FicWad

I don’t even live in the same country as the owner of Harry Potter, so don’t go making outrageous claims.



A/N This took longer than I expected, but the story took a bit of an unexpected left turn as I was writing this chapter. Then I had to rewrite about 2000 words as they took the story to a place it shouldn’t have gone.





The Unexpected Result Of. . .





. . .A Package from Home





Harry woke early the next morning to find a pair of enchanting pale blue eyes staring back at him. He grabbed his glasses and slipped them on.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he said a bit sleepily. “Were you watching me sleep?”

She simply nodded.

He smiled at her but the serious expression lingered on her delicate features.

“And why’s that?” he asked.

She sighed heavily. “Just wondering how I got to be so lucky.”

“Lucky?”

Again she nodded. “You didn’t know who I was—you’d never even seen me before you reached the bottom of that lake. You could have left me down there like the others and simply worried about your own hostage.”

“I was dumb and believed you were really in danger.”

“You cared enough about a total stranger—a little girl you’d never met or even knew existed—to risk your life in order to protect her. That is the kind of man you are, Master,” she said reverently. “That is just one of the reasons you are special and I’m lucky.”

“Well, when you say it that way it sounds heroic, but—” he began.

“Did it ever cross your mind,” she asked, “even once while you were down there, just to leave me behind and trust to those running the task that I would be safe?”

He frowned. “Of course not,” he said.

“That,” she said seriously, “is what makes you a hero.”

She paused and he let that thought sink in but before he could respond, she went on.

“Then, when the bond was completed,” she continued, “you could have looked at me and seen only a child’s body and set me aside until I matured, forcing me to months or years of sitting by and watching you take pleasure in other, more attractive girls while you waited for me to grow tits and hips and a nice round arse.”

Harry looked horrified at the thought but again, she continued, before he could speak.

“Or, you could have taken advantage of the fact that I am meant to please you and merely demanded that, taking your own pleasure and leaving me to find my own in yours.” There were tears in her eyes as she enumerated the possibilities. “Instead, you’ve seen to my desires and pleasure more than you have your own. You’ve included me in your encounters with other girls and you’ve never once asked me to stand aside or acted ashamed of me or been embarrassed of me.”

“You could have rejected me completely,” she said and shivered a bit at the thought. “You could have refused to complete the bond and left me to my fate. After all, as I said, you didn’t know me. You could have. . .” She trailed off as though unable to bear the thought.

“I would never do any of that,” Harry said adamantly. “I love you, Gabby, even if it’s just because of the bond we share—and I don’t believe for a minute that it is—and I’d do anything to make and keep you happy. Push you aside? Never! I couldn’t do it. Use you to please me and not care about you? Impossible. Like you said, I cared about you before I knew you, how could I possibly care about you any less now that I do? And as far as being embarrassed. . . I could never be embarrassed by you. I may not have been aware enough to notice you before you came to me, but that was because I was stupid again. The connection we share opened my eyes,” he paused to let his eyes travel down her body and back up. “And all they see is a very beautiful girl. Why would I be embarrassed by her?”

She grabbed him in a hug and he held her close, giving her a peck on the ear.

“Oh, Master,” she said happily. “If I’d had all the time in the world to search for the perfect bond-mate and had all that time to imagine how it would be to be bonded, I would never have found anyone more perfect, nor would I have dreamed that a bond could make me feel this happy and content and complete.”

He tightened his hold on her, willing her to feel the depth of his feelings for her.

“I think I know what you mean,” he said. “At night, I dread going to sleep for fear of waking to find my bed empty and us having been the most wonderful dream I’ve ever had.”

Their lips found each other in a gentle, loving kiss. Each seemed to be trying to pour their emotions—the way they both felt about the other—into that kiss. As it broke, Gabrielle was breathing faster than normal, clearly overwhelmed by the love she felt from Harry.

He carefully rolled her on her back and leaned over her. He brought his mouth up and kissed her eyebrow, then her eye, her cheek, her nose and then once again her lips. She was clutching at him desperately as though afraid he might disappear if she let go. He was using his left arm to support himself and cradle her while his left hand wandered up and down her petite body, finding every interesting place to touch and stroke and caress.

He trailed kisses down her jawline to her right ear where he spent some time making sure that he paid it all the attention it deserved. He slowly licked the inside, and swept his tongue around it’s tender rim. He pulled teasingly on her earlobe with his lips and whispered, “If this is a dream, I want to sleep forever.” She shivered in delight and anticipation.

His right hand found her thigh and stroked down it’s length, made a swirling turn and travelled back up, past her hip and up to the side of her chest, all the while he had kissed his way down her neck towards her shoulder. On his way, he discovered another ticklish spot right at the juncture of her shoulder and neck; she couldn’t help but flinch and gasp when he paid it extra attention with his lips and tongue.

Moving down, he found her right nipple, already hard and begging for his attentiveness. He licked it once and she thrust herself up, begging for more. He certainly wasn’t about to refuse her. He focused on the little nub and the surrounding pink flesh, licking and sucking, nibbling and teasing to delighted reactions from the girl to which it was attached. Then, as though not wanting to play favourites, he spent equal time with it’s twin. Gabrielle was beginning to moan. She had the fingers of both of her hands tangled in his sleep-tousled hair.

