Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Stricken: The Principles of Lust	By : Chocho Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 10291 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the characters, places or names. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Stricken: The Principles of Lust

Four-part

Written by: chochowilliams

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the characters, places or names. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Summary: No strings. No promises. No commitment. Just a single night of passion to ease the loneliness. It wasn’t until Harry discovered he was pregnant did things start to become complicated.

Warning: non-epilogue compliant, fantasy, drama, romance, language, sexual situations, infidelity, OOC, OCs, F/M, M/M, M-Preg

Pairings: Harry/Lucius, Ron/Hermione, past Harry/Ginny, implied Ginny/Seamus, implied future Harry/Draco

Inserts: “The Flea” by John Donne; recap from chapter 1; “The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost

A/N: Thank you all so very much for your support!

+ HARRY POTTER + STRICKEN: THE PRINCIPLES OF LUST +

Confess it, this cannot be said

A sin, or shame, or loss of maidenhead,

            Yet this enjoys before it woo,

            And pampered swells with one blood made of two,

            And this, alas, is more than we would do.

-From “The Flea” by John Donne

+ HARRY POTTER + STRICKEN: THE PRINCIPLES OF LUST +

Last Time

They exchanged a smile.

Lucius cupped Harry’s cheek and pressed their lips together in a brief chaste kiss. Sitting up, he gripped Harry’s hips firmly and slowly started to withdraw.

As the immense pressure from having Lucius’ sizable cock inside him subsided, Harry released the death grip on the dark green satiny down comforter beneath him.

Then with a snap of his hips, Lucius thrust back into Harry, forcing out a passionate cry from the younger male.

Any lingering pain was quickly replaced with wave after wave of pleasure and forgotten. A rhythm was set, then broken and reset.

Harry met Lucius’ thrusts head on.

As Harry was rocked, sometimes forcibly, sometimes lovingly, his grunts and moans and nonsensical utterances mingled with those from Lucius. The bed creaked violently beneath them. The headboard thwacked the wall behind it in an un-eurhythmic rhythm. Harry clawed at any and all available surfaces including Lucius.

The pressure built and built until it exploded and before the high could die completely, it was built back up. The cycle continued long into the night.

Not once could Harry admit to thinking about Ginny that night. Nor could he say he regretted sleeping with Lucius Malfoy. Not that night, the next morning or a month later.

+ HARRY POTTER + STRICKEN: THE PRINCIPLES OF LUST +

Chapter 2: Forbidden Voice’s Consequences

7^th February - 12 Grimmauld Place - London, England

Standing on the front stoop, shivering as the chill February air enveloped his body, Harry watched Randall make his way down the front walk to his truck parked at the curb in front of the house. He held his hand up in return as Randall turned and waved one last time before hopping into his truck. The roar of the truck’s engine muffled the silence of the neighborhood and then Harry was watching the taillights fade away.

Frozen to the bone, Harry retreated into the warmth of the house. He exhaled a grateful sigh as immediately he began to unthaw. Shutting the front door, he turned the deadbolt. The tumblers shifted and clanked loudly in the silence. He felt the wards fall back into place at the same time.

There was an almost silent pop behind him. “Kreature was asked to remind Master that Mistress Black and Master’s godson will be joining Master for dinner.”

Groaning, Harry dropped his forehead against the door with a thud and a wince. He clamped his eyes shut and brought a hand to his churning stomach. He had actually forgotten that he had invited Andromeda and Teddy over for dinner. With the way his stomach was rebelling at the moment, he was not sure how much of dinner he would be able to keep down. The idea of getting sick in front of Andy and Teddy was not a fetching one. It would lead to questions he could not answer.

Turning his head, Harry stared over his shoulder into the parlor. It happened to be the only empty room in Grimmauld Place at the moment. When his emerald gaze landed on the cold hearth of the fireplace, he bit his lip.

At first, he’d just passed his nauseousness of as a passing stomach bug. He’d never really been sick before but there was a first time for everything, especially since this winter seemed to be so much colder than usual. But as the weeks passed and the nausea did not subside, Harry had begun to grow suspicious. It was time to figure out just what was wrong with him and the only person he knew who could help him without launching into a spontaneous game of Twenty Questions was Madam Pomfrey. That was what he needed at the moment: answers not the hot seat.

Pushing away from the door, Harry walked down the hall, bypassing the parlor, towards the kitchen. Vaguely, he noted that Kreature was nowhere to be seen. Making his way through the newly remodeled and modernized kitchen, he headed towards the fireplace. Grabbing a handful of floo powder from the sterling silver candy dish on the mantel, Harry paused briefly and wondered if this really was a good idea.

So he’s been feeling a bit nauseous. That didn’t mean anything. Not really. Right? It was nothing. Just a little stomach bug. It happens to everyone. Ginny herself had apparently been sick over Christmas.

Shaking himself, Harry shook his wand into his hand and cast an incendio at the stack of new logs. He hummed in pleasure at the feel of the heat against his face. Sighing, he crouched before the undulating flames and tossed the floo powder into the fire. Watching as the flames flared green in reaction, he called out in a clear and calm voice, “Hogwarts. Hospital wing,” before sticking his head into the green fire. He was forced to close his eyes against the dizzying feeling.

“Mr. Potter?”

The familiar voice brought a smile to Harry’s face. Opening his eyes, he looked upon the wizarding matron who appeared to be shocked to see him; or his head at least. “Hello Madam Pomfrey,” he greeted. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Potter,” Pomfrey said. “What can I do for you? Were you trying to contact Minerva?”

Harry shook his head. “No, actually, I was looking for you.”

“Oh? What can I do for you?”

