Penthuisiast
patreon
SD: CH88 -Hermione's Resolve
🕑 Added 2023-10-06 19:56:35 +0000 UTCExhaustion weighed Hermione down.
After those twisted deathly energies had polluted her insides, and sunk her beneath a world of inky blackness, she hadn’t really anticipated waking up to Hestia bawling her lungs out. It probably said something about the corruption that was slowly taking over her soul, that her first instinct wasn’t to barge in and demand what was going on, but to stick to the shadows, and silently pace her way to the guest room where the sounds and the scents were greatest. The house reeked of sex, again, nothing unexpected, but given how Harry much Harry was panicking, it was surprising that sex was even on the table after that. Especially with that other Lady, Emmeline Vance being present.
She knew her Harry held a lot of secrets. At times, it made her wonder if this was even Harry Potter at all. The Harry she knew was an introvert, one that was afraid to even be in the centre of the class and always chose to sit close to the walls, preferably at the back of the class. It was like he believed that if he was out of everyone’s sight, they would not notice him, and things would be… safer. She had never quite vocalised it out loud, but she suspected that Harry was abused by his relatives. So when Harry had gone ahead and purchased a lavish building, and begun to make such flamboyant statements in the wizarding world, Hermione knew that something was utterly wrong.
She had often accompanied the two of them as they sat around discussing business. Hestia would begin with broad, sweeping statements, but Hermione had quickly learned that those did not suffice for him. Harry wanted to know everything there was to know, even about people that weren’t in politics. It was clear that his thirst for the knowledge was less of a curiosity, and more of an obsession, as if even the slightest amount of trivia was worth hundreds of galleons to him.
And if his claims about having an eidetic memory were true, then he was literally absorbing information about people like a sponge.
Harry had tried to hide it when he was asking the more probing questions, but Hermione was no slouch at reading between the lines. The way he asked pointed questions to his secretary, asked them again and asked more about specific people until he was satisfied and told her that he knew them, or knew of them, at least. And then there was the intimate knowledge he held about a few select people, and his skill at managing business, and his surprisingly elevated skill at spellcasting. She had always known that Harry was smart, and there was clearly some plan he was crafting along the way, and he wasn’t going to enter anything with the proverbial wands blazing.
Harry Potter over the past few years was a doer.
This one was a schemer. A manipulator. One was more than willing to play dirty if it served his purposes.
Still, she had definitely not expected the reason behind the change to be just that… surreal.
Like seriously, time-travel?
It was the stuff of science fiction. Nothing in her limited experience in the wizarding world had proven that such a thing existed, but in hindsight, where a person could just vanish from a certain spot and reappear several miles away, and a world where people used fireplaces to teleport across large distances, time-travel ceased to be loopy and merely something surprising.
And from the way Hestia talked about it, the Unspeakables definitely had something going along in that line of research.
She had stuck to the shadows like a mannequin, breathing as softly as possible, listening as Harry revealed his past life to Hestia Jones. Hermione had been absolutely floored on hearing about how things had fallen apart, how the actions, or rather, the inactions of the Headmaster, had led to Voldemort inevitably winning the war. The anger that exuded out of Harry was absolutely real, and even though Hermione had the feeling that something was missing in his story, there was no doubt that much of what he was speaking was the truth. She had been shocked to hear that the last time around, she had been dating Ron Weasley, and more importantly, had not been turned into a werewolf. Sirius Black had been alive and remained a fugitive, until his unfortunate demise in fifth year at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange, You-Know-Who’s right hand. The more he said, the drearier and ghastlier the image of the future became in her eyes, until it all came to an unfortunate end, with You-Know-Who summoning demons and destroying everything. At this point, Hermione wanted nothing but to rush in and hug her best friend and lover, and help him release all that suffering, all those bitter memories he had borne all this time.
But she hadn’t.
Instead she had listened.
