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Chapter Text

Harry Potter was the envy of most of the wizards in Magical Britain. He had always been seen as a privileged young man. Revered since before he had learned to talk. Given preferential treatment at Hogwarts by Albus Dumbledore and most of the Hogwarts staff. And now that he had defeated the vilest dark wizard since Grindelwald, his stock had only risen. Many believed it was unfair, but there was nothing they could do about it.

No one had ever cared about what he had to endure as a result of everything that had been thrust upon him. He never had his parents’ love. He had endured an abusive childhood. He could not have a normal school year without having his life threatened at least once. And he had a vengeful dark lord baying for his blood.

People always saw the bright side, never bothering to think about what he had to sacrifice or go through.

He had always been a helpful young man, always trying to put others before himself, but the treatment he had received at the hands of the Wizarding folk during the war had changed him. No one came forward to help him, fearful of the wrath they might incur from the dark lord and his followers, and even though Harry understood it, it did not mean he liked it. A few, although they didn’t extend their help, went a step further and tried to entrap him and his allies to turn him over to Voldemort and curry favor with him.

Now that the problem had been solved, the same people cheered his name, acting as if nothing had ever happened.

The proverbial nail in the coffin had been driven by Ginny. He believed himself to be in love with her, and he had been looking forward to getting together with her once the war ended. Perhaps even form a family with her. That was why he checked the Marauders’ Map every night during the Horcrux Hunt to make sure she was safe.

It was on one of those nights that he saw it. Ginny’s footsteps were in some classroom on the fifth floor that he knew had remained abandoned for decades. That was not too surprising to him, however. What shocked him was the pair of footsteps right behind hers. The way those two pairs of footsteps were arranged left no doubt in his mind as to what they were up to. For hours he had kept staring at those footsteps, changing angles every so often, and every time they did, his mind conjured the images based on them. It was torture, but it was torture he chose every night.

It was a different room every time, and an odd broom closet or two as well. Sometimes the footsteps faced away from each other, with hers always in front, while sometimes they faced each other. Every time, her footsteps were spread a little further apart. That was not all. He also saw the footsteps overlapping sometimes, either hers on his or his on hers.

He had felt numb in the beginning, not knowing what to think. The numbness shortly gave way to rage. He tortured himself every night, and he fed himself that rage. Betrayal was not something new to him. But it had never hit so close.

He did it for close to a fortnight, and he was not disappointed even once. They did it every night for hours, and that was how long his self-inflicted torture went. The entire episode also affected his relationship with Ron and Hermione who had joined him on the hunt, and even after so many years, the aftereffects remained.

He had always put others before himself, and something like this happened. Every fucking time.

That finally killed any desire he had of doing things for others at the expense of himself. He had half a mind to let everyone rot in this hell they had so willingly surrendered to, but he never gave in to that worthless desire. Not because he cared for them. He didn’t. Not anymore. It was because he knew Voldemort would not rest easy until he had killed him, and to live his life on his terms, he had to kill the dark wizard first.

The war had ended, and he had shaken hands with various people who had come forward to thank him for this great service he had done to them. Harry had taken it all with a pinch of salt. He knew their opinion would sway quicker than a whore when offered a fat stack of galleons, and he didn’t put much stock in their admiration of him. What he did though, was use the situation to his advantage.

Fast forward four years, and at the age of twenty-two, Harry Potter was one of the richest wizard in Magical Britain. But riches alone were not enough. He needed a hobby that he would enjoy and one that would bring him power in equal measure. The post of Minister had been offered to him, but he showed his generosity and declined, which earned him even more acclaim and words of praise from the public although they were also disappointed that he had not taken the post. Instead, he enrolled as a rookie auror, to everyone’s surprise.

He dedicated himself in the field, and quickly made a name for himself as the most gifted auror the forces had ever had. He never used his fame to gain any undue advantage, and even though there were many who were jealous of him, no one could point out a flaw in the way he had gone about things. He earned everything he had, even though he could have had it all without putting in so much effort. That earned him immense respect from everyone.

Magically, he was the most powerful wizard in Britain, with the knowledge that many would kill for. The Elder Wand was his, and so were the memories he had obtained from Voldemort when the dark lord had killed the Horcrux he had inadvertently placed inside him. Harry believed those memories also had a role to play in how his psyche had changed since that incident, but he knew the most they had done was possibly amplify what was already in his mind.

Harry did not care for people’s opinion of him, but he knew the benefits it came with. He ensured they were shown a positive image of him every step of the way. He portrayed this image of an honest young man who did not want to use his fame or past acclaim to gain an undue advantage and instead wanted to earn it all, and everything worked in his favor. People worshipped him whenever he stepped out in public, and he took it all with utmost graciousness. The teenager who shied away from the attention of the public was no longer anywhere to be seen.

He also set up numerous charities for the old, the orphaned, the underprivileged class, and the previously scorned creatures like werewolves. He never advertised that he was the one making the donations, but everyone knew who was behind those organizations that had pooped up overnight. Gold was not an issue, and he used it to build his image. It was not an exaggeration to say that he was revered more than Dumbledore had ever been.

However, unlike the old wizard, Harry’s intentions were not all noble. The welfare of the people was a consequence of what he was doing. His objective was to make himself immune from any sort of criticism. He wanted to build his support base so large that he never had to fight those who would try to tarnish his image. The people would do that for him instead. That was true power.

He was done living for others, and now his life was his to do with as he pleased.

He had become the youngest head of the DMLE at the age of twenty-two and was the British representative to the ICW as well. It was no exaggeration to say that he had the most power in Wizarding Britain. He was the figurehead behind the post of minister, and the intelligent ones knew who commanded all the power. It could be seen in the way Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister for Magic, was always deferential to him – someone who was supposed to be in employment with the ministry.

Yet, they had full faith in him. They trusted that he would never abuse this power and that he would never use it to overthrow the government or anything. Harry was all too happy to let them think that. He had no interest in becoming the one in charge anyway. He was happy to work in the shadows.

One word from him and the public would be crying out for the Minister’s head. He had this power and he liked it.

Voldemort had been a fool to go about things the way he did, and so was Dumbledore for not taking what was right in front of him after he defeated Grindelwald.

He had power, he had prestige, he had riches, he had acclaim, and he had witches throwing themselves all over him. He had no qualms about indulging in the perks he was offered, and indulge he did.

Thus, it was no surprise when his ex-girlfriend finally approached him.

Ginny still looked lovely. Her flaming red hair was let down in waves over her back, a few strands cupping her beautiful face and he smirked to himself when he saw the obvious effort she had put into looking as ravishing as she did. She came into his office clad in an overcoat that covered her body entirely, but once they were alone, she discarded it, revealing the black dress she had on underneath.

The black cocktail dress was held up on her shoulders by thin, spaghetti straps, and it was easy for him to conclude that she was wearing no bra. It was entirely possible that she was wearing nothing underneath at all. The dress reached the middle of her thighs, and Harry could easily see the bare skin of her thick thighs and long legs through the transparent glass desk.

However, the sight of her did nothing but fill him with disdain. If she thought dressing like this would make him crawl back to her, she was sorely mistaken.

It was he who had broken up with her the moment he laid eyes on her back in the Room of Requirement. He had done it in front of everyone, taking them all by surprise. However, the war took precedence and no one paid too much attention to it back then.

She had been surprised, and more than a little shocked. When he told her why he was breaking up with her, the look on her face was enough to tell him.

She had no intention of ever telling him what she had been up to with that asshole in the Hogwarts corridors, the prefect’s bathroom, the abandoned classrooms, the broom closets, the Gryffindor dormitories that remained vacant after every student fled to the Room of Requirement, and even the grounds. He remembered the humiliation he had felt when he had seen her on the Marauders’ Map, fucking that cunt in his bed in the Gryffindor boys’ dormitory.

He didn’t care for Ginny, and to him, she meant nothing.

“Hey Harry,” she said with a small smile. For his part, Harry simply stared at her, fingers drumming on the desk as he sat back comfortably. He saw her eyeing the clothing on his person and the various decorations around his office. Everything was super expensive, and he chuckled to himself as he saw her glancing around. She was too easy.

“Hello, Ginny. What brings you here after all this time?”

Ginny looked at him and leaned forward, trying to attract his eyes to her exposed cleavage. She had indeed gone without a bra, and her tits were hanging in that dress. The angle did little to conceal the roundness of her mounds.

“What? I need a reason to visit you now?” She asked with a coy smile that Harry easily recognized as forced. He simply stared at her. Ginny’s smile vanished slowly and she looked down, biting her lip.

“It’s just… I miss you,” she whispered. “I miss what we had. I’ve thought about what happened, and I realize what an idiot I was to throw away everything.”

Harry stared at her, expertly hiding his amusement. She was a fool if she thought this would work on him.

“Is that so?” he asked instead, leaning back on his chair and fixing her with an intense stare.

Ginny looked at him and nodded.

“You must understand, Harry… the war was hard for all of us. And it was especially tough for those of us in the school. The things we had to do… I didn’t want to do it, but things just happened. You don’t know how much I wish I could go back in time and stop myself from doing all that.”

Harry didn’t say anything. He simply kept staring at her.

“You didn’t deserve it, Harry. Not from me, and not when you were doing everything in your power to save us all,” she whispered. Harry wanted to scoff at the words that were coming out of this bitch’s mouth, but he held back.

“I see,” he replied instead. “Why the sudden change in heart?”

Ginny looked up at him, and he had to commend her. Those tears truly looked genuine, and the older Harry would’ve been on his knees by now, wiping them off and apologizing profusely for making her cry. Not him though.

“I’ve been thinking about it for so long now,” she said, sniffing. “And I regret how it all ended for us. This is not some sudden change in heart, Harry.”

He looked at her and let out a dramatic sigh.

“What do you want from me, Ginny?” He asked finally.

Ginny stared at him and stood up from her chair. He watched her as she walked around the desk and came to stand beside him. The redhead placed a hand on the back of his chair and leaned forward, her other hand on his desk. The neckline of her dress was cut short, giving him a tantalizing view of her cleavage right in front of his face. He felt a sort of calming aroma wafting off her, trying to ensnare his senses, and he looked at her with eyes full of adoration. Ginny smiled.

“I know you are still attracted to me,” she whispered, looking him in the eyes. “And I’m attracted to you as well. More than you can imagine. What do you say about giving it one more shot?”

Harry stared at her face for a long moment before dragging his eyes down her neck until he was staring at her exposed cleavage. Ginny smirked at his obvious attraction and gently held him by the back of his head, tilting his face upward and bringing her lips closer to his. She brushed the strand of her hair behind her ear with the other hand and opened her mouth to whisper something when Harry cut her off.

“And this has nothing to do with the fact that we are on to Zabini?” He asked with a wicked smirk as he looked back at her face. Ginny’s eyes widened slightly as she leaned back, watching the adoring look vanish from his eyes. Her hand left the back of his head and she put it on the chair once again.

The redhead quickly composed herself, the smile coming back.

“Zabini has been a long, distant past, Harry. I’ve not even thought about him for years,” she whispered. “I never could, not after I realized how wrong I was when I did that.”

“And yet you fucked him last night before coming over here this morning,” he replied immediately, smirking. Ginny’s eyes widened.

“Y-you must be mistaken, H-Harry. I’ve—”

“‘Potter and his aurors are on to me. I tried to bury everything but the asshole is too good at his job.’ Isn’t that what he said last night after you two fucked?” Harry said casually, smirking at her widening eyes. “We’ve been monitoring that piece of shit for a month, Ginny. You better believe every single auror on this assignment knows how many times you two have fucked, where you two have fucked, and how many women apart from you he has fucked. Four, if you’re interested in knowing.”

Ginny recoiled when Harry suddenly stood up and grabbed her red hair in a fist, glaring at her.

“And trying to use love potions of the Director of the DMLE? That’s at least a decade in Azkaban if I’m lenient,” he smirked at her fearful eyes. “And you better believe I’d be anything but lenient, especially with you.”

“Harry I—”

“Just shut up with your bullshit, Ginny,” he chided as he walked around her, holding her steady by her hair, and Ginny’s eyes widened when he slowly lowered her front over his desk, hiking her bottom up. “I know why you were here. You were going to seduce me and ask me to take you back now that Zabini’s a lost cause. Very predictable, I must say.”

“N-no I—”

“Denying it won’t do anything, Ginny,” he whispered as he pulled her hair back harshly, making her cry out in pain. “I’ve come to know what kind of woman you are. There’s nothing you can do that can convince me. Zabini’s days are numbered, and you better believe he’d be rotting in Azkaban for his sins. You and I? That can happen only in your dreams.”

“H-Harry please… I…”

“I’d like you to answer something for me, Ginny. And I’d like you to be truthful about it for once,” he whispered against her ear, and Ginny shivered.

“Okay,” she whispered submissively.

“Why could you not wait for me and had to become a whore to Zabini? Just give me an honest answer. That’s all,” he said softly.

“Because I didn’t know if you were even alive, and things happened between Blaise and me,” she whispered. A loud smack rang out as Harry spanked her ass over her dress, making her cry out in a mix of pain and shock. Her eyes widened as she looked at the table.

“Lie next time and it will be on your bare skin,” he growled, pulling her hair and making her cry out. Ginny could not explain why but she was getting overly turned on by this. Harry was never like this with her, and she felt more attracted to this side of him than she could’ve ever imagined. She could feel her juices trickling down her legs and she shivered.

“The truth now, if you will,” he whispered as he leaned over. Ginny gulped and blinked slowly.

“Blaise excited me,” she finally whispered. “You were away, and you were always so gentle whenever we made out. After you left, I was left alone and no one would come to me. They all knew we were together, and I knew no one would betray you like that.”

“Not Zabini though, right?” Harry chuckled mirthlessly, still holding her hair in a firm grip. “That’s why you chose him?”

Ginny nodded shortly. “He told me he could protect me from the Carrows if I agreed to sleep with him. That I won’t have to worry about getting tortured.”

“And like the coward you are, you jumped at the chance,” Harry scoffed. “Everyone was bravely enduring everything, doing all they could to bring down Voldemort and they never bowed, and there you were, spreading your legs eagerly for some respite. You disgust me, Ginny.”

“I had no choice, okay! I couldn’t take it. It’s not my fault that I couldn’t.”

“Tell me, Ginny,” Harry said softly. “Would you have betrayed us if they offered you protection? Would you have told them where the students were hiding, who was helping them outside Hogwarts, and everything else you knew if they let you live comfortably?”

Ginny’s silence was answer enough, and Harry scoffed.

“Then I’m glad that Zabini was nothing more than a horny bastard who could only think with his cock,” Harry sneered. “And you seriously thought I’d agree to get back with someone like you?”

“H-Harry… I love you,” she whispered.

“Love?” He scoffed. “You don’t love me. You love everything around me. The wealth, the respect, the prestige in society, the power. You want to be a part of it all. You are nothing but a greedy whore, Ginny.”

Ginny’s eyes widened when he suddenly hiked her dress up over her ass and dragged his finger over her pussy lips.

“Seems I was right. You’ve even trimmed. And what is this? You’re so wet that you’re gushing,” Harry chuckled. “Does all this make you wet, you whore?”

Ginny whimpered as he ran his fingers over her slit once again.

“You’re indeed a whore, Ginny,” he replied, and she heard the rustling behind her. Her eyes widened when he pushed her legs apart and probed her bare pussy with what was undoubtedly his cock.

They had done it only once, and Ginny still remembered how it had felt when she was speared open by his handsome rod. She felt him rub the head of his cock all over her wet, sodden lips.

“I feel somewhat sorry for you,” he whispered as he kept rubbing his cock over her folds, probing her entrance every few seconds but never pushing inside. “You’ve put so much effort into getting ready for this seduction you had planned. It would be a shame to let it all go to waste.”

Ginny whimpered, her upper body resting on the desk, as Harry slowly pushed forward. She moaned when she felt the head pop in.

“How the fuck are you so tight, you whore?” He grunted as he gave another push, burying half his length inside her and making her hiss. “Don’t tell me Zabini had a needle.”

Ginny moaned when Harry gave another push and she cried out when he fully sheathed himself inside her. Her quim was stretched more than it had ever been, and she gasped, trying to keep her legs steady.

Harry smirked and delivered a firm smack on her butt cheek, watching as the ivory skin turned an ugly shade of red. The jiggling of her supple flesh made him smack the other cheek as well, and he grunted as she clenched her inner muscles around him.

“Tell me, Ginny, you’re just a whore, aren’t you?” He whispered as he leaned over, keeping his length buried inside her as he grabbed her hair. He pulled her back against him, making her cry out, and grabbed her by the neck. He turned her head to the side so that he could see her face, and he smirked when he saw her expression.

“You are indeed a whore, Ginny. And you know what whores do, right?” he grunted as he pulled his hips backward before slamming inside her with a rough thrust. Ginny cried out.

“They fuck others in exchange for something. Don’t worry, I’ll be paying you generously for your service,” he grunted and started to slam inside her.

“OH MERLIN!” Ginny cried out as Harry hammered away inside her mercilessly. “Oh you’re so big! Oooooh fuck me!”

She began to push her ass back to meet his thrusts as Harry licked along the sweaty skin of her shoulder. His hand holding her neck drifted to the side and pushed her straps down her shoulders, and Ginny eagerly took her arms out, letting the black fabric pool around her waist, freeing up her tits.

Harry kept thrusting inside her and brought his hands forward, cupping her tits and pinching her aching nipples. He felt the weight of her warm, firm mounds, marveling at how heavy the fleshy orbs felt and how hard her erect nipples were between his fingers.

Ginny moaned with each thrust of his hard, fat cock inside her as Harry groped her tits to his heart’s content. His fingers pulled her hardened nubs before he released them and squeezed her tit flesh once again. Her ass slammed against his pelvis, rippling with every smack as Harry continued to fuck her hard and fast.

“What are you, Ginny?” Harry grunted as he grabbed both her tits and pulled her back against his front, drilling into her mercilessly.

“I’m a whore,” she cried out. “Oh Merlin you’re so big! Fuck me harder!”

Harry pinched her nipples once again and hearing her groan louder, he pinched them again. Her moans and grunts intensified and Harry felt her clench around his length.

“Oh? You’re going to cum already?” He asked with a chuckle. “I guess Zabini really has a needle if this is enough for you.”

Harry drove deeper and harder into her as Ginny’s body quivered. He held her firmly against him, squeezing her tits harshly and pinching her nipples. For her part, Ginny ground her cunt against him as her orgasm washed over her. She cried out as intense pleasure coursed through her, sending her reeling. Harry held her upright, groping her tits harshly.

Her body shivered as she rode out her orgasm and Harry let her fall over on her front. He hiked her ass up and began to rhythmically fuck her sopping wet pussy. His fingers sank into the plump flesh of her round ass and he drove furiously into her.

It was when he felt the familiar throbbing in his balls that he slowly pulled out of her. He saw her juices flow out of her well-fucked cunt.

“Get on your knees, slut,” he commanded, staring at the redhead who lay prone with her upper body on the desk and her legs barely supporting her weight. She slowly turned around and dropped to her knees, staring up at him. Harry raised an expectant eyebrow.

The redhead grabbed his slick length and slowly leaned forward, giving it a nice lick from the base to the tip. She swirled her tongue around the head and hollowed her cheeks out, pushing her mouth over his cock. Inch by inch, his throbbing cock disappeared inside her mouth and Harry watched as she swallowed his entire length.

“Go on, clean it up nicely and I’ll allow you to swallow it,” he smirked. The redhead looked up at him with lustful eyes as she bobbed her head eagerly on his cock. Her cheeks sank as she sucked him off, and Harry felt himself getting close.

“Here it comes. You better not waste a single drop, you understand?”

Ginny looked up at him and nodded as she sucked hard, and it didn’t take long for him to erupt. Rope after rope of his thick, white seed shot forward inside her mouth and Ginny sucked him off eagerly, milking him for all his cum. Her hand came up to stroke him as she wrapped her lips around the head, taking all he had to offer inside her mouth.

Harry pulled out of her mouth when he was done and he watched as she looked up at him and swallowed it all. She followed his command like the obedient slut she was and not even a drop was wasted.

“Good girl. That was your payment for the service,” he said as he ran his hand through her wavy red hair, smirking when she preened. “Now get up and put your dress on.”

He pulled his pants back in place and fixed his clothes as Ginny dressed herself back up. Taking a seat on his chair, he watched as she pulled the straps back in place and smoothed down the front. Feeling his eyes on her, she looked at him.

“You can go now. I’ll tell you when I need you again,” he said dismissively. Instead of getting offended or angry, Ginny felt a jolt of excitement shoot through her at the prospect of another encounter. She grinned happily and nodded as she put her overcoat on.

She fixed her makeup and ensured nothing was out of place, and with a parting smile, she walked out of the office. Harry flicked his wand and shut the door.

He tapped his wand against the enchanted mirror on his desk. Immediately, the face of Susan Bones appeared in the mirror and she smiled.

“Hey, boss,” She greeted cheekily. Harry chuckled.

“Remember Zabini? We got the evidence secured, right?” He asked, earning a nod from the redhead.

“Yeah, it all came in last night.”

“Great,” Harry smirked. “Go get him under custody this afternoon. We can take care of the prosecution this evening and be done with this trivial case.”

“Wrap it up in one day?” Susan asked in surprise. Harry nodded.

“It’s a trivial case anyway. Not much to prove either. Why delay stuff like this when all it needs is an hour or two?”

“I still don’t understand why you personally got involved with Zabini, Harry,” Susan muttered. “We could’ve easily managed it.”

Harry chuckled.

“Sometimes you have to get personal, Susan. And don’t forget, I might he the head, but I still like the field work.”

The redhead shook her head. “You’re the most unconventional head of department ever. That reminds me though. You asked me to keep a lookout for dark families trying to get rid of any hidden artefacts, remember?”

“You got a lead?”

“In Sheffield,” Susan nodded. “And that’s not all.”

Harry looked at her, intrigued when she smirked.

“It’s the Malfoys.”

Harry’s eyes widened and an excited grin overtook his features.

“I’ll personally greet my dear friends then. Just send me the address,” he said. Susan chuckled and gave a thumbs-up before her face vanished.

The Malfoy family was an odd case. Everyone expected them to disappear from the face of Wizarding Britain after the fall of the dark lord, and it was nothing less than they deserved. However, people were surprised when none other than Harry Potter came forward, asking for a reduced sentence for them. He told the courtroom about the role Narcissa Malfoy had played in ensuring they won and pointed out that they had not fought in the war despite having been on the side of the dark, nor were they charged with killing anyone.

He had somehow managed to get them a reduced sentence for Lucius and Draco, but that did not mean he had forgotten everything. He had no quarrel with Narcissa and he would not be prosecuting her, but Lucius and Draco deserved to go to hell for everything they had done. A year in Azkaban was nothing when they were concerned.

The DMLE had observed a sudden increase in the number of dark artifacts circulating the underground circles and it did not take them long to realize that families of former death eaters were selling those artifacts to recover some of the wealth they had lost as well as to get rid of them in case there ever was a raid. They did it all discreetly, and in small quantities to not tip the aurors off, but they didn’t know the aurors had been tipped off already.

A few shopkeepers had been turned, and they had been instructed to inform the DMLE of any scheduled meetings for a possible sale. It was inevitable that someone would fall into the trap, but he had never expected that the Malfoys would be the first. Harry had ensured that Narcissa kept Malfoy Manor, but there was no preventing the severe penalties imposed on the family. As such, he knew their finances were not so good. In terms of assets, the manor was the most significant one they possessed, and he believed Narcissa’s jewelry made most of the rest. It made sense that they would try something like this.

However, Harry did not care. He had been looking for ways to get rid of the two Malfoy males. His debt to Narcissa had been settled, and there was nothing stopping him from persecuting Lucius and Draco to the full extent of the law.

Now that they were about to be trapped in the web, it was the perfect opportunity to bring them down.

TBC.

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Chapter Text

Susan sent him the address and Harry immediately apparated away to an old settlement that was Sheffield's wizarding village. Hidden under centuries-old powerful wards, it was one of the minor wizarding settlements in Britain.

Harry had to give it to the Malfoys. He would have never thought they would take their business to a place like this. Alas, desperate times called for desperate measures. The need for money must be dire for them to choose this place since it was less frequented by the wizarding folk, and as such, very unlikely to fetch them a fair price for whatever artifacts they were trying to pawn off.

Their intel suggested that the Malfoys had arranged for the sale to take place at 4 o'clock, and here he was. It was quarter to 4 in the afternoon – enough time for him to get ready to welcome his guests. Donning his Invisibility Cloak, Harry walked into the small village and it took him barely five minutes to reach his destination.

It was a nondescript shop, and like the village, it was dingy and reeked of mold. The rainy season meant the ground was muddy, and Harry wondered which member of the House of Malfoy would agree to sully himself with all this filth. He hoped it was Draco, although he would not mind Lucius either.

He entered the shop and watched as the shopkeeper, a man who looked to be in his sixties, looked up in surprise. The surprise turned to confusion when he saw no one enter.

Harry walked over and got behind the counter, and spoke, "DMLE. Walk with me to the back room."

The old man froze before he gave a discreet nod and turned around as naturally as he could. Harry watched as the man walked through the door and followed him in. The man was still looking around to see who it was when Harry levitated a small vial of clear liquid in front of him.

"Drink it," he commanded, and the old man complied. Harry watched as he uncorked the vial and drank the potion, and once he saw the telltale sign of the potion taking effect, he smirked.

"Are you Nicholas Ackerley who tipped off the DMLE about the Malfoy meeting?"

"I am," the man replied.

"Have you told anyone that the DMLE knows about this meeting?"

"No," came the reply. Harry nodded.

"Are there any traps set for the aurors or anyone else?"

"Only by the DMLE for the Malfoys."

"Do you have any intention of betraying the DMLE or have you already done so?"

"No and no."

Harry nodded and quickly levitated the antidote, telling the man to take it. The man's eyes cleared shortly and Harry emerged from under his cloak.

"Go out and act as if everything's normal. I'll be nearby," Harry instructed, and the man nodded before he walked out. Harry got back under his cloak and leaned against the wall beside the counter. Only a couple of minutes remained until 4.

Right on the clock, he saw the front door open with a creak, and he frowned when he saw who it was. A woman entered, but one he didn't recognize. He watched her as she came closer and looked her up and down.

She was wearing a nondescript witches' robe and the fabric was torn in places. The bottom of her robes were stained with mud and he saw the muddy footprints she left in her wake. She wore a witches' hat over her dark hair and her brown eyes darted around, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

"Peacock," she said as she came over to the counter, and that was when Harry recognized her. The old man looked at her.

"Swan," The old man nodded and waited expectantly.

Harry watched as she started to place a few objects on the counter, and the old man grabbed a pair of gloves and began examining. He ran his wand over the artifacts, humming occasionally before placing them back on the counter. Meanwhile, Harry and the woman watched as the old man went about his job. There were six artifacts in total, and the man examined them all.

"Two hundred and eighty-seven is the best I can do," the old man replied finally.

The woman's eyes widened.

"Only?"

The man nodded, earning a frown from her. She stared at the artifacts for a moment before she sighed helplessly and nodded.

Harry decided he had seen enough and he quickly pulled the cloak off himself. The woman immediately spotted him, and her eyes widened. She made to snatch the artifacts back but Harry quickly flicked his wand, freezing her in place.

"I'll be taking over now," Harry said, flicking his wand and banishing all the artifacts back inside the moleskin pouch the woman had pulled them from. He pulled the pouch off her waist. The woman stared, frozen in place, as he put it in the pocket of his robes.

Turning toward the old man, Harry smiled. "Thank you for your help."

The old man nodded and watched as Harry took the woman's arm and apparated away with a soft pop.

"Aurors. Always bad for business, but can't do anything 'bout them," he sighed and sat back on his chair.

-Break-

Harry appeared with the woman in a darkened corridor which lit up immediately. Turning toward her, he summoned her wand and pocketed it. The woman watched it all helplessly and sighed when Harry unfroze her.

"I had a feeling something like this was going to happen," she muttered before looking around. "Never expected I'd be back here though."

"I thought you'd prefer it to be someplace you knew," he replied easily and began walking. "Come on in."

The woman sighed and walked behind him, and she saw him sitting on the couch. He gestured for her to take a seat.

"I must admit," he began. "When we received that tip off, I expected either Draco or Lucius to come. I never expected you, Narcissa."

Narcissa looked up at him with a frown.

"They couldn't go," she replied.

"Why's that?"

She sighed and looked at him. "Can you take down my glamor?"

Seeing no harm in doing it, Harry obliged and flicked his wand. His breath caught in his throat when he looked at her.

"Merlin, how did this happen?" He whispered, leaning closer and looking at her. Lacerations were open all over her face, reaching down her neck and beneath her robes.

"The Dark Lord cursed everyone who betrayed him upon death. Since the Malfoys were the only ones who ran away, we were the only ones affected," she whispered. "Draco and Lucius died three months ago because they were marked. These marks appeared on all our bodies, but the reaction was much faster on them. They died within 24 hours. Since I was not marked, they are working slower. Still, I feel weaker day by day, and I don't think I have much time to live either."

Harry frowned as he stared at her. In all honesty, the deaths of the two Malfoys didn't affect him in any manner, although he would have preferred for them to suffer for their sins. Now that they were dead, it was worthless to think about it. Narcissa though had not done anything. The only crime she had committed was letting things happen, and in all honesty, he could not blame her for anything. She was not someone he wanted to see suffer. Even though he had paid off his debt, he still held her in a positive light. He knew she had done it only because of her son, but it still counted.

He had the memories of Voldemort, and he knew what curse it was. Luckily for Narcissa, he knew the counter as well.

"Hold still," he said and brandished his wand, placing it on her forehead where the ugly laceration began. It was a shade of dark red, and it made her look like a proper hag. Harry knew Narcissa was a beautiful woman, and this imperfection did not suit her in the slightest. "This is the reason why you were going to sell those artifacts?"

Narcissa nodded, staring at his face. "I've been looking around for buyers for the manor, but no one wants to buy a place where that monster lived. I need the money to consult healers who might know how to cure me."

"They can't," Harry replied before he ran the tip of his wand over the marks, murmuring under his breath. Narcissa's eyes widened when she felt the throbbing pain go away as Harry traced his wand all over her face. Finally, he was done, and she felt as if she had aged back a decade.

"What did you do?"

Harry chuckled. "Lucky for you, I am one of the very few who knows how to counter this curse, and I did it for you. It is an obscure curse and imitates the effects of skin cancer, speeding up the process significantly."

Narcissa reached up and felt her face, and it felt much softer than before. She looked at him in surprise.

"Well, it creates new skin and discards the old cancerous one, so it makes sense for you to look a few years younger," he replied with a shrug. "I doubt you'd mind though."

"Thank you," she said gratefully. Harry stared at her beautiful face and he had to admit that she was stunning. His eyes trailed down her neck and he saw the lacerations continue their way under her clothes. Her eyes followed his, and she blushed when the implications dawned on her.

"I understand," she said and stood up. "Should we take this upstairs?"

Harry nodded and watched as she turned around and walked away. His eyes inadvertently dropped to her rear as it swayed hypnotically. Her rump was large and even under that dress, it looked very curvy. He walked behind her as they climbed up the stairs and they reached the floor shortly.

"This one?" Narcissa asked, earning a nod from Harry. She pushed the door open and entered. Harry followed behind her and shut the door.

Without any prompting on his part, she unbuttoned her robe and pulled it off her, revealing a modest dress that covered every part of her delectable body. Harry's eyes took in her large tits that were straining against the fabric and he saw her reach behind to unzip it.

Barely a minute later, Harry was gazing at the near-naked form of Narcissa Malfoy as she stood in front of him in her black bra and knickers. Her entire ivory skin had turned pink, and angry red lacerations stained her previously porcelain skin.

Harry walked closer, wand held aloft, and Narcissa stood still. She could feel his eyes on every inch of her body, and it sent an odd sense of excitement through her. No man apart from Lucius had seen her like this, and now he was about to see even more.

"I'm going to take your bra and knickers off now," he stated as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Narcissa's breath hitched slightly when she felt his fingers graze her naked skin, and she could feel his body heat on her back. His hands gently unsnapped her bra, and her breath came out in short gasps when he peeled it off her body. Her tits bounced free, and she saw him throw her bra on the floor.

She could feel him squatting behind her, and her toes curled at the thought of him seeing her naked hips and possibly her bare lower lips as well. She closed her eyes and clenched her fist, gasping, when his fingers grabbed the waistband of her knickers and gently pulled them off her skin.

"Go on," she whispered, and Harry obliged. He slowly dragged her knickers down her wide ass, and Narcissa released a soft breath when he freed her pussy. The cold air made her shiver when it hit her lower lips.

Once he had her knickers down by her feet, she daintily stepped to the side and accidentally bumped his face with her rear. Harry chuckled as she gasped.

Blushing, Narcissa saw him come forward and looked up at him. His eyes were trained on her face and she could feel the intensity of his gaze.

"Such a shame, what he's done to such perfection," he whispered, placing the tip of his wand against her neck. "Nothing to worry about though. I'll take care of it all."

Narcissa's eyes remained trained on his face as he concentrated and started whispering under his breath. As the tip of his wand trailed its path over her skin, she could feel the pain lessening. Her breath hitched when he reached her cleavage, and she felt his wand slide inside it. Slowly, he trailed down, sliding his wand through her cleavage, over her belly, and down to the sacred place between her legs.

"I'll do your legs first," he whispered. Narcissa nodded and watched as he squatted on his knees. His eyes were level with her lower lips and she was sure he could see everything. Embarrassment and arousal mixed as she gazed downward.

She breathed softly when he ran his wand over her legs, gasping whenever he grazed her inner thighs. It was happening right in front of her eyes. A warm blue glow left his wand as it trailed over her skin, and it washed away the lacerations as if they were never there. In addition to curing her, it left her with smooth, young skin. Biting her lips softly, Narcissa stared at him as he grabbed her by the thighs and turned her around.

His face was level with her rump now, and she gasped when he put his wand against the curve of her ass. He repeated the process, slowly trailing his wand down her plump rear and Narcissa breathed softly when he gently dragged it over her inner thigh and down her legs.

"Can you feel anything wrong with your lower body?" He asked in a gruff voice. Narcissa could only shake her head. He had taken care of it all. "That's good then."

She felt him stand up and her eyes opened. He was standing in front of her, looking down with a heated gaze.

"I'll do your front now," he whispered. Wordlessly, Narcissa nodded and watched as he placed the tip of his wand on her waist. He trailed it over her right side, getting rid of the red marks with precision before doing the same with her left. She saw him squat a bit so that he was face level with her tits, and she watched as new skin appeared all over her belly. There were only two places left on her front, and she wanted him to get on with it already.

Harry looked up at her and saw the pleading look in her eyes. Smirking, he stood up and placed the tip of his wand over her left breast. Narcissa breathed deeply as he dragged it over the round orb of flesh, circling her nipple before caressing the underside of her breast with his wand. With a smirk, he moved over to the right breast and Narcissa's eyes widened in disbelief. He repeated it with the other breast, circling her nipple but never quite touching it.

In no time, this had become sexual healing for them, and Harry was enjoying himself a lot. Narcissa was a bombshell of a woman in her forties but she looked to be in her twenties now and he found her irresistible. There was no way he was letting her go now, and after Draco and Lucius' deaths, it wouldn't be hard to make her his. He would heal her, and he would save her from certain death. In return, she would be his for life.

Right now, however, he was enjoying teasing her immensely. He could smell her arousal, and he could feel how agitated she was getting from all his teasing. Her entire body apart from her back and her nipples had been taken care of, and Harry smirked before he walked behind her.

Narcissa almost cried out at the torture she was receiving at the hands of this magnificent man. He had aroused her beyond belief and he kept increasing the intensity. She had been left a wanting mess, longing to feel him take care of the small lacerations over her nipples. But he pulled away at the last minute and went behind her, tracing his wand over her back. The skin rejuvenated once he was done, and Narcissa sighed. Finally, he would take care of her aching nipples.

Her breath hitched when she felt him press closer against her back, and she belatedly realized that he was wearing not a stitch of clothing. Her naked back, young and nubile, was flush against his front, and she gasped when she felt something brushing against her rear.

"W-what are you doing?" She whispered, her voice reeking with arousal.

"Shh…" he whispered and brought his wand forward. Narcissa's breath hitched once again when he finally placed the tip of his wand on her nipple and traced it all over her hardened nub, and she felt the tip of his other wand prodding her lower lips. Try as she might, she could not do anything but stay standing still.

His wand took care of her other nipple in no time, and Narcissa almost cried. She was safe. She was not going to die. And to top it all off, she now had her young body back. She could feel the softness of her skin, and this time, it was all natural and not the result of some potion.

Before she could turn around and express her gratitude, she felt his hand gently stroke her sides and she shivered. Her breathing grew ragged as he dragged his hands up her sides until he gently cupped her tits and gave them a soft squeeze. His face came forward, and Narcissa's neck tilted involuntarily as he began peppering the side of her neck with soft featherlight kisses.

"We shouldn't be doing this," she whispered, gasping when he gently flicked her hard nipples. He showed no sign of stopping. His lips sucked the tender skin of her neck and she felt his manhood rubbing her pussy lips. She couldn't help but rub her ass back against it in response.

Finally, he pulled his face off her neck and took her earlobe in his mouth, nibbling gently.

