Teachers' Pet

by

Herman Tumbleweed

Disclaimer: I own a ten year old pickup, a six year old computer, and half interest in a partially paid for male alpaca. If I owned Harry Potter would any of those things be true? As always, this is a mature story written for a mature audience and contains references to adult situations of a sexual nature. Turn back oh ye of faint heart, or lack of properly sufficient years.

And now we return you to your regularly scheduled shenanigans:

"Mr Potter, please be seated beside the desk here. We are going to have a conference on your behaviour of late..." Her voice faded from Harry's conscious hearing because Miss Granger was rather intimidating, in an very alluring way, with her skirt short enough to be considered a belt in many cultures. That coupled with her low cut blouse unbuttoned to show bits of lace when she bent over the least little bit (and that was ignoring the impressive cleavage - an impossible feat), the very stylish half glasses she wore which set off her roundish face, and with her hair pulled back into a loose bun exposing her lovely long neck, made him become rather short of breath.

Harry couldn't concentrate at all as Miss Granger continued on about his recent, according to her, bad behaviour as he was too caught up in the fantasiesof how he'd like to do so many different things to the body standing behind the desk, said body being barely covered by the various bits of clothing. Actually, in the proper proportions, the clothing would have been rather severe in taste; it did not, however, come even close to presenting that image, quite the opposite in fact. He didn't know what his friend was up to, but he wasn't going to argue with her methods.

When he finally tuned back into the semi-serious harangue he heard, "Now, Mr Potter, I have brought in some other students and two of my colleagues who will be assisting me with your punishment. I do hope you will learn your lesson from this. I would love," she cleared her throat, a bit over-dramatically Harry thought, "or rather hate, to have to repeat this next weekend."

No sooner did she finish speaking than Padma Patil and Su Li walked in, dressed similarly to, if a little more skimpily than, Hermione. What those outfits did for the two Asian women made Harry's little ol' heart do flip-flops, and gave rise to a tent in his trousers - rather, that should be ...further rise... or perhaps …painful further rise...

Miss Granger intoned, "I'm sure you know my two colleagues, Miss Patil and Miss Li, both of whom have also observed your naughty behaviour over the past few weeks and consulted with me so we might all mete out suitable punishment at the same time."

Though Harry had recently had brief encounters, including a bit of snogging, with all three girls, it sounded like they had more than that in mind. He wasn't about to start complaining. If they considered this punishment, he'd beg to be tortured by them.

The door opened again as Miss Granger further stated, "The students selected to monitor and ensure that your punishment is of the desired calibre are Miss Davis, Miss Abbot, Miss Bones, Miss Lovegood, and Miss Greengrass. The eight of us shall be keeping you in detention here in the Room of Requirement the entire weekend, from dinner this fine Friday evening, which Dobby has graciously consented to serve to us all shortly and privately, until you are released in time for us all to be seen at breakfast Monday morning. Each of us teachers and female students shall take a turn or two being seen about the castle at times so as to allay suspicion, and I shall pass off a story that you do not wish to be disturbed while you brood over how badly life has treated you. By Monday morning, we hope to have disabused you of that notion, Mr Potter, as well as to give you good reason to give up on the temper you have displayed frequently of late."

Harry was dumbstruck. When the five "student assistants" walked in, their "schoolgirl" outfits made the "professor's" outfits look positively demure by comparison. It was more than obvious that none of them was wearing a bra, and when Luna dropped her wand and turned to pick it up, Harry had no doubt she was not wearing knickers either, not even a thong... her bare... everything was conclusive evidence to that. He had to wonder if any of the other women had knickers on. Being an upstanding, red-blooded, brave British boy, he passed out from lack of blood to his brain and an overload of hormones in his system.

When he came to, Harry was lying on a couch with the women all looking at him with varying degrees of obviously mock sternness; their eyes were all dancing with mirth. Miss Patil said, sounding as strict as one can while stifling a grin, "Mr Potter, we will find it difficult to administer your punishments," she was almost smirking as she bent over to shake her finger in his face, exposing most of her lace covered breasts, "if you keep passing out on us. We ask that should you feel faint at any point from now on you please let us know so we may administer the appropriate potion stimulant to aid you in maintaining consciousness."

