FicWad

She blew a breath into the air, something that always relaxed her. Maybe it reminded her of when her mother smoked cigarettes and felt calm immediately afterwards, but it always helped.

Now… it was helping. Probably.

At least at this point, she could see that she was blowing this out of proportion, and she certainly couldn't kick Harley out for this indiscretion.

She stood up, her bare feet sliding against the bare floor as she slid away from the door, and swiftly opened it.

She winced at the sound that immediately hit her, and her heart ached. To hear her girlfriend cry, knowing that it was her fault, cut deep inside Ivy, making her pause.

She made a promise to herself, right then and there, that she would never make her Harley cry again.

To be angry at her for such a trivial little thing was ludicrous to begin with. Her Harley was bi-curious, and she just couldn't let that go? She let a guy kiss her, and she enjoyed it. Hardly a handjob, was it?

She knew, deep down, if she didn't have such a heated hatred for men, that she wouldn't have gotten into such a fit.

She leaned against the corner of the short hallway, knowing that her girl was just out of her view, blaming herself for everything.

Tears pricked at her eyes. She didn't deserve such a beautiful, sweet girl. It was an ironic thought, having blamed Harley's teenage hormones and naivety earlier, and yet she herself was the hard-headed, immature one.

She blinked her tears away, and pushed herself from the wall. Her bare feet padded across the threshold into the room.

She shuddered as a chill rushed past her. She felt it seep into her very bones, and she felt cold. She wrapped her hands around herself, and wished she had something more than her dress shirt as clothing.

Her brow furrowed – the temperature in her greenhouse was always at a set, warm temperature.

More importantly, she had never once been cold since the incident that turned her into what she was today.

Her eyes narrowed. Something unnatural was happening. It was far beyond a sixth sense. She knew that whatever that was that affected her was not a feeling of foreboding, like a small chill up her spine. Someone did that to warn her of their presence.

Or so she thought. She didn't see the almost imperceptible shimmer as the shield charm was erected behind her.

'Forgive me, Harleen,' she pleaded silently, before she slowly stepped backwards, intent on waiting until the presence showed him or herself. 'Himself.'

She felt a paralyzing shock, and she fell to the ground. Her head was conveniently – too conveniently for her tastes – hit the threshold of the hallway and the kitchen.

For a few, painful seconds, Pamela was forced to watch Harley bawl her eyes out, periodically whispering apologies to the paralyzed woman, mere meters away from her.

She tried to move her fingers, and cursed herself when she couldn't. /'Harley!' /She mentally screamed, her wild eyes pulsing with light, the chlorophyll in her veins working fast to bring her dead limbs back to life.

And then, a figure appeared out of nowhere, and Pamela was paralyzed once again, in shock.

She knew it was him. It had to be him. It couldn't have been anyone but him.

Had she had any control over her body, she would be trembling at the sight, with rage or fear – he certainly didn't look like a mere kid as he leaned against the counter, his dress shirt torn on his frame, his lightly tanned skin smudged with dirt. His lean body was still, conveying a relaxed confidence, as if he knew that all of his obstacles were out of his way.

There were no obstructions to his eyes, and from the side, she saw a shade of green that she had never seen before, except in the mirror. They curiously roamed her girlfriend, and she would have grit her teeth in anger.

Her body stiff as a board, she was forced to take in the scene for a few minutes. Neither moved. He never once moved a muscle, and she didn't look up from her hands.

Then – for a glorious, wonderful second – she looked up.

Directly at her.

And then she looked away to wipe the tears that were clouding her eyes.

And then she saw him.

------------------------

Ivy stopped her story, her head resting leisurely on Harry's chest. "What did you do to me, anyway?"

It took a few seconds for him to concentrate on what she meant – Harley's light breathing in his ear was a pleasant distraction. "I don't really know. I put up a shield to protect me from the vines. You're just supposed to hit it and bounce off. Maybe it reacted strangely to non-magic users. Where I come from, there are quite a few of me."

Pamela bit her bottom lip in concentration, her studious eyes pondering. "It could have been my DNA. I'm not exactly like everyone else."

Harry shrugged, mindful that the beautiful green-skinned woman had her head on his pectoral. "I wouldn't know. From what I've seen of this place so far… I wouldn't know what's normal and what's not."

"Any chance of telling us where you're from, exactly?" Ivy queried, her hand grazing over his hard stomach, her fingertips dancing across his sweat-glazed skin.

He closed his eyes at the wondrous feeling. He wasn't very ticklish, but her touch gave him a special tingle that he loved. "When Harley wakes up, I'll tell you both everything… I promise."

"I'll keep you to that… Harry," she muttered, very aware of the notion that his name had never escaped her lips before, and considering what her lips were closed around earlier, would probably leave room for concern, later.

Harry must've picked up on her thoughts. "So what made your attitude change?"

Pamela sighed, her breath making the sparse hairs on his stomach stand up. "You sound like you don't know. I can feel your heartbeat, and you truly don't know." She closed her eyes. "So at this point, I really don't fucking know."

