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Stories that, for one reason or another, I've decided to abandon.

The station had not changed since Harry was a child.   Kids still ran and laughed, their high voices sharing summer experiences with newly reacquainted friends.   Parents still tried to get their children to behave, while they loaded trunks onto the old steam train.

Ginny was with the rest of her family at the other end of the platform, corralling their cubs with ease.

He paused for a second to watch her, the way she moved, the way the sunlight seemed to stick to her white t-shirt, as if it felt it would be a crime to let it go.   She looked calm, a little too calm for his liking.   Obviously being with the kids had turned down the fires he had been stoking all day — and it was something he didn’t share.  

His method of travel meant that he had been forced to arrive a few minutes away from the station, but it was still preferable to using one of those damnable Portkeys.

He walked slowly through the crowd, keeping careful control of his magic.   It had been something he learnt a long time ago - how to hold his magic close to him, so that it acted like an invisible barrier.  

The parents and children in front of him parted without realising it, their subconscious recognising that someone much stronger walked among them.   Some glanced at him, as if assessing him and recognising him as Harry Potter, the hero of the Wizarding world, some of them bowed or offered respect.

It was almost feudal in a way, but he preferred it to the other way.   The other way was worse, as he had found when he had first started dating Ginny.  

He’d been out, shopping for a gift for her, when people had started crowding him, touching him and praising him for killing Voldemort.   They wouldn’t let him get away, no matter how politely he had asked — they demanded more and more of his time, as if he owed them in some way.

It had been the last time.   Since then he had practised at home to give himself an air of slight danger; not on a conscious level, but below that, so that they wouldn’t approach him.

He had presumed that it would kill his popularity — almost make him a pariah, as people would think him arrogant and offensive.   But it hadn’t.   To the contrary, it had enhanced his reputation.   People knew that he was among them, and they believed that as long as they were good, he would never come for them.

He had been a little saddened to learn that his name was used to keep small children in check — that Harry Potter might come after them if they weren’t good, but in the end, had decided that it was for the best.   If people were going to behave because of him, all the better.   It meant there was a smaller chance of someone like Voldemort returning, and gaining supporters.

He looked up and met the amused smile of his wife.   She was never affected by his power — he knew that she actually liked it and encouraged him to use it more often.   This gave him an idea for later: using his magic while making love to her, seeing how much he could make her vibrate.

"Hey," he said in greeting, as he arrived by her side.

"You’re just in time," she smiled.  "Can you get these trunks on the train? I swear that our cubs have packed their entire room."

Harry smiled and nodded at the trunks.   The trunks raised themselves into the air and entered the carriages.  

"Thanks, love," Ginny smiled and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek.   "They’re inside," she said, nodding towards the train.   "They’ll be back out to say goodbye shortly."

Harry nodded.   "Your heart rate’s gone back down," he whispered, as he slid behind her and cuddled her to his chest.   "Your cheeks have lost their colour," he continued, before inhaling slowly.   "And you don’t smell as aroused."

He felt her against his chest, frozen, and knew she was listening.   She knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t just be talking idly.

"I’m going to have to do something about that," he whispered, blowing his breath across her ear.   Despite their lack of adventure, they couldn’t escape learning a few things about each other in their many years of marriage.   "I’m getting very good at illusions," he continued, almost drawling now.  "I could raise your skirt, and no one but you and I would know.   I could undo my trousers, and believe me; I’m hard and want you so badly.   I could bend you over slightly, and slide myself deep inside you.

"But the illusion would stop there.   Everyone would be able to see your face, as you struggle to talk to your family and friends, with me sliding slowly in and out of you.   You’ll be flushed, breathing hard — but all anyone would see is that we are standing together, perfectly decently."

He took a deep breath, and subtly ground himself against her arse.   "Can you feel that I want you so badly?"

She shuddered hard in his arms, and he could see the flush returning to her cheeks.   He inhaled sharply, and smiled in a self satisfied way.   She was as aroused as he was again.

Ginny turned in his arms, her eyes flashing.   "You git," she whispered, as she gave him what looked like a loving hug.   "But you’re not the only one who can do those charms these days.   I’ve already said goodbye to our cubs, so no one would care if I vanished. I could even make an excuse about needing the bathroom.  

"I can make myself invisible, and we both know that there are only two people who can see through that spell; you and Albus.   And Albus is at Hogwarts.   I’ll get on my knees in front of you, Harry.   And I’ll make it look like you are standing as you always do, as I open your trousers and bring you out.   And I’ll look up at you, as I worship you with my mouth and tongue, showing you the pleasure I get from making you feel like you’re the king of the world.

