Harry stepped in cautiously. He'd never been in the Hufflepuff dorms for any other reason than dipping his quill into Hannah's inkpot. Today, though, he had to be more than a horny teenager.
He had to be a good friend.
Behind the curtains of her four-poster bed, he could hear Susan's soft crying.
"Susie?"
A gasp. A gulp.
He drew the curtains back slowly, giving her time to gather herself.
Susan looked at him, pajamas rumpled and hair in disarray, red-haired and red-eyed. She sniffled.
"Hey, you." Harry gave her his best attempt at a warm smile.
Tom's mind-merge had given him power, confidence, a lifetime's worth of knowledge.
It had not taught him to comfort a crying woman. Tom had a lot of experience with crying women, but they only cried because he was there, and Tom's solution involved a bright green light.
Harry would have to solve this one by himself.
Susan trembled.
"I'm offering free hugs today." He shrugged. "Thought you might be interested."
She wiped at her eyes, swallowing a lump in her throat. "I'm a mess, don't look at me."
"I can hug without looking. I'm a pro." He settled gently on the edge of her bed.
"C-can I ask you something?"
"Of course." Harry wiggled his eyebrows. "But in my defense, I didn't know it was illegal in Scotland."
Her hand reached out to grab his. Tightly.
"D-did you have anything to do with it?"
Harry flinched. But her eyes bore into his. He knew what she was asking, because despite Rita's article, there were still eyewitnesses insisting that Harry Potter had really attacked the Ministry, rumors swirling about him, roaches crawling out of the woodwork to attack his character.
He wanted to decry her question, to throw a tantrum on how could she attack his character, use their years of friendship as defense. But he knew the truth — he had thought about killing Amelia, if only to stop her from being taken by Voldemort, her life kept as a bargaining chip for decades.
Only Amelia had sacrificed herself, because she was smarter than him, one step ahead of him. He hadn't killed her, he reminded himself. He wasn't going to, even if she hadn't made it so he didn't have to.
He was going to defend her to the death. He could look into Susan's eyes and tell her the truth.
"No." He said simply, squeezing her hand. "But I understand why you asked."
Susan stared at him. Harry wondered when she'd stopped trusting him — probably when he started trying to get in her panties at any cost.
"I w-wish I could—"
He cut her off. "In fact, she told me something to tell you, just before she went through the Veil. I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I…needed time."
Her wet eyes became large, but he could see the doubt in them.
Harry took a deep breath. "She told me to tell you that, uh, if you weren't real, you wouldn't be able to cry."
She stared at him, open-mouthed. For a second, he thought Amelia had told him something nonsensical, to ensure Susan cast him aside.
But then Susan sobbed and launched herself into his arms. She wailed, shaking. Harry blinked, awkwardly rubbing her back.
"There, there." He muttered.
He could do this. This was nice.
Bellatrix had cried in delight when she was under Tom's Cruciatus, which probably didn't help the Dark Lord's unique method at comforting women.
Tom might have become semi-normal if he 'd ever had to encounter and comfort a crying woman who wasn't a psychopath.
Harry buried his face in Susan's hair, to hide his amusement at his own thought.
Susan drew back, wiping at her own face as she sniffled. To his relief, she was smiling. "Thought I was all out of tears." She patted at his wet shirt. "I might drown you."
"You're good — I once spent a lunch break with Moaning Myrtle."
He caught the look in her eyes. "Not like that!" Harry insisted.
She giggled wetly. "Can't put it past you." She sighed. "Auntie always loved Alice in Wonderland."
"Is that what she meant?"
Susan nodded. "Tweedledum and Tweedledee try to convince Alice that she's not real. Auntie said when she became upset or emotional in the Ministry, or during a speech, her colleagues or journalists would try to paint her as faking tears, that she couldn't possibly care as much as she did."
"So—"
"But Alice knew that because she was crying, she was real, because she wouldn't cry if she was just a dream character. And Auntie knew she only cried when it was something that really mattered." Susan took a wavering breath. "So whenever I was upset, she told me to cry it all out, that every tear was a reminder that I was real, that it mattered, that I was going to be okay, just like Alice."
Harry rubbed her shoulder. "I can't pretend I get it, but I'm glad that it helped. She really loves you."
"Loved me." She leaned her cheek against his hand. "I'm all alone now."
"Not completely."
She gave him a weak smile. "You just want to…do me."