"Harley said something about my powers doing this to her. So I guess you thought the same?" He didn't wait for a response. "So am I just that unappealing or something? Or did you two comically just fall for me, as if it's an impossible circumstance otherwise?" Harry tried not to sound too agitated, but Ivy could hear the slight increase in his heart rate.

The thump was almost a painful reminder in her, as that slight increase that conveyed his anger confirmed it – he had nothing to do with their reaction to him. They acted like needy whores toward him, and he, like any straight male, took the opportunity presented to him.

She slid her head off his chest and sidled up to his side, wrapping her hands around Harry's arm. She chose her next words carefully. "You don't understand…" she started slowly. "I… hate men. And Harley has a lot more self-control than that. There have been plenty of men who have approached us, and we deal with them accordingly. Not once did we ever consider… this."

Harry released a breath, staring up at the ceiling. "Sorry. I'm just not used to being wanted and rejected at the same time." His eyebrows furrowed, not noticing her slight guilty look. "I know someone like you. She hated men too. She reacted even more violently when her girlfriend asked me to the b… err, prom."

She tilted her head up towards him. "And? What happened?"

If all of his blood hadn't traveled elsewhere a few minutes earlier, he would have blushed at the memory. "She was… understandably pissed. I didn't even know they were dating. I already had a date anyway, so we all just let it go. The day after the ball, she apologized, and said that… well, her girlfriend, Cho, had a crush on me for the longest time, ever since we played each other in a sport my school has in the finals two years ago. She said that, at the least, they could still all be friends." Harry chuckled. "What I didn't know at the time was she was attracted to my girlfriend. It was the day after the ball, and she surprised almost everyone that night by how she looked." He smiled at the fond memory – he had never seen a girl so beautiful at that point. "We've all been friends ever since."

Pamela raised a beautifully arched eyebrow. "And what of the jealous girlfriend? Did she ever get a taste of yours?"

"A bloke never tells," Harry said sagely, his eyes twinkling.

"That means he porked her," a voice murmured, making Ivy jump, and Harry grin embarrassingly. "All three. At once. Can we all go to sleep now?"

"Harley… how long were you awake?" Pam queried nervously.

She cuddled up to Harry's arm a little more. "I woke up in the middle of my orgasm. And I haven't gotten a bit of sleep since."

Harry furrowed his brows, while Ivy flushed in embarrassment. "Did I miss something?"

"Remember when you woke up in her mouth? She did it to me first. But I wanted to see how far she would go. It was really hot." She purred a little, and wiggled her body against his arm, placing her hand on his chest, incidentally over Ivy's. They both felt a shock at the touch, and after a few moments of indecision, calmed, their hands gently caressing together.

Harry's chest rumbled beneath their fingers. "I'm glad you two made up."

Ivy raised an eyebrow. He was the one that broke them up, and she had no idea how he got them 'back together', as he put it, but it was not the time to discuss it. "We'll talk about this in the morning."

"Ditto," Harleen muttered against Harry's shoulder, her eyes fluttering shut.

Harry had a smirk on his face as he fell asleep, as his arms rested in the bosoms of the most beautiful villains in the world.

Sometimes, it sucked to be Harry Potter. This was not one of those times.

------------------------

Harleen's fingers tapped against the table, setting her mug of coffee down. "I see."

Pamela stopped fidgeting and grimaced. "This isn't funny, Harley."

The blonde smiled a mischievous smile. "It is, Pammy. It totally is."

Pamela sighed and leaned back. In hindsight, it would be absolutely hilarious.

She had finished her story, and Harley mimicked her actions from last night. It was pretty much the same situation, except for the fact that while Harley had no control over what happened to her when she first met Harry, Ivy had complete control over her own body the entire time she… raped them, really.

"Let's look at this retrospectively." Harley grinned. "I ran into a cute guy with a bondage fetish. He kissed me, and I liked it. I come to my most favorite hideout, and as it turns out, he followed me. I'm not sure if he was curious or he couldn't get enough, but he didn't attack either of us until I struck first. Everything was pretty consensual. He practically asked for permission when we," she hmmed to herself, "knocked boots, I guess."

Pamela rested her chin in her hands, remembering the entire consummation, but not really sure how she felt about it. "Yes, I vaguely remember you giving him an offer to 'Ride the Harley'."

The green/redhead glared at her. "Right, because I was single and interested, and so was he."

"And we're sure about that? About him being single?"

Harley shrugged carelessly. "If he isn't, then she's a lucky one, whoever she is." She looked ponderous. "It's weird, too; he showed up out of nowhere. Right in the middle of the street. He could be an alien or something. Friendliest alien I've ever met."

"Do you think there are more people who have his… power?"

Harley shook his head. "A few, maybe. But not many. And they don't seem to know where he is, and he doesn't seem to be in a hurry to contact them. I've been listening to his slip-ups. He seems to come from a society that has that power, but it's a minority. Sexy British accent, too." She sighed, and Pamela twitched. Harley noticed. "Not that your accent isn't sexy too, Red. Harley's voice isn't the best to hear."

