Chapter 12 - Mind Games I

Harry sighed, seeing Hermione annoyed. She didn't ignore him, and even talked to him, but there was just something different with her tone and mannerisms. He helplessly waited for days in hopes she'd forget about it.

"Come on, Hermione. You know I can't control this urge once it comes up." Harry tried to reason with her. But who was he lying to? Voldemort had nothing to do with it. His own sexual deviancy was the culprit. Now, he had no idea if this deviant Harry was his true self, or a victim of Voldemort's mental manipulations.

Hermione scoffed before trying to leave him in the corridor, "Whatever, Harry. I don't want to talk about that again. Just… ask Luna for help from now on. I can't help you anymore."

This is bad.,. Harry panicked a little. He truly cherished Hermione as someone close. No, I can't let this happen.

"I-I'll… I'll try my best to never involve you in this. But you have to promise me something." Harry asked.

Hermione looked left and right. It was past dinner time, and almost everyone had gone to their dorms. She feared Harry would ask for something inappropriate again, "W-What is it, Harry?"

"Promise me that once I deal with Voldemort, you'll go out on a date with me," Harry asked her out unofficially. After having seen the title of that book, this was the only way to save the friendship. "Promise me."

Hermione's brows furrowed. She stepped closer to Harry and placed a hand on his chest. Emotional but rational, she looked into his green eyes and nodded, "I promise, Harry. But you're not alone in this… Never feel you're alone."

Harry smiled, looked left and right, and left a quick peck on Hermione's lips. "Thank you."

Am I manipulating her? Is this what Voldemort does? Harry asked himself, feeling disgusted by himself somewhere deep inside. He liked Hermione, and she was ravishingly beautiful. But, he knew in his heart he didn't feel love for her yet. Yet I'm doing this to keep her happy and obedient.

"You." She hissed at his sudden kiss and stepped back, a blush visible on her face. "I'm going to the dorms."

Not waiting for him, Hermione ran away in utter embarrassment.

I hate myself. Silently standing there, Harry stared at her vanishing figure. Tired, frustrated, and a little hopeless, he sighed and took off his glasses to rub his eyes and clean the glasses. I can't let this go on for too long. This is wrong.

"Ah! Wonderful, m'boy. I was just looking for you."

Harry recognized that voice and looked back. Slughorn was one of the tasks he had this year. The man held secrets that could help him ruin Voldemort. So he smiled like a good student, "Professor? What can I do for you?"

"I know it's late, but I am about to finish preparing a potion that might interest you. It's a breakthrough for me, and I'd like you to inherit the recipe." Slughorn cheerfully said and led Harry toward his potions lab. "It's the opposite of Felix Felicis, a potion that brings nothing but bad luck."

Harry's brows rose, "Bad luck? What kind of bad luck?"

"The awful kind, m'boy. Imagine your opponent consumed it before the battle. That wizard might lose his wand, break his wand, misfire the spell, or worse—injure himself. Imagine an opponent in a debate drank it. That opponent might be scared of spiders, and right before he speaks, a spider lands on his face, sucking the confidence out of him. Just as Liquid Luck works to make things better, this one does the opposite."

That's an awfully precise use... Harry thought and wondered if it could help him in some way. What if Draco drank it? I can use Pansy for that.

"Why do you want me to learn it, Professor?" He asked.

"Because, unlike Liquid Luck, this potion can be used as many times as needed. It will come of use to you, m'boy. You have far too many battles ahead of you," said Slughorn with a little worry in his voice. "I heard about the attack on the Burrow. You caught Bellatix so bravely."

"Thank you, Professor."

"Need not be. It's wonderful news," Slughorn said, ushering him into the Potions lab. "Come in. I'm near the end of the potion brewing. I'll show you the most crucial part of making it. The rest can be followed from the notes."

Harry silently followed the man behind and diligently obeyed the instructions. At times, he tried to impress him using knowledge from the Book of the Half-Blood Prince and the knowledge he had gained from Voldemort.

