This little one-shot came to me in the middle of computer class. It's kind of AU. It's seventh year, Dumbledore hasn't died, and Harry's beaten Voldemort. Those details aren't really important, but I just wanted to clear it up. This one contains scenes of sexual assault, but it has a happy ending, so don't worry. Please read, and if you like, check out my lengthy fic, Chamber of Secrets: With a Twist. It has a little of everything: romance, action, and even a little drama. Give it a read.

But, enough of my shameless self-promotion. Read on!


To say Terry boot was fucked would be the understatement of all Hogwarts history. He was a dead man walking (or running at present moment), a virtual Inferius, if you will. He had done the unthinkable, crossed an almost tangible line, committed the ultimate taboo.

He had tried to force himself upon Hermione Granger.

But let's back up a bit to a week previous of this unfortunate moment in Terry's life, and find out where it all began.

It was a fine Saturday afternoon in May of 1997. Terry had had his eye on Hermione Granger for about a month now. He had noticed that she wasn't the bucktoothed know-it-all around fifth year, during the D.A. meetings, but had only recently realized that she was, well, hot. A month ago, he had walked in on her in the Prefects' bathroom. She hadn't noticed him, but he had certainly noticed the curvy, voluptuous figure that her school robes had been hiding. He had to have her.

So, a month later, he hatched a daring plan, the best his clever, Ravenclaw mind could come up with, to ask her out.

"Hey, Hermione, wanna go to Hogsmeade next weekend?"

"Sure, Terry."

Mission accomplished. Whew! He had thought all that careful planning would be for naught. Well, Phase One was a success. He had her for one night. Now, he had to make that night "memorable". He had to get to know that form of hers more intimately than anyone else. He wondered briefly if she was a virgin. She probably was, knowing how uptight she was.

The next week dragged by for Terry. He couldn't stop thinking about what it would be like to know Hermione Granger like that. Sometimes, she caught him staring in Ancient Runes, but he just smiled and looked back down at his notes. Finally, the night of their date arrived. Terry wore what he liked to call "casual dressy". Beige khaki pants and a hunter-green sweater. Good enough for dinner, but not too dressy to be uncomfortable. He down to the Entrance Hall and saw that Hermione was standing there, her hair tied back in a braided ponytail, wearing the most seductive black dress he had ever seen. It came down to about the middle of her lower leg and showed quite a bit of her back. She was practically asking for it; Terry was going to give it to her, all right.

Dinner had been rather enjoyable. Hermione yammered on about this and that while Terry pretended to listen, sneaking glances at her visible cleavage. Hermione was too engrossed in what she was talking about to notice. They were served and they ate in companionable silence (Terry resisting the urge to strip her down and shag her right there) and then were served dessert. The dessert wasn't nearly as sweet as he figured a certain someone else would be, but, again, he quelled his urges. Best not get arrested for public nudity. They took a carriage back to the castle and Terry led her up to Gryffindor Tower. They stopped outside the portrait hole and Hermione turned to Terry, smiling somewhat nervously. His own heart was hammering. Now was the moment of truth.

"I had fun tonight, Terry," she said. "Thanks for being such a gentleman."

"Of course, Hermione," Terry said, smiling. He leaned in to Hermione's face and put a hand on her shoulder….

His lips contacted her cheek. He had been given the cheek! Of all the nerve!

"I…I can't do this, Terry," Hermione said, taking a step back. "I…tonight I realized that I love someone else. I guess I always have."

"What?" Terry asked angrily. She was turning him down? After he endured a whole night of her talking endlessly. No way. He would have her, whether she wanted it or not.

"Well, I'd better go; it's getting late," Hermione said fearfully, turning around. The Fat Lady's portrait was empty.

"Why not stay a while?" Terry said, spinning Hermione around and pulling her to his body, planting a firm kiss on her lips. Hermione squirmed and tried to push away, but Terry had a very firm grip. He pulled her down the corridor, his lips still over hers, and forced her into a vacated classroom, finally breaking the kiss. Hermione pulled out her wand.

"Expelliarmus!" Terry said, and Hermione's wand flew out of her hand. "I suggest you stop resisting. It'll make things a lot easier for both of us."

"You'll be expelled!" Hermione said, backing against the wall. "You know I won't keep quiet about this!"

"One Memory Charm'll take care of that," Terry said. "You won't remember any of this. That's the beauty of it; I had this all planned."

He walked forward, forcing her further against the wall, and ripped the spaghetti straps of her dress, pulling it down to reveal two perfect breasts hidden beneath a flimsy, lacey, strapless bra. He dispensed of that quickly, first drinking in the sight of her chest, and then began ravaging her left nipple with his mouth, alternately sucking and biting on it. She tasted like heaven, Terry thought to himself. Hermione whimpered and tried fruitlessly to break Terry's grip.

"Terry," she gasped. "Please, just stop this."

Terry's only response was to grip her right nipple between his thumb and forefinger and twist gently. Hermione arched her back and whimpered again.

"You know you love it," Terry said, pulling the dress the rest of the way down, revealing a skimpy black thong.

"Stop it!" she screamed. "Someone help me! HARRY!"

"Harry's not here, Hermione," Terry said, placing his hands on her hips, looping his thumbs into the strap of her thong. "It's just you and me—"

"And me," a new voice said, and a strong, Quidditch – honed hand clapped down on Terry's shoulder, nearly squeezing his arm off. He was wheeled around to see the very angry face of Harry Potter, looking at Terry as he had only looked at one man before, and that man was dead now. In the background stood Ginny Weasley, Prefect badge gleaming on her chest. They must have been patrolling.

