Crossing the Line
NC-17
H/Hr
Romance/Angst with a smidgeon of humor
Summary: Inhibitions serve as a final barrier for protecting us from our inner most desires. At times, it can be all that stands from a person doing the right thing and the wrong thing. What would happen if you could force someone to do the wrong thing?
An answer to the challenge proposed by Heather Sinclair of own nothing save the computer used to type this story.
A little tamer than originally intended but I may write a stronger version later. I'll try at times to say what happens without explicitly saying it.
A big kudos to whoever sent me the anonymous message about identity of the old hag; I didn't think anyone would spot that so easily. My ego is kind of bruised now
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Chapter 3: Losing it and finding it
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The loud audible click of the door closing served as the only break in silence inside the dark room. Before Hermione knew exactly what it was that she was doing, she locked the door and slowly approached the sleeping form on the bed.
He was in a state of magical suspended animation. His body would function normally but would not require processing or consuming any energy outside the enchantments that were placed on him.
A huge improvement from the muggle way but in a way, it was more primitive.
Cautiously, Hermione reached out to stroke a bang out of his face but winded up feeling his lips instead which separated in reflex.
"Oh Harry…" Hermione sobbed, her head falling down into the open space on the bed. The strange sensations that were encompassing Hermione earlier were growing stronger.
At first she thought it was a panic attack or that maybe Harry was trying to reach her somehow, he had become rather skilled in the mental arts, but she realized that something was happening and it wasn't normal and it certainly wasn't good.
She fidgeted with the covers awkwardly before cursing under her breath and climbing up to straddle Harry's unconscious form. At first she was satisfied with just holding and hugging is prone form but it soon proved not enough and she found herself passionately kissing him. His physical reaction and quickening breath only served to encourage her and she moved down his and started to unbutton the top half of his shirt. A crash outside in the hall made her realize just what it was she was doing and she leapt off the bed.
Hermione adjusted both her jumper and Harry's shirt and calmed her breath the best she could manage and bolted from the room.
On her way out, Hermione saw a couple of orderlies wrestling with a man who refused to be taken out of a room as his son went into critical state.
Her stomach was in knots, but not from being hot as it was earlier. She felt completely disgusted with herself.
She was a pervert, forcing herself on a defenseless person who would have trusted her with anything.
She was no better than that death eater Dolohov, who had committed many such acts himself; although to her own credit he wouldn't have stopped himself.
The thought that she was no better than a rapist sent her right back into the loo where she spent the next half hour in a mix of crying and losing what little food she had eaten.
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"Arthur, have you noticed that Hermione is acting a bit strange lately?" Molly Weasley asked
Arthur Weasley just looked at her in a funny way as if saying 'Well can you blame her?' which Molly apparently caught.
"I just mean that she's… its almost if… oh never you mind." Molly said. She loved her husband with all of her heart but even he was a bit thick at times. She would get to the bottom of this herself…
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The silence was sickening.
His thoughts were jumbled and struggled to remember who and where he was but to no avail.
It seemed as if he was drowning in shallow water but lacked the ability to raise his head up and breathe.
He relaxed as he felt a familiar touch on his cheek. His content increased ten-fold when the presence began to hold him more intimately and caress his face.
He felt an odd feeling of weight encompassed his hips and before he could explore it further he felt an incredibly hot sensation on his lips that moved to the top of his neck and began to go lower…
As quick as the sensations had come, they quickly left and were soon replaced by the darkness and silence he had come to know; not to mention a very stiff… uncomfortable feeling.
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A week later
Hermione had just been through a week of pure hell and that was an understatement. With everybody now going home since all school had canceled for the remainder of the year, Hermione had found herself in a predicament. It would be way too hard for her to just return home to the quiet life with everything the way it was in the wizarding world not to mention… she would pull all of the hair out of her head worrying about Harry.
The Weasleys were kind enough to let her stay over in Ginny's room. Mrs. Weasley had subtly implied that she would be staying at least until summer.
