Not Go Gentle
by cloneserpents
Part Eight
Standard Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all characters are property of J K Rowling, Warner Brothers, Bloomsbury Books, Arthur A. Levine Books, Raincoast Books, Scholastic publishing (et al.) and are used without permission. This work was written purely for noncommercial entertainment; no money is being made.
Title comes from a Dylan Thomas poem: "Do not go gentle into that good night"
WARNING: this work contains depictions of sex (heterosexual, lesbian, bi-sexual, and group acts with both consensual and nonconsensual sex scenes), graphic violence (including but not limited to torture, murder, mutilation, rape, and more). These actions will happen TO and be performed BY major cannon characters (both protagonists and antagonists). This is a horror story so readers should expect evil activity from cannon characters.
Summary: War wages on and Voldemort proves why he is the most feared wizard. Harry struggles against Voldemort's tyranny even with something horrible lurking inside him. Post-HBP. Pairings HP/HG/SB/DG DARK HARRY.
In Susan's darkened bedroom, Carl was slowly and carefully pushing himself rhythmically into the red haired witch. She bit the tip of her tongue. Waves of pleasure washed over her as his organ massaged and stretched her inner walls. Carl had wanted anal sex, but Susan's bottom was still sore from the last time they did it that way, so she convinced him to do it traditionally. She knew that Hermione and Daphne thought having it in the bum was disturbing. They didn't understand just how thrilling it was to be sodomized.
Without warning, the door to Susan's room flew open and slammed against the wall. Susan was about to scream at the intruder for interrupting an intimate moment with her boyfriend until she saw Daphne's face. The black haired witch had tears streaming down her cheeks, and a dreadfully painful look in her eyes.
"What's wrong?" Susan asked and she pulled away from Carl. The wizard groaned pathetically as his member slipped out of Susan and into the cold night air. She grabbed her robe, throwing it over her naked body as she briskly walked to Daphne's side, forgetting her boyfriend and their interrupted shared moment.
"It's Hermione," Daphne choked out. "She's at St. Mungo's. She's been attacked."
"What?" Susan screeched. "How bad is she?"
"I don't know," answered Daphne. "A Healer fire-called me, but he wouldn't say what happened; just that she was roughed up pretty badly."
"Let's go," Susan said, and Daphne nodded. Both witches disappeared with a loud pop, leaving Carl naked and alone.
x
x
Harry couldn't fight it any more; the voice had dug up a need and desire in him. All he could do now was fantasize about what he should've done with Ginny and Cho.
He imagined what it would've been like to bend the Asian witch over a table and, after hiking up her skirt, how it would've felt like to gently pushed himself into her quivering core. Or what it could've felt like to have Ginny suck on his testicles as she massaged his staff. Once, to his immense enjoyment, he even imagined what it would've been like if both witches pleasured him at the same time.
With each fantasy, the unknown thing in the darkness grew and grew. Its power and intensity swelled every time Harry thought of Cho or Ginny in an intimate way. It seemed to feed on his carnal fantasies.
'Why stop with just those two?' the voice asked. 'Why limit your thoughts to Cho and Ginny? What about Hermione?'
'No,' he replied instantly. 'She's my best friend. Besides, she's Ron's girl.'
'Oh, please, like that would ever work out,' the voice challenged. 'Hermione's a wickedly bright and ambitious witch. Ron is nothing more than a lazy lump. He's threatened by her intelligence; that's why he constantly argues with her and automatically discounts her opinion. He's looking for someone to be like his mother; a witch who'll stay at home and take care of him while she raises the kids. Hermione's not that person.
'And she is a woman, not just your friend,' the voice continued. 'You've know what her body looks like under those school robes. You've seen her when she's worn her Muggle clothes. Don't bother denying the facts; your eyes have lingered on the swell of her breasts and her round arse.'
'Shut up,' Harry snapped. He told himself that it wasn't right to think of Hermione in such a detrimental and demeaning way.
'How is that demeaning? You find Hermione attractive,' the voice said. 'She would be flattered if you told her she was beautiful.'
'That's not what you're suggesting,' Harry shot back. 'You're talking about her in a sexual way.'
'And why not?' countered the voice. 'She's a beautiful witch as well as being intelligent and compassionate. She obviously cares for you greatly; and you for her. So why not think about her in a sexual way. It's only natural to do so.'
Harry did not answer. He had never thought about Hermione in that fashion. Hermione had always been very special to him.
'Even more reason to do so,' the voice argued. 'She has a special place in your heart, already. So why not expand on that feeling; make it grow.'
'It'll cheapen her,' Harry stated.
'In what way?' the voice asked. 'You believe that if you think of her as a sexual being, you'll see her as a lesser person? I'm not talking about using her for a cheap thrill and dumping her to the side. I'm talking about a mutually beneficial connection. You've both already connected with each other in an emotional way. That connection would only strengthen if you were to connect on a physical level as well.'
Harry tried once again to ignore the voice, but a sudden desire to run his fingers through Hermione's wild hair came over him. He wanted to feel her soft, warm lips on his.
The desire to kiss her rapidly grew into something much more primal. He wanted to feel her legs wrapped around his hips; to make love to her, make her back arch. He wanted to call out her name as he came deep inside her.
'That's it,' the voice said, gently urging him.
An image entered Harry's mind of him playing with the bookish witch's curly hair as she looked up at him while pleasuring him with her mouth. Harry forced the image out of his mind. He just could not allow himself to think of his friend in such a manner.
x
x
"Ron Weasley did this to you?" M. L. E. Sergeant Wright asked the assaulted witch for the third time. He had arrived shortly after the Healers began to work on Hermione, so he had seen some of the damage, particularly to her head and face. "M. L. E. Officer Ron Weasley?" he questioned yet again.
After Hermione reaffirmed who had raped her and where the attack had happened, Wright went to the Granger home to apprehend "the suspect." It was clear to Hermione that Wright had his doubts as to who had actually raped her. As if the notion of one of his subordinates doing such a thing was preposterous and inconceivable.
The physical wounds she had received during the attack were healed in no time; a few charms and potions and all physical traces of the injuries disappeared, a sensation of pins being jabbed into her gums told Hermione that her tooth was growing back thanks to Skele-Gro. But she still hurt. And there wasn't a magical potion that would ease her anguish. The pain lingered around her chest, like a heavy weight pressing on her heart. Not just the fact that she was raped, but she was raped by the wizard who she considered her boyfriend; a wizard that she had known since they were both children. It felt like Ron had punched a hole into her chest and tore her heart out.
Questions plagued her mind: why did he do it? Was it her fault? Did she do something to provoke the rape? Worst of all; an anguished voice in her head wondered if she had deserved it?
The rational part of Hermione's brain discounted these thoughts. They were a normal emotional reaction to being raped. She told herself that she had done nothing wrong. 'It's just false guilt,' she told herself. 'Every victim goes through this. I did nothing to deserve this!' Even though she believed these negative thoughts to be baseless and untrue and that she was blameless, a small part of her mind continued to feel guilty in some form.
Then there were the dark thoughts. They were similar to the thoughts she had when she heard Pansy Parkinson had murdered a school bus full of children. Her belly twisted as a tiny corner of her mind imagined doing horrible tings to Ron in retribution. She imagined him writhing on the ground before her, begging for mercy. As with her thoughts concerning Pansy, Hermione tired her best to ignore these brutal desires.
A set of hurried footsteps drew Hermione out of her thoughts. She looked up to find her flatmates hurrying toward her bed. Both witches had obviously had been sobbing; their faces were etched with dread, worry, and tear stains.
Susan and Daphne rushed up to Hermione's bed. Both of them looked like lost and frightened children and neither knew what to say. Hermione tried to be brave and attempted to smile and say that she was all right. But her smile faltered, and for the first time that night, Hermione began to sob. Her two friends immediately engulfed her in an embrace and cried as well.
Two hours later, Hermione was discharged. Daphne and Susan refused to leave her side the rest of the night, going so far as to share the same bed as Hermione futilely tried to rest. The emotional pain of the attack, combined with the hatred generated by it, wracked Hermione for hours.
x
x
Tonks stifled a yawn as she trudged up the stairs of her parents' house. It had been a long day at work, and she could think of nothing better to do than crawl into bed, snuggle against Remus, and fall asleep. But the young Auror had promised to have diner with her mother and father weeks ago and she couldn't change her mind now.
"Wotcher, Mum and Dad," she greeted them as she walked into the house. Her parents had been standing a few feet in front of the door, as if they had been waiting impatiently for their daughter to come.
"Welcome home, dear," Andromeda returned with an overly forced smile.
"Mum, is everything okay?" Tonks asked.
"Everything is fine dear," the elder witch returned.
"Look, dear, we've brought you a present," her father, Ted, said stiltedly and pointed to a massive, gift-wrapped box standing off to the side of the parlor. The box dominated the room and was easily large enough to hold a double wardrobe.
"You two are acting weird," Tonks said, still eyeing her parents suspiciously. "Are you sure everything is all right?"
"Stop being such a nosey half-blood and open your present," a witch's cruel voice came from the shadows behind Tonks' parents.
Tonks grabbed her wand as Bellatrix Lestrange strolled out from the darkness and stood behind Ted and Andromeda.
"Mum, Dad, get out of the way!" Tonks ordered while trying to get a clear shot at the evil witch who stood behind them.
"Oh, please, don't make me laugh," Bellatrix said humorlessly. "I bested you and Moody at the same time. What prayer do you have against me when you're alone?"
"I've been practicing," Tonks retorted confidently. Ever since she was trumped in the Department of Mysteries by her evil aunt, the young Auror had redoubled her dueling training.
"Well, I hope you've been practicing a lot," Bellatrix said as she leaned on Andromeda's shoulder, casually dismissing the threat that Tonks posed, "because you'll have to duel him as well."
"Who's him?" Tonks demanded.
"That would be me," a cold voice announced.
Tonks' head whipped to the wrapped present in time to see the most feared dark wizard of her time slither out from behind the box. Lord Voldemort looked at Tonks, much like how a snake looks at its next meal.
"Oh my God," moaned Tonks. Her whole body turned as cold as the grave. She knew that she didn't stand a chance against Voldemort. Fear of her impeding death ravaged her spirit – so much so, that she lost control of her bladder. Hot urine trickled down her cold leg and pooled at her feet.
Voldemort chuckled, thoroughly enjoying the young witch's reaction to merely his presence. He hadn't even drawn his wand and he had already won.
"Don't worry, Nymphadora, we're not here to kill you," Voldemort said as if he was the Auror's best friend. "Bella and I are here to offer you a proposition. As a peace offering, I'll even allow you to keep you wand."
Tonks knew that he was just toying with her when he suggested that she should hold onto her wand instead of making her drop it. Voldemort's skill at dueling was legendary. Tonks realized that it would be pointless to even attempt to fight him.
"Let's unwrap your present shall we," offered Voldemort. He pulled his wand and waved it if front of the wrapped box. The bright paper and frilly bows were ripped off the box, as if dozens of invisible hands pulled at it.
There in the open faced box, dangling like marionettes stored in a trunk, hung her parents. Ted and Andromeda were naked and bound with lengths of barbwire. The metal prods dug in and punctured their skin causing tiny rivers of blood to slowly drip down their bodies. A short length of the wire was tied across their mouths, acting as a cruel gag. It cut harshly into their cheeks. Judging by the damage to their mouths, it was apparent to Tonks that every time they had tried to open their mouths, the barbwire dug into their cheeks and lips. Her parents' eyes, wide and filled with pain, stared at Tonks.
