Harry rescues two girls and one runs away to join him
A/N2: Re: Last Chapter’s timeline. I originally intended to have a chaplet for each of the events of the time line, but found some of them impossible to write, -Hermione's discovery, and subjugation for example. I had 3000 words for that, and it made me so angry at my own sick imagination I just could not use it.
Chapter Thirteen – Retribution
Harry apparated in to the foyer of Malfoy Manor. No one was around. Interesting. He established his shield and decided to explore. Let’s see now, four dark marks in residence. Interesting again. It had been a week since his assault on Hogwarts, was Draco stupid enough to take the mark after seeing his power? He made his way to the mark on this level of the house. He found the mark in the dining room. It was attached to Narcissa Malfoy.
The woman gasped when she saw him, he cast a body bind on her and levitated her to him. She followed him up the stairs. Second door on the right opened into Draco’s suite. Inside huddled over a book he found Draco and Blaise Zambini. Again, he cast body binds on them and levitated their frozen forms. The silent parade continued down the hall to the Master’s study.
Harry unsealed the door and pushed it open. There was Lucius Malfoy, with his back to the door, trousers around his ankles, hips frantically thrusting. Harry’s eyebrows rose. During the day? With his wife and son in the house? Arrogant ass. He ignored the girl’s cries of pain.
“Good Day Lucius Malfoy, are you ready to die?”
The Death Eater whirled about, wand in hand, when the body bind hit him. His limbs slapped to his side and his wand clattered to the floor.
“I am the Reaper.” He intoned. “I am here to erase the blot that is the followers of the insane half blood Riddle.” With a wave of his hand he partially canceled the bind on the upper part of the elder Malfoy’s body.”
“The Dark Lord will…”
“Yes, I know, ‘the Dark Lord will kill me’. I cannot help but notice I am still here. You are going to die today. The only question is do I do it fast and painless, or slow and painful. Your choice.”
“What do you want?”
Harry handed Lucius a sock. He smiled at the look of bewilderment from the man.
“Call your house elf Dobby.”
Still confused Malfoy spoke “Dobby!”
The elf popped into existence before his bond Master.
“Give him the sock.”
Malfoy was even more confused, this maniac came to his home to force him to free a house elf? “Take the sock Dobby.”
“Master is giving Dobby clothes? Master gave it, and Dobby took it, and Dobby —
Dobby is free.”
The cloaked figure knelt down next to the diminutive elf. “You are free Dobby. Would you like to work for me?”
“You did this? You are a great wizard, but Dobby cannot leave, Dobby must stay to care for Miss.”
Harry turned to see the naked girl that the elder Malfoy had been using holding the wand and casting, at Lucius. Her wand movement was precise, her concentration total. The air filled with Lucius’ screams.
Hermione? How is this even possible? She is muggle born. The muggle borns were all killed in the cullings, how?
“Hermione? Hermione Granger?”
The girl quit casting and pointed the wand at Harry. “Stay away from me Wizard. I will kill you as I am going to kill them. She turned back to the Malfoys “CRUCIO!” and cast again, this time with Draco as the target. “You like that? You’ve all used me for 3 years. My turn, my turn…” three minutes of casting, of pushing the untested spell through a wand she was unfamiliar with took its toll. The girl slumped to the ground, barely conscious. “you killed my daddy, you killed my mum… I’ll kill you!”
“You used her? You’ve been raping her for 3 years?” Harry lost control. His magic leaped out unbidden and reduced Lucius Malfoy to a bloody mist, Narcissa, Blaise and Draco followed him into death.
Horrified at his loss of control, Harry forced himself to calm. Again, he turned to the Elf who was staring in horror. “Dobby, we’ve got to get Hermione somewhere safe. Will you come with me? I’ve got a house, it’s filthy, but it’s safe.”
“Miss hurt badly, Dobby do what he can, but she hurt badly. Dobby come with you, if you help Miss.”
Harry scooped the protesting girl from the floor, what had those bastards done to her? “Do you need to hold on to me to apparate Dobby?”
“Only first time. You hurt Miss, Dobby kill you.”
“Dobby, if I hurt Miss, I’ll kill me.”
The elf nodded, then took hold of the hem of his cloak. The three of them apparated away.
They reappeared on the front step of the Potter Cottage outside Godric’s Hollow.
“Dobby, this house hasn’t been lived in for about 16 years. Could you see if you could make one of the bed rooms suitable for Hermione?”
The elf nodded and headed inside.
The girl in his arms was asleep. He had to keep reminding himself that this wasn’t his Hermione. For that matter, his Hermione had never been ‘his’. She had been used, and hurt. Could he take her to the resistance? He couldn’t recall a single muggle born among them. Not for the first time he found himself wondering just how screwed up this world was.
Hermione. Here. In his arms. What the holy hell had those bastards done to her?
Not my Hermione. Not the woman I know. She’s dead. This isn’t my Hermione. God she’s so hurt.
A pop. The Elf was back. “Dobby take Miss. Dobby help her.” He levitated the unconscious girl into his arms. “Thank you great wizard. Thank you for freeing Dobby and helping Miss.” And he was gone.
Harry sat on the porch and began to sob.
Poppy Pomfrey was cleaning up her ‘ward’ after a day of minor complaints. Having roofs over everyone’s heads and secure places to operate from had cut way back on the demands for her time. She turned when she heard a soft pop of apparition. Potter.
“Madam Pomfrey, I need your help. I’ve found a rape victim, she needs… I don’t know what she needs. I don’t know how she would be accepted here, could you come with me? She’s hurt badly.”
“Of course Harry. Let me get my kit.”
Poppy called for one of her assistants, and they were gone.
“Sweet Merlin Harry, who did this to her?”
“The Malfoys. They had her for three years.”
“Paid them a visit did you?” She shuddered “I hope you made it slow.”
“I lot my temper.” He said. “It was over much too quickly.” He looked ashamed of himself. “Will she be alright?”
“The physical damage I can deal with. Her mental state, I don’t know. Do you know her?”
“In my world, she was my best friend. Maybe more if I wasn’t such a coward.” He looked into her eyes. “She’s Muggle born. Is this going to be a problem with the Resistance?”
“Maybe. A lot of people blame the Muggle Born for Voldemort’s terror. They say that if it wasn’t for them, he wouldn’t have …”
“If so, I’m going to have to distance myself from the resistance. My version of that woman was the smartest witch I ever met. She knew more magic than I did, and was always learning more, forcing me to push myself to keep up with her. If they don’t want her, they don’t want me. I can sit under this fidelius for ever and the rest of the world can go to hell.”
“I can understand that Harry. I’ll talk to the Council if you like. I need to get back.”
“Just a second, I’ll let Dobby know that I’ll be gone for a few moments.”
“No need Harry. I may not know where I am, but I know where I need to go. I can apparate myself.” She was gone.
“What did you mean ‘in your world’ wizard? I’ve never met you in my life.”
Hermione stood in the doorway behind him, clutching at Lucius Malfoy’s wand, holding a reparoed dressing gown closed with her free hand.
“My name is Harry Potter. I’ve got an odd story to tell you. You probably won’t believe it.”
