The rest of the train ride passed quickly enough. They disembarked and waved at Hagrid as he called the first years to the boats. Harry jumped into a Thestral-drawn carriage which slowly made its way towards the door. The sorting and subsequent feast was as exciting as always, with students exchanging summer stories and greeting old friends, but Harry barely noticed.
Even when Dumbledore made his opening speech, Harry continued to lose himself in his own thoughts. Slughorn was potentially a very useful – not ally per se – but…tool. Yes, a very useful tool. The so called Slug Club would give Harry a front with which to influence the more influential of his peers, and with any luck the man would prove to be just enough of a sycophant for Harry to manipulate.
A glance at the Slytherin table allowed him to briefly catch Tracey's eye, and while she revealed nothing, Harry was convinced that she and her companions were at least intrigued.
Thinking back to his most unexpected ally, Kreacher, led him to thoughts of Dobby. The latter was far too excitable and willful. He would have to be dealt with. But first, the lackeys needed to be dealt with. Jolted out of his musings, Harry turned to Hermione.
"Harry, are you alright? I've been calling you for the last five minutes."
"Sorry, just thinking of the year," Harry replied.
"The feast is over. Honestly Harry, are you sure you're alright? Perhaps you should see Madam Pomphrey." "Hermione, he's fine," Ron interrupted. "Prolly coming up with ways to jinx the great git –" "Ron! You're a prefect!" Hermione shrieked. With a chortle, Ron followed behind, leading the new first years toward the Gryffindor Common Room.
Arriving at his familiar bed, Harry immediately went to bed, unwilling to listen to whatever mindless chatter his roommates seemed intent on filling the hours with.
Today's a Sunday, which would be fine if I could do something useful. I had been forced to spend all yesterday milling around this common room, listening to Ron and Hermione prattle on about classes and quidditch and god know what else.
Just when I thought I'd finally put to practice some of the curses I've learnt the Creevy brothers came bounding into the room. Little fuckers. I swear here and now that when I finally get round to the Avada Kedavra, those two are the first to go. I wanted to snoop round a bit, maybe catch up with one of my pet snakes, but come evening Ron suggested we sneak down to the Kitchens. Right – filching a couple of tarts at 15.
Voldemort was controlling giant glare-killing snakes at that age. Fuck have I got a long way to go.
Only positive step this weekend was stopping by McGonagall's office this morning. Seemed she was a bit confused by my selection of 3rd year Arithmancy and Runes and dropping Divination. She's got no reason to be wary of me though, and it is a fairly harmless change. If anything she seemed pleased.
The next day started as the first of term always does – fighting to get Ron out of bed, watching Neville almost piss himself in anticipation of having to see Snape after a two month respite, and generally trying to get to the great hall at a reasonable time in the face of all the early hustle and bustle. I plunk down next to Hermione who's currently rereading herPrefect's Guidefor the umpteenth time while attempting to eat toast.
Eventually McGonagall comes around with the schedules. Basic stuff, though Ron's miffed that I'm not going to be having Charms with the rest of Gryffindor, as that's when my new Runes class is. I point out that the end result is I'm now having Charms with the Slytherins and the 'Puffs, and he mollifies – if only slightly.
Pushing Ron away may be the easiest thing I do all year, and best of all, it'll have his fingerprints all over it.
The first week was…tedious. Uniform lectures about O.W.L. years, followed by an inane spell or other. I'm sure death eaters will cower as I turn mice into teapots. And note, I even took the time to customize the design. Arithmancy and Runes – while a necessity, are hardly going to entertain – especially surrounded by all these third years. Fuck, my Runes partner spends half her time doodling little hearts with my initials in it. Vane something. Mind you she's cute, well certainly better looking than the little Weaslut. She might end up being worth a lay or two in a few years time.
Most of the other classes are just as dull, though Defense proves to be a rather unexpected diamond in the rough. Say what you will about the man's antisocial tendencies, I imagine I'll actually come out ahead this year, even if I haven't yet found a suitable place to train. The bastard takes a sadistic pleasure in making me the class dummy.
Right off the bat he mentions nonverbal incantations being a useful dueling tool, and the next minute I'm hanging upside by my ankle. Bad enough my legs are still pathetically thin. Bastard went for the cheap laughs then – see how you'd like to be malnourished for the worse part of two decades.