"Oh, Susie." He wrapped her up in a tight embrace, feeling choked up himself. "I can't pretend that's not true. But, it's not completely." He stroked her back. "I was your friend before I was your suitor." He used her shoulders to tilt her back, so he could meet her eyes. "If I ever made you think that I wasn't your friend, first and foremost, then I'm sorry."
"Oh, Harry." She wiped at her nose.
"I know I came on too strong. I wanted you too much and I made you think I was creepy like Cormac."
She laughed into his chest. "I never thought you as bad as McLaggen."
"It's a low bar to clear."
"Maybe I thought that a little." She admitted. "I've been…a bit wary of you."
Harry smirked. "Wary like Malfoy is of Hippogriffs."
She groaned and buried her face in his shirt. "I just wanted to marry well. Marry someone Auntie would be proud of you, someone who wasn't…using me to get to her." Her voice was muffled, her face hidden, but he could see her ears turn red.
He kissed her forehead. "I want you. I always have. Always will." He said truthfully. Even without having a Minister of Magic for an aunt, he wanted her for her. Susan was bright, powerful, witty, kind. Beautiful, too.
In another world, in another timeline, he'd want to bring her home to meet his mother.
"Okay."
"Okay."
"E-even though the rumor mill says Fleur Delacour came to Hogwarts just to see you." Her fingers dug into his shirt.
Harry smiled into her hair. The Hogwarts girls hated Fleur. Last year, she'd come to the castle as a woman while they were still girls, and the girls had never forgotten how the boys had flocked to her, dozy sheep falling over themselves for a hint of her smile.
"Who's Fleur Delacour?" He joked.
He felt her roll her eyes.
"I want you." He repeated, tightening his gasp, breathing her in. "I won't push. You'll need time to mourn, to grieve. I'll be here as your friend. Whatever you need, I'll make it happen. Believe it or not, I know what's it like to be the only one left of a Noble House."
He traced her back. "I can have my people set up a funeral. Look over your estate. Talk to Gringotts to make sure the goblins don't start playing games. Remind your dependents to make their payments." His chin dropped to whisper into her ear. "But, when you're ready, if you want me, I'll be here."
"You will?"
Harry was silent for a long minute. The intimacy of the moment changed from new to comfortable, a warmth that became familiar. He stroked her hair, imagining a future where he could do this every day.
A future he couldn't let her Aunt destroy by changing the past.
"Remember how Alice in Wonderland ends?" Harry said, his voice raspy. He imagined he was back in the cupboard under the stairs, the book closed in his hands, but his mind very much alive. The spider that crawled over his arm no longer frightened him, because he could imagine the spider with a smile, a personality, a silly voice.
Most of the books he stole, he returned to Dudley's dusty bookcase, just in case their absence was noticed.
This one, he kept under his pillow.
Harry continued. "When Alice is ready, she shatters the dream. She grows up, and even though she becomes a woman, her loving heart never changes."
"I remember." Susan said weakly.
"Her sister thinks that when Alice has children of her own, Alice will tell her about all her crazy adventures, share her sorrows and joys."
"I like that."
"Me too." He let his chin rest on her head. "Wouldn't we have the best adventures to share? Basilisks and Umbridge, Dark Lords that we banished together, Sirius Black and dementors. A tale of two houses coming together to rebuild, and rebuilding Britain while we're at it."
"That sounds like a dream." She admitted, sniffling.
"It does." Harry bit his lip, feeling his heart tighten. The worst thing about having two minds was having two moral compasses, such that anything he said, he was never sure whether it was genuine or manipulative. Whose tongue flickered? "It really does."
###
Harry waited at the coffee shop, in the past. The cafe embedded into the Ministry atrium was a favorite of Ministry workers in the past and present too. It had never changed, because it didn't have time to — it had a steady stream of patrons from opening to close.
Espresso Patronum was the name, though everyone just called it Patro's.
He cradled his coffee, though this time he wasn't waiting for a glimpse of his mother.
Instead, Amelia Bones walked in, looking stressed. Her high heels clipped on the floor, the sort of beauty that made the whole coffee shop take a second glance, at her long legs, at her straining blouse.
To her credit, she only raised an eyebrow when she saw Harry.
"Poor Lily is going to get paranoia if you keep stalking her." She joked as she slid into the chair opposite him.
"It's you I'm waiting for, actually. Got you a coffee."
"I don't think you can change my mind, Harry." Amelia said firmly.