"And you’ll be able to see as I use one of my hands to play with myself, getting my fingers wet with the passion you’ve created.   And then we’ll see you talk to my mother and father, as you tell them I got called away, while I’m sucking your cock.   You can say goodbye to Jamie and Sami while all you can think about it is my head bobbing back and forth over your diamond-hard erection."

He’d almost forgotten to breathe, as she turned around again and deliberately pressed her bum against him.  

It took almost all of his willpower not to Apparate them both home immediately, and ignore the damage it would do to the wards around the station.

"You don’t have to look so sad, Mum," a voice chimed.   "We’ll only be gone till Christmas."

"We know, Jamie," Harry smiled at his son.   He was grateful that James had mistaken his wife’s flushed appearance for sadness.   "We’ll be fine."

"You just enjoy Hogwarts," Ginny said.

Harry dropped to one knee, the practical nature of his arousal ensuring that he had to be careful, and embraced Jamie, and as she arrived, Sami.

"Remember," he said sternly.   "Uphold the family name, have a good time, and it’s Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall, not Uncle Albus and Aunt Min."

"We’ll be good," they promised in unison.  

"I know," he smiled.   "You both remember the spell? And the letter for Snape?"

"Yes, Dad," they parroted.

"Now, get on the train and have a good time.   We’ll see you at Christmas."

"We will, Dad," they said again, and with a quick hug for their mother, they vanished.

The scene was repeated all along the platform, as various Weasley parents said goodbye to various red-haired children, before the parents joined Harry and Ginny at the end of the platform.

"Please, Dennis," Fred said.   "For the sake of our family name, play at least one prank this year."

"But Dad," the smartly dressed fifteen year old replied.   "I’m a prefect, I can’t be doing that."

"I know, and it rends my heart.   A son of mine, a prefect."   Fred playacted a tear running down his face.

"But…"  

"No buts," George agreed.   "Just one prank; you’re the son of one of the Weasley Twins, you have a tradition to keep up."

"Okay," the boy sighed.   "Just one."

"Excellent," Fred smiled and handed him two packages.   "The second one is for Jamie and Sami; it’ll swap their hair colour."

"Fred!" Ginny shouted, sounding mad.

"Quick," George said, pushing Dennis on to the train.

The teenager grinned and saluted.


"Here," Dennis said, as he popped his head into the carriage that most of the Weasley family were sharing.   "It’s a present from Dad and Uncle George."

"Thanks," Jamie said, looking at the package suspiciously.   "What does it do?"

"If you and Sami take it, it’ll change your hair colour."

"Cool," Sami grinned, putting it in her pocket.   "I wonder if it would fool Dad."

"I’ll see you lot later," Dennis smiled, and vanished out the door.   He walked down the carriageway and stopped into a carriage near the back.

"Hey," he smiled, dropping a kiss on the cheek of the short, black-haired girl that occupied it.

"Hey sweetie," she replied.   "What took you so long?"

"Dad and my uncle were trying to get me to play a prank."

"Don’t you think it’s time you admitted that you’re the biggest prankster in the school — you’re just good at not getting caught?"

"Nope," he smiled.   "Do you want to tell your mum you’re dating both a Gryffindor and a Weasley?"

Grace Parkinson smiled and shook her head.   "Not yet."


Fred turned to George and smirked.   "Do you think we should tell him that we know that he’s as big a prankster as we are — and that we’ve covered for him more times that he can count?"

"Nah," George replied with a grin.   "Let him think he’s getting one up on us for now.   Besides, him dating Pansy’s kid makes it even more interesting."

"You two are evil," Molly scolded.

"Yes," they agreed as one.   "We are.   We also need to get back to the shop.   We’ll see you guys later?"

There was a sea of nods from the numerous Weasley parents.   Fred and George wrapped their arms around their wives, and they walked off together.

"So, who’s coming back to our place?" Molly asked.

"We are," Ron said, his youngest in his arms, Hermione standing next to him.

"Us too," Fleur, and Bill, said.

"We need to get home," Harry sighed.   "We’ve got a load of paint arriving shortly, so we can redecorate the study."

"Paint?" Arthur asked, his eyes alight.

"Yeah," Harry said slowly, suddenly realising he’d made a tactical mistake in his excuse.

"Oh no you don’t, Arthur Weasley," Molly interrupted — and Harry could have kissed her.   "You’re not running out on your grandchildren."

"Of course not," Arthur agreed cheerfully.

