Harry Potter and the Second Prophecy

Chapter 17 - Confrontations

"You WHAT?" shrieked Camilia, still collecting her outerwear.

"Invited," repeated Malfoy.

"God damn it, Malfoy," spluttered Harry, his chest heaving from the exertion of running almost the entire length of the castle, "you leave her alone!" yelled Harry, ignoring their exchange.

Malfoy smiled. "I expected something like that from you, Potter; a pathetic and rather cliché demand, don't you think?"

"Leave me...? Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?" Camilia begged as she haphazardly replaced her clothing.

"He..." Harry began, but had to pause, gasping for breath. "He said...said he was going to kill you - "

"You're such an idiot, Potter. Did you really think - " Malfoy interrupted, but was interrupted in turn by Camilia.

"What are you talking about, Harry?" she demanded.

Harry was still trying to catch his breath. "Said...he'd kill you if I didn't...if I didn't come here!" The strength was returning to his body as he attempted to reveal to her the reason for his appearance.

Camilia stared blankly at Harry. "What?" she asked, the confusion in her voice equally as readable on her face. Malfoy continued leaning against the fireplace, but neither of his companions noticed his right hand snake inside his robes to grab hold of his wand.

"It's true, my dear," admitted Malfoy, and both Harry and Camilia watched as, with a flick of his wand, Malfoy slammed and locked the door behind Harry. "I told him we would be here, and that if he did not arrive at the appointed hour, I would be forced to kill you."

"What?" she asked again, the full meaning of his words not sinking in.

"And your poor, sweet lover-boy here actually believed it." Malfoy turned to Harry. "You know full well she's worth more to the Dark Lord alive, Potter. How could you honestly think I'd kill her?" he challenged.

"I'd put nothing past you, Malfoy," said Harry, spitting out his name as though it caused a nasty taste in his mouth.

Malfoy chuckled. "So your lover-boy came to save you, Cami," drawled Malfoy. Camilia cringed at his use of his pet name for her. "How sweet. Expelliarmus!" he yelled, and the wand he had watch Harry reach for came flying from his pants and landed gracefully in Malfoy's outstretched hand, and then began to laugh quietly to himself. "Unfortunately, though, Potter, you chose not to follow my directions. I said no one and nothing. I see you saw fit to bring your wand, and though I won't kill your good-for-nothing whore because I need her, I fear it will be necessary to punish you, at the very least." He looked at Camilia, who appeared to be in shock, and sniggered. "Sorry about this, love," he said to her, smiling, and the smile on his face transformed immediately into a wicked grimace. "Crucio!" he yelled, and an arc of light sprang from the end of his wand and connected with its target, hitting Camilia square in the chest.

Had Malfoy not explained to the Room of Requirement that he would require a sound-proofed room, Camilia's tortured scream could have been heard by the Giant Squid gliding through the lake. Instead, it reverberated off the stone walls in the Room, temporarily deafening both Malfoy and Harry. Malfoy instinctively raised his hands to his ears to drown out the noise, and the spell was instantly broken.

Camilia lay, half-naked and shaking, on the blood-red coverlet. Harry had not felt so horrified or so helpless since he had lost his godfather the year before. He made to lunge at Malfoy, who turned his wand on Harry. "Though I am forced to keep this traitorous slut alive, I have not been required to do so with you, Potter. I suggest you take a few steps back."

Harry, thinking better of attacking Malfoy, turned his attention instead to Camilia, hoping that, by refusing to focus on Malfoy, the blonde boy would in turn open up about his reasons for inviting both himself and Camilia to the Room of Requirement. He wrenched a blanket from a nearby armchair and wrapped it around Camilia, hoping both to comfort and to cover her. "Are you all right?" he asked, looking deeply into her eyes in an attempt to assess what damage Malfoy's unforgivable curse might have done.

