Ties in the Soul

Author's Note 1: I must report abject failure. I totally underestimated how long it takes to write slow build-up in a sex scene. That and the fact that many of the scenes in this chapter got extended means that this chapter is no longer the last one. There will be another, hopefully next week, which will finish off the climax. My apologies for this.

Anybody who wants to read the original version of Chapter Five let me know. My email address is julian.venere@gmail.com


Chapter 6


It must have looked odd, but it felt normal. She squeezed her body tightly into the corner of her room; her knees pressed tight against the wooden frame of her bed.

Ginny remembered it being a better fit when she was smaller. After the chamber, she had needed somewhere tight to cram herself into. With the walls around her, she had felt safe.

And now she was back: back to being an eleven-year-old girl, fresh from an encounter with Lord Voldemort.

Only this time, she had chosen it.

A small sob shook her body. She wanted to fight the tears, deny them the right to take her over, but she could do nothing against them. She wrapped her arms tight around her chest and surrendered.

Without warning, a soft knock rang out.

She stiffened, but said nothing.

The door opened and Harry walked slowly in. He didn’t turn on the light, but he saw her almost instantly. Making no sound, he came within seven feet of her and then sat down, cross-legged on the floor.

Her heart rate quickened. She couldn’t open her mouth to ask him why he was here. Instead, she stared at his shadow-riddled face for several long, heart-pounding moments.

‘You’re… crying,’ whispered Harry, voice cracking on the third syllable.

‘You’re surprised?’

His eyes reflected a glimmer of starlight through the window. She could see his eyes were wide, almost confused.

‘I would say I’m sorry…’ His words drifted out.

Ginny nodded, her arms tightly wrapped around her pyjama-covered chest.

He began again. ‘I want… I want you to explain.’

‘Explain why I’m a traitorous slut?’ The words spilled out of her mouth.

He stared straight at her. ‘Yes.’

She laughed. ‘Oh, Harry. You have no idea how much I want to explain, to blurt apologies, to beg for your forgiveness. But I can’t. My pride won’t let me.’

‘You owe me the truth.’

Silence rose up, once more, as ties of love and hatred pulled at Ginny’s heart. ‘You’re right, I do,’ she said.

‘I will listen. I can give you nothing more.’

A wave of grief hit her. ‘You stupid, beautiful man.’

He said nothing.

‘But how do I start, Harry? How does anyone explain anything?’

When he did nothing but stare at her and wait, she realised how literally he had meant his promise. He would listen, but could offer her nothing more.

She had no choice but to start somewhere.

‘It’s guilt. When I was twelve, I was used to paralyse people. Tom took the bits of evil in me and brought them out, twisted them. I was his tool.’

Harry’s eyes narrowed. She waited for a comment and then continued.

‘You must believe me when I tell you that I’ve fought him desperately. I fought him in the chamber; I fought his Dementor-fuelled echoes the year after. But there’s a part of me – maybe small, maybe not – that loved being his weapon. That surrender to evil, that letting go of the struggle. I…’

She stopped. How could she be saying this? How could Harry of all people understand a surrender to evil?

‘I did fight, you must know that. I did everything I could in the Ministry, fought Greyback in the Hogwart’s halls. I ran your DA for you until they pulled me out. I tried to get you Gryffindor’s sword. I did… everything I could.’

The last phrase was repeated in helpless surrender.

‘But now, there’s no fight left. Just the emptiness. I couldn’t save Colin. I wasn’t even there for my own brother. Professor Lupin died fighting someone I should have beaten and – oh, you have no idea how brilliant he was to me in second year.’

‘What do you mean?’ Harry asked quietly.

She laughed sadly. ‘He was my Dumbledore.’

They met eyes and she felt, for an instant, that they were sharing something. But she knew she had to keep going, finish some sort of explanation.

‘With the fight gone, I’ve no focus and the need for… other things… has – oh, I don’t know. I’m just a treacherous whore. I have been for every second of each day since Tom got his claws into me. Do you know what that’s like? To have that darkness in you and to try, through sheer force of will, to fight it off?’

Something flashed in his eyes. Anger no doubt. Who was she to make out she’d had things tough? But she continued anyway. There was no way back.

