The Groundskeeper Pounds Deeper ((UnHolyPimpHand & whisperwish19))

[UnHolyPimpHand]

https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/harrypotter/images/5/59/Forbidden_Forest.png/revision/latest/top-crop/width/360/height/450?cb=20130819184917​

Nights in the Forbidden Forest were always ominous. The distant howls of werewolves, the scream-like braying of thestrals, the echoing moans of unsettled ghosts—it was a hard place to feel at ease, but nonetheless, the small, uninsulated cabin at the forest’s edge was Rubeus Hagrid’s home. It was already after dark when he returned from campus. The upcoming Autumnal Ball had added a lot to his already extensive chore list—extra candles that needed levitating, clearing one type of tables and bringing in other types of tables, hanging streamers that he’d eventually have to clean up from the floor.

Hagrid hated feeding the thestrals after dark. They were ominous in the best of times and when they were hungry they could be dangerous. The warm glow of his lantern was a welcome sight, even with the slate of work still ahead of him. As he grew closer, Hagrid recognized the frail shape of a student.

It was Neville Longbottom, Hagrid released an irritated sigh, his mind conjuring the sound of a thestral beak clacking shut.

“Well, if it in’t Mister Longbo’um,” Hagrid forced a smile, summoning his most reassuring ochre tone, “what seems to be the trouble?”

The groundskeeper position alone was enough to keep Hagrid busy day and night, but in addition to his assigned duties, Hagrid had come to be something of an ad hoc guidance counselor for the students who were less gifted than others at adapting to life apart from their families. Neville was just one of several in his year who made a habit of showing up uninvited at his already overcrowded cabin.

The presence of another besides Hagrid was enough to fright Fang into the dusty crawlspace that ran under the house. Hard as it was to imagine frail, insecure Neville frightening a three-hundred-pound mutt like Fang—such was the case.

“It’s alright there, boy,” Hagrid knelt, yielding an open palm to where Fang was cowering under the house, “you know Neville, he nev’r meant us no harm.”

Fang crept out from under the house with his tail tucked and his ears down, whining until Hagrid’s large hand encompassed the hound’s head and scratched him behind the ears. Fang rushed to press up against the giant’s side, large tail wagging furiously. Fang had loosened some of the porch boards in his leap from concealment. Another task that would require Hagrid’s attention in the morning.

“Come along in, Mister Longbo’um. I’ll lay the ke’el on,” Hagrid smiled, despite the agony in his knees as he rose back to his feet, it had been a long day already.

“S-s-so sorry to bother you, Mr. Hagrid. I-I-I didn’t mean to fright your hound,” Neville sniveled, climbing the steps after Hagrid and entering the small cabin.

“Oh, don’t spare a second thought to ol’ Fang. He’s just a big ol’ scardy mutt,” Hagrid patted Fang on the head who eagerly went over to his food bowl and sat—another neglected, hungry mouth, “what can I do fer you, young Neville?”

Once the kettle was on the burner, Hagrid fished out a jar of some sort of pickled offal—the kind of slop that made a good dinner for Fang. The meat reeked as soon as Hagrid flipped open the latch on the glass jar, and smelled worse as it slopped into Fang’s bowl. The hound drooled until its’ saliva was splattering on the floor, still waiting for permission. Hagrid clicked his tongue once and the hound lunged on the meat, slurping loudly on the foul-smelling, butcher’s scraps.

“W-w-well you see… there’s this girl…”

*-*-*

The fire crackled and blazed in the Gryffindor common room as Harry and Ron discussed their own preparations for the upcoming ball. Ron had laid out his hand-me-down suit while Harry was busy ironing the wrinkles out of his dress shirt.

“I hear you’re taking Hermione to the ball tomorrow night, Ron,” Harry smirked over his shoulder.

“Yeah, well—more like I didn’t have a good excuse when she asked me why I hadn’t asked her.”

“That’s a shame, I was hoping we might both get lucky this time.”

“Yeah, well… you try saying ‘no’ to Hermione when she’s got her mind made up on something.”

“Yeah, I get it. It just means that you’ve got less chance than zero of getting laid with Little Miss Prim and Proper. I’m going with Cho, and I heard a rumor that she sucks cock.”

“Bollocks!”

“No, I mean it! I heard that she sucked off the Ravenclaw Keeper last summer after they lost in the Quiddich playoffs.”

“Wow… Harry. You’re the luckiest bloke I know.”

“Well, I don’t know if I’d call it luck. I hear Neville might ask your sister to the dance.”

