Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Immortalem Bellum	By : Xen Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 12051 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This story is not suitable for minors, and henceforth anyone who is not of age must leave. All recognizable Harry Potter characters and content belongs to J.K. Rowling and associates and I make no money off this.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
Author's Note- The number of reviews has me a bit worried. But here is another chapter regardless. Enjoy!
He was running, faster than ever before, faster than he had ever ran in his entire life- and he had run a lot. The earthly scent of the Forbidden Forest filled his nose, twigs snapping underneath hasty feet falling over dead leaves and contorted roots. Behind him, something charged onwards, extirpating the trees unfortunate enough to fall in its path. Great thick trunks fell aside like broken toothpicks, and onwards the monstrosity charged.
Harry was running out of breath but stopping for even a moment would gain his pursuer a lot of ground. And then suddenly, he ran into a brick wall. His head smacked into the mortar with all his momentum, and he fell backwards reeling. His head spun, and as he lay clutching his forehead on the damp forest floor, Harry saw the clouds split open far above the towering canopy by a huge green serpent coiling around a skull. His foot caught on a sturdy root, and the sky rushed up and past, the ground a blur as he tripped.
And then the earth opened into a toothy maw and swallowed him whole.
Before he could fall, before he could feel the wind rush past him, he was standing on his feet in the dark. But he was not alone. Two people stood in front of him. To the left, the tall, pale and nose-less form of Lord Voldemort, crimson eyes fixed at Harry, naught but a smile on his face as he looked on with a patient smile, then beckoned him a hand, offering Harry to join his ranks or die.
"I will make you great, Harry… I will give you your heart's desire… women, power, riches… I will give you immortality if you so choose, Harry…you can have your parents…you can save your friends. Everything you have lost- you will find once more if only… Come…. kneel by my side." Voldemort spoke much like a serpent, as if he was switching frequently between Parseltongue and English.
On the right stood Albus Dumbledore, or some grotesque form of the dead Headmaster. The creature had the headmaster's face and torso, but it was fixed to the body of an acromatula, larger than Aragoog. In his hand, he held a double-sided scythe. He stood silent, but his blue eyes pierced through Harry.
The figure did not break the silence of the dark, and as Harry watched, a lone tear fell out of Dumbledore's left eye, before he moved forward in a leap so quick Harry didn't see it and brought down the scythe upon his neck.
Harry woke with a start, hands rushing up to protect his neck from the strike that was never coming. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he was sweating profusely. His body shook, mind flooding with memories he had recently remembered, and despite the sweat, a bitter brisk cold crept upon him. Something was splitting apart inside his chest, and Harry felt nausea engulf him. His ears were ringing, and his head ached something fierce. His body felt heavy, as if he were drowning. Maybe he was. Maybe he had. Maybe if Voldemort ever bothered to check amongst the Inferi in his lake, he would find the wrinkled rotten body of Harry Potter, eyes cloudy and white, staring into a plane Voldemort never would.
Everything around him was so dark, a lone lamp sat on the bedside table, and Harry felt things moving in the shadows it cast. How much time had passed? How long ago was it since he had collapsed in Dumbledore's office? Hours? Days? Years? Or was he still there? It seemed unlikely. Everything is shaking too much.
Or someone was shaking him, he couldn't really tell. He was at the end of a long dark tunnel, and whatever they were saying seemed to bounce around the curved walls a million times before it reached him- in no way comprehensive. Something was pushed against his lips, a bitter thick liquid, and Harry wondered briefly if it was poison.
Sounds good to me.
Where do all the stars go Harry? The liquid filled his mouth, and Harry almost spit it back out, revolted by the taste, but he found he couldn't move much of his body. And then he was rushing deeper into the tunnel, the walls of darkness closing around him.
His head hit the pillow, and he passed into dreamless sleep.
When he came to, he was on fire. Or at least, it felt so. Something cold was churning within him, yet his body was burning up. His bed was warm and wet. His body ached all over, and his head felt as if it would split open. His throat was parched and sore, resonating with a bitter after-taste, and he desperately wished for some water.