“Try me wizard.”
“I’m not from here. I come from a world very like this one, where you and I met on a train when we were 11 years old.”
“You’re from another dimension? That sounds like a bad science fiction story.”
“Tell me about it. Her name was Hermione Jane Granger. Her parents are Michael and Kathy. They are dentists. Her date of birth is 19 September 1979. She loved books, all kinds. Her personal guilty pleasures were Jane Austin novels.”
“How… how do you know these things?” She sat on the far side of the porch.
“Like I said, we met on a train when we were 11. She’s saved my life more times than I can count. I’ve saved hers once or twice. Every year for my birthday she would buy me a book. Every year for her birthday I try not to buy her a book, but usually end up getting one. I … I… “
“I loved her. I know you aren’t her. I know you don’t know who the hell I am, but when I look at you, I see her. When you look at me, I see her. When you speak I hear her.” He struggled to get hold of his emotions. “You’re safe here. I’ll teach you to use that wand. Its only fair, she taught me.”
“You won’t touch me Wizard.”
“I know that. I never touched her. I never told her how I felt. I didn’t know how I felt until she died saving me.”
“If you weren’t with her, was she alone?”
“No. She was with my best mate. She loved Ron Weasley.”
Suddenly she had the wand pointed between his eyes. “Don’t you lie to me! I could never love that motherless son of a bitch.”
“Not you, her. The Ron here is a piece of work, I’m sure, but the Ron I know is a great guy.”
“Oh yeah, A REAL FUCKING GREAT GUY I’VE STILL GOT ONE OF HIS AUTOGRAPHS!” she opened the robe she exposed her inner thigh, there in horribly deep scars were the initials M, Z, and W. “MALFOY, ZAMBINI, AND WEASLEY CARVED WITH THEIR OWN LITTLE WANDS” she screamed at him.
He couldn’t take his eyes away. Once again the fury, cold and dark burst within him.
Dobby popped into existence before him. “Dobby, please take care of Miss. I have to go see someone.”
“Yes Great Wizard.”
“My name is Harry, Dobby. I’m not a great wizard. I’m just a killer. I need to go kill someone.”
And he was gone.
Chapter Fourteen – The Burrow
Ron Weasley kicked off the ground testing his new broom. His year as Head Boy and Quidditch Captain was in shreds, but vacation was vacation. Bill had shown him the charm to control his Veela, and there were several Muggle girls in Ottery St.Catchpole should he decide he needed company. Muggles were a lot of fun. They had no resistance to the imperius at all. Then they were begging you to do what ever you wanted.
He looped over the Quidditch pitch, just enjoying the act of flying. Draco and Blaise had died when the Reaper wanker had attacked Malfoy Manor. He really missed his mates. The girls they had shared, the parties they had attended. Something had to be done about that Reaper. Hopefully the Dark Lord or one of his inner circle would crush the pretender.
Bill was home today, and was entertaining himself with his Veela. Charlie was on the road. Ginny was off with Ted Nott, probably with her ankles behind her ears, trying to nail down a proposal.
The shouted command startled him, and Ron fought to regain control of his broom on its inexorable descent to the waiting hands of the Reaper. The broom stopped suddenly when the Reaper grabbed it, Ron’s momentum kept his body moving and he impacted in to the ground hard enough to knock the wind from his lungs.
The Reaper reached down to take a fist full of the shirt Ron was wearing, and he was dragged to the Burrow. The Reaper slammed him against the outer wall and applied a sticking charm kept him there.
“Don’t go away Ronald Weasley. I need to attend to your brother inside before we have our little talk.” The cloaked figure turned away from Ron, to enter the Burrow. In the living area, Fleur was startled by the door slamming open and she had spilled the drink she was bringing Bill into his lap. He backhanded her across the room as Harry entered the room.
Harry’s magic pulled the sitting man to his feet, and slammed him face first into the nearest wall.
“Hitting women Bill? Is this what the Weasley family has become? Arthur would be so proud of you.”
“Don’t you mention my Father in this house, it has taken me all my life to overcome the shame he brought on this family.” The larger man charged at the cloaked figure, fists flying.
He ran full force into a wall of magic, a wall that surrounded him from all sides, the field of magic then took his arms and legs and pulled. Bill Weasley screamed, as all four of his extremities were dislocated.
The Reaper turned to the girl on the floor, and helped her to her feet.
“Fleur Delacour. Of course, why didn’t I expect it?”
“You know me?”
“I know your name and your face. I have found that does not mean I know you. We will discuss it later if you like. Do these shackles inhibit your talents?”
“They do, and he uses the collar to control me.”
“Well we cannot have that.” He touched the manacles and willed them to unlock. A pair of quiet clicks signaled that he was successful. The collar was harder, not locked at all; it was a single piece of conjured metal. He again applied his will to the metal of the collar and increased its size until it was large enough to pass over her head.
“Ennervate!” and Bill Weasley returned to consciousness.
“Do you want him?”
“Oh oui. Please.”
“When you’re done, meet me outside. I have a place where you can stay.”
He turned to exit the house, smiling slightly at the screams coming from the living room. What’s this? A Pensieve? Wonderful. He picked it up and carried it outside.
Ron was still struggling against the sticking charm holding him to the house when the cloaked figure exited, carrying one of Bill’s trophies. He placed the bowl thing on the garden table and summoned Ron’s wand. Then the Reaper removed his cloak.
Underneath the cloak and glamours was a man about his own age. A pair of gloves, his scythe, and an amulet joined the cloak. The man put Ron’s wand against his temple, and began to pull silvery strands of something from his head. The strands were placed in the bowl. The black haired youth then turned to face him, and canceled the sticking charm, allowing Ron to fall to the ground.
In a normal voice, the man began to speak. “I wasn’t going to come here. I was not going to confront you Ron. Even though you took the Mark, and I knew instantly when you did, you and your family were not to be touched. Then I found her.”
“Hermione.” The redhead had a blank look. “Hermione Granger.” Once again, the fury built with in him. “You didn’t even know her name. Wonderful. Malfoy’s sex slave.”
“What about her? Why would you care what I did to a mudblood slave?”
The man took him by the neck and pulled him to the bowl. “I’ll just have to show you why I care” as he pushed Ron’s face into the swirling silver vapor.
“Anyone sitting there?” he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. “Everywhere else is full.”
Harry shook his head and the boy sat down. He glanced at Harry and then looked quickly out of the window, pretending he hadn’t looked. Harry saw he still had a black mark on his nose.
The twins were back.
“Listen, we’re going down the middle of the train — Lee Jordan’s got a giant tarantula down there.”
“Right,” mumbled Ron.
“Harry,” said the other twin, “did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then.”
“Bye,” said Harry and Ron. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.
“Are you really Harry Potter?” Ron blurted out.
“That was when we met Ron. You became my best mate.”
He had just raised his wand when the compartment door slid open again. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.
“Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one,” she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.
“We’ve already told him we haven’t seen it,” said Ron, but the girl wasn’t listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand.
“Oh, are you doing magic? Let’s see it, then.”
She sat down. Ron looked taken aback.
