Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Come to Play	By : gee25 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 113 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: AI-Generated story. I do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter List
- 1-Relaxation
- 2-Goodness
- 3-Pleasant
- 4-Compulsion
- 5-Absolutely
- 6-James
- 7-Fade
- 8-Yours
- 9-Come
- 10-Relentless
- 11-Mirror
- 12-Pink
- 13-Date
- 14-Patience
- 15-Perfect
- 16-Belong
- 17-Gift
- 18-Magic
- 19-Everywhere
- 20-Shatter
- 1
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The fire in the hearth at Grimmauld Place crackled, but it did nothing to warm the chill in Hermione Granger’s veins. This was different. This was crossing a line she had meticulously drawn in the sand of her own morality.
Harry sat slumped in the armchair opposite her, his eyes shadowed. The war had ended, but the battles still raged behind his green irises. Night terrors. Jumping at loud noises. A hollow distance that even Ginny’s laughter couldn’t seem to fill.
“I just feel… fractured,” he was saying, his voice rough. “Like I’m never fully here.”
Hermione’s fingers tightened around her wand. Not her wand—a simple, polished maple rod she used for her work. Her legitimate work. “Traditional spellwork can only do so much for psychological wounds, Harry. The mind… it needs gentler tools.”
“And you think this… hypnotherapy… is the answer?” He tried for a smile, but it was a tired, fragile thing. “Always the clever one, finding a new branch of magic to master.”
Guilt, sharp and acidic, twisted in her gut. She had mastered it. Exhaustively. In hidden corners of the Department of Mysteries, in texts that whispered of influence and subtle persuasion. She’d told herself it was for the greater good—to help. But the private notes in her meticulous script told a different story. Notes on somatic focus. Erotic susceptibility under trance. Building compulsive triggers.
“It’s about guiding your own subconscious to heal,” she said, her voice calm, professional. The lie was smooth. “It requires complete trust.”
“You have it,” he said without hesitation, the faith in his words a heavier burden than any Dark artifact. “Always.”
Hermione drew a slow breath. This is for him. To make him whole. The other, hungrier part of her thoughts remained unspoken. And to see what happens when he is.
“Comfortable?” she asked. He nodded, settling back. “Good. Just watch the tip of my rod. Focus on it. Nothing else exists but the sound of my voice and this point of light.”
She lifted the rod, tracing a slow, clockwise circle in the air. A soft, silver light trailed from its tip, forming a perfect, pulsing spiral. Harry’s eyes followed it, his breathing already beginning to slow.
“That’s it,” Hermione murmured, her tone dropping into a rhythmic, melodic cadence. “Every breath in… relaxation. Every breath out… letting go. The spiral is pulling you down, into a safe, deep place. A place where you can feel… good. Where you can feel nothing but warm, heavy comfort.”
She watched, a clinical part of her mind cataloging the signs. The softening of his jaw. The gradual, total stillness of his limbs. The way his gaze became fixed, glossy, seeing the spiral and nothing else. After five minutes, he was under. A blank slate. Her heart hammered against her ribs.
“Can you hear me, Harry?”
“Yes.” His voice was flat, devoid of inflection.
“You are in a trance. You will remain in this trance, feeling safe and deeply relaxed, until I say the words awaken and clear. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
The power of it was a heady, terrifying rush. He was hers. Completely. The Mind Control Fix protocols she’d studied dictated the next steps. She had to be precise.
“Your conscious mind is resting now. It’s your subconscious that listens. And your subconscious wants to feel good. To feel pleasure. When you are in trance, the concept of pleasure… of sensual feeling… will become magnified. A simple touch will feel exquisite. A warm room will feel like a caress. Your own body will feel like a source of quiet, humming delight. This is a gift your mind is giving itself. To heal. To feel good.”
She saw a faint, serene smile touch his lips. A reaction. Her own skin prickled.
“Now, I am going to give you a key. A key to this peaceful, pleasurable place. Whenever you are alone, and you hear me say the phrase ‘time to unwind, Harry,’ you will find yourself slipping back into this exact state. Instantly. Deeply. And it will feel so good to let go. You will not remember this suggestion when you wake. It will simply be a truth for you. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“When you awaken, you will remember this session only as a very relaxing meditation. You will feel refreshed. Calm. The fractured feeling will be… less. You will be eager to continue our sessions. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
She let a moment of silence hang, just watching him. His chest rose and fell steadily. He looked younger. Unburdened. A fierce protectiveness warred with the thrilling, dark curiosity inside her. What else could she suggest? What other good feelings could she map onto his receptive mind?
Not yet.
“Very good, Harry. On the count of three, you will awaken, feeling clear and refreshed. One… coming up. Two… feeling light and calm. Three. Awaken and clear.”
Harry blinked. He drew a sharp breath, as if surfacing from a deep dive. He looked around, a slight disorientation in his eyes that quickly faded into clarity. He stretched his shoulders, a genuine, easy smile forming.
“Merlin, Hermione. That was… incredible. I haven’t felt that loose in years. It’s like all the noise just… stopped.” He ran a hand through his messy hair, the gesture animated, alive.
The guilt receded, swamped by a wave of triumph. It worked. She worked. “I’m so glad, Harry. It’s a process. We should continue. Weekly, perhaps? You could come to my clinic.”
“Absolutely,” he said, his green eyes bright with hope. “Just say when.”
Hermione smiled, tucking the maple rod away. A tool. A key. Her key.
“How about next Tuesday?” she said, her voice sweet. “Same time?”
“Perfect.”
As he walked her to the Floo, chattering about how good he felt, Hermione’s mind was already racing ahead. Next time, she wouldn’t just talk about sensual feelings. She’d introduce a trigger for a physical response. Something small. Maybe a fingertip tracing his wrist would cause a wave of heat. A shiver. She would build it, layer by careful layer, this new architecture of pleasure in his mind. The first brick was laid. The foundation of trust was absolute.
He hugged her goodbye, a warm, strong embrace. “Thank you, Hermione. Really.”
“Anything for you, Harry,” she whispered into his shoulder, her words a sincere promise laced with a secret she would never utter aloud. She stepped into the green flames, the image of his trusting smile burned behind her eyes. Next Tuesday couldn’t come soon enough.
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Come to Play