Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13806732.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Parvati_Patil/Harry_Potter, Harry_Potter/Original_Female_Character(s),
      Other_Relationship_Tags_to_Be_Added, Hermione_Granger/Harry_Potter
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Original_Female_Character(s), Original_Demon_Character(s),
      Hermione_Granger, Parvati_Patil, Other_Character_Tags_to_Be_Added, Ginny
      Weasley, Ron_Weasley, Lavender_Brown
  Additional Tags:
      Incubus_Harry_Potter, Impregnation, Exposition, Porn_With_Plot, Cock
      Worship, Prostate_Massage, Other_Additional_Tags_to_Be_Added, Light
      Femdom, Loss_of_Virginity
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-02-26 Updated: 2018-02-28 Chapters: 3/? Words: 21393
****** Servant of Lilu, King of Eros ******
by SugarRay
Summary
     Dumbledore bestows Lily's journal on Harry, who discovers that his
     mother's protection came at a price, one that he must pay. The Boy
     Who Lived, who only wanted to be a normal boy with a loving family,
     discovers his destiny as an Incubus.
***** Prologue: Rachel and Lilu *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
PROLOGUE
Turning the journal over in his hands again, Harry thought back to what
Dumbledore had said to him when he had bestowed it. ‘I do not believe you will
find answers here, Harry, but I… cannot presume to withhold your mother’s final
wishes.’ Smeared across the burgundy cover in hasty finger-painted ink were the
words “HE NEEDS TO KNOW.” Sirius had found it in the remains of Godric’s
Hollow, safely nestled in Harry’s bedding. Both the Grim animagus and Hagrid
believed ‘he’ to mean either Dumbledore or Harry, and had left the locked book
with the elder wizard. Dumbledore had attempted to open it numerous times
since, or so he related to Harry, but the lock seemed keyed to something else,
something specific. ‘Again, it is not my place to tell you to forget your
mother’s dying words, but… panic and pain are not what that wonderful woman
should be remembered by.’
Doubly morbid, as he’d been handed the grimoire minutes after his return from
Voldemort’s rise and the death of Cedric. Still, it had eaten at his curiosity,
time and time again. His mother’s dying wish was for him to have this book.
What was within that he had to know? And why must he know it? Squeezing his
eyes shut, Harry recalled the look on Voldemort’s face as a dark pulse had
driven the Dark Lord more than a body length away when he’d tried to approach
the teen wizard. Clearly, Riddle had believed he would be capable of touching
the young man after using his blood in the resurrection ritual, but something
had stopped the lich; maybe this book could explain just what his mother had
done to protect him.
Harry had tried to open the book a handful of times since receiving it, but
nothing had worked. He’d even pricked his finger and bled into the damn thing,
and nothing had happened. So why, now of all times, had it clicked open?
“Mmm… whatcha readin, luv?” Hands draped themselves over his shoulders as he
felt a very warm body press into his back, the woman’s modest breast pleasantly
flattening against his musculature. She brought her face to his shoulder,
kissing his neck before resting her cheek on his trapezius, her hands crossing
at the wrist in front of him. Grasping the spine of the tome in his left hand,
he reached up with his right, grasping the woman’s elbow and pulling it to meet
his face halfway, kissing her thin arm just above the joint at the bicep.
“My mother’s diary, I believe.”
“How very rude.”
“S’pose so.”
“Any particular reason being in bed with me reminded you of your mum’s diary?”
He could feel her smiling against his skin.
“No. I just heard it unlock.”
She hummed into his neck. “And here I thought you’d been developing an Oedipus
complex.”
“Cute.” He smirked. “I’d been trying to unlock it for months…”
The blonde woman slowly slid her hands down Harry’s surprisingly toned torso.
“Well, had you shown it this?” Both of her hands wrapped around his hardening
shaft. Biting his earlobe, she added. “I know it opened me right up.”
Smirking again at her comment, the sole remaining Potter turned, grabbing a
random object and stuffing it under the cover of the journal, propping it open
so it couldn’t lock itself again. Standing, he turned to her, his cock pointing
at her accusatorily. With a giggle, she leaned forward, kissing it on the head
cutely. She looked up at him, her hands on his hips, grinning and blinking
innocently.
“Look at you, trying to act all pure with the act still staining your back.”
The girl smirked lightly, leaning forward to kiss his hip bone. “I was! I was
going about my day as a decent girl, daydreaming about moving to London, when
this bad, bad boy, he just whisked me off my feet and dragged me home.” She
kissed his other hip. “I’m just another victim of the troublesome Potter thug.”
With a laugh, he pushed her to her back. “Oh, is that so, Rachel?” He had, in
fact, first met her walking down the street. He’d stopped to help her pick up
the contents of her purse, which she’d strewn about having tripped while
digging through it. As the last object was delicately taken from his hand- a
coin purse of some kind- she finally locked eyes with him, her expression
sliding from worry to an uncomfortable thankfulness. Harry had asked if she’d
been okay, and after a few more sentences, she admitted she had been rifling
through her purse purely to avoid eye contact with him. When asked if he
actually attended a school for criminals, Harry hesitated before partially
owning up to his false reputation with a non-committal ‘kinda.’ But, he
followed, just because he wasn’t above a bit of sneaking about or knicking
things, that didn’t mean he’d go groping women on the street. Her response
brought both of them to a deep, burning blush: ‘what about off the street
then?’ Less than an hour later he went from being one of the last of his
dormmates to kiss a girl to probably the first to give one an orgasm. Shortly
after that, he definitely became the first to lose his virginity.
“Well then, Miss Williams, what can this little street rat do to keep you from
turning him in?” In the last three days, Harry had rapidly developed a
confidence in his abilities. In between the panick attacks of reliving Cedric’s
last moments, he allowed himself to fall deeper and deeper into his infatuation
with making this pretty girl moan his name. Rachel was a year or two older than
him (he kept meaning to iron out details like birthdays and middle names but
kept getting distracted) and had spent much of the first day coaching him in
things she liked. The second day, after they walked to get ice cream together
to sate her desire for some sort of date, the teenage girl had been convinced
he’d lied to her about his inexperience. Harry’s ego soared through the roof as
the girl confessed in an orgasm-drunk stupor that she had never cum harder than
his second attempt at oral. They had spent every daylight hour together that
day, and he went down on her once more at dusk, in the park.
Today, the Dursleys were away, off to some company luncheon and then out to
dinner with “the big wigs” that Vernon wouldn’t shut the hell up about. And so
Harry took the opportunity to bring Rachel to a bed, specifically his. They’d
made good use of it so far, and when Rachel bit her lip and glanced down her
own body, Harry realized they were far from done. He knelt between her legs,
easing them farther apart before leaning down to kiss the girl’s trim stomach,
tracing light kisses down past her navel to her neatly groomed pubis. Looking
up at her, he allowed his hot breath to roll over her wet lips, closing his
lips to a tight circle to blow a more concentrated stream of cooler air at her
sensitive nub at the top of her slit. Abruptly he moved his head to her left
knee, and as he kissed there, he heard her groan in light frustration. He
nipped and licked his way down her thigh, kissing the soft skin, taking as long
as he could while still being in motion. Soon he was licking at the crease of
her thigh, planting wet kisses centimeters away from her labia, closing in each
time, the corner of his lips pressed to her swollen vulva, her breath hitching
in anticipation…
His next kiss was planted firmly in the middle of her right thigh. Rachel
growled in frustration, finally reaching down and grabbing Harry’s messy hair
with both hands, pressing his face where she wanted it to be. To her chagrin,
however, the boy was anything but done with his teasing. Chuckling, he placed
soft kisses against her wet lips, his hands slowly running up her thighs,
propping them up on his shoulders. The girl’s hands twisted, pulling a dull
ache from his scalp, but this did nothing to dissuade him. Using his tongue to
trace slowly along the outside of her swollen labia, he manipulated the flesh
without actually tasting her directly. Long, slow licks, gradually rising from
the flat of his tongue until he was ghosting the tip of the pink muscle just
millimeters from her needy clitoris. Finally, he placed his puckered lips
against her hood, pressing a loud kiss against her most sensitive spot.
And then proceeded to stare at her from there, until she groaned. “Haaarrrryyy,
pleeease.” Rachel’s eyes were closed, her back almost undulating, trying to
hump her hips up into his face, seeking friction. Smiling, Harry finally gave
in. He parted his lips against hers, pressing his tongue out to lap at her, the
tip of the muscle flicking over her clit before he retracted it, sucking firmly
on the tiny nub. Hearing her gasp urged him to continue, lapping at her folds
with long licks, he pushed his tongue into her opening, wiggling the dexterous
muscle against her slick tunnel. He began slowly shaking his head, grinding the
tip of his nose against her clit, trying to pleasure as much of her at once as
possible. Her body began undulating in truth, grinding herself into his mouth
and nose as she gasped out loud, aggressively seeking her own pleasure. Harry
slid his hands under her ass, propping her up, holding her above the bed on his
elbows, allowing him to push his tongue deeper into her, and both parties
ground her sensitive button into his slightly pliable cartilage. Pulling his
tongue from inside her, he licked upward, before sucking at her clit almost
roughly, before he began lapping and sucking at her flesh rapidly, forcefully.
Suddenly Rachel was yanking his hair, trying to pull him up her body.
“Oh, God, fuck me, Harry, I need it inside.”
With a long, forceful drag of her pussy, he pulled away, his hand replacing his
lips on her clit. He looked up at her, hesitant, and she matched his gaze,
panting in lust. “I don’t have any more rubbers.”
“I don’t care. I need it, I need you.”
Rachel had told him early on that she was on the pill, but she had insisted on
condoms anyway, as you ‘couldn’t be too careful.’ Harry reasoned that she must
be spectacularly horny in order to walk back on something she’d been rather
obstinate about. “You’re sure?” She nodded coyly. Harry watched her for another
few seconds before dipping his face down, taking a long suck and quick kiss on
her swollen lips once more before quickly kissing up her body. Pressing his
impressive length to her dripping opening, he looked her in the eyes. Just as
he prepared to voice his question, asking once more if she was sure, she
brought her heels to his back, pushing him forward, while humping her hips into
his. His question died in his throat as a moan shoved past it and out of his
lips as the first third of his cock buried within the girl’s wet heat.
“God, you feel so much better this way. I’ve wanted to feel your skin against
mine since the first time.” That was news to the dark haired boy. Rather than
linger on her declaration, he began pushing more of himself into her,
stretching her for the third time today, but feeling her slick arousal bare for
the first time. His breath was shallow and warm against her neck as he adjusted
to the increased sensations, slowly pushing in as deep as he could reach,
pulling a grunt of satisfied discomfort from the blonde girl. Harry hesitated,
looking down into her eyes, waiting for her confirmation for him to move.
Rachel’s nod led him to slowly start pumping his hips, working with long, deep
strokes, pulling more than half of his manhood free, leaving her filled as much
as either of her previous lovers that way, before powerfully pushing back in.
It wasn’t hard for the girl to imagine the boy was remolding her, and briefly
she questioned how this young boy was beyond competition with years of growth
ahead of him. Her nails found his back, dragging them across the toned muscle
so out of place on one his age, nearly drawing blood. His heated grunt made her
exhale amusedly, before her breath was stolen by a rough thrust.
“Fuck Harry, I love this, I love your giant cock.” Rachel opened her eyes she
hadn’t even knowingly closed, staring into his gorgeous green pair. “Give it to
me.” Her hands slid down the small of his back, her nails digging into the taut
muscle of his ass, feeling him flex as he fucked her. “I need it, Harry, I need
to feel you fill me.” That pulled a moan from the boy, and she felt him twitch
inside her. She responded with a gasping chuckle as she worked her walls around
him, gripping him as he tried to maintain control.
“But. You-“
“Fuck what I said earlier, I need it, I need you.” The girl leaned up, gripping
the boy’s shoulder with her teeth as that sentence drove him to bottom out
harshly in her. As he tried to gather himself, she felt his breath on her
shoulder, blasting out of his nostrils like an angry animal, a bull nearly
beyond control. Pulling back, she kissed his neck, his jaw, his lips. Pressing
her forehead to his, she waited for his eyes to open again. “I want your cum
inside me.”
Harry broke. The teenager could not control the seemingly instinctual urge
she’d pulled from him as his hips started to piston into the girl. Slamming
deep, they both groaned as his unsustainable pace brought them both a strained
pleasure. Her cervix bearing the brunt of her discomfort, his body already
overworked and sore but finding just enough in reserve to keep his powerful
muscles firing. Rachel’s eyes rolled back as she dropped her head back, moaning
to her deity of the pleasure as his obscene tool ground into her clit’s
sensitive internal counterpart, only for his prominent ridge to clip it again
on the way out. The deep thrusts were unsustainable to be sure, but Harry held
out beyond his own limited understanding, and blew Rachel’s expectations away
yet again. Having expected him to wear out and blow within a few moments of
beginning his rapid pace, she’d been holding back her orgasm in order to share
it with his. Minutes later, he was still fucking her harder and faster than her
previous lovers had ever been capable, longer than they’d been capable of
sustaining their best, and so she lost control of herself.
As her orgasm crested, she fell back to the bed, moaning barely coherently, “I
love you, fuck, I love you.” With that, and her clenching insides, Harry felt
the familiar tingle run up his spine. Thrust. An obscenity. Thrust. Her name.
And then he drove himself deep, and shuddered as he emptied himself into her,
filling her with rope after rope, before collapsing, half on top of her, half
beside her.