His right hand, which he hadn’t allowed to remain idle, had continued caressing her lovely young skin. It had brushed and teased her left nipple whilst his mouth was busy with the right. When he’d shifted his oral ministrations to her left, however, the hand trailed back down the side of her. It had once again found her thigh and had gently lifted her leg so that it bent at the knee. Then it slowly slid down the back to find her firm round little arse. It seized a cheek and began softly kneading. He moved his right knee so that he was now straddling her right leg.

She pulled a bit with her hands still wrapped in his hair and he returned to her mouth where they kissed with abandon. As the kiss ended, the look in her eyes spoke volumes. She was ready; no more foreplay; she was desperate to have him inside her. He had wanted to go down on her as he still had yet to do so and he so wanted to please her that way, but this morning, he had decided, was going to be all about her. He wanted to please her, he wanted to meet her needs, he wanted to fulfil her desires.

He moved himself over so that he was between her legs, grasped his manhood and rubbed it up and down her cleft, coating it with her juices and placed it at her entrance. Somehow he knew that she wanted him to be gentle and loving right now; she wanted him to make love to her tenderly, so that was what he intended to do.

He slowly and carefully pressed himself into her. Her head went back and her eyes closed, a look of blissful contentment on her face, a slight smile gracing her lips.

“Oh, yes,” she said sensually. “Oh, Master.”

Once fully inside her, he began making unhurried strokes; he wanted this to last as long as he could manage. She wrapped her legs and arms around him, clinging to him as though she were drowning, as that was what he felt from her—she was drowning in his love for her.

He set a slow, easy rhythm, wanting nothing more than to funnel all his feelings for her through their union. She seemed to understand as she lay back and revelled in the sensations he was giving her.

He lowered his head and began whispering random endearments in her ear as he moved inside her. “I love you, Gabby. We’ll always be together. I’ll never leave you. We’ll never be apart. I’ll never let you go. I’ll always keep you safe. You’ll always be loved. I want to make love to you forever. . .”

She melted at the sentiments even as she took delight in feeling him sliding into her centre.

He kissed her lips and their tongues danced around each other. He could feel her passion for him pouring back through the bond even more than he ever had before. He wasn’t sure if it was because she was feeling it more intensely or because he was more focused on what she wanted at this moment and so was more open to receiving the feelings she was sending. Either way, he was entranced by the bliss he was able to give to her.

As the minutes passed, their lovemaking continued, hardly picking up any speed at all, just slow, methodical movements, drawing her inexorably towards completion. He moved a hand down to barely stimulate her clitoris as he felt her mounting need for release. She cried out when he touched it and drew him down for a soul-searing kiss. She was close, now, he could tell.

“I love you, Gabby,” he said when the kiss was broken. “More than I ever thought I could love anyone.”

“I love—you, too—Master,” she panted.

He continued stroking and caressing her little button and sliding inside her.

She began contracting spasmodically around him and he knew that she was on the very edge. He slowly lessened the pressure on her clit and moved his hand away to extend the time on her plateau as long as possible.

She was mumbling now—uttering nonsensical gibberish and tossing her head back and forth. He knew this was going to be a big one.

Still she contracted around him and he slowed the pace of his thrusts. She was inching closer and closer. He caressed various parts of her body with his hands, being sure to stay away from any sensitive spots like her nipples for fear of sending her over the edge.

She stopped mumbling and began a chanting, “Oh, oh, oh, oh. . .” that increased in pitch slightly with every repetition.

She was so close now that any extra stimulation would have pushed her over; he was careful not to so much as let his cock throb. And still he ever so slowly slid down into her and back out.

“Oh, God,” she finally said. “Oh, Master! I’m going to— I’m going to— I’m— I’m— Ahhhhh!” The scream was torn from her throat as she convulsed and orgasmed. Such a power climax it was that her fluids gushed around his cock. Again, she clung to him desperately, and the paroxysms of her small body were such that she nearly threw him off of her. The rapturous pleasure flooding over the bond to him caused his balls to contract, pushing him into his own release even though he’d been nowhere near. His sperm mixed with her secretions and dribbled out around him, dripping down on the bed.

They held each other as they came down from their ecstasy and their heartbeats and breathing began to slow.

Eventually, they simply lay together, giving no thought to getting up or cleaning themselves up, but simply enjoying the feeling of being held by someone that loved them. After all, it was Saturday and they could lie in all morning if they wished—and at that moment they both seemed to think that would be a very good idea indeed..

“Better get up, Harry,” said Ron as he threw open Harry’s curtains. “You’re going to miss—” He stopped suddenly.

“Damn it, Harry,” he said after taking in the scene before him. “What did I say about covering up if you’re sleeping like that?”

Harry looked back at his friend irritably, annoyed that he and Gabby had been intruded upon. “I wasn’t sleeping,” he said.

“Eeww,” Ron said, making a disgusted face. “I don’t want to hear that!” The curtains dropped back down and Ron was gone.

They tried to recapture the contented peace they’d been sharing, only to find that it was gone at least for the near future. Harry cursed Ron and Gabby grinned at her Master, kissing him on the nose.

“I love you, Master,” she said tenderly. “More than should be possible.”

After a few more minutes of wishing they’d not been interrupted, they gathered their things and left for the shower, Gabby still dripping their combined juices down her legs.

As they ate breakfast in the Great Hall alone—Hermione had apparently eaten earlier and Ron seemed to be trying his hardest to forget what it was he thought Harry was doing in his bed—they enjoyed the time to themselves. Harry noticed Fleur, however, sitting at the Ravenclaw table with an inscrutable look on her face. He discretely pointed her out to Gabrielle who growled quietly; clearly she was not over her anger with her sister. They looked up as the post arrived, not expecting anything but, as usual, checking to make sure. They were both surprised when a stately black owl landed in front of them. It had a package attached to it’s legs with a letter stuck on top.

