That M-rating becomes relevant going forward. Viewer discretion is extremely advised.


Another day passed.

And then, amazingly, so did another one.

Both times, he found himself without a plan for something to do. But finally, on the fourth day of the holidays, something… interesting happened.

Shifting his curtain out of the way, he awoke to find that snow was still falling. It had started last night before bed and seemed like it had no end in sight. There was an impenetrable, all-consuming mass of gray shadowing the sky, which he felt was a rather apt metaphor for his mood. In an act of determination, he found the strength in him to clean his dorm, finally moving away the empty butterbeer bottles that had put him to sleep about a week ago.

But it simply wouldn't do. Since the holidays had begun, spending the day with Daphne had been the only remotely enjoyable thing he'd done. And immediately after it was over he felt right back in the thick of it. So did that leave him having another attempt at trying to enjoy the day on his own, or did he throw in the towel and try to contact Ron or Hermione?

Now he'd broken down the mental blockage preventing him from cleaning up, he supposed it wouldn't be that much of a leap to board the train down to London. He could write to his friends, go get a ticket and spend the day with them in Diagon Alley… but that would mean getting the train back tomorrow, which was a big contributor. It meant having to stay overnight at either Ron's, which would make Hermione mad, or Hermione's, which would make Ron mad… or Grimmauld Place... And none of which seemed like it do anything for him other than make his situation worse on itself. Why did it all have to be so complicated? Why was being happy such unending effort?

Looking out of the window again, so much snow seemed to make telling where the mountains stopped and the sky began very difficult. Boundaries appeared unstable, as if all it would take is a push and everything would slowly fade away. He emphasized with it, greatly.

He began down to the Great Hall. Whatever he decided to do today, he'd need breakfast first. The more he thought about it, the more he was growing quite confident with the idea of a spontaneous trip to London. Honestly, it was something to do, at the very least. Whether it would actually serve to feed his insatiable appetite or spark a newfound drama with whoever he didn't decide to go with was beside the point - at least it was something to bloody do.

Walking inside, he saw that there were still as many students in here as there were on the first day of the holidays. Somewhere, he had been hoping others would begin to return when they saw there was no danger. If they had, that probably could have changed his mind about acting recklessly today.

As he dropped into a seat at the near-empty Gryffindor table, Daphne popped into view opposite him.

"Harry!"

"Gaahh!"

His head whipped around in surprise, causing her to retreat in fright. That had been bad timing. If he hadn't just started thinking about her at that very moment, he wouldn't have been nearly so startled.

"Sorry! Sorry! I was… w-was j-just w-wondering if you'd like to... hang out again? I.. I.. I m-made a…"

She thrust forward a woven wooden basket, as if hoping it would speak for her.

At this he noticed she'd changed into more casual clothing; this time a pair of shorts and a puffy, button-down shirt, similar to the one's he'd seen on the covers of Jane Austin novels, except olive green. Her glasses were again gone and replaced, presumably, with contacts. It was an outfit most unsuited to for the current weather.

Finally, he gathered her meaning.

"... a picnic?"

She nodded, looking terrified.

"... I… I thought it would be n-nice… we d-don't have to go out into the g-grounds for i-it… I know a quiet place… b-but it's inside a-and I k-know picnics are u-usually held o-outside so I-I…"

He held up a saving hand.

"I'd love to go on a picnic with you, Daphne."

He didn't really want to go to London, anyway. He was in no rush to repack his trunk so soon after emptying it, nor did he enjoy the prospect of venturing down to the station in this weather. Those were definitely the reasons, sure.

She shut up with a blush, then gave a small giggle. He didn't often know where he stood in their strange friendship, but somehow knew that such little gestures like that were something only he got to see.

As soon as he'd sat, he was back on his feet again.

"Lead the way, by all means. You want me to carry that?"

She nodded eagerly - so eagerly, in fact, it looked like it hurt, and set off.

As they exited the entrance hall, he took a look out at the clock tower, taking in the atmosphere. The snow had stopped and things outside seemed a lot clear now. Passing through the corridors, he watched the school grounds through the empty windows.

