Author's Note: I don't own Harry Potter but I do own any OC's you see in this story (there's going to be a lot of them!)
First ever lemon in this chapter!
Key!
This- Journal entries
This- Memories
This- Modern world
000- Scene break
Chapter Three
Rescue
Harry awoke rather early the following day and frowned, the pull to read the Grimoire had indeed become stronger while he slept. Not so much as to cause him discomfort like yesterday, but enough so that Harry had to fight the draw consciously. Harry left his bed thankful that he only had to make it past breakfast before he could pop to the room holding the Grimoire.
Entering the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione at his side, Harry watched as Dean whispered into a giggling Ginny's ear and was pleased that the monster in his chest didn't erupt in jealousy. Of course, Harry felt bad that he was able to blow Ginny off so quickly considering that he had lusted after her since the summer, but they were both teenagers and he'd get over it.
Grabbing a seat somewhere, Harry scanned the hall, without Ginny blocking up his head he was able to look at other witches with a fair eye. Over at the Hufflepuff table, Susan Bones sat with Hannah Abbot. Susan was a curvy red-head with gray eyes; if she didn't look so much like the girl he was trying to get over (with bigger breasts, of course) he'd seriously consider asking her out. Hanna was blonde and had fair skin. Harry supposed she was attractive with her pouty lips and big, blue eyes and modest bust, but he knew that she and Neville had an unofficial thing going on, with each too shy to make a move on the other. They were whispering in hushed tones and Hanna's face was tinged pink as she looked on a clueless Neville who was helping himself to eggs and bacon.
At the Ravenclaw table, Luna sat making some kind of sandwich out of waffles and fried chicken, which was odd, not only for the horrid taste but because Hogwarts didn't serve waffles in the first place, leaving Harry wondering how she got them. Shaking his head, he moved on. Padma Patil sat a few seats down from Luna, every few minutes her eyes would flick to the willowy blonde's culinary monstrosity and the pretty Indian witch would shudder. Across from Padma was Mandy Brocklehurst and Lisa Turpin. Mandy had curly blond hair, brown eyes, and a slightly chubby face, but many were surprised when her matronly attitude, even at the age of eleven, which was weird, hadn't landed her in Hufflepuff. Lisa Turpin was a chatty witch who had honey-blonde hair and dark eyes. Currently, all three were trying to ignore Luna's breakfast but be kind to her at the same time.
Harry even did a cursory scan of the Slytherin table, not that he expected to date any of them with a Dark Lord out to get him through his loved ones; it'd be too easy to get them alone in the house of Snakes. Figuring there was nothing wrong with looking (or oogling, in this case) he let his eyes wander. In his year, the only two girls who stood out were Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis. Daphne was a statuesque witch of Romanian descent with caramel skin, dark hair, and exotic eyes. Her cold demeanor had earned her the moniker, 'Ice Queen.' Tracey, on the other hand, was nearly the exact opposite; she was still beautiful, just in a different way. Her wavy golden hair naturally drew the eye and her bright, warm smile was seemingly the counter to Daphne's aloof persona. They were an odd match, but despite this, it was well known that they were best friends and partners.
Suddenly, Daphne looked up from her breakfast plate and caught Harry's eye before he could turn his head. Fully expecting a fierce glare, he was surprised when her tan cheeks darkened even further and she turned away, using her hair to demurely block his view. Looking to Tracey, he was further surprised to see her send him a quick wink before turning back to Daphne with a grin.
"Interesting..." murmured Harry before turning his thoughts inward, 'that bears watching... Maybe if I... No, with Voldemort out there it would be only too easy for a Junior Death Nibbler to curse her in the back.'
Putting his mind off Daphne, he decided to check out his own house as he ate. Katie Bell was a muggle born seventh year who had been his friend and teammate for six years. They had both been put on the Quidditch team at the same time and grew close as they endured the senior player's hazing. She had straight brown hair that she kept in a high ponytail and a sporty, girl-next-door charm to her that Harry really liked. Sitting next to Katie was her friend Leanne. She was good looking with long black hair and a heart-shaped face, but she always kept to the background. So much so, in fact, that Harry didn't even know her last name.
