Kyle Virex
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A Godfather's Gambit #5
🕑 Added 2025-07-14 14:30:01 +0000 UTCDisclaimer: All characters involved in explicit situations are adults. No underage characters have been involved or depicted in such situations.
Hermione’s voice trembled as she chanted the ancient words, each syllable vibrating through the ritual chamber. The runes on the stone altar pulsed brighter, their golden light bathing the room in a warm glow. Her hands gripped the parchment, her fingers white-knuckled as she fought to keep her focus on the incantations. The magic surged, and it felt like a tingling current that raced up her spine, and despite all her attempts to remain focused, her eyes betrayed her, flicking to the altar where Celeste and Harry were entwined in a mess of naked limbs and sweaty skin.
Celeste straddled Harry, her naked body pressed flush against his. Her crimson hair spilled over her shoulders, brushing his chest as she leaned down, her lips capturing his in a deep, hungry kiss. Harry’s hands rested on her hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he responded, his mouth moving against hers with equal fervor. Celeste’s tongue darted out, teasing his lower lip, and Harry groaned, the sound low and raw, echoing in the chamber.
Hermione’s cheeks burned, her breath catching as she forced her gaze back to the parchment.
Focus, Hermione. This is for Harry. For the Horcrux.
But the sounds—God, the sounds—made it impossible to stay detached. Celeste’s soft moans mingled with Harry’s ragged breathing, and the wet smack of their kisses filled the air. Hermione’s chanting faltered for a split second, her voice catching as Celeste’s hands slid down Harry’s chest, her nails grazing his skin, leaving faint red trails. Harry arched beneath her, his head tilting back, exposing the column of his throat. Celeste seized the opportunity, her lips latching onto his neck, sucking hard enough to leave a fresh mark beside the ones from earlier. Harry’s hands tightened on her hips, pulling her closer, and Hermione’s stomach twisted, a strange heat pooling low in her belly.
Stop it, she scolded herself, shaking her head. She forced her eyes to the runes, watching them pulse in time with her chants. The magic flowed stronger now, a steady hum that vibrated through her bones. She could feel it, the raw power of the ritual, drawing from Harry and Celeste’s connection, amplifying it. Her voice grew steadier, the incantations rolling off her tongue, but her peripheral vision betrayed her again.
Celeste’s hips rolled against Harry’s, slow and hungry, her body moving with such a grace that it was impossible to ignore. Hermione’s breath hitched when she realized Harry’s boxers were gone now—when had that happened?—and his arousal was evident, his cock hard and straining against Celeste’s thigh. Try as she might, she could not take her eyes off it, and her throat went dry.
Celeste broke the kiss, her lips glistening as she pulled back, her purple eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, Master,” she purred, her voice a sultry caress. “You’re so ready for me.”
Her fingers trailed down his abdomen, teasing the skin below his navel, before wrapping around his erection. Harry gasped, his hips bucking involuntarily, and Hermione’s chanting stuttered again, her face flaming. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the sight, but the image was seared into her mind—Celeste’s slender fingers stroking Harry, her touch slow and sensual, coaxing another low groan from him.
“Keep chanting, Miss Granger,” Celeste called, her tone teasing but firm. “We need your magic to make this work. Don’t get distracted now.” Her words were followed up by a slow, measured stroke, and Harry’s head fell back against the velvet cushion, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure.
Hermione’s jaw clenched, her voice forcing its way through gritted teeth. “I’m trying,” she snapped, her eyes snapping open to focus on the parchment. The runes glowed brighter, their light almost blinding now, and she could feel the magic surging, responding to the energy on the altar. She chanted louder, her voice rising to drown out the sounds of Celeste’s soft laughter and Harry’s labored breathing. But her body betrayed her, a flush creeping up her neck, her thighs pressing together as a pulse of heat throbbed between them.
No. No, this is not happening. She shook her head, forcing her focus back to the incantations.
Celeste shifted, her knees on either side of Harry’s hips as she positioned herself above him. Her hands braced on his chest, her nails digging into his skin as she lowered herself, guiding his cock to her entrance. Harry’s hands slid up her thighs, gripping her tightly as she sank down, slowly taking him inside her inch after inch.
