Chapter 36: Extracurricular research
Author's note: I've shamelessly lifted most of the spells in this chapter from other fics, mostly from the wonderful LadyoftheMasque's 'For Someone Special'. If you haven't read it, and like a hefty dose of BDSM in your fanfic, I heartily recommend it.
Chapter Text
Magic and sexuality have long been intricately knotted together. It is common knowledge, of course, and unavoidable fact, that magical children come into sexual maturity earlier than their muggle counterparts, and spend their teenaged years in hormone-charged lust.
Harriet stroked the end of her quill against her cheek absently. She'd disguised the spoils of her midnight trek to the library as defence textbooks, and she hadn't been able to resist bringing them to a study session with her friends. The fact that Malfoy had also shown up had almost put her off reading them, but tucked in the corner of the library as she was, no one else could see the words she read. She was carefully ignoring Malfoy's knowing glances.
It is also a known fact that most wizards and witches enjoy a higher libido than muggles. Therefore, it is perhaps to be expected that what the non-magical population considers deviant sexuality is far more common in the wizarding world. Many of these practices fall under the umbrella of what has come to be known as BDSM. This label spans many activities, from casual bedroom games through to major lifestyle decisions, and is increasingly also used to cover the marital dynamic traditional to purebloods, where a husband takes on a head of household role, managing the behaviour and discipline of not only his children and servants but also his wife.
Harriet glanced at Draco beneath her eyebrows. Was drugging your wife considered a form of discipline? She'd felt sorry for Draco, having such a bizarre familial situation, but then, perhaps it was normal for him. Maybe that was what he'd do with his wife if he felt it necessary.
He must have felt his gaze on her, because he looked up, straight at her, and gave a knowing smirk. She quickly returned her gaze to her book, skipping over the rest of the introduction and flipping the page to the table of contents.
Chapter one: The psychology behind BDSM
Chapter two: Spanking: by hand or by wand?
Chapter three: Bondage: rope and magical alternatives
Chapter four: Creative discipline
Chapter five: Preparing for sodomy
"Harriet, why are you blushing?" Ron asked suddenly, quite distracted from his Transfiguration essay.
"Wha… what d'you mean?" Harriet stammered.
"Ron's right… you're all red," Hermione agreed, peering at her friend.
Draco gave a languorous shrug. "Who among us can know the filthy contents of our Miss Potter's mind?" he drawled, smirking at Harriet. His words didn't help the reddening of her cheeks, and she quickly picked up her charms textbook instead. The words didn't penetrate her brain, though. She had quite different thoughts on her mind.
She knew what sodomy was. She'd spent most of her life thinking she was a gay male, after all. She'd considered the notion of anal sex, but it had always been abstract, like someday she might do it. She'd never quite been able to imagine any of her various love interests actually doing it… not Cedric Diggory or Oliver Wood, even though she'd tried. But now… perhaps it was because she'd actually had sex. The thought of doing something so… forbidden with Robin made her breath catch in her throat, and she wasn't sure if it was in terror or anticipation. She shook her head a little at her silliness. What was to say that Robin would even want to do something like that? It was a gay thing, wasn't it?
"Earth to Harriet!" Hermione said, waving her hand in front of Harriet's face.
Harriet jerked in surprise. "What?" she asked vacantly.
"Well, I was asking if you were coming to the common room, but you're clearly not hearing anything right now. What is wrong with you tonight?"
"Erm, just a bit tired. Think I'll stay here and finish up some work," Harriet replied.
Ron snorted. "Ah, it's Thursday, and we all know what Harriet does Wednesday night!"
Harriet kicked him under the table, glancing in the direction of Draco, and of Luna, who had joined them too. She needn't have bothered: Madam Pince appeared from around the shelving to smartly tap Ron on the head with a book. "Be quiet, or leave," she informed the group with a hiss.
"I'm going, I'm going…" Ron protested, rubbing his head whilst gathering his parchment with the other hand. Hermione stifled a giggle, and everyone but Harriet and Draco gathered up their work and left. She was wishing she'd gone with them now: she didn't much fancy the jollity of the common room, but now she was here, alone with Draco… and she knew it would look odd if she left now, having just said she had work to do. She bent her head over her Charms work.
For a while, they scribbled in silence. Predictably, it was Draco who spoke first: Harriet was wishing she was somewhere, almost anywhere, else. "I apologise if I startled you unduly yesterday," Draco said quietly, after a glace about to make sure that the librarian was nowhere in sight. Harriet made a noncommittal noise. Draco was undeterred. "So," he continued in a conversational tone (or as conversational as one could make a library-suitable whisper), "what are your Wednesday evening activities?"
Harriet's heart seized. Damn Ron and his big mouth! "Defense club," she muttered back shortly, not looking up.
She could hear Draco's grin anyway when he spoke. "I can't imagine defence club tires you so very much," he said. "Do you always take a nocturnal ramble on a Wednesday night?"
"Do you always break curfew?" Harriet riposted sharply.
Draco shrugged, seemingly not in the least put out by her question. "Sometimes," he replied. "Tell me, who is it you're sleeping with? I can't get so much as a whisper from the gossips, and I'm quite dying of curiosity. I simply must know who it is that makes you so unwilling to take me up on my offer."
