Untitled Ravenclaw Story

(c)2005 by Josh Cohen. May not be reprinted except for personal use. JK Rowling owns the Potterverse; I\'m just here playing around in it.

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YEAR THREE: POST-QUIDDITCH ACTIVITIES

Warning: This chapter contains masturbation and a toy. You have been warned.

As I walked through the common room, no one said anything to me, good or bad. I know I held up my end – I had a few shots blocked, but so did everyone else. And I’d made three of our five goals. No, the only person who seemed to be getting blamed was Cho, and even for her it wasn’t that bad. Potter was just that impressive a player.

Damn.

I showered quickly and changed into a pair of soft trousers and a long-sleeved shirt. I wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and sleep for a week and a half.

But when my head hit the pillow, it wasn’t softness I felt but something hard hitting the back of my skull. I reached behind my head and pulled out what appeared to be another pocketwatch. I flipped it open, and a small note in impeccable handwriting floated down onto my chest.


David,

Set it for 6:02. Do it at 1:30 sharp.

Fiona


It was about three minutes until the deadline. I drew the curtains around my bed and Charmed them to turn red, which was an informal signal – at least in our year’s dorm – that the occupant didn’t want to be bothered. The others would probably think I wanted a nap.

But when 1:30 came and I set the watch, the bottom half of it shifted and became a view of another bed. There was the uncertain light of Charmed candles reflected off curtains, and right in my field of view was Fiona.

“I can see you. Can you see me? And hear me?”

I nodded. “But you’re kind of loud.”

“It’s Charmed so only you can. Just whisper.”

“Fine,” I whispered. “What can I do for you? I could really use a few hours of sleep.”

Fiona waved her wand and the light got brighter. I saw that she was wearing a very abbreviated nightgown; it looked like black silk, alive against her milky skin. “David, do you know what I am?”

“Um… a student? At Hogwarts?” She folded her arms across her breasts; the hem of the nightgown was tantalizingly-close to showing me what lay above her thighs. In desperation, I added, “a Beater? A Ravenclaw?”

She just shook her head and chuckled – the sound made my stomach jerk, and things lower than my stomach immediately come to attention. “No, David,” she said softly, “I am a succubus.”

“Is that possible?”

Fiona nodded. Her eyes were very dark now, like mahogany, and her brown hair practically shone. She looked nothing like the mousy girl I’d met months ago, and even more powerful than the Quidditch Fiona I’d come to know. “Faust and I. He’s an incubus. We’re not full, but we’re enough.”

I had a thought. “You’re not feeding on me.”

“Oh, come on, David,” she chided. “I already have.”

I thought about the kiss she’d bestowed upon me before the match. It had ripped the strength out of me, but when I finally managed to get to my feet, I had realized I was feeling better than ever.

“I can share,” she told me. “I shared with you.”

“But why me?”

She licked her lips. “Every time I get close to you, I can feel how much power you have. More than anyone I’ve ever felt here at Hogwarts.” I swallowed. “More than Potter.”

“You kissed Potter?”

Fiona made a face. “No. But Faust has shaken his hand. And he’s shaken yours.”

“I’m not kissing Faust.”

“You don’t have to.” She raised the hem of her nightgown; I could see a small, dark patch of hair where her thighs met. “You don’t even have to kiss me again, if you don’t want to.”

“Well, I… um…” I was going to say something, but she slid her slender fingers between her legs and I watched one disappear between them.

“You what, David?” Her legs spread wider, and I could see that almost all of her index finger was inside of her. I swallowed hard again, shifting my body so I wouldn’t inadvertently brush myself against anything. “What were you saying?”

“I… um…” A second finger joined the first one. “I… wouldn’t mind… um… kissing you again.” The last bit came out in a rush.

Fiona used her free hand to slide her nightgown higher, until smallish, well-formed breasts were revealed to me. I’d seen them before, when I watched her and Pen go at it, but never had noticed how dark her nipples were, like pale milk chocolate. They were pointing straight up, and with her other hand, she started caressing the bottoms of her breasts.