For a split second, his eyes didn't open, then they were met by darkness. A lone candle burnt at his bedside, and he lay wondering why he was drenched. His body was stiff, as if he had been asleep for a long time, and the room was unbearably cold, making his teeth chatter. He had no recollection of where he was, and how he got here. The last thing he remembered was collapsing in Dumbledore's office. Just the thought of the late wizard's name brought bile in his throat. He sat up in a sudden movement, coughing and retching,
His throat was on fire- almost as if someone had scrubbed it with dry sandpaper. He looked around, trying to find some water to drink, but he wasn't wearing his glasses, and the room was too dark for him to see anything. Suddenly, a glass of water was pushed in front of his face. The action startled him, so much that he whirled around, but the blurry sight of curly brown tresses stopped him short. It was her. She was still with him. For the moment, at least.
He accepted the glass gratefully, noticing that his arms were shivering slightly, and his skin was sweaty. He felt hollow, as if a great storm had swept from within him, some crucial part of who he was, and although his mind had regained the memories he had lost, the toll had been too much. There was now a void within him, an abyss that was so vast- with a gravity so intense, begging to be unleashed upon the world around him, and hungry enough to swallow everything Dumbledore had planned, a belfry of rage so mammoth, Harry was afraid of himself.
The memories washed over him even before the glass touched his lips. His hands shook uncontrollably, sloshing the water in the glass violently. He gulped the water down before he could spill any of it. Then he handed the empty glass back to her, clenching his fists and gritting his teeth. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath- and then let loose a scream through clenched teeth. Some part of him registered her taking a step back, giving him some space to vent his frustration. He didn't know how long he screamed for, but when he was finally done, his throat was aching sore and dry again. And she was prepared with another glass of water for him. He took a few sips, taking deep breaths to calm himself down.
And then she put a hand on his arm. A different kind of fire raced up and down her touch, and Harry wondered if she had changed as tremendously as he had. For he wasn't just Harry potter anymore- and maybe he was something less, and in being that something less, maybe he was something more.
They had both realized just how big the game was, and Dumbledore had shown them they hadn't even been playing it, merely being played with. Born to die. My only destiny was to die.
"It's okay Harry," she said, "We're alive…we're well."
But for how long, he thought. He felt that same icy frost return within him, chilling his cognition. If I live, so does Voldemort. And as long as he lives, I am hunted. And so, Harry sat there, holding a half empty glass of water to his mouth, eyes weak enough to not look past a few yards, but still gazing into a time and place a million miles away. A wind, chilled and biting, carrying broken shards of frothy rubble and ice was howling within him- I must die, or the nightmare doesn't end. First, I destroy the horcruxes, and then I die- the last horcrux. Neither lives, neither survives.
Set me free, the monster within him spoke, and not for the first time, Harry wondered if it was real. Those who have swathed you in misery and suffering shall themselves taste the flavors- again and again if they must, it said.
And then the monster within him broke free of its chains, rearing its majestic head up above the surface of control and restraint. Why should I die- and for whom? For people who used me all my life? For- because Dumbledore wanted me to?
He remembered the portrait of Phineas Black, who claimed to have offered Dumbledore another solution to his predicament. Something about murder. He would have to have a chat with the portrait. For the moment, not thinking about the stolen memories seemed in his best interests- until he regained some strength, he didn't think it wise to put his mind through that kind of stress. Someone was waving a hand in front of his face. He blinked and finally drank the water, relief flooding his throat. His glasses were pushed in front of his face, and he accepted them, exchanging them for the glass tumbler in his hand.
His vision cleared up, and his surroundings came into view. Turning his head just a little, out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Hermione standing not a foot away, looking at him with worry in her eyes, the empty glass held in her hands. "Are you alright Harry?"
He turned his face to look at hers. She had cleaned up, and her minor injuries had healed. She was biting her lower lip, like she was wont to when she was deep in thought. Her hair was tied in a ponytail, and she wore her Hogwarts uniform, complete with robes draped over the shirt and skirt. "I…uh," he took a deep breath, "We need to talk Hermione."
Her face hardened slightly, and she met his eyes with a resolve of titanic determination. She gave him a nod. "Whenever you're up to it Harry. How do you feel?"
"Unbearably warm, famished, and prepared to hang Dumbledore's corpse by the gates of Hogwarts." He muttered. "Where am I?"
