Harry Potter & The Children of the Night
Harry Potter
The Children of the Night
-by Lady Nichola Valerius
Previously, on Harry Potter and the Children of the Night:
“Faster, Harry, time’s almost up.” Harry, tired as he was, used every ounce of his energy to move faster to get his goal. CRACK! “Yes! That was great, Harry!” Vidar cheered as Harry fell tiredly onto the grassy lawn. Vidar laughed as he skipped over to his friend. “Come on, I will help you get to bed.”
“Thanks, Vidar,” Harry said as Vidar changed his clothes magically, before falling asleep.
~Chapter 7~
Hermione:
Harry, I’m Here!
“Harry?” Groaning, he turned over to see his soul-sister. “Morning, caro,” she said affectionately as she cast a cleansing charm on him. Harry felt his mouth become dry, before the familiar flavor of minty cleanliness flooded his taste buds.
“Morning, mi cara,” he answered. Emera kissed him gently, waking him up slowly. “Better than coffee.,” he said when she pulled away.
“I have a surprise for you. In the East Wing,” she murmured, before wrapping her arm around his neck and kissing him again. Harry felt his mind drift away once again, as it did every time Emera kissed him. He tightened his hold on her, before moving his hands up above her waist. When she pulled away, Harry growled and pulled her back into his arms, but she insisted on letting go and he groaned in dismay. “Go to the door that holds the carvings of Eden. Your surprise will be there.” Harry prevented her from saying anything else by kissing her again, though this time, it was more fierce and insistent. “Hey, come on. You need to shower, and get dressed to impress. We have a guest attending,” Emera said, as Harry pushed her against the bathroom door.
“I’d rather not get dressed, and you can join me in the shower,” Harry suggested, nipping at her neck. “I missed you.” He stopped biting at her and just held her, feeling the urge to stay close to her. Emera wove her arms around him and sighed, saying, “I missed you too, caro.” The two of them stayed like that for a while, but then Harry started to suck on her weak zone, just above her neck and behind her ear, and Emera felt the familiar stirrings of desire sweep through her. “Alright, maybe we do have time for a shower.” She felt Harry’s triumphant grin as he pushed the door open carefully, guiding her in and kicking it shut once again. Emera heard the faint telltale click of the door locking itself. “Hmm… Showing off some wandless magic, huh?” she growled in his ear. Harry wiggled his fingers and Emera’s clothes disappeared.
“Only for you,” Harry said honestly, groaning as she tore his sleepwear off. “You got a thing for ruining clothes?” he teased.
“Just yours,” Emera countered as she steered him into the shower area. She heard his head hit the wall hard as she sucked on him once again. “Mmmm…” she hummed, thinking how lucky she was that she didn’t need to breathe. Actually, it’s Harry who’s lucky that I don’t need to breathe. Her ears twitched as she heard Harry make those adorable sounds once again. “Tempero.” At this, Harry made a choked sound as he felt the effects of the spell. “Like that?” she asked him coyly. She looked up just in time to see Harry’s eyes roll back and she grinned wickedly as his hands untangled themselves from her hair and began to roam over his body. “Ohh, you tease,” she said smugly as Harry touched himself.
“You- spell,” Harry tried to say, but the feeling of his hands teasing himself when he had no control over them was arousing. He felt so many things at once, Emera’s mouth, his own hands on his body, his muscles tensing and untensing, and- “Oh gods, Lìa.” A whooshing sound was heard and water began to spray on his body, sending more pleasurable sensations to course through him. “Sweet Circe, yes…” He didn’t notice when Emera’s hand released him to catch a thin cylinder, his mind too preoccupied with the movements of her mouth. She moved it between her legs and pumped it into her, her eyes closing as she let her magic control it. Then, when she felt her climax reach the top, she took it out of her and felt her orgasm retreat.
Emera hummed once more as she loosened Harry’s muscles to insert the cold, lubricated cylinder into him. Harry cried out, not expecting the intrusion. “Shh, don’t worry, caro, I’ll be careful.” She left it in him and made his muscles contract slightly, just enough so that the cylinder wouldn’t fall. She turned her attention back on a panting Harry. His hand, controlled by Emera, stopped tweaking his nipple and reached behind him, clutching the cylinder and pulling it out. She let it out slowly, before pushing back in just as slow. Harry was breathing harder now. “Like that, caro?” she asked him, watching his face while her hands fondled his cock.
“Yes,” Harry answered.
“How much?”
“So much, Lìa,” he groaned, just as Emera used the spell to make his hand push it in hard. Harry made the strangled noise that Emera had come to love hearing, and she let go of the spell. Harry, feeling the control slip back to him, took his left hand off his body and tangled it once more in Emera’s hair as she began to work her mouth on him in earnest. He experimented with the cylinder as he pulled it out and pushed it in again and again. He felt the pressure in his balls rise and tightened his hold on it. As he did, the cylinder vibrated against his prostrate, sending him over the edge and into a violent climax. Emera eagerly lapped up his release and milked him dry. Harry, panting, took the cylinder out of his arse and Emera grabbed it. She gave him a grin worthy of a Cheshire cat as she made the cylinder vanish.
“Can’t let you see my toys, caro,” she said, thighs moving together. Harry remembered that she hadn’t come yet and promptly forgot about her toys.
