Disclaimer: Harry Potter & his world belong to J. K. Rowling.
Rated M for mature readers. Sexual content in this chapter.
Chapter 12:
In May, Harry and Julie rose late one Sunday, and breakfasted in contentment. It was a warm and sunny day.
There was a discovery awaiting them outside. Two big Andalusian mares grazed peacefully in their paddock, two tiny foals lay in the grass next to them. Black Senorita had a black foal, white Lady had an odd coloured foal. It had white and grey patches, like a piebald, and a black splash covered one ear and an eye. Harry stared in surprise. The foal's colour didn't follow any laws of genetics that he knew.
"Clown," said Julie. "He should be called Clown."
Clarice was due to have a foal, too, and also came to talk to them.
Ben had laughed at Harry when he mentioned once that the mare was called Clarice. Harry had long forgotten being sick once, not in his right mind, and asking he and Hermione to send for Clarice or Antoinette or Berthe. Not many men would have named a horse after a French prostitute!
The pinto was in an adjacent paddock now. Kintu had lost her latest foal, but now stayed very close to the little stallion, who had again taken matters into his own hands. He may have been too small to jump tall fences, but he was very good at opening gates. Kintu's next foal would be by the pinto.
**x**
But the next week, Harry worked in Sweden, and the second day, looked around, carefully scanning his surroundings, and told Brad that something wasn't right, that they needed to be alert. Brad never doubted him this time, and a word to the Swedes had the Swedish aurors especially alert. Not long after, their numbers were reinforced. The Swedes, too, had the highest respect for Harry Potter's instinct for danger. The heavy protection was very obvious.
He went to dinner once with Helmer and his wife. Helmer was still Helmer Roos - Harry may have been his genetic father, but was never like a real father, and Helmer still remembered his love for the man who had been his mother's husband. It never occurred to him to call himself Helmer Potter. After the evening, Harry returned home to his wife, as he did every night.
Nothing happened in Sweden, except that Harry showed himself more and more alert, and began to show those characteristics of long ago, frequent, wary glances around, and a constant, alert awareness of his surroundings.
Nothing happened in the next few weeks. Harry felt uneasy.
Several times, he went to see Draco Malfoy, looking for Nerrissa, and finally telling Draco that he suspected his grand-daughter might be watching him, to hurt him…. or something...
Draco looked very well again, to Harry's relief. Harry was nearly seventy-nine, and an age-mate who looked to him almost the same as ever, was a relief to him. Draco had few lines, stood straight and tall, and his white-blonde hair still looked white-blonde.
A routine work day in June. They were in Brazil, and Julie was with them, as Harry wanted his wife, but didn't want it known that he could apparate from South America to England. He had relaxed a lot when they first came to South America. They were doing three weeks straight, in three different countries, and this was their third week. Jebedee had rostered on more aurors, and more experienced aurors for this extended stay.
This was their last week, and then there was to be a week off, then Europe again. Harry had suggested to Julie that they just clear out, sink out of sight for a year or more, where they would not be in danger. But those letters when he sought to make her homesick might have been more effective than he realised. She didn't want to leave home.
Wednesday, and the usual succession of patients were shown in, cured, and steered efficiently out. Harry was bored, and paid little attention to his patients, scarcely noticing except when there was a more difficult one than usual, and that seemed more rare these days.
Simon was with him, and it was the Brazilian receptionist who brought in patient after patient.
A wizard was brought in, Harry gave him a bare glance, waved his wand casually, which didn't work, and started paying more attention. The man's face was that of a bat, reminding Harry of a little bat-girl once. He hadn't seen that spell since, and that had been many years ago.
He concentrated, feeling for the spell. But he felt something else as well.
Suddenly very alert, he asked the receptionist to get Brad for him. He didn't take his eyes off the wizard, and Simon was suddenly alert, too, and drew his wand. The wizard was very tense, cast his eyes about, and abruptly dashed for the door, but Simon hurled a trip jinx, and he went crashing into the waiting room. He spun around, and tried to stun Simon, but Simon was very quick, and he found himself disarmed, and tied helpless, to the alarm and surprise of others waiting.