“That’s one of our family owls,” said Gabby excitedly.

Harry retrieved the package which was addressed to him. He pulled the letter off and opened it, but seeing both their names, he tucked it back in the envelope and decided to wait until they could have a little more privacy.

After they finished eating they went in search of a private spot, finally finding a disused classroom on the first floor where sat down next to each other before Harry took the letter back out and held it so they both could read it.



Dear Gabrielle and Harry,

I have addressed this package to you, Harry for fear that it would not reach you if I addressed it to my daughter. It is for the both of you anyway. I have done a bit of research and discovered this book about Veela and their abilities. It is the most complete reference of Veela “Desmi” there is. I hope it will be of use to you and may answer some of your questions.

I am also writing this to let you know that I have filed your union through the BLCM here in France. I am aware of your notoriety, Harry, so I have called in some favours owed me to ensure that when the forms are filed in the British Ministry, they will be conveniently buried so as to keep it out of the press. So as of Thursday afternoon, you are officially Harry and Gabrielle Potter.

I am sorry to say that your father did not take the news as well as I’d hoped, my little angel, and I did not expect him to be happy about it. He actually threatened to come try to take you home to France! I managed to calm him down and, while he is still not pleased, he is, at least, not planning on causing any international incidents. Rest assured that he will be all right with your relationship by the time you visit this summer, I will see to it that he is.

I love you, Gabrielle and I am looking forward to getting to know my new son so that I may someday say the same to him.



Love,

Your Mother.



After they’d both finished reading it, Gabrielle took the letter from him and examined it carefully.

“That’s interesting,” she said.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“I assume mother used a translation charm on this since her written English is atrocious but I see it as English instead of French. Always before, translation charmed writing appeared to me in French.”

“Perhaps it’s the bond,” suggested Harry. “You did start speaking perfect English after it formed.”

“I suppose,” she said after giving it some thought, “that since you speak English, the bond made English my first language. Now that I think about it, I actually think in English now. I’d never really noticed the change before.”

Harry took the letter back. “What’s this ‘Desmi’ thing she talked about?”

Gabrielle perked up. “Desmi is the actual name for what the bond is. We’ve been just calling it a bond, but that’s a bit silly, really. That’s like calling a levitation charm a ‘floaty spell’. To be honest, I’d just forgotten the actual name.” She grinned impishly at him. “It’s not like I came to Scotland hoping to initiate one.”

“Oh, is that so my little minx?” kidded Harry. They both laughed before he returned to the letter. “What’s the ‘BLCM’?”

“It’s the Magical Creatures Liaison Office, or in French the Bureau de Liaison de Créatures Magiques. It’s the part of the French Bureau de Magique that deals with magical creatures like Veela. They keep a registry of Veela Desmi so that those who are bonded have the rights that they should.”

“Does that mean we’re. . . married?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “It would be very similar if we had the usual Desmi, but we don’t. I’m not completely sure but I believe you would now be listed as part of the Delacour family, the same as if you had been born into it, and I would be listed as your unsellable, priceless possession.”

“You’re a possession?” he asked, horrified.

“Of course,” she said nonchalantly. “You own me, Master. I am your property. I can’t own anything, even my lovely choker actually belongs to you.”

“But you’re not a thing, ” Harry said fiercely. “They shouldn’t be allowed to call you that!”

“Master,” she said soothingly, and he instantly calmed. “I know that you don’t think of me as a thing. I know that without you having to say it. I know because of what you did for me this morning. But that does not change the fact that I am your possession; I am something to be owned—an object.” Harry started to protest again. “But I would rather be an object and be owned by you than to be a person and have to go back to France alone. It doesn’t matter what they say. It doesn’t matter what’s written on those forms. What matters is how you see me when you look at me and the fact that I can see in your eyes how much you care.”

He pulled her into an embrace and they held each other for several minutes. When they broke apart, Harry felt a bit better, though truth be told he still wasn’t completely happy, but he’d realized that there was nothing he could do about it and what she said was right, it really didn’t matter what was written on some government paperwork, only how he and Gabby felt. If she was happy with it, he would find a way to be all right with it as well. They decided to open the book and see what they could find about their Desmi. Apolline had been kind enough to mark the proper place for them. Gabby took the book and read aloud:



Desmi Didoneros:

Very little is known about this Desmi. It is believed that it may be possible for a Veela to form this Desmi with a non-Veela as with other Desmis, however, with this particular Desmi being as rare as it is, it is not known if one has ever existed or if it is even at all possible. . .



“Well, we know it’s possible,” commented Harry. “I hope they don’t try to come study us or anything.”

“We needn’t worry about that,” Gabby replied. “A Desmi is almost a sacred thing to the Veela. No matter how rare an opportunity this is, they would never violate our privacy like that.”

Harry felt better and Gabby continued.



. . .or if it is even at all possible, though as all other Desmi are possible with a non-Veela partner, it is likely this one is as well.

This Desmi forms when one partner dominates the other, who submits. The dominating partner becomes the Tyrannos (or, informally, the Prime) and the submitting partner becomes the Daman (or, informally Subdued or Sub—though, not to be confused with the Submissive in a Desmi Dulos [see page 134] or the similar Desmi Dulo-Didoneros [see page 137]).