The Auror looked between the two sets of parents; the ones savagely bound in the box and the others who stood in front of Bellatrix, smiling unkindly back at Tonks. She knew that the couple that stood with Bellatrix was nothing more than fakes; frauds hiding behind her parent's features.
"Polyjuice is such a useful potion," Bellatrix said while sneering at her niece.
"Please let my parents go," Tonks pleaded with her head hanging low. She couldn't bear to see the pain that her mother and father were suffering.
"Unfortunately I can't do that, Nymphadora," Voldemort said without regret. "You see, I need you to do something for me and I'm using your dear parents as payment for that service." Voldemort glided to Tonks and stood next to her. "If you do as I say, then your parents will live. If you don't, well then, I'll make you watch as they die very painful and drawn out deaths."
"What is it you want me to do?" Tonks asked with hot tears spilled down her face.
"That's the spirit," cheered Voldemort, "ready and eager; just what I like to see in one of my followers."
Tonks' heart felt as if it had stopped beating. Her eyes grew even wider in terror.
"That's right, Nymphadora, you are going to become one of my Death Eaters," confirmed Voldemort. "You will act as a spy and do my bidding, or your parents will suffer terribly.
"We will keep them in our care at my castle, which is protected under the Fidelius Charms obviously, to insure that you do as commanded. These two," Voldemort pointed to Ted and Andromeda's duplicates next to Bellatrix; "will use polyjuice so that no one will realize that something's amiss.
"And don't think about trying to get help from one of your friends in the Order. I have another spy who has an eye on both the Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix. If this spy even thinks that you are acting strangely, not only would your parents suffer, but I'll be forced to deal with your werewolf lover as well," he threatened.
"If, after a while, I feel that you have done a good enough job, I will free your parents," Voldemort concluded.
Tonks let out a sob, knowing that there was nothing to do other than give into Voldemort's wishes. To do otherwise would kill the people she loved most. She also knew that his promise of releasing her mother and father was slim at best, but she realized that it was the only chance she had.
"Now, kneel," Voldemort ordered.
With her knees trembling, Tonks lowered herself in front of the evil wizard.
"Very good, Nymphadora, now give me your left arm," he commanded. "It is time for you to receive my mark."
Tonks cried out in pain as the Dark Mark was burned into her flesh.
"In a few weeks' time, Bellatrix will come to you and you will do as she says," Voldemort said while Tonks gripped her left arm in agony. "This will be a test. If you complete this test, then your parents will live for another day. If not, they will die."
x
x
The first thing Ron saw when he woke up was his supervisor, Sergeant Wright, standing over him. Then Ron felt pain. His chest and face were on fire.
"Sit still," Wright ordered. "Your nose is smashed and a lot of your ribs are broken."
"What the hell happened?" Ron asked. His head was heavy and it was difficult to think clearly.
"Just shut up," Wright barked. "I telling you this as your boss; don't say an effing word. Not one word until you've talked with a barrister. Do you understand, Weasley? Don't say a single word."
Ron attempted to nod his head in the affirmative. But his head hurt so much that the best he could do was grimace.
Wright placed a Portkey around Ron's neck. The sudden jerk behind his navel sent jolts of pain through his head and chest. After a very uncomfortable and painful trip, Ron arrived in the M. L. E. holding cells.
Two M. L. E. Healers approached Ron. One performed some Bone Mending Charms on him while the other poured various Healing Potions down his throat.
While the Healer administered the third vial, Wright arrived in the cell.
"I'll contact your father, Weasley," he said solemnly. "He'll get you a barrister."
x
x
Draco was going mad. It had been weeks since the last time he had been intimate with Pansy. She had made it a point to stay away from him as much as possible. She went so far as to only speak to him when her duties as a Death Eater demanded it. The couple had gone on several Muggle hunting parties in that time. The screams and cries of their victims sung to Draco. Each and every time, he had grown so excited that his loins begged for release. But he could never gain that release because Pansy would not touch him.
He needed help; he had to get through to Pansy and tell her that she was the only witch for him. He had thought about speaking to another witch, to get a feminine point of view. Millicent came to mind, but he dismissed her as a dim witted fool. Draco then considered talking to his mother, only to realize that discussing sex with her would make him very uncomfortable. That left his aunt, Bellatrix.
He knocked on her door and waited for her to answer.
"What do you want?" she asked in an annoyed way. The witch was still disturbed she had been forced to associate with her blood-traitor sister and her mudblood of a husband and worthless daughter. Even though it was necessary in order to obtain the half-blood metamorphmagus as a spy, Bellatrix felt dirty for having been in contact with them.
"I… I need your help," he requested, hesitantly.
"Don't tell me; you need help with your love life?" Bellatrix asked.
"How did you know?"
"That silly bint of yours came sobbing to me a while back," Bellatrix said with annoyance. "She was whining that you used a Muggle."
The blond wizard was stunned. He had hurt his Pansy so much that she sought out Bellatrix for guidance. His betrayal must have been terrible for Pansy.
"Don't go soft on me, boy!" Bellatrix snapped when she saw the look of sorrow and regret blossom on Draco's face. "You are a Death Eater. You're to strike fear in those who are weaker than us. You're not to lament and pine away for a silly girlfriend."
"But I hurt her," Draco said guiltily.
"She took offense that you tortured a Muggle sexually," she shot back. "So you shoved your cock in a Muggle. What's the big deal about that? I could understand if you shagged another witch, but it was just a Muggle. A Muggle isn't a witch or a wizard, so it's not like you cheated on her.
"She should've been proud at the suffering you caused that Muggle," Bellatrix continued. "Pansy has to realize that wizards do such things in the heat of the moment. It's not personal nor should it be taken as such."
Draco reflected on his aunt's words. It was true; he felt nothing for those Muggles that he had used. They were just toys to him. But Pansy was special; she was the witch with whom Draco wanted to have children. There had to be a way he could show Pansy the truth of this.
"Could you talk to her?" requested Draco. "Make her come to her senses."
"Aren't you a Death Eater?" she asked patronizingly.
"Yes I am," Draco said, offended by her question.
"Then act like one," she snapped. "Don't sulk around and whine like some lovelorn teenager. Be a man! Take what you want. If Pansy doesn't see reason, you force her."
"How?"
"Oh, for pity's sake," Bellatrix groaned. "Use a love potion. A strong one."
"That's it," Draco said as realization dawned on him. "Perhaps I'll slip her Amortentia. That way she could look past my transgressions and see how much we love each other."
"You make me sick," Bellatrix hissed venomously. "You want to 'slip' her a potion so she'll forgive your 'transgressions'? Why must I point out that you did nothing to be ashamed about? You fucked a Muggle; that means nothing because a Muggle means less than nothing! Pansy should be the one seeking forgiveness for letting that trouble her. And you plan on slipping her the love potion like some smitten teenager. You're a Death Eater; act like one, damn it! A Death Eater takes what is his! You hand her the potion and order her to drink it. If she doesn't take it; you force it down her throat!"
"But I could never do that to her!"
"And why not?" she shot back, her voice full of cruelty. "She was the one who has been hurting you; denying your needs for because she doesn't understand you. She should be punished for that. You know what? Don't offer her the potion. Instead, bust into her room, pin her to the ground and force the potion down her throat. She deserves to be manhandled for her asinine actions."
Draco's face fell and Bellatrix felt an odd pang of guilt. Unlike her sister, Andromeda, who entered into an unnatural union and bore an anomaly, Draco was attempting to mend his relationship with a proper, pure blood witch. In order to continue their proud race and their rich traditions, Bellatrix came to realize that she needed to help her nephew. So, the witch decided to help him achieve this.
Bellatrix walked forward and placed her hand on Draco's shoulder. She said in an uncharacteristic soft and kind tone; "Once you do this, she'll understand that she was wrong. She will let you be the wizard you were meant to be."
x
x
The barrister wasn't much help. He had worked for Arthur before, but his specialty was tax law. He had no idea what to do in criminal cases. The only thing he could offer Ron was the same advice that Wright had given him: "Don't talk to anybody until I find a criminal barrister." He left Ron, and a majority of the Weasleys, in the holding cell with a promise of finding a barrister who could help.
Some of Ron's family had come straight away upon hearing the news. Arthur was openly supportive of his son; offering words of advice such as "Hang in there" and "Don't let it get you down." Molly wept hysterically at her son's predicament. Fred, George, and Bill spoke words of encouragement, but they had suspicion in their eyes. Even though they knew their brother wasn't capable of such actions, they also knew that Hermione wouldn't just make a story like this up. Ginny remained silent until the family started to say their goodbyes.
"I'm going to stay just a bit," Ginny said when her parents and brothers made their way to the exit.
Once Ron and his sister were alone, he demanded; "What the hell happened?"
"I don't know," Ginny said with shock. "You did everything the way she wanted, didn't you?"
"Yeah, I did everything she wanted. Right down to the letter," Ron snapped. "I made as real as possible. And now she's claiming I actually raped her!"
"What happened exactly?" she asked.
"I watched those Pensieve memories she gave me," Ron began. "Then we did it. Just the way she wanted; I was rough and smacked her around a bit. But once I finished, she kicked me and then hit me with a Clubbing Hex."
Ginny, who had been pacing back and forth in front of Ron's cell, was lost in thought.
"Was kicking the crap out of me some sort of part of her little fantasy?" Ron asked.
Ginny paused in her pacing and her eyes grew wide, as if some truth was reveled to her.
"What did you just say?" she asked.
"I was just wondering if beating me up was part of her little fantasy," Ron repeated.
"Oh Merlin, I can't believe I didn't think of that before," Ginny said, her eyes wide with realization. "It's so clear now."
"Didn't think of what?" demanded Ron.
"Don't you get it, Ron? Hermione's always been bossy," Ginny stated. Her brother shrugged his shoulders, telling her he agreed with her, but not seeing her point. "She has to be in control. All the time. It's part of her nature. That's why I thought she was into this rape fantasy. It could've been a moment where she would let some else have control, with a nasty part of her turned on by that loss of power. But now I see it was just another form of control for her."
"What the hell are you saying?" Ron asked. He was confused, and because of the predicament he found himself in, the young wizard had no patience.
"Ron, this whole thing is just another way for Hermione to be the one in control," Ginny explained. "She told us that she wanted to be raped. But then she cries rape. Her claim gets you get chucked into Azkaban. She's controlling it all. It's some sort of twisted little kick for her."
"You're saying that she faked the idea of a fantasy so that she could accuse me of rape. To get me thrown in Azkaban?" he asked disbelievingly. "Hermione would never do that."
"Think about it Ron, she has always wanted to control what you do," Ginny pointed out. "She's told you what to do, everything from when and how to do your homework, to your adventures, and even that stupid S.P.E.W. Hermione is a control freak. She needs to have it. Without it she's nothing more that a bookworm with bad hair. This whole thing is the ultimate form of control. By accusing you of rape, she is controlling you by having you incarcerated in Azkaban and destroying your life! She is, literally, in control of your life!""
