Ron stepped out of the floo with a sack-full of new Sob Story vials clutched in his hand, only to be promptly hit over the head with a frying pan. And hit hard. For a second, everything went black. As his vision returned (well, mostly returned; there were loads of sparkling white stars all over the place), Ron found that he had fallen to his knees. More distressingly, Hermione was standing over him, brandishing a now-dented frying pan like a club.
"You son of a bitch!" hollered Hermione, swinging the pan at Ron again. Desperately, Ron lurched backwards in an attempt to avoid the blow. It was enough; Hermione missed his head, and the pan slipped from her hands, clattering on the floor.
"What the hell?" shouted Ron.
Luna, who was standing behind Hermione with her arms full of kitchen utensils, pots, and pans, handed the brunette witch a large wooden spoon. Hermione swung the spoon like a sword, slapping Ron across the face.
"Worthless piece of shite!" cursed Hermione.
Standing on the other side of the kitchen, Ginny watched in mute horror as Hermione beat Ron with various cooking utensils. The red-haired witch flinched with empathy for her brother as the wooden spoon snapped over Ron's forearm.
"Here, take this one," offered Luna as she handed Hermione a cast-iron skillet. "Hit him in the balls for me."
"Please, you've seen his so-called goods," the brunette said as she wrapped her fingers tightly around the handle of the skillet. "They're not big enough to be considered balls."
"Point taken; hit him in his pea-sized testicles," corrected Luna.
Hermione swung once again. This time her aim was only slightly off. She had attempted to strike Ron directly on the side of his head. Unfortunately, she had only glanced at the top of his skull with the edge of the skillet.
"Try to visualize it, Hermione," suggested Luna helpfully. "See yourself hitting Ron squarely in the face. Imagine the sound of metal on bone. And think about how the handle will vibrate in your grasp as you land the blow."
A loud clang echoed through the Burrow as Hermione's aim proved true.
"That's it, Mione!" cheered Luna.
"I couldn't have done it without you," Hermione returned the compliment.
"Aw, that's sweet," the blonde said sincerely. "I feel like we're bonding, Hermione. We'll have to work on that later. For now, hit him again."
Just then, Harry Apparated silently in the rear of the kitchen. Ginny (the only one who noticed his silent arrival) rushed to him and urged, "They're going to kill Ron! You've got to stop them!"
"Get out of my way, you sniveling inbred sow," Harry said. He roughly grabbed Ginny around the shoulders and forcibly shoved her to the side.
As Harry walked toward the scene of commotion, Ginny was taken aback (and not just physically – Harry had effectively tossed her into the doors of the kitchen cupboard). However, she wasn't taken back over the fact that Harry had never insulted her nor had he ever manhandled her (or touched her for that matter) before. She was surprised that she found she rather liked it. His rough touch and harsh words made the redhead tingle in places that are inappropriate to talk about in public (but since she wasn't in public, she was coyly referring to her fiery crotch).
"We're leaving," Harry commanded. With this statement, he grabbed Hermione's arm in his right hand and Luna's with his left.
Upon seeing Harry, Hermione remembered his threat. "You didn't kill someone, did you?" she asked, hoping he'd answer "no."
"I said I would, didn't I?" he replied, and dragged the two witches to the kitchen table, leaving Ron in front of the hearth, bloodied and beaten.
"But you couldn't have," Hermione protested. "You didn't have enough time! You left me less than twenty minutes ago!"
"Twenty minutes is more than enough time for me to kill someone," Harry said with pride. "All it takes is two words."
"But you thought I was going to Luna's house, you didn't know I'd be here," argued Hermione. She was desperately trying not to accept that Harry had just admitted to killing someone. "There wasn't enough time for you to go someplace, kill someone-"
"I killed Fudge," he smiled.
"Good grief, Harry!" exclaimed Ginny.
"You couldn't have killed Fudge, then Apparate to Luna's, and then come here to find us," protested Hermione. "There's no way you had enough time to do all of that."
"I didn't go to Luna's after I killed Fudge. I knew you were here," he said and tapped his wand on the dining table. "Portus."
"What? How'd you know I'd come here first?" Hermione pressed on as the table glowed and trembled. "If I had followed your orders, I would've been at Luna's still."
"Tracking Charm," he answered.
"You put a Tracking Charm on me?" Hermione screeched at the invasion of privacy.
"No, not 'on' you," he said with a knowing smile. "I put one 'in' you."
Hermione's eyebrows rose as Luna and Ginny looked at Harry questioningly.
"I created a charm that can track and follow whatever 'vessel' that has my semen; anywhere, no matter what wards or protections the place has," explained Harry.
"Wait, semen?" Ginny asked. Her face was turning red with jealousy. She looked at Hermione with her eyes burning in rage. "You have Harry's semen in you?" The redhead fumed. That trollop had her dream wizard's seed in her!
"I didn't have time to clean up, okay?" Hermione shot back.
"We're wasting time," Harry announced and pushed both Luna and Hermione onto the table-turned-Portkey. With a pop, the table and the two witches disappeared.
From the hearth, Ron began to stir. He raised his head just in time to see Harry vanish.
"That conniving SLUT!" screamed Ginny. The witch's cry of rage covered the loud thud of Ron's head hitting the hearth as he lost consciousness.
--Line Break--
The moment the Portkey landed in the flat in Knockturn Alley, Hermione was flung off and fell to the floor.
"Are you alright?" asked Luna as she gracefully hopped off the table.
"We need to get out of here," Hermione stated while she stood up. "Harry needs hel-"
"What I need is right here," Harry said as he appeared next to the two witches with a barely audible pop.
"Harry, listen to me. Something happened to you," pleaded Hermione. "Let's go to Dumbledore, and he can help us."
"When I kill someone, I tend to build up a lot of energy," he said while pulling off his shirt. Hermione tried to ignore his rippling muscles and the dark line of hair that jutted out from behind his beltline. "Right now, I need to work that energy off."
"This isn't like you," Hermione protested, although a part of her was requesting that they should go get help after Harry burned off the excess energy.
