Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Folie a Deux	By : SalonKitty Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 206364 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 10
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Chapter 2: Another Side of True

Several hours later, we were making our way through the teeming crowds of Regent Street, still linked arm in arm and on the lookout for somewhere to eat. We had stopped at several shops already, with Harry purchasing a new mattress at one place and making arrangements to have it delivered the next morning. He still wanted to gather a few more odds and ends for the bedroom he’d be using at Grimmauld, but we were both starving, having come to the shared realisation that we hadn’t eaten yet and it was already close to three.

We’d turned down Chancery Lane, just past the British Museum, and there we’d found a Vietnamese eatery that looked promising. Inside the tiny dwelling, we’d huddled over steaming bowls of pho in quiet concentration as we greedily sucked down the flavorful broth. Harry was surely famished for he’d barely given me a glance as he ate, but the minute he was done, he’d pushed the bowl aside and proceeded to study me shrewdly, his green eyes glittering as they raked over me. I imagined he pulled the same expression whenever he sat down to interrogate suspected Death Eaters and I smirked back at him with a shake of my head.

“What? What did I do?”

“Nothing, I’m just waiting for you to start. I know you’ve probably got a list of questions for me written up in your purse or something.” I sounded my protest at the joke and pretended to take offense, but instead of smiling back he sighed heavily as he threw his napkin to the table top. “Not sure how illuminating I’m going to be on the topic, really. Honestly, ‘Mione, I couldn’t even begin to explain how things went pear-shaped so quickly.”

“Well, who asked for the separation? You or Ginny?”

Harry’s peeved had face said it all.

“Who do you think?”

“Was it…did it have to do with Ginny getting pregnant again so soon?”

Harry gave me an odd look, his eyes narrowing.

“No,” he insisted, as though I was mad to suggest such a thing. “Where would you even—wait, did she say something?”

“What? No! I just—I thought it might have been a possibility. I don’t know. I mean, what do I have to go on, Harry? Ron was right; you two are always happy and so together when we see you, and you’ve said sod all about any problems you might been having. I don’t think I’ve even seen the two of you fight, ever.”

“Right. Well…we’ve had a few fights,” he noted dryly.

“About what?”

Instantly, Harry’s face broke into an uneasy smirk, his arms crossing his chest.

“…Asks the lady so innocently. Hmm, what did we fight about?”

He’d taken another beat to look around at the inhabitants of the restaurant in feigned interest, before he’d glanced back down at the table like the answer would be found at the bottom of the soup bowl. Of course, by then, I knew I had guessed right about what was causing the rift. Harry’s beseeching attitude when he’d gazed back up at me only confirmed it; I could sense him waiting for me to supply the answer in my usual way, barreling over everyone else with my supposedly superior theories and limitless data. But I hadn’t wanted to make it easy for him for some reason, wanting him to say the words aloud without any prompting on my part.

“Er, well…it seems we’re not exactly…compatible…in certain, uh, areas.”

“And what areas would those be, Harry?”

I couldn’t help the smugness that had crept into my voice, but Harry had only glared, his lips pursed. Finally, after about another second, he’d flashed a palm up with a roll of his eyes, leaning closer to me as he spoke in a low, throaty voice.

“This has to do with fucking, ‘Mione. We like different things, alright? Which wasn’t an issue at first, but lately…it’s become a bit of a struggle. Obviously, things were much simpler when the sex was still new for us, but over time it’s been...let’s just say we’re not so simple, now. And yet, it just seems…outrageous that our marriage might end over something so—well, I don’t know how to even categorize it, anymore. I can’t pretend that it isn’t important. I already tried that and it didn’t work out.” His eyes widened in exaggeration. “I mean, it really didn’t work out.”

I had been ready for him, however, chomping at the bit to offer my advice.

“The fact is, Harry, you’re not the only couple to experience this. Lots of marriages have disintegrated because they couldn’t come to a compromise in the bedroom. It happens. When you think about it, you realize that our sexuality is really an extension of who we are as people. Some of us are more complicated than others. Whether it’s needing to play a very specific role, or craving affection in a certain way, it makes a huge difference if your partner can’t provide you with the necessary fulfillment in that part of your relationship.”

I don’t know what I’d been expecting—Harry eager to spill the details once he heard my usual brilliance on all matters?—but he’d only eyed me with suspicion.