Both of them moaned, the sound raw and unfiltered, and Hermione’s chanting faltered again, her voice breaking as her eyes flicked to the altar. Celeste’s head tilted back, her crimson hair cascading down her back, and her breasts bouncing slightly as she began to move, her hips rolling in a slow, sensual rhythm.
Harry’s hands roamed her body, one sliding up to cup her breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple. Celeste gasped, her movements quickening, and Hermione’s breath hitched, her fingers trembling on the parchment. The magic in the room was electric now, a palpable force that pressed against her skin, making her heart race. She could feel it, the raw, primal energy of their connection, feeding the runes, making them pulse with blinding intensity. Her chanting resumed, but her voice was shakier now, her focus breaking as she watched Celeste ride Harry, her body moving with a grace that was almost hypnotic.
Focus, damn it, Hermione thought, her eyes snapping back to the parchment. But the heat in her belly was undeniable, a slow burn that spread through her limbs, making her skin tingle. She shifted her weight, her thighs pressing together again, and she bit her lip, trying to suppress the sensation. The incantations flowed from her lips, but her mind was elsewhere, caught on the sight of Harry’s hands gripping Celeste’s hips, his fingers digging into her flesh as he thrust up to meet her movements. Celeste’s moans grew louder, her body arching as she leaned down to kiss him again, her tongue plunging into his mouth with a hunger that made Hermione’s pulse race.
The runes pulsed brighter, their light casting flickering shadows on the walls. Hermione could feel the magic building, a crescendo that mirrored the intensity on the altar. Her voice grew stronger, the incantations flowing faster, but her eyes kept drifting to Harry and Celeste. Their bodies moved together in perfect sync, their skin slick with sweat, and their breaths coming in sharp gasps. Celeste’s hands slid up Harry’s chest, her nails raking over his shoulders, leaving faint red marks.
Harry groaned, “Hermione, please… keep going,” his voice rough with desperation, and Hermione’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of her name on his lips, especially how it sounded in a situation like this.
She nodded shakily, her voice steadying as she chanted, but her body was betraying her. The heat between her thighs was unbearable now, a throbbing ache that made her shift uncomfortably. She tried to focus on the runes, on the magic, but her eyes kept flicking to the altar. Celeste’s movements were faster now, her hips grinding against Harry’s, her moans growing louder, more urgent. Harry’s hands slid down to her ass, gripping her tightly as he thrust up, his face contorted with pleasure. Hermione’s breath caught, her chanting faltering for a moment as a wave of arousal washed over her, her skin flushing hot.
Get a grip, Hermione, she scolded herself, forcing her eyes back to the parchment. But the sounds were relentless—Celeste’s gasps, Harry’s groans, and the wet slap of skin against skin. The magic in the room was overwhelming, an intoxicating mix of power and desire that made her head spin.
She could feel it, the way it flowed through her, amplifying her own sensations, making her hyper-aware of every touch, every sound around her. Her nipples hardened beneath her bra, poking against the fabric, and she bit her lip harder, trying to suppress the urge to press her thighs together again.
Celeste leaned down, her lips brushing Harry’s ear as she whispered, “That’s it, Master. Let go. Give me everything.” Her voice was a sultry purr, and Harry responded with a low moan, his hands tightening on her hips as he thrust harder, faster. Celeste’s body trembled, her moans growing higher-pitched, and Hermione’s chanting stuttered again, her voice breaking as she watched them. The runes were blinding now, their light pulsing in time with Celeste’s movements, and Hermione could feel the magic reaching a peak, a raw, primal force that threatened to consume them all.
Hermione’s hands shook as she gripped the parchment, her voice rising to match the intensity of the ritual. She could feel the magic flowing through her, a torrent of energy that made her skin tingle and her heart pound. But her eyes kept drifting to the altar, to Harry’s flushed face, his parted lips, and the way his hands roamed Celeste’s body. Celeste’s breasts bounced with each thrust, her nipples hard and pink, and Harry’s fingers found them, pinching and teasing until Celeste cried out, her body shuddering.