“I’m, uh…” At that moment, Harry was thankful that floo calling gave his features a green tint because this way, Madam Pomfrey would not be able to notice how flushed he was. She’d probably misinterpret it as him having a fever when in reality he just thought he was being ridiculous. “I was wondering if you could help me find a Healer or Mediwitch or whatever.” He still wasn‘t sure what the difference between the two was. Were they two different titles that referred to the same magical medical personnel; or was a Healer the magical equivalent of a doctor and a Mediwitch the magical equivalent of a nurse? And why did they not teach these types of things in school? It would be more useful than learning how to turn a rat into water goblet. “I don’t have any particular preference as to where they practice as long as they’re competent and could be discreet.” The last thing he wanted was to wake up the morning after his appointment to screaming headlines.

Harry could not remember ever having seen a doctor while living with the Dursleys other than an optometrist that one time -- and that was only because the school had sent a note home explaining that he needed glasses -- and the school nurse. He’d never had a primary care physician or a family doctor like Hermione said she’d had. Once he’d reentered the Wizarding World, he hadn’t even thought about finding a family Healer. He‘d been too busy trying to stay alive for one thing. Besides, what child worries about nonsense like that? That being the case, he had no idea where to even begin as the only Mediwitch he really knew was Madam Pomfrey.

“Sure. What type of Healer were you looking for?”

Harry was blinking at the woman in confusion. “What type?”

“Yes, Mr. Potter, what type,” she confirmed patiently. “Like in the Muggle world, the medical personnel here in the Wizarding World specialize in different branches of medicine. Did you need a family Healer or a specialty Healer?”

“Uhm, well…I‘m-I‘m not sure.”

Madam Pomfrey nodded. Settling herself onto a chair she rolled before the fire, she asked him to explain what symptoms he was displaying. “That way, I can get a better understanding of what Healer you should go see.”

Nodding, Harry bit his lip and stared passed Madam Pomfrey’s shoulder.

Seeing his hesitation and even his fear, Madam Pomfrey dropped her voice. “You can trust me, Mr. Potter. Nothing you say will leave this room.”

Harry nodded again then found he couldn’t stop. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, held it for a ten-count and then with a silent curse, decided to just blurt it out. “I think I’m pregnant.”

There was silence and then, “Oh my.”

+ HARRY POTTER + STRICKEN: THE PRINCIPLES OF LUST +

16^th February - 12 Grimmauld Place - London, England

With his arms folded behind his head, Harry lay on his bed staring blankly up at the ceiling. Unfortunately, his mind was not as empty as his gaze was. The wheels were spinning wildly.

Madam Pomfrey had recommended a Keisha Iriye who had her own practice in Opulentus Alley, which she explained was an affluent wizarding shopping district. “Healer Iriye is well known for her overtly strict confidentiality agreements that all her employees had to swear when they are hired. Breaking the taboo has serious consequences,” she’d said.

Harry had immediately floo called Healer Iriye that same afternoon. Thankfully, she’d had an opening.

A tapping sound at the window drew his attention. He winced, muttering a curse under his breath. It was Ginny’s owl.

He still hadn’t said anything about his little indiscretion to his girlfriend. Heck, he wasn’t even sure if he and Ginny were still dating seeing as they hadn’t spoken since well before Christmas. He hadn’t even gone to Hogsmeade for Valentine’s Day a couple days ago like they‘d planned back in September.

Was that why he hadn’t said anything about what happened at Lord Corfield’s New Years Eve Ball between Draco’s father and him? If he and Ginny were no longer a couple, then the fact that he slept with Lucius was none of her business. Or was he just scared of her reaction? Could it be a combination of the two?

Either way, he found he did not regret sleeping with Lucius despite knowing that not only had he cheated on his girlfriend, but also possibly something other than a single night of forbidden passion had been achieved. Though that was not to say he did not feel guilty for being unfaithful because he did. How could he not? He loved Ginny. No matter what happened between the two of them, he would always love her. He was certain about that. He could see spending the rest of his life with her. They would get married and have a family. He could see him and Ginny growing old together and watching as their children had children of their own.

The future had been planned out so perfectly. The path ahead had been so clear, but everything had changed with that one act on New Years Eve. Thick fog had descended and obscured the view. Now he had no idea what the future held. It was all about the road not taken.

“‘Two roads diverged in a wood, and I - / I took the one less traveled by,’” Harry recited from memory. It just might make all the difference, he thought with a sigh.

Sitting up, Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed and pushed himself off. He padded across the room to the window where the familiar owl sat waiting impatiently. When he opened the window to allow the owl inside, a wicked wind burst forth, bringing with it a flurry of snow. Harry shivered violently.

Ginny’s owl flew into the bedchamber and landed on the dresser. It stuck out its leg and hooted shrilly at him. If Harry didn’t know any better, he would swear it gave him the evil eye. After releasing the owl of its burden, it took off back out the window, but not before it pecked Harry’s finger. “Ow,” Harry hissed. He sucked on the wound as he shut and latched the window. “Damn bird,” he cursed.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he stared down at the letter. Scrawled on the front of the envelope in Ginny’s curlicue handwriting was his name. This was the first letter he’d received from Ginny since before Christmas. His stomach knotted in dread.

Before he could even read the letter, the alarm on Harry’s watch went off. It was time to head to his doctor appointment. The nausea intensified. What he learned within the next couple of hours would dictate which of those two roads diverged in a yellow wood he would be taking. He was not sure which was the more inviting and which one scared the bejesus out of him.

+ HARRY POTTER + STRICKEN: THE PRINCIPLES OF LUST +

Iriye Family Medical Practice - Opulentus Alley, London, England

Much to his relief, Opulentus Alley was not connected to Diagon Alley -- not by portal or by junction. In fact, the entrance to Opulentus was at the opposite end of London all together. Access to Opulentus, as instructed by Madam Pomfrey, was simple. All Harry had to do was find a closed bridal shop off a close that was off another close that was off the main strip within Muggle London‘s Soho district. Simple. You, literally, step through the front door of the shop and are transported to Opulentus. Harry was impressed with Opulentus Alley. It was cleaner as in more hygienic and sanitary, and cleaner as in more well kept than Diagon Alley was. Locating Healer Iriye’s practice was relatively unproblematic as well. It sat next to an old-fashioned soda fountain that looked as if it had been ripped right out of a Muggle department store circa the 1950s.

