This is Me Trying

*TRIGGER WARNING – SUICIDE, MURDER AND EXTREAM VIOLENCE

Becky Hesleden woke up in the room of requirement next to Harry Potter and cursed her fangirl tendencies when it came to Quidditch captains. Who would have ever thought the Boy-Who-Lived would be so fucking boring, and so bad in bed!

It shouldn't have been possible! I mean, this wizard had faced Dragons, and Dementors, and—you know—Voldemort. He also looked ridiculously good on a Firebolt as he performed daring dives. He truly seemed to command the sky when he was out on the Quidditch pitch. And yet, put him in a private setting with a witch, and he seemed to freeze right up when it came to conversation, and the sex was best described as awkward.

I was just about to get out of the bed the room had provided when he rolled over and looked at me. His eyes were a little unfocused from sleepiness, but he quickly fumbled for his glasses, finding them on the floor, and looked back at me with an expression that was best described as a deer in the headlights. I opened my mouth to tell him I had to go when he beat me to it.

"So that was fun," he commented, his hand nervously massaging his neck. I couldn't believe I had always found him adorable in his shyness and awkwardness, but that only took a witch so far. Seriously, did he know how to talk about anything besides Quidditch? And who drools so much when kissing? Yuck!

"If you say so," I agreed, and sat up to look for my clothes. He gave a little chuckle behind me that sounded nervous, but I couldn't be bothered to look at him to confirm that. I was so ashamed of myself and my sloppy standards.

"So, I'll probably see you around later," he murmured. I glanced over, adjusting my Ravenclaw tie around my neck.

"Or not," I said with a shrug. He nodded and then all but fled the room. Pathetic!

I had just finished fastening the last button on my school robes when a House Elf popped into the room. In his long, spindly fingers, he held a scroll, which he unfurled with a flourish before beginning to read aloud.

"Dobby is most happy to tell you, on this day, the 3rd of November in the year 1996, that you has entered a magically binding contract with the Great Harry Potter Sir, becoming the 12th wife in his Harem. As per the rules of the contract, by freely having sexual relations with the Great Harry Potter Sir, you has agreed to the conditions set by the contract. Any wizard you lets touch you, who is not the Great Harry Potter Sir, will meet a most unpleasant end, and witches are only allowed with your 'husbands' approval.

"What the fuck! I haven't agreed to anything!" I asserted to the clearly Mad House Elf.

"Did you chooses to have sexual relations freely with the Great Harry Potter Sir?" the House Elf inquired in a reasonable manner.

I scoffed and said, "If you can call what we did sexual relations, then I suppose I did."

"You will not be insulting the Great Harry Potter Sir," the Mad House Elf said to me, pointing a threatening finger at me.

"He cannot do this to people," I declared angrily. "I'll go straight to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"The Great Harry Potter Sir is not involved in this contract. His greatness surpasses such matters. Dobby's duty is to safeguard his almost-Master. Plus, you will get the same response as Susan Bones did when she approached her aunt. Magical contracts are binding and cannot be broken," he informed me cheerfully.

"Your Mad!" I told him.

"Dobby is not Mad. Dobby is a good House Elf who will protect all the interests and property of the Great Harry Potter Sir!" the Mad House Elf told me.

Later that day, I found myself in an abandoned classroom on the third floor. I had never been to this part of the castle before because no classes were held in this forgotten and dusty area. This classroom was the only place clean on the whole floor.

A happy and incredibly bossy Hermione Granger was walking back and forth at the head of the room, even as she deftly flipped through several parchments in her hand. Given that I was informed I was number 12, it was clear we were one short of our group. To my surprise, witches from every House were present. But my shock reached its peak when Professor McGonagall entered, choosing a seat at the back—right where I was sitting.

"Professor McGonagall? Are you…?" I whispered in disbelief, certain that I must be mistaken. The older witch pursed her lips in displeasure, and I was relieved to see a typical reaction from the strict Transfiguration Professor.

"Eleven," she declared crisply, her voice carrying the unmistakable authority of a seasoned Hogwarts Professor. My mouth dropped open in disbelief. I had so many questions, and yet I wasn't sure I even wanted to know the answers to any of them.

The meeting started then, and the bossy Know-It-All at the front took it upon herself to introduce me to the assembled witches. The looks ranged from welcoming to disinterest, but I didn't see any trace of jealousy. 'They must find him as boring as I did,' I thought to myself wryly.

"Given the circumstances, we're going to need to adjust our schedules again," Hermione stated, her voice carrying the unmistakable tone of authority and organization. "I'll take care of it. Expect your updated schedules by tomorrow afternoon." She paused, looking around at everyone. "We need to stay on top of this ladies. Staying organised and on track is paramount." She finished with a determined nod, her gaze steady and serious.

"How about you don't," I suggested aloud to the sixth-year Gryffindor. The entire room of witches swivelled their heads to look at me in disbelief.

"Are you suggesting that because you're a seventh-year Ravenclaw, you can make better schedules than me?" The fizzy-haired harridan almost shrieked at me with the pitch and look of an excitable chipmunk. "I assure you, my organisational skills are unparalleled!" she added, her voice still high with emotion. I simply blinked back at her and then looked around the room, looking for a single sane face. I found none.

"No. I am straightforwardly saying I don't care to spend time with him," I stated. A hushed murmur rippled among some of the witches, but Hermione Granger regarded me thoughtfully for a moment before nodding in understanding.

"Professor McGonagall operates under the same arrangement," she informed me, and I frowned in confusion. "You'll only be incorporated into the sex schedule. It's much more straightforward," the girl said with a frown, as if I had taken some of her fun away.

"Are you all being drugged?" I asked and looked to see the reactions of everyone. Once again, I was met by various expressions of disbelief and an appalled one by the elderly Professor.

"I would hate to miss out on my Harry time," Luna Lovegood said dreamily. "He loves it when I talk about the Crumple-Horned Snorkack," she declared, as if sharing a delightful secret. I just rolled my eyes, knowing that witch was as loony as her personality suggested, so I wasn't surprised by her acceptance of the situation.

"As the latest addition, we believe it's essential for you to spend time getting to know Harry better. After all, he is your husband, and it's important that we all feel at ease with him," Hermione told me, her tone authoritative and commanding.

"I'm good. Thanks!" I replied with heavy sarcasm.

"I'll take her place," Ginny Weasley declared at once.

"That is hardly fair," Daphne Greengrass retorted in the coldest voice I had ever heard.

"Yeah. You had him all to yourself when Minny couldn't spend time with him during the day," Tracy Davis added with affront.

"Whose Minny?" I asked, and then it struck me as I turned to look at the Professor, who was narrowing her eyes at me in displeasure. 'Really?' I thought. I felt like I was sitting next to Professor Snape instead of my transfiguration Professor.

"I don't care who spends time with him. How about you all take turns? Just leave me out of it," I told everyone.

"Alright." Hermione agreed with another nod and started writing notes on her parchment. "Your sex schedule begins tonight. Is there a particular location you'd prefer for this?" As she finished her question, all eyes in the room once again turned to me.

"How about someone else take that as well?" I suggested, hopefully.

"Do you mean to say that you'd like someone to join you and Harry?" Hermione questioned, her tone serious and her gaze steady.

