Make a Wish | By : NormanCharles Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 117346 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 4 |
Disclaimer: Okay, okay. I'm NOT JK Rowlings, I do not own Harry Potter. I make no money from writing these stories, I do it because it's fun and other people seem to enjoy what I write - the best of whom write review and tell me when I get it right a |
Ch 1 A New Use for that Old Cloak
Fifteen-year-old Harry Potter
writhed within his sweat soaked bedclothes. He was in the throes of yet
another vision. A familiar sultry disembodied voice urged him on.
“Make a wish, baby, what do you
want more than anything in the world?”
Harry’s fevered reply, as always,
was “I want, no, I need. . .”
“What do you need, baby?”
“I – I need . . . arrrrghhh!”
Harry sat bolt-upright in his bed
throwing off his duvet and sheet. He was panting like the time he’d run three
times around the lake to push back his mounting sense of frustration.
His four fifth year dorm-mates
seemed to be having a snoring competition. If so, Ron was winning by a nose. .
.
Grabbing his wand from the
nightstand he whispered “Tempus.”
The image of an ethereal clock
showed one minute past midnight.
“Finite,” he muttered under his
breath, disappearing the time piece.
Harry sighed and got out of bed
clad only in his two-sizes-too-large boxers. A quick, stealthy, visit to his
trunk and he was on his way downstairs, his invisibility cloak wrapped around
his shoulders. Anyone spotting him would have been startled by the apparently
disembodied head floating down the staircase.
“Eeeeeep!”
Harry turned to the sound, his
wand raised.
“Who’s there? Who’s there?” Harry
and another asked simultaneously. Just a minute, he thought, I know
that voice.
“Myrtle?” Harry asked,
incredulously.
“Harry?” the ghost asked timidly.
“Myrtle, what are you doing
here?”
“Um, well, that is to say I, um .
. .”
“I thought you were bound to your
bathroom?”
“Not really, I um, can go
wherever the pipes go . . .”
“Why are you here?”
The little ghost practically
glowed blue. If Harry had been more familiar with all things ectoplasmic he
would have recognized her ghostly blush.
“Um, why are you up? It’s late.”
Harry shrugged, “can’t sleep half
the time, so I come down here to watch the fire.”
“I never sleep,” Myrtle said with
a shrug, “I just float around the castle.”
“Well, enjoy your haunt; I’ll
just be in the common room.”
“Um, Harry, would you . . . like
some company?”
Harry thought about it. Myrtle
had years, no decades, of experience roaming these hallowed halls, and
might be willing to share what she’d learned. Even as he thought it he felt
shame. He couldn’t see himself using someone like that. On the other hand it
would be nice to have someone to talk to on those nights when he couldn’t
sleep.
“Why not?” he said with a grin.
Myrtle smiled and floated just
ahead, leading him to the common room.
Harry settled on the couch, still
wrapped in his cloak so that only his head showed.
“Um, Harry, could you not, I
mean, could you take that silly cloak off please? It’s a little scary just
having your head there and nothing else.”
Scary, he thought, right, a ghost is frightened
by my little illusion.
“But Myrtle,” he hissed, “I’m
only just in my pants!”
The ghost girl rolled her eyes,
“Do you honestly think I haven’t seen any boy in Hogwarts in the
altogether?”
“Myrtle!” Harry sounded shocked,
but couldn’t hide his grin.
“Oh don’t sound so scandalized.
All the ghosts watch. Some have been doing it for hundreds of years.”
She floated close to whisper in
his ear. “Imagine, Harry, if you were a ghost, could you keep yourself from
wandering into the girl’s dorms - or their showers?”
He started to protest that he
wouldn’t but stopped at her raised eyebrow. Then he couldn’t help himself, he
guffawed. The first honest laugh he’d had since the beginning of the term.
“Well, maybe. But it’s hardly
fair. You can see us but we don’t see, um, I mean. . .”
“Harry!” she squeaked, with a
scandalized look that couldn’t quite overcome her outrageous grin. She stared
at Harry intensely, then seemed to come to a decision.
Myrtle giggled and said, “All
right then, fair’s fair.”
She floated to a point between
Harry and the fireplace, then began a slow, suggestive dance, her translucent
hips swaying to music that only she could hear.
“I’ve never done this before, for
anyone so don’t you dare laugh.”
Harry swallowed and assured her,
“never happen.”
She pulled her blouse out of her
skirt and began to unbutton the ethereal shirt one button at a time from the
bottom to the top. Pulling open one side, she revealed one cup of her plain
cotton bra. Then she shrugged the shirt off before placing it on a nearby
chair.
Myrtle looked over her shoulder,
seductively, and winked as she unbuttoned the side of her uniform skirt. She
bent at the waist, faced away from him, and pulled her skirt down over her
knickers clad bum. Stepping out of the skirt, she folded it and placed it next
to her blouse.
Myrtle stood before Harry clad
only in her 1940s style under clothes; high waist white pants and matching bra,
knee socks and Mary Janes.
“Now Mister Potter, your cloak if
you please!”
Harry gulped, he didn’t mind
Myrtle seeing him in his cousin’s boxers, but right now, at this particular
point in time he had a bit of a problem.
“Um . . .”
“Oh I see, you naughty boy,”
Myrtle said with a smirk, “I guess it’s reasonable enough, considering.”
Saying this she reached behind
herself, unhooked her bra and let it fall to the ground.
“Urk?”
Harry had never seen real breasts
before, ghostly or otherwise. True, Myrtle was only an “A” cup, and would be
forever, but her small baps suited her perfectly. This was not helping the
“tent construction” going on under the cloak.
“Now Harry.”
“Ah, Myrtle, y’see it’s just that
. . .”
“What? Can’t I keep my shoes and
socks?”