Pam allowed herself a smirk. She had slowly gotten rid of Harley's Bostonian accent when she had taken her under her wing, but insisted that Harleen used it when she donned the pigtails and lycra suit. It gave her an entirely different personality, especially when she had to go to school the next day as mild-mannered schoolgirl, Harleen Quinzel.

Harley released her mug and ran her fingers through her wet, blonde hair. "I guess it's not too late to say 'I'm sorry Red,' is it?"

Poison Ivy smiled. "I could never be angry at you for long, Harley. You have that effect on me. The real problem is Harry. What do we do with him?"

"Ooh, can we keep him?"

Pam smirked, amused. "I don't think we can keep a human, Harley."

"But he doesn't have anywhere else to go! Maybe that's why he followed me, because he was just a lost kid, looking for a place to live! Please, Red! I'll feed him, and water him, and we'll have fun together all day!" She brought her hands together in a pleading motion.

Pam snorted. "That's an understatement." She thought to herself, and sighed. "That reminds me…"

Harley raised her eyebrow. "What?"

------------------------

Harry shuddered as the hot water splashed over his tense muscles. He closed his eyes, holding his messy hair under the steady, steaming stream. He scrubbed his face of the grime and sweat that he had accumulated over the past twenty-four hours, and freshened himself up for what was likely to come.

He knew that the moment he stepped out of the shower, he was going to have to fight his way out.

When they each woke up, half-an-hour ago, they came to a silent agreement – they would talk about what happened after they all took a long, very needed shower. Harry, his eyes closed out of respect, spelled a towel around their lean bodies, and both girls were so shocked by the sudden appearance that they jumped out of them. Pamela quickly picked up the towel, while Harley, after glancing at Harry, just gave the blushing boy a one-armed hug and thanked him for the towel. She parted and glanced at Pamela awkwardly, noting the prolonged stare the green-eyed girl cast at the green-eyed boy, and after picking up her towel, walked off to take her shower alone.

"You have twenty seconds to explain yourself," she told him in a no-nonsense fashion as soon as she heard the door close.

Harry opened his eyes, and his eyes strayed from Pamela's busty form embarrassingly. She raised an eyebrow at his modesty, and filed it away. "I saw a beautiful girl who was about to attack me with a sledge – sorry, mallet – so I bound her with ropes. After she threatened to kill me, I tried my best to distract her before I could get away. And if it didn't work, well, it would have been worth it."

"And you didn't just run away?"

Harry shook his head vehemently. "I don't know this neighborhood very well, but I don't picture the next person walking across a tied up girl in the middle of the night to have the purest of intentions. And while I could have untied her from a distance, I wasn't sure if she had a gun. I mean – she did have several police cars chasing after her."

Pamela looked surprised. "She did?"

Harry blinked. "Uh, I wasn't supposed to tell you that, was I?"

Ivy shook her head. "No, no… it just surprised me. She usually embellishes her heists. "How many cars tried to catch her?"

"Five, I think," Harry said slowly, feeling awkward. He had only been there for the few minutes of conversation they had, and not once did either girl imply that Ivy was in the same business as Harley. He had really only assumed because of the green skin and the menacing-looking vines surrounding them. He figured that was evidence enough.

Ivy contemplated what to do next. "Okay. Fine. When Harley gets out of the shower, it's your turn; and not a moment sooner. Then we'll have another discussion of what to do with you."

Harry refrained from asking if he could take a head start when they make their decision.

He scrubbed at his hair with the natural aloe oils he had found in the shower stall, and marveled at how silky and squeaky clean his hair was starting to feel between his fingers.

He breathed a sigh of satisfaction. Of all the things that Harry James Potter had accomplished in his life – and it was quite a few, and quite important – this seemed to be a fitting end.

He had never found Sirius, but he was sure the old dog was somewhere, enjoying his life and avoiding the hell that was Grimmauld Place. He had escaped the eyes of the Ministry and Dementors for three years; he would be found if he wanted to be, to escape the perils of parenthood.

He frowned. He would have to send a message to Hermione, though. He didn't want to sound haughty, but he had feeling that she would be missing him about now.

And Luna. Probably Susan and Daphne. And the Patils. Tonks. Andy. Cho. Marietta. Hannah. His Quidditch team. He supposed someone had told Fleur, Gabrielle, and Appolline he was missing. Lavender. Sue. Rosmerta. Pet. Bitch. Narcissa.

He scoffed at the thought. He probably shouldn't have taunted Lucius with that little fact as he held the prophesy orb in his hand, the smoky ball of pale light creating an eerie shadow as he recounted their first time together at the Quidditch World Cup, in the Minister's box with Amelia Bones.

Still, it got the reaction he wanted. Lucius cast the first spell, and he ducked it easily destroying the shelf behind him. The small group scattered, and the damn-near vigilante group, the 'Fearsome Phoenix,' had the upper hand at that point in the confusion.

And now, somehow, he found himself… here.

He bodily shook himself out of his stupor. He got himself into this, he was going to get himself out.

And if he didn't, Hermione would find a way to revive him back to life, only to give him an earful and kill him again.

His fingers fumbled with the ring on his other hand; well, he at least he didn't make it/ too/ easy on her by leaving it at Hogwarts.

