R-rated Fanfic, the Final Chapter!

Here it is! Enjoy.

+++

“I believe that the storm ought to break by morning,” said Albus Dumbledore, “at which time it will be safe for both of you to return to Hogwarts. Until then, I recommend that you spend the night here. The very accommodating Prudence Temperata has been good enough to loan this room to you for the evening.” His eyes twinkled as he gave Draco and Ginny a sugary-sweet look over his spectacles.

“Miss Weasley, Mr. Malfoy… I expect both of you to behave yourselves properly,” said McGonagall briskly, “which is why I have requested that the standard ‘Crystal Palace Welcome Basket’ be left at the bedside. It should appear shortly, and I trust that you will use its contents in such a fashion as to bring honor upon both Slytherin and Gryffindor. House points will be awarded on your return to school, so I expect a full report.”

“Goodnight,” said Dumbledore in a kindly voice. As McGonagall swept out of the room ahead of him, he leaned down to whisper to Ginny.

“Mr. Malfoy really does have a rather extraordinary wicket set, doesn’t he? And such very impressive equipment overall… yes… you see, I know all about the spyholes you’ve cut in the Slytherin boys’ Quidditch changing rooms. Especially those in the showers. You’re a regular visitor at three o’clock on Tuesdays and Fridays, which just happen to be the precise times when Mr. Malfoy may be found there, isn’t that so?”

She looked up at him with terrified eyes and opened her mouth. Nothing came out.

“Never fear,” said Dumbledore conspiratorially. “Your secret is safe with me.”


The door slammed shut. How can Dumbledore know? He can’t… he absolutely can’t… nobody can possibly know I cut those spyholes this spring. I imagined the entire thing. Yes. That must be it. Ginny decided that for her continued sanity, it would be best to decide that she had suffered a temporary attack by an Audersnatch, a miniscule bird which Luna had told her was very fond of flying into people’s ears and planting bizarre conversations that had never taken place.

“Whatever did he say to you?” Draco asked her.

“Uh… he just wanted to remind me that I should act in a pure, maidenly, innocent way that would, um, bring honor on the name of Weasley and all of Gryffindor House, even though I was spending the night in the most famous whorehouse in the entire wizarding world,” said Ginny. Shite! This is getting worse and worse. I wonder if I really was attacked by an Audersnatch! But in that case, I really did imagine it all. That simply has to be the case. My secret spying on soapy, sweaty, showering Slytherins is safe… well, only one showering Slytherin, actually…

Draco raised his eyebrows, but let the comment pass. Then he let a perfectly wicked smile spread over his face. Ginny answered it with her own. She began to giggle, and he began to snort, and within seconds, they were both rolling all over the heart-shaped bed, screaming with helpless laughter.

“Oh! Oh,” gasped Ginny. “What was your favorite one, Draco?”

“When I asked you if I could pet your pussy,” Draco answered promptly. “I knew the top of your brother’s head would come off when he heard that one.”

“I’m sure it did! Hermione probably had to fasten Ron’s head back on again…” Ginny laughed until she had to clutch her stomach and gasp hopelessly for breath before she could go on. “My, my favorite had to be when you said we could play ‘hide the salami’ all afternoon.”

Draco laughed harder than Ginny had ever imagined he could. “I’m glad we kept that one,” he finally managed to say. “I wanted to try ‘taking old one-eye to the optometrist’, but there really wasn’t any way to make it work.”

His face was right next to hers, and it looked so happy and alive, Ginny thought. She would never, never have believed that Draco Malfoy could look that way. He’d always looked so dreadfully unhappy when she watched him in the Slytherin changing rooms; she’d hardly been able to restrain herself from bursting into the door and taking him in her arms, although she was rather glad that she’d been able to restrain the usual insanely brave Weasley response in that case. He had sneered and scowled at her for days on end when they’d first been assigned as Potions partners, which had first made Ginny furious, and then made her plan hideous revenge involving Transfiguration spells, detrousering, and ferret cages, and then led to sad decisions that she’d just have to keep her appallingly strong attraction to Malfoy a deep, dark secret. Even when they’d found out that Ron was hatching his demented plot to have them followed all over school, even when they’d decided to come up with their own plan to fool him, yes, even when they’d found that list of sexual euphemisms and picked elaborate scenarios to act out for their favorites… she’d never imagined that Draco could look the way he did now.

“You’re so much more handsome when you laugh,” she said without thinking, and then wanted to bite her tongue off. Idiot!

“So you’re implying I’m not devilishly handsome all the time?” Draco asked impishly.