"Words cannot describe just how enraged I am now," Harry said, then produced his wand. "So I'll let him do the talking."

….

That's what led Terry to his current situation. He was now sprinting full speed down a corridor at midnight, occasionally dodging a hex fired at him.

"You can't run forever, Boot!" Harry's voice said as Terry turned another corner. Harry had a valid point. They had been running for well over an hour, and, while Terry fancied himself a bit of an athlete, he was nowhere near big, muscled, Quidditch Captain Harry. Terry looked behind him to see Harry running, the look of determination on his face that he often bore when chasing the Snitch. He turned back around just in time to see that he was about to run into something. He bounced off of two very solid people and fell backwards to the ground. He was jerked to his feet by two sets of hands and forced against the wall.

"We got him, Harry!" Neville Longbottom's voice called. Damn him and his newfound muscles. The other boy was Justin Finch-Fletchley, of Hufflepuff. Another Herbology study session no doubt (A/N: Just an innocent study session. Neville isn't gay, and nor is Justin).

Harry came running up. He didn't even look out of breath. "Awesome. Twenty points to Hufflepuff, and to Gryffindor. You guys can go now. Thanks."

"No problem," Justin said, releasing Terry's left arm. He and Neville walked away, discussing breeding a mimbulus mimbletonia with a Venomous Tentacula. Harry held his wand to Terry's throat.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't bring my kill count to two right now," he said, his voice positively dripping with unfiltered anger. Terry was terrified.

"It…I…I'm—"

"Not good enough!" Harry said, whipping his wand up.

……

Harry walked into the Gryffindor common room at half past one in the morning, feeling very satisfied with himself.

"Hey, Harry," a small voice said. Harry turned to the fireplace to see Hermione sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, wearing a pink sleeping gown.

"Hermione?" Harry asked. "I told Ginny to make sure you were in bed before I went looking for Terry."

"And I told her I wanted to stay up and wait for you to get back," Hermione said, not looking in Harry's eyes. "I wanted to thank you. Terry would have…and I'm still a…." She couldn't bear to finish the sentence and she began to tear up. Harry walked over to her and sat next to her, pulling her into a hug.

"Shh, it's okay, Hermione," he said, holding her tight. Hermione clung on to him for dear life, shaking slightly. "I would never have let him do that to you. And I don't think he'll be trying again; I made sure of that."

Hermione let out a watery giggle and looked up at Harry, her beautiful brown eyes shining. Unconsciously, Harry leaned in. Hermione leaned up and met him halfway. Their lips connected in a soft, searching kiss, testing the waters. Hermione's lips were salty with dried tears, but Harry didn't care. They parted, Harry looking at her nervously. Hermione was smiling up at him, tears running down her cheeks again.

"Tears of joy?" he asked nervously.

"Definitely," Hermione said, engulfing him in a hug. "So, how long have you…?"

"A week ago, when Terry asked you out," Harry said, saying Terry's name not unlike how he said Voldemort's. "What about you?"

"Tonight, actually," Hermione said. "I was going to tell you when I came back. You're the only man for me, Harry. I…love you."

Harry's heart swelled at these words. He beamed and kissed Hermione again, this one much more passionate. They fell onto the couch, Harry on top of Hermione, and he crushed her lips with his and brushed her mouth with his tongue. She eagerly parted her lips, and Harry plundered her mouth with his tongue, the moaning and whimpering sounds she made driving him mad. Soon, air became precious and they had to part, Hermione looking nervously up at him.

"Harry," she gasped, looking more shaggable than ever, "I…I know where this is leading, but…not tonight…not after what I've been through. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Harry said, slightly disappointed nonetheless, he cupped her cheek, wiping her tears away with his thumb. "Wait as long as you want. When you're ready, that's when it'll happen, okay?" He sat up and helped her up as well. They cuddled on the couch, Hermione nestled contentedly in the crook of Harry's arm. After a while, she spoke up.

"You did at least let Terry live, right?" she asked, looking up at him and smiling ruefully. Harry reciprocated the smile, which turned to a contended smile, as though he were reliving a happy childhood memory.

"Well, I think he managed to ooze his way back to the Ravenclaw common room," he said, a laugh in his voice. "Whether or not he could say the password without a visible mouth, we may never know."

Hermione giggled and nestled back into Harry's arm, pulling her legs up beneath her, the blanket wrapped around her. Harry tightened his grip, intent on keeping her as safe as possible. He leaned down next to Hermione's ear and whispered:

"Oh, and Hermione. I love you too."

A smile curled Hermione's lips. She lay there the whole night, nestled into Harry's arms.

…..

Ron Weasley walked downstairs the next day, intent on getting some breakfast before his walk with Luna. He had heard there had been some kind of commotion last night, but was too sleepy to inquire then. Neville had been involved; Ron'd ask him. He saw someone stir on the couch by the fire and looked over. Harry was sleeping with Hermione nestled in his arm, wrapped tight in a blanket. Ron shook his head and chuckled.

"Mental, the both of them," he said, walking through the portrait hole. Later that day, Terry Boot would have to incur his wrath, as well the wrath of half the school as word spread that he had tried to have his way with the Boy Who Conquered's girl.


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