Nobody's Prefect, a Hogwarts Tale
Part 1 of 2
by Sol Oliver aka solovn

"I'm afraid that this is just part of being a Prefect, Nigel," said Professor Sprout with a kind smile. "I know it's at a time when you'd normally be tending your garden, but I promise you that I will look after it for you."

Nigel sighed. It was only now in his sixth year at Hogwarts that he'd been named a Prefect, and he knew that it was his duty to look after his fellow students. Still, he felt like he was being wronged. "I want to do my duty," he said hopefully to the Hufflepuff Headmistress. "It's just that I feel like *I'm* the one being punished. *She's* the one that broke the rules, and it's not fair that her penalty is an afternoon of tutoring with *me*!" 

"It's not really a penalty, Nigel," said Professor Sprout. "As you have heard, Desdemona has been through some very difficult things recently. It's not like her to behave as she has this term, and l really think you could help her find her way again," said Professor Sprout patiently. Nigel had heard that her classmate and her family had had a run-in with some Deatheaters shortly after going home for the summer, but there were only rumors about what had happened. Some said she witnessed them torture her parents. Others claimed to hear that she'd been the victim herself. But Albus Dumbledore, Head of Hogwarts, had sworn everyone involved in the rescue to secrecy, and no one would be foolish enough to break such an oath.

"But what can *I* do? She's barely ever talked to me" said Nigel, trying not to whine. The truth was that he'd had a crush on Desdemona Ballymeade ever since they were first-years, when they had worked together in a Potions class, and she had been in his dreams ever since. But he wasn't about to tell Professor Sprout that. "You should probably find someone else. She's not going to listen to me. I mean, she's a Ravenclaw, and everybody thinks she's great and fun, and I'm just...just..."

"You're a good-hearted, smart, talented, and handsome--yes, handsome--young wizard," finished Professor Sprout before Nigel could call himself a geek, and without letting him interrupt her. "I wouldn't have selected you for Prefect if I didn't believe in you, Nigel. And after the kind of evil that Desdemona was exposed to, what she needs most is to see how good people can be."

Nigel's heart lifted at these words. He'd never thought of himself in these terms, and it elated him. Still, he was feeling very unsure about himself. "But why didn't they get someone from Ravenclaw? Wouldn't that be better?"

"It was Professor Flitwick, head of Ravenclaw, who first suggested asking to see if you'd be willing to help," said Professor Sprout. "And I agreed that you were the perfect choice."

"I don't understand. She has so many friends."

"Sometimes it's easier to open up to someone you don't know so well," began Professor Sprout. "And things aren't always what they seem. Although Desdemona keeps company with a lot of other students, she may not feel that she can confide in any of them."

"Then why me?"

"She needs to be with someone she doesn't feel she has to impress...someone she won't feel is judging her all the time."  

"Like her Ravenclaw friends do?"

"Precisely! But more than that, it has to be someone with exceptional patience and understanding, and a willingness to help others."

"Like me?"

"Precisely like you," said Professor Sprout with a proud smile. "You're exceptionally gifted, Nigel. I've often wondered why the Sorting Hat didn't place you in Ravenclaw -- though I'm glad it didn't! Yet despite your abilities, you always find time to help anyone who seems to need it." Nigel thought back and realized it was true. In particular, he recalled a number of times in Professor Flitwick's classes when he'd helped particularly discouraged students with the classwork, without being asked.

"I think I understand," said Nigel. "But I just don't know..."
 
"I want to show something to you, and I trust you not to tell anyone after you've seen it," Said Professor Sprout. Nigel nodded seriously, and she walked over to a small wooden cabinet decorated with moons and clouds that slowly drifted across its surface. Nigel had always wondered what it was for. With a tap of Professor Sprout's wand, a hole opened up in the previously solid front surface, like the shutter of a camera. Nigel could see the opening from where he sat, but some kind of enchantment made it impossible to see inside. Professor Sprout's arm disappeared into the void nearly to her elbow, groped around for a moment, and then extracted a smallish scroll. As she brought it back to her desk, Nigel could see that its broken wax seal was stamped with the Hogwarts crest.

"Is that her disciplinary record?" asked Nigel, craning his neck to see the scroll's surface as Professor Sprout unrolled it onto the desk. But the edges were well worn and brown with age -- far too old to have anything to do with Desdemona.

"Nooooo..." said Professor Sprout with a funny look in her eye. "It's mine."