That had been the easy part. The hard part came when Healer Iriye had asked him a bunch of routine questions at the start of his examination.

“Are you sexually active?”

“How many partners have you had?”

“Were they male or female?”

“Did you use protection or any kind of contraceptives?”

Merlin! How embarrassing was it to tell a complete stranger that he’d had unprotected sex with a man old enough to be his father a month and a half ago and that no, he was not on any sort of birth control?

Healer Iriye had hummed and made other such noises. Then she poked and prodded and told him to say, “Ah”. Afterwards, she said she needed to get a urine sample. That was when he knew. She suspected the same thing he did. So with his heart hammering in his chest, he headed down the hall to the bathroom with the small four-ounce cup Healer Iriye had given him. Who knew peeing in a cup could be so nerve-racking?

“Leave the cup in the little cupboard behind the toilet,” she’d said.

Now he was back in the examination room on the cushioned examination table, watching his feet swinging round and round and round as he waited for Healer Iriye. He had to tear his gaze away from his feet before he threw up. If he’d had fingernails before his appointment, they would have been gone by now. The waiting was killing him.

Harry wasn’t sure how long he sat there before the door opened and Healer Keisha Iriye entered.

“Well,” she said as the door closed softly behind her. In her hands was his file. It was open and she was scanning something within it.

Keisha Iriye, fifty years old, but didn’t look a day over twenty-five. Hair blacker than his own was pulled up into a neat chignon. Almond shaped light brown eyes were framed by dark lashes and always had a twinkle to them. Her Asian features were offset by the perfect combination of her tanned-olive complexion. On occasion, there was a lilt of something Other in her voice when she spoke. She was a first generation pureblood. Her half-blood father perished during a boating accident several years back. Her pureblood mother had retired back to Japan the year prior with her new husband to look after her ailing mother. Healer Iriye herself was a primary care healer with a specialized degree in obstetrics and gynecology. At one time, she used to work at Saint Mungo’s, but fifteen years ago, she left to open her own practice. With nearly thirty years under her belt, she was one of the most sought after as well as the most highly regarded Healers in her field.

Setting the file on the desk that had been built into the wall besides the door, Healer Iriye turned towards him with a smile that was supposed to reassure him. “We have your test results,” she announced as she wheeled out a stool from under the desk and sat down. She wheeled the stool over to where he sat on the examination table.

Nodding, Harry gulped. This was it. He felt nauseous with nerves.

“You claimed to have had some suspicions.”

Harry nodded.

“Now, did you take a home test?”

Harry shook his head. There was no way he was going to walk into a Muggle pharmacy and buy one of those. Imagine the looks! The same went for buying one at a wizarding apothecary. It didn‘t matter whether he purchased the test in Diagon, Knockturn, Opulentus or some other wizarding locale. It would be a hundred times worse than wandering into a Muggle store. Not only because of who he was, but because eventually, it would get back to Ginny. Everyone would assume the test was for her -- who in his right mind was suspect the truth? -- and then the shit would really hit the fan. Of course, he could have just made one himself, but that was not going to happen any time soon. He was still horrendous at potions. He’d be more likely to blow the house up. If he would have asked either Hermione or Draco to make the test for him, they would demand answers and he was fresh out of those.

“Okay, well,” Healer Iriye was saying. Her eyes locked with his. Her hands were clasped lightly before her.

The calm she exuded helped to ease the knot in his stomach, but he still felt on the verge of tossing the breakfast he’d somehow been able to keep down that morning. Harry held his breath.

“The tests results came back positive. You are pregnant.” Healer Iriye scanned Harry’s face. Her own was neutral.

The color drained from his face. Harry sat stunned on the examination table. It looked as if his suspicions had been confirmed. Shit, he thought.

+ HARRY POTTER + STRICKEN: THE PRINCIPLES OF LUST +

12 Grimmauld Place - London, England

Harry made his way home in a daze. He could not seem to wrap his mind around the startling bit of news he’d just received. Pregnant. He was pregnant. He was going to have a baby. Dearest Merlin. Not only was he was going to have a baby, but he was going to be the mother. Him! Of all the outrageous things…!

Yes, he’d dreamed of having a family. There weren’t many, whether witch or Muggle, that didn’t think of starting a family at one point or another. In his case, he’d never thought that dream would come true in this particular manner. At the age of eleven when he’d learned that no, he wasn’t a freak but was in fact a wizard, the possibility that if he was strong enough magically, he would be able to get pregnant never crossed his mind. As he’d grown up in a Muggle household and Muggle men could not get pregnant, he’d never thought to consider the idea. Why would he? It wasn’t until this past summer while attending the Ministry’s Midsummer’s Night Ball that he’d learned the scandalous truth.

At first, he thought it was someone’s idea of a sick joke. Even when Hermione confirmed what he’d overheard, Harry still didn’t -- couldn’t believe it was possible. Not even reading every book on the subject that he could get his hand on helped him wrap his mind around the very real fact that wizards could become pregnant just like their female counterparts.

Lost in thought, Harry trudged up the front steps of his house. He went through the motions of unlocking the door and dropping the wards without conscious thought. Pushing the door open, he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. Automatically, the wards and charms dropped back into place. He turned the deadbolt. The sound of the shifting tumblers sounded unnaturally loud.

“Welcome home, Master,” Kreature greeted him when the house-elf appeared before him suddenly.

