Warning: This chapter contains an on-screen depiction of sexual assault. The language isn't overly graphic, but things do get pretty damn uncomfortable.

Please read with caution!

Chapter 2: And We're Starting at the End

Harry's heart leapt and he whirled around, brandishing his wand again, a spell on the tip of his tongue – but the words retreated back into the recesses of his foggy brain faster than water through a sieve….

He clutched his head, dizzy at the sudden movement, and blinked, squinting across the corridor.

A girl with long dark hair stood half-concealed behind a tapestry. The moonlight streaming in through the mullioned windows illuminated her eyes, her prominent chin...Harry recognized her. He might have met her on the train to school.

She was smiling at him.

"You're Romilda Vane," Harry said suddenly, the memory falling into place as she stepped out fully from behind the tapestry. He thought she might have been a fourth year.

Romilda nodded, seeming satisfied. "And you're Harry Potter," she simpered. "The Chosen One, they're calling you these days…."

Harry frowned. He did not like people calling him that.

Romilda eyed him in an oddly eager way and beckoned him closer. Harry's feeling of dislike deepened, but he couldn't recall a reason he might feel that way and tamped it down.

She was a Gryffindor. Maybe she could help him….

He crossed over to her (carefully, so as not to lose his balance, which seemed suddenly very poor), tucking his wand back inside his robes.

She peered up into his face with a look of great pity. "Are you lost?" she asked again. "You seem...confused."

She was still smiling.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "I...I am, a bit," he admitted, not quite meeting her eyes. He felt his face heat with humiliation. He should know what to do, but he didn't, he couldn't think…. "I have to get back to Gryffindor. I- I don't remember how..."

"Well, I can help," Romilda said brightly. "Follow me!"

She slipped her hand into his and turned to lead him back down the hallway. Harry was immediately seized by the urge to pull his hand away, but he mentally scolded himself…she was only trying to help.

Romilda tugged him a few more steps and stopped at a plain, unassuming door halfway down the corridor. She threw it open, and Harry had just enough time to think that he was quite certain this wasn't the way back to the dormitories before he was shoved across the threshold. Romilda followed quickly and pulled the door shut, plunging them both into total darkness.

Harry squinted and tried to make out Romilda's shape next to him but the black pressed against his eyes like a funeral shroud…he reached out and ran his hand along the wall behind him, trying to get his bearings, but a second later, Romilda had whispered something and a small flame sprang from her wand to settle in the palm of her outstretched hand, flooding the room with light.

It reminded Harry forcefully of Lupin, and the shivering flames he had conjured the night they had first met on the Hogwarts Express….

Harry looked away, examining his surroundings as his eyes adjusted.

"This is a broom cupboard," he said stupidly.

There were shelves of cleaning supplies and stacks of boxes lined up against the walls, leaving a space just big enough for two people to move around in.

Romilda hummed in agreement and set her little flame down on an upturned box. The fire was obviously only an imitation of the real thing; it burned away happily without any apparent effect to the box it rested upon and did not seem to give off any heat...

"Why are we in here?" Harry asked as Romilda turned back to him.

Romilda gaped at him, as an exasperated parent might look at an ill-behaving child. "You can't very well go back to the Tower like this, can you? You're acting oddly, Harry, people might ask questions, I'm sure you wouldn't want that. Would you?"

"No…." Harry said truthfully, and he watched as she reached into her robes and produced a small pink bottle.

He eyed it warily.

"This," Romilda said, shaking the bottle a little, "will help you to think more clearly." She held it out to him.

Harry did not take it.

"It will?"

"Oh yes," she nodded. "You'll see things exactly as you ought to…."

Harry looked into Romilda's face. She seemed calm and confident, but a tiny voice in the back of his muddled mind told him that drinking anything of which he wasn't certain himself was a very, very bad idea...an odd, murky foreboding settled in his gut….

"I need to find Ron and Hermione," Harry blurted out, surprising even himself with the force of it.

Romilda's eyebrows scrunched together and Harry felt badly about the look of shock and, he thought, hurt, on her face, but he was suddenly highly aware that he did not want to be in this broom cupboard with her, and he did not want to drink that potion. He just needed to go back to the common room…surely Hermione would know how to fix whatever it was that had scrambled his mind….

