Not Go Gentle
by cloneserpents
Part Nine
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.
"Where is he?" Voldemort demanded. He had felt the component of the spell's magic dissipate, signifying that Potter had successfully bonded with the demon. The bonding would have automatically triggered the last step of the ritual: returning the once-wizard from the other dimension. All his magics were telling him that his pet should be right there in front of him, in the circle. But the circle remained empty; his new servant had not appeared.
"Where is he?" he repeated angrily.
Fearful of her Master's fury, Bellatrix pulled out the old tome that described the ritual and quickly read it.
"I-I don't know, sire," she admitted after a moment of checking. The witch's heart was pounding away in her chest as she scanned over the text; had she done something wrong when she was preparing Potter for the ritual? It had to be her fault and not her Master's. In her mind, the Dark Lord was infallible. So obviously, the blame rested on her and she feared the repercussions for her failure. "According to the book, your servant should come to your call and obey your every command, Master. The book states that if the retrieval spell failed, leaving the bound victim in the other… place, the ritual circle would have been broken. But the circle is intact; which means he's returned to this dimension."
"Smyth, scan the area for any wards or residual magic. See if there was any outside interference," Voldemort ordered. He knew that it was highly unlikely that Smyth would find anything; not one soul outside of this chamber knew anything about Potter being sent to another dimension. Therefore no one could have interfered. But Voldemort had to rule out any possibilities, no matter how improbable.
Smyth immediately pulled out his wand and began twirling it around frantically while muttering incantations. After a few moments, he shook his head; there was no interference whatsoever.
Voldemort was furious. He had spent months preparing for his pet, including kidnapping Potter and using the attack on Hogwarts to procure sacrifices for the ritual, followed by months of waiting; and now, his pet was missing. It was obviously not his fault; he had performed his parts of the ritual flawlessly. And he had observed Bellatrix several times during the weeks she had worked on Potter. She too had followed the ritual exactly. That only left one possibility: Potter.
The Dark Lord was loathed to admit it, but he would have been a fool to ignore the fact that Potter was a strong willed brat. The boy had thrown off Voldemort's Imperius through sheer force of will. The ritual was supposed to strip away the host's free will and make him an eager slave. But perhaps, the boy had just enough of his will left. Maybe when Voldemort summoned him, Potter was just able to somehow steer his destination.
Voldemort had to find him. Even if Potter was somehow able to deny him from such a long distance, the snake-like wizard doubted that Potter, bound as he now was, could disregard a direct order in his Master's presence. If, when Voldemort found Potter, the boy was still somehow able to resist, then Voldemort would just have to kill him. It would upset him to do so; after all, he had worked and planned for months for his servant. But if his pet was not obedient, its destruction would be necessary.
"Wherever Potter is, he will be very weak, most likely comatose," Voldemort said to himself more than his followers. "Until he feeds," he hissed the word like it was a contemptible deed, "he would want to be in a place that he is familiar with; someplace where he would feel instinctively safe."
The Dark Lord turned back to his minions and ordered: "Smyth, send teams in civilian robes to St. Mungo's and have them keep an eye out for any unusual patients. Potter may have guided himself there. Also, if someone were to stumble across him, they would take him there. It should be quite obvious that he'd need the services of a trained healer."
"Yes, Sire," Smyth bowed and hurried out of the chamber.
"Wormtail, go to Hogwarts and Hogsmeade," the Dark Lord commanded.
"But my Lord, what about the Acromantulas?" whimpered Wormtail fearfully. "The power in the amulets that Ollivander made has worn out. There's nothing to protect me from those monsters."
"Go in your rat form. That way they won't attack you," Voldemort said. "At that size, you won't even be a snack to them and they should ignore you. Check the school grounds and Hogsmeade for any sign of Potter."
Wormtail hung his head and shuffled out of the chambers. Voldemort doubted that Potter would be alive if he had ended up at Hogwarts; the Acromantulas would've eaten him for certain. But he needed to be sure. However, Voldemort did not send Wormtail to Hogwarts to search the ruined castle. He sent his minion as bait; if Wormtail, in his small rat form, is eaten by Acromantulas, then Potter, a far larger meal than a rat, would surely be dead.
"Bellatrix, you take Draco and Pansy and find the Muggles he lived with," Voldemort continued. "The wards that hid and protected the house from us must have fallen by now. Kill the Muggles and find out if Potter is there," he paused and began to speak very slowly, as if to drive his point home. "Do not cast the Dark Mark and do not use any advanced magic. Make it look like Muggles attacked Potter's family. I do not want anyone in the Ministry or the Order to know we were there. If we cast the Dark Mark or use anything above simple cutting hexes, they would certainly be alerted. By doing this correctly, no-one will think it was anything more than random killings."
"Pardon me, sire," Draco spoke up with his voice wavering only slightly. He was fearful that a suggestion might be viewed as questioning the Dark Lord's intelligence. "What about the blood traitors? The Weasleys? Potter spent a lot of time at their house. Or even his Mudblood friend? They were close in school."
"The blood traitors would take Potter in his injured condition to St. Mungo's. If he goes to the Mudblood, she would do the same. Our Death Eaters will be able to tell us then," Voldemort said. He also knew that his spy would alert him if Potter showed up at the Burrow or at Granger's. But his followers need not know of his spy yet.
Bellatrix, Pansy and Draco bowed before leaving their Master.
x
x
Narcissa was waiting outside the entrance to the ritual chamber patiently, with the young witches that the Dark Lord had charged her with. They stood next to her with their heads held high, dressed in the finest white silk robes. Subtle make-up graced their faces. Their hair was washed and styled in the latest fashion. Narcissa smiled; her charges could have passed as proper witches in a social gathering.
She had spent months beating appropriate behavior and etiquette into the witches, as her Master had ordered. During the first day, they had done nothing but cry and sob. A few well placed Cruciatus Curses took care of that problem. The first lesson had Narcissa spending hours and hours teaching the witches just how to walk properly. This simple task was somewhat troublesome as most of the witches lumbered to and fro like brainless trolls. Some of the witches proved more difficult than others. Narcissa was about to give up on one witch in particular, obviously a Muggle-born judging by how difficult it was to teach her, and give her to the guards for entertainment. But she remembered her Master had told her that he wanted all the witches for his pet, so she was forced to rescind her decision. She redoubled her efforts by putting thumb-screws on the mudblood and making her walk like a lady back and forth in her chambers for fourteen straight hours. This tactic seemed to break through the young witch's dim-witted mind and she finally began to learn. Once the simple task of walking was out of the way, Narcissa moved on to proper speech as well as dress and attire, hairstyles, and the many other things that denoted a proper witch. The elder witch would often set mock social settings to test her charges. If they were successful, then the young witches would be rewarded with praise. If they failed, they were punished with the Cruciatus Curse and a walking cane used to beat the arches of their bare feet.
After several weeks of training Bella had told Narcissa all the witches really needed to do was lay on their backs. The Master's pet did not care for etiquette or manners, just the wetness between their legs. The blonde witch was furious at first. She had wasted months of training and preparation. But then she realized that such thoughts were inappropriate; it was not her place, or anyone else's, to question the Dark Lord or his wishes. If he wanted the witches to be trained and turned into proper witches, then they were to be trained, no questions asked. If the only thing the Master's pet was going to use the witches for was sex, then Narcissa's witches would lie on their backs in a dignified and respectful manner.
As she and her charges waited for the Dark Lord to beckon them into the chamber, Narcissa looked at the young witches with pride. She didn't take pride with the witches themselves, but with how well her teachings had molded them. She had not formed a bond with these young witches. She was their better by birthright and status, therefore they would always be beneath her; to think otherwise would be ludicrous. For all Narcissa cared, the witches could be savagely raped by the Dark Lord's pet before her eyes, as long as her Master was pleased with her work.
When Smyth came running up the stairs that led to the chamber, Narcissa was surprised that he just rushed passed her without saying a word. She had expected that he would guide her and her charges into the dark room. Then, shortly after Smyth disappeared from view, the loathsome Wormtail scurried by, looking and smelling as if he had soiled himself in fear. A few moments later, Narcissa saw her son, her sister, and her son's girlfriend come out of the darkness.
"What happened?" the blonde witch demanded. "Why haven't I been summoned?"
"There's been a change in plans, Cissy," Bella said as she walked passed. "Take you're little playthings away and wait."
Narcissa huffed angrily as they left her standing in the hallway without the slightest hint of an explanation.
x
x
Susan got dressed as rapidly as she could. She couldn't bring herself to tell Hermione and Daphne the depressing news. So she had decided to wake up early and leave the flat before either witch could ask questions. Once she had finished dressing, Susan walked briskly out of her room. Unfortunately, the ploy had failed. Her flat mates were already up and eating breakfast.
"So, did he ask?" Hermione asked with a genuine smile, ready to pounce on Susan and hug her if she answered in the affirmative.
"Was it romantic?" Daphne added with a smile, although her smile wasn't as genuine as her lover's.
"No, he didn't," Susan replied. She felt a lump develop painfully in her throat at the memory of the night before. But the smiles on her friends' faces told her that they wanted to hear good news. And considering all the bad things that had happened lately, they needed to hear good news. So the red haired witch decided to lie to her friends. "But he did give me a promise; soon. He just doesn't want to make it official yet."
"When?" asked Hermione. She found it odd Susan looked so sad. Perhaps it was the fact Carl had not proposed but had set a date to do so that had upset her.
"In a month," Susan lied once again. She reasoned she would break the sad news of her failed relationship at a later date. "He said he'd propose to me in a month."
"A month?" said Daphne. "Blokes; I'll never understand them. Why would he make a promise to propose to you? It's like he's made an engagement for the engagement. That won't do; not for my best friend." Daphne got up from her chair and placed her arm around Susan's shoulders. The black haired witched could not deny a part of her found herself bolstered her chance with Susan had not disappeared yet. "You go out right now and you make him buy you a ring. Make it officially official."
Susan's shoulders slumped forward and she removed herself from Daphne's arm. "I have to go to work," she said with a sad quaver to her voice before disappearing with a pop.
Daphne turned to Hermione with a puzzled look on her face.
"She's probably upset that he didn't actually propose to her," Hermione speculated. "She'd been looking forward to it."
"Yeah, you're probably right," Daphne said and she rejoined her lover to finish their breakfast.
Once Susan had Apparated to the Ministry, she bolted to the nearest loo and cried her eyes out.
x
x
Wormtail was shaking with fear as he scurried up the hill. He had Apparated to just outside the gates of Hogwarts. He quickly transformed into a rat, hoping to not draw the attention of the monstrous Acromantulas.
He scampered through the tall grass for a few minutes, scuttling up the hill to the castle. Every few seconds, he would stop and sniff anxiously at the air, trying to detect if the giant spiders were anywhere nearby.
He had traveled halfway up the hill before he finally saw what remained of the castle. The Astronomy Tower had collapsed into rubble. The Great Hall had been turned into a massive hollowed out shell. He could clearly see scores of enormous spider webs stung about the castle. Judging by the sheer amount as well as the size of the various webs, Wormtail reasoned that the castle was now home to a large, if not massive, number of Acromantulas.
A screech alerted him to a pack of Acromantulas heading directly toward him. Clearly, the beasts were not considering him too small to eat as the Dark Lord assured. In the blink of an eye, he transformed back into his human form and Apparated away. Thankfully, the Anti-Apparation wards had fallen when Hogwarts was gutted, allowing Wormtail to escape.
For the first time in his service to the Dark Lord, Pettigrew did not fear punishment for failure. His Master had ordered him to find Potter; if the boy had returned to Hogwarts he'd surely be dead, eaten by Acromantulas. There was no doubt in his mind. If he, in his small rat from had drawn the hungry attentions of a group of giant spiders, surely Potter would have as well.
x
x
Vernon Dursley grumbled something about the current market and lazy workers as he read over the morning paper. Petunia nodded her head in agreement as she tried to keep her eyes on the kitchen window; the next door neighbors had a heated argument the previous night and Petunia was trying to listen in hopes of hearing another row. Dudley, having been kicked out of Smeltings for fighting (much to Vernon and Petunia's protests and vehement denials), paid no heed to what his father was saying; he was too busy watching the telly and shoveling food into his face to listen.
There was an air of comfort in the Dursley house; one that had not been felt in many years. There was no pressure of unnaturalness. There hadn't been ever since that frumpy man and that woman with pink hair barged into their house looking for the boy. The Dursley house had returned to its perfect normalness. A great weight had been lifted.
