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What it comes down to	By : melinda1293 Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 115219 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 7
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 20. Back on His Back

“Oh, bollocks,” Harry mumbled when he opened his eyes to see Madame Pomfrey leaning over him.
“Yes, I believe those were my words exactly when I arrived here to find you unconscious and dripping blood on the floor…again,” she replied sarcastically. “I’m certain I’ve warned you to take care of yourself, Mr. Potter. I have already had words with Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley for letting you get into this state again,” she went on sternly, pursing her lips. “My patience is wearing thin, Harry.”
“’Msorry,” he apologized, his words slurring together. It hurt to breathe, and his throat ached, feeling raw from what Harry was sure was his attempt to cough up his own lung in the foyer.
Harry remembered that. He remembered Snape and Apparating back to Grimmauld Place. He remembered Hermione yelling for Dobby, and then nothing. He wondered if that had been hours ago now or days.
“I don’t think you’re sorry at all, but it’s no matter, because I intend to sedate you until I’m sure you’ve recovered your health sufficiently.”
“No…please, Madame Pomfrey,” he pleaded. “Please don’t do that.”
“You’ve left me no choice, really. I cannot take you to the infirmary, and I can’t stay here round the clock, either, to ensure you don’t do anything even more foolish,” she admonished, glaring at him. “You were not at all ready for apparition, Harry. You’ve torn some things inside, and I need to give you a potion to heal it. And believe me, while it’s doing its work, you won’t want to be conscious. It’s going to feel like all your insides are burning while it first cauterizes the wounds as it travels through your body, and then sets about healing them. It’s a very powerful potion.”
Harry winced at her words. It sounded terribly unpleasant, but he drew in a painful breath, opening his mouth to protest again, anyway.
“It’s not up for debate, Potter,” she snapped angrily before he could say anything. “I’ll stun you first if I must.”
He scowled at her, and she glared back sternly. She wasn’t even remotely intimidated by him. Of course, he was flat on his back, again. Plus, she knew better than he what his limitations were. Harry was hardly in a position to refuse, and she obviously meant every word. The healer would indeed stun him to gain his cooperation if she had to. He was sure of it. It was clear in the steely glint of her eyes, which were boring into his, and in the stubborn set of her jaw. He’d had plenty enough dealings with this witch to know when she meant business. Still, he had no desire to spend any more time tied to this bed. He loathed the idea.
“Was it worth it, Harry?” she asked him then, ending their staring contest to sigh heavily.
Considering her for a moment, he finally nodded his head. It was, even though every breath he took rattled in his chest and sent hot knives poking through his ribs, even though he tasted the slightly coppery tinge of blood in his mouth whenever he swallowed. It was worth it. He’d passed the test. He’d come face to face with Snape and let him go, despite the fact that he still detested the man.
Harry had needed to face him. He needed to know if he could still be Harry after he saw him. He needed to get answers and get back to finishing the task Dumbledore started. He had to get back control of his life, to pull himself back together and face his fears, or he might as well have stayed at Malfoy Manor forever.
“That’s what I thought.”
She looked exasperated as she poured out a measure of deep green liquid for him to swallow.
“You’d do it again tomorrow if I didn’t strap you down to this bed, wouldn’t you?” she asked, though she really didn’t need a response from him. She was completely right and they both knew it. He might as well save his breath trying to deny it.
Staring up at her, his eyes pleaded with her, hoping she’d take pity on him, but he found her completely unsympathetic. She was not at all swayed by his attempt to look contrite. Finally opening his mouth in defeat, Harry let her tip the contents down his throat. There was no way he was going to win this one. He’d done what he had to do, and now he had to face the consequences.
“That one’s the sedative,” she told him, nodding as he swallowed it down. “I’ll finish my diagnostic on you before giving you the other. Goodnight, Harry,” she said as he blinked slowly, trying and failing to hold his eyes open.
“I’ll see you in a couple of days,” he heard her say before he was swallowed up in blackness.