There is almost no information about the Daman in this Desmi. All that is known is that he or she seems to become invisible to all but the Tyrannos, though there is conflicting information on the matter. One source states that the Daman can occasionally become visible, while another seems to imply that the Daman is not invisible at all but simply chooses to remain hidden. Neither claim has been substantiated, however.



“Well, we know that’s wrong, don’t we,” Harry said cheekily.



The Tyrannos’ sex drive is known to be increased and they seem to be habitually unfaithful to their Daman, having sexual relations with several partners (though it is assumed that their Daman is also a sexual partner). It is believed that the Daman’s position in the Desmi does not allow for them to complain about their partner’s infidelity.



Gabby looked up at Harry with excited eyes. “As if I’d complain,” she said. “Perhaps if you didn’t allow me to join in. . .”

“Never happen, love,” he said and pulled her into a brief hug.



The Tyrannos is said to gain an intuitive knowledge of what their sexual partner desires and that this applies to any partner, not only the Daman. It is unknown exactly how this ability functions, however.



“That explains some things,” Harry said. “Like, with Katie—I knew she didn’t like pain at all, even before you said anything.”

“What about, er,” she stumbled. “I don’t remember her name—the one that liked it rough.”

“Alicia.”

“Yeah, Alicia,” she said. “You were easy on her until, er, the other girl told you to be rough. Why didn’t you know what she wanted?”

“I did,” he said. “I felt an. . . instinctive desire to do what I did to her. Only knowing her as much as I did, I never would have suspected that she would like that kind of thing; off the Quidditch pitch, she’s very gentle and she’s so petite—almost dainty. I thought my instincts were wrong. I guess I should have listened to them. Once I did, I seemed to be able to give her exactly what she wanted.”

“I hope you get to again. It was kind of fun,” she said.

Harry nodded and then Gabby continued reading.



Possibly to aid in his desires to engage in sex with parters outside the Desmi, a male Tyrannos is said to become selectively infertile. That is to say that he is unable to produce offspring unless he makes a conscious choice to do so during copulation. It is unknown whether the same rule applies to a female Tyrannos as there is no information, though it is believed that it does. It is also unknown whether this selective infertility is present in the Daman. It is likely, however, due to the Daman’s function (that of perpetually willing sexual partner), that if the Daman is female that she will be completely infertile, though that is, admittedly, speculation.



Gabby stopped reading as she noticed Harry becoming agitated.

There was a pause where Harry tried to work out exactly what he was thinking. Pregnancy? Infertility? But that was Veela, wasn’t it?

“It’s talking about Veela, right?” Harry asked. “So it would. . . But I’m human. . . I never. . . What if. . . Oh, God!” He found himself on the verge of panic. “Vicky, Katie, Angelina, Alicia! We didn’t. . . I never. . .” His eyes were darting around the room now, nearly expecting enraged parents, or rather possible-soon-to-be-grandparents, to suddenly surround him and demand his head.

“Master,” Gabby soothed. “It’s all right.”

“But I just didn’t think! I should have thought. . . But I didn’t. . . And then we. . .” he rambled on. He was on his feet now, pacing like a caged animal desperate for escape. “And they never. . . But I should have. . .”

“Master,” Gabby repeated, also on her feet, trying her best to get him to calm down and return to his seat. He failed to notice the quirk in her lips as she watched him struggle to contain his rising panic “There’s probably nothing to worry about.”

Something of what she was saying was getting through. “Nothing to. . .” he repeated. Then he seemed to snap into coherence. “What if I got them pregnant?” he said as though it was a certainty.

She tried to cover a giggle with her hand.

He stared at her incredulously. How could she be laughing? This was serious! He’d spent the last few days having unprotected sex with random girls—he could be a father several times over now and she was laughing. His life could be ruined and she thought it was hilarious.

“You think this is funny?” he snapped. She instantly quieted at his tone, her smile slipped quickly off her face.

“Master—” she began gently, but he cut her off.

“Any one of those girls could be pregnant!” he shouted. “Or they all could. Of course you think it’s funny. I’ve been shagging my head of with every girl I see because of this fucking bond!”

No sooner had it left his mouth than he regretted saying it. When he saw the look on Gabby’s face, he nearly died. She looked utterly horrified; her mouth was open in shock, her eyes wide and already glistening with tears and she had recoiled as if she’d been struck.

“Gabby, I—” But she was already running for the door. “Gabby wait!” He managed to catch her before she’d made it out of the room. “I didn’t mean it. I—”

“Don’t lie to me!” she cried. “You wouldn’t have said it if you didn’t mean it.” With surprising strength, she shoved him off of her. He tripped over his own feet in surprise and landed on his backside. He looked up at her, heartbroken by the pain in her eyes—pain he’d caused by speaking without thinking. “I take back everything I said this morning,” she said, the anguish obvious in her voice. She opened the door and without turning back, said, “I wish you’d left me down there.”

Then she was gone.

He scrambled to his feet and rushed for the door. The hall was empty.

“Gabrielle!” he called. He received no answer. He picked a direction and ran, hoping that he could catch her and explain himself—beg forgiveness. He reached the end of the hall but she was still nowhere to be seen. He called for her again with the same result.

He searched desperately for her through every corridor and short-cut and every secret passage he came across; several people staring at him as he ran by like a madman. A few even asked him if there was something wrong. He desperately wished he could ask one of them if they’d seen her, but he knew that would be useless.