The three Death Eaters appeared on the back porch with soft pops. It had taken them less than an hour to find Potter's relatives. Their Master was right, like he always was; the wards shielding the home's location had indeed dropped. Draco and Pansy busied themselves placing several Silencing Charms around the house while Bellatrix magically sealed the windows. It would not do to have the Muggles escape or their cries heard. Once everything was ready, the three entered the house.
Vernon's face turned a bright red immediately; the freaks had returned. He shot up and opened his mouth, a scathing comment ready to fly. But whatever Vernon Dursley was about to say never left his lips. With a simple flick from Bellatrix's wand, a large gash sliced the fat man's mouth open from ear to ear. His anger and elevated blood pressure turned the wound into a geyser. Blood sprayed and poured down his face, neck, and chest. He crumpled to the floor, clutching his face in agony. Petunia screamed and Dudley lost control of his bowels.
"Draco and I will entertain these Muggles," Bellatrix said to her nephew and his lover. "Go look for Potter, Pansy."
"H-h-he's n-n-not here!" Petunia half sobbed, half screamed as she huddled on the floor, clutching to her husband and son. "He hasn't been here in months!"
"Why would I believe a Muggle?" Bellatrix asked, her cold eyes staring at the horse-faced woman. "Draco, make them suffer. But remember what our Master said."
Bellatrix signaled Pansy to begin her search, but the younger witch hesitated.
"I want to stay with Draco," she whined.
"Go look for Potter!" Bellatrix snapped.
Pansy groaned pathetically and walked out of the kitchen. She so hated being away from her wizard that it pained her. She needed to be with him constantly; otherwise a void formed in her chest. The witch needed to touch him, to feel his skin. And those special moments when she made her wizard happy were the moments she was truly glad to be alive. She would have happily defied Bellatrix, making the older witch look for Potter so Pansy could be with her wizard, but the fire in Bellatrix's eyes told Pansy she should do as the older witch ordered or both she and Draco would pay. She could've withstood Bellatrix's punishment, anything to be with her wizard, but Pansy could not bear to see Draco harmed. So she begrudgingly complied with Bellatrix's orders.
Draco waved his wand and Summoned the older fat Muggle. Blood continued to flow from his face and the woman screeched as her husband flew from her clutches. Draco waved his wand again, and the fat Muggle hovered off the ground. He flicked his wand back and forth numerous times, causing the Muggle's skin to slice open in over a dozen areas. The Muggle shouted and screamed in pain with each cut.
Bellatrix turned her attention to the Muggle boy. Like Draco, she Summoned him. The woman desperately clung to her son, trying to save him from the pain he was about to endure. But her grip slipped and she fell to the floor as the boy soared through the air.
"P-please... d-don't hurt... m-m-me..." the fat boy choked out as he hovered in front of Bellatrix.
A wicked and cruel smile stretched across Bellatrix's face as she waved her wand in one broad stroke. The hex cut through Dudley's belly like a hot knife through butter. It sliced through his skin, fat, and muscle, exposing his intestines. Dudley was in so much pain that he couldn't even scream. His mother more than made up for that. Her cries reverberated in Draco and Bellatrix's ears.
Pansy passed by the small cupboard under the stairs and ran up to the first floor when she heard the woman scream. Pansy knew that her wizard was becoming aroused. He was growing hard; she could practically feel it her womanhood. But she wasn't there to take care of her lover's needs. A pang of pain and guilt flowed through her; Pansy was failing in her duties as Draco's witch. She prayed silently that Draco wouldn't hold this failure against her.
As the fat boy bled like a stuck pig, Bellatrix walked over to her nephew and stood behind him. Before Draco could react, Bellatrix draped her arms over his shoulders and pointed her wand at the fat boy.
"Accio guts!" she hollered. With a disgusting wet slurping sound, the Muggle boy's organs were violently ripped from his body. Blood and gore sprayed across the kitchen as Dudley's intestines flew through the air. Petunia screeched even louder as she witnessed her son being eviscerated like some sick stuffed doll. Draco squeezed his eyes shut just as the organs collided with him. The sticky mass coiled around his head, arms and neck like a skinned snake. The gore soaked his robes and flowed though the holes in his mask, coating his face.
Bellatrix laughed uproariously while Draco kicked and flayed his arms about, frantically trying to remove the intestines from his body. Great globs of blood and partially digested food clung to his mask and robes.
Still giggling, Bellatrix strolled over to the woman and placed the tip of her wand against the Muggle's long and thin neck.
She continued to scream even after her throat had been torn open; her husband had grown pale as a sheet and her son had just been disemboweled. This was all her sister's fault. If Lily had been a normal person like everyone else and wasn't an unnatural freak, she would've never had that foul son of hers, and she wouldn't have died and therefore, Petunia would never have been stuck with that boy. And these monsters would have never come to her home and murdered her family. With her last thought as oblivion claimed her, Petunia cursed the memory of her sister.
"Damn it!" Draco exclaimed loudly as he tugged the Muggle's gore off his body. "Why the hell did you do that?" he demanded.
"It was fun," Bellatrix said with amusement.
"You're a fool," snapped Draco while he untangled a few feet of organs from around his neck. The smell made him gag slightly. "Do you think the Master will be pleased?"
"He ordered them to be killed," she said with cruel sarcasm. "In case you've forgotten."
"He said 'make it look like a Muggle did it,'" Draco corrected. He angrily threw the organs aside and snarled, "Do you think Muggles often disembowel their victims and strew the remains around the room?"
"You'd be surprised," Bellatrix said lightly.
Draco glowered at his Aunt as he waved his wand over his body, magically removing the stink and gore from his robes and skin. He wasn't upset that he was coated with intestines and their contents; that would all disappear with a simple charm like he had just performed. Nor was he upset that Bellatrix's little joke on him had gone against their Master's order. His dark mood was because he had been aroused by the Muggle's suffering and fear, but Bellatrix's little stunt had ruined the moment for him. Having human entrails draped over him soured his arousal completely.
"Pansy, have you found him?" Bellatrix shout toward the ceiling. She knew that she had upset Draco and his anger made her tingle inside.
"There's nothing here," Pansy called back. She hadn't searched intensely, because she didn't want to waste valuable time that could be spent with her wizard. Despite her halfhearted search, she could find no trace of Potter whatsoever; no school books, parchment, quills, owl treats, or robes. There was nothing in the house that led Pansy to believe that a magical person had ever lived there.
Satisfied that she had done her job properly, Pansy trotted down the stairs to rejoin her wizard. Judging by the Muggles' screams, Draco must be as hard as steel and she needed to care for his needs. If Bellatrix had not been stranding with him, Pansy would've been prepared to get on her knees in front of Draco and satisfy him right then and there. She was surprised to see that her wizard was in a foul mood. She slid her hand discreetly down his front and found he was flaccid. Pansy smiled to herself with the realization her wizard was not aroused by the screams like he normally was. The obvious reason was because she was not there with him, or so she concluded. The lack of her presence denied him pleasure; that proved they were deeply in love. She resolved to show her appreciation to him by fetching a Muggle girl and bringing her into their chamber that very night.
x
x
"Are you all right?" Remus asked for what seemed like the hundredth time as Tonks slid out of bed. Not only had Tonks seemed distant and distracted, which told Remus something was bothering her, but there was also his lover's hair. For days she had not changed her hair to its normal bright pink, green, or blue and had instead reverted to its normal mousy brown. He knew for a fact when Tonks was depressed, she tended to revert to her natural hair color and not use her Metamorphmagus abilities to change it to garish, shockingly bright colors.
"It's just work," Tonks lied and unconsciously touched her left forearm and the Dark Mark hidden by her Metamorphmagus ability. This seemingly innocent gesture was missed by Remus. "With all the Death Eater attacks and now the Muggles nabbing magical folk, there's just been a lot of pressure at work."
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked and kissed her bare shoulder.
"That's sweet, but there's nothing to talk about," she said and let her hand run through his straggly hair. Tonks desperately wanted to tell him the truth, that she was forced to become a Death Eater and had to spy on the Order and Ministry. But she knew if she did, Remus would be brave and noble, and her would try to save Tonks and her parents, but would only end up getting himself killed.
"I better get going," Tonks said finally and padded into the bathroom to take a shower.
While in the privacy of the shower, Tonks scrunched her eyes closed and dropped the appearance of fake skin on her forearm. It seemed to her that this was the only way she used her Metamorphmagus abilities as of late; to hide the ugly black tattoo of a snake and skull that marred her skin.
She closed her eyes again and willed herself to cover the hateful mark as her tears mingled with the water from the shower.
x
x
When Hermione and Daphne entered the Ministry, they heard other workers buzzing and talking amongst each other. The talk revolved around the news that suspected Death Eaters were spotted hanging about St. Mungo's.
"Well, why don't they send some M. L. E. officers down there and snatch them up?" one witch asked.
"Because they're only suspected Death Eaters," another replied.
"That's never stopped the M. L. E. from snatching up someone before," a wizard added.
"I heard they did send some M. L. E. down there," another interjected. "But when they approached the suspects, they left, Apparated away. Weird thing is though, after that happened, another group of suspected Death Eaters took their place a while later."
"Wait a tic," yet another wizard join the conversation. "How do they know they're Death Eaters? Are they wearing their masks in public?"
"I said they were 'suspected Death Eaters' didn't I? If they wore their masks I would've not said that they were 'suspected.' Haven't you been listening?"
Hermione and Daphne shared a concerned look before parting their separate ways. Why were Death Eaters lurking about St. Mungo's? Were they casing it for an attack? Hermione hoped the Ministry would increase security at the hospital, just as a precaution. She didn't want a repeat of what happened at Hogwarts at the magical hospital.
As she made her way to her office, Hermione continued to hear different groups discussing the rumors of Death Eaters at St. Mungo's. She entered her office and decided to take her mind off of the hospital and focus on her work.
It still surprised her even though the Ministry had virtually severed every tie with the Muggles, those same Muggles were still sending in reports of suspected magical activity. It was as if some people in the Muggle government were hoping the Ministry of Magic would come and help them.
Hermione scanned through the stack of reports on her desk. It was futile task because nothing would be done about the reports; every time she tried to send a team of Obliviators out, her request was denied. But she had been told it was still her job to sort through the papers and then report them; despite the little good it did.
The first two reports she had read were nothing more than false alarms and she dismissed them immediately. But the third was one held her attention. It was listed as a possible magical attack where a family was brutally murdered. The savageness of the attack wasn't what was suspect; some serial murders had mutilated their victims in a similar manner. What was suspect in this case was the fact that not a single neighbor heard the incident. This led whoever had reported this incident to the Ministry of Magic to believe that a magical person or persons might have used a Silencing Charm.
Hermione was about to file it under "Please Investigate" folder — like she did with most reports — when the name of the victims caught her eye: "Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley Dursley."
Her heart raced in her chest as she realized Harry's relatives had been murdered. She memorized the address and quickly grabbed a map of the area. She found and circled a suitable place to Apparate, one where no one would see her arrive. She took off her robes, knowing such outlandish attire would attract too much attention in a Muggle neighborhood, and left her office.
After leaving the Ministry and Apparating to the alley she had selected from the map, Hermione briskly walked to the Dursley home. It was easy to find the house; a dozen police cars and news vehicles surrounded the ordinary looking house, clogging up the street. As she approached, she overheard several different reporters interviewing neighbors.
"No, I didn't hear a thing."
"I bet you it was their nephew. Strange lad, he was."
"I just talked to Petunia yesterday..."
There was no Dark Mark hanging over the house, but that did not mean this wasn't Voldemort's work. The brutal murder of Harry's relatives was too coincidental for Hermione. She needed to be sure.
Slowly, Hermione edged her way past the crowd of reports and onlookers until she reached the yellow tape denoting a crime scene. A number of people Hermione assumed were inspectors were walking around the exterior of the house, clearly looking for clues. But she noticed several men who seemed out of place from the rest of the police officers. They wore suits as did the inspectors, but these suits were too well pressed, the ties too straight, and the shoes too polished. The men also stood with near perfect posture. These men did not have the crumpled look of the inspectors. Then there were their haircuts. Each one had identical hair styles; cut very close on the top and nearly shaved bald on the sides and backs. Hermione deduced that these men were not police but rather military personnel judging by their appearance and the way they stood.
Hermione remembered seeing the reports of Muggles abducting witches and wizards. From the reports, Hermione had assumed the Muggles had to be part of the military, perhaps Special Forces; that the Muggle Ministry had created a task force to deal with Magical folk. She realized these well dressed men must have been from this task force. With a deliberate and slow place, Hermione inched her way along the yellow tape to the military men. She strained her ears to overhear their conversation.