Nigel stared at her, mouth wide open. It was hard to imagine any of the Hogwarts professors as students, and even harder to picture them getting in trouble. Especially Professor Sprout, who everyone agreed was the nicest person at the school. He couldn't fathom what could possibly have made her get into trouble.

"I went through a rough patch, too," she said, sliding the parchment forward so that Nigel could see. He recognized the handwriting immediately as that of Dumbledore, and it read:

Dear Mrs. Sprout

I regret that it is necessary to send this letter, but I'm afraid that without intervention soon, we will be forced to reconsider your daughter's place here at Hogwarts. I apologize that we were unable to detect her behaviour earlier, but I'm afraid she's brighter than nearly all of her peers -- and the greater part of our staff -- and has managed to disguise her inappropriate actions for some time. Fortunately, another student involved in one of her escapades was willing to cooperate with us, and we were able to, as they say, catch her red-handed. The moving images we captured will be difficult for you to watch, but I believe that seeing them will help you realize how serious the situation is. Tap the scroll with your wand with the incantation "revelludus" once you have mentally prepared yourself.

I do not believe it is too late for your daughter to correct her behaviors, and am hopeful that she will stay on at Hogwarts. She has some of the greatest gifts in Herbology that I've ever seen, and could go very far in the wizarding world if we are able to help her now.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Nigel began to bring his wand up to tap the scroll, but the parchment disappeared with a *whoosh!* before he could reach it. "Um...there's no need to view the contents," said Professor Sprout, her face flushed as she hastily rolled up the warning notice. "The important thing for you to know is that my experiences were similar to Desdemona's, and if it weren't for the love and kindness of others, I wouldn't be where I am today." Somehow, reading Dumbledore's reprimand of the young Sprout made Nigel respect her more than ever. 

"Okay, I'll do it," he said as she returned the scroll to the cloud-dappled cabinet. He was still curious about what she'd done to make the head of Hogwarts send her mother a letter, but he'd just have to leave it to his imagination.

"I'm very proud of you, Nigel," said Professor Sprout as she returned to the desk. "You are to meet Desdemona after classes tomorrow outside of the Great Hall, and I leave it up to you as to the best place to work on Charms. I've already met with Professor Flitwick and Desdemona, and she'll be waiting for you."  Professor Sprout shook her head sadly, "And it is very puzzling why her Charms work would suffer the most. It's always been her greatest talent. No matter. I'm sure you'll be able to help her."

Nigel still didn't feel so convinced. "Are you sure? Charms isn't really my best subject."

"Only compared to how good you are at nearly everything else. What I really want is for you to just be yourself," said Professor Sprout with a smile. "It's easier than you think, and much more of a gift than you can imagine." 

Nigel turned to leave. "One more thing, sweetie," said the Professor, holding a wad of black cloth. "Would you be so kind as to drop her robe off at Ravenclaw house? She forgot it here earlier."

Nigel took the robe and left Professor Sprout's office beaming, but as he headed off to his garden plot, a strange uneasiness began to gather in his gut. He knew he was doing the right thing by meeting Desdemona the next day, but he couldn't help feeling an apprehension that was both strange and exciting to him. Just what *had* happened to her, and what did she do to get herself into trouble? Nigel decided that if she wanted to talk about it, she would. Otherwise, they would just do Charms for a couple of hours and that would be that.

But as he stepped out into the crisp autumn weather, a voice in his head told him it wasn't going to be so simple.

He'd seen her in the corridors plenty of times without getting nervous, but this was different. Unlike every other day, Desdemona would actually be looking for him -- he wouldn't be just another piece of furniture or tapestry on the wall. Thankfully, she hadn't been around when he'd dropped her robe off the day before. His stomach began to tighten as he realized that he would actually have to talk to her now, and as he rounded the corner and the entrance to the Great Hall came into view, he harbored the hope that she would just not show up.

But there she was, surrounded as usual by a handful of young witches and wizards, all of them hanging on her every word and gesture. She wasn't the most classically beautiful girl at Hogwarts, but there was a magnetism about her that was undeniable. Both of her parents were said to have the same effect on those they came in contact with, and their books on Magical Sexuality were well known (though forbidden at Hogwarts). In fact, Nigel had read in the Daily Prophet that their expertise in that field may have been why Lord Voldemort had sent Deatheaters to their home. Although not a Dark Art, Magical Sexuality could be a destructive force in the wrong hands.