"Don’t worry Dad," Ginny smiled.   "We’re doing the living room in a few weeks," she continued.   "You can help out then."

"Wonderful."   He smiled enthusiastically.

Harry reached out, passing a Portkey that appeared in his hands to the rest of the family.

"We’ll see you later," Harry smiled, noticing again the slight envy in Hermione’s eyes, and he realised that he was still transparent to his friend.

As they moved past the wards, Harry grabbed Ginny and Apparated them both home.

Ginny took a step away from him and turned, facing him.

He gulped; he’d never seen that look in her eyes before.   They were burning, looking at him with the result of everything they’d gone through today.   He’d awakened a sleeping lion, and he couldn’t wait to deal with the consequences.

"So," Ginny purred.   "Home.   Alone."

Harry nodded, his throat suddenly tight.

"What are you waiting for?" she asked.

He moved, forwards, and she seemed to flow in to his arms, and they kissed.   Throughout their marriage, they had kissed thousands of times.   Deep kisses, passionate kisses, soft kisses, and loving kisses.

But nothing like this.

Nothing that had grabbed at his soul and tugged it towards her.

Nothing that had made him feel like he was kissing a living flame.

For the first time, he released his mental barriers, his misgivings, everything, and kissed her back with everything that was inside him.

He slid his hands up into her hair, the soft hair that resembled the fire she was awakening in him, and held her head still.   He kissed her back, as forcefully as he could, and pushed his tongue against her teeth.   This was no soft entreaty, no gentle request.   He demanded access to her mouth and he gasped as she instantly granted it.

As forceful as he was being, he was being matched by her.   Her tongue was everywhere over his, her nails were digging into his back and she was pushing herself as close to him as possible.

She broke the kiss, panting hard, and her hands slid down, to his belt.   She fumbled with it, and then with a feral growl, she released it, and pulled it hard out of the loops.   She threw the belt into one corner of the kitchen, and shoved his jeans down.   Without ceremony, she grabbed him through his boxers, and gave him a quick squeeze.

He couldn’t help moaning, and suddenly realised just how close he was - that the teasing had really gotten to him.

She pushed down his shorts as well, and lightly stroked him.   "I want you, now."

He gulped and looked down as she pulled up her denim skirt a bit.  

"Help me out," she demanded.

"Are you…"

"Damn it, Harry," she swore.   "You’ve got me hotter than in nearly twenty years of marriage.   Yes, I’m bloody ready."

He reached down and grasped the now-naked skin of her arse, and lifted her in the air.   She was still as light as a feather to him.  

She pushed a hand down between him, and grabbed him intimately.   She leaned back, her other arm around his neck, and pushed herself forwards, so that he was brushing against her entrance.

Ginny released her hand, and moved it around his neck.   "Hard, Harry, please."

He couldn’t think of anything but the heat surrounding the tip of him, and the overwhelming desire to have that heat all around him.   He pushed his hips forwards, and pulled his arm in, and with a groan from both of them, sunk completely inside her.   She was tight, hot, smooth, and wet.   They hadn’t had sex for weeks, letting the tension build between them, and he could tell now.

He looked around desperately and saw the washing machine in the corner.   It was waiting to be fitted; with the kids going to school, he hadn’t had chance to arrange for a Muggle plumber yet.

He shuffled over there, each movement sliding him a little in and out of his wife, and felt her legs tighten around his hips.   He lowered her so that she was perched on the edge machine, and paused.   He kissed her deeply, a hot, wet, open-mouthed kiss, as passionate as he could make it.   He wanted to consume her, to be consumed by her.

"Ready?" he gasped.

She smiled, and leant back a little, throwing her hair back so it fell in a straight line down.   The look on her face was new, and he wanted to keep it and destroy it at the same time — destroy it and replace it with something else.

He pulled back slowly, till he was barely inside her, before pushing forwards hard, slamming into her.   He stopped, checking her reaction, making sure he hadn’t hurt her.

She reached up and grabbed him by his collar, pulling him down.   It was his turn to be consumed as her smaller tongue ravaged his mouth.   "Stop worrying," she panted against his lips, breaking the kiss.   "Let go, please."

He did, completely.   He allowed his instincts to roam free and pushed into her hard.   As his hips slammed into her, she groaned in pleasure, and he repeated, forcing himself as deep and as hard into her as he could.   He dropped his hands to her hips, holding her on the edge, so that she couldn’t escape.

Her head lolled back, and each thrust forced a groan out of her, and the faster he moved, the more she groaned.

"Harder," she demanded, her legs locking around him, encouraging him.

