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A plume of dust erupted from the old trunk as Hermione pried it open. Harry instinctively drew his wand, preparing to defend his friend from the residual menacing magic of Grimmauld Place. Hermione laughed as the dust settled in her curls.
“It’s alright, Harry. It’s not a curse.”
Harry lowered his wand sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I still overreact. Some days every sound puts me right back in that tent in the Forest of Dean.”
She gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. “It’s alright. It’s been almost a year since the end of the war, and I still have nightmares.”
“Still about Malfoy Manor?”
She nodded. “Yes, but they’ve been better since moving here. I think I feel safer with you nearby.”
They sat in companionable silence for a while as they unboxed and cataloged the contents of Grimmauld Place’s attic. Hundreds of ancient tomes, questionable talismans, and boxes of crumbling scrolls passed through their hands, each one carefully entered into Hermione’s notes and given a place on a shelf or in a file.
After lifting Alphard Black’s cumbersome marble bust from an ancient chest, Harry sat down on an obliging beam to rest. He glanced around the room at the neatly organized space, impressed with the progress they’d managed to make in just a few days.
“I can’t thank you enough for helping me clean this place up.”
Hermione blew a wayward curl out of her face. “I’m happy to help. Besides, it’s the least I can do considering that you’re letting me live here.”
The fact that she had nowhere else to go remained unspoken. The specter of her obliviated parents rose between them in the quiet that followed, just two more people in the army of regrets that tormented them daily. Thoughts of his breakup with Ginny and his recent dismissal from the auror training program taunted him from the back of his mind. Harry stood from his spot, refusing to let the ghosts of the past overwhelm them when they were supposed to be thinking about the future.
“Why don’t we order curry for dinner tonight?”
“Again?” she laughed. “I’m convinced that your entire body is comprised of curry and rice.”
Harry gave a put-upon sigh. “I take offense to that remark. At least a quarter of me is made up of pizza since you introduced me to Franco Manca.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Fine. We’ll order curry. Just let me finish this box. It’s the last one.”
Harry busied himself with boxing up the last of the books to carry down to the third-floor library. Hermione was in her element, sorting through the box of parchments with the sort of bureaucratic efficiency that would have made even Percy Weasley envious.
She paused when she pulled a lone piece of paper from the stack. It stood out starkly from the parchments, as it was clear that it was stock paper designed for Muggle typewriters. Hermione’s brow furrowed as she read over the contents.
Harry glanced up from his box when he noticed the shuffling of papers had stopped. “Find something interesting?”
“Were you aware that your father and Sirius had a motorcycle accident in Brighton the summer before their last year at Hogwarts?”
Harry snorted. “No, but it doesn’t really surprise me.”
“It looks like your father sprained his ankle, and Sirius had some painful abrasions over his ribs, but they otherwise escaped unscathed.” She handed the paper to Harry. “I think you should look over the details before I file it. The medical information might be useful to you.”
Harry scanned the nurse’s notes:
Pulse: 85 bpm
Blood Pressure: 135/82 (this reading may be impacted by the patient’s emotional state; he spent the entire visit yelling at his friend for his recklessness)
Labs: Patient blood type unknown at time of exam; doctor ordered labs to determine blood type
Blood Type: O+
He stared at the page in disbelief. He knew from the rare occasion that Petunia took him to the doctor's office that his own blood was AB negative. His odious aunt had also kept his mother’s records, so he was sure that Lily Evans’ blood type was B negative.
White noise filled his ears, his vision blurring around the edges. He reached out a hand to steady himself on a nearby shelf when the room began to tilt. The paper crinkled in Harry’s hands.
James Potter was not his father.
He was silent so long that Hermione glanced up at him in concern. “Harry, is something wrong?”
He shook his head, trying his best to school his shocked expression. He didn’t want to alarm Hermione before he’d had a chance to consider the new information himself. “I’m fine.” He handed her the record. “I think I’ve seen everything that I need to.”
She sent the paper to the file for medical records. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
He dusted the front of his denims off. “Yeah. I’m just tired from all the work you’ve made me do today. Not all of us have an unhealthy obsession with organization, you know.”
She tossed a dusty cushion at him in retaliation. “It could be worse, like that week we spent with Bill breaking all the curses in the library. Just one of those ancient spells would have eaten us from the inside out.”
