Chapter 1

It Could Only Happen to Harry

WARNING: This story is for mature audiences only. It contains representations of sexual acts and situations.

NOTE: This is a smutty comedy. There's a smattering of plot here, but mostly it's just an excuse to get Harry laid in an entertaining fashion. All of the action takes place the summer after Harry's seventh year. There will be a bit of femslash, but no male slash.

The last two books never happened. Dumbledore is alive and Harry isn't a horcrux. Not that it really matters.

DISCLAIMER: None of this belongs to me. Harry Potter and his girls belong to J.K. Rowling.

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Chapter 1:

Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, now known as The-Boy-Who-Won, walked hesitantly toward the open doors of the Hospital Wing. He had defeated Voldemort for good only three weeks ago, but he would almost rather face him again than deal with his current problem.

It was his victory over Voldemort that lay at the root of his discomfort. When Harry had struck down the Dark Lord on the Hogwarts lawn, a rush of raw power had flowed from Voldemort to him. He hadn't understood it, but he knew it made him feel incredibly powerful and alive.

At first he had welcomed the new sensation. He felt practically invincible, and he no longer had the weight of the prophecy hanging from his neck. The entire wizarding world celebrated his victory, and Harry celebrated along with them.

It took only a few days for him to realize that his new power came with a price.

It began with a crushing weight in his chest that made it hard for him to breathe. He felt relief only when he expended great amounts of magical energy in the Room of Requirement. Yet he never approached magical exhaustion no matter what he tried.

It continued, however, with a much more embarrassing condition: Harry now had a nearly constant erection.

As a red-blooded 17-year-old male, he was no stranger to being easily aroused. But this was different. He was now almost painfully erect at all times, and felt the need to 'relieve' himself up to 10 times per day. The relief lasted only for a half-hour or so, and then his erection would return, crying out for his attention. Even someone as sexually inexperienced as Harry knew this wasn't normal.

So now he was approaching the one person he knew wouldn't laugh at his predicament. Madam Pomfrey. He had considered approaching Hermione, but this problem was a little too personal in nature.

Likewise, he couldn't see himself approaching Dumbledore about this situation. The aged Headmaster had trained him personally for the last two years, and was an expert on all things magical, but there was no way he was going to talk to the old man about his penis.

Knocking loudly on the open doorway to the hospital wing, Harry girded himself for the humiliating conversation to come.

"Er, Madam Pomfrey?"

"Come in, Mr. Potter," said the matronly nurse after she bustled out of her office. "What can I do for you? Don't tell me you've managed to injure yourself again already!"

"Not exactly," Harry muttered, his face heating up. "You see, I…well, it's kind of embarrassing."

"Well, I've seen and heard it all, young man. I assure you that this will stay between us. What is the matter?"

He spent the next five minutes explaining to Madam Pomfrey the nature of his new condition. By the time he finished, she was staring openly at his crotch.

"I see. You say that you feel relief from the pressure after you expend a lot of your magic? And you feel a similar relief after you masturbate?"

He nodded, his face beet red.

"Alright, Mr. Potter, I need to evaluate your condition. Please remove all of your clothing."

Harry nearly choked at her command, but she held up her hand imperiously. "None of that, now. They all look alike to me. I need you to disrobe."

He reluctantly removed every last stitch of clothing, even his shirt. Pomfrey began by moving her wand in small circles over his chest, muttering as she went.

He nearly yelped when her wand dropped near his erect penis. She leaned in to examine it, and he wondered if it was possible to die from embarrassment. She moved her wand slowly around his entire length, stopping for a moment to poke at each testicle. He relaxed slightly when she finally stepped back.

"Hmmm…your heart rate and blood pressure are elevated, but your genitals appear perfectly normal. I'm not sure what's happening. You may put your clothes back on, Mr. Potter. Please have a seat; I need to fetch something."

Harry was never more relieved to follow her instructions.

When she returned from her office, she carried with her a red jewel the size of a tennis ball. He looked at it curiously.

"This is a special diagnostic tool. It's used to measure magical potential in both objects and people. It will basically tell me how strong your magical core is. Please hold it for me."

He did so, and the stone glowed an even deeper red. Pomfrey waved her wand over his hand, and her mouth fell open in shock.

