Enslaved

A/N: I'm so sorry it's taken so long to update this story, I hope I haven't lost all my faithfully readers and reviewers! Updates will be coming much more frequent now as I'm nearly at the end of this story.

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Fucked Up

Harry sat where he was in bed, staring at the closed door, a feeling of emptiness sitting in his chest. How had this happened to him? How had he allowed himself to feel this way about Pansy Parkinson? He shivered, guilt inching its way through his system the longer he stared at the door, he couldn’t get the painful expression on her face out of his mind.

“Harry?” Hermione whispered, trailing a finger down his arm. “Are you ok?”

“Leave me alone, Hermione.” Harry replied quietly.

“I don’t understand.” Hermione admitted, shoving her hair from her face and wiggling into a sitting position. “Why are you so upset?”

“Just let it be, leave me alone,”

Hermione shook her head, squeezing his bare shoulder lightly. “I’m your friend, Harry, I want to help. Talk to me,”

“Friend?” The word sounded strange to him now, almost laughable. “Friend? How can you sit there and say that?”

“Because it’s true.” She told him firmly. “I am your friend, I care about you, Harry.”

He laughed bitterly, tugging the bed clothes further up his body. “If we’re friends how come we let things get like this? My friend Hermione would never be naked in my bed,”

Hermione smiled and wiggled closer to him, pressing a soft kiss to his collar bone she said, “maybe we were meant to be more than just friends.”

Irritably Harry shrugged her off, “This is so fucked up!” He yelled, running a hand through his hair with exasperation. “You are with Ron, that’s where you’re meant to be and you know it. Whatever this thing is between us is nothing, it’s not important. It’s completely fucked up!”

Hermione shrank away from the anger in his face, pulling the bed sheet tighter around her chest. “You can’t really mean that, Harry.”

“Well I do. I do mean it! If Ron ever found out about this you’d be devastated, there’s no point in you even trying to deny the truth of that. It could ruin everything there ever was between the three of us all because you happen to be horny all of a sudden.”

Hermione’s cheeks flamed red hot with embarrassment and she lowered her head from his face, allowing the soft waves of her hair to shield her face. “Don’t say things like that,” she whispered.

“Why not? Why do you have a sudden problem with the truth, Hermione?” Harry demanded heatedly.

“I don’t have a problem with the truth,” she snapped raising her eyes to his defiantly. “You’re the one whose trying to avoid facing up to what you’re feeling!”

Harry scowled, “well not any more! I know how I feel and I’m willing to admit it, I was going to say something and then you turned up and ruined it all!”

“Me? Ruined? What are you talking about?” Hermione’s eyes grew wide as she stared horrified at him, her hand shooting out to grip his arm tightly. “Tell me what you mean.”

A long harsh sigh left Harry’s lips and as he shook his head. “It’s not you, Hermione. I don’t want you. I’m sorry, but I don’t.”

“But … but you must.” Hermione stammered uncertainly.

“No I don’t, and you don’t really want me either.” Harry told her firmly. “Will you go away now?”

Hermione stared at him for a few seconds, unshed tears glimmering in her eyes. She shivered at the indifferent way Harry spoke to her, the way he so easily dismissed her. She was his friend, how could he just brush her aside in this way?

Swallowing back the plea that threatened to escape her Hermione swung her legs over the end of the bed and stood up. She chanced a glance over her shoulder to see if Harry was watching her, but he wasn’t, his eyes stared unseeingly at the door, a mixture of pain and frustration etched on his handsome features.

Grabbing her robe Hermione slid the garment over her shoulders and turned to face Harry. Kneeling beside the bed she took his hand in hers and squeezed his fingers gently. “Harry, when you realize what we could have together let me know, ok?”

Irritation flashed through Harry that Hermione was refusing to listen to him, that she was being so blind as to what was in front of her. “Don’t talk a lot of crap, Hermione. You’ll hate me for hearing this one day soon when you return to your senses. Go to sleep.”

Hermione left his room after that, as quietly as she had arrived and Harry felt his tension leaving with her. Closing his eyes he sank back against the head board, balling his hands into useless fists at his side. What was he meant to do now? What did he do about Pansy?

