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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“They want Harry to give them a grandchild?...” Daphne clapped her hand to her mouth and squeaked, reddening in sympathy with Harry and Dora when Jennifer and Hermione regaled the rest of the Coven with the outcome of their visit to meet Dora’s parents. “I’ve always thought it would be nice to have a baby someday myself, b...but, we’re too young...”

“Of course we’re too young--but they’re perfectly aware...” Hermione smiled and flicked her furry ears reassuringly at Daphne.

“That’s definitely what Mum and Dad were fussin’ about the most to begin with anyway,” moaned Dora. “...Practically accused me of cradle-robbing! They didn’t seem quite so bothered after Harry promised them that ‘e loved me very much!”

Harry rubbed his crimson face with both hands, groaning, unable to meet anyone’s eyes. Luna and Parvati were both giggling, their furry tails swishing mirthfully, and Fleur tried her best not to smirk. Daphne was looking at him with new eyes, clearly imagining him as a father. Harry began to wonder if any of the other parents were having similar hopeful ideas, given that their daughters seemed to be more enamoured of girls for the most part.

“But I really don’t think we need worry about it at the moment,” Hermione insisted. “They’ll be quite alright with waiting, Dora!”

“I ‘ope you’re right, Hermione...” Dora muttered. “I don’t have anything against kids--but I never really gave much thought to ‘aving one myself! I never really thought of myself as the ‘Mum’ type.”

“It would be nice to have a baby though some day,” said Luna dreamily, glancing at Parvati who blushed in response. “Parvati and I were thinking it would be nice if you didn’t mind us having one with Harry eventually, Hermione.”

Harry began to look around desperately for an exit, but Hermione was sitting on his lap with her bushy ginger tail curled around him. He sighed in resignation, and buried his blazing face in Hermione’s golden-brown tresses.

Truthfully, Harry thought it would be really nice to have kids one day with Hermione himself... one day in the far flung future... maybe in their late 20’s or early 30’s. But he certainly hadn’t given a great deal of thought to it until now, and had been very glad for the effectiveness of Contraception Charms. Harry hadn’t really considered that any of the other girls might actually be interested in having his baby as well.

“I’m sorry guys!” Parvati peered apologetically at Harry and Hermione, her sleek black tail twitching. “Luna and I weren’t planning to broach the topic until much, much later--well after we’re all finished with Hogwarts”

“There’s nothing to apologise for Parvati,” Hermione beamed radiantly. “I think that’s a lovely idea for the future. We’re a family after all...”

“Oui, Hermione! Zat we are!” Fleur nodded. Leaning over the back of the armchair and wrapping her arms around both Potters, she kissed Harry’s burning cheek. “Chéri, please do not worry so. There ees much time before that day comes...”

“And there’s plenty of us to look after the children when it happens, Dora,” added Jennifer with a grin. “We’ll all be their mummies!”

~o0o~
As a flash of lightning lit up the rainy gathering dusk, the small group of wet witches and wizards cautiously approached the dark, unlit cottage at the end of the oak-lined road, wands at the ready. A wizard with shaggy dreadlocks glanced around worriedly before turning the handle of the front door. It swung open with a creak, revealing only silent darkness.
“Mum,” called out the wizard in a slightly panicky voice, “...are...are you there? It’s only us--you can come out...”

A middle-aged witch with streaks of white in her curly black hair slowly emerged from the kitchen with her muggle husband, both of them letting out sighs of relief.

“Joseph! Thank goodness you’re safe...” The witch lowered her wand when it was apparent that it was her own son and some of their neighbours.

“I’ve just been round at Mrs Dolittle’s--Eleanor's--she’s been looking after some of the muggleborn. We’ve been goin’ around town looking for the rest of them, and there’s a few of us gathered at her house for a meeting...”

“Good!” The witch nodded, her features hardening. “It’s about bloody time we pulled together and did something... Dumbledore and his lot can’t do this all by themselves.”

Apparition cracks and screams caught the ears of everyone gathered near the hallway, and they all ran to the front door in alarm. Several figures in long black trenchcoats loomed over two prone figures on the wet pavement, ignoring the rain and pointing their wands at the group emerging from the cottage. A few more stood nearby, their faces stony and grim.

Joseph’s heart caught in his throat, regretting now that he had allowed his wife to keep watch along with one of the other neighbours. The small congregation of wizards in the doorway faced off nervously against the Aurors, their own wands aiming right back.

“Cease and Desist! Drop your wands immediately!” shouted one of the Aurors. “Things will go much easier for you if you just hand over the mudbloods and submit yourselves for confirmation of blood status. Don’t force us to use Unforgivables...”

“That’s my wife!” Joseph roared at the Aurors. “What’ve you done to her? ... You Bloody Bastards!”