"Merciful Merlin," she gasped.

"What is it?" Harry asked, his sense of impending doom kicking into high gear.

"Your magical core…it…it registers over 9000!"

"Over 9000!?" he asked incredulously, then reflected for a moment. "Er, is that a lot?"

"I should say so, Mr. Potter," she replied, shaking her head. "The average witch or wizard would register about 1000, and the Headmaster would probably exceed 3000. 9000 is simply unheard of. And dangerous," she added as an afterthought.

He swallowed heavily, wondering what new horror he would have to deal with now that Voldemort was gone. He couldn't seem to catch a break.

"Well, this clearly has something to do with your battle with the Dark Lord, but I've never seen anything like it. I will need to confer with St. Mungo's over this."

When he started to object, she cut him off. "I'm sorry, but your life is likely in danger. It is my duty as your healer to find out what is happening. I have my suspicions, but I need to consult with experts."

He sighed and reluctantly gave his permission for her to seek answers elsewhere.

"One last thing. I'm going to need a sample," she said, picking up a small empty vial from a cabinet on the wall.

"A sample?"

"Of your sperm."

Harry groaned and closed his eyes, wondering just how much worse his day was going to get.

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Two hours later, he sat on his usual bed in the hospital wing as Pomfrey explained what she had discovered.

"I'm afraid the news is not encouraging. It is imperative that we find a way to drain your magical core as soon as possible. Everyone agrees that your magic is literally leaking out of you, and sooner or later it will kill you. Your body simply cannot tolerate so much power."

Harry's stomach sank as she spoke. He had expected the diagnosis to be unpleasant, but not life-threatening. To have endured so much training and battle, only to die of possessing too much magic…it was absurd.

"What do we do now?" he asked weakly.

"The experts at St. Mungo's agree that there is no conventional treatment for your condition. It is simply unheard of, I'm afraid. One healer recommended that we place a block on your magic, but I believe that would either kill you or turn you into a squib."

He sighed, trying to contain his rising panic. The answers were never simple when he was involved. "Surely there's something we can do."

"Well…an old Indian healer who consults at St. Mungo's knows of a ritual. It is—unorthodox, shall we say—but it may be the only thing that can save your life."

"Whatever it is, I'll do it," Harry said hurriedly. "What kind of ritual is it?"

"It's a power sharing ritual that was once used frequently in India. It has fallen into disuse over the years, and to my knowledge it has never been used in Britain."

"Well?" he asked when she hesitated.

"It's a sex-based ritual, Mr. Potter," she said quietly. "It was designed for use between husbands and wives. It allows you to give a portion of your magic to another person. There are some strict conditions, however."

Harry's mouth dropped open at her words, and it took him a few moments to gather his wits. "Sex-based? What conditions?" he choked out.

"There must be a state of mutual affection between you and your, er, partner. It will not work with strangers or mere acquaintances with whom you are friendly."

"Is that all?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"No. I'm afraid that you will likely need to perform this ritual multiple times. The trouble is that it is dangerous to perform the ritual more than once per partner, and—well, given how much magic you need to lose, it may require several partners."

"Oh my God," he said miserably, his head falling into his hands. "This will never work. I'm going to die."

"Now, now, Mr. Potter, I'll hear none of that. This is likely the only treatment available to you, so be thankful that it exists. I'm sure there are plenty of young ladies willing to help you out. I suggest you speak to Miss Granger about this immediately. She will be able to help you create a list of potential partners."

He snorted. "You're joking."

"I'm afraid not. I don't know enough about your personal life to help. I will arrange for the ritual to take place, but you must locate willing witches on your own. Remember, it is imperative that the affection be mutual. That means you must already know the girl or woman and feel nothing but good will towards her."

Harry swallowed heavily again. He wasn't friendly with very many girls. Romance had been the last thing on his mind as he trained to face Voldemort.

"You said it was used by husbands and wives. That doesn't mean I'll be marrying the witches, does it?"

"No, but since the witches will be gaining so much of your magic, they are likely to feel a certain fondness for you the rest of their lives."

