Measure for measure

A few seconds later, they Apparated at the Hogwarts gates where a carriage waited. Helping Hermione in, Albus climbed on board and sat down next to her. He actually expected her to distance herself now, but she slipped out of her shoes, pulled her legs up and leaned against him, her head once again at his shoulder.

She obviously was even more tired than she’d wanted to admit. Cautiously, Albus laid his arm around her, just to make his shoulder more approachable to her. His reward was something what sounded like a purr and a small hand on his chest. It was probably comfortable for her, but for him it certainly wasn’t. The warmth of her palm penetrated through the silk of his robe and he felt how his nipple under it prickled and poked in her hand. And his nipple wasn’t the only part of him which had hardened. His member, pressed against his belly by the weight of the outer robe he’d pulled over his groin, was fully erect and leaking. He urgently needed a distraction, so he looked down at her belly, saying quietly, “For a man, it’s impossible to imagine how it feels to be pregnant, but I think it’s rather unpleasant, isn’t it?”

Hermione shook her head. “No, at the moment, I don’t find it too unpleasant,” she answered. “I can still see my toes and to feel Habakkuk move is wonderful. In general, I like being pregnant.” The carriage stopped now in front of the castle. She slipped in her shoes, making a face as she did so. “Heavens - it feels as if my pumps have become smaller!”

Albus climbed out of the carriage, stepped around and opened his arms invitingly for her. “Madame ordered a lift?”

Hermione laid her right arm around his neck and let him carry her to the door. “I don’t think you will want to carry me in your arms all way up to the tower,” she giggled, “but I will take what I can get.”

“You’ll get the entire tour,” Albus promised.

“Hmm,” Hermione purred, stroking with her free hand over her belly. “Did you hear that, Eurynome? Your dad is a strong man!”

“And how!” Albus laughed. “Besides he knows how to use levitation charms.”

“Cheater!” Hermione scolded him cheerfully. Playing with his hair, she proceeded, “I think you owe me a cup of your special cocoa for that.”

“It will be my pleasure to serve you cocoa,” Albus climbed up the stairs to the entrance of the main hallway.

“What if I want to have it served in my bed?” Hermione asked.

Albus swallowed. Feeling Hermione’s breast against his chest, having her lovely fragrance in his nose and her body in his arms made him almost dizzy with arousal, and the thought of serving cocoa in her bedroom - he was sure, he would need a very cold and very long shower to calm down afterwards. Yet as unpleasant as it felt to sport an erection like his, it was wonderful to have her close and in such a playful mood. He smiled down at her. “I’ll get you a big mug of cocoa and some of your favourite shortbreads. Or would you rather some mixed pickles?”

“Brr!” Hermione shuddered. “The funny appetite syndrome, I luckily, haven’t developed. It’s in all books about pregnancy - but I’ve already learned that they aren’t too precise. They have information all about funny appetite and sensitivity to certain smells; they have entire chapters about how to avoid stretch marks on the belly and breast massages, they tell how to deal with mood swings, but some other important things aren’t even mentioned! I really wonder who writes such books.”

Albus laughed. Complaining about books was very typical for Hermione. Whenever she was confronted with something new, she tried to read every available book about the subject. However, she was rarely satisfied afterwards. Mostly she found the books not detailed enough or to superficial or too badly researched. “Perhaps you should write a book about pregnancy?” Albus suggested.

“That would need a lot of research,” Hermione responded. Tugging softly at his hair, she smiled. “Perhaps I’ll do it after I’ve had our dozen. Although, I intend to do a little research on a certain subject rather soon.”

Albus was now walking through a small corridor. Looking down at Hermione, he smiled. “Hermione without a project wouldn’t be Hermione at all. You’re the born scientist.”

“I love teaching too, Albus. That I’m at the moment not able to teach my entire subject is one of the things I hate about pregnancy. Oh, and since we’re talking about my classes, did you already find someone to take over for the time I can’t teach?”

“Yes,” Albus nodded. “You don’t have to worry - your substitute is at the ready.

“Do I know him?” Hermione asked curiously.

