A/N:
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Finally, Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukka, Happy Kwanzaa, or whatever holiday you celebrate, or don't, this season. :) There will be an additional post tomorrow, for the same holiday (just for those curious, for me, Christmas). Yes, this maintains truth even on Christmas- I was gonna do 3 days before, and forgot, so I'll do my utmost to get the next chapter posted tomorrow anyway. :)

APOLOGIES, somehow this didn't get uploaded or published on the 26th as it should have. My bad! It's coming now, and thanks to my buddy who let me know! :)

Chap. 54 : Lost (Girls / Memories / Innocence)

"This is the place, Potter," a very worn-out looking Ravenclaw seventh year said, gesturing at a nondescript classroom door down a rarely-used hallway on the edge of the castle on the fourth floor. There were six other D.A. members around them, two teams now, plus Harry himself, whose nerves were on edge enough to make his hair spark almost like Hermione's with static. "You used to come here for some privacy with her?"

The older boy nodded, blushing. Clearly, he was not ready to discuss his encounters with his girlfriend so openly, but Harry was beyond caring. It was hard to find an empty room these days, he had heard, since so many couples were sneaking off regularly. Or even casually, without being in a relationship. "Alright. I want you to go down the hall and stay there. If we don't come back out, you get teachers or more D.A. right away. I don't think we'll be long, though."

"I want to go in," he growled, but stepped back when Harry sent him a quelling look, as if he was actually afraid of the younger boy's growing anger. Perhaps he should have been, for Harry's reputation ever since the Triwizard fiasco had been one of a highly competent wizard, no matter the smear campaign of the previous year.

"No, you don't want to see what I expect. She'll need you, or at least need your help, but you don't need to see it just yet. Go back, or we don't go in."

A part of Harry himself thought he was being too harsh with that command, but he'd mostly intended it as a method of getting across just how serious he was. Reluctantly, with a huff, the other boy grumbled, "Yeah, yeah. First sign though, Potter, the very first one."

"Good," the younger agreed, then glanced to the others, "Be ready for a fight. Don't forget your target discipline- we don't want you hitting friendlies, or someone unarmed. But if a wand gets pulled... take 'em down hard."

Michael Corner, Ernie MacMillan, Solinda Stone from Hufflepuff, a year down he thought, Moira Davies, also in Hufflepuff, and Brandon Harris, a seventh year Ravenclaw, the team leader for their group, gave him a resolute look, each one nodding in turn. "Let's go, Harry. We're with you."

Harry nodded once, swallowed, and reached for the door handle, his wand already tapping it as he incanted, "Finite Incantatum. Finite... clear."

There had been at least one charm on the door, he knew, for it had tingled the moment his wand-tip touched it, but there was no reaction now. With a final moment to let his companions prepare themselves for whatever they would see, Harry threw open the door and strode in rapidly to clear the space, his wand held high, "Lumos!"

What he saw was somewhere between predictable, and utterly surprising.

Draco Malfoy was the predictable part. He'd suspected the boy was up to something all year. Seeing the Dark Mark inked in blackness on his right forearm was not much of a shock, either. I was right, he crowed inwardly.

Seeing the flax-haired boy with his dick buried inside a woman was a much bigger surprise. The last he'd heard of Draco, he was nearly impotent, though Harry had thought he might have been able to get it up for Mandy. The stains and odor of sex that littered the area around his schoolyard nemesis implied that he was anything but, now. He had time to note a few other details of the room: desks shoved to one side, a bed where the teacher's podium should be, covered in the same stains. Dishes and old remnants of meals, a chamber pot, and a large black cabinet he had definitely seen before.

"That's her," Brandon cried, "That's Isabella! Why's she- with Malfoy? What the hell?"

The sixth-year boy had been quite startled when Harry and his allies had burst into the room, and spent several precious seconds staring at them. Unfortunately, Harry was just as stunned, despite his preparations.

Malfoy's wand rose first, but it did not cast toward them. Instead, it flipped toward the cabinet, which flew open with a bang. "Come on, whore!" he cried, yanking himself free and dashing, still naked, toward it.