Why had he said what he’d said? So what if he’d had sex with those girls without any protection, it certainly wasn’t her fault that he had. And what did it really matter anyway? What’s done is done; he could have just been more careful in future. But even if he had a hundred children by a hundred different girls, it would be OK as long as his Gabby was there with him.

But now she wasn’t. He’d driven her away. He’d never wished that he could take something back more than what he’d said to her.

He tried using the bond to sense where she was, but either he simply couldn’t do it or she didn’t want to be found. Either way, the result was the same.

He eventually returned to the first floor room where his Gabby had disappeared and found the book right where she’d left it. He picked it up and sat down and just held it in his lap, wishing that she would walk back through the door so that he could get down on his knees and beg her never to leave again.

As the minutes ticked by, he couldn’t help the tears spilling over his cheeks. A careless bit of panic and he’d said something so stupid that he’d hurt her, the one person who lived to bring him pleasure. He’d lashed out at her—practically blamed her for bonding him and his problems which he wasn’t even sure existed yet. And really, what did it matter if he got one or even more that one girl pregnant? It was inconsequential next to losing Gabby.

He idly opened the book and looked at the first page, wishing that it could somehow tell him how to find her. What he read though, made him feel queasy.



The Veela Desmi is not to be entered into lightly or without the other party’s permission. The Desmi is the most intimate form of connection between two individuals and cannot be severed outside of death. Initiating a Desmi without the knowledge and consent of the other party is the worst crime a Veela can commit and is considered to be a form of rape. The penalty for being found guilty of initiating a Desmi without a partner’s consent is left to the victim to decide and therefore usually results in death to ensure the termination of the unwanted Desmi.



Was that what was going through Gabby’s mind? Did she think he had rejected her and that he would have her. . .?

Now more desperate than ever to find her, he resumed his search after picking up the letter and slipping it into the book. But as he covered more ground and looked in more classrooms and behind more tapestries without success, the fear that she could become unnoticeable by him the same way that she was unnoticeable by everyone else began to creep along the edges of his brain.

He was miserable. For the first time in his life, he not only didn’t know what to do, but he had absolutely no one to turn to.

He became aware of a dull ache, right behind his breastbone. He felt as though someone where trying to remove his ribcage by simply pulling it out of his chest. So this is what it feels like to hurt someone you love, he thought morosely. He placed his hand where it ached and had a sudden flash of memory from three nights before; he smiled wistfully as he remembered his Gabby had pressed her had on that very spot.

“’Arry,” said Fleur behind him, startling him out of his reverie and his search. He turned. She didn’t look mad; he supposed that she hadn’t seen his Gabby. If she had, she’d be killing him right about now. And he would let her.

“Now is not a good time, Fleur,” he said. Part of him wanted to ask her if she’d seen her sister. But after yesterday, how could he admit that she’d been right about the kind of person he was? But then, who else would her sister go to? He had to ask her. Before he could, she went on.

“’Arry,” she said again. “After yesterday, I was wondering if you could maybe use your ‘pull’ again?”

That brought him up short.

“What?” he asked stupidly.

“I would like you to use your ‘pull’ on me again. I ’ave never felt anyzing like it before. I took almost an hour to recover from what you did.”

This conversation was suddenly making him feel queasy. The aching in his chest increased. She wanted him to pleasure her? She wanted an orgasm high?

He turned to leave; she clearly didn’t know about his Gabby or where she was.

“Please, ’Arry,” she pleaded. “Please. I need zis, ’Arry. I’ll do—”

“Goodbye, Fleur,” he said. “Now is really not a good time. It will never be a good time for that.”

He left Fleur standing there and continued on.

It was nearly half an hour later that he opened a door on the third floor and found Gabrielle sitting at a desk with her head resting on her folded arms.

For a long moment there was no reaction from either of them; Gabby gave no indication that she even knew he was there and Harry was afraid to say anything, because with her just sitting there he could almost pretend that everything was OK. But as the moment stretched on, it began to grow uncomfortable and Harry felt as though she was waiting for him to say something.

He took a deep breath. “I—” He stopped, unsure of himself. Gabby raised her head and looked at him. Her eyes were puffy and red and there were visible tear streaks running down her cheeks. She still looked beautiful to Harry. “I’m sorry.” he said lamely.

She simply kept looking at him as though waiting for him to go on. It was disconcerting.

“I was scared,” he said a bit nervously, setting the book down on a nearby desk. “I realized that I had been doing something stupid and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have done. I know that doesn’t excuse it, but I hope that someday you can forgive me.” He looked at the floor. “Even though I don’t deserve it.”

There was a prolonged silence again. Then, almost so quietly that he thought he’d imagined it, Gabby spoke.

“I’m sorry, too.” He looked up at her to find that she was now the one scrutinizing the floor. “I’ve done something unforgivable.”

“I don’t care,” he said quickly.

“No, Master, you don’t understand,” she said. She took a deep steadying breath and steeled herself. “I’ve done something that will likely result in my death.”

“What?” he said shocked.

Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.

“I told you the Veela consider the Desmi nearly sacred,” she said shakily. “Initiating one with someone who’s unwilling, to them, is worse than rape, it’s a violation of the deepest kind. And I’ve done it to you.”

“But you couldn’t help it,” he said worriedly.

“It doesn’t matter. Our Desmi has been registered so the Veela council will know of it’s existence. If I leave, I have nowhere to go; they will find out what I’ve done and I’ll be brought before them to face the consequences. The Veela council tend to look down on part-Veelas and convict them automatically,” she said, trying hard not to sob. “The choice of punishment is usually left to the victim, but since you’re not Veela, you have no say. The punishment is death.”