Ron was about to argue when he remembered all those times Hermione told him what to do, and even what to think. He recalled that almost every time he and Hermione were together, she was ordering him around; telling him to do this or that, down to every last detail. Ginny's words sunk in, and Ron imagined Hermione giggling over the fact that she was going to send him to Azkaban.
"Holy shit," Ron murmured as he went cold and his face turned pale. The gravity of his situation crashed down on him like a ton of bricks. "You're — you're right."
"I bet you that right now Hermione is laughing over this bind she's put you in," Ginny said. "She's got to be getting some sort of perverse pleasure out of this."
"We'll just tell everyone the truth," Ron said desperately. "Tell them that she planned this. That she gave me those Pensieve memories. That she told us of her fantasy about being raped."
"That won't work, Ron," Ginny said sadly. "We can't prove she gave us those memories. I can say that she did, but I can't prove it. I should have realized something was up when she handed them to me in a paper sack. There's probably no proof that she ever even owned those Pensieve memories. Even if I tell everyone the truth, that she gave them to me, she'll simply deny it and there'll be no way we can prove that she's lying. When it comes to the rape memories, it'll be her word against ours."
"You're right; your word and mine," Ron said, a gleam of hope was almost in his grasp and he reached for it. "The two of us against her; that should count for something, shouldn't it?"
Ginny shook her head sadly. "I'm sorry Ron, she's not just claiming you raped her, she has physical evidence that proves you raped her. You had rough sex with her. She had the wounds to prove it. Against that, our word counts for nothing. She thought this through. She laid a prefect trap. And we played right into her conniving hands."
Ron collapsed to the floor. He was going to Azkaban as a rapist. His girlfriend had used him to play out some sick little control fantasy. And now his life was ruined!
"There's a chance that we might get you out of going to Azkaban," Ginny said, trying to reassure her brother. "But we'd have to play the courts' sympathy."
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"First, we say you were under the Imperius Curse," Ginny sounded. "There's no way for anyone to disprove that. But, we'll have to play up our only advantage to the court."
"How do we do that?"
"Not only do we show them that you're a good wizard; one who is a benefit to society," Ginny continued. "I mean, you're already a M. L. E. Officer, so that should help. Mum and Dad are in good standing with the Ministry so that'll help you as well. But you'll need to go one step further. You should get married."
"What?" he blurted out. "I don't think Hermione would be too keen on that idea. Besides, I'll be happy if I never to see that manipulative bitch ever again."
"I'm not talking about her, moron," Ginny said. "Hear me out; most Magistrates are old fashion pure-blood witches and wizards who believe in pure-blood families. If you play up to them and their beliefs, they might become more lenient. Show them that because of this incident; where you were a victim of the Imperius, you've decided to embrace the old ways of magical society and move on. And by marrying a pure-blood witch, you'll show the Magistrates that you are a prime example of to their ideal member of a good society."
"So you're suggesting that I find some pure-blood witch in the next few days and marry her. That way the Magistrate hearing my case will think I'm a good, pure-blood wizard?" Ron asked for clarification.
"Exactly," she replied. "And I know of an eligible witch: Mafalda."
"Mafalda? She's our cousin!" Ron barked.
"She's our second cousin's daughter; that makes her our third cousin or our second cousin, once removed, I think —I can never get them straight," Ginny argued. "Her folks have been trying to marry her off for a while. They'll jump at the chance. Ron, you need all the help you can get. And marrying a pure-blood witch will do a lot more help than you can imagine."
Ron contemplated Ginny's idea. It was desperate plan, but he was a desperate wizard. After a moment of thought, Ron nodded, signaling that he agreed with her plan.
"Great, I'll approach Mum and have her contact Mafalda's folks," Ginny said as she walked to the exit. "Stay strong, big brother. We'll get you out of this."
x
x
She, Harry, and Ron were making their way through the winding corridors of Hogwarts to their next lesson. Strolling by many magical paintings and suits of armor that lined the halls, Hermione spoke about what the instructor had taught them in their previous lesson. It didn't concern Hermione that she could neither recall what class they had come from nor what class they were heading to. Such things in dreams are inconsequential.
The young witch felt happy and safe. Within these walls, and with her two best friends, all the troubles of the world did not matter to her.
But, when the three friends turned a corner, Hermione could feel something. It was just to the side of their little group, lurking somewhere near the wall. Looking in the direction of where she felt this presence, Hermione only saw the old stone wall of the corridor. Even though she couldn't see it, Hermione knew that the presence wanted to hurt her.
Whenever Hermione felt threatened, she tried to reach out to Harry. She was always grabbing his arm or stepping behind his back. But in this dream, when her hand went to hold on to her best friend, he was just out of reach. Hermione quickened her pace so that she was well within arm's reach of the black haired wizard. But when she reached for him, somehow he was a few inches away from her outstretched arm.
Ron chuckled at Hermione's worries as the three friends continued to walk down the hall. He said in a light and happy tone; "There you go again, 'Mione, blowing everything out of proportion."
Hermione knew that unlike Ron, Harry would take the threat that loomed somewhere close by seriously. For some reason however, Harry seemed oblivious to the danger. He was facing away from Hermione, looking straight ahead. All Hermione had to do was call to Harry and he would notice the menacing presence. But when Hermione tried to speak, her voice was lost and no sound escaped her lips.
She could feel it encroaching upon her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as if someone was standing right behind her. Once again, Hermione tried to take hold of Harry. But like before, he was frustratingly out of reach.
"You're way too tense," Ron said with a blasé attitude. "You just need to lie back and take it."
Without warning, Ron's hands wrapped around Hermione's arm like a steel vice. Hermione dug her heels into the ground and tried to pull herself free. Ron chuckled at the brunette's attempts, saying with a bright smile; "This is for your own good. Besides, you deserve it."
As Ron began to drag Hermione to the menacing presence, she tried shouting to Harry for help. Like before, her voice was missing and Harry continued to look straight ahead.
Suddenly, a gapping black hole appeared where the presence was felt. It was a void in space that threatened to swallow Hermione up. And Ron was dragging her toward it.
She tried prying his hands off her arm. But her fingers just passed through Ron as if her hand was made of mist or vapor.
Before he entered the void, Ron looked back at Hermione and said cheerfully; "This will be so much fun. Just you wait. You'll like it."
And he stepped into the blackness and was no more. The void had swallowed him whole.
Hermione screamed frantically as she was pulled to the blackness. Her feet touched the void and her entire body went numb as if it had sucked up every feeling she had. The void gobbled up her legs and Hermione woke up screaming.
The witch's frightened cry woke up Daphne and Susan who had been sleeping on either side of Hermione. Like the many times Hermione had woken up screaming over the pass few nights, the two witches quickly embraced her. They could tell her that everything was okay, but such words would be futile because they were falsehoods at best. So, Daphne and Susan just held onto their friend, hoping that their love and compassion would help her in her suffering.
She hated this feeling; the pain, anger, and helplessness. It ate away at her. As before, a part of Hermione's mind wove images of revenge. And slowly, ever so slowly, Hermione began to welcome these thoughts.
x
x
The lab and testing facility that Godfrey had supplied Blaor was not ideal. It was nothing more than a ramshackle shack with a few rooms on a small spit of land off the coast. But Minister Godfrey didn't want to draw unwanted attention. He therefore reasoned it would be best to run the tests on Blaor's potion in secret, and this lowly shack in the middle of nowhere would be perfect.
Blaor was ecstatic after he had talked with the Minister. Godfrey, to his credit, saw the benefits of Blaor's plans and had discreetly given the go-ahead. Discretion was required as to not alert the narrow minded members of the Wizengamot who had ignorantly vetoed his plan.
The potion master was given three assistants and ample supplies to create a test batch of his potion. Next, the Minister had acquired Muggle test subjects for Blaor. Blaor didn't ask where Godfrey had gotten them simply because he didn't care.
The five Muggles had a varied and diverse background, making a perfect spectrum with which to test his potion. The group was made up of three men: a successful business man in his early fifties, a low-income factory worker aged twenty-six, and a convicted felon of thirty-one — and two women: a dedicated twenty year old university student and a thirty-eight year old housewife and mother.
Blaor and his assistants observed the Muggles for two weeks and took notes on their actions before they were given the potion. This was done so that Blaor would have a solid basis to judge the effectiveness of his creation. Most of these observations occurred when the Muggles were allowed out of their separate cells for an hour each day. All they seemed to talk about was how they were being held against their will.
The business man, Jonathan Waterston, was a man who was driven by success and tried to bribe Blaor and his assistants with large sums of money. The housewife, Jane Combs, loved her children dearly and often begged to be allowed to go home to tend to them. Eric Simmons, the factory worker, who was a bit dim and slow; was convinced that the predicament he was in was brought on in retaliation over a labor dispute and had promised to drop his grievances if he was released. Lisa Brown, the college student would often cry and weep, fearing that her captors would harm her in heinous and despicable ways. But Jack Niederriter intrigued Blaor the most. Niederriter was a hardened criminal who had spent most of his adult life in various prisons for assorted crimes. Unlike the other Muggles who begged or pleaded for release, Niederriter would threaten Blaor and his assistants with bodily harm. "I'll cut yer bleedin' ears off, I will," he'd snarl. On two separate occasions, the Muggle even attempted to lunge at Blaor. Niederriter was easily felled with a Stunner. His boasts and actions often humored Blaor. The notion that an unarmed Muggle like Niederriter could harm a trained wizard was laughable. But by the same token, Niederriter's actions reinforced the reason why Blaor had to do this. One Muggle may not be much of a threat to a wizard. But when they numbered in the millions and with their deadly weapons such as explosives and firearms, they could become a considerable threat to magical people.
When he was satisfied that the Muggles' personalities and actions had been properly documented, Blaor moved on to the next step: testing the potion. The formula the potion master had created was so potent that all it took was one drop of it to properly taint fifty gallons of water.
A few days after the Muggles had unknowingly taken the potion, they became much more affable. On that day, they exited their cells for their hour of observations and immediately started begging for their freedom as they normally did.
"Silence!" Blaor ordered. The Muggles stopped their whining so quickly it was if someone had thrown a switch. One second they were chattering like a pack of monkeys in a cage. The next moment found them standing silently like a group of obedient and well behaved school children.
Blaor started out slowly with simple commands. With the Combs woman, he asked for her to reveal a secret. She offered some drivel about how she knew her husband had an affair with his secretary but had said nothing because she was afraid she would lose her children if she filed for divorce. Blaor then told Simmons to wash the floor of the facilities with a toothbrush. The Muggle smiled happily and said, "Right away, Guv."
Slowly, Blaor began giving the Muggles increasingly difficult orders. He had one of his assistants tell the Brown girl to drop out of school. She immediately agreed to the idea and pledged she'd do so the first chance she got. When Blaor asked her why she was going to leave college, the girl replied "I'm certain I've learned enough; I'll get a good job easily enough with what I already know."
Blaor and his assistants did not order Niederriter beyond telling him to be quiet and remain calm. Blaor did this on purpose; he was saving this defiant Muggle for a particular test.
Some time over the next week, Blaor suspected that one of his assistants used the effects of the potion to his benefit to seduce the Brown girl. He had walked in on the pair and their clothes were disheveled and their complexions' flushed. The fact that the assistant used the Muggle's lack of resistance for his own sexual gratification did not upset Blaor. He reasoned that it was further proof that his potion worked. He was upset, however, that his assistant had, by being intimate with the Muggle, could have damaged the scientific approach of the test.
