Your Love is My Drug

Harry awoke, feeling like hell. Simultaneously, he felt a rising awareness coming from Ginny. Together, they groaned.

We might have gotten a bit carried away. Ginny admitted.

Despite himself, Harry laughed. Yeah, a bit.

Last night had been a haze of magic and lust, and Harry hadn't really come to grips with what it meant to have Ginny Weasley in his mind. The possibility had been daunting, even a little terrifying, just a few days ago. Already though, Harry was realizing that this didn't have to be bad. That this could be very, very good.

Ginny had already had the ability to make him feel better with just a few words. A joke. A funny story. Or just her presence. But now it was so much more. It was like before, he'd only been seeing her wit, mischievousness, and affection from afar, but now he was experiencing it, immersed in it.

This is wonderful. Ginny thought. And Harry was now witness to her train of thought, just as she'd been to his. While Harry had been nervous about the prospect of sharing thoughts, feelings, and sensations with her, she'd been anticipating it. Sure, there were some things that might be embarrassing for him to know, but if they were that close, he'd be able to understand exactly why she had felt that way, or acted that way. What she'd been afraid of was that it wouldn't work, that she wouldn't be enough to bond to him.

But it had! She could feel him, all of him. If he was ever hurt, he could never again be an idiot like last year and try to hide it, she'd know. She would be there for him whenever he needed it, and he for her. They were inseparable, bound permanently in a way no two people had been before.

Oh, Harry. She sighed, basking in his affection for her. For both of them, their pain was forgotten, if for the moment. Harry's love for her was overwhelming, in the best possible way. Quietly, she'd worried that Harry wouldn't feel quite as strongly for her as she did for him- Ginny could scarcely grasp how deep her own feeling for him ran, after all. But her concerns were unfounded. If anything, the pure love shining in Harry's heart was even stronger than hers.

Ginny wanted to weep. How was it possible for someone to feel so much? She found herself wanting to reciprocate, wanting to give Harry the same devotion he was giving her. You feel that Harry? She asked, summoning a tide of adoration, affection, and more- all for him. That's how I feel for you.

Harry was crying. It was almost too much. How could someone feel that much, for him? He wasn't- he didn't deserve-

Don't even finish that thought, luv. Ginny interrupted. Where do you even get that from?

On cue, Harry's mind summoned the voice of his Uncle Vernon, telling him on his sixth birthday words that he'd never forget No one could ever love you, you little freak.

Ginny's joy was shattered, replaced abruptly by raging fury and gnawing terror. She didn't even need to voice her thoughts for Harry to get the message.

Harry hung his head in shame, there was no way to hide it from her. The cupboard. It was not a mistake, it had my cupboard on it! The bullying. Days, being fed nothing but scraps, but still being forced to cook breakfast, clean the house, and weed. The complete isolation, having no one, no friends, not one sympathetic person in his life. Completely alone. Worthless.

That voice of doubt, taking the form of his Uncle's voice, haunted him to this day. You don't deserve these people, you don't deserve any of this. Your friends would be better off you if just d-

The voice cut off suddenly, sounding as if his Uncle had been choked. Ginny's arm was outstretched and her hand was clenched as if she was physically choking Vernon Dursley, but it seemed to just be the physical manifestation of whatever she was mentally doing. Harry was bowled over by the protective rage emanating from her and he was shocked as several violent fantasies of dishing vengeance on his relatives flashed through her mind.

Harry tensed in fear. Ginny, I'm not sure that's a good idea. It felt like she was trying to rip out part of his mind, but wasn't that dangerous? What if he ended up like Lockhart or Neville's parents?

Ginny's anger collapsed, turning to sadness. She sobbed audibly. Oh, Harry.

She'd known it had been bad with the Durselys, but she never realized just how bad. It was different, seeing everything how he saw it. She realized, this was the real reason that he'd been nervous about the bonding, he'd been afraid she might discover this. He'd been afraid that she would be disgusted with him for it. Despite them being within each other's minds, Ginny wished she could go to him and hug him. I love you Harry, so very much.