“Er — all right.”
He cleared his throat.
“Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow.”
He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep.
“Are you sure that’s a real spell?” said the girl. “Well, it’s not very good, is it? I’ve tried a few simple spells just for practice and it’s all worked for me. Nobody in my family’s magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it’s the very best school of witchcraft there is, I’ve heard — I’ve learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough — I’m Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?”
She said all this very fast.
Harry looked at Ron, and was relieved to see by his stunned face that he hadn’t learned all the course books by heart either.
“I’m Ron Weasley,” Ron muttered.
“Harry Potter,” said Harry.
“Are you really?” said Hermione. “I know all about you, of course — I got a few extra books, for background reading, and you’re in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.”
“Am I?” said Harry, feeling dazed.
“Goodness, didn’t you know, I’d have found out everything I could if it was me,” said Hermione.“ Do either of you know what house you’ll be in? I’ve been asking around, and I hope I’m in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad… Anyway, we’d better go and look for Neville’s toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we’ll be there soon.”
And she left, taking the toadless boy with her.
“That was when we met her. She was our other best mate. We did everything together for the six years we went to school together. She loved you. You loved her.”
“Hermione!” Ron groaned.
Hermione lay utterly still, her eyes open and glassy.
“They were found near the library,” said Professor McGonagall. “I don’t suppose either of you can explain this? It was on the floor next to them…”
She was holding up a small, circular mirror.
Harry and Ron shook their heads, both staring at Hermione.
“I will escort you back to Gryffindor Tower,” said Professor McGonagall heavily. “I need to address the students in any case.”
“This was when we found that Hermione had been attacked by the basilisk from the Chamber of Secrets. We almost lost her.”
“I’m quite surprised the Mudbloods haven’t all packed their bags by now,” Malfoy went on. “Bet you five Galleons the next one dies. Pity it wasn’t Granger —”
The bell rang at that moment, which was lucky; at Malfoy’s last words, Ron had leapt off his stool, and in the scramble to collect bags and books, his attempts to reach Malfoy went unnoticed.
“Let me at him,” Ron growled as Harry and Dean hung onto his arms. “I don’t care, I don’t need my wand, I’m going to kill him with my bare hands —”
“You were more than willing to do damage to your good friend Draco when ever he felt the need to insult Hermione.”
Harry showed Ron all of his memories of Ron and Hermione together. Her recovery from the basilisk’s petrifaction, the making up following the Triwizard Tournament, their times together in the Order’s Headquarters, the stolen moments the three of them shared. Even a memory he never wanted to relive:
Harry sat up in the darkness. He had snuck off to the attic be by himself for a bit. Since Dumbledore’s death, the world had been closing in on him. He did not know how long he could deal with it. Why was Hermione looking for Ron up here? Then a dim light flooded the attic as Ron lit his wand with ‘lumos’. The light showed his friends with their clothing in a pile on the floor.
“I want to see you ‘mione”
“Ron! Oh, Ron!”
“I love you ‘moine.”
“Love me, love me, love me Ron” she drew him into her, and her passion was quieted by his kisses.
Harry turned toward the wall and tried his hardest not to listen to his friends lovemaking. Not for the first time he felt a burning jealousy for Ron Weasley. If it was important in life, Ron had it, a lot of it. He smiled to him self; at least the two most important people in his life had found a measure of happiness together in the insanity that was his life.
Ron felt himself being pulled out of the pensieve, to be thrown to the ground. He watched as the black haired man added his wand to the pile of things by the table.
“I know that you aren’t the Ron Weasley who was my friend. I know that the woman you abused isn’t the Hermione Granger we both loved. But knowing it and believing it are two different things.”
“I showed you those memories so that you would understand why I’m going to kill you. I’m not going to do it with magic; I’m going to take you apart with my bare hands. Get up you gutless Son of a Bitch.”
Ron scrambled to his feet feeling confident that his larger size and weight would ensure his victory against this deluded madman. His confidence was quickly shattered when he discovered that his relaxed upbringing as a Pureblood hadn’t done much to condition him physically, and that fighting with ones brothers doesn’t prepare you for fighting someone who wants to kill you. He found himself face down in the dirt, with the madman kneeling on his back trying to twist his head around so that he could look backwards.
Harry had Ron’s life in his hands. One quick twist and it was over. One quick twist. One quick twist… He reared back and punched the Pureblood as hard as he could, before standing and walking away.
“I can’t do it. I can’t kill you Ron, no matter how much you deserve it, I can’t kill you.”
“I however, can.” Harry spun to see Fleur use Bill’s wand to cast a point blank ‘reducto’ into Ron Weasley’s head.
“You are an enigma Warrior.”
“My name is Harry. Harry Potter.”
“Fleur Delacour. But then somehow you know this.” She looked at him oddly. “I recall every man I have met. I do not know you.”
Harry looked sadly at the body that had worn the face and name of his lost friend. “I get that a lot here. Do you have somewhere to go? I’ve a safe house if you need it.”
“And what is the rent for this ‘safe house’.”
“The promise that if I ever try to take advantage of you or my other guest, you kill me.”
“I believe I can make that promise. Here.” She tossed him a bag. “The treasure of the house. Should not the infamous ‘Reaper’ collect the treasure of his fallen victims. That will frighten the pureblood bastards more than you’re just killing them.”
“I never thought of pillaging them. Thank you.” He gathered up his things, returned his memories, and picked up the pensieve. He offered the woman his other arm. “Shall we?”
She warily took his arm and they apparated away. Leaving only two corpses, a burning building, and a spectral Reaper floating in the sky.
Kingsley Shacklebolt was not enjoying life.
The Weasley home was the fifth site attacked and destroyed by this ‘Reaper’, and this one was different. Firstly, it was done in broad daylight. Secondly, for some reason the body outside, the newly marked Ronald B. Weasley showed signs of having been physically beaten before he was killed. That must have made it personal, but no one in Weasley’s circle of friends or enemies had the level of power doing some of the things being done. That Reaper in the sky was the work of a class 6 magic user at least, and other than the dark lord, there weren’t any magic users of that level.
Moreover, of course the Dark Lord wanted daily updates on the case. Anytime the Dark Lord takes, a personal interest in your work is a bad thing.
No, Shacklebolt was not enjoying life.
Chapter Fifteen – The Cottage
Tom Riddle arrived on the scene of the Weasley murders soon after the Aurors reported the incident. He examined the available evidence while the Aurors prostrated them selves before him. Somehow, this one was different.
He looked to the senior Auror. “Rise Shacklebolt. Make your report.”
“I have only an initial summary My Lord.” Kingsley was sweating this report. “This appears to be the work of the same Terrorist or team of terrorists. The man inside, William Weasley 27, a Ward Breaker for the Directorate, had his arms and hips dislocated by powerful magic before he was killed. The killing was less clinical than previous victims, it was as if it was done slowly and messily to prolong the death while keeping the victim alive and conscious of the pain.”
