Chapter 14

Lavender's voice rang out, sharp and desperate, cutting through the quiet as Harry made his way across the courtyard. "Harry, what the fuck is going on with you? Why are you ignoring me?" Her tone was laced with frustration, her body stiff as she stomped up behind him, her steps heavy against the stone path.

Harry didn't bother turning around, didn't even flinch at her outburst. He let out a slow exhale, arms crossed, eyes cast somewhere far beyond her. "Do you even hear yourself, Lavender?" His voice dripped with sarcasm, barely masking the disdain simmering beneath.

She huffed, stepping in front of him, blocking his path, her hands balled into fists. "Yes, I hear myself. We've been together, joined at the fucking hip since the start of Hogwarts. Why are you pushing me away now?" Her voice cracked at the end, a mix of anger and confusion.

Harry's brow shot up, incredulous. "Joined at the hip?" He let out a cold laugh, shaking his head. "The only reason you were hanging around me is because I let you use my hand whenever you fucking wanted." He leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. "That's it."

Lavender blinked, her face twisting in shock, clearly not expecting him to be so blunt, so callous. "No… no, I care about you, Harry," she stammered, reaching out to touch his arm, her fingers shaking.

He brushed her hand away like it was nothing, his eyes burning with frustration. "Care about me?" He laughed again, this time with a sharper edge. "Alright, Lavender, if you care so fucking much, what's my favorite food?"

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. She stared at him, the realization hitting her like a slap to the face. She had no idea.

"Exactly." He took a step closer, towering over her, his voice low and biting. "The only thing you know about me is how my hand feels when it's between your legs. That's it. You don't know a damn thing about me." He sneered, eyes narrowing. "And soon, you won't even remember that."

Lavender's face flushed deep red, a mixture of shame and hurt flooding her expression. "But… I—"

Harry cut her off without a second thought, brushing past her like she wasn't even there. "You'll forget soon enough." His voice was cold, final.

She tried to follow him, her footsteps hurried, but he didn't care. He slipped through a hidden passage behind an old tapestry, shutting the door behind him, the stone clicking into place. He was done with her. Done with the needy hands, the constant desire dripping off everyone like sweat. It was suffocating.

As he wandered through the dimly lit corridor, the anger that had burned in his chest began to cool, replaced by a creeping sense of weariness. He wasn't even sure where he was going. His mind was a mess of tangled thoughts, all jumbled up with memories of his past life, this new fucked-up world, and the endless barrage of witches trying to get their hands on him like he was some kind of prize.

When he finally emerged from the passageway, he barely had a moment to breathe before he saw her standing there.

Pansy Parkinson.

She was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a permanent scowl etched onto her face. "Move," she snapped, her voice sharp and venomous, like she was spitting acid.

Harry rolled his eyes, not in the mood for this shit. "Fuck off, Pansy," he muttered, stepping aside to let her pass.

But before he could take another step, something heavy slammed into the back of his head, and everything went black.

When he came to, the first thing Harry noticed was the throbbing in his skull. His vision was blurry, his body sluggish, but it didn't take long for him to realize something was very wrong. His hands were bound tightly behind him, the rough ropes biting into his wrists. His legs were tied to a chair, and when he shifted slightly, he felt the cold air brush against his exposed skin. He was naked from the waist down, his cock half-hard, and there, between his legs, was Pansy.

Her lips wrapped around his shaft, wet and eager, her tongue flicking along his length with practiced ease. His stomach turned, a mixture of disgust and fury boiling inside him.

She noticed he was awake, and her mouth slipped off him with a wet pop. She smirked up at him, wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. "I was going to use the potion to defile you, but looks like you're already nice and hard." She giggled, her eyes glinting with twisted amusement.

Harry's eyes darted to the corner of the room, where a cauldron sat, filled with some sickly grey liquid that bubbled ominously. His mind raced, the situation crashing down on him all at once. Pansy had been planning to drug him, to strip away his magic and take what she wanted. But she got impatient, and now here they were.

