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Hermione's Furry Little Problem	By : Gandalfs-Beard Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 242818 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 20
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its associated properties. They belong to JK Rowling. I make no money from the production of this work.

Chapter List
- 82
- 83
- 84
AN: Implied post-bondage/rape sequence at the beginning of the chapter. I hadn't intended to write anything quite like that in this fic, and it wasn't written for the purposes of titillation, but rather to show that Wormtail's victim wasn't left to die alone, locked up in a basement.

Silence echoed through the manor, but the naked teenage girl trembling in the basement hardly dared to hope. Not more than an hour before, she had heard that horrifying... thing, the monster with no nose and red eyes, shouting at his followers to hurry up and get a move-on.
There had been a lot of clattering and banging of doors, then many loud cracking sounds, and after that... nothing. She waited, sure that it was too good to be true, dreading the return of the slovenly balding fat creep with the long pointy nose, crooked teeth, and far too much ear hair.
The girl shuddered in revulsion, her flesh crawling at the memory of his calloused touch, his unkempt fingernails, unable to get the stink of his breath which seemed to hover long after he was gone out of her nose.
When the revolting older man whom she had come to think of as “Ratface” didn’t arrive at the usual time for what he liked to call “playtime,” she decided to take a chance. Her breathing quickened in trepidation as her bare feet padded up the steps to the door leading to the kitchen. Thankfully, though her wrists were still bound together by steel cuffs, Ratface had left the chain which often kept one ankle shackled to the concrete pillar undone--for good behaviour he had said.
Heart pounding, certain that it would be locked, she tried the handle. She was stunned when it swung open. Hurriedly, she ran up the stairs to her room and pulled on some panties and a pair of jeans. Hands shaking, she picked up the phone and dialed the police as she started to sob with a release of pent up fear and grief...

~o0o~
The stolen Russian freighter crested over the storm surge as lightning lit up the decks, water streaming from the bow of the vessel. The ship dipped as it tilted into the valley of the next wave and many Snatchers lost their dinners while the Lycans jeered at their weakness.
Wormtail groaned as the freighter drew closer to Azkaban and he remembered that he had forgotten the girl and left the basement unlocked. He had just undone the lock when he had been distracted by a scuffle between one of the werewolves and a Snatcher, and then the Dark Lord had said it was time to go.
Storming the fortress proved much easier than the Dark Lord had imagined. The iron gates crumpled like tissue paper in the hands of the giants and the Aurors were no match for the Dark Lord’s forces. The lucky ones fell to the wizards’ avada kedavra curses. Those who were not so lucky screamed as they were torn apart by the Lycans and the Trolls.
There were barely a few more than a hundred Dementors hovering around the ancient keep, far too few; the Dark Lord was puzzled but not altogether displeased at the turn of events. Dozens of the wraiths hissed at the intruders and vanished, heading for London to answer the heed of the Dark Witch, abandoning the rest to their fate.
Those that remained gathered near the Rune-Wall as the Dark Lord approached and bowed. Only a wizard could release them from the magic which bound them to this fortress, allowing them access to human souls beyond the walls of Azkaban, and the ones which stayed had made their choice. Voldemort’s features broke into an evil grin. At least, of those Dementors which he had numbered, the Dark Lord and the Dark Witch were evenly matched.
As the prisoners were released, the Dark Lord counted his supporters. Antonin Dolohov grinned and bowed to his Master, as did Thorfinn Rowle. Mulciber and Travers were shaken awake, their eyes widening in surprise as they prostrated themselves, begging forgiveness for their failures; Nott and his son followed suit when they were dragged trembling from their cells.
Rabastan Lestrange and his brother Rodolphus stood straight and tall with thin smiles on their lips as they re-pledged their troth. Bellatrix Lestrange stretched and yawned, gazing languidly at the Dark Lord when one of the trolls ripped her cell door from its hinges.
“What took you so long?” she purred, batting her eyelashes as a smile crept to her lips. “I’ve been waiting for you...”
Voldemort chuckled softly and shook his head. Bellatrix was ever the same, her dark libido undaunted by years among the Dementors.
“What of Lucius?” inquired the Dark Lord, “His failures have earned him a punishment. And where is his son Draco? I was given to understand that he too had been sent to Azkaban, but neither are to be found.”
“The Minister has them,” Bellatrix cackled and leered, “Apparently that witch has had designs on Lucius for years. She visited numerous times before finally obtaining his release some weeks ago. She bribed the Aurors on duty. Lucius belongs to her now... He appeared most grateful--spineless coward that he is.”
Voldemort chuckled again and nodded.
“So be it. Lucius shall meet the same fate as all who have betrayed me then,” the Dark Lord sneered, “And Rookwood?”
“He was the first to go to her side when she claimed him as one of her own.” Bellatrix replied.
The Dark Lord frowned. That was a shame; Rookwood had been one of his best agents. Still, he would have been useless as a spy this late in the game.
The rest of the prisoners were released and added to the ranks of the Snatchers. One of them was making a fuss though and broke formation, falling at the Dark Lord’s feet.
“Please, my Lord,” the once quite handsome fellow begged, his golden curls now bedraggled and frayed, “I have skills... I can be much more useful as a Death Eater. I’m... I’m quite good at Obliviation Charms and Interrogations.”

