Revenge: The Plan

            Harry was pissed off. He paced around the perimeter of his four poster bed, a frown wrinkling his pale forehead and drawing his eyebrows into an angry V. Ignoring the sounds of his friends celebrating the beginning of the weekend downstairs in the common room, he continued to pace, unwilling to be near other people. He had to think, to figure something out,  so that he could quell his anger.

 

            Harry had just been blown off by Cho, for what seemed like the thousandth time. He liked her a lot, or he had anyway, but frankly, he was getting sick of trying to figure out how her mind worked. What kind of a girlfriend, Harry wondered, always cried around you and wanted to talk about her dead former boyfriend? What kind of girlfriend got mad at you and accused you of cheating for having a platonic female friend?

 

            But, Harry reasoned, Cho wasn’t really his girlfriend. They had only been on a few dates, all of which had ended with Cho running off in tears. They had kissed as well, but nothing more. They didn’t refer to themselves as a couple, though Harry walked Cho to her classes when she wasn’t mad at him. He only wished that Cho had told him what the hell she wanted him to do to win her heart. But now it was too late, and Harry had given up on trying to please her.

 

            He ceased his walking, heaving a sigh of frustration and flung himself into bed. He lay among his discarded robes, having changed into a Muggle shirt and trousers before beginning his silent soliloquy. After tossing and turning angrily for a few minutes, Harry decided that he had to relax. It took all his willpower to control his body enough to relax his muscles. When he was a bit calmer and breathing easily, the fifteen-year-old wizard began to think again.

 

            Whenever he was mad at Cho, Harry would try to think about her beauty. He would envision her hair, soft and smelling of honeysuckle, a brown so dark it appeared black, framing her pale face and elegant features. He would imagine Cho smiling at him, her soft mouth curling up slightly at the sides, doradorable that it seemed as if she were begging for him to kiss the corners of her lips. Then he would think of her gorgeous body, her small but round bust, her slim waist, and the gentle curve of her arse. These thoughts of Cho would always turn out as masturbation fantasies for Harry. He would begin by idly touching himself as he thought of Cho’s body, stroking his erection to full hardness as his feelings intensified. As he masturbated, Harry would imagine the two of them making passionate love. He would climax in his daydream as he came in real life.

 

            But for some reason, as Harry lay in his bed, he was unable to get an erection from thinking of Cho. For the extremely randy teenager that he was, Harry found this quite odd. When he was about to give up on sexually satisfying himself, a disturbing picture came unbidden to his mind. He saw himself shoving a screaming Cho onto a bed and tearing her clothes off. He tied her hands to the bedposts as she wept and begged for him to stop. But Harry’s mental image of himself was merciless, and he roughly pushed his cock into her virgin flesh while she screamed in pain.

 

            The image left as soon as it had come. It left Harry somewhat shaken, and with a familiar tightness in his trousers. He looked down, and sure enough, he had a massive hard-on. He tried to ignore his body’s demands and attempted to make sense of what he had just imagined. Harry soon realized that this was the key to getting back at Cho for all the pain she had put him through. It was harsh, yes, cruel, yes, but it equaled the amount of emotional distress that she had caused him. He would get even with her.

 

            Satisfied, Harry reached up and closed the curtains around his four-poster, then pulled his wand out of his pocket and muttered a silencing charm. He lay back down and got to work on developing a plan while relieving his throbbing erection.