Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Harry Potter and the Energumen of the Elchee	By : The_Oddest_Exclamation Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 48778 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this because I am not J.K. Rowling.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
First off, I want to thank my reviewers, the knowledge that someone reads this gives me the fuel to write faster, and i suppose I should give thanks to Alonger61 for linking me to the Pottermore site, which has a list of, among other things, a few more schools than I had been aware of at the time I wrote the first two chapters.
But I digress; the point is that we are back, and with an updated disclaimer!
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The weighted fabric draped over the entrance to their little tent brushed away easily enough. From the outside Harry had worried that the tent would be too tiny, it was only barely as tall as he was. But now that he could see inside, he could see that it was somehow moderately larger on the inside than it had appeared to be on the outside.
It was still smaller than their room at the keep, but he figured that they wouldn’t have to sleep in a dogpile unless they actually wanted to.
It was also much sparser than their room back home. With only a small lantern hung at the apex and few small boxes sitting on a rug the far side, which upon his examination, contained cheese, bread, and jugs of wine. Across from those boxes was a small pile of blankets atop a large fur, presumably for sleeping.
Violet casually tossed their sack of possessions on the pile of blankets, and immediately swiped one of the jugs from one of the open boxes and took a sip, giving him an unimpressed grimace.
“How is it?” He probed, not terribly curious, still more focused on taking in the space they would have to call home for the next day or so.
“This junk has to be like half water.” She replied.
“Is it really that bad?”
“I think I would get drunk faster off of piss…” She retorted in disgust, swiftly resealing the jug she had opened.
He shrugged, relatively unconcerned by her petty displeasure. After all, his uncle had often said that bad alcohol was better than nothing, and his twin got annoyed by unimportant things often enough that it barely phased him anymore.
“It’s probably just meant to be enough to keep the water potable.” He answered, scratching George along the scutes, the drake having wandered into the tent after his masters and sat himself down by his legs.
“And besides, this stuff is just meant to hold us over until all the students have arrived right?” He questioned no one in particular, fingering the cheese, while she started unpacking some of the things from their bag, taking care to hide some of the more questionable goods beneath the pile of bedding.
“Did Hagrid tell you how long that would take?” She questioned back, in a rather bored tone.
Harry looked up in surprise from the box of bread he was peeking into. “Violet, you were there.”
She pouted back at him. “Well it’s hard to listen while puking my guts out, I bet George didn’t hear either!” She ended with a fervent shout, hooking her arm around the drake in question.
“Vi, whether or not your new pet heard anything is entirely irrelevant.”
She didn’t back down. “Still, we should ask around, see if we can learn anything before dark.” She gestured to the entrance with an all too familiar excited look. “George can guard are stuff, right George?”
The reptile just yawned in response, flopping down onto its side and rolling around.
She gave him another eager smirk, brushing her core against his, clasping closely against him and pulling him towards the tents flap. “See, that leaves us free to ask around.” Her grin widened, as he brushed her core back in hesitant compliance.
“Alright Vi, but can we try not to pick any fights. Hagrid said we should be mindful.” He cautioned her, the half-giants words still at the forefront of his mind.
His sister looked like she wanted to disagree, but thought better of it, and merely gestured to George. “Stay.” She commanded the Drake, who tilted his head and sat down on his haunches facing the tent flap.
A stiff but warm wind nearly blew him over the second he opened the flap, and Harry found himself, not for the first time, wishing he was at least slightly more heavyset. Violet ignored the seas belligerent murmuring, and his own annoyance, just smirking happily as they exited the tent into the light of the setting sun.
And as they started down the hill, for the second time that day he was stunned. Their tent had been on top of a small knoll, and because the island was treeless he could see what he figured was most of the others. Hundreds of the little white pyramids covered the majority of the island and thousands of what he assumed to be other prospective students milled around between them, going back in forth with a thousand unknowable tasks.
Then those poignant thoughts were interrupted, as a half dozen screaming girls ran past them chasing a rather heavily built brown haired boy.
“DAMNT GOYLE!” A thin faced blonde screamed, barreling around a tent, as he and another more bulky lad trailed behind the small crowed of girls.
He could feel the aimless vindictive sparks echoing across his bond just in time to see his sister to stick her leg out, tripping the blonde boy flat.
The blonde squawked as he fell, the other boy staring blankly in momentary confusion as Violet snickered. He hopped back up immediately, brushing his expensive looking tunic off while his smallish, oily core hissed at them venomously. He fumed and glared daggers at Harry’s sister, who waived back gaily in response.
Harry glared at her too, had he not just reminded her of Hagrid’s earlier warning only a few moments ago.
“I, you-” He sputtered. “My father will hear about this you-” whatever curse he was about to utter was cut short as another pair of girls stormed around the row of tents.