Nigel felt as if a liquefication hex had been placed on his feet as he approached Desdemona and her entourage, a mix of Ravenclaws, Gryffindors, and at least one Slytherin that he could identify. Normally such a group wouldn't even take notice of a sixth-year Hufflepuff, but as he shuffled towards them, their laughter and talking quickly petered out. Nigel stood in front of them awkwardly, and their eyes regarded him with a mix of curiosity and contempt. Braving a glance at Desdemona, he was surprised that her eyes registered only calm intelligence. It even seemed like she was smiling a bit, though that may have been left over from the conversation that had wilted when he'd approached.

"I think your date's here," sneered the witch that Nigel had pegged as a seventh-year Slytherin. The others all snickered and giggled, but Desdemona's expression remained unchanged.

"Yes, he is," said Desdemona evenly, and the laughter stopped. Nigel felt like he'd just been ridiculed, and his face began to flush. He desperately wanted to run away, but was more determined to hold his ground. Still, he was too petrified to speak, but thankfully Desdemona broke the ice. "Hello, Nigel."

"Hi...hi Desdemona," he said.

Laughter erupted once more throughout the small gathering. "'Desdemona'! Did you hear that, Desi? No one's called her 'Desdemona' since third year!" cackled a Ravenclaw.

"Quiet!" snapped Desi, shooting the offender a withering look, quieting him instantly. Turning her face back to Nigel, her expression softened again, and she stepped forward, the small gathering parting to let her go by. "Shall we?" she asked, offering her arm. The Slytherin witch began to snicker again, but one quick glance from Desi quieted her. The rest of the group were exchanging curious and meaningful looks. Embarrassed more than ever, Nigel could think of nothing to do except to latch his hand onto her robed arm. It felt quite strong.

"Yeah, okay," he said, and immediately felt himself being pulled down the corridor, away from Desi's dumbfounded friends. Her walk was purposeful, and Nigel stumbled a bit before managing to match her stride. She was as tall as he was, if a bit taller, and took long, graceful steps. Once they were out of sight of the gaggle of students, Desi slackened her pace. Somehow, Nigel knew that it was time to let go of her arm. As he did, he was surprised to feel a slight ache in his gut.

It was only after they'd walked silently for several minutes that Nigel realized that he hadn't told her where they were going. By this time, they had already gone up and down several flights of stairs, and down many corridors. "Um, Desi?" started Nigel, hoping that she would stop walking. She didn't. "Um, I thought we could practice Charms in Professor Flitwick's classroom. I'm sure he wouldn't mind..."

"I know a better place," replied Desi, quickening her pace. Nigel nearly had to jog to keep up. They were running into fewer and fewer students as they marched along, which was somewhat of a relief to him. At the same time, he was becoming hopelessly lost. All he could do was try to keep up in Desi's wake, and the thought of once more being invited to touch her swaying robes was his encouragement. 

At last she came to a halt, and Nigel almost ran into her backside. He looked around. There were no doors or windows, only drab, gray stone walls. "I need a place where we can practise Charms...in private," said Desi. At first Nigel thought she was talking to him, but after a moment she repeated the phrase to the blank wall. Much to his astonishment, a door suddenly appeared. Desi opened it and stepped through. "Come on."

Bewildered, Nigel followed her inside. "What in the name of Hufflepuff..." began Nigel as he stared at the room before him. "How come I never knew about this room?"

"Because it only exists for those who need it," said Desi. "It's the Room of Requirement."

"Of course!" said Nigel. "I remember people talking about it a long time ago. But we all thought it was just one of those stories that upperclassmen told to make us look stupid." As he now recalled, the Room of Requirement would only appear to someone in great need if they happened to pass a certain spot while thinking of their dilemma. And this must be the place.

The room was the very picture of comfort, like an oversized den. Arranged throughout the room were all manner of couches, chairs, and other furniture, all of them looking warm and inviting. There was a sunken area in front of a fireplace, complete with exotic fur rug. There were also a number of sturdy wooden cabinets in the room, and Nigel couldn't begin to guess at their contents. In all, it wouldn't have been his idea of the best place to practise Charms, but it would certainly do.

"Let me take your robe," said Desi as she flicked her wand. 

"Oh!" yelped Nigel, who barely had time to grab his own wand before the garment lifted swiftly up and off of him. It sailed gracefully towards a tall wardrobe, which opened to receive it. "I guess we don't need to go over silent spell casting."

"No. No, we don't," said Desi with a wry smile. Lifting her arms above her head, her own robe gracefully slid up off of her body. Settling back down, it retained Desi's form as it hovered in the air next to her. "Off you go," she said, and the robe joined Nigel's own inside the wardrobe, which closed again.

