Disclaimer: My house belongs to the bank, my work belongs to my boss and my money is always confiscated by my wife. And Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling... Damn...
To choose the lesser evil
By DerLaCroix
Chapter 2 – Not quite dead, yet.
"Wake up!"
Suddenly, the light came back, and she instinctively scrambled away from the hand that was roughly shaking her awake, while at the same time clutching her raw throat with her right hand, gasping for sweet life-extending air. He was standing in front of her, now wearing his glasses, clad only in the faded greyish boxer shorts he had slept in, wand in hand. A single, brightly glowing orb hanging from the ceiling illuminated the room, making her blink in the sudden, painful light.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, his green eyes - now back behind his customary spectacles - sweeping over her, evaluating the things he saw. Suddenly she was keenly aware of her state of dress, and hastily pulled her coat around her. Nestling with it, she realised that the buttons had been torn off during their fight, as well. She settled for crossing it in front of her and clutching it.
"I have asked what you are doing here," Harry asked her again with venom in his voice. "How do you know where I live, Edgecombe?"
"You nearly killed me," Marietta croaked, her throat raw.
"I thought you were Bellatrix Lestrange," Harry answered calmly, not the slightest bit apologetic.
"I'm blonde," Marietta protested, rubbing her throat.
"And it's dark and I'm blind as a bat without glasses. For the last time, what are you doing here," he repeated, and suddenly she noticed that his wand was glowing slightly. "Revenge?"
Marietta had to admit that the way he acted impressed her. He was cold, harsh, unyielding, and his eyes bored into her in a way that told her that this was really the last time he would ask the question. The next thing he would say would be an incantation, underage ban be damned. This was a man in control, not only a boy in trouble. He knew exactly how to treat his enemies - too sad that he was only kind of wrong on her accord. She wasn't exactly on the other side. Sadly, she hadn't really been on his side, either.
"I need help," she spoke, with a voice still strained. "Death Eaters killed my parents and burnt our house down, and are now looking for me," she explained, realising that only the full truth would help her. And if she said it out loud, she might finally be able to believe it, herself.
"Pull the other one, Edgecombe," he replied, acidly.
"Do you have half naked girls break into your house on a regular basis?" Marietta snapped at him, before realising that she was talking to the boy-who-lived, so it actually was within the realm of possibility. Getting even more angry, she decided to up the ante. "Do they all pretend their family got killed to seduce you?" She ranted on, seeing him become a bit embarrassed as he ducked his head under her onslaught. Using her anger, she leveraged herself up, using his bed frame for traction. With some effort, she managed to stand up, though still swaying slightly. She had been dead on her feet when she arrived, and getting choked to within an inch of death had not helped with that issue, at all.
"Ok, ok, I get it. Sorry. I'm not quite awake, yet, ok?" He snarled back, rambling angrily. "Ok, they killed your family. I'm sorry to hear that. But, to be so blunt, why? You are a pureblood, and while your mum works in the Ministry, she's no one important, as far as I know," he inquired, without any trace of compassion, or even pity, or something, anything.
"She was important to ME," she angrily hissed back at him, not being able to ignore this slight. Harry did flinch when she did so. Feeling dizzy as she slowly came down from the adrenaline rush, she had to sit down on his bed, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She couldn't keep it from turning into a yawn.
For the first time, an honest emotion flashed over Harry's face. "I'm sorry," he said, this time without the slightest hint of anger, and at least a trace of honest compassion as he was slowly coming down from his own adrenaline rush. He could very much sympathise with the girl's experience. Still, the reason not to trust her was spelled out across her face. Realising he still had her at wand point, he awkwardly lowered his wand.
She gave him a small smile, but said nothing. Most of all, because she was glad that he stopped glaring at her. He was kind of scary when his eyes gleamed like that. Especially as her own sight was starting to get dim and blurry. At this point, she could barely keep her eyes open.
"Umbridge. She was upset about what happened last year, and visited tonight with her friends to bring her point across. By sheer luck, I managed to hide in a cupboard until they left," she recounted the rough outline. "I heard everything," she added, her voice quivering as she fought the tears.
"I'm sorry," he repeated his main theme. "But, ignoring the fact that we're not exactly friends, why did you come here? Why do you think I, of all people, could help you? Or, to be frank, why would I help you?"
"Because you are you," she stated matter-of-factly. "And Voldemort can't get me here."
"You seem awfully sure of that."
"Voldemort is out for you, so are his Death Eaters. Your address is easy to get in the Ministry. The fact that they haven't murdered you in your sleep after all these years means that there must be some protection in place. Something that makes them unable to come here," she told him without hesitation. Her life couldn't be any more forfeit than it was already, and she counted on her guess to be true.
Harry took that theory in stride, proving her right, but asked more questions. "Really? And how would they know where I live? And how do you know?" She obviously had caught his interest. Now she needed to sell her plan, get him to trust her.
"The Ministry. Your address is in the registry, after all. Mum told me Umbridge had a detector assigned to just this property, alone, in addition to the one for all of Surrey. It even has your name and address on it, she mentioned it a few times." Another complete truth. "And I think you mentioned it to Cho, once, and I overheard bits, but I might be wrong. I simply remembered parts and puzzled it together. Don't know how, it just came to me when I tried to come up with a plan, and I lucked out getting it right."
While shocked to the core, Harry tried to act cool. He had to admit that it didn't surprise him that it was that easy to find someone. He made a mental note to tell Hermione about that. Her safety could depend on it. That cleared, he concentrated on the still pressing question.
"Still, why me? Ignoring the how, why on earth do you think I, of all people, would help you?"
"Sex," she blurted out.
His "Buh-what?" reply reminded her that she had not yet elaborated on what she had meant to offer.
"The deal, Potter... I'll sleep with you - whatever you want, whenever. Just ask and I'll do it. No games, no drama, no effort on your behalf. You say jump, and I ask which way you would like me to land on you while I'm on my way down. Keep me safe, and I'll keep you happy," she said. She almost spoiled that offer by yawning. It was getting harder and harder to stay awake, as the day finally caught up with her. On the other hand, her state of groggy numbness allowed her to be shockingly frank about things that she never thought she would be able to even hint at. This must be what it was like to be drunk, her wandering mind briefly mused, before she could pull herself back together and back on topic.
