"Entirely Devoted"
Chapter Four
By 'the_scribbler'
the_scribbler shadowgard (d*t) com
Pursuant to the Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 and the Digital Millennium Copyright Act of 1998, 17 U.S.C. §§ 512, 120 1–1 205, this work is copyrighted 2012 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion, or hosted on any website, without the express written and notarized permission of the author.
Disclaimer: I do not own rights toany of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2003, to whom I am deeply indebted. The Harry Potter series is property of Joanne K. Rowling, and Arthur A. Levine Books, Inc., a division of Scholastic Press, Inc., © 2003. I make no money from any of this. WHATEVER IS LEFT IS MINE.
CONTENT Disclaimer: This story may contain sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is mostly coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. These stories are just that, stories, and do not promote or condone the activities described herein
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From Chapter three:
"I know not, my lord. I know only that I am still bound by the oaths that I was forced to take in order to get closer to Albus Dumbledore. The Headmaster has done something, though I know not what, to cause the others to vote against him. He was deposed as leader and the group has disbanded. The Headquarters is still protected, but the protections are weakening. I can describe it to you now, though I cannot tell you the address."
"And what of Harry Potter? Do you know where the brat lives? Where he can be found?"
"I do not, my lord, and I have not seen him since he departed on the train from Hogsmeade."
The Dark Lord's eyes bore into him from where he sat and Severus could feel the metal intrusion. He carefully shunted the Legilimency probe into visions which he wished the Dark Lord to see, and not the ones he was protecting. When the probe withdrew, it was immediately apparent that he was satisfied. "Rise my friend and take your place among us. You bring us important news and now we must figure out how to best use it."
"Yes, my lord. Thank you."
"Smile, Snape! Your service pleases me. You are still true to your calling and deserve the respect of all those here. Isn't that right?"
The chorus of "yes, lord" and "aye, my lord" was loud, but it had an insincere edge to it that was distinguishable from where he sat. It was obvious that there were those who were less than thrilled that he had pleased the Dark Lord this night. He wondered how long it would be before the knives came out and the assassination attempts began. Before or after I dispose of you, Tom Riddle?
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Headmaster's office, Hogwarts; August 10, 1996
"Calm down? You've got to fucking kidding, Albus! You know what the little shit did to me! I'm going to fucking kill him." Alastor Moody's tone told the Headmaster that the man was, in fact, quite serious and that Harry Potter was in actual danger from the old Auror.
"You'll not harm him, Alastor. I won't permit it. We need him and you know it."
"Fuck you, old man. He took my retirement and now he's taken my manhood. I'm going to kill him and there's nothing you can do to stop me." Alastor's boiling anger was palpable and the wand in his hand told the Headmaster all that he needed to know. The retired Auror fired first, but it didn't do him any good. A glowing shield sprang into existence and sent the magic off at an angle, so that it crashed into one of the stone abutments that held up the roof above them.
"Good bye, my friend. I'm sorry that our friendship ends this way" the Headmaster said, with a genuine sadness and hurt in his voice. "Cordisstatur" The powerful bolt slammed through the Auror's shield and dove into his chest, causing the man's heart to suddenly seize up and making him pitch backwards, his hand clutched to his chest. He would die – there was nothing that could prevent that – but it would be eight long minutes before both brain and body realized it.
When the Headmaster was well and truly sure that the man was dead, he said a short prayer and then transfigured the body into a small, lifelike statue of his life-long friend, and tucked it away in a drawer in his desk.
Turning away from his desk, the hero of the light, the defeater of Grindelwald, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot looked around, unsure of what to do next. For the first time in his life, he felt totally and completely lost and he could not stop the tears that came to his eyes from falling down his long beard. I'm sorry that it came to this, my old friend. You didn't deserve to have things end this way. I will miss you more than you could know.
It would be three days before word got out from Gringotts' Wills & Trusts department that Alastor Moody was dead. For some it was cause for great personal sadness and for others, a cause for wild celebration. No matter who was asked by reporters at The Daily Prophet, there was an opinion to be had. Among the adult (former) members of the Order of the Phoenix there was disbelief, shock, and profound sadness. This was most especially true for Nymphadora no-name, who had been Alastor's last protégé, and Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had worked with Moody for many years.
For the youth – meaning Neville, the Weasley children, Luna, and the rest of the DA who heard about his passing – there were mixed emotions. On one hand, there was genuine sadness because of the respect that they all had for the heroic things that Moody had done over the years – most especially in the Blood War, as the Dark Lord's first rise to power was being called. On the other hand, there was a certain amount of satisfaction that Moody was now not in a position to harass, abuse, or otherwise be a problem for Harry Potter. Alastor, after all, had been one to help Albus Dumbledore imprison Harry each summer and had stood by during Harry's primary-school years when he had been the most seriously abused by his 'relatives'.
Harry, of course, didn't hear anything about Moody's death and would not for several weeks.
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Southern end of the Southampton Docks, Southampton, UK – Sunday, August 11, 1996
"There she is! The RMS Queen of the Oceans. God, she's big. Oh, this is going to be fun!" Hermione looked at her husband had had to smile. He had relaxed so much since they had gotten together and now he seemed just like a big kid. It really was very sweet to see, Hermione thought. How often has Harry really gotten a chance to relax and lose all of the worries that he carries? Not often, Hermione had to admit.
