A/N: CHap 13 review responses are on my forums as always. And now, a warning:

This chapter is not particularly violent, and there are no deaths in this chapter. And yet, it is one of the most evil things I've posted on fanfiction. This and the next chapter are evil chapters for a very good reason. Several reviewers have made the mistake of thinking that because an evil thing fights against an evil system, that makes the evil thing somehow less evil. That is simply not true. But the truest evil is the one that can smile brightest, with the most loving promises, while consuming your soul.

Warning for a sex scene as well. I believe the scene adheres to the requirements of an M rating, but be warned in any event.

Chapter Fourteen: The Last Temptation of Harry Potter

On the morning of the second Saturday in May, two weeks after the Gryffindors managed to hold off a powerful Ravenclaw team by a single goal, the whole school buzzed with excitement about the championship game between the dominant Slytherins, who won every game in the first round and all but one in the second, and Gryffindor, who lost all their games in their first round, but somehow won their second round games.

Charity Burbage was excited not for Gryffindor, but for Harry Potter. She had watched over the course of the year as the battered, abused child blossomed into the very boy she hoped he would be—a leader among his peers and a star at the school. Her weekly tea with the boy had given him his first maternal figure, and Charity would be lying to herself if she did not admit the attachment went both ways.

She was, in the way any mother would feel, in love with the child. He was everything she had been led to believe he could be.

She was finishing up some grading the morning of the game when she heard a knock at the door. Given that she was unable to cast wards or attune them to her magic, she was particularly insistent that anyone entering her classroom knock. However, given their recent weekend teas, she could tell just from the tone of the knock who it was.

"Quirinus!" she said, looking up with a warm smile. "I wasn't expecting you until before the game!"

Quirinus Quirrell cast his charming, debonair smile at her like a spell as he walked into her room. "Well, I found myself in the neighbourhood." Then, with a chuckle, he amended, "Actually I'm lying. I've been planning to talk to you for quite some time, but found myself hesitating repeatedly despite our teas together."

"Oh?" she said with one arched brow.

He nodded, and suddenly his smile faltered. "I know there's been a lot of whispering about what happened during my sabbatical last year."

"Well, some were curious, but I didn't want to pry. I figured you would tell me if you wanted."

He nodded and looked at her with a particularly sad smile. "I do want to. I have wanted to for some months now, since I saw how wonderful you were to young Mr Potter, but it has been difficult for me."

He sat down at the chair by her desk that Harry most often occupied. "I…I lost my family, Charity. We were studying a nest of Vampires in the southern forests of Bulgaria when we were attacked. You know that Bulgaria does not regulate or license their vampires, and we learned first-hand what that meant. Aqualia died first. They snapped her neck fast—I like to think she did not suffer. But Delilah…"

Charity had known Quirinus for four years—never in all that time had she seen him demonstrate anything other than calm confidence. Now, though, his voice broke and he closed his eyes. "They took our children next," he finally said. "Timothy screamed for us. He was calling for 'Daddy' but they had my wand. I couldn't do anything. And Charlize and Dramione screamed and…" He stopped and closed his eyes, a single tear beading at the corner of his eyes.

Charity had her hands over her mouth, her own eyes watering. She didn't know his family personally, but had met them. "Oh Quirinus," she whispered. "Oh Merlin, I'm so sorry! How did you…?"

"That's the worst of it," Quirinus said bitterly. "They let me go. The monsters just let me go. They killed my entire family and made me watch, then let me go."

"What did you do?"

He looked her in the face and said, "I killed them. I destroyed the entire nest and another two more besides. When I came back, I…I considered taking Draught of Living Death, especially after my Dame demanded I remarry immediately. Couldn't have an un-bonded wizard carrying about now, could we? But Albus convinced me to try to find some reason to go on with the Defence post, and convinced my Dame I needed some time to recover. She gave me a year. And what a year—it has been the worst year of my life, trying to live after losing so much."

She could not help but reach out and take the hand he had flat on her desk. "I'm so very sorry, Quirinus."

He looked back at her intently. "But, you see, mid-way through the year I discovered a reason to keep going. And now…now I find myself in a unique position, Charity, and I hope you will consider my next words carefully. I must bond again, but having done so and had children already in my mind gives me a freedom I never had before. And I must admit, I am lonely—a crushing loneliness I never thought I would experience."