"Well done," commented Harry.
Brad arrived, staring at the bat-faced wizard in confusion. There was a succession of squeaks and squeals, protests from the afflicted wizard.
"What's the meaning of this? Why is he attacked?" asked the Brazilian Coordinator.
Brad, too, was looking at Harry in confusion. Harry was leaning against the wall of the waiting room, wand in hand, looking intently at the wizard, although casting a wary look around at the others present as well.
"You might like to get one of the Brazilian aurors in here," suggested Harry, "Then I'll make him tell us why he's here."
He had to cure him first, though, so that he could talk.
With a little lightly magical persuasion, the wizard was soon telling them that he had been cursed on purpose, by three wizards together so the spell would be hard to break, and then, while Harry was off-guard and hopefully weary straight after curing him, he was to do something very nasty to Harry.
Harry shuddered, even though he thought that Catherine would probably have been able to put him right, if he didn't manage to fix himself. But how incredibly embarrassing it would have been. And what a story if the newspapers got hold of it!
But Harry was curious. "That's a very nasty curse they did to you. What if I didn't fix you?"
The wizard stated bitterly that he had no choice, that they did it to him without his consent.
Harry laughed, that'd be right. He did some more questioning then. He especially wanted to know who was responsible, and when the wizard didn't appear to know, he tried to see if the wizard at least had some idea if it was male or female.
But it seemed there were too many people between the one who had tried to do the action, and the one who had tried again to hurt him. He left it to the aurors then, getting on with the work as if nothing had happened. He didn't even tell Julie, though she found out from the aurors, and when Harry tried to persuade her to go home, she actually did. He would never have forgiven himself if they'd attacked Julie like they'd attacked little Tess.
Julie knew about Tess, even that she'd been let into his room while he slept. Harry and Julie never mentioned it. She had it from a different source, and never held it against him.
Harry wasn't even involved in another incident that happened that day. There was no-one hurt, only two muggles with guns were stunned. It would have been awkward to hand them over to the muggle police, but the Brazilian aurors were going to take care of it.
That night, there was another attack. This time there was an attempt to enter the hotel, but the prowling aurors stopped them. And as it was unclear whether they were on their way in or their way out, they checked on Harry. Simon was on guard, and said that there had been no disturbance, that Harry was safe inside.
"Are you sure?"
Simon pulled out his eavesdropping device, standard equipment for aurors, listened, but could hear nothing. It would have been easier if Harry snored.
Brad was suddenly suspicious, and asked Simon to open the door. It wouldn't be the first time that Harry had disapparated from within, and not told them. Brad had shared some complaints with Franz over the years.
But when Brad peered in, he could see Harry, almost naked, prone on the bed. It was not for long, as suddenly, light flooded the room, Harry was up and standing next to the bed, fully alert, very tense, and with wand raised in his hand.
He lowered his wand as he regarded the startled aurors at the door.
"What is it?" he asked.
Brad said, "Just making sure that you're safe - and here."
Harry assured him, "I won't go out without telling you - not these days - and I'm even wearing the location device that I'm not supposed to know about!" referring to the watch that now had the extra device added.
Brad laughed shortly, "Good!"
"Something happen?"
But Brad said, "We dealt with it." He sometimes felt as if Harry thought the aurors helpless compared to himself.
"No-one hurt?" asked Harry, and Brad shook his head. "We'll tell you tomorrow."
Harry settled himself down again. Three attacks in one day, it was a bit much.
They finished the last two days' work with relief. They were very alert, and had a lot of help from the Brazilian aurors.
Harry was worried, not only that he might be attacked at any moment, but that someone around him would be hurt. He nearly always got to like the aurors, and it would hurt him to see them hurt, and there was Catherine, too, of whom he'd become very fond. Harry had not lived as long as he had by taking chances, and he cancelled any further spell-breaking trips until further notice. He'd been working every week with scarcely a break now for some time, they could do without him for a little.
