Unleashed Desire

Colors of red and gold surrounded Hermione. A massive sound of cheering roared in her ears. Before her very eyes, young men and women soared by on broomsticks, some bearing colors of that which were upon her own scarf laced around her neck, and others of green and black. Though, Hermione seemed to only care about one particular wizard playing Quidditch.

Her eyes had been set upon the ever-so skilled Seeker, Harry Potter, for the entire game. With every dive he took she let out a gasp; for every near miss of a bludger she screamed.

She, at the moment, was admiring how his hair moves when the wind gusts softly around him. His eyes moved briskly around the stadium searching for the miniscule golden Snitch. Though, something else caught his eye, a, rather, other snitch: Hermione. He winked at her as she stared, dazed, back at him.

"Want to get out of here?" he mouthed to her.

"What!?" she said silently to Harry.

Harry, forgetting all about the game he was playing, flew over to the stands, where Hermione sat, stunned. Many students turned to stare. Some of those whom had been previously cheering grew quiet, though many paid no attention. Two of the players sent gestures of confusion and frustration at Harry's sudden absence.

"Hermione," he said when he reached her, paying no attention to any of the commotion he had caused. "Let's go, I'm finding this game quite a bore!"

"Harry, we can't leave!" she squealed. "You're the Seeker, they'll loose without you! Besides, it's against the rules!"

"Stop being such a goody-good! I don't really give a shit if we loose or not, I need a shag!"

Hermione's cheeks turned pink and she looked around the stadium at the other giggling students, who were ease-dropping on their loud conversation.

"Are you never horny?" she scolded in a slight whisper. "Sex is all you seem to think about!"

"Well, of course!" he said, looking confused of how that could be wrong. "Let's just go! I'm sick of talking!"

With that he grasped her slender upper arm firmly, and in one clean swoop, he tossed her onto his broomstick. Once Hermione was completely situated, the broomstick launched into the air and flew over the cheering crowd and the intense game.

Hermione's hands were clutched around Harry's waist. She felt his muscles through his Quidditch robes. She pressed her face to Harry's neck. He smelt of... well, he actually really stunk; it was so bad she began to cough wildly, and uncontrollably.

"Dear God!" she choked, while waving her arm madly.

Harry paid no attention and continued to focus on his flying. He began to descend when he was just outside of the stadium.

"Um, Harry, where are we going?"

"You'll see."

"Oh, ok..." She was quiet for a moment. "This Firebolt sure flies smooth!"

"Yea."

There was a silence.

"Um, Harry..."

"Hermione, don't talk! We're here."

He landed at a small area just behind the stadium. It was very secluded, not many could possibly even know it existed. This area was small, and covered in deep green grass, with several trees giving it shade.

"Where are we?"

"Oh, no where special. I just saw this the other day when we were practicing for Quidditch, it looked kind of nice, though we'd try it out, you know."

He tore off his Quidditch robes, exposing his beautiful body to Hermione, whose eyes lit up.

"Right, um, let's shag!" he exclaimed.

"Oh let's!" Hermione said, beaming with delight.

He walked up to her and threw his arms around her. She smiled at the feeling of Harry's touch. He leaned into her, inching his pink lips towards hers. Though, suddenly a third party's hand tore the two apart.

"You two again!" said the cruel voice of Draco Malfoy. "I thought I told you, Mudblood, that Harry is mine!"

He placed his arm around Harry's shoulder protectively.

"Draco! Harry asked me to come here! Not you!" she whined.

"Did you do that Harry?" he asked him as if he were a child.

Harry nodded, chewing his lip, a bit ashamed.

"Well, that might require some punishment." He looked at Harry, whose eyes widened with the thought. "But, no matter."

"Draco, I didn't even get to shag Harry!" Hermione continued to complain.

"Go away, Mudblood! We wish to be alone!"

"Draco! I didn't even get to snog him!" she cried.

Draco and Harry, by now were in an intense snog, completely ignoring the blubbering Hermione.

Draco managed to lift up his hand, and flick his wrist toward Hermione for her dismissal.

The bright light, once again, blinded her. And, as before, she covered her eyes to shield them from the brightness.

When her eyes opened she was in her bed, and not with Harry or Draco.

"That dick!" she screamed.

****

Ron's eyes suddenly opened. He sat up gasping for breath. His heart pounded wildly, creating a harsh feeling of pain in his chest. His eyes darted around the room, attempting to grasp where exactly he was. He recognized his dorm room; everything was the same as usual.

His breath slowed, and he leaned back to his pillow, though still partly sitting up, in a rather relaxed pose. His eyes rolled up to the ceiling and he began to reminisce is peculiar dream.

He had dreamt that Harry, once again, had to "save the world" from Lord Voldermort. He always despised how Harry would constantly be the one praised for being such an astounding "hero". Truthfully Ron had no idea how Harry was able to be so great. When he wasn't saving the world and such, he was just a regular guy, who screws up just as much as everyone else, possibly more so than most.

And so it bothered him that his best friend was capable of being amazing at Quidditch, saving all the wizards and witches from Voldermort, and still had enough remaining time to get the girl (Ron saw how Hermione gazed at him with affection every time he victorious at anything).

So this time, in his dream, Ron decided he would step in, he would save the day. And this he did just before Harry was to kill the dark lord by... well, oddly enough he hadn't seen how he was going to kill him. Anyways, Ron ran at Voldermort before Harry could even begin. Though, suddenly he heard an Unforgivable curse, the curse that is irreversible, the curse that cannot be blocked, the curse of Avada Kedavra, the curse of death.

That's where the dream had ceased to be; he woke up before he could feel the cold pain of death.

