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SD: CH83 - A Most Unorthodox Deal
🕑 Added 2023-09-10 17:53:11 +0000 UTCShe knew!
She knew!
She fucking knew about Narcissa!
I… I’m a fucking fool. I should have known that there would be problems with me letting someone else in. But I hadn’t cared. I wanted the dream memory so bad, that I fucking sent an accomplished Legilimens trekking into my memories. And whatever this subconscious form of mine was, he must have been dying for some normal conversation, because there was no other way he’d be chatting up Emmeline Vance, and blurting my secrets like they were on clearance sale before Christmas night. He doubted he’d need to come to blows with Emmeline, and even if he did, they were trapped in the room and she obviously had a far greater experience and arsenal of spells. I wasn’t any slouch either, and could draw upon my own knowledge of dark spells I had picked up from the Black Library. Worse came to worst, I could always draw some help from Natural Demon and…
Bugger! I didn’t have Natural Demon anymore. It was Malevolent Release, and I had no idea just how dangerous and uncontrollable something like that could be. Especially when facing someone I wanted to contain but not kill.
Options… options… She had anchorage, even if it was just 28%. Not even halfway. Using Devils’ Charm wouldn’t work either. She was too strong an Occlumens for that. Obliviation? Hah! Good joke. Perhaps I could blackmail her? She was a Lady, and I doubted she’d want the world to know that she fucked a sleeping schoolboy. No wait, I couldn’t do that. Anything and everything that happened here tonight was protected under confidentiality oaths. But between the two of us, she had a better chance of twisting the oath to her privilege.
I had really cursed myself in the foot with this one, hadn’t I?
But perhaps I was considering things the wrong way. The conventional methods of wizardry wouldn’t work on her. Emmeline was my superior in spellcasting, knowledge and experience. My Incubi powers would run into a roadblock forged by her Occlumency defences. And I doubted she would cast the Imperius at me, so my Defiant perk was just as useless in this case. Maybe if I hadn’t used up all my Meta-Luck, I could have used it to enact a minor miracle and make her forget it all.
But I wasn’t just a Wizard or an Incubus, was I? I was an Outlander, someone capable of travelling through all Paths of Magic, and I very conveniently had a Path that she would be extremely vulnerable to.
The Necromancer.
We had fucked just some time ago. Her fluids were still in the other room. Worse came to worst, I could use those as a symbolic connection to Emmeline’s body, and use Voodoo on her from afar. It would be dirty, but it would work. I could also radiate raw Death energy into the room. If I was fast, I could hit her with it, before she could unlock the wards she had placed and get out of the room, and none of the conventional shields would work against necromantic energies. I could always keep her like that until I had discussed things further with Hestia.
Hestia, who was already pissed because of whatever happened with Emmeline earlier.
Damn it. Stupid Child of Prophecy perk. I swear it’s more trouble than it’s worth.
“Are you done?” she asked, snapping me out of my thoughts faster than a cold bucket of water ever could as I was reminded of the bigger issue facing me.
But it also helped me set my head on straight. I wasn’t just… anyone. I was Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived. And more importantly, the partner of Narcissa Malfoy and the love of Amelia Bones. Both were women of considerable power and connections. And most importantly, if Emmeline tried something, I would know that she betrayed me.
The pounding of my heart began to abate with that thought, slowing till it approached something that I could at least pretend was normal.
“Yes.”
She let out a small, refined snort through her nose. “I had estimated at least a sixty percent chance of you attacking me. I could almost see the thoughts speeding through your head. It’s ironic, I suppose, but you really need to develop formidable Occlumency defences, if you want even a tenth of your plans to succeed.”
“Thanks for the advice,” I kept my voice level and polite. “Why don’t we stop dancing around each other and address the elephant in the room?”
An obnoxious smug smirk lifted the corner of Emmeline’s mouth. “Very well. I don’t know what you are, Harry Potter, but it’s obvious that you aren’t a wizard, incubus or a necromancer. The powers you play with are mutually antithetic and yet you use them almost as casually as if they bend their own natures to follow your command. And neither is your knowledge of our world, your extreme reactions to British policies, or your business acumen something that third-year passout Harry Potter can naturally have.”
“Are you accusing me of being an imposter?”
The smug look fell right off her face. “As much as I want to, I cannot. Not after what I just went through. Honestly, I had several theories in mind, some of them even featuring something as outlandish as Time travel, especially after you played Albus Dumbledore. But now I know that isn’t the case. You are an enigma, Harry Potter, and I’ll figure you out.”