The Queen of the Oceans was a brand-new ship and this was, according to the adverts, its maiden voyage. Harry had asked Dobby to carry a discreet message to the Goblins at Gringotts, asking for their help in booking the best room Harry could get aboard the ship and further, their help in making sure that it was done untraceably. There was no need, he thought, to make it any easier than necessary for anyone who was hunting them.
For a cost that was much lower than Harry had expected, they were booked for a "premier suite' on the Marquee deck. Harry had been very excited to see the look on his beloved's face when she read of the amenities and the service-level. They were going to have their own private steward! Hermione had never been one to pursue personal luxuries or to worry at all about having rich trappings around her, but to be able to enjoy such a suite with her husband set off all sorts of excited feelings.
"Here we are" the nervous, young concierge said, after what seemed like an interminable amount of time wending their way through the ship. "Suite 14. I hope that you enjoy your time onboard, sir."
"You understand that my husband's name is not to be discussed among the crew?"
"Yes, miss. The people who booked this trip for you were most emphatic on that point."
"Good."
"If that will be all? I will send your private stewardess to you once you've gotten settled in. Say an hour?"
Harry nodded and dismissed the man, not wanting to interact with him. Hermione did the same and made sure to close and lock the door when the man left. Harry turned and smiled at his wife when he heard the lock click into place.
"Bed?" he asked playfully.
Hermione, playing the part of an exasperated wife, put her hands on her hips in the same way she always had. Harry leered at her before lunging to her side and scooping her up in his arms for the short trip to the king bed.
Giggling, Hermione fell back, her head hitting the oversized, fabulous pillows that were stacked up. "You are such_a_boy!" Dragging out each word, Hermione wrestled with her husband, seeking a good handhold that would allow her to pull him up high enough that she could kiss him breathless.
When she was successful and he was atop her, Harry pressed his forehead to hers and let his lips brush hers. "I love you, Hermione"
"I know, Harry. Just as I love you. More than life itself."
"Make love?"
"Please" she whispered into his mouth.
An hour or so later, there was a knock on the door. Hermione was loath to get up, as she was finally feeling peaceful and comfortable after their long and meandering journey from No. 12 Grimmauld Place to Gringotts to Canterbury and then, finally, down the coastline to Southampton. Harry, always a light sleeper, reluctantly left her side and went to answer it.
When he opened the door, he did so only part way, so that his body was hidden from sight. It took a moment to focus on the person standing in the doorway. When he did, Harry received a shock of sorts. In the doorway was their personal stewardess – the most beautiful girl, other than Hermione, that he had ever seen. It took him a minute to assemble his wits and even then he had to force himself to speak carefully. "Can I…. can I help you?"
Without thinking, Harry swept back his unruly mop of bed-head hair with a free hand and when he did, the girl in front of him gasped. "My God. You're Harry Potter!"
The words were barely out of her mouth when she found herself pulled inside the cabin, the door slammed closed, and a wand-tip pressing against the underside of her jaw. It didn't matter for the moment that Harry Potter was naked. He radiated power that no other young man could even dream of and it more than made up for any lack of clothes.
"Who are you and how do you know my name?"
Tremulously, she stammered out, "My… my name is Gráinne O'Malley. I'm from County Claire. I'm a squib." The sudden presence of another person in the room brought Hermione to her husband's side, naked as well, and with a wand in her hand.
"What are you doing here on the ship?"
"I'm working, don't you know. Had to get away from the family. Go to sea, my friends said. See the world. They never said anything about running across the most famous wizard on Earth, naked." She said the last bit with a forced laugh, as if trying to break the terror of being held at wand-point.
"You're an Animagus, aren't you?"
She looked at him, wide-eyed. Even Hermione was caught off-guard by his statement. "How did you know?"
"My father was one and my adoptive dad is one. My transfiguration teacher is one. I know how their magic feels."
"But I don't have any magic. I'm a squib."
Harry snorted and then tossed his wand back over to the rumpled king bed. "You've plenty of magic. Someone's bound it, but it's still there. It's strong, too. It's leaking through the binding. How do you think you made the Animagus change so easily?"
"I can break the binding, but I need your magic, Hermione. Remember what I showed you?" Hermione was now openly staring at him. It was incredible to see him admit to his powers and take advantage of them for someone else's benefit.
Hermione grinned. The first time she and Harry had shared magic, she had cum three times in a row. It was an intensely intimate and wonderful experience. "Lie down, Gráinne. On the bed. Oh, and we're going to need you naked. You'll probably go through your transformation at least once while we do this."
Gráinne looked at him and then at Hermione. The moment she looked at the ring on the girl's hand, she realized something that should have been apparent to her immediately. This wasn't just Harry's girlfriend. She was standing in front of Harry's wife, The Lady Gryffindor-Potter.
"Ye….yes, my lord!"
Hermione pulled Harry close, whispering at him furiously. "What does she mean?"
He turned his face so that he could whisper in his wife's ear, "Remember our moment in that vault? Remember whose vault that was?"
Hermione was anything but stupid and she berated herself for not remembering that Harry had laid claim to the Gryffindor vaults and how excited the Goblins were that he had done so. He whispered to her again. "I'm Lord Gryffindor or I suppose Gryffindor-Potter, for those who care. I don't. I just didn't think it would ever come up."