“Thanks,” Harry mumbled distracted. He removed his heavy fur lined winter cloak, scarf, gloves and hat and tossed them to the house-elf who bowed and vanished, leaving Harry to his overwhelming thoughts. With a heavy sigh, Harry fell back against the door and stared at the plastic tarpaulined hallway.

“The tests results came back positive. You are pregnant,” Healer Iriye’s voice echoed through his head.

“Fuck,” he cursed with feeling as his eyes began to prickle with the beginning of tears. He banged his head against the door. What was he going to do now? “Dammit!”

+ HARRY POTTER + STRICKEN: THE PRINCIPLES OF LUST +

That Night - 12 Grimmauld Place - London, England

Harry sat curled with a large mug of hot chocolate in his newest favorite chair in front of a roaring fire in what had been the men’s parlor at one point. The old women’s parlor was across the hall. There was a plate of untouched saltine crackers along with the unopened letter from Ginny on the table besides him.

Ginny. The thought of his girlfriend brought Harry back to the here and now. Dropping his legs, Harry focused his gaze away from the hypnotic dance of the flames to the letter.

He’d honestly had no plans of telling Ginny about his little rendezvous with Lucius, but everything was different now. Things had changed. Now, he had to tell her. There was no getting around it, not now that he was pregnant. Well, that was not exactly true. He did have other options he could fall back on, but he highly doubted she would believe something as asinine as he being artificially inseminated. It wouldn’t mesh on so many levels. And there was no way he planned to abort the life growing within him. That was the only surety he was confident in voicing. The idea of terminating this unexpected pregnancy made him sick to his stomach. No, he planned to keep this baby.

Setting his cocoa on the table besides his plate of crackers, he picked up the letter. He was almost afraid of what Ginny might have written. It could have been just about anything.

Slitting open the sealed envelope, Harry pulled out a single tri-folded sheet of parchment. Setting the envelope aside, Harry unfolded the letter and started to read.

Harry~

I did something really, really stupid.

Harry frowned.

I was upset when you didn’t show up in Hogsmeade on Valentine’s Day as we‘d planned back in September. I sat in Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop alone among all the other couples waiting for you. I sat there for three hours sipping tea and getting several confetti showers before I realized that you weren’t coming. I was so upset and embarrassed and ready to Avada Kedarva your sorry ass into the next millennium.

Harry huffed. Oh, yes. Blame it all on him. Everything was his fault. He knew he had a tendency to act and think later, but she was the one who’d started hurling accusations at him after reading Skeeter‘s article about his “illicit affair” with Draco Malfoy. She was the one who told him to “fuck off”. She was the one who told him not to bother showing his face anywhere near her ever again. She was the one who told him to forget about Valentine’s Day. If she’d changed her mind, she should have said something. He wasn‘t a mind reader.

Instead, I went to the Room of Requirements and blew some stuff up. That’s where Seamus found me hours later just before curfew. There isn’t any way to sugarcoat this, so I’ll just come right out and say it. I kissed him. Or he kissed me. I really have no idea which. All I know is that one minute I was telling him what an ungrateful ass you were, the next I was crying and he was holding me and then -- well, we were kissing and then-

Harry tossed the letter aside as if burned. Breathing heavily, his pulse racing, he stared down at it. The light from the fire both highlighted the letter and threw it into shadow. “Well fuck,” he whispered as the sting of tears prickled his eyes.

Well, he certainty didn’t have to worry about Ginny’s reaction to his infidelity now did he? What started out as laughter that was tinged with a hint of madness turned into quiet sobbing as Harry sat curled up on the armchair in front of a crackling fire.

He had no idea why he was even crying. It certainly wasn’t over finding out his girlfriend had slept with another man because that would be hypocritical as he’d done the very same thing. The only difference being she hadn’t ended up pregnant. Maybe he was crying because this was irrefutable proof that things between them really were over. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“‘-and I- / I took the one less traveled by’,” Harry cried softly.

+ HARRY POTTER + STRICKEN: THE PRINCIPLES OF LUST +

23^rd February - 12 Grimmauld Place - London, England

Seven days had since passed and the fact that he was not only expecting his first child, but that he was the one carrying said child still hadn’t sunk in. For the love of Merlin, he was nearly eight weeks pregnant! Even taking into account all the prenatal nutrient and vitamin potions and whatnot he had to take every day did not make it real. Nor did the fact that he had to see Healer Iriye once a month until he was about twelve weeks along and then it increased to twice until he entered his third trimester where he would see her practically everyday until the baby was born.

Baby. What a surreal mind trip.

Other than Kreature, Harry hadn’t informed anyone of his new status. As he wasn’t showing, yet, he felt he had plenty of time in which to drop the bombshell. Besides, Ron was away at Auror Academy. Hermione had chosen to return to school in order to take her NEWTs. Ginny…

With a heavy sigh, Harry propped his head in the palm of his hand and stared blankly across the kitchen.

He had yet to write back to Ginny. She was probably anxious about his reaction.

“If only she knew,” he whispered with a laugh that was anything but amused.

Harry sighed and tried focusing on his breakfast that consisted of dry toast. It was one of the only solid foods he could keep down. But his mind kept wandering. This time it wandered to the father of his baby.

He had to tell Lucius about the baby first and foremost. There was no question about that. The baby was just as much Lucius’ as it was Harry’s. He just wasn’t sure how Lucius would take the news. There were so many uncertainties.

With a curse, Harry dropped the piece of toast he’d shredded into crumbs back onto his plate and pushed the plate aside. Standing up, he stepped over the bench and picked his way up to the Black family library that was doing duty as both library as well as his office; it was one of the only rooms in the house that didn’t need anything more than a good spit and polish.

Not only did he have to worry about Lucius’ reactions, but what about Draco? How was he supposed to tell Draco that he was pregnant with his little brother or sister? Harry snorted. Yeah. That’ll go over well. Draco was going to kill him for sleeping with his father.

