Let Me Love You

by Myst867

Summary:

In a Ministry raid gone awry, Hermione is dosed with a fertility potion that leaves her completely out of her mind with need. The doctors at St. Mungos tell Harry that the only way to keep her alive is to satisfy her until they find a cure. Harry isn't about to let anyone else touch Hermione but him. He just hopes she can forgive him afterward.

Notes:

• In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the Harmony Summertime Madness collection.

Chapter 1: One Month

Notes:

Consent is inherently problematic with the Fuck or Die trope. As such I've marked the Rape/Non-con warning just so there's no accidental hurting/triggering of feelings. There is no incidence in this story where Hermione says stop and Harry does not stop.

 

 

 

---

The Aftermath

 

Twenty-eight-year-old Harry Potter stormed through his heavily warded residence, finally getting relief from the shouts and the flashing of camera bulbs that followed him everywhere now. The wizarding press idiots didn’t realize if he truly was a dark wizard the very first fucking thing on his list would be them. 

A small house elf appeared almost immediately. “Would Master— “

“I told you not to call me that!” Harry snapped and then felt instantly guilty when the little house elf sniffled. Another irony on top of the many in his life.  Actually missing Kreacher's glaring and hateful face. Who would have thought? Certainly not him.  With a controlled breath, Harry stopped and turned to the little elf. “Moppet, please, call me Harry, okay?” 

The little house elf tugged nervously on her long ears, her eyes darting around before she nodded hesitantly. “But would ma—Harry want food for the mistress?” 

“Yes, please, as we discussed with the doctor, protein heavy with the vitamin supplements, Moppet.” 

The house elf that Harry had gotten after moving Hermione into his residence nodded eagerly, happy to do anything Harry asked. With a controlled sigh after Moppet disappeared, Harry turned and trudged back to the stairs, warmth already pooling in his stomach at the thought of what awaited him. 

Hours later as he lay amongst the wreck of his bed with the love of his life sprawled over him he murmured to her,” It’s so ironic that it would be because of you, and yet at the same time it’s so…” Harry trailed off, searching for the word as he stared at the ceiling of his bedroom in Grimmauld. “What’s the word, Hermione?” He ran his hand through her soft curls, but Hermione didn’t look up at him.  “You would have known.” She didn’t react to his words, too busy nuzzling at his navel, her lips drifting sensually along his skin. 

Sometimes Hermione reacted as if she understood when he spoke to her, but mostly she didn’t. The last time Harry had heard her speak was the day after the incident that started everything.  When he stopped talking, she looked up, her gaze seeking more from him. 

Her brown eyes had changed after the first time they slept together while on the potion that had changed her.  Before Hermione's eyes had been a beautiful light amber brown. Whiskey eyes, Harry had always privately thought. Now, her light brown iris had jagged streaks of green through it- almost as if he had poisoned her. Harry didn’t flinch when he met her new gaze.

It had been unnerving to Harry to meet her gaze at first.  It was a vivid reminder of everything that had gone wrong for the two of them.  But now, as the months had passed, her gaze was impossibly intertwined with Harry’s most cherished sensual memories.   

He had taken too long to continue, and Hermione lowered her head, her eyes never leaving his as she nipped at his skin. The side of Harry’s mouth curled up at her demand, and he reached out to run a hand through her messy curls. 

She wasn’t Hermione, but she was. “If any stranger, anyone who read the Prophet, were to have guessed —“ Harry broke off with a huff of laughter. “Especially during fourth year — remember that? Anyone—anyone—would have guessed that the end of the so-called golden trio would have been over you. And they would have been right.” 

Hermione smirked at him as if she understood and made some abrupt feminine movement of her head, which flipped her curls behind her shoulders. The healers told him Hermione didn’t understand his words, although she still had a keen understanding of his moods and intent.  

She understood his admiration.  

She understood he loved her unbearably. 

Or perhaps that’s just what he wanted to believe. 

Her soft skin slid along his as she moved up, pressing her lips to his, and he tasted her smile. “I love you.” Harry whispered against her lips, his hands roving over her back and clutching her close as she spread her legs straddling him. 

Her soft inhalation as she rubbed the head of his cock on her wet pussy was electrifying. 

“Hermione…” He gasped as she slid down on him, then rose up again, her nipples tight and hair wild. 

This was worth it— she was worth it.  He’d burn the world to keep her. 

Her nails dug into his sides as she kept his gaze while she moved on top of him.  Possessiveness raged back in her mixed brown and green gaze. 

---

I love you. Even if this is all we ever have, it will be enough, because I have you.

---

 

The Present

 

The beat of the music pulsed through Hermione’s body, dragging her heart rate along with it. The loud music, the flashing lights, the press of the bodies, and the high percentage of alcohol in her blood made everything seem slightly surreal.

It was just what Hermione needed after her week from hell.  She had been pushing for regulatory changes to hiring practices with the Ministry of Magic that had gotten nowhere - and she had broken up with her boyfriend Ron. Harry came back to the table giving her another drink to replace her empty one.

Hermione avoided his eyes, tipping up her drink and letting the warmth of the fire whiskey burn through her. She knew Harry was worried about her behavior or that she was going to fall apart but the precise reason she was so upset was because she wasn’t that upset about breaking up with Ron. She was more angry over the regulatory changes being disregarded than at the end of her seven-year relationship with the third of their trio.

Looking into the crowd of people dancing, she saw a blonde woman doing her best to catch Harry’s eye. If the woman shook any more vigorously her boobs were going to pop right out on the dance floor.  Rolling her eyes, Hermione leaned forward to yell so Harry would hear her over the music. “Hey, looks like someone wants to dance with you?”

Harry didn’t even bother to look. “No, I’m staying with you.”

“Really, Harry. Go dance.”

“No.” He had a stubborn expression on his face as he sat there. Harry hadn’t drunk nearly as much as she had. One of them had to be sober enough to apparate them home without splinching he had advised her seriously when she noted that earlier.

Hermione drummed her fingers on the table, contemplating him. Harry had been single since he broke up with Ginny several years earlier.  Although Hermione knew he dated occasionally, he was mostly on his own except for her and Ron. She didn’t understand why he had broken up with Ginny - they both had been remarkably tight-lipped about the entire thing. Seeing the questions in Harry’s green eyes made her restrain a wince.  Not that she and Ron were being more forthcoming about the reason for their breakup.

“Look if you go enjoy yourself for this one dance, we can go home afterward.” Hermione offered persuasively. Harry stared at her for a minute, then nodded and got up. Hermione couldn’t help her slight smile at the determination on his face as Harry made his way into the crowd of dancers. This was not Harry’s type of place— honestly, it wasn’t hers either, but she just felt like she needed to do something  different after breaking up with Ron.

Her life was very structured, which was something she had worked very hard to make happen post-war. She had settled into a very challenging and rewarding career in the Department of Mysteries after a brief and horrifying stint in the Department for Regulation of Magical Creatures. She had a regular work week but often stayed late of her own volition because the work was so interesting.

Ron like Harry had a more erratic schedule because of the nature of Auror work.  Both her best friends regularly participated in specialized teams and investigations due to their experience in the war.  Despite those challenges, their work for Magical Law Enforcement was frequently very mundane.  After all, they had experienced fighting against a much more organized and equipped opposition with very few resources and even less knowledge.  Nothing they had faced as adults compared to the trials of their teenage years.

As a result of that, Hermione and Ron’s relationship had fallen into a very rote rut.

Pencil in some sex on Wednesdays and perhaps Sundays after dinner at the Burrow.

It had been a Sunday after the family dinner that the breakup had happened.  She and Ron had been lying on the bed, side by side, staring at the ceiling, when he had asked out of the blue. “Are you happy, Hermione?”

Hermione frowned, staring up at the ceiling. “Yes?” She had intended it to sound affirmative, but it came out in a questioning manner.

“Do you love me?”

“Yes.” She answered more definitively, reaching out to ruffle his bright red hair.

“Would you marry me?”

Her frown deepened. Planning a wedding would take up time. “Well, I have some projects going on at work right now. When are you thinking?”

“Is that the way to respond to a proposal?”

Hermione pulled lightly on his hair, not stopping until Ron let out a yelp, yanking her hand away. “Are you getting after  me  for not being romantic when you proposed like that?”

“That’s the whole problem with us, don’t you see?”

“Is this your way of saying we don’t have sex enough?” She probably could pencil sex in for Mondays also.  Or perhaps Tuesdays would be better for her schedule.  Mondays were often rough at work due to meetings.

“Argh.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that —“ Ron gesticulated wildly, waving his arms in the air. “This isn’t quite right! Can’t you see?”

“Are you saying you want to break up?”

“What if I did?”

Hermione grimaced. “Everyone would go crazy. Remember how they all reacted when Harry and Ginny broke up? You’d have thought Voldemort came back.”

“Merlin, is that the only reason you can think of for why we shouldn’t break up?”

Hermione let out a sigh, turning toward Ron and putting her head on his shoulder. “Do we have to do this today? Dinner with your family always takes so much energy from me. I need a nap.”

Ron’s arm curved around her, and his head tilted down so his chin was resting on top of her head. “Tomorrow then.”

Their breakup had been exactly that anti-climactic and that dull. After all the sniping she and Ron had done during Hogwarts, after all the fights, after going through a war together— that had been the end of the relationship.  Not with a bang, but a whimper.

So seven years after officially getting together at the end of the war, they had both realized (Ron had realized, Hermione hadn’t noticed) that they existed as flatmates who slept together on a schedule.

They loved each other, but they didn’t  love  each other. At least not the romantic kind that Ron yearned for.  Hermione didn’t even know if she was capable of that kind of love. It made her feel a bit embarrassed but she’d rather be working than almost anything else.  She did love Ron, he was her best friend, and they had been through so much together.  So the fact that she was completely disengaged on that emotional level had to mean something that was wrong with her. Shouldn’t she have been more upset?

The people dancing shifted suddenly, and Hermione spotted bare skin among the clothed dancers; a man had ripped off his shirt to dance.  Idly Hermione eyed the back, noting the curves of the muscles and looking lower to the curve of his arse.

Hermione licked her lips, thinking that she had perhaps gotten used to sex on a schedule.  It wasn’t until the man turned that she realized she had been checking out Harry.  He had a scowl on his face as he stomped back to the table, and she couldn’t help the red flush that burned on her cheeks as she realized she had been ogling him.

Harry held out his hand to her demandingly. “Alright. Let’s go.”

“What happened to your shirt?” Hermione asked, trying to keep her eyes off his chest as she slid her hand into his and let him pull her up.

“Some woman vanished it,” Harry said irritably.

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “Who? That’s illegal—“

“Hermione, let’s go?” Harry interrupted her intention to cite the exact statutes the woman had violated.

“But— “

She was cut off again as Harry started pulling her through the dancing crowd. It was kind of amusing how even drunk the crowd still parted for him. Hermione kept an eye out for the blonde she had prompted him to dance with.  If she spotted that witch she was going to hit her with a stinging hex. Really, what had that woman been thinking?

The rush of cool air once they got outside was a bit sobering as they walked out onto the quieter, darker street. Blast she hadn’t spotted the woman. “Harry, are you sure you don’t want to file a report—“

“Yes.” He said shortly pulling her out onto the apparition point and into his arms.

Hermione barely had a chance to suck in a breath before they were squeezed together, her face smushed against his pectoral. When they popped back into existence in front of her flat, she didn’t move for long moments, clutching him. “Oh god, Harry, next time, warn me.”

“Are you going to be sick?” Harry asked cautiously, patting her back.

“No, but—“ She patted his chest appreciatively. “You have a very nice chest!”

He laughed and pulled her along. “You’ve seen my chest before.”

“Yes, but not like — for um a few years? A while?”

“We played shirts versus skins quidditch last month at the Burrow. You were there. I was a skin.”

Hermione frowned at his back, her gaze focused on his arse as he pulled her along. “But… I hadn’t noticed…”

“Mhmm.” Harry agreed with her barely paying attention as he pulled her into the lift. It was thankfully empty.  This allowed Hermione to study Harry as he stood in the center braced with his hands at his hips in a Superman pose. She giggled.  He  was  practically the wizarding Superman. “What’s funny?”

“You’re Superman!”

“Wow,” Harry muttered as the lift dinged and he grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers together. “You’re way more pissed than I thought.”

“I am not! You were standing — “ Hermione tried to mimic but was pulled along by Harry “And then your arse!”

Harry froze for a second in front of her door, turning to look at her slowly. “My what?”

“Your arse! It’s very good looking— like—” Hermione made a grabbing motion with her hands. “I hadn’t noticed before, and your back— ”

Harry banged his head lightly against the door. “Why now?”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Harry sucked in a deep breath unlocking her door and holding it wide open. “You just need some sober up.”

“I’m telling you I’m not that drunk!” Hermione advised him, indignantly flopping onto her sofa.

Harry ignored her going into her kitchen for a glass of water and searching through her prepped potions. Hermione was always extremely organized, and breaking up with Ron hadn’t derailed that. In alphabetical order in her medicine cabinet, he found a neatly labeled sober-up potion and plucked it out of the cabinet.

He set them down with a thump on the coffee table in front of her. “Okay, you’re not drunk.”

“Now you’re just humoring me.”

“Let’s see if you want to tell me my arse is good-looking while you’re sober.”

“Of course, I would —“ Hermione cut off with a scoff at his skeptical look, grabbing the potion first and swallowing it swiftly with a grimace. “Blegh. Why do they always have to taste so bad?” She grabbed the glass of water gratefully, tipping it up to get the taste out of her mouth.

Harry raised his eyebrows promptingly.  “You were saying?”

“Really, Harry! I was not that drunk.”

Very deliberately, Harry sat next to her, his weight on the cushions causing her to shift closer to him. He looked over at her as she slid next to him. “So what about my arse then?”

“You have a very nice arse,” Hermione admitted freely to him, speaking more softly. The air felt electric, like a storm was gathering but hadn’t yet broken. Being near Harry had always been a comfort, like slipping under your favorite blanket.  But now it was too warm to be comfortable, her skin too sensitive to be pressed against him.

Hermione shook her head slightly, trying to dispel the feeling but it remained. “Harry.” His name came out involuntarily and her voice sounded husky.  She cleared her throat, feeling her face heat.  His eyes were bright and fixed on her,  intent and questioning. “Why does this feel so weird?” She asked him, unable to look away from the look on his face.

Harry leaned closer to her. He had only turned on the light in the kitchen when they entered her flat. The light barely reached them where they sat on the sofa.  The warmth of the moment and the shadows cast on their faces made it feel so intimate sitting with him.  Intimate . The thought jolted her, making Hermione try to pull back and create some distance between them. Where had that come from?

“What does it feel like?” Harry asked, his voice hushed as if he felt the storm about to break too.

Hermione reached up, lightly resting her fingertips against his cheek. Harry was always warm. Even when they had been younger and malnourished huddled together in the tent, his skin had been so warm. Privately, fancifully, Hermione thought it had something to do with his magic.  The power of it trying to keep him comfortable even while they starved, desperately searching for the Horcruxes. Hermione made to draw away her hand but Harry reached up quickly, laying his hand atop hers so she was cradling his face.

“What does it feel like?” He repeated a stubborn tone to his voice.

“Harry.”