“Are you sure Ginny hasn’t said anything to you?” I’d denied it with a firm shake of my head. “Because she told George everything, which pissed me off to no end. He was quite literally ready to kick my arse that day he came to see me— right there in my office, no less. I don’t know what she was thinking to confide in him. But…I kept waiting for her to say something to you about it. Maybe I wanted you to confront me, in some way; I don’t know. I really didn’t feel I could approach you with it, myself. Of course, you’ve been a bit busy,” he finished sheepishly.

“You didn’t feel you could approach me?” I’d echoed, hearing the hurt evident in my voice. I had believed that Harry and I had reached a point where we could talk about anything with each other in our friendship. Merlin, there were things I had told him that I hadn’t even discussed with Ron over the years. This had felt like a step backwards.

“Well, ‘Mione, it’s not really a topic that I was comfortable broaching with you, of all people. I mean, I didn’t want you to get upset about it; you’ve already been frazzled enough with your own pro—responsibilities. I didn’t want to add to that.”

I had scoffed at the idea, however, choosing to ignore his allusion to my recent troubled state.

“Harry, it’s not like we never chat about sex. What sort of prude do you take me for, anyway? Why would I get ‘upset’? It’s not me you’re having the problem with, is it? I just want to help.”

He looked away with another lopsided, wry grin, shaking his head as if I didn’t get it at all. When he turned back at me, there was a certain resolve that had set in the tense line of his jaw, his eyes flinty as he sized me up again. At some point, I had realized that my breaths had quickened with my heartbeat. Being pinned by that intense gaze always did that to me, for some reason; you’d think I’d have gotten used to it by then.

“You’re willingness to help is appreciated; really, it is. But…this is incredibly personal. I’m not sure you’d care to know the sordid details of our sex life, to be honest, and I didn’t want to offend you by whinging on about my…needs, I guess, for lack of a better word.” His eyes darted about my face looking for some encouraging sign, I suppose, so I’d nodded my head in a gesture for him to continue.

“Go on, Harry.”

He lifted a shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “Ginny seems pretty convinced that I’m a bit…warped. She thinks I have control issues. She said she’s gotten sick of me acting like a total bastard every time I want a shag, that I need to go and see someone, a professional, to ‘fix me up’ or else she’s through with me.” He paused to lick at his lips, his head tilting as he stared off into space again. My heart went out to him all of a sudden, a bit shocked at the things I was hearing. Harry looked quite devastated, in fact, and his eyes shone wetly, the unshed tears only adding to their brilliance. I darted out a hand to reach across the table and grab hold of his. “I don’t know what to do. Maybe she’s right, and I really did come out of the war all fucked up. But, in the last seven years, it’s only gotten more intense, these desires I have when I’m with her…sexually.”

He sighed and then glanced back at me with a weak smile. “Seeing her body naked beneath mine…it just does something visceral to me. It’s like, I have to,” his face broke into a shy smile, “well, never mind all that. I’m sure you’re not interested in that stuff. Suffice it to say, the more comfortable we’ve gotten with each other as we’ve grown older, the more I’ve pushed her, I suppose, and now she’s pushing back. I don’t know; her attitude changed quite a bit after James was born. Said she wasn’t going to put up with my ‘sickness’ anymore; that she was a mother now and I couldn’t treat her...like I’d been doing. So, in this last year, the strain got so ridiculous, I…well, I did some stupid things, Hermione.” His face deepened in color, angry all of a sudden. “God, I’m an idiot.”

“What happened? What did you do?” I had sounded out of breath by then, but I’d been thoroughly caught up in his revealing confession and my mind was spinning with images trying to depict what Harry was hinting at about his inclinations. His skin was so warm under my hand, and I tightened my hold reflexively, wanting him to share everything. Of course, I had quite forgotten, at that point, that we were in a public place, so when the waiter came up with an obsequious bow of his head and asked in his broken English if we wanted anything else, I was instantly annoyed by the interruption, the skin on my cheeks feeling flushed.

Harry recovered quickly, though, informing the small Asian man that we were done and to bring the cheque. He gave me an apologetic lift of the eyebrows as he reached in his back pocket for his wallet.

“I’ll get this. We should probably get going. Ron’ll be expecting you back by now.”

I felt let down, but acknowledged that he was probably right. As I discovered later, Ron was getting quite antsy over my disappearance right about then. I’d so wanted to hear the rest of Harry’s explanation, my curiosity spiking with the suggestion of his indiscretion.