"I’m not going to last," he groaned.   He’d never felt this way and couldn’t have stopped if Voldemort had been resurrected next to him.

"Don’t," she replied, propping herself up with one hand, the other moving between them, and caressing her breast roughly through her t-shirt.

His mind was blank.   He’d never seen her touch herself before, and the sight blew his mind.   His hips rocketed back and forth, as he tried to bury himself in her.

She was moaning now, incoherent sounds of pleasure, as her head swung from side to side.

Suddenly she clenched around him, her legs locking him against her, and screamed.

He could feel every convulsion up and down the length of his penis, and he couldn’t stop any more.   With a groan, he grabbed her hips, desperately trying to get further inside her, and let himself go.

He felt himself explode into her, like he was pouring his soul deep inside her, and he collapsed down on top of her.

She cradled him, lowering them both down on to the top of the washing machine.   He could hear her panting against him.

Still inside her, he forced himself to move and kissed her softly.   "I love you," he whispered into her mouth.

"I love you too, sweetheart," she replied breathlessly, stroking his back slowly.   She exhaled slowly, and shot him an amazingly bright smile.

"I want you to do that every time," she said softly, one hand reaching up to brush back one of his locks of hair.

"Do what?" he asked, breathing as hard as he did.

"Let go," she explained.

"Huh?"

"You’ve been holding back," she explained softly.   Her arms tightened around him, so he couldn’t have retreated, even if he’d wanted to.   "I know you’ve been trying to make it good for me, all this time, and I love you for that.   But I want more."

"More?"

"I want your soul, Harry.   I want to feel like you’ve lost control, that everything inside you has been given to me.   Now that you’ve done it and given it to me, I won’t accept anything less."

"But…"

"No, no buts.   I don’t care if you last ten seconds or ten hours.   Sex is as much about emotion as it is about pleasure.   I came once just now, with you out of control, and it meant more to me than a thousand other times."

"I could…"

"No, you couldn’t, and you know it.   Sure, there might be a little pain, so what? I’ve given birth; you’re not going to come close to that.   And sometimes, a little pain can give a nice thrill.   You are not going to really hurt me, Harry, not even if you lose every ounce of control.   I trust you, and I love you more than anything and anyone.   You’ve given me so much in my life.   You’ve given me my life, my happiness, two beautiful children, a beautiful house, support when I needed it and your trust.  

"Now you’ve gone a bit further and given me the last thing you’ve been holding out on — your self control.   Don’t take it back, please."

He looked down at her, into her bright, brown eyes, and saw the love there.   "I didn’t want to hurt you," he whispered.   "And I wanted it to be good for you.

"I know, love," she replied, her hands stroking back up and down his back.   "It was good, but this is better."

He smiled softly, and kissed her lingeringly.   "I won’t hold back."

"Good."

He laughed softly. "I think we’ve broken in the new washing machine."

"That’s what I like about you," Ginny smiled.   "Your ability to think under pressure."

He leant back upwards, and reluctantly aided his exit from her.   She hopped up immediately from her reclined position on the washing machine, pushing her skirt back down, and then leant against him as her legs wobbled.

"Cleaning charm, Harry."

"Oh, right," he smiled, and absently waved his hand.   He pulled up his jeans and boxers absently.

"Now that I’m clean," she purred.   "Why don’t we go share a shower?"

He couldn’t help but smile as he followed her upstairs, his eyes firmly on her denim covered arse.

"You know that Hermione is a genius?" she asked, as she moved into their bedroom.

"Why are we talking about her?" he asked, really not caring about his friend’s intelligence.

"Well, she’s been working on a potion, and I agreed to test it out," she replied, as she pulled off her t-shirt, her back to him.

"Oh?" he asked, disinterestedly.

"Yeah," she said, as she kicked off her trainers and removed her skirt, bending a little.   He groaned as he ran his eyes over the smooth skin of her back, and tight arse.

He realised that he was wearing too many clothes, and pulled off his t-shirt.

"It’s a hair removal potion, for legs," she explained.

"Oh?" he still wasn’t that interested, until she turned around.

"I used it everywhere," she smirked.

His mind went blank for a second, a brief second, as he tried to work out what she meant, before his eyes started to slide down her body, past her breasts, and her firm stomach.

He dropped to his knees as he found exactly what she meant, and groaned.

"Gonna join me in the shower?"

"I’d join you anywhere," he said seriously.

"I know," she smiled.


"Which house do you think we’ll be in?" Jamie asked, as they lined up outside the door to the Great Hall.