He resisted the urge to swear. How was he going to be able to find girls willing to go through with this? He was quickly developing a headache to match the pressure in his groin. His erection was straining once again against his underwear, unsatisfied with the release it had experienced earlier in the afternoon.

"How long do I have?"

"It is best for the process to begin as soon as possible. I will give you a deadline of, say, 48 hours, and then we can commence with the ritual."

"48 hours," he muttered. "Madam Pomfrey, I can't do this. I don't know anything about girls. I've barely spoken to half the girls in my year. I don't…I'm a virgin, for Merlin's sake!"

The healer shrugged. "Well, I daresay you won't be soon enough. Your partners need not be virgins themselves, and they may be of any age or power level. But you must find them soon, Mr. Potter. Time is of the essence."

He rubbed his eyes. "This could only happen to me. How many?"

"Pardon?"

"How many girls? You said I needed multiple partners."

She thought for a moment. "I recommend at least four to start, and then we can analyze your core once again."

"Fuck me," Harry muttered, and Pomfrey arched an eyebrow at him.

"It may come to that, Mr. Potter, if you don't act quickly. Now go find Miss Granger. I'm afraid I must speak to the Headmaster about this."

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A half-hour later, Harry sat alone in the Gryffindor common room, trying to think of what to say to Hermione. He had been living at Hogwarts since the final battle—there was no way he would be returning to the Dursleys—and a handful of other students had remained at the castle as well.

He had just asked Dobby to summon Hermione from the library, and he expected her any minute now. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he began to sweat as his nerves combined with his surging magic. He was comfortable on a battlefield, but the past two years of training had done little for his social skills.

He closed his eyes as Hermione opened the door to the common room and came inside. It was now or never.

"You wanted to see me, Harry?" she asked curiously. Then she noticed the state of her best friend. "Merlin, what's wrong? You look terrible!"

Hermione had grown into her looks in the past two years, and though no one would call her a great beauty, she did occasionally get a surreptitious glance. She sat down next to Harry on the couch, almost in his lap, and her closeness did nothing to ease the strain of his erection.

"I…I don't really know where to begin," he murmured, looking at his shoelaces.

"How about at the beginning?" grinned Hermione, trying to lighten his grim mood.

He blew out a large breath. "Right, then. Here goes…"

For the next few minutes, Harry explained his increased power and recent symptoms to her, blushing madly all the while. He then recounted most of what Madam Pomfrey had told him, apologizing at the end for getting her involved in yet another of his insane problems.

When he finished, Hermione started chuckling, then couldn't restrain herself from laughing outright. He blushed even harder at her response.

"Oh, Harry," she cried, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes, "this could only happen to you. I'd say you were pranking me if I didn't know you were a terrible actor."

"Well, thanks, I suppose," he said indignantly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh, really. This is serious, and you know that I'll help you however I can. You just sit tight for a few minutes. I want to speak to Madam Pomfrey."

He nodded glumly and watched her back as she retreated to the door. It didn't escape his notice that she was still shaking with suppressed laughter.

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When she returned a half-hour later, Hermione was carrying a thick book and had a more serious expression on her face.

"Right. Sorry about laughing earlier. You didn't tell me you could die from this in a matter of days."

"Must have slipped my mind," he muttered darkly.

"Hmph," she responded, seating herself next to him again. She opened the book and spread it on her lap. "I spoke to Madam Pomfrey, and she retrieved a book on the ritual for me. We need to make a list of potential girls right away."

"I know. I just…I can't believe this is real."

"Like I said, Harry, only you," Hermione replied, shaking her head and looking at the book. "It says the ritual is rooted in affection. That doesn't require love, but it does mean that you have to like the girl who, er, partners with you. She has to like you as well. It helps if you're sexually attracted to the other person, but it's not required. We need to be as thorough as possible. You start naming names, and I'll help you think them through. Age doesn't matter, but we should probably say no lower than 16."

She set aside the book and grabbed a quill and some parchment, while Harry rubbed his forehead in thought. He furtively adjusted the uncomfortable erection in his pants, but Hermione caught the movement.

"Is it, er, bothering you right now?"

He glared at her in response.

"Right," she said, the color rising in her cheeks. "The list, then?"

Harry sighed. "Well, at least we know not to include Ginny."