“I don’t care,” he said, his voice lowering just right. Emera recognized that tone and, for all her legendary control, it made her shiver. Harry turned her around to brace them against the wall as he took a bit of her flesh in his mouth, sucking gently on another of her weak zones. Emera threw her head back and let out a deep groan, clutching his head to her breast as he suckled. Heat suddenly flashed on the space above her heart, a sign that her father, or mother, was calling her. But she couldn’t just appear there like this. Well, actually I can, but poor Harry will be pulled along with me, she said to herself, an amused grin spreading over her face at the thought. “What?” Harry asked, his lips brushing over her skin as his eyes looked deeply into her emerald orbs.
“Nothing, someone’s c-calling me,” she answered with a groan. She let her head fall onto his shoulder and he steadied her.
“Will you go?” Harry inquired, his head hovering over her breast, eyes now drifting over the Valerius symbol on her flesh. It was glowing a dark reddish color, as if someone had painted it using blood. That shade of red was a sign in which she was, indeed, being summoned. Meaning that if she gave him the chance, he’d have to hurry her release. Harry pouted as he waited for her decision.
“Of course,” Emera said finally, fact in her voice. “But you have to make me come first.” Harry’s crestfallen expression morphed into a devilish smirk as Emera pushed against the wall, sinking onto his lap and burying him deep in her. He fisted a hand in her hair and wrapped an arm around her waist as he worked to bring them both to completion. Moans and pants and cries of pleasure echoed around the steaming bathroom, accompanied by the sound of flesh slapping against flesh and words that shouldn’t be heard by young children. “I’m so close, caro, so bloody close,” she moaned in his ear, “Faster, Harry, harder.”
“Oh gods, Lìa, you’re so good, so good,” Harry murmured over and over, feeling her muscles contract as she climaxed, her face a perfect picture of ecstasy. “That’s it, cara, let it go,” he whispered to her, feeling her shudder in warning. “Oh gods,” he groaned, biting down on her neck as he emptied himself in her. They sat there for a while, under the hot spray of water, trying to compose themselves. Harry sucked on the blood spilling from her neck, licking her flesh clean and grinning at the thought that he would soon be her true kin.
“Getting better every time,” Emera commented, a serene smile on her face. Harry grinned, brushing a few wet strands of hair off her face. His eyes snapped back to the bite he gave her as it slowly mended, the marks remaining as the wound closed. Emera watched him as his eyes betrayed a fascination to her skin, and she finally gave in to the urge to kiss him, her tongue entering his mouth. Courtesy of her vampire senses, she could taste her own blood, as well as her flesh on his tongue, a blend of apples and clean skin, and his own unique taste. “You, my darling brother, will soon be a sex god,” she teased, chuckling as his cheeks flushed. “But of course, that’s only if you get enough practice.” She ran her nails hard against his back.
Harry grunted in primal satisfaction, his hands stroking her back leisurely. Then he sighed. “You’d better answer that call. They could get impatient.” Emera sighed as well, giving him one more thorough kiss before standing to cover herself with new clothes. Harry started to clean himself up, still watching his soul-sister out of the corner of his eye. When she had left, Harry sighed, thinking how the past month has made his life more different and complicated than before. He never thought that he’d ever be intimate with a girl, especially a person who was supposedly his sister. And he also never imagined that he’d have sex at 16, well, 15 ½, so how likely was it that he’d be into rough sex? Very likely, it seems. Gods, it’s been a strange experience, a strange month, a strange five years, actually, he thought with a start. But I wouldn’t exchange it for all the happiness in the world, because if I did, I’d have never met my friends, and I’d have never met Emera. Harry got out of the shower and dried himself, before throwing clothes on his body. “Dress to impress,” Emera had said. Harry couldn’t care less how he looked; it was whom he was meeting that bothered him.
I just hope I could make an ally out of him.
The door that holds the carvings of Eden, Harry repeated in his mind and as he turned yet another corner, the door suddenly appeared before him. Harry smiled slightly, reminded of Hogwarts’ Room of Requirements. Casa di Valerii was one of those labyrinth-type manors, with lots of rooms and secret hiding places. Emera had shown him a few passages (most of them were ways to get to the main areas of the Casa) that no one else knew about, and had promised to show him more. Harry had already discovered 3 on his own, by accident of course.
Pausing to check his person, Harry made sure that his wand was on his right middle finger, transfigured into a ring the Potter crest. Emera had taken out her old book of pureblood families and Harry found his own bloodline on the P’s section, page 731. Surprisingly enough, the Potter family crest was of a dragon. Not a lion, or any type of feline, but a dragon. It was reminiscent to that of a winged serpent, slender and flexible. Emera had made him transfigure his wand into the ring after studying the Potter crest inch by inch. It had taken him a few tries before his wand flipped over and twisted itself into the correct ring. Emera had been so proud of him.
Harry grinned goofily as he remembered the happenings of that night. But then he remembered he was meeting someone. He straightened himself out and turned the knob. He entered a room lavishly decorated with the most comfortable-looking furniture and tasteful designs. French doors led to the balcony that overlooked the Casa’s garden. Harry looked around as he walked across the room. The room had a blue theme to it, soft on the eyes and yet not unfashionable at the same time. There was a large, king-sized bed, bedside tables, a work area, two bookshelves, a boudoir, and-
“Harry?”
