Title: Or Are You Just Happy To See Me?
Author: elfwreck or Erica
Team: Wartime
Genre/s: Humor
Prompt: Ollivander's
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Spoilers:  See Snarry Games post for warnings.

Word count: 14,000+
A/N: Many many thanks to joanwilder / Raewhit who did a wonderful last-minute beta, fixing scads of hideous capitalization errors and some atrocious Americanizations of British terms. And much love to the poor mods who put up with both my lateness and my spaciness in not informing them about my lateness.

Summary: A wizard's wand enhances his life
It helps him survive if he hasn't a wife
It keeps him from grief
And brings him relief
The time he spends with it is often too brief—
A wizard's wand has a knob on the end!




…Or Are You Just Happy To See Me?


Harry woke on his 18th birthday to the pleasant, familiar feeling of a hand around his cock. He smiled as it trailed fingers up and down his shaft, and gasped as it gripped him. His eyes fluttered as it pumped furiously; his legs twisted in the blankets. He kept trying to shape words, but his breath was too ragged; he managed "ghuh" and "yha" and tried to say "more," but all that came out was "muh," and then he was beyond words and the hand was pulling and twisting, just so, just like that, and it went still and squeezed hard, right at the base, with the fingertips spread over the edges of his bollocks, and Harry erupted, spilling over the hand and the blankets as he shuddered, and then the hand stroked him gently back to softness.

As he brought himself fully awake, he thought, just once, I'd like that to be someone else's hand. As he slowly stood up he reconsidered. Well, maybe more than just once. Maybe a lot more.

Harry grabbed his wand with a sticky hand, waved it half-heartedly around the room and mumbled, "Scourgify" a few times. He missed a few spots. He thought about trying to be more thorough, and decided not to bother... he just wasn't very good at cleaning up this kind of mess. Or maybe Scourgify just wasn't the right spell for it, but he couldn't very well ask Hermione if she knew a good spell for Banishing spunk, now could he?

Shaking his head at the idea, he wandered into his shower to clean himself and get ready for his birthday guests.

* * *

"Oi! Harry, who's this from, then?" Fred was holding up a slender white box, about as long as his forearm, with a green ribbon and no bow.

"Dunno. Haven't seen it before. I thought you brought it."

"Nah. We just brought Neville's gift because he couldn't get away from work."

George broke in. "He said that when firedrakes swarmed over the greenhouse last week, it ripened the frillberries and if he doesn't get them harvested now, there won't be any Pepper-Up Potion for the winter."

Harry thought about that for a moment.

"Well, let him know I forgive him. I know the Aurors are going through a lot of Pepper-Up these days."

George grabbed the package away from Fred, and shook it. Something tapped against the sides of the box. Harry grabbed it back from them.

"Hey! That's mine! Don't break it before I even find out what it is!"

Ron looked up from where he and Hermione were sitting on the couch, admiring the book Tonks had given Harry. Or rather, Hermione was admiring Beyond Jelly-Legs: Jinxes For Adults; Ron was peering over her shoulder and only sometimes got as far as the text in the book. He spoke up.

"You'll have to open it now, Harry. Once they've decided a package is interesting, they don't let up until they know what's inside. Broke Mum's anniversary gift one year, they did, shaking it like that."

George scowled at him. "We didn't break it. Not really."

"Wasn't our fault Dad didn't put any padding around the vase."

"Besides, a little Reparo and it was good as new. She never even knew."

Harry broke in.

"It's okay; I planned on opening this next anyway. But if you didn't bring it, who did?"

He looked around the room. Three Weasleys shrugged (Ginny was currently annoyed at Harry--something about his interest in the Wasp's star Beater), Hermione looked curious, and Tonks shook her head. Remus said, "This house has a lot of odd hiding places. Maybe someone hid it a while ago, and that Accio Presents spell brought it in here along with the others we'd brought today. It might," and here, he swallowed hard, and looked down as he whispered, "it might even be from Sirius."

Harry looked over the package more carefully. Plain white box, about a palm's size square on the ends, a bit longer than his forearm. Green ribbon. Tiny card that said only, "To Harry Potter On His 18th Birthday," in a formal but non-distinctive script.

Now every eye in the room was watching him. He took a deep breath, and untied the ribbon. It slithered to the table as he lifted the lid off the box. His brow furrowed as he looked inside. The wand inside was... somehow almost obscene. Thicker than any other wand he'd ever seen, a bit thicker than a broomstick. White, smooth, tapering near the tip and then flaring out to a knob that looked like... Harry blushed.

"It's a wand. It's, ahh… white. But I've already got a wand."

Fred snatched the box away before Harry could stop him. Careful not to touch the wand itself--the twins were very aware of magical incompatibility problems--he reached around it, and brought out a paper folded in thirds. He let out a long, low whistle.

"Wow, Harry, someone really likes you. A lot. But I don't think this is from Sirius, unless he planned it before you were born."

"What is it?" Ron asked.

Fred waved the paper around, too fast for anyone to really see. George grabbed it from him, and started reading, "Congratulations! You are now the owner of an Ollivanders' Oodles Of Orgies Wand! Your new OoOW" (he pronounced it "oo-oo") "will bring you hours of joyful play if used with care! Your OoOW is made of oosik, and prepared with an ancient process to be especially suited for a very specific kind of magical work. The following spells were designed especially for the OoOW; please study them carefully..." George's voice trailed off as he started to read the tiny print.

Remus' eyes went wide. "I've heard of those, but I'd never seen one. Ollivander stopped making them years ago."

Fred looked over at him. "During the war. The first war. George and I have been trying to buy one for ages, but nobody who's got one wants to sell."

Tonks snickered.

"A wizard's wand has a knob on the end,
For blasting his foes and sharing with friends,
It shows off his power,
Makes enemies cower
With enough talent, it'll wave for an hour,
A wizard's wand has a knob on the end."

Fred continued,

"A wizard's wand is his to enjoy
It's almost always his favorite toy.
It's his wand alone,
It can be made of bone
Or some kind of hardwood, or even of stone
A wizard's wand has a knob on the end."

George picked up the next verse:

"A wizard's wand fits well in his hand
The most useful tool in all of the land
If he oils it often,
It never will soften,
If he is lucky he'll take it to his coffin…"

All three of them joined together for the last line:

"A wizard's wand has a knob on the end!"

George said, "Hey Harry--if you decide you don't like it, would you let me and Fred run some tests on it? Ollivanders' special wands are legendary in some circles. We've been trying to make something like them, but without a real one to test, it's kinda hard..."

"No," said Fred," that's the problem. Without the right wand, it's not hard."

Harry had started blushing at the word "orgies," and was now staring at his shoes. Hermione looked confused, like she was trying to decide whether to be curious or offended. Remus walked over to Fred and took the box back, and handed it to Harry.

"Here. Better take this. As embarrassing as it seems, it really is valuable--it's a very special gift for a coming-of-age party."

Harry couldn't meet his eyes, but he nodded, and took the box. He tried to set it down on the table, but Tonks said, "Go on, then. Pick it up, give it a try. We're all dying of curiosity. "

Harry started to shake his head, but as he looked around the room, he realized that they weren't going to let him just set it aside. With a sigh, he picked up the wand.

It felt... comfortable. Smooth and cool. He waved it a tiny bit, and felt a stirring that made him blush again. He swallowed. He waved it in a circle, and felt a rush of arousal. He drew in a shaky breath. He tried to think of a simple spell to try with it. "Lumos!"

The room was instantly filled with a soft red light, with slow-moving white spots of light circling the walls. Everyone was quiet for a moment. The light definitely seemed... suggestive. Ron snuggled a bit closer to Hermione. Remus put his arm around Tonks, and rested his chin on her shocking red hair. Harry felt himself start to lean into whichever twin was next to him. Everyone's breathing seemed to slow. Harry felt fingertips brush across his hip, felt a familiar throbbing start in his pants.

One of the twins whispered in Harry's ear, "The paper says that some spells might work differently."

"Nox," Harry said in a panicked voice.

"Hey, what was that for?" asked the twin. Fred, he thought.

Harry gulped. "I, err, don't want..." he trailed off. He wasn't sure what he wanted. But it wasn't six people looking at him like he'd just thrown a bucket of ice water over his own party.

Not sure what to do, he blurted out, "What's oosik?"

George leaned over and whispered to him. Harry goggled at him and said, "Walrus WHAT?!" George nodded. Harry said, "But that's obscene!"

George said, "That's kind of the idea, Harry. Here, try one of these spells. One that it's designed for. Maybe that won't be as... surprising."

Harry glanced over the short list of spells, and blushed again. He shook his head wordlessly.

"Go ahead. We're up for it," he said. Harry tried to banish the images that brought to mind, and failed. His breath caught.

Fred looked over the paper. He pointed at a spell halfway down. "Try this one, Harry. C'mon. It'll be fun. You're supposed to cut loose a bit on your birthday, you know."

