Where Heroes Rush In

Warning: Harry is 17 and Ginny is 16 in this.

Where Heroes Rush In

“Wake up.”


Wakey, wakey, Potter. Time for another beating.


“Harry, wake up.”


The sound of sordid laughter faded away as the girl’s voice grew more present. Someone was here, Harry sensed, someone with Ginny’s voice. His eyelids quivered manically as the eyeballs rolled around underneath; Harry saw only rapid lines on the inside of the sockets, imagining the whites of his eyes floating up like the belly of a dead fish breaking the surface of a lake. As consciousness seeped into his mind, the clouded space in his head suddenly flickered like a television screen as pictures started to formulate, sharpening into view the more he concentrated. A face came into focus, the visage twisted by furious glee before a fist was coming at him, straight to his cheek, to his eye, his jaw. His head throbbed in recognition.


“Harry, please, you’re really starting to scare me,” he heard the voice whimper.


His mouth turned downwards at her insistence and now he was definitely fighting to get his eyes open. It WAS Ginny, he was sure of it. She was in the room with him; he must have saved her, must have gotten her away from that monster. But he couldn’t remember how. And what he could remember he really didn’t want to think about, his brain reminded him. It was all bad (bad, bad, bad), nothing worth reviewing there. Where could he have taken them, though, realistically? His senses continued to hone to his surroundings while he tried to get his thoughts together, tried to reason with himself that this couldn’t be a dream yet he couldn’t possibly have gotten them out of the manor. There was a vaguely floral scent mixed with something spicy in his nostrils, the pungency of it doing strange things to his groin. He was able to determine that he must by lying on someone’s bed as the feel of his weight sinking into a soft mattress intensified, his hands flexing over a fluffy duvet. Harry turned his head towards the direction of the voice, hoping she would speak again. Fingers brushed over his chest and traveled down to his stomach, instead. His eyes snapped open in shock, burning brightly for a moment as lights and color assailed them. He felt skin on skin. He wasn’t wearing clothes, he suddenly realized, and this more than anything caused Harry to struggle to sit up.


“Harry! Oh, thank Merlin. Wait, be careful. Try to move slowly. You’re still healing.” Her hand flew up to his chest again, while the other pressed against his back trying to help him up. He was warm where she touched him but as soon as she pulled away, it was like ice running under his skin. His head still throbbed, and there was now an aching pulse that flared up in his limbs and back like fire through a dry forest even as his heart beat madly. Harry felt like he’d been torn apart then stitched back together and a groan rumbled in his throat once he got to a sitting position.


Ginny’s face loomed before him, her features still blurry, but at least he could make out the long swath of copper that was her hair as well as some pinkness below her neck. Hands reached towards him with something black in their grip and he jerked back, at first, but then she was cooing over him softly, holding the object closer to him for inspection. “I was just going to put your glasses on for you. Don’t worry, Harry; you’re all right now. No one will hurt you up here.”


“Gin,” he croaked before stopping to swallow painfully. His throat felt raw, as if the inside of it had been scraped out with hedge clippers. He took his glasses out of her hand and went to put them on, but something stopped his movement halfway with a hard clink. There was a metal cuff around his wrist; it cut into his skin as he tugged inciting a cavalcade of images to hit him in a wave of nausea. He yanked the chain again to test its hold, the reverberations coursing down his arm. Harry hadn’t saved anybody.


Staring blankly at the blurry body in front of him twisting away, he waited for an explanation. When she leaned back into him, a cool, glass of water was placed into his hands and then she affixed the familiar frames to his face. Harry focused on the glass once his vision was corrected and took greedy gulps, tilting it lower so his hand could reach his mouth. The liquid soothed the pain with its numbing cold as he swallowed again, but when he caught sight of Ginny over the rim, the water quickly went down the wrong pipe and he was spluttering it all over himself. His coughing fit went on for several minutes as Ginny took away his drink and slapped him a few times on the back. By the time his breathing had calmed, he was wide-eyed and frozen in shock.


Harry gaped at the spectacle that was Ginny Weasley kneeling in front of him, his eyes scraping over her body feverishly while his face heated up, sure that he must be turning bright red. His supposed ex-girlfriend was as naked as the day she was born. Well, not completely nude, his jumbled mind acknowledged somewhat distractedly, as he stared horrified at the jewelry currently adorning her upper half. Ginny was wearing a brown leather collar around her lovely neck, a large, silver ring set in the middle while her hair tumbled to either side attractively. Tethered to the ring were two strands of chain link extending down her chest before ending abruptly at each rosy nipple. Nipples that seemed to be pierced by small silver hoops, Harry’s mind boggled, part of his brain appreciating how they were highlighted even as another voice told him to avert his eyes like a proper gentleman. As soon as she noticed how visibly affected he was by her appearance, Ginny straightened her back taller and made to cover her breasts, but not so much that Harry couldn’t see how the chains pulled taut to her neck, the plump, smallish mounds being dragged upwards in the motion and her nipples still hard pebbles as the rings flipped over them in the tug. Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away from the vision of it, but that wasn’t even all there was to see. Aside from sporting her own pair of restraining bracelets, a second set of chains strained in the other direction from her breasts as she sat up from her haunches, making lines down her belly and then fanning out to either side of her mons, slipping underneath the minge between her legs to disappear to who knew where, he couldn’t even begin to guess.


Minge? What minge, you twit? the appreciative voice taunted, his gaze now fixed to the sight of her bald sex. While this might have been his first look at the female form so up close and personal, he knew enough about Ginny’s body that he was aware she didn’t normally look like that. His memory jumped to their snogging sessions by the lake, near the entrance to the Forbidden Forest. There had been that glorious day when she had guided his hand inside of her knickers and he had felt every inch of her down there, his tongue down her throat earnestly trying to express how much he had wanted to make her feel good. When she had put her hand to his zippered crotch, Harry had almost come right then. Somehow, though, they had managed to work things out so that both could stroke each other off in their clothes while they kissed, eventually masturbating each other to climax. Harry hadn’t even been embarrassed about the mess he had made, but had sighed right into her mouth in his bliss, feeling so close to her at that moment. All that night, he had kept licking the taste of her off of his fingers, wanking a few more times with the lucky digits right under his nose before the morning had come. But she had definitely had hair down there, for he had felt it, fantasizing how close in color it would be to the hair on her head once he finally got to see it.


The idea of someone…something making her look like this, however, doing things to her body to change her, was causing his gorge to rise and distressed sounds escaped his lips as soon as he managed to close his mouth and eyes. Now he felt like his body was being licked by flames as his rage flooded him, the fever in his head making him woozy. Ginny seemed to understand his unease and put her hand to the side of his head, caressing his cheek while she shushed him.


“It’s all right, Harry. It didn’t hurt or anything. It’s not as bad as you think, don’t go getting upset again. You’ve been through enough, already. Please, just lie back and let me take care of you. You’re still burning up.”


He couldn’t do as she asked. He had to know what had happened, where they were, how long he had been knocked out, and he had to know the details right this very minute. He thought about Hermione and Ron back at Shell Cottage, how they’d argued with him over his plan to save Ginny as soon as they’d heard she’d been captured by Voldemort’s Death Eaters. But he’d ignored their reasoning and deliberations, opting instead to take off in the middle of the night and wing it on his own. Of course, that hadn’t worked out very well and he’d failed spectacularly, but he’d almost come to expect that. It was his fault Ginny was taken, was ever a target to begin with, so it was his responsibility to get her out of this. He couldn’t possibly have left her to fate while the fractured Order tried to come up with some tactical mission to retrieve her. He had wanted to get to her as soon as he could, whatever it took, and if that meant he had to offer himself up so she could go free, then that was what he meant to do. But here they both were, still. Something had gone very wrong with his estimations. Harry had been unprepared for the depths of their hatred, the very means of their depravity a shock to his sense of decency. He thought he had been ready for death, that he had understood their cruelty, but had not fully realized what they were capable of, really. Not even close.


“What’s happened? What have they done to you?” he cried hoarsely as he grabbed hold of her bound wrist, pressing his thumb under the steel bracelet tightly, but glad to be able to have her face to fixate on instead of her body.


Harry spun his head around wildly trying to discern their location and see who was with them, but the elegant, spacious room only confused him. He and Ginny were the only two occupying it, from what he could see. Everything went topsy-turvy for a moment, his vision going blurry again, and he had to stop and take a deep breath, closing his eyes to get back his balance before looking around much slower this time. It looked very grand and regal with all of its purples and red velvet on the walls, the furniture plush and expensive looking, but this could have been any of the bedrooms if they were still in Malfoy Manor, it didn’t have to mean they were in the devil’s lair itself. Would Voldemort’s room be any less ostentatious than this, however? Not bloody likely. He could only spot one door on the far side and there were no windows at all, which he found worrying, making him wonder what floor they were on. Harry grabbed Ginny by the shoulders, the shackles on both of his wrists digging into his flesh from the pull as he attempted to mentally line up his multitude of questions. They were all quite muddled, however, like they’d been written on wet parchment, and he was having a hard time concentrating. His voice still sounded rough and the pain in his throat persisted, but he needed answers.

“Gin, tell me everything. Start from the top. How did they even get to you? We’d heard that you never made it home from the train and then Bill—that horrible message they left at the Abbotts massacre. Neville was still in a coma—he—but why—how long have you been…what the fuck happened to you?” he finally demanded, his voice going shrill. His hand dithered in front of him spastically as he motioned to her collar, but he didn’t know how else to say it, didn’t know how to address the horrible scenarios currently running through his head.


She looked down at her nudity as if only just noticing her accessories and then peered up at him sheepishly through the cover of her bangs, her mouth open. Instantly, her face crumpled in despair.


“Never mind me; what were you thinking, Harry?!” she cried in exasperation. “Of course, you weren’t thinking at all, were you? You played right into their hands! You did exactly what they wanted and almost died in the process! I thought, for sure, you were going to slip away in my arms! Do you know how that felt?!” Tears were falling down her cheeks now as she berated him, but her voice softened as she moved closer, her hand settling on his waist while her expression grew beseeching. “They were never going to let me go, but they knew you’d come running, anyway. You have to be willing to sacrifice others to the cause, Harry. I don’t matter. It’s you they wanted, and now they’ve got you. You’re truly lucky that you’re still alive.”


Harry squeezed one shoulder tightly trying to impart some sense of remorse at his fuck-up, but not imagining how he could have reacted any differently. “Gin, I could never have left you here. It’s just not in me. Fine, I’m a right idiot, my plan backfired miserably, but all I could think about was you and how you were suffering! I was out of my mind with terror for you! I thought I could sneak in and smuggle you out, I really did, but my spells weren’t as effective as I had hoped. So I got caught and had to go with Plan B,” he shrugged.


“Well, we’re both stuck here, now,” she snapped at him, her face turning in profile as she surveyed their posh jail with a hopeless shake of her head. Her eyelashes glinted wetly in the glow from the lamps but Harry thought she was beautiful even in her troubled state. With a forgiving glance, she emitted a huff of resignation before scanning Harry’s body, his skin going hot and tingly again while trying not to think about his own nakedness. He didn’t need to look down to know that his willie was out in plain sight, he could feel it stiffen in her gaze. “What am I going to do with you, Harry?” she sighed. “My noble knight, you are. My bloody Gryffindor savior,” she scolded with a rueful smile. Her sigh made him feel funny again and he wanted to touch her, wanted to run his fingers through that fiery hair and then slide them down her breasts, but now was not the time for it. Yet he couldn’t understand why he wasn’t feeling more panicked about their predicament. They were fucked and his mind struggled to wrap around that fact; all while he was staring at her lips in fascination as he noted how red they were, the reddest he’d ever seen.