"No!" I snapped at the clearly Mad witch and was shocked to see how many of the others looked crestfallen at my declaration. Even Professor McGonagall wore an expression of quiet disappointment. I shivered in disgust. "I am going to tell you people this just once, so listen closely. I do not want to spend time with Harry Potter. I do not want to have sex with Harry Potter. I want to get on with my life and ignore that any of this is happening."

"Ah, per'aps she eez frightened," Fleur Delacour mused in her lilting French accent. "I, too, was 'esitant to share at ze outset, if you all recall." I wondered how the French Veela was even here. It made no sense; she didn't even go to this school.

"True," many of the witches agreed with nods, and I facepalmed in exasperation.

"That's it. I am going to start taking drugs. You all clearly already do!" I declared, believing that anything I said would simply be ignored by these Mad witches.

"What you do in your own time is your business, but please do not tell Harry. It will only upset him," Ginny Weasley told me.

"Really?" I said with a victorious smirk, but then I shrunk back into my seat at all the hostile glares aimed my way.

"If you upset Harry, we will hurt you," Susan Bones declared, her voice a steely whisper. The weight of her words settled heavily in the room, and I couldn't help but feel a shiver of unease as I once again met the eyes of the other witches. Shocked that I was being threatened by the niece of the head of the DMLE, I wondered when she had accepted the brainwashing of the group.

"Okay," I conceded to all the faces. "I won't upset Harry. But can I have a few days before I have…" I hesitated, adjusting my words as I noticed the deepening frowns. "Get to be with Harry again. I need some time to prepare myself, you know, personal grooming and such," I stated lamely, but many nodded in understanding.

"Does Wednesday work for you?" Hermione inquired, still frowning at me.

"I suppose," I agreed reluctantly.

"Wonderful!" Hermione exclaimed, her mood instantly brightening. "I'll have our updated schedules ready by tomorrow afternoon. Also, it's quite considerate of you to suggest shared time this week in your stead."

"Ah, no worries," I responded with resignation.

"Minnie, why don't you spend today with Harry? I'll let him know that you wish to review his Quidditch strategies for the upcoming year. As the Quidditch captain, I'm certain he'll appreciate your insights. Besides, it's not often that you get to spend time with him outside of the sex schedule," Hermione proposed to the deputy headmistress.

"That would be acceptable, Miss Granger," the Professor concurred with a firm nod. "Inform him to present himself at my office in an hour's time."

"Of course," the know-it-all said pompously. "We're adjourned until our next meeting, everyone."

'Right,' I thought in disgust. If I am going to be forced to do this, I'll need something to dull the edges of reality, to make the unbearable, bearable. A Love Potion seems the most fitting choice for this situation. Unfortunately, the truly potent ones take too long to brew, and time was simply not on my side.

I quickly decided to place an order with Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, sure they would have something that could aid me at the current time. In the meantime, I'll start on the Amortentia Potion and somehow convince one or more of these dimwits to provide me with essence of Harry Potter. After all, desperate times call for desperate measures.

For the next two months, I dosed myself with various Love Potions, just trying to get myself through the tedium of being around Harry Potter, and found I had to brew them stronger and stronger just to get through it. Even having sex with someone you Love doesn't necessarily make it good, and Harry Potter had no skill whatsoever. He had no idea what a clitoris was or even that a witch was capable of orgasm. After my Love was asleep, I would have to take myself to the bathroom and finish the job, knowing I wasn't allowed to upset my 'husband.'

In the recesses of my mind, I seethed with growing resentment towardss those bloody, stupid witches. If only they weren't part of the equation, I could impart the knowledge he so desperately required. Unfortunately, no amount of instruction could give my Love a personality that would be interesting. Yet, there was a universal acceptance of what a witch would live with when it came to the wizard she Loved. A boring sex life was not one of those things.

That decided, I knew what I had to do. Those bitches—yes, that's the term I'll use—needed to die. Once they were out of the picture, I could finally impart the knowledge he so desperately lacked. Surely, he will be grateful and not at all upset.

I stopped to consider for a moment if my plans were taking things a bit far, but then I remembered the superior expressions worn by Ginny and Hermione, who often liked to invite themselves into other people's allotted times. I knew in that moment that those two, especially, had whatever was coming to them.

Enough was enough. I was sick of sharing anyway. Seriously, people, is true love dead or what? What the fuck is wrong with one witch and one wizard fucking into an eternity of happiness!

It took me a while to decide how to start. Organising this—well, let's call it an 'unfortunate accident'—required finesse. The last thing I needed was for Harry or his group of psychos to suspect foul play. Being labeled a murderer was not part of my grand plan. And then, fate intervened. One day, while Harry and I were in the room of requirement again, we stumbled upon an ancient copy of 'Hogwarts: A History.'

"Be careful with that. A lot of the things in here are cursed," he warned me. He may be boring, but my Love was very good at Defense Against the Dark Arts. "Pity, though. Hermione would adore that. I'm certain it contains information the current one lacks."

"I'm sure there are a lot of people who would like it," I replied with a touch of annoyance.

"Oh, that's right. You're a Ravenclaw," he said, and then blushed, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

"Yes, I am," I said with a grin down at the book, but I walked away, leaving it where it lay.

The following day, Gryffindor faced off against Hufflepuff in a thrilling Quidditch match. I made sure to position myself to be seen by as many people as possible. Hermione Granger, as was often the case, was not present. Not only did she skip dinner that night, but it was also later said that she had not been seen at the Gryffindor after Quidditch party in their common room.

The next day, a school-wide search was made for Hermione. It was another day later that she was discovered in the room of requirement, buried under a mountain of multiplied copies of 'Hogwarts: A History.'

The Headmaster worked tirelessly to reverse the Gemino Curse, and Harry regarded me with speculative but devastated eyes as we stood among some of the other 'wives.'

"Did you tell her this was here?" I asked him before he could voice the accusation I could see on his face. I knew I would have to be more careful in the future.

"I…" Harry began, his voice choked with emotion, and then his eyes widened. "I did mention to her about the books in here, but I also warned her… I warned her that they could be dangerous," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

"She likely believed she could handle any danger on her own," Ginny said with a suitably sad tone, but I could see the anticipation on her face. With Hermione out of the way, she would now become queen bitch.

"The truth was, mate," Harry's redheaded side kick mused, looking emotional himself, even as he scratched his head. "Hermione has always been fiercely independent. She'd've explored every nook and cranny of this room, Gemino Curse or not. It's just in her nature, innit?"

"I suppose," Harry agreed softly, looking close to tears. He gave my hand a squeeze and looked at me with an apology on his face. I simply gave a nod of understanding back.

Several weeks had passed when I happened upon Cho Chang, engrossed in a box of mementos. I sat beside her, my gaze falling upon the array of mementos with a keen interest. I was sure each item held special meaning for her, and the air around us was thick with nostalgia.

"Cedric?" I asked the pretty witch with faux sympathy.

"It's the anniversary of our first kiss," she whispered, tears gathering in her eyes.

"Should you even be thinking about that?" I asked, my voice low and cautious. "I mean, you have Harry now," I reminded her, my eyes narrowing. Her eyes widened in alarm, gazing at me in horror. She then looked around to make sure no one else was about.