“The second victim, Ronald Weasley 17, Hogwarts Head Boy this year, until the tragedy there. His murder was even more unusual than his brothers. It appears that he and his assailant actually fought with their fists, like Muggles. Only after he was beaten physically was he executed with a ‘reducto’ to the head. A devastating attack, but one at extremely low power for this assailant, which when coupled with the method of death for his brother leads me to suggest that this so called ‘Reaper’ had been joined by another.”
“Like the Malfoy murders, this home had a slave with magic. In this case a quarter Veela with full charm capability classified Class 5 Magic User Veela charm as well as Human Magic. In both cases the slaves are missing, but unlike the Malfoy case, none of the house elves are missing.”
Weasley was obviously a fool. As a Ward Breaker, he was a Class 5 Magic User himself. To keep a slave with more or less equivalent powers to your own was a recipe for disaster. If it wasn’t for the Reaper floating above his head, he would have wagered that the slave had freed herself and taken revenge on her ‘owners’. What ever attraction a Veela might have, it was a fooling risk. “Malfoy had a slave with magic?” How had that tidbit of information not reached him before?
“Yes My Lord.” Shacklebolt consulted his notes. “A untrained captive mudblood, designated LC-1994203, aged 18 years. Captured due to an accidental discharge. Claimed by Lucius Malfoy rather than terminated.”
“This slave escaped detection until the age of 14? Class 1 I take it?”
“No My Lord, records indicated her index scores placed her on the high end of class 4.”
“Class 4? Malfoy allowed a Class 4 mudblood slave to survive to adult hood? It is fortunate that he had died, else I would be forced to kill him myself for such a flagrant violation of my policies. No matter how attractive she was. Where do you think this rogue Class 4 Magic User might be Shacklebolt?”
“I have no idea My Lord, we are still investigating.”
“I am asking for conjecture Auror, not fact. I don’t punish people for making incorrect guesses, just for lying to me.”
“My apologies My Lord. If I was to hazard a guess, I would guess that the woman is dead, or soon will be. She was taken no doubt to warm the bed of the terrorist that took her, now 12 hours later he has taken a Veela, undoubtedly for the same reason. Veela do not share My Lord.”
Harry apparated to the cottage with Fleur in tow. He was going to have to pull down the Fidelus and recast if these women were to be able to come and go as they wish. But that was for another time. Now he was exhausted.
“Welcome back Great Wizard.”
He knelt down to look into the elf’s eyes. “I told you Dobby, my name is Harry. I’m not that great a wizard, I’m just Harry.”
A short look of conflict flashed across the elf’s face. “Dobby try Master Harry.”
“Thank you Dobby. Someday we’ll work on losing that Master title, ok. Ms Delacour could use a place to stay. Could you prepare a room for her?”
“All rooms are ready for Master Harry’s friends Master Harry.”
“Thank you Dobby.” He found a bag of gold that Fleur hand liberated from the Weasley home. “Dobby, the ladies could use some clothing. Could you get their measurements and go get them what they need?” He handed the elf the money, then paused in thought “are house elves allowed to do things like that?”
“Oh yes Master Harry. Dobby do it all the time for Mistress and Young Master.”
“Good. Find out what they need, and get it. Not just clothing, what ever they need.”
“Of course Master Harry.”
“Thank you Dobby. The house looks wonderful, thank you for cleaning it for me.”
He stood again to find Fleur staring at him in amazement. “You are indeed an enigma Warrior.”
“No, I’m just Harry. I do weird stuff all the time.”
“You propose to feed and clothe me asking nothing in return?”
“I propose to care for those who live in my house until they chose to go elsewhere. You, the other girl upstairs, anyone.” He shrugged. “I do what I want to do. I expect others to do what they want to do. On those odd occasions when two or more people want to do the same thing at the same time, well that’s just part of the magic. I’m exhausted. I never intended to go after the Weasleys today. I’m going to get some sleep. “
She gave him an odd look. “Would you like company?”
He smiled. It struck her how he could smile and still appear to be so sad. “No, thank you.”
Fleur Delacour was amazed. No man had ever turned her down since she reached puberty. What kind of man was he?
“Thank you little friend”
“Master Harry ask Dobby to shop for Miss Fleur, Dobby do that.”
“How did you know my sizes?”
“House Elf know to shop for household, is part of Elf magic.”
“Tell me Dobby, what do you know of Master Harry?”
“Dobby good elf. Dobby never speaks of the Master’s business.”
“Dobby doesn’t know very much about Harry Potter, beyond the fact he forced Lucius Malfoy to free Dobby, and then he rescued me from the bastard, yesterday.”
Fleur turned to face the younger woman clad in a bathrobe descending the stairs. “I am Fleur Delacour. You are?”
“My name is Hermione Granger. Is Potter collecting women?”
“I don’t think he expected to find me. The eldest Weasley held me. We have something in common it seems, I was given to Lucius Malfoy recently. I look forward to killing him.”
“You’re too late, Potter did that yesterday. For the last three years, Ron Weasley has regularly used me. It seems we have quite a bit in common.”
“Miss? Master Harry had Dobby shop for Miss.” The elf handed her a bundle wrapped in brown paper.
“Clothing? I haven’t had clothing in three years…” the young witch whispered.
“We appear to be sharing the good fortune of being rescued from our servitude by a good man.”
“My father was the only good man I’ve ever known. He wants something, wait and see.”
“I do not know. I offered my self to him last night.” Seeing the look on the younger witches face she continued “I am Veela, we have different needs. Part of our abilities is the Veela charm. We can enthrall men. I wanted to find out if I was safe here, so I turned my charm on to him and asked to sleep with him.”
“He turned me down. No hesitation, when I use my charm even women will come to me. I accidentally learned that at school. Until last night no man had ever refused me.” A look of concern crossed her face. “I find that somehow comforting.”
The younger woman looked at her like she was insane.
Harry came down the stairs in time for lunch. He sat as far as possible from the two women, mumbling good morning as he passed. As he ate he seemed to remember something and pulled a wand out of his back pocket. He pushed it across the table to Hermione.
“Weasley’s. Thought you’d like it. He doesn’t need it anymore.” He frowned, “If I’d known what they’d done I’d have gotten you Malfoy’s and Zambini’s as well.”
“You killed him?”
“I wanted to kill him.”
“I know that. Your soul is clean, you don’t need to dirty it with killing.” He took a pull on the coffee. “My soul is damaged beyond all redemption. Let me take the hit for you.”
“Is my soul dirty as well?”
“Fluer, you’ve lived with different values. Hermione was raised with Church of England morals. Weren’t you?”
“How do you know these things?” She looked terrified of him. “How do you know so much about my life before the bad times? And don’t try to fool me with that ‘from another dimension’ crap!”
“Fine.” He stood and left he room, returning with the pensieve. He picked up the wand on the table and placing it against his temple, pulled out the silvery thread of memory, placing it in the bowl.
“Just put your face into the mist.” He looked embarrassed. “You’ll be seeing my memories.”
Hermione and Fleur landed in the scene and it began to run.
The portkey deposited several people that they both recognized as Weasleys and Harry Potter in the grassy lawn of an estate.
“My parent’s home” said Fleur amazed at what she was seeing.
They watched as Harry vomited all over his shoes.
