FicWad

Disclaimer.
Nope. This week, I actually do own Harry Potter and all that goes with him. He can do my dishes. No demons were harmed during the writing of this chapter, and to quote one of my favourite Disclaimers; Warning! Contains matter. Do not bring into contact with antimatter.
Warning! Featuring Meanie Harry.




I wish you were not quite so deaf--







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The fire spread across her skin, and she watched it in horror at first. The bloody geezer had set her on fire! It burned her, consumed her clothes and caught her hair. From her hair, it seemed to inflame her brain, because it was suddenly ablaze with homicidal fury.

It actually felt quite nice!

She looked at the smug Death Eater, pointed at him and Hated. His clothes promptly burst into flames, but apparently he didn't like it as much as she did, judging by the bubbling scream he polluted the air with as his face melted in the intense heat suddenly surrounding his body. She smiled and turned to face the other attackers, walking slowly towards them while absently deflecting the stray incoming curses with some kind of silvery shield. She felt the remaining Wards tickle her as she left their reach and started her fiery counter-attack. Vaguely remembering that love conquers all, she grabbed the nearest, paralysed attacker and hugged him. She held the larger man in her unyielding arms as his clothes caught fire and the air started to stink of burned flesh. She didn't release him until his ribs were well and truly grilled, his skin was black, and his eyes were empty, smoking holes.

One bright attacker aimed a water jet towards her, and the resulting rolling clouds of fog blanketed the area in seconds, and the only thing that could be clearly seen through it was the bright orange flame that used to be a little girl called Ginny. She squinted at the fog. There were others in there, others who needed to burn. Suddenly, the fog seemed to clear for her, and she could see multi-coloured shapes where she suspected the people to be, and she began to hunt. The shapes ran into each other trying to get away from her, and she laughed as she caught them one by one. She noticed the arrival of almost a hundred more shapes but something told her that they were friendly, so she chose not to Hate them. As her burning foot seared its way through the last ribcage, a mighty gust of wind dispelled the fog, and Ginny's vision returned to normal, as did her temper. She looked at the assembled ranks of Einharjers, Legionnaires, and Huldr, smiled, and waved. She heard her brother still chuckling behind her, and turned to look at him. He was sitting on the ground, closing a wound on his calf and laughing.

“Ginny, you're quite a sight, you know. Thankfully, you don't have the serpent quality of our foremother, but you're still the hottest babe in Britain, I'd bet. Try to put out the flames if you can. Think wet thoughts or something.”

For a second, she thought that her brother had gone completely chocolate cauldron, but then she looked down on herself and she had to admit that she did look hot. Positively smoking, in fact. Red flames crossed her skin in random waves, rippling over her in patterns that formed and dissolved instantly. Somewhat inconsequently, she realised that she was stark naked in front of a hundred people, and arranged the flames to form a kind of swimsuit of fire that at least obscured her salient points. She had no idea how she did it, but she let the flames die down excepting the fiery one-piece and her hair that persisted in flickering and flaming in the gentle breeze. There was a creaking sound behind her. She turned to the Burrow and her mother, who had just opened the door.

“Gi ... Ginny? Is that really you?”

“Yes Mum. This appears to be the real me, and it's what I've always been. I like it.”

“I ... see. Do you know what you are? I've never seen anything like it ... you ... Oh, you know what I mean.” The matronly woman was shocked and flustered, but she smiled at the crowd as they sniggered a bit at her consternation.

“I don't have a clue. Ron? You know things, don't you?”

“Why yes, I do, sister dear. Mount Everest is bloody high. I know many other things as well. Was there something special?”

“Git. What am I?”

“You're, well, all Weasleys are, part Efreet. It's some kind of desert fire spirit, of the Djinnih family. Fiery, vindictive, and some can fulfil wishes. I'd guess our fore-mother had something of a knack for fertility. It's tied to something called a chromylome or something like that, meaning that only girls can get the whole package, because half of blokes' chromylomes are the wrong kind. We're Hetero-gay-mates, I think it was, and all girls are Homo's. I guess you can tell that I didn't really get it.”

“But pumpkin, if you're Homo, how can you be pregnant?”

At this, Johann Schweitzer, the Legionnaire medic, stepped forward.

“Lady Weasley, Homogametic means that both the gender chromosomes are the same kind. That's basically how your bodies know that you're female. It's quite complicated, but it's basic knowledge for Muggle healers. Why don't you all come with us back to the Castle and I'll tell you all about it when I can hold a proper lecture. Rooms are ready.”