He woke up in excruciating pain, his body appearing to roar suddenly, irresistibly back into consciousness. Perhaps Ron and Hermione were late giving him another dose of the sedative, or maybe it just couldn’t hold him under in this much pain. Harry’s whole body felt like it was burning as he opened his mouth to scream. He was sure fire would be pouring from his lungs, smoke billowing out his mouth and nostrils. He felt like he could smell his own charred flesh as the potion coursed through him. The only sound that came out, though, was a strangled, pitiful cry. Not the screaming he was trying for, not the fire he was sure was raging in him. Yet even the weak sound he managed was enough to leave him breathless and caused the flames to burn hotter.
Holy shit, he hurt! Ron or Hermione couldn’t get the sedative down him fast enough, as far as Harry was concerned. Christ, the Cruciatus didn’t hurt this much! Madame Pomfrey must surely have been furious with him to inflict this kind of unbearable pain on him, he decided. She truly was a sadist. Bloody hell! He’d said he was sorry, hadn’t he?
He tried to sit up. He tried to open his eyes, but he couldn’t move as he continued to whimper in pain. Harry didn’t know if she really had strapped him down as she had threatened, or if he was in a body-bind curse, or if the sedative had simply deadened his limbs and numbed his body too much for him to move them.
Maybe Hermione threw a damn calming potion into the cocktail of drugs in his system, so he could lie here calmly and not disturb anybody if he woke up while he was being burned alive from the inside. He didn’t know, and it probably wasn’t fair to think that about her, but he really didn’t care right now. Harry only knew he needed water, lots of water. He needed to extinguish the fire searing his insides before he burst into flames and turned to ash on the bed.
“Hold on, Harry,” he heard Hermione’s voice telling him from somewhere close by.
His whimpering increased in his desperation, urging her, pleading with her. Maybe he’d apologize to her for his derogatory thoughts if she would just hurry.
He felt the cool liquid of the sedative on his tongue. Desperate for the pain to end, he swallowed eagerly, gratefully. Mercifully, it did, dragging him swiftly back down into the nothingness.

He woke again to find Madame Pomfrey back hovering over him. He was drifting somewhere between dreams and reality, still not fully conscious. He thought maybe she was a dream, or possibly a nightmare. He was nearly terrified to see her; afraid of what she had planned next for him. His body was tingling all over now, almost pleasantly, in fact.
Slowly blinking in the daylight, Harry tried to fight against the heaviness of his eyelids as they started to droop closed again.
“Better?” she asked him.
He attempted to nod, but found he still couldn’t move his body. He tried opening his mouth to speak, but that wasn’t working well, either. He wondered if he really was in a dream and how long he’d been out.
“The worst is over,” she assured him. “It should be working to heal you now. You need another dose of the sedative, though.”
Even though he didn’t know if she was real, he tried to shake his head. He didn’t think he’d managed it, but she seemed to know that he was trying to refuse again, just the same.
“You may feel all right now, but the healing effect is almost as bad. It’s going to swing you around completely the other way if you’re awake for it,” she warned him as a sheen of sweat suddenly broke out over him.
“The pleasure will start to build until your whole body is vibrating with it, until it’s so intense it will drive you mad, like an itch you can’t scratch,” she explained.
Harry could already feel it happening. The sensation of floating, of near weightlessness, and the pleasant tingling was turning over to constant humming under his skin now. It was vibrating all his nerve endings and making him feel flush. He felt electrically charged. He could feel it gathering in his loins like a lightning rod as his body began to spiral rapidly upwards.
Managing to open his mouth then, he started to pant like a dog in the hot sunshine. His heart pounded at the exquisite new fire burning through him. All his synapses seemed to be firing simultaneously, making his whole body throb. He was hardening painfully, so that he already wanted to scream for relief. His eyelids peeled back finally to stare wide-eyed at her.
Like an itch? he thought incredulously, staring up at her. Had she ever taken this shit? Harry was in complete ecstasy, delirious with it. His body was hovering near orgasm, yet not quite able to achieve it. He felt utterly mad with desire and terrified at the same time.
It reminded him too much of the effects of the potion Bellatrix had forced on him in the dungeon. Feeling certain that if he could have seen the potion Madame Pomfrey had given him, it would’ve been billowing with that same telltale bluish smoke.
This was a nightmare. Harry was sure of it now. He started to panic then.