The voice piped up again- You don't deserve to be loved like this. But Ginny silenced it again, this time with a tidal wave of her affection. She poured her heart out to him. Letting him know that if anything, she thought more of him now. Knowing that he had lived his whole life without love and but was still so caring, loyal, loving, and wonderful.

I will always love you, and I'll always be there to remind you of it.

Harry wept.

-----

The pair eventually discovered the pepper up and restorative potions left on their bedside tables, along with- Harry breathed a sigh of relief- essence of murtlap. Hermione is wonderful.

After the potions and generous rubbing of the murtlap essence onto certain places, the discomfort had become tolerable. There was still aches and soreness, but more along the lines of what you'd expect from a particularly grueling quidditch practice than having sex for hours straight.

It was worth it though. Ginny thought. Also, apparently we don't have a filter inside of our heads, so get ready Harry.

Harry had to agree though. It had been worth it. Really worth it. That moment of bonding had been transcendental. And what had happened after that…

It's probably not a good idea to think about this if we ever want to go downstairs. Harry chastised himself, even as he felt his cock stir. It was so difficult to keep his mind from going down that path, especially with Ginny's mind and body right there. Awareness of her body came to him instantly. Her breasts, her hardening nipples, her cunt- which was… swelling not unlike his cock was.

Okay Gin, we really need to stop this. Harry groaned, but neither of them made an effort to. In fact, Ginny was again marveling at his hardening cock.

Mmmmh, luv. Your cock feels incredible. So hard, and swollen, and sensitive. Oh, why don't you stroke it?

Harry could feel her insatiable lust rising. It was a bad idea. They could end up there all day and end up hurting themselves again. But…

Ginny had gone ahead without him, her fingers were rubbing at her nipples, and her- Jesus! Here she was talking about how sensitive his cock was but her clit! Her clit!

Fuck. It was like stroking the head of his cock, except somehow concentrated into one bead of pleasure. His cock jumped to full hardness. That's right luv. We both know you want to stroke that delicious cock. Please?

With great restraint, Harry's fingers went to stroke around the head of his shaft. He was still sore despite the essence of murtlap, and didn't want to overdo it. That simple touch sparked a sharp flare of pleasure that provoked an audible whimper from Ginny.

Yessss She hissed. Stroke that hot dick. Up and down, just like that. Nonononono, don't close your eyes luv! Keep them open, let me look at that sexy cock.

Harry obliged, letting Ginny ogle him, but his focus was on her body. Her head had craned instinctively as she eyed his shaft, giving him a perfect view of the valley of her breasts. Ginny was also going slowly, only occasionally rubbing her clit (which always made Harry sharply gasp). Instead she mostly just used her middle and forefinger to slowly pump in and out of herself. Ginny's body was responding. She was wet. Her juices coated her fingers and were dribbling out onto her sheets with each withdrawal.

But that was just the beginning of what arousal felt like for Ginny Weasley. Her nipples were taught, sensitive peaks. Her cunt was engorged and inflamed, it was swollen and it seemed to be opening up, somehow.

It's getting itself ready for you, love. It's hungry for that hard, throbbing cock in your hand. Oh, how its aching! How do you stand it? I just want you to take that thing and shove it into the nearest wet hole you can find until you relieve yourself. Mmmmh, I bet Hermione wouldn't mind. Or Luna.

Together, their minds flashed to a conjured fantasy as she mentioned each name. In the first, Harry had Hermione bent over a table in the library. The brunette was stammering and moaning as he plowed into her repeatedly. The second was highly informed by Ginny and Luna's masturbation session in the room of requirement. Harry was thrusting into the blonde girl, who was shuddering as she came again… and again, and again.

Harry felt a ripple of lust pulse through his body, seemingly originating from the head of his cock. Is that what Luna looks like?