After a week of trials, Blaor decided it was time to put his potion to the ultimate test. He gathered his Muggle subjects together in one large room. He sat at a small table and ordered the violent Niederriter to sit across from him. After the gruff Muggle took his seat, Blaor produced a large knife from his robes and placed it on the table in front of Niederriter.
"Pick it up," Blaor commanded. There was a fire in Niederriter's eyes that told Blaor that the Muggle wanted to use it to murder his captors.
Niederriter snatched the blade up. However, before he had a chance to thrust it at Blaor, the wizard commanded; "Stab yourself in the abdomen."
In the blink of an eye, Niederriter drove the knife into his stomach in one swift, smooth motion. The Muggle grunted in pain as the blade punctured his skin and intestines. The other Muggles gathered around the table reacted in fear and panic. The women screamed in terror while the other two men futilely tried to escape.
"Calm down," Blaor ordered causing the Muggles to instantaneously stop. He turned back to Niederriter and asked, "Why did you do that?"
"'Cuz I had the blade," he said simply, as if it was perfectly natural to stab himself in the stomach. Furthermore, Niederriter acted as if it was completely normal to have a blade jutting out of his belly. He didn't seem to mind that his life was ebbing away.
"What would you do if I asked you to twist the blade?" Blaor asked.
In response, Niederriter grunted as he savagely turned the knife in his belly, opening his wound even more. In a few seconds, the Muggle would be dead.
Blaor turned to his other subjects who were calmly watching Niederriter die like it was some dull, everyday occurrence.
"Doesn't it bother you that this man is committing suicide?" the wizard asked the other Muggles.
"No," one replied easily.
"You told him to," another said, as if Niederriter would be in the wrong if he hadn't followed Blaor's suggestion. The other Muggles nodded their heads in agreement.
Blaor had to suppress a shout of joy over this victory. His potion was a success! Now magical people could live their lives without fear of Muggles. A witch or wizard could walk in the open and not have to fear about hiding themselves from Muggles!
x
x
Susan picked up the post that the owl had just dropped off. It was addressed to her with elegant script. She opened and read:
"Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Weasley are proud to invite you to the joining of Ronald Bilius Weasley with Mafalda Morganna Prewett, beloved daughter of James and Ellyn Prewett on..."
Susan dropped the invitation in disbelief. As far as she knew, Ron was still in custody and awaiting the trail for raping Hermione. And yet, he was now planning on marrying some witch Susan had never even heard of before.
At first, she thought of just tearing up the invitation and not telling Hermione about it. She was concerned that such news would be a blow to her friend. But Susan realized that Hermione deserved to know. She exited her room and found both Daphne and Hermione preparing dinner. With a sad look on her face, Susan handed the invitation to Hermione. Daphne read it over the brunette's shoulder.
"Oh, that son of a bitch!" cursed Daphne. "He's getting married?"
Calmly, Hermione set the invitation down on the counter. "He's probably doing this to show the courts that he's some sort of decent and honorable wizard," she speculated.
"Why'd you get this?" Daphne asked Susan, pointing to the invitation as if it were a vile thing.
"I suppose Arthur sent me one because he used to work with my Aunt in the Ministry," Susan replied. "I don't think he knows I'm friends with Hermione. I doubt they would've sent this to me if they did."
"I say we go castrate that bastard. That way this Mafalda bird won't have to deal with his sick desires," Daphne snarled. "Who the hell is she anyway?"
"Ron's mother's maiden name is Prewett," Hermione said. "She's probably some cousin of his."
Daphne continued to suggest various forms of punishment for Ron, while Susan remained silent. She felt as if she betrayed Hermione on some level by receiving an invitation to the wedding of the man who had raped her.
Hermione stared at the invitation for a moment. There was a time when she imagined being the one that Ron married. She remembered dreaming about holding his hands as they exchanged vows. How she had an elegantly worded speech where she professed her love for him. And he, being Ron, would utter a very short and direct "I love you and, um, can't wait to spend the rest of our lives together."
But now that dream was replaced by a nightmare; a nightmare born out of reality. Even though it had been weeks since the rape, she could still feel him thrusting. The hairs on her neck prickled at the thought of his hot breath as he forced himself into her. The disgusting image of his satisfied look as he ejaculated was still was fresh in her mind. She wanted to smash his face in order to wipe that image of his pleased smile from her mind.
"Fuck him," Hermione said toward the invitation. "Fuck him and everyone who associates with him."
Susan, feeling relief when Hermione didn't blame her for the invitation, attempted to lighten the mood by saying, "But can we still do what Daphne recommended. You know, castrate him."
Seeing the smiles on her friends' face helped to make Hermione feel a slight bit better. She decided to add to Susan's lighthearted comment.
"Why not? It's not like she'll be missing anything," the brunette witch said, holding up her hand. She placed her fore-finger and thumb apart a few inches, implying the length of Ron's manhood.
No one could say whose idea it was to bring out the bottle of fire-whiskey. They had forgotten such a trivial detail after each one had taken their third shot. The three sat on the floor in front of the couch passing the bottle around for a bit before Daphne and Hermione slowed their pace and were able to keep a level buzz. But Susan was not one to hold back. While the other two witches were sipping whiskey and cola, she was downing shot after shot.
"If that bastard gets out of prison to get married, we should crash the wedding," Susan slurred. "You know; throw a couple of jinxes at him. Make his dick even smaller."
"He isn't actually that small," Hermione admitted as she took another sip from her cocktail. "I mean I just don't want to seem overly bitter."
"Hermione, honey, you of all people have a right to be bitter," Daphne said and patted the brunette on the knee.
"Yes, proclaim to the world that Ron Weasley is a dickless putz," Susan agreed. "Hung like a bowtruckle. You've got the right, no – the duty to belittle the bastard."
"Oh, don't worry; I don't have a problem telling people what Ron did. I just don't want people to think I'm fixated on size," Hermione defended. "Besides, it's not like I have much experience to compare sizes. Ron was the only one."
"First of all, no one will blame you if you insult Ron, even if it is an exaggeration. Second... onto a lighter, and more enjoyable topic; willys," Daphne said. Her face was red from a combination of alcohol and the naughty subject she was encroaching. "Size isn't everything. Sure bigger is better, but not always."
"I dated a bloke once, he had the 'dick of death'..." Susan began.
"Excuse me; 'dick of death'?" Hermione interrupted.
"Yeah, big fucking thing," Susan said and held up her hands to show just how big. "I swear to Merlin I thought I was going to die when we first did it. But when it was all said and done...done fairly quickly I might add... he was one of the worst shags I've ever had. He just stuffed his cock in me and pumped away. No finesse or skill. He relied strictly on his size to satisfy me. And it wasn't enough on its own."
"The third wizard I slept with had an average sized set, but he sure knew how to use it," Daphne added. "He didn't just bang away. He took his time to make sure I enjoyed it."
"So you're saying that skill and talent are better than just sheer size?" Hermione asked and took another drink.
"The perfect wizard would have a nice sized willy and would have skill," Susan said and toasted her comment with a long swig straight from the fire-whiskey bottle.
"Size and talent aside, there's another aspect," Daphne added. "Love."
"Do tell," Hermione pressed.
"I had a boyfriend, back in our fifth year. Named Henry Smythwick. He was a sixth year Ravenclaw," Daphne began. "We dated in secret 'cuz my housemates would've murdered me if they found out I was associating with a bloke from another house. I was so much in love with him. In love I tell you. I dreamed about him every night. When we finally had sex, I found out he was a bit stunted down there. But you know what, it didn't bother me. 'Cuz I loved him. Every time we were together, it was special and it touched my heart. It was like magic."
"So what happened? If you were so much in love, why aren't you two still together?" asked Hermione.
"I was in love with him, but he wasn't in love with me," Daphne said with a bemused smile. "The fucker cheated on me. Stuck his tiny pecker in some seventh year slut from Ravenclaw. The point I'm trying to make here is if there's a connection with a bloke, it doesn't matter if he's small. There are ways of dealing with that."
"But if there was a bloke with a big thing, who had skill, and you loved; he'd be the perfect one, right?" Hermione asked, smiling.
"Oh definitely," Daphne said. "Connecting on all three levels so to speak. That would be the perfect wizard."
Susan looked as if she was open to add something to the conversation when the alcohol kicked in. The red haired witch flopped backwards and fell asleep.
Daphne's eyes lingered on her unconscious friend.
Leaning over to Daphne, Hermione asked "So, you're looking for the perfect wizard and not the perfect witch?"
The black haired witch blushed and said in without shame, "Look at her. She's beautiful in every possible way. She's smart and funny and her smile can light up an entire room. And she has fantastic tits." Hermione smiled at her friend's words. This was the first time Daphne had openly admitted that she was attracted to Susan. She continued her praise of the red haired witch. "She not a twig, ya know. Yeah, I'm skinny, but I've got small tits. Some of these witches use engorgement charms, they look like twigs with quaffles glued to their chests. Silly looking they are. Susan here is deliciously proportionate: big tits with nice wide hips,something to grab hold of, and an enticing, ample bottom to boot."
"So if you're attracted to Susan, does that mean you don't like blokes anymore?" Hermione asked, genuinely curious.
"I like wizards plenty. Their smell, the way they feel inside me. But if Susan woke up right now and said that she wanted me and me exclusively, I'd probably give up on wizards forever," Daphne said. "I wasn't exaggerating when I was talking about being intimate with someone you love; it is truly a wonderful feeling."
"Have you been with a witch before?"
"Yeah, after Henry cheated on my I hooked up with Megan Jones just to piss him off," Daphne answered. "I did it out of revenge at first, but then I found out I liked being with a witch as much as I like being with a wizard."
Daphne pulled her attention away from Susan and turned to Hermione. "I know this is sensitive, but what about you? Are you giving up on wizards?"
It was a valid question that Hermione had not yet considered.
"I'm not going to say that all men are rapists like Ron, but I can't say right now that it wouldn't be difficult to be with a man," she answered. "I'm afraid that trying to be intimate would bring up what happened to me that night."
"You need time," Daphne said.
"Yes, definitely," Hermione said. "But even with time, I don't know if I could ever trust someone again. Ron was one of my best friends for years. And he betrayed me so completely. I never imagined that a friend could do that to me."
Hermione felt another fit of sadness and anger coming on. Daphne reached out and gently ran her fingers through Hermione's kinky hair.
"What you need is someone who is kind and compassionate," Daphne said softly. "Someone to show you what it feels like to be loved properly; not hurt you."
A single tear escaped Hermione's eye and Daphne brushed it away with her thumb.
Hermione needed to be shown, she knew it. She needed someone to repair the damage in her heart that Ron had caused. Maybe it was the alcohol or it may have been Daphne's words combined with her hands touching Hermione's face and hair, but the brunette had a sudden compulsion, and she acted upon it. She leaned in further and placed her lips to Daphne's.
x
x
Things were progressing nicely. His Death Eaters had just accomplished over a dozen raids against wizard and Muggle targets during the past week. The Muggles were retaliating; abducting and capturing any witch or wizard they could get their hands on. But Voldemort did not fear them. His Death Eaters would strike and then disappear before the Muggles could react. That meant that the Muggles were capturing citizens of the Ministry, thereby causing more harm to Voldemort's enemy. The Ministry had issued many warnings urging witches and wizards to stay away from Muggles for their own safety. In essence the Muggles were helping Voldemort. The complications caused by the Muggles and the various Death Eater attacks had the Ministry reeling.