Harry's wand came up in what felt like slow motion, and two spells left it almost simultaneously. One splashed off the Cabinet itself, a burst of green and gold, that did nothing, and the other went wide. Then Draco was gone behind it, shielded from view as he started to run in.

Much slower still, the girl stood up as the others' spellfire whirled around her, none hitting, and dashed toward the Cabinet, too, her small breasts bouncing almost hypnotically.

Harry yelled out just one word, "Stop!"

Neither the spell-fire from the D.A. members nor the girl obeyed quickly enough, and a moment later she was gone, too.

Just as he reached it, hands outstretched to grab the doors, skidding on the hardwood floor as his angle changed to aim inside, Harry watched as the doors moved, slamming shut with incredible force.

Within the cabinet, there was a soft click, and then a hum, which fell silent as the group caught up to him. "Fuck!" Harry yelled, smashing a fist into the door hard enough to break skin. It did nothing to the enchanted wood, however.

Several spells, including multiple casts of Finite Incantatum, blasted into the Cabinet a moment later as the others realized what he already had. Draco was gone... and so was the girl they had come to rescue.

They had failed.

As Harry's glowering eyes raised from the black, gold-inlaid wood, they met those of Edgar. "I'm sorry," he forced out, sounding hoarse. "She's gone. She- she went after him."

"What?" Edgar asked quietly, sounding quite confused.

"Imperius," Ernie Macmillan replied, "I remember how it looked from Fourth Year, with Moody- the fake Moody. Her eyes were all... cloudy. She ran after him, Ed."

"Shit," the older boy said, wiping a hand over his face in a gesture that reminded Harry a bit of Dumbledore. "Shit, shit... where does it go? It's a Vanishing Cabinet, right? Not too many of those left around."

"Only one I know of," Brandon supplied after a moment, "Knockturn Alley. My Da' says he saw one in there once, in Borkin and Hurk's, or somethin'."

"Borgin and Burke's," Harry corrected absentmindedly, remembering the broken cabinet from his own misfortune-ridden trip before his second year. "I've seen it there, too. Don't ask. We know where to send Dumbledore."

"But they'll be gone before we can get there," Michael pointed out, "Even if he can't Apparate yet, the girl's a Seventh-year, right? She can probably Side-Along."

"Yeah, she can," Edgar muttered, and all hope seemed to leave him. "I... why was she... why's it smell like that?"

Harry knew exactly why. Just as he'd done with Mandy Brocklehurst, Draco was using her for sex. A part of him had thought it was just Crabbe and Goyle that were doing the actual work there, but apparently not. "Don't think about it too much, Ed," he said quietly, "You know it's not by choice. The Imperius Curse is tough."

Edgar nodded, looking morose, then turned and slowly shuffled from the room. "You guys head out, too. Don't let anyone else in here, don't let anyone touch anything. Nothing at all. Not until either Dumbledore or Madam Bones is here. Understand?"

The others nodded as they followed him out, taking up positions flanking the door, two on each side and two across the hall, standing and fidgeting nervously. "I'm going to get Dumbledore here as soon as I can. Just let me be."

The others nodded, leaving Harry to slump tiredly against the closed door as his eyes closed. "Lilith, I need you to go to Dumbledore right now. Tell him I need him as quickly as he can get here. Fourth floor, South Hall... classroom fifteen, just outside. Then you'll want to get Madam Pomfrey to give Edgar Wallpole something for nightmares, probably. Isabella was taken by Draco Malfoy, and I'm not the only witness this time. See if he'll bring vials for memories."

"On it, Master. I'll be in his office in... two minutes. I'll need to recharge today or tomorrow, phasing through that many walls is tiring."

"Got it. Thank you, Lilith. You're a godsend."

"God didn't send for me, you did, Master," she reminded him, a twinkle of almost sad laughter finishing the thought as the mental connection closed.

"Dumbledore's on his way," Harry murmured, not bothering to open his eyes.

For three minutes, the others began whispering about what strange powers Harry must possess, heedless of talking literally around him, to be able to summon the Headmaster without so much as uttering an incantation, before the aged wizard himself appeared in a flash of flame, his arm raised high with a certain Phoenix attached to it firmly. "Thank you, my friend," he said, voice old and just as tired as Harry felt, "Now, please go and deliver the message to Poppy. Thank you."

