Cooldown
You can find more of this on by SubscribeStar (dot adult slash KajaWilder), it’s posted past FwB2 Ch. 30 there. You can find the same on my new Patreon (via Discord per their ToS), under /WildErotica. The DISCORD is at https://discord.gg/N9yDASt6Cw . If you prefer direct links, go to my Discord and follow the ‘links in general’ section to find the ones you want. All of my fics are well ahead of what I post here, often 10-30 chapters ahead.
You can also read my original fiction on Kindle, or Kindle Unlimited for free . Here’s my author page.
Enjoy!
NOTE: I have gone back and fixed SEVERAL inconsistencies in previous chapters (mostly in FwB1, some in FwB2) regarding the location of Pansy, Luna, etc, during the Yr 6 climax, whether or not Amelia Bones is alive / dead at a given point (definitely dead now), and so on, over the last few months. Those have NOT been put up on FFnet yet, they're waiting for a beta editor to go over the whole of FwB1 first. So if you see those- PLEASE DO POINT THEM OUT STILL, just in case I missed something.
And regarding Mrs. Granger being pregnant / not pregnant... I resolved that in a different way.
Chap. 19: Cooldown
It took Ron about fifteen minutes to remember exactly how it had felt when he’d shifted back after the first time he’d activated his Hellhide, but once the progress had begun, it went fairly quickly. Hermione, exhausted as she was from the sheer effort required to conjure and control, then eventually end, the colossal flames she had unleashed could only exhibit mild curiosity as she watched it happen. Tired too but more emotionally than physically, Harry was able to observe a bit more closely.
As if the shell had been extruded from Ron’s pores, it first liquefied and bubbled, then began to seep in rivulets and tiny little streams into pockets. Next, it began to vanish, as it it were moving through his skin itself and back into him in a strange reversal of how it had appeared. “Wicked,” Ron murmured, staring at his hands and lower arms, which had begun the process.
His fingertips were already mostly free of the armored shell. His hands were still covered in little rivers, but the plates were gone. His lower arms were half-broken down, and seemed to crumble as Harry watched them further dissolve into the rivulets. Around his shoulders and upper chest, where the plates were heaviest, there were deep cracks starting to show as the armor began the process of dissolution, while Ron’s feet were at about the level of his forearms.
Less than a minute after it had begun, though, Ron’s heavy antlers disappeared into strange red-violet particles vaguely reminiscent of Lilith’s pink petals that swirled like motes of fire around his head for a moment and then disappeared, with the rest of his armor, which was gone a moment later.
“Alright, we’ll Side-Along you four,” one of the Order members who’d accompanied them to the yard, but Lilith shook her head, taking up Harry’s hand, “You can take Ron and Hermione if they want, but I’ll take Master. No offense, you’re pretty tired, and in any case, my method’s safer. At least for him.”
Before the older witch, who did look exhausted, could protest, Harry was once more staring into the gray, near-formless twisted version of reality between his world and Lilith’s border-plane. Once again, there was a sense of moving without moving, his lungs felt cold and stretched but also filled with emotions, which was strange, as emotion was not liquid, but it didn’t make it hard to breathe, and wasn’t that a strange sensation to realize as- pop.
Harry stumbled slightly, more weary than he had expected to be, as his feet touched the lush, new grass of The Crockery’s front lawn. “Alright, Master?”
Harry nodded, “Y- Yeah. It’s… that was just weird. I feel like I… I don’t know, noticed more, when I went through this time. Just caught me by surprise.”
“Mm,” the Succubus murmured. Maintaining her true shape, she helped support him with a hand under his elbow. “I’ve heard that can happen. You’re acclimating more, and probably are tired enough that some of your psychic filters are weakened. I don’t see all that much different from what I see here when I go through. I don’t exactly have human eyes, either.”
“I wonder if you could show me what you see sometime,” Harry replied with a nod, “Just for curiosity. Or if I could show you…”
“That would be interesting,” Hermione called from a dozen feet away as the tired-looking older witch let go of her and Ron’s arms, gave Harry a nod, and then twisted in the air again before vanishing. “I’ve never thought about it, but you might interpret or see very differently than we do, and unless we could… share memory, or vision, we’d never know, really. I imagine Polyjuice Potion wouldn’t exactly work on you.”
“Not given my experience with even a partly-Succubus-modified body,” Harry snorted, “Remember when Iris first started showing up, and I couldn’t change back?”
Ron laughed, “Yeah, good times. Alright, I’m up for a spot of lunch- Ow! What was that for, Hermione?”
“Food, always thinking about food,” she snorted, though without any real heat. “But fine, if that’s how you want to relax, go ahead, Ron. I’m going to find a book and a fire.”