“Where’s here, anyway?” Harry asked again, ignoring her teasing and his preoccupied knob. “Whose bedroom is this? I’m assuming we’re still at the Malfoys, then? How long have I been unconscious? All I remember is…well, I know I wasn’t in very good shape.” That was a gross understatement, but he didn’t want to go into any more detail than he had to, not knowing what she might have seen once he was brought up here. Harry had fought as hard as he could once the Death Eaters started to play, but the beatings had gone on interminably and he had faded in and out of consciousness through each new torture. By the time that the assembled group had bent him over the bench and started taking turns having him, his bleeding body restrained into immobility while he howled his rage, Harry had been convinced that Ginny was most assuredly dead, or worse. Seeing her like this after what he’d been through sent his imagination off to some terrible places.


“We’re in the Dark Lord’s private chambers,” she told him flatly. “He only comes here at night, if he happens to be in the manor. He was disappearing for a few days at a time before you showed up, like he was off on some hunt, but now I’m not sure what he’s up to.” Her hand flitted to his face again, as if she couldn’t stop herself from touching him. “There was…a change in his attitude when you were brought to him that second time. It was, like, suddenly, it was very important that you not be damaged. He got really nervous when you were practically at death’s door, I could tell. He even called in…a specialist…to help you get better. I really thought I’d lost you, Harry. You were so battered and lit up with so many hexes. They had you down in the cellar, but…I…well, I suggested you’d do better up here. He seemed to agree and gave the order that you not be touched except by those he had appointed as your healers. There are a couple of house-elves still tending to you, but it’s been almost a week for you to come out of it fully. You came round a few times before passing out again. Do you remember?” She tapped at his breastbone before running her hands over his chest and then trailing fingers down to the winding path of hair above his pelvis.


Harry flinched at the caress, but his eyes never left Ginny’s face. “The bruises and cuts are mostly gone, thank Merlin, your skin is back to its loveliness. But there are still a few scars…here,” and her hand went to stroke down one side, his arm hanging stiffly over her gentle probing of a lumpish rope of skin, “and here,” her other arm reached around to the small of his back and brushed over a rough spot on his spine. His back arched and he let out a small grunt, his own nipples going hard as her breath ghosted over them, achingly aware that her breasts were within hands reach.


He had to get his mind back on the matter at hand, though, and he wondered just how much Ginny had seen, the idea of her witnessing his debasement completely horrifying. Yet, he hadn’t spotted her anywhere in the Malfoy’s ballroom, now a makeshift throne room and apparently, a torture arena, so he was puzzled by the extent of her knowledge.


“What did you mean, second time? When did he come back? I remember him trying to…well, I guess he was reading my mind, since I did a rubbish job of keeping him out. But it was weird. I kept seeing things that weren’t from my own memories. Then he was gone and I passed out, I guess. But I didn’t see you there. I kept asking for you…” Screamed for her, more like it, and if she had been around, she would have heard him, surely, but he was glad she hadn’t been there, now.


Ginny nodded eagerly, her face turning scared for a moment. “I know; it was bloody tearing me up. I couldn’t help you.” She pointed suddenly at the wall to his left. “I saw everything from here. I never know when he’s going to spell it for me, what he’s planning for me to see, but it’s like they’re in the next room and someone’s just slid the wall back. Usually it’s him performing Crucio on a prisoner or one of his henchmen after they’ve bollixed something up. I was so terrified when I saw you down there. I kept trying to break the chains on the bedposts, to rip them out of the wall, anything, but I was useless.” Ginny sounded anguished as she gripped his hand in hers, “I wondered if you were able to hear me screaming for you, Harry, I was certainly loud enough.” Harry hadn’t heard her at all, though, not with their shrieks of laughter and taunts drowning everything else out.


He turned to look over the wall, the gold and red stripes appearing as bars on a cell, but it was mostly like the other four in the rectangular room, except this one featured a painting of strange, colorful creatures and naked humans writhing around in lewd dances. He quickly turned away and focused on Ginny once more, goosebumps breaking out across his arms and back as she continued, her voice going breathy. “But he came back toward the end and looked you over again. I think he was doing Legilimens then, too, but you were unconscious at the time. That was when he got scared and started shouting for some healers to get their arses in there.”


Harry’s stomach dropped a foot. “So…you basically saw…everything?” he asked dully, although knowing the answer already. Ginny’s face blanched before she gulped visibly, but nodded her head slowly as her tears welled up again. Suddenly, Harry didn’t want to have her touching him at all, his face turning away from her in shame. He felt unclean, filthy, and he couldn’t stand the idea that she knew the how and why behind it. That feeling that he was about to be sick returned and he choked back his bile. He imagined his very presence was contaminating her, and so he dragged himself backwards as far as his chains would allow, curling up into the massive headboard as soon as his back hit the wood.


“Harry, don’t,” she cried piteously, her open arms suspended in the air, her body straining against her chains as he lay just out of her reach. “Please, we have to help each other. Don’t shut me out.”


Something about her pleading struck him deep. Harry had a sudden vision, brutal and vivid, of Ginny being surrounded by them, groping her, spreading her legs, grabbing at her hair. He had to know, even though his chest hurt to breathe, he had to have confirmation one way or the other. They had come to the elephant smashing its way through the room. When he looked at her, more wretched scenes in his head assaulted him, some from memory and some imagined, but he stared at her mouth and tried to make himself speak.


“Did they do it to you, too?”


He didn’t recognize his voice, it sounded so hollow and far away. Ginny gaped back at him for what seemed like minutes, but when she shook her head forcefully, he moaned aloud, his relief flooding through him as he folded himself around his knees. At least she had been spared that, he thanked to whichever deity was looking out for her, but there was still the fact that she had been kept in Voldemort’s bedroom all this time, undressed and obviously sexually prepared. The worst thing was that he could imagine what that would be like, having that snake-warped visage hovering over him while the monster took whatever pleasure it deemed fitting. Having endured the bastard raping his mind while obscenely fingering his lightning bolt scar, Harry wanted to vomit at the picture of Voldemort rutting grotesquely against Ginny in this giant, ridiculous bed with its downy purple covers and rotund pillows like some twisted scene out of a romance novel.


“Harry, sweetheart,” she whispered, beckoning him to come back to her by stroking his ankle lightly, the only part of his body she could make contact with. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. You have no idea. But I haven’t even gone through a fraction of what those animals did to you, believe me. I’ve only been with him, and it’s nothing like you would expect. He’s not at all violent like that.” Her voice moved softly over his skin like feathers raining down, calming the wildness he felt inside his center for a brief moment even as his mind railed against her words.


Harry pulled up his head to face her, his expression dumbfounded. “Not violent?” he repeated incredulously, feeling like he’d been slapped, albeit through ten layers of gauze. “Ginny, have you gone mad? This is Voldemort we’re talking about; he’s nothing but violent. Lest you forget, those animals were working on his orders. And he’s left death and destruction in his wake everywhere he’s gone. What else should I be expecting? Roses? Candlelit dinners?” he sneered sarcastically.


“No! No, of course not, that’s not what I meant. I’m just saying that he’s different than you would think when it comes to sex, is all. It could have been a lot worse, is what I’m getting at, but he hasn’t been trying to abuse me or—or demean me, or anything like that.” Her complexion had gone blotchy in her insistence, but Harry wasn’t buying any of it.


“So, what ARE you saying then, Gin? That he didn’t rape you? Or just that he’s the really nice, alright kind of rapist? You’re chained to a fucking bed while you’re fucking naked, what part of that isn’t demeaning?” he countered vehemently. Ginny’s anger flashed in her features for a second before settling back to one of patient understanding, but he wanted her to yell, wanted her to fight with him. Harry wanted to tear the bed apart and rip down the purplish iridescent curtains pulled back to each post, then smash everything within reach, and he wanted her to join in. He just couldn’t seem to work up the effort right now, as if there was something heavy squashing down his rage.


“He—he seems to prefer a more…agreeable situation. He could just come in and take what he wants, but he doesn’t do that. It’s like…well…if it’s pleasurable to both parties, then it’s more relaxing for him.” She stared longingly at his foot again, as if hoping she could coax him into crawling back to her side of the bed, but Harry stayed right where he was.


“And what about the first time he came to call on you? Was that ‘agreeable’? Tell me, how relaxed were you, Ginny?” He arched an eyebrow, his voice thick with derision, as he watched the beginning of a blush tinge her cheeks.


“I—was drugged,” she said tightly, glaring back at him. “I don’t remember a whole lot, but I do know…I didn’t fight him.” Ginny looked miserable admitting such a thing, but she tipped her chin up as she held his gaze. “It could have been much worse,” she repeated.


Harry felt rightfully shitty for talking to her so callously. She must have been terrified when she was first brought to this place and if Voldemort wasn’t torturing her every minute of the day than that was a good thing. Still, he was having a difficult time understanding what she was driving at, as his girlfriend seemed to be forgetting some very essential parts of the plot, especially the one about her being a victim. He didn’t know which to feel more distraught about with so many horrors coming at him, but the way she was talking about Voldemort almost as if he were a—a lover—was enough to make his skin crawl. Was she still being given potions to keep her compliant? He wanted to think so.


“Sorry,” he muttered, his voice husky. “I don’t mean to make you feel bad, Gin. I’m a bit freaked out, right now, so forgive me if I don’t know what the hell I’m saying.”


Ginny gave a dry laugh and then shook her head at him again. “Harry, I think the appropriate word for what you’re feeling would be traumatized. But…we can help each other get through this. I don’t want you getting stressed about what the Dark Lord may have been doing to me; it’s not where your head needs to be at.”


“Oh? Where should it be at, then?” he asked dourly while fiddling with one of the chains hanging from his wrist. It was starting to annoy him how she was referring to the mutant fuck the way his followers did.


“Harry, look at me.” She’d gone soft-spoken but there was something seductive in her tone that made him turn to her. She smiled sweetly and held out a hand invitingly. “Come here.”


As overwhelmed as he felt, he was compelled to go to her, but he made her wait several beats before slowly shifting his weight so he could drag himself on hands and knees to her spot in the middle of the bed. Once his chains went taut, she quickly curved her hands around the back of his head and pulled his face up to hers. Ginny’s mouth pressed against his wetly and Harry jerked away from her as if she’d just burned him. He wanted to kiss her, he did, wanted the comfort she could give him, but it felt wrong now. He’d failed her. He didn’t deserve her affections, he thought wretchedly. She’d been forced to lay with that twisted incarnation of Riddle and he would never forgive himself for putting her in that position. And….she saw what had happened. He didn’t want to think about any of that, yet he couldn’t get past it. The worst of it was how much he wanted to drink in the sight of her, even with her obscene decorations and his frazzled state. It was still Ginny before him, the girl that he was madly attracted to, and her nudity drew him to look at her in a way that was primal and full of need. The way she kept touching him wasn’t helping, either.


She must have been listening in on his thoughts, because she stroked his shoulders and down his back as if in answer. Harry shuddered at the sensations her touch elicited, but when she took hold of his head the next time she simply pressed her forehead to his. “Your head needs to be where you’re thinking about how we’re going to get out of here, right?”


They both had their eyes cast downward and so he stared at the clean shaven crotch in full view. He could see the plumped folds and lines of her cunt etched so sharply and it started to throb before his eyes in time with his heartbeat, as if his blood and breath were somehow activating her arousal. His vision was going wobbly again the more he stared, but he liked the dreamy feelings it produced even as his practical voice told him to snap out of it. Ginny was right, of course, he needed to start plotting a way out of this hell and stop getting distracted by her body. He needed to conserve his middling energy on getting them free, he couldn’t afford to be sidetracked by emotion. Ginny was counting on him to rescue her. Wasn’t she?


He pulled back from her and focused on her face, looking for signs to alleviate his creeping doubts. It was good to hear her talking about getting away from her captors instead of all this toff with ‘the Dark Lord this’ and ‘the Dark Lord that’, and her earnest expression seemed to support her desire. He needed to find out what useful information she had accumulated in her time here. If he’d really been out of it for a week, then that would mean she’d spent almost a month in captivity. Guilt consumed him at the dawning, but he also realized that together they might possibly figure out an escape.