“Hermione.” He repeated back flatly, not giving an inch.

Her forehead wrinkled as she considered him. “Harry.” She said thoughtfully, trying to be analytical. “I think I’m experiencing a rebound.”

“What?” Harry asked, startled.

Hermione’s frown deepened as she considered him and the fact that her body was suddenly going haywire from her best friend’s proximity. She explained the phenomenon. “When someone breaks up from a long-term relationship, they can sometimes be affected by poor decision making. I didn’t think I would be susceptible to such a thing, but—” Hermione gestured with a free hand between the two of them.

“You’re saying you only think I’m attractive because you’re on the rebound from Ron?”

“Oh no. You’ve always been attractive. I just hadn’t noticed how hot your arse was before though. Or your back.” Hermione concluded thoughtfully.

The edges of Harry’s eyes crinkled with humor. “But now you are because you’re rebounding?”

“Oh no. I’m sure I would have noticed  that  regardless.” She wasn’t blind after all.

Harry nodded in agreement, her hand moving with him since he was still keeping it pressed against his face. “So you’re not rebounding by noticing my arse. Good to know. Why exactly are you noticing it then?”

Hermione leaned close to him until their noses practically touched. She wanted to make sure she got the full expression of shock Harry was sure to have. “Because I think my hormones are out of control and I want to shag you, I think.”

“Oh.” Harry paused, his tongue coming out to wet his lips. “I’ve wanted to shag you for ages.”

Her mouth dropped open at the confession, and he must have taken that as an invitation because he leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers. His lips were soft and warm, and when his tongue slipped into her mouth, she had to restrain a moan. Harry tasted divine.

The tension between them tightened, and she felt too hot as he licked the inside of her mouth.  His tongue moved slowly and confidently against hers. She squeezed her thighs together and her hands grasped his shoulders to keep him kissing her.

Hermione felt dizzy as the kiss continued, her body pulsing in the rhythm of the loving strokes of his tongue.  If he kissed like this, what would going to bed with him feel like? She forgot to breathe as everything else went fuzzy for her but Harry.  She might have eventually fainted against him if he hadn’t pulled back.  And despite the fact that she was practically gasping for air she followed his lips, not wanting to stop.

“Bloody hell!” She gasped out as her brain kicked back into gear, throwing herself backward to the other side of the sofa. “No, no, no, no! We are not making this mistake with each other.”

“Hermione— “

“No, I am not seducing you on some type of weird rebound and ruining our friendship—“

“Hermione— “

“It would just be terrible— can you imagine what they would say! All those awful people who believed the trash the Prophet printed—“

“HERMIONE!”

Hermione was startled when Harry shouted sucking in fast breaths still unable to calm her body down. She could still taste him. Harry’s face was red as he stared at her, his eyes glittering.

“You are not seducing  me — I am seducing  you !”

Even though he had kissed her, Hermione shook her head. No, this was definitely something she had done. “No, you don’t feel  that  way about me— I mean you always told people that you think of me like—“

“No! I  don’t! Well. Haven’t. Didn’t! Fuck, Hermione, I want you— I’ve wanted you for a long time.”

Hermione heard the words but couldn’t even quite make sense of them. She jumped up from the sofa, backing away from Harry.  Perhaps proximity was the culprit. “Look I’m sorry I confused things between us and I just —” Hermione waved her hand in the air still trying to get rid of the fraught feeling that was making her heart do jumping jacks in her chest. “We both are tired, and not thinking clearly— and we can just forget about this.”

“Hermione.”

The way he said her name made everything inside her still and her hands froze awkwardly in the air as she stared at him.

“Hermione ,” Harry repeated, his voice low and husky. Hermione couldn’t stop the shiver that went through her at the sound. She licked her lips and a small shudder went through her, she could still taste him. Harry took a step toward her and the connection between them twisted tighter again, like a rubber band trying to snap them back together.

“Tell me you think I’m fanciable, Hermione.” The corners of Harry’s mouth tilted up as he took another step. “Tell me you like my arse. Tell me now that we’re both sober and single.”

There was no air for Hermione to even think of trying to speak. She licked her lips again as he came closer.  So close she could feel the warmth of his body. She tensed, resisting the urge to take that last step to close the gap.  His muscles were tense as he watched her, trying to anticipate her, and Hermione could feel the vibration of his magic on her skin.

She had spent countless nights curled against Harry. And those memories were working against her now.  She remembered the tight feel of his embrace as he slept, the way he liked to have a leg thrown over her.  How heavy he had been pressed against her.

Now, Harry stared at her from just a step away with such hungry intent.  His green eyes were so dark. It felt like a fire was burning between them.

Jesus.  This was Harry. What was she thinking? What was he thinking?

Harry took that last step and his arms wrapped tight around her, pulling her so close there was no space between them. “Tell me.” He demanded, his lips brushing against hers with each word, and her heart raced because she did want to tell him.

Hermione wanted to tell him how much she admired the way his shirt stretched over his chest.  The way his shoulders set when he made up his mind. The crooked way he smiled at her when he was teasing her.

Her mouth opened but he didn’t give her a chance to respond, his tongue finding hers again. As he kissed her his hands moved lower along her back until he found the edge of her shirt.  Then he slid them underneath her shirt.

It was the heat of his hands on her bare back that made Hermione jerk away again, holding out her hands. “Harry— wait!”

Harry remained where he stood watching her carefully.

“I can’t, Harry.”

“Why?” He asked simply.

Hermione ran a trembling hand through her hair.  “I know you think you feel some kind of way about me, but I don’t — we don’t have— I mean—”  Hermione broke off with a frustrated sound. “You’re too important to me, our friendship is too important to me to risk it by rushing into a one-night stand.”

Harry’s jaw tightened, and he put his hands into his pockets. “It wouldn’t be a one-night stand. I’m in love with you.”

“I know you think you do, but you’re confused, it’s my fault obviously— I— “

Harry reached into his back pocket and brought out his wand. “Expecto Patronum.” He said firmly, and an otter tumbled out, swimming around them.

Hermione felt like she had been hit with a confundus, her mouth opening and nothing emerging for a long moment.  Her eyes met his soft green eyes in bewildered wonder. “I don’t understand, your patronus has always been a stag, like your father’s.”

Harry shook his head slowly, his lips compressed to a thin line. “It hasn’t been for a while.”

It took Hermione two tries to make the words come out; her throat was so tight. “How long?”

The otter twirled in the air, looking at her, swimming in twirly figure eights around her. The silence stretched so long that Hermione thought he wasn’t going to respond. “It’s why Ginny and I broke up.”

Hermione stumbled back until she landed on the sofa. “Jesus.”

“I wouldn’t have said anything if you had stayed with Ron.”

“Harry I—“  Hermione stopped swallowed hard and tried again. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Say yes.”

Hermione ran an agitated hand through her hair. “I need time, I need to think— I — Jesus. Ginny knows?”

“Yes.”

Hermione had just thought she and Ginny had grown apart. “That’s why she stopped being friendly to me.”

Harry frowned. “She knows it wasn’t anything you did. It was me— I couldn’t help it.”

“You should have told me! This — you should have told me!”

“You and Ron were together.  I wasn’t going to be selfish and break you two up because I had fallen in love with you.”

“You should have told me.” She repeated more softly.

“I’m telling you now.” He came toward her slowly, where she sat on the sofa and slowly lowered so he was on one knee in front of her and their faces were inches apart. “Give us a chance.  I can make you happy.”

Hermione believed him. But she still needed time.  She had just broken up with Ron, and if they were going to do this right, they needed to take their time. A part of her still couldn’t believe this was happening.  “I need to think about this.”

Disappointment flashed briefly over Harry’s face before it changed to determination. “How long?”

“Three months,” Hermione said firmly.  That should be more than enough time for either of them to come to their sense before jumping into a relationship.

Harry placed his hands on her knees, and she bit her lip at the sensation. “One month.” His hands caressed an inch up her thighs, and Hermione was surprised she didn’t combust.

“One month.” She agreed breathlessly, and Harry smiled at her.

 

 

Notes:

This fic is fully plotted out and as you might guess from the trope/prompt/tagging it's very graphic sexually. I have not tagged all sexual acts that appear in this fic, so heads up on that. There's a lot of sex, in many different positions and kinks. Please don't get agitated in the comments over it, I'll just delete it and move on. It will be very similar to my fic Love You Like A Love Song if you need a point of reference.

5/31/25 ~~ So I've been on a bit of a hiatus - fixed the intro to this one like I wanted. There's some others I have a bit of work done and I'm currently working on again that I'm going to pull out of hiatus in the coming weeks. Including that intertwined epilogue for 3rd year. Got a surprise for that one - we'll see how it lands when I hit publish.

༓ ∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘ ༓
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Chapter 2: A Raid Gone Wrong

Summary:

Even victims can be dangerous.

 

Two days later….

 

Hermione had diagrams papering the walls of the large conference room as multiple agencies sat in attendance watching her present the facts of the case attentively.  She tried not to make eye contact with a particularly keen green-eyed stare as it would likely derail the rhythm of her presentation and this debrief was too important.

For the past year, the British Ministry of Magic had been in cooperation with the International Confederation of Wizards to hunt for the mad master potioneer Calix Belby. Belby had been experimenting on magical and nonmagical females, leaving them in various stages of dissection.  Most of the victims had been in some stage of pregnancy and evidence of sexual assault had been noted on the bodies.

As a child growing up and learning about magical society Hermione had always felt the Dementor’s Kiss was inhumane.  Especially after the incidents in her third year at Hogwarts with Harry’s godfather Sirius Black.  Harry and Sirius had both barely been spared the kiss through events so convoluted it was truly a miracle. Now as an adult with several years in the Department of Mysteries under her belt, she had changed her mind.  There was no saving some people, and deranged dark magic users were a dangerous threat to society if left unchecked.

“Ministry Decree 786.028, subsection 41 states that any potion or spellwork which has contributed or is likely to contribute to the exposure of the magical world to muggles is to be remanded to the care of the Department of Mysteries for handling and suppression if necessary.”

She waved her wand and a translucent image of Calix Belby stood before everyone. Calix Belby was of diminutive height, shorter than Hermione with a small frame. “Evidence gathered shows that Potions Master Calix Belby is the brain behind the recent string of murders which has garnered the attention of the Metropolitan Police service.”

Several wizards and witches twitched, and Hermione reading their expressions reminded them of what that was while struggling to keep a long-suffering expression from her face. “The Met is the Muggle version of the Aurors.”

Ron leaned over to Harry to remark quietly, “I bet you Robards is going to get a missive from her on everyone she thinks needs more tutoring on muggle relations.”

The corner of Harry’s mouth twitched in acknowledgment but he kept his eyes on Hermione’s presentation.  He wanted to throw Belby and everyone helping him into the darkest bowels of Azkaban. He’d make it a point to attend when they got their souls sucked out by Dementors.

An international task force had been struggling for months to track down Belby.  This was difficult because Belby was well supported with money from sources all of the world and had acquired his own personal mercenaries to protected him and his murderous experiments.  The ICW had almost captured him in France and most of their information came from the evidence acquired in that failed raid.

Between the risk of exposure to the muggle world and the atrocities found in the Marseille laboratory, the public outcry was deafening. As a result, agencies that normally snipped at each other and refused to share information were working cohesively for once to bring Belby in.

“Do not touch any items on work tables, do not touch any victims, do not touch any vials.” Hermione continued pointing with her wand at pictures taken from the Marseille raid. “Show compassion to victims, but be aware of the possibility of cross-contamination.  Some of the recovered potions were so potent the effects were spread by skin-to-skin contact hours after ingestion.”

Hermione paused swallowing heavily before her shoulders straightened and her wand waved again, bringing up pictures of the twenty-six identified victims. They were all young females.  Six were mugglewomen.  Twelve had been muggle-born witches. The last eight victims had been considered half-breeds or women with creature inheritance by the British Magical Society.  Three veelas and five succubi. “We know from recovered notebooks that Belby is continuing his experimentation to create a fertility potion.  So far as we know, he has murdered twenty-six women, including some who were pregnant.”

There was a soft scoff in the audience and Hermione turned sharply, her wand pointing into the crowd. “Did you have something to add Clarke?”

A chubby blonde-haired bloke straightened in his seat, his cheeks heating at being called out like a schoolboy.  The Regulation for Care and Control of Magical Creatures division badge gleamed on his chest. “You just misspoke. He only killed twelve women.”

Staring at Clarke, for just a second, Hermione felt like she was thirteen again and getting called a mudblood by Malfoy.  Then rage rushed through her as she stiffened, her shoulders going back.  “Get out.”

Stephen Clarke looked around the room for someone else who had the sense to understand what he was saying. Everyone in the conference room looked at him blankly, even those he knew agreed with him privately.  It was ridiculous they couldn’t even say things that were true anymore as everyone had to be so careful of the muggle-born’s sensitivities. Clarke stood up abruptly. “Look Belby shouldn’t be killing people, but you’re standing in front of us giving a report and clearly misstating half-breeds as — “

“Depulso.” Harry snapped before Hermione could, the white magic of his banishment charm shoved Clarke out of the room with tremendous force.  He crashed with a loud thud against the wall outside.  Harry glanced back at Robards and quirked his brow.  Robards just nodded back.

Harry turned back to Hermione who looked a second away from exploding. He hoped she wouldn’t be too upset later for him taking out the rubbish before she could.  “We’ll take care of him later, please continue.”

Taking in a controlled breath Hermione waved her wand at the door, shutting it on a groaning Clarke in the hallway before continuing. “The raid will start at two am sharp, in the hopes that we will take them unaware and encounter minimum resistance.  The Aurors will be handling Belby’s protection detail, ICW is targeting Belby himself, and the Unspeakables will work together with healers to confiscate all materials and take care of any victims we may find.”

Hermione paused and Harry nodded, getting up to walk to the front while she went to sit at one of the chairs to the side of the presentation. He pulled out his wand, quickly sketching out a glowing white schematic of the cottage they would be raiding in a few hours with his magic.  They’d studied the structure for hours in the days since the information had come in about the possible location and obtained the original building plans from the Ministry’s records division.

“Although we have a plan for the layout, everyone must keep in mind that there may have been changes and we will have to be able to adjust accordingly.  Everyone is teamed up and you are expected to keep focused on both your objective and your partner’s safety as a priority.  The Aurors will go in first, and we will be taking down any warding or defensive magic we find to prevent entry.  However the danger will still be high as individual areas may be boobytrapped, all caution must be taken until each room or area is cleared.  Only Aurors can declare a room cleared, once cleared an Auror team will remain in the remain for safety until the operation is completed.”

Harry surveyed the assembled witches and wizards in their varied uniforms soberly. “This raid is the culmination of almost a year’s work for some of us, let’s make sure there are no mistakes. Be ready.”

With that, some occupants of the room gathered their belongings and paperwork rapidly rushing off to take care of last-minute priorities.  Others started low-voiced conversations about the upcoming raid. Harry walked over to Hermione who had not yet moved, her knuckles white around the stack of papers in her lap. “You okay?”

“They always pop up when you least expect them. I know I shouldn’t get upset by it any longer, how they can be so callous towards people who they think are less, but after everything, it still shocks me.” Hermione said quietly her gaze on the floor.

