Inell's Fanfiction Archive

The large Willow tree at the edge of the Forbidden Forest is older than Hogwarts. It has been standing for centuries, from a time when there was nothing but rolling Scottish hills. It now provides a marker to students, letting them know they have wandered too far. Beyond its large roots lies the dangers of the unknown, and it serves a protective border to keep the students safe.

The Willow tree has seen many things in its lifetime. It has witnessed life and death, love and hate, lust and obsession. Its large branches have provided shade from the hot summer sun, protection from spring storms, and shelter for devious schemes, some of them more successful than others. It will remain a silent witness to the world around it and will continue to survive. The events that it witnesses will forever remain untold stories, fading memories that time will forget.

*****

“We shouldn’t.”

The words are a soft whisper in the night. The girl who has spoken stares at her companion with a look of reluctant desire. Her gaze shifts to the castle in the distance before focusing once again on the handsome young man. “We need to go back, Tom.”

“You don’t have to be scared, Minerva,” he assures her as he moves his hand over the curve of her cheek. There is a gleam in his eyes as he presses her against the trunk of the old Willow tree. His smile is insincere as he lowers his head. “I’ll never hurt you.”

“I’m not scared,” she denies automatically. She is flushed and breathing heavily as he unfastens her scarlet and gold scarf, letting it fall to the ground at their feet. “Stop. We have to finish patrol before someone catches us.”

“They won’t find us,” he tells her confidently as he steps closer. His body rubs against hers as he grip her long hair with strong fingers, knocking the pins out as he pulls her head back. His kiss is fierce and punishing, and he bites her bottom lip as he moves his hand beneath her shirt.

When she feels his fingers against the bare skin of her belly, she tenses and pushes him away. He is stronger than she, though, and simply laughs as she fights. There is something in his expression that scares her, which makes her fight harder. She scratches him, which earns her a slap across her cheek. Her skin stings from the force of his hand, and she is so surprised at his violence that she doesn’t notice him ripping her shirt open.

Her undergarments are practical and modest. There is nothing seductive about them at all, and she sees him sneer as he easily removes them with wandless magic. Her breasts are small, her skin is pale, and she is trembling as she starts to fight him again. “My little wildcat,” he purrs in the voice that convinced her to let him have a kiss all those nights ago.

She refuses to surrender even as she realizes that it is hopeless. They are too far away from the castle for her to scream for help, and Tom won’t let her go until he’s finished. Minerva is strong, but he is stronger, both physically and magically. Her wand lies on the ground near the root of the Willow tree, so close yet so far. He doesn’t bother to remove her knickers. Instead, he reaches beneath her skirt and shoves the material to the side. He moves his fingers move between her legs, finding her still damp from the kisses and touches she had allowed in a fit of rebellion and desire to be something more than the class spinster.

“Keep fighting me, Minerva,” he urges as he pushes her against the tree with her arms above her head and wrists held tightly in one of his hands. "I like it when you fight."

She tries to get away, but he's too strong. She manages to kick him hard enough to get loose but she doesn't take a step before he grabs her and drags her to the ground. He unfastens his trousers and pushes them down around his hips. He is hard and strokes himself as he smirks at her and uses his body to hold her down. She arches off the ground, but he doesn't budge. She can tell when he looks at her that this time there is no escape. His face is no longer handsome; instead it is cruel and harsh as he rolls fully on top of her.

She refuses to scream as he thrusts inside her. She bites her lip until it bleeds as he begins to move in and out. It hurts, burning with every push, and she stares at the limbs above them as he takes her. She is ashamed and blames herself for being seduced by a sharp wit and pretty face without seeing the truth beneath that façade. It won’t happen again, she vows as she feels grass and rocks scratching her back with each shove forward.

When it’s over, he is smug. She has stopped trying to get away because he seems to enjoy when she does, but she hates him and makes sure he knows she's not broken by fighting him as best as she can. He uses his wand on her, pushing the wood inside her as he says, “They say that virginal blood is quite powerful. We can’t waste that, can we?” He laughs as he moves the wand in and out until there are tears on her face. He licks the salty wetness from her cheeks before he bites her neck and breasts. He rolls her over and takes her one more time, and seems to delight in the fact that she stills resists and fights.

After he spills inside her again, he is finally finished with her. She is bent over on the ground, her face against the dirt, with her skirt pushed up over her back. She is sore and tired, defeated but not broken, and he leaves her like that. There is no threat for her not to tell. He knows she is too proud to ever let anyone know what happened, which is why she figures he chose her.