Sandra Darke complained again. He was always inconveniencing her.
Harry had become very cautious, although Julie didn't like it when he insisted on being with her whenever she went out. He had a fear that Nerrissa might attack him through Julie. And still he could not track down Nerrissa, although Draco told him that Kryall had been in touch, and was now married, and already expecting a child. But Nerrissa was actually quite fond of Julie, even while she held her in some contempt. She didn't really have much brain!
**x**
Harry had done no work for six weeks except for a quick stint at Ben's office, where he was far more heavily protected than usual. But there was a plea from Germany, who had suddenly had a rash of pumpkin-heads on the weekend. Twenty-four, all muggles, and all within the last two days.
Sandra said they might as well do a week's work, since they were going anyway, but Jebedee ensured that Harry had more aurors than usual, and also that they were all experienced. Brad was in charge again, but instead of twenty-year-olds, Harry had Alex, Simon, Justin, Grant, Louis, and Fritz, none of them younger than twenty-five.
The pumpkin-heads were first, of course. Their rescue was urgent. This attack had made a lot of trouble for German wizardry, as so many muggles had been affected, both directly and indirectly. It was hard to keep secret the fact that wizards moved among them when they saw the head of a wife, for instance, suddenly turned to a pumpkin. There had been a need for a lot of memory modification. There were too many to deal with all at once, and they were spaced through the day, starting with a few before lunch, although normally, they only did an afternoon's work the first day.
Harry had warned Julie that he might not make it back every night this time - so many pumpkin-heads could easily be quite tiring. There was the possibility of injury to himself, also, though he didn't mention that to Julie.
Both Alex and Grant were to be with him, as pumpkin-heads were so unpredictable. Alex conjured the barrier as Harry had taught him, a flexible, transparent barrier. Harry's only contribution was a portion that was transparent to telepathy, something that needed his own skills. He put a time limit on it, as he still could not make spells that could be broken by other wizards. He planned to use it like a doorway, erecting and removing it as needed.
And then he started work. The first pumpkin-head was brought in and placed behind the barrier. Harry erected his portion, stood behind it, and started concentrating as normal. It was supposed to be almost transparent to telepathy. It wasn't working. Something was different. He stepped back, shaking his head, and finally said that he'd try another. The man was there, alive, and it should have been easy enough. He'd done a lot of these now. The only hard part was trying to keep them calm, but this time, it wasn't working.
The pumpkin-head was led out, and was sat in placid stupidity back in the waiting room, to a buzz of comment. Except when Harry declared a pumpkin-head dead, he was known always to succeed.
Another was brought in. Again, Harry tried. Again, there was unexpected difficulty.
This time, he raised his wand, vanished the barrier, held the man's hand, and worked harder. He had a fit of trembling, disrupting concentration.
"What's the matter?" asked Catherine.
Harry was still staring at the pumpkin-head. "I'm not quite sure. Maybe it's because they're muggles - maybe we really are more different than I've always thought."
The trembling died down, and Harry tried again, this time bringing forward a chair, sitting in front of the pumpkin-head, holding the hands of the monster, closing his eyes, and putting all his efforts into feeling the mind. It felt dense to him, different. He'd never realised, but muggles really were a bit different. They interbred easily enough with wizardry, though - they couldn't be that different.
The aurors glanced at each other, and came very close, wands raised. Harry was now in a very vulnerable position, having abandoned the barrier that he'd devised for the safety of all of them.
It took much longer than usual, but suddenly, finally, the monster turned back to a man, who straightaway slumped to the floor. Harry stared in consternation.
Catherine went to the fallen man, and a German mediwizard joined her.
"Is he all right?" asked Harry, anxiously.
"Just fainted, I think," said Catherine, calmly.
The ambulance team were called in, but Harry was still unhappy. "I don't think I should do any more until the first wakes."