“Who else comes to see you besides the house elves? And…and Voldemort.” he croaked again, wincing when he tried to clear his throat.


“No one, really,” she told him with a perplexed frown. “There are two of his lackeys that have been coming in to check on you every morning and right before supper, but they never pay any attention to me. The house elves come to bring food, and—um—you know, to clean us up.”


“What?” he asked thickly, sounding obtuse, but hesitant to visualize what ‘cleaning’ might entail. “What the fuck does that mean, Gin? Do they bathe us or something?”


Ginny flushed pink and she looked down at the bed demurely. “Um, you could say that. Among other things.” Harry felt little alarm bells go off inside him. He looked around the room again noticing more details this time. The wall across from the bed was dominated by a massive fireplace and he puzzled over the vaguely menacing objects sitting by the hearth. One was a small wooden box sitting on spindly legs, the flaps open to reveal several long, cylindrical shapes nestled in velvet. The other item stood straight up on a solid base, a sphere of magic surrounding it obscuring the design. He noticed a writing desk in one corner, too, and the sudden image of Voldemort sitting down to write florid letters struck him forcefully, the notion of it seeming hilarious in a surreal, absurd way. To all of my Death Eaters, how are you?, he might start, but how would he finish such a missive? Sincerely, Your Lord and Complete and Utter Shitstain, Voldie. Harry started to laugh at the premise, but felt his hysteria might engulf him, the laugh strangling into a cough. Fuck, his throat was killing him.


“Where’s the toilet? Is there another room attached to this one that they let you use?” he enquired once he could speak again. Ginny reached back behind her to a small table at the foot of the bed, he could now see; several vials and a few brushes strewn across it. She handed him the glass of water once more, and he took it without hesitation, making sure to finish its contents this time as it iced up the hollow ache in his throat. After draining it, he felt a calming ebb flood his center of gravity. He gave the empty glass back to her and waited expectantly for his answer, his eyes scraping over her features carefully when she appeared to avoid his direct gaze.


“There’s a pot that shows up when I have need for it, and then it promptly disappears. The elves put me in a bathtub on some days, on others they just…wash me by hand. Very thoroughly, I might add. The Dark Lord apparently has a quirk about hygiene,” she stated with the lift of a brow.


“Right, you really need to stop saying that,” he insisted, although it came out more halfhearted than the aggravation he was feeling. He sounded practically blasé to his ears, and the realization made him immediately suspicious. It was like there was some sort of barrier between his real emotion and what he was able to exhibit. “He’s not a fucking Lord, Ginny, and he’s certainly not your lord, so stop that shite before I get angry.” Harry didn’t sound terribly angry, though, just slightly bothered. He tried to look again over the vials and bottles on the table behind her, wondering what the hell they’d been giving him. Was there something in the drink Ginny had just offered? The thought disturbed him, but she was probably as mind-altered as he was, he reminded himself.


“It’s just out of habit, Harry, it doesn’t mean anything. He likes to be called that, what do you want me to do?” Harry only boggled at her attitude.


“I want you to call him something else, that’s what. Try Fuckface, or Snakey Git. They’re vastly better suited,” he growled, reaching to take hold of her wrist again and twisting the skin.


“Yeah? Well, good luck with that when he gets here,” she snapped, although she didn’t try to move away from him, nor pull her arm from his grasp. On the contrary, she drew closer, her breasts brushing against him, nipples still hard. There was a definite tang that reached his nose and he was reacting to her arousal before he could think, grabbing at her thigh and trying to get her near enough to climb up on his lap. And his suddenly very erect cock. When had that happened? Harry didn’t dwell on the answer much, though, as he leaned down to kiss her. She responded enthusiastically and he could hear the rumble in his throat again as his hands clasped her waist, his tongue quick to enter her mouth. It felt glorious and turned his prick to stone, waves sensually lapping at his skin. He tried to grab hold of her arse in his zeal to pull her body flush to his, but his chains wouldn’t allow his reach to extend that far. Now his growls were sounding feral and exasperated, part of his mind noting how surprising it was to hear him react this way while he persevered in bringing her on top of him, ignoring the pain in his arms and back as he fought against his binds.


“Harry…Harry,” Ginny moaned as soon as he broke the suction of their dissolved lips. Merlin, he wanted her so badly and his brain started to speed up in double time as the pictures of what he wanted to do to her swirled in his head, all while he struggled to come up with a solution that would get him inside of her. He needed to show her, right? He was still a man. Still the one who had made her come before.


“Fuck, Gin, I need—” but there was a sudden crack in the room and the two leaped apart. Harry whipped his head around to determine the whereabouts of the Apparated intruder, but it wasn’t until he looked down at his left that he saw them, standing below that wicked painting like demonic twins. They had to be two of the vilest creatures he’d ever laid eyes on, making Kreacher look like a cherub in comparison. These house elves had to be ancient, Harry imagined, their wrinkled skin looked like there was a hundred years of grime packed in the creases, and he wondered how long they had been in service to Voldemort. Then one of them spoke and goosebumps chilled his flesh. If Dementors could talk, this was probably what they would sound like.


“Lookey, Paimon, it’s awake,” it noted, its gravelly voice almost cheery. Its ears were standing up stiffly at attention, straggly wisps of hair tufting out of them, and when it suddenly gave a horrifying grin, Harry went cold, eyeing the sharp, pointy, yellowed teeth with dread. Surely, they were the deathliest grey ever to come into existence, he mused, little pot bellies protruding above what could only be described as a disheveled nappy. The one to the left of it had an exaggerated stare that would have almost reminded him of Luna if the thing hadn’t been so hideous. Even still, it was more androgynous than its partner, the longish hair sprouting from its head and trailing to the front of its shoulder suggesting a faint femininity as it held a tray of food in both hands. When it answered its mate, the gender became more confusing.


“So it is, Amon. The Dark Lord will be most happy with this news,” it said in a high-pitched, airy voice. The elf smiled as horridly as the other, spurring Harry to try and block Ginny with his body. The thought of these creatures tending to her was making him want to retch again, but he’d be damned if they were going to touch her now that he was here. The two started to walk towards the bed in an unnatural shuffle and Harry felt rooted to the spot. Even their gait was disturbing, appearing as if they were half floating, half dragging themselves across the floor. He searched his mind for something to say, some demand or refusal at the ready, but he was rendered speechless by their macabre freakishness. Ginny suddenly wrapped an arm around his midsection and he practically jumped a foot.


“Harry needs something to eat,” she informed them matter-of-factly while curving around his side. “He still has to get his strength back. You need to bring something heartier than broth and a piece of bread,” she said pointing at the tray in Paimon’s grasp. “Get him some meat or a stew. And bring that red wine you’re always giving me with dinner. He could use it.”


Harry twisted from the waist as he gawped behind him. Why was she commanding them as if she were in charge and not a prisoner? Their response was even creepier, and he goggled back at them when he snapped his head to the front again.


“Why, of course, Little Flame. Why don’t you get started on what I’ve brought for you and Amon will bring It something else.” Harry’s heartbeat thundered in his ears, racing only a moment ago because of his desire, but now as far from his arousal as he could get.


The creature continued its path to the foot of the bed, setting the tray on the table once it got there. Immediately, it picked up a phial from the tray and removed the stopper, handing it to Ginny wordlessly. She took hold of the tube and brought it to her lips before Harry could protest, but he shouted at her anyway when she’d knocked back the substance inside in one gulp, handing the glass back to the house elf as docilely as you please.


“Gin!! What the hell are you doing?! You don’t even know what they’re giving you!” he yelled in a panic. Ginny only glared at him a moment before shaking her head.


“It’s only vitamins, Harry. They’ve been giving me the same potion at every meal. It’s the standard, by now. I get another one when they get me ready for a visit. It’s some kind of calming draught, I gather, but nothing nefarious.” Harry could only gape back at her in complete consternation.


“Who the fuck are you?” he groaned, not understanding how she could be so accepting of everything. What had been happening to her before he’d arrived?


Her eyes narrowed at him with a flare in her nostrils but her voice was resigned. “It’s just much easier this way, Harry, believe me.” Harry was going to answer but he jolted again when something papery and grubby touched his arm. Amon had climbed on the bed and was standing right next to him. He leaned away from the devil as far as he could, but it came closer as it sniffed him experimentally, stroking the bicep of his arm before squeezing it. Harry wanted to pierce the air with a high-pitched scream, but he ordered himself to calm down and face the elf threateningly.


“It’s not very muscular, is it?” the thing declared to its mate in that awful rasp, disregarding Harry’s heated glare. “We thought it was supposed to be powerful, we heard.” The stench emanating from its mouth was unbearable and Harry tried to stuff up his nose from the foul breath. He turned away and stared wide-eyed at Ginny’s stoic face. She seemed completely unruffled by their proximity.


“The little one was very worried about it, so it must have some use,” Paimon reasoned sounding out of breath. The elf looked over Harry hungrily, only adding to the effect when it licked its thin, grey lips a second later. “We’ll find out soon enough how worthy it is. It is appealing to look at, isn’t it?”


“We think it is scrawny and ugly,” Amon replied, poking him in the ribs this time. Harry had had just about enough of them, and was relieved when Amon snapped its fingers and disappeared with another loud crack, most likely to get him food.


Once the thing was gone, Paimon scampered onto the bed; the creature quite agile for one as decrepit as it looked. It crawled over to Harry and sniffed him, too, starting at his knee and working a trail up to his thigh. This time Harry did shout, barking in surprise when it practically buried its face in his crotch, and he threw his body back against the bed, scrambling backwards before hitting the headboard. When it came straight for him and jumped onto his stomach Harry lost all of his breath for a moment. “Adstringo!”, he heard it shout with a nasty grimace, and then felt his arms suddenly pull sharply over his head towards the wall, his manacles coming together as the chains formed one strand and held him fast against the bed. The thing made to crawl up his body until its face hovered over his, a leer stretching wider from its excitement the closer it got.


“Get the bloody hell off of me!!” Harry shouted hysterically, his repulsion in full force.


“Paimon, leave him alone!” he heard Ginny yell. It looked back at her for a second, but then returned its attention to Harry, eyes still roving over him greedily before it tentatively put a finger to his scar, the sharpened nail on the end of it scraping against his forehead. Harry kicked his legs and jerked his body upwards trying to throw the creature off, but it only gripped hold of his upper arms and held on, gnashing its terrible teeth.


“It will behave this minute, or we will have to secure it completely,” Paimon screeched, the spastic motions from Harry’s body making its high voice quake.


“Harry, calm down!” Ginny soothed, her outstretched hand stroking the back of his lower right leg. The sensation of having both of them touching him at the same time was confusing; one was pleasurable while the other was repellant, and his body warred with how to react. He turned away from that ghastly face, his gaze falling on the painting of carnal frivolity with the disgusting monsters, and had to grit his teeth to get a hold of himself, breathing heavily through his nose for a spell while he concentrated on Ginny’s strokes and the sound of her voice.


“That’s better, Harry, just breathe slowly. It just needs to examine you for a bit and then we can get some food into you,” she pressed, but Harry didn’t really feel up to eating, at all. His nausea had returned and he gulped air into his lungs trying to will the bile back down. He closed his eyes and stilled, nonetheless, letting the vile house elf prod him and poke him, looking into his ears, pulling at the hair in his armpits until he flinched, pressing the side of its head to his chest as it listened to his heart pounding wildly. It thumped its fingers against various spots on his belly and hips, but when its fingers moved closer to his groin, he tensed up and held his breath, a whooshing sound filling his ears. The second it pried his legs apart and touched his scrotum, however, his eyes shot open and he groaned aloud.


“Gin! Fucking Merlin, what does it want?!” he begged, shameful tears pricking his eyes.