Hermione took a step back, settling down in a comfortable chair and looking back at him, replied, "You can hang it once I rip his innards out and stuff them down his throat." Harry turned to look at her. There it is. She had changed too, and it wasn't for the better. She was something darker now, a hundred shades of black past dark perhaps. Dumbledore had stolen his memories, but Hermione's… her memories he had destroyed. But she had never before shown an inclination to violence and gore, and Harry was pretty sure she was serious when she had said it. "You feel warm because…. that's the last of your fever leaving you Harry. You've been burning up since you fell unconscious in ….in his office, and Madam Pomfrey said it was a magically induced fever. She- uh… she said your magic had changed. And though she assured me it wasn't anything to worry about, she also told me to call her when you felt like it. She said it could be important. As to where we are, we're in one of the unused rooms near the infirmary…there wasn't any bed left for you there. Madam Pomfrey thought it would be best to keep you isolated in case any of the Slytherins got any funny ideas."
Blood left his face faster than a heartbeat. My magic changed…how is that possible? Something didn't add up. "Wait…how long was I…How long was I out for?"
She looked him over once. "You've been out for three days Harry. A lot of people wanted to check up on you, but I convinced Madam Pomfrey to keep them all out." Harry flinched at her answer. He was shocked at how long it had taken him to… at how badly the memories had affected him. I fear what you may become…
"An elf should be around with some food soon enough."
Harry almost sprang out of bed at the mention of an elf, hand twitching towards his wand laying on the surface of the bedside table. Her eyes met his startled ones, and she stood up again to placate him. "Relax Harry… The moment I could, I went to the kitchens… I didn't find Gimble- of course, but I found Dobby. Dobby was… well, Dobby was Dobby. When I told him you needed his help, he was prepared to wage war against all elf-kind. He told me none of the elves actually knew Gimble, though they had heard of him… Or seen him lurking around the castle. They only know him as Dumbledore's personal elf."
She sighed, sitting down once more, "He's not in the castle anymore, Harry, and if he is, well, he is somewhere the elves can't find him. Dobby has agreed to stay nearby in case Gimble gets any ideas. He will keep his distance- unless or until we call him."
There was an edge in her tone, that made her voice intimidating. She had changed, irrevocably, and Harry was saddened by it. Harry took another good look at her. Her brown hair wasn't the bushy mess it used to be years ago, having been tamed somewhat. The cuts and bruises Harry had seen on her earlier had been healed. Her lips were set into a cold line, and her eyes were…it wasn't just strength they shone with, but a poise and tenacity that Harry had not seen in them often. Sure, when she was arguing about what she felt was right, or over a discussion about academics. But this Hermione was different. Not new, or unfamiliar to him, and yet stronger.
A plate of food appeared on the small bedside table to his right, loaded with sandwiches and orange juice and accompanied by a jug of water, but there wasn't any sign of an elf, and Harry thanked his stars for that small mercy. It was too soon for him to be near an elf. He would most probably end up killing the poor bastard. And while Harry had nothing against most house-elves, Gimble though, was an entirely different matter. Gimble was one elf, he would squeeze the life out of with his bare hands.
He ate in silence, gulping down the juice in a hurry, Hermione watching his every move. He felt rather nervous. He had no secrets from her, not anymore. Even secrets he didn't know he had…every thing he would have sworn to hide away from the world, from her, had been laid bare at her feet. She probably knew- or maybe she had always known, that he had feelings for her, to put it mildly. In truth, he worshipped her, and they had sometimes had little differences, and sometimes had fought too, but nothing would change the fact that everything Harry knew about love, compassion and purity, he had learnt from her. She had given him a hug, his first one- if those sorts of things mattered at all- as lightly as if she was taking a breath, and in doing so had bound him to her in a way that was unbreakable.
But all he had given her in return was trauma, trouble and violation. She had faced death countless of times, all because of her association with him. And now he knew Dumbledore had violated her privacy because of him. And if she didn't want anything to do with him, who was he to stop her? But she stayed, didn't she? I was out for three days, and she stayed.
