Upside Down

1.1

Acrid hookah smoke did little to take the smell of death from my nose. The heat and humidity of the pub covered me like a wet blanket. I leaned back into my chair heavily as I downed another shot of what the bartender had the audacity to call 'whiskey'. I wasn’t of a mind to argue with him; the more I drank the less of an issue it became.

My buzz did little to stop the sigh that escaped me: it came from deep within my chest, leaving me hollow. I didn’t know why I was here. Today had been a total disaster; the team I was supposed to meet? Dead, and on top of that, a recovery team was two days away. I hated waiting. I questioned my motivations for being here: the opportunity to get away from Ginny and the kids had been a siren’s song.

My children’s forlorn faces flashed through my mind as I ordered another drink. The thought of Ginny’s scowl made me order a double. I wasn’t a good father, but I was an even poorer husband.

As I refreshed the cooling charm on the cloth draped around my neck the waitress set my drinks in front of me. The cooling charm was a pleasure. It was also the first bit of magic I’d used since I’d arrived in Egypt. The first drink went down smoothly. I eyed the second one and considered staying my hand to enjoy my buzz, but as soon as the thought crossed my mind, I snorted and downed it just as quickly as the first.

I deserved it. The Goblins had a strict no-magic policy when it came to recovery missions, so that meant no brooms, no portkeys, and since I couldn't find any other means of muggle transport, it also meant that I had to walk.

Today was hell.

I could understand the goblins’ caution but, it didn’t mean I had to like it. I guess that’s why they picked me. I had an understanding of ancient magic that the common wizard didn’t. Modern magic had a nuanced feel to it, a fresh flavor on the tip of your tongue whereas the carved hieroglyphs of the egyptian wizards left my mouth feeling like dirt. Their intent weighed on you as if the ancient sorcerer himself stood behind you, his hand squeezing your shoulder.

I thought about ordering another drink, but I didn’t want the waitress to think I had a problem. I let my eyes roam over the room around me. It seemed the other patrons were of a similar mind as she was; there was a distinct barrier of empty seats surrounding my table.

I gave myself a sniff. The reek of liquor, smoke and sour stench of sweat clouded my nose. That being said, I don’t think I smelled so bad as to warrant the reception the locals were giving me. The uneasy murmur of conversation and the side eye that the others shot me as they talked made me think the reason was much simpler.

I was much too white for my present company. But this wasn’t my first rodeo. I could handle the natives not liking me, just so long as they kept bringing me drinks: I was fine.

The settlement I’d found myself in for the night was distinctly magical; the flying carpet salesman and counterfeit cauldrons in the bazaar down the street before finding the bar had been a sure sign. I’d struggled to find someone who would allow me to use their floo to call into Headquarters. Many had outright denied me, while some attempted to charge me double my daily per diem.

When I’d found this bar, the snaggle-toothed old man behind the counter had known just enough English to tell me, “Paying customers only.” I obliged and bought a drink. Afterwards he'd gestured at a clay pot over top of the fireplace.

I made sure to palm a couple extra pinches and slip it discreetly into my pocket wrapped in a handkerchief, just in case. The drink in my gut had made talking about the carnage I’d just came from much easier. The goblin's 'all business' attitude served to remind me that this really was all just business to them.

I’d been told to hang tight and they’d have someone out here in a couple days. The fact that they wanted to keep me out here spoke volumes. My services weren’t cheap. There was something in that tomb they wanted, and they didn’t care if there was a body count attached to it. The tomb had been interesting. There was certain smell, underneath the rot of bloated bodies. I could almost taste it. It electrified the tip of my tongue with a new flavor, the sensation of promise and peril.

I was in the business of exploration, and contradictory to how Bill Weasley had made it seem when I was younger, tomb raiding wasn’t all glitz and glam. I was born to be on the front line, unraveling curses, dodging dangerous traps, finding unplottable locations. Instead, as I moved my way through Gringotts’ various enterprises, I found that I didn’t get to explore. I was sent in only when they had a problem that someone of my talents could solve. I no longer got to find new locations or track down new leads. I was a problem solver, but the drudgery killed me. And it always seemed to be other people’s problems.

Being competent was both a blessing and a curse.

Despite the bubbling undercurrent of mystery and the urge to go further, I’d left the site after securing the bodies. Did I feel guilty? There were twelve men that wasn’t going home to their families. Meanwhile, I was drowning myself in as much cheap liquor as I could get.

“You look like you could use another.”

I was deep in thought when the stranger spoke. I didn’t like being snuck up on, so I turned my head to give them an unfriendly look. I blearily allowed my eyes to travel up and down the fine figure that stood in front of me. Suddenly I was much less annoyed. Her hair was dark, her skin olive and a deep red tint to her lips that wasn’t natural. She placed two drinks down on the table, and took the chair across from me without waiting for an invite.

She’d been watching me.

Tension crept into my shoulders. Warnings echoed in my mind as I thought back to my early days with the company; loose lips sank ships. Another minute of me just staring at her went by before, she smirked, grabbed my glass and took a sip before passing it back.

“It's not poisoned, I promise,” she said, downing her own drink.

I pulled the glass up and before I allowed it to touch my lips, took a deep sniff. Snape might have been a terrible person, but he had taught me some things.

The ability to identify poisons by smell was one of them.

Finally, I sipped the drink and gave her a mumbled thanks. She didn’t have a drink of her own, so I figured it was only fair to go a drink for a drink. Besides, drinking alone was just depressing.

I motioned for the waitress to come over, and with great reluctance she did. When she got close to the table, her eyes widened when she saw who was sitting with me. There was a brief exchange between the woman and the young girl before starred expectantly at me.


“Whatever—” I paused.


“Helen,” she said, answering my unasked question.


“—whatever Helen is having is on me,” I finished.


There was another rapid fire exchange between the waitress and Helen before she returned with the order. Considering their facial expressions and the amount of discussion going on between the two, I had a feeling that more than a drink order was given.


I chewed my lip as I attempted to figure the woman out without speaking. There was only so much I could read from her body language, but now that our whole introduction had happened, there was a nervousness about her that I picked up on easily.


“Well, you know my name, what’s yours?” she asked.


“Harry. Harry Potter.” I could have kicked myself. In my paranoia, I’d forgotten what it meant to be polite. At the same time I measured her reaction to my name. She made no indication that she recognized me. She sat stoically for a moment, before she tittered a nervous laugh.



I’ve been told my gaze is piercing and disconcerting. I tried to tone it back a little for her, but I couldn’t help what happened naturally. I also had to remember, too, that others didn’t find as much enjoyment ad I did making people feel uncomfortable. I relaxed my gaze a little to inspire some confidence in her, she continued.



“A pleasure, Harry,” she said, finding more courage in her own voice.


“So, why do you think everyone keeps looking at me like dragon dung on the bottom of their boot? I asked, my voice nearly a whisper.



“I would say it's because you’re not the standard customer around these parts. And...“ she hesitated before continuing, “I don’t know how to put this delicately.”


“Don’t worry about hurting my feelings, I’m made of sterner stuff than most,” I said, already knowing the answer.



“You stink,” she said quickly, hiding her nerves with a sip of her drink.