Deciding that he couldn’t sleep Harry got up and left his room, heading straight to Ron’s room. Maybe just seeing Ron would help him. Entering his friends bed room Harry crept to the side of the bed and looked down at Ron’s sleeping face. He looked so still and pale that for a heart stopping moment Harry thought Ron was dead!

The gentle rise of the bed sheets told him that Ron was very much alive, but Harry didn’t like the look of him at all. He seemed weaker somehow, paler, less alive if that was possible. Grabbing Ron’s wand from beside the bed he lit the candle that sat on the night stand, he was willing to risk the complaints that came from Ron at being woken just to reassure himself his friend was alright.

“Merlin!” Harry hissed a breath as panic shot through his system. “PANSY! HERMIONE! COME QUICK!” Harry’s hand that held the candle up high over Ron waved frantically as he waited for an eternity until Pansy came through the door.

“What are you yelling about?” She demanded, crossing her arms over her chest and scowling coldly over at him.

Harry turned to her with wide frightened eyes, “Pansy, do something,” he croaked, pointing at Ron’s sleeping form.

Frowning Pansy edged closer to the bed, her eyes, red rimmed from crying picked out the problem immediately. The white sheets where stained crimson with blood. So much blood, the stain kept getting bigger and bigger the longer she looked at it. Her hand flew to her mouth as she gasped horrified. “What’s happened to him?”

Harry shook his head mutely.

Hermione appeared, flying into the room at top speed and bending over Ron. After her initial scream of shock Hermione was all business, she tended to Ron’s gaping splinch wound as best she could annoyance flooding her that Pansy and Harry could do nothing but stand and stare at her.

“Ron? Ron can you hear me? It’s going to be alright, I’ll get you fixed up a little and then I’ll take you home,” Hermione’s voice was calm and cool when she spoke, although her hands shook dreadfully and she kept dropping her wand.

Everything seemed to pass by in a blur to Harry, as he watched Hermione and her competent handling of the situation. He felt cold as he watched Ron, fear slicing through him that he had come too late, that Ron was going to leave him.

Hermione turned to Pansy worry and fear in her eyes as she spoke. “I’m going to need you to take him, it’s safer than apperation. Harry will tell you where to go.”

Pansy nodded and moved quickly, securing Ron in her arms, wincing as he moaned feebly at being moved. “Harry?”

Pansy’s urgent question pierced Harry’s mind and he blinked rapidly. “Take Ron to The Burrow,” he ordered, his voice thin and strained.

A loud clap echoed around the room and Pansy was gone. Hermione was up off her knees, pushing past him and running down the hallway before Harry could speak. He heard her rummaging in her room for something before she sped by the open doorway again and thundered down the stairs. “Harry! Stay here!” She yelled back to him.

Harry ran a hand over his face and slowly dragged his feet out of the door and into Pansy’s bedroom. He flopped down on the bed and closed his eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of her lingering on the covers. The house seemed eerily silent as he waited for Pansy’s return, his own breathing sounded loud in the small room and Harry screwed his eyes tighter into their sockets.

An eternity seemed to crawl by before he heard the sound of soft footsteps coming up the hallway. “Harry? Harry where are you?”

“In here, Hermione,”

Hermione entered the room, pausing in the doorway to survey him quietly. “Are you ok?”

“Fine. How’s Ron?” Harry wiggled into a sitting position.

Hermione sniffed and came to sit on the bed beside him. “Mrs Weasley says she thinks he’ll be ok, but he’s badly hurt. Pansy is going to stay with him over night, it will be quicker and safer to send messages through her than by patronus if we’re needed.”

Harry nodded dully. “Suppose I hadn’t gone in to see him?”

“He’d have bled to death.” Hermione hissed, tears clogging her voice. “Oh, Harry… what if you hadn’t…?” The rest of her sentence was lost a she started to cry, flinging herself at Harry and hugging him tightly.

Rubbing soothing circles on her back Harry made shushing noises in her ear as he battled his own tears. “What kind of friend am I, Hermione? I only went in to see him because I couldn’t sleep, because I felt guilty over what had happened between us. I don’t deserve Ron as a friend,”

“Oh you do,” Hermione insisted. “Harry you do. You’re a good friend, honestly you are. You mustn’t think those thoughts.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You’re good, Harry, you’ve always been a friend to Ron, even when he didn’t deserve you.” She kissed him again, her tears wetting his cheeks.