Harry nodded, then muttered, "This has gotta be the greatest wet dream in history, or I've died and gone to heaven."

To the accompaniment of a round of giggles from the rest, Miss Li informed him with a rather lecherous grin, "Mr Potter, I assure you that you are neither dreaming nor are you dead. You are in fact very much alive, and we are going to ensure that, by the time you leave here Monday morning, you know just how alive you are... and, naturally, how alive we all are as well."

At that several of the girls kissed each other, hands roaming over scantily covered bodies, and Miss Granger asked, "Mr Potter, do you feel up to standing now?" When he nodded, she instructed, "Then please come with me over to my desk, I want to show you some things you will need to know."

When Harry sat up, then stood to follow, Hermione bent over the front of the desk to retrieve something from the knee hole drawer on the other side of it causing the higher functions of his brain shut down. The skirt she was wearing rode up exposing her exquisite bum and revealing that she too was knicker-less and sporting a very lovely, and apparently shaved... everything." He barely noticed the wand wave from Padma that left him devoid of either trousers or pants, not that he minded, as he took the very broad hint and snuggled up to the highly appealing bum in front of him.

-----

Monday morning, after two double shots of Pepperup Potion, and a minor numbing charm on his nether regions, Harry Potter staggered somewhat bow-legged into the Great Hall for breakfast. He plunked himself, gingerly, down between Ron and Neville, across from Hermione, and, surprisingly, Su Li and Susan Bones. The three women all smiled warmly at him, though Ron and Neville didn't seem to notice.

Ever the tactless wonder, Ron asked, "So Harry, where ya been all weekend? Hermione told me," as he stuffed half a croissant in his mouth so the rest was muffled, "tha' 'ou 'ere sul'ing, or," he swallowed the half chewed roll, "something like that and didn't want to be bothered. Why the hell," he stuffed the second half croissant in, along with a rasher of bacon and went on, "dint oo um 'lay iddit id us? 'at ooda 'ixed ya right up. You know that." He'd again swallowed half chewed food which slightly cleared up his speech for the final comment.

From Harry's other side, Neville told Ron, "You daft git, not every problem in the world is solved with a game of Quidditch or chess. Maybe Harry had someone he wanted to talk to or some stuff to think over. Hermione was right, you have the emotional depth of a tea set sugar spoon."

"Actually, Neville, I believe I told him teaspoon, but you may be right," Hermione smiled at him, then glowered at Ron and continued. "Those spoons are much smaller than the standard teaspoon. Ronald, why don't you for once in your life just keep your gob shut so you don't make a complete arse out of yourself."

Neville smirked smugly, while Ron proceeded to choke on the three rashers of bacon and large spoonful of eggs he'd just stuffed into his mouth. A wave of Su Li's wand cleared his throat, but still left him with a mouthful he could not talk around and a very red face. He was chewing for all he was worth but didn't seem to make any progress.

Meanwhile Harry had calmly put a few things on his plate and was munching on some bacon while selecting some nice melon and strawberries from the fruit dish. Everything looked scrumptious this morning. He had no complaints, the world was a very good place, and for once it didn't matter to him what anyone, especially Ron the Moron, thought or said about him, (except eight very lovely young ladies, of course).

Life was good, and with no Quidditch games or Hogsmeade trips in the next few weeks Harry was fairly sure where he'd be spending his weekends. He'd need to appear a little depressed and short tempered again on Thursday and Friday which would be hard, er, difficult. He'd manage somehow; it was a very good cover after all. However, this morning he could hardly get the smile off his face long enough to chew something, and that wasn't likely to change for several days to be sure.

Finis

I've no idea just where this little ditty came from, been reading too many multi-ship stories lately I guess. At any rate, thanks to Mike and my better half, Vonnie, for the beta work.