She snorted softly. "Yes, that's quite an easy call."

Ginny Weasley was notorious for having attempted to beguile Harry's affections with a love potion during his sixth year. She had been found out and almost universally ostracized afterwards. Ron had defended her actions to Hermione, and that potential relationship had died a sudden death as well.

Harry sat in silence for the next minute or so, lost in thought.

When he didn't immediately suggest any names, Hermione scolded him. "This is important, Harry. I can't help you if you don't give me something to work with."

She too was on edge because it was clear that her name belonged at the top of the list. They had been best friends for seven years, and there was no one closer to him.

"This is not exactly easy, Hermione," he retorted. "I'm supposed to make a list of all my friends and then ask them if they want to shag? Bloody hell," he moaned, his face finding its way into his palms again.

"I'm sorry," she said gently. "I know this is unpleasant for you. Other guys would do anything for something like this to happen to them, but you're trying to be noble, just as I should expect by now."

When he didn't respond, she continued. "We both know I'm going to be on the list, so I may as well be at the top. Now start naming names."

Harry looked up at her. "You would do this for me?"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course I would, you prat. It's not exactly how I imagined my first time to be, but I could do worse than sharing it with my best friend. Now come on, start talking."

He sighed and leaned back, grimacing again at the tightness in his crotch. "All right. What about…"

An hour later they had exhausted all possibilities, eliminating those girls who would never participate in such a thing or were already in serious relationships. The list of potential lovers for Harry consisted of only five girls:

Hermione Granger

Luna Lovegood

Nymphadora Tonks

Parvati Patil

Fleur Delacour

Hermione and Luna were obvious choices, as they were now his closest friends, along with Neville. Tonks had been his trainer during sixth year, and the two enjoyed an easy camaraderie with one another. Given how much she liked to tease Harry, Hermione had no doubt that she would participate.

The other choices were trickier. Harry had eventually made up with Parvati after their Yule Ball disaster, and the beautiful Indian girl had become friendly with him and his group over the past two years. She often flirted with him, but she flirted with lots of people. Harry was fond of her, but he was uncertain whether she liked him well enough to participate in the ritual.

Hermione had bristled slightly at the choice of Fleur Delacour, whom she did not like, but Harry had insisted that she belonged on the list. The stunningly beautiful quarter-veela had fought with the Order during the war, spending most of the previous year at Hogwarts. She had dated Bill Weasley for a time, but had broken it off with him after she discovered what his sister had attempted to do to Harry. Fleur had always treated him kindly, insisting that she owed him greatly for rescuing Gabrielle during the Tri-Wizard tournament.

They had eliminated quite a few of Harry's present and former classmates from the list of potentials. He was cordial with Susan Bones, but she had been dating Neville for several months. He was likewise on good terms with his former quidditch teammates—Angelina, Alicia, and Katie—but he hadn't seen any of the girls in over a year. He didn't think they met the condition of 'mutual affection.'

If the girls on the final list didn't want to participate, he wasn't sure what he would do.

"Okay, Harry," said Hermione, eyeing the list, "I think this is the best we can do. You need to write some letters right away, and see if the girls will come for a meeting at Hogwarts tomorrow. It's probably best not to say too much in the letter. I can help you write it if you want."

He nodded, then grimaced. "That's fine. Let's do it a little later. I need to, er, take care of something first."

"Oh," she said, catching on after a moment's confusion.

She cleared her throat. "You need to, er, relieve yourself first, I suppose. Is it really that bad?"

He sighed and closed his eyes. He simply couldn't believe he was talking to Hermione about his erection. "Yeah, it's pretty bad. It won't take long, and then we can write the letters."

He stood and made it halfway across the room before she hesitantly spoke his name.

"Erm, Harry?"

"Yeah?"

There was a few seconds of silence, and he turned to look at her. She was staring at the floor between them.

"Can I watch?" she asked uncertainly.

Harry's heart suddenly threatened to beat out of his chest. "Say what?"

"I mean…I know it's a very, er, personal thing…I just thought that…well, I don't really have any experience with this…and it might be, you know, educational. I'll be seeing all of you later, and it might make things less awkward and…"

He held up a hand to stop Hermione's rambling. "Are you bloody serious?"

