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Revenge of the MHP	By : reddragon Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 51869 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters associated with said property. This is a work of fiction, and I do not intend or stand to make a profit. All resemblances are coincidental.

Chapter List
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                Ron’s eyes stung, his cheeks burning from the tracks of salt left behind from his tears as his mind rejected what he was hearing. There was no way his friends had become psychotic murderers, yet there they sat, gleefully partaking of each other’s naked bodies, frolicking in a room full of corpses. Harry grunted as he spent himself in Hermione’s mouth, her throat twitching as she eagerly swallowed every last bit of his seed. A small bit escaped to drip down her chin, but a quick swipe of her tongue caught it before the tasty morsel could escape. Ron wanted to cry out in protest, but the words wouldn’t come. He was too tired, too sore for that. The bleeding from his hands had slowed down, leaving behind brown streaks of dried blood along his wrists.

                “My turn?” Hermione panted as she rose to her feet. She wobbled unsteadily for a moment as the circulation returned to her lower legs, and she ended up sinking onto the chair next to Harry.

                “In a minute, love,” Harry answered with a weak smile. “I may be the most powerful wizard of our generation, but even I have my limits!”

                “But-“ Hermione began to protest with a pout. Harry silenced her with a gentle finger against her lips.

                “Hush,” he ordered. “I said that I was tired, not that you would have to wait. Let me just summon our Pet, and she can keep you entertained while I recover. Pet, come here please!”

                ‘Who?’ Ron thought, his mind struggling to focus through the pain. It was worse than anything he could imagine, including the Cruciatus curse. At least the curse only inflicted physical pain, unlike the emotional torment he was now suffering at the twisted mockeries that resembled the two people who had been his dearest friends in the world. Every breath hurt, and his shoulders ached from being held in one position for so long, the sockets stretching and popping as they tried and failed to support the weight of his body. His palms itched madly, which only caused him to scream with fresh anguish as his fingernails dug into the raw, oozing flesh when he instinctively tried to scratch.

                Still, that was nothing compared to listening to the pure admiration in Hermione’s voice as she fawned over Harry. It was unthinkable. Hermione had never been one to crave power, so how could she possibly condone Harry’s actions, let alone touch him like that? Ron’s jaw dropped as a familiar red headed girl stepped out from behind Harry’s chair and moved so that she was kneeling next to his arm.

                “Ginny, please, you have to help me! Harry and Hermione have gone mad!” Ron pleaded. Ginny turned to look at him, but she made no move to rescue him. She stared at Ron dumbly, as if she not only didn’t recognize him, but he was speaking a foreign language as well. The flames in the Common Room’s fireplace popped and roared as they grew brighter, and Ron gasped in shock as he got a good look at his sister’s naked body. Her pale skin was covered in long, red marks that crisscrossed her belly, shoulder, and thighs, the result of what had clearly been a vicious whipping. Only her face and breasts had been left untouched, save for a sickle sized brand over her left breast, a rampant stag back to back with a fire breathing dragon, set over a cat’s face.

                Ginny turned to Harry and asked, “Master, who is that?”

                Harry reached down and began to lovingly stroke her hair. When he spoke it was with a tenderness that Ron would have sworn he was no longer capable of feeling. “He is no one, Pet. Just the last link in an old chain that binds us to an old and dead world. Once he is broken we shall be free of all of our fetters, free to take our place as the rightful masters of our destinies and all that we may seek to lay claim to.”

                “May I help, sir?” The eagerness was plain in Ginny’s voice, and Ron’s stomach clenched as he realized that the irrepressible girl he had known as his sister was gone, replaced by the creature kneeling at Harry’s side.

                “In time,” Harry replied soothingly, causing Ron to blanch when he added, “I will have a task for you yet.”

                “But I want to help now,” Ginny begged, pressing her face against Harry’s arm as tears began to gather at the corner of her eyes. “I want to be useful to my master!”

                “Well, there is something you can do…” Harry offered tantalizingly. “Your Mistress would like someone to play with her.”

                “I love playing with Mistress!” Ginny gushed breathily. “Would she like me on top or the bottom?”

                “How about you crawl between my legs and put that tongue of yours to good use?” Hermione replied invitingly, beckoning Ginny over with one finger. The red head moved with a sloppy haste, as if Hermione’s sodden pussy was an oasis after a long, dry trip through the desert. She plastered her face at the V between Hermione’s legs, her mouth devouring the sweet, arousing nectar that issued forth. Hermione let out a long, deep moan as the younger girl’s desire overwhelmed her. “Oh god’s Ginny, that’s…aaaah!”

                “STOP IT!” Ron bellowed, turning his head in disgust. “Hermione! Ginny! How could you?!”

                “Oooh, it wasn’t easy,” Hermione moaned as Ginny slipped first one, then two fingers into her tight pussy. “Your sister has quite a bit of stamina…”

                                                                                *             *             *

                “Oh my God, Harry!” Hermione gasped as she watched Harry come stumbling down the stairs from the Headmaster’s office. She had just been finishing up a late night study session in the library, and her arms were full of extra books and notes for her classes and other pursuits. The entire situation with Dumbledore’s Army the previous year had opened her eyes to everything she had been missing out on by sticking to the school’s curriculum. There were literally acres of spells and enchantments tucked away in the Library, including many from previous wizarding wars. Most had been locked away in the Restricted section, but it hadn’t taken much for her to wheedle a free pass out of McGonagall.