"I'm not trying to." Harry sipped his coffee. "I've changed my mind. Let's do it. Let's change the world."
She looked at him skeptically. "You've changed your tune." She gulped her coffee, staring around at the busy cafe. "Wish this coffee shop would change their tune."
Harry smirked. "They play endless Celestina Warbeck in the future too, you know."
"Didn't like it then, either." She grumbled.
"I've got a cauldron full of hot, strong love—" Harry sang, to the radio's backing tune.
"Please don't."
"—and it's bubbling for you!"
Amelia looked unamused. "My lunch break is short."
"Time is one thing we do have, Amelia."
"I have to work twice as hard to rise up the ranks twice as fast." She reminded him.
"Then let me shoulder half the burden. That world you spoke of? I want it." Harry lied. He didn't want to lie to her, but he had to stop her from making irreversible changes to the timeline, changes that could hurt or even remove the people he loved, could make Voldemort even stronger.
He reached out to take her hand, on the table. "Let me help."
"You're not going to try and change my mind." Amelia said suspiciously.
"No,"
"Even though I'm going to try and change the future."
"You won't fuck things up if I can tell you how your changes are working out." Harry told her. "This is what you wanted, right? A boyfriend stuck in two timelines, able to help you become the ultimate politician."
"A boyfriend, huh?" She sipped from her coffee again, her eyes evaluating.
"Unless you don't want me…" Harry withdrew his hand.
"It's not that." Amelia said hurriedly. "I…it's been a long time since I cared for…that side of human interaction."
Harry laughed. "Stop flirting, you. You seemed pretty interested in interaction, last we spoke."
Amelia stared at him flatly. "I'm an old woman in a young body, Harry. I'm running hotter than any cauldron Celestina sang about."
"Then what's the problem?"
"You are. Susan said she wasn't sure about you, that you liked to play games."
"You think I'm playing with you?"
"I think you're a teenager who knows how to play at being a man."
"Ouch."
"I'm not being mean, Harry. I want you—"
"Because I'm the sounding board from the future to help you change the world."
"Not just that. You are…highly desirable."
"You'll make me blush. But?"
"But I want a partner, an equal in life and in marriage. I never married because I never found the one."
"I don't know if I'm the one, Amelia."
"And you don't have to be. I have a lifetime of regrets, a rocking body and a second chance at life. But I want to make sure I'm not just another one, that you're not playing games with me."
"I can't be chaste from two decades away."
"And I wouldn't expect you to. I'm just asking that you stick with me, that you commit to this." She gestured to the world around them. "To changing this world, our world."
"How can I prove myself?"
"Be there. Be here, I mean. Tell me what I'm doing right, what I'm doing wrong. It'll take me a while to make any meaningful changes, while I rise up the ranks. I'm still low on the totem pole."
Harry smiled and nodded, even as he seethed inside. If only he'd accepted her advances the first time, maybe he could have seduced her to bed.
But Amelia was just like her niece — the Bones women had the most undroppable panties in the world, past and future.
How long would she string him along, using him as a mirror to reflect her timeline alterations.
"And then?" He asked.
"Integrate yourself. Introduce yourself as a pureblood from Europe, make your wealth. Become someone who I can marry. Let's become a power couple to change the world." Amelia toyed with her collarbone.
Harry stared at her, judging her. She was too smart. Maybe he could seduce her, take advantage of her lusts. He only had to bed her once to bond her.
But maybe she would keep him exactly where she needed him. At arm's length, trying to prove himself.
He couldn't walk away — she was too dangerous for that.
"You'll need to make this worth my while." Harry said simply. "I'm a teenager, after all, right?" He threw her words back at her.
"In good time." Amelia bit her lip, her fingers playing with the button of her blouse until it came undone, revealing the creamy flesh of the tops of her breasts, a hint of a green bra.
Celestina Warbeck's voice warbled over them. "Oh, come and stir her cauldron, and if you do it right, she'll boil you up some hot, strong love, to keep you warm tonight."
Amelia smirked at him. "Drink your coffee, Harry. Us Bones girls? We're worth the wait. And just imagine, if you play your cards right, I'll tell you what you need to say and do to get my Susan to drop her guard." She squeezed her chest together and leaned forward. "You can have me in the past and Susie in the future. Isn't that worth any trouble?"
Harry took his coffee and clinked it against hers. "To bubbling our cauldron."
"To making a world where Celestina is hopefully less popular." Amelia agreed, her eyes sparkling.