“I suppose. But you still need to get this off your chest, Harry, I can tell. Why don’t you come over to see me tomorrow after you’ve finished with the move. Or better yet, I can bring Rose over to your place and I’ll help get you settled in. We can talk more then.”

But Harry’s eyes had flashed brightly before he’d cast his gaze to the table, looking a bit flustered. “Oh, uh, you know, don’t put yourself out, ‘Mione. I can manage just fine. I’ll, uh, ring you up when I’m ready to come by. I’ll have to see how things go, alright? It all depends on when I get done.”

I’d frowned at his brush-off, but only nodded back silently. I was determined to make him keep his word, though, come Monday.

We went our separate ways in an alley behind the restaurant, Harry heading to Grimmauld Place while I prepared to pop back to the Burrow. But before he’d had a chance to withdraw his wand and step into his stance for departure, I’d suddenly pulled him into a hug, squeezing him tightly in the hold. It felt wonderful to be sharing our lives with each other again, just like before Rose was born. I had wanted him to know how much it meant to me, his confidence, but I couldn’t get the words out just then. Harry had squeezed me back, but then just as instinctively burrowed his face into the side of my neck as his hands slid up my back. When wet lips pressed against the rapid pulse there just under my hair, a shiver ran through me like I’d just stepped into a cold, summer lake. I’d felt too awed to say anything once he’d pulled back to smile at me. He’d brushed a curl off my face affectionately, just like he had at his house.

“You’ve grown into such a lovely woman, Hermione. Motherhood agrees with you. Thanks so much for being such a special friend to me, especially through this. You don’t know how much I’ve missed you.”

Again, I just stood there dumbly, worried that I was about to start blubbering at any moment when he’d leaned over and quickly pecked at my cheek. “Till tomorrow, then,” he murmured by my ear. And with a crack he was gone.

~0~0~0~0~

That night was another restless one for me. My mind kept going back to Harry’s voice with each little truth he’d uttered. What had Ginny meant by sickness? Surely that had been an exaggeration; what could Harry possibly be doing to her that she found so objectionable? I imagined he was just a bit rough in their foreplay, but that…wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, was it? At least, that’s how I saw it then. Harry was very bold and a dominant personality, it would stand to reason that he might act like that in bed, too. I could certainly see that side of him being drawn out in such a passionate state. And Harry was nothing if not passionate. But he was big-hearted, as well, one of the kindest and most generous souls I knew, and I had always assumed he’d be more giving in such intimacy, that he’d be a bit of a romantic, even. My fascination over how wrong I’d been fueled my imagination to play out vivid scenarios in my head: Harry brandishing a bullwhip while wearing leather trousers, shirtless and donning a cruel smirk, or his hands wrapped around Ginny’s throat as he slapped her face, the familiar menace stamped in his features as I recalled his fits of outrage during our school years. But would he really go that far? That I couldn’t see, him being purposely sadistic.

By the time that Ron had crawled into bed with me a little while later, I’d felt a light thudding in my twat. It seemed to crank up to a pounding once I could feel his heavy body settling beside me, his back to me as he mumbled good night. Immediately, I’d rolled over on my side and let the pads of my fingers spread out against his wide, freckled shoulders to stroke their way down his back until my hand reached the top of his bum. One hand curved around his hip as I waited for him to take my not-so-subtle hint. He’d frozen at first, just laying in that same pose for a moment, before he’d suddenly flopped onto his back and scanned my face greedily, his expression quizzical as he tried to gauge my intent. I hadn’t wanted to verbalize what I needed right then; I just wanted him to know on instinct alone. I took hold of my bottom lip in my teeth and stared at his red, puffy ones for a moment, doing my best attempt at smoldering before lunging forward. Ron has very thick, sensual lips, one of his sexiest features, and I always enjoyed kissing him. He was just as enthusiastic. It didn’t take him long to get excited at the prospect of a shag. He cupped his hand between my legs within seconds, rolling me on to the mattress as he climbed over me. I could feel his hardness already and it only aroused me more. I needed to be filled right then.