Hermione nodded, as if the issue was settled, stepped away from him just slightly, and then turned her attention back to the girl standing in front of them, still clothed. "Well?"
Nervously fingering the buttons of her dress uniform, the girl said, "Well… I was hoping that you might be willing… to help?"
Harry grinned. He knew Hermione's proclivities and of course, his own. Their hands made quick work of the buttons that held her dress closed. When it fell in a pool at her feet, they both sucked in a breath. Even with a demure, cream-colored silk chemise and reasonably modest silk bikini knickers on, they could scarcely believe their eyes. By silent agreement, Harry helped Gráinne out of her bra while Hermione fell to her knees to shuck off the girl's knickers – a process which she deliberately dragged out for her own enjoyment.
When Hermione stood again, she took Harry's hand in hers and for a moment, neither said anything as they took in the girl's beauty.
Gráinne was a goddess, physically. 5'8", with dark brownish-black shoulder-length hair that lay, interlaced with striking auburn streaks. She had blue eyes, high, proud, perfect c-cup breasts, a perfectly flat stomach, gorgeous tight arse, and perfectly smooth, petite pussy.
The Potters weren't alone in taking the beauty. Gráinne stared openly now too. The sight of them caused her nipples harden into diamonds and her pussy to moisten furiously. Hermione was amazing to look at in her estimation. Every bit of her was perfect – from her angelic face and full, auburn hair down to her smaller but perfectly formed, high, tight breasts. Gráinne also licked her lips at the thought of exploring the flat, exercise-hardened stomach all the way down to Hermione's own pink, petite, and perfectly smooth pussy.
Then Gráinne took in Harry. The unruly mop of jet black hair couldn't hide his incredibly vibrant, deep-sea green eyes nor could it hide his strong jaw and handsome face. As her eyes drifted south, she saw significant scars and other marks across his arms and upper chest and for a moment felt a shiver of something that was either fear or sadness. She couldn't tell which. His body was hard, lean, hairless, and incredibly strong-looking. It was clear that he too was exercise-hardened. Probably Quidditch, she thought. Then she saw his cock. It was huge. Hard. Pulsating. Mouth-watering.
Hermione knew without thinking about it what Gráinne saw. She grinned possessively and reached next to her to wrap a hand around it, which caused Harry to groan with appreciation. "Want this?" She stroked his cock repeatedly and then waved it back and forth slowly at their new friend. "You're going to have to be a good girl first."
"Anything" Gráinne croaked out. "Please". She reached up to play with her nipples and looked at his cock longingly. Harry chuckled and Hermione stroked him again, this time more slowly, using her hand to emphasize just how well-endowed Harry was.
As much as Harry wanted to enjoy the foreplay, he knew that things would be much better once Gráinne had had her magic unbound. That was going to take some focus and it would take combining his magic with Hermione's, so that he had enough power to overcome the power of the binder, whoever he or she was. Removing her hand from his cock, Harry guided her in front of him, so that she was between him and Gráinne and her back was pressed against his chest. Putting his hands around her waist, he said to her gently "Bend over, love. Let me in."
Hermione quite willingly did so; excited by the thought of being fucked by her husband in such an erotic situation. The moment he entered her, she gasped. His magic washed over his whole body, including his cock, and it lit her up as he sheathed himself in her.
Once Harry had centered himself mentally and adjusted to the unique feeling of sharing magic with Hermione while making love to her, he looked at Gráinne, who was laying on the bed with her legs spread wide, touching herself and making small whimpering noises. It was a powerfully erotic sight and he had to struggle for a moment to focus his concentration upon the magical task at hand. Unbinding someone's magic wasn't something he would have ever considered even trying outside of a controlled classroom setting, if it hadn't been for the fact that he had been able to feel her magic leaking through the binding so strongly.
Pouring out his whole self, Harry began the enchantment. "Reserassem et labefacto. Desinam immundum magica." As he struggled to unwind the enchantments on Gráinne, sweat began to accumulate on his forehead. Fighting to hold himself inside his wife, to maintain their magical connection, while breaking the magic that was holding back Gráinne's true nature, he tapped his core as he had never done before. The binding twisted around her and fought him, and for what seemed like a long time, he didn't think he was going to win. It was much harder than anything he had ever done before, including fending off the hundreds of Dementors that had tried to kill him and Sirius in his third year. He closed his eyes, pushed his cock as deep into Hermione as he could and continued the Unmaking Ritual. "Reserassem et labefacto et quod habet naturam illam! Disperderet intus malum est anima eius! Finite Incantatem!"
The conclusion of the ritual threw him and Hermione backwards, breaking their physical as well as magical connection.
Harry tasted blood. And his head hurt. A lot. He tried to move and realized that his head wasn't the only thing that hurt. His right hand hurt a great deal. Rolling over on his side, he realized that he had caught Hermione as she had been blown backwards and had somehow cushioned her with his own body. At the cost of his own safety.
At the same moment, Hermione sat up and looked around. Her back felt bruised and she wondered just what the hell had happened. Then she heard her husband's moan of pain and whipped around to look at him. He was battered and bruised and the desk behind him had suffered the brunt of the impact, as it was broken almost in half and the wall behind it was smashed inwards. It was also obvious that Harry's hand and arm were broken and that he was having a very hard time moving.
