The witch was an absolute wonder with that spell, and the ensuing high had Harri floating through the perfect pair-bonding exercise; Harri, struggling under laving tongue and bruising kisses, blabbering on and on as their nerves lit up. Their body was so marred by experimental rune-work and etching that they’d never endure the long-term effects another sufferer might have been subjected to. Hermione had been modified much the same. Mostly similar, somewhat different. She had opted for less intrusive protections and ones that let her feel the pain in a much more sensitive manner. Harri never begrudged Hermione for her tastes; Hermes was just as talented and competent as she’d ever been, and if the  Crucio had any lasting effect on her at all, all it managed was to induce a lovingly euphoric state of mind, lustful and unwilling to be denied.