Once Voldemort's pet bonded with Potter and returned, he would crush the Ministry once and for all. His pet will kill all of his enemies. Voldemort's heart raced with excitement.
To brighten Voldemort's mood even further, a letter came from his spy. The spy had successfully derailed the Mudblood in her search for Potter. Even though Voldemort knew that Granger's efforts were pointless at this time because Potter was in another dimension being transformed into his loyal pet, the Mudblood needed to have been punished for her defiance.
The spy's message also went on to state how much she loved and adored Voldemort. Such petty things were below him, but Voldemort considered what would happen if he cultivated that silly emotion in his spy. Clearly, she was already fiercely devoted to him. But if he stroked the embers of her passion, she could truly be a valuable tool, willing to do anything for him. Conversely, this could also backfire on him. If he were to toy with the spy, she may become dependant on his affections and possible grow weak and absent minded; in Voldemort's experience, affection and love made people do such things.
Voldemort came to the conclusion that he would reserve using the spy's affection until he saw the moment to use it to his advantage.
x
x
The simple kiss had turned into a passionate one leading to gentle caressing. This, in turn, led to Hermione and Daphne sleeping together. Their judgment had not been overly impaired by the alcohol; it had just lowered their inhibitions.
For Hermione, their night of intimacy was a healing process full of passionate kisses and loving touches. It touched Daphne's heart and made her feel wonderful to make Hermione so happy. It was more than just a simple fling; the next morning, after waking up in each others' arms, they began to kiss and touch once more.
The next night found them sharing the same bed again. It was if they had both found something in each other. Their kisses and touches made them tingle and moan in pleasure. But it wasn't just a physical attraction either. Hermione found the trust and love that had been torn away; Daphne had found someone to share her thoughts, hopes and dreams.
Each time they made love, Hermione grew more and more confident. A few nights later, Hermione found herself taking the lead in their lovemaking. She would tend to initiate their intimacy and direct their actions more than Daphne did from that point on.
A week after their first night together, as the two lovers lay together, basking in their shared afterglow, Hermione asked "Is there anything you'd change about me?"
"What kind of a question is that?" returned Daphne, running her fingertips over her lover's mouth which was still puffy from her kisses.
"I'm talking about my looks," explained Hermione. "Is there anything you think needs improvement?"
"Not a single thing," Daphne answered confidently.
"What about my hair?" persisted Hermione, still unsure of herself.
"I actually like playing with your hair when you go down on me," the black haired witch said honestly. "It's fun the way it curls around my fingers."
"Well then, what about my teeth?" Hermione pressed. "Even though they're not nearly as big as they used to be, I still have a bit of an overbite."
"It makes you utterly adorable. And every time I see your miniscule, barely noticeable overbite, I just can't help to kiss you," Daphne said and proceeded to act upon her statement. She took Hermione's upper lip between hers and suck gently on it. Daphne's lips on hers made the brunette shiver pleasurably.
"Do you like my breasts?" Hermione asked after licking her lip, savoring the taste of her lover. "Wouldn't you want them to be a touch larger?"
"Why would you want them larger? They're at lest twice as big as mine," proclaimed Daphne.
Eyeing her lover's smaller breasts, Hermione playfully commented, "That's not really saying much is it?"
Daphne stared in a combination of shock and humor at the brunette. "Did you just say I was flat?"
"Not that I don't absolutely adore them, but yes, you're flat," Hermione said with a mirthful smile. "Like a wall with a set of tiny bumps for nipples."
"Oh-ho that's it," the black haired witch said and roll on top of her lover. "You're in for a thorough tickling!"
Hermione squealed as Daphne's fingers danced along her sensitive skin on the sides of her ribs. Daphne relentlessly tickled Hermione, well past the point where her lover's skin became flush and tears of laughter rolled out of her eye.
"STOP!" cried Hermione between peals of laughter. "MERCY!"
"Not until you apologize for saying I'm flat," demanded Daphne while continuing to tickle Hermione.
"I'M SORRY!"
"Now say that I have wonderful tittes," she ordered without easing up on her playful attack.
"THEY'RE WONDERFUL, MARVELOUS BREASTS!"
"There, now have you learned your lesson?" Daphne asked with a coy smile.
"I will... never mention... that you have... small breasts... again," Hermione said while trying to catch her breath.
"They are on the small side aren't they," said Daphne as she cupped her breasts. "But, I still like them."
"Not as much as I like them," returned Hermione. The brunette sat up and looked in Daphne's eyes. "You do realize that I must retaliate for the uncalled for tickle attack, don't you?"
"Sorry, love, but I'm not ticklish," stated Daphne as she dragged her fingertips up and own her own ribcage to prove this point.
"No, you're not ticklish there," Hermione said and pushed the black haired witch on her back. Hermione snagged her lover's leg, wrapped her arm around her ankle to hold it firmly in place, and proceeded to tickle the arch of Daphne's foot. Her howls of laughter echoed off of the walls.
After repaying Daphne for the tickles she had received, Hermione laid next to her lover and looked deep into her crystal blue eyes.
"Okay let me ask a hypothetical question," Hermione began. "If Susan dumped Carl and said she wanted to be with you, would you leave me?"
Hermione and Daphne's relationship was still new and budding, but it had already partially filled a void in Hermione's heart. She feared that if Daphne left her, that void would grow and consume her.
"So that's why you were asking all those 'Do you like my body' questions," Daphne said. She gave Hermione a half smile and answered, "Yes I still love Susan. But I'm also in love with you. I wouldn't leave you, because it would hurt me and it would hurt you."
Daphne kissed her lover. Hermione blushed, and comforting warmth grew in her belly.
"Of course, if Susan wanted to join in our little fun, I would be opposed to turning the two of us into a threesome," Daphne added with a wink.
"Be serious," Hermione said and her blush deepened. "I could never participate in a threesome."
"And why not?" Daphne playfully argued. She really didn't want a three-way; it would be too ludicrous to believe. But Daphne pressed on because she loved the cute way Hermione's nose crinkled when she disapproved of things. "Love is not a finite emotion. It can grow and blossom limitlessly. I think your love would encompass the both of us if Susan joined."
"You're just saying that because you want to shag Susan," Hermione said. She wasn't offended in the slightest, which surprised her.
"Yes, and after I shag her, I'd move on to shagging you," Susan said with a chuckle. "It's the best of both worlds."
Daphne snuggled up to Hermione and whispered in her ear; "Don't tell me the though of giving Susan an orgasm doesn't turn you on? That seeing those big tittes of her jiggle with each one of her rasping breaths as you drive her to ecstasy wouldn't make you wet?"
"No," Hermione said. Her ever-deepening blush told Daphne that she was lying not only to the black haired witch but to herself as well.
"Okay," Daphne said as she traced her fingers in a circle around Hermione's belly button. Slowly, she lowered her circle movements, inch by inch. Her fingers dragged across Hermione curly brown hair. "Let's just pretend shall we?"
Her finger brushed against Hermione's clitoris and the brunette gasped.
"Let's imagine that I am doing this to you," Daphne said and she closed her circle so that she was gently rubbing her lover's bud. Hermione began to breathe heavier. "And while I'm doing this to you, you are doing the same to Susan. Your fingers playing with her fiery red hair as she moans."
"Daphne, be serious," Hermione objected. A shiver washed over her as Daphne continued to stimulate her.
Daphne continued whispering to Hermione while she played with her. During her stimulation, Daphne would often ask questions such as "What kind of noises would Susan make?" "Would she mew softly?" and "Is she a screamer?"
When Hermione climaxed, she clamped her lips around Daphne's and cried out passionately into her mouth.
After she caught her breath, Hermione commented lightly, "We couldn't just make her hop into bed with us. No, we'd have to take her to dinner first. Then we make her hop into bed. And we would have to be cordial about it. We couldn't just approach her and ask if she wants to sleep with us. We would have to do it politely. We'd have to say 'please' and 'thank you'."
Both witches laughed at the absurd thought of them politely asking Susan to join them. Neither one believe it was plausible much less actually doing it even if it were actually feasible.
After a moment, Daphne asked; "What about a wizard?"
"Merlin, you are insatiable," Hermione said with a chuckle. "First you want a witch to join us, and now you want a bloke as well."
"That's not what I meant to say," Daphne said. "I was wondering if you would ever be with another bloke. If we broke up, I mean."
Hermione chewed on her lip as she thought over her lover's question. After a moment, she voiced her thoughts; "I'm not sure. I know not all men are like Ron; that they won't do what he did. But that trust is gone. If I ever was with another wizard, it would have to be with someone I trusted completely."
"You mean someone like Harry?"
Hermione lost her breath; ever since her attack, she had completely forgotten about her best friend. He was out there somewhere, alone and more likely than not in pain and suffering.
"Don't worry, Susan and I have been going over the records," Daphne said and she stroked Hermione's hair. "We haven't come up with anything solid. But if we did, we would've told you."
Hermione calmed at Daphne's words.
"But my question is still valid; would you allow yourself to be intimate with Harry?" Daphne asked.
"Harry's my best friend," Hermione retorted. "I couldn't even begin to think of him in such a way. Even if he wasn't missing."
"And why not?" pressed Daphne. "He's handsome, smart, and compassionate. He's also strong and brave. And you trust him completely."
Hermione contemplated what Daphne had said. It was true, but Hermione still couldn't bring herself to think of Harry in that way. He was her best friend, such thoughts would be inappropriate.
"Hell, I'd fuck him," Daphne said. "After all the stories you told me about him, I'd jump him and ride him like a hippogriff the first moment I got."
"You'd have sex with him, huh?" Hermione said with a chuckle. She got up and crawled over Daphne's body. "I'll just have to chase those naughty thoughts you have about my best friend out of your head, won't I."
Hermione slid down Daphne's slender frame, kissing and nibbling random areas as she went, and came to rest in between her lover's leg. Daphne leisurely played with strands of Hermione's kinky hair as the brunette made love to her.
x
x
Thanks to his service as an M. L. E. Officer; the courts allowed Ron to be released on his own recognizance so that he could get married. It was a simple ceremony; only family members and a few friends were invited. Ron's father acted as Best-Wizard and Mafalda's sister acted as Witch of Honor.
As he took his vows, Ron came to realize why Mafalda was having difficulty finding a husband. Her red hair was limp and wispy. She had a large, bulbous nose while her chin was weak and recessed. Ron's new wife had small breasts and a large bottom. But it really didn't matter what she looked like. Ron needed this marriage to get his life back.
That night he consummated his marriage. As was customary in the old ways, Mafalda took a potion that would ensure conception.