"Why so worried, Harry?" asked Catherine. "Surely it's better than berserk!"
Harry was frowning. "They're different. I'm not sure if I've fixed him or wrecked him."
He leaned against the wall, looking into the distance. He wore a remote air and no-one spoke to him, although muttered consultations were going on in the waiting room. What was wrong with the great wizard today?
At last, he moved. "I'm just going to feel the others, not do anything yet," and he went, sat beside the first pumpkin-head, the one he had failed, and touched him, leaning back, closing his eyes, exploring. Then the other. He felt more confident now, the mind of the muggle becoming more clear to him.
Brad came in. "No word from the hospital yet, but they'll let us know."
Harry had looked up. Brad continued, calmly, organising. "What we're going to do is have lunch now, we're already late, and wait for news as Harry wants."
Harry nodded. He liked the way that Brad made decisions, calmly, sensibly. He was abstracted at lunch, and they left him alone. He remembered saying to some-one once that magic was just another talent, that wizards were only ordinary people with an extra talent. He was wrong. He supposed that Beth had known all along. Mugglekind and Wizardkind were different.
Word came at lunch-time that the man who'd been a pumpkin-head was awake, but as if tranquillised. Harry insisted on going to see him before proceeding. They were very much behind now, but, of course, he was given his way. No-one else could do this job. As far as any-one knew, no-one else had ever been able to do this job.
Back to work, and Harry again concentrated, first making an attempt with the barrier between, and then without. It took less time, but again the patient collapsed in a faint. Harry asked for progress reports, on the other one, too. He wanted to know when he became normally alert.
He proceeded with the others, no longer waiting. Each day that passed increased the risk of the person concealed in the vegetable becoming mad or dying.
None of these were dead, and each one was hard work. One after another, they collapsed in a faint, until Catherine suggested that they placed them on the ambulance trolley before he started work.
Word came back from the hospital. More pumpkin-heads were awake, each was as if tranquillised, but the first appeared perfectly normal again, although confused to find himself in a closed ward. They expected to send him home to his wife the following day. Harry was very relieved.
He was getting faster as he became used to the differences of the muggles, but they each took time, and he was relieved when Catherine called a break. They were going to be working very late today.
He was eating more than usual, Catherine noted quietly to herself, and also he'd had several episodes of trembling. He never commented on those, and Catherine suspected that he scarcely even noticed them these days.
Number fifteen. Slowly, they were getting through them. Brad suggested that some be put off to the following day as they were so much behind time, but Harry said no, that it was like they were already dying, very hard to pull back, and maybe impossible by the following day. He wanted to finish them that day, no matter if they worked very late.
Progress reports were coming regularly, and indicated good recovery by all the muggles rescued so far.
Number sixteen was different. They put him on the ambulance trolley as they'd been doing, Harry sat beside him as he was beginning to be very tired, and held the hand. It was always a bit easier if he was in physical contact, although he had seldom needed that aid in recent years. He felt the characteristic pattern of the muggle mind, felt the sodden deadness of the mind, as if he was already leaving life behind. It was so hard to penetrate, but eventually he found the trigger point that pulled the man from the monster. The man kicked out suddenly, catching Harry across the head, and knocking him to the floor. For the first time they had one who was struggling. But he was not berserk, as rescued wizards often went berserk, and he quickly fell into a more sluggish resistance before lying back, staring at the ceiling as if hypnotised.
Harry pulled himself to the wall and just sat. His head was spinning, and he was getting very tired. Still eight to go, and each one was difficult. Catherine came to him, wanting to check him out.
"Ten minute break," she said briefly, over her shoulder. She took the Niscos, noting that energy levels were way down. Harry was getting too tired. As Brad had done, she suggested that they put the rest back to the following day. But again Harry said no, and explained that the pumpkin-heads were in the process of dying, that even now, they seemed to be getting further and further away, harder to pull back.
"Cancel tomorrow morning's work, though, by all means, and I certainly won't be able to go home tonight."
