This fic was inspired by AJT's That Boy Is Trouble, and SilverWolf7007's Dear Order. Both are amazingly funny stories, and this will probably pale in comparison, so I'd advise reading this first, so as not to be disappointed as a result of reading the better fics which inspired it. Also, fair warning, characters are OOC, but hopefully not overly so in most cases.
Disclaimer: I hate Deathly Hallows. The only good things about that book, are that it gives H/Hr shippers an exceptional plot device to push the two best friends together, and it gives Harry a rather obscure way to possibly hook up with female ghosts (Master of Death thing).
Also, Dumbledore isn't evil or manipulative, he's just old. He falls into one of the classic trappings of not realising that the way folks handled things back in his prime, might not exactly be the best way to deal with similar situations in the present.
Also, the first Austin Powers movie came out a year earlier in this than what it really did, and the us and uk releases were the same week rather than the original uk release.
The sex warning is for a small part near the end of July, and for sexual innuendo.
O_O passage of days where pov doesn't change
888888 passage of days where focus changes
888 passage of less than a day
Harry had been home from Hogwarts for a week, and already he was going stir crazy. Because of a certain group of Order members, his aunt, uncle, and cousin had been going out of their way to ignore him. While they didn't hamper him- and for the first time, he was eating properly while staying with them- neither did they deign to acknowledge his presence other than at meals. Even then, it was only to scowl in quiet contempt at his audacity to dare take a normal portion for himself.
He would admit there were some perks to the situation. As mentioned before, he was eating better this summer than he had all the previous years combined. There was also the fact that with the relative cease fire, and the lack of time and energy consuming chores, he was given the opportunity to do his homework right away, as opposed to doing it at the last minute at the Burrow. It had also given him ample time to think about Sirius. Come to terms with his death. Come to terms with his part in that death. Realize that while he did play a part, there were others who were just as much to blame for it. And while it had taken some time, he'd grieved, and moved on. Of course, nothing was ever that simple in Harry's life.
Those same boons were the actual cause of why he was feeling so mind numbingly bored out of his gourd.
The Dursleys avoiding him might have given him plenty of time to do his homework, but the problem with that was that incoming Sixth Years didn't have any summer homework to do. Until they received their OWL results, they wouldn't know what classes they qualified for, so there was really no point assigning homework to students who might not even be taking your classes the next year. Although now he thought about it, wouldn't it make more sense to assign the homework, and then tell the students who didn't plan to continue those classes not to bother with it?
In the same token, why did it take so long for the OWL results to come back? The examiners only had two years worth of students to grade, unlike the five the other professors did, and they had the grades for the students posted by the end of the first week of vacation. Not only that, but weren't they grading the practical exams as they went? That alone should have cut things at least in half since the only practical exam that couldn't be graded as it was being performed was the Astronomy exam. Then again, it was just another illogical thing about the magical world.
In earlier years, Harry would have been happy to have his list of chores cut down; this year, not so much. The lack of chores also meant that he had a lot of free time on his hands. The bad thing about that became apparent fairly quickly, as there was only so much you could do on Privet Drive, and only so many times you could do those things before they got old. Things had gotten so bad that he'd started volunteering to do chores, but his uncle was so spooked that he quickly sent him away, while peeking over his shoulder in a spike of paranoia.
As a result of the sheer amount of boredom he was experiencing, Harry did something that he'd have never considered away from Hogwarts: he revised. Of course, doing this without Hermione really brought home just how piss poor a student he'd been the past five years. Seriously, with a madman like Voldemort trying to kill you every year, one would think that the one on the receiving end of that attention would be learning and doing all they could to defend oneself. Not only that, but they'd be taking useful subjects like Ancient Runes, rather than Divination.
Well, it was better late than never he supposed.
Sadly, revision hadn't really helped him much. With the underage magic bans, he could do the theory work just fine, but he couldn't put his theory into practice without getting an owl from the Ministry. He was kind of regretting getting rid of those books he'd tossed. Given that he didn't plan to continue Divination or History, he'd donated those books to the library, and tossed Lockhart's collection and that useless Defense book Umbridge assigned into the garbage before leaving Hogwarts. Not that he'd have read them if he still had them, anyway. That just left him with five years of most of his core subject texts. To Harry's shock and horror, he finished with those a lot more quickly than he thought he would- especially since books like Potions and Herbology only used one book up through OWL year.
When he'd gotten around to reviewing his Potions book, Harry had actually been excited- thinking that maybe he'd have the chance to practise one of his subjects after all. That good mood was ruined when he then realized how bad an idea that was. For one, he was low on ingredients, so probably wouldn't even make it through the first few chapters. For two, regardless of the fact that they were ignoring him, he doubted that would last if he started brewing potions in the Dursley kitchen, and filling the house with the putrid fumes of many of the brews.
So desperate for something to do, Harry had actually sent in a letter to Flourish and Blotts to order the third through fifth year books for Arithmancy and Ancient Runes.
By the time he'd been there for over a week, the only thing he really had left to look forward to to break the monotony was writing to the Order. Sitting down at his desk, Harry pulled some parchment, ink, and a quill, and began to write.
The warm, breezy day found Hermione sitting beneath the apple tree at the Burrow, reading and revising while Ron and Ginny flew overhead, practicing for the Quidditch tryouts coming that fall. While she wasn't very much of a fan of the sport, she was a fan of her friends who played. Funny thing, despite her developing feelings for Ron- which actually surprised her when she first realised them- it was Harry who she enjoyed watching play the most, even if his daring playing style drove her absolutely spare. It had taken her years to figure out why that was, until she realised how happy he looked flying around the pitch. Harry being unrestrainedly happy, his truly pleased smile- which had been coming less frequently since Halloween of their fourth year- was what she enjoyed seeing.
Still, she glanced up from her notes every now and then to watch the two redheads: Ginny darting around trying to score, while Ron manned the hoops trying to stop her. She had to smile at the speeding witch. Ginny really was a gifted flyer, proven when she'd taken over for Harry as Seeker the year before, but she was an amazing Chaser. Ron was getting such a workout from their practices that if he didn't get leaps and bounds better, she'd eat her shoe.
Just as she was about to go back to her revisions, she heard the familiar bark of a certain Snowy Owl. Turning her head, she could see that it was indeed Hedwig, and that the white avian had indeed gotten Ron and Ginny's attention too. She smiled, knowing that it was Harry's letter to the Order, and began packing up to head back to the house and see what he had written. To her shock, Hedwig banked left towards her, and started a descent into a landing. Raising her arms, she was surprised when the owl landed on her forearm with nary a scratch caused, shimmied up to her shoulder, and rubbed against her cheek in a sign of affection she'd only ever displayed for Harry, before holding out the leg with the rolled up scroll attached.
Almost as soon as the two redheads landed, Hedwig took flight, landed on Ginny's shoulder, and proceeded to rub against her cheek as well. Figuring that since it had been sent to her, it would be okay to read it, Hermione did just that.
You asked me to write you every few days, so here it is. I'm not doing anything right now, and haven't been for almost a week. Thanks to your warning, the Dursleys are avoiding me. The only problem with this is that I was kind of counting on their chores to help me through the summer boredom that is Privet Drive. I've already read through my texts- all five years in every subject- and reviewed my notes.
Ron, I know this may seem barmy, but Hermione was right. Actually studying early, and having time to fully process what you're reading makes you understand things a whole lot better than putting it off, and not having that time. Now I can just imagine the look of horror when you hear this, but I actually got so bored that I owl ordered the Arithmancy and Ancient Runes textbooks.
While the Arithmancy was as dry and boring as Slinkhard's book, Runes is actually a fun subject from what I've read so far. I know you're shaking your head, but figuring out the kinds of mischief that you can get into without getting caught from leaving a magical signature is brill, even moreso than making up predictions of your own death in the most overly dramatic and unbelievable ways possible like we used to do for Divination homework. Speaking of, since I'll probably be dropping the class, you can have all of my death notes, and I'll still be happy to help you fake your own for class.
If it's not too much trouble, Hermione, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind sending me a copy of your Runes notes?
By the way, I got your letter, and I'm wondering what are you doing at the Burrow so early? I thought you were spending the summer with your parents.
Ps. In case you're curious, yes Hermione, I did ask Hedwig to give you and Ginny a hug from me. I didn't send Ron one because I didn't think he'd want a hug from a bloke, even if it's being delivered by a gorgeous bird. Though if I'm wrong, let me know, and I'll make sure Hedwig has one for him as well next time.
Hermione smiled at Harry's letter, glad that he was finally taking her advice. She had to hold back a laugh as Ron reacted just as Harry predicted he would.
"He's right though, Ron." Hermione chided. "If you worked on your homework before, rather than waiting until the last minute, you could spend a bit more time on trying to actually understand what you're reading, rather than having to speed though it in a hurry to finish your essays."
Much to her surprise, he didn't react at all like she suspected he would; never knowing that actually speaking to him, rather than bossily lecturing at him had had a bigger effect on whether or not he tuned her out. Deciding that since Harry had actually vouched for it, he may as well give it a try, Ron did just that. She couldn't help but blush- and she noticed Ginny did too- at Harry's post script, though they did get a laugh at Ron's reaction.
The two redheads went back to their practice, while Hermione headed back into the house, and delivered the letter to Mrs. Weasley. She then headed up stairs; but not before asking the woman to make a copy of the letter for her so they could write him back. Once she'd gotten her copy, she hurried up the stairs, just as the floo turned green, and Dumbledore stepped out.
Upstairs, Hermione had just pulled out her supplies to reply to Harry's letter, when she was interrupted.
"Miss Granger, I must implore you to cease communication with Mr. Potter." Dumbledore said, appearing in the doorway. "If any of those letters fell into the wrong hands, it would be disastrous."
"With all due respect, sir, I highly doubt anyone would be able to get any information about the Order from our letters. Not to mention I followed your instructions last year, and that severely fractured my friendship with Harry, and while he forgave us, it took almost until Halloween before things were back to normal, and I'm fairly certain that a common enemy in Madam Umbridge was the cause. I don't want to go through that again. Besides, after losing Sirius, Harry doesn't need to be isolated like he was last year."
"Please Miss Granger, consider my words carefully." Dumbledore tried again. "It is very important that you not place Harry or the Weasleys in such danger. You don't want to do that, do you?"