Harry shook his head once, twitching it as though he were trying to dislodge a fly; a confusing jumble of thoughts raced around in his head, faltering strangely like a film reel with missing frames…he didn't want to be here…he reached out behind him again, fumbling for the handle of the door. A look much less like hurt and more like anger flitted over Romilda's face….

"You can't leave," she said in a clipped voice. The sweet-bright edge had left it - she sounded annoyed now.

But Harry's fingers found the handle of the door and pulled. He opened his mouth to say he'd find a way back to Gryffindor on his own, when Romilda whipped her wand from her robes and pointed it at him in one quick motion, hissing "Petrificus Totalus!" before Harry had any time to react.

His fingers froze instantly, curled awkwardly around the door handle, as did the rest of him, his mouth still open, his eyes staring at Romilda in disbelief...

He couldn't move a muscle. He felt, for a moment, that he was back on the Hogwarts Express, Petrified humiliatingly by Draco Malfoy. He could almost feel the crunch of his nose breaking under Malfoy's boot….

Romilda put her hands on her hips and looked Harry briefly up and down, frowning.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said, and beneath the tide of panic rising in his chest, Harry thought she sounded oddly as though she really meant it. "I didn't want it to go like this, I didn't want to...well," she paused, frustrated. "I didn't expect you to be so uncooperative. I heard you telling your friends you were going to the headmaster's office tonight, and I thought it would be the perfect time to finally get you alone. I know if you'd just give us a chance…."

She let out a quick puff of air, resigned, and uncorked the pink bottle of potion.

Harry frantically strained against the spell holding him in place, or rather tried to – it was as though his body had been cut off from his brain. His eyes alone remained unaffected, and Harry could only watch, his alarm rising, as Romilda drew closer, the flickering light of the conjured flame glinting merrily off the little glass bottle….

Harry focused as hard as he possibly could on freeing himself, willing his body to move, but this yielded no more results than it had done the night on the train. Snape's sneering face intruded into his mind, unbidden, and Harry could practically hear his scathing taunt about being able to perform magic without spells...

"Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and mind power which some…lack…."

Harry's panic spiraled higher still, and something of his dread must have shown in his eyes, because Romilda paused, the bottle inches from his lips, and said quietly, "It'll be okay, Harry, I promise." She placed a hand on his chest, right over his heart, and Harry wondered whether she could feel its frantic beat beneath her palm. "Just...don't fight it. We'll be great together, you'll see."

And she tipped the contents of the bottle into his open mouth.

The potion was pure cloying sweetness, floral and fruity in equal measures; it dripped thickly down Harry's throat, and he would have gagged if his body had allowed it.

Several seconds passed…a minute...Harry waited, stunned and miserable, for Romilda to release him, but she simply stared back, eyes raking over his face.

She seemed to be waiting for something, and perhaps she'd seen it for a moment later she raised her wand again. There was a flash of red light and Harry's body unfroze.

His knees buckled slightly, catching his weight, and he leaned heavily back against the door of the cupboard. His throat constricted instantly of its own volition, swallowing most of the sickeningly sweet syrup down in one. A burning sensation flared in his stomach, and he quickly spat out the rest of the potion onto the floor.

"Harry...how do you feel?" Romilda asked tentatively.

Harry stared down at the small puddle of pinkish goo, breathing heavily.

A blinding hot surge of rage reared up inside him like a snake and for a brief instant, his mind felt sharp and clear, miraculously free of that strange, dazed confusion.

She'd Confunded him!

Harry's jaws clenched together so hard his teeth ached and he jerked his head up to glare at Romilda. She had planned it, waited for him, and she...she had…she...was….

She was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.

As his eyes rested on her face, the thought pierced him so powerfully it was almost painful. He felt suddenly dizzy with the realization…how had he never noticed it before? How had he never noticed her before? Her long black hair, her big dark eyes...she was stunning, she was brilliant...

Harry could not even think of words worthy enough to describe her, and his heart clenched at this tragic shortcoming.

Romilda was watching him expectantly, bottom lip between her teeth, a hungry look in her eye.