"No," was her simple reply, and she was staring directly at Malfoy, her eyes full of hatred and loathing. She took a deep breath then, steeling herself for an attack, but the instant she raised her hands to send a surge of magic at him, Malfoy yelled "Dextella Ruptum!" and Camilia instead clasped her hands together, curled them under her bust, and leaned forward as though in great pain.

"What did you do?" Harry's tone left no mistake for Malfoy that he insisted on an answer.

"Have her show you," came Malfoy's reply. "And let's see her try to demonstrate her mystical powers now. Care to throw me against a wall, dear?" he mocked. "Or perhaps set me on fire?"

Harry ignored his taunts. "Camilia," Harry entreated her, "Let me see."

Tears streaming down her face, Camilia brought her hands up in front of her. She was obviously in agony. She very slowly unclasped her palms, but left her fingers overlapping so her hands were cupping the blood that had pooled in between them. Her palms were charred, her right one still smoking slightly, and both were a mess of blood and burnt, mangled flesh. "Oh, God," she squeaked, her face crumpling, and she squeezed her hands together once more, putting pressure as best she could on her wounds. The blood that had pooled in her hands was seeping down her arms and dripping from her elbows onto the matching coverlet beneath her. She raised her eyes to Malfoy's. "You're a monster," she hissed at him.

"A dragon, actually," he replied, chuckling at his own joke. "But I suppose monster will suffice, so long as you don't object to harlot, tramp, Jezebel, and any other choice words I choose to describe you."

"I object," stated Harry, climbing down off the bed.

"Yes, well, you would, wouldn't you," sighed Malfoy, seemingly unimpressed. "So, what are you going to do, Potter? Cuff your sleeves and come at me in my own girlfriend's defense?" Malfoy chuckled again. "Perhaps you should see to her, first. You see, I'm rather enjoying having my way with her. You've already had yours, of course, and now she's all mine. Spiritus Angustia!"

Camilia instantly clutched her throat, straining desperately for air. It seemed to Harry that she could breathe out, but she was unable to draw a breath. She turned to face him, coughing, more and more of the air in her lungs leaving each time she did. Harry felt paralyzed.

Draco laughed menacingly. "Feel a bit like you're drowning, do you?" She turned toward him. "Harry can't help you, you know. Your life is mine." He left her flail helplessly a moment longer, and then broke his spell. The air flooded Camilia's lungs all at once, and she lay gasping on the bed, having nearly blacked out. Harry took a step toward her, but as he began to move, Malfoy reached for a heavy iron fireplace poker. Wielding it like a club, he beat it lightly against his other palm, daring Harry to come closer to him. "You know, Potter," he said, his eyes murderous, "I really should use magic to bring about your end, like the Dark Lord did with your fool parents, but it'll be so much more fun to beat you senseless instead."

Malfoy took a step toward Harry, praying that he'd badgered him enough, willing him to reach for the candlestick on the table beside him. He smiled as he watched Harry turn to his right and left to find something he could use to defend himself. Camilia watched the whole thing; she saw Malfoy's breath quicken, saw him smile as Harry's frantic gaze focused on the candlestick near him, and she tried to warn him, but it was too late. "Harry, don't - !"

He had grabbed the candlestick, holding it like a sword, when it began to glow an eerie purple. Harry found that he couldn't release it, no matter how hard he tried. Suddenly, a giant pulse of purple light was emitted from the candlestick, engulfing Harry, and he crumpled silently to the floor, lying in a heap, the candlestick now just a candlestick, on its side a few feet away.

She leapt from the bed, sickened by the blood her hands left on his clothes and face as she tried to rouse him. "Harry, no, Harry, please, get up get up get up, come on, Harry, snap out of it, get up, please, get up, Harry, come on. You're all right, you're fine, wake up, Harry. Please, Harry, get up. Harry? Harry! HARRY, GET UP!" she screamed as she shook him. He didn't move.

She cradled his head in her lap and leaned over him, trying to feel his breath on her face, and was repulsed by the smear of blood she left on his neck as she tried to sense a pulse. He was breathing, she discovered, but his pulse was very, very faint, and his breathing was weak and labored. "Harry?" she asked tentatively. "Can you hear me?"

