Legal Disclaimer: I own my stuff, but not the original source material. That belongs to whoever. Also, the opinions and interpretations I use here may not reflect the same in said whoever that owns the source material. Look, I'm just a poor college librarian. Suing me isn't going to get you anything but tears.

Warning: This work may be offensive to some readers. There is non-consensual touching but not between the ship participants. Feel free to back out if need be.

Author's Note: It's a sorry state of existence that the sex demons are the ones requiring consent.

Submitting Info:
Stacked with: Hogwarts (Term 14); Mc4A (Year 4)
Individual Challenges: Short Jog; Knightly Era; Old Shoes (Y); Bucket Listing (Y); Two Cakes (Y); Eating Cake (Y);
House: Slytherin
Assignment No.: Term 14 – Assignment 04
Subject (Task No.): Ritual & Ceremonial Magic (Task#5: Write a story about a triad ship you've never written before.)
Other Hogwarts Challenges:Fantastic Beasts [99](Incubus AU); 365 Prompts [307](Shivering); Scavenger Hunt [23](Pansexual Character); But Can You Spell It? [P](Percy/Oliver); Fantasy February (13)[Annual Sacrifice]; Bottle Fame/Brew Glory [Amortentia](Pearl Dust)[Pride]
Other MC4A Challenges: SpB [1C](Breakfast); TrB [5C](Darkest Hour); Ship (Prefect Keeper)[Bingo 4D](Breakfast in Bed); Hunt [Sp WD](Mobility Impairment);
Representation(s): Desi Harry Potter/Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood; Fem Percy Weasley; Incubus AU
Primary & Secondary Bonus Challenges: Not a Lamp; Odd Feathers
Tertiary & Generic Bonus Challenges: T3 (Terse; Tether)
Word Count: 1704 words

(^^)
Sacrificed
(^^)

Harry didn't fight the village women as they bathed him and rubbed scented oils into his skin. He was still groggy from whatever they had given him at the choosing ceremony. Of course, even if he hadn't been, he wouldn't have fought them. It was supposed to be a great honor to be chosen as the sacrifice. The potion given was just for ceremony, for ritual, for tradition.

He moved with the hands as they turned him onto his back to continue rubbing the oil into his skin. One of the older women chuckled as she slid her hands over Harry's uncovered chest. He opened his eyes just long enough to see her mean smirk before his strength gave out. He felt fingers pinching his nipples while more hands shifted his legs apart so that they could get his groin as well.

Someone spilled a short stream of oil directing on the spot behind his balls. It trickled down into the crack between his butt cheeks. The chuckle sounded again as a pair of fingers began rubbing over his hole in little circles meant to soothe. Then those fingers pressed into the place where no one had ever touched him before, their way eased by both the oil and the potion lingering in his body.

Harry didn't tense at the intrusion, not even when the two fingers began to pump in and out of him nor when they were joined by a third. He did give a whine of protest when a fourth finger joined the other three, but he still didn't fight against the action. Despite being uncomfortable, they weren't hurting him, only stretching him open for something that he didn't understand. He might as well just let the violation happen.

Besides, it wasn't as if he was actually good for anything else. At least this way, the village was safe for another year. The village was safe for another year, and as an added benefit, Harry would finally be able to rest. He was just exhausted trying to be whatever his family had wanted him to be while also being what the village elders had wanted. He was tired of failing so much.

He was tired of it all.

Something cold and heavy replaced the fingers. Even with the extensive preparation, it was still a painful stretch. That abruptly ended as whatever the widest part of whatever it was made it past the rim of his hole. The woman twisted a few times as she worked it farther into his limp body. By the time it was seated, the chill of it had faded.

Harry felt them wrapping the traditional loin cloth around his waist. He knew that it would be much longer now before they transported him to the nearby mountain. This time of year, the night would still be frigid. There was still frost on the grass in the mornings. While there was never any bodies or even bones on the altar the following year, Harry wasn't stupid enough not to know what happened to the sacrifices left out in those conditions.

He let the blackness drag him under as he heard the voice of the head elder, Dumbledore.

If he was lucky, he wouldn't wake up before dying.

(^^)

The foggy feeling receded in the same way that the tide did. The first sensation that Harry became aware of was the intense warmth of the room. The second was the softness that was covering him. It was probably a blanket going by the shape, but it felt like heaven against his bare skin.

He tried moving a bit only to be realize that whatever they had put into his ass was still there. A lifetime of needing to do his chores while already hurt didn't let him dawdle too much, though. He just had to move carefully.

Finally, he made it to something resembling a sitting position on the softest bed he had ever touched let alone actually been on. The movement made the blanket drop to his lap. It also jostled the thing within him. Harry shivered as pleasurable heat licked at his insides.

