Control

Bah. It\'s been a while - been super busy, haven\'t had much time at all. However, I finally wrote chapter 5, and chapter 6 and 7 are still FULLY planned. Chapter 8 is a tad foggy but I have some ideas, chapter 9 is DEFINATELY gonna happen, and 10 will wrap it up.

As I\'ve said before, this will be a 10-chapter fic. It\'s coming along, slowly but surely. It\'s always in my head, the time and motivation to write it oftentimes don\'t happen simultaneously, so hang with me. I do have a LOT of writing planned, and getting this fic done and over with is definitely one of the top things on my list.

Thanks for stopping by, and enjoy! As always, feedback is definitely appreciated - don\'t be afraid to be constructive, I admire honesty and criticism makes us all better writers.

Squick note - this chapter has blood, and yes, it\'s part of the sex stuff. If it squicks you, ya might wanna skip this chapter.

Enjoy! - Slappy


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Chapter 5: Necessity

Harry stood in the center of the room as the multitude of members of the D.A. looked on with respect, awe and wonder. He was not the same person that Ginny remembered watching from the platform almost seven years ago – he was hardened, calloused from the continual battles he was forced to fight, cultured from defensive maneuvers and valiant rescues.

This was the first time she had ever heard Harry Potter mention any type of offensive maneuver. Ginny was impressed with Harry’s continual drive to eradicate the Dark Order in England, and with the help of the Order, she was sure that Harry and his friends in Dumbledore’s Army would succeed. She could read it on him – he would not stop until it was over, even if it was at the cost of his own life. Harry wasn’t afraid of death – he was afraid of failure.

“Right, that will be all for now. Keep practicing body-binds and disarming spells. It may not seem like much now, but ask anyone who was in the Department of Mysteries with us two years ago – we survived the Death Eaters then, and even though the scale is bigger and stakes larger in this case, it is still basically the same. We’re fighting not only for our own lives, but for the very livelihood of those were are fighting for.”

Hermione chirped in, “here is an outline of the lessons thus far, as well as recommended readings for charms and specific defensive spells. If there are any questions, I have rounds all week, feel free to pull me aside so we can discuss it-”

Harry cut her off. “Thanks Hermione. Same time next week? Before we meet, I’ll think of bigger practice dummies, and maybe the Room will give us a Boggart to practice with.”

The students exited the Room of Requirement, chattering among each other. Ron and Ginny helped Harry and Hermione collect their belongings and practice materials. Ginny broke their uncomfortable silence.

“That was an excellent lesson, Harry.”

Harry stacked several pillows in the corner and sighed heavily. He looked up at his friends and asked, “How are we going to do this? How can we protect them all?” He removed his glasses and rubbed his temples. “I can’t help but think they’re walking to their own deaths.”

Hermione took Harry’s hand and pulled him in for a hug. Ron placed a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder and said, “It will be just fine, mate. They know what they’re getting themselves into. It’ll be those bloody Slytherins that will have a surprise coming to them! I bet they’ll be fighting side by side with their parents, and we’ll be there to knock them on their asses.”

Harry nodded before gathering his belongings and leaving the room.

Ginny spoke up, “I’m going to stay for a bit to work on my Patronus. I figure this probably the best place since only we know about it. Do you mind if I stay?”

The trio nodded, gathering whatever else they brought, leaving the remainder of the necessities in the Room of Requirement.

As the students left, Ginny exhaled slowly, tucked her wand away and closed her eyes.

The Room of Requirement silently listened, felt, and read the thoughts of Ginny Weasley. Slowly, the room materialized what she needed – a big bed, bright and vibrant colors cascading the soft linens. Big, fluffy pillows for play fighting and sleepy-headed dreams. Pictures on the walls of friends and family, smiling and waiving at her. Bright, warm sunlight shining in beams through a materialized window. Smells of mom’s cooking in the kitchen, sounds of an occasional explosion; comforts of home, comforts of what Ginny loved.

But this was the Room of Requirement. It read even those thoughts deeper than immediate, wanton thoughts. It read and understood necessity.

She pressed her lips together and clenched her fists, trying to stop the desire, trying to suppress the pervasive thoughts that never left her. This was the` perfect place for it, the timing was impeccable, the entire situation, as a whole, was perfect. But why wouldn’t she let herself think about him? Why couldn’t she get him out of her mind? How was it so that, no matter how hard she tried, no matter how many years she put between success and her experience with him, she wasn’t able to stop it?

Why did she still want him?

Why did she still need him?