"And why shouldn't we do this?" He whispered in her ear as his hands continued to squeeze her tits. His touch felt so good. It was better than she had ever felt. "I'm very much willing here, and I believe so are you."

His question registered with her and she was at a loss for words. She didn't know why they shouldn't do this. Her husband was gone, and so was her son. She had no one to live for. On the other hand, he had saved her life and given her a new one.

"You are a beautiful woman, Narcissa," he whispered. "I thought you were attractive before, and I find you attractive even now. Believe me when I say that right now, I want nothing more than to make you mine."

Narcissa gasped when his right hand trailed down her front and gently prodded her lower lips, feeling the wetness.

"Look at you," he smirked against her skin. "You're so wet you're gushing. You could've just told me and I would've happily helped you, Narcissa."

"P-Potter I—"

"It's My Lord to you, Narcissa," he whispered as he slowly inserted a finger inside her needy quim, feeling how it sucked him inside. "I want to make you mine. And you'll have everything you could possibly want. Wealth, power, respect, and the most valuable of all, my love and care. You'll have it all."

Harry knew her, and he knew which buttons to press.

"You could have it all," he whispered, inserting another finger inside her and slowly thrusting in and out. "All you have to do is remain completely loyal to me. Will you be my faithful, Narcissa?"

Narcissa threw her head back against his shoulder in pleasure as he fingered her with one hand and groped her breast with the other, stimulating her in a way no one had done before. She had had enough of living like a pariah, and she no longer wanted to be associated with the taint that Lucius was. She had learned to live as his wife, but she had never been happy or felt loved. But here, she had the opportunity to feel everything she had been denied in her life. The decision was an easy one.

She looked up and him through her eyelashes and found him looking down at her. He was a man her son's age, but wasn't she also in her twenties now? Physically she was, and emotionally, she was sure he was more than her match after everything he had gone through.

"I'll be your faithful, my lord," she purred, grinning up at him.

"Then you better prove it, Cissa," he replied and pulled his hands off her. Narcissa felt him gently push her down to her knees in front of him, and she understood immediately.

Her hands reached up eagerly, and she wrapped her fingers around his manhood, marveling at its length and thickness.

"My lord has the most magnificent manhood I've ever seen," she whispered, and Harry smirked as she leaned forward and gave the head a tentative lick.

"Go on, I know you want to," he said with a chuckle, and Narcissa smiled before she opened her mouth and slowly took him inside her. Slowly, she began bobbing her head back and forth, blowing him off. Her hand stroked his slick length as her tongue swirled around it whenever he was inside her mouth. Her lips puckered up and slid along the length of his shaft, and Harry threaded his fingers through her hair, gently caressing her scalp.

"Fuck, you do know what you're doing," he grunted, and Narcissa preened under the praise. Her eyes lit up in excitement, and Harry wondered whether Lucius had ever praised her for anything. If he had to guess, he had not.

Narcissa's hand reached behind him and held him by the ass, squeezing gently as she took him as much inside her mouth as she could. Her eyes were locked with his, and she felt more aroused as time went by.

His hand caressed her cheek lovingly before he stilled her. Narcissa watched with furrowed brows as he pulled his length out of her mouth before pulling her to her feet.

He wrapped his arms around her, bringing her to his chest and mashing her large tits against him. Narcissa moaned when his member prodded the entrance to her core and saw him smirk. He began walking, and she began walking back until her legs hit the bed. She went tumbling down, a squeal escaping her lips as her lover leaned over her and aggressively mashed his lips against hers. Their tongues battled inside her mouth as his hands caressed her all over her body, from her breasts to her sides and belly and down to her round pert arse. No curve was left untouched as they kissed, and in no time, he had her nipples inside his mouth, alternating from one to the other as he fondled and squeezed her supple tits. She shuddered at the sensation. Her sensitive nipples sent ripples of pleasure through her entire being.

Her legs wrapped around his waist as she pulled him close, feeling his manhood pressing against her wetness and she ground herself against him. Her pent-up frustration was quickly coming to the surface and she wanted nothing more than for him to claim her properly.

His lips trailed upward, furiously sucking her cleavage before burrowing into her neck. All the while, he continued to grope and squeeze her tits, prodding and pinching her sensitive nipples and coaxing wanton gasps out of her.

"My lord please…" she moaned pleadingly. "Please take me, my lord… make me yours forever!"

Harry pulled back so that he was hovering over her and smirked. "Don't worry, Cissa. I plan to do exactly that."

He planted his lips on hers again and Narcissa felt his fingers part her lower lips before he inserted one of them inside her. Her back arched as he inserted another finger inside her before he curled them and tugged, and a loud wail rang out.

His fingers kept thrusting in and out of her, sending her juices flying about as he got her ready for penetration. Finally deeming her wet enough, Harry grabbed his cock and covered it in her juices. He held it like a spear and felt it pulsate in his grasp. Narcissa looked down, her arousal intensifying at the sight of his large, thick penis as it slowly slid forward. She watched as it parted her lower lips until the head popped in, and she gasped.

"Merlin, you're not even in and I feel more stretched than ever before, my lord," she whispered. Harry looked at her with a smile and gave a thrust, sliding another inch inside her. Narcissa held her breath, her eyes trained on the spot between her legs as she watched him push once again, burying another inch inside her.

"You have one tight pussy," he grunted and pushed further, sliding half his length inside her. His arms wrapped around her, holding her by the shoulders. Narcissa curled her arms over his back, holding his head against her neck and feeling him start to suck her tender skin. Meanwhile, her legs wrapped around his waist and she pulled him close just as he gave one mighty thrust, burying himself to the hilt inside her.

"Oh fuckkk!" She cried out and had only a second to brace herself as Harry pulled back and gave another slam, pushing his entire length inside her once again. Her legs pulled him in deeper, and with each thrust, deeper he went, filling her more than she had ever been. His cock ventured into depths previously unknown, and his lips slammed against hers as he continued to piston in and out of her. As he explored more and more of her pussy, Narcissa, for the first time, felt like she belonged entirely to this man. And not just any man. Her Lord. One who had saved her. One who had given her a second chance at life. And one who had bestowed upon her the ultimate gift she could have ever asked for – his continued love and care.

Their lips rolled against each other and he repeatedly slammed inside her gushing core. She felt the sensations of his thick rigid cock, ridged and veiny, scraping against the inner walls of her pussy and brushing past every nerve ending possible, sending ripples of pleasure thrumming throughout her very being. The wet sound of their sexes colliding repeatedly, coupled with the slapping of their skin made the lewd sounds a sinful melody.

Faster he thrust and more eager was her response as she pushed herself against him in equal measure, taking as much of him as he gave her. His face was hovering over hers, eyes wild as he stared down, and she was sure her eyes were as wild, if not more. His hands were gripping her large tits as they rolled around over her chest, and he leaned closer until he was resting his forehead against hers.

"Mine," he growled, and no sound had felt more arousing. She felt owned, and she loved every bit of it.

"Yes, my lord," she breathed erotically, the thrill of their lovemaking slowly driving her over the edge. Her climax was approaching at a breakneck pace, and her toes curled as she readied herself for the inevitable explosion.

"I'm going to gift you something, Cissa," he grunted amidst thrusts, his breathing labored, indicating his impending climax as well.

"I'd be honored, my lord!" she cried out. "I am yours, and so is this new life you've given me. There is nothing more that would please me."

"I'm glad," he grunted and she heard him whisper something. She had no time to ponder on it as she cried out in abject pleasure. Her body seized up, and her inner walls clamped around him, making him grunt as the head of his cock expanded inside her. She gushed around him, her orgasm crashing through her in tidal waves, and cried out in ecstasy at the feeling of her lord's hot seed shooting deep inside her. He held her flush against himself, kissing her furiously as he shot load after thick load of his cum deep inside her womb, and the thought of his seed taking root inside her sent Narcissa gushing even more around him.

She came down from her orgasmic high, breathing heavily, and her eyes widened when she felt him still shooting his seed deep inside her. Her lord was a magnificent wizard without an equal. There was no way he was any less virile. Like the faithful that she was, she took everything he gave her with utmost gratitude.

Finally, he pulled out of her and rolled off her body, and Narcissa felt the remnants of his load slowly trickling out of her gushing quim. She reached down and probed her sodden lips, feeling the sticky semen on her fingers before she brought her fingers up to her mouth and sucked them clean.

"Look down," he whispered as he stared at her, and Narcissa looked down. Her eyes widened at the sight of a golden lightning bolt right below her navel, stretching down to her lower lips. The mark glowed like starlight, and Narcissa had never felt so blessed before. It pulsed, and she realized it was magical. She turned over to look at him and found him smiling at her. The meaning dawned on her immediately.

"This mark signifies the bond we share now," he said. "Nothing like the vile dark mark of Voldemort. We have this bond now. I'm sure you can feel it too."

Wordlessly, Narcissa nodded. She could feel his power wafting over her, encasing her in a protective cocoon. She felt as if nothing could ever harm her as long as he was there.

"I can feel your magic as well," he whispered, stroking her sweaty back tenderly. "You are a proper daughter of the House of Black."

Narcissa sighed as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush against himself. His hot seed was still seeping out of her and she clenched her lower lips to keep as much of it inside her as she could. He turned her face toward his and planted a soft kiss on her lips, and Narcissa could feel the love it carried.

"I never knew I could ever feel like this," she whispered. The feeling of love and care was so overwhelming that she felt like she could fly forever. She kissed him again, and Harry smiled.

He knew he was never letting go of her, and how could he? She was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. He also knew that she would never part from him either. They would be together now.

His hands gently stroked her skin until he caressed her waist and ran his hand over her belly. Slowly, he reached upward and grabbed her breast, giving it a soft squeeze and smiling when she mewled cutely.

"My lord I—"

"Shh…" he whispered against her lips, pecking them softly and pulling her flush against him. "We'll talk tomorrow. For now, rest."

Narcissa smiled and buried herself into his warm embrace and in no time, she was fast asleep.

Meanwhile, Harry looked down at her naked body against his and chuckled.

"I wish Malfoy could see us now, see how I fucked his mom."

TBC.

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Chapter Text

Harry groaned and lifted his hips as Narcissa's soft pink lips tightened around the head of his cock, sucking while her tongue swirled around the sensitive skin. He had to admit that there was no better way to wake up.

His hands reached down and he gently caressed her silky smooth blonde hair, making the woman preen. Her eyes looked up at him adoringly through those long eyelashes. Despite having been married for over two decades, she was still somewhat a novice when it came to giving head, but he was nothing but patient. In some ways, it was oddly cathartic to discover that she and Lucius had not had much sex in their married life. He would ensure she became one of the best lays he'd ever had.

It was Sunday morning, and befitting the name, the sun was high up in the sky, glaring down at the urban landscape of Islington. It also meant today was an off day for him if he chose – a choice that was obvious considering the situation he was currently in, and as such, he could fully indulge in the ministrations of his new lover without thinking about work.

Reclined on the comfortable bed covered with lavish silk with his back propped up against the headboard, a collection of pillows and cushions behind him, Harry had made himself a perfect angle to take in the alluring sight of his former wannabe rival's mother pleasuring him.

'No longer his mother. She's a different woman now. My woman,' he thought with an odd sort of thrill.

She pulled away from his dick and smiled at him before dropping a smooth kiss on the tip. Giggling at the way his manhood lurched, she dove in once again, taking only the head inside her mouth and sucking gently.

Harry was oddly urged to grab her head and simply shove his cock as deep inside her mouth as he could, making her gag around his member until tears streamed down her lovely face. The sight of her face in his mind, painted white with his seed was inviting.

He resisted the urge though, content in letting her play out the role of a genuine lover – an equal in this new relationship, no matter what the reality was. His hand gently caressed her head before he threaded his fingers into her silky, smooth platinum-blonde hair, gently pushing her further downward. His length slowly forced its way inside her mouth, burying halfway. Narcissa coughed softly, spittle flying out of her mouth as she quickly resumed swirling her tongue around him.

Her sultry gray eyes looked up at him, arousal shining in those orbs as she dove further down, burying his entire length inside her mouth in one firm push. On her hands and knees with her lovely rump raised high in the air, Harry was catered to the heavenly view of this alluring goddess worshipping his cock. She engaged his balls smoothly, cupping and squeezing the sack as she played with them. Harry hissed at the double assault and his grip on her hair tightened slightly. Wrapping her lustrous hair in a fist, Harry started to slowly buck his hips up, fucking her throat.

"Merlin your mouth feels so good," he groaned. "Ah yes, play with them, baby."

Narcissa hummed around his cock in pleasure, and Harry chuckled to himself. Her cravings for approval and praise were something new, something he had never expected. She had always seemed so prim and proper – a quintessential matriarch of a pureblood household, and yet, she seemed so starved for positive attention and appreciation. It all played smoothly in his hand, and Harry was all too eager to shower her with all the love, attention, and appreciation she had sorely missed.

The bond was strong, but positive reinforcement went a long way to solidifying any prospective relationship, insurance notwithstanding.

However, he had to wonder whether this behavior was truly exclusive to her or it was the way this bond was working. She was entirely obedient to him, and as such, it made sense for her to feel this way whenever he praised her. However, he preferred to believe it was a personality quirk and not the bond that made her like this.

'Perhaps I'll know more in the future, when I take things further,' he thought to himself.

For now, though, this goddess deserved his entire attention and it was his attention she would get. With one hand fisting her blonde hair and the other resting on the bed, Harry began to thrust his hips upward. His cock repeatedly slid inside her mouth, caressing her wet tongue and the tip buried continuously inside her throat. For her part, Narcissa was slightly struggling but in no way was she backing away. She did her best at trying to take his length inside her throat.

As previously envisioned, tears of ecstasy were slithering out of her eyes, flowing down her cheek and falling on the bed as she held herself in place between his legs, taking the throat-fucking the best she could. One hand squeezed her dangling breast while the other continued to fondle his balls, trying with all its might to squeeze his hot, potent seed out. He could feel himself getting ready to shoot his load, and he knew he was seconds away from erupting.

"I'm close, Cissa. Be sure to swallow it all, you hear?" He grunted. Narcissa's response was to blink once as her fondling intensified, and with a final groan, he gave one last thrust, shooting his hips upward and slamming his manhood inside her mouth. The head of his cock expanded and he shot his load relentlessly inside her mouth. Rope after rope of his hot, sticky spunk splattered the insides of her mouth and throat, making her work hard to gulp it all down.

Narcissa eagerly took it all in, her eyes widening slightly when he showed no sign of stopping. Harry simply stared at the thrilling sight of his lover as she swallowed every last bit of his seed that he gave her.

Aside from the sheer sexual satisfaction he felt at the sight, he felt something else that confused, excited, and delighted him. His magic seemed to sing as he gave her his seed, and inadvertently his eyes fell on the vine of lightning bolts tattooed right over his heart. The mark was gently pulsing and he looked over as Narcissa slowly pulled her mouth off his cock, swallowing the last vestiges of his cum. She gave him a lovely grin and pushed herself on her hands, sitting on all fours in front of him. His eyes trailed down her front, over her dangling tits encased in nothing to her torso before slithering down her abdomen where her mark was. Just like his, the singular lightning bolt was pulsing gently before the glow subsided. Narcissa noticed it all and smiled in bliss.

"I've never felt something like this before," she whispered, softly caressing her mark as she sat back, and Harry took her hand, pulling her close. She draped herself across his front, looking up at him.

"Like what?"

Narcissa smiled and nuzzled him softly.

"So appreciated, so safe, so satisfied…" she replied. "And so much loved already."

Harry chuckled.

"I hope you don't take this for granted."

"Never, my lord!" She shook her head vehemently, and Harry was slightly surprised at the sheer honesty in her voice. "I'll never stop cherishing this gift you've given me."

Her eyes softened and she continued, "You saved my life, and in doing so, you gave me another life. I was an old woman, undesirable. And yet you desired me, despite everything. That means the world to me. And then you gave me your love. So much respect as well. I can't explain how much it all means to me."

Harry gave her a small smile.

"And that's not to mention the magic we share thanks to this bond," she said with a loving smile. "I can feel your power, my lord. Flowing through me since last evening. Since you gave me your seed. I've never felt such raw power before, and it makes me feel so safe, as if I carry a part of you inside me."

Harry's eyes widened slightly.

"You're not…"

Narcissa shook her head.

"I'm not yet," she replied quickly before her face grew slightly shy. "But I won't mind it either."

Over the bond, Harry got the vision of a dark-haired child with her gray eyes running around, and he looked at her.

"I see," he replied. "One day, I promise."

Narcissa beamed and leaned up to kiss him gently.

"So what you're saying is that you've got some of my magic thanks to this bond we share?"

Narcissa nodded.

"There are tales of old that we used to read a long time ago. There are two sides a massively powerful wizard can take – one can either nullify their sexuality entirely or one can fully embrace it. In the past century, I can only imagine three wizards apart from you who have broken the limits that exists for normal witches and wizards."

"Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and Riddle," Harry completed for her.

"Indeed. And it is common knowledge that none of them ever had a lover. There were rumors about Dumbledore and Grindelwald being involved with each other but no one knows how much truth there is to them. As for the last one, he tainted his magic so much that no urges remained with him afterward."

Harry nodded. That checked out with what he knew of those wizards as well.

"For you though, it is evident that you are embracing this part of your magic, and I cannot help but feel like the luckiest witch in the whole wide world that you chose me to be one of your lovers," Narcissa said softly. Her hair framed around them, falling in a curtain as her face hovered mere inches above his. Harry gently tucked one side behind her ear and started to caress her naked back gently.

"So you are okay with the arrangement then?"

Narcissa chuckled.

"I somewhat assumed that would be the case when I first saw the mark you awarded me with," she replied. "And truth be told, it was not surprising either. The power I have felt through our bond is legendary, and it makes absolute sense that you will need numerous witches to both satiate yourself and keep this power in check."

Harry nodded. Carnal acts were among the most basic needs of humans, and sexual magic, although a forbidden art, was an open secret. The ministry might have banned the practice of rituals, but the knowledge was there to obtain for someone determined enough. He had delved into those arts himself, or rather, Voldemort had, before he decided to not bother with what he considered animalistic tendencies that were beneath a superior being like him.

With a content sigh, he pulled her closer and wrapped his arm around her slender frame. She was young, but she was as busty as she had previously been. Lucius was truly a dumbfuck for never appreciating a goddess like her. Smiling, he buried his face in her hair and breathed in her unique scent.

He knew he was a depraved man, but it seemed his depravity also stemmed from the fact that he was a magically powerful wizard. He had desires that not all women would share, but something told him any woman he claimed as his would happily share his kinks. His hand that was stroking her back descended under them and he swiped the traces of his cum off the bed. Bringing his hand up from under them, he held the fingers aloft in front of her face.

Narcissa needed no prompt, and without any hesitation whatsoever, she leaned forward and took his fingers in her mouth. Harry watched, thrilled, as her eyes stared at him seductively, feeling her sinful tongue swirling around his finger, licking his seed off. Even though she had swallowed such a massive load mere minutes ago, this act felt much more arousing.

His cock acted up in no time, and Narcissa giggled when she felt it poking her lower lips. She rolled her pussy over his length before she trapped it between her folds. Slowly, she began sliding back and forth and hoisted herself on his lap, her hands holding her aloft as she grabbed his shoulders in support.

"I can't have enough of this magnificent cock," she whispered sultrily as she reached behind herself, aligning the tip of his rod against her entrance.

"You say you feel lucky to have me," he grunted as she dropped, slamming her pussy over his cock. "You've no idea how good it feels to be with you."

Narcissa looked at him with a sultry grin and Harry laid back as the blonde began bouncing on his cock. Her heavenly globes rolled around freely as she planted her hands on his chest. Harry's eyes were fixed on the alluring sight. Any further thinking could wait.

-Break-

It was an hour later when Harry was sitting in the bath as Narcissa rubbed his back with the enchanted cleaning liquid. Magic was a marvel, and so were the products the solitary Weasley twin had come up with. Harry knew most of those products had been devised by the twins before Fred's premature death, but George was doing a good enough job to carry on with the innovations by himself.

The Fresh-Refresh Bathing Essentials had been a massive hit with the wizarding populace, racking up galleons for both the WWW and Harry who still held a third of the stock.

He made himself comfortable in the bath with his hands leaning on the edges on either side as Narcissa sat behind him, rubbing the thick potion over his back. Her hands slowly came around, rubbing the potion all over his front and Harry relished the feel of her lovely tits that she rubbed all over his back. Her wet body was sinful, and her wet hair dangled over his shoulder as she leaned forward, soaping up his crotch and rubbing it. She was one meticulous woman, he had to admit.

"What have you decided about the other women, my lord?" She asked softly, her hot breath ghosting over his ear and Harry could feel himself getting hard again. Narcissa noticed and smirked as she began stroking his cock with her hand covered in bubbles while the other hand fondled his balls.

Harry forced himself to think, which was not easy considering the ministrations of this buxom blonde. Her tits were squashed against his back, and her hands were showing no signs of relenting either. It was as if she was hellbent on coaxing as much seed out of him as she could before more women entered the fray.

"I surely am going to go ahead with that, and there are a few names I have in mind. Witches who I know very well and are very capable, both magically and otherwise."

"Nothing less than you deserve," Narcissa whispered in agreement. "I can think of several. Even though a few of them might have fallen from grace after the war, there is no denying the beauty or abilities of those women."

"I assume you are talking about women from formerly Death Eater families?"

"Not all were directly involved. Most of them were in the same situation I was – having no choice but to follow because we belonged to those families. When the war ended and the families were persecuted, many of them have been having a hard time."

"I see. You want me to somehow rescue them and make them indebted to myself, am I right?"

Narcissa smiled and dropped a soft kiss along the side of his neck.

"That could be one way, or you could perhaps catch them in the act and force them to submit? I can think of a few who would fit that criteria nicely, and I can see you find this idea more interesting," she whispered, feeling how his hardened cock throbbed in her hand at the suggestion.

"You know what?" He rasped in a gravelly voice as he took her hand and quickly turned her around, pulling her onto his lap so that her back was against his chest. Narcissa let out a surprised yelp as her pussy was planted right over his hard member. "I think it is a very good idea, and I'm sure I could count on your help."

Narcissa felt him grab her large, gravity-defying tits and squeeze harshly, and she relished the dominating treatment her lover gave her. As he mauled her tits, she turned her head to the side and looked behind her at his face that was mere inches away from hers.

"Always, my lord," she replied with a sultry grin as he slammed his lips against hers.

-Break-

One benefit of having a borderline criminal as your lover was the knowledge of where the other criminals frequently made a pit stop. As such, it was not tough for Harry to spot what was obviously a crime scene.

'At least Cissa had the consideration to do it in a wizard's shop, shady it might be,' he thought, staring at his target who had chosen to pawn off the artifacts in the muggle world.

Harry could easily guess the reason. Unlike the wizarding world, there were fewer auror patrols in the muggle world since it was so vast and despite the auror force being a force to be reckoned with now, it was still not too large in terms of personnel.

Second, no one in the muggle world knew the plight of old pureblood families in Wizarding Britain, and as such, the shopkeepers would not quote a deliberately lower price to take advantage of those who needed the money.

Third, and most important, was the value the muggles put in artifacts that looked like antique objects from centuries ago. It was much more than what they were valued at in the wizarding world, where the value was decided based on enchantments. The muggles, however, put stock in what the object was made of and what it looked like. The more valuable and intricate the build was, the higher the price it fetched.

Harry understood that, but there was no denying that this was a crime – plain and simple. These were dark or borderline dark artifacts. Even though the muggles could not use them because they needed magic to be activated, there was no telling what enchantment an object carried. It could be catastrophic, and Harry cursed himself for this silly oversight.

He had disguised himself as a regular muggle wearing a jeans and jacket combination with boots – something nondescript in this part of the city and he aimlessly trailed behind the woman. He scoffed at her posture – haughty as always.

'Lost their teeth, but didn't lose their nature, it seems,' he thought to himself. He could not wait to properly break this woman under him. It was nothing less than she deserved after everything she had done ever since they were eleven.

He knew she was all bark and no bite, and it was unsurprising that she had not noticed him. He walked a few paces behind her at a sedate pace, quietly observing her. She was covered from neck to toe, with a puffer coat covering her body that fell below her knees. He did not need to be an auror to discern that she was hiding several artifacts underneath that coat. It was a cold day in Birmingham, more than usual, so her attire made perfect sense. He had to give her at least that. She had chosen a good day to do this. No one would bat an eye upon seeing her attire. At least no one who either knew her or was aware of what she was usually involved in.

It was not a sustainable source of income – trying to pawn off magical artifacts. You were bound to run out of them soon. However, desperate times called for desperate measures. He looked around and saw that they were entering the shady part of the town on its outskirts, and he decided to nip the bud quickly.

The moment she turned the corner and entered the deserted alley covered in snow, Harry twisted on the spot and appeared right in front of her. The woman failed to stop and walked into him. Her eyes widened in alarm as she stepped back.

"Long time no see," he said with a grin.

"P-Potter!?" She stammered, her eyes wide in surprise and fear. "W-what are you d-doing here?"

"I don't recall you having a stutter, Miss Parkinson," he said with an infuriating smile on his face as he stood there, relaxed. Pansy quickly tried to apparate before her eyes widened.

"Yeah, you can't apparate," he replied, still smirking.

"W-what do you want?" She asked nervously.

"For starters, I'd prefer it if you cut to the chase and just admit what's going on here," he replied with a flippant shake of his hand.

Pansy said nothing. She knew he was well aware of what was going on, and she wondered who ratted her out. Their group was a little one, and she knew her associates would need help to fold. They were all in the same boat, after all.

She had a feeling that something bad was going to happen. Muggles were always bad news, and the first time she tried to pawn off some of the Parkinson family goods in the muggle world, she was caught before she could even do anything. But there was little choice they had. The aurors had been keeping a close eye on every shady business in Wizarding Britain, so going ahead with this little plan made sense.

Pansy stared at Potter and furiously racked her brain to come up with something. She did not want to get arrested. The prospect of spending even a minute in that horrid prison terrified her. It was a fate worse than death and she would do anything to avoid it.

"P-potter… I know we've not had a very good history with each other…"

"That's an understatement if I ever heard one," he chuckled. "I'm still waiting for your confession, Parkinson."

Pansy grimaced. She knew she had to do something about Potter. She knew there was no way she could win against him. He had killed the Dark Lord and so many of his followers after all. All she could hope was to get a sneak attack on him, and for that, she needed to have him at his most vulnerable. It was her only hope to get out of this situation.

The beginnings of a plan began to form in her mind, and Pansy adopted the most innocent face she could muster. She knew he had this thing where he wanted to help people. He had saved the Malfoys, after all. If that could happen, even she could do something. She only hoped it worked on him.

It didn't. Harry took one look at that fake expression on the brunette's face and scoffed to himself.

'Trying to act all innocent, as if you're a damsel in distress? Guess I'll humor you a bit,' he thought, chuckling to himself.

"After the war, things have been very bad for my house," she whispered, looking down. "Father was killed and mother killed herself. Our businesses were taken over, and all sources of income went down the drain. I had no choice but to do this."

"Why not go for a job, like regular people?"

Pansy looked up at him, and Harry had to give it to her. That tearful expression was truly jarring.

"And who would hire the daughter of a Death Eater?" She asked brokenly. "No one wants to do anything with people like me. I can't exactly die, can I? Have to do something to keep the food on the plate."

"I understand," Harry sighed, and Pansy looked up at him. "Things have been really bad. I get it. Still, I'm sorry but I have to do what protocol dictates, Parkinson."

"W-wait, please don't send me to Azkaban!" She cried out frantically.

"You are not going to Azkaban, woman. You've not even had an interrogation, let alone a trial. Just what do you think we aurors do?" He asked in slight disbelief. No matter how much she was acting right now, there was an inkling of fear in her expression right now. Only an inkling though. Most of her act was still that – an act.

Harry rubbed his face. "You're going to come with me to the DMLE and you will go through a proper interrogation. Meanwhile, I'll be keeping these as evidence."

Before Pansy could blink, the bottomless bag she had been hiding under her coat appeared in Potter's hand and he put it away.

"W-what? DMLE!?" She whispered.

Harry nodded. "That's what protocol says. Come on, the quicker we get this over with, the better it is."

"W-wait, Potter! Can you please not take me to the DMLE?" She asked pleadingly. "The Parkinson name has been tarnished beyond repair, and if you take me there, people will know. I beg you, please don't take me there. I'll do anything you ask. I'll fully cooperate with this. Just keep this private. Please!"

Harry stared at her for a long moment. The usual protocol dictated any interrogation would take place inside the DMLE but he had the option to interrogate her outside the premises as well. It was at his discretion though.

"The least punishment for your offense is a fine, Parkinson. You can rest assured that your name will be getting out once we file the paperwork. Even though most people won't know about it, the DMLE would."

"I can take that much," she replied immediately. "I know most of the DMLE doesn't have a favorable opinion of me anyway."

Harry stared at her for a few minutes before he nodded.

"Alright. Grab on then," he replied as he held out his arm. Pansy hesitantly reached out and grabbed hold of his arm and they apparated away immediately, leaving nothing but the traces of their footsteps into the snowy alley.

-Break-

"Where are we?" Pansy asked, looking around herself. They were in front of a one-story house and she observed that almost all the houses looked somewhat similar.

"Just a house I own. Don't worry, it's an abandoned muggle area so no one would intrude or identify you here even if someone comes here.

Pansy nodded and walked with him inside the house. There was a staircase to her right, and she saw a small cupboard under the stairs before he led her through the door to the left. It was a small living room that was spotlessly clean. There were couches in the middle and a fireplace to her right. A few photo frames were on the mantlepiece, and to her left was another door that led out into the garden.

"Have a seat then," he said as he sat down, and Pansy took her seat gingerly. This was perfect for the plan she was brewing, and she didn't let her excitement show on her face. She saw him flick his wand and a notepad hovered in the air with a quill suspended over it.

"Standard auror-grade materials. We'll begin the interrogation now. State your name and address for the record."

Pansy sighed and did as she was told. She had no choice but to be patient. Her time was sure to come soon, and when it did, she would be free of this little blot on her record. She had been a bratty girl in her youth. She knew that. But she'd never had a criminal record to her name, despite how depraved her family was. There was no way she was going to let her name get tarnished more than it already was.

Harry kept up with the questions and the quill noted her answers. As he had expected, things were indeed dire for those families and almost all of them had resorted to getting rid of artifacts or jewels. A part of him could sympathize with them. They had been forced to commit this crime because of a combination of several factors – their fall from grace, their upbringing, and their inability to let go of the life they once had.

'If only they could bear living like a regular person,' Harry could not help but remark to himself. He knew they could not find jobs in regular establishments, but the ministry always had vacancies. A few children of junior Death Eaters who had not been from prominent pureblood families had even joined several departments, including the DMLE. They were well on their way to living a content life like a normal person.

'Not these people though. They have been so used to this life of opulence and extravagance that a ministry job is unbecoming of people like them, at least in their eyes. As I thought, lost their teeth but didn't lose their nature.'

Harry had little sympathy for Parkinson, no matter what sob story she spun for him. He knew she was up to something. There was no way he was going to take her word at face value. As the interrogation continued, he became acutely aware of something.

Her movements reminded him of something, and he had to chuckle to himself. She had discarded her large, thick coat, blaming the heat inside the house. Now that she was in casual attire, he could easily make out the subtle signs she was sending. She kept crossing and uncrossing her legs every few seconds, and as he observed closely, she had her chest thrust out more than what was normal. Her clothes hugged her generous curves, and no matter what her personality was, Harry had to admit that she had a body to kill for.

It was nothing new for him. He had been faced with several women who had tried this trick on him. He had never shown any interest in them, always opting to stay strictly professional.

'Perhaps now's the time to spice things up a bit,' he thought to himself as he looked at her meaningfully.

Pansy could barely hold back the smirk of triumph as she felt him ogle her. She knew discarding her coat was a great idea. He was interested. Now it fell on her to convince him even further.

Harry Potter was a very capable wizard, and there was no way she could take him down unless he was at his most vulnerable. He would kill her at least ten times over before she could even reach for her wand. She was short on time, and there was only one way for her to ensure he reached that state of utter negligence. No man could keep his senses in the throes of passion, and the moment of climax was any man's weakest. She would simply have to wait for a little while, and once she brought him to his peak, she would strike.

She did not have the intention to kill Harry Potter today, but to save her hide, she had no choice but to do the deed. She needed him to reach that state with her, and as much as it galled her to give herself to him like that, she knew it was necessary.

'At least I'll have some fun while I do it,' she thought to herself as she took in his sight.

Her web was coming along nicely, and once she laid it out properly, it would only be a matter of time before he was trapped like a fly and at her mercy.

Harry stared at the brunette as the interrogation came to an end. He had a very good idea of what was coming, and he wondered if he should play with her a bit. As he looked at her, he had to admit that she had a nice body with very attractive features and he knew he would have a great time with her. After all, there was a reason why Malfoy always kept her, at least until their fifth year, and it was most certainly not for her personality, which was frankly abhorrent.

In the end, it was an easy decision. He would take the opportunity by the horns. Nothing would save Pansy Parkinson from becoming a shivering mess by the time he was done with her, and once they were done, he would have a very good servant ready to cater to his every whim. The woman deserved nothing less.

Harry grinned to himself as his magic sang in anticipation. Indeed it was time.

TBC.

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Chapter Text

“Is that all then?” Harry asked once the interrogation was done, flicking his wand to stop the quill. He grabbed the parchment and looked it over, nodding.

“Yes,” she replied, faking a morose expression before she looked at him and bit her lower lip softly. “Say… Potter… do you really have to turn me in?”

“Hmm? Obviously I do,” Harry replied with a chuckle.

Pansy looked at him and leaned back before she spread her legs apart, smirking when his eyes found their solace in the glaring space between her legs.

“I’m sure we could reach some sort of… compromise,” she whispered, as sexily as she could.

Harry’s eyes remained trained on the spot between her legs and he could see that she was wearing a black lace underneath.

‘Nothing but the most expensive for the most spoiled brats of Britain,’ he thought to himself.

“You know how these things work, Parkinson, being from a family of cunts, after all,” Harry replied with a chuckle, ignoring how her jaw tightened at the insult. She maintained her sultry expression, however, and Harry had to give it to her. She was one determined bitch. Looking at her with a meaningful smirk, he leaned back and made himself comfortable.

“Get on your hands and knees,” he instructed firmly. Pansy hid a sneer and did as she was told.

“Crawl toward me.”

She was slightly taken aback by the authoritative tone, having never heard him speak like that. A part of her could not help but tingle at the way he was treating her.

Down on her hands and knees, Pansy began slowly crawling forward, head bowed as a submissive, until her head was between his legs.

“Kneel on your knees now.”

Pansy obeyed, no matter how much she wanted to just get it over with. One spell was all it would have taken for her to kill him, but she knew she could not give her hand away until he was at his weakest. A small misstep would spell her doom.

“Unzip me.”

She slowly lifted her hands to reach for the zip when he interrupted her.

“Not with your hands. You have that bitchy mouth, don’t you? Use it.”

Although slightly surprised, Pansy complied. She reached forward and could not help but inhale his masculine scent as her teeth held the zip. She slowly dragged it down.

“See? You’re good at following instructions. No wonder you made it to NEWT potions, despite Snape being the bastard that he was,” Harry smirked. “You can use your hands to pull my pants down now.”

Pansy obliged, unbuttoning him first before pulling them down. Despite not having been instructed, she took off his shoes and socks as well, leaving his lower body clad in only his boxers. The small tent was already visible, and she mentally scoffed at the thought of what a small dick he had.

“My shirt now, if you would,” Harry replied, having taken off his jacket already. “Uh-huh, stay on your knees while you do it.”

Pansy paused and lowered herself to her knees once again as she reached upward. Her eyes remained trained downward as she unbuttoned his shirt one by one. Once she was done, she pulled it off his body and threw it to the side.

“I’m not an entirely cruel bastard, Parkinson. You can look,” he said with a chuckle, and Pansy did as she had been doing so far. She obliged.

Her eyes ran over his body and she could not help but admit to herself that he was one handsome bloke. He was not built like a bodybuilder but he had a perfectly toned body with visible musculature. Too bad the same could not be said about his manhood which, while not visible yet, did not seem promising.

“You left something,” he remarked, looking meaningfully at her. He could see the fire in her eyes even though she maintained that façade of a willing participant and he smirked. Degrading someone had never been more fitting.

Pansy grabbed the waistband of his boxers and Harry lifted his hips. She pulled them off and as she looked at his manhood, her eyes shot open in surprise.

‘It’s barely hard, and yet it’s as big as Draco’s,’ she thought to herself, reevaluating her previous analysis of his appendage.

“Well? Go on, put that bitchy mouth to some better use,” he instructed.

Pansy had some choice words for this son of a bitch but now was not the time to act out. Her plan was progressing nicely and it required her to comply. Nodding like the little submissive she was portraying herself, she reached forward and made to grab his cock which was still not fully erect.

“Stop,” he instructed, and she abruptly paused, looking up at him in confusion. He smirked. “Hands behind your back and lean forward. Play with my balls for a bit. And put yourself into it. I’d hate it if you slack off, and trust me, I’ll know.”

Pansy was surprised by the demand. She had thought he’d ask for a normal blowjob, and she would stimulate him so much that the moment he was about to erupt, she would take him out. However, it seemed she had underestimated his depravity. Having no choice but to follow, and to the best of her ability at that, she leaned forward and gave his testicles a long lick.

