Arrmaitee and Daylyn
Prologue: Lord Voldemort was dead. The Wizarding World was saved. And in her infinite wisdom, J.K. killed off Ginny and Tonks in the seventh book and offered Snape a reprieve. So the slash fandom was quite content overall.
But I wasn't. My life was dreadfully empty. I lacked meaning… a purpose… a reason to live. How could I, The Chosen One, have peaked at a ripe age of eighteen? Had my destiny already been fulfilled? Was I a one-trick pony, doomed to obscurity and convention circuits now that I had done my duty?
Bloody hell, how could my life be over already? I hadn’t even had sex yet!
With a fresh sense of determination to cure that pesky problem, I stormed the Gryffindor locker room, looking for a man to take my virginity. I was shocked by what I saw. Men, many men, lots and lots of naked men, basking in the large, communal shower: Ron, Wood, Fred, George, Remus, Hagrid, Justin, Ernie, Arthur, Draco, Snape, Dobby, Lucius, Filch, Flitwick. My throat went dry as I evaluated the eligible candidates before me.
Why were they all here? Had they been waiting for me? Or were there always kinky things happening in the Gryffindor locker room and no one had ever bothered to tell me? Damn, sometimes I really hated being The Boy Who Lived and was Completely Oblivious All the Time.
They watched me intently, focused on my every move, devouring my body with their eyes as they waited for me to make my selection. Draco licked his lips. Snape flexed his muscles. Dobby dropped his bar of soap. They all stared at me with a predatory hunger, eager for a chance to claim my juicy cherry.
And it was in that instant that I realized that I had an asset far more magnificent and powerful than any store-bought wand. It was my unplucked arse! With a toss of my hair, I sauntered out of the facility, leaving them drowning in the quagmire of their denied desire.
I admired my asset in a full-length mirror that night. I had perfect, symmetrical, succulent cheeks and a nice tempting crack. I decided to create an outfit to showcase my delicate blossom. I used petal pink latex, which molded to accentuate every inch of my remarkable booty. I complemented the outfit with contacts instead of my clunky glasses, a flowing black silk cape that conveniently cut-off at my waistline, and a hot pink "P.P." embroidered on my upper-chest.
Finally, I painted fuchsia glitter all over my scar to make it less identifiable. When I looked in the mirror, I realized that the Pink Protector had been born!
I headed out, knowing that I needed to test the parameters of my new-found super booty powers. My first task as the Pink Protector was to save an old witch who was being robbed by two evil wizards in Knockturn Alley.
"Stop that at once!" I exclaimed, leaping in front of them and arching my juicy arse into full view. "I command you to let that woman go!"
The evil wizards looked at me peculiarly, and then one whispered to the other, "Is that Harry P-p-p-potter?" They both began laughing hysterically. I started to jiggle my virginal cheeks so that the evil men would focus on my very appealing buttocks and the poor old woman could escape.
My plan proved partially successful. The first wizard laughed so hard that he had a heart attack and died. Then the second immediately died of a brain aneurism. My only miscalculation was that my powers were so overwhelming that they killed the old women as well. However, justice had been served. All was right in the wizarding world.
And so, from that night forward, I lived a double life: Harry Potter the esteemed Auror by day, and the Pink Protector by night. And no one… absolutely no one… knew my secret identity.
Misadventure 1: The Biggest One I Ever Saw!
"Hi Harry… I mean Pink Protector," Hermione said, grimacing at my smashing attire.
"Hermione, I need your help," I said authoritatively.
Hermione stifled a sigh. "I would do anything to help the Pink Protector," she said. She gestured to Molly Weasley, who was aiming an animal tranquilizer gun at me. I arched my booty in her direction. She burst out laughing and dropped the gun. Hermione looked frustrated.
"Hermione," I said.
"Yes, Pink Protector.”
"I have just been informed from my super secret source of my most important mission yet."
"Oh for heaven's sake, Harry. I mean… Pink Protector. I would be happy to help you fight crime, but do you have to traipse around in that ridiculous outfit?"
"The Pink Protector's outfit is not ridiculous," I replied curtly. "It's sensational. Why do you think there are all those Pink Protector sightings in the Quibbler Report?"
Hermione shuddered. "All right. What d'you need me to do, Pinky?"
"There were three murders at the Hog's End, a gay bathhouse in Hogsmeade. The only thing these murders have in common is that the victims screamed the words 'The Biggest One I Ever Saw!' before dying a brutal death. This is surely a job for the Pink Protector!"
I arched my arse for extra emphasis. Hermione looked green.
"Do you think the killer showed them a knife before they died?" Hermione asked, looking away. "Perhaps they are describing a really large weapon."
"Nonsense, we all know what it means," I replied.
"The Biggest One I Ever Saw is a classic pre-condom Muggle gay porn film from the 1980s," Ron added, strolling into the room. "It refers to the size of the male endowment."
"Since when do you know so much about gay porn, Ron?" Hermione asked, concerned. Mrs. Weasley fainted. Ron cast Hermione a scathing look.
"This is the perfect job for the Pink Protector!" I announced again.