-=-=-
After they’d enjoyed a few minutes of afterglow, Harry started to ask a
question, but Rachel quickly silenced him with a kiss. She muttered that they
shouldn’t talk, that she knew she shouldn’t have said what she did and hushed
down his attempts to assure her otherwise. Pointing to her knowledge that boys
didn’t like that word, she hoped he’d not be scared away by her accidental
admission. Harry managed to get as far as the word “I” before she clapped a
hand over his mouth, a sudden, strange desperation in her eyes.
“Don’t say it, not now when it’s just because I said it. If you say it to me,
to anyone… make sure you mean it.”
They’d returned to cuddling, affection and warmth oddly at peace alongside
shame and guilt. But teenagers are never allowed to have more than a few
passionate hours to themselves, and with the Dursley’s due back soon, Rachel
soon left.
So Harry returned to the diary. As he pulled one of Rachel’s socks from the
book, the random object he’d propped it open with, he dropped it to the floor
with a shrug. Sitting on his bed, which still reeked of sex, Harry read through
what turned out to be mostly gibberish. The first few dozen pages were
completely unintelligible, but with a deep frown, the boy sat down, tracing his
eyes over every ‘word’ within, searching for some meaning. Eventually, he began
to notice patterns, similar “words” repeating occasionally. After very little
effort to decipher what he suspected to be some kind of code, the boy gave it
up as a lost cause but resolved to show it to Hermione. Perhaps his genius
friend could root out the pattern. In frustration, Harry flipped through the
rest of the journal, searching for something he could understand. The abrupt
stoppage of text filled the orphan with a pang of muted pain, his subconscious
offering up the reason while his consciousness actively ignored it.
Then, near the middle, after a handful of empty pages, again in smeared ink
like on the cover, the words “I’m sorry” finger-painted on the left page, with
a Latin phrase on the opposing side. The young wizard read the phase aloud,
nearly fumbling over the language he knew exclusively through spellcasting.
“Ego rogo conloquium cum Rex de Affectio.”
 “Finally.”
Harry jumped to his feet, spinning around to look at the person who spoke from
directly behind him. ‘Person’ appeared to be a generous term. The humanoid now
before him was pulling himself from inside the bed, somehow. It was almost as
if he had broken the surface of a pool, and then placed his hands on the water
to pull himself out. Disconcerting to behold, and Harry found himself very
concerned as to how this… man had gotten into his room, much less crawled form
INSIDE his mattress.
The intruder’s long arms stretched to their fullest, allowing him to pull his
legs up from the portal, for lack of a more appropriate term, and he briefly
held them at a right angle to his torso, out toward Harry, holding a gymnast’s
pose for a few seconds. Dropping himself to the now solid bed, the otherworldly
being allowed his left foot to find the floor, his right propped onto his knee,
smiling happily. Harry stared, on edge despite the creature’s jovial
expression, as the man smoothed his dark hair back between the horns sprouting
from his forehead, the width of three of Harry’s fingers, curving closely to
the creature’s head, tapering to a point somewhere behind his ears. One hand
adjusted and smoothed out the long, loose tunic hanging from one shoulder to
clothe the demon before it fell to his leg, resting, while his other hand
reached out to Harry, clearly offering a handshake, but not leaning forward to
do so, in essence prompting the young wizard to approach.
Harry, swallowing his fear, was bold enough to do so, after a handful of
heartbeats. Reaching out with his right hand, he forced himself to maintain eye
contact, more than slightly perturbed by the mirth in the demon’s impossibly
blue irises. Harry’s larger than average hand was all but swallowed up by the
huge palms of the demon, and the wizard found himself quite taken aback at the
warmth radiating from the creature’s skin.
“Pleased to finally meet you, young Harry. I’ve been waiting for this for quite
some time.” The demon retracted his hand, folding it together with his other
and resting them in his lap, seemingly careful to maintain a since of civility;
Harry could not help but find himself regarding the man as friendly. “I am
known as Lilu.” Harry’s only response was a blink, to which Lilu only smiled.
“My name was never quite as known as my sister’s, I know. Now, before I begin,
do you have any immediate questions?”
“More than I can mention.”
“Fair enough, Harry. Let me go through the largest concerns, and you can ask
whatever you’d like me to clarify. Agreed?” The wizard nodded after a moment,
and Lilu’s face took a bittersweet tone as he began. “Your mother, Lily Potter,
was a scholar. She sought to understand the magic of love, and in her
explorations, found me. Now, you have to understand what very few wizards of
the age seem to- there is another world than yours.” His voice was rich, his
tone confident, but patient. “That world is where I hail, and it is a mirror of
this one, in many ways. It is where magic originates. There is a physical
separation between the two, which some refer to as the veil. Wizards and
witches, and other magical beings, sift magic through the veil, pulling through
what they need and using it. The realm, or ‘Kingdom’ as some of your
predecessors thought of it, that I inhabit is that of Love. Ergo, magic
relating to love originates from the equivalence of my ‘territory,’ follow?”
Slowly, Harry nodded, for the most part understanding.
Lilu grinned with approval. “Very good. Now, the very first scholars to learn
of my existence mistook me as a king. While I do wield considerable power
amongst my people, I am but one of a handful that claim such; the closest
equivalent I could claim is that of an ‘elder,’ by my estimation. Still, their
superstitious beliefs led to a large misunderstanding. As such, when your
mother discovered me and my siblings ‘ruling’ the realm of love magic, she was
very disappointed, but after I slowly gained her trust, she saw that I was not
the ‘demon’ that I was written to be. Her discovery that familial, friendly,
and erotic or lustful love all originate in the same magic was, in her opinion,
going to change the nature of the Magical world. Specifically, she pointed to a
greater acceptance of love-based magicks and, more to the point, certain
magical creatures.
“Sadly, this is where the lesson turns grim.” Lilu frowned, his voice dropping
to a sentimental tone. “She had, in one of our conversations, admitted that she
was under threat of death, and more importantly, so was her family. I saw an
opportunity to help her gain some peace of mind, while helping to move forward
my own goals as well.” Harry, who had been engrossed in the story so far, begin
to feel his bile rise, anger coming forth at the idea of this demon abusing his
mother’s trust; Lilu immediately placated him. “I told her immediately that I
was not being purely altruistic, that the solution I offered was benefitting me
and mine as much as herself. I offered to give protection to any member of her
family she wished, but that I’d need to place some of my magic within them. She
turned me down, and I understood her reasons.
“Then, a few weeks later, she summoned me. In a panic, your mother asked what
kind of protection I could offer. I explained that I could only protect those I
had imparted with my magic, a double edged sword, and also that my power was
tied to intent, that I could manifest an amount of intent into an equal amount
of will.” Harry’s eyes widened, suddenly knowing where this revelation was
taking him, and Lilu’s slid closed, either in shame or pain. “She consented to
the protections, and told me to manifest her intent.”
‘Then she put herself between me and Voldemort.’ Harry felt like he was going
to retch, and Lilu gave him a moment to grieve.
“Her intent was so strong that her will protects you to this day.” His voice
was sad now, both comforting and irritating Harry. “She was an impressive
being.” The demon gave Harry a few moments to gather his thoughts. “You may be
wondering just what this means for you.” The young wizard finally dragged his
eyes back to Lilu. “I’ll put it bluntly. You’re an Incubus, Harry.”
Chapter End Notes
     No other OCs will be in this story, just Rachel and Lilu. Updates
     will be sporadic. I plan to explore the nature of (my version of)
     Succubae and Incubi as a sort of demi-demon/magical creature. Harry
     will not grow horns or a tail. Every chapter will include smut. I
     will elaborate on the nature of the magical realm and the veil. I
     hope to capture how Harry feels about his situation, as well as some
     of his friends’ takes on the issue. Those are the goals, anyway. Next
     chapter will include a conversation with Lilu, a conversation with
     Hermione, and smut- notably not with Hermione.
***** Young, Dumb, Selfish *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry remembers a conversation with Lilu, a confrontation with
     Rachel, and confiding in Hermione, before blowing off some steam with
     his Yule Ball date.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Harry James Potter sat in his favorite armchair in the Gryffindor common room,
face in the direction of the fire, his eyes unfocused. Three conversations rang
though his skull, banging off of each other, each casting doubt and blame on
one another, the cacophony of the three voices educating him, consoling him,
and berating him slowly being drowned out by the white noise hiss of his
consciousness damn near disconnecting.
Blinking himself back into focus, he ran through the conversations again, in
chronological order.
-=-=-
“An Incubus?” Harry had been incredulous, staring at Lilu.
Nodding, the horned man explained. “You are a manifestation of love magic. An
anchor, a bridge between my world and this one. Which is why your mother’s
intent was able to manifest so potently. She made a gesture out of pure,
familial love to protect an entity that is a literal conduit to the source of
love-based magic. The resonance was pure, and therefore, her will keeps you
safe from Voldemort to this day, and likely forever.
“However, there are some other issues with your gift that you should know.”
Holding up a single hand, Lilu gestured to the chair at Harry’s desk, and it
pulled out and shuffled itself across the carpet, coming to a stop at the
wizard’s side, in front of the man in the tunic on his bed. “Please, I think
you’ll prefer to sit. This may take some time.
“Firstly, as I mentioned, the realm of love is largely divided three ways;
familial love, friendship love, and erotic love. There is some spillover,
depending on how relationships are defined; for instance, friendship and erotic
love used to be very blurry in ancient times, particularly in warrior-cultures.
I, myself, oversee the realm of erotic love. That is, the love of a sexual
partner. Lust is a large part of the intent that my realm feeds on, though that
can spill over into the other realms of passion. But I digress.
“Secondly, understanding that my world exists as a reflection of your world’s
intent, I’m sure it shouldn’t shock you that denizens on my side have some
interest in… exerting agency on your side of the veil.”
Harry frowned, head tilting imperceptibly. “You mean you try to control us?”
“A bit harsher than any of us would say, outside a handful of the mind-magic
realms, anyway. We look at it more as foreign relations, to use non-wizard
terminology. Very occasionally some of us can come to this world, but we are
usually mistaken for demons or angels and the trips are oftentimes counter-
productive. This is my first actual manifestation in this realm this
millennium, and I could only exist here because you summoned me.”
“Didn’t my mother summon you?”
“Lily attempted to summon me, but could only open a communication portal twice,
and a crude veil-tear in order to allow my magic through to gift it to you. And
those were incredibly taxing on her. You can summon me so long as,” Lilu raised
his hands, using airquotes, “’love is in the air,’ so to speak.” His half-grin
nearly drove Harry to roll his eyes. “Any of the Ubus could summon me with
ease, if they were to find the correct spell, or even just will it hard
enough.” The overseer of lust sighed dramatically. “It’s heartbreaking, you
know, the grandkids never call.”
The wizard cocked an eyebrow, asking the one word question, “Grandkids?”
Lilu perked up, smoothing his tunic over his knees. “Yes, I was explaining our
interest in influencing your world. You see, many of the races you refer to as
‘Magical Creatures’ are in fact descended from denizens of our world. The first
Ubus were my creations. I made them when I used to frequently visit this side
of the veil.
“The succubae have largely remained the same, cultivating love and lust,
consuming it and transferring it to our realm as magic. However, every succubus
is almost completely infertile. The only time a succubus ovulates is when she
mates with a compatible incubus, which has happened a number of times I can
count on one hand. This has less to do with succubus nature than it does with
incubus nature, however.
“Incubi, such as yourself, are responsible for spreading the Ubus gene. Every
child an Incubus fathers will be born as an Ubus, half male incubi, half female
succubae. These children are physical manifestations of love magic, and
therefore anchor our worlds together, vastly increasing the flow of love magic,
but because the Ubus were created on your side of the veil, they are directed
by your world’s natural order. When I created the first Ubus, the Incubi were
simple enough to not cause large problems in human society. Their magic would
find suitable mates, and through a combination of magic and pheromones, would
‘induce’ infatuation and lust into them. Given time to mature, this grew into
love, and the couple would have many Ubus children. An incubus would generally
have two or three loving, devoted partners.”
Harry visibly balked at the idea of magic induced infatuation, but Lilu carried
on without seeming to notice his unease, “However, with time, incubus nature
adapted, and evolved. As individual incubus families were… culled… by zealots,
the rare incubus who did not settle down with partners was more successful.
These roaming incubi were, prior to the shift, less effective in mating because
the infatuation and lust process took time. Again, evolution rapidly solved the
problem.” The young wizard felt an unease settle about his mind. He couldn’t
place what it was, but something about this conversation was giving him a bad
feeling. “While the subtle magic sought very compatible women, this new style
of incubus developed a wider-searching magic. The subtle pheromone balance that
induced infatuation over the span of days and lust over weeks was honed down to
the span of hours or even minutes, and in fact some especially susceptible
women can find themselves trusting an incubus after merely being within a few
feet of him. This was especially helpful as most wandering incubi were seen as
vagrants at best and dangerous criminals rather often.”
Some puzzle pieces started to fall into place for Harry. “No. She… no.”
“However, the single most impressive bit of magical adaptation was the sweat of
an incubus developing a powerful pheromone that triggers ovulation, nearly
guaranteeing pregnancy within a week of first skin-to-skin contact.”
“FUCK!”
-=-=-
Harry leaned forward, shaking his head free of the aborted conversation with
Lilu, before placing his face in his hands, allowing the next conversation to
play through his mind.
He’d sprinted out of the room, leaving countless questions unanswered in his
panic to warn Rachel. He never stopped to question what the warning would help
her with, and he didn’t think about how he was going to explain. His only
thought was on sprinting to her home. When he’d finally gotten the blonde’s
mother to permit him a few moments to speak with his girlfriend, looking into
her face, he realized that as bad as it was he didn’t have those two questions
answered, there were larger problems as well.