"Luna, we're going to have sex," Harry said to the svelte blonde.
"Okay, that sounds like fun." Luna sounded as if she were agreeing to a game of chess.
"What?" Hermione asked in surprise. "You're going to have sex with Luna?"
"Don't be jealous, Hermione," Harry said with a lopsided grin. "You know there's enough of me to share."
"Oh, I'm not jealous," she half lied. She wanted to feel him again, but she realized she could use this situation to her advantage. While Harry and Luna had sex, she could sneak off and fetch Dumbledore (that and Harry was right, there was more than enough of him to share). "You two go at it. I'll just go out for a bit."
Hermione had made it two steps before Harry said, "You're not going anywhere."
"No, really, it's fine," urged Hermione. "I'll just be a third wheel."
Harry waved his wand and conjured a chair at the foot of the bed. He flicked his wand, and Hermione felt an invisible hand wrap around her wrist before tugging her toward and then tossing her in the chair. Before she could get back up, Harry twirled his wand, and a length of rope erupted out of its tip, coiling around Hermione's wrists and ankles, tightly binding them to the arms and legs of the chair. The rope continued to wrap around Hermione's midsection, from the top of her hips to the bottom of her breasts, tying her torso to the back of the chair.
"No, I must insist, stay," Harry said, still grinning. He turned back to Luna and told her, "Take off your clothes and get on the bed."
--Line Break--
"So, Severus, have you brought me any virgins?" Lord Voldemort asked.
"No, my Master," Snape said while bowing in front of Voldemort. "I have failed you, and I submit myself for punishment."
"Normally, I would penalize your failure, but I'm in a particularly good mood," Voldemort said. "And why am I in such a good humor, Bellatrix?"
"Because I got not just one virgin but two!" the demented witch cheered from the other side of the throne room.
"Are you certain they are pure?" Snape asked Bellatrix.
"I'm positive," she said snidely at him.
"What means did you use to verify this?" the Potions Master inquired.
"Trust me, they're virgins," she replied with an air of arrogance.
"You did not use the Virginitas Charm?"
"What are you talking about?" she demanded.
"It is an ancient charm used to test the purity of a bride and groom-to-be. I would've assumed that anyone who brought a sacrifice to our Master with claims of capturing a virgin would be more thorough," he lectured.
"Bellatrix, do you know this charm?" Voldemort asked.
"N-no, sire," she admitted shamefully.
"Severus, go to the dungeon and perform this charm on Bellatrix's offerings," the Dark Lord ordered. "I must be certain that they are virgins."
"Yes, my Lord," Snape bowed. "The charm, which is difficult to cast, takes time to reveal the purity of the person. For two people, it should take twenty to thirty minutes."
"Do it," Voldemort said, and waved Snape away.
Walking briskly to the dungeons, Snape recalled his orders from Dumbledore: he had to make sure the Dark Lord didn't perform the ritual by any means. And for the ritual to be successful, it needed virgins. So Snape came to the decision to remove that option.
He opened the cell door and found two people cowering in the corner. One was a skinny woman covered in pimples. The other was a tall, pear-shaped man.
Snape took a breath and screwed up his courage. He pulled three vials out of his robes: two mild love potions and one stamina potion.
"Drink these down if you want to live," the greasy wizard commanded as he handed the two Muggles the love potions.
Snape drank the stamina potion in one gulp. He fought the growing revulsion by repeating "For the greater good" over and over as his organ grew as hard as steel.
--Line Break--
"Any sign of Potter yet?" Moody grumbled as he limped into Dumbledore's office.
"No," Kingsley said.
"Arthur and I were having lunch at the Leaky Cauldron when we heard the news. I told him to go to his home. There's a good chance the boy will head there," Moody explained.
"We must find him and return him to his relatives," Dumbledore announced. "It is vital that we do this. Harry is in grave danger."
"Do you think his relatives will take him back?" asked Kingsley. "They were very upset, to say the least. In fact, the Dursley man said some foul words that I had never even heard before."
"We may have to erase their memories of this morning's events, I'm afraid," Dumbledore said with sorrow. "I hope that it doesn't come to it, but it may be necessary to adjust their memories."
The flames in the fireplace turned green, and Tonks stumbled out. She didn't even bother brushing the soot off her robes before she cried out, "Fudge is dead!"
"What?" Dumbledore stood in surprise.
"He got a Killing Curse to the back of the head in his own office," informed Tonks.
"When did this happen?" demanded the Headmaster.
"No more than half an hour ago."
"Damn," Moody cursed. "You Know Who couldn't have picked a worse time."
"What do you mean?" Tonks asked.
"You haven't heard? Potter's gone. Disappeared," the retired Auror said.
"Now, not only do we have to find Harry, but we have to deal with Fudge's assassination," Kingsley said bitterly.
Once again, the flames in the fireplace turned green, and Arthur Weasley rushed out.
"Any news?" Dumbledore asked the red-haired wizard.
"Ah," Arthur fidgeted for a moment. "Yes."
"Well, what is it?"
"This may be unrelated, Hermione Granger, with the help of Luna Lovegood, beat Ron nearly into a coma," the Weasley patriarch stated.
"Is he going to be okay?" Tonks asked.
"I hope so; Molly's taken him to St. Mungo's. They should fix him up easily. Although his head looked a bit like a turned potato," Arthur answered and added, "According to Ginny, Hermione and Luna were having some sort of lovers' spat over Ron."
"Wow, both of them? Good on him," congratulated Tonks.
"Yes, I've never had two witches fighting over me," Arthur said with a hint of pride for his youngest son. "The only thing that stopped the two from killing Ron was Harry. He pulled them off my poor boy."
"Harry was there?" Kingsley asked.
"Yes, but Ginny said he was acting strangely, and before he Apparated away, which is odd because I didn't think he could do that," Arthur said and added lightly, "I think he was pulling a prank because he was talking about having killed Fudge."
The office grew very quiet. Arthur looked around at the others with concern. They had all grown pale, and their eyes were wide in disbelief.