"Dad said that he got to make a choice," Sami reminded him with a grin.  "So we’ll just choose as well."

"Have you got that letter Dad told us to give Snape?"

"Yep, he said that it’s charmed to fly to him when we get in there."

"Excited?"

"Yeah.   I think we should go for Slytherin."

"So we can annoy Snape?"

"And get away with more pranks."

Jamie’s reaction was halted, as the doors opened, and Aunt Min, who they now had to refer to as Professor McGonagall, lead them into Great Hall.   It held no surprises for them; they had both been here many times before, as both their parents had taught for a year or two to cover for other teachers.

As they walked in, Sami pulled out the letter, and it jerked happily in her hand, and as she released it, it flew straight to the glowering Snape.


Severus Snape sighed to himself.   He had hoped to never see this day, when the brats of Potter and Weasley joined the school.   He’d had enough of them when they had lived there, and was looking forward to showing them that their famous father couldn’t look out for them anymore.

He watched as one of them pulled a red envelope out of her pocket, and it flew straight towards him.

Expecting a prank, he mentally decided to take one hundred points from Gryffindor — the day Harry Potter’s children were in a different house was the day he wore a pink tutu — and he hated pink.

He instantly recognised Harry’s scrawl, and read it close.

Snape,
Having spent seven years under your tutelage, and knowing your childish hatred of me, I thought it would be a good idea if I made something clear.
I will not accept any mistreatment of my cubs from you.  
I have arranged for other students to inform me if you do anything cruel, unfair, or downright evil to them, as you once did to me.  
This is your one and only warning.
If you fail to heed this warning, you will disappear.   There will be no trial, no evidence and no repercussions.   You will disappear from Hogwarts and never be seen again.
You may thank my wife for this letter — I was more than ready to prejudge you, and wait for your childish hatred to rear its immature head.
H.J.P.

Snape paled, and looked up wildly.   Potter’s twins were talking to each other, and showed no sign of smirking, or even knowing what the letter said.

As flames licked his fingers, he released it, and watched as the letter burnt to ashes and then vanished in front of him, leaving him with no proof that he had ever seen it.

"The strange thing about that sort of letter," Albus said calmly, leaning to one side.   "Is that they are magically burnt into your brain, and can’t be pulled out by a Pensieve."

"That’s impossible," Snape gasped.

"Nothing, my dear Severus, is impossible for Harry.   Not even making someone permanently disappear."

"You know?" Snape gasped again, his stomach turning.

Dumbledore turned fully towards Snape and looked at him slowly.   "I gave you many warnings about your behaviour toward Harry, and how it would have long-lasting implications.   It is only out of respect for me, and for Ginny, that he didn’t take pre-emptive steps.   He hates you, Severus, and sadly, it is not without cause.   He has the ability and the will to follow through on his words.   I do so hope, for your sake, that you heed the warning."

The headmaster turned and looked out at the sorting again, smiling as it headed towards the Potter twins.

Snape turned back as well, feeling sick.  

He was scared, more scared than he had been with Voldemort, and what really turned his stomach, was the feeling that he deserved it.  


"James Potter."

As his name was called out, he walked to the hat and pulled it on.

"Oh," the Hat said out loud.   "I’ll need the other one as well; these twins need to be sorted together."

There was a distinct lack of surprise from anyone who knew the twins, or knew that they were Harry Potter’s children.  

Jamie smiled as he felt Sami sit next to him, and they both sat under the wide brim of the Sorting Hat.

'Hmm, where to put you,’ the Hat mused into their minds.

'Slytherin please,’ they replied together.

'Slytherin?   Why?’

'So that we can pay Snape back for being mean to Mum and Dad,’ they thought at the hat.   'If we’re in his house, he wouldn’t take too many points.’

"I am not putting you two into Slytherin just so you can torment the Head of House!" the Hat shouted out loud.

"But…" the twins said together.

'Where else?’ the Hat thought at them.

They both missed the sniggers that came from the numerous Weasley children and friends that were at the school.

'Gryffindor,’ they both sighed.  

"Gryffindor!" The Hat yelled.   'Say hello to your dad for me.’

'We will,’ they replied, as they moved off the stool and walked over to the Gryffindor table.  

The Gryffindor House was full of red-haired children, as if the seven Weasley children had taken it on themselves to repopulate the Wizarding world.  

"I wonder what Mum and Dad are doing now," Jamie said, as he started to eat his first official meal as a Hogwarts student.

"Probably sitting at the table in the kitchen, having dinner, sad and missing us loads," Sami replied with a sigh.   "I hope they’re okay."