The clipped, but friendly words of the German wizard seemed to set the almost pathologically maternal woman at ease, but it was the stocky Einharjer who won her over, as Björn filled in.

“You might wish to leave here for a few hours anyway. There's a lot of left-over barbecue here that needs to be cleared away, and we really should get your eldest here so he can put some proper Wards up, ones with teeth. Lord Potter will, of course, wish for all his children to know the closest thing he has to a real family, so the place needs to be safe.”

That cemented the whole thing as far as Molly was concerned. Her daughter's pregnancy was a more or less horrible thing, but the prospect of Grandchildren? Pure gold. The notion that Harry, the dear boy, would consider her a grandmother to all his children almost bowled her over, seeing as she knew that he would have loads of them. Well, she would certainly show the world who the world's greatest Granny was! In less than a minute, she had an overnight bag in her hand and a note for her husband on the table. Another minute later, Ron and Ginny were alone at the Burrow.

Ron stood up, carefully testing his leg and smiling when it seemed to work. He turned to his still flickering baby sister in the flaming one-piece fire suit.

“Bloody hell, Ginny, you really showed those bastards. You okay?”

Ginny stopped and thought about it. It wasn't as simple a question as it sounded.

“Yes, I am. It's sort of funny, really. I just killed some people and I know I should be all angsty, but I just can't feel sorry for them. It's not that they attacked me or you or the Burrow, but if I die, my Master would be upset and I can't allow that.”

Ron grinned, in a slightly disturbed way.

“It would be against his Wishes, I'd bet. You really are the dream girlfriend, aren't you?”

“I'll be the ideal mother of his children, anyway. I'll better get back. You want to come? I'm sure Harry wouldn't mind.”

He waved her off.

“Nah, I'm good. I have a ship to finish. Once it's ready, I'd like to come visit you, if I may?”

“Sure. I'll tell Stina to expect a ship in her Loch sometime.”

“Thanks, Sis. Now, get back home and just be pregnant. You're still burning, you know that?”

“Damn. I'll figure it out, I guess. At least it's not my whole body anymore. See you around, big brother.”

“See you, Sis.”

As the Arch carried her away, Ron returned to his work. Some more grappling guns and cannons might just be a good idea. He winced as something smarted in his repaired leg, and reminded himself to ask Mr Brown for some kind of automatic Healing equipment. He also added bedding Ms Blue to his mental checklist. He may not be quite as insane as he thought, but he had a lot of fun with it.


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Harry trusted the people who called himself His people, and he still trusted the people in the Order to have made the Burrow safe, but it didn't sit well with him to have a Bonded under attack and just stay in school. His communicator had already told him that the battle was over, that Ginny had fought off the entire thing before the back-up arrived, and that his Bonded was a very hot girl.

He didn't really understand why the last part had been added.

He knew she was, but he would no doubt learn what it was all about eventually.

Right now, he was actually supposed to be a bit more concerned about the magical polarity of Jupiter, and the lance of magical energy that apparently shot out from the red spot. Well, he was supposed to be quiet as well. Madam Pince had been glaring at him a few times already just because of the girls who kept staring at him and giggling too loud. It wasn't his fault!

The only thing he could really do about the situation at the Burrow was to bump up the destruction of Riddle and his supporters a few places on his timetable. He'd have to talk to Neville about that. Well, that would probably have to happen a little later, seeing as his girls had broken the Longbottom's out of the long term ward at St. Mungo's. As the healers had voiced some rather unattractive opinions of the abilities of 'domestic animals', the girls had simply grabbed the debilitated couple and Arched out. Stina had actually prepared a speech for him to use if someone complained about it. Having a Bonded with a mind like the biggest notebook in existence did have its perks.

“Eh, Harry? I'm sure the Professor can read it, but it's customary to use English in your essays, except of course in Ancient Runes, and even there, the usual format for the text is the normal alphabet unless the essay is supposed to highlight the expressive forms of various other written languages. In case you can't tell, you're writing in Norse, using the modern Runes that aren't even taught here.”

“Thanks Hermione. I'm a bit distracted right now, and I actually didn't notice. Have you heard anything from the grapevine?”

“No, not really. There are some rumours about the whole Armies of Magic, that's the new popular name for your troops, launching an attack somewhere. I've not tried very hard to squash those rumours, but I've indicated that it was just a small expeditionary force moving out on a drill or something. There's nothing solid going on there. What's really happening?”

“Someone tried to take out Ginny and her family. Those we care about are safe, those we don't care about are dead. That's pretty much all I know.”