"Magical beings were never meant to be alone," Charity said her heart thudding in her chest as her mind began to race.

"No, they weren't. You're alone too, aren't you, Charity?"

"Because I'm only a squib," she said in a small voice.

He leaned forward until his dark, burning eyes were only inches from hers. "Magic burns in your heart, just like mine," he said. "It is a quirk of genetics that you can't access it, but it's there. Any children you bear would be magical, and you are beautiful, Charity. So very beautiful. I no longer need to abide by the expectations of others, only my own desire. And I desire you, Charity Burbage."

He pulled his hand out form hers, and placed it on top of her now trembling hand. "Quirinus, I…you'll be a subject of ridicule, we both will," she said.

"I destroyed three nests of Vampires single-handed," he said firmly. "I previously bonded with two pureblooded witches and produced three children. No one will ever question my right to bond with whom I will. And I will have no other, just you."

She could feel his magic seeping into her hand, cool and strong. He was a Slytherin, while of course she never attended Hogwarts at all being a Squib. "Why me?" she finally asked.

He leaned closer, the burning in his eyes now piercing her with intent and magic. "Because of your kindness and your strength. Because I've watched how you became a mother figure for the Potter boy and truly made him better for it. If you could do so much as a teacher, what wonders could you do with children of your own? I truly want to find out, if you say yes."

The air crackled with magic, and the feel of it washed over Charity like firewhiskey. Never before in her thirty six years had any wizard extended his magic into her like Quirrell was doing now, and the feeling of it was more than intoxicating. Despite everything, she had hoped and fantasized that he liked her through their afternoon teas together. She felt her body responding, as well as the caged, damaged core of her own magic.

"Quirinus, you must know that…I've never been with a man. I…"

He reached out a hand and placed it over her left breast, exactly where Harry did. His touch was not soothing like Harry's, though. It was at once cold and hot, exhilarating and powerful. A surge of hormones and magic rushed through her system, and with shock she felt moisture gathering between her legs while her face flushed.

"I know what to do, if you but say yes." His voice was strong, his face angular with hard planes. He was in truth a beautiful man and a powerful wizard. For him to even consider her…for her to even have this opportunity…

"Yes," she breathed.

His wand was a blur as he cast privacy wards around the room. She could barely breathe before he vanished her clothes, leaving her naked for the first time before another. He looked on her body hungrily, and it was an act of will for her not to try and cover herself.

"You are beautiful," he breathed. He vanished his own clothes, and she stared at his lean, muscular body with another surge of hormones. He was already powerfully erect.

"Quirinus," she whispered.

He moved closer, pressing his body against her. "Yes, my love?"

"Are you sure?"

He slid home within her body; the shock of it stole her breath. There was only a mild discomfort, not pain. Her hymen was gone long since just from the rigors of life and maturity. She looked up into his burning eyes as his magic washed throbbing through her with every incredible, astonishing thrust. In his eyes, she felt his magic reaching for her, and for the first time she felt her own magic reaching out in response, in this one case not restrained by her disability.

He moved faster now as their magic merged in a spill of energy and emotion, and for that one moment the world was perfect. The climax came like a storm cloud, thundering inside her head as he finished at the same time, grunting at the release of his seed and magic within her body.

The bond was formed—they were for all intents and purposes married.

He smiled at her then and pulled out. "That was lovely, my dear," he said. For some reason his voice sounded different—higher pitched and reedy.

"Quirinus?"

"Oh, he's not here right now," he said, still in that high-pitched whine. "After all, one cannot torture or kill a bonded mate. But he is a faithful servant. I promised him another woman for the sacrifice of his family, and you served the role well."

The magic of the bonding turned to an icy ball of fear. "I don't understand," she said.

He smiled again, only there was no kindness or humour in the expression as his burning brown eyes turned suddenly black. "Nor would I expect you to. After all, you're only a squib." A flash of red light, and Charity Burbage knew nothing else.

~~Firebird~~

~~Firebird~~

Flint and Wood stared at each other with mirrored expressions of hatred. The larger team hovered threateningly around their captain, while the smaller, younger Gryffindors gripped their brooms nervously.