There really was nobody else there but them - he'd almost describe it as haunting. When he looked towards the mountains, the feel of isolation struck him very strongly, almost palpably. The hectic lifestyle of the muggle world seemed so far away and foreign here; nobody had to run to catch a train or get overwhelmed by flashing lights and traffic jams. Even the wizarding world, he felt like he'd taken a break from. Usually his isolation was accompanied by long-summers hauled up in a tiny room - to be so free, yet so separate, he'd never experienced anything like this.

He felt surprisingly optimistic about the holidays with this in mind, even if it was only going to be for a few short weeks. Finding out about the prophecy, losing Sirius and having to move away from home all came so suddenly he hadn't had time to fight any of it. But now… none of that seemed real. For the first time in his life, he didn't feel like Harry Potter.

As he passed one particular window, he felt warmth touching his back. The sun was shining from a perfectly clear sky. A cool breeze swept over a rooftop making him shiver, but only briefly. The blanket of snow seemed an afterthought to the current summer-like sky right now. Realizing he had zoned out, he turned to Daphne, ready to apologize, but found her quite distracted.

She was walking funny. Every now and again, she seemed to break her pace and step in slightly shorter steps. The first time it happened he thought she was limping again, but he soon noticed she wasn't doing it every time.

"Everything all right?"

"H-huh?"

"You're walking a bit funny."

She stopped dead in her tracks .A pink blush rose as her gaze returned to the floor.

"Oh, it's... it's nothing."

He raised an intrigued eyebrow.

"... righttt."

For a second he didn't think she was going to answer. Almost prepared to leave it be, he began walking again, but then...

"It's... you h-have to do it.."

"I… have to?"

"Look at how the cobblestones cross over..."

The ground looked like any other ground floor in the castle; covered in those cobblestones. Some of the higher floors had marble flooring, but he really didn't see the relevance.

"... what about it?"

"You... have to… t-try and stand on the longer ones without touching the others, it's… it's like a game."

Her voice trailed off until he could barely hear her voice over the roaring silence of the empty hall. Shuffling her feet, she pointed the toe of her shoe at a tile that was barely longer than the others.

"T-These ones."

"Right... so you can't touch these?"

He pointed at a nearby vertical tile.

"Yeah."

"Why not?"

"I… I-I don't know, it's just… it's fun."

He remembered playing a similar game himself, once upon a time. But this was when he was a kid, bored and walking around with the Dursleys. The more he learned about Daphne, the more she seemed to have retained a lot of stuff from childhood… he didn't know whether to be concerned about that or not. He wondered; just how lonely did someone have to be to still be doing that?

They set off down the hall again, and this time he noticed she was paying less attention to the floor. She looked now quite self aware, and soon after sought to return his gesture.

"I-Is everything okay with you?"

He thought about brushing her off with a rehearsed answer, but his solemn thoughts from earlier lingered on the brink of his conscience.

"Yeah… yeah, it is. Was just thinking how beautiful this place is when it's empty. It's like a whole other world."

But before he could realize what he was doing, he stepped on a cobblestone that was the wrong size.

"Missed one, dammit."

Guess that game was infectious.

She snorted. Her badly hidden smile proved quite rewarding.

She led them to a classroom where he followed her inside. The room was a little dilapidated, but it was clearly still being used. He noticed a door at the other end of the room - and was wrought by a sweeping recognition. This was the same Transfiguration room he'd spotted her in on the Marauders map, and the same one he encountered Davis in the same night.

"Why here?" he asked curiously.

Almost immediately, she looked hurt, like she'd done something wrong.

"I-I like it in here... Classroom eighty-six, me and Professor McGonagall used to have tea in here… D-Do you not like it?"

He jumped to the defense.

"It's fine! Honestly, it's great… just… curious…" he breathed. "You say that you and McGonagall used to have tea?"

She nodded, rubbing her arm anxiously.

"I-It's nothing… we still do, actually… Though, it has been a while."

Could that have been part of the 'measures taken' that McGonagall had told him in private?

They found a desk and he set down the basket. He then sat himself down on the corner of the bench to take up as little space as possible - these were designed for the younger students, so there wasn't a ton of room for the pair of them on one. As she moved into place next to him, her presence leaning against his arm was a very notable one.

