Lust from Within

=Author's Notes:
Welcome to yet another story of my smutty Harry Potter Chronicles, this time around we're doing things a little different, if you're reading on A03 then you'll get the basic story, if you're reading this on Chyoa then you'll have some exclusive content as the story will eventually have slight branching pathways. Also just on a personal note this story is currently my favourite of what I have written.

Warnings: Harry/Hermione (Marriage) Ron/Hermione smut, possession, mind control, explicit sexual content.

It had happened suddenly one morning at precisely 11am, Harry and Hermione had just dropped the kids off at school a few hours before returning home as Ron was to join them for an early lunch. Nothing out of the normal for a basic weekday really. At least it hadn't been until the post had arrived.

Hermione picked up the post and placed it on the table as her husband and Ron continued to talk about quidditch, she didn't notice one of the letters begin to turn black. All of a sudden their worlds shifted and the three occupants of the breakfast table suddenly found themselves transported away.

Hermione gasped as her vision adjusted to the sudden darkness, her fingers tightening instinctively around her wand, which—thankfully—had been tucked into the pocket of her robes. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and something faintly metallic, like old blood. The abrupt silence was unnerving; one moment, the kitchen had been filled with Ron’s booming laughter and Harry’s dry commentary, and now—nothing but the distant rustle of wind through dead leaves.

She spun around, heart pounding, and saw Harry and Ron already on their feet, wands drawn, their expressions mirroring her own shock. Ron’s tall frame loomed in the dimness, his broad shoulders tense, while Harry stood slightly hunched, his sharp green eyes scanning their surroundings with military precision.

“Where the hell are we?” Ron muttered, his deep voice cutting through the eerie quiet.

Hermione swallowed hard. “I don’t know, but we’re not in London anymore.”

Above them, the sky was a murky expanse of black, no stars visible—just an oppressive, endless dark. A chill ran down her spine as she took in the silhouette of a massive, crumbling manor house about a hundred yards away. Its jagged rooftops and broken windows gave it the look of a skeletal beast, half-swallowed by time.

Harry raised his wand first, his jaw set in grim determination. “On three,” he muttered, his voice low and steady. “One… two… three—Apparate!”

Nothing happened.

The air didn’t twist around them. The familiar, gut-wrenching pull of magic tearing them through space never came. It was as if the very laws of magic had been silenced.

Hermione’s breath hitched. “That’s not possible,” she whispered, her fingers flexing around her wand. “Apparition shouldn’t just—stop.”

Ron’s face darkened as he tried next, his deep voice echoing in the unnatural stillness. “Disapparate!”

Again, nothing.

A cold dread settled in Hermione’s stomach. She could feel it now—an oppressive, smothering force pressing against her magic, like invisible hands clamping down on her very essence. “Something’s blocking us,” she said, her voice tight. “Not just anti-Apparition wards—it’s like the magic itself is being… suffocated.”

Harry’s knuckles whitened around his wand. “Then we walk,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The ground beneath them was uneven, cracked earth, patches of sickly yellow grass clinging to life between jagged stones.

Harry took the lead, his thin frame tensed as he moved toward the manor’s looming entrance, wand raised defensively. The crunch of brittle earth beneath their boots was the only sound in the unnatural silence. Hermione stayed close behind him, her fingers brushing against the rough stone of the manor’s outer wall as they approached the arched doorway. The massive double doors stood slightly ajar, as if waiting for them.

“Something’s not right,” Ron muttered, his deep voice reverberating in the stillness. His towering form cast a long shadow as he peered into the darkness beyond the threshold.

Hermione reached out, pressing her palm against the open gap between the doors. The moment her skin made contact, a sharp, electric jolt shot up her arm, forcing her to recoil with a gasp. A faint shimmer rippled through the air—an invisible barrier.

“There’s a ward,” she breathed, shaking out her stinging hand. “A powerful one.”

Harry stepped forward, pressing his own hand against the unseen force. His fingers flexed, testing its resistance. “Feels like the same magic that blocked our Apparition,” he said grimly.