Harry smirked as he watched her worship his balls. She dropped kisses all over his ballsack, pressing her full lips over the wrinkly skin and he could see that she was genuinely putting an effort. Her facial expression was one of wonderment mixed with affection as she pushed her tongue forward, lapping away at his balls as if they were scoops of her favorite ice cream.

Pansy had to admit that she was having some fun right now. She had been in this position a lot of times previously but never had someone asked her to worship his nuts. The most she had done was a blowjob. It was an entirely new experience for her and she went about it with utmost enthusiasm. Her plan depended on how dedicated to it she was, after all.

She popped them into her mouth one by one and sucked furiously, staring up at him as she did so. His eyes had something feral to them – lust so palpable she could feel it in those emerald orbs of his, and she smirked to herself. The more aroused he got, the more clouded his senses will get. It would make her job much easier.

For Harry though, the sight of the brunette on her knees in front of him with her hands held behind her, her mouth full of his balls, and her eyes staring right into his, full of sinful promises, was beyond thrilling. Even more thrilling was her identity. Pansy Parkinson – the resident bitch of his year at Hogwarts and the most devoted of the late Draco Malfoy. Safe to say, Harry relished both the experience and the sight. He was in no way satisfied though.

While Pansy was rolling his balls around in her mouth and staring up at him, Harry took a moment to grab his erect length, and without a care in the world, he began rubbing it over her face. Her eyes widened slightly at the debauchery he subjected her to.

“Pull back now,” he instructed, and as the woman obliged, he instructed her to clean her spit off his balls. “Your face will make a nice wiping mop, don’t you think?”

Pansy did not need to be told twice, and with little to no hesitation, she leaned forward and rubbed his balls all over her face, smearing it with the remnants of her saliva. A sharp tingle of arousal shot through her at the way he was degrading her.

“Good girl,” he praised. “That’s the look I like on your face. Suits you much better than the usual pureblood look you keep. I have half a mind to force you to stay like this forever.”

‘In your dreams, asshole,’ Pansy thought. ‘You’d be dead soon.’

“But we should get a move on, don’t you think?” He said with an amused smile. “Stand up and walk back three steps. Hands behind you as usual.”

Pansy stood up with a slight struggle, considering she had been on her knees for almost ten minutes, with her hands behind her and her mouth occupied. She did not turn around and with her eyes trained on his face, she walked three steps backward.

“Good. Seeing how I’m naked here, I’d like you to get rid of all that baggage as well,” he instructed before smirking, “but put on a proper show for me. I’m sure a slut like you has some experience with a little bit of striptease.”

Pansy bit back a retort at the insult. His life was ending in a little while anyway. If he wanted to go out after a show, then the least she could do was give him a good one.

‘Poor Harry Potter,’ she thought with pity as she looked at him with a seductive smile.

She reached down and lifted her skirt slowly, baring her thigh covered halfway with her dark stockings but taking care to reveal only a few inches of her bare skin. Bending accordingly, she gave him a tantalizing view of her panty-clad mound for only a second before she pulled her skirt down again. She took care not to reveal too much, putting adequate effort into the act. A small part of her wanted to just rush it all, but the larger one – the one that loathed this smug bastard wanted him to experience the entire package before he took his last breath.

Swaying from side to side, she turned around so that her back was facing him. Looking behind at him, she slowly unbuttoned her top and parted it. Her right shoulder was freed first, revealing the black bra strap, followed by her right arm in its entirety. Her top now hung over the left half of her body and she slowly pulled it away, throwing it on the couch she had been sitting on. Her top was covered in only her black lace and she winked at him.

Harry watched, attentively, as she began working on her skirt once she took her top off, and it took her only a minute to let it fall on the floor and step out of it with a shimmy. His eyes feasted on her attractive cleavage as she turned around and stood there in only her bra and panties, ready to begin the centerpiece of her tease.

She smirked at him, scantily clad yet hiding her naughtiest bits as she walked toward him sexily and planted herself sideways in his lap.

“You can touch me, you know?” She whispered erotically. “There’s no hands-off policy at play here.”

His hands wandered up and down her body, caressing her bare stomach and waist and brushing the underside of her breasts, much to her approval if her soft moans were anything to go by. Yet, she did not let him touch her for a prolonged period and pulled away before too long, keeping him wanting more.

Stepping away with a jump that sent her tits jumping about within the confines of her bra and teasing him even more, she gave him a saucy grin and slipped off one of her bra straps with agonizing slowness. She repeated the same with the other, and once both her straps were held against her upper arm, she pulled the tight straps back over her shoulders, giving her disappointed audience a sly smile. She knew she was teasing him, and she loved every second of it.

She knew he was getting impatient, but she also knew his pride would not let him tell her to hurry up. She spent more than ten minutes doing absolutely nothing but teasing him with her moves, repeating the bra strap routine multiple times, and testing his resolve. He did not crumble, and she had to give him credit for that.

Finally, she turned around, facing away from him once again, and knowing he was watching her intently, she reached behind and unclasped her bra. The fabric came loose, held up only by the straps over her shoulders and she slowly pulled them off her arms, holding the cups over her tits. She knew her breasts were attractive – easily more than a handful with no sag to them – and she also knew he must be dying to lay his eyes on them. Keeping her back to him, she looked behind herself and saw the pure lust in his eyes. His cock was at full mast, and no matter what she had been planning, she was excitedly looking forward to having that piece of meat inside her. As his would-be killer, she deserved to have that treat at least once, she thought with a giggle.

She threw the bra on the same couch and with no hurry at all, she turned around. However, she kept her hands over her tits, hiding her hard nipples from his gaze. The thought of making him wait so much for it made her giddy. Still holding her hands over her tits, she walked forward and stood between his legs. His eyes were trained on hers, and with a smirk, she bent in front of him, bringing her tits lever with his face.

“You can always tell me to hurry up if you can’t wait,” she decided to tease him.

“Go on as you’ve been,” he replied with a gravelly voice that sent a shiver through her. She had never heard him speak like that to anyone, and it made her core tingle with desire.

She stood up and slowly removed her hands from her breasts, revealing them entirely for his viewing pleasure. He gave her an appreciative nod in response. Pansy smirked.

Walking back and making sure his eyes were trained on her swaying tits, she turned around. Slowly, she bent over, giving him a glimpse of her plump rear hiked high in the air. Her fingers grasped the waistband of her panties and she teased him, pulling them away from her waist and swaying her hips before releasing them. The bands hit her skin with a loud snap every time she did that.

Little by little, she edged the waistband down her hips, all the while swaying them about. She looked behind herself and smirked as she brought it back in place. She repeated the process multiple times, teasing him with a slight glimpse of her puckered hold before she pulled her panties back in place. Yet, he never crumbled.

Finally, she slowly slid her panties over her lips and down her legs before daintily stepping out of them and giving him a generous view of her womanhood. She bent down, even more, to pick the black lace up and made to throw it away when his voice stopped her.

“Give that to me,” he instructed. Pansy stood up and turned around, baring herself in all her glory to him before she threw her panties at him. He caught the piece of fabric and right in front of her eyes, he sniffed them. Her eyes widened slightly.

“I’ll be keeping this one,” he stated. Pansy smirked, letting him do as he pleased. He was a guest on this planet for a few more minutes anyway.

“I hope that wasn’t enough to make you shoot,” She remarked with a perverse grin. Harry looked at her in amusement. He truly looked forward to breaking this bitch.

“Why don’t you come over here and see for yourself?” He replied instead, gesturing toward his erect cock. Pansy looked at it once again and she reaffirmed it to herself. It was indeed the most magnificent cock she had ever laid eyes on. Such a shame that it belonged to this bastard who was going to die today. She won’t have minded having him as a lover if things were different.

Pushing those thoughts away, she let herself enjoy this moment and readied herself for both some pleasure and her task. She walked forward and with her legs on either side of his body, she descended her abdomen slowly until the tip of his large manhood, leaking precum, touched her vulva.

A wave of apprehension coursed through her. She’d never had something so big and thick inside her before. However, she reminded herself what she was doing this for.

In one smooth motion, she brought her body downward, allowing his raging hard-on to slip between her labia and all the way into her pussy. She kept pushing downward until she had taken his entire length in one push, and she shivered as she let out a drawn-out moan of pleasure as his thick length speared her. Never had she felt so full. Never had something made her feel like this. Without even thinking about it, she lifted her body back up, and down again, repeating the motion and loving the feeling of Harry’s remarkable cock pumping in and out of her dripping snatch.

“Oooohhhh fuckkk yesss,” she moaned.

Her eyes were closed and her hands were gripping the back of the couch as she rocked her ass on his cock. Her bare tits were bouncing about as she fucked herself raw on his length, and she focused on the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of her pussy. No other man had made her feel like this, and they had only begun fucking.

She rode his throbbing cock even faster as she pulled back to look at him, and his hands slowly slid up her ass. He grabbed her cheeks firmly and squeezed as she fucked herself on him. Suddenly, he delivered a loud smack on one of her cheeks and Pansy cried out in elation.

“Ahh fuck yess! Spank me! Spank me you bastard!” She moaned out loud. Her moan turned into a cry when he suddenly grabbed her hair and yanked her head back forcefully, making her look at his feral face.

“You’re not the one making demands here, bitch,” he grunted before slamming his lips against hers.

Pansy kissed him back eagerly, putting all her hatred for him into it. The kiss grew furiously passionate in no time, and she assumed he must be doing the same. She knew how much he hated her guts, and that made her kiss him even harder. She felt him spank her once again before he slid his hands forward, bringing them to her tits. She was rocking her ass on his lap now, kissing him furiously as Harry played with her nipples for a bit. He pinched her hard nubs and rolled them around before he held her full breasts and squeezed them. His hands grabbed her globes and played with them on repeat as she brought her arms around his neck and wrapped them around it, pushing herself firmly against his front.

He left her tits now, happy to feel them squished against his chest as he grabbed her ass and moved it over his cock, filling her repeatedly. She could only moan in pleasure, and any thoughts other than the otherworldly feeling of being fucked by this magnificent man left her mind. The only thing that remained was the feeling of how prodigiously good it felt to have his cock inside her.

The moment she pulled away from the kiss and looked at him, she saw his face scrunched in pleasure, and a wave of cold spread over her. She suddenly recalled what she had to do now. He was staring at her with a hooded gaze, and she tightened her hold around his neck, leaning close and continuously fucking herself on his cock. A flick of her finger revealed the thin, hidden blade inside her ring and she looked at him with a sultry grin.

“You were a brilliant fuck, Potter,” she whispered and brought the blade to his neck.

There was a moment of silence as she stared, breathing heavily at him. Her ass stopped right over his cock and her eyes took in the wicked smirk on his face.

“Were? I thought we were still fucking,” Harry remarked and gave a firm shove inside her. That brought her out of her shock. Pansy cried out.

“Wha-!? How!?”

“You think you’re the first person to think of that?” Harry asked as he yanked her hair back and glared at her. “You think you’re capable of doing anything to me? ME?”

He grabbed her roughly by her ass and lifted her on his lap. Holding her right on his cock, he walked over and roughly threw her on the dining table. The items clattered to the floor as Pansy lay prone on the wooden surface.

“You’re so arrogant, Parkinson. You thought you were smart, huh?” He grunted as he continued to slam inside her. “You thought you’d manage a sneak attack on me? Your thoughts were so loud I had to mute them sometimes!”

“You were reading my mind!” Pansy cried out as he furiously fucked her and she involuntarily clenched her inner walls around his length.

“I know everything you planned, you silly little bint,” he said with a chuckle. “Nifty little tool you’ve got there, and a cursed one at that. How many have you killed like this so far, hmm?”

Her emotions were a mess. She thrust back against him, fucking herself as he fucked her, and Harry sneered.

“You truly are a slut, Parkinson,” he slapped her tits that rolled around on her chest. “Don’t worry though. You can be a slut all your life. The only caveat is that you’ll be my slut.”

Pansy stared at him with hooded eyes as he placed the tip of his wand over her navel. She could barely keep up with what he did, but by the time he was done, it felt as if a massive veil was lifted off her mind.

“Ah yesss! Fuck me!” She cried out.

Harry obliged eagerly as he leaned over and grabbed her by the neck. His tongue licked along her naked skin as he furiously slammed inside her.

“Ah fuck Potter! I’m close!”

Harry pushed himself on one arm while the other held her by the neck.

“It’s My Lord to you, my dear Pansy,” he replied. Pansy’s eyes widened before she grinned and nodded.

“Yes, My Lord! Fuck me! I’m so close! Please fuck me!”

“Gladly,” Harry smirked as he trust aggressively. Barely ten seconds later, Pansy’s world exploded as wave upon wave of pure pleasure coursed through her. She moaned out loud as her orgasm wafted over her senses hand all she could do was lay there, prone, as her pussy spasmed around his throbbing length that was still pushing back and forth inside her.

Harry pulled out of her sopping wet pussy, gushing with her release as Pansy lay there, panting heavily. She felt as if she had just run a marathon. Blearily, she opened her eyes and stared at him.

“I’m sorry for what I was about to do, my lord,” she murmured, and Harry leaned forward with a smirk. He caressed her cheek before he grabbed her hair harshly, making her cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure.

“You can always make up for it, slut,” he replied. Pulling her off the table, he pushed her down on her knees so that she was face-level with his cock. “Remember what you skipped last time? Get to it.”

“At once, my lord,” she replied with a grin and took his slick length, covered in her vaginal fluids, in her mouth. She massaged his cock with her lips from the head to the base, letting her wet and delicate tongue swirl and dance over his tip and shaft between her firm sucks. His balls also received equal attention with her hands this time as she rolled them around in her fingers, stimulating him. Her sinful mouth sucked him off furiously and it did not take long for Harry to get over the edge.

“Here it comes, slut. Make sure you don’t waste even a drop,” he instructed firmly. Pansy wrapped her lips around the head of his cock and felt rope after rope of his hot, potent seed splatter the inside of her mouth. Her eyes widened as she kept gulping, filling her stomach with his cum, wondering just how much he had to give her.

Harry had to give it to her. She did not waste any bit of his cum and he stood there, watching his newest conquest sitting on her knees and licking the last vestiges of his cum off the tip. His eyes trailed down her lovely body to take in the mark right below her navel. The golden lightning bolt pulsed for a moment.

“You are now a part of a very special group of women, Pansy. You better be appreciative of that fact.”

“I am, my lord!” She replied ardently as she crawled over to him and rested her hands on his thighs. “I feel so much privileged that you chose me, even though I was such a bitch.”

Harry chuckled and lifted her to her feet, watching how she kept her eyes trained down in submissiveness.

“That past is in the past. We have to look at the future, my dear Pansy. But that doesn’t mean you get to forget what you did in the past. Remember it and work to make up for all the wrongs you’ve committed.”

Pansy nodded obediently, earning a smirk from him.

“As my woman, you don’t have to worry about the DMLE now, nor do you need to think about smuggling. You’ll also be living at your new home from now on.”

“My place is with you, my lord. I’ll do my best to prove myself worthy of your love that I feel so much,” she replied earnestly, a giddy smile on her face.

“See that you do,” Harry chuckled. “Get up now. We’ve remained in this accursed house for long enough. I wonder why I’ve still kept it, to be honest. It’s better off destroyed. Go on, get dressed quickly. I’ll be taking you to your new home now.”

“What about Parkinson Manor, my lord?” Pansy asked curiously as she bent down to retrieve her clothes. Harry gave her supple rear a firm slap, making her squeal with a blush.

“Keep it as it is. You don’t need to do anything about it right now.”

Pansy replied and began putting her clothes back on. Harry watched her do it, giving her a compliment or two and chuckling at how much she liked it. Just like Narcissa, it seemed she had never been appreciated by a lover before and even a little bit of it was enough to make her happy.

Once again, he thanked a Malfoy male for being so neglectful. While a bitchy Pansy was interesting, there was something about a demure Pansy that excited him. She was a naturally submissive woman, and he was going to exploit that submissiveness of hers. That was the least they both deserved.

-Break-

Harry and Pansy appeared in the bright corridor of #12 Grimmauld Place and the brunette looked around in surprise.

“Where are we, my lord?”

“Our temporary home,” he replied. “I’m working on the new one. We’ll be moving there soon. In the meantime, we’ll be living here.”

Pansy nodded absently when she heard the approaching footsteps. She turned to see who it was and her eyes shot open at the sight in front of her.

Clad in nothing but a pair of racy purple lingerie and a garter belt that held her black stockings with her blonde hair flowing down her back in waves came a woman that bore a striking resemblance to one Narcissa Malfoy. The only oddity was that she looked a couple of decades younger. If Pansy did not know better, she would have believed that she was a daughter of the Malfoys.

She watched as the woman’s eyes lit up at the sight of her lord who simply smiled. Her eyes then fell on her and a glint entered her eyes as she smirked.

“Well, my lord, things went well?”

“Much better than expected, Cissa,” Harry replied, and that confirmed it for her. This was indeed Narcissa Malfoy, or rather, Narcissa now. She recalled what Harry had told her about family names.

‘You are Pansy from now on. There is no need for you to associate yourself with the Parkinson name. And soon enough, you’ll have a much more prestigious family name to associate yourself with.’

Pansy smiled to herself. She could not wait until that day.

“I hope you know Pansy?” Harry asked.

“Very well, I must say,” Narcissa replied.

“How’re you so young?” Pansy blurted out suddenly before she abruptly shut her mouth. “Sorry for the outburst.”

“It’s okay,” Narcissa replied as she walked forward. “Our lord is the greatest wizard there is. But you already know that, don’t you?”

Pansy nodded.

Smiling, Narcissa described what happened to the Malfoys, what was about to happen to her, and how Harry helped her out.

“And I love him with all my heart, for both what he did for me, and how much he cares for me. And I’m sure you feel it too.”

Pansy felt the other woman place her palm on the spot beneath her navel where her mark was, and she smiled when it pulsed. She could indeed feel the love and care he had for her now.

“For him to overlook my past and help me when I needed it the most… and now this… I love him with all my heart as well,” the brunette replied. Narcissa smiled and winked at Harry who chuckled.

“Come on then,” the blonde said as she pulled Pansy behind her. “I’ll explain everything about how things are and how you should carry yourself from now on. After all, our lord deserves our utmost commitment in everything.”

Pansy nodded.

With a satisfied smirk, Harry watched the two women walk out of the room and dropped on the couch. His plan was coming along nicely.

TBC.

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Chapter Text

Harry groaned and lifted his hips higher as Pansy's plump lips tightened around the crown of his cock, her tongue swirling around the head like a popsicle. The uptight bitch was as tame as a rabbit how. He leaned forward, threading his fingers through her brown hair, and pulled it behind her ear, gazing into her dark orbs that glinted with barely hidden lust.

She looked up at him in adoration, her long eyelashes fluttering ever so slightly. She was being patient, and she was being a tease. He had gotten to know that much about her. Being in Slytherin had taught her at least as much. Prolong the pleasure as much as you could so that once the guy shot his load, he could not do anything more after that. That had been her way of protecting her innocence for as long as she had done.

It was morning, and he was in his room, sleeping bare-naked as he always did. Narcissa had been given her room and she had chosen to house their newest resident with her. Harry did not know what the two women did the night before once he was done taking them together, but his mind could easily conjure some very erotic images that made him throb inside her wanton mouth. He saw Pansy moan around his length, still looking up at him adoringly, and he chuckled.

He would have to make them do it in front of him. That was a sight he did not want to miss.

However, right now, he had his plate full of something else. Pansy's tongue dragged from the bottom of his shaft right where his ballsack was to the tip, grazing the underside of his cock. She swirled her tongue around the head once again before slowly sliding his throbbing length inside her sultry wet mouth. He was reclined on his bed, elbows plopped up over several cushions, giving him the perfect angle to watch her go about her duty.

She was an obedient one, and she did not shy away from taking initiative either. Not too different from Narcissa who he saw had just come in, not a stitch of clothing on her curvaceous form.

She had discarded the Malfoy name, having reverted to her maiden name, but she kept her given name. Narcissa Black, according to her, was her past and would be her future. Harry had no qualms about it.

He smirked at her and instructed her to come closer, and with an eager grin, she glided toward him.

"Get to work, you two," he told them once Narcissa had assumed her place beside Pansy. The blonde tapped the brunette on the back, wordlessly telling her to scoot to the side before she leaned downward and dragged her tongue over his balls.

"Good girl," he praised, his other hand coming up to comb through Narcissa's lustrous blonde hair.

Pansy could not see herself being outdone, and she took his shaft in her mouth, pressing the tip against the back of her throat. She gagged over his length, spittle flying out of her mouth, but that did nothing to curb either her enthusiasm or her competitive spirit. Instead, she plunged her mouth deeper, burying him to the hilt inside her mouth.

Harry grinned, and pressed his hand firmly on the back of her head, pushing her even further down his length, intent on making her gag and teary-eyed. He would turn her face red before painting it a creamy white.

"I'm close, you two," he muttered. "Cissa, suck my balls, Pansy, you better not waste even a drop or I'll be very… disappointed."

Pansy looked up at him through her eyelashes, batting her eyes thrillingly. Even a day ago, such a sight would've been foreign on her face, but just like Narcissa, she was eager to please, eager to receive commands and follow thoroughly. This bond was truly a brilliant piece of magic he had formed, and he could not wait to add more girls to his nicely growing collection.

Her lips were wrapped around the base of his cock, cheeks hollowed out as her tongue swirled around his length. She never dragged her lips backward, content in keeping them wrapped around him. Her tongue did all the work. He reveled in the feeling of being ensconced in her tight, warm mouth, wet from her spit and saliva as Narcissa rolled his balls around in her mouth.

With a groan of pleasure, Harry's hips shot upward and he erupted inside the brunette's wanton mouth. His hands were fisting their hair as he pushed their heads down on him, firing streams of his cum inside Pansy's mouth. She kept swallowing, gulp after gulp, her eyes widening at the amount of cum he was spurting inside her.

"Don't you dare waste even a drop, Pansy," he growled, and like the little submissive she was, she obliged without complaint. His eyes closed in elation, and he could feel his magic singing as he relieved himself. Unbidden, Narcissa's words about magical powerhouses and sex came to the forefront of his mind.

"Nnnghhh—" Pansy made a lewd sound, and Harry's eyes opened. He watched her mouth hollowing out, and he realized she was storing his seed inside her mouth to swallow at her leisure. Finally, he shot one last load and sighed.

Pansy kept his seed in her mouth and licked the tip clean of the last vestiges of his cum, and only when she was sure that nothing was left, she pulled her mouth off his cock and looked up at him. Harry saw her sit back on the bed and open her mouth, and he smirked at the sight of his cum on her tongue.

"Wait!" Narcissa called out suddenly, pulling away from his balls, and both turned toward her. "Don't be a greedy bint, Parkinson."

Before Pansy could react, Narcissa leaped forward and slammed her lips against the younger woman, making her eyes widen in surprise. She was even more surprised when the blonde pushed her tongue inside her mouth with the ferocity of an angry cat and stole all the seed she had kept in her mouth.

Harry stared at the sight before them and could do nothing but chuckle. It was quite a sight indeed.

-Break-

As was usual, Harry was in the bath with Narcissa washing his back. However, the only difference was that there was another beauty joining them. He sat in the bath, relaxed, as Pansy did his front.

"You look tense, my lord," the brunette said from in front of him. Narcissa looked over at the other woman before she looked at her lord.

"Have we done anything to displease you, my lord?" Narcissa asked gently, her hands slowly working on his shoulder blades, and Harry sighed in contentment.

"I'm just wondering about how to proceed, my dears," he replied. "You two are my treasures, but not enough. Not even close."

"Makes sense," Narcissa nodded. "You are the most powerful wizard in the world, and you need more than just us to both keep you satisfied and to count upon."

Pansy stared down in contemplation for a long moment before she looked up.

"My lord, if I may make a suggestion?"

"Go ahead, Pansy," Harry nodded encouragingly, chuckling to himself when she preened. Pureblood women and their desire for approval, praise, and attention. It was all too easy.

"There were many witches in and around our year at Hogwarts, and I feel most of them are beautiful and worthy enough to be called your followers."

"Cissa said something similar," he replied, looking at the blonde beauty who beamed at him for remembering her suggestion.

"And I still feel you should go for them, my lord!" She said enthusiastically. "I'm sure you have good relations with most of them already and it won't be too hard for you to make them realize the best place for them is under you."

"And those you don't know you very well…" Pansy said with a smirk. "Well… I'm sure it would be easy for you to make them realize as well. Just as you did with me."

Harry looked down at her as she pressed her naked front against his, their soapy bodies sliding against each other.

Leaning forward, Harry gave her a rough kiss, making her moan.

"You know what," he replied, his voice gravelly as he turned around and pulled both women against him. Their backs rested on his front and he pushed his fingers through their velvety folds, making them moan. "I think you two have a very good point."

-Break-

Harry walked out of the private fireplace he had in his office in the ministry, brushing off the soot absentmindedly as he walked over to his desk. As usual, a stack of parchment was arranged neatly on the desk. Harry sighed.

This was the only part of this job that he hated – having to deal with all the paperwork.

Zabini's prosecution had gone swimmingly. The asshole had no defense and he had taken a sadistic pleasure in watching him being carted off to Azkaban for his much-deserved crimes. A part of him wanted to expose his slut of a cumdump as well, but he decided against it.

He hated Ginny Weasley. There were no two ways about it. However, just because he had issues with a few from the family did not mean he held any enmity toward the Weasley clan.

The family had not come out unscathed from the war either.

The loss of two of their sons was insurmountable. Bill was someone he had always held in very high regard. The eldest son of the Weasleys had taken down Fenrir Greyback when the vicious werewolf had attacked Lavender Brown during the Battle of Hogwarts, thereby saving the young woman's life and even preventing her from getting afflicted by the curse.

On the other hand, he held entirely different opinions about Percy – the man who had turned his back on his family and become the ministry's bootlicker. He did not apologize to his family until it was almost too late. The war had at least brought him back to his family. However, it was a shame that he died before he could properly spend any time with them.

He knew Molly and Arthur would be heartbroken if they got to know just what their dear daughter had been up to, and he did not want them to go through that. They had already lost enough to the war.

However, there was another reason why he had kept Ginny out, and he smirked as he stared at the golden lightning bolt glowing at the back of his wrist.

The seventh child of the family, and the only female. There was no way he was letting the bitch go so easily. She had no idea what he had done when he had taken her a few days ago in his office, and he would make sure she never knew either. Ignorance was truly bliss, and by the looks of things, she was pretty happy being ignorant. He was happy to let her think he was going to use her as his personal whore – which he fully intended to do – but his reasons were nothing shallow like that.

Sexual magic was something he had taken a particular interest in after everything had been said and done, and he knew the significance of the magical numbers Ginny represented. She would remain under his thumb, and the orgasms he would bring her would be the payment for all her services.

It wasn't as if he cared what happened to her as long as he got what he wanted from her.

Putting those thoughts out of his mind, he began working on the mountain of paperwork that required his signature. Authorization for auror patrols, assignment of squadrons, promotion applications, and confirmation of trial dates for various cases. It was all trivial stuff and something he had gotten bored with. Yet, the position he held kept him abreast of everything happening around Magical Britain without the additional paperwork that the post of Minister came with.

Once he was done with the official paperwork, he flicked his wand and watched as they floated out of his office. That left only one little chore for him to take care of, and with a sigh, Harry flicked his wand, pulling out the stack of letters he had received in the past week.

There were both official and personal letters in the drawer, and Harry looked them over. Most were trivial – invitations for various events or addressing some group across Britain. Almost all of those were usually discarded, with a formal letter of apology that he would not be able to make it. A few, however, he did attend, particularly the ones he received from Hogwarts.

McGonagall was asking him to visit for a session in front of the students, and Harry put that letter aside. He would reply to her when he was done with the others.

Another letter he received was an official communication from the International Confederation of Wizards, informing him that the next meeting would be held in Paris on the 21st of the next month.

It was the final letter that gave him pause. There was nothing but his name written on the envelope, but what made him stare at it was the handwriting. He would recognize it anywhere.

He had not had a conversation with Ron and Hermione since the night of the battle, even though the pair tried a lot to get in contact with him. He never entertained the thought though, not after what they did.

Try as he might, he could not help but recall how it all went south during their hunt for Horcruxes.

It had been a few months since he had begun torturing himself on a nightly basis. Sleep eluded him, and every night on repeat, he would pull up the Marauders' Map and stare at the dots rutting away in different parts of the castle. The mood had started to worsen in their tent. Ron had been becoming more and more restless as days passed by, and Hermione was also at her wit's end over their lack of progress.

All three of them spent their days in the grim atmosphere that had taken over the Forest of Dean. They used to take turns wearing the locket, taking care not to lose it. It did not help that the Horcrux could also sense their despair and it exacerbated the emotions they had been feeling.

Every night, Harry lay awake, watching Ginny fornicating with Zabini, and every so often, he could hear the muffled moans and whimpers from the other side of the tent.

It had begun a few days ago. Ron and Hermione had finally given in to what had been obvious to him for a while. However, even though a part of him was happy for his friends, he could not help feeling a tad resentful that they had found each other in these trying times while the one he thought he loved had no qualms about fucking who was nothing more than an enemy.

He knew it was not non-consensual. The way those footsteps used to arrange together was enough to make him conclude that Ginny was very eager to do it.

Things were not any different that evening either. They had just moved places, and he had seen the way Ron and Hermione had been eyeing each other all day long. Being the third wheel that he was, he had walked out of the tent, telling them he would look for sustenance.

Ron, having grown up with three square meals a day courtesy of his mother, had been particularly irritable for so long. It came as no surprise to Harry to see him look so ecstatic at the prospect of having something good to eat, was eager for him to leave. Harry expected Hermione to say that she would accompany him, so he was quite surprised when she simply agreed for him to go alone.

It was not hard to deduce just why. With him present all day and night, they had to keep it all under wraps. He was sure they didn't even know he was well aware of what they had been doing every night. After all, no one had either talked about it or given any indication that something was different, even Ron, which was a surprise for him considering how inconspicuous the boy truly was.

Harry did not ponder much upon any of it though. They were free to find the relief they all needed in each other. He just wished he could have some way of doing it too. He was suffocating daily, voluntarily feeding himself the bitter poison of betrayal every night, without any avenue to let any of his frustrations out. It felt unfair, but there was nothing he could do.

Wrapping his Invisibility Cloak around himself, he left the tent toward where Hermione had told him the nearest town was, for food, and some fresh air.

However, he had to return empty-handed when he felt the chill of Dementors the moment he reached the town. He had tried to cast the Patronus, but to his shock, he found he could not.

Ron and Hermione were not happy when he returned. In the case of the former, it was because of the lack of food, and the latter at his failure to conjure the charm he had taught to scores of students in their fifth year.

The mood started to plummet even more since that day, and it was only a week later when they managed to procure a decent meal from a small village that was thankfully free from any hostiles.

They started to ponder upon Horcruxes and their locations, and Harry had to keep his temper under check whenever Hermione stopped him from saying Voldemort's name, even though she was in the right, or Ron showed his disinterest in the topic. His constant yawns and groans slowly started grating on his nerves.

The dismissive attitude of Hermione whenever he theorized about a particular object that could be a Horcrux and where it might be located, and the arguments that ensued therefrom only exacerbated their irritation. She seemed to believe she was always in the right and would dismiss his theories based on logic only she could think of, conveniently forgetting that he knew how Voldemort's mind worked.

It seemed the events of their past years, particularly the one with Malfoy in their sixth year had taught her no lesson.

A few more weeks passed, and there had been no progress. His Patronus never worked, and they had to make do with scraps. They had discovered no way to destroy a Horcrux without resorting to Fiendfyre or the killing curse, and they had no idea what or where the other Horcruxes might be. Well, Harry did, but Hermione would always dismiss his points by thinking of something to refute it. It was frustrating.

Harry began to suspect that Ron and Hermione had started to talk behind his back. He could see them huddled close together, whispering to each other, and they would always stop when they either heard or spotted him coming closer. Ron had never hidden his bad mood, and he suspected slowly Hermione had also started feeling the same.

He tried his best to keep those thoughts out of his mind. His nightly tortures over the map were enough. He did not need to add more to his torment.

A few more weeks passed. The irritation levels rose, and so did the morose mood that permeated the trio. Ron and Hermione had started keeping to themselves, leaving him alone on the other side of the tent with nothing but a Horcrux for company. He refused to let it out of sight, no matter how much Hermione told him that they should take turns wearing it. He denied her every time, knowing how heinous its effects could be on them if they wore it.

Everything came to rear its head one evening, changing their lives forever.

It was rainy, and they were inside the tent, staring at the thundering sky. They had just discovered that the sword of Gryffindor could destroy the Horcrux since it was goblin-forged and the blade was imbued with Basilisk venom. The portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black told them how the redhead girl had almost been caught trying to steal it.

Finally, they had a lead, but only moments later, Ron started to act up, and Harry's already irritable mood took the front seat.

"Well, you've obviously got a problem. Spit it out, will you?"

Glaring, Ron swung his leg off the bed and stood up.

"Okay then, don't expect me to jump around in joy that we've got another bloody thing to find. Just add it to the long list of things you have no fucking clue about!"

Enraged, Harry shot to his feet as well.

"No fucking clue? The hell are you talking about, Ron?"

"It's not as if we're having a nice and dandy time here. Eating scraps, freezing our asses off in this bloody rain… I thought after all this time, we'd have at least something to show for it!"

"You knew what you signed up for," Harry replied.

"Yeah, I did! At least I thought so!"

"You thought so, huh?" Harry let out a mirthless chuckle. "What part confused you then, huh? Did you think we'd be living in five-star hotels, enjoying a nice, warm bath every night and feasting on lavish buffets every night? That we'd find and destroy a Horcrux every other day, all the while lounging in a private pool? That you'd be back to Mummy for Christmas?"

Anger was his friend at the moment, and like a bitch, it was Ron's as well.

"We thought you'd have a bloody clue what you were doing!" The redhead exploded, spittle flying around in a way that oddly reminded Harry of whenever Vernon used to get enraged. "We thought Dumbledore told you something! Anything! We didn't expect you to be so bloody clueless and run off on this blind chase without any care!"

Harry did not respond. He simply stared at heaving Ron for a few seconds before he looked over at Hermione.

"We?" He simply asked. Hermione looked away. That was enough of an answer for Harry, who scoffed. "I see how it is then. I'm sorry for letting you two down. I've been straight with you from the start. There is nothing I hid from you. I told you everything Dumbledore told me. And if you haven't noticed yet, we've found a Horcrux!"

"Fat load of shit is what it's worth!" Ron retorted with a snarl. "How close are you to destroying even one, let alone finding more? None! That's how!"

There was a moment of terse silence and all the while, Harry kept staring at Hermione, who pointedly avoided his eyes. Sneering, he said, "I see. So that's what those whisperings were all about. That's what you two have been talking about behind my back."

For the first time, Hermione looked at him and the guilty look in her eyes was unmissable. However, what he could also see in her expression was her usual sense of self-righteousness – something he had slowly come to hate ever since this entire affair began.

The rain had intensified as if emboldened by the vehemence of their argument, and it was now pounding the tent.

Sneering, Harry looked at them, "Why are you two still here then? Go home!"

Ron was not one to back down.

"Maybe I will!" He shouted, taking a furious step toward Harry who held his ground. "You heard what that bloody portrait said, didn't you? They almost caught my sister trying to steal the sword! They would've sent her to the Forbidden Forest if she'd been caught! Or even the Cruciatus! But you don't give a fuck about her, do you? What is a little bit of Cruciatus for the great Harry Potter — the slayer of Basilisks and Dementors!"

It was as if someone had thrown a barrel of cold water over Harry. He stood there, still as a statue at the mention of Ginny.

Ron continued without missing a beat, "And that's not to mention what they'd have done to my family if they found her! But you couldn't give a toss about them, can you? After all, your parents are long dead!"

For the first time, Hermione glared at Ron, believing he had gone too far with his last remarks. However, her eyes widened when she heard what Harry said.

"Fuck your sister."

Shocked, both Ron and Hermione stared at Harry who looked up with a feral look in his eyes. Months of self-inflicted torment had finally run its course, and it wanted out. Right now.

"What did you just say?" Ron asked in disbelief.

"Fuck your whore of a sister!" Harry hissed, glaring. "She can rot in hell and I won't give a flying fuck about it."

A loud smack rang around the tent over the vehement roar of rain as Hermione's palm collided with Harry's cheek.

"How dare you say something like that!" She cried out, moving for another slap when she was suddenly banished to the other end of the tent. Ron, eyes wide in shock at what Harry had said and done, could only stare as Hermione collided with one of the beds and fell over, dazed.

"You asshole!" He cried out, but before he could even move, he found Harry's wand pointed right between his eyes.

The two men glared at each other with utter revulsion and Harry hissed, "Fuck off to your mother's tender care, both of you. And don't you dare come near me again, or you won't like the consequences."

Gulping, Ron stared at the tip of Harry's wand for a few seconds before he sneered. Turning around, he rushed over to Hermione and helped her up.

"You okay?" Ron asked worriedly. Hermione nodded and winced.

"Just a bruise, I think," she replied.

Harry watched them disdainfully as they stood back up before glaring at him.

"You've changed, Harry. Both of us have seen it. And it's not for the better. But after what you just did… Dumbledore would be disappointed in you."