As he opened the lid, he found a surprising amount of food prepared.

"Bloody hell, are we expecting company?"

"... I-I didn't realize I'd made so much… I'm sorry..."

He was taken aback so much, he bypassed the need to scold her for apologizing over something ridiculous again.

"You made all of this?" he asked incredulously.

"W-well, not the fruit or b-bread, I don't know how to make those… but I assembled it all t-together, I suppose…"

He held up a hand to stop her.

"Then I'll eat every bite. The more the merrier, I mean. What's your recommendation?"

He could see the relief plainly written across her face.

"Oh.. my… Erm, w-well, t-the sandwiches are fresh… the turkey legs are nice but will be cold by now… the rice is good if you like spicy food a-and… Whichever you would like, I guess…"

The conversation died off as he set about the business of feeding himself. There was such a vast variety that he didn't know where to start. He made a beeline for the sandwiches, of which there were four different fillings, but stopped short as he saw a container of turkey legs, and then behind that, a tub of rice. Had she brought so much because she was worried he wouldn't like a lot of it?

Committing, he brought himself out a turkey leg and took a few bites. He glanced up and noticed her opening a box of rice and popping a spoonful into her mouth.

He wasn't entirely sure of the common courtesy in this situation, but at least Daphne seemed at ease. Despite the relaxing feeling of being with her, he suddenly couldn't help feeling a little tense. What was this concern? He wasn't worried about making a twat out of himself a few days ago, so why was he suddenly overthinking his actions with her?

"You're a cook, then?"

She finished a mouthful of rice before nodding.

"I'm… okay. I think. I've been cooking for myself for a while, I don't usually get to make stuff for a-anyone else."

He finished his leg and began on a second one.

"Mmmhmm. Well, this is good. Mind you I'm useless with cooking, so…"

"I could teach you some time!"

Then she caught herself.

"If you w-want to, I mean… It's not massively different from potion brewing and you seem a genius at that..."

He laughed.

"I'm not that good. I just do what the books say."

"No, no, I saw you in Professor Slughorn's first lesson!" she pushed with hushed enthusiasm. "You're a natural, I've never seen anyone like it… I don't get why Snape was so awful to you, all those years…"

He shrugged, still unwilling to trade the Prince's secret.

"Because he's an arse... And I guess I just needed a good teacher. Hermione says I'm a product of my environment, whatever that means."

She nodded, before taking another spoonful of the rice.

"Hermione... Granger?" she said slowly.

Her tone piqued interest. He watched her from the corner of his eye.

"Yeah, her."

She continued chewing her mouthful and Harry considered her.

He knew how Hermione and the other girls felt about Daphne, but he really didn't know how that dynamic worked the other way. In fact, the only student he'd ever seen her have an opinion on was Davis. He imagined she would be put off from large groups of them - that would make sense, and fall in line with Hermione's opinion of her. It was strange - thinking of her and Daphne in the same notion seemed like some unnatural crossover like a fairytale made physical or describing an obscure dream to someone.

Reluctantly, he decided to push.

"You know her?"

She shook her head.

"No, not very much... We've been in revision groups together, though. We get similar grades, I think. She seems nice..."

He did recall Hermione saying something similar. He bobbed his head in agreement.

"Oh yeah, she's ace."

"You are with her a lot... a-are you... y-y-you... if y-you don't mind me asking..."

She began stumbling through her sentence again, so he brought up a saving hand.

"Not at all. She's like a sister to me... She also fancies Ron, but he's seeing someone else right now. Frankly, it's... well, it's all a bit of a mess in that department, really."

"Ahh..."

She took another spoonful of rice and conversation stagnated as she chewed it.

Honestly, he'd gotten that question so many times over the years, it didn't even embarrass him anymore. And he supposed it only natural for people to wonder. And if she was willing enough to share his company, he supposed it was the least he could do to pull back a bit of the curtain of his social life.

Finishing his second leg, he placed the bones of both back in the container he brought them from. Spoiled for choice, his hands lingered over the platter before eventually descending and beginning on a jam sandwich.