Harry's ears twitched, and again, out of instinct, he jabbed his hand in the direction the sound came from, his feet firmly planted to the sandstone floor.

Harleen and Pamela stood at the doorway, their eyes not nearly as modest as Harry's had been earlier. While Harley seemed fascinated by the gentle swaying motion of his large flaccid dick swaying with his sudden movement, Pamela's eyes were locked firmly on his.

Harry felt a chill up his spine every time he looked into her eyes. It was a sense of familiarity that he was sure was unnatural, and it seemed to be a challenge for the redhead now to see who would look away first.

Harry slowly moved up his hand to smooth back his wet hair and moved back from the spray. "Have I been here too long? Or are these my last words?"

Harley giggled cutely, her sky blue eyes now focused on the teen's face. "Aw, isn't that cute? Doubts of self-worth and abandonment issues!" She turned to her older girlfriend. "See, Pammy? He's damaged! Can't we keep him? Pwease?"

"Speak like an adult, Harleen," Ivy muttered sensibly, and rolled her eyes at her blond companion's pout. "I have a few more questions to ask you."

Harry raised an eyebrow. Pamela crossed her arms. Harley's eyes strayed back to his swinging schlong.

Finally, he sighed, and stepped back into the steaming shower. He used the essences left on his hands to scrub at his arms.

Ivy, her cheeks red, spoke with a steady tone. "Why did you follow my girlfriend home?"

Harry spoke immediately. "Where I come from, Innocent people don't get chased by police cars. Even if they do, I wasn't going to let her go home by herself."

Harley looked disappointed at the answer – either that, or she was disappointed that he turned away from her. "Hmph! I thought you were having naughty thoughts about taking advantage of me when was alone and vulnerable."

"The thought crossed my mind," Harry muttered over the shower, and he glanced at Pamela tensing. "But while I was raised like shit, I have /morals/, and I've been told I'm a good kid. Had you not broken up in front of me, whatever chastity remained of you would have been safe around me." Harry smiled softly at Harley, who smiled shyly back. "You remind me of a girl I knew back home."

Pamela eyed him suspiciously. "Another one?"

Harry nodded unabashedly. "Luna. Very quirky. Blonde, too. I imagine you two would be great friends. She's always looking for more friends."

Ivy blinked at the sincerity – the absolute fondness – in his voice, even over the sounds of the showerhead. Almost like he actually cared about the person he was talking about, and not another conquest.

Her concept about men was no different. And, hours ago, she would have said with a certainty that it never would change. But she was beginning to get a very human perception of Harry James Potter.

She cleared her throat. "Okay, so that explains why you followed her here. Why did you come inside?"

Harry gave her a blank look. "She walked into a pit of vines. Of course I was curious."

Harleen perked up. "Oh! That reminds me! Why didn't Ivy's vines attack you? It should have caught you the moment you came in, hidden or not."

Harry shrugged as he began lathering his legs, making sure to keep his front towards them. "I don't know. I had the shield up all last night. But before then, I was virtually invisible. I've learned to hide my scent from beasts and to blend in with the environment."

Ivy uncrossed her arms. "You still haven't told us any of your past."

Harry breathed a deep, long sigh – not a sigh of frustration, but rather, in Ivy's point of view, a resigned one – and turned his back towards them. "Are you sure you want to know?"

They both gasped in shock at what they were seeing. Angry red lines and welts were marked into the child's skin. Black, charred scars crisscrossed his back, and deep, deep cuts covered them all, the grossly parting slits where his skin was once combined showing how hold the scars were. The water ran down the multiple grooves as he showcased just a small glimpse into his life.

Both girls were deeply disgusted at the sight. However, their reactions were quite different. Pamela covered her mouth to cover her gasp, and her feet took an involuntary step back.

Harleen, however, found herself stepping forward.

Harry grimaced. If this arrangement had any chance of continuing – and he finally started to believe that yes, it quite possibly could – then he knew they would have to see what he had. He didn't really have a choice – he hadn't placed a glamour charm on himself since two days previous, and they would likely attack him if he put a spell on his back, demanding what he was hiding.

Besides, the best way to earn a lover's trust is to tell them your biggest secret. Only a select few of his lovers ever found out his secret, and that was through boneheaded mistakes much like this one.

It had cost him a few girls, and while they were all one-night stands with muggles, it was unpleasant to be reminded that he wasn't as much of a catch as he wanted to be.

Honestly, he should've learned that by now.

So he hissed in surprise and shock as someone nimbly jumped into the shower and hugged him, pressing the cotton of her robe against his back.

"W-wha-?"

"WHO DID THIS TO YOU! I'LL KILL EM! THOSE AWFUL, CREATINOUS SONSABITCHES! LET ME AT EM! I'LL… I'll…"

She gripped at his chest tighter, and her body shook. Harry, in shock, stood still as Harley cried on his shoulder.

Pamela, her hand still covering her mouth, honestly couldn't fault her girlfriend's reaction. She wanted nothing more than to make mulch of whoever did… that to them.

She closed her eyes and turned away. The sight was… yes, disturbing. But moreso, the sight of her girlfriend hugging what was still, technically, a stranger, naked in her bathroom…

It didn't disturb her more than she thought it would.

