Finding True Happiness

Chapter 1 The Ghost's Mistress

Hermione gasped as she half-rose off her bed. It had been happening for a number of weeks now. The first time she thought she had just been dreaming, but after the second, third, fourth... heck, she had lost count!

It couldn't have been Harry, since he was happily with Luna Lovegood. It could have been someone who had borrowed his Invisibility Cloak, or someone who had Disillusioned themselves. She honestly didn't know who this mysterious provider of pleasure was, though she rather hoped that it was her secret admirer. Otherwise it would just be... creepy.

On the face of it, though, it was creepy. An invisible person was sneaking into her private bedroom once a week to bring her off.

Actually, that had stopped a few weeks ago. It had decreased to every few days, and was now almost every night. The nights she missed the phantom hand were not nearly as fun. She tried by herself, but it was no use. Something was missing.

The other person, she thought.

"Tell me who you are," she whispered. The fingers continued to stroke her. "P-please." Her breathing grew harsher again as he (or was it a she?) thrust faster and deeper. Her hips bucked as she drew close once more. "Oh, gods, please! Is this just for fun?"

"No!" a voice said. Hermione gasped and looked around, trying to work out where it had come from. She could almost recognise it. One thing was for certain: it was a male.

"Then... if you really care about me won't you tell me who you are?" Silence. "Plea... oh, sweet f..."

"That's it," the voice coaxed as Hermione's inner muscles fluctuated. The thrusts were harder, her pants grew louder, and then she exploded for the third time that night. Her arousal spilled out all over the covers, further soaking them with something other than sweat and tears. Tears of frustration and tears of joy.

"A-at least touch me somewhere else," she begged. "How will I know that this isn't just lust for you... if you only come here for one thing?" Silence again. She sighed. "Forget it. But if I'm to move on from you will you at least..."

Then she was flat on her back, pinned there by the mystery person, her mouth captured in a ferocious kiss. She couldn't even draw breath as her lips were forced apart. A tongue met hers almost instantly, and as they kissed she shut her eyes in bliss. She moaned deep in her throat as the weight of the body pressed against hers, phantom hands holding her down, cold lips caressing her own.

Had Hermione opened her eyes just then she would have seen her mystery admirer, if only briefly. By the time he pulled back from her, however, he was once again invisible.

She sat bolt upright, gazing around the room.

"I wish you'd trust me," she whispered. "Haven't I shown you trust all this time?" No one spoke. Her gaze wandered to the flowers on her bedside table. "The daisies are lovely. Did you leave these for me?"

There was a pause, then: "Yes."

"Why do I recognise your voice? Do you go to Hogwarts?"

But then she had an overwhelming feeling of loneliness, and knew at once that he had left.

She sighed. Things had started off so differently.

At least she had finally heard his voice.

How had it all begun?

Peeves felt like ramming his head into the wall. Sure, he had planned to tell her who he was someday - that was inevitable. But then he had started to grow feelings... and that had ruined everything. Now he felt guilty, something that had never happened before.

A few centuries ago someone had told him that a poltergeist could take on any human form they liked if they deflowered a maiden with great powers. It had to be consensual, of course, but then Peeves - for all his faults - would never resort to rape. That was why he was going to the trouble of wooing Hermione.

There had been powerful witches before her, of course. However, it wasn't until recently that he felt like giving up his 'job' as the poltergeist of Hogwarts. What with the Weasleys Wizard Wheezes making students much better pranksters his life had less meaning. In fact, he had no life (on more than one level).

Once he had acknowledged this fact he decided to court Hermione Granger. Not only was she the smartest and most powerful witch of her age, but she was also the Head Girl, and thus had her own rooms.

The first test was to see if she really was a virgin. He couldn't imagine her as anything else; and, after he fingered her to climax the first time he could tell that she had never even touched herself before, let alone had someone else do that.

The next morning he left her a bunch of tulips that he had picked.

He didn't always give her flowers, of course (there were other presents, too); but they both enjoyed the nightly visits so much that he stepped up the number of them per week. The other advantage of this was that he was now sure that she would save herself for her... what was it called? That's right. For her 'secret admirer'.

Yet now he had spoken. How long would it take for her to work it out?

Worse than that, he had kissed her. And he had liked it. And he had become visible momentarily, though thankfully she had missed it.

He groaned, sinking his head into his hands.

He hadn't anticipated this. Not at all.