As a reminder, you can find MORE of this on my SubStar (dot adult slash KajaWilder), it's posted up past chapter 50 there... And if you guys haven't seen an update in at least a week, please let me know! I have a busy life, and I get distracted and forget things. This story(as well as ZpoW and PTaL) are supposed to be updated WEEKLY!

And if you're just interested in discussing things with other readers, of course, you can go to my DISCORD here: h- t_ t_ p-s -: -/ -/ -discord . g-g / N9yDA8t6Cw (taking out hyphens, underscores, and spaces of course).

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Not kidding. Major character death in this chapter. Some of you (female, mostly? I donno your life) might not like who it is. Trust me, in FwB the character gets what's coming to them. Related mentions of non-con and of course violence. Someone does the unaliving, after all.

Chap. 75: Interlude

The night before Harry, Lilith, and Dumbledore went on their excursion to Little Hangleton, two young witches were reading in their shared bedroom. It had been a tense day, especially in the afternoon. A friend of their friends' had been attacked by former friends, and it had not gone well. Violence had been done, and both girls suspected that on this very night, more would be done still. But it was not for them to stop it, if they even wanted to. Neither did, in this case. Which just meant that the two young women were not, perhaps, as deep into their respective books as they might hope.

"Tracey...?"

The petite brunette looked up and over her shoulder at the blonde witch, whose breasts (such beautiful breasts!) she was using as a pillow, taking only a moment to mark the page in her book she had been reading with a finger. "Yes, Daphne?"

"Did you mean... what you said?"

"About what, my love?" the shorter girl replied, puzzled. They talked a lot, after all. "I generally do."

"About.. about Harry."

That clarification only made the taciturn younger girl grimace, "You'll have to be more specific, I am afraid. We have talked about Harry quite a lot in the last couple of months. I've said a lot about him."

"T- That night. When... when R- Weasley got his Runes. The second set, I suppose."

"Ah," she fell silent for a few minutes, and for a little while Daphne thought her girlfriend had gone back to reading, though her body was not moving in the quiet, subtle ways she had become so intimately familiar with over the years they had been together, first as friends, then lovers. Eventually, she asked, "About... my body's use? It being only for your use and his?"

Daphne nodded. It was a subtle gesture, one that, were they in the Slytherin Common Room, might have gone unnoticed even by the most observant members of their House. In the privacy of their own room in Harry's quarters, it seemed unnecessary, but Tracey didn't blame her girlfriend. If anything, the miniscule movement only proved to show how nervous the blonde was about asking. "You should know I prefer honesty when possible," the smaller witch eventually explained, taking a moment to set her book aside (bookmark carefully placed, of course) and rest her hands over Daphne's, it in turn splayed over Tracey's flat stomach. "I know I once promised differently..."

"You said you were for me," Daphne murmured.

Tracey nodded, and turned her head once more to kiss the blonde's jaw, "And that is true. I am for you. I am also for Harry Potter."

"Apparently so," Daphne murmured, "Whatever that means."

"If I knew, know that I would tell you. I only know when the words come to me. I... I believe it means that I am a gift, intended for you."

"And now for Harry?"

"And possibly Lilith," Tracey agreed, "though that remains to be seen. I do not know if... if I speak prophecy, or they are the mad ramblings of an over-emotional teenage girl who does not know how to handle those emotions. All that I know is that, as I speak them, they feel right."

"I see," said Daphne quietly, though she clearly did not understand any better than her girlfriend did. How could she? "Then... you will... be with him often?"

Tracey nodded, and her hands around Daphne's tightened, "I love him. As- To the same degree I love you. It is strange, I barely know him, and yet I feel my magic, my soul, sing for him, as it does for you. We are bonded as closely."

"If... if you are that close," Daphne whispered, her voice trembling, "I... I can step aside."

"No!" The shout made them both jump, Tracey perhaps more than even the girl she leaned against, "No, that... that is not what I want. It is not what Harry wants. I love you, Daphne."

"But you love him," came the returning whisper, clearly on the point of tears, "and if it is that intense after so short a time, when we had so long..."

"You are comparing different things, and on a different scale, my love," Tracey reminded her calmly. "When we were children, we had the love of children. Now that we are nearing adulthood, our feelings have matured. It is for that reason, as much as any other, I feel that I am as close to Harry. I am able to feel as I do now, thus I do feel as I do now, only for two rather than one. As a child, I could not even feel the way that I feel now about you, much less the both. My love for him does not lessen my love for you."