"I told you two to fuck off," Harry replied unfazed, his wand trained on them. Hermione gave him her usual disappointed stare which Harry promptly ignored and watched as they gathered whatever meagre belongings they had and walked out of the tent. The rain had dissipated some time ago.

A few seconds later, there was the telltale sound of apparition outside the tent, and only then did Harry lower his wand. He walked over to his part of the tent and stared hatefully at the Horcrux perched on the table.

Mustering his hatred had never been easier, and there was a loud wail of sheer evilness as his killing curse struck the locket right in the middle.

Harry shook his head and banished those thoughts from what felt like a lifetime ago. That had been the last time he had had a conversation with the pair. The next time they met, it was already in the heat of the battle. Neither party approached the other in the aftermath of it, and Harry found it oddly amusing that the reason that encounter had escalated so much — one Ginny Weasley — had never been in any danger in the first place. Instead, the redhead who Phineas Nigellus Black had told them about, the one who had tried to steal the sword of Gryffindor, was Susan Bones.

Harry came to know about it when a small group of those who had fought in the Battle mehad met in The Three Broomsticks after the war ended and were exchanging stories.

Neville, Luna, and Susan had tried to steal the sword, intent on giving it to Harry after they had heard from Ginny how Dumbledore had left it to him in his will and knowing that it must be for an important purpose.

Knowing what he knew about Ginny now, it was easy to believe that she would've never put herself in the position to get caught by the Death Eaters who ran around Hogwarts.

Recalling that he had a letter to read, he tore the envelope and pulled the parchment out of it. He discarded the envelope and opened the letter.

A minute later, he put the letter down on his desk and started drumming his fingers over it.

Hermione's letter was simple. She was requesting him for a meeting to discuss something important.

Just because Harry had cut ties off with Ron and Hermione did not mean he had stopped keeping tabs on them. After all, one never knew when something might come in handy. He had a little hunch about what this important thing that she wanted to discuss with him could be.

He wondered whether he should agree to meet her. It was not as if he owed her or Ron anything, and he could simply ignore the letter. He knew he won't feel anything about it either.

However, there was no harm in a little meeting either. He could just hear her out and decide what to do based on what happened.

He pondered upon the matter for a few more minutes and with a sigh, he touched the rune on his desk.

An old lady approaching her seventies walked in with a gentle smile on her face.

"You asked for me, Director?"

"How many times have I asked you to call me by my name, Martha?"

Martha Abbott chuckled and gave him a grandmotherly smile.

"I'll call you that once I retire. As long as I'm working, you are my boss, and as such, Director to me."

Sighing, Harry nodded before he gave the kind woman a loving smile. Madam Abbott had been his secretary for the entire time he had been the Director of the DMLE, having assumed the role when Amelia Bones became the Director. She had endured the dark years in the ministry under Voldemort's rule and was one hardened woman. The Bones and Abbott families have been close for decades, and it was Amelia Bones who had hired her. Now approaching the age of retirement, the woman was still as steadfast and capable as she had been in her youth.

Harry respected her a lot, and he could see how much she had come to adore him as well. He had broached the subject of retirement a few times, but whenever he did, she had the same reply.

'I would retire once I turn seventy. Not a day earlier.'

Her seventieth birthday was next week, and smiling, Harry replied, "Well, only one week to go then."

Martha smiled before asking how she could help him. Harry slid forward the official letters.

"Please add these to my calendar. Also, could you clear tomorrow evening from my schedule? There is a personal business I need to attend."

Martha nodded and took the letters with her.

Leaning back on his chair, Harry looked up at the enchanted ceiling that showed the view outside. He'd hear whatever Hermione had to say. However, she had another thing coming if she expected him to sort things out for her just like that out of the goodness of his heart.

He remembered how she had told him that he had changed, and not for the better. Well, he had no qualms in showing her just how much.

His help had a price, and he wondered whether she would be ready to pay it.

TBC.

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Chapter Text

As was usual these days, the first thing Harry Potter felt when he woke up the next morning was the searing sensation of a pair of plump lips around the head of his cock. His hands involuntarily slid under the raised duvet, fingers threading through her silky locks as he gently caressed her scalp. Her happy moan made him smile.

Meanwhile, another pair of lips kissed over his chest and he felt her sinful tongue rolling around his nipple. Wordlessly he reached over and sank his fingers in her supple rear, pulling her closer.

"What a way to wake up," he chuckled and looked into the sultry eyes of Cissa who grinned and locked her lips with his.

Two hours and an extensive morning workout session later the threesome descended the stairs and his girls got to work. Harry sat at the head of the table, a mug of coffee in one hand as he raked his eyes over the Quidditch section of the Prophet.

He had invested heavily in Vratsa Vultures over the past few years and he was glad to see that the team was flying in the Euro League. They had an unbeaten streak of forty-nine games and last night's win made it fifty.

I should give Krum a visit. What a brilliant job he's done with the team, he thought.

Viktor had retired when the war escalated in Britain. Harry remembered him attending Fleur and Bill's wedding when the Death Eaters attacked, and the man had unfortunately been injured. Although the healers had fixed him imminently, his seeking skills had been severely affected.

When Harry bought the majority stake in the Vultures, Viktor was the first man he contacted. The man might not be able to play anymore but his mind was still impeccable. When he heard his plans for the club, he eagerly accepted the post of Sporting Director, and the work he had done in the last two years in particular was exceptional. The Vultures used to be a mid-table team at the most, rarely making it to the European level, but after the infusion of those South American talents, the team's level had skyrocketed. Now, they were the team to beat.

"Another win?" Cissa asked as she came over, levitating their breakfast in front of her. Harry smiled and nodded, watching as she deposited the plates on the table and pulled her in his lap. The woman giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I've got something to do this evening. What've you two planned for the day?"

"Nothing much," she tapped his nose with her index finger, smiling.

Harry nodded and flicked his wand. A bag of galleons materialized in front of him.

"Take Pansy with you and get some shopping done. Your robes are all well and good but I'm sure you'd love to start wearing something more appealing, particularly when you are indoors," he instructed, smirking.

"As you say, my lord," she purred. Harry chuckled as she tried to feed him.

"I can eat on my own, Cissa," he replied, making her pout. He sighed and relented, to her elation as she fed him.

"Hey, that's not fair," Pansy complained as she came over and perched herself on the armrest of his chair, leaning against him as she joined the blonde in feeding him.

Harry let them, enjoying the feeling of their curvaceous forms pressed firmly against him.

Truly, this was life.

-Break-

Harry left #12 Grimmauld Place shortly. Although he did not have much to do until the evening when Hermione had asked to meet him, it did not mean he could just skip his duties. He had the image of a diligent and responsible Head of Department to maintain.

The day was a monotonous one and it was five in the evening when he walked out of his office in the ministry. He greeted Madam Abbott who smiled at him as usual.

"The documents I asked for, Martha?"

Madam Abbott pulled out a small stack of parchments and handed it over to him. Harry waved his wand over it to see if it was sealed properly as it had been when he had first deposited it in the evidence locker, and he saw it glow a faint green. Having ensured that nothing was out of order, he smiled at the woman and made his way to the apparition point in the ministry foyer.

A few minutes later, a soft crack echoed in an alley right beside a small park just north of Heathgate and Harry immediately spotted her. Keeping a stoic look on his face, he approached someone who used to be one of his closest confidants.

Even from a distance, her nervousness was palpable. Her hands were folded together right in front of her as she stood against the lamppost on the sidewalk.

"Harry," she greeted with a small smile and took a step forward, her arms outstretched. Harry quickly raised his hand to stop her. Frowning, she slowly brought her arms down.

"Mrs. Weasley," he greeted with a nod. "You asked to meet me. Well, I'm here. I'd prefer it if you didn't waste my time and just got on with whatever it is you want to discuss."

Hermione's frown deepened and Harry saw her bite her lip in the same way she always did whenever she was nervous. Perhaps it would've made him feel for her someday, but those days were long into the past.

"Well?" He prompted further.

"Can we go somewhere private?" She asked with a pleading look. Harry looked at her searchingly.

"You could've just asked me to meet you at your house if you wanted to keep this private," he replied.

Hermione's grimace became more prominent and she mumbled something, her gaze affixed to the ground.

"What was that?"

"I said Ron doesn't know about this," she said.

That took him slightly by surprise.

"Well, I didn't expect you to go behind Ron's back and ask for a meeting. I won't lie and say I'm not curious," he replied, having the perfect idea about what she wanted to discuss. Still, he decided to play her little game. Toying with one's prey was a lot of fun, after all. "I'm not going to take you to my residence, but I do have a place that is private enough for this little chat. I hope you remember the house in Privet Drive?"

Hermione's eyes widened slightly and she nodded.

"Good," Harry said curtly. "Meet me there."

Without bothering to wait, he apparated away with a soft crack. Hermione stared at the spot he had just vacated before she pictured the destination in her mind and followed.

The first thing Hermione noticed when she arrived on the lawn of #4 Privet Drive was the lack of life in the neighborhood. It seemed this was another of those areas that had been abandoned during the war and people never came back. She looked at the house of Harry's relatives and knocked on the door. The door swung open a few seconds later and Harry stepped to the side, letting her enter. She walked in, looking around at the unchanged house, and heard him shut the door.

"Come in," he instructed, leading the way to the living room. She followed silently behind him, grimacing slightly at the sight of that cupboard under the stairs.

"Have a seat, Mrs. Weasley," Harry gestured. Hermione grimaced at the formal way he was addressing her. She nodded and sat down, looking around.

He noticed her gaze as he made himself comfortable.

"Yeah, not much's changed. Can't be bothered. The neighborhood is dead. Even I'm looking to get rid of this hovel. Too many bad memories," he muttered. Hermione winced slightly which Harry ignored. "This used to be mine the entire time, can you believe it? Those lowlives lived on my property and treated me like the lowest of vermin."

Hermione remained silent.

"Go on then," Harry leaned back and regarded her keenly. "What is it? Given how desperate you sounded in that letter, it must be something big for you to approach someone like me to help you."

Hermione winced at his tone, her eyes still downcast.

"I don't have the entire day, Mrs. Weasley," Harry sighed. "Could you get on with it please?"

There was a conflicted look on Hermione's face as she pondered where to start. Harry stared at her expectantly for a minute before he decided enough was enough. He shot to his feet, startling her.

"If you're gonna sit there silently then you're welcome to do it. My time is more important than you seem to think," he said curtly and made to walk away.

He felt a sudden tug on his arm and whirled around. Hermione quickly released him, as if burned.

"We got a letter yesterday morning," she said softly. "It is from some company called BetVault. They are—"

"A Quidditch betting company, I know," he replied, taking his seat again.

Hermione nodded.

"The letter was addressed to Ron," she whispered. "He… he's been betting on the Cannons and…"

Harry leaned back comfortably and stared her down as she trailed off, averting her eyes.

"Let me guess," he replied. "Your husband's been using the company's credit service to bet for a while, obviously attracted by those huge odds the Cannons always have against them and now he's in massive debt thanks to his foolishness."

Hermione could do nothing but nod shakily.

"How much red is he in?"

Hermione mumbled something again.

"Louder, woman," Harry said firmly. "I cannot hear you like this."

"More than a hundred thousand galleons," she whispered.

Harry stayed silent.

"I've been telling him for so long to not get involved in this business, but he never listens!" She cried out. "He won a few hundred once and since then, he's been thinking he'll get lucky. Last game, he was bragging how his team would pull off the biggest win in their history. See where it's got us now!"

"That is the least of your worries, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said curtly. The brunette looked at him with tearful eyes. Harry's response was to pull out a small stack of parchments and drop it on the table. He tapped his wand against it, unsealing them, and gestured for her to read through.

Shaking hands lifted the stack and she started reading. The more she read, the more her eyes widened until she was almost hyperventilating. Harry cast a few calming charms on her to keep her from losing control.

"W-what… you k-know…" she said faintly.

"Your husband is in more shit than you thought, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said firmly. "Not just betting, he tried to take part in match fixing. That was why he was so smug last time. Unfortunately, the racket was busted before anything could happen. He must've not heard anything about it if he didn't take off the bets."

Hermione stared at him in abject shock.

"Even if we leave the crippling debt aside, your husband is seeing a fair bit of time in Azkaban. Given how you've shared the signing rights with him as well, it will be your combined possessions that would take a full hit. Vaults, your apartment, your parents' house here in London. You are facing full bankruptcy, both of you."

The more Harry listed out what the future held in store for them, the fainter Hermione felt.

"And considering how you two owe this money to me, I am more than inclined to take you to the cleaners," Harry grunted.

Hermione felt as if someone had pulled the rug from under her feet. She looked at Harry with an ashen face, unable to speak.

Leaning back comfortably, Harry smirked.

"I own BetVault, Mrs. Weasley. It's quite a brilliant way to keep tabs on fixers and crooks. I've known about all of this for over a week now. You better believe your husband knows what he owes, and he's failed to honor his repayment, multiple times. That is why you got that letter reminding you what you owe the company," Harry replied.

"You own BetVault?" She asked in a whisper, eyes wide. "You knew it all!?"

Harry simply nodded.

"I could've stopped his credit anytime, but you can say I was curious to see how far he'd go," he shrugged, to Hermione's further shock. "Must say though, even I didn't think he'd be so foolish as to keep going at it. The bloke should've understood a long time ago that he was not going to win anything else, but then using his brain was never his strong suit, was it?"

"You…" Hermione whispered, rage coloring her voice as she leveled an accusing finger at him. "You pushed him down this path!"

"Put your finger away from my face, woman!" Harry hissed. Hermione recoiled under that vehement glare and immediately pulled her arm back. "You're still the same, aren't you? Blaming me for your husband's addiction? If you want to blame someone, blame him and blame yourself."

Hermione's face contorted into one of disbelief combined with rage as she stared at him, shellshocked.

"Then why the hell were you acting like you knew nothing?" She snarled. "Do you take some sick pleasure in being an asshole!?"

"For a matter of fact, yes I do," he replied nonchalantly before his eyes hardened. "What did you think exactly? That I'll forget what you two did and help you out like the selfless fool I was? That so-called people-saving thing doesn't exist anymore, Weasley. It hasn't existed ever since I was betrayed by my two closest allies when I needed them the most."

Hermione stared at him in disdain.

"So that's what all this is about, huh? It's all revenge for what we did? You conveniently forgot everything you did as well. Don't you remember, Harry? You called Ron's sister – the woman you loved – a whore."

"I still stand by that statement, although with one little modification. She's not just a whore. She's a vigorous whore."

To her credit, Hermione did try. She brandished her wand, no doubt to curse him something afoul, but Harry was faster. Barely a second passed and she found herself disarmed and bound on the couch.

"Let's see what I can charge both you and your husband with," Harry said as he twirled his wand about, staring at a bound Hermione. "You were the joint owner of his account with us, you remember that, right?"

Hermione squirmed in her place at that, cursing herself for giving in to Ron's pleading and agreeing to be the mandatory joint holder of the betting account.

"You owe me over a hundred thousand."

He raised one finger.

"Your husband is facing time in Azkaban for match fixing."

Another finger went up.

"And just now, you tried to attack me, the head of the DMLE."

Three fingers were held aloft in front of her and Hermione stared scornfully at him. She remained bound on the couch, her hands tied behind her and her wand having fallen on the floor. Harry carelessly levitated and pocketed it.

"After everything we've been through, I am very much inching toward bringing the full might of the DMLE and my name on the two of you," Harry hissed, his emerald orbs gleaming maliciously as he leaned forward. For the first time, pure fear coursed through Hermione as she sat there, bound and paralyzed. "Or we could come to an understanding. Your choice."

Harry leaned backward in his seat once again.

"I am willing to forego this debt you and your husband owe me. I'll even make sure his name doesn't come up in the match fixing fiasco," Harry stated calmly. "And I'll also overlook this little episode of foolishness from you. If only you agree to my terms."

Hermione was a smart woman. She knew there was a catch and there was no way she would ever trust Harry now, not after the lengths he had gone to bring her and Ron down. She knew she couldn't do anything against him. He was simply too powerful, both magically and politically, not to mention how socially well-regarded he was.

However, she also knew there was no way she and Ron could survive if Harry truly decided to go ahead with his threat. They did not have the money and they did not have any evidence to support their case. Ron was indeed involved in match-fixing. The proof was irrefutable and it made her hate him for the first time. She had trusted him but he had betrayed her in such an inconsiderate manner.

"What is your price?" She asked finally, and the feral grin was so foreign on Harry's face that she felt she was making a deal with the devil himself.

"It's very simple," Harry said, smiling benignly. "You will swear a binding magical vow to obey my instructions without any question or protest, and you will put your best efforts into it. No hesitation at all."

"What!?"

"Let me finish," he raised a hand to stop her from going on another word-vomiting round. "I'll not ask you to do commit any crime or anything that might put you on any law enforcement agency's radar."

Hermione looked at him with a furrowed brow, wondering just what he wanted her to do.

"For how long?" She asked.

"Looks like there's truly a brain between those eyes if you're seriously considering it," Harry commented, agitating her deliberately. "And for how long? Let's see. You owe me a little over a hundred thousand. Let's make it a hundred thousand for simplification. Let's also add fifty thousand per criminal charge. That makes it two hundred thousand galleons. The valuation of your vaults and all your properties totals at fifty thousand galleons, but I doubt you'd be willing to give any of it up. You need a place to live, after all. Your family's annual income after all expenses is what? Ten thousand perhaps? I'll let you do the math."

"Twenty years!?" Hermione cried out. "You want me to be your servant for twenty freaking years, Harry!?"

"We can always let the vow decide, if you prefer," Harry said with a shrug.

"What do you mean?" She asked curiously.

"Well, we can put this condition in the vow that you'll be released from it once it is deemed enough that you have repaid me, in whatever manner possible. You get a jackpot worth two hundred thousand? You can pay me off and the vow shall dissolve. Otherwise, I'm afraid it's work for you as long as your debt is repaid in the eyes of the vow. Sounds fair enough to me."

"Harry…" Hermione said tearfully. "Please… you don't have to do this. Did our friendship mean nothing to you?"

There was a long moment of silence as Harry stared at her.

"No," Harry said curtly. "I'm not in the mood for all this foolish drama, Mrs. Weasley, least of all from someone like you. Not after what you've done to me. You can take this offer or you can decline, in which case I'll be hauling you off to a holding cell right now while a contingent of aurors will shortly arrive at your apartment to drag your husband's ass to the ministry. Your choice."

Hermione stared, wide-eyed, at the medallion Harry put on the table in front of her. His wand was poised right over it, ready to send a message to an auror squadron at a moment's notice.

"I already told you I don't have time to waste, Mrs. Weasley. I'd like you to decide right now."

Conflicting thoughts raced through Hermione's mind as she pondered upon all the courses of action she had in front of her. There was no way she could decline Harry's offer. She had no money to repay the debt and he had all the leverage. Even if somehow they managed to gather a hundred thousand galleons, there was no way they could escape persecution from the DMLE.

Hermione seethed as she came to her decision. If being his servant and letting him degrade her to satiate his thirst for revenge let her keep their life then it was truly a no-brainer. She knew she was strong, and she could swallow the bitter pill of humiliation.

Harry smirked to himself when she gave a curt nod and he put both his wand and the medallion away.

"I'm glad you used your brain. Now, which timeframe do you prefer? Twenty years or the vow's judgment?"

"The vow," she glared at him. "I'll let magic decide my future."

"Suit yourself," Harry smirked.

-Break-

"Now that the vow is taken care of, I want you to call me Master from now on until this arrangement continues," Harry instructed firmly. Hermione grimaced but nodded in understanding.

"Good. As I told you already, I don't have time to waste, so I'd like you to get started right away."

"What do you want me to do?" Hermione asked, earning a raised eyebrow from him.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

The brunette grit her teeth. Keeping her anger at bay, she seethed, "What do you want me to do, Master?"

Harry ignored her tone and smirked.

"I'd like you to get down on your knees and crawl toward me. Make sure to convey proper obedience when you do so," he instructed.

Hermione's eyes widened but the vow kicked in. Immediately, she dropped to her knees and started to slowly crawl toward him. Her arms were still tied behind her back and so were her legs, making movement particularly troublesome. She persisted though and crossed around the table in the middle, sitting in front of him on her knees with her eyes downcast in submission. It was humiliating, but she would endure it. She had no other choice.

"Good job," he praised, and to her immense indignation, he raised his leg and caressed her cheek with his shoe-clad feet. Hermione was so shocked that she couldn't do anything more than stare at him with wide eyes. "Let's see if you're as good at some other job as well."

A foreboding feeling washed over Hermione as she stared at his face.

"What do you mean?... Master?" She asked, belatedly adding the salutation when his eyebrow quirked a bit.

"Make sure you don't make a habit of forgetting how you should address me," he chided. She nodded in submission. "Better. Go on now, unzip my trousers."

Hermione's eyes shot open wide in alarm as she realized just what he had forced her to sign up for. Her mouth opened to protest before the words were swiftly cut off as the vow kicked in. A sense of immense rage wafted over her as she understood just how Harry wanted to exact his revenge upon her and Ron.

Swallowing her protests, she glared, "And how am I supposed to do it, Master? My hands are tied."

"But your teeth aren't. They work, don't they? Put them to use then."

Harry could see the anger in her eyes and it further emboldened him. He had wanted his revenge for so long but he had held off from acting upon it until now. Not anymore. She and her pathetic excuse of a husband will suffer for their betrayal.

Hermione complied, leaning toward him and taking the zipper between her teeth. She slowly lowered it down and pulled back when it was at the base.

"Good girl," he praised. "What to do next? I'm sure you know what's going to happen now, and I'm also sure you can't pull all this down just with your teeth."

Hermione simply stared angrily as he waved his hand dismissively over his trousers and whatever he had on underneath.

"Well, never let it be said that I'm not a benevolent master," he said with a chuckle, and in one pull, he dragged his trousers down with his boxers, freeing his semi-hard member. For the first time, Hermione's eyes lay on a manhood other than her husband's, and several sensations ran through her. Repulsiveness, fascination, and a forbidden sense of wonder. She immediately quashed those emotions.

Harry smirked, having seen how she kept taking occasional glances at his manhood despite trying her hardest to keep her eyes away from what was undoubtedly a forbidden fruit.

"You can look at it. I don't mind," he taunted. Hermione's ire grew but she didn't oblige, seeing how it was not a command. Harry chuckled.

"Your next task is to get me ready, Mrs. Weasley," Harry emphasized who she was, reminding her once again that she was a married woman and watching in satisfaction how she had already settled into her role of an obedient servant. A little widening of her eyes was all she reacted with as she turned toward him, fixating her eyes on his slowly hardening prick. Just when she was about to lean forward, no doubt to take him in her mouth, Harry stopped her.

Hermione looked up at him only to see him smirking.

"I didn't ask you to give me a blowjob. A bit too eager, are we?" he chuckled as she pursed her lips. "No, Mrs. Weasley. You can blow me later. For now, put that mouth to a better use. Reach down properly and start playing with my balls. Make sure you put your all into it. I'd hate it if the vow has to push you. Do it so good that you get me ready without taking me in your mouth."

Hermione had already accepted that she had no choice but to go ahead with whatever he wanted her to do. As such, there was nothing she could achieve by protesting or acting reluctant. Even if she tried to, the vow would simply act up and force her to get on with it, and it was not a pleasant feeling whenever it happened.

Thus, without the vow forcing her to do anything, she leaned forward and took one of his balls in her mouth, rolling it around. She recalled everything she had read up on how to pleasure a man. Soon, her tongue joined the fray, lapping away at the uneven skin of his balls. She didn't simply do what was necessary, but she put her full effort into it. She began to drop kisses over his balls, her full lips pressing firmly over his testicles repeatedly while simultaneously lapping away with her sinful wet tongue as if they were some delicious treat.

She had not forgotten how he had asked her to put her all into it. She tried to recall what Ron liked. However, the moment she thought of her husband, her mind was filled with both anger and shame. Anger for the predicament he had pushed her in, and shame because she was cheating on him with someone who used to be their best friend. Unabashedly, she sucked his balls and recalled how much Ron liked it when she made eye contact with him during a blowjob. She looked up at Harry and found him staring back at her.

For Harry, that sight topped everything that had happened so far, which was admittedly not much. The vision she presented with her arms and legs bound behind him and her mouth gagged with his balls as she worshipped them whilst looking up at him with those eyes full of anger, shame, humiliation, and submission sent a thrill of pleasure through him.

He had been looking forward to seeing this sight for so long. This woman and her husband had betrayed him when he was possibly at his weakest and he had wanted them to suffer for all they did. However, he had held back for so long, letting them live in a false sense of security and knowing that one day, their perfect little world would be torn apart like shattered glasses. It had taken its time, but finally, their day of reckoning had come.

He would humiliate them and he would make them suffer. By the time he was done, they would curse the day they had decided to turn their backs on Harry Potter when he needed them the most.

Hermione was diligently doing what was asked of her, even though she was filled with nothing but shame and repulsiveness. She was enthusiastically worshipping the balls of a man other than her husband. She had never felt so humiliated before. However, if she thought this was the extent of her humiliation then she was sorely mistaken.

Her eyes widened when Harry reached down and gripped her hair harshly. She could not even cry out in pain with her mouth full of his balls. Looking up at him, she was further shocked when he grabbed hold of his prick and slapped her square in the face with it.

"Remember this when you go back home today and sleep beside your wretched husband, Weasley," Harry taunted as he delivered another smack of his cock on her pretty face. "Remember how you were sucking your former best friend's balls while he smacked your face with his cock. Remember how it felt to have the cock of someone other than your husband touch you so casually."

Hermione took it all in silence apart from the lewd sounds of her sucking on his balls. She could feel thick strands of saliva dripping down her chin and onto her clothes but she paid it no mind, engrossed in sucking his balls as instructed. She could afford nothing less.

So engrossed she was that she almost missed his next command.

"That's enough. You can stop," Harry instructed. With an aching mouth, Hermione stopped and pulled back. Her hands were bound behind her and she could not even wipe her mouth.

Harry smirked at her insolent face. She was defiant now, but soon, she won't be.

"It's bad manners to leave your spit on someone else's property, Mrs. Weasley. I thought you knew better," he mocked. "Go on. Wipe all that spit off my balls. I believe your face will make for a nice mop."

Hermione glared but did as she was told. Harry watched in satisfaction as she leaned forward and rubbed his balls all over her face, making sure she both covered it entirely and all her saliva was wiped off his nutsack. By the time she was done, her face was glistening in the light.

"You look really sexy like this," he praised. "A very natural look, I must say. You better make sure to go back home with a natural face every time from now on. My spit, your spit, my cum, your cum. Any will do."

Hermione's lips pursed at his remark. By now, it had dawned on her just what else she would be doing if magic didn't judge her debt to be over by then. She just hoped it would happen before she crossed that point of no return.

Harry smirked, knowing exactly what she was thinking. However, if she believed this predicament of hers was ending anytime soon, she was sorely mistaken. The settlement of her debt required him to be satisfied with her repayment. However, the pit of hatred burned like the inferno from hell inside him, and he knew it was not going to get extinguished anytime soon. There was no possibility that she could get those galleons to repay him either. He would make sure of that.

Hermione Weasley would be his plaything for as long as he held even an ounce of hatred for her and her husband, and her humiliation would only intensify with time.

He looked down at her kneeling form, face covered in spit and saliva, and smirked.

"You've done a fine job indeed, Mrs. Weasley. But I hope you're not tired. We've only just started," Harry said, tilting her chin up with his shoe-clad foot. He smirked at the look of affront she gave him at the disgraceful treatment. "This angers you so much, right? This feeling of humiliation, helplessness… I bet you're feeling so betrayed right now."

Hermione said nothing. She kept glaring at him.

Harry said in a mocking tone, "Afterall, how could Harry do this to me? He was such a good boy, always putting others before himself."

Hermione remained silent.

"Betrayal doesn't feel good, does it?" Harry asked with a toothless grin. "You have no idea how I felt back then. But you will. You will feel that and much more. Both you and that worthless excuse of a trash bin you call a husband."

"He's more of a man than you could ever hope to be, Master," she bit out.

"Oh, is that so?" Harry asked, amused. "Such a man that he all but compelled you to become my slut. I'm sure he's more of a man than any other."

Hermione gritted her teeth and looked away.

"You know it as well, Weasley. Deep inside, you know it is because of him that you've ended up like this," Harry sneered. "But I'm not interested in that cretin. He will get his soon enough. For now, I'd like you to do something else."

Hermione schooled her features and mentally prepared herself for whatever depravity he had thought of, knowing she had no other choice. She looked up at him resolutely.

"What can I do for you, Master?"

Harry smirked.

Her humiliation had only begun.

TBC.

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Chapter Text

"Nice of you to be so generous, even though you have no choice," Harry smirked as he leaned back and regarded her. She was showing every bit of defiance she could but instead of angering him, it felt amusing.

Hermione had always been stuck up, and that trait wouldn't just go so easily. However, he resolved to break her within an hour. She would be nothing but his submissive bitch when he was done with her today.

His smirk widened when she glared.

Ensuring that her limbs were free of any restrictions, Harry commanded, "Strip for me, Weasley. And be sexy about it. I want to see what that trash bin of a husband of yours gets to see every night when he gets home."

Hermione's glare could've melted the polar caps but her hands went to work straight away. One by one, she started to unbutton her thick white overcoat, revealing a brown top with white polka dots scattered over it. The top was tucked inside a pair of dark brown jeans. Overall, it was a relatively plain attire. He could easily associate Hermione with it, considering she had never been much into styling or splurging on expensive apparel. Even a few times that he had spotted her around the ministry or elsewhere before, she would be found garbed in a seemingly unassuming fashion.

Harry merely leaned back, making himself as comfortable as he could with his hard member exposed. He didn't miss how Hermione's eyes would occasionally glance at it or how she would gulp at its sight and he smirked whenever their eyes met, making her look away abruptly once she realized she'd been caught.

Her clothes were nothing noteworthy but the way she took them off was certainly sexy, as he had asked of her. The magic of the vow forced her to do her best, perhaps even better than anything she'd ever shown her husband.

She took off the overcoat and let it fall to the floor before she grabbed the ribbon tying her top around her waist. It came undone in one swift pull, parting in the middle and exposing her pale, unblemished skin to his naked gaze. One arm came out of the other and she let the top drop to the floor as well, rendering her upper body entirely bare apart from the modest white bra that covered her breasts.

All the while, the brunette swayed from side to side in a way that was oddly reminiscent of what Pansy had done for him in the same spot. It felt poetic to see how he was subjecting Hermione to the same depravity he had subjected Pansy to, particularly considering the enmity between the two witches. The only difference was that he hated Hermione even more than he hated Pansy.

The former Parkinson heiress had always been a bitch to him, and it had been easier to dislike her. They had never had a bond and he had never trusted her. However, Hermione was one of his first and truest friends. She was someone he had trusted implicitly, only for her to throw that trust back in his face. It was a betrayal of the highest order, and it was unforgivable in his eyes.

When he looked at Hermione, he felt exactly how he had felt when he looked at Ginny – filled with loathing and disgust that fueled his desire to see them broken in front of him. He had tamed Pansy to make her a servant who would cater to all his needs dutifully. Hermione or Ginny though deserved none of that. They would be his playthings to play with for as long as he pleased before being discarded once he was fed up with them. That would be their future and that would be his payback.

Ronald though would also be getting his comeuppance soon enough. It was inevitable, but the asshole would suffer first. He would see his entire world torn apart right in front of his eyes while he would be able to do nothing but watch helplessly. Only then would he decide if it was enough.

For now, though, Harry pushed those morose thoughts out of his mind and concentrated on the obvious effort the brunette was putting into her striptease, although it was not much of a tease. She truly needed improvement. Perhaps his dear Pansy would be up for a few lessons.

'Now that's a sight I'd love to see,' he thought mirthfully, imagining Hermione and Pansy – two witches who hated each other's guts, together like that.

He knew it was only the magic of the vow that was making Hermione do this and he had no qualms about it. It was fine as long as it led to her humiliation and degradation. He wondered if she had even done this before. Probably not, considering how she was going about it.

Her body was thin and lithe, nothing like the curvaceous forms of Cissa or Pansy. Her tits were on the smaller side and her belly was flat. However, he would be lying if he said she wasn't attractive. There was a reason after all that a vain asshole like Ronald Weasley had married her.

Hermione was all woman even though she was not very curvaceous. She had a lithe build. Perhaps a few dumps of his magical cum could help her fill out in all the right places, he thought, smirking, as he watched her turn away from him. The brunette bent over, pushing her ass toward him, and grabbed the waistband of her jeans, slowly pulling them down her legs.

Her milky white ass became visible first, hidden behind a pair of white cotton panties and Harry sighed. She could make herself look so much more appealing if only she put in the effort. Alas, she truly was still a stuck-up disappointment and needed a lot of refinement.

"Come here," he commanded as she stepped out of the jeans. Hermione turned around and obeyed his command. She walked over until she was standing right in front of him with barely a stitch of clothing on her lithe frame. Harry deliberately leaned back and looked her up and down, making sure she saw his eyes traveling from her legs, which were admittedly long and toned, to her thighs. He smirked when she squirmed in place, feeling his eyes on her covered womanhood, and Harry, unhurried, took his time to properly take her in.

"Do you shave down there, Hermione?"

"Harry!" She cried out, scandalized. Immediately, she winced as the magic of the vow kicked in at his command. "I'm sorry. Master."

Harry chuckled, waving his hand dismissively.

"You can't be so bashful about such a trivial thing. After all, you had my balls in your mouth not too long ago," he replied, reaching forward with his right hand. Before Hermione could react, he pushed the front of her panties to the side and nodded approvingly. "Nice. I like it hairless."

Hermione could only stand there, shaking in mortification as Harry's hands reached around her. Her breath hitched when he cupped her ass-cheeks with either hand and sank his fingers into her skin, gripping her firmly and pulling her closer. Her legs were on his right and she frowned when he slowly turned her to the right.

Confused, she looked at him and a foreboding feeling washed over her as he smirked.

"Bend over," he instructed. Hermione's eyes widened in understanding and she gritted her teeth. Her fists clenched as she glared at him.

Harry simply smirked at her impotent glare and watched as she bent over his thigh.

"I've hated you for so long, Weasley," he said.

Hermione shivered at the feeling of his calloused palm as it softly stroked her naked rear. Only her panties preserved her modesty from his eyes – eyes belonging to someone other than her husband, eyes that should never see what lay underneath. She hoped with all her might that her debt would be repaid before anything more could happen, yet a part of her knew it was a hope in futility. The vow did not restrict her and she gave in to her inner voice.

"I'm so flattered, Master," she replied with a barely concealed snark in her voice. He might have command over her but her voice was hers, and so were her thoughts.

Harry chuckled at her attempt at rebellious behavior, finding it more amusing than offensive. Yet, he could not let such behavior go unpunished. If the bint thought she could act up just because he was not commanding her then she had another thing coming.

"You've earned yourself a massive fortune, Weasley," he continued. "A massive fortune of punishment. And as your former friend, I would graciously shoulder the responsibility of taking care of it all."

"How generous of you," she gritted out. "How does it feel, my asshole Master, to have your hands on a married woman? To touch a woman you should never touch so casually? I bet you must get a kick out of tarnishing other people's happiness, Master."

Harry let out another amused chuckle.

"I reserve this special treatment for the truly lucky ones," he replied, earning a derisive scoff from the woman. He rubbed his hand across the cheeks of her lovely arse. She truly had a perky rear. It was by no means as wide or as plump as Pansy's or even Cissa's but Hermione had an ass she could be proud of. "I'm sure you're eager for me to give you a treat, hmm?"

"Do your worst, Master," she hissed.

"Don't worry. It'll be better than anything you've ever felt, I'm sure," Harry smirked.

"Oh, I'm sure," she scoffed. "What are you even gonna do? Spank me? That's your little treat? I told you my husband is more of a man than you could ever hope to be. Nothing you can do will ever—MMMHHHH!"

Hermione's eyes widened in shock as a jolt of pure, unbridled pleasure shot through the supple skin of her rear, sending a thrum of immense desire straight through her womanhood, as Harry's hand collided with the cheek of her ass. Against her wishes and beyond all her control, her core dampened. It felt as if Hermione had been betrayed by her own body as arousal she had never felt before coursed through her entire being, overwhelming her. The brunette tried with all her might to keep her raging emotions under firm control lest she lose herself to whatever had suddenly happened to her.

'What did he just do!?' She thought frantically, filled with both shock and a forbidden desire to feel it once again.

"Like it?" He smirked, caressing the cheek he had just smacked. His hand was surrounded by a mysterious blue glow and the large red welt of his palm stood out against its pale surroundings on the cheek of her lovely ass. "I bet you did. That moan was filthy. I knew you were the quiet sort, Weasley. After all, you tried to keep it down every time you and that wastebin of a husband of yours did it in that tent."

Hermione let out another moan as his hand smacked her other cheek. His palm made a satisfying smack as it struck the round flesh of her lovely ass. However, what made Harry feel much more satisfied was the vocal reaction she failed to hold back on. Her snarky attitude had become a thing of the past in such a short span. He watched as she lay over his lap, like a demure submissive, with her pert rear hiked up in the air as his hand smacked one cheek after the other, enjoying how her flesh rippled and turned an angry shade of red.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" He chuckled, tugging on the strap of her bra across her back. He released it, making her cry out as the strap hit her back with a loud smack. "You're loving this pain. Oh. You. Slut."