A part of him knew- believed, her name and his wasn't written in the stars, at least not together. Maybe if he had been some regular Harry, instead of Harry Potter, or some regular Potter, instead of Harry, and they had struck once more in the Hogwarts express, maybe then he would have stood a chance. And maybe in another life, he wouldn't have a scar on his head, that would leave him without a soul to rest his soul with.
But this life seemed too harsh, even for his tastes.
When he had chased away the last of the bread crumbs, and could no longer stall for time, he rose from the bed, deciding to freshen up before he probably lost the best friend he would ever have.
When he came back, she was waiting patiently in her chair, reclined backwards with her legs stuck out. The shower had been much needed, and he still felt weak; waves of dizziness had assaulted his senses again and again, and once and twice he had stumbled into the walls. He took a seat on the side of the bed facing her, and for the longest moment, neither of them made a sound. He watched her wave her wand about, muttering secrecy wards, and even sketch some hex based runes into the thin air to keep people out. He gulped as she realized who the wards were for- Gimble. For a moment, his anger flared, and he wanted nothing more to watch the life fade out from Gimble's large eyes.
He stared into the oil lamp burning on the bedside table, and she stared at him.
When she cleared her throat, as if to speak, Harry finally gathered the courage to look at her. Their eyes met, and another short spell of silence reigned between them. Finally, she took a deep breath.
"You tried to commit suicide."
Fuck. Right down to the bone as always. He looked down, for there was no way he could meet her eyes. But he had to tell her, he had to convince her that he was past that- he knew he could never take the coward's way out, that there was no peace in that easy solace. "I was down Hermione. It was the lowest I have ever been. But I can promise you, I am past all that now. I… there is too much I have to do… Worlds will crumble, and prophecies will break if I choose the easy way out of this mess. You don't have to worry about it."
"Your life is not yours to take." She spoke seriously. "It is yours to live."
"I told you I am past all of that."
She studied him with somber brown eyes. "Are you sure you don't want any help? We could go to a psychiatrist or a Healer if that's what you would prefer; you could talk about it. Or you can talk to me, if that's what you want."
But Harry shook his head. "I'm fine. I am used to dealing with… anyways, it was just a momentary lapse of judgement. Trust me, it won't happen again."
That seemed to quell her issues with his suicidal tendencies, and silence issued between them for a minute, though Harry could tell she wasn't entirely convinced.
"You asked me to the Yule Ball."
It was a statement. Her eyes weren't unkind, and Harry realized they were back to the very first memory. He took a short breath, and nodded.
"Why?" She asked. She didn't appear condescending, as Harry had first feared. She was either merely curious, or just looking for answers to everything. "Was it because you liked me? Or because you thought I was a friend who would solve the hassle of getting a date?"
Wait- What? Harry felt a spike of anger swell within him. Was that what she thought? Didn't she know even now? Even after all of that?
"Is that what you think?" He asked her, eyes full of betrayal, and voice full of heat. But she was nonplussed. "I don't know what to think Harry. You…you are my best friend. And…Dumbledore," she spat the name out, "he did his best to wreck us- our friendship- we were pawns in his game Harry- and I know…I…I know he wronged you the most Harry…but there are things I have to tell you- things I haven't told a single living soul- but, I just want to make sense of my life for now. So please, just…let us just talk about everything we saw- and…" She stopped talking after a while, not knowing what to say anymore, but the strength in her eyes remained.
Harry gave her a long look, before deciding that telling her everything would be the best course of action. He raised a hand to his hair, running it through the tangled wet locks. "I asked you to the Yule ball, because I liked you- because I like you, though now, like isn't good enough a word. I first noticed you as someone different when you stood by me against the entire school when my…my name came out of the Goblet. It took me weeks to build up the courage, and the Yule Ball just gave me a brilliant excuse. Now that I remember everything, it was one of the happiest moments of my stupid life- hearing you…hearing you say…yes."
Her eyes were wet. She had followed every word he had said with rapt attention. And his words had…moved something within her. She nodded gently, as if to say she understood now, and when she stayed silent even after minutes had passed after his heartfelt confession, Harry realized it was his turn to speak now.
He thought back to his fifth year, when she had asked him to Hogsmeade- on a date. His stomach fluttered a bit, and his face warmed. "We almost went on a date to Hogsmeade."