“Yes, you do.” Albus was in front of the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance of the Main tower. Seeing him it moved, revealing a spiralling stair case.

As Albus stepped on it, Hermione asked, “Is he any good - I mean, my substitute?”

“I hope so,” Albus grinned. “Although he didn’t teach Transfiguration for a while.”

Now Hermione had it figured out. “Won’t it become a bit much for you? You have a school to run and the Wizengamot and,” she looked a bit confused. “I think you’d like to have a little time for the baby, too.”

“Don’t worry, Hermione. I’ll have more than only a little time for Habakkuk,” Albus promised. “The trials at the Wizengamot are almost done and at Hogwarts, I don’t expect bigger problems.” With his elbow, he opened the door which led up to the private part of the tower.

“Perhaps I can help you a bit,” Hermione offered. “I could grade essays or set up tests.”

Albus chuckled. “Don’t you trust me?”

“No! But Minerva says you would have a tendency to play a bit too much, and you know I have two NEWT classes next year, the Gryffindors and the Slytherins. It’s first time Minerva trusts me with them and she asked already if I’d really feel up to it,” Hermione said. “I’d hate if they wouldn’t come through as good as Minerva’s classes.”

“I promise I won’t spoil them,” Albus smiled. Opening the door to her part of the flat, he asked, “Where do you want to go?”

“The bedroom, Albus!” she ordered.

The idea of entering her bedroom made his heart speed up even more. He’d never been there before. Hermione had decorated and furnished it with Ginny’s help the days before her wedding, but he hadn’t been invited to look at it.

Even now, Hermione stopped him in front of the door. Kissing his cheek, she let him set her down on her feet. “I’ll have a shower and then I’ll hop in bed, hoping to get a cocoa.”

“Give me ten minutes, then I’ll serve it,” Albus promised.

“Make it twenty - I want to have a luxurious shower!” Hermione said.

“Your wish is my order.” Walking down to his rooms, Albus sighed in relief. Twenty minutes would give him not only time to brew the cocoa, but to slip out of his heavy robes and to provide himself with another deflating charm. They tended to wear off rather quickly now, but at least for one hour, it would keep him from embarrassing himself.

Entering his bedroom, he let his golden and burgundy outer robe drop, looking down at the silken under robe. Over his groin it was stretched by his rock hard penis and the fabric was already darkened from the wetness there.

He kicked his shining black boots away, opened the buttons of his under robe with a wave of his hand and let it fall down on the floor, too. Seeing himself through the open bathroom door in the mirror, he furrowed his brow. He actually liked his body. It had served him well all his life and he’d even got some praise for it by ladies. Only at this moment, he wasn’t happy about what he saw, an old man with a pot belly and an erection so hard the veins on his shaft seemed almost to burst. Besides, he didn’t like the colours. He’d always found the contrast between the pale skin on his shaft and the almost chocolate brown of his scrotum too hard.

Sighing, he waved his hand and murmured the charm. When cast on an erect penis it always felt unpleasant - a sting like someone would have thrown ice in his lap. Albus shuddered and bit his bottom lip, waiting for the ache to subside before he walked to his wardrobe, where he got himself a comfortable blue shirt. He slipped into it and walked out and down. One floor above his bedroom was the rarely used dining room and attached to it the chamber he used as potion lab, very rarely in the last years, and kitchen. Taking a cauldron from one of the shelves, he poured milk, his house elf kept his magical fridge always well stocked, in it, lit a little flame under it and broke a block of dark chocolate in the milk. Patiently, he stirred until the chocolate was melted and mixed with the milk. Now came four generous spoons of cocoa powder - a special mixture out of a Muggle shop in London - in the mix, followed by a spoon of sugar, a piece of cinnamon, a tiny pinch of cayenne and a little pinch of salt. As a good cook, Albus had learned that sweets needed a little pinch of salt to develop a rich, round taste, while on the other hand a lot of spicy dishes needed some sugar to become perfect.

While the cocoa simmered, Albus put a few of Hermione’s favourite shortbreads on a dish, then poured the hot cocoa in two mugs. Taking one and the dish with the cookies, he marched up to Hermione’s room.