“What about the other Bonded?”

“They're all safe and home. There's a bit of a project going on, and they're all calm concerning Ginny. You wouldn't believe the rage they went into during the attack, until Stina and my own mental guardian more or less shut me out of the proceedings. Apparently, I need to learn to trust the people close to me to be able to do their jobs without me hanging over their shoulders.” He stretched and groaned a bit. “Have you seen Daphne or Pet Tracey around? I need to relax, I think.”

He knew that it was a fairly mean thing to do as he heard her breath hitch a bit, and he smiled to himself as he almost could hear her nipples contract. She answered slowly.

“No, not for a while. If you don't mind waiting an hour or two, I guess I could find them, but there might be other ways to work off some tension closer at hand.” Her voice was a low purr, and her offer couldn't be more obvious if she had painted a sign in six languages --- with moving illustrations. It fit rather well into his hastily concocted plan, so he rose from the chair and summoned a bunch of old and rare tomes to his study-table and discreetly put some powerful but specific attention-repelling charms over the immediate area. He also made sure that she didn't notice them at all before he grabbed her and laid her down on her back on top of the books.

“Don't worry about the books. They're Indestructible for the moment.” He whispered to the brown-haired witch with the glazed eyes. Her breathing was heavy as he Switched her clothes off her body, making them fly through the air but keeping them inside the warded space. He saw her looking around through the shelves of the library, looking for people who could see them, and as he noticed her disappointment at the lack of such, he crafted a couple of illusions, making it sound like there was someone just on the other side of the nearest shelf and making illusory people walk by, just out of sight. As the almost orgasming witch was naked in front of him, he started to untie his trousers slowly. He felt more than a little silly doing it, but her eyes, fully dilated, dark with passion and desire made it worth it. As he penetrated her, unobtrusively morphed down as she didn't have her potion, she arched her back, trying desperately to orgasm as quietly as possible and failing quite a bit. As Harry drove into her again and again, slowly but steadily, Hermione was forced from peak to peak but Harry just kept going. He was distracting himself by crafting illusions of unidentifiable people stopping by and staring at the couple coupling in the library. He was rather proud of his image of Madam Pince, but Hermione had had her eyes closed just then and missed the whole thing. It was better than perfect, though, when Professor Sinistra --- the real one --- came by. That was one of the specific parts of the wards he had used. The Head of Slytherin House was made aware of the nature and reason for the wards, and encouraged to partake somewhat, and she was.

“Please, Mr. Potter, tell me what this is supposed to mean?”

He his his smile as he felt Hermione tense up at the obvious presence of a Professor. He also felt her getting even wetter as he turned his head to look into the merrily dancing eyes of the Astronomy Professor.

“I believe it's an exercise in Field Dynamics, Professor,” he deadpanned as the professor looked at his attempts at an essay.

“I see. You postulate that Jupiter ejects it's vital energy through the spot to relieve internal pressure?”

“There are many similar instances in the universe, don't you agree, Professor?”

“There are, but rarely to such an impressive extent. The sheer size of the ejecting mechanism must be most impressive. What do you think, Miss Granger?” The professor turned to the naked, sweaty, and thoroughly impaled girl on the table without letting on that anything was out of the ordinary. Hermione tried her best to answer in kind, but Harry chose that moment to turn her on her side, making sure he hit her spot with every stroke, and letting his Fire touch her gently at the same time.

“I'd agree ... that the ej ... ejecting device is ... the greatest of it's ... kind in the ... solar system.”

Harry couldn't contain his slight snort at the perfect double entendre, and he could tell that the Professor was impressed as well, and also that she was getting turned on at a brisk pace. The absurd situation, and the smells from both women were coming close to overpowering him, but he did feel that his task was done. He decided to relax and just go with the flow. Once he let his control go, he began building inside Hermione's wetness at an almost alarming rate, something that the Professor picked up on.

“I see. You're as usual most knowledgeable of such matters, Miss Granger. Would you agree that harvesting the ejected mass would be beneficial?” The adult woman asked with interest as she smirked a bit at Harry and licked her lips.

“Oh, very much ... so. ... Undoubtedly ... beneficial. Needs testing.” Hermione smiled too, as the professor quickly bent down over the schoolgirl and dislodged the pulsing member from her opening, popping it into her mouth. As the talented and skilled woman showed the young man the value of experience, Hermione rolled off the table, and as Harry unloaded into Professor Sinistra's eager mouth, Hermione was right there, catching the overflow. As the spent young man sank down on the chair again, the girl and the woman met in a nice sharing kiss before the Professor stood and straightened her robes and left without a word. Harry raised his hand and let his Magic flow, returning the books and clearing the air, removing all traces of the proceedings from the area before taking the wards down.