Why couldn’t she break free from his control?

She knew what she had to do. She had to confront him.

Ginny fingered the stained parchment in her hand – the last remnant of the diary she encountered five years ago. She lightly bit down on her bottom lip before she let the name escape from her mouth. She parted her lips, letting it lightly hiss out of her.

“Tom…”

Immediately, the warmth left the room. She watched as the pinks and yellows, vibrant and full of life, succumb to the weight of the dark tones of black and hunter green. A chill ran down her spine, spun around to her chest and materialized into smoke, then a haze, and then into a hand that joined a misty form, then a body, then into a man.

Tom.

The cozy bed with the fluffy pillows turned into a dark mahogany framed, stiff bed. The headboard was a mosaic of a dark Wizard, snakes and vine-like plants forming the image of Salazar Slytherin. The sheets were liquid-smooth, pitch-black satin with a shimmering green haze over them. The window that once radiated the room with bright sunlight was now gone, replaced by a hinged wooden door, like that of a dungeon. A dim green light filled the room as shelves formed on the now dank, dark walls, and green candles casting a dull green flame formed on the wooden shelves. The bed stood, a lone figure in this now empty room, commanding attention and demanding use – the only bit of furniture in this prison-like room.

His hands were cold, but his breath was hot ast hst her well-tuned ear. His voice was low, barely inaudible, clearly for her sole attention. “You called for me?” His lips lightly brushed against her flesh as he hissed the words, causing her to shudder against her will.

Tom’s hands searched over her as she pressed her back against him. She didn’t want to face him yet – her eyes were slightly glassy, reluctantly restraining tears that she would not shed in front of him. Ginny didn’t want this – morally, she couldn’t go on, but physically, she could not deny it.

She couldn’t hide the erected nipples. She could not stop the slight shaking of her hands, the goose bumps on her skin, and soon enough he’d find the wet panties, discard them and send her to her sweet release.

But she sure was going to fight it.

As she turned to face him, the dungeon –style window broke, releasing the sunshine she commanded behind it.

Tom’s face beamed; his smile assured and confident. “Ah yes, I see. Miss Ginny Weasley, trying to fight what she knows is a losing battle.” He lifted her chin, forcher her eyes to meet his. Her pale blue eyes, on the verge of tears, looked back, defiant and proud as a warm breeze filled the room, extinguishing the green candles and the bed morphing back to the fluffy image she held in her mind.

His hands reached behind her, cupping her rear end before lifting her up against him as he walked backwards against the wall. The movement was swift and sudden, singular as she pressed against him, pushing him against the wall (now darkening as the sunlight was quelled by another wooden block against the window), grinding herself against his groin, dry, greedy lips pressing against his, moistening under their mutual, wild tongues pushing, twirling and rubbing against lips and mouth.

Tom spur arr around, pressing her against the wall, the hard thud against the wall making her gasp. Ginny opened her eyes and watched as her bright room darkened again, losing its color to Tom’s need for dark, dank and dreary. His mouth moved to her neck, his fingers tearing at her school uniform and ripping her bra clear off of her chest. His hands violently grabbed her breasts, roughly squeezing and his fingers, cold against her hard, sensitive nipples.

The harder he was – teeth biting on her neck, hands roughly fondling her, his erection pushing harder against her thigh – the hotter she got, the wetter was was getting, and the more and more she needed him.

He grabbed the hair on the back of her head, pulled it back, forcing her to look up on him. With a fire in his eyes and needing desire, he ravaged her mouth with his, a kiss lacking grace, yet filled with an immediate need for response. His hands moved, fingers searching through her head, pulling small hairs, adding a tinge of pain to pleasure… pleasure… pleasure…

She stiffened against him, trying with her last coherent thoughts to command the Room of Requirement, pleading for cooperation.

As she straddled against him, he walked backward toward the bed, now materializing to her will – big and soft with sheets of cotton and more pillows than any human being could have purpose for.

Tom collapsed on the bed with her on top, only to be momentarily disrupted by the vibrant colors and comfort of down pillows. She straddled him, still fully clothed, and slowly moved against him. His eyes rolled back as she taunted him, his hands reaching for her hips, guiding her motions as she slid against him.

Ginny smiled as she watched him submit.

He immediately opened his eyes, sat up, grabbed her and flipped her over. Tom strapped her wrists down with his hands and licked his way down her neck in small circles, tasting the sweat beading lightly on her skin. She tried to lift her arms as he held them downt het he looked up and silently commanded her to stay still. Ginny was defiant – she wanted her hands free.