"Wonderful. I've never seen such deep knowledge of potions at such a young age in anyone. You'll do great things in the coming years, I'm sure of it." Slughorn showered Harry with praises.

"Like my Mum?" Harry asked, getting to the task given by Dumbledore.

"Oh yes, and much more."

Harry nodded, seeing the fire under the cauldron quelled and the potion brewing over. "Can I use this on… 'Him'?"

"Who?"

"V-Vol… I mean, You-Know-Who?"

Slughorn's one eyebrow rose, his lips shivering as if he had stumbled upon a horror. "I don't know, Harry. If he drinks it, perhaps it will work. But it's a thing with those vile sorts. You never know they might be more cursed than this potion already."

Harry suddenly stepped closer to the old professor, "You would help me if one day I can make him drink it; Won't you, Professor? You'd help me bring him down, won't you?"

"What? Don't bring that to—"

"Professor, my mother died to save me from him. Sirius died before my eyes at the hands of Death Eaters. Half the wizards in the country think I'm the Chosen One. I'm just a boy… Just a school kid. But I know that if I'm truly the Chosen One, I'll need help from great people like you." Harry twisted his words, now feeling lucky Voldemort's sick manipulating mind had affected him too, "You'll help me, won't you, Professor?"

Old Slughorn stepped back in shock and looked at the cauldron. His hands shivering as he held onto a spatula, "I will, m'boy. Now, let's get back to the potion. Here are my notes, so be sure to read them all."

I can't force him to speak in a single day sadly. Harry decided to stop and read the notes. It'd be a waste to push too much and lose this potion too.

"These ingredients! It must have cost a fortune, Professor," Harry muttered. "Even for me, it looks expensive."

"Hah, that is true. But when you're a potions genius, making a fortune is just a few cauldrons away." Slughorn laughed, "Worry not. I am gifting you this batch. Use it wisely, Harry. I have great hopes for you. Ah, it's bedtime for you. You should return to your dorm."

Harry nodded and quickly helped the professor pour some potion into a flask before leaving with it. "Thank you, Professor. You're the best potions teacher we have had yet."

"When the competition is Snape, I can understand that sentiment." Slughorn jested and saw Harry off.

"Goodnight, Professor." Harry waved and watched the door close before heading towards the dorms. It was almost bedtime, so the hallways were all empty, and Filch was probably getting ready with his lantern to start making the rounds.

Just one more year before I graduate. School or Dumbledore, they won't be able to protect me after that. Voldemort would be able to come after me. Harry pondered over his future. I need to either deal with him before I graduate or ensure I have enough power to oppose him. Thankfully, with Bellatrix, I have enough funds to start.

"Argh!"

All of a sudden, just when he moved towards the staircase, Harry stumbled against the wall. His palms gripped his forehead as a piercing pain took over, starting from the curse mark. It felt hot, like it'd melt his brain from the inside.

He gritted his teeth. There were emotions leaking out, emotions of deep hatred and rage. This was Voldemort's wrath in reply to taking Bellatrix from him, Harry could feel it.

"No!" He groaned, "Get out of my head!"

Harry tried his best and used whatever he had learned about Occlumency. It was hard, as even keeping himself focused felt impossible.

Almost on his knees, he gritted his teeth to not scream in pain.

Get out of my head!

He heard laughs; the hard growls of something demonic. It was definitely Voldemort showing his rage.

Leave me alone!

Groaning, sitting on the stairs, he waited for the pain to subside. He was able to bring it down, but it didn't completely go away. Like an ever-present pulsating throb, it took root in the center of his head. Somewhere he couldn't even press, nor did the Occlumency help.

How does he do it? He asked himself; If he can, why can't I enter his mind?

Struggling on his own, he eventually got back to his feet, deciding to just go to sleep and hope the headache would vanish.

"Harry?!"

"Hm?" Harry stopped and looked behind himself right when he had started walking down the stairs. "Ginny? What're you doing here?"

"I came looking for you. You weren't at the Common Room or the dorm," she said, noticing Harry's ruffled hair and sweaty face, his tie slackened and hanging loosely. "Are you alright?"