“Harry?”

“Yes, Mia?”

“That was brilliant. Thank Tonks or Stina for me, will you? Which one was it, by the way?”

“Tonks is guarding Percy today, and Stina is busy in the Loch. She has a very difficult project right now.”

“But ... Who was ... You're not saying ... ?”

“That, my dear Hermione, was Professor Aurora Sinistra. The very same professor who taught us all about conjunctions between Jupiter and Uranus since our first year here. The real professor. You kissed her.”

He silenced the area quickly. If Hermione were banned from the library for having a howling, instant orgasm, she would be heartbroken. But it was fun.


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“Please tell me you're not joking?”

“Oh, come on, Nev. You know me better than that. We're born hours apart, I trust you more than any other man in the world, you're the closest thing I have to a brother, and you can have your parents back. I need you, mate. I'd be lost in the dark without you, but Stina thought she could Heal your parents, so once we were sure they wouldn't be hurt by it, the girls busted them out of the hospital and got them into the Loch. The process went perfectly, and I've set them up in a house in Micronesia --- I've forgotten the name of the island --- and made an Arch connection. You're still the Lord, though. Once the title is lost, there's no going back, I'm told. Anyway, why don't you go see your folks? If you bring your Gran, do remind her to dress cooler, though.”

Neville, Lord Longbottom, looked like someone had slapped him with a freshly caught trout, and as he turned and left, he missed the door and banged his shoulder, but he didn't really notice. A new chapter was being written in the Book of Longbottom. He wondered absently how it would end.


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Dear Master Fafnersson.

I hope this letter finds you in good health, and far away from us.

My name is Chon'z, and I represent the Council of Ebon Shades. The council was formed by beings of Darkness, but not malevolence, as a way for us to support each other in the struggle for survival that spells denying our natures.

Much like your lovely and delightful Huldr, we are what we are, and what we are, are predators with humans for prey. Unfortunately, our feeding and hunting is far less pleasant than theirs, as I believe you have experienced personally, something I deeply regret, as I confess to being there myself. I also apologise for the state of this letter. Stationary is very hard to come by for us, and owls will not come near us, which yet again proves their intelligence. As we are incapable of verbal speech, and our dexterity leaves much to be desired, communication of any kind is very difficult.

On behalf of the Council, I wish to thank you for your successful treatment of the Ministerial slime mold infestation called Fudge. His replacement is far superior, and we do know good Bones when we see them. Unfortunately, we are forbidden from contacting any ministry representatives by the terms of our employment, but that also prevents us from raising the point to the ministry regarding their breach of said contracts.

We are starving to death.

As Emotivores, we need a constant supply of powerful emotions to survive, but with the breakouts and shielding of prisoners that has been happening lately, we are a diminishing breed. Almost a fifth of our numbers have already starved to death, and the majority was recently all in favour of joining the Dark Lord, just to get nourished. Today, however, You, Sir, are a far superior alternative for allegiance. We no longer have any interest in maintaining our ties to the Ministry for Magic, and we humbly ask for your acceptance and assistance in procuring a safe, alternative food source. The Council promises its full support, both in the political arena and as foot soldiers in a possible armed conflict. We realise your forces might be somewhat reluctant to go to battle at our side, but we have very little pride in such respects and are willing to back down. However, like the Huldr, we do have perfect control of our Darker side if only we're being fed. An escorted walk through a Muggle town should do nicely, as no one person will be near us long enough to suffer the effects of our presence, but the emotive concentration would be high enough for us to thoroughly gorge ourselves.

We do not only promise the support of my kind, of course. The Ghouls will assist you, as will the Beachcombers, the Kelpies, and the Banshees. The assorted Spectrals, primarily the Umbers but others as well are firmly on your side already, but we do ask for the favour of assistance in return. This will not tax your resources overmuch, we believe, and we do have enough gold to compensate any accidental victim, although anything like the Sanguinarias will likely never happen. An emissary of a different species is ready to negotiate for us. She has our trust, and while she may not be able to fully suppress her natural weapons against humans, we expect them to be a negligible threat to someone of your stature. Rest assured, she mean you no harm.

It has been suggested to me that we should just give you the bare facts, and leave the decision to you, and so I shall.