He'd play along for now. But as they chatted idly, a new Celestina song began to play, something more fitting.
"You charmed the heart right out of me, to my whole life you hold the key, you cast your spell and suddenly, I cannot forget you!" She sang.
Harry smiled inside his mind. That spell Celestina sang about — it wasn't just a metaphor. Harry knew the incantation.
"I've seen her grades, you know. Warbeck's." Amelia confided. "She couldn't cast a Disarming Charm, let alone a love spell. Her wandwork was terrible."
"I'm not surprised." Harry replied, his mind busy.
He knew what Amelia didn't, the one thing that would lead to her downfall, eventually, hers and Susan's too. The spell of love wasn't cast by a wand.
It was cast with his cock.
###
The silver knocker on the black door vibrated. The door slammed open and Bellatrix stalked out, screaming something behind her. She slammed the door again and paused on the top of the worn steps, her fists clenched.
Harry watched from the street. The ancestral home of the Black family was an odd one. Grimmauld Place wasn't the typical manor of a pureblood family, but it was large inside.
Sirius had cleaned it up nicely in his free time, in the future.
But in the past, it still held Bellatrix's awful aunt, Walburga. Sirius' mother. On this day, given Bella's obvious rage, it likely held Cygnus and Druella, her parents and an eternal source of frustration for her.
Bellatrix wore black robes today, from neck to toe, though she'd cut a long slit in them, so he could see all the way from a bare ankle to a provocative bare hip. She did so love to anger her elders.
As she bounced down the steps, her lidded eyes widened in surprise.
"What are you—"
"Waiting for you."
"But how—"
"Wards don't stop me." He boasted. He snapped his fingers. "Come, time for training." He boldly wrapped his arm around her and Apparated them both to their training field in the hills of Dorset.
"You can't just—" She spluttered.
"I'll do what I want, up until the point you can stop me." He said evenly. "Problems at home?"
She glared. "Just my parents being losers. They don't get it, get anything. They still treat me like a child."
"Maybe you still act like one."
"You can't provoke me that easily." She said, although her nostrils flared.
"Can't I?"
She ignored him. "They think I'm Cissy. Content to whisper in the ear of real power, frolicking around in dresses and heels."
"But?"
"But I'm not." She crossed her arms. "I know what power is. It's not being a socialite. It's not parties and politics. Power has to be taken."
"It can also be given." Harry pointed out, gesturing to himself. He threw a Disarming Charm at her, just to get her ready to spar.
She sidestepped, scowled, and replied with a Cruciatus.
"You're not giving me power, you're just teaching me until I'm useful to you." She argued. "Probably to get your wand wet."
"Am I?" He turned the blades of grass to ropes that slithered up her legs. "Then why are you still here?"
Bellatrix scythed herself free with slashes of her wand. Another slash sent a black cut at him, a cut in the world itself. Harry conjured a desk purely to see what the spell would do to it. The desk cut into two neat pieces, pieces which he assembled into an animated creature that ambled towards the dark witch.
"I'm here to take your power, since you're dumb enough to give it away." She tossed her hair back.
"So there's no good in what I do?" Harry said with amusement. "No kindness in the free lessons?"
She sneered as she lit his desk-creature into flames and projectile-blasted it back at him. "There is no good or evil, there is only power and those too weak to seek it."
Harry froze at the familiar words. Voldemort was teaching her too, working her way into his mind, seducing her with power until she'd take his Dark Mark, become the Bellatrix of legend.
He'd known it, in the back of his mind. But now it was beyond doubt.
He was running out of time. He shouldn't take her, seduce her, until Hermione and his girls had figured out how he could do so without changing the future irreversibly. But once she took the Dark Mark…she'd be beyond his reach.
The flaming desk smashed down on him, but he blew it into pieces. He was done playing. He rose up in the air, flying without aid, above Bellatrix's awestruck eyes. He batted away her curse and landed on her with a knee to her chest.
"Your curses are too slow. Someone is teaching you new spells, dangerous spells, but your fundamentals aren't up to scratch. Your stance, your footwork, it's low level." Harry said simply.
Bellatrix snarled from where she lay in the grass, holding her ribs. "I'm not talking to anyone else."
"I'm not angry." He said. "I just don't want my teachings to be undone by some amateur."
"He's not an amateur!" She insisted, ignoring his hand to haul herself up. "He's powerful beyond measure. Dangerous, lethal. Strong. You wouldn't understand."