Coming close to it, he heard soft music, silvery sounding violins, followed by the dark, full sound of horns. He smiled to himself, remembering how surprised he’d once been when Hermione revealed to him that she liked Wagner - “as long as they don’t sing! As soon as the singing starts, I could climb walls.”

He actually was more appreciative of Bach or Mozart, but the prelude to the third act of Meistersinger suited this evening rather nicely, he found. Knocking, he immediately heard a cheerful, “Come in, Albus!”

Entering the room and looking at her made him very glad for having cast the deflating charm. She was in bed, in her case, a king-sized four poster with burgundy hangings and golden sheets, and although she’d pulled the blankets up under her arms, he knew she wore nothing other than her silken skin. Her shoulders and arms were naked and in the soft light of the candles, they shimmered like ivory. And her smile - he had to swallow and to look at the steaming mug in his hand.

Walking to the bed, he put cocoa and cookies on the nightstand. “Here’s what you asked for,” he said. “And now I wish you a good night and sweet dreams.”

He was already turning as he heard her voice, “Don’t you want some cocoa, too?”

“Oh, of course, mine is waiting in the kitchen.”

The sheets rustled. “Accio Albus’ mug!” Hermione commanded and patted on the bed. “Please, I’d like to have company. Sit down with me, won’t you?”

Actually, Albus didn’t want to. Deflation charm done or not, to sit next to the woman he longed for and knowing that she was naked would be pain, and he’d never been in masochism. Now his mug was sailing through the door. He caught it and - well, it certainly looked stupid how he stood there with the mug in his hand and a sheepish expression on his face. He slowly sat down on her bed, looking around in the room. Typical for Hermione, one of the walls was covered with well filled book shelves. Next to them stood a cosy wing chair, a fluffy red blanket hanging over it. In front of the fireplace was a beige leather sofa, flanked by a chair in Gryffindor burgundy. On the mantelpiece, she’d put three photographs in glass frames. Albus recognized the smiling couple in the first as his in-laws. He’d only seen them once as he’d visited their house before Hermione had come to Hogwarts. They hadn’t attended their daughter’s wedding, which was something Hermione didn’t want to talk about. Her only comment had been, “They’ll need some time to become accustomed to the thought of you as my husband and father of their first grandchild.”

Next to their photograph stood a picture from Hermione’s closest friends: Ron and Harry, both proudly wearing their Auror robes; Ginny with her arm around Alastor’s shoulder; Minerva and Augustus waving at the photographer.

What Albus amazed most was the third picture. It showed Fawkes and himself. The phoenix sat on his raised hand, looking at him while he smiled. He remembered, Alastor had made this picture only a few days before the wedding, telling Albus that he needed a photograph from Fawkes for his classes.

Hermione obviously was amused about his puzzled look. There was a hint of irony in her voice as she said, “Isn’t one supposed to have a picture of one’s husband on the mantelpiece?”

Albus tried to joke against the awkwardness he felt. “Be honest, you wanted a photograph from Fawkes, but he wasn’t to have one without me.”

Hermione laughed. “Pity - you’ve once again seen right through me!” Shifting, she put her hand on his knee, becoming serious again. “Albus, the one symptom of pregnancy I couldn’t find something about in the books - the last days I’ve thought a lot about. I think you could help me to cope with it. Would you?”

Albus hadn’t the slightest idea what she meant, but - alas, he was responsible that she was pregnant. So he nodded. “Of course, whatever I can do for you.”

Hermione watched him and there was a glimmering in her eyes he couldn’t interpret. “You know,” she said, her voice low and throaty, “part of pregnancy are certain changes of the body. The hormone system is changing; the breasts are growing and become more sensitive.”

Albus started to sweat. That her breasts had grown, he’d registered. About them becoming more sensitive, he didn’t want to think. He’d gotten his over active penis down, but that didn’t mean that his mind was switched off, too!

Hermione didn’t give him a chance to calm himself. She was now laying her hands over her breasts and although Albus cursed himself for it, he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

It became worse! She spoke again, and why did her voice sound so smoky? “The breasts becoming so sensitive isn’t all. Other areas of the body become sensitive too, probably caused by the changed blood circulation there. It’s rather disturbing.”