"Well….yes."

He shook his head, hardly able to believe his ears. "You want to come upstairs and watch me toss one off. That is what you're saying."

"I…I…." she stuttered, her face reddening. "I just thought, since we would have to do more later, that you wouldn't mind if I observed how everything works. I've never seen a boy naked, Harry, except in a book, and I thought that…"

"Sweet fucking Merlin," he interrupted her again. "I can't believe this is happening to me."

He looked at her for a few seconds and then shrugged. "Come on then."

He turned and made his way slowly up the stairs, while Hermione remained rooted to the spot. When his words finally sank in, she hurried to follow him.

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"You're sure about this?" Harry asked, sitting on the edge of his bed.

She nodded meekly and tucked a bushy strand of hair behind her ear.

Snorting again in disbelief, he stood and slowly disrobed. When he was down to nothing but his boxers, he looked at her again.

"Last chance to bail out."

"No; go ahead," she said breathlessly, her eyes never leaving the huge bulge in Harry's boxers.

He pulled the boxers off quickly and kicked them onto his bed. They landed next to Hermione. She didn't notice.

Her eyes were locked on his fully-erect cock, pointing upwards and bouncing slightly as he moved. He spread his hands outwards in a gesture of surrender.

"That's all of me."

"Wow," she whispered. "That's…wow."

He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled smugly at her. "Hermione Granger at a loss for words. Now I've seen everything."

Her next words wiped the smile off his face.

"Is that as big as it gets?"

"Er, yeah…I mean…I know it's not that big, but…"

"That's not what I meant, Harry," she huffed, coming out of her stupor. "It looks plenty big to me."

He chuckled nervously. "Well, then, yeah, this is as big as it gets."

His eyes widened as she pulled her wand from her robes and pointed it at his penis. He hastily moved to cover himself with his hands.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?!"

"Oh," she said, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry. I was just, er, curious. May I do something?"

He nodded hesitantly, his eyes never leaving Hermione's wand. She moved closer to him, and to his shock, placed her wand at the tip of his penis and muttered something under her breath.

He shivered as she moved the tip of her wand slowly down his shaft, stopping at the patch of black hair at its base. He wondered what on earth she was doing.

She raised her wand and flicked it, leaving a number in the air.

"6.4 inches," she mused aloud. "That's slightly above average, I believe."

"Er…okay," Harry responded, still in shock that Hermione had been so bold. He should have known, he supposed, that her intellectual curiosity would overwhelm her even in a situation like this one.

She returned her wand to her robes and sat back down on the bed, placing her hands on her knees. "Sorry if I embarrassed you. I was just curious. Please proceed."

Harry snorted at his best friend. It felt like they had entered some sort of alternate reality. He suspected she wouldn't be quite so calm if he were staring at her nude body.

"Right. I'm just…Merlin, I can't believe I'm doing this…I'm just going to close my eyes so I don't see you, alright?"

She swallowed and nodded. "Just pretend I'm not here. I don't want to, er, make you uncomfortable."

"A little late for that."

He grabbed a clean sock from his trunk and moved to the edge of the bed; he was within three feet of her, giving her an open view of what was happening.

He closed his eyes, trying to ignore her presence, and began stroking. Light at first, his grip hardened as he applied more pressure to his cock, wanting this awkward scene to be over as soon as possible. The pressure building in his loins was calling out for release, and he longed for the sensation of relief that would follow even more than he longed for the sensation of orgasm.

After thirty seconds of stroking, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt something brush the tip of his penis. He opened his eyes and looked at Hermione questioningly.

She was examining a glistening drop of pre-cum on the tip of her finger. When she noticed his attention, she blushed to the roots of her hair. "Sorry. It was about to, er…well, sorry."

Harry stared at her, amazed at what was happening in his dorm room. "No worries."

She met his eyes and coughed nervously. "I didn't mean to touch you. I was just curious. How long does it usually take?"

"Not long now. Just a couple minutes when I'm really pent up."

She nodded and crossed her arms over her chest, ready for the show to continue.

He closed his eyes and began stroking himself again, moving rhythmically for almost a minute. His pace increased and his breathing became shallow as he felt orgasm approaching.