"Wouldn't I?" Harry said idly. "Does he hurt people? Kill people? All these new curses you're showing off, they're just new ways to cause pain. They aren't useful in a duel. You're not being taught to be stronger, you're being taught to be fearsome. Is that what you want to be?"
"You don't know what—"
"Do you want to be a mighty witch or a scary headline?"
Her face reddened, her growl unbidden. "He could beat you!"
"Could he?" He crossed his arms.
"He does actual fights. Not duels or tournaments, but real life or death displays of power."
"Any fool can hurt Muggles or citizens."
Bellatrix pushed him away. "He can change the world."
"In one way, only. By making the weak fear him. By killing all that oppose him. You think your sister is weak for playing the socialite, for playing politics, but that's the way to create lasting power across the whole base. Killing people works up until there's a bigger fish."
She shook her head dismissively, her eyes cold and mocking. "Spoken like another weak man. If you could do what he could, you wouldn't care about politics either."
"If I could do what he could?" He snorted, grabbing her arm tightly. "You stupid girl, why can't you see what's right in front of you?"
"Stop, you're hurting me—"
"If I could do what he could." He muttered again, jerking his wand as he cast spells. He ripped the grass from the ground, Transfigured it to faceless masks. Stuck them to her face and his, so they were anonymous, green-shell masks covering their identities.
He Apparated them both. A second later and the whipping wind of the Dorset hills was replaced by the loud buzz of a crowded Diagon Alley. Mothers pushed their children along. Families queued at Fortescue's ice cream parlour, every table full, redundant umbrellas shading them from the sun that was already behind the clouds.
A gaggle of teenage girls pointed and laughed at the ugly dress robes of the mannequin in Madam Malkin's window.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Bellatrix hissed, trying to shake free of his firm grasp.
"I'm trying to teach you, dunderhead." Harry snapped. "Any fool in this world can hurt and pain, it doesn't make one powerful. Power is knowing when to use it."
"Let me go—"
Harry's wand danced. Madam Malkin's mannequin came to life and leapt through the window, arms extended to attack the teenage girls. Fortescue's sign exploded from his parlour and embedded like a sword in the cobbled alley.
Harry muttered a spell and the alley's road tore from the ground, cobbled rocks pinging away like buttons from a blouse. The street rose up, curling high, a peeled potato made of cement and stone.
Another chain and the peeled street shook, stretched — and walked, made into a monster, a shadow that rose up over the screaming masses.
The crowds had only way to go, and they ran, laughter turned to fearful screams. Tables were crushed as his street-monster stomped ahead. Canopies torn from the shops, chairs disintegrated, the sheer shockwave of its steps causing the windows to shatter.
The Aurors were quick to respond, appearing from nowhere, but their spells bounced uselessly against the animated cobbles.
Harry held his gaping dark witch with one tight arm as he flew high into the Alley, content to watch the destruction. The Aurors tried to fight him, but he was here to prove his power.
And power was his proof.
An Auror took the metal splinter of a lamppost and cast it at him. Harry switched the projectile with a fallen icecream and caught the cone.
"Vanilla." He tasted. "Not very you, Bella." He placed the cone in the cleavage of her robes, because she was too stunned to stop him.
Spells shot at him, too many to count, but he was no longer there. He settled down on the highest tip of his peeled street monster and, with a muttered spell of ice, slid down it like it was a frozen surf wave, Bellatrix in arm.
On the beach of his surfed wave, the Aurors lined up. A wave of his wand to pull the sun umbrellas from every table of the ice cream parlour, another to meld them together, one more to layer it with his strongest shields.
As he and Bellatrix walked forward, their melded sun-brellas became their shield, a pink fabric dome emblazoned with the symbol of Fortescue's mustache. Harry held Bella's hip and pulled her closer to him, as their umbrella glowed with the color of ineffectual spells.
"Do you feel powerful yet?" He whispered into her ear.
She looked up at him, her arms covered in gooseflesh, her eyes wide and wild. She was panting, trembling.
Harry realized then that he'd misjudged things, taken Cissy's word for truth. Of course Narcissa would be biased. Of course she'd believe the best in her sister.
But the truth was that this was Bellatrix. She was a power-hungry psycho. It was the only language she spoke.
And the only language she'd listen to.
He flicked his wand and every umbrella retracted, drew in, until it was just one stack of melded poles. The Aurors blinked in surprise as they were suddenly face to face with their green-masked attackers.