'The Situation', as she had come to call it, had only just recently improved, she could now control her urges for the most part but that didn't make up for the hell of a time she had confronting them earlier.
She had even lacked the concentration to read any books so she could only speculate on what had cause her sudden, to put it mildly, arousal around anything that had to do with Harry.
It couldn't have been some stupid teenage thing, for one she was already past those stages of puberty and secondly in no way could it ever be that extreme.
She vowed to separate herself from Harry ever since she had almost raped him at least until she figured out what was wrong with her.
If it was just some silly crush she could just push it aside and relent to just be there for him (she'd done that off and on since she'd met him), but this wasn't something she could control.
It was just too much of a risk to be around him, she might not snap out of it next time. Hermione could honestly confirm deep down inside, if she was locked in a room with Harry, she probably would take advantage of him.
The thought made her sick when she admitted it, but admitting you have a problem is often the first step to fixing a problem.
At first she just tried separation which didn't help at all. She would either be extremely temperamental or she'd just cave in eventually and go see Harry anyway with the intention of finishing what she started which happened twice and thank god Mrs. Weasley was there on both occasions.
Although it had EXTREMELY frustrated Hermione at the time, she had felt thankful that the mere thought of "getting caught red handed" had at least done a better job of swaying her dark side than her inhibitions did.
She'd also tried relieving the tension herself.
Hermione blushed when she thought of the many times that she'd been intimate with herself thinking of Harry. Her self-esteem couldn't really go any lower now so saying to herself that she often masturbated to Harry really didn't have all that bad of an effect on her conscience when she considered the alternative.
It was just once every five or six hours at first, but it soon got worse. Before she knew it, it was every fifteen to thirty minutes that she had to get some alone time. She'd been in such a hurry the second time that she'd put a locking charm on the door but forgot the silencing charm and Ginny had come bursting in when she heard Hermione moaning.
It wasn't quite as awkward as Hermione thought it would be; Ginny had smiled, scolded her for giving her a heart attack, and told her that the lubricant was in her underwear drawer and left as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
What really disturbed her was just how much lubricant the girl owned. She must be completely obsessed with sex to need that much. Oh if only Neville knew what he was getting into…
Hermione sighed to herself as she slipped on her black dress. Although it was uncomfortable, 'The Situation' now no longer required her to run off every two minutes and use that magical lubricant Ginny gave her, but oh Merlin did it help. She'd just now gotten through using it again this morning.
She was to attend the service of a long time friend and Hermione didn't think she'd be able to live with herself if she wondered off to masturbate while people were grieving in the other room.
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There was a service going on just outside of a quidditch pitch for Seamus Finnigan. Normally a pitch would never be used for such an event, but with all the people who had willingly given their lives for the sake of the world, rules were being bended.
Ron calmly set on a bench with Charlie and Ginny on either side of him.
Ron spared a glanced over to his left at frowned as he saw a completely composed and quiet Hermione sitting next to his mother.
You make sure that this girl loves you before you slip her this.
Those words echoed in Ron's mind.
Over a week and the effect of his potion had already worn off and yet throughout it all Ron had received no amorous confessions or even discrete advances from Hermione.
Could that old hag have been right? Was Hermione not in love with him?
No, that couldn't be it. They've had too much history for it to be a fluke. Hermione was just a strong individual and it'd take a stronger dosage to sway her willpower is all. He'd given her twice the normal amount it would take to sway a normal person and yet she still managed to excuse herself just before she lost control.
Ron smiled to himself as he thought of the heat-full expression she adopted when he confessed his love for her. She looked about ready to shag him in the hallway. If a measly twenty five percent of his stash could have that effect on her, just imagine how bad she'd want him if he gave her the rest of it all at once!
Ron giggled to himself like a little girl causing several nearby people, including his family and Hermione to shoot death glares at him. Ron quickly quieted down, after all this was a service and he felt genuinely sorry that Seamus had died.
There would be plenty of food and drink at the luncheon before the burial service and so there would be plenty of opportunities to slip Hermione the rest of the potion.
Tonight, Hermione would be riding him like a wild stallion…