“There you are Draco.” The refined looking blonde with braided hair, who Harry assumed was the boy’s sister based on her appearance, spoke sharply. “You can’t just keep running off and leaving me and Pansy alone, she’s your betrothed and…” she gave him a critical look, “and what on earth happened to your clothes?”
Draco stammered in muted fury, viciously gesturing at Violet, who was still smirking back at him with all the subtly of a venomous snake, her aura crackling with aimless chaotic energy.
Harry nodded in the tall blonde girl’s direction, clasping Violets arm warningly. “My sister is very sorry about knocking your brother over.” He interjected before she could make things worse. “Right Vi.”
“N-” He swiftly kicked her shin. “Fine, I’m sorry.” She rolled her eyes back at him defiantly. “Now can we go and find something to get hammered with?””
Harry was about to give his twin a disapproving look, but the tall girl flipped her braid and snorted, and he found his gaze drawn back to the four other children. “Unless you brought good stuff yourself, or you know someone else who did and is willing to share, you won’t find anything better than the watered down wine in your tent.” The taller girl bemoaned, cocking her head in what was probably supposed to be an aristocratic motion. “Nothing like the wine we have back home, right Draco?”
Draco, having recovered from being made to look like a fool fast enough that Harry was actually impressed, shot back at Violet. “Come now Dior, it’s not like these peasants would know good wine.” He brushed of the fawning of the shorter black haired girl Harry decided was probably Pansy. “It’s probably an improvement to whatever they’re used to drinking. I mean just look at how they’re dressed.”
They did have nicer clothes, much nicer Harry realized. Draco and his sister were dressed in elaborate jade tabards made of felt, over black silk leggings and long-sleeved undershirts, which were paired with very nice looking and slightly pointed leather shoes.
He and Violet, on the other hand, were both in knee length tan tunics and sandals. It wasn’t the nicest pair of clothes they owned, but he hadn’t figured they would need to dress up on the wait to go to school either.
There was, however, one aspect of their appearance that Draco had apparently missed. Violet slid her new shield off her back and into her left arm with a single smooth motion, and shield-checked the thin blonde into the muscular boy behind them, knocking them all over into a pile. Draco immediately started screaming bloody murder as his twin struggled to slide her falcata from its sheath, while working to keeping them pinned beneath her cased shield.
Harry felt the magic in the air fizzle, a dozen different nearby cores crackling wildly in reaction, and he realized his own magic was about to react involuntarily.
It had happened to them before, though it didn’t happen often, and when it did there was rarely anything he could do about it.
And everything was happening too fast, Violet was flung bodily through the air, her sword going flying as she careened back to him. Landing with a heavy thud at his feet. Dior, Pansy and a few of the other girls idling nearby flailed as his magic tried to drag them towards him.
His sister didn’t seem to mind that she had been tossed off Draco though. “Holy, shit.” she gasped in pleasure, convulsing in sensory overload for a moment on the ground, “do that again.”
“How about not.” Pansy groaned out breathlessly, her hands on her knees, shooting him a dirty look which was somewhat ruined by the powerful blush that covered her face and neck.
Harry felt himself flush in embarrassment, while Draco and his friend stood up, stuck looking somewhere between irritated at being tackled and mortified that they had been caught flatfooted in the first place. “My apologies about my sister Draco, she’s just easily excited.” He nodded to the shorter boy, as a still shivering Violet dragged herself off to retrieve her sword, grinning widely. “I can make it up to you guys.” He bartered, seeing no real reason to make enemies with people he knew nothing about before the first day had even begun.
“It’s fine,” the boy huffed, looking slightly frazzled as he set about brushing his clothes off for the second time, “if I took every attempt to kill me personally, I’d be a nervous wreck.” Then blonde unexpectedly shot him a guarded look. “Was that you?” He asked in a suddenly quiet tone, abruptly mindful of the girls starting to peak around the corners of nearby tents, probably looking for the source of the accidental discharge.
Harry just nodded nervously, and waved them back up the hill, wanting to clear the area before even more prying eyes arrived.
“Crabbe, go make sure Goyle isn’t being mobbed and wait for us back at our tent.” Dior waved to the heavyset boy, before rubbing her cheeks to clear her own flush.
Crabbe nodded in acknowledgement, giving Harry a mildly impressed look, before he wandered off in the direction that the other boy had been chased.
Suddenly he remembered George. “Do you guys know Hagrid.” Harry knew it was probably a small chance that they would have heard of the man, considering exactly how many other children appeared to be on the island, but he figured it was worth a shot. And if it turned out that they did, it would make explaining how he had ended up with a young drake easier.
All three nodded. “We’ve heard of him.” Dior answered dryly. “He works at the school as the Head of Keys and Grounds.” Pansy muttered something beneath her breath, and the tall blonde shoved the shorter girl forward in response. “Our father says that he likes dangerous animals, drinking, and axes.”