~o0o~
Bellatrix smirked at Wormtail as she strode through the fortress by his and the Dark Lord’s side.
She could see the change in the Rodent, wrought by his claiming of Power. He wasn’t the weak little thing she had surmised him to be when he had begged to join the ranks of the Death Eaters and offered up the Potters as the price of admission. Like herself and their Master, he seemed quite at ease walking among the Dementors.
Bellatrix decided that Wormtail would make a far better better General than the coward Lucius, or Severus, whom she had always suspected to be a traitor. Bellatrix did not begrudge the Rat his status, as the Dark Lord had finally agreed to take her as his Dark Consort when they returned to the Mainland.

~o0o~
The Minister had just placed an order for 20 collectible plates featuring Puppies--they weren't Poodles, but they would do--from Spode’s Magical Division by owl when the first memo from the DMLE arrived. London was under attack. Scowling, Minister Umbridge decided that Muggle London could hang for now. She had already warned the Prime Minister of potential terror attacks by Voldemort, and he had assured her that as long as he himself was protected, he could turn any such situation into a political advantage for them both.
She was certain that at this very moment Azkaban was also under attack, but Minister Umbridge sighed in relief, secure in the knowledge that Lucius and his son were safe at her home, still recovering from the withering effects of the cold, damp, and malnutrition. Fortunately, the effects of the Dementors didn’t seem to have damaged their mental state greatly. They had apparently been sustained by their fury and hate for Harry Potter, which had overridden their fears and despairs.
The Minister was surprised at how little the Dementors affected herself anymore. Upon her last visit to Azkaban, her Patronus had sputtered and vanished, but she found that she no-longer required it. Dolores almost felt at home amongst them. She tapped one of the rune-stones which she had taken from the Auror sentry at Azkaban whom she had bribed on her last visit with her wand, knowing that the Dementors would answer her call.
If Voldemort wanted Azkaban, he could have it for now, but the Dementors were hers to command directly; no more would the Minister be forced to supplicate herself to the Head of the DMLE for access, and soon the rest of the DMLE would belong to Dolores as well.