Frightened sounds were coming from him between his continued panting. Harry could hear them, though they sounded like moans of pleasure to his ears, too, a mewling that begged both for it to stop and continue. Dear God! Her cruelty knew no bounds! This was an agony worse than the flames, he thought, as tears began to leak from his eyes.
Take it away! Make it stop! Please let this be a nightmare. Wake up! Wake up! he urged himself, though he feared now that he already was.
“Yes,” she said knowingly, “see what I mean? Take this then.”
She offered him the dose of sedative. Harry didn’t hesitate to swallow it down, desperate to return to the safety of the blackness.

He hadn’t even opened his eyes the next time he swam up out of the darkness before he realized she was there. He knew it wasn’t Ron or Hermione, though she hadn’t yet said a word. Harry kept his eyes closed because he didn’t want to see her. The fire and the tingling were completely gone from his body now, leaving him with only the numbness and heaviness in his limbs.
He knew the healer hadn’t been deliberately malicious. She really was trying to help him, he understood that, but this was a case where the cure was most definitely worse than the disease. He was sure she didn’t realize how the potion would affect his rattled brains, but it didn’t stop him from feeling furious with her, just the same.
The horrors the potions had produced in him were still too fresh in his mind for him to feel particularly solicitous towards her. Harry still couldn’t move, and that made him angry, too, because he wanted to get the hell off this bed and out of her reach.
“You’re much better today, Harry,” Madame Pomfrey announced, though Harry tried to ignore her, feeling churlish as he feigned sleep. She wasn’t fooled, however.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized at his continued silence.
There was resignation in her voice, as if this were difficult for her, he thought with mild incredulity.
“I want another day from you before I release you. You still have that slight fever. I’m hoping we can get rid of it with another day or so of rest.”
Hearing the frustration in her voice as she slid another spoonful into his mouth, Harry didn’t even try to resist her. He just wanted this to be over, and he might as well be asleep as awake and unable to move, he decided. If he still had the fever, then the fire hadn’t burn away the Dementor inside him. It hadn’t killed the parasite if his body was still fighting against it.
Being trapped awake in the numbness would surely make him go insane; so he bowed willingly into the familiar darkness once again. He was happy to be leaving her behind this time, instead of trying to cling to consciousness.

His eyes slid open, or at least Harry thought they were open. It was dark, but he was blinking, so he must be awake, he reasoned groggily. Warm and still slightly numb, his body felt heavy from so much sedation and oddly weightless at the same time. Continuing to blink back the fingers of grey fog lingering in his peripherals, he hovered in a state that was not quite conscious, yet not unconscious either, dipping in and out of the blackness for a length of time like a cork bobbing in water. Harry had no idea how long since their trip into the forest, how many days he’d lain on this bed.
He could hear sounds when he broke the surface, fading in and out with the grayness, like the volume being turned up and down on the telly, though it wasn’t exactly conversation, or not entirely. It was something else, but he couldn’t say what with any certainty. Harry couldn’t make sense of it before it was broken by the darkness again. It was pleasant, though, like sounds of contentment; like secret whisperings, yet it also made him feel tiny prickles of foreboding at the same time. It was some unnamed fear that was bubbling in his subconscious, the sounds confusing him with their strange duality.
Harry was hallucinating again from the drugs, like before, when Ginny was beside him, he surmised as he bobbed along, drifting between sleep and dreams.
Then he felt her, the dream Ginny that wasn’t. He felt her brush against his numb side, disturbing the hairs on his arms like the rustling of a breeze against his skin. He closed his eyes again at the feeling of her so near him, happy to stay asleep here with her and pretend.
“Mmm….don’t stop,” she whispered into the darkness. In a voice that wasn’t Ginny’s, with another, firmer brush against his side. “Yeesss,” she sighed, “please,” and then more sounds again, those terrible sounds.
Harry knew what they were then, the realization of what he was hearing suddenly dawning on him. It plunged him straight into the dungeons, into hell, where the other person who wasn’t Ginny lived. It was as if he’d sunk right through the mattress. His body now heavy as a stone, it dragged him down to land on the table in the torture room. Harry began to struggle, but his arms and legs were strapped down again. He was and unable to move while she loomed over him.
