Virgin Fever

Hey, so this is my first story attempt. I’ve been a long time reader on this site but I never made an account before now. This story is just an excuse to write smut basically lol. There will be numerous character pairings and a possible 3 some, and I will take requests because I only have the first 2 chapters written, and I don’t know how long it will be, or how dirty it will get. I’m just doing this for fun and I am in no way a professional writer, so please help me keep this fun by withholding your thoughts that I must be a horrible person with a horribly dirty mind… Thanks.

Summary: A potion that acts as a virus has been unleashed at Hogwarts, and no virgin is safe. Can Head Girl Hermione and HB Draco finish the cure before it’s too late? This story takes place as if the war happened during the summer between the trio’s sixth and seventh year, Voldemort’s side lost, and Snape is alive because I love him too much.

It was a rainy and cold night when a hooded figure stepped out into the dimly lit passage between Knockturn and Diagon Alley. Though the hidden face and the black robes suggested he belonged with the sorts that frequented Knockturn Alley, he headed toward the right, and the glowing orbs that hung in the air around the tall white building that was Gringotts bank.

He checked his watch as he walked up the marble stairs. He still had twenty minutes, plenty of time as long as the goblins didn’t give him any trouble.

“Vault 764, and quickly,” he sneered at the counter, presenting the little creature with a golden key.

“Why Sir, that is not your vault, as I’m sure you are aware. Hand me a key to your own vault and I will gladly arrange for your transport. Otherwise, do be on your way,” the goblin replied curtly, raising the scaly skin above his eye where the brow would be on a human.

“That vault belongs to my dear old friend, Horace Slughorn. He died last night”— by my hand—“and it was in his Will that I retrieve the contents of one of his vaults.” Well, it was now.

He handed over the piece of parchment that granted him possession of one of the Great Potions’ Masters most prized but forbidden treasures. The goblin eyed it skeptically, his spindly fingers running slowly along the edges. The hooded man waited with bated breath; the wizard who forged the Will was supposed to be the best, but goblins were the best at recognizing a fake.

Just when he had given up hope that this would work and was about to hightail his arse out of there, the goblin set down the yellowed paper and stared inquisitively at the man. The man stared back unblinking, trying to intimidate the little creature. Apparently it had worked, because shortly after the goblin snapped his fingers and called “Arsnip!” and a second goblin appeared.

“Follow me,” it said in a low, hoarse voice. Smirking to himself, the hooded man followed the goblin through the locked double-doors and into a cart that had probably seen better days. He swore the bottom was practically rusted through, but he wasn’t about to complain. He was getting paid extremely well for his troubles. Though he would have preferred not to have had to kill his old Potions professor to get this far – Slughorn had easily thrown off his Imperius and he had no choice if he didn’t want to end up in Azkaban – it was but a small price to pay to have his fortune restored.

He’d spent the summer scrounging for food for his wife and son, barely able to keep the shabby roof of a one-room shack over their heads. He’d lost everything after the war, and now he was going to be given enough galleons to keep him and his family living comfortably for many years to come.  All he had to do was hand over the tiny vial of some dangerous potion to some woman. He didn’t know or care what she needed it for, he just wanted his money and to forget all about what he’d done to get it.

The goblin had already stuck its long, dirty fingernail into the lock before he had even noticed the cart had stopped. He quickly leapt from the vehicle, careful not to let his eyes wander into the endless abyss below, and strode confidently towards the open vault. Expecting to find hoards of gold, he was taken aback by the single shelf, housing only small, dusty vials of murky potions. The rest of the space held nothing but cobwebs.

There were only around ten or so vials, and it didn’t take him long to find the one he was there for. A small label fastened to the stopper read “Febbre Virgine”. At first glance he almost thought the glass vial was empty, but then he noticed a tiny drop of crimson liquid floating in the center in the shape of a heart. He picked it up and pocketed it, feeling a strange heat radiating from the glass, and then turned to the rest of the potions. He figured that if they were important enough to be stored in a vault, they must be valuable.

“If you take what is not yours, you are nothing more than a petty thief. Thieves may go in, but rarely do they come back out,” the goblin sneered. The man’s hand recoiled from the bottle of shimmering gold potion and he grudgingly stepped out of the vault and back into the cart.

The waves of heat emitting from the vial and thoughts of his impending fortune kept him warm even as the icy wind whipped through his hair, while the cart sped towards the surface at top speeds.

He hardly had a thought to spare for what some old woman that resembled a toad had in store for such a strange little drop of potion…

…..

“But how will I know if the girl I give it to is a virgin?”

The woman let out a squeak that may have been an attempt at laughter. “Oh, you must be joking. You can’t think of one girl that is of age that you know must be a virgin? That no man would possibly touch no matter how hormonal or intoxicated he may be?” The old witch smiled evilly, showing two very pointed teeth.

“Well, there’s the mudblood, Granger… But Potter or Weasley might have gotten to her already. I could give it to her though. Maybe we’ll be lucky.”

The sinister smile disappeared in an instant.

“I cannot rely on luck with this, as much as I’d like nothing more than to see that girl get what’s coming to her. If she is indeed a virgin, it won’t be long before it spreads and she gets it anyway… Think! One witch…”

The man’s features were scrunched in concentration. He had slept with most of Slytherin, so they were out, but there had to be one witch in sixth or seventh year that hadn’t had her cherry popped…

“Why does she have to be of age again? Wouldn’t it be easier to just give it to a first year?”

“No you idiot boy! The witch has to have gone through puberty.”

The skinny boy stared blankly at her, and the woman let out a breath of air in frustration.

“She has to have had her monthly visitor! The potion will lie dormant until the most fertile time in her cycle, then it will – wait a minute. I don’t need to explain this to you. Just make sure it is ingested by a virgin… an of age virgin, and your father walks free. Fail, and he may just have a little accident.”

The most hated professor Hogwarts had ever seen stood and straitened her pink tweed skirt, smiled in what she thought to be a sweet, kind manner, and left the alley.

What a crazy old… crazy…

And then it hit him. It was so obvious he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it before.

The guaranteed virgin was Luna Lovegood.