While he sat on the bed, depicting the meaning of his peculiar dream in his well... dense head, he felt a movement from the adjacent end of where he sat. As though an earthquake had occurred, a figure, which until now had remained dormant, lifted itself to face Ron.

"Ron?" whispered the tired voice of Lavender Brown.

Ron had forgotten all about last night. He had forgotten how he had allowed Lavender to jump him four days ago. He couldn't recollect how he had been shagging the slut for every night since. And he most certainly had disregarded how he had fucked her for the entire previous night.

"Fuck!" Ron shouted aloud, which he had not intended on doing.

"Ron, what? What's wrong?" she said as she quickly sat up, with a false expression of concern.

And in doing this action she allowed Ron to see her appearance, which was absolutely repulsive. Ron's blue eyes became lost in the mass of wrinkling skin surrounding them.

The hair, in which persistently is brushed to perfection with not a strand, or curl out of order, was in a gigantic mass of knots, which formed into an uneven afro, sticking up higher on one side than the other. Her face was bare, except a few smudges of makeup here and there, exposing her rather ugly features. Including the gray circles which rested below her eyes, and the gathering of mountainous pimples across her cheeks and forehead.

"What!" she exclaimed. "Why are you looking at me that way?"

"Oh, uh, sorry, you're just extremely ugl-er-beautiful in the morning."

Her nasty features formed into a beam.

"You think so," she squeaked, while shaking her head about (attempting to make her hair toss elegantly), although the huge forest of knots was reluctant to move a single millimeter.

Ron choked back his laughter. "Um, yea of course, beautiful, right."

Ron, whom had been forced to gaze at Lavender's ghastly morning-features, was growing increasingly more repulsed by her. "Um, can you leave? Like right now?"

Lavender's face crumpled. "Why?" she whimpered. "Is it that I'm bothering you, 'cause I'll leave right now! And you wont have to gaze at OR shag me ever again," she said getting more and more angry with each word she stated.

"Oh, no, Lavender that's not why!" Ron cut in, because of the horrible threat of being deprived of sex once more. Though, he wasn't sure of a good lie to tell Lavender on why he wished her to leave.

He stared at her blankly, while scanning dozens of possible excuses in his head.

"It's, um... Well there's a Quidditch game today. And uh.... I need to get ready."

Her head tilted. "Um, Ron isn't the game at nine?"

"Yes, so that's why you must go!" He leaped out of the bed and began to gather her clothes that were scattered about his room.

She too got out of bed, yet shielded her naked body with a sheet from Ron, whom had already seen all of her numerous amounts of times this entire week. Ron hurled the robes to Lavender, who quickly put each piece on as it was thrown to her.

Ron then placed his hands on Lavender's boney shoulders and pushed her to the door.

"But wait a minute Ron!" screeched Lavender as she was unwillingly driven towards the door. "Isn't it still dark!" He opened the door to the hallway and shoved her out. "The game doesn't start for hours!"

Ron gave a slight wave and then turned around while thrusting his door with his free hand as he walked away.

"RON!" Boom. The door shut in her face.

Ron relieved himself of a long waited sigh, and returned to his bed. Where he placed himself beneath the warmth of the covers and revisited his dream world.

*****

Hours later during the Quidditch game...

The wind blew at a steady pace, yet still made it difficult to remain upon the broom, with certain gusts throwing the balance of several players.

The Quidditch teams of Gryffindor and Slytherin glared at one another, preparing for the game to launch. High-pitched screams and cheers surrounded their ears.

Harry Potter was amongst the team, as was his ex-nemesis and present lover, Draco Malfoy. These two were the only players whom were not sharing stares of, well, death (wishing, not actual killing with stares). Instead, they were rather engrossed in one another's magnificent bodies.

Harry's shapely lips were separated, and had been this way since he had gazed upon Draco in his Quidditch robes. Quidditch was a major turn-on for Harry, in fact just a few days ago he and Draco had well....

And so, as Harry reminisced on that particular time they had spent together he began to realize a certain...um... someone was waking up. He tried to shoot down his impure thoughts by imaging Hermione naked. At the sight of her skinny female body in his mind, he immediately calmed himself down.

Across from the excited Harry, was the smirking face of Draco Malfoy. Draco, whom was a much better actor than our hero, remained calm, and cool, as he always was. Though, he couldn't help but continually sneak peeks into the emerald eyes of Harry, they were so incredibly enchanting, his own eyes could barely be diverted from their glow.

When Harry's cock had risen, he couldn't help but giggle the slightest bit, though he quickly choked his laughter back, he didn't wish people to realize he had been staring at Potter's cock so intently.

The game had begun, though Harry barely took notice. Oddly enough, his Firebolt was soaring through the air and began to follow the Snitch, although Harry had no inkling that this was even happening. His mind was focused on Draco. His eyes were gazing onto Draco's fine arse, which was leaned farther than typical and... was Draco wearing smaller, tighter pants?

Harry's tongue moistened his lips.

Draco, whom actually was attempting to play the game, turned his head back at the gaping Harry. He smirked and yelled, "Are you going to come right here, Potter?" He added on the "Potter" just incase anyone was listening.

Harry's cheeks became hot. He attempted to move his head about as though he was looking for the Snitch.

Draco saw this and began to chuckle. "It's right in front of you, darling." Suddenly, Draco realized what he had just said. His eyes widened, yet quickly narrowed, his lips clenched together tightly, and he took off after the Snitch.

Harry, whom was completely clueless to all that was happening, lifted his hand to scratch his head. And it was in this action that the diminutive golden Snitch flew right into his very hand.

Draco's face crumpled into an envious glare. Harry's expression was that of massive shock, and a bit of confusion.

The, until now drowned, voice of Seamus filled the stadium with: "AND HARRY POTTER HAS CAUGHT THE GOLDEN-SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WINS!"