“Yeah, you’re right. I do stink. But I’d have thought that would make me fit in better, if anything.” I said, a smile on my face. She laughed again, like I wanted her to. Even though I’d long decided that my sense of humor was as dead as the mummies in the tombs that I raided.


Her laughter was musical and caused me to lower my guard a little. There was no reason for me to be so paranoid. “And you? I asked, “What brings you to my table when so many others would faint at my stench?”


“I overheard you ordering from the bar. It's not often I hear a familiar accent, and thought I’d investigate. You look like you’ve had a long day.”


“Not even the half of it,” I said, but didn’t continue. There still wasn’t a reason to tell her any more than necessary. Instead, I marvelled at the anonymity that my job afforded me. It was rare that I could go anywhere in Britain without being recognized immediately, here with Helen? I was just another face.


I’d been cataloging ever minor detail I could read from her. Her answers, or rather lack of told me more than anything else. She’d travelled. She was educated somewhere in Britain and if my senses could be trusted, she wasn’t magical.


There had been a lull between us and I watched her fidget, uncomfortable. I wasn’t exactly at ease myself, but I had nothing to lose in this, she was the one that approached me after all.



Finally, she sighed a bit, a rueful smile on her face. “I’m sorry this is so awkward. Let’s start over. Hello, my name’s Helen. Helen Fletcher, and it's a pleasure to meet you Harry.” She held her hand out for me to shake. I reached over, gently giving it a light shake. There wasn’t a single callous to be found and I doubted she’d ever seen a hard days work in her life, much less a wand.



“The feelings mutual Helen. I’m sorry if I’m a bit of a stick in the mud, I didn’t think I’d wind up here today. What brings you out to this fine establishment?”


I’d accepted her attempt to make a better go at conversation. I wasn’t one for having someone just staring at me expectantly.


“Oh, I’m just avoiding the heat and enjoying the cheap drinks,” she said, taking a rather long draw on her own drink then. She’d need another soon.


“I agree, it's quite dreadful out.” I wasn’t one for small talk, but I felt like we were finally getting somewhere. It helped that she was attractive. I fingered my wedding band to remind myself I was married. But couldn’t stop the memories of home from washing over me.


“So, are you from around here, or vacationing?" I asked, again probing for more information. My paranoia had diminished but not entirely, and it wouldn’t be satisfied until I’d asked enough questions to satisfy my curiosity.


She smiled, happy to continue to engage. I watched the way her eyes light up. She was starved for attention, or she’d not been lying when she said she missed the familiar accent. “I just got back off vacation actually, I’m from around here. I live up the street in fact.”


“Oh?”


“Oh yes! I was born here, but we moved away when I was little, if you can’t tell by my accent. I moved back a couple years ago and I’ve loved it ever since. There’s just something magical about the area,” she rambled, her words coming out in a rush.


She was eager to talk about herself. That much was obvious. I continued to puzzle out who she was, utilizing all of my senses. In a room full of magicals, Helen stood out like a sore thumb and there was no way a muggle could just walk off the street and into a magical bar, so: a squib.


Not that there was anything wrong with that. I’d never been one to judge.


I’d gotten distracted piecing together the puzzle that was Helen, so I missed her next question.


“Sorry, could you repeat that? I asked.


“I asked you what brought you to my fine country. Something work related?” She was excited, so her questions were asked rapidly.



“You could say that. I work for Gringotts as a Cursebreaker.” I said and nothing else, not that my vows would let me say more than that.



“That sounds so interesting. Did you go to Hogwarts?” she asked. She’d surprised me by not asking further about my job. That was a point in her favor; it was nice because it meant I didn’t have to be impolite.


“Yes, I did. What do you do for a living, Helen? I asked, not wanting to go into further detail. If she felt slighted by my answer, she didn’t, taking my abrupt response in stride.


“Well, my parents run a multinational company. They hired me to lead their PR division because they have ventures in both the magical and muggle world, and since I’m a squib, I’m better suited for making contact with some of their muggle acquaintances.


There wasn’t a hint of bitterness in her tone then, when she mentioned her parents. That confirmed my feelings of bad blood. The casual way she used the word squib felt oddly forced; a test it would seem. So I ignored it entirely and focused on the rest of her question. Which was easy because I was genuinely interested.


“That sounds like a lot of responsibility.” I said.


“It is. I spend a lot of time in the office, making phone calls and fire calls alike, so it was nice to get out on a vacation, no matter that my parents practically forced it on me. They seem to think they know what’s best for me.’


There it was. I’d been waiting for it. And finally her facade cracked a little. The bitterness in her tone gleamed like a diamond in coal. I’d relaxed enough around her that some of my thoughts must have been evident on my face, she was quick to defend.


“Don’t get me wrong,” she continued, “I love my parents, but ever since I was a child they’ve treated me like I was made of glass. I can’t use magic, that doesn’t mean I’m going to turn to dust.”


She chugged her drink.


I was a curse breaker, not a psychologist. I also didn’t think she required any advice from me. But I was still at a loss on how to continue. She saved me from having to say anything when she sighed deeply and stared morosely into her now empty drink.


“Look at me, one drink and I’ve spilled my guts. Way to go, Helen.”


I’ve never been able to deal with emotional people well. My marriage was proof of that. I genuinely worried for my children and their future. I’d bottled so many things up that my ability to empathize was askew.


I didn’t have parents. Molly and Arthur despite their best efforts could never fill the void that growing up with the Dursleys left me. If I was honest, I was just as bitter, probably more so, as Helen. But that didn’t mean I had to turn this into a pissing contest about whose woes were worse.


“Hey, easy. I know the feeling.” I said, waving my hand to placate her. “My parents died when I was a child, but I can sympathise with people being overprotective.” I finished, thoughts of the Order circling through my mind. Even after all these years the memories remained clear.


I signalled to the waitress to order us both another round; my glass had sat empty for long enough.


Hoping to ease us back onto a smoother topic, I took us back to something she enjoyed talking about. “So, you live here, and you like it here, what is there to do around here? I find myself with a couple days to kill and not a whole lot of knowledge of the area.”


I knew I’d chosen correctly when her eyes lit up. “You must go to the Natural History Museum. It’s the truly the best, Harry. Ancient Egyptian history magical and muggle is so extensive, and the museum here has so many exhibits to look at.”


“Maybe you could take me there?” I asked.


‘Smooth, Potter.’ I thought.


“I’d certainly love to!” she exclaimed, “We can go tomorrow.” Helen said.

“We can work out a time a bit later, I’ve still got plenty of drinking left in me,” I said.


The young waitress from before came back with our drinks, and placed them on the table. She left again quickly. I gave her an exaggerated look when she once again ignored my thanks.


Helen laughed at me. “Don’t mind Natalie. She’s takes a while to warm up to new company.”


“Oh, you know her?” I asked.


“We’re distant cousins.” Her response answered an earlier question I'd had. The familiarity in which the girl spoke to her had clued me into there being something more between them, considering their differing appearances I hadn’t assumed they were family.



“Would you tell me about Hogwarts? Helen asked, her voice timid. She clearly remembered my dismissal of the subject earlier.