Harry knew she was talking about Clarke.  The war had been won years ago, but bigotry was not so easily stamped out of magical society. “I’ll take care of him, don’t worry. Attitudes like that don’t belong here.”

“What doesn’t belong here?” Ron asked coming up beside them.

“Idiots like Clarke,” Harry said.

Ron frowned scratching the stumble on his chin.  He was glad Harry had kicked Clarke out so quickly.  He was usually asleep right now and his reaction time was a bit slower than normal.  He was going to take a pepper-up potion before they left for the raid to make sure he was at maximum alertness.  “I’m glad he said something, at least we know now rather than him interacting with any victims with that attitude.”

Hermione gave a small humorless laugh.  “Yes, I’m grateful he’s a dumb bigot.  It’s the smart ones that are harder to root out.”

Harry’s hand slid from her shoulder to brace against her back and Hermione glanced up at him from under her lashes to find him watching her.

“We’ll get them.” He promised her quietly.

Hermione’s heart skipped at the look in his eyes. Had he always looked at her like that? After his confession, every touch from Harry had taken on another meaning. Each glance layered with the depth of his emotion.  She had always taken his protectiveness for granted as Harry being Harry.

But now she knew.  He loved her.

Harry’s warm hand slid against her back in a circle and she sprang out of the chair giving herself a mental shake. This was not the time for personal things to intrude. These victims needed her full attention.  “I’m going to go over the reports again before it's time to go.”

“I’ll go with you— “ Harry began but she cut him off.

“No, it’s okay I just need to review them by myself again.”

Ron completely missed the undertone of the glances between them and clapped Harry on the back. “You know Hermione likes her quiet study time.  C’mon mate, let’s go find me a pepper up.”

“Fine, let’s go finish dealing with Clarke first,” Harry muttered.

Ron cracked his knuckles. “Ah, that will wake me up, let’s go!”

Before they left Harry glanced back at her and Hermione read the message loud and clear.

Twenty-eight days left.

 

 

---

 

 

About forty agents from different agencies surrounded the dark property.  It was the night of the new moon so the sky was black except for the faint twinkle of stars.  A chill breeze blew, and Hermione shivered thinking she could smell the rot of dark magic.

The wards on the property made it look like an abandoned cottage with busted-out windows.  Harry stood near the front entrance in the exact center point of twenty Aurors all of whom were carrying stones to allow them to rapidly break the protection ward, and reform it to Magical Law Enforcement specifications.  The MLE wards wouldn’t allow any unregistered magical person through and would prevent apparitions from inside the structure.  Trackers were also enabled just in case the occupants had any portkeys.

Harry held his wand aloft almost as if he was about to conduct a symphony before bringing it down sharply.  In perfect synchronization, the agents quietly blasted holes into the ground and placed the stones in the earth. Metallic blue magic flowed from Harry rapidly, touching each of the stones surrounding the cottage until the magic formed a full circle.

Once the circle was complete the magic climbed into the air, flaring higher and higher until it resembled a wall before abruptly fading into nothing. Harry’s left hand came up signaling to approach the cottage as the MLE wards were in place. As they stepped inside the new ward lines, the actual size and state of the structure became clear to everyone and it was no broken cottage.

The building in front of them was an impressive five-story brick structure that did not match the schematics they had obtained on the original building.  Hermione moved behind Harry and Ron who led the Aurors into the building.

The air inside the building was very still like the building itself was holding its breath. There was no sound or movement that she could hear but Hermione’s magic jangled in warning.  Belby was definitely in this building.  She sucked in a slow breath trying to keep her heartbeat even.  Harry’s face was completely impassive as he cleared the entry room.

Ron’s eyes darted around to each darkened corner, shooting dim visibility spells and trying to find any hidden traps. In the corner of the room, there was a stairwell and Harry approached it cautiously, his wand out defensively.

The Auror team spread out behind him, clearing the ground floor. It was empty.  After several tense minutes, one of the Aurors went to Harry and whispered something into his ear where he stood by the stairwell.  Harry nodded before turning to speak to the group in a low voice. “First floor clear.  We’re going to have to split up, half down, and half up.”

“I’ll head with the team going down,” Hermione said.

Harry shook his head. “It might be better for you to coordinate here on the ground floor since we don’t know where the victims may be located.”

“We have a team designated for coordination,” Hermione advised with a movement of her chin towards two older men standing in the corner.

“Fine.” Harry gestured to Ron. “You and Auror Walker take point on clearing upstairs.  No heroics.  If you encounter resistance, pause regroup, and take them down safely.”

“Got it, mum,” Ron said cheekily his blue eyes bright, and nodded at Walker to start up the stairs. Harry glanced at Hermione and rolled his eyes.

Two Aurors stayed back along with Hermione’s team on the ground floor as the rest departed. Harry descended the stairs with Hermione and the rest of the raid team at his back.  He didn’t know what it was about people practicing dark magic but they tended to go for lower ground when available. He was sure Hermione had in mind their own experience with the dungeons in Malfoy Manor when she pushed to be part of the team going below.

As soon as Harry’s foot hit the basement floor,  a silencing charm broke and screams filled the air. Harry’s wand slashed forward with a shield spell as they spread out into the large dungeon room.

The dungeon was much larger than the ground floor, with a high ceiling and boxes stacked in random areas that obscured the far wall completely. The east and west walls were lined with cages stacked upon cages with women in them and as soon as they saw Harry the screaming increased.  Their hands reached out from the bars trying to grasp at his cloak as they made their way cautiously forward with wands outstretched.

“Oh my god,” Hermione said in a shaken voice behind him, barely audible over the screams.

Two bright red spells rushed from the other side of the basement toward them and Harry cast a stronger shield charm, that absorbed them easily.  He rushed forward along with the rest of the Aurors and ICW, trusting Hermione with the Unspeakables and healers to take care of the victims.  He had to take care of the mercenaries and help the ICW agents locate Belby if possible.

Hermione stayed back as the battle raged on the far side of the dungeon. Hermione, her partner and each of the agents picked out a victim to help. The woman in front of her wasn’t screaming like the rest and just stared at Hermione with dull black eyes, her hair wild and matted with something dark. There were cuts on the woman’s face that looked like they hadn’t been treated.  She approached the woman cautiously, seeing the healer behind her out of the corner of her eye.

“My name is Hermione Granger, I’m here to help you.” She told the woman over the screams.  The woman’s eyes darted around trying to watch everything happening in the dungeon.  The sound of the spells made her flinch each time.  Hermione palmed her wand as she prepared to open up the cage.  She didn’t want to traumatize the woman with a stunning jinx unless necessary.

Slowly she unlatched the lock keeping it closed and swinging it open. “Can you talk? I have people here who are going to help.” She stretched out her free hand, trying to urge the woman to come out.  Hermione watched her closely, the way the woman eyed her wand made her think she was a muggle.

The woman cringed away from her as she slithered out of the cage before backing further away from Hermione. “Can you tell me your name? We have healers here to—“

A piercing scream rang out on the far end. “The medicine! The medicine! The medicine!”

The women who had been freed reacted instantly turning away and trying to run toward the stairs. “Wait!” Hermione raised her wand to stun the woman but she was jumped from behind.

“Hermione!”

The screams blended as Hermione tried to bring up her wand to point behind her. “Stupefy!” The word echoed as it hit the person on her back, blasting them off her, and Hermione realized she and Harry had cast at the same time.

“Rory!”

The woman Hermione had freed ran back toward her, her teeth clenched and rage glittering in her eyes, Hermione’s wand shot up as she held out her hand trying to calm the woman down. “Wait! Wait! Stop!”

“Stupefy!” Harry roared from behind her, and she heard his steps approaching but the woman dodged and she leaped at Hermione.  She smashed something into Hermione’s face with stunning force.  A sour taste spread in her mouth, the liquid felt like it was making her tongue shrivel.

“Wait! Harry! Wait! Just a bloody second!” Hermione choked coughing as dark liquid streamed down her face. It went into the cuts, into the corners of her eyes. She could feel how angry Harry was without even seeing him. “We’re not going to hurt anyone!”

“Liar!” The woman raged scratching at her as Hermione tried to catch her wrists, then Harry was there a fire in his eyes.

“Stupefy!” The woman collapsed on her and Harry shoved her to the side.

“Harry be careful— “Hermione broke off coughing as the sour taste in her mouth spread, glancing around to see most of the women had been knocked out and were being monitored by the healers.

Harry took the edge of his Auror cloak wiping off her face carefully as he saw the cuts left by the attack. “We need a healer over here!”

“I’m fine it’s just a few cuts, we have to— “ Hermione tried to keep speaking but her throat closed and she choked.

“Hermione? Hermione!”

The last thing she saw was Harry’s panicked green eyes.

 

 

Notes:

Wanders around with half-edited chapters. ❤️ (The smut is coming ya'll jeez. Some people seemed to get testy at being denied on the first chapter. *looks at plotting* It starts up in the fourth chapter you addicts, I'm trying to do porn WITH plot here.)

༓ ∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘ ༓
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Chapter 3: The Executor

Summary:

The aftermath of the poisoning.

The Aftermath

 

The brush flew past Harry’s head with a snarl from Hermione. The bedroom in Grimmauld was a mess; a chair was overturned, and bedding was everywhere.

“I don’t care what you throw, you need to eat.” The plate that Hermione had tried to throw first floated in the air above them, untouched despite Harry’s best efforts.

Hermione’s chin tilted up in a stubbornly familiar angle and she crossed her arms over her naked chest. She didn’t have any embarrassment standing before him naked, not that she should, by any measure.  But Harry knew without the potion, she wouldn’t have been acting like this.

Going to her, he pulled at her arms, uncrossing them and cuddling her, his head bending to the curve of her neck. “If you eat, I’ll eat you.”

Hermione made a purring sound at his words, her hands reaching for him and sliding up his chest. She cradled his face as she went on tiptoes to kiss him.  Her lips were soft against his, and her tongue stroked along his lips, slowly asking him to open for her.

Fuck she was so irristible. He was addicted to the taste of her.  Then her hands slid downward, grasping his cock and that was it. His determination to make her eat went up in smoke.

The next thing Harry knew, he was on his back and she was riding him, her hips grinding down on him. Her pussy squeezing him with each movement.

“Goddammit.” He gritted out as his hands grasped her hips.  He lost control of the fucking plate of food and it crashed to the floor on the other side of the room from them.

He said her name over and over again.  Hermione . It was a plea.  Hermione . It was a curse.  Hermione .

She was everything all at once to him. She was panting, her movements growing more and more wild as he helped her keep rhythm on top of him. Then her soft pink nipples tightened, darkening to a dusky rose, and her nails dug into his shoulders as her orgasm approached.

She moaned and squeezed and his cock jerked inside her.  The orgasm rolled through him in waves, lasting so long it was almost painful as he filled her.

Afterwards, she lay next to him, her arm across his chest, and he brought his arm over his face as he muttered to the love of his life. “You need to fucking eat and not just fuck me.”

                                                                             

---

                      

Irony is realizing I’d kill someone just to hear her talk to me about her books.

                               

---

                                                                    

The Present

Harry remained still and tense as Ron paced back and forth in front of him in the hospital corridor.  The smell of antiseptic and the faint ozone of too many scourgifies lingered in the air. Harry didn’t like hospitals — muggle or magical. An ominous despair always seemed to cling to the air.

He and Ron were still in their Auror uniforms, the black cloaks wrinkled and showing the damage from the fight.  Ron’s team on the second level had encountered mercenaries and found more deceased victims in various stages of dissection. Ron’s red hair stuck straight up as if he had been electrocuted, while Harry’s own was likely a mussed mess. Dark circles were under both their eyes as they had been awake almost forty-eight hours straight, having gone from the disastrous mission straight to St Mungo’s, then back to the ministry for debriefing, before back again to St Mungo’s and Hermione.

The healers had taken Hermione away and hadn’t provided any updates since she had disappeared from their sight. Ron was handling the stress poorly, his agitation palpable while Harry waited quietly in dread.

The feeling that twisted Harry’s insides was hatefully familiar and one he had thought never to experience again.  Why was it always Hermione that something happened to? He clenched his jaw, working on keeping a lid on all the emotions boiling inside him.

“I don’t understand how this happened!” Ron turned and punched the grey concrete wall before rounding aggressively on Harry. “You were there with her— what were you doing?”

Harry restrained a flinch at the underlying accusation in Ron’s voice.  The lid he had on his control wobbled, and his jaw tightened as he restrained himself from engaging in a fight with Ron. “I was doing what I was supposed to be doing - taking care of Belby’s protection detail.”

“But—“

Ron was interrupted by a healer with a clipboard. “Excuse me, Auror Potter?”

“How is she?” Ron demanded turning to the woman.

The healer looked at the two rumpled men in Auror robes.  She recognized Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley— who wouldn’t? They, along with her patient Hermione Granger, had made the papers repeatedly.  She also knew neither man was Miss Granger’s blood relative. “Does Miss Granger have any family available to speak with?”

“We’re her family,” Harry advised.

The healer looked down at her clipboard, which had Miss Granger’s patient forms.  Her file had Harry Potter’s name listed as her emergency contact. “I see Miss Granger has you listed, Auror Potter, as her medical contact for emergencies— “

“Harry?” Ron looked confused for a moment before his face cleared. “That was just temporary, she had to come in for an evaluation, and I was out of the country —“

“Ron.” Harry cut him off and braced his shoulder as Ron kept rambling, his eyes wild. “Let her speak, okay?”

The healer gave them both a sympathetic look, reading their frantic concern, before glancing back down at her clipboard to organize her thoughts. “My name is Healer Angela Hall.  We’ve been running some tests on Miss Granger while we’ve had her sedated, and the results are not like anything anyone on staff has ever seen. We’re contacting some potion specialists, but that could take time that Miss Granger doesn’t have. We’ve seen some deterioration in her vital signs already, and after discussion, we’ve come to ask if there’s any information you can share regarding the potion she was dosed with.”

“We don’t know much ourselves other than it was a fertility potion — we know how we can get more information, though.” Harry glanced at Ron. “We need to go in and speak to Belby.”

Healer Hall nodded. “Anything regarding ingredients, brewing method, and perhaps if anyone else has taken this potion would be extremely helpful.” Healer Hall scratched the information down on the clipboard with a nod.  “I’ll let my team know about the potion being aimed at increasing fertility, that might help us alleviate some of the symptoms, but still doesn’t quite explain all the symptoms she’s exhibiting. Please let me know as soon as possible, gentlemen.”

With that, they said their goodbyes, and the healer hurried off, staring down at her clipboard and muttering to herself. Ron stared after her a moment before turning to Harry.

“Why are you still her emergency contact? Why didn’t she change it back to me?”

“Not the important thing right now, mate,” Harry said, turning to walk away. He was going to get the information from Belby, and nothing was going to get in the way of that.

                                                                                                   

---

 

The master potioneer, Calix Belby, sat with his hands folded neatly under Harry and Ron’s angry, watchful gaze in the interrogation room of the Auror division of the Ministry.  Calix Belby, unlike his cousin Marcus Belby, was a slight man.  He was barely over five feet, and his closely cropped hair emphasized his diminutive stature.  The overall effect made him look young and harmless.

Nervously, Belby ran a hand over his short strands, offering an explanation of the haircut to Ron and Harry sheepishly. “The potion fumes you know – hair issues are a common problem amongst those in my line of work.  It is a perpetual fight to keep one’s hair clean and not greasy. I found it easier to just cut my hair very short and have done with it.”