Ginny smiled happily as she threw the remains of the fish and chips into the bin.   After their shower, where washing had taken a back to seat to exploring, they had both had a quick nap, before Harry popped out to get a take away.   There was something gloriously right about eating fish and chips out of paper in the front room, without having to care about setting a good example for the kids.

They’d both used too much tartar sauce and tomato ketchup without guilt, as music played on the stereo.

She felt Harry walk up behind her and smiled softly as he hugged her from behind.  

"I’m still hungry," he said softly.

"Considering how much you ate, I’m shocked," she teased.

"Who said I was hungry for food?" he growled, his hand reaching around to the belt of her silk kimono.   With a confident pull, he undid it, and parted it, his hands roaming her body at will.

"I thought I was going to go first," she half complained — referring to her earlier promise to tie him up.

"You had your chance, and you missed it."   She could hear the smirk in his voice.

"What about the neighbours?" she asked, as he stepped away from her, letting the kimono drop to the floor, leaving her naked.

"Screw the neighbours."

"You’d better not," she smirked.

"Very funny," he replied.

She suddenly felt herself start to float and relaxed, looking at him as she floated back towards the table.   "Do you have something for the kitchen?"

"Best place to eat," he smirked.

"Very funny," she intoned in the same inflection he had used.   She smiled as she came into contact with the surface, and recognised a cushioning charm on it.   He was so thoughtful, too thoughtful at times, but he was starting to realise that a little bit of roughness was fine.  

She’d known for years that he’d had a silly ratio in his head — that she should come three or four times to his one, but hadn’t known enough to understand what was wrong with it.   It was only when she had talked to Hermione earlier, that she had realised it had meant that he was always in control — that he never let himself go like she did.

She didn’t blame him. There was nothing to blame for since they’d both been naïve about it, and he’d tried to do what he thought was best.   She was hoping that now he realised that both of them out of control was a lot better.  

She felt him walk to the side and take her hand, stretching it gently to the top of the table.   He put his hand over her wrist, and a second later, she felt something hold it firmly in place.   The idea of being tied up like this was very new, she had discovered in it in their magazines, and she found it exciting, putting herself completely under his control.

Her other hand was stretched out, and then both her legs, so that she was open, more so than she could ever remember, and completely vulnerable.   She couldn’t remember ever feeling like this, and shuddered.   She tried to lift her head, but couldn’t keep it up for long, since the effort was too much.   The fact that it was on the kitchen table, in view of anyone who walked past added a little thrill.   A thrill that not even the knowledge that the wards surrounding their house wouldn’t allow anyone to just walk by couldn’t diminish.

She felt herself get aroused before he even started to touch her.   Oral sex.   It even sounded exciting.   He’d kissed her before, kissed her breasts, and her neck and shoulders, but it hadn’t even occurred to them that you could go further, and while she’d wanted to do him first, she wasn’t averse to being the recipient.

"I’ve been dreaming of this for weeks," he sighed, looking down at her.   "You are more beautiful now than when I first fell in love with you."

That had been at sixteen for her, in his final year.   She felt herself blushing.

He laughed softly, "Every day I thank god that you are in my life.   You are my life, now, and for eternity."

She smiled up at him, suddenly feeling the urge to cry.   He always seemed to know what to say to make her feel like the most important woman in the world.   She might not be that, and to be honest, had no wish to be, but she did want to be the most important person to Harry Potter, and she knew she was.

She felt him kiss her left wrist, and shuddered, the tears banished, as a mixture of excitement and dread set in.   He was serious about teasing her, and she knew she was going to go out of her mind.  

His head drifted down her arm, stopping at the ticklish spot she had there, before heading towards her neck.   She slid her head away from him, baring her neck in a display of submission.

She felt him nuzzle and nip her gently, and sighed with pleasure.   She wished he would bring his roughened hands into play, but knew that wasn’t in his plan, and she wasn’t going to beg.

Yet.

She groaned in frustration as he made his way up her other arm.   Damn it, she wanted his mouth in much more interesting places.

She had no idea how he was moving like he was, without touching her, but when her husband has a relationship with magic that she was only just beginning to comprehend on a magical level, it was understandable.

Finally, after what seemed to be an age, he headed down her chest and towards the swell of her breasts.   They had been another example of the aging process not attacking her like it should.   With her fortieth birthday in sight and after breast-feeding two children they should have had some sag, and when flat on her back, should not be proudly pointing towards the sky like they were.   She was more than happy to admit that her vanity thanked him for that present.