I sighed, but spoke anyways. “There isn’t much to say about it. When I went to school there, Dumbledore was our Headmaster and we were embroiled in a civil war. It has some of the fondest and worst memories I’ve ever experienced.”


I watched her face crumple a bit when I talked about the war. Certainly even she’d heard of it.


“Even over here we’ve heard of Lord Voldemort. A terrible person.” She said.


“Great, but terrible, indeed.” I agreed. It was then that I saw a hint of something in her eyes. She’d connected the pieces. I could practically see it screaming into place in the front of her mind.


“Put it together yet?” I asked, amused.


“You’re… you’re Harry Potter. The Chosen One.” she said, lowly. As if trying not to speak too loud. I appreciated her efforts.


“That’s one of my many titles, yes. Though not my favorite.” I let her suffer a bit more before I continued speaking.


"As I was saying: it's the place of some of my fondest memories. There's a giant squid that lives in the lake; the rumor is that it was placed there by Godric Gryffindor himself. There were four founders, and he was one of them. I was also in Gryffindor House. There are magic staircases that change position on the hour, but my favorite thing ever was flying on the quidditch pitch. There’s something about being on a broom, so high up and free.”


“That reminds me of the first time I was ever in an aeroplane,” Helen said, after a pause. "When I was a young girl, I remember looking down from above the clouds and wondering who was looking up. It’s a truly freeing experience.”


I could tell she got it. The joys I had when I was on a broom, looking down on the stadium; the other flyers specks in the distance with the heights I achieved. I didn’t have the time to fly anymore, and I missed it dearly.


We continued to trade memories of our youth and my paranoia faded into a distant memory.


I’d caught myself more than once watching her. There was something about her that drew me in like a moth to flame. Her smile was vibrant and full of life, a mixture of demure and confident. Her words rang with sincerity, the amount of alcohol we’d both drank making it easier, I reciprocated her sincerity with my own.


I enjoyed her candidness.


The sun set low in the sky as our talks continued. I caught her eyeing her watch and making furtive glances at the door. I saw her bite her lip, a question on the tip of her tongue.


“Come back to my flat with me?”


A hundred and one thoughts flashed through my mind; I’d clenched my glass tightly, tipping the glass back and finishing it in one large gulp, the metal of my wedding band dug into the glass.


She’d do the same to me, right?


I slip the ring off my finger with practiced ease and make it vanish, just like magic.





1.2

'Flat' had been a bit of an understatement on her part, I thought to myself as I stepped out of the modern shower. The cool tile on my feet and climate control did wonder for my aches from the day.


There was one thing that muggles did better than wizards, despite one having magic, and that was a shower. Helen’s shower had six shower heads. I was in heaven.


Noticeably cleaner, I used my wand to charm the stink from my clothes. Despite muggle innovation, nothing beat magic when it came to such trivial things. There was some smooth music playing over a sound system by an artist that I couldn’t place, it followed me from the bathroom to the living room.


In the corner of the room was a little sitting area complete with a wet bar, Helen stood there now mixing drinks for the both of us. As I approached her she turned and placed the chilled glass in my hand. She gestured for me to sit, and I did. I let my eyes roam the architecture of the room: the smooth, modern cabinetry, the cool stone countertops and dark flooring complemented Helen’s personality perfectly.


Helen seated herself on the end of the sofa and turned to face me. The dark leather a sharp contrast to the pale fabric of her dress. She’d changed since we arrived at her flat and the fabric clung to the curves of her body, highlighting the swell of her breasts and the fullness of her hips.


“I thought you’d enjoy another drink, a night cap,” Helen said, from beside me. I made no attempt at hiding my appreciation of her form, bringing my eyes up slowly to meet her gaze. The corner of her mouth was turned up into a small smile, her eyes glimmered in the dim light of the room.


I had no intentions of sleeping on the couch, either.


“Thank you,” I said. Bringing the chilled glass to my lips, I downed the smooth, richly flavored liquor within. I didn’t stop until the ball of ice within the glass touched my nose, I was thirsty and it was good whiskey.


Helen’s eyes were wide and staring at me, I cleared my throat a little to ease my embarrassment. I tapped the side of the glass and said, “This is good. Nice and smooth.”


“Would you like another?” asked Helen.


I gave her a sheepish nod, “Please.” I said, handing her my empty glass.


She stood and gave me another opportunity to appreciate her body from the back, I swear she did it on purpose. “You’ve got a nice place here. It’s sometimes easy to forget the things you can do without magic.”



A moment of absolute regret coursed through my body and my face went numb. I’d tried so hard all evening, only for me to now fuck everything up with a simple statement.


Helen laughed loudly throwing her head back from where she stood. It echoed loudly in the expanse of the open living space. “Don’t worry, you didn’t offend me, we’re long past that now, and any issue I might have had in the past is long since dealt with. My parents keep me comfortable, and I don’t want for anything. Why would I need magic when I have this?”


She’d turned, fully facing me now, my drink in her hand. She brought it to me, when she sat down once more on the sofa, she was closer to me. I could feel her presence next to me, against my skin and in my teeth, my face vibrated with anticipation. I felt like a school boy all over again.


I eased myself back into my seat aware of Helen staring at me now. I allowed my eyes to roam the room again as we sat in a peaceful silence, the only sounds in the room the music playing over head and the clink of ice in crystal. My vision swam as I stared at the detailed coffering on the ceiling.


I brought my gaze down to steady myself and focused on Helen instead. She was watching me, her drink resting beside her. Her gaze looked predatory and hungry, it took considerable will to restrain myself from reaching over and pushing the strap of her dress down over her shoulder to reveal more of her olive toned flesh beneath.


She’d shifted her body on the sofa so that she was facing me. Her dress had rode up on her thigh, the pale skin and the delicate edge of her garter causing my throat to constrict further. I struggled to come up with conversation to distract myself.


It wasn’t working.


“Your parents company, what exactly do they do? I asked, my voice pitched higher than I wanted. She shifted so that even more skin was bared to me, her eyes bright with enjoyment.


“They organize a for profit seed bank. They’re responsible for all the grain seed in North Africa. They own a bit of everything, if I’m honest, but that is their primary function, and it extends to both the magical and muggle world. Magicals have to eat too after all, and food just doesn’t come from nowhere.”


“That sounds lucrative.” I said.


And it was. That was a lot of power for one person, or rather a group. They basically controlled the food supply for a lot of people. That was a lot of responsibility. It made me begin to wonder, what would a woman of her caliber want with me? I was Harry Potter, sure, but the size of her pocket book ensured that we didn’t rub shoulders with the same people. I was boring, common. Maybe that was the appeal?


I was dense, but not that dense; there was something more here.


Helen smiled at me. “Yes, quite. But I don’t want to talk about my job anymore. Or about yours. And if I’m honest, I’m bored of this small talk.”



‘Here it comes,’ I thought, listening closely to her now. I’d get my answer sooner than I thought.


“I will admit, I did have ulterior motives in inviting you back to my place.” Helen said.


I think she intended to put me further on guard by talking this way, but if anything, I was calm. My face stoic, except for a raised eyebrow urging her ever further in her reveal. The pause between us extended well past my comfort zone. I’d leaned forward from my comfortable position on the sofa, but before I could rise to my feet, she’d grabbed my hand.