Her voice made him stop cold in his tracks. “Hermione?” he asked aloud, disbelief in his voice. Then a grin spread across his face as he took in her presence. “Hermione!” He rushed over to where she stood near the railing and gave her a hug, inhaling her peach scent. He pushed her away from him slightly. “What are you doing here?” he asked her. “Who brought you in?”
“Emera Valerius did, she said that she would explain everything when we got here, but I haven’t seen her since I exited the car.” Harry heard the slight tremble in her voice. Way to go, Potter! While you were off screwing your soul-sister, your best friend was getting scared out of her wits being surrounded by vampires! His conscience said. Harry pulled his eyes down to the light-shaded blue carpet, shame-faced.
“Gods, I’m so sorry, Hermione! If I knew you were coming-” he tried to say, but she waved it off.
“Emera said that my arrival was a surprise for you,” Hermione said, her eye gaining a twinkle almost identical to Dumbledore’s. “Were you surprised?”
“You bet I was!” Harry exclaimed, a grin forming on his face. “I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”
“What do you mean?” Hermione asked, her eyebrows coming together.
“Well, I… sort of requested that you be brought here, and I was expecting you tomorrow at the least.” Harry smiled. “I’ll have to thank Emera for getting you.” His smile suddenly held more mischievousness than joy. Hermione studied him as he stared out the window next to them. She couldn’t believe her eyes. She was ashamed to say it, but she was expecting to see the same scrawny, thin, underfed boy she saw at the Burrow during the summer holidays. But no, that boy was no more. He was still short in height, about 5 ft. 8 inches, but muscles were visible on his biceps, chest; his broad shoulders and lean stomach were visible under the tight shirt, signifying physical work out during the past dew weeks, at least.
Something shiny caught her eye and she focused her attention on it, revealing a necklace- a chain to be more precise. A slight bulge underneath his neckline told her that there was a pendant attached to the chain. A black leather band wrapped around his right wrist while a silver leather band wrapped around the opposite wrist. His hands twitched slightly, bringing her attention to the gold ring on his finger. She looked back up to his face to find his lips twitching slowly into a grin, thus prompting her to say something. “What is that?” she asked, pointing to the chain. His eyes (and attention) snapped back to her, the intensely fierce gaze catching her by surprise.
Harry saw her stance falter a bit and he relaxed his body. “Sorry, Hermione, I- er, forgot that you were there,” he apologized sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. He’s nervous, Hermione realized. “This?” he asked, taking out the pendant, a simple silver pentacle. “It was a welcoming gift from Lord Orad Vitalia, Emera’s uncle. He’s Emera’s mother’s brother.” Hermione nodded, storing the information for future use. “Since I don’t have the Valerius mark yet, this is- er, sort of the substitute,” Harry explained.
“And that?” She was pointing at the ring on his finger. Harry gave her a quick once over, which Hermione did not see. Should I tell her? He asked himself. Maybe she can help me solve the mystery on why the Potter crest is a dragon instead of a lion, like I thought before… But… Harry felt Hermione’s curiosity rage when he remained silent. “Harry?”
“Why are you asking, Hermione?” he inquired, truly confused by all the questions.
“Forgive me, Harry, but I can’t believe that it is you,” Hermione said frankly, “For all I know, you could be a stranger who used Polyjuice potion to attain Harry’s image. You most certainly don’t look the same. No glasses, stockier in the muscular sense, more…confident of yourself, need I go on?” Hermione asked him, her voice apologizing. Harry grinned at her.
“No, you don’t need to go on, I understand,” Harry said, his grin proud and approving. “I admire that Hermione, but don’t think I can’t read between the lines. You’re worried about my health, physically, mentally, and emotionally, and I’m not saying it’s a bad thing,” he added quickly, seeing her open her mouth to object, “I know what’s going through your head, Hermione. Sirius is dead, poor boy, what’s he gone through, going through right now…” Harry saw her eye twitch at his godfather’s name.
“You’re not Harry,” she declared. “He wouldn’t say Sirius’ name so carelessly after…”
“Sirius is alive, Hermione,” Harry said softly, trying to make her believe without recalling any private memories. He wanted her to recognize him on her own. “He wrote to me, sent me an owl- sent me Emera.” He sighed, resting his hands onto the railing nearby. “If he didn’t write, if he didn’t give me the Helper, I’d still be at the Dursley’s house, starving, helpless, and weak.” He pinned Hermione with his emerald gaze, his eyes expressive and open for her to read. “Emera saved me, Hermione. She saved me from my private hell, taught me how to fight… She refused Voldemort for me, to help me… To help me kill him.” His voice faltered, eyes widening as shame, apprehension, and fear appeared in his eyes. Then, as if a dam broke, Harry told her everything. Sirius’ letter, Emera’s appearance, his life at the Manor, and finally, the prophecy.
Hermione’s eyes widened with each tale, gasping as his eyes dimmed at the mention of the prophecy. There he was, her best friend, Harry James Evans Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the boy who, by defeating the most feared Dark Lord in history, saved countless lives, the boy who saved her just months before. She stroked her stomach through the soft fabric of her shirt, feeling the scar that Antonin Dolohov had inflicted on her. Harry’s eyes held fear, the same fear that had been expressed when he saw her fall, the fear of taking a life, the fear of being a murderer. “Oh, Harry,” she murmured, her left hand falling on his shoulder.