"Was it something I said?" asked the red-haired wizard.
--Line Break--
Dobby reached up and rang the brass bell on the counter of the magical building supply store.
"What can I do for you?" an old wizard with a large, frog-like mouth asked as he waddled up to the counter.
"Dobby be needing supplies to build Dobby's Master's hideout," the House Elf said proudly. He was so ecstatic that he was Harry Potter's House Elf that his previous ambition of being free and not needing to pay was thrown to the wind. He didn't need silly things like pay or freedom because his Master was the Greatest Wizard in the world.
"Sure thing, little fella, what type of hideout are you planning on building?" the wizard asked. House Elves coming into the store to build hideouts for their masters were very common place (occasionally, the House Elf belonged to an up and coming dark wizard and therefore needed a secret location to practice the dark arts, but most often the House Elf belonged to a wizard who was building a hideout as a place to store his mistress so his wife wouldn't find out about their affair) and he took Dobby's request in stride.
"Dobby do be building a grand hideout with two sex swings," the excited elf answered (the comment about "sex swings" confirmed the wizard's assumption about the elf's master needing a place to hide his mistress, or, since the elf mentioned two sex swings, the hideout was for two mistresses... that lucky bastard). Dobby dropped a very large sack of gold on the counter in front of the wizard.
"Crikey, you weren't kidding about it being grand," he said in near awe of all the gold. After he composed himself (which consisted of wiping the drool off of his chin and adjusting his trousers – yes, he was that excited at the sight of that many galleons), he asked: "What style does your master want?"
"What do you mean by style?" Dobby asked.
"Well, there are loads of different styles, or looks, of a building," the wizard explained. "There's your standard stone and mortar keep or castle. Then there are Victorian palaces, classic cottages, and log cabins. We even have a few things lying around here that you can make the hideout look like a Muggle metal and glass building. And there are dozens of other styles."
Dobby fretted. Harry Potter had not told Dobby what style he wanted his grand hideout to be built in. The House Elf worried that he would choose the wrong style and Harry Potter would be upset with him. But then, Dobby remembered that Harry Potter was the Greatest Wizard in the world, and because of this, he needed the greatest hideout in the world. With this in mind, Dobby came to a decision. With his bulbous green eyes twinkling like fairy lights, he said to the wizard behind the counter, "Dobby is buying all sorts of materials to build all different styles."
--Line Break--
Hermione had tried to look away, but it was like a train wreck (a big, hot, throbbing train wreck). It didn't help matters in how the three were positioned. Luna was face down in the pillows with her knees tucked under her and her bum in the air. Harry was bent over her, sliding his monument in and out of the blonde's cunny. And Hermione was bound to a chair at the foot of the bed. She had, in a manner of speaking, a front row seat.
During their foreplay, Hermione had attempted to ignore Harry and Luna. But the way he worked his hands, fingers, lips, and tongue on the other witch made Hermione yearn and burn. When Harry fondled and kissed Luna's small breast, Hermione wanted his lips on her tits, to feel his tongue roll around her nipples. And when Harry buried his face between Luna's legs, Hermione wanted to be the one to spread herself wide, to give him access. When these thoughts popped up, the brunette struggled to force them out of her mind. But her resolve all but disappeared when he pulled that thing out of his trousers (she had equated the bulging veins on his organ to that of roads on a map, and she wanted to take a trip, following that map wherever it may lead).
As Hermione watched Harry take Luna from behind (as mentioned before, the brunette had gotten a good view of it), three thoughts preoccupied her mind. First, Harry had a very nice bottom (she imagined it as a ripe apple, and she wanted to take a bite out of it). Second, Luna really, really enjoyed Harry ploughing into her (the joyous cries, the red, engorged labia, and the ample amounts of fluid trickling from her nether lips proved this fact). Third, (and most importantly) this wasn't Harry.
If Harry had snapped as she had first feared, he would have shown signs of some sort of nervous breakdown (by acting mad if not insane or at least frantic). But this person (whose penis was playing "peek-a-boo," using Luna's vagina as a hiding place) showed no signs of a breakdown. He was cool and methodical, both in the way he claimed Hermione herself and Luna, as well as his claim of killing the Minister, as if he had become quite accustomed to sex and murder some time ago (also, even if Harry had lost it, Hermione doubted that he would've tied her up and shagged Luna right in front of her – it was just so out of character for him to do such a thing).
Hermione doubted that it was the Imperius Curse; Harry had easily thrown it off before. And she had never heard of a potion with such effects. So she assumed that it was a doppelganger (she doubted that it was a dark wizard using polyjuice because he had not drunk anything when they had sex earlier that day – and seeing how they had sex much longer than the effects of polyjuice lasted, that option was ruled out). So that meant this person was some sort of an evil twin or a version of Harry from another reality (this was highly unlikely, but still a possibility). And there was the physical change. There is no way that this buff and chiseled wizard in front of her was the previously scrawny, underdeveloped boy she knew. Especially given the limited time that had elapsed since she last saw "her" Harry at King's Cross.
With an animalistic series of grunts, Harry came (Hermione saw the proof of this dribble down Luna's thigh – hot, wet proof). A moment later, the black-haired wizard pulled out of Luna and sat next to her on the bed. Luna, who was too exhausted from the experience, didn't move an inch. She just lay there, with her bum in the air, showing off her recently shagged cunny to Hermione.
"That was," Luna began and paused to let out a content sigh, "the most," she sighed again, "fun I've," another long sigh, "had in my," this time, her sigh shuttered and lasted a good five seconds, "life!"
Harry draped one arm over Luna's bum, much like someone drapes their arm over the armrest of a chair. He looked at Hermione (perfectly comfortably with his arm hanging over a naked witch while he, too, was nude) and said, "I'm not the Harry you know."
"Really? Are you positive?" Hermione asked sarcastically while looking between his face and Luna's (still wet and dripping) cunny. "Because the Harry I know ties up one witch while shagging another all the time!"
"That would've been wonderful if he had. It truly is a neat activity," Luna commented, her voice muffled by the pillows. The moment after she made this statement, the blonde began to snore softly.