Contrary to popular belief—oh, and I know there’s plenty of talk about me carrying the whip in our relationship—I am actually quite docile in bed. I had no problem letting Ron take over, whatsoever. I rarely instigated sex, though; I would just put a halt to his advances whenever I wasn’t in the mood. I knew he wanted me to be more aggressive, or at least vocal, about my needs, but frankly, it never really occurred to me to do so. I managed quite enough at work, juggling all manner of responsibilities while keeping a large staff on their toes; I never relished the idea of coming home to manage sex with my husband, too. No, my Ron was a tall, strapping bloke, and I loved his physique for that very reason, that his strength could dwarf me in so many ways. It felt like a leveling of the field, that we had the right balance in the way we worked with each other. I was the brains and he was the brawn, if you will, and letting him handle the physical side of our marriage suited us both.

Truth be told, I sometimes wished he’d be a bit more dominant, a bit more insistent.

But you were expecting that newsflash already, weren’t you?

Once he was inside me, I’d simply run on the adrenaline surging through me, wanting a good pounding—excuse my crassness—and not thinking about much else. I’d hitched my legs up round the middle of his back, hooking one ankle over the other as I grabbed hold of his hair and urged him to keep knocking me into the headboard. Ron’s hands had curled around the tops of my shoulders, his arms cradling my back, and I was matching his every thrust as his eagerness spilled over into passion. Head lifting from where it was bent to my breast, Ron had reached up to kiss me as we fucked, but I’d closed my eyes and turned my head to the side, pretending to not notice his request. A voice had started speaking up in my mind, the familiarity of it driving my arousal. Seeing her body naked beneath mine…it just does something visceral to me A long moan escaped me, making Ron move a bit faster.

…Gotten sick of me acting like a total bastard every time I want a shag…

Bastard. I could see it suddenly, Harry pinning her down, holding tight to her wrists while he pummeled her, his usual impulsiveness on full display, that straight-ahead-take-charge attitude growing stronger with every thrust. The way he would look at her, like he was ready to swallow her up. It’s only gotten more intense, these desires I have when I’m with her…sexually.

“Yessss. Fuck me harder, love.”

I’d shocked myself when I heard my own voice speaking aloud. For a second, I had panicked, not remembering if I’d used a name or not. Determining that it was better to keep quiet, I focused only on the spooling in my cunt, egging on that climax with every amount of will I could muster now that the images in my head had turned elusive. Obviously, I’d said the right thing, for Ron was giving me quite a good go of it. When that sweet release crept over me, I’d cried out in relief, eyes still shut tight. There was still an echo, of one single line…these desires I have…ringing through my head, but I was too exhausted to worry over it, just wanting sleep in that moment. Ron had wanted to snuggle afterwards and kept wrapping his arms around me, pulling my back into his chest as he nuzzled at my neck. I let him do what he wanted as I faded into blissful slumber.

~0~0~0~0~0~

I was, of course, awash in guilt the next morning. Totally mortified, actually, knowing full well that I’d gotten off to the fantasy of my best friend more so than the sex with my husband. I could barely meet Ron’s gaze through breakfast, not daring to look directly into his face while I carried Rose around on my hip, my wand directing the traffic of utensils in the air as I prepared cheese on toast and fried up some eggs and tomato. She was letting us know in her strident peals that she was ready for her feeding, too; not even the forks and spatula whizzing by her face could capture her attention.

Ron, for his part, had continued smiling at me with every glance as if he hadn’t seen me in eons and couldn’t believe his luck that I was currently in his kitchen. His expression was quite lovely, really, and I would have been touched if not for the gnawing self-loathing climbing up from my gut. I was terribly relieved once he finally left for work. And then it was as though I’d been granted free rein to think of Harry outright, thoughts of him flooding my brain. I’d wanted to call him straight away, but reminded myself that it was still early and he’d probably only just gotten started on his move. I’d had this notion that he most likely stayed at Godric’s Hollow the night before, the last time before he and Ginny would begin their trial separation, and I was instantly curious where he might have slept. Had Ginny consigned him to the spare room? Or were they still sharing a bed? Perhaps even having sex? While my rational, feminine self couldn’t see Ginny allowing any intimacy during their estrangement, something about Harry’s persuasive nature kept niggling at me. If Harry really wanted it, would Ginny have caved?

At that last thought, I’d slapped my palm to my face to wake myself up out of such nonsense. I hadn’t a clue why I was suddenly so obsessed with Harry and Ginny’s sex life but it was disturbing me, nonetheless. It was really none of my business. I just wanted to be a much needed friend to Harry, I’d asserted to myself. Otherwise, he would keep everything locked up inside of him and that would do him no good at all. He needed to talk it through; that much was obvious. Knowing how Harry’s mind often worked, and having learned a bit more about his childhood, I could only imagine how his wife’s comments that there was something wrong with him would only regurgitate Harry’s feelings of unworthiness developed under a decade of those dreadful Dursleys. I didn’t want to see him head down that path.

