![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hpraremod posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
hp_rarefestTitle: Bodice-Ripping Heroes (and Other Daydreams of Romilda Vane)
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
katmarajade
Prompt: Romilda bought those daydream charms from Weasley Wizard Wheezes and dreams of Dashing heroic Harry Potter, with a hippogriff tattoo on his chest, rescuing her from various perilous scenarios. (or her doing the rescuing, which leads to sexy times) Or being rescued by Harry and other handsome wizards. Bykate34books
Pairing(s): Romilda/Harry, Romilda/Harry/Cormac
Word Count: 1470
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): ridiculous, made-up, healing sex magic
Disclaimer:Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Romilda loses herself in a daydream charm featuring a heroic Harry Potter, but she finds herself rudely awakened.
"Oh, Harry," Romilda moaned, letting her eyes flutter open. In front of her stood Harry Potter—the real Harry Potter—in wrinkled Auror robes. He and Ron Weasley were staring at her with a mix of irritation and concern.
She quickly shoved the Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes box into her desk drawer and scrambled to find the proper file.
"Here is the paperwork you requested, gentlemen," she said briskly.
"Erm, thanks. Are you all right?"
"Yes, of course!" she responded breezily. "Don't be silly."
Ron shrugged and the two Aurors walked towards the door. Out of the corner of her horrified eye, Romilda swore she saw Harry look back and wink.
***
"Miss! Miss! Wake up!" A voice floated through her head, and Romilda opened her eyes. Hovering above her, green eyes full of concern, was Harry Potter. He was dressed in a snug green outfit that highlighted his slender toned figure and wore a snappy hat. A quiver of arrows was slung across his back.
"Good sir!" she gasped.
"You can call me Harry," he said. "Quickly, we must make haste. They're coming. You're in terrible danger!"
She grabbed his hand and let herself be pulled to her feet, almost tripping over her voluminous skirts. Harry's grip on her hand tightened, and he looked at her, fear and worry swimming in that emerald gaze.
"They're coming—I can sense them. I must get you to safety!"
They dashed through the forest, dodging trees and rocks. Twice, Harry lifted her in his arms and carried her over a rotting tree and a small brook. When they reached the edge of the wood, a sharp whistle brought a great black stallion to their side.
"Quickly," Harry urged, muscles rippling under his shirt as he lifted her up onto the horse's back. He leapt onto his mount alongside her, waited only a moment for her to wrap her arms around his chiselled chest, and they galloped away.
Shouts came while they raced through the field, and Romilda saw a veritable army behind them, trying to catch up. Clinging even harder, desperately holding onto her rescuer, she let out a quiet whimper of fright.
"We're almost to the portal—hold on!" Harry called, his voice nearly lost in the wind as they flew across the earth.
A magical web of iridescent purple hung amidst a canopy of trees on the other side of the field. If they could only break through, they'd be safe. The portal couldn't be opened again for at least two days.
Just as they reached their goal, Romilda cried out in agony. Harry reached back, holding her close, and they disappeared.
Moments later, they were in a quiet meadow. The sun warmed the air and birds chirped merrily, unaware of any danger. Harry pulled his steed to a halt and whisked Romilda to the ground, where he scanned her body frantically. She groaned and moved her hand to expose a broken arrow lodged in her side.
"No!" Harry exclaimed. "Hold on, I've got you." She struggled to keep her eyes open. He spoke a word and the pain dulled slightly, enough at least for her to focus.
"I must see the extent of your wound, my lady. Forgive me." With that, Harry gave the pale green bodice of her dress a mighty pull, ripping it completely in half, leaving her bare chest exposed.
She gasped in shock but allowed him the liberty. She knew she could trust him—he could never hurt her, this hero. He probed the area gently, his warm nimble fingers brushing her soft skin.
"I can remove the arrow, but the wound is severe. It will take powerful magic to heal you, my lady—magic not, perhaps, fitting for a noblewoman such as yourself.
"I trust you," she said, clinging to his hand. "Save me, Harry. Please, save me!"