Harry smiled at her tremulously, and her features immediately relaxed as she smiled back (a radiant, glittering, beautiful smile that made Harry feel as though he were bathing in dazzling sunlight)...

Romilda reached up to touch his face and butterflies churned to life in his stomach in an achy, highly pleasant way as she rested her hand tenderly against his cheek. Harry's eyes closed in bliss, and he stood stock still, hoping fervently that this moment would never end...her skin was so smooth and cool against his...Romilda swiped her thumb over his bottom lip, clearing away the last of the sticky liquid.

"There's a good boy," she whispered.

Her hand fell away –

Harry's eyes shot open and a strangled grunt of despair escaped his throat at the loss, but Romilda shushed him with a single finger against his lips before turning away from him, taking his breath with her…she bent low over something in the corner, and Harry watched, transfixed, as her hair slid from her hunched shoulders to shield her face.

Harry stared at it, her shiny black hair...it looked so soft and silky…he longed to touch it, to feel it slide through his fingers...he licked his lips nervously and slowly extended his hand. Lightly, ever so lightly, he ran a finger reverently down a lock of her hair, and the feel of it nearly brought tears to his eyes….

Romilda straightened back up, turning to face Harry again, and he sucked in a breath with a sharp, shuddering gasp, like a drowning man suddenly returning to the surface...she had a small roll of carpeting clutched in her hands...he watched as she shoved a crate of Madame Glossy's Silver Polish out of the way….

God, Harry thought, his eyes tracing the curve of her nose, her lips, her jaw…he never wanted to stop looking at her. And it occurred to him, abruptly, that there was something he ought to tell her:

"I love you," Harry said breathlessly, the words laying strangely on his tongue. He had never said them to anyone before.

But if felt right to say them to her.

Romilda looked up at him quickly. Her eyes, if possible, brightened, and Harry could not stop himself burying his hand fully in her thick glossy hair, sliding it around to rest gently against the back of her neck. His other hand found her waist and Romilda promptly dropped the roll of carpet, grasped the sides of Harry's face, and plunged forward, kissing him forcefully.

The kiss was desperate and burning, Harry felt like white-hot flames were licking every inch of him, consuming him…there was nothing else in the world, only Romilda, her fingers buried in his hair, her breath on his face, her tongue inside his mouth...

Pulling Romilda still closer, Harry dimly recalled the first and last kiss he'd ever had, with Cho Chang. He reflected giddily that this was nothing like that had been, before becoming immediately and thoroughly ashamed of himself for even thinking of another girl, another person, when Romilda was right in front of him, real and close and perfect against him….

The kiss seemed to go on forever; Harry couldn't breathe properly, but he was quite sure he'd rather die of lack of oxygen than ever have to stop kissing Romilda Vane...

They stumbled backwards as one until Harry's back hit the wall and they broke apart, gasping.

Romilda giggled breathlessly, her hands sliding down to his chest. "You're a really good kisser, Harry..."

Harry felt his cheeks turning red, the praise sending a rush of gushing warmth through him as though he'd swallowed a mouthful of hot chocolate. "Thanks," he breathed, grinning crookedly.

"Not that I'm surprised, of course," she added, flipping her hair.

Her fingertips trailed slowly down his arms, leaving goosebumps, and ghosted lightly over his palms as she backed away from him. Harry leaned forward automatically, as though a giant magnet were pulling him toward her, but she pushed him firmly back against the wall and turned to pick up the piece of carpet she'd dropped in her haste to snog him half to death.

Harry watched, his mouth dry, as she unrolled the rug and spread it out on the floor of the cupboard. He suddenly became aware that his palms were sweaty. He hoped fervently that Romilda hadn't noticed and wiped them quickly on his trousers…his robes must have come off sometime during their energetic snogging, but Harry did not have a thought to spare for them at the moment; Romilda shed her own robe and a second later her lips were back on his.

Harry moaned softly into her mouth…being here with her like this...it was brilliant...utterly indescribable. He felt…happy, for the first time in a very, very long time….

Romilda bit his bottom lip in response, and Harry was quite sure he would have fallen over if it hadn't been for the wall supporting him. She yanked his shirt from the waistband of his trousers and shoved her hands up under it, her fingers stroking across his stomach, and Harry started to feel light-headed as blood rushed decidedly southward….