‘And I got tired,’ she whispered. ‘I ran out of will.’

They sat in the dark, him sat cross-legged, her crouched down in the corner, as a long minute of silence stretched out.

Eventually, Harry bowed his head. ‘Who am I to judge?’

She gazed at him, her throat choked up. ‘That’s a silly question.’

‘Is it?’

‘You have every right to judge me, to hate me. What I did was… so wrong.’

He still didn’t lift his head, but spoke with quiet, careful stillness. ‘What is it you want, Ginny?’

‘I… I have no idea.’

‘Do you want me to punish you?’ he asked slowly. ‘Is that what you need?’

Ginny lurched to her feet. ‘No!’

He raised his head and looked up at her dispassionately. ‘It’s only Tom who has that privilege?’

‘What?’ she stuttered. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. You wouldn’t… I couldn’t… You’re you.’

‘I’m me?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You’re Harry. You’ve never even wavered.’

He narrowed his eyes. ‘You think I’m pure. Some perfect hero, a white knight.’

She tried to smile. ‘Well, yeah…’

He stood.

‘You’re wrong.’ With steady steps, he approached the safety of her corner. ‘I don’t know entirely why. Maybe I want to be what you need… or maybe I just want to make you pay for what you did.’

The shadows slithered over his face as he neared.

‘What are you saying?’

‘I want you.’

Ginny swallowed. ‘Wuh?’

‘I want you on your knees. I want you naked. I want you in pain.’

She took a long, shaky breath. ‘Now?’

He stopped inches from her: close enough to touch, to do whatever he wanted.

‘No,’ he said. ‘It is your choice. In two hours, find a way to leave. Apparate to the flat. If you do, it will be consent… to everything I wish.’

She stared straight into his eyes. ‘I understand.’

He raised his hand, as if to touch her cheek, but stopped.

He walked to the door and left.


***


‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’

Harry shook his head.

She glared at him across the kitchen table. ‘You’re not going to hurt her.’

‘That’s kind of the point.’

Hermione’s lips tightened. ‘Sado-masochistic activities should never take place when either party is angry or vulnerable.’

He stared across at her, face blank.

‘You are putting everything at risk,’ she said, finally.

‘What?’

Her face set into a hard, emotionless mask. ‘The war, Harry. You know what I had to do, what I went through. And I didn’t fight for freedom or justice or vague theoretical concepts.’

Harry tried to interrupt. ‘I don’t –’

‘I fought for you.’

His mouth fell open.

‘For you, for Ginny, for Ron… for the people I loved, the people who gave me a home in this world. And if you hurt her, you’re putting everything at risk. Everything I fought for.’

Harry bowed his head, unable to look at her.

Eventually, Hermione sighed. ‘I’ll go put Ron to bed.’

‘You’re sure about doing it yourself?’

She got to her feet. ‘Damage limitation, Harry. As bad as this whole thing could go, Ron bursting in in the middle would make it ten times worse. He’ll sleep sound till the morning.’

Harry nodded.

She walked out.


***


The cool night air felt strange on her skin. It had been a blazing summer day, but the heat was gone. She was still wearing shorts and a T-shirt. The light breeze pricked her skin up in goose bumps.

Ginny faced the door to the flats and opened it with a flick of her wand. She stepped through. Her pulse quickened as she went up the first flight of stairs.

Around her were the doors to ordinary Muggle flats: people watching those tele-viddy sets, chatting over glasses of wine, acting like everything was perfectly normal.

She reached Harry and Ron’s door. She knocked.

Footsteps sounded out. The door opened. Hermione’s concerned face appeared.

‘Hi.’

Heat flooded Ginny’s face as she walked into the flat. Hermione knew? What on earth must Hermione think of this?

‘Uh –’

‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Hermione blurted. ‘I don’t blame you for any of this. It’s just… he’s… well, for one thing, he won’t agree to a safe word.’

‘A what?’

‘It’s a safety thing, but look, I’ve never seen him like this. Are you sure about going ahead?’

Ginny nodded, staring down at the floor. ‘If I can win him back, I’ll do… anything.’

Hermione bit her lip.

Taking a deep breath, Ginny glanced up. ‘You must think I am such a tramp.’