“Speaking of things that’ll eat us alive from the inside out, I think I’ll pop downstairs and order that spicy curry now.”
“You’d better be sure we have milk in the kitchen. You always order it too spicy and beg for relief.”
Harry waved her off as he descended the stairs. “No milk, but it’s fine. I’ll just lick a stick of butter.”
Hermione rolled her eyes, her expression revealing nothing of the concerns that niggled insistently at the back of her mind.
***************
Harry pulled the invisibility cloak closer about him, shivering in the late October cold. He thought he’d dressed appropriately for the weather, but he hadn’t exactly planned on crouching behind a hedge for three hours while he waited for James Potter to leave the cottage. There was an Order meeting tonight, and Harry knew from looking at the attendance records that his mother had stayed home.
He was finally rewarded for his patience when a bespectacled wizard emerged from the cottage, almost immediately apparating away to meet the rest of the Order at Grimmauld Place. Harry remembered a time when the sight of the man would have inspired pride and affection. Now it was just one more instance of the lies and manipulation that had followed him his entire life.
He didn’t even need to use alohomora on the door. The lock seemed to understand that he was related to Lily in much the same way that the wards had. Harry stood for a moment in the entryway, rubbing his hands together to warm them from the fall chill. He considered removing the invisibility cloak, but decided against it until he got his bearings.
His thumb brushed against the golden dial of the time turner, guilt settling low in his stomach. Hermione had been helping him clean up Grimmauld Place for weeks. It was her meticulous notes and alacrity for preserving and organizing records that allowed him to be in Godric’s Hollow tonight. He shouldn’t have stolen the time turner from her nightstand. If he’d told her the truth, she would have understood.
Hermione always understood.
He squinted in the low light, barely able to discern a modest dining table to his left. A few chairs were cloistered around a fireplace in the space directly across from the dining table. The stacks of books, abandoned quills, and the occasional lonely teacup suggested that this was where the occupants spent most of their time. Another door appeared to open on the kitchen, but Harry passed by it in favor of the stairs.
His steps felt leaden as he ascended the stairs he’d seen in Snape’s memories hundreds of times. He paused on the landing, staring down at the place where James Potter would meet his fate at the end of Voldemort’s wand in just two years’ time. Pictures of Sirius, Remus, and the members of the Order of the Phoenix lined the wall, and Harry’s breath hitched at the thought that they were alive in this time.
The temptation to sneak into the Order meeting at Grimmauld Place nearly distracted him from his goal. The wars had taken away so many of the people he loved. He desperately wanted to see his godfather and his mentors.
A whimper from the top of the stairs pulled his attention back to the task at hand. As much as he wanted to see Sirius and Remus, he needed answers more. He climbed the steps, ignoring the room that would become his nursery and quietly entering the bedroom. The curtains were only partially drawn, the moonlight affording him a view of the sleeping witch.
Her auburn hair spilled over the pillow, her expression serene as she found respite from the constant fear of discovery in her dreams. The top of her chemise peeked from under the blankets. The soft fawn-colored material was embroidered with tiny thistles.
The scene before him should have struck him as peaceful, but Harry already felt anger unfurling in his stomach. Lily Evans Potter was meant to be so clever and brave. That’s what everyone who knew her always told him, and yet she’d carried on an affair while other witches and wizards were dying in the war.
She lied to everyone. She made James Potter believe that Harry was his child.
She wasn’t clever. She was manipulative.
She wasn’t brave. She was brazen.
Harry crawled onto the bed, straddling Lily’s waist. Her eyes flew open, her instincts immediately sensing the threat. She reached for her wand, but Harry was faster, casting an incarcerous to bind her wrists together. He pulled them roughly over her head, his mouth contorting in a sneer as he applied a sticking charm to bind her wrists to the headboard.
“That’s not nearly fast enough, Lily. I thought you were supposed to be a decent dueler.”
Her green eyes searched the room frantically. She could feel the weight on her hips, but the invisibility cloak hid her attacker’s identity. “You can tell the Dark Lord that I’d rather die than join his cause.”
Harry pulled the hood of the invisibility cloak off, allowing his mother to see his face. “I’m not a Death Eater.”