A frisson of electricity tingled up my back. I regretted the dyrness of my mouth, eyeing my drink off to the side fleetingly. Helen pulled my hand onto her thigh. He grip was tight, but she allowed my fingertips to glide beneath the hem of her dress.


We came face to face. The slightest aroma of cherries danced beneath my nose. Alcohol, too. Had she been drinking cherry liqueur?


I sat there, awkwardly, with my hand up her dress, waiting. For what, I didn’t know.


“Kiss me, Harry Potter.” she said.


I didn’t need further urging as I smashed my lips against her own. Our lips fought as my hands roamed her body, I pushed my hand back under her dress bringing my fingers against the dampness of her sex; she was just as excited as I was.


Several minutes of dancing tongues and gnashing teeth later, she pulled back from me after biting my bottom lip.


“I think we would be more comfortable in the bedroom, yes?"


Her cheeks were tinged red and her eyes dark with desire. That hungry look was back in full force as she ground her wet sex against my own throbbing dick. Only the fabric of my boxers between us.


I watched as she delicately let the tip of her tongue move smoothly along her bottom lip. I struggled to speak, my mind tracing her tongue, thinking of how sweet it tasted and the softness of her lips.


I was excited and scared at the same time. I’d not felt this way in a long time. In the end, all I could manage to say was “Please.”


We stumbled our way into her bedroom, our hands roaming each others bodies, I pulled her dress down, she let it pool neatly around her ankles as she practically ripped the buttons off my button up and pushed my unbuttoned pants and boxers down around my ankles.


She worked quick.


Helen pushed me down on the bed, her body resting on top of mine. She wasn’t still for long as she ground her sex into my erect dick again, this time nothing between us -- it was heaven. I couldn’t take the separation much longer, I fought the need to be inside her and thrusting by grabbing her round ass and squeezing tightly.


In a smooth motion I didn’t know I had in me, I’d switched our positions with me on top of her. I watched as her eyes widened as I buried my dick deeply into her, not able to contain myself any longer.


Her pleasured moans lasted well into the night.


—


I awoke to a pounding that I first attributed to my own throbbing head. There was an awful taste in my mouth, almost like Crookshanks had shat in it. It was only when the shouting started that I realized someone was at the door — it sounded urgent.


I groaned, pulling myself up, and grasped around for my wand. I was everready so I quickly found it under my pillow; drunk me had kept a healthy dose of paranoia. I flicked it causing some light to fill the room so I could see better, at the same time, I called over to Helen, trying to rouse her awake.


“You might want to answer that, it sounds like they’re going to beat your door down.” I said, loud enough that it should have woke her, but she didn’t give an indication that she’d heard me. I took her by the shoulder and shook, but found her skin cold to the touch.


“Helen?” I asked again, clarity was slow in coming, but as I scooted closer to her in an attempt to figure out what was going on, it screamed into my brain, burning away any fugue that might have lingered.


The light from my spell shined against the dark, dried blood that covered Helen’s side of the bed. I could see a gash running from behind her ear down. I assumed it ran across her neck, I leapt from the bed, and paying no mind to my nudity, I pushed her flat on her back, my fears confirmed.


She was dead. Deader than dead. Her face was mangled, I couldn't’ even recognize her anymore. On the bits of skin that was unmarred, I could see the smudge of her red lipstick. But that was it. Her eyes were gone, her jaw askew like she’d been hit, and her skin was shredded.


“What the fuck?” I yelled loudly, jumping from the bed.

The shouting from outside stopped then. They’d heard me. Fuck. What was I supposed to do? My heart beat quickly, my tongue was in knots in the back of my throat. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to throw up or scream. I ran my hands through my hair, pulling harshly at the roots. The pain served to clear my mind and calm my nerves.


The sound of splintering wood and calls of ‘Shurta!’ rang through the living room. I could hear glass breaking and furniture being pushed aside as multiple pairs of shoes squeaked against the tile floor.


Immediately a plan formed in my mind. I couldn’t be found here. Those weren’t aurors in the other room, and while I didn’t speak arabic, I did know that word they were shouting meant ‘police.’ That meant guns and other shit I didn’t want to deal with right now.


I was still reeling from Helen’s death, but I’d have to figure that out later. Now, I had to get the fuck out of here. I flicked my wand, and my clothes appeared on my body. My shoes finished lacing themselves as I moved across the room looking for anything that could aid me in my escape. The room was bare other than Helen’s scattered clothes and some decorative furniture.


I nearly slapped myself on the forehead when I remembered one of the most important things about being a wizard. I could just apparate out. They’d be none the wiser. I twirled on the spot, deliberately determined to leave this destination, only to hit a wall.


Anti-apparition jinx. ‘Fuck.’


I stomped around the room then, my mind flying faster than a firebolt. Helen dead? Muggle Police? Magic? This stank of a setup.


I was supposed to be serving Helen breakfast in bed, and maybe a morning shag to go along with it, instead, I was contemplating jumping out of a window like some criminal.


I could hear them ramming the bedroom door now, they weren’t playing around. If I didn’t hurry, I’d be caught; the bedroom door was much thinner than the front door. I had seconds to escape.


Time moved slowly as I enacted my hastily made plan. It was lucky these were muggle police and not aurors, or I wouldn’t have had this much time to prepare. I could smell Helen’s blood in the air now, it caused my stomach to turn. The morning sunlight streamed through the windows on the far wall, and I moved to them.


The windows were perfect if they hadn’t been painted closed. I growled in frustration before tapping my wand against the glass: before my eyes the wood and glass turned to dust. I had but a moment to appreciate my work before the door cracked loudly behind me.


My time was up.


I stepped back to get a run and go, before I threw myself out the window.. The roof of the building next door came faster than I anticipated. In my haste I’d forgotten to slow my descent and I paid for it when my gut was slammed into the parapet, the force of the impact nearly pushing my insides out of my mouth.


I wheezed for breath, my eyes clouded with tears from the impact, the pain unbearable. I’d be feeling this later and for days to come. The yelling above me let me know I didn’t have time to waste. I pulled myself to my feet, slowly, a stumbling run putting distance between me and my pursuers.


I ran from rooftop to rooftop, bounding leaps to a new building now assisted with magic. Eventually I found one with rooftop access, I barely broke stride as I spelled the door open and into the dark. I misjudged the incline, twisted my ankle, and nearly ate shit. I caught myself against the wall and paused just long enough to let my eyes adjust to the darkness.


The dim light from around the door at the bottom of the stairs, helped me judge the distance and save me from any more damage to my ankles. As I approached I heard more arabic and the smells of finely spiced meat. I tried the knob, found it was locked, and so let myself in with my wand.


I burst into the ground floor of a kebabery and stared mutely at the wide-eyed clientele. For a second, only the high-pitched whine of the turning spit broke the silence. Then as I dashed to the door, pandemonium broke loose. An old woman chased me from the store screaming bloody murder and brandishing a bushel of carrots.


I fled into the street, finding it, thankfully, crowded despite the early hours. Shouts echoed down the street behind me, the police were still chasing me, and they were coming my way. I could see pedestrians being pushed left and right, many of them shaking their fist at the passing police.