"Please don't tell anyone, Becky," she begged, and a tear slid down her pretty face. I smiled at her and worked hard not to make it look feral. After all these years, I wondered if the Sorting Hat had been correct when it said I would do well in Slytherin.

"You loved him a lot, didn't you?" I said, my smile unwavering. She nodded while watching me with worry. "You know," I continued, my voice gentle, "I heard that Mr. Diggory has been trying to collect anything Cedric left behind." I pointed towardss the box on her lap that I could see held letters, a few photos, and a couple trinkets that I was sure were all given to her with love. "Maybe," I suggested softly, "it would be best if you handed him all this stuff." My gaze met hers, and I saw the conflict etched there.

"Oh but…"

"You wouldn't want Harry to find out about this, would you? He may become upset and believe you don't Love him more than you Loved that Hufflepuff boy," I said with a touch of nastiness. I didn't even feel bad that she paled.

"I could write to him if you like. My father is friendly with him at work, and I'm sure he would like to know how his son felt about you before he died in such a horrible way."

Cho paled further. "I…I…" And then she crumbled, bursting into tears.

"You Love Harry, don't you?" I asked with slight accusation in my voice.

"Of… Yes," she managed to utter feebly through her sobs, and I grinned at her again. I think I failed at hiding the malice behind it this time because she recoiled from me.

"You're going to tell people, aren't you?" She whispered, the tears still flowing freely.

"No, I'm not," I replied kindly. "You're simply gathering items to bring comfort to Cedric's family. I believe even the others would agree that it's a kind gesture, should you choose to share your selfless act with them."

"Yes," she said, and started to cry all the harder.

"I'll write that letter tonight and let you know when Mr. Diggory is available to meet with you," I told her. She swallowed hard and gave a slow nod even as she continued to cry. I got up and walked away with a huge smile on my face.

Later that day, Cho Chang was discovered in an unused classroom on the fifth floor, surrounded by remnants of the relationship she had shared with Cedric Diggory. The Professors would not disclose what condition she had been found in, but rumours abounded that she had committed suicide to join her lost love in the next life.

The next incident unfolded with an almost laughable simplicity. Tracy Davis was simply not watching where she was going as she rushed up the stairs towardss the third floor for another of our meetings. She and I had been running late, and I 'accidentally' bumped into her, causing her to stumble as the staircase started to move. Unfortunately, the angle prevented me from using my wand to save the younger witch from the fall, but I did scream impressively and bring many running to witness her last undignified moment as she landed a few floors below us.

Her body was too broken to be saved, and I was comforted by so many people, each of whom swore they had witnessed my valiant attempt to save the other witch, despite the danger to myself. Even my Love was extra attentive and was almost interesting in the bedroom, but that could have also been due to my own adrenaline. I was a touch annoyed, however. I already had the snake I had planned on slipping into her school robes so that it could bite her. Now I didn't know what I would do with it. Maybe let it go in the Forbidden Forest?

Daphne Greengrass became a total nightmare as a result of the death of her best friend, and one night cornered me when I was on my way to Astronomy class.

"You do realise I'm a seventh-year and studying for N.E.W.T.S., don't you?" I inquired of the annoying witch, who was showing emotion for the first time in her life. Somehow her depression and grief had not stopped her from primping to perfection before hunting me down, though.

"I need you to recount the events once more. It makes no sense," Daphne insisted, staying pace with me as I headed towardss my class.

"We have been over it a hundred times," I told her with boredom.

"You don't even care, do you?" she accused, and I shrugged. I really didn't care. As far as I was concerned, these psycho bitches had brought this on themselves. I wouldn't have become addicted to Love Potion if not for them, and now I was determined to have my Love all to myself so I could teach him what a witch really needed in the bedroom. The bedroom, after all, held its own magic, and I intended to be the enchantress who revealed its secrets to him.

"Pity about the personality," I mumbled distractedly.

"How dare you!" Daphne Greengrass exclaimed and brandished her wand at me threateningly.

"Really?" I retorted, my eyebrow arching in mock surprise.

"How dare you say I have a boring personality!" She said indignantly.

"I wasn't talking about you, but now you mention it," I said with another shrug. She sent a stinging hex at me that I quickly deflected.

"Don't," I hissed at her.

"Or what?" she hissed back, superiority etched into her features.

"Or I will dub you the ice queen," I told her with amusement.

"As if you're the first," Daphne Greengrass scoffed, her voice dripping with condescension and antagonism.

"That's because they haven't seen the crown," I informed her, and conjured a glittering crown of ice on top of her head using the hex I had recently been practicing. "Behold, the Queen of Ice," I declared, my lips curving into a wicked smile.

"Funny. Now remove it," Daphne Greengrass commanded, and then started to shiver as the cold from the crown began to seep into her.

"No," I told her. "I like it. It suits you." She tried to take it off her own head, but of course it would budge.

"Take it off! Take it off!" she screeched, her voice rising in panic as the icy grip tightened. I remained unfazed, my resolve unyielding. With a subtle charm, I ensured our conversation remained hidden from prying ears, and her futile struggle against the frosty crown only fueled my satisfaction.

"What will you do for me?" I asked her and once again wondered about the Sorting Hat's offer. I was finding I liked my Slytherin side.

"I won't have you hunted down and killed, you mudblood," she shrieked. I saw red at that and encased the rest of her in ice.

"Technically, I am a half-blood," I told the statue of ice. "My dad is a muggle-born after all," I said, taking a step closer to admire my creation and notice my breath forming frosty clouds in the air. Ice statues had always been fascinating to me, and the muggles who created them were true artists.

"Oh, now the crown can't be seen. Pity," I murmured to myself, my fingers brushing the spot where the crown would still be sitting on her head. "Let's hope it is never removed. A Queen without her crown would be a very sad thing," I commented with a chuckle. Then I realised I was going to be late to my class. I quickly levitated her into a curtained alcove and then ran towardss the stairs that would take me to the Astronomy tower. Pausing, I took a few deep breaths and then made my way up the spiral stairs, getting there just as the class started.

A ghost reportedly found Greengrass just a short time later and let Snape know, but unfortunately no one could figure out a counter to the Ice Growing Hex that was upon the girl. The hex was believed to be slow-acting, so they had no way of determining when the hex had been laid upon her. They also concluded that a cursed item must have been in the ice with her, keeping the hex active.

I was glad to know that her crown was still on her head, keeping her alive and humble, even if it was invisible. The block of ice Queen was returned to her parents. I wondered if they would pull her out at parties as a centre piece. A Queen should always be admired, after all.

As was becoming my habit, I made sure to be in the room of requirement well before Harry could arrive so I could take another dose of my surprisingly delicious Amortentia Potion. It tasted woody and sweet but left a little tingle on the tongue, as if something acidic was in it. It smelled like fresh air, broom sticks, treacle tart, and something with a slight musk.

While waiting for my Love to arrive, I explored the room and found a time-turner. As was usual for the things in the room, it was cursed, but whoever had done it was an idiot because a simple 'Finite' removed whatever the curse had been. I hid it in my bag, knowing it was going to be very useful.