Namely, the way Rachel’s eyes lit up in happiness as they fell on him, only to
fade into confusion within seconds. Still he leaned in to kiss her, as they’d
greeted each other that morning, only for her to pull away. He raised an
eyebrow and she gestured toward her door, the young incubus taking that to mean
she didn’t want to throw him in her mother’s face, as it were. Still, she
seemed agitated.
“What’s wrong?”
“I… Nothing, what do you want, Harry?”
Lowering his voice, he tried to let on to his sense of urgency without coming
off panicked. “It’s about this afternoon, about… what we did.” His vision
flitted to Rachel’s door, wondering if her mother was pressed to the door,
eavesdropping.
She rolled her eyes, exasperated. “Yes, it was just a few hours ago, I
remember.” A sudden look of comprehension dawned on her. “Ooh, alright, I see.”
Harry raised his eyebrows, confused as to her nonchalance that bordered on
condescension. “Look, I know what I said was… hasty, but you didn’t have to
come knock down my door to tell me you weren’t ready for that kinda thing.”
Rachel released an exaggerated huff of a sigh, twisting the knife, “I mean this
whole display is enough to make me think I made a big mistake.”
Harry almost flinched back, the heated words from a girl he’d been so intimate
with almost physically stunning him. He quickly gathered himself, confused, but
dead-set on his original goal, to warn her. “That’s not it. I needed to… to
warn you, I guess.” She cocked a single eyebrow, curious, but unconvinced of
his intentions. “You… oh Merl- I think I got you preg-” her hands shot out,
suddenly covering his mouth as she hissed for him to be quiet, her eyes widened
in a panic, before suddenly narrowing, not out of irritation, but true anger.
Rachel’s voice was a whisper, but it tattooed Harry’s skull. “You childish
little…” She shoved him, both hands into both of his shoulders, pushing him
back away from her house. “You’re this petty? You show up cuz you’re scared of
a word and try to get me riled up?” She shoved him again, her voice still an
acid whisper. “Hoping I’ll panic and run? Hoping my parents will take me to a
clinic and lock me in my room so you don’t have to see me anymore?” She shoved
him again, this time the hardest of the bunch, and he was forced to take
multiple steps back.
“No, Rachel, why would I want that?”
“I don’t know!” It was her first outburst with any volume, but she quickly
brought her voice down to a whisper again, lacking none of the edge. “I don’t
know why you’re so damn scared of a word that you’d show up here and just try
to… to fuck with my head like that.” She sighed, running her hands over her
face in a visible effort to calm down. Harry was afraid to speak, she seemed…
brittle, at the moment.
Rachel’s quiet chuckle nearly made the wizard jump, and without raising her
eyes to his, she explained in a voice full of false mirth, “What’s really
strange, what’s really fucking with my head- not that the last few days haven’t
been just you, and I guess my fucked up libido, fucking with my head day and
night- is that just not even half an hour ago, I was thinking about how much
I’d love a kid, especially with your eyes.”
Harry simply stared, this whole situation had gone nightmarish from the start
and he had no earthly idea how to handle it. She started again, a tense, forced
calm in her normally mischievous, sweet tone. “Alright. For starters, and I
didn’t think you were such an imbecile I’d have to explain this to you, but
there’s no way I could be pregnant. I’m on the pill, and it’s been less than a
day since you… did what you did. More importantly, I’m an imbecile. The moment
I saw you, I was infatuated, with those eyes and your reputation… and then when
you turned out to not be a total dick, I guess… I guess the whiplash of it
tricked me.”
“What do you mean?” His voice was hollow, he somehow knew exactly what she
meant, down in his grey matter somewhere, but he needed to hear it, needed her
to label it for his sluggish surface thoughts.
“Christ… I don’t love you, Harry.” Deep, profound confusion rooted Harry to the
spot. “You were a good shag, and fun to be around, but we’d known each other
for days.” Rachel’s face turned sad, and if Harry had any energy left to
question things, he’d have questioned her wild emotional swings in the last few
minutes. “I got caught up in the moment. Just… it was a good weekend, alright?
Don’t be such a kid about it.” She began to make her way back up the drive,
toward her door.
“Can we see each other again?” Harry winced as the desperate words flew past
his lips before he’d known what he was saying, and then paled when he dug a
deeper hole with his follow on. “When we’re both… less emotional?”
Rachel laughed. A hollow, almost mocking laugh. As she turned to face him, her
face was twisted up in a kind of painful shame. “I doubt my boyfriend will like
that much. He’ll be back from holiday in a day or two.” Her gaze slowly drifted
off of him, past him, sliding to her left before she shook it off. “Goodbye,
Harry.”
-=-=-
Harry threw himself back into the chair, ripping himself out of the painful,
confusing memory. He’d spent the next few weeks sulking about town, careful to
avoid humanity. He’d attempted to re-summon Lilu, to no great effect. He’d
replayed the entire scenario in his head a thousand times and couldn’t make
sense of it. The dementor attack on himself and his cousin was nearly a
godsend, those few hours of insane panic managing to pull his mind away from
the entire incident, almost forgetting that he was almost assuredly well on his
way to being a father. His eyes open and unfocused, Harry allowed himself to
slip into the last major conversation that had shaped his summer.
“Harry, this is insane. If it could be corroborated at all, this could change
the entire academic understanding of magic.” Hermione had quickly deciphered
his mother’s journal, having recognized the ‘well-known’ cipher immediately.
She assured Harry that most wizards would never have seen it, and would have
just tried to spell away what they’d assume to be a cryptographic enchantment.
“Thank you so much for showing me. But I have to ask, what’s with this last
page?” Harry walked to the door, poking his head out to check for anyone
nearby, before closing it tightly. Privacy in this house was hard to come by
and harder to maintain.
“It summons an entity who calls himself Lilu.”
“The Mesopotamian demon?”
“Not important, we don’t have much time before Ron comes to find us. Hermione,
I’m an incubus.” She stared at him for a few seconds, and he could see
immediate disbelief blown away by her trust in him, and then as cogs started to
turn, she frowned.
“That’s why you wouldn’t let me hug you.” Harry nearly collapsed in relief that
she didn’t brush him off as being full of it. “How? James didn’t fit any of the
notes your mother had on the incubi.”
“Lilu passed his magic to me directly, it was how my mother saved me.”
Hermione’s head tilted, he could see her thinking again, a slight frown on her
face. “I didn’t know about it until this summer, when I met him.”
“YOU MET HIM?” Harry explained all that he could about his conversation with
his patron, and the bushy-haired genius absorbed it all with varying
expressions. When he got to the point that he ran out of the conversation,
however, he came up at a loss.
“You ran out when he mentioned ovulation?” Harry nodded. The girl’s face paled,
as her eyes expanded. “Harry… No…”
“Her name is Rachel. She should be about a month along now.”
“Merlin… how?”
“W’d’ya mean, how? How do you think?” Hermione rolled her eyes, waiting for him
to explain. With a huff, he gave in to her silent demand. “We bumped together
in the street, she started flirting with me, I flirted back, a few days later
she told me not to worry about the condom, that she was on the pill. A few
hours later I found out that I undo the pill. I went to go tell her, and she
blew up on me.”
“She was mad at you?” Another nod from the incubus. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“You’re telling me. Goes from telling me she loves me to telling me her
boyfriend is on his way home in the span of a decent quidditch match.”
“Did you ask Lilu?”
“No, I haven’t been able to summon him again.” Again, his words pulled a
curious frown from his brunette friend. Harry threw himself into the nearest
chair, resting his elbows on his knees and putting his face in his hands. “What
am I going to do, Hermione?”
“Well. There’s some upsides.” He looked up to her, wondering just where she
could find the silver lining here. She wasn’t looking at him, however, but
flipping through her deciphered copy of his mother’s journal. “For starters,
you’re going to get significantly stronger. Specifically, every… child you
father will give you a greater draw through the veil, and you definitely could
use some oompf if it’s just us against the entirety of the death eaters. And,”
She snapped the book shut, “I’m not overburdened by the urge to jump you, so at
least you know there’s some immunity to it. We may need to look into exactly
how and why though. Until then, I think your initial idea of avoiding physical
contact is… prudent.”
“Oh good, only half of the girls in my life will be supernaturally pushed into
bearing my children.”
“You’ll never flounder for a date to another ball?” Harry affixed his friend
with a withering glare, her misguided attempt at levity falling flat. She
winced, adding “I know. Alright, two major things then. Most importantly, you
have to have more questions answered. What was different about the first time
you summoned Lilu?” Harry frowned, trying to recall, but Hermione cut him off
as they both heard footsteps coming down the hall. “Think on it. In the
meantime, how’s your relationship with Fleur?”
This was when their mutual redheaded friend burst through the door. “The
Beauxbatons champion?” Ron enquired nosily. “What’d Harry wanna talk to her
for? She’s more likely to know about dealing with jealous girlfriends than war-
time grief.” The trio launched into another conversation entirely, both Harry
and Hermione pointedly avoiding letting Ron on that the Boy-Who-Lived had yet
another double edged gift in his life.
-=-=-
After several re-writes, Harry had managed to draft a letter to his Beauxbatons
counterpart that managed to ask advice in dealing with ‘admirers’ without
letting on his nature, trying to play up the fame angle. Her response was
longer and friendlier than he’d expected, and noted that she assumed he’d have
much he’d like to talk about, what with the events a few months beforehand, and
suggested that she could visit him on a weekend, if he needed advice or to talk
about Cedric.
Three conversations, all taxing, all confusing, had been pounding in his head
all day, and one potential conversation he didn’t know if he truly wanted to
have taunted him. Fleur could potentially help him deal with his inability to
control who was attracted to him, at least on how to avoid trouble with it. But
she wanted to talk about Cedric, and Voldemort, and he’d likely have to explain
his newly discovered nature. It would not be a fun conversation, to say the
least. Harry sighed, emotionally and mentally drained. This was the moment that
a curtain of dark hair came down to frame his vision, the playfully smirking
face of his yule ball date lingering upside down over his own.
“Why so glum, Harry?”
“Why so cheerful, Parvati?”
Her eyes, a deep cognac, crinkled slightly at the corners, and her lips, which
were uncharacteristically unadorned in their natural pink, twisted into a still
good-natured but slightly more mocking smile. “I never took you for a
pessimist.” She straightened, walking around to sit on the arm of his chair, a
respectable distance between them. Parvati was clearly in her sleeping clothes,
unlike Harry, who was still in his disheveled uniform, and he had to control
his urge to reach out to feel her fleece pajama pants- hot pink, much like the
gown she’d worn to the ball, but with thumbnail sized insignias spattered
about. Her faded blue shirt was loose, hanging to nearly the point that it
doubled as a dress itself, and was clearly very worn-in. “I’m happy that
someone else appears to be having trouble sleeping, generally I get lonely in
my insomnia bouts.”
“Mmm. Sleeplessness is new to me, so I guess I wouldn’t know.” Harry was struck
for a second time by how pretty Parvati was. At the ball, she’d been dolled up,
perfect makeup, gold in her hair and on her wrists, in a dress that likely cost
more than two weeks’ pay. But now she was in the opposite and was just as
striking, unflattering clothes that hid her lithe figure still came off cute,
and her long, dark hair fell past her shoulders, not pulled into her usual
plait. Her cheekbones were naturally defined, her eyes bright even without her
and Lavender’s mundane magic outlining and highlighting them, and her slightly
imperfect complexion gave her a sense of vulnerability. At the ball, she’d been
pushing for perfection; here and now, she was human. “I’m surprised you
bothered speaking to me, after…”
“After…?” They both knew what he was getting to, but she clearly wanted to hear
him say it.
“After the abysmal date I took you on.” He sighed. “You didn’t deserve that, I
was just… it was a strange time.” The Boy-Who-Lived let his gaze slide off of
her face, to the left a touch. “Not that there isn’t a strange time, for me.”
She laughed, a light, tinkling laugh, not like the loud, affected, occasionally
mean laughs she shared with her blonde conspirator. “Well I guess talking to
snakes and facing down dragons for others’ entertainment aren’t quite normal
boarding school experiences, are they?” Parvati’s smile softened again, her
relentlessly upbeat nature threatening to pull Harry out of the depressive funk
he’d just started to make comfortable. “Well I forgive you, if it makes you
feel better about it. Though Lavender would have me badger you to make it up
for me with gifts and such.” She exhaled, drawing out a long, contemplative
sigh. “Honestly, I should apologize to you, too. I played too aloof, I think-
Padma’s fault.” She drew her legs up, crossing them, perching her small body on
the wide arm of Harry’s chair, resting her elbows on her knees and propping her
cheeks on her fists. Her puffed up cheeks gave her an adorable look that pulled
the corner of the incubus’ mouth up against his will. “Said not to scare you
off with ‘fangirling’ and to ‘play it cool,’ and that definitely made me feel
like you were… put off by that. Honestly it’s kind of funny, considering how
giddy my precious sister was when I said you’d invited us. She was quite peeved
she was stuck with Ron.”
Harry raised a single eyebrow, slightly confused. “So why did she go with him
then?”
Parvati rolled her eyes, smirking again. “Better than going alone.” She locked
her brandy eyes on his emerald ones, “Besides, if she hadn’t been there to
distract him, he would’ve dragged you off to be miserable in a corn- oh wait.”
