Interhouse Relations

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe and all the characters are property of J.K. Rowling and whomever else has a finger in the huge franchise. I do not. I make no money nor do I claim any ownership of the people, places, and things (unless I make them up as we go). It is only to have some fun do I write this story, in hopes of some entertainment.

Warning: This chapter contains scenes with course language, nudity, and explicit sexuality. Reader discretion is advised.



With her mouth hanging open, Hermione slowly rose from behind the crate. Her bushy hair was frizzier than ever, the heat of the small closet causing a few strands of cinnamon coloured hair to stick to her forehead and neck. Harry swallowed the sudden lump in his throat at her dishevelled appearance. Her white blouse was pulled from her skirt and unbuttoned at the top, displaying a fair amount of tantalizing cleavage that heaved with the girl’s rapid breathing. The black skirt wrapped around her waist was twisted and wrinkled and much too high on her thighs to be considered decent. Decency be damned! Harry had never seen a pair of lovelier legs. This was not the Hermione he was used to seeing and it made his heart thump erratically.

“You knew I was here?” demanded an incredulous Hermione. She brushed her sweaty hands over her skirt. A bright pink blush suffused her skin as she noticed the state her clothes were in. with a sidelong peek towards Harry, she tried to subtly put her clothing back in order. “You knew I was here and you still shagged Malfoy? How could you? Harry, you could have traumatized me. How can I ever look at you again?”

Harry stepped closer to the girl and stared into her bright brown eyes. He searched for the anguish and pain she spoke of, fear swelling his heart. He didn’t want to think of what would happen to their friendship if Hermione was indeed hurt from witnessing his tryst with Draco. Their gazes were locked, neither able to look away. When Hermione took a step forward, a sparkle shone in Harry’s emerald eyes. “You’re looking at me now,” he whispered.

“No, I’m not,” Hermione said, unblinking. Her eyes were wide, gazing at her friend intently.

“You weren’t traumatized by what you saw. You liked it!”

“I did not!” Hermione denied, licking her lips.

Harry stepped directly in front of Hermione, invading her personal space. “Liar!” he declared as the bubble of tension between the two teens imploded, driving them into each other. Their lips crushed together and their arms squeezed tight around them.

They both pulled apart frantically, each panting and gasping. Bending over, resting his hands on his knees, Harry shook his head. “What are we doing? He asked hysterically. “I can’t do this. You’re my best friend. It would change everything. And besides, I’m gay!”

Pulling at her hair, Hermione barked a squeaky laugh. “Holy cricket, Harry, have we gone mad? Maybe it’s another lust potion. Malfoy must have slipped you something after all.”

“He didn’t have time. Besides, naked, he didn’t really have anywhere to hide it.”

“Naked?” she yelped. Her eyes shot down over her friend’s body, seeing him naked once more in her mind. “You looked good naked, Harry.” As soon as the words left her lips, Hermione slapped her hand over her mouth and looked up at Harry in shock. How could she have said such a thing? Shaking her head wildly, her hair flapping in the air, Hermione whimpered pitifully. It wasn’t just the fact that she had said that, but the fact that she knew it was true. She did think Harry looked good naked. His lean body well muscled from years of flying, his once boyish face now chiselled into that of a man, green eyes sparkling from behind his glasses. And don’t even mention that… that penis! What was a girl to do?

Shoving his hands deep in his pockets, Harry blushed furiously. “Thanks,” he muttered, making Hermione blush as much as him. With furtive eyes, almost not daring enough to look at his friend, Harry finally forced his gaze to Hermione. “Want to see me naked again?”

Hermione looked up at Harry in surprise. “Cheeky,” she giggled with a sly smile.

A boyish grin brightened Harry’s face at her reaction and it emboldened the young wizard to approach the witch again. Not quite touching, the two teens swayed together, gazing at each other before Harry finally bent forward and kissed Hermione. It started slow, lips pressed together lightly sucking on each other’s lips. Very quickly, passion took over and Hermione’s tongue jabbed into Harry’s mouth. He sucked diligently and grazed his teeth over the wiggling muscle. Hermione trembled at the sensation. A low moan rumbled from her body.

“Oh God, Harry,” she cried huskily. “I can’t…”

“Sorry,” Harry muttered quickly. The dejection filled his eyes, making the green irises darker.

“I can’t stand it anymore, Harry,” panted Hermione, not noticing Harry’s withdrawn apology. “I’m so hot from watching you shag Malfoy. Please Harry, do to me what you did to him.”

