Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Hermione's Furry Little Problem	By : Gandalfs-Beard Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 242818 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 20
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its associated properties. They belong to JK Rowling. I make no money from the production of this work.

Chapter List
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The white cloud drifted towards the ground and settled lightly on the lawn next to the groaning crumpled form of Lord Voldemort. The cloud dissipated, revealing the tall figure of the Headmaster looming above the dark wizard. Everyone stilled, silently watching in anticipation.
Hermione curled her bushy tail around Harry as they both drew their breaths. Albus Dumbledore sighed and drew the Sword of Gryffindor from within his robes as he peered unblinkingly at Tom Riddle.
Voldemort snorted angrily, then winced in pain, still not certain how all of his plans had gone so horribly awry. With his muggle father’s blood cast out, the Dark Lord should have been the Headmaster’s superior in every way. Still, Voldemort consoled himself with the fact that he had an ace in the hole, six of them to be precise. He would find another wizard to bring him back eventually. Feeling somewhat mollified, he silently returned Dumbledore’s gaze.
“Well Tom,” Dumbledore finally said, “It appears that your second reign of terror has come to an ignominious end.”
Dumbledore’s piercing blue gaze penetrated Tom Riddle’s blazing red eyes as he stood over the prone “Dark Lord” with the Sword of Gryffindor in hand. Voldemort cackled in response.
“You are a fool Dumbledore,” the Dark Lord hissed, confident that his horcruxes would continue to bind him to life. “I have traveled further into the realm of Death than any before me, and returned. I have defeated Death and I shall rise again, stronger than before. Besides, I know you... You are too much of a Coward to kill.”
Voldemort faltered slightly when he saw the Headmaster of Hogwarts’ eyes twinkling and a smile creep to the old man’s lips. Was Dumbledore really that stupid? Did he not understand that the Dark Lord was destined to rule Britain? Did he truly not see the futility of killing the unkillable? Had all those Lemon-drops gone to Dumbledore’s head?
Dumbledore had seen all he needed to see. Tom Riddle was rather adept at Legilimency, but he no longer had enough control to be a truly great Occlumens.
The Headmaster chuckled softly. At one time he might have felt some small measure of pity for the pathetic delusional creature which he saw lying before him.
After all, it hadn’t really been Tom Riddle’s fault that he had been marked by diseased inbreeding and magical rape from birth. Riddle had been left motherless by a severely damaged and emotionally stunted young woman dying of a broken heart. It wasn’t Tom Riddle’s fault that he could never feel love.
But the time for pity was long, long past. Lord Voldemort was the creation of a remarkably intelligent young man who had been given every opportunity to forge a new path for himself. As sad as it was that he had not the capacity to develop a more positive future for himself, and had fallen into psychosis and delusion, Riddle had for too long wrought too much cruelty and destruction to be afforded the luxury of sympathy.
“Not this time, Tom!” Dumbledore sighed as he swung the Sword of Gryffindor.
The look of shock froze on Voldemort’s face as his head was violently cleaved from his body and flew through the air. It struck the sloping lawn and tumbled all the way down the hill into the Black Lake as a red puddle formed in the grass by the gaping neck of Tom Riddle’s corpse.
Dumbledore reached out with his senses, then glanced towards the Forbidden Forest and spied Nagini slithering away through the field of demolished Inferi, and the dead and wounded Giants, Trolls, Lycans, and Wizards. With a crack the Headmaster apparated to within the serpent’s striking range. Nagini hissed and lunged at the Headmaster.
The Sword of Gryffindor flashed in the morning sun once again, and the Great Snake’s head was sent soaring after its Master’s into the Black Lake.
There was now only one Horcrux left, and thanks to Tom Riddle’s lack of control, the Headmaster now knew where it resided. Albus Dumbledore strode back through the fallen towards the castle with some satisfaction. Retrieving Hufflepuff’s cup should be a relatively simple task.
Pending the destruction of the last Horcrux, the Order and the Coven could now focus all of their efforts on exposing the Minister’s crimes and bringing her to justice.

