A hysterical laugh bubbled in his throat, followed by a stab of pain in his flank. Again, he survived by a hair's breadth. Again, he would live in fear until her inevitable return. He glanced at the doorway. It was his victory, wasn't it?
He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. Like hell it was.
Keening with effort, he tried to stand, but his legs gave out. He gritted his teeth, grasped his wand, and aimed at a cabinet.
"Accio Pepper-Up."
The cabinet's doors swung ajar, and a vial floated out jerkily, dropping to the ground halfway and rolling the last few feet toward him. He fumbled off the cork and knocked back the potion, shuddering as reinvigorating energy coursed through his limbs. Rising laboriously to his feet, he staggered out into the entrance hall and followed the stench of brimstone like a hunting hound.
By the time he stumbled into the study, Fiamette was standing before an open portal, the scorching wind from the other side ruffling her hair. Her eyes widened at his appearance.
"See you when you least expect it, mongrel," she said over her shoulder and stepped through. "Don't go around spreading your disgusting seed, or I'll be forced to hunt down your offspring as well."
"Not so fast," he snarled, forcing his exhausted legs into motion. Even as the rift began shrinking, he stuck his hand through and grabbed her swishing tail. Gripping tight, he yanked her out.
"Eek!" Falling bum-first on the carpet, she rounded on him furiously, only to be met with a point-blank Confundus Charm. Her head swiveled uncertainly between him and the wavering portal. "Unhand me this instant, barbarian!"
He dragged her away, heedless of her increasingly absurd objections, until the rift vanished along with the suffocating wind. When she made to slash her claws at him, he twisted her tail, and she shrieked, lowering her hands to clutch her buttocks.
Satisfied that he had her under control, he jabbed his wand over his shoulder. "Accio collar!"
A few seconds passed before a smooth metallic ring floated in through the doorway. Before the demoness could regain her wits, he clasped the collar around her neck.
She gasped and sank to the floor, her vicious nails receding and her wings disappearing into her back. Letting go of her tail, he grabbed her by a horn and hauled her, kicking and screaming, across the pockmarked floor until she clung to the doorway for dear life and refused to move further.
"What trickery is this?" she exclaimed. "You dare tamper with my mind?"
Harry sighed; the confusion appeared to be wearing off already. He let go of her horn and bent down to scoop her up in his arms.
"W-what in the name of the Nine Circles are you doing?" Her small fists rained blows on his chest, but the hits barely registered, and she soon gave up, staring at her hands in shock.
Weaving around the craters on the floor, Harry kicked the basement door open and carried her down the stairs. Smokeless oil lamps lit up, illuminating crumbling brick walls along which loomed instruments of torture. He brought Fiamette to a corner, lowered her to the floor, and threaded a chain mortared into the wall through a ring on her collar.
She looked around, her eyes widening as she took in the medieval paraphernalia. "Human... Harry, I'm scared and cold, and this collar hurts so much. Please forgive me, Harry—I promise I'll make it up to you. I'll do anything. Let's talk about this."
He fixed her with a stony stare. "You just tried to murder me. Do you seriously believe that'll work?"
She laughed and reclined against the wall, now appearing perfectly at ease. "It was worth a try—and I would've won, were it not for your abhorrent heritage." Her hand rose to the circlet around her neck, and she hissed, blowing at her reddened fingertips. "Consecrated silver, is it? You've studied."
He scowled. "I had a good incentive."
She smirked. "Well, I'm glad I motivated you to do something productive with your worthless life."
He lifted his wand, feeling a smidgen of dark satisfaction when the smirk was wiped off her face. Aiming at the wound on her shoulder, he chanted one of the more powerful healing spells in his arsenal. She jerked back at first, then stared in wonder as her flesh knitted not even leaving a scar. He repeated the process with her thigh, then wiped the sweat off his brow and shuffled toward the stairs. Sleep sounded good—for about a week if he could help it.
"Showing mercy to an enemy?" she yelled at his retreating back. "Too soft, mortal! You should've killed me as soon as you had the chance!"
He shut the door, blocking out her shouts.
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