Harry gestured for them to stop as they reached his tent. “Yeah, that he does, but well the point is… well the point of the story is that he got Violet a dragon.”
All three of them stared at him, as the redhead in question wandered up, sword and shield back on her back. “Yeah, Hagrid’s great like that.” She tapped Draco’s chest casually. “Sorry about that stuff earlier, I get worked up really easily.”
“It’s why Harry loves me.” She gave the trio a rather debauched grin, jabbing her thumb at Harry.
Draco gave her a blank stare, which slowly seemed to work its way into horror. The boy immediately grabbed them both by the arms and dragged them towards the tent.
George cooed in surprise when Draco pulled them inside the tent, Pansy and Dior trailing closely behind them. “You should be more cautious Potter,” the boy said warningly, though to which one of them Harry didn’t know, “much, more cautious.”
That Draco had guessed their last name surprised him, it seemed to surprise the girls as well. With Dior immediately sweeping up uncomfortably close, with her body almost flush against his own, grasping his shoulder with her free arm so she could sweep his bangs away.
All three of them gasped, which made his twin snort. “It’s like you guys never saw a scar before.” She mocked them.
The blonde girl said nothing; none of them did, though he could feel some unspoken communication flutter across the bonds the trio shared. Dior slowly trailed a finger down the lightning bolt that had been carved into his forehead for as long as he could remember. “It looks like there was something your father forgot to tell us.” Pansy whispered, clearly annoyed at something.
Violet cut in, looking annoyed at all the implications flying over her head. “So are you going to give any explanation Draco, or am I expected to just stand here while your sister fingers my brother.” They blinked in unison, and Draco pinched his nose in response.
“How about you two first, like where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing for the past ten years.” He sat down on one of the tents small rugs. “And while you’re at it, pass me some of the wine, and don’t give me that look Dior. I refuse to be the one to have this discussion sober.”
“Is it really your business?” Violet shot back, with George honking in what might have been endorsement, but she still reached under the pile of blankets and tossed him one of the skins of mead they had smuggled from home in spite of her own sentiments, probably just happy to have an excuse to start drinking.
Draco motioned for the group to sit, before replying. “I assume you have questions too, and it’ll help me answer if I know where you two stand, and besides this kind of information is more than a fair trade.”
Harry sighed in relief, as Dior stepped back from him and the graceful girl went and sat next to her brother. “Fair is fair, I suppose.”
Pansy took a deep drag from the skin, rolling in in her mouth, before nodding slowly in hesitant approval at the quality. Then she flopped back so her head was in Draco’s lap, and Harry took it as a sign to start. “I think we’ve been in Shetland since we were nine months old, and our uncle Vernon has been training us for Dumbledore for the past ten years.” He took pulled a second skin from beneath the blankets and took a small sip. “He’s Norse so it’s been mostly fighting, sailing and things related to that stuff.”
“So you’ve been raised by a muggle?” Draco queried, exchanging a shocked look with his sister. “Do you know anything about wizarding culture, or magic, anything at all about Hogwarts?” He paused and glanced at Violet, who had unbuckled her shield from its case and started oiling it. “Do either of you know how to write or read at all.”
His sister snorted at the bit about reading. “Harry is the one who learned all of that junk.” She waved at him flippantly. “It’s all so boring.”
Harry found himself embarrassed; suddenly painfully aware of how little time he had actually spent learning when it had not been immediately necessary. “I can write and read Nordic runes. As for the rest of it, I’m afraid I really only know a few details from the stuff Hagrid would talk about after he was well into his cups.”
Pansy took another deep drag, her cheeks already almost back to their earlier red. “So you basically you guys don’t know shit.” Her head flopped back and she rubbed her scalp against Draco’s crotch.
“I know how to kick you’re a-” Violet started, but Draco squawking cut her off.
“Pansy now is not the time for that.” He blushed furiously as she flipped over on her stomach, face against the crotch of his tabard and started sniffing audibly.
Violet snorted, her face twisted in cruel amusement. “Bit of a lightweight to be talking shit, isn’t she?”
“You have no idea.” Dior complained, pulling Pansy into her own lap, while Draco sniffed the skin of mead suspiciously.
“It’s a Vanilla Metheglin, and we got it from Hagrid, so depending on what you’re used to it could be a little strong.” Harry cautioned, as the blonde boy took a much more reserved sip than his betrothed had while attempting to subtly adjust his tabard.
Violet snorted at him again, and the blonde gave up, shooting Harry an almost painfully embarrassed glance before continuing. “Ok, we won’t have time to go over everything, but the gist of what you need to know right now is that you got that scar ten years ago, in a terrible accident that killed your father and one of the best leaders we’ve had in more than a hundred years.” He passed the skin of mead to his sister, who took a sip and picked up where he left off.