Going down the table Harry, saw Parvati Patil. The girl who had been his first (admittedly disastrous) date during the Yule Ball was identical to her sister in every way. Same shiny black hair kept in a plait, same beauty mark just off the left side of her lower lip. Their cheeks even dimpled in the same way when they laughed. Really, the major difference between the two Patil sisters was their personality. Whereas Padma was reserved and studious, Parvati was effervescent and whimsical. Harry didn't like comparing the two, because he thought they were both brilliant in their own way. Being thought of as 'the twins' would probably get annoying, especially when they were so different.
Ceasing his musing, he continued to scan the table.
Hermione sat next to him reading out of a heavy tome and absently spooning porridge into her mouth. Hermione was a special case; she was his closest friend and most avid supporter, she was his confidant and rock. She had always been there for him, which was more than he could say about anyone else, even Ron (though he more than made up for their fourth year during their fifth when he stood up for Harry against their housemates and endured his Voldemort induced mood swings.)
Yes, Harry loved Hermione with all his heart, and he likely always would. In a physical sense though... Hermione was perhaps three inches shorter than Harry and her formerly bushy, mousy hair was now a deep, curly chestnut color with natural golden highlights. Her front teeth had been shrunk in their fourth year, but Harry was positive that she would've grown into them had they been left alone. Hermione had big chocolate brown eyes and pale skin that he knew tanned very well. She had a modest bust, but Harry knew that she had an amazing bum, having been fortunate enough to see her in muggle jeans and shorts once or twice over the summers. Harry suspected that it came to be because of all the heavy books she'd carried over the years. Yes, unlike certain gingers, Harry had indeed been aware that Hermione was a girl, and always had been.
Harry knew that some witches would have a problem with his closeness with Hermione (like Cho, for instance) and would see her as competition, but that was their problem. If a girl ever made him choose between her and Hermione, then he'd probably choose his bookish friend, dating or no - he valued her friendship that much.
Taking a last bite of his croissant and drinking the last bit of his morning tea (black, two sugars,) Harry motioned for Hermione to follow him and sent a discreet message to Ron to meet in what the boy-who-lived was now calling the 'Reading Room' when he could get away from Lavender.
000
Harry and Hermione appeared with a pop in the Reading Room, each clutching the hand of a house elf, and Hermione turned to Harry. "So, how are you, Harry? With Ginny, I mean?"
Harry smiled. "I looked at her this morning and saw nothing but a friend. Y'know, it's odd how easily I was able to forget about her."
Hermione opened her mouth to respond when Ron popped in.
"Hey, guys." said the only ginger present. "What's up?"
"Nothing," shrugged Harry, "Just making small talk. You ready to start reading the Grimoire?
Ron nodded. "Yeah," he walked past them and Harry gave Hermione a wink over his shoulder before following his best mate to the chairs. Shaking her head, the Gryffindor bookworm joined her two friends.
Tapping the cover of the book, Harry sat at his chair directly across from the expanded tome.
000
After the wolf, I was unconscious for hours. I later discovered that my rescuer was a forty-four year old ex-Viking named Elfradr. He had spent his younger days looting and pillaging the English until his longboat happened upon a company of knights, rabble, and longbowmen. Elfradr was unfortunate enough to take an arrow to the knee and, though they removed the head and shaft, a painful and ever present limp forced his early retirement. Now, he was a trapper, with a simple cottage built in the woods. He easily grew and hunted for what he required, with no need to buy or trade for anything.
000
The journal started glowing with a new memory.
000
Amoda was laid upon a pile of furs near a fire pit, so as to keep her warm. An older man with graying, blond hair, silvery-blue eyes, and a slight beard sat on a stool next to her mixing a concoction of herbs and oils. Shifting his stool to the downed girl, he peeled back the tatty sleeve of her dress and used a wet cloth to gently clean the seeping wound to the best of his abilities. After that, he smeared the tincture of herbs and oils on the puncture wound and wrapped it in a clean, dry cloth. Standing, the man, who could only be Elfradr, limped his way to a shelf and put his medicinal supplies back in their place.