The lead Auror narrowed his eyes at the dreadlocked young upstart. The darkening street lit up in a myriad of colours; jets of magic flew, bursting and sparking as spells ricocheted. Two of the defenders fell, dropped by stunning spells. A car exploded and an oak-tree burst into flame when those still standing returned fire, missing the dodging Aurors.

Terrified muggles peeked through their windows as the battle raged outside. A streetlamp jumped into the fray, knocking down one of the defending wizards with a sickening sound of breaking bones. A bush extended its limbs to capture the Auror who had animated the street-lamp, but the Auror wriggled away, leaving her trenchcoat in the clutches of the foliage.

“You lot asked for this,” snarled the lead Auror as he fired a bolt of green lightning, scattering the group.

Of the defending wizards, only Joseph had both enough rage, and the skill necessary to retaliate in kind. But the others were at least skilled enough in Charms to keep up while managing to dodge the Aurors’ killing curses. More spells flew through the rain which had turned into a downpour. One of the Aurors crumpled when Joseph’s killing curse struck him.

Taking a leaf from the book of their attackers, a defender aimed his wand at another streetlamp. The lamp coiled itself around an Auror and began to squeeze; forcing him to apparate to safety before being crushed. A Volkswagen van came to life and chased one of the other Aurors down the road.

Realising that they were outnumbered, and that the halfblood traitors and the mudbloods were no-longer too frightened to resist, the lead Auror yelled at the others to retreat.

“I hope you’re satisfied!” he barked at Joseph. “We’ll see how well you lot do when we return with reinforcements!” the lead Auror snarled before disapparating.

When it was all over, Joseph was beside himself with joy to find his soggy wife was recovering from the stunning spell, looking none the worse for wear, and that his mum had made it through the battle unscathed.

But as a number of shocked muggles opened their doors and spilled into their front yards for a better look, Joseph’s heart fell when he realised that one of his best friends was dead in a puddle, bashed by the first rampaging streetlamp. Gritting his teeth, blinking back tears, Joseph took savage solace in the fact that he had killed one of the Aurors.

Furiously, as rivulets of water streamed from the ends of his saturated dreadlocks, Joseph determined that he would be ready to take out some more Aurors when they returned, no doubt augmented with a phalanx of Snatchers. Hopefully he’d have enough time to train up some of the other Puddleby wizards a bit with proper fighting spells.

~o0o~
He hadn’t even had time for breakfast yet, but the Prime Minister was already swirling brandy in his snifter as he peered out of the rain-streaked window of an upper-level office in Number 10 Downing Street, a pensive expression on his features. His future was inextricably tied to Minister Umbridge’s, having benefited greatly from their collaboration in more ways than one.
His grip on political power in non-magical Britain was stronger than any Prime Minister’s since Thatcher--the privatisation of huge swaths of the NHS and other public institutions was progressing apace. His enemies in the opposition party were cowed--not to mention Unions smashed, whistleblowing hackers trapped in foreign embassies, students and minority ethnic groups in disarray, immigrants in hiding--all terrified of clandestine reprisals while the general public clamoured for ever more security to protect them from Terrorism and the “contagious” Walking Dead.

The Bankers had never been happier; London had reached new heights of power in the past year, becoming the Global Centre of Finance under the Prime Minister’s watch for the first time in nearly a century. They were on the verge of restoring the British Empire to its former glory--this time without paying any heed to the Royals; the current batch were too soft to sanction the necessary extreme measures.

And the Prime Minister’s own personal fortunes had grown immensely--not to mention the magically secured cells in the secret basement of Number 10 full of his private playthings, upon whom he could indulge his darkest proclivities without fear of discovery or retribution. And he owed it all to Minister Umbridge.

Yet he could not deny that everything was teetering precariously on the edge of a precipice. The Prime Minister swallowed his brandy with one gulp. Jaw set in steely resolve, he returned his gaze to the Minister of Magic.

“Yes!” the Prime Minister nodded. “I concur...”

“It simply won’t do, Dolores,” he continued softly, “...these rebels you speak of could destroy everything we have worked so hard for. Do whatever you believe is necessary. If some non-magical communities get caught up in the net you cast for the ‘muggleborn,’ then so be it. Make an example of them if you must.”

“Thank you dear!” Dolores Umbridge replied, her voice dripping with treacle. “I had hoped to keep the disruption of muggle lives to a bare minimum, confined to only the smallest mixed communities. But Order must be restored, and the recalcitrant simply must be punished...”

“Indeed,” the Prime Minister agreed wryly. “In any case, as long as those that I serve continue to profit by our arrangement and remain unharmed, the loss of a few Lesser ‘muggles’ is hardly worth consideration. To my mind, and the minds of my constituents, such losses are simply a calculated cost of doing business--you can’t make an omelette without breaking a few eggs after all.”