"No sir, I don't." Hermione replied, realizing that this was one of those arguments that wasn't going to amount to anything.
A bit of passively reading her surface thoughts told Dumbledore that she truly did believe his caution. Too bad he didn't hold it longer, as he'd have found out how senile she thought he might be becoming. While she would never want to be responsible for Harry being in danger, it was highly unlikely that the letters they'd been exchanging would be of any value to Voldemort. She didn't know why the headmaster wanted Harry isolated, but after seeing how Harry was last year a summer after Cedric's death, she knew without a doubt that isolating him after Sirius was a big mistake.
A half an hour later, Hedwig was winging off to Little Whinging with a bundle for Harry.
The morning of July 5, Harry woke to the sound of...well, nothing really. It was mind jarringly quiet on Privet Drive, because by the time he woke in the mornings- usually between 9 and 10, sleeping later because he didn't have to make breakfast anymore- all of the morning commotion of residents heading to work had already come and gone by 8, and the nosy housewives wouldn't start nosing about for at least another hour or so. Sitting up in the bed as he grabbed his glasses and put them on, he saw that Hedwig had returned from her delivery, and that she not only had a reply, but a bundle for him as well.
Harry grinned, hoping that was what he thought it was. "Hey Hedwig, good delivery?" The bark he received in reply brought another smile to his face. He wasn't sure about other owls, but Hedwig was almost human in her intelligence and understanding, and if he were honest, she also acted just a bit smug about it too. Climbing out of the bed, he ambled his way to the desk, and pulled the bundle free, allowing his friend to go and do her own thing for the time being. He was momentarily startled when she climbed up his shoulder, and snuggled against his cheek for several moments, before taking flight, retreating to her perch to rest.
Opening the letter that was on top of the package, and noticing that it was again much shorter than normal, he read.
Oh, I'm so proud of you. I always knew that you were much smarter than you allowed yourself to be. I'm very happy that you're taking your studies more seriously, but I'm kind of saddened that it was boredom that brought on this magnificent change. Yes, Ron was decidedly horrified, but after having it explained to him, and being challenged to try it for himself, he had to admit- even if grudgingly- that I was right. While it didn't happen until he and Ginny didn't have enough energy to continue their Chaser-Keeper drills, he did at least make an effort. Thank you for that, because I know he'd have just ignored me again without you vouching for it.
Of course you can use my notes- which you will notice I sent with Hedwig- but I must warn you, you will not be using my third favorite subject- after Arithmancy and Transfiguration, of course- for mischief, Harry Potter.
Ginny wanted me to mention that she thanks you for the hug- as do I- and to let you know that Hedwig sends our love back to you. Ron didn't send you a hug, but he was in agreement that we all miss you.
Now, as glad as I am to hear about all of this, I want to know how you're doing, Harry. I admit that I'm worried about you, and I just know being with your relatives can't be good for you after last year. I'm here for you if you ever want to talk.
P.s. I'm here because my parents decided to take a second honeymoon, with the specific intent of making me a big sister. Before you say anything, yes I already noticed that this letter is several times shorter than my normal books to you are, but that's because we're keeping in more frequent contact, so there's not as much to tell you as opposed to the one or two letters we usually exchange where I've got so much to share.
Harry smiled at Hermione's note. He was happy to be receiving mail from at least one of his friends. Of the three staying at the Burrow, though, Hermione was the least likely to be intimidated into not writing by Molly. While he understood their plight, and was glad that they were at least sending messages through Hermione, he'd have liked a letter from them. With a frown on his face, Harry turned to the short note with flowing script that had been delivered by Fawkes the day before. He had no doubt he knew why they weren't writing.
He didn't quite understand what Dumbledore's problem with him writing with Hermione and the Weasleys was. Everyone in the Ministry- which Voldemort had obviously infiltrated- knew where the Weasleys lived. Dumbledore's blood wards supposedly protected him from Death Eaters and Voldemort. Not to mention, there really wasn't anything that anyone could really get from intercepting the mail he and Hermione were exchanging that wasn't already common knowledge. So what was the bloody problem with he and Hermione keeping in contact? Was the old man trying to purposefully keep him isolated for some reason?
Glaring at the note, Harry ignored it in favor or pulling out writing supplies, and replying to Hermione's letter. Anything that would break the boring monotony of his current stay at Privet Drive was a welcome distraction.
Hermione was in the room she shared with Ginny when Hedwig flew into the window. There was an Order meeting going on in the kitchen downstairs, so naturally, she, Ron, and Ginny had been shooed off. Ron and Ginny had chosen to go outside and practice Quidditch some more, but it was just a bit too warm outside for her, so she'd decided to just read indoors. Not really feeling like schoolwork, she'd taken to reading one of Ginny's old Boy-Who-Lived books, and found herself rolling her eyes every few pages. If Harry were to ever read one of these, he'd likely be horrified at what children grew up believing about him.
She did find it a bit ironic that in the five years she'd known him, he'd done something heroic that either matched or surpassed the heroics portrayed in the books. Hermione couldn't help but feel sorry for all of the Boy-Who-Lived fangirls- though admittedly not very much- because none of them would ever have a chance with the real Harry due to certain expectations garnered from books like this. It was a shame, really, because in her humble opinion, the real Harry was far and away the better catch. Quite happy for the distraction from the mind rotting novel, she retrieved the letter from Hedwig, opened it, and began to read.
First off, TMI about your parents, although I can admit to hoping they succeed. You've been the closest thing to a big sister I've ever had, and you've done a swell job of it, so your little sibling would certainly be lucky. Before you say anything- well, maybe not before at this point- I wasn't going to say anything about the length of your letter, honest.
Now, as to your question of how I'm really doing, to be perfectly honest, I'm decidedly traumatized. I woke up this morning after having an extremely raunchy dream involving you, myself, a distinct lack of clothing, and a whipped cream bikini. Now please don't take this the wrong way, as it's nothing personal against you. Honestly, I find you to be quite pretty, but just the concept of thinking of someone that way who I'm not romantically involved with, and who I care so much about, felt decidedly wrong; guilt inducing even. Though in all honesty, under different circumstances, I probably would have enjoyed that dream, and I seriously hope that I can face you without feeling guilty next we meet.
What makes it so bad, is that everything that reminds me of you brings that image of you covered in whipcream, writhing and gyrating, to my mind, and I react. Haha, just kidding, I can just see the blushing, scandalized frown on your face. While I'll admit that I find you very pretty, and I did have a dream about you, it wasn't nearly as raunchy as that. I was actually having a dream about your wedding day, odd as that may seem. Couldn't tell you who the bloke you were marrying was, as all the faces were blurred except yours and I was kind of like a ghost in the back of the room; but I do know that Ron and I were part of the wedding, since I heard your dad mention to you that we clean up surprisingly well. I will say that you made a lovely bride, though.
By the way, I received a letter from Dumbledore yesterday telling me something rather odd. He seems to think that me writing to the Order is a good thing, but that writing to you is risky. HUH?! According to Dumbledore's note, aren't you in the same place that the Order's Headquarters currently is?
Given how Dumbledore responded to our other letters, and my plans to write this letter, I'm guessing he disapproves. If I don't receive a reply from you, I will assume that you've been banned from writing me again, and that he's done something that makes it impossible for us to receive letters from each other. Do me a favor, and tell him and the Order that should this come to pass, I will be very belligerent and uncooperative with their leader when I finally do get out of here.
Anyway, thanks for the notes, and it's great hearing from you.
P.s. As for how I'm really feeling...I'm dying here, Hermione. Send help, preferably a few dragons. I'm sure Charlie can borrow a couple.
Hermione smiled as she read Harry's latest letter. If she didn't know better, she would have suspected that Harry was trying to flirt with her. She knew her face had turned even redder than Ron was prone to when she read that section about the whip cream bikini, and she felt flattered by both the compliment, and his 'reason' for feeling so bad about the dream. She'd be lying though, if she tried to say she didn't like the thought of modeling a whip cream bikini for the man she loved. In all honestly, while she was just a bit scandalized that he'd actually put it in a letter, and she had blushed, it wasn't so bad that she'd frown. He was just being silly after all.
What did cause her to frown, was the fact that Dumbledore had written to Harry urging them to cease contact. Harry made a very good point about the temporary headquarters being the Burrow, and the letters to the Order. If that wasn't considered a risk, then why was her writing to him, and Harry writing her a risk?
What she couldn't figure out was why he wanted Harry isolated so badly. Did he have some kind of plan for Harry that involved Harry feeling sad and alone? It was very suspicious, and it was even more disconcerting. While Snape, the Ministry, and Umbridge had gone a long way in ending her blind trust in authority figures, what Dumbledore was doing to Harry was starting to make her lose faith in them almost completely. It stunk even more, because it was professor Dumbledore this time who was proving Harry right about being unable to truly trust authority.
Still, she was always happy to hear from him, even if she was just a bit worried about his post script. She was glad though, that he was at least admitting to it, instead of just saying that he was fine. Just as she was about to start on a reply, a voice sounded behind her.
"Ah, I see that Hedwig has arrived, though I will admit she's a couple days early." Dumbledore said. "If you would kindly pass me that note, I will take it down to the meeting."
"The letter's not for the Order, sir, it's for me." Hermione replied.
"I see. I was hoping that Harry, and you especially, would listen to reason, but it would seem that I overestimated you." Dumbledore said suddenly, but to his utter shock, his disappointment in the young witch didn't even seem to faze her. Sighing, he left the house, and began casting wards over the property. By the time he was finished, the only letters that could be sent and received by Hedwig to the Burrow were the ones addressed to the Order. All others would be redirected to an adult Order member nearby.
While he didn't want to isolate Harry, and he wasn't even opposed to Harry receiving letters from his friends, the frequency of the letters between the two of them worried him. It wouldn't take much for a clever Death Eater- and despite all the evidence to the contrary, Voldemort did have a few- to notice the owl, and to follow it; either to Privet Drive, or to the Burrow. While he was sure that the wards at Harry's home would protect against Tom's forces, having taken Harry's blood, he wasn't completely convinced if Voldemort himself came calling. That was why it was imperative that Harry not do anything to alert Tom to his location.