She moaned softly as she felt his softly rasping tongue slide up the side of her breasts, and around the edge of her nipple.   She wanted him to lick her, to bite her softly, to do something, anything, to end the torment she was going through.

"Git," she swore, as he abandoned her breast and buried his face in her cleavage.

She felt him laugh against her, and wished she had her wand to hand so she could…

Whatever she was going to think vanished as he licked her right nipple, hard.

But it was a frustratingly fleeting feeling as he slowly slid down her body, spending time at her navel, tickling her softly, only she didn’t laugh.   She writhed beneath him, trying to get her hands free so that she could grab his head and stop his tongue from teasing her.

She panted in anticipation as he reached the place where her pubic hair had been before Hermione’s potion had done its business.   She could feel him sliding down slowly, and tensed, awaiting the contact she knew without doubt she was going to love.

She realised that he must be using magic on the table, as the angles he was finding to kiss her were impossible.  

She wailed softly as he bypassed the spot that was begging for his touch, and slid down her leg.   "Harry Potter," she yelled.

"Patience, love," he replied, and she could hear the amusement in his voice.

I’ll get revenge for this, she swore to herself, as he ran his tongue along her inner thigh.   And Remus to, if he had anything to do with this damn torture.

She had just about reached Dumbledore on her mental list of people to get revenge on when she realised he was heading up again, and this time it felt different, like he was finally going to put her out of her misery.   She arched her back in anticipation, straining against her magical bonds to get closer to him.

There was a pause that seemed to last for ever, longer than they had known each other, as she felt his hot breath against her, brushing over her hot damp skin.

"Please," she begged breathlessly, pride a forgotten emotion.   She wanted to grab his head, and force him to move to where she wanted him.   The fact she couldn’t, that she was locked in place by his magical bonds was affecting her in a way she’d never considered.  

She was completely helpless, at his every whim, and completely reliant on him.   She exhaled slowly, luxuriating in the thought that she belonged to him so completely.   That she could trust him so implicitly.  

It was like her ultimate expression of love — passing on the very last thing she had to him, secure in the knowledge that he would never let fall.

She groaned as he slowly licked her.   She didn’t care how he was in the position he was, what had happened to the table or even if Voldemort was performing the can-can in the next room.   All she cared about was his tongue against her most intimate parts.

He licked her again, a little harder, and she moaned her encouragement.   It seemed to work, as he picked up the pace a little, licking her faster.   She felt his tongue slide down and enter her, and her toes curled, her arms pushing hard against her bounds.

He slid out of her, and his tongue inched up to the bundle of nerves that was screaming for his attention — she tensed herself, waiting.

He licked her, once, softly, and she screamed her pleasure.   No kids meant no need to keep quiet, and she was determined to be as vocal as she could be to ensure he didn’t bloody well stop.   Lights exploded behind her eyes, putting the fireworks the day after Harry had defeated Voldemort to shame.

He continued to push his face against her, his agile tongue - used to talking in ancient impenetrable languages - was being used to perfection against her, and she stopped thinking, and just kept feeling.

It felt like all she needed was one more little touch, and she’d be there, over the edge.   One more little thing was all that was needed.

And he stopped.

She couldn’t believe it; her mind couldn’t comprehend it.   All she could do was let out a long, drawn out moan in protest.

He started again, slower than before, building her up again.   She was further along than before, but still not quite there.   It was torture, agony.

She felt something press against her, as his tongue worked around her clit, and realised it was his finger.

She felt herself be penetrated, and groaned her pleasure, wanting a little more.   She felt his teeth lightly bite her, his tongue flicking against her hard and she screamed, her body reacting, pulling hard against her restraints.

So close.

So close.

His finger curled inside her, rubbing a spot she hadn’t known existed, and her mind exploded.

Stars. Lights. Nothing compared to this.   Nothing came close.   She had no control over herself or her reactions, and didn’t care.   She panted hard, as her muscles slowly relaxed, and she collapsed back against the cushioned table bonelessly.

His tongue flicked out, and she jerked, an aftershock of pleasure rocking through her.   "No more," she begged.

She felt him move onto the table, and watched as he came into sight, a warm caring smile on his face.

"Release me?"

He waved his hand, and she groaned in pleasure as she moved her arms.   She could see his face glistening, and realised it was from her, and she smiled tenderly, sliding his arms around his neck.

She kissed him slowly, tasting herself on him, not caring, just enjoying the kiss.   She could feel him pressing hard into her hip, and held his head still.   She licked his chin softly, cleaning him like a cat, licking herself off him, while she regained her breath.