“Tom Riddle was the leader of a secretive order under the House of Lords called the Death Eaters, they worked mostly as intelligence and counterintelligence agents during the last crusade.” She took another swig. “Your parents, James and Lily Potter worked for Dumbledore in the Order of the Phoenix, which does more or less the exact opposite, running offensive strikes, deep in the territories of the Abrahamic and Ming peoples.”
The blonde passed the skin back to her brother and he continued. “Point is they were all very famous people, and one day, around ten years ago they went into a room at Hogwarts, and only your mother and the two of you came back out alive.” The boy frowned in displeasure. “Even my father, who I should add is the head of the House of Lords and was second in command in the Death Eaters doesn’t know the details of what happened that night.”
Violet glanced at Harry then back to the boy. “So who does?”
The boy shrugged at them. “Your mother and probably Dumbledore, neither of whom have said a word about it in ten years.”
A light pattering sound could be heard starting up on the tents walls from outside, as the sunlight which had been dimming even before they had returned to the tent, finally started to pitter out completely. The source of the earlier gusts of wind, revealed to be a light rain, come to batter the island. “I guess that explains how you recognized us, but what do we need to be careful of?” Harry probed them, finding himself even more curious than before.
Pansy flipped herself up, grinning drunkenly. “Cause if a lady figures out who you are, she might just decide to try and take you,” she squirmed in Dior’s grip, “for better or worse.”
The taller girl rolled her eyes down at the brunette. “Who dropped you off?” She said, seemingly changing the subject.
“Hagrid did.” Violet cut in, having finished polishing her shield, ignoring that the question had been obviously directed at him and not her.
But Dior continued unperturbed. “Did he tell you not to make oaths, to not promise anything?”
“Come ere George.” His sister interrupted again. The drake stretching, before ambling over to her so she could oil his scales.
Harry ignored her, nodding at the blonde, who took another sip of the mead before replying. “Well at least he did one thing right.” She drawled, looking slightly redder than before.
“While most of the girls here are probably too young and inexperienced to be able to force you into a magical bind,” Draco paused while his sister went about laying Pansy down in one of the spare blankets. “There are other ways to ensure our allegiance.” He finished ominously, and Harry got the feeling he was talking about the two of them specifically.
“Why would anyone want to bond with Harry?” Violet queried, taking an especially long pull from one of the skins. “I mean you guys were talking all sorts of shit about us before.”
Dior and Pansy both snorted at that. “That was before your brother gave every girl in fifty feet weak knees on accident.” The black haired girl giggled, lolling out on the blanket, very clearly drunk.
Violet moaned at the mention of the moment, running her hand down the exposed skin of his leg meaningfully. “You still need to do that again.” She gave him a greedy look, rubbing up past his knee with her free hand.
Then the cloth draped over the entrance to their tent was brushed aside and a pigtailed cherubic face stuck itself inside. “Sorry to interrupt,” the waif chirped, “But I brought some embers with me, and since it seems like no one else thought to, I figured I would pass it around and help everyone light their lanterns.”
“Oh, and I’m Hanna by the way.” She waved cheerfully.
Harry waved back to her, standing with the sack of mead as the others in the tent nodded in greeting. “Thanks for the fire; we’ve got some mead of you want to try some.”
“I’d take a sip, but I’ve already had a couple and I think everyone who’s got any is going to offer some.” She declined his offer, as George honked at her sleepily. “And I need to be able to make it back to Susan even if it really starts pouring.”
Harry helped her pull the parchment lantern down from the tents apex, and together they lit the candle’s wick with the embers she had brought in a small ceramic pot.
Then strange little blonde nodded at the small flame, and with her self-appointed work done, she vanished back into the dark and rain with nothing more than a cheerful wave.
His sister sniffed, derisively. “Someone’s had a few too many magic mushrooms tonight.”
Harry fixed her with a disapproving glance as he tied the lantern back up. “You could try and help people too.”
“Yeah, I could.” She gave him a sleepy smile. “I’m not going to, but I could.” She finished her statement with a deep draw from the mead.
Draco yawned sleepily. “You mind if we sleep here Harry?” He asked, taking another draw from their skin. “Our tent is on the other side of the island, and I’ve heard we were supposed to get a pretty nasty storm tonight.”
Harry shrugged, relatively unconcerned. They seemed nice enough, and he figured he still did owe the other boy for his twin’s misbehavior. “I don’t mind.” He shrugged, figuring it would be cramped, but if it started to storm heavily or got very cold, that wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing. “What about you Violet?”
His sister didn’t reply verbally. Instead she flopped back into the nest of blankets she had arranged for herself earlier and waved at him in a dismissive way, while she clutched a new skin of mead possessively.
“I don’t think she cares.” Dior noted, squirming uncomfortably in place as her brother slouched down next to his betrothed.
