Chapter 1

The Trouble With Wands is is set in the Harry Potter universe but is an alternate reality. It does not strictly follow the Harry Potter cannon. Consider it cannon through book 3 (POA) but not beyond it. Even so, some events will be twisted and reshaped for this author's enjoyment and hopefully yours as well!

Onward to the story...

It was a warm spring evening at Hogwarts castle and Hermione Granger was restless. Most of her classmates were off for a special midterm break, but her parents were away, taking care of Great-Aunt Hilda. She, Harry and the Weasleys were the only occupants of Gryffindor Tower. Ron, Ginny and the twins had stayed on to keep Harry company, and, of course Harry didn't have any place to go at the moment. Most of the professors were here, so it wasn't as if they were entirely unsupervised.

Hermione had been reading the entire day, though she had taken her books outside and had half-watched the Wasleys and Harry playing Quidditch. They had asked her to join, but she was too absorbed in finishing a biography of Nicolas Flamel. Anyway, she wasn't good at sports and she had no desire to be made fun of by her friends. Not that they were likely to do that, but she wasn't about to give Fred and George any opportunities.

It was now after nine in the evening and Hermione felt pleasantly full from dinner but a bit lonely as well. She looked over to the empty beds, imagining her year-mates Lavender, Parvati, Jennifer, and Emily and wondering what they were doing now. Hermione was happy to have some privacy, but this was quickly creeping into a deep loneliness. Ginny was the only other witch in this tower and that was a bit intimidating.

Hermione put the Muggle romance novel she'd been reading aside and walked to the windows, throwing them open. The day had been unseasonably warm and the air in the tower felt still and stagnant. Perspiration was collecting under her light cotton nightgown and she pulled it away from her body, fanning herself. The silence was driving her absolutely mad! What she wouldn't do for a Muggle radio, even if it was tuned to pointless pop music.

Hermione paced for a few minutes before deciding to go down one level and visit Ginny. Surely her friend was as bored as she was. Hermione pulled off her nightgown, shivering a little as the fresh air brushed her nipples, making them stand up. She shrugged off the vaguely uncomfortable feeling and tugged on a loose-fitting shirt, a pair of knickers and some trousers. She slipped her feet into some comfortable shoes, mindful that the stone floors would be cold against her bare feet. As an afterthought, she grabbed her wand. "Never leave home without it," she spoke quietly, recalling some old Muggle phrase that she must have heard on the telly or something.

She knocked on the fourth years' dormitory door and poked her head inside when there was no answer. "Ginny?"

All the candles had been doused and Ginny's bed didn't appear to have been disturbed. Hermione wondered if her friend was in the Common Room and began to descend the stairs. When she was nearly to the bottom, she heard a strange noise and bit her lip to stop herself from calling out to the young girl, who sounded distressed. One small girlish ankle hung over the edge of a couch, but otherwise she couldn't see her friend.

Wand now firmly in hand, Hermione moved silently toward that couch, wondering what she might find. The room was heavily shadowed, but the fireplace was roaring. Despite the heat that the fireplace gave off, the room was comfortably cool, much less oppressive than the fifth year dormitory.

Hermione crept closer slowly, hoping that her friend was all right. As she rounded the foot of the couch, she gasped. Ginny was completely naked and lying on her back. One hand was plumping her small but well-formed breast while the other was working something busily between her legs.

When the gasp reached Ginny, she opened her eyes, gasping in shock herself. Her entire body stilled and Hermione was able to see the wider end of a wand in Ginny's hand.

"What are you doing?" She felt stupid for asking the question, because she knew. She knew that Ginny was working the shaft of her wand inside her. Masturbation. The word came to Hermione in a flash. It was a terribly clinical word for something that seemed quite natural, even if she herself had never experienced it.

"Go away, Hermione. And don't tell anyone about this. I never would have done it if I thought you'd come downstairs."

Ginny's face has blushed as red as her hair. Her hair? Hermione glanced down, unable to resist seeing the color of Ginny's pubic hair. As suspected, it was just as red as the hair on her head, but darker, more rich and redder. The pink and peach color of the younger girl's skin down there and the way the ebony wood set off all that delicately colored flesh intrigued Hermione, as well as titillated her.