"W-well…" she began again. "... I could teach you how to cook, i-if you wanted… I'm not amazing myself but… but…"

"Sure, I'll think about it. Can't say I'm in any immediate rush to learn, but if we're all leaving next year, probably best I start early. I don't trust my house elf not to poison me."

"You have a house-elf?" she asked with surprise.

He chuckled darkly.

"Sirius did. Horrible little cunt, he is…"

She didn't say anything to this, and it took him a moment to guess why. His fingertips touched his mouth apologetically.

"Oh, sorry..."

She shook her head.

"No, no, it's okay…"

But he sensed he'd put her off. He didn't usually use such extreme language - supposed he'd just used to saying what he thought unfiltered these days?

"But, erm, yeah, I have a house-elf. Inherited it from Sirius. He's a horrible little bugger. Hated Sirius and seems to hate me just as much."

She had a mouthful of food so didn't acknowledge him immediately, but he sensed the quiet was a little more than that. Was he losing her? Had he somehow spoiled the mood?

No, he was being absurd. Why was he second-guessing himself so much now? It hadn't been like this yesterday.

"So... you never cook for Tracey then?" he tried.

For a split second, he thought she was about to launch her rice in the air from shock. That was not the reaction he was hoping for.

"W-well, s-s-she... doesn't really like... I don't r-really know what she likes to eat, specifically…"

She answered in the exact way people did when they absolutely did not want to be asked any more questions. He decided to back off… He didn't really know why he brought up that subject anyway. He knew she was a topic they'd have to breach eventually if they desired to keep this friendship up, but apparently, that was not today. His mind sped to change the subject again.

"I don't cook for anyone, either! I used to for my aunt and uncle a lot but I was pretty bloody awful at it… " he laughed.

She laughed, but he could tell she was still reeling from the sudden intrusion.

"I'm sure you're fine," she smiled.

Though probably by accident, as she said this, she moved and leaned into him more. Her blouse was thin, causing him to feel her warmth as she pressed against him. She noticed as well.

"Oh, sorry!"

" - oh, it's fine! -"

"- really, I didn't mean to! -"

" - don't worry about it! -"

" - I wasn't trying to! -"

" - it's okay, I don't mind! -"

They spoke over each other before giving into a jumble of laughter and smiles. As awkward as being around her often was, she really did know how to make him smile. Even if it was often at her own expense.

Then, as they relaxed, the unexpected occurred.

She leaned back into the position and remained there. Petite and skittish little Daphne, who he imagined running like a deer at the slightest form of physical affection, rested on him in a pseudo embrace. Her head only reached so high as to cushion itself on his shoulder.

It caused him to become a little hot and bothered. It wasn't as though this was the closest he'd ever been to a girl before - he'd sat this close to Hermione and Ginny a dozen times - but the isolated setting, combined with the fact she'd dolled herself up all pretty and they were on what could easily be passable as a date, and a mixture of all those caused him to feel flustered in a way he hadn't done around her before.

His heart absolutely burned. This girl was snuggling him. This absolutely adorable girl was cuddling up against him.

The air felt like glass as he struggled for what to say. Did he acknowledge it, or did he not want to draw attention? Would she feel rejected if he did not? He didn't want to say anything, but the silence seemed extremely loud now.

When he did speak, his words were barely a whisper.

"That's nice."

"You… don't mind?"

He couldn't see her face but could hear the fear in her tone. He wanted to remedy that.

"You're…" he began gently, before stopping.

Bugger, what did he say to not sound like a creep? How did he not sound like a creep!?

"... soft."

He instantly wanted to kill himself. Maybe the Dursleys had a point? Maybe Voldemort deserved to win?

He felt a shaking sensation and, to his confusion, realized she was laughing. That made him feel slightly better, albeit confused.

"Thank you, I'm… often complimented on my softness."

Her tone was mocking, teasing. It was a first to hear from her.

"I meant warm! You're warm and… really, really small. You're short. And warm. Like a hardboiled egg."

He was suddenly assaulted by the most soul-crushing puppy-dog eyes he'd ever seen as Daphne pouted.

"I'm... an egg?"

He shook his head in downcast defeat.

"I'll shut up. You're not an egg. I'm sorry, ignore me completely."

She was smiling, which was good, but he was fucking furious with himself.