Top it all off, the git wouldn't even tell us the incantation. Hermione was more upset withthatthan my misfortune. That settles that one – Hermione gets to be my test subject when I figure out just where the fuck that curse came from. Maybe I'll vanish her knickers at the same time…/show the school just how bushy-haired she really is./
Harry awoke Friday morning with a gasp as a surge of pain ran through his forehead. /Great buggering fuck, Harry thought dryly, /so much for Occlumency/. Vowing to not grow complacent on the subject, Harry ended the silencing charms on his bed curtains and with a grumble in Ron's direction, started off to the Great Hall.
Potions at last,Harry thoughttime to test the waters.Harry met up with Hermione, and made yet another attempt at civilized conversation. The relations between the two had continued to be strained, and Harry's seeming desire to match Hermione's efforts in class was certainly doing nothing to close the rift. The morning seemed peaceful enough, though Harry's lack of tension towards Hermione was due more to his musings on the nest part of his plan. He had yet to find a private locale in the school and in truth had not had much time to explore.
Glances at the map however, informed him that no part of the school was very private, and Filch was rather adept at moving between chokepoints within the school past curfew. However, Harry felt that time was passing to quickly, and thus while he couldn't reveal his hand; he could nudge some things in the right direction.
Walking towards the dungeons, Harry had his wand hidden in the folds of his sleeve, and prepared himself to nonverbally cast the tripping jinx. He wasn't very proficient at nonverbal spell casting – as Snape has so judiciously informed him within the first attempts, and in truth his out of class practice had proven nearly fruitless. However, the tripping jinx was a first year spell and having practiced this particular spell almost exclusively, he was confident he could pull it off.
As anticipated, the Slytherins suddenly came into view. Harry turned towards them as Ron was muttering to Hermione about the lack of value in potions. Meeting Daphne's eye, Harry shot the tripping jinx towards her. It was weak – much weaker than had he said it verbally, but her lack of focus and the bustle in the hall caused her to stumble, losing hold of her satchel. Harry stopped as if to help her with her books, and by the time the others had noticed, they were through the door of the Potions class room.
Daphne glared venomously at Harry. After his rather thinly veiled and truth be told, poorly executed threat on the train, the Gryffindor golden boy had not said so much as a word to any of them. She had seen him in defense and surprisingly in charms, but he had sat with the 'Puffs, and made no attempt to garner her attentions.
Now apparently, he was making his move – subtle enough to appear accidental, but still cause her some amount of humiliation. /Purebloods do not stumble, such acts of gracelessness are for cows and muggleborns. Scowling she looked at his smirk while moving towards her own wand. The others had not noticed yet – perhaps she could castrate the bastard and none would be the wiser.
His smirk suddenly went cold and he gripped her wand hand by the wrist, applying pressure until it physically stung. This was new – no one had attacked her physically before. Unbecoming. Her look of shock must have shown, as his smirk reappeared, and he mouthed the word, /mine/. As he continue to stare at her, Daphne Greengrass found herself unconsciously doing something she would never have accused herself capable of – she nodded.
As he handed her back her potions texts, he took on the air of just another helpful student. It wasn't until they entered the Potions Lab itself that she realized the true deviousness of his actions. Ever student within the room was already partnered – a typical Gryffindor/Slytherin rift. The bastard was going to be herde factolab partner for the term, and the greatest irony of it all, he'll probably get sympathy for it.
Perhaps,Daphne thought, as she sat down next to the boy who suddenly appeared demure as half the class looked pitifully in his direction,the Gryffindor Golden boy truly is more than he appears.
Just as Harry sat down, Professor Slughorn waddled into the room. "Ah good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I've looked forward all week to meeting my OWLs classes. Wonderful to see some of you breakout out of your houses and working together…"
Harry rolled his eyes – the man may have his fingers in more pies than Dudley on his birthday, but he certainly wasn't subtle. "…if you don't believe that, just ask Ms. Matilda Hopkins of the Holy head Harpies – taught her myself not ten years ago..." There he went again. Then just as quickly as he told an antidote about himself and the former minister of Macedonia (capital fellow – and not the least bit shy about enjoying a stiff drink), he became silent. Harry was impressed – the man knew how to captivate an audience.