“Harry, you were hurt very badly. Paimon just wants to make sure you’re healed. It’ll be over in a minute.” He didn’t want to think about why the creature was checking down there, but tried to get back to fixating on Ginny’s voice again, letting it lull his distress. He couldn’t stop himself from fidgeting when the fingers probed places that caused his body to burn with humiliation. The fact that Ginny was watching the examination only disturbed him further.


“It will need to be prepared after it eats,” the creature half-whispered. “The Dark Lord will not like all of this growth. It is quite out of control.” Harry didn’t know what the hell it was talking about, but he didn’t like the sound of it. Once it finally stepped away from him, he snapped his legs closed and rolled to his side, using the strength in his arms to pull himself over mountains of pillows and towards the headboard. He heard the crack of Amon’s return and straightened up enough to a semi-sitting position. When he glanced at Ginny, she was calmly sipping her broth with a spoon as she watched Amon setting Harry’s plate at the small end table. The creature snatched up the brush that had been lying there and went to stand behind her to start on her hair. The smell of spiced meat and potatoes wafted over to him but the leap in his stomach told him that his constitution was still not quite ready for solids.


“I think I’m going to be sick,” he mumbled sullenly, laying his head against the wood. Up this close, he could see strange figures carved into the trim, bodies winding around each other like links, and he sat up straighter, pulling away from the headboard so as not to touch it.


“It will eat its supper on its own or with assistance; that is its choice. We have fed it before. It is of no consequence to us.” Amon’s blank expression told Harry that it would most assuredly have no problems force feeding him. He looked to Ginny for help.


“Gin, maybe I should just start out with some broth, instead. Why don’t you have my dinner and I’ll finish yours. I really don’t think my stomach can handle very much right now.”


She eyed him critically for a moment but then nodded curtly. “All right, I suppose that’ll be okay. You can eat something more substantial tomorrow once you’re stronger.” She addressed Amon and Paimon with a small smile tingeing her lips. “Can Harry be released from the wall so he can sit next to me? Please? You can shackle him to me and I’ll take care of him.”


Harry watched the three of them warily at the foot of the bed, trying to figure out what Ginny’s game was. Paimon got up close to her and brushed its fingers through her hair affectionately, but her smile only grew. “The Little Flame is happy now, we can tell. We will tell the Dark Lord that It has awakened and be back for your lavations soon. We will need some extra time with it.” Paimon glanced back at him and snapped its fingers. Harry’s arms fell heavily as the chains were released, but before he could jump off the bed a hand was gripping his ankle and dragging him downward. He allowed the creature to pull him to the end without a struggle, his wrists still clipped together, but as soon as he was close enough to them they were securing the chains at his ankles to the bottom bedposts and his wrists to one of Ginny’s cuffs as they sat him up. Instantly, Amon was standing next to him again, this time holding a flask up to Harry’s lips. He looked to Ginny with a questioning expression.


“Trust me, Harry, it’ll help,” she offered ominously. His mind briefly flashed on what had happened to him in the ballroom but he still didn’t want to take the potion. “They’ll just put you in a body bind if you don’t drink it on your own,” she advised. Harry looked at her, then at the flask, then at the creepy duo waiting for him to follow orders. They’d already been dosing him up with who knew how many potions, he reasoned, before reaching to take the bottle in both hands. It was foul, but they always were, and he swallowed it down obediently.


Ginny seemed happy that he had complied and beamed at him, stroking his arm while she used her free hand to pick up the bowl and spoon him some broth. As soon as she held the spoon to his mouth, he slurped in the hot consommé, his eyes locked to her face. She ignored her own plate and continued to feed him, so he continued to let her, and when he dribbled some down his chin, she was quick to reach for the napkin and dab it at his skin. The house elves watched them quietly for a few more minutes before Disapparating together. Ginny seemed determined for him to empty the bowl, apparently, and kept up her spoon feeding. He watched her while she fed him; she seemed content enough that he was consuming something, or maybe it was something else. The hot liquid was making him sweat now, but his queasiness had subsided and he did feel strengthened. He felt less achy as well and flexed his shoulders without any pain. He grabbed hold of her wrist again as she was dragging the spoon away for another scooping.


“Ginny, that’ll do, I’m feeling better. You haven’t touched your own plate; it’s going to get cold,” he prodded.


Her face turned worried as she set down the bowl. “It never gets cold, but I don’t care about eating right now, anyway. I just want you to be back to normal. You have to promise me you’ll do as they say until you’re strong enough, Harry.” Ginny caressed his cheek softly and he felt suddenly sleepy, as if he’d just gorged on a huge meal.


“Gi-i-i-n-nnn,” he slurred out of nowhere, “I can’t promisssssthat.” Then her face was right in front of him and she was kissing his mouth, it seemed much easier to let her have at him, he decided with some fuzziness. When her hands were back to rubbing all over his torso he moaned lightly, leaning backwards to give her total access to his body. This seemed to spark something in his girlfriend, for she was suddenly more assertive and eager, pushing him back to the bed while tugging his bound wrists above his head again, her shackled arm pressing them into the mattress. He could still discern her movements, even as his body felt like it was fusing to the duvet, and when she straddled him to grind her cunt against his prick Harry wished he was more coherent. It felt wonderful, but he didn’t have the wherewithal to do much about it.


“Gods, Harry, I missed you so much,” she was whining into his neck, the pulse there throbbing so intensely it dominated his whole throat. “I keep thinking about the time you had your fingers inside me. Do you remember how good that felt? I wanted to touch you so badly,” she whispered, her hand quick to stray down to his hardened length. “Did you like the way I got you off?” She gripped his prick tightly and he gasped, trying to move his leg and hearing the clatter of the chains against the back board. “I was nervous, but I wanted to give you the best that I could. I would have put it in my mouth if you had asked.”


Harry’s next moan was deep and long, vibrating throughout his chest and filling the room. He wanted her to fuck him, wanted her to climb on his cock and envelop him. It didn’t matter that he was aware he’d been drugged, he still wanted to revel in the luxuriousness of her skin on his, feel her sped up breaths flowing over him, the lushness of her mouth pressing to his lips while her tongue explored. Her flowery scent reminded him of jasmine and it filled his nose until he thought he might be carried away by her.


Ginny sat up and pulled his fists to her chest. She opened one of his hands and put his palm to her fettered breast, her nether bits sliding back and forth wetly over his extremely ready knob. “Did you like it Harry? Do you want to do more?” she asked breathily, eyes hooded in ecstasy as she coaxed his pliant fingers to tweak her hardened nipple. He felt the metal of the ring pierced through the wrinkled skin there and tugged the hoop forward reflexively. Ginny’s back arched with a cry, her breast full in his grip, and it was like tiny, mini explosions setting off all down his body.


“Fuuck yes, Gin. Gin. Ginny,” he groaned repeatedly wanting nothing more than to do whatever she asked. She lifted her body off of him for a moment and he almost keened in disappointment.


“We won’t have that much time before they’re back, luv,” she whispered urgently. “No time for foreplay, you’ll have to do it now.” He felt her leg shift so that it was raised on one side of him, her grip firmly around his prick again as she directed it to her cunt. Harry slowly realized he was about to penetrate her and the information caused him to startle violently, his foot knocking the side of the table by the bed and sending their dinnerware to the floor with a crash.


“Oh, shit!” she half-shouted in a hush. Within seconds, two sharp cracks rent the air and the revolting twins appeared right on the bed with them. Paimon was giggling in the most unearthly sound imaginable, signifying nothing like amusement or glee, but something portending only dire forecasts. It pointed at the two teens frozen on the bed in their lust and its subsequent grin was the worst one yet.


“We told Amon that the Little Flame wouldn’t be able to wait, didn’t we? She’s all ready to burn It up! The little one is such a dirty thing. Dirty!” It’s accelerated hyena-laugh continued in fits and starts amidst snorts and Harry was sure that his prick had deflated faster than a Descendo charm. “We must scrub her extra hard in her bath today. The Dark Lord is most eager to see them, so we must be quick about it.” Its titters died down as it walked towards them, Amon right behind it, while Ginny climbed off of him and backed up to the bedpost. Harry tried to move, but he was too sluggish and his thoughts too scattered, so when he heard the clinking of chains being dropped and then felt his body sliding backwards across the bed, he simply gave in to it. His ankles were still locked to the bottom corners, however, and when his arms were split and chained to the upper knobs of the headboard, he was pulled taut and spread eagled across the mattress. The strain in his limbs was enough to wake him up and feebly protest his treatment.


“Hang on! What the fu—”


“It will need a lot of work done, so it is best it remains quiet. Amon will take care of it, while we draw the baths. The little one needs to be flushed clean first. It has a lot of nasty, dirty to remove for the Dark Lord.” The creature snapped its fingers and Harry was levitated off the bed for a moment. It sounded as if a thick layer was being laid down underneath him, the material making zippy noises, and when he was floated back down his back and bum were immediately cold from its smooth surface. It felt like rubber or plastic, he wasn’t sure which. Then Amon was walking on his stomach and he choked from the breath being squeezed from his diaphragm. When it sat on his abdomen and started to smear something hot onto his chest, Harry was squirming again, feeling like maggots were crawling under his flesh. Amon was using a wand to scratch back and forth on what had to be warm oil soaked into his skin and trickling down his sides. The wand movements stopped just above his ribcage and when he tilted his head up to see what had been done, he noticed the small scrub of dark hairs that had sprung up on his chest only last year were now gone. As he tried to determine in his addled brain why that would be necessary, the creature was already working on doing the same thing to his armpits.


“Bloody hell,” Harry muttered as the strange sensations continued with the wand wipes. The hollowed planes under his arms felt exceedingly bare once Amon was done and he started to feel a bit panicked at what was coming next. He let his haziness take over, though, once he felt the oil being poured onto his belly as the elf scooched his bottom lower down Harry, practically sitting on his knob. “Ginny!” he called out; worried about what was being done to her while he lay here being depilated. He felt the trollish beast plucking at some stray hairs around his belly button and flinched at each pull.


“Yes, Harry, I’m alright,” he heard her answer, the splashing of water following her voice. There was a small moan and then a sudden deluge of liquid pouring down, the sound of it reminding him of someone taking a piss. He blushed at the thought, but then the oil was being rubbed into his pubic hair and Harry started to choke again.


“You’re fucking kidding me!” he groaned loudly. But his distress didn’t deter Amon in the slightest, whose wand was rapidly dismantling his masculinity by the second. Just what kind of a sick freak was Voldemort, anyway? He groaned fitfully again and tried to kick out his leg, but it was held fast. By the time it was done, Harry thought he’d gone through the worst, but he was very wrong. The animal muttered something over his head and before he knew it, his body had flipped so that he was face down on the rubber lining. He hadn’t a chance to really recover before he was being propped up on his knees as they were spread apart. As soon as Amon separated his arse cheeks and dripped oil in between them, Harry’s keening was furious.


“Just pretend you’re somewhere else,” Ginny’s voice guided him. “There’s not a lot you can do about it.”


“But it’s humiliating!” he bellowed as he felt the wand poke around his anus and across the insides of his thighs, leaving them hairless and smooth.


“Tell me about it,” Ginny added dryly, a slight quaver suggesting she was being rubbed vigorously. When he looked down at the mat he was kneeling on, it was covered in pools of the oil. Amon was drizzling more of the substance on his legs, stretching them out and making him hover over the bed again while it worked. Harry settled down and tried to think of flying over the Quidditch pitch, then of flying over Malfoy Manor and dropping a few bombs on it, Ginny snug at his back. Then he thought about Ginny under his front while he huffed over her from his exertions, thrusting away wildly inside of her, even as he imagined how that would actually feel. His cock twitched at the daydream, though, and the last thing he wanted right now was an erection, particularly when Amon went back to his arse and started to poke some kind of tip to his holiest of holies.


“For fuck sake, what now!?” he whined.