Ron glanced at Harry with wide eyes. His thoughts were transparent. Can you believe this fucking git? Is he fucking serious?

Harry grimaced torn between the need to beat the shit out of the little man and get his arse back to St. Mungos where Hermione’s condition was growing desperate. “You understand you’re going to Azkaban for a long time, don’t you, Mr. Belby?”

“But why?” Belby looked bewildered.

Ron unable to take the man’s idiocy any longer with worry over Hermione driving him mad, “Because you fucking murdered pregnant women! Because you cut apart sentient magical species—”

Belby looked even more confused by Ron’s screaming. “They weren’t one of us, though. I mean, it’s not like I harmed a real person. They’re just other—”

Harry’s fist slammed down on the table, making it crack with an audible thud. “You want to stop speaking. Right now.” Belby stopped eyeing the two of them like they were the crazy ones. “We have some questions, and you will answer them honestly and succinctly. Is that clear?”

“Why yes, sir.” Belby nodded hesitantly, looking at the two intimidating Aurors who looked like they had just come from a magical duel. He thought there might be dried blood on both.

Harry placed a cracked vial on the desk between them.  The label was scuffed, but the numbers were still legible, scrawled across it. “What is this?”

Belby reached out hesitantly as if they would smack him if he got too close. (Not an entirely wrong fear.) Carefully, he peered down at the vial, murmuring the numbers to himself. “Oh, this potion was one of the earlier trials. Not very successful.  I used only muggles for this attempt, as it was very preliminary. Muggles have a very similar physiology to us, although of course we are superior and they all died quite quickly.”

Ron made a choking sound and spun around while Harry stared down at the little man. “Did any of them survive? How did you purge it from their system?”

Belby steepled his fingers. “Well, I’m a fertility specialist as you know. The purpose of the experiments was to increase fertility and guarantee conception for our society. In that particular strain, I had amplified the succubae strain too much. The muggles were—” he paused and giggled to himself. “— literally dying to fuck.”

“Cruc—” Harry spun and slammed Ron into the wall before he could finish the curse.

“No.” He said to Ron too quietly for Belby to hear. “We need to figure out how to help Hermione first, if you can’t control your fucking temper you need to get out of here.”

“That fucker! That—” Ron was completely beside himself, writhing in Harry’s hold to get at Belby.

Harry hauled Ron back by the lapel of his Auror robe and opened the door to the interrogation room, shoving him out and ignoring his protests. Then he spun around to the mental dark wizard in magical suppression cuffs.

“One of our number was dosed with this potion. How do we fix it?”

“Oh.” Belby scratched his head. “Each sequence was complementary — a his and hers. The mortality rate for the female dose was mirrored in the male dose, except theirs was almost immediately fatal, while the female dose was only if she wasn’t serviced properly, if you get my meaning.”

“Why would the doses have to be paired—”

“Well, that’s the point, isn’t it? To ensure conception.  I don’t know if you are aware of the torment faced by so many pureblood couples who face struggles conceiving. It’s absolutely heartbreaking, and the issue is not just a matter of male fertility— it’s almost always issues with both the female and male.”

Harry thought listening to this man might drive him insane. Graphic images of slamming the man’s head into the table flashed in his mind, and he struggled to keep hold of his temper.  Hermione needed the information Belby had. “A female agent was dosed. How do we save her?”

Belby frowned thoughtfully.  “You would have to do some blood testing to confirm what male subjects could take the complimentary potion without immediately dying.  After that, it’s a matter of servicing her often enough to keep her alive.  The problem with this trial, aside from the male mortality, was that when I added the succubae strain to the female potion, it was meant to make conception easier. Instead, the proportions were too strong and the female recipients began to display other problematic traits of the succubae — namely, taking sustenance from the male partner through magic.”

Belby paused, tapping his lip thoughtfully, all of his focus inward on the thought of the failed trial.  He hadn’t tried the potion on any of the Muggleborn since it had been so lethal to the Muggles.  “The problem is that this trial of the potion never made it past testing on Muggles.  The Muggles, of course, couldn’t get the sustenance they needed from the males, as neither partner had sufficient magic to sustain them. Despite the fact of being non-magical, they still needed magic to feed…” Belby spread his hands and shrugged. “Perhaps I should have tested it on the muggleborn subjects, but I had far fewer of those than muggles. Be sure to let me know if she survives.”

When no answer was forthcoming from across the table, Belby finally looked up and flinched at the sight that met him.  Harry Potter had his hand clenched around his wand, pointing at him, his face dark with anger.

“I. Want. A. Fucking. Cure.” Harry enunciated slowly, his hands white with the strain of not ripping Belby into pieces.

Belby stuttered in fright, his eyes wide as he recalled the stories and pictures of Potter dueling Voldemort. “It’s just—it’s not possible.  There is no cure.  Even if I started researching a reversal, she has days left— perhaps a week at most before her magic starts failing.  Not nearly enough time to experiment and find a cure.  No, she needs to be bound to a male and to conceive—”

“That’s out of the question.”

“Then she’s going to die.”

The memory of Hermione smiling brightly at him as she twirled in her new Unspeakable robes in front of him flashed in Harry’s mind.  She had been so excited at finally finding what she wanted to do with her life.

Hermione could have taken Belby and hung him upside down with one hand tied behind her back. The room around Harry darkened until all he could see was the small wizard in front of him, sweat dripping down Belby’s neck as he stared back at Harry like he was a nightmare.

All of his muscles were tight with the control he exerted over himself.  He wasn’t doing this in a blind rage, and he wanted Belby to understand the cold finality of what was going to happen to him if Hermione didn’t survive.

Harry slipped his wand back into his wand holster on his forearm, pushing it so the spring caught.  A twist of his wrist would put it back in his hand in an instant.  Then he leaned over, wrapping one hand around Belby’s neck and squeezing as he pulled the man toward him.

Belby’s yelp was choked off quickly as Harry dragged him over the table until their faces were millimeters apart. “You are going to do everything you can to help the doctors cure her, and if she dies, you will pray for dementors before I’m through with you.”

Belby’s eyes were wide, and his face turned purple as Harry stared into his frightened face. His hands came up to tug on Harry’s wrists, but he kept him there watching as his eyes watered and started to roll back in his head.

The door behind him burst open, and Head Auror Robards rushed in. “Potter! Potter, for fucksake, put him down! Put him down!”

Harry dropped Belby before turning around and walking out of the room. Robards was saying something to him, but he couldn’t understand it. He was too occupied with the insanity of the situation.

Ron rushed up to him, his face red with anger. “What the fuck! You threw me out — Did he? What happened? What did he say?”

Harry looked at him and shook his head.  They needed to return to the hospital and speak with the healers.

                                                                                                    

---

 

 

Several hours later, Ron and Harry were led into a large conference room.  The lights were bright, making them both wince as they had been too long without sleep. Four people were in healer's garb, while two others on the left side were dressed in black robes, resembling barristers. The healers stood gesturing for them to sit across from them.  Papers and diagrams were spread out in front of the Healers.

The healer they had spoken to the first time, Angela Hall, greeted them.  “I’m sorry we’ve kept you waiting, but due to the information and Miss Granger’s condition, we had to make sure we had all the information necessary to answer your questions.  Let me introduce our team handling Miss Granger’s care— Healer John Burnham, who specializes in emergency care. Healer Mary Ivy specializes in reproductive care.  Healer Marcus Brown handles patients with magical creature inheritance or infection. And —“ Healer Hall paused, looking down at the two men dressed in black robes.

They both had a similar look, older, lined faces with salt and pepper hair. The man on the far side cleared his throat, shuffling some paperwork in front of him.  “My name is Michael Delany, and this is Christopher Haddon.  We represent St Mungo’s legal interests in this matter— “

“What the fuck legal interests?” Ron asked aggressively.  His eyes were impressively bloodshot, lack of sleep and several pepper-up potions had done nothing for his already short temper.

Mr. Delany looked over at Harry, who hadn’t spoken yet. “We verified that there are no blood relatives available to make medical decisions for Miss Granger.”

“That’s what we bloody said— “ Ron grasped the edge of the table with white knuckles.

Delany continued as if Ron hadn’t spoken.  “We pulled all her medical records and inquired what legal filings she had in case of death with the Unspeakables— “

Harry’s insides shook at what Delay’s sentence might be leading to— they had been assured over and over again that Hermione was alive, that she was stable.  Even Ron, who had been about to interrupt again, froze with his mouth open, staring at the man.

In case of death.

Noticing their whitened expressions, Delany hurried on with his explanation. “The issue is that the Hospital cannot make decisions for Miss Granger, and we reviewed the documents to determine who she designated to be her executor as— “

“We’re in a relationship— “ Ron began, causing Harry to glance at him sharply.

“Which was Mr. Potter. As her legal paperwork filed with the Ministry designates Mr. Potter as her executor, and she listed Mr. Potter as her contact with St Mungos, we consider Mr. Potter to be in charge of her care.” Delany finished speaking over Ron.

“What?” Harry questioned at the same time as Ron, neither man anticipating the information. Hermione had just broken up with Ron— why would her paperwork already have Harry’s name? Ron and Hermione had already been together for several years before she joined the Department of Mysteries.

Delany met Harry’s eyes squarely, ignoring Ron again. “Due to the exigent circumstance, St Mungos will defer to your decisions for Miss Granger’s care.  Do you permit the healing team to release the medical information in front of Mr. Weasley, or would you prefer to have him escorted out?”

“Fuck you!” Ron shouted at the man, jumping to his feet.

Harry grabbed Ron’s elbow, pulling him back down to his chair.  “Get a hold of yourself and shut up so they can tell us what’s going on!”

Ron gripped the sides of the chair as if forcibly keeping himself from springing back up and nodded jerkily, not looking at Harry.

Harry turned to the healers, “Please, yes, just tell us what you’ve found.”

Healer Hall cleared her throat and laced her fingers together.  “We’ve tried several purging and cleansing droughts, some of the more powerful purges require rituals performed by magical blood relations, which is not possible in Miss Granger’s case. We reviewed the information provided by Calix Belby and his records. We currently have a request under review to speak to him personally; however, it is the present determination of this team that Miss Granger will not survive long enough for us to find a cure.”

Harry heard the words but refused to consider the possibility of Hermione not surviving.  Whatever he had to do, she was going to make it through this. “What is the plan then to keep her alive?”

“We’ve drawn up a plan for palliative care to try to maintain her vitals until a breakthrough is made or potentially the potion’s effect is exhausted.” At this, the Healer grimaced. “We don’t have any idea of how long the potion may last because all the subjects passed away from the side effects.”

“What’s palliative care?” Ron asked, his gaze darting between the healers.

At that question, the healer who had specialized in reproductive care, Mary Ivy, answered,” From the notes Miss Granger’s failing vitals are because the potion is causing her to need an exchange of magic during intercourse. Succubae gain sustenance from this act.  Miss Granger seems to need this due to the potion.”

“I’m her boyfriend, of course, if she needs inter— uh — you know—“ Ron stumbled, his cheeks heating as the healers looked at him.

“You’re not her boyfriend,” Harry said quietly to his side.

“Harry— “ Ron’s head snapped to face him, finding Harry’s gaze on him.

“You’re not.”

“It doesn’t matter— “

“Gentlemen.” Healer Ivy cut in sharply. “I wasn’t finished.”

They didn’t look away from each other but fell silent, and after a moment, Healer Ivy continued.

“Magical beings react differently to bonds.  Succubae have developed temporary bonds that only last during the relationship and are easily discarded.  We. Do. Not.”

Healer Ivy eyed both men seriously, trying to emphasize the gravity of what it would take to keep Miss Granger alive. “There is a strong possibility that whoever creates the connection with Miss Granger will be bound to her permanently.  At this point, we don’t have enough information to speculate on the nature of the bond that might be created.”

Ron paled at that information while Harry sat with a resolute expression on his face.

“She’s my— I’ll do it.” Ron stumbled.

“No, you won’t.” Harry looked at Ron and shook his head. “I will.”

“What are you even saying? You don’t love her like that, I did— do.”

Harry looked at all the other witches and wizards in the room trying to pretend not to hear their loud conversation and said again more firmly.  “I will do whatever is necessary for Hermione to live until we can find a cure. What is next?”

“Yes, well Mr. Potter— “

“No, no Harry I’m not letting you do this — Hermione and me we were taking a break but that’s obviously the past now. I—“

Impatiently, Harry turned back to Ron, “No, you are not together — “

“Think about what Hermione would want! Obviously she would want to be bonded with me - we don’t even know if these bonds would break eventually or not— “

“Hermione would want me.”

The silence was so loud, Harry thought he had perhaps lost his hearing until Ron’s voice sliced through it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Gentlemen—“ Healer Hall began.

“Harry, she sees you as a brother — that would be disgusting to her." Ron didn’t even look at Hall.

“She doesn’t see me as her fucking brother.” Harry was never going to live one tiny fucking sentence down when he said it because Ron had been nearly green with jealousy at the time in the middle of the fucking war.

Harry wasn’t even sure how to describe his and Hermione’s relationship - it was barely beginning, and now some psychotic potioneer had derailed it. He wouldn’t let her go, though, no matter what, not now.

He looked at the healers in the room, ignoring Ron’s spluttering. “Tell me how to help her.

 

 

Notes:

Hey everyone, its been awhile. I'm going to start updating again. Yay if you've kinda stuck with me on this hiatus. Should be posting another update tomorrow for Remedy.

I have a snippet of the chapter coming tomorrow here, if you want a sneak peek. 

Chapter 4: Let Her Choose

Summary:

Hermione wakes up from her coma

The Aftermath

 

Music was playing in the room, and Hermione was swaying slightly to the beat in the bedroom at Grimmauld.  Today had been a good day where Hermione ate without a fight, and when he went out, the reporters must have been tired of stalking him.

Her hips rolled to the beat, and her arms raised in the air as she danced.  Harry could feel the pull of the bond between them, heightening the feel of every brush of air against his skin.

Sometimes he thought the pull of the bond was settling; that it wasn’t as intense, but it was moments like this, watching her, that he realized he was fooling himself. The need that flared between them wanted to suck his soul out of his body until he was on her, over her, in her.

She was silent, but he was still trapped with her. Hermione turned, looking at him, and moved slowly toward him until she was grinding against him, her leg lifting to curl around his hips.

“I love you.” It didn’t even hurt anymore when she didn’t say it back, or maybe it blended in with the dull ache that always stayed with him now.

The music changed the beat, moving faster, and Hermione changed with it, her nails suddenly digging harder into his shoulders with more intent as she stood on tiptoes to get closer to him. He grabbed her under her ass, pulling her up against him as she continued to grind on his cock. He walked towards his bed, not lifting his lips from hers.

When he leaned over to settle her under him, she scrambled under him, twisting so her back was to his chest. “You want it like this?” He covered her, spreading her legs on the outside of his, and slowly pushed his cock inside her. Her back moved lower as her ass pushed back against him. “Fuck you feel so good.”

He crossed his arms under her breasts, holding her shoulders as he started to fuck her, holding her still under him, enjoying the difference in their sizes.  “Hermione.” She moaned in response, her hands clutching at his forearms. The slap of their flesh together echoed his heartbeat.