“Draco, how drunk are you?” She whispered to him in a more breathy tone, eyes starting to dart around their little space in a manner Harry found odd, until he recognized the looks as one he had seen on Violet quite often.
He shrugged at her. “We don’t have a chamber pot, sorry...” He apologized to her awkwardly.
Draco groaned in annoyance, leaning up on his elbows, and shooting Harry a rather drunk look. “You want to do me a favor Harry? Take my sister to the… shit what did that Latin girl call it?”
“The sign above the door said latrine Draco.” Pansy answered sleepily, not even bothering to open her eyes.
Harry nodded. “Sure, I should probably go too. Just let me get out our cloaks.” He opened their bag and frowned. “Violet, did you remember to pack our cloaks?” They weren’t nice cloaks, Trude had simply attached clasps to convert an old pair of thick woolen blankets, but they would be better than nothing in the present weather.
His sister rolled over to glare at him. “Three pairs of tunics and three pairs of tabards.” She growled out rather quickly, considering her state of intoxication.
“I also reminded you specifically not to under pack this time.” He wasn’t going to give her that bit of ground again, especially with a third of a pint of Hagrid’s potent mead in his blood.
Dior cut them off, before the argument could devolve further. “Can we just split one of these blankets?”
Violet gave the girl an amused sniff, but Dior and Harry ignored her and he grabbed one of the thicker looking blankets and draped it over his shoulders, motioning for her to join him. “Alright, you’ll have to show me where this place is.” He pulled her up as she rose unsteadily, feeling more than a bit uncomfortable as the aristocratic girl gripped him tightly.
“It’s along the islands western edge.” She answered quietly, as they stepped out past the tent flap into the drizzling rain. “You should be able to see it.” She turned them to walk past the tent and he did see a shape in the dark, illuminated by the hundreds of softly glowing tents.
Her grip on him tightened as they began walking down the other side of the hill, and he was suddenly grateful that the shadows of the blanket would hide his blush.
§
Hermione glared at the girl, as though her sheer frustration could teach the muscled girl how to speak Greek.
While she wasn’t quite sure how long they had been sitting naked in the pile hay, she figured any amount of time was too much. And with her sister Melody, as per the usual, being absolutely useless. It left her the task of trying to figure out how to get them both out of the current mess.
The fact that yelling at people for being absolutely worthless meant that she didn’t have to think about the events of the past day was certainly a bonus.
Because she really didn’t want to have to think about the fact that the only reason she would be here was if she was actually a witch.
“I’m going to ask you again to speak properly, and if you don’t you’ll leave me no choice but to figure out a way to have you punished!” She growled in her best stern tone, not that she or her sister had been able to leave the hex carved into the wood beneath the straw, but she figured she would eventually figure something out.
The oversized blonde girl she had been arguing at seemed to barely care. Replying in something that sounded like it might have been a dialect of German.
They had been at this for what she figured was most of an hour. After she had accepted the humiliation of being naked in front of hundreds of people, mostly because everyone else was in the same boat as she was, and there was nothing she could do to change it. She had decided to try and ask some of the other children around her if they knew anything.
Which lead to her learning that she was surrounded by barbarians and blasphemers. There wasn’t anyone but Catholics and Arabs all around, not a single Greek speaker among the whole of them.
Something she found pretty frustrating by itself. It was almost enough to distract her from her own nakedness.
“Mione, I want to go home!” And speaking of distractions, Melody had woken up and the younger girl had jumped straight into one of her moods.
Of course, there really wasn’t anything she could do about it. She couldn’t bring them home, as desperate as she was to undo the events of the past day, she didn’t have the slightest clue where she could even start.
Of course they couldn’t go back even if they wanted to, stuck in the hex as they were, and even if they could, she knew it would be an instant death sentence.
She also very strongly doubted that the mage that had kidnapped them would even let them try.
Which meant they were both stuck in the ships hold for the time being, and that they would have to accept it.
“Just be quiet for one minute Melody. I’m trying to talk.” She hissed back at her sister for the umpteenth time.
The girl chose to pout at her adorably. “But you’ve been yelling at people for like… forever!” She spun her arms around, shaking her head. “It won’t work Hermione.”
“It won’t work, it won’t work, it won’t wor-” Hermione cut off her obnoxious shouting, slapping a hand over her mouth in frustration.
“You only have to say it ONCE Melody.” She lectured her little sister, who flopped back into the hay in response, with her bare chest heaving from shouting.
She scowled, resolving that she would figure this out, she would succeed, regardless of what she had to do about it.
§
The Latrine was an actual building as it turned out. Not an overly large tent as he had first guessed that it would be.
That being said, it was still just a simple squat structure that hung precariously next to the sea cliff, with a small overhang that let them duck out of the rain while they searched for the door.
“Have you actually been inside Dior?” He asked his new companion, who had taken to wiggling around in his grip in desperation.