“Honestly Harry” said another Hermione, waving her wand about and cleaning him. “You’ve got to learn to use a portkey without getting sick.”
“I’m working on it.”
The pair followed the group to a mass of people.
“Welcome to our wedding Harry!” said a beaming Bill Weasley. “Thank you for coming.”
“Glad I could make it Bill. This is some place.”
“Fleur’s from a very old and important family. I still can’t believe she chose me.” Bill sighed “She asked that you go to see her before the ceremony… Hey, no running off with my bride!”
Fleur was shocked. “We married? I married that monster?”
“Sorry Weasley, I’ve convinced her that short, speccy and skinny is better than 6 foot 2 inches of Red Headed God. You lose old man!”
Bill laughed and sent him off to meet the bride.
He turned a corner on his way to where Fleur was changing and there in a corner were Ron and Hermione, attempting to fuse at the mouths. He hurried along before they noticed him.
“Me and Weasley? No way. No way in hell!”
He reached the room where Fleur was getting ready. She swept him into her arms “’arri”
“Oh ‘arri, I am so glad you could come. I wanted a ‘Champions moment’ with you. And I wanted to see, if at least once before I become a proper married matron if you would succumb to my charm…”
“Don’t tease me Fleur. Bill would kill me.”
“And what of ‘ermione?”
“She’s with Ron. She’s happy. Ron’s happy. That’s what matters.”
“You do not matter ‘arri?”
“Not as much as they do. Let it go Fleur.”
“Alright ‘arri. But you must know that you do matter.”
“I’ve got to go if I want to get a good seat.”
“See you at the reception ‘arri.”
The ceremony was beautiful, both girls were amazed at the detail in his memories, just as Bill said ‘I Do’ chaos erupted. Death Eaters apparated into the ceremony and curses started flying. Bill and Fleur fell in the first volley, then the rest of the wedding party. They saw as the killing curse was closing on Harry’s back when the memory Hermione next to him spotted it and pushed him out of the way, only to fall after the curse struck her. They saw his eyes go wide in anguish and heard the wounded animal sound erupt from his throat as his magic bloomed and began to extinguish the lives of the Death Eaters.
They watched in silence as he slaughtered Voldemort and his inner circle. They watched as he used his magic to bury the dead, and both of them began to cry when he picked up Hermione’s body, wrapped her in a sheet and returned her to her parents.
The memory ended.
“Well now you know. Now you know what a monster I am.”
“You defended yourself after driven to madness”
“I’ve killed hundreds Fleur.” He turned his attention to Hermione. “Never ask me to let you become what I am. You are too important to me.”
Chapter Sixteen – Faith
“What do you think?”
Fleur looked up from the pensieve. Harry had left another collection of his memories in it, neither of them had had the courage to look at the lives that might have been theirs.
“I believe he is showing us his memories. I wonder how one can tell the difference between memories and the delusions of a mad man. However, he did show me my parent’s home. How could even a mad man know that?”
“When he took me… Her home, it was the house I lived in before they came for us.” She shuddered, “That was my mum, my daddy.”
“My marrying that Weasley Monster, that was madness.”
“No more so than my making love with that other Weasley monster.” A cold fury burned in her brown eyes. “They must have been very different people.”
“He could not kill your rapist. He tried, but it was not in him. I had to do it. He was almost in tears. His memories of young Ronald are of a good friend, one he had lost your counterpart to, happily so that they could be happy. He could have killed the older one without a thought, he only allowed me to do it because he could see how much I needed to do it.”
“Yet he wouldn’t bring him to me.”
“And he told you why. Mindlessly chauvinistic, but at least he has a reason.” She smiled. “At least he attempts to protect us, rather than use us.”
“Could he? Use us I mean?”
“I saw his power when he attacked Bill Weasley. He barely touched the man and flung him across a room. Weasley manipulated my Veela charm with charmed bracelets and a collar. Potter’s power is such that he could manipulate my abilities in such a was that both of us would beg him to take us any way he wanted, knowing in our souls that it was our idea. Imagine the self control involved in not doing that when it would be easy.”
They sat in silence for a moment. “I wonder what sex is like when you want it. When you want the one you are with.”
“It is the most wonderful feeling there is. You are right to wonder, given what you have experienced. Sex has been a part of my life since puberty; it is the Veela blessing and curse. Until I was taken when Beauxbatons was captured, I never had a partner I didn’t want.” She had a wistful look “If you decide to experiment, do not toy with Harry Potter. Where you are concerned, he is fragile. You have the face, the voice, the mind of a woman he lost forever. A casual fling for you would be devastating to him.”
That thought seemed to give the younger girl pause.
“Enough of this.” The French witch gestured to the pensieve. “Shall we?”
“Welcome back Harry.”
“Professor Flitwick. I was hoping that Madam Pomfrey had spoken with the council about Hermione Granger.”
“Ah, the Muggle Born you rescued. Yes, we have had discussions on the topic. Please, come in and see Luna and Amelia.”
This wasn’t a good sign. No ‘sure, bring her over.’ No ‘we can always use another wand’. Damn.
“Welcome back Harry.”
“I suspect that I’m not back, Madam Bones. What’s the decision on my Muggle Born friend?”
“There is a prevalent view that the Muggle Born are responsible for Voldemort’s excesses.”
“Madam Bones you know that’s a load of crap. Why are you allowing bigots to make policy?”
“I think perhaps everyone should concentrate on our primary goal of eliminating the Death Eaters.”
“Luna, if this is what your people stand for, I’m leaving and not coming back.”
“Harry, we need to serve the people we lead.”
“Professor McGonagall, if this is serving people then perhaps they should be moved back into their tents, after all the fidelis was brought to you by the son of a Mudblood.” Anger was building in him; his magic started pulsing off him. “If I find any of your people attacking Muggles or the Muggle Born, I will treat them as I treat any other Death Eater.” He hit them all with a death glare. “Then I go looking for their leaders. I thank you for the aid you gave me when I arrived. I believe the magic I have shared with you can be considered payment in full. We are done with each other.”
He turned on his heel and walked away ignoring their calls for his attention. Susan rushed up to him carrying a bundle.
“I’m coming with you.”
“Susan, I’m not coming back.”
“I know that. I told them they were idiots for taking this insane position. I told them that it would drive you away. I told Auntie Amelia that I would go with you if you left. She told me to quit being silly.”
“Susan, I don’t want to come between your Aunt and yourself.”
“You didn’t Harry. I saw that they had a chance to show the difference between the Death Eaters and themselves. They chose to be too much like them for my taste.”
“Quit arguing with me Harry. I’m going with you.”
“Susan, there are two women living with me. They were kept as sex slaves, they barely tolerate me. I don’t know how they will react to you. I mean…”
“So purebloods need not apply? How is this different from those idiots in there?”
Harry sighed. He was trapped and knew it. Had he ever won an argument with any woman ever? “I think we’re running out of bedrooms.”
“Not a problem. I’m sure I can find some place to bunk down…”
He sighed again, and gathered her into his arms. They were gone.
“Susan, this is Hermione and Fleur. They live here with me. Ladies, this is Susan.”