‘I think you’re incredibly brave,’ Hermione said, with a sigh. ‘He’s waiting in the kitchen.’

‘Thank you.’

Not looking back she opened the kitchen door, walked through and closed it behind her.

Harry sat at the table, head bowed. When she shut the door, he raised his head and met her eyes.

‘You’re here.’

‘I am.’

The torture started there. He said nothing, just waited, the hard emerald of his eyes unflinching.

Her heartbeat pounded in Ginny’s ears. She knew an order would come. Or a blow.

Soon.

‘Come to me,’ he said, still seated.

Saliva built up in her mouth. She swallowed it, and took the first step toward him.

‘No,’ he said. ‘Crawl.’

She hadn’t expected the wave of emotion. It struck her hard: told her to run or to fight. That whoever that man sat at the table might be, Ginny Weasley would not crawl. Even Tom had had to make her: he’d had to beat her half to death before she submitted.

She took another step forward, head held high.

Harry raised an eyebrow. It’s him, whispered a quiet voice in her mind. It’s Harry. A flashed image seared across her mind: a twelve-year-old Harry leaning over her, his clothes drenched in blood, in ink.

Summoning her resolve, she sank slowly to her knees, then to all fours. She kept her eyes on him. ‘Like this?’

He nodded.

She crawled to him.

‘Good.’

Still seated, he placed a hand under her chin and pulled her eyes up. ‘I’m going to restrain you.’

She said nothing, knowing no answer was needed.

‘Stay.’

She watched from her lowly position as he got up and went to the kitchen counter. A large, black holdall rested on top. He pulled out a small length of purple material.

He walked back to her.

‘You know, don’t you, that you aren’t my girlfriend any more?’ He stared hard at her. ‘I’m sorry, but you’re less than a whore. You’re giving everything you have for free: your body and your dignity.’

Her throat seemed to constrict. ‘Yes, Harry.’

He nodded. ‘Kneel up. Hands behind you. Push your chest out.’

She did as he said, a fresh blush creeping over her face. Swiftly, Harry tied the purple material around her wrists. It was silk, but he tightened it till it bit into her skin.

Task finished, Harry crouched down on his haunches and cupped her right breast through the fabric of her shirt. ‘I love your tits. I used to revere them. Used to treat them and you with respect, like you were this goddess of beauty.’

He slapped it hard.

‘I was wrong. While I was loving you, respecting you, all you wanted was this.’

Another blow slammed home.

‘Isn’t that right, Ginny?’

She moaned.

He found her nipple through material and twisted. ‘Answer me.’

‘Yes!’ she shouted.

‘Do you know the fantasies I had – that I felt guilty for? Because I thought you were an angel.’

‘I never pre-’

His hand lanced out and gripped her throat. ‘You speak when told to, Ginny. I’m not here for a debate. Neither are you.’

Ginny had a sudden insight into why Hermione had been so scared. There was a monster lurking behind Harry’s eyes. A threat from him that she had never seen before.

She forced out a nod, struggling against the grip on her throat.

‘My dear, beloved Ginny – my hero’s reward. I never treated you like a reward, but I should have. I should have taken every fantasy I wanted from your body. Not been a little schoolboy, fantasising about your tits.’ He let go of her throat. ‘That’s what I’m going to do now. Use every one of your holes. Wring every ounce of pleasure I can from you. Because you are mine. I earned you.’

‘Harry, I know I hurt you –’

He slapped her face. The burn flushed across her skin.

‘Will you obey me?’ he demanded.

Her mouth hung open for several seconds before she nodded her acceptance.

‘I want you to say it.’ He leant his head to one side, looking at her curiously. ‘Tell me who you belong to.’

‘You,’ she whispered. ‘I belong to you.’

It was true. It always had been.

He grabbed her T-shirt by the hem and tore the front apart. Her breasts hung bare, while the rags of her shirt hung to the side, held up by the sleeves.

He went back to the black, holdall bag and pulled out a small flogger. Moving swiftly, he took two steps to her and put the momentum into his swing. The flogger struck across both her breasts.

‘Argh!’

He twisted the flogger and dragged the leather straps across her breasts. She gasped at the sudden sensual touch.