Harry stared at her for a few moments, allowing his eyes to take in all that was barely hidden from sight. She was tall, slim, but with curves. Her curly hair framed a pretty face, when you ignored the angry letters across it, that is. The picture of her breasts was still quite fresh in his memory. In fact, he could still see them from where he stood, since she currently didn't clutch her coat as tightly as she had done before. Thinking about it, she actually was quite a pretty girl, to be honest, and she just offered him every teenage boy's wildest dream. That was certainly not something he had expected. Was he still asleep? Having a weird start to a very good dream? Involuntary, he started to chuckle.
"Yeah, right. As if," he huffed. If she were more awake, she might have felt hurt about it, but she could barely concentrate on his face, anymore. Everything was blurring in and out of focus. "Really nice offer, but I really, really don't quite believe you," he chuckled, more to himself than to her.
"Also, what made you think I would just drop everything and throw myself into your arms just because you'd offer?" he suddenly challenged her.
"A minute ago, there were two wands pointed at me, and one still is," Marietta replied with a small smirk, pointing out the bulge in his boxers which he only realised, now.
Feeling more exposed than the girl in front of him by that revelation, Harry blushed. Quickly, he sat down on his desk chair, only finding that this didn't help at all. "Nude girl equals erection. We boys aren't complicated,'" he tried to rationalise, but gave up on it while he was ahead, kind of.
"True words," she said with a slight snort of amusement. "And that's why I'm trying to not complicate things, to. I'll be honest with you, Potter. I need help. Desperately. I'm scared, terrified. They were pretty blunt while teasing my parents with what they intend to do to me if they get me. Short version, they rape me till they break me, fix me up as if new, obliviate me, and then start it over with my virgin version. Forever. And once they get bored, I get handed over to the next group, and so on. A never ending, re-occurring nightmare of rape and torture," she explained her predicament, a wave of despair washing over her as she once more realized that there was no way she'd accept that fate.
"Maybe it would have been better if you had held on to your grip just a little bit longer," she mused, realising that this would have been her other way out of a fate she knew to be so much worse."Or if I'd stayed in the burning house. At least it'd have been over quickly," she whispered faintly.
"This was a stupid plan, I'm sorry," she suddenly said. "I shouldn't have bothered you, I'm going to leave now."
She made a feeble attempt to get up, which Harry thwarted the moment she tried to, jumping up and gently blocking her with a hand on her shoulder.
"Whoa, whoa ,whoa- hey now. Where do you think you are going? I am not going to let you walk into a bus or something! There must be some solution to your problem other than the next bridge to jump from," he insisted, panicking as he had realised what she was intending to do.
"No need to rush things - they first need to catch you after all, right? The Ministry is a bunch of morons, but they aren't going to hand you over to anyone, especially when you tell them your story, right? So you just need to find a safe place - I've been staying out of their reach for years, so it's not that hard," he tried to say something, anything, to defuse the situation.
"Maybe you should ask Dumbledore. While I'm not on exactly the best terms with him, right now, I could still write him a letter. He might be able to help you," he offered.
Marietta paused a second to compose herself. "I doubt it. Umbridge said she would take care that I'd get placed with the 'right' kind of foster parents, once found" she said, dripping with sarcasm. "I don't trust Dumbledore being able or willing to fight that."
Harry had to admit that he did agree with that assessment. Without proof of some kind, Dumbledore would have no way to interfere. And even if he had, he was just as likely to use her in one of his political games. His record on who he thought needed protection and who could be endangered wasn't predictable, nor spotless, if someone were to ask Harry. Still he wasn't to tell Marietta that, at least not in her current state. "I'm sure he'd find a way to help you," he tried to reassure her.
For a moment, Marietta was baffled at his naïvety, but then she remembered who she was talking to.
"I keep forgetting that I am talking to someone who is practically a Muggleborn. I know that things are a lot more liberal in the world you were raised in, but that won't matter here - I know how they are in mine - or better said - ours," she made an attempt to explain.
"Once the death of my parents is confirmed, sometime later today, I will be declared missing. My picture will be in the Prophet, Aurors will be notified to look for me, owls sent to contact and trace me, all the works. If I make it a day or two, I'd be surprised. Then, I will be placed with my current head of family, until the mourning period is over and the last will can be checked for any placements my parents have decreed. Now, the next in line for guardianship is Uncle Timothy, first cousin to my father, tragically widowed by suicide. No children. Still, he is the next oldest male of the family, so the legal guardianship for that period is his. Law is clear, no exception unless he arranges for other placement. My opinion is neither wanted, nor cared for. I am a minor, and even more so, a girl. Nobody will care," she described the situation.
"This uncle has so far shown a distinct lack of discretion in how he's been looking at me for the last couple of years, and is known to be quite sympathetic to the blood purity cause. Frankly, I wouldn't doubt for a second that he would not hand me over if he was contacted. He'd probably want to join in, that is, if he hasn't already started on the fun, already, the moment I step into his house and he's alone with me. Best guess, the story would be that I stole some money, and ran off at some time during the day, right after he left home for some errand or another. He'd realise after returning late in the evening, and spend some time trying to find me, hoping I'd turn up, before reporting it. By that time, it will appear as if I had managed to leave the country, and my trail is lost there. I remain never to be found, probably ended up in the Americas or Europe, rumours say," she sadly concluded her prophecy.
"So sure about it?" Harry inquired, trying to look as if his jaw wasn't about to hit the floor at her casual description of her own abduction.
"Has happened before," she replied, looking forlorn. "Girls occasionally end up missing, and so do heirs to family fortunes. Money and power make people do awful things. Magic makes it easy to hide them well enough so there is no proof. Rumours remain, though. Simply said, unless I find protection or kill myself, first, I can guarantee that by the end of this week, if not well before that, I will be begging for death. And honestly, I don't think anyone other than you would be able to protect me from them. That's why I am offering all I have. I want to live."