In fact, it didn't really disturb her at all. Granted, she was forced to watch them have sex, and inexplicably joined in, but… she thought she was unaffected by this point.

She had a theory; pheromones.

She was forced to whiff in the sexual energy in the room, was forced to take in the heady smell of Harry's sweaty body, and Harley's hungry sex.

Normally, that would only affect a human a little. However, due to her heightened senses, the pheromones attacked her nose like an aphrodisiac.

As Harry penetrated Harley for the very first time, her body unfroze at the almost visible wave of arousal that permeated from the two. Her body still weak, she carefully slid backwards and rested her back against the corner of the wall, out of their view before Harry turned Harley around and backed her into the sink.

Her breathing was heavy, and she found her hand wandering to her heaving chest. Her fingers pinched at her aching nipples under the thick dress shirt, and she let out a silent groan.

The leaves around her waist wilted away, leaving her bottomless, and her fingers slid downward into the moist heat.

The moans were now background noise – a mere buzzing as she was completely focused on the smell. She stoked the fires of her flaming cunt, two longest fingers unrelenting as she squelched in and out of her tight passage.

Her mouth opened in a soundless scream as she climaxed – she was never really vocal, except for the occasional moan or gasp, and Harley usually did enough talking for the both of them in bed.

"Fu-u-uck, Me-e," she heard in the far distance, and she breathed through her nose to avoid panting. A part of her was aware that she had to be silent the entire time. Never mind the fact that she was too weak to do or say anything if she was caught, but she didn't want to be caught nude by the stranger who was apparently named 'Harry.'

Unfortunately, as she was just coming down from her high, when she smelled in the pungent, dominant scent again. And, before her fingers could escape her darker green velvet vice, she whimpered as her knuckles scraped along her inner walls.

"Harley," the boy muttered, and instead of rage at the picture she envisioned, she raised her hips to meet her fingers and tore at her dress shirt, the buttons popping easily with her strength.

Harry, the lean, toned, incredibly fit boy she had just met, pounding into her girlfriend from behind, his cock stretching deep in to her body with a force, thickness and speed that only her vines could go, if she ever learned the self-control to use them while at a sexual high. Harleen, her dear, beautiful Harley, lolling her tongue out the side of her mouth, panting uncontrollably as her body was used as a simple cocksleeve, her small, pink tongue doing nothing to ruin the large smile on her face. She licked at her shiny black lips as she stared at her girlfriend, her eyes unflinching even as her face shined with perspiration. Her breasts were currently being mauled by the boy behind her, squeezing and fondling her favorite toys.

And her, crawling, on her hands and knees, completely nude, sliding towards them sultrily, her eyes smoldering. Her hair covered half of her face, and yet she still got a full view of her slutty girlfriend being fucked royally by the devilish rogue, his stupid grin suddenly less stupid to her, his hard body now ogled by her.

When she was close enough, Harleen reached up, and pulled her face closer for a kiss. The girls moaned as Harry's cock twitched deep within her womb, and as Harley tongue-fucked her throat, Ivy came again in real life.

This continued twice more, and as her brain was beginning to shut down of exhaustion and damn near dehydration, she looked up to the ceiling of the small hallway that led into the large kitchen. Her bright green eyes sparked in recognition.

The pink mist, indiscernible to the human eye, was one of the many quirks to her powers. She had never really questioned what this particular power was – she just thought it was a particular quirk that told her who would respond to her feminine wiles more quickly, the larger the aura the target carried. She had never before correlated that aura to those who didn't have an aura around her, who were either married, in a committed relationship, or gay. Most single, straight men had a large aura around when they laid eyes on her, but she never bothered to ask them about their relationship status.

It didn't even appear to her as she stared at the misty cloud that had completely filled the top half of an invisible dome in the kitchen. As she idly frigged herself to a fifth orgasm, she didn't think about it as she glanced around the corner to see the young couple laying together on the mattress. She didn't even question the mattress's presence. Instead, she crawled over to the couple.

Her face hovered over Harley. So peaceful. So beautiful. She never really considered letting her hair down during sex, and when they did, Harley was blonde at the time.

It was intoxicating, seeing her like this, with no makeup, even.

Ivy couldn't bring herself to be mad. Not at Harley.

She glanced into the face of what she now knew to be Harry James Potter. She blinked in confusion. She wasn't as angry as she wanted to be. She was upset. Disappointed. Mildly irritated.

Not angry. She stumbled to her feet. She needed to get away. Anywhere but there. Anywhere –

She fell, and caught herself. Another wave of pleasure hit her, and she gasped.

Harley twitched in her sleep. Ivy smiled. And, before she could stop herself, she leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips.

And she did it again.

And she did it a third time, a little lower. She kissed her soft jaw, before kissing her neck, taking a small lick as she traveled down her lover's body, unintentionally tasting the point where Harry's tongue had been. She kissed the top of the girl's cleavage, then her right breast, directly on her peach-colored nipple. Her tongue danced on Harley's toned stomach, tickling her in her sleep, before giving a small smooch to her belly button.