Dolores chuckled and raised her own brandy glass, reassured that her alliance was still solid, even in the face of expanding her reach to quell the insurrection. She drained it quickly and after making a few more hurried arrangements with the Prime Minister, Dolores bid her muggle counterpart good-day before stepping into the green flames in the hearth.

~o0o~
“How long will transport to Puddleby take then?” asked the Minister, pursing her lips. Bellatrix Lestrange considered the question for a moment, calculating in her head.
“Well Dolores,” Bellatrix finally responded, “...given the number of units required for the task, the numbers currently available at our two remaining facilities in Britain--tapping the facility in Northern Ireland will be logistically unfeasible--and with all available personnel on hand with portkeys, I believe I can have a horde in place by eight this evening. Though I will have to empty more than a few muggle graveyards as well to bring the numbers up.”

“Excellent!” Dolores nodded brusquely. “This uprising simply cannot stand. And I have no wish to waste anymore Ministry lives on the matter. The Unspeakables and Aurors will be taking a hands off approach, despite the size of the town.

“The Prime Minister assures me that he will provide the personnel and the incendiary devices to mop up with extreme prejudice. If Dumbledore learns of the operation, I’d like to see him try and stop this one. If he dares to show up, he’ll end up facing the muggle military, and put himself under the ICW’s spotlight.”

“What about Potter and Dumbledore’s Secret Weapon?” Bellatrix pointedly asked, raising an eyebrow.

“A calculated risk!” Dolores replied, her expression sour. “Potter hasn’t been seen since he left Hogwarts--except during the retaking, in which he and his friends participated with the full backing of Dumbledore's people. I seriously doubt that Potter and his little friends destroyed the compound in Wales--I have it on good authority that he is quite squeamish about killing indiscriminately.

“And it is highly unlikely that Potter has the skillset required to pull off the rescue of Arthur Weasley without leaving any trace whatsoever of entry at the Ministry, given his age--only a supremely skilled wizard with years of experience could have managed it. I suspect Dumbledore has Potter hidden safely away, and that he and his own forces took on the tasks.”

“Hmmm...” purred Bellatrix, “I wouldn’t count him out, Dolores! It doesn’t pay to underestimate Potter--as the Dark Lord discovered, much to his detriment.”

“Yes! I quite see your point Bellatrix,” Dolores frowned, sighing. “Regardless. Potter can’t be everywhere at once, and given the layout of Puddleby, even if he shows up with Dumbledore’s Secret Weapon, the Inferi will be too spread out--they won’t all be amassing in one spot conveniently for him, as they did at Hogwarts.

“And even if he does manage to destroy many of them, he and Dumbledore will nonetheless be in quite a pickle when the muggle military show up to quell the Inferi with missiles and incendiary weapons...”

~o0o~
A delectable sensation infiltrated Harry’s dreams, and he knew that someone was engaged in a wake-up call. The Coven had gone out of their way the night before to comfort Harry and Dora after their stressful afternoon, and they had all finally passed out in a sticky naked heap after rocking the manor a number of times.
When Harry’s eyelids finally fluttered open, it was Hermione’s golden-brown coils of hair--furry ears poking through--which he spied strewn across his abdomen as her head bobbed up and down his erection while Daphne and Fleur cuddled and kissed him. With a groan, Harry’s dam burst, releasing a flood of semen into Hermione's throat.

“Good Morning Harry,” Hermione grinned, licking her lips when she had finished. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah, loads...” chortled Harry.

He parted Hermione’s knees to return the favour, lavishing her sopping entrance with his tongue, plunging it into her twitching sheath. He had just brought Hermione to completion, her quaking thighs still clenching his head as she let out a long yowl of ecstatic bliss, when Dora entered the room in a bathrobe and a towel wrapped her head, drinking a glass of orange juice.

“Oi, Harry... sorry to interrupt.” Dora grimaced apologetically as Harry lifted his head from between Hermione’s naked thighs, his face dripping. “...Message from Dumbledore on the mirror. Apparently a few of our friends at Hogwarts are missing us, and are hoping that we’ll show up to celebrate Halloween with them this afternoon.”

At first thought, the idea sounded brilliant to Harry. So why did he suddenly have an ominous feeling that something was going to spoil it?

Hermione couldn’t help sobering quickly when she picked up on Harry’s sudden sensation of foreboding, and his questioning stance.

“I know Harry...” Hermione embraced him and kissed him on the cheek. “Something always seems to go wrong on Halloween. First Year it was the Troll...”

“...and Second Year the Chamber of Secrets was opened...” groaned Harry.

“...and then last year your name came out of the Goblet of Fire,” Hermione concluded with a sigh.

“But seriously Harry, the odds of something dreadful happening to us on Halloween four years in a row would have to be astronomical...” Hermione trailed off when Harry raised his eyebrows at her. “...So of course something’s going happen!” she finished with another sigh.
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Hermione's Furry Little Problem