Ron exhaled sharply through his nose, his broad shoulders tensing as he glared at the shimmering barrier. “So, what do we do, then?” he asked, his deep voice edged with frustration. His fingers flexed around his wand, the muscles in his forearms taut beneath his rolled-up sleeves.

Harry ran a hand through his perpetually messy hair, his sharp green eyes flicking between the manor and the oppressive sky. “We can’t stay out here,” he muttered. “If that manor’s magical, there might be a Floo connection we can use to signal the Ministry.” His jaw tightened. “Assuming the wards don’t block that too.”

Hermione bit her lower lip, her fingers absently tracing the vinewood grain of her wand. “It’s our best shot,” she said, her voice steady despite the unease coiling in her stomach. “But we should be careful. Whatever brought us here didn’t do it by accident.”

A gust of wind whistled through the skeletal trees surrounding them, sending a chill down Hermione’s spine. The air smelled stale, like old parchment and something faintly rotten.

Hermione’s grip on her wand tightened as they stepped forward, her boots crunching over the brittle earth. The air was thick with a creeping dread, like unseen eyes tracking their every move. She swallowed hard, her pulse thrumming in her throat. This is a bad idea, she thought, but the words died on her lips as Harry pressed ahead, his lean frame silhouetted against the manor’s looming shadow.

Ron moved beside her, his towering presence an unconscious comfort despite the tension radiating off him. His broad shoulders nearly blocked her view of the decrepit structure ahead, but then—

A ripple passed through the air.

Hermione gasped as the world shifted. The cracked stone walls smoothed over in an instant, the broken windows mending themselves with eerie precision. Rotting wood straightened, warped doors righted themselves, and the once-crumbling facade transformed into a grand, immaculate entrance. Warm golden light spilled from the now-pristine windows, casting long, flickering shadows across the trio.

“What the bloody hell—?” Ron’s deep voice rumbled, his blue eyes wide.

Harry took an instinctive step back, his knuckles white around his wand. “It’s an illusion,” he muttered. “Or—a spell. A bloody strong one.”

Hermione’s stomach twisted. Magic this powerful wasn’t just rare—it was old. Dark, even. She could feel it humming in the air, a suffocating pressure against her skin. The wards weren’t just blocking their magic—they were changing reality itself.

Before she could voice her fear, the massive double doors groaned open on their own, revealing a long, candlelit hallway beyond. The scent of aged parchment and something faintly sweet—like overripe fruit—drifted out.

Ron exhaled sharply, his jaw set. “Trap?”

“Undoubtedly,” Harry said grimly.

Hermione’s fingers twitched toward her wand’s holster. “We should leave. Now.”

Before she could take a step back, an unseen force slammed into them, a relentless pressure that sent the trio stumbling forward. The ground beneath their feet seemed to dissolve, and they were propelled through the entrance like rag dolls. Hermione’s cry was cut short as the massive double doors thundered shut behind them, the sound echoing through the cavernous hallway like a death knell. The air inside was heavy, thick with the scent of decay and something sickly sweet that clung to the back of her throat.

Harry and Ron were already at the doors, their shoulders pressed against the solid wood as they heaved with all their strength. The muscles in Ron’s broad back rippled under his shirt, his face reddening with effort, but the doors didn’t budge. Harry stepped back, his wand flashing in the dim light as he muttered the unlocking charm. The tip of his wand flickered, but there was no response—no click, no creak, nothing. The spell was swallowed by the wood as if it had never been cast at all. His sharp green eyes narrowed, frustration etched into his features. “It’s not working,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Whatever magic is here, it’s not from our world.”

The hallway stretched out before them, the flickering candles casting grotesque shadows on the walls. Hermione could feel the weight of the manor’s gaze upon them, a malevolent presence that watched with cold amusement. The air seemed to vibrate with dark magic, a power so ancient and twisted that it made her skin crawl. She tightened her grip on her wand, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “This isn’t just a trap,” she whispered, her voice trembling despite her efforts to steady it. “This is a prison.

Author's Notes:
Like usual the story will be updated every Monday, and again if you want just a simple point A to point B story then Archive of our Own is your place to read it, if you want a bit of exclusive content with a slightly branching story then again check out the story on Chyoa.