too?

... Again?

"Here we go," Mrs. Green said as she approached the washing machine. Deftly, she stripped out of her attire and dropped it into the machine-All of it. Harry stared, stunned, as the beautiful woman turned to look at him with a smile. She was slimmer in build than her daughters, with a comparatively smaller bust. Her black hair was shoulder length, and arranged to obscure one half of her face, giving her a seductive look. She was slightly shorter than him, and her skin was creamy and smooth, and-Was that a tattoo?

"A little vanity, I'm afraid," she explained, rubbing the ink markings just above her mound. She smiled impishly.

"What... What does it mean?" Harry asked.

"'Best Temple,' roughly translated," she explained. Her eyes twinkled. "I have a very high opinion of my vagina, Harry... My husband, well... Does not." She looked away for a moment, and then back at Harry with a small grin.

"I would love a second opinion," she purred.

Harry's clothing soon joined hers in the washing machine, and Mrs. Green was soon on the floor, crying out in her native language as Harry dove right in.

Knowing Parselmouth seemed to come in handy in a LOT of situations-Not just talking to snakes...

After lunch, the twins woke up, and insisted Harry mow the lawn and take care of a few issues in the garage. Mrs. Green woke up after that, and had Harry deal with some cleaning in her bedroom. Finally, the twins finished up with Harry in the living room, and Mrs. Green gave him a very warm send off in the kitchen before he walked (slowly) back across the street to Number Four.

His relatives ignored him and he ignored them right back as he headed upstairs and collapsed on his bed.

"Preck?" Hedwig inquired from her cage. Harry looked up at her.

"Tired," he said.

"Preck preck?"

Harry sighed. "Sun-Yi... Jen and Gwen..."

Hedwig ruffled her feathers. "Prek prek!"

"I... I didn't mean for it to happen," Harry insisted. "It just kind of does..."

Hedwig gave him the owl equivalent of a scowl. Harry slowly pushed himself up and opened her cage. He then opened the window.

"Go on, before they hear you," Harry said. "And if you need to, head to Ron's-He'll take you in."

Worse came to worse, they could fly in and get him out again. Hedwig bit Harry's finger (a bit harder than usual) but hooted reassuringly and then headed out. Harry sighed and slumped down on the bed again.

Downstairs, he heard a knock at the door, and Uncle Vernon rose to answer it.

"What do you wa... Uh..." He heard Vernon start mumbling about something and slowly head back to the living room. A few moments later, his bedroom door opened. Harry looked back to see who it was, and was immediately treated to a strong hug.

"Oh Harry!" Hermione cried, the door slamming shut behind her. "I came here the second I heard about it-Are you all right? Are you okay?"

"H-Hermione?" Harry asked, stunned.

"Thank God, you're all right," Hermione went on. Her hands roamed his body, feeling him through his thin T-shirt. "Anything broken? Bruised? Cut?"

"Uh, well-"

"Now I know what you're thinking, Harry James Potter, and you should stop it right now," Hermione said sternly. "Cedric's death was not your fault-You couldn't have known-And beating yourself up about it or-or doing dangerous and reckless things to compensate for your guilt are wrong!"

Harry blinked, as Hermione, finished with her examination of his torso, pulled his wrists up to check them over.

"You're not cutting yourself..." She pushed his sleeves up to check his elbows. "No puncture marks..." She looked up at him. "You're not harming yourself intentionally?"

"Harming myself wha?" Harry tried, but Hermione rolled right past his question.

"Don't lie to me, Harry James Potter!" She said sternly. "Some of Dumbledore's people have been keeping an eye on you all summer!"

She leaned in close to sniff his face, and Harry's anger at Dumbledore keeping an eye on him and not telling him was sidetracked by the realization that Hermione was in his room, she was very physically close to him, and underneath those school robes she had a very nice pair of breasts. Not huge, just slightly larger than a handful he guessed, but very firm and round-looking and-No! Come on, this was Hermione, he shouldn't be thinking those kinds of things!

"They said you've been going through-through four or five a day! What have you been going through?" Hermione demanded. "You don't smell like you're smoking... Or drinking..." Her eyes widened. "You're not taking pills are you? Or-Or drinking cough syrup?"

Four or five a...? Oh. Ohhh...