Hermione’s breath hitched, her thighs pressing together as a pulse of heat shot through her. She could feel her own arousal, wet and insistent, and she cursed herself for it. This is for Harry, she repeated, but the mantra was losing its power. The sight of them, the sounds, the magic—it was too much. Her chanting grew louder, more desperate, as she tried to drown out her own thoughts, but her body was alive with sensation, her skin flushed, and her heart racing.
Celeste’s movements grew erratic, her moans turning into sharp cries as she neared her climax. Harry’s hands gripped her hips, guiding her as he thrust up, his own groans growing louder, more urgent. The runes flared, their light almost blinding, and Hermione could feel the magic surging, a tidal wave of power that threatened to sweep her away. Her voice broke, the incantations faltering as she watched Celeste throw her head back, her body convulsing as she came, her cry echoing in the chamber.
Harry followed moments later, his hips bucking as he groaned, his face contorted with pleasure. The runes blazed, their light filling the room, and Hermione’s chanting reached a fever pitch, her voice hoarse but steady as she poured her magic into the ritual. The energy was overwhelming, a rush of power that made her head spin and her body tremble. Her eyes widened when she realized she could feel it, the Horcrux weakening, its dark presence receding for a moment as Harry’s soul surged, strengthened by the ritual.
Celeste collapsed onto Harry, her body slick with sweat and her breath coming in sharp gasps. Harry’s arms wrapped around her, holding her close as they both caught their breath. The runes began to dim, their light fading as the magic settled, and Hermione’s chanting slowed, her voice softening until it was barely a whisper. She sagged against the altar, her legs weak, her body trembling with the aftershocks of the magic—and something else she knew but didn’t want to admit, even to herself.
Celeste lifted her head, her purple eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she looked at Hermione. “Well done, Miss Granger,” she purred, her voice still husky from her climax. “You were perfect. The runes held, the magic flowed. We’re one step closer to freeing Master Harry.”
Hermione nodded, her throat tight and her face still flushed. She couldn’t meet Celeste’s eyes or look at Harry who was still catching his breath, his arms tightly wrapped around Celeste’s bare curves.
“Is… is it done?” she finally asked, her voice barely audible.
“It’s only begun,” Celeste said, sliding off Harry and standing, her naked body glistening in the torchlight. “We’ve weakened the Horcrux only a little bit, and it’ll take many more sessions to destroy it completely. Seven women, remember? We’re just getting started.” She winked, and Hermione groaned, rubbing her temples.
Harry sat up, his face red, and his eyes avoiding Hermione’s. “Uh… thanks, Hermione,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “I know this was… weird.”
“Weird doesn’t begin to cover it,” Hermione snapped, but there was no real heat in her voice. She was too exhausted, too overwhelmed, to be truly angry. And deep down, buried beneath the embarrassment and the lingering arousal, she was curious. The magic had been unlike anything she’d ever felt, raw and powerful, and a part of her—a small, traitorous part—wanted to feel more.
Celeste stretched, attracting the gazes of both Harry and Hermione on her curves. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Miss Granger. You did wonderfully. And who knows? Maybe next time you’ll want to join in.” She smirked, and Hermione’s face flamed again.
“Not a chance,” Hermione said, but her voice lacked conviction. She turned away, focusing on the tome, trying to ignore the heat still pulsing through her body. This is for Harry, she told herself again, but the mantra was fading. The ritual was far from over, and she wasn’t sure how much more she could take.
xXx
The curse missed Bill's head by maybe an inch. He hit the concrete hard, rolling behind a stack of crates as more green light split the air where he'd been standing. Death Eaters kept popping up from behind shipping containers like some twisted game of hide-and-seek.
"This is bollocks," Kingsley Shacklebolt muttered, firing off three curses in rapid succession. "Intelligence said six Death Eaters, max."
Bill counted at least twelve, and that was just the ones he could see. The warehouse stretched into darkness, containers stacked everywhere creating perfect ambush spots. They'd walked straight into a trap.
The mission was supposed to be simple. Greyback had been using this place to turn prisoners into werewolves for Voldemort's army. Get in, document everything, rescue whoever was left alive, get out. Clean and easy.
Nothing about this felt clean.
"Three more coming from the east corridor," Remus called out, his wand already moving. A Death Eater's scream echoed off the walls.