She bore witness as Hestia revealed how she had cast the Imperius curse on Emmeline, and her reasons behind it. She had rushed out of the room in tears, and Harry had followed suit soon after, and neither had seen Hermione crouching behind a wall. She had followed soon after, and heard everything that happened after that. Seeing Harry have sex, no, seeing him make love to Hestia Jones had filled Hermione with an acute sense of territoriality, and it took her everything not to slam the door open and hurl the bitch away and take her place.
But she couldn’t.
Despite her own vow to Harry, she was yet unable to connect with him in the way Hestia did. It hurt her, and made her feel utterly inferior and burning in jealousy and disappointment, but Hermione was too self-aware to sink herself in delusions. Yes, Harry loved her, and would never betray her, and if necessary, die for her. And so would she. But somehow, that bond was still less than the one he had with Hestia.
And the results were vivid. Quite literally, if their discussions about Hestia becoming Harry’s Lilim was any clue.
And after hearing everything about the Tether system, and Hestia gaining something he called a Perk that granted her Eternal Youth, Hermione could not hold herself back anymore. She had charged in, demanding the truth, and he repeated everything she already knew, yet somehow, it felt worse.
Exhausting.
Hermione was exhausted. Terrified. Disappointed. In herself. In the world. In how things had turned out, would turn out.
But somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to blame Harry Potter for all this mess that was her life.
“And that’s all,” said Harry, finishing his story. The three of them were on the bed, with Harry holding her hand as he explained everything in absolute detail. Sometime during the entire thing, Hestia had coiled around his waist, and was caressing his cock lovingly, while Harry caressed her face with his left hand.
“I understand,” Hermione said at last. “And I get it, Harry. I am willing to swear an Unbreakable Vow to you right away. I—”
“Gods, Hermione,” he said, grabbing her hand and stopping her from reaching her wand. “Did you learn nothing from Hestia’s case?”
“Hestia swore an Unbreakable Vow to you too.”
“Yes, over a week away. And last I checked, that didn’t qualify her for being a Lilim. Don’t you see it, a Vow isn’t the same as devotion, Hermione. It’s just a way of using Magic to make or prevent someone from doing something. It’s coercion at its peak.”
“But Harry, you know I swore to be on your side always —”
“And I know that, Hermione. But vows are tricky things, and shaped by your deepest desires. You want to help me, yes, but if that somehow, in your head, translates to standing against me for my own good, then not only will the vow not stop you from doing it, it will actually urge you to do it, doesn’t matter if your actions are correct or not. So long as you think that what you’re doing is right and will help me, you will end up doing it. The Vow will ensure that.”
Hermione wanted to cry. “Then — then I’ll just swear to be devoted to you. I’ll do whatever you say, Harry. I’ll obey every order you make. I’ll — I’ll—”
She couldn’t finish that statement, for Harry pulled her and hugged her. Hard.
“Tell me, my Hermione,” he said, his voice soothing, “if you do that, would you not be surrendering your independence? Would you be truly happy to do whatever you’re told? Can you truly accept that as your life?”
“If that’s what I need to do for you, then —”
“No,” he told her, his voice filled with a sense of finality. “You will not. Oh you might take the vow, yes. You might even follow my every command without fail, yes. But sooner or later, you will begin to fight it. Hate it. You are a stubborn and fiercely independent witch, Hermione, and as much as that is a giant pain up my arse, it’s what makes you You. If I — if this Vow takes that away from you, then you do not stay yourself any longer. You’d just be a puppet. And if not, then you’d start feeling disgust, feeling trapped, and that would eventually make you hate your existence, hate…. Me. And I don’t think I could take that.”
“I would never hate you, Harry,” she bawled. “I can never hate you.”
“Yes, because you are now yourself. But when I take your identity, your originality, your stubbornness from you, you do not stay you anymore.”
“That’s bullshit,” Hermione snapped, feeling angry, frustrated, and trapped. “Hestia has become a Lilim. Does that mean she isn’t herself? Or is it about casting the curse? In that case, just teach me the wand movement and I’ll do it. I swear I will.”
Harry chuckled. “Is that what you think happened?”
“Stop mocking me, Harry Potter, or I’ll hex you.”