Nigel was left staring at Desi, who had changed quite a bit since they were first-year classmates. Full-figured in the manner of a classic pinup, she wore a blouse and simple skirt that heightened the sensuality of her curves. She didn't seem to mind that he was ogling over her; in fact, she seemed to enjoy the attention. Still, Nigel caught himself and looked away, pretending to be interested in an overstuffed chair to his right.

"So..." he said, trying but failing to look Desi in the eye. "What should we go over?"

"We both know we're not here to go over Charms," said Desi, catching Nigel by surprise.

"Yes we are..." he said, growing nervous. Without his robe on, he shouldn't be sweating this much..."Professor Sprout thought I'd be the best person to help you with Charms..."

"There are about a hundred students in this school that are better at Charms than you," said Desi tartly. Nigel felt like he'd been slapped across the face, and turned his eyes to the ground. "I'm sorry, dear," continued Desi in a softer voice. "I just meant that we're both smart enough that that's not the reason they chose you."

"Oh," replied Nigel, feeling a little better. Desi looked agitated, arms crossed and slowly pacing, but he could tell that she wasn't annoyed with him. 

"They think there's something wrong with me," she said quietly but defiantly. "And they think if I have someone I can talk to, I'll 'get better.'"

Nigel didn't know what to say. It was as if she'd heard his entire conversation with Professor Sprout. "Your robe..." said Nigel in realization.

"Yes, my robe," said Desi, still pacing. "I heard everything." 

Nigel felt naked, and even a bit violated. She'd heard their entire talk through her enchanted robe, and even if Sprout had said nice things about him, it was embarrassing. At that moment, however, he thought about what the Professor had told him, and when he looked at Desi, he only saw someone who needed someone to talk to.

"So what do you think?" said Nigel with more confidence than he felt. "Do you feel like there's anything wrong?"

"NO!" snapped Desi reflexively, staring at him coldly. Again Nigel felt punished, and his emotions registered on his face. Desi's face relaxed as she looked at the boy. "I'm sorry, Nigel. I'm not angry with you," she said, plopping herself down onto a large leather couch. "It's just that...well, you wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

Somehow, Nigel had forgotten that this was Desdemona, the girl he'd had a crush on since he was eleven. She was just another person in need of a friendly ear. Desi smiled, leaned over and pat her hand on the cushion at the other end of the sofa. Nigel eased himself onto the couch, which instantly conformed to his body. It was Desi's turn to feel awkward, and Nigel did his best to look relaxed and receptive. 

"I can't believe I'm going to talk about my problems with a...a..."

"A Hufflepuff geek?" completed Nigel with a smile. "Don't worry. I know what people say."

"Yeah, well, Professor Sprout is right," said Desi, fixing him with a smile. "You are handsome. You just don't take care of yourself right."

Nigel's stomach did a quick loop, though his first instinct was to believe that she was just teasing him. But her smile was a sincere one, not at all cruel or misleading, so he decided to take her comment at face value. And she was right about him; he'd never cared much about his personal appearance beyond basic hygiene.

"Thanks," he said at last. 

"Don't let it go to your head," said Desi, but Nigel wasn't going to let that happen. Still, he felt like they'd each earned a bit of the other's trust, and decided he could take a small chance. 

"So, why *did* you get in trouble," he asked, bracing himself for another cold look. Instead, he saw mischief in her eyes.

"I got caught in the corridors after hours," she said, lazily twisting a lock of her hair around her finger.

"That hardly seems like the kind of thing that would get you a meeting with your head of house," said Nigel, puzzled.

"There was more to it than that." Desi twisted the tress a little tighter. "I wasn't alone." Nigel knew there was even a little more information missing, and he gave her a patient look. "Okay, okay...I got caught fucking Mona Cheekham in the hall."

"What?!" shouted Nigel, unable to contain his surprise. "You're a lesbian?"

"I didn't say I'm a lesbian," said Desi with a laugh. "I said I got caught fucking Mona." As Nigel mulled this over, she added, "and if Peeves had come by ten minutes earlier, he would have seen me fucking Bill Pizzle, too."

"Oh," said Nigel, trying to sound nonchalant. Desi smiled at his discomfort. It was clear to her that he was naive when it came to sex, and she found she enjoyed shocking him. There was something else refreshing about him, and she was just starting to realize what it was.

"You really don't want or expect anything from me, do you?" she said, sitting up. The young wizard looked confused.

"Well, I guess not...I mean, not that you don't have a lot to offer---I mean, no. No," he stammered as Desi examined him, amused. "Well, yes. Yes I do." Desi started to feel a little concerned, but Nigel continued. "I just want to listen to you right now. Really." 