She pulled him further around the curved wall, to where a modest entrance gaped, and they ducked inside. “I was inside when we arrived yesterday evening.” She hissed uncomfortably, as she ducked with him into an oddly curved room dimly lit by little lanterns on the walls. “This hallway swirls around the entire building to a small bathing room in its center.”
The hallway was a single continuous bench set into either side, with rounded holes cut into them, in a manner he wasn’t familiar with.
Harry could hear the ocean in the corridor too, and feel it actually; the building trembled in sync with the sound of waves.
He noticed that were alone, except for a tiny little brunette who sat peeing alone into one of the carven holes. Then an instant later, he realized why he could hear the sea so well.
From below them came a particularly loud crash from the waves, and the brunette shot from the toilet with a terrified shriek, foamy water shooting from the unoccupied seats and from a series of drains set into the sloping floor.
Dior laughed as the small, and now very wet girl hopped up and down in place, patting cold water off her naked butt rapidly, and he found himself chucking along with her in spite of himself.
The other girl shot them a humiliated glare and rushed past them in a curse filled huff, presumably making her exit. Dior gave an amused sigh as she finishing laughing, and together they made their way around the spiraling hallway to the buildings round center bath.
It was a bigger room than he had thought it would be, and he wondered of it was some trick of the darkness, or if the same witchcraft that had fashioned the tent had been involved.
A tiny oil lamp dimly lit up the warm little room. Which was little more than a dozen raised water filled basins, with a few hooks on the walls that he presumed were for hanging bather’s clothes.
“I think we’re alone Harry.” The tall girl noted drunkenly, and she flopped back against the far wall, pulling him with her. Firmly caressing the outside of his core, as she wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling at him until they were flush against each other and he could easily feel her thighs squeezing together against his own.
“Dior you’re drunk, are you sure you know what you’re doing?” He cautioned the alluring girl, smelling the mead on her gasping breaths as she panted into his face.
Harry for his part knew was probably more than a bit drunk as well. But he was just sober enough to wonder, not just if they would be in trouble if they were caught, but also if he shouldn’t feel slightly guilty. Because while Draco wasn’t the most masculine boy he had ever met, and he didn’t doubt for a moment he could beat him in a fight. He didn’t really want the boy to be mad at him because he had violated the other youths trust.
And while he knew practically nothing about wizarding culture, he was pretty certain that he would be more than a little mad if another boy made off with Violet.
But despite the earlier warning and his own internal misgivings, the willowy blonde merely pressed her body against him more firmly in response to his question.
And suddenly he was aware that she was drunk on more than just the mead. That her core pulled against his with even more insistently than her physical self was clutching him.
“I want it.” She moaned into his hair. “Can I have it?” She begged, grinding her trembling crotch against his hardening member. “I’ll drink yours if you drink mine” She pleaded with him with a lecherous grin.
Then the braided girl shifted him closer to lick his ear languidly, and Harry shuddered at her action and the dirtiness of her invitation, but he rallied himself and pressed her against the wall more firmly. “Draco?”
She snorted into his neck, in a rather unladylike fashion. “We’re not like you two.” She answered, shivering again and he wondered if she was getting off on her own desperation. “As long as you don’t do something that would bond me, he’ll never even know.”
He reached down and brushed aside her tabard to grope the crotch of her leggings. “And that would be?” He asked. Mindful of his own ignorance, while she moaned in response to his ministrations and her nails went raking down the back of his tunic.
“No penetration below the waist with your thing, or you’ll form a mate bond.” She pressed him down by his shoulders and Harry allowed himself to kneel before her. “Anything else should be fine.”
“Didn’t you guys just warn me against this kind of thing like an hour ago?” He muttered up to her rhetorically, still not quite believing how far the situation had already escalated.
Dior just slid the front of her tabard around his head, so he was buried nose deep in the sweaty crotch of her leggings in response. The black silk was slightly moist and smelled strongly of the aforementioned sweat and the blonde’s feminine musk; with a slight whiff of what he assumed was probably some sort of perfume. “Just do it.” She pulled her leggings down to her knees and pressed his face into the gap between her legs. “Please Potter; I want it to be my turn so bad it hurts.” Her core pulled at his excitedly while she pulled his hair and thrust his nose towards her puffy sex.
He took a moment to examine her with what little light he had, idly comparing her vagina to Violet’s. The blonde’s slit, he decided, was more of a mound. Unlike his sisters, it protruded like a tiny and adorable little peach that dripped a musky honey that ran in rivulets down the sides of her legs. She pulled at his hair desperately, trying to pull him forward but he held off, wanting to examine her sex further. He noted that she also lacked the little patch of fuzz on her pubis that Violet loved to run her fingers over when they were alone.