"I'm not sleeping with anyone, Malfoy!" Harriet hissed, slamming her book shut. A loud throat-clearing came from the direction of the librarian's desk.
Draco leaned back in his chair, eyeing her speculatively. She glared back at him, not entirely sure why she was still here. "You haven't called me Malfoy in weeks," Draco noted. "Months, perhaps. Something has you all het up."
Suddenly, he was out of his chair, standing over her. For all that she was on her feet now, and all the lamps were lit, it felt like last night, when he'd had her captive in the restricted section. She held her breath, trembling. Why was she still here? her rational mind demanded to know. She could just walk off… Draco slipped a cool hand beneath the heavy braided rope of her hair, gripping the back of her neck lightly. "You need it, Harriet," he breathed into her ear. "You need a wizard. I can feel it coming off you in waves, my pet. I can feel your desire."
"Let me go," she hissed. "I'm not 'your' anything."
The hand was gone, and he stepped back, giving her room to breathe. "As you wish, princess," he acquiesced silkily. "But you know where to find me."
"In your dreams," she riposted, clutching her books tightly to her chest.
She heard a slight chuckle from Draco as she fled back to her room.
She flung her books onto her laden table. What had Draco meant, that he could 'feel it coming off her in waves'? Tired, she curled up in her armchair, a wave of her wand sending the kettle to heat over the fire. Could Draco tell when she was, well, aroused? She'd found herself with her hands buried firmly between her thighs almost every night for weeks now. She and Robin hadn't had much opportunity for sex of late- it had taken until Christmas for her to be healed enough for him to be confident in touching her, and there hadn't exactly been much call for amorous activities the night before. Was that what Draco had meant? But how on earth could he tell? She shook her head and decided to try to put Malfoy out of her mind. A large mug of tea and some of the cauldron cakes left by Dobby should manage quite nicely, she thought.
It was still with a deep sigh that she pulled her charms textbook towards herself, having settled her tea precariously on the arm of the sofa. Colour changing charms just couldn't hold her attention, she finally decided, having turned her hair a strange dusty pink instead of the cauldron cake she'd been aiming for. Her heart clearly wasn't in it. Instead, her attention kept dawdling back to the book sitting on top of her pile of work.
With a sigh, she summoned the book, sending it zooming into her hand. She flipped the book open at random, landing in the chapter dedicated to what the author termed 'creative punishments'. She giggled at some: one suggestion was to tickle one's partner. Some sounded less silly, but in no way dangerous as she had expected: one that came highly recommended was the application of long lasting stinging charms to the sensitive regions of the submissive. It was clear that the book was written with a dominant wizard and submissive witch in mind, but this particular punishment, the author informed her, was best utilised on the ring of muscle guarding the anus, and thus, could be used on either sex. He based it, he said, upon a muggle practice known as 'figging', in which a stinging substance was placed to prevent the buttocks clenching during a spanking. A little over-the knee spanking seemed positively tame compared to all of this. She shook her head at her own silliness. None of this was abuse: it was as Robin said: a game. All through the book, the author pushed the use of what he termed a 'safe-word'.
Whilst marital traditionalists, who insist upon the superiority of the husband, may find the idea of allowing the submissive an escape from the proceedings positively ridiculous, it must be considered. One would never wish to cause actual harm or distress, as this could cause physical injury or a rift so deep in the relationship as to never be healed. It is for this reason that all considering this type of relationship must, at the beginning, set out their expectations and agree upon a word, phrase or action that will, under any circumstances, bring a halt to proceedings.
Whilst for many, a simple 'stop' or 'halt' may be sufficient, if the couple are to engage in any play acting of reluctance, a different signal should be chosen. This should be a phrase that would otherwise not come up in the course of play, such as 'quaffle' (unless the submissive is to be an unruly quidditch player) or 'puffskein'.
Harriet giggled at the idea of an unruly quidditch player being spanked. It actually sounded almost fun. The chapter on spanking suggested that bending over a hovering broomstick made the bottom an excellent target.
Her charms book seemed to stare at her reproachfully for giggling when she should be working. Maybe she could at least pretend it was work. She flipped through to the 'compendium of useful charms' at the back. She took a gulp of tea and almost choked on it reading through some of the spells suggested.
A spell to conjure ropes and bind: Holding the wand loosely, incant the word 'relligo' whilst maintaining a circular motion with the wand around the limb or other area to be bound. To increase the tension, increase the speed of the wand motion. With practice and creative wand movements, this spell can be used very effectively for many binding purposes.
A charm to keep a paddle or other disciplinary implement in motion: The basis of this charm is 'everbero', but it must be followed by the part of the body to be struck: for example, to keep a paddle striking the buttocks, the words 'everbero gluteus' should be cast upon the paddle. Caution should be exercised in the long-term use of this charm to ensure no injury comes to the submissive.
A purgative charm to empty the bowels in preparation for sodomy: (see chapter five for a full explanation of this charm before usage) 'Purgatio'.
A spell to remove the body hair: The ex folliculus charm may be used here, but with great caution. Hair removal potions usually provide better results.