"S-shut up—ahhhhh!" she whimpered as he delivered another resounding smack on her ass. Her ivory skin was already proudly displaying his handprints.

"Now that's the sound I like coming out of your silly mouth," Harry smirked. "You've been a very bad girl, Mrs. Weasley. I never really liked your bossy attitude, you know? Always found it irritating. Guess my younger self was too happy to have friends for the first time that he was happy to ignore everything you did," he chuckled self-depreciatingly before his eyes hardened. "Friends that would eventually turn their backs on him when he needed them the most. I feel like I've harped on that little tidbit a few times already now. It isn't as if you need to be reminded. Nah. I guess I should get started with the punishment I told you I'll be taking responsibility for."

"Then what the hell was all this until now?" She asked petulantly. She could not keep herself from moaning as he smacked her ass once more.

"Oh this?" He asked, chuckling when she moaned after another smack. "This was just a teaser. You liked feeling it, didn't you? You liked feeling the hand of someone other than your husband spanking your ass. Tell me truthfully, Weasley. Who touches you better? Me, or your trash of a husband?"

Nothing felt better than getting a woman to admit that his touch was better than her husband's, and Harry's smirk widened as Hermione whispered a shameful "You."

"Thought so," Harry chuckled. "And who spanks you better? Me, or your wastebin of a husband?"

"You, master…" she whispered demurely.

"Good girl. Alas, your punishment awaits."

Before Hermione could catch her bearings, her world exploded in a mixture of pain and forbidden desire as she felt something flat and hard smack her ass firmly. The audible whack of the paddle Harry had conjured out of nothing as it struck her ass was so satisfying that he delivered a couple more smacks in quick succession, turning the brunette into a hot, shivering mess.

Hermione was whimpering, lying prone on his lap as he swatted her ass. She could manage no word out of her mouth as she kept groaning and gasping with each solid impact. She didn't know what was wrong with her. She hated that she was being degraded like this, hated having to pay for something her pathetic husband had done. But another emotion was slowly overpowering her hatred. Her desire for this to continue… her want for more of it… to be treated even more roughly…

She truly was a pathetic bint, she realized, crying out when he smacked her ass yet again.

"I don't like this too much. Feels like I'm the only one doing anything here," Harry mused aloud before his eyes brightened as if he'd gotten a brilliant idea. "How about you get a bit more involved, huh? Every time I punish you like this, you have to keep a count of it. We can stop when we reach twenty. That's the date of your wedding anniversary, isn't it? Sounds like a fine number indeed. Oh, and if you miss even one, we'll restart, so keep that in mind."

Hermione had admitted that she was a depraved woman for liking this torture so much. Yet, her stubborn self would not concede so easily. She seethed in her mind, cursing herself for agreeing to such humiliation, but she had never expected that Harry had changed so much that he would degrade her like this. She had expected him to insult her or make her do his chores. Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined Harry would make her do everything a married woman shouldn't with someone other than her husband. Shame coursed through her at her predicament and she gasped when he smacked her ass yet again. Her eyes widened when she felt none of the pleasure that she had been feeling from his rough treatment mere moments ago. Instead, all she felt was the pain that accompanied his spank.

Without any conscious effort on her part, a breathless "One!" left her lips, and Harry grinned. He wondered if she would say anything, but when all he heard was her ragged breathing, he reared his hand back and smacked her ass with the paddle again.

"Two!" She cried out. Harry gave her no respite this time and delivered four solid smacks in quick succession, alternating between the cheeks of her ass.

"Three! Four! Five! Ahhh! Six!" Hermione whimpered. Her ass felt like it was on fire. There was no pleasure to be obtained from this, unlike what she had been feeling when he was spanking her using his hands. Instead, this was pure pain that added to her humiliation. Never had she felt so helpless and all she could do was curse this asshole in her mind for doing this to her. She knew he must have used some magic to prevent her from deriving any sort of pleasure from this relentless torture. After what had happened already so far, she would put nothing past him.

"Good girl," he said condescendingly. "Five points to Gryffindor for keeping up."

"Go to hell, you asshole," she hissed through clenched teeth. "You're the lowest of scum for doing this to me, and for what? To fulfil your selfish greed for revenge? You're pathetic."

Harry remained calm as he stared at the inflamed flesh of her ass.

"Tell me, Weasley, do you feel any bit of remorse for how you betrayed me? And tell me the truth," he commanded calmly, keeping the paddle at the ready.

"No!" Hermione hissed. "You deserved it for endangering so many lives, not only ours but of everyone else's. For charging headfirst without a plan, just like you used to do when we were in school. And don't let me get started on you said about poor Ginny—AAAHHHH! SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE! TEN! ELEVEN! AHHHH! TWELVE!"

Smiling toothlessly, Harry smacked her ass with the paddle, showing little mercy. He could see the blood vessels threatening to burst under her skin and instead of pity, he felt even more enraged. He firmly shut his eyes and took deep breaths. He didn't want to injure her.

"I'm so glad you believe that, and with so much passion as well, you know," He replied with a chuckle, "and what's this? Bitch you're getting hot with this!"

Harry ran a finger over her slit, feeling the way her panties were clinging to her pussy. It was enough proof of the fact that this bitch was loving what he was doing to her.

'She seems to have a pain kink,' he thought, amused.

For Hermione, shame was her primary feeling coursing through her. Her body was betraying her, exposing a side of her she had wanted to keep buried forever. No man had ever treated her like this, at least until now. How unfortunate it was that the man who should treat her like this never would, and in his place, it was someone she now knew was one of her biggest enemies who was doing it to her.

She wanted to hold back, to force her body to react a certain way, yet as she counted with cries accentuating each smack that he delivered to her rear, she could not bury the perverse voice inside her that cried along with her. Only this voice was filled with want, perhaps need even, and Hermione could do nothing but lay there on his lap, whimpering as she realized that she was slowly coming to like this pain as well. Pain that was the furthest thing from pleasure.

She knew there was nothing she could do to escape this, and whatever else might come her way. She had made the deal with the devil and she had no choice but to see it out. No one would come to help her, not after she had let the magic of the vow decide her fate. Her only hope was magic itself, but if even this was not enough in the eyes of magic, then she was truly scared of finding out just what else she would have to go through before her debt would be deemed to be paid.

"A lot," Harry replied, amused, and Hermione's eyes widened. Shocked, she stared at the floor as she realized that Harry could read her mind and that he had probably been reading it all this while.

"Indeed," Harry called out, chuckling. "And I even know how much you're loving this, you filthy slut, not that I needed to, considering… you know…"

Hermione almost jumped in shock as he pushed the fabric of her panties that covered her womanhood and slid his fingers over her wet pussy lips. His firm hand over her back was the only thing that prevented her from falling out of his lap. Eyes wide, she could only stare at the floor and wince as he wiped his fingers over the sensitive skin of her ass. She was grateful that healing magic existed, otherwise, she didn't think she would be able to sit properly for at least a week.

"I never knew you were such a slut, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said mockingly. "Throughout our Hogwarts years, you used to mock those who frequented the broom closets. I remember your disgusted face whenever you saw people kissing each other in the common room or anywhere outside. You were always such a stuck-up bint. Look at you now. You're getting all hot and aroused after being spanked so roughly by a man other than your husband. What a filthy slut you are."

"Shut up—AHHH! SIXTEEN! SEVENTEEN! EIGHTEEN!"

Harry pulled the paddle off her right cheek and smirked. He loved to see the effect this treatment was having on her. She looked so uncomfortable on his lap, squirming and whimpering, and her previously-pale ass resembled a tomato.

"How much you must be loving your dear husband right now, I wonder," he mocked further. "Thanks to his sheer brilliance and intellect, his wife is now getting spanked hard like a whore by a man who should never touch her like this."

For further emphasis, Harry ran his finger over her wet slit once again, parting her folds and taking in the glistening pink skin underneath.

"Tell me, Weasley," he emphasized her surname for the umpteenth time as if determined to keep reminding her just who she was and how wrong it was for her to be here in this position with him. "Your husband does have a cock, right? I'm not mocking him here. Genuinely asking, because it looks like you have the cunt of a virgin."

Hermione's heart had been darkening with hatred for Ron the more time she spent being humiliated and degraded in such a degenerate manner. Rage clouded her vision whenever she thought about him now. However, she still didn't like how this asshole was insulting him every time he could.

"I told you… he's more of a man than you could ever hope to be," she hissed through gritted teeth.

"Didn't you tell me a few minutes ago that I touch you better than your shitty husband, Mrs. Weasley?" Harry asked, amused. Hermione grimaced as she remembered her shameful admission.

Suddenly, she was sent tumbling over to the floor and she cried out as she landed harshly on the hard surface. Shocked, she turned toward him and was treated to the sight of that damnable smirk on his face.

"Let's play a game," he said, smirking. "I'll ask you questions and you'll answer them truthfully. You can stay there like that. I think it suits you more."

Hermione's fingers curled into a fist as she stared at him, knowing he would be asking something to further humiliate her and Ron.

"Who has a bigger cock, Mrs. Weasley? Me? Or your trash husband?"

"You," the answer came out automatically and Harry chuckled at the defeated look on her face. He didn't need validation, least of all from someone like her, but driving the point of humiliation home repeatedly was the game.

"Who has pleasured you more? Your husband until today? Or me in the short period we've been here?"

"You, master," she whispered, her conviction all but shattered. Harry was not forcing her to lie. All he had told her was to answer truthfully, and she knew. Deep down, she knew that he had brought her more pleasure, even in a perverse sort of way, than whatever her husband had done to her until now. Utter revulsion coursed through her at that thought. Until now, she had blamed the magic of the vow and even Ron for her predicament, but for the first time, she felt guilty. Her thoughts and her emotions were her own, and they were screaming the truth to her. She knew. Deep down, she knew no matter what her husband ever did, he would never compare to whatever Harry had done to her so far.

'And if the vow doesn't free me from my debt, then who knows what else he would do to me?' she thought, hating herself for feeling the slightest hint of eagerness to find out.

All the while, Harry kept listening to her inner thoughts with a triumphant expression on his face, letting her know he was perfectly aware of what she felt and what she had been thinking about. He reveled in her humiliation, both forced on her and the one he had brought out of her forcibly – the one she probably never even knew about.

"See, that wasn't too hard," Harry said in amusement. "And now that we both know you've been lying, mind admitting the truth behind that statement of yours? 'My husband is more of a man than you could ever hope to be,' I believe you said."

"I lied because I didn't want to admit it," she whispered.

"Admit what?"

"That my husband doesn't compare to you in any manner."

"Come here," he instructed, patting his lap, as he stared at her defeated face. He smirked when she gingerly stood up and assumed her previous position without any prompting on his part like a truly obedient submissive. She had settled into her new role nicely, but he felt a little more enforcement was needed so that she would remember where her place was.

He picked up the paddle that he had placed on the couch beside him and before she could react, he smacked the right cheek of her ass twice in quick succession, making her let out a loud moan.

"NINETEEN! AAHHHHH! MMMMHHHH! TWENTY!"

"Wow, look at that. You counted them all perfectly. Good. Very good," Harry praised and put the paddle away. Hermione whimpered on his lap, feeling the searing pain in her ass. It felt oh so painful, and yet she could not stop the wetness pooling between her legs. Harry chuckled and gathered her wet juices on his fingers before he rubbed them over both the cheeks of her ass. Hermione winced at the rough contact before her eyes widened when he blew cold air over her wet ass.

Harry was amused as she released a soft sigh at the sensation of cold air over her sensitive skin. He could feel that tautness leaving her muscles and how she relaxed on his lap. She seemed to believe her humiliation was over now. How utterly mistaken she was.

"Tell me truthfully, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, smirking. "Did you like your punishment?"

"Yes, master," she whispered truthfully, as her master had asked of her.

"That was not my intention," he chuckled. "Alas, nothing I can do about that now."

Hermione remained silent on his lap with her eyes barely open as she lay limply.

"Tell me truthfully again, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said. "Are you feeling aroused?"

"Yes, master," she whispered truthfully again, as her master had asked of her.

"Indeed?" Harry chuckled.

"Yes, master."

"Do you want to cum, Mrs. Weasley?"

"Yes, master."

Harry nodded.

"And how would you prefer to do it?"

Blearily, Hermione turned her head to glance at him before her eyes dropped to his semi-hard prick. Her eyes traveled back up to his face and she replied, "I would prefer to do it with your thing, master."

Harry smirked at the shameful expression on her face. The magic of the vow was not letting her be anything but truthful and he knew the taboo seed of how someone else's cock would feel inside her had already been planted in her mind.

"Do you want me to fuck you, Mrs. Weasley?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow, head cocked to the side as he regarded her.

Shamefully, Hermione nodded.

"Yes, master…"

Suddenly, Harry stood up and once again, Hermione was sent tumbling to the floor. She winced at the impact and looked up at him.

Harry was staring at her almost-naked form and Hermione found, to more of her shame, that she was getting hotter with the realization that he could perhaps ask to see her naked. She was mortified to discover that a part of her wanted him to make her strip entirely. She wanted him to see her naked, to see the sight that only her husband should, and that thought filled her with utter shame.

She was shocked, however, when he started to fix his clothes.

Silently, she watched as he dressed back before looking at his smirking face.

"Good to know how depraved you truly are, Mrs. Weasley," he stated in a matter-of-fact voice, making her feel even more shameful. She knew he was aware of everything she had been thinking about. "But I have places to be. Can't let you hog all my time, you know? It's getting late as well."

Hermione looked out of the window and saw that the Sun had already set and the entire neighborhood was shrouded in darkness. Not even the streetlights were alight.

"However, I'm not done with you. I'm your master until magic decides otherwise, after all."

Hermione stared up at him helplessly.

"I'll tell you the time and place for our next meeting," he smirked. "Until then though, there are a few things I'll like you to do. Pay attention. I won't repeat anything."

Demurely, Hermione nodded.

"First, you are not allowed to climax by any means until our next meeting. That means no masturbation or letting your husband touch you, among anything else that depraved mind of yours might be able to conjure."

The brunette's eyes widened in shock but she had no choice but to nod in resignation.

"Good. Second, you are not to heal your ass until the day after tomorrow. Let it stay like that."

"B-but—"

She trailed off at the sight of his raised eyebrow.

"I don't like it when my servants object or question me, Mrs. Weasley," he said in a warning tone. Hermione nodded obediently. "Good. The third thing is for you to get some sexy attire for yourself, lingerie included. I like to take in the sight before I take them off."

Hermione made to speak up before abruptly shutting her mouth. Harry could hear her mind working furiously about how she would get enough money to buy everything when suddenly she heard a soft clang. Looking over, she saw a small bag full of galleons fall to the floor.

"Go on, pick it up. Use it to get yourself the best of the goods you can find," he smirked. Hermione nodded submissively and reached forward to grab the bag.

"The fourth and the final thing you need to do is to think of a proper name for me to call you. It should remind you of your place here, so do keep that in mind," Harry smirked. "I'd love to keep reminding you who you are, but I feel you'd like something personal and I'm open to accommodate that. I'm not unkind, after all."

Hermione nodded obediently in understanding. Harry was truly surprised but not at all unwelcoming of how quickly and easily she had understood her role in this and how seamlessly she had transitioned into this master-servant thing they had going on.

"Alright then, I'll be going now. You can get dressed and leave whenever you want. I'll be seeing you soon," Harry nodded, and before Hermione could blink, he apparated away.

The brunette stared at the spot he had been in mere moments ago before her eyes dropped to her body. Gingerly, she stood up and walked over to the mirror in the corner. She turned around and looked over her shoulder, grimacing at the sorry sight that her rear was. Wincing, she walked back to where her clothes were and gingerly started to put them on. Her top was easy enough but her jeans were another matter entirely. The moment she felt them touch her rear, a searing pain shot through her and she stopped.

It was half an hour later when an utterly spent Hermione Weasley tentatively walked out of #4 Privet Drive and with a final look around the dark and deserted neighborhood, she apparated back home.

TBC.

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Chapter Text

Her apartment felt oppressive as Hermione Weasley walked in, locking the door behind her with a soft click. Eyes closed, the brunette leaned back against the wooden frame with a sigh. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself down after the day she'd had, and what a day it was.

In mere hours, her world had been turned upside down, and not for the better. Harry Potter, her former best friend, had come barging in her life like a raging tempest and without any significant effort on his part, upended the usual calm life she had going on for her.

Hermione could scarcely believe it had truly happened, but the stingy reminder whenever the fabric of her jeans shifted over her arse was ever present. Involuntarily, she couldn't help but reminisce the experience once again.

Harry had used her to dole out his punishment, and as surprising that side of him had been, what shocked her even more was how she had responded to his treatment of her. Time and again, that filthy inner voice that resided in her mind called for more, to treat her more roughly, to use her like the filthy slut he had been calling her all the while. It filled her with shame. She had cheated on Ron. There were no two ways about it. Even if nothing too extreme had happened, she knew, deep inside, that she had cheated on him. The same filthy inner voice had taken charge when responding to his questions, further adding to her humiliation, and she knew it had all been true.

She still remembered everything that had happened in that room vividly, and she groaned when she felt the familiar wetness developing in her womanhood. Subconsciously, her hand pushed past the waistband of her jeans and her white cotton panties to tease her lower lips and Hermione groaned as her fingers came into contact with her hot wetness.

Suddenly, a jolt of shock ran straight through her and Hermione hastily pulled her hand out of her jeans, her eyes wide open and her breathing ragged.

'Right… He forbade me from pleasuring myself,' she thought to herself in recollection.

Hermione gritted her teeth in frustration and let out a wild cry, pulling her hair and scratching her scalp roughly as she fell to her knees, gripping her hair harshly as she stared at the floor. She felt constricted. She felt worthless. She felt at a loss for how to keep these forbidden desires at bay. She was a married woman, for fuck's sake. No matter what kind of a man her husband was, no matter how worthless of a person he was, no matter what a fucking moron he was, she had to remain faithful to him. However, here she was, having been humiliated by a man who was not her husband, having let him touch her so intimately, in a way no man other than her husband should, and yet instead of feeling disgusted, she was craving more of it.

She had no idea what that filthy bastard had done to her, but she had never felt something like that before. She wanted to feel more of it, and the same filthy voice once again wished for this vow to never end.

Hermione's eyes closed in resignation when she realized she was truly hoping for it.

'And he's not even gone for the best bits yet,' the filthy voice whispered yet again. 'Admit it. You want it too. You even said it to him. That you want to cum. That you want to cum with his filthy adulterous cock. You've never seen anything like it. You want it. More than your husband's. More than anything else. Admit it, you filthy slut.'

The voice was roaring in her mind now, and all Hermione Weasley could do was stay there on her knees, clutching her hair in a vice grip, and stare listlessly at the tiled floor under her that reflected her sorry face.

She truly was a pathetic woman.

The sounds of approaching footsteps jolted her out of her frustrated predicament and she quickly brandished her wand as she stood up. A few flicks took care of the little smudges on her face and smoothened down her hair. Just as she put her wand away, she looked over and saw none other than her husband come from their bedroom.

"Hermione?" Ronald Weasley came to a stop a few steps away from her. "Damn, where'd you go? Looked at the time, have ya?"

Hermione released a deep breath, doing her best to bury every bit of frustration that crept up inside her at the mere sight of her husband.

"Whatever," Ron rolled his eyes. "Come on, get to it already."

"Get to what, exactly?" She asked with slight edge in her voice which undoubtedly went over her husband's head as he rolled his eyes once again. She stared at him expectantly.

"Dinner, what else? C'mon, Mione. It's late already. I'm famished."

"Ron…" She sighed, trying with all her might to not lose her temper. She was already very frustrated, and the last thing she was in mood for right now was her husband's entitlement for a home-cooked meal which he was not going to help her prepare. "I'm really tired right now. Can we please order something?"

"Tired doing what, exactly?" He asked with slight edge in his voice, obviously not happy. "Don't you sit all day? Since when did sitting on the desk all day long started getting people tired?"

"What the hell is wrong with you, Ron!?" Hermione cried out, her patience on the precipice.

"Why are you shouting?" Ron asked, equally irritated. "You stay out without telling me you'll be late, and now you're making excuses for not making dinner. What is wrong with you?"

"You can't be serious right now," Hermione hissed. "I work all day to earn, come home to make you dinner, and one day I'm tired, I can't even expect you to understand?"

"I would've if you weren't making silly excuses," Ron retorted. "And what was that about working all day to earn? I'm not sitting on my ass all day doing fuckall. But that's what you truly think, eh? To you, I'm still the loser who used to copy your essays to get a pass for homework."

"I never said any of that!" Hermione retorted.

"You all but said it! Don't try to lie. It's written all over your face."

Hermione could not have denied it even if she wanted to, and all she could do was stare at him with her chest heaving and her face set into a glare. Ron did not budge in the slightest, glaring at her with gritted teeth.

"You know what," she seethed. "Maybe you're right. Maybe you still are the loser who could never do anything. And maybe that's the reason why I'm so frustrated right now I don't even wanna look at your sorry face."

Hermione had always known it. Deep inside, she had always known that Ron was a lazy idiot with a sense of entitlement that sometimes dwarfed even Malfoy's, but something about his character had endeared him to her. That was why they had been together for so many years now and had even survived the war. Yet, after living together for as many years now, his flaws had slowly become even more glaring to her.

The most recent incident had only driven the point home permanently. He was a careless individual who would drown but take her with him. That was what had driven her into a corner this time, leaving her with no option but to be Harry Potter's little plaything.

Just why was she doing this anymore? She knew she didn't care as much for him as she once did, and he could rot in prison for his foolish behavior. It was only the realization that she was as much in this, at least in legal terms, and would lose everything as well, if she did not abide by whatever Potter was subjecting her to, that kept her grounded.

Hermione had realized some time ago that accepting Harry Potter's terms had been the only choice she could have made. There was no way she could trust her husband anymore, and she did not have enough resources to pay off the debt she owed him as well.

However, just because she had to endure the terms of the vow and repay her debt did not mean she had to put up with her husband's demanding behavior any more than she wanted to. And his little sense of entitlement was the last thing she wanted to tolerate, particularly now that his stupidity had forced her to be nothing more than Potter's whore.

As expected, Ron was shocked at her response and for a long while, he simply stared at her, as if disbelieving of the fact that it was truly her that was saying all this to him.

"What are you even saying?" He asked, his ire all but vanishing.

Hermione glared at him, gritting her teeth. She closed her eyes and heaved a deep breath, clenching her hands as she tried to compose herself.

"Forget it," she sighed. "I'm tired and I'm not hungry. You can either get a takeout or you can go to sleep without dinner. Merlin knows neither will kill you or anything."

Ron could only watch, shocked, as his wife walked away without a backward glance. All he could think about was what had just happened?

Hermione slammed the door to the bathroom behind her and without even bothering to take her clothes off, she twisted the knob and ran the shower. The warm water fell on her head, drizzling down her brown tresses and over her face, soaking her clothes completely in no time. All the while, she stood there in silence, eyes closed, as she tried to take her mind off her husband and his foolish antics.

Unbidden, her mind was assaulted by the memory of what had unfolded a few hours before. She had been stunned when it all began but she had no choice but to comply. The way he had treated her, humiliated her, degraded her…

Hermione sighed when she felt the heat developing between her thighs. Her body had suddenly developed this habit to betray her and it didn't seem like it would go away any time soon. She could not relieve herself either. He had explicitly forbidden her from doing it.

"Fuck," she whispered, frustrated.

-Break-

A soft crack was heard in the living room of #12 Grimmauld Place as Harry Potter apparated in with a self-satisfied smirk plastered on his smug visage. The evening had gone just as he had expected.

Hermione's new life had begun nicely, and he was already looking forward to how far he would take her. She would be a completely changed woman within only a year and he would ensure she stayed the same.

He looked around as he walked. Narcissa and Pansy were nowhere to be seen. He had already told them not to bother with dinner for him but he did not expect them to still be out on their errand.

He opened the door to his bedroom and his eyes immediately fell on his comfortable bed, or rather who was sprawled over it.

"Well," he opened. "This is a surprise."

On the bed was a blonde beauty who looked to be in her mid-twenties with unblemished skin and curves to kill for. Her large, voluptuous tits strained the fabric of the red lace bra she had on, and her nice, firm ass cheeks pushed the skimpy fabric of her red lace panties into the crack of her ass, displaying those supple orbs in all their spankable glory.

Accompanying her was a lovely brunette who looked as old as her companion with slightly less curvier tits and ass but large enough to strain their red lace constraints. Her legs were larger than the blonde's, although the blonde was more toned.

Both young women were on their hands and knees with their curvy rears hiked up to the sides of the bed and their heads turned toward the entrance, looking at him with nothing but lust.

"Aren't you going to unwrap your presents, my lord?" The brunette whispered sultrily. Harry chuckled.

"Presents?" He asked as he walked closer, pulling out the small cards that were tied to their panties with little red bows.

A heartfelt gratitude to my sexy master for saving me,

Your faithful,

Pansy

Chuckling, he read the other.

A reward much deserved, with many more to follow for my entire life.

With all my heart and soul,

Your Cissa

"I see," he smirked, throwing the two little letters to the side. "You two got this pair today?"

The women moaned as Harry reached around and cupped an ass-cheek each, squeezing and slapping gently, enjoying how they jiggled enticingly.

"This and many more," Pansy replied eagerly, smiling up at him. Harry chuckled and slapped their asses again.

"You've been good girls, haven't you?" He asked again with a soft caress of their ass.

"Nothing less than our lord deserves," Narcissa declared passionately.

"Good, good," he nodded. "And I'd be a very terrible lord if I didn't reward you for a job well done."

Both women looked at him eagerly, waiting for his next command.

"Tell you what," he said musingly. "I'll let you have the initiative as well. I'll let you do your thing and take charge when required. How does that sound?"

It seemed as if Narcissa's attitude suddenly did a complete 180. She turned toward Pansy and said in a no-nonsense voice, "Follow my lead, girl."

The brunette obliged and watched as the blonde rolled off the bed, kneeling in front of their lord on her knees.

"Come over and help me with our lord's cock, girl," Narcissa instructed.

Pansy hastened to follow and joined Narcissa in kneeling beside her on her knees. The blonde had already made quick work of his belt and buttons. Together, they undid the rest and grabbed hold of his trousers, pulling them down with his boxers and freeing up the most magnificent cock they had and will ever lay their eyes on.

"We have pleased our lord, haven't we?" Pansy asked with a giggle as Narcissa reached up and started to stroke it.

"You most certainly have," Harry replied with a chuckle. He loved seeing the former Parkinson heiress like this. Her bitchy personality might've been hot if it hadn't been too bitchy for his tastes but this submissive bitch he had at his beck and call now made him even more ecstatic. This was the same girl who had boldly proclaimed for the entire Hogwarts to hear that they should hand him over to Voldemort so that they could save their sorry hides.

Harry shook his head in amusement. They had truly come a long way.

"We will keep pleasing you, my lord," the brunette breathed, her eyes affixed on his cock before she leaned forward and took it in her mouth.

"Ah yes," Harry whispered in approval as Narcissa leaned down and took his balls in her mouth, worshipping them eagerly. His hands rested on their heads, stroking gently. After the arousal he had accumulated with his little session with Hermione, this was the perfect way to let everything out. He felt more of his cock slide down Pansy's throat until she had taken his entire length inside, pressing her nose against his trimmed pubic hair. Meanwhile, Narcissa was happily rolling one of his balls inside her mouth before switching over to the other.

Suddenly, the lovely blonde patted her partner on the arm and pulled off with a gasp, prompting Pansy to follow suit. Harry had no respite as his cock was engulfed inside Narcissa's wanton mouth and she eagerly fucked her face over it.

"You like that, my lord?" Pansy asked sultrily.

Harry grabbed her harshly by the hair and pulled her to her feet. Pansy giggled as she was manhandled and a loud moan escaped her lips as her lord pulled her into a passionate kiss. His free hand immediately grabbed her breast over her thin lace bra and she clutched his arm when he started to squeeze firmly.

Narcissa glanced up and hummed merrily around his cock just as Harry grabbed both of Pansy's tits, pushed the cup of her bra under them, and planted his mouth on one of her hardened nubs, sucking furiously.

"Ahhh yesss… ohh my lord… mmm…"

The brunette gasped and moaned as her lord showered her with more pleasure than she deserved. His lips wrapped around her rubbery nipple, nibbling on it with his teeth which he followed up on by rolling his sinful tongue around it. She could feel the familiar head developing fast between her legs and began to rub her inflamed womanhood over her lord's thigh.

Harry's hand immediately left her tits and cupped her ass and he quickly began to move her back and forth, earning a loud moan from the brunette as he expertly maneuvered her gushing pussy over his thigh, as if determined to make her cum without any penetration.

All the while, Narcissa kept watching them enjoy each other while blowing him off with increasing fervor. Her throat expanded and contracted to accommodate his sheer width and she repeatedly repressed her gag reflex, intent on bringing as much pleasure to her lord as she could. He might have more pets to play with now but she was still one of his firsts, and thus, one of his most loyal servants.

Suddenly, she felt her lord's cock being pulled out of her mouth and surprised, she stared up at him.

"Sorry, dear. Can't cum yet," he replied.

"But my lord can easily get ready again within seconds," Narcissa complained with a small pout which looked oddly adorable on her young face. Harry chuckled as he pulled her to her feet and gave her a firm kiss. The blonde immediately draped her entire body over his, pressing her generous curves against his chest and pulling his hands over her tits and ass. Harry was all too happy to oblige, letting his hands feast on the supple buffet of curves they had been blessed with.

Pulling away, he replied, "I'd rather get a treat first."

Surprised, Narcissa watched him step back. A plush armchair materialized behind him out of thin air and he dropped in it, regarding them.

"Well?" He remarked with a raised eyebrow. "Do I need to ask, my dears?"

Narcissa chuckled and shook her head.

"Of course not, my lord," she replied and turned toward her young partner. Smirking, she wrapped her arms around her and pulled her into a kiss. To her credit, Pansy hesitated for only a moment as she returned the kiss eagerly. Their soft, pink lips caressed each other erotically and Harry watched on with a smirk.

Narcissa was the one to take charge. She reached up and caressed Pansy's tits. She massaged her round orbs, squeezing them and making them bounce. Emboldened, Pansy started with the blonde's pert round rear, palming the supple flesh and sinking her fingers into it. She began to squeeze as Narcissa brushed her thumbs over her nipples before pinching them gently.

"Ahh fuck…" Pansy groaned, pulling away from the kiss.

"You're doing good, dear," Narcissa purred before glancing toward her lord from the corner of her eye. "But our lord deserves the best. Come."

Harry watched the blonde vixen lead the brunette over to the bed before she turned to smirk at him.

"I'm sure our lord would love to see your face buried in my cunt," she said saucily, winking at him.

Harry rolled his eyes with a chuckle.

Narcissa made Pansy lay down on her back before she climbed in the bed. She threw her leg over the brunette and straddled her face, planting her red lace covered crotch directly on the younger woman's face.

"Go ahead, dear Pansy. Put that tongue to good use," Narcissa instructed as she reached behind and pushed the fabric of her panties to the side, exposing her pink labia and lowering her ass on the woman's face.

"Mmm… yesss," Narcissa hummed in approval as Pansy reached up and grabbed her ass cheeks before gently pushing her tongue out and giving her swollen cunt a slow, long lick. "Keep doing that, girl. Oh just like that."

The blonde smirked with a wink toward her lord as she lowered her front over Pansy's body and parted her legs wide, displaying the lewd sight of the matching red lace fabric pushing inside the brunette's soft folds. Harry had the direct view of her delicious cameltoe through her panties and he watched as his lovely blonde grabbed the waistband of the red lace panties. With one swift pull, she dragged the sheer fabric over her ass and exposed her dripping pink slit, keeping the panties hanging around her knees.

"She looks ready for you already, my lord," Narcissa whispered with a sultry smirk.

"Prepare her more for me, Cissa," Harry replied. "If she cums within a minute of me fucking her, I'll give you what you've been asking for since our second night."

Narcissa's eyes lit up as she stared at him.

"You promise?" She asked eagerly.

"You have my word, yes," Harry chuckled.

"Well then," she grinned. "I better get to work."

"You should," he nodded and watched on as the blonde leaned down and planted her mouth on Pansy's mound.

Pansy jerked for only a second but she immediately resumed licking Narcissa out, and the blonde returned the favor eagerly. Both women slid their tongues up the other's wet lips while Harry watched on with increasing arousal. Narcissa was staring up at him through her eyelashes as she ate Pansy out and she winked in appreciation when he took off all his clothes and grabbed his length, stroking it gently. Her eyes remained trained on his manhood and her toes curled at the thought of having that impressive rod inside her.

She could feel Pansy's lower lips getting tauter as she ate her out and she quickly realized the brunette was close to cumming. With a soft gasp, she pulled back and grinned.

"My lord, I believe she's ready to handle your huge cock."

Pansy was hard at work, even though she could feel herself getting hotter by the second. The feeling of another woman's mouth working her up while she ate her out was otherworldly, but when she considered the fact that the woman was none other than the former Lady Malfoy, one of the biggest players in the pureblood circles and the mother of her ex-boyfriend, the feeling intensified even further.

However, nothing compared to the feeling of having her soft pussy lips parted by the magnificent cock of her lord and try as she might, she could not hold back the loud moan of pleasure against Narcissa's pussy as her lord buried his entire length inside her in one firm push.

His cock throbbed eagerly as Pansy's velvety folds gripped it. He pushed inside, burying himself to the hilt inside her as Narcissa watched from her spot atop the young woman.

"Look how well her pussy has welcomed your cock, my lord," the former Malfoy matriarch remarked lewdly. "She's spread open like the best whore you could ever find."

"My whore, Cissa," Harry replied as he pulled back and slammed inside her with a loud clap. "My fucking whore."

"Ahhh," Pansy cried out. "Ahh my lord… so big…" she murmured, parting her legs as much as she could with the elastic of her panties constricting her legs. Harry pushed her legs together and pulled her panties off, throwing them to the floor before he spread her legs further than they had been before and began to furiously fuck her.

"Oooohhh fffuuuccckkkk," Pansy cried out. "Ahh… ohh yess… ohh my lord… fuck yes… ahh…"

The brunette began thrusting her ass back against him with heightened urgency as her lord kept ramming inside her. She felt she was being fucked harder than ever before and she loved every fucking second of it. Her lord was an incredible lover and he was proving it to her once again.

She could already feel her climax approaching rapidly and she knew she would not last long. It did not help that Narcissa had taken to involve herself and was rolling her tongue around the hardened nub of her clit, making her toes curl as she mewled and moaned loudly.

"Aaahhh fuckkk my lorddd! Fuck mee! Ohhh yesss… aaahhh… shittt… I'm… ahh… I'm… ohh fuckkk!"

A loud cry escaped her lips as her pussy walls tightened around her lord's manhood, trying to keep it buried deep inside her. Her orgasm washed over her, intense and breathtaking, and all she could do was lay there, prone under Narcissa with her hands gripping the blonde woman's ass firmly as her lord fucked her through her orgasm.

Narcissa smiled triumphantly as she got off the brunette, watching as she was reduced to a shivering mess in the aftermath of her orgasm. Her lord pulled his massive cock out of her snatch and she immediately went to work. Dropping to her arms and knees, she hiked up her rear for his viewing pleasure and engulfed his cock in her mouth. Her tongue reached out, licking off all the orgasmic juices and getting it ready for herself.

Her lord reached over and gently ran his finger over her dripping slit. Pansy had done a fantastic job getting her ready and she could not wait to have him inside her. As she sucked him off, she felt him gather her orgasmic juices on his fingers and repeatedly rub it all over her rosebud. With a pop, she pulled his cock out of her mouth and looked up at him.

"Please, my lord," she said, biting her lower lip sexily.

"A promise is a promise," he replied and Narcissa grinned as he grabbed her and pulled her to her feet. His mouth attacked hers and she moaned at the feeling of his lips pushing inside. He was demanding and he did not want to wait. Her bra came off within seconds and she quickly stepped out of her panties as they slid down her legs and pooled by her feet. Naked as she always was whenever they fucked, she felt him pick her up bridal style and grinned.

"Move over, Pansy," he ordered and the woman hastily obliged. She rolled over and watched as Harry threw Narcissa on the bed. The woman bounced on the soft mattress, her tits flying about and colliding a few times as she came to a stop, and she immediately took position. Getting down on her knees, she laid her entire front on the bed and hiked her ass, presenting her puckered hole to him.

For a few seconds, Harry did nothing but take in the lovely sight of Cissa bent over with her heart-shaped ass hiked high in the air. Slowly, he reached forward and sank his fingers into her plump rear, squeezing her butt-cheeks firmly.

"Pansy, be a dear and get the lube we bought today," Narcissa instructed.

The brunette immediately complied and pulled it out of the drawer. Harry took the bottle from her and looked it over.

"Allow me, my lord," Pansy said, holding her palm out. Harry deposited a large amount of lube in the brunette's hand and watched as she took a quarter of it and lathered his entire cock. The rest went to the blonde's ass. In no time, they were ready for what Narcissa had been asking for so long – anal.

Pansy grabbed his cock and lined it up against Narcissa's asshole, pressing the head against it. Narcissa moaned at the contact and a sudden yelp escaped her lips as the head popped in. She let out a guttural moan as he slid further inside her ass, her eyes wide as she gripped the bedsheet firmly. She had never felt so stretched out before, and he was not even fully inside her.