Looking into the Headmaster's clear blue eyes reminded Harry once more of how old Dumbledore truly was, and for the first time, he empathized very strongly with his sense of responsibility. It was... exhausting, being the one in charge of other's safety and happiness. He had never felt that more than at that exact moment, after a failure of such magnitude.

"Tell me what has happened, please," Dumbledore said quietly, not only to Harry, but to the whole group, most of whom were too awed to be speaking to him directly.

He barely had to say a word, for which Harry was grateful, before Dumbledore asked to be shown inside. Harry did so, and the others once more stayed in the hallway as he and the wizened man entered the room once more. The air still tingled with pent-up energy and the smell of sex, but Dumbledore did not seem perturbed. Harry, for his part, was finding it uncomfortably homey, as it was a smell that lingered strongly in his loaned chambers these days.

He did not want to associate that sort of comfort with Malfoy.

Dumbledore's old wand, long and slender with its three strange bulbs, came out of his sleeve slowly, and it moved through the air with equal speed, smoothly, gracefully, in a way that almost made Harry burn with envy were he not so impressed with Dumbledore's knowledge and breadth of magic. It took about five minutes before the entire scene was playing out in real time, from a few minutes before Harry opened the door, to after he'd chivvied everyone out and told them he would send for the Headmaster. Then Dumbledore sighed, shaking his long hair as he strode over to the Cabinet itself, and cast more spells with whispered incantations and a look of intense concentration over it.

"This was a means to assassinate me," Dumbledore eventually said into the quiet room, startling Harry, who had been concentrating on what the Headmaster was doing, instead. "Young Mr. Malfoy has been given a mission by his master this year, you see, to do just that. He was... oddly reluctant. I suspect that he will be less so in the future, and I fear for Miss Ross' health where he is going, but there is, unfortunately, little I can do. You know where the other end is."

Harry nodded, and repeated the shop's name.

Dumbledore nodded too, "Just so. Which means that, for the time being, Mr. Malfoy and Miss Ross are beyond our reach. Mr. Borgin is... a reluctant follower of Voldemort, but a follower nonetheless. They are already gone from there, I am certain of it. Yet there is hope."

"I don't see it, frankly, sir," Harry said quietly, slumping onto a chair and putting his chin in his hands.

Dumbledore continued looking not at him, but at the Cabinet as he slowly walked around it, his wand still moving idly, "For one, when the Death Eaters use this as a means to enter the school, they will soon find themselves in a bit of a pickle. Many spells are hard to cast underwater, and the Merpeople under the lake are most happy to store items safely for me for a time. They particularly dislike Wizards who attempt to hurt them with magic. I believe my old friend Murkus will be happy to protect both our people and her own, don't you?"

Harry snorted. Drowning- it was impossible to cast a Bubble-head Charm while already underwater, as it needed a verbal component and could not be cast entirely silently- was a terrible way to go, and the Merpeople would likely be very happy to finish the job if that didn't work. "What about Apparition though, sir?"

"Ah, they will still appear within the Grounds, you see," Dumbledore said with an almost cruel smirk as he glanced at Harry. "There is more, of course, that we can do. They will not try to come through tonight, they will wait a few days to be sure I am not watching. I will replicate the Cabinet for now, without a linked one, so that any spies who know it is here will believe we have left it in place.

"As well, Mr. Malfoy's reluctance to take on this mission, despite it being offered entirely as a means of restoring his family to his master's good graces, bodes ill for Voldemort's entire agenda. If his 'most loyal' friends and allies are treated as harshly as I have heard they are lately, then what is to stop him from doing so to the next Death Eater who has a minor setback?

"And let us not forget, Harry, that he is still unaware of your new ally. Young Miss Lilith- forgive me, Miss Sendai- may be the key to returning Isabella to us sooner rather than later. May I... borrow her, for a day or two?"

The thought of the Headmaster 'making use' of his Succubus filled Harry with a sort of strange nausea, but he strongly suspected that unless she assumed a male appearance, he wouldn't want to do so in that way, so Harry shrugged, "If she doesn't mind, of course."