The act wasn't as fun or invigorating as the time he lost his virginity, Mafalda just laid there silently as Ron pumped away until he came. He wanted her to thrash around and cry out, much like Hermione had. But he took comfort in the notion that Mafalda would not accuse him of rape, nor have him thrown into Azkaban.
x
x
Draco had been worried about having an awkward conversation with Professor Snape when he went to pick up the Amortentia. He needed that potion in order to sway Pansy. The teen had not spoken with his former mentor since they had both arrived at the castle. At first, Draco had looked forward to reuniting with the professor, to tell him of his adventures and how he had helped their Master. But he realized that their conversation would fall upon why Draco was in the potions lab, and he didn't want to have a discussion with Snape concerning his personal problems with Pansy. Thankfully, Draco was not forced to have the dreaded conversation as the Professor had been out on his daily constitutional, allowing the young wizard to simply retrieve the Amortentia potion. He left the lab with the thought of returning and having a pleasant conversation with Professor Snape after he had smoothed things out with Pansy.
Early the next morning, Draco snuck out of his room and made his way to Pansy's. Once there, he muttered an Unlocking Charm and entered. Pansy was still asleep as he predicted; he had shared a bed with the black haired witch long enough to know her sleeping habits. As quietly as possible, Draco crept up to her bed. He was so focused on his target that he did not see a spare piece of parchment lying on the floor and stepped on it. The ensuing harsh sound woke Pansy.
For a half second, Pansy looked around her room while her sleepy eyes tried to focus. Draco realized that she would react poorly if she found him in her room. Her reaction would be worst if she knew what he was planning. More than likely, Pansy would start screaming at him. And there was a possibility that she might even try hexing him out of spite. So, to avoid any further complications, Draco made his move.
He whipped out his wand and muttered: "Petrificus Totalus!"
Pansy went as rigid as a board. Draco climbed on the bed and straddled his lover. She looked up at him with anger and fear in her eyes.
"Don't worry, my love," Draco said with his voice full of love and compassion. "Everything will be the way it should be in just one moment."
He waved his wand over her face and Pansy's mouth popped open. Draco pulled the glass vial from his robes and poured the contents into Pansy's open mouth.
"It's okay," he said soothingly and he held his palm over her mouth. With his free hand, Draco used his wand and canceled the Full Body Bind on Pansy. He then set his wand down and pinched her nose shut.
Pansy was terrified. She had no idea what the potion was. She could not spit it out thanks to Draco's hand covering her mouth. She fought against it, but after a moment, her body reflexively gulped, trying desperately to suck in air. The potion was swallowed in the process.
Draco saw the anger and fear dissolve away from Pansy's eyes. Soon it was replaced with adoration and love. It made her beautiful eyes shine brightly.
They spent the whole day being intimate and holding each other. That night, Pansy joined Draco on his Muggle hunt. She held down a young Muggle while Draco tortured the girl in a most heinous manner. Then Pansy and Draco made sweet love while the Muggle's body was still warm.
x
x
Susan, Daphne and Hermione sat in the back of the courtroom. All three had their eyes locked on Ron as he stood in the dock. Hermione had just gotten back from the witness stand and was furious. Ron's barrister had not disputed any of the testimony Hermione had given. He even went so far as to admit Ron had in fact raped the young witch. But the barrister then had the audacity to ask Hermione if she was familiar with the Unforgivables, specifically the Imperius Curse.
"Yes, of course I know what it is," she had snapped. "Are you implying that Ron was under the Imperius when he raped me?"
"Yes I am, Miss Granger," the barrister had said. "It is an unfortunate occurrence in these dark times."
"Well, you are wrong, sir," she hissed. "Ron had used our secret code when he had knocked on the door. The only way he would be able to do that was if he wasn't under the Imperius. Only Ron and I knew the code; no one else knew it. If he had been under the influence of the Imperius, then the person who cast it would have had to know the code, which they obviously couldn't. Therefore if he was under it, he would've just knocked and not used the sequence of doorbell chimes we had come up with."
"Perhaps he was placed under the Imperius after he had knocked," the barrister had suggested.
"Then I would've heard them, wouldn't I? I would have heard them shout the incantation!"
"Miss Granger, you went through a very traumatic experience," the barrister stated patronizingly. "No one here expects you to recall everything that happened to you that day."
"You arrogant—" Hermione began to argue when the Magistrate cut her off.
"I will not tolerate such outbursts, Miss Granger," he turned to Ron's barrister and asked: "Do you have any further questions?"
"No, milord," he replied.
"You may be excused, Miss Granger," the Magistrate said firmly.
After Hermione had begrudgingly retaken her seat, the defense rested. The Magistrate went into his chambers to deliberate.
A few short minutes later, the Magistrate returned and began to give his judgment. Ron was as white as a sheet and looked as if he was about to faint. Hermione desperately wanted the Magistrate to pronounce Ron guilty, but she had a nagging feeling Ron was going to get off scot-free.
"As defense counsel stated; we live in dark and dangerous times," he began. "Danger lurks around every corner and no one is to be trusted. But this case is about trust; do we believe Miss Granger when she claims she was savagely attacked by Mr. Weasley? Or do we believe Mr. Weasley when he claims to have done that terrible deed under the influence of the Imperius Curse?
"To find the truth we must delve into both the accused and the victim. Mr. Weasley is a Magical Law Enforcement Officer who is recently married and is expecting his first child in few months. Mr. Weasley also has a proper family with a long and rich history of being light sided wizards and witches. Miss Granger is a dedicated Muggle Liaison agent, but we know nothing of her family or their history.
"It is the finding of this court that Mr. Weasley was in fact under the effects of an Unforgivable Curse and therefore not at fault for his actions." The Magistrate banged his gavel and announced "Mr. Weasley, you are free to go."
Every Weasley in the courtroom jumped up and hollered for joy. They rushed Ron and embraced him. Ron pushed his way through and kissed his wife and placed his hands lovingly on her belly, over their child that was growing in her womb.
Hermione fought back the tears of anger. The Magistrate had discounted the facts and sided with Ron simply because he was a pure-blood and she was Muggle-born. She wanted to hex everyone in the courtroom. To make them feel a fraction of the pain that she had suffered. But she was above that. Instead she stood up and stomped out of the room with Susan and Daphne in tow.
x
x
While stuck in this unending void, Harry came to realize that the part of him that wanted to imagine seducing Hermione also had the same dark desires to hurt those people who had wronged him. This sexual desire was coming from the exact same dark place in his mind that wanted to strangle Petunia.
In order to avoid his urge to seduce his best friend, Harry focused on the hate and rage that filled him. He at first imagined simple things. He visualized smashing his fist into Voldemort's snake-like face, beating it to a bloody pulp. Then he would take solace in the thought of snapping Bellatrix's neck like a twig.
Slowly, Harry's simple images turned more complex and in-depth. His mind wove stories and scenarios. He somehow had escaped wherever he was and found himself back in the dungeon where Voldemort had murdered those witches. In his mind's eye, Harry was no longer a starved and weak little boy, but rather a large and powerful man. The wizard sprang up and ran up the stairs. Two Death Eaters tried to stop him, but Harry tossed them aside as if the were nothing more than rag-dolls. Blindly, Harry ran down a corridor and rushed toward an ornately decorated door. He ripped through the door like it was paper and entered Voldemort's throne room. Before the evil snake could react, Harry pounced on him. His fingers dug into the villain's face. He tore Voldemort's pale skin from his bones as if his fingers were razor sharp talons. Voldemort howled in agony while Harry continued to rip pieces of his face off; tossing huge chunks of bloodied flesh over his shoulder, sending the gore in arcs through the air.
A burning desire warmed Harry's soul while he mutilated his enemy's face. It was brutal revenge, but he took pride in causing Voldemort such intense pain. Harry did not lie to himself and say that he felt good about hurting Voldemort because of the countless people he had killed, or even more specifically Romilda Vane and those seven other witches he had killed in front of Harry. It was not as noble as that; Harry did this mostly because of the pain that he had endured thanks to Voldemort. His parents were murdered by Voldemort before he had gotten a chance to know them. This forced Harry to live with the Dursleys, which meant living through years of neglect and abuse. Then there was Harry's recent torture; weeks of pain and anguish. Harry took selfish consolation in Voldemort's pain as his fingers scraped against bone.
Heeding their master's cries, several Death Eaters, including Bellatrix and Snape, stormed into the chamber with their wands drawn. They fired several hexes and curses, but the magic just bounced off of Harry's skin harmlessly.
Harry jumped off of Voldemort and soared at two anonymous Death Eaters. He tore out the throats with his bare hands before turning to Snape. Harry's leg shot out and his foot collided with the greasy bastard's knee, snapping it backwards. Snape crumbled to the floor and whimpered pathetically. Harry felt good, looking down at Snape as he wallowed in pain, much like the potions master had looked down at him the many times he berated the young wizard in his potions lessons. A fire coursed through Harry as he stomped his heel down on Snape's skull, crushing his bone and pulping his brain like an over-ripe fruit.
Once Snape had been taken care of, Harry hurtled at the whore, Bellatrix. She cried out in fright as Harry drove his thumbs into her eyes. As the bitch's blood mingled with Voldemort and the two unknown Death Eaters' blood on Harry's hands, his heart raced excitedly in his chest. Her screams eased the memory of all the pain she had given him.
A powerful shiver ran through Harry's body. Even though it was just his imagination, causing so much pain to the people who had hurt him thrilled him. It exhilarated him so much that he wanted more; he needed more. His mind quickly brushed the image of Voldemort's chamber aside, replacing it with the Dursley family kitchen.
Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley were eating at the kitchen table, oblivious to the fact that Harry had just appeared behind them. He stood there, naked and dripping with the blood of his enemies. Just basking in the notion of what he was about to do to the people who were his family in name only.
He snatched the frying pan from the stove. The metal was still hot from the bacon Petunia had just cooked. Snarling like a wild animal, Harry crossed the distance between himself and his relatives in a blink of an eye. He swung the pan like some smoldering club down on top of Vernon's head. A satisfying crunching sound accompanied by a spray of blood told Harry that his uncle's head had been cracked open. Blood flowed from the shattered crown of his skull. The fat man immediately started to make a sick gurgling moan and he slumped onto his breakfast.
Harry tossed the pan aside and jumped over the table, tackling Dudley to the floor. Harry pinned his fat cousin to the ground, very much like how Dudley had done to him hundreds of times in the past. The obese brat screamed and cried as Harry's fists flew. The naked wizard slammed his fists into Dudley's chest and fat belly. He could feel his cousin's ribs break under his fists; the fragments of bone piecing the boy's lungs. Dudley wheezed and gurgled as his lungs filled with blood. Harry smiled, knowing that Dudley would soon drown in his own blood.
Now that his uncle and cousin were finished, Harry turn to the one who was supposed to protect him the most; Petunia. In a flash, he stood before her and wrapped his gore covered hands around her scrawny neck. The woman's eyes bulged and she desperately tried to claw and pull Harry's hands away from her. Her struggles were as useful as pawing at a rock. Harry looked down at his mother's sister as she turned blue. This woman should have loved him like her own son, but she chose to hate him instead. For that, Harry would make her pay. Her mouth opened and closed, trying to gulp air. Veins bulged and turned a dark blue all over her face. In a matter of seconds, the woman's face turned from blue, to purple, to almost black. Then it turned pale and she stopped struggling. Harry could feel her pulse cease under his palms, but he did not release his grip. He basked in the feeling of her lifeless body as it dangled from his vice-like grip.
A few moments later, Harry dropped the corpse. The thing in the darkness seemed to grow slightly, and the voice spoke. 'That felt good, didn't it?'