Harry had to fight down a wave of heat running over his head when he listened to her tale. "And your solution to not become their sex slave is... to become MY sex slave?" he croaked, clearing his voice to be able to finish the sentence. " Like.. what? Why? How would you even? Why me? Like, am I actually just having a weird dream, or what is going on here?" he started blurting out questions, trying to get his head around what he just heard as he frantically paced to and fro in the room.
It took him a moment before he caught himself, took a deep breath and calmed himself down in order to reply in a more coherent manner.
"Okay, got it. Fine. I see what you mean. But, playing along for just a second – even if I were to agree - according to your own words right now, how on earth do you think that this would work? People would just go along with you moving in here? I just get to keep you? The Ministry, Hogwarts, the Death Eaters, and society in general just go along with this and it starts raining butterscotch and treacle tart?"
Marietta's resolve faltered as she told him her plan, her gaze firmly down as she didn't dare to meet his eyes. "We meet the goblins, and I sell myself to you as a bonded mistress," she almost whispered, her face flushing hotly in shame of what she just said, now that she had spoken it out aloud.
It didn't help her that Harry stated that he had no clue what she was talking about, and made an inquiry regarding the term.
"It's something that parents use to keep daughters in line. A horror story, made even worse by the fact that it is true. This is what we get threatened with to make sure we remain pure until the wedding, and accept the chosen groom – if we spoil the bride price, we can still be sold to the highest bidder, into an enchanted sex slavery, because whores don't deserve to be wives."
"That's... harsh," Harry commented. "That can't be legal! That's slavery."
"Yeah, and? Ever heard of house elves? And the Goblins, for whom this, and other forms of indentured servitude is a perfectly fine business transaction. Actually, it is their way to marry, so there are treaties to make sure this is legal in Wizarding law, too. The fact that this is a legal back door for rich men to own young women enslaved to their will is probably just a coincidence," Marietta responded sardonically. "The legal fiction is that we become Goblin wives, which means we are not even considered Witches, anymore. Therefore, it does not count as a proper Wizard marriage, and imparts us with a legal status just slightly above livestock. And the enthralment enchantment, a rune set branded into our skin, connected to our magical core, leaves us under the complete control of the wizard we are bonded to."
"You actually become property? And just how complete is that control?" Harry asked with a puzzled expression..
"Remember the lesson with the Unforgivables? It is said to be like an Imperius curse. Along with other ensnarements that keep you from freeing yourself. And yes property, like livestock, or a house elf – those were apparently bonded to humans using a similar ritual after they lost a war," Marietta tried to relate her information in a way she thought would make things clear, in the most Ravenclaw way.
"That's just vile," Harry responded, frowning. "So elves are getting branded by their owners? I always wondered how that worked."
"No, their bond is hereditary, and a part of their essence. Some weird quirk of their magic made it a racial trait, I think. They are born with a bond to their parent's master, but their magic is somewhat different to ours. While it is supposed to be a permanent link for humans or goblins, their bond can be easily severed and transferred to another for some reason, that's why they can be bought and sold. They simply bond to the new owner. But without a master, they'll eventually go insane and die," she expanded.
"Splendid. Just great," Harry huffed. " So to be absolutely clear. You want my protection, and to get that, you are proposing to become my actual slave, mind controlled, and magically bound to my will, like a house-elf, or maybe even worse? Am I getting that right?"
"Not quite particular what I planned for my future, but to be honest – I am a pureblood girl. Having a choice in who gets to fuck me is pretty much a luxury for my kind," she sighed, realizing by the look he gave her that he still had not gotten the context.
"Arranged marriages, Potter. I can date around as much as I like, but in the end, my parents will decide whom I marry. Unless of course I manage to present them with someone suitable, but that person will still need to meet the demands of my family for a formal betrothal to be arranged. That's the main reason girls even go to Hogwarts – catch a good one before he is taken. If you don't manage to get someone lined up and a betrothal arranged by seventh year, chances are you might end up with an old geezer. There are not many young single men to be found outside of school, but there are always older men with power, rank, and money," she expanded on her point, with a frown firmly planted on her face.
"And while not as bad as a Goblin bond, a magical marriage contract can be almost as bad, depending on the who, what and how of circumstances," she grumbled.
"Now, if there isn't a betrothal contract set up before I turn 17 – which would be lucky, because I have no say in that while I am a minor - I am in theory free to do as I wish, if I am willing to face the consequences. But getting cast out means no inheritance, no dowry, and social and economic shunning by every pureblood, just to set an example for their daughters. Unless my husband is able to overcome those barriers, we'd be better off to leave the country. Didn't you wonder why Cho pretty much threw herself at you, last year, even though she just lost her boyfriend? She's a pureblood, and from a very old traditional Chinese family, so her suitor needed to either be rich or of good pedigree to make up for not being Chinese. Losing the star-pupil boyfriend, heir to a Ministry official and a Wizengamot seat, meant she really needed to find someone really good, quick, or some rich widower from China might have been the better offer in her father's eyes," she continued, her voice slowly fading.
A stray thought hit her, and she started rambling along. "You know, she'd probably shagged you in the blink of an eye if you'd shown any interest, just to get you out of Granger's and Weasley's clutches, she was that desperate. I was... really not okay with her choice, because of the bad press and stuff, but I was her friend, so I tried to support her... but you just you strung her along with your harem, trying to get her to put out, and I really resented you for that. I'm sorry, I realise now that you just weren't aware of this, but that's how I felt," she finished with a small voice, finally running out of steam.
Harry was looking quite shell-shocked at her explanation, with no reply in sight, so she took it as a hint to continue her speech.
"I'd choose a contract marriage on any terms over a mistress bond, any day, but since I am still a minor, I can't just marry you. But as desperate of a choice as it might be, like my father would be able to, even against my will, so am I able to sell myself into thralldom. To the goblins, it's just business, and their age of consent is the onset of puberty. It's a horrifying choice that means I really need to put all my trust into the person I chose, but it is the only legal way out of the trap I am currently in," she set the stage, trying to make her point to the still one hundred percent flabbergasted boy in front of her..