Harry took the paper. He couldn't focus on the small print describing the effects, not with both twins leaning on him and almost whispering into his ears. But the instructions were clear enough: wave the wand in a circle pointing up while saying the words. The description said something about making a "fun party atmosphere." He took a deep breath, lifted the wand, and drew a circle in the air.

"Exibeo Solumi!"

Instantly, the lights went dim again, and everyone's clothing was replaced with black Merry Widow-style corsets, g-string underwear, garter belts and fishnet stockings. Except the twins, whose clothes were replaced by some kind of shiny gold tunics. Very short tunics. With fishnet stockings instead of trousers. He looked down, and discovered his own corset was red, not black.

Harry looked around... tried to just look at faces, but couldn't. His eyes trailed down at the front of the corsets--Hermione was suddenly much more curvy than he was used to noticing, and Remus was a lot more muscular than he remembered, and the corset stopped short of the top of the black garter belt, which nicely framed the bulge of.... he looked away. The twins, on either side of him, trailed fingers up the side of his arms, and smiled.

"Mmm, quite the party we've got here," one of them said.

Harry gulped, and fled to the safety of his room.

* * *

Away from watchful eyes and the twins' winking, he looked over the paper telling him about his new wand. It did indeed say that oosik was "fossilized walrus penis bone," and that they were up to two feet long, and often cut down to single wand length. This one was about the same size as his regular wand. He looked over the wand itself. It wasn't entirely straight; it was a bit thicker in some spots, thinner in others, like it was designed to be gripped, not just held with fingertips the way normal wands often were. It fit into his hand like... like his dick had this morning, smooth and sleek and... fun to touch. He slid his thumb up and down on it as he read the pamphlet.

It had a short list of spells. He thought about trying one of them, and remembered he had guests downstairs, who'd almost certainly be following him as soon as they decided he'd recovered from his shock. He decided he needed to face them, took in a deep breath--and realized he was still wearing the corset. It did odd things to his breathing, and it rather itched around his waistline. Below that, the garter belt tickled his thighs when he moved, and the pants were getting decidedly uncomfortable. He felt a bit guilty as he looked around, realized nobody was watching, and trailed his fingers over the front of the pants.

The sensation was incredible. He'd never worn tight, silky underpants before. He cupped his hand over the front of them, shifted things around a bit, and pressed gently... he found himself rocking back and forth, just a little, enjoying the feeling. He started to rub a bit more earnestly. He grew harder; the tip of his penis just peeked out from the satin.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Oi, Harry, you okay?" came Ron's worried voice.

Harry took several quick breaths, looked down at the pamphlet, and in a strangled whisper, said "Erectagoner!"

Instantly, he went limp, and fit entirely into the underwear. He sighed in relief.

Ron continued, "I know you're embarrassed, but I think you have to end the spell. Nothing we've tried has brought our clothes back."

Harry waved the wand around and said "Finite Incantatum!" His normal clothes returned. Ron said, "Thanks! Now, are you gonna let me in? Or come back downstairs?

Harry opened the door. "Sorry 'bout that, mate. I guess I got spooked."

"I don't blame you... that was all pretty intense. I guess I owe you thanks, though. I'd never have gotten to see Hermione in that outfit otherwise."

"Is everyone... angry at me?"

"Nah. Hermione was okay once she got done blushing. I think Tonks and Remus are kinda too busy trying to suck each others' tonsils to mind. And you know Fred and George… they approve of anything that involves people getting naked. Or almost naked."

Harry nodded; the twins would never be angry about a prank involving lingerie.

"So," Harry asked, "d'you think I should rejoin the party? Or call it over?"

"Oh, come on. They'd all like to see what else that wand can do. If you're not too shy, that is."

Harry allowed himself to be shuffled back downstairs to the living room and seated on the couch. Remus smiled to put him at ease.

"That was some spell."

Hermione spoke up. "That's a very powerful wand, Harry. I don't know any normal spells that can change seven people's clothing all at once."

George said, "Yeah, I tried casting the spell again with my wand, after you ended it, and all I got was this—" He held up a feather boa and a pair of black high-heeled shoes. "So, what else is on that list?"

Harry wasn't able to meet his eyes, but he did hand over the pamphlet. Fred looked over his shoulder.

"Erectus—that's pretty obvious."

George pointed his wand at Ron and said, "Erectus!" The results were immediately apparent; a tent rose in his pants.

"Hey!" Ron shouted, and cupped his hands over his crotch.

"And there's a counterspell, Erectagoner," Fred continued. George obligingly tried that on Ron as well. Ron relaxed.

"So apparently some of them will work with normal wands," Tonks said. "Hey, Harry, you try it with your wand."

Harry looked around. "Who?" he asked.

Tonks looked thoughtful. "Well, George seems to be in an experimental mood."

Ron nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, turnabout and all that. Try it," he said.

Harry looked at George, who grinned. "Go ahead. It's not like I've never had a stiffie. Show Ron what a real man looks like." Ron scowled.

Harry pointed the thick, white wand at George, and said, "Erectus!"

George gasped. "Owww!" His pants weren't just tented, they were spiked—it was obvious that whatever was pushing against them was hard. George's face was strained. He doubled over, tried to adjust his pants, and gave up when that obviously wasn't helping. "Aaah… god… never been this hard…." He started undoing his belt. He unzipped his fly and started to push down his trousers. Harry hadn't seen a lot of erect men, but he'd seen plenty of naked guys in the showers. He was pretty sure that most weren't that big. Nor that hard. It looked… painful. That's when Harry snapped out of his fascinated staring.

"Erectagoner!" he said. Instantly, the bulge in George's underpants faded to a normal size.

George sighed. "Thanks. That was… interesting."

Fred leered at him. "It looked interesting from here."

"You can wait until we get home. I am not an exhibitionist."



Remus broke in. "Now we know it's a different kind of wand. That explains why they're so famous in some circles."

Tonks took the paper away from George, who protested.

"You've had enough fun for now," she said. She handed the paper to Hermione. "Here, what d'you think of these?"

Hermione looked it over.

"Erectus, Erectagoner, Lubricus—that's pretty obvious too; I don't think we need an example—" At that, Remus reached over and took Fred's wand away from him, then nodded at Hermione to continue.

"There's the Floor Show spell—that's the one you did earlier, Harry—and there's Aerosoftus for creating a comfortable mattress, and Nudicorpus to remove clothes and Vesticorpus to put them back quickly, and something that says it "creates a relaxing erotic atmosphere."

"What's the words?" said Harry.

"Shagadelic totalis," she said.

"I think I'll hold off on that one."

"I think that's a good idea."

After a moment of silence, Harry asked, "Is that all?"

"That's all that's in here. It says that many regular spells have slightly different effects, and some won't work at all with this wand. There's a list of recommended reading and suggested studies books—it says that one was written especially for use with this wand. Oh, and it's got a coupon for two Galleons off any purchase at some bookshop in Knockturn Alley."

"Maybe I'll visit the bookshop tomorrow. Do some birthday shopping."

Remus broke in. "Maybe you shouldn't go, Harry. Knockturn Alley's always been a bit iffy, and it's actively dangerous these days. A lot of people don't even go to Diagon Alley anymore."

"I'll be careful. But I can't let them keep me in hiding all the time—then they've already won. Hogwarts almost closed this last year; we can't let them keep the whole wizarding world living in fear."

Remus looked doubtful.

"I mean," Harry continued, "I know they're out there. I know Snape knows where this place is, and that we're lucky the Fidelius Charm is strong enough to keep him from leading the others here. But I can't hide forever." His voice dropped. "That's what got Sirius killed—being cooped up for so long that he grabbed the first real excuse to leave, and wasn't prepared."

George said, "If you run across Snape, just hit him with the Erectus spell. I guarantee you it'll stop him in his tracks."

Fred replied, "Nah. He doesn't deserve the pleasure." Everyone laughed.

* * *

That night, as he was falling into sleep, Harry thought about Snape. He was in that state partway between active imagination and dreaming, and thought of running into him in front of the bookstore, and yelling how much he hated him, how he would make him pay for killing Dumbledore.

"Murderer! Traitor! You should be dead! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

Even in his dreams, Snape wasn't cowed. He couldn't imagine Snape doing anything but sneering at him. He could almost hear his voice saying, "Oh, do shut up, Potter."

As he slipped into dreaming, Harry thought of zapping him with his new wand. He dreamed that he was facing Snape in the street—Harry in his plain blue robes, Snape in rags even more tattered than Remus'. After all, he's been on the run for over a year. Surely he's looking a bit threadbare.

Dream-Snape scowled at him, and raised his wand. Harry was quicker, grabbing his new white wand, and yelling, "ERECTUS!" A huge, stiff tent immediately appeared in the front of Snape's robes. Obviously, Snape wasn't wearing anything restrictive under his robe; equally obvious, he had a lot more to restrict than George had. His erection raised the hem of his ragged robe by several inches.