Her nose was attacked again with the smell – this was much more manageable, though. Still, for a second, she was dazed as she finally set her eyes upon her lover's bald lips, between her slightly parted legs.

Her lips shook with hunger. Her eyes shined with desire. Her fingers tapped against the mattress with wanting.

And as her red lips kissed her lover's pink petals, not a single part of her gave a tingle of regret.

And, minutes later, as she gave a small, tentative lick to the head of Harry's penis, she felt weak. Horny. Unattached. Horny. Resigned...

A little sated.

She took a longer lick. Her sex, still burning, cooled down a little. She grinned at the tip of his cock; she had found her cure.

Her tongue rolled around the head of his penis, holding his semi-hard dick in her hand with dainty fingers. She was careful not to smear the sticky copulation juices off of his hardening cock, making small cooing noises as her body began to feel less flustered. She batched his heavy balls with her tongue, the scent of his groin slow disappearing.

When she sat back, she sighed wonderfully to herself with a clear mind. She was cured.

The monstrous erection stood proudly in front of her.

Her sex didn't tingle. Not even a little. And she was thankful. Even if she was attracted, she had already gotten off about six times, at her last count. The cloud of pink mist above them no longer affected her. Even the aura that permeating from the two teens didn't draw her to them.

She sat on her haunches for a moment, watching the two laid out in front of her, wondering what to do next.

Her lips quirked. She had just gone down on a complete stranger, who had just fucked her girlfriend.

If she were to kill him, she didn't think he would even argue.

Harley moaned a little. Then, ever-so-slowly, she rolled over and rested her head on his shoulder. She bent her legs up and wrapped her thighs around his arm, cuddling up to him in the cutest, most perverted way Ivy had ever seen.

Though, she had to admit, it turned back to cute when she pressed her lips to his shoulder for a small second, and rested her head back on that spot.

Ivy felt a coldness clutch at her heart. The familiarity of which she had done that… having never seen or felt Harley do that to her, and she was a light sleeper.

Harley's aura was unaffected. She wasn't subconsciously aroused – well, any more so than the orgasm she gave her minutes ago. And she cuddled closer to Harry out of instinct. Out of affection.

Out of love.

She glanced at the boy who was blissfully unaware of his insanely good luck. His large member and sex drive aside; there was nothing really spectacular about him. He looked fit – very fit – but he wasn't muscular or anything. In fact, he looked a bit on the scrawny side. She liked to think that his green eyes reminded Harley of someone else she loved, but that was a bit too farfetched. The minor scars across his body made him look like a man who had fought battles, but his clean-shaven face made him look like a child trapped in a warrior's body. He had no hair on his chest, and she was pretty sure Harley didn't like that anyway, but it did nothing to improve his looks in her eyes.

No. Harry Potter, she surmised, was quite an unremarkable child.

Was this a fad? Was this simply Harleen going through a rebellious phase or something? She was a bit of a mother-figure, but Harley knew how to act like an adult most times. She was wise beyond her years, and it was one of the many things Pamela had fallen in love with.

So why was he so important to her?

What made him so special in her eyes? His charming, disarming smile? The rugged, tangled hair that Harley obviously wanted to run her fingers through? His strong angular jawline, that she would just love to hold between her fingers as they kissed passionately. His lean, powerful physique that was just born for domination?

Possibly. She wouldn't know. She wasn't attracted to him.

But she could still appreciate the human body, and while the female form was enhanced perfection, his body produced no immediate flaws that she could see.

Pamela sighed. Is she could choose a man… she wouldn't.

But, if Harley could choose a man for her…

Her eyes lowered to his still stiff cock, the few veins poking angrily at her.

Her hands, with a small amount of trepidation, reached out to touch his pulsing member, and she could feel the heat pulsing against her fingers. It was hot to the touch. Searing.

She licked her lips and lowered her head once more…

Pamela took a deep breath, watching the two stand under the shower together.

She made a decision.

------------------------

Harry stood there, unsure of what to do as Harley held onto his tight form. She had asked him who did this to him, and while he could have given her an answer, he didn't want to. He didn't really have to. What difference would it make?

They were all dead, anyway.

He breathed through his nose. What harm could it do to tell a couple of criminals? "I killed them," he muttered, his voice lost into the sounds of the falling water.

He had underestimated Harley's hearing. "Good."

Harry turned his head to her, surprised, his body unmoving. "That's not an answer I expected."

"I don't make idle threats; I would have killed them if you hadn't."

Harry refrained from mentioning the many times she threatened him with death, and wisely kept silent. As he had learned a long time ago; never piss off a girl when you're naked.

One of Harley's hands left his chest, and he heard her turn the nozzle for the showerhead. The water now only dripped to the smooth sandstone, in rapid patters, and Harley returned to hugging him.

"Tell me."

"There's not much to say. My last remaining relatives were forced to raise me. They didn't appreciate the arrangement."

"No." She shook her head, and her soaked, darkened hair splattered water everywhere. "Tell me everything. I want to know."