A new voice entered her ears; it was like silk against her skin, and it froze her in place. "He can hear you, but he won't respond," it said to her. She closed her eyes. She knew that voice.

"Oh, God," she said, under her breath, closing her eyes tight.

"I do like that title," replied the voice. Malfoy chuckled.

While she still had her senses, she leaned low over Harry and whispered into his ear, "I love you, Harry Potter." Then she turned to look into the face of the man from whom the voice flowed. "You're older than I imagined you'd be," she stated, all her muscles tense, waiting for whatever he might attempt.

"Twenty-two, to be precise. I believe Dumbledore showed you what I was at sixteen. I could not have sealed up my sixteen year-old soul more than once; he should have known. I waited six long years to do it again. And it seems to have been worthwhile," he said, turning to Malfoy. "You have done well, Draco. Your parents will be proud."

"Thank you, my Lord," replied Malfoy, bowing, not daring to look his Master in the eyes.

Camilia, however, was not impressed. "What have you done to him?" she asked as forcefully as she could with quivering knees, indicating Harry on the floor at her feet.

"My young nemesis has allowed me to be here. Fitting, don't you think, that he who forced me to return this way is now forced to restore my body? As he grows weaker, I become strong. Soon," said Tom, he'll be dead, and I will rejoin myself with my...older self, to become stronger than either of us could dream alone. And you, my beautiful, alluring child, will give us a son."

In desperation, Camilia lunged for the door, grabbed its handle, and pulled so hard on it that she reopened the wound in her hands. She tried once to use her hands to blast open the door, but injured as she was, nothing happened. She began to beat upon the door, screaming for help, pleading that someone would come to her aid, when she felt an ice cold hand on her shoulder. She jerked away from it and spun against the door, and then Camilia found herself inches away from the face of Satan himself; Tom Riddle leaned forward and kissed her deeply.

She tried to push him away but her hands could find no purchase, almost as though he was a ghost. She could feel clothing, skin, but it seemed to disappear as she would reach to grasp it. The touch of his lips on hers were like frost on a flower; she felt softness, but then it was gone, and all the while her lips felt like they were pressed against a sheet of ice.

When he released her, she put up her hands to push him away, and found that they connected with fabric. She could hold him at bay. She turned to Harry, terrified that Riddle had become more tangible, wondering what the consequences would be for Harry, and it seemed his breath had slowed and become even shallower.

"Camilia, please. Do not concern yourself with such things. We have other things to think about," he said, lifting her chin so that she would look at him. "Things involving us."

She wrenched her eyes from his face...his handsome, striking face... with those beautiful green eyes...and her eyes met his once more. She drew in a breath, and what she had intended to come out with conviction, was instead a half-hearted "There is no 'us'."

"There we go," said Riddle, never taking his eyes from hers. "Just keep looking at me, Camilia. Just keep looking at me."

Her jaw went slack. She felt woozy, and had to blink repeatedly just to keep her focus. "Harry..." she murmured, squeezing her eyes shut, turning her head toward him on the floor, but Riddle only lifted her chin back to its original position.

"He's nothing, Camilia. He's pathetic...lying on the floor, powerless to help you, powerless in all respects. You could have so much more. I know you yearn for it," he said.

She moaned softly in reply, forcing her eyes closed again, but unable to fight the desire to gaze again into his beautiful green eyes. "Stop," she mumbled, not sure whether or not she really meant it.

"You look fragile, Camilia," he began, and she noticed that each time he said her name, her chest heaved exquisitely. "Come, sit down." He led her to the bed, his hand cool, but no longer icy, his grasp firm and suddenly solid. Had she not had to pass him, she feared she'd have forgotten Harry completely, but as she neared the bed, she glanced down at him and twisted her hand from Riddle's.

Camilia dropped to her knees beside Harry, pleading with him to awake and arise once more. Riddle turned instead to Malfoy. "I tire of this," he said. "Fix it."