An alleyway to the right of the kebabery I’d just left gave me enough cover to step in and transfigure my clothes into something I could blend in with. Stepping from the alley way I grabbed a scarf from one of the many stands lining the pavement. The young man running it was too busy trying to impress a girl and was too busy to notice me walking off with his wares.


I looked back and forth, plotting my course, the police were getting closer. The food stalls faced the business fronts along the pavement. Lines pushed out into oncoming pedestrian traffic causing people to travel in groups so they could easily avoid a bottleneck. The line closest to me was much too close to the police, so I walked casually down the street searching for an easy target. I found one, but it was hard to determine where the end began, so I used a confundus charm to ease my way into the middle of the group without pissing ayone off.


My ruse proved successful when a group of four police, made their way past my line. I gave myself a solid ten count before I headed in the opposite direction, hoping to make it back to the magical district as soon as possible.


Despite my original impression, it was clear that this was not entirely a magical community. I could feel the weight of the muggle repelling charms that cordoned the town off into enclaves.

1.3

The sun was high in the sky and the sweat trickling down the small of my back had me seeking refuge indoors. I’d spent all morning searching for the alleyway that led to the bar, and hadn’t managed to find it yet. So I’d stopped in the shade of a rather dirty looking cafe, and was being served by a toothless old woman who poured my tea with enviable flair.


As she mixed it back and forth, I lost myself in my thoughts. I had very few options left to me, I wasn’t authorized to cast a portkey and I didn’t need the Egyptian ministry on my back as well as the muggle police. I needed to clear my name and fast.


I hadn’t killed Helen, but someone had did a great job of cornering me with the charges. I’d arrived here unprepared, not even having brought my trunk. So, with only the transfigured clothes on my back, I’d wandered from alleyway to alleyway until I’d given up and found myself here.


I’d have given anything for a two way mirror or even just access to a fireplace right now.


I leaned back in the chair, giving the tea time to cool, and allowed my eyes to scan the area. Pedestrians danced between each other as they made their ways to their various destinations. Traffic zipped up and down the street in a chaotic pattern that I couldn’t even begin to decipher.


I’d just picked my tea up for a sip when it slipped from between my fingers and crashed to the ground. My eyes were locked on something that made my mind go blank.


Helen.


I blinked and rubbed my eyes vigorously, not believing what I was seeing. ‘It couldn’t be, could it?’ I thought as I leapt from my chair with enough force that it crashed into the table behind me. I dashed to the street edge to better see through all the motorbikes and people walking.


Dark hair, olive skin, and bright red lips. Her dress attire separated her from the others easily, because she was the only woman walking around with her face uncovered.



“Helen!” I called, it drew attention, but what did it matter now?


I watched as she stopped dead in her tracks and turned to face me.


It was her.


Traffic whizzed between us. I growled low in my throat. As much as I wanted to get over there and demand answers, I also didn’t want to get smeared on the tarmac by a lorry driver that wasn’t paying attention.


I watched the natives as they worked their way across the street and decided to imitate them. That was, I walked into traffic blindly after saying a silent prayer to whoever was listening and holding my hand out in a stopping motion.


Just like magic, it worked. By the time I made it across the street, Helen was gone. I ripped the scarf from my face and threw it to the ground.


I glanced up and down the street, hoping for a glimpse, for anything. I thought I saw the tail of her dress disappear down an alley and I hastened my steps in that direction as I chased after her.


As I stepped into the alley, the sounds of traffic and chattering pedestrians were left behind like a fever dream. I was back in civilization, or at least, somewhere magical.


Multi-colored cloth fluttered in a phantom breeze, casting shade on gnarled old men and women hawking wares. I saw a glimpse of olive skin as Helen cut into a tent at the end of the alley. Along the way I saw the bar from the night before. I was in familiar territory at least.


Out of nowhere came the elderly barman from last night, finger jabbing into my face. He was talking so fast, and slurring so much, that my translation charm was struggling to keep up.


"You!" he exclaimed and made an ineffectual attempt at pulling me into a headlock.


Despite my injuries, I had several decades and several stone to my advantage. I held him at arm's reach.


"What's your problem?"


"You killed my daughter!" he screamed. People were beginning to stare.

"Helen is your daughter?"


I was baffled. I hadn't killed anyone, and besides, hadn't she told me they were rich multinationals?


“Helen is your daughter?”


“No, you bastard. Natalie! Natalie is dead, and I blame you. I told her not to go after you last night, and what does she do? She runs off, thinking she’s going to save you.”


He was rambling now, bent at the middle, hands on his knees and his words turned to indecipherable muttering.


Meanwhile, my mind was spinning. Natalie’s name surprised me, I’d never expected to hear it again. Save me? What was this drunk old bastard talking about?


He was standing now, I grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and leaned in. I could smell the stench of alcohol on his breath, making my stomach roll. “What was Natalie supposed to be saving me from?” I asked, in an effort to keep things simple.


“Undead.” He said. I made sure I could hear him again.


“Speak clearly, man!” I said, as I shook him hard, causing his eyes to snap up to mine.


He spoke again, and this time, the translation charm picked up on what I’d mistook as ‘Undead’ before.


“Vampire. She went to warn you about the vampire.”


—


It’d been a long time since I felt so lost.


The feeling was foreign, so acute I could count on one hand the number of times I’d felt this way in the past. My thoughts were spiraling. Panic because someone was targeting me and I didn’t know why. Anger and confusion because I kept trying to rationalise the woman I’d met last night, Helen, was a lie. The fear was secondary and I easily swallowed it down. It was a healthy reaction when dealing with the unknown. It kept even the most seasoned wizard alive.


“Vampire.” The old man's words echoed through my head.


I racked my brain trying to think how I’d come under a Vampire’s gaze. Contrary to popular belief, they didn’t just seek out random targets. Rather, wizards were never picked at random.


Helen had been good at what she did. I thought back to the night before” the moment when I’d bought into her story. Her bitterness at her parents had felt so genuine. The undercurrent of allure I’d felt when she’d said all the right things, I should have known it was too good to be true. Now, all I felt was regret. I’d thought it’d make me feel better. Ginny had done the same thing, but I didn't expect to feel like such a shit in the end.


And now, someone’s child was dead. Natalie was gone, because of my actions, her father would never see her again. It made me think about my own children, and in that moment it made me miss being home.


I clenched my fist tightly as I resolved myself to making it through, if only to see their faces again. I needed answers; I needed to find Helen — she’d given me the slip, by the time I’d made it to the tent she was already long gone. I’d left the old man in the bar, slumped at the counter, too drunk to carry a coherent conversation. He was useless to me now, but later, his story would serve purpose.


I needed to tell the Goblins what was going on, let them know who to talk to first in order to clear my name. As much as I didn’t want to tell them everything, they’d need to know what was going on so this mess I found myself in could be cleaned up.


Then I could track down that bastard vampire and give them a piece of my mind.


When I stepped into the bar, it was to absolute silence. The old man had stopped sobbing, and was instead slumped over the bar as if he’d fallen asleep: passed out was more likely. I’d intended to make a fire call, but the thought of a nice stiff drink drew me toward the bar and his slumped form. Nearly on top of him, my foot slipped.