"Nor I," Daphne said after several long seconds.

Tracey nodded, "Then you... as well?"

There was a nod from behind her, "Yes."

"We will bear sister-children with him," Tracey announced after a couple more minutes of quiet contemplation, "My wife and my husband will raise them together with me, side by side."

"I suppose we shall," Daphne hiccupped, "I only..."

"I know," Tracey picked up, then leaned up a little to kiss Daphne's tender, tear-stained lips, "You worry that I will one day love him more. I cannot, no more than you could. And as for the Succubus... I desire her out of lust alone. I could be her friend, but I will never truly be her lover in the way I love you and Harry."

"She is rather ravishing," the blonde agreed.

"Speaking of ravishing," Tracey replied, "I find myself in need of one, if only to reassure my dear, beloved girlfriend how much she means to me. Would you like that, beloved girlfriend?"

"I think... I think I would like that very much," Daphne murmured, then set aside her own long-ignored book.

"Good. In that case, my love, I'd like to remind you also that your delightful body belongs to me, too."

Daphne moaned as her petite girlfriend shifted a bit further, turning far enough to press her lips and then teeth into the blonde's clavicle. Tracey wasted no time in suckling and nipping, drawing out what would no doubt prove to be a large, dark-colored hickey. "Tracey, that's not fair," Daphne whimpered as her girlfriend went lower and inward, pressing her lips again and again to the soft, tender flesh between collar and the top of her firm, perky tits. "I want to kiss you, too..."

"My lover feels unneeded," Tracey murmured against her skin, "So I feel obligated to show her how much I do need her. Lay still, my love, and relax. Let me do this for you."

"You're so mean..."

Tracey only smiled against her, and continued kissing while her hand started to roam. Those who knew them in Slytherin would have been shocked by what they saw in the bedroom. Not so much the display of affection between two witches. Even among the pureblood elite, it was an open secret that many witches enjoyed the company of other witches, if only to spare themselves the never-ending tension of husbands who could not or would not satisfy them properly. No, it was the words being said, and the clear signs of who, exactly, was in charge.

Daphne Greengrass was outwardly the dominant one, and she was known as the Ice Queen of Slytherin for a very, very good reason. Even Harry had backed down from her once or twice, and he hated seeming weak in front of others. Tracey Davis, who was taciturn at best and shy enough to be considered antisocial by most, barely talked to anyone in public. She would respond to a teacher's question, or speak with Daphne in quiet tones out in the corridors or at meals, but even among their friends, she didn't speak often. In front of strangers, she barely said a word, preferring to let her blonde friend, or even Pansy, do the talking for her.

But here, in private, just her and her lover, Tracey felt no need to be cautious. She had been Daphne's lover and girlfriend for years now, and knew exactly where they stood. Equals in all respects. Where one was weak, the other was strong. It was a perfect match in so many ways, and if she were open about her feelings, Tracey would have admitted to being just as terrified as Daphne was about adding a third person like Harry, no matter how wonderful he was, to the careful balance of their relationship. Still, with just them, however...

Tracey had no problem speaking her mind, or taking the lead. There was no need for secrecy, or hiding her strength behind the larger and (presumably, though they both knew better) more magically powerful pureblood. Between them, there was only openness, and equality. Daphne was feeling vulnerable, so Tracey happily stepped up to show her that, even if she was, her lover would take care of her. Would shore her up, strengthen her weaknesses, as always.

So she kissed and nibbled, her small hands roaming and caressing both over and just inside her lover's Acromantula-silk nightshirt, sliding up and down the blonde's thighs, to her perfect slender waist, or to grip her hips, or her even buttocks, all while kissing lower and lower, back and forth, until eventually Tracey's lips closed around the hem of Daphne's shirt and pulled it open, baring one breast to the cool dorm air.

Her nipple was already hard, and Tracey only wasted a moment to look up at her lover saucily, "This is how much I need you... quite as much as you need me. Do not fear me ever, ever leaving you behind, my love," then she leaned in and nibbled the pink bud, too.

Daphne gasped at the contact, one hand reflexively holding Tracey closer at the back of her head, while the other came up to pull the petite girl against her body, holding her closer at the waist. "Oh, Tracey..."

"I love you," the brunette murmured into and around the tit, "I love you forever, and always. Just as I love Harry, he loves you, and he loves me."