A few days later, Harry sat at his desk- in actuality an old table with a comfortable chair he'd been forced to purchase for himself through Moony- waiting for a letter from his best friend. Sure it had only been a couple of days, and it was entirely possible that she'd been busy, but the boredom was getting to him again. Shrugging, Harry settled in to write the customary letter to the Order.
I'm fine for the time being, but please for the love of all things holy, get me the bloody hell out of here.
After nearly a week with no reply from Hermione, Harry began getting suspicious. He and Hermione had been writing to each other just about every other day, even if the letters were mostly nonsense stuff. The fact that he hadn't heard from Hermione in several days stunk of senile old man interference. Deciding to make sure that it wasn't just because of something silly, Harry sent another letter to Hermione this time writing out a list of everything that he thought Dumbledore might be suffering from in his old age: from senility to incontinence to impotency.
While tying the letter to Hedwig, Harry gave her the very explicit instruction not to let anyone but Hermione take it from her. He even gave her permission to make their displeasure of stealing mail known in any way she chose. Two days later, Hedwig returned with the unopened letter, and ruffled feathers. Whoever had upset Hedwig had tried to capture her, and take his letter, so that meant somewhat friendlies. Had it been a Death Eaters, they wouldn't have bothere with capture, they would have just killed Hedwig and took the letter, or at least attempted to. Hedwig was as speedy as a fly, and particularly vicious when she wanted to be. Either way, she wouldn't be ruffled if that were the case, so it still pointed towards friendly interference. That meant that while Hermione was at least still safe, the Order was tampering with his mail.
Removing the letter from his familiar, Harry asked. "Did you get whomever tried to take it?" The smug feelings he got from her made him grin. "Good on you, girl."
As she took off out the window, Harry wondered how he might get even with the Order for being a nuisance to him, rather than making themselves useful against Voldemort. Maybe it was time to start thinking more; maybe engage his Slytherin side. After all, the hat had said he'd fit there. After a half an hour of thinking, an idea popped into his head, but it was still missing something. By the time he went to bed that night, Harry was grinning widely. A call to Dobby, and a bit of devious magic later, left Harry ready to enact his prank.
The next morning, Harry addressed his final letter to the Order of the Phoenix. Inside was his warning shot in a likely one sided prank war. His dad and Sirus would have been proud, and Fred and George would probably congratulate him for it.
A light rain descended on Devon one evening in mid July. An evening that found the Burrow's kitchen nearly bursting with wizards and witches of all ages- well, all ages above seventeen, anyway. The order had assembled for another of its club meetings. The main reason for the meeting was that Harry was due to send another note, though several members complained to themselves about whether it was necessary to convene the entire Order for such an endeavor. While no one was willing to say it, they were all hoping for someone to have some kind of news so that it wouldn't be a wasted amount of time waiting on the letter from Potter.
Luckily for them, both Kingsley and Remus had news. They were also in a bit of luck that just as Remus was wrapping up his report on the werewolf clans in Ireland- those who'd chosen to migrate away from the coming civil war, rather than pick a side, knowing that either way they chose, it was a thankless group that they would be fighting for- that Hedwig flew into the kitchen window. After cirling the room, she landed on the table in front of Dumbledore. Upon relieving the beautiful white owl of her burden, the headmaster of Hogwarts was forced to stifle a shocked gasp when she gave him what amounted to the avian version of the finger, before taking off, and flying out the way she came in.
Not even his worst scowl of disapproval could stifle the snickers and snorts of laughter from the twins, their eldest brother and his fiance, a certain changeling, and the marauder she hoped to coerce into the sac with her. Opening the note, he found the parchment to be blank. Thinking that Harry had somehow cleverly disguised his writing, probably with invisible ink from Zonkos, Dumbledore tapped the parchment, and cast a revealing spell. To his amusement, writing appeared.
"Well, what does he say?" A voice asked.
Smiling, Dumbledore cleared his throat, and read. "The Legacy Marauder suggests that Greybeard the Pirate give this letter to Mr. Moony, and ask him to say the password. You wouldn't happen to know what he's talking about, would you, Remus?"
"You mean to tell us-"
"-that we were in the presence of greatness-"
"-and no one thought to tell us?!" Fred and George were beside themselves in annoyance, but were quickly shushed by their mother.
Taking the sheet from Dumbledore, Remus pressed his wand to the parchment, and started. "I solemnly swear-" He paused when more writing appeared, and he couldn't help the chuckle that erupted. Once he'd calmed himself, he continued. "I solemnly swear...that Harry Potter is a sexy bitch."
And with that statement, even more writing began to appear on parchment as everyone reacted to the 'password'. Reading what was on the page, he couldn't help but burst into a howling laughter.
"If you would care to share with the rest of us, we'd be grateful." Dumbledore said.
"Congratulations, you've finally succeeding in unlocking the instructions to get to the letter." He started. "To actually read the contents of this letter, you'll need a person whose still subject to the Underage Magic Laws to perform the password."
Dumbledore gave a deep, frustrated sigh, much to the amusement of several others. "Remus, would you please fetch Harry's friends?"
"But Headmaster, they're too young to-"
"It's only for the letter, Molly, as it seems they're the only ones capable of reading it." Arthur said. "I'm sure that he won't have them doing anything dangerous."
"Oh yes, because they've never been in dangerous situations before." A voice- that surprisingly belonged to Snape- sneered in their defense. Everyone of course decided to ignore the comment, since they didn't want to admit that the children had clocked more battle and evil fighting time than most of them had. It was especially so in Molly's case, since her youngest two children had fought in more battles against Death Eaters than she had; and they'd only been in one.
A few minutes later, Remus returned with Hermione, Ron, and Ginny. As soon as they hit the bottom of the steps, Ron immediately asked. "What's going on?"
While Hermione had been tempted to ask the same question Ron had, upon seeing the note on the table, she already had an idea what they were there for. The Headmaster's answer that their help was needed only confirmed things.
Instead, she chose a different question. "So what does Harry have to say that you can't understand?"
"What makes you think this has to do with Harry?" Hestia asked.
"Considering how insistent you've been on keeping us in the dark, even after that proved to be a mistake?" She started dryly, earning a couple winces. "With the three of us actually being included in this meeting, it obviously involves Harry, and something he's said or done that only we know him well enough to interpret."
"They don't call her the brightest witch of her age for nothing." Fred said, smirking.
"Though, when you're friends with our brother and Mr. Danger is my Middle Name, you kind of have to be." George replied.
"Too true, brother mine."
When the Order finally got around to revealing what had happened so far, Hermione had to resist rolling her eyes. While it wasn't how she'd expected him to do so, she was glad that Harry was once again acting like a normal teenager, even if he was doing the whole rebellious teenager thing. Still, she couldn't believe that Harry was quoting Austin Powers; and she would never, even on pain of death admit that she had seen and somewhat enjoyed the movie. Sure it had been funny when her 4 year old cousin had declared himself a sexy bitch, but her nana's mild heart attack as a result of the declaration was significantly less funny. She also found herself curious as to when and how Harry had gotten away to see it.
"So we just have to press our wand to the letter, and say the password?" Ron asked. "Sounds simple enough."
Ginny, who was closest to the note, pressed her wand to the note, then blushed and gasped at what appeared. "Are you sure?" When she was coaxed into moving things along, she shrugged, and said loudly. "I am a sexy bitch!"
"Ginevra Molly Weasley!" Molly exclaimed after hearing her daughter vulgar declaration.
"But that's what it says, mum!" Ginny complained. "And you told me to do it."
"Molly, it really did say that, and remember it was almost the same one Remus used." Arthur said, placing a hand on his wife's shoulder. "Though I can't read what it's saying now.
As this was happening, Ginny looked down at the parchment as more words began appearing. In Harry's messy print, she found the following statement.
I'm sure you are Gin, but sadly for the Order, you're not the designated messenger.
"What does Harry say?" Dumbledore asked, curious at her response.
"Um, he says that I'm not the person you need." With that, she turned, and headed up the stairs. Ron and Hermione, who could both surprisingly read what was written gave amused reactions, having seen the deepening red of the retreating teen's face. Seeing that this was a rather interesting prank that he seemed to be in on, rather than the butt of, Ron went next. Molly's face turned red when her son declared himself a sexy bitch too, but her husband's hand rubbing her back, as well as the fact that it seemed to be the password Harry had chosen, calmed her enough that she just huffed in annoyance. She would be having words with that young man about his language.
Snickering to himself for getting away with foul language in front of both Hermione and his mum, Ron read his message aloud.
"Harry says that he wouldn't know personally, since I'm not his type, but he's sure there's someone out there who'll agree that I am."
"Is that all?"
"Oh, and I'm not the 'Chosen One'." Ron quoted, snickering, and causing Hermione to roll her eyes, the urge growing to powerful for her self-control to prevent any longer. Leave it to Harry to make fun of his new nickname.
Severus Snape, who was lurking in the shadows, was not amused. "I can't believe you're pandering to that arrogant little brat. There's obviously no note, he's just wasting our time, so why are we even bothering with this?"
Ignoring the Potions master, like everyone else tended to do during meetings unless he had something viable to say, Dumbledore turned to Hermione, and declared in an unnecessarily dramatic manner. "I guess that means Miss Granger is our only hope."
Heaving a great sigh at being forced to use foul language, and mentally reminding herself to express her displeasure to Harry later, Hermione placed her wand against the note. In a fairly accurate impersonation of Austin Powers, that was sadly- and unsurprisingly, completely- lost on the rest of the room, she said. "I am a sexy bitch."
To her amusement, the words that appeared confirmed she'd done right.
Congratulations, you have given the proper password. Oh, and between us, yes, you most certainly are.
Seconds later, those words- which had gotten a blush from her- disappeared, and Harry's messy scrawl began to race across the page as his actual letter appeared. Not sure whether they would be able to read it if they took it away, Dumbledore insisted that Hermione read the note.
I noticed that I haven't received a letter from Hermione in over a week. This can only mean that we've been restricted contact. I know this, because I asked Hedwig not to allow anyone but Hermione to take my last letter, and she returned it unopened.