Your servant,

Chon'z
Elder of Azkaban
The Dementor's Lair



Harry read the letter again. It was written on a kind of parchment he really didn't want to know the origins of, and the brownish ink was all too easy to identify. The buzzard that delivered it to him had also been a strong clue that something very odd, even for him, was going on. He summed his thoughts up, eloquently and masterly.

“Wha ...?”


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“Oh, just SHUT UP! I don't care who ate who's grandpa, or whatever indigestion he caused. We're all in Otherton now, and that's supposed to mean something. Personally, I don't care about your colour, shape or body hair, but I recognise childish tantrums anywhere, and I can see that fools are fools, no matter what species they are born to. Now, you all know what happened. I know the Lord, and he would never ask us for help, but he has made the point to me that our businesses and success is power, and I move that we use that power to help him. Is there any one against that?”

It was easy to dismiss Lavender Brown. The makeshift Commerce council of Otherton would never make that mistake again. Istvan, the gaunt Siberian Giant who just had a little girl standing on his knees and shouting in his face would never forget the amount of threat her eyes had conveyed. He had to admit that his life had improved greatly since he and his clan started their quarrying and construction company. Rock'n'roll Building employed Giants from all over the world, and they got along just fine, with the smaller, smarter one doing the planning and fine work, and the larger, less bright doing the large scale stuff. The Bolivian Government were employing them to put the Orichalcum mines back in business, and that made the money roll into their vaults. The Vampires, represented by the frail-looking Lady Lacrimosa, who chose her name when she was much too impressed by her own coolness, had to admit that the little girl had chilled her blood. Her own company, Street Light Modelling Agency, made good money as well, even though they mostly dealt with Muggles. Otherton was a very relaxing place to live. It was nice to have a crypt to call home.

These sentiments were echoed in the heads of all the present representatives, and they all seemed rather shocked at just how many they were. None would be against the most energetic Miss Brown.

Istvan spoke up.

“I say we help little Lord. I not know how, but you tell me what to do, and Rock'n'roll will do.”

“We at Anywere are right with you, too.”

And the list went on, until only Gringott's had held back slightly, as they couldn't provide much more than passive assistance to the other companies, and already were involved in several Monitoring enterprises regarding the remaining Dark elements. However, Goblins knew how to use money creatively, and proved it as strategies were laid out to put the Dark-dominated businesses out of said. The meeting continued to arrange a kind of National Guard, complete with Minutemen and rotating Rapid Response teams. As the meeting drew to close, Lady Lacrimosa spoke.

“The Lord is our Lord and rallying point, but this city is really a city in it's own right and we need a community leader. I move for making Lavender Brown the first mayor of Otherton.”

Before she even had closed her mouth from the initial shock, the girl who had resigned herself to staying a nobody with great boobs found herself a part-time Mayor of the oddest town on Earth.


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Ginny was not having a very good day. The flames just refused to go out. She had searched inside herself and found some things, some abilities she hadn't really noticed before, and some of them affected the fire. She could alter the colour, she could alter the temperature, but she couldn't make it go away. Once, when she really concentrated, she had turned into some kind of burning snake-like thing that hovered, and it could possibly have flown, too, if she hadn't slammed into a wall at the first opportunity. She had made good use of the Bond, learning the mechanisms involved in the Animagus transfiguration and some of the self-adapting tricks employed by the Lake Wardens, but it didn't help her bring the flames down. The best she had been able to do was to leave the fire free in her hair, and bring the temperature down to just a bit over room temperature. This enabled her to wear clothes, but her flickering hair was a real nuisance. What really shocked her, and apparently her mother as well, was the Press. They had a little tent village right outside the Castle, and Ginny hadn't even known there were so many Wizarding papers. As she had Arched to a spot a few hundred meters from Kilchurn Castle just because she loved the view, she would have been completely bogged down if a guard of Legionnaires hadn't showed up. The stinking smoke of the Wizarding Timeflashes was thick in the air, and questions were hurled at her from several dozen directions at once, and in at least four languages.

“Miss Weasley, were you hurt?”

“Mrs Potter, how many did you kill?”

“Ginny, look this way!”

“Miss Weasley, Holzman, Well-Spelled News, how long have you been non-human?”

The last one cracked her up. She decided to stop for a second.

“How long? How long do you think?” she asked with a smile. “Somewhere in my ancestry, there's a non-human female. No one knew about this, as the traits are inherited on the Distaff side only, and I'm the first Weasley daughter in generations. It didn't manifest until a Death Dietist tried to set me on fire. He managed it to a thousand percent, don't you think?”