While he was still debating if he should remove whatever it was (because why would inserting it be part of the ritual if he didn't need it?) when two people entered the room. It was a short but burly man carrying a tray laden with dishes and a woman who appeared to be scolding him over something. Harry chewed at the inside of his cheek, worried that the woman would be like his aunt and strike out at her companion or himself.

The woman was pretty with hair the color of flames and eyes the same color as woad. Her skin was pale but covered in so many freckles that entire sections of her skin seemed the reddish brown of them. Harry could see her pierced nipples through the thin cloth of her skimpy dress. He had the sudden urge to flick the little hoops with his tongue.

"She's a fine looking lady, ain't she?" the man asked as he crossed the room with his tray. Harry felt the back of his neck flush at being caught staring. Then he was staring for a completely different reason. The man was only wearing a pair of loose-fitting pants of the same thing material as the woman's dress. A blacken scar twisted a chunk of his left thigh and down over his knee. While the man didn't seem to be struggling at the moment, Harry knew from seeing similar injuries in the village that he would have problems when it was colder. The man clicked his tongue once. "My eyes are up here, lovey."

"Right," Harry agreed instantly. He jerked his eyes up to the man's face only to see a leer directed at him. "Who are you? What's going on?"

"Well," the man said, drawing out the word. "I'm Oliver. This is my wife Sigune. You were the sacrificial offering this year—"

"A very pretty one," Sigune agreed. Harry could help looking down at his hands even as he flushed with a little bit of pride at her assessment. And in front of her husband! "Oh, you blush even prettier."

"You were sacrificed," Oliver continued as if his wife hadn't said anything unexpected. Harry wanted to shift in his spot nervously but remembered the thing inside him at the last second. "But you were really out of it when we retrieved you. You slept all night rather than waking around dusk like the others."

"They don't die?" Harry asked, unable to keep from tensing in his surprise at the news. It made him clench around the thing in his ass. He moaned as he shivered through the flood of pleasure that sent through him. Helplessly, he began shifting for an entirely different reason than nerves. "Oh, gods."

"Sigune," Oliver whined as he set his tray on a low table next to the bed. Then he backed away and circled around to the other side of the bed.

Sigune quickly took his previous spot on that side before kneeling on the bed near Harry. The position made her breasts sway, drawing Harry's attention back to the hoops through her nipples. Then it dropped to how her freckled hands were soothing her skirt over the tiny portion of her thighs that it covered.

"None of them die, precious," Sigune assured him. She trailed her fingers over the skin right below her skirt's hem. "At least, they don't die here or because of their sacrifice. After they leave here, who knows? That's a point of pride for us. Not all can manage the control necessary."

"We're very, very good at control," Oliver said. He sounded a bit like he was bragging but also like he was implying something. Harry couldn't stop staring at Sigune's stroking fingers or he would have looked for a clue on the man's face. He followed the fingers as they moved upwards over her barely concealed stomach. "But by the gods, you are more tempting than the others have been. We were going to let you eat breakfast before we talked about what accepting your sacrifice would entail, but I don't—Sigune!"

Her fingers had started playing with those taunting hoops that Harry wanted to play with, too.

"We feed off sexual energy, precious," Sigune said without a hint of shame or disassembling. She did stop teasing herself, however, letting Harry not be so distracted. "A couple of the villages nearby sends us so-called sacrifices to keep us from corrupting their young people. They come to us. We feed. Then we let them go with a nice reward gold and gems. One village has had the same sacrifice for the last six years."

"Marcus loves to volunteer," Oliver supplied. His voice was smug and his pride clear on his handsome face. "The gold isn't even his motivation anymore."

"I didn't volunteer," Harry whispered. Sigune made an offended sound and reached towards. She stopped short of touching him as if suddenly uncertain if he would welcome the touch. "The elders chose me as soon as I was old enough."

"You don't have feed us, precious," Sigune said with a voice as firm as the mountain itself. "We would never take what has not been freely given, and for more than it taints the flavor. You are free to eat, get your payment, and then leave for anywhere you want." Her blue eyes burned with her determination. "You don't even have to leave. You could stay, and we still wouldn't force you to feed us."

"What if," Harry asked, his eyes flicking between the two of them, "what if I wanted to? I, I don't know what I would be doing, because I have never done anything like that before, but—" He shifted deliberately just to jostle loose more pleasure. He could feel his cock hardening like it sometimes did. "You could show me? I'm a fast learner."

"We would love to teach you," Oliver agreed, climbing onto the bed finally as Sigune shifted closer as well. "We'll go at whatever pace you need, lovey, and teach you everything you want."

And they did.