Covering Amoda with a fur, being careful to keep her right arm above the blanket, he nodded and shuffled his way to his own pallet where he fell asleep
000
The memory skipped and started playing a new scene
000
Elfradr woke the next day to the blade of a hatchet at his neck. Sighing, he turned and followed the head of the axe, to it's handle, along the left arm holding it, and to the face of a clearly frightened Viking girl. Elfradr simply raised an eyebrow.
"Who are you?" hissed the distraught girl.
"The one who saved you last night." in what he obviously thought was a soothing tone but was really more of a growl. "Who are you and why were you on my hunting grounds?"
"I'm the one with the axe here! Which means I'm asking the questions!"
Elfradr sighed and, quicker than greased lightning, he grabbed the hatchet from Amoda's grasp with his right hand and poked her injured arm with his left hand index finger.
Amoda sank to her knees in pain. "Owww..." whined the village girl.
"Are you done?" asked the burly ex-warrior, absently cleaning his ear with his pinky.
"Yeah..." replied the Viking girl in defeat cradling her smarting right arm.
"Good," said the Trapper, de-pinkying his ear. "To answer your question, I am Elfradr."
"Amoda...
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Smafugl." said Elfradr all too pleasantly. "Why did you hold an Axe to my neck?"
Amoda hesitated and then sighed. "I-I'm scared, I mean, yesterday I was disowned, then I'm hunted by a wolf, and now I wake up and I don't know where I am!" The girl looked close to tears.
"Whoa... Whoa..." said Elfradr, shushing her. "Start at the beginning."
000
And so I told him everything...
000
"Hammer of Thor..." muttered Elfradr before turning to Amoda. "Here's what I'll do. You can stay here for two months and I'll train you to survive in the wild world."
Instead of being happy, Amoda was suspicious. "Why? Why would you do that for someone you don't know and have no obligation to help?"
Elfradr grinned. "Well what do you know?" teased the ex-Viking. "Smafugl is smarter than she looks. Alright, here's the deal: I teach you to fight and how to hunt and in return you do any women's work I have." He chuckled. "Hel, I'll even teach you a few life lessons..."
000
I spent a few minutes thinking hard about what Elfradr had offered. I could detect no lie in his offer, and his open face belied no unscrupulus motives. Then I thought of the price of my tuition: women's work, I could do that. Hel, I had been trained to do women's work since I had been old enough to walk...
000
Amoda looked around the small cottage, obviously wondering how much cleaning and washing one man could accumulate. The Viking girl sent a tentative smile towards the older man. "You have a deal: You teach me how to fight and how to hunt, and I'll do your women's work."
Elfradr's grin widened and he stood. "Good," said the ex-Viking. "We start today, follow me." he limped to a door leading farther in to his home, Amoda trailing nervously behind him.
Entering a back room, Elfradr, motioned Amoda in after him. The room was small, and seemed to be used mostly for the storage of odd bits. In one corner he had three sealed barrels stacked one on top of the other two. In another he had spare furs for those extra cold nights and a stack of dried wood, obviously for the fire pit back in the house's main room. Hanging from the ceiling, he had cured meat and dried herbs. On a shelf he had several jars and spare dishes. But it was a shadowy corner farthest away from the door that Elfradr stomped to, while Amoda followed meekly behind. Laying on the floor was a simple, but large, unadorned chest with a latch made of iron to keep it closed.
Kneeling with a grunt, Elfradr grabbed at the latch and flipped it unlocked. Opening the chest, Amoda saw a pile of ragged cloth and an assortment of weapons in their sheaths. The ex-Viking drew several of the weapons from the chest while looking at Amoda with a discerning and professional eye. From it's depths he pulled twin daggers, a one-handed axe, a shortsword, a roughly hewn short-bow with a quiver of arrows, and an iron hammer on a short handle. Closing the chest, he silently nodded for Amoda to pick up two of the simple, circular shields leaning against the wall and follow him.