Harry finally arrived, and I smiled at my Love—the kind that concealed secrets and desires. The lingering taste of my second daily dose of 'Amortentia' was still on my tongue. 'At least my Love wasn't on the small side, though; a well-placed engorgio wouldn't go astray either,' I thought as my eyes dropped to his crotch. A wicked thought, but Love Potions had a way of twisting reason. I contemplated suggesting it, but then Ginny Weasley came waltzing in behind him, and I frowned at the hateful bitch who thought she should own Harry right down to his soul.

I let them start their own entertainment and rolled my eyes at the ridiculous squealing noises the witch started to make.

"Aren't you joining in?" Ginny asked between sequels, proving just how fake they were.

"Harry knows I don't mind simply watching," I stated matter-of-factly. She narrowed her eyes at me, but Harry made a grunt of agreement, and she seemed satisfied with that. I knew I needed to come up with something interesting for the demise of Ginny Weasley.

A few more weeks slipped by, and another Quidditch match loomed on the horizon. As always, the 'Wives' of Harry Potter—our official title to only those in the know—gathered to watch. It was decided that it wasn't safe to be in the castle without Harry there to protect us. I rolled my eyes at that.

I had learnt a crucial detail about Quidditch protocol: every player entrusted their brooms to Madam Hooch the night before a match. She meticulously inspected each one, ensuring they were flight-worthy and safe for the game. Once her scrutiny was complete, the brooms awaited their owners in the changing rooms.

I reasoned that Madam Hooch would have the brooms in place no later than an hour before the game, and so, using the time-turner, snuck into the Gryffindor changeroom under a Disillusionment Charm. My target? The sole Cleansweep. With deft fingers, I simply adjusted a few of the twigs on the end of the broom.

I had no idea if it would do anything; I had just heard that the twigs were extremely important to brooms and highly sensitive when stressed. I didn't dare break any, though I was sorely tempted, but I knew that would be much too obvious.

I slipped back into the castle easily, my footsteps silent against the ancient stone floors. I watched as 'the other me' had her companions pause as she went into the fourth-floor witches' lavatory. I knew that 'the other me' was wasting no time in stepping into a cubicle. I went into the restroom then, and with a deft motion, I dispelled the Disillusionment Charm that had cloaked me. I went over to the hard porcelain group of sinks and chose one to wash my hands in. Smiling happily into the mirror, I saw that my black hair was still lying perfectly straight, with barely a strand out of place. I then decided to apply some of the crimson lipstick that I carried in my pocket to give my lips a little extra colour. The door creaked open behind me, and the face of Hannah Abbott appeared in the reflection in the mirror.

"Becky, come on! We're going to be late. You don't need to worry about lipstick now; Harry won't notice while playing Quidditch anyway," the cheerfully friendly Hufflepuff told me, her voice carrying a hint of urgency.

I responded with a roll of my eyes, a gesture that spoke volumes of my exasperation. Turning to face her, I said, "The lipstick isn't for Harry's benefit. I apply it for myself." My voice was calm and composed, reflecting my self-assuredness. I turned back to the mirror, applying the final touch of my crimson lipstick with a sense of satisfaction.

Her laughter rippled through the room, as if my declaration had been a clever jest. "Don't we all?" She quipped, brushing off my seriousness. I pocketed the lipstick and headed over to the dense girl. Despite her stupidity, I liked this younger witch and hoped I wouldn't have to kill her. I was starting to think that if I kept one or two of the pliable ones around, it would throw any suspicion away from me.

We sat down in our places in the Gryffindor stands, regardless of the fact that some of us should have been displaying loyalty to the other House. Ginny vehemently opposed the idea of concealing our true support for Harry and became quite affronted when it was suggested that we should be maintaining a facade of school spirit.

Luna, I noticed, was staring at me as I sat down beside Hannah. "Everything alright?" I asked her.

"You have become quite mad, haven't you?" She asked, her eyes wide and filled with genuine concern. My mouth hung open in disbelief, caught off guard by her candid observation.

"Don't worry about Loony. Just ignore her," Padma Patil said to me from the seat behind me. I nodded, but I could feel Luna's eyes lingering on me.

"Let's have a nice, clean game," Madam Hooch declared to the teams, her voice amplified by a Sonorous Charm so that everyone in the stands could hear. "Mount your broom, and on my whistle, you may begin."

The Quidditch teams, clad in their House colours, straddled their brooms, anticipation thick in the air. Madam Hooch, her hawk-like gaze unwavering, raised her whistle to her lips. The sun glinted off the polished wood, and the crowd held its collective breath.

The crate containing the game balls rested on the grassy pitch by her feet, and with a flick of her wand, it sprung open, and the clasps released the Golden Snitch and two Bludgers. All three burst into life and rocketed into the sky, their swift ascent eliciting thrilled squeals from numerous spectators in the stands.

Then, with a single, piercing blast, she blew the whistle. She hurled the Quaffle skyward, and the crowd burst into a frenzy of exhilaration. Its red leather gleamed, and the chasers from both teams lunged for it.

But then, chaos erupted. An almighty boom echoed across the pitch, shattering the excited atmosphere. The sky seemed to split open, and pieces of Ginny Weasley—once whole and self-assured—were now scattered like confetti. Her red hair floated down like fiery feathers, and her broomstick lay in splinters.

Screams erupted from every corner of the stands, and I was no exception. Students, teachers—even Snape, that stoic enigma—were caught in a frenzy of shock and horror.

I had not expected that! Who would ever ride a broom if they could explode?

My eyes tracing the scattered remnants of Ginny, I made a mental note never to get on another broom in my life. The thrill of riding a broom suddenly seemed insignificant compared to the risk of becoming airborne shrapnel. The taste of fear lingered, metallic and bitter in the air.

As pink mist settled towardss the grassy ground,I glanced around and noticed Luna Lovegood, her wide silvery eyes still fixed on the sky where Ginny had just been, had finally stopped staring at me. Perhaps the explosion had diverted her attention, or maybe she was contemplating the cosmic implications of broomstick combustion. Either way, I welcomed the reprieve.

The game was then cancelled, and the Aurors were brought in, but there wasn't even enough of the broom or Ginny left to know what had gone wrong. Later, the Hogwarts rumour mill buzzed with word that Madam Hooch had her memories examined to determine if she had overlooked anything during her broomstick inspection. Despite the consensus that the fault was not hers, she was still let go from the school, and a generous settlement was provided to compensate for her lost income.

Once again, I didn't feel bad and, for a moment, thought of Luna's words. Could it be true? Maybe my addiction to Love Potion was driving me to insanity. No, I decided. The true problem was the other witches—their collective insistence that I couldn't upset Harry and teach him even a few tricks in the bedroom. Fleur Delacour, who somehow never managed to miss a meeting of the 'Wives', suggested I was simply being selfish to want more from him.

I hated her beautiful face and perfect silvery hair with a passion and wished on multiple occasions that I could think of a way to shave her head. Her face could also use a bit of a makeover of the hideous variety.

That afternoon I had Potions with Professor Slughorn, and he was kind enough to allow me to experiment with making my own potion. I smiled charmingly at the portly wizard, and he blushed and chuckled in delight.

"I am orchestrating a delightful Easter gathering of our esteemed Slug Club," he announced with a flourish. "You will grace us with your presence, won't you?" he inquired, his eyes twinkling with hopeful anticipation.

"I would love to Professor, but I promised my parents I would come home," I replied.