Mmmmh, and she was so eager. Oh, she'd let you do it. She'd love for you to shove that cock up her cunt hole. She'd cum so easily, and would let you pump your hot seed right up into her cunny.

She was so vulgar, even more so than in her verbal dirty talk. Your 'hole' seems perfectly willing. He noted, as hot as Luna was, right now he wanted to focus on Ginny.

Mmmmh Ginny moaned. It's so hungry for that cock. She focused, letting them both feel that ravenous, pulsing, insatiable hunger right in her core- to take something hard, warm, and throbbing within herself. It was a hunger, Ginny revealed, that was nearly always there, sleeping just under the surface, but awoke whenever Harry drew near and was clawing to get out whenever they were intimate. Oh luv, this cunt is always willing. One word and I'll be bent over for you so you can relieve that needy cock right into my hot cunt.

She began flashing him with memories. How at thirteen she stole one of his shirts and tried to sleep in it- but couldn't because his scent drove her out of her mind with lust. She tormented herself for hours masturbating until she passed out in exhaustion. Or how at fourteen she caught sight of him shirtless after taking a shower. She'd had to stifle an un-ladylike noise of pure lust and had tried to retreat to her shared bedroom with Hermione to relieve herself, but Hermione was already there. Desperate, Ginny rushed back to the bathroom Harry had just vacated and rubbed one out right on the toilet.

Even with his slow, even stroking, Harry was reaching his limit. Each movement was like a hot fire a pleasure erupting along his shaft. He was tempted to stop and wait for her, but Ginny egged him on. Nonono don't stop! Keep stroking that hot cock. Mmmmh, you wanna cum luv?

Oh yes… Harry moaned, but instinctively he was holding back.

You don't need to wait for me. Remember last night?

She was right, Harry resolved. He gave into his urges and gave his cock a series and firm strokes. As he came, Ginny awed at the way his entire shaft pulsed, hot and violent as if it were a volcano. The powerful contraction pumped a string of cum, which arced out of his cock and onto his chest. It was a feeling that affected her profoundly, that stirred something within her on a primal level.

After that first pulse, Ginny came. Harry was bowled over by Ginny's orgasm. Her first contraction hit him like a freight train, right as he had finished ejecting his first load. They were out of synch. His pelvic muscles were clenched, yet they wanted to clench again along with hers, but they couldn't.

Harry cried out as the most delicious agony he'd ever experienced overtook him. His cock twitched desperately as it tried to ejaculate again, his hips arched upwards in vain. The closest Harry had ever felt to this was after the second task. Fleur had kissed him, and the wet uniform had clung to every curve of her body, and he was pretty sure she'd shot a bit of her allure at him too. She had smiled at him just so, as if she knew what she was doing to him. That night, he had stroked his cock to orgasm after orgasm, not even bothering to wipe the cum off of himself, until he could only manage to cum dry.

But that was nothing compared to this. He was literally paused in the midst of orgasm, his shaft was just as hot and sensitive as it normally was when he came, but there was none of the release, none of the satisfaction. His hand flew up and down his length, but it only inflamed it further. His penis was completely at the mercy of Ginny's pussy, which was still going through its first contraction.

Ginny, for her part, could feel everything just as Harry had, and gave a sobbing cry. She shared in Harry's agonizing pleasure- the stalled twitching of his cock as it was held captive by her greedy cunt. As if compensating for Harry's situation, her body's orgasm became supercharged. This trigged another attempt by Harry's body to join hers, which coincided with the conclusion of the first wave of Ginny's orgasm.

Only then did her cunt reset. Her pelvic muscles relaxed, and they seemed to drag Harry's with her. The couple were powerless as their bodies reloaded. Harry's body seemed to pull into itself as it readied for the next pulse.

When it finally came, Harry erupted with such force that his load landed right on his chin, sending droplets onto his mouth. This seemed to propel Ginny's orgasm even further, as Ginny's sheets had become soaked with her arousal.