"And I love you, and... and I think I love him, too," Daphne sighed, saying out loud the words she had only dared hint at a few times. Even just earlier in this same conversation, she could not directly say it. She never had, at least to her recollection, until now. If she had, it was surely in the heat of passion. Passion she was now feeling, to be sure, but not for Harry himself. Admitting it to herself, to Tracey, while her girlfriend was doing her best to make love to her...

It had taken more than she had imagined, and yet having said it, Daphne felt...

Lighter.

Freer. Free.

"I love him," she gasped, her brilliant blue eyes wide in astonishment. She looked down at Tracey, who was looking up at her while she suckled, and then giggled as the smaller girl slapped her cunt lightly through her already soaking knickers, "I can't believe I've never... never really even realized."

"You do," Tracey giggled, pulling away long enough to say it before moving back to the other breast and speaking into that firm mound next, "and now you've said it to me... When will you say it to him? He deserves to know before you make him sign that contract."

Daphne blinked while her girlfriend continued to pleasure her, even sliding a hand, the same that had struck her, no matter how delightful the frisson of contact had been, beneath her knickers and sliding the pads of her fingers up and down her folds. "Soon, I think... you're right, he does deserve to know. But I'm... I'm not attracted to..."

"Loving one person like Harry," Tracey reasoned, "does not make you a bisexual, or straight, Daphne. It only means you have fallen in love with someone you did not expect. As I did. For me, there are other men I find attractive, not just one."

"Ah... I suppose that's... true," she replied, breathing faster as Tracey started kissing between her breasts, then down her taut abdomen in a line. "It isn't so different... from Mother or Father, or Astoria... just... more love... r-right?"

"Harry loves many people," Tracey agreed, pausing to run a tongue into the other girl's belly button a few times, "yet his love for any particular one does not diminish the love for others. It is endless for him... and I imagine, for all mankind, if they choose it. Why should something so wonderful be limited?"

"An- an excellent q-question... please, for the love of Merlin, Tracey... just put your mouth on me, please!"

The petite witch grinned upward once more, knowing she had won their little game, as she almost always did. She was by far just a better tease, and both of them knew it. "As my queen commands," Tracey whispered, "My Ice Queen... shall I warm your heart and your nethers both?"

"Please!"

She didn't make her wait any longer. With one small hand mauling Daphne's left breast as roughly as she could, the other gently moving around the upper petals of her lover's pussy, Tracey's mouth opened and latched on. Her tongue lavished affection on everything it could reach, while her lips tugged and pulled at Daphne's core, almost trying to inhale the entire thing. Or at least, that's what it felt like to her. It was a peculiar technique, one she seemed to have picked up from Harry himself, but it did wonders for her. With attention on her extremely sensitive nipples, her clit, and most of the rest of her pussy, it only took Tracey's tongue delving inside for a few rigorous thrusts before she came undone, panting, gasping, and writhing. "T- T- Tra-Tracey! Oh, Merlin, oh Merlin, I'm cu-cumm-cumming!"

About two minutes later, a very satisfied-looking Tracey sat up with a small bounce and a chipper smile, to wipe the lubricant that had sprayed all from her chin. "Well... do you believe that I love you now, my love?"

"I'll never... never doubt again," Daphne panted breathlessly, "but now... now I feel like my lover needs to be... shown how much I love... her. Just- just as soon as I... catch my breath!"

Tracey could only giggle. Those giggles turned to squeals of delight and laughter a few minutes later as the larger girl pounced, pinning her to the bed.

The birds were still chirping in the trees as Sirius Black led Astoria Greengrass down the path toward the front gates of Hogwarts. From there, the pair would be apparating to just outside his girlfriend's flat. Once they met up, as they had seven times thus far since Christmas, the three would drive together to the Royal Marsden Hospital, renowned as one of the top three in the world for cancer treatments. At least, that's what the limited amount of research Hermione and a few others had been able to come up with in the time they had.

Sirius could only say that he had no fault with the way they had treated Astoria, himself, or his girlfriend.

The doctors seemed knowledgeable, and willing to learn if they did not already know something. While he had been a bit surprised, given Harry and Hermione's discussion about cancer in general and what it could do to a body and at how more recent muggle treatments were starting to prove more and more successful, he had high hopes that the youngest Greengrass' affliction might well be something manageable. Or even better, fully treatable. Furthermore, they had treated all of them well on a personal level. He knew the doctors and most of the nursing staff by name, and they knew himself, Astoria, and his girlfriend by both name and sight.