This time it was Harry’s turn to roll his eyes with a smirk, returning them to
her face to see her stick her small tongue out at him, her eyes crinkling in
mirth again. “So.” The Indian-descended girl unfolded her legs, bumping his
knee with her toe, urging him to scoot. Harry was hesitant, but couldn’t think
of a way to close the gap between ‘I’d like to let you into my personal space’
and ‘I don’t want to make you a teenage mother,’ and so, he scooted. “Why have
you been in a funk all day?” Parvati twisted, dropping her body into the chair,
her left leg hanging off correctly, but her right was still tucked under
herself, her knee resting on Harry’s thigh so that she could face him more
easily. Two voices were screeching in Harry’s mind: one that was convinced she
was trying to seduce him and that he should pull her farther onto his lap, the
other convinced that she was trying to seduce him and that he should run, far
and fast, for both their sakes.
Harry pulled his gaze away from the bright, light brown irises he kept
admiring, staring off into the embers of the fire again. Cocking his head, he
weighed his words. “Girl troubles, I suppose.”
“Oohh, goody, the Boy-Who-Lived is a broody romantic.” He playfully glared at
her, an ounce of actual irritation in him, but giving the girl the benefit of
the doubt. She laughed, again, a light, tinkling noise, not due to humor, but
almost to disarm him, to take as much of the seriousness out of the comment as
she could. “No, it’s good to see, everyone sees you as this… this icon, to see
you struggle with something as mundane as a breakup just a few months after
defeating a dragon?”
“That’s… that’s how I’m seen?”
“Oh yeah. I guess you’re used to Ron and Hermione’s perspective. Hermione tries
to tell people you’re not as other-worldly heroic as people make out, but,
intentionally or not, she does the opposite. ‘Oh, Harry isn’t Superman, he just
fought a troll with a toddler’s repertoire of spells and won. Oh, Harry’s not
fearless, he was utterly terrified of the giant murder snake he killed.’
Honestly, anyone else in this school would feint at the idea of that, and for
you two, you both act like it’s a Tuesday.” Harry laughed out loud at the
accuracy of the girl’s Hermione impression, absorbing this new perspective.
“And then, on the other side, you’ve got Ron, who I’m sure keeps you grounded,
but he tries to act so cool about being your buddy when you’re separated. It’s
funny, in a way, because in bragging himself up, he makes you look Herculean.”
She laid a hand on his chest, overjoyed to share this next bit. “Oh and the
Heir of Slytherin fiasco, Merlin, Harry, you were so… aloof, so above everyone,
it almost looked like you reveled in the hatred.” Parvati’s eyes narrowed, her
smile becoming conspiratorial. “That’s when Padma got a crush on you, actually.
That bad boy shit gets her OFF.”
Harry guffawed, slightly disbelieving that the ‘nerdy’ sister was attracted to
the anti-hero act, but Parvati insisted it was true. “I had no idea I was
acting like that. I guess the tense smile I wore came off as, what, smug?
Condescending?” The pretty girl nodded, and he shook his head lightly. “It was
killer for me. I hate feeling like I’m… the bad guy, I guess.” His smile faded
as he pictured the anger on Rachel’s face again.
Parvati’s head fell back with an exaggerated groan, bumping his arm on the top
of the backrest. “I try so hard to pull a smile out of you, and it’s gone in
less than a second.” Quickly twisting herself, Harry was caught off guard as
the petite Gryffindor was suddenly straddling his thighs, her legs so warm
against his even through their respective pants. “You really make a girl work
for it, don’t you?” Both of her hands came to his chest as she curled up,
sitting on his legs, her forearms flush to his torso. Her face was a hand’s
breadth from his, and he flicked his eyes between hers, hoping she couldn’t
read the longing or weariness in his face; the knowing glint in her own told
him his hopes were unanswered. “Maybe you’d like to hear what Lavender’s advice
for the ball was?” Her voice was low, barely a whisper, and he could feel the
heat of her breath as it carried the words from her lungs.
“Parvati…”
“She knew you wouldn’t want to dance, you see. Granger has told us you hate the
limelight, so she knew you’d be off the floor before the first song stopped.”
Harry noticed the chatty Gryffindor’s eyes kept dancing down to his lips, and
realized he was doing the same to her. “I wouldn’t have minded much, I just
wanted to talk to you, away from our…” Parvati bit her lip, her eyes rolling as
she searched for the words, “…entourages. But Lavender, the wannabe slut she
is, had a different idea.” The incubus swallowed down a groan as the dusky girl
rolled her hips, pushing her knees forward and extending her arms until they
slid over his shoulders, their faces no farther apart, but their hips now
nearly touching. “She suggested I drag you out as soon as a good beat came on,
and show you how I move my hips.” Her low voice dripped with desire, and Harry
found his hands on her waist of their own accord. “Would you have liked that,
Harry? Do you think I could’ve made you forget the crowd?” Her smirk was back,
and somehow it was in itself innuendo, as if just her smile could subtly
proposition him. She punctuated her sentence with another roll of her hips,
this time grinding her clothed sex across his lap, and the wizard involuntarily
took a deep inhale, breathing in her lovely scent. “No?” Parvati’s eyes were
full of mirth, knowing that she’d found a weakness of his, that Lavender had
indeed been steering her truthfully. “When I left with that silly boy, that was
to get your attention, you know- Padma’s idea, again. Part of me thinks she was
trying to sabotage me, sometimes.”
She suddenly leaned back, teasing with the buttons of Harry’s shirt, the apex
of her thighs flush against his fly. “Either way, Lavender admonished me for
following that prude’s advice.” That grin. “Much as I love her, Lavender isn’t
the most creative in her advice. Part of me thinks she’s trying to live
vicariously through me, and Hermione, and the other girls she gives advice to,
since she’d never follow it. But, I’ll admit, every time I’ve ever talked to
you, I was a bit more tempted to follow it each time.” That. God. Damned. Grin.
“The first time she said it was in second year- you were distraught over the
petrification of your closest friend. I wanted to console you but didn’t know
how. At the time, it was a scandalous thought that she’d given me.” She popped
a button on his shirt. “Then, when I wanted to get your attention third year,
and at the big slumber party she whispered in my ear about how I should go
about getting it. Everyone thought we were laughing about gossip, but I just
couldn’t stop picturing it.” Another button. Harry was breathing heavily,
trying to control his urge to grind his hips upward. “Then on the last day that
year, you were so upset about something, and when she caught me looking at you,
she frankly suggested how I could cheer you up- but I’d already been thinking
about it.” She undid the last button holding his shirt closed, as he’d undone
the top and never actually done the bottommost, running her soft, warm hands
against his defined pectorals, tickling the light dusting of dark hair. “Every.
Single. Day. In Sybil’s class. Lavender never went a day without suggesting I
go wake you up, or try to…” She dug her nails into his skin lightly, drawing an
unconscious groan from him as he continued to lustfully stare at her grin
throughout her confession. “Excite you, about Divination, with her prescribed
method, of course.” Her hands resumed their trailing of his chest, and he
realized his own hands were stroking her sides, bunching her shirt up until his
fingers felt the heat of her skin. “Then when you asked me to the ball, she
lost her mind. She told me I had to do it, to get you wrapped up on my finger,
to get you to buy me things, take me places… Merlin, buy me places, to hear her
talk about how grateful you’d be.” She leaned forward, pressing her forehead to
his. “But I don’t want any of that. I just want to cheer you up.” Parvati
kissed his cheek, again farther back, twice more while Harry’s head swam in a
deep, confused lust- she’d never even said anything explicit and somehow he was
twitching in his pants- until she nipped at his earlobe, whispering, “Do you
want me to cheer you up, Harry?”
“Mmf.” Harry exhaled, his eyes sliding closed as Parvati’s lips closed on his
neck, just under his ear, a light suction and her tongue almost massaging the
sensitive skin there. He nodded, and her tinkling laugh came again, and between
light kisses toward his shoulder, she instructed him to say it aloud. “Merlin,
Parvati, you’re driving me crazy.” She hummed into his shoulder, nipping at him
again, before she started working down his bare chest. He groaned openly as she
traced her tongue in a light circle around his nipple, staring up at his face.
She took that as positive feedback and lightly latched her lips to his chest,
her teeth scraping against his surprisingly sensitive flesh. His hands slid up
her shirt, running his strong fingers along her smooth back as her eyes smiled
up at him. “Show me what you’ve wanted to do to me since second year.”
She sat up at that, biting her lip as her gaze couldn’t quite meet his, even as
that grin remained. “I want you to be more… vulgar, when you say it.” Her hands
came to the armrests, allowing her to slide herself backward, off the seat,
eyes flashing with mischief again. “A little more… desperate.” She was
blushing, for the first time, and for the first time, Harry realized that her
confidence was more bravado than anything, that her whole performance so far
was a gambit, a risk she was taking. Parvati misread the contemplative face he
was making as she lowered her body to the warm rug before the chair, thinking
he was hesitant to do that, and added a soft “Please?” that doubled her blush.
Harry reached out, grabbing her pretty face with both hands, and pulled her to
him, a quick peck on her lips, her nose, her forehead, before he whispered,
“You want to see my desperation?” Parvati nodded against his hands, a tense
mischief still in her intoxicating cognac orbs. He drew her face forward,
slowly, without force, allowing her time to realize his intent, to back out if
she so chose; she did not. He pressed her cheek right cheek to his inner thigh,
and the girl made a mewling sound as she felt a warm rod pressed against her
through the fabric of his pants. As she nuzzled against his manhood, her eyes
slid shut, her lip between her teeth again. He saw both her hands tighten on
the armrests, and as he moved his hands from her face, she continued rubbing
against him like a cat, manipulating it up his thigh. “I can’t think of
anything more desperate or vulgar than being brought to the point of throbbing
by a girl who can’t even tell me she wants to play with my cock.” With a
whimper, Parvati kissed along the length through his pants, and he couldn’t
help but watch, entranced by her wanton display.
“Take it out,” she looked up to him, pouting, “please, Harry?” The confidence
he’d gained in his days with Rachel came back with the force multiplier of
being this worked up after such a lengthy stint of abstinence. So when he
reached out to trace his fingers into Parvati’s hair, pulling her head back a
fraction, she squeaked in surprise, and Harry’s heart began racing even
farther, knowing he was pushing into unknown territory, trying to mediate
between desperate fumbling and confident sexuality. He unbuttoned and began
unzipping his trousers with his free hand, before reaching out to touch her
face, his thumb tracing her soft lips.
“Take what out, Parvati?”
“Y-your cock.” The girl barely breathed the words, and after a sharp inhale,
tried again. “Please let me see your cock.”
“Good girl.” He’d said it without thinking, barely registering how
condescending it could be taken, but her eyes twinkled in lust, and so he
reached into his open pants. Slowly, dramatically, he pulled himself free from
the black slacks, his turgid weapon standing straight above her, and his ego
soared at her audible gasp. Gripping the base tightly to keep his tool from
bending under its own weight, he shook it in front of her face faux-tauntingly,
before letting go, allowing it to fall forward, bouncing against her face. With
a pleased hum, she chastely kissed the midpoint of his underside, her eyes
fluttering closed as she felt a drip of precum drip and run into her hairline.
“Just the size of this is vulgar.” The lust-fueled girl slid her hands from the
armrests to the boy’s hips, pushing her face forward until she pressed his
length against his flat stomach, using her forehead to gently hold him in place
as she dragged her nose across his underside, so she could nuzzle the other
side of her face against his manhood. Kissing his shaft again, she let her lips
linger open this time, kissing a bit deeper, letting her tongue get a ghost of
a taste of his skin. Tugging at his pants, she mewled again as he lifted his
hips, letting him grind against her face as she pulled his pants down to his
knees before letting them drop to his ankles, all the while peppering his
pulsing vein with wet kisses. She quickly brought her right hand up, grasping
his tool and pressing it to her face, nuzzling the head with her cheek, her
eyes closed seemingly, to Harry, almost in rapture. Her left hand traced up his
wiry leg, until her fingers found his heavy balls, which pulled a grunt of
appreciation from the girl. “Nnf, you’re hung like a monster, it’s so… fucking
obscene.” Her breathless voice was muffled against his glans as she kissed his
frenulum more deeply than she’d ever even kissed a boy.
“Fuck, Parvati, if you keep this up you’ll know my dick better than I do
myself.” Harry groaned as she pulled away from his purple helmet with a lewd
smacking noise, before the girl nudged the spot with her nose. The cute gesture
in such a lewd spot was a microcosm of the whole experience for him; she was
still in her too-big pajamas, her adorable face and demeanor contrasting so
alluringly alongside the debauched actions she performed.
“Can’t say that’s not the goal, honestly.” The delivery was flat, honest,
frank. Harry might have thought into it if she didn’t follow it with a series
of quick kisses along his shaft at uneven intervals (she counted thirteen
kisses, and committed the number to memory for her next Divination project)
until she came to his sac. Her right hand wrapped around him, slowly pumping
her fist along his sensitive head as her left hand hefted his balls to her
face. Raising her eyes to his, she held his emerald gaze as she kissed first
one, then the other nearly apricot sized orb. The cock-worshipping Gryffindor
pressed her face forward, each heavy nut on either side of the bridge of her
nose until she found the knot of muscle under the skin. Staring up at Harry
past her slowly jerking hand, Parvati felt herself melting under the intensity
of his arousal as she pressed her nose to one side and then the other, nuzzling
the length of him that she couldn’t touch directly, but still wanted to map.
His hot to the touch testicles rubbing across her cheeks and face was a happy
collateral effect that she relished nonetheless, and as she pulled away, she
stuck her tongue out, using the slick muscle to lift one of his heavy balls to
her lips, sucking it into her hot mouth. Harry threw his head back and pushed
her face forward, pressing her into his crotch again as he groaned out
expletives in response to the unexpected pleasure.  