Catherine nodded calmly, and went out to Brad, cancelled all patients for the following day, and put a few sandwiches from leftover afternoon tea on a plate for Harry. She'd noticed that even his weight was down. With Harry, it seemed to happen so quickly.
Brad sent a message to Julie, just that Harry would not be home that night.
More pumpkin-heads, and no other showed the life of Number sixteen. Each of them fainted, and according to reports, each of them revived, although as the day wore on, the reports were indicating longer periods of unconsciousness. Catherine thought that Harry was right, that they were in the process of dying, and no longer tried to press him to stop. He was trembling almost continuously now, depending on his cane, and sitting as he worked, irrespective of the risks of flailing legs or fists.
He cured another, again taking a long time, and waited for the next. His head was buzzing, and he didn't notice Brad watching him closely from the door.
Catherine was by his side, taking his hand. Her voice took a while to penetrate. "That's the last, Harry. You're finished."
Harry looked up, "Finished?"
Catherine said again, "Finished!"
"Thank God!" said Harry, starting to get up, but staggering, in spite of his cane.
Grant walked close to his side, as they returned to their accommodation, not far away. Instead of a muggle hotel, this time they were in a private home, the home of the German Minister. Other security measures included a very large guard of German aurors, as well as the seven English aurors who had come over with Harry.
Dinner had been put back, and the cook had been getting more and more out of temper as his carefully prepared dishes waited, congealing. Harry was very hungry, and a quiet word ensured that the planned formalities were dropped.
The German Minister was watching him, not impressed. He had been very slow, inefficient, Bierlitz thought, and now he was trembling and kept dropping his food.
His silent criticism made Harry look up, put down his knife and fork, and rise from the table, excusing himself politely, but clinging to the back of his chair as his head swam.
Grant rose, too, and Catherine. Harry made no objection, though neither had finished their meal. His head was swimming, and he didn't even know where they'd put him.
Grant firmly took his arm, and a polite German servant indicated that they should follow him. So this was the great wizard, the servant was thinking. The great wizard stumbled over tired feet, ably supported by burly Grant.
Harry had been allotted the best guest bedroom the mansion had to offer, a large room, with its own bathroom and toilet. They sat him in a chair, still trembling, and Catherine had a quick word with the servant. Harry was looking longingly at the bed, but he was still so hungry, as well.
Catherine returned with her monitoring equipment at the same time as the expressionless servant returned with a tray of sandwiches, easier for trembling hands to manage.
Harry half grinned at Catherine, shame-faced, "Thanks."
Catherine just sat, letting him eat, as Grant stood back against the wall. A loud stomach rumble drew Harry's attention to him.
"Sorry," he said, "Sandwich?"
Grant declined, saying that he'd no doubt get something after.
Harry's trembling diminished after the meal. Catherine did her measurements, appalled to find how much he'd drained himself, thinking that he'd take days or even weeks to recover. But she only left Grant with him in case he needed help, before reporting to Brad, and being served with another meal, as she, too, had largely missed dinner.
She'd persuaded Harry to consent to put on the wrist sensor that she knew he always kept with him, just in case he got into trouble, and she kept an eye on the red book/monitor. His normal watch, the one with the location device, was slipped off, forgotten, and left on the side table.
On the other wrist, to conceal the deep red mark of a rope injury, was another watch, one that showed local times of many countries, handy for someone who could be in another continent in an instant.
When Catherine checked the monitor after her meal, she could see that he was already very deeply asleep, also that the LV was beginning to rise again toward his normal, but that energy levels were still rock bottom.
Just as Nerrissa had planned when she had performed the pumpkin-head curse, again and again, Harry was no longer alert and potentially dangerous. He was still heavily guarded, with German and English aurors on watch in and around the mansion, and both Simon and Louis outside his door. Nerrissa had spent months thinking about the problem, planning. She knew exactly what she wanted now, and the Malfoys had always had the money to hire as much help as they wanted.