Harry would have been lying if he said it didn't. He felt revitalized and vindicated. So much so that he felt blood rush to his organ. Within seconds, he became so erect that it felt like steel. He was so hard that it physically hurt.
'Looks like you've got a problem there,' the voice mocked. 'Might I suggest something?'
Harry knew what the voice was going to suggest. It wanted Harry to imagine Hermione. He still felt wrong about such thoughts and snapped, 'I'll do it myself.'
The location in his mind changed from the Dursley kitchen to the Burrow. Harry willed a copy of Cho and Ginny into existence. The two witches stood before Harry, neither of them was shocked or frightened by his nude, scarred, and gore covered body.
Harry imagined the witches overjoyed that he had returned. They threw themselves around his neck and kissed him as they wept for joy. Harry knew that Ginny might have reacted like this in real life, but he knew Cho would not. But this was his fantasy and it was going to play out the way he wanted.
The witches began to lower themselves into kneeling positions. Once they were on their knees, they looked up at Harry. At this point, their features became muted; as if Harry's mind had forgotten what they looked like. They still had their black and red hair respectively, but he couldn't seem to make out what color or shape their eyes were. Their features seemed to slip from his mind. He could not even see how they smiled. It didn't really matter to Harry. Regardless as to what they looked like, he needed them for his release. As long as he could accomplish that, it would not bother him if he couldn't focus on their appearance.
The red haired witch who used to resemble Ginny ran her tongue along his shaft while the black haired one suckled his balls. After a moment, the two swapped places. The black haired witch's tongue traced the bulges created by those half-spheres and his veins that ran all along his rod.
Once he had grown satisfied with their oral skills, Harry pushed the red head onto her hands and knees. While he positioned himself behind her, the black hair witch pulled up the red head's skirt and lowered her knickers, giving Harry access. Gently, Harry pushed his manhood into her. The witch moaned pleasurably; it was husky grunt, one deeper than Harry imagined Ginny would let out.
After three thrusts, he pulled out and grabbed the other witch by her black hair. He pulled her to his organ and made her take it into her mouth. As she worked his member, Harry saw that the black haired witch began to change slightly. Her skin grew paler and paler and her eyes, which Harry could not make out a few moments before, turned to a sparkling, crystal blue. Again, this did not concern Harry. So long as he could satisfy himself, it didn't matter what the witches looked like.
Harry let the black haired one go and pushed himself back into the red head. He kneaded her buttocks and slowly the orbs grew under his hands. In a second or two, he was no longer driving himself into Ginny's petite and slender frame, but a much more voluptuous witch. He ran his hands over her pleasing curves.
While he continued ramming the now curvy witch, the black haired one stripped naked and lay on her back. She spread her legs wide and beckoned Harry. He complied; Harry left the red head and moved on top of the other witch. She purred as her penetrated her womanhood.
Harry reached out and began playing with the red head's folds while he made love to the blue-eyed witch. Their combined moans and cries made Harry's heart race. He could sense the thing in the darkness swell and grow.
Suddenly, Harry felt a pair of small hands on his back followed by a gentle kiss on the nape of his neck. Turning, he looked into Hermione's brown eyes. Unlike the other two witches whose features were not clear, Hermione was vivid and real. It was as if she were standing right in front of him. Harry tried to erase her from this fantasy, but her image persisted, stubbornly denying his efforts. He recoiled away, trying to put distance between himself and Hermione.
"Shh, Harry. Its okay," Hermione said in a smoothing tone. "I want this to happen."
"No," Harry said. "What about Ron? He wouldn't like me to think of you like this."
"I've told you before; Ron isn't a man. He never will be," she said and dropped her robes to the ground, revealing her alluring naked body. "I need a man, Harry. A real man. Please be that man."
A part of Harry wanted to resist. But another part desperately wanted to feel Hermione; to touch her, to hold her. Even though he knew this Hermione was not real, the desperate need to feel her burned within him. Tentatively, Harry reached out and cupped her face. He pulled his best friend forward and kissed her lips. They were soft and warm. His tongue slid across her lips, and she opened her mouth, granting him entry. His faced heated up while his tongue gently and sensuously danced with Hermione's.
After a moment, Hermione pulled away. With her lips full and puffy, she pleaded, "Please be that man, Harry."
He knew she was giving him permission. With his hands still cupping her face, Harry guided her down to her knees. He rolled his head back when she took him into her mouth. The sensation was so real and intense.
He pushed her onto her back and knelt in between her legs. She smiled at him as he bent over and kissed her flower. A moan escaped Hermione when Harry ran his tongue over her folds. Harry could've sworn that he could taste Hermione, even though he knew it had to be just an imaginary impression.
The other two witches had not been forgotten. While Harry worked his tongue and lips on Hermione's womanhood, the two witches took turns stimulating him with their hands and mouths.
Once Hermione was truly wet, Harry positioned himself over her. The brunette reached down and took hold of his manhood and guided him into her. She held her breath as Harry slowly slid his entire length in. She let out a shuttering breath when Harry came to rest.
"Am I that man?" Harry asked, looking deeply into her eyes. The feeling of her hot sex wrapped around him made his loins ache.
"Yes," she groaned out and Harry began to move rhythmically. Hermione wrapped her legs around his hips.
The other witches would stroke, kiss and caress Harry as he made love to Hermione. One would gently massage his scrotum while the other sucked and licked his nipples. Their fingers traced the intricate scars covering his body. They would also stimulate Hermione during this time as well. Licking and tweaking her nipples, or reaching in between the two lovers to rub her clitoris.
Hermione's eyes sparkled and her inner walls constricted around his manhood. A low, soft moaning came from her mouth as she climaxed.
A short while after she came, Harry climaxed. It was as if a freight train had hit him. Every fiber of his being burned with passion. Panting, Harry collapsed onto his lover.
x
x
Susan was getting all dolled up in her best robes and most expensive make-up. She had spent over an hour styling her short red hair. Tonight was going to be a special night, she could feel it. Simple, yet elegant pearls dangled form her ears. The earrings had been a present from her Aunt before her murder and therefore held a special meaning for her. It was as if Susan was carrying a piece of her beloved Aunt when she wore the earrings. Susan wanted her Aunt to be with her tonight when Carl proposed.
He hadn't said anything about asking her to marry him yet, but when Carl had set up this date, he said he needed to discuss something very important with her. Susan came to the logical conclusion that he would propose. They had been dating for months now and getting engaged was the next logical step.
Susan walked out of her room and presented herself to her roommates.
"How do I look?" she asked while presenting herself like a runway model.
"Wow," Daphne answered.
"Stunning," Hermione added.
"Tonight's the big night," Susan said and checked her hair once more, making a few minor adjustments here and there.
"So you've told us," Daphne said under her breath. "A hundred times in the last hour alone."
"Who knows, maybe you two will follow me and get married yourselves," Susan said with a glow to her cheeks. "The only problem is that I can only be Witch of Honor for one of you. Although you two can share me."
Susan had walked in on Daphne and Hermione's lovemaking shortly after the debacle of Ron's hearing. At first she was stunned. But then she realized that Hermione and Daphne were good for each other and gave them her blessing.
Hermione looked at her lover and said to Susan; "I think it's still a little too soon in our relationship to talk about marriage or any other official union."
"Still, if you two get hitched, I'll be the first to know, right?" Susan said.
"You bet you will," Daphne said with a fake smile.
With an excited squeal, Susan bid her two friends goodbye.
Susan's happy news had hit Daphne like a ton of bricks. The black haired witch was still holding out hope that she had a chance to be with Susan. But the glowing smile on Susan's face over the thought of being married to Carl smashed Daphne's hopes.
Hermione smiled in a supporting way at her lover. She didn't view Daphne's desire to be with Susan as cheating, per se. She hadn't actually come to agree with Daphne's theory about love being infinite, but Hermione wanted to see her girlfriend happy. And if that meant that she had to share Daphne with Susan, she would hopefully accept it.
Once they were alone, Hermione turned to Daphne and asked "Are you going to be okay?"
"Yeah," Daphne said as she absently played with the fringe on the couch, not being able to look into Hermione's brown eyes when she spoke.
Hermione knew that Daphne was lying. She placed her hand on her lover's shoulder and offered, "Let go make love."
Daphne smiled. It wasn't a big smile, but it was a real one. "That would be nice."
"And as a present to you," Hermione said and she pulled out her wand. She tapped the wand to her brown hair and it magically turned red. "While we make love, you can pretend I'm Susan."
Daphne's eyes shimmered with joy. "Thank you, Hermione."
"Oh no. For the next hour, you can only refer to me as 'Susan'," she ordered.
x
x
Susan was about to burst. Carl had taken her to Chez Alberich, a very classy wizard restaurant in Diagon Alley. As they waited for their meal, Carl continuously looked around nervously, as if waiting for something. Susan knew that he was waiting for the right time to pop the question. Any second now, he'd get down on one knee and ask for her hand.
"We need to talk about us," Carl said, his tone was serious.
"Yes," Susan replied with hope and love in her heart. Carl had made her so happy these last few months; she couldn't wait to be his wife. Images played out in her head of growing old together with Carl and bearing his children.
After gulping down a sip of his cocktail, Carl announced "I think we should see other people."
Susan's heart felt like it stopped beating.
"Wh—what?" she asked with a frog in her throat.
"I think it's time for us to move on," he repeated.
"You're breaking up with me?" she asked with a voice that was barely above a whisper. She prayed that she was misunderstanding him. If not, her hopes and dreams had just been shattered.
"I mean it was fun and all. It's just time," Carl stated.
"It was 'fun'?" Susan asked scathingly. "It was just 'fun'?"
"Yeah, it was," he replied. "Don't make a big deal out of it."
"You told me that you loved me," Susan said in a loud voice so that the people at the tables around them could clearly hear. "And now you say it was just 'fun'!"
"Don't tell me it wasn't fun," Carl said.
"You said you loved me!" she shouted.
"Don't make a scene," Carl pleaded, while looking around nervously.
Susan wasn't about to listen to him, but the stares from the people around her bothered her. It was bad enough that she was getting dumped; she didn't need an audience.
"I'm sorry. I didn't realize that you were so into us," Carl said with embarrassment.
"I was so into 'us' because you said that you loved me like no one else before," Susan hissed.
"I said that?" Carl asked rhetorically and scratched the back of his head. "It must have been in the heat of the moment."
"You shit," Susan spat. Tears flowed freely down her face.
"C'mon Suze. Don't do this," he appealed. "I'm sorry you took what we had for something more than it was."
"And what was it?" she demanded. "What was it to you?"
"Sex," he replied earnestly.
"That's all?" she said. Her blood, which had gone cold, now started to burn in her veins. "All those late night conversations where you told me I was the best thing in your life were just an excuse to get inside my skirt?"
Carl fidgeted as if she had struck a nerve. He looked around as if he was trying to find the quickest escape route.
"You little fucker!" Susan blurted out. She quickly regained her composure. She locked eyes with Carl and demanded. "Was the only reason you stayed with me because I like anal once in a while?"
The wizard's guilty silence told Susan all she needed to know.
"You are such a shit," she growled.
"Well, maybe I'd stay with you if you could give head properly," Carl shot back.
"What?"