‘How many do you think you deserve, Ginny?’

‘As many as you wish.’

He smiled. ‘Pick a number. If it’s too low, I will add a zero on the end.’

She wanted to please him, but she didn’t know how many she could take. Ten, twenty maybe…

‘Thirty,’ she whispered.

‘Thirty? Hm.’

He attacked, his arm swinging without mercy – one to the left, one to the right. There was no space between blows. The fire built and built, and Ginny hissed air between her teeth to keep from screaming out.

Harry slowed on the final ten, setting himself to a beat of three: lash, pause, savour; lash, pause, savour. As his last blows whipped across her chest, Ginny felt her mind floating free.

When the blows stopped, it took her several long seconds to re-find reality, to reconnect with her battered body and her fast, laboured breathing.

‘Harry?’ she whispered.

A slap struck her cheek. ‘Speak when told to.’

Dizzily, she refocused. He was still stood above her, looking down with cold, unforgiving eyes.

‘Sit on the table, legs spread.’

With her hands bound it was a struggle to get to her feet, but she managed it and did as ordered.

‘Good,’ he said.

At some point he had gotten a pair of kitchen scissors with orange handles. He inserted them just under her hip and cut through the side of her shorts. A sudden pull and she was left with just her knickers.

He knelt fully and slowly removed her socks and shoes. Then he stood, staring at her body, not her face.

‘I can see why you had all the boys in Hogwarts chasing after you. How many of them saw you like this?’

‘Only you.’

He laughed. ‘Saving yourself, were you?’

Ginny mustered some fire. ‘Something like that,’ she spat.

‘I don’t believe you. I saw you with Riddle: his cum on your face. If you couldn’t even resist that evil snake, how can I trust you with anybody else?’

She glared back.

‘Spread those legs wider.’

She forced them open another inch and Harry delivered a blow with his hand to her cunt.

‘I bet you begged them to fill you up. I bet you couldn’t wait to drop your knickers.’

He placed his hand on her knickers and pulled them to the side, revealing her cunt to his gaze. She was slick already and the cool air against her damp folds sent a shudder racing through her chest.

Two fingertips dipped inside her. He pulled them out and showed her the glistening moisture. Shame raced to her heart. She waited for his mocking comment: for him to laud his power over her.

‘You will continue to obey me?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then lick.’

He placed his fingers against her lips. Her own smell swept into her nostrils.

‘Lick my fingers, Ginny.’

Reluctantly, she opened her mouth and tasted herself, and she knew how clever Harry was being. Taste was a sense that couldn’t be denied. He had beaten her and she was wet. The evidence of her arousal would linger in her mouth.

‘Suck,’ he ordered.

She sucked his fingers clean and he pulled them out.

‘Now, let’s have you back on your knees. I have a few more fantasies that need fulfilling.’


***


Hermione, still in the corridor, had conjured a spell window. For her, the wall was transparent and she could see everything. Simple magic, yes, but she was aware that it was also morally abhorrent. While Harry must have known she was staying, ‘just in case’, he had probably expected her to sit in Ron’s room, and Ginny would be mortified to know she was being watched.
But she felt strongly that she had no choice. What if Harry really did lose it? How could she sit back and do nothing?

Harry had Ginny back on her knees and he was taking his cock out.

A torrent of mingled thoughts ran through Hermione’s mind: Oh fuck, that’s Harry’s cock… I can’t believe I’m doing this… it’s a nice size, though… oh, what am I thinking… Ginny’s quite pretty, too – she has a really shapely back… wait, is he trying to gag her with that thing…

And worst of all was the slow, steady throb in her clitoris that she was desperately trying to ignore.

She had a feeling this was not going to end well at all.




Author's Note 2:

Daye - thanks so much for the comments; they mean a great deal - as for your question, the original chapter 5 featured a darker Harry, some pretty heavy humiliation of Ginny and an explanation for why Harry was going dark.

RedWhammi - I really appreciate your thoughtful review and I'm sorry about delaying the climax for yet another week - regarding grammar, would the line work if there were hyphens instead of commas?

Salon_Kitty - cheers, as always, for your enthusiasm and insight!