"Of course," Dumbledore agreed, as if that was a given. "I have a few ideas. I take it you and your friends have been searching the castle thoroughly?"

Harry nodded, not seeing the need to hide it.

"Excellent. Please urge them to be careful, and if you come across Miss Frobisher or her kidnapper, please be careful, and seek out aid from the staff as quickly as possible."

"Of course, Sir," Harry said with a deferential nod.

"Then I shall bid you good evening. I must alert Madam Bones and Miss Ross' parents as to the change in situation. I will be discrete about your aid, unless you wish otherwise...?"

"No, please don't tell them it was me," Harry said at once, sudden panic in his voice. He didn't want the credit. All they'd done was make Isabella harder to find, and gotten proof it was Draco. That wasn't helpful at all, not really.

Midnight came and went, and no other news arrived until the last of the searchers had gone to bed. They would try it again the next weekend, as Hermione had suggested, with new teams and new areas to search, or at least switched-up ones. They would keep trying. There was no giving up, because losing anyone, especially one of Ginny's friends, was not an option. They had to find her.

No one wanted to admit that they'd been so close to rescuing Isabella Ross and then losing her, too.

Especially not Harry, who had gone to bed alone for the first time in half a year or more.

Which left Hermione, Ron, and Ginny in the common room of the suite at nearly one in the morning. Lyra had gone to 'make her rounds', gathering sustenance and supplies for her home dimension from the castle's increasingly horny populace. The oldest of the three was already pouring over her lists of people and maps of the castle, charting out the optimal way to search the area from top to bottom once more.

Ginny and Ron had finished their homework, and were deeply involved in a late-night game of Wizard's Chess that, for once, Ron was losing.

"That's cheating," he muttered as Ginny loosened her blouse another button and leaned forward while her brother contemplated his next move. His Queen was at risk, and she was... teasing him!

And it was working, he could barely think about the game, even with his best friend and lover right there, and...

Hermione snorted, looking up from her papers to glance at the board, then rolled her eyes, "Oh, just suck his cock and get it over with, slut."

Both of the Weasley siblings looked up at her, mouths dropping open in shock. Hermione huffed, dropped the quill she was holding into its holder, then looked over at them, "You two have been giving each other looks for weeks, and I watched you do it, remember? I know Ron will get his dick wet in anything remotely sexy, and Ginny's a kinky slut. So just get it over with, you don't have to hold back on my account."

"Yeah, but-" Ron murmured, "I mean... I was just, uh, waiting for... for you."

"Well I'm too tired tonight, as much as I'd like a good cum," Hermione replied, rubbing her eyes, "so if you want a blow-job Ginny will have to do it. Besides, I can see her salivating from here."

The brother and sister shared a look, and Ron had to acknowledge his girlfriend was right. His sister was literally drooling, almost panting now, her eyes strangely dilated. Her nipples, visible beneath her white blouse as she wore no bra these days, were already hard little nubs. "I guess you'd better put your mouth to use then, Gin," he growled after a moment, standing up just long enough to drop his trousers to his ankles and sit back down with his legs open, not bothering to kick out of even one leg.

Ginny didn't say anything, but she stood up and used a leg to push her chair back, then pulled the coffee table they had been playing across a bit further away from him before stepping around the side and going to her knees. "I... want to," she whispered, looking up at Ron, "I like having your long, hard dick in my mouth, Ron. I want to taste your cum. I want Hermione to watch me suck you off."

"Do it, then, Gin-Gin," he said quietly, "I want to see what you look like with a mouthful of my jizz."

Hermione grinned slightly, standing herself as the younger girl reached out a pair of almost dainty but well-calloused hands to cup her brother's hairy sack and grip his long shaft, kneading the first gently and giving the other a long, slow stroke. She sat down next to him on the loveseat, facing the siblings with one knee bent beneath her, and hiked up her skirt. She, like Ginny, rarely wore knickers anymore. They just got in the way. She didn't touch herself, not yet, but wanted them both to know she could with a moment's notice.