Desi relaxed visibly. She hated to admit that their teachers were right -- that she needed someone to talk to. But it was true that she didn't feel like she had to impress Nigel, and that she could tell him anything. "I guess I'm just so used to everyone wanting something from me," she began, leaning back. "I mean, I'm just one person, right?"

"Right."

"Right. Everyone wants to be seen with me. Everyone wants to hang out with me," she said with increasing emotion. She checked Nigel's eyes before continuing. "Everyone wants to fuck me."

Nigel felt ashamed, as the thought had been in and out of his mind since his meeting with Professor Sprout. Even now, he couldn't look at her face or curvy figure directly for more than a few moments at a time without becoming aroused. "I can see why you'd get fed up with it all," he said, honestly. 

"Thank you," said Desi, nodding her head. "But I guess I kind of did it to myself. And yes, I'm quite aware that you're attracted to me." The way she said this last part, for some reason, made Nigel feel comfortable again.

"Can't you just say 'no' when people want to...hang out and stuff...when you don't feel like it," he asked carefully.

"I wish it was that easy," Desi replied. "It's just that, well, I *do* like having people around me. But they all just expect SO MUCH from me ALL THE TIME." She looked genuinely frustrated to Nigel, and though he'd never been in the same position, he could understand how she felt. "And then this stupid fucking summer..."

Nigel tried not to look too eager about finding out what happened with the Deatheaters. And although Desi crossed her arms and looked a bit uncomfortable as she sat in the overstuffed couch, she clearly needed to talk about it. 

"Don't worry," said Nigel. "I won't tell anyone."

"I know you won't," said Desi, relaxing again. "And I appreciate that. I just don't like to even think about it."

"You don't have to..."

"No...I do. Just give me a moment." Desi closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again. Nigel was stunned by how deep and beautiful her eyes were, but cleared his mind in order to listen. "I'd only been home for a week, but I knew something strange was going on. My parents were usually very chatty, but they barely said anything at all around me. God, I was so stupid! I actually asked them on my third day back if they were getting a divorce. For the first time since I got home they laughed, and while I was glad they were still in love as always, they didn't explain why they were so tense."

"Then one night we get this visit from a wizard I'd never seen before. My parents seemed to know him, and they made me go upstairs when they saw him coming up the walk." Desi flicked her wand, and moments later a glass of water landed in her open hand. She took a sip and continued. "I was able to hear some of their conversation, just bits and pieces. It was clear to me, though, that this guy wanted my parents to help him. I know now that the wizard was a Deatheater, and that my parents turned him down. Water?"

"Yes, thank you," said Nigel, and almost instantly he, too, was sipping from a glass. He could see how difficult it was for Desi to talk about this, and admired her bravery. Desi steeled herself, took a big gulp of water, and continued.

"So it was two nights later and we're clearing up after dinner," she said, concentrating. "I remember seeing three robed figures coming up the walk, and my parents started to freak out. They still wouldn't tell me what was going on, and nearly dragged me upstairs into my room and slammed the door. I heard my mom put a spell on the door, and found that I couldn't budge it."

"I could hear the Deatheaters break through the front door, and then shouts. I tried to open the bedroom door with the alohomora spell, but it still wouldn't open. I could tell that hexes were flying downstairs, and then I heard my father yell; then my mother screamed." Desi's eyes were beginning to fill with tears as she remembered the attack. Nigel wanted desperately to comfort her, but he knew that the worst was yet to come. 

"Then I heard their footsteps coming up the stairs, slow and heavy. I tried to open the window, but that was sealed, too." Desi was sinking into the couch as she recounted the story. "It didn't take them long to force the door. There were two of them. Although they were covered head to toe in those horrible black robes, I could tell that one was a man and the other a woman. Before I could even raise my wand to resist, they paralyzed me. They brought me downstairs."

Desi was nearly trembling, and Nigel moved towards her just enough to extend his hand towards her. She took it and immediately gripped hard. It was painful to him, but he knew it wasn't nearly as painful as the memory was to her. A heavy tear dropped from her eye and soaked into her blouse, leaving a dark spot.

"The third Deatheater was standing guard over my parents in the living room. They were half-naked. They unfroze me and pushed me down into a recliner, and the man who'd come to get me began yelling at my mom and dad. Telling them they'd better join them or else. It was so unfair!" The grip on Nigel's hand tightened, and he clenched his teeth together to manage the pain. "They said if they wouldn't use their sexual powers to help them, then they were going to literally fuck us all senseless."