Her gaze flitted to his forearm for confirmation. “If you’re not a Death Eater, then who the fuck are you? How did you get past our wards?”
“The wards allowed me through because they know I’m yours.”
“I’ve never seen you before in my life.”
His head tilted to the side. “Don’t I look familiar?”
Her brow furrowed in confusion. “You bear a passing resemblance to James, but not–”
“But not my eyes?” he finished for her.
She nodded, giving him an assessing gaze that made him shiver. He pulled the time turner chain out from under his shirt, allowing her to see the pendant. She sucked in a sharp breath. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that object you’re holding is? Dreadful–”
“Yes, yes, I know. Dumbledore lectured me more than once about the dreadful things that can happen to wizards who meddle with time.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You know the Headmaster. Who are you?”
His hand flew to her throat, fingers squeezing the pale flesh. Lily struggled against her restraints, her lips moving in ineffectual attempts at wandless spells. She tossed her head in an effort to dislodge the cruel fingers that dug into her skin.
“You said that I look similar to James, but James Potter isn’t my father, is he…Mum?”
Lily’s eyes widened in horror. She shook her head violently, her mind unwilling to accept the revelation. Her thighs shifted under the blanket beneath him as she tried to kick her legs, but Harry’s weight kept them pinned.
“You’re a liar!” she spat, pulling so hard on the fabric binding her that she couldn’t feel her wrists.”
His hand shifted up to grip the bottom of her jaw. “You have the audacity to call me a liar? I’ve been lied to my entire life. Your dear sister didn’t even tell me that I was a wizard. Dumbledore never told me that he was only keeping me alive so that I could die at the right moment. I’m tired of not knowing the truth, so tell me, Mum, why did you stay home while your friends are at Grimmauld Place?”
“I felt ill,” she choked out. “James said I should stay behind and rest.”
His forearm flexed as he squeezed her jaw painfully. “I don’t believe you. Who are you meeting?”
“No one. We’ve been in hiding for weeks. Only my friends can get through the wards here.”
Harry stared down at her, his thoughts taking a direction he never would have considered when he first arrived. “Is it my godfather? Are you having an affair with Sirius?”
“Are you out of your mind? I would never betray James.”
“Then it must be Remus. You spent more time in school with him than you ever did with James.”
“Remus and I studied together. He’s a dear friend, but nothing more.”
Harry’s blood ran cold, his grip on her jaw loosening as a sudden thought occurred to him. “Is it Snape?” he whispered.
“What?” she asked in shock.
“Is Snape my father?” he yelled, his temper flaring as she fought him at every turn.
“I haven’t spoken to Sev in over a year!” she shot back, her fear falling away in the face of his anger.
His hand slipped back down to her throat, squeezing harder this time. “I don’t have time for this. Who have you been fucking?!”
When she was tugging on her bindings hard enough to leave bruises in her struggle for air, he finally relaxed his grip, whispering a hasty “legilimens” as he did. It was a trick he’d learned all on his own. He may have been an abysmal occlumency student under Snape’s tutelage, but he had some natural talent for legilimency.
He’d discovered that if he briefly deprived the person he was interrogating of oxygen, it was far easier to enter their minds. He could take advantage of the temporary chaos to pinpoint the thoughts and memories that he needed.
He first learned of its efficacy when he suspected that Ginny was cheating on him with Dean Thomas. He learned that his fears were unfounded when he’d impulsively squeezed her throat and entered her mind while he was buried deep inside her. The new skill had cost him the relationship, and later his career, but he considered it worth the sacrifice given how many of the Death Eaters he got to witness receive the Dementor’s kiss before the DMLE declared his methods unethical.
As expected, Lily’s thoughts were in complete disarray. He searched her memories, examining her recent interactions with every man of her acquaintance. It was clear that as the war progressed, she rarely left the cottage except for Order meetings and missions.
Her primary role within the Order was gathering intelligence. She worked alone or with one or two other Order members for most missions to avoid detection or capture. Her most frequent partner for missions was Alice Longbottom. He couldn’t help but be impressed with their work. The hours of reconnaissance and research his mother put into spying on Voldemort’s newly recruited Death Eaters were an invaluable source of information for the Order.
He redoubled his efforts when he felt Lily attempting to cast him out of her mind. Panic constricted his chest as he rifled through her memories. His mother was telling the truth. The only person she’d ever had in her bed was James Potter.