~o0o~
The Headmaster had the worst headache he could recall having in some years--the worst one since the night Lily and James Potter died. Albus had been getting them with some regularity again over the last year and a half. He almost asked Poppy for a pain potion, but he needed his wits about him. A hot cup of Chamomile Tea would have to suffice.
Albus didn’t even know why he had the headache. It was not as if he had been surprised by last night's turn of events; in fact, over the last year and a half, he had been more correct in his educated speculations than ever he had been in the preceding years. Albus supposed it was the price he had to pay for being attentive to details which he had been wrong about for so long.
He had been very nearly absolutely wrong in how he had dealt with Harry Potter and his connection to Voldemort for the first 12 and a half years of the boy’s life--or rather, the 11 and a half years since his parents' murder. Albus sighed as he took a sip of tea. Now that Albus was nearly absolutely correct in his assessments, over the course of the year and a half since Hermione Potter's transformation, NOW he got the headaches.
He reread the Daily Prophet Article and sighed again. Dumbledore considered releasing Rita Skeeter and forcing her to give evidence under Veritaserum to the Wizengamot, though it would likely be a futile endeavour as the Minister had turned the Wizengamot against him. Albus narrowed his eyes as he read between the lines and considered the implications of the slight change of tone of the Ministry's Mouthpiece. The current article, while clearly still favouring the Minister’s views, was written in a much more straightforward manner. It was becoming increasingly evident that there was much more to the “Gossip Columnist” and unregistered animagus than met the eye.

~o0o~
Rita was hopeful when Albus Dumbledore entered her cell the morning following the Third Task. She had not been expecting to see Dumbledore at all anytime soon; perhaps he was in a more reasonable mood. Rita’s hope turned to puzzlement though when the Headmaster of Hogwarts was followed into the room by Severus Snape,
“Good morning Ms Skeeter,” Dumbledore began amiably enough, “I am going to ask you a few questions, and how you answer them could go a long way to assuaging my concerns and ensuring your timely release. Professor Snape has kindly agreed to provide some Veritaserum to aid you in providing truthful details if necessary.”
That wasn’t good. Not good at all.
“Really Dumbledore, surely you don’t think that I am in a position to lie to you...”
“Don’t play games Ms Skeeter...” Dumbledore cut across her, his tone becoming colder as his piercing blue eyes bore into hers, “You are a remarkably good Occlumens; skilled enough to protect your secrets, but not at all adequate enough to hide the fact that you are a liar... a very well paid liar.”
“The question which comes to mind is who is actually paying you? The focus of your propagandistic “gossip columns” seem to have rather a lot of political import for someone alleging to be more interested in celebrity worship....”
The hairs on Rita’s neck rose; she licked her lips nervously. Surely the Headmaster was speculating. She would have to bluff as much as she could, but her options were running out.
“So tell me Ms Skeeter, how long have you been an Unspeakable? When did you begin working directly for Minister Umbridge? And how much do you know about the Minister’s connection to the assassination of Cornelius Fudge and her attempts on the Potters’ lives?”
Rita’s blood ran cold and her breath quickened in fear. It was impossible for Dumbledore to know, yet the directness with which he asserted the “questions” was authoritative. She swallowed anxiously and replied truthfully.
“You won’t need the Veritaserum. I'll tell you all I know,” she gasped as her eyes widened, “But whatever you do, please--you can’t release me, or blow my cover while the Minister is in power. If you do, I’m as good as dead...”