Snape, however, didn't flinch or double over as George had. Harry swallowed, looking down at the… situation… he'd created. Snape advanced on him slowly, and Harry stepped backwards until he was against a wall. Harry tried to press himself into the stone as Snape moved closer. Harry realized that Snape wasn't going to have to lean towards him at all to press… that… into him. It was huge. Harry shuddered when it touched his belly, and then it slid upward as Snape pressed against him. He could feel the full length of it, from just below his navel to the center of his ribcage, hot and hard.

"Is this what you wanted, Potter?" Snape hissed into his ear. Harry whimpered as Snape rocked against him. Snape shifted his feet apart, which brought him lower, so the pressure started at Harry's beltline—except that he wasn't wearing trousers beneath his robes. His own cock was throbbing now, and he slowly started to reach down and at least adjust the robes which were suddenly stretched too tight, but Snape saw his hands moving, and grabbed his wrists. He brought them together over Harry's head, pinning him to the cold brick wall.

"I don't think so, Mister Potter. No easy release for you. After all, you've given me this… problem…" And with that, Snape pressed himself hard against Harry, who writhed against the wall. "What shall I do with you? Hmm? Force you to your knees, perhaps, and see if your mouth is useful for anything besides insults?"

Harry jerked his head from side to side, once, but he wasn't sure if he was saying no or just trying to see Snape's face. It didn't work; Snape's hair covered the side of his face, and his lips were very close to Harry's ear. He was whispering.

"Or shall I turn you around, lift your robes, gag you so you can't scream, and find out whether you can cast a wordless Lubricus?" Harry shook, and tried to twist away, but Snape held his wrists tightly, and the cock against his midsection was like a steel rod pinning him in place.

"Oh, but I think you're enjoying this much more than you want to admit, Mister Potter." Snape held both Harry's wrists in one hand, and his other hand spidered down Harry's arm, making Harry shiver. Snape's hand dropped behind Harry, squeezing one buttock, and Harry pressed closer into Snape's hardness in front. Then the hand crept around to the front, slid between their bodies. As Snape's long fingers touched the bulge that had grown in the front of Harry's robe, Harry bucked involuntarily into his hand.

"Quite the wanton, Mister Potter. But I think I know what to do with you now." Snape outlined Harry's cock through his robes, tracing the edges of his hardness. Harry panted. When Snape's fingers pressed gently against the tip, Harry groaned.

At that sound, Snape took a step back, and Harry staggered, off-balance. Snape sneered at him. "Adolescent." His eyes flicked down to the still-huge erection hidden by his robes, poking ridiculously straight out in front of him. He shook his head, and his voice grew angry. "What do you think you're doing here? I am not your sex-toy!"

And with that, he drew his own wand and Disapparated.

Harry was left in utter confusion, leaning against a wall with a painful raging erection. He looked around for a place to go, a shop to step into, but they were all closed; the street was empty. He leaned back against the wall, too dizzy to Apparate, too exhausted to walk just now. His cock was so hard it was hurting, and he reached down, thinking he'd just shift it around so his clothes weren't pressing on it so tightly, but when he reached through the pocket of his robe, he tugged it, just a bit, through the thin cloth of the pocket and the stretchy fabric of his underwear.

And then he was stroking himself, leaning back against the wall, new white wand dangling from his right hand as his left moved inside his robe, pulling and stroking, wishing the cloth weren't in the way but not able to stop long enough to remove it (and besides, what if someone sees?) and he looked around quickly (but didn't stop moving his hand, no, it's too good, too intense), but there's nobody on the street anywhere and isn't that strange but he's too close, the hand is moving faster (and wasn't that something, a hand not his, even if it was Snape, even over the robes), just like now, through the cloth, and he's rubbing and pulling, trying to re-create Snape's all-too-brief touch on his cock and Snape's voice echoes in his ears, "Is this what you wanted?" and that's all it takes; he's pulsing into the hand, soaking his shorts, but he doesn't stop moving, keeps stroking through the cloth until he's completely spent.

Harry woke with his hand wrapped around his wet, twisted sheet.

He sighed, and reached for his wand without thinking. He muttered a half-hearted "Scourgify" as he did on most mornings—but this time, he noticed something different. The bedsheet was completely clean and dry, and the smell vanished entirely. Then he realized he had grabbed his new wand—the one he was already thinking of as the "oo-oo wand"—by mistake.

Maybe this wand'll be useful. At least it cleans up after itself, he thought. Wonder what other surprises it's got.

He tried very hard not to think about his dream as he went to shower.

* * *

Harry went to the tiny bookshop alone. He didn't want the twins making jokes at him, nor to remind Ron how... different his tastes were. Besides, it was in Knockturn Alley, and if he'd told his friends when he was going, they'd've forbidden it, or insisted on a collection of bodyguards, and he just wasn't up for that.

Once he got past the embarrassment, the wand was rather fun. He'd like to learn the other spells designed for it, mentioned in the pamphlet—and the dream about Snape gave him the idea that some of the spells might even be usable against Death Eaters. Except maybe not that one. Maybe there was a spell he could use to give Draco a painful rash, or something like that. He wandered around Knockturn Alley, lost in thought, until he found the bookstore mentioned on the coupon.

The sign said Wormius & Sons Fyne Books: New, Used, and Rare. He recognized it at once… it was the same street he'd "visited" in his dream. He hadn't been able to read the signs in the shops, but the colors were the same. He decided he must've been here at some point in his past, and forgotten the details. He steadfastly ignored the little voice that tried to remind him that he'd only ever been in Knockturn Alley once, in second year, and it was nowhere near here.

He browsed the shelves in the dim light. He could barely read the names of the books, and after pushing the dust off a few of them, he wasn't sure he wanted to find more.

The Single Wizard's Bedroom Companion by Grand Master Bates. That one had a lot of pictures of strange objects. Harry turned the book upside down, but they still looked strange. Some of them, he couldn't figure out if they were inserted or not.

Group Games, by Sir Kell Jerque. That was an oversized coffee-table book, with a lot of photos. There were men in a ring with their names in the snow; Harry turned the page before he could see how the names got there. The next page had three men and three women kneeling on the edge of a huge bed, all naked, all with magical blindfolds, their hands tied behind their backs, and their ankles bound together. The men sported impressive erections, and as they started to move into the center of the bed, Harry snapped the book closed, reached into his pocket and whispered "Erectagoner!"

Wands For Witches, by Ivanna Biggun. He thought about picking that up for Hermione, and decided he didn't want to risk her being offended. After all, if anyone could help him figure out what this new wand could do, it'd be her… and it'd be awkward enough getting her advice anyway.

He was caught by a picture of a phoenix on one cover, and pulled that book out to look closer. The title was in simple block letters: Fawkes With Cocks: The Erotic Adventures of a Famous Phoenix. No author was listed. He opened it somewhere in the middle....

Fawkes With Cocks

... and closed it hastily. Whatever else was inside, he didn't want to know, including whether those were photos or clever manipulations with the PhotoZap spell.

He finally found a single, used copy of the book he was looking for: The Wand with a Knob on the End, by Phil McKracken and Idunna Laudamin. Not wanting to spend any more time in the shop than necessary, he hastily purchased it, tried to ignore the wink the shopkeeper gave him, and left. He Apparated back to number twelve, Grimmauld Place and settled in to study (and experiment) through the weekend.

He went into his room, locked the door, pulled the shades closed, and took off his shoes to lie on the bed to read. He opened the book…

The Wand with a Knob on the End

There was some handwriting inside the front cover, but it was so faint he couldn't read it. He skipped over the preface, which seemed to be Ollivander thanking them for their research, and went on to the table of contents. Someone had written subtitles next to all the chapter headings. He found himself laughing at some of them, and blushing at others. Sometimes both.

  1. OoOW Care & Maintenance (a.k.a. Handling Your Wand)
  2. Basic Spells ( Taking matters in your own hands)
  3. Advanced Spells (Get fucked)
  4. Safety Concerns (Cinnamon oil is not lube!)
  5. Laws & Regulations (Rule 1: Don't get caught. Rule 2: Who cares? If you follow Rule 1, you'll never notice the others.)
  6. Exotic Practices & Private Lifestyles (Extreme Perversions & Penguin Lust)
  7. Erotic Magic in Ancient Lore: Roman (Spells for BDSM)
  8. Erotic Magic in Ancient Lore: Druidic (Spells for treefucking)
  9. Erotic Magic in Ancient Lore: Egyptian (Spells for necrophilia)
  10. Erotic Potions (Dip your wand in the cauldron…)
  11. Personal Erotic Power (Fucking for fun & profit)
  12. Beyond Magic: Relationships (How to get laid after your cousin steals your wand)

Harry jumped around a lot in the book. The care and maintenance section was embarrassing to read… it mentioned that the wand could be "treated with, or exposed to, all the common bodily fluids, especially sexual fluids; indeed, the wand's power and link to its owner will be enhanced by regular application of the same."

He went on to "Basic Spells." It gave a more detailed description of Erectus and Erectagoner, and a couple of variations that it said would last longer, and could be used as hexes.