“I’m not mocking you,” he told her. “I’m just noting the fact that you heard her talking about casting the imperius curse, and were so ready to cast one yourself, but never truly realised what it meant.”
Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Explain it to me.”
Harry caressed Hestia’s face, and the woman moaned softly. She might as well be his dog.
Bitch.
“It’s not about casting the unforgivable curse. It’s about the mindset. Emmeline was Hestia’s mentor in the Order of the Phoenix. She trained Hestia to become a successful covert operative. She gave her life a new meaning, a new purpose. And not only did Hestia not ditch that purpose, she went against the Order to support me instead. You can say that I have become her purpose. And she chose it, on her own accord. I’m still not sure what I did to deserve it, but I’m not going to complain.”
Hestia kissed his hand softly. “Nor should you, Harry.”
He looked at her and smiled. “I won’t.”
Hermione growled.
He laughed at her impatience. “You don’t see the deeper meaning here, Hermione. Hestia cast the Imperius on Emmeline, and took control of her will. Because she thought that Emmeline might be a danger to me or my plans. Before my safety, Emmeline’s will, her desires, or wishes — none of that matters to Hestia. She has, in her mind, placed me on a pedestal so high, that the entire world feels like it was less relevant to Hestia than fulfilling my desires. That is the level of her devotion. That is why she’s my Lilim.”
Hestia kissed his hand again.
“Then what do I do, Harry?” asked Hermione, feeling desperation gnaw inside her stomach. “How do I prove my dedication to you?”
He touched her cheek with his right hand. “Nothing, Hermione. Albus Dumbledore has always claimed that Love is one of the six powerful forces of the Universe, and contains a power that one cannot even truly understand, much less control. I know of Hestia’s devotion because I have proof of it, but I refuse to believe that it is the only form through which devotion, through which pure, unconditional love can manifest. But I know that if there is, then you’ll surely find it. And when you do, you’ll be my Lilim. Until then, you’re my Hermione, and that is no less than a Lilim.”
“But —”
“Listen to him, Hermione,” said Hestia. “I know you don’t like me very much. Even less ever since you found out that I was a spy. I know that you look down on me for opening my legs for Harry, and you probably hate me a little because I became his Lilim. But believe me, this isn't a competition. I’ve given him all that I am, not expecting anything in return. I was ready to walk away from his life, believing that he would never look upon me without casting aspersions on my character. That he could call me a criminal. Instead he gave me his love.”
She grabbed his hand and placed it between her breasts. “Harry, do you feel it? The way my heart beasts?” There was something intense in the way she said it, and even Harry was affected by it. “Do you feel how my pulse is rising? It’s because of my devotion to you. The joy of the miracle of feeling this much contentment, this much love… It's overwhelming. I can feel you, Harry. You… you complete me.”
She met Hermione’s eyes. “Call that what you will, but that is what makes me a Lilim. When you feel the same, I have no doubt you will join me.”
Her words struck a chord in Hermione. Hestia was smiling, her expression bordering on serenity, and her words felt both pleasant and painful at the same time. The look she had on her face could be called proud, but it was pride not out of attainment of something, but from the realisation of a sense of oneness with Harry, which probably explained how she was able to use the Tether system Harry spoke of earlier, and was granted a perk from her Incubus Lord.
She swallowed through a dry mouth. “I… I suppose.” Then in a smaller voice, she said. “And if it isn’t me, then perhaps someone else can add to his Lilims. The more he has, the safer he is. Isn’t that right, Harry?”
“Hermione,” he pleaded. “Please don’t make me out as if I’ve got nothing better to do than collect women for myself. I’m a fighter —”
“And an incubus,” she said slowly. “Sorry. Incubus Lord. And you said it, the more Lilims you have, the more protected you are.”
“I don’t need your protection, Hermione —”
“Oh, so it’s fine if you worry about little ole’ me, but when I do it, it becomes an issue? I didn’t know you grew up to become such a chauvinistic pig, Harry Potter.”