"I believe I'm from an alternate reality," Harry said, ignoring Hermione's snide comments.
"That was one of my theories," agreed Hermione. "When did you realize this?"
"At the Ministry," he answered. "I saw a newspaper that mentioned something about Dumbledore being asked to help the Ministry."
"Yes, he's the Headmaster at Hogwarts," Hermione informed him.
"In my world, he was killed by Grindelwald over fifty years ago," explained Harry.
"Oh, wow," Hermione muttered.
"Dumbledore had been the opposition's last hope. With him gone, Grindelwald conquered all of Europe easily. He now rules from the shadows, controlling the various puppet governments," Harry continued. "He renamed himself the King shortly thereafter."
"And let me guess; he, like many Dark Wizards, burned the scourge of Muggleborns out of Europe," Hermione assumed.
"He is a believer in blood purity, but only in regard to social status. He doesn't practice genocide," answered Harry. "Purebloods rule the governments; halfbloods and Mudbloods aren't allowed to hold office. Halfbloods are allowed to vote, but their vote is worth only half of a Pure-blood vote. Mudbloods, who can't be citizens, aren't permitted to vote.
"For the most part, Mudbloods are treated slightly better than House-Elves," the naked wizard continued. "They aren't allowed to go to school; they are only taught basic household charms. And they mostly work in the lower levels of the service industries; garbage collectors, dishwashers, and critics. They're permitted to own wands and perform basic types of magic, but they're not allowed to defend themselves, even if they knew how. This makes them easy targets for pure-blood gangs. Many Mudbloods are raped and beaten, with a number killed each year."
"That's disgusting," Hermione said in revulsion. Luna would've agreed, but the blonde had lost consciousness.
"A revolutionary group made up of old hippies and mods formed in the mid-seventies, led by some flower child named Tom, 'Believe in True Love, or I'll kill you, you bastard!' Riddle waged a war against Grindelwald. Riddle and his ilk were violent peace-mongers. This group was a thorn in the King's side for many years. A prophecy was made about me before I was born, never heard it, so I don't know what it said, but it brought Riddle to my home when I was a year and a half old. He killed my father, his wife, and my mother, who was acting as a surrogate for my father and his wife – or more correctly, I was conceived because Dad came home drunk and randy one night and entered the wrong room. My mother was the Potter's maid, you see. And since my father's wife was barren, they adopted me as their own, even though I'm technically a Half-blood. Riddle came into my house, slaughtered my father and his wife, then he killed my mother, but when he tried to murder me, the Killing Curse backfired and killed him instead. And all I got was this scar," he said, pointing to the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.
"That happened here, too. Well, except for the surrogate mother business," Hermione stated. "In this world, Riddle renamed himself Lord Voldemort. But nearly everyone refers to him as 'You Know Who' or 'He Who Must Not Be Named.' We believe our Harry's mother did something that caused the Killing Curse to rebound on Voldemort."
"But the news article I read said that Dumbledore was being asked to take care of Voldemort. If he was hit with a Killing Curse years ago, how could he still be a problem? Shouldn't he be dead?" asked Harry. "That is what a Killing Curse does after all."
"Well, for some reason, it didn't kill him completely. He became some sort of shade. And a year and a half ago, he resurrected himself," explained Hermione.
"That must've been a neat trick," commented Harry.
"What happened to you after Riddle tried to kill you?" Hermione asked.
"Well, the King, who had heard the whole prophecy, took me in and made me his apprentice," Harry said. "He was going against his own rules of blood purity by training a half-blood to be his apprentice. But he was the King, and he made the rules, so it was okay.
"He trained me, taught me everything he knew. He was a good teacher, but he only punished me with the Cruciatus if I didn't properly perform whatever spell or curse he was teaching me on the second try. And he stood behind me, with his hand on my shoulder – showing me his support, when I killed my first victim. I was the proudest nine-year-old in the world," he said happily, reminiscing.
"That's horrible!" Hermione said in disgust. "How could he make a nine-year-old do that?"
"Because he was kind and generous," he replied. "Many apprentices are forced to perform their first kill by themselves.
"Then he helped me when I lost my virginity," commented Harry. "I was in the middle of taking one of his lesser concubines when he scolded, 'No, no. You're doing it all wrong. Get out of the way and let me show you how to do it!' After shoving me off the witch, he took over. He taught me so much.
"But then, when I was thirteen, I started to slowly grow away from the King and his teachings," Harry continued with his voice growing colder by the second. "I no longer believed that pure bloods were better than anyone else. Some of my so-called peers were nothing more than inbred Neanderthals who barely had enough cognitive ability to breathe, let alone cast a proper spell. And by this time, I already had my world's version of you, Hermione, as my concubine. She was just a Mudblood, yet she could outwit and outperform most of my peers, even the ones who weren't imbeciles. This was a very impressive thing for a Mudblood to do."
"Oh, why this Mudblood thanks you for your kind words," Hermione said scathingly.
"You're welcome," he returned, either not understanding her sarcasm or (more likely) not caring. "But the final straw was when I met my betrothed. When the King took me as his apprentice, he betrothed me to one of his lieutenant's daughters, Millicent Bulstrode. Can you imagine? The King wanted me to put this," Harry paused and held his monument to manhood, "in that ugly gorilla so that I could propagate the wizarding race? That would be sacrilege! It would be like drawing a mustache on the Mona Lisa or like a madman chiseling off one of the toes of Michelangelo's David!"
Hermione had not followed a single word uttered once Harry put his hands on his member. Almost every single cognitive thought was chased out of the witch's mind. The only thing that remained was that big, hot, throbbing sausage.
--Line Break--
After Snape cleaned himself of sweat and other sticky liquids, he returned to the Dark Lord's throne room. He bowed respectfully and stated, "Sire, I regret to inform you that Bellatrix's sacrifices are not virgins. The Virginitas Charm proved this beyond a doubt." Of course, this was a lie. He didn't perform the Virginitas Charm since he knew for a fact that the Muggles were not virgins (he knew this because he was the one who took their innocence).