What teenage boy needs to be asked twice? Certainly not Harry. He practically flew at Hermione, almost knocking her over in his aroused haste, and pushed her against the wall.

Hermione pushed Harry away abruptly. “I can’t do this!”

“What? But… you said… this is… What?” Harry stammered. Talk about hot and cold. Harry was shocked to realize that Hermione was a tease!

She grabbed his hand and pulled him over to the door. Opening said door, the young witch peered out cautiously, hoping not to find anyone lurking about. No one was lurking about. She sighed in relief. “Come on, Harry,” demanded Hermione.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m sorry, Harry, but I couldn’t stay in that room and let you shag me like you shagged Malfoy. I mean, really! Malfoy was in there. It just didn’t feel right.”

Confused beyond his years, Harry blinked several times. “Where are you taking me then? And what’s wrong with having Malfoy in the closet?”

“I’m taking you to the Prefect’s bath. I’m going to help wash you clean and then…” Blushing furiously, Hermione couldn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t comment on the second question.

It was a long journey to the Prefect’s bathroom. They tiptoed through the deserted hallways, desperately hoping they were not caught. That would certainly throw ice water all over their still raging hormones. It was a state the bookish witch wasn’t used to feeling. It was a state that confused her and muddled her usual logical and rational thinking. Thinking was made all the more difficult with Harry in such close proximity. She couldn’t stop thinking of how he looked with no clothes on. It was a strange image to have seared in your mind. Strange and naughty. Hermione bit her lip to keep from smiling.

They stopped at a corner and slowly peered out, Hermione sticking her hear around the corner while Harry leaned over above her. His body was pressed against hers. Closing her eyes at the contact, she opened her mouth and let out a long silent sigh. The young witch arched her back, pressing back into the boy’s body. “Harry, you have to stop touching me,” she panted.

“I’m not touching you,” the raven haired teen insisted.

As Harry straightened, Hermione moved with him, keeping in contact. The feeling of his hard arousal nestled against her bum was intoxicating. It created sensations that were hard to ignore. Not that she wanted to ignore them. Hermione leaned back even more, her trembling legs threatening to turn to jelly. “Harry,” Hermione breathed. She grabbed his hand and brought it around to her belly.

“Would you prefer we just went back to Gryffindor Tower?” Harry teased, rubbing his thumb over her belly in circles.

“No!” Hermione cried. She jumped away from Harry and yanked him after her again. “We need to wash the stink that is Malfoy from you.”

Frowning slightly, Harry narrowed his eyes in disapproval. “Draco doesn’t stink.”

“Oh, come on Harry. Malfoy wears so much cologne that he could drop a mosquito within fifty paces.”

Wearing a sheepish grin, Harry shrugged his shoulders in defeat. You can’t argue when the girl is right. Hermione always had a nose for facts. Nothing got by her. “You have to admit that it is nice smelling cologne though.”

“Yeah, ‘aux de peau,” Hermione snorted. Seeing Harry’s hurt expression she rolled her eyes in exasperation. She couldn’t believe how seriously Harry was taking her comments. Insulting Draco Malfoy wasn’t new between them. “Okay Harry, I admit his cologne isn’t that bad. Just so long as he’s fifty metres away,” the witch muttered to herself.

As the two teens neared the Prefect’s bathroom, the raspy voice of Argus Filch echoed to their ears. The loud response of the caretaker’s cat rumbled over them and Harry stopped. Hermione walked into him. “Harry, what…?”

With desperate quickness, Harry covered the questioning witch’s mouth with his hand. Their heartbeats stopped. They stood motionless, their eyes staring down the hallway anxiously. There was silence and it stretched time like a rubber band, drawing it out until the quiet seemed like forever. Then it snapped back and Mrs. Norris let out a suspicious roar. “Hear something, do you pretty?” Filch cooed to his familiar excitedly. “Lead the way, Mrs. Norris. We’ll catch whoever is out past curfew.”

“Come on!” Harry exclaimed with a barely audible breath, grabbing Hermione’s hand and dashing towards the safety of the Prefect’s bathroom. They couldn’t run too fast of the sound of their footfalls would give them away. Filch had no such problem. His heavy shuffling treads clumped noisily closer.

“Mrs. Norris!” Hermione moaned as the cat’s shadow appeared down the corridor.