Again and again, faster and faster.  A connection they both couldn’t live without.  Harry pushed his face against the curve of her neck as he felt his orgasm approaching, his arms moving to caress her lower.

“Who’s my good girl?”

She purred for him, and he felt her tightening.  Her hips moved in jerky, desperate thrusts back against him.

He knew what she wanted.

Harry pulled back, holding her hips as he thrust harder against her.  “Come for me, baby.”

Hermione screamed as she fell apart under him.

 

 

---

 

The Present 

 

Ron had been eerily silent since the meeting with the doctors, and Harry wasn’t about to say something that might change that.  He knew well enough that Ron’s powder keg temper was just waiting for the match to set it off.

They walked swiftly to the waiting room, where they had been informed that visitors were waiting. When they arrived, the room was filled with redheads, plus Luna, Neville, Angela Johnson, and various others from their school days.

Molly Weasley rushed to them, clucking her tongue as she pulled them both into a tight embrace, ignoring their stiffness and expressions. She knew both boys were worried about Hermione.  “I remember when I could hug both of you easily.” She muttered, squeezing them hard again before letting them go to face them. “How’s Hermione?”

Ron shot a glare his way, and Harry braced himself. Offering only, “They aren’t sure how to handle the potion she got dosed with.”

“And they put Harry in charge of her care.” Ron’s anger was unmistakable.

Molly and Arthur, who hadn’t even known yet of the breakup between Ron and Hermione, looked confused. Molly turned to Harry, asking gently. “Harry dear, since Ron is Hermione’s boyfriend, shouldn’t he be the one—“

“He’s not, though,” Harry told Molly firmly, trying to ignore the awkwardness of the silence of the rest of them watching. “And Hermione put my name on her paperwork so—“

“I wonder why she did that.” The voice was quieter, but in the silence of the group, it landed loudly, and George and Neville shifted, revealing Ginny towards the back of the group. “Especially since she and Ron have been together so long.”

Harry met the neutral gaze of his ex.  Ginny, more than anyone, probably in the room, knew how he felt about Hermione.  He had been honest with her when he had recognized his feelings for what they were, and she had seen his changed Patronus.

“Ron and Hermione aren’t together; they broke up over a month ago,” Harry repeated, not looking away from Ginny.

“Oh.” Arthur Weasley said, a little lost at the revelation. It made him a little sad that neither relationship had worked out for his children, as he would have loved having Harry and Hermione officially as part of their family.

“Well— “ George said awkwardly in the silence that followed again with forced normalness. “It doesn’t matter much, right? We all want what’s best for Hermione…”

“Harry wants to have sex with her while she’s sick,” Ron said loudly, his face red and nostrils flared. “She can’t even make the choice, and he’s — “

“That’s not at all what’s happening and you know it!” Harry said harshly, feeling the gazes of the people he was closest to on him.

“Harry would never hurt Hermione,” Luna spoke from next to Neville, her conviction absolute. “He loves her.”

“He does. That’s why we broke up.” Ginny revealed to the group.

“But— but you broke up — “ Ron stuttered, processing the information his sister had just revealed.  Harry had been in love with his girlfriend for how long?  Ginny and Harry had broken up years ago!

“Well, I’m sure he cares for her like a sister — “ Molly began, not understanding what was going on with the children, but sure it could be solved with calm conversation.

“He wants to have sex with her, Mum.” Ron cut off a shocked Molly.

“Do not cut me off, Ronald Weasley.  I know you’re upset, but I am your mother, and you will speak to me with respect.  Now, I’m sure you’ve misunderstood the situation.” Molly turned to Harry. “Harry, what is going on?”

The explanation that followed had to be one of the most awkward in Harry’s entire life.  He quite thought he’d rather face Voldemort again than explain to a group of people that included a man and woman who had treated him like a son that, according to the medical professionals, he was going to bond with Hermione and yes, have sex with her.

“But Hermione has been with Ron forever, doesn’t it seem like you should step back, mate?” George said hesitantly, his arm around Angelina, who nodded in agreement.

“I’m sorry, Harry, but you have to think of what Hermione would have wanted.”  Angelina backed up her boyfriend, George.

Harry’s jaw tightened. “Hermione and I were already starting something together.”

“How come none of us knew about it?” Ron asked quickly.

“How come no one else knew you broke up?” Ron didn’t respond, and Harry continued. “Exactly, it was private between her and me.”

“What it sounds like is you’ve wanted her for years, and now you’re taking advantage of the situation. Is she even awake to say something?” Ginny asked.

Neville, seeing how the group was starting to split in two with Harry on one side and everyone else on the other, went to stand by him. “I don’t get what’s happening here, but we know Harry.” He looked at the Weasleys, the majority of whom looked uneasy.  The exceptions, Ron and Ginny, just looked angry. “Luna is right.  Harry wouldn’t take advantage of Hermione, and if he believes this is how she would have wanted it, then I believe him.” Luna silently took a place on Harry’s other side.

“Well, this is all fine, but it should be Hermione’s choice, not you two.” Angelina finally said, and the Weasleys, except for Ron and Ginny, nodded. “Did you ask the healers if she can speak or say what she wants?”

“Right now, her magic is failing, and to keep her stable, they have her in a magically induced coma,” Harry said.

“Okay.  Well, did you ask if they could bring her out of it?” Angelina pressed.

“No, he didn’t,” Ron answered.

“You were there too, you heard what they said about what will happen when she wakes up.” Harry snapped at him.

“Yeah, and you wanted to kick me out so I wouldn’t hear it.  Harry can decide to cut us all off from Hermione if he chooses.” Ron told his family.

Harry shook his head.  “That didn’t happen, the doctors offered me the option and I declined, and you know it.”

“Yeah, but you could cut us off because you’re the only one who can make decisions.  It shouldn’t be you, it should be me or even my parents.” Ron said in a reasonable tone.

“Well— “ Arthur began.

“No. Hermione put me in charge and I— “

“That sounds really fucking self-serving, Harry,” George said, anger beginning to darken his face.

Harry could feel the words land like a bombarda against his skin, goosebumps spread down his flesh, and his magic flared outward angrily.  The waiting room around them seemed to expand and contract, and everyone caught their breath at the display of power. Then the waiting room chairs began to crumble one by one, punctuating each word as Harry began to speak in a low, vicious tone of voice. “Self-serving? The woman I love is fucking in a coma and needs me, and I’m going to do whatever is necessary to save her.  Do you fucking think I wanted it like this? That this makes me fucking happy?”

“Harry.” Luna laid a gentle hand on his arm, but he shook her off and stomped off towards the healers, leaving the Weasleys speechless.

                    

---

                                                                               

Self-serving. Fucking self-serving. Self-serving.

The words repeated over and over again in Harry’s head as he tried to get a hold of his temper.  He couldn’t remember when he had been as angry as he was now.  The woman he loved was facing a death sentence, and the people he was closest to thought he was fucking being self-serving, trying to save her life? Not letting her get bound with someone she had left?

And deeper inside.  So deep, Harry could barely bring himself to acknowledge it was the fear permeating him.  What if it wasn’t what she wanted? What if they cured her, and Hermione didn’t forgive him for it?

If he was wrong, he stood to lose everything. He stopped, moved to the side, and leaned against the wall of the hospital. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He remembered the look in Hermione’s eyes when they had talked about starting a relationship, the way she responded to him.

She had wanted him, he was sure of it.  But that didn’t mean she wanted to be bonded to him forever, and that’s what he was risking with the choice he was making for her.

Harry sucked in a deep breath, moving away from the wall and toward finding one of the healers from the medical team.  Most of what everyone had said had been crap, but Angelina had made a point that needled at him.

How much of a risk was it to try to wake Hermione up before one of them had taken the potion? Would Hermione want to take that risk to know before it happened? Everything in Harry violently rebelled at the thought of putting Hermione any more at risk than she was but Angelina was right, Hermione would want to know. She would want to make a choice.

The doctors were uncertain as they talked to him about the possibility.

“Miss Granger is in a very delicate state right now, we barely managed to get her stable, and even now all our diagnostics point towards the levels of magic detecting her slowly depleting.  Waking her up without being prepared could cause serious complications.” Healer Hall looked towards Healer Ivy, who had more experience in the care of magical beings.

Healer Ivy nodded in agreement.  “I understand your concerns about Miss Granger, though, and I think it’s worth the risk to give her that choice.  But at the same time, we must be prepared — you must be prepared to help her immediately if her vitals start a downward spiral — and I have to warn you that’s extremely possible given her status.”

Stomping footsteps announced Ron. “What are you discussing?” Harry could see the irritation when both healers looked at him for permission before speaking.

He nodded at them and turned to Ron. “Angelina made a point when she said we should try to talk to Hermione first.” He looked towards the healers. “They said it’s risky and we need to be prepared for what might happen.” Even though he was angry, he still couldn’t quite treat Ron as meanly as he wanted to, as vicious as he still felt inside.

“I want to be there.”

Harry looked at the healers for permission, but again, they were looking at him for the final say.  He looked towards Ron, wondering what was going to happen. “Fine.”

Healer Ivy looked between the two of them, the expression on her face saying she understood far more about the dynamics of what was happening than they had told her. “Do you understand what may happen? Waking her up now… there’s a strong possibility she will need to bond almost right after because her magic will drain faster when she’s awake.”

“At least she can make her choice.” Ron’s voice was confident, and it bugged the fuck out of Harry.

Healer Hall looked between the two wizards, chewing her lip.  This entire scenario was so far out of her experience and the experience of any one staff or their consultants that they were feeling their way blindly without any guidance.  Despite her reservations about the impact on Miss Granger’s health, she did in principle agree with trying to take her out of the coma to wake her up now.  Waiting would only further degrade her health and be more risky.  She just hoped they really understood that if Miss Granger’s magic didn’t stabilize once she was awake, one of the men would have to bond with her immediately and all that entailed.

Hall was going to have to discuss with Healer Ivy how to properly prepare a room and be ready to give them immediate privacy.  With that in mind, she told the two wizards she would get everything ready and let them know when it was time.

                                                                                                    

---

 

They were given medical robes spelled to be resistant to magical maladies and promote health.  Waiting for the healers to them it was time was agonizing.  Angelina’s words kept circling his mind like vultures pecking at him over and over.

Was he doing the right thing? The conflict raged in him because of those dark thoughts, the thoughts that no one wanted to own up to kept surfacing.

He didn’t fucking care. He. Did. Not. Fucking. Care.

He had waited, he had been patient, and now it was supposed to be his and Hermione’s time. It was their fucking time, and Belby had just ripped that away from him.  He should have cast the cruciatus after they had gotten the information. But no, they still needed the bastard, didn’t they? For the far-off hope that there might be a cure for Belby’s crazed experiments.

What kind of man was he to have these thoughts? To think he wanted to bond with her? Couldn’t he admit that without being a despicable human being?

The thoughts and recriminations circled and circled until Harry wanted to drill a hole in his brain. With a deep breath, he pushed it all away, reaching for Occlumency to give him clarity.

The intrusive thoughts receded slowly as coldness enveloped him. The facts were that Hermione needed the bond, and whatever he might feel about that didn’t matter.  She needed it, and it had to be someone she loved and trusted.  She had broken up with Ron, and they had always been close and had been about to become much closer.

“Gentlemen. It’s time.”

They both tensed and rose to follow the healer.  Healer Ivy led them down a hallway lined with runes that glowed a soft white.  Harry couldn’t make out all the runes, but the ones he could he knew were used in healing rituals.  The hallway had been lined with runes to promote the healing of the patients within.  He had never seen this wing of St Mungo's before.

As if she read his mind, Healer Ivy glanced at him before explaining. “This particular wing is where we keep our highest risk cases that we don’t have clear answers on what exactly is wrong with the patients.”

They came to a sturdy wooden door with no window, and the healer hesitated. “We have the potion for the bond inside and are ready to bring her out of the coma. We strongly suspect that once that happens, she will only have a few minutes before she will need to bond.” Ivy paused. “You understand?”

Harry didn’t glance at Ron as he nodded. Fuck this felt so wrong.

Healer Ivy opened the door, and they entered a hospital room that had been reconstructed to look like a bedroom.  Hermione was lying on a large king bed while medical diagnostic spells spun above her.  There was also a thin IV line that fed a potion intravenously into her arm.

To the right of her stood Healer Hall. She had a small vial that glowed slightly, and Harry recognized the potion as similar in color to the ones they had recovered in the raid. The two women were tense as they began the slow process of awakening Hermione from the magically induced coma.

Harry jerked forward involuntarily when Hermione moaned, her body shifting slightly as she woke up. “Hermione.”

Her head turned in his direction, and her brows knitted, but her eyes remained closed. “Start talking to her, telling her what happened and what is going to happen.” Healer Ivy directed them, and Harry started first, telling Hermione when he wasn’t even sure she was awake.

“Again,” Ivy told him when he finished, and this time, Ron began, but he told Hermione how much he loved her and that he would be there for her.

Why hadn’t he said that? Like it was some fucking competition. The longer the healers tried to wake her up, the more Harry felt despair fill him.

He dropped to his knees by the bed, reaching for her hand, picking it up, and pressing a kiss to the back. “Please, please wake up.”

Hermione jolted when his lips touched her skin and moved abruptly, yanking her hand away as she flailed in the bed.

“Miss Granger! Miss Granger, wake up!” Healer Hall said more harshly than either Harry or Ron.

Finally, she opened her eyes, and her pupils were blown wide by the potion. She grimaced, staring blindly forward. “Hermione!” They said in unison, rushing forward on either side of the bed.

Harry felt her gaze like a physical touch; it was electric when she met his eyes as if something hovered in the air just waiting to strike.

Her hand rose shakily in the air toward him. “Harreh, hel mee.” And then her eyes rolled back in her head.

Healer Hall shoved the potion into Harry’s hand, and he drank it immediately, ignoring Ron’s outraged howl.

“No, she didn’t even say anything! No!” Ron fought as the healers tried to get him out of the room.

Harry turned briefly away from Hermione’s writhing body. “Incarcerous! Depulso!” Chains wrapped around Ron, and he flew backward out of the room.

Healer Ivy met his eyes and whispered to him. “I’m sorry it had to be this way.” Before she and Healer Hall ran from the room, Harry felt the locking charm engage.

Yeah, he was fucking sorry it had to be this way, too. He reached for her, and as soon as their skin touched, something sparked between them like an electric current, and Hermione’s eyes opened again.

She looked at him and licked her lips.

Notes:

I'm debating between Matched update or Meddling with Time update both are almost done and should be finished by Sunday (fingers crossed ya'll). Also I went and erased the time line on this one cause it made ya'll sad. LOL too much angst with the smut, huh? Oh but there's going to be so much more. (rubs hands together evilly) hehehehe.

Also I forgot! I'm trying to make TikToks for my fics and while I AM NOT GOOD AT ALL - its kinda fun? I may have to stick to being the woman that just likes subscribes, and reposts on tiktok lol

 

My Socials: Instagram | reddit | Facebook |TikTok

Chapter 5: The First Time With You

Summary:

LOTS OF ANGST AND SEXY TIMES 😈😈😈

Notes:

Warning again, pay attention to the tagging. There is sex in this fic without clear consent. Keep in mind your mental health, readers. 💚

 

 

Logic dictated that Harry should have had trouble just jumping into bed with a Hermione who had been insensate just a few moments ago, but logic flew out the window when she reached for him.