He’d been dropped into a nightmare, his veins filling with icy cold terror as his eyes traveled over her familiar black hair, that hated face, and those mad eyes, the dreaded curl of her lip as she regarded him. His heart launched itself into his throat, blocking the scream that was trying to get out at the horror of finding himself back with her again.
NO! Oh, God, No! This wasn’t real, Harry tried reasoning with himself. He was having a nightmare, an hallucination. He was safe in Sirius’ bed in Grimmauld Place. He was not in Malfoy Manor! This was just a memory, he thought desperately, frantic to crawl back out of the hell he suddenly found himself in. Harry tried forcing his body upwards, back into reality before the memory started.
“Petrificus Totalus,” Bellatrix hissed softly, and his whole body grew stiff on the table.
No. No more, please, he begged silently.
God, he was so tired. His body sang with exquisite pain, so that Harry could actually hear it in his ears. She’d done with him all she could. His body surely couldn’t take anymore. Pulling the last orgasm out of him, draining him dry, she’d ripped a scream out of him as well as the last of his seed. There was nothing left in him, nothing left to give her except his blood. Surely she was satisfied by now. Surely she would let him sleep. Just for a little while. He was delirious with pain and fatigue.
“Haarrrryyy,” she purred, drawing his name out as she crawled up his frozen body, dragging her breasts up his battered chest. “You’ve had all the fun, my boy,” she said with a pout, staring down at him. “You still have so much to learn about pleasuring a witch.”
Leaning down, she rubbed her breasts against his frozen face, sliding her hardened nipples across his lips while he could do nothing but lie beneath her, staring up at the ceiling.
“Your fame might get the little slags in your bed, Harry, but you’ll need to do better than what you’ve shown me tonight if you hope to keep them there,” she teased with a lilt in her voice. “I think maybe another lesson perhaps on how to properly satisfy a woman? It’s not all about you, you know,” she told him, a smile breaking across her cruel face.
Bellatrix continued up Harry’s body. Straddling his chest, her weight pressed down on his fractured ribs so that he couldn’t draw breath. Pain radiated out across his sternum, his shoulders, and down his arms. Finally her thighs pressed down on his shoulders, her damp snatch pressed against his chin as she smiled down at him.
“Do you know what cunnilingus is, wittle Harry? Did you get that far in your fumblings with the little Weasley tart?” she asked.
Pushing his chin down to force his jaw open, she slid her finger into his mouth, across his tongue and then out to brush across his lips, wetting them with his own saliva as he continued to stare at the ceiling, unable to answer her even if he would have wanted to.
“Girls like a little something more than just you pumping their cunts, you know? You should show a little consideration. It’s only fair. I’ve sucked you off tonight, Harry. You should return the favor.”
She was pushing her fingers back into his mouth again and down his throat. He would have gagged if he wasn’t frozen by the curse. Tugging on Harry’s tongue, she stretched it out of his mouth as she continued to force his chin down to his chest, opening his jaw wider. Then she lifted her hips and sat down on his face, his tongue pressed against the swollen lips of her vulva, his bottom teeth digging into the back of his tongue painfully.
The smell of their mingled juices filled his nostrils, as his nose was buried against her pubic hair. He could taste them both as their combined fluids ran into his mouth and pooled on his tongue, sliding down to coat his raw throat, giving him a taste of what she’d previously pulled from his reluctant body.
Slowly, she rocked against his face, rubbing herself along his extended tongue, across his lips and nose, until he feared he might suffocate, or drown.
Yes, she’d sucked him off at one point tonight. Harry remembered it vividly. He could still feel the sting of the scratches from her teeth on his raw shaft, the bite marks on his scrotum from where she’d drawn blood. If she wanted him to reciprocate, she could release him from this cursed spell, and he’d gladly show her what he could do with his teeth, Harry thought savagely. He’d eat her out literally.
He longed to tear her open with his teeth. But she wasn’t that stupid. Bellatrix knew he would attack at the first opportunity. She’d been careful to keep her sensitive bits away from his face or hands up until now. Harry wished like hell he could throw this curse off, too. Trying desperately, he was concentrating on it with all his might while she continued to grind against his face.