Phallorum Limpioso: This spell prevents sexual arousal in the male. It can be canceled by the caster, countered by various spells included in this book (while Erectus will allow a short-term reaction, it will fade very quickly), or broken by a regimen of erectile enhancement potions.

A handwritten note filled most of the margin near this: V. effective. L. paid almost 45 Galleons for a week's worth of Pecker-Up potion.

Harry flipped to the Potions chapter… sure enough, the first one listed was Pecker-Up.

To allow erectile activity in those enfeebled by exhaustion, old age, injury, disease, or hex. A week-long regimen will cure most temporary conditions. Note: over-use has uncomfortable side effects. A single teaspoon is enough for a whole evening of fun for most men.

Standard healing potion base, with the following additions:
4 Seahlyss seedpods
1 Mountain Oyster
3 Satyr Hairs

Stir c(l)ockwise for five minutes, then simmer until it turns bright red. Remove from heat and cover 2 hours, then heat to near-boiling. Potion is done when it turns white and milky.

Underneath that was a handwritten note: The satyr hairs need to be pubic hair or it won't work. Should not be stirred with a wand with unicorn hair core as this causes inhibitions. Is stronger when brewed with an erection. Addition of semen of the potion maker turns this into a temporary focused lust potion, without any Imperio-style compulsions.

Harry stared at the words. He recognized that writing. He hadn't noticed it before, because he'd never seen it write about those topics… but he had seen this script comment on every aspect of potion-making. He flipped through the book, seeing page after page marked with that familiar script. Inside the back cover was a final note:

I believe I have mastered the spells in this book, and the magical techniques on which they are based. This has been an excellent primer, and I hope the next reader finds it as entertaining and useful as I have.

--The Half-Blood Prince

He had the bloody Half-Blood Prince's sex magic book. Snape. He had Snape's notes about sex magic.

He threw the book against the wall, lay back on his bed, and screamed.

* * *

Snape knelt before Voldemort.

"My lord, I have a report about the boy."

"Do tell." Voldemort sounded bored.

"His Occlumency skills are still atrocious, and with the removal of his mother's protection, he may be very open to your influence."

Snape did not mention the details of his dream-encounter with the boy, nor Harry's apparent belief that Snape had a phallus that would be better suited to a horse, or a brahma bull. It was rather flattering, really. Could have been inconvenient if Snape didn't know the counterspell, but as it was, Potter's confusion was well-worth a few moments of discomfort.

"That is… encouraging. I am pleased."

Snape bowed deeply. "I live to serve you." No hint of sarcasm entered his voice.

"Of course you do. Now, bring the prisoner." Snape did not reply to this in words; they'd already argued over the plan as much as Voldemort would allow. His lord was convinced that the best way to kill the Potter brat was to destroy his wand at a distance, and nothing could convince him that the risks weren't worth the possible rewards.

Snape motioned to two other Death Eaters, and they left the room briefly, and came back with an old, beaten man. It was Ollivander, who could barely stand on his own power; the two holding him were also supporting him. His robes were tattered, even more so than Snape's had been in Harry's dream. His face was covered with bruises and small marks, most of which seemed mostly healed. He showed no sign of defiance, nor of servitude, as he faced the dark wizard.

He looked up at Voldemort with a mildly bland expression. "Ah. Master Riddle."

"That's Lord Voldemort."

"Of course it is. My apologies; I am very old, and I forget these details. I assume you've brought me here about young Master Potter's wand?"

"It is time, old man," said Voldemort.

"It may not work, you know. It's a very complex and delicate spell."

"If it does not work, you die."

"Then I cannot make you another wand if yours is damaged, and you will have to shop from my competitors."

Voldemort kicked him, and he crumpled over. "Shut up! Snape, bring the cauldron!"

Snape brought a small silver cauldron—it would barely hold a gallon—into the center of the room, and a couple of hooded men brought a table with ingredients and tools. He nodded to the ones supporting Ollivander, and they brought him over near the cauldron, and sat him down on a chair. They carefully cast a binding spell that wrapped cords of blue light around his waist and legs to keep him from leaving the chair, but left his arms free.

Voldemort watched eagerly as Snape assembled his equipment. He filled a tall glass vase with water, and muttered about the ingredients as he worked. More than a decade teaching was a hard habit to break. "Dittany for manifestation; don't need to add holly for dream magic, do we?" He added a few other herbs, and some kind of crushed beetle, to the water; it turned a clear pale blue.

He inscribed runes on each of two thin, flat pieces of wood using a peacock-feather quill. The holly got runes for openness, acceptance, and change; on the yew, he drew symbols of protection, power, and control. Then he laid them both on the table with blank faces up.

"Quicksilver," said Snape. One of the assistants handed him a tiny glass bottle. He nodded, and carefully poured seven drops on the holly stick. The fluid metal would aid in transformation, in allowing the energy to move from one wood to the other. He covered it with the yew piece, so the runic sides were both visible. He tied them together with a single white thread.

He nodded to Voldemort, who stood over the cauldron, took out a thin blade, and slashed his own palm so the blood ran freely.

"The blood, since you have some of his, should bind the wand to both of you." Snape laid the two-part wand in the bottom of the cauldron, and allowed the blood to soak into it. "It's really too bad you don't have any of his hair or semen to create a better bond." He did not say that he was fairly certain that, given a bit of time, he could acquire some of both.

He pulled the new sticks out of the cauldron with a pair of tongs that looked like foot-long tweezers, and dipped them into a glass jar heating wax over a candle. He took it out, and dipped it into the pale blue water to cool.

Then he handed it to Ollivander. Voldemort spoke.

"There you have it—a symbolic representation of my wand and the Potter boy's. Now I need you to take my real wand, and use this to break Potter's real wand."

Ollivander looked up at him. "It'll be difficult, as I said. It may break both wands. Wand resonance is very tricky magic, especially since the woods aren't the same."

"Get on with it." Voldemort took out his wand, and stroked it possessively before starting to hand it to the Ollivander. Snape drew his own wand and leveled it at the old man.

"If you try anything other than what we agreed on, I will kill you," he said calmly.

Ollivander shrugged, and took the wand in his left hand, and kept the symbolic one in his right. He closed his eyes. He murmured very softly as he extended both arms out, then brought the two wands together. He held them both in his right hand, and held out his left without opening his eyes.

"Cord. Green. Silk," he said. Snape had been prepared for this, and laid a measured 13" piece of green silk cord on his hand. Ollivander hummed an odd tune as he wrapped it carefully around the wands in an odd knotted pattern. A shiver passed through everyone watching. Ollivander hummed again, very quietly; Snape, standing with one hand on his shoulder, could barely make out the tune to "A wizard's wand has a knob on the end." He tapped his fingers softly in time with the refrain. Ollivander almost smiled, but the expression was so quick Snape might have imagined it. He was sure Voldemort, standing a few feet farther away, couldn't hear the humming.

"I need more energy," he said. They'd expected this. All the Death Eaters except Snape drew their wands and pointed them at Voldemort's. Snape kept his wand pointed at Ollivander. Beams of white and blue light flowed into the bundle in Ollivander's hands, which started to glow, first dimly, then bright, bright enough to hurt.

Ollivander hummed a bit more. Snape very carefully did not show any outward sign that he recognized the song. Then Ollivander paused, as if feeling the combined weight of what he held. He breathed over it, one long breath from one end to the other, and the light glowed and flickered where his breath touched it. After that, he held it very still in front of himself for a long moment. He opened his eyes, and handed the incandescent bundle back to Voldemort. "That's the best I can do in my current condition."

"That's all?! You barely touched it! You did no incantations at all!"

"Wand magic is a delicate skill. After the carving is over, there's very little visible work. Any incantations used would affect the wand's magical abilities. This particular spell requires a great deal of energy and even more precision. This is as ready as I can make it—cast a destructive spell through it, and it should backfire directly into his wand. But you should hurry; it's very draining until complete."

He looked around the room; some of the Death Eaters were swaying where they stood.

"Why should I trust you've done it right?"

"Why not? It matters not to me which pack of wizards run the council; they all buy wands. Although I must admit, I'm generally more politely inclined to the ones who don't have me beaten and starved for weeks before a complex and dangerous spell."

Snape suspected that he wasn't being entirely truthful, but since he was certain that nobody in this room had been entirely truthful in years, he didn't say anything. He very carefully did not let himself think about what he hoped would happen when Lord Voldemort cast his next spell.

"To work best," Ollivander said, "it should be a spell that Potter has cast, but is not very proficient at. It should be a spell his wand recognizes but has not mastered."

"That's quite simple," Voldemort said, and pointed his wand at the old man in the chair. "Crucio!"