“I don’t want to kill him, Hermione… But I don’t want to die either…” Harry confessed, his eyes filling with tears. “Gods, I know that sounds selfish but-”
“It’s okay to be selfish sometimes,” Hermione cut him off. Her eyes widened when he suddenly hugged her, tightly. His body was trembling and she felt wetness on her shoulder. “Oh, Harry…”
“You- gods, Hermione, I’m so sorry…” he pulled away slightly, smoothing her already neat hair down, as if to comfort her. But then Hermione realized that by doing it, Harry was comforting himself. “I wish I’d listened to you. Then I wouldn’t have put any of you in danger. Sirius wouldn’t have been stuck in Milan with the Zabini’s, Ron wouldn’t have been attacked by that- that brain thing, and you… You wouldn’t have…” he faltered at this point, his eyes going down her body to stare at her stomach. “Can I…”
Hermione said nothing, but tucked out the cotton shirt from her denims and placed his hands on the last button. She saw his eyes flicker, fear crossing them once again. Oh Harry, I’m so sorry for doubting you… I’ll never do it again, she swore to herself, instinctively needing to protect him. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously. He knelt before her, his face level to her midsection. He undid the buttons, making his way up slowly. He pushed the folds aside, revealing the scar immediately. He undid some more buttons, needing to see the effects of his decision. From the right side of her stomach, the thick line made it’s way up past where Harry dared to see.
He traced it hesitantly, making Hermione’s flesh tingle as goose bumps appeared around the injury. Oh…Gods, Harry, don’t do that! She thought to herself as the action caused her to tingle in places she shouldn’t around her best friend. She bit in a moan and concentrated on Harry’s guilt-filled eyes, the grief in him sobering her up instantly. Bad Hermione! Bad! “Hermione…” Harry choked her name out, tears spilling from him eyes, “How- how long did it take you to heal?” he asked her. His eyes begged for the truth, for her honesty, and she’ll be damned if she lied to him.
“Two and a half weeks. I spent a week in a coma; three of those days were magically induced because the Healers didn’t want me in pain while my body was healing. The other week was spent trying to get my midsection to feel anything and stop being numb …” she trailed off hesitantly.
“And?” Harry asked, his voice thick with guilt and regret. “What? Please tell me. Hermione, please… Don’t hide it from me.”
Hermione closed her eyes, not wanting to tell him something so private, yet unwilling to deny him what he asked. “The doctors-” she started to say, but her voice broke at the last word. She cleared her throat, feeling tears sting her eyes. “The muggle doctors told me that my right ovary was…affected. It won’t be producing eggs anymore,” she said, her words ending in a whisper. Harry sobbed, his head against her stomach.
“Hermione, I’m so sorry- So sorry…” Harry whispered, his words breaking her heart. Hermione tried to comfort him, understanding why he was so broken over her situation.
“Harry, it’s okay… I- I can still have kids,” Hermione said, kneeling as well. She placed both hands on his cheeks, gently forcing him to look at her. “Harry, it’s okay. It’s not your fault-”
“Yes it is!” Harry cried his hands wrapping around her wrists. “You, of all people know that! I dragged you out there… I thought I was saving Sirius. I thought, so foolishly, that a group of kids could take on full-grown Death Eaters and come out unscathed. I was reckless, Hermione…” he pulled a hand up to his lips and kissed it by the knuckles. Hermione sucked in a mouthful of air, aware that her body was heating up again. “That’s why I came here with Emera. To be able to think on my feet, to rely more on my mind than my magic…to be able to avoid putting you in harm’s way.” His eyes begged her to understand, begged her to forgive him. She did, and she has.
“Harry…” Hermione found herself crying. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Harry Potter. You are able to think on your feet. You found a way to get to the Ministry of Magic, didn’t you? You were able to rely on your memory, to get us to the Department of Mysteries… If that isn’t relying on your mind, then I don’t know what is!” she exclaimed, trying to comfort him. He just cried harder. “Harry, don’t be too hard on yourself. You kept us alive there, Harry. Long enough for Dumbledore and the Order to save us, to take us home. You saved us.” Her amber eyes held his green ones captive. Hermione smiled, lips parting to speak once more, but Harry stiffened suddenly. His eyes darted to the room and then he relaxed. Hermione turned her head and found Emera behind them.
“Lìa,” he murmured, his eyes red-rimmed and cheeks tear-strained.
Emera took in his appearance and asked him softly, “What happened?”
“We… talked,” Harry said, his eyes searching Hermione’s for permission to tell his soul-sister. Her eyes told him everything he needed to know. “About what happened in the Department of Mysteries.” Emera’s eyes flickered in understanding. She held her hand out to Harry and he took it. Hermione noticed something about them. They seemed too…intimate.
“You okay, caro?” Emera asked, holding a worried look. Harry squeezed her hand for a second, and Emera understood that he was fine. “Hermione?” she turned to the brown-haired girl. Emera felt a brief pang of irritation at the mortal. She did nothing wrong, they were bound to talk about this sooner, she thought to herself. She gave Hermione a half-smile. “Are you hungry?”
Hermione reciprocated the action. “Depends on what you’re serving.”