"As you wish, my Lord," Malfoy said, bowing, and then directed his wand at Camilia. "Imperio!" he cried, and her head fell backward. Her chest began to heave again with large, full breaths, and it was obvious to both Riddle and his minion that she was doing her best to fight his curse. As she sat on the floor alongside Harry's limp form battling Malfoy's spell, Riddle solicited if Malfoy an accounting of Camilia's activities while at school. "My Lord," he started, "if you are inquiring as to her abilities, she is incredibly strong and can perform great magic, though seldom can she perform even the simplest spells. If you wish to inquire after her doings amongst the students, she has a small group of friends in Gryffindor - those shared by Harry Potter - and none else. If, my Lord, you wish to know of her sexual activities, and I humbly apologize if this does not fit with your request, but she has been bedded by Potter and only been moderately intimate with me, myself - in striving to convince her of my affection, of course, so I could bring her to you," he added hastily. "Should you desire further information, I am at your service, my Lord."

"That was what I wished to know, Draco. How very interesting that she has shared a bed with Mr. Potter. A remarkable twist," Riddle mused. "I should think - "

Camilia yelled, shaking her head, and brought her hands to her face. "Not - going - to - " she was saying, and she reached to take one of Harry's hands in her own.

"ENOUGH!" roared Riddle, and he leaned over her and tore her away from Harry. He then grabbed her by her shoulders and shook her as he spoke. "I know what you want, Camilia, and I am the only person who can offer it!" With all the strength his still-incomplete form could produce, he threw her backward onto the bed, turned to Malfoy and nodded, and with a simple "Catena Appareo!" Malfoy conjured a set of shackles which sprang from the four posters of the bed, grappling for her wrists and ankles. Camilia was secretly glad for the distraction from Riddle, whose gaze and appearance she found extremely enticing. The shackles now seeking her limbs were a welcome respite from the temptation of his eyes...those mind-numbingly erotic pools of emerald green...and she found herself chained to the bed, spread-eagle. "You know I'm right, Camilia. You wanted my sixteen year-old self, but you find me at twenty-two ever so much more desirable. I'm older, wiser, more confident, more experienced, and more powerful," he declared, raising one brow.

"Please, Tom," she begged, "I can't. I can't."

"That's the wrong answer," he proclaimed. "You can, and you will, because you want to. More than you've ever wanted anything in your life, you want to yield to me. You want me to take you, you want to bear me a son, you want to stand beside me and rule with me as Lord over all the Earth. I can see it in your lust-filled eyes. That glazed expression on your face is undeniable; you long for me, and only me. All you have to do is give in, Camilia. Give in, and you can have it all. You can do what you wish, whenever you wish it. You'll never again have to hide or restrain your power. You can have anything... everything you want, and I'll make certain of it, only do this one thing for me: give in. Let me pleasure you. Let me use you and make you mine, and I will give you everything you ever ask for."

Camilia's mind was reeling. "Harry..." she said in his direction.

"I'll help you forget all about him, if that's what you want," promised Riddle.

"Harry," she said again, beginning to return to herself.

"He's none of your concern!" stormed Riddle, and then he calmed down. "He's nearly gone, and as I have told you, Camilia, he can offer you none of what I have to give you. Look at me when I'm speaking to you!" he bellowed, and she turned back to him, fear coursing through her body.

Riddle smiled a smile so insincere that Camilia was immediately brought back to reality. "HARRY!" she screamed, struggling against the shackles that bound her. "FIGHT!"

Riddle motioned to Malfoy, and he pointed his wand again at Camilia. "Accio pants!" he yelled, followed by "Accio shirt!" and then "Accio brassiere!" and finally, "Accio panties!" Had Camilia not found herself suddenly in a position where rape was a logical conclusion, she'd have found such things comical, but as she now faced an adversary so beyond her she still could not comprehend it, she saw no humor in Malfoy's spells. Instead she lay naked and helpless on the bed, chained and vulnerable. The unspeakable severity of her situation weighing on her, she wept openly.