The lube did its job perfectly and within seconds, Harry had his entire length buried inside Narcissa's ass. He stared at the sight for a moment, taking in the way her ass created an obscene 'O' around his manhood.

"My lord…" Pansy said in wonder. "Please fuck my ass soon as well."

Harry looked over at the brunette and chuckled as he pulled back and with a firm push, slammed fully inside Narcissa's ass once again.

"Fuckkkk!" The blonde cried out, her fingers scrunching the bedsheet and her toes curled. "Aaahhh… this feels so good, my lorddd!"

Once he was sure she had gotten used to the feeling, Harry began slamming inside her hard and fast, thrusting his manhood deep inside her quivering ass. He squeezed those plump cheeks and it was not long before Narcissa began to respond to his thrusts. She began to push against him, pressing her ass-cheeks against his hips, sending the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing around the room.

Pansy stared at the erotic sight in front of her. Narcissa had bitten on the bedsheet to muffle her moans and cries while her lord kept rutting inside her relentlessly. It was not lovemaking or simple fucking. It was animalistic, and she felt herself wanting to get involved. Getting up, she crawled on her knees and got behind her lord, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her large, firm tits against his back. As expected of him, he wasted no time and turned his face sideways, meeting her in a heated kiss while he fucked another woman in the ass.

Harry had never felt something gripping his cock so tightly. Narcissa's ass felt heavenly and he was glad he had decided to grant her wish. He knew she would love taking it in the ass as much as she could and he had no qualms about giving it to her. The feeling of Pansy's lovely tits pressing against his back further added to his arousal and it was intensified even more when she reached down and cupped his swinging ballsack.

Pansy grinned as she pulled back from the kiss. Her lips immediately planted on her lord's neck and she began sucking hotly. Her hands got busy themselves, one fondling his balls while the other reached further forward and began to push in and out of Narcissa's pussy.

"She loves it when you fuck her ass," she whispered in her lord's ear, relishing his heavy breathing. "She loves it when both her pussy and her ass are played with. I'm sure she'd love your cum in her ass," she continued, rolling her tongue around her lord's earlobe. He was still rutting furiously inside Narcissa's ass and she reached forward once again, burying her fingers inside the blonde's twat.

Narcissa's body was on fire from the rough pounding her lord was giving her in the ass and Pansy's ministrations had only sped up her orgasm.

"Yesss!" She cried out, finally taking her face off the bedsheet. "Fuck me! Ohh fuck me, my lord! Take me! Fuck me in all my holes! Oh fuckkk!"

The feeling of her ass being taken so roughly and for so long coupled with how ecstatic it felt to have both her pussy and her ass played with at the same time was enough to send her over the edge and a massive orgasm coursed through her.

Harry's hands firmly grabbed her bulbous ass-cheeks as the blonde writhed under him. She had one of the most curvy rears he had ever seen and the way her lovely ass was gripping him was something else entirely. He had been holding back ever since they had been blowing him off and try as he might, he failed to hold back.

The head of his cock expanded and with a groan, he shot a powerful load deep inside Narcissa's ass. Suddenly, Narcissa pulled off his cock and turned around. Harry stared with half-lidded eyes as Pansy joined the blonde on her knees in front of him and both women grabbed his cock. Rope after rope of his hot seed shot out of his cock and covered them in white. Their faces and upper chests were awash with his cum by the time he stopped cumming.

Harry watched them feast on his potent cum. Their marks glowed a bright golden once they were done.

Grinning, they looked up at him and Harry smirked when they took their positions on either side of the bed, leaving the middle free for him. He climbed in the bed and wrapped his arms around them as they draped their bodies over his.

"Thank you, my lord," Narcissa whispered, nuzzling the side of his neck.

Harry simply pulled them closer and stared at the ceiling in contentment.

TBC.

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Chapter Text

To be fair to Hermione, Harry had been a right bastard with the conditions he had imposed on her. No touching herself, refraining from release, and even leaving her arse bruised and swollen. Safe to say, Hermione had had a very troublesome week.

Ron and she had still not spoken since their spat. In fact, her husband had taken to ignoring her whenever they were together, which was not much considering he had been sleeping in the spare bedroom ever since then. Hermione found, to her obvious surprise, that she did not care. In her opinion, she had been in the right and she was not going to budge and accept defeat. He could apologize and they could resume talking, but if he did not want to do something as miniscule as accepting that he was in the wrong, then it was his problem. She was not going to lose sleep over his immaturity. She was done caring.

That was not to mention the emotional turmoil she had been in. Ever since that clandestine encounter with Harry, she had not been able to keep her treatment at his hands out of her mind. The way he had degraded and used her should have made her feel disgusted with him, but instead, she felt disgusted with herself for liking and even craving more of it.

"Do you need any help, ma'am?" A polite female voice behind her almost made her jump and she whirled around with wide eyes. The saleswoman held her hands up in apology. "I'm sorry for startling you."

Hermione took a deep breath and calmed her racing heartbeat, her hand resting on her chest.

"It's okay uh… Jennifer," she said, noticing the woman's name on her tag. "I'm uh… yeah, I guess I could use a little help."

The place she found herself in felt alien to her. She knew sexy garments were in the trend in the muggle world and were slowly making their way into the wizarding fashion as well. However, she had never thought about incorporating them into her wardrobe. As such, she was entirely new to this affair and could certainly use some professional help.

'And Harry wants the best,' she thought, a forbidden desire coursing through her. The last thing she wanted was to disappoint him.

"I'm sure I can help you out. What are you looking for?" Jennifer asked politely.

Hermione recalled what Harry had said the other night and paraphrased in the most non-explicit way she could.

"Some new dresses, undergarments included, that might look good on me," she said a bit awkwardly.

"Any special occasion you need it for or…?"

"You can say that. It's for… err…"

"Say no more," the saleswoman chuckled. "I understand. How does velvet sound? It's in the trend these days."

Hermione saw the woman hold up a dark blue velvet dress and she stared. It was strapless, with a string that would tie around the back of her neck, leaving her shoulders and entire upper chest bare. She could see it had a deep neckline and it would showcase ample cleavage. Her eyes trailed down and she saw a large slit near where her left thigh would be. It would show her bare thigh but would cover everything else perfectly. All in all, a classy yet sexy dress that she believed would not disappoint Harry.

"I love it," she whispered, having never worn something like that before. There were only two things she could say that might come close to this one – her dress at the Yule Ball back in her fourth year at Hogwarts, and her wedding dress.

"Nice," Jennifer smiled. "Would you like stockings with it?"

Hermione thought about it for a moment before she shook her head negatively.

"I'll take a few. Don't think I want them with this one."

"Okay. Now the only thing left is lingerie. If you'd follow me please," Jennifer gestured for her to follow.

Once they reached the section, she stared around at the sheer variety on display. She knew there were vast collections but to see it all first-hand… she couldn't imagine most of those to be for anything but visual appeal.

"Believe me when I tell you your husband's gonna feel so lucky to have you when he sees you in this," Jennifer grinned as she held up a matching dark blue set of bra and panties that looked so sheer Hermione thought she might as well wear nothing underneath. She took the panties from her and stared.

"I hope you're not uncomfortable with knickers that ride up your behind a little bit?"

Hermione merely shook her head mutely.

"Great. Your husband's gonna love these thongs."

Hermione did not bother to correct the woman.

'What will I even say? That this isn't for my husband but for our former best friend who's now become our biggest enemy and wants to destroy our peaceful life? The same friend who has made me his personal plaything?' She thought. 'I bet she'd think I'm some sick and twisted slut if I told her how much I liked it.'

"If you like the concept then I can sort out a collection for you," the woman suggested. "I'll make sure there's proper variety of colors, patterns, and designs for you."

"Please do," Hermione nodded, feeling a bit overwhelmed by it all. She could keep on reading book after book for hours without feeling even the slightest of strains but this little activity had tired her out within minutes. She truly was not made for this.

"I'll be right up with you in ten minutes. Until then, please feel free to browse our collections of dresses. Who knows? Maybe something will catch your eye."

"I'll do that," Hermione nodded.

It was fifteen minutes later when she walked out of the store with half the money Harry had given her and a bag full of three dresses, seven pairs of lingerie, and stockings to go with it all. She stepped into the alleyway and put the bag inside her bottomless bag before leaving.

She was on her way to the nearest tea shop when something caught her eye.

Hermione had no idea what made her do it but she found herself walking into the store and the sight that greeted her made her go still at the entrance.

She stood there for at least a minute before she realized what she was doing. Taking a deep breath, she walked forward and started looking for anything that might catch her eye.

As she reached the section with outfits, her heart fluttered. There was a large variety of costumes on display. She spotted the ones she had seen strippers wear in a few movies and immediately discarded them. However, the next one made her pause.

It was a French maid outfit that was obviously too small for even her, not to mention revealing. She knew her rear would barely be covered by that flimsy extension of fabric that the manufacturers must believe could pass for a skirt. She might not be too experienced but even she knew how much those maid outfits were popular among males. She picked it up and inspected it.

"Ah, the classic French maid outfit. Very popular," the salesman said with a grin. Hermione paid him no heed and kept staring.

"How much is it?" She asked. She could feel sweat sliding down her back as she realized she was truly going to buy such a slutty outfit for someone who was not her husband, and nothing was compelling her to do it. Instead, she was doing it on her own volition.

"120 quid," the salesman replied. "200 with the heels and the plug."

Hermione's eyes widened when she saw that the outfit came with a buttplug. She gingerly picked it up, staring at the engraving on it.

Master's Property.

A surge of thrill coursed through her womanhood and her breathing grew labored. The words felt oddly fitting.

She shook her head as she stared.

"The outfit ain't complete without the two. You can try it on in the back if you want," the salesman pointed out.

Hermione nodded and followed the salesman toward the back where she assumed the trial rooms must be located. The man held a door open for her and she entered, turning around as the door closed behind her. It was larger than the usual trial room but she did not pay it any mind and quickly went to work.

Her top and jeans came off in no time and she hung them up on the hooks, standing in only her plain white bra and panties as she stared at the slutty outfit. Her breathing intensified as she unzipped it and put it on. Zipping it back up was a bit challenging but she managed just fine. The stockings were a bit different from the usual ones and a lot tighter as well, but she firmly pulled them up in place.

It was a bit wobbly on the high heels but she tried her best to balance herself and once she was done, she stared at herself in the mirror with wide eyes.

She could not believe she was wearing something so slutty and it made her feel even hotter than before. She had been pent up for days and every night had been a challenge with Harry's thoughts, his touch, and the sensation of his manhood overwhelming her in her dreams. If only he'd not restricted her…

Her eyes fell on the only item left and she held it up. She gulped as she thought about what she was going to do.

Suddenly, the door to the room opened and she whirled around, her eyes wide in shock.

"I forgot to give you this. It comes complimentary with the outfit," the salesman said as he stepped inside the small room. He openly ogled her, staring at her cleavage and the exposed knickers under her flimsy skirt as he held up a small bottle of what Hermione recognized as lube.

She stood still, her mind hardly registering his audacity when he remarked casually, "I think it suits you. Put the plug inside and the outfit is complete."

He squirted the lube on the pointed end of the buttplug she'd been holding in front of her and Hermione jerked when he reached forward and touched her.

Suddenly, the salesman went limp and a wave of magical discharge coursed through Hermione, straight through her core and she winced. Her eyes widened even further when the salesman dropped to the floor, unmoving.

"What the fuck?" She whispered and quickly looked around. There was no one else in the shop and she quickly closed the door to the trial room before she squatted to check on the man. Her breath hitched when she felt no pulse.

"Oh no… Merlin no… what the hell was that!?" She whispered.

It did not take long for realization to dawn on her. She had not cast any spell and the magical surge she had felt right when the salesman went down was oddly familiar.

"Harry…" she whispered, firmly grasping the front of her maid outfit in a fist while holding the lubed buttplug in the other.

Fortunately, her senses returned shortly, and with wide eyes, she collected all her belongings. Once she was done, she twisted on the spot and apparated back to her apartment. It was a boon that Ron had moved into the other room and thus, she had complete privacy when she arrived. Wasting no time, she changed her attire and put the maid outfit and everything else that came with it inside her bottomless bag.

She dropped to the bed just as the adrenaline rush wore off and clamped her hand on her mouth.

"Harry…" a soft whimper left her lips as she stared ahead with teary eyes unblinking.

-Break-

"Fuck yes…" Harry grunted and lifted his hips just as Narcissa's mouth plunged even deeper onto his cock, feeding more of his length into her throat. His now-young lover was so full of enthusiasm and she loved to suck his cock so much. He watched how her eyes were set in mirth as she lapped away at his length with her tongue, and he gently swept her lustrous blonde hair back. He loved looking into those gray orbs full of adoration whenever she sucked him off.

Right between his legs was Pansy on her elbows as she rolled one of his balls in her mouth. The little slut always loved to show how eager she was to please her lord and Harry always found amusement in seeing that sight of utter adoration of the face of someone who used to loathe him so much. Her tongue licked over his balls as she sucked them and he gently caressed her tresses with his free hand, making her preen.

It was all too easy.

"Come here, Pansy," he ordered and his brunette slut eagerly obliged. She crawled over on her hands and knees toward his face and he gestured for her to take her position.

Grinning, she straddled his face and Harry reached upward, grabbing her thighs as he lowered her pussy right over his lips.

"Mmm… ohh my lord…" Pansy moaned as her lord's wonderful tongue slithered over her wet pussy. She gripped the headboard hard as she held herself upright on her lord's face who teased her folds with his tongue.

Narcissa glanced up and saw the girl riding their lord's face. She hummed around his length, smiling to herself when it lurched, and eagerly fucked her face over it. Her lord's cock slid deep into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat repeatedly, and she expertly controlled her gag reflex. All that got out was the occasional schluck as her lord's wet prick invaded her throat.

Harry kept his eyes closed as he maneuvered Pansy on top of his mouth. She was so wet for him and as he lapped away at her quim, he could not help but chuckle to himself. Here he was, with his cock lodged deep inside Malfoy's mother's mouth, although she barely looked like it, while his ex-girlfriend saw with her naked and wet pussy right on his face, both naked. He wondered what he would've looked like right now if he could see this sight, and he could not help but feel a sense of loss that the bastard had died. He would've given anything to have been able to see that look of impotent rage on the little shitstain's douche face.

He felt Narcissa pull her mouth off his length before he felt something even warmer engulf him. Unbidden, a groan escaped his mouth, sending a thrum of pleasure straight into Pansy's core, as Narcissa's hot and tight pussy clamped around his girth, hugging him passionately.

Narcissa let out a satisfied moan as she was filled with her lord's magnificent length once again. No matter how many times she stuffed his massive rod inside her, it felt like her first time. He stretched her out so brilliantly, filling her so completely, and every time, she felt his manhood was made for fucking her and all the woman he would one day have.

"Ahh my lord… so big… ohh… so big…" she moaned. "You feel so good in me… ahh I feel so full my lord… fuckk!"

Harry felt bad for letting her do all the work and in no time, he was aiding her as eagerly as she was fucking herself raw on his cock. He rocked his hips, thrusting upward, and Narcissa cried in pleasure as she felt her lord's cock slide harder and harder into her. She thrust her ass down on his cock with even more urgency, loving how her supple round rear jiggled as it slapped against him.

While Harry fucked Narcissa, he gently parted Pansy's folds and slid his tongue in. The brunette let out a loud moan and her thighs tightened slightly around his head as she felt her lord's tongue slither past her folds and into her pussy. She could feel it lap away at her juices and all she could do was gasp and moan filthily as her lord pleasured her.

"Ahh my lord… ohh you're so kind… fuck… it's my duty to… ahh… to pleasure you… but you… ohh fuck… you… OOOHHHH FUCCKKKK!"

Pansy cried out to the heavens as she felt the most miraculous sensation she had ever felt. Her lord's tongue that was pushing deep inside her suddenly started to rock back and forth, touching every sensitive nerve ending there was inside her pussy. It felt as if he was stimulating all the sensitive spots of her pussy at the same time as his tongue vibrated inside her womanhood.

Harry smirked to himself as he used Parseltongue to pleasure the brunette. He knew she'd love it. He wanted to make all of them cum at the same time, and this was the best way to ensure that.

Already, he could feel himself get closer to his climax and Narcissa's hot and tight wetness around his girth only intensified his arousal, bringing his orgasm closer and closer to him every second.

Narcissa leaned forward and cupped Pansy's large breasts, pulling on her puffy nipples. She saw the expression of sheer bliss on the girl's face and grinned as she leaned forward.

Pansy moaned as her lips met Narcissa's in a filthy kiss. They kissed like deviants possessed as Narcissa fondled the girl's tits. They were smaller than her but perkier, and her nipples were surprisingly larger for her proportions.

The blonde beauty pulled away from the kiss and cried out as suddenly, her lord began to furiously rut away inside her. He pounded her hard, repeatedly slamming inside her with more power.

"Fuck me… fuck me…" Narcissa chanted, over and over, as she held onto Pansy who was faring no better.

Harry reached around and gripped Narcissa's round arse-cheeks firmly as she slammed her wet pussy against him. The thought about pulling out and stuffing Pansy's little cunt with his manhood but for the life of him, he did not want to leave Cissa's tight pussy right now.

"Oh fuck… fuck… I'm… ohh… there… yess! I'm cumming!" Narcissa cried out as Harry gave a powerful thrust, slamming against her cervix. Her orgasm crashed through her, rocking her as she violently shuddered in Pansy's embrace who was shivering herself as her orgasm approached her.

"Yess… my lord yess… aahhhh!"

Harry grunted just as he felt Pansy convulse right on top of him. Narcissa's pussy was gripping him like a vice and he could not have stopped even if he tried. The head of his prick expanded inside Narcissa's orgasming pussy before a thick load of his seed slammed deep inside her. The blonde moaned in pleasure as she and Pansy held each other, both riding out their respective climaxes together as their lord came.

Minutes passed after Harry shot one final load deep inside Narcissa and they remained as they were. The two women kept their arms wrapped around each other, their faces flushed and resting against each other's shoulders as their tits remained mashed up. All the while, Harry remained still under them.

Slowly, they rolled off him and he glanced down at them with a smirk.

"Nice start to the day already," he remarked. Both Narcissa and Pansy grinned.

"The best," the former replied. "I should get started on our breakfast, my lord."

Harry nodded and watched as she climbed off the bed, paying particular attention to the way her large tits and her voluptuous rear bounced as she stepped forward. Naked, she paraded out of the room, swaying her arse seductively while glancing over her shoulder at him with an impish grin. That minx.

Hearing a small rustle, he spied Pansy on her elbows and knees, having reassumed her position between his legs. However, this time, she leaned forward and took his semi-flaccid and still-sensitive cock in her mouth. Harry released a soft breath as he felt his prick, slick with his and Narcissa's combined juices with the tip coated with his cum, being engulfed by her slutty mouth.

Pansy eagerly sucked her lord off, intent on cleaning it of all the fluids, irrespective of whose they were. She moaned as she tasted his familiar seed and glanced up to see him watching her with a smirk.

"My lord, I was thinking about something," the brunette said, her voice slightly muffled against his cock.

"No talking while feasting, Pansy," he gently chided.

Pansy nodded gently as she continued to clean his cock with her mouth. Her tongue eagerly lapped away at his length, licking off every bit of slick juice. Harry nodded in satisfaction when she finally pulled away.

"Go on. What were you thinking about?"

"When are you going to bring more women in, my lord?" She asked.

Harry stared at her with a raised eyebrow.

"I hope you're not looking to slack off, my dear Pansy," he said in a slightly warning tone.

Pansy's eyes widened and she shook her head vigorously.

"Never, my lord!" She proclaimed. "I'll never do something like that!"

"Good," Harry nodded. "Why're you asking?"

"It's just… I remembered someone who might be a very good fit. In fact, I feel you might get your most faithful if things work out."

"Is that so?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow, intrigued. "Who are you talking about?"

"The Greengrass sisters," she replied. "Daphne was in our year while her sister Astoria was one year below us."

Harry knew about the Greengrasses. The family that prided itself on being the neutral party. The family that refrained from taking sides. The family that always strove to stay out of any conflict. Some called them smart, others called them cowards.

When one looked at it from the outside, it did seem like a wise course of action. Alas, when it came to a madman, neutrality was impossible.

Since they were a part of the so-called Sacred whatever-the-fuck-the-number-was-now, Voldemort expected Greengrass to join his cause. The mad bastard had even sent his Death Eaters over several times to recruit the man. However, Cyrus Greengrass was an avid believer in neutrality and he always politely turned the Death Eaters away. The man did aid those pricks in a few places, as he did their side as well, all in a bid to remain neutral the best he could.

Unfortunately for the man, Voldemort grew impatient when pressure mounted on him. When the dark prick realized his Horcruxes were being hunted and Harry was spotted in Hogwarts, he ordered his Death Eaters to fetch every able witch or wizard they could find who had supported their cause for the final battle. Greengrass declined to provide his aid, and a battle ensued. Although they put in a valiant effort, both the man and his wife were murdered in their ancestral manor before it was demolished by the Death Eaters.

It was sheer fortune that the two Greengrass sisters had been at Hogwarts at the time and thus, were saved from being massacred with their parents.

"What about them?" Harry asked. "You're friends with them or something?"

"I won't call us exactly friends," Pansy said with a small frown. "Daphne and I never saw eye to eye. She hates blood purity and everything about pureblood supremacy, and I never really hid my prejudices."

Harry did not need to be a genius to understand why Daphne Greengrass would absolutely loathe Pansy as she had been back in the day and he had to admit he was intrigued by this. It was not common to find someone from the house of the snakes who disagreed with the notion of blood purity, let alone disgusted with the concept.

It was also quite a bit of progress for Pansy to acknowledge her shortcomings in this way and Harry had to commend her for that. He grabbed her hair in a fist and gently tugged. The brunette got the message and scooted upward, pressing herself against his left.

"Go on, Pansy. What about the Greengrass sisters?"

Pansy pressed herself close to her lord, smiling when he cupped her bum and squeezed faintly.

"Well, you know the present condition of the families who supported the wrong side in the war," she began. "The Greengrasses might have helped out the innocent people a few times but no one considers it to be worth anything. However, it is common knowledge now that they also supplied the Death Eaters with gold and other resources from their businesses."

"It is," Harry agreed.

"Yes, and so it didn't take long for their situation to worsen even more."

"You mean to tell me no one would hire the sisters because of their family's aid to Voldemort and they are also resorting to crime and such," Harry remarked.

"No, my lord," Pansy shook her head, making him glance at her. "Daphne would never stoop so low. She can't even stand pureblood supremacy, so resorting to crime doesn't even come into question."

"Then what?"

"She and her sister left the wizarding world, my lord," Pansy said, to his surprise.

"Really?"

"The Death Eaters destroyed their manor and everything they had in there, and the ministry confiscated their vaults. However, before the ministry did it, Daphne cleared out all their vaults, got it converted into muggle currency, and fled with her sister."

"Shrewd woman," Harry remarked. "Read the situation brilliantly and acted as quickly as she could. Consider me intrigued."

Pansy grinned.

"Well, they might have moved to the muggle world but their ties to the wizarding world still remain."

"Pansy," Harry deadpanned, making the brunette glance up at him. Her eyes widened and a squeal left her lips when her lord delivered a loud smack on her naked arse. "Stop with the dramatics and get to the point."

Pansy smiled sheepishly and continued, "They have enough money to last them for their entire life. Unfortunately, there is a problem with Astoria."

"She's a spoiled brat who loves to spend money like it's water?"

"No, my lord. Astoria has a blood curse."

Harry's eyes widened.

"The Greengrass family line was cursed centuries ago. No one knows what happened, who cursed them, or why. It manifested in Astoria, and she doesn't have long to live."

"I see," Harry muttered. He knew quite a bit about curses and their counters but he did not have much knowledge about blood curses. However, he also knew quite a bit about blood magic.

"Daphne loves her sister, my lord," Pansy continued. "Should you save her, Daphne will become your most faithful supporter. I have no doubts about that."

Harry remained silent as he pondered on the prospect. It was intriguing and he found himself seriously considering it. He did not know anything about Daphne or Astoria Greengrass apart from the fact that they existed. They had never interacted at Hogwarts, even though he had shared classes with Daphne for six years. He did remember Hermione mentioning her name once during their OWLs and that was it. However, from what he could recall, she had never been a part of Malfoy's posse, and that, in addition to what Pansy had told him about her beliefs moments ago, did certainly earn her a few brownie points in his book.

"Hmm… Interesting," he mused. "You happen to have any idea where they've gone in the muggle world?"

"Unfortunately no," Pansy said apologetically. "I do have a guess though."

Harry stared at her expectantly.

"Daphne and Astoria used to spend their summer holidays with their family in the French Riviera. That could be a place they've made their new home in."

"Really?" Harry mused thoughtfully. "Well, I do have an ICW conference in France in a few weeks. Guess I'll be extending my trip a little bit."

TBC.

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Chapter Text

Hermione occasionally glanced at her husband who sat on the couch in the living room of their apartment, acting as if everything was fine. He had his face buried in the latest edition of the Prophet, reading only Merlin knew what.

She could not believe his audacity. There was not even a hint of grimace on his face after what had become of their married life. It hurt, even though she should've expected something like this from him. Even discounting that, the fact that he knew he was knees deep in debt, and yet he neither did something about it nor thought he needed to discuss it with his wife was unbelievable to her.

She remembered how he had looked when that match had played out. Utter disbelief was etched on his face when the Cannons lost like they always did, and she had recognized the look of fear on his face. If only she knew back then what it meant…

Not for the first time, Hermione cursed Ronald Weasley for what her life had become now.

She had been frustrated since that evening. Her arousal had been troubling her every waking hour and she could not explain how much she wanted to relieve herself. Alas, she had been forbidden to do anything that might bring her any semblance of relief.

In addition to her arousal, the pain in her arse had still not abated. She had thought that it would go away after a day or two but even now, she could feel it throbbing. It felt as if he had spanked her mere minutes ago, and it did not take long for her to realize that he was employing the magic of her vow to keep the pain flaring constantly. She could not sit properly, and she had to constantly suffer under the agony whenever the fabric of her clothing touched her.

Harry and Ron had been the first two males she had come to know in the Wizarding World, and they had been her best friends for years. One had even gone on to become the man she had fallen in love with while the other was like a brother she never had. What a cruel turn of fate it was. Both men were now the ones she could muster no hint of love for. She held her husband in nothing but disdain, and all she felt for Harry was hatred.

She knew magic was influencing her behavior at times, but her nature was not to lose so easily. She felt submissive whenever she thought about Harry and the situation he had forced her into, and she felt rebellious whenever she realized who she was. It felt as if two personalities existed within her now, and Hermione was at her wit's end.

Her eyes darted to the cupboard in what was now her bedroom. She had kept everything she had bought in that cupboard, and she recalled what had happened in the adult store where she had bought that maid outfit. There was no doubt in her mind that it was Harry's magic that had acted back then to protect her from that man's unsolicited advances, and although the submissive servant part of her felt grateful, her logical side had seen it for what it was.

Harry would not let another man touch her so intimately, at least right now. The vow was to ensure she got no relief, and it had acted in the most violent of ways. Hermione would be lying if she said she wasn't scared.

He had changed, and not for the better, and not for the first time, Hermione wondered where things had gone so wrong. They had all been suffering during that Horcrux hunt, but she and Ron had been holding up the best they could. If only Harry hadn't snapped like that…

Even after all these years, Hermione would sometimes find herself hardly believing that Harry had truly uttered those vile words for the woman he was supposedly in love with. Ginny had been such a brave soul during those times, helping the resistance inside the castle in their absence. She had even risked her well-being and snuck in to steal Gryffindor's sword to aid their cause.

For Harry to throw all of it away and degrade Ginny the way he had done… was unforgivable. When Ginny told them what he was accusing her of, her first instinct was to march back and slap him once again. However, by then, Harry was long gone from their lives. Even then, Ginny had shown her maturity. She had pleaded with both her and Ron to not do anything and make life hard for anyone else. The war had just ended, and if Harry wanted to have nothing to do with them, they should leave him be.

Hermione's heart had ached for her that day, and she knew how much the poor woman had suffered in the years that followed. They had all seen how Harry had shown up to various events with one random woman after another, and it did not take long for them to realize just how much their former best friend had changed. While once he used to covet privacy, he had become much more outgoing and, dare she say, reaching. The way he had used his fame to climb the ranks in the ministry had been obvious to anyone with a brain, but his name was too powerful for anyone to speak out.

She knew how tough it had been for Ginny to move on from Harry, and even now, the poor girl's love life was stuck in limbo. While several girls her age or even younger than her had gotten married already, Ginny was still on her own with no one to go home to. It was sad, and it made her hate Harry even more for the hell he had turned Ginny's life into.

And now, he had come for her and Ron. She did admit that Ron had been in the wrong and he should have controlled himself before he overreached, but Harry had skillfully manipulated the entire situation to suit his nefarious ends. He had truly shown his Slytherin side, and he was taking full advantage of the situation.

The reminder of her humiliation flared once again and Hermione winced. What a mess she had been reduced to, and she knew it was only the beginning. The submissive servant acted up randomly, and she knew it would be a challenge to preserve both her true self and her sanity. Unfortunately for Harry who wanted to break her into his personal plaything, he would not find it as easy as he would like.

He might have control over her body and he might also be able to coax out the answers he wanted to hear from her, but he would never conquer her true self. She was a righteous woman with ideals, and he would never make her fully submit herself to him.

She knew she only had to endure it until the vow remained in place. The submissive servant inside her would exist only until the vow was active. Once her debt was repaid in full, her true self would reign supreme. That would be when she would prove to Harry that no matter whatever humiliation he put her through, she still held true to her convictions. That would be her true victory.

"Why are you glaring like that?"

Hermione blinked and glanced over to where her husband was staring at her with his lips pursed.

"If you hate me so much then just say it. No need to drill holes through my head like that," he remarked disdainfully.

Hermione felt her irritation rise at the mere voice of her husband.

"You need to realize the world doesn't revolve around you. Stop thinking you're so damn important," she retorted through clenched teeth. Her arse was acting up again, and so was her arousal. Not for the first time, she cursed Harry in her mind.

"What the hell is wrong with you lately, Hermione!?" Ron cried out as he stood up, glaring. "What exactly did I do to deserve such a shitty behavior?"

"You seriously need me to tell you!?" She cried out disbelievingly.

"Well, yeah! Cause I got no fucking clue!"

Hermione breathed heavily as she glared at Ron who stood there with his arms spread out in disbelief.

"You know what?" She spat through gritted teeth. "If you don't even realize why I'm being like this, you don't deserve any explanation. Keep living like that, and I hope you do realize someday what bullshit you pulled to make me live like this!"

Ron stared at her for a long moment, exasperation mixed with annoyance etched on his face.

"Fine. Do as you will, I don't even care anymore," he hissed.

Hermione watched him stride toward his bedroom, scoffing when he slammed the door behind him violently. She was gripping the kitchen counter harshly as she gritted her teeth in frustration.

Suddenly, an envelope materialized out of nowhere in front of her and she blinked as it fell to the floor with a small spark. Looking around, she saw no hint of an owl or anything else that might have delivered it.

Curious, she bent over, wincing as her stinging arse rubbed against the fabric of her clothes once again, and picked it up.

There was no address but her eyes widened when she pulled the letter out and read it. The envelope and the letter both burnt to a crisp right after she finished reading and multiple sensations assaulted Hermione.

Disdain. Revulsion. Arousal. Excitement. Shame.

The letter contained only seven words.

Today at six. Same place. Dress properly.

-Break-

Her husband was still in his room when Hermione walked over to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. She leaned against it, her eyes staring at the plain white ceiling and her hands clenched in a fist. Now and then, she would glance over at the cupboard where the proof of her depraved thoughts lay. That accursed maid outfit.

She didn't know just how she had let that submissive servant take control of herself like that. Her logical self would've never even thought of taking such a disgusting initiative, but she had gone ahead and done it.

Since she had come back home and had had the time to calm down after the events that had transpired in that store, she had thought of setting that offending costume on fire. Alas, her hands faltered whenever she got down to carrying it out.

Hermione felt powerless in front of that servant's desires, and she found she didn't like it one bit. Nor did she like how eager that submissive servant seemed to be whenever the thought of her master came to mind.

She violently shook her head. He was not her master. He had once been her friend but now, he was nothing more than her enemy. She had only one relationship with him, and that was as a debtor. She would discharge her liabilities and hopefully, she would never have to see him ever again.

Sighing, she stepped off the door and walked over to the cupboard. Pulling it open, she grimaced at the sight of that maid costume and forcefully shoved it as far away as she could, ensuring it was not in her line of sight. She took in the rest of the bags that occupied the entire shelf and with pursed lips, she pulled one out and emptied its contents on the bed.

It was the same blue outfit with matching lingerie she had bought, and Hermione held it up, inspecting it. Mere seconds later, she went to work. Her top and jeans came off, eliciting a wince as the latter rubbed against her stinging arse. She dropped them on the floor and in no time, her plain white bra and knickers joined them, leaving her naked.

Hermione looked herself over in the mirror. She showed the signs of strain she was under, with bags under her eyes and her face set into a permanent grimace. As she turned around, her grimace got more pronounced at the sorry sight of her arse. It was red and it stung.

She reached out and slowly pulled up her new lace knickers, sighing in relief when the fabric embedded itself between her arse cheeks, sparing her another sting. Her new lace bra was next, and Hermione marveled at how soft the fabric felt against her skin. She had never worn something like this before, and now she wondered just why she had refrained for so long. The bra pushed her tits against each other, forming a tantalizing cleavage that Hermione liked very much. The first hint of a smile formed on her face as she took in the sight of her scantily clad body in the mirror.

Her dress was next, and Hermione slowly put it on, smoothing down the creases once she latched it in place. She gazed at herself and an approving smile crossed her face. Fuck Harry Potter. She looked nice, and she had every right to be happy about it!

With a flick of her wand, she applied the barest hint of make-up and fixed her hair. Her bushy mane had long given way to long and lustrous brown tresses, and although she did not go overboard, she did ensure her hair looked good.

Once she was sure nothing was missing, she put on the heels the shop attendant had picked out for her. They were thankfully not too high and she could walk around with relative ease.

With a satisfied nod, Hermione put her things back in the cupboard and locked it before she twisted on the spot and apparated away, leaving an empty apartment with no one but her husband who stayed sulking in the other bedroom.

Mere seconds later, she appeared in the middle of the road in front of #4 Privet Drive and looked around. As expected, the entire neighborhood was devoid of any life and it made for a very spooky environment. Paying little heed to her surroundings, she walked toward the house where she was supposed to meet her appointment and found the door open for her.

She walked inside, shutting the door behind her before she made her way to where she knew the living room was. As she turned into the room, she breathed softly at the sight of him as she entered. Stepping forward, she came to a stop in the middle of the room where he sat on the couch, leaning back and looking very comfortable.

There was nothing but pin-drop silence as Harry looked the woman up and down. She merely stood in the middle, her posture ramrod straight, and her brown orbs focused on him. Her lips were slightly curled in a sneer and Harry scoffed to himself.

For over a minute, he did nothing but take her in.

"Relax your body. You're too stiff. It's off-putting," he ordered, and the effect was immediate. The vow made her obey and her posture relaxed.

Harry felt the vow working and crossed his hands behind his head, leaning back. She was one stubborn woman, alright. His positive reinforcement might have created a submissive personality inside her but he could not expect her entire personality to do a complete 180 in only one session. He needed to do more.

However, he was in no hurry. It wasn't as if she was getting freedom anytime soon, and he had plenty of time to create the perfect specimen out of her. A specimen he had already discovered was hidden deep inside her. After all, if it didn't, she wouldn't have become the submissive slut who had eagerly taken all those spankings the other day.

"Turn around and bend over so that your dress rises up your arse," Harry ordered, and although she gritted her teeth, she obliged. Turning around, she bent over and her dress automatically hiked up. Harry gazed at the display in approval.

"Nice choice of thongs, I like them," he commented, smirking when he saw her fidget slightly. "And I can see you did as you were told. Good work."

Hermione gasped when she felt him reach forward and place his freezing cold hands on her bare arse cheeks. A sense of immense relief coursed through her at his healing touch. The stinging sensation she had been suffering ever since their previous encounter disappeared in an instant, leaving behind nothing but sheer cold and the intense heat of his dominant touch.

She felt him caressing and fondling her arse and as much as she abhorred it, she let him do as he pleased. According to the vow, he had all the right to do with her as he pleased. Not for the first time, Hermione wondered just what it would take for her debt to be settled as per this vow she had sworn to him.

"You should start exercising, you know?" He casually remarked as he kept fondling her arse. "You do have a bangable arse, but I bet it can be better. Your tits too. Put a few shifts in and you'd turn heads."

"I'm happily married. I don't need to turn any heads," Hermione replied with barely hidden scorn before she belatedly added a "Master."

"I offered a free advice. It's up to you to take it or bin it," Harry shrugged, ignoring the slight lapse as he canceled the freezing spell, smirking when she audibly breathed out as the coldness disappeared.

He caressed her arse for a little while, enjoying the way she squirmed as she stayed bent over in front of him. Her blue lace thongs were buried in her crack and he had the full expanse of her creamy cheeks to fondle.