That was why his mood was good as Sirius held out his elbow to side-along the younger witch. Well, that and he would be seeing his girlfriend after more than two weeks apart. She hadn't been able to make the last appointment due to some issues with her family that needed addressing. Speaking of the woman, though... "Orla! You're ready to go?"

"Oh, you startled me, Sirius," the woman he had greeted said with a completely un-serious glare, "Stop doing that! I don't know how you sneak around so well, and stop teaching this sweet girl your dastardly tricks!"

Astoria only giggled as Orla approached, both their arms opening for a quick hug. She liked the older woman, who had quickly assumed the place of a favored aunt. Orla Saville was of mixed Irish and English heritage, which showed in her dark hair, a smattering of freckles, and lightly tanned skin, but also her general demeanor and how she carried herself. Which was a bit surprising to Astoria, as her accent was very much that of muggle New York. She talked like a Brit, but it was a strange dichotomy with the particular sounds and notes she made. Astoria loved it, just as she'd come to love the woman Sirius had now been dating for several months.

His longest ever relationship, she had learned early on.

"How are you, dear?" Orla asked.

"Same as always," Astoria said back, "Glad to be getting help. My parents were at a complete loss, until Harry and Sirius stepped in."

"Well, it's good they were available. Come on, we should get going. Traffic will be bad if we don't get a move on, just getting into London will be difficult, much less Marsden."

"Right. Well, lead the way, love... and if the visit is as quick as last time, I've gotten the okay to spend a little time here before we take Astoria back to school...?" Sirius said with a mischievous smirk.

Orla rolled her eyes, "Calm down, you horndog. We can discuss that later, when the girl herself isn't listening in, hmm?"

Astoria blushed, but just a little. Weeks now of hanging around Harry and his friends had largely inured her to casual conversation of sex, but these were still relative strangers. She may have lived with Sirius for a couple of months during the summer, and loved Orla dearly, but she didn't and couldn't say she knew them that well. "Don't mind me, if you need some quiet time," she supplied as they walked toward the small garage adjoining Orla's suburban cottage, "I can go for a walk."

"You're always tired after Chemo," Orla reminded her, "maybe just a nap. And Sirius can just settle for a cuddle."

"Aww..."

Thankfully, the drive wasn't as bad as Orla had feared, and within two hours the older two were sitting patiently in the waiting room while Astoria was in the office itself, undergoing yet another treatment. Hopefully, at the end, the doctors would have good news from the tests they had already run.

Conversation while they waited was light too. It focused mostly on vague plans for the summer vacation, with a bit of discussion about Astoria's home life, and why she had been staying with Sirius and Harry in the first place. While a heavy topic to be sure, Orla had already known most of it. That her parents did love her, but due to threats being made against her family it was felt she was better off with a 'family friend', instead. That had relieved the woman's heart when she had first learned of it, and now she had taken the situation to be as normal as it was going to get for the foreseeable future. It helped that Harry, who Orla had barely spoken to but also liked, was someone both Astoria and her older sister looked to for strength.

"Honestly, I don't know where the kid gets it," Sirius opined, "his dad was a good man, down to earth, and all that... but I feel pretty sure James would've broken under the strain that kid is under, and he was grown. His mum, Lily, was more hot-headed. She was strong, much stronger than she should've had to be, but her temperament was the fiercer of the two. Harry... he can be fierce, but when others need him he's always there. That's what gets me, he never says no to helping someone. It's got to be just exhausting."

"It probably is," Orla agreed softly, a little more mindful of the others in the lobby, "But from all you've told me, his upbringing until you were able to come into his life probably wasn't the best either. He... well, he probably has a lot of built-in trauma responses, but... things like that can either break a person, or make them harder and stronger than any steel could dream of being."

"I suppose," Sirius agreed thoughtfully, his voice low in the way that made Orla's insides quiver, "still... his whole life has been such a mess. I wish... I wish things had been different."

"So you've said. You haven't told me exactly what happened, though... why you weren't there. I know you regret it."

He let out a low sigh, "I do. It's... it was the worst decision of my entire life, and made at the lowest point of my whole life. It just made everything... worse. But... if you want me to tell you about it... I need to know. I need to know a few more things about.. well, us. Because it comes with other secrets, big ones, and I can't just tell you unless I have some kind of... commitment."

"Commitment?" Orla said with a giggle, looking at Sirius in shock, "You are asking me about commitment? That's rich, coming from you... but yes. I can tell you that I'm committed to this. To us. Unless it turns out you're a mass murderer, or something."

"Well, about that... that's what a lot of people thought at first..."