“Mrs Potter, Tati, Le Monde Magie, Did you really kill someone in the attack against your Family home?”

“I did. Please understand that whatever we may look like, none of the Ladies of Kilchurn are harmless. Harry would never, ever go for just a pretty face. He wants steel and commitment, and if any one of us is attacked, the steel comes into play. Don't get me wrong, We'd love to be relaxed and pampered all day long, but that's not all we are. We're quite capable to deal with a threat, and back-up is always near. Next?

“Miss Weasley, Cara, Teen Witch Weekly, Is it true that there's a Playsentient Calendar in the works, and that you'll be in it?”

“What? No, I really don't think so, but I'll ask. It sounds like fun.”

Ginny did notice that her mind seemed to work much faster, and she could spot some fairly insidious traps ahead of time, and deflect them with ease. She stayed with the slavering horde for almost an hour before excusing herself. The crowd she left behind was a furiously scribbling one as well as a thoroughly charmed one. Finally, the collective mind of the reporters thought, Magical Britain had its own Royal Family. Life was good.


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Neville, Lord Longbottom, Hero of the Battle in the Department of Mysteries, political strategist, coup-maker, and international man of many talents was scared. The enormity of it hadn't really sunk in yet. He had parents again. They were real again. Frank and Alice. Mum and Dad.

“Neville? Is that you?” The woman on the sun bed didn't really look like the deranged person he had visited so many times. She looked younger and much healthier, and if she hadn't been his mother, he would have found her fairly hot as well. He walked up to the sun bed on the porch of the bungalow.

“Mum? I can't believe it ... ”

“Come here, my son. It seems you're very good at choosing friends. I'm still coming to terms with how much time has passed, and you're no doubt used to being alone with Augusta. This will be an interesting time, these next few months.”

“I guess. I have a very important job, but you're more important. Whenever you need me, I'll be there, and I'll come pestering you when I need it, too. Harry said that this house is yours for as long as you need it, and England is just an Arch away. Mind the time difference, though.”

“Was Augusta right? You're one of the main movers in the Wizengamot, one of the few who rules the country? And what's all this about you having a Fiancé and a slave girl? Everything is so confusing.”

“Where's Dad? I think you both needs to hear the long, complicated, bizarre and hilarious story of one Harry Potter. It won't clear anything up, but at least you'll know more than most of what's happening.”

“He's on the Floo, looking for work. This can't be cheap, and we won't be able to afford it for ...”

“Mum? This place is owned by the richest man in Britain, the true heir of Merlin and about three books worth of other titles that he doesn't care about. The House of Longbottom is a Vassal house to the House of Kilchurn, and he does take care of his vassals. Didn't Gran tell you?”

“I thought she didn't want to worry us. Are you saying it's true? Little Harry is more or less the Magical King of Britain?”

“Pretty much. Not to brag, eh, oh yes, just to brag, that makes me like the prime minister. I guess you'll meet his Ladies before you meet him, though. Ah, this is all in the wrong order. Okay, let's start. It was on my first train ride to school ... ”


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Harry had given up. It was almost midnight, and he was wrung out. He hadn't even seen Ginny yet. He had been assured that she was just fine, and he had been so busy. She was his Bonded, possibly the mother of his child and he hadn't even been able to visit her the day she had been attacked, had killed, and had changed. His body now ached for his high-backed chair, some mead and a peaceful cuddle. There was so much happening all the time, and he had had some tugs on his magic that he believed to be Luna doing something. He kept up with his homework thanks to Gabrielle and the others studying for him and dumping the knowledge into his brain and Neville's absence was highly understandable, but there were so many decisions to make over so many things that Harry felt like a complete failure on the management side. He stumbled up from the Arch chamber and crashed into his chair with an incredible lack of grace. He forced himself to relax in the dark room, watching the glowing embers on the hearth when he heard light footfalls behind him, and he detected two slim figures approaching. He also noticed that the walls had begun to flicker lightly. Gabrielle slid out of her light silk gown and sat down gracefully in his lap and began kissing his jaw lightly as Ginny stopped in front of him. She was already naked, and the glow from her softly burning hair bathed them all in gentle, reddish light. The only sounds in the room were the light crackling sound from the fading embers in the fireplace, and the light sound of Gabrielle's kisses. Ginny looked amazing. She smiled at him, and burned a little brighter as she began posing for him. He already knew how agile she was, but her ability to bend forward, put her hands on the floor, make a handstand and flip over to a standing position again without moving more than two feet forward was astonishing, and looked quite impossible. She proceeded to bend backwards, until she was actually reaching forward between her legs and putting her palms on the floor again, and in a fluid movement she landed on her hands and knees, slowly crawling towards him. The burning girl undid his trousers, pulled them off of him, and Gabrielle sank down on him. With one girl squeezing his member inside her in a gentle rhythm and another caressing his balls while they both were kissing him, Harry really relaxed. Gabrielle didn't ride him, she just used her fantastic Veela muscles to give him an internal wanking. As he drew close after almost twenty minutes, Gabrielle rose a bit, and Ginny took him inside her with a twisting motion that sent him over the edge. As he had had time to build, he came quite a lot, but she kept every drop inside of her as both girls snuggled into him.