I tried not to look puzzled. Just what had she experienced in my mindscape?
“I wish to propose a deal,” she said finally.
“What deal?”
“It’s obvious that you do not know about the developments of your own powers, which means that your subconscious is way ahead of you in doing… whatever it is up to. Almost like a… split personality. And that can be immensely dangerous in the long run, which is why….” She took a deep breath. “I’ll continue teaching you the psychic arts, and help you reach your mindscape, understand it, develop it, and control your own subconscious. And you will help me access the Shrine, and whatever I find within, I will share with you.”
“And why should I agree to that?”
“Well for one, that is the place where your dreams, and your little excursions into the Dark Lord’s mind are hidden.”
“Maybe,” I retorted. “Doesn’t mean I have to grant you access to all my secrets for that. Just stick to teaching me Occlumency, and I’ll figure out how to get those dreams myself.”
“Potter…” Her voice gained an edge, and I sensed she was walking a fine line between compromise and desperation. “Try to understand. That place is… alien. It’s not a mindscape, it’s… so much more. That place cares for no rules but its own, like a micro-reality shipping across the greater reality, a distortive magic I have never seen before, one that beckons me to grasp it. I…. I….” Her eyes had almost turned glassy as she spoke, as if she was entering another trance. “I need to find out its secrets, and whatever I need to do to get there, I will.”
She stood up and grabbed my hands, her forwardness taking me by surprise. “What do you want me to do? Swear an unbreakable vow? Because I will. Hestia is already your informant in the Order. Two are better than one, right? And I’ll obviously teach you everything I know about the psychic arts, and my oaths keep everything secret.”
What the fuck was going on? Her actions were… bizarre. Yes, she was entranced with the Shrine, whatever the fuck kind of magic it was, but more than anything, it was like she was obsessed with it.
Or perhaps… I mused, enthralled by it? Like a compulsion charm?
But she’s an Occlumens, a part of me pointed out.
So was Amelia. Another part of me whispered. Didn’t stop the Throes of Ecstasy from getting through, did it?
It was a valid point. The Throes of Ecstasy was a condition imposed by my Devil’s Charm, in which I bombarded the victim hundreds and thousands of moments of orgasmic pleasure, frozen and layered atop one another, each of them a promise, a prediction, and every one of them aimed right at the most base, the most primitive parts of the victim’s brain. It wasn’t just limited to visual imagery. Each layer of the flash had its own round of sensual memory, every one of them only partial but intense — touch, taste, scent, sound and vision — dozens and dozens of dreams and fantasies, each of them being their own moment of absolute ecstasy, a memory that was just as real as reality itself, all of them compressed into that one instant of dark inspiration.
And the best part? It was transmitted directly through physical contact, flesh against flesh, injected directly into her body, into her very nervous system, completely bypassing whatever defences Occlumency could conjure.
But even that didn’t explain why the real Emmeline began to bounce on my dick and end up with my cum in her pussy. The Throes of Ecstasy would only work with physical contact, and I knew absolutely nothing that could command Emmeline’s mind, and treat her body like a puppet and make it act my whims out.
Unless… that was what Lecherous Shrine was capable of?
But it’s inactive, whispered a part of me.
Didn’t stop Emmeline from accessing it.
“What are you thinking for so long?” Emmeline demanded. “What have you got to lose, Potter?”
“Potentially everything,” I told her blankly. “Being my teacher in the psychic arts means looking into my memories, yes. But you don’t just want that. You want to invade my subconscious, and know my deepest thoughts. My darkest secrets. I cannot trust all of that on something so easily twistable as a vow.”
“You think you’re the one who’s risking….” Emmeline began heatedly, but held her temper midway, taking deep breaths. “You have no idea what it took me to get that memory, Potter.”
“Oh?” I crossed my arms across my chest. “Like what?”
“Like getting fucked like a whore by your subconscious.”
“....”
She sagged. “I swear you cannot make this shit up!”