Almost instinctively, she called for the one person she knew she could trust. "Dobby!"
!Pop! "Mistress calls Dobby?"
"Yes! Get me Essence of Dittany, Skele-Gro, a bottle of pain killer, and a bottle of Dreamless Sleep. Now!"
!Pop! Dobby disappeared immediately. From the bed Hermione heard a sound very much like a hiss. From the edge of the bed, a yellow and black head – a snake's head – looked over at them. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Fucking figures you'd be a snake. Can you transform back? I need your help."
A moment later, Gráinne eased off the bed, human again. She looked down at Hermione, naked and with a sad look on her face. Hermione saw the look and shook her head. "I'm not mad at you for being a snake. It's just that Harry's a Parselmouth and people didn't react well to that when it became known. He also didn't have a very good experience with the first snake he came across."
"Oh. What was it?"
"Basilisk. 90 feet long. Harry had to kill it."
It took more than a minute for Gráinne to absorb the fact that Harry had not only faced a Basilisk – almost the very embodiment of evil among magical creatures – but had successfully defeated it without losing his own life. When she had collected her wits, she said quietly "That's a story I think I'm going to want to hear."
!Pop! Dobby appeared again. "Dobby got everything, Mistress. Slimy Potions teacher no be wanting to share. Dobby convince him. Slimy teacher no longer likes Dobby. Dobby proud!"
Despite her worry for Harry, Hermione laughed. "Dobby is the very, very best. Slimy Potions Teacher needs to learn fear." Even Dobby laughed at that. "Thank you Dobby. Please tell Neville and the others that Slimy Potions Teacher is learning fear. They will love you like we do." The little elf bounced up and down on his tiny heels and smiled the biggest smile he could at his mistress before popping away.
Taking the Essence of Dittany, Hermione literally wiped away the cuts on Harry's body from where he had smashed into the desk. As she did so, she could see splinters working their way out of his skin and his bruises fade. After she finished, she levitated Harry to the center of the bed, so that he could sleep. "Harry, if you can hear me, I need you to open your mouth. I have Skele-gro for you, Dreamless Sleep potion, and some pain killer. I'll give them to you in that order, ok?"
Harry nodded weakly. He hurt all over, but he knew he was safe with Hermione, so he didn't resist.
Kneeling on the side of the bed, Hermione did her best not to move much. "Harry, the ship's underway in a half-hour. An hour after that, we'll be safely out of British waters. I'll stand guard until we're safely away. You need to sleep, ok? Now, open up."
Harry did so, swallowing each of the potions in turn. The Skele-gro was just like he remembered: Foul sewer sludge with an aftertaste of badly burnt flesh. The Dreamless sleep potion tasted like lemons – bitter, but not badly so – and the painkiller tasted like an orange dream-pop.
A minute after Harry had swallowed the last of the potions, he was out like a light. Hermione knew he would be for the next twelve hours, at a minimum, and she knew she'd have to put up the best, most robust wards that she knew before she too fell asleep. Until then, however, she had some things to settle with Gráinne – things that Harry didn't need to hear.
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At the Malfoy Estate, Kielder Island – late afternoon, Sunday, August 11, 1996
Thud. "Apology accepted, Gibbon." The Death Eater's body hit the ground, already growing cold. Around him, the other Death Eaters faded a little bit towards the walls, each trying to minimize the Dark Lord's attention towards him or her. Gibbon's failure had been of one of omission – but it didn't matter to the Dark Lord. Failure was unacceptable when the circumstances were within the Death Eater's control.
"Now, my assembled Death Eaters, does anyone else have things to tell me?"
A voice from the back of the hall drew the Dark Lord's attention. It was his potions-master. "Severus! Come, come. What brings you back?"
Severus Snape made his way around the table and hurried forward, coming to kneel at the Dark Lord's feet. "I come to serve, my lord"
"Oh rise, Severus. Your loyalty isn't questioned here. You have served as few others have done. Now, tell me. What brings you back? You weren't scheduled to return for several more days."
"Yes, my lord. You needed to know this now, rather than waiting. I have discovered how Moody died."
"Oh? And how is that important?"
"It's important because it was the old man who killed him, my lord. Alastor had declared a blood feud with Potter, for having made him incontinent and because Sirius Black willed all of his money and titles to the brat. Moody couldn't retire and he told the old man that he was going to kill Potter. As a result, Minerva McGonagall has broken with the Order and has resigned her post. She has taken most of the staff with her and the school will not open on time in the fall."
This news made the room erupt into chaos, until a cannon-blast from the Master's wand forced a near-instant silence to descend. The Dark Lord looked at the black-haired potions-master for a long minute and then bade him rise. "Again, Severus, you show your worth. I was a fool to think that you would never amount to anything when you were younger. Clearly, I missed your potential and your loyalty. For that, I am sorry."
Severus bowed his head. "Thank you, my lord. I learn from you and that is all I can ask."
"The Teacher becomes a student? Hardly, my potions-making friend. There is little I can teach you these days. You have become wily as you have grown. The old fool doesn't know how powerful you have become and that is a good thing. The only problem now is the one you have brought us tonight. Where to send our children? Where do we send those who would learn the ways of a proper pure-blood?"