“Where did he rescue you from?” the French witch looked the new comer over in an appraising way.
“From my own silence and some pureblood nutters in the resistance.”
“You’re a Pureblood?”
“Yes she is Hermione. And you’re Muggle Born. Fleur is quarter Veela, and I’m a half blood. Should we get team jackets? Look we’ve all had rough lives, all of us just because of who our parents were.”
“I don’t care, I won’t live with a Pureblood.”
“You don’t have to Hermione. The door is right there.”
“You would send me away?”
“Not at all. You said you wouldn’t live with Susan. Susan is staying as long as she likes, just as you are. If you chose not to stay, that’s your decision. I open my home to everyone who would like to stay, but no guest can tell another they are not welcome.”
“I thought I meant something to you.”
“All three of you are reminders of what I have lost and I hope, friends. All three of you are good people, despite whatever inner demons drive you. I hope you stay Hermione, and get to know Susan.
Harry left following the evening meal, on another Reaper strike. The three women sat in the sitting room of the cottage pretending to read, stealing glances at each other.
“Well this is pleasant.” Said Fleur, breaking the silence. “Let us all clear the air shall we? Hermione and myself are refugees from the Directorate, this is why we hide here. And you Susan?”
“I have been on the run from the Directorate since I was 6 years old, when Directorate Death Eaters killed my parents and raped me.”
“But you are not here to hide from the Directorate are you?”
“No, I’m here to be with Harry. He is the only man I have ever wanted to be with.”
“You can have him.”
“Well thank you Hermione, so nice of you to make a gift of the man. I suspect that if anyone ‘gives’ me Harry, it will be Harry himself.”
“And if I wanted him? Do you believe you can win against my Veela charm?”
“If you could enthrall him, you already would have. If you wanted him, you would be more interested than you are. I don’t see this as a competition, I see this as you two not wanting him, and I do.”
“Perhaps we could share? It will be another week or so before my urges become too intense to ignore… The ‘common knowledge’ that Veela do not share their men is nonsense. When I go into my active cycle, the pheromone release will effect us all. If no other men are available, who knows what will happen? Perhaps we will all share him.”
Harry apparated to the perimeter of the Nott estate. So, the Reaper has finally gotten peoples attention. A dozen guards were patrolling the grounds. He picked up the guards, gathered them into a writhing mass of bodies, and then banished them into the tall stonewall. He apparated into the mass of Dark Marks he detected in the building, shredding the wards with a thought.
He appeared into the middle of a dinner party.
“Good evening. I am the Reaper. I bring death to those who wear the mark of the lunatic Half Blood Tom Riddle. I do hope you enjoyed your last meal.”
A dozen spells impacted on his shield, following them came the green flash of the Killing Curse. Harry cast a hybrid spell he had been experimenting with, a battering shield, which used its momentum to deflect the Killing Curse away from him. Harry cast a wide area stunner and smiled as the dinner guests fell.
“Who are you?”
“Tommy, you cut me to the quick. Do you actually not know who I am?”
“Tommy, I’m your evil twin from another Dimension. Of course you are such an evil son of a bitch, it makes me a sweet guy.” Harry laughed. That always pissed Riddle off. The angrier he got the more mistakes he made. “I’m here to kill you Tommy.”
Riddle started to cast another Killing Curse, Harry cast a silent bludgeoning curse that slammed the Dark Lord into the wall behind him.
“Ah, ah , ah. Not your time yet Tommy. I’ve got a whole lot of your followers to kill first. Want to know my plan? I’m going to demonstrate to your Death Eaters that you cannot protect them. They will tear each other apart trying to protect themselves from me. Your boys don’t know the meaning of teamwork. Say good night Tommy!” Harry pulled the wall down on him.
By the time Riddle had dug himself free, all of the marked at the dinner party were dead.
Major Llewellyn and Sergeant Evans monitored the crossing. The vehicle count was consistent. This would make a good ambush. Hit and run, just as it had been for 16 years. The Directorate would be losing some people tomorrow.
Harry returned to the cottage exhilarated. He had stood up to Tom and won, at least a battle.
“Good evening Master Harry.”
“How was everyone tonight Dobby?”
“Miss, Miss Susan and Miss Fleur were fighting.”
“Over you Master Harry Sir.”
“Why would they fight over me?”
“Master Harry, you bring Veela into house with two other women. Does Master Harry not know how Veela not mated make other women feel?”
“Master Harry, you need to study this. You will be Mate of all three women soon.”
Chapter Seventeen – Tribulations
Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort, the Master of the world stared unbelievingly at the mirror. What had that Reaper fool done to him?
He cast another diagnostic spell, which returned nothing, just like all the others. The Healers had no clue as to what it was.
All twelve members of his protective detail died in a few seconds, silently. An estate with some of the best wards in the world, penetrated with seemingly no effort. For the first time since Dumbledore, an opponent had landed a spell on him. On HIM. Then his hosts and their guests were murdered while Riddle had dug himself out from under the wall that the Reaper had pulled down upon him. Not for the first time he found himself asking where had this ‘Reaper’ come from?
He cast a glamour on his face, and watched in anger as it, like the 19 before it dissolved away. There was no hiding the damned thing.
He raged throughout his apartments, destroying priceless antiques, scorching irreplaceable artwork, vaporizing furnishings. Almost immediately feeling bad about it. These were not the actions of the ruler of the world. He was acting like an angry 16-year-old, like when he made his first Horocrux. Now he would have to apologize to the house elves. He tamped down on his anger and magic.
If he was going to succeed against this ‘Reaper’, he was going to need to calm himself. Their exchange had proven to him that they were near equals in power. Riddle (he still thought of himself by that hated name, even after all these years) however had become complacent. He hadn’t dueled in a decade, not since Dumbledore, this new comer evidently dueled quite a bit, his speed and spell selection that of a much younger man. In addition, he knew what buttons to push to drive Riddle into a fury. At 73 Riddle was in middle age, but this Reaper moved like a man in his 20s.
Most feared his fury; the Reaper used it to make him sloppy. And laughed at him. Again, Riddle turned to the mirror and closely examined what the healers were calling ‘a blemish. For all the world it appeared to be a port-wine stain birthmark, in the shape of a stylized lightning bolt starting above his right eye and ending on his left cheek.
That damned Reaper had marked HIM.
“Good morning Fleur.”
“Good morning Harry.” It did not look like he had gotten any sleep the night before, had he been here the whole time? “Is there something wrong?”
“When I got back last night Dobby told me that I ought to get to know about your Veela charms. I’ve been through the entire library at Hogwarts and found very little on the Veela at all.” He looked uncomfortable. “Dobby suggested that it might become necessary for me to… mate with the three of you because of your charms… Is he making sense, or am I reading too much in to his way of thinking?”
“The Veela do not take well to not having regular sex. If we go more than twenty days or so without indulging, our bodies react badly. When our drives are ignored, the charm goes into over drive, as do our bodies, dumping pheromones into the air so as to bring potential mates to us and to drive the Veela into a mating frenzy. During these cycles, in close company, the pheromone dump will also affect other women, driving them to mate as well. My first time following puberty, not knowing what was wrong; I started quite the orgy in my dormitory. Since you are denying me, I suspect that Hermione, Susan, and I will be attacking you within the 5 days or so.”