With a flourish, he pulled a vial out of his pocket. "This," he exclaimed. "Is a day's worth of Cornicopus Solution. Can anyone tell me what it does – yes, Ms…" "Granger sir", Hermione simpered.
"The Cornicopus solution will take on the nutritional and sensual aspects of any liquid the drinker desires." "Excellent work, Ms. Granger – five points to Gryffindor. Can anyone tell me why it's called the Cornicopus solution…yes Mr.… Weasly?"
"Well, it never runs our does it?" "Ah not quite Mr. Weasly – but that's the idea – the potion will continue to replenish itself within a specific timeframe. Five points for Gryffindor. Now while I certainly wouldn't condone any of you using this potion to make your own firewhiskey" another not so subtle wink –maybe the man has an eye twitching disorder?Harry mused. "This is obviously a useful potion and we will be spending the next month attempting to brew it. In the meantime, we will begin with a much simpler potion that works on the same principle – transforming a set quantity of one solution into a second solution of one's choice. You will find the instructions on page seven of your text books. The group with the best result will be given a one hour sample of Cornicopus."
Immediately most of the class began to scamper around the room, lighting cauldrons and collecting school provided beetle eyes and powdered goat horn.Firewhisky virgins thenHarry mused, though not particularly scornfully, as he wouldn't mind a taste of the stuff himself.
Turning to Daphne he asked, "Shall I prepare and you brew, or the other way round?" The girl gave him a long look before answering; his earlier scheme had obviously earned him a sliver of grudging respect.
"You prepare, she said slowly. I know what my hand's like at potions, not sure about yours." It wasn't quite an insult – Harry's past in potions was beyond pathetic, but she seemed to be looking at him as an empty slate – or at least a shrouded one.
Harry nodded, and began to cut the Dandelion roots as noted. The lack of Snape and the presence of a Slytherin partner mean Harry was not distracted by sabotage attempts, and for the first time he was truly able to devote himself to the work at hand.
While admitting this advantage of working with a snake would only later serve to infuriate Ron, there was no doubt Harry benefited. Harry had often wondered how his own skill and expertise in cooking seemed to never materialize in potions. Oh they were obviously different, but surelysomethingwould have shown through.
Now it finally was, and with Daphne's own skill in potions, by the end of class, their potion was the proper shade of dull green, matched only by Malfoy and Nott, much to Hermione's obvious displeasure.
"Close – very close. Hmm, well I suppose I could share the prize between the teams – Mr. Nott, Mr. Potter – I'll give you each half and leave it to you to divide it with your partner. Well done the lot of you."The old Walrus really knows no shame.
The next few weeks passed much in the same way. It seems my quick temper is giving me a wide berth from my housemates. Good riddance. Practicing Occlumency is frustrating to say the least. The Dark Lord is still fucking with my head, and it seems that any Legilimancer worth the word would be able to break into my mind with me none the wiser.
Earlier I would have asked Slughorn for help, but where my thoughts have been for the last few months, that venue is out. However, with Hermione and Ron, and even Ginny giving me space, I've had time to explore a bit, and I've come into the habit of bumping into Blaise and Daphne at semi-regular intervals. Tracey is much more elusive, but I only need a toe hold, and I can get that through the other two.
Slughorn seems bound and determined to keep me happy in Potions, along with Nott, Zabini, and to a lesser extent Hermione. For the first time I can think of, Hermione and Malfoy are twisting their panties over the same thing. That's something to think about – nice way for me to know if I've truly masteredImperioor not – these lovely little ideas just keep coming.
A month into school. September 30th. 13 years and 11 months since my parents took a green bolt to the gut. First quidditch game of the year – it's been moved up a month this year, seems they want to get it over with as quickly as possible – fair enough I suppose.
It's against Slytherin of course, so naturally the tension over breakfast is tangible. Ron looks ready to shit himself – he made the team not so much out of any talent on his part but the remarkable lack of it coming from anyone else. He was, in a nutshell, less awful. Malfoy's been jeering him up all week, and I imagine he's got something planned for this game. The boy maybe as sharp as a quill feather, but that's about as sharp as you need to be to get under Ron's skin.