This awkward exchange ended as abruptly as it started, and they both returned to their food. The whole time, she did not move from her position on his side. The feeling of her breathing against him was both calming and incredibly stimulating. His heart could not decide if it wanted to relax or speed up. Relaxation won out, and he found himself leaning into her as well.

"T-thank you, Harry," she said from the blue.

He looked down quizzically.

"I didn't make any of this, you did?"

He pivoted his head to see her properly. She opened her mouth to say something, then he saw her falter slightly. She closed her mouth and opens it again.

"I meant… t-thank you for... being... my friend."

He could hear how hard it was for her to get that simple sentence out. It left him hanging for a moment. So… there was someone in the school even lonelier than he was. Maybe lonely was the wrong word - he hadn't been lacking company - but he'd still managed to feel alone and detached. Maybe lonely was the wrong word for Daphne too, she had Davis after all, didn't she?

Somehow, he got the sense that this wasn't how the two of them spent their time alone

He realized he'd been sitting there far too long without answering, so pulled off a flawless, not-at-all-exaggerated smile.

"You too. It's been… a little weird, but I like spending time with you."

He didn't want to crane his head around to see her expression. He didn't need to, as he already knew it was what she wanted to hear. His words were the truth - he was a little unsure of what he was doing having a picnic with a Slytherin girl right now, but he wasn't fighting it. He was enjoying it, even. In this confusing, messy time of his life, she had arrived with a certain air of clarity about her.

Nothing more was said. The two continued their meals in silence. The passage of time was marked only by the gradual movement of the clock on the wall opposite. It could easily have been an eternity he was sat here.

After a while had passed, and when Daphne had fully relaxed into him, she whimpered slightly. Her grip suddenly tightened on him.

"What was that?" he asked, leaning in to hear her.

She sat up all of a sudden. He began looking around - the urgency at which she moved, he assumed she'd spilled something on them.

"I need to leave."

He glanced up at her - only to see a face of incredible fear.

"What...? Why!?"

His voice was more than a little shrill - the sudden proclamation had both caught him off guard and disappointed him.

She stood up and began rushing the supplies back into her picnic basket, taking no time to do it neatly.

"Tracey is coming."

The tone of her voice was unlike any he'd heard her use before. Did she sound... furious?

"Wha…?"

"She's c-coming… I'm s-sorry, Harry, r-really, but… I need to go now. I'm sorry."

She blurted this out with an almost scared tone to her voice, taking him off guard. She then looked embarrassed by the outburst, before clenching her fists and putting her head down.

All of this was happening so quickly he barely had a second to catch up - he rose from his seat and stepped to the opposite side of the desk.

"Daphne, stop…"

He tried to make for her hand but it was viciously snatched away from him. The fact that she - of all people - didn't stop and apologize for this, made him realize how serious this was. She was slamming the food she had prepared into the basket with no regard, and she looked ready to bolt for the door any second. The sheer fear involved - it sparked something inside him and he realized, it was finally time.

"Daphne, you can't let her control you like this! Look at you - you're scared of her! Make a stand, so what if she comes? It's two of us against her, I'm not going to let her hurt you!"

She scrunched her face up with frustration, cursing something under her breath.

"I-It's n-not l-like t-that…"

"Daphne, you need to stand against her!"

But it was no use. She continued packing away and in a few seconds, she would be gone. He knew there was no getting through to her like this, so he did the only thing he could think to do.

"Colloportus!"

Twice he pointed his wand, each at each entrance to the room. Both doors glowed for a second as they were magically sealed.

She was no longer frustrated - now she looked sick. The color drained from her face and she looked seconds from passing out.

"What have you done…?"

The tears finally broke through and he knew at once she was going the same way she was when she'd had that panic attack. She grabbed his arm tightly, digging her pointed nails in through his shirt, which hurt a surprising amount. He tried to pull back but she was simply thrown around with the movement.

"Harry, p-p-please!" she cried between breaths. "This will j-j-just piss her off… please… please, let me g-go…"

Her breaths were coming through as choked wheezes - she was beginning to hyperventilate. He wrapped her up in the arm she had hold of, supporting her.

"I've got you, I've got you, you're okay," he tried gently into her ear.