"Harry, if you say that one more time I am going to have to slap you," Hermione said.
"Harry?" I asked, feigning confusion.
Hermione rolled her eyes and gestured to Ron to pick up the gun. "I'm sorry, Mr. Pink Protector, sir. You're just so captivating that you remind me of my best friend Harry who I only see in the daytime now. I wonder why?"
"I wouldn't know," I replied deviously. "Maybe he has a secret life." I decided that it was far better to state the obvious so that she would think I was lying. She would then spend years trying to find out what, other than having a secret life, I was doing in the evenings.
Ron reached down and picked up the tranquilizer gun and aimed it at me unsteadily. With my superpower speed, I began kneading my cheeks in a throbbing fashion so that he would be distracted by the moving target and miss. Ron started laughing so hysterically that he accidentally shot himself with the tranquilizer gun and collapsed to the ground unconscious.
I left without saying another word. As I walked out the door, I heard Hermione firecalling St. Mungo's to temporarily cancel my overnight reservation.
The next day, I was working in my corner office at the Ministry of Magic when Ron came to visit me.
"Hi, Harry," Ron said.
"Oh, hello Ron," I replied.
Ron started giving me a back massage. I tensed up.
"Umm… Ron, what're you doing?"
"Oh, you look so tense, Harry. I thought I should help alleviate some of your… er… intensity."
"What?" I asked confused and slightly annoyed.
"Harry, am I still your best mate?" Ron asked.
This sounded like a trick question. I eyed him suspiciously. "Yes," I finally replied.
Ron started unbuttoning his fly. "Would you like to take our friendship to the next level?"
"Ron, for the hundredth time - you can't deflower me. Did Hermione put you up to this… again?"
"It would be good for your mental health, Harry," Ron pled. "Trust me, I was far more stable after I got gangbanged by Malfoy, Wood, and McLaggen at the Quidditch World Cup.”
"WHAT?" I screeched.
"Oh, never mind," Ron said.
That night, I entered the Hog's End in my full Pink Protector attire. I surveyed the main entrance. There was a lounge area decorated with modern art. I sat on a plush couch next to a few large plants and waited for my admittance. Fifteen minutes passed. Finally, a man approached me, brandishing a large towel.
"Welcome, Mr. Protector," the host said, handing me the towel. He looked familiar.
"Neville?" I asked, surprised. "Since when are you working here?"
"Since I graduated from Hogwarts," Neville said.
I took the towel and walked through the locker room and over to the communal sauna. There were several familiar faces with their equipment on display.
Percy – 6 inches
Ron – 7 inches
Snape – 9 inches
Fred - 8 inches
George - 8 inches
Wood – 6½ inches
Remus – 7 inches
Seamus – 5½ inches
Dobby – 10 inches
Flitwick – 2 inches
Draco – 7½ inches
Dean – 11 inches
Hagrid – 35 inches
I surveyed the buffet before me, my eyes finally resting on Hagrid. He winked at me. I knew he had to be the killer. But there was only one way to find out.
I sashayed my perfect cheeks in front of him and lured him into a private booth. He followed eagerly. I watched the half-giant as he approached me, his enormous shaft now fully erect.
"What'er yeh waitin' fer?" he asked, confused.
"Don't you want me to comment on the size of your equipment?" I asked, pretending to be an innocent moth lured to the burning flame.
"Suck it, 'arry," he replied.
He grabbed my head and pulled it towards his massive slab of beef. I was just about turn around and use the superpowers of my bouncing booty to distract him when I heard Seamus exclaim:
"That's the biggest one I ever saw! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
"Sorry – wrong guy," I said, dashing out of the room and running toward the scream. But I arrived too late. Seamus had already been hacked to pieces.
The next day, I was busy working in my corner office at the Ministry of Magic when Ron came to visit me… again.
"Hello, Ron," I said.
"Hi, Harry. Er… d'you have plans for dinner?"
"It's 9 AM," I replied.
"Right, but it's never too early to make plans with your best mate, right, Harry?"
"I would love to, Ron," I lied. "But unfortunately I already have plans for this evening."
"What about tomorrow night?"
"I have plans."
"Nope. More plans."
"How about on Friday?"
"Ron, I'm a very busy guy."
"I know you are, Harry," Ron said. "I'm used to being your second-rate friend."
"Ron, you know that's not true."
"Then you’ll come to dinner tonight? Hermione's making pasta."
That manipulative bastard!
That night I sat at Hermione and Ron's dinner table, planning my escape.
"So how's work, Harry?" Hermione asked, twirling her spaghetti around her fork.
"It's fine," I replied. "I'm so glad you invited me for dinner." My eyes darted around, wondering how I could get out of there.
“You’re so busy these days, Harry,” Hermione said. “We never get to see you. So, just what have you been doing recently… at night?”
I shoveled a large forkful of pasta in my mouth and pretended to choke. Once these silly, interfering fools left the room to firecall an ambulance, I could escape.
"Oh my god, Harry's choking," Ron screeched. Ron threw me over the edge of a chair and tried to give me the Heimlich maneuver.