Sure enough, Slytherin wins the coin flip, and rather than choose to lead with the quaffle, they elect to have Ron defend the Slytherin posts. This could very well end up like the Quidditch World Cup – though I imagine my housemates won't see it that way.
Just as predictably, Slytherin scores twice within the first minute. I suppose Angelina is to blame for the second for dropping the quaffle, but theyweresoft shots. Just goes to show you Ron reallyisuseless at everything. Suddenly from the Slytherin stands, singing. No one ever sings at quidditch matches – fuck, what's the point – Lee shouts over everyone even without theSoronuscharm.
But there they go, and they even have the nerve to do it to the tune of /Wizards, Witches, Blood of Blue:
Weasly Weasly here's to you
Defender of our hopes and dreams
If ever we had cause to doubt
Your lack of talent- how it gleams
Perhaps if you'd been born
Not in a flock, not in a bin
You'd have the grace, you'd have the skill
To keep the quaffle out, not in
But as you are a hopeless case
Your lack of talent is no choice
To you as one we all shall stand
WEASLY WEASLY WE REJOICE/.
Well that's a basket of puppies. Ron's brilliant response is to turn red and allow another three shots to go through. We're down by forty and the game's not five minutes old. A quick glance over my shoulder shows that Gryffindor is trying to heckle the Slytherin keeper, but the effect tends to be lost when the ball never seems to cross the halfway marker.
Fred and George are now focusing exclusively on Slytherin Chasers, though I think George is sorely tempted to send one or three down towards Ron. Angelina is furious, and it's showing in her performance. Katie and Alicia manage to two more shots a piece, but Slytherin has made a dozen in that time, and that's despite everything Fred and George can throw at them.
The Slytherin's are now in uproar, yet another round of Weasly, Weasly here's to you. Looking over at the snakes, I see a speck of gold – just below the first row in the student gallery. Malfoy is a fair bit above and behind me, enjoying watching Ron make an absolute ass of himself.
I lean forward and head straight towards it, desperate to get this game over with and then get a front row seat to what should be a bollicking made of magic from Angelina. The little golden bastard is not 20 meters away now…10…5… and the fucker disappears. Not just flies away or goes into some inaccessible corner – just fucking pops out of existence.
I look up to see Greengrass and Davis smirking at me. Bitches the pair of them, but fuck was that a good bit of charm work. And to make it visible only to me – as it becomes apparent everyone else thinks I'm feinting – well somehow they managed to get hold of one of my hairs – I'm going to have to do something about that. I turn around only to see Malfoy screaming towards the ground…and the fucker has done it.
Four years after out first game, he's beaten me. Oh, he had help from the snake pit – maybe even help he doesn't know about – but that won't protect me from the judging lot that I live with. Can't really blame them though, sheep only following their nature and all that.
Daphne though….she'll pay. I've been slowly working on her for a month, even proved to be a capable potion maker in my own right – and this is what I get. I'm moving far, far too slowly, it's time to bring my sadistic princess into my shadow.
But first, to extract myself from the bollicking previously reserved solely for Ron. I imagine he'll still carry the brunt of it – losing by a strong 230 points is definitely a team effort.
As it turned out, Harry got off rather lightly. Although Angelina lost no restraint in demanding just why Harry was half a field away for no reason when Malfoy caught the snitch, she was absolutely livid with Ron. After reaming out the youngest Weasly until she was almost in tears, Angelina dismissed the team and they began the trek back to the Gryffindor common room.
It had been four years now since Gryffindor had lost to Slytherin, and many in the house had begun to take it for granted that the match would end in victory. Not wanting to face a horde of angry faces, Harry peeled off, wandering through the halls – keeping quiet but not truly caring if he got caught.
Although he currently lacked his cloak, he had taken to keeping the Marauder's Map on his body at all times. Stopping on a hallway on the seventh floor, Harry let out a deep sigh and sat down against the wall. He was exhausted. Quidditch matches always left him tired and the Slytherin match more so. On top of which, he felt he was falling further and further behind in his extracurricular activities, unwilling to risk discovery in Dumbledore's stronghold.