The butterflies tumbling around in Harry's stomach kicked it into high gear as Romilda's hands found the buckle of his belt and unfastened it, slipping it quickly from Harry's waist in one smooth motion before tossing it aside where it clinked dully against the stone floor.

Harry's brain felt as though it were short-circuiting, his entire body was trembling and unnaturally hot like he was burning from the inside out….

He yearned to slip his fingers under the edges of Romilda's blouse, to touch her soft, perfect skin, but some distant, strangled part of his mind held him back…told him he might regret it, if he did….

Their lips broke apart again as Romilda reached for the buttons on Harry's shirt. He held still as best he could and watched, panting, as her nimble fingers made quick work of them and came back up to shove the offending material off his shoulders and down his arms...

His shirt joined his belt on the floor and Romilda stood back briefly to admire him. She let out a soft, barely audible "oh" as her eyes raked over his torso, inspecting him greedily like he was a particularly delicious-looking piece of meat.

Harry suddenly felt highly exposed, a chill sweeping across his overheated skin, and his fists clenched nervously at his sides….

Romilda seemed not to notice his discomfort, and a moment later Harry had forgotten it, too, as she placed her hands on his naked chest, setting his nerves alight all over again.

"You're so gorgeous, Harry, hasn't anyone ever told you?" asked Romilda quietly, leaning up to nuzzle his jawline. Her breath ghosted over his ear, and Harry shivered. "Everyone wonders why you don't have a girlfriend already…."

"Nngh," Harry answered eloquently, for just then she had fastened her lips to his neck in an open-mouthed kiss right over his pulse. Her hands were sliding further down his chest, caressing his stomach…Harry's head fell back against the wall and his arms went around Romilda, grasping the back of her shirt in an effort to ground himself. His legs were like jelly, his brain on fire, he couldn't think….

One of Romilda's hands had reached the top of his trousers.

Her fingertips slipped underneath the waistband, and Harry felt the first weak flutterings of an unnamed fear ripple through his oxygen-deprived, love-sick mind...a tremor ran through his body, and that small, strangled part of his brain that had told him not to touch Romilda seemed to grow louder….

Romilda giggled into the skin of his neck. Harry closed his eyes, the material of her blouse bunching in his fingers as he gripped her more tightly, and he wondered dazedly if she had felt him shaking against her…her fingers slid suddenly past his underwear and moved even lower….

Harry froze, his brain fighting the sudden urge to shove Romilda away, his body screaming at her to keep going, and when the hand in his pants finally slid home and wrapped around him, the sharp burst of arousal was overshadowed by a sickening swoop of nausea deep in his belly.

No….

"N-n…." Harry tried, but Romilda's mouth found his again and he stood there like a statue, solid and unmoving, letting her kiss him as the hand inside his trousers started to move back and forth, a furious, painful battle raging inside his head….

After a minute, Romilda withdrew her hand and pulled back, beaming up at him. Her smile faltered when she caught sight of his face. "Are you alright, Harry? You look funny. Didn't…didn't that feel good?" She frowned, and glanced toward the floor at her discarded robe. "Maybe you need a bit more potion…."

"N…no…." Harry managed, his hands moving jerkily to grasp her forearms as she made to turn away. "No…I…I'm fine..."

It felt like the world had suddenly tilted sideways on its axis, his thoughts were a tangled mess, he was so...confused, it felt like his mind was splitting itself, rending in two…but he didn't want to drink anymore of that potion, he knew that much….

He just needed to…to….

Get out of here, whispered the voice in the back of his head.

But that didn't make any sense! He couldn't leave Romilda. He had to show her that he could do what she wanted, he loved her, and he had to show her how much...he had to make her happy, no matter what…she was the only important thing in the world….

Wasn't she?

Romilda was watching him, her expression troubled, and Harry knew immediately that he had to fix it.

He took Romilda's hand tentatively in his own and smiled at her.

Harry supposed this must have been the right thing to do, for her face burst with happiness, like the sun shining suddenly through a dark storm cloud, and she threw her arms around him.

"I knew it," she sighed into his chest, an unmistakable note of complacency in her voice. "I just knew you'd want this too…."