The morning had gone by in a slow crawl, punctuated by sound only when Rose was awake or wanting a tit. I had been feeling like a machine, my breasts serving no other purpose other than as a milk pump. At least my nipples had toughened up under Rose’s fierce chomping and were no longer sore, but still, the daily grind of it left me feeling incapable of ever being sexy again. The idea made me reconsider the previous evening, how I’d turn into a whorey slag for Ron. I’d been a tad shocked at the things that had come out of my mouth, to be honest. I didn’t typically talk during sex, at all. But it had felt good to see how much Ron still wanted me, I had needed that boost.

Taking advantage of some quiet time, I lounged on the couch reading while Rose took her nap. It was a silly romance novel about vampires that managed to get all the facts mangled and I’d grown irritated with it easily. I’d tossed the book aside with a disgruntled huff and glanced at the clock again. It was only noon. But surely, Harry would be ready for me to come by in another hour or so? No reason why I couldn’t start to get ready, I’d reasoned, quickly pulling myself up from my sprawled position and running up the carpeted stairs in bare feet. Standing under the hot jets of water from the showerhead, I was lulled into another set of daydreams, Harry’s wry face in the restaurant the day before continually popping into my head. There was always a sarcastic streak running through Harry that I found quite attractive. Ron possessed it, too; this unbridled sarcasm and pitch perfect delivery that made me laugh when it wasn’t directed towards me. But whereas Ron’s sardonic nature was a broad part of him, evident in every comeback and cynical observation, with Harry it sort of snuck up on you. He could be wickedly funny, but it would blindside you, his retorts so deadpan that I’d gotten used to giving him a double-take to make sure I’d heard him right. I was much more comfortable with Harry’s sense of humour once we were adults, and without the stress of Voldemort and the war, it had definitely flourished. But I knew he used it as a defense mechanism, too, distancing himself emotionally when things got too much to bear.

Wondering once more how our conversation might go that day, I’d stepped out of the shower and had headed into the bedroom with the intention of finding something…nice to wear for Harry. I’d convinced myself it was because I was reacting to my body’s descent into functional equipment that I’d needed to look pretty as a pick me up. I mean, I was under no delusion that I could ever look as gorgeous as Ginny—she was a knockout and had been for some time. Whenever we went out anywhere together, and even through school, I was always acutely aware that men’s eyes were drawn to her regardless of whether they were talking to me or not. I got used to it. But Harry’s words to me the day before…they had certainly impressed me enough to want to elicit that same response again. The fact that Harry had noticed me that way—it was unequivocal. Harry was never one for idle chatter or offering empty platitudes simply to make another feel better. I’d felt imbued by his gaze in some way, as if Harry suggesting I were lovely suddenly made it so.

Standing nude before my full-length mirror again, I’d done another, more detailed, inspection this time, thankful that the nurses at St. Mungo’s had spelled away my stretch marks. Giving birth in a magical hospital had its rewards. My belly was flat and smooth once more, disguising the fact that it had been balloon sized not even five months ago, but I tried not to get too bothered by the sight of my hip bones jutting out in stark definition. Looking down at the patch of brown pubic curls that appeared to have grown wild, I’d determined that I was in need of a trim and reached up on my dresser for my wand. Minutes later, what remained was tidy and narrowed. My hands trailed over my stomach and up over my breasts to land on either side of a severe looking collarbone. You should probably eat more, said a voice in my head, sounding eerily like Harry’s. Perhaps I would take Harry out to lunch once I got to Grimmauld, I’d pondered.