"Take one step back," he instructed calmly and Hermione obeyed. With more reach now, Harry pushed his hands forward and palmed her inner thighs, caressing her skin. His fingers brushed over the edges of her skimpy thong and he enjoyed her gasps every time he pressed forward.

He knew how starved for release she must be, and he enjoyed this power he held over her.

"I gave you four orders the last time we were here," Harry said, caressing her sensitive skin as Hermione squirmed. "How many did you finish?"

"I didn't relieve myself or do anything for my butt," she whispered, and there was no way he could have missed how aroused she was. "I bought clothes from the money you gave me."

"I can see that," he muttered. "Go on. What about the final one? Thought of a name?"

Hermione shuddered, her toes curling, when he pushed his fingers through the edges of her thongs and touched her outer folds. She knew she was gushing, and there was no way she could have controlled it. She had been deprived of any relief for so long already!

"N-no, M-master," she whispered.

"No?" Harry's fingers paused right over her folds as he stared at her protruding arse with furrowed brows. "I hope you have a good explanation for it. Tell me."

Hermione shuddered.

"I am a Weasley now, Master," she replied. "Hermione Weasley. That's my identity."

Harry scoffed as he pulled his hands off her.

"If that's what you want me to keep calling you, then I'm all for it, Mrs. Weasley," he sneered. "You can keep getting reminded of who you are."

Hermione stayed silent.

"Let's get started on today's assignment, Mrs. Weasley," Harry commanded. "You are to act like the perfect escort. You will be at your best behavior and you will take initiative. I want to see how creative that brain of yours can be."

Hermione closed her eyes and nodded, and not for the first time, she let that submissive servant take the place of prominence in her psyche.

Without standing up, she turned around, coming face to face with him. Harry reached up and ran a thumb across her lips.

"These move too much when you're in lecture mode. I'd like to see what else they are capable of," he remarked.

A jolt coursed through Hermione as she realized what he was asking of her, and the full meaning of his demand dawned on her. He wanted her to be an escort, which meant she was at his mercy to do with as he pleased. Apprehension coursed through her as she realized just what he might do to her now.

However, the submissive inside her was eager for her treatment to begin, and she was the one in charge of her now. As he had said, she took the initiative.

Harry's smirk widened when she spread her lips and took his fingers in her mouth. He felt her tongue rolling around his digits as she started to suck on them, much like an escort would suck a cock, taking it as deep as she could.

Hermione felt a rush course through her as she took in the expression on his face and she longed to take his cock into her mouth instead.

Harry's cock stirred under Hermione's ministrations and he wondered just how far he should take this today. He knew a slut lived inside her, and all he needed to do was coax her out of her shell. He knew the kind – comprising of those who acted all high and mighty but were nothing more than closet deviants. He could tell how quickly she was improving just by the way she was sucking his fingers right now.

'She always was a fast learner,' he thought in amusement and pulled his fingers out of her mouth.

"Good work," he praised, smirking when her eyes lit up slightly. She was starved for positive affirmation, it seemed. He should have expected it considering the only man she'd ever had was Ronald and it was common knowledge what a dumbfuck he truly was.

Hermione licked her lips as she straightened up, and Harry gazed at her lustfully. Although she was not as sexy as Cissa or Pansy, Hermione had a lot going for her. The dress and her choice of lingerie only enhanced her sex appeal.

Meanwhile, the brunette felt her nipples getting hard under his intense gaze. Her arousal was constantly spiking, and coupled with the fact that she had been deprived of a release for so long, she was close to snapping. The thought that she was eagerly awaiting for him to escalate the matter didn't ever register with the brunette.

Suddenly, she recalled she had to play the role of an escort and take the initiative. As she gazed at him, she found him sitting in perfect contentment and she saw it for what it was. She needed him, and she needed to play her role.

She stepped forward and climbed into his lap, straddling him while facing him. Her hands reached up to wrap around his neck and without any hesitation whatsoever, she pressed her lips against his. Her body was on autopilot, and she parted her mouth eagerly, allowing his tongue to slide inside.

This was the first time someone other than her husband was kissing her, and the thought filled her with both shame and arousal. The latter took prominence and she pressed herself firmly against him.

Harry's hands explored her back over the dress she had on before they dipped lower to grab her by the ass. He lifted her slightly and positioned her properly so that her inflamed pussy rested right on top of his hardened member. Once he was done, he slid his hands upward and grasped her tits.

Hermione let out a faint moan into the kiss when she felt him cup her breasts and she met his tongue with hers as he fondled them. Her wet, inflamed pussy ground against his crotch as they kissed heatedly.

Harry was slightly surprised to see how truly eager she was as they kissed. There was raw passion in her actions and he could truly smell her arousal. Even though it was a result of her being pent-up for so long, it thrilled him. His large hands entirely engulfed her tits and he mauled them over her sexy dress. Her body writhed even more under his domineering touch.

It was a testament to how aroused and sex-starved she was as she automatically lifted her arms high in the air when he grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled up. He took her dress off in seconds and leaned back.

"Get off and stand," he ordered, and the brunette immediately obliged. She stood right in front of him, clad in nothing but a flimsy pair of lacy blue bra and thong.

"Take off those heels."

The heels came off and she threw them to the side, her breathing labored as she gazed at him with half-lidded eyes.

"Take off your bra."

Hermione reached behind her and unfastened her bra, pulling it off herself and tossing it to the side. She stood in front of him, wearing nothing but a flimsy thong that might as well not be there. It hid barely anything, after all.

Harry reached out and felt up her tits, lifting them and running his thumbs over her pink, puffy areola. He smirked when her breath hitched and a red flush covered her chest.

'She's truly into this. What a slut. I knew it!'

Hermione's breathing was labored and her eyes were trained on the massive bulge in his trousers. She wanted nothing more than to slam herself down on his huge prick but she knew that was not what he had ordered her to do. He wanted her to be an escort, and that meant following the proper steps.

Without any hesitation whatsoever, she dropped to her knees right in front of him and reached out, unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers. Harry smirked and raised himself for her to pull his trousers and boxers down.

Hermione's mouth watered at the sight of his massive prick as it lurched out of its confines. She reached out and started to gently stroke it, wondering if she could make it even harder. Her small hand didn't cover even half of the surface as she stroked him with a look of pure lust and desire on her face. That was the face of a true submissive servant, and Harry gazed at her in satisfaction.

Hermione was not done though, and she wrapped her other hand around his length. She started stroking his hot, pulsing cock with both hands and saw the precum leaking out of the tip. Without any hesitation, she leaned forward and flicked her tongue, licking it off. She saw how his cock lurched at that, and she leaned forward, running her tongue around the crown of his cock, caressing it, and covering it entirely in her saliva.

She eagerly explored the sensitive surface of his cock, committing the shape and texture to memory, while she kept licking off the precum. Her mouth opened as she swirled her tongue around the head while wrapping her lips around his shaft, lodging the head of his cock inside her mouth.

Glancing up through her hooded eyes, she saw him staring at her with a smirk and it further intensified her arousal. She knew how wrong this was, but her lust and her desire were too powerful for any reason to hold. She pressed forward, plunging her mouth onto his cock and taking it deeper inside her mouth.

One hand kept stroking his cock while the other reached down and grasped his massive balls. Her fingernails scraped the surface of the sack as she kept jerking him off, all the while plunging her mouth deeper and deeper onto his prick.

It was apparent to Harry that she was no pro, but in her lust and desire, she was enthusiastic. He placed a hand on her head, guiding her mouth on his cock, while the other firmly grasped the surface of the couch.

Hermione eagerly sucked him off as she stroked his cock. She could feel how heavy his balls were and knew they must be full of cum for her. The desire to make him cum was prominent, but even greater was her wish to taste him.

She had never tasted cum. She had never wanted to. However, with Harry, she found she wanted to do things she never would've thought of previously. Her pussy tingled at the thought of him shooting his load deep into her tight throat and she intensified her ministrations.

Harry realized what she was truly after and he saw no reason to not give her what she wanted. He fisted her hair firmly and began to slam upward, pushing his cock deeper inside her mouth. He relished her moans and groans, and the lewd wet sounds of her slurping and choking, as he kept shoving his hard prick upward, fucking her mouth raw.

Hermione had never felt such sensations before. She felt used and degraded, just like she had the previous time she had been here, but there was one major difference. Today, she was eagerly chasing that feeling. She wanted him to use her, to make her his plaything, and to do with her as she pleased. Her true, logical self had fled long ago, leaving behind the submissive servant who wanted to eagerly please her master and bask in his praise. A submissive servant who lived only to serve.

And the servant preened in elation when she felt the first shot of his seed strike the back of her throat. She devoted herself to the task, eagerly milking him for as much as she could, and gulped down everything he gave her.

Harry stared at her, his breathing heavier than before, as she swirled her tongue around the head and licked off the remaining cum, before she gulped the final load audibly. Her eyes still had that lustful look to them as she gazed up at him, and Harry smirked.

He knew she hated him, but she also wanted to please him. This dual personality he saw within her fascinated him in untold ways.

Hermione Weasley was a woman of convictions, but he had discovered the slut that lived under that veneer of propriety. He knew what he wanted to do to her. He would extract that slut out of her and turn her into what she deserved to be. His personal plaything.

TBC.

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Chapter Text

Hermione eagerly gulped down the entirety of his cum, staying on her knees in front of him. Her lustful eyes stared at him as he sat on the couch, leaned back and comfortable.

"How did I do? Master?" She asked in a whisper.

Harry watched her with a smirk.

"Tell me, Mrs. Weasley, what did I order you?"

"To act like an escort, Master," she replied obediently.

"Mm-hmm," he nodded. "Let me tell you what you did wrong there."

A foreboding feeling washed over Hermione and wide-eyed, she listened. She could not believe she had truly screwed up. She believed she had given it all she had, even doing things she had never done before, or things she would've never even thought of doing, even with her husband.

"An escort will always suck a cock with the protective charm on. That's one," he said, and one finger went up.

"And second, I've never been with an escort who would not only let a man cum in her mouth, but actually swallow it all," he continued, and another finger went up. "That's all."

"I'm sorry for disappointing you, master," she whispered in subservience, her eyes downcast. Harry merely smirked.

"Stand up," he instructed. The brunette immediately obliged and stood, clad in nothing but her lacy thong and see-through stockings. Harry gave her another once-over, letting his eyes travel over the entire expanse of naked ivory skin.

"You really don't know too much about escorts, do you?" He asked. She shook her head, looking suitably ashamed. Harry scoffed to himself. "Let me educate you then. Escorts, prostitutes, whores, hookers, no matter whatever you call them, all have one thing in common. They'll get naked and let a guy stick his cock into them, for a favor, of course. Generally, it's money. Now, I must tell you that I'm by no means demeaning them or looking down on their profession. It's one of the oldest in existence, after all."

Hermione nodded, listening attentively, and she preened when he smiled approvingly at her for her focus.

"Now, all escorts or whores are sexy and hot, and every damned time, it comes down to the aesthetics," he continued. "They don't do any parlor tricks. They don't have any tactics or maneuvers like Quidditch players. They get naked, they are hot, and they give a guy a jolly good time. That is all. And looking at you, I can say you've got most of it nailed down quite well."

A surge of pleasure coursed through Hermione's entire being at his honest admission and Harry smirked when he saw her stand a bit taller than before. She was one prideful woman but he believed she had never been complimented for her womanly features before. A little nudge here and there and he already had her dancing on the palm of his hand.

"Tell me what you think about what I said, Mrs. Weasley."

Hermione looked thoughtful as she stood there, almost naked. Harry saw her chewing on her lower lip as she wondered what to say.

"This is all very new to me," she replied softly. "I was never much into girly stuff so I never paid much attention to make-up or sexy attire. I'd only ever been with my husband and our sex life was very much basic. We never experimented like I've heard from a few women and it was always with me on my back and him on top. As I said, very basic. All this stuff about escorts… it's honestly intimidating."

"You lack experience, Mrs. Weasley," Harry replied. "You need to go out there and gain some memorable life experience, and dare I say, you are already on the clock. You got married early, missing out on a whole lot of what the world has to offer. What you need is to let a few men experience you. I dare say you'd regret it for the rest of your life if you don't."

A surge of conflict rose within Hermione as she realized what he was telling her. Wide-eyed, she stared at him askance, breathing shallowly when he nodded curtly.

"Now you see the opportunity you have in front of you?" He declared, smirking. "You are not in control. I am. As your Master, I can get you to do whatever I want you to do, and you will do it without question and to the best of your ability. Your inhibitions have taken a backseat in this arrangement. What I'm basically saying is that you have no choice here, Mrs. Weasley. So you can either use this opportunity to get some nice experience with someone you are not married to and enjoy it like it's meant to be, or you can let your silly morality torture you for what you have done already with me, and what you will be doing in the future as long as this vow remains in place."

Hermione could only stare at him in shock, apprehension, revulsion, excitement, and arousal. Feelings known and foreign to her collided within her psyche, the moral true self in a vicious conflict with the submissive her Master had coaxed out of her shell.

She could seriously not believe she was even contemplating using this disgusting arrangement in any manner and considering it an opportunity to both gain experience and pleasure and yet this bitch that he had unearthed from deep within her could not help but feel excited about it.

She felt defeated in her lack of choice in the matter, and she realized there truly was nothing she could do to deny whatever depraved demand he would have of her. She could clearly hear that disgusting bitch inside her shouting for her to give in, asking her moral self why not enjoy it if it was happening anyway.

Her mind was divided into two, each side standing on opposites and she truly felt at a loss for what to do or how to feel.

Unbeknownst to her, the magic of the vow was hard at work, and she could feel whatever was left of her inhibitions slowly slipping away. The screams of her conscience were slowly dissipating into nothingness and all she could hear in her mind was the excited laughter of the depraved submissive who wanted to both please her Master and take this opportunity by the horns to have some fun.

For too long had this side of her remained submerged under the surface, forced to remain in slumber as the goody-two-shoes reigned supreme for years. Her master had freed her from those bindings, bestowing upon her this magnificent vow to curb that straight-laced girl's power and allow her to emerge. Now that she had, she was here to stay.

She had only one life, and she deserved to enjoy it to the fullest.

Harry felt his magic responding to the vow and he could hear everything taking place in the woman's mind. He smirked triumphantly as he gazed at her visage.

'I know you, Hermione. We might not be friends anymore, but I know your deepest, darkest desires. I've seen it over the years. You got so irritated at Ron's dismissal of your beauty in our fourth year. You put so much effort in yourself for the Yule Ball. You showed not even the slightest of restraints when you eagerly made out with Krum—a guy older than you and from another school. He must've felt like a forbidden fruit to you back then, and you had let loose. I remember how you even bragged to Ron about it when you two fought. Not to mention when you pulled all those jealous stunts in our sixth year. And how you fucked that dumbass in a tent you shared with me, definitely knowing I could hear it all. You must've gotten some sort of thrill in teasing me like that, both you and your husband. You have always had desires, and while most of them are what any woman has, you do have that depraved side to you that you have kept hidden so brilliantly over the years. Unfortunately for that stuck-up bint that you are, I prefer that side of yours over the usual one.'

"Allow me to elaborate further, Mrs. Weasley," Harry grinned ferally, sensing his prey almost in the trap. "If I want to fuck you, you will offer yourself up without a moment's hesitation. If I want anal, you will be on your hands and knees, offering yourself up. If I want you and another woman at the same time, you will make out with her like the lustiest lesbian out there. If I want to share you with another guy, you will rush over and start undressing him without any hesitation. You will be uncomfortable, but I want that discomfort to vanish entirely. I want to see nothing but contentment, commitment, arousal, and initiative from you. I want you to expand your horizons, to not be limited by your silly conscience, and to leave whoever you are with wanting more of that experience you'd give them. Obviously I can just get the magic of the vow to force you to do everything I just mentioned but I'm sure you'd find it more satisfying if you consciously put your all into it and enjoyed it as much as I know you'd want to."

His prey was almost in the trap, and it did not take long for it to fall into his clutches. The new Hermione stood up and swung her leg over his lap, exposing her thong-clad pussy to his naked gaze as she straddled him. Grinding her crotch on his hardening member, she gazed into his emerald orbs and purred, "Oh Master, you really know how to convince a woman. Thank you so much for making me realize what an opportunity I have now."

She took his hands and guided them to her bare arse, grinning at his smirk. She could feel him getting hard against the wet fabric of her lacy thongs and she made him knead her arse cheeks, leaning forward and pressing her tits against his chest.

"I've been such an idiot until now, Master," she whispered hotly in his ear, rubbing her tits against his chest. "I thought this was my punishment, that you hated me so much. But you never hated me, right? This was all to save me, to make me realize what I truly desired. You've always been my best friend, haven't you, Master?"

Harry wanted to snort out loud and say 'Nah, you silly bitch,' but he didn't feel the need to. He merely enjoyed squeezing and caressing her naked arse as she ground herself on his manhood that had reached its full mast.

"You care for me so much, Master," she moaned throatily, feeling his erection pressing hard against her pussy lips. "You used your magic to kill that salesman when he tried something with me. You protected me when I needed you. And now you have given me the opportunity to get what I didn't even know I wanted."

Harry wanted to laugh at the mad ramblings of this bint but he resisted. Fuck it if she wanted to believe all the bullshit she was sprouting. He couldn't care less as long as he got what he wanted.

He also could not help but wonder if all the brilliant witches had some kind of madness lurking beneath the surface inside them. After all, Bellatrix was one hell of a witch, and everyone knew how mad she was. Hermione was very smart and a quick learner, and it seemed her madness took the form of depravity. Both witches were so out of reality once they came out of their respective shells, and although he did not have much to see when it came to Bellatrix, he sure felt curious about Hermione's mind. He was very much looking forward to what the future had in store for her.

"You've been pent up for so long, haven't you?" He smirked, nibbling on her earlobe. She began grinding her clothed pussy hard along his length, almost as if she was chasing a release without even taking him inside her. Harry was not so generous though and grabbing her arse firmly in his grasp, he held her stationary on his cock.

"Master," she whined, further surprising him. Hermione never whined, and he leaned back to observe her properly. Her eyes were hooded and there was nothing but primal lust in there. Employing the magic of the vow, he peered into her mind and realization dawned on him.

"So you have indeed made a choice, huh?" He chuckled, holding her in place when she made to grind her pussy on his cock once again. She gazed at him with a whiny look on her face.

"Master," she purred. "You have me almost naked in your lap. How can you resist lifting me up, pushing my thong to the side, and pushing that massive rod deep inside my cunt? How can you have so much self-control that you can resist this? Am I not hot and sexy enough like those other escorts you enjoy?"

Harry's amusement grew as he gazed at her disappointed face. She was talking dirty now, and he had to be honest. She had devolved much faster than he had expected her to.

'But then, she always was a fast learner,' he thought, grinning.

"Tell me the truth, Mrs. Weasley. You're so horny from not getting a release for so long that you want me to do anything to get you off. Am I right?"

"Yes, Master," she whispered, eyes downcast like a docile pet.

"And what was it that you said the other day? How'd you like to get off?"

She looked up and grinned, "I said I'd like to do it with your thing, Master."

"It's a cock, Mrs. Weasley. Call it what it is."

"I'd like to do it with your cock, Master," she purred.

"That's the spirit," Harry smirked. "But I feel you need to do more to earn it. After all, it's not a small thing you're asking of me here. You want a man who's not your husband to shove his cock inside you and make you cum. Surely you can see how it's a big deal? Come on, do something to earn it."

"What do you want me to do, Master?" She whispered hotly, rubbing her tits on his chest. "I will work on improving my body so that I can be more appealing to you. I promise."

"Noted. But that won't cut it, Mrs. Weasley," he replied curtly.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed her body firmly against him. Leaning forward, she ran her tongue all around his ear and started nibbling on his earlobe.

"I can do what you mentioned back then," she whispered. "I've never had anything in my ass before. I can give you that virginity, Master. Or I can strip off my thong and crawl around the room for you. Prove to you that I am your dirty escort and you are my Master. Would you like that, Master?"

"I'd like you to start by apologizing for betraying me during the Horcrux hunt," Harry hissed, clenching her arse cheeks in a vice grip.

Hermione shuddered as she pulled back.

"I apologize, Master," she whispered. "I betrayed you when you needed all the help. All because I didn't trust you to get it done. I am so sorry, Master. I was so afraid that we'd die without doing anything. And then you said all those things about Gin—"

"That's enough," Harry grunted. "You don't mean it at all, do you? You depraved slut, I know how much you pride yourself on being right, but just for some cock, you agreed to apologize, almost acting as if you truly felt sorry. All you want is to get fucked, don't you?"

Hermione hissed as he spanked her roughly on her arse with the paddle he conjured out of thin air within a moment.

"I couldn't care less about your apology or why you did it. But it will control your future. You said you wanted to get fucked, eh? Get to it then."

Hermione eagerly climbed off his lap and pulled her wet thongs down her legs in record time. His disdain for her never even registered, furthering his disgust with her, as she swung her leg over his lap once more and straddled him.

"I want you to look at it as it goes in, slut," Harry hissed. "I want you to see and realize that you are cheating on your husband so eagerly. That you are nothing but a whore who likes to behave all high and mighty."

Hermione did as she was instructed, knowing that she was cheating on Ron. However, she could not care less about that fact. All that mattered was getting this fat prick as deep inside her as she could.

Aligning the head of his cock against her pussy, she slowly lowered, gasping when she felt her lower lips part and the head pop inside.

"No wasting time, slut," Harry hissed. "I'm not here for your pleasure or convenience."

"Ah yes Master," she whispered, closing her eyes and groaning as he began pinching and tweaking her nipples. A few seconds passed and finally, she was able to work his entire length deep inside her pussy, and by Merlin did she feel full.

"I've never been filled up like this before!" She cried out and began bouncing on his cock, her pace fast and her thrusts furious. She held onto his shoulders as she bounced, rapidly plunging her gushing quim deeper and deeper onto his cock as he held her by the waist. Her tight young pussy walls slid rapidly against his prick, wetly covering the entire surface as she threw her head back in jubilation, her brown hair rocking in tandem with her thrusts.

"That's because your trash of a husband is just that. A trash."

"A dirty, stinking trash, Master," she agreed with a loud moan as he spanked her arse once again. "I don't know why I even married a loser like him! All he does is rut inside me for a few seconds and he's done."

"I'm not at all interested in his sexual exploits, Mrs. Weasley."

"But you are interested in fucking Mrs. Weasley, right, Master?" She chuckled breathlessly. "You will be fucking her a lot from now on, Master. I am your dirty little escort. I am here for your pleasure and nothing else."

"That's right," Harry grunted. "Glad to hear you know your role."

"Ah yes," She groaned. "My role is in front of you with your cock deep inside me. I know it now, Master. And I promise I'll do everything to make sure you're never disappointed with my services."

"See that you do."

Suddenly, Hermione's body convulsed in his lap. Days of pent-up frustration burst out of the dam and with a loud howl, she gushed around his massive rod as she came. Her body shivered and she would've toppled over if not for the firm hold he had on her arse.

Without wasting a moment, Harry stood up and kept bouncing her on his cock as he walked across the couch and threw her on the dining table. The old cutlery was thrown to the floor where it all shattered into dozens of fragments.

Harry gave her no respite and started to mercilessly drill inside her. He fucked her through her orgasm, uncaring of anything but the sexual pleasure that he was deriving from her. Hermione was mighty tight and she felt wonderful around his cock.

For her part, Hermione could only lay there on the table as he rutted away inside her. Minutes passed as he used her and slowly, her orgasm subsided and her shivering body got back under control.

Her eyes widened as she gazed at him and her role quickly resurfaced in her mind. She was his escort, and she could not remain passive. He was her Master, and he deserved the best of her services.

"Ah yes, Master!" She moaned aloud, wrapping her legs around his hips and pulling him even deeper inside her. "That's it! Fuck me! Take me like your whore! Use me, Master!"

Harry grunted as he did just that.

"You're back, huh?"

"Ah yes. I'm your escort, Master."

"That you are. Don't you dare forget that," he ordered.

"Never!" She cried out. "Oh yes, play with my tits!"

Harry had leaned over, straightening one leg along his chest so that it was pointed upward. With more room, he started filling her up with even more ferocity as he grabbed her tits and squeezed harshly.

"These belong to me now," he hissed. "All of this belongs to me now, you hear? I'll decide what to do with you from now on, and you will take it all like a blessing from your god!"

"Yes, Master!" She cried out. "This is an opportunity, as you said! An opportunity to get better, to make my life better! I can't thank you enough, Master!"

Harry chuckled at her delusion as he fucked her. It played perfectly with his schemes for her and she seemed more than eager. He could hardly complain.

"You've gotten very good at talking like a whore already, Mrs. Weasley," he remarked with labored breath as he hammered into her.

"A married whore. A cheating whore. My Master's whore!" She cried out, and Harry would be lying if he said he was not beyond impressed by her transformation. Gone were any signs of the stuck-up bint that Hermione Weasley née Granger was. All he could see in there now was the slut that had remained slumbering inside her.

In only a couple of sessions along with a period of extended pain and denial, he had changed her personality entirely. The vow had also been hard at work all the while, warping her psyche in perfect accordance with how he wanted her to be, and Harry was more than content with the results.

"You are my whore, eh?" He grinned. "Then get to work already. I'm close."

Hermione was moving before he even finished. She pushed herself off the table and quickly got down to her knees in front of him. Eagerly, she reached forward and grabbed his prick, slick with her orgasmic juices, and wrapped her lips around his manhood, taking him in her mouth.

Harry grunted as she started to suck him off with immense enthusiasm. She stroked his length outside her mouth with one hand while the other grabbed his balls and fondled them. Her eyes, staring at him through her hooded eyelashes, were full of lust and worship for him as she gave him the best blowjob she'd ever given.

"That's it, Master," she breathed hotly, pulling his cock out of her mouth with a lewd pop and starting to stroke it furiously. "Cum on me, Master! Cum on your whore's face, on her tits. Treat her like she deserves! Mark her with your virile seed!"

She intensified the speed of her strokes as she leaned closer, aiming the head of his cock against her face.

Harry grunted, watching the first shot of his thick, potent cum strike her right in the middle of her face, and Hermione went to work eagerly. She stroked him, milking him of everything he had to give her, as she aimed his cock against her face, her upper chest, and her tits, making him shoot his load all over her. Her entire face was slick with his seed, and he could see it dripping off her chin and onto her tits and thighs.

Hermione pushed forward and rubbed the head of his cock against her nipples when he was done, smearing the remainder of his seed against her hardened nubs.

"How did I do, Master?" She purred sexily from her spot in front of him, on her knees as she stared up at him in subservience.

"You did good, Mrs. Weasley," he smirked, taking a seat on the chair to his right. "Now you can feast if you'd like. I won't mind."

She grinned eagerly and began swiping her fingers over her face, feeding herself, and Harry simply stared at her.

'What a filthy whore,' he thought in satisfaction as she slowly cleaned herself up.

"Nice meal?" He smirked.

Hermione turned toward him and smiled.

"Very," she nodded and got up, standing in front of him. "I will work on myself to be worthy of being your escort, Master. I promise."

"See that you do. I'd hate for you to waste this opportunity," he replied, wandlessly casting a silent Tempus. "That's all for the day, I believe. Go on, get dressed."

Hermione nodded obediently and turned around, walking away. Harry stared at her retreating figure. With a little work, she'd surely turn heads wherever she went. He sat comfortably in the chair as he watched her pull the wet thong up her legs, displaying her well-fucked pussy as she bent over. Her lacy bra was next, and soon, she was clothed in the sexy attire she had arrived in.

Turning toward him, she grinned.

"I'll contact you when I feel like it. Be sure to work on yourself. I want to see some sort of improvement when I see you next," he ordered.

Hermione bowed her head submissively and nodded.

"I will, Master," she nodded.

"Good. And make sure you think of a name for the new you. That identity bullshit you spewed an hour or so ago doesn't exist no more, got it?"

Hermione nodded again.

"I will work on it as well, Master."

"See that you do. It's a pain to keep calling you Mrs. Weasley on repeat. I'd much rather prefer something else, even though it's fun to keep reminding you who you are and what you're doing."

"I don't think it bothers me anymore to be honest, Master," she smirked sultrily.

Harry chuckled.

"No, I didn't think it did," he agreed. "Which means it makes sense for you to give this new identity a new name as well. Impress me."

"Yes, Master."

"You can leave now," he instructed, and Hermione obliged dutifully.

Harry watched as she twisted on the spot and with a loud crack of an apparition, she vanished.

"Well," he mused, staring up at the ceiling with a satisfied grin plastered on his face. "That was something."

He was very satisfied with the results so far, and he was very much looking forward to how well she would develop.

His revenge on those traitors had finally begun.

TBC.

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Chapter Text

Harry took a deep breath as he walked through the massive towers that stood on either side of the entryway of the castle, sighing in happiness as he cast his eyes around.

Hogwarts. His first home. He loved this place. He felt the magic of the ancient castle wrap around him like a protective, motherly cocoon, full of love and tender care. This place was his, just as he had always been hers at heart. The castle was sentient and he would always believe it, no matter what anyone had to say on the contrary. After all, there was a reason Dumbledore always said his old mantra.

Help would always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.

Harry did not have much of an opinion on it when he was young, but as he matured, he came to realize Dumbledore's rectification was more appropriate.

Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who deserve it.

He had fought for Hogwarts. He had bled for Hogwarts. He had sacrificed his life for Hogwarts. There was no way the castle would not acknowledge him and as he walked through the courtyard that had once been the battlefield in which he had fought Voldemort to a standstill and ultimately vanquished him, Harry felt the magic of the castle all the while, welcoming her warrior back.

He smiled as he got closer, his eyes affixed on the large group of people gathered to welcome him.

The Headmistress, Professor McGonagall stood in the middle alongside the rest of the Hogwarts staff and a few students who he assumed were the head students and prefects from all four houses.

Things had changed around the castle, mostly for the better, but there was one keen observation he made that pleased him very much. Hogwarts had hired a few professors who were downright sexy and made him want to be very productive.

He spotted Penelope Clearwater and gave her a roguish grin. The girl had left the wizarding World due to increased bigotry and Voldemort's return had driven the final nail in the coffin. The situation had improved after the war thanks to their combined efforts, even though he had skillfully manipulated the entire situation to ensure everyone believed he was the one behind all the favorable reforms. It felt good to see that worship in the eyes of the masses.

Penelope was the new Runes professor after Professor Babbling announced her retirement, both due to her old age and because of the injuries she had sustained in the war.

To her left stood the woman whom Harry had never imagined would join the Hogwarts teaching staff.

Lavender Brown bore no scars from that attack on her, thanks to Bill Weasley, but the encounter had lit up a fire inside her. A desire to become capable enough so that she could teach others how to defend themselves, all to ensure they never found themselves in the situation she once had. It had shocked everyone when the girl had become the DADA professor at Hogwarts and last he'd heard, she'd been doing an excellent job. The woman had sent him many letters over the years, thanking him for everything he'd done and for inspiring her to become a professor through his leadership in the DA. Harry was all too happy to accept a beautiful woman's gratitude, although he'd much prefer to accept all of her.

The beautiful blonde had grown into a sexy professor and he was sure the blokes at Hogwarts must love jerking off to her. Gone was her idiotic and dramatic self, being replaced by a mature look. Harry was very pleased to see the change.

They exchanged grins as Harry approached them and Harry reaffirmed his thoughts to himself. There was a lot of hidden potential in this castle – potential that did not end with those two.

Aurora Sinistra and Septima Vector had been in the wet dreams of almost every bloke at Hogwarts when he had been a student, and he had not been spared by their charms either. A pair of exotic beauties with tanned skins that pointed to significant sunbathing had triggered many imagined scenarios with them either lounging by a pool or on a beach as he played with them, both together and separately. They were in their forties now but they did not look like it at all. A proper pair of MILFs in every sense of the word. Harry could not wait to make them utterly devoted to him.

The final person who Harry spotted sent his blood rushing south at first glance. It was a shame that she always kept her face wrapped under a scarf but there was no way he could ever miss the sinful beauty that was Fleur Delacour, even though she kept herself covered under modest robes.

Her husband's death in the war had motivated her just like Lavender and she had assumed the post of the professor for Care of Magical Creatures. He had received numerous letters from her as well, mostly in support of how he had broken off his relationship with Ginny. Harry knew the two women had never liked each other and it was not surprising to have Fleur in his corner. She had even expressed her disappointment with the rest of the Weasleys for how the entire affair had unfolded, not that Harry cared. Still, he had thanked her for being supportive of him.

Fleur was one of his crushes back then and his desire for her had never vanished entirely. Since discovering his true self, he had thought about her more than once. However, her husband had died in the war that had ended not too long ago and he had decided to hold off pursuing her out of care and concern for her.

However, the bright grin she gave him as she parted her scarf indicated that she might not be grieving anymore and he surely hoped that she was ready to move on. After all, it was a massive loss if a beauty such as Fleur Delacour decided to stay isolated for good.

Harry returned her grin with a bright one of his own as he finally reached them and he gazed at one of the professors he had the utmost respect for.

"Director Potter," Headmistress McGonagall greeted with a respectful smile, her eyes shining with pride. "Welcome back."

Harry smiled at the old woman and looked around.

"Yeah," he said, his voice deep in emotion. "It's great to be back home."

-Break-

At Professor McGonagall's request, Harry had agreed to hold a small session with the students. She believed that the students should learn about the events that had transpired in their world from someone who had been at the heart of it all, and as much as Harry thought being put in the spotlight for a bunch of brats was a chore, he agreed. If it happened to influence young, impressionable minds with the grandiose image of The Harry Potter – dark wizard destroyer and the vanquisher of the Dark Lord Voldemort, then it was a boon he'd rather take.

The look of wonder and admiration in those eyes made him smirk as he spoke about the horrors he had faced during those years. He made sure to regale them with tales of his accomplishments in the war, without any embellishments (not that he needed any), and the more he spoke, the more he could tell they were thoroughly entranced with him.

"The biggest lesson you all need to take away from what we went through," he said with pride as he looked at all those who had fought. "Is that as long as you have trust in your comrades, you can overcome any evil threatening our world."

A thunderous round of applause broke out as students rose to their feet, clapping uproariously. A few were shouting his name in cheer and Harry simply stood there, waving his hand as he basked in their applause.

Back at the professors' table, everyone watched with pride and bright smiles as the wizard who had suffered the most and had saved them all from the forces of the dark stood tall and proud in the aftermath of it all, becoming the magnificent man they all had always thought he would grow into.

As the applause died, Professor McGonagall got to her feet and approached the podium. Harry smiled at the woman and stepped to the side, allowing her to address the students.

"Indeed," she smiled. "As Director Potter said, faith can be your biggest strength. The bonds we forge with our friends and comrades should never be severed and we should devote ourselves to always remaining true to our ideals lest we abuse the very strength and let it become our biggest weakness. I hope you all will take every lesson Director Potter has imparted on you to heart and dedicate yourselves to be the productive members of our new wizarding society as we all believe you will be. Please join me in thanking Director Potter for taking valuable time off his numerous duties and addressing our session here at Hogwarts."

McGonagall stepped back and everyone applauded him again. Harry gave her a respectful bow before repeating it with the rest of the professors and turned to the students with a bright grin. He stifled a chuckle when he saw a few girls on all house tables swooning at the sight and a few blokes seething or glaring.

'Sorry guys, not intentional,' he thought as he eyed them in amusement.

"It's always a pleasure to be here, and I hope we can interact soon," Harry smiled.

McGonagall nodded and gestured for him to go through the doors to the side where the professors usually traversed through as the students slowly filtered out of the Great Hall.

"Well, that was really good. Who knew the boy who used to shy away from attention back in the day would be such a brilliant public speaker?"

Harry cast an amused glance at Penelope Clearwater who gazed at him with a teasing grin.

"That was the boy, Penny," Harry said, confidently choosing to address her familiarly. From the way her eyes widened slightly, he could tell she had not expected it. "I'm all man now. Can't you tell?"

Penelope gazed at his smirking face in surprise for a moment before she blinked and gave him a shaky smile.

"Y-yeah. I can see that," she stammered, her heart beating fast. Harry kept gazing at her with the same smirk which did not help matters in any way whatsoever.

"I've got to prepare for the next class. See you around, Harry," she continued and swiftly took her leave.

'Merlin, get hold of yourself, girl!' She thought to herself, clutching the sides of her robes firmly as she walked away. She could feel his eyes on her as she left and her steps quickened. Harry merely watched her with an amused stare.

His eyes left her as she turned the corner and he smiled to himself when he felt the familiar allure of Fleur approaching him from behind. She was trying to suppress it as much as she could and perhaps the average male would not perceive it but he was no average wizard.

He turned around before she could address him and smirked as he saw her wide eyes staring at him. He was not shocked to see her joined by Lavender, having known how close the two women had gotten during their stay at Hogwarts and with the connection they shared through Bill Weasley's involvement in their lives.

"Surprised I could feel you?" He said with a grin and Fleur stepped closer, cupping his face and softly kissing both his cheeks

"You, mister, 'ave been a stranger," she said with a poke to his chest and Harry swiftly grabbed her hand, smiling softly.

"Sorry, Fleur. I'll do better, I promise," he said. Fleur nodded curtly before a small smile blossomed on her face. Harry grinned back.