Bill ducked as another curse exploded the crate next to his head, sending shrapnel flying around. A few cut his cheek and he hissed in pain.
"Where the hell is Greyback?" he shouted.
A growl answered him from somewhere in the darkness. Not human. Not quite animal either.
"Right here, curse-breaker."
Fenrir Greyback stepped into the light cast by spell-fire. His face was already shifting even though the full moon was three days away. Yellow eyes locked onto Bill like he was looking at his next meal.
"Been waiting for you," Greyback said, saliva dripping from teeth that were getting longer by the second. "Heard you were the one breaking into all our little hideouts."
Bill's blood went cold. This wasn't random. They'd been specifically targeted.
"You're outnumbered," Bill said, raising his wand. Complete lie. The Death Eaters had them surrounded, and Greyback looked like he could take on half the Order by himself.
"Numbers don't matter when you're about to be dinner."
Greyback moved faster than anything that size should move. Bill's stunning spell went wide as the werewolf twisted in mid-air, his claws extended. Bill threw himself backward but there was nowhere to go. His head cracked against the concrete floor hard enough to see stars.
Greyback's weight pinned him down. Claws raked across his chest, tearing through his robes like paper. The werewolf's face was inches from his throat, his breath hot and rancid.
Bill got his forearm up just as Greyback's jaws snapped down. The fangs punched through flesh and bone like they were made for it. The pain was unbearable and immediate. Not just the physical agony of teeth sinking into muscle, but something deeper. Something that felt like liquid fire burning through his veins.
He screamed. Couldn't help it.
"Reducto!" Remus roared desperately. "Get off him!"
Remus's curse hit Greyback in the shoulder, spinning him around. But the werewolf just laughed, blood and saliva dripping from his mouth as he turned to Remus.
"Too late, little brat," Greyback snarled. "He's mine now."
Bill looked at his arm. The bite marks went deep, and bone was visible through torn flesh. But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was the burning sensation spreading from the wound, like poison racing through his bloodstream.
"No," he whispered. "No, no, no."
"Bill!" Remus appeared at his side, his wand raised defensively. "How bad?"
Bill couldn't answer. The warehouse was spinning around him, and he could feel something changing inside him. Something fundamental. The curse was taking hold fast, faster than should be possible.
"Full bite," he managed. "Not just claws."
Remus's face went white. They both knew what that meant.
"We need to get you out of here," Remus said, but to Bill, his voice sounded like it was coming from underwater. The curse was working through his system like wildfire.
"The prisoners," Bill said through gritted teeth. "We can't—"
"Mission's over," Kingsley said, appearing beside them. "We're leaving. Now."
But the Death Eaters had other ideas. Curses started flying from all directions. Kingsley threw up a shield charm that cracked under the assault. More Death Eaters were apparating in, surrounding them completely.
"You're not going anywhere," Greyback said, stalking closer. "Not until I finish what I started."
Bill tried to stand but his legs wouldn't hold him. The curse was spreading faster than anything he'd ever heard of. His vision blurred. His skin felt like it was burning from the inside out.
"I can't—" His voice cracked. "I can't move."
"Yes, you can." Remus grabbed his good arm, hauling him to his feet. "Stay with me, Bill. Focus on my voice."
His face was calm and full of understanding. He'd been through this before, decades ago. He knew what Bill was feeling right now.
"It hurts," Bill whispered.
"I know," Remus said gently. "But you're going to be okay. We're going to get through this."
Greyback was circling them now, enjoying the show. The other Death Eaters hung back, smart enough to stay out of range when their werewolf ally was in hunting mode.
"You can feel it, can't you?" Greyback called out. "The change. The hunger. You're one of us now, curse-breaker. Might as well embrace it."
Bill's wand hand was shaking. Not from fear, but from the raw power building inside him. The curse was remaking him from the inside out, and he could feel his human consciousness starting to fragment.
"Bill." Remus's voice was gentle. "Look at me. Don't listen to him. You're still you."
"I can't—" Bill's voice was different now. Deeper. More animal. "I can't control it."
"Yes, you can." Remus stepped closer, ignoring the battle raging around them. "The curse doesn't change who you are inside. It just changes how you have to live."