Their progress through the mansion was not without incident, and an English auror and a German one wound up as pumpkin-heads, sitting placidly in a large broom cupboard where they'd been put. There were several stunned, too. Nerrissa was a very powerful witch, and without conscience.
Kryall was at her side. She'd found him again, and again he was her devoted servant, enjoying the favours of his sister whenever Nerrissa felt so disposed. But Nerrissa knew what she wanted, and everything was prepared.
She put both of Harry's closest guards under the Imperius curse, and then inspected Simon more closely. He was so goodlooking, very blonde, and still looked about eighteen, even though he was closer to thirty. They took Simon with them, as well as Harry. Large, ungraceful Louis was just to stay in his chair, and, if questioned, say that Simon had just gone to the toilet and would be back in a minute.
Catherine checked on Harry about that time, using the so convenient monitor. She'd been doing that every hour, watching a quite rapid recovery in LV levels, and energy levels were beginning to rise, too, finally. She'd thought he was beginning to be closer to waking the last time she'd checked, but now he was deeply asleep again.
The monitor did not differentiate between natural sleep, and unconsciousness induced by drugs or by spells. There had been a precautionary stun spell used on the sleeping man, and then an injection of muggle drug to keep him asleep for several safe hours. It was a newly developed drug. Nerrissa was aware that he may have acquired a tolerance to muggle tranquilliser from his previous experience of being kidnapped.
In a hotel room, not far away, she had her fantasy come true. Here was the man she'd been obsessing over. He was unconscious, just as in the film. And he was beautiful. Nerrissa caressed the shoulders and chest, and her hands wandered down his body. He still wore silk sleeping shorts, and her hands touched genitals through the silk.
Simon watched from a corner, standing next to Kryall. Simon was filled with a wonderful feeling of unthinking happiness.
Kryall was filled with a feeling of sick jealousy, but when commanded, he took out the camera. Nerrissa wanted to relish this experience for the rest of her life, she would add it to her collection of film of Harry being abused.
Nerrissa was tall, slim, and pale blonde, with a face that looked Patrician in profile. Right now, though, the clearest impression that an observer would have had, was that of pure, unbridled lust.
She didn't remove the sleeping shorts at first, just explored the supine body in front of her. Strong thighs, muscular calves, she even played with feet, sniffing the slight foot odour with an odd pleasure. He'd been too tired to bother with a shower the previous night, and she sniffed him all over, in pleasure.
She inspected his face more closely then, running her fingers down the scar on his cheek, and touching the forehead scar with her tongue. And she kissed his mouth, pushing apart his lips, and dipping a tongue into the warmth of his mouth. She kissed him a long time, until the complete lack of response had her lose interest.
Instead, she got up onto the bed, sitting on his thighs, a leg to each side, and ran her hands over his chest again. Such a beautiful build. Drawing out the pleasure, she caressed very gently over the genitals to begin with, surprised and delighted at the quick response as his penis stirred beneath the silk. Maybe Mistress Annie's helping device would not be needed, but she'd brought it, so she would use it.
Still gentle, still slowly, she drew out her pleasure. He was in full erection by the time she vanished the sleeping shorts, and she caressed in admiration. She didn't know where the rumour had started about his size, and she had seen bigger, but it was well and truly enough to satisfy any woman.
She was licking now, but carefully, watching. It must not happen too soon. A condom was ready to use, and she rolled it onto the erect penis, leaving sufficient loose at the tip to collect what she wanted. A thin, stiff, but flexible tube was gently inserted into his anus, and switched on so that a small balloon inflated, and the probe began a gentle vibration. Guaranteed to induce orgasm, Annie had said.
With the vibration, and a warm tongue caressing the base of his penis, it didn't take long. Nerrissa carefully folded over and sealed the condom, used her wand to make a spell, and placed it carefully in her bag. Nerrissa had decided to have the baby of Harry Potter.