Harry was stunned. He’d thought he was going to be so happy, and now this.

“But, you don’t have to leave,” he said. “They have no reason to come here, and if they do we can tell them that I’m happy with the bond, er, Desmi.”

“They would know if you lied,” she said sadly.

“But— No, it wouldn’t be a lie,” he said resolutely. “I do want it. I am happy with it.”

“But what you said,” she pressed, “you meant it. Didn’t you? The truth, Master. Please.”

“I—” He gulped. This was delicate. “At the time I said it, I think part of me did.”

“But you’re suddenly fine with being violated?” she asked doubtfully.

“Yes— I mean no— I mean—” He stopped and took a breath. Damn this was hard.

“You haven’t violated me,” he said carefully. “I may not have been aware of what you did at the time, but I certainly don’t regret it.”

She just looked at him disbelievingly.

“I realized something while I was looking for you,” he said. “I might never have expected you to come into my life, but I can’t live without you now.”

She shook her head. “Master,” she said through her tears, “when I am gone, you will still have the ‘pull’. You won’t go without sex. You needn’t worry.”

“I don’t care about that!” he said fiercely. “I care about you!”

She looked at him now with what he thought was a glimmer of hope.

“You said this morning that you were lucky. I’m the lucky one. I thought my life was pretty good, until you came along and showed me just how empty it truly was. You showed me that I was just existing and then you showed me how to live.”

“But what you said. . .”

“I know,” he said sadly. “I was stupid. I’ll never say it again because I don’t feel that way any more. If I could go back in time, I would erase what I did say.”

She smiled. “Really?”

“Absolutely,” he said. “Of course, if I could go back in time, I’d go back to the morning of the tournament—”

At this, her smile faded, but he continued without so much as a pause.

“—and get down on my knees and beg you to initiate a Desmi.”

She seemed to be studying him intently.

“You mean that, don’t you?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. “I will gladly do anything it takes to keep you in my life.”

She got out of the chair and ran to him, throwing herself into his arms. They held each other for several minutes, simply basking in the feelings they felt from each other.

“I love you, Master,” Gabby said finally.

“I love you, too, my Gabby,” he replied, and she squeezed him tighter. “More than should be possible.”

“I was so scared, Master,” she admitted.

“I know,” he said trying to comfort her. “So was I.”

“I was afraid you were going to reject me without knowing the consequences,” she said, still trembling.

“Never,” he said firmly. “I love you. And they can’t take you away from me. I won’t let them, all right?” She looked up at him and nodded shakily. “You belong to me, remember? If they ever try to come take you, they’ll have to go through me. You’re mine. I won’t let them have you. Not ever.”

She tightened her grip on him and they simply held each other for a while.

Once she stopped trembling and seemed to simply be enjoying the feel of his arms around her he asked, “Are we OK now?”

She nodded.

“You’re feeling better?”

She nodded again, but he noticed a slight hesitation before she did so.

“What can I do to make you feel better?” he asked.

She shook her head. He placed a finger on her chin and gently drew her head up so that she was looking at him.

“Please tell me,” he said. “I don’t care what it is; if it’s possible, I’ll do it.”

He noticed that she was blushing.

“Is it something embarrassing?” he asked kindly.

Her eyes went wide with the realization that she’d been discovered. She looked away and nodded slightly.

“Gabby,” he said, coaxing her head back to look at him again. “You never have to be embarrassed with me. If there’s something I can do for you to make you feel better, please tell me.”

“Master, I—” she began. She stopped and gathered herself. “What you did for me this morning was wonderful. It will be one of my most cherished memories for a long time. But—”

She took a breath. He gently caressed her to try to comfort her.

“After what happened,” she went on slowly. He got the feeling that she was speaking carefully so that he wouldn’t misunderstand. “I think I need to feel like a possession—like you want me to be something you own and use just to please yourself.”

His brow knitted as he tried to figure out what exactly she was asking him.

“How can I do that?” he asked in a tone that said he was willing to do whatever she said. There was a long silence as she searched his eyes for any doubt. He tried to be resolute in his desire to do anything for her.

“Rape me,” she said finally.

He bit his tongue to keep from letting slip his initial, instinctive reaction. Instead, he simply said, “That will help?”

“I think right now I need to feel used and. . . exploited.”

“You’ll let me know if I get too rough?”

She hesitated a bit before saying, “No.”

“What if I hurt you?” he asked, trying not to sound horrified.

“If you’re really willing to do this for me, then you will hurt me,” she said softly. “I will heal.” He gulped but nodded understandingly.

They stood there and stared at each other for several moments.

Gathering his courage, Harry said, “This is the last time I ask. Are you completely sure?” She nodded seriously. “Do you have any doubts at all about this?”

“Absolutely not,” she said, shaking her head for emphasis.

Still he stood there, almost expecting her to change her mind, though he knew she wouldn’t. After nearly half a minute, she seemed to decide that he wasn’t going to do it after all and broke away from him heading for the door. Just as she got there however, it slammed shut as he locked and silenced it. She turned to face him with a question in her eyes.

“Going somewhere?” he asked coldly. He was going to do his best to give her what she wanted. He could already a need to force her—to hurt her—that he knew was coming from the new abilities the bonding gave him. Knowing that those feelings were of what she wanted and that he wasn’t simply becoming a sadistic, uncaring arse made him feel, if not comfortable, then at least better.