I will not hold this against you unless I find that you were a part of Dumbledore's decision. After a rather interesting conversation with my aunt, in which she expressed surprise that I hadn't started going through a rebellious teenager phase, I've decided to do just that. As a result, just to be an arse, I'm having Hedwig deliver every letter from here on out to Hermione, with instructions to attack anyone else who tries to take it. I've also asked Dobby to charm all of my parchment so that only Hermione can read it; so even if you do force Hedwig to hand it over, you still won't be able to read it. Although good luck with that, as my Hedwig is pretty hardcore.
Ginny, Ron, I appreciate the well wishes you sent in Hermione's letters, and wasn't overly bothered by you not writing me yourselves. If Dumbledore said not to, then your mum was going to ensure that you didn't, and we both know how intimidated you are of her. It's just too bad that she places so much stock in a senile old bat whose not only losing touch with reality, but who seems to have started believing his own hype, and can't see that just because he's reached geriatric status doesn't mean he's so much wiser than others that he can ignore everyone's opinions in favor of his own.
By the way, I think my aunt's been molesting me in my sleep, because I found a pair of her panties on my floor, and I've suddenly contracted a case of crabs. Well, gotta go, I've got a doctor's appointment to get my situation looked at. I'll write later.
P.s. I'm still physically and mentally fit...or at least as sane as someone whose stuck here could be.
Dumbledore's assurances that Harry would be fine, and that he was just lashing out failed to reassure some members who were starting to think that maybe they should go get Harry. Even more unbelievable, especially in light of what Miss Granger had told them, was Dumbledore being convinced that Harry's threat was mostly empty, as Dobby was in his employ, and wouldn't have disobeyed his orders. He was seriously underestimating Dobby's devotion to Harry.
When the three days passed, and there was no letter, certain members of the Order started getting nervous. Dumbledore, however, was unfazed, and was sure that Harry was either throwing a tantrum, or trying to send a message.
When a week passed without a letter, that nervousness had turned to uncertainty. While certain members either didn't care, or were mostly agitated that a child wasn't doing as they were told, those that really knew Harry weren't at all surprised. Finally, when the meeting broke up with nothing from Harry, Dumbledore agreed to allow a small group- consisting of Moody, Remus, Tonks, and Kingsley- to check on him. They'd been chosen specifically for their having the greatest ability to blend in with Muggles, as opposed to some other members who were just...just no. While he'd have liked to send Severus as an extra insurance, the less time the two had to spend together over the summer, the happier both would be. Considering how connected they were by a rather wonderful redhead he'd had the distinct pleasure to know, one would think those two would have at least tried to get along for her sake.
The next evening, the four man Order team descended upon Privet Drive ready for a fight...only to find they'd overreacted, and that Dumbledore had grossly underestimated the young wizard he was so obsessed with. Upon arriving at the door, and knocking, they were forced to wait several moments before the door actually opened.
Now Vernon Dursley was a disgruntled, overweight, bigot on the best of days. Having just returned home from a very long, and very frustrating day, only to find that not only was his dinner cold because he'd been so late, not only had his son greedily taken the largest steak for himself, not only had he had to wait an entire five minutes before he could eat his reheating dinner- which wouldn't be half as good as if it hadn't required reheating in the microwave- but now someone was at the bloody door making him have to postpone his meal even longer. Whoever it was better be damn important, because if he had to reheat his dinner a third time, ruining the food even further, heads were going to roll.
Snatching the door open, Vernon was greeted with the sight of three men and a young woman standing there. He was about to yell and curse before his eyes landed on a very familiar, very freakish eye. It was seeing that eye that led him to recognizing who his visitors were, and he wasn't happy at all.
"What the bloody, buggering hell do you freaks want?" He growled, his voice dripping with offense, as he tried to keep his temper in check like his doctor had instructed him- as his risk for heart attack, stroke, and aneurysm were quite high- and his stress levels weren't helping. "I did what you wanted after you threatened me. We haven't bothered the boy at all this summer. We've left him alone just like you people wanted, and even took him off his chores. He's even been sending those bloody letters. I know, because I personally saw the boy do it three days ago."
Unfortunately for Vernon, Moody was a paranoid bastard, and with a glare, growled. "I'd like to believe you, but I don't like or trust you, so you'll have to forgive me if I'm not inclined to take your word. Now we're going to go check on the lad. You can either step aside out of our way, or we can move you."
Glaring at the man and his freaky eye, Vernon stepped back, and allowed them entry, completely ignoring the polite apology that the brown haired freak with the pedophile mustache tried to give him.
The four magicals climbed the stairs, and approached Harry's room. None of them liked what they saw upon reaching his door. Locks that locked from the outside, and a catflap...there was nothing about this situation that said Harry wasn't being held against his will. About the only thing positive they could see at the moment was that the locks were undone. Hoping that Harry was okay, Moody entered the room...to find a wand pressed into his temple.
"If you don't want me to redecorate my door with your brain, you'll identify yourself to my satisfaction." After they'd done so, Harry lowered his wand, but didn't relax.
"I like the initiative, but remember that Death Eaters travel in packs." Moody growled. "Holding me at wand point wouldn't have worked once the others started cursing."
"I can see the front door from my window, so I knew you were here before you even got in the house." Harry said. "If you had been Death Eaters, or someone I didn't recognize, I wouldn't have bothered giving you the chance to identify yourselves. Remember, I have an Invisibility Cloak, and I had the drop on you. You'd all be dead by now if you were a threat."
"Well, I'm just glad that you're okay." Remus said. "When we didn't receive a letter from you for almost a week, we were worried that something might have happened."
To their shock, Harry smirked. "What makes you think I didn't send any letters? My uncle wasn't lying when he said he'd kept his word."
"But we didn't receive any." Tonks said.
"Do you remember what I wrote to you in the last one you got?" Harry asked. Thinking back, it was Kingsley who remembered first, and answered in his deep voice.
"You said that you were sending all further letters to Miss Granger." He sighed. "But Dumbledore has warded both this house and the Burrow against any letters to and from you that aren't addressed to the Order."
Harry just shrugged. "I was serious about what I said in my letter. The past two letters to the Order were sent to Hermione with the same password instructions as the other one. It's not fault that you haven't gotten the letters. If the letters are really that important, I'd suggest discussing the problem with Dumbledore, since it's his wards that are preventing you from getting them."
Despite the cheekiness of his reply, Tonks and Remus couldn't help being amused by the response.
"Right, you keep writing, and we'll deal with the wards." Moody said. "You are still planning to send them through Granger, correct?"
"Don't see why I should change that at the moment." Harry answered with a shrug and a smirk.
It was four amused Order members that floo'd into the Headmaster's office a half hour later. "Well, is everything alright?"
"The boy is fine, but he's not too fond of you at the moment." Moody said.
"Did you find out why he stopped writing?" Dumbledore asked.
"He didn't stop writing." Kingsley said, earning a confused look from the old wizard.
"Harry did exactly as he said he would." Moony revealed, a smirk playing across his face. "He sent the letters to us by way of Granger. The very wards you erected to keep those two from writing to each other is what's keeping us from getting ours."
"Face it Albus, you underestimated his stubbornness, and the lad outsmarted you."
Quite reluctantly, Dumbledore was forced to change the wards to allow letters for the Order addressed to Hermione.
The next evening found the Order gathered for another meeting, with the expectations that a note from Harry- who'd agreed to write again- would come. After an annoying, disappointingly unproductive brainstorming session- which the twins were starting to think were the norm, and giving them the impression that they'd been had- Hermione was summoned to the kitchen in anticipation of the arrival of a snowy while owl. A short bark announced her arrival, and everyone watched as she circled the room, before landing on the fridge. Just as Hermione was about to go and retrieve the letter, she was instructed to head back upstairs.
"Sir?" She asked.
"While addressed to you, that message is for the Order." Dumbledore said. "While I thank you for navigating this lovely owl to her destination, I believe we can take things from here."
Seeing Hedwig's eyes narrow in what seemed to be the owl equivalent of a glare, Hermione tried to warn him, "Sir, I don't think that's a good id-", but it was too late.
"Well, I did try to warn you." Hermione said minutes later, unfolding the note from Harry as she eyed the bite and claw marks on Dumbledore's hand.
Trying to deflect attention from his embarrassment- as well as his mutilated hand- Dumbledore nodded at the letter. "If you would, Miss Granger."
I am bored out of my mind!
I sincerely hope that someone will read this, and come rescue me soon. Without summer homework, or extra reading, or chores to do around the house I'm more bored than I've ever been in Binns' class.
Hermione paused and winced at that, as did everyone who'd had the ghost as a professor, except Dumbledore. "Something wrong, Miss Granger?"
"Sir, the only things that keep him awake in Binns' class are me, or if he's sufficiently distracted by something else." Hermione replied.
She was surprised when Dumbledore actually looked shocked at that. Now don't be quick to judge the old man. You see, back when a 43 year old Binns first started teaching History of magic- back at the start of Dumbledore's third year in 1894- he was a very lively and engaging professor, who was quite passionate about his subject, much like Flitwick was. It wasn't until he started getting on in years that his teaching style and enthusiasm began to drop to what it currently was, around the time Professor McGonagall became a student in 1947. Six years later he died, which did nothing for his teaching abilities.
Hermione turned back towards the letter, hesitating for several moments, before someone told her to keep reading. With a sigh, she continued aloud.
Did you know I actually got so bored that I spent the past three days masturbating? And on that note, I'd like to go on and apologize to Fleur, Tonks, Hermione, Ginny, Hestia, Mrs. Weasley- Mr. Weasley too for fantasizing about his wife- and Madam Pomphrey.
I would like to again apologize to the first four- and likely the last one- because there's a very good chance that one or more of them will feature prominently the next time I need to tug out my boredom, and the latter because since she's the only medical professional I know well, and so all of my naughty nurse fantasies will probably end up being about her. I hope to Merlin, God, and several other deities that you come get me before I start thinking about my aunt Petunia that way. I mean, sure she was hot at one time, but she's really let herself go since she had Dudley.
Anyway, just thought I'd mention that I'll probably be writing a lot more. Since these letters give me something to do, I'm going to take advantage of that to help with my boredom.
After the note was placed on the table, should one look around the room, they would notice several redheads with exceedingly smug looks on their faces. These looks were mirrored on the faces of a brunette teen, a pink haired young woman, and the mustached gentleman who'd just snorted into the cup of tea he'd been sipping from. One would be awfully surprised at the reactions some people had to what Harry wrote.