Harry sat at the desk and pulled out a piece of parchment, grabbed a quill and a bottle of ink. Unstoppering the ink square glass vial, he dipped the tip of his quill into the black ink, tapped the side of the quill gently against the rim to release the excess ink and brought it to the parchment.

“‘Ginny~’,” he wrote.

Halting, Harry stared blankly across the room.

After the confessions were made to the people he wanted to inform, what was he supposed to do then? There was no way in hell he was staying in England let alone Britain during his pregnancy. He was already treated as if he were the Second Coming of Jesus Christ. The last thing he wanted was to become the next Bradgelina. He would be trapped inside his own house as a virtual prisoner. Just leaving the house to get some fresh air would put both him and his baby in danger. Besides, with all the renovations going on, all the dust and whatnot floating around could not be healthy. For the safety of his unborn child as well as himself, he had to leave.

The problem with that being: how was he supposed to take a long leave of absence from the UK without mentioning the reason why? People would demand to know -- even if it wasn’t any of their business.

Dipping the tip of the quill into the ink once more, he tapped the black grip against the rim of the glass bottle and then set the steel tip against the parchment. He paused and stared blankly back across the room.

Well, it wasn’t as if he had to tell them the real reason. Not yet anyway. He could just tell them he was going backpacking across Europe. It was a common enough occurrence. And it wasn’t as if it would be a total lie. It was an idea he’d been playing with for some time now in order to get away from the suffocating press of the paparazzi that did not believe in granting him a private life.

But where would he go? According to his accounts manager at Gringotts, he had inherited properties all over the world: a villa in Italy; a château, winery and vineyard in France; some sort of beach house in Greece and a hunting lodge in Spain. He could go anywhere he wanted and just disappear for the next thirty-two weeks. That actually didn’t sound like a bad idea. Just fall off the map.

Before that could happen, though, he had some confessions to make.

Harry heaved a heavy sigh.

Shaking himself, he refocused on the letter he had to write to Ginny that would effectively end their relationship.

+ HARRY POTTER + STRICKEN: THE PRINCIPLES OF LUST +

The Next Morning - 24^th February - Corfield Manor - Shropshire, England

Because of the extensive damage done to Hogwarts during the Final Battle, many feared Europe’s oldest wizarding school would not be able to welcome students the coming school year. It would be a first since its founding. There was talk of shipping students to other wizarding institutions, such as Beauxbatons or Durmstrang. Others wanted to home school their children. Some even suggested holding classes at the Ministry like the adult wizarding classes that were held during the evenings. Or possibly finding another suitable temporary replacement.

Months passed.

More months passed.

It soon became apparent that the shattered Ministry had tabled any motions having to do with the ancient wizarding school, so McGonagall and the remaining Hogwarts staff banded together and decided that if the Ministry was not going to do something, they would.

And they did.

With the help of witches and wizards all over the world who volunteered their time and skills or opened their coin purses, by the time September 1st rolled around, Hogwarts was ready once again to open its doors to students.

McGonagall, who had been appointed to the Headmaster’s position by her colleagues, issued invitations to all students who’d had their studies interrupted the previous school year. Many accepted. Others did not. One of those who chose not to return was Draco Malfoy.

After discussing his options with his parents, Draco decided to hire tutors in preparation for taking his NEWTs. Despite how sullied the Malfoy name became during the war, his father still had connections. Of course, having the Savior himself vouch for not only Draco, but for both his mother as well as his father, helped to reestablish said connections. Because his father had been able to hire nobody but the best of the best, Draco’s studies were going well. Come June, Draco was satisfied he would be receiving Outstanding on all of his NEWT examinations.

Currently, Draco was taking a much-needed break from his studies in order to escort his father back to Malfoy Manor.

With his hands clasped behind his back, Draco approached the fireplace in the quarters his father had been granted the use of during his stay. The hearth was cold, but the ashes still glowed faintly. But what captured Draco’s attention was the painting hanging above the fireplace. It appeared to be some sort of battle. He was stretching out a hand towards it when movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.

Swinging about, wand in his hand, Draco came face to face with a cloaked figure standing in the threshold between his father’s quarters and the patio beyond.

“Stop right where you are! Who are you?” Draco demanded. “What are you doing here?” Draco tensed when the figure took a step forward. “Don’t come any closer,” he barked.

The figure’s hands rose slowly and deliberately. He -- for lack of a better pronoun -- showed Draco that his hands were empty. That Draco had nothing to fear from him. The hands rose to the hood of the black cloak and pulled the hood down to reveal a mop of black hair. The head lifted.

Draco breathed a sigh of relief and lowered his wand. “By Merlin,” he breathed a sigh. “You nearly gave me a heart attack Potter.”

“Sorry,” Harry apologized with a sheepish smile. “I hadn’t realized you were here. I actually came to speak to your father about -- about something.”

Draco cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? Do tell,” he prodded. He sat as demurely as he could in the armchair behind him and crossed his legs. “What sort of business do you have with my father?” he asked after a lengthy silence in which Harry fidgeted as if he were antsy -- or nervous. Draco tilted his head. His forehead creased in thought. For what possible reason could Harry have to feel nervous?

“It’s -- a private matter,” Harry stuttered, scratching the back of his head.

Before Draco could say anything in response, the door on the far side of the chamber opened and his father emerged with a forest green satin drawstring bag that Draco knew held his father’s extensive collection of toiletries.

“Ah! Mr. Potter,” Lucius greeted the newcomer as he stepped into the chamber from the en suite bathroom. “I thought that was you I heard.”

At the sound of the Malfoy Lord’s voice, Harry spun around. The cloak he wore flared about him. At the sight of Lucius, his tanned complexion grew a rosy hue and he dropped his gaze. “Lu -- Mr. Malfoy,” he greeted in return with a dip of his head.