“Harry?”

“Yes, Ginny?”

“If you make one crack, just one, about how hot I'm looking, or anything related to a redhead joke, I will hurt you.”

“I look forward to you trying. There's just no way I can leave it alone.”

“Damn. I had to try.”

“I know.”

“Honey, I'm a burning snake. Is that a problem?”

“I don't know. I'm opening negotiations with the Dementors. Being in love with a burning snake is par for the course, I guess.”

“That's a very strange course.”

“Indeed.”


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Two hours later, he was back in school. He had even been able to pull a bit of Stina's ability with words to lace his astronomy essay with more double entendres than a sleazy romance novel. Now though, he was hammering away at some long steel bands. One of the funnier things in magical metalwork was the possibility to forge Shrunken things. The Astrolabium he was working on would be almost two hundred yards across when it was re-enlarged, and thanks to some hints from Surt, he had been able to cast Disillusionment charms into some of the beams as well as the normal Motion enchantments. Right now though, he was doing the boring parts while his brain was busy dealing with the letter he had received at dinner. Polite Dementors! Ebon Shades. An emissary. Especially, an emissary who would be coming here in just little while. Neville was unavailable, of course, and he wasn't about to risk anyone else before he knew more about the situation.
Again, he cursed himself for not even trying to find out more about the whole thing, especially on the nature of the emissary ahead of time. He had been very clear in his response that this would be nothing but a meet'n'greet. He had been offered back-up, of course, but he had only smiled at Björn and allowed his magic to flare a bit, making all the points he needed to. He was in his own smithy; he had his hammer, sword, and staff nearby. There wasn't much he needed to fear.

The soft knock on the door could easily have been missed, but he had been expecting it.

“Come.”

The door opened, revealing a gorgeous vision of fevered imagination. She was quite tall, at least a head taller than him, and the spiralled horns made her even taller. Her leathery wings were folded up behind her back, and their black folds contrasted nicely to her vivid red skin, hid only in spots by a black leather bikini. Very small spots. She had large breasts and an inhumanly narrow waist followed by long, slender legs and he was actually surprised that the legs ended in feet instead of hooves until he saw that she only had two toes on each bare foot. Her sexiness beat against his consciousness like a sledgehammer, but he didn't have any real problems ignoring it. Her slim tail moved sinuously, and the arrowhead point twitched slightly. He searched inside himself and pulled out the little bits of Veela and similar magics and energized them with a smile. He may not be very proficient with the alluring magics, but two could play the game. He was a bit surprised when the entity raised her hands in submission.

“Please, Master Fafnersson, no more. I don't have the best self-control under ideal circumstances, and my conscious mind has no intention of attacking you, but Succubi have very little restraint and I'm trying very hard not to jump you.” Her feminine voice was breathy and heavy with raw desire, so he immediately relaxed the Allure.

“Succubi? I always thought you were a kind of demon. I also don't think I've ever heard you described like this, even though I do recognise your appearance.”

“This is my natural appearance. We're shapeshifters, of course, and I guess the Demonic reputation is caused by our largest colonies, in Rome and Albion. Priests and monks are so tasty.”

She smiled, apparently detecting his lack of either ill will or revulsion. She probably did her best to control her aura, but there wasn't much she could do, so Harry decided to be as friendly as he dared.

“So, what's your name?”

“I am called Amy, normally. Amithriabagdalah is a bit of a mouthful, and I normally pose as a thoughtless little blonde tart who couldn't be expected to spell a longer name. Drunken rugby players don't go for the brainy type in their revels, and they usually blame their aching bodies and their weakness in the morning on the drinking. They never mention the nightmares.”

“Rugby players?”