Ollivander screamed sharply, once… but then the light streaming from the wand folded back in on itself, and floated around the new wand tied to Voldemort's. The light grew brighter and flickered oddly, and a high-pitched sound filled the room. Some of the Death Eaters were now holding their wands with both hands, and two fell to their knees. The light feeding into Voldemort's wand changed from white to aqua to almost midnight blue, and grew into a hot ball of blue fire that snaked out to every wand feeding it. Ozone crackled in the air. Then the fire flared sharply—the Death Eaters collapsed—and the end of Voldemort's wand exploded.

* * *

Harry awoke with sticky sheets, although he wasn't really sure why, because that had to have been one of the least erotic dreams he'd ever had. Okay, it involved Snape and obscene songs, but that shouldn't have been enough on its own. He was disoriented, and worried, as he always was after what he thought of as "prophetic" dreams (even though he knew they weren't prophecies, since they weren't about the future), but this one was different… he'd perceived it through Snape's eyes, which he supposed was an improvement from seeing it through Voldemort's, and his scar didn't ache at all. He reached under his pillow (Moody's "Constant vigilance!" echoed in his head), and found his fears confirmed.

Harry's wand was shattered. A handle connected to splinters, that's what it was. Worse than Ron's had been in their third year at Hogwarts--this wasn't a clean break; it looked like someone had exploded a firecracker in the middle of the wand. His pillow was burnt on the bottom, and he'd need to get the splinters out of the sleeping pad. When he shook the wand, he could see little sparks from all the jagged edges of the wood; he was afraid to find out what would happen if he tried to cast a spell.

He wondered how he'd face Voldemort without a wand that was a match for the Dark Lord's. He wondered where he'd get a new wand at all--Ollivander's shop had been closed for more than a year, and now he knew why. He wasn't sure how much Ollivander was cooperating with the Voldemort—some of those injuries looked pretty severe—but he was pretty sure that he'd have a new wand soon.

He realized he'd need to rescue Ollivander to get himself a new wand, and to prevent Voldemort from getting one. And he couldn't tell anyone about it… they'd forbid the attempt, and spend weeks trying to decide if Voldemort's wand had really been destroyed, and by that time, he might have a new one.

Harry had to get to him now, when he was vulnerable. But the only wand he had now was... the OoOW. And the book.

He pulled it out of his pack. After that first Lumos, he hadn't tried casting any "normal" spells with it, although he'd tried several of the ones in the book. He still hated Snape (that dream was a… freak accident, or something. Caused by stress. Meant nothing.), but his notes were excellent pointers. And he was planning on using something very different the next time he ran across Snape, whether it was in a dream or face-to-face.

He thought about the spells he'd used in his last battle with Death Eaters.

"Protego!" he said... and instantly felt his nether regions covered in a thick latex barrier. He hastily banished that one.

Right. No Protego. What about his more important protection spell? He thought of a happy moment... the time Fred had kissed him until he was dizzy... and said, "Expecto Patronum!"

A shining white stag appeared, and pranced around his room. It looked normal. No, better than that—it looked bigger than usual, and more solid; he'd forgotten that this wand was more powerful than normal wands, even if it was focused on a particular type of magic. He ended the spell, and breathed a sigh of relief. He wouldn't be totally without protection; he just had to be careful about which spells he used.

An hour of experimenting taught him that most spells worked almost normally, although they seemed a bit odd. Wingardium Leviosa still levitated objects, but it also made them move... strangely. It was almost embarrassing to see a book try to hump the table, then the lamp post. And some spells, he couldn't try until he was facing another person.

He was suddenly very happy for Tonks' gift… he had dozens of new hexes to try.

He quickly packed a change of clothes, both books, his OoOW and the shattered remains of his first wand, and left number twelve, Grimmauld Place with a note on the kitchen table that anyone from the Order would find if they stopped by that night:

Had another dream. V. has Ollivander; I've gone to rescue him. V.'s wand blew up in a spell accident and some D.E.'s are injured, but Ollivander will make him a new one soon unless rescued. I'll be okay, but I have to go now. –Harry.

Harry didn't think he should mention that his wand had been destroyed in the same accident. Besides, he had another wand, and Voldemort didn't. At least, he hoped Voldemort didn't. He wasn't sure how to find Voldemort, but he knew Voldemort could find him, if he just stopped hiding.

He shouldered his pack, walked outside, and Apparated to Diagon Alley.

* * *

Harry walked the empty streets, OoO wand in hand. It was early evening on a Thursday… while a few shops were open on weekends when a few people shopped, right now, everything was closed. Harry wandered around a bit, feeling a bit lost. And silly, whenever he happened to glance down at the wand he was carrying.

"Here, little Death Eater," he whispered at first, and then called out more loudly. "Come out, come out, wherever you are." He giggled. "Olly olly oxen free…."

After an hour of walking around, he realized it wasn't working. He couldn't just wander around until something happened—he needed to summon them. Since he didn't have a signaling device like the Morsmordre, he'd have to make something up. Something that they'd notice (he was sure they monitored Diagon Alley, but equally sure they didn't watch for every single person—or they'd've already come out to get him).

He tried shooting sparks into the air, but this wand didn't spark… it shot spurts of liquid instead. They disappeared before they landed on anything, just like the sparks couldn't ignite anything. He wasn't sure if that was enough of an attention-grabber, and he really wasn't sure he was willing to send a geyser up in the middle of the street.

While he was thinking, it had started to get dark. The street seemed a lot colder than he remembered. And then he remembered why people stopped shopping before sundown… a dark, hooded shape swooped from around a corner. Dementor. Only one, for which he was grateful, but even one dementor was one more than he wanted to deal with right now.

Happy thoughts, happy thoughts… Harry didn't have any happy thoughts at the moment, just vengeful ones. He wondered if pleasure was a reasonable substitute for happiness. I hope this works. He called up the memory of yesterday morning, stroking himself to hardness slowly, using the wand's lubrication spell which was much slicker than anything he'd ever found in the kitchen, feeling his hand slide over his glans—and then he pointed the wand at the Dementor, and yelled "Expecto Patronum!"

The silver stag leapt out of the end of his wand, and ran to the ghastly figure. The dementor dodged away from it, but the stag was relentless. It lowered its horns, forcing the creature to back up, and kept circling around it. The dementor tried to turn and escape, but as soon as its hood was facing the other way, the stag jumped on it.

Jumped it, rather. The stag put its silvery hooves on the dementor's ghostly shoulders, and a huge, silvery penis emerged from a sheath between its hind legs. The dementor writhed in panic, and seemed to be trying to escape, but it was apparently pinned by the stag's legs. Then the stag started humping. Harry could see the huge organ—bigger than his forearm—thrusting in and out of the shadowy robes of a man-shaped creature not much larger than himself, while the dementor twisted in apparent agony, and made helpless motions with its arms.

Harry almost felt sorry for it. After the first few thrusts, the dementor sagged helplessly, and was dragged back and forth with every motion. Its bony hands clenched and unclenched uselessly. Harry couldn't look away; he'd never seen a Patronus act so… determined. It shifted its forelegs a bit, and sped up the thrusts, and then reared its head back in a silent final spasm… Harry could see the giant penis pulsing, and silvery something spilled out around where it had been thrusting into the dementor.

The Patronus was still for a moment, then it gave one final, vicious thrust—the dementor bent almost in half—and the stag ripped itself away. Shreds of black fell off its organ as it shrunk and went back into its sheath, and it galloped in a quick, triumphant circle before it vanished.

The dementor fell flat onto the ground, a silver puddle spreading over its backside. Its hands gripped the stones, and it tried to pull itself upright. The dementor struggled to its knees, and started crawling down the street.

Harry couldn't fear it now. He took a step toward it. It froze. Harry took another step. It curled its shadowy body tighter, and swayed. It was shaking. Harry could almost believe it was whimpering. He pointed his wand at it. It flinched.

Wow. I've scared a dementor. I broke a dementor. Didn't know anyone could do that.

"Go away!" Harry yelled. "BEGONE!" It crawled faster. Harry watched it go.

He realized that if Voldemort directly controlled the dementors, that was a pretty direct message to send. And then he realized that, if it had to crawl all the way back to… wherever dementors go, when they're not dementing… it would take quite a while for him to be noticed.

He still needed a signal.

He knew a Patronus could be used as a messenger, but he wasn't sure how. He decided he could just send it off, and hope it could figure out how to find Voldemort and bring him here. He thought of his Patronus pinning Voldemort like it had the dementor, and smiled, even though he knew a Patronus couldn't touch people.

He summoned the stag again, and told it, "Go find Ollivander. Bring him here." It pranced away a bit, and then came back, hanging its head in shame. Harry realized it wouldn't recognize Ollivander. Harry thought a bit. "Find Voldemort?" It shook its head. "Snape, then." Its head perked up. Harry sighed. "Okay, find Snape. Bring him here. If you get the chance, do to him what you did to the dementor." The stag reared up as if it agreed with the idea, and then galloped off.

Nothing to do but wait, then.

After ten minutes, Harry was bored. He knew he needed to stay alert, but he couldn't just stand here watching the horizon. He started window-shopping, figuring that would keep him more conscious of his surroundings than reading. He looked at the new brooms, wandered past the apothecary with its cauldron bubbling in the window. He could almost see Snape, bending over the cauldron to sprinkle some vile herb, then standing to get out of the way of the fumes.