“It needs to be flushed clean, says the Dark Lord. No muckiness allowed,” came Amon’s throaty answer. Harry couldn’t imagine this getting any more mortifying, but when he had to submit to water filling his arse and then told to hold it in his rectum for several minutes, he thought he would die of the embarrassment. Was this what Ginny had to put up with every day? It might not be a beating, but it was certainly its own kind of torture. Then his shackles were fitted together, wrists and ankles locked in pairs, and he was removed from the bed, only to be carried over to a large chair fitted with a chamber pot that had suddenly appeared. “Oh, my God,” he groaned as the debasement continued, sharp pains filling his gut. He could only think of Ginny in the same room watching him go through this (she’s seen worse, though, hasn’t she?) and he closed his eyes tightly as his bowels were emptied. Eventually, he was dumped into a ceramic tub appearing next to the bed filled with almost scalding hot water while the house elf was scrubbing him clean with what felt like wiry steel wool. His skin felt raw with the abrading, but he practically welcomed it at this point. He wished he had the drugs in his system lulling him into that trance from earlier, when Ginny had been doing such amazing things to him, and frowned at the unfairness of it.


“Ginny?” he moaned softly this time. He could smell the spicy aroma from his first waking moments filling up the room and wondered what it was. “Yes, Harry,” came her dreamy reply. He opened one eye to peer at her location. When he saw she was laying face down at the end of the bed while Paimon straddled her back, massaging some kind of lotion into her freckled skin, he sat up in the water to watch her. “How are you feeling?” he asked hesitantly.


“Relaxed,” she sighed, her hands flat under the side of her cheek. She sounded very sexy to Harry, but he was still confounded by her attitude. “How can you be relaxed at a time like this,” he questioned sincerely.


“Practice,” she uttered monotonously without even looking up. He supposed that was fair, but it felt a bit like a kick in the gut. He didn’t want her to be here, either, he had done his best. Then he was being made to stand in the tub as the water was magicked away and he was toweled down. Harry contemplated what would happen if he suddenly brought his fists down on Amon’s head and knocked him out. Would he be able to grab its wand quick enough to Stun Paimon before it had time to react? He thought about how fast they hopped onto the bed and unto him, and how slow his responses were with the potions working through him, so decided not to take the chance. The creature was sitting on top of Ginny, after all. Both house elves were awfully strong, too, he noted as he was hoisted onto the bed again by Amon. He went to crawl towards Ginny, but heard the snap of fingers and then the familiar pull of his arms to the head of the bed, tumbling him onto his back. As the air hit his dried skin, he felt bizarrely new being devoid of hair, like he’d just slid out of the birth canal. Harry wasn’t too crazy about looking like a first year again. He didn’t even want to glance down at his crotch, sure that he must look ridiculous without a single dark hair protecting his package. Amon left him alone for a while as he sat at the other end of the bed doing something to Ginny with Paimon. When he felt feet padding over the mattress to his side, he looked up. His jaw dropped.


Ginny was propped up on the end of the bed, the back board raised higher so that she was leaning against it, her arms spread out to either side of her and restrained to the same bedposts as his ankles were. Her legs were curled under her, though, in a lotus pose, and there were pillows behind her back elevating her. Her hair was fluffier and redder, soft curls framing her face with small daisies interspersed throughout her copper tresses, and her collar had been changed to a bright emerald green, the silver chains now gold. Her eyes were done up with some color, greenish tints in the creases of her lids, and her lips had been rouged up to such a scarlet shade that they were begging to be snogged. There were gold circles painted around her breasts, starting from her nipples like a bullseye. Harry had always thought that Ginny was a beautiful girl, but he had never seen her look as incredibly gorgeous as she did now, he couldn’t turn away from her. His cock pulsed again and he purposely held in his groan; Gods, he wanted her so much.


“The Little Flame is all done up, so now is It’s turn. We don’t have time to dawdle, come along, it needs to cooperate.” Paimon was already grabbing at his hair and combing it back with fingers, making tsk’ing sounds as it decided what to do with the unruly locks. Amon had gone off to the fireplace and was sorting over the items in the open box, causing Harry to get nervous. They weren’t going to make him look like Ginny, were they? Once again, Gin seemed to sense his thoughts and spoke sagely.


“He likes a bit of the flash which is why I’m tarted up like this. I suspect you’ll get some treatment, too, but I don’t think you have to worry about make-up, or anything. You’ll probably get pierced, though.”


“Pierced? Wh-where?” he asked anxiously, his eyes darting to Amon making his way back to the bed.


Ginny gave him a wicked half-smile, but then pulled in her lips as if suddenly catching herself. “I would say like mine, Harry. Don’t worry, though, it really wasn’t too painful. Nothing that you can’t handle.” Her eyes looked over his body again and he cringed inside.


“I look like a proper git, don’t I? I feel baby smooth, but it’s not exactly pleasant,” he confessed.


“I told you. The Dark Lord is not a big fan of hair on the body or anything that collects germs. It was a bit difficult dealing with the enemas and the douching every day, but he’s not always around, so I had a bit of a break from the routine.” It bothered Harry how she was so lackadaisical about the indignities she had suffered. He was about to ask her more on Voldemort’s absences when Paimon was suddenly shifting his body so that he was lying flatter. His knees instinctively rose in the movement, his feet adjusting wider, but then he was reminded of Ginny at the other end. She would have a very clear-eyed view of his arsehole like this and that really wouldn’t do. He tried to close his knees together and lower his legs, but they were being spread open again by Amon and Paimon on either side of him.


“What’s going on?” he cried in alarm. Paimon had dropped two heavy weights to his chest and stomach and he raised his head to get a good look at them. One was a long, slick, torpedo-like cylinder with a roundish base on the end of it, while the other was squatter and more triangular shaped. “What the fuck are those?” he shrieked, but he had a sneaking suspicion he knew exactly what they were and where they were going. One of the elves slapped his buttocks hard.


“It needs to be quiet!” a gravelly timbre spoke, identifying his slapper. He felt a cold gooey substance drizzled over his exposed hole and shivered. He was not going to like this one bit.


“Harry, don’t tense up; that only makes it hurt. Just relax and focus on your breathing. It’ll feel kind of full at first, but then you’ll settle into it. After a while, you don’t even notice it’s there much.” Harry’s mind staggered at the thought that his girlfriend had been fitted with some kind of—well, it was a dildo, wasn’t it? He’d heard the phrase enough to figure out its purpose—and he hadn’t even noticed.


“Are you wearing one right now?” he voiced to the ceiling as he attempted not to pay any attention to the pressing object against his anus. It was quiet for a few beats, but then he heard a faint, “Yes.” He hadn’t felt anything protruding from her when she’d been rubbing her snatch all over him, so that must have meant that it was up her bum, too. The idea of it was powerfully erotic to Harry, even though he wanted to find it disgusting and hateful. He wished she were doing it for him.


He thrust his hips upward suddenly when a particular forceful push was employed, shouting a few swear words indignantly. “What is the reason for this?” he groaned, but having a clue as to the answer. It eased some of his nerves pretending to have regular conversation through the ordeal, though.


“Well, it just keeps you ready for penetration, Harry. Say, if someone doesn’t want to wait around for you to get comfortable with the idea, you know? At least it’s more…” but she suddenly went shy.


“What? More what?” he pressed while the first object was removed and the fatter one was being slickened and shoved and twisted inside of him. “Never mind,” she said quietly but Harry needed to know. “Just tell me, Gin! I won’t—I’m trying to stay calm here. Just keep talking to me, please.”


“It’s more pleasurable that way, Harry,” she admitted, sounding sheepish. He didn’t want to think about the implications in such a statement, but if he didn’t then he would have to think about how the object in his arse was feeling so foreign and clunky, even if its entry had gone rather smoothly. When he felt the cold from chain links being dragged across the creases of his thighs he knew what was coming next and breathed in and out heavily in anticipation. The chains were clipped to the base outside of his arse and then run up over his groin to his torso until they reached his nipples. He dreaded the jewelry, but it was hardly the worst that he’d been through today. Once they started on that, Harry relished the sharp sting of the gold piercings, wanting a bit of pain to get his mind clearer.


After they’d added his new accoutrements, Paimon put some kind of gel in his hair and played with it for an obscene amount of time. He sighed over at Ginny, still looking lovely and patient, while he endured the final touches. He pulled his torso straighter to feel the links at his chest tighten. It was an odd sensation, but he resigned himself to it for the time being. “How is it feeling?” she asked out of the blue, but he knew she wasn’t referring to the piercings.


“Weird. Like I want to…well, forget that, it’s gross, but I’m trying to pretend it’s not there.” Amon was fitting a collar around his neck now and he chafed at the restraint for a moment, aiming to pull his head away from them both.


“Harry,” he heard her beckon, and when he wrangled his head away from Amon to get a look at her, Ginny’s legs were spread wide open for him, knees up and feet apart. He could see where the chains had traveled down to attach to the circle of black at her own arse, right below her delightfully pink petals. Harry was transfixed by the sight, the need to taste her very strong all of a sudden, and he didn’t even react when the collar was locked at the nape of his neck. He had heard about oral sex before, of course, but had never really thought about doing that to a girl until Ginny’s scent on his fingers had made him dizzy with the idea. Burying his face in her sex right now seemed like the greatest thing in the world to do at the moment, in light of everything that they’d had to withstand. Just then, his glasses were plucked off his face and the lovely picture in front of him went blurry.


“Oi!” he complained, “I need those!”


“It looks ugly with them on,” Amon declared.


“Yeah? Well, fuck off, troll. You’re not exactly mint, yourself.” He heard Ginny chuckle at the other end and felt slightly better. If he had to endure this madness, he was glad to have her with him, although that felt very selfish to admit. But her experience had helped him get somewhat in control of his state of mind, even with the addition of narcotics. Again, he amazed at how she had kept it together dealing with this on her own. He’d be raving by now if he hadn’t had her calming presence reassuring him. Ginny was stronger than he sometimes gave her credit for.


Paimon finally finished messing with his hair, which felt like it had been sculpted to his head, and then moved to step over his stomach again while it did something to his eyes. Harry blinked erratically as he tried to pull his head away from its meddling, but it took hold of his ear and made him stay put. He tried to hold in his breath while the thing exhaled on his face, demanding he look up as it dragged something across his lower eyelid. At least he was spared that god-awful mug in focus while it was so close to his.


The last thing they did utterly confused Harry. Using the same gold paint they had spread on Ginny’s breasts, they took turns painting bolts of lightning to his biceps and a larger version across his chest. When they had the two of them presented like mannequins on display, the duo popped out of the room, Paimon’s returning snickers still hanging around a few seconds after they’d left. Harry stared down at the artwork feeling the final bit of his dignity stripped away. “What am I supposed to be, bloody Shazaam?” he quipped.


“Who?” Ginny asked with some amusement.


“It’s a superhero character from a comic book Dudley used to read,” he explained, but she only looked back at him curiously. “You know, like Superman or, uh, Batman, or one of those blokes.”


“Superman? Like Nietzsche?” she queried.


“Who?” he echoed, then bolted off the bed when the dream team suddenly Apparated right next to him. “Fuckin’ ‘ell!!” he yelled, his anger finally coming back to him. “Don’t bloody do that!” It felt good to be outraged again and he seized it tightly like a wand in his fist, although it looked to be short lived when another phial was held aloft in front of his face. “No,” he refused, shaking his head violently. “Absolutely no way. Ginny, don’t take it. Fuck him. None of this drugging people and doing whatever he wants with them. I’ll break his fucking face if tries to touch you.”


“Harry, what the devil has gotten into you?” Ginny appeared baffled by his surfacing temper.


“What’s gotten into me? Can I get a list of the ingredients? How about the bloody dildo rammed up my arse, for starters,” he heaved, the phial still hovering before him. He wasn’t going to let Voldemort take him without a fight, he resolved, he didn’t care if it put him in another coma. He started glancing around the room looking for any kind of weapon he could reach before the git arrived.