“David,” she said, her voice dripping with sex, “do you like what you see?”

“Very much.”

She smiled, then took her fingers out from between her legs and brought them to her mouth. Her tongue seemed impossibly long as she licked the glistening drops from her hand. “Show me.”

My heart almost stopped.

“Show me,” she repeated. “Show me what I’ve shown you.”

“B… but…”

She started sliding the nightgown downward. “I can take my offer elsewhere, if you like.”

I shook my head. “It’s not that. It’s just…”

“I can see you blushing,” she said. It sounded like she was teasing me. “It’s not like I haven’t seen one before.”

“But you haven’t seen mine,” I half-complained.

The nightgown came a little lower down, almost to her bellybutton. “Then show it to me… or I could go lower…” It covered the gentle curve of her stomach, and the barest etchings of the muscles I knew she had – I’d seen her work out.

I sighed, hard. “All right. Hang on.”

I set the pocketwatch down next to me and took a deep breath, then slid my trousers down to my knees.

“Very good.” The nightgown was back up above her breasts. “Now show me.”

I took another slow breath, then turned the pocketwatch around so the face of it was pointing between my legs. I waited a moment, then whispered, “is that enough?”

“For the moment. But keep it out.”

I turned the pocketwatch around, and when I did, I saw that Fiona had completely removed the nightgown, and I was looking at her body. It was like a picture, it was so perfect. There weren’t any blemishes, any marks, any scars. Just milk-pale skin and the dark places of her nipples and the junction of her thighs. “Why should I keep it out?”

“Because I’m going to do something for you. And then you’re going to do something for me.”

For the next five minutes, I listened intently as Fiona explained everything about her vagina – she told me what it was called, what each set of labia were for and where they were located, where to find the clitoris, where to start finding the g-spot… “The g-spot?” I interrupted.

“A German scientist found it. I don’t remember his name. Now pay attention.”

I paid attention. I committed everything I was seeing to memory.

And then I watched as Fiona produced a flesh-toned cylinder. She Charmed it, and then, as I watched, she slid it into herself, one slow inch at a time.

“Is that… what…”

“Yes,” she whispered, and then moaned. “That’s what happens during sex.”

I watched, my eyes huge, my mouth half-open, and my erection throbbing as she had sex with herself. She caressed her breasts, she bit her lip, she rubbed her clitoris, she arched her back, and then in one long, keening moan, she must have had an orgasm.

Her breasts were heaving, moving slightly on her chest, as she removed the cylinder and brought it to her mouth. She ran her tongue along it, brushing every glistening bit, and then slid it into her mouth. I watched her throat bulge slightly, and I knew that the jokes Kev had made about deep-throating were true for at least one woman.

A moment later, she removed the toy and set it aside. “Now you.”

I tried to speak, but nothing came out.

“Come on, David. I did it for you. Return the favor.”

“But… but…”

She brought her face very close to her own pocketwatch – it must have been mounted on one of her bedposts. “Listen to me, David. You will do this for me, or I will turn off your other pocketwatch. And then, one night, I will send someone to do it for me. It will not be someone you want doing it.”

I tried to swallow. I had heard rumors about that.

“So, David, will you do as I ask?”

I pulled off my shirt and rested it on my chest and my stomach. The very few times I had done this in bed, I had made quite a mess, and I didn’t want to have to explain that to the house-elves. A shirt could be hidden in the laundry.

“That’s what I thought.”

I cast a Temporary Sticking Charm on the back of the pocketwatch and levitated it to one of the bedposts. I saw Fiona nod, and then activated the Charm.

“By all means, David,” she said, running her tongue across her lower lip, “show me.”

I wrapped my hand around myself and started to stroke.