When their skin touched, it was like being plugged into an electric socket; he was on . Every sensation was magnified. The sharp prick of her nails into his shoulders as she pulled him close.  The softness of her lips as she kissed him.

The heat of her mouth on his was indescribable, like nothing Harry had ever felt before. Harry swallowed hard, tasting her.

Tasting Hermione Granger.

His best friend.

The love of his life.

She moaned into his mouth, and the sound vibrated through him like tuning an instrument. There was a snap of magic he felt, but didn’t know who it came from, him or her, but suddenly their clothes were gone. Harry couldn’t stop and think about it; all he knew was that he was finally against her skin-to-skin.

He wished he were softer for her; he could feel the coarseness of his chest hair against her soft breasts.  But she seemed to like it; her nipples were hard as they brushed against him while the kiss continued.

Her tongue dueled with his before drawing him into her mouth and sucking on his tongue, and the sensation went right to his cock. And he was moaning, groaning, panting for her as they moved together, trying desperately to climb into each other’s skin.

He was so fucking hungry for her.

“Hermione.” He said against her lips, and they curved up. “Hermione, I —“ he didn’t even know what to say, lying there between her legs, pressed against her.

They had skipped over every fucking thing.  No loving words, no build-up, just straight to raw, desperate hunger. “Tell me you want this.” But Hermione didn’t say a word, her gaze fixed on him, moving against him like silk.

Her hands drifted lower, trailing down his back, a light scratch that made all his muscles flex and harden.

“Hermione, please— “ it ended on a gasp as she grasped him, her fingers wrapping around his hard cock.  Her hips arched as she led him to where she wanted him with a firm grip.

His cock touched her wet pussy, and all his thoughts went south with the rest of his blood. “Fuck, Hermione, fuck!”

She purred as he entered her, keeping him close with her nails on his hips, urging him to move. She was so tight. So hot. He needed to hear her voice.

“Please, Hermione, please— “ He panted, begging for her as he began to move.  She grunted when he bottomed out, her hands on his hips replaced with her legs wrapped tightly around him, not letting him go.

Not that he’d ever leave. The room was filled with the sound of their skin meeting as he thrust into her.  He reached for her curls, threading his hands through them and bringing her face up.  Even her hair seemed to try to draw him in, the strands curling over his fingers in a tangle instantly. Her eyes caught him, though, and they stilled for a heartbeat of time, pulsing together as if their hearts were trying to beat as one.

Her beautiful brown eyes.  They were glazed with a hunger for him that seemed to overcome everything else.

‘Hermione.” Why wouldn’t she say something? His emotions were churning as he moved inside her, pleasure and angst mixing and almost choking him. He needed more from her.  He needed her understanding, her approval of what they were doing. What he  was doing, “Hermione.”

She shuddered under him and tried to pull away from his grasp of her curls so she could kiss him again, but he resisted. Harry wanted her eyes on him.

He wanted her with him in this moment, not lost to sensation.  He wanted her to watch him love her. Watch him come inside her. He felt like his heart was beating out the rhythm of her, a song their bodies were dancing to, thrust after thrust.

“Tell me you want me, Hermione, please, please, please.” The words in sync with his thrusts as he begged, feeling that cliff approaching as everything seemed to wind too tight.

Her mouth was open, but she didn’t speak; instead, she gasped as he pushed deeper inside her, a soundless scream as she came around him, her pussy squeezing him tighter as if she was begging for him to fill her.

The wet sound of each thrust, the look on her face, the tightness of her embrace, it smashed into Harry, spinning him over that cliff.  His thrusts sped up, and he pushed himself as deep as he could inside her as his cock jerked, filling her up.

His muscles were like steel as he looked down at her, the orgasm ripping through him, and gritted, “Hermione, say something, please.”

But something else was happening as he came, a bond between them pulling tight, as if it was yanking the heart out of his chest. She shuddered under him as if she felt the same savage pull, and her eyes—

Her eyes.

He cupped her cheeks, their bodies still connected, and stared as jagged streaks of green tarnished the brown of her eyes as if he had infected her somehow by making love to her.

Hermione, though, ignored his frozen state and self-loathing. She moved toward him again, kissing him, and he felt the bond pull at him again, calling him to action. He gave in to it while squeezing his eyes shut in a failed attempt to stop the tears streaking down his face. He didn’t know what the hell they had just done.

                                                                                                    

---

 

After Harry sat with his head in his hands in the corridor beyond the room where Hermione slept, staring at the floor but seeing nothing. He had lost count of the times they had sex, but Hermione hadn’t spoken a single word to him, and her eyes had not changed back to their normal color.

Harry tried not to sink into the feeling of guilt that was stabbing at him. Ron was right, the idea of one sentence being consent was a fucking joke.  But she needed it.  No matter what happened, when this was all over, he’d have to accept the consequences, knowing he’d do whatever was needed to make sure she survived.

Because Hermione hadn’t said yes, she never said yes.

Harry didn’t look up when someone sat next to him, breaking the quiet spiral. He kept his face covered, unwilling to face someone at the moment.  A hand reached out tentatively and landed gently on his upper arm.

“The scans indicate the magical drain has stopped.  Miss Granger is stable.” Healer Hall told him gently.

Harry sucked in a shuddering breath. “And her eyes?”

“We did several tests.  Her vision is fine, and all her vital signs are stable.  Healer Ivy has advised that it’s likely a side effect of the bond.”

“So it’s permanent, then?”

“Very likely, yes.”

“Why isn’t she talking?”

When there was no quick answer, he finally looked up at the healer, seeing her compassionate face. She looked as freshly pressed as if it were the start of her day, while he felt like last week’s rubbish.  “There’s a lot we don’t know, Auror Potter.”

Harry gave a humorless laugh.  “Considering everything, call me Harry, please.”

The healer gave a small, gentle smile. “Harry, then.” She took a breath as if bracing herself before continuing. “Right now, our success is keeping Miss Granger alive when, according to Belby, everyone else who has taken that potion has died.  Because of you, we now have time to find a cure.”

“Does she know what’s happening? Has she communicated with  anyone ?”

Healer Hall shook her head.  “Healer Ivy thinks right now that the potion is fogging her mind and reducing her to animalistic responses.  The topmost being survival. And for her, right now, that survival is you.”

Harry ran a shaky hand through his hair.  “This is all so fucked.”

Hall didn’t say anything for a moment, letting the words hang in the air like bludgers beating at him.

“I love her,” Harry admitted to this virtual stranger, his voice cracking.

Hall squeezed his arm. “You have to stay strong for her. This isn’t over, and we don’t know how long she’s going to need you and the bond to survive. Take comfort in what you know about her already and that her first impulse on waking was to reach for you.”

It wasn’t enough for Harry to quiet that voice inside him, twisted with fear and self-loathing.  They sat there in silence for a long time after. Harry didn’t know why the healer didn’t leave, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask either. He didn’t know if he was more desperate for a distraction or solitude to spiral in peace.

   

---

                                                                                                

A week of the best sex of his life, along with feeling like the world's biggest failure, passed. Why couldn’t he have just done everything? Saved everyone? Saved Hermione from getting potioned?

Thoughts Harry had put to rest years ago came back to plague him, even though he fought to keep his head straight. And he needed to be tough; he needed to be impervious and focus only on Hermione’s needs.

And she needed so much. The healers were constantly on him to eat, as his body, which had already been in top physical condition because of his job, became even leaner with sexual marathons.

The  exercise  was affecting Hermione in the same way, and she lost some of the curves he adored. It was a struggle to make her eat, though, and for now, they were resorting to knocking her out and feeding her intravenously.

Harry had been so busy with Hermione and the bond that he hadn’t seen anyone aside from the healers, and it didn’t occur to him how strange that was until Neville caught him as he was leaving Grimmauld, having stopped by for a quick change of clothes before heading back to St Mungo’s.

The knocks startled him, as if the outside world was giving him a poke to remind him it existed.  There was in fact a world outside of the bond pulling back to Hermione.

When he answered the door, Neville looked nervous and relieved to find him home.

“Harry!” Neville stepped forward, giving him a brief hug before coming in without waiting for an invitation. His dark brown hair was frazzled and windblown, and his shirt was misbuttoned.

“Hey, mate. I uuh…” Harry tried to think of a way to phrase it without being rude, but couldn’t come up with anything better than, “I don’t have much time to talk, sorry.”

“Oh, no.  I mean, I understand, but you haven’t, by chance, seen the Prophet, have you?”

The Prophet.  The daily magical newspaper that was the bane of Harry’s life growing up. Fuck. “No, why?”

Neville swallowed audibly before digging it out of his coat pocket to hand it over to Harry. An older picture of him, Ron, and Hermione was on the front page along with a sensational headline —  Harry Potter cuts in on Best Friend!

It felt like a rock formed in his stomach and dropped to the floor. Harry quickly scanned the page.  They knew he was in charge of Hermione’s care and were calling into question decisions he had made while cutting her “boyfriend” Ron out. They also insinuated that he had used his position as an Auror and history in the Second War to arrange it.

“ Damn bloody liars.” Harry’s hand clenched on the page before he threw the paper to the floor. “It doesn’t matter what they say, I can’t deal with them, I need to focus on Hermione and — “

“ No, mate. You don’t understand that’s not it.” Neville ran his sweaty palm down the side of his trousers. “You know, everyone talks to me, or if they don’t talk to me, they talk to Luna; she still reports sometimes for her dad and the Quibbler.”

Harry restrained his impatience and nodded as Neville rambled.

“Ron and some others — they’ve lodged complaints against you in the Ministry.  There’s supposed to be a full public inquiry.  They want copies of everything Hermione signed, putting you in charge, there’s going to be a review of the raid, and— “ Neville paused.

Harry felt like he’d been hit with a confundus.  A public inquiry? What the fuck! “What else, Neville?” What else could they be doing?

Neville’s Adam's apple bobbed as he stared at Harry before telling him, “There are whispers that in the meantime, the Wizengamot is going to put Hermione into a stewardship care and cut off your access until it's resolved.”

“ That’s not happening.” Harry was calm and absolutely stone-cold when he said it. “She would die without me now.”

Neville winced. “They don’t believe the bond exists, and although it's not public knowledge, there are those who know already what’s going on and think you’re… umm… uuhhh… taking advantage of her.”

It was so close to what Harry had beaten himself up over with his self-loathing that it was like a bomb exploded when his magic slipped his grasp, tendrils of it snaking out and turning all the furniture around them into dust.

“Who?”  The question was deadly quiet.

“Ron’s been whispering in a lot of ears, mate. Between him and Ginny, there are a lot of people who think you’ve gone a bit mental and that maybe Hermione getting hurt was too much for you. You need to get a solicitor to start untangling this mess.”

“This is ridiculous, Ron knows what’s going on and is being a fucking arsehole about the whole thing.” Harry couldn’t believe Ron would do this when he knew Hermione needed the bond.  They had worked together and grown up together — only for him to do this?

Harry wanted to hear it for himself, face to face. “I’m going to go talk to Ron.”

“But maybe a solicitor—“

“No, I’ll go straight to the source and put an end to this.” He just had to talk some sense into Ron, and if all else fails, knock it into him.

Harry ignored Neville’s rebuttals and hustled him out; he needed to be back at the hospital soon. After giving Neville a short goodbye, he apparated to the outside of Ron’s flat within the magical district and pounded on the door.

“Who is it?” A voice asked from within.

“You know who it is, “ Harry answered with an eyeroll, knowing Ron was looking through the peephole.

“What do you want?”

“Open the bloody door, mate.”

The door opened, and Ron stood there in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. He was dressed unusually, in a pressed shirt and trousers, his hair carefully combed. It was a sharp contrast to Harry’s t-shirt and jeans, with slightly damp, tousled hair.  He hadn’t bothered to pay too much attention to his clothes, knowing he wouldn’t even be in them that much once he got back to Hermione.

“Okay, so what do you want?”

“I want to know about this.” Harry slapped him on the chest with the creased newspaper, pushing him back a few inches.

Ron didn’t even look at it, keeping eye contact with Harry. “It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

“Not to me— what the fuck, Ron?”

“Look at it from my point of view, you’ve told me for years you don’t see Hermione that way.  Me and her have been together forever but we broke up and less than a month later you’re in bed with her because of some  accident .” Ron made air quotes on the last. “I’m just supposed to think after me and Hermione’s relationship, she just somehow had you on all her paperwork, it doesn’t make sense.”

She trusted me more than you.  Harry bit back the words, knowing that wouldn’t help the argument. “Hermione made the choice to put me on that paperwork, Ron.”

“Then you won’t mind an investigation to make sure.”

“To make sure of what! That I’m not somehow creating fake paperwork for the hospital and the DOM?”

Ron stared at him for a moment before asking. “When did your patronus change, Harry? How long have you been lying and hiding your feelings? You expect me to trust you when my sister tells me you broke up over Hermione almost five years ago? That’s fucking mental, mate.”

“It wasn’t your business! I never interfered with your and Hermione’s relationship, and I only approached her after you’d broken up.”

“Do you realize how fucked up that sounds?”

“What the fuck, Ron?  Should I have just immediately gone for her and tried to break you two up?”

“No, you should have been fucking honest, but that’s always been your problem, hasn’t it? You can’t fucking admit anything until it blows up in your fucking face!” Ron stepped forward as he yelled, and their chests bumped.

Harry planted his feet and stared into the eyes of the man he’d known for more than half his life. “What’s this about, really? Because all these excuses sound really fucking flimsy,  just like when we were in school and you just couldn’t stand Hermione looking at someone else but didn’t have the balls to admit it.”

“You think I’m jealous? Jealous of you? You’re taking advantage of her! You’re  ruining  her.”

The world went black with rage for Harry at that word.  The word that circled in his own mind every single fucking time he saw her eyes.  The way it looked like the brown had cracked between shards of green. He was  ruining  her.

It wasn’t the screams that brought him back, or the hands grabbing at him, trying to pull him off Ron.  It was her name that snapped him back to himself.

Hermione .

Just the thought pulled at him, tugging at his insides and reminding him he had somewhere else he had to be— with her. A camera was snapping as he looked over, his chest still heaving from adrenaline.

Of course.  Of — fucking — course the Prophet would be here, just waiting for the juicy tidbit his rage had handed them. Harry didn’t even look at Ron to see the damage; he staggered up and shoved off the strangers who had come out at the commotion and tried to help Ron.

Fuck him. Fuck them. Fuck the Prophet.

He apparated back to the hospital and was immediately hustled back to Hermione.  When the door to her room opened, Harry braced himself; he was never sure what to expect with her.  He saw Hermione sitting on the edge of the bed in a white hospital gown. At the sound of the door opening, Hermione looked up, and then her face broke into a big smile.  She ran to him, jumping into his arms, and kissed him hungrily, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

Fuck me.

 

 

Notes:

Mmmm so much going on in a fuck or die trope!! Don't worry its going to escalate quite a bit more before we get to our HEA. Yay first update of the week. I'm hoping to get Remedy updated saturday but it might be Meddling With Time if i get caught by that story again. With Matched I'm struggling getting a scene right so I'm a little stuck so I need more time.