“It’s an anal plug, Harry,” Ginny stated calmly. “The dildo was a bit too big for you.” He turned bright red at the information, curious how Ginny knew all this sex terminology, but then let his seething overtake him. He was about ready to start shouting the room down when a hand slapped against his forehead and clunked him back into the headboard. The glass tube was held under his nose, the stopper removed.


“It makes too much racket,” Amon grumbled, tipping the vial so that what looked like powder shimmied out and flew up Harry’s nostrils before he even knew what was happening. He immediately coughed up a storm, feeling a burning in his throat as a coating slid down the back of it, explosive sneezes coming a few seconds later. By the time he’d settled down it was too late, whatever the substance was, it had already traveled to his brain and into his bloodstream enough so that he sat up like a shot, his restraints tightening. He felt completely alert, as alert as he’d ever been in his life. His eyesight was rapidly improving, blobby shapes defining into objects and faces, and he could smell everything in the room all at once: Ginny’s lotion and shampoo, the lingering of her arousal, the smoke from the dampened fireplace, the putrid odor of the house elves, and something vaguely sinister emanating from the sheets and curtains.


“Whatthefuckissss that?” he hissed in awe. His thoughts were speeding up so fast now he could hardly contain them, but one thing was coming through loud and clear and that was the intense throbbing at his chest and in his arse. Paimon moved to take one of the chains slack against his belly and pulled hard; Harry’s groan resounded through the room for several moments.


“Harry? Oh shit, not that stuff,” Ginny whined, sounding panicked. Harry shook his head a few times as if trying to swat Wrackspurts away, but the sound of blood filling his ears was back and he marveled at the red poppies unfurling in front of his eyes. He heard sounds of her distress and looked up in time to see Paimon holding another phial under her nose and the same thing happening to her. She flailed her head from side to side when she began coughing then started to slam her feet to the bed. Harry found it sexy to see her so revved up. He had always loved her enthusiasm for adventure and the way she was so physical with everything, particularly when she was physical with him. But now she was moaning deliriously as the two elves stretched her legs outward and to either side of him, the chains at the cuffs around her ankles whipping up to the posts where his arms were hanging. Her legs were laid right over his and the sudden sensation of flesh rubbing over his own was the most intoxicating feeling he’d ever had. As he stared, his jaw slack, at her exposed cunt mere inches from his cock now standing at attention, there was a sudden brush of fingers at his hip. It felt amazing, like feathery wings flapping against him, and Harry groaned deeply again, his bum arching upward off the bed. He felt a wand tapping at his dick and he thrust up once more, wanting the contact, but in another moment, some kind of pressure was snaking around his bollocks. There was a snugness enveloping his sac that settled up to the base of his cock and it further heightened the surge of blood coursing through it, making him harder than he’d ever experienced.


“Oh God, oh fuck,” he moaned, trying to stretch his body towards Ginny’s, needing to press his balls against her wet slit. It was so fucking close, the fragrance of her arousal flooding his head, if he could just gain a little more ground. They were like the lacing of a corset, but just overlapping enough that the diamond crux of space between their thighs contained its own harmonious energy, calling their bits to join together. For her part, Ginny sounded just as determined to rub herself against him, the muscles in her arms bulging as she strained to drag her body downward. He wanted to lick those arms, wanted to grind his crotch against that bicep before sliding it over to her luscious breasts, rubbing his cock between those two mounds made just for him. Gods, the chains draped across her sternum, then down her soft belly; they were begging to be tugged between his teeth until she screamed in pleasure.


Ginny gave a guttural shriek, like a jungle cat in heat, and then called for him in desperate peals. “Harry! Merlin, Harry, I want you, want to suck your cock, want you in me. Always, I always wanted you. I need you to fuck me, Harry, please!” She was almost crying now, sounding quite out of sorts, but he could commiserate, his lust spiked so sharply he thought he might burst into flames if he didn’t have her soon. The throbbing in his cock seemed to have a life of its own, a sound manifesting until it was all he could hear pounding in his ears. Even when his head fell back to the pillows, he could see flashes of Ginny’s cunt in time to the pulses, the colors around him lurid and bright.


He no longer sensed the presence of the house elves anywhere near and wondered fleetingly when they’d left, his eyes halfheartedly scanning the room in a daze. He started grunting with each of Ginny’s cries, flurries of thoughts buzzing in his head while he attempted to pick one to fixate on, something other than the relentless need to have his knob lodged up inside of her. What was happening to them, he wondered disparately, how could they even fight this? Harry wasn’t so sure his body even wanted to as Ginny’s thigh slid against his again and it was like sparkles falling over his cock, or something. His eyes rolled in his head while he struggled to breathe, his heart thundering so hard it felt like his chest might spring forth a herd of wild horses. There was suddenly a whoosh somewhere in the room, followed by a series of moans from Ginny, and when Harry craned his head up again he could see flames leaping high in the fireplace. Who lit it up? Was it automatic? He realized his arse was off the bed, the heels of his feet pressing deep into the mattress as they burned from the manacles, but he was still furiously rutting up at the air hoping Ginny might find a way to get her cunt closer. He keened again in his frustration.


“Ginny! I can’t stand it! If I don’t get to fuck you soon I’m going to go mad!” he cried.


A door slammed closed. “Ah, young love. Such poetry, Harry. She might think you mad already,” a slithery voice remarked.


Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..his mind chanted. The fucking bastard; he didn’t need to look to the side to know who had just entered the room. But even as the sliver of Harry that seemed to be sitting on the sidelines watching over this whole mess raged against Voldemort’s advantage, the rest of him was desperately in need for someone…or something, to touch him, touch his cock, anything, just help him release this sexual delirium. When he’d finally managed to face the direction of the door, Voldemort was already by the bed, making Harry startle. The man himself stood there with an amused smirk, dressed in too much finery for a rapist, the bright reds and gold of his brocaded robe swimming before Harry. The pattern swirled into a mass of moving lines until they looked like a nest of snakes ready to swallow him whole. It flared out instead of cinching at the waist, and it featured a high-backed collar with jewels on the tips. But the face above it was still the hairless, red-eyed, lidless abortion that was the bane of Harry’s nightmares.


“You’re mad, you fuck; fucking bastard, not fair, don’t tou—” but then the monster reached out and ran a single finger straight up the underside of his stiff-as-a-board cock and Harry screamed, jutting his hips up again as he bounced Ginny higher. His wrists felt wet inside the metal cuffs, but he wasn’t sure whether it was from sweat or blood.


“My, you two are exceedingly ready, by the sounds of it. I suspected you’d be as eager as your girlfriend, Harry; what a passionate pair you make. But then, I heard you were quite a hit with my Death Eaters. You should hear the way they’re raving about your arse.” Harry made low, growling noises in his throat, even as he tried to angle his erection closer to Voldemort’s hand still hovering by his hip. “It remains to be seen whether I let you stay here or send you back for more of their company,” the devil needled, “but that depends on you, Harry. Will you please me as much as the lovely Ginevra? She’s set a high standard for you to meet.”


A hand moved. Harry tensed waiting for the stroking to begin, but Voldemort slipped past his aching cock and delved right into Ginny’s now dripping gash, instead, the resulting moans from her as wanton as Harry’s a moment ago. He stared fixated as two of those long fingers were encased inside of her, a third one manipulating its way in as her body reached for it.


“Now, this one is a real find. Such licentiousness for a novice; I’d say she was born to it. She’s kept me rather busy, Harry. I must commend you on choosing her as the one to receive your affections. I’ve most enjoyed getting to know her in the flesh.” He turned to lock eyes with Harry as he grinned wickedly (is he capable of any other?) and slid his left hand over Harry’s bare belly causing another involuntary cant of his hips. “Strangely, it was exceptionally easy. Ginevra and I seem to have a connection. Not quite as dear as the one I share with you, Harry, but powerful, nonetheless. What a fascinating child.” And to emphasize the point, he made a plunging motion with his hand that had Ginny screaming and twisting again.


“Leave her alone, you freak. She’s not yours,” he blurted out, but Voldemort only chuckled at his daring.


“Oh, Harry, and to think you once bedeviled my every waking moment.” He took hold of one chain lying on Harry’s torso and tugged viciously; Harry’s body jerked upwards so hard that he floated off the bed, his keening singing to the rafters. “You’re both mine, now, boy,” Voldemort hissed malevolently as he leaned in close. Then he stood up sharply and clapped his hands twice. “Ginvera! In position. Time for inspection,” he commanded.


Ginny was suddenly loose. She was scrambling to get up on her knees and her eyes were well glazed over, Harry could see. But once she was able to get on all fours, her hands were pressed to the bed on either side of Harry’s thighs with her mouth suspended low over the head of his reddened, swollen cock as if she were about to gobble it down. He moaned just from feeling her breaths waft over it, and when the length of her hair drooped close enough for the tips to brush his hip bone, he was ready to go insane. Yet he could barely get out a plea before her head was dragged backward in a lurch, the movement tightening the chains at her neck and pulling up her breasts. The sounds she was making only turned his prick inconceivably harder.


“Now, now, Ginevra, not just yet,” Voldemort reprimanded her. “We had a deal, remember? You can have Harry when I deem it so. Until then, let’s make sure you’re presentable.” The fiend put the fingers that had previously been up Ginny’s twat to his lips, licking them experimentally as if hoping to identify the various properties of the issue coated there. To add to the effect, he made a face much like a curious scientist would coming across the unexpected in their research. “Did you try to have him already? I detect something different. Those maladroits are supposed to keep you clean,” he huffed, but then looked over Ginny with what could only be described as affection. “Really, Ginevra, you’re such a brazen young woman. What must our chivalrous, noble Harry think of you?”


Ginny said nothing, though, except to whine when Voldemort fiddled with something behind her. He glanced at Harry with that leer again. “I’d like to thank you, Harry, for keeping her pure for me, at least in body. The sex is always more potent when I get a virgin. Alas, that won’t be the case with you, will it? I should think you quite broken in by now.”


“Aaaaarghh!!!!” Harry roared at the top of his lungs, his ferocity breaking through the fog of whatever infernal chemical was wreaking havoc on his senses. He wished the fucker would shut his fucking mouth already. He tried to kick his legs, but they were bound well and good. Being baited so brutally in the state he was in was beyond what he could stomach right now; his endurance was fast arriving at its end. The reply that came was a deep, throaty laugh which only maddened him further, but as soon as the bastard wrapped a hand snugly around Harry’s knob he was moaning like a whore again. It was as if twenty hands were reaching out to stroke him at once, the heightened sensations sending out signals to every single one of his nerves, and his brain fought to take hold of that slippery anger once more before he was totally lost in this.


“Come up here, Ginevra. Hands behind the head. We want to let Harry get a good look at you.” He straightened her up as she stood on her knees before him, her hands dutifully clasped together behind her neck. Then Voldemort’s palm curved around her sex, he grabbed hold of an upper arm, and lifted her off the bed, carrying her a foot up Harry’s body until he dropped her down so that she was kneeling on the sides of Harry’s torso, just below his chest. “Can you see everything, Harry? I want you to have the best view. Ah, but we have to attend to your poor eyesight first, don’t we?”


When the monster put his unnaturally long fingers to Harry’s temples, he squirmed, even as waves of euphoria doused his head, but as soon as the hissing of Latin began, the clarity of his vision intensified, until every line, every color, every shade in front of his eyes was pristine. He blinked a few times, but the clearness remained. With the drug running through his system, however, it wasn’t just a clear-eyed view of Ginny he saw, but one that was hyper-real; she seemed to vibrate in front of him. The copper of her hair was so fiery it was as if flames were literally licking the top of her head. And her skin; her skin was a hue that he couldn’t even name, just wanted to absorb, wanted to roll around inside that color and let it protect him. Unfortunately, it meant he could see Voldemort much clearer, as well. He stared at the face as it grinned at the cleverness in enabling his victim to see every bit of his rape unfiltered. Harry could see remnants of what once was a very handsome Tom Riddle in the cheekbones and set of his jaw, but the garishness of those red eyes staring back and the unsettling detail of those slits standing in for a human nose reminded Harry that Riddle was long gone, the metamorphosis complete. And this animal was now spreading Ginny’s thighs further apart as she grunted; his freakish digits back to tending to her rude bits as he separated thin membranes of her folds.