He withdrew from her mind abruptly, leaving them both reeling with nausea. Lily recovered first. “What is the matter with you? Even if I believed that you’re from the future and not some overzealous Death Eater who enjoys torturing women, I’d still know that you aren’t my son. No child of mine would be such a sadistic bastard.”
She cleared her throat, her whole body pulling against her restraints as she spat in his face. Harry barely felt the spittle sliding down his cheek. He could only stare at her blankly as he considered his position. The window for his conception was rapidly closing, but Lily didn’t have any partners other than James.
When he finally recovered from his daze, he cast a hasty spell, confirming that she wasn’t already pregnant. Bile crawled up his throat at the idea forming in the back of his mind. The weight of the world once again settled on his shoulders, a burden to bear alone.
As he often did when he was anxious, he fell back on the lessons that his mentor had taught him. In spite of his anger and resentment for Albus Dumbledore, Harry couldn’t deny that the man’s wisdom frequently guided his actions, even after the war. Happiness could indeed be found in the darkest of places, or as Harry had come to think of it, even the darkest of deeds was justifiable provided that it served a good purpose.
He ignored Lily’s angry features, focusing on where his hand still lightly gripped her neck. His fingers danced over her pulse point, the tip of his index finger dipping into the hollow of her throat. Her constant struggling had shifted the duvet down to her waist, and his gaze drifted down to where her chest rose and fell.
He reached out tentatively, his fingers slowly molding themselves to the gentle rise of her breasts. Lily flinched, but he ignored her response, enjoying the heft and softness of them in his palms. He stared in fascination at the two peaks teasing him under the thin chemise.
She raised her head, her voice dripping with disdain. “Get your hands off of me! Don’t you dare touch me!”
Harry finally snapped, flicking his fingers to silence the angry witch with a wandless spell. “You’re going to stop your constant nagging and listen to me, Mum. The Order will fight Voldemort, but even after they believe he’s gone, he’ll return years later stronger than ever. I’m the one who finally defeats him.”
He squeezed her breasts harder, delighted at how her nipples beckoned him through the light linen of the chemise. “We have to make sure that I’m born, Mum. We have to. Otherwise Voldemort will win, and everyone we love will die.”
Lily was shaking her head vehemently, but his spell still silenced her desperate pleas. Harry gripped the top of her chemise, ripping the delicate fabric down the middle with a harsh tug. The moonlight poured over her exposed breasts, and if he’d had any doubts about his decision, they instantly disappeared.
His hands were on her again, kneading her pliant breasts eagerly. He was transfixed by how different they were from his previous experience. Ginny’s areolas were larger and brown, and she hadn’t particularly enjoyed it when he touched them. Lily’s were small and coral colored, so delicate that he could almost believe they’d never been touched. Lily closed her eyes, not wanting to witness what he was doing to her.
He dipped his head, flicking his tongue over the tip of her nipple. When her areola wrinkled obediently, he turned his attention to its twin, delivering a languorous lick that easily coaxed the flesh into a tight peak. He continued his eager kneading, taking a moment to appreciate her glistening nipples.
“Look at them, Mum,” he demanded.
When she shook her head, he squeezed her breasts painfully. “I said look at them!”
Lily’s eyes fluttered open, tears streamed down her face as she saw how her body was responding to the attention.
He looked at her in wonder. “Just think, Mum. You’ll be feeding me from these in nine months.”
He ignored her horrified expression, giving her a wry grin. “I suppose there’s no harm in having a taste now, is there?”
His gaze turned feral as he descended on her breasts. He wrapped his lips around a nipple, suckling on the wrinkled peak hungrily. She tried to wriggle away from him, but the act only succeeded in pushing her nipple farther into his mouth.
He moaned around her nipple, mistaking her writhing for encouragement. “I’ve broken so many rules of time today, but I would break time itself if it meant that I could milk you dry while you carry me in your womb.”
He sucked her other nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around her areola. He ground against her as he feasted on her breasts, and she could feel the growing length of him through the blankets. She breathed a sigh of relief when he finally released her with a lewd pop, but any hope that he was going to let her go disappeared when he merely switched back to her other breast. Every time she thought he was finished, he continued the torture, licking, sucking, pinching, and plucking until her nipples were taut and sore.
