Pennelope and the Hallows (Harry Potter Love Story) book 7

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This chapter is dedicated to @tM0922 I love reading your comments and seeing notifications of what you've said XD I'm glad you like the series! It means a lot.

(So this chapter involves a . . . er. . . Scene. . . So if you're not into that kind of thing I advise you skip past it XD )

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"Gregorovitch," a voice softly muttered. My eyes fluttered open. "Gregorovitch."

"Harry?" I whispered, using my elbow to prop myself up as Harry muttered in his sleep. His arm was on my waist and mine was draped over his stomach, my leg was laying across his. "Oi, wake up." I lifted my hand and stroked a few strands of raven coloured hair off Harry's forehead.

Harry's eyes opened, looking around until his eyes landed on me.

"Scar," he muttered, I got the message and placed my index finger on his scar, tracing the pattern slowly. "What happened?"

"You were muttering in your sleep," I whispered, placing a kiss on his lightening bolt.

"Was I?"

"Yeah. 'Gregorovitch.' You kept saying 'Gregorovitch.' "

Harry squinted his eyes at me, seeing as he doesn't have his glasses on.

"Who's Gregorovitch?" Harry asked, his right arm tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

"I dunno, do I? You were the one saying it," I snickered.

Harry's hand fell from my hair and onto his forehead. "I think Voldemort's looking for him."

"Poor guy," I mumbled, falling back onto the bed, my head on Harry's chest. But that didn't last long, Harry had sat up and lightening speed. "Dude -"

"I think he's abroad."

"Who?" I questioned, recovering from the fall and sitting up as well. "Gregorovitch."

"Voldemort. I think he's somewhere abroad, looking for Gregorovitch. It didn't look like anywhere in Britain."

"You reckon you were seeing into his mind again?" I shifted, watching Harry in worry.

"I know you don't like it, Pennelope, I'm sorry," Harry said quickly.

I sighed, shaking my head. "I know, just . . . Please try and stop."

"I think," Harry began slowly after a moment of silence. "He's got something to do with Quidditch. There's some connection, but I can't - I can't think of what it is."

"Quidditch?" I repeated. "Are you sure you're not thinking of Gorgovitch?"

"Who?"

I cleared my throat and straightened up. "Dragomir Gorgovitch, Chaser, transferred to the Chudley Cannons for a record free two years ago. Record holder for most Quaffle drops in a season."

"No, how do you know that?" Harry asked, looking confused.

I shrugged slightly and said one simple word, "Ron."

"Oh. . . Well, no, I am definitely not thinking of Gorgovitch."

"Mmm," I hummed. "Well. . ." I lunged forward, knocking Harry backwards on the bed, myself straddling his stomach. "Happy birthday!"

I bent down and passionately placed my lips on his, he responded instantly by gripping my hips and flipping us over, making my head knock against the mattress.

I moaned softly, the feeling of his body pressed against mine was paradise. His hard chest roughly knocking against the softness of my breasts. My heart hammered against my chest and my breathing quickened rapidly.