She looked away from his eyes, blushing up a ton, and the hints of a smile tugging at her lips. She crossed her legs first, and then her arms. In the yellow light of the lamp- the only source of light in the dark room, Harry thought she looked beautiful.
"I don't know how someone can be as thickheaded as you Harry." She began, finally turning her face to give him a shy smile, which ended up as a smirk. "I got tired of waiting for you to get all the hints I dropped for you- though looking back at it, you did ask me out to the Yule Ball, so I guess you're forgiven."
She gave him a smile that said she knew something that he didn't. He stared at her for a second, and when she saw the bland look on his face, she rolled her eyes at him, exasperated. "Forget that last bit you dolt- you're thickheaded as ever."
She huffed when he still didn't get it. "Yes Harry," she spoke, cheeks flaming red, "I asked you out to Hogsmeade because I…I really liked you- I mean, I still do. And I…I thought if anyone in the world would be okay with what I am- with me being so different, it would be you."
Harry had almost stopped listening to her after the first sentence. She likes me? Wait- what? Eyes so wide they could have almost started from his forehead, Harry looked at her incredulously. She laughed gently when she saw his face. "What?" She asked amidst her laughter. Harry could have heard that sound forever- he could have sat on the edge of the bed forever, watching her laugh like that- face flushed and red, brown eyes crinkling with laughter, rosy lips curved upwards over a row of perfect white teeth.
Harry wanted to ravage her.
"You like me?"
She gave another eyeroll, and Harry thought the world had rolled with her brown eyes. "Of course, I do you dummy. I've liked you for quite some time now Harry," she said, shyly.
Harry was hooked. "How long?"
"You brought down a mountain troll to save me. Harry. So how long do you think?" She paused for a second, deep in thought, "I think… since…since the end of third year…" She looked at him then, almost through him, he thought. He licked his lips nervously, before speaking, "To be honest, I…uh, I've always thought you were way out of my league. I mean…I never thought you would like me."
It was Hermione's turn to be incredulous. She gave a disbelieving laugh, "Me? Out of your league? Merlin Harry!" She gave him a smile. "You're such an idiot, Harry Potter." She straightened up in her chair then, slipping off her shoes and pulling her feet underneath her. In an instant she was somber, no longer laughing, just a small smile on her face. "I've always looked up to you silly. And I am pretty sure I love you Harry." Her voice was softer than a feather.
Harry though he was falling down a cliff, or maybe he was at rest in the air, it was just the ground rushing up to meet him. Or maybe he wasn't falling down a cliff, maybe he was riding a comet, blazing in outer space, circling a beautiful sun with brown eyes. It was a rush. And, he decided, maybe he was flying. His heart was beating so hard, Harry was afraid it was going to break his ribs.
Love.
Something melted within him. He realized he had been staring, for quite some now. But Hermione had just been looking at him this whole time, giving him a soft look, her brown eyes never leaving his. Suddenly she was out of the chair, and in a single clumsy step, she was kneeling in front of him. "Harry?" She whispered, eyes wide, voice impossibly soft.
Harry could only watch her, and her brown eyes, not knowing what to do. Ever so slowly, even as he watched, she brought up her right hand, index finger extended, and plucked a tear off his face. It was at that point that Harry realized he had been crying. All the stress, all his burden, the weight of the sky- it all came hurtling down on him. Dumbledore's betrayal, and his own death sentence, Voldemort, it all rained on him like an avalanche.
From behind the veil of his burden, he saw her bring her fingertip to her lips. Her tongue peeked out in between her lips, and she put the tear on it. Harry's eyes went wide, his misery momentarily forgotten. He watched her suck on her finger, and it drove him wild. There were a lot of things, none of them decent, he wanted to do to her, right then, and he imagined each of them vividly, eyes fixed on the finger she was sucking on.
With a pop, she pulled the wet digit free from her mouth. Harry's eyes flitted to hers, and he saw her give him a knowing smile, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking about. He blushed, for a moment, unable to meet her eyes. Then his eyes caught Hermione's shiny wet finger. He was transfixed, and his fixation didn't pass Hermione's notice. Giving him a smirk, she brought her finger to his lips, offering him a taste.