Tonks was decidedly amused, as she knew teenage rebellion when she saw it. She knew that he was trying to get a reaction out of the adults- having done similar when she was that age- and found the way he'd done it absolutely brilliant, especially considering the looks on Molly and Hestia's faces. Besides, she was sexy and she knew it, even if Remus did seem to be trying to ignore her. There was a tiny mature part of her that was annoyed at yet another male seeing her as a fantasy object, but it was crushed under the aforementioned knowledge of what he was doing by her larger, much less mature side.
Fleur didn't know what to think at first. Later, after talking with Bill and Hermione about it, she thought the entire thing was a rather crude, albeit slightly amusing, joke. The only reason she didn't find it funnier than she did, was because like Tonks, she knew exactly how most men thought of her. Given the type of lecherous attention she'd been receiving since she was thirteen, she sadly couldn't find as much humor in the letter as the others.
Hestia and Molly were horribly scandalized at the contents of the letter. That some boy was masturbating to thoughts of them was just indecent. And for Molly, it was even worse, because the boy was her son's best friend. Arthur, naive as he was, couldn't blame the lad for thinking of his wife in that way. Molly was definitely a very fine example of woman; though he did gain a small bit of perverse amusement that Harry had actually said so in a letter.
Madam Pomphrey- who'd been there to give Hermione a final check up for complete medical clearance after her injury last term- just shook her head in exasperation. She was flattered, in all honesty, but really, the boy was off his rocker. Still, this did provide her with a very interesting chance. She knew that no matter how much he tried, the poor lad would somehow find his way into her care at some point during the year. It would certainly be amusing to see his reaction to finding out that his words had 'stirred her desires and fantasies for her favorite patient'. It would certainly be a memorable prank; maybe if she dressed the part of the naughty nurse as well? Oh the possibilities...
Hermione and Ginny- along with Ron- who knew exactly what Harry was doing, had a nice big laugh at the whole thing. Although Ginny's comment that he would start thinking about hooking up with her after she had a boyfriend was typical clueless wizard, brought a frown to Ron's face. It also didn't help his mood that the ensuing discussion of hypothetical possibility- where both girls admitted they would be flattered if he was serious- confirmed a few of his fears in regards to Hermione and Harry.
It was a very surprised Hermione Granger who received a letter from her best friend the next afternoon. While she knew that the letter was probably for the Order, since it had come to her, she didn't see any real harm in opening it. After all, it could just be a letter for her, albeit addressed to the Order so that it would get through the wards. Reading through the short note, Hermione was only slightly saddened that Harry hadn't thought of the loophole she had, but that didn't make the letter any less interesting. Her face burned a bright red at the implications she found within. While it was entirely possible that he was making things up to get a reaction, it certainly didn't curb the crazy thoughts that had been coming to her ever since his first flirty letter mentioning certain impractical, confectionary swimwear.
Still, she knew that Harry's intention was to shock and scandalize the Order, so she'd better go and deliver it...although, that didn't mean it had to be right away.
Heading outdoors to the makeshift pitch that Ron and Ginny were practicing on, she called the two down, and showed them Harry's letter. She and Ginny- and even Ron to a smaller extent- had had a nice long laugh imagining the reactions to the letter. She almost wet herself in amusement when Ginny had rubbed her belly, given a frustrated sigh, and called Harry a bloody tease. Hermione completely surprised herself when she found herself slightly agreeing with the younger witch. Grr, what was she thinking? Ron was the boy she wanted...right?
Shaking her head to hopefully shake off the ensuing mental war her rogue thoughts were waging more and more lately, the three returned to the house to inform Mrs. Weasley that a letter had come from Harry.
A bit after seven, the Order- or at least those that could get away from existing responsibilities- were assembled in the Burrow's kitchen. Once everyone was settled, and had been informed of the meeting's intentions, Hermione was prompted to read.
As far as I'm aware, I'm still alive, though at the sacrifice of my sanity. Through sheer force of will, I've been able to curb my rampant masturbation. Unfortunately, this has resulted in all of those pent up hormones coming into play while I sleep, and resulted in extremely vivid and dirty dreams about the previously mentioned ladies from my last letter. Again, I apologize, especially for the one last night where the aforementioned women were all sporting firm, swollen bellies that were entirely my fault. All I'll say is that I expelled enough fluids to flood Hogsmeade, and everyone was a sticky mess afterwards.
Anyway, I have to go. That dream made me realize that I know nothing about being a father, so I'll need to do some research.
Ps. I sincerely hope that my adulterous nighttime musings don't cause any problems with anyone's relationships. If they do, again, I'm very sorry.
Upon Hermione finishing the letter, Bill just couldn't help himself. Trying his best and failing to send her a firm look, Bill asked. "Fleur dearest, is there something that I should know about?"
Fleur almost glared at him, until she saw the teasing smirk on his face. Deciding that two could play that game, she turned her nose up. "You must understand, my love, 'e saved my seester from ze lake." Fleur purred. "Ze debt for 'er life 'ad to be paid, and zere ees but one way to pay such a debt een Veela culture. I can only hope zat you can accept and love my child with 'arry as eef she were your own."
"Of course I would, my dear." Bill teased further. "You are the love of my life, and I accept everything about you."
"I hope zat is true, since I overheard Grandmere telling Maman zat zere may be such a debt, and zat I may be called upon to settle eet." At Bill's shocked, and slightly horrified look, she gave him a mischievous smile. "Not so funny on zat end, ees eet, my love."
Releasing a defeated, but still amused, sigh, Bill replied. "You win."
Fleur waved him off, accepting that they were even in regards to their teasing. "Besides, eef there was such a debt, my seester would eensist on being ze one to 'andle eet." She commented truthfully. "She 'as quite the crush you see, and I doubt zat she would appreciate or react well to another stealing 'er chance."
Molly and Hestia were of course even more scandalized than they'd been after the previous letter. Fred and George's running dialogue about the letter certainly didn't help matters. As a matter of fact, their discussion of whether their mother was still capable of having children at her age, and the amendment that if anyone could get the job done, it was Harry, had her nearly ready to blow her top. As it was, her face was matching her hair, and the look was less than flattering.
Tonks' jokes about having been knocked up by the Boy Who Lived, and not even being able to remember it, only served to add to the amused/scandalized/annoyed/etc. feelings permeating the room; made more effective when she swooned theatrically and swelled her belly up as if she were several weeks along. Between joking about the situation, making a fuss over it, or calming someone who was, none of the other occupants in the room noticed when a certain Muggleborn's face contorted into a frown. Before this summer, Harry Potter had been placed firmly in the 'not-relatioship-but-definitely-more-than-just-a-f riend' column, and she'd been firmly set in her decision to pursue her other close friend, Ron. Exchanging letters with Harry, however, had gotten her thinking about her best friend in ways that she wasn't sure she was comfortable with; though not in a bad way.
What was worse, was that between picturing the whip cream bikini, and it leading to her being swollen with Harry's child, she was having doubts about her decision to date Ron. Even more, she'd twice in the past couple weeks caught herself wondering- considering, even- what a relationship with Harry might be like.
When Hermione received another letter from Harry the very next day, it became rather obvious what he was doing. It was for this reason that Dumbledore declared any further meetings regarding Harry's letters optional, so as not to take up unnecessary time. Unsurprisingly, the only people who showed up were those who had a vested interest in Harry's well being (the Weasleys, Fleur, Tonks, and Remus), or those who were gaining tons of amusement from the letters (Kingsley and Moody). As such, Ron and Ginny were also allowed to attend the meeting.
When everyone had gathered, Hermione read the very short note.
Oh come on. I was sure my last couple letters would elicit some kind of response. Even a Howler or a firm rebuke from Mrs. Weasley decrying the content of my letters would be welcome and appreciated. At least then I'd know you're still acknowledging the possibility that I'm still alive.
With less love,
Turning to the oldest person in the room, Hermione couldn't help asking. "Sir, do you think it wise to keep ignoring these obvious cries for help?"
"Harry will be fine, and I fell it's good for him to get away from all the madness for awhile." Dumbledore replied, firmly believing his way was right. While Hermione would agree that this was probably true, complete isolation like he'd been suffering was a bit much.
"You only say that, because you're not going to have be here to deal with his temper when he finally gets out of that place." Ron grumbled loud enough for everyone to hear.
As much as Molly wanted to rebuke her son, even she remembered how Harry had reacted the previous summer when they'd brought him to Headquarters.
The evening of July 27 again brought the smaller cadre of the Order of the Flamboyant Pigeon- as peacocks were apt to calling the phoenixes out of jealousy- together. And again, the teens had been allowed to join the group for the reading of Harry's letter. With an exasperated sigh- she hadn't read the letter yet, but Hermione could guess what it might entail- Hermione opened the letter, and began to read through it silently, so as not to be too surprised. She immediately dropped the letter after starting the third paragraph.
"Miss Granger, what does it say?" Dumbledore asked worriedly.
"I'd truthfully rather not, but since I seem to be the only one who can," Hermione said with a sigh. "Just so you know, I did try to warn you.
Would it be a bother to ask for someone to write me back? I'm so bored now that I actually asked my relatives for chores. The screwed up thing, they're still too afraid of Moody showing up again to actually give me more than a couple things to do a week.
Thanks to your blatant neglect, I've started masturbating again! This time, I'm not going to be apologizing to anyone- even if Mr. Weasley is a great bloke- for the dirty mental ravishings of your significant others. Since you're all members of Dumbledore's Order of the Baked Buzzards, I'm not going to feel any remorse about wanking to thoughts of your wives anymore.
That being said, would it be possible to get some risque pictures of Hermione, Tonks, and Fleur; maybe a couple of Mrs. Weasley from her Hogwarts years, as I hear she was rather sexy and buxum? Maybe some ideas for dirty fantasies about them as well? I've been so bored, and masturbating so much, that I've actually run out of naughty fantasies to use! The naughty schoolgirl fantasy is always relevant, so photos to match, as well as any other sexy ones you can spare, would be much appreciated; especially of the first three.
With increasingly less love,
Ps. Sorry Gin, but I didn't want to invoke your mum's wrath by asking for dirty pictures of you, and considering who's currently staying there, anyone of them having dirty fantasies about you is ten kinds of wrong for one reason or another.