And next second she'd released him and was removing her own shirt, with a little wink at Harry, and throwing it to the floor. She toed off her shoes and socks before pushing her skirt down over her thighs and kicking it away.

Harry watched in morbid fascination as she reached deliberately behind her back and unhooked her bra. It was made out of some kind of silky black material and, despite his weird sense of growing trepidation, he couldn't help but notice how nice it looked against her pearly skin, her dark hair….

Her eyes never leaving his, Romilda slid the straps of her bra languidly down her arms, openly reveling in the sight she knew she must be making…she plucked the garment off her body, let it dangle for a second, then dropped it to the floor on top of her shirt.

Harry's brain seemed to have jammed. He swallowed, his throat dry, as Romilda hooked her thumbs into her underwear, which were the same black material as her bra, and eased them over her hips till they slid down to join her other clothes on the floor.

He couldn't stop himself staring as Romilda straightened back up: had never seen a girl naked before and the reality sent both excitement and terror thundering through him all at once...he realized his hands were shaking….

"Well?" said Romilda expectantly, tossing her hair confidently over her shoulder. "Your turn." She gestured at his trousers.

Harry glanced down at himself…his supposed it was only fair…wasn't it?

He kicked off his shoes. His hands went hesitantly to his zip, but his bloodless fingers were trembling too hard.

"Here, let me help," Romilda said sympathetically, as though she were offering him a great kindness. She batted his hands out of the way, and as she fumbled with the button, Harry only prayed that she would not try to make a show of undressing him...but as soon as she'd got his trousers open, she pulled them unceremoniously over his hips, underwear and all, and slid them down so Harry could step out of them.

Romilda nudged their piles of clothes into a corner with her foot, and then took both of Harry's hands in hers, looking him up and down...Harry felt his face heat up again as her gaze lingered at his groin, and he resisted the overwhelming impulse to cover himself with great difficulty. She wants to see you, you have to let her, she wants to….

Romilda looked back up at his face, and he could see the honest excitement brimming in her eyes...

This is for her, he told himself, for Romilda…just do it for Romilda…let her have what she wants…do it for her….

Harry's thoughts echoed like a desperate mantra inside his head as she pulled him down to the floor and manoeuvred him until he was lying on his back in the center of the small carpet...

Her hand settled between his legs again and Harry could do nothing but simply lie there, his entire body so tense it ached, and let Romilda touch him. Let her touch him in a way no one had ever done, before….

The cupboard did not allow enough room to stretch out. Harry's knees were bent up at an awkward angle and something hard was digging painfully into shoulder, but he could not bring himself to move…he was afraid if he moved, he would want to run…and he couldn't do that to Romilda…she needed him…she loved him….

This isn't…right, whispered the little voice, and it sounded as though it were coming from a long way away, from far beneath an ocean of thick, pink, swirling waves….

This is….

Good, Harry thought firmly. It's fine, it feels…good…feels….

Wrong. It's wrong, god, don't….

His hands twitched where they lay uselessly at his sides, his fingernails scraping at the thin carpet.

Stop….

"Please," Harry gasped, and Romilda finally released him. For one shining moment, he thought she might be finished with him, but Romilda simply smirked and patted his cheek affectionately.

"Shh, I know…." she crooned, and a terrible feeling of dread settled thickly in Harry's veins as she swung a leg up and over his hips so that she was straddling him. Propping up her weight with one hand on the floor next to his head, Romilda used the other to guide him inside of her, sinking down slowly until her thighs met his pelvic bone and she let out a quiet, gasping sigh.

Harry's hands jerked up instinctively to grasp at her thighs, a heady surge of intermingled pleasure, shock, and horror crashing over him…he'd never felt anything like this in his life, there was nothing to compare it to, it was…wrong…wonderful…and Romilda was suddenly moving above him, blocking out everything but the feel of her around him, the heat of her skin on his, the pressure of her knees against his ribs….

Romilda's free hand came down to rest on the other side of Harry's head. She tucked her head down, her hair cascading over her shoulders to spill across Harry's chest, little gasps issuing from her open mouth….