Back in the main room, Elfradr motioned Amoda to a second chest where she found several old, tatty clothes. "These are my old clothes from when I was just a lad, they should fit you better than anything I wear now. Get dressed and meet me out front..."
000
The memory skipped.
000
Amoda stepped out of the front door. She was wearing a slightly loose pair of brown breeches with a few small tears in the knees, obviously the best pair if she consented to holey clothes, a faded green tunic cinched around the waist with a strip of black cloth, and a pair of scuffed up boots. She had tied her shorter hair up to the best of her ability (as she was not used to it hanging loose) and she silently promised to run a comb through it as soon as possible because loose strands kept falling from it and tickling her nose and cheeks.
She scanned the clearing and found Elfradr sitting against a shady tree working a piece of wood with a small knife, the pile of weapons next to him and, oddly enough, the short bow and it's quiver of arrows a few feet away from even them. She stepped forward and approached him gingerly, trying to come to terms with the different feel of men's clothes when compared to the dresses that she had always worn.
"I thought Ragnarok would come before you finished." said Elfradr without looking up from his whittling."
"Yes, well..." began Amoda awkwardly. "You must've been a very large lad, because your clothes were still too big on me. I had to do some alterations so that I wasn't drowning in my new garments."
Elfradr simply shrugged and tossed his bit of wood over his shoulder. Standing, the ex-Viking limped to the pile of weapons and handed Amoda the shortsword, still in it's sheath. The teenage girl tentatively grasped the sword by it's scabbard and held it far away from her as though it were a snake about to strike.
Elfradr chuckled. "Okay, first rule." said the retired warrior. "Weapons don't kill," when Amoda looked ready to ask a question he amended. "it's the people wielding them that do the deed. Alone, that sword would rust into nothing, but in the hands of a skilled Viking, it is a tool for slaughter."
Amoda grasped the sheath tightly and nodded, fearing a weapon when in friendly hands was silly, and there were no more friendly a pair of hands in the world than your own.
Elfradr grinned. "Now, everyone has a disposition with weapons, some are of a slight build, so they would favor light weapons. Other's, like me, are strong enough for heavy weapons." he chuckled. "When I was a Viking, I used a hammer that was probably as heavy as you are." he suddenly turned serious. "Don't let it get into your head that any one style is better than another. Big, cumbersome weapons are more powerful, yes, but the light blades also have a definite advantage. Do you know what that is?"
Amoda took a moment to think it over and said: "They're lighter, so they're quicker, allowing for more attacks?"
"Very good," praised Elfradr. "Now you'll notice that I only pulled light weapons from storage." Amoda nodded as she had noticed that. "I think the reason is obvious, you are of a slight build! I'm sure that the life of a farm girl would build up some muscle but it would never be enough to wield anything larger than what you see before you."
Amoda was silent for a moment before she asked a question that had been bugging her since she had left the house: "Elfradr, what about the bow? It's light, right? And it seems like the safest weapon."
"Ah..." nodded the burly blond. "The bow is a safe weapon because you can be so far away from any actual fighting and still claim enemy lives. It is also light, in that it weighs very little, simply because it is a piece of curved wood and a bit of string. But I don't count it a light weapon because you need the muscle strength to pull it taught. You should be able to use the short bow to hunt, which was why I pulled it from the chest in the first place, but for active combat with a rushing enemy? No, it's best to use the short bow only when you can get a preemptive kill."
Amoda nodded.
"Now," said Elfradr handing Amoda the shield and showing her the best way to equip it. "If you put your shield up and give a swing of that sword, we'll start trying to find the best weapon for you."
000
The journal ceased it's glowing and it's lilting voice sounded in the Reading Room.
000
We tried many weapon combinations ranging from the sword and shield, a style that balances offense and defense. The twin daggers, a style that relies on speed to evade your opponent and forgoes any kind of reliable defense. The one-handed hammer and a shield, a slower, but more powerful version of the sword and shield. And finally, I found my strength in the one-handed axe and shield...