And he told her, quietly, there in the lobby of Marsden, everything. About magic, him being a wizard, Harry being a wizard. About how he had failed to protect James, Lily, and then Harry, failed to stop Peter. He went on with a brief explanation of what had happened after, about Voldemort's return, and what it would mean for Orla in particular if it was ever found out they were a couple. He ended the rambling explanation with a synopsis of Astoria's disease apparently being mundane, but caused by a magical curse generations ago.

Through it all, Orla sat quietly, her eyes occasionally twinkly in surprise at some of the details. But she listened throughout, never asking questions, until Sirius finished with, "And that's basically it. My last big secret is that magic exists, and... and if you're with me, then you can know. Otherwise I have to... I'm legally obligated... to wipe this conversation from your memory."

"I see," Orla responded, "well, I suppose it would make sense for someone to ask if you'd already done so before... but I think I can safely say that, while it's news to me in the details, I already knew the broad strokes. Because I've been trying to find a way to tell you that I'm a witch for months! And I can't believe I didn't see it before. Harry... Potter. Sirius Black. I'm a fool... but if you think I'm leaving you because that nutter of a Dark Lord is after him, you're a fool too, Sirius."

"Wh- What? I don't understand..."

Orla stared into the gray eyes that had wooed so many witches in his youth, and herself too if she were honest, and smiled, "I'm a witch myself, dummy. I went to Mato Tipila, in the western MACUSA."

Those same gray eyes widened comically, "Y- You did...? Well... that makes some things easier."

"Sure does," Orla chuckled.

Draco Malfoy sighed in post-orgasmic bliss as his two whores swapped his cum between their mouths. Life was good. He had done what the Dark Lord had asked, and created a way into the school. He had been tested, yes. His Dark Lord had seen fit to punish him, too. Rightly so, since he had allowed himself to be distracted by the pleasures of the flesh with that first Ravenclaw whore. Mandy, Mindy, Brandi, or whatever her useless, half-blood name had been.

But his second attempt had been successful, and they knew the Vanishing Cabinet worked. It had, after all, enabled he and his second whore's escape from the castle, and right under Potter's nose. The coward who fancied himself a true Gryffindor hadn't even been brave enough to follow him!

That had given the wizard time to capture another whore (an actual one he thought, though now the bint served only him and for free), and use her nondescript flat as a base of operations while he had contacted his master in utmost secrecy.

The mark on his arm prickled again, showing his master was pleased as he often was these days. Draco didn't blame him. As soon as there was a momentary weakness, a distraction, or something similar... the Dark Lord would pounce. Waves of Death Eaters could enter the school through the passage Draco had opened, bypassing all defenses. Yes, his master was well pleased... and now, so was Draco.

He had been given leave to stay here, where he was, and enjoy the fruits of his labor. It wasn't much.

A far cry from his comfortable family home, at any rate, but Draco would rather be in the relative hovel with his two whores than with his abhorrently servile family, who licked at the Dark Lord's boots. Of course, he would never dare say such a thing outside. He'd never have dared think it before his aunt Bellatrix had taught him the finer points of Occlumency. But at least he had shelter, food, and as much sex as he could dream of. For a boy who had grown up being made effectively impotent by his own godfather, it was a very welcome respite.

Isabelle Ross, for her part, was as happy as she had ever been under the Imperius Curse, and Draco knew it. He made sure she was full up on pleasure too, because between the two women he much preferred the younger Ravenclaw. The other was more skilled, and over the last two weeks since he had been able to lower his guard, the whore had taught Isabelle a great deal about pleasing a man. In fact, if he was careful, Draco was relatively sure that in the next few days he could go swap out the older whore for a newer model. Perhaps from Hogsmeade, during their next planned trip...

Wouldn't that just show Potter who the best wizard truly was!

Thinking about it was getting him hard again, so Draco grinned and looked down his sweat-stained body at the pair of whores. "Suck me again, sluts."

Without hesitation, both psychically dominated women did as they were told, passing his impressive, three and a half-inch todger back and forth between them with relish.

This was, indeed, the life.

Thus, Draco was fully relaxed and at ease when the door to the whore's flat exploded inward, and three very large, very angry-sounding men in Death Eater regalia stormed in, wands up. "Nobody fekkin' move," the largest of the lot, one whose voice Draco recognized even behind the mask, growled loudly.