"It's not what you think Hermione," Harry said quickly. Hermione's eyes radiated concern, compassion and fear on his behalf, but also a fair amount of warning. Harry found himself drawn to the gaze-She looked rather sexy right now, especially bent at the waist.

"Then what is it?" Hermione demanded.

Stall, stall, that was the ticket.

"Listen, it's nothing bad. I'm not hurting myself, honestly," Harry insisted. Hermione sat up, crossing her arms underneath her breasts.

"Then what is it?" She asked.

He was getting aroused, having a girl alone in his room like this. Too much sex with very willing women. Being in such intimate proximity with someone he found attractive was causing him to switch a bit to autopilot, as his eyes became intensely focused and he traced every part of his best friend.

God, how did I not notice this until now...? And people say Ron's the slow one...

Harry mentally shook his head and focused, instead, on ways of possibly diverting Hermione's attention and wrath.

"How did you find me anyway?" Harry asked.

"The phone book," Hermione said flatly. "I took the Knight Bus."

"What about your parents?" For that matter, why weren't the Dursleys running up to scream about her presence?

Hermione pulled out a pack of Post-It notes and showed them to him. "I made these last spring. Charmed them with Muggle-Repelling Charms. Stick them to a door or wave them in a Muggle's face and they'll forget what they were doing and go do something else. I stuck one on your door-Your relatives," she said with a look of extreme distaste, "won't bother us." She set them down on his desk.

Good, Harry thought, his eyes locked on her lips. He found himself wanting to know what they tasted like... And if her hair was kinky everywhere...

"So tell me Harry... What have you been doing?" Hermione asked, adjusting her arms unconsciously to push her breasts up a bit higher.

... Oh what the Hell, the Dursleys wouldn't bother him...

Hermione mistook Harry's hesitation for shame, and her gaze softened as she realized that maybe she was being too hard on her friend.

"Oh, Harry... I'm sorry I just barged in like this... Look, whatever it is, you can tell me..." She sat down on the bed next to him, and squeezed one of his hands comfortingly. "I would never judge you."

"Well," Harry began, turning his head and looking intently into her eyes. She blushed.

"Ah, yes...?"

Harry closed the distance between them, and kissed Hermione deeply. She froze, eyes wide.


Warmth spread throughout her body, and her eyes became half-lidded. Distantly, she found her arms going around his shoulders as he lowered her to the bed.

He broke the kiss, and Hermione tried to protest but he cut her off with another deep kiss, his hands caressing her cheeks... Then her neck, then...

"Oh-Oh my..."

Quite some time later, a happy Hermione cuddled up next to Harry, her head resting on his chest.

"Mmm," she sighed. She slowly looked up at him with a lazy smile. "This is..." She considered her words. "A change of pace," she decided on. Harry chuckled.


"Barely any interest in girls at school..." She kissed his nipple, enjoying the resulting sigh her made. "Is it because you're so... Busy here during the summer?" She teased softly.

Harry stroked her back, enjoying the purr she made. "No... This... This is all new," he said. "Moment I came back this year... Women were all over me..." He sighed. "No idea how..."

"Maybe the Dursleys sucked all the sex out of the neighborhood, and you brought it back," Hermione suggested with a small giggle. Harry made a face.

"Ugh... Far as I'm concerned, they adopted a pig and gave him a wig for their son."

Hermione giggled, and then looked up at Harry seriously. "Harry... About this...?"

Harry stared back. "Yes?" A sudden thought occurred, and he felt some fear. "Um... I mean... We're... We're still friends, right?"

Hermione laughed softly. "Of course we are," she confirmed. "This... This doesn't change that."

"Oh thank God," Harry sighed in relief. "I mean... Um... After all this... Ya know, sex... It's... It's kind of automatic now..."

"Remind me to keep an eye on you at school then," Hermione said. "Wouldn't want you going on autopilot around, say, Professor McGonnagal..."

Harry made a face. "Hermione...!" She giggled again, and Harry was suddenly struck by how relaxed his best friend was. Maybe this'll help her...?

"What I mean is... Well... After this..." Harry tried. Hermione looked intently at him.

"Do... Do we become girlfriend and boyfriend?" Harry asked. Hermione was thoughtful for a bit, before she smiled.