I’d ruffled through my lingerie drawer until I found the dark purple satiny bra with the slightly padded cups. They had a matching g-string with a tiny lilac bow at the top. It was my favorite set and I tended to wear them when I went out somewhere fancy with Ron. Of course, it was Ron’s favorite, too, as it was distinctively different to the under things I usually wore. Once I’d put it on, I glanced over into the glass behind me again and checked out the backside. My arse hadn’t suffered any weight loss, unfortunately, taking up quite a bit of the frame, but that was a feature my husband seemed to appreciate, at any rate. Stepping to the cupboard, I slid back the door to peruse my smart tops, pant suits, and knee-length pencil skirts looking for something a little more feminine and flattering. Not up to repeating the summer dress, I’d settled on a short chiffon skirt and a black lacy top. Running a gel through my hair to sleeken up my curls, I set to work on making up my face, darting looks at the mobile on the nightstand as I willed it to ring. By the time I was completely ready to go, it was still lying dormant in an almost irritating fashion. I glared at it through slitted eyes, hands on my hips, but it refused to utter a sound. I’d sighed and flounced to my bed, grabbing the phone and flipping up its receiver to punch away at Harry’s number. Ten frustrating rings later and no answer left me gritting my teeth. What the bloody hell was he doing? I looked at the clock again. It was one thirty, by then. He was a wizard, how long could it have possibly taken to move some furniture when he didn’t even have to lift anything? Perhaps he’d forgotten?

I finally decided that I’d just get Rose ready and drop in unannounced. It wasn’t like Harry wasn’t expecting me, I’d reasoned, he’d just lost track of time. Bundling up Rose in her pouch and strapping it over my shoulders once I hefted her weight to my chest, I’d taken hold of her bag that contained her shrunken playpen and carrier, plus the hundred and one baby supplies I was now forced to lug around on every outing, and stepped us up to the hearth of the fireplace. Apparating with one so tiny was not good for the baby’s equilibrium, the books had said, and Molly’s anecdotes on her children’s infancies confirmed that there would be quite a bit of sick-up at the other end were one to try it. But Rose didn’t mind the Floo, at all; in fact, it tended to quiet her down when she was being fussy, appearing rather awed when we arrived at our destination. Not that I’d taken her out very often, but certainly on our regular visits to the Burrow, and the added Sticking Charm gave me peace of mind during travel.

With no Fidelius in place to worry about anymore, I had called out my end point in a clear voice as I held tight to a wriggling Rose. A split second before we commenced spinning, I had heard Harry’s voice in my mind saying very slowly, I’ll ring you up when I’m ready to come by. But then we were in motion, the view from inside the fireplace looking out onto a blur of color and intermittent flashes of domestic scenery, as though we were on a speeding train running by endless living rooms. As soon as we stopped in front of the slowly developing picture of Grimmauld’s wide kitchen, I’d hopped out with an anxious feeling growing in the pit of my stomach.

Shit.

Why had I thought we’d agreed that I was coming to see Harry and not the other way ‘round?

That was a rhetorical question, mind you; I can do without the sarcasm.

But I was there already, and so I had figured I’d just explain to Harry that I couldn’t get through on the mobile and wanted to check up on him. How could he be mad about that? In truth, I hadn’t been terribly worried until I noticed the continuing silence assaulting me as I stood there, Rose asleep with her head on my bosom. I took a few tentative steps towards the archway leading to the rest of the house, my ears pricked up for any sounds of stirring from the above floors.

“Hullo?”

My voice cut sharply through the quiet like a drumstick to a cymbal. My surroundings were densely noncommittal until a few seconds later a heavy thump had sounded from upstairs. I’d frowned as I glanced up at the ceiling, attempting to discern from which room the disturbance came. Was Harry still moving his bed in? What had he been doing all morning? I’d thought reproachfully as I strode up the steps. There was no one in the drawing room, and I eyed the ceiling again, listening for more movement, but all had gone quiet. Pulling Rose’s tiny carrier from my bag, I’d grown it back to its normal size after setting it on the sofa and laid her down in it. She always looked so sweet in sleep; that bottom lip of hers plumped out again. I straightened my blouse and ran my hands through my hair once before marching up to the stairs. Grabbing hold of the banister, I’d pulled myself into the momentum as I jogged most of the way up, my flats noiseless on the carpet.

As soon as I’d arrived on the second landing, I’d heard Harry’s voice. I almost called out to him right then, assuming he was talking to me, but something had made me pause as the rough and deep timbre of his command floated into the hallway. There was a seemingly distressed, yet muffled cry in reply and I froze at the sound of it. Harry was with someone. My hand flew to my mouth as it dropped open in surprise. What an idiot I was. No wonder he hadn’t called me yet if he’d been planning on having a guest over the whole time. I’d turned around, ready to stealthily head back down the stairs when I heard him, plain as day, his voice carried so clearly that I’d suddenly realized his bedroom door was open.