000
Amoda collapsed in the midday sun, panting heavily as she laid upon her back, her axe to her left side and her shield to her right. Elfradr loomed over her downed form, offered her a water skin, and laughed when her hand snaked out and swiped it from his grasp so that she could take a mighty gulp.
Sitting next to his protege, Elfradr spoke in a soft voice. "The one-handed axe and shield is sort of like a Viking's bread and butter. It's simple, easy to use, easy to repair and sharpen..."
Amoda nodded, still out of breath.
"From now on, when you are out of the house, you are to keep those two items on you. I'll be springing surprise attacks on you to keep you on your toes."
Amoda gave him an 'are you serious?' look and he chuckled.
"It sounds insane, I know. But it's how my own commander taught me and my peers how to fight. We would be attacked by veterans of the company at all hours of the night..." he grinned at the fond memory.
"Come now," said Elfradr standing. "Let's eat lunch and then I'll teach you to hunt."
000
I spent the next week learning both how to fight with my axe, as well as the two daggers for a back up, and the ins and outs of a self-sufficient lifestyle, including the use of a short bow for hunting and the identifying and usage of herbs and plants. I was confused though; every time I tried to clean, cook, sew, or do what was generally called 'Women's Work,' Elfradr would shoo me away. I was concerned that he'd think that I was taking advantage of his hospitality
Well, on the next Lördag, I was bathing in a hot spring roughly a hundred yards from the back of my mentor's home, pondering the problem when I finally discovered what he meant by 'Women's Work...'
000
Amoda, sat, nude as the day she had been born, at the rocky edge of one of the many natural hotsprings Scandinavia was known for.
000
Harry and Hermione blushed, while Ron was proving his Weasley roots by practically glowing the same color as his hair and sounding as though someone was strangling him.
000
The Viking girl ran a comb through her hair and hummed when still more loose hair separated from her tangled locks. Frowning, Amoda stood and slipped into the heated water. Dunking her head, she ran her fingers along her scalp to loosen up any final stray hairs. Amoda spent the next few moments underwater before swimming to an empty part of the spring and bursting forth, her breasts jiggling in time. A quick comb through showed no loose hairs and Amoda smiled.
Suddenly, she heard the familiar shuffling stomp of her mentor entering the glade, and she dunked all but her head underwater, mentally cursing it's clarity. "Elfradr! What are you doing here?"
He simply raised his eyebrow and took off his tunic revealing a scarred, slightly hairy chest. "It's Lördag." he said by way of explanation. "I'm taking a bath."
"Bu - It's - I'm naked!"
Elfradr grinned, a leer in his eye. "I can see that."
"THEN TURN AROUND AND LET ME GET OUT!" screamed Amoda, blushing furiously.
The old Viking simply chuckled and started undoing the belt to his pants, and when Amoda could see that he was about to drop his trousers without a care, she turned her back to him and clenched her eyes shut, flinching when she heard the heavy fabric hit the forest floor.
She then heard the sound of a body sliding into the water and felt the ripples on her neck. And a singular thought coursed through her overtaxed mind: I'm in the bath naked with an equally naked man!
The sound of water sloshing startled her from her musings and she felt a hand trailing up her back. Jumping, Amoda turned around at sonic speed and ran backwards until she was firmly pressed against a rock.
"You're too tense." said Elfradr approaching slowly, the undulating, waist-high water obscuring his most private of places. Amoda tried to back up further but couldn't. "It's time to collect on that 'women's work' you promised."
"B-b-but, I thought that w-women's work meant t-things like, cleaning and c-cooking?" stuttered Amoda, her face, shoulders, and chest sporting a huge blush.
Elfradr laughed, now looming over the smaller teen, "Cooking? Cleaning? No, I've lived on my own for many years, I can do all that easily! But I need a woman to sate myself and my desires!" Elfradr closed the distance, raised Amoda to a standing position, and pressed his lips to hers.