But she was gone. She was making noises - horrific, mournful sounds - and likely couldn't even hear him. The grip on his arm was beginning to loosen as she began lowering to the floor, falling limp.

"Come on, Daphne, stay with me!"

He twisted her around so she was behind him. With one arm holding her up, he jabbed the other one at the locked doors. He was going to prove it to her - she was going to see firsthand that Davis was not a danger to her anymore. Whichever way she entered, he would be on her in a second

"I'm… so… sorry…" she choked.

She finally went silent as a dead weight hit him in the back. She was now entirely limp, propped up only by him. She had passed out.

"Daphne! Daphne, stay with me! Wake up, come on!"

He needed to call for help. He needed to get to Chiara, or anyone. He didn't know how to resuscitate someone in her position, and he didn't want to try with Davis bearing down on them.

Side to side, his wand snapped to each door. Even if she was able to get through his charm, he was ready for her. He could take her fine - but Daphne's incessant screaming had put more than a little fear in his mind. How terrifying did someone have to be to warrant that kind of a reaction? This was ridiculous.

He dug her roughly with his shoulder, willing her to wake up. Adrenaline pumped around his system. He shook his frame from side to side, willing her back to consciousness.

"DAPHNE!"

But still nothing. She was out cold.

The room seemed almost startlingly quiet now - the only sound being the thumping heartbeat in his ears. Reality had become hauntingly still. Each moment he expected Davis and either door and each moment she failed to show, he grew more unsettled. He just needed a glimpse - one glimpse of her - and it'd be all he needed to blast that stupid grin of hers into hell.

He shoved Daphne again and this time, finally got a reaction. He felt her stiffen behind him and regain herself, no longer leaning on him as a deadweight. Her hands released themselves from his arm.

"Daphne, Daphne…" he breathed. "You're okay, you're…"

Her hands continued around him, snaking under his armpits, rubbing him, and caressing his chest. He felt a warm breath on his shoulder.

"Daphne…?"

"Not anymore."

Not that voice.

How was that even possible…?

He turned around.

"... Davis?"

He came eye-to-eye with Tracey Davis, exactly where Daphne had been.

He blinked again and again, convinced his eyes were lying to him. When that didn't work he looked around, eyes shooting to all corners of the room to see where she had gotten in and where Daphne was. This wasn't possible. But they were the only ones here… but now Davis had… and he realized all in one go that she was dressed exactly the same as Daphne. No - it was more than that - she was wearing her clothes, which were too small on her, meaning her chest looked absolutely bursting through her shirt.

She had replaced Daphne?

His confusion left him absolutely defenseless as she produced a sellotaped wand out of her robes and pointed it at him, point-blank.

"Incarcerous!"

By the time he had fumbled his own wand out of his inner pocket, his wristers were smashed together by a magically-binding rope and the force of it threw him off balance. He knocked into the desk, sending it, him and the picnic basket sprawling over the floor. His wand clattered loudly a few feet away.

As he reeled in pain and confusion, Davis moved around him.

"Awww, are the two of you on a date? Oh, Potter, you old charmer!"

Her shoe - Daphne's shoe - came to crush a hard-boiled egg that had landed inches from his face.

Through his spluttering mind, he was barely able to vocalize.

"What the fuck? What… the fuck?" he said breathlessly.

She smiled down at him. With two hands, she took Daphne's shirt and pulled it in opposite directions. There was a spluttering of bopping noises, a spray of buttons in all directions, and he was looking up at the girl's oversized breasts stuffed into a tiny bra.

"I knew you couldn't stay away. I made you a promise, Potter... Remember what that was?"

She stepped over him, so her feet blocked him on either side. Such an action finally got his mind into gear and, despite his binds, he lashed out.

"Get the fuck away from me!"

She hissed, touring sour for the first time.

"Shut the fuck up, someone will hear!"

She pointed her wand at him and again, he was defenseless.

"Silencio!"

His breath was stolen and his mouth refused to open.

Unable to call for help, he thought harder against his restraints. He knew there was no escaping this spell, but if he could at least get to his wand - he knew he heard it land somewhere near here - but looking upside-down across a darkly-light floor strewn in food, he couldn't make head nor tail of his surroundings.