When her dark-haired crush released her hair, Parvati slowly pulled back,
increasing suction as she watched him watch her slowly let the orb leave her
lips, before audibly popping free and falling back to smack against his thighs.
She pulled his tip toward herself, sliding her hand down his length, licking
the crease of his underside in a long, slow motion that ended with her tongue
flicking over his urethra. Pressing her soft lips to him, she lingered before
winking at him and parting those gorgeous pink lips, sliding him into her
mouth. This was incredibly far removed from Harry’s previous oral experiences.
Rachel had been fast, almost utilitarian, eager to get him off more than
enjoying herself. Parvati however, was going torturously slow, her actions
exploratory more than anything, as if she was satisfying her own curiosity and
perversions first, and pleasing him second. Centimeter by centimeter he
disappeared into her hot mouth, her right hand squeezing his base. Her tongue
traced up his ridge, and she twisted her head a touch to follow the curve until
she made it to the dorsal vein, where her dexterous muscle reversed direction,
coming back to his underside only to repeat the careful tracing of the other
half of his helmet. “Bleeding hell, Parv, you’re killing me.” The girl only
responded with a soft hum of appreciation. As she pushed down, her tongue
maintained a measured pressure, laving his cock, a noted focus on his engorged
urethral artery. She moaned as her eyes fluttered shut at the sensation of his
head contacting her tonsils, ripping a moan from her enraptured partner. Her
Gryffindor instincts took hold, and she knitted her brow in effort, pushing
past the discomfort, gagging harshly and backing off briefly before carefully
pushing forward again. Harry was panting as he watched her work, seemingly
trying to pull him deeper with her lips. She coughed, a strange sensation for
both of them, before she moved her hand from his base to the deepest her lips
had gotten, slowly easing back, before pulling herself free, a thin strand of
saliva hanging between her bottom lip and his swollen head.
“Barely even a quarter of it.” Parvati looked disappointed, but her voice was
almost reverent. She glared at the incubus’ inhuman manhood, seemingly
personally affronted that it had bested her. After a few moments, she’d caught
her breath and forgave the object of her ministrations a chaste kiss of
forgiveness. Lowering her face again, she placed a wet kiss at the point where
his scrotum started to pull at his skin, her tongue poking out of her mouth to
trace down between his balls, before she began taking long, slow licks of him,
covering his sensitive skin in warm saliva. Leaning back, letting Harry see
that her left arm was down her torso, buried in the crotch of her pajama pants,
she blew a cooling breath onto his testicles, grinning lecherously as she
watched them twitch under the skin. “Y’know Harry, there’s one more place I
want to explore…” She brought her face back down, sucking one of his balls into
her mouth again.
“Mmf- wassat.”
He grunted as she responded with her face still pressed into him, muffling her
lusty voice as his wet balls rubbed across her pretty face. “I want to touch
the farthest part of your manhood, a spot behind your cock, behind your balls.”
Harry watched her lap at him between his spread legs, her right hand working
the top portion of his shaft, fingers applying careful pressure to his head,
carefully manipulating the vein along the bottom. He stared at her pretty face,
wishing she’d open her eyes again, and felt her tongue teasing the area of skin
where his scrotum became his perineum, shocked at how good it felt. “Can I,
Harry?” He was staring open mouthed, lost in the moment, the sensation, the
incredibly perverse situation. Parvati fluttered her eyes open, and Harry found
himself lustdrunk as he swam in her whiskey irises, knowing he could not hold
up to her muffled whisper. “Please?” Not trusting his voice, he nodded
vigorously, nearly keening as her perverse joy flooded those damnable eyes.
Harry almost wished she’d fulfilled her request quickly, with any semblance of
a sense of urgency. But as she very carefully raised her left hand to show him
her fingers were incredibly slick, almost dripping with her own excitement. The
anticipation was speeding his pulse to the point that he was convinced it would
falter at any moment, and he nervously opened his mouth to voice doubts twice,
but both times his words failed in his throat as he stared into her debauched
gaze. Parvati trailed her hand slowly up his thigh, sucking an oversized ball
into her mouth as her right hand continued her leisurely handjob, her slick
fingers dipping low, making it clear where their target was. He found himself
spreading his thighs yet wider, seemingly against his own conscious second
thoughts, as her fingers teased between his muscled ass cheeks, tracing first
up, then down his crack. Her tongue circled the testicle in her mouth, and her
thumb teased at the pre-cum leaking tip of his cock, and her middle finger
slowly teased its way into his anus. The incubus didn’t know how this witch was
capable of smiling so lecherously with just her eyes, but he couldn’t move his
panting gaze away from hers as her finger slowly pumped into him, dipping just
a bit deeper with each motion. With a loud groan, he dropped his head back, a
wave of tension leaving his body, and he felt her thin finger slide in to the
knuckle in response. “Holy fuck, Patil.” She hummed a pleased sentiment, her
mouth still full with one of his sensitive jewels. Parvati lifted one of her
legs over his, and began grinding her needy lips against his shin, desperate
for sensation herself, but unwilling to stop her perverse exploration. Harry
moaned out loud as she worked her index finger into his ass alongside her
middle, her fingers were thin, but he was just on the verge of discomfort,
before she started curling her fingers- “FUCK!” The young wizard began uttering
demands, pleas, expletives, anything for her to keep massaging that spot, and
the horny witch between his legs couldn’t hide her outright glee. Her right
hand increased its speed on his head beyond the crawl it had been operating at,
her hips ground her dripping lips against his bare shin as she cursed the pants
and panties that muted her sensations, she found herself moaning around his
twitching nut as she increased suction on him, and her fingers continued their
careful massage, milking her victim from every angle she could at once. The
Gryffindor girl ignored his moans of warning, continuing on with her
ministrations with no regard for his impending orgasm, focusing on the
sensations of his ball twitching on her tongue, his cock throbbing in her hand,
his ass squeezing her fingers in opposing frequency to her strokes of his
prostate, and her own stunted humping of his leg, her needy clit grinding
against his rough shinbone through her pants, until she felt him explode.
Parvati starred at him, her moans muffled by her insistence of keeping one of
his balls in her super-heated mouth, watching his face as his orgasm took him.
She convinced herself she could feel as his balls tensed, sending their load up
into his body, where she urged the semen through his prostate, pumping up
through his cock under her fingers, until it shot out into the air with the
strength of a cannon. Her hips ground faster into his legs as she watched him
orgasm, his eyes wide as ropes of semen splattered everywhere; drops and ropes
fell across his stomach, the chair, the rug around her, but one hot strand that
landed across her forehead, draping over her open eye, tented over eyelashes
and onto her cheek, set off her own orgasm. Grinding harshly through her own
ecstasy, she let his testicle drop from her mouth, moaning lightly as she rode
his leg through the wave, reveling in the last few drops of his completion
dripping onto her open lips.
Slowly easing her fingers out of him, Parvati smirked up to Harry once more as
she pulled his tip to her face again, licking her lips before wrapping them
around him, her hand milking one last bead of warmth onto her tongue. Pulling
away, she kissed his tip lovingly, pressing one last kiss to the side of his
shaft. Crawling up his body, she lapped up his still-warm cum from his flat
stomach, planting a handful more kisses up his chest until she was straddling
him again, beaming at him warmly with a single strand of his thick semen still
draped across her face. “Mmm, you do make a girl work for it.”
Harry laughed breathlessly, before reaching forward to trace the last bit of
his product from her face, gathering it on his thumb, before presenting it to
her. The dusky-skinned girl parted her lips, moving them over his thumb
carefully, until she closed them at his farthest knuckle, slowly drawing back
while massaging the pad of his thumb with her tongue, sucking almost painfully
hard, until his thumb left her mouth, clean. “That was the most erotic
experience of my life.” That pulled another smile from the girl, this one
somewhere between proud and bashful.
“Good.” She leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “I love your
smile, I wish I saw it more.” The petite girl cuddled into hm, resting her
flush face against his equally warm chest. “Maybe you can make that up to me
sometime.” She pressed another kiss to his body. “In kind, I mean. I’m not
Lavender.” He found himself playing with her hair, suddenly sleepy.
“Maybe I will.”
He felt her smile falter against his skin, and her voice came out low and
hesitant. “I… know you’re going through a lot, what with the girl problems,
and…” she sighed, gathering herself, “And with the ministry and such. But if
you need to talk, or vent, or anything, just ask.” She giggled. “Maybe even if
it’s just another blowjob, but don’t tell anyone about that, hm?” Harry
smirked, glad she couldn’t see the sadness in his eyes at the moment. He
pressed a kiss of his own to her head, against her vanilla scented hair.
“What if I just want this?” The words had fallen out of his mouth before he’d
noticed, and he suddenly realized that he’d been craving his kind of closeness
for weeks. He missed this almost more than he missed Rachel.
“Mmm I could be convinced to spend some time like this, I think,” came her lazy
reply, nuzzling her face deeper into his body.
“Parv, I can’t-“
“I know.”
“But-“
“Neither of us want me to know, Harry.” Her voice wasn’t angry, but it was
final. “I’m not my sister, I know there’s some answers that you don’t want,
some questions you shouldn’t ask. I’m willing to be young, and… and stupid.
While I can.”
“What if… what if all this was beyond your control?”
Parvati chuckled, part mirth, part shame, “At what point during the act of me
rubbing my face into your balls did it seem like I was in control, Harry?”
“That’s not-“
“I know. I get that you feel like you don’t have a lot of agency in your life
right now, being forced to compete in a life or death game, then the… results,
and then the trial, everything. I understand.” She sighed sleepily, before
correcting herself. “Actually, I understand that I don’t understand. But what I
do understand is that I have a hot, naked, beast of a man under me, and a warm
hearth at my back, and I’m sleepy as fuck from the most satisfying orgasm I’ve
had in months.” The voice in Harry’s head that was still muttering about the
biochemical changes he was inflicting on her merely by existing near her was
slowly being drowned out by the languid desire to absorb this innocent
affection, this companionship he’s sought his entire life.
The young witch sighed one last time, muttering into his chest as she
threatened to doze off. “Just be a dumb, selfish kid with me, for once.”
Several hours later, Harry left her curled up in his chair with a blanket
draped over her and slunk up to his bed to squeeze in a few hours of guilty
sleep before class.
 
Chapter End Notes
     I’ve developed a crush on Shefali Chowdhury because of this. I was
     originally going to do Lavender, but it felt too… hollow. Plus,
     running through blonde after blonde just feels cliché.
     Speaking of blondes, some of you may be asking why I character-
     assassinated my own OC. You may hate her, but rest assured, she hates
     herself more. And I will explain why what went down did so. Well,
     I’ll explain the mechanism that brought it about, I dunno if I’ll put
     arrows around it going “THIS IS WHY THE RACHEL DEBACLE HAPPENED,
     SEE?” Tryna find a balance between getting my point across and
     respecting my audience.
     Three more canon girls will definitely be making an (adult)
     appearance in this, but I’m looking to do 10-ish chapters at least.
     Suggestions for pairings will be considered, especially if they are
     particularly interesting, but I’ll be straight up with y’all, the
     plot of this is pretty well set. Well. I’ve got a point A and a point
     B and I’m gonna let the river sort itself out, but my point is, any
     suggestions beyond “I wanna see –character- do –act- in –setting-“
     will be relatively futile. Sorry. Ish. Kinda.
***** Sex-Magic Science *****
Chapter Summary
     First day of school, Second conversation with Lilu, and Hermione's
     dark side.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Sex-Magic Science
Harry had left early the morning after his late night with Parvati, intent on
sending a letter confirming a rendezvous with Fleur whatever evening she felt
comfortable doing so. But as he crossed the common room, he quickly learned he
was not alone; Hermione had apparently been lying in wait for him. The entirety
of the walk to the owlery was a sort of interrogation. She grilled him about
just how he’d gone about summoning Lilu, and after a bit of blushing vagueness,
his bushy haired friend admonished him for not being pragmatic about the
subject. As it was now a part of his nature, and potentially a key to the
puzzle, she needed all the details, clinical but complete. And so with a sigh,
he’d given them to her, answering every question she had curtly, but as
completely as he could. After she’d heard her fill, she worried her lip and
stared a few paces in front of herself, puzzling, until with a sigh, she gave
it up for the time being. Harry sent his missive and Hermione badgered him
about keeping focused on school this year, in spite of… everything.
At lunch, a handful of uneventful first-day classes later, Harry sat in his
usual spot, and was joined by the usual group. Hermione found the seat on his
left, eyes still sliding off into the ether, trying to solve her friend’s
problem. Ron on his right, animatedly informing everyone in earshot how tired
he was. The usual suspects, to be sure, but as Ginny squeaked into a seat
across from Hermione, clearly trying to beat Harry and Ron’s dormmates, the
seat opposite Ron was taken not by Seamus or Dean, but by Lavender, seemingly
intent on agreeing with the gluttonous redhead on Harry’s right. Parvati sat
next to her, and as Harry’s eyes glanced at her, she winked, a half-smirk on
her pretty face. Hoping the sense of guilt in his chest didn’t come pouring out
of his expression, he attempted to smile at her subtly before turning his
attention to the meal.
“So.” Harry picked his head up, looking to his best mate’s younger sister as
she spoke. He tried to place her expression, with the way her eyes flickered
from person to person. She was trying to figure out what she was missing, and
he wondered which of the oddities had caught her attention, his awkwardly
hidden half-smile, Parvati’s flirtatious wink, Ron’s semi-coherent babbling,
Lavender’s shockingly rapt attention to said babbling, or Hermione’s full-on
meditative stare. “Judging by the lack of concern about it, none of you have
had Defense yet?” Ron and Lavender carried on their own conversation, but the
question pulled Hermione from the ether, and Harry could see Parvati perk up as
well.