"Engorgio." Harry murmured. The melded umbrella poles grew as large as a sequoia tree trunk.
"Run!" One bright Auror shouted.
"Too late." Harry whispered into Bellatrix's ear, palming her breast as he settled his chin on her shoulder, a chin-rest so he could watch the show. "The sun's come out."
He flicked his wand — and the engorged umbrella flicked open in an abrupt explosion. The umbrella was massive, a trampoline given propulsive force. The Aurors had no chance — they were bounced like dolls. One flew into the third floor of the Daily Prophet. One's head smacked into a lamp-post so hard that the light broke.
Two Aurors flew so high that Harry thought they'd land in Knockturn Alley.
They'd live, all of them, but Diagon Alley was suddenly empty. Harry turned to Bellatrix.
"Do you understand, now?"
She shivered, holding herself. "I d-didn't know. I didn't know." She repeated nonsensically.
"I can do anything I want in this life. Wards, Aurors, the Dark Lord, they can't stop me." Harry took his finger and thumb over the bump of her nipple in her robes and squeezed it. She just stood there as his hands descended down her body.
Over her hips, squeezing her asscheeks. And then, slipping through the slit in her robes, between her thighs. Pulling aside her wet panties.
"If I wanted you," Harry told her. "I'd just take you." He jammed his finger into her soaking cunt roughly, working it into the tightness of her pussy.
She let him, staring at him, speechless. He fingered her in the middle of the alley, until all she could hear was the sound of distant crying and the squelches of her pussy.
"I understand." She admitted finally.
"This is power, see? So when I tell you that there are better ways to conquering, to ruling, than killing and fear-mongering, believe it."
"What are you going to do with me?"
He pulled his finger free, brought it to her mouth, let her suckle it clean. He saw the madness in her eyes, the fanaticism that was more pronounced twenty years later.
He met her gaze evenly, confidently. "Whatever I want."
###
"I have it! Harry, I have it!"
Harry looked up as the bedroom door swung open, pausing as he lapped up the chocolate sauce that Narcissa drizzled onto her bare breasts, lowering her hard nipples into his mouth.
Hermione squeaked as she entered. "Ah, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'll come back later."
"It's okay." Harry lay back on the bed and patted Cissy's ass. "Cissy."
"I'll get started on dinner." The demure mother blushed. She pressed a kiss to his lips, pulled her discarded apron back onto herself, slipped back into her heels, and strode off without a word.
Hermione fidgeted as the Malfoy matriarch passed her. "Did I…come at a bad time?"
"Not at all. I was just having lunch." Harry grinned. "Strawberries and chocolate, but we got carried away."
His best friend looked back at the open door. "You've really screwed her mind up, Harry." She hissed quietly. "I caught her this morning deepthroating a cucumber."
"Oh, no, she's just in love." Harry smiled wistfully. "Isn't it great? Anyway, what did you find?"
Hermione vibrated with excitement. "I have what you asked me for." She peered over at the sheets, trying to find a clean spot, and then perched herself down on the mattress primly.
"You do?"
"The way to…take Bellatrix and steal her away from Voldemort, without ruining our timeline. Without people coming back to life, without others dying, without changing everything."
Harry sat up, breathless. "Seriously? I knew you could do it."
"You haven't been too reckless in the past already, have you?"
He paused, thinking back to his splashy attack on Diagon Alley. Tearing the street up, bouncing the Aurors into the sky like a Saturday morning cartoon. "No, not at all."
"Hmm."
He coughed. "How did you figure it out?"
Hermione blushed, taking his hand in hers. "It was so perfect. It was just like in first year. The big Eureka moment came by way of a Chocolate Frog card, just like Nicholas Flamel."
"Huh?"
She showed him a pentagonal blue card, on which an old wizard glowered, stroking a mighty white beard and squeezing a serpent in one hand. "Herpo the Foul."
Harry took the card and read the back. "Herpo the Foul was an Ancient Greek wizard and the first known creator of the Basilisk. I know about Herpo, I told you about him, remember?"
Hermione nodded rapidly. "You did. You told me about what Voldemort had done to himself, about horcruxes. The horcruxes that Herpo invented."
"Right." Harry said uncertainly. Where was she going with this? "He's like the Merlin of the Dark Arts — all the evil things you can think of, Herpo did it first. That's why they call him Herpo the Foul."
"Tell me again." Hermione bounced on the mattress, squeezing his hand. She ignored his erect cock, dripping with chocolate sauce.