Tom sighed and shook his head as the sheets turned to black satin, the bed returning back to the wood and the headboard displaying the image conjured in Tom’s mind. He pressed harder against Ginny and lightly bit down on a nipple, once again making her stiffen, then finally, slowly relax as a moan escaped from deep within. He pressed his lips between the erect nipple, speaking an inaudible incantation out of the side of his mouth.

His hands loosed their grip as the headboard’s image came to life – thick vines with thorns materializing forward, creeping against Ginny’s skin and wrapping around her wrists, then securing them against the spikes on the headboard.

“TOM! Stop it!” She struggled against the vines, only to be struck by one of the thorns.

He looked up, still with his teeth pressed against her nipple. He shook his head as if to say, “Don’t struggle.”

She understood him, even though no words were spoken.

The vines pulled tight on her wrists, and another set of vines rose around Tom’s body, down to Ginny’s thighs as the thorns tore at her clothing, shredding the remains of her school uniform. Vines wrapped around her ankles, tying her down, binding her to the bed sud submitting her naked form, exposed and powerless, free for his whim.

Ginny’s defiance returned as she writhed against the vines, uncaring as the thorns scraped against skin. Trickles of blood rose to the surface, sharply contrasting red droplets against pale, porcelain skin.

Tom straddled over Ginny, then watched in surprise as the plant scraped his lover’s perfect skin. He finally said, “Stop.”

She shook her head.

“You’re bleeding.”

“I don’t care.”

He sighed as he kissed down her body, down her torso and licked her thighs, lightly sucking on the soft skin behind her knees and finally down to her toes. The blood glistened on her skin, and he pressed his tongue on the wounds, sucking lightly as the metallic-tasting liquid rolled on his tongue. As he licked his way up, a pale pink-tinged trail formed on her shins and thighs. Tom ran his hands up behind her thighs and leaned into her area of pleasure, his eyes looking up, waiting for her to return her gaze.

She reluctantly looked into his eyes. As he tucked his head down and stiffened his tongue, he felt the throbbing against his lips, then the eventual motion of her body as he licked the wetness from her, sucking the milk of pleasure as it moistened his lips, running down her crotch. He brought a hand forth, working her inside as a finger slipped in, his tongue still twirling and sucking the flesh in front.

Ginny finally relaxed as he quickened his pace, making her shutter, writhe, cutting against the vines until she eventually exploded, the room filling with the scent of her orgasm.

Tom rubbed his face in her scent, running his hand over his face and licking his fingers. He sat up and released his erection from his pants, Ginny watching in excited anticipation as he slipped his member loose and guided it inside of her.

“Make the vines come off.”

“No.”

“I promise, I’ll let you stay inside of me. Please, oh for Merlin’s sake…”

He buried his face in her neck as he slowly thrust inside of her, pulling out and watching her face contort as the torture commenced. As she was doing to him before, he was now torturing her.

“Please, take the vines off.”

“No.” He slid inside of her again, thrusting hard and deep several times, shaking the bed. He whispered another incantation, and she felt the vines loosen their grip on her ankles, only to have him bring her legs up, cradling her knees over his shoulders. The vines pulled her legs down tighter as he pushed his hands down on the bed, and then thrust harder and deeper inside of her.

Ginny moaned as he bit her neck again, then felt him contort against her.

He was getting close, and she seized the opportunity.

She concentrated with all her might, pushing aside the needy thoughts of desire, and pleaded with the Room to materialize what she needed. The vines loosened on her arms and legs, and she grabbed Tom’s head, flipped him over and straddled him.

Ropes shot out of the sides of the bed, tied against his wrists and legs as she pressed her hands hard against his chest and moved her body, gliding over him, pushing him deep inside of her as she reached closer and closer to her climax.

Tom opened his mouth to speak and incantation, and she quickly kissed him, confusing him as the sensation neared its peak. She stiffened before her body wildly shook, then collapsed on top of him. Ginny moaned so loudly and so selfishly that she didn’t even hear Tom’s crazed yell, as his own orgasm escaped against his will.

She lifted her head and watched for his eyes as he stared up at the ceiling of the now sun-filled room. He stared blankly at the walls.

Ginny slid off of him and a closet materialized, freshly stocked with another school uniform for her. As she dressed, she watched him with silent satisfaction as he quickly glanced over at her.

She smiled broadly before she said, “Thank you, Tom. I needed that.”

Tom’s expression was blank, then gone as he disappeared out of sight.

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