Her pleas destroyed his hesitation. Making quick work of the arrow, he pushed a small phial of shimmering pink potion to her lips. She drank and felt the pain vanish.
"The pain is gone," she marvelled, but he shook his head.
"It buys you time, only. The only way to heal a wound of this severity is with this potion here," he held up a second phial, this one a swirling aquamarine, "but it can be deadly if not completely fulfilled."
Without waiting for him to explain, Romilda grabbed the potion and drank.
"How does it work?"
Harry explained to her the relation of pain and pleasure, how with the potion now coursing through her body, she could be healed if only the balance could be tipped. If her pleasure could outweigh her pain, which was severe and only masked by the potions, not lessened.
"I will try, my lady. Try to save you with the greatest pleasure. I will not cease until you are well," he vowed.
Her breathy moan of consent spurred him to action. His mouth descended on her breasts, licking and teasing and tonguing a sweet tattoo of sensation. Her ruined dress was torn further and his hand ventured low, tracing her hips, caressing the creases of her thighs and touching her so perfectly. His mouth never faltered, maintaining a slow, sweet rhythm against her heaving bosom, while his fingers grew bolder, more insistent with every sweep against her most sensitive spots.
Waves of pleasure cascaded through her, making her feel as if she were flying. A tight, prickling heat spread across her skin and her entire world converged into one perfect point, her body convulsing in pure pleasure.
"It's not enough," she heard him mutter, and before she'd even finished coming back down to earth, his beautiful mouth and talented tongue were wrested from her chest. She mourned the loss of them but only briefly, as he surged against her once more, burying his face between her glistening thighs. The sensations were so incredible that all she could do was cling to his hair, lost in ecstasy, and soon she was peaking again, gasping at the feeling.
"Still not enough," Harry said, but Romilda was too far gone to recognise the seriousness of his statement.
"So good, Harry," she murmured. "More!"
He sat up, wiping his face on his sleeve, and whistled determinedly. The sound of horse hooves rattled the earth and in only moments a large white horse appeared. Astride the horse was a tall man, impossibly well built. His muscles bulged obscenely as he swayed with the rhythm of the slowing horse. He dismounted in one smooth motion and looked to Harry, who explained the situation to him. Turning back to Romilda, Harry promised her that Cormac was the greatest kisser in the entire realm and was here to save her. Before she could say a word, this new man, Cormac, bent over her and kissed her passionately, while his warm hands cupped her breasts.
Harry returned to her centre, teasing her again, bringing her back to readiness.
Cormac's kisses grew deeper, his mouth devouring her own. Then, as if on cue, Cormac's tongue plundered her mouth, diving deep at the same moment Harry pushed inside her, his ample length filling her to absolute completion.
She'd never even seen him shed his trousers, she thought before the dual sensations overwhelmed her. Cormac's skilled mouth warred with her tongue and his fingers twisted her nipples. Meanwhile, Harry inside of her was everything she could have dreamed. The feeling was all-consuming, pulsing through her entire being as he pounded into her, creating the most exquisite friction.
Finally, when she thought she could go no higher, when her body thrummed with anticipation, when she was almost sobbing in need, she came, convulsing around Harry, who shuddered within her, stilling and collapsing to one side of her, still fully enveloped by her quivering sex.
Cormac's kisses grew breathy and gentle, letting her gasp, and he traced the lines of her face and shoulders, the gentle sweeps of his fingers a contrast to his large, callused hands.
Still reeling from the most powerful orgasm of her life, she felt another, different power surge through her. As she glanced down, her entire body glowed with a hazy blue light. It lasted only a moment before the magic faded into her skin, but she somehow knew that she was no longer in danger.
"It worked!" Harry exclaimed, confirming her thoughts. "Thank Merlin, you are saved!"
"All thanks to you—and Cormac, here," she said, eyes shining with impressed affection.
"We would have done anything to keep you safe," Harry said vehemently and she beamed at them.
"Oh, Harry …" she moaned, but before she could turn to Cormac to offer her praises for his skill and assistance, the vision vanished and she found herself rudely displaced, staring into the faces of Ron Weasley and …
Oh, fuck.