"Oww, stop. Stop it. I'm fine… now that you almost broke my ribs," I said, glaring at him.
There were several moments of uncomfortable silence, and then Hermione went into the kitchen and brought out dessert. I scanned the room, looking again for an exit.
"Er… where's the loo?" I asked.
"It's on the third floor," Ron replied.
"You mean you don't have one on the ground floor with a large window that opens easily from the inside?" I asked, shocked.
Ron shook his head. Hermione was studying me carefully. I knew what I had to do.
"Oww, my scar! I need to go home and take an Advil!" I screamed.
"Harry, Voldemort's dead,” she said. “You already killed him, remember?"
"You mean he's back?" I said, feigning panic.
"He's back?" Ron shrieked. Hermione gave Ron an 'of course, he's not back, you idiot' look, but by the time she turned toward me again, I was already gone.
I soon arrived at the Hog's End in my full Pink Protector attire, having worn it underneath my wizarding robes while at dinner. I decided to sneak in through the back entrance, hoping to catch the killer off guard.
After entering the facility discreetly, I crept through the back corridor, looking for anything suspicious. There were several occupied rooms, and the sounds of anonymous sex could be heard echoing through the hall.
"Yes, fuck me. Fuck me!" I heard a familiar voice scream. I peeked into the room and saw Arthur Weasley taking Lucius Malfoy doggy-style.
I quickly closed the door and peered into another room, where I saw Hagrid, Dean and Flitwick intertwined.
I shuddered and quickly backed into an empty room. I scanned the room looking for clues. I noticed the modern artwork on the wall, the checkered carpeting, and a large green plant. Nothing appeared out of place. I sighed in frustration and clenched my super tight buttocks.
"Hello, Mr. Protector," Neville said, stepping into the room. He was carrying a watering can and headed toward the plant.
I nodded in his direction. "That's a beautiful plant," I said, making conversation.
"Do you like it?" he replied. "It's Bahamian Bonsai."
"Bonsai?" I said, confused. I looked back at the giant four foot plant. "That's the biggest one I ever saw!”
“Uh oh," I muttered.
Suddenly, the plant pulled back it's foliage to reveal six rows of razor sharp teeth. It lunged towards my juicy booty, but I snatched my arse away just before it became dinner. The plant leapt toward me again – I hurled myself backward, knocking Neville to the ground. He clasped his arms around me so that I couldn't escape.
"Don't worry, Harry," Neville said. "Sheila will be gentle."
The plant opened its razor-sharp jaws and lunged at me again.
"My name is not Harry," I spat, grinding my juicy cheeks into his pulsing staff of life. Neville gasped in shock from the sublime feel of my luscious bum, and I was able to break free before my rump became a filet.
"Stop it right now!" Hermione shrieked, dashing into the room. Ron ran alongside her. And while I should have been annoyed that they were obviously following me, I had to admit, privately of course, that I was actually quite happy to see them.
"Neville, what the hell d'you think you're doing?" Ron gasped.
"Sheila's hungry," Neville said matter-of-factly.
The plant lunged toward Ron.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" Hermione screeched, pointing her wand at the plant.
"NOOOOOOOOOOO!" Neville shouted, as he leapt in front of Sheila. There was a blinding flash of green light. Neville slumped over, dead. Hermione dropped her wand and fell to the floor, mortified. Sheila licked her lips and lunged toward Hermione.
"Oh Sheila," I called out, using wandless magic to transfigure Neville's corpse into a tasty béarnaise sauce and spreading it all over my precious arse. "Come and get it!"
The plant lunged toward me. I backed into a corner and gave Ron a pleading look. Ron tried pulling on the plant's stem, but it slapped him away. Sheila licked her lips and opened her jaws wide.
Suddenly, Fawkes flew into the room carrying the Sorting Hat.
"What the fuck?" Ron asked.
I reached into the hat to pull out the Gryffindor sword, thinking to make mincemeat of the carnivorous plant before me. Instead my fingers clutched around the Helga Hufflepuff Dildo of Doom – a 12-inch yellow and black dildo with an explosive badger head.
While I was playing with the hat, Sheila ate Fawkes. She then turned back toward me.
"Eat this, bitch," I said, activating the explosive badger head and tossing the Dildo of Doom into her gaping maw.
Plant matter was splattered everywhere, soiling my smashing pink outfit. Fortunately, I knew a discreet dry cleaner who wouldn't ask any questions.
Three weeks later, I arrived at St. Mungo’s. The healer led me to a private back room on the fourth floor.
"Hello Hermione," I said, putting some pink carnations in a nearby vase.
Hermione did not respond.
I jiggled my sacred cheeks to get her attention.
She still did not respond.
I leaned in and whispered. "Hermione, I need your help. According to my super secret source, I just received the Pink Protector's most important mission yet…"
I fell to the floor, with Hermione's hands clasped snugly around my neck. Sirens went off and medical staff immediately rushed into the room, pried her off of me, and gave her a major sedative potion.
"We will speak again soon," I promised, and I gave my cheeks one final swoosh before exiting the room.
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