PPs. Small addendum to that last thought. While I know it'll get me into a lot of trouble, I can freely admit that you and Hermione together is a wonderful fantasy worth several hours of...hard...thinking. Thanks for the help!
Silence reigned for several moments, before pandemonium broke out, starting with the twins synchronized collapsing to the floor in laughter. There were the token looks of affront, the looks of amused exasperation, and even several glares of frustration being directed at Dumbledore to complement Molly's running rant about Harry being corrupted by the Dursleys, and them needing to get him back where he can be healed and kept an eye on.
No one would know, but Ginny and Hermione couldn't look each other in the eye without blushing for hours afterwards. Hermione even woke in the middle of the night questioning her sexuality after a rather surprising dream involving a redhead that wasn't the one she currently fancied.
Mid-morning of this particularly warm day found Harry sitting in his room with a half eaten egg sandwich sitting nearby. After writing the Order of the Flaming Peacock on a daily basis for the past week, and even making sure his letters were dirty enough to get a reaction from at the very least Mrs. Weasley, Harry had finally had enough. It was only a few days before his birthday, and something told him that Dumbledore was going to be a complete git about springing him beforehand. Just like last year, and a few before, he was going to be forced to spend his birthday with his disgusting relatives. He couldn't take it anymore, so finally decided to try something new.
Half an hour later, Hedwig was winging through the air with two letters strapped to her.
When the order convened on that evening, it was a meeting of the full Order
Given the contents of last few letters, Dumbledore was already preparing himself to virtually ignore anything that Harry might have to say that did not pertain to his safety, or the boy's submission to the fact that he knew best, and to do as he was told. At least, that was the plan until Hermione started reading.
Dear Order of the Stuffed Vulture,
Hermione paused to stare up at the Headmaster for a reaction. It was plain to see that neither he, nor the members of said order were amused or appreciative of the title. It was also apparent that anyone who'd met Dame Longbottom recognized the reference being made to her hat.
Would it kill you to write me back? I mean seriously, you were making me write to you every three days, the least you cruel bastards could do is return the correspondence. Hell, the only reason I decided not to tell the lot of you to bugger yourselves, and stop writing, was because Hedwig seems to enjoy making the deliveries. She'd also probably express her displeasure in a way I'd rather not relive if I stopped writing, too, so you got lucky.
Ps. If you don't write or come get me soon, I'm going to start writing letters to Voldemort to pass the time. And no, this is not a joke or prank.
"Okay, this has just stopped being funny." Remus said with a dangerous look towards Dumbledore. "Harry's really started to sound angry at your decision."
"I highly doubt that Harry really intends to write Voldemort." Dumbledore placated. "He's just lashing out."
"Then you obviously don't know Harry as well as you think you do." Ron said sarcastically. "He's definitely going to try it."
That actually gave Dumbledore pause, especially when Hermione nodded her agreement. "Severus?"
"I will find out if this is true." He said, leaving quickly. Once outside though, he took his leisurely time leaving the wards, before apparating back to his home. He too highly doubted that the boy would write to the Dark Lord, this was just another cry for attention. He'd simply go back tomorrow, or the day after, and tell the old man what he wanted to hear.
Of course we know that Snape's bias against all things Potter would prevent him from realizing that he didn't know Harry anywhere near as well as he assumed he did.
Meanwhile, in a drawing room in Wiltshire, a pale man was once again reading the letter he'd received that afternoon. For all the mutual loathing they had for one another, this was a surprisingly cordial letter from the thorn in his side.
Y'know, after everything we've been through together, the way we address each other seems just a bit impersonal. Since I'd much prefer you call me Harry, do you mind if I call you Tom? I know you hate that name, especially when Dumbledork uses it, but we both know he does things like that patronizingly. Me, I'd be calling you Tom with affection- completely platonic, of course- so it wouldn't be so bad, right?
Anyway, I thought about using that connection of ours to say hi, but decided against it when I realized I might interrupt while you were doing something private. Anyway, since we don't have any summer work because of OWLs, I was bored, so I thought I'd just write and ask what you were doing this summer. I'm willing to bet your summer has been way better than mine has been. I'm of course stuck with the Dursleys again, and I'm sad to say, it's probably just as bad as that orphanage was for you.
I was also wondering if you had any plans to send any Death Eaters to capture me. If you do, I'd like to request that you send Bellatrix or Narcissa, and that you stress to them that the most efficient way for capturing a hormonal teenager is simply asking him to follow you after he's been shagged into a blissful stupor.
If you don't plan on capturing me, then could you at least help me convince Bellatrix or Narcissa to make a man out of a bloke? I'm honestly getting tired of that Boy-Who-Lived monicker, and I'd rather not take the other, more mortally hazardous, route to losing it.
Your nemesis (or so everyone keeps telling me)
Ps. Don't kill my owl. Killing my owl would make you a dick, and the only person I consider deserving of that title at the moment is Dumbledore. Also, there might be some kind of mail blocking or diverting wards on my summer residence, so you might have to charm your letters to get through them.
He remembered the rather beautiful owl that had delivered the letter. He wasn't about to kill the owl, especially considering that it was probably Potter's familiar. That likely meant that she was to Potter what Nagini was to himself, and killing her would likely send his 'nemesis' off on one of those cliche killing sprees that usually spelled all kinds of doom for all of Potter's enemies; namely himself. He would also have to stress to Nagini not to bother the owl...although given what happened the last time his snake had decided to terrorize an owl familiar, he rather doubted that she would be trying that again; especially since Hedwig seemed quite a bit more intelligent than the other had.
Nagini had gotten lucky before, he doubted that she'd be so this time.
Reading the letter again, this time focusing on the last paragraph, Voldemort couldn't help but develop a cruel smirk. Yes, he would do just that. And if she protested, he could always tell her it was punishment for her failure at the Ministry.
"Bellatrix, I have an assignment for you." Voldemort hissed, jotting something on a scrap of parchment. "I want you to go and kidnap Potter from his Muggle relatives."
"I would be delighted to, my lord." The insane woman chirped.
"You must be cautious, however." He warned. "I have no doubt that Dumbledore has placed wards there for his protection based on intent. I, however, have found a way around them, and you must follow these instructions to the letter."
"Milord?" She asked, upon reading the instructions.
"Do you have a problem with this, Bellatrix?" He asked in a menacing voice.
"No milord, it will be as you command." As she bowed out of the room, a cruel smile played on his face again. Well, he did his good deed for the decade, and he wouldn't have to worry about being nice again for a good long time.
Voldemort had to admit he was kind of interested in seeing how this played out. He'd always been so serious in his youth, that he'd missed out on things. Pranking people, for instance, was likely the one he regretted the most because it generally involved cruelty being excused in the name of humor. Sending a blood purist to a Muggle house, in a Muggle neighborhood, to have sex with a Halfblood would certainly be a good one. And if she just so happened to succeed in kidnapping him, then all the better. If not, it would allow him to at least test the defenses protecting the boy.
Harry awoke early in the morning when he got the disturbing sensation that he was being watched. Opening his eyes, he found a blurry ball of white fluff staring down at him from his headboard. Reaching for his glasses, he donned them and smiled up at his best non-human friend.
"Morning Hedwig, good delivery?" The owl fluffed herself up importantly, while holding out her leg. "Thanks girl, I put you some treats in your tray, and I even made sure they were the bacon flavored ones."
With a flutter of wings, a landing, and what amounted to a peck on the cheek- no pun intended- Hedwig made haste to her treat station. She knew she was a glutton for some bacon, which was why she was so insistent upon as much action as possible to help keep her girlish figure. Sitting up, Harry opened the letter. Later he would realize how unvigilant he was being by not checking the letter for traps of any sort, but at the time, he was desperate for communication, and beyond caring.
I guess your first point does have some merit. You may call me Tom, but only when it is just the two of us. Before you even say it, yes I'm aware of how that sounded, and no it was not meant that way.
As for my plans this summer, I was going to go and kill Amelia Bones, but when I learned that Moody had been made part of her personal guard rotation, and that no matter what, I couldn't get a decisive schedule on when he'd be on guard, I decided against it. One on one, both are capable of making me work for a victory, against both of them, it's like trying to fight a Dumbledore more than willing to hold nothing back and use lethal force. Even if I am essentially immortal, dying and rebodying is time consuming, extremely uncomfortable, and not something I want to make a habit of. Still, it vexes me that someone in the Ministry was smart enough to think of that. I mean, I know I soldier the pureblood cause, but mostly because they're gullible enough to do what you say if you say the right things.
As it is, I was going to just plot and plan until I got your letter. Given how famous you are, it's actually kind of surprising that you're still a virgin...but then again, all things considered, I guess you haven't really had the time to spare for it, have you? Given that I've had a fairly large hand in this, and it's wholly embarrassing for me if my nemesis is a virgin, I'm willing to help just this once. Be expecting Bellatrix within the week. You'll have to find out for yourself whether I plan to have you captured or not, but as my nemesis, I'm sure you'll figure it out.
Harry gave a wide smile, before getting up to reply. Communicating with Voldemort when he was civil and not trying to kill him was kind of fun. He had to admit the man had a rather interesting sense of humor; even if he did find it a bit disturbing that someone could so easily joke about murdering someone.
'Hmm, maybe I could use the Tom's homicidal tendencies, and his obsession with killing me to my advantage...' Harry thought deviously, quickly scratching out a small paragraph that might appeal to Voldemort's rage, before starting on the rest of the letter.
He'd only gotten a paragraph in, before he heard his uncle yelling. Deciding to go see what it was about, rather than ignore it and have it bite him in the arse, he went to see what was the problem...though not before adding his casual mention of Dolores Umbridge's actions, and a post script.
Early evening found Tom 'I am Lord Voldemort' Riddle sitting on this throne like chair, shifting in annoyance at the uncomfortable seat. He didn't know where the two slightly dim recruits had stolen the chair from, but he could hazard a guess as to why. While he wanted to punish them for it, he really didn't want to discourage initiative amongst the tools...well, unless that initiative resulted in his plans being disrupted, like Lucius' folly that had cost him one of his Horcruxes. He was definitely going to have to see about getting a new chair; because the back support for this one was terrible. Maybe he'd assign the two to steal him a more comfortable chair.