I took another shower before dinner and wadded up my clothes, burying them right in the center of my laundry bag. The house-elves would come as soon as the bag was full – I had about three more days, if my guess was right, before that happened – and clean everything. I slipped into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt (the one with the radioactive cow on it) and some old sneakers and made my way down to the Great Hall for dinner.

Fiona was right next to me, and the moment I put my right hand in range of her left one, she took it – under the table, of course – and I felt her hand grow warm and then hot as it held mine.

“Fiona,” I whispered through gritted teeth, “what are you doing?”

“Taking my payment,” she whispered back.

And I felt it. I felt the warmth that had settled around my hips and between my legs pour its way into my chest, and then down my arm and into Fiona’s hand.

She was feeding on me.

This was not what I signed up for.

But I couldn’t speak anymore. I couldn’t move. I could barely blink. My hand grew colder as hers grew hotter, hot enough that I swear she could’ve burnt off my flesh even though that wasn’t actually happening.

And then it was over. My whole right arm was numb, but I could move again. I grabbed my glass of water and chugged it as quickly as I could, then rested my head in my hands, my breath heaving.

Fiona’s hand, still preternaturally warm, rested on the back of my neck. “Anytime you’d like to share again, by all means let me know.”

I turned to her and watched as her power perceptibly drew into her body and she became, once again, plain old mousy Fiona. She pinned her hair up behind her head and picked up her plate, bringing it down about thirty feet to sit with Karen and Lauren.

Roger sat down right in front of me. “She got you, didn’t she?”

I nodded slowly.

“Enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Why?”

He looked over to make sure Cho was nowhere nearby, and then said quietly, “because I know how it will end. She’ll start slow, and it’ll get to be more and more. But the moment she sleeps with you and gets off with you, that’ll be the last time.”

“Roger,” I whispered, “I’m not going to sleep with her.”

“Oh, you will.” Cho stepped into the Great Hall, and Roger motioned her over. “It’s only a matter of time.”

I finished my dinner quickly, before Padma or Terry or anyone else could sidetrack me. Then I went down to the library and started digging for a book on succubi.

It was in The Changing Fangs of Vampires that I found my answer:

The succubus or incubus is a direct response to the vampire hunts in the days after the fall of Count Dracula of Transylvania. Certain dark wizards worked their powers on the vampires who controlled them, channeling their lust for blood into lust for flesh. It is rumored that, in the early days of succubi and incubi, the very witches and wizards who assisted vampires in their conversions were themselves drained by their creations.

Although certain witches and wizards to this day carry the manufactured lust for the flesh, succubi and incubi – homo sexualis – have been among humans since the earliest days. It is speculated that Lilith, first wife of Adam, was the mother of all succubi and incubi, and although the blood was diluted over many hundreds of generations, as those with certain characteristics of succubi and incubi mate and produce children, the characteristics tend to grow stronger.

Those who possess the gifts of Lilith – the Lilim, a collective noun including all succubi and incubi – can draw power in a number of ways. Lilim who barely have any of the blood will simply feel energized after sexual intercourse. However, Lilim who have more of the blood will draw raw magic out of wizards and witches through intercourse, leaving them drained at first before their natural power re-energizes them. The most powerful of the Lilim are able to feed directly on sexual energy and thought, without actual physical sexual contact as a requirement.

It has been speculated that, as the blood grows stronger, a succubus or incubus will eventually be born to a wizarding couple – as muggles cannot birth Lilim, for magic is required to activate the blood – who will be able to incite the sexual response in others. Theorists suggest that such a thing was possible in vampires who also possessed the gifts of the Lilim, but no such vampire exists today, and if one does, it is keeping quiet about it.

However, stories are told of vampires in the seventeenth and eighteenth century who were able to spread the urge to copulate with a simple touch, and create a circuit of power that could give that vampire nearly-unlimited energy, enough that he or she would not require blood for a time. American vampire researchers, under the direction of Dr. L.K. Hamilton, have spoken with certain anonymous vampires who were present during these orgies of power, and said vampires have stated and restated their wish that this sort of creature never rise again.