~o0o~
It had been a long night for Fleur, but the Potters had left their own bed to cuddle her as she sobbed, fighting the racks of pain caused by the reknitting of the bones in her legs.
It was true that Madam Pomfrey could “mend bones in seconds” for nice clean breaks, but too many bones had been shattered by the Gorgon’s tail, and several had had to be removed and regrown overnight. Fleur was sleeping soundly now as the bones had finally completed growing shortly before dawn and Madam Pomfrey had felt that it was finally safe to give her a sleeping draught and send the Potters back to their own bed.
“I’m so sorry Harry,” Hermione cried into his chest, her tears soaking his pyjama top.
Harry pulled Hermione closer, stroked her furry ears and kissed her bushy head, perplexed.
“Whatever for Hermione? Fleur’s fine now...”
“Last schoolyear... I...I never realised...” Hermione sobbed, “You had to have 33 bones regrown. Because of L... L... L...Lockhart. You must have been in so much pain... and n...nobody was w... w...with you, except for Dobby... And... and I was so dismissive...” she wailed inconsolably.
“Sssssh...Hermione, it’s alright...” Harry replied as tears filled his own eyes. It broke his heart for him to see Hermione feeling so awful. “Please... I was fine. It wasn't as bad for me--I swear... I got over it... I love you Hermione!”
Harry held her tightly in both arms and gently rocked her, but Hermione couldn’t stop crying and berating herself.
“Bloody Lockhart! I hate that evil twisted bastard....” Hermione wailed, “I didn't know that he was raping students and obliviating them until after you turned him in for sexually harassing me in class and Dumbledore sent him to Azkaban..." Hermione's sobbing grew louder,“I had no idea... I had no idea...”
Hermione began breathing rapidly. Harry was desperate; he knew it was because Hermione felt dreadful for having been fooled by Lockhart's charms, and he had to stop this before it went any further. He needed Madam Pomfrey but he couldn't leave Hermione. Fleur was fast asleep. Harry grabbed a vial each of the calming draughts and sleeping draughts next to her bed.
“Please, Hermione, you have to stop. You're hyperventilating... Swallow this...”
Harry tipped the calming draught into Hermione's mouth. She sputtered and coughed, dribbling some onto his pyjama top, but it began to take effect after 30 seconds and her breathing slowed. When her eyes started to glaze, Harry knew it was safe to give her the sleeping draught.
Harry took Hermione's lips in his own and kissed her tenderly as she gazed gratefully into Harry's liquid green eyes.
“Th...thank you Harry! I love you so much....” Hermione murmured as she drifted into a dreamless sleep.
Moments later a distraught, bleary eyed Poppy Pomfrey burst through the curtain with more calming and sleeping draughts. She took one look at Hermione asleep in Harry's arms and relaxed.
“Oh... I'm so sorry Mr Potter. I...I dozed off and it took a bit for the monitor to wake me. You had better get some sleep yourself though.”
The tears had blurred Harry's own red bleary eyes, but his stomach rumbled as he spied the rays of the morning sun peeking over the top of the mountains and streaming in through the window between the Potters' bed and Fleur's. He hadn't eaten since yesterday morning, having been too anxious for lunch or the early feast just before dusk.
“Thanks Madam Pomfrey. I'll do that, but maybe it would be alright if I had some breakfast first.”
“Of course Mr Potter. I'll send for a House Elf immediately.”
Several minutes later there was a cracking sound and a teary Dobby appeared with a tray piled high with pancakes, fried eggs, boiled eggs, scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, ham, chips, baked beans, toast, crumpets, pots of jam, steaming bowls of porridge and a pot of tea. Harry couldn't help himself, he began to chuckle and it felt good to have a laugh.
“Is Master Harry alright Sir?” the bewildered House-Elf squeaked. “Master Harry and Mistress Hermione and Mistress Delacour must be regaining their strength Sir.”
“It... it's just... a bit much really. Hermione and Fleur are both asleep finally, and will be for a while.”
“Oh... That doesn't matter Master Harry Sir. Breakfast will stay hot and fresh until Mistress Hermione and Mistress Delacour are awake sir. Dobby is just very happy that Master Harry and his Mistresses is alive and wants to make sure you has everything you needs Sir.”
Harry thanked Dobby profusely and gave him a hug, which set the House-Elf to bawling almost as loudly as Hermione had been. He shook his head as the happily weeping House-Elf disapparated, chuckling again as the House-Elf had recently taken to calling all of the Unaffiliateds Harry's “Mistresses.”
Shortly after he began eating, Hedwig swept into the hospital wing and dropped the morning paper on the bedside table. Harry stroked Hedwig's feathers and gazed into her doleful eyes.
“You too? Hermione and I are alright... really. ”
Harry buttered some toast for Hedwig and began to read the paper, his eyes widening at the headline. He had expected to see something about the Third Task, not this.

Terror in London and the Fall of Azkaban

DMLE Head Sacked
- 82
- 83
- 84
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Hermione's Furry Little Problem