Furry Magic

Title: Furry Magic, chapter 97

Disclaimer: Not mine. HP belongs to someone else.


The thick, yellow, miasmic fog began to clear. It's choking drifts thinned. He came up from the depths. He started to realize where he was, what was happening. He ached all over, his face, his arms, his chest, his legs, his pelvis, everywhere.

There was weight on top of him. Panic tightened his throat. He almost struck out when the odor hit him full force. Pain scent, fear, mourning, sadness, sex, hatred. It was enough to suffocate someone. It gave him pause. The man on top of him, slumped over, still hard, inside of his body...it was Amrys?

Amrys. How had that happened? A flash of distant recall. Then he remembered, like a film, like a mirror of truth, he saw what had happened. The scent of dear, sweet, kind love, the scent of Draco, Yaji and Mantheer, passion, adoration. Good, clean scent...then.....

Something different. Something dark, sinister, malignant. Something crafted only to cause harm. Something that rode on the pure smell of love and happiness, of honest, caring desire, but carried none of that purity. Something foul that twisted everything.

Something that twisted his own desire, into a frenzy of darkness, of lust that would not ease. Harry shuddered, crawling up from that frightening pit. And he saw what he had done while caught up in the...spell. He saw the way he'd burned, and the way he had not found any relief. He had scratched his love, deep, hurtful, he had demanded more and more and more. He had not been able to stop, driven right over the edge, seeking pain, and sex and more pain.

It was so not him, that Harry did not find it possible to blame himself...or the man sobbing on top of him. Amrys was waking from his own nightmare. And crying for the harm he had caused. Amrys. Who was good, and strong and kind, and did not deserve to take the blame for any of this. Amrys who needed to be told he was forgiven, that the harm was not his, that all would heal and be OK.

Harry raised his arms. Folded them around the shaking were-leopard. "Peace." He said.

######

Dumbledore was caught by surprise, bending down over his desk when the pain struck. In a place that had only ever given him pleasure. He straightened up with a snap. He was erect, achingly, painfully erect. Not an erection that promised enjoyment, not an erection that might prompt him to take out his spy-glass and look for sweet young flesh to ease it. No, this was not anything like that. He wanted this to go away. Now.

Dumbledore groped over to a chair and sank down into it. He cupped his swollen genitals and moaned. He could not credit this sudden agony! He could not bear it. He reached for his wand, tried a comfort spell. Then he tried a healing spell. Then a numbing spell. Then a spell to shrink. Nothing helped. He moaned again.

He would not panic. Staggering to his feet he headed out to the infirmary. To Madame Pomfrey, and her cures. She would be able to help him. He was sure of it. He only rarely had needed her cures, but they had never failed him.

The short walk was nothing less than a living, burning hell. He shuffled his feet, because to lift them off the floor was unbearable, knives piercing into him. Merlin! He felt now, as if he would never, ever want sex, or an erection again. Never. In fact the idea of sex....he bent over and vomited all over his shoes and the sweeping hem of his robes. The floor rose up to meet him.

^^^^^

Amrys woke. His mind going from confusion to clarity in the space of seconds. Oh, ghod. What had he done? He had raped.....the Chosen. Harry. He had raped Harry. His howl split the air.

Then arms. Warm, loving, forgiving. He smelled it. No more darkness, it was burned away. He smelled the smell of the pride. Of forgivenessss, of acceptance, of love. For him. He smelled his king. He smelled Harry. He smelled Graeme, and Jonas and Kaithas. All of them. And.... He smelled the one he loved. He smelled anger, fury really, and...he smelled that Severus....loved... him.

Harry's hands were stroking him. Harry's body was warm around him, enveloping him. Amrys felt his erection ease, slipping out of the Chosen's body. Harry let out a sigh. He turned his head, and kissed the damp brow of the golden leopard. "Peace." He said, his tenor voice holding forgiveness, and love, and the sound of the pride. Amrys was of the pride. He was not cast out. He was pride. He was pride. They held him.

Stronger arms held him. The arms of the king, long and strong and sheltering. Of Graeme, his friend. He felt the tears falling from them onto his face as they eased him into comfort. They petted him, licked him, cuddled him. Lucius pressed his head to his chest. Offered him sanctuary. And Harry did not flee from him in horror. The Chosen snuggled up, to him, lay his head on Amrys' shoulder, and let out a long sigh. "Peace." He said again. And the voice gave Amrys that. Peace.

*******

Dumbledore woke in the infirmary, with Poppy bustling around. She approached his bed just as he realized the agony was not gone. He bent his knees and groaned, holding his throbbing, bursting penis. He shook his head in negation. It could not be. Why had he not been healed?

"Albus. I can see that you are not feeling well, not any better. I am sorry." She leaned down over him. He kindly face full of concern. She watched him, her eyes very sharp.

"What is wrong with me?" He hissed out between his clenched teeth. He barely held back a groan, barely kept from begging her to help him.

"You have an erection, and it is causing you pain because it is not going down." She told the Headmaster of Hogwarts. "I am certain that it was caused by a spell. I haven't been able to break the curse."

He fought not to snap at her. He knew that. He had felt it, right before he passed out when he vomited after thinking of sex....The gorge rose again, immediate, and harsh. He flung himself over to the side of the bed and vomited over the edge.

It took him several gut wrenching minutes before he fell back onto the bed, sweat drenched. Poppy handed him a wet cloth. He mopped his face and brow. Ghod. The very idea of sex made him ill...his stomach heaved again. He forced it down.

"Yes. How can it be healed?" He gasped at last, exhausted, pained. He lowered the cloth and pressed it to his burning crotch. It almost helped. Almost.

"Well. That is the catch I am afraid. There is no way. I am afraid you will merely have to wait." The medi-witch said.

Wait! he could not! "The pain. Can you take away the pain?" He begged.

She shook her head. "No. I have tried everything. Nothing has been effective. I am sorry, Albus." But her eyes....his brow furrowed. They glittered strangely.

"How long?" He gritted out. This was not bearable.

"A day, a week, perhaps two weeks at most. Until it falls off." Poppy said, her voice low and sweetly sympathetic. "The pain will go away once your penis has fallen off."

Dumbledore stared at her in disbelief. "There must be something you can do! I can't be emasculated!"

Poppy leaned in even closer. Her face changed, became narrower, tighter, feral, hate filled. "Did you know you talk in your sleep, Albus? While you tossed and turned. you gave a most amazing confession." She was mere inches from him, he tried to shrink back into the piled pillows. Trying to fathom what would make the efficient, kindly healer behave in this odd manner. They had always gotten on so well.

"You filthy, horrible man. I know." She snarled at him. "I KNOW. Everything you have done, every foul thing you have made these children suffer. I KNOW. It *is* going to rot off, Albus." And she stalked off.

&&&&&&&&

And at last. The voice. Velvet rich. Caressing. He'd heard it raised in wordless passion. He'd heard it in snarky impatience. He'd heard it take charge. He'd heard it kind, soothing. Now he heard it filled with love. He heard Severus, saying his name. He heard Severus.

Then he reached out. And he held him. His love. His Severus. And Amrys, at last felt the fullness of peace Harry spoke of.

ne'ichan
faestion1@yahoo.com