Kryall continued filming, it was what his sister wanted. Simon watched also, in a state of blissful acceptance. Nerrissa was very good at the Imperius spell.
Nerrissa was sitting back. The semen would be good indefinitely. But she wondered if she could do something more direct. She started caressing again. And then she moved a little back on the bed, and leaned forward, taking the now soft penis in her mouth. Not many men are able to perform again so quickly, except maybe for teenage boys. But before long, Nerrissa was working on a penis, again large and hard. She was good at this, and was taking most of it in her mouth, but suddenly thought that she must not risk wasting it.
Kryall was as fully aroused as Nerrissa, his own erection almost painful, but he continued to film as she wanted. Nerrissa had said that was what he was to do.
Nerrissa changed position, and straddled Harry's pelvis, holding and steering the hard penis into herself with a groan of pleasure. She had to do all the work, as Harry had made no conscious move since he had come under her control. But before long, he was again climaxing. Nerrissa worked the spell. She would almost certainly become pregnant now, by Harry, and totally without his consent. Maybe she'd use the stored semen for a second child, or maybe a friend would like a child by Harry Potter.
She smiled in satisfaction, and slipped off him. She was sticky with semen and with her own excited wetness, but she relished the feeling and didn't think of cleaning herself. She was still wearing her skimpy dress, but never wore pants, and she felt trickles down her inner thighs, with a feeling of sensuous satisfaction.
Back in her room, Catherine woke to the sound of her alarm. She was still checking on Harry every hour. This time, she frowned, and checked her notebook. Energy levels had declined again, and so had LV. He was still very deeply unconscious, surely more so than he should have been.
Catherine decided that she needed to have a closer look at him, but Louis refused her entry, and Simon was missing. And there was something a bit strange with the way Louis was behaving.
Catherine retreated cautiously, but a moment later, was rapping hard on Brad's door. Brad took one look at Louis. He'd seen that look before. Louis was not himself, but Brad knew what to do. The Curse was taken off, and Louis shook his head, confused, and made no further hindrance to their entry.
Brad swore, seeing the empty bed, and after a quick check in the bathroom, went shouting to raise the alarm. Catherine called after him, "He's alive, and within a few miles!" The monitor had a range of about three miles, Hermione had told her.
Nerrissa still had Harry, naked on the bed. She stood by the side of the bed, and caressed his body again - possessively, leaning down for a moment, and gently biting a nipple. Mistress Annie had told her that men liked having their nipples bitten, although that had not been her experience.
What could she do with him now? She looked at the observers, noting the clear outline of an erection under the clothing of Kryall. She liked him like this, acutely aroused, and kept frustrated. But she gave instructions - she knew what she wanted now, and Simon, on her bidding, came and helped roll Harry onto his face, before resuming his place at the wall.
Nerrissa touched the controls of the device inserted into his anus, switched off the vibration, deflated the balloon, and pulled it out, wrapping it carefully in an expensive silk handkerchief, and putting it in her bag with the packaged semen. It was a souvenir. It had been inside his body.
She caressed his back. God, how she loved a man's broad shoulders. His bottom, too. Cute, like that of a youth. She looked at Kryall, and pointed. "Make love to him, the way a man does to a man."
Kryall backed away, and almost for the first time in his life, defied her. "No way, you know what he did to those others!"
Nerrissa had to acknowledge that was a good point. And she looked at Harry's friend, the blonde, goodlooking auror, whom they'd brought back with no specific plans for his use.
It was harder than she thought. There was no good just instructing him in what she wanted, as he was showing no signs of any arousal at all. Instead, she went to him, as Kryall still filmed, and she ran her hand over the outside of his clothing, and murmured to him about how desirable was the body of Harry, and how he would love to be inside that body. That she'd heard that the aurors all liked Harry, that Harry needed to be made love to.
She was getting her way, Simon had developed an erection and was looking at the prone body of his friend with desire.