“I—no. I mean yes. I didn’t mean that. I mean—“ Ginny could feel that she was beginning to blush. For a Weasley, this was not a good thing, as it gave the distinct impression that her head had been dipped in red paint. “I mean that it’s been awfully fun to fool Ron this way.”

“Almost too easy, though,” said Draco. “A bit like shooting flobberworms in a barrel, isn’t it?”

Ginny’s brows drew together into one thick line.

“Sorry, sorry,” Draco said quickly.

“Ouch!” yelled Ginny.

“What? What happened? Did you hurt yourself?” Draco was instantly alert.

“No. I, uh…” Ginny bit her lip. “Look, I pinched myself, all right? I couldn’t really quite believe that a Malfoy had apologized to a Weasley for anything.”

“Ah,” said Draco. “I see. Yes, I didn’t realize.”

An awkward silence fell.

After a few minutes, the bed creaked as Draco got off it. Ginny fought down a feeling of disappointment that was clearly ridiculous. She cleared her throat. “I suppose we should both go and find where we’re supposed to sleep now,” she said.

“Yes, that’s what I thinking as well,” Draco said tonelessly. “Dumbledore said that we’d been provided rooms, didn’t he?”

“Uh…” Ginny tried to remember exactly what had been said. Something odd about a ‘Crystal Palace Welcome Basket’ that was going to appear shortly. Unless that had been part of the Audersnatch problem too… “I think so,” she said rather lamely.

“After you,” said Draco, opening the door.

Except that it didn’t open. The handle didn’t even turn. Draco shook it several times, and then took out his wand. His eyebrows shot up. “Ah… Weasley...”

Apparently they were back to last names now, Ginny thought drearily. “What is it?”

“We’re locked in. And we will be until morning.”

Ginny didn’t look at him. She took out her own wand and tried a few opening spells, none of which worked.

“It’s a rather powerful spell,” said Draco. “There’s nothing I can do about it. We’ll have to stay in this room.”

As if drawn by an irresistible force, both of them turned back to look at the bed at the same moment. The one bed. The one heart-shaped bed. The one heart-shaped, vibrating bed. Suddenly, Ginny was absolutely sure that she could hear her own heart beat. Draco was looking at her. She just knew he was. She could feel his gaze on her. She remembered what had happened as they studied Potions together, how he’d first begun to look at her, really look at her, or so she thought, how she’d convinced herself that he’d first begun to see her as something more than a Weasley. Sometimes she was sure she was right, and sometimes, particularly at about three in the morning, after one of her awful nightmares about Tom Riddle, she had the bone-deep conviction that she was simply wrong about Draco Malfoy. He was a cruel spoiled brat at best, and a twisted, amoral excuse for a human being at worst. She could never forget that he had knelt to Voldemort and taken the Dark Mark at sixteen, and that he had tried to get Death Eaters into the school and to kill all her friends only the year before. But then there was the way his face lit up sometimes when they were working together on an assignment, or the way they’d smiled and laughed together when they were plotting revenge against her brother… or the way they’d sat so close together, their heads bent only inches from each other, their hands touching, when they’d been reading over that list of euphemisms for sex.

“Weasley?” asked a voice. She looked up and saw Draco’s face only inches from hers, looking confused. Confused, and… beautiful. He’s beautiful, and his lips are so pink and so full, and they’re sort of half open, and he’s looking at me with those big gray eyes, and—and neither one of us can get that door open! And we’re stuck here until morning with a heart-shaped bed! And… and he smells like chocolate…or something… what is that?

Ginny leaned closer. Draco stepped back from her. A stab of despair darted through her chest. And suddenly, horribly, all the euphemisms they hadn’t used popped into her head.

Draco started poking around the room, looking dubiously at some very large and oddly shaped pillows. “Weasley, I don’t really know what we’re going to do for sleeping accommodations…”

A bit of the old in & out. The act of darkness. Adam and Eve it. All's well when ends meet. Oh, God, what’s that pillow for? I don’t want to know!

“You can have the bed, of course. I suppose I’ll just have to sleep on the floor…” Draco bent over to examine a pillow more closely. “Why is this thing square-shaped, I wonder?”

Ginny edged closer to him and gave a small squeak. He was leaning over in front of her. And Ron was right! His trousers really were altogether too tight in back. Dance the buttock jig… do the deed… dip the chip… eating the cream puff in the enchanted forest…

“There’s a very nice bathroom over here,” called Draco. She followed him as if pulled by a string. “Yes, Weasley, lots of towels, er… oh. A heart-shaped tub. Quite a theme around here…

Featherbed jig. Feed the kitty. Filling the cream doughnut.Fit end to end. Fit her clap flap.
Five knuckle shuffle. Oh, God, no more! Ginny began to whimper.