He had been keeping ahead of his current class work, and was sincerely delighted to discover that his current top classes – potions and charms – were both areas of aptitude for his mother. It seemed that Slughorn truly did know quite a bit about Lily Evans, and Harry was pleased to have inherited something from her other than her eyes.
Nonetheless, his current workload was taking its toll on Harry, and nutritional supplement potions did nothing to help his current bout of fatigue. Harry was jolted out of his thoughts by a voice whispering loudly down the hall.
"Harry, Harry – are you here? Are you alright?"Fuck, Harry thought, /leave it to Ginny to come looking for me like a lost puppy. I need to find someplace that little twat can't find me.As if on demand a doorway appeared behind him.
Stunned, Harry jumped up, seeing a door he was certain had not been there before. /Well this is interesting/. Harry found it unlocked and quickly went inside. The interior was bare, but the wall he had come through was now transparent. Harry watched as Ginny walked up the hallway. She stopped at the door leading to this mysterious room, and Harry cursed under his breath.
She turned the knob and – it seemed to be locked. She certainly didn't open it, and after a moment continued down the hall. Harry grinned;finally, something's gone right today. If only this room were more comfortable…In a pop, the room was suddenly much cozier. A warm fire dominated the room, and an overstuffed chair sat facing it from a comfortable distance.
Harry let loose a long cold laugh. It seemed that patience was in fact, a virtue. His smile turned cold – now to make the little bitch responsible for this miraculous find pay. Harry Potter was about to induct the first member of his inner circle – she just didn't know it yet.
The next evening found Harry lurking outside hallway leading from the Great Hall towards the Slytherin dungeons. Harry had commissioned Fred and George to spike the Slytherin desert platters with Bowels-be-gone Butterscotch flavoring. A quiet (he still didn't trust himself on such precise non-verbal spell casting) switching spell and Daphne was guaranteed to be the only Slytherin to bypass the tainted food – though Terry Boot from Ravenclaw would not be so lucky.
As the sudden stampede of stricken Slytherins made their way past Harry's spot, he saw Daphne walking slowly and a good distance away. She was not fooled – she could not see Harry, but it was obvious that someone had attacked the Slytherins with the intent she alone be spared, and there wasn't anyone else who might fit in that category. Her own attack on Harry yesterday led her to believe his motives were not altruistic.
As prepared as she was though, she did not expect for a silencing spell to appear out of nowhere, nor did she expect an invisible hand to grab the back of her neck, and a cold voice whisper "Follow me" into her ear.
Nodding slightly and resisting the urge to shudder, she was half dragged-half led up several flights of stairs. Unable to see exactly where her invisible opponent's wand was, she was compelled to obey Harry's instructions. The material on the back of her neck betrayed that he had access to an invisibility cloak, and despite the situation she had to admire his resourcefulness. She wasn't truly afraid. Harry was obviously not the perfect child he was made out to be, but he certainly wouldn't hurt her. Even if he tried, she knew a thing or two about cutting curses that would put any man off the idea of attacking her.
Out of nowhere, a door appeared to her right. Now, for the first time, she felt tendrils of fear. She had passed this particular corridor hundreds of times in her Hogwarts years – and yet never before had a room been here. It opened, and she was pushed inside.
The room was small, and held nothing but a pair of steel manacles that were bolted to the wall. Daphne was now beginning to feel real terror. This was no longer a joke and a far cry from reasonable retaliation for her stunt during the match. She reached for her wand, only to hear that cold voice again "stay still you little bitch".
She froze. In that split second, she heard a whispered "Perfectus Totalus" and she fell over like a block of wood. She was turned over by the invisible hands, and with a flourish, she was greeted by the sight of a now visible Harry Potter, green eyes hard and calculating.
"Daphne" he said, "I've played your little games, but last night was the last straw. From here on out, you're mine and you will play by my rules."
Not my best work, and I'll be the first to admit it sounded a little cliché, but I think she was far too shaken to think straight. Her glare was nowhere as menacing as it has been, but her eyes still sparkled with hatred and pride.
"Daph, can I call you Daph? Pet name for my pet." If anything her glare intensifies. "I love that glare of yours Daph", I say as I pick her up and lean her against the wall. Leaning in, I shove my pelvis into her frozen body. "Can you see just how much I love it?"