"... that skull isn't in the air like the others."
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean those freaks didn't do this."
"It could be a serial killer or cult thing," another speculated.
"If it is, then it's police work and we aren't needed here."
Hermione scowled. She had to know if this was an attack by Death Eaters or not. The only way she could do that was by getting in the house and casting a diagnostic charm. Even if she could still sneak past the military and the police, there had to be a number of Muggles still investigating inside the house. She needed something draw the people away from the house.
Then she saw her distraction.
x
x
Ron was more than happy to get back to active duty. After the recent fiasco, the M. L. E. had put him on a paid leave while they worked out the red tape. His supervisor, Sergeant Wright, told Ron to think of his time off as a vacation. Wright went on to say Ron needed it because of all the stress he had been put under. Ron took Wright up on the suggestion. He spent the first few days building a small house for himself, with help from his father. It was only a few dozen feet away from the Burrow, and even though there was just one bedroom and a combination living room and kitchen, it was his. Ron also spent this time getting to know his new wife, Mafalda.
Mafalda was a little dim and somewhat passive. She didn't know much about current happenings, and she tended to agree with Ron in whatever conversation he brought up. This suited Ron just fine; Hermione used to dominate Ron with her intelligence and constantly tried to push him. Mafalda was a proper wife in Ron's mind; he was the wizard and she was the witch, and he liked it that way.
There was one thing about his marriage that bothered Ron: his love life. When he would shag Mafalda, which he could still do since she wasn't showing yet, all she would do was lie on her back completely still and moan softly. She was like a lump. He wanted her to be more active; to push against him, to cry out. He found himself wanting it to be more like his experience with Hermione; full of thrill and excitement. But he had to remind himself of the aftereffects of his time with that bitch; how he had been chucked in a cell and his life turned upside down. So, he told himself time and time again, he should be content with his dull love life; at least his wife wouldn't accuse him of raping her.
His mind was constantly plagued by the events stemming from that night, both before and after. How Hermione had teased him incessantly, and then made him believe that she was into a rape fantasy, only to have the bitch accuse him of the real thing. How he was treated like a criminal and almost tossed into Azkaban like a fucking Death Eater because of her little sick game.
That is why he wanted to corner Hermione the first chance he got. He wanted to show the bitch despite her best efforts, he was not in Azkaban; he was still a M. L. E. officer. Her plan to ruin his life had failed and he wanted to shove her nose in that fact. He didn't want her to hear rumors of him being back, giving her the time to prepare herself. No, he wanted Hermione to be the first to know that her plan failed. He needed to see the look on her face.
That's why on this, his first day back on active duty, Ron walked straight to her office. He wanted to just stand in her doorway and look at her smugly. But when he arrived, she wasn't at her desk. He cursed her; she had taken his moment away, like she had always done. Ron was about to storm out of the room when a voice spoke up.
"Are you looking for your ex?" Martha asked. "I just saw her leaving the building."
Ron didn't say a word; he just stared at the older witch. Martha walked passed Ron, to stand next to Hermione's desk.
"She ran off to Merlin knows where after she read this," she said, handing Ron a report. "Does this mean anything to you?"
At first Ron was going to dismiss the report. It was nothing more than a silly report on the deaths of some Muggles. But his eyes bulged as he saw the names on the report; they were Harry's Muggle relatives. Hermione must've gone to the crime scene for some reason.
"She also apparently checked this map for an appropriate Apparation point," Martha added, pointing to a secluded alley near the Dursley home. "Do me a favor. When you find her, tell her she's in a lot of trouble. She just walked off during her shift, without permission."
"Yeah, I'll tell her that," Ron said and walked to the lobby.
When he got to the Muggle neighborhood, he saw a number of Muggles milling about talking amongst themselves. He spent a full minute scanning the crowd looking for Hermione from across the street, but with no luck. The Muggles were packed too closely together to see anything properly. He decided that his best chance to spot Hermione would be by walking through the crowd. So, with his M. L. E. robes billowing in the wind, Ron made his way into the pack of Muggles. He pushed himself through a group of them; one was holding an odd device with a spongy ball on the tip of it and he was holding it so the ball was in another's face. A third Muggle had something that looked like a camera, but with no flash, on his shoulder. It was truly barmy. Ron knew that his father would've loved to have been there.
Dismissing the Muggles and their strange behavior, Ron pressed on. Just as he moved onto another group of Muggles, he heard Hermione's familiar voice scream, "LOOK OUT! IT'S ONE OF THE TERRORISTS!"
A panic instantaneously enveloped the Muggles. In a blink of an eye, they all started to run and bolt in every direction. One Muggle ran into Ron's shoulder which made the wizard spin around. Which caused Ron to notice a Muggle that had been walking up behind him. This Muggle had an intense look in his eye and was holding a weird device in his hand. Ron had no idea what this device was, but the Muggle was pointing threateningly at Ron so the wizard took no chances. He whipped out his wand and shouted, "Stupefy!"
x
x
When Hermione saw Ron at the edge of the crowd, at first she was filled with rage and hatred. Her rapist was not only free, but judging by his M. L. E. robes, still an officer. Then she realized that she could use him as a distraction to get into the house.
Ron had always been painfully ignorant of Muggles; he was walking around a Muggle neighborhood in a wizard's robes, sticking out like a sore thumb. What more, his wand was jutting out of his pocket for everyone to see. Hermione smiled; she could use Ron's appearance to her advantage.
Boldly, Hermione ducked under the yellow tape and approached one of the men she assumed was part of the military. The man saw her coming, and was obviously about to ask her to leave the crime scene when Hermione said.
"Excuse me, but I think one of those terrorists is standing over there," the witch pointed in Ron's direction. Ron was easy to spot in the crowd, not only was he a head taller than most of the Muggles, his wizard's robes made him stand out even more. "He's wearing something that looks like a bathrobe. And it looks like he has one of those batons the terrorist use in his pocket."
The military man eyed Ron suspiciously. After a brief moment, he said to Hermione without taking his eyes off of the red haired wizard, "Thank you, ma'am, we'll take care of this."
He then walked past Hermione, and spoke into the cuff of his shirt; "We have a suspect..."
Hermione saw several men dressed similarly to the man she had just spoken to begin to surround Ron. Each one of the men pulled what looked like a taser out of their jackets. It was clear that they would get the drop on Ron and stun him; the dolt had not seen the men encroaching on him. Although Hermione would like to see her rapist suffer, she needed a bigger distraction. If the military men just grabbed Ron without incident, the investigators still in the house would be unaffected. But if Ron defended himself and put up a fight, the people in the house would come out; either to assist in Ron's capture or simply to see the commotion. So, to make an even greater distraction, Hermione shouted at the top of her lungs; "LOOK OUT! IT'S ONE OF THE TERRORISTS!"
It was just as she had planned. Blind panic claimed the onlookers and they ran in every direction. Ron pulled out his wand and cast a Stupefying Charm on one of the men approaching him. As the man fell unconscious, the Muggle civilians screamed even louder and the military men fired off their tasers. One grazed Ron's shoulder while the others hit several Muggles who were near him.
Within seconds of her shout, Hermione saw a dozen men and women pour out of the house. It was clear that her plan had worked. She pulled out her wand and cast a Disillusionment Charm on herself before sneaking into the now empty house.
Once she was inside, Hermione was struck by the sight and smell of the gory remains of the Dursley family. The odor made her gag and made her nauseous. Quelling her revulsion, Hermione forced her thoughts and senses away from the corpses as best she could; she had a task to do and little time to do it. She rapidly cast several detection charms. She noticed a Silencing Charm along with a number of Slicing Hexes and a pair Summoning Charms had been used very recently. The young witch's suspicion was now proven; the brutal murders had been a magical attack.
The smell of blood and death began to overpower Hermione once again and she fled the interior of the house. Once in the front garden, Hermione tried to catch her breath, taking deep gulps of fresh air. While her nausea passed, Hermione observed the aftermath of Ron's distraction. Several men and women were on the ground. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw them breathing; thankfully Ron hadn't used any lethal curses. Hermione had doubted he would have, but then she would've believed a few short weeks ago he wouldn't have violently forced himself on her and he had proved her wrong. Clearly, the people who were unconscious were either hit by Ron's stunners or the military men's tasers.
Many members of the task force were scurrying around, looking for something. Hermione assumed Ron had successfully Apparated away. She had hoped Ron would've gotten captured. Because the bastard had eluded justice in the wizarding world, Hermione would've gladly accepted any punishment the Muggle world would've offered him instead.
With a soft pop, Hermione Apparated back to the hall just outside her and her friends' flat. Before her hand touched the doorknob, Hermione became lost in thought.
For some reason, Death Eaters attacked the Durselys. Hermione felt it was safe to assume the Death Eaters had been the ones to attack Harry's relatives. It was too improbable to think it was just a random crime by some other magic user. Voldemort had to have a reason to attack the Dursleys, especially so long after Harry's disappearance. If he had wanted to do it to hurt Harry by murdering his relatives, he would've done it around the time Voldemort nabbed him. Killing them at this time didn't make any sense to Hermione.
As she pondered over the situation, Hermione's mind drifted to Ron's panicked look when he saw the Muggle with the taser. It made her happy to cause a bit of grief to the bastard who had hurt her so deeply. A part of her wanted to see Ron in even more pain.
Her mind then roamed to a time when such thoughts never entered her mind; when she and Ron were friends; a more innocent time where pain, sorrow, and betrayal were distant concepts to her. She found herself wishing for that time to return, knowing that it never could.
She didn't know how she got there without spinching herself, but she found herself walking through Diagon Alley. Apparently, she had been reminiscing about the past so much that she had absentmindedly Apparated there before she entered her flat. She recalled the few times she, Ron, and Harry had strolled down these streets. In particular, she remembered fondly the time before their third year, when Harry spent a few weeks in a room above the Leak Cauldron. He had so enjoyed showing Hermione the quaint little shops; Ron had visited these shops numerous times with his family so he didn't share Hermione and Harry's level of excitement. When Hermione saw the now-boarded up shop of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, her mind flooded with memories of the times that she and her two best friends shared ice cream together.
A compulsion to see Hogwarts once more overcame Hermione. It was extremely dangerous and foolish to do so owing to the Acromantulas, but the witch needed to see the castle. She had to see the place that generated such fond memories one last time.
Hermione closed her eyes and focused. After she felt as if she was being squeezed through a tube, Hermione opened her eyes and found herself at the far end of Hogsmeade. She had chosen this particular location hoping that the Acromantulas wouldn't be there. If they had been, Hermione was prepared to Apparate directly to her flat instantly.
The village, which used to hold wondrous treasures and trinkets of the magical world to a Muggle-born witch like herself, was nothing more than rubble. When she had last been there, during the attack of Hogwarts, Hermione hadn't noticed the total devastation of Hogsmeade. The extent of the destruction made it seemed that the Death Eaters who had attacked the village left no stone on top of another.
As she cautiously walked through the ruined village, Hermione saw no signs of Acromantulas. She reasoned that the giant spiders must have been content to stay in the Forbidden Forest and the castle, as the reports she had read stated.
Because she was moving carefully, it took Hermione a while to reach what was left of the gates of Hogwarts. Even from this distance, she could see the ancient castle was in ruin. Hermione pushed past the gates and entered the grounds. As she made her way closer to the old school, she would hear strange animalistic noises emanating from the ruined building. The sunlight danced across the giant spider webs that hung about the gaping holes in the castle walls, making them sparkle and shimmer, like diamonds.
Hermione felt pangs of sadness and anger at the sight of the destroyed castle. How many people had perished that day? How many families were devastated just for one man's quest for power? Hundreds of people's lives were ruined simply because Voldemort was a power-mad lunatic.
Hermione saw Hagrid's hut out of the corner of her eye. She had lost count how many times she and her friends had gone there for advice, comfort, or just to have some of the half-giant's inedible cakes.
Something dawned upon her; the hut was untouched. Unlike the castle, which had whole sections destroyed and leveled, the hut was perfectly intact and unmarred. For some reason, the Acromantulas had not ravished the hut like they had the castle.
For a moment, Hermione wondered if a Death Eater had dropped one of their special medallions near the hut. It was the only thing the made sense to her; those medallions had a basilisk scale imbued in them and were the only things that kept the Acromantulas away. But then, Hermione recalled during the day of the attack, how an Acromantula had charged at her but reeled away once they had come close to that patch of dirt. Then Hermione recalled Hagrid had taken the body of his former pet and the sire of all the Acromantulas, Aragog, and buried his body in that spot. Harry had told her Hagrid had been upset that the other Acromantulas had wanted to eat Aragog's body. Perhaps that body, now underground, had frightened away the Acromantulas, she mused. Whether it was the smell of the rotting corpse of their sire drove them away, or some sort of taboo or superstition to the giant spiders that frightened them, Hermione didn't know. Either way, it was the only explanation for the pristine state of the old hut.