Draco started taking some blankets down from a shelf and arranging them on the floor. Ginny breathed a little easier. Just a little. He’s making up his bed on the floor. He’ll sleep there, I’ll sleep on the vibrating heart-shaped bed—stop it, Ginny! It only vibrates if you put a Knut in! All right, the decidedly non-vibrating heart-shaped bed, then. If I can just get through that bit, then everything will go smoothly. I won’t think about dancing the Funky Chicken, giving juice for jelly, or having a bit of sugar stick, and especially not hopping on the good foot and doing the bad thing!

Draco arranged a square-shaped pillow. Ginny fluffed the blankets on the bed. Thank all the gods! The hard part’s almost over… that long, long agonizingly hard part… um… scratch that. Anyway, it’s smooth sailing from here on out.

At that moment, a huge wicker basket appeared in a puff of smoke. Ginny had a sudden presentiment of doom. An exceptionally long moment of silence dragged by. Draco was staring at it without moving a muscle. He could clearly see it from his position on the floor, as she could not. Finally, she cleared her throat.

“That must be the official Crystal Palace welcome basket,” Ginny said brightly. “The one McGonagall was talking about.”

Draco said nothing.

“I’ll bet it has sweets and fruit or something,” said Ginny. “Maybe crackers too! A snack would be nice right now, don’t you think, Malfoy?”

More dead silence.

“Uh…. Malfoy?” Ginny knelt down on the floor beside him. “Are there any bananas in it?”

In answer, Draco held up a large purple dildo.

“Oh,” Ginny said weakly.

She had a very good view of the contents of the basket. It certainly was a wide and varied selection, she thought numbly. She’d heard the whispers in the Gryffindor girls’ common room about the Hogsmeade Floral Bouquet and Sex Shop. She knew what to expect. They certainly don’t leave anything out, she thought.

At last, Ginny felt she had to say something to break the silence. “I didn’t know there were so many shapes that latex could be formed into. Look at this… and this… and, uh, this… and I had no idea there were so many types of Vibrating charms… oops, I think I’ve turned this one on and I don’t really know how to turn it off and… oh dear…”

The buzzing latex item bounced enthusiastically across the floor towards Draco. Stone-faced, he picked it up, clicked the off switch, and stuffed it back in the basket.

“Uh… thank you, Malfoy. And I wonder what these are,” said Ginny, lifting a pair of items linked together by a chain. “I think Bill used something like these to clamp together two pieces of wood for a project he was working on once…”

Draco plucked it from her fingers and threw it across the room, glaring at her fiercely.

Ginny gulped. “And this… sort of feathery thing--- hmmm…” She waved it in the air. It tickled Draco’s nose. He snatched it out of her hand. Then he broke it over one knee and handed the pieces back to her without a word.

Ginny took a deep breath. Suddenly, horribly, she was close to tears. She jumped to her feet and ran to the door. Draco was behind her in a heartbeat, his hand on her shoulder, trying to turn her round, and oh God, even that sort of contact sent tingles all the way down her body and it shouldn’t, she knew it shouldn’t.

“What do you think you’re doing, Weasley?” he snarled.

“I, I, I’m finding a way out of this room,” she hiccupped.

“You can’t get out of here, and neither can I! Weren’t you listening to me? Didn’t you see me trying to unlock the door?”

“I’m getting out of here no matter what I have to do!” Ginny began hammering on the door with her fists. Draco grabbed her from behind.

“Stop it, you bloody idiot! Stop it right now, right this second, you can’t get out. Just come back and lie down and we’ll go to sleep. Can’t you just be quiet?”

Ginny whirled on him, her eyes blazing. “No! No, I can’t just be quiet, Malfoy, and I don’t want to lie down! Unless—“

“Unless what?” Draco demanded, his furious face inches from hers. “Unless we’re going to lose the match and pocket the stake?” An expression of horror spread over his face. “Wait—wait—I didn’t mean to say that—“

The floodgates finally came down. “No!” shrieked Ginny. “Unless you’re going to throw me onto that heart-shaped, vibrating bed and show me what every last one of those latex things is used for! And those clampy things too! And the bottles of Sizzling Sorceress Lubricant! And those odd inflatable items! And I’m quite sure the square pillows are somehow involved! Not unless you’re going to have sex with me, Malfoy, because I’ve had a bellyful of euphemisms, and I can’t stand one more! I never want to hear another as long as I live! Sex! That’s what I want! Sexy sexy sex! From you! Right here! Right now! I’ve petted enough unicorns to last me a lifetime, Malfoy, so you’d better drag me into that bed and deflower me this instant, or I’m going to empty that entire basket of quite heavy-looking sex toys over your head!”