The Children of the Night
-by Lady Nichola Valerius
Previously, on Harry Potter and the Children of the Night:
“Faster, Harry, time’s almost up.” Harry, tired as he was, used every ounce of his energy to move faster to get his goal. CRACK! “Yes! That was great, Harry!” Vidar cheered as Harry fell tiredly onto the grassy lawn. Vidar laughed as he skipped over to his friend. “Come on, I will help you get to bed.”
“Thanks, Vidar,” Harry said as Vidar changed his clothes magically, before falling asleep.
~Chapter 7~
Hermione:
Harry, I’m Here!
“Harry?” Groaning, he turned over to see his soul-sister. “Morning, caro,” she said affectionately as she cast a cleansing charm on him. Harry felt his mouth become dry, before the familiar flavor of minty cleanliness flooded his taste buds.
“Morning, mi cara,” he answered. Emera kissed him gently, waking him up slowly. “Better than coffee.,” he said when she pulled away.
“I have a surprise for you. In the East Wing,” she murmured, before wrapping her arm around his neck and kissing him again. Harry felt his mind drift away once again, as it did every time Emera kissed him. He tightened his hold on her, before moving his hands up above her waist. When she pulled away, Harry growled and pulled her back into his arms, but she insisted on letting go and he groaned in dismay. “Go to the door that holds the carvings of Eden. Your surprise will be there.” Harry prevented her from saying anything else by kissing her again, though this time, it was more fierce and insistent. “Hey, come on. You need to shower, and get dressed to impress. We have a guest attending,” Emera said, as Harry pushed her against the bathroom door.
“I’d rather not get dressed, and you can join me in the shower,” Harry suggested, nipping at her neck. “I missed you.” He stopped biting at her and just held her, feeling the urge to stay close to her. Emera wove her arms around him and sighed, saying, “I missed you too, caro.” The two of them stayed like that for a while, but then Harry started to suck on her weak zone, just above her neck and behind her ear, and Emera felt the familiar stirrings of desire sweep through her. “Alright, maybe we do have time for a shower.” She felt Harry’s triumphant grin as he pushed the door open carefully, guiding her in and kicking it shut once again. Emera heard the faint telltale click of the door locking itself. “Hmm… Showing off some wandless magic, huh?” she growled in his ear. Harry wiggled his fingers and Emera’s clothes disappeared.
“Only for you,” Harry said honestly, groaning as she tore his sleepwear off. “You got a thing for ruining clothes?” he teased.
“Just yours,” Emera countered as she steered him into the shower area. She heard his head hit the wall hard as she sucked on him once again. “Mmmm…” she hummed, thinking how lucky she was that she didn’t need to breathe. Actually, it’s Harry who’s lucky that I don’t need to breathe. Her ears twitched as she heard Harry make those adorable sounds once again. “Tempero.” At this, Harry made a choked sound as he felt the effects of the spell. “Like that?” she asked him coyly. She looked up just in time to see Harry’s eyes roll back and she grinned wickedly as his hands untangled themselves from her hair and began to roam over his body. “Ohh, you tease,” she said smugly as Harry touched himself.
“You- spell,” Harry tried to say, but the feeling of his hands teasing himself when he had no control over them was arousing. He felt so many things at once, Emera’s mouth, his own hands on his body, his muscles tensing and untensing, and- “Oh gods, Lìa.” A whooshing sound was heard and water began to spray on his body, sending more pleasurable sensations to course through him. “Sweet Circe, yes…” He didn’t notice when Emera’s hand released him to catch a thin cylinder, his mind too preoccupied with the movements of her mouth. She moved it between her legs and pumped it into her, her eyes closing as she let her magic control it. Then, when she felt her climax reach the top, she took it out of her and felt her orgasm retreat.
Emera hummed once more as she loosened Harry’s muscles to insert the cold, lubricated cylinder into him. Harry cried out, not expecting the intrusion. “Shh, don’t worry, caro, I’ll be careful.” She left it in him and made his muscles contract slightly, just enough so that the cylinder wouldn’t fall. She turned her attention back on a panting Harry. His hand, controlled by Emera, stopped tweaking his nipple and reached behind him, clutching the cylinder and pulling it out. She let it out slowly, before pushing back in just as slow. Harry was breathing harder now. “Like that, caro?” she asked him, watching his face while her hands fondled his cock.
“Yes,” Harry answered.
“How much?”
“So much, Lìa,” he groaned, just as Emera used the spell to make his hand push it in hard. Harry made the strangled noise that Emera had come to love hearing, and she let go of the spell. Harry, feeling the control slip back to him, took his left hand off his body and tangled it once more in Emera’s hair as she began to work her mouth on him in earnest. He experimented with the cylinder as he pulled it out and pushed it in again and again. He felt the pressure in his balls rise and tightened his hold on it. As he did, the cylinder vibrated against his prostrate, sending him over the edge and into a violent climax. Emera eagerly lapped up his release and milked him dry. Harry, panting, took the cylinder out of his arse and Emera grabbed it. She gave him a grin worthy of a Cheshire cat as she made the cylinder vanish.
“Can’t let you see my toys, caro,” she said, thighs moving together. Harry remembered that she hadn’t come yet and promptly forgot about her toys.