"What? That can't be!" cried Bellatrix.
"Are you certain, Severus?" asked Voldemort.
"Yes, my Lord, neither one passed the Virginitas Charm," Snape answered.
"They have to be virgins!" protested Bellatrix vehemently. "I took them from a freaking Star Trek Convention!"
A bloodied and battered Wormtail stumbled into the throne room and promptly crashed to the floor.
With a disgruntled sigh, Voldemort asked the rat-ish wizard, "I take it your search for a virgin was unfruitful?"
"F-fo-forgive me, M-master," Wormtail begged and spat up another tooth (if he had been keeping count, that would have made an even ten teeth lost). He considered himself lucky to have escaped the mad Muggle authorities. The moment the wizard had woken up in a drab, grey room after the debacle in the coffee shop, two big and burly police officers pounced upon him and proceeded to pummel him with heavy phone books and lengths of rubber hoses. "Like to violate innocent little children, do ya?" one had asked rhetorically before smashing the phonebook in Wormtail's face. After the two coppers got tired, the woman that Wormtail had known as Mary1138heart took over and used a handheld device that sent agonizingly painful electric charges through the wizard's body. As he twitched and screamed, she mocked, "I told you we don't take kindly to pedophiles here." But the phonebooks, hoses, and electrical devices were the least of the anguish Wormtail suffered. Let's just say that two of the police batons got a new sheath that day. Once he was finally left alone in the room (and after he removed the batons), Wormtail escaped by Apparating to his Master's castle. In comparison to the beatings (and especially the un-lubricated batons), Wormtail would gladly suffer the Dark Lord's punishment for failure.
Which he did.
"Curcio!" Voldemort shouted, and Wormtail screamed (even though a part of him was cheering on the inside; "At least it's better than sticks up the bum!").
After a few moments, Voldemort lifted the curse and turned to Bellatrix. "Crucio!" The witch screamed in agony for a minute before Voldemort lifted the curse. He turned to Snape and ordered, "Severus, dispose of Bellatrix's inadequate sacrifices."
"I live to serve, Master," Snape bowed once more before leaving the throne room.
--Line Break--
Meanwhile, in St. Mungo's, Ginny was crying pathetically in her mother's arms.
"Shh," Molly hushed and rocked her little girl in her arms. "Ron will be okay. The healers will fix him, you'll see. His head might remain misshapen, but he'll be okay."
"It's not that, Mum," Ginny hiccupped. "He had sex with Hermione!'
"Ronald did?" Molly asked, and her temper flared instantly. "How dare he!"
"No, not Ron... wait, yeah, he did... and Luna too," corrected Ginny.
"Ronald had sex with Hermione AND Luna?" At that moment, Molly was sorely tempted to push the Healers away from her son so she could beat him to within an inch of his life.
"But Mum, that's not why I'm crying. Harry had sex with Hermione!" wailed Ginny. The unfairness of it all cut through her. Harry was meant to be hers, and she knew it (she had even planned out their wedding already, down to what dress she would wear, what the cake would be made of, where they would spend their honeymoon, and how many candles would be lit – 328 by the way – when they consummated their marriage).
"Hermione had sex with Ron AND Harry? I knew she was a scarlet woman, but I never knew it was this bad," Molly said.
--Line Break--
"So, how can we find a way to send you back to your world and bring our Harry home?" asked Hermione (after she got over her daze caused by looking at the massive thing between Harry's legs).
"Why would I want to go back?" Harry asked. "This world is ripe for the taking."
"What?"
"I'm going to take over this world," he repeated.
"Wait, what about your world?" Hermione pressed. "Won't you miss it?"
"Nah, Grindelwald can keep it," commented Harry.
"What about this world's Harry? He's stuck in your world!"
"So what?"
"He could get killed there!"
"No, he won't," Harry said, brushing her concerns off. "If he's half as smart as I am, he'll do wonders. As I said, most of my peers are inbred morons. Besides, over there, he's got ten personal guards who'll die to protect him, so I doubt much harm will come to him. And he has a harem to boot, which meant that he was getting sucked-off the moment he woke up... which is a wonderful way to wake up. By the way, that was a hint as to how you should wake me up from now on.
"Besides, we don't even know how it happened. For all we know, it could've been some sort of cosmic fluke. And I don't reckon that swapping people from alternate realities is very easy," he speculated. "I mean, there must be loads of realities out there. What if you just swap me with a different Harry from another reality?"
"There has to be a way," Hermione persisted.
"Well, I won't help you. I'm staying right here," he said with a smile. "This world will be mine."
"Why?" Hermione asked. "Why do you want to rule the world?"
"Because it needs to be led," he said as if the answer was the simplest thing in the world. "The people practically beg to be controlled, and I want to be the one who does it."
"That's wrong and you know it," Hermione shot back.
"Why is it wrong to want to control the world?"
"Because it is," Hermione snapped. "Only evil people want to control others."
"Luna," Harry woke the blonde up by giving her naked bum a squeeze (which was still propped up in the air).
"M-huh?" she said groggily.
"Am I an evil person?" he asked Luna.
With her head still buried in the pillows (and her arse in the air), she asked for clarification sleepily; "Mm-wha?"
"Am I a bad person?" he repeated while still massaging Luna's bottom.
"No, you're the greatest," she said.
"See that," Harry said to the bound brunette (the blonde was purring, thanks to his hand rubbing her backside). "Luna says I'm not evil. Therefore, your argument that only evil people want to control others is flawed."
"It's wrong, Harry," Hermione persisted.
"You know what, you're just a little upset over this whole 'this world's Harry got swapped for another world's Harry'thing," Harry said casually.
"Yes, I'm upset over that. But it's still wrong to want to control people," Hermione argued. "It's a sign of a megalomaniac."
"And being a megalomaniac is a bad thing?" he asked.
"Yes, because it is wrong," Hermione concluded.
Harry sighed disappointedly. He reached for his wand and waved it at Hermione. A rope appeared from the ceiling over the brunette's head; it reached down and tied itself around the back of the chair. Without warning, Hermione and the chair were hoisted into the air.
