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Chapter 17 - Then and Now

The Lady Helena stood by the Brobdingnagian bed in her thin sleeveless white linen shift. She had been married for a short time to the Earl of Grey, but she felt like a blushing virgin bride - it had been the better part of a thousand years, after all. She tried to remember everything her mother, Rowena Ravenclaw, had told her about what to expect on her wedding night.

"Your Lord Husband will probably be older than you and therefore experienced in the act of coupling."

Her first husband, the Earl of Grey, had only visited her, briefly, on their wedding night to consummate the marriage. It had been short and unpleasant, but he'd managed and she had done her wifely duty.

Harry, her new husband, hadn't been conceived until the nine-hundred sixty-fourth anniversary of Helena's murder, but he was definitely more experienced than she.

"Do not be surprised if he comes to your bed drunk and a bit gamey - sweat and ale is the musk of a man and all of them have it. Be thankful if he washes his face and hands and be truly thankful if he shaves on the morning of his wedding - beards can be frightfully prickly."

Gamy, smelling of ale and sweat, prickly; John Grey had been all these things. It was amazing what an eleventh century woman was expected to endure.

Harry, freshly showered, entered the bedchamber wearing naught but a towel about his waist and looked at Helena quizzically. She blushed and pulled the duvet and sheets back. Her wizard smiled and gathered her into his arms, he smelled wonderful, blessed be the late Twentieth Century!

He kissed her so tenderly that she didn't notice when he picked her up and laid her gently on the sheets.

"If he is a warrior his hands will, no doubt, be calloused and rough. If he is a gentleman less so, but his nails, at least, will be clean."

Harry gently caressed Helena's face as he kissed her, the tip of his tongue touching her teeth. She opened her mouth to give him access and timidly touched his tongue with her own.

If Helena had any concept of electrical current she would have recognized the feeling that passed between them - but she knew it was some kind of magic.

Helena, new to the sport of tongue-wrestling, proved to be a natural. As they deepened their soulful snog her hands traveled over his arms, back and chest. At some point he'd lost the towel so he lay next to her in naught but his skin. She moaned in pleasure as he gently caressed her firm breast through the linen, rubbing her distended nipple with his thumb.

There was that feeling again, that magic that made her loins sweat with anticipation. She'd never felt that for Lord Grey.

The left side of Helena's shift was held in place by crisscrossed silken lacings, which came undone because Harry wished it so - no other reason. It was the work of a moment to divest his lady of her sheer garment.

Helena blushed with her entire body, in her time ahusband and wife could live together for years and never see each other completely denuded. She'd never seen her first husband thus.

She remembered her mother describing her experiences with her husband, Salazar.

"He raises my hem just far enough, moves his codpiece aside and plunges into me with abandon for perhaps aminute or two, spills his seed, then recovers quickly. We carry the musk of our coupling for hours after the act, so that, if anyone meets us, they know what has transpired. Godrick has an uncanny knack for finding us post coitus."

She averted her gaze as Harry devoured her naked form with his eyes.

"Beautiful!"

"Milord?"

"You, Helena. You are so beautiful; I wish I had the words . . ."

There was that sensation again, that /passion/. And then it struck her, that feeling. She was completely, totally, utterly in love.

Never had her mother ever spoken of love for Salazar, a deep affection, yes, but she had "affection" for mulled wine, fresh cut flowers, horses and hounds and her favorite shoes.

Harry kissed the juncture of Helena's neck and shoulder and smiled at her pleasured groan.

"My Lorrrrrrdddddd!"

He moved to the other shoulder and, as he licked and sucked the sensitive skin there, slid his hand down to cup her fur covered sex.

Her short, curly hairs were the first coarse pubic hairs he'd ever felt and he was intrigued by their texture.

His hands were the first that had ever touched her so intimately. Her mother had insisted that "ladies" didn't touch themselves "in that place" except to bathe, and then only briefly. Harry's gently kneading fingers transported her.

Before she knew it, her warlock had latched onto her left breast, tonguing and kissing the erect nipple. Helena decided at that moment that she would have as many babies as Harry was willing to give her and she would not be employing a wet-nurse.