As Hermione approached the hut, a part of her was overjoyed. The Acromantulas hadn't touched it at all; it was just as she had remembered. The door creaked noisily as she opened it, causing stagnate air to waft out. A thick layer of dust coated everything in sight.
She gasped aloud when she saw the body on the floor. It looked like some sort of mummy; wrinkly skin loosely clinging onto bone. At first, Hermione assumed the poor devil must've been attacked but somehow had dragged himself in here only to die from his wounds. The dry, stale air of the hut apparently mummified his remains. She idly wondered if she had known the dead man.
Hermione gasped even louder when she saw the body draw in a breath. It was a slow, almost imperceptible rising of the chest. He was alive!
As Hermione rushed to the body, she realized whoever this wizard was, he could not have been here during the fall of Hogwarts; he certainly would've been dead by now. That meant that he must've gotten here very recently.
Hermione knelt next to the unconscious man. Even before rolling him over, she was shocked at the amounts of scars that crisscrossed his body. By the looks of it, he had been tortured. She rolled him over and began inspecting him. He was nothing more than a sickly wisp of a man. For a brief moment, Hermione thought he was an elderly wizard, judging by streaks of white in his black hair and bedraggled frame. But then she realized that he was a young man; one who had been tortured mercilessly. He looked starved; his muscles had clearly atrophied into nothing. When she had first seen the scars, she thought they were just caused by random cuts and gashes, but upon closer inspection, she noticed several runes carved into his flesh; some of the runes that she saw meant power, strength, obedience, and savagery. The person or persons who cut this man up did so obviously for a reason; for a ritual of some kind more likely than not. But one scar caught her attention. It was a small scar on his forehead, framed by now white hair, shaped like a lightning bolt.
"HARRY!"
Hermione could not believe it; he was alive! He really was alive! And here in her arms. After months of fruitless attempts to find him, she blindly stumbled across him. As tears of happiness and sorrow streamed down her face in great globs, she cradled his dilapidated frame to her bosom.
She ran her hands over the grotesque rough scars that coated his skin, Hermione needed to feel him, to make sure he was real and that her mind wasn't playing tricks on her. He was cool to the touch but not cold, which Hermione took as a good sign. After gently prying open one of Harry's eyelids, she found his eyes had rolled up into his head.
Something told her that a simple Rennervate Charm wouldn't work. She had to get him to a Healer, Hermione was about to turn a nearby chair into a Portkey so she could bring him to St. Mungo's.
But then, a moment before she muttered the incantation, she remembered the rumors of Death Eaters seen at the magical hospital. Were they there to locate something? And then the attack on the Dursleys came to Hermione's thoughts. The murders couldn't have been random. Hermione made a logical connection between the events: they were looking for Harry. That's why Death Eaters were stationed at St. Mungo's and the reason for the attack on Harry's relatives. Somehow, Harry had escaped Voldemort's clutches and the evil wizard was now searching for him.
Hermione realized if she took Harry to St. Mungo's, she would be delivering him to Voldemort thanks to the fiend's minions watching the hospital. So St. Mungo's was no longer an option. Nor could she take him to her flat, because of Hermione's connection with Harry, they'd surely they would look there as well.
A loud screeching sound in the distance drew Hermione's attention. After gently laying Harry down, she stood and looked out the window. She saw an Acromantula scurrying across the field a few dozen feet away from the hut. A small smile graced her lips, the answer came to her. She could keep Harry here and be safe. Voldemort and his minions would not dare come to Hogwarts. Even if Voldemort thought Harry had somehow made it here, he would've assumed that the Acromantulas would've eaten him.
But Hermione still needed to heal Harry. Even though she only knew a few minor healing charms and potions, they would have to suffice.
She knelt down next to Harry and whispered in his ear, "I'll be right back, Harry. I need to fetch some potions."
She doubted Harry could understand her in his state; her comforting words were meant more for herself than him. Hermione put a hand on his thin shoulder and squeezed gently as another sign of support. She was slightly embarrassed to notice that her simple gesture lasted longer than she had planned. For some reason, she felt compelled to leave her hand on him. A part of her wanted to touch him; not to make sure he was all right, but to selfishly feel him. She blushed when she realized her eyes were lingering on his naked form, his groin in particular. Internally berating herself for having such thoughts of ogling him, much less while he was hurt, Hermione stood up.
Hermione concentrated and Apparated directly into her flat, civility be damned. Her sudden arrival startled both Daphne and Susan.
"Where the hell have you been all day?" Daphne demanded after regaining her composure.
Hermione ignored her lover and walked to their shared room. The brunette snatched up her potion supplies from the cupboard, and then headed to her book collection.
"Where are you going?" Daphne asked.
"Hogwarts," Hermione answered abruptly. She had to get back to Harry as quickly as she could, and she couldn't bother explaining.
"Are you mad?" Susan demanded. "The Acromantulas will eat you."
"No they won't," Hermione said as she selected several books on healing charms and potions. "They won't go near Hagrid's hut."
Hermione was about to Apparate back to the hut, to begin to work on Harry when she realized that she could use Susan and Daphne's help.
"Come with me," the brunette requested.
"Now I know you're mad," Susan commented. The red head turned to Daphne and said sarcastically, "Your girlfriend wants us to go play with the Acromantulas. Isn't that sweet?"
Dismissing Susan's remark, Daphne asked her lover, "Why do we need to go there?"
"I found him," Hermione said. Her voice was a mixture of joy and sorrow. "He's alive. He's at Hagrid's hut."
Both Susan and Daphne appeared confused, as if they had no idea of what Hermione was talking about. Then, it dawned on them.
"Harry?" Susan asked in disbelief. Hermione nodded.
"Where's he been?" Daphne asked.
"I don't know," Hermione replied. "He's in some sort of coma. But wherever he was, he's been severely tortured. So be prepared."
"Why don't we take him to St. Mungo's?" Daphne asked.
"We can't; I'm positive Death Eaters are staking out St. Mungo's to keep an eye out for Harry," she replied. "Earlier today, Harry's relatives were murdered by Voldemort, or, more likely, by his henchmen. All this tells me Harry escaped somehow, and now they are looking for him."
"Well, won't they search Hogwarts?" Susan asked.
"The Acromantulas will keep them away," Hermione stated. "Besides, even if they thought Harry had made it to Hogwarts, they'd just assume he would be eaten."
"Won't that happen to us?" Daphne asked.
"I told you; the Acromantulas won't go near Hagrid's hut. Back in our sixth year, Hagrid buried Arogog, his pet Acromantula, outside his hut. He didn't want the other Acromantulas to eat his corpse," Hermione informed her friends. "And now, since the Acromantulas couldn't eat Arogog's body, it's somehow acting as a repellant. Remember what I said happened during the attack on Hogwarts? An Acromantula charged at me, but when it got to a certain patch of earth, it turned and ran away. I realized that was the area where Hagrid buried Arogog."
Susan and Daphne shared a nervous look. They both believed Hermione when she said that the Acromantulas wouldn't go near the hut. But the thought of hundreds of giant spiders a few feet away set them on edge.
"I'm going," Hermione said firmly. "I could really use your help. But I'll understand if you don't want to go."
"I'll go with you," Daphne said, screwing up her courage.
"Count me in too," Susan added with a noticeable frightened quaver in her voice.
A moment later, all three witches appeared in Hagrid's hut. Harry had not moved from the spot where Hermione had left him.
"Set him on the bed, please," Hermione requested as she pulled out her potion supplies. Susan waved her wand, levitating Harry's naked body onto Hagrid's immense bed.
Hermione set a cauldron on the ground and laid out the books she had retrieved. She quickly scanned through the books, looking for some sort of nutrient potion. Harry obviously needed nourishment; she knew that a potion would be the best option to do just that.
As Hermione scanned through her books, Daphne kept her eye on the window overlooking the field outside. She was nervous about the Acromantulas despite Hermione's reassurance.
"Um, Hermione," Susan called out softly. "Harry's getting an erection."
"SUSAN!" Daphne screeched, spinning around. "Is that really appropriate?"
"Don't worry, Daphne," Hermione said, trying to calm her lover while she began placing ingredients into her cauldron. A part of her, the part that liked to kiss Daphne and make her moan, wanted her to turn around and look at Harry, to see his erect manhood for herself. But she pushed the urge away; she needed to brew this potion. "A man often gets erections when he's asleep, or so I've read. Besides, it's a good sign. Since he can get an erection, it tells us that Harry's healthy on some level."
"Hermione, there's something wrong with his penis," Daphne said with worry.
Hermione turned around and looked at Harry. True enough, something was wrong; a number of large bumps and bulges covered the shaft of his organ. They stood out like large bee-stings on his growing manhood.
"What are they?" the brunette witch asked. Despite her inexperience, Hermione knew that such a thing was not natural.
Daphne leaned over Harry's body and waved her wand over his groin. Slowly, a soft glow emanated from the bumps in his shaft.
"They have some sort of magical properties to them," Daphne announced. "I've got no idea what kind of properties though."
"Can we remove them?" Hermione asked.
"I doubt it," the black haired witch admitted. "It looks like they've fused with the tissue. I could do some research and see if I can do anything."
As all three witches watched, Harry's organ grew and grew. In a matter of moments, it stood fully erect for all to see. Hermione was so transfixed that she did not realize that her mouth had gone dry. Daphne, who was just as fascinated as her lover, unconsciously licked her lips. The awkward tension that filled the hut made Susan want to say an off-colored comment such as "I could use that as a coat rack" to break the silence and lighten the mood, but she too was so spellbound that the words didn't leave her throat.
"Those bumps are the least of our problems right now," Hermione said, finally forcing her attention away from Harry's large organ and returning to her cauldron. "We can see if we can remove them later. For now, let's focus on getting Harry healthy."
"This may seem a little crude, but it kind of looks like a dildo," Susan announced.
Instead of chiding Susan for her comment, Hermione turned and focused on Harry's organ once more. That same part of her that liked the way Daphne would purr when kissed behind the ear relished the sight of Harry's rigid member. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that both Daphne and Susan were slightly mesmerized on Harry's manhood as well, as if they were fascinated by it.
"One of my ex's bought me a dildo he found in a Muggle shop, he thought it was funny gift," Susan continued. "It was a black rubber thing with a whole lot of bumps on it, sort of what Harry has."
"Did you ever use it?" asked Hermione. She was surprised to find herself curious about such a crude topic, particularly in this situation.
"Only once," Susan admitted. "After he broke up with me, I used it to spite him."
Hermione found herself curious yet again. This time, she wanted to know if it felt good; all those bumps rubbing inside of her. But such a question was far too crude, especially at a time like this. So she put her mind to the task of brewing the potion.
Susan pulled herself out of her transfixed state. It wasn't right to stare at Harry, not while he was ill. The red haired witched walked over to Hagrid's bed and pulled one of the sheets off to use as a cover for Harry.
Daphne shook her head when Susan threw the blanket over Harry. She was embarrassed by the fact she couldn't look away from him.
Over the next few minutes, Harry's state softened and became flaccid.
It took nearly an hour for Hermione to successfully brew the nutrient potion. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she carefully cradled Harry's head in her lap and poured the liquid down his throat. She waited for a reaction from him, but nothing happened. Hermione realized a simple nutrient potion was not enough; she needed to find more powerful potions, ones that her books did not list.
x
x
After dashing to Flourish & Blotts the next day, Hermione returned to the hut with a stack of books on advanced healing. She and her two friends began making several different potions designed to rebuild Harry's muscles, feed him vital nutrients and general curing elixirs. None seemed to work.
"Damn it," Hermione cursed as she looked down at Harry. There had been no change in his condition; even in the slightest. All those tissue regenerative potions should have at least given him back some of his muscle. But he still looked like a skeleton.
"Well, we'll just have to keep trying," offered Susan.
"Maybe the potions need to be given to him a couple of times over the next few days to take affect," speculated Daphne. "I mean, he's in a really bad state. It could be the potions are working on him slowly."
"You're probably right," Hermione conceded. "Still, I think we should try some other remedies as well. We'll have to keep a constant eye on him to monitor any changes."
"That makes sense. But we'll have to split up into shifts," Susan said. "I can have my shift at the Ministry switched to evenings. That way, I can keep an eye on Harry during the mornings..."
"I can watch him over night," Daphne offered. "I'm more of a night person anyway."