Harry jerked back, stunned beyond words, but Hermione's finger followed the trajectory of his lips. Her smile turned into a full-fledged grin, and Harry knew he was fucked. She looked breathtaking, and if she had asked him to jump off the Astronomy tower, right then, well, who was Harry to decline her. He looked into her brown teasing eyes. They were challenging him to do it. It was a dare, albeit, Harry thought it was the best dare he had ever received. Besides, Harry couldn't think of any better things to suck on.
Slowly, he leaned forward, taking her finger in his mouth, closing his dry lips around the digit. His tongue lapped at the inside of the finger, before Harry took hold of it gently with his teeth and swirled his tongue around it. A few circles in, he pulled his tongue back, and rubbed its tip against the tip of her finger., sucking on it the entire time.
Where do all the stars go Harry? Maybe they hide behind brown eyes and rosy lips.
He wanted to kiss her- hard- until his lungs were screaming for breath and her lips were swollen, and her hands were pulling at his hair while his hands explored her body with a fervent madness.
Fuck!
He was getting hard, and he thanked Merlin Hermione's eyes were fixed on his lips.
She pulled it out suddenly, not caring to wipe the wetness, and gave Harry a pat on his cheek. "Good boy." Harry flushed, suddenly feeling embarrassed. She got up looking back for a moment, before her hands closed around the armrests of the chair and pulled the chair closer to the bed. She sat down then, eyes boring deep into his, brown locked with emerald.
"I guess I should say it again, Harry. I think I love you. And I know you haven't had an easy life, not with the Dursleys, and not with Albus Dumbledore, so you don't have to say it back. But after what I saw in the pensieve, I want you to know this Harry, no matter what you decide after tonight…I will always be here…I've always got your back."
That was it. Hadn't he waited three years for this moment? And wasn't all the agony, all the pain and suffering, all the death worth this? And wasn't this too much? He lunged forward, startling her for the tiniest of moments, before he was wrapped around her. "Oh Harry…" She whispered in his ear, her arms coming up behind his back, holding him close, and he knew then, he would do anything to have her hold him like that again. Save the world or set it on fire. They stayed like that for a few precious moments, before her hands found his shoulders, and she pushed him back, holding him at arms-length to look at him.
"Before I ask you the most important question Harry, there are somethings you should know about me. I know I don't need to tell you to keep this a secret Harry, but there is only one other person apart from me who knows, and that's Madam Pomfrey- because she was the one who explained to me what I was."
Harry's eyes widened as he realized where this conversation was headed. He straightened a bit, understanding how important the next part was going to be. She took a deep breath, craning her neck to look upwards, as if looking for some kind of divine help. Harry realized she was afraid. Afraid of how he was going to take this bit.
"Hermione," he began, "it's okay. There is nothing you can tell me about yourself, that will make me like you any less. Even if it is just to get you in trouble, I am always here for you."
She laughed at that, but it faded quickly into anxiety again. "You don't know what you are getting yourself into Harry." She gave him a sad smile. "I…I will start from the beginning then," she said, sitting comfortably on the chair behind her.
Harry chose to sit in front of her, at her feet, sliding a pillow underneath him to protect against the cold floor and leaning back against the side of the bed. She sighed at that, clenching her fists nervously, before leaning back in her chair. He gave her the time she needed to collect her thoughts.
"I was born a hermaphrodite Harry," she said, looking straight ahead, over the top of his head, "which means I was born with both sexual organs. The...uh…the male parts were under-developed and internal, which meant that for all intents, purposes and appearances, I was a girl." Harry had known what a hermaphrodite was, but knowing that Hermione had been one all along was enormously shocking in the least. But he dared not interrupt her, lest she lose her courage. And so, he listened with rapt attention.
"My parents knew about it, of course, but they didn't feel it was something to be…ashamed of…or something to be kept from me…They told me when I was ten, and I came to terms with it knowing it was never going to affect me. I was a healthy girl…and that was all that mattered. But what no one knew Harry-", her eyes flicked to his, "was that I belong to a succubus heritage…which is why I was born like this. Someone on my mother's side…some great-great-or-so-ancestor…was a succubus…and yes, magical too. But…. the genes were dormant. And…. then in second year… when that incident with that Polyjuice happened Harry… the thing with failed Polyjuice transformations Harry-"
"They leave behind too much residual energy, with unbound transfiguration matrices…and because it is a potion it stays behind in the system for a couple of days, and the matrices might attach themselves to the most susceptible entity."