He stood next to the window, looking at his own reflection and the cauldron inside. He stood in a pose he remembered Snape taking—standing imperiously, arms crossed, wand twitching near his forearm. He tried another: took a half-step back into a semi-crouch, put one arm up defensively and thrust his wand forward in a dueling pose. Then he straightened, stood upright and put both hands behind his back as he'd often seen Snape do in class, just before he barked, "Potter!"


Harry froze.

"Is that a wand in your pocket, or… " the voice trailed off sardonically.

Harry whirled around to face Snape. His eyes widened in shock, and he quickly pulled his wand out from behind his back.

Snape looked at the wand. His mouth twitched, but he didn't—quite—smile. Harry glanced down, realized which wand he was holding, and started to blush, but he didn't stop pointing it at Snape, whose wand was out and ready.

"I'LL KILL YOU!" Harry shouted.

"With that? I think not. I think whatever plans you have for me with… that," his eyes flicked briefly to the wand, "have very little to do with killing. Unless you were planning on giving me the 'little death,' in which case, I must politely decline. I prefer my partners to have a bit more… substance." His eyes slid down to Harry's waist, and then back to his face.

Harry turned red. He shook his wand at Snape, and started to yell "AVA—" when Snape stepped forward, grabbed his wand hand, and pushed him back into the window he'd been looking at.

"You really haven't thought this through, Potter. Do you have any idea what would happen if you cast that spell with this wand?"

Harry struggled to get loose, but Snape had a surprisingly strong grip. Harry flinched as Snape leaned closer, but he couldn't break away.

"Let's take a little trip, now shall we?" Snape said in his ear, in a voice just above a whisper. And with that, Snape grabbed Harry's other arm as well, and Apparated the two of them away.

When the twisting blackness was done, Harry found himself in an unfamiliar clearing with Snape, surrounded by Death Eaters, facing Voldemort and Ollivander, who was in shackles at his side. The old man had a small work table with a collection of rough-cut wands on it, and some tools and other materials.

At least six wands were pointed at Harry. Snape stepped away from him and walked over to kneel in front of Voldemort. Harry pointed his wand at Voldemort.

"My Lord, I have brought you a gift."

"So you have, I see. Your faithful service will be rewarded."

"I thank you." With that, Snape bowed his head, then stood and joined the circle of Death Eaters.

Voldemort looked over at Harry, and saw the wand in his hand. His face twisted into a smile.

"I see you've acquired an… alternate wand, Potter. Is that an expression of your true feelings for me?"

Before Harry could answer, Voldemort turned to the other Death Eaters, and said, "Take your sport with him, but finish him before midnight. I'm told that the assembly of a new wand is best done between midnight and dawn, and I don't intend to be wandless for another day."

And with that, the Death Eaters closed the circle around Harry, with Snape standing directly between him and Voldemort. They were masked, but Harry could recognize a few by posture. They stepped in a bit, until they were almost shoulder to shoulder. Harry wondered which one was Draco… he pointed his wand at the shortest of them and yelled, "Nudicorpus!"

Narcissa Malfoy, not Draco, stood naked before him. She crossed her arms over herself, and two of the other robed figures immediately moved towards her.

Someone shot a bolt of red light at Harry, and he jumped to avoid being hit. Deciding that he didn't like not knowing whom he was facing, he waved his wand in a tight circle and shouted, "Divestio Multicorpus!" The wand pulsed, and shot a fountain of what looked like liquid over the circle. Wherever it touched clothing, the cloth melted.

He was now facing a circle of naked, angry Death Eaters. Including Snape, whom he noticed was not, after all, endowed with an organ that would shame a moose.

The two who were moving towards Narcissa turned out to be Draco and Macnair. Draco had his arms partially out from his sides, as if he were planning on covering her with his robe. Macnair had apparently had one hand in his robes before they disappeared… his hand was clutching his dick, and the look on his face implied that he'd been planning on sharing his robes in a way she might not have been expecting.

Narcissa shrieked, and pointed her wand at him. "Get away from me, you pervert! Draco, help!" A bolt of sparks flew out of her wand and struck Macnair in the chest. He staggered.

Draco turned to face Macnair, and yelled, "Stay away from my mother!" He started to kick at Macnair, but the man dodged easily.

"What, you think you can keep her for yourself? Damn selfish, if you ask me. We've gotta pool our resources here."

Draco sputtered. "Are you saying I… that I would… that my family…"

"I'm sayin' that's a damn fine woman, and you've been monopolizin' her time." He leered at Narcissa, who shivered, and tried to shift her hands to cover herself better, which only revealed more skin. "B'sides, it's only fair," Macnair continued, "it's not like I'd be using her up. There'll still be plenty for you."

Harry had never seen Draco so angry. He fell upon the older man, kicking and punching and biting. Macnair fought back, and the two of them wrestled while Narcissa watched, trying to find a way to zap Macnair without hitting her son.

Harry heard "Expelli—" and he turned around in time to see Crabbe, possibly the only man on that side of the circle not distracted by a naked Narcissa, cast the spell at him.

Harry crouched down quickly to avoid the spell, and without thinking, cast the same back at Crabbe. "Expelliarmus!"

The spell didn't yank Crabbe's wand out of his hand. Instead, it shot a beam of blue light at his crotch… Crabbe's flaccid penis went instantly erect, and his hips pumped rapidly a few times, and with a shout, he shot a stream of white into the circle. Then he crumpled in exhaustion.

A flicker of movement at Harry's left caught his attention.

"That won't work on me, little boy." Bellatrix LeStrange had an amused expression on her face, but that didn't prevent the look of deadly hatred from coming through. "Cru—" she started to say.

"GAZONGANORMOUS!" Harry yelled. He'd been wanting a chance to test that one, and while it might not be the perfect spell, it'd probably work at least as a distraction.

Bellatrix's breasts grew like balloons, swelling until they were bigger than her head, almost the size of watermelons. Her arms cartwheeled wildly as she tried to balance, and then she fell over on her back. She wiggled helplessly and shouted a stream of insults at Harry. She turned to one side, trying to get the leverage to stand, and Harry was struck by inspiration.

He pointed his wand at the man closest to her—Dolohov, he thought—and yelled, "Viagaroso!" The man grew instantly hard, and staggered toward Bellatrix. She shrieked.

"Don't you dare, Antonin! Get away from me!" He ignored her words, and knelt down to grab her legs and yank them open.

"Been waitin' a long time for a chance at this," he grinned as he positioned himself between her legs. "Yer such a slut, Bella… givin' out to the Dark Lord an' Malfoy an' Rudolphous but never to them what needs it most. Now it's payback time for all those names you called me in Azkaban."

Bellatrix struggled, but her huge breasts made it impossible for her to move very well. Dolohov leered at her. "Relax, an' you might even enjoy it." And with that, he grabbed both of her hands with one of his, twisted them so he was pinning her arms over her head, and thrust into her.

"Get off of me! RUDOLPHOUS! Help me!" The man next to Crabbe, who'd been standing in a daze, suddenly seemed fully aware of what was happening to his wife. He switched from half-heartedly pointing his wand in Harry's direction to pointing it at Dolohov.

Harry decided that if a spell worked once, he should try it again. He pointed at LeStrange and said, "Viagaroso!"

Rudolphous groaned, and clutched his hardening cock. He tried to resist the spell, but all that did was make him look like an animated dressmaker's dummy as he moved in jerky steps to where Dolohov was gleefully pounding into Bellatrix, who looked like she wasn't hating it as much as her voice implied. Rudolphous knelt behind Dolohov, and grabbed the cheeks of his arse.

"NO!" Dolohov yelled, but didn't stop or even slow down. "Rudolphous, don't you dare!"

"Can't… stop… myself," he said, panting. He was holding his erect cock in one hand, aiming it at Dolohov's hole. He touched the entrance, and Dolohov let out a high-pitched gasp.

"Lubricus," Harry heard from behind him. He whirled about to see Snape pointing his wand at the three people on the ground. Snape looked at him. "Dry-fucking, Potter? I think not. Even Death Eaters deserve better than that."

Harry glanced around quickly. Crabbe was kneeling, trying to catch his breath; Draco and Macnair were wrestling. At least, he thought they were wrestling. They seemed to be using a lot more hip movement than he remembered seeing on television wrestling shows. Narcissa was running away. Bellatix's huge tits kept getting in Dolohov's way—he kept losing his grip on her hands—but then Rudolphous would thrust again and all three of them would flatten momentarily, with Dolohov's face falling between Bellatrix's breasts. The three of them were alternately thrusting and cursing at each other.

Naked Snape was all that stood between him and Voldemort—and Ollivander.

Snape smirked, and spoke to Voldemort without taking his eyes off Harry.

"My Lord, I told you it was a bad idea to allow women in the inner circle. They are too… distracting… for some of the men." A long moan from Bellatrix rang out.