"I'll take the evening watch, then," Hermione said with a smile. Her friends' compassion and loyalty touched her heart.
x
x
When she heard a group of people walking up behind her, Tonks didn't bother turning around. She knew who they were and why they were at her flat so late at night.
"It's time to prove yourself," Bellatrix said in a sickly sweet voice as she and two fellow Death Eaters walked to the witch.
Tonks still didn't bother to look at the Death Eater as the distance between them closed. Bellatrix dropped a piece of parchment and a self-inking quill in front of the Auror.
"What's that for?" Tonks asked, dreading the answer.
"It's a trap," Bellatrix replied. "Since you took Macnair from us, it's only fitting that we take one of you to even things out."
"Please, don't make me do this," pleaded Tonks.
"Oh, now don't get that way," Bellatrix said and she ran her fingers through Tonks' hair and stroked her face softly in a mocking gesture of compassion. "Just think of what will happen to your blood-traitor of a mother and her filthy mudblood."
Knowing it was pointless to plead with the psychotic Death Eater, Tonks picked up the quill.
"Good girl, now write a note to 'Mad-Eye' Moody," Bellatrix ordered in her sickly sweet voice. She draped her arms over Tonks' shoulders and rested her head on top of the younger witch's. "Tell him that you want to meet at the alley across from Borgin and Burkes at midnight. And make sure he comes alone."
Tonks stared at the blank parchment, trying to figure out a way to warn Moody. She knew that Bellatrix was watching intently, so warning him or drawing little symbols would be out of the question. Thinking quickly she decided to use a heavier hand on the quill when it came to certain letters. She wrote;
"Dear Moody,
At midnight tonight, meet me at the alley across from Borgin and Burkes alone. I came on a tip earlier today about a potential spy in the Ministry and I can't trust anyone but you. It is imperative that we talk.
Your friend,
Tonks."
Once she was finished, Tonks laid the quill down. The hidden message was subtle, but Mad-Eye was a paranoid old coot and Tonks was certain that he'd spot it.
Unfortunately, the message wasn't subtle enough to slip by Bellatrix.
"Look, isn't it sweet, she's tried to warn her friend," Bellatrix said patronizingly as she scooped up the parchment. She handed it to one of the other Death Eaters and explained "It says' don't come, trap, run away.'"
While she stroked Tonks' cheek in another false show of compassion, Bellatrix said "I think we should teach you a lesson, my dear." The witch spoke to one of her companions and ordered; "Williams, go back to the castle and dig out one of the mudblood's eyes with a spoon."
"What?" Tonks asked in shock and fear.
Before she could protest, Williams disappeared with a pop.
"I'd wait for Williams to come back with your father's eye, but we're on a tight time frame," Bellatrix said, barely holding back her laughter over Tonks' pain. "Now, write it again. And this time, don't try to warn him or I'll have Hodgkin here use the same spoon Williams used to put out one of your mother's eyes."
"She's your sister," Tonks begged.
"She betrayed our kind by marrying that mudblood and pushing a filthy half-blood like you out of her befouled womb! That whore stopped being my sister a long time ago," Bellatrix snarled. "Now write the fucking post!"
With tears streaming, Tonks rewrote the note. This time she didn't attempt to hide a warning. She hoped that Moody would realize that it was a trap and save himself —even though the possibility of that happening was slim at best. When she finished, Bellatrix scrutinized what the Auror had written.
"I was so hoping that you'd try and defy me again," complained Bellatrix. "I wanted to have your mother scream."
Bellatrix clicked her fingers and Hodgkin walked to her. He took the post and Apparated away.
"While he's gone to fetch an owl and send the post to Moody, we should have a little chat," Bellatrix said. She sat across from Tonks and demanded, "Tell me what types of precautions Moody will take for this meeting. And if I feel that you're holding back, I'll personally return to the castle and cut the blood-traitors tits off."
Tonks let out a shuttering sigh before answering. "He'll arrive early to case the area. If he finds any traps or Anti-Apparation wards, he'll take off."
"So that means you'll have to cast the Anti-Apparation ward after he shows up. We can't have him running off. He won't expect you to do something like that," ordered Bellatrix. "What else? What kinds of protection will he have?"
"He'll have a backup wand somewhere on his body. And he has an emergency Portkey," Tonks stated with a heavy heart recalling the old sock Moody kept in his pocket. To betray a friend and mentor like Moody tore at her soul. But she was forced to weigh the value of Moody's life against the lives of her mother, father, and Remus.
"That's very good," Bellatrix said. "Now get ready, we can't be late for our meeting with Mad-Eye."
x
x
They couldn't meet in the Minister's office. That would draw too much attention; he knew this. But Johan Blaor didn't think they needed to meet in a dirty alley like a bunch of lowly thieves.
Some kind of blue-green sludge dripped down the wall behind him. A nasty odor lingered throughout the alley, smelling like fecal matter. A filthy rat scuttled across the ground a few feet from Blaor, causing the wizard to cringe. It was a dirty and disgusting place; it was not a suitable setting for him. Nor was it a proper location to discuss the magical word's freedom. But then again, since he and the Minister did not want anyone to find out what they were doing, this was the perfect place; no one would ever think to look for them here. Blaor pushed his disgust away and swallowed his pride along with a mouthful of bile. This was for the good of witches and wizards everywhere, he told himself. He just wished Godfrey would show up, so he could give the Minister his findings on his potions and get out of the foul alley as soon as possible.
Blaor fidgeted for several minutes, trying his best not to think of the sludge that coated his boots and was seeping into the hem of his robes, when someone showed up. At first, Blaor didn't recognize the Minister. The normally noble and proud wizard was hunched over and wearing dirty and tattered set of robes; he looked like a vagrant. Clearly, the Minister had taken pains not to be recognized.
"What are your findings?" Godfrey asked without greeting the potions master. Ever since Blaor started his tests, the Minister had been anxious to hear how it went.
"Exactly as expected, sir," Blaor said with naked pride. "My theories were proven one hundred percent!"
"Wonderful," Godfrey commented. "How soon before the potion will work on the entirety of the Muggle population?"
"On such a large scale, we're talking about tens of millions of Muggles. I suspect that it would take about three to four weeks to properly alter the Muggles once exposed," Blaor speculated. "The necessary amount of potion would still need to be brewed as well. With all things considered, I believe a target of six to seven weeks is optimal, sir."
"Good, good," Godfrey congratulated. "Get to it straight away. The sooner we get the Muggles out of our hair the sooner we can focus on deal with the Death Eater scum. I'll see that you get enough funding. It will be transferred to your Gringotts account by morning. The Ministry has reserve finances that I can dip into for that without drawing too much attention."
The Minister began to walk out of the dirty alley, and he turned. "Remember, Mr. Blaor, the future of the wizarding world rests in your hands."
x
x
The night air bit at her nose and chilled the tears as they rolled down her face. Tonks had arrived in the alley two minutes before midnight and she now waited in the cold for Moody to show.
She knew that he was already there, waiting somewhere in the inky darkness. Moody and his philosophy of "Constant Vigilance" meant the retired Auror had gotten there at least thirty minutes previously and had checked every square inch of the alley; looking for wards, traps, or anything out of the ordinary. Tonks knew it wasn't that Moody mistrusted her in particular; it was just in his nature to be so paranoid. A part of her had wished he didn't trust her. If he didn't then he would not have been lured into a trap.
Then, at exactly midnight, Tonks could hear Moody's heavy wooden leg clomping on the cobblestone. Lurching out of the shadows, Moody kept his good eye on Tonks while his magical spun in every direction, constantly looking for an attack, like it always did. His wand was already clutched in his gnarled right hand.
"You said something about a spy," he grumbled as he closed the distance. "Who is it and where'd you hear it from?"
"I'm sorry," she muttered and whipped out her wand. Tonks shouted "Expelliarmus!"
Before the magic even hit Moody's wand, Tonks quickly cast an Anti-Apparation Ward.
Despite Moody's inborn paranoia, he had not expected Tonks' actions and his wand was knocked from his hand. Instantly, he began to reach for his backup wand hidden in his trouser leg. He was planning on Stunning Tonks and then figure out why she disarmed him.
But just as he began to pull his spare wand free, over a dozen Death Eaters popped into view in a tight circle around Moody and Tonks. In one hand they held their wands while the other clasped a long length of rope —obviously a Portkey. The sole witch in the group shouted "Accio Wand!" and Moody's backup wand was pulled from its hiding place and flew into her hand.
Even if he had not been disarmed, Moody knew that fighting would be fruitless and foolish when he was outnumbered as greatly as he was. Moody decided to err on the side of caution and activate his emergency Portkey.
"Accio Moody's Portkey!" shouted Tonks with a sob. The sock flew out of the old Auror's back pocket and soared to Tonks.
"What the hell are you doing, girl?" demanded Moody. Both of his eyes were firmly fixed on his betrayer.
"I'm so sorry, they have my Mum and Dad," wailed Tonks. "They would've killed them if I didn't do this."
"You should've come to me, girl. We could've figured this out," Moody said with sad disappointment. "You should've come to me.
Tonks bit her fingers in anguish, waiting for some Death Eater, Bellatrix more likely, to cast the Killing Curse at Moody.
"Okay, Nymphadora, now it's time for you to finish your test," Bellatrix said.
The young Auror looked at her evil aunt in utter revulsion. With a pathetic quaver to her voice, Tonks asked "W-w-wh-what?"
"You didn't know? Luring Moody here was only part of your test. You have to kill him. I guess that part of your test must've slipped my mind," Bellatrix explained before cackling madly
"You sick bitch," spat Tonks.
Moody stood there, knowing that it would be pointless to beg or argue. If Tonks didn't kill him, one of the Death Eaters certainly would.
"Kill him or your Mummy and Daddy will scream and scream," crowed Bellatrix.
Tonks looked at her former mentor and prayed that he had figured out some way to escape. But he just stood there, frowning back at her with regret etched on his hard and weathered face.
"Do it, girl," he ordered. "You made your choice. Now it's time to back it up."
"I didn't have a choice!" cried Tonks. Moody turned his face away from her. "They'll kill my parents!"
"For the love of all that's holy, please stop crying and kill him!" barked Bellatrix.
Tonks leveled her wand at Moody and forced herself to stop shaking. With bile burning her throat, she began to enchant. "A-Av-Avad-"
"Hurry up or your dirty blooded father will be castrated!" snarled Bellatrix.
"A-Avada K-Kedavra!" Tonks cried out.
A thin, green bolt of magic leapt from her wand and struck Moody directly in the chest. Instead of just collapsing to the ground, the old wizard's face contorted in agony and her clutched at his breast.
"That was the poorest Killing Curse I've ever seen," Bellatrix giggled.
Tonks watch in wide eyed horror as Moody dropped to his knees. Her Killing Curse had been so weak, that it had not been quick and merciless; it was causing Moody agonizing pain.
"You may want to cast it again. By the looks of it, Moody's in quite a bit of pain," suggested Bellatrix flippantly. "Although, I rather like watching him suffer so I wouldn't mind if you just let him dies slowly."
To Moody, it had felt like a white-hot poker had been rammed through his chest and fire was eating at his torso; burning his flesh, muscle, and bone. The pain robbed him of his breath and brought him to his knees.
Bellatrix's cruel comment had elicited a sick chuckle from the other Death Eaters. Clearly they too like watching the great dark wizard hunter die slowly.
Tonks took a breath; she had to cast the foul curse once more to end Moody's suffering as well as to not let the bitch and her flunkies have the pleasure of watching his painful death.
"Avada Kedavra!" the young witch cried out once more. Just as before, the power behind the curse had been weak. But mercifully, it had been enough to end Moody's suffering. He crumpled to the ground.
"I guess that's something they don't really teach in Auror Academy; you have to hate the target enough to end their life in order for the Killing Curse to work properly," Bellatrix said mirthfully. "Otherwise, you'll just kill the target slowly and painfully. Which is what you pretty much did to Moody, wasn't it Tonks?"
Tonks dropped her wand and she was rocked by deep, painful sobs.
"Now that you've past your test, your parents get to live a bit longer," Bellatrix told the crying witch. "We'll expect news from you every so often. Such as Ministry plans and Order of the Phoenix happenings. If you don't write every so often, we'll grow concerned about your allegiances and we'll be force to hurt your mummy and daddy some more. Do you understand?"
Tonks nodded her head.
"Good," the evil witch said and she slipped a piece of parchment into Tonks' pocket. "There's a code on that paper. Use it to tell us of any information you come across."