Draco looked at her blankly.

Ginny’s shoulders drooped. “I’m going to sleep in the heart-shaped tub in the bathroom,” she whispered sadly, turning to leave. “Just give me one of the square pillows, if you don’t mind.”

“No, just wait a moment,” said Draco. “I’m in complete and utter shock.”

Ginny waited. “Are you over it yet?” she asked impatiently. “Look, I’d like to know one way or the other, Malfoy.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “Just one more minute.”

The seconds ticked by. Ginny looked at her watch.

“All right,” said Draco. “I’m ready now.”

“Good,” snapped Ginny, “because I think I’d rather like to run a bath— oh!” All the breath was slammed out of her as Draco shoved her against the wall and began kissing her with all his strength.

“The past three months of constant proximity to you,” groaned Draco, lick, lick, lick, “followed by a steady diet of sexual euphemisms,” sluuuuurp,, “ and combined with the general state of heterosexual seventeen-year-old boyhood,” passionate, searing, desperate, devouring snog!, “have all conspired to drive me mad. I’ve wanted nothing more than to fuck your brains out for a long time now, Ginny Weasley, in every position, combination, and setting imaginable. Now that I know that you’re ready, willing, and eager for sex with me, my biological drives have taken near-complete control of my mind. Everything seems to be going black. It’s a sexual emergency, Ginny…”

“I’d like to rescue you,” said Ginny. “How about if I offer you my naked body? Or, well, you’d tear my clothes off, and then I’d be naked.” A pause. “Draco?” she asked rather anxiously. “I don’t have a current certification in wizarding CPR, you know.” She nudged him with a foot. He sprang to life with alarming speed and scooped her up in his arms.

“Offer… accepted,” panted Draco. “I am now… going… to fuck you. We will start on the vibrating heart-shaped bed.” He dumped her on it. “Continuing said activities in a heart-shaped tub sounds like an excellent idea, which we will explore at a somewhat later hour of the night, as well as locations such as up against walls, on the floor, and hanging from chandeliers. I’m going to make you scream for me, Ginny. I’m going to learn about every inch of that luscious sensual little body of yours, I’m going to stimulate every nerve… And I’m going to introduce you to the contents of that basket, slowly and thoroughly, except for certain latex items that I can assure you will be very redundant.”

“I know,” breathed Ginny, her hands moving up to the collar of his shirt. She had forgotten how to get buttons through buttonholes, she realized, so she began to simply rip it off. “I’ve been watching you in the Slytherin boys’ Quidditch changing rooms all spring.”

“Have you,” purred Draco. “Then you know how large my equipment really is, Ginny…”

“I do.” She smirked at him. “You have the biggest broom in Slytherin, Draco. But after watching you, I know the truth.”

“And what’s that?” asked Draco.

“It’s nothing compared to your penis,” she said. She gave a contented sigh and ran her hands over his smooth, muscled chest, feeling him shiver as she flicked at his flat male nipples with her fingernails. “We’ve run out of euphemisms at last, and you know, I’m so glad. Because now I can just tell you that you’ve got the most beautiful cock, Draco.”

“I do, don’t I?” he said, leaning down to kiss her. “So let’s take each other’s clothes off, then enjoy some long, slow, astonishing foreplay, and I’ll give you so many orgasms that you’ll lose count and so will I and we’ll have to start all over again… and then how about if I fuck you with it all night long?”

Ginny started to give enthusiastic assent, but Draco started kissing her again and then deftly tearing off her blouse in strips, and she gave the effort up for lost. That’s the best idea I’ve ever heard, she thought contentedly. Sex, sex, and more sex…

“Yes, I quite agree,” murmured Draco, kissing his way down her neck. “Why does anybody think they need to make up euphemisms for it, anyway?”

+++

Four o’clock the next morning…

Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall stood in the corridor of the Crystal Palace, surveying the locked bedroom door.

“Ah, young love,” Dumbledore said, his eyes growing misty. “So very sweet, isn’t it?”

“I quite agree,” said McGonagall. “It’s really preferable to our other plan.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Of course, that would have been effective as well.”

“Dressing Miss Weasley in nothing but green lace lingerie and then chaining her to Mr. Malfoy’s bed in the Slytherin dungeons certainly would have proved quite effective,” McGonagall agreed. “A light sedative would have been most useful to facilitate the matter.”

“And yet, not as touching and tender as young love,” said Dumbledore.