"Harry... I would like that, but... Well... There's no need to just, you know... Go into that." She kissed his chest. "Let's just... See what happens... All right?"

Harry nodded. Hermione sighed.

"You can still screw other women if you like."

"Oh... Um... I'd stop if you wanted me to," Harry added. Hermione nodded.

"I know... But you were scared of asking and I decided to help you relax," she said. She shook her head. "Honestly, what was Dumbledore thinking, wanting you to be alone this summer? All that stress you've been under, it's no wonder you started shagging every willing woman you could find!"

"It's not all bad," Harry said with a grin. Hermione smirked.

"Not in the least," she purred, as she scooted up to kiss him.

Below in the garden, underneath an invisibility cloak, Tonks pulled the Ominoculars away from her eyes and shivered.

Merlin... I don't care what Dumbledore says, I am getting myself some of that... Now, I just need a game plan for how to do it...

"Nymphadora…" began the wizened old wizard. He had just arrived at Grimmauld Place when the young witch asked to talk to him in private. She looked harried and flushed, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. He smiled at her in what he hoped was a reassuring way.

"I do not believe that Harry needs training. Indeed, most likely he just needs time to recover from seeing a fellow student killed in front of him. And he should be able to enjoy what is left of his childhood before worrying about anything. No, at this time it would be best that we just let him be."

"Professor…" his counterpart began slowly - she was utilizing whatever shreds of self control she had at this point not to deck the old man. Maybe her self control was strained because of the fact that she disagreed what the Order was doing to Harry and the outright dismissal by their leader was driving that point home. Maybe it was because he used her first name. Maybe it was because she just had to watch for two and a half hours as Harry shagged a pair of twin sisters, who actually had a bit of resemblance to her, if you squinted, into unconsciousness, followed shortly by their mother and then his best friend, voyeuristic self gratification simply paled in comparison, and the old coot Was. . Up! She had a good idea which one it was, but thinking about it didn't make it better - at all. She all but scripted this and this had to work. One more week of guard duty like this and she might be coming onto Sirius as well, not just Remus.

"I have seen the way his family has treated him, we all have." She held up her hand when the Headmaster made to interrupt. "No, let me finish! There's no point in arguing about the past, what's important is what happens now. Harry is a good guy - that he didn't eviscerate Fudge after his screw-ups with Sirius AND the Triwizard Tournament is proof of that. But he's been left alone since then - since he watched a friend die in front of him because he was too weak to save him. Or so he thinks. What happens when a powerful wizard like him, left to stew in anger and feeling depressed, decides that what he lacked was power, and maybe gets a taste for it?"

Seeing the man hesitate, she knew she had him. She almost grinned. Onward!

"He experienced a number of things men twice his age haven't, especially in his more recent past, and staying at and around Private Drive with the way things are might wear him out at some point. Everyone has a point of no return, where they can't keep on going the way they had, and while we might not have seen Harry's, it is there. I just want to be there so I am around before that happens, and maybe give him a hand, or two, and teach him how adults deal with pent-up emotions."

Dumbledore had closed his eyes, rubbing his eyes in a sad, collective fashion, completely unaware that the other occupant of the room was utilizing all her metamorph talents not to end up on the floor in stitches due to the purposefully applied doses of double entendre.

Oh, wait until I show Sirius this memory. This is too good.

The reply came after nearly a minute of silence. "You wish to teach him how to fight, I take it?"

"A bit, yes. But that's not the main point. I just want to make sure he invests his abilities in worth-while causes, things that pay off over time, you know." Things that keep giving and giving and.. "..and maybe teach him a few tricks he doesn't know, it's not like it'll hurt" in a bad way "..anybody."

He gave off a sigh, and, his eyes finally opening, gave a nod. "You are right, of course. Then, Nymphadora, you are in charge of Harry well-being. Please take care of him where this old man cannot."

Watching her all but skipping out of the room, he leaned back in his seat with a small smile. Watching someone so happy, nearly glowing from the chance to help a small child, proved just how much selfless good there still was in people.. proved that this fight was a fight worth fighting for.

Purple eyes looked over the heavily expanded backpack carefully.

A full change of clothes? As in 'one'? Check.

Fishnet suit? Check.