“What did you hear?”
“She’s a bloody bore, apparently.” Ginny looked down to her food, picking apart
at a sandwich, popping a small piece into her mouth. “Honestly, though, if
she’s just boring, she’ll exceed my expectations. Besides, I’ve never had a
boring DADA. Maybe I could use the change of pace.”
“Lockhart was boring.” Harry found himself speaking if only to keep the
conversation going, not wishing to find himself absorbed into Ron’s current
malcontent about why the first day of class even exists. But more than that he
was trying to keep his eyes off of Parvati, scared of the emotion he’d find in
those honey-colored irises. He’d been weak, he’d knowingly exposed her to his
nature without telling her. But how could he have told her? What would she have
reacted with? A laugh? A scoff? Rage and shoves and telling him he’s an
imbecile?
“Lockhart,” Ginevra popped another small chunk of sandwich in her mouth, “was a
spectacular mess, more interested in flirting with eleven year old witches than
anyone in the room’s safety. He wanted to be some kind of storybook hero for
us.” Ginny turned her eyes to Harry, stage-whispering conspiratorially. “Did
Hermione ever tell you about her crush on him? She GUSHED about him-“
“A pity he wanted to be a storybook hero to a perverse little redhead who
already had one.” Hermione’s tone was had a biting edge despite the banal voice
she delivered in. Not fixing her gaze to anything, her verbal riposte was
almost lazy for how ruthless she cut. “Did Ginny ever tell you about her habit
of stealing your Nimbus whenever she got-“
“Oh how original.” Ginny’s eyes were friendly, and her mouth was smiling, but
Harry saw her shoulders tense even as she threw a lazy middle finger at
Hermione, who merely smirked satisfactorily as she reached for a dessert.
Harry smiled, still ignoring the situation on his right, unaware of how
haphazardly he was approaching this newest twist in the conversation. “Why’s
that even matter? It was more than a year ago.” He laughed, looking to Ginny.
“I mean, you could’ve just asked, why hide that you’re flying with my broom?” A
blush crossed the redheaded girl’s cheeks, and when the brunette on his left
slid from a satisfied smirk to a downright smug grin, Harry realized that he
was missing something. “What?” Hermione rolled her eyes expectantly to Ginny,
clearly wondering how she’d flounder her way out of this one, but when the
Weaslette opened her mouth, only a hesitant noise made it out for a second,
until…
“That’s how young witches learn to masturbate, Harry.” All four heads rocketed
toward Parvati, who was teasing the rim of her goblet, her chin resting in her
other hand. She was staring at him, her look reminiscent of Hermione’s, a
knowing smirk, and Harry, half to gain bearing and half to pull himself out of
her bourbon orbs flicked his eyes from face to face; Ginny’s eyes had slid
closed and a deeper blush decorated her tensely smiling cheeks, Hermione looked
torn between being aghast for her friend and wildly entertained that someone
had taken her joke farther than she’d thought to, Ron was appalled that his
conversation had been cut into with his sister’s sexuality, and Lavender was…
staring at Ron.
“Why the hell are you talking about-“
“Ron, I just remembered, I have to grab my Defense book before Divination, care
to come with? I want to hear more about that bludger offense. You focus on
trying to hit the keeper?”
“I…” He looked to Harry, then to Ginny, then to Lavender, trying to figure out
just what was going on without any of the context. Finally, slowly he stood
with the blonde. “Yeah. Most people just aim for Chasers…” They drifted away
together, leaving behind a shockingly tense scene. Ginny was on edge, and two
seats away, an island at the table, Parvati was pointedly keeping her lazy,
bemused gaze off of the redhead, and Hermione was on his left, still torn
between her retaliatory joke landing so well (with help) and not wanting to
push into the territory of actually upsetting her friend. Harry knew that if he
didn’t take action- and soon- one of the two brash women opposite him would.
“Uhhm.” Well that’s not it. “So, uh, when did Lavender get into quidditch?” His
voice started off strained, but he nearly saved it by the end, finally
addressing Parvati.
“She isn’t.” It was a lazy statement, one that made it clear that the dusky
witch felt no urge to take the charge out of the air. “She’s been going on
about Ron for almost a year now. Some drivel about big feet and his potential
if he had the right guidance. Also she wets herself about his cologne.” A
languid shrug. “I got tired of her babbling about it and not doing anything, so
I convinced her to… make a move. Something bold.” She quirked an eyebrow at
Harry, resolutely ignoring Ginny. “Seems like she… made an impression, at
least?” Her gaze lingered, boring into the incubus’ grey matter, searching.
Suddenly she sat up, folding her arms in front of her and turning to the
redhead at last. Parvati’s eyes brightened into a genuine smile, tone
positively jovial. “I’m so sorry, Ginny. I didn’t think he’d react so strongly,
I just knew Harry was missing cultural context and I could tell he was starting
to feel, well, a little dumb.” The youngest Weasley opened her mouth to reply
but hesitated, eyes flickering to Harry, before Parvati continued. “I wasn’t
thinking clearly, I talk about risqué things with my sister so often I forget
siblings can find it strange, and I was up all night,” Harry couldn’t decide if
it was his imagination or if she ended that sentence breathily, “so I’m a bit
out of it. Forgive me?”
With a deep exhale, Ginny quickly schooled her features, putting on a patient
smile, and a light, disarming laugh. “Of course, I just didn’t want Ron to lose
his wits being reminded his sister has a libido. Sometimes he acts as though
it’s his life’s mission to assure my future husband of my absolute purity.”
Harry glanced to Hermione, hoping to gauge if this peace was legitimate based
on her reaction, but he found her only murmuring about cologne and scent, so he
looked back to Ginny. “He means well, but if it weren’t for Lavender being
quick about that, things could’ve gone south.” She chuckled with just a bit
more mirth than seemed appropriate to Harry. “I mean, how weird is it, that he
can face down Acromantulas and werewolves, but the concept that his sister can
achieve orgasm breaks him?”
“Oh I didn’t realize he was that bad, I thought it was just the idea of you
getting off on Harry’s broomstick.” Harry’s ears tinged pink as he swore that
Parvati somehow put extra emphasis on the last syllable. “Strange, seeing how…
affectionate your parents must be with each other.”
“Ick, now you’re going to gross me out.”
The conversation continued, the two girls across from him discussing early
experimentations with masturbation, and Harry tried not to think about why
they’d be so willing to discuss these things near him. Meanwhile, Hermione had
pulled out her deciphered journal, scribbling in it wildly. Glancing, he caught
the words ‘orgasm,’ ‘catalyst,’ and ‘pheromones’. Looking back up to her face,
he opened his mouth to ask, when she snapped the book closed, looked at him
wild-eyed, and stood. “I think I know what you did.” Immediately she turned and
left, probably to the library, leaving the three Gryffindors in various shades
of confusion.
They all shared a look, before Ginny leveled her twinkling russet eyes at the
boy. “You being accused of rubbing one out too, Harry?” He opened his mouth to
reply but found no words would come, and felt his cheeks start to redden.
“Something more then?” Parvati’s cognac stare did no better for his blushing
state, and when she bit her lip subtly he stood up suddenly, excusing himself
to class, while the two girls giggled mercilessly.
-=-=-
After a Divination class rife with awkward glances between his and Ron’s table
and Lavender and Parvati’s, and a Defense class with a confrontation and
detentions, Hermione dragged Harry by the wrist at a near sprint down a
hallway. 
“Female sex pheromones.” The door clicked shut behind Harry, and he stared at
Hermione in confusion. “That’s what did it, probably. I’d guess either orgasm
or post-orgasm. She did achieve orgasm, correct?” He nodded, still lost. “So,
the only thing I can think is that the pheromones from her orgasm reacted with
your magic, allowing you to form a strong enough conduit for Lilu to traverse
the veil. It’s the only thing you did then differently than any other time.
Assuming you’ve masturbated in the room with the book before?” He nodded again,
starting to get his footing. “And so it unlocked when you had sex and then you
could summon him. I think a reasonable assumption is that female orgasm powers
you, a sex-magic conduit, enough that you can pull him through.”
“O… okay. So I just have to mindfuck some poor girl again.” At this, Hermione
took on an expression he didn’t quite remember seeing before. She was just as
giddy as she always was when she had an ‘eureka’ moment, her face flush and her
speech fast, but there was something else going on too. She was hesitant,
contemplative, trying to find a way to deliver some idea. His eyes widened, and
as he opened his mouth, she put both hands up in front of her, rushing out as
many words as she could.
“This is the best way, Harry,” all came out as one word, quickly followed by,
“and you know it. There’s no guilt if it’s me, I’m doing this to help, and to
sate my own curiosity. And, if I’m being totally honest, my… drive.” He raised
an eyebrow, mouth still slightly agape in mild shock. “Don’t give me that,
you’re not an idiot. I’m almost sixteen, of course I’m… randy sometimes.” Harry
walked over to a desk, sitting himself on top of it, staring at her in
disbelief. “Often, actually. Basically all the time.”
“Hermione.”
“Right, sorry, anyway. Yes, this is the best way. You don’t have to use your
power on another girl, and I appear to be immune to the… romantic influence of
it, so, so long as we’re safe, I think we should be fine. Friends helping
friends, right?”
Harry put his face in his hands. “This isn’t like we’re proofreading each
other’s papers, Hermione.” He sighed and looked up, looking into the face of
his most trusted friend, his greatest ally. “What are our other options?”
“Do Unspeakable-classified level research on metamagical theory in an attempt
to punch a hole in the veil in an effective enough fashion to deliver
information through, all while you swear off half the human race for the
foreseeable future.” Hermione frowned. “Even with your mother’s research in
hand, I don’t understand even half of it. I’d have to study everything she
studied to get by with just her working notes in shorthand, like we have. We’re
talking years of dedicated academic pursuits here, Harry.” She shifted her gaze
and nervously began picking under a fingernail. “So far as other girls… there’s
not many you can trust not to spread it around, I’d think. But we could find
them, it would just take time.” Quickly, a passionate zeal rolled across her
face, and she straightened, nearly glaring at him. “I know you’re attracted to
me- it’s almost impossible for us to spend so much time together and not think
about it- so I know that’s not the problem. If you’re trying to protect me from
anything, I want you to stop. I demand you stop. If this power is going to
drive me to the point that I feel magically compelled to have your children
then it’ll happen eventually anyway, because I’m not going to give up my best
friend over circumstances he can’t control.”
Harry was taken aback. Silence wafted between them, Hermione’s heated passion
slowly cooling as the incubus’ cold dawning set in. After a few long minutes,
he lifted his eyes to hers. “So uh. What’s the best way to go about this?”
“A-ah…” Her confidence faltered as realization dawned on her. “Sooner, the
better, I s’pose. How, uhh… how much control do you have?” He raised an eyebrow
in confusion, and she blushed lightly as she searched for her words. “We need
to recreate the time it worked as best we can, and you clearly didn’t use a
rubber that time…”
“But what if you-“
“Harry, I’ll be totally honest with you. I thought about this, basically all
through Umbridge’s class, actually. And as… bloody hot as it sounds to be as
scientifically thorough,” her blush was bright and strong, “as possible- you
give me an orgasm, we try, I give you one, we try, and then repeat each
repetition up the chain, slowly trading safety away for accuracy…” the wizard
was struggling not to be incredibly turned on by the witch’s clear enjoyment of
just such a fantasy, and a small part of him believed he could just see her
ghosting her thighs together, could just make out the hint of the scent of her
arousal. “Fun as that sounds, you need answers now, not in three days when we
find out the condom cocks up the whole ritual.” She took a deep breath. “We can
do it here and now, no condom, but not inside. If you trust yourself, I trust
you.”
“And if I fuck up?” Harry’s lust was rapidly losing to his admittedly weak
sense of caution, but he forced himself to acknowledge the possibility, forced
her to acknowledge it.
“Well.” Hermione couldn’t keep the brief panic out of her eyes, and Harry’s
heart dropped at that. But then a sense of playfulness pushed that panic away,
a brashness he’d come to recognize within her. “Don’t fuck up.”
He stared at her a moment longer, the voice reminding him that this was a
stupidly risky move slowly running out of steam and silencing itself.
“Alright.” The incubus stood, facing his best friend, giving in to both her
logic and lack thereof, and repeated his earlier question. “How do you want to
do this?”
Hermione rolled her deep brown eyes, smirking in spite of herself. “What a
romantic you are, no wonder girls can’t keep their hands off you.” She shifted
her weight on her hip, her eyes slowly sliding down Harry’s body, taking in his
somehow already disheveled uniform. His shirt was half untucked, his tie was
loose, his robes hanging open. As the girl bit her lip, he couldn’t help but
raise his eyebrow again. “Strip.”
“’Scuse me?”
“I mean I’m doing you a pretty big favor here, letting you use my virginity to
fuel some spell, least you could do is earn it.”
For a moment, he questioned himself. This did feel very much like using his
friend. But as he watched her nervously worrying her lip, he remembered this
was her idea- this whole interaction was happening under her direction, as
close to laboratory-like controls as she could muster. And with that he
realized exactly what she was doing by making him strip.
