Alisa met his gaze steadily. "I would never do anything to harm them."
"I believe you." Dumbledore inclined his head. "Which is why I'm comfortable allowing them to assist you, within reason. But please, Miss Alisa—be careful and remain true to yourself."
Alisa's hands clenched into fists. "I'm not going to lose control."
"I've not said anything of the sort," Dumbledore said quickly. "You are strong, Miss Alisa. One of the Seven. But even the strongest can be worn down by constant pressure. Don't be afraid to ask for help when you need it."
Something about his tone—the understanding in it, the lack of judgment—made Alisa's throat tight.
"I'll try," she said quietly.
"That's all any of us can do." Dumbledore stood, moving to one of his many bookshelves. He pulled down a leather-bound volume and handed it to Alisa. "This may help with your investigation. It contains records of demon summonings in Britain over the past decade, including patterns and known practitioners."
Alisa took the book. "Thank you. For everything."
"You are welcome." Dumbledore walked her to the door. "And Alisa? If the burden becomes too great—if the curse threatens to overwhelm you—come to me. I may not be able to break it, but I can help ensure you don't face it alone."
Alisa nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Although she was certain that it'd never come to that.
As she descended the spiral staircase, she felt a little lighter somehow.
The rest of the afternoon passed in relative calm.
Alisa retreated to her room and dove into Dumbledore's book, cross-referencing demon types with known summoning techniques. She made notes, drew diagrams, tried to ignore her hardened dick.
Not yet, she told herself. It's only been a day. I can last longer than this.
But her body disagreed. By evening, her dick was full hard in her trousers, aching with need. Every movement sent sparks of want through her nerves.
Fuck.
A knock at the door made her jump.
"It's me," Tonks called. "Can I come in?"
Alisa hesitated, then opened the door.
Tonks slipped inside, took one look at Alisa's face, and smiled knowingly. "That good, huh?"
"It's manageable," Alisa lied.
"Right." Tonks crossed the room and pushed Alisa back onto the bed. "Which is why you're white-knuckling the desk and breathing like you've run a marathon."
"I'm fine—"
"You're horny as hell and fighting it for no good reason." Tonks straddled her hips, hands coming up to cup Alisa's face. "Let me help."
Alisa's resistance crumbled. "Tonks..."
"That's not a no." Tonks leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "Let go, Alisa. You don't have to fight this alone."
And god help her, Alisa didn't want to fight anymore.
She kissed Tonks back, hard and desperate, and let the arousal finally have its way.
Later—much later—they lay tangled together in the sheets, both breathing hard.
"Better?" Tonks asked, tracing idle patterns on Alisa's stomach.
"Much." Alisa's mind felt clearer again, and the pressure eased. "Thank you."
"Anytime." Tonks was quiet for a moment. "I talked to Harry today. In Hogsmeade."
Alisa tensed. "I noticed."
"Don't be mad," Tonks said quickly. "I didn't tell him everything. Just... planted seeds. Made him think."
"About what?"
"About helping people. About consent and choice. About how sometimes the right thing isn't the conventional thing." Tonks propped herself up on one elbow. "I didn't mention you specifically. But I think he understood what I was getting at."
Alisa closed her eyes. "Tonks, we can't—"
"I'm not saying we do anything now," Tonks interrupted. "I'm just saying... the option is there. If and when you're ready. If and when he's ready."
"He's a student."
"He's also seventeen, legal, and more experienced with danger than most adults." Tonks' hand moved to Alisa's shoulder, squeezing gently. "I'm not pushing. I'm just... keeping the door open. In case you want it."
Alisa wanted to argue. Wanted to say it was wrong, impossible, that she'd never even consider it.
But the memory of Harry's blush made her dick twitch with interest, even now. And she had come three times already.
"I need to focus on finding the summoner," she said instead. "Everything else can wait."
"Fair enough." Tonks settled back down, her head on Alisa's shoulder. "For what it's worth, Dumbledore gave me a very pointed lecture about appropriate behaviour earlier."
"He did the same to me."
"Figured." Tonks yawned. "Old man knows everything, I swear. That or McGonagall must have snitched"
Alisa nodded tiredly.
"He offered to help me. Said he understood what it's like to carry burdens in silence." Alisa stared at the ceiling. "I think he meant it."
"Of course he did. Dumbledore's many things, but he's not a liar," Tonks said and snuggled closer. Alisa could have kissed her.
In fact, that's exactly what she did.
"Mhh, what was that for?" Tonk asked with a smile.
"Nothing," Alisa said, too quickly.
"Yeah. Sure," purred Tonks.
Across the castle, in Gryffindor Tower, Harry Potter lay awake in his four-poster bed.
His mind kept replaying Tonks' words from that morning.
"Sometimes people need help in ways that aren't conventional. And sometimes the brave thing is to offer that help, even when it's complicated."
She'd been talking about curse victims. About the toll that magical afflictions could take. About how consent and choice mattered more than arbitrary rules or general opinion.
She hadn't mentioned Alisa by name.
But Harry wasn't stupid.
He'd seen the way Alisa looked at him sometimes—like she was afraid to hurt him. The tension in her shoulders. The careful distance she maintained.
She's cursed, Harry thought. Whatever it is, it's affecting her badly. And Tonks is helping her.
The question was: should he help too?
Could he help?
Harry turned over, staring at the curtains of his bed.
He was attracted to Alisa. Had been since the moment she'd walked into that classroom—all power and control and barely contained intensity. And there was a lot of power underneath her clothes, he could feel that.
Ah, I'm thinking about what she looks like without her clothes on, again…