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Summary
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Harry Potter is dead.
Killed by the mortification of his own actions.
That is what the Prophet is going to be printing in big bold letters tomorrow. Harry was sure of it.
“I mean it, Ginny. He pulled my hair so hard and wouldn’t back down. Most of his cock was down my throat and I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t move. The only thing that kept me going was his grunts and the way he was looking down at me. Like he wanted to sink his teeth into me and tear me apart.”
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Series
- Part 7 of Stories