McGonagall smiled at him. “Albus, I do believe that you are a romantic at heart.”

“Ah, yes,” he said, pressing his ear to the door. “Unfortunately, I can’t hear a thing. I wonder if the matter has been, er, consummated as of yet? It’s nearly dawn, so one would think…

“According to the rumors circulating in the Slytherin dungeons concerning Mr. Malfoy, it’s been consummated several times, and quite successfully too,” said McGonagall dryly. “He’s put a Silencing charm on the door.”

“Such a clever boy,” said Dumbledore, beaming. “Far too clever for him to be allowed to fall into Voldemort’s clutches.”

“But Albus, do you really believe our plan will work?” McGonagall asked, a frown creasing her forehead.”Voldemort will attack the school at the end of term. We both know this. He will try to lure Draco Malfoy back to his side with promises of power.”

Dumbledore patted her hand. “Now, now, Minerva, don’t fret. He is a seventeen-year-old boy, and after all, Voldemort can only offer him dominion over the entire wizarding world. Ginny Weasley, however, can offer him endless hours of hot sex. That is, after all, ‘the power which the Dark Lord knows not.’”

“How right you are, as always, Albus!” Minerva said coquettishly, peeking at him from under her lashes. “And since we know that our vigilance is no longer required… would you care to play a game or two of pickle-me, tickle-me? Or perhaps twenty-toes, or tiddlywinks?”

“Why, yes, Minerva, I would,” said Dumbledore, leading her down the hall to an unused bedroom. “I simply adore those games, as you know. And then after playing them, perhaps we could spend the rest of the morning in mutually enjoyable fucking.” He smiled fondly at her. “I do so enjoy playing a spot of cricket for both teams, don’t you?”

“Thoroughly,” agreed McGonagall. “Also, there’s nothing like having plenty of sex with both men and women, Albus. I’m a firm believer in bisexuality as well! Just ask Madam Hooch.”

Ron sat bolt upright in bed. “Hermione!” he whimpered.

She stirred at his side, yawning, running her hand along his back and arms. Mmm. Who knew that Ron Weasley’s biggest Beater’s bat isn’t the one he uses on the Quidditch pitch? “What is it, Ron?” she whispered.

He stared into the darkness, eyes full of horror. “I just overheard something bloody awful. It was horrifying. Dumbledore was talking about my sister and Malfoy and hot sex and Voldemort, and then McGonagall said something about pickle-me, tickle-me. And twenty-toes! And tiddly-winks! Oh, Hermione—hold me, you’ve got to—“

“Shh, sh,” said Hermione soothingly. “It was only a dream, Ron. Shh, it’s all right… But she shuddered, because she knew that it hadn’t been. The door of their room had been open just a crack, and she’d not only heard Dumbledore and McGonagall, but also seen them. But there were some things in this world, Hermione decided, that a girl just had to keep to herself.

“Do you want to go back to sleep, Ron?” she asked gently.

“No,” murmured Ron, grabbing her hand and guiding it to a location that caused Hermione’s eyebrows to shoot up. After that last session, she’d rather expected Ron to need several days of recovery time, at least. Apparently not…

“I want to shag some more, Hermione. I think I’d like to just keep shagging you for about a month… maybe we could just stay here… Anything new you’d like to try? Any ideas? Hermione, I just want to fuck you until we both come so many times that we melt into quivering puddles of ecstasy. Not sure where that phrase came from, but I rather like it… I have some ideas about how to do it. I was wondering if you had some as well. Do you? Will you share them with me? ”

“Well,” whispered Hermione, a smile quirking up her lips, “Idid spend a great deal of time in the Restricted Section studying Dr. Popperworth’s Agonizingly Detailed Dictionary of Sexual Positions this spring, Ron. I could tell you about some of them… or maybe show you…”

“Show and tell sounds good,” said Ron with a smirk worthy of Draco Malfoy. And even as show and tell began, Hermione couldn’t help having a fleeting thought. I wonder if this sort of enthusiasm and experimentation is a Weasley trait? Er… could it be that Ginny has it as well? And is it possible that Malfoy’s finding out about it right now?

If so, decided Hermione, that she rather hoped for Draco Malfoy’s sake that his stamina was close to superhuman. But… it wasn’t really necessary to share her theories with Ron, now was it? A smile quirked up the corners of her lips. Oh, yes! There are things that a girl needs to keep to herself.

“Ron,” she managed to gasp. “Let’s try Position #678.9. Unless… can boys really bend that way?”

“Don’t know until I try,” said Ron, with a perfectly devilish glint in his eye.