“Open your legs wider, you cold bitch. Show me how much you want this.”

I’d stood stock still, a rush swooping up from my stomach and igniting my nerves to tingle from head to toe like I’d been too close to a roaring fire. There was another muffled—and distinctly female—response and when I’d heard the sudden ring of a slap resounding through hall; my eyes had practically bugged out of my head. Who, in God’s name, did he have in there with him? Could it possibly be Ginny? Was she in…trouble of some sort? The notion of Harry acting out badly in some manner filled me with dread, yet I was powerfully curious to know what the hell was going on in there. Feeling ashamed, disturbed, and thrilled all at the same time, I’d turned back to face the open doorway about ten paces away on my left. I knew it was Sirius’ old room, and it hurt a bit that Harry had gone right back to it while he was supposedly nursing his wounds from the split. But there was no mistaking the threat inherent in that demand and I had to know who was on the receiving end of this ‘bastard’ Harry. If it was Ginny, and Harry was upset, she might need some help, I’d reasoned.

Arching my steps so I could walk on the pads of my feet, I slowly made my way to the bedroom by easing along the wall as Harry slapped what could only be flesh once again. His running commentary caused my body to burn.

“I’m going to fuck you hard until you scream for me. Isn’t that what you want? Why you keep coming to see me, slut? Just admit that you need me, crave what I do to you. Nod your head.” Another slap and a short, stifled yelp. “You want me to hurt you, don’t you? I want to see some begging in those big, icy blues of yours. You weren’t under the impression I was just going to give everything you wanted without some work on your part, did you?”

There was a long, stretched out moan in answer, but by this time I was right at the edge of the door frame. I’d taken a deep breath and then poked my head out to the side, determined to confront the pair of them and make sure Harry’s ‘partner’ was all right. My eyes felt the strain from going so huge, but I couldn’t even begin to process what I was gaping at in front of me. I’d automatically shifted to stand right in the doorway, no longer able to hide my shock, but Harry’s back was slightly to me, and I wasn’t immediately apparent to him.

But I could see who was stretched out on the bed in front of him, most certainly. Blonde hair lay fanned out on the mattress, one that looked like it had just been dropped off from the furniture showroom. The bed was still wrapped up in the thick, heavy plastic, but its protective packing had been slit through in two midsections. And under the wrapping; plastic pressed tightly to her nude, elegant torso, her head and shoulders sticking out of one slit atop the plastic, while her lower half was jutting out at the other end, lay none other than Narcissa Malfoy.

Her arms looked as though they were pressed underneath her body, hands under her bum, but seeing her breasts completely flattened by the plastic indicated just how securely she was fastened to the bed. Not that she seemed to mind her imprisonment, I’d noted in a sick fascination. There was a green ball stuffed into her garishly stretched mouth; I could see the wetness of drool sliding down to her chin and her eyes were shut in some kind of ecstasy. Her head was nodding vigorously to whatever Harry had asked her, I had ceased hearing anything he was uttering at that point.

And Harry…I couldn’t fathom what my best friend was in the middle of doing, nor that I was staring at his naked backside as he prepared to screw this woman silly. He had a hand pressed down on Narcissa’s thigh, holding her open, while the other wielded her right leg into the air, propping it against his shoulder. His hand reared back and I watched him slap her buttocks again, calling her something else derogatory that I couldn’t wrap my head around. Before I knew it, a strangled choke had come up from my chest and I’d panicked at the sound escaping from my lips. Narcissa’s eyes flew open wide as she raised her head, but I’d turned and started running before Harry had looked around at where I was standing. I’d heard his harsh demand as I hurled myself down the stairs, though.

“Who the hell is there?!”

I kept running, not bothering to identify myself, until I’d reached the first landing and spotted Rose still sleeping on the couch. Taking hold of the handle, and snatching the bag sitting next to her, I’d hauled them both along as I resumed running down to the kitchen, my chest burning from the exertion and my eyes tearing up as I’d headed for the fireplace. There was a loud thudding clamoring down the stairway, but I shakily reached out for the Floo powder and ran inside, not even able to take Rose into my arms before I was calling out the address of my home. Wrapping my arm protectively across her carrier like a bar, I’d heard a shout right before I saw Harry run into the kitchen, wand drawn and completely naked.

He’d looked up at the fireplace just as the familiar spin of green flames twirled me away from his surprised face.
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