Minerva hurts between her legs and can feel his release on her upper thighs as she crawls closer to the Willow tree. She leans against it and trembles as she tries to collect herself. She still has to finish patrol and then she’s going to go take a hot bath, though she knows that no amount of water will make her feel clean.

*****

“We shouldn’t.”

The words are spoken at the same time, quickly follow by soft laughs. The two people lying on the blanket beneath the Willow tree share a gentle kiss.

“We need to stop, Narcissa,” he tells her in a husky voice. He traces her jaw with his finger and smiles.

“I’m tired of stopping, Lucius,” she replies in a petulant tone. “One more kiss?”

“If we kiss again, I may not be able to stop,” he mutters as his hand drifts over her ribs before he moves it behind her to rest on her bum. He pulls her closer and rubs against her, letting her feel his arousal.

“Then don’t,” she says with a tempting smile as she runs her fingers through his long blond hair.

“We can’t,” he groans against her neck before he kisses her warm skin. “Your parents would curse me. My parents would kill me. Then you’d be stuck marrying Nott or, God forbid, Goyle.”

“You’re too old-fashioned, Lucius,” Narcissa accuses as she angles her neck so he can reach her throat and the sensitive spot beneath her ear. “Bella certainly wasn’t virginal on her wedding day.”

“You’re not Bella, thank God,” he reminds her before he smiles and licks the spot that makes her moan. Her robe is open and he slides his hand along her leg, pushing her skirt higher as he touches the smooth skin of her inner thigh. “Is this what you want, Cissa?”

“Don’t give me that innocent smile, Lucius. I know better,” she tells him as she spreads her legs and pushes against his hand. “You know what I want.”

“Do I?” he teases as he drags his fingertip along the damp cloth covering her cunt. He watches her face and smirks when she moans. “Perhaps this?”

“You’re such an annoying tease,” she mutters as she pushes him back against the blanket and straddles him. She smiles smugly when his hips buck up when she grinds against his erection. Her skirt is around her thighs as she rubs her wet knickers against him. He watches her unfasten her shirt and groans when she lets it fall open to reveal her breasts.

He reaches for her tie, winding the green and silver material around his hand as he pulls her down. He kisses her as she rolls her hips to give herself more friction and pushes her bra up to squeeze her bare breast. He tugs on her nipple as she rides him, arching his hips off the ground as she rubs back and forth over his cock. When she scratches his chest, he growls and flips them over.

Her hair is spread over the blanket in a wave of white gold as he begins to rub against her. It is so tempting to unfasten his trousers and push her knickers to the side, but he resists. They do everything else, but they both want to wait, even if it is frustrating to pull back each time. He is old-fashioned, perhaps, but he also knows the marriage bonds are stronger if they wait until their wedding night.

He kisses her as they move, caressing her breasts as he pushes against her. Her legs are around his waist and she’s rolling her hips, knowing exactly what she needs. Lucius’ hair falls around his face as he kisses his way down her neck and along her collarbone before he sucks her nipple into his mouth. He scrapes his teeth over her skin and listens to the low moan she makes.

“More,” she demands as she moves her hands beneath his shirt and scratches his back deep enough to leave marks.

Lucius shifts and changes his angle, rubbing her more directly now. It’s the friction she needs. She comes with a soft sigh, trembling beneath him as she shudders. He keeps moving, grinding against her as she shakes, and then his hips jerk as he comes in his shorts. Her fingers brush through his hair as she pants, and she smiles when he raises his head and looks at her. He kisses her gently, simply holding her for a few more moments before they’re forced to go back to the castle.

The privacy provided by the Willow tree gives him a chance to relax without worrying about anyone seeing his weakness. He only has one, after all, and he protects her with cool indifference when they are around others. It is only here, shielded by the strong roots of this old tree, that he allows himself to enjoy her. When they are married, he will be able to keep her safe from any who might use her against him. Until then, they have these stolen moments beneath the Willow.

*****

“We shouldn’t.”

The words are a soft moan in the still night air. The only response is a low groan against bare skin.

“Viktor, we should stop,” Hermione tries again even as she presses closer to him.

“Vy should ve stop?” he asks as he raises his head to look at her. He moves his fingers along her neck, tracing the marks he has left there with his thumb, and smiles when she shudders. “Ve both vont more, Herm-own-ninny. Vy stop?”