They both sent her a look, as if questioning her intentions, but Hermione only looked back at each of them evenly in turn.

Taking her silence and coming over to watch as the permission it was, Ginny eventually leaned in from the side, her tongue extended, to lap at the top of Ron's balls, tugging on the soft, hanging flesh to make his nuts jiggle in her hands, jumping up and down off her palm while her other hand stroked back downward at an agonizing, snail-like pace. Ron groaned, his hips shifting to give her more access, and his right hand went to Ginny's open collar, fiddling with it, rolling it in his fingers.

His sister didn't take the cue, and left it on but wide open but for the last two buttons, and instead finished covering his scrotum with her tongue before lapping at the testicles themselves, rolling each one around on her long tongue before sucking them gently into her mouth.

Hermione's grin had faded, but her body was filled with a rising level of lust. She would be touching herself soon, but for now, she would relax and enjoy the show. She wanted them to do it... wanted them, her best friends and lovers, to debase themselves for her. To engage in secret perversions... to be like her. To want to shag each other.

Somehow, if they did it, it would be okay for her to engage in the same behavior... right?

"That's it," she whispered as Ginny let his second testicle pop from her mouth, "Lick his dick, get him all nice and wet for your mouth, Ginny..."

The long tongue snaked back and forth, tracing a wave-form over her brother's dick as it moved inexorably upward, the frequency unchanging as it stroked left and right, then circled Ron's deep purple head, swollen and engorged further than Hermione could remember seeing it, again and again before her still-pumping hand pulled him down toward her chest, and she kept going, now licking the more sensitive, less-often touched back of the shaft with the same side-to-side motion. "Fuck," Ron moaned, his head falling back, "You're such a tease, you slag..."

"You love it, Big Brother," Ginny whispered around her tongue.

He grunted as she reached his base, her fingers and palm sliding now along just the underside since her chin interfered with a regular stroke, and the hand that had been on Ginny's collar moved up to her lips. His thumb slid past into her mouth, giving it a tug from the side, and she whimpered, her own eyes closing in growing passion as she let the bottom of her tongue drag up the long cock. "You wanf me to puff if inf mah mouff?" she asked around his thumb, sitting back on her haunches, Hermione all but forgotten as she looked up her brother's hungry eyes. His cock twitched in her hand, and Ginny grinned, pulling away and out of his reach so his hand was free to join hers on his dick, covering and guiding her as she jerked him off slowly. "You have to do something for me, then, Ron."

"Whassat?" he slurred, eyes locked on the V of flesh he could see still beneath her blouse, the same one she'd been using to actually beat him at chess a few minutes before.

"You have to eat my cunt until I beg you to make me cum," Ginny whispered, "Like a good boy does to the girl he's shagging."

Hermione could tell it was the first time either had used that word, shagging, in reference to the other, for it sent a thrill through both their bodies that made them shiver. Circe, yes, I want to see that, she thought half-deliriously, I want to see Ron's long cock spearing his sister's tight pussy while I ride his face, and swap Harry's cum with our mouths. Oh, that- that's so good, yeah...

The image had been enough to coax Hermione into letting a hand fall across her clit, slapping it lightly as it came down. At once, her palm started pressing it into her body and moving in tiny little half-circles, mooning back and forth while two fingers at once delved into her sopping channel. Meanwhile, Ginny stood up once more and pushed her school skirt to her ankles, stepping out of it, then up onto the couch and planted a foot on either side of her brother's hips. She then leaned over, using one hand on the couch and the other in his bright orange hair to guide his mouth between her legs. "Yes, that's it, brother, lick me so good. Hnmm... that's so good, Ron..."

Hermione's hands started moving faster, actually masturbating in earnest as her boyfriend's skilled tongue- as good as Harry's, if less practiced- stroked up and down his little sister's folds in turn, sliding through one valley, then the other, moving back and forth from the inside to the outside at random, switching to left and right without warning.

Then she moaned, her hips bucking against Ron's face as his tongue, nearly as long as her own and a lot thicker, shot out and straight up. "Oh! Oh, Merlin! It's- my brother's in me! My brother's tongue is inside my body!"