"So why did I choose you? You have a habit of helping people. Your club - you could just have studied with a few Gryffindors, in the common room, no issues. But you wanted to help others. Even knowing you could get into huge trouble, you did it, because you felt it was the right thing to do. I don't know if hero is the right term, but you care about people. I need protection. You have fought dragons, wizards and You-know-who himself, so you are my best bet. And no matter how bad I felt about you last term, at least you're not an absolute git," she explained, trying to end with a joke to lighten the mood.
"Thanks, I guess," Harry huffed, but with a crooked smile. "So that's why you chose to be my sex slave? Really? Because I am not an absolute git?" He finished with a dry chuckle at her statement.
"Is it that hard to understand?" she said with a slight huff, herself, amused by the silliness of the situation, as well.
"Okay, talking business - I know you don't like me, maybe you even hate me a bit for the crap I put you through last year. I'll take that chance. Way better than a swarm of homicidal psycho rapists. I understand you won't be nice or sweet or anything with me. And I am fine with that, to be honest. Never was a overly romantic lovey-dovey person, myself, so if I end up just a toy you fuck the sweet Merlin out of, well... fine! Not great, but I can work with that. You might get nasty or maybe even cruel with me on occasion, but be honest – would you debase me, or deliberately hurt me, just for fun? Rent me out to make money?" she ranted on, internally glad to see him disgusted at the mere thought.
"Yeah, you're just not that kind of guy. Now, what do you think would happen if a girl gave that kind of power to any other man? Say, any of your classmates, huh?" She challenged him.
Worrying his lip, briefly, he nodded in acceptance of her point. "Neville wouldn't be as bad, I think," he tried to defuse the tension.
"Longbottom, huh?" she responded. "Yeah, fine, can't see him being that bad - though, you never know with the quiet ones. Might end up with some weird plants stuck in places, you know," she replied, absentmindedly, the energy of her latest rant slowly subsiding. "But he'd never go along with it, anyway, he just wouldn't," she muttered, tiredly, abruptly stopping when she realised she said it out loud.
"And here comes the flip side," Harry muttered. "Knew there'd be one."
For a second time, his angry stare caught her eyes, fixing her to her spot. "I am warning you - you better come clean, now. I hate being lied to, and considering what you are offering, you really do not want to end up with me being royally pissed off with you after you become my property, don't you think?"
Acutely aware of the truth to his words, even more than he was, Marietta frantically shook her head.
"So, tell me all the bad things this would mean for me," he prompted, satisfied that she would tell him at least most of the truth.
"First, and most obviously, people will know you own a sex slave. It is not illegal, and even the lightest wizards will treat me according to my new status, disregarding their opinion on it. But you are from a light family, so it will be a shock to people. There will be various reactions, just make an educated guess for the people you know. There will most likely be some public outrage when it becomes known, and you will be struck off several lists for invitations, for sure. Second, it will be hard to find a wife that is fine with that sex slave thing, I'd say. Then again, some pureblood witches might be fine with you having your outlet and leaving them alone after the obligatory heir is conceived, as long as the terms of the marriage contract are kept," she started covering the main points, while Harry could only shake his head and mutter "purebloods" at her latest statement.
"You won't get an heir out of me, either – the enchantment will leave me barren," she added sadly. "Don't know why, but people usually count that as a bonus that their toy can't get knocked up. Also makes it tolerable for pureblood wives."
"So people would hate me? Send owls and all that? Treat me like an outcast? " Harry inquired, seeing her nod anxiously in reply. "That's all? Just another Tuesday for me, Marietta," he laughed, sardonically, shrugging his shoulders.
"So you agree?" she asked, looking up at him hopeful and terrified at the same time.
"I don't know," Harry replied, looking down at her with a frown, and then pacing up and down a few times. "I just still don't think this is a good idea," he admitted.
"Is it the letters? I know I am damaged goods," she addressed what she felt was the main problem. "I deserved it. I can't undo what I've done. I'll have to live with it, and with the consequences. I can't get rid of them. I tried! Pomfrey tried! Nothing helps. But I can cover it up for some time. You will hardly notice them if I wear makeup, or cover them with a spell," she whined.
"Maybe Granger can remove it. She wouldn't for me, but for you she might, if it's even possible. Or a mask! It can be covered, you'll barely notice - my body is still fine", she protested with tears, feeling desperate at the prospect of him refusing, and more than a little hurt by it, going as far as to stand up and hold her coat open for him to see, himself.
Harry quickly reacted by pushing her hands back together, stopping her from exposing herself to him. "Stop that. Please, stop," he pleaded as he continued to hold her, realising that she had started to swoon in his grip. "Are you alright?" he inquired, sounding concerned.
" I... Sorry, I... need... sleep... I can't...Sorry!" she stammered. Finally, that last outburst had taken her last reserves, and she was out of the fumes she'd been running on. Spent, she just couldn't go on, anymore, on just adrenaline alone. Even agitated as she was right now, she was slipping in and out of consciousness, in fits of panic whenever she realised that she had blacked out on him, again.
"It's okay," Harry cooed, now holding her tight to keep her from plummeting to the ground when her legs gave out. "That's normal. I get this all the time after... days like yours," he talked to her, looking around in search for options, and finally deciding to simply put her back onto his bed as the only feasible one, gently guiding her to sit down. "You're just exhausted. Come on, let's get you into bed," he murmured to himself as much as to her, working to get her shoes off.
"Do you... want me? We could... I mean... you can, if you," she slurred, half asleep, but still trying to make her sale.
"I'd prefer you being awake for that, I'd think. Get some sleep. We'll talk later," Harry replied, smiling amiably at her as she just sat there, staring blankly ahead with her addled mind running in lazy loops. Fetching the blanket from where it had ended up on the ground, Harry held it out for her as he gestured at her to lay down.
"Thanks," Marietta mumbled as she took the blanket from him. She paused briefly, but then shrugged off her coat, letting it drop to the bed before pulling it out under her, not even realising that Harry hastily turned around when she suddenly started hopping and moving around in a half nude state. Fiddling with her torn top for a moment, she gave up, and laid down, pulling the blanket up, more by reflex than by conscious thought by that time. She was gone almost the moment her head hit the pillow.