Draco’s frown deepened. “Father,” he said, keeping his blue-gray eyes on his friend though he was speaking to his father, “Harry here claims to have some sort of -- business he would like to discuss with you.”

Lucius cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? Oh, yes. That is right.”

Draco watched his father as the shock at the sight of Harry turned to confusion before turning into amusement. There was something else there as well glittering in those blue-gray eyes that Draco had inherited. If it were anybody else, Draco would say it was mischievousness.

“We ran into one another at Lord Corfield’s ball last month,” Lucius explained, “and ended up getting into a lengthy discussion about investments and the like.”

Harry nodded his head eagerly.

“I offered my -- expertise to Mr. Potter should it ever be required.”

For some reason, Harry blushed at that. The sight had Draco frowning harder. He turned his gaze from his father to Harry and back. Just what was going on here? It was obvious that he was missing something.

“If you have a few moments, Lu -- Mr. Malfoy, I would like to speak to you about some of those very -- things,” Harry was saying.

Lucius inclined his head.

Draco looked sharply at his friend. That was the second time Harry caught himself from speaking “Lucius” instead of “Mr. Malfoy”. For the entire seven years that he has known Harry, Draco had never once heard Harry refer to his father by his given name. What changed?

“Of course, Harry.”

Draco’s head snapped around. This time, he was gapping at his father. Since when had his father taken to call Harry by his given name? Lucius only bestowed that honor to a very select few.

Lucius strode towards his trunk that was sitting open perpendicular to the open and empty chiffrobe and placed his toiletry bag within.

“Are you moving?” Harry inquired.

Draco’s chest swelled with pride. “My parents have decided to give their marriage a second try,” he admitted smugly.

“Oh…Is that so? That’s…that’s -- good.”

“Isn’t it?”

The grin Harry forced onto his face wavered around the edges and did not quite reach his eyes. “I’m -- happy to hear that. I hope everything works out for you and Mrs. Malfoy, sir,” Harry said to Lucius with a nod of his head.

Lucius returned Harry nod with one of his own.

Lost amidst his exultation over what he considered a monumental victory, Draco took Harry’s congratulations at face value and thus missed the crestfallen expression on Harry‘s face, the pain and confusion in his eyes and the sudden hesitation. “I’m sure it will,” Draco was saying in his usual spoiled Pureblood haughty tone, oblivious to his friend’s abrupt disconsolation. “You know, I was the one who-”

“Enough Draco. Harry is no longer here to bear witness to your gloating and I for one am bored to death of hearing it.”

Draco was left blinking at the empty spot where Harry had been standing not more than a moment before. “Where did he go?” He glanced around the bedchamber and did not see his friend.

“Left.”

“He left? But -- but why?” Draco practically whined.

“Who knows Draco,” Lucius said, turning away from his son and heading back towards the bathroom. “Maybe he was tired of hearing you bragging as if you were some ill-mannered Weasley. Or it could be your whining as if you were still a child.”

Draco flushed in embarrassment.

“Now why don’t you do something useful and go see if you can find Lord Corfield and tell him I am just about ready to leave.”

“But that’s servants’ stuff,” Draco protested.

“Yes,” Lucius agreed from the confines of the bathroom, “and at the moment that means you.”

Scoffing at the iniquitous order, Draco marched out of his father’s quarters in search of the elusive Lord Byron Corfield.

Once his son left, Lucius reappeared in the doorway of the gleaming white marble and chrome bathroom with a frown on his face. He gazed out the closed French doors and out over the patio that was coated with a light dusting of snow. There were a single set of overlapping footprints in the snow approaching and departing from the room.

Whatever it was Harry had wanted to speak to him about obviously had nothing to do with investments, which Lucius actually could help Harry with if the younger man so choose. Lucius had a feeling whatever brought Harry back to Corfield Manor in search of him was more serious and more personal. Had Harry been scared off by Draco’s presence or by the news that Lucius was getting back together with his estranged wife? About what had Harry wanted to speak to him?

+ HARRY POTTER + STRICKEN: THE PRINCIPLES OF LUST +

Half an Hour Later - 12 Grimmauld Place - London, England

It seemed to take considerably more time to return home than it had to travel to Corfield Manor. When he did arrive back home, Kreature was waiting to take his cloak, hat, gloves and scarf like usual and to announce that lunch would be ready shortly. Even though Harry had no appetite, he knew he had to eat. There was more than just him to think about now.

Exhausted and confused, Harry trudged upstairs passed the sealed off construction site to the old men’s parlor that was fast becoming his favorite room in the house. Flopping down into the armchair in front of a roaring fire, he leaned his head back against the back of the plush velvet seat with a curse and stared blankly up at the ceiling as his mind worked overtime.

This was not something for which he had created contingency plans. It hadn’t once crossed his mind that Lucius would get back together with Narcissa. Most couples that separated usually went on to either get divorced or get their marriage annulled. As Purebloods, Harry supposed he should have known better. He was not sure if Purebloods did divorces. Such an atrocity would probably lead to a shunning. That was nothing short of a death sentence for a Pureblood. No wonder Draco had been so overjoyed. But while he was happy for the Malfoys, it left him in a bit of a bind.

What was he supposed to do now that Lucius was getting back together with Narcissa? The addition of Narcissa into the picture complicated matters. Was Harry supposed to just ignore Narcissa’s presence and tell Lucius about the baby anyway?

Harry was no fool. There was no guarantee Lucius would accept let alone acknowledge having any part in creating the life currently growing and developing within Harry. Either way, as the father, Lucius had the right to know about the baby. What Lucius did with that knowledge afterwards was his choice.