He suddenly stopped when he heard Hermione move closer to him. He opened his eyes and saw that her face was slightly flushed as she leaned in closer for a better look.

He raised an eyebrow, and she blushed again when she met his eyes.

"Sorry, I, er…just wanted to see what happened. Were you about to finish?"

Harry sighed. This was simultaneously the strangest and most erotic experience of his life. As mortified as he was, he was also turned on by the thought of Hermione watching him masturbate. He had occasionally fantasized about just such a scenario, but he had never imagined it becoming real.

"I was, but you seem intent on interrupting me. Did you want to help?"

He had asked the question glibly, expecting her to scold him for his impertinence.

Instead she cleared her throat. "Would you, er, mind if I did?"

His penis answered for him, throbbing at the thought of her assistance. She was his best friend, but she was also a girl staring at his cock. His heart started racing.

"You really want to?"

"Yes," she said, not bothering to justify her answer with an excuse.

"Er, okay then."

She repositioned herself on the bed and reached forward hesitantly with her hand. Harry shivered when she made contact.

She ran her index finger along the length of him, testing the texture and feel of his skin. She made small swirls around his engorged head, fascinated at the pulse it made in response.

"Your skin is so soft," she murmured, and he nearly moaned as her finger lightly explored the underside of his cock.

He exhaled when she gripped his balls lightly in her hand, exploring their weight and texture. She gave him a slight squeeze, and Harry closed his eyes to savor the feeling.

She finally wrapped her hand around his cock, and he moaned in relief. She squeezed him firmly, testing his hardness. Her hand felt so soft compared to his own. She looked up at him, then slowly moved her hand up and down his length, almost teasing him with her gentleness.

It felt to him as if her fingers were barely making contact with his skin. The sensation was maddening.

"Am I doing it right?"

"Merlin, yes," he groaned. "Don't stop. Just grip me harder."

Hermione obeyed and stroked him in earnest, her grip tightening and her tempo increasing. He panted as her hand moved closer to his throbbing head, concentrating most of her friction there. It wasn't long before he was ready to explode. She looked up at him when his abdominal muscles contracted.

"I'm about to cum. Please don't stop," he panted, and held out the sock before him.

Three strokes later, Harry's cock twitched in her hand and he shot forcefully onto the waiting sock. Six times he drilled it, until its soaked edge began spilling his cum onto the bed.

She continued stroking as his release pulsed slowly out, dropping onto the bedspread and sliding down his cock to coat her hand. When he finally opened his eyes, she stopped tugging and looked at him inquisitively.

"Did that feel good?" she asked, slightly out of breath.

"Merlin, yes," he sighed. "So good you wouldn't understand. It's such a relief….well, I mean, obviously…but it's more than that. It releases my magic somehow."

Hermione nodded in understanding and opened her hand, examining the white fluid that coated her fingers. She raised them to her nose and sniffed, and Harry laughed at her.

She blushed. "What? I'm curious. It smells a little like muggle bleach. And it's so warm."

He shrugged. "I suppose. I can't say that I've studied the matter."

She stuck out her tongue at him and drew her wand with her left hand. She deftly scourgified her hand, then did likewise for Harry's dripping sock and the wet bedspread.

"Well, that was interesting," she said matter-of-factly, giving him a shy smile. "I can't believe I just did that."

Harry grinned at her, relaxed now that he had spent himself. "I can't believe you did either, but I'm not complaining. Feel free to experiment on me whenever you'd like."

She smiled at his sincerity. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you. I just wondered what…well, you know…I suppose we'll have to do a lot more than that very soon."

"True," he agreed, not quite knowing how to discuss such a thing with his best friend. "I guess we should get started on those letters, huh?"

She nodded, but Harry noticed that she was staring at his cock again. Despite his orgasm, it was still standing at attention.

"Isn't it supposed to get smaller now?"

"Well…yeah, it's supposed to, but it stays hard pretty much all the time now. Just one of the symptoms of my condition, Madam Pomfrey said. It's bloody uncomfortable, actually."

He was a little surprised that he no longer felt embarrassed to be nude in front of Hermione.

"I bet," she replied, getting to her feet.

"All right, Harry, let's get started on those letters. We need to find you some girls to shag."

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