There was a sudden weight on him that snatched his attention.

Davis sat on him, legs folded so her knees rested on each of his sides. Short of stamping his legs to make a noise and hoping someone came to investigate - she had completely cornered him.

She was wearing shorts, and with so much bare skin pressed against him, that same warmth he'd appreciated from Daphne, sought to be his undoing now. A new reaction activated inside him. She was only in shorts and a bra - it was the most he'd ever seen of a woman's body. He tried fighting it, but his body worked against him.

"Oh… someone's excited to see me…"

Any further thoughts were pushed out of his mind as Davis moved down to his crotch.

He bit down hard on his tongue as he felt her hands unbuckle his belt and undo his zipper. She tore his trousers and boxers down to his knees, leaving him completely exposed. He didn't even have time to feel embarrassed before blood began pumping and within seconds his dick was standing fully erect in front of her.

Grinning that evil grin of hers, she grabbed his shaft and brought his tip towards her face. His mind went completely blank as her hot breath washed over him and he could only stare in disbelief and shock as she slowly extended her tongue and licked him from end to end, balls to the tip. Her tongue remained on his tip, slowly drawing circles with her saliva. A white-hot tingling rippled through him like thunder - if he could have moaned aloud, he would have. Pleased with his reaction, she parted her lips and took his spongy tip into her mouth. He could only shudder as her cheeks came in on themselves as she began to suck his tip like a lollipop. When she added her tongue to the mix he shuddered again - nothing could have prepared him for the feeling of her hot mouth.

Forcing willpower, he brought his bound hands together into her hair, trying to keep her off, but with her hands on his thighs, she had all the leverage. Rather embarrassingly, despite his best efforts, she was stronger than he was.

She did notice his struggle though, and after flicking him a toothy grin, sucked the entire thing into her mouth, her cheeks bulging out as she took his whole shaft. His body ricocheted with shock, so much so the back of his head painfully collided with the stone floor behind him. But that was soon forgotten as a dirty slurping sound began, coming from each time Davis pulled him out of his throat.

He was ashamed to notice at this point his struggle failed and his initial discomfort had disappeared. The girl knew what she was doing. Earlier it had been an automatic reaction, but her treatment of his member caused him to flex it inside of her, growing it to its full mast and sending an electric burst of pleasure through his system. She choked as her chin collided with his balls. He felt dazed - and cursed himself when he realized he was trying his best not to move his hips against her, wanting to feel that pleasure even more.

Whatever was left of his resistance died right there. His fingers gripped around her hair and he began to thrust into her mouth.

He groaned - or tried - as he drilled his hips up and down, pumping himself even deeper, his dick now plundering the entire length of her throat. Her gag reflex was giving a few pathetic sputters, but that just served to turn him on more. Hearing her struggling was the best part of it. He could easily use her as a fucksleeve. She groaned happily as her eyes watered and she finally bottomed out, releasing her control and giving herself over to him, her throat gargling as her nose was buried deep into his unshaven crotch.

She was unable to vocalize anymore, only make noises, as her jaw was stretched wide as he fucked her mouth. They were disgusting noises - wrenching, like vomiting - but they were music to his ears. It was borderline therapeutic. He could feel it building within him, he wished he could last longer, experience these noises and the feeling of her throat for longer, but he knew there wasn't a chance.

His hands went solid and she gurgled as his orgasm hit with the power of a freight train, making him cum deep into her throat. She was trying to pull back, but he forced her still. Again and again he came, Davis choking as he kept emptying his balls deep in her throat. He was in complete disbelief over how good it felt, this orgasm seemed to last longer than any he had ever experienced. He moaned silently, having to clench his fists in her hair to keep from flailing around wildly as he literally emptied himself dry. The beating aftershocks of his orgasm hit, his hips going limp around her slurping mouth.

His hands fell away from her. He expected her to pull away for some big gasp of air after that, having nearly choked on all his cum, but in a dramatic twist of events, she simply swallowed loudly a few times, then resumed bobbing her head up and down.