He could only stare at her, his mouth dry and his mind in turmoil. What did she want from him? He wasn’t a healer; he didn’t know charms or spells to ease such problems!

Now her hand was on his thigh again. “Poppy says this happens often to pregnant women.”

Albus cleared his throat. “What did she advise you to do?” he asked.

Now Hermione sounded amused. “Healer’s orders, I should make use of - I quote Poppy - my husband’s ‘legendary talent’ in driving a woman’s tension away.”

Albus almost let his mug drop. “You mean…” he stammered. “I don’t think I got this right ….”

“I believe you did,” Hermione’s hand wandered up over his leg. “I want you to make love to me, Albus.” Now her fingers were on his lap, but found only softness there. “Oh ….” she blushed and pulled her hand away. “Sorry - I shouldn’t have….”

He caught her hand, pulled it up to his mouth and kissed it. “Hermione, that’s a case of what Alastor would call ‘fucking bad luck’.” Blushing he proceeded, “A few minutes before I’ve cast a deflating charm.”

“Why?” She didn’t look at him, but on the ceiling. “Is the thought of becoming seduced by me so ghastly? Or are you….”

“Hush!” He put his mug on the nightstand. Bending down, he kissed her. “The thought of becoming seduced by you is breathtaking. Only…” he sighed. “Hermione, dancing with you and holding you in the carriage was already enough to get me aroused. That’s why I’ve cast the charm. I didn’t want to embarrass myself.”

“Oh, Albus!” Hermione stroked over his cheek. “That’s really bad luck! I’ve been in need for several days now.”

He kissed her again. “Who says I’d need an erection to please my lovely, needy wife? Besides,” he shoved the blanket away and stroked with the tip of his finger down over her neck to the swell of her breasts, “I’m needy, too. That will make the charm wear off pretty soon.”

Hermione pulled at his shirt. “Come in bed to me, Albus. I want to feel your skin and to be in your arms.”

“With the greatest pleasure.” He slipped out of his shirt and his slippers and laid down to her, pulling the blanket away.

Hermione wrapped a strand of his hair around her finger. “I hope this charm really wears off soon,” she whispered. “Whenever I pleased myself in the last weeks I thought of you and how it feels when your cock stretches me ….”

Albus stopped her with a passionate kiss, and for the moment, he was almost glad about the deflating charm. Without it the sight of her, her full breasts with the chocolate brown, erect nipples; her swollen belly; the dark curls between her long legs, and her throaty voice, it would have been exceptionally hard not to jump on her. Even so, he was almost dizzy with lust and need, and there was her tongue, playing with his and her breast in his hand and her hand on his chest, her fingernails lightly scraping over his skin. He shifted, pushing his left arm under her neck. She was small and he had long arms, so he could easily reach her breast with his left hand while his right glided over her belly to her mound, stroking her soft skin.

She broke the kiss, turning her head to the side and moaning. “Albus, please! Don’t tease me!” Spreading her legs, she thrust her hips against his hand and pushed it down.

She was wet and hot and as he touched her clitoris, she arched her back and choked. “What do you want me to do?” he whispered. “Tell me, sweetest heart.”

Once again, she bucked. “Push your fingers in, please! I’m so empty!” she demanded, her voice so hoarse, it was almost inaudible now.

Willingly he obeyed, using index and middle finger, while in the same time, with his thumb stroking the pink pearl of her pleasure. He could feel how aroused she was. Her juice was dripping on his hand and her tight channel was clenching around his fingers.

“Albus, oh Albus! Why does - oh - this feel so much better - ah, yes, here, just here - when you do that, as when I do it myself?”

He couldn’t help smiling. “Probably because I have longer fingers?”

Hermione obviously hadn’t heard him. She was wriggling and trembling and screaming his name. “Albus, Albus - oh Gods, Albus! I’m coming!”

He gave her only a minute to recover, then he gripped one of the pillows, raised her butt, shoved the pillow under it and shifted down between her spread legs. He wanted to taste her and opening his mouth, he sucked at her.