For the next few minutes, Harry stood next to the bed, contemplating why on earth it was always him who got into these crazy situations. Sighing, he flicked off the light, pulled up his chair and sat down next to the bed, trying to get to grips with the situation. He managed to hold on for five minutes until he, too, dozed off.
Predictably, his dreams were of quite a different variety than the usual nightmares. Scenarios, ideas, and a lot of soft skin, especially in the form of soft, well-formed mounds with perky nipples, and legs – one must never forget bare legs. Bottoms, too – those are the foundation of a well-shaped girl, after all.
As the morning drew closer, his dreams of... let's call it 'cuddling' a pair of pink, pear-shaped soft cushions quite vigorously with a mounting feeling of building pressure were abruptly interrupted when he suddenly found himself looking down at a few familiar faces.
Harry had a lot of reasons to hate Voldemort, and was well versed with the depths of depravity that man delved into, but interrupting a dream about making out with cushion-sized boobies by suddenly having him to look at Delores Umbridge's mug was definitely a low point, even for a Dark Lord. There are certain things that simply were not done. Period.
That said ugly mug was contorted in a painful whimper as she picked herself back up to a kneeling position next to a toppled chair along a breakfast table made it almost bearable. It seemed to be a morning debrief of the nightly actions, given that Voldemort was currently taking a sip of tea.
"What a disappointment. Here I am, graciously loaning you the help of my followers for your little pet project, and you fail at even such an easy task. One you were personally invested in. This is unacceptable, Delores. My Death Eaters do not fail in their duties. Now, I will allow you to continue this little hobby of yours, as long as it doesn't interfere with your duties towards me, but only because I am intrigued with your plans, and how they could be used to prolong the suffering of deserving people," the sibilant voice of the Dark Boner Killer sounded through the room, with a couple of his Death Eaters in attendance. Dholov, the Lestrange brothers, and of course, Bellatrix, looking as if someone had stolen the puppy she was planning to kill later, to relax before bedtime.
Looking at her from Voldemort's vantage point gave him a good view down her robes, and Harry had to admit that she definitely had been a looker, and still was quite easy on the eyes, especially since she had recovered quite a lot from her Azkaban stay. Harry could feel the heat and pounding in his loins from his earlier dream return slowly at the sight. That bitch did indeed have some nice knockers, and he was pretty sure the robe was the only thing she was wrapped up in at the moment. He'd kill her when the time came, but ogling her maliciously was enough revenge for now.
"Now, now, Bella – I am sure we will get to test this idea soon enough. Even if we need to find an alternative target. Speaking of," Voldemort paused, turning to face a blond man on the other side of the table, who Harry immediately recognized as Malfoy, senior, now that he had a closer look. The man looked more haggard than he remembered, a bit haunted and shaken, though. It vaguely reminded him of when he met Sirius, in a way. Or Bellatrix, after her escape. Thinking of her, he involuntarily snuck another glance at her out of the corner of Voldemort's vision. Yep, definitely no bra. And she was either very cold or quite excited to be at this meeting. She definitely had put her meat back on since her stay at the Dementor spa.
Only then it dawned on Harry that these men had been arrested and should have been in Azkaban! But there they were, free! Did they escape that quickly? Or have they never even been sent there? Given the way Malfoy was looking, he had been there, if only briefly. The others did not show any of the obvious signs of distress, but maybe they were dealing better with the experience, being used to it, already. Or Malfoy was a pussy who could not deal with some existential anguish. Harry's malevolent musings were interrupted by his host speaking up, again.
"What about our other missing guest for our project, Lucius? I distinctly remember sending you out to extend... my invitation to join as a second test subject, didn't I? First you fail to pick up the prophecy, and now you can't even handle a simple abduction raid?"
Only a minuscule wince betrayed Malfoy's fake nonchalance as he replied. "Forgive me, Master. We visited the given location, but encountered no one there. A brief search showed that some stacks of clothing were missing from wardrobes, and the coach stables were vacated, too. I reasoned they must be on vacation somewhere, and decided to erase all signs of our visit in order to attempt another visit once we are notified of their return."
"How surprisingly insightful of you, dear Lucius. Remarkable how your own brief vacation has taught you to make correct deductions and plan accordingly. Make sure to make use of these new-found abilities on a regular basis from now on, will you?" the silky voice of Voldemort replied, and Harry felt the man's glee as Malfoy's face visibly darkened a few shades as the barbs found their target. Voldemort turned slightly, looking at Bella, who was laughing at her Master's excellent joke, along with the other people present at the table. Obviously, Harry was not the only one appreciating the way her crazed cackling was jiggling her more attractive features. Voldemort and Harry shared this brief moment, until Voldemort decided to speak up, once more.
"Oh, and Cruci..."
Voldemort never finished that curse, at least to Harry's knowledge, when suddenly, that constantly building pressure in the back of his mind started to amplify rapidly, along with a warm tingle, which started to turn into a wave of heat cursing through his veins. Harry absent-mindedly noticed Voldemort wincing, dropping the curse and reaching for his temple, pressing his bony hand against it, while Harry's world exploded into a cascade of darkness and heat as he suddenly found himself back in his room.
ooOOoo
"What... are you doing?" he blurted out at the girl in front of him, confused, and barely able to catch air as he had to hold on to the chair, fighting to not slip off as his own body was bucking wildly.
"Choking," was the raspy response from Marietta, kneeling in front of him, trying to hack up a lung. Only when she managed to clear her windpipe and looked back at him, he could see her trying to wipe her face, and then her hands clean, using her tattered shirt.
Then, the familiar smell hit him and he recognized the tell-tale feeling in his loins, and his mind took a spin.
"Boy, that was a lot more pressure than I anticipated," Marietta sniggered to herself, before coughing a few more times, trying to clear her throat. "Went up the wrong pipe, too. Damn, that burns," she lamented, clearing her throat a few additional times.
"Did... did you just...why?" Harry pressed out between deep gulps of air, staring at her, incredulously.
"Woke up from a bad dream, and saw you there, guarding me, and hadn't even made a move on me, though I told you you could if you felt like it. And since you had a good dream, obviously, I decided to help you out, you know. You did what I asked for, so I figured I should hold up my side of the deal, too," she babbled happily, feeling accomplished for what she had managed.