Bile rose in his throat, but he forced it down, closing his eyes and focusing inward. He could feel his magic pulsing, strong and steady. Slowly, carefully, he began loosening the binds, using his magic to unravel the ropes around his wrists. He had to be smart, quick. If Pansy realized what he was doing, she'd bite down, and that was a risk he wasn't willing to take.

She was too busy with her mouth, sucking and licking, lost in her own twisted pleasure. His hands were free. In one swift motion, Harry's fingers wrapped around her hair, yanking her head up hard. Pansy gasped, her eyes wide with shock, but before she could scream, he slammed his knee into her face with a sickening crack.

She crumpled to the floor, blood trickling from her nose, knocked out cold.

Harry stood over her for a moment, breathing heavily, his heart pounding in his chest. He wiped the sweat from his brow, looking down at her crumpled form. Then, without hesitation, he dragged her back to the chair and tied her up, tighter this time, making sure she wouldn't be able to wiggle her way free.

When Pansy finally came to, she was groggy, her face swollen from where he'd hit her. She blinked, her mind slowly catching up to what had happened. Panic set in as she realized her legs were spread wide, her wrists bound to the chair.

Harry stood over her, his face hard, eyes cold. "What the fuck were you thinking, Parkinson?" His voice was a low growl, dripping with contempt.

Pansy whimpered, squirming against her restraints. "The room… no one comes here," she stammered, her voice shaky, terrified. "I thought I could… I thought I could get away with it."

Harry's jaw clenched. "Get away with drugging me? Taking away my magic? And then what, huh? Use me like a fucking toy?"

Tears welled in Pansy's eyes, her breath coming in shallow, panicked gasps. "Please… don't leave me here. I'll do anything. Anything you want."

Harry's lip curled into a sneer, the anger inside him flaring hot again. "Anything I want, huh?" He walked around her slowly, his eyes narrowing as he considered her words. He could make her his. Bend her to his will. It wouldn't take much—she was already willing to do anything to avoid punishment.

But that wasn't enough. No, she deserved worse. She needed to hurt.

"You want to help with my problem?" His voice was a cold sneer as he undid his belt, letting it fall to the ground. Pansy's eyes lit up, thinking she was about to get what she wanted. But Harry wasn't about to give her the satisfaction.

"I'm going to fuck you," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "but not the way you want." He grabbed her roughly, spinning the chair around so her ass was raised in the air, fully exposed. Her eyes went wide, her body tensing as she realized what he meant.

"No… Harry, please… not like that," she begged, her voice shaking, full of desperation.

He slapped her hard across the face, her head snapping to the side. "Shut the fuck up. You were ready to take everything from me. Now, you're gonna get what you deserve."

Without another word, he spread her ass cheeks wide, spitting onto her tight hole, his cock hard and throbbing. She whimpered, her body trembling, but he didn't care. He lined himself up and drove in, hard and fast, not giving her a second to adjust.

Pansy screamed, her body jerking against the restraints, the pain overwhelming her. He didn't let up, didn't give her a moment of mercy. He slammed into her, his grip tight on her hips, fucking her raw, her tight hole clenching around him in agony.

"You're a fucking bitch," Harry snarled, his voice thick with rage, biting down hard on her neck as he thrust deeper, faster. Pansy's cries filled the room, her body shaking with each brutal movement. He didn't care if she was in pain, didn't care if she wanted him to stop. This was what she deserved.

Somewhere in the midst of it all, her screams turned into low, broken moans, her body betraying her. She hated herself for it, but she started to feel it—pleasure mixing with the pain, driving her to the edge.

Harry felt her walls clenching tighter around him, and with one final thrust, he came deep inside her, filling her up, his breathing ragged. He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. "If you want more," he whispered darkly, "you'll come here every time I call. No prep. No telling anyone."

Pansy nodded weakly, her body spent, tears still wet on her cheeks. Harry straightened up, pulling his pants back on without another word. He left her there, tied up and broken, disappearing into the shadows of the passageway.

As he walked back to his dorm, his mind kept circling around one thought—the potion. There had to be a way to stop it, to destroy it. Too many people had easy access to it, and that made him vulnerable. He needed a plan.

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