"Pity, pity," he said, then seemed to hear what he was saying and added, "though I must agree, spending time with family is of utmost importance."

"Of course," I agreed.

"But fear not!" he exclaimed, his spirits seemingly undampened. "I am also hosting an end-of-year celebration. You simply must attend that one. You are such a talent, my dear."

I couldn't help but grin at his praise. "Thank you, sir," I responded.

"Well then, I'll leave you to your work. Enjoy!" He said before leaving me to my potion-making.

"I will," I agreed.

Once Professor Slughorn had exited the room, I scoured the shelves, selecting ingredients that I knew would trigger an acidic reaction while not at once appearing deadly. My heart sank when my large cauldron, filled with a milky potion, seemed to become entirely inert. 'Huh' I thought, completely bewildered by what I had done wrong. And after all the effort I had gone to with the time-turner. Still, it would be even more disappointing not to at least embarrass my latest victim.

With a flick of my wand, I levitated the hefty vat containing my inert, milky potion. Carefully, I navigated through the winding corridors of Hogwarts, making my way towardss the Great Hall, ignoring the fact that dinner was to start shortly. As I traversed the grand space, my eyes scanned the crowd, searching for the familiar figure of Professor Slughorn. Simultaneously, I gently set down the vat in the designated spot, ensuring it was perfectly positioned for what was to come.

"Hesleden! What do you think you're doing?" Snape barked at me, but after seven years at Hogwarts, I barely flinched; I had grown accustomed to his harsh tone. Despite his icy exterior, I knew Snape was fair in his assessments. His critiques, delivered with a sneer, were always just. On rare occasions, he even gave me a backhanded compliment or two, although they were always delivered with his signature sarcasm.

"I was looking for Professor Slughorn. I can't, for the life of me, figure out what I have done wrong with this potion. It has become completely inert," I told him.

He came over with his robes flying out behind him, and I wondered since when I had found that sexy. Even his hair was freshly cleaned. Something that we students usually only got to see at breakfast before a full day in the potions lab made it oily from all the fumes produced. Right now, I observed him and realised he looked hot in all that black and incredibly manly as he strode towards me.

Oh well, I had my Love now, and I would never get the chance to seduce the untouchable Professor when I graduated. 'Where did that thought come from', I mused. For a moment, I silently lamented my loss of freedom. Isn't this supposed to be the time of experimentation and discovery? I hated that all the possibilities had been taken from me and wondered if I should be adding a mad House Elf to my list of victims. He was the one who had stolen my life from me after all.

While I was distracted and not realising I was blatantly eyeing the former Potions Professor, he took the ladle from my hand with a raised eyebrow and a slight smirk, even as he began to stir the concoction. He leaped back just in time to miss the body that seemed to fall out of nowhere and land in the cauldron full of milky liquid. The scream was the only thing that gave away that it was female.

Everyone looked over curiously, not knowing what had caused the potion to splash, but I was still close enough to see clothing and a hunk of hair float to the top. I burst into tears.

"Don't look," Snape said at once, and he gathered me close to his surprisingly muscular chest. Damn the 'no wizard's' clause in the contract. "Everyone out!" Snape was yelling above me as screams began to issue from those who realised what had just happened.

"What is happening here, Severus?" I heard Headmaster Dumbledore's calm and measured voice inquire. I turned to look at him, my face wet with tears streaming down unchecked.

"Miss Hesleden," Professor Snape's voice was as cold and precise as a blade, "was merely showing me this potion that appears to be inert. But as we have just witnessed, skin and bone cannot survive this concoction." His grip tightened, and he very nicely continued to hug me to the warmth of his rock-hard chest.

"Is that her hair?" I wailed.

"Professor!" Came Harry Potter's panicked voice as he rushed over. I gave a shiver of distaste and clutched tighter to Professor Snape. 'Damn that Amortentia Potion must have worn off again! Love Potions, especially this one, were supposed to be long-lasting, but apparently it just didn't work well for me!'

"Potter!" Professor Snape hissed, his voice dripping with disdain. But he still seemed surprisingly happy to hold me, now with my face buried in that rock-hard, deliciously spicy-smelling chest. His hand had crept up to hold my head in place too. 'Nice!' I thought. "I am aware of your need for the special attention your celebrity status affords you from others, but I have instructed everyone to vacate! That includes you and your sycophantic admirer." I grinned into his chest but then remembered the beautiful, silvery, intact hair in the cauldron, and a sob escaped me again.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry asserted with some backbone. "I believe I know who that was," he told the Headmaster, a note of worry now in his tone.

"Who, my boy?" He inquired with interest and grandfatherly concern.

"Fleur Delacour. She was…" His voice trailed off as if he must have realised what he was just about to confess to.

"Give him French lessons," his sidekicks voice chimed in with a lie, but concern was also in his voice.

"Ah," came Professor Dumbledore's voice, filled with wisdom and a hint of caution. "Regardless, we must refrain from making assumptions."

"Yes, Headmaster," came the unified response.

"Come, Miss Hesleden. Let's get you to the hospital wing. A Calming Draught is in order before we delve into this matter," the Headmaster's voice resonated with warmth, and I reluctantly stepped away from sexy… ah, I mean Snape. "Severus, could you notify the DMLE and initiate an analysis of this substance."

"Indeed, Headmaster. However, as you may remember, I have a prior engagement this evening. Nonetheless, I assure you that this substance will receive my undivided attention upon my return," Snape responded, his voice as smooth as silk.

"Very well, my boy. Do keep me apprised of any developments," Dumbledore responded. After a curt and decisive nod, Snape made his exit, his robes billowing behind him as he swept out of the room, and I got a clear view of the cauldron again and gasped with renewed distress.

"Her hair," I wailed.

"Oh, my dear child. It appears we must promptly get her to Poppy," the Headmaster expressed, his voice carrying the gentle urgency that was so characteristic of him. He swiftly guided me away from the scene. Harry and Ron only a step behind us.

"Her hair... it was still there," I shared with him as we made our way up the staircase, my voice barely above a whisper as tears continued to cascade down my cheeks.

"Do not let your heart be troubled, my dear," he reassured me, his words enveloping me like a warm blanket. "All shall be well; you have my word."

"No, it won't," I wailed louder. Injustice seared through me—that bitch's hair survived that! I just wanted to go back and set it on fire. How dare Fleur Delacours perfect hair survive that!

I was admitted to the hospital wing for extreme stress and given some Dreamless Sleep Potion. By the time I woke up, the authorities had already been, and it was declared a tragic accident, though they hadn't yet confirmed Harry's claim as to it being Fleur. They had determined that no students or staff were missing, so they were planning on trying to trace the last known steps of the Veela.

Several weeks had passed since that fateful day, and it was during one of our 'wives' gatherings that the others finally acknowledged the truth—it had indeed been her. Luna, ever the conspiracy theorist, tried to convince everyone of my insanity and even suggested that I had been killing them all off.

The more she spoke, however, the less the others believed her. When she suggested that I had an addiction to Love Potion, everyone truly revolted. No one entertained that notion for even an instant. After all, with Harry Potter in our lives, the idea of requiring a Love Potion seemed redundant to the rest of the mindless twits. After everyone else had departed, Luna remained behind.

"What sort of plans do you have in mind for me?" She asked, her tone serene, as if she were just inquiring about the weather rather than her own fate.

