Harry Potter Hermione's Big Brain

**Authors Note:**

**One of the largest inconsistencies in canon is the fact that it is a story about teenagers, dealing with hormones and isolation. Additionally the supposed horcrux in Harry was never rationally explained in any way, and I'll explain why in the story below, assisted, of course by the virtual 'big brain' of our favorite bookworm with the eidetic memory.**

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Harry was staring down at his friend with a mixed expression of amusement, sexual frustration, and anger. After the emotional outpouring of his soul, and fears that he was the last horcrux, she had only momentarily lapsed into a thoughtful silence, before the giggles began to shake her small frame.

Said giggling had caused certain parts of her body to bounce, hence his teenage libido's interest, but the giggling escalating into full-blown belly laughter, complemented with unladylike snorts, and tears of extreme laughter had caused the mixture of other emotions pulling him in all directions.

After several minutes waiting for her to regain control, he finally huffed in exasperation, "If you don't start taking this seriously, I'm gonna turn you over my knee and spank you!", he threatened.

"Oh Harry! Don't make promises you can't keep or can follow through on!", Hermione gasped from her position on the floor, finally regaining some modicum of composure.

At that, Harry's teenage brain screeched to a halt as a flood of hormones and endorphins raced to their designated spots, causing a change in his physical state. Hermione, ever observant, chuckled. "Is that your wand, or did you finally realize I've been coming on to you for the last two years?"

Gaping at his only other female friend, outside of quidditch, Harry's teenage brain did the only thing it could in such a situation, and began an inner fantasy viewing of a rather racy nature featuring the lithe, unclothed body of the young woman laying prone on the floor at his feet.

Hermione, recognizing the glazed look in her friend's eyes, licked her lips unconsciously at the physical indications on display before her. Realizing she'd have to interrupt his inner fantasy to explain herself, she levered up off the floor, grabbed his hand and gently led him over to the couch. Snapping her fingers in front of him to get his attention, she blushed a little as his attention was momentarily focused on her breasts. Sighing dramatically, she grabbed his chin in her hand, forcing him to meet her eyes.

"You are not a horcrux, Harry!", she said, forcing his thoughts back to their previous discussion.

"Huh?", questioned Harry, with all the eloquence of a male teenager. "But Dumbledore...!" He was 'shushed' by a finger placed over his lips.

Lecturing Hermione took over then, as she began pacing, dumbing down the explanation so her un-literary friend, ("_future boy toy_", her hormones interrupted) could understand.

You can't be a horcrux Harry", she began. "First, it takes a complicated ritual to separate the soul, and forcibly bind it to a foreign object, either inanimate, or animate. Secondly, remember Quirrel?" She turned on him, one eyebrow raised questioningly. In that moment, Harry sussed that his friend might be harboring an inner Dominatrix. His eyes wandered down to where her shirt was pressed over two fabulously shaped breasts. Seeing he was distracted again, Hermione felt the surge of heat that flooded her at his interest, but ignored it and snapped her fingers.

"What?", Harry demanded, chuffed she'd drawn his attention from the two very hardened indicators his friend was a _very hot _young woman.

"Finally", she continued, ignoring the pheremones raging around the room, "two souls cannot inhabit one vessel. At most, your brain was probably rewired in some manner, allowing an almost telepathic connection. The concussive force from the killing spell hitting your mother's ward is what caused the scar, probably driving your own mother's shield back into your head. The 'connection' is probably caused by some sort of psychic backlash that either damaged or changed your frontal cortex." At his deadpan expression, she sighed. She really had to get her new toy, er, friend, to read more. After six years they could read each other like a book, but unfortunately his had a lot of pictures in them.

"The frontal cortex is believed to be where 'psychic' abilities originate. Telekenisis, telepathy...", she trailed off, seeing the light of understanding in his eyes.

"So...?", elaborated Harry.

"Nope!", answered Hermione. When his gaze rose to meet hers, it travelled slowly up the full length of her body, causing the two under-sexed, isolated pair to regard each other in a new light.

An hour later two panting people looked around, seeing the remains of the release of the pent up emotions. Books were strewn about, clothing was scattered, and there were suspicious wet spots in several locations. "Well then, I guess we can just relax and plan for our search...", Harry began, before Hermione grabbed his face and kissed him senseless.

"Oh Harry! We can just enlist Dobby to do that. He can travel faster than us, and can remain virtually invisible. As well, I'm sure the goblins will be interested to know that contained in one of their vaults is a piece of the soul of the one person who would slaughter them like animals. We really don't have to do anything!", she finished. Recognizing the glazed look, Hermione figured she'd shut his brain down again, and checked lower. "Yup", she said to herself. Once again, her big brain planned a series of events to alleviate her new toy of the blood pressure problems he was currently experiencing.

Dragging Harry by the hand, she led him upstairs past the room where their other friend was currently sleeping off the numerous stunning spells she'd hit him with earlier. She calculated he'd be out for at least another four hours, giving her time to begin retraining her toy, er, boyfriend. After that, they'd have months to learn some really nasty spells to help end this war once and for all.

The End


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Harry Potter, Humor, Romance