Already too close to orgasm, Draco could not hold back the lurching in his pelvis as he reflexively shoved Ross down onto his cock all the way. For a reward, he got a cutting curse across the chest. Not deep, just enough to send a line of blood trickling down the sweat-stained skin. "Ow! How dare-"

"Shut the fekk up, you little shite," the big man growled, stalking closer, "Fan out, search the place. No surprises."

The other two did as the big man ordered at once, leaving Draco to splutter, "Goyle, what the hell are you playing at? I did what the Dark Lord said! He told me I could stay here!"

"All clear," one and then the other man said, joining Gregorovitch Goyle as he stayed in the center of the room, his wand pointed directly at Draco's face.

"Good. Take the valuables, get everything useful. Dark Lord says look for notes, too."

Once again, the two split off, and the momentary hesitation in the older whore's face as they raided her home for anything of even modest value died as she was hit by an Imperious curse that Draco had not cast. His wand, foolishly, was out of reach.

He wanted to protest, to yell, to shout. How dare this man, who was his father's underling, a lapdog at best, order him around! Threaten him! Hurt him!

But for some reason, Draco knew that railing against the situation would only make things worse. So he stayed silent, glad that he at least got to cum one more time before... whatever was going to happen, happened.

It took less than five minutes for the other two wizards to toss the place quite thoroughly. Draco had made sure it was messy just because he was far too lazy to clean up himself, and the whore's jobs were limited to pleasuring him, not taking care of any housework aside from fetching food. Still, the place was completely wrecked when they were done, and both men had bulging pockets. One even still had the scant notes Draco had been able to salvage from what Ross had written down curled in a grubby, gloved hand.

"See, the Dark Lord did say you could stay here, safe and sound, little Malfoy," the senior Goyle, father of one of his own former 'friends', "But the situation's changed, see? He jus' wan'ed you to stay right where he knew you were... until he either had need of you, or didn't have need of you. See what I'm gettin' at? You're a liability, now. An even bigger one, considerin' you just got seven o' my mates killed!"

The next cutting curse was deep. Deep enough that Draco didn't feel the pain for at least seven or eight seconds after it opened up his chest. What he did feel was a searing, burning cold in both of his lungs as air, unwarmed by passage through his body, hit the sensitive sacs there. Then a rush of warmth spilled down his chest, and fluid started filling his lungs, too. "I... I..."

"Oh, your fekkin' job was done, yeah, you shite," Goyle growled, leaning in over the whores and tugging up his mask, "you got that Cabinet workin' mighty well. Straight fekkin' into the fekkin' lake, where a bunch o' Merfolk tore our boys to shreds!" The last statement was punctuated by another roar, and the Cruciatus curse lanced across his body.

It was nothing compared to what he had felt under the Dark Lord's punishment, but Draco knew it didn't matter. Without a Healer, in very short order, he would die. So what did the pain matter? All he could do was protest, "No, I... it... it was... the room of... hidden..." he coughed, and blood sprayed upward along with a surge of cold in his chest again.

Goyle Senior only wiped the red flecks from his jaw with a sadistic, furious grin, "Don't feel too bad, Malfoy... your father and mother are gettin' their rightful place set up, too. Both of 'em jus' lumps o' flesh for us loyal servants of the Dark Lord, ain't they, boys?"

"Sure is," the shorter of the two others chuckled, "I gotta say, I like buggerin' Missus Malfoy more, but old Luscious sure do know how to treat a todger!"

"L- Lies," Draco coughed.

"Oh, I reckon it's not," Goyle growled, then looked down, "Though I do reckon we'll be takin' your used girls here for the boys to share. This one's young enough she might still be stretchy at least. Imperio. Imperio."

With the two women just as lost to reality as they had been for weeks or months, neither really even reacted as Goyle ordered them up. "Now, you sluts should just go please my mates while your former master watches on with his last breath. See, Malfoy... the Dark Lord does reward those who follow orders. Those who fuck things up... well, they get a different sort o' reward. They get to watch that reward get given to others. So go on there, breathe deep... keep on bleedin', jus' like my mates bled out all over into the lake at Hogwarts. Go on. Enjoy the sluts enjoyin' a real dick for once."

Slowly, Draco Malfoy's vision faded. The last coherent thought he had was, "No... No... they can't all be that big... no, the girls told me I was large..."

Gregorovitch Goyle might have ended him with a piercing hex between the eyes, but Draco Malfoy was already gone at the time.

The young miss Ross was clear enough, in the face of an arguably weaker Imperious curse, to throw free her shackles long enough to hex herself to death shortly before arriving at Malfoy Manor. Of the nameless whore Draco had destroyed, little was ever found. She was, sadly, neither the first nor the last to go missing in those dark times.