Looking around wildly, Harry pulled Hermione into an alcove covered by a large tapestry. It was a tight fit as the two students huddled together behind the heavy covering. Harry could feel Hermione’s warmth, not to mention her soft breasts pressed against his chest. The closeness made him tremble. Looking up at her friend, Hermione slid her arms around Harry’s waist and embraced him. Resting her head on his chest, the rapid thumping of his heart made her squeeze him tighter.

“Where are they, Mrs. Norris?” Filch asked his cat, gasping from his shuffling run down the corridor.

The scraggly cat paced slowly towards the tapestry that hid the two Gryffindors. Hermione held her breath and tightened her hold on Harry. She didn’t want to be caught by Filch. She was Head Girl. What would people say if she was caught out after curfew? That damn cat! Mrs. Norris would make a good tennis racket.

With the cat steadily approaching their hiding place, Harry desperately raised his wand. With a flick of the wrist and a hope and a prayer in his heart, a loud crash reverberated further down the hallway.

Filch shouted, “You down there! No use hiding, is there? Come out and receiver your punishment.” The caretaker shuffled quickly past the tapestry.

Mrs. Norris meowed, as if to say, “The Hell you going?” to her master, as she stared fixedly into the alcove.

With a gaze that rivalled a basilisk, Harry glared at the cat. “Shoo!” he exclaimed, and raised his wand at the baying feline.

“Harry, no!” Hermione gasped. She clutched her friend’s arm and averted his wand to the floor. “If you jinx the cat, Filch will find us for sure.”

“If that stupid cat doesn’t go soon, we’ll be pinched anyway.”

“You have a point,” Hermione said with a wry shrug. Even though Filch had taken the bait that Harry had magicked down the corridor, Mrs. Norris would eventually give them away. There was only one thing to do. They were going to have to curse that mangy old cat into next week. Hermione rummaged in her pocket and then raised her wand alongside Harry’s.

“Come, my pet,” Filch called from down the corridor. “We’ll catch whoever’s out, mark my words. Come, my lovely.”

Mrs. Norris looked toward the urging voice of her master, then back at the tapestry. She glanced down the hall again. She let out a frustrated meow before slowly padding off after Filch. As the cat passed by the tapestry, she stared at the hanging with suspicious dark eyes. She knew there was someone hiding behind, but Argus Filch was off and running. It was her duty to try to keep the old fart out of trouble.

Breathing a heavy sigh of relief, Hermione sagged against Harry. She rested her forehead on his chest. “That was close,” she exclaimed. A smile brightened her face as she looked up at her friend. “That was amazing how you did that silent spell, Harry. I’m so proud of you.”

“I aim to please,” the cheeky boy replied.

“You do, eh?” Hermione asked, biting her lower lip.

Harry looked down with a blush. This was exciting, yet dangerous territory. What would become of their friendship if they went much further? What would Ron think? Harry blinked. What would Draco do? It felt good to have Hermione in his arms, pressing her body to his, almost as good as having Draco pressing into him, lean muscles and smooth skin.

With trembling hands and a snitch fluttering in his stomach, Harry gently pushed Hermione back and peered around the tapestry. “It’s all clear,” he warbled, cringing slightly at the cracking of his voice. It was like he was fourteen again and just hitting puberty. Harry wanted to crawl under a rock. “We shouldn’t stay here.”

“Oh, you’re right,” the bushy brunette exclaimed. Grabbing Harry’s hand, Hermione hurriedly pulled him to the Prefect’s bathroom.

The bathroom was just like he remembered it from Fourth year, but this time the mermaid in the painting was watching.

“Go to sleep, Harmony,” Hermione ordered the painting.

“I think not,” Harmony, the mermaid chimed, her voice filling Harry’s ears with music. There was a melodious quality to the mermaid’s voice that made the young wizard stiffen, in more ways than one. “Unless, I tell your young man there all about how you…”

“Alright!” Hermione shouted at the painting, blushing furiously. Harmony was usually very eager to keep the secrets of those that used the bathroom. It was only when her fun was threatened that the mermaid suggested a bit of loose lipped coercion. She was harmless enough otherwise. She just had a tendency towards voyeurism. “Come on, Harry.”

Coming out of his stupor, Harry turned incredulous eyes to his friend. “You don’t expect… How can we… She’s watching!”

“She’s harmless, Harry,” Hermione sighed. “She’s just a bit of a voyeur. She likes to watch.”

“Watch what?” Harry asked cannily. “What has she watched you doing? Or should I say, who has she watched you doing?”

“Whom has she watched me doing, Harry,” Hermione corrected. “And the answer is no one. Now strip! Let’s get you cleaned off.”