Hope ya'll are having a great week!

Chapter 6: A Tarnished Hero

Summary:

Is it love or possession or some combination?

 

 

She woke up with the feeling of need scraping apart her insides. It hurt, like her magic was eating her from the inside out, and she gasped, jerking upright, her hands grasping her hair to yank it harshly as if she could pull whatever it was inside her out.

“Hermione! No, don’t!”

Hands grabbed at her, restraining her, and she felt feral like a trapped animal yearning for the freedom to breathe. Snarls escaped her lips, and she struggled against the restraint, hating it.

Until she felt the bond , it was the other touching her.

She turned, finally looking to see who had trapped her.  How had she mistaken the heat of him? His muscular chest was so close she could tilt her head to lick his skin.  The messy black locks that begged for her to run her fingers through them.

The chain that bound them snapped taut. She knew he felt it because he flinched, his body jerking towards hers as if the chain was real instead of just magic.  The intensity of it filled the air, making it heavy, making it hard to breathe. The heat of it filled her lungs, warming her from the inside out. It tingled along every single nerve ending, making her every molecule strain toward him.

It was him . He had what she needed.

She threw herself at him, her mouth open, licking his skin and grasping at the fabric covering him. She shuddered at the taste of his skin against her tongue, fighting him when he tried to draw her hands away.

“Hermione, wait! Fuck! I’ll take it off!”

The other was slower than her, which was good because that meant he couldn’t get away from her. She yanked hard, and the cloth covering his chest ripped with a satisfyingly loud sound. Sharp pings echoed as the little round fasteners shot into the air before falling to the floor.

He wrapped his arms around her, and she reveled in the strength of his grip. She needed more. Wrestling with him made sweat bead on her skin, and she rubbed against him, trying to mark him with her scent. Her breasts ached for his touch, her nipples hard.

She wanted to make demands, but all that came from her mouth were unintelligible sounds. Words swirled in her mind, but she couldn’t put anything in order; she couldn’t concentrate when she needed him so much. She whimpered when he finally grasped her breasts like she wanted, and moaned when he played with her nipples.

“Shhh, shhhh, I’ve got you love.”

The other crooned at her, his hands sliding over her skin. She liked the sounds he made, the way they seemed to vibrate on her skin.  His sounds were husky and eager, as if he needed it just as much as she.

The look in his eyes made her think that perhaps his magic was eating him from the inside, too.  That he knew the only freedom was when they were joined together, racing towards that little death.  The ecstasy that shook them so hard they died each time, only for the flames to rise again.

He was spreading her wide, gently, softly, but not enough.  She struggled against him, but he was too strong to overcome. Reasserting his dominance over her. Her lip lifted as she snarled at him, but he just cooed at her.

“That’s my good girl.”

He pushed inside her more gently than she wanted, as if she would break.  But hadn’t he learned by now she wouldn’t? She was strong.  She survived the times she woke up without him, when he disappeared. And she didn’t punish him too harshly when he reappeared.

She pushed at him until he let her roll them over so she was on top.  The feel of him inside her was different, like this, deeper, bigger. She braced herself on his shoulders, lifting her hips so she could move on him the way she needed. Hard and fast.  Chasing that ephemeral feeling that was so fleeting.

Give it to me.  She growled at him, not able to say it, but he didn’t seem to understand. The tips of his lips lifted when those lips should be  against hers.

“Take it, baby.”

She bounced on him the way she liked it, rising until he nearly slipped free and then plunging all the way in until she thought if she touched her belly, she’d feel him.  It was on the edge of too much that feeling of him fully inside her, but she was built for him.  The other half of her other.  Satisfaction hovered tantalizingly close, and she wanted it so badly, but she also wanted to stay in this moment forever.  Filled to the brim, hungry, and utterly his.

She lifted her hips as fast as she could, sliding up and down on him, her breasts bouncing in his face. He leaned forward and took her nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, and a streak of lightning shot through her.

Yes! Yes! This was it, more and more! She needed more from him, she needed —  She needed.  The other was holding her tighter, bracing her for his thrusts as his hips snapped up, coming to meet hers, rough and desperate.  The chain between them tightened even more. Choking. Needing. Desperate.

Her nails dug into his skin, making new marks to join the old ones.  Her mouth opened as she screamed when she came, feeling him fill her up, hot and too much. It slid down her thighs as magic arched between them in the crescendo.  Climbing and climbing, trying to reach the peak, but it was already fading, descending without reaching what they needed.

The other was making noises, but these in particular always resonated in her, reaching for something inside that was sleeping.

“I love you, Hermione, please, baby, love you.”

She shook in the aftermath, clenching on him to keep him inside her, trying to reach that peak again. The warmth was inside her, filling up her insides, but it wasn’t enough. She moaned against sweat-slicked skin, licking him.

Again. Again. Again.

Magic snapped between them, the fire that had briefly burned low flaring again. He hardened inside her with a groan.  Yes.  She needed more. Next time, when they ascended, they’d reach that level of satiation that seemed forever out of reach.

She needed more.

                

---

                                                                                   

A phantom wind blew through the hospital room, taking with it the humidity and the smell of sex. Harry sat next to a sedated Hermione, fully dressed.  Even though magic had erased the traces of what they had been doing for the past few hours, his body still felt it.

A relaxed euphoria that was still pulsing through his veins while he kept his face clear of his thoughts. It was disorienting going from a sexual marathon back to the cool atmosphere of a hospital room.

Healer Ivy inspected the diagnostic charms spinning above Hermione while Hall had a medical bag full of beige colored liquid floating nearby.

“We’re going to have to start trying to get her to eat while she’s awake with you,” Hall said as she started to transfer the nutrients to Miss Granger magically.

Harry barely restrained a scoff. He could barely think when they were together, and they wanted him to try to get her to eat? “I don’t know if that’s possible.”

“You have to try, feeding her like this long term will cause a host of issues with her digestive and gastrointestinal tract.  Organs can start to atrophy, especially when it’s exacerbated by exertion. You need to get her to eat.” Healer Hall said in a firm tone.

“How am I supposed to feed her when she only wants to —“ How was it possible to get embarrassed when these healers knew everything that was happening?

“Auror Potter—“

“I told you just call me Harry.” Formality was stupid in this situation.

“Harry, we have to try to keep her as healthy as possible, and part of that is getting her to eat solid food.  Depending on how long this lasts…” Healer Hall gave a worried shrug. So far, their research hadn’t turned up any way to reverse it, but it was still in the early stages.

“I’ll do it.” Harry didn’t know how he was going to do it, since Hermione only seemed to be interested in one thing, but he was going to fucking make her eat if he had to tie her down to do it.

“Good,” Healer Ivy looked at one of the medical displays. Her black hair was tied back severely, and she had dark circles under her eyes.  Harry knew the medical team had been hard at work trying to find a cure while he helped keep Hermione alive long enough for that to happen.

“She’s already lost weight.” Hall paused, looking at him. “And so have you.  It’s essential to keep your strength up — “

“You don’t need to lecture me, I know.” Harry interrupted firmly.  He didn’t want to hear it right now. He felt he was stuck in a pattern — sex, clean up, evaluation, food, and repeat.

He shook his head and checked the time, “I have a court hearing.  I have to go, but I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

Hall gave him a compassionate look, nodding. She had been following the papers and knew his guardianship of Miss Granger was going to be contested. 

Harry gave one last glance at Hermione, dressed in a hospital gown.  She was paler than she had been when this all started, and he thought her hair looked longer. He absently rubbed his shoulder, feeling the scratch marks on his skin. He was also going to have to cut her nails.

After a lingering glance, he turned and left the hospital for the Wizengamot.

                                                                                                    

---

 

 

The corridor to the courtroom was filled with reporters who started snapping pictures and yelling questions as soon as he entered.  He shoved his way to the tall bronze doors of Courtroom number three.

As Harry stepped into the chamber and saw the witches and wizards in plum robes, he was bizarrely reminded of being hauled into court over the use of underage magic when he had been a teenager. But no.  He wasn’t a teenager to be taken advantage of again.

There were two tables in the center of the floor.  At one table, his solicitor sat with an empty chair next to him. At the other table sat Ron with his own solicitor. Harry’s boots echoed in the cavernous chamber as he made his way to the empty seat.

Harry’s solicitor was a short, chubby man by the name of Samuel Barlow, who came highly recommended by Neville. Harry hadn’t thought he’d need a solicitor, but now, seeing how Ron had one too, he was glad he had taken the steps to hire one.

As soon as he sat, the head witch banged her gavel. “Proceedings are now in session.  Inquiry into the guardianship of Miss Hermione Jean Granger, currently under the care of St Mungo’s and incapacitated in the line of duty.  Present, we have Auror Harry James Potter, current de facto magical guardian, and our contestant Ronald Bilius Weasley.”

Harry looked over at Ron, who also sat next to a solicitor. Ron’s face was set in stern lines, determination in every line of his posture.  When the head witch gestured to Ron first, he stood up with a sheaf of papers. “Many of you know who we are; the war and our work in the Ministry has taken care of that. Harry is my best friend, and he defeated Voldemort, and then has done his best to uphold the law for the Ministry.  But so have I.  And so has Hermione.” Ron stopped clearing his throat when his voice wobbled.

“Hermione has no family in the wizarding world. She deserves to have someone who will put  her needs above any personal entanglements.” The crowd murmured as Ron shot a look of apology toward Harry. “Hermione and I were in a relationship for years, and yet Harry— despite being our best friend — was so in love with her himself that his patronus changed to match hers even while he was in a relationship with my sister.”

The murmurs from the crowd grew louder, and Harry’s magic prickled under his skin.  His jaw clenched, and he imagined jumping up over the table to punch Ron in the face. His solicitor cleared his throat and stood.

“Thank you, Mr. Weasley, for that emotional and factless plea.  Miss Granger, at every opportunity, named Mr. Potter as her guardian.” Barlow pulled out forms and waved his wand, duplicating them as they zipped towards the Wizengamot members. “She named Mr. Potter as her executor with the Ministry in case of death, and she also named Mr. Potter as her next of contact with her St Mungo’s paperwork from a prior admission to the hospital.”

One of the plum-dressed wizards flipping through the paperwork provided by Harry’s solicitor leaned forward. “No one here denies your contributions to our society, Mr. Potter.  You wield quite a bit of power to influence the Ministry. Who’s to say on the validity of this paperwork? Or if you might have coerced Miss Granger—“

Harry stood abruptly, staring at the man coldly. “Hermione Granger is the most stubborn person you’ll ever meet. She refused to give information to a Death Eater when under the cruciatus.  If you think anyone could make her do something she didn’t want to do, you clearly don’t know her.”

Several of the witches in the gallery broke out in subdued laughter, but the gavel struck once, sharply quieting them.

Ron’s solicitor stood up in the quiet that followed. “We have witnesses prepared to attest to Mr. Potter contributing to Miss Granger’s accident, and how he is taking advantage of the consequences of that accident and forcing a bond with a non compos mentis witch.”

There was dead silence in the wake of that allegation before gasps rang out through the crowd.  The whispers started low at first, then became a dull roar as the Wizengamot stared at Harry as if he belonged in Azkaban.

The head witch pounded her gavel to get the crowd back under control. “Forcing a bond is a serious allegation.  What do you say to this, Mr. Potter?”

“One moment, madam.” Harry’s solicitor leaned over, a small privacy charm springing up between them. “None of the paperwork you provided to me states anything about a bond.”

Harry scrubbed a hand over his face.  Fuck, he couldn’t believe Ron was going to bring this to the Wizengamot. “I didn’t think this would be brought up— this is a guardianship hearing and we clearly have the paperwork to show Hermione would want me as her guardian.”

“Is what Weasley said true about your patronus and being in love with her?” Barlow asked with sharp eyes.

“I’ve protected Hermione for years —

“Mr. Potter—

“I’m not going to let anyone — even an old friend — take her away from me.” Harry snapped at the solicitor.

The man sighed. “Mr. Potter— can I call you Harry?”

Harry nodded. “That’s fine.”

“Harry, I thought your relationship was platonic — you having a romantic relationship with her— “

“Ron was her boyfriend! She left him— “

“He looks like he’s concerned for her, while you are acting only in your best interest.”

“I have done everything I can to keep Hermione safe the entire time I’ve known her, and I’m not going to stop keeping her safe no matter what it looks like to these idiots,” Harry growled.  

“We’re going to need character witnesses to attest to that.  I’m going to ask for a recess, then you need to marshal your advocates.”

“A recess? You think they won’t rule in our favor?”

Barlow shook his head. “They’re too capricious.  We can’t risk it as it stands now— forcing a bond is so taboo, they might as well have said you have the dark mark.  Now it’s just a question in their minds, but it might be enough to lose their vote to approve your guardianship.”

“I’m not letting them take her away from me, no matter what they rule.”

Barlow looked slightly tortured. “Please, sir, I can’t be advised of any law-breaking in advance.”

Harry waved his hand, and the privacy charm dropped. Barlow stood with a bow. “We respectfully request a recess in order to schedule witnesses to attest that Harry Potter’s actions concerning Miss Granger were with the utmost intent of ensuring her safety and wellbeing.”

The head witch looked considered the request inspecting both Ron and Harry as they sat there tensely. “The court will allow a recess of three days.  When we convene next, we want attestations of the nature of any bond, the nature of Miss Granger’s incapacity, as well as any proof there is of Mr. Potter not acting in her best interests.”

When she banged her gavel, the court erupted in activity, members of the Wizengamot standing and chatting while Harry’s solicitor gathered up his paperwork.

When Ron left through the side door of the courtroom, Harry followed him.

 

 

---

 

 

 

 

 

Notes:

Yay first update, ah my fuck or die is so plotty hahahahaha whatever happened to PWP?

Chapter 7: They'd Choke

Summary:

The second court hearing goes about as well as the first

 

 

The other paced in front of her, back and forth. His muscles flexed temptingly as he moved. She could practically taste his emotions floating through the air with his magic.

He had tried to give her things in her mouth, and she’d snatched it away from him and thrown it at the wall instead.  She wanted  him  in her mouth.

And he knew it.

His beautiful back muscles were corded with tension, his frustration leaking into the air. He didn’t want to give in to her. It was perplexing when she knew he wanted it too, that he felt the pull between just as intensely as she did.

Even if she hadn’t felt his need with her magic, his body betrayed him.  She noted his hardness pressing against a layer of pesky fabric.

She could feel the heat building between them, burning up the air. Her nipples tightened, and all the sensations against her skin were too rough.  She needed to feel him against her.  Inside her. She shifted sensually, trying to draw his gaze.

His eyes snapped to her instantly at her movement. He was hyper-aware of her as the bond tightened, trying to pull them together. She kept eye contact with him as she moved her hand down her belly until she reached her pussy. Slowly, she slid her fingers through her curls, her hips bucking against her own hand.

His steps slowed, and the vein on the side of his neck popped out when he swallowed hard.

“You’re never going to fucking forgive me.”

The sounds didn’t make sense, and she restrained a frown at the feel of pain in them. He ran his hands through his hair.  If the other would just give in, he wouldn’t experience the clawing pain of denial.  He was so stubborn, but she knew she could draw him in.