He opened his mouth, and closed it again.
Hermione put her hand over her lips and giggled. “There. You can work on protecting the world from Voldemort and his demons, and your women will work on protecting you. Obviously you’ve got Hestia digging information on people, so maybe you can give me something to do as well? Maybe research on these…. Horcruxes? Or perhaps help you study your necromancy abilities that you gained from You-Know-Who?” She ran her fingers through her hair. “Bloody hell! Next year is gonna be awfully busy, isn’t it?”
“No Hermione,” said Harry with a straight face. “You may not take up living inside the Hogwarts library.”
Hestia snorted.
“And unless things change drastically,” said Harry. “We will have the Triwizard Tournament next year, and I’ll get chosen as the Fourth Champion. Come to think of it…” he paused. “I think I’ll just go ahead and drop my name in the Goblet of Fire, with Ron and the twins as witness. If I have to deal with that madness all over again, there’s no way I’m dealing with Ron’s jealousy and Malfoy’s idiocy all over again.”
“We don’t have to care about Ron,” she said without the slightest affliction. “He chose his fear over me, remember? Jealous or not, he doesn’t matter. Not anymore. Not to us.”
“He is… our friend, Hermione.”
“Perhaps, if I were a normal witch. But I am not. I’m a werewolf, and that was before I got infected with that Necromancy radiation. I don’t know what it did to me, but I feel a little different. I feel… Calm.”
“That might be a good thing, Hermione,” joked Harry. “I won’t be able to fuck you all day to satiate the beast at school.”
“Prat,” said Hermione, hitting him softly. “But I’m serious, Harry. I don’t know what’s happening to me. But I’ll figure that out later. More important is that you’ve kept me in the dark for all this time, and as much as I want to kill you for that, I won’t. But you’ve got to promise me not to do that any longer.”
He looked slightly conflicted.
Hermione frowned. “Can you at least tell me some of it, provided they are not ruining your plans?”
The conflict rose even further. “Let’s… let’s just say that until I know more about what I’m up against, I’m playing things a lot closer to the chest than usual.”
“Tell me you aren’t doing it for my own protection.”
“You’d kick my arse,” said Harry, laughing. “Literally, what with your werewolf strength. No, I’m doing it for mine.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I think.”
“Don’t thank me,:” he said. “I’m still keeping you in the dark. And if all of this wouldn’t have happened, then you’d not have become a werewolf. You’d have —”
“Forced myself to think of you as a brother, date Ron Weasley, marry him, and then die in the end while trying to protect you,” Hermione recited. “No Harry, I like this me better. Yes, I’m cursed, but I’m also stronger. And unlike last time, I have you with me in ways I didn’t have the previous time.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“Of course you will,” she said, grinning. “It’s my bloody life. Now tell me, what are you about to do? What with Vance being under the Imperius, and all the nastiness that is going on?”
Harry shook his head and gave her a mirthless smile. “Well, the first thing I’ve got to do is write a letter to Amelia Bones, and send her the memory. I will probably have to meet her sometime in the next couple of days, and discuss things in private. Emmeline will likely want to do the same.”
“You also have a date with Tonks, Harry,” suggested Hestia.
Harry frowned. “That… will have to wait. I have bigger fish to fry at the moment. Sorry, Hestia. Time is flying and I need some things in place before the Quidditch World Cup happens. I have a lot banking on that event.”
“Like taking care of Lucius Malfoy?” she asked.
Harry looked taken aback.
“You did tell me that you planned to end the Malfoy problem by the end of summer. I imagined that between all the crowd, it was your best place to end him for good.”
“Hestia,” said Hermione, scandalised. “Surely you cannot mean —”
“That I plan to murder Lucius Malfoy?” asked Harry without the slightest affliction to his voice. “Yes. I do. Or at least, I will try my best to.”
“But Harry, that’s —”
“If you’re going to say that it’s wrong, Hermione,” snapped Hestia, “then I’d like to remind you about your desire to cast the Imperius curse. Oh, and that you’re actually sitting with someone that has cast it on a friend.”