A spell to lubricate: Lubricus, with the wand indicating the orifice to be lubricated. However, this spell is vastly inferior to the use of lubricating potions.
A charm to open and stretch an orifice: Laxo is the basic form, followed either by 'vagina' or 'anus' as necessary. This charm should not be used to remove the gag reflex and stretch the throat, instead using:
A charm to suppress the gag reflex in order to engage in fellatio: Oscitrudim, with the wand aimed to the mouth. This unusual charm will force a yawn in the recipient, properly opening the throat.
Harriet yawned herself just reading about the reflex. She idly wondered how one would breathe, having a penis shoved down one's throat, and shook her head at her silliness. It didn't sound much like anything mentioned in this book was outright abuse, and it went so much further than Robin's thoughts. In fact, it did all seem a little… silly, as if it was a very in-depth game. In fact, his little spanking demonstration had seemed downright tame: just his hand, no paddles, no spells. If all this really was as common in the magical world as the book suggested, maybe it just was fun between people who engaged in an awful lot of sex. Fun as sex was, she was guessing that the same old thing, sometimes multiple times a day, for wizard lifespans would certainly get old. She finished the last of her tea and set the book aside, going to ready herself for bed.
She was careful to locate the glass dildo that Robin had given her before she climbed into bed, taking it with her. She swept the cold head up, splitting her already moisture-slicked lips wide before she worked it inside her, pumping it carefully with one hand whilst the fingers of the other tickled against her clit. Coming was not so hard, but it didn't feel entirely satisfactory anymore, just leaving her with the sensation of emptiness in body and soul. She rolled over with a huff and went to sleep.
Everyone seemed grumpy the next morning at breakfast. Neville was always tired and short tempered these days- Harriet had tried to speak to him on a few occasions, but the once happy and open young man had become sharp and resentful. It was only when Luna was there that he showed any affection to anyone anymore: with her he was gentle again. Hermione was tired, having stayed up reading, and no one could guess the cause of Ron's foul mood. He just scowled at his eggs.
The arrival of the morning post mode a welcome distraction from the glum faces. Hermione unfurled her daily prophet, thumbing through it, even as Neville groaned at another letter from his grandmother.
A handsome snowy owl, bigger than Hedwig, swooped down to neatly deposit a cream envelope before Harriet. She frowned: she rarely received post, let alone such formal- looking post. Her heart skipped a beat when she spotted the name of the sender.
"Wha's tha'?" Ron asked around a mouthful of breakfast, stabbing his fork in her direction.
"It's from the Wizarding colleges," she said quietly.
Suddenly, all eyes nearby were on her. "Well," Hermione asked after a few moments of silence. "Aren't you going to open it?"
Harriet nodded, running her fingers along the upper edge for a few seconds. Hermione sighed. "Even if you didn't get in, Harriet, there are other places. It's the best of the best, you know that, right?"
"Yeah," she admitted, finally working up the courage to slide her finger beneath the flap and break the sealing wax. She unfurled the letter. Dear Miss Potter… Her eyes skimmed over the words.
"Well?" Ron asked, impatient.
"They… they want me to come for any interview on January the 21st," Harriet said quietly.
"Harriet, that's wonderful!" Hermione squealed. Harriet nodded, a slow smile finally spreading. Yeah, they hadn't accepted her…. yet. But they also hadn't rejected her. That had to be good news.
A high-pitched ringing sound filled the hall. "Boys and girls, if I could have your attention, please," Dumbledore called from the head table. His voice was magically amplified, something Harriet had never seen him do to get attention before. He was standing at his seat, leaning forwards to brace himself on the table. The hubbub of chatter died away and all faces turned to Dumbledore.
"Thank you," Dumbledore said, his voice still amplified. "Now, as I am sure the more eagle-eyed amongst you have noted, I am not terribly well. Along with the school's board of governors, I have decided that it would be best for me to step back for a little while, until I have quite recovered."
An immediate roar of noise rose as the students looked askance at him and each other. He called for silence again. "Now, now," he said. "This is no cause for alarm. I will still be resident here, at the school, but I shall be keeping to myself in my chambers in order to rest and recuperate, on the orders of my healers. In my absence, Professor McGonagall will be taking on the duty as acting Headmistress. Professor Lupin will cover her role as head of Gryffindor in the meantime."
Harriet's eyes swept along the head table until she found the dark shape of Severus. His head was down, focused on his morning post. He didn't look up, though she could have done with a reassuring glance at that moment.
"Wow. Didn't see that one coming," Ron commented.
"Really, Ronald, how could you not?" Hermione snapped.
Ron pulled a face. "He's been here, like, forever, though," he groused. "He's kind of ageless."
"He's been really ill all year," Harriet said. "You must have noticed. He's hardly ever here, and when he is, he looks exhausted." She shot a sideways glance at Neville, who didn't look in the least surprised at the news from Dumbledore. She dropped her voice to a low whisper, forcing Ron and Hermione to lean in to hear her. "Severus has been going to dose him up on potions almost every night. I… I don't think he's going to live very long."
Even Hermione gasped at that revelation.