“And I’m going to help get the prisoners settled,” Harry told them quietly, reminding his best friends that there was, in fact, still work to do.
Both stopped mid-step.
“R- Right.”
Thankfully, there wasn’t as much work as Harry had first expected. The Grangers and Romilda were on the second floor in the larger bedrooms, which left the half-furnished, smaller bedrooms on the ground floor free to fill up for the moment. Winky and Dobby were both delighted with the extra work, and set about popping back and forth to Diagon Alley for furniture, clothing, and of course more food and whatever other supplies the half-dazed, often injured women could think of.
Harry told the elves early on, “Whatever they need- within reason of course, they don’t need a dragon or hippogriff, no matter what they might say- they can have. But they have to stay safe, and here, until the Aurors and the Order are done with them, at least. That will take Healers, and probably they’ll all need to be questioned. I think Alastor Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt will be here soon to start that process.”
“Yes, Harry Potter, Sir,” Winky squeaked, her bulbous eyes wide and glistening with happiness at the extra task, “And… and if they be asking for, for potions, Sir? For… well, a few are with child, Sir. Winky be sensing it.”
Harry sighed, “… If you can get them, get them… but I’d ask them to wait on taking any potions like… like that, until they’ve at least talked to a Healer about it. Make sure it’s what they want.”
Winky nodded rapidly, her long ears flopping, “Winky understands, Sir. Winky will do it. Is there anything else, Sir?”
“No, just… thank you, to both you and Dobby. This is a lot of work to dump on you unexpectedly, and I appreciate it.”
“Winky likes to work,” the elf reminded him, then was gone with a quiet pop, on one of the no-doubt innumerable errands she’d taken on herself in the last two hours since the women had started to arrive.
There’d been people going in and out, his girls, Order members, and even some of the less shell-shocked former prisoners, helping him organize who would be sharing rooms with whom, for example. There was only one case of cell-mates who had elected to share a room, which kind of surprised him, he figured most would want the comfort. Instead, it seemed being too close to the women who were tormented right next to them was something they were almost universally worried about. But for now, things were quiet, and seemed to be winding down.
A few minutes later, Hermione stumbled into the room Lilith and Fleur had designated as the future ‘classroom’ on the ground floor and collapsed into the seat next to him. “This is already so much work. I hope you know what you got us into, Harry.”
“I do,” he replied quietly, and reached out to take one of her hands in his. “But who else? Mrs. Weasley? She’d love to help, but she’s already taken in four orphans permanently. She can’t house or feed another twenty people, even with help. We can’t just trust any old family to take them in, not all at once, and maybe not even separately. The Crockery is at least secure.”
“I know,” Hermione sighed before leaning her head against his shoulder. “I just… I feel so bad for them. And what if I’d slipped, lost control? It was so stupid, so reckless. I could’ve killed them all. And our people, too.”
“Nah,” Harry shrugged, forcing confidence into his voice as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You did great, Hermione. Without that, the dragon would’ve gone on a rampage, too. It at least worried enough about the Fiendfyre to not go through that side of the house, and it blocked a lot of fire, took down a few Death Eaters… I think it was a good call, honestly.”
“Mm,” she murmured noncommittally.
Harry leaned over to kiss the top of her bushy head and squeezed a little tighter. “How’re you holding up?”
“Badly,” she admitted quietly, “It’s… I feel bad for them. Sympathetic. But I can’t… I’m having a hard time empathizing. I’ve… it’s a common enough fear, for women, being… forced, like that. People like Lavender and maybe Pansy aside, most of us… dread that ever happening. But for these women, it’s the reality. Then it happened again and again, and for most of them, we don’t even know for how long, or how many times, it’s happened. I don’t… I don’t think my heart’s big enough to comprehend what one of them is feeling, much less all of them.”
“I don’t know if I believe that,” Harry told her softly, “Because you have the biggest, kindest heart of anyone I know, and that’s saying something. But I get it, Hermione… it hurts. Knowing they’ve been through so much, and not being able to just… take it away. But that pain…” Harry sighed, taking a few moments to put his thoughts in order. “Without the abuse the Dursleys heaped on me, without Malfoy tormenting me at school, without losing my parents so young… I wouldn’t be who I am. I would literally not be me. What happened to them is horrible, yes. But… maybe, just maybe, it’ll make them stronger. And whoever they are in the future, it’ll have this as part of the reason why. Not all of it, but a part.”
Hermione sniffed, and burrowed into his side a bit more firmly. “Wh- When did you get so wise?”