"I honestly haven't given it any thought," I replied. "You don't tend to annoy me or tell me I can't upset Harry."

"I see," she said, but her expression morphed into a frown, a rare display of perplexity on her usually serene face.

"Don't tell me you also don't want him upset?" I asked in disbelief.

"Harry's quite a remarkable wizard, and he is the only one who can defeat You-Know-Who. It would be rather counterproductive to have him distressed, don't you think?" She queried, her head tilting to one side in a gesture of innocent curiosity.

"I just want a little more excitement in the bedroom if I am stuck with him. He doesn't even have a personality, but if he were skilled in sex, that would make this existence so much better," I whined.

"You know, the contract only prohibits wizards. It doesn't mention anything about magical beings," she shared in her dreamy, matter-of-fact tone, and my mouth dropped open in disbelief. How could I have been so stupid to miss that?

"Do you do that?" I asked her.

"Well, no, but that is simply because I would hate to upset Harry," she replied.

"Right," I replied in disgust again.

"You're going to kill me now, aren't you?" She inquired, looking resigned.

"Maybe," I agreed while I contemplated the problem before me.

"Could I make a suggestion?" She inquired lightly, and I raised my eyebrows at the strange girl. She smiled serenely at me. "I'm not overly fond of the notion of parting with life, but the contract is binding, and I'm not at liberty to just leave Harry."

"So, what's your suggestion?" I asked, intrigued.

"Suppose, just hypothetically, if someone were to whimsically plant in my thoughts a suggestion that I venture in pursuit of a rare creature. That would be out of my hands, wouldn't it? And I would be remaining true to the contract." I laughed hard, and Luna continued to smile serenely.

"Did the Sorting Hat offer you Slytherin too?" I asked.

"No, but I am far smarter than people give me credit for," she replied.

"So rare creature hunting?" I said with amusement still in my voice. "You do realise I can't possibly do this now. It would be far too obvious, and everyone would immediately suspect it was me."

"Allow me a week," she started, her dreamy tone once again in place. "Let's meet by the Forbidden Forest. I'm rather fond of exploring, you see. No one will think it odd when I'm not seen for a bit. Besides, Professor Hagrid knows I often feed the Thestrals."

"How do I know you won't give me away in the meantime?" I asked suspiciously.

"It's quite curious, isn't it? How using that potion has muddled your logic skills. I've already informed everyone about your doings, but they don't believe me."

I considered that for a moment, then nodded in agreement. "Alright, I accept that."

The following week, Luna Lovegood walked into the Forbidden Forest and was never seen by anyone at Hogwarts again. A few weeks later, her father also disappeared and was never seen again in the country. Interestingly, a news magazine by the name of 'Kibbelaar' that was identical in content to the Quibbler was released in Holland.

During the Easter holidays, Professor McGonagall paid me a visit, her stern demeanour softened by concern. The years events at Hogwarts had left the magical community on edge, and she, along with the remaining 'wives', apparently believed it was important to stay in touch as much as possible. As she sat in our cosy living room, she decided to entertain my parents with her animagus ability.

The idea came in an instant, and I brandished my wand, stunning the cat and my parents. Being 17 years old had its perks, after all. I then trapped the cat in its form and erased its memory of even being a human. I also adjusted my parents' memories so that they remembered the nice Professor leaving.

But what to do with our unexpected guest? After a brief contemplation, I retrieved our trusty cat carrier and embarked on an impromptu mission. The former Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts deserved a new home—one far removed from the prying eyes of the magical world. At the nearest pet store, convince the owner to find my pet a nice new home.

"What's her name?" the owner inquired as he took down the details of the pet I had to sadly give away.

"I have always called her 'Professor'," I told the skinny older man. He laughed at that.

"I can see why. Those markings do look like spectacles around her eyes, don't they?" he remarked, patting the cat with the skilled hands of a seasoned animal handler. "Has she been snipped?" he inquired as he looked back at the information he was taking down.

"I doubt it," I replied with a shrug.

"Ever have kittens?" he asked me.

"Not since I've known her," I answered.

"She doesn't look that old. Perhaps I will put her in with old 'Pork Pie' over there. You never know. They might like each other," he told me with a grin as he pointed at a large grey brindle furred tom cat with enough battle scars that he reminded me of Mad-Eye Moody.

"Maybe." I agreed with my own grin and left fifteen pounds richer than when I entered the store.

When I got back to school after the two-week break, it was to hear about the tragic death of Hannah Abbott and the arrest of the once-beloved Herbology Professor, Pomona Sprout. Turns out, the professor had been conducting experiments on Devil's Snare, aiming to channel its inherently aggressive tendencies towards a more focused and penetrative direction. Evidently, she hadn't quite perfected her enchantments in her design, and somehow Hannah Abbott had found herself alone in the green house with the experimental version of the plant.

I was informed that the scene discovered was disturbingly macabre, and the term auto-erotic asphyxiation was being bandied about the school by students who should have been too young to even be familiar with it. Apparently, it required several hours of persistent effort by called-in Herbology experts to unravel the plant's secrets and coax it into relinquishing its sexual partner.

Overcome with fear and sorrow, Susan Bones and Padma Patil were quiet beside themselves. I decided to do something nice for them since these two had never particularly annoyed me. I made them copies with the Gemino Charm of a new book called 'Twilight' by an author named Stephanie Mayer. I found the story immensely enjoyable and was confident that it would equally captivate the other two girls.

Professor McGonagall's sudden disappearance sent ripples of unease through the castle. Whispers echoed in the corridors, and concerned glances were exchanged among students and staff alike. Yet, despite the collective anxiety, the mystery remained unsolved—no one could fathom where she had vanished to.

It turned out she had never told a soul she was going to visit me during the Easter holiday. And now, as the days passed, Harry's interactions with us—the remaining three 'wives'—grew ever more remote and strained. Padma was convinced that he was secretly in Love with Draco Malfoy. Each time he brushed her off to follow the Slytherin, it only served to further fuel her suspicions.

I hoped so. If Draco became a 'wife', it wouldn't technically violate the 'no other wizards' clause in the contract if we were to join them. 'Oh' the ideas that brought to mind. I smiled happily as I watched more and more girls discover the delights of Edward Cullen and Bella Swan. I also observed as my Love mooned over Draco Malfoy and wondered if I could direct him towards Professor Snape after he added Draco to the fold. That scenario, I could quiet happily live with.

A handful of wizards decided to read Twilight out of curiosity, intrigued by the buzz among the witches. However, as they delved into the pages, some of the boys grew increasingly uneasy. The novel's blend of romance and supernatural elements had an unexpected effect on them—one that bordered on fear. Meanwhile, Susan Bones became utterly obsessed with the story. She even went so far as to ask Professor Snape if he could transform her into a Vampire.

He sneered disdainfully at her and strode off. I wondered, then, if he really was a Vampire. I mean, I had never even seen him go outside unless it was really overcast. 'I wonder if he glitters,' I mused dreamily. 'I must find out,' I decided. Luna had told me that magical creatures didn't count as wizards after all, and his chest was so hard. I couldn't remember if I felt any warmth from it the day he held me against him.