“Albus - oh heavens, Albus! Do you want to kill me?” Her hands were in his hair, rummaging through it.

He licked through her cleft, parting her folds by it, flickering with his tongue over her clitoris. She tasted wonderfully, salty, fresh like the sea, and warm and womanly. Now he had her almost constantly moaning and whimpering and whenever he pushed his tongue in her channel, she whispered his name. He knew she was close again and he loved it.

The last months, he hadn’t been able to think of her without feeling the sharp pain of knowing himself guilty for her becoming hurt and put through the misery of being at odds with her parents and friends. He knew that he couldn’t make up for it anymore, but at this moment, he was at least able to give her some pleasure and a time in which she could forget what he’d done to her.

Perhaps his fate wasn’t as gruesome as he’d thought? It had gotten him a wonderful wife who showed him so much more loyalty as he deserved and who gave him the chance to be with her. Again, in a way, he was glad about the deflating charm. It made him able to show her that this was all about her and her pleasure.

She was coming again, this time not so furious, but in long waves which made her entire body tremble. He knew he had to be careful now, he didn’t want to overstrain her.

“Albus ….”

“Hmm?” He raised his head and looked up at her flushed, sweaty face.

“Come to me!” She opened her arms.

He pulled the pillow away and stretched, taking her in his arms. Kissing her forehead, he whispered, “Sweetest heart, you’re so beautiful!”

She snuggled against him. Taking his hand she put it on her belly. “Do you feel it?”

Albus concentrated on his palm, but there wasn’t something. “No, unfortunately not,” he responded sadly.

“In a few days you will!” Hermione comforted him.

“Was the baby just doing something?” he asked.

“Yes,” Hermione beamed. “Habakkuk was doing summersaults again. It was funny.”

Albus bit on his bottom lip. “Hermione, are you sure everything is okay?”

“In there?” Hermione stroked over her belly. “Certainly. Habakkuk is well.” She rolled on her side and looked at him. “Hey, you’re the one teaching sexual education in this school. Don’t you know that the amniotic fluid protects the baby from pushes? Even a rather passionate coupling only makes for the baby becoming softly swayed.” Playfully she tugged at a hair on his chest. “As Hogwarts resident specialist for all matters of sex, you actually should know something like that.”

Albus smiled at her. “Piccola, one of the reasons we’ve put sexual education on our syllabus is to avoid our students becoming pregnant. Hence the subject of ‘sex during a pregnancy’ isn’t one I’m familiar with. Besides, weren’t you there for the lessons? Don’t tell me Minerva’s star student played truant when I was, for once, teaching in her class!”

“I was there!” Hermione sounded almost insulted. “Don’t you remember? I was the one you made fun of twice. For months, I was teased about the research you advised me to do.”

Now it dawned on Albus. “Yes, I remember. You were the one who asked a question after my speech about the male erection.” He laughed. “That was indeed remarkable! Normally the girls are only blushing and giggling. The usual questions always come from the boys. So I was a bit surprised as you asked. Really, Hermione, I still don’t know the average angle of a fully erect penis against the abdomen.”

Hermione laughed. “Perhaps I should follow your advice and researching it myself.”

Albus grinned. “Do you think I’m average?”

Hermione painted with her fingertip a line around his nipple. “You certainly aren’t.” Laughing she added, “Lavender Brown was convinced about your equipment not being average, too. Only she believed it different in the other direction.”

Albus shook his head. “Hermione!” He shuddered. “Don’t tell me my privates were discussed in the Gryffindor common room!”

“It wasn’t in the common room, Albus,” Hermione giggled. “Our boys would have dropped dead. Therefore such discussions were always done in our dormitory.” Once again, she started laughing. “I’m obviously not the only one who remembers very well. As I told Ginny, since that we have been together, she asked me who would have been right, Padma or Lavender.”

Albus hid his face in his hands. “The thought of it! Brrr! I’ve always thought Filius would overdo it when he refused to teach the class, saying he wouldn’t want to have his privates discussed by our dear students.”

Hermione fidgeted in amusement. “They nevertheless talked about it, and the common opinion about our Charms master was that small packages often have a rather surprising big content. Yet in this case, no one wanted to do the research, while in your case ….”