He began to advance on her menacingly. She couldn’t seem to stop herself backing away from him with fear in her eyes. He slowly unfastened his robes as he moved, backing her into a corner. She bumped into the wall and looked around to see that she was trapped. She darted to his right and he lunged for her. He managed to grab her upper arm, but she wrenched it out of his grasp. She fled to the opposite side of the teacher’s desk.

“That’s not going to save you, you know,” he said as he finished taking off his robes, letting them drop where they may. Her eyes flicked around the room as though looking for a way out. He began to circle the desk and she moved to keep it between them. With a flick of his wand, and a quiet “protego” a shield extended from one end of the desk to the wall impeding her movement. She bumped into it and quickly ran her hands along it’s surface to see if she could find a way around it. Harry moved so that she was trapped with the desk on one side, the wall on the other and the shield behind her; there was nowhere for her to go.

“What are you running for?” he asked.

She turned to face him, pressing her back against the shield with her feet skidding on the floor as she tried in vain to push the barrier out of her way. He took a step towards her and then another. She glanced at the desk and, apparently deciding that it was her only option, jumped up onto it, scrambling over it’s dusty surface. He rushed forward and managed to seize her left ankle. She kicked back at him, so he dropped his wand and grabbed her right ankle as well. He spread her legs which had the effect of keeping her face down.

“I told you you can’t get away,” he said darkly. She squirmed in his grasp but he was barely able to maintain his hold; she was quite strong. “You asked for this, so now you’re going to get it.”

She grunted a bit as she tried to pull away from him using the far edge of the desk for support.

“Let me go!” she said and tried kicking her legs out of his hands but found he was holding her too tightly.

He jerked her legs around so that she was suddenly flipped on her back. She was startled by the action and he used the brief moment that she wasn’t struggling to get a firm hold on her right leg, which he hauled back and jerked so that she was, in effect, whipped around, sliding off the end of the desk and landing in a heap on the floor with another grunt.

In an instant he was on her forcibly holding her down even as she struggled to get away. He noticed that she wasn’t trying to fight him at all, she merely tried to escape and a new understanding hit him: what she really wanted was sex that she had no control over. His confidence built as, now that he had captured her and was forcibly restraining her, he was beginning to feel pleasure trickling over the bond.

He manoeuvred himself between her legs, sitting on her feet and pinning her arms above her head. He took one of her nipples in his free hand and pinched as hard as he could. She screamed in pain and glared at him but he felt a flood of arousal and pleasure from the bond; this was exactly what she wanted. He pulled up, distending the flesh of her chest as he went and she cried out and lifted herself up as much as she could to lessen the pain. He quickly let go and slapped her hard enough to toss her head to the side. She looked back up at him angrily with a trickle of blood dripping from her split lip.

“You’d better learn to just lie there and enjoy this,” he growled, though, he could tell from the bond that she actually was enjoying it. He slid his free hand harshly down her nude form. “You walk around naked all the time and think you can get away with it?”

He found her cunt; it was hot with her arousal, but he found it surprisingly quite dry—he could only assume that she could control how much fluid she produced and wanted this to be as realistic as possible. Without any warning at all, he shoved two fingers as deep as he could get them. She recoiled in pain and attempted to draw away from his invading fingers as he began fucking them into her.

“You like this, don’t you, slut?” he asked. She whimpered and shook her head. He pulled his hand out of her pussy, grabbed a handful of her hair and turned her head to face him. “Answer me!” he shouted.

She struggled a bit but finally said, “No.” He slapped her again, the side of her face was still red from the last time. Then he shoved his fingers back into her and started fucking her with them again.

“Liar,” he said. “You love this, I can tell.” She glared at him again. He pulled his thrusting fingers from her still-dry sex and pulled his boxers down to his knees, freeing his cock. He spat on his fingers and rubbed them around her entrance, trying to lubricate her a bit; he didn’t want this to hurt either of them.

After a few more applications of spit, he placed himself at the opening to her cunt and shoved hard. He hadn’t lubed her enough, apparently, she was still a bit dry on the inside. She screamed, fresh tears spilling from her eyes but he could still sense that this is just what she wanted.

She felt tighter than she ever had before and wondered if it was because of the lack of moisture. He gritted his teeth and began thrusting into her tight, dry pussy, with her whimpering and grunting on nearly every stroke.

After a few seconds of his pounding into her, he began to feel some lubrication, she was still tighter than normal, but she was now wet. She pulled her head up and looked down at the point where their bodies joined with a slight look of surprise on her face. After looking a moment, she lowered her head, appearing satisfied for a moment before going back to her whimpering.

She lay there, still held down, unable to move her arms or feet as he thrust viciously into her. Harry, despite the violent nature of their fucking and knowing it was all a very realistic game, was starting to build toward his orgasm. His approaching release was aided by the feelings of bliss filtering through the bond and his instinctive desire to force and hurt her provided him by his new abilities that assured him that he was doing exactly what she wanted.

He stopped thrusting and, without releasing her hands, got to his feet, lifting her up as well. As they stood, he looked down and saw exactly why she had suddenly become slick—she was bleeding. Not heavily, but certainly enough to make him concerned. He caught her attention and asked with his eyes if she was all right. There was a flicker of acknowledgement and acceptance before returning to her look of defiance but it was enough to assure him that she not only knew about it but was fine with it.