Bill met Remus's eyes. The older werewolf's face was steady, calm, and understanding. He'd learned to live with the beast inside him, found a way to stay human despite the curse.
"You're not alone in this," Remus said consolingly. "I promise you that."
A curse exploded near their feet. The Death Eaters were closing in, and they were running out of time.
"We have to go," Kingsley said. "Now."
But Bill couldn't move. The transformation was happening too fast. His body was changing, his muscles stretching and reforming. His senses were exploding with new information. He could smell everything now—the fear-sweat of his friends, the metallic tang of blood, and the rage-scent of the Death Eaters.
"I can't apparate," he said. "Something's wrong."
"The curse interferes with it," Remus said. "During the first transformation, you can't disapparate, either by yourself or with someone else. We'll have to fight our way out."
Greyback laughed. "Good luck with that."
More Death Eaters appeared from the shadows. They were completely surrounded now, and Bill was more liability than asset. He could barely stand, let alone fight.
"Leave me," he said. "Get out of here."
"Not happening," Remus said. He grabbed Bill around the waist, supporting most of his weight. "Kingsley, can you clear us a path?"
"Already on it." Kingsley's wand was a blur of motion, spells flying in all directions. But there were too many of them.
A curse caught Kingsley in the shoulder, spinning him around. He went down hard, his wand skittering across the concrete.
"Kingsley!" Remus shouted, but he couldn't let go of Bill without dropping him.
That's when Greyback made his move. The werewolf lunged toward the fallen Auror, his claws extended. But Remus was faster. He shoved Bill behind a container and threw himself between Greyback and Kingsley.
The two werewolves collided roughly. They rolled across the concrete, snarling and punching at each other. Remus was skilled, but Greyback was bigger and stronger. And he wasn't holding back.
Bill watched helplessly as Greyback's claws raked across Remus's chest. The older werewolf's blood splattered the concrete. It was apparent that he was losing.
"Remus!" Bill tried to raise his wand, but his hand was shaking too badly. The curse was reaching its peak now, and he could feel his mind starting to slip away.
Greyback had Remus pinned, his jaws snapping toward his throat. Bill could see the exact moment when Remus's strength gave out.
Fortunately, Kingsley was back on his feet, his wand raised.
The curse hit Greyback square in the back, sending him through a large container. Greyback collided hard against the metal, leaving Remus gasping on the concrete.
"Run," Kingsley whispered, quickly casting some basic healing spells on Remus and roughly hoisting him to his feet. "We have no choice but to run."
But there was nowhere to run. The Death Eaters had them surrounded completely. The warehouse was a maze of containers, and they'd lost all sense of direction.
"This way," Kingsley said, grabbing Bill's other arm. Between him and Remus, they managed to get Bill moving toward what looked like an exit.
Curses flew past their heads. A container exploded to their left, showering them with twisted metal. They were running blind now, just trying to stay ahead of the Death Eaters.
"There!" Remus pointed toward a loading dock. "If we can make it outside—"
A curse caught him in the leg. He went down hard, taking Bill with him. They hit the concrete in a tangle of limbs.
"Remus!" Bill tried to help him up, but his own body was barely responding. The curse was almost complete now. His vision was shifting, colors becoming more intense. He could smell individual Death Eaters, could track their movements by scent alone.
"Go," Remus said through gritted teeth. "Leave me."
"Not happening," Bill said. His voice was barely human now, but his resolve was stronger than ever. "We go together or not at all."
Kingsley stood with his back to them, breathing hard as he maintained his shield. "I can't hold them much longer. We need to move."
"I can't walk," Remus said. "Leg's broken."
Bill looked at his friend, then at the Death Eaters closing in from all sides. The curse was making him stronger, faster. He could feel power flooding his muscles even as his human consciousness began to fragment.
“Then I guess we have no other choice,” he said resignedly.
“Bill… no!”
The warning came too late, and Remus could only watch on helplessly as Bill Weasley finally stopped fighting what he’d become.
Comments
Thrivean
Well, I’m caught up lol. This is a fantastic story so far and the writing has been great. I’m curious on how you plan to get the other girls there, but I’m looking forward to it being a Haphne shipper myself. Excited for the next chapter, and I’m always around if you need someone to bounce plot ideas off of/need a beta reader