"What are you doing?" demanded Hermione as she slowly rotated two feet off the ground.
"Obviously, you need some time to concoct a better argument than 'because it's wrong,'" Harry ordered. "You have two hours."
"What? You're leaving me like this?" screeched Hermione.
"Yes, it's for your own good," he said, and swatted Luna on her bum. "Get up, poppet."
"Huh, why?" groaned Luna, "'m tired."
"Too bad, you need to go find a tailor so we can all get proper clothes. And I'm going to catch up on some history," Harry said.
"What's Hermione going to do?" Luna asked as she stretched like a cat (shoving her nude bottom even further up).
"Oh, she's just going to hang around here," Harry said with a smile.
"That's bloody hilarious," Hermione said with no humor as she continued to slowly spin in mid-air. "You're a regular comedian."
--Line Break--
"Nice place you got 'ere, guv. Very swank," the old witch said as she trudged into the parlor of Malfoy Manor.
"Yes, it is," Lucius Malfoy stated as he reminded himself to magically disinfect anything she touched. He turned his back on his "guest" and called up the stairs, "Draco, come down here, please."
A few moments later, the pale blond-haired boy trotted down the stairs. "Yes, father, wh-- GOOD LORD! WHAT'S THAT?"
"Draco, don't be rude to our guest," Lucius scolded (even though he himself had the same reaction upon seeing the witch).
"It's alright, guv, 'appens all tha time wit' me," the witch replied with a smile (proudly showing the two remaining, albeit green, teeth in her skull).
"Draco, please say hello to the woman who will make you a man," Lucius introduced the witch.
"What do you mean?" the boy asked.
Lucius was about to reply with some elegantly chosen words, but the witch answered before he could.
"I'm a 'ore and I 'ere ta shag ya," she said, and her tongue (which was less pink and more purple with brown spots) slid out of her mouth and licked her lips (which were more like a set of wrinkly prunes) sensuously (or more accurately, nauseatingly). "Normally, I'm a four sickle 'ore, but yer dad 'ere offered me two galleons ta shag ya. I couldn't say no, now could I?"
"Wh-what?" Draco stammered in fear.
"Draco, listen to me; I know she isn't easy on the eyes... or the nose, but I was in a rush, and she was the only one I could find," Lucius explained. Because of his status as an escaped Death Eater, Lucius couldn't go to Lady Marmalade's (the finest brothel in England with gorgeous witches aplenty), so he had to settle on hiring the first whore he stumbled across in the shadows of Knockturn Alley. "The Dark Lord is desperate for virgins to sacrifice, and there are rumors that he will start taking his followers' children if none are found. You are my son, and I can't let that happen to you."
"I can't, Father," Draco replied.
"You have to. Your life depends on it," Lucius said firmly.
"No, I mean 'I can't' as in I don't think I can physically do it with... that," Draco said with a frown. He eyed the whore with disgust. Even though she was wearing a robe (which looked to be rat-infested), Draco assumed that the witch had flat tits that sagged to her knees. And she was also giving off an odd smell that reminded him of someone boiling cabbage in an outhouse on a hot summer day. In short, when Draco had said that he couldn't physically perform the deed, he meant that he not only didn't have an erection (also known as a "woodie") but, in fact, had the reverse (called a "hiddie").
"Don't worry, Draco, your Father has what you need," he gave his son a squeeze on his shoulder before heading up the stairs. "Let me fetch it from my lavatory."
A minute later, Lucius returned with a vial in his hand.
"Drink this," he commanded and gave the vial to Draco. "It's an arousal potion."
"Father," pleaded Draco as he looked in horror at the whore.
"You must do this, Draco, I cannot bear to see you used as a sacrifice for the Dark Lord," Lucius implored. "If we had more time, I'd get you a proper woman. But time is a luxury we don't have. Your life depends upon this."
Draco continued to look at the wretched witch. He weighed his options; either refuse to have sex with this poor excuse of a woman or die. Or have sex with this poor excuse of a woman and live. It was a very tough decision. With his hand trembling in fear and apprehension, Draco brought the arousal potion to his lips (the dying option had almost won out in the end).
"Now take her up to your room, son, and become a man," Lucius said to Draco as compassionately as he could.
"This'll be the easiest two galleons I ever earned," the whore said with her toothless (save for two) smile as she trudged up the stairs behind Draco.
"Be brave, son," encouraged Lucius as Draco and the whore walked out of sight. "Be brave."
--Line Break--
"But, Harry couldn't have possibly killed Fudge," protested Arthur to everyone gathered in the Headmaster's office. "It's not in him to kill anybody."
"But Fudge was murdered. And Harry claimed to be the one who did it, according to your daughter," Moody stated grumpily. "I don't like it myself, but I doubt that it's just an innocent coincidence."
"Could someone have used Polyjuice? You know, they could've gotten some hair from him, killed the Minister, arrived at the Burrow to brag about it and frame him," offered Tonks, desperately trying to clear Harry of any wrongdoings.
"It's a long shot," Kingsley said.
"Headmaster, what should we do?" asked Arthur.
"We have to find Harry," Dumbledore said. "We'll search Diagon Alley, the school and the surroundings, Hogsmeade, and the Shrieking Shack. Once we find the boy, we'll sort this all out."
"We'll start on the castle and the grounds," Moody said, indicating himself, Arthur, Tonks, and Kingsley. "Albus, you contact the rest of the Order and have them search the rest of your list."
Shortly after the four left Dumbledore, the flames in the fireplace turned green once more. Snape stepped out with his head hanging low.
"There were two virgins, a man and a woman, in the Dark Lord's custody. With the aid of some love potions, their virginity was taken away," Snape informed, and he shivered in shame.
"It's a pity that you had to force the man and woman on each other to save their lives, but it was for the greater good," Dumbledore said.
Snape's eyes grew wide in shock. 'Force the man and woman on each other? Why didn't I think of that?' he thought morosely. A part of him could still feel the woman's thin legs wrapped around his hips. As disturbing as that memory was, the lingering feeling of the Muggle man's hands as he steadied Snape's hips for his entry into the Potions Master's rectum troubled him more.