“Mhm.” Harry stood, a sudden confidence overtaking him. “I see.” His robe fell
off his shoulders, draped over the desk he’d been sat atop. “Inspecting the
specimen?” Pulling his vest off over his head, he dropped the garment to the
side, staring at the bushy haired genius as she tried to control her rapidly
spreading blush. Knot of his tie pulled lose, he yanked it over his head,
tossing it as well. Quickly unbuttoning his shirt, he maintained eye contact
the entire time, somehow keeping his features cool even as he wanted to smirk
at her rising blush as he pushed the shirt off of his shoulders, letting it
fall to his feet. As he worked at his belt, her bottom lip was nearly chewed
straight through, and he could see her thighs definitely sawing against each
other. “Make sure your piece of meat is up to standard?” Pulling the belt away,
he quickly kicked off his shoes, toeing off his socks as he popped open the
button on his pants, kicking the offending fabrics away while slowly unzipping
his trousers, watching Hermione’s eyes bulge as she realized he was not wearing
undershorts. The incubus stood there, his thin, toned physique on display for
his best friend, his slacks undone to the point that she could see his dark,
trimmed pubes, and after giving her a few moments to reverse her decision, he
pushed his pants down, letting them hit his ankles and quickly stepping out of
them, covering about half the ground separating them, standing just outside of
his arm’s reach, and confidently stood with his feet shoulder width apart,
folding his hands behind him, in the small of his back, as he puffed his chest
out. “Well?” His last question was a bit of a thrown gauntlet, one last dare,
as he diverted control of the situation over to the brainy brunette.
Hermione hummed appraisingly as she stepped forward, quick to wipe the shock
off her face, either at his boldness or his body, he couldn’t tell. The girl
stepped forward, allowing her eyes to wander across her friend’s body. Her
right hand came up, touching his defined chest, and she slowly traced it up to
his shoulder, groping the muscle there as she stepped around behind him. Harry
had started this little gambit with the utmost confidence that his nerdy friend
would fawn over his athlete’s physique, but as he felt her hand smack down
against his flexed glutes, a blush entered his face against his will. As her
hands traced up his back, around his ribs, and down his flat stomach (if this
had been a hungrier day his abs may have even been showing), as she outright
groped his body, he felt pride and a tinge of shame.
The bookish brunette pulled him back against herself, hands splayed across his
midsection, her chin on his shoulder. “You’ll do.” Her voice was non-committal,
clearly reveling in the fact that she was in control. “You know you qualify as
a magical creature now?” Her hands slid down his torso, tracing his hips, her
fingernails combing through his trimmed pubes. “They tried to offer your people
Being status, but none of you would come forward to accept.” Harry grunted as
she grasped his half-engorged member with both hands, nipping at his earlobe.
“I needed you to know that, Harry, so that you know when I say that this… thing
is downright bestialI’m being very much literal.” The incubus let out a heavy
exhale through his nostrils, trying to keep his resolve in the face of her
massaging fingers working his shaft to hardness. “Actually, the laws for the
Incubi and Succubae are remarkably outdated, behind even the vampires and
veela.” Hermione’s hot breath was on his neck as she spoke, softly but not
bothering to whisper. Her hands slowly started to stroke him, one on top of the
other, with more than enough room to move in either direction. “As a matter of
fact, I could quite literally own you.” She let her index finger roll up onto
his head, rubbing the bead of precum back into his swollen tip, pulling another
grunt from him. “So maybe act a bit less uppity toward the one person with the
ability to turn you into a glorified dildo, hmm?” Her voice was falsely sweet,
but her hands sped up, jerking him off roughly.
“You wouldn’t.”
“Oh wouldn’t I?” She laughed, a quick, demeaning, three-syllable chortle. “On
the one hand, I’d be showing the wizarding community exactly how backward they
are, by enslaving their favorite celebrity. On the other, I’d have a nice, warm
cock, or a willing tongue whenever I was randy. Or bored. Or wanted to show off
for a friend.” Her hands were pumping him faster by the second, and he could
start to hear her panting, even over his own labored breathing. “I mean, I
could probably just rent you out rather than work. I could just picture it, I
bring you around some posh purebloods- on a leash of course, can’t let my
dangerous pet do anything rash- and encourage them to pet you, maybe even let
them sit on your face.” Her eyes slid closed as she pictured the wildly immoral
scene. “And then a few days later, those same pureblood cunts have to beg a
lowly mudblood to let a halfbreed animal knock them up.” Harry was torn between
the animalistic pleasure her hands were giving him and his conscious mind
taking offense at being rendered nothing more than a pet. On the one hand, the
insane rambling coming from his friend wasn’t something she’d ever do…
probably. The dark, twisted part of his brain, the voice that had shrugged off
the loss of Rachel and had told him to let Parvati have her fun, that voice
purred at the idea of women begging for his children- circumstances be damned-
and was quick to remind Harry that his ‘innocent’ friend had kept a woman
captive in a jar for an indeterminate time.
“Merlin, you’re serious aren’t you?” He gasped as her hands flexed, tightening
on his manhood to a point that was on the verge of becoming painful. Hermione
made a cheerful hum in the affirmative, still pumping his shaft roughly. Harry
dropped his head back, pleasure and sanity battling for control of his brain.
“You’re a bloody sociopath.” She cackled with real mirth in his ear.
“Mm. S’pose I am. But what does that make you, my little incubus toy? Act
offended if you like, but I felt you twitch, I felt your inhuman cock throb in
my hands at the thought of being pimped out to my friends.” Harry could barely
control his breathing as the witch bit his earlobe again. “Not to mention the
full body shiver you had at the imagery of impregnating some poor woman.” Her
finger was rubbing his pre into his helmet again, and the boy involuntarily
groaned. “Maybe I will have to keep you leashed, you’re more of a dog than your
godfather.” He could hear the mirth in her voice, and was slightly upset with
himself that he couldn’t bring himself to be angry about her mockery of him.
Instead he was focused solely on her soft hands, still pumping him, fast and
rough. “Are you getting close, puppy?”
“Fuck- yes, so close.”
And suddenly his back was cold and his cock was throbbing in the air,
abandoned. With a frustrated groan, he turned to look back at Hermione, seeing
her stripping out of her robe as she approached the dusty teacher’s desk,
spinning on her heel before jumping back to sit in the middle of the sturdy
furniture. Slowly crossing one leg over the other, flashing her smooth thighs
in the process, she crooked a finger at Harry, beckoning him. Taking a deep
breath, he allowed himself a heartbeat to take in the image. She was still
clothed, her uniform somehow pristine. One of her Mary Janes tittered up and
down in a steady rhythm, the other resting on the desk by her left knee. From
both of them rose knee-high socks, the standard grey with gold and maroon trim
at the top, just under her kneecaps. A few tempting centimeters of thigh, the
last vestiges of her summer tan still present on them, led to her uniform
skirt, pleated and innocent. Her vest was loose, hiding much of her figure- but
couldn’t quite disguise the significant swell of her chest. The tie was somehow
still immaculate, the knot so close to her throat he wondered how she wasn’t
uncomfortable. There was a disconnection in her face, however, that intrigued
the young incubus. Her eyes were giddy, like when she was running through a
tangent, gaining knew knowledge and running out of breath explaining it to her
friends, but her mouth was pulled to a pursed line, and if he couldn’t see her
eyes, the expression would tell him she was irritated, or worse.
Harry found himself rushing to her at the end of the frozen moment, and her
head tilted back as her eyes shined with glee, even as her mouth pulled into a
frown. His hands reached for her legs, his lizard brain ready to just pull her
open and start, but he suddenly found her cold sole stopping him. With an
extended foot against his chest, Harry was just now close enough to see the
color of Hermione’s irises- any farther away than this they looked black, and
even now, they were the darkest version of brown he’d ever seen. He found
himself growling, but did not move to reposition her leg. “Down, boy.” She
flicked her foot off of his chest, and he leaned an inch or so back, not hiding
his disdain for her continued degradation of him. Leaning back on one hand, she
extended the other toward him as she let her legs slowly drift apart, her skirt
falling to hide any glimpse up at her panties. “I need…” The brunette’s hand
slowly rolled at the wrist, palm twisting downward as she extended a single
finger, pointing down. “…A bit more convincing, I think.” Harry stared for a
few moments, his lust fogging his thoughts and making it hard to hold on to the
offense and irritation he knew he should feel for his situation.
Harry dropped to his knees, letting the pain shock up into his hips, letting it
fuel his anger-tinted lust. Grabbing Hermione’s waist, he pulled her to the
edge of the desk, wasting no time reaching up her skirt, fingers finding her
panty line and yanking the thin cotton down her thighs. She’d been egging him
on this whole time, and his sluggish brain couldn’t help but find anger and
lust in her barbs, even if her barbs were that he was little more than an
animal. Ripping the white fabric over one of her shoes- the one she’d used to
make him heel- he let them dangle from the other ankle, pushing her knees up
and out. “Ooh isn’t someone an eager puppy?” With another irritated, unthinking
growl, he pushed his face under her skirt, pinning her knees to the desk to
keep her spread eagle, immediately plunging his tongue into her wet pussy.
Hermione moaned out sharply, and he felt her hand on his head over the thick
fabric of her skirt. Wiggling his tongue between her lips, he pushed as far
into her as he could, tracing along as much of her sensitive flesh as he could.
She tasted less strongly than he’d been expecting, her natural lubricant thin
and tasting of little more than skin and sweat, but it was still heady, he
still felt the need to continue.
Pulling his tongue free from her walls, he closed his lips around as much of
her mound as he could, sucking as he pulled back, listening to her groan as his
mouth pulled lightly at her inner lips. Taking a quick breath, Harry took in
what he could in the darkness of the skirt. A wide triangle of very closely
trimmed pubes stopped just above her slit, her tight outer lips framing her
clitoral hood and inner labia. He put his tongue at Hermione’s entrance and
slowly dragged up, parting her virginal lips until her came to her clit,
pressing a rough kiss to the hood before lapping at the skin, hoping to coax
her button out. “Mmm, good boy, I love your doggie kisses on my pussy.” Another
flash of irritation caused the incubus to put more pressure into his licks, as
if he could pull the hood back with friction alone. Moments later, he felt a
bead against his tongue, heard her gasp a bit more harshly than before, the
pressure of her hand on his head increase. Closing his lips around the upper
half of her neat quim he sucked harshly, tongue laving the tiny bead and
surrounding skin forward and back, tracing the flat of his tongue up until the
tip flicks over, before dragging the back of his tongue across her to repeat
the process. Her moans were music to his ears- a perverse sense of vindication.
Suddenly he felt her skirt flip up and she was pushing his head away.
Reluctantly he pulled away, looking up at his friend as she panted, head back
against the desk. “F-fuck, I almost came early.”
“I think that’s only a problem if I do it.”
“As close to… perfect recreation… as we can…” Harry was impressed with his
work, she was still out of breath. He noticed the top student laid out before
him had removed her vest, and her tie and topmost buttons were undone, and with
her skirt flipped up and her lacy cotton panties hanging from one ankle, a wet
shine at the apex of her thighs… she was the image of teenage lust, frayed at
the edges and loving it. He heard her mutter something breathlessly, missing
most of it other than the word ‘in.’
“What was that, Mione?”
Hermione wrenched her head up to glare at the boy for using a nickname she
despised. He glared back, more than a little anger in his body as it was. Her
eyes hardened- his subtle attempt to sway the status quo seemed to be enough to
pull the mirth out of her dark brown orbs. “Put. It. In.”
“Hmm.” He walked forward, standing between her legs, pinning her knee to the
desk again with one hand, the other wielding his weapon by the base, dragging
the underside of his head across her sensitive clit. Bouncing it off of her wet
flesh, he let her gasp fade. “What in?” She growled his name, but he responded
only with slapping his heavy shaft against her sensitive clit again. “I don’t
know what you’re talking about, I’m just a glorified sex toy, remember?”
“Just shove your bloody demon cock in me, you uppity-!”
Harry shoved the first quarter of his obscene manhood into her crushing
wetness. While he’d planned on not slamming all the way home immediately- he
wanted to conquer her, not injure her- he was almost physically stopped by her
clenching walls and pained outcry. “Holy fuck you’re so tight.” He started to
ease back, but the leg he didn’t have pinned down wrapped around his back,
making him pause. “Don’t you ever… y’know?”
The brunette nodded, slowly opening her eyes. Letting out a breath she added,
“Mostly clit stimulation.” Her hips started to rock, slowly teasing at motion,
not pressing any deeper than he already had. She reached for his hand, pulling
it to where they were connected, and he put two and two together, rubbing at
her nub with his thumb. Almost immediately she bit her lip and started rocking
her hips, easing him into her crushing depths. Soon, her breaths were shallow
again, and carried gasps of pleasure rather than discomfort. He opened his
mouth to ask if he should move yet, but she cut him off. “And even when I do
something penetrative… I don’t use beast-cock dildos.”
Harry barked out a laugh, sharp and biting. “Right back to it, huh?” Lifting
the gates to his anger and lust a touch, he pushed forward a bit farther and
harsher than he’d planned, not ripping her open, but pushing deep enough to see
the discomfort in her eyes before pulling back, pushing a bit farther every
time. “Acting so superior while you cum all over my, what was it, my demon
cock?” The young witch groaned as he thrust his hips roughly, rolling her head
back until her shoulders came off the desk as she felt him impact her cervix.
Harry laughed harshly, still thumbing her clit lazily, keeping her motor going
but not getting her off. “You can’t even take it all! You’re just a little girl
playing at dominatrix, but I could push half-again more ‘demon cock’ into you
if your cunt wasn’t as shallow as your façade.” He looked down, acknowledged
that he was exaggerating- she had taken all but the last handful of
centimeters- and began pulling back. The no-longer virgin under him groaned,
and after slowly dragging a hand’s width out of her, paused until she looked at
him, breathing heavily. Waiting for her to open her mouth, he cut off whatever
she went to say as he shoved back in, bouncing his helmet against her cervix
again, pulling a squeak from her instead, and started pumping that same track
back and forth, not sparing force.