Something out of the corner of her vision caught Hermione's attention, and she looked up from her N.E.W.T. Charms book, which she had already read through and cast every spell from at least once already in the year. The Common Room was busy as always for shortly after dinner, as students from all years socialized, studied, or... well, these days there was a lot of snogging and other things, too. But at least, she noted with an idle glance toward Ron who sat across from her that most of the older students kept their hands in semi-decent places while the younger years were present.

That was all normal enough. What was less normal was that strange splotch of deep, dark green in Parvati Patil's magical aura.

She blinked, then shook her head. No... it was normal, now that she thought about it. The twin hadn't looked all that different at any time since Hermione had gained Magium Sibyllis after receiving her second Rune set in the faux library. Padma, she remembered with a moment to recall the data from her highly organized mind, looked quite similar in the color display to her twin, but their patterns were near mirror opposites.

It wasn't that they looked unusual, necessarily, it was just that...

A sweep of the Common Room again told Hermione that she was not in fact imagining things. There were perhaps twenty-seven students all told, counting herself, and their own auras were as unique as their fingerprints as far as she could tell. They changed throughout the day and with each student's mood, but by and large each was fairly stable. As stable as they could be given the hormones of adolescence, at any rate. More than that, there were many patterns that repeated throughout the student body.

Most Gryffindors, for example, had a healthy dose of warm, redder colors in their aura, while Hufflepuffs tended to yellow and browns, Ravenclaws to light blues and whites, and Slytherins to deep reds, violets, and, of course, greens. It was odd now that she thought of it, that a color Hermione had come to associate with happiness and self-actualization (not that most magicals would know the term) would be so common in that House, but it was what she had observed.

Seeing a darker version of the color on Parvati had been what caught her attention, and now that it had, Hermione found herself quite curious as to why it was just those two out of the entire student body she had seen with that particular color.

She had seen magic of that color before, several times. Recently, in fact, when Madame Pomfrey had given her a small dose of Skele-Gro, and then in brief flashes before that when she had been treating her and Luna's other minor injuries. That had only lent credence, in Hermione's mind, to the deep green being associated with health and healing, but she could not think of why.

It was just a little bit now, as it often was, but as Lavender Brown joined her best friend near the portrait hole carrying a few towels from the showers upstairs and a bottle of what looked like lotion, the green spread slightly. It did again, and then shot tendrils down Parvati's arm as it covered one of Lavender's. The blonde's free hand, she noted, was rubbing at her opposite shoulder, the one carrying the towels, and she was frowning. No... grimacing. In discomfort, perhaps pain.

The two girls exchanged a few quiet words, and Parvati's hand replaced Lavender's as they stepped out of the portrait hole, the green glow intensifying in her arm.

Before she could truly analyze what she had seen, Ron burped loudly and leaned back in his own chair. "Ah... I don't want to do this Charms homework. Three feet on Cleaning Charms? Mum had us master those when we were still in nappies."

"Practical application maybe," Hermione replied without looking at her lover, then slapped her own book shut. "I'll be back in a bit. Talk to you later- Don't wait up if I'm not back."

"H- Hermione? Where are you going? You know Harry's alright, right? He's with Lyra and Dumbledore."

"I know that," the witch murmured, rolling her eyes. If she were honest, knowing Harry was out of the castle, out of her ability to help, was bothering her, but she trusted the Succubus probably more than she should, Dumbledore more than that, and Harry most of all. It wasn't like she was worried, not really. She just wanted... a distraction. Something different.

And whatever that deep green color was, whatever was bothering Lavender, now a lover in her own right if second-hand, was of concern. "See you later," the bookworm said again as she spelled her books and homework to fly into her bag even while it lifted to her shoulder.

She didn't do more than shrug to Ron's last question of, "Library?", because she didn't know where she was going.

Once the Fat Lady's portrait had closed behind her, Hermione debated using a modified Point Me spell to find her friends, but thought against it. Maybe if it was necessary. "Excuse me, do you know where Lavender and Parvati went?" she asked, turning around.

The heavy-set woman jumped, half-way out of the portrait as if she was not expecting to be called on so recently for a second time. "I, er, no, not particularly... but they were talking about a massage, an injury that Miss Brown sustained the previous evening, I think."

"Ah, thank you," Hermione nodded.