"At least you were able to delay Lord Voldemort from summoning his duplicate," the Headmaster continued, oblivious to Snape's shame. "Were you able to save the victims?"
"Yes, sir," he answered, trying to forget the nauseating sensation of the pear-shaped man panting in his ear and thrusting against Snape's bum. "I told the Dark Lord that I had performed the Virginitas Charm and confirmed that they had previously lost their virginities. I was then charged with disposing of the'sacrifices.' I led them back to a nearby village and freed them, but the Dark Lord believes I killed the two."
"Good, good," congratulated Dumbledore. "Who knows what type of havoc Voldemort could have caused if he performed the Summoning ritual with impure blood again."
Then, like a bolt of lightning, Dumbledore came to a rather shocking revelation. The havoc of that tainted ritual was running around right now. "Oh, Bugger," he muttered.
--Line Break--
As Lucius waited for the necessary (yet nasty) act of his son losing his virginity to end, a knock on the front door drew his attention. He opened the door to find Rhys Parkinson and his daughter, Pansy.
"Good afternoon, Rhys. What brings you here?" Lucius greeted him in a happy but formal fashion.
"I need to have a word with you, Lucius," Parkinson requested.
"Now is not the best time," the blonde wizard said politely. Lucius didn't want his fellow Death Eater or his daughter to see the whore as she exited Draco's room.
"This is urgent," begged Rhys. "I'll make it worth your time."
"Fine, come in," Lucius acquiesced.
"Pansy, dear, wait in the parlor, my sweet," Rhys said lovingly.
"What's this about?" demanded Lucius after the young witch left.
"I've heard some rumors that say the Dark Lord may be snatching up our children for some sort of virgin sacrifice," Parkinson said.
"Let's say this is true, I think it would be an honor to give one's child to our Master," Lucius said haughtily.
"Come off it, Lucius. You know I'm a Death Eater in name only. I'm no killer or fighter, I only became a Death Eater because my wife liked bad boys when we were first dating, and it was a good way to get in her skirt," Rhys returned. "There's no way in hell I'm giving over my daughter to the Dark Lord."
"What do you want me to do about it?" Lucius asked.
"If my little girl isn't a... virgin," Rhys said with some difficulty. "Well, then, the Dark Lord won't be interested in using her as a sacrifice. And seeing that your boy is the same age as my daughter..."
"True," agreed Lucius. Even though he knew what his fellow Death Eater was requesting, Lucius wanted to see him squirm a bit. "What are you suggesting?"
"You're a berk, you know that," Rhys said bitterly, knowing that Lucius was toying with him. "I want Draco to take my daughter's virginity in order to save her life."
"Let me get this straight: you want me to use my son like a common prostitute?" Lucius asked in false offence.
"I'll give you ten galleons," offered Rhys.
"Deal," Lucius said and shook his hand.
"I haven't told my little girl what I was doing," Rhys said nervously. "I don't think she'll be too keen on the idea of this. You know how some girls are; they want their first time to be special and romantic."
"Don't worry, I have some potions that will make her more agreeable to the situation," Lucius stated.
"Good, now if you don't mind, I'll take my leave," Rhys said, heading for the door. "I don't want to be in the same house when my little girl is deflowered."
After Rhys left, Lucius headed up the stairs. He knocked on his son's door softly.
"Come in," the whore replied.
Lucius entered to find the whore dressed and smoking a cigarette that let out a thick green smoke. Draco was on the bed, clutching his legs to his chest, and his eyes were wide in shame and disgust.
"Is it done?" Lucius asked the witch.
"Oh, yeah, firsties are always done right quick," the witch smiled.
"Fine, I'll make you a Porktey so you can leave," Lucius said.
"Oh, you don't want anyone ta see me leave, do ya?"
"Precisely."
After the whore left, Lucius told Draco of the situation (well, most of it; he left out the ten galleon deal).
"Father, I fancy Pansy and all, but I don't think I can do it just now," admitted Draco.
"I have a potion for that, too, Draco," Lucius smiled.
A few minutes later, after Lucius had given Draco and Pansy their different potions and as his son was in the process of taking the girl's innocence, another knock on the front door drew Lucius' attention. When he opened the door, he found Francis Bulstrode and his daughter, Millicent, standing on his porch.
"I need your son to pop my daughter's cherry," Francis offered brutishly.
"I can always count on you, Francis, to be direct," Lucius drawled.
"I'll give you ten galleons," Francis said.
"Deal, just give my son a few minutes to freshen up."
--Line Break--
For two full hours, Hermione hung in the air tied to the chair, two feet off the ground. During the first hour, she could think of nothing besides what type of curses she would use on Harry when he returned. Since the ropes burned against her skin, perhaps she would use something that would cause his skin to burn. Or maybe she would just conjure up a frying pan and beat him with it, much like she had done with Ron. But then, after her anger at Harry subsided, she pondered over his challenge.
When Harry and Luna finally returned from their separate tasks, he walked up to Hermione and asked, "Have you come up with a better argument?"
While still slowly rotating, she answered, "Yes. I believe that people are smart enough to lead their own lives. Also, it is in our nature to be free, to live our lives the way we see fit. Throughout history, humankind has overthrown despots who tried to rule their lives because it is our nature to rule our own lives the way we want." She smiled, knowing in her heart that Harry could not argue against her well-thought-out conclusion.
"Wrong. People are sheep," returned Harry. "They beg, or bleat rather, for someone to tell them what to think, eat, wear, and when to sleep. When I was going through some of your recent periodicals, I came across an interesting example of this. Look at the World Cup of that game you lot have in this world; Quidditch."
"You don't have Quidditch?"
"No, our favorite game is 'Throw the Big Rock at the Imbecile,'" he answered. "But back to my point. Hundreds of people ran from twelve Death Eaters after the match was over. The Death Eaters were outnumbered at least ten to one, yet everyone ran away from them."
