A/N Big break, I know. Story isn't abandoned, I just like to take hiatus in the middle of my stories for quality reasons. Loving the comments, keep em coming guys.
As Hermione had foretold, when the winter snow faded away and a new term began at the school, their workload increased dramatically. Not only were they studying as though they had exams every day, but the lessons themselves had become more demanding than ever before. Harry barely understood half of what Professor McGonagall said to them these days; even Hermione had had to ask her to repeat instructions once or twice.
Personally, he found himself grateful for the sudden occupied schedule, for it was all he could to keep himself a mental arms-length away from Daphne and Tracey. Or, just Daphne now, he supposed.
He couldn't bring himself to enjoy her anymore. She was cute and though they only had a very short time together as friends he had appreciated it deeply, but now any thoughts of her could not come unpolluted.
Did it count as rape, really? He was a man and she was a woman, he didn't think it worked that way around. Hermione would probably disagree with that, though. And if she wasn't in control, could he even be mad at her?
A tough hand hit on the back - catapulting him back to his senses.
"What's the lineup like, do you reckon? Think I've got a good chance?"
The trails for the new Quidditch team fell on their second day back. It was a miserable morning for it but they'd already delayed them late enough into the year.
He swallowed the rising lump in his throat, bringing himself back to the realm of the living.
"We've… only got one space for a beater and Samus is going for it as well… I don't know who else might be."
"I think you'll do fantastically, Ron," Hermione chimed in from the side, a lot more hopefully, "You've been playing with your brothers all your life, Harry would be mad not to put you on the team."
He tried to give a glare her way, unfortunately his heart wasn't in it.
There would be a lot of guys that would class him lucky for what he went through over the holidays. And that, above all else, was why he decided to keep quiet about it.
There were other reasons - he didn't want the pressure of involving others in Daphne's secret, nor did he particularly have time to - but that was the deal breaker. He simply couldn't bring himself to sit down with Ron, Neville or Samus and tell them with a heavy heart that he'd had sex and regretted it. They wouldn't take him seriously. Nor should they. He was positive the only consolation he'd get would be cheers and high fives all around. To pull someone as fit as Davis - never mind a forbidden Slytherin, who usually despised Gryffindors - most men would tell him he was lucky.
That reassurance did nothing for him, though. And he tried - he tried congratulating himself on it, patting himself on the back and wearing the badge of losing his v-card with pride. But he wasn't proud of it. He didn't want anything to do with it. And hell, he'd already jacked off over girls in his class before, it wasn't like he had anything against sex at his age. In fact, given a few weeks ago he'd have welcomed it. From what Fred and George said, most lads don't get that much until they were at least seventh years.
"... I'll have to judge it fairly," he mumbled. "... I can't just let you in because you're my mate."
Did oral sex even count as sex? It was still called sex, so he supposed so, but the specific boundaries were lost on him.
"Oh, yeah… Nah, course…"
But Ron didn't say much more on their way down to the stadium. Harry blamed himself - if he'd have been in any better mood, they could have spent the holidays practising. And since he was being honest with himself… in his current state, he wasn't very confident his friend would be good enough.
Reaching the base of the castle grounds, Hermione departed for the bleachers and the trails began.
It was a long and tedious process, made worse by the fact he was feeling very detached from the world around him, but they were eventually able to syphon through the candidates. Neither of his chosen Beaters were suitable replacements for Fred and George but he was reasonably pleased: Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote now joined Katie, Demelza, and Ginny in the stands to watch the selection of their last team member.
He'd left the trial of the keepers until last, hoping for an emptier stadium and less pressure on Ron, unfortunately that plan backfired and the rejected players had joined the spectators and the crowd was larger than ever. Glancing over, he found Ron exactly as he suspected; turning a very Slytherin shade of green.
Samus's performance was so-and-so but to Harry's great disappointment, Cormac McLaggen, of all people, performed by far the best. And it was four more penalties than Ron were able to save.
Cormac joined them and the new team retired to the changing rooms. He waved a pathetic goodbye to Ron and Hermione - wishing he could join them on their trek back up to the castle - but also understanding his responsibilities as Captain.
He breathed deeply, forcing enthusiasm into his throat.
"Really good job today, you lot! Looking forward to getting to play with all of you! Hit the showers, give yourself a good twenty to thirty minutes to de-tense and we'll all regroup in the tent!"
As expected, the trials had taken up all of the morning. Now a watery sky was threatening to open above them and he was cold and hungry. And after watching the sorry state of his best friend's trail, a shower would come as a welcome release.
He was granted his own private one as Captain - it came at just the right time, as he was in no rush to be naked in front of anyone any time soon again. The door was locked and for good measure, he also pushed a bench up against it.
Hand on the curtain, he stepped into the shower and turned the metal crank. He got hit with a face-full of mist as hot water came crashing down. Shivers rocketed up his spine as the pooling water made contact with his feet. The grip he kept over himself released and he gave in to the showerhead. For how long he stood like that - he did not know. It could easily have been forever as life, for this briefest of moments, became the best it had ever been. It was as though his very flesh was melting away and he was ascending to pure energy, no longer contained to this frail human body of his.