Professor Hooch stepped onto the pitch with the kit of Quidditch Balls, and without a word released the Snitch. Harry watched it rise intently, keeping his eyes fixed on it until the shimmer disappeared. However, he continued to look intently at a spot just over Flint's eyes, and many of the Slytherins turned on their brooms to look where Harry was looking.

The Bludger went next, and then finally the Quaffle.

Harry shot off while the Quaffle was still in the air. "Stop him!" Flint screamed.

Before Harry had gone even three feet he flipped his broom, using the straw to hit the Quaffle into Angelina's hands, and then dove straight down. The Slytherins, operating on Flint's orders, followed him like an army, and with the opposing team completely out of position, Gryffindor scored the first goal.

What followed was the hardest fought game of the young Gryffindors' lives. That wasn't to say their first game against Slytherin wasn't bad, but they were like lambs to the slaughter. This time, they came into the game prepared to fight. By the first time out, every single one of them sported a bruise or cut, and Katie whimpered with a likely broken foot where the Bludger had clipped her. And yet, for all their wounds, they only trailed behind by twenty points, and the Slytherins were beat up as well.

And it was largely because of Harry. He had taken on the role of guardian angel, watching the backs of his chasers or beaters whenever a Slytherin player tried to blind-side them. Twice he dove inches from the Slytherin players, disrupting their attacks, and twice actually clipped them with his hard, iron tipped boots, transfigured for this game especially by Wood.

"I couldn't be more proud," Wood said, eyes glistening with the pride he spoke of. "We are Lions!"

"We are Lions!" the others cheered.

After another hour of play, Harry realized that his team simply could not last much longer. Angelina was flying with a bone bruise on her thigh where a Bludger hit, and Wood had a black eye where Flint had fouled him on a play. They were only thirty points down, but much longer and the gap would get larger than the Snitch could make up for.

He began scanning the air intently, hoping for something to give a hint of where the Snitch would be. He finally saw it hovering a foot underneath the centre Slytherin goal, almost within sight of the Snake's Keeper, and just a few dozen yards from the opposing Seeker.

He fell in with the Chasers, acting as their guardian as he had been doing the entire game, while trying to keep the hovering Snitch in view. The opposing keeper moved out from the goals a foot or two to better position himself to block the Gryffindors' attack, while Fred and George tried valiantly to fight off the Slytherin beaters.

Katie passed to Angelina moments before Flint personally collided with her, his shoulder tucked down. She didn't even make a sound, just grunted as she flew backward off her broom. Harry spun away from the attack with a yell and caught Flint in the face with his boot, sending the Slytherin captain tumbling off his broom within feet of Katie. The other Slytherins converged angrily on Harry while Angelina took the shot and scored. The keeper went to retrieve the Quaffle, and in that moment Harry struck.

He dove behind the angry Chasers, looped between the Beaters causing one to actually knock the other out with the Bludger, and dove at an angle for the Snitch. Because it was right up against the goal post, it did not have full direction and instead tried dropping down.

Harry barrel-rolled, extended his right hand down, and snatched it out of the air with a triumphant shout. The gong sounded and he looked up just to make sure. It confirmed Gryffindor 130 Slytherin 100.

~~Elemental~~

~~Elemental~~

Professor McGonagall was so happy she personally ordered two whole barrels of butterbeer. The mildly alcoholic drink was Harry's first introduction to wizarding alcohol, and after two glasses he felt a happy, slightly numbing buzz.

Around him, the older students laughed and sang songs while drinking butterbeer, or for the seventh years, firewhiskey. McGonagall attended the party personally, hence the special permission for Harry, the hero of the hour, to attend.

It was fun watching the older students dance around each other, and more fun to pick out who had bonded already and who hadn't. Elfaba, the Head Girl, was staring deeply into the eyes of another seventh year, and he could see their magic tentatively reaching out, like two wisps of white light. It was beautiful, really, and he hoped for her sake that the boy was a good one.