A week later, Susan Bones turned up in the Great Hall as a freshly minted, glittery Vampire and I had no idea how she had achieved it. Disappointingly, I found out that real Vampires didn't sparkle. 'I should have taken Care of Magical Creatures,' I thought as I watched the male half of the student body freak out. They reacted with a surprising panic and fear, their voices rising to a deafening level. They started to call for her instant death, claiming that Twilight was the worst Love Story of all time.

Professor Dumbledore, his silver beard trailing behind him, attempted to reason with the young wizards. His calm demeanour clashed with the mounting hysteria. He spoke of understanding, compassion, and the need for acceptance.

But then, the chant began: "For the greater good!" repeated over and over again by the terrified male population, shocking the old wizard to such an extent that he was rendered speechless. The air thickened with tension. Susan, her eyes wide and crimson, stood looking bewildered by the hostile reaction. The freshly turned young Twilight-inspired Vampire was immobilised by a well-placed 'Petrificus Totalus', but who cast it I couldn't see. And I saw more than one ball of flame shoot towards her.

Professor Dumbledore, coming to his senses, tried to put out the flames, but it turned out that sparkly Vampires were highly flammable, and soon all that was left was smouldering purple smoke, a bunch of cheering boys, and horrified girls.

I also noticed Professor Snape had slipped out a side door before the flames could get anywhere near him. 'Hmm, another nail in the Vampire coffin?' I considered and really hoped so. I looked over at my Love, Harry, and noticed him frowning at a laughing Draco Malfoy. I wondered if I should share some of my Amortentia Potion with the Slytherin, but then remembered that I almost had Harry to myself and soon I would be able to teach him some things. 'Maybe after that,' I decided.

A few days later, while rummaging through my bag, I came across the time-turner. I hadn't had reason to use it since my encounter with Fleur. It was disappointing, really. I was sure the thing was going to be an invaluable tool when I first found it. Now I decided I needed to get rid of it. Nothing good could come of being found with one of these in my possession.

Since Padma was the last 'wife' standing in my way of teaching Harry a thing or two and risking upsetting him, I decided with resignation that I may as well make this a fait accompli. After taking my fourth dose of Love Potion for the day, I stealthily made my way into the sixth-year dormitory. Once at Padma's bedside, I began to twist the time-turner, counting out loud as I did.

"One… two… three… four… five… six,"

A confused murmur came from one of the other beds in the room. "What…" With a swift motion, I flicked my wand at her with a quick 'Stupefy.' The spell's effect was instant, silencing any further questions from the girl as I continued the crucial task at hand, the time-turner's rotations unceasing.

"Nine… ten… eleven… twelve… thirteen… fourteen,"

"Why…" another one mumbled on a sleepy groan, and I stunned her as well. Over the next few hours, I had to stun each of them a number of times, but I kept twisting until I heard someone approaching the room.

"Fifteen thousand nine hundred seventy-two," I was just saying, and then quickly placed the necklace around Padma's neck. She opened her eyes and looked at me, but she disappeared before she could say a word. I jumped into the bed and covered myself just in time.

Professor Flitwick was doing a quick check of the rooms, as he did sometimes, to make sure everyone was where they were supposed to be. When he left, I knew I had to be quick. I disillusioned myself and hurried past the seventh-year door, where I knew he was about to discover I was not in my bed. I went into the prefect's office, placed my head down on the desk, and feigned sleep. It wasn't even hard to do. I was very sleepy after all.

I heard the Professor's amused giggle as he saw me, and then he came over and gently shook me 'awake.'

"Miss Hesleden, it's rather late. Why don't you retire to your dormitory?" He suggested in his high-pitched, chirpy voice when my sleepy eyes met his. I simply nodded and shuffled past him. I slept heavily and soundly when my head hit my pillow. I was glad because my hand had quiet the cramp in it from all the twisting.

A full four days elapsed before anyone realised that the young witch was nowhere to be found. Everybody, including her twin sister, assumed she was simply immersed in her studies, seeking solitude. The Professors, in their initial obliviousness, failed to communicate amongst themselves about her missing classes, instead making allowances for the usually diligent student.

This oversight, along with Professor Flitwick's assertion that he had seen her in her bed during his routine checks on that night four days earlier, meant no one could be sure when she disappeared or, more importantly, why.

This latest incident at Hogwarts stirred up a storm of outrage and fear in the magical world, shaking their faith in what was believed to be the safest place in all of magical Britain. Talks of closing down the school began to surface, and there were even discussions about dismissing Professor Dumbledore from his duties.

Harry was beside himself with worry as he paced the room of requirement. He started rambling about how Voldemort had to be behind it and that he was going to kill him for it.

"That all sounds good, Harry, my boring Love, but now I have you here, I have a few things I'd like to show you," I told him, unconcerned by his ranting.

"What did you call me?" he asked as he stopped in his tracks.

"Harry," I replied at once. "Now today, how about you leave your pants on for a bit, and I'll introduce you to the wonderful world of the female orgasm. Tell me, my Love, have you heard of the clitoris?"

"What?" Harry asked in confusion, frowning deeply.

"Oh dear. The others were right. You do become easily upset. Not to worry, my boring Love. I may not be able to fix your personality, but I can improve your bedroom skills," I explained.

"What the fuck?" he exclaimed, looking at me as if I had grown two heads.

"Bed-room skills," I said slowly so he would understand what I was saying. "Really, Harry, my Love. I do Love you thanks to my repeated uses of Amortentia Potion, but you could put in a little effort, and trying to twist a witch's tits off is not effort. I mean, they are attached, you know," I said with exasperation. Harry's eyes were almost bugging out of his head as he stared at me.

"DOBBY!" He suddenly screamed.

A pop sounded, and the Mad House Elf arrived in the room. "The Great Harry Potter Sir has called for Dobby," the House Elf said with his hands clasped before him and rapture on his face.

"You!" I screamed at the same time. "I have been searching for you," I said as I launched myself at the creature. House Elves were notoriously hard to kill, but I figured if I could bash his head into the hard floor, that should do the trick. Taking hold of the oddly shaped head, I began to do just do that over and over again. That was until I was banished away from the ugly creature. Harry ran to the disgusting creature's side and pulled him into his arms.

"Dobby! You alright?" Harry asked desperately.

"Of course, almost-Master. Dobby has had worse from his bad master," Dobby responded, his voice trembling slightly, the awe in his voice still prominent.

I scoffed. "Typical; couldn't even kill it," I mumbled.

"Why would you try kill Dobby?" Harry demanded angrily.

"Because he enslaved me to you," I replied with a shrug. "Luckily, I Love you now, so it's not so bad. Except for the boredom and having to give myself orgasms."

"Dobby, what's she going on about?" Harry inquired, looking down at the small creature still laying contently in his arms.

"Harry Potter is Dobby's best friend. Dobby has the duty to protect the Great Harry Potter Sir, and his interests. So, Dobby, has put an unbreakable contract jinx on your penis," his voice quivered with reverence, his ears twitching with determination.

"What… How…" Harry started to stutter.

"Dobby got the idea from the Triwizard Tournament," he announced happily.

Harry frowned and then said, "Why isn't Colin Creevey here then?" I burst out laughing, thinking I finally had someone else to play with, but that moment of triumph was over quickly.

"The Creevey incident happened before Dobby laid the jinx on you," the House Elf said, becoming sad.