"He will expect you to stand by the bed, awaiting his pleasure - if he is a Norman expect him to be verbose, florid and have disgusting habits of the tongue.

As his wife you will be expected to endure this - try to think of King and Country, it will help."

Harry went down on her, tracing aline with the tip of his tongue from the valley between her breasts, through the dimple of her navel, to the short, curly hairs of her pudendum.

She thought, 'disgusting habits of the tongue?'

"Oh, mother! You should have said "delightful" habits of his "breathtaking" tongue!"

As he snaked the tip of his lingual muscle to touch the bottom of her throbbing clitoris Helena saw stars, and cried, loudly, "Morgana, Merlin, Hecate and Maeve!"

Harry smiled and raised his head,"So, you approve, Lady Helena?"

She spoke so quickly that she was practically babbling "Oh, Harry. Mother said, "Think upon King and Country,"but you are my king, you are my country, my love and my God, my lord!"

Grinning broadly he chuckled,"I'll take that as a yes then," then proceeded to wring as many orgasms as were magically possible out of his lady. His talented tongue knew a smattering of French, German, and Parseltongue in addition to English. He was indeed acunning linguist.

)O(

She opened her eyes to see Harry's face hovering above hers, "Helena, are you alright, Luv?"

"What, what happened?"

"You, ah, passed out. You weren't moving - I wasn't sure you were breathing."

Helena blushed, "Perhaps I abandoned myself to your ministrations a bit too much, milord."

"How about we just lie here and cuddle?"

"Cuddle?" she asked.

"A modern term, it means to hold your lover close, with a bit of kissing and caressing."

"What? Completely naked?"

"Oh aye, completely starkers."

She smiled saucily, "It sounds delicious, milord. A brief rest before I have you as I want."

"He may be tender or rough, whatever the case will be his choice - you will do whatever he requires of you."

They lay in silent bliss for atime, then Helena timidly touched Harry's stiff member. "Does it hurt, Harry?"

"Not usually, it's more a need than a pain."

She noticed a clear drop of fluid forming on the tip of his gland.

"Is this normal?" she asked, rubbing the warm, viscous fluid between her thumb and forefinger.

"Yes, I think he's weeping for you."

She guided Harry's hand down to her own very wet curls, "as she weeps for you, Harry."

Harry, still cupping Helena's sex, intoned the vagina /curatia/ charm.

Helena felt such a sudden and powerful need for her warlock that she grabbed his shoulders and pulled him physically on top of her. As soon as Harry was atop her she spread her legs wide and reached between them for his pulsating shaft. When they were lined up she cried "Now, Harry, please! Now!"

He pushed through her entrance, then pulled out, before pushing in a bit deeper, then out again before sliding completely in so that she felt his ball-sack touching her peritoneum.

"You, ah my Goddess - you're in so deep, sooooo deeeep!"

"Are you okay, Luv?"

She thought for a moment.

"Regardless of how tender his ministrations, his horn will be stiff and demanding and at first very painful -essence of murtlap after the act will ease the bleeding and burning pain."

Smiling, Helena said, "I'm more than just "okay", Harry. Now move!" As she said this she bucked her hips up to take even more of his delicious "horn" into herself.

"Your husband will spend himself in you very quickly, which will be a blessed relief."

Harry began a slow count of eight shallow, eight deep, eight slow, eight fast - a pace that he could keep up all night without flagging. Helena lost herself in the act; she became a nymph, acreature of pure lust as wave after wave of pleasure reverberated through her body. She shrieked through the highest peaks and purred with contentment as he continued pumping in and out, in and out, and in and out.

Harry's breath became ragged and his thrusts became more urgent, which drove Helena over the edge to the most powerful climax of all. She shrieked as she felt the heat of his seed splash against her womb.

They pressed their pelvic bones close together as Harry released spurt after delicious spurt inside her.

At last they lay, side by side, blissfully exhausted.

"If you wish to have his sons, lay in bed with your knees up and bent so that his seed may plant itself deeply in your womb. If you wish for a daughter to bring into the crafte then lie on your side while holding your knees as you sleep."

Helena curled on her side, her back to Harry, then reached behind to draw him to cuddle against her back. She was pleasantly amazed to feel his member softened but still firm.

"If you like, milord, we can find a warm sheath for this sword."