Amoda stilled and tried not to move as Elfradr moved his lips against hers, when suddenly, his tongue pried her mouth open and plundered her oral cavity. Amoda beat on his hard, muscled chest in an effort to get him off of her, but it was no use against the hardened warrior. Elfradr then brought his hand up to cup one of his student's breasts and he grinned into his kiss, they were little more than a handful and topped with perky pink nipples, their light dusting of brown freckles just added to their allure.
Abruptly, Elfradr pulled away from Amoda and grabbed her hands. He dunked them underwater and forced her to feel his throbbing manhood. "Look at what you do to me! This has been a constant since the moment I rescued you!"
Despite herself, Amoda looked downwards and saw the spongy, purple head of Elfradr's hard meat bobbing in the hot spring water.
000
Harry, Hermione, and Ron all looked to each other; none of them had expected this.
000
"I want you," moaned Elfradr as he made Amoda's soft hands slowly stroke his excited prick, "and so I'll have you!"
In a moment of panic and adrenaline induced strength, Amoda pulled one of her hands free from his grasp and lashed out with a fist. She smacked into his unprotected eye with all the force she could muster and Elfradr went reeling backwards. Amoda scrambled out from under the larger man and ran for the weapons she kept on the rocky shore. Somehow, she was able to ignore her nudity as she dove for her shield and axe.
Elfradr stood from where he had fallen over and looked to his protege and he frowned; she looked terrified, crouching behind her shield, her axe raised and her eyes blank. And suddenly, he remembered what he had just tried to do. Knowing he had just blown it, he sank to the ground and wept, horrified at his attempted rape.
The two Vikings each sat there in semi silence for several seconds until Elfradr raised himself and slowly approached the still scared teenage girl. As he grew closer, Amoda's axe-hand started shaking until her mentor threw himself upon the ground in front of her.
"I'm sorry!" shouted Elfradr. "I let my lusts control me! It's just that I've been alone for so long that I desperately wanted human companionship! And then a beautiful girl needs my help and it was all too easy to gain your trust... I beg your forgiveness! If you want me to take you to the nearest village so you can forget this then I will! Take my life if it'll appease you! Just don't think ill of me! I couldn't bear it!"
000
For the first time, I thought of him, not as a pillar of strength, or a hero who embodied what it was to be a proud Viking warrior, but a man. A lonely man who had lived by himself in the woods for far too long. A man so out of depth that he prostrated himself before a teenage girl and begged for forgiveness...
000
Elfradr slowly raised his head and looked into the blanked face of his student. Wincing, he stood and, suddenly aware of his nudity, covered himself in shame. Turning, he skulked to the edge of the clearing where he spoke over his shoulder: "I'll prepare you a pack and take you to the edge of the forest-"
"-Wait!" shouted Amoda, standing and using the shield to cover herself. Walking tentatively, Amoda dropped her axe as she approached her teacher. Elfradr looked upon Amoda with sorrowfull eyes, and the teen knew then that he regretted what he had done, and what he had been about to do, not because she would leave, but because he had hurt someone he genuinely liked, as a friend if nothing more.
"Wait..." repeated Amoda, feeling strangely calm despite the foreign thoughts flying through her consciousness. She slowly reached up and touched his jawline, unshaved and ungroomed, not, she abruptly realized, because he liked it that way, but because he just didn't have anyone who cared.
Elfradr flinched away from her touch, he didn't deserve any forgiveness she meted out.
"Shh..." cooed the girl, moving her hands from his jaw to his neck where she traced his collarbone and down to his hairy chest and even farther down to his hips. Hesitantly, she dropped her shield and stood, fully naked in front of her would-be attacker, for some reason, modesty just didn't seem all too important at that time.
000
By now, the Gryffindor Trio were blushing so hard it was difficult to tell which one was the Weasley. Both the black-haired boy and the ginger looked uncomfortable in their jeans and Hermione would subtly rub her legs together every so often. But still, Harry didn't stop the reading.
000
Amoda stepped into Elfradr's guard and gently wrapped her arms around his muscled torso. "I forgive you..." whispered the Viking girl.
"W-why?" stuttered Elfradr, taken aback.