“I don’t care,” he said, his voice lowering just right. Emera recognized that tone and, for all her legendary control, it made her shiver. Harry turned her around to brace them against the wall as he took a bit of her flesh in his mouth, sucking gently on another of her weak zones. Emera threw her head back and let out a deep groan, clutching his head to her breast as he suckled. Heat suddenly flashed on the space above her heart, a sign that her father, or mother, was calling her. But she couldn’t just appear there like this. Well, actually I can, but poor Harry will be pulled along with me, she said to herself, an amused grin spreading over her face at the thought. “What?” Harry asked, his lips brushing over her skin as his eyes looked deeply into her emerald orbs.
“Nothing, someone’s c-calling me,” she answered with a groan. She let her head fall onto his shoulder and he steadied her.
“Will you go?” Harry inquired, his head hovering over her breast, eyes now drifting over the Valerius symbol on her flesh. It was glowing a dark reddish color, as if someone had painted it using blood. That shade of red was a sign in which she was, indeed, being summoned. Meaning that if she gave him the chance, he’d have to hurry her release. Harry pouted as he waited for her decision.
“Of course,” Emera said finally, fact in her voice. “But you have to make me come first.” Harry’s crestfallen expression morphed into a devilish smirk as Emera pushed against the wall, sinking onto his lap and burying him deep in her. He fisted a hand in her hair and wrapped an arm around her waist as he worked to bring them both to completion. Moans and pants and cries of pleasure echoed around the steaming bathroom, accompanied by the sound of flesh slapping against flesh and words that shouldn’t be heard by young children. “I’m so close, caro, so bloody close,” she moaned in his ear, “Faster, Harry, harder.”
“Oh gods, Lìa, you’re so good, so good,” Harry murmured over and over, feeling her muscles contract as she climaxed, her face a perfect picture of ecstasy. “That’s it, cara, let it go,” he whispered to her, feeling her shudder in warning. “Oh gods,” he groaned, biting down on her neck as he emptied himself in her. They sat there for a while, under the hot spray of water, trying to compose themselves. Harry sucked on the blood spilling from her neck, licking her flesh clean and grinning at the thought that he would soon be her true kin.
“Getting better every time,” Emera commented, a serene smile on her face. Harry grinned, brushing a few wet strands of hair off her face. His eyes snapped back to the bite he gave her as it slowly mended, the marks remaining as the wound closed. Emera watched him as his eyes betrayed a fascination to her skin, and she finally gave in to the urge to kiss him, her tongue entering his mouth. Courtesy of her vampire senses, she could taste her own blood, as well as her flesh on his tongue, a blend of apples and clean skin, and his own unique taste. “You, my darling brother, will soon be a sex god,” she teased, chuckling as his cheeks flushed. “But of course, that’s only if you get enough practice.” She ran her nails hard against his back.
Harry grunted in primal satisfaction, his hands stroking her back leisurely. Then he sighed. “You’d better answer that call. They could get impatient.” Emera sighed as well, giving him one more thorough kiss before standing to cover herself with new clothes. Harry started to clean himself up, still watching his soul-sister out of the corner of his eye. When she had left, Harry sighed, thinking how the past month has made his life more different and complicated than before. He never thought that he’d ever be intimate with a girl, especially a person who was supposedly his sister. And he also never imagined that he’d have sex at 16, well, 15 ½, so how likely was it that he’d be into rough sex? Very likely, it seems. Gods, it’s been a strange experience, a strange month, a strange five years, actually, he thought with a start. But I wouldn’t exchange it for all the happiness in the world, because if I did, I’d have never met my friends, and I’d have never met Emera. Harry got out of the shower and dried himself, before throwing clothes on his body. “Dress to impress,” Emera had said. Harry couldn’t care less how he looked; it was whom he was meeting that bothered him.
I just hope I could make an ally out of him.
The door that holds the carvings of Eden, Harry repeated in his mind and as he turned yet another corner, the door suddenly appeared before him. Harry smiled slightly, reminded of Hogwarts’ Room of Requirements. Casa di Valerii was one of those labyrinth-type manors, with lots of rooms and secret hiding places. Emera had shown him a few passages (most of them were ways to get to the main areas of the Casa) that no one else knew about, and had promised to show him more. Harry had already discovered 3 on his own, by accident of course.
Pausing to check his person, Harry made sure that his wand was on his right middle finger, transfigured into a ring the Potter crest. Emera had taken out her old book of pureblood families and Harry found his own bloodline on the P’s section, page 731. Surprisingly enough, the Potter family crest was of a dragon. Not a lion, or any type of feline, but a dragon. It was reminiscent to that of a winged serpent, slender and flexible. Emera had made him transfigure his wand into the ring after studying the Potter crest inch by inch. It had taken him a few tries before his wand flipped over and twisted itself into the correct ring. Emera had been so proud of him.
Harry grinned goofily as he remembered the happenings of that night. But then he remembered he was meeting someone. He straightened himself out and turned the knob. He entered a room lavishly decorated with the most comfortable-looking furniture and tasteful designs. French doors led to the balcony that overlooked the Casa’s garden. Harry looked around as he walked across the room. The room had a blue theme to it, soft on the eyes and yet not unfashionable at the same time. There was a large, king-sized bed, bedside tables, a work area, two bookshelves, a boudoir, and-
“Harry?”