Nigel knew that it wasn't just a figure of speech. He'd once hear there was a whole ward at St. Mungo's filled with victims of misused Magical Sexuality -- people so overcome or abused by magical sexual acts that their minds were crippled, often for life. Desi continued.

"My father begged for them to let me go," she said, another tear falling down. "They laughed at him and unfroze him. They said if he did exactly as they said, they'd consider sparing my life. He agreed, and the woman stepped up to him, grabbed his cock, and began to stroke it. I tried not to look, but it was like I was watching a movie. My mom began crying." 

At this point, Desi was fighting back her own tears, and Nigel too was starting to feel his eyes watering up. "The man guarding my mom came over to me at that point. I knew from his body language what he wanted. But I was ready." Desi's voice gained strength. "Sexual Powers run strong in my family, and I'd been trained at an early age to protect myself. So when he stuck his hand up my skirt, he got a real surprise." She actually laughed a bit as she remembered this part. "It took all three of them five minutes to stop the hair from growing on his hand."

Nigel laughed, picturing a Deatheater with a long mane of hair growing out one sleeve. But the grip on his hand tightened again. "My dad tried to grab his wand when they weren't looking, but they froze him again before he could reach it. They said that because they couldn't lay a hand on me, sexually, they would suffer even more before being killed." Desi emptied her glass and sent it back for more water. She seemed much more composed now, the initial shock of reexperiencing the memory over, and her words came steadily. "The one that tried to grope me sat my mom up on the couch and made her suck his cock, calling her names the whole time. The other two unfroze my dad, pointing out to him that I was watching everything. They'd put a hex on me -- I couldn't look away."

"Then the woman whispered into the man's ear. He nodded, and then I saw something begin to stick up in the front of the witch's robe. My dad looked scared, and she hiked her robe up. And there it was." The look in her eyes was less of horror than of fascination and even lust. "Bobbing out in front of her, just above her cunt, was a fully-erect penis. She told him to get on his hands and knees, and then she stood for a few moments over my dad, drinking in the power." For a moment, there was no fear in Desi's voice, but then she seemed to snap back. "But the look on my dad's face -- he was so scared!"

"She fell on top of him quickly, and I could hear her entering him. He tried not to scream, but she was huge," she said, a numb look on her face. "The other man took out his cock and began to masturbate as he watched the witch buttfuck my dad. I could see the woman's ass rocking back and forth under her robes, and it was when I heard my dad start to cry that I made my decision."

"I screamed out to them that if they left my parents alone, I'd let them have me any way they liked."

Nigel's eyes popped open wide, and he could scarcely believe her. In the face of death, she had both bravery and selflessness. Even now the defiance she felt at that moment was written on her face.

"The woman gave my dad a few more strokes before pulling out of him, and moments later all three of them were standing around my chair. They'd frozen my parents again, and I was glad -- at least I wouldn't have to listen to them cry." Desi was beginning to look tired; telling the story was emotionally exhausting. 

"We can take a break if you'd like," said Nigel. 

"I'm okay, thank you," she said, giving his hand a light squeeze. "I wasn't inexperienced. And if it had to happen, I was going to do it my way. And I fucked them good." Nigel noted more than a little bit of pride in her voice. "So good, in fact, that they didn't notice when Dumbledore arrived with five others." Desi smiled. 

"You saved your whole family," said Nigel in admiration. "You should be given a medal."

"Maybe. But that's not the whole story," said Desi, and a dark shadow seemed to cross her face. She released Nigel's hand. "It took them a while to secure the house and sort everything out. They took me upstairs while they talked to my parents, and as I sat on my bed, I got more and more angry." Desi's eyes even now were flashing. "They had come into MY home. Touched MY parents..." 

She took several deep breaths; just enough to keep talking. "I wanted them to pay. I knew they'd go to trial, and probably to Azkaban Prison. But I wanted justice there and then."

"I'd seem them take the Deatheaters into separate rooms for interrogation, and knew that one of them was across the hall from me," she said, her face cunning. "I kept my bedroom door open and waited for my chance. There was one wizard in the hall, acting as a sentry, and Dumbledore and one other were doing the interrogations. Two others were downstairs with my parents, and there was one standing watch outside."

"At last it worked out that the room across the hall was empty. I used a spell to make it sound like someone was running down the stairs, and it worked -- the hall guard went to investigate. As soon as he passed my door, I darted across the hall and into the opposite room."