"If I may, my lord? We have the numbers now in the Wizengamot to have Dumbledore removed. Perhaps it is time, seeing that the fool has lost control of his staff, to force a change. We could put in someone who is loyal to you and run the school as our own bastion of power. There are many resources there, my lord. It is a fortress after all. We wouldn't even have to take on the Ministry until we were truly ready to do so and we'd do it with many more wands available for the fight."
"Who would you have lead the school, Severus? Do you wish the post?"
"Please lord, no. It is all I can do not to curse the dunderheads whom I've been forced to teach this last year. Being Headmaster would cause me to want to take my own life. Potions are my first and only love, my lord. The solitude of a lab is all I ask."
The Dark Lord laughed. "Ah, Severus. Such honesty from you. Surely some of our children were the bright sparks you seek?"
"If it is honesty that you seek from me my lord, then honesty you shall have. It is my sadness that many of our children were among the dunderheads that I was made to suffer. Somehow many have come to believe, wrongly, that being of the blood is enough and that no work is required of those who are. Crabbe, Goyle, Nott. Malfoy. Fools, my lord. They should not have been allowed wands in the first place. There are others as well. I feared for my own safety when they were in the lab."
"Is it truly so, Severus?" The potions-master nodded.
"Look at my memories, my lord. See for yourself. I was almost killed because of the Malfoy Scion. In his third year he thought to sabotage Potter's potions and forgot that Eye of Newt reacted explosively when added to certain potions. He wanted so desperately to be Potter's equal that he failed to remember just how many of our own people he might kill with his foolish ways."
The Dark lord stepped down from his dais and gently took the potion-master's face in his hands. "Show me."
Severus obliged him. The memories were real enough and he didn't even have to hide other thoughts, as everything that he would relay actually happened in one fashion or another. Once three minutes had passed, the Dark Lord dropped his hands and stepped back, clearly shaken.
"You see, my lord? The old fool has made our children soft. He has coddled them and dropped important classes from the curriculum because he thought that pure-blood children couldn't handle the work. He was right, but not for the reasons that he believed were true. It didn't matter though, because in the end, the students have grown weak and foolish. They lack discipline, study-skills, cunning, and strength – everything that could make for greatness in your followers."
The Dark Lord's eyes were alert and angry now. "Crabbe! Nott! Goyle! Tolin! Come here!" In days past, he would have called for the Malfoys as well, but Lucius was in Azkaban, Narcissa was dead, and Draco was – at least for the moment – beyond his reach. The four hurried forward and prostrated themselves at the Dark Lord's feet. "You four. Go, get your wives. Bring your wives here. It is time for a reckoning. I have seen what you have done as parents and you have failed. No more. I am your LORD! YOU WILL do what I command or your children will be forever taken from you and given to someone more deserving. NOW GO."
After the four had fled the hall, the Dark Lord turned to Bellatrix Lestrange. "Bella, my love. I have need of you."
"I live for you, my master"
He looked at her lithe, unrepentant, almost undressed body with a sadistic, leering desire. "I know, my pet. I know. Now is not the time for that. Later, perhaps, but not now. This moment needs your special skills. You must become a teacher again. There is no one else I can trust to teach what you know."
"My body and my wand are yours, my master. Is there anything you don't want taught?"
"Only that one thing, love. Only that one thing. Make sure they know everything else." She nodded knowingly.
If Severus wondered what the Dark Lord was alluding to with Bellatrix, he didn't let on. It didn't pay to let the Dark Lord know that you were curious about things that he had specifically put off-limits. However, it did pay to show the Dark Lord that his other followers had failed him and that in order to rectify that failure, the dunderheads had to grow up and learn. Severus very much planned to be a part of that process. The dunderheads would learn… but oh so much more than the Dark Lord expected. So very, very much more.
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Leaky Cauldron, Charring Cross Road, London; Late Sunday evening
Tom the bar-man looked across the sweep of tables that constituted the main dining room of his bar and grille. It was, actually, a "pub' in the best English tradition, but most of the pure-bloods and half-bloods that frequented the place wouldn't have made the connection, since most of them didn't patronize Muggle places very often. Not that they couldn't necessarily, but they didn't. Mostly, he thought, because it required extra effort to exchange Galleons for Muggle money and most of them just couldn't be bothered. The few that did go back and forth between the two worlds were almost entirely 'first-generation' witches and wizards, for whom the Muggle world was home and the magical world a place to visit.
This particular night, two half-bloods were talking at a table towards the back. He knew one of them – Remus Lupin – while the other was a non-descript girl whom he had never seen before. He watched them for a moment while he put away clean stemware and then turned his attentions elsewhere. It was for that reason that he missed something crucial.
At the booth where Remus sat, the tensions were high. His companion was a newly fired Auror by the name of Nymphadora Tonks. She had been fired for slapping Albus Dumbledore in public and for threatening the life of Harry Potter in the presence of her boss, Amelia Bones. Worse, she had been disowned by her mother, as her father was a Muggle, and therefore ejected from any magical heritage. All in all, she was well and truly screwed.
"Tell me again what happened, Tonks. I want to be absolutely certain that I understand the situation."
