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
- 46
- 47
- 48
There had been more tears and hugs when Parvati and Luna were introduced properly to Daphne the previous evening, and everyone had taken dinner together in the Potters’ quarters. After dinner, Daphne had introduced everyone to her sister Astoria, who was attending her first year at Hogwarts. Astoria was torn, as she had many friends among the Slytherin first and second years, and she was having trouble understanding why her sister had left. She had been polite to her sister’s new friends, but it was clear that Astoria had felt uncomfortable around them.
Harry and Hermione sat with the Gryffindors at breakfast as usual, but everything felt different now. Especially as they were receiving many nasty looks from everyone. It felt like Second Year all over again. The Potters moved to the very end of the table so that they could talk quietly without being overheard.
“I wonder if you’ll still be allowed to play on the Gryffindor quidditch team next year.” Hermione murmured.
“I don’t really know,” Harry responded, “I’ll have to ask Professor McGonagall. Though to be honest, right now, I’m more concerned with learning how to fight. And with the classes we’ve got, and all the extra training, I don’t suppose I’d have enough time to do everything anyway. Besides, I’m not so keen to play for a bunch of bloody gits who look like they hate me again.”
Hermione wasn’t sure how to feel about that. She thought quidditch was more than a bit dangerous, and she was pleased that Harry was more interested in his studies now, but she knew how much Harry loved the game, and she wanted him to be happy. It wasn’t right how much of his childhood he’d missed growing up at the Dursleys, and she knew how fun quidditch was for him.
Harry could see Hermione’s mixed feelings on her face. He didn’t want her to feel badly.
“It’s alright Hermione. I can still play for fun in my spare time,” Harry gave her a half-smile and then glanced down the table at Ron, who kept shooting dirty looks at him every so often between shoveling piles of food into his mouth. Harry sighed and continued, “Well, I suppose if Ron ever gets over himself that is...”
Fred and George moved to the end of the table across from Harry, both grinning madly.
“That was brilliant Harry...”
“...we don’t know how you did it...”
“...but we’re behind you all the way.”
“I didn’t put my name in the Goblet,” Harry frowned, “and I really don’t want to be in the tournament.”
The twins’ eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“Oh! Well we believe you, don’t we Fred?” George peered at his brother.
“Of course we do. Harry’s never steered us wrong...” Fred replied.
“...and if it weren’t for him and Hermione...”
“...our little sister would still be possessed by You-know-who...”
“...or worse!”
“Regardless Harry, we still support you...”
“...1,000%!” George concluded.
Neville had finished eating and moved down the table too. He’d heard the entire exchange.
“I support you too Harry, I don’t care what anybody else says,” Hermione’s happily swishing tail caught Neville’s eye, “And thank you Hermione. I’m pretty sure it’s thanks to you that Gran was pleased with me. She took me to Diagon Alley yesterday to get me my own wand. It’s loads easier to use than Dad’s.”
Professor McGonagall had appeared behind Neville, and she smiled to herself. She was pleased that her friend Augusta had finally listened to reason.
“Well Harry,” McGonagall interrupted, “It is time for the Weighing of the Wands and for the Champions to meet the Press. If you’ll excuse us everyone, I must take your Champion away for a short while.” Seeing Hermione’s anxious face the Professor added, “Yes, Mrs Potter, you may join your husband.”
A small classroom had been commandeered for the wand weighing and the photoshoot. Viktor Krum and Cedric Diggory both scowled when Harry entered the room with Hermione. But Fleur’s face lit up when she saw them both. Mr Ollivander appeared thrilled to see Harry again, and he spent the most time examining and admiring Harry’s wand.
Bagman, Crouch, Dawlish, Tonks, and McGonagall all looked on as the weighing was performed and the photos were taken.
After the photoshoot was completed, a buxom woman with heavy makeup and brassy hair done up in stiff curls approached Harry. Hermione gave a little hiss, but tried valiantly to refrain from clawing the woman’s eyes out.
“Well, well, the Youngest Champion,” she said with a treacly voice, “I’m Rita Skeeter, reporter for the Daily Prophet. I don’t suppose you’d mind giving us an interview for the Daily Prophet’s readers, would you deary?”
Harry could feel Hermione bristling next to him, and he knew the reporter was trouble.
“I suppose,” Harry responded stiffly. The woman glanced over at the broom closet, but seeing Hermione firmly attached to Harry’s arm, she thought better of it. Her eyes narrowed shrewdly, and she sat down at a nearby desk instead.
“Lovely!” she said with a toothy grin which reminded Harry of a crocodile, “Well then, let’s get to it shall we?” She put a notebook on the desk, and a quill began scribbling by itself.
“So Harry...”
“Mr Potter! You can call me Mr Potter. Only my friends call me Harry.”
Skeeter’s eyes narrowed even more, and her smile stiffened.
“Of course, my apologies Mr Potter... So, what made you decide to enter the tournament?”