They both groaned in pleasure as Harry slipped inside her. They lay spooned together just drifting in and out of peaceful, post coital bliss.

)O(

Severus stared straight into Dumbledore's icy blue eyes, devoid of the sparkle that accompanied passive legilimency -which wouldn't work on him regardless - and clarified what had just passed between them.

"So four muggle families will die, and we will do nothing to help?"

Pain distorted Dumbledore's usually placid face. "To do so would compromise your position within the ranks of the Death Eaters."

"Don't you dare!" Snape hissed,"Don't you begin to dare to make this in any way my fault!"

"I'm sorry, Severus, a poor choice of words."

"Surely the "greatest sorcerer of our time" can find some way to make these families safe? You saw my memory; the Dark Lord wants the families killed, every generation. Grandparents, parents, children. Whole lines of magical potential wasted!"

"I am open to suggestions, Severus."

Snape spun and made for the door,"so am I," he whispered to the empty stairwell.

)O(

Defense against the Dark Arts was the combined Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff class on this particular morning. Professor Snape began his lecture, as he often did, with stories of past conflicts with dark forces.

"During the last war the Dark Lord employed a very effective tactic to instill terror in the magical population. One designed to effectively crush potential resistance groups."

Severus looked at each student, he didn't use legilimency, he didn't need to - he read their body language. The professor soon found the right pairs of eyes to convey the message to Lily's son.

"He would kill entire families. Usually those he considered inferior, muggleborns, were often targets."

Tiny Li Su, or Su of the House of Li, raised her eyebrows questioningly. Snape nodded and she understood.

"If one of his Death Eaters was captured or killed then one muggleborn family would pay the price - to the last generation."

Li Su gasped, "Professor, what if four Death Eaters were killed?"

"Then four families would pay the price."

Severus knew he'd planted the seed, "As a practical assignment today you will form teams, no less than two students, no more than four. The purpose will be to devise a means of defending a target family - or families - in such a way that they are protected but the forces of the Dark Lord will believe that they have succeeded."

Snape walked among the students listening carefully for any hope of a solution.

"Naaah, that'll never work!" Ernie MacMillan chided one of his study mates.

"What will never work, Mister MacMillan?"

"Sorry, Professor," Ernie apologized, "but Finch-Fletchly here suggested transfiguring pig carcasses to look like the people and then burn the houses."

Snape's eyebrows shot up, "Ten points to Hufflepuff, exemplary thinking Mister Finch-Fletchly."

The professor turned to look at each group as he explained, "No idea is to be discarded off hand as improbable. Muggles have a saying, do they not? Just crazy enough to work!"

Following that the ideas flowed, but kept a common thread - decoys. Making sure the Death Eaters were sent to the wrong address where they would attack magical constructs and transfigured objects that resembled the targets.

Li Su's group recommended placing four decoy "families" in one track of abandoned apartments, then letting it"slip" that muggleborn students routinely went home for one weekend a month to help them transition into the magical world.

Susan Bones had the most outlandish plan of all. One that required the assistance of several people - the target families, some of the Hogwarts staff and the Salem Institute of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

)O(

Snape looked at the stacks of parchment on his desk, and sipped a small brandy as he picked each one apart, detail by detail.

He wasn't enjoying himself.

When he was startled from his reverie by a knock at the door he was grateful for the intrusion.

"Professor Snape."

"Mister Potter, come in."

"Professor, do we know when the attacks will occur?"

"It will be on the darkest night, during the next new moon."

Harry, like all wizards and witches was aware of the current phase of the moon. "The night after tomorrow, then?"

Snape nodded.

"Any good suggestions?" Harry asked, looking over the pile of parchment on the desk.

"A fair few . . ." the professor admitted.

"But," Harry prodded, "there must be a "but"."

". . . But, they all require people and resources that I do not have."

"Dumbledore?" Harry suggested.

Snapes expression soured, "The headmaster is grieving the impending loss of life and magical potential, but will do nothing to interfere."

"Professor, if I can get the people and assets we need, will you work with us?"

Snape wouldn't meet Harry's eyes, but he nodded, "Of course."

"All right then," Harry said and handed the professor the sheaf of parchment he'd brought in. "The bit about sending the Deeters . . ."