There – the glare is still strong, but it's now tainted with real terror. Poor girl thinks I'm going to rape her. Not at all – I still have morals after all. Anyway, it'll be far far more satisfying when this one-time sociopath begs me for my attentions and affections – and we all know just how zealous the newly converted are. I wonder if Voldemort feels this way when the pureblood elite grovel at the hem of his robes, or Dumbledore when the unwashed masses look to him with nothing but admiration. Perhaps I'll ask them both the moment before I kill them.
So many things I have to do – and now I have finally reached my true beginning, my turning point. As I tie the chains around her wrists, I lift both spells on the girl, but cast a muffling charm on her. I don't know how this room works entirely, and though I want her to be able to talk, I certainly don't want her screaming her pretty little head off – well – not now anyway.
"Let me go you bastard" she grits through her teeth at me. Oh this girl has spunk. I tell her as much, and she lashes out at me. "My my Daph, losing your touch aren't you?"
"Don't call me that Potter! If I'd known you'd become such a psycho over a quidditch game, I'd have called off the damn prank. I didn't even know it would cost you the game." Her voice is becoming more desperate now – higher pitched. "Potter, I'm sorry…really. Just let me go."
I laugh – her naivety is too cute. "Daph…Daph. This has nothing to do with the quidditch game, though I won't deny that it certainly sped up events. This is about you, and your future. I lied to you on the train Daph. I told you you have a choice. You don't, I've already made it for you. You're going to serve me."
Her eyes widen, and suddenly the fire resurges through them. "I will never, never serve anyone. Not Voldemort, and certainly not a filthy Half-blood like…" I slap her. As hard as I can.
"Don't ever, ever insult my mother in front of me again. Is that clear?" I whisper. She nods, far too quickly. It's only too evident that the little pureblood princess has never experienced physical pain. I'm sure any punishment she received at home was either magical or most likely non-existent. Oh Vernon would have torn her apart within a week.
She's shocked now, absolutely stunned. I grab her roughly by the neck, and stare deep into her eyes. They're green, almost like mine, but not quite. Suddenly, I loosen my grip and trail my hand softly down her neck and then brushing across her chest and down the side of her breasts. She inhales sharply and I smile. I was right, magic truly is a primal force, and I'm full of it. I really should have taken Voldemort's advice to heart at the end of first year, but I'm paying it back now, and in spades.
I can feel the magic rippling through my body. My scar tingles, but it's a pleasant feeling, and for the first time I realize that I'm the one causing it. I can quite literally sense the magic flowing to my eyes. My hands continue to work subconsciously on Daphne's body, and her shivering increases. They work their way under her robes, and she only lets out a slight mewl of protest – she's far too absorbed in my eyes.
And then, as quickly as it starts, I can feel what can best be described as a flash within my own head, and I look back at Daphne. Not just into her eyes, but at her in her entirety. My hands are now firmly holding her sides, and I note that she is looking down, her entire position one of submission – something I've never seen from her before.
My hands leave her sides and rest under her chin, forcing her up to look at me. Her eyes have changed. The passion that was once hatred and anger are still there and still manifests itself in those emotions. But they are no longer directed at me. Instead, I see desire and…lust? A thirst for power that seems to have become much more primal and open in this gorgeous creature in front of me.
That's what she is now – a creature. Her humanity – that cloak for those base instincts – seems to have vanished. For the first time I can read her clearly.
I smile and with a speed I didn't know I possessed, I kiss her. It's not tender or caring, but it is passionate. Her lips crash against mine and my tongue teases the seam of her lips, demanding entrance. Immediately she complies, and our ritual for dominance continues in a similar pattern of her resisting and me unrelenting in victory.
I bite down on her lip, just hard enough to almost draw blood, and she whimpers against me. Her whole body is screaming with tension, and it's obvious that her arms are craving the physical contact they cannot have. I pull away, making it clear that I am fully in control of this dance.
"You're mine" I say, "Mind, body, magic, and soul – you belong to me." She sighs. "Yes…yours." I smile. "My most loyal." Her grin matches my own. "Yes, your most loyal…always." I unchain her arms. "Swear to it" I demand. My wand is ready – if she so much as hesitates for an instant, I'll bind her up and figure out how to do this process again.