"I didn't recognize the man. I'd never seen him before. But I'll never forget his face," seethed Desi. "I remembered his eyes -- he was their leader. He had greasy brown, thinning hair and a stubbly complexion. Even magically bound as he was, he was spitting comments at me. 'What are you gonna do, you little slut?' he said. My blood began to rise as I thought about what they'd done. An image flashed in my mind of the witch pounding my father's ass, and my body began to shake."

"I could feel my whole body pulsing. The sensation began to concentrate, gathering from my fingertips and toes, up my arms and legs and down my neck and torso, getting stronger the whole time. Then it was pounding in my gut, which felt like it was stretching downward. The feeling pulsed and itched, and my cunt began to tingle. I fought the urge to work myself with the narrow edge of my hand, and then I felt something growing out of me."

"The Deatheater's eyes went wide with fear. To me, it felt like I was raising a fist in victory, and I looked down to watch as the tip of my new penis was extended outward." Desi's breathing had quickened, and her hand was tapping her thigh. She remained silent for some time, though her face went through a series of subtle contortions. "It took three of them to pull me off of him. Before they could, I took my pleasure of him completely. I felt myself twitch inside him as I released. Even as I slid out of him it kept flowing. Before they turned me away from him, I slapped my cock on his ass and spattered my cum all over his back for good measure."

Now Nigel wasn't sure how he should feel. Was it right of her to take the Deatheater that way? Without being in her place, it was hard to condemn her. He also felt an odd twitch in his own stomach, and realized that he was getting turned on. Desi only noticed the look of concern on his face, and her own expression went to sadness mixed with fear. Nigel knew he had to reassure her.

"You did what you had to do," he said uneasily.

"I know," said Desi. "But what worries me is that, well, I really enjoyed it." Now Nigel had no idea what to say, and Desi began to look genuinely scared. The feeling in Nigel's gut grew larger. "Please don't tell me you think I'm evil. Please don't be afraid." But as Nigel looked at her, there was no doubt in his mind that she was most certainly a good person.

"I'm not afraid," he said, trying not to picture her with a cock dangling between her legs. 

"I am," said Desi, crossing her arms in front of her. Nigel wanted to help her, but all he could think to do was keep her talking.

"Do you think your friends could help you?" he asked. She laughed a bit.

"Them? Like I said before, all they do is take, take, take," she said. "They do help me satisfy some of my...needs. But they're too concerned with themselves and their own self images to help anyone else deal with their problems."

"I'm sorry," said Nigel. "I guess I never supposed people would be like that." Now Desi's laughter came ringing out.

"You really are naive," she said, leaning over and planting a tidy kiss on his forehead. "What I don't understand is someone like you."

"Me? I don't know," said Nigel. "What do you mean?"

"Well, why should you care about me?" said Desi. "Aside from the obvious reasons."

"I just do," answered Nigel. Desi's look told him that that wasn't a good enough answer. And after what she'd just told him, he had no reason to hold anything back. "Okay. Remember when we were in that class together in first year?"

"I remember it very well," said Desi. "I liked you."

"Really? Wow," said Nigel, though looking back it made sense. "Well, I thought the world of you. See, I was always a awkward and clumsy. And most other kids laughed at me, even Hufflepuffs. But not you."

"I guess it was because you didn't talk to me like I was just some dumb pretty girl," said Desi, thinking. "And you helped me a lot in class."

"Yeah, I was always looking for ways to make you happy," said Nigel, immediately regretting he'd said it. But Desi seemed touched by the sentiment. "And I'll never forget that you defended me." The look in Desi's eyes was bittersweet as she remembered the day he was talking about.

"I thought you were mad at me," she said with a disbelieving smile.

"No, not at all," said Nigel. Three second year Slytherins had ganged up on him after class one day, and it was the young Desdemona who had chased them away, leaving one of them with a gap in his teeth.

"Then why didn't you want to talk to me after that?" asked Desi.

"I guess that, at the time, I was embarrassed."

"Because a pretty girl rescued you?"

"No. Because I couldn't defend myself, and you saw it," said Nigel, feeling the shame anew. 

"Hey, now. Not many first years could have escaped that kind of ambush alone."

"Yeah, I know that now," he said. "So I'm sorry that I wasn't a better friend to you. I should have at least thanked you."

"You've more than made up for it today," said Desi, who felt better now than she had since the beginning of the term. It was good to get these things off her chest, and Nigel was just the person she'd needed at that moment. Looking at him, she realized she might sometimes find some other uses for him as well. He really *was* cute. And just how deep did his need to please go? He would be a refreshing change from the others, who were always putting demands on her. She felt her energies rising again, and starting imagining what might be.