She stroked herself again, shuddering, and hid a delighted smile when he approached the bed. He watched her for a tense minute until, with a small groan, he climbed onto the bed.  He knelt between her legs, watching her hands even more closely.  She raised her hips slowly, her stomach muscles contracting with effort as she rubbed her pussy steadily.

She rolled her hips in the air, the wet sound of her fingers sliding against herself tempting him. He fought and fought the bond, but she knew the resistance would fall away once he touched her.

His hands fisted on his thighs as he knelt there between her legs, each muscle so tense he looked as if he would explode.  Slowly, she raised her hands, reaching for his shirt.  She grasped the fabric tightly, keeping his gaze as she yanked.  The buttons popped off as she pulled harshly.  The low clatter of the stubborn ones flying across the room was intensely satisfying.

She loved that sound.

She sat up and pushed her face against his neck, trying to breathe him in.  The smell of the other things he had brought into the room obscured his scent, and she hated that.

She drew her tongue along his warm skin.  He was warm like the sun’s rays.  He was the only sun she had.  But he was more than enough. Bright and hot and hers.  Her  other .

Her nails scraped along his back as she dragged off his shirt, and he moaned, his muscles flexing against her hands. He was still tense despite submitting to her ministrations.

It drove her mad to know he would walk away from her once he was done with her again.

With a growl, she pushed him over, and his face darkened, his brows lowering.  His heat burned her each time she came close. She fisted her hands into the wild strands of his black hair, pulling his head down roughly to kiss him desperately.

Stay with me.

He only put up with it briefly before he flipped them around so he was on top.  His shoulders and chest blotted out the rest of the world.  Her sun.

She tightened her legs around his hips, twisting slightly so she could enjoy the friction of their skin.

His cock rubbed against her wet pussy, and she gasped, digging her nails into his skin greedily.

Give it to me.

She pleaded with him wordlessly, moaning and pushing her hips up against him as much as she could under his heavy weight.

Make me burn.

“I love you. I love you.”

He growled against her as he pushed forward, his cock spreading her open. The sounds made pleasure surge through her.  He was making her favorite sounds. The vibration of them made her heart tremble.

Her rib cage ached as the intensity of the feelings built between them, bouncing back and forth until it resembled pain.

Pleasure twisted with the phantom pain as he bottomed out, his hips meeting hers. The heat was scalding, burning, desperate.  Every piece of her was so sensitive to his touch.  He shoved himself deeper inside her, and there was no air to breathe as she twisted under him.

Harder.

She wrapped her legs around him, trying to keep them connected as he withdrew, then surged forward again. She was choking on him, her lungs shriveling to make space for him inside her.

More.

His pulse was like a drum echoing in their merged magic, and she leaned forward to lick the hollow of his throat where she could see the movement.  His heart beat raced in tandem with hers.  They were burning together.  Hotter and Harder.  A wet sound echoed as he withdrew and fucked inside her again.

“God, you feel so fucking good. Please, Hermione, please.”

She heard it in his voice; the tension was about to crest.  Her legs tightened on his hips as she pushed up hard with her hips as he came down.  It was jarring and intense and exactly what she needed to tumble over the edge with him.

Her toes curled and her fingers dug into his back as her pussy squeezed him. He shuddered, and she felt the drip of tears. She didn’t know whose tears they were.  It didn’t matter.

She cradled him tenderly as they waited together for the fire to burn them again.

 

---

                                                                                                   

 

Harry arrived at the Lovegoods' cottage just as the sun began to set.  The sky was painted in shades of lavender and pink— colors he associated with Luna.  The cottage was much as Harry remembered — quirky and slightly askew.  Windchimes made of butterbeer caps rattled in the breeze, and the scent of wildflowers drifted from the meadow beyond.

He needed to go inside to meet Luna and Neville.  But he couldn’t move, frozen by a sense of unreality.

The utter bizarreness of the situation he was in would hit him randomly, and he would freeze as if waiting for life to start making sense again.  But it never did. Harry couldn’t believe he was here to ask Luna and Neville to testify on his behalf against charges leveled by  Ron  of all people.

It felt like yesterday he had been filled with anticipation about the countdown Hermione had set for them.

Thirty days.

They hadn’t even made it half of that. Harry shook his head and finally approached the blue door.  Luna opened the door before he could knock, her silvery eyes shining with a dreamy warmth.

“Hello, Harry.”

He managed a faint smile for her.  “Hello, Luna.”

“Come in, Neville is very worried about you.”  She led him through to a cozy, cluttered sitting room. Neville was seated in a worn armchair with a very small teacup balanced carefully in his hand.

“Harry.” Neville welcomed, his eyes lit with concern. “How are you?”

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it, not sure how to answer.  Eventually, he shrugged.  “It’s — there’s just a lot.”

Neville nodded soberly while Luna stood still, studying him with her piercing eyes. The quiet settled uneasily before Luna gave a small smile and gestured to a chair.  “I’m sorry, Harry, please sit, let me get you some tea.”

“Thank you, Luna.”

“How’s Hermione?” Neville asked while Luna handed Harry a cup of tea.

“We’re trying to get her to eat, and it’s not going well.” Harry grimaced at the memory of the food hitting the wall of the hospital room.

Luna gave a little hum. “Perhaps if you made eating a bit more  tempting , Harry.”

Luna’s eyes twinkled with innuendo, and Harry gave her a blank look.  He was  not  having a discussion with Luna Lovegood on how to make Hermione’s food  tempting  with that insinuating tone.  Harry thought he might have a heart attack instead. He sat down opposite them and drank his tea to give himself some time to put together his thoughts.

At his silence, Neville leaned forward, concerned as he inspected Harry more closely. “Is that all that’s worrying you, mate?”

“Not exactly.  The court hearing didn’t go well.  Some of the Wizengamot members think I took advantage of Hermione.  That I… forced a bond with her.” Harry stumbled over the words.

Neville turned an angry red at the allegation.  “That’s rubbish.  You are trying to save her; you’d never harm Hermione.”

“The Wizengamot doesn’t see it that way. Or they don’t want to. Barlow advised that I need people to testify on my behalf.” Harry’s lips twisted. “Character witnesses, I suppose.”

“I’ll testify.” Neville volunteered as he set down his tea with more force than necessary. “You don’t even have to ask. They’ve always been suspicious of you, even after everything you’ve done.”

Before Harry could answer, Luna leaned forward too, tilting her head in that fey way of hers. “I’ll testify too.  Hermione wouldn’t have survived without you.” She paused. “Some people may make you prove who you are over and over again.  We won’t.  We know who you are, Harry Potter, and we’ll remind the Wizengamot, too.”

Their immediate support made Harry think of Ron.  Why, even after all these years, did Harry get so little trust from him? Why, when the stakes were high, was it always a test from the person who claimed to be his best mate?

Harry exhaled slowly, emotions roiling through him.  Gratefulness to have such friends who would stand up against the Wizengamot for him, and anger that the person who should have been helping him through this was the cause of all his problems.

He should have given Ron two black eyes.

“Thank you.” He said to Neville and Luna.  “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Neville clapped him on the shoulder, solid and reassuring.  “You won’t have to find out.”

Harry turned his teacup in his hand.  “I appreciate that, mate, but there’s something I have to warn you about.” He looked up to meet their eyes, his face set.

“I don’t care if they rule against me— they are not taking Hermione away from me.”

Neville swallowed hard at that pronouncement. “She’d die, wouldn’t she, if they tried to keep you two separate?”

Harry nodded but added, wanting them to know regardless. “Even if it wasn’t this dire — I wouldn’t let them take Hermione away from me, Neville. They have no right.”

Neville looked at Luna before meeting Harry’s eyes again. “I understand, mate.” He said softly.

       

---

                                                                                            

The tall bronze doors loomed before Harry once more, but his time he knew exactly what awaited him on the other side in Courtroom number three.  He knew he would have to shove his way through reporters to face a courtroom of disapproving witches and wizards in puce colored robes.

As before, there were two tables in the center of the floor.  Samuel Barlow shoveled his papers and projected confidence that Harry knew he didn’t feel from previous conversations.

The so-called witnesses were to be kept outside the proceedings and led in when it was their turn to testify so their testimonies were not biased by previous witnesses.

Harry tensed when the first witness approached the stand.  Healer Angela Hall strode confidently to the witness box wearing her green healer’s robes.  She smoothed back her already perfect hair, and the St Mungo’s insignia glinted briefly in the light.

She met his eyes briefly and nodded at him.  Harry could see the sympathy in her eyes.

“Please state your name and profession for the record.” The same head witch from the previous session requested.

“My name is Angela Hall, and I  am the senior healer specializing in potion damage at St Mungo's.”

“What is your relationship to Miss Hermione Granger?”

“I have overseen her treatment since the incident.  I am responsible for both monitoring her health and working with another specialist, Healer Ivy, as we review the documentation provided by Calix Belby on his illegal experiments.”

The head witch nodded to Ron’s solicitor, who stood up to begin his questioning. In contrast to Harry’s solicitor, Ron’s was a tall, thin man with salt and pepper hair and a stern expression. He clasped his hands together as he asked, “Healer Hall, please tell us what role Mr. Potter has played in any treatments you have provided Miss Granger.”

Healer Hall straightened her shoulders.  “Mr. Potter has allowed Miss Granger to feed off his magical presence.  The potion Miss Granger was dosed with resulted in her needing to consume magic to survive. We have seen marked improvement in her vitals since Mr. Potter has allowed her to consume his magic.”

As Healer Hall explained, there were murmurs from the crowd.  A witch near the back scoffed audibly at her explanation.

“How exactly has Mr. Potter shared his magic with Miss Granger?” The solicitor pressed.

“His presence—“

“So he merely  stands there ?” The solicitor cut her off sharply.

Healer Hall’s hands fisted in her lap. “They establish a connection through… intercourse—“

The Wizengamot erupted. Gasps, shrieks of dismay, and angry whispers filled the court chamber.

She’s sick and he’s taking advantage of her!

Well, truth will out, he was always close to you know who, wasn’t he?

Did he really force a bond on her?

Healer Hall stood up abruptly, looking around at the members of the Wizengamot. “Miss Granger would have died without Mr. Potter.” Her voice rang with conviction.

Ron’s solicitor’s eyes gleamed as he drove his point home. “So it’s true then, Mr. Potter bonded Miss Granger to him without her consent?”

“It wasn’t— “

“Yes or no, Healer Hall.”

“She wasn’t— “ Healer Hall faltered, looking at Harry with apology.

“Healer Hall.” The head witch cut in impatiently. “Please answer the question as directed.”

“Yes.”

Ron shot to his feet in an instant, looking towards the Wizengamot members. “You heard it! He’s taking advantage of her to force a bond without her consent! This isn’t healing, it’s entrapment!”

The head witch pounded her gavel for order as the Wizengamot broke into raucous yells, accusing stares all turned toward Harry.

“That is out of line!” Barlow shot up next to Harry, waving his papers. “Mr. Potter saved her life.  Just as honorably as he always acted— “

Harry gripped the edge of the table, his hammering pulse drowning out the uproar.  The bond pulled at him, aching for Hermione, and his stomach twisted. He hadn’t wanted it to go this way. As poorly as this went, there was no reason for Luna and Neville to damage their standing by speaking for him.

They were going to try to take Hermione away from him, and he was not going to fucking allow it. He wanted to rage at all of them; he’d done nothing but try his best to help Magical Britain, and at the first opportunity, they were turning on him.

“Healer Hall, you may stand down.” The head witch prompted, trying to get the hearing moving forward.

Harry leaned toward Barlow. “Ask for a recess.”

“But—“ Barlow started to protest.  This was the worst time to recess and would settle the last memory of the session being such a dangerous and baseless accusation that would further harm his client’s already shaky standing.

“Barlow. I  need  a recess.” Harry’s voice was steel.  He wasn’t going to wait until the last minute and risk losing Hermione.  He had a lot of work to do.

Barlow stood abruptly. “Madam, members of the Wizengamot.  We request a recess.”

“Don’t you have other witnesses to call?” The head witch asked inquiringly, her brow arched.

“New information has come to light, and it’s imperative we have a recess.” Barlow lied smoothly.

The head witch nodded slowly.  The Wizengamot members were already acting like overwrought ninnies; perhaps a recess would be best.  She banged her gavel.  “Recess Granted. Administration will schedule the next hearing and inform all parties via owl.”

Harry ignored everyone, making his way to where Luna and Neville waited outside in the hall.

“Harry?” Neville’s brow wrinkled when he saw him and then noticed all the Wizengamot members trickling out of the courtroom.

“Come with me to Grimmauld,” Harry said quietly, and Neville nodded, grasping Luna’s hand to tow her along as they walked swiftly out of the Ministry.

The shouts started not a second later as they sped up to get away from the press.

“Mr. Potter! Wait! Do you have a comment?”

“Is it true you’re bedding a witch without her consent? You know what that makes you don’t you?”

Luna flinched, then whirled around, her voice sharp as a knife. “You shut up this instant!”

Neville had never seen Luna angry, and it was truly a sight to behold as her hair lifted on a phantom breeze and small crackles of lightning seemed to pulse from her.  Still, they didn’t have time to kick the press’s arses, no matter how much they deserved it.

Both Neville and Harry yanked Luna along before apparating together with a loud crack. They entered Grimmauld in a rush, and all three stood breathing harshly in the entryway. The silence pressed down on all of them as they absorbed the aftermath.

Neville broke it first. “I guess it didn’t go well.”

Harry laughed bitterly. “No, mate, it went fucking terrible.”

Luna clutched at his sleeve, her eyes fierce. “You can’t let them take her away from you; she’ll die.”

Harry patted her hand, his demeanor calm and unshakable. “I won’t.”

Neville looked a lot more worried than Luna, whose concern relaxed at Harry’s confident reply. “You’re just going to defy the Wizengamot outright?”

“What are they going to do about it? Try to throw me in Azkaban?” Harry’s expression was cold.  “They don’t have the spine to arrest the Chosen One. They’d choke on the headlines before the chains touched my wrists.”

He wasn’t going to play their stupid games when Hermione’s life was at risk.

“But Hermione needs constant care.  How will you prevent them from moving her at St Mungo's?” Neville asked.

“I’ll move her here— Grimmauld is already unplottable.  I’ll add a fidelius charm myself.”

“I’ll help you, Harry.” Luna laid a supportive hand on his upper arm.

Neville nodded. “Me too.”

Harry looked toward Neville. “I’m going to need a house elf, too.  One I can trust to give their loyalty only to me.” Harry knew the value of a house elf’s loyalty.

“I can ask Gran’s house elf. Bippy might know one willing to pledge their loyalty to you.”

“I’ll resign from the Aurors.  I can’t serve the Ministry while protecting Hermione from them.” Harry’s mind was racing with everything that would need to be done to make sure he could move Hermione to Grimmauld and be able to care for her.

The weight of it pressed down on him, but the bond burned steadily inside him. They just needed to hold on until a cure was found.

 

Notes:

Yay first update for the week. I'm pretty even between Meddling and Intertwined so idk which one will update, but should be posted sunday -ish :D sooner if the muse strikes! Cross your fingers and pray to the fanfiction gods.

Although I have been SUPER DISTRACTED watching this cdrama on Netflix called First Frost -- aaaaaaaaaah its so freaking cute.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 11 of Harmony Smut Fic (👀)