Picking up the missive that the Snowy Owl left on his side table, Voldemort spared a slight glance at his familiar- whom was currently watching the owl fly away hungrily- and shook his head. One could tell just from looking into her eyes how intelligent, and secretly vicious, that owl was. The plotting look in the snake's eyes was very telling of her plans, and he contemplated discouraging it. If Nagini did what he thought she was going to do, that owl was going cost him a familiar and another Horcrux if she decided not to show any mercy. Again shaking his head, the pale man opened the letter and read the short missive.
I thank you for your vote of confidence. I have to agree that I was just as stumped as you were when I read that. I guess that's the difference between Fudge and someone with more than two brain cells. Though if I'm honest, I doubt it was anyone in the Ministry that thought of it. Probably an offhand comment made by a Muggleborn or Halfblood that someone in the Ministry overheard, and regurgitated as their own clever idea. If so, I'm shocked they didn't butcher the idea in transit so much that it became even more useless than the original plan.
I don't know if you know this or not, but Dolores Umbridge tried to steal your thunder. She's the one who sent the Dementors after me last summer ago, and tried to have me Kissed. She admitted to sending them, and admitted that it was unfortunate that I'd learned how to defend against them as she'd hoped to get rid of me. She also made me write 'I must not tell lies.' with a Blood Quill until that sentence was carved into the back of my hand.
Well, I have to go, my uncle is yelling again, so I'd better go see what he's yelling about.
Ps. By the way, what kind of dirt can you give me on Dumbledore? Thinking about him worrying himself into a tizzy over my knowing something I shouldn't know sounds like a very amusing passtime.
Placing the letter on the table next to his throne, Voldemort tried to contain his fury. That this woman had not only tried to take the kill that was rightfully his, but had also had the nerve to torture the boy in such a way without his permission. No, that would not stand.
"Ministry Death Eater 16, what do you know about this Dolores Umbridge?"
"Well, she's definitely down for the cause," The man started slowly in a monotone drawl, a side effect from working in the Ministry too long, Voldemort supposed. It made him wonder how blokes like Arthur Weasley kept so lively. Although, given the rumors about his wife, that could have been responsible. "-but she's like, seriously extreme in her hatred of nonpurebloods, even by our standards. She honestly believes that anything not fully human and pure of blood- even somewhat useful creatures like Veela, werewolves, and Goblins- should all be put down. Even the traditionalists who would support our cause have called her a stupid bigot. She's also is something of a renegade, and might get ideas above her station. There's also the chance that she might take initiatives of her own, and the rumors about Harry Potter being attacked by Dementors last year have her pegged as the prime suspect. That kind incompetence could interfere with your perfectly laid plans."
"Random Death Eaters 23 and 32, tomorrow night I want you to pay a visit to Madam Umbridge, and express my extreme displeasure at her attempt on Harry Potter." Voldemort ordered. "When he dies, it will be by my hand alone. Oh, and find me a more comfortable chair on your way back, will you? This has absolutely no lumbar support."
Really now, you couldn't be a properly frightening Dark Lord with a bad back, it just wasn't done.
At the same time, another letter was being delivered.
After the rather serious letter the day before, the Order had unanimously decided that from there on, all meetings were full personel meetings; and none would accept the exclusion of Harry's friends as the only sources of true knowledge of the boy. The fact that Dumbledore had assured them that Harry hadn't written to Voldemort- and that this was instantly followed up by his standard declaration of trusting Severus and his judgement like it was a reflex- would only bring the latter feeling home even more once the letter arrived. Again, it was a considerably short letter, but all waited with baited breath for Hermione to read it.
Well, I tried to warn you. I have already written to Voldemort, and I mentioned that there may be some mail blocking wards on my residence. I also told him that I'm considering switching sides, because the people who are supposed to be my comrades have left me to rot in Durzkaban.
"Are you sure you trust Severus' word on this?" Remus asked, becoming highly suspicious of Snape's truthfulness. While he didn't doubt the man's dedication to seeing the end of Voldemort, his irrational hatred of Harry- and all things Potter- made it extremely difficult to trust the man with anything that involved James and Lily's son.
"I have full trust that Severus would not lie to me." Dumbledore said for what must have been the fourth time that meeting. "He knows what's at stake here. Besides, I'm sure that Harry is just trying to get our attention like he has in previous letters."
"You really are barmy, aren't you?" Ron asked disbelievingly, wondering if this was the same Dumbledore he'd always been raised to always respect. Hermione herself couldn't believe how obtuse the man was being. "I doubt he was serious about switching sides, but Harry definitely wrote to Voldemort, even if just to be an arse or make a nuisance of himself." Ron finished, knowing full well his friend would do it.
Harry had been up for nearly three hours, and while his morning so far had been great, he'd prefer to still be asleep; especially considering he'd been awake since before dawn. He'd tried to go back to sleep, but sleep just wasn't coming. Considering how relaxed and lethargic his body was at the moment, he couldn't understand why he'd couldn't sleep. Upon being awakened by the rather insistent prodding of his morning wood into her backside, Bellatrix grumpily muttered about horny teenagers waking her up before practically tearing his sleep pants off. She had then proceeded to ride him into the mattress, all the while insisting that he wait until she was awake enough to enjoy his attentions before doing it again.
Climbing out of bed, Harry padded over to his desk, and pulled out a bit of his Dobby charmed parchment. Not only did he need to send old Tom a thank you, but he needed to write the Order before they decided to come visit him again, and find out about Bella. Since he'd been writing daily, they'd probably take anything less as a bad sign. He also knew he needed to keep the letter short, because there was no telling when Bellatrix- who was currently unconscious by way of orgasm following some pre-breakfast nookie- would recover, and jump him again soon. Still, he'd happily welcome her attention, and quite enthusiastically give her a special treat as a thank you to her Master for sending the randy witch to him.
Well, if you're looking for dirt on Dumbledore, then I guess you might want to know that he's gay. Not that it's really a secret though, just not really talked about these days so the younger generation mostly doesn't know. What you might find interesting though, is that his lover was once Gellert Grindelwald before the man went batshit. I mean seriously, even I'm not crazy enough to go for world domination. That's just asking for trouble. And paperwork. Lots and lots of paperwork.
Well, I have to go, I have some recruits to initiate tonight, and it takes a bit get things set up.
Bad as I wanna be,
Ps. Can you possibly recommend a comfortable chair? The ones my minions keep finding me just aren't up to scratch. I'm one more bad cramp away from throwing around Cruciatus curses like they're going out of style, and the last thing I need is more braindead minions.
Glancing at the rather short missive that had come just after his newspaper, Harry decided to start with the Order's letter first, since it was the easiest.
The early afternoon of July 30 brought a rather sizable shock for the Order of the Putrid Pigeons. Rather than being delivered to Hermione as per usual, the letter had been delivered to the leader of the vigilante group. Well, less delivered, more uncaringly tossed in the direction of Dumbledore's wrinkled face, but still. Deciding to wait, he put the letter down, and called a meeting.
When the Order had assembled, they'd been shocked that not only had the letter been delivered to Dumbledore, but he that he could also read the note's contents. Of course, the lack of respect Harry seemed to have for the Headmaster at that moment was evident in the fact that not only was the note extremely short, but it was written on a scrap of parchment that looked to have been torn off an old essay if the E in red ink next to his name on the other side was anything to go by. Upon recognizing his own handwriting, Snape's scowl deepened even more than it normally was.
When he read the note, Dumbledore found himself the recipient of several glares.
Dear Order of the Penis,
Blow Me! Since you inconsiderate bastards are going to ignore me, then I'm going to be too busy to say more than 'Blow Me!' for a good long while.
Ps. Yes, Headmaster, I know all about how you used to get all naked and cuddly with Grindelwald before he went batshit. Gives a whole new meaning to the phrase scorned ex, eh?
At the same time, another old man was receiving a letter from the owl. Frowning, he absently cast a silencing spell at the corner of the room where a loud commotion was taking place. When the angry screeching and fearful hissing disappeared, he decided to ignore the one-sided fight over in the corner as he opened the letter.
If it's a comfortable chair you want, I'd suggest a Lay Z Boy. Sure it's made by Muggles, but I've heard they're damn comfortable.
Anyway, thanks for sending Bella to me, she was absolutely brilliant. Azkaban may have made her a prime candidate for an insanitarium, but she can still get it done in the sac. She can do this thing to your balls with her tongue that'll drive you absolutely mental- though I'm sure you already know all about it. It's good to see someone actually taking responsibility for things they've done. That, and the fact that you've not made it a secret why you're so interested in me, actually puts you way ahead of Dumbledore in my book. You know our side is in bad shape if the 'bad guy' gets more respect from 'the hero' for being honest with him, than the supposed 'mentor'.
I've also learned something very interesting since Bella's arrival; apparently I'm a very good lay. Bella kinda wants to stay and be my cumdump- her words, not mine- so I was wondering if you would mind me keeping her. She sends her best wishes, and hopes that you can find it in your heart to make her husband suffer an unfortunate accident that leaves her as a grieving widow for me to 'properly comfort'. She also asks that you do the same for her sister, and send her along to get a proper shagging.
Well, I gotta go, Bella just swallowed my willy again, and it's getting hard to concentrate- no pun intended. She said she needed a quickie to tie her over during the annoying Occlumency lessons she was being forced to give Draco this evening.
Really quite busy at the moment,
The leader of the darkside found himself decidedly amused at Potter's ramblings. Potter was right on all accounts in his assessment of Bellatrix. Yes, she was mentally unstable, but the woman was a spectacular shag; not that her husband knew, though. He did wonder which thing the boy was referring to though, as she'd done quite a few interesting things with her tongue...though admittedly only two had been to his balls. That Potter had more respect for him than Dumbledore because he was honest in his desire to kill him almost made him want to laugh.
He was decidedly less amused about the next section. That the boy was naturally skilled enough to make an experienced woman like Bellatrix defect to become his personal whore was troubling. He couldn't allow the boy to turn one of his best Death Eaters- which given her insanity was kind of sad- but what could he do. Wait, he had mentioned Narcissa. Sending Narcissa in Bellatrix's place would work, and since she wasn't a Death Eater, and therefore wasn't as important an asset, she was expendable for this purpose. Besides, it wasn't like Lucius was doing anything with her at the moment.