Harry chuckled, then used his other arm to pull her closer, too. “If I’m wise, it’s because I have very smart, wise people around me. I think you already knew all that, but sometimes it’s helpful to hear someone else put into words what you already know.”
“Wise.”
“If you say so,” he laughed again, “Come on. Let’s go get dinner… and I think I’m turning in early tonight.”
“Me, too.”
He expected a bit of chaos when he reached the large dining room downstairs, but what Harry found was anything but. Somehow, Fleur, Winky, and Dobby had organized a serving-line dishing up plate after plate, bowl after bowl, of delicious-smelling stew and rolls, with peas and carrots on the side. Each woman were also handed two small cups of some sort of potion along with their drinks by Madame Pomfrey of all people,
“Nourishment and Wiggenweld potions,” Hermione murmured, following his gaze. “to help get their health back up, and a general-use healing potion. We should start making a stock of that, actually, for- well, us, yes, but also the children when they get here. It’s handy to have on-hand.”
“Is that what that green goop is called?” Harry asked, frowning as he joined the queue. Ron was already eating, to the shock no one, but so were a half-dozen women he barely recognized, “Madame Pomfrey loved to shovel it down my throat whenever I was at the Hospital Wing.”
“That’s the one,” Hermione giggled quietly, “It’s not terribly hard to brew… I bet Fleur would help. Maybe Pansy, too.”
The dark-haired witch turned from a few places ahead in the line, “Oh? Wiggenweld? Sure, Hermione, I can help brew some. That’s a good idea. Is Fleur any good at Potions? Daphne and Tracey could probably help too. It isn’t terribly difficult.”
“That’s a nice idea,” Hermione told her, “I didn’t want to impose…”
“Nonsense,” Pansy snorted, then glanced at Harry before looking back to Hermione, “We all need to help, and it’ll be good practice if I ever do decide to become a Healer. I… Can I talk to you privately for a few minutes, Hermione? No offense, Harry.”
“None taken. Go on,” he smiled, and was mostly left alone while the line moved smoothly forward. He was impressed by the efficiency Fleur and the House-Elves had been able to get things moving with, and so quickly. As well, many of the women gave him, and Ron, somewhat judgmental, even accusing or anxious looks. Others stared at him in particular with a strange sort of reverence that Harry honestly found unnerving, for it strongly resembled the hero-worship that he’d experienced his first few years after returning to the wizarding world.
At least, he mused, this time, I’ve actually done something to deserve it. The looks are still creepy, though.
When Hermione rejoined him, Pansy did too, sacrificing her place in line to sit and eat quietly with them. To add to his surprise, an all-too-familiar face rose from half-way down the long table to stand next to Harry. “Erm, ex- excuse me. Can… Can I sit here? I d- don’t want to be a bother, but…”
Harry nodded at once, “Of course, Ms. Teasdale. You can sit wherever you’d like.”
“Thank you,” the woman replied softly, nearly-whispering, as she sent Hermione and Pansy a curious look, before stepping around Harry to choose the seat next to the dark-haired young woman. “I… I’m sorry if this is a strange question, but I d- didn’t dare ask anyone else,” she whispered, nearly hissing, “but what… what are those things? The- the long-eared ones. Are those ears?”
Harry blinked, following the spoon Kennedy had gestured with. “Oh. That’s Dobby there, on the right, and Winky on the left. They’re House-Elves.”
“O- Oh. E- Elves. Elves are… real.”
The young woman seemed like she suddenly wanted to faint, but Pansy was there before Harry, her arm going around the other woman’s. Kennedy flinched, but didn’t pull away, as her eyes came back into slightly-panicked focus. Pansy hesitated, “Sh- Would you prefer not to be touched?”
“It’s… okay,” Kennedy whispered, quieter than before, and seemed to force herself to relax. “I… I know you aren’t… them. None of you are. It’s…”
“Trauma,” Hermione finished when she trailed off.
Kennedy nodded, “Yeah. I… thank you, though. Those… sticks. What are they? How do they work?”
Hermione’s head cocked to the side, “You mean our wands?” and reached for her hip,
Harry, though, reached out a hand to stop her. “No, wait. Slowly, Hermione, and don’t point it at anyone.”
“What? Oh. Y- Yes, good thinking, Harry,” the bookworm caught on quickly, at least, and pulled out her familiar vinewood wand. “This is a wand, a magic wand. Mine is vinewood with a core made of dragon heart-string. Harry’s is holly and phoenix feather. Each wand is suited best to one witch or wizard- magical people, like us. How it works is… a complicated answer. But not just anyone can pick up a wand and use it. Most people are not magical, what witches and wizards, at least in the United Kingdom, call ‘Muggles’. I… I suspect you’re a Muggle, then? No idea magic was real until…?”