~o0o~

Madam Pomfrey ignored the wounded attackers lying on the front lawn, leaving them to the devices of the Healers who were already arriving from St Mungo’s, and the Aurors who would soon be following.
All weariness from the long night forgotten, Madam Pomfrey bustled around the Hospital Wing tending to the members of the Coven. She was relieved to no end that they had all survived the tumultuous ordeal that they had faced. Fleur, Daphne, Parvati, and Dora seemed none the worse for wear, but the rest needed looking after, as did Neville.
“Well, Mr Potter, you shouldn’t be conscious at all,” Madam Pomfrey shook her head in amazement as she passed Harry a foul smelling potion to drink. “That was quite a nasty spell you took. It should have damaged your internal organs far more than it did.”
Harry winced as he sat up in his bed to take the potion. Once the battle was over and Voldemort lay dead, Harry’s adrenaline had diminished; exhaustion and pain had set in.
“It must be these Chinese symbols,” Harry replied as he took a whiff of the potion and wrinkled his nose. “I’m not sure why though--I thought they only protected our internal organs and bones from physical injury.”
Harry peered questioningly at Hermione who was lying in another bed next to his.
“I’m not sure why either Harry,” Hermione responded with a shrug which made her groan in pain. “All I can think is that they must have made our internal organs extremely resilient.”
“Well, be that as it may, your organs still received a nasty shock, and you’ll still need to drink that potion Mr Potter,” Madam Pomfrey said brusquely. “Come on then, drink up. I need to look after your wife and the others...”
Harry grimaced, then quickly downed the revolting potion so that Madam Pomfrey could move on to her next patient.
“Urgh, that’s horrid...” he gasped.
“Very good Mr Potter,” Pomfrey’s stern features softened and she smiled at him. “One more of those tomorrow and you’ll be as right as rain. You should feel lucky--you might have been drinking that several times a day for a few weeks. You can have a pain potion and a sleeping draught after I’ve given everyone else a look.”
Harry nodded and took a sip of water to rinse the vile taste from his mouth as Madam Pomfrey examined Hermione who had come up black and blue all over.
“Well dear,” said Pomfrey after a moment, “except for some nasty bruising and a few hairline fractures, you seem all in order. Which is incredible after that fall--six floors, my word!”
Hermione peered gratefully and proudly at her husband, “Thanks to Harry and his excellent calligraphy skills...”
“Do Miss Watts and Miss Lovegood also bear these remarkable runes dear?” asked Madam Pomfrey.
“Yeah,” Harry replied, blushing slightly at Hermione’s praise. “I painted them on all of us a few days ago.”
“Then I daresay that you saved everyone’s lives including your own, Mr Potter,” Pomfrey concluded with a very pleased expression. “Misses Watts and Lovegood should be no worse off than Mrs Potter here.”
And with that, Madam Pomfrey waved her wand over Hermione and murmured an incantation which Harry recognised as the one which Gilderoy Lockhart had attempted to use on Harry’s arm in Second Year, much to Harry’s detriment.
Madam Pomfrey’s spell was far more effective of course. Then she passed Hermione a potion for the bruising. Hermione’s furry ears twitched and she sniffed the potion apprehensively.
“Oh, thank goodness! It doesn’t smell as awful as yours Harry,” Hermione glanced apologetically at Harry who grinned at her.
“Right then,” said Madam Pomfrey, “I’ll be back with the pain potions and sleeping draughts in a moment when I’ve finished. You two can share a bed now if you’d like.”
Fleur and Daphne came over to tuck Hermione in with Harry when Madam Pomfrey moved on to Jennifer. Dora was sitting between Harry and Jennifer’s bed, holding Jennifer’s hand. Once she had finished with Jennifer, Madam Pomfrey took care of Luna, who was being cuddled by Parvati.
Finally, Madam Pomfrey gave Neville a soothing potion which immediately eased any lingering inflammation of his nerves caused by the Cruciatus Curse. Then she went to find pain potions and sleeping draughts for everyone.
“Well, that ought to do it for you Longbottom,” Madam Pomfrey said when she returned, “You’re fit to leave now. Though I suggest plenty of rest for you as well... You too Miss Weasley--you look exhausted,” she nodded at Ginny who had been sitting with Neville.
“Here’s a vial of sleeping draught for each of you. I suggest you both take it as soon as possible--though you may eat first if you’re hungry.”
“Thank you Madam Pomfrey,” said Ginny happily. “Can Neville and I visit the others later.”
“Perhaps this evening dear, after all of you have had a good long nap,” Madam Pomfrey assured her with a smile. “Now run along while I finish up with the others.”
“Thanks Madam Pomfrey,” Neville said as he got up. “We’ll come back later then.”

~o0o~

Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape rejoined Hagrid and Sirius at the dungeon entrance. Viktor Krum, McGonagall, and Karkaroff appeared moments later.
“Blimey!” exclaimed Hagrid, “There’s not a ruddy sign o’ the hag anywhere...”
“There must be another secret exit from the castle in the dungeons,” Sirius sighed resignedly. They had been looking for several hours to no avail.
“At least we caught the hooligans who were with her,” sniffed McGonagall. “I have left them with the others being rounded up at the front of the castle.
“Quite!” Dumbledore nodded and sighed too. “Well, there is little else we can do for the moment. We have Bellatrix’s wand and she is injured--and from what young Mr Longbottom told me, we can be certain that she will not be up to any mischief anytime soon. Apparently, he used a cutting curse which is well known to you Severus.”
Snape raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“Really? That is quite a feat for Longbottom,” Severus looked slightly abashed for a moment, then he swallowed and his dark eyes glittered with satisfaction. “He has come a long way indeed from the little boy who was once terrified of his own shadow...”
“Regardless,” Sirius interjected. “We cannot count Bellatrix out. She will bide her time until she heals and finds a new wand. But when she does, she will be seeking revenge--and if Bellatrix should make a pact with the Minister...”
Sirius trailed off, and everyone shuffled uncomfortably at the unsavoury thought. The ruminations of the searchers were interrupted by the appearance of Kingsley Shacklebolt at the dungeon entrance.
“Albus, they are here--Scrimgeour and the Aurors just arrived.”