"Wait…" He gently pulled himself out of her grip, and before she could take a look at his scarred back, he turned around to face her. He eyed her suspiciously. "I didn't show you this because I want your pity. I just wanted to warn you what you might be getting into."

Her blue eyes lost their concern, and she shot back defiantly, "Warn me? How shallow do you take me for? You think I would reject you just because you showed me a few scars?"

Harry held his tongue. In all honesty, there were supposedly nice, lonely housewives all over Little Whinging, and it was often a deal-breaker. He couldn't use a glamour outside of school, after all. "I… I'm sorry. It's just the reaction I was expecting. It's not exactly a turn-on, is it? I wouldn't exactly be in the mood if I happened to glance in the mirror."

She narrowed her eyes. "I'd rip off this robe right now and make you take me if you want me to prove you're not damaged goods." She allowed herself a smirk. "Besides, whether you're into it or not, I don't have any plans to be behind you."

Only when Harry smiled, did she allow herself to hug him again. She was surprised that he didn't tense this time, very pleasantly surprised.

"I don't think Ivy wants me to be here, though," Harry murmured, looking towards the door entryway.

"What makes you say that?"

"She's not here."

She quickly broke Harry's embrace and looked at the empty doorway. She sighed. "Not again…"

"I've seen the way you two look at each other," Harry said quickly, "and I'm not getting in between you two."

"Not if I have anything to say about it," she growled, and looked back to grab his hand. She didn't want to end up grabbing the wrong appendage. Right now, at least. "Come on. We'll go look for her."

"Wait," he stopped her before she could move, and she looked back in impatience. "Why are you doing this? Why…" he didn't really know what to say.

"We had sex," she said matter-of-factly. "No offense to Pammy, but that was the best sex I've ever had. Never mind that you're a really nice guy, that I want to get to know. I don't make many friends around my age. Including you and Ivy, I'm at a grand total of two. We've been thinking of expanding our team, and while Pammy wants to get this leather-clad dominatrix, you seem like a great addition to our little group. If Pammy can learn to like you, then you're in."

Harry tilted his head at the absurd idea. "Do I really fit the bill?"

"Huh?"

"A woman. That seems to be what 'Pammy' is going for."

Harley shrugged. "You didn't fit the bill before. But when I last woke up, Red's a meat-eater."

Harry's lips quirked. He liked this girl. "So she doesn't like men, I take it?"

"We never bring it up. I suppose to her, they're nothing but procreation, and since she has all the babies she needs, they're useless to her." She bit her lip. "But, there is one thing you should know before I try to convince her."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"How good are you with plants?"

Harry grinned.

------------------------

Poison Ivy strode through the greenhouse in a tank-top and jean shorts, a little nervously.

She hadn't seen or heard from the two teens since she had left them an hour ago, and she was a little worried at this point. She had connected to her vines to feel out the entire property of her home, and she had a location.

It was the location she was nervous about.

It was the one place that was an actual greenhouse; glass ceilings and walls, a thermostat, a sprinkler system, and of course, her luscious garden of food and rare plants.

It was the largest part of her home, and was the source of all of her proudest work.

If Harley and Harry were having sex in there, she would have to kill him, just out of obligation.

The vial of crimson liquid in her hand would have meant nothing. She had been working on the vial for the past hour, combining some very potent essences and herbs, and this all would've been a waste of material if the two were stinking up her biodome with their pungency.

She slid open the large clay doors, and blinked at the sight.

Harley – a fully-clothed, pig-tailed Harley – looked over her shoulder and waved back at her girlfriend. "Hiya, Red!"

The redhead, from which the nickname derived, stared at the sight before her.

Harry stood and admired his work, wiping his conjured gloves on his jeans. "That should do it," he muttered o himself, his eyes searching the flowerbed for imperfections.

"So this is what you two have been up to." Harry turned to see Pamela, her hands on her hips, her eyes amused. "And here I was thinking I'd have to kill you for having sex in my garden."

Harry sheepishly grinned. "The thought crossed my mind."

She looked plainly at him. "Don't. Ever."

Harry blinked – not at the threat, but the implications. "So… does this mean what I think it means?"

Pam smiled. "You've proved yourself more than house-trained. These rows are impeccably tidy and none of the flowers seem to be damaged. Was it your power?" She wondered, the thought having just occurred to her. When she was in sync with her environment, controlling her plants, they always got the job done… but they were never precise. Not like this.

Harry shook his head. "I was forced to do gardening as a kid. Won several awards a year for my garden. I've never gotten a chance to work with lilies before, though. Gardening was really the only part I enjoyed about my childhood." He shrugged. "That, and cooking. Especially when… never mind."

Pamela raised her eyebrow. He looked to be very uncomfortable, as if he was going to say something he shouldn't say. "We don't keep secrets here, Harry. You have enough as it is, so we're giving you a lot of leeway right now."

The boy with green eyes turned away from her. "I was just going to say when I get compliments." He forced a smile. "That makes it worth it." His smile was genuine as he finished the statement.

Because it was true. He loved the compliments that he got from his cooking, and they mostly came from Hermione's family. He wasn't going to tell her yet that he loved cooking, especially when he actually got to eat the meal he served, which he... often... didn't do at the Dursleys.