Without any pause, she reaches for her wand and pointing it at her own heart, exclaims, "I, Daphne of the House of Greengrass, do swear upon my life and magic to pledge my body, my life, my soul, and my magic to you, my Lord and Master, Harry James of the House of Potter."
I'm stunned. Absolutely speechless. True, I had demanded her to do the very same, but I didn't expect it to actually work, much less to the absolute degree to which she has given herself. After a deep breath, I look at her, as she awaits my response, the gleam in her eye betraying her anticipation, even as she holds herself proudly in her humility.
"I, Harry James of the House of Potter, do recognize your claim, and take you as my first – my most loyal." This girl truly is insane – I couldn't have made a better choice. The look on her face is as if I had just handed her the deed to Hogwarts – awed. I place my hands on her shoulder, letting her robes slide down her back to reveal her breasts.
They're firm and supple – from what I can gather they're obviously smaller than Lavender's, but I'd wager they're definitely larger than Hermione's. A beautiful, golden cream color, with soft pink areolas around pert nipples.Like rosebuds.
"Daph" I coo, and she looks at me with nothing short of total admiration. "As much as I'd love to ravish you right now, I will not." She looks down, as if she is to be shamed for this turn of events.
"A week from today, you will meet me again in this room. I will expect you to have a hair from the head of each Slytherin in our year. I will not tolerate failure – I know you somehow procured a hair from my own head." She blushes prettily. "If you fail, I will realize that I made a poor judgment in making you my own."
She blanches in horror. Of course this is complete crap – if nothing else she would make an excellent subject for losing my virginity, and making myself all the more knowledgeable for more…worthier servants. She doesn't need to know this.
"If you succeed however, I shall know I have chosen well. I shall mark you as my own, and afterwards will consummate my right over you, making you mine forever."
She looks as though nothing could please her more. In truth, I really want nothing more than to ravish her here and now, but it's getting late – and I have absolutely no intentions of rushing my first experience in this particular sin. I'll have to come up with some cover story, but within a week I should be able to come up with some reason as to be out all night. I have no worries over Daphne's absence – the Slytherins aren't about to chat with the Gryffindor and realize the two of us were out at the same time.
Secondly, I found a branding spell in my dark arts book. TheCruor Vincotorqueo- the blood branding spell. Basically, it creates a rune of eternal servitude made from the blood of the victim. To the rune the master can attach any number of charms – much like the dark mark – as well as a second rune that functions as the visible symbol of the master.
I imagine Voldemort came up with his own mark to avoid the spilling of his own blood – a necessity within the ritual. However, I'm not above such necessities in exchange for such a powerful brand. Symbolically, I like the idea of consummation following the branding – gives it a nice "till death do us part" feel about it. Now that I've found this room, I'm confident I can learn the spell. The description says its not difficult, but rather very dangerous as it requires a sincere desire for casting from both master and servant – anything less would be fatal too both parties – another reason I imagine Voldemort wasn't too keen come to think about it.
I've already come up with the symbol I intend to use. The Blood Rose was used by wizards during the primarily muggle War of the Roses. Although not siding with either house, the wizards who took the symbol did so under the declaration of keeping England pure. Naturally, they were the most twisted of the lot.
Even so, they've gone down as heroes of myths and legends, and the House of the Blood Rose is still revered among purebloods today. It seems…fitting.
So, with a slower, more tender kiss to Daphne I bid her adieu for the evening. She bows her head, and with a final look of adoration leaves my newly christened "Room of Desires" and heads toward the dungeons. A glance at my map tells me it's safe to return to the tower.
When I arrive, I note Ron is still up, but with a smile that's actually sincere for once (though for other reasons, obviously) I tell him I was trying to hunt Hermione down in the library. I know she wasn't there – how I love the map, but Ron accepts it, even though he feels the need to point out even Hermione leaves the library at curfew. Bossy know-it-all is rubbing off on the boy.
I nod and grin sheepishly, then yawn dramatically and we head to bed. For the first time this year, my dreams are not about Voldemort's machinations or nonsensical ramblings.
No, tonight, my dreams are filled with nothing but the face of my sadistic princess, dancing up and down on the length of my cock.