Hermione nearly climaxed right there, but not quite. Instead, she had her first one when Ron pulled away, looking over at her instead with his face glistening with his sister's fluids. "Do you like that, Hermione? Watching me go down on her?"

"So much," she whispered, "You can eat that little pussy all night. Doesn't she taste delicious?"

Ron, for his part, had to agree. "Like apple pie. My favorite."

Ginny, still standing above him though her legs were shaking now, whispered, "My pussy is my brother's favorite," then shoved her pelvis against his face again.

But Ron backed off, grinning, and stopped wanking for a moment to slide his hands up her slender, pale and freckled legs, "Ah, ah. I said I'd eat you, but I didn't say it'd be your way, slag. Beg for it. Beg for my tongue on you."

Hermione could not stifle a grin. Ginny didn't mind being told what to do by Harry, or even Lyra. In fact, she reveled in being Harry's 'Pet', and loved submitting to him. But her older brother? Not so much. The glare she sent him would have made a lesser man quiver in fear and rescind the command at once.

But her boyfriend only looked up, his hands circling her thighs, and didn't say a word.

"Please," Ginny whispered, thrusting toward him again, but not quite connecting as he moved his head back almost leisurely. "Please, Ron... please eat my pussy. I wanna cum. I want you to make me cum with your tongue."

"You said I gotta earn it? Well... so do you. Get down."

Hermione's eyes widened. Did he mean... that?

But no. Ginny seemed to understand, for she hopped off the couch almost eagerly. The moment her dainty little feet, still clad in the school's uniform stockings, hit the floor he twisted on the couch, putting his head on Hermione's bent legs, and reached for his sister.

Ginny grinned, throwing a leg over him, nearly clipping the older girl in the process, and gave her rump a little shake in Hermione's face as if to show her, "This is the pussy he's eating now, not yours. You had your chance."

Then she dropped down, situating herself with her breasts pressed against her brother's stomach, and twisted her pelvis down. She was already sucking on him, one hand pumping his base with two fingers around it, the other kneading his sack again as far as Hermione could tell through her head, and bobbing along the rest with her throat and mouth in equal measure. He must be at least seven inches inside her, Hermione's mind told her, running calculations comparing her lover's length and the depth of his sister's head and throat without conscious thought.

Ron, for his part, looked upward at Hermione and grinned, giving a pointed look to Ginny's pink, dripping petals, then reaching up with both hands to pull her arse cheeks apart before saying, "If you want a piece, I'll share," then lifting his head from her leg to take another long, slow lick, thrusting his tongue inside and bobbing himself after he finished.

"Fuck her pussy with your tongue, Ron," Hermione moaned, "Make your sister cum on your face."

A snort to Hermione's left made her look over to find Harry, still looking emotionally spent but slowly stroking his own erection, as he watched the others from his bedroom door. He did not make any motion to join them, but crossed half the room to get a better view of Ginny swallowing Ron's dick for a minute or so, then circled it again to look at her other end. Ginny came first, gushing outward to splatter against Hermione's own genitals, drenching Ron's face and hair, but he did not relent, still lashing at her with his tongue even as his own hips began bucking and thrusting into Ginny's throat, deeper and harder than before.

Hermione climaxed only after Ron's motions had dropped off on both sides, and the two siblings still lay there, Ginny on top still, panting.

Only after Harry stepped forward and ordered his Pet to do something did she realized Ginny still had Ron's dick in her mouth. "Don't swallow it, Pet. Hold it. Hold your brother's nasty cum in your slutty mouth until I tell you you can swallow it. Ron, I want you to keep tasting your sister's juices."

Both had jumped the moment Harry spoke, neither having realized he was there, but soon they were sitting on the couch next to Hermione, who was still diddling herself slowly, red-faced.

"You know I like it when you make each other feel good," Harry told them sternly, "but damn it, next time I don't want to walk in when you're about done. Warn me so I can watch. Shit."

The siblings shared a confused, somewhat lost look, and Ron murmured, "S- Sorry, mate. We, kinda thought you, uh, wanted to be left alone today. You... well, this whole thing's hitting you pretty hard."

