What if...

A Stolen Kiss

"Harry Potter, sir!"

"Go 'way, Dobby. Five more minutes." Harry mumbled, pulling his extremely comfortable pillow closer to his body.

"Master Harry Potter sir needs to wake up now!" Dobby persisted as the boy sighed loudly, turning in his bed to face the elf.

"Um, not to be rude, but- why are you here, Dobby?" He asked.

"Harry Potter sir told Dobby to bring him more of the mini bad wizard shards!" The little elf reminded him, jumping up and down, looking happy with himself.

"That's- wow, that's great, Dobby!" Harry said, honestly proud of the little guy. He looked like he was about to faint, so Harry added, "Just give me a little more time and I'll be right with you." He said, and Dobby nodded excitedly.

"Dobby bes leaving you to sleep and dream of your mate!"

"O-Okay... you do that." Harry collapsed back into his pillow, not quite ready to wake up yet.
___________________________

"So, what is it you have for us, Dobby?" Hermione asked with Harry next to her, the girl incredibly flushed after their brief visit to their twenty fifth broom closet, her hair more bushy and messy than ever, dark patches blooming all around her neck and a glow about her.

Harry looked similar, but his glow was accompanied by a wide smirk that was becoming all too common. He had been marking each closet he had visited, his goal to accompany Hermione into each and every one. She had, of course, agreed eagerly.

"Dobby has found a bad wizard shard!" The elf exclaimed happily, holding up a strange golden locket with a large S in the middle.

"Can you open it?" Harry asked, figuring it would be easier to destroy that way.

"No, sir... Dobby couldn't." He looked ashamed and dangerously close to punishing himself, though he had been ordered against it.

"That's fine, it'll just be a little harder. I hope this works..." Harry said, before putting his hand out, wishing for the Sword of Gryffindor.

With a low roar and a burst of crimson flames, the sword appeared in his hand and he smirked in satisfaction.

"Goblin weapon, basilisk venom." He explained to Hermione, who nodded in understanding, remembering how he had fought the gigantic serpent simply because he got pissed she had been petrified.

"You might want to stand back." Harry directed at Hermione, who nodded, licking her lips in nervous anticipation. He then reared back and brought the sword down powerfully on the locket, sending everyone backwards in a massive shockwave. This must have been one of the early ones.

Suddenly, a black mist poured from the now open locket, slowly forming the head of Voldemort.

"Ew." Harry and Hermione said together at the grotesque image. He really was ugly.

"I have seen your fears, Harry Potter, and they are mine-" Mini Voldemort let out an unholy screech as the Sword of Gryffindor made contact a second time, a thick black substance leaking out, the same that had exited Harry's scar.

"Yeah, I was scared you'd keep talking." Harry said, standing tall with the sword in his right hand, his hair windswept from the force of the locket's opening, all causing Hermione to lick her lips for an entirely different reason. If he wasn't careful, there were going to be little Harrys running around very, very soon. "You alright, 'Mione?" He asked as he turned, the cutest look of concern on his face.

"Mhm." Hermione nodded, not trusting her voice not to crack or squeak.

"That's three down." Harry said triumphantly. "Diary, me, locket."