Even if Lucius were to take responsibility of being a father to Harry’s baby, chances were good that Lucius would not acknowledge it publicly. Their child would not -- could not actually -- be named as a Malfoy heir, not even if something were to happen to Draco. Nor would the child be allowed to take the Malfoy name. This was because as he and Lucius were not married, any children they had would be considered illegitimate. Rules of Pureblood society. Stupid. Asinine. Factual. But Harry was okay with that. Thanks to his parents as well as his godfather, his child and any future children he had would be set financially for the rest of their lives. What he wanted was not Lucius’ money, but a father for his child.

As uncertain as Lucius’ reaction to the news was, there was more of a chance of Lucius accepting and acknowledging their child than there was of Narcissa doing so. And who could blame her? There weren’t many who would be willing to open their homes, arms or hearts to their spouse’s love child. Yes, technically, Lucius and Narcissa had been separated, but would that make any difference? Would Narcissa consider her husband’s one night stand with Harry an act of infidelity? Harry really did not want to be the cause of Lucius and Narcissa’s marriage falling apart.

Harry dropped his head into his hands.

He was so confused! What should he do?

“Lunch is ready Master,” came the sudden announcement.

Sighing, Harry sat up. “Thanks, Kreature.”

Bowing, Kreature vanished with a pop.

As Harry made his way down to the kitchen via the servant’s stairway, he pondered the conundrum of how to tell Lucius of the baby without it causing any sort of friction between Lucius and Narcissa whose relationship was already on tenterhooks.

His head was beginning to hurt.

What he really needed was to get away for a while and think, or better yet, not think. Isn’t that what writers suffering from writer’s block are said to do? To step away from that which was giving them so much grief and do something else? That sounded like a very good idea at the moment. Just forget everything that has happened these past couple of months. Maybe then, he could tackle what to do with a clear mind. Hopefully then he’d have some idea of just what he was going to do because at the moment he was fresh out of answers.

+ HARRY POTTER + STRICKEN: THE PRINCIPLES OF LUST +

Same Time - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry - Gryffindor Common Room

In the Gryffindor common room, Ginerva Weasley was sitting at the small table beneath the room’s sole window. Like many of her fellow seventh years, and the small group of so-called “eight years”, she was using her free period to revise for yet another mock NEWT examination in Transfiguration the next day. The day following there was one in Potions. The day after that there was one in Herbology.

“It’s a conspiracy I tell ya,” Ginny overheard a fellow Gryffindor seventh year grumble.

Hermione’s opinion on the matter was well known and criticized by all the seventh and eighth years in all four houses; she thought everyone was over-exaggerating. Ginny couldn’t agree less with her future sister-in-law. It was either one giant conspiracy or one hell of a coincidence that all the professors scheduled mock NEWT examinations at practically the same time and in the same order as they would be given at the end of the school year.

The surface of the table Ginny was sitting at was hidden beneath a carpet of parchment, quills, ink and books.

It hadn’t been the strap but the bottom of her book bag that tore earlier under the enormous weight and that was even after Hermione helped her with an expansion charm.

Groaning, she laid her quill down on the sheet of parchment she’d been taking notes on and sat back, rubbing her aching eyes.

This was insane.

Studying was useless. She wasn’t retaining any of the information. In one ear and out the other. At this point, she was just wasting parchment and ink. Even as a distraction tool, studying was turning out to be a total failure. It was difficult to memorize how to change fire to ice, which was apparently not the same thing as freezing the fire, and ice into flame, which did not refer to using fire to melt the ice, when her mind was already distracted.

A tapping sound distracted her from her thoughts. Looking about for the source of said noise, Ginny noted the tawny owl at the common room window. She frowned. A quick tempus showed her that her free period was nearly finished. It was just about time for lunch. Usually post arrives at breakfast. It was unusual to receive mail any other time. It wasn’t unheard over, but it was unusual.

Pushing away from the table, she stood up, grabbed her wand and rounded the table to the window. With a flick of her wand and a mumbled spell, the window vanished and in flew the owl.

As a sea of protests rose, Ginny shivered violently as a shower of snow rained down upon her and a wicked wind whipped about the common room, scattering papers about and fanning tempers already on the verge of snapping. The roaring fire flickered and came close to going out.

The owl circled about the common room. As it circled back, it dropped an envelope on top of the mountain of books and whatnot on the table she’d commandeered before vanishing out into the below freezing winter afternoon. Ginny canceled the spell that’d vanished the window to an enthusiastic round of applause.

Shivering from the lingering chill, Ginny picked up the envelope. Her name was scrawled on the front in familiar handwriting. It was from Harry.

Gathering her things, she slung her book bag over her shoulder and proceeded up to her dormitory for some privacy. Making sure the door was shut securely behind her; Ginny crossed the circular chamber towards her bed. Dumping everything but the letter on the floor, Ginny took a seat on her bed, bouncing lightly on the mattress. Her hands were trembling she realized as she stared down at the crème colored envelope.

She found herself hesitant to open let alone read the letter. There was no telling what Harry had written. It could be good news. It could be bad news. It could be a mixture of the two. The fact that it hadn’t been sent via Howler as part of her had been expecting, given his legendary temper, had to mean Harry had chosen to forgive her indiscretion, right? The optimism that thought brought died as quickly as it was born. Just because it didn’t come in the form of a Howler, didn’t mean Harry wasn’t going to chew her out. Harry did whatever he could to preserve some semblance of privacy nowadays given his heightened celebrity status. And sending a Howler would undo that. The last thing either of them wanted was for their relationship woes to be plastered on the front page of the Daily Prophet. Again. That was not to say that had their positions been reversed, she wouldn’t have sent a Howler because she would have. Screw the Daily Prophet. If a boyfriend of hers couldn’t remember which port to dock his ship in then she damn well was going to make sure the whole world knew. Embarrass her will he? Well then, fuck him and the hippogriff he rode in on.