“I didn’t. Someone else entered my name without my approval. But I don’t know who.”
Rita looked incredulous.
“Come now Ha.. Mr Potter. Everyone loves a rebel. You can tell us the truth.”
“I just did.”
The quill darted across the page, but Harry ignored it. Rita shifted uncomfortably and decided to try another tack.
“So Mr Potter, how do you think your parents would feel about their 11 year old son participating in such a dangerous tournament? Proud? Worried?”
It was Harry’s turn to look disbelieving. Was this woman irreparably brain damaged? Did she have a dreadful research department? Or was she just trying to get a rise out of him? Judging by the way Hermione’s grip tightened on his arm, and from her increasingly bristly tail, he thought that perhaps it was the latter.
“I’m 13,” Harry said coldly, “And this interview is over!”
Harry stood up abruptly, and without another word, he and Hermione stalked out of the classroom leaving a dumbfounded audience in their wake. Professor McGonagall appeared distraught, and Tonks shot daggers with her eyes at Rita Skeeter.
Harry felt as agitated as he had all day Friday, but he had no desire to go on the grounds of Hogwarts again, so he just strode around the castle, looking for a new place to hide from everyone. Hermione curled her fluffy tail around Harry and kept pace silently beside him. They were on the 7th floor when he realised he was lost in a bit of the castle he’d never seen before.
Harry paced back and forth several times as his wife looked on anxiously. Hermione’s breath caught and she pointed at the wall where a door had just magically appeared. They both shared a look. Harry raised his eyebrows questioningly and Hermione shrugged.
In great trepidation, the two young wizards slowly opened the door. They both gasped in awe at the sight they beheld: a cavernous room full of all manner of items from the mundane to the strange. Empty bottles of sherry, ancient broken pieces of furniture, fanged frisbees, statues, self-slinging slingshots, half-covered paintings, far too many things to catalogue in a month of Sundays.
Hermione’s fur stood all on end again when she felt a very familiar sensation, and her stomach clenched
“Harry, I think there’s a Horcrux in this room,” she said, breaking the lengthy silence between them.
Harry jerked in astonishment.
“Really?” His breath quickened, “Can you tell where it is Hermione?” Harry asked, his heart pounding in his ears.
“I... I think so Harry. The feeling will get stronger as I get near it.”
Hermione led Harry up and down and all around, through aisles of centuries’ worth of detritus. Finally she stopped and stared at a crumbling stone bust wearing a decayed auburn wig. Perched on the wig was a gleaming Tiara.
“The Tiara Harry,” Hermione whispered, “The Tiara is the Horcrux.”
With shaking hands, Harry lifted the Tiara from the bust and carefully stowed it in his robes.
“We’d better get this to Dumbledore immediately Hermione.” Harry didn’t know why they were both whispering. It just seemed like the thing to do.
In short time, they managed to find their way out of the room, and back to the main part of the castle. Quickly, they made their way to the doorway leading to Dumbledore’s office.
“Fizzing Whizbee” Harry wheezed. The door opened, and the two young wizards ran up the spiral staircase. Harry knocked on the door.
“Ah! Harry, excellent timing,” said Dumbledore with a twinkle when the door opened. “I take it you recall Alastor Moody--the REAL Alastor Moody?”
Harry and Hermione glanced at the disfigured semi-retired Auror without any fanfare. They didn’t really have time for fresh introductions.
“I’m sorry Professor, but this is urgent. I think you’ll need the Sword of Gryffindor for this!” Harry gasped as he held out the glittering diadem.
Mad Eye’s glass eye stopped spinning and his jaw dropped. Professor Dumbledore shot up from his seat, pulled off his spectacles, wiped them on his robes, and put them back on again. His eyes bulged. He wiped his specs again, just to be sure.
“Merlin’s saggy balls!” sputtered Mad Eye, “Is that what I think it is Albus?”
“Why yes Alastor! I do believe so--The Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw. And if I’m not mistaken, our two young heroes have just discovered yet another of Tom Riddle’s Horcruxes.”
The Headmaster took the Sword of Gryffindor from its perch.
“Stand back everyone. This could be a bit...violent.”
Dumbledore placed the Diadem in the centre of the floor and swung the Sword. It struck the Horcrux and a ghastly shriek echoed as it had before. All the lights flickered and a turbulent wind blew papers from shelves and Dumbledore’s desk, and sent delicate instruments clattering to the floor. After a few minutes the howling tempest came to an end, and an oozing pustulant black venom bled from the shattered crown.
Nobody moved. The four wizards just stared at the dead Horcrux for a few moments.
Then Dumbledore went back to his desk, and from a drawer, he pulled out a bottle of Ogden’s Finest Firewhiskey with trembling hands.
“Well, normally I wouldn’t offer this to third year students, but I think we could all use a sip of this right about now!”
- 46
- 47
- 48
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Hermione's Furry Little Problem