Then his internal musing was cut short as Dior cried out. “Oh, shit!” and he let her jam his face against her folds. Opening his mouth quickly, remembering her strange deal only at the very last instant.
Harry obediently worked her entire peach, and he had decided on that name in his mind, into his mouth so he could lick it without losing anything. Squeezing her butt with his hands, pulling her cheeks as wide as they would go, while he braced for the first burst, and he wasn’t disappointed. The hot splash of acrid flavor against his tongue made him shiver, and Dior dropped back against the wall in relaxation. With her wet thighs and buttocks trembling in his hands while she whimpered and moaned, draining her bladder in desperate jets onto his wiggling tongue.
He found himself licking at her mound in a relaxed pace. Forced to swallow down the bitter warm liquid as quickly as he could to avoid having it overflow from his mouth, or even worse, shoot out his nose. And while he was as unused to the brackish flavor, as he was to the act itself, he was willing to go along with the drunk blonde’s suggestion for the moment.
The fact that his alcohol clouded mind was pretty sure she had promised to return the favor probably helped his willingness to perform this new action as aptly for her as he could.
Though he had done something similar on one occasion before, when Violet’s own impatience had let to her splattering him while he was licking her. He though idly about the incident as he gulped down another girl’s urine, how his normally selfish sister had been so embarrassed by her own incontinence that she had not asked for him to perform the act again for nearly a week afterwards.
Dior didn’t hadn’t seemed as selfish, but in her drunken condition she had apparently left her own consciousness exposed, and the animal part of her mind decided it wanted to take all she could allow herself to take from him.
It was probably a display of her sober competence that she had had the concentration to barter with him at all in her intoxicated state. Instead of just trying to pin him and leech his core like Violet usually did. Instead she had made a deal, and would be able to say claim had been diplomatic, as opposed to pushy about it.
Not that he really minded either way. He thought to himself as the flow tapered off to nothing, and her vagina popped free from the suction of his mouth as she slumped down on the wall, collapsing into a shivering mess on the floor in front of him.
He swished the last bitter gulp around in his mouth, and then a wicked thought entered his head as he watched her tremble against the wall. He grabbed her by the braids in her hair, and forced the last mouthful of her own urine past her lips.
The blonde for her part just gasped against his kiss, suddenly submissive in the face of his assertiveness, and she swallowed obediently while he pinned down her tongue her with his.
He pulled back so they were nose to nose and Dior gasped again, licking at the thin strand of saliva still between them. “Is it my turn yet?” she gasped out, her own core rubbing his as she gave him a rather glazed expression.
‘Really,’ Harry thought, feeling a lustful smile spread across his lips, ‘Who am I to deny such a pretty face?”
He spun the taller girl around, switching places with her so he could sit back against the wall. Then he pulled her head down with her long white braids, pressing it against the front of his tunic. Feeling a thrill shoot down his spine and settle in his crotch as he rubbed her face against his hardness through the thin cloth.
She responded to his prodding in much the same way Pansy had done to Draco earlier, inhaling deeply on the patch of cloth his precum had made moist, nuzzling her face at him with a desperate insistence.
Unlike Draco, however he had no intentions of stopping her. Instead he mumbled down encouragement and held her more firmly, grinding himself harder against her face while she moaned open-mouthed and licked at him through is tunic.
Salt stung his eyes, as the sweat that beaded his brow and dampened his hair went dripping down his face. His body felt like he had a fever, and he knew he was probably about as red as he had ever been.
Dior was red too, the flush standing out brilliantly against her pale skin, and she only got redder when she flipped his tunic up.
She squeaked as his drooling penis slapped against her face. He smirked as it left a shiny trail across her forehead, and she instinctually pressed her nose firmly against its base, licking his sack while she inhaled hard and looked up at him.
Harry knew he wasn’t the biggest in the world; his length only about four and a half inches long and maybe an inch wide at its max, but Draco’s sister seemed to be plenty impressed anyway. Her glazed eyes were wide, focusing on the skin covered bulb that sat on the end of his penis. The sight left him to idly wonder if she had ever seen one before.
He reached a hand down and smacked her with it again on the cheek this time, and she moaned up at him in response. “This part is going in your mouth.” He whispered down at her, trying to be quiet as he pulled the extra skin from the top, revealing the angry red helmet that topped his member
The hand in her hair guided her firmly from his balls, until her hot breath washed over the tip of his penis, sending tingles up from his crotch that he could feel in his fingertips. Her tongue flicked out at his penis, in defiance of his hand gripping her braid, and grazed the very tip.
The prickling feeling that had already been running down his spine burst into an even more powerful sensation, and he fought against the urge to jam her down until her nose ground his crotch, as he groaned in pleasure.
In the end he decided that her submission so far probably meant that she wouldn’t mind a little roughness. His penis struck her forehead again, and he rubbed the sensitive head against it. Reveling in the sensation of it sliding over her sweaty brow, and the feeling of power over her that it gave him.