Then there was the briefest of noises - a distant voice. It was quick and one-off, but brought him out of his trance completely.
He could picture it playing out perfectly in front of him - Davis kicking down his makeshift barricade, approaching him triumphantly knowing he was unarmed and naked and she, again, with total control of the situation.
On instinct, he seized up. A momentary burst of adrenaline flushed his system. It was passing, but the shock of it still lingered.
That was a total fantasy, he knew, but the thought still made him sick to his very core.
But as he tried to continue with his shower, something new happened. The noises began to change. The pitter-patter rhythm of the water falling around him was different now. It was no longer equally spaced out and instead began to gather on his front. His hormones had caught up to his mental imagery and, just as they had on the night, betrayed him yet again.
He didn't know if he was ashamed or not, getting hard remembering it. She was sexy - big breasts, thick legs, skinny waist and muscular body - she was practically a tailor-made fuck doll specifically made for his interests. Finding her attractive was forgivable... but that wasn't what made him ashamed.
What made him disgusted was that this was not the first time he'd jacked off over what happened.
With a hearty, tired sigh, he brought his right hand to his member and began to work it. In response, more blood pumped to his crotch, swelling himself up to his fullest size. It wasn't because he was turned on - the opposite, he was disgusted remembering it, but every time his eyes closed for too long or he even got the slightest whiff of arousal, he was right back there again. Tied against his will as she had her way with him.
He pictured his fingers as her lips, parting and closing around him as he thrust into her. Then his little finger as her chin, and remembered her gurgling noises every time he slammed his hand down to the base of his shaft.
The imagery was growing.
He could see her now, on her knees in front of him.
He wasn't holding his dick - he was holding the sides of her head - and this tugging was him pushing her down again and again.
It pleased him to hear her choke. She couldn't mock him with that brat mouth of hers if it was filled to its brim, could she? Hearing her starve for breath and seeing the tears and as he hit her throat again and again - it was damn-near therapeutic. It put her in her place. That part of it, he enjoyed. He admitted that to himself. Degrading her turned him on, and that was why the imagery kept coming back to him. Getting to punish her almost made it worth it. Putting all that pent up aggression to good use was levels of validation beyond his understanding.
He moved forward, pushing his cock all the way down her throat and keeping it there as she clawed for breath.
"Not much to say now, have you?" he whispered to himself.
That was the final straw he needed. Hands wrapped tightly around her throat so she ought not pull away, he tensed his entire body as he achieved climax. He could see it - the look on her red, tear-stained face as he filled her up. Her eyes rolling to the back of her head. Her suffocating gasps were music to his ears… when in reality, all he heard was only a light splashing as his seed shot pathetically against the bathroom tiles.
And then he was done. The violent, sexual urges drained from his system as quickly as they had entered. He took a step back, shaking his head as he brought his breathing back down. He washed his hands under the shower stream.
He needed to hurry and get changed. Ginny was probably waiting for him outside and he still had Defence Against the Dark Arts homework tonight for later this week. They'd been given all of the holidays to do it, but even in his infinite amounts of boredom, he hadn't scooped quite that low.
That night Harry sank miserably into bed. It felt easy to get lost in it. Naked, other than his boxers, he felt incredibly small and exposed. Through a combination of its size and sheer softness, he felt like if he really wanted to, he could retreat into it like a turtle, never to be seen again. That's what he felt like doing.
It was no use. God, he was pathetic. He was no man. This girl had turned him into a quivering pussy who was scared of being naked. He wasn't a little girl that needed protecting.
And the most annoying bit was - it was down to him. Why had he let her take such a position of power in his mind? He could go to a teacher, an Auror or heck, even just sort her out himself with a few tricks from the Half Blood Prince. So why had he let her get this far? Why was he letting her do whatever she wanted?
Why was he letting her get away with it?
Frustration flushed his system, but he was too tired to get angry about it. He simply felt dried up. That was the best way to describe it - like he'd cried himself absolutely bone dry and now there were no emotions left to be had. Not that he'd cry over her - he wouldn't give her that. It was a different kind of frustration he was dealing with, one that made him angry, not sad.
Was it because she was a girl, he wondered? Did all of this come down to him fundamentally not wanting to fight a girl? He'd attacked Malfoy for a lot less. Or was it the sex that was ruining him? She had a point - before the other night he was a virgin with no clue what to do with himself sexually, he was so far out of his depth in that regard, he had no idea how to hold himself if he did try fighting back against her.
Or… he scarcely even dare consider… was she right? Was there some sick level of him that was secretly enjoying all of this?
No. Getting payback by returning the favour… that would be something he'd enjoy. Hearing her choke to death on his knob… Wringing her neck out as he forced himself on her…. Leaving her naked, sobbing and dethroned on some dungeon floor… That was all something he would enjoy.
The silence in the dormitory was loud. He'd retired early, but there were already a few of his year already in bed. There was a howling wind making itself known outside.
As he tried to drift off thinking about it, that ugly urge that had been hovering so neatly on his consciousness returned and his manhood reared its ugly head - frankly, he was amazed there was anything left in there at this point.
With a hearty sigh, he reached for his wand and cast a silencing charm around his four-poster bed.