It was foolproof. Narcissa would switch places with Bellatrix, and he would have his best fighter back. Really, what were the chances of Bella's infamous loyalty to him being overpowered by something as measly as lust for a recently deflowered teenage boy? Then again, she had said she wanted to stay and be his cumdump.
Finishing the letter, he was annoyed that Bellatrix had mentioned the lessons, but figured that Potter knowing that tidbit wouldn't hurt anything.
Glancing over to the corner of the room where his familiar lay unconscious, he once again shook his head. He'd tried to warn Nagini not to bother that owl, but she wouldn't listen to him. Maybe now she would heed his warning.
"Wormtail!" He yelled. "Take Nagini to the vet immediately!"
Upon seeing the brutalized snake, he turned to his master, and couldn't help asking. "Master, what happened?"
"She got into a fight with Potter's owl, and lost." Pettigrew winced, remembering the one time he'd seen Hedwig fight. It had been back when he'd been hiding from Sirius. Apparently the Malfoys' owl decided he wanted her perch in the owlry, and thought he would take it while she was out delivering a letter. Upon returning and finding the black owl in her spot...well, it hadn't been pretty, and he still had nightmares. It was almost like Lily had been reincarnated as an owl.
"Right away, milord." Peter said, levitating the injured snake away.
"Random Death Eaters 23 and 32, I have another job for you." Voldemort snapped. "When you finish with Umbridge, I want you to find me a Lay Z Boy chair, and I want it ASAP!"
With simultaneous nods, the two disappeared. Luckily, Number 32 was a Halfblood, and knew what the master wanted. He'd be sure that he and his partner picked one up on the way back from delivering the Master's message to Umbridge.
"And someone fetch Narcissa Malfoy!" He yelled, before quietly adding. 'I have need of her talents if I'm to get by best fighter back.'
Just after eight, Harry found himself awakened by the pop of apparition. He just barely made out the blurry form of a person before his clothes vanished, and his todger was engulfed by a very experienced mouth. Reaching over, Harry grabbed his glasses and groaned as he stared at the top of the head of blonde hair bobbing in his lap.
For the next half hour, the sounds of obscene slurping echoed throughout the room, punctuated by equally loud groans of delight. This was followed by a harsh grunt- accompanied by the crossing of Harry's eyes- and the sounds of heaving gulps as round one came to an end. For the next three hours after that, slapping skin and keening wails of delight bounced off the walls of the smallest bedroom of 4 Privet Drive as the next 11 rounds of hanky panky took place. Although, if one wanted to get technical, ever since Bella showed up, it wasn't anywhere close to being the smallest room in the house anymore.
Shortly before midnight, Harry found himself awakened again, this time by the bark of his beautiful familiar. He just barely made out the blurry black owl as it hurriedly dropped a letter onto his bedside table next to his glasses, before flying off, giving Hedwig's perch a wide berth for some reason. Since it wasn't one he recognized, and he knew Dumbledore would be the dramatic type to send Fawkes, he correctly assumed it was from Voldemort. Reaching over, Harry grabbed both his glasses and the letter, and read the latter with the former.
No, you cannot keep Bella. Mentally not all there she may be, but she's still one of the few competent followers I have. As for her request, since their monumental failure against a bunch of kids, I'd been contemplating a suitable punishment for Lucius and the others anyway. This just gives me an excuse to actually go through with it. After hearing Bella's bragging, Narcissa is looking forward to her turn; especially after being told how you blew her back out. What does that even mean? Anyway, she'll probably be there before this letter, and I suspect she'll be interested in moving in, and taking Bella's place as your cumdump.
By the way, I hope you don't mind, but I named you my heir, and beneficiary to my estate should the impossible happen. If you're wondering why, I received a mandate from the Ministry- how the hell did they find me?- about a law passed several years ago. Basically, the law states that all of age heads of old pureblood houses must have an heir- whether blood or named- as well as an indisputable written will. I don't know the specifics, but considering that I'm the last in Slytherin's line- heh, oops- as well as the oldest current male descendent of the two Peverell brothers who died with issue, I'm required by law to have one, and the bloody letter came with an extremely strong compulsion charm on it.
My paperwork will be filed within the next month, so just a heads up so you know what's going on should you wake up to find twenty pounds of paperwork waiting for you to sign a few hundred times. Seriously, it makes no sense. All of that wasted parchment for a bunch of legalese that could have been summed up in a page and a half without missing any details.
P.s. Which tongue thing are you referring to? The swirling thing, or the flicking one.
Setting the letter on the bed next to him, Harry sighed in contentment. Tom had been right about Narcissa arriving before the letter, and she hadn't wasted any time trying to get her own helping of what he'd done to Bella. While it wouldn't be till morning, he was going to have to write to Tom to find out what he meant in his post script.
The morning of Harry's birthday, he was awaken by the amazing feeling of Narcissa and Bellatrix's tongues doing wonderful things below his waist. It certainly was an oddly interesting contrast of techniques that only further served to accentuate their personalities, and sexual quirks. Bellatrix was an absolute slag in bed- and was damn proud of it- but always seemed to give off the refined air of a proper lady, even while doing things to a bloke's block and tackle that were anything but decent. Even going so far as to slam his tally into her fanny and arse while screaming at him to fuck her pussy/arse till it breaks.
Narcissa on the other hand, was much more tame in her sexuality, tending to prefer the more socially acceptable sexual positions and scenarios. With Narcissa, it was oral, then him on top, her on top, or him taking her from behind. Even still, she managed to look like an utter slag while doing the deed. He still couldn't figure out how Bella looked like a proper lady performing her wifely duties while doing some of the raunchiest things he'd ever heard of, while Narcissa looked like a two knut whore while doing little more than what could be considered wifely duties.
Seriously, Bellatrix looked like Narcissa acted, and acted like Narcissa looked; while Narcissa acted like Bellatrix looked, and looked like Bellatrix acted. It made no bloody sense, and yet, he'd be lying if he said he really cared, so long as they continued to act like they had been.
Besides, it's not like it mattered at the moment anyway. What did matter was that it was his birthday, and his two lovelies were giving him a spectacular start to it. He couldn't way to see what they had planned in the way of a present.
A few hours after his rather spectacular birthday present ended- a stamina potion, followed by a strip tease, that led to hours of debauchery- Harry extricated himself from the tangle of limbs- whose owners were so far beyong shagged silly, they were currently in hibernation recovering from a near a pleasure induced coma- and sat down at his desk. Harry's eyes again found the rather amusing article that graced the special edition of the Ministry Mouthpiece delivered that morning.
He'd only had just a moment to glance at the headline earlier before being locked in a pile of writhing limbs, but now he would have a chance to actually read it. The front page was bedecked with a very interesting story; one that brought a smile to his face. On the page was a picture of a home with the Dark Mark above it, along with the headline, 'Dolores Umbridge Found Slain in Home!' Not believing it could be true, Harry read the article.
Tragedy struck the Ministry of Magic last evening. Our beloved Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, Dolores Umbridge was found butchered in her home last evening. Around one a.m., a distraught house elf appeared in the DMLE, and reported to the night shift aurors that her mistress had been killed. Upon arriving at the scene, the aurors found the mutilated corpse of Madam Umbridge, and diagnostics revealed that she'd been dead for at least three hours. When questioned as to why she'd only just reported it, the poor, abused elf had replied that she'd only just awakened from Mistress' punishment, and found her in that state.
Aurors on scene described the scene as grisly. Aside from the various stab wounds, the vicious slashes aross her torso, and the pulped remains of her hands and feet, she was also sporting a rather peculiar sentence carved into her back. While no one knows what 'I must not tell lies.' means, investigators believe that looking into her past actions might shed some light on the situation.
Harry stopped reading at that point, as he'd had his curiosity sated, and absolutely nothing could ruin his happiness at that moment. Between the immensely brilliant way he'd been awaken, the exceptional birthday present from Cissa and Bella, and the rather nice gift he'd received from Tom, he'd probably have to have the grin on his face surgically removed with the mood he was in.
Relaxed and happy beyond all reason, it was time to write a couple letters. Hell, he was so giddy at the moment, that he couldn't even muster up enough frustration to really antagonize the Order. Luckily he'd already sent his letter off to the Order before he was incapable of properly expressing his feelings.
As for now, a letter to his new pal was in order.
Dude, I just had the most awesome birthday ever. My first threesome ever, and with two sexy, experienced, older women. Sister, to boot. I'll admit, at first I was worried that I wouldn't be able to handle both Narcissa and Bellatrix at the same time, cuz it's hard sometimes to keep up with them on their own, but I came through with shining colors. But I doubt you want to hear about my sexual exploits. So on that note...
Absolutely smashing show with Umbridge. I couldn't have done it better myself. Seriously, while I'd liked to have, I really couldn't have done it; what with me still operating on the 'proper' side of the law.
You know, you're a very good teacher. In the two evenings you've been teaching me Occlumency, I've learned more than I did after weeks with Snape. It's too bad we didn't have someone like you as our DADA professor. Hmm, I wonder, if I can prove to you that this whole pureblood thing is absolute nonsense, will you give up the whole Dark Lord thing, and apply for the Defense position at Hogwarts?
Also, if you don't mind me asking, what happened that night you gave me the scar? I know you don't like talking about it, but honestly, this whole Boy-Who-Lived thing is highly suspicious to me, and I want to know the truth. The only problem is, you're the only person old enough to remember that's still alive.
Oh, and speaking of my scar, since we got that nasty bit of you out of my head, I've been able to think much more clearly. Those Occlumency exercises are coming much more easily, and I can even use Parseltongue and understand it without having to picture a bloody snake every time.
Ps. What flicking thing? Seriously, she was holding out on me, and even after I showed her the Parseltongue trick? That's so not cool. Looks like some punishment is in order for bad girl Bella. Although knowing her, she'll probably seriously get off on it.
Later that evening, Dumbledore was reading aloud the latest missive from Harry. Unfortunately, by the time Hedwig had returned from delivering his letter to Voldemort, Harry had finally come down from his sex induced high, and could properly address the Order.
Dear Order of the Retarded Ravens,
Needless to say, people were not amused.