Their orgasms barreled on in synchronous for an indefinable amount of time, until it was just a dull pulse that rang through both their genitalia. And then, when even that ceased, their bodies collapsed into the bed, as if puppets whose strings had been cut.

Fleur? Really?

-----

The self-proclaimed Dark Lord Voldemort was once again forced to mask pain. Ever since the previous night, he'd been harassed by twinges of pain- biting deep within him.

It was bad enough that so many of his followers hear his screaming- humiliating almost. He had spent most of the morning torturing those who had witnessed the… the attack. Thankfully, nothing that had followed came close to the searing torment that had first awoken him. It was more of an annoyance than anything, yet it was unsettling nonetheless.

Because it was an attack, that he was certain. He'd only ever felt pain like that once before, when he had tried to possess Potter a year before. He was certain of it, the mental link that he'd used to infiltrate young Harry's mind had been reversed, used against him.

What recourse did he have? Occlumency was ineffective against the link they shared- frankly he didn't fully understand the link. It was almost certainly related to the prophecy, if only he had been able to get it. He grit his teeth. If only his servants weren't so pathetic to be bested by a group of schoolchildren.

He briefly considered calling Lucius in once more, but reconsidered. What would likely happen to his son would do far more to him than the cruciatus, and he had more consequential matters to consider.

Namely, Harry Potter.

The boy had defied him a few to many times for it to be luck. No, he'd chosen correctly when he went to Godric's Hollow that Halloween night. The Longbottom boy, for all of his vaunted blood purity, was by all accounts completely devoid of talent.

No, Potter's elusiveness couldn't be completely attributed to luck. The boy certainly benefitted from luck- but fortune alone shouldn't allow a child to look eye to eye with the Dark Lord and live. No, this was fate.

If only he'd gotten the prophecy!

The answer was in there, he was certain. But as far as he knew, the only two people who knew of the full contents of the prophecy were Dumbledore and Potter himself.

Dumbledore was another matter. As long as he lived, he could shield Potter. As long as he lived, the ministry was secure. The archmage's age was showing, but he genuinely wasn't certain if he could best the man in a fair fight. Fortunately, he didn't intend to play fair. He certainly didn't expect the Malfoy boy to succeed. If he did, so much the better, if not- well there wasn't much loss- another pureblood scion with more money and ego than aptitude.

If Malfoy failed, there would be others. As long as Dumbledore maintained his public positions, he was vulnerable to assassination.

Still, the failure of his followers rankled at him. Only a few had any real talent. One did not achieve greatness by growing up with a silver spoon. No, it was those who struggled, suffered, and survived who had true potential. Those like himself, or Severus… or Potter.

Ironically, the wealth and power of the British pureblood community was the very thing that prevented it from producing talent. Their lives were too easy, their children too coddled, they were soft. Even his attempts at hardening them were not enough. Only Bellatrix seemed to be able to take the pain and use it to become stronger- the rest folded, pathetic.

Perhaps it was time he looked beyond Britain. His was far from the only insurgent movement out there. While wizard supremacy fell out of favor in Europe after the fall of Grindewald (in favor of Pureblood supremacy), the ideology was still very much alive in much of the rest of the world.

He considered it.

The only one he felt he could send was Severus. There were plenty amongst his ranks who were capable of diplomacy, but for most of them their arrogance would get in the way. He knew Snape was not so attached to Pureblood supremacy- after all he was a halfblood himself, and did he not desire Lily Potter? An accomplished Occlumens and Legimens, he'd be able to discern the intentions of those he recruited.

He'd have to wait until the school year was over, of course, but he had time.

All that left Voldemort to ponder was the connection that he and Potter shared. It troubled him- that he still could not explain it, even moreso now that it was being used against him.

In his zeal to use the link between them to manipulate Potter and obtain the prophecy, he'd neglected to thoroughly explore it, and he had to admit it deserved a much closer examination than he'd originally given it. Perhaps this link held the key to prophecy after all.