Lifting up slightly to rest on her knees, Bellatrix hovered over him slightly, relieving some of the pressure on his chest and neck, which sent a fresh wave of agony through him. Grabbing handfuls of his hair then, she tilted his head back to run his tongue along her gash. She rolled Harry’s head back and forth, forcing him to lap at her folds as she braced herself over him, moaning now at the pleasure she was creating for herself, of having him under her control.
Harry knew she was frustrated, though. Bellatrix wanted him to be her willing slave. She wanted him in such a frenzy, that he’d beg to fuck her, but she hadn’t expected to find him so difficult and stubborn. He fought her for every orgasm. He’d rather his balls turn blue and fall off than ever come for her voluntarily. And she’d learned quickly that she couldn’t hold him under the Imperius curse, either.
He would not be her puppet. She might be able to strangle him into orgasm, but he refused to give her anything more. He’d stop that if he could. Already, he felt the bruises around his neck from her fingers digging into his skin.
But this wasn’t real, Harry told himself vehemently. He was remembering. This was a memory, not his reality any longer! Those bruises had faded, and he wasn’t really here. He wasn’t back in this place again.
Suddenly, there was the brush on his arm again, a stroking this time, as if to calm him. It was Ginny again.
Yes! Ginny, please, he prayed desperately. Pull me up. Help me!
Harry heard soft cries of pleasure, muffled moans in his ears.
Bellatrix released his head and forced her fingers back into his mouth, scratching the back of his throat with a long nailed finger so he wanted to gag again, but couldn’t. Wetting her fingers, she began to rub herself vigorously as she went back to rocking her hips over his mouth and tongue frantically, working towards her release, her cries mingling with the others in his ears. And still Harry stared at the ceiling, desperately willing himself to wake up.
The fingers stroking his arm slipped into his hand, squeezing. He tried to squeeze back, tried to hold on, to let her pull him up and out of this horrible nightmare.
All at once, Harry broke the surface again, bobbing back into consciousness, back into the present. There was a muffled cry in his ears. He wasn’t sure if it was his, or an echo of Bellatrix as she reached her climax at last.
His eyes flew open to stare into darkness. His heart thundered as he tried to jerk upwards; intent on fleeing, to keep from being pulled down again, but his body was still too heavy or he was still pinned down. He was breathing hard, all the sounds muffled by the roaring in his ears.
She wasn’t here, he wasn’t there anymore, Harry chanted to himself over and over again. He was safe. He was safe now.
Trying to stop panicking, Harry attempted to get control of himself again as the images continued to swirl in his head. He could still smell Bellatrix. The smell of their sex, the evidence of his rape was heavy in the air, making him fear that she was lingering somewhere in the darkened room, ready to pull him back down again. He was still clinging to the hand clasped in his as tightly as he could.
“Shhhh,” she whispered.
It was Hermione’s voice. Harry knew it now. It was Hermione, not Ginny and not her.
His mind had caught up finally, mercifully. He went boneless on the bed then in exhausted relief, though he refused to let go of her hand.
He needed to cling to her again tonight, like he had after the memories of Snape. Harry was still completely terrified to let go, afraid to be alone, even though he’d accepted the reality of where he was now. He was scared to close his eyes again, but they were so heavy with fatigue. Still afraid he might have brought her back here with him, he worried Hermione might have pulled her up with him. Harry was still totally numb, immobile and utterly defenseless against her, his body still frozen from her curse.
No, it was not a curse, he remembered suddenly. It was a potion. A potion Madame Pomfrey had given him, to punish him.
Hermione reached up and stroked his face with her free hand, turning slightly to face him as she continued to whisper to him. Sliding the damp hair away from his sweaty forehead, she brushed her knuckles across his temples, running her thumb over his eyebrows and causing his eyes to close automatically.
Harry was still afraid. Terrified that Bellatrix was waiting for that moment to pull him down again, but he couldn’t help it, he was completely worn out. It felt like he’d been trying to swim against the tide for hours, fighting against the undertow.
Squeezing his fingers in hers, Hermione continued stroking the backs of his knuckles with her thumb while she carded her other hand through his hair. Murmuring nonsense words into the darkness, she soothed his traumatized mind, until he relaxed back into sleep.

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What it comes down to

Chapter 20. Back on His Back