Dobby squeaked, his ears drooping, "The Creevey encounter—it did happen before Dobby laid the jinx on you, sir. Dobby feels deeply sorry Great Harry Potter Sir. I should punish myself."

"What? No!" Harry said, but to what part I didn't know and didn't really care right now.

"What happened with Colin Creevey?" I asked with interest. Harry looked at me, his eyes glazed and distracted.

"One night I was woken up in the middle of the night, and there was a bunch of grapes sitting on my face and my cock in someone's mouth. Even Ron reckoned it's not on to turn down a free blow job," Harry replied, going slightly red.

"So, you do know what those are!" I said accusingly. "And don't tell me? You did nothing with the 'grapes' dangling so close to your face. No wonder the wizard never came back for seconds. This is what we need to work on, my boring Love. Sex is about giving as much as it is about receiving," I explained easily.

"They were real grapes," he insisted, but blushed furiously, and I didn't believe him at all. I simply shrugged at his protest.

"Really Harry? Why have you never returned the favour?" I pouted.

"Hermione mentioned that girls aren't fond of that sort of stuff, and when I brought it up with Daphne, she agreed, saying it seemed disgusting," he told me. My mouth dropped open in utter disbelief.

"Are you Mad? You asked a prude and an ice queen. Who else did you ask sex questions of?" I demanded to know. "Doesn't matter," I said, waving it away. "Come over here so we can get started," I ordered, my blue eyes bore into his green ones. "The constant whining of 'Don't upset Harry'"—I scoffed, my voice dripping with disdain—"I had to listen to."

"You are insane! You do know you're not exactly well liked here at Hogwarts, right? I'm only hanging around you more because Hermione kept on at me to be decent to you. Truth be told, if you weren't so bloody hot, I doubt I would've ever touched you in the first place."

"That crazy bitch helped trap me?! Being buried in books was too good for her. I should have turned her into a squid. The giant one out in the Black Lake has always looked lonely to me!" I declared angrily.

"Stop talking! Did you kill Hermione?" The words hung in the air, a blade poised to sever hope from reality. His eyes, once trusting, now bore into mine with a dawning realisation. "And what happened to Ginny and her broom?" he implored; his knuckles white as he clenched his fists. "And poor Hannah. What did you do to Hannah?" His voice wavered, becoming more and more distressed. He really was an emotional drama queen, wasn't he?

In a reasonable tone, I told him, "First of all, I did nothing to Hannah. Who would have thought that Professor Sprout was secretly in the business of making exotic sex toys? And murderous ones at that. And secondly, if those bitches had just allowed me to teach you some stuff in the bedroom, I wouldn't have had to get rid of them."

"Right," Harry deadpanned, and then he stunned me.

Next thing I knew, I was in the Headmaster's office, surrounded by Professors and Aurors, all their eyes boring into me.

"Miss Hesleden," Professor Dumbledore began, his voice filled with a mix of concern and hope. "Could it be that there has been a misunderstanding? It is hard to believe that a young lady of your talents could be implicated in the dreadful acts that Harry has attributed to you," Professor Dumbledore said with grandfatherly eyes, looking gravely at me.

"As usual, I am sure Potter is overreaching. The boy has a propensity for melodrama, often resorting to hyperbole to garner sympathy and support whenever the whim suits him," Snape drawled.

"Thank you, Professor Sexy. My Love certainly is a drama queen, isn't he?" I agreed and then noticed everyone giving me strange looks. "What?" I asked.

"What… What did you just call me?" Snape asked with a sneer on his face.

"Professor Snape," I answered at once. It didn't look like anyone believed me, but I was getting used to people around me being quite Mad. "By the way, could you please get the potion out of my coat pocket? I am due for my fifth dose of the day."

Snape opened my coat roughly, and the back of his had grazed my breast.

"Thank you," I muttered up at him with a grateful grin. He grimaced but took out the phial to inspect it.

"Amortentia Potion, it seems?" he remarked, an intrigued tone lacing his words.

"Yes, it is. Can I have it, please?" I asked as I looked up at Professor Snape, who simply raised an eyebrow at me.

"Has young Potter been influencing you to consume a Love Potion?" One of the Aurors asked me with unmistakable sternness.

"No, but he is so boring that I decided to take it myself. Imagine being tricked into a harem with no way out and being tied to the most boring wizard on earth. But to make it worse, he is terrible in bed."

Snape's laughter erupted, a rare and startling sound that made the Aurors step back in surprise at the unexpected sound. Professor Dumbledore was looking at him in disapproval, while the other Professors wore expressions of utter shock as if they hadn't known he was capable of making the noise.

"Severus, please," Professor Dumbledore implored my former potion's teacher, his voice a blend of weariness and authority as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Miss Becky Hesleden," the same Auror as before began, his voice gravelly and filled with an authority that demanded respect, "the Ministry finds itself in the unfortunate position of having to place you under arrest for the heinous act of murder." His gaze hardened, and he continued, "The victims, all tragically linked to you through their shared bond with Mr. Harry Potter, are as follows…" and he started to list off all the names of all the other 'wives of Harry Potter.'

"That is hardly fair! I only killed a few of them," I said hotly, which started Professor Snape laughing again.

As we were marching towards the fireplace, I heard one of the other Aurors say to another, "Still a better Love Story than Twilight. Can you believe that Hippogriff shit?"

"How dare you!" I screamed at the Auror but was then violently shoved through the green flames.

For two decades, I was visited in my Azkaban Cell often by Severus Snape, each time assuring me with a hint of dry humor that he was, indeed, not a vampire. On one occasion, many years ago now, he arrived with news that Dobby the House Elf had been killed by a Death Eater for displeasing him by serving him porridge that had lost its warmth on a June morning. I cried in relief and joy, and then laughed for days after that.

Today was extra special, however. The war was finally over, and he was a hero. His deeds as a brave spy were lauded by all. Apparently, Harry Potter had become a vagrant who lived in the woods or something for most of that time. He would pop up every now and then only to disappear again, no one really knowing what he was doing. The magical world had long ago bowed down to Lord Voldemort, and many good people died.

Azkaban had been safer than living in London now that the Dementors no longer guarded the place. My friend Severus told me that under Voldemort's rule, as soon as a Muggle-borns existence was revealed, courtesy of the letters dispatched from Hogwarts, Death Eaters were dispatched to kill the whole family.

Then one day Harry Potter came walking out of the Forbidden Forest as big as you please and just asked Voldemort to kill him.

Voldemort apparently extolled his virtue as a merciful Lord obligingly fulfilled his request. Any who still had faith in the Boy-Who-Lived broke that day. Only Severus Snape decided enough was enough and took matters into his own hands. He quickly cast a killing curse at the Lord who now ruled all of magical England, and then killed off any who were not happy with him for it.

He decided he would come and share his story with me. I was so deliriously pleased that my servitude to Harry Potter was over that I spent a lot of time showing Severus just how happy I was. He promised he'd be by daily after that.


Author's notes: - Yes, I am aware that 'Twilight' was not released until 2005. Don't blame me. It was my hateful collaborator who wanted to get his hate on the beloved series.

Speaking of which, I need to thank 'Gaufdig' for a lot of the ideas on how to kill off so many witches and even just make a few disappear.