Hermione scowled. “I was going to say dangerous. Lucius Malfoy’s… powerful, and dangerous and knows an awful lot of the Dark Arts.”
“And Harry’s fought him,” retorted Hestia. “Haven’t you, Harry?”
Said boy in question looked a little conflicted. “Actually, I haven’t.”
“But you said —”
“I never fought Lucius Malfoy,” he admitted. “He was one of those slippery bastards that always managed to escape. Sirius fought him though, and nearly defeated him, when Bellatrix hit him with the killing curse in my fifth year.”
Hermione watched his expressions. During the entire summer, there had never been a single moment when Harry looked half as cautious as now. Hell, he had gone to visit the stern DMLE Director in her own manor, and he hadn’t even broken a sweat.
Lucius Malfoy… frightened him. Whether or not Harry wanted to acknowledge that, it was the truth.
Though why he was so singularly focussed on killing that one man, Hermione did not know. But it looked like Hestia did, and the woman also had a personal bone to pick with Malfoy Senior. Hermione could only wish that Hestia would not get carried away in her tunnel vision and lead Harry to harm. That blind devotion of hers would probably even facilitate things against Harry’s favour because she’d be blindly following his orders.
No, the more she thought about it, the less appealing the entire Lilim thing felt.
As for Eternal Youth, what good was it when she had to spend it as one of Harry’s many women? No, she’d rather stay as she was, and prove herself to be the best of the lot. And then when she was gone, she would forever remain in his heart and mind. And that would be how she would win.
But one thing was certain. Harry had a long way ahead, and innumerable enemies to bury. Hermione did not choose to gain this dark power flooding through her veins, but by Morgana, if she had it, she was going to use every bit of it to help Harry achieve his dreams. Hermione didn’t know what her future-self would think of her current aspirations, but given that she had died, in Harry’s own words, protecting Harry, not Ron — her husband, but Harry, the Hermione Granger from the other life would wholeheartedly accept her decision.
Her life, for Harry Potter’s safety.
“But have you ever fought him?” She heard Hestia ask.
“Not… quite,” he admitted. “Kingsley Shaklebolt did though. As did Mad-Eye Moody. And of course, Sirius, not that I managed to save him at all this time around. For all my attempts, I am just making things even worse, it seems.”
For a moment, Hermione thought Harry was second-guessing himself. Maybe he was, but his next words suggested anything but that.
“But that’s alright,” he said, with a determined grin. “I have a plan. Well, plans really. Lucius Malfoy will die, and he will die by my hand. I will snatch the Black Lordship from under his nose, and become Lord Black, just like Sirius wanted. That much is given.” He paused, as if considering his words. “My real issue is that certain things are different this time around. Last time, Lucius didn’t return to Voldemort until he resurrected at the end of my fourth year. This time, he’s already serving him. There are a lot of unknowns, so I’m trying to play it safe.”
“I think we should involve Professor Dumbledore in this, Harry,” said Hermione gravely. “Whatever his faults, he is the greatest wizard out there.”
“Hardly,” said Harry. “He’s great in his spheres of magic. That much I will agree. He’s a sorcerer, and a master at Transfiguration. Just like Voldemort is a Necromancer, and an unparalleled master of the Dark Arts. I am an Incubus, and I have my own spheres of magic. Those two are titans, yes, but I will be one too. I just need to get something done first.”
“You mean activating your Lecherous Shrine.”
She had heard a lot about this mythical power that was Harry’s to claim, one that had already entranced the Head Obliviator despite her formidable mental defences. The researcher in her couldn’t wait to do the same, and wondered just how difficult learning Legilimency could be. Besides, she didn’t want to defend herself from Harry. She just wanted to fall all in, and meet this subconscious form of his.
The idea of meeting Harry’s subconscious, inside a mindscape that was a manifestation of the future, and a shrine devoted to the powers of an eldritch demon that he was slowly becoming….
It was absolutely fascinating.
“...Yes.”