Harry sighed. "Well, it's like I said. I Tom had buried the memories of his Horcruxes so deep that they only broke free in my mind recently. We were at breakfast, we were talking about those tabloid articles about Cedric and the rentboy. You were saying he should be called a sex worker, not a whore—"
Hermione huffed. She eyed the chocolate sauce that was running down the veiny of his girthy shaft. "I'm not wrong. It's derogatory."
"Right—"
"I suppose Cissy enjoys being called a whore."
"I mean, she just likes it because I like it—"
"I can do anything she can." Hermione said suddenly.
"I know you can, sweetheart, you don't need to—"
"I suppose I shouldn't argue about semantic correction when I debase myself so easily for your enjoyment." Hermione said, her hand taking grasp at the base of his cock.
"I'm not going to call you a whore, Hermione." Harry reassured.
She gave him an exasperated smile as her tongue lapped away the sauce from his cock. "If the shoe fits, I suppose. Don't let me stop you."
"R-right," Harry stuttered as she took his cock into her wet warm mouth, slurping away. "So Fred said that the whore is the crux of the issue, and that triggered the memory. Tom murdered and split his soul in order to seal the splinters of his soul into objects. Just like Herpo did, originally."
Hermione pulled off his cock, licking her lips. She held his shaft straight, threw a leg over his lap, and settled down onto his throbbing dick. She closed her eyes and squealed as she sank. "So big, so big, so big." She chanted, biting her lip. "You're — oh, Merlin — what on earth. That's not right, it's not normal, it's rubbing against my heart, I swear—"
"Hermione?" Harry groaned as he was embedded deep inside her. She was indescribably tight.
"I'm okay. I'm okay." She moaned, rocking back and forth.
"Uh, Herpo the Foul?"
"Right." Her eyes flicked open, embarrassed. She braced her hands on his thighs. "I read everything you told me to read, all those tomes you've taken about horcruxes and the bonding spell you've used on us."
Harry held her hands as she held them out, letting her use him to pull herself forward and back, grinding herself slowly. "I'm not going to split my soul, Mione."
She smiled at him dazedly. "Not your soul. Theirs."
"What?"
"When you bond us, you take our hearts and our souls, my love."
"But—"
"So that's the secret to taking Bellatrix safely. You bond her and splinter her soul into an object. Your bond, the part of her soul that you own, it goes into the object." She gasped and pulled his hand up to her breasts, making him palm them roughly.
"And then—"
"And then, in the future, in the now, I mean." She bit her lip as she rocked. "You break that object open — the splintered soul feeds back into them. An unstoppable unimaginable reminder of your bond, their love for you, their memories of your time together."
"Is…what? Would that work?" Harry's mind worked as he parsed through her words. A horcrux without a murder. A piece of soul that was not meant to revive a life, but to revive a bond.
Bellatrix, bonded but unknowingly, the part of her that belonged to him sealed away. She'd carry on with her life, her servitude to Tom.
A sleeping secret agent, ready to awoken in the here and now. He'd break the sealed object, awakening her to her true purpose.
All of a sudden, she'd be his. Tom's most trusted, Harry's most loyal.
It was madness, magic volatile and dangerous. But…it was viable.
It could work.
It would work.
Hermione whimpered as she rode him, her blouse pulled down under her breasts, her skirt hiding their joined connection. Harry pulled her forward so she fell on his chest, so he could hold her back and thrust forcefully into her pulsating, sopping pussy.
"It's brilliant." Harry told her, pulling her hair back so he could kiss. "You're brilliant."
She moaned and came, squirting all over his cock, thighs trembling uncontrollably. "Yours, yours, yours." She mumbled.
"My whore, my slut, my love?" He tested.
"Anything as long as I'm yours." Hermione promised.
He fucked until he finished inside her, and then he held her to his neck, breathing with her, sweaty skin stuck together, her hips still circling to make the sensations good for him.
"I'm so proud of you, my Mione." He told her.
Hermione tossed her hair back and smiled at him tiredly. "You are?"
"I've never been more so."
"I didn't really do anything. We don't know it'll work, not for sure. You still need to figure out how to split a soul without killing."
"It will work." Harry said confidently. "And then, one day, you'll get your own Chocolate Frog card."
She beamed at him. "Do you really think?"
"I do." Harry smiled mischievously. "Hermione Granger. The inventor of the Whorecrux."