Author/Artist:
katmarajade Prompt: Romilda bought those daydream charms from Weasley Wizard Wheezes and dreams of Dashing heroic Harry Potter, with a hippogriff tattoo on his chest, rescuing her from various perilous scenarios. (or her doing the rescuing, which leads to sexy times) Or being rescued by Harry and other handsome wizards. By
kate34booksPairing(s): Romilda/Harry, Romilda/Harry/Cormac
Word Count: 1470
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): ridiculous, made-up, healing sex magic
Disclaimer:Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Romilda loses herself in a daydream charm featuring a heroic Harry Potter, but she finds herself rudely awakened.
"Oh, Harry," Romilda moaned, letting her eyes flutter open. In front of her stood Harry Potter—the real Harry Potter—in wrinkled Auror robes. He and Ron Weasley were staring at her with a mix of irritation and concern.
She quickly shoved the Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes box into her desk drawer and scrambled to find the proper file.
"Here is the paperwork you requested, gentlemen," she said briskly.
"Erm, thanks. Are you all right?"
"Yes, of course!" she responded breezily. "Don't be silly."
Ron shrugged and the two Aurors walked towards the door. Out of the corner of her horrified eye, Romilda swore she saw Harry look back and wink.
"Miss! Miss! Wake up!" A voice floated through her head, and Romilda opened her eyes. Hovering above her, green eyes full of concern, was Harry Potter. He was dressed in a snug green outfit that highlighted his slender toned figure and wore a snappy hat. A quiver of arrows was slung across his back.
"Good sir!" she gasped.
"You can call me Harry," he said. "Quickly, we must make haste. They're coming. You're in terrible danger!"
She grabbed his hand and let herself be pulled to her feet, almost tripping over her voluminous skirts. Harry's grip on her hand tightened, and he looked at her, fear and worry swimming in that emerald gaze.
"They're coming—I can sense them. I must get you to safety!"
They dashed through the forest, dodging trees and rocks. Twice, Harry lifted her in his arms and carried her over a rotting tree and a small brook. When they reached the edge of the wood, a sharp whistle brought a great black stallion to their side.
"Quickly," Harry urged, muscles rippling under his shirt as he lifted her up onto the horse's back. He leapt onto his mount alongside her, waited only a moment for her to wrap her arms around his chiselled chest, and they galloped away.
Shouts came while they raced through the field, and Romilda saw a veritable army behind them, trying to catch up. Clinging even harder, desperately holding onto her rescuer, she let out a quiet whimper of fright.
"We're almost to the portal—hold on!" Harry called, his voice nearly lost in the wind as they flew across the earth.
A magical web of iridescent purple hung amidst a canopy of trees on the other side of the field. If they could only break through, they'd be safe. The portal couldn't be opened again for at least two days.
Just as they reached their goal, Romilda cried out in agony. Harry reached back, holding her close, and they disappeared.
Moments later, they were in a quiet meadow. The sun warmed the air and birds chirped merrily, unaware of any danger. Harry pulled his steed to a halt and whisked Romilda to the ground, where he scanned her body frantically. She groaned and moved her hand to expose a broken arrow lodged in her side.
"No!" Harry exclaimed. "Hold on, I've got you." She struggled to keep her eyes open. He spoke a word and the pain dulled slightly, enough at least for her to focus.
"I must see the extent of your wound, my lady. Forgive me." With that, Harry gave the pale green bodice of her dress a mighty pull, ripping it completely in half, leaving her bare chest exposed.
She gasped in shock but allowed him the liberty. She knew she could trust him—he could never hurt her, this hero. He probed the area gently, his warm nimble fingers brushing her soft skin.
"I can remove the arrow, but the wound is severe. It will take powerful magic to heal you, my lady—magic not, perhaps, fitting for a noblewoman such as yourself.
"I trust you," she said, clinging to his hand. "Save me, Harry. Please, save me!"
Her pleas destroyed his hesitation. Making quick work of the arrow, he pushed a small phial of shimmering pink potion to her lips. She drank and felt the pain vanish.
"The pain is gone," she marvelled, but he shook his head.