When he was finally satisfied, he crawled off of her, throwing back the blankets to reveal her bare legs. Lily immediately began to kick, her legs flailing wildly as she tried to keep him from touching her. Harry shook his head in frustration. “I thought we were past this, Mum. I thought we were on the same page, but apparently I was mistaken.”
He crawled on top of her again, making no effort to be gentle this time. He gripped her tattered chemise, tearing away long strips of the material. He whispered another incarcerous, sending the material slithering around her ankles and pulling her legs up and apart until they were tied to the top posts of her four-posted bed.
Harry knelt before her, smirking smugly as he leered at her spread-eagled form. “You look so lovely all trussed up, Mum. I need to make sure that I can see you properly.”
He noticed several candles around the room, lighting them with a flick of his fingers. She whimpered, pulling against the cloth binding her ankles. He looked down at her in mock sympathy. “I know this position has to be uncomfortable. I promise I’ll release your legs later, but right now I need to get you ready. I’ve seen your memories, Mum. I’ve seen the cock you’re used to having, and if I don’t take the time to prepare you, I could split you in half.”
He ran a finger over the gusset of her red lace knickers before dismissing them with a wave of his hand. A smile stole over his face as his fingertips slipped between her labia. “You’re drenched, Mum. Do you get this wet for James, or is it just for me?”
He lowered himself to his elbows, stroking her mons in fascination. Ginny had always shaved, but Harry found himself quite taken with the auburn curls at the apex of Lily’s thighs. He gently pushed her lips up, exposing the firm bud of her clit.
“So pretty,” he murmured, swiping his thumb over the throbbing bud.
Lily’s eyes flew wide, her legs twitching at the sensation. Harry chuckled, understanding her reaction without legilimency.
“I’m disappointed in you, Mum. You married a man who won’t even condescend to pleasure his wife? I don’t care how many galleons he has in his Gringott’s vault, if he doesn’t know that this little pearl,” he flicked her clit for emphasis, “is his most valuable asset, then he’s not worth your time.”
Lily glared down at him reproachfully, her face blotchy and tear-stained. Harry smiled up at her indulgently. “Don’t worry. I’ve always imagined myself as the sort of son who would want to spoil his mother.”
His tongue darted out to taste her, giving her a few teasing licks. Her body jolted with each touch. She tried to tilt her hips to get away from his questing mouth, but only succeeded in making his tongue slide from her clit through her folds.
Harry moaned, lifting his head to let her see his glistening chin. “I think I’ve just found the one thing tastier than your tits.”
He inhaled deeply as he snuffled her curls on the way to her dripping cunt. His chin bobbed wildly as he worked, the feeling of her firm clit dragging across his tongue over and over again driving him into a frenzy. When she tried to squirm away from him, he wrapped his hands around the backs of her thighs, pulling her against his face so hard that the strips of cloth holding her legs dug harshly into her ankles.
He wrapped his lips around the overwrought bundle of nerves, suckling with the same single-minded focus that he’d shown her nipples. Lily desperately tried to hide her response, tried to hold her body still, but the arch of her back and trembling of her thighs in the wake of her pleasure gave her away.
Harry crawled off of her with a smug grin, kicking off his boots and shedding his jacket. She kept her eyes closed as he stripped off his t-shirt and denims, as though she could delay the inevitable if she couldn’t see it.
The mattress dipped as he crawled back on the bed. “Open your eyes, Mum.”
She shook her head, closing her eyes tighter. He wrapped her auburn hair around his fist, wrenching her head back hard. “I said open your eyes!”
She finally looked at him, a quick glance showing her that he’d stripped down to his pants. He kept one hand in her hair, the other slowly pushing down the waistband of his pants. She watched in horror as his cock sprang free, the taut skin of the glans grazing her stomach as it bobbed before her.
Harry wrapped his hand around his veiny girth, stroking the shaft languidly. “Look at it, Mum. Do you like what you made?”
He released his grip on her hair, his fingers digging into her hip as he lined himself up. “Don’t be afraid. I was made to be inside you.”