                “Are you okay?” she asked, dropping her load of books to the cold, stone floor.

                “Dead,” Harry wheezed, clutching his chest. “Dumbledore… Snape… murdered.”

                “Snape and Dumbledore have been murdered?” Hermione gasped in shock. “There are Death Eaters in the castle? Quick, we need to sound the alarm!”

                “No!” Harry snapped, seizing her by the arm before she could run off. “No. Not Death Eaters. I did it. I killed them.”

                “What? No!” Hermione protested in horror. “There must be a mistake! They can’t be… You couldn’t have…”

                “Snape attacked me,” Harry explained quickly. “Dumbledore… Dumbledore tried to stop it. Tried to defend Snape. I had to protect myself. I used the spell from the book. It killed them…”

                “Oh, Harry!” Hermione cried, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. “Are you all right? Is there anything I can do?”

                Harry stared at her numbly for a moment, still trying to process the events of the past few moments. For some reason his focus came to rest on the part of her robes, just above her chest. He could make out just the slightest hint of cleavage, which for some reason seemed terribly important. He and Ron had managed to get Hermione to confess to the fact that she rarely wore much on her late night excursions to the Library. The school robes provided plenty to suit her modesty and, unless it was bitterly cold out it, it was just easier for her to stick to her underwear. Not having to undress when she returned to the dorms meant she was less likely to wake the other girls. The spring had been warm so far, so she was unlikely to be wearing anything more than a pair of panties, as she had long ago discovered a variation of wingardium leviosa that invalidated any need for a bra.

                ‘Take her,’ a voice whispered in the back of Harry’s mind. ‘She should be yours. She cares about you, loves you. She would give herself willingly to you…’

                ‘No,’ Harry thought, shaking his head to try and rid himself of that dreaded whisper. ‘No, she is with Ron. I can’t do that to him!’

                ‘Why not?’ the voice challenged. ‘What has he ever done for you? He has always been a cowardly, jealous fool. Take his woman. She is powerful, courageous, just like you. She would be wasted on him.’ An image rose to the front of his consciousness, Hermione on her back with her legs spread, her voice thick with pleasure as he fucked her relentlessly. ‘Take her. Claim her. She will be yours, she wants to be yours…’

                “Harry? Harry, what’s wrong?” Hermione asked, her voice taut with worry.

                Harry’s answer was to shove her against the wall, crushing her between his body and the hard stone, his hand cradling her head to cushion it from the impact. Hermione’s cry of surprise was cut off as Harry’s tongue snuck into her mouth. Hermione froze, her mind incapable of processing what was happening to her. She knew this was wrong, that it was a betrayal of Ron, that she should stop Harry before it went too far – yet at the same time she just didn’t want to. She gasped as Harry yanked her robe open, the catch holding it closed tearing free with a muted shhrrrp. The robe hung loosely on her slender frame, baring her perfectly sized breasts to the chilly night air.

                For a moment all Harry could do was stare at her tightening nipples. The sweet little nubs rose and fell with each of her breaths in a hypnotic pattern that robbed him of the ability to think. He had never actually seen a girl naked before. Sure, there had been the occasional naughty photo that had been passed around the dorm, but that was different. Now he could feel the heat from her skin, smell the tangy scent of her fearful arousal, hear the catch in her breath as she waited for him to make his next move. It suddenly struck him just how far he had gone, the terror of attacking one of his best friends, what a terrible betrayal of Ginny this would be.

                ‘There can be three thrones,’ the voice assured him, and Harry Potter knew he was damned.

                He kissed her again, but now the animal savagery was gone, replaced with a more focused dominance. He felt her body soften against him as he nibbled at her neck, her resistance ebbing as he fondled her breasts. He was, perhaps, a bit clumsy at it, here a sloppy kiss, there a grip too firm. He made up for it with a ruthless determination, a sense of self confidence he had never known before.

                Hermione felt herself yielding to his passion, her body deciding what her mind could not. She and Ron had fooled around a bit before, the clumsy experimenting of two children still discovering their own bodies. It had felt good, sort of – Ron had never really had the attention span for her to truly figure out what felt good – but it didn’t compare to the way Harry made her feel. Her body felt as if it were on fire, consumed by a raging inferno that only grew hotter with each brush of his finger tips.

                “Oh, Harry,” Hermione moaned as his hand invaded her panties. Harry was surprised to discover bare skin under his fingers, but it was a thrilling discovery and his cock twitched with wanton anticipation of the moment it would replace his hand between her legs. He was amazed at how hot and wet she felt as his fingers slipped into her slick cunny. Hermione sagged bonelessly against the wall, wriggling her hips against the impaling digits as she rolled her panties down her thighs. The soggy garment landed on the ground in a lump, but neither one noticed. Hermione began to fumble with the buttons on his robe, her normal care lost in her haste. She wanted more, she wanted to feel his body under her hands, she wanted to feel his cock buried deep in her snatch she wanted…

“HARRY?!”
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Revenge of the MHP