“Fuck. You. You. Fucking. Animal.” She dropped her head back to the desk, both
of her hands going to her chest, roughly massaging her chest as her best friend
rhythmically pounded her tight hole. Laughing, he let go of her knee, reaching
for her shirt, the incubus roughly ripped it open, scattering buttons and
tearing the fabric in places, pulling a startled squeak from his partner. Still
thrusting forcefully, his hand then slid up her thin stomach, pushing her bra
up over her breasts, and her hands simply found their way back to the swaying
orbs. He watched her body as he pushed into her over and over, her gasping face
framed by her wild hair, her hastily bared body the epitome of sexiness in his
testosterone-drowned mind. Small hands applied needy pressure on tits they
couldn’t hope to properly contain, and the flesh wobbled enticingly in a
frequency he dictated with his strong thrusts. Her body was thin and tapered in
to her appealing waist, flaring out subtly to her thin hips, where her skirt
still resided, hitched up and useful only as a lewd decoration. Cotton panties
still hung from her ankle, both legs held up and out, spreading herself for
him.
“Animal?” Harry buried himself in his first female friend, making sure to push
just farther than was comfortable, pushing against her sensitive insides. “If I
fuck like an animal…” The incubus pulled out, before roughly rolling her onto
her stomach, wrenching her hips over the edge of the desk and pulling her up
onto her tiptoes, feet spread more than shoulder width. “…Then clearly you want
to be fucked like an animal.” He slammed home, likely bruising her cervix if he
hadn’t already, and she shouted an obscenity. One hand stayed on her hip, the
other wormed under her, finding her sensitive clit again, working his fingers
over it, quicker now. Hermione pressed her face against the heavy desk, openly
moaning, hands gripping the edge of the desk, and Harry could just make out the
sides of her breasts squishing out under her chest as they pressed into the
cold wood. Rutting into her like the animal she accused him of being, he worked
her nub roughly, working her up toward the coming end. “What would your parents
say? Your good, Christian mother, so proud of her studious daughter? How
scandalized would she be, seeing you screaming obscenities as you cum on an
incubus cock, giving your virginity to summon a demon?” The witch whimpered,
clearly overwhelmed by sensation and his turnabout, knuckles white, and he
suspected she may be biting into the desk’s edge.
He thrust in silence for a few minutes, both of them soaking in the lewd sounds
of the act, the labored breathing and pleased gasps, the wet plunging and
slapping of hips on asscheeks, the squeak of the desk against the stone floor.
Soon, Hermione’s tight, gripping walls were too much for the boy. “Close?” She
moaned in the affirmative, pushing herself up and starting to thrust back at
him, her voice growing louder with each thrust, until her knees and elbows
failed as she shouted inarticulately, barely catching herself. Harry was undone
by her orgasm, and almost failed to pull out in time, but with his own shout of
“FUCK!” he wrenched himself back, pulling free, and his brain shut down as he
watched his best friend drop to her knees where she stood, bending backward,
one hand balancing herself as the other primped up her tit, her face and chest
presented for him. Hermione stuck out her tongue, staring up past his cock into
Harry’s face as he pumped his fist over his slick cock twice, before the first
rope of cum erupted from him, streaking over her inverted face, starting at her
cheek, running a badly-drawn line across her tongue, over her chin, onto her
slender neck. The still orgasming witch jumped lightly at the impact, groaning
at the heat. His next shot arced a little farther, splattering against the
sizable, pale tit she presented for him, and she immediately began rubbing it
into her skin. Another rope landed on her forehead, and started to drip up into
her hairline, and as Harry rolled his head back, lost in the sensation, he
didn’t notice the last of his orgasm land in her wild mane of curls. He felt
her collapse backward, her warm shoulders contacting his bare shins, body
shivering. He looked down at her awkward position, her feet by her hips like
she was doing some kind of athletics stretch, her torso sort of draped between
where it was propped up on his shins and where her hips rest on the stone
floor. She hummed as she ran her hands up his calves, unthinkingly smearing his
semen into his right leg.
“You’re so warm.” The satisfied witch sounded out of it, and Harry laughed.
“Mmm. Laugh it up, Potter.”
“No more dog jokes?” He smirked down at her. Hermione opened her dark brown
eyes, a bit of concern in her eyes.
“I… some people get off on… degrading fantasies…” Her eyes drifted away from
his, a guilty look on her face. The young wizard squatted down, ignoring the
fact that this put his softening member directly into her hair, and pulled her
chin back to face him.
“Hermione. You were experimenting with your sexuality.” Emerald eyes tried to
pour sincerity into unsure brown ones. “I wouldn’t expect anything else from
you.” She smiled softly. “It… it was just fantasy, though, right?”
“Oh, Merlin, Harry, of course. I don’t think you’re subhuman, and I’d never
enslave you- anyone, actually.” The muggle-born witch smirked. “Well, the idea
of you pumping an Ubus baby into some stuck up Death-Eater sympathizer is kinda
hot.” They shared a quick laugh. “Mmm. Harry?” He let out an inquisitive ‘hmm.’
“Can you get your dick out of my hair?”
-=-=-
Cleanup was a jovial affair, both parties laughing as they redressed, magicked
buttons back on, vanished the ejaculate Hermione hadn’t rubbed into her skin
(“You got it all in my hair, you arse!”), and in minutes they were back to
business. Harry had his mother’s journal in front of him, sitting in the smell
of sex once again, and read the incantation.
“Ego rogo conloquium cum Rex de Affectio.”
The teens were standing with the student desks, watching the teacher’s desk,
and immediately saw a pair of hands reach out from under the desk, grasping the
legs and pulling a torso from an impossible space, until his knee came free,
foot contacting the ground at last, and Lilu stood up from nothing, towering
over the friends. The demon smoothed his tunic, something Harry recognized as a
slow, calming motion the horned man had done before as well. Lilu bowed at the
waist, reaching out a huge hand to Hermione, greeting her. “Miss Granger,
pleased to meet you.” The witch in question glanced to Harry, who shrugged,
before putting her dainty hand in the demon’s. Locking his bright blue eyes on
hers, he closed to distance to press his warm lips to her knuckles, before
slowly standing, allowing his hands to rest behind his back, making efforts to
appear as polite and non-threatening as possible. “I am called Lilu. Quite the
performance you gave to get me here. I have my doubts, I’ll admit, about the
key to Ubus magic being pheromones. We have no true analog to such on my side
of the veil. Perhaps something for you to research, no?” He turned his gaze to
Harry. “I must apologize, Harry, I did not think you would take the news so
harshly last time, I forget that humanity has changed much over the millennia,
that pregnancy is somewhat more… nuanced and controversial now.”
“I should also apologize.” Harry frowned, forcing himself not to shuffle his
feet as the progenitor of his newfound race looked on him with a kind
expression. “I shouldn’t have run out like that, you clearly had more
information you wanted me to have. That was… childish of me.”
Lilu brought one hand from behind his back to wave off the idea. “Don’t dwell
on it, young Harry. My sisters reminded me that childhood lingers more than I
remember it. The Ubus gene adapted to the idea of adolescence faster than I.
Which brings me to one of the major points I wanted to explain.” The demon
returned his hand behind his back, again resuming his polite posture. “You are
currently entering a… second puberty, of sorts. Your incubus traits- the
pheromone release, the increased libido- are coming to fruition now, and this
is… atypical timing.”
Hermione elbowed her friend, muttering, “Classic Harry.” The incubus in
question rolled his eyes, before waiting for further explanation.
“Generally, this change happens at the onset of adulthood, as characterized by
leaving home. The stress of leaving a familiar environment triggers the change.
However, significant trauma can force the change early.” Hermione glanced
sidelong at her friend, trying to gauge how Harry took the reminder that he had
seen a friend die, that a lich was out to kill him. A pang of grief entered the
young man’s eyes, but steeling himself, he nodded for Lilu to continue. “There
are upsides to this, however. You will become more powerful, far more so than
you would have become as a wizard alone.”
“…But?”
“…But, as I’m sure you’ve already noticed, your natural urges will be stronger
than ever, and will grow for quite some time.” Harry looked back on his
inability to turn Parvati away in the heat of the moment, and wondered how much
worse it would get. Would he start to force himself on women? Inflict his
unnatural infatuation on them intentionally?
Hermione spoke up for the first time. “Why are some people, like I seem to be,
immune to his… power?”
“Prudent question. With a nuanced answer. The broadest factor being that it
doesn’t work on beings with no possible attraction to the Ubus in question- a
succubus cannot seduce a gay man, for example. If the Ubus is not attracted to
the being in question, the magic of the pheromones will not target them- it
isn’t a blanket effect, like you’ve observed in the veela. Lastly, the group
you, young Hermione, clearly fall into, is not nearly so clean- and the
simplest answer is that I don’t truly know. There is a chance it is affecting
you but you are in considerably more control of yourself than others, but these
pheromones are known to- very rarely- drive partners so far as to change their
entire personality in order to become lovers with the Ubus that they’ve become
infatuated with. Lily Potter theorized some kind of spectrum of susceptibility,
with the pheromone having different levels of effectiveness on a being based on
their genetics. My sisters also contend that their branches of love offer
protection, something many Ubus hold as folk wisdom, often seeking Lilith’s
help in fostering a loving friendship, to find companionship that isn’t
temporary lust. I cannot say for sure.”
The brainy brunette looked to her dark-haired friend with a disappointed frown.
Harry, however, had caught on a certain phrase. “Why is it temporary?”
Lilu closed his eyes, sighing with no small amount of pain. “This is the
adaptation that hurts my children the most, but was essential to their survival
for so long.” Opening his otherworldly blue eyes, he stared sadly at Harry.
“Upon conception, the effect of the incubus pheromone is abruptly canceled.
This incentivized these new incubi to wander, rather than roost like their
predecessors. By cutting the infatuation, the incubus had no reason to stay- he
was unloved where he was- and the pregnant being has no reason to follow, and
is generally left with nothing more than a strange feeling that she was
tricked.”
“That’s terrible!” Hermione uttered, before looking to Harry, whose mouth was
hanging open, horror and understanding dawning on his face.
-=-=-
Harry excused himself to the corner of the room, unable to absorb more, and
Hermione, who he assured could not console him at the moment, dutifully grilled
Lilu for more information, scribbling what she could in her deciphered
notebook. While the metamagic and Ubus history lesson stretched on behind him,
The Boy Who Lived stared at his hands, mourning the family he’d always wanted
and now could never have. He could find a girl to stay with him anyway, but he
had no desire for a loveless marriage with kids doomed to the same fate. And
then it dawned on him- every child, every Ubus he sired would live this hellish
existence, with no true lovers, no true family. This must be why the species
was going extinct, who would wish this on others?
“Young Harry?” The distraught incubus raised his eyes to the friendly demon
before him, seeing him in a new light. His creation, a creature that thrived on
love, had changed itself in ways he hadn’t predicted, and in an attempt to save
itself, had cut off its own limbs, and now struggled to exist at all. It was
profoundly sad. Lilu’s children, the progeny of the stylized King of Love, were
doomed to die alone and unloved. “My time runs short for this trip.” Harry
glanced to Hermione, who was reading through her notes, and he glanced back to
Lilu, who still stood in his polite stance, hands clasped behind his back. “Two
things, before I go. I think you see now, why your mother wanted to change
their image, to cleanse their history. Maybe, if they were more accepted, if
they could settle down again…” The demon closed his eyes, sighing. “Maybe.”
Lilu brought his hands in front of him, clapping them before his chest as he
opened his eyes again. “Secondly, something I should’ve told you already. I was
going to, but didn’t want you to sprint out again, and then it slipped my mind
until now.” He began to pull his hands slowly apart, and between them a length
of papyrus materialized, ink spreading across it before two sets of amazed
eyes. “You were followed here, and spied upon. This girl watched and listened
to your lovemaking, and was so overcome with lust that her every thought
spawned new pools of magic on my side of the veil, and so directing it back
through you, one of these pools can manifest as her likeness.” Finally, he
closed his fingers around the opposite ends of the scroll, presenting the
portrait of a girl very clearly mid-orgasm, lips open in a gasping, strangled
moan. “I do not have a name, but her thoughts of you tell me she knows you. I
hope this helps.” Lilu bowed deeply again, sweeping one hand under his torso,
his other lightly placing the scroll on the desk behind him, before his entire
body disintegrated into a fine dust, evaporating into the air around where he’d
stood.
Harry and Hermione approached the desk, staring down at the photorealistic
image of one of their classmates, features screwed up in pleasure, one pale
blue eye visible, the other hidden behind her long black bangs, all perched
above the most disconcerting detail of the picture- a silver and green tie.
“Tracey Davis knows you’re an Incubus.”
-=-=-
 
Chapter End Notes
     A/N- Alright, dunno how this chapter will be received. Guess we’ll
     see.
     Next thing I write will probably be a LoL oneshot featuring Xayah and
     Rakan pumping (lulz) some Brotherhood of Shadows grunts for intel.
     Hope everyone is in the mood for some violence with their smut.
     Next chapter of this will feature two major conversations- one of
     which will be Fleur. Writing her is going to be… difficult. She’s
     hard to capture well without distorting her into an unlikeable parody
     of her character.
     Also, contemplating summing up Hermione’s notes and just posting them
     as a between-chapter, or slowly working some of the factoids into
     dialogue. Thoughts?
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