“Well then, what’s stopping you?” Hermione asked. “What do you need?”
He flushed, and muttered something under his breath.
“Louder, Harry.”
“I said, I need to have sex with some more women, and establish emotional bonds with them, enough to hit a….” he paused, as if calculating something, “A… a threshold, of sorts. I think six to seven girls, or women should be nearly enough to get the job done. Maybe less, but that depends on the bonds I have with them.”
Hermione growled. “Hearing your boyfriend speak about wanting to fuck seven other women is usually grounds for hexing him six ways to Sunday. Instead here I am, actually thinking of who would fit best on that list. Have you, perchance, thought of Clearwater? She swoons if you so much as look at her. I didn’t know someone could have it worse than Ginny.”
Harry chuckled. “I thought you disliked her.”
“I don’t dislike her,” said Hermione offhandedly. “I just don’t care that she exists.”
That made him laugh. “Well, she’s a possibility, but we need a lot more.”
“Tonks?”
Harry gave Hestia a fleeting look. “Honestly, while I’m all for meeting her, her sudden interest feels… weird to me. And she didn’t look like the kind to spread her legs after the first date. Tonks is… a long-term project, and I don’t want her to fall into the same fate as last time.”
Hestia flinched.
“But I need more. And I have some plans, but let’s see. Ideally, I would like to have all seven before the Quidditch World Cup starts.”
“I’ll get on it,” promised Hestia.
“But Harry,” said Hermione. “If we’re really doing this, and the more Lilims we have, the stronger and safer you are, shouldn’t we look for people that can actually contribute something. Like that Tonks woman! She’s an Auror, right? And a metamorphmagus. So she’s definitely in.” She turned to Hestia. “No offence.”
“None taken,” Hestia drawled. “I have to say, Hermione. This went weird fast. I expected you to run sobbing to your room, not start playing matchmaker for him.”
“Yeah, I thought so too,” Hermione admitted. “But as Harry just said, I’m me because I’m stubborn. I don’t need to be utterly devoted to him and submit to him to be of use to him. Mark my words, Hestia Jones,” she said coldly, her ferality leaking through her voice as she regarded the woman. “I want you to know that I absolutely despise you for what happened tonight, and I will never forgive you for this. If I thought Harry could be safe with just me, I’d have done my utmost to remove you from his life, so that I could have him all to myself. He was supposed to come to you just for sex, but tonight, you made love to him, and that, in my eyes, is unforgivable. But if I did that, then Harry….”
Her voice trailed off, a hitch appearing in it.
“Hermione,” Harry cried, his voice louder than usual.
After several long moments of silence, Hermione spoke again. “I don’t care if I’m a Lilim or not. I don’t care if I can even become a Lilim or not. But I want you to understand something very clearly, Hestia Jones.”
Her eyes turned silver.
“Harry is my only reason for living. I love my parents dearly, I really do. But sadly, I don’t see myself continuing on without him. And the one thing I find more intolerable than a world without him, is a world that has the nerve to permit the existence of any and everything that allowed him to be taken from me.”
She did not know it then, both individuals that were looking at her were actually staring at the dark aura that was rising out of her. An aura that did not have anything to do with her status as a witch, or the corruption that was the lycanthropy curse. An aura that could only consume and consume until nothing but the cold emptiness of death remained behind.
An aura of pure Necromantic energy.
“Uh,” Hestia swallowed. “Yes. Absolutely. I get you.”
“Good,” said Hermione, as the aura around her fiddled out of existence, as her normally innocent smile returned. “Now, what do you think of Parvati Patil? She’s great at networking and knows nearly everyone at school. She’d be able to get you the best of the lot when the term starts.”
“I’ve released a monster,” Harry laughed.
“And don’t you forget it,” said Hermione, giggling.
She might not be his Lilim, but she was His Hermione. And for her, that was everything that mattered.
Comments
Critical_Hit
Amazing as always, nice little hint at the end. It let's me think about outcomes that could happen with Hermione. Lots of love. Always happy when I get an email that a new chapter is out ❤