~o0o~

Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour glanced at the carnage littering the front lawn of Hogwarts as he approached the main entrance of the castle. The Aurors who had arrived with him fanned out to examine the scene. The bodies of the dead and injured were scattered everywhere in the muddy grass: Trolls, Giants, Wizards, Werewolves, and what appeared to be mounds of scorched bones and skeletal remains.
Scrimgeour spied Dawlish approaching and they peered awkwardly at each other.
“Well this is quite a mess John,” said Scrimgeour after a moment. “What happened here?”
“Perhaps you’d better speak to the Headmaster about it Rufus,” Dawlish replied stiffly.
Scrimgeour sighed, “I would like to hear it from you John--can’t you even give me that much? You were my friend once.”
“You know why I left. You should have too...”
“I am loyal to the Ministry,” Scrimgeour snapped.
“What about loyalty to your friends? You remember those don’t you? People that you know you can trust!” Dawlish retorted, growing angry. “Amelia was the best Head of the DMLE the department has ever had and you know it--but you just stood there twiddling your thumbs and let Dolores push her out...”
Scrimgeour didn’t reply; he looked away uncomfortably.
“Why are you still working for that... Toad?” Dawlish continued. “Can you honestly tell me that you trust her?”
Scrimgeour scowled, “I cannot put my feelings before my Duty to the Ministry...”
“Aha! So you do suspect...” said Dawlish.
“What I suspect doesn’t matter,” Scrimgeour replied with a sigh. “There is no evidence... without proof that the Minister is corrupt, it is just rumours and hearsay--Dumbledore’s hearsay I might add!” Scrimgeour scowled again for emphasis.
“You should trust him on this one Rufus--no matter what you think of him personally. Dumbledore is right about Dolores. I’m telling you...” Dawlish peered at Scrimgeour beseechingly. “Just... please, Rufus, you have to open an investigation!”
Scrimgeour stood there silently for several moments, looking pensive. Then he heaved another sigh and spoke again.
“John--I’ll consider it--but I can make no promises. At the moment, I have enough to be getting on with, cleaning up this mess...” Scrimgeour waved his hand at the chaotic tableau and stalked off, up to the castle to find Dumbledore.

~o0o~

Rufus Scrimgeour regarded the Headmaster coldly, who was returning the Head Auror’s gaze with an inscrutable look.
“Voldemort is dead,” Dumbledore said quietly. “And hopefully, this time he will remain dead.”
Scrimgeour raised his eyebrows. “Well that is something I suppose,” he said stiffly. “Do you have proof?”
“His body lies on the lawn with the rest of the dead,” Dumbledore responded, “Voldemort’s severed head was retrieved from the lake and lies with it.”
The Headmaster quieted and regarded the Auror Chief silently for a moment. Dumbledore decided that it would be wisest to leave Harry Potter’s role in the events out of it for the time-being, at least until he was certain where Scrimgeour stood. The Headmaster was surprised to see a hint of satisfaction and relief on Scrimgeour’s visage.
“Good,” Scrimgeour nodded, “Very good indeed! And you’re sure that he’ll stay that way then?”
“Yes,” replied Dumbledore, “At least reasonably so. I shall be able to give you a definitive answer to that question within the next few days...”
“You may also like to know that a number of Death Eaters and numerous other escapees from Azkaban have also met their demise,” Dumbledore continued, “including the Lestrange brothers--though Bellatrix Lestrange unfortunately remains at large. Mcnair is dead, and Crabbe and Goyle are in our custody...”
“Really?” gasped Scrimgeour, his eyes widening, “That is good news then. Colour me impressed Dumbledore. Very well then, I shall do my utmost to ensure that you are given a fair hearing at the Ministry. This is far better than I had imagined...”
Scrimgeour began to feel more and more pleased. This was beginning to look less like a disaster and more like an occasion to be celebrated. Dumbledore saw the gleam in Scrimgeour’s eyes and decided to press his advantage.
“Scrimgeour--Rufus, I beg of you...”
“You wish me to investigate the Minister,” Rufus Scrimgeour swallowed and looked troubled. “I know. John pressed me on the matter--I don’t know what to say. My hands are tied--I have nothing to work with...”
“So you would be willing then if you did?”
Rufus thought for a moment, then he nodded curtly, “Yes, but I shall need somewhere to begin... Albus.”
Dumbledore’s eyes sparkled, “Excellent Rufus! Then perhaps it is time that you met a former colleague of the Minister’s who is currently under my protection. Though she cannot provide you with a smoking gun, Ms Rita Skeeter can provide you with detailed knowledge about the Minister which should set you on the right path.”
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Hermione's Furry Little Problem