Except for things like that, decided Hermione.

And since Draco was thinking more or less the same thing as Hermione was at that moment, except that bubble bath, Ginny Weasley, and rubber duckies of various sizes were involved, everything worked out for the best. (Oh, really now! The rubber duckies were floating innocently in the bathtub while Draco and Ginny proceeded to… well, this fic’s rated R, so we’ll just stop there.) Anyway, it can honestly be said that all’s well that ends well. Evil was later defeated, good ultimately triumphed, and Voldemort slunk away at the end of term after a failed attempt at enticing Draco back to the powers of nastiness, gnashing his teeth and hissing, “Curses! Foiled by a nubile Gryffindor sex kitten again! How can the Dark Side ever hope to compete with the fleshy allure of parking one’s pink Plymouth in the garage of love? Not to mention all that lengthy hard-core fucking Ginny offers him in the backseat on a regular basis. Oh, well… back to the drawing board, I suppose. Maybe Sauron is hiring. At least in Middle-Earth, nobody ever seems to have sex.”

Let’s see… what other loose ends might there be to tie up? Well, Harry burst in upon the scene just in time to fail to save the day, heroically proclaiming “Ginny! I’ll rescue you from the clutches of evil!” in best hero-ish hero-y fashion, brandishing his wand, spear, sword, staff, magic helmet, and various other phallic symbols meant to supplement personal inadequacies. Ginny, however, was more than happy to be in the clutches of—well, not quite evil, perhaps, but Draco did have a little devil’s outfit that he was very fond of teasing her with sometimes. When Harry made his far-from-welcome appearance, she was both highly unimpressed and quite busy in Position #9878.pi, which involved handcuffs, twisting one leg round a chandelier, and whistling Dixie whilst Draco fucked her senseless and fed her Death by Chocolate cake with a spoon. Harry laid eyes on Draco’s impressive equipment and immediately suffered the most devastating ego loss in history, which was made immeasurably worse at the sight of the magnificent Malfoy penis (really, as if the sight of Draco’s broom propped up against the wall wasn’t bad enough…)

“Oh, Bob… Rob… Rick… Ralph… whatsisname….,” whimpered Harry, staggering down the corridor. “And the other one… whosis… oh, the one with the tits… My dearest, oldest friends! I need them so much!” He burst into Ron’s room, arms outstretched. “Comfort me!” he whined.

Unfortunately, Ron and Hermione were currently engaged in Position # 876.985, otherwise known as “riding the disco stick.” This gave Harry the maximum opportunity for unbelievably unflattering comparisons to his own, shall we say, “disco stick.” This was really quite unfortunate, seeing as how it drove him to run all the way to Hogsmeade, screeching incoherently about “burping the worm in the mole hole”, “doing some ladies' tailoring”, and “crashing the custard truck”. Harry ran out into the main street, still screeching, which precipitated a crash with an actual custard truck. He was then taken away to the psychiatric ward at St. Mungo’s, which was probably best for all concerned.

“Oh, come on, Draco,” said Ginny in the other room, as he slowly painted her naked breasts with melted dark chocolate. “I really feel like I should do something to help Harry… oh!! You’re making it awfully hard for me to think.” He swirled his tongue around one of her nipples in a leisurely way.

“All right, all right. Since you ask so nicely. But I may have to make you beg a little harder later on to make up for it, Ginny…” He cocked an eyebrow at her. Then he dipped his finger in the chocolate again and slowly traced a trail down between her breasts, following it with his tongue. Ginny shivered, shook, moaned, grabbed onto Draco’s hair, clamped her thighs around his hips and started wriggling the samba, and forgot all about Harry.

But Draco didn’t. After they had eaten all the melted chocolate in various creative ways and sponged each other off in the bathtub, and Ginny was taking a short nap, he sent the ghost librarian at Malfoy Manor a note.

Dear Ziggy—Do you think you could provide a bit of help for Harry Potter? Yes, yes, I know this is asking a lot, and I’m quite certain he’s going to be the most hopeless case you’ve ever seen in your entire career, but perhaps some friends and colleagues would be willing to lend a hand as well. My girlfriend feels sorry for him, you see, and I really need to secure my continued access to a supply of amazingly hot sex. You know what you’ve always said about the id. Also… well… I’m beginning to think… only beginning, mind you… that it’s within the realm of possibility that I may be... well,I don't even want to hint at it quite yet. Don’t tell anyone I let a hinty hint drop; it’s strictly against the Malfoy code, as you know. Promise me you’ll carry the slightest clue to the grave!! Bit late for that, I suppose, but you know what I mean. Anyway… do try to help me out with Harry Potter, all right? Must dash. Ginny’s waking up and she’s got that look in her eye, and that feathery tickly thing in her hand. –D.