"Because you stopped." said Amoda quietly. "you gained control of yourself and stopped. Then you realized what you had done, and you apologized because you know what you were going to do was wrong. You even offered your life in atonement. I forgive you."
Elfradr's eyes widened when he realized that both him and the girl he had just tried to rape were wrapped in a naked embrace. Softly, he pushed back on Amoda's shoulders and turned away, desperately hoping that the proof of his arousal would go away.
Softly, Amoda walked around her mentor and looked into his eyes before she grasped his turgid rod and gave it a few experimental tugs. "Come with me..." She slowly walked to a soft patch of grass where she had abandoned her clothes, her developing hips swaying unconsciously. Amoda laid upon the grass and used her bundled clothes as a pillow to support her head, she didn't know where it was coming from, but it felt as though a knot had clenched in her stomach and she was doing what came naturally, instinctively, in an effort to make that knot dissolve.
Elfradr approached her slowly, all the while, the look on his face said that he didn't fully believe that something so miraculous was happening to him, especially after what he had nearly done to the girl laying in front of him.
"It's okay..." soothed Amoda, her face red as she spread her legs for a man for the first time.
Elfradr sank to his knees softly and positioned himself between his student's legs, his hand grabbed at his long member and he started tugging in an effort to alleviate at least some of the pressure. Now that Amoda wasn't fighting for her purity she could take a moment to examine the first cock she had ever seen; It had a purple helmet and seemed to have a hood that it could shrug on and off with every stroke. It was long, perhaps seven inches and as thick as three of Amoda's fingers, and it's base was covered in coarse blond curls.
Amoda decided right then that men got the weirder sex organ.
The ex-Viking loomed over the teenage girl, but instead of it being terrifying, it was comforting to have so strong a male covering her. It touched something primal in her and the knot in her stomach tightened even further.
The older man ran his hands across Amoda's flat belly and a moan sounded from the auburn-haired lass' parted lips. Elfradr's hand slowly traced down her pelvis and paused for a moment to caress the soft, downy tuft of hair above her lower lips. His hand traced even further down to her virgin snatch. Pulling back his hand, he was pleased to see wet fingers.
Positioning himself with his rod at her entrance, he waited for a nod. Upon receiving it, Elfradr slowly prodded forward with his prick, parting her feminine folds and catching himself on a tight, wet hole. Amoda moaned at the contact and rolled her hips forward. Grinning, Elfradr thrust forward, annihilating her maidenhead and burying himself halfway into Amoda's tight, teen cunt as she cried out in pain at the loss of her virginity.
"Shh..." comforted Elfradr, determined to stay still so Amoda could adjust to her first cock.
"H-Hammer of T-Thor! S-So big..." grunted the no-longer virgin Viking girl.
Elfradr bent forward and took one of Amoda's pink nipples into his mouth, making the teenage girl moan when he rolled the nub of flesh between his teeth and began lathing it with the tip of his tongue.
Amoda brought her hands up and wrapped them around her lover's head, smashing him to her bosom. Wrapping her long legs around his back, she rolled her hips, trying to get him deeper inside of her welcoming heat.
"Are you ready?" asked Elfradr in a strained voice.
"Yesh!" slurred Amoda, clenching herself on the invading member.
With a roar, Elfradr slammed himself as deep as he could go, before pulling back so that just the head was inside and repeating the process.
000
For nearly fifteen minutes, the Reading Room was filled with the sounds of rough sex. Moans and grunts reverberated off the stone walls and none of the teenage watchers were unaffected. Hermione was openly panting and Ron and Harry had to constantly readjust their trousers so as to not hurt themselves.
000
And suddenly, Elfradr buried himself deep inside of his young lover and started shaking through his intense orgasm. The feeling of years of pent up cum flooding her barren womb pushed Amoda over the edge and her muscles seized as pleasure shot from her core and lanced through her body, centering on her nipples before looping back to her most private places. Instead of dissolving, the knot in her stomach seemed to explode outward and Amoda cried out rapturously in her first ever climax.