Harry’s corrected vision couldn’t look away from them. Ginny tilted her head back to gaze up at the ceiling but her moans didn’t subside in the least. When Voldemort slapped at her quim, Harry started, yet she only cried out for more. Fingers were back to plunging her insides, as if she were some well to be pumped, but when the fingers suddenly withdrew and moved to hover over his lips, Harry didn’t think once but reacted instinctively, opening his mouth to let his tongue reach up and retrieve the dew glistening there like a sacrament. Gods, she tasted divine, even, he wanted more of her. Voldemort seemed to understand this, for he put his fingers back inside of her to coax forth more nectar for Harry to lick off. The exchange continued for several more minutes until Harry got downright greedy, sucking on the demon’s fingers to get every drop, the moans from him and Ginny a chorus of pleasure.


“My, my, children; you certainly create a tantalizing picture. No wonder Ginevra was so persistent in having you brought up here. She’s very persuasive, your girlfriend; Harry, I delighted in her efforts. Such a creative mind, as well.” His gaze slid up and down Harry briefly. “Although, I can see why she’s drawn to you, boy,” he added lasciviously. “You do have some allure. Grown up quite fit since I last got a good look at you in the cemetery, eh?” His hand reached out to stroke back Harry’s thick locks. “With those eyes and that fuck-me hair, you’re almost pretty.” Before Harry had a chance to try and voice a riposte, however, Voldemort’s attention was back on demanding Ginny move into a new position. He had her turn around, on hands and knees again, with her bum towards Harry’s face.


Ginny’s hair tickled his balls and he jerked with a groan, wishing it were tongue, but still gluing his eyes to her backside as he had done her front. Her cunt looked so wet, the slit stretched into a dark hole like a summons, while above it the circular bit of rubber flush against her arsehole pulsed in his fluctuating sight. Voldemort put those cursed fingers to her again, but this time stretching her open for Harry to see the gaping maw ready to swallow him whole.


“Look at her, Harry, look at how her body responds to such stimuli. She’s a highly sexed little harlot, lucky for us. I’ve seen what goes on in that filthy mind of hers, I know what she craves. How would you like to visit such a place, boy? In her mind, while in her cunt? Either spot is a luxury, I can promise.”


Harry pulled up the last of his reserves to fight those nasty, disparaging words against Ginny; he couldn’t stand the way the monster denigrated her. “Shut the fuck….shut it…Oh, god,” he moaned feebly. Voldemort had pushed her head to Harry’s bollocks and she was currently bathing them with her spit. Harry’s eyelids fluttered as the feel of the object in his rectum made its presence known more insistently, the phallus pulsing in time with his prick as she sucked and licked those sacs like they were precious jewels.


“Yes, much better than fighting, isn’t it? Why not just let go, Harry? You’ll appreciate the outcome, believe me. I think I prefer you like this; nice and compliant without shooting off at the mouth every five seconds. Seeing you rage ineffectually has its entertainment value, most certainly, but it does give one a headache after a while. No, I think I should like to see this Harry that Ginevra is so keen to copulate with. She finds you quite intense, and rather dashing, but she likes your brashness; your fire, the most. I should like to test your resilience, Harry.”


No sooner had he said this then Harry felt his arms suddenly go slack, dropping to the bed. Ignoring the pain screaming along his nerves, tight as piano wire, he quickly made to sit up, his mouth already moving to engulf Ginny’s bits in his path. But Voldemort was pushing her away from him, tugging at her collar to guide her like a dog a few inches forward. Harry hands immediately went to grab for her, but just as quickly his arms were jerked backwards when his wrists slammed to the back of his own collar as if the metal bracelets had been caught in a powerful, magnetic pull. He whined at the indignity, his fingers scraping at air spasmodically.


“We’ll take this slow, Harry, since it is a first time for you and Ginevra. We have to take foreplay into consideration, no need to jump into things willy-nilly. You have to remember, women like a bit of seduction. Now, let’s get rid of Throbbing Gristle and replace it with another one till we’re ready for her. Steely Dan, perhaps, or Avalon? We need to move you around, though, so no messing about.”


Harry had no idea what the bloody hell Voldemort was talking about, but he followed the prompts he was given if only to find out if this was going to get him nearer to entering Ginny’s twat. His legs had been freed with a tap and when he scurried to get up on his knees, he was directed to get on all fours like Ginny, but kneeling behind her, his face now right at her bum. As he gaped at those pried petals in his view, his mouth veritably watered at the idea of pushing his tongue into her. But then he noticed the bed squeaking as a weight pressed down behind him and he turned to see Voldemort finally position himself into their line of bodies like another train car pulling up to be hitched. Hands reached out and twisted Harry’s head back to facing forward and a few beats later, he could hear fabric rustling and a heavy thump on the bed. Harry gulped tightly but pushed his mind to think about Ginny’s snatch mere centimeters in front of him. Then those wispy, long fingers were stroking the side of his face and pushing him closer to his objective.


“I want you to remove the phallus from her arse, Harry. Then I’ll have another one for you to introduce, although Ginevra’s fairly familiar with the set.” Harry’s brows furrowed together as he tried to glean Voldemort’s meaning, his wrists tugging reflexively at his throat to remind the bastard of his limitations.


“Oh, no, no, no, no; Harry, we won’t be using hands. Think about it a bit, I’m sure the answer will come to you.”


Harry’s face flushed, it didn’t take him any time to figure it out. Instantly, he was leaning forward precariously, the muscles in his thighs flexing tightly to hold all of his body weight, while his mouth opened wide enough to fit around the base of the dildo. As soon as his lips folded over the edge, he groaned harshly in his throat, his excitement peaking to be doing such lewd things to her but loving the contact. Ginny’s answering moan was long, rising up on the end as she pushed her rump into his face. He was breathing heavily through his nose now, but used his teeth to tighten his hold as he started to draw backward, seeing the black cylinder revealed slowly as he moved. It seemed to go on for a bit, and his eyes widened in shock when he’d pulled a hefty six or so inches of it out already and still it was not removed. By the time the big, black mass fell from her rear to hang from his mouth, his drool was pouring down the base of it and Ginny’s hole was staring back at him like a spot on the sun. He blinked as if his eyes had been burned, but when the haziness faded her arse and cunt were still on display waiting to be filled completely. He wanted to oblige her very much.


Then Voldemort shook him out of his reverie when he snatched the dildo from his teeth and put it in a metal bucket he’d produced from somewhere. He set the filled container to the side and then held out his hand towards the fireplace. “Accio Avalon!” he summoned, and the box that sat on the hearth quivered a bit, an object rising suddenly from its velvet casing and then speeding towards them like a missile. Voldemort caught it ably with one hand while Harry gaped, but when he held it out for inspection Harry could see it was another dildo, although this one appeared to be a thick tube of glass. It was a solid glass, however, and he marveled at the clear, slick material that Voldemort gripped like a dagger, noticing a swirling ribbon of blue ridges all the way down to the base. The tip was bulbous and shaped like the helmet of his cock, but there were two more balloons in the glass underneath it, making it appear more like artwork than a sex toy to Harry. Voldemort pointed it towards him, tapping his bottom lip with it. Harry poked his tongue out involuntarily to lick at the spot, the drugs making him twitchy, but before he could seal his lips, the bulbous head of the thing was pushing its way in between them.


“Now, Harry, surely you want to make the object nice and warm and wet for your girlfriend before you penetrate her with it? It’s the decent thing to do,” the bastard smirked as he insistently pressed it against Harry’s teeth. While the tiny part of his brain that was still coherent balked at the idea of performing fellatio on a dildo in order to prepare it for insertion into Ginny’s gaping cunt, he allowed it entry all the same. He tongued the thing intuitively while it filled his mouth, the glass feeling strange, and he tried not to choke when Voldemort pressed a bit too hard, rearing his head back to accommodate it. Having the thickness inside of his mouth, his lips spread wide around it, made him feel dirty and weird, but in a delicious way, and his nipples seemed to intensify in their hardness while his prick seeped its sticky fluid. He did want Ginny to be comfortable, after all, he reasoned, as his saliva coated the thing while Voldemort started thrusting it against the back of his throat. He grunted in protest, but then it was being slipped out and flipped around cavalierly. The snakey git was holding the back of it to Harry’s lips now and smiling devilishly.


“I’d suggest you get a firm grip on it so it doesn’t wobble too much when you push it inside of her. Getting it past those first few inches is the hardest part, you know. After that, smooth flying, Harry,” he assured with a manic giggle. That was disturbing in itself and Harry cringed inside to be reminded of what madness he was dealing with. And Ginny. But her aroma still swam around him in evocation and he felt powerless to refuse it. He could see that Voldemort’s shoulder was bare, so he avoided turning his head any further in case he accidentally caught a glimpse of that freak’s naked body. Instead, he opened his mouth wide and waited for the dildo’s entry.


Voldemort slid it along Harry’s tongue, it felt wider at this end, and he tried to get as much in as he could so that he’d have more control of it once he pressed it against Ginny’s gash. He concentrated on breathing through his nose again, his chest tingling and his own arsehole still pulsing where its guest lodged firmly. Without having his hands available to hold on to anything, it was quite difficult to kneel right up to her and still maintain his stance. His eyesight zeroed in on his target, wanting to get it right the first time and therefore not cause her any discomfort with his clumsy jabbing. He tried to recollect, in his feverish haze, what it had been like to grope for Ginny’s sex in the Forbidden Forest, how his upside down palm had stuck fast to her skin and then slid down until he was in the right place, his finger singling out the spot almost immediately before gliding in. That had felt so incredible, especially after she had moaned so deliriously into his mouth while they snogged. Whatever they were doing here, Harry wanted to keep making her moan; it was the only thing he could hold on to with some semblance of sanity. As long as she felt good, wasn’t being hurt, than he could handle whatever happened to him. He crept forward a bit so he could get as close to her as possible without falling into her and then tipped his head down until he could line up the tip of the dildo to her practically bleating cunt. His teeth hurt from holding it so tightly, but he didn’t want it to slip awkwardly from his grasp, and when he felt a little give from her skin he pressed forward a bit more, seeing the head breach the pinkness that filled his view. When he suddenly felt hands at his belly holding him up, a solid chest pressing against his back, he choked a bit in alarm, but tried to throw it off almost as quickly as it had come so he could continue his slow progression into Ginny. He’d freak out once he was done.


“Here, Harry, I forgot the best part,” the monster breathed into his ear, a wand coming into his peripheral vision which then tapped the glass joining him and Ginny together. Instantly, the thing started to vibrate in his mouth and the body before him squirmed and squealed. “Ginevera, settle down,” Voldemort spoke up harshly. “We don’t want to ruin Harry’s concentration, do we?”


Harry’s teeth and throat vibrated along with it, feeling so odd but overwhelming him just as much. He screamed in his throat along with Ginny and pushed a bit harder than he meant to, the thing slipping into her quite a ways.