“So, if we have sex, Susan and Hermione won’t be affected?”
She smiled. “Yes.”
“Even though I don’t love you?”
Hermione entered the kitchen. “If that’s your smooth move Potter, it needs work.”
“In so many ways Harry is an ideal man Hermione. To keep you from suffering from my pheromones he is considering sacrificing his virtue.”
“This is insane. I’m 17 year old and a beautiful woman is telling me she wants sex and I’m trying to figure a way out of it.”
“You must have loved her very much Harry.” Fleur shot Hermione a pointed look. “Come with me, we will make love.”
“Ok, ok.” She took his hand and started to lead him away.
He stopped. “Wait.” He went to his cloak and pulled out a small package. “I almost forgot,” he handed the package to Hermione. “Happy Birthday.”
Fleur led him away. Hermione waited a moment, then untied the string and removed the brown paper. Inside was a copy of Pride and Prejudice. A gasp escaped her lips and she clasped the book to her chest.
Susan came in and saw the expression on her face “What’s wrong?”
“Harry got me a book. I’d forgotten that it was my birthday, and he remembered.”
“Your counterpart was a major part of his life. He knew Fleur and Me as well; I doubt that he knows our birthdays.”
“You’re probably right.” She smiled. “I love this book.”
“Fleur having her way with him?”
“Yes, she told him about her cycle. Convinced him that by doing her, he would save us.”
“I don’t want saving.”
She is going to need him once or twice a month. I suspect you’ll get him the rest of the time.”
Major Llewellyn lowered his binoculars. The food convoy bound for Edinburgh was due in about 35 minutes. It was supposed to be escorted by a dozen magic users as well as 10 collaborators. Sergeant Evans was in position to detonate their home brewed claymores. Four riflemen were positioned to deal with any magic users that might be on brooms. These fools still had not learned than no shield they could conjure in midair would stop a bullet.
“The wand users will go hungry tonight Major.”
“In deed sir.”
“What have we done Poppy?”
“Made a mistake. I told you when you were doing it. You underestimated Potter AND your niece Amelia.”
The two sat in the kitchen drinking tea.
“I never thought she would actually leave.”
“Of course not Amelia. After all who would have thought that she would follow the boy who pulled her out of the shell she built around herself, who got her to speak again, that she took to her bed?” She smiled at her old friend. “Oh, wait. I thought that.”
“No one likes a smart ass Poppy.”
“Not until you’re hurt, then you like me a lot.” Poppy smiled into her mug “She’s a good girl, Amelia who held you up as the symbol of all that is right. Then you make a wrong decision against a man who she has fallen in love with. Why are you surprised?”
Chapter Eighteen – Communion
Two redheads exited the Leaky Cauldron together. It had been a long day. There was little joy in working in retail, but until they could save the money for the shop they planned to buy together, there were few other choices.
“Good evening Gentlemen.”
They spared a glance to the dark haired kid who suddenly was walking between them.
“I’m looking for the world famous Weasley Twins.”
“Bad luck for you.”
“No Weasleys here.”
“Prewett, not Weasley.”
“That’s too bad. I have some things that need blowing up real bad. Things that I would like to blow up real good. I’m told that the Weasley Twins are among the very best at blowing stuff up.”
“Prewetts here, not Weasleys. Not every redheaded twin is a Weasley.”
“Never heard of a Prewett blowing stuff up, twin or otherwise.”
“That’s because Prewett Twins”
“Never blow stuff up.”
“Or call attention to themselves”
“Because we’re perfectly…”
“Normal in every way.”
“Is that too bad?”
“A girl I know named Fleur has a thing for twins that blow stuff up”
“She used to live with a guy named Bill.”
“We know a Bill.”
“Her Bill had an accident. She asked me to find the Weasley Twins, something about thanking them for trying.”
“A most personal thank you.”
“I wasn’t really listening, but she was talking about wanting to baisez vos cerveaux dehors ”
“We’re the Weasley Twins.”
“He’s Fred. I’m George.”
The three days previous:
“Wow. That was… Wow.”
“Merci.” She looked down on him, her body shining in sweat. Her scent filled the room. “Three times Harry? I love the recuperative abilities of young men.”
“I can’t feel my legs. Wow.” He panted. “I’m not complaining, but I think you’re killing me.”
She smiled. “There are worse ways to die, no?”
He pulled her down for a kiss, and then rolled to his side taking her with him. She positioned her self so that he remained inside of her, and began nibbling on his neck while rocking her hips toward him. His breathing increase as he took in her pheromones.
“Fleur, the spirit is willing, but the flesh is spongy and bruised. Can we, I don’t know, talk for a while?”
“Do you want to hear the sad story of my life?”
“It’s not like that Fleur. I’ve told you everything about me, you’ve seen my memories.” He paused and shuddered, “I don’t have that much experience Fleur, only one other woman, but I’ve never felt anything like that before.” He shuddered again. “Please don’t do that, or I won’t be able to talk.”
“Perhaps I don’t want to talk.” She giggled when his eyes bugged out. “After all, you didn’t know much about my counterpart other than she was beautiful and thought you were a little boy, and then she was marrying your friend’s older brother.”
“I wasn’t uugh living with her, she never invited me into her bed. Please stop doing that. I want to know you. And heal a little bit.”
“Alright. I was born and raised on my father’s estate near Nice. When I was 11, I went to Beauxbatons. Unlike your world, the rise of Voldemort prevented a triwizard tournament. My 7th year, France and Beauxbatons fell to the forces of Voldemort, and I was taken as a prize. I was presented to Bill Weasley for bringing down our wards.” Her face darkened. “My sister Gabrielle was killed in the culling of undesirables of Beauxbatons. Weasley took me and traded my body for job advancement. He used me himself, and allowed his brothers Charlie, Percy and Ron to use me whenever they wanted. His sister used me to entertain her boyfriends, and on occasion had me pleasure her. You rescued me, allowed me to kill Weasley, I killed his younger brother for you, you brought me here, and I brought you to my bed.” She used her inner muscles to squeeze him again and smiled when he reacted. “Any other questions?”
“I thought my life was hard. I had no idea the Weasleys were so bad. You didn’t mention the twins.”
“Fred and George are nothing like the others. Bill sent me to them ‘to make them men’. They put me into one of their beds and kept the others away from me for most of a week. They never touched me, not once, not even when I asked. They tried to help me escape, but we were caught. Bill used the cruciatus curse on them as punishment. That was when they left saying they could not be part of a family who would treat a person as they were treating me. Fred cried when he snuck into Bill’s bedchamber to say goodbye. I haven’t seen George since they caught us.”
“Sounds like they meant a lot to you.”
“More than any men I’ve ever known. They didn’t want anything from me, only wanted to help me.” She smiled and nuzzled closer, her breath hot on his neck. “You remind me of them.”
“Did I kill the mood?”