"There is no need to cry, my dear," said Riddle cynically. "You are more beautiful than I ever imagined." He turned to Malfoy. "How you could have kept from taking her, I'll never understand." Riddle turned again to Camilia. "Forget about all that's troubling you. Surrender yourself to me, Camilia." Her breath caught again. "Yield up your body. Submit yourself to my whims, and I'll give you everything - "

"Will you let Harry go?" she asked through her tears.

"Were I to do so, I would cease to exist in this form; however I can banish your memory of him. You'll never think of this again."

"Is he in pain?" she asked, swallowing hard.

"He feels nothing," he assured her, his voice smooth as satin. "But let's not think on it, Camilia." She refused to watch as Riddle began removing his shirt, which fell noiselessly to the floor, almost a completely solid article. "We both know what it is you want, Camilia, and there is no reason in this world not to give in to it." She could not help but watch as he slid the belt from his waist and let it drop to the floor as well, but refused to look into his eyes. "I have more to offer you than you can possibly fathom," he continued, removing his pants. "Far, far more, and more pleasure than you can possibly conceive of. It can be yours, Camilia; I'll share it with you." He crept onto the bed, allowing his hands to brush her legs as he moved. She turned her head toward Malfoy and stared at him, willing herself to be swallowed up in her hatred of him, but as Riddle's hands moved up her hips, and then to her breasts, she gave in to the desire to look at him once more.

Immediately she was lost in his eyes. Knowing he possessed great power over her, he kept his eyes locked on hers, and leaned in to kiss her. She felt, in that kiss, almost as though she were willing her soul into his. Kissing Harry had been the ultimate expression of love and passion to her; kissing Tom Riddle was the ultimate expression of desire and abandonment. In that moment, she lost the battle to Riddle. With that kiss, he knew she had become his. She had given in. When Riddle finally took his lips from hers, he spoke to Malfoy, but continued to stare into her eyes. "Draco, we'll not be needing these chains any longer."

"Catena Dere!" ordered Malfoy, and the chains vanished from around her wrists and ankles.

"Oh, and Draco," said Riddle when he was finally confident that Camilia had given in to him, "feel free to watch if you like."

"Thank you, my Lord," replied Malfoy humbly, and as Riddle began to explore Camilia's body, he moved an armchair from across the room to a position overlooking the bed so he could enjoy the invitation to observe.

Camilia knew she was relinquishing her body to the most wicked of men, knew she was giving Harry over to a cold and lonely death, and knew that the two men she counted most cruel and vile in the world were molesting her body and sadistically watching it happen, but Riddle was so enticing...so alluring...so tantalizing, that she found herself utterly seduced. She had been wholly taken in by his words, his voice, his body, his scent, his taste, and most of all, his eyes. And she let it happen. His power was her ambrosia, and she was unable to fend off the wanton drunkenness that had overtaken her senses.

She felt him part her legs, watched him position himself, and noticed vaguely that his flesh was beginning to warm, which thought left her mind the moment it had entered. She felt him enter her, and as he did, a pleasure she had never known ripped through her body; she felt the rush of illicit sex and a dirty, perverse pleasure knowing that Malfoy was watching Riddle enjoy something he himself would never know...the warmth of her interior. She was giddy, matching him thrust for thrust, returning his battering of her body, and the satisfaction that seized her body as they enjoyed one another was blissful. She felt further gratification as she examined Malfoy's face; his eyes were riveted to their conjoined pelvises, an empty yet searing look in his eye. She gazed again into Riddle's eyes, voicing the ecstasy that had encompassed her body through passion-riddled moans. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to enjoy his thrusts, and all at once she felt she was floating far above, lost in space, and then she was coming down, but things were not as she had expected when she opened her eyes. Rather than lying on a blood-red velvet coverlet in the transformed Room of Requirement being willingly ravished by a young Voldemort, she was standing in a misty wood in the dead of night, naked, freezing, and face to face with Charity Danforth Pritchard.