“That’s it, Harry, but you want to keep her aroused, don’t just slam it in there. Here, move like you’re fucking her. You want to fuck the girl, right? Pretend this is your cock and you want to make her come with it, to come so hard she screams for you and only you.” He took hold of Harry’s hair and started to pull it back and forth, Harry’s head moving with the seesawing motion, the saliva now running down his chin in copious rivers to match the gushing volume pouring from her twat. He couldn’t stop keening in his throat, sure that his dick had petrified it was so hard. Ginny was screaming something unintelligible and that only spurred him to thrust harder, his teeth feeling like nails about to unscrew out of his skull. But he couldn’t stop, he felt like he was becoming a part of her and the thought lulled him into a trance, wanting to put more of his body inside Ginny and wondering when he would get the opportunity. When Voldemort put a firm hand to the back of Harry’s head and pressed hard until Harry was right up against her gash, his lips scraping over glossy petals, he gulped hard around the dildo and tried to kiss her that way, regardless of the impediment, reaching his whole body towards her and feeling her convulse on the lynchpin connecting them. But just as swiftly, his head was dragged away while the dildo remained, his teeth clenching painfully as he let go of it.


Voldemort slapped Ginny’s arse hard, leaving a red mark, and Harry whined at the sight. The monster was ready for something else, apparently.


“Ginevra! It’s Harry’s turn, now. Let’s get him ready, shall we?” He pushed her hip as if to prod her in the right direction. “You start where your talents lay. I’m sure Harry will appreciate that.”


Harry watched dully, still in his daze and his mouth throbbing, while she turned to face him and then promptly dropped her head to his knob. That woke him up very rapidly and he shouted at the first touch of her tongue sliding along the shaft.


“O-o-oh, fuuuuck, FUCK, Gin; holy fuck. Yes, yes, please, don’t stop.” He was begging now as her entire gob encased him into warm wetness. It felt absolutely amazing, his mind soaring in clouds watching them whizz past. Her hands kept touching his bollocks and stroking them while her tongue did wonderful things to him. If he had known what this was going to be like, he would have fooled around with her sooner, he mused absentmindedly. But then the chest at his back was rubbing against him, hands stroking up his belly and pulling him backwards to lie partially on top of the foul prat.


“That’s a good girl, Ginevra. What did I tell you, Harry? She’s a natural. You just need to relax and enjoy this. Now, let’s get you prepared.” Harry felt one hand reach down behind him then take hold of the plug in his arse. It wasn’t pulled out completely, however, but pulled back and forth much as he had done to Ginny, and the drag pulled his chains taut so that his nipples were tugged to increased pleasure. Harry didn’t want to admit it, but with Ginny sucking his cock the way she was doing and his whole body on fire, Voldemort’s teasing only added to the sensations, not the reverse like he had hoped. Even with the overstimulation, he wasn’t quite ready for Voldemort to bugger him senseless. It seemed inevitable, though, as the bastard pushed him forward again and unclipped, then pulled the ghastly thing free, leaving him feeling reamed out, open and vulnerable. He pressed Harry to move forward on his knees, holding on to Harry’s waist as he bent him and Ginny laying flat to the ground to pay more attention to Harry’s balls. At least before, Harry could fixate all of his thoughts to Ginny, but with the two of them focusing on him, he started feeling fuzzy again, not knowing how to put a stop to the responses in his body.


“Ginevra, why don’t you turn up this way so you can get under him? Make sure you keep up the flow of sensual strokes. He reacts very strongly to your touch.”


Harry hated being discussed as if he wasn’t there and it maddened him that Voldemort spoke the truth, but what was he to do? Of course he would react to Ginny under the influence of an aphrodisiac, how was this fair? But when he felt the dual sensation of a cockhead at his expanded hole while a mouth sucked the length of him into her throat, Harry had a shift in his center, a schism that ran through him. He had an unexpected thought, one that filled his head like oozing pus, and that thought told him that he hated Ginny right then. He hated that she was an accomplice to this, that she was doing these things to him so that Voldemort could fuck him a little easier. His mind reverted to his time in the cellar, how MacNair and Dolohov had relished tearing him up, ripping his arse until he bled. But he’d been healed, hadn’t he? All nice and proper, so that the cock of the walk could have him cleanly and compliantly, he fumed, his stomach wanting to heave in revolt. Ginny swallowed around his prick and he moaned automatically, feeling like a machine that produced sounds at each push of a button. When the sick fuck speared him on his devilish rod and Ginny took hold of one of his testicles in her mouth, sucking hard while her other hand never left his prick as she stroked him furiously, Harry opened his mouth for a long, snakey moan. His fury was tied tightly to his concupiscence as he let the tide wash over him. There was nothing he could do about this.


Ginny now had a good rhythm underneath him as she bobbed up and down, his knob hitting her throat every time. He stared at her mons while her legs fell to the sides, she was rutting against nothing as if already imagining him inside of her, or maybe it was just the dildo hard at work. The pressure in his arse continued, though, and Harry gasped at how far Voldemort was filling him. By the time the devil had made its way in to the hilt, the feel of another man’s balls slapping his arse as the last thrust made its way home, Harry amazed that so much stiff flesh had fit inside of him. Voldemort’s cock felt pressed up against bone, it was so tight, and with the first, slightest thrust showers of starbursts popped in front of Harry’s eyes. He heard a scream, but he wasn’t sure if it was him or Ginny, at this point, for she was making all kinds of sex sounds around his knob, the vibrato making his vision blur.


“Yeeeeeeeesssssssssss,” he heard the thing hiss. “Harry, Harry, my child, we’re of one mind. You’re mine as sure as Ginevra is. I will make the three of us complete. You will come around to us, it will be done.”


Harry felt arms curl around to the front of his shoulders, holding his weight as he was bent farther down, the thrusting going deeper, but still maintaining a slow, hypnotic pace. “Giiiiiiiinevraaaa,” a voice sang in his ear, “it’s time for you gift.”


Ginny quickly moved from her spot under Harry and shifted around again, so that her head was at the other end, back to facing him. Harry was practically on top of her, his cock still pulsing and stiff, so that when she spread her legs and put her ankles up to rest on Harry’s shoulders, he didn’t know what to feel anymore. A thousand emotions were fighting to take hold of him, but one resolutely came through to inform him that he wanted her still, wanted to be inside of that heat. It was all he had for himself. Harry saw a wand out of the corner of his eye again and this time it was tapped to his collar, the wrists dropping from their steadfast link, but the chains at Ginny’s ankles quickly entwining around him.


“Hold on to her shins, Harry, like so,” Voldemort instructed like some perversion of a Hogwarts professor, “you’ll want to hold on tight.” Then the madman was sliding the glass out of her intently, dropping it in the bucket before gripping Harry’s prick to line him up to her soaked fanny. “Your wish is about to come true, boy. Such a shame I had her first,” he twisted before nudging Harry into the girl.


Harry watched the glans of his dick disappear inside of her as a shockwave hit him. It felt…felt…incredible, fucked-up, hateful, fantastic, agonizing…like he was slipping into a velvety haven that squeezed and shifted and moved around him like nothing he’d ever experienced. Hearing her moan underneath him prompted him to look at her face and his chest tightened at what he saw there. Ginny’s face was twisted up the way he felt, the very picture of his turmoil. Tears coursed down her cheeks even as her head whipped around in a frenzy, her expression changing with every back and forth. When she caught sight of him looking at her, she reached for him, her face turning beatific for a second before crumpling the next as a sob escaped her. Harry felt frozen pinned between them, not knowing how he should proceed, but then the fiend thrust into Harry so hard that it pushed him all the way into Ginny, her eyes bulging as she choked in her throat. The skin of his scrotum was pinched against her, he was so far deep, and when hands pulled from his waist, there was a momentary reprieve before they were both being penetrated to the hilt again. Having Voldemort pressing down at his back, he felt unable to shift his weight off of Ginny for even a second, her legs straining as Harry pushed them down in an awkward position. But even as he worried about causing her pain, his knob enjoyed the angle it gave him. The sensations continued to build so much that Harry was starting to feel burning in his bollocks, not wondering anymore why he hadn’t come yet, because of course Voldemort had contained his sperm, somehow, that snugness working as a magical cock ring to prevent him from climaxing before it was allowed. He knew this without knowing, but wishing he could come anyway so that this would be over. They were nowhere near done, however, and Voldemort leaned over Harry’s shoulder to emphasize this point with a gloating snicker.


“I should think you two are like peas in a pod, so snug together. Perhaps I should make your bond more secure?” and with a wave of his hand the links connecting Ginny’s collar to her tits snapped off at one end and snaked upwards to Harry’s chest. The chains were then attached to his own nipple rings so that the two of them were tethered together in the most vulnerable point possible. The harder Voldemort thrust, the more Harry feared the links would rip the hoops right off of them, but then the devil was winding his hips in a way that he was hitting something deep inside of Harry, bringing back the explosions before his eyes. Ginny seemed to feel it too, she was gawping with her mouth opening and closing like she was struggling for air, which only panicked Harry further. As soon as she let out a shriek with the next hard pummel, he moaned in relief, ignoring how his bum was throbbing in the increased friction. Voldemort was making his own greedy noises, panting as if he was in pain or something, but his pace speeding up until Harry felt his guts roiling around like loose change, something slamming to the front of his pelvis. He tried to look down at where he and Ginny were joined but it was becoming a blur, ridiculously so, surely this was not normal? His entire bottom half felt like it was about to ignite. Ginny’s shrieks started to turn into screams and howls and soon he was adding to them with his own distress. He couldn’t even wank this fast, the feel of his cock plunging into Ginny like a torch while his breathing tried to keep up, his heart in staccato beats that reminded him of Dudley punching at that small, hanging bag in the basement.


Just as quickly as the pace had been set, Voldemort suddenly stilled, and Harry was wheezing and whining with Ginny in the aftermath. He spit up to the side trying to get his heaving under control, but then Voldemort pulled Harry close into his body, arms wrapping tightly around him, and a palm reached up to caress Harry’s scar. He screamed in agony, his head falling backward to land on Voldemort’s shoulder. Everything went blank first before pictures began running through his brain like a sped up film reel.


“Harry, Harry, let go,” the voice hissed in his ear again, but Harry was watching streams: images of him as a child sitting alone in his bed in the cupboard fingering a filthy teddy bear, cleaning the kitchen while Petunia rabbited on about how awful he was, Hagrid battering down the door at that cabin in the loch, his first meeting with Dumbledore, Ginny’s ten year old-self running after the Express as it left Kings Cross station, and on it went. His body felt wrapped in ice, and soon the memories turned dark; he was talking to the Headmaster about Horcruxes again, the man’s hand had been shriveled and burnt, and then Dumbledore was talking about Nagini. But just as a faint part of Harry acknowledged that he was giving up dire secrets, the pictures started to change to the unfamiliar. He saw a woman underneath him, laughing in a throaty rumble as her head was bopped into the headboard behind her; he could smell her pungency fill his nose, then a little girl and boy backing away from him with abject terror stamped across their faces, dissolving into group of naked bodies joined in various positions on a massive bed, and then finally fading into the image of a young, nude Bellatrix lying back on a sea of scarlet covers to offer herself. Before Harry could blink, he was seeing himself on top of Bella, knowing that he was inside her, fucking her while she writhed like a whore, her mouth open in ecstasy. He realized his body was moving again, slower this time, so that the pressure in his balls was now tightening again more pleasurably. He opened his own mouth to moan wantonly as he let himself be pushed between the two, the squishing sounds of his cock in Ginny’s cunt reaching his ears even as he pushed backward to let Voldemort’s prick fill him up. Harry no longer felt corporeal but simply a vessel which was meant to be filled. His body moved in rhythm with Ginny and that snake, that demon, but he listened only to his heart, the pulsing growing in volume until it was a booming that blew apart the room. A cry came from behind him, the final thrust so intense that he realized he was practically pressed to Ginny’s chest, her body contorted to accommodate them both.


He was being pulled off of Ginny, being pulled backwards again so that he was lying against that hard body behind him. Then her head was being tugged towards him by her hair, her face pushed to lick at his bits, unbelievably enough. When he heard Voldemort mutter a Finite Incantatem while squeezing his bollocks, the resulting geyser an instant later hit him with such force that he couldn’t see anything but that pulsing turned into a spiral of red before his eyes, his blasts of cum splitting it apart like globules of blood floating around him in slow-motion.


Then Harry passed out.