Her voice made him stop cold in his tracks. “Hermione?” he asked aloud, disbelief in his voice. Then a grin spread across his face as he took in her presence. “Hermione!” He rushed over to where she stood near the railing and gave her a hug, inhaling her peach scent. He pushed her away from him slightly. “What are you doing here?” he asked her. “Who brought you in?”
“Emera Valerius did, she said that she would explain everything when we got here, but I haven’t seen her since I exited the car.” Harry heard the slight tremble in her voice. Way to go, Potter! While you were off screwing your soul-sister, your best friend was getting scared out of her wits being surrounded by vampires! His conscience said. Harry pulled his eyes down to the light-shaded blue carpet, shame-faced.
“Gods, I’m so sorry, Hermione! If I knew you were coming-” he tried to say, but she waved it off.
“Emera said that my arrival was a surprise for you,” Hermione said, her eye gaining a twinkle almost identical to Dumbledore’s. “Were you surprised?”
“You bet I was!” Harry exclaimed, a grin forming on his face. “I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”
“What do you mean?” Hermione asked, her eyebrows coming together.
“Well, I… sort of requested that you be brought here, and I was expecting you tomorrow at the least.” Harry smiled. “I’ll have to thank Emera for getting you.” His smile suddenly held more mischievousness than joy. Hermione studied him as he stared out the window next to them. She couldn’t believe her eyes. She was ashamed to say it, but she was expecting to see the same scrawny, thin, underfed boy she saw at the Burrow during the summer holidays. But no, that boy was no more. He was still short in height, about 5 ft. 8 inches, but muscles were visible on his biceps, chest; his broad shoulders and lean stomach were visible under the tight shirt, signifying physical work out during the past dew weeks, at least.
Something shiny caught her eye and she focused her attention on it, revealing a necklace- a chain to be more precise. A slight bulge underneath his neckline told her that there was a pendant attached to the chain. A black leather band wrapped around his right wrist while a silver leather band wrapped around the opposite wrist. His hands twitched slightly, bringing her attention to the gold ring on his finger. She looked back up to his face to find his lips twitching slowly into a grin, thus prompting her to say something. “What is that?” she asked, pointing to the chain. His eyes (and attention) snapped back to her, the intensely fierce gaze catching her by surprise.
Harry saw her stance falter a bit and he relaxed his body. “Sorry, Hermione, I- er, forgot that you were there,” he apologized sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. He’s nervous, Hermione realized. “This?” he asked, taking out the pendant, a simple silver pentacle. “It was a welcoming gift from Lord Orad Vitalia, Emera’s uncle. He’s Emera’s mother’s brother.” Hermione nodded, storing the information for future use. “Since I don’t have the Valerius mark yet, this is- er, sort of the substitute,” Harry explained.
“And that?” She was pointing at the ring on his finger. Harry gave her a quick once over, which Hermione did not see. Should I tell her? He asked himself. Maybe she can help me solve the mystery on why the Potter crest is a dragon instead of a lion, like I thought before… But… Harry felt Hermione’s curiosity rage when he remained silent. “Harry?”
“Why are you asking, Hermione?” he inquired, truly confused by all the questions.
“Forgive me, Harry, but I can’t believe that it is you,” Hermione said frankly, “For all I know, you could be a stranger who used Polyjuice potion to attain Harry’s image. You most certainly don’t look the same. No glasses, stockier in the muscular sense, more…confident of yourself, need I go on?” Hermione asked him, her voice apologizing. Harry grinned at her.
“No, you don’t need to go on, I understand,” Harry said, his grin proud and approving. “I admire that Hermione, but don’t think I can’t read between the lines. You’re worried about my health, physically, mentally, and emotionally, and I’m not saying it’s a bad thing,” he added quickly, seeing her open her mouth to object, “I know what’s going through your head, Hermione. Sirius is dead, poor boy, what’s he gone through, going through right now…” Harry saw her eye twitch at his godfather’s name.
“You’re not Harry,” she declared. “He wouldn’t say Sirius’ name so carelessly after…”
“Sirius is alive, Hermione,” Harry said softly, trying to make her believe without recalling any private memories. He wanted her to recognize him on her own. “He wrote to me, sent me an owl- sent me Emera.” He sighed, resting his hands onto the railing nearby. “If he didn’t write, if he didn’t give me the Helper, I’d still be at the Dursley’s house, starving, helpless, and weak.” He pinned Hermione with his emerald gaze, his eyes expressive and open for her to read. “Emera saved me, Hermione. She saved me from my private hell, taught me how to fight… She refused Voldemort for me, to help me… To help me kill him.” His voice faltered, eyes widening as shame, apprehension, and fear appeared in his eyes. Then, as if a dam broke, Harry told her everything. Sirius’ letter, Emera’s appearance, his life at the Manor, and finally, the prophecy.
Hermione’s eyes widened with each tale, gasping as his eyes dimmed at the mention of the prophecy. There he was, her best friend, Harry James Evans Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the boy who, by defeating the most feared Dark Lord in history, saved countless lives, the boy who saved her just months before. She stroked her stomach through the soft fabric of her shirt, feeling the scar that Antonin Dolohov had inflicted on her. Harry’s eyes held fear, the same fear that had been expressed when he saw her fall, the fear of taking a life, the fear of being a murderer. “Oh, Harry,” she murmured, her left hand falling on his shoulder.