He saw Georgina holding Angelina down while Fred tickled her relentlessly, while Lee hovered nearby laughing with a butterbeer in his hand. On the far couch, a pair of sixth years were snogging passionately, their own magic also reaching out for each other until a well-aimed spell from McGonagall separated them. Harry tried not to laugh at their forlorn expressions.

He did see one couple who had already very clearly bonded—sixth years. She was sitting on his lap, arms draped around his shoulders, while talking happily with another pair of sixth year girls. Their magic blended into each other, the hotter white of his fire causing the softer orange glow of hers to heat up.

"That's nice," Harry whispered aloud.

"What's that?" McGonagall asked, having to almost shout over the din.

Harry pointed at the couple. "I hope they're happy."

McGonagall's eyes narrowed. "Bonded?"

Harry nodded.

"Hmm, I'll have to inform their parents. I had high hopes Mr Derricks would last longer than that."

Suddenly McGonagall stood, as if hearing something none of the rest could hear, before she returned and tapped Harry on the shoulder. "Mr Potter, Professor Quirrell is here to escort you to Professor Burbage. She asked to see you. I know you've had a few butterbeers, but I expect you to be on your best behaviour."

"Yes, Professssor," he said, slurring slightly. He climbed to his feet before sitting down abruptly.

"Do you need help, Potter?" she asked with one raised brow.

"Little dizzy," he admitted.

McGonagall herself stood before taking his hand and helping him to his feet. "Come along, Mr Potter." With her hand on his shoulder she escorted him to the portrait of the Fat Lady that guarded the tower. Just on the other side was the most terrifying thing Harry had ever seen.

The man had a ghost inside him! Veins of cold blue magic seemed to overlay the man's own weakened blue-brown magic, like a picture drawn on glass and laid over another picture. The man's eyes were brown, but with a shadow of black hiding the strange blue magic. "There's a ghost inside you!" he blurted.

The man quirked his lips. "You let him have some butterbeer after all, did you Minerva?"

"A little butterbeer never hurt anyone, Professor Quirrell," she said primly. "And given that Mr Potter is the primary responsible party in Gryffindor winning the Quidditch Cup this year, it seemed rather inappropriate not to let him partake in at least some of the festivities."

"Professor, there's a ghost in that man!" Harry stammered again, pointing.

"Actually, that's my veil," the man said with a smile. "I chose a veil with a different appearance for security reasons. Most former Aurors do."

"That's true enough," said McGonagall. "Alastor Moody's veil actually makes the man look almost human. Go on now, Mr Potter. I'm sure Professor Burbage will see you back safely."

Terrified, but unable to convince McGonagall that there was a ghost inside Professor Quirrell, Harry felt himself pushed forward by one professor and taken in hand by the other. Quirrell's touch felt cold and slimy, and he could both see and field the blue tendrils of magic touching his shoulder and making him shiver.

"Don't worry, boy," Quirrell said with a wry smile, "you'll understand soon enough. In fact, this might be the best day of your life. I have an offer for you. Come with me."

Harry didn't understand why they went to the second floor girls' bathroom, nor why the sink in the middle was gone, replaced instead by what looked like a spiral staircase. "Where are we going, sir?" he asked timidly.

"To one of the great secrets of the castle," he said. "Did you know that Salazar Slytherin managed to breed a basilisk? Magnificent creature. Dead now, more's the pity, but its skeleton still lies in its chamber. Come, see."

With Quirrell's hand insistently guiding him, Harry walked down the spiral staircase into a gloomy, poorly lit cave littered with ancient bones and slick muck. Quirrell guided him through several caves until they came to a large metal door. "Harry," Quirrell said, "behind this door lies your future. Open."

The way he said the word sounded different to Harry, but understandable enough. The ancient door swung open, and on the other…Harry momentarily lost the ability to breathe.

It was a house, a real country cottage with a slate roof and large windows. A bubbling brook ran by the house, while it held a front garden of luxurious green grass and shrubberies. Charity Burbage stood on the covered front porch of the cottage, smiling happily at him. Instead of black professor's robes, she wore a flattering blue dress with a modest neckline.

"What is this, sir?" Harry breathed.

"A glimpse of your future, if you want it," Quirrell said. "Come along."