"You're horrible at it," he said. It was clear that he was retaliating out of spite and anger. Carl was trying his best to hurt her in a petty way. "Yeah, the buggering was brilliant. But I swear to Merlin, I had to force myself to stay hard when you would try and suck me off."
Susan was about to continue her argument when the restaurant manager came to their table and asked them to leave. "Your conversation is bothering the other customers."
Shooting him one final hateful glare, Susan got up from the table, knocking over her chair loudly in the process, and stormed out.
x
x
It was wonderful. Even though Hermione had only changed the color of her hair, Daphne was deeply touched by her lover's show. At one point, while Hermione was orally stimulating Daphne, she paused and ordered her once more to call her 'Susan.' When ecstasy claimed Daphne, she joyously called out the red haired witch's name to play along with the moment.
Now as they cuddled in the afterglow and Hermione's hair had changed back to its natural color, Daphne decided to return the favor for her lover. She wanted to give Hermione the fantasy the brunette witch had; even if Hermione herself didn't know what that fantasy was.
Daphne got up and placed herself on top of Hermione so that their hips were laying on each others. The black haired witch slid one of her hands down her lover's belly and her palm came to rest on her patch of curly hair. Daphne's fingers trailed down and hovered over her lover's petals. Hermione's heat of anticipation was intense.
"Hermione, look into my eyes," Daphne requested which Hermione gladly complied. "I want you to pretend I'm someone else."
Intrigued as to what witch Daphne had in mind; Hermione asked; "Who are you going to be? Susan? Or some other witch? I know, one of the Patils."
"Think of me as Harry," she replied.
Hermione was about to protest. She had this conversation with Daphne before and she had tried to tell Daphne that she was not interested in Harry in that way. But her protests were silenced when Daphne slid her fore and middle fingers into Hermione's center. Hermione gasped as a wave of pleasure washed over her.
"Pretend my eyes aren't blue," Daphne requested. "They're bright green."
The thought of having another man on top of her, even if it was just pretend, frightened Hermione. It was too soon, she told herself. She was about to tell Daphne to stop when a part of her mind did as her lover requested; she imagined brilliant green eyes looking down at her. Another shiver passed through Hermione. It wasn't caused by her lover's touch, but by those green eyes.
"Imagine that my shoulders are broader and that I'm heavier. Like Harry," Daphne urged. "When I say your name, think of how Harry would say it if he was inside of you."
Hermione's breath came out in a slow, shuttering moan. In her mind's eye, she could see what Daphne had described and it both thrilled and aroused her; the thought of Harry on top of her. She imagined her lover's hair was shorter and unkempt like Harry's. As she ran her hands over Daphne's face and chest, she pretended she was her best friend; small breasts became strong pectorals in Hermione's mind. She pretended that the stubble on Harry's chin tickled her palm as she caressed Daphne's face.
Slowly, Daphne began to pump, using her fingers as a makeshift phallus. Her digits slid in and out of Hermione's womanhood.
It didn't take long before Hermione became lost in the moment. She wrapped her legs around her lover's hips, not just pretending they were Harry's, but actually forgetting that it was Daphne on top of her. She was so enthralled that she could've sworn Harry was making love to her. Her hands slid all over Harry's body. She found herself tracing her fingertips over Harry's infamous scar; the rough, jagged line stood out against his smooth skin.
"Does this feel good, Hermione?" Daphne asked. But her voice wasn't her own in Hermione's mind. Instead it sounded low and deep, like Harry's.
"Oh, god, Harry," she moaned out. She started to feel the pressure build, slowly and slowly. The image of Harry's weight pressing down on her while his manhood filled her up was driving her wild. "Harry, I'm going to cum... make me cum," she pleaded.
Then it hit her. She cried out as her muscles contacted and twitched uncontrollably. A fire erupted in her loins, and it instantaneously engulfed her. The fire rapidly shot up her spine and wracked her brain. With a guttural and animalistic cry, Hermione shouted out, "Harry!"
After it was over and Hermione's body was still tingling, Daphne let her full weight lay on her lover. She leaned next to Hermione's ear and asked "Was it good for you?"
Hermione would've been lying if she said it hadn't. But a part of her felt dirty. Not because she had used the image of her best friend to get off; in that way, she felt surprisingly complete, but because Harry was still lost and in danger. Harry was somewhere, alone and hurt. And Hermione hadn't been able to do anything about it.
x
x
Harry was imagining again. He didn't do it to feed the thing in the darkness. Rather he did it because it made him feel good. The once dark and disturbing thoughts now made him feel complete.
In the current scenario that played out in his head, Harry had dug his fingers as if they were blades into Voldemort's right shoulder and, after prying his shoulder from its socket in a show of inhuman strength, had violently torn the villain's arm off. As the so-called Dark Lord was bleeding to death, Harry used the dismembered limb as a crude and gory cudgel to pummel Bellatrix about the head and neck. When the severed arm became useless as a weapon, Harry discarded it and proceeded to kick the witch who had spent weeks cutting up his body. Several of her teeth flew from her mouth after his foot smashed into her face. Her ribs shattered like dried twigs under his blows. After a few moments of this beating, Harry stopped and took hold of his organ. The bitch whimpered pathetically as he urinated on her. He imagined his warm piss splashing on her bloodied face.
Then Harry moved his location to the Dursley home. He used both hands to pry Dudley's mouth open until his jaw snapped painfully. Once his cousin's mouth was forced opened to hideous proportions, Harry crammed copious amounts of food into the fat boy's ruined orifice. Vernon didn't have it as easy; Harry took his time breaking nearly every bone in the bastard's body. First he started with his Uncle's sausage-like fingers. After all ten fingers were destroyed, he moved up the bulbous arms, snapping the bones cleanly in two. Then Harry used a meat tenderizer from the kitchen to break the man's ribs, one by one. Surprisingly, Vernon's toes proved difficult to break. The man was so fat that his toes were nothing more than just tiny nubs sticking out of his feet. Harry had a devil of a time gripping them. Once he was finished with his uncle, Harry turned his attention to his mother's sister. He started out by tearing chunks of hair out of her scalp in bloody bunches. Then he ripped her ears off the sides of her head. Her screech of pain pierced his ears when he ripped her lips off.
As when he first imagined attaining vengeance, he was again as hard as steel. He quickly and eagerly imagined Hermione along with the two featureless black and red haired witches who used to be Cho and Ginny. He dropped all pretences and imagined courtesies; he just started to shag each witch in turn. To finish himself off, Harry made the witches kneel in front of him and had them take turns stimulating him. He grunted like a feral animal as he unloaded himself on their faces.
The thing in the darkness swelled even further. It was now felt massive, as if it was large enough to completely surround Harry. The thing pulsed with rage and lust. Harry noticed something he hadn't before: that was all it was. The thing was just pure anger and sex, nothing more; a mindless beast. He had assumed that the voice that was urging him to imagine the things he had just played out in his head was part of the thing in the darkness; that the thing was the one suggesting all the acts of violence and sex. But the voice was calculating, intelligent, and insightful whereas the thing out there was just mindless lust.
'"Intelligent", am I? That's very nice of you to say,' the voice stated. 'And so very arrogant, don't you think? I mean, to compliment yourself by saying you were intelligent is a little self-important.'
'You're me,' Harry said to the voice.
'Ah, he finally gets it,' the voice mocked. 'I've been talking to you for god knows how long and only now, you finally realize that I am you.
'I'm the part of you that you've always resisted,' the voice continued. 'Whenever you were beaten down or abused, I was the part that always tried to stand up. But you would constantly force me down. You told yourself such actions were not proper. You thought that being meek and kind was the right way. Well, look where it got you.'
When he first entered the darkness and the voice had told Harry that it was right to hurt the people who had wronged him, he had ignored it as being untrue. He believed that the voice was incorrect and cruel. But now that Harry had understood just how good it felt to stand up to those who had mistreated him, and how marvelous it felt to be a man, he knew the voice was right. Harry had come to realize that he deserved his revenge and everything else that he had imagined. The moment he came to this epiphany, the voice was no longer a separate entity lurking in the back of his mind; it became his mind's voice.
x
x
The time had finally come. After so many long months, Voldemort's pet was coming home to his Master.
Voldemort joined Bellatrix, Pansy, Draco, Wormtail, and Smyth in the chamber where Potter had disappeared so many months earlier. It was important that all who had witnessed the ritual – save for Macnair who had been captured – be here for the return. Not that it was vital for the ritual to call forth the servant, but because Voldemort wanted to show his minions just how powerful he was.
Once again, Voldemort donned his ceremonial robes and walked into the middle of the ritual circle. He threw his head back and called out, "Come to me, my servant. Your Master calls to you. Hear and obey."
Everyone felt the magic around them crackle, and they waited. Bellatrix tingled with excitement. She could hardly wait to see her Master's new pet. Wormtail looked as if he was about to soil himself out of fear. He was certain that his Master had grown tired of the rat-like wizard and was going to sacrifice him to his pet, whatever it was. Draco and Smyth watched with wide eyed awe at the Dark Lord's power. Pansy clung to Draco's arm; not out of fear, but the Amortentia potion still controlled her and she wanted to leave this place so that she could make love to her wizard.
"Come to me, my servant!"
x
x
Harry felt the unknown thing in the darkness descend upon him. It entered his body and he felt a blinding rage overcome him. He needed to maim, kill, and rape. The burning desire to feel the hot blood of his victims wash over his skin overcame Harry.
But Harry fought these urges; he pushed them down into the pit of his belly. Not out of fear or revulsion of such thoughts, but because he didn't like not being in control. When he finally did get his vengeance, he wanted it to be on his terms. He wanted to savor it. If he was in a blind rage, he realized that he wouldn't be able to fully appreciate it. He felt the thing in his belly, trying to push its way free. But Harry kept it in check.
He felt a tug. Something was pulling at him. Somehow he knew he was about to leave this dark place. Clearly he had gone to his place so that the thing could bind to him. And now that it had, he was going to return to where he had come from.
That meant he would be at Voldemort's castle. At first, Harry thought this was a good thing; that way he'd be able to get his well deserved revenge. But something told him that he'd be weak when he returned; probably even weaker than when he had been banished to this void. He instinctively knew that he would be helpless when he left this place until he regained his strength. He would be powerless in Voldemort's clutches. The idea of once again being victim to Voldemort and his minions did not appeal to Harry.
He needed to change where he was going. He reached out with his mind and tugged at the force that was pulling him. He felt it change and knew that he could alter his destination. Now he had to think of a somewhere; a place where he could go and be safe.
Obviously, if Harry did not arrive at Voldemort's feet, the evil snake would hunt him down. So Harry had to think of a secure place where he could hide, or where someone could protect him until he regained his strength. He immediately thought of Hogwarts; he be protected there. But now that Dumbledore was dead, Voldemort and his Death Easters would not fear attacking the school. Then Harry remembered Hagrid. His half-giant friend was strong; Harry witnessed as several Stun Charms just bounce off his skin in his fifth year. And even if Death Eater came to Hogwarts to look for Harry, Hagrid would be able to hide him in the Forbidden Forest.
Satisfied that Hagrid would protect him, Harry guided the force pulling at him.
x
x
A strange rumbling disturbed the dust that had settled in Hagrid's hut. A very loud crack broke the eerie silence of the hut as a form akin to a mummified corpse appeared out of thin air and fell to the floor.
To be continued…