The well-known Metamorphmagus glared at him. "Exactly why do you care? What are you going to do? Somehow get me re-instated? Make Bones forget that I promised to kill that little shit?"
"No, but I might be able to help in other ways. The London DMLE isn't exactly the only place where your talents could be put to use."
"OK, I was in the Atrium at the Ministry, after our vote, and Dumbledore showed up. He had promised to fix things with Sirius and get me re-instated in the family. He lied to me. He never had any intention to help or any ability to do so. When I got close enough, I backhanded him across the face and knocked him on his arse."
This made Remus perk up and raise an eyebrow. No one had dared assault Dumbledore in many years. The last one was Augusta Longbottom, who had, coincidentally, also bitch-slapped him publically. He wondered idly if he'd be able to get a copy of the memory.
"So you slapped him. What happened next?" Remus asked, trying to push the conversation forward. He knew how it was probably going to turn out – something that made him sad – but he had an obligation to try nonetheless.
She tapped her fingers on the broad, oak trestle table that separated them. "I got grabbed by Shacklebolt and another guy whom I didn't recognize. They hauled me down to HQ and in front of the Boss."
"And? What did Bones say?"
"At first she was patient. She understood Black in ways that most don't. I told her the whole situation and everything that had happened with the Order. I also told her about what the little shit had done to me, breaking my wand and all. I'm going to kill him for that."
Remus might have – in other circumstances – understood the anger that Nymphadora was feeling. However, the fact that she was holding her wand and it lit up brightly meant that he was going to have to do what he most wanted not to do – but what he and Sirius had discussed as a final option if he didn't feel that he could recruit her to Harry's cause. A magical oath, once given, was impossible to withdraw. He looked at her, the sadness evident on his face. "I'm sorry, Nymphadora. Imperio!"
Nymphadora Tonks should have realized that Remus Lupin had been holding a wand on her the whole time… but she didn't. "You will stand and act normally after I've paid our check. You will walk outside with me and you will do as you are told, never making a sound or acting out in any way."
It took another minute or so for Remus to do as he had said. The young ex-Auror got up and followed, just has she had been commanded, and they were soon standing out on the street, on the Muggle section of Charring Cross Road. It was dark, save for a sliver of a moon in the sky and the road was all but deserted. Remus handed her a large vial of the barbituate Pentobarbital that he had withdrawn from an inner pocket. "Drink this now." She did so and in a moment, collapsed to the street.
He looked at her and didn't try to stop the tears that had come to his eyes. "Sirius loved you, Nymph. I loved you too. I'm so sorry…." Before he lost his nerve, he pointed his wand at her. "Permuto!" It switched all of the Sodium Chloride in her body with Potassium Chloride – which Remus knew would quickly, but also quite painfully stop her heart. Before anyone could see what had happened, Remus put a well-worn Knut in her hand and tapped it once. Just as soon as he had done so, she disappeared in a flash of magic. If or when her body was found – and that was likely not to be for at least a week or more, what he had done would not be discovered, at least not by any magical, and it would initially look like she had died of natural causes. However, it would be immediately obvious to anyone with even two brain cells that she had been killed, as twenty-somethings just don't go around dying for no reason, but it would never be traced back to him.
Looking around, Remus decided it was safe enough to leave as well and, turning on his heal, Disapparated.
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In the early morning hours, August 12, 1996, Aboard the RMS Queen of the Oceans, 249 miles south, off the coast of Brittany, France.
Fourteen hours after leaving port, The RMS Queen of the Oceans was sailing with the rising sun at its stern, but was about to make the turn southwards, towards the coast of Spain and eventually, the mouth of the Mediterranean Sea. Harry Potter was laying in the massive European king bed, with Hermione on one side and their new lover, Gráinne, on the other. The movement of the ship up and down as it rode the waves was so minimal that Harry slept more peacefully than he had ever done before.
As for Hermione, the marathon girl-talk session between her and Gráinne while Harry slept and recovered from his injuries had drained her both emotionally and physically. The long hours of talk had ended in a seriously intense '69', with the promise of much, much more for both, before she had collapsed into bed with Harry. The same was true for Gráinne. The only difference was that Gráinne was experiencing something entirely novel for her – the blossoming of her magical core. Novel, of course, because someone had bound her magic for no-one-knew how long and it was just now freed to express itself.
The question that the three had was why her magic had been bound. One thing that Gráinne had said which concerned Hermione was that she didn't know either of her birth parents. It was as if they had just up and disappeared right after she was born. Somehow, though she didn't know exactly how it had happened, she had come to be raised by an older couple in Doolough. It was a town with a single-room primary school and a total population that was smaller than Hogwarts – which is why she somehow slipped beneath the notice of the Ministry
By 0730 hours the occasional noises in the hallway outside their cabin were enough to rouse Harry out of his prolonged sleep. The first thing he noticed was that he had company on both sides – and that he didn't remember going to sleep that way. The second thing he realized was that his bladder was screaming for attention. 'Might as well get it done' he thought. Apparating to the center of the room, Harry almost overshot the point where he wanted to land. Ruefully, as he walked the rest of the way to the bathroom, Harry thought to himself, 'Gotta remember that the ship is moving before trying that shit again.'