Voldemort replied, "Perhaps you are correct. I will consider it. Now, please finish this nuisance so I can concentrate on the creation of my new wand."

Snape didn't seem nearly as discomfited about nudity as the other Death Eaters had been. Harry frowned. He hadn't helped the other Death Eaters, and Harry knew he was well-acquainted with all the spells he'd used, but he didn't look like he was helping Harry either.

He wasn't attacking, though, even though Voldemort had told him to. He seemed to be just waiting for Harry. He was standing with his wand ready, but not looking particularly worried about what Harry might do. Snape raised one eyebrow as if taunting him.

Snape advanced on Harry, wand held ready before him. Harry started backing up and turning a bit to his right, hoping to get closer to Ollivander. Snape said, in a low, silky voice, "Are you so hungry for the sight of me that you had to strip all these people for the chance to see me naked? Am I impressive enough in reality," he gestured downward, and Harry found himself staring at Snape's crotch, "or do you prefer the version that can pin you to a wall that my arms can't reach?"

"But... but that was just a dream!" Harry stammered, and then blushed. "It wasn't real!"

"Ah, but it was your dream, Potter. It was… very enlightening. At least now I know what head you were thinking with, all those years you were botching potions."

Harry scowled and shook his head. He yelled at Snape, "Shut up! You're a... you're a pervert! I could never... not with you... I HATE YOU!"

He didn't need to figure out what game Snape was playing; he just needed to grab Ollivander and get out of here, before the rest of the Death Eaters recovered. He decided to use the spell that Crabbe still hadn't recovered from.


But Snape was ready for him, and waved his wand over his penis just as the beam of blue light reached him, and it was deflected off to the left—where it hit the table Ollivander was working at. The wands flew into the air, then scattered onto the ground. Ollivander sighed, and knelt to pick them up.

Snape shook his head and made a tsking noise in the back of his throat. "Potter, really now... that's no way to convince a man you're not interested. In fact, for most men, stripping them naked and attempting to give them orgasms is a sign of rather intense attraction."

"Snape!" Voldemort yelled. "Enough games! FINISH HIM!"

"Your wish is my command, my Lord," Snape said smoothly. He took a step towards Harry—but now Harry was between Snape and the table. Harry ran over to Ollivander, dodging Voldemort's claw-like hand and ducking behind the table, and grabbed Ollivander's arm as he stood up.

Silver eyes turned to face him. "I'm afraid you can't rescue me, Master Potter. The shackles are charmed to prevent Disapparition." Harry looked down; thick metal bands encircled Ollivander's ankles, and the chain between them shimmered with magical power.

He had only seconds. Snape was striding up to him quickly, and Voldemort was reaching over the table. Harry pointed his wand at Ollivander and said, "Nudicorpus!"

Ollivander's clothes—including the shackles—disappeared. Ollivander looked pleasantly surprised. "Very innovative," he said. "Quite a creative use of the spell. Effective, too." Harry wanted to say shut up; don't distract me; we have to get out of here now... but then Snape reached him.

Harry Disapparated, taking both naked men with him.

* * *

They stood in the street in front of Grimmauld Place.

Ollivander sagged against Harry. Snape let go of Harry and went around to take Ollivander's other arm.

"Quick—let's get him inside and into a bed. Is the southwest guest room still open?"

"Yes," Harry answered without thinking, and then stopped. "Hey! I'm not letting you in my house!"

"Oh, don't be any more of an idiot than necessary, Potter. He needs a mediwitch, and we both need clothes. It's cold out here."


Snape sighed.

"We can have a nice long argument out here in the street, or we can go inside."

Harry glowered at him. And raised his wand.

"Don't point that thing at me," Snape said waspishly. "Are you aware that I have free access to the house? That I have Flooed in and out of it several times in the last year? Had you figured out that I left the wand for you?"


"Yes, me. Or rather, Ollivander, but he couldn't deliver it, because he was being tortured by a Dark Lord who wanted to find out how to destroy your wand through the link to his. Which, if you recall, is the reason you brought him here, but it won't have done much good if he dies of exposure because you didn't bring him in out of the cold!"

Snape started to pull Ollivander toward the house, and this time, Harry didn't resist. He didn't let go, either, so the two of them silently maneuvered Ollivander into the southwest guest room, which had a large fireplace on the north wall.

Ollivander, barely conscious, was leaning heavily on both of them. When they got to the bed, Snape let him go, and pulled back the blankets; Harry helped him lie down. As soon as he was covered, he was asleep.

Harry whirled around to face Snape, who was already standing with his wand ready.

They looked at each other for a long moment, and then Snape rolled his eyes, twitched his wand, and said, "Vesticorpus!" A black robe shimmered into place around him, but it looked more like thick shadow than cloth, like it wasn't completely present. When he moved, it tended to fade out over… interesting areas. Harry thought it looked more revealing than nakedness. He tried not to look at the robes that flickered and billowed in the dim light.

Snape motioned to the door, and said, "After you."

"I'm not turning my back on you!" Harry said in an angry whisper.

"Of the two of us, I'm the one who hasn't cast any hexes at the other today. I'll follow you."

Harry scowled, but saw the logic in that. He backed up slowly towards the door, keeping his wand pointed at Snape the whole time. He backed out, and Snape, true to his word, followed him into the hall, and gently closed the door.

As soon as the latch clicked, Snape grabbed Harry and spun him around, pressing him to the wall. He pinned the wrist holding the wand firmly against his side, and thrust his fingers into Harry's hair with his other hand, and pulled his head back and to the side. Snape pushed the length of his body against Harry's, and whispered harshly into his ear, "Is this what you wanted? No dream-illusions, no spectators, just the two of us?"

Harry gasped and tried to catch his breath. "Never!" he said, and tried to twist out of Snape's grasp.

"Oh, I think you're lying." Snape used his knee to push Harry's legs apart, and pressed his thigh between them. He rocked slowly back and forth. Against his will, Harry felt himself reacting to the pressure and movement. Snape's voice softened in his ear. "Never's such a long time. I think you'll want me much, much sooner than that." Harry whimpered.

Snape released his hair, and Harry turned to look at him. Snape's dark eyes glittered with lust. Harry shuddered. Snape trailed the hand from Harry's neck down his arm to his hip, and then forced it between their bodies. When Snape's fingers reached the edge of Harry's hardening cock, he moaned. Snape snickered softly. "See? Not 'never,' after all."

"Don't… don't want this," Harry said thickly.

"Yes, you do. You just don't want to admit that you want it." Snape bit his ear, gently. The sensation washed over Harry, and he shivered. Snape's fingers were moving, tracing and tugging at him, pulling him to full hardness even through his robes, and Harry started to push against his hand.

"Then not in the hall. Bed," Harry managed.

"How shocking! Capable of sensible thought after all!" Snape said, but didn't stop. "But we have plenty of time to find a bed. For now…" he covered Harry's full length with his hand, "just enjoy it." Harry gasped as Snape's fingers slid down to cup his bollocks, and his wrist pressed against Harry's cock. Snape stopped there, motionless, for a long moment, until Harry started to writhe to try to make the hand move again. Snape whispered at him, "Now would be an excellent time for a Nudicorpus."

Harry nodded incoherently, and then realized that Snape meant he should cast it. He hoped the wand worked when the caster was out of his mind with lust… but he supposed that if any wand could, this one would.

"Nu… Nudicorpus," he managed to gasp. His clothes and Snape's both vanished, and suddenly strong fingers were pressing against his cock, pulling his foreskin down, sliding up and down on his length. Harry made a noise that was almost a wail. He could feel Snape's hardness against his thigh, and he tried to press into it, but then the hand was moving faster, and all Harry could do was buck into it and make small mewling noises.

Then the hand suddenly let go, and Snape pulled away. Harry shivered in the sudden cold, and said, "Whaa?"

"Bed," Snape said. "Now." Harry stumbled in the direction of his room, certain this was a bad idea but not able to remember why, not really able to think anything except that he wanted to be doing what he was two minutes ago. He yanked open his door and almost fell onto his bed, with Snape right beside him. He lay on his side, his cock throbbing, wand dangling loosely at his side, unsure of how to go from here.

Then Snape reached over and took Harry's cock in hand, and Harry's eyes fluttered shut. Two quick tugs, then Snape rolled over on top of him, and Harry spread his legs so that their hard cocks pressed together, with Snape's hand shifting to half-encircle them both. Harry was bucking madly, trying to get Snape to hit that perfect pressure, to pull just right… Snape wasn't doing it.

Instead, he moved his hand lower, cupping Harry's bollocks again, and knelt up a bit. He nudged at Harry's legs, and Harry obligingly opened them as wide as he could, pulling his knees up so Snape could reach farther back. The fingers tickled the edge of his hole, and he twisted in pleasure.