She looked deeply into his eyes. “Not a chance Harry Potter. Are you rested yet? Hmm.” She ground against him. “Someone seems to be getting interested. Slowly this time?”
“uuuugh!” he responded.
“Fourth times a charm.” She giggled as she felt her body release another pheromone flood and his response. His eyes glazed over as conscious thought left him and instincts older than man took over.
Fleur felt her own controls slipping away; the part of her mind that monitored such things was surprised. This had never happened before. Both there bodies were covered in sweat, her pheromones triggering responses in his body, his in hers. Their magics started to react to each other. She distantly noted that they were no longer on the bed, but levitating five feet over it, and the animal portions of their minds had them thrusting into each other all the harder for it.
Fleur’s orgasm was building toward release, some how she knew that his was as well. His hands found the sides of her head and pulled her face to his. As their tongues touched, her orgasm broke. She bit down on his tongue, hard. This pushed his orgasm over the edge, his back arching.
All that she was poured into him. All that he was poured into her.
The tiny portion of her mind not addled by lust watched the incoming whole of Harry Potter in amazement. Communion was almost a myth among the Veela, a total irreversible sharing of self, thought to be possible only pair bonds built over decades, but she had known this Harry Potter less than a month, and only bedded him this day.
How was this possible?
“Sweet Merlin on a Pogo Stick!” Harry stumbled into the sitting room three hours later, and collapsed on the sofa.
Hermione looked up from her book. “The conquering hero returns. How went the war?”
“Next time I just run for the hills and let her turn you and Susan into ravening sex maniacs.”
“Turn? You mean we aren’t already? Aren’t we next on your lists of conquests?”
“That’s a bit unfair Hermione.” He pulled himself into a sitting position.
“Why? You Great Heroes collect women left and right don’t you? You hold our lives in your hand, how long will it be before you come to the bed you allow me to use to collect what you are owed?” She looked at him with loathing. “The ‘birthday present’, the attention, the looks you give me, it’s all part of your plan of conquest isn’t it?”
“In my life, I have had sex with two women, both of whom came to me. I will never come on to you. I will never approach you. I will never as much as touch you without your permission.”
“That’s what you say, that’s what Fleur and Susan believe, but I know better. I know what you are up to. Draco was nice on occasion too. You might as well just go ahead and collect what you’re due; I will never fall for your game.”
His face fell. “I’m sorry you feel that way Hermione.” He stood and left the room.
Hermione returned her attention to the book.
Susan found him after he missed dinner. He was leaning against the tree in the yard in front of the cottage, staring off into the distance, with track of tears running down his cheeks.
“What’s wrong Harry?” She sat beside him.
“Nothing Susan. Just feeling a little sorry for myself.”
She took his hand and kissed it. “You can share the sorrow with me.”
“You know I would never hurt you, right? That I would never… never do anything you didn’t want, right?”
“Of course I know that.”
“You’re sure? You trust me?” The answer seemed to be vitally important to him.
“Of course I trust you Harry. Why would you even ask?
“Hermione doesn’t trust me. She thinks I’m going to rape her.”
“She told you that?”
“Why are you letting this bother you so much?”
“Hermione is the smartest person I know. Just about every single time she’s told me something, it’s turned out to be true.” He looked to her, his eyes full of tears. “What if she’s right? What if I am as much of an animal as she says I am? I mean I’ve been killing people since I got here, how am I different than Voldemort?”
Susan drew him into a hug. “Don’t listen to that stupid girl. She doesn’t know anything about you. You are a good man Harry Potter.”
“Am I?” He looked at her with fear in his eyes “How do you know?”
Susan stormed into the sitting room. She pulled the book from Hermione’s hands and flung it across the room, then backhanded the startled girl across the face.
“You stupid bitch. How could you do that to him?”
“I didn’t do anything to him. We were talking and I offered my opinion.”
“What did you say to him Hermione?” Fleur asked calmly.
“I suggested that since he had taken you, that Susan and I would be next.”
“Harry did not ‘take’ me. He gave himself to me. If anyone was used, I used him.”
“Or so he’d like you to think. I’ve seen his manipulative kind. Get you to trust him, then he and two of his friends are all fucking you at the same time.”
“Ok” Susan said through gritted teeth. “He traveled from another universe, saved me from a Death Eater attack, designed and built the Reaper Personae, attacked Hogwarts and other Death Eater centers, freed you from the Malfoys, Fleur from the Weasleys, and me from the pureblood bigots of the resistance, and brought us all here to safety. He abandoned the company and protection of the Resistance because they wouldn’t accept you, just so he could get into your pants? Is this what you’re saying?”
“You do understand how silly that sounds do you not Hermione?” Fleur looked at the younger witch. “Harry and I experienced an unexpected communion, I am still processing his experiences, but he has always been a good respectful man.”
“That isn’t what I said Fleur. What I said is…”
Susan hit her again. “I don’t give a tinker’s dam what you think you said you stupid bint. A good man is out in the yard crying because he believes you to be the smartest woman he knows and cannot believe that you could possibly be wrong. You get your ass out there and fix what you’ve done or you won’t have to worry about Harry, you will need to worry about me!”
“Me as well. Harry has shown us nothing but kindness. He has made no demands on you aside from treating his other guests with respect, and you say that to him? You have seen his memories; you know the regard he held your counterpart in. How could you do this?”
It had begun to rain by the time Hermione swallowed her pride and went to find Harry. He was still sitting under the tree, soaked to the skin, the tears would not stop. How could I have invaded Fleur’s mind like that? What kind of animal am I?
He did not answer. Maybe she will go away.
She did not go away. “I’m sorry Harry.”
“For what? You told the truth.”
“Harry, except for my Daddy, the only reference I have for men were the Malfoys. I’m sorry I lumped you in with them. I know you’re not like that.”
“I am like that Hermione. I think about sex with you all the time. When I was with Fleur today, I was thinking about you. Wondering if you tasted like she tasted, if you kissed like she kisses, if you smell like she smells. It used to be her in my mind, the other Hermione. Now it’s you, hair cut the way you wear yours, the scar on your left breast, even those initials carved in your thigh.” His shoulders shook with sobs. “I dream of you. I know you don’t want me. I swear I’ll never actually touch you, but I am the monster you fear.”
“You think dreaming about sex with me makes you a monster? Honestly Harry, “she saw his body jerk, but didn’t make the connection to her counterpart. “Dreaming about sex makes you a normal man. Having consensual sex with Fleur or Susan or me does not make you a monster. Raping a woman would make you a monster; I do not believe you would ever do that. I don’t believe you could do that.” She knelt beside him. “In your dreams and fantasies, are you hurting me? Are you forcing me to do anything?
“There you have it. The normal male mind. You poor clods think about sex all the time. You do not fantasies about hurting me, you fantasies about making me feel good. I don’t know if I’ll ever want such a relationship, but it was wrong of me to take my bad mood out on you. You aren’t a monster. You won’t hurt of us.”
Then how did I get into Fleur’s mind?
She reached down to take his hand. “Let’s get you inside and dried off. You can’t save the world if you’re sick in bed with a cold.”
"The spirit is willing but the flesh is spongy and bruised." - Zapp Brannigan