I threw my hands out to steady myself, turning my gaze downwards to see what I’d slipped in.


Blood.


“Not again.” I said, with a resigned sigh.


I didn’t need confirmation to know who the blood belonged to. Instead, I turned on my heel after cleaning the blood off the bottom of my shoe, and exited the premises with haste.


I’d made it maybe ten meters out of the alley, every step I took, I glanced over my shoulder. The more distance I could put between me and the bar the better. It’d be the cherry on a shit sundae for something else to happen now.


Almost as if it had been foretold, the moment I let my vigil rest, I felt a hand clamp onto my shoulder tightly. The strength contained in the grip brooked no argument.


“Eyes forward. Don’t look back, and don’t make a scene.” said a familiar voice.


Good, I wouldn’t have hunt her down after all. Her hand squeezed tightly on my shoulder again, a reminder of who was in control. I nodded my head, I had no reason not to comply. As we walked across the road, she moved to walk beside me — to anyone watching, we looked like a young couple in love — and we were ignored.


We made it across the street and she forced me into another dark alley. This one wasn’t magical at all. The stench of garbage and the scurrying rats proof of that.


When her hand left my shoulder, I turned, ready for a fight. I’d had enough of these games, and I wanted answers. Before I could even open my mouth, Helen backhanded me, her strike heavy like a sack of bricks across the jaw.


I staggered back, off guard.


She struck me again, and my vision swam. I tripped over some debris on the ground and fell prone, back to the ground.


She stood over me, her eyes manic and her teeth sharp and gleaming. I was the rat, and I’d fallen in to her trap.


She pushed something over my face, a cloth, reflexively I gasped for breath, and whatever narcotic smeared on the cloth did its job. As my vision faded, I heard Helen’s voice as if from a distance.


“We need to talk.”




1.4

The worst part about being knocked out is waking up. I came to feeling like my chest had been kicked repeatedly while someone else held my nose and mouth shut. I coughed violently as my gasps were rewarded with lungfuls of stale air.


I turned my face into a soft surface. I’d not been left on the floor, but instead, a very uncomfortable cot. The blankets and pillow indicated that it was well used.



The room was small, and dimly lit by small floating brasiers above. They cast more shadows than light, but even in the dimness I could just make out the fine edges of carved hieroglyphs came into focus as my eyes adjusted further.


The irony of Helen using a tomb as hideout didn’t make me feel any better, this entire journey had started there, it was only fitting it would end in one. I patted myself for my wand.


No dice.


She must have taken it from me after she’d manhandled me, that was smart. I let myself sag back into the thin mattress with a sigh and let my thoughts consume me. There was little I could do but wait, my escape was unlikely; there were no windows, and the only door I could see was covered by a blanket. I had no idea what was on the other side, and with the way I felt I wasn’t eager to find out.


As I lay there, I pieced together what I knew. I’d not had so much time before to connect the dots, hadn’t even been sure there were any to connect, if I was honest. But things were starting to become clearer.


I was being set up. The barkeep had confirmed that. His daughter had come to warn me. So that meant some time between when I was showering and when I’d stepped out into the living room, Helen murdered her.


I had to give it to her, she worked quick. But that also meant she had a reason for wanting me here, when she could have killed me as easily as she had Natalie.


I’d eat my left shoe if my hunch was proven wrong.


At some point in my thinking, I’d dozed off — getting your ass beat was tiring stuff. I woke from my light sleep to the sound of footsteps as they padded along the rough stone floor, I kept my eyes closed, mostly to buy myself more time, casting all of my senses out to see what came back. I felt nothing, but I could tell by the shift in the whine of silence in my ears that someone was standing over top of me.


“I know you’re awake Harry.”


I cracked an eye and looked up at her, she was close to me, peering at my face. I resisted the urge to grab her by the head and smash it into whatever was closest. She’d lost a bit of the crazed gleam in her eye from earlier, but I could tell there was an undercurrent of something there, I just couldn’t quite place my finger on it. I knew better than to let my guard down now, fool me once and all that.


There was a clatter of wood on stone as she dropped my wand beside me. I reached to pick it up, my movements restrained, non-threatening.


“You can heal yourself. I’ve never been good at that bit of magic.”


The warmth seeping into my arm from my wand was comforting, so was having something to defend myself with. As I healed myself, the full impact of what she’d just said clicked into my mind.


‘Never been good at healing magic.’ That didn’t make sense. She’d told me she was a squib. It was the only thing I hadn’t doubted; I couldn’t feel a bit of magic from her.


She pulled a wand from her pocket and transfigured the cot into a seating for two. My assumption had been wrong. Not good at healing magic, but decent at transfiguration. Warily, I began casting healing chams on myself. I wasn’t good at healing magic either, but it was serviceable, and I could at least move now without my stomach and chest revolting.


“Why do you feel like a squib?” I asked There was no reason to be delicate about things now. I wanted answers.


“There are certain benefits of my master’s protection. Being undetectable to other magicals is one.”


“So you cast the anti-apparition jinx on your apartment,” I asked, her nod of yes confirming what I’d already known.


“Please, have a seat Harry,” she said, gesturing at the empty seat across from her.


I turned over in my mind some more thoughts. The old man had called her a vampire. But she wasn’t any vampire I was familiar with. She lacked some of the noticeable traits. Notable, a cold disposition and a thirst for blood.


She was something else.


When I’d seated myself she clasped her hands together and smiled. There was nothing warm there, it was all predator appeal and sharp angels. The cat that ate the canary. I could feel her eyes on me, weighing me up in a way she’d not done the night before.


Her smile widened even further. She was pleased.


“So, Harry, I’m sorry for lying, but I had my reasons for getting you here and I wasn’t sure you’d hear me out.”


“Well, I’m here, I’m listening,” I said with a snort.


Lying was a delicate way of explaining away the complete bullshit of the night before. I wasn’t sure what I was more mad at. Myself for buying into it, or the fact that the Helen I knew wasn’t the Helen here now. I’d fallen for the dark haired beauty from the night before, shy, but certain of what she wanted.


“Harry, from the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were the one.” I saw a shadow of the nervous girl from last night, before it was quickly smothered. “I’ve waited years for this. Years. And then I found you.”


“How?” I asked.


“At the tomb, here. You walked in from the desert and stole my heart. My master wanted me to kill you, but I’ve been alone for centuries. I fought for the right to have you as my own—” she kept talking but I’d tuned her out.


I had to, or I’d say something. I belonged to no one, and I didn’t take kindly to her talking about me like I was a piece of meat. She had provided me with some clues. There was someone else, her ‘master.’ It also confirmed the fates of my coworkers.


She’d killed them.


“ —and that’s where we stand. I’d like you to spend eternity with me Harry.”


“How do you propose we spend eternity together, Helen, when I don’t even know who the fuck you are?”


“I apologized for lying Harry, please don’t hold that against me. You can’t deny that there was a connection between u— “ I held up my hand stopping her.


“There was a connection between me and the cautiously bold but attractive woman that invited herself to my table. You,” I pointed at her, “I have no idea who the fuck you are.”