They stepped through the gate into this strange world. Overhead, gentle clouds floated in a perfect blue sky, though he saw no hint of the sun. Birds chirped, but he could not see any. He saw a line of trees behind the house, but they looked blurred and indistinct. What was real, though, was Charity Burbage.

Quirrell released Harry and walked to Burbage's side. "Harry, Charity and I have bonded. You can see the bond, can't you?"

And indeed, now that they were together, he could. It was a thin white bond of magic connecting Quirrell's core and Charity's. "But…when…"

"Harry," Charity said brightly, "you must understand what an honour and opportunity it was for Quirinus to even propose. After all, I'm a squib, while he is a powerful wizard. I was happy to accept the bond—we are to be married."

"And after we're married, Harry," Quirrell said, "Charity and I would like to offer our home to you."

"I know the Dursleys did not give you the home you deserve," she said, "but Quirinus and I would. I love you so much, Harry, that I would like to be your new mother, and I would like you to be my son.'

Harry folded down to the thick grass as his knees gave out. "You want to be my mum?" he squeaked.

"Oh yes, Harry!" she said, rushing out onto the grass herself to embrace him. "I love you so much." She crushed his head to her bosom, and for the first time Harry felt something different about her magic from the first time he touched her. She leaned back and he saw a thin ring of grey around her pupils.

It looked just like when Seamus tore up his mum's book.

"Before we can make you our son, though, you have to do us a favour," she whispered conspiratorially. "Quirinus is sick. He probably told you about his veil, didn't he? It's not, of course. He was hurt during his sabbatical, and has that pesky poltergeist tied to him."

"A ghost," Harry whispered.

"Yes. A pest, really, perfectly harmless."

"But it's inside him, I can see it," Harry said. "And it did something to you too."

"I'm fine, Harry, love," she assured him. "The favour, Harry. Before we can adopt you, we need you to cure Quirinus. It's something only you can do. A power only you, and your mum before you, even have. You showed us, when you hurt Seamus Finnigan."

Harry leaned back from her, and then crab walked a foot away. "What do you mean?"

"My soul has been infected, Harry," Quirinus said, speaking gently as he came and knelt down beside Charity. "This poltergeist is infecting my very soul. The healers at St. Mungo's said only a visual/tactile aether had any hope of curing it. It's a rare combination, my boy. Most aethers are one or the other, but like your mother, you have both. I need you to remember what you did to Seamus and do the same to me."

"But I hurt Seamus," Harry whispered.

"You damaged his magical core, and by extension his soul," Quirinus said. "But just like Muggle doctors have to cut out cancer, I need you to use that same power to cut out this poltergeist, so that I can get better, and be the husband and father I so wish to be."

"Think about it, Harry," Charity said. "We could be together, a real family. I could take you shopping with me on market days, and we could have ice cream and go to the theatre and amusement parks. I've always wanted a son, Harry. Please do say yes."

Harry wiped his eyes with shaking hands. "And this place?"

"This is what my home in Cornwall looks like," Quirrell said. "And it would be your home as well. There are plenty of other children to play with, I assure you. Please, son, be a brave little Gryffindor and help save me. Save me, so that I can save you."

"Please save your father, Harry," Charity begged.

"My…"

"I will be your father," Quirrell promised earnestly. It was so odd to see the man kneeling down and begging him, while that cold blue echo of magic shivered inside him. "And you will be my son. And we'll give you a baby sister to love and take care of. You always wanted to be a big brother, didn't you Harry?"

Shell-shocked by everything happening, Harry nodded numbly. "I would be a good big brother," he admitted in a thin voice made shaky by emotion. "I don't understand what's happening, though."

Charity took his hand and pulled it to her chest in a familiar gesture. Harry was stunned by the absence of the brassier, and felt soft, malleable flesh under his fingers, and just under that the warmth of her magic.

"I will be your mum, Harry," she whispered. "I will be yours to love. Quirinus will never begrudge us, never. Don't you want me to be yours, Harry? To love you absolutely?"

Harry could only nod.

"Then will you help save my bond-mate, Harry? Please?"

Harry shivered violently and wiped his eyes and nose on the back of his sleeve. "Okay."

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Author's Note: Very special thanks as always to Teufel1987, JR and Miles for beta reading.