Shuffling his feet, Harry picked at the buttons of his shirt. They had been playing and teasing with each other the whole time, but now, when it appeared that the two friends had the privacy and opportunity to complete the transaction as it were, Harry found it difficult to find the courage to take off his clothes.

Looking over at her unmoving friend, Hermione huffed peevishly. “Harry, please!” she whined, the impatience in her voice shadowing her desire. She really couldn’t handle too much more of Harry’s maddening torture. Her knickers were already soaked and they were beginning to chafe. “Stop teasing me.” The impatient girl stepped over to the wizard and began unbuttoning his shirt for him. Her voice was low and husky as she stated, “I need you, Harry. So let’s get you out of these clothes and I’ll wash you down.”

“You’re going to wash me?” Harry gulped, his voice squeaking past the lump of lust in his throat at his favourite witch’s declaration.

“Of course,” Hermione promised as she tugged at the belt around his waist. “I want to make sure you’re fully clean, and I want to get my hands all over you.”

As if by magic, Harry’s trousers slipped down his legs. Stepping back, Hermione gave him a saucy smile and snapped his belt in her hands. The sound of cracking leather echoed in the room. Harry couldn’t help but smile back and shrugged off his shirt. Clad in only a pair of tenting boxers and his Gryffindor tie, Harry struck a pose, flexing his lean muscles.

“You cheeky bugger,” Hermione giggled. She grabbed his tie and pulled him to her for a kiss. Their lips met and moved over each other fiercely before the two teens pulled apart, panting. Hermione looked down, her face pink. “Get in the water, Harry.”

Running his hand through his black hair, Harry gave a nervous chuckle. The tie around his neck was easily pulled off, but when he put his fingers into the waist band of his boxers, he hesitated. Hermione had looked over at him then, her eyes riveted to his crotch. It was almost enough to make poor old Willie die. Having Hermione so interested in his body was terrifying. What if ‘This’ hurt their friendship? It was a thought that scared the wizard out of his pants, figuratively speaking of course. He still had his boxers on after all. Harry wondered if there was a better expression for what he was experiencing.

“You can’t go in with those on, Harry,” Hermione said as her friend remained motionless. “Go on. Take them off, then.”

Steeling his nerves, Harry pushed his boxers to the floor with one quick move. He heard Hermione gasp as he stood up and looked quickly to her. Her brown eyes were big and staring as she held her hand over her mouth. Feeling very self conscious, Harry felt his cock wilt slightly. “What?” he asked defensively. When all Hermione did was continue staring, Harry called out again. “Hermione, what is it?”

Her soft brown eyes reluctantly shifted from Harry’s partially deflating dick to his eyes. As her hand fell away from her mouth, she whispered rather nervously, “Wow. It’s… you’re beautiful?”

At the words of praise from his best friend, Harry felt his penis rein late to its steely form. There was something about being naked and getting compliments like that, that really caused his ego to grow, among other things. “I wouldn’t quite go that far as to say I’m beautiful,” Harry commented with a shy chuckle. “But thanks.”

Casting her eyes back to his cock, Hermione took a tentative step closer. She swallowed difficultly as she reached slowly forward, her fingers cutting through the air, but stopped scant millimetres away from the throbbing flesh. “Um, may I… Harry?” she asked, looking up with a gleam of fear in her eyes.

Harry could only nod meekly. When the girl’s fingers curled around his cock, a gasping moan blew from his mouth. Hermione had such a delicate touch. Harry closed his eyes, letting the heat from her hand envelop him. The image of Draco stroking him swam into his mind. He couldn’t help but move his hips to get more friction and heat along his cock.

“You’re smaller than Neville,” Hermione stated with a whisper.

Harry’s eyes flew open. “What?” He felt himself deflate a tad as blood rushed to his face in embarrassment. Or anger. Harry couldn’t quite tell.

Oblivious to Harry’s mortification at being compared to another bloke and coming up short, so to speak, Hermione continued to squeeze and stroke the smooth shaft. “Well you do seem to have a longer penis then Neville, but his is thicker. My fingers only overlapped a little around his, while I can reach my knuckles when holding you.”