"But most, if not all, of those people who ran knew no Defensive spells," Hermione maintained. "The Death Eaters are trained killers. Those people couldn't have fought against them."
"Tell me, who is the least talented or skilled of your peers?"
Hermione thought for a moment. At first, she was about to answer with Neville. But the boy had made some improvements over the last year. He wasn't the best by far, but he wasn't completely horrible anymore. So she offered, "Colin Creevey."
"Can this Colin fellow cast a Leg-Locker Curse?"
"Of course," Hermione replied with a scoff of annoyance. "Everyone can."
"Everyone, you say?" Harry smiled as if he had won the argument already. "Do you know what would happen to someone if they were hit with a dozen Leg-Locker Curses within a five-second period?"
"Oh," Hermione said in realization. Some hexes had a cumulative effect. Such as the time Harry, Ron, and she had hit Snape with three Expelliarmus; instead of simply disarming the Potions Master, they had successfully thrown him across the room and knocked him out.
"There would be a good chance that the person would have their legs severely broken, if not torn off," he said, answering his own question smugly. "Even combinations of different prank hexes have devastating effects."
Hermione recalled how Draco and his goons had been turned into giant slugs on the train just a few days previously after being hit with a bevy of simple hexes.
"Those Death Eaters could've easily been taken care of with simple childish pranks," concluded Harry.
"But the Death Eaters could've blocked the hexes," challenged Hermione as she slowly revolved in mid-air.
"How many could they have blocked? Ten? Twenty? Perhaps, but certainly not a hundred hexes. But that isn't the point, really. The point is that the people who ran didn't have a leader to tell them to fight back, so they didn't. What they had was a small group of Death Eaters telling them to run in fear. Those witches and wizards listened, like the sheep that they are, to this order and ran in fear. Basically, the Death Eaters were their leaders at that point, and the people were more than willing to comply with their orders."
"But that was just one instance," Hermione argued.
"I have dozens more," he returned. "Would you like to hear them?"
"Uh, do I have to listen to them while I'm tied up?" Hermione asked.
"Do the ropes hurt?" he asked sincerely.
"Yes," she said with a frown.
Harry waved his wand, and Hermione was slowly lowered to the floor. Once all four of the chair's legs touched the ground, he waved his wand again, and the ropes vanished. Hermione rubbed the red welt on her left wrist.
"Let me take care of that," offered Harry. Gently, he took her hand in his and brought it up to his lips. He pressed his lips softly to her tender skin.
"Does that feel better?" he asked.
"No," she said and tried to stop the blush that was threatening to show on her face.
"Ah, then I'm not trying hard enough," he said and returned to kissing her, rubbed-raw skin. He kissed every square inch of her left wrist before taking her right and repeating the process. When he began kissing her red, raw ankles, Hermione was biting her lip, trying to tell herself that she didn't enjoy the feeling of his lips on her skin. 'Yes,' she told herself, 'that fluttering sensation in your belly is obviously revulsion, not butterflies of anticipation.'
But when he began to open her blouse, that little voice that had urged her to fight was now making a happy purring sound. Harry discarded her blouse and began to kiss the skin of her belly where the ropes had rubbed. He finished by probing his tongue in her belly button for a good three minutes.
"Does it hurt anywhere else?" he asked while kneeling at her feet.
"No," she answered sheepishly.
"Are you certain it doesn't hurt here?" he asked and ran his fingers up the insides of her thighs under her skirt.
"A-ah, may — maybe, just a bit," Hermione said breathily.
As Harry began to kiss Hermione's thighs, Luna walked up and stood over them before asking, "Do you mind if I watch?"
"Not at all. In fact, you can take this seat," offered Harry, and scooped Hermione up into his arms and carried her over to the bed.
Over the next few minutes, Harry would ask if Hermione was hurt anywhere else. She pointed to several (very sensitive) areas, and each one in turn received tender kisses, suckles, and licks. Soon (after Hermione experienced three large, screaming orgasms), Harry informed Hermione that she would need an injection to help her feel less pain (yes, he actually referred to it as a "beef injection," but Hermione was so hot that she didn't seem to mind the cheesy line). To Harry's credit, Hermione didn't feel the pain of the rope burns once she had received said "injection."
Luna didn't have her hands bound like Hermione had when she was in the chair, so she put them to good use. Her fingers danced and probed as she watched Harry and Hermione on the bed (of course, while she was pleasuring herself, she was singing a modified nursery rhyme; "This little piggy went to the market and this little piggy got sticky...").
After they were finished (and Hermione "finished" several times, each one a bigger and better "finish" than the one before), Harry rolled off of the brunette.
"It's good that you're done now," Luna said. There was a bright glow to her face (this glow told Harry and Hermione that the blonde was "done" as well). "Madam Malkin will be here shortly to measure us for our new clothes."
"Did you hear that, Hermione? We're going to have a guest," Harry said to the glistening brunette. "We'd better get you cleaned up!"
He placed his hands on Hermione's thighs, framing her messy cunny, and said to Luna, "Could you help me clean Hermione?"
"Wait, what?" Hermione asked in disbelief. She was still dazed and hadn't quite followed what Harry had asked Luna to do. She tried to get up, but Harry's hands held her in place.
"Why?" Luna asked Harry.
"Because it would be entertaining, both for me as I watch, and for the two of you," he responded. "If you two don't like to entertain me together, I could always get two others who are less frightened of a little experimentation. I mean, you ladies are this reality's version of my favorite concubines, but if the two of you don't want any more of my talented and gifted attentions…."
Luna pondered over the veiled threat for a moment. She then shrugged her shoulders in a sign of acceptance before she hopped off the chair, scurried onto the bed, and buried her face between Hermione's legs.
Slurp!
"O-OH I'm v-very sen-sensitive r-right now!" exclaimed Hermione.
Slurp!
"Ah Oh! Did she j-just m-mm-make a s-slurping sound?" the brunette asked as she involuntarily arched her back.
Slurp!
With an impressed nod, Harry said: "Yes, yes, she did."
To Be Continued...