It was like Apparating from a moving broom – something that even hardened professions hesitated to do. Forward, backward momentum was not lost during apparition, but rather continued – which made for very, very tricky landings. Downward momentum was, of course, the worst, as the person trying the apparition was also accelerating at 9.8m/sec2 or roughly almost 100 ft. in the very first second, until a terminal velocity of approximately 128 mph was reached. Harry knew about that, as he had experienced first-hand what it was like to free-fall with neither parachute nor immediate hope of rescue by another broom-rider. It was, bluntly, fucking terrifying. His life had been saved by Albus Dumbledore that day and it was the only time when Harry had felt gratitude towards the old man.
Once he had completed his morning ablutions - teeth brushed, showered, and hair both washed and brushed dry - Harry very, very carefully slipped back under the luxurious covers, between the two girls. Hermione woke first and looked at him with love. "Good morning, love". Turning on his side so that he could face her, Harry gently brought his lips to hers, savoring the touch, smell, and taste of her. "I love you".
Even more quietly, Hermione whispered, "I love you too. Wait until you get a taste of Gráinne. She made me cum five times while you slept."
Harry was just starting to formulate a thought about how best to respond when he felt a hand creep over his hip and reach down to encircle his cock, which by now was quite hard and pressing against Hermione.
Hermione felt it too and giggled. "Feels like someone wants to play."
Harry moaned appreciatively and then smiled at her, even as he leaned into a serious snog.
That went on for a long time, even as Gráinne expertly stroked Harry's cock and kissed as much of him as she could reach with her mouth. At some point Hermione pushed Harry onto his back, before attacking his mouth with hers once again. This left Harry's cock available for a more direct kind of attention and Gráinne was quick to take advantage. She seized his cock with both hands and laved it with her tongue before she took the entire head of it in her mouth. The intense wet warmth surrounding his cock caused Harry to moan and flex his hips upwards – which in turn made Hermione break off their kiss so that she could see what was going on. Hermione watched as their new lover worshiped Harry's cock with her mouth and grinned appreciatively.
"She's pretty good with that slutty little mouth of hers, isn't she?"
"Oh fuck. Yes. God, that feels good" Harry's completely honest and unreserved reaction made Hermione giggle. She loved the fact that her husband – the man whom she loved more than life itself – could be so relaxed and feel so good. She was about to say something else when she felt Harry's hands pulling her upwards. Realizing what he wanted to do, she quickly complied. Truly, there was only one place that she loved more than a library and that was sitting on Harry's face. His tongue was pure magic and the things he could do to her were unspeakably wonderful. Squirming, Hermione moaned – for his benefit and for, she had to admit, Gráinne's.
"Oh God, Harry! That's it… lick my pussy! Tongue-fuck me!" This made their new lover pause and look up for a moment. What she saw was Hermione's arse undulating lewdly. It made Gráinne incredibly wet. As she watched, she could see the end of the magical sex-toy that was moving around in the younger girl's arse and promised herself that she was going to get one too. It was a shock when a long-ish, moderately thick, cock-shaped, black metal sex-toy suddenly appeared in her hand. Gráinne could feel the magic in it… and she realized something both profound and wonderful. She had wanted it and her magic had made it! Though she hated to do it, she backed off Harry's cock; releasing it with a wet pop!
"Harry! Hermione! Look!" At first, Harry couldn't hear anything, as Hermione's thighs quite effectively muffled any sound but the moment Hermione moved, as she could hardly keep herself from doing, Harry heard the excitement in both girls' voices.
"What happened?" he asked, curious. "Gráinne's first magic!" Hermione squealed.
"She conjured… This!" Hermione held up the sex toy that their new lover had imagined into existence. Harry took it from Hermione's hand and considered it for a long moment. There were three things that were surprising about the conjuration. One – that it pulsed with magic. Two – that it was metal, which was supposed to be all but impossible to do, even for a seasoned witch or wizard, and three – that it seemed quite substantive and permanent. Usually conjurations were temporary, not good for more than a couple of hours at most. There were plenty of stories around Hogwarts about girls who went on dates wearing conjured knickers. Most but certainly not all of those stories were just that – stories. For a long moment Hermione watched the interplay of thoughts on her Husband's face. Finally she saw what she thought was resolution. Without saying a word, Harry casually reached out and wandlessly summoned his wand. Without thinking about it, he turned it end for end, so that the tip was facing him and he held it out for Gráinne to take from his hand. She hesitated for a moment and then reached out and took it from him. The moment that she did so, the whole room lit up with fey magic. Hermione felt it wash over her and Harry just nodded.
"What just happened" Hermione asked, saving Gráinne the trouble.
"Fawkes gave just two feathers, Hermione, which were destined for wands. One went into mine and the other… gave me my scar. What you just saw was the same kind of light that my wand gave off when I first touched it. Unless I'm completely mistaken Gráinne, you and I share a connection." Hermione was confused, just as Gráinne was.
"Harry? What are you talking about?"
He looked at her and then said, quietly, "Gráinne was somehow touched by Tom Riddle. I don't know it for sure, but I have a guess."
"What?" Hermione asked, not liking the idea that had just sprung, unbidden, to her mind. Harry settled himself and looked at the two of them.