Choking and sputtering, Harry tried to pull away. He didn’t want to hear that Hermione could choke his chicken. He didn’t want to hear that Neville was a beast. All Harry wanted at the moment was to escape before his dick shrank so small that Hermione would laugh and say “How cute” in a sickly sweet girlie voice. Escape seemed unlikely though as the young witch just wouldn’t let go. Her hand clung to him in a vice like grip that felt oddly pleasant. Harry was torn on the desire to flee and the need to stay. Harry was torn from Hermione’s grasp when he stepped on the edge of the swimming pool size bathtub. His arms flailed out to the sides, flopping like a demented Dodo bird intent on flying. Just like a Dodo bird, flying was not going to happen. Harry lost his footing and fell back into the water, pulling a surprised Hermione with him, still clinging to his shrunken dick.

“Harry!” Hermione shrieked as the water rushed towards the falling girl. The resulting splash as the two teens fell into the bath sent water sloshing over the floor, another sloppy mess for the Hogwarts caretaker to clean up.

Coughing and sputtering, Hermione stood up, the water dripping from her clothes. Her white blouse was transparent, allowing Harry to see the light blue bra she wore underneath. Her nipples poked straight out, the little buds quite evident. “What on Earth were you thinking, Harry?” the Head Girl asked as she shook her matted hair around, sending sprinkles of droplets to and fro. The normally bushy hair was a soaked mess of tangles and as the girl flung her head side to side, Harry couldn’t help but compare her to an overgrown sheep dog with its fur covering its eyes.

Hermione didn’t appreciate being laughed at as Harry clutched his stomach and bent over with each hiccoughing chortle. Slowly, she pushed the curtain of hair from her face and glared at her friend. Or former friend if he didn’t stop laughing at her. “What is so funny, pray tell, Harry James Potter?” she cried as she hit the water in her ire, which only made her angrier as the water splashed her in retaliation.

“I’m sorry, ‘Mione,” Harry choked, valiantly containing his mirth. “It’s just… this whole thing is turning into one big fiasco after another.”

Frowning, Hermione pursed her lips in a disgruntled pout. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

Harry waded over to the dejected girl and put his hands on her shoulders. Looking into her eyes seriously, he took a deep breath and said, “I think you know what I mean.”

Shiny brown eyes stared up at the wizard. “You and I, it’s not going to happen, is it?”

Harry shook his head, sadly.

“Why not?” Hermione exclaimed desperately. “What’s wrong with me that we can’t shag?”

“Do I really have to answer that, Hermione?” Harry countered. He swam to the side of the bath and hauled himself up, turning to sit on the edge with his feet dipped in the water. “We’ve never really shown any real desire for each other before, Hermione. Why would we now?”

“What do you mean, we haven’t shown desire? We gravitate towards each other. I’m always thinking about you, worrying about you. We’ve always been close.”

Harry stared into the water, his mind drifting back over the past seven years. “You ever notice how Ron is so protective of Ginny. He can’t handle anyone dating her. He didn’t really want her to play Quidditch because it’s so dangerous. I think it’s like that with you and me. You and Ron are the only family I have, Hermione. My brother and sister.”

A tiny gasp escaped Hermione’s lips. Unconsciously, she covered her breasts with her arm, yet she sloshed over to her friend. “Oh Harry. I never thought of it that way. I’ve always been so comfortable with you.”

Harry smiled warmly. That’s why Hermione was the smartest witch at Hogwarts. She could get that brilliant mind of hers around just about anything. “Exactly! I don’t have to worry about you judging me or staring at me.”

“Unless you’re doing something stupid or dangerous.”

“Well, luckily I don’t do anything stupid or dangerous, do I?” Harry chuckled as Hermione rolled her eyes. With a deep relieved breath, Harry continued. “The point is, being around you, I don’t have to be ‘The Boy Who Lived’ or a freak or any number of things other people expect of me. I can just be…”

“Me!” Hermione exclaimed.

A frown creased Harry’s brow, fighting the grin that threatened. “I don’t really think I try to be you.”

“No, silly,” Hermione snorted in amusement. “I was just finishing the statement for you. What I mean is, I know exactly what you mean. Being around you, I don’t have to put on airs or act differently. We can just be ourselves around each other.”

Harry sighed in relief. “I’m glad you understand.”

With a big smile, Hermione hugged Harry. Her straggly mane of hair slapped against his chest and flung into his face. The young wizard had to blow a few strands from his mouth. “Of course I understand, Harry. What are big ‘sisters’ for?” A touch of pink crept into Hermione’s cheeks as she pulled away. “But seeing as we’re practically family now, I think you should probably put some trousers on. Little Harry there seems to still like me a bit too much.”

“Why you!” Harry exclaimed as he splashed the girl before him.