"Deeters, Potter?"

". . . Sounds less threatening than "Death Eaters," doncha think?"

"Indeed."

Harry resumed, "Sending the Deeters to wrong addresses, abandoned houses, shacks, apartment blocks all over Britain is brilliant. After that. . ."

The skull session went on till well past midnight, but by then the salient details were all worked out.

)O(

Charles Baxter, senior CB on staff at Gringotts, studied the rune-schemes in the old Malfoy Manor's hidden cellar and nodded his head in appreciation. This was one of the most complex traps he'd ever seen - it used a classic low-level intimidation aura designed to make a curse breaker nervous - and nervous curse breakers made mistakes.

Something about the whole set-up was hauntingly familiar - something he'd seen as a young man. Something . . .Egyptian!

The veteran curse-breaker laughed out loud.

)O(

It was an assignment from Hogwarts, specifically the Defense against the Dark Arts NEWT-level project. Students who'd planned on careers as curse-breakers and those enamored with the Dark Arts researched ancient curses. This particular "report" had been written two centuries before and was still being peddled to underclassmen by unscrupulous seventh year students.

Baxter, ever the skeptic, had asked the upperclassman, "If it's so good, why didn't you turn it in? And if you did, and I offer up the same report won't I just get myself expelled for plagiarism?"

The seventh year shrugged, grinned lopsidedly and said, "Suit yourself - it was worth a shot," and binned the parchment on his way out of the common room.

Charles recovered it from the bin; it could prove to be useful someday.

)O(

Baxter arranged five curse-sensitive crystals equidistantly using an amethyst in the center of the room as a focus point. Each crystal formed a perfect seventy-two degree angle with its next component. As the last crystal aligned perfectly with its fellows the runes in the room began to glow.

"Very nice work, for an amateur,"he said to the room, "now let's see where the real curses are, shall we?"

There's an old saying, "There are no retired curse-breakers, and precious few veteran CBs. You don't get to be an "old hand" by being careless or taking anything, even school level curses, at face value.

He sat in an old chair just outside the open door and waited. Some curses had patiently waited thirty centuries before releasing their fury on unsuspecting victims - just look at Tutankhamen's tomb. Simply let the crystals annoy the more deadly curses into revealing themselves.

Small red threads of energy began to spark from one glyph to another, until the room began to glow with an eerie crimson radiance.

Baxter flattened himself against the wall next to the door as a blast of deadly Curses of every hue flew from the glyphs on the walls, floor and ceiling. He levitated the chair upon which he'd been sitting to the open doorway and nodded in satisfaction at the sound of quadruple "thunks" as the chair was simultaneously pierced by four thick arrows. He recognized the slightly acrid smell of basilisk venom, oozing from the arrowheads.

Charles extended his small periscope to survey the room through the open door.

Blast marks, projectiles, spears and arrows marred every surface in the room, except for the sarcophagi. The two caskets were remarkable in that they were completely untouched. In fact, agreat deal of energy had been invested to ensure that no curse or other deadly mechanism could even get near the two caskets.

The curse-breaker mused aloud,"Whatever's in those boxes must be protected, so . . ." he pointed his wand from around the edge of the door and cast an opening spell, ". . . patefaciamus!"

The sarcophagus nearest the door cracked open and all the maleficent energies in the room ceased - straight away, as if someone had shut off a valve.

Baxter repeated the spell for the other casket, then carefully entered the room, ever watchful for any residual curse skulking in the corners.

Cautiously he stepped over the now inert runes and glyphs on the floor - no sense tempting fate - moved to the center of the room and gazed down into the sarcophagi.

In one he saw a strikingly beautiful girl, perhaps fifteen or sixteen with platinum blonde hair, dressed in a shimmering ruby red silk nightdress. Her chest rose and fell with regularity. He looked into the other to see a raven haired copy of the first girl in a similar gown of deep purple.

Baxter pulled a signaling mirror from his dragon-hide vest. "I need a med team at the old Malfoy place, now!"

The mirror responded, "What is your situation, are you injured?"

"No, I have two young girls in the cellar. They're in an enchanted sleep; God only knows how long they've been down here!"

"We're on our way!"