“None,” Kennedy answered, shaking her head in disbelief, her wide eyes locked on the slender piece of wood. “Th- The men, they… did stuff to us with those... things. Made us do things, with… with those.”
“I figured as much, once Harry asked that I not to point it at anyone,” Hermione said softly, “I’ll put it away. I’m afraid to you it would be just a stick, but in our hands it can be a powerful tool… or a weapon. I’m sorry you had them turned on you in that way. There are… well, witches and wizards are people. There are good, bad, and in-between. I like to think we’re some of the good guys.”
Pansy sniffled, then chuckled, “I never thought I’d be sitting down to dinner next to a real Muggle. The life you’ve brought me into, Potter… Harry. I mean, I’d never even talked to one until I met your parents, Hermione.” Then she turned to Kennedy and offered a hand to shake, “I’m Pansy Parkinson, one of Harry’s girls.”
Kennedy took the hand nervously, looking back and forth between the three of them, “You- you don’t look that much older than them…”
Hermione giggled, “No, she means his girlfriends, only Pansy doesn’t like using that term for herself. Bit of a story there, honestly, but… Harry’s special. He has a large, and growing, group of women around him. We all love him, and he loves us. And we’re… making it work. Fleur is one, myself of course, Pansy, and you’ll probably meet most or all of the rest in the next few days. Oh, and Romilda down there, but she’s… well, I’m not sure, to be honest.”
“Romilda’s… an intimate friend, but just that,” Harry filled in when Hermione looked his way, “I think she’s getting closer with Ron, though.”
“Good,” Hermione nodded, looking down the long table, “She’ll be good for him, and he for her, I think. Anyway, Ms. Teasdale-”
“Kennedy,” she interrupted, “You can just call me Kennedy. Don’t think I’m much older than you, anyway.”
“How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Kennedy looked across once more at Hermione, “I’m twenty-one. I think… I don’t really know how- how long they had me.”
“I…” Harry hesitated, then told her, “I think they had you for about two weeks. I… I saw more memories in most of the other women I… checked.”
Kennedy took in a deep, shuddering breath, then let it out slowly. “I… Okay. Two weeks. I… Okay. I’m twenty-one, then. My birthday isn’t until October, so… so I… yeah.”
“That’d make you about Fleur’s age,” Hermione pointed over at the beautiful blonde, “she’s twenty or twenty-one I believe. We’re all sixteen or seventeen, Harry’s the youngest of the three of us I think. His birthday’s at the end of July, but both Pansy and I are seventeen, since our birthdays were in September.”
“Nineteenth,” the Slytherin added, “My birthday’s the nineteenth of September.”
“No way,” Hermione giggled, “That’s mine, too.”
“R- Really?”
“Hah,” Pansy snickered, “All those years, and we have so much more in common than I’d ever have admitted.”
“Well, we’ll just have to do joint celebrations from now on,” Harry said with a tired grin, “Unless of course you want to split things up. No harm in that, either.” Then, to clarify for Kennedy, who looked confused, “When we were at school, at least until this last year, Hermione and Pansy were at each other tooth and nail. They… reconciled. Over me, I suppose. And now they’re friends.”
“Good friends,” Hermione added with a smile, “I… well, I’m not ashamed to admit that I love Pansy like a sister, and a friend, and sometimes a bit more. And she’s, er good in the sack.”
“Good in the sack,” Harry chuckled, “Most eloquent phrase you could think of, was it?”
“Sh- Shut up, Harry,” Hermione replied, blushing, “She knows what I mean!”
Kennedy giggled quietly, smiling faintly as the byplay. It soothed Harry’s own worries a bit to see the genuine display of emotion on her face. Kennedy, like many of the women they’d rescued, were mostly expressionless, or wooden, even steely-eyed as they looked about, carefully watching for any sign of betrayal or threat.
Thankfully, Kennedy seemed to relax further as the conversation and dinner continued. After some time, Pansy and Hermione begged off, and took Fleur, who had just finished her own meal, with them. Which left Harry, the elves, and the Grangers, who looked frazzled and anxious as well at their own late meal, to help the girls settled with whatever they needed for the night. Each one, Harry bade a good night’s sleep, and reminded them that if they wanted or needed it, there was a dose of Dreamless Sleep Potion at their bedsides, and that breakfast could be served whenever they wanted it if they just asked for Winky.
Eventually, after eleven, he staggered into his bedroom, exhausted, with no desire except to collapse onto his bed. He didn’t even notice the collection of young women waiting for him, a surprise reward for his hard work left delayed until the next morning.