Tomorrow, she would do him, she decided.   Now, she just wanted him deep inside her again, and decided it was a good time to try one of the other positions she had read about.


"Drink, my dear?" Albus asked Minerva as they sat in his office.

"Please." Professor McGonagall sighed happily as she settled into the chair comfortably.

"What do you think of them, then?"

"The same as I thought before.   They are bright, funny, well-raised children."

"I meant magically."

"They are completely normal.   They’re powerful, but nothing like Harry."

"That is what I thought," Albus nodded slowly.   "I must confess to being a tad concerned, Minerva."

"About what?"

"Harry."

"In what way?"

"I’m two hundred years old," he explained.   "And I’m still going strong.   Harry is immensely more powerful than me; his power has never stopped growing.   It could be the curse he survived early, or just a strange coincidence."

"And you think Harry might live to be a lot older?"

"I’m concerned that he might truly become immortal, and that when Ginny dies, he will be lost and alone.   The thought of eternity alone scares me, so it must terrify him."

"Have you talked to him about it?"

"It’s only recently that I have started to worry," he confessed.

"We should talk to them soon."

Albus nodded, and sipped the tea in front of him.   "I noticed the Sorting was two children short."

"Yes, Michael Chadwick and Stephanie Entwhistle didn’t make it.   They both have a bad case of Wizarding Flu, and will join us in a couple of weeks."

Albus sighed softly.   "Nasty thing to catch at a young age.   Oh, I’ve allowed a Brett Sanderson access to our Library.   He’s doing a degree course on Hogwarts, and wanted to research some of the history that isn’t in Hogwarts: a history.   He has promised to stay out of the way of the students."

"Oh?"

"Yes, a very charming young man - very bright smile.   I’m sure that some of our older students would no doubt develop a crush on him."


Ron sighed as he looked at the mess in the front room, and started to pick it up.   Quite how they had ended up with five kids, he still wasn’t sure.   And while he loved them all, at times, he wished he could just have some time alone with his wife.

"Hey honey," Hermione yawned as she walked over and kissed him.   "Only two more to go till they’re all at Hogwarts."

He smiled and hugged her.   "Yep."

"How about a bottle of wine?"

"We’ve not got any," Ron frowned.   "And the shops’ll be shut now."

"Damn," Hermione sighed.  

He did as well, as wine was often an indicator that his wife was a little horny, and he didn’t want to miss that part.   Harry! Harry always had wine in; he’d nip over quickly and get some.

"I’ll check there isn’t a bottle left in the pantry," he said.   "You sit down and relax."

"Okay," Hermione smiled and sat.

He walked into the kitchen, and contemplated floo’ing them first, but realised that they might be enjoying their first night alone — he knew he would be.   So he’d just floo into their kitchen, see if they were around and if not, leave an I.O.U. for the bottle, and vanish.

He stepped into the fire.   "Potter, home.   Authorisation Omicron Persei Eight."   Harry had password protected his floo as soon as he had moved in, and only very close family knew the password.

He arrived and coughed, stumbling out of the fireplace.   He looked around, and froze in absolute horror.

On the table — the table he’d helped carry into the place, the table he’d eaten dinner at countless times — his sister, his younger sister, was kneeling over his best friend, his hands were covering her breasts, while she bounced enthusiastically.

"Get the hell out of here, Ron," Ginny shouted, although he noticed that she didn’t stop moving — she didn’t even slow down.

"Close the floo, Harry," Ginny panted.

Ron took a step back, almost forgetting to throw the powder into the fire first, as Harry’s hand shot out, and a burst of magic destroyed a vase on the mantelpiece.   Harry waved his hand again, and another bolt of magic half destroyed the fireplace.   "Badger’s Set," he called desperately, as another bolt of magic flew straight towards him.

"Ron?" Hermione called, entering the kitchen to find him covered in plaster, a shocked look on his face.

"Ron?"

"Went to Harry’s," he mumbled, unable to function more.

"Oh," Hermione said, a slight smirk evident on her face.   "What did you see?"

"Sister.   Harry.   Kitchen table.   Didn’t stop.   Told me get out.   Harry destroyed fireplace."

For some reason, he was highly insulted when Hermione started to laugh — and wouldn’t stop.   He’d never get the image of his naked sister bouncing on his best friend out of his mind — and was only grateful that the angle, Harry’s hands and their position stopped him from seeing anything else.

Author Notes:

Thanks to John, Chele, Cami, Ellie, Susui and everyone who helped on this chapter.