Harry shut his eyes tight, pleasure flooding his gut and bile rising in his throat, his fingers digging into the flesh of Romilda's thighs, and he hoped that it would…be over soon, dear god, please….

Harry's grip on her legs tightened against his will, and Romilda whimpered, seizing his hands and yanking them above his head where she pinned them to the ground with both of her own. Harry tried automatically to tug his hands out of her grip, but she did not let go, and he could not find the strength within himself to fight her….

Can't, not allowed, don't...hurt her...

A tight coil of pleasure was building rapidly in Harry's lower belly, while something entirely different but equally powerful constricted his chest…Romilda moved above him…and then his back was arching off the ground as he spilled inside of her, a dry sob escaping his throat….

Romilda stopped, breathing hard, her limbs trembling with exertion. Harry slowly opened his eyes and watched helplessly as she leaned down to kiss him again, brushing briefly against his chapped lips. She pulled back a little, sighing against his cheek before her head dropped heavily onto his shoulder.

Alright…done…she's done…just let it be over…please….

A few minutes passed, and Romilda straightened, rising up on her knees. But instead of climbing off of Harry, she reached down under herself to molest him again….

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and bit down on another sob.

Don't…I don't want to do this anymore….

"Please…." he whimpered.

But then she was lowering herself back down, and he was inside of her again.

Harry was not sure how much time passed.

It might have been seconds, or years...

He lost track of it all…lost track of everything but Romilda, and as she used his body, he began to feel as though she were leeching something from it…from him….

Like his magic.

Or his blood.

Something enormously, deeply important….

Romilda collapsed on top of Harry again, her breasts pressing against his chest, her hips resting firmly against his, and as the two of them lay there, Harry felt a dull rushing in his veins as the last remnants of the potion burned away...

The obsessive feelings of affection for Romilda that had so consumed him had evaporated, as well as that strange, terrifying sense of devout obligation, leaving nothing in their place but a cold emptiness…a numbness so complete he felt almost as though he were not inhabiting his body at all, but simply looking down at himself from the ceiling of the broom cupboard.

Romilda shifted, releasing Harry's hands, and as she rolled off of him, Harry felt something deep inside him give, and he found he did not care what happened next.

He did not care much about anything at all.

He could not even muster the energy to feel embarrassed about his nudity, or about what he and Romilda had just done. All he wanted was to lie here till the end of time, until the walls of the castle came crumbling down around him, and he'd forgotten he had ever existed...

"That was brilliant," Romilda breathed, getting to her feet carefully and pulling her arms above her head, stretching. She turned her back on him and fished her wand out of her robes, directing various cleaning spells at herself before gathering up her clothes and starting to pull them on. "Charlene, she's my best friend, she always did say you'd be an amazing shag, she…."

Harry lay there, unmoving, until he realized faintly that he was uncomfortably cold.

He didn't want to be cold.

With a massive effort, he rolled halfway over to rest on his side. His muscles quivered underneath the surface of his skin, and he brought his knees up slightly, trying his best to curl in on himself as Romilda's words washed over him in a meaningless stream of noise...

She turned around, still chattering away, fixing up the last few buttons on her shirt, but then stopped mid-sentence, spotting Harry still lying on the floor.

"Are you alright?" Romilda asked him curiously, leaning over to peer into his face. She frowned and searched around in her robes before pulling out another small pink bottle. Harry's heart thudded dully at the sight, but Romilda, rather than uncorking it, simply turned it over in her hand to read the label on the back. "According to this, there shouldn't be any complications…." She placed the bottle back into her pocket and shrugged. "Probably you just need a rest, I've heard boys usually do, after…."

She considered him regretfully. "I thought we'd walk back together, but I'm sure I'd get caught if I had to drag you along half-asleep...I suppose you're a big boy, and after all it isn't that far, you can come back when you're ready…."

Romilda glanced about, then picked up Harry's discarded school robe, threw it over his shivering body, and patted his shoulder. "I'm sure I'll see you soon, Harry," she said, and kissed him on the cheek.

With that, Romilda pushed open the door to the cupboard and stepped out into the deserted corridor.

As the door creaked shut behind her, the little dancing flame which she had conjured earlier fizzled into nothingness, and Harry was left alone in the dark.