My words agitated her, the way she fidgeted back and forth in her chair made me think she was going to leap from it and start pacing. It wasn’t my fault she hadn’t thought these things through — If she thought I could ignore all the shit that’d brought me here, all the shit she’d done, she was crazier than I’d thought.


But maybe that was the answer to all of this. She was crazier than I thought. Certifiably fucking insane, actually. Because she was a ghoul. They were insanely strong and possessed a poisonous bite.


I let my gaze cut through her, as things started making sense. She couldn’t take it, and she stood, wringing her hands in her dress as she tried to hide her panic.


“You’re tired, that’s all. You’re not thinking straight.”


“I know what you are, Helen. A ghoul. It makes a lot of sense now. You’re fucking crazy, because you can’t be anything else.”


“I’m not crazy!” she shouted, her voice echoing loudly in the small room. She didn’t like being called crazy, my words enough to bring a promise of pain to her eyes and an abrupt stillness to her agitated form. She looked ready to fight.


Good, I was itching for one.


I withdrew my wand, and I saw her eyes widen. She’d forgotten she’d given it to me. It served to make her cautious, but just barely.


“I can’t believe I let you fool me. A fucking ghoul. You’re nothing more than a vampire groupie — chosen for your gullibility and the fact that no one’s going to miss you — you fucking crazy bitch.”


I could tell instantly the moment I’d won.


I stepped left and easily dodged her charge, I brought my wand to bare, a overpowered banishing charm at the tip. I took no small amount of pleasure watching as she was stopped mid charge and thrown forcefully against the solid stone of the wall behind her.


My victory felt like it’d been stolen from me, it only took one spell to render her unconcious. It was anti-climatic. I could feel my heart beat thrum in my ears. I waited half a beat for her to stand again, when she didn’t I left her laying. I stepped into the next room, ready to face my next challenge. Her master still needed to be dealt with.


In sharp contrast to the room I’d woke up in, this room, no, this chamber, stood as a testament to the riches and splendor of times long past. The walls hummed with magic, and in center of the room on a raised dais rested a crypt.


Typically, vampires never came out until night time, but there was no sunlight here. I had to hope I’d caught it sleeping. This room was brighter, there were considerably more braisers filled with light — the glitter of all the gold helped, making the room that much more opulent.


I heard bare feet padding on rough stone from behind me, I turned again, expecting Helen. She was knocked out, but I couldn’t be certain for how long. There was no one there, the light from the brightly lit chamber made the roughly fashioned curtain look like it moved in a breeze, which I knew was impossible. It was just my eyes playing tricks on me.


I turned back to the crypt, unable to stop the startled yell that ripped itself from my throat.


Before me stood the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. She stood arms akimbo, an incredulous look on her finely formed brow, but otherwise made no other show of her intent.


A monster wearing the skin of a woman, but no matter what, she could never escape the taint of her inhumanity. I could still hear my heart in my ears, it beat faster now, as my mind supplied me with all the consequences of if I was to fail.


Vampires preyed on the weak, the defenseless and the destitute. I couldn’t let her leave here, for all the Natalies to come, the sake of my children, and for the sake of the children in the village outside the tomb.


No one should have to face this horror.


“Fuck you!” I snarled, flinging a firespell at her, every bone in my body wanting to burn the smirk from that bitches face. I bottled my annoyance at how quickly she moved.


I brought one of the braiser’s above loose from its hangings, it fell faster than she could react.


Hot embers showered her, leaving blisters and char along her skin where ever they touched. I took advantage of her distraction and cast Impedmentia to slow her down, I was lucky the spell struck, because if her next charge had connected, I would have surely been decapitated.


I put distance between us again, she struggled to right herself under the effects of my spell as heat waves danced in the air as anything flammable was on fire around us. I was soaked in sweat.


I prepared my next spell, now that she’d been slowed down, this would be more effective, while also giving me the range I needed. The hot fire of my flame whip coiled on the floor behind me as I invited her next charge.


Who would move first, the monster or me?


She shifted, and I forced myself not to blink as I brought the whip around. In her slowed state I managed to catch her ankle, the white hot whip searing through and cauterizing it in one smooth motion. Her wails were music to my ears, her beautiful face transformed into a mask of gnashing teeth.


I flicked my wand again for the next strike, this one a lethal blow. I wasn’t one to let wounded animals suffer— before I could finish, I was tackled forcefully from the side. I screamed as teeth tore into my shoulder and my neck.


I let my flame whip die, and pointed my wand blindly towards my attacker, the spell forced the razor sharp teeth and jaws away, tearing through my shoulder as they went.


Helen’s beautiful face was no more, her fine red lipstick looked obscene on lips stretched thin across a wide gaping mouth, all pointed black teeth and forked tongue. With a twist of my wand, a circle of flame sprang up separating me from Helen and her master.


Blood ran down my arm and pooled in my hand and around my wand. I was bleeding, badly. Each thud of my heart forcing more of it out of my body. I could see them preparing to overwhelm me. My fire barrier wouldn’t last for long, and neither would I. A ghoul's bite was invariably lethal; I could already feel her poison in my veins.


My eyes narrowed, resolve I didn’t know I had trickled in fortifying my body. Even if I didn’t make it out of here, I fully intended to take those two to hell with me. I was as certain of that as I was of my own demise.



I dropped the barrier spell, another spell already on the tip of my tongue.


Malus Ignis!


I let all of my anger and desperation give life to the spell. A serpent composed entirely of dark red flame erupted from my wand and was on them before they could even show their surprise.


The heat from my spell was so vicious it didn’t even give them time to wail as their bodies were turned near instantly to ash. I watched as the spell circled the room I was in, turning everything it touched into molten slag.


I basked in the heat and the satisfaction that I’d done something right, that this fucked up journey I’d been on was now at an end. I let my wand drop, breaking my connection with the fiendfyre.


As my connection broke, the fiery serpent began to form a ring around me like an ouroboros.


Expecto Patronum. I cast one last spell.


My silver stag companion appeared beside me in a burst of light. The feelings of hope it brought let me know that I’d made the right choice. “Ginny, I’m sorry. I love you and the kids, always.”


My patronus flashed away from me then, carrying my last message and my hope to those that I loved. I fell to my needs, the burden of the blood loss and the poison in my body too much. Already, I could feel as each breath was more shallow as my lungs gave up the struggle.


I coughed once, and then eyed the malicious fire around me.


“Do it then,” I said, and the fire responded like it’d been waiting for my permission all along.


I knew peace then, as the fire consumed me.

 

I liked this.

I mean what more is there to say? The setup is great. The atmosphere and general vibe are evocative. The characters are great - Harry and Helen having their little seduction? UNF. If only all smut were written this well. It's easily top tier even if I were just judging based on that scene alone.

The technical writing I have no complaints with. There's a solid grasp of the fundamentals here, and while not aligned with my personal minimal style, I'm conscious that it works well enough here. Any gripes I have I'd say are more stylistic in nature rather than anything wrong with the piece itself, and would probably serve to weaken the distinctive style and tone of this piece to its detriment.