Elfradr slowly pulled out and fell next to his protege with a contented sigh. He raised his arm so Amoda rolled over on her side and laid her head on Elfradr's chiseled chest, smiling when his strong arm wrapped around her protectively. Together, the blissful lovers fell asleep in their post orgasmic haze, cum leaking from Amoda's nether lips and staining the ground around them.
000
Later on in my life, a friend had asked me a question: Why I had given my first time to a man who not only tried to rape me, but also was nearly thirty years older than me. And, well, I suppose some of that would be pity. I felt sorry for Elfradr, who had lived alone for so long with no one to connect with (personally, I thought that he and my Matr would be a good match.) But that alone would normally not be enough... You see, even before then, I had been attracted to Elfradr, of course, I hadn't realized this until I led him to that soft spot of grass and allowed him to rut away inside of me. I had been raised to respect Viking warriors. They embodied all that it was to be a true man and I superimposed that perfect image over Elfradr's. I believe that my subconscious desire, coupled with the trauma of what had nearly happened to me, overrode my logic and I let him fuck me when normally I wouldn't have...
Well, after that. We woke and took another bath, this time we each washed the other, as the semen leaking from my sore vagina had long ago dried and become itchy. We then walked back to the cottage in silence, and I could tell that my first lover was having doubts.
After what I had just done for him (and for me, though I wasn't ready to acknowledge that part of myself, the part that liked being a scarlet woman) I wasn't about to let him sink into a depression. So I - Er - seduced him. I backed him to a tree, sank to my knees, and asked him what service I could provide him with (of course, I used more flowery language and I think I called him 'My Lord' but I can't really remember.)
It just so happens that, when he was a Viking, he met a whore in France who performed something called 'Fellatio.' Where a woman uses her mouth to bring a man to orgasm. Elfradr had only that one woman fellate him, any others had refused the act.
I'll give you one guess as to what he wanted me to do.
It turns out that I don't really have a problem with fellatio. Swallowing semen isn't my favorite thing, but I'll do it if it get's my lover ready for the main act. Of course that confidence came later, the first few times I was a wreck. Nervous and blushing, I went down on Elfradr, proving to him that I really wanted what we had done...
000
Harry stood (hunched really, as his pants were suspiciously tight) and hobbled to the journal. Tapping it with his wand, he stopped the story. He turned to his companions and before he could say anything, Ron had jumped up, not bothering to cover himself (and proving to his friends that Lavender had been lying - he was not well hung. Infact, he was barely average) and called for a house elf mumbling something along the lines of "Need to see a blonde about a thing!" Ron disappeared with a soft pop and absently, the thought that Lavender was in for a furious shagging ran through Harry's mind.
Harry turned to Hermione, thinking that if he had been able to come to that conclusion then so had she, and opened his mouth only to see his bushy-haired friend standing just inches away. Jumping back in surprise, Harry barely noticed when Hermione stepped closer.
"Harry," said Hermione in a breathy tone that did strange things to Harry's stomach. "I need you to do something for me."
"What?" squeaked Harry.
Hermione leaned close, so close that Harry could feel her minty breath on his lips, and kissed him, full on the mouth. Pulling back she said: "Take me..."
000 Chapter End 000
Author's Note, the first: So, yeah... The promised smut has been delivered. This was only my second attempt at writing sex and I must say that writing a lemon with an apartment full of visiting family members was nerve wracking. Then I was embarrassed when it came time to upload it because it was my first published lemon and I felt more than a little sleazy.
Has anyone else had this problem? This story is supposed to be laden with Violence and Sex and while I have the former down pat (infact I love writing fight scenes and they appear in all of my stories,) the latter makes me unaccountably nervous. I think the problem is that I don't want to seem like a pervert but I have to be to at least a little perverted to come up with the situations Amoda finds herself in and then put them to electronic paper.
It's quite the quandary...
PS: Do you have any idea how hard it is to make an attempted rapist a sympathetic character? It's really hard!
Please Review! (Especially the smut, I would like to improve that area of my writing.)