The ghost of Sigmund Freud read the note, shook his head, and thought glumly that founding modern psychiatry had been a walk in a Viennese park next to trying to help Harry Potter with his problems. “Ach, but what a pain in the tuchus this will be!” he sighed. A delayed postscript appeared on Draco’s note. P.S.: If the Harry Potter project seems a bit much to take on, maybe Carl Jung would be willing to try. Freud’s eyebrows rose as he chomped ominously on the end of his cigar. “That scheisskopf Jung is not getting one over on me! Him and his archetypes…”

In the end, the largest gathering in history of psychiatrists, psychologists, social workers, counselors, life coaches, personal trainers, pet therapists, snake handlers, and reiki practitioners, living and/or dead, worked together on the ultimately fruitless attempt to improve Harry Potter’s mental health in any way. (Pet therapy was a particular failure. The cats all bit Harry on the first day, and the gerbils committed mass suicide.) After a year of intensive daily therapy with no results, Colin Creevey sneaked into the back ward of St. Mungo’s on a hippogriff for a friendly visit. Nobody ever knew exactly what happened that night, but in the morning, Harry’s room was empty. Nothing was left behind except for several photographs so scandalous that they were immediately locked in a top secret high-security vault at the Ministry of Magic. However, rumor has it that Colin, Harry, and Butch (the hippogriff) are currently all quite happy and living in a straw hut on one of the more remote South Sea islands.

The only odd thing about it all was that the Excessively Extensive List of Salaciously Sexual Euphemisms originally used by Draco and Ginny mysteriously disappeared from the Hogwarts library and was never seen again. There are rumors, of course, that it ended up taped to the wall of the ‘Top-Secret Gryffindor Male Homosexuality Subtext Gymnasium and Leather Bar’. However, all questions as to its whereabouts are always met with extremely innocent looks from Justin Finch-Fletchley, so really, dear reader, that’s simply the end of the story.
== the end===

=== epilogue===
“Wait! Wait! Wait!” panted Nick, running frantically alongside the final chapter and jumping in the air repeatedly in an attempt to catch it. However, it picked up steam, pulling smoothly out of the station, and his efforts were in vain. Ginny popped her head out of a window and stuck her tongue out at him.

“Missed!! Haha!” she jeered. “And no, I’m not letting you on, Nick, so don’t ask.”

“But I’ve been chasing you for four chapters now,” he pleaded.

“I don’t care. This fic has a simple plot and we’re keeping it that way, which means that you’re not allowed anywhere near it.”

“But, but you can’t. I was going to send you on a convoluted journey through the steppes of Outer Mongolia on the back of a yak after Draco, who was in a desperate race against time to find the lost kumiss recipe of Genghis Khan, except that then you were kidnapped by the eighteenth cousin of Deepak Chopra, who forced you to attain enlightenment with the direct descendant of Amida Buddha, who was running a snack bar called Custard’s Last Stand in Rosebud, South Dakota--“ Nick ran faster.

Ginny’s eyebrows drew together into one straight, furious line. “Nick, if you ever even try to get me stuck in the fic you just described or anything remotely like it, being cast out of heaven by the angels into the depths of the eternal lake of fire will be a pleasant stroll in the Mall of America compared to what I’ll do when I get my hands on you.“

“That’s it!” exclaimed Nick, clapping his hands together. “You and Draco in the Mall of America! With that sixty-foot Spongebob Squarepants statue! Wearing giant cheese hats! Sipping blue raspberry slurpees! Tragically separated by evil techobots who turn Draco into a mutant Transformer! I can see it all now.”

“Oooh—“ Ginny began furiously.

Since Draco pulled her back into the chapter at that precise moment, purring, “Where’s my naughty little kitten with a whip?” and dangling a pint of chocolate ice cream on a chain, that was the end of the conversation, which was undoubtedly—at least from the point of view of Draco, Ginny, and continued hot, steamy, scorching, sweaty, and very, very sticky sex—a Mighty Good Thing.