"Not too bad for a first try, I guess. Was it good for you? Did you like it?" she asked him, hopefully.
Like it? The more Harry thought about it, he came to the conclusion that he certainly did not enjoy that experience, not at all. His angry frown was enough to communicate that.
"Sorry. I guess I am not up to your usual standards, yet, but I'm pretty sure I'll get that right, soon," Marietta replied in a disappointed tone when she noticed it.
"Usual... standards?" Harry almost snarled back at her, angrily, even though he was still fighting for breath. "What... does... that mean?"
Marietta was still distracted, wiping at her face, and did not recognize the warning signs of an impending explosion, and simply carried on."Nothing in particular, just... I don't know what I did wrong, but you suddenly went almost limp on me when I thought I was doing quite well. Really had to work at it to get you back up and to finish. Obviously, I am not quite as good as Granger or Weasley, yet - but I'll work on it, I promise."
"You will - Wait! What? You… you think that I am doing.. that... with Hermione and, oh god, I hope you are thinking Ginny and not Ron," Harry wheezed, trying to voice his confusion, anger, and whatnot, while trying to catch some air and stop his heart from trying to pop his ribcage at the same time. "Why on earth? Why'd you think they'd do that?" He demanded, while finally becoming fully aware of his state of dress, and hastily tucking himself back in with a few mouthed expletives.
"They don't?" She replied, totally baffled. "But.. how are they keeping you off the market then? I don't know about Granger and how Muggles do those things, but I am pretty sure at least Weasley would have been taught the same things I was?"
For a brief moment, it was now Harry's turn to stare, incredulously. "They taught you that?" He finally pressed out, not believing his ears.
"Well, just in theory, and some hints and tips about how to. It's usually a cousin or so, it would be weird to hear it from your mother, you see. It's usually her who asks someone younger to come visit for that talk, but they pretend it never happened, those things are not spoken about in the family," Marietta explained, babbling along happily, reminiscing of these times of almost forbidden girl talk that made you finally feel like a grown, up and not a baby anymore.
"Usually happens in the summer before your second year at Hogwarts, or after your first period, whichever comes first. Older cousin comes for a visit for a week or so, takes you aside, explains to you what the monthlies are and stuff, the spells and products for it, the birds and the bees, you know. And then explains to you how to catch a man and keep him, and why it is very important to get one as soon as possible, you know. It starts out as girl talk and stuff, but becomes really pillow-y at the end of those days," she concluded, quite flustered as she remembered the spicier details.
"And why would that be?" Harry asked, his baffled curiosity now making him a captive audience, his anger temporarily shelved, but not forgotten, as he could barely believe the things he was told.
"You see – if you get them in the first to third year, you have a chance to get to know them and become friends for a while, which makes everything so much easier and nicer later on. If you wait till fourth or fifth year, you pretty much have to get at least into snogging pretty soon to keep their attention and defend your territory. And for boys sixth and up, well, snogging alone will not be enough - you pretty much will end up in a broom closet very quickly, because unattached sixth and seventh year boys are pretty much a life-line for girls who haven't scored, yet," she told him.
"Given your fame, you'd be in the same category next year – pretty sure girls will start throwing themselves at you! They already would have, if it weren't for Granger and Weasley claiming dibs on you – no one would like to contest that - those two can be scary - but if they don't sort it out who gets a go at you, officially, soon, at least Cho might be willing to try a second time, having a foot in the door, already, so to speak," she mused, oblivious to her renewed stoking of his simmering rage, only barely held in check by his incredulous listening to the things that were going on at school without him ever knowing.
"Somebody will definitely go after your friend Ronald, soon, though," she allowed, speculating along. "He only has Granger shielding him, and I am pretty sure the next time he's having a spat with her, either Patil or Brown will jump him for a chance to pry him loose, probably literally," she prophesied.
"Really? RON? Ronald Weasley? Tall, red hair, hangs out with me? Eats like a pig? That Ron Weasley? I mean, I am his friend, but even I really can't see that happen," Harry protested, the scenario getting too outrageous for him to believe.
"Mark my words – you are going to see Ronald get snogged thoroughly senseless the first time Granger is turning her back on him, and that girl will be vicious in her assault, to make sure he's totally besotted," she insisted, laughing at his disgusted grimace.
She was kinda confused when his mood suddenly went down the drain. "They'll get their chance soon, then," he said in a defeated voice, visibly fighting tears. "She's not coming back this year," he admitted. Marietta was definitely surprised by that.
"What? Why?"
"Fighting Death Eaters?" Harry snapped back at her. "Her parents finally made her spill the beans, and by the time she was done talking, they all had plane tickets to France. They're going to sit the coming war out over there. Not that I can blame them," he ranted, only stopping when she surprised him by reaching out and putting her hand on his knee, softly.
"She'll be fine, and safe," she softly said. "You'll see her again."
Harry just shrugged her off, angrily. "I really have to warn Ron," he mused. "If they are that desperate and trained like you, they might trick him and get preggers," he added, darkly.
To his surprise, Marietta was horrified by that remark. "What? No! Definitely not! Trust me! Both girls most likely to go for him are purebloods – they wouldn't dare to go that far!"
"Sure? You told Cho would, and you pretty much just did the same!" He growled back.
"What? NO! I didn't do that! I just used my hands and mouth, giving you a reward. I'd never!" she sputtered, before she realised his mood swing. "Why are you so angry at me?" she whined in protest, clearly confused.
"You're a bloody wonder, aren't you?" Harry said with a sardonic chuckle. "For all that training, did nobody ever mention the importance of asking?"
Seeing her still trying to figure it out, he tried to paint a picture. "Put yourself in my spot. You just let some half-stranger from school - I don't know, Malfoy, Zabini, Fletchley, pick your choice – you let him crash at your place when he got stranded here, begging for a favour, and when you wake up to a - I'll grant you that – bone-shaking orgasm, you look down and see them with their tongue stuck up your fanny, grinning at you. How would you feel about that?"