Hermione stared at him in shock. It wasn't that she thought he was stupid, but Harry rarely showed academic prowess outside of examinations. He gave her a sheepish grin in return. "Um… wow Harry. Ten points to Gryffindor I would say… But yes, as you can guess…the Polyjuice triggered the change, and by the time the fur fell away… I… I was a- I had a…"
Harry had an inkling what she was going to say, and it scared some part of him. Surely not! Life can't be that cruel. He waited for her to say it, not wanting to disturb her in the slightest. For a moment, he thought she was going to cry, but instead, she sat up straighter, "I have a penis, Harry, or what you boys prefer to call- a cock."
It wasn't the fact that Hermione sported the same appendage as him between her legs that shook him more. It was hearing her say 'cock'. Harry found it incredibly arousing. When he looked up at her, distracted by the sudden silence, she was looking at him expectantly. Harry froze a bit, unsure of what to do, aware that Hermione had just laid bare a potentially devastating secret in front of him. And because through some unfathomable and unbelievable circumstances and events, she claimed to love him, his reaction probably would matter to her the most.
It doesn't matter, he realized. I don't care.
He was curious, if anything, but if she was expecting any form of revulsion or disgust, then Harry was extremely proud to disappoint her. He leaned forward, placing his fingers on her knees, and met her worried eyes with his own. "I don't see how that is… I mean, I don't care Hermione. If you think…like- if you think this is going to make me think less of you…. You are wrong. If anything, I am sorry I dragged you into that mess back in second year, but only because it… because you suffered. And…more importantly, Hermione… it doesn't change the way I think about you. At this point I doubt anything will."
She looked at him like he was speaking some language she didn't understand. And for a minute or an hour, he didn't know which, he let her stare at him. "I want to spend my time with you, as a friend, or as a… or as something more- but that is up to you. All I know Hermione, is that I want to be with you no matter the cost."
She gave him that sad smile again, and Harry desperately wanted to replace it with something better. "You say that because you don't know what being a succubus means Harry. I don't think… I don't think you would want to be anything more than friends with me if you knew."
"Why don't you tell me everything and find out for yourself?" Harry had long since decided he wasn't going to budge. Besides, he was not that same person now who used to play by Dumbledore's rules. He wasn't going to give up on her because she had an extra appendage. She looked down into her hands then, and they spent a few more moments in silence. The she reached behind her, pulling aside the small cushion that lay, crushed into the back of the chair, and pulled forth a thin book. It was a simple black affair, and it had definitely seen better days. The binding had been renewed, but the pages had yellowed, and the print on the cover had faded, until the only words left legible were 'Th– of Succubae'.
She offered the book to him, "It's a…well… it is the most accurate text I have found on Succubae Harry. 'The myths and secrets of Succubae'. It contains historic references as far back as those written by Egyptians monk, and although much of it is pretty much conjecture and observations, the other books I have read on the topic all say the same. You just need to get to the end of Chapter 3 for now… though you can read all of it if you want."
Harry took the book tentatively, ready to pour through the pages immediately and put this behind him, but Hermione had one last thing to say. "Hey…"
He looked up from the cover, meeting her eyes.
"Before you go through it, is it okay if… is it okay I kiss you? Just one kiss? In case you decide you don't ... you know?"
Harry wanted to tell her that it wasn't going to happen, but Harry's world was already tumbling for a moment, not sure if he had heard her correctly. What the fuck? Is this real? All he could do was stare at her like a fool, as she stood up, slipping on her shoes, and walked towards him, with steps that reminded him of that one time he had seen a large jungle cat stalk its prey on Dudley's television. His hands were suddenly very sweaty, and some over-active part of his brain thought it would be best to keep the book aside for the moment.
Harry thought he was dreaming, but when she bent at the waist, and her right hand found his chin, and her touch became reality, he found himself stirring. The rest of him, though, was frozen, eyes wide and caught like a deer in headlights. Maybe some part of him was trembling, and maybe some part of him was raging with excitement, or maybe, just maybe he had stepped on a live wire- but something far wilder than electricity was flowing through him, barging into his body from that spot on his chin, where Hermione had forcefully claimed it.
