AN/ Hello my old friends (ducks quickly behind a wall as a barrage of sharp pointy objects come flying at her) Okay, okay, I deserved that, my only excuse was that I am terribly lazy and foolish. After the release of the fifth book I became so disheartened with writing this story that I just gave up on updating it. Although I didn't enjoy the fifth book as much as the others I do respect the points that it had to get across. So I was left wondering how to edit the story to fit around Harry's fifth year and the fifth book while still telling the story I had envisioned. Well newsflash! Not possible! So after much deliberation I have decided to rewrite the whole story and set it in Harry's sixth year (let's just hope I finish it before the new book comes out)

To my faithful readers of the previous Sirens Son, never fear the story won't go too far away from the original. I will be keeping the parts that did not involve Harry's age or year, which is a lot, but I will be editing and rewriting the chapters so don't expect to read the same story as last time, especially since I have taken down the old Sirens Son. I have learned a lot about writing since I first wrote Sirens Son, I will be posting shorter chapters and my paragraphs won't be so long (that was really hard on the eyes wasn't it?) The shorter chapters will also enable me to post more frequently, so hooray for shorter chapters!

Now, onto the newest instalment of Sirens Son, edited and rewritten solely for your pleasure. Read, Review and Enjoy!

Chapter 1

It was night, a dark cloudless night that left the stars to shine brightly down upon the world from a backdrop of velvety black sky. The air was hot and humid, so humid it was almost wet making the grass dewy and slick. The weather, though slightly uncomfortable, was a welcome change from last years dry, unforgiving summer weather. The heat and humidity weighed down on everything and everyone lulling them into deep happy slumbers, everyone except one boy.

Fifteen-year-old Harry Potter tossed and turned in his sleep, tangling Aunt Petunias perfectly pressed white sheets around his ankles. Just like he always did when he slept.

But unlike most nights it wasn't horrific memories or terrifying dreams not even hellish visions too hard to block out that kept him tossing and turning. Tonight Harry's subconscious mind pulled him down into a world made only for pleasure.

The deep throated aching moans and groans that the Dursley's had come to ignore were not of pain or sorrow tonight but of unfulfilled desire and wants. Harry thrashed around some more but then a pair of elegant hands pulled him down into a deep and highly pleasurable dream world.

A soft pink/orange glow permeated the room, or wherever it was that Harry was. He was kneeling on something soft and comforting, a bed? Looking down Harry was shocked to see that not only was he kneeling on nothing but air, he also appeared to be wearing nothing but air as well.

Strange, he clearly recalled pulling on a pair of light cotton pyjamas, despite the balmy weather, before going to bed. Harry scratched his head in confusion with one hand while he groped around in the air for his glasses with the other, while also rubbing his flat stomach.

Wait, something wasn't right here, he was scratching his head, groping around for his glasses and rubbing his stomach? He seemed to be doing too many things with too few hands.

As he searched for an answer to this confusing dilemma another hand began rubbing his left shoulder, a distinctly feminine hand. Another hand joined the other two this time on his right hip, another followed the third this time on his left thigh, and then another and another and another and another. Soon there were so many hands roving over Harry's body barely an inch of his own skin could be seen.

Totally taken aback by this strange occurrence Harry was at a complete loss at what to do. He supposed he should just allow the hands and whomever they belonged to continue, no harm in that and who was he too stop them really.

Harry relaxed and melted into his unseen captors capable hands allowing them to continue their leisurely stroking in hopes that they might show themselves. One by one they did just that, appearing gradually as though they came through a dense fog their faces came first followed by the rest of their bodies. Naturally they were all women, he hadn't really expected otherwise, and natural was probably the best way to describe these women and yet there was something particularly unnatural about them, something he couldn't quite grasp in this dream state.

There seemed to be a great diversity among them, they were of all ages, races, sizes and colouring, and yet alike by way of their natural beauty that needed no make-up or elaborate hairstyles or fancy clothes. They were a refreshing change from the kind of women Harry was used to seeing in the muggle world. But it wasn't their natural beauty that set them apart from most women; it was something entirely foreign almost exotic one might say and again Harry couldn't quite put his finger on what exactly that might be.

Harry also took quick notice of the fact that the women were just as naked as he was. And although this wasn't a sight out of place in his dreams, he was a teenage boy after all; the sight of these particular women affected him more so than the others. In his dream and in reality he became uncomfortably aroused, clammy, and short of breath.

The women smiled at him in a very strange way as though they sensed this, though it wasn't too hard to sense all one had to do was look down and they would know exactly how Harry was feeling, and seemed to take great pleasure in his current state. As one the women pressed in on Harry and began to rub him with their bodies as much as their hands.

They rubbed and rubbed and then rubbed some more, with each pass of their hands, legs, hair, arms, faces, lips and everything else in between Harry became more aroused he felt almost dizzy with it. The soft caresses soon turned forceful and uncomfortable, they raked their nails down his arms and torso and legs, they bit his neck and pulled his hair.

The mysterious women pressed in closer, so close that Harry could feel their hot panting breaths all over him while the sound of their heartbeats pounded in his ears. The room grew dark and took on a feral set of colours, acidic greens, dark purples and electric blue. The colours swirled around him and pulsated to the loud beating of his heart, which now kept course with the women's.

Harry clenched his teeth and fought the desire to cry out and push the women and their painful seduction from him. The paths they made with their sharp nails and teeth burned into his flesh, his head throbbed from their rough pulling of his hair and his body was slick with sweat and tense with unreleased desire.

But he did not cry out or push them away he let them continue, continue to drag him down into the depths of their world made electric blue, acidic greens and dark purples, of musky air, pounding drums and heated breath, of sharp nails and teeth, a world of blissful pain.