Nigel noticed the change in her. There were only subtle differences in the way she sat, the way her eyes appraised him, and the parting of her lips. But the total effect was unmistakable. There was some kind of thick electricity in the air, and Nigel knew it was part of Desi's natural magic. Bumping sounds started to come from the wardrobe, and he was glad to have a reason to pull his eyes away from hers.

"What's going on? Are you doing that?" asked Nigel. The wooden cabinet began rocking erratically. 

"Sort of," said Desi. "Things sometimes just...happen...when I start to get excited."

Just then the doors of the wardrobe flew open, and out tumbled a mass of black cloth. In fact, it was two masses, and they had the shapes of their bodies. "Our robes!" shouted Nigel, amazed. "Are they?..."

"Yes. Fucking."

Desi's robe had positioned itself on top of his own, and began to rock itself back and forth. It was like watching two swirling naked forms, swift and graceful. It turned him on.

"Do you trust me, Nigel?" asked Desi, whose own eyes were fixed on the spectacle of their fornicating robes. Although unsure about what exactly was happening, there was no question in Nigel's mind about Desi. She'd bared her soul to him, and somehow he knew that because of that, her intentions were good.

"Yes. Absolutely."

"Then I need to go over some things with you. Look at me, Nigel," said Desi. The fire was still in her eyes, but she was holding it at bay. Barely. "If you say 'yes' after I tell you I'm finished talking, it means you understand all the things I'm about to tell you. At that point, you will be at my disposal until I decide otherwise. I'm not finished yet, but do you understand so far?"

"Yes," said Nigel as if taking an oath.

"Good," said Desi. Before them, their robes had switched positions, with Nigel's robe now entering Desi's from behind. A drop of spittle traced down from the corner of Desi's mouth, and she continued. "I expect you to do exactly as I tell you. If you experience pleasure, it will because I wish you to feel it. Same for pain." She gave him a serious look, but he didn't waiver. "Anything I do or say will be for my own pleasure. I cannot promise that some of these things will not be cruel. There is nothing I will do that I can not reverse. Still, you will tell me if I reach your limits. You will let me know by saying your own name. I will not think less of you. I'm still not finished, but do you understand?"

"Yes, Desi," said Nigel obediently. Given everything she'd told him about her recent experiences, he knew that she was going to unleash on him, but he was eager to allow her. He knew that it was the greatest intimacy she could share, to act just as she felt, without judgement or recrimination. She'd thought about having a toy like Nigel for some time now, and had played this scenario out hundreds of times in her mind, but no one she'd been close with had ever fit the profile she was looking for. 

"I am choosing you now because I believe that you will fulfill my needs. Not the other way around," continued Desi, whose excitement built each time Nigel agreed to her terms. "I may choose to have you in the future, or I may opt not to take you ever again. Can you handle that?"

While Nigel felt grateful that she might want him right now, he had no illusions about what it meant. He had a need to serve, and she had a hunger to consume. "Yes," he said after these thoughts went by. Desi considered him carefully before going on.

"Good," she said at last. "Before I get your final agreement, I want you to know how much I appreciate the way you listened to me, Nigel. Regardless of whatever else happens in this room, know that I'm grateful for that. Hold onto that thought, no matter what I might do or say." Desi took a deep breath. Was he really ready for this? Or would she quickly break him in two? At this point she had no choice. If she didn't unleash her energies soon, her powers would turn on her own mind. But she could feel how strong he really was. "The next word you say will either be 'yes' or 'no'. If you say 'yes', it will begin. I do not know what will happen next, nor would I tell you if I did. If you say 'no' you are free to leave and I won't hold it against you. I am now finished talking."

Nigel realized it was now up to him, and his stomach leapt. He knew that Desi had told him as much as she was going to, and that saying anything other than "yes" or "no" would be unacceptable. He wondered if he would get in trouble if anyone ever found out -- this couldn't possibly be what Professor Sprout had in mind. Still, he believed that it would help Desi. The Deatheater incident had clearly changed her, even if she'd come to grips with her emotions. But if he could be a "release valve" for her new impulses, maybe she'd be able to get along better in her studies and other parts of her life. And even if he was a little scared, his body was already tingling with excitement. 

But just what might she do that would require reversing? Maybe nothing. She probably just wanted to give him every warning possible, he thought to himself. And she wouldn't do that unless she genuinely wanted his trust.  Nigel realized how big a blow it would be to her if he were to turn her down, and how vulnerable she'd made herself to him. In that moment, he made his decision.

[to conclude in Part 2]