“I don’t deserve Ron, not the other way around.” Harry muttered.

Hermione’s lips caressed his cheek as her hand stroked the side of his neck. “That’s not true. You’re wonderful, Harry,” she breathed, turning his face towards her and kissing his lips lightly.

“Hermione….” Harry’s hand rose to her shoulder intending to push her away.

“It’s alright,” Hermione assured him, kissing him again, her tongue tracing over his bottom lip. “Trust me, Harry, you need a friend right now.”

The friend he needed was Ron, but Ron was battling for his life and Harry couldn’t be there for him. He wanted Pansy, but he had pushed her away, hurt her more than he had ever intended to and Harry didn’t know what to do to put anything right.

“Everything’s alright,” Hermione’s warm voice floated to him through his haze of misery and self pity. Her lips touched to his collar bone, to the pulse beating rapidly at his throat. She trailed line of soft kisses down his chest, her teeth grazing over his nipple causing him to shiver.

Her tongue stroked down his stomach, her fingers peeling his boxer shorts from his body. Hermione’s breath caught in her throat as she gazed down at his rock hard erection. Tentatively she reached out and curled her hands around him, her fingers stroking the silky skin over the rigid muscle beneath.

Licking over the tops of his thighs Hermione inched nearer to her destination, half afraid Harry would make her stop before she could get to him. Her lips brushed a feather light kiss across the quivering tip of him and she raised her eyes to his face.

Harry wasn’t looking at her, he was staring up at the ceiling. Anger coursed through her that he was going to let her do this as a way of blocking out his guilt while pretending it was Pansy Parkinson and not her who brought him pleasure.

She wouldn’t let him, Hermione was determined that Harry would know it was her, that he would be forced to acknowledge her. “Harry,”

Harry’s eyes lowered to her face. Hermione’s eyes caught his and she held his gaze as she swiped her tongue over him. Slowly she took the head of his cock between her lips, sliding down his hardened length with deliberate slow motions.

The green of Harry’s eyes darkened, as Hermione brought her mouth back up his erection, her eyes never leaving his. Her tongue curled around him as she sucked unhurriedly, her hand dropping between his legs to cup his balls.

Harry shivered at the delightful sensations rippling through his body, he struggled to breath with Hermione’s eyes locked onto his and he sank further into the pillows. As he did, Pansy’s scent wafted over him, tickling his nostrils causing an ache to materialize in his chest and he gasped with shock, tearing his eyes away from Hermione’s.

Small lines appeared in Hermione’s forehead at Harry breaking their eye contact. Her body had been reacting to the sexual hunger she saw swirling in his eyes, and her underwear was enjoyably wet as she had anticipated the events to unfold this evening.

“Stop it,” Harry hissed through grit teeth.

Surprise had Hermione faltering in her rhythm. Her fingers held his balls loosely as she tried to process what he had just said. When no further words came from him, Hermione restarted her administrations, her tongue rubbing tantalizingly against his harden flesh.

“Hermione, stop right now!” Harry yelled, turning his blazing eyes to her face.

Hermione was quick to see the difference in his eyes. They were no longer hot and hungry, but hot and angry. She released him completely and sat back on her heels. “What’s the matter?”

“Don’t touch me, I don’t want you.”

She smiled coyly at him, her fingertips stroking his cock softly. “That’s not how I see it.”

Harry scowled, “well of course my body is going to react to being sexually stimulated isn’t it? That doesn’t mean I want you. I don’t. Leave me alone and don’t ever pull a trick like that again.”

“I didn’t …”

“Yes you did, you took advantage of my guilt and the fact that I’m miserable. You’d have enough to say if some boy thought they could do the same to you. Now for the last time get out!” Harry raged, tugging his boxer shorts back into place.

“But…” Hermione began desperately.

“OUT!” Harry roared, flinging his arm out to point at the door so violently he almost knocked Hermione off the end of the bed.

Hermione jumped to her feet and scurried from the room, slamming the door after her.

Taking off his glasses Harry curled into a ball, hugging Pansy’s pillow close to his body. When had everything become so fucked up? He was going to have to do something about this and he knew it. He was going to have to tell the truth and hope that Pansy believed him.