Harry Potter: Imagines, Smut, and Scenarios

Harry Potter Prefect's Bathroom (HEAVY SMUT)

This chapter will contain vivid, descriptive, and intense mentions of sexual intercourse and moderate cursing.

It's a few weeks until the next tournament task, nobody has any clue what it might be, but I hope my friends will be fine, whatever it is. It still worries me that Harry is the youngest in this tournament, in general, too. In times like this, I decide to hang out with Myrtle, a friendly, sweet ghost girl; she resides in the place she was killed, the prefect's bathroom. I have other friends, alive ones, but it's something about Myrtle that makes me feel comfortable, just at home.

I begin taking my clothes off, stripping to nothing as I step into the large, porcelain bathtub, soaking the tub with bubbles before Myrtle wonders here in search of finding me.

I see her figure flash towards me, slowly descending, a huge, toothy smile, giggling; she floats around, left to right, up, and down, "I was expecting you, y/n, now, let's talk boys," giggling louder, more breathlessly.

"Yeah, it's not that; I can't help but be worried for Harry, you know how it is, and it's like, it's just, I don't know actually."

She floats closer towards me, causing me to unintentionally back up a bit, "You are so clueless, aren't you," giggling louder than before, "I know you have a little thing for Potter, you won't forget about me when he's all over you, will you," her once pale, happy face now sulking, whimpering, floating around, and crying, all over again.

"Oh, merlin's beard, Myrtle, don't be silly, he won't reciprocate my feelings, and I would never abandon you, I promise," smiling at her, she still doesn't look like she believes me.

"PahPahPah, y/n, you will, it's okay, they always do," her hands buried in her arms, knees pressed to her chin.

"I'm sorry, is there anything I can do to make you feel better, or at least believe me?"

She pauses, a smirk stretching across her once youthful cheeks, "There is! Can you please get the book about unicorns and finding them? It's in your dorm?"

"Uh, how did you know about that? Never mind, I'll just grab my towel," I take my dirty clothes, placing them on the opposite side of the bathroom, in an area most wouldn't see.

I hear childish, breathless light laughter behind me; I can't help but feel she's up to something, or at least pranking me in some way.

I try keeping up a fast pace, avoiding leaving traces of dripping water, or drawing attention; thankfully, this towel is large enough to cover me entirely, even though I could have done well with a smaller towel.

Finally, I reach the Gryffindor dormitory, entering the password, the 'fat lady,' as everyone calls her, was concerned about my covering in a towel, being soaked, and out late, I assured her I just needed a fancy cool bath.

Staying light on my feet, I avoid the hollow creeks in the wooden boards; the book Myrtle requested is lying in a pile of Hermione's robes, not even surprised. Gently, slowly picking the book up, I tighten my towel, rushing back to the prefect's bathroom.

Although not too far, the journey here was daunting, Filch's mangled cat spotted me, but I managed to avoid them. Being as quiet as possible, I open the bathroom door, and without a second thought, I drop my towel, ready for the hot water to stimulate my skin.

Placing Myrtle's book aside, it makes a somewhat loud thump, only loud enough for me to hear, or so I thought.

The sound of water being splashed overcomes my senses; turning towards the sound, I lock eyes, meeting with green, dilated pupils, staring right back. Oh. My. God. It's Harry; I am naked and staring at Harry, he is watching me, and he hasn't turned away. Oh no, where's my towel? Oh god, I can't find it.