Lilim children are birthed in pairs – sometimes as twins, but not always so – and there will always be one girl and one boy. If birth control is used, either magical or muggle, the mother will descend into insanity. For this reason, children are tested for Lilim blood at birth. The powers of the Lilim manifest themselves shortly after puberty, although it is thought that those with more than fifty percent of Lilim blood will engender the sexual response in others even before their birth.

“Ugh.”

“What’s up?” Padma slid into the seat across from me. “What’s so unpleasant?”

I turned the book around and slid it across the table to her. While she read, I manufactured a plausible lie. “I’m working on some extra credit for Professor Lupin since my grades dropped during the run-up to today’s match. Vampire research.”

Padma must have gotten to where I left off, because she echoed my “ugh.”

“I thought so.”

She passed the book back across the table. “That’s just… disgusting. Sucking the power out of people through sex. Ick.”

“Yes, quite.” I closed the book.

“What about your extra credit?”

I shrugged. “I’ll work on it later. I haven’t had much chance to talk to you in the past couple of weeks.”

Padma smiled shyly. “I know. Roger’s been working you and the team like slave labor. At least it’s over for the year.”

“Yes, it is. Completely.”

“There’s no way you can win the cup then?”

I shook my head. “With two losses, it’s not possible. Someone’s going to win at least two games. It’s mathematically impossible for us to take the cup.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Kind of a bummer for your first season.”

“It’s all right. I mean, I never really wanted to play anyway.”

“So why did you?”

I started to think about that, but then I saw Faust and Fiona come into the library. They made for our table.

“Hi,” Padma said innocently. “Good game. It was a shame that Potter caught the Snitch instead of Cho.”

“Yeah. Real bummer.” Faust sat next to Padma; Fiona put her hands on the back of my chair and leaned over. “Mind if I talk to Padma for a moment, David? Alone?”

“Um. Sure.” I got up – with some difficulty, since Fiona was right behind me and I didn’t much feel like knocking her over – and the two of us left the library. I saw Faust’s dark-haired head lean toward Padma, and I slowed.

“You don’t have anything to worry about,” Fiona assured me. “She doesn’t have enough power to make it worthwhile for him to raise it.”

“Oh, that’s just lovely,” I half-grumbled. “That’s as bad as the Slytherins when they say they’ll only accept purebloods.”

“But you’re a half-blood,” she reminded me as we crossed into a deserted hallway. “And I picked you.”

A few moments later, Mr. Filch’s cat offered a stern meow, and Fiona pulled herself away from me. My lips were cool and tingling; Fiona’s milky skin was dusky rose with the flush of power.

My power.

“I’ll see you later, then?” she said.

I didn’t respond until she’d been gone for a minute.

“We’ll see about that.”

“See about what?” Mr. Filch asked sharply.

Fortunately, I had been leaning forward with my hands on my knees, trying to get myself back to normal, so I made a show of massaging my thigh muscles. “Sorry about that, Mr. Filch. I cramped up from the game today.”

He didn’t seem convinced, but it was enough for me to escape his intense eyes and get back to Ravenclaw.

When I got back to my dorm room – I really did have an assignment due for Professor Lupin, and it really was on vampires – the pocketwatch that Fiona had left for me was humming quietly.

I went into the bathroom and flipped it open, then set it to 6:02. Fiona appeared. “What do you want?” I asked her.

“What do you think?”

“Not now!” I snapped it shut, and it just started to hum again.

It hummed as I did my assignment. It hummed as I changed into pajamas. It hummed as I read an article for Herbology.

But when it hummed even between my mattress and the box-spring while I tried to sleep, I brought it into the bathroom and flushed it down the loo.

And until next year’s Quidditch season, that would hopefully be the last I had to deal with Fiona.

Unfortunately, it would turn out that I was quite wrong.

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Dr. L.K. Hamilton is named for Laurell K. Hamilton, author of the Anita Blake series. Just so you know.