He whimpered, grabbing her head and trying to remove her. That was simply too much. It was painful now. Not nice. Every inch of him felt hyper-sensitive and she was working over time. It was an agonizing thirty seconds later that she finally decided that she was done, releasing his cock with a wet pop. He exhaled loudly, trying to catch his breath as his body twitched.

The world swirled around him. The ceiling above looked like the disturbed surface of a pool. He shut his eyes, willing his senses to regain themselves. His mind was absolutely blank. There wasn't a single thought in his head. All of his fears, concerns, and then shock and terror - all of it was completely purged from his head. The only thing he could think of was how he could think about nothing.

His eyes felt heavy as they slowly opened, the light making him blink to get adjusted. He'd only closed his eyes for seconds - but reopening them, he knew a lot longer had passed. His body felt like lead, and his head felt just as heavy.

"Silencio nox. Incarcerous nox."

He gasped. His hands burst free of their restraints and he rolled over, trying to regain his wits as well as his breath.

A horrible feeling overtook his stomach. His first reaction was disbelief. He'd never been good at hiding his emotions from physically showing, and this time was no different.

Finally, he looked down at Davis. She was a mess, her eyeliner running down her cheeks and a stream of spit and cum dripping from her lips, but there was an extremely satisfied smirk on her face, obviously happy with her work.

She licked her lips as she smiled, taking in whatever had dripped out.

"You didn't break my choker. Gotta try harder next time."

This brought him back entirely. He grimaced at pulling up his pants and boxers again Davis's excess efforts had covered them, but he didn't have a choice. He fumbled them up and stumbled groggily to his feet, not really feeling like he was the one doing it, and steadied himself on a nearby table.

"Good spirit though, could tell you were tryin'!"

His eyes searched for the wand he dropped on the floor. Pointing at her felt like a futile action now, considering what she had already taken from him, but he couldn't not do. He spotted it under a nearby chair and, shaking, aimed at her.

His mind drew an absolute blank. He wasn't going to fire at her. He didn't think he could think of a spell, even if his mind was working at full capacity. He knew full well it was for show and so did she. The action of simply doing so caused her to smile and approach, which made him want to run in the other direction.

As she neared, he forced himself to speak. There was a lot he wanted to say - too much, in fact. His mind was blank, it had simply become overwhelmed with too many things at once and he couldn't think straight. But he needed something, anything to grasp on to and explain to him what had just happened.

"What... the hell are you… ?"

She grinned, putting her hands on her hips proudly.

"I am the chief of sinners. I am the chief of sufferers."

Whatever meaning this had went straight over his head. He wasn't even sure he heard it properly.

"W-what does that mean?"

She sealed the distance, coming an inch away from his face.

"BOO!"

His senses shattered - he leaped back and the world span around him. He trod over Daphne's picnic basket and went spiraling blindly back towards the ground. This time, however, his adrenaline he fought it and he moved with it, turning it into a stumbling run. As he set off running full speed in the other direction, his steps were accompanied by a loud crunching, as the picnic basket stuck around his foot impacted with the cobblestone again and again.

And he ran. He ran the whole way along the second floor, then he ran the whole way up the grand staircase. He thought he was going back to the Gryffindor Common Room, but he wasn't sure. He just ran. He ran in hopes the reality of what had just happened would not catch him up.

Maybe whatever actions had just transpired wouldn't matter if he could outright them? Maybe consequences didn't matter if he wasn't around to face them?

As he began to tire, however, the consequences did indeed find him. His mind began to catch him up - a comprehensive understanding of the events that had just transpired. Meeting Daphne at breakfast, going with her for a cute picnic, getting her to finally drop her guard around him, and then… then Davis showing up. Not showing up - appearing. She appeared from nowhere. But not nowhere. She appeared from Daphne. She appeared from Daphne, but what the hell did that mean? What was that? Portkey, polyjuice, a curse, what the hell was that?

And was that it? Was that how he had become a man? Tied and gagged on the floor while a woman he hated took his innocence from him? The most he'd done with a woman was that sloppy kiss with Cho last year… so was this it? Had he lost his virginity now? Or... had it been taken from him? Was that rape? He'd been raped by Davis… or by Daphne? What was the difference? What the hell had happened tonight?

And what the fuck was his life?