“Hermione!” Albus sat up, looking down at her. “Now you’re making something up! Don’t try to make me believe someone in your dormitory would have volunteered to do research on me! You’re a Gryffindor. They’re not supposed to be in kinkiness!”

“Well,” Hermione’s hand was on his thigh now. “Laying a strong man who’s not only a mighty wizard, but known for being a ladies man, I certainly wouldn’t name kinky. Padma obviously didn’t think so, either. She was very interested in becoming acquainted with ‘both your wands’ as she put it.”

“Oh Merlin!” Albus rolled his eyes. “Teenagers!”

Hermione laughed. “Perhaps you should show your wand more often?”

“Me? Why?” Albus demanded to know.

“Don’t you remember? In class we talked about rumours connected to sex, like boys maintaining it would be unhealthy to have an erection without coming to a climax. Lavender asked you if there really is a connection between the size and shape of a wizard’s wand and his penis. You denied, but Lavender didn’t believe you. In the night after that lesson, she said you’d have only denied because you wouldn’t want to reveal that your privates aren’t up to the average. That would be the reason for you never showing your wand. It would be tiny, too.”

Albus laughed. “Piccola, I think under these circumstances, you wouldn’t like me showing my wand more often.”

Hermione looked at him. “I just try to remember your wand, but the few times I saw you using it, I was so busy with other things I didn’t look properly at it. You actually only use it when in trouble….”

“…or too tired to concentrate,” Albus finished the line for her. “However, if you want a look at it ….” He crooked his finger. “Accio my wand.” A few seconds later, his wand sailed in. He caught it and gave it to Hermione.

She looked at it and then at him. “Well, it’s really rather tiny. It reminds me on a conductor’s baton.”

Albus smiled. He liked his new wand with the silver handle. “Nine inch cypress wood with a phoenix core.”

“Fawkes?” Hermione asked.

“No,” Albus shook his head. “Fawkes gave Ollivander only two feathers. One of them was in Tom Riddle’s wand, the other in the one Harry lost during the battle against Riddle. The feather in my wand was plucked from my own Animagus form.”

Hermione still studied the wand. “I think it’s really the smallest one I’ve ever seen.”

Albus laughed. “Ollivander says it’s one of the shortest he ever made, and cursed because it was difficult to get the feather in it. However, I don’t like long wands.”

“Why?” Hermione took her eleven inch wand from the nightstand, comparing it with Albus’.

“Where do you wear yours?” Albus asked.

“That depends,” Hermione answered. “When I’m in trousers, the wand is in a hidden pocket at my right thigh. When I wear a dress, it’s a pocket on my hip or in one of the sleeves.”

”With me it’s the left sleeve, and in times I carried a long wand, I was Ollivander’s best customer. I broke wands by leaning on it; I got a few times splinters of it in my arm; I even managed once to mess around with it so much, I gave myself a black eye. I’m a bit clumsy with wands, and the longer they are, the more difficult the handling, I find. By destroying so many wands, I became the only wizard in England who isn’t an Auror, but got nevertheless permission to keep a spare wand. Since Ollivander makes short wands for me, I don’t break them anymore.”

Hermione put both wands on her nightstand. “Albus, can one learn to do wandless magic or is it a unique talent of yours?” she asked.

“It’s simple enough to learn,” Albus answered. “Only the ministry doesn’t want to make this widely known. Wandless magic isn’t to track.”

“Yet it’s not against the law, is it?”

“Fudge wanted once a law against it, but Augustus and Amanda Bones stopped him, saying that even I couldn’t do any strong curses without a wand. There wasn’t any danger that Voldemort and his followers would mess around with wandless magic,” Albus explained.

Hermione snorted. “It sounds like one of Fudge’s ideas to get you. Who, except you, uses wandless magic?” Stroking softly over his thigh she asked, “Albus, did you ever do something to annoy Fudge personally, except making him look a fool every time he came close to you? I’ve always wondered why he hated you so much. He sometimes behaved as if you’d nicked his wife away.”