Well, she thought taking a deep breath. There was only one way to find out whether she was still engaged to be engaged or newly single. Sliding a finger under the flap of the envelope, she tore open the top of the envelope and pulled out a single folded sheet of parchment. She couldn’t seem to stop her hands from trembling or her pulse from racing.

After the first read through, despite the sting of tears in her eyes and the ache in her heart, Ginny hadn’t a clue what she’d just read. It was all gibberish, much like when she’d been trying to study earlier but had been too distracted to retain anything. This was much the same.

After the second read through, Ginny understood that Harry wasn’t angry with her for cheating on him.

During the third read through, Ginny read something about something being hypocritical. She didn’t understand what Harry was trying to say. Why was Harry calling himself a hypocrite? And what was this about a pot and a kettle? She was starting to think that being alone in that house with only a house-elf for company was causing her boyfriend to go mad. She forced herself to read the letter once more.

That was when Ginny finally got it. What had once been gibberish was starting to form letters. Those letters were forming words and those words were turning into sentences that she could read, but she wished it hadn’t. She didn’t want to understand what Harry was saying. She didn’t want to read his confession. She didn’t want to know that Harry, her Harry, had cheated on her and with Lucius “I’m-the-Dark-Lord’s-Right-Hand-Man” Malfoy.

No. No! It had to be wrong. She had to have read it wrong. Maybe the letter wasn’t even from Harry. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t because…because….

Ginny dropped her face into her hands as sobs racked her tall, thin frame. The letter slipped from between her fingers and fluttered to the floor, half hidden beneath her small bedside dresser. Her heartbroken cries filled the deserted seventh year girls’ dormitory as she curled up on her side in the middle of her bed.

The bedside light illuminated a single paragraph of the letter.

-much I love you. Nothing will ever change that. I would love nothing more than to grow old with you besides me as we watch our children and our children’s children and our children’s children’s children’s grow up and have children of their own. I want to wake up each morning with you besides me and fall asleep the same way. I want that more than anything. And that’s why I think the both of us needs to take a deep breath and step back. We’re moving too fast. Doing too much too soon. If the future we envision for the both of us is meant to be, then it’ll happen. We have all the time in the world. Until then, I hope we can at least be friends. I’d rather consider you my friend than nothing at all.

In the meantime, I plan to do some traveling around Europe. Maybe go to Asia, Africa, Australia. Hell, I might just make a stop on all seven continents. If you ask nicely, I might even bring you back a souvenir! I’m not sure where I’m going to go or how long I plan to be gone, but I’ll keep in touch. Promise.

Give my love to Hermione and Ron.

Love,

Harry

+ HARRY POTTER + STRICKEN: THE PRINCIPLES OF LUST +

This was where Hermione found Ginny five minutes later. Cautiously, she opened the door and stuck her head of brown curls into the chamber. She found Ginny lying in bed with her back to the door. “Gin?” she called softly so as not to frighten her future sister-in-law. “Lunchtime. Coming? Or are you not feeling up to it? Should I have something-?”

Shaking her head, Ginny sat up and swung around, dropping her legs to the floor. “No. I’m coming.”

Hermione took in the other girl’s state and realized instantly that she’d been crying. “Oh, Ginny.” Pushing the door open wider, she stepped into the chamber and closed the door behind her. Crossing the otherwise empty chamber, Hermione sat down on the bed besides Ginny. “What happened?”

Sobbing, Ginny shook her head. “Harry. He -- he-”

“What about Harry?”

“He broke up with me,” Ginny explained with a sob that she was barely to suppress. As it was, tears filled her eyes. She went on to explain about the letter Harry sent her. Of course, she left out several key facts like Harry sleeping with Lucius Malfoy. That was not something anybody else needed to know at the moment.

“Oh, Ginny. I’m so sorry.” Hermione pulled Ginny into a hug.

Ginny returned the gesture before gently pulling away. “It’s okay,” she admitted with a watery smile. “Really.”

Hermione frowned as if she didn’t believe her.

Standing up, Ginny turned to face her brother’s girlfriend. “Come on. I’m starving.” Strangely enough, she was. After the one-two punch courtesy of her now ex-boyfriend Harry Potter, she would have thought she wouldn’t have an appetite. But as it was, it felt as if she could eat an entire hippogriff.

As she turned to exit the dormitory, Hermione called after her. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Ginny paused with a hand on the door handle. She smiled at Hermione over her shoulder and nodded. “Yes. I am.” Despite what Hermione seemed to believe, it wasn’t a lie. “But I have a feeling Harry won’t be after you and Ron get your hands on him.”

“I think Harry made a reasonable argument,” Hermione said. “Granted-”

“No,” Ginny interrupted as she climbed out of the portrait hole. “Well, yes, but that wasn’t what I was talking about.”

“Oh? Then what-?”

“Harry’s leaving,” Ginny blurted causing her to wince. She hadn’t meant it to come out like that, but the damage was done.

“What?!”

Ginny halted her descent and turned to look up at Hermione who had stopped cold at the confession several steps behind her. She sighed. “Come on. Let’s go down to the kitchens. I’ll tell you what Harry said.”

Annoyed, Hermione marched behind Ginny passed the Great Hall and down into the dungeons where the kitchens were. Harry had better have a good explanation for this, she fumed.

+ TBC +

A/N: There you have it mes amis. Leave a review to let me know what you think. Please and thank you. And no, Ginny will not become some psychotic psychopath hell-bent on revenge. If she were a Black instead of a Weasley, then she’d go postal. The Blacks, like the Gaunts, are all a bit insane. That’s what generations of inbreeding will do to you. The Weasleys don’t have that problem as far as I know. Either way, she’ll mourn what was and what could have been and then move on -- maybe.

REVIEW!
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Stricken: The Principles of Lust