On a sudden thought, Nerrissa took a knife, tilted Harry's body to the side a little, and dug the knife into the groin as she had seen on the film. Harry started to bleed, profusely. But it was not spurting. She had not pierced the femoral artery. She let him fall prone again, but blood was beginning to soak the sheets and mattress underneath him. Simon had not seen. Her body had obscured his vision, and Simon was still not making any move except under instruction.
Nerrissa pulled apart Harry's legs, so that Simon could kneel between. Nerrissa was still talking to Simon. How wonderfully desirable were those muscular shoulders, how gorgeously lean his flanks, how cute the bottom. How Simon couldn't wait to make love to him. And Simon felt an overpowering sexual excitement just as Nerrissa said he should, and did as she said, kneeling between his legs, and trying to push his own hard penis into the anus of his friend, but finding it difficult.
Nerrissa said wait, and went to help. She parted Harry's buttocks with tender hands, and licked around the anus, moistening, and making slippery. Her tongue was delving inside, too, persuading tight muscles to relax a little. She worked on him for a while, and then turned to Simon, taking his penis into her mouth, so that both surfaces would be slippery, so that Simon could penetrate Harry, as she watched. Kryall still filmed.
Catherine was watching the monitor in alarm. She was with Brad, and called to him that somehow they had to find him. The readings looked worse and worse. Somewhere, not far away, Harry was dying in his sleep.
The delay had given Simon a reprieve, and in spite of the wonderful feeling of a woman's mouth around his penis, he was beginning to fight the Imperius Curse. This was a horrible thing. Harry would hate it, not love it as he was told. Simon's own wife might never forgive him if he did such a thing.
Abruptly he broke free from the curse, whacked Nerrissa hard across the side of her head, and bounded from the bed. He still had his wand, as Nerrissa had quite enjoyed having an armed auror standing helpless. He whipped it out, and tried to stun them both, and probably would have succeeded if he hadn't tripped over his sagging trousers, and missed.
Kryall cried out in alarm, and disapparated, dropping the camera. Nerrissa hesitated a moment, but she had what she wanted, delayed only an instant to pick up the bag containing a carefully folded and sealed condom and a sex aid, and she, too, disapparated.
Back at the home of Bierlitz, several aurors and a few servants who had been stunned, were being found and revived. Two pumpkin-heads stood grotesque, side by side in the sitting room, now the centre of an organised operation. Only Simon was still unaccounted for, not counting Harry, the obvious target. Catherine still watched the monitor. If Harry was lost, so were the two aurors, and one was Alex.
Simon was confused. His memory was blurred, but there was no doubt that his trousers were around his knees, and when he looked back at Harry, there was a residual tingling of desire. He knew what he had almost done, and there was memory of other things that had been done to Harry, although flavoured with an odd feeling of distant contentment.
With shaking hands, he readjusted his clothing, and suddenly he pointed his wand at the camera, and it became ashes on the floor. Poor Simon felt sick, and he felt even more sick when he again felt a sudden temptation. Harry really did have a beautiful body.
But he remembered he was an auror, and he was Harry's bodyguard. His duty was to be in control, and to look after his charge. But he was not going to tell anyone what had happened - ever. They'd just been taken prisoner, he didn't know why. There had been no sex, of course not. And probably Harry always slept naked. They'd only been away a couple of hours, not much would have happened in that time.
Carefully, gently, Simon turned Harry over, appalled now to see the great pool of blood beneath the body. And he still bled. There was no residual desire left now, just anxiety for his friend, and the responsibility of a bodyguard to his charge. Simon was no bigger than Harry, but aurors had to be fit and strong, and he lifted Harry in his arms, and apparated into the corridor outside Harry's bedroom.
He was seen immediately, as he carried the inert body of Harry into the bedroom, leaving a trail of blood as he went. The word went out for Catherine, and for Brad. Catherine soon stopped the bleeding, and healed the untidy wound, and Simon was given a thorough grilling by Brad. He told no-one the whole story. He was especially not planning on telling Harry.
***chapter end***