Then Snape sat fully upright and pointed his wand at Harry, and for a split second, terror washed over him. Then Snape said, "Lubricus," and Harry felt himself filled with slickness. He relaxed, and Snape's long fingers stroked his entrance. When the tip of one finger breached him, Harry moaned. The finger slid in and out, smoothly, as Snape's breath grew ragged and Harry tried to open himself wider… and then Snape hit that spot, just there, and Harry let out an inarticulate scream. Snape held steady pressure on it, not moving, while Harry quivered, until Harry sobbed, "More…puh… please…"

Snape pulled the finger out quickly but gently, and Harry gasped at the loss. Then Snape was kneeling over him, with the head of his cock where his finger had been a moment ago, and Harry bore down exactly as Snape pressed in.

They both stopped moving, overcome by sensation. Then a shudder went through Harry, and that was all it took—Snape's breath caught, and Harry thought he heard him say "oh god," but he wasn't sure because then Snape was pounding into him, and Harry threw his head back and groaned brokenly, and when Snape reached between them to grasp Harry's neglected cock, he bucked up hard, and Snape grunted. Then Snape was twisting and pulling, just like that, hard around the bottom, with fingertips just trailing along the edges of his bollocks, and Harry couldn't hold it any longer, and pulsed into Snape's hand. Thick white spurts spattered onto Snape's chest, and Snape pumped two, three more times, very fast, and then clenched him, hard, and went tense all over.

When it was done—when the tension had turned to aftershocks, and then limpness, and Snape collapsed onto him—Harry started to realize what he'd done.

Snape noticed the moment he grew tense, and said, "No regrets, Potter."

Harry laughed bitterly. "Easy for you to say." He twisted himself out from under Snape, and reached for the wand that had slipped out of his hand. He grimaced when he saw it… a stark reminder of all that he'd done today.

"Oh, just cast the Cleaning charm, and I'll go away, and you can try to forget this ever happened. If being voluntarily fucked by an enemy combatant is the worst thing you ever have to regret, you can count yourself extremely lucky."

Harry winced at the bitter tone in Snape's voice. He muttered, "What if I don't want to forget?"

"What was that?" Snape grabbed his chin and looked him in the eye. Harry pulled his face away before answering.

"What if I don't want to forget?" he asked defiantly.

"Then don't. I certainly won't. I may have to steal a Pensieve to save that scene with Bellatrix. It's almost enough to convince me to open a correspondence with Nymphadora to show her how her aunt has been faring."

Harry laughed… and then sobered. "I… I made them…"

Snape snorted. "You made them do nothing but what they've wanted for years. Bellatrix liked playing cocktease with Antonin far too much to ever have allowed it on her own, but they've been panting after each other since before they went to Azkaban. And Rudolphous and Antonin were 'special friends' back at Hogwarts—they just both tried to pretend they'd lost interest when Rudolphous got married."

Harry blinked. He'd never thought of Death Eaters having personal lives. He'd certainly never considered that those personal lives might the same kind of tacky interpersonal drama that Ginny was always reading to him from the pages of Witch Weekly.

Snape sighed. "Cleaning charm. Now. Sticky is tolerable; dried sticky is not."

Harry blushed, and ducked his head. He waved the wand at the two of them, and said, "Scourgify."

"And next week, since you have obtained competence in the basics of both sodomy and post-coital hygiene, we can move on to the fine art of fellatio."

Harry blurted out, "You mean, you expect us to do this again?"

"No," said Snape, "in case you forgot what I said not thirty seconds ago, I said that next week we'd do something different."

"What makes you think I'll let you back in?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"The fact that you haven't been able to keep me out so far? Or perhaps the fact that you liked what I did to you a few minutes ago, and would like to do it again?"

"Oh. I thought you'd threaten to… tell someone."

"Oh yes, I'll be sending off a letter to the Daily Prophet in the morning: 'Dear Sirs, Please allow me to inform you of the intimate details of the private life of one Harry Potter, the Boy Who Fucks Death Eaters. You may trust my accounting is accurate, because I am one of the aforementioned Death Eaters.' Potter, you utter moron, who would I tell?"

"Uhm… your friends?"

"I have no friends."

"Your, umm, acquaintances?"

"Why would I tell them? Moreover, why would they believe me?"


"Yes. 'Oh.' I have done something heinous and perverse, and dragged the savior of the wizarding world into utter debauchery, and there is absolutely nobody I could inform of this fact."

Snape stood up.

"Now, if you would be so kind as to replace my clothing, I can be on my way."

"What will you do now? Won't Vold…" Harry stopped when Snape's face clouded. "Won't the Dark Lord be angry that you let Ollivander get away?" Harry thought for a moment. "You're not taking him, you know," he said firmly."

"Of course I'm not taking him. I wouldn't have gone to all that effort to get him here if I were planning on taking him back."

"You … arranged…"

"Potter, it is dark, it is COLD, and I am tired. Please, dress me, so I can be on my merry way. We can discuss wartime politics later. I did, in case you have forgotten, announce an intention to visit you again."

"But… Volde… I mean, the Dark Lord…"

Snape sighed.

"You Apparated directly to St. Mungo's, and we were immediately surrounded by Aurors. I barely escaped with my life. Of course, given the wand you were carrying, the one with which you still have not cast Vesticorpus, the entire incident was quickly hushed and there'll be no mention of it in the papers."


Snape stood expectantly, arms crossed, tapping one foot. "Vesticorpus, Potter. The reversal of the nudity spell you are so fond of. Normal wands can only create shadow-clothes with it. I do not intend to Apparate out of here wearing a sheet."

Harry blushed, and pointed his wand at Snape. "Vesticorpus!" Snape was immediately clothed in his normal dark robes.

"What happens if a normal wand casts Nudicorpus?" Harry asked.

"It removes most clothes, but it leaves on the socks and glasses. And wristwatch, if they've got one."


"Such a diverse vocabulary you have. What fascinating conversations you must have with your friends."

Harry glared at him. Snape smirked.

"I'd suggest not using that spell to re-clothe Ollivander until you've got a specialist in magical bondage available to remove the shackles. Perhaps Moody. But don't tell him I suggested him; I'm sure he'd rather not know I remember his tastes."

"What… what do I tell my friends about what happened?"

"Whatever you like. They won't believe you. They never do."

"They're my friends! They DO believe me!"

"Of course they do," Snape said smoothly. "Just tell them you spent the evening at a Death Eater orgy and brought one home to play with. I'm sure that'll go over well."

Harry scowled.

"You can leave now."

"Thank you so much for your permission, Master Potter." Snape checked his robe, used his wand to cast a quick straightening spell, and turned toward the door for a long moment.

Then he spun around to face Harry, and gripped Harry's chin and pulled him upwards until he was kneeling on the bed, almost eye-to-eye with Snape. Snape looked into his eyes with a deep, searching gaze. Then he leaned down, turned his head a bit to the side, and kissed Harry on the mouth, pushing against his lips until Harry opened them, and thrusting his tongue in as if making a claim. Harry kissed back, as well as he could, not trying to stop the tiny noises in the back of his throat.

They were both panting, just slightly, when Snape pulled away.

"I will be back," he said, and strode out of the room.

A moment later, Harry heard the front door close.

* * Epilogue * *

Harry woke to the pleasant, familiar feeling of a hand around his cock and the equally pleasant but less familiar feeling of a cock pressing against his backside. He smiled as the hand slid over the tip of his shaft, gently pulling the foreskin back to run a thumb across the head.

"You're grinning again," a sardonic voice whispered in his ear.

"So what if I am? Mmmm, don't stop," he replied.

"Don't give me orders," the whisper said.

The hand continued to move, pulling lightly, until Harry was thrusting madly into it, trying to get more pressure.

"Please," Harry begged. "More…"

"Your mouth is obviously not busy enough," the voice said. And then the hand grasped him firmly, twisting while the body pressing into him shifted around entirely. The cock that had been pressing against his buttocks was now poking at the side of his neck. Harry turned toward it, and took the tip into his mouth.

"Aaaah…" said the voice, which was much farther away now, not tickling his ear. Harry pulled back a bit.

"I thought you were going to be a silent partner in our affairs?"

"Less talk, more suck," Snape growled, and pushed the head of his cock into Harry's lips. And then the hand started pumping, and a pair of lips joined it, and Harry opened his mouth to say "Oooh" but didn't get more than "o" when his mouth was filled.

Harry tried to keep his teeth out of the way and use his tongue and lips, but the hand was pulling, just right, just like that, a tongue was tracing around the head of his glans, and he could feel it start, the tightening in his bollocks, and he tried to warn Snape, but every time he shifted his mouth, the cock thrust into it again, so he concentrated on keeping his mouth open as Snape engulfed him almost to the root. The hand encircled his cock and squeezed firmly, the fingers spread out over his bollocks, pressing gently between them, and then the spasms ripped through him and everything went black.

When he awoke, there was a note pinned to the pillow next to his.

Point of etiquette:
It is the responsibility of the receiver of wake-up sex to clean up afterward. Next time, stay awake long enough to cast Scourgify. See you next week.





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