It took a moment for the picture to form in her mind. He could see the moment she caught on when her eyes suddenly went wide open. "Oh… OH! OH NO! I'm... I'm... I really didn't... you must believe me, I'd never... BUGGER! Oh Morgana, I messed this up, didn't I? I'm so sorry!" she started stammering in horror once the coin dropped, her hands flailing around as she alternated in reaching out towards him and covering her mouth in shock, not knowing what to do.
"Yeah, right!" Harry huffed. "And then some. Honestly - is it that much of a stretch to bother asking before initiating sex? Just as well, assuming no malice or agenda, if you want to reward someone that way, it might be a good idea to at least wake him up so he can enjoy the show," he drawled.
"I was too busy doing my... thing... to notice," she blurted. "It never occurred to me you could sleep through that. Oh bugger. Kind of should have realised that when you started to go limp, I mean… I'm… Oh bugger! Good job, Marietta! Well done. I, see, I'm really…. Damnit. Sorry! And double so that you didn't really get anything out of it," she rambled, her eyes starting to well up.
"I just can't do anything right, can't I?" she lamented. "Do you want me to do it again? I promise to do my best. Maybe if I strip naked, you'll get in the mood again?"
Harry countered her desperate advances with a glum shake of his head.
"Do you.. want something else?" she asked in a small, defeated voice, ducking her head and averting her eyes when his glare found her. He held it for a second, before exhaling a long, deep huff of air, closing his eyes and shaking his head at the absurdity of his situation, life, and the universe in general.
"I'll take a rain check, if you don't mind. I had the worst night here on that chair, and I really need a shower, and some change of clothes," he finally commented, referring to his now stained boxers and legs.
Meeting her eyes, and noticing her being just as stained, just above the belt instead of below, and his ensuing actual examination of the sight she provided caused a reaction that only boys his age could have that quickly after the events causing her to look like that. Comparing her with Bella, she actually came out ahead in the competition. Not that there was any competition between a healthy 16 year old girl and a woman more than twice her age in the eyes of a teenager. He'd rather had watched her doing this to him than peeking down Bella's robes.
The sudden realisation that he was equally mad at what he had been watching during her stunt as for the actual stunt, itself, made him chuckle slightly, doing wonders for her anxiety without even noticing. "God, you have me riding an emotional rollercoaster here, girl. Confused, angry, tired, getting off, angry again, horny, then back to angry... I… I…" He noticed that he had started rambling, and stopped with a long sigh, leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, starting to rub his face with both hands. Stopping and staying in that pose for a few moments, he finally dropped his hands to only cover his mouth, sighing deeply, again, before finally opening his eyes and looking at her.
Seeing her look back at him with concern and a hint of fear over her face, he sighed again and let his hands drop into his lap.
"Let me wash up quickly and check if we're all clear. We'll get you washed up and sorted out once I'm back and the coast is clear, alright?" he told her with a hint of a smile, as much as he could muster at the moment. Her obvious relief at the small gesture was quite awkward to stomach for Harry, so he quickly spoke up, again.
Jabbing his thumb back over his shoulder, indicating his wardrobe, he advised her regarding some clothing options. "Why don't you take a look through what counts for a wardrobe in my life - if you find something that fits, feel free. We'll get some clothes for you later, ok? We really should get going if time is such an issue as you think it is."
Taking her nod for the agreement it was, he quickly got up, and flicked on the painfully bright light, confusing her quite a bit about how he did this magic. But before she could ask about this obviously not-gas light and how it worked, he grabbed some stuff and made his way out to the bathroom, leaving her behind to wrestle with the remains of her camisole as she tried to figure out if it was salvageable.
Sighing and giving up on her top, she pulled it off and started rooting through the cabinet, finding the least objectionable - and smallest possible in size - shirt and proceeded to pull it over her head.
"Now, now, what do we have here," an oily voice cackled behind her as she finished pulling the hem down. Turning around, she saw an obese boy in pyjamas blocking the door with his bulk.
"I thought I would get to beat up the freak for waking me in the middle of the night, but instead, I find myself a pretty bird to snatch," he said with a leer.
"Sod off, this isn't your business," Marietta snapped back, while trying to cover up as well as she could when she noticed the boy undressing her with his eyes.
"Oh, I'm making it mine," Dudley spoke, before he moved much quicker than you'd expect it. Even though Marietta jumped with a scream, he got a hold of the neckline of her loose shirt and pulled her closer, ripping the threadbare thing mostly to shreds as he did so.
"Let me go!" Marietta cried, grabbing his arm with both hands, trying to pull herself free while at the same time attempting to not expose herself more than she currently was. Dudley was ignoring her feeble attempts, laughing at her as if she were a mere bug he'd caught, and enjoying the show.
Until she responded by sinking her teeth into his hand, hard.
Yelling out in pain, he put his other paw in her face and shoved her away, roughly, sending her flying into the rickety cabinet, smashing right through it and going down with the debris of the shelf boards. Due to the carpentry taking the brunt of the impact, and slowing her descent down, along with the general bounciness of wizards when it comes to damage, she found herself not knocked out, but rather sitting on her bruised bum, and mightily pissed.
Stumbling to her feet and seeing him still occupied with cursing and inspecting his actually bleeding hand, she took a step at him and launched a punch into his face, only to cry out in pain as her wrist complained loudly about the immovable object in its path. Dudley only recoiled a bit. The punch did hurt, but nothing close to affecting him. He had much worse in the ring, after all.
Meanwhile, it was Marietta's turn to cradle her hand in pain, as she was reminded that physics of momentum and mass mostly did apply to wizards, still.
"I was going to be nice about it, but now you're gonna pay, broad", Dudley growled as he grabbed her doubled over form, and flung her onto the bed. Marietta immediately started kicking at his advancing form and screaming for Harry.
"Stop that," Dudley growled as he tried to catch her flailing legs to protect himself, which he finally managed, and started advancing further.
"Oi! What the hell happened to your face, bitch? Potter already had his fun with yer, I see," he stated when he finally looked above her shoulders, for the first time, stalling briefly at the sight. "Well, if rough is what you like, you've found the right man for the job."
ooOOoo
'What was that?' Harry thought as he heard some noise while he was busy scrubbing himself down at the basin, forgoing a shower exactly for noise reasons. Turning off the water, he listened, and immediately heard the panicked screams of a girl.