The young witch had not bothered to look up as some unknown Death Eater removed Moody's magical eye from his skull while another retrieved the dead wizard's wand that had been knocked from his hand by her Disarming Spell. When a third Death Eater transfigured Moody's body into a piece of trash and then set it on fire, Tonks still could not bear to look at what she had done. And she didn't look up as Bellatrix and her fellow Death Eaters took up their Portkeys once again and vanished. She just stood there, in the dark alley, crying hysterically, wishing that she'd die while the thing that used to be Moody's corpse burnt to ashes.
x
x
The three witches fell into their new routine easily. Susan was able to have her work shift changed to evenings, allowing her to nurse Harry during the morning and early afternoon. Hermione would head to the hut the instant she left the Ministry and take over for Susan to cover the evening, while Daphne took the night watch.
Each one practically dismissed their social lives for Harry's wellbeing. Hermione and Daphne ended up with only a few minutes out of each day to spend with each other. Those scant moments were used to their fullest. Susan felt relieved at least; with the hectic schedule, between work and watching Harry, she had little time to fret over her failed relationship with Carl. And since she now rarely had time to talk at length with her friends, she didn't have to lie to them about Carl.
Susan, Hermione, and Daphne each privately noticed something peculiar when they were with Harry. Their minds tended to wander to lustful thoughts. Each witch would catch herself looking at his lips, speculating whether he was a soft kisser or a strong one. They also found their eyes lingering on his blanket covered manhood. When Harry became erect, which happened frequently, the witches had an even harder time not being mesmerized by it.
None of them spoke of these thoughts, each one thinking she alone was shameful enough to look at Harry lustfully while he was so sick. Such thoughts about a comatose wizard were too embarrassing to discuss with one another.
x
x
The tension that hung in the air of Lord Voldemort's throne room was palpable. The Death Eaters who guarded the Dark Lord couldn't help but tremble out of fear that their Master would vent His frustrations upon them.
Despite the happy news he received a few days previous concerning that pest Moody's death, anger seized his mood and rage flowed off of his pale skin as he sat on his throne. Voldemort considered himself a patient man, but even he had his limits. After months of planning and preparation, followed by months of waiting, even now his new pet was still missing. He was rightfully angry.
His Death Eaters stationed at St. Mungo's reported nothing unusual at the hospital. Bellatrix had disposed of Potter's Muggle relatives, but no sign of the boy was found at the house. And Wormtail, despite his inherent ineptitude, was able to confirm the Acromantulas were swarming all over Hogwarts; if Potter had gone there, he surely would've been eaten the moment he appeared. Even his spy, who kept an eye on the Order of the Phoenix and Potter's friends; the Weasleys and the Mudblood Granger, had no news.
But Voldemort could feel the boy; it was like an irritating itch he couldn't scratch. He knew Potter was alive. Clearly, the boy had returned to this plane, but where? He could be, literally, anywhere. Voldemort had to be patient; the boy would turn up eventually. And when he did, Voldemort would claim his pet.
However, the Dark Lord was... uneasy. The desire to have his pet so he could smite his enemies had created a knot in the pit of his stomach. He needed release.
For a moment, Voldemort eyed his guards. A quick flick of his wand and they'd be screaming. But they would not beg; they would accept any pain their Master gave them. That would not satisfy Voldemort; he wanted to hear someone scream for mercy.
Setting his mind to this task, Voldemort walked out of his throne room. Fifteen minutes later, the Dark Lord stood in the back garden of some unsuspecting family. Through the window, Voldemort could see a young boy perform some sort of skit for his family. He could hear peals of laughter coming from inside the house. The boy bowed as his siblings and parents applauded and cheered. If he was so inclined to look at his feelings, Voldemort would have noticed a bit of bitterness and jealousy as he watched the happy family; a mockery of what he was denied as an orphan.
A cruel smile curled on Voldemort's snake-like mouth; soon their cheers would turn to screams.
x
x
During her first day of watching over Harry by herself, Hermione had conjured a comfy chair and sat right next to the ailing wizard. After feeding him various nutrients and regenerative potions, Hermione spoke to Harry; telling him what had happened since he went missing. She spoke to him mostly to keep herself busy and focused. She had quickly found when she did this, she didn't fret over Harry excessively. One topic she did not discus with Harry was her relationship with Ron or the rape. She couldn't bring herself to talk about it with Harry. The thought of telling Harry that his best mate was a rapist worried Hermione. Even though she doubted that he could hear her, Hermione found herself wondering if Harry would believe her. Would he discount her story, thinking Ron would never do such a vile deed? Or would he understand that she was telling the truth, and out the sense of nobleness that he had, hunt Ron down and seek vengeance.
On the second day, desiring to be even closer, Hermione sat on Harry's bed. She went so far as to place his head in her lap. Something about this close contact seemed comforting to Hermione. She ran her finger through his hair, caressing his scalp. She rested her hand on his chest for a long time, content to simply feel the rhythm of his heartbeat.
Shortly before her shift ended on this second day, Hermione was quite appalled to find herself playing with Harry's exposed nipples. In a movement that she had not consciously noticed, her hand moved from lying on his chest to his left nipple. She had rolled the tip of her forefinger around the small bud until it stood erect. With her face burning out of embarrassment, Hermione attempted to move her hand away from his nipple, but didn't. Instead, her fingers busied themselves by playfully flicking the now rigid nub. Hermione's embarrassment grew even more when she realized that she liked this action. Furthermore, a stray thought entered her mind as her fingers continued to dance with his sensitive flesh: 'how different would his nipple taste from Daphne's?' Her mind brought up an image of bending over and licking his pink nub.
Carefully lifting Harry's head from her lap, she moved off the bed. How could she think these perverted thoughts, she wondered as she moved to the far side of the hut; trying to put distance between her and Harry.
When Hermione arrived on the third day; her eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. Her supervisor, Martha, had her running pointless errands all over the Ministry Building the entire day. First, Hermione had to run down to the fourth floor to ask maintenance to check on the floo connection from Martha's home. Then Hermione had to deliver various verbal messages to a number of Ministry officials; including Percy Weasley, Minister Godfrey's personal assistant John Daily, and the same little plump witch Hermione had met when filling out her application so many months before.
"I had a problem with the inter office mail yesterday. My messages kept flying into the wrong offices. I can't trust them anymore," was the excuse Martha gave Hermione for forcing the younger witch to run all over the place. Hermione thought this excuse was dubious at best. More likely than not, Martha just wanted to run her ragged out of spite.
Dragging her feet into Hagrid's hut, Hermione was too tired to conjure up her comfy chair and just plopped down in one of the lumpy chairs leaning against the wall. Her first compulsion was to sit on the soft warm bed next to Harry. But Hermione didn't want a repeat performance where she was stimulating his nipple.
As she watched her unconscious friend through drowsy eyes, Hermione felt a tingle in her loins. It swelled and grew; spreading up into her stomach and making her chest tight. She tried to ignore it, to push it away. But the sensation drove thoughts and images into her head. The witch didn't just want to place her hand on his chest. No the desire in her lower belly wanted more. It wanted her to strip down to nothing, toss the sheets covering Harry aside and crawl on top of him. This dark need wanted Hermione to lay on him, to feel his bare flesh on hers, to push her breasts into his chest. The thought of her naked skin pressing against his made her prickle. She wondered what his organ would feel like, wedged in between their two bodies. Would the pressure that was sure to build up in his manhood send shivers through her body?
Desperately, Hermione tried to quell these thoughts. She tried to focus on more innocent things, but it didn't work. She ended up imagining slithering down his body; her breasts dragging down his chest while his hard cock tugged at her belly. Just the thought of having that rod pressed up against her body made Hermione quiver and ache. She wanted to know what it felt like to squeeze it between her mounds, to feel his heat.
A desire to nuzzle her face against his meat came over her. She wanted to bask in his warmth and fragrance as it rolled over her checks, nose and lips. Somehow she knew instinctively that Harry would not smell of urine and old sweat like Ron had. No, she knew his scent would be pleasant, even inviting.
Hermione snapped out of her depraved thoughts the moment her fingers touched her cloth covered nether lips. She had been so caught up in her thoughts she had unknowingly moved her hand between her own legs to relieve her pressure.
Looking at Harry's still form, Hermione scolded herself. Not only was she disgusted at the idea of molesting the helpless wizard, she was nauseated over some of the foul and base words her mind had used to describe the acts she had imagined.
What drove her to think such things? Was it simply because she was overly tired from work? Or was there something lurking deep inside of her; something Daphne had unlocked when the black haired witch had pretended to be Harry when she made love to Hermione?
x
x
After the sun went down that night, Daphne arrived at the hut to take over for Hermione.
"Hey, sweetie, are you okay?" Daphne asked her lover. Hermione had a ragged look about her. Not only was she exhausted, but Daphne recognized a hint of lust in Hermione's eyes.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Hermione replied dismissively. "I just had a long day at work."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No, all I need is to go home and sleep."
"You could sleep here tonight," Daphne said coyly before biting the tip of her tongue in between her teeth. Reaching out, Daphne intertwined her fingers with Hermione's.
"No, Daphne, it wouldn't be right," Hermione said, knowing full well that her lover had no intention of sleeping. "Not with Harry right next to us."
"He's comatose, love," Daphne argued. "It's not like he'd suddenly wake up because we're making love."
"What if the potions finally start to work and he does wake up? What then?" speculated Hermione. "What would happen if the first thing he sees is us together on the floor?"
"Besides the fact he'd wake to one hell of a show? Maybe we could ask him to join," Daphne offered with a demure smile. She wanted to see Hermione's nose crinkle disapprovingly.
"Daphne," Hermione reprimanded.
"Hermione, it's been days since we've been together for more than a quick shag," whined Daphne. "Ever since Harry's come back, we haven't had the chance to really spend time together. I'm not blaming anybody. But, hell, even Susan's love life isn't affected as badly as ours. She's out on a date with Carl right now. I just miss waking up in your arms, Hermione."
"I miss it too, baby," Hermione said, cupping her lover's face in her hands. "It's just that right now I'm too tired to appreciate you the way that I should. I don't want to do that to you. I'll make it up to you; I have a day off at the end of the week. We'll have an early lunch at some fancy place and then we'll spend the rest of the day in bed together, okay?"
With a smile, Daphne suggested; "Maybe we can convince Susan to pick up your shift that day as well. That way we can spend even more time together."
"That would be great," Hermione said, a bloom appearing on her cheeks. She kissed Daphne hungrily before leaving.
A few hours later, Daphne drifted off to sleep. She dreamt of the day she and Hermione planned. The food was fabulous but it wasn't nearly as good as the sex that followed. She dreamed she had brought Hermione to climax time and time again. When it was time for Hermione to return the favor, the brunette witch knelt between Daphne's legs. The black haired witch growled in anticipation.
Suddenly, Daphne's dream-world shifted; Hermione was no longer between Daphne's legs. But rather, the brunette was sitting at the top of the bed with Daphne's head was resting in her lap.
"What are you doing up here?" Daphne asked, smiling up at her lover. "You won't be able to satisfy me from there."
"Don't worry, love. You'll be satisfied," Hermione said coyly. She indicated with a glance that Daphne should look down the bed.
Daphne grinned when she saw Harry, still deathly emaciated, kneeling between her legs. The dark haired witch was not surprised or frightened by Harry's sudden appearance. In fact, she wanted it. At the sight of his large organ standing proudly, hovering a breath away from her clit, Daphne spread her legs even wider, inviting him into her.
A happy moan escaped Daphne's throat as Harry's crown pushed passed her vulva. His organ was filling her up. The large odd bumps massaged her inner walls, sending wave after wave of delight through her body.
Hermione stroked Daphne's hair lovingly with a bemused look to her face. Daphne knew that her lover was enjoying the look of pleasure on her face while Harry's manhood stretched her out.
Daphne looked to her right and found Susan kneeling naked next to the bed, watching the couple making love.
The red-haired witch seemed transfixed by Harry's organ sliding in and out of Daphne's flower.
Licking her lips, Hermione asked Daphne; "Are you enjoying yourself?"
There wasn't any hint of jealousy in Hermione's voice, only love. Hermione took one of Daphne's nipples in her hand and started to tweak the sensitive flesh.
"Yes," Daphne answered with a hiss.
"Would you like me to lend a hand?" Susan asked from the side of the bed.
"Yes-s-s!"
Smiling, Susan reached out and slid her hand in between Harry and Daphne's bodies. At the same time Hermione leaned over Daphne and began to sensuously kiss Harry as he continued thrusting into the witch. Susan's hand slipped down Daphne's svelte, sweat covered belly. The moment the witch's finger brushed up against her clit, Daphne awoke.