"I know," Harry said, suddenly sounding and looking truly exhausted as he slumped a bit, but didn't stop pumping his massive member, "but I've been trying to get you guys to do that in front of Hermione for weeks, and now I missed half the show. Whatever, I guess... hope you guys had fun. Good night."

"Wait, Harry," Hermione called, "Do you- want us to take care of you? I will!"

"No, it's fine," he replied over his shoulder, "I really am tired. I think maybe I just caught your lust, like Lilith or something, and it woke me u- up."

The last was said through a sudden yawn..

The last thing he said before closing his bedroom door again was, "Oh, Ginny, you have to share with Hermione before you can swallow."

The bookish girl looked at her best friend in surprise and pleasure as Ginny hopped up at once, passed her brother's still-bare legs, and slid onto Hermione's lap, straddling her. Then she grabbed her head and brought her in for a searing kiss, her tongue practically shoveling Ron's semen and her saliva into Hermione's mouth.

After several minutes, Ginny murmured, "Now I'm going to bed, too. I better sleep in the dorms tonight. I'm sure everyone will be worried since Vicky's been gone so long and I don't sleep there often."

"Er, you might wanna get some clothes first," Ron reminded her as her hand hit the door.

Ginny glanced down her body, then at the clock, and shrugged, "Nah, no one's up. Who cares, anyway?"

Then she was gone, her clothing still on the floor, her brother rock-hard once more, and Hermione now more awake than she had been in at least an hour. She wasted no time in spinning herself, mirroring Ginny's former position, and then kissing her boyfriend, giving him a little taste of himself too, even while she sank onto his erection with a pleased sigh.

But as much as Harry wanted to sleep, he could not. He rarely needed to after all, not anymore. So he was left there to stew, idly masturbating to the image of the Weasleys, his girlfriend and best friend, sixty-nining on his couch, and wonder what he could have done differently to stop Malfoy from getting away.

Wrack his brain as he might, Harry could think of nothing except not miss with either of his spells. A year or two before, that might have been enough to send him into a spiral of self-recrimination. Now, he felt he was mature enough to realize that any confrontation is rife with unpredictability, and that even the best can be overcome by circumstance.

Was that not what Voldemort had claimed was the cause of Harry's survival up until after the Third Task of the Triwizard? Luck, chance, circumstance?

If a wizard as skilled, knowledgeable, and powerful as Voldemort was could be brought low by such things, could use them as a public reason for failure, then what was the shame in admitting that he, Harry, could be done in by the same things? He was only human, after all. More or less. It was... unfair, to expect himself to be better than everyone else. Unreasonable.

That realization helped, but did not fully dull his anger.

Thus, when Lyra slipped into the room nearly two hours later, an hour before sunrise, he was still wide awake. She used a long, thin finger to idly scoop the leavings of the only boy she'd actually sucked off that night off her cheek and into her mouth with some relish before absorbing it fully, as her body shifted from Lyra's into the same slender, beautiful red-haired woman that she had used to bring him comfort several times before. "Hello, son," the visage of Lily Potter said quietly, "I've missed you."

He looked up suddenly, dark circles under his eyes, which were red and filled with unshed tears despite actively stroking an erection still. "M- Mom? No... you're Lilith. Hi."

But she stepped forward, putting her hands gently on his shoulders as he moved to sit up on the edge of the bed, "Today, I am Lily Potter," she cooed, then brought his head forward to rest against her flat stomach. "I am here to help my son. It's okay, Harry. Mommy is here, and she loves you. You didn't do anything wrong, you did everything right."

"It still hurts," he whispered, his hands moving up to circle her waist and pull her a bit closer, then tucking his head against her more comfortably.

"I know," she replied just as softly, moving to run her hands through his messy, raven hair. "It will, for a while, but time heals all wounds. Spending time with those you love will help, as it always does."

Lilith was overjoyed. She loved giving Harry advice, of course, loved helping him in any way. Not because of the Contract, but because he was her friend, and increasingly, was growing to love him, too, as more than just that. But this, this comforting position she found herself in once more, felt strangely real, like she belonged there, in that moment, to hold and help her son through difficulties that no one else, not even his father, could.

But she wasn't his mother, not really. She was a Succubus.