Then he slammed her head down hard as far as it would go, not stopping until he heard her choking as his bulb stabbed the very back of her throat.
Dior, for her part, merely made a “Gurk…” sound as she gagged. Slapping her hands onto his thighs as he pulled back slightly and slammed her face home again, grinding her nose into the little dusting of black hair that nested around above his penis.
The feeling was incredible, like a hot, wet, vibrating silk sliding down him, and he didn’t even bother to try and hold back. Instead he thrust his hips as hard as he could, against her mouth several times, and then settled for grinding his head against the very back of her throat. Holding her head down firmly, while she dug her nails into his thighs, and he listened to her gag.
The pleasurable tingles exploded, and his penis felt like it was on fire, he knew it was a pointless battle to try and fight. So he drew back just enough that the girl under him had started to inhale, and he slammed home and ejaculated.
This time she really did choke, while he held her down and exploded against the back of her throat. He moaned hoarsely, his head flopped back against the wall, and his legs locked around her head in sync with his hands ground her violently into his pelvis.
He held that position for several seconds, while she twitched and slapped his knees, and felt his sack tightened again and again with semen pulsing down the length of his penis.
When he finished they both went limp, he released his hold on her head and it popped up slightly. She retched immediately, with what he found himself hoping was his cum, her face laying limply against his crotch as she coughed and heaved onto his softening penis.
Running his fingers affectionately down the back of her neck, he chanced a look down. Her face flipped up to look at him only a moment later.
She was a mess; her empty eyes glanced up in his general direction, with semen running down her chin and out from her nose to pool in his belly button. He wiped a tear from the side of her face, and rubbed it down into the puddle of cum, wincing at the oversensitivity as he rubbed her chin on his penis again, using her to mop up the mess she had made.
Dior just trembled at his actions and moaned weakly. Wrapping her lips around his now softened length and suckling like a baby.
Together they lay like that, him against the wall and her limply on the floor with his penis in her mouth, sweat and semen drying slowly. And eventually he felt a familiar pressure building in his bladder.
Dior, who had been pretty out of it, seemed to come back to herself slightly, like she could sense his urge herself. He noticed her eyes were a little less empty than they had been a moment ago, a little more focused.
Her tongue flexed its way into the little sheath of skin that protected his head. Parting the little slit on the end just as he relaxed his own bladder into her mouth.
In an instant he knew she was swallowing more than pee. He could feel the cold sparks that came with a core latching on to his own as start leeching at his magic, and he watched her come back to herself in real time. The look in her eyes was suddenly more sober than it had been in hours.
She didn’t release him though. But instead she continued to swallow as he finished peeing; now trying to smirk up at him arrogantly. Though her attempt at passing for composed was rather ruined by all of the semen and tears staining her face and the frazzled state of her once orderly hair.
He didn’t really understand the appeal she found in the action. Though he did find that it was fairly relaxing and sensual, he didn’t think it compared to the pleasure he had garnered moments earlier. In the end, he chopped it up to this girl being different.
Dior popped his penis free from her mouth with a pant; no longer looking like his scent was holding her under compulsion, and looking relatively dignified for having her face absolutely smeared with still moist semen.
“You didn’t have to be that rough, you ass.” She growled up at him hoarsely. “I was choking to death on this shit.” She swallowed reflexively, and ran her finger through the cum still dripping from her nose, examining the fluid disapprovingly.
Harry just snorted, and started helping the girl to her feet. “I don’t recall you complaining…”
She rolled her eyes at that, punching his shoulder weakly. “And I wonder why?”
He placed his hands on her shoulders as she pulled her leggings back up, playfully pressing her against the wall to suck on her shoulder, before pulling back and watching her thin legs wobble precariously. “So no repeat performances?” He smirked back at her impishly.
“Cheeky bastard.” She shot back, looking less annoyed as she gripping his hand to help steady herself and they worked their way back down the hallway and out into the rain.
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I hope you all enjoyed the story so far!
So as for the characterization for Harry, I went for a generally nice kid who wants to fit in, but who suffers from a lack of impulse control and a worthless education.
Draco is as close to his canon personality as I could make him. Both proud of his heritage and ambitious, but also arrogant and incompetent, heaped with terrible luck.
Dior and Violet were meant to be mirror exaggerations of their siblings. Harry is impulsive but well meaning, Violet is aggressive and selfish. Dior is proud like Draco, but with even less ambition.
Speaking of Dior, I thought it fitting to give her a suitably condescending name. Dior is French and according to my source it means golden.
Also, I just remembered that Harry’s birthday isn’t anywhere near Hermione’s, but have decided to roll with it.
So as always, reviews, comments, ideas, and death threats are welcome.
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Harry Potter and the Energumen of the Elchee