What followed was…
I wasn’t sure what to call what followed. It was like someone meshed up a Stephen King novel with extreme BDSM erotica, and threw in a pinch of absurdity for good measure. A mindscape that most definitely looked like Las Vegas as I knew it, and a large shadow demon the size of Godzilla swallowing it from above? A more laid back version of ‘Me’ that was both far more cryptic and at the same time, far more straightforward than I could ever imagine myself being, and who was very much aware of what I knew and did not know. A ‘Me’ that had used Reverse-psychology on Emmeline, and tricked her into entering the Shrine, where she had somehow merged with Narcissa’s memories of our recent fuck-session in Alfriston, which was, incidentally, what I was dreaming about prior to waking up. And somehow, Emmeline had to live through Narcissa’s experiences only to change midway into herself, and then willingly let that ‘Me’ fuck her, just so that she could get the dream memory. And then he had left her on an orgasmic high, and slapped her back to the waking world, without letting her cum.
Now I won’t pretend I’m not a lecher, but that was an arseholish move, even for subconscious Me.
Still, virtual nookie or not, I was kind of pissed that my subconscious self had enjoyed Emmeline’s booty before I could. Then I realised that it was ‘His’ actions that probably led to Emmeline’s real body bouncing on my cock until her legs were all jelly.
You know what? I forgive myself.
“Let me get this right. He slapped you awake, and now you want to follow back into my subconscious again, prying for my secrets?”
Emmeline blushed all the way down to her neck. “Well, not ‘now’ now. But soon.”
“Knowing that I — He will put you through something similar all over again?”
“Similar?” She retorted scathingly. “That You is a monster. If anything, he will humiliate me in new ways, just to get a rouse out of me. He… He will always ask me for my permission, not because he values my consent, but because I won’t have any moral ground to complain about later. He will let me walk away with what I want, not because he doesn’t want to hurt me any more, but because he wants me to willingly crawl back into that hellhole, wanting to explore more secrets. He will not hide things from me, not because he trusts me, but because he knows exactly how to string me along.”
“Impressive,” I couldn’t help but say. “You learnt all that from one single meeting?”
“That one meeting is one more than I’d have liked in my entire life,” she murmured.
“Then why go back at all?”
“Because I… Because I have to.”
“Why?”
“Wh— why?” she sputtered. “What do you mean why? You’re a melting pot of mysteries, and are the Boy-Who-Lived. Your powers are unprecedented, and if there’s something wrong or dangerous about it, I’m the best person to inspect that, ain’t I? I’ll let you know that I’m a Level-7 Legilimens and a Level-6 Occlumens.”
And yet for someone of your calibre, you’re being awfully… strange. Almost compulsive.
I wondered. If I were to hypothetically believe that the subconscious Me, who I had begun to believe was a manifestation of Lecherous Shrine — or perhaps it was the other way around? No matter, even if the Shrine had corrupted Emmeline with a variant of the Throes of Ecstasy, would she even know that she was compelled? For all I knew, she was already under my thrall and I didn’t even know it. Perhaps the Shrine had instilled certain triggers in the back of her mind, and Emmeline couldn’t tell if she was free from its influence, or if she was already trapped under its power and becoming a puppet of its will? What if it was commanding her to not notice its influence? And even if she did register, her mind would be holding two contradictory notions. The first was simple: she was a Level-6 Occlumens, and nothing could penetrate through her shields. The second too, was simple: she was being compelled by the myriad powers of Lecherous Shrine.
Two contradictory ideas could not reside together. One had to surrender. Either her rigid belief in the superiority of her mental defences, or her belief that she had been compelled and needed help.
Her pride had won out, resulting in… well, this.
“You realise you just told me that the next time you’re in there, you might have to endure a lot more humiliation?”
“I’m well aware,” she murmured. “Which is why I also need you to help me get over it.”
I tried not to gawk. I wasn’t misreading the situation, was I? This was just like being in the bath with Amelia all over again.
Emmeline blushed.
…. Bloody Hell!
“Emmeline, I’m sorry but I’m going to take the caveman approach here. Are you telling me that you want to have sex? With me? After all that my subconscious did to you?”
The blush deepened, before she composed herself. Her hands were on her hips, with that towel showcasing her long smooth legs and a tease of her incredible cleavage, she stared at me, lips tightened, eyes narrowed, glaring daggers at me as if it were all my fault.
Which in a sense… wasn’t far from the truth.
Subconscious Me was still Me, I suppose. Still, I needed to teach the lecherous bastard to keep me in the know about his plans. Or else, Real Me would become Dead Me.