She was sitting across the room from Harry. Her knickers were practically sopping. She had never had a dream so intense, so real. It felt almost as f she actually had an orgasm, with her three lovers all touching her.
Looking up at Harry, Daphne saw the bulge in the sheets, as if Harry had known what she had been dreaming.
x
x
"How was your date?" Daphne asked when Susan walked into Hagrid's hut to take the morning watch.
"Oh, just wonderful," the red haired witch said in an emotionless way. "Just grand."
"What happened?" Daphne asked. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, just fine," Susan replied. "I'm just tired is all."
"Do you want me to cover your watch?" the dark haired witch said and she cupped her friend's face in her hands. Daphne was suddenly reminded of her vivid dream as she held Susan's face. The image of Susan rubbing Daphne's swollen clit made her ache. Daphne forced her imagination back, something was clearly bothering Susan. And it wasn't appropriate for Daphne to have such thoughts when her friend was hurting. It looked to Daphne as if the red-head was on the verge of tears for some reason. "Why don't you head home and a kip."
"No, I'm fine. Really," Susan said, forcing a light smile. "You go spend some time with Hermione."
"You sure?" asked Daphne. She was concerned for Susan, but she was looking forward to spending time with Hermione. After the dream she had, Daphne needed to be shagged desperately.
"Yes, I'm sure. Go and give Hermione a kiss for me, okay?" Susan said, ushering Daphne to the door. To show the black haired witch that she was indeed fine, she joked, "In fact, do more than just kiss her for me, if you know what I mean. Lick her and poke her or whatever it is you two do to each other when you're alone."
"If you insist," Daphne said with a smile before Apparating away.
The moment after Daphne vanished, Susan let out a long sigh. She hated lying to Daphne but she had to continue the ruse that she and Carl were still together. Susan even went to go out to dinner by herself, telling her friends that she had a date with Carl to perpetuate the subterfuge. She couldn't bring herself to tell them the truth yet.
Just that night however, when she was out on one of her "fake dates", she stumbled across Carl. The son of a bitch was already with another witch! The two were sitting very close to each other; the witch was practically in his lap, laughing softly at whatever the bastard was saying. The scene infuriated Susan. Just days ago, he broke her heart, and now he had a tramp draped across him. When she saw Carl's hand slip down under the table, Susan knew that he had put a hand on the witch's thigh; he had often done that same thing to her. Susan had to get out of there; she couldn't bear to see Carl, much less with another witch.
Susan almost took Daphne up on her offer go back to the flat. She was dead tired and had barely slept a wink. She forced herself to stay awake for she feared she'd see Carl with his new tramp in her dreams. The red haired witch needed to be alone, but she also needed to stay away from anything that reminded her of Carl. And her flat reminded her of her ex-boyfriend. She couldn't even contemplate sleeping in her bed; the bed that she and Carl shared many nights together.
Now that she was alone, essentially alone that is — Harry didn't count because he was in a coma — Susan let herself cry. She sobbed and wept for a good long time before she decided it was time to drown her sorrows, as she had planned.
She pulled the bottle of Fire-Whiskey from her robes and screwed the top off. Needing to get very pissed as quickly as she could, Susan abandoned all pretenses by placing the bottle to her lips and taking several large gulps of alcohol. The liquid burned her throat and made her eyes water as it poured down to her belly. She ignored the pain and took another long swig. Strange warmth filled her tummy, and quickly spread down her legs and up her chest. The third swig still burned, but not as much. With the fourth swig, her fingers began tingling and her head started to sway back and forth. In a few short minutes, Susan had successfully drunk nearly a sixth of the large bottle.
"What the fuck is his problem?" Susan asked the comatose Harry as if he had some insight on her problems regardless of the fact he was in a coma. Her voice was already slurring slightly from the whiskey. "I'm a pretty witch." She took another large gulp of alcohol. Imagining the comatose wizard was participating in the conversation, Susan said; "What was that Harry? You're right. I'm not just pretty, 'm beautiful. Just look as these tits. And don't forget my bum! If you were awake, I'd ask you to give it a good smack."
She took another long drink from the bottle, swallowing two mouthfuls before pulling to bottle from her lips. The liquid no longer burned, but now tasted sweet and smoky, like some exotic candy.
"I'm also a hoot," she continued talking to Harry as if they were having a conversation. "I'm funny as hell. And I like it in the bottom. What kind of bloke would pass up on a witch like that? Any wizard would give his wand to have a fun loving witch with big tits, a nice arse, and loves it in the bum."
The red haired witch drank two more gulps of the amber liquor. The interior of the hut began to sway in her vision.
"What was that Harry?" she said. "You're right again, Harry. Carl's a fool to toss me to the side. Fuck him.
"And that tripe about me not giving good head was just stupid. He just said that to get me mad," she continued, her voice growing louder and the words slurring together more and more as the alcohol took its toll. "'m great at blow-jobs. Just ask any of my ex-boyfriends"
Suddenly, Susan began to sob. She fell to her knees with the realization she had to now list Carl, the wizard she hoped to marry, with the rest of her ex-boyfriends. The shock of this revelation surprised her and had broken down her already weakened resolve.
She set the bottle down on the floor and stood up. The floor was hard and she found herself wanting to sit on something more comfortable. Susan swayed and staggered to Harry's bed. Missing the bed entirely and flopping gracelessly on the floor next to it. Forgetting her desire to get off of the hard floor, the red head leaned toward Harry's face and began to whisper in his ear.
"You'd never do that to me would you, Harry?" she asked as she twirled her finger in her own short hair. She could smell her own breath, rank and foul with alcohol. "Nah, you're not the type. I didn't get to know you all that well at school, but Hermione talks 'bout you all the time. And from what she told us, you'd never dump a witch just 'cause you got bored with her."
Wriggling up until she was half laying on the bed, she rested her head on his bare chest and continued to talk in a rambling and disjointed fashion.
"She loves you, ya know. I don't think she really realizes it herself, but she does. Truly and completely and madly in love with you. She's with Daphne now, but if you were to open your pretty green eyes and ask you her to be with you, she might jump you right there and then. Though, Hermione's too noble to just abandon Daphne. She's just like you in that aspect. So even if you two were to fall madly in love, Hermione wouldn't just dump Daphne. But then again, I think she's infatuated with you too, Daphne that is. Hell, I'm a little smitten as well.
"You can't blame me or Daphne," she continued. "You're so fuckin' brave, valiant, kind, and noble. And that penis of yours... Woo-hoo! Nice and big and fat... if I knew you had that between your legs at school, I would've jumped you. Dragged you into a cupboard, I would've. Leaned you against the wall and beat my cunny up with your Bludgers' bat."
As if his body knew what Susan was talking about, Harry's organ began to swell once more.
"Oh, there you go again," Susan commented as his penis rose up under the sheet. "It's like bloody clockwork, it is. Don't be ashamed Harry, its nature. Hermione told me she read somewhere that males get an average of three erections a night. And you should be proud of it as well. Look at it! It even dwarfs Carl's! Dickless piece of crap that he is.
"Speaking of Carl, d'ya know what he said to me?" she asked Harry. "He said I gave lousy blow-jobs... oh, wait... I already told you 'bout that didn't I?"
Her eyes fell once more on the bulge in the sheets covering Harry's nether region.
"You poor man," she slurred soothingly. "Here you are, all hard and stuff, day after day and you've haven't cum once. I mean, I've lost count how many times I've see that tent in those sheets."
Susan groped at the sheet and pulled it down and off of Harry's still body. She tossed the bed cover to the ground. This action nearly robbed her of her poor balance and almost sent her crashing to the floor once more. Righting herself, Susan returned her focus to Harry. Her eyes traveled over his scarred flesh until she took in his manhood.
"Oh-ho, just look at that thing!" she heralded drunkenly. "Damn, I still think I could use it as a coat rack."
As she giggled over her own joke, another tingle danced through her body. However, this tingle had nothing to do with the Fire-Whiskey. Biting her lip, she repeated; "Poor, poor man... hasn't cum once..." Unconsciously, her fingertips swirled around the sensitive skin of her nipple through her robes as she continued to eye Harry. The alcohol and lust she was feeling was making her dizzy. "It must be bothersome, huh, Harry? Having all those wonderful erections and not once getting to cum... I'm surprised your nuts aren't glowing blue right now."
With a guilty expression, the red haired witch looked around, as if worried someone was watching. Certain that they were alone; Susan reached under her skirt and started to take her knickers down. The proper part in her mind pleaded with her not to do it. She listened, but only a little.
"It's unfair if I leave him aroused, the poor man," she argued aloud with herself after hoisting her knickers back up. "No shagging then. Just a blow job... give him some relief at least. And prove to Carl, damn him, that I can give good head."
The red haired witch crawled clumsily on the bed and straddled the comatose wizard's feet. Gently, she wrapped her fingers around the base of his organ to hold it in place.
"He, he, my fingers can't touch," she giggled drunkenly. "Big, fat willy."
The heat coming from his organ made her hand warm. She bent over and ran her tongue along the underside of his rod. Harry smelt and tasted earthy; a pleasant smell like grass and trees after a rain shower. Her tongue moved over his veins and the unnatural bumps, painting each one with her saliva in turn, until she reached his bulbous crown. The tip of her tongue traced the head and danced along his urethra. Her lips encircled his crown and she began to move up and down. Harry's rod pressed down on her tongue and filled her mouth.
"Big, fat, beautiful willy," she slurred.
Reaching between her own legs, Susan began to rub herself through her knickers. Normally, she would get slightly aroused when performing fellatio. But for some reason, she was especially hot while giving Harry head.
She swallowed a bit of his pre-cum. It tasted like something sweet and musky and made her tongue tingle.
Susan moaned on his organ as she thumbed her clit. She was so wet and hot that her knickers were already soaked. Never before had she been so aroused while giving head.
A few moments later, Harry's organ jumped in her mouth and his seed splashed on her tongue and the insides of her cheeks. The moment his ejaculate landed in her mouth, a strong sensation akin to a static spark rushed through Susan's entire body. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she shivered. It wasn't an orgasm, but it was intense and unlike anything she had ever felt before.
This odd sensation snapped her out of her drunken stupor and she realized what she had done. She shot up in horror, and looked down at Harry, his body wet with sweat. If Hermione or Daphne found out what she did, they would never forgive her.
Susan gulped and grabbed her wand. She quickly performed several cleansing charms on herself and Harry, removing any evidence. Chastising herself for molesting Harry, Susan put as much distance in between the wizard and herself. She sat in the far corner of the hut.
She was still tingling; not as acutely as a few moments before, but it was still there. Another sensation grew slowly inside her: she wanted to be close to Harry. It wasn't an urge to comfort the sick wizard, but a burning desire in her. She found herself wanting to lie next to him and place her hands on his body.
Susan squeezed her fists so tightly that her nails cut into her palms. She continued to squeeze, forcing the desire from her. Bile crept up her throat at the thought of what she had done. She hated herself for violating Harry. She was dirty. But a part of her wanted to crawl back into his bed and snuggle up to him which made her feel worst.
"You're a dirty little bitch, Susan," she cursed herself. She looked at the clock, praying that time would move faster so Hermione could take over her shift and Susan could leave the hut.
x
x
In the small house behind the Burrow, the pleasant aroma of Mafalda's cooking filled the air and made Ron's stomach growl in anticipation. He waited hungrily at the small table for his wife to bring him his meal. With a plate of steaming food held out in front of her, Mafalda walked to Ron and took her place across from him. Her husband proceeded to shovel the meal into his mouth, which Mafalda took as a compliment. The speed at which he gobbled down the food was a sign that he appreciated her cooking.
Once he was finished with his breakfast, Mafalda brought up a subject that had been bothering her since Ginny had discussed it with her.
"Ronnie, love, we have to talk," Mafalda stated.
"What is it, dear?" he asked, wiping food from his mouth with the sleeve of his robe.
"It's about your old girlfriend, the Muggle-born."
Ron felt like he was about to lose the food he had just eaten.
"What about her?" he asked through gritted teeth. Ron didn't like talking about the bitch.
"Well, you said that she tried to get those Muggles to capture you, that you heard her voice. She was the one to set them on you."
"Yeah, and it didn't work," Ron said. He had taken pride knowing that he had foiled Hermione's plans to ruin his life twice now.
"But it could've," Mafalda argued. "One of the Muggles could've gotten lucky and dragged you away. Ginny told me when the Muggles capture a witch or wizard, they give them some sort of potion, drugs I think she called them, and then the cut up the magical person; trying to find out how we can do magic."