His smile slipped, but Ivy's attention was already on the blonde as she bounded up to them. "Did I just hear you can cook?"

Harry nodded. "But, I'm not really sure of the diet here…" His eyes searched the landscape.

"I have a pretty normal diet, actually," Pamela alleviated his concerns. "It's the natural circle of life. I eat the fruit and vegetables my lovely plants supply, and the animals that eat the plants. I still have a little bit of human left, so I can't just survive off of sunlight and water, though both helps."

Harry hmm'ed to himself. "Alright," he agreed. "Sextoy, sidekick, gardener, chef. Anything else?"

"How good are you at repairs?" Harley asked cheekily.

"Wait, sidekick?" Ivy turned to her girlfriend. "You want him to work with us, too?"

Harley leaned on Ivy and put her arm around her shoulders. "Well, he does more than just look pretty. And even if that's all he's good at…" she whispered in Ivy's ear, "…he'll look damn good in spandex and lycra."

Ivy rolled her eyes. He would. She wasn't going to tell them that. "You may be forgetting the point that where he's from, he's a hero."

Harry nodded to her point. "Yes. We're illegal heroes. Our goal was to one day kill the evil overlord and take his place, stronger than ever." They gave him surprised looks, and he shrugged. "Our world needed a better leader. Badly."

Harley plopped herself on the ground, and Pamela, seeing what she was doing, smiled to herself and gently sat down, sitting next to Harleen. "Sit," the blonde pointed in front of them, and Harry, confused, sat down in front of the two, his gloves disappearing.

"Before we start," Harley began, "Pammy, I'm sorry. For… all of last night, basically. I should have bitten his tongue off at the very start, if it would have made you feel better."

Ivy smiled. "Apology accepted. Yes, logically speaking, you should have. But," she glanced over at Harry and offered him a rare smile. "I'm glad she didn't. It seems she's gained a new friend."

"Right!" Harley exclaimed, jumping on the transition, "and you know what friends do? Share secrets!" She held her hand out to Harry who, after a short, awkward moment, reached out and shook it. "We haven't really met properly, have we? I'm Harleen Quinzel. My friends call me Harley. Former gymnast and ballerina. Wanted a little more… excitement out of life. Showed interest in psychology. Parents couldn't fathom the thought. On my fourteenth birthday, they took me somewhere I always wanted to go, and they hoped it would scare me straight." Pamela snorted at the choice of words. "Stop, Red! You're ruining the punchline! Anyway, they took me on a private field trip to Blackgate Prison. There, I met a lot of cool people. A mutant crocodile man, a scary smart dude who gave me a questionnaire on my way through, a man dressed as a bat…"

"He really was a bat. It wasn't a costume. Much like the crocodile man, he was a mutant."

"Right. So, I meet all these really cool people. When we're about to leave, the alarm goes off. Prison break. I remember thinking it was going to be so much fun to watch a psychopath at work. Unfortunately for the studious side of me, I didn't run into any.

"Fortunately," she smiled, resting her hand on Pamela's thigh, "I met the girl of my dreams. Pammy?"

Pamela smiled at Harley's words, and her hand extended to Harry as well, who shook it. "Fine, then. I'm Pamela Isley, and I'm a cradle robber."

"Pammy!" She swatted her shoulder. "You're only four years older than me!"

"You didn't tell me your age when I… attacked you, and subsequently kidnapped you," she muttered embarrassingly. "You looked far too mature for your years, and you had a ponytail and glasses when we met."

Harry smiled at the back and forth of the two lovers. "You had glasses, too?"

Harley nodded. "I'm wearing contacts, now. I wear glasses to school."

"School?" Harry asked, perplexed. He looked her over. Without her makeup and colored hair, she looked very young, maybe seventeen. "As in to get your degree?"

She shook her head. "Nope! I'm a Sophomore at good ol' Gotham High. I'm fifteen."

"…Huh." Harry was surprised, to say the least. He had met more developed girls at fifteen, but they didn't quite look as mature as Harley carried herself. The many times she called him 'kid' never quite left his mind, either. "Okay."

When it was clear he wasn't going to say anything else, Ivy continued. "I'm Nineteen. When I was sixteen, I was interning for a big environmental company at WayneTech Industries. Several sexual harassment claims later, I found myself being pushed into chemicals that have made me what I am today."

"A lesbian," Harley giggled.

Pamela swatted at her knee. "I hated men before then. I became Poison Ivy that night. Now, I'm on a crusade to make the world a better place to live. For forest-life, at least." She held out a vial with her other hand, and Harry hesitantly took it. "I still dabble in science. That vial... should... heal some of the more drastic wounds on your back." At the unexpected news, Harley squealed and hugged Pamela to her, and she smiled embarrassingly at Harry's look of shock.

"Th-thank you." His voice was thick with emotion. To be rewarded so kindly by someone he had essentially betrayed...

He set his shoulders firm. He'd tell them anything. Everything he could. He had their trust, and he would do whatever he could to keep it.

He cleared his throat. They asked for it.

"My name is Harry Potter, and I'm a wizard…."