“I don’t want to kill him, Hermione… But I don’t want to die either…” Harry confessed, his eyes filling with tears. “Gods, I know that sounds selfish but-”
“It’s okay to be selfish sometimes,” Hermione cut him off. Her eyes widened when he suddenly hugged her, tightly. His body was trembling and she felt wetness on her shoulder. “Oh, Harry…”
“You- gods, Hermione, I’m so sorry…” he pulled away slightly, smoothing her already neat hair down, as if to comfort her. But then Hermione realized that by doing it, Harry was comforting himself. “I wish I’d listened to you. Then I wouldn’t have put any of you in danger. Sirius wouldn’t have been stuck in Milan with the Zabini’s, Ron wouldn’t have been attacked by that- that brain thing, and you… You wouldn’t have…” he faltered at this point, his eyes going down her body to stare at her stomach. “Can I…”
Hermione said nothing, but tucked out the cotton shirt from her denims and placed his hands on the last button. She saw his eyes flicker, fear crossing them once again. Oh Harry, I’m so sorry for doubting you… I’ll never do it again, she swore to herself, instinctively needing to protect him. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously. He knelt before her, his face level to her midsection. He undid the buttons, making his way up slowly. He pushed the folds aside, revealing the scar immediately. He undid some more buttons, needing to see the effects of his decision. From the right side of her stomach, the thick line made it’s way up past where Harry dared to see.
He traced it hesitantly, making Hermione’s flesh tingle as goose bumps appeared around the injury. Oh…Gods, Harry, don’t do that! She thought to herself as the action caused her to tingle in places she shouldn’t around her best friend. She bit in a moan and concentrated on Harry’s guilt-filled eyes, the grief in him sobering her up instantly. Bad Hermione! Bad! “Hermione…” Harry choked her name out, tears spilling from him eyes, “How- how long did it take you to heal?” he asked her. His eyes begged for the truth, for her honesty, and she’ll be damned if she lied to him.
“Two and a half weeks. I spent a week in a coma; three of those days were magically induced because the Healers didn’t want me in pain while my body was healing. The other week was spent trying to get my midsection to feel anything and stop being numb …” she trailed off hesitantly.
“And?” Harry asked, his voice thick with guilt and regret. “What? Please tell me. Hermione, please… Don’t hide it from me.”
Hermione closed her eyes, not wanting to tell him something so private, yet unwilling to deny him what he asked. “The doctors-” she started to say, but her voice broke at the last word. She cleared her throat, feeling tears sting her eyes. “The muggle doctors told me that my right ovary was…affected. It won’t be producing eggs anymore,” she said, her words ending in a whisper. Harry sobbed, his head against her stomach.
“Hermione, I’m so sorry- So sorry…” Harry whispered, his words breaking her heart. Hermione tried to comfort him, understanding why he was so broken over her situation.
“Harry, it’s okay… I- I can still have kids,” Hermione said, kneeling as well. She placed both hands on his cheeks, gently forcing him to look at her. “Harry, it’s okay. It’s not your fault-”
“Yes it is!” Harry cried his hands wrapping around her wrists. “You, of all people know that! I dragged you out there… I thought I was saving Sirius. I thought, so foolishly, that a group of kids could take on full-grown Death Eaters and come out unscathed. I was reckless, Hermione…” he pulled a hand up to his lips and kissed it by the knuckles. Hermione sucked in a mouthful of air, aware that her body was heating up again. “That’s why I came here with Emera. To be able to think on my feet, to rely more on my mind than my magic…to be able to avoid putting you in harm’s way.” His eyes begged her to understand, begged her to forgive him. She did, and she has.
“Harry…” Hermione found herself crying. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Harry Potter. You are able to think on your feet. You found a way to get to the Ministry of Magic, didn’t you? You were able to rely on your memory, to get us to the Department of Mysteries… If that isn’t relying on your mind, then I don’t know what is!” she exclaimed, trying to comfort him. He just cried harder. “Harry, don’t be too hard on yourself. You kept us alive there, Harry. Long enough for Dumbledore and the Order to save us, to take us home. You saved us.” Her amber eyes held his green ones captive. Hermione smiled, lips parting to speak once more, but Harry stiffened suddenly. His eyes darted to the room and then he relaxed. Hermione turned her head and found Emera behind them.
“Lìa,” he murmured, his eyes red-rimmed and cheeks tear-strained.
Emera took in his appearance and asked him softly, “What happened?”
“We… talked,” Harry said, his eyes searching Hermione’s for permission to tell his soul-sister. Her eyes told him everything he needed to know. “About what happened in the Department of Mysteries.” Emera’s eyes flickered in understanding. She held her hand out to Harry and he took it. Hermione noticed something about them. They seemed too…intimate.
“You okay, caro?” Emera asked, holding a worried look. Harry squeezed her hand for a second, and Emera understood that he was fine. “Hermione?” she turned to the brown-haired girl. Emera felt a brief pang of irritation at the mortal. She did nothing wrong, they were bound to talk about this sooner, she thought to herself. She gave Hermione a half-smile. “Are you hungry?”
Hermione reciprocated the action. “Depends on what you’re serving.”