“Look,” she said emphatically. “There is no need to make this complicated. I’m a sixth-level Occlumens, and there’s very little that can penetrate through my mind’s shields. I’ve resisted veela allure, undergone Imperius training, and fought through constant legilimency attacks to hone my skills. No matter what I’ve faced in the past, I’ve always been in control. But inside that Shrine, your subconscious self made me lose control. The pleasure I felt…” she blushed, “it overcame my defences and took over. And that… that scares me.”
“Ah,” I deadpanned. “And your grand plan is to feel that pleasure and lose control again. Makes sense.”
“Yes,” she stressed. “Familiarity is the cornerstone of mastery in every discipline. I’m assuming even your Incubus power is no different.”
She was wrong. Horribly so. She wasn’t facing an intrusive force like veela allure, or the Imperius. The more she had sex with me, the greater her anchorage would rise. The more she was exposed to the Devil’s Charm, the greater it would warp her mind. It was a vicious cycle and the only way out was to abstain from sex or even being in my presence. Hell, you need to avoid thinking about me, if that was an option. Emmeline needed to obliviate herself and stop all contact with me and mine, and maybe after a couple of months, when her anchorage had fallen down to zero, she’d be safe from its malicious effect.
“Emmeline… the pleasure that my power can make you feel is addictive. I’m not sure if you’ll be able to prevent yourself from falling deeper.”
“Why don’t you let me worry about that?” She all but snapped. “All I’m saying is that I’m willing to give you one shot. Surely this isn’t anything new for you, bedding women? After all, you are sleeping with Narcissa Malfoy.”
I cocked my head to one side. “Yeah, but you’re married.”
She scowled. “And that’s supposed to stop you? Why, because of your moral code?”
“No, because it’s a pain in the arse.”
“Didn’t stop you from bedding Narcissa.”
“Yes, which evidently proves my point.”
She blinked. “Does Lucius Malfoy know about —”
“Of course not.”
And hopefully will not before I end him for good.
“But that’s different. You’re a married woman, and unlike Narcissa, are not fed up with your marriage. You don’t look like someone that’d happily embrace infidelity.”
Emmeline gave me a death-glare. “I fucking hate you, Harry Potter.” She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists. “You — the Other you told me that he — that you would remind me of my marriage, when I ask you to fuck me. And you’re doing exactly that!”
I couldn’t help myself and snorted.
Her glare doubled, which only made me laugh harder.
Understandably, she was unamused. Then, her expression fell and was replaced with something like rage. “Besides, it’s not like my marriage means anything. All this time I thought Gideon was just a cold-hearted businessman, but now I know better.” She looked me in the eye. “He’s fucking Hannah, isn’t he?”
My eyes widened. “How do you— Let me guess. The Other me told you.”
She smirked. “I told you. He was quite chatty.”
“Yeah,” I grumbled. “I really need to sit him down and explain the concept of privacy.”
“So it’s true,” she said in a low voice. “My husband is a child-predator.”
“Yes.”
“And Cynthia thinks that he had something to do with the attack on Abbott Mansion.”
“...Yes.”
“Then why didn’t she tell me?” Emmeline snapped. “I’m a Ministry personnel, and a member of Dumbledore’s Order. My father-in-law and brother-in-law both served the DMLE, and were part of the Order. Surely she could have told Dumbledore about what happened?”
“Albus Dumbledore has a strange fascination with offering second chances to people that do others wrong, believing that they deserve to be saved from the Dark side. Ironically, he also has a strange way of ignoring the plights of those that fight alongside him.”
“You’re talking about Sirius Black, I presume.”
I laughed. “Sirius is just the most obvious one. Look at Hestia — thrown out of her job because of Lucius Malfoy. Look at me, Boy-Who-Lived, yet thrown to magic-hating abusive muggles during my formative years. Look at Hermione — turned werewolf because Lupin, a man he hired, was careless enough to not take his potion on a full moon night. Look at Tracey Davis and Penelope Clearwater, and all those muggleborns and halfbloods that are suffering from the tyranny and oppression of the pureblood regime. The Boy-Who-Lived won wizarding Britain a losing war, and what did the great Albus Dumbledore do? He let the losing party regain control.”
I was shouting at the end of it.
Emmeline just… watched.
“So yes, I am absolutely unsurprised that Cynthia Abbott said nothing. Maybe she already knew the result. That nothing would change.”
“And yet she told you.”