There would be only three places the girls would go, then. The Hospital Wing was always a possibility, but the towels and lotion implied to her that Parvati might have offered to take care of it herself. It was known in their dormitory that both Patils were learning massage techniques from their grandmother during the summer break.

That meant Harry's Suite, if Lavender elected to do it there (she would have gotten Harry's, Ron's, or Hermione's permission to do so, wouldn't she?), and that left just one more option: The Room of Requirement.

Hermione started walking quickly, and was rewarded a few minutes later when she caught the tail end of Parvati's robes turning the last corner onto the seventh-floor corridor where Barnabus the Barmy's tapestry hung opposite the Room itself. "Parvati, Lavender," she called, and found both waiting for her when she caught up a few seconds later.

"What's up, Hermione?" Parvati asked as she turned the corner herself.

"Nothing, well, nothing too important," Hermione stammered, wondering to herself now why she'd bothered chasing them down. Seeing Padma, Parvati's twin sister, approach from the opposite end of the hall, which was closer to Ravenclaw's own tower, jogged her memory as the same green was quite visible in the more studious sister's aura as well. "Er, well, I suppose I just had a few questions for you. But first, I noticed you seemed a little uncomfortable, Lavender. Are you okay?"

The other girls shared a quick glance as Padma came closer, and the blonde shrugged with her uninjured side alone. "Not really, I pulled a muscle, um- doing something, yesterday."

The significant look she shot Hermione's way was enough to tell her that that "something" was more appropriately described as "someone" and in an adventurous fashion. That she didn't want Parvati to know about it when Lavender was hardly shy about being among, or even hands-down the most promiscuous girl in their House in any year, was saying something. She could help keep it secret easily enough, though. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do to help? I know a few basic healing spells, of course, but if it's a real injury you should probably see Madam Pomfrey."

"Oh, no, it's not that bad," Lavender replied, "Parvati and Padma are both pretty good at massage, so they should be able to fix me up pretty quickly. Of course, if for some reason it doesn't work, I'll head to the Hospital Wing. You don't have to worry about me, Hermione."

She nodded, accepting both statements. "Alright, well... I don't suppose you'd be interested in letting me watch...? I'm rather interested in massage myself. I don't think I have the patience to learn the skill really, but I'd be quite pleased to simply watch and observe. That is, if you're all comfortable with that...?"

Padma, who had arrived in time to hear Hermione, shrugged, a blushing just enough to be visible on her beautiful brown skin and glanced at the others, "Honestly, I'm surprised Parvati is here, but I... don't mind if you watch. At least, most of it. I thought Lavender just called me. Not that I mind... sharing the work."

Lavender surprised all three other girls by blushing even deeper as she looked between the twins, then determinedly at Hermione, "No, I don't mind if you watch, Hermione."

The twins still sent each other a couple of glances as Parvati walked back and forth in front of the Room's hidden door, the younger twin looking a bit confused and, maybe, a little hurt. That she thought Lavender would only invite Padma, maybe...?

After both Hindi witches had walked into the Room of Requirement, Lavender's hand landed on Hermione's arm quickly. "Sorry, I couldn't say it in front of Parv. We, Padma and I, were... experimenting with each other. Parvati might be jealous. It's actually good you're here, I don't think it'll come up with you there. That's how I hurt my shoulder, we were trying something from her Kama Sutra."

Hermione did a double-take before she stopped again and hissed, "You and Padma are lovers, too? Wouldn't that strain, um, things, with Parvati?"

"Only if she knows. I don't like keeping secrets from her, but... well, Pad let something slip. I kind of think they'd be open to, well, to Harry's... thing. Our thing. I just... don't know how to bring it up. Given that they're, you know..."

"Ah, I see the problem," Hermione murmured, holding up a finger to both girls inside. They could see each other through the door, but they all knew by now that sound didn't pass from one side to the other very well, as if it was actually the solid wall it was most of the time. "I'll... Well, I might have an idea on that front. "It's not so different from the Weasleys, after all. You're sure you want me there?"

"Please," Lavender begged, "I feel like it'll be so awkward if Padma wants to go further than just, you know, a massage, but Parvati isn't ready for that, yet. We've only practiced snogging a bit."

"A lot, from what I've heard," Hermione teased, but gave her friend and lover a gentle shove to the small of her back, "Don't worry, it'll all work out. I'm really interested in seeing just how worked up a slag like you gets with two hot twins working her over."

"H- Hermione!"

It was too late to respond, they were already inside, and the bookworm was pulling the door shut behind her.