"Gráinne here is either the daughter, but more likely the accidental granddaughter of Tom Riddle. That's why she can use my wand and that's why she can become a cobra. I'll bet pretty much anything I own that Gráinne is a Parselmouth and the true, magical heir of Slytherin."
Harry's bombshell realization put off their lovemaking for a long while, as it provoked a great deal of storytelling and history-sharing. At first, Gráinne had a hard time believing that she could be connected to the most evil dark wizard in a thousand years, but slowly, the pieces came together for her and she realized that many of the odd things that had happened around her over the years made sense if her true lineage was factored into the equation. There was also the bit about the couple that had adopted her and raised her as their own. Aibhlinn and Carrick O'Malley were also squibs, but neither one was gifted in the any of the ways that Gráinne had been.
Her adoptive parents had never said a word about how they had come to have her or about the fact that her magic had been bound. "Really? They never told you anything at all about the circumstances of your adoption?" Hermione was dumbfounded. It was a standard practice in the Muggle world and she had a hard time wrapping her head around this most basic of differences.
"They never denied that I was adopted – that was plain enough just by looking in the mirror – but they never said anything about it and wouldn't let me bring it up at the table or with my teachers."
"Sounds like what I went through" Harry said quietly, with sad look on his face. Gráinne looked at Harry with something like shock, before she saw the look on Hermione's face – the one that told her that Hermione wasn't surprised. Angered, furious even, but not surprised.
This led to another round of stories – but these stories weren't nearly has happy as the ones about their adventures at Hogwarts and those weren't particularly pretty. Gráinne took it all in, fighting tears at times for a boy whom she had just begun to get to know. In the tears she wasn't alone. Hermione shed her share as well and anyone could tell that by the look on her face as Harry spoke that she was plotting murder. Gráinne reached over, took her hand, and said, "whatever it is that you're considering... I'll help."
Wiping her tears away, Hermione smiled at her naked, nubile lover and said, "Thanks." The understanding and friendship that was evident at that moment made the simple statement more than enough.
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Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts - early afternoon, August 12th
For the first time in almost 140 years – since the death of his sister Arianna – Albus Dumbledore felt broken and lost. His precious school was not going to open in the fall – something that hadn't happened since 1942. His colleagues – people he had called friends – had quit. Some of their resignation letters still rang in his ears, as they had been delivered via Howler-mail. All because of one boy, one girl, and a destiny that he believed deep in his soul that could not be avoided. Where did I go so wrong? He thought to himself. The names of the people who had been teachers at the school as well as members of the Order of the Phoenix kept cycling through his thoughts. Could he have led them better? He couldn't see how. Every decision he had made had been for the 'greater good'. Every life sacrificed had been spent for a reason. He firmly believed that. Even Moody's life had been sacrificed for a good cause – maybe the only cause: keeping Harry Potter alive until he could be sent against the Dark Lord.
Dumbledore looked around his office. It really seemed pointless now. Such a big, drafty, lonely office. What was the point, if there weren't going to be students to lead come the fall? None, he supposed. I suppose I should tell Hagrid that we're leaving. He wondered what was going to happen to the gentle half-giant and his larger, fiercer full-giant brother, Grawp. He hoped that they'd make their way away from Hogwarts and towards one of the upland valleys, where it wouldn't be easy to find them.
Once the decision was made, it was easy enough to implement it. A lifetime's worth of things – books, knickknacks, magical bobbles of every sort – obediently packed themselves into large, magical trunks that had suddenly appeared around the office's floor. Once the packing was done, it was a simple matter to miniaturize them and pack them into the interior pocket of his favorite travelling-robe.
After descending the spiral staircase one last time, Albus Dumbledore magically sealed the office with his own blood. There were too many secrets remembered by the walls, remembered by the ghosts of the school, for him to allow them to fall into the enemy's hands.
As he walked down the stairs towards the huge front doors of the school, he remembered his last remaining obligation. One last thing to do. Raising his wand, he began to enchant: PraesidesscholaLorem ipsumad finem! Mandatum vestrumimpleatur. (Guardians of the school, your time is at an end! Your charge is fulfilled.).
At first he couldn't see or hear anything happening, but he knew it was – as he hadn't mis-cast a spell in well over 100 years. Eventually he heard a rhythmic chuff-chuff-chuff-chuff that was unmistakable. A moment later he saw what he had anticipated: a long, snaking column of marching, soulless knights. They passed him, two-abreast, and marched down the front steps and out the front doors of the schools. The front row of soldiers was half-way across the bridge when he saw it happen: a raw, reddish dust gathered on the wind and fell down into the sea that surrounded the castle on three sides. By the time that the last of the 600 was on the bridge, the front ranks were all gone; dust on the wind.
Albus turned his attention away from the sight. It was hard to think that he might never again call the school home, but the pragmatic side of his nature told him that something else waited for him and that in any event, there was no point in staying in a place where he was no longer appreciated.
Walking down the steps one last time, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, looked around. The silence had returned and the wind had carried away the last remains of the school's legendary iron guardians. The Order of the Phoenix was broken and now, so was Hogwarts. He left the great front doors open. There was no point in closing them, he thought. Time to move on. He would go and try to find the boy-who-lived himself. When he did, he promised himself that there would be a reckoning.
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the_scribbler