 

[whisperwish19]

"Honestly, Ron! You are the most insufferable..." Hermione's face was bright red, and Ron could have sworn he could see steam coming out of her ears.

"I'm just saying that maybe we should check on Harry," Ron repeated his previous statement, clearly not understanding why that had made Hermione so mad.

"Yes, of course, Ron, we should stop snogging so that we can go check on Harry, who is most likely at this moment snogging Cho," Hermione said as she pushed herself away from Ron and opened the door to the coach where she and Ron had snuck away to. She had thought this would be the night that she and Ron would finally consummate their budding romance, but she should have known. She should have known that Ron would find a way to ruin the evening before it really even got started.

"I hope you and Harry have a wonderful evening," the strawberry blonde said with a huff before slipping from the coach and slamming the small black door shut behind her.

Walking in short, quick steps, Hermione moved away from the line of black coaches that were parked near the entrance to the school, disappearing into the night. She wasn't really heading in any particular direction but after several moments she found herself at the top of the hill above Hagrid's hut. She certainly hadn't intended to wander so far from the main castle, but as she was about to turn and head back she noticed a small form slipping through the shadows toward Hagrid's. A small feminine form with hair like moonlight.

It was Luna Lovegood. Hermione was sure. But why would Luna be out at this time of night by herself and why would she be going to Hagrid's. She hesitated a moment before lifting her skirt up slightly and making her way down the hill toward the hut. Sure enough Luna went to the door and disappeared a moment later. After struggling for several minutes, Hermione eventually stopped long enough to take her heeled shoes off before continuing on down the hill, the shoes in one hand, her other hand still holding her skirts up to keep them from getting dirty.

After her slow descent was finally over, Hermione eased her way around the side of Hagrid's hut toward the window. Setting her shoes down on the ground below the window, Hermione crouched there, listening, still wondering what Luna was up to. She heard a few mumbled words but couldn't make out what was being said, and then she heard sounds coming from the window that left her baffled as to what could be happening.

Slowly, her heart thumping, Hermione rose up til she could peer over the edge of the window and into the hut. Her eyes immediately went wide as she saw both the giant groundskeeper and the diminutive student, and she saw what they were doing...

 

[UnHolyPimpHand]

“I’m just not lucky, Mr. Hagrid…” Neville whined, a sound which made Hagrid realize that the thestrals were no longer crying out, “it’s not going to work out for me. I know it.”

“Mister Longbo’um. Luck is just when preparation meets opportunity. It sounds to me like you’ve done plenty of preparin’—what with your dance lessons, and tomorrow your opportunity will arrive. Just believe in yourself and do yer best. Other’n tha’, worryin’ won’t do ye no favors.”

Nevelle nodded and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his Gryffindor robe. Hagrid had to hold back a sigh of relief when Neville rose to leave. It was such a pain, having to play nice with these entitled brats that thought they could just show up and beg his advice any time they had a little problem or a crush.

Hagrid barely got Neville out the door when he spotted the pale hair of Luna Lovegood, reflecting moonlight as she walked toward his shack from the stables. So she’d fed the animals. It made sense—Luna was uniquely attuned to these animals while most of the sheltered witches and wizards who came through Hogwarts couldn’t even see them.

Hagrid held the door, making sure than Neville was back inside the castle before Luna reached his porch.

“Miss Lovegood,” Hagrid bellowed in his friendly baritone, “I noticed that the thestrals stopped cryin’ out. I’m guessing I ‘ave you ta thank for dah?”

“They were hungry, I hope you don’t mind,” Luna’s voice was breathy and melodic, like a gently chiming bell, “one of them hurt my hand, though. May I come inside for a moment?”

“Of course. Come on inside.”

Luna wasn’t like most of the naïve girls at Hogwarts, she knew deep loss and had a greater sensitivity toward magic that was not entirely understood, even within the wizarding world. Perhaps that was what had urged Hagrid to begin his affair with her. The two had been getting intimate for just over a week—a firing offense if any of the faculty were to discover their secret—but it came so naturally and Hagrid ought to have some fringe benefits from being the therapist and guidance counselor for hire.

Oughtn’t he?

Hagrid was surprisingly gentle with Luna’s slender hand, pouring whisky over the scratch to disinfect and wrapping it in a clean cloth. He tied the cloth tight around the small wound, letting the liquor soak into the fabric. When he was finished tending her wound, their eyes locked for a long moment before both dove into an aggressive, deep kiss. Hagrid’s large hand grasping Luna’s ass under her charcoal, pleated skirt while she hiked one leg up around his hip.