He groaned as he pushed forward, the slick heat of her cunt welcoming him home. He ignored her silent sobs, focusing on how her constant struggling only served to impale her on his cock. A shuddering breath wracked his body when he bottomed out inside her. He was grateful he’d had some practice with Ginny before their relationship ended, otherwise he would have spilled immediately.
He balanced his weight on his left arm, reaching up to grab the headboard for leverage. A whispered spell released the restraints on Lily’s legs. She tried to kick but couldn’t muster more than a feeble twitch. Her legs were still numb from being bound and stretched for so long.
He slowly withdrew, relishing the clinging drag of her cunt before he thrust back in with a lewd squelch. He quickly found a rhythm that suited him, leaning his weight against her so that he could feel her pebbled nipples dragging over his chest. There was no pretense of gentleness as he rutted into her, lost to his own pleasure.
Despite her best effort to dissociate, her body responded to his rough thrusts, pulsing and squeezing his cock enthusiastically. He felt her mouth moving against his neck, and as the telltale sign of his release began, he released the silencing spell. He wanted to hear her come, even if she sobbed as she did.
“Why?” she whimpered, her voice nearly gone from screaming. “Why…are…you doing this…to me?” Her thoughts were disjunctive, interrupted by the punched out little whines she made as he pistoned into her.
“I’ve been the lonely orphan son, the hope of an entire world,” he panted. “I’ve been a ghost caught between worlds when Voldemort cast his killing curse, and now,” he pressed a sloppy kiss to her forehead, “it’s time for me to be the father!”
He groaned loudly as he came, flooding her cunt with his cum. His fingers found the steep peak of her nipple, plucking in the way he knew she liked. She shifted to avoid the touch, but he was persistent, flicking the sensitive tip with the pad of his thumb.
“No! No! Nonononono!!!” she protested as her back arched and she clenched around him.
“That’s it, Mum,” he moaned encouragingly. “Milk my cock.”
He moved above her again, rocking into her until her cunt went still around him. When he finally withdrew from her, he glanced at the Muggle watch that Hermione had given him for his birthday. The Order meeting would likely be ending soon.
He climbed off the bed, releasing Lily’s hands from the headboard. They fell limply to her sides, her chest rising and falling in quiet sobs. He pulled on his clothing, anxious to leave before James arrived.
“Listen to me, Mum. You have to keep the baby. You have to keep me. If you don’t, Voldemort will win, and everyone you care about will die. Do you understand?”
She gave no answer, but managed a feeble nod as she rubbed her wrists to restore circulation.
He donned the invisibility cloak, giving her one last look over his shoulder. He smiled at the sight of the bruises blooming over the delicate column of her throat, her swollen, abused nipples, the viscous cum slowly dripping from her cunt. Disappointment settled in at being denied another round, but he knew he had to return to his own time.
He slowly descended the stairs, slipping out of the front door and departing as quietly as he’d come.
***************
Harry appeared in Hermione’s bedroom just a few minutes after his departure. Hermione's eyes opened, sensing his presence.
“Harry?”
He pulled the hood of his cloak down. “Yeah. It’s me, Hermione.”
She turned on the lantern next to her bed. He placed the time turner back on her bedside table, prepared to face her anger, or still worse, a lecture on the dangers of time travel. To his surprise, the scolding never came. “Did you find out who your father is?”
Harry stared at her in shock. Even though she’d helped him research his mother and the Marauders, he’d never once told her that he was trying to find his father.
He nodded. “I did.”
“I’m glad. I was concerned how you would respond when you realized that James wasn’t your dad.”
He felt a surge of fondness for his friend. His clever girl. Of course she figured out what he was up to.
Such cleverness deserved to be rewarded, to be protected. Better yet, it deserved to be part of his own family, part of the future of the wizarding world. Visions of curly-haired children running through the halls of Grimmauld Place filled his mind. He’d spent so much time tending to the past. It was time he turned his attention to the future.
He reached out gently, earning a trusting smile when he cradled her cheek. Her smile faltered when he trailed a finger down her throat and over her clavicle, plucking open the top button of her pajamas.
“Harry?” she whispered, a hint of panic in her voice.
He could tell by the way the tears streamed down her face, the way her teeth bit into the hand he held over her mouth, the way her cunt resisted his invading cock that Hermione didn’t see his vision yet. He would explain. He would make her understand.
Hermione always understood.
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