He forced her over to the dusty teacher’s desk and bent her over, held her down, spread her legs and thrust back into her overly tight and abused pussy from behind. She cried out again as he slammed back into her and continued to vocalize her pain as he rhythmically knocked her legs into the side of the desk with each thrust.

The sensations of her cunt around his cock and the feelings of pleasure building in the bond was driving him to the edge. He was surprised that he could find anything sexy about what he was doing to her but he did. Perhaps it was the knowledge that she desperately wanted it, or perhaps it was the forbidden nature of the act they were faking or perhaps the novelty of such a unique experience normally so far out of his character. Whatever it was, it didn’t really matter.

“Oh, God,” he said. “I’m going to fill you so full that you’re going to be dripping for days.”

“No!” she cried. She shook her head and tried struggling against him again but he simply quickened his pace.

He was closer now, the pressure building in his balls. She continued shaking her head as though that would keep him from climaxing inside her.

“Tell me you want me to come inside you,” he commanded.

“No,” she said. He grabbed one of her flailing arms and twisted it behind her back.

“Say it,” he demanded.

She moaned in pain. He forced the arm higher.

“Say it,” he repeated.

“Ow!” she cried.

His movements became more merciless, managing to shift the heavy desk by slamming her lower half into it as he thrust forcefully into her. He pushed the arm even higher. She screamed.

“Puh—lease,” she stuttered as he drove into her again and again. “C—ome—in—muh—ee.”

He jerked the arm and she cried out.

“Beg me to fill your little slut pussy.”

“Ple—ease,” she whimpered and cried as he pounded. “Fill—ll—my—pus—sy. Pl—ease. ”

The feelings coming through the bond were heavenly and having her beg him to come was just to much for him. He grunted and orgasmed, spraying her channel with thick ropes of his seed. He thrust a few more times as his climax eased, then he pulled himself out of her and collapsed on the floor.

Now that the act was over, the feelings welling up inside him were primarily disgust and self-loathing. He stared in numb shock at the blood on his wilting cock. How could he have done such a thing? She hadn’t even orgasmed and she’d never failed to orgasm with any sexual contact. Was he some kind of monster now?

He felt two arms sliding around him; he hadn’t even noticed her getting up off the desk. Before he could pull away from her, she kissed him on the cheek and said, “Thank you, Master. That was perfect.”

He turned to look at her and saw drying blood coating her inner thighs before looking away in shame. “I hurt you,” he said simply.

“Yes,” she said. “And it was exactly what I wanted you to do. You used me.”

“You really liked that? You didn’t. . .” he couldn’t bring himself to point out that she hadn’t— finished.

She giggled a bit. The sound did much to heal his frayed nerves and his self doubt. “You have no idea how hard it was to keep myself from coming, Master,” she said. “In fact—” She took his right hand and placed it on her sex. “—now that it’s over, I really need to orgasm. Please?”

He was flushed with sudden understanding. She really had wanted to be hurt, and the only reason that it all now seemed too real to him was because she’d done everything in her power to make it real to her. He looked into her eyes, still half expecting to see pain and hatred. Instead, he only saw love and a new, deeper trust than he’d ever seen in her eyes before.

He stroked experimentally, afraid that she’d be too sore, but she closed her eyes and moaned blissfully. He instinctively increased his pressure and speed, until he was frantically rubbing her cunt. He scraped across her clit and she came convulsively, clamping her legs around his hand and spraying his hand with her pent-up fluids. He slowed his stroking, but she cried out, “No! Don’t stop! Harder! Faster!”

He did as she commanded. As she was coming down off of her first orgasm, she came again, more of her juices coating his hand, and dripping down on the floor. Still he kept up his stroking and she came again. And again.

After a chain of seven massive orgasms, she finally grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away from her cleft. She eventually pulled him into an embrace which he returned and they clung to each other for several minutes while her breathing slowed.

“Thank you, Master,” she said finally into his chest. “I know that was difficult for you. I can’t thank you enough for doing that for me. I love you.”

“I love you, Gabby. My Gabby,” he said.

“Don’t worry, Master,” she said. “I won’t ask you to do that often. But I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to know that you’re willing to do that for me.”

“Anything for my girl,” he said.

He looked down at the blood still coating her legs and mound.

“Are you all right?” he asked, scared of the answer.

She dipped her head. “Not yet,” she said. “I made myself as small inside as an eight-year-old human girl and you weren’t gentle. I think you tore me open a bit.”

He looked horrified again.

“Don’t worry, Master,” she said. “Remember, Veela are sexual creatures. We heal faster than humans to help maintain our sex appeal. And the Desmi we share will likely make me heal faster. Though, I might be sore for the rest of the day, so you’ll have to find someone else to fuck tonight.” She smirked at him.

He looked at her with a shocked expression that she would suggest such a thing after all that had happened that day. But the look of sheer innocence on her face as she said it caused him to laugh.

“I think I need to learn a contraceptive charm before that,” he said when he’d recovered.

“Or we could find out if you’re infertile,” she said. He looked at her questioningly. “That’s what I was trying to tell you before you. . .”

“Went mad?” he offered.

She tightened her hold to show that it was all right.

“If this Desmi causes male Veela to be selectively infertile, then it’s likely you are to. We just have to find out,” she said.

He looked at her sheepishly. “I should listen to you more often,” he said.





Well, there you have chapter 5. The rape bit wasn’t originally planned but ended up being an interesting detour. The story as I’ve planned it will be back on track as of chapter 6 (which I hope is coming soon).