Sprinting, he dashed out of the bathroom and over to his room. Through the wide open door, he saw the outline of Dudley, bent over the bed in his now trashed room.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the enormous back of his cousin. Another step in, he was able to see that Marietta was on said bed, and desperately trying to fight Dudley off, as he tried to force himself down onto her.
Not even breaking step, he launched a penalty kick into Dudley's groin from behind. Harry wasn't aware of hearing a popping noise or not, but he was pretty sure he felt something give as he bruised his foots' arch against Dudley's pelvis.
The sound Dudley made as he suddenly stood ramrod straight and then toppled over to the side was almost comical. The sound of Marietta's bare feet forcibly connecting with his face as she kicked out to get him off her was less comical, but far more satisfying.
Marietta jumped out of the bed and proceeded to recreate that sound a couple of times before they were interrupted.
"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE? WHO ARE YOU? LEAVE MY DUDLEY ALONE!" A voice suddenly roared in the room, and Harry felt himself shouldered out of the way. The spinning sensation was stopped by his desk, sending everything on it flying as he braced against it in order to not bounce off and to the floor. His grunt was followed by a squeak of pain as Marietta was thrown back onto the bed by another vicious shove.
"He tried to rape her!" Harry yelled back, trying to shake off the sting in his back where he had hit the desk.
"Nonsense! That hussy probably asked for it!" Vernon replied immediately, almost as if out of reflex, not bothering to ask any follow-up questions before continuing. "Would do her well to get some from a real man, would clean the freak off her!" he thundered.
Harry stared at his uncle, who was now ignoring Harry and blatantly ogling Marietta, who was once more desperately trying to cover up with the blanket, frightened out of her mind by the sudden repeat of the situation. Instead of bothering with an answer, Harry simply grabbed his chair by the back and broke it over his uncle's face.
Marietta chose the momentary pause while the man's blubber slowly came to a stop on the ground to hop over the duo and hide behind Harry, who was looking around in the chaos that was his room, stuff strewn all over the place.
"Lumos!" he commanded, and to Marietta's surprise, a bright light emerged from under some clutter next to the almost broken desk, causing Harry to fish for and retrieve his wand from down there.
"How did you do that?" Marietta cried out in surprise, staring at him in shock as he was taking aim at his relatives, his face contorted in anger.
Their conversation was prevented from even starting by a loud wail, and the willowy form of his aunt arriving, throwing herself in front and over her son and husband, trying to shield them, against all laws of physics, with her body.
"Don't hurt them!" she wailed and begged.
The act of her doing so enraged Harry even further. Marietta could feel his magic building up as he was slipping into a towering rage like she had only once in her life felt - in the headmaster's office, when Dumbledore stopped Umbridge from manhandling her.
All three of his relatives were noticing the same as Harry seemed to grow in size as his withering glare of pure hatred bored down on them. As much as they were able to, they shrank away from him, but were limited to cowering against the bed frame in a frightened huddle.
"All these years, I thought I was living a nightmare under this roof. Only to see that it could have been so much worse," he growled, shaking in anger as he laid into them.
For a few seconds, he stared them down, and Marietta felt like this could get really messy, and spoil all plans. So far, she was pretty sure an owl was already heading their way for that Lumos thing he did to his wand, but if he were to start cursing them, they'd summon Aurors on top of that. She had to do something, quickly, to get him off balance and snap out of it.
"If that is the part where you flay them alive and ravage me on top of their bleeding carcasses, could we please go ahead? We've got business at the bank and it takes quite some time to wash the blood out of my hair," she dead-panned, making the Dursleys stare at her in shock, and then at Harry in abject terror.
Her off-hand comment was enough to break Harry's momentum, but he was still staring holes into his relatives, and his magic was still making her hair stand slightly on edge.
"What now? Shall I go get dressed, or should I not bother, yet? We don't have all day, I haven't even had a shower, yet, and still got your stuff all over my face," she upped the ante when Harry had not cursed anyone, still, after a few seconds of terrorising his relatives at wand point.
"Oh get dressed, already," Harry finally snapped, still oblivious to the fact that Marietta currently had ample opportunity to check out if her book knowledge of male anatomy matched reality.
"Says the pot to the kettle," she quipped. "Would love to, but these rags are all that I've got left," she complained.
"Keep an eye on them! If they move a muscle, roast them like the filthy pigs they are. I'm getting us ready to leave," Harry growled, handing her his wand.
Ignoring everyone, he pulled on his school uniforms, and then started throwing all his belongings into his school trunk. He briefly paused when he spotted a woman's handbag in the corner near the door. "Is that yours?" he asked.
"Yes - all that's left," Marietta spoke, her voice wavering as she tried to keep up the facade.
"You want to carry it, or should I put it in the trunk?"
"I'll take it, don't mind."
Finishing packing in record speed, he took a last look around. "Here, take these," he told Marietta, handing her a bundle of what looked like his school uniform, and gesturing at her to return his wand. "From third year, should be your size, I think," he stated, as they exchanged inventory.
"You can get washed up on the way, bathroom is the first door on the left. Don't forget your coat and bag, I'll finish with this and wait at the door," he informed her.
Marietta nodded and left, obediently, leaving Harry to face the virtually petrified family staring at his wand. For quite some time, there was nothing but the sound of breathing in this room, as his hard gaze slowly meandered over the assembled bodies of his relatives. In the end, his gaze settled on his aunt.
"I would say that I pity you for living with scum like these two, but I know that you'd probably have held me down for them," he told her, his voice ice cold. "May your god have pity on your soul," he spat, brushing past her, dragging his trunk out of the room for the very last time.
Marietta was already waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, having only briefly washed up and dressed, obviously anxious to get out of this hell-hole and leaving as quickly as possible to prevent her own personal hell from coming to be.
Rubbing at her left eye, she was puzzled as he stopped to take a long look into the cupboard under the stairs for some reason, but before she could ask, he abruptly turned, grabbed his trunk and stormed out of the house, his wand already rising to call the Knight Bus.