“Yes, because I promised her vengeance,” I shot back. “I cannot return Hannah’s innocence, or return the lives of her husband and father-in-law. I cannot return her those years of slaving at her eatery, or her tears at watching that deviant force himself on her daughter. But what I can do is ensure that she and Hannah will get her fortune, and the name that she deserves.”
Neither of us spoke for the next several seconds.
Finally, Emmeline let out a brief chuckle.
And then another.
And then one more.
“Are you laughing at me?” I asked, annoyed.
“No, no,” she said, chuckling some more. “I guess I’m finally seeing what Hestia saw in you. No wonder she switched teams.”
“Why, Emmeline,” I teased. “Are you offering?”
She snorted loudly. “Get yourself a side first, and then we’ll talk.”
“You’re the one saying that, really, you?” I asked, arching an eyebrow. “You, who’s seen me in secret cohorts with Narcissa Malfoy; me, who has a direct contact with Amelia Bones; me, the Boy-Who-Lived, Lord Potter and soon-to-be Lord Black if I have my way; me, who you saw perform Necromancy with my own two hands, and possessing a power that can corrupt even the strongest of minds; and me, who you saw manipulate Albus Dumbledore himself. You’re telling me that I don’t have a side?”
“Yes. I am.”
That brought me to a pause.
“Wizarding politics does not operate the way you think, Harry Potter. I understand you have a decisive, if somewhat extremist approach to things, favouring the oppressed. I understand that you have access to a very large wealth, and probably will get your hands on much more. And I know that you’ve deep pockets and connections on both sides. But don’t forget, you are still a student. You haven’t even passed your OWLs. The Boy-Who-Lived may turn heads, but unless you have sat on the Wizengamot, your words mean nothing. Yes, House Potter and House Black are nobility, but without coalitions, without alliances, without deals and compromises with other factions, you are nothing but a voice and fourteen votes on the Wizengamot. You are nothing.”
For once, I had nothing to say. I mean, I could have argued that Amelia and House Bones were on my side, but could I really expect Amelia to reject everything she believed in, and blindly follow my commands? No, it was more likely that she’d try to satiate the incubus with me with more and more sex, and perhaps help me build the alliances I need, while attempting to indoctrinate me with her own beliefs. Same with Narcissa.
So I just smiled at her. “Well, situations change.”
She smirked back. “I’m sure they do. And when they do change, we can revisit this topic. For now, are you in, or not?”
And just like that, she had swerved the conversation back to sex. I swear I’ll never understand the feminine ability to steer through multiple conversations and reach exactly where they want it.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Dead.”
“You actually want me to….”
“Take me in your bed, and show me every single thing that you do to the women you’re shagging. Give me the Narcissa Malfoy treatment. I want you to put me through everything that your subconscious can imagine. Use every trick you know, make me experience pleasure like I’ve never experienced before.”
“And you’ll try to fight it.”
“Fight it. Ignore it. Keep myself from giving in. I’m sure it’ll be difficult. Maybe I’ll even fail several times in the beginning. But mark my words, Harry Potter, I will conquer this power. I won’t rest until I do.”
“And if you don’t? I don’t want any problems later.”
Emmeline glared daggers at me. “You… you know what?” She flicked her wand, and one of the windows flew open. Another flick, and her bag came flying in. She summoned a wad of Ministry-approved contract parchments, and writing began to appear on one of them.
“I, Emmeline Vance, Lady of the Ancient House of Vance, willingly submit myself to the mercies of Harry James Potter. I voluntarily consent to any physical, emotional or carnal relationship, including sexual intercourse between myself and Harry James Potter. I swear on my magic to swear this knowledge to secrecy.”
She lifted her thumb, and performed a tiny incision on it, as two drops of crimson fell on the contract, instantly activating it. She threw the contract at my face, and I deftly caught it.
‘There! That contract absolves you of whatever happens to me. Will that suffice?”
I exhaled, inwardly wondering if this was just my good luck, or if she was just that prideful. Either way, I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“I suppose…” I began hesitantly.
“This is how we’re going to do this. We’ve already discussed how you’re going to return to your house from Hogwarts on weekends. I’ll be here to train you in the psychic arts, and you’ll help me learn to resist your allure, or whatever it is you have. And you’ll swear to keep this an absolute secret.”
I blinked.
“Potter,” she grimaced. “I’m the Head Obliviator and I’m helping you with so much. Surely asking for a little discretion isn’t too much?”