The switch with Helen turning out to be the vampire took me by surprise, at first, but I quite liked it. It would explain why the stench of death and all that didn't really deter her from approaching Harry. I liked the mystery, the cloak and daggers, the way the story was developing. Vampires being an integral plot point? Ancient magics? Yes please.

And then you spring the ending on us and I was just crushed with disappointment. Don't get me wrong, this is still probably the best entry this competition (with 4 being a close second), the writing is solid, but I just feel like the ending came out of nowhere. The introduction of a nameless master vampire was a poor choice, over just keeping Helen as the one in charge. Helen's sudden 180 into a psycho-stalker chick was just jarring and while it makes a certain amount of sense, it just feels like you were setting this story up for a different direction, got tired halfway, and came up with this compromise?

Harry's offhand mention to Ginny at the end of it also struck me as pretty weird given what I've seen of their relationship here. Felt out of character.

So yeah I liked 3/4ths of this, and the ending kinda made me sad. Would read the hell out of a story that continued from where scene 3 left of with 4 excised.

TLDR, you write good words. More lewd plz.

 

The beginning and end of this story is told from two different perspectives. There is the beginning which is formulated to show the type of person Harry is, and also is set to introduce us to some of the cast that we see later. I like the Harry that was created here, objectively this is probably the best thing about the story. There are bits of introspection that approach 'feeling human."

Biggest issue is that the middle and end of this are set for a different story. They're rushed, the pacing isn't as tight as the beginning and I feel like the characters established at the start are lost entirely. Harry's perspective is what sold this story. The understanding of his own limitations, his own desires, and his understanding of self are lost in the latter parts. It goes from something thats "In my feelings." to bang them up action adventure, gotta get out of this.

The fact that Helen wasn't a vampire, but instead a ghoul is a bit heavy handed. There is the idea that if Helen had been the vampire all along that Harry would have noticed the unnaturalness a lot sooner, but the biggest thing you forget about this is the fact that magic is real and there is a potential that vampires cannot do magic. Their inhumanity comes at a cost.

The nameless vampire was shoehorned in to add conflict to an already weird fucking adventure. Helen is there, and you try and show that she's crazy because she's a ghoul but I don't think that it was executed all that well, you could have spent more time on crafting a more logical middle and end and cut the fact on unnecessary segments. The reveal with Natalie feel a bit flat, and while I know the intention, I felt like that could have been handled better. The subsequent death and then his capture by Helen felt rushed and forced.

The talk they have at the beginning of the end goes on for too long and I don't think it achieved what you wanted it to. There is a sense that you're trying to tell everyone what they should have realized by now instead of just revealing it organically throughout the story, its a rather poor attempt at mystery.

 

Looks like a jaded Harry who wants to get away from his wife and kids? Meh, not my favorite characterization, but that's very much a personal thing.

I could understand the goblins’ caution but, it didn’t mean I had to like it. I guess that’s why they picked me. I had an understanding of ancient magic that the common wizard didn’t. Modern magic had a nuanced feel to it, a fresh flavor on the tip of your tongue whereas the carved hieroglyphs of the egyptian wizards left my mouth feeling like dirt. Their intent weighed on you as if the ancient sorcerer himself stood behind you, his hand squeezing your shoulder.​

I like that. Already setting up for a neat story, what with the concept above and the information that Goblins want no magic used at all. Presumably because it can screw with ancient magics. Neat.

This Harry is interesting. Seems that he's gotten a job like Bill's, but on a contractual basis since he mentions only being called in to solve problems. Seems like something fun, but given his childhood I can empathize with Harry wishing he still got to do more exploring and investigating. He was good at those too, etc. Fun set-up for the story.

For some reason I like the fact that Harry, well, stinks. And it's keeping other patrons from wanting to be near him. Something about that and his dismissal of it amuses me. Maybe that it's unique?

And I find myself interested in Helen. Moreso since Harry pointed out that she stood out like a sore thumb without magic but yet had wandered into a magical bar. My guess at this point is vampire, even if she says squib, but only because I know this story has to feature them at some point.

I admit, I'm enjoying this story. You're nailing the sense of casual along with the sense of lore and plot and mystery. Also, hell yeah, six shower heads FTW.

Not to mention that for once the seduction aspect of this story isn't completely frustrating to me - I think it's because I suspect she really is manipulating Harry somehow, and he really doesn't know how, and that... is so much more interesting that it either being (1) what it appears on the surface, or (2) Harry being so badass that he knew what was off all along...

...and holy shit, I got chills at finding her dead in his bed all casual like that. Good fucking job. Timing, too, with the person at the door and Harry yelling and them hearing him and... yeah, great pacing.

I stomped around the room then, my mind flying faster than a firebolt. Helen dead? Muggle Police? Magic? This stank of a setup.

I was supposed to be serving Helen breakfast in bed, and maybe a morning shag to go along with it, instead, I was contemplating jumping out of a window like some criminal. ​

Awesome.

Once he was out though, and running, and transfigured his clothes... couldn't he have apparated then? But I Suppose that's a nitpick. It's easy enough to assume that he still can't as a reader, but I did wonder. Quite possible he never got far enough away.

Am I supposed to know who Natalie is? It seems like I wouldn't need to, if she was just the person who followed Harry to warn him and got killed for her trouble, but... Harry said he'd never expected to hear her name again. That implies that he knows her, which confuses me because it doesn't seem like he does.

And this entire thing is made more interesting by the fact that Harry is there on the Goblin's dime and still might have something to do for them. Without that external aspect to the current mystery/plot the story would feel a lot weaker. Good job on twisting two plots together, especially as I suspect they'll merge in the end and relate back to each other.

“I apologized for lying Harry, please don’t hold that against me. You can’t deny that there was a connection between u— “ I held up my hand stopping her.

“There was a connection between me and the cautiously bold but attractive woman that invited herself to my table. You,” I pointed at her, “I have no idea who the fuck you are.”​

Really liked that above exchange. Well done. Though... it did occur to me that Ginny might pop up into Harry's thoughts at this point, since he's technically already taken. Even if he's not fond of Ginny at the moment. Though it'd be stupid of Harry to mention that, as it would probably just send Helen flying off to murder the competition and Harry wouldn't want that.

Is she a ghoul or a vampire? I think a ghoul, and then the super beautiful appearing woman is the vampire...

Wait, what? The story is over?

Huh, okay, so... thoughts on the ending.

I like that while this Harry is incredibly strong, he's not overpowered. He lost. He spends his last breath saying goodbye to his family and then burns the place to the ground, taking himself with it. He feels like a person instead of a caricature of a badass that so many people write him as in these types of stories.

But I wanted to know what the hell was up with the Goblins. You started with that and I fully expected that to come up at the end. Honestly I'd have guessed that whatever the Goblins were looking for would be in this place that Harry was taken to, with the vampire, and it would be ironic that he'd have found it for them but have to destroy it (and himself). As it is I feel a little cheated despite how much I enjoyed the story overall.

Any reason you can't add that? Just a paragraph near the end, with Harry seeing something and realizing it's what the Goblins probably wanted to begin with? Would tie off the other plot line nicely, imo.

But great story. I'm always impressed when an author manages to incorporate seduction/sex/romance/whatever without it pissing me off. Thanks for writing.