"It buys you time, only. The only way to heal a wound of this severity is with this potion here," he held up a second phial, this one a swirling aquamarine, "but it can be deadly if not completely fulfilled."
Without waiting for him to explain, Romilda grabbed the potion and drank.
"How does it work?"
Harry explained to her the relation of pain and pleasure, how with the potion now coursing through her body, she could be healed if only the balance could be tipped. If her pleasure could outweigh her pain, which was severe and only masked by the potions, not lessened.
"I will try, my lady. Try to save you with the greatest pleasure. I will not cease until you are well," he vowed.
Her breathy moan of consent spurred him to action. His mouth descended on her breasts, licking and teasing and tonguing a sweet tattoo of sensation. Her ruined dress was torn further and his hand ventured low, tracing her hips, caressing the creases of her thighs and touching her so perfectly. His mouth never faltered, maintaining a slow, sweet rhythm against her heaving bosom, while his fingers grew bolder, more insistent with every sweep against her most sensitive spots.
Waves of pleasure cascaded through her, making her feel as if she were flying. A tight, prickling heat spread across her skin and her entire world converged into one perfect point, her body convulsing in pure pleasure.
"It's not enough," she heard him mutter, and before she'd even finished coming back down to earth, his beautiful mouth and talented tongue were wrested from her chest. She mourned the loss of them but only briefly, as he surged against her once more, burying his face between her glistening thighs. The sensations were so incredible that all she could do was cling to his hair, lost in ecstasy, and soon she was peaking again, gasping at the feeling.
"Still not enough," Harry said, but Romilda was too far gone to recognise the seriousness of his statement.
"So good, Harry," she murmured. "More!"
He sat up, wiping his face on his sleeve, and whistled determinedly. The sound of horse hooves rattled the earth and in only moments a large white horse appeared. Astride the horse was a tall man, impossibly well built. His muscles bulged obscenely as he swayed with the rhythm of the slowing horse. He dismounted in one smooth motion and looked to Harry, who explained the situation to him. Turning back to Romilda, Harry promised her that Cormac was the greatest kisser in the entire realm and was here to save her. Before she could say a word, this new man, Cormac, bent over her and kissed her passionately, while his warm hands cupped her breasts.
Harry returned to her centre, teasing her again, bringing her back to readiness.
Cormac's kisses grew deeper, his mouth devouring her own. Then, as if on cue, Cormac's tongue plundered her mouth, diving deep at the same moment Harry pushed inside her, his ample length filling her to absolute completion.
She'd never even seen him shed his trousers, she thought before the dual sensations overwhelmed her. Cormac's skilled mouth warred with her tongue and his fingers twisted her nipples. Meanwhile, Harry inside of her was everything she could have dreamed. The feeling was all-consuming, pulsing through her entire being as he pounded into her, creating the most exquisite friction.
Finally, when she thought she could go no higher, when her body thrummed with anticipation, when she was almost sobbing in need, she came, convulsing around Harry, who shuddered within her, stilling and collapsing to one side of her, still fully enveloped by her quivering sex.
Cormac's kisses grew breathy and gentle, letting her gasp, and he traced the lines of her face and shoulders, the gentle sweeps of his fingers a contrast to his large, callused hands.
Still reeling from the most powerful orgasm of her life, she felt another, different power surge through her. As she glanced down, her entire body glowed with a hazy blue light. It lasted only a moment before the magic faded into her skin, but she somehow knew that she was no longer in danger.
"It worked!" Harry exclaimed, confirming her thoughts. "Thank Merlin, you are saved!"
"All thanks to you—and Cormac, here," she said, eyes shining with impressed affection.
"We would have done anything to keep you safe," Harry said vehemently and she beamed at them.
"Oh, Harry …" she moaned, but before she could turn to Cormac to offer her praises for his skill and assistance, the vision vanished and she found herself rudely displaced, staring into the faces of Ron Weasley and …
Oh, fuck.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2014-06-17 09:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-06-21 06:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-06-23 09:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-06-27 01:42 am (UTC)OMG soooooo much Romilda stuff!
Date: 2014-06-27 07:21 pm (UTC)