Albus laughed. “Piccola, I assure you, I never touched Mrs Fudge, and Miss Cornelia Fudge, the beloved sister of our former minister, I refused to touch also. I reckon that was one of the reasons Cornelius disliked me.”

“He wanted you to sleep with his sister?” Hermione wondered.

“In conclusion, yes. He wanted me to marry her,” Albus told. “She was not my type. Cornelia is one of these ladies who believe themselves the ‘pillars of society’. She spends her time with organizing charity events, balls and tea parties with wealthy women. During the time she was after me, she found FAHC.”

“Friends and Alumni of Hogwarts Club,” Hermione translated the abbreviation. “Renamed to ‘Fangirls and Admirers of the Headmaster Club’ by Alastor.”

Albus rolled his eyes. “I’m glad my staff is at least amused by the ladies. I rarely am.”

Hermione grinned rather maliciously. “It must be so hard to be slobbered at by dozens of women!”

Her fingertips touched his testicles, sending shivers down his spine. He felt a prickle in his member and shifted his hips to come closer to her hand. Kissing her shoulder, he whispered, “I only want one woman.”

Now Hermione’s index finger went deeper, over the underside of his scrotum, lightly touching the sensitive flesh between his legs. He moaned and Hermione chuckled. “I take it the deflating charm has worn off.”

“It seems so.” He breathed deeply and caught her hand. “Hermione, you don’t have to sleep with me now. You’re probably tired and ….”

“I’m not!” she interrupted him. “Besides, I want you very much.” Gripping his still soft penis, she kissed the tip of his nose. “Albus, your fingers and your mouth feel wonderful, but I still want more - all of you.”

He moaned quietly because she was now massaging his shaft. He felt how the blood floated in his groin and how his penis started to grow. Yet it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. The deflating charm had made him oversensitive and around the base, it felt as if he’d become pierced with needles. As Hermione touched the area, Albus couldn’t suppress twitching.

She noticed it immediately. “What’s the matter, Albus? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” he breathed deeply. “I’m only a bit touchy. The charm ….”

“Oh, Albus, I’m so sorry!” Hermione stroked his tight again, looking at his now almost full erection. “What am I to do with you now?”

The prickle had become really unpleasant now. He closed his eyes, trying to suppress the ache. “I’m sorry, Hermione.” He was once again sure that fate laughed at him and it made him angry. “I’m obviously becoming the master of messing things up. Even here I’m of no use for you.”

“Albus!” She looked down at him, her face serious. “I don’t deny that I would have liked to sleep with you. However, I didn’t intend to ‘use’ you! Besides, we will deal with this together.”

“Hermione, you don’t have to deal with it. It’s a problem I’ve caused, so I’ll have to solve it,” he said and turned away from her. He felt ashamed and embarrassed and would have liked to go down in his chambers, away from her.

“For heaven’s sake, Albus!” Hermione became cross now too. “You stubborn Slytherin! It was idiotically enough to cast a deflating charm when I was just asking you to visit me in my bedroom, but to deal with it now on your own would even be more moronic! Lie down and keep quiet!” She turned, stood up, took her wand and marched to the bathroom.

Albus lent back in the pillows and closed his eyes. What had begun as an unpleasant prickling had now become a serious burning. Provoking an erection shortly after using a deflating charm obviously wasn’t a good idea. However, even worse was the thought of how much he’d have liked to sleep with Hermione. He’d so longed for her and she’d wanted him too and now - now she came with a towel and an ice bag. “Oh no!” he moaned.

Hermione climbed on the bed. “It’s at the moment the best way to get rid of this erection, Albus. You’ll feel better then, I’m sure.” She laid the towel over his groin and put the ice bag cautiously on it.

In the first moment, it hurt. The fabric of the towel seemed too raw, the weight of the ice bag too much. He closed his eyes and bit on his bottom lip.

Hermione was on his side, stroking softly his hair out of his forehead. “Poor Albus! Will you promise me something?”

Now the cold of the ice bag was working, soothing the burning. He opened his eyes and looked at her. “Sweetest heart ….”

“You shall promise me you won’t use a deflating charm again. We can’t afford damaging the family jewels, can we?”

To be continued…