Yet, Lilith felt that some part of Lily might have been guiding and helping her. Maybe it was just the memories of her, the precious few, that she could glean from her Master's mind. Maybe it was the woman herself, come from beyond the grave to do what she could. Lilith did not know. But she knew her Master needed his mother, and so that is what he got.

She gave herself over completely, letting whatever happened happen, consciously and fully.

After her cute little dress was soaked with his tears, Harry eventually pulled away, wiping his eyes, and looked up at her for a a few seconds and wiped them again. "Thanks," he said hoarsely, "I needed that, Lilith."

"I'm not Lilith right now," she heard herself saying, "I am Lily Potter. And I want my son to be happy. Can you smile for me, my precious boy?"

He tried, he really did, but it was a wane, small thing.

"That's it, darling," Lily said quietly, then pushed him down, guiding him back to the bed, "Lie down, I'm here. Come on, scooch up."

He slid over awkwardly, but still blushed as Lily's dress disappeared, and he was presented with his mother's form, entirely nude, for the first time since he'd recognized the woman's appearance. She slid up next to him still, propping herself on on elbow, and asked quietly, "What? My boy wants mommy to be uncomfortable?"

"Er, n- no," he stammered, "It's just..."

"Hermione shagged Daddy," Lily reminded him quietly, "And Ron and Ginny will shag before the year's end, I'm certain. But Harry can't have his, too?"

"Harry gets plenty," he shot right back, one mouth quirking upward. He was honestly very tired, but knew that sleep was a long way off, possibly days, yet. And he was always ready for sex, no matter what he might tell the others. "I... I never thought about doing that with you, though... mom."

"Oh?" Lily looked genuinely surprised, "That's funny, because Mommy thinks about her boy's cock all the time. It's really big, you know, even bigger than Daddy's. I bet it'd feel really good."

Harry shook his head, his expression changing from bemused amusement mingled with lust to serious for a moment, "Lily... Lilith. Are you serious about this? You want me to shag you as my mother?"

She nodded once, coyly, and put a finger to her lower lip in that way she knew drove men wild.

"If I didn't know you were Lilith, I'd hesitate," Harry growled, then snaked a hand beneath her and pulled her torso closer. His lips seized on one of her fat nipples at once, suckling at it as he must have done as a child, mouthing and teasing it with his tongue, while his hand slithered down her flat stomach to rest beneath and between her legs. One rose to give him room, while her hand reached to touch his throbbing erection, finger-walking up and down a few times before stroking it with a long, deep, but light touch. That didn't last long.

Soon, she was over him, their mouths entangled, her hair draping his face, and Lily was reaching between them to guide him upward, not that he needed it. Harry's cock was already at her entrance, pulsing and pounding for entry, as if it was dying to return to where it was created. "That's it, my love, my boy," she whispered, "make Mommy full..."

Harry's hand on her breast felt exquisite, and his other on her rump, holding her steady as he drove home to the very bottom of her depths and beyond made Lily Potter squeal in sudden ecstasy as her body, unused to such penetration, at first rejected the invader and then tried to suck him in deeper still.

"That's it, Harry, fuck Mommy good..."

Harry stroked a few times, then threw both hands around her waist and heaved, hauling both upright with prodigious strength, then kept going until he was over her, instead. Then his arms moved to her ankles, lifting both to land near her head, his cock still buried balls-deep. "You want me to fuck you, Mommy? Okay, I will... but Daddy will be lonely, he'll never satisfy you again!"

The part of her that might as well have been Lily Potter wanted to protest, that she loved James Potter. That part was quickly silenced as her son's great penis left her body almost completely, then hammered downward, smashing her entire form into the mattress. And again, and again, and harder, faster. He was filling her so completely, breaking past the walls of her cervix and into her womb with every single thrust, taking out his frustration, his rage, his anger with the world as it was right now, all on his poor mother's abused little pussy.

And she loved it.

Harry did not make it to classes that day, and Lilith, even as herself, could not recall how many times he'd made his mother climax with the needy, sexual ravishment, but it was one of the better nights of her life thus far on Earth. But even she was walking a bit funny the next day.

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