Stamina potions lifted from the Order HQ? After being worked up for two weeks during guard duty what would now follow will have at least one of them needing those. Check.

Enough preserved food and drinks to last two people for two weeks? Check.

Message to the DMLE that she was coming down with something big and might be back in a week? Check.

Ropes, blindfold, and an extra large invisibility cloak for any public events? Did say I was going to teach him a few tricks. Check.


She smiled outwardly. Inwardly she was laughing in a way that would have frightened Voldemort.

Now he was all hers! By the orders of one of the most powerful people on the planet, no less!

She absentmindedly reversed a few joints in her right arm and patted herself on the back. Tonks, girl, you're a genius.

One crack later, and she was gone.

Just a bit of crack based on Rorschach's Blot's "Odd Ideas" (Specifically Chapter 61: Loophole and Affairs) in the Omake entitled "The Ritual". I decided to just redo this whole thing because I jumped the gun on the first upload. So, hopefully this is better put together.

And again, should you want more, just ask.

And now, for an omake.

OMAKE: Snape Sneers

Severus Snape was not one to be late, no matter how much he might loathe the people at his destination. Or the destination itself. Or, well, everything.

Still, he had to admit, watching Black make a complete and utter fool of himself was always entertaining. Though the spy, naturally, wanted to know why.

"What is that fool doing now?" Snape asked flatly. Sirius was groaning and moaning, holding his head tightly as he staggered around the drawing room of Number 14 Grimmauld Place. Hestia Jones, Remus Lupin, and Emmeline Vance all watched him.

"He's been like this for an hour," Hestia said.

"Not sure what he's on about," Remus said, mentally rolling his eyes.

"Ohhh... Arggghhh... Godfather... Senses... TINGLING...!" Sirius gasped.

"What," Snape asked.

"My Godson... He's soooo... MANLY!" Sirius cried, throwing his hands up into the air. He glanced at Snape and his assorted observers. "Mm? You say something?"

Snape sneered, which was not unusual in of itself-He always sneered. However, he had a language of sneers (that he had published, as the Muggles would publish anything these days as serious literature) and right now his sneer said "Sirius Black, you and your pitiful godson are fools, and your godson is the farthest thing from a man anyone could possibly imagine. Furthermore, your reference to Ranma 1/2 is trite and cliche. You sir, fail."

Or he could have been hungry. The author is at a loss-He didn't get the teacher's edition of Snape Sneers after all and given his problems with foreign languages it was a foregone conclusion he wouldn't be good at it just after glancing through the book.

While the author cursed his learning deficiencies, Snape turned and stalked off dramatically, his cloak waving out with equal thespian weight.

"I can't believe you wasted an hour acting like an idiot and chewing scenery just to make a joke he wouldn't even get," Hestia shook her head. Sirius smirked.

"Oh no, he got it all right... Didn't he Remus?"

Remus checked his copy of Snape Sneers, and nodded. Hestia and Emmeline stared. The werewolf shrugged.

"I always like to keep up with my, er, colleagues various pursuits," Remus said. The two women continued to stare.

"Right... I'll just be over here," he said, turning and walking out of the drawing room. Both women looked over at Sirius.

"So, what was that all about anyway? Your godson I mean," Emmeline asked. Sirius grinned, and produced some photos Moody was all too happy to provide. How he did it, Sirius wasn't going to ask... Well, not right now anyway.

"I'm glad you asked... Take a look at these babies..."

Quite some time later, Hestia and Emmeline left the room. Hestia's red cheeks were brighter than usual, and Emmeline's eyes seemed to be stuck wide open.

Professor McGonnagal was passing by, and observed the two witches with a raised eyebrow. "Something wrong?"

"Er, nothing Minerva," Hestia said quickly.

"Just, you know... Things," Emmeline added. McGonnagal slowly nodded.


The two witches stared. McGonnagal smirked.

"I have been a teacher for quite some time, you know..."

That and she had noticed the photos sticking out of Hestia's robes, but she wasn't going to point that out.

"You... You know?" Emmeline asked. McGonnagal nodded, and sighed.

"Come with me... Poppy will have some scotch waiting for us... I suspect we'll need it..."

Thanks for reading! Please forgive the formatting issues, FF dot Net is rubbish.