“It’s too soon,” she whispers as she looks up at him. He’s tall and muscular and makes her feel so small and fragile when his large hands move over her body. It becomes more difficult to stop each time.

“It has been months,” he reminds her as he leans in for another kiss. “Vy stop vhen it feels good?”

The tree is hard behind her back as he kisses her, and she can’t think of any reason why they should stop when he’s making her feel like this. When they part, she steps away from the tree and removes her robe. She lies it on the ground and looks at him as she sits down. “I’ve never---“

Viktor removes his robe and lies it beside hers before he kneels down beside her. His fingers cover her lips before she can finish speaking. “I know,” he says as he brushes her hair away from her face. “Ve vill go slow, Herm-own-ninny. Ve do not haff to make loff tonight. Ve can just lie beneath tree and practice.”

“Practice?” she repeats nervously.

“I vill learn vay you vish for me to touch you,” he tells her as he lowers his head and nips at her neck. “I vill teach you vay that I like for you to be touching me.”

He kisses his way along her throat and jaw before his lips brush lightly against her own. His touch is firm but gentle, an odd combination that she now associates with him. He looks at her, waiting for her consent before he does anything else. She looks around, seeing nothing but the edge of the forest, empty space, and the large Willow tree where she, Harry, and Ron like to eat lunch on weekends, far away from prying eyes.

She looks back at Viktor and nods as she smiles shyly. “I’d like to learn.”

He smiles and looks relieved. “Ve vill undress so that ve can see each other,” he decides as he begins to unbutton his shirt. The moonlight peeks through the thick branches above and provides their only light save for their wands. He slides his shirt off his shoulders and tosses it on the ground beside them.

Hermione reaches out to touch his chest, listening to his breath catch as she touches his collarbone and moves her hand down his belly. He is slender but muscular, and she likes the way his skin feels beneath her fingers. There is hair lightly scattered over his chest and her fingers brush through a thicker trail low on his abdomen. He grips her wrist before her hand can go lower.

“Not yet,” he murmurs as he brings her hand up to touch his chest again. He moves her fingers over his nipples, which harden at her touch, and she watches his face as she touches him. The harsh angles are softened in the moonlight.

“Like this?” she asks huskily as she rubs her thumb over his nipple. She feels powerful when he shudders, and a familiar heat begins to spread throughout her. He looks at her with the same intensity that first caught her attention months ago.

“It is now your turn,” he says as he reaches out and begins to unbutton her shirt. His knuckles brush against her skin as he works, and she gasps when his fingers move beneath the cotton of her brassiere.

She blushes when he pushes the shirt down her shoulders. They have kissed many times and he has touched her through her clothes, but he has never seen her like this before. She is suddenly aware of her pale skin and her breasts, which she thinks are average. She isn’t skinny or athletic - her body possesses subtle curves that she thinks will become more obvious when she’s older.

“Loffly,” he murmurs as he stares at her. “I vant to touch, Herm-own-ninny.”

“Yes,” she whispers as she unclasps her bra and pulls it off. His hands move over her body, his calloused fingers rough against her smooth skin.

“Show me,” he demands in a low raspy voice that makes her body tingle.

She takes his hand and moves it over her breast, touching herself the way she does at night beneath the covers. His fingers tug on her nipple, twisting it the way she shows him. Her knickers are wet and her body is warm despite the light spring breeze. He lowers his head and licks her breasts, making her whimper as he sucks her nipple into his mouth.

Viktor sits back and smiles as he reaches down to unfasten his trousers. “Ve vill finish undressing now,” he tells her as she watches his hands. He opens his trousers and shifts on the robes until they are pushed down around his knees. She licks her lips when she watches him push his shorts past his firm thighs, her eyes widening when she sees his penis. It’s erect, firm and swollen, and not exactly what she expects.

It’s not like the photos she saw in the reference book at all. It’s thicker than she has imagined and she’s not sure how it fits inside a woman but she knows it will, has read about anatomy and how bodies adjust to penetration. As she watches it, it seems to move, which startles her. It throbs and stands out proudly from a nest of black curls, straining towards her.

“Herm-own-ninny,” he groans when she reaches out to run her finger along the underside of it. It’s curved at the base, which interests her, and she traces it from base to head before she wipes the head.