And then she was upon him, barely an inch from his face, and he could see her pupils dilate, the simple flare of her nostrils, as she breathed in deeply, and the wetness of her tongue as it sneaked out from her mouth to wet her lips. Harry found himself entranced, eyes refusing to leave her lips now that they were so close…so within reach. He could smell her fragrance, almost like roses and rain, and the monster within him wanted to lean in and rub his nose against her neck and inhale her scent till it was all he could smell. She jerked his chin ever so slightly, and his eyes flicked back to hers. Millimeters from his face, lips wet and on the cusp of kissing him, her eyes locked with him. She wasn't asking for permission; she didn't need or want it- and he was too far gone to withhold it. She was staking her claim. She smirked at him, and he gulped nervously.
And then their lips met, gently at first, and Harry couldn't- wouldn't believe, how impossibly soft her lips were. She wasn't about innocent kisses- her kiss was all kinds of indecent, as if she knew he was rock-hard. It was nothing like how he had expected his first kiss to be, and honestly, he had expected his body to, well, behave like his body. Instead, every part of him sang, and yet Harry could identify none of it. All he could feel was her incredible lips, the fingers on his chin, and his own hard phallus. it was slightly scary, all the new, brilliant sensations running through him, blood thrumming under his skin.
Their lips moved in tandem, hers thrilled at the chance to wet his dry ones, and when she caught his lower lip between her own, pressing at it as if she was squeezing a lemon for juice, Harry lost it. He thought he heard her moan, but he couldn't really concentrate on anything else anymore. The feeling of her lips, and the powerful image of Hermione holding his chin, bent at the waist, kissing him so very sensually, enveloped him, and Harry could have sworn he had never felt so elated in his life ever before.
Her other hand came up then, trailing up his left cheek, behind the ear on the same side, and tangled into the hair at the back of his head.
And then, somehow boldened, he dared to slip his tongue out, taking a tentative taste of her lips. She froze, and Harry feared he had spoiled the moment, but then she was pulling his hair harder, hard enough to hurt- and still making him want her to pull harder, kissing him much more fiercely, and Harry was… eyes closed, he was watching constellations fall into place. He had imagined this moment in countless fantasies and dreams and wished it upon many a falling star, and now that he had it, now that he knew what it was like to kiss Hermione Granger, Harry found he would never have enough of it.
And just as he was about to take just one more lick at her lips, she pulled away, and Harry noticed the… wistfulness in her eyes. God, what just happened?
Harry hoped Hermione wouldn't notice the raging erection he sported in his pajamas, although the tent was glaringly obvious. She brought her fingers to his lips, swiping them across his lower lip, and them pressing them against her own. When the fuck did you become such a seductress Hermione? Their eyes wouldn't let go off each other, and Harry wondered how much of a sin it would be if he pushed her back into her chair and kissed her harder than she had kissed him. And she must have read it in his eyes, and the tilt of his lips, pulled of their own volition towards her still wet lips, for she gave him a knowing smirk, and straightened up.
She took a step back, taking a deep breath as if to calm herself. "I am going to give you some space Harry. Think about… think about what you want to do now. I am going to burn the Wizarding World, with or without your help, preferably the former. Go through the book, then think about everything you learnt in the pensieve. Together, we can re-shape the Wizarding World, apart, well, apart Harry- I have no idea how long we will last. Our enemies are countless, and allies some. And if you decide you want to be friends, then…" she paused to sigh, and Harry knew how much she disliked that particular idea, "then that's okay too. I'll be at the top of the Astronomy Tower, no matter how late it gets, where the bane of our lives died."
She turned around, and Harry wanted to stop her right then, wanted her to give him one last kiss before she left, but he knew she was right.
"And," she said, leaning down so that her face was inches from his again, moving ahead to whisper in his ear, "I hope when you're done, you're still thinking the same way about me." Her hand had reached forward to grab his painfully hard erection, and Harry let loose a squawk of protest.
But she was already gone, and Harry was left watching her ponytail swing as she went.
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