Ginny approached Harry and raised herself a little on her toes before putting her palm on his forehead. "You have a fever," she said.

"Don't!" Harry stepped back, but there was a wall behind him. On the right were stairs leading up, and on the left were stairs leading down, them being in the middle. "Don't come so cl—"

No, no, no! Voldemort is still there. Harry panicked, feeling an insane sexual urge rising within. Just like the first time when he went too far with Cho. It's Ginny… What happened last time was a mistake.

"What do you mean, Harry?" Ginny still stepped closer to Harry, putting her palm on his chest covered by nothing but a shirt. "You don't look—Ah!"

"Sorry about this, Ginny." Harry apologized as he felt his arms move with a mind of their own. He grabbed hold of Ginny by her smooth, thin waist. He pinned her against the wall by turning them both around, then shoved a knee between her white stockings-clad legs, raising her black skirt a little.

Only wearing a shirt, Harry could notice the faint, small mounds of the red haired woman before him. Her freckles on her face were blushing. Her brown eyes were dreamily staring at him as if daring him to do it.

"What do you mean, Harry?"

Harry breathed deeply, the struggle clear on his face. Both his hands gripped harder on the sides of her waist. Her warmth felt so hot, and her thin lips appeared intoxicating. His pants had already revealed a raised hill. He couldn't take it anymore. The voice in his head constantly told him to go ahead and do it.

Dumb girl, you have no idea… No! I can't do this to Ginny. Harry struggled just like the first time.

Before he knew it, his face lowered, and his lips embraced hers. They exchanged warmth, the heat melting in each other's mouths. Ginny willingly parted her softness open, and Harry plunged into the wetness with his tongue. Her breath was radiant and scentful, her taste like sweet cherries. Both their eyes closed, and they forgot themselves at that moment.

"Umh… H-Harry… Not he—"

Harry didn't give her a chance to speak and dug viciously into her mouth. She reciprocated with a voracious invitation, twisting thoroughly. Their smooth flesh circled, danced, and curled, sweeping and swirling inside each other's mouths. Their breaths grew heavy, and Harry's hands started moving.

No, no! I need to end this before we get caught.

Despite the best of his attempts, he felt his left hand rubbing up from her waist and reaching onto her soft, small mounds. The curves were gentler, and her tender flesh wasn't a handful, but he still felt the swollen bud trying to probe out of her thin bra inside.

Come on! Push me away, Ginny!

His other hand slid down instead, gently on the side of her thighs. Soft and shapely, he massaged her before reaching between them. With his knee already between her parted legs, he easily lifted the front of her skirt and eased his hand into her underwear's waistband.

Fuck! I can't stop anymore… I don't even want to.

His fingers brushed past a thin bush with a faint touch, and Harry's two digits curved into her, reaching between her heated legs. The moistness could be felt as his fingertips landed on the tight slit of her womanhood. At first, he simply skimmed over it, gathering the little wetness and smudging it all over between her legs.

"Ah! Oooh… We shouldn't… be-eh here…" Ginny merely talked of protest but never pushed him away, much to Harry's annoyance.

Their lips never left each other, making a mess of each other's faces. But just then, Harry's fingers went for her feminine entrance. With his index finger on the left of the slit and ring finger on the right, his middle finger teased an entry.

Tight like Luna, Harry realized she still hadn't invited a boy between her legs yet. It filled him with further dread, not wanting this to be where he takes her virginity. So, to the best of his ability, he tried to keep his fingers only at the entrance, never going in and only nuzzling her clitoris and the utterly drenched gates. So soft and smooth, he wanted to go down on his knee and see it for herself, taste her, and claim her.

"Oh!" Ginny only left his mouth to moan. Her legs danced around his hand, tightly holding him in place. Her hands hugged around his neck, inviting him to go deeper.

She's insane. Harry realized Ginny didn't care if he took her right there and then. He felt even more tempted when Ginny started rubbing his steel-like erection over his pants. Filch must be on a round already.

"Harry, where are you, mate?"

Ron?!

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