She looks at him as she brings her hand to her mouth and licks her finger hesitantly. It doesn’t taste as bad as she thought it might, though it’s a bit salty and bitter on her tongue. She cleans her finger and decides that she could eventually get used to the taste, though she can’t help but wonder if all men taste the same or if that’s just Viktor’s flavor. Then she giggles as she realizes she’s thinking of him as though he’s ice cream or something. She looks at him and smiles, feeling the tension lessen slightly before his gaze lowers to her skirt.

Hermione blushes again as she unfastens her skirt. She moves to her knees and slides it down before she sits and pulls it the rest of the way off. She’s now just wearing her practical white cotton knickers, and she’s aware of every curve of her body in a way she never has been before. She starts to pull down her knickers, but his hands stop her.

“I vill do that,” he tells her in that raspy low voice that makes her body tremble. She watches him, raising her hips so he can pull her knickers down, and she smiles when he shudders as she is bared to him.

Her smile fades as his hand moves back up her legs until he touches her between them. She is wet as he slides his fingers along her lips, and she groans when he sucks his fingers into his mouth, his tongue lapping at them as he stares at her.

“I vish for you to teach me how you vant to be touched,” he says as he reaches down to stroke his erection. She watches how he grips himself, how his fingers caress his bits, and how he moves his hand firmly from base to head.

She looks at him, biting her lip as she realizes what he wants to see. She doesn’t know if she can do that. She hears the leaves rustle above them from another breeze and listens to the sound of him breathing as he waits. Finally, she scoots back on the robes until she is leaning against the tree and then she spreads her legs. She feels aroused when he stares at her with that intense, hungry gaze as he strokes himself.

He watches her bend her legs and put her feet flat against the robes. Hermione reaches between her legs and runs her fingers over herself lightly. She watches him watch her, unable to believe she can feel this excited even without him touching her. She knows they shouldn’t be doing this, but she doesn’t want to stop. She’s only fifteen, but she’s ready for more.

“Like this,” she murmurs as she spreads her legs wider and begins to move her fingers inside her. He stops touching himself and looks at her hands, paying attention to how she touches and what makes her breath catch. She soon forgets that he is watching her, that they’re beneath the Willow tree, that they could be caught. She focuses on the feel of her fingers as they slide in and out, and her hips begin to roll as she reaches up to touch her breast. All she thinks about is how aroused she is and how good it feels to touch herself.

She gasps when his hand moves over her belly and her eyes roll back as his thumb rubs her clit. “I vant to vatch you fall, Herm-own-ninny,” he whispers as his erection rubs against her leg.

“Viktor,” she moans as he pulls her hand away and moves his own between her legs. His fingers are bigger than her own as he slides two inside her. She looks at him as he sucks her fingers clean, licking and lapping at the wet skin as he keeps moving his hand against her.

He is between her legs, his erection bobbing in the night air as he focuses on her. She reaches for it when he releases her hand, wrapping her wet fingers around it as best as she can. He hisses and thrusts his fingers deep inside her. She bucks against him, the tree scratching her back as she tightens around him.

He says something in Bulgarian that she doesn’t understand before he grunts. He spills onto her hand and leg, wet and sticky warmth dripping down her skin. His face is sweaty, his lips are parted, and she thinks he’s beautiful as he shudders from his release. He leans forward and kisses her as he eases a third finger inside her. She can feel his bare skin against hers, the hair on his chest rubbing against her breasts as they kiss.

It doesn’t take long before she finds her own release. She whimpers as she comes, aware of every sensation in a way she hasn’t been before, and he holds her as she trembles. Her back hurts from rubbing against the tree bark, but she feels good, hazy and warm, so she doesn’t notice so much. He pulls her down to lie on their robes and kisses her once she stops panting.

When he pulls back, she looks at the branches overhead and sees glimpses of sky and moonlight. She smiles as she rolls onto her side and stares at him. She traces his crooked nose and his thin lips before she caresses his strong jaw. She kisses his chin as she moves closer, wanting more contact while they’re both naked.

He kisses her face, soft kisses over her skin before he looks down to where her legs are tangled with his own. His hips push forward, pressing his growing erection against her belly. His gaze meets her and he whispers, “Ve shouldn’t.”

Hermione runs her fingers through his thick hair and snuggles closer. They are safe here nestled between the roots of the Willow tree, protected from prying eyes, concealed from the real world as they become lost in their own private world. She smiles at him and says, “Yes, we should.”

*****

The Willow tree has seen many things in its lifetime. It remembers troubles and love and innocence and thinks, one day, it will have seen every variation and then, perhaps, it will be the end of its time here.

End