"Yeah, but it didn't work," Ron pointed out. "I didn't get caught."
"But you could have," his wife repeated, tears shimmering in her eyes.
"Sweetie, I got away, I'm fine," Ron said as soothingly as he could.
"First, she tried to get you chucked into Azkaban. And then she tries to get you dissected by Muggles. What will she do next?" Tears trickled down her round cheeks.
"Don't worry. I've beat her plans to hurt me twice. I can do it again," he said confidently.
"No, Ronnie, I can't think about what she'll try next," Mafalda sobbed. "What if she succeeds? I can't live without my husband. And our baby can't live without its daddy!" she cried while holding the small bulge in her belly.
"It'll be okay," Ron said. "I can handle Granger."
"Damn it, Ronnie, listen to me," she wailed. "You have to report her. Tell your supervisor, Wright, what happened. What she did to you with those Muggles was against the law. Ginny told me so."
"I won't do that. This is a matter between her and me," he said firmly. What he didn't want to say was he couldn't possibly tell Wright what had happened. He was ashamed to admit Granger was toying with him. It made him feel less of a man. He wasn't about to share his humiliation with anyone.
Standing, Ron kissed his wife on the cheek and patted her belly.
"I have to go. My shift starts in five minutes," Ron said with a comforting grin. "Why don't you spent the day with Mum; she'll make you feel better."
With that, he stepped out of his home and Apparated to work.
x
x
Hermione was pleased; the potions they had been giving Harry finally seemed to have started to work. It looked like he gained a few pounds, not much but it was an improvement. And Daphne had informed Hermione she had seen him move his fingers a little, which Hermione took as wonderful news. Hopefully, if this continued, Harry would be awake in a matter of time.
Something bothered her though, according to all of the research she had done on the various healing potions and charms they used on Harry, once signs of progress had begun, the healing should've become accelerated. Even with the extensive damage Harry had received, the potions and charms should have, by all accounts, been working faster. Even though she took whatever progress as a blessing, doubt still plagued her.
x
x
It had been four days since her mistake with Harry. Susan could not stop thinking about it. The way he felt in her mouth; the memory of his warmth and taste intoxicated her. She thought herself as a dirty and disturbed witch not only for molesting poor Harry, but for continuing to have such desires.
And those desires were not confined to her visits to the hut. The day after the incident, while she was at work, Susan accidentally dozed off and had a dream that had made her even more ashamed. She was dreaming of Harry in her mouth; it was so vivid that she could once again taste and smell him. As she worked on him in the dream, Daphne and Hermione worked on Susan. Her two flat mates used their tongues on Susan's nether region. When Susan woke up, her knickers were sopping wet, and her body was begging for release.
When it was her turn to watch over him, Susan ignored the desire to touch him, but it was constantly there; lurking beneath the surface. Ever since that dream, she was having more and more trouble fighting off the urges to repeat her actions with Harry. While she sat with him, she tried to busy her mind with other tasks; such as reading books or tidying up the hut. Susan did notice something odd when she was with him however; despite the fact that she was berating herself for molesting Harry, she felt simply happy and content whenever she was close to him. Also, Harry seemed to thrive, ever so slightly, in her presence. He even raised his hand up several inches one day while she was dusting some furniture next to the bed. Susan couldn't explain it, but somehow she knew Harry was getting stronger only when she was around.
But by the fourth day, Susan's resolve failed. She felt as if Harry was calling out to her throughout the evening as she worked at the Ministry building; the phantom calling made her tingle and ache. When she slept, she dreamt again of his manhood in her mouth and how hot it had made her. It was a silly thing to think that Harry was calling to her; the man was comatose and hundreds of miles away. Even though she knew the idea of Harry needing her and was calling to her was just a figment of her imagination, Susan needed him; to take in his aroma, to feel him, to run her hands over his frail body.
"Hi, Daphne," Susan greeted her friend as she walked into the hut, trying desperately to hide her arousal from her friend. "How's Harry today?"
"He's still hasn't made a sound, but he's definitely improving," Daphne answered. "I think he's gained about five pounds over the last day or two."
"Great," Susan stated. Her eyes focused on Harry and she imagined him urging her to his bed.
"Well, I'm off," Daphne said and she headed to the door. "Me and the little lady are going out for an early lunch today."
"Enjoy yourself," Susan said.
"You too," Daphne returned and walked out the door. With a wink, she added "Don't do anything I wouldn't do," before she Apparated away.
For a split second, Susan was worried Daphne had known what she was planning on doing after the black haired witch left. But Daphne's comment was innocent.
Now that she was alone with Harry, she took a deep breath and moved toward him. As she made her way to his bed, his organ began to swell up beneath the sheet. It was as if he was anticipating her.
Susan began to strip. Her body was tingling all over in anticipation. Goose flesh blossomed over her skin as her heart raced.
x
x
With a crack, Daphne arrived outside the flat she, Hermione, and Susan shared. She opened the door to find her lover sitting at the kitchen table, looking over old reports.
"Hello, love. What are you reading?" Daphne asked, hugging Hermione from behind.
Hermione turned and kissed Daphne's lips before answering; "I'm reading up on the Gaunt family history. I'm trying to see if they had some property that Voldemort is using as a hide out."
The brunette witch set down her paper and stood. She embraced Daphne and gave her a proper kiss.
"You ready for our date?" Hermione asked.
"In a bit," Daphne answered in between licking her lips. "I need to shower first. You can join me if you want," she stated knowingly.
"The reservation is in twenty minutes," Hermione said with a frown. "We'll be late if we dawdle."
"Aw, but I like it when we dawdle," Daphne said with a fake pout. "Especially when we dawdle together in the shower."
"Hurry or we'll be late," Hermione finished giving a playful swat on her lover's bottom.
x
x
Susan had been so aroused and wet at the thought of Harry she didn't need to prepare herself. The moisture trickled down the insides of the thighs as she mounted Harry. Her wetness coated his shaft as she lowered herself on him. The large, strange bumps on his organ rubbed and massaged her labia and clitoris as it pushed into her, sending shivers of delight through her body.
Once she took him completely in, she sat on his lap. He was very large, stretching her out more than she had been in a long time. She took several deep breaths as she became accustomed to his length and girth. When she had become acclimated to his size, she slowly raised herself up. Each time one of the bumps on his shaft popped out of her, it sent intense waves of pleasure through her body. She then lowered herself back down again.
It was amazing. It wasn't just the fact he was large and filled her up. It was so much more than that. Susan couldn't explain it, but when she was slowly riding on the comatose man, it felt as if they were connected on a spiritual level. As if he was touching her mind and soul with his.
x
x
As Daphne rinsed the suds from her lean body, she suddenly recalled the present she had bought for Hermione. It was just a simple heart shaped locket she had found in Diagon Alley. Daphne hadn't purchased it for any special occasion; she just thought of Hermione when she saw it. Daphne had forgotten it back at the hut. Cursing herself for her forgetfulness, she hopped out of the shower and dressed quickly. She rushed back into the parlor, saying, "Hermione, I forgot something at the hut. I'll be right back."
"Make it quick, sweetie," Hermione said with a smile. "Our reservation is in five minutes. We can't be late."
"Don't worry," Daphne said and gave her lover a peck on the lips. "I'll be back in a mo'."
Daphne closed her eyes and felt as if she was being squeezed through a tube. When she opened them back up, she found herself in front of the hut's door.
x
x
Susan was moaning loudly. She had already had one mind-blowing orgasm and another, stronger one, was rapidly building. Her nipples were hard and erect and her skin was on fire. She felt as if she was about to burst. Sweat dripped from her naked body and rained down on Harry's. The red haired witch bit her lip when she felt the climax approaching.
She desperately wanted his hands on her; to squeeze her breasts, pinch her hard nipples and run his hand through her hair. But his catatonic state refused her this pleasure.
x
x
She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Daphne was standing in the doorway of the hut, still gripping the handle and couldn't tear her eyes away from the disturbing scene in front of her.
Susan was riding Harry! The red-haired witch was naked and shagging the wizard. She was obviously in ecstasy judging by her flushed complexion and how her eyes were tightly closed.
Daphne was so shocked at what she saw she couldn't move or make a sound. She stood in the doorway and watched in awe struck horror. Her best friend was molesting a comatose man!
But deep down inside, Daphne felt a pang. It was small, almost unnoticeable, but it was there. She was stunned to find that a part of her was envious of Susan.
x
x
She felt him cum. Much like the time he ejaculated in her mouth, Susan felt a bizarre sensation wash over her. But unlike the intense tingling that she felt the first time, it was much more powerful. The best way she could describe it was something similar to an electrical current or jolt, but it didn't hurt. In fact, it was just as pleasurable as an orgasm.
Panting, she rested on top of Harry, as he grew limp inside of her. With her eyes closed, she pressed her ear to his chest and listened to him breathing. His breaths were slow and deep and his heart pounded rhythmically in his chest. Then a realization dawned upon Susan; Harry was growing stronger. She had no idea how she knew this, but she was positive it was true.
"What they hell do you think you're doing?" a furious voice demanded.
Susan's eyes snapped open and she saw Daphne standing in the doorway. The black haired witch's face was red with rage and had tears flowing freely from her eyes.
"What do you think you're doing?" Daphne repeated angrily.
Panic took hold of Susan. Her best friend had just found her doing something foul: using a sick man to pleasure herself.
With her voice quivering, Susan said weakly "I-I'm s-sorry."
"Get off of him! Get off of him RIGHT NOW!" screamed Daphne.
"I'm so s-ss-sorry," Susan repeated and she slowly dismounted Harry. She hastily picked up her robe and clutched it to her chest in a vain attempt to hide her body in shame.
"What the hell were you thinking?" Daphne demanded. Her voice was marred with sadness and anger.
Great globs of shameful tears spilled from Susan's eyes as she tried vainly to find the words to explain the situation.
x
x
Hermione checked the clock on the mantle place. Daphne was late by two minutes. Fearing that something was wrong at Hagrid's hut, Hermione Apparated directly to the small building, just outside the open door.
"Answer me, you disgusting pervert!" Hermione heard Daphne demand.
"What's going on here?" the brunette witch asked when she walked into the hut.
Several things caught Hermione's attention. First the smell; there was a faint musky aroma in the air that reminded her of the times she and Daphne were intimate. Then she noticed Susan's appearance. She was naked, clutching her robes to her body, futilely trying to hide herself. The red haired witch also had a tussled look about her. Besides the tears flowing freely down her face, Susan's hair was mucked up and she had a film of sweat coating her body.
When she saw Harry's body, Hermione's blood boiled. He, too, was dripping with sweat. But it was the sticky looking mess coating his genitals that infuriated her.
She stormed up to Susan and roughly smacked the witch across her face as hard as she could. Susan reeled back from the blow. The red haired witch fell against Harry's bed, where she sobbed hysterically.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" screeched Hermione. Spit flew from her mouth as she screamed. Rage consumed her, Susan had used Harry and it reminded Hermione of when she was raped. "YOU FUCKING SICK BITCH!""
"Her-Hermione... calm down..." Daphne requested. She too was furious at Susan, but Hermione was starting to scare her. Her lover's face had turned a fiery red and veins ballooned all over her face and neck. Daphne was frightened that Hermione was going to hurt herself if she continued.
"NO, I WILL NOT CALM DOWN!" Hermione shouted at Daphne. She turned back to Susan and screamed, "YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD USE MY FRIEND LIKE A DILDO, YOU SICK CUNT?"
"Hermione, stop shouting," a soft and weak voice requested from somewhere in the room.
"DID YOU GET OFF RAPING MY FRIEND? DID YOU?" the brunette witch screamed. Everything in the room was a blur except for Susan. Every fiber of her being was burning with rage and it all focus on Susan.
Susan sobbed guiltily.
"I've a headache," the soft voice stated.
"YOU COULD'VE KILLED HIM IN HIS WEAKENED STATE!" Hermione cried out. "DID YOU NEED TO GET SHAGGED SO BADLY THAT YOU WOULD RISK KILLING HIM?"
"Hermione," Daphne said and gently touched Hermione's arm.
"YOU DIRTY SLUT!"
"Hermione!" Daphne called out and shook her lover's arm. Hermione snapped her attention to Daphne, ready to unleash her anger at the black haired witch for interrupting her righteous rage. That was when she saw Daphne was pointing to Harry's bed.
Frail, thin arms moved right before Hermione's eyes. The emaciated limbs brought up skeletal hands to cover a gaunt face. His jaw opened and a soft and weak voice came from his lips.
"Please Hermione, stop shouting. I've got a bad headache," Harry Potter said.
To be continued…