“Uh, no, that’s fine. But you realise Hestia’s already seen you jumping on my cock, and she’s going to be present during our sessions?”
“Ugh, fine!” said Emmeline. “You can tell her, but no one else. Our deal also falls under those same secrecy vows we took earlier.”
“Fine by me.”
“...Okay. I can come visit in the evenings, every Saturday, and I can spend the night here at your place. It will give you a lengthy period to help… train me?”
I smirked at her pathetic attempts to save face and grasp on to whatever shambles of control she could get her hands on. Honestly, it was hard controlling my excitement at bagging such a useful world anchor. With Emmeline’s anchorage and support, my psychic affinities and powers would shoot past the fucking roof. And once she was past the halfway mark, I could begin extracting details about her husband. And honestly! Gideon Abbott? What were the chances? At first I was confused why my subconscious had fed her the information but knowing everything, it was a perfect hit. Using her own husband’s indiscretions and criminality to weaken her own emotional walls was a masterful way of getting into her knickers.
Now I am an arsehole, and quite naturally, the urge to needle her, even at this moment of triumph was just so overwhelming. I exhaled, crossed my arms, and opened my eyes.
“Okay. See you on the weekend then.”
“...what?” she called out, confused, taking a step forward in desperation. “Are we not going to do it now?”
I gave her a look of mock surprise. “I’m just obeying the terms of our deal. We just had sex, even though you were in a trance. And you got nicely reamed and humiliated by the other me, so I guess we’re already set for now. So, I’ll see you for my first Occlumency class on the upcoming Saturday, right? I’ll keep my schedule free for the entire Saturday night for your training after that.”
“But… don’t you want to… you know, formalise our deal from today?” Her skin was practically glowing, she was so in need.
“Eh, not really. Lots to do. Catch up on sleep. Visit Amelia and give her the memory. Plan for Professor Dumbledore’s Christmas present…”
She stared at me, unamused. Her eyes narrowed as she stepped closer to me, arms crossed. She wasn’t backing down.
“Do not pretend, Harry Potter. If it wasn't obvious, let me put it in crystal clear terms. I want you to ravish me. Right now.”
I gave her a level look. “You realise it’s about to be morning in a few hours, right? Go home, Emmeline. You’ve already gone through a harrowing experience. Get some rest. Sleep on it.”
“Oh,” she said coolly, her eyes never leaving mine. “You want me to beg. Is that it?” As she asked this, she undid the towel off her head, and let her half-wet hairs fall all over her face.
It was an alluring sight.
“Listen,” she began impatiently, “this doesn’t have to be too complicated. Let’s keep this simple. You’re not my husband, or my boyfriend or even my lover. I don’t need any kind of foreplay or any other bullshit. Just give me your dick and whatever nastiness you can think of.”
Personally, I felt the lady doth protest too much. But honestly, I am an incubus and even I think that’s seriously crazy. But hey, life was seriously throwing ‘lemons’ at me. So why the hell wouldn’t I make lemonade?
“I guess I could entertain your request,” I began. “But there’s a problem. Call me old-fashioned, but I like to be wined and dined before I get fucked.” I leaned back against the wall, languidly grinning at her, unbothered by her annoyance. “Otherwise it feels like all I’m good for is my body. I mean I am an incubus and sex is my art. But to just get rutting is something dogs do, and as much as the idea of having you as my bitch is flattering… it feels more like paperwork, instead of a moment of blissful rapture.”
Emmeline stared daggers at me, tired of my bullshit. “Potter, I swear to Merlin I’m inches away from hurling curses at you. Play your twisted games with someone else. Now, will you get started or not?”
“Not a twisted game,” I told her. “In case you forgot, your friend and fellow Order member Hestia is absolutely traumatised with what happened to you. Knowing her, she probably blames herself for all this. Don’t you think that attending her first, and getting this memory to Amelia holds greater priority?”
Emmeline flinched.
“And if you can’t even keep yourself from succumbing to your desires despite knowing all this, what chance do you have of surviving my incubus powers? Maybe you’ve already lost, only your pride isn’t allowing you to accept it.”
“You take that back!”
“No,” I told her. “I don’t think I will. Talk is cheap. You claim to be a sixth-level Occlumens, then act like it. Wait till next Saturday, and we’ll see.”
The look on her face was just too beautiful to ignore.
Comments
jp9901
These mind games are getting more and more wild! And I love it!