“Damn,” said Nick, watching the chapter disappear over the horizon. “This fic was supposed to be… let’s see…well, according to my original evil plan, anyway… Delirium, be a doll and give me that, would you?” He rummaged in a tote bag, throwing out several squeaky cartoon chess pieces that bounced on the floors and chased each other around in circles, a very distracted-looking white rabbit, and a yellowed parchment scroll.
“There’s that manuscript that has the secrets of the vampire ancestor, they’re looking for it in the other fic, and it’s a matter of life, death, and the fate of millions…” muttered Nick. “Well, it’s just their hard luck that it showed up in this one, I’m afraid.” He stuffed it back into the bag and yanked the rabbit up by the ears. “But I’m late, I’m late, for a very important date!” it said anxiously, pressing its paws together. Unmoved, Nick tossed it the rabbit after the scroll and pulled out a staggeringly huge book, which fell on the floor with a tremendous thud. “This fic was supposed to be 4,398,879.8 chapters long,” he sighed. “Oh, if I could have just caught Draco and Ginny in time!”

“Cheer up,” Delirium said consolingly, skipping at his side. “I’ll bet we’ll get them next time. Here. Have a balloon.” She picked one from a large bunch she was carrying between two fingers and gave it to Nick. He looked dubiously up at it. The Mad Hatter and the March Hare were cackling wildly as they chased Alice around a tea table, both throwing handfuls of gold stars everywhere.

“Oh, Delirium, why did they do it?” moaned Nick. “Why?”

“I can never figure out why anybody does anything,” said Delirium. “Sometimes I do try to think about it…” She tried, frowning hard. Each of her mismatched blue and green eyes swirled in a different direction, and the fish swimming around her red-gold hair swished their tails nervously. In psychiatric hospitals around the world, patients suddenly looked blank or began mumbling to themselves again, and their doctors sighed, and wondered why yet another medication had stopped working. Damn Glaxo-Smith-Kline! Still, they do keep giving me all those free pens and post-it notes.

“It’s just too difficult,” Delirium finally said. “I’d rather think about things like new flavors of ice cream. Chocolate telephone might be nice.” She jumped neatly over a puddle of mermaid’s tears and kept walking next to Nick. “Oh, I almost forgot! Here’s a note. Draco gave it to me.” She handed it to him.

Dear Nick—Dreadfully sorry about leaving you behind, but it was necessary, as I’m sure you can see. I always appreciate the fics with the insanely intricate plots, you know. I do hope you realize it. There’s a bit of a problem with them, though. They do get to be rather long, and because so much space does need to be taken up by the plot and related trimmings, there’s only so much left over for me to have endless hours of pantingly hot sex with Ginny. I’m a seventeen-year-old boy—what do you want? Also, well… I’m beginning to suspect that I can be fairly certain that it’s possible to believe that I may be able to theorize that I think… I love her. I know, I know; ten thousand generations of Malfoy ancestors are revolving in their graves like Rock Cornish Game Hens on rotisserie spits. But if I can’t tell the Prince of Darkness about it, really, who can I tell? Anyway, must dash—Ginny’s got that look in her eye and those nipple clamps in her hand, and she’s coming for me! Ciao, D.

Nick crumpled up the note in his hand and sighed. “That little devil! So to speak. All right, Delirium. I guess it’s just you and me.” And so they skipped off into the sunset, splashing through puddles, hand in hand, singing "Oo-De-Lally, Oo-De-Lally, Golly, What a Day", from Disney’s Robin Hood.

Well… what can I say? At least this fic managed to end on a G-rated note.

== really, truly, absolutely and finally, THE END!!!===

Here's the link to a video of "Oo-De-Lally: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wyfYcE8g59Y

Some of Draco and Ginny’s conversation on the heart-shaped bed really is adapted from this: http://www.folklore.ms/html/books_and_MSS/1870s/1879-1880_the_pearl_journal/issue_12_-_june_1880/index.htm
The next time somebody starts talking about how TERRIBLE porn is these days, and it’s ALL the internet’s fault, and there was NO SUCH THING back in the good old days… nothing has ever surpassed The Pearl for sheer NC-17-ness, in the opinions of many, and it was written over 100 years ago. There has never been NC-17 writing that’s measured up to what the Victorians churned out in either quantity or quality (which doesn’t necessarily mean a lot of it was good, but they did believe in the details!)
Here’s that list of euphemisms: http://www.starma.com/penis/richardkitty/richardkitty.html


A/N: If you’re wondering where the normal NC-17 content is… because it’s been a looooong time since I wrote anything that wasn’t NC-17… well… (Anise opens a package of triple chocolate cookies with chocolate chips and chocolate frosting. There’s chocolate sauce to dip them in, too. Mm.) I think there might be an NC-17 D/G cookie coming up from this fic at some point after MoM is all done. It’s possible. What do y’all think?

And look at what category this fic is in now! COMPLETED!! MWAH HAHAHAH!! Oops... they're just about to catch up to me with that straightjacket. Bye now! (Anise takes off running.)