“Yes, They're my preferred food source. They tend to survive. I feed like your Huldr do, but I need much more on a daily basis, both semen, vitality, and I also need psychic energy. Men with weak physiques can die even if I'm careful, and men with a lot of knowledge and imagination tend to suffer more from the nightmares my psychic feeding induces. I was sent to you as I haven't killed anyone, and the Succubus community is fairly well established as non-lethal these days. We like what you're doing, but we need no help. Anyway, our nasty cousins do.”

“The Dementors? You're cousins?”

“Well, we're emotivores, and our basic nature is fairly malevolent, no matter what we'd like it to be. However, the Dementors are much more intelligent than we are, unless they're driven half insane by hunger. They're a cursed race. Once, they were something else, but these days they have to suffer a dreadful existence. I've met Chon'z a couple of times, and he's a very refined being, with manners and mannerisms that are truly exquisite. Please, My Lord, give the poor guy a break. This is where I would normally spread my legs, but I don't think it'd work on you.” She smiled crookedly, flaunting her selling points in an exaggerated manner. He couldn't help smiling at her antics.

“You're right, it wouldn't. I'm not exactly starved in that respect. So, you and this Council want me to make some kind of habitat for the Dementors, and escort them on brief walks through crowds of Muggles or similar things to let them feed without taking too much from anyone, am I right?”

“Yes, that's about it. In return, you'll get the support of Mankinds collected nightmares. Before you ask, yes, I can be a very serious nightmare.” She kept preening to him, but then she stopped and sighed.

“What?”

She looked at him longingly, at his shoulders and arms, sweaty and shining in the light of the forge.

“You sure you don't want some? I wouldn't mind some semen right about now. You can put it anywhere.” She sounded hopeful, but he understood that she didn't really believe it. He could also see --- and smell --- that she was more than a little fidgety.

“I'm quite sure. You're sexy and all, but this is sort of the first date. I'm sure you understand.”

“Not really. I'm not one to let relationships build, after all. Ah well, there's always another athlete somewhere.” She shrugged, and started as he moved quickly towards her, rounding her and grabbing her full, heavy breasts.

“Perhaps not,” he smiled, as he built a serious bolt of Passionfire and unleached it into her body. She stood frozen, like from an electric charge, rather than a sexual, and her consciousness became drowned in pleasure. Thus bypassing all defenses, he used his telepathy to verify her story and he found that she hadn't lied to him one bit. She really didn't mean him any harm, and she really could be a serious nightmare. She also smelled of cinnamon and lust, and as her juices were splashing on the floor, the scent was almost overwhelming to him and he gave himself a half promise to try her out some time. When he had learnt what he needed, he released her.

“Oh my. If you ever want a piece of Darkness in your bed, just let me know. I'll be perfectly safe for you, I promise.”

“I'll keep that in mind. I like the wings.”

“Thanks. I'm rather fond of them myself. Until later, My Lord.”

The Succubus, the unquenchable sex fiend, staggered out the door, followed by the teenagers smile. It might actually be worth it, dealing with Dementors, to get frequent contact with such an exotic piece of tart.

Soon after she had left, Harry did the same. He was in a most peculiar mood, half exuberant and half pensive, when he found himself cornered by Cho Chang and Marietta Edgecombe.

“Um. M-Master Harry? The Goddess isn't here, and we n-need her ... it ... something.”

“Yes, Miss Chang?”

“Er. She said when she left that you ... might be able to ...”

“... Shove my cock up your arse and shag you silly, giving you that divine orgasm you need?”

“Oh, yes, please!”

“Sorry, but I'm busy right now. I think you need to work on your begging.”




Author's deranged howl:

Before I get into it, a truckload of brownies goes to pfeil, without whom this would be barely readable.
Ah, another one. I've never seen anyone making anything but Monsters out of the Dementors. I mean, I've read romantic Dracos, gay Harrys, interesting Ginnys and everything in between. Erm. Ta-daa! The sentient Dementors! This chapter's riddle: Chon'z isn't supposed to be written in our alphabet. Where do my dementor's come from? Figure out the origin of Chon'z, and you have it. Just tell me the alphabet.

As you all have figured out by now, these questions is a shameless attempt at getting more reviews.
Serious question here, though. I like this snap-shot storytelling. It's a bit jumpy, and it does place some extra work on your side of the screen, but it conveys the sense of a bigger picture much better than a nice flowing one could, unless you're a bloody good author. Shall I continue it, or shall I sacrifice the the big picture for a more modest, easier-to-read one? Please let me know.


Vanir