“Yeah, but . . .”
“What?” Myrtle nearly shouted.
“I’m, um, I mean . . .”
“You’re what?”
Harry groaned and slowly lifted the
invisibility cloak off his torso. It was very obvious what he had been trying
to say as his full mast raised the material of his too-large boxers to an
impressive height.
“Oh.” Myrtle said with a little
start. “That’s um, wow . . .”
She drifted a bit closer leaned
forward and asked, “Is that because of me?”
Harry whimpered and nodded. As
Myrtle leaned forward her pert little breasts seemed to point at Harry's
erection. He noticed that the nipples seemed to crinkle and stiffen as she
inspected his “tent.”
“Does that hurt?” she asked.
“It’s not so much a pain as it’s
a need.”
Saying that Harry remembered why
he was up in the first place.
“Myrtle, that’s why I couldn’t
sleep, I had to have something, to do something.”
“What?”
“I’m not exactly sure, but I
think it has to do with my, um . . .”
“Trouser snake?”
He grinned at that and said,
“yeah.”
The little ghost tentatively
reached out to touch the fleshy pole beneath the “big top,” but drew back
quickly when Harry shuddered and whimpered, “c-cold!”
Myrtle drew back, hurt by his albeit
involuntary rejection. She began to gather her things to leave. The single
silver tear coursing down her face tore at Harry more so than Myrtle’s
incessant moaning. When she turned to leave Harry found his voice, “no, please don’t
go.”
Myrtle sighed, wiped her cheek
with the back of her hand, then looked at Harry, her face resolute, “Why not,
Mister Potter? It’s not like we can have any kind of future together.”
“But we can have a now
together, can’t we?”
Myrtle groaned, “You boys are
really all alike. Just show a flash of knickers and a little boob and you get
all horny.”
“Maybe so, Miss,” he said, trying
to reason with the girl. “But it wasn’t me that started undressing in the
common room.”
Myrtle wanted to huff at that but
her innate sense of fair play didn’t seem to allow it.
“No, you’re right there.”
“B’sides, I didn’t ask you here
just to get you naked, I really just wanted someone to talk to.”
“And now?”
“And now I’d really like
to talk to you, just talk is all.”
“Hmmmmm,” the ghost said, eyeing
the fire, “give me just a tick.”
With that she stepped into the
fire.
“Myrtle!”
“It’s okay, fire can’t hurt me,”
pointing to her chest she said, “ghost, remember?”
Harry watched in fascination as
the ghost’s hue went from blue to white to slightly pink to red. She stepped
out onto the rug, which began to smoke.
“Oops, I stayed in a bit too
long. Better give me a minute, let me know when I’m almost white.”
As her ectoplasm cooled she began
to shift to a more neutral color.
“You’re white again.”
She tentatively placed her
ethereal hand on his arm.
“Still cold?”
“No, not at all.”
She smiled and snuggled against
him, her warmed ectoplasm feeling very comfortable next to his skin.
“Now, where were we?”
“For now, we’re just talking,
like two proper mates, okay?”
“Really?”
“Yep, two really good friends who
just happen to be mostly starkers on the couch in a room where anyone can walk
in on us at any time,” he said with a smirk, “simple really.”
She giggled.
“That’s the Myrtle I know.” He
said with a smile.
“Tell me about yourself.” She
started.
“Oh, not much to tell. Just
listen to everyone here. I’m a dangerous, attention seeking glory hound, heir
to Slytherin, the boy who lived, defeater of basilisks, Tri-wizard champion and
all around handsome guy.”
He had intended to do an
over-the-top “Witches Weekly Most Charming Smile” imitation, worthy of a
Gilderoy Lockhart. But on Harry the effect was, well, bewitching.
Myrtle sighed and Harry’s smile
fell.
“Um, I was just kidding, Myrtle.
Really.”
“Harry, you really don’t have any
idea, do you?”
“About what?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
“Um, okay, but tell me about
yourself. I don’t even know your last name.”
“Malone. Yeah, I see it in your
face, “if only her mum had named her Molly,” I get that a lot.”
“Irish, then?”
“Na, Welch, a course, from Felin-newydd.”
“Was it nice there?”
“It was okay. Mum and Da both
died of a fever when I was six. Wizard’s influenza. Nearly killed me too, but
I lived, as did most of the children of Felin-newydd. We all grew up in a
parish home.” Seeing the look of pity in Harry’s eyes she quickly said, “Oh,
it wasn’t bad. I missed my parents something awful, but I had nine brothers
and sisters and the town sort of adopted all of us. In Wales muggle and magical folk often live side by side so when I started showing accidental
magic the town was thrilled. I was supposed to go off to school, and then go
back to Felin-newydd as a “wise woman,” y’know, the town’s witch.
“I’m afraid it was a bit of a
disappointment when I got myself killed.”
“Not your fault, y’know.” Harry
said, kindly.
“I never did thank you.” She
said.
“What for?”
“For killing the monster that
killed me.”
“Anytime, Miss Malone.”
The sound of footsteps created a
mad scramble on the couch.
“Hello?”
“Here, get under this with me!”
Harry whispered urgently.
Myrtle wrapped herself around
Harry as he covered them both in his invisibility cloak.
Hermione Granger touched the
bottom step and leaned into the room.
“Anyone down here?” she asked.
She scanned the room and
shrugged, heading back up the stair when she stopped, turned around and stared
at something in the middle of the common room floor.
A slightly glowing ghostly bra on
the rug in front of the fire.
As Hermione came down into the
room to investigate Harry felt Myrtle’s hand grip his arm, felt her warm
breasts against his bare back and realized something.
Myrtle’s a ghost.
Beyond a bit of ectoplasmic
tingling I shouldn’t be feeling her at all.
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