"Come on. We'd both like to catch up with you," she said, taking his hand. Harry chuckled, letting her pull him with Lavender walking beside her and he did not shy away from taking as many glances at their delicious rears as he wanted. Those robes were modest but no less form-fitting and he was treated to quite a nice view as they ascended the Grand Staircase.

He did not miss the fact that they were walking toward the private quarters and he could not help but think of lecherous thoughts involving the three of them.

"Rose Bleue," Fleur said as they arrived at their destination and Harry saw the portrait door swing open. The veela entered, pulling him in with her with Lavender bringing up the rear. The door shut closed behind them.

Fleur's quarters were as he could envision them – warm, cozy, and immaculately decorated with the prettiest of artifacts around. It made for a very relaxed setting. There was a couch set by the fireplace and Harry sat in one of the large cushioned chairs, with the women taking their seats in the large couch.

As they sat, Harry could not help but observe them and one thing became clear to him in an instant. He did not hesitate to point it out.

"So…" he started. "When did this happen?"

Both Fleur and Lavender looked at him in surprise for a moment before they sighed. The almost negligible distance between them vanished instantly and they sat close, touching.

"About a month ago," Lavender said softly. "We both could feel it but one evening, it just…"

"We know how it must seem, with the way our world is," Fleur picked up the explanation, taking Lavender's hand and planting a soft kiss on it. "But all things considered—"

"You don't need to explain yourself to anyone, Fleur," Harry said softly. He reached forward and took their joined hands, squeezing comfortingly. "You two deserve happiness after everything you've gone through. The last thing you deserve is being judged by people who have no right to say anything. If you two are happy with each other, then that's all that matters."

Both Fleur and Lavender smiled at him gratefully and with a final squeeze, Harry let go.

"I'm very happy for you two," he smiled. "And yeah, it's not surprising at all. You two share a very strong bond. Never let anyone tell you otherwise."

Fleur and Lavender exchanged a loving look with each other before they turned back to Harry.

"Thank you, 'Arry. It really means a lot."

Harry smiled. Fleur's accent had almost vanished over the years but some of it remained and he hoped it did. He loved the way she called his name, although he hoped she'd soon be calling it in a much different way.

"So… what's been up lately?" He asked before his voice took over a teasing tone. "Enjoying the delights of your new relationship, I assume?"

"Harry Potter, you dirty man!" Lavender mock-exclaimed, her eyes as wide as her grin. "No way we're telling you our bedroom secrets!"

"So there are secrets," he grinned. "Nice to know."

Both blondes shook their heads, mirth shining in their eyes.

"Enough about us. What about you, huh?" Lavender continued, leaning forward. "Which new bird you've got your eyes on now?"

Fleur chuckled, wrapping her arm around Lavender's shoulder as she pulled her back.

"Still on the lookout for one."

"Been too long, hasn't it?" Lavender teased. "You'll have to look for two at this rate to, you know, make up for the lost time."

Harry was quick on the uptake, leaning forward and grinning unabashedly, "Would you look at it? I've got two lovely ladies right here with me! What say, you two? Wanna get down to it?"

There was a moment of silence as they gazed at each other before all three let out chortles, laughing.

"You've changed so much it scares me sometimes," Lavender remarked after a few moments of laughter.

"Don't worry, Lav," Harry smirked. "I won't bite… unless you're into that stuff. Then it's all fair game."

The blonde merely shook her head as Fleur grinned.

"Enough teasing now," the veela interjected, smiling. "How's work, 'Arry?"

"Aw, we really have to talk about that stuff?" He groaned. "This is much more fun."

Fleur merely gazed at him with an amused look on her face and Harry sighed.

"Fine. Everything's normal. Paperwork's a bitch, the job is boring most of the time, most of the Death Eaters and their chumps are either dead or chucked off in Azkaban—"

"Looks like Director Potter's been a very efficient director of the DMLE if crime's at an all time low and the job's so boring," Fleur chuckled.

"Hey, no director shit from you. Hearing it in public is enough."

"Still, it's good that there's not much happening. The less job there is for the aurors, the better it is for the society. We all deserves some peace after the violence of the past few years," Lavender said darkly.

"I hear you," Harry sighed, gazing at the blonde. "But too much peace makes the public forget what it was like. They should never forget what they went through."

"And you've done a remarkable job reminding them of it all," Fleur said supportively, taking his hand. "The sessions you've been holding, those interviews… we've read them all. Believe me, Harry. You've kept the memories of the war alive in everyone's minds and they cannot forget about it, ever. Their lives are peaceful because of you and there is awareness because of you as well. It makes me so proud to see how much you've been doing for everyone and yet those ungrateful…"

Fleur trailed off, her lips set in a thin line, and Harry pursed his lips. He knew she was talking about Ron, Hermione, and Ginny – people he had believed he would find happiness with and those who had betrayed him in the worst way imaginable.

He saw them staring at him sadly and shook his head, smiling.

"Moving on…" Lavender said, trying to lift the mood. "I read that paper you published last month, Harry. It's going to revolutionize the market, that's for sure."

Harry smiled at the woman, silently thanking her for the much-needed change in the topic as Fleur brightened once again, smiling at him.

"Yeah," the veela nodded. "Who could've imagined there'd be a spell that could cure dark magic petrification? Now there'd be no need to use mandrakes for making that draught and it can be used for its original purpose."

Harry grinned. Having Voldemort's knowledge and memories was a massive advantage he had on his side. The bastard had created a dark petrification spell to put his enemies down just like an indirect gaze of a basilisk could do, not that the bastard knew it. All it needed was the counter he had developed and now Harry had a perfect spell to release in the market that had bolstered his fame and renown to further heights.

"Well, I remembered what happened back when the Chamber of Secrets was opened and how students were petrified for almost the entire year. It needed a better and quick solution."

"That it did," Lavender agreed. "Thanks to you, things will never be so bad ever again."

Harry merely smiled.

-Break-

It was a few hours after Harry left Fleur and Lavender on their own.

Lavender sat at the table, biting on the feather end of the quill she was holding as she read a sheet of parchment in front of her.

"Another mistake. I'm honestly at a loss with this girl here. How many times does she need the same explanation?" She muttered, jotting down a 'D' on top and sliding it to the side.

Fleur walked behind the woman and began to gently massage her shoulders.

"You're too tense," she said softly as Lavender moaned, tilting her head to the side so that her girlfriend had more access. Fleur smirked and helped herself to more exposed skin, massaging gently. "I remember you telling me how you got a few D's in your time here as well."

"Well, yeah. I was one big idiot," Lavender chuckled, reminiscing her time as a student. "But things happened that forced me to change. None of these students should ever have to go through what we did."

Fleur sighed with a nod. "Yeah, they should not. But you should not keep working even on an off day."

She pulled off the pin holding her bun in place and smirked as her hair fell all over her back. Pushing her hair to the side, Fleur leaned closer and began to kiss along the side of her girlfriend's neck, earning a soft sigh from her.

"Fleur…" Lavender moaned as the quill was pulled out of her hand and gently placed on the table.

She let out another loud moan as her girlfriend reached into her robes and pushed her bra down, grabbing hold of her large breasts and starting to squeeze.

"Come," Fleur said softly and Lavender could not deny even if she wanted to. She stepped out of the chair and allowed Fleur to lead her over to their bed. The two buxom blondes fell on the bed, arms wrapped around each other as their lips met in a passionate kiss.

They held each other close as their mouth got more urgent, their tongues dueling languidly as Fleur rolled them over so that she was on top. Leaning back, the beautiful veela gazed at her girlfriend, breathing heavily.

She smirked and reached down, pulling her robe open.

"And you did what we agreed to," she grinned at the sight of her barely clothed form. As previously agreed, they had worn only their lingerie sets under their witches' robes. She gazed at her girlfriend's exposed tits, her red bra pulled under them.

Lavender's response was to pull Fleur's robes off her, leaving her clad in only her frilly blue bra and knickers as well.

"Merlin, you are one sexy witch," Lavender complimented. "I never thought I'd ever be jealous of another witch's knockers but yours are something else."

Fleur chuckled. "Your tits are nothing to scoff at either, mon amour."

She gazed at Lavender's creamy globes topped by hard pink nipples and the swollen areola. Her hand gently reached down and caressed her tits, feeling the softness, the heat, and the weight of those silky smooth mounds in her grasp. She reached behind Lavender and unsnapped her bra, pulled the straps off her shoulders, and threw it on the floor. Reaching down, she grabbed the waistband of her lacy red thong and Lavender readily raised her hips, allowing her to pull her thong off. Naked, Lavender spread her legs and gave her girlfriend a saucy grin.

Fleur grinned and softly stroked her girlfriend's slit with the back of her middle finger, earning a soft intake of breath from her. With her free hand, she lifted her thong to her nose and took a long whiff.

"Your smell is so arousing," she whispered. She inhaled deeply a few more times before throwing it away.

Lavender reached up and took Fleur's bra off, freeing up her large mounds that jutted out proudly from her chest, dangling right in front of her face and she could not help but lean upward and take one of her nipples in her mouth, sucking readily.

"Oui," Fleur moaned.

Lavender lifted her hands and grabbed both of her girlfriend's tits. She started to alternate between the two, sucking and licking all over her creamy mounds.

Fleur was not one to remain passive and the finger rubbing over her slit straightened. She slid it in and started flicking her finger between the woman's hot, wet folds.

"Ah Morgana. That feels nice. That feels so nice," Lavender moaned against Fleur's tits.

Fleur parted her folds with another finger and slid it inside her as well, slowly moving her hand back and forth, fucking her twat with her fingers as if it was a dick that was repeatedly plunging inside her. She had her head thrown back in pleasure as her girlfriend played with her tits.

"Fleur," Lavender gasped, pulling off her tits and Fleur looked down to see her girlfriend's wide eyes gazing at her. "Around and on top, love."

Fleur grinned and quickly obliged. She turned around and swung her leg over her girlfriend's face, straddling it and Lavender wasted no time in taking her knickers off. A loud moan escaped Fleur when Lavender's lips eagerly latched on to her lower lips.

Fleur lowered herself on top of her, mashing up their massive tits against each other's bellies. She kissed the smooth, creamy inner thigh of her girlfriend and moved upward until her face was right in front of her completely exposed pussy.

Just as she had done with her thong, she took a long whiff and let out a wanting sigh. Her hands pushed Lavender's thighs further apart and she watched how her dripping labia became even more pronounced, pulsing red.

She let out another moan as Lavender ate her out and knew she had to return the favor. She stuck her tongue out and probed her girlfriend's slit, loving how she tasted.

The two lovers grew more fervent and aggressive as they pleasured each other and in no time, they had their tongues spreading each other's pussies, probing as deeply as they could. They were writhing, thrusting each other's pussies against each other's mouths and their hands quickly joined in, grabbing the other's rear and fondling enthusiastically.

In no time, their mouths had latched on the other's clit and they gently nipped with their lips and sucked eagerly.

Loud moans escaped both women as they pleasured each other, driving themselves to their respective climaxes. As if reading the other's mind, they both sucked their fingers and pushed them inside each other, fondling their arses with one and fingering with the other.

"You're acting very different today," Lavender remarked, moaning as they kept pushing their fingers back and forth inside each other.

"Me? What about you? Don't think I missed anything, my dear Lav," Fleur said with a grin.

"Can you blame me? We might have found each other but that doesn't mean we're lesbians," Lavender moaned. There was no need to hide anything. "Ah fuck. He's become a snack, hasn't he?"

"Hah. You noticed today?" Fleur chuckled.

"So you've been thinking about it for a while now, eh? You silly bitch!" Lavender replied, gasping as her girlfriend flicked her clit with her thumb, still fingering her. She could feel her climax approaching and she intensified her ministrations, playing with Fleur's clit as well.

Fleur gasped at the sensation and she grinned filthily against her girlfriend's cunt.

"Can you think of anyone other man you could have been with if we hadn't found each other?" She asked, shivering slightly. "'Arry's one hell of a catch, and not just because he's powerful and all else. He's one of the best people I know, definitely the one who cares the most, especially for people he is close to. You already know how unfair it all has been for him."

"Ginny is really a bitch for doing that to him. Ron and Hermione too," Lavender agreed.

"Let's make a promise, Lav," Fleur said against her girlfriend's pussy, licking off her orgasmic juices. "If it becomes possible, we'll welcome 'Arry in our relationship with both of us. We'll share him and each other with him."

Lavender closed her eyes, envisioning it was Harry's cock and not Fleur's fingers that were plunging deep inside her and a loud cry tore out of her throat as she convulsed over her girlfriend's fingers, the thought too stimulating. Her body shook and her fingers moved erratically, forcing Fleur to cry out as her orgasm washed over as well.

Together, the two lovers came, their pussies occupied with each other's fingers but their thoughts dominated by a certain emerald-eyed wizard who they both found attractive beyond measure.

Minutes passed as they came down from their orgasmic highs and they lay in their bed with their arms wrapped around each other, gazing into each other's eyes lovingly.

"What do you say? Do you agree?" Fleur asked, caressing her girlfriend's naked back as she held her close.

"We'll need someone if we want to be mothers one day," Lavender said softly. "I can think of no one better to be our partner."

Fleur's eyes softened and she leaned closer. The lovers kissed each other tenderly, a mutual understanding forming between them.

-Break-

High up in the castle on the seventh floor inside the Room of Requirement, an amused Harry stared at the massive screen with a triumphant grin as he gazed at the pair of naked witches sensuously making out, their faces smeared with each other's juices and their cunts pulsing red.

He had his sights set on those two but he'd never known they were attracted to him as well, and not just physically.

It played perfectly into his plans and he was excited to pursue them. However, he did not want things to be easy for them either. They had admitted that they wanted him but if they did, then they had to work for it.

There was something that gave him pause though. Harry stroked his jaw as he thought about it. They wanted him to be involved with them romantically – something he was not keen on at all. He had grand visions and getting saddled with an exclusive relationship was firmly against his plans.

He had no qualms about being with them, but only on his terms. They could agree to those terms, or he would one day make them. After all, what he wanted, he took.

He willed the room to vanish the screen and sighed as he felt his cock throbbing in his trousers. It was not surprising that he was aroused after watching the erotic show that Fleur and Lavender had put on. He spied the tent in his pants and his eyes fell on his golden mark. He smirked when it pulsed brightly.

Pansy had been pestering him for it ever since she had watched him do it with Narcissa. Perhaps he would humor his slut tonight.

The room conjured a fireplace for him and Harry walked over. Seconds later, he vanished from Hogwarts in a swirl of emerald flames.

Pansy better be grateful for having a benevolent lord like him.

TBC.

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Chapter Text

The sunlight streaked through the open window as Harry stirred awake, blinking. He felt pressure on his body and glanced down, smirking when he saw the sleeping Narcissa and Pansy clutching tightly onto him as they slept soundly.

Pansy had been very grateful for the previous night when he had given her what she'd been asking for. It was the exclusive treatment, which meant just the two of them, much to Narcissa's slight chagrin. The former lady of House Malfoy was an obedient servant, however, and she obliged with his command without any complaints.

It had the expected side effect though. The woman was clingy and Harry felt every bit of it considering the way she was tightly clutching onto him as she slept, as if trying to fuse their naked bodies.

Harry released a deep breath as he reached over and palmed their bare arses, fondling them as he pondered on his next course of action.

Fleur and Lavender were ripe for the taking and he believed he could have them in any manner he wanted if he showed his interest. But he did not want it. They needed to work for it. They needed to show how much they wanted him if they truly desired to submit themselves to him. He was not going to take them as he had taken Narcissa, Pansy, and Hermione.

Additionally, Madam Abbott was going to retire in a few days which meant he would need a new secretary.

As was usual with every endeavor of his, he pondered on if he could manipulate this into something that would give his PR another boost. His secretary needed to be capable of following all his commands to the tee and the appointment also needed to be a statement in itself. As Harry lay between Narcissa and Pansy, their naked and curvaceous frames pressed flush against him on either side, he pondered on several ideas, wondering who would be interested and whether they'd satisfy his criteria.

About half an hour passed when his servants finally stirred from their slumber, and Harry cast an amused glance at them.

"Good morning," he remarked, smiling.

"Good morning, My Lord," they chanted one after the other, utterly devoted. Pansy was especially glowing, a bright grin on her face.

"Had a good sleep?"

"The best," Pansy purred, rubbing her sizeable tits against his chest as she planted soft kisses along the side of his neck.

Harry chuckled and met Narcissa halfway in a languid kiss as the woman entangled their legs, rubbing her hot core against his thigh.

"You ignored me last night, My Lord," she purred against his lips. "Your Cissa wants you to take her as well."

Harry pulled both women firmly against him as he kept his eyes affixed to the ceiling.

"This place feels too gloomy, doesn't it?" He asked instead of responding. As one, both women cast their gazes around. "Remember what I said about a new place?"

"You got it?" Narcissa asked eagerly with a bright grin.

Harry nodded with a chuckle.

"Oh please tell me you didn't decorate it already," the blonde continued excitedly. "I've been thinking so much about that ever since you told me about it. How the walls will look, how the ceilings will be outlined, what patterns should be there… the bed, sheets, blankets, all of it. Everything would be so luxurious… exactly what My Lord deserves!"

Harry chuckled, still staring at the ceiling. The woman was in no way subtle and he could see through her easily. His servant and his mistress she might be, but she was also a daughter of the House of Black. Her ambition was still there. She was hoping to make a play at being the next lady of House Potter and even though he could respect her for having the ambition, he had no desire to fulfill it. There was no way he could choose Narcissa Black as the lady of House Potter. It would be a PR nightmare. Additionally, he did not deem her worthy enough for the position. She was blessed enough to be his mistress and that was all she would ever be. It didn't mean he couldn't let her have her fun though. If there was something she did not lack in, it was her devotion to him and he was confident that whatever she chose would be appropriate. She was a daughter of the Blacks and the former Lady Malfoy, after all. She was bound to have an exquisite taste.

"You do whatever you want. I'm sure you won't do anything that would compromise your lord's standing in the wizarding society, right, Cissa?" He asked with an edge to his voice and the blonde immediately straightened. She looked him firmly in the eyes and shook her head.

"I would rather die than bring dishonor to My Lord," she said passionately.

"Good girl," Harry praised and with a final squeeze of their lovely curves, he detached from the two women and climbed out of the bed. He gazed at their sinful figures, naked and heaving and sprawled on the bed, tempting him with their vices, and Harry walked away with a smirk. "Oh, and I almost forgot it. Pansy, there's something I'd like you to do for me."

Pansy listened attentively to what her lord had to say and her eyes widened.

"Really, My Lord?" She asked, earning a nod from him.

"Get done with it today. I don't want to bother too much with it."

The brunette nodded obediently and watched her lord as he entered the bathroom. She turned toward Narcissa who was sprawled on the bed right beside her.

"Don't bring our lord dishonor, Pansy."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Pansy replied.

-Break-

Harry glanced up from the folder he had been holding when the door to his office opened. He gave the elderly woman a warm smile and gazed at one of his most trusted aurors following behind her.

"Only a couple of days and you're free, Martha," he remarked, smiling.

Martha Abbott chuckled. "Age waits for no one, Director. As much as I like working for you, I will indeed enjoy retirement."

"It's high time you had some rest as well, Martha," Susan remarked with slight exasperation. "Thank you for escorting me in."

The old woman smiled at the redhead before she turned around and walked out of the office, shutting the door behind her.

"Well then, to what do I owe this unexpected visit?" Harry asked teasingly as he gazed at Susan. The redhead was one of the most stunning witches he had ever laid eyes on and over the years, she had become one of his staunchest supporters. Although unaware of his true motivations, she wholeheartedly agreed with a lot of his actions to the point where she had often actively assisted him. The case with Zabini and other pureblood houses was a classic example.

Try as he might, Harry could not help but let his eyes linger on the vision that the beautiful redhead was. Considered one of the bustiest witches there was, the woman never shied away from flaunting her assets. She never let people look at more skin than she deemed them worthy, keeping her attire perfectly in line with what being a professional demanded, but the way her robes were tailored left no doubts in the minds of anyone that she purposely commissioned them to be as form-fitting as possible so that her wondrous assets were showcased in all their splendorous glory.

Even now, she was wearing a formal business suit that consisted of a blue cotton shirt with a black waist-high blazer over it and a matching black skirt that ended right above her knees. A pair of black-heeled shoes completed her office attire. Modern, classy, and professional. No one could complain, not even those who wanted to have a hard-on upon landing their eyes on her. Professional her attire might be, but the shirt strained against her considerable bust. Her massive tits threatened to pop out of her clothes and Harry had a feeling that she must be using the Unbreakable Charm to prevent it. Her large, plump arse flared, pushing against her skirt and giving a tantalizing view of her shapely behind.

As always whenever he set his sights upon his busty friend, Harry's hands itched to reach forward and grab her. He wanted to do all sorts of sinful things with the woman who he knew had never been with a man in her life but no matter how much he desired her, he knew he couldn't do it. He had very few genuine friendships left, and he would not act on his desires as long as he was not confident that she was interested in escalating things between them as well. Giving in to his urges and destroying one of his most treasured friendships was a foolish endeavor and as such, Harry restrained himself as always.

"Why? I can't come visit my friend unannounced?" Susan asked teasingly as she took her seat, placing the file she was carrying on the table.

Harry let out a chuckle but he did not fail to notice a couple of details. Susan was visibly concerned which was weird in itself but given how the file had the word 'CONFIDENTIAL' inscribed on it, Harry knew it was something serious that had brought her to meet him. She wouldn't have come over in person otherwise.

"Well, you know you are always welcome wherever I am," Harry replied with a fond smile, earning a soft smile from the redhead as well. "But that thing tells me this ain't a casual visit. What's wrong, Sue?"

Susan stared at his finger tapping the word and sighed. She slid the file forward and Harry picked it up with ease, frowning as he read the summary of the report on the first page.

Confidential Report – Multiple Attacks across Wizarding Britain

On the 22nd of April at approximately 11:30 PM, powerful hexes and jinxes including the two Unforgivables, namely the Cruciatus Curse and the Killing Curse, were detected by trace monitors at an abandoned warehouse in an industrial area of Manchester. Aurors arrived to find the building severely damaged — walls blasted apart, windows shattered, scorch marks and debris everywhere. Residual magic analysis indicates at least a dozen unknown wizards apparated to the location and engaged in an intense session of spellcasting lasting several minutes before departing, leaving considerable destruction behind. In spite of human fluids consisting of sweat and blood recovered from the site, no bodies were found.

Five days later on the 27th of April at 2:15 AM, a Muggle family in the village of Stoke Bishop, Bristol contacted authorities reporting strange flashes of colored light, loud explosions, and peculiar sounds like bangs and whistles coming from the woods near their home in the middle of the night. Obliviators were immediately dispatched but found no clear source or evidence of magic use other than the family's witness testimony.

Most alarming was an incident on the 4th of May around midnight in the small wizarding village of Ottery St. Catchpole in Devon. According to shaken witness reports, a heavily cloaked group of at least 10 individuals apparated into the village center and immediately began firing off curses, jinxes, and explosive blasts in multiple directions with no clear target. The brutal attack lasted nearly 20 minutes, leaving several homes and businesses demolished and at least 3 villagers hospitalized at St Mungo's with severe curse injuries before the perpetrators suddenly disapparated en masse. Residual magic traces were highly volatile, impeding evidence gathering.

No groups or individuals have claimed responsibility for these increasingly brazen attacks as of yet. However, the organized nature, sophisticated magic, anti-Muggle elements, and wanton destruction suggest the involvement of an emerging dark force working outside the law, likely with Blood Supremacist and anti-Muggle leanings. Their motivations and ultimate goals remain unknown at this time. Continued enhanced monitoring and investigation are underway to identify the culprits.

The rest of the file contained detailed observations of the auror force as well as comments from the investigators involved, and Harry put it down with a frown on his face.

"That last attack… did you hear anything from the Weasleys, the Diggorys, or Mr. Lovegood?"

"Xenophilius Lovegood has been overseas for months now on another of his creature hunts while the Weasleys were out visiting their son Charlie in Romania. The Diggorys did not report anything more than the information we received from the other residents of the village," Susan replied.

Harry nodded, his face grave. "Well, looks like we've had it with peace, eh? It's a wonder it lasted this long, to be honest."

"After all we went through… all the battles fought… all the lives lost, we have this new threat on our hands already," Susan muttered.

"There's no benefit in worrying about it, Sue," Harry intoned firmly. "I'd like your mind at full focus here. Tell me what you think."

"There are reasons to believe this is a coordinated act. We wouldn't have stumbled on it if not for these escalating encounters, especially that attack in Devon," Susan replied. "Former Death Eater families, perhaps. They've been desperate for a while now with lack of working opportunities."

"And we can't blame the employers for not taking chances with them either, nor can we force them to employ people they clearly don't want to," Harry sighed. "I can see the logic there."

"Or it could be some other party altogether," Susan theorized. "Some new radical group that doesn't like the changes that have happened since the war. You know not everyone is happy with how things have gone ahead in the past few years."

Harry nodded and he sat quietly for a few seconds, deliberating.

"I'd like you to take charge of this investigation, Sue," Harry instructed firmly. Susan gave him a curt nod. "Fortunately, the auror force is at the best it's been in a few decades now. We need to reinforce the security measures. Instruct the patrol teams to keep on the alert."

"There's nothing fortunate about the auror force being what it is, Harry. It's all because of your massive efforts that we're as capable as we are today," Susan replied. "You should stop being so humble sometimes."

Chuckling to himself, Harry kept his true feelings firmly under check as he gave her a polite smile. A proud man he might be, but humility went a long way in forming lasting impressions. There was no need to brag about himself if there were others who did it for him.

Harry continued, "Keep monitoring the situation carefully, Sue. Remember that we can't let word get out in the public that there might be another radical uprising afoot behind the scenes. There'd be unnecessary mass panic and it'd only help those assholes."

"You don't need to tell me that," Susan nodded firmly. "I'll coordinate with the auror force and keep you updated with every new development."

"Don't forget to tell me when some rough treatment is due," Harry replied, twirling his wand ferally. Whoever these morons were, they would meet their end soon enough. There was no way he was letting everything he was building in this country be destroyed by some moronic Death Eater wannabes.

Susan's breath hitched slightly when she felt the warmth of his magic, violent yet protective, swirl around the office. She could feel how dangerous it was, yet she felt no fear or apprehension. Only comfort. It felt as if his magic was hugging her intimately, caressing her, and massaging her nerves to calm her.

"I-I won't," she replied, a little breathless.

Harry gazed at her with slight amusement as he sat, leaning back comfortably in his chair.

"I'll be seeing you then," Susan replied and got up. She left the file on the table for Harry to peruse and turned around, walking away.

Harry let his eyes feast on the sight of Susan's wide hips as they swayed tantalizingly, forming a perfect bulbous shape against the surface of her black skirt as she walked away and he couldn't help but remark something to himself once again.

'She has the perfect child-bearing hips.'

-Break-

When it came to Pansy, she was indeed very grateful for having such a benevolent lord. She knew her place as his devout follower, and as his submissive servant, she had humbly requested something of him. Just like the kind master he was, he had obliged. He was meticulous, and he was caring. When she was with him, pain never existed, no matter what they did. It was pure pleasure and nothing else.

They were supposed to move out of #12 Grimmauld Place the next day, which meant it was their last night here. She and Narcissa had the idea that they should say goodbye to this place in the best way possible and it was no surprise that they found themselves in their lord's bedroom. As asked by their lord, they made out with each other as they went about stripping each other naked, caressing their nubile young curves for his pleasure.

"Step back and turn towards me, both of you," their lord instructed.

Their large tits shaking in excitement, the brunette stood in the middle of her room with the blonde as their lord took off his clothes.

"On the bed on your hands and knees for your lord, Pansy," Harry instructed and Pansy eagerly complied, getting on the spot and immediately assuming the position as instructed. She glanced over her shoulder and wiggled her plump behind at him.

"Like this, My Lord?" She purred.

"Just like that," Harry smirked. He slowly walked over, stroking his cock and Pansy wiggled her arse again, her eyes locked on to him. The bed sank slightly as Harry climbed over and assumed his place behind her. He reached out and grabbed her naked thighs, caressing softly as he slowly climbed until he was holding her cheeks in each hand.

"Lie down on the bed with your legs spread apart, Cissa. My Pansy will treat you for the favor you granted her last night."

Grinning, Narcissa climbed on the bed, her tits jiggling enticingly as she propped herself on the pillows, her legs spread apart. Pansy and Harry both gazed at her glistening pink petals and Narcissa reached down, spreading her lips apart.

"Get to work, girl," she smirked.

Reaching out, Harry spread Pansy with his thumbs, playing with the wet, pink folds of her sex just as Pansy leaned forward and planted soft kisses along the blonde's inner thighs.

"You're dripping for me, Pansy," he muttered. "You want it in here?"

"M-My Lord…"

"Or you want it in here again?" He cut her off, rubbing her rosebud with his thumb. It had been only a day since he had taken Pansy's anal virginity and he knew the woman had gotten addicted to it real nice.

Pansy shivered in anticipation, leaning forward. Her arse hiked higher in the air as she pressed her lips on Narcissa's pussy, her eyes closing. Narcissa kept her eyes on her lord as she caressed Pansy's brown hair with one hand and fondled her breast with the other.

"Do you want our lord to give you your special reward for being such a good little servant, Pansy?" The blonde whispered seductively, grinning at her lord who smirked.

"Oh yes… My Lord… Please give me my special reward. I've been a very good girl, right?"

Harry stroked Pansy's rear entrance with his thumb as he nodded. "That you have, my dear… that you have. And I always treat my girls fairly, don't I?"

Pansy shuddered as a tingling sensation shot through her rear door. She was cleaned up and lubed to the hilt in no time. Her fists clenched on the bedsheet when she felt her lord press forward, pushing the head of his prick against her rosebud.

"Oh Merlin… Ohh yesss…" Pansy gasped, breathless, against Narcissa's pussy as her lord slowly slid inside her arse. As slick and accommodating as she was, he encountered little resistance.

Pansy was awed at the influx of sensations coursing through her very being as a result of her lord's manhood deep inside her arse. Her mind felt as if it had turned to pudding. Her lord took her from behind and she could not contain her moans of pleasure.

Harry leaned forward and rested his elbows on Pansy's hips, both to stabilize her lower body and for leverage. His hungry erection kept plunging deep into her tight rear, their skin slapping against each other erotically as his hands sought her dangling tits that were jiggling hotly under her.

Pansy moaned and hissed against Narcissa's needy quim, trying her best to eat her out as her lord had his way with her. He was making this too hard for her. His fingers pinched and pulled on her hard nipples as he leaned over her, keeping her firmly in position.

"Mmm… very nice, my dear Pansy… You feel very good. I love your delicious tits. Does my dear Pansy like it when her lord plays with her lovely tits while he fucks her in the ass?"

"Oh yes, My Lord! Your dear Pansy loves it when you fuck her arse! Loves it very much! Oh fuck please… oh! Fuck your dear Pansy, My Lord. Fuck your dear Pansy while you play with her tits!"

Harry was already aroused after the show Narcissa and Pansy had put on for him. Coupled with the feeling of Pansy's hot tightness and her submissiveness, he was feeling hornier and hornier.

"Oh, my dear Pansy. Your lord loves fucking your pussy, and your lord loves fucking your arse too. But none of those are really yours, are they? Don't you belong to your lord, Pansy? And doesn't that mean every bit of you belongs to your lord as well?"

Harry squeezed her tits harder as he said it, pumping furiously into her tight rear as he fucked her. His words had a profound effect on Pansy as well who was now pushing eagerly against him as well, desperate to have as much of his cock inside her arse as she could.

"Oh yes, My Lord! Of course I'm yours! Oh! And yes! My pussy too! My arse too! Oh my tits too! It's yours, My Lord! All yours!" She chanted passionately as she pulled back from Narcissa's lips, bucking hard against him.

The blonde wasted no time and firmly grabbed Pansy's head, forcing her to eat her out. To intensify her stimulation, the blonde began to stroke her clit firmly, gasping and moaning as the brunette ate her out.

Minutes passed with nothing but the sounds of Harry's hips slapping hard and fast against Pansy's curvy arse and their moans and grunts echoing throughout the room as Harry rammed furiously inside Pansy's rear while she eagerly ate Narcissa out. The blonde was keeping Pansy's mouth firmly against her pussy, not letting up for even a second as she chased her orgasm. She knew once her lord started taking charge, she would have to do it all herself because Pansy would be in no position to do anything but pleasure their lord.

Harry deemed it enough and he grinned, licking his lips. He reached out and delivered a resounding smack on the brunette's arse cheeks, relishing her loud wail against Narcissa's pussy and the visual display of her skin jiggling enticingly. A visible red imprint of his palm on her white skin made him smirk. He reached forward and grasped her tits once again, eagerly toying with her nipples.

Their grunts and moans reverberated around the room as they kept slamming sweatily against each other, their breaths uneven. Pansy's pussy was gushing with her slick juices and suddenly, she let out a loud gasp that was cut off when Narcissa forced her mouth back on her pussy, her breathing ragged as she felt her imminent orgasm.

Harry smirked to himself as he pulled one hand off her breast and let it find its way between her legs. He found her clit within moments and began stimulating her ardently, making her gasp loudly.

"Ahhh My Lord!" The brunette cried out. Harry gave her no respite however and let his other hand travel upward. Narcissa quickly removed her hand from Pansy's hair as her lord threaded his fingers through the brunette's lustrous brown hair, snaring a handful, and he bunched it up into his palm as he wrapped his fist around it, pushing her mouth firmly against Narcissa's clit.

The brunette was quick on the move and she sucked hard, rolling her tongue around the hardened nub of flesh. Narcissa failed to hold in the loud wail that escaped her and she began to convulse, her juices trickling out of her gushing pussy violently.

"AHH FUCKK! OHH… MMM… AHH YESS…" Narcissa cried out as her orgasm washed over her. Her unseeing eyes gazed at the spectacle of debauchery right in front of him as she shivered uncontrollably, her breathing ragged.

Pansy was splashed right in the face and she eagerly lapped it up, loving how her lord had taken control. It seemed to make her slap her perky rear against him even harder, repeatedly pushing his massive cock deep inside her.

Harry smirked as he gazed at a shivering Narcissa who clutched her tits firmly as she came, her unseeing eyes trained on him and a delirious smile on her face.

"Don't you think you're done tonight. I'll be having you soon," Harry called out. Narcissa giggled in delight and nodded, her eagerness evident.

Harry assaulted Pansy from behind with vigor, squeezing the hardened nub of flesh around her clit. Simultaneously, he tugged on her hair firmly. Pansy let out a loud moan of pleasure followed by a giggle as she began to pant and ram her arse harder and harder into him. Harry smirked and tugged back on her hair harshly, making her back arch and her head tilted upward. His fingers pinched her clit lightly, making the brunette shudder and moan lecherously.

"Who's your Master, Pansy?" Harry hissed through clenched teeth as he thrust his cock furiously into her arse with ever-increasing force and enthusiasm. He yanked back on her hair once again. Pansy's loud moans stood testament to how much she loved his rough treatment.

"You are… My Lord! My Master! Only you!" Pansy cried out. She was no longer just slamming her hips back against his thrusts but she had started gyrating her arse on his cock, rotating in circles as she desperately sought to keep his cock filling her rear.

"Glad you've not forgotten your place, my dear Pansy," Harry chuckled gruffly.

"Never, My Lord!" She cried out as if even considering it was blasphemy. "You are my Master! My Lord! I'll never forget my place!"

"Good girl," Harry whispered in her ear and kept slamming his tool as hard and fast into her as he could, gyrating his hips in perfect harmony with her movements. He thrust into her, holding himself to the hilt inside her for a few seconds as he rotated his hips in tandem with her movements, making her moan and sigh. He kept tugging on her hair and rubbing her clit furiously, slapping his hips against hers, and the overload of sensations made her almost delirious.

However, it was when Harry leaned forward and whispered, "Cum for me, my pet," in her ear that Pansy lost it. She exploded, trembling and jerking erratically as she creamed against his fingers that kept her petals parted. Every inch of her body quaked uncontrollably as she spasmed, screaming incoherently at first but soon able to form proper words yet again.

"YES! YES, SIR! AHH MY LORD! AHH YES! FUCK YOUR LITTLE… LITTLE SERVANT, SIR! OHH! DON'T EVER STOP! OHH YESSS! FUCK YOUR DIRTY SLUT!"

She let out a loud wail of pleasure, squirming and shaking against him, her hot juices gushing all over his palm and onto the bed.

Harry released his hold on her hair and pulled his hand off her clit. Both hands reached forward and firmly grabbed hold of her shaking tits and he squeezed and pinched her hard nubs. Holding her tits hard, Harry pulled her upright, and with her arse still impaled on his cock, Pansy stood on her knees with her back flush against his front.

His lips found the sensitive spot on the side of her neck and he sucked harshly, nibbling as Pansy brought her arms up and wrapped them around his neck, pushing her tits out against his palms. Her pussy pulsed, dripping wet, as she stimulated her rectal muscles around his girth.

"Ohh Master…" Pansy moaned. "Please cum in me… Give me your seed, Sir!"

Harry kept sucking her neck harshly as he pumped into her, the ferocity of his thrusts increasing dramatically with each passing second as he chased his coveted orgasm. He slammed furiously into her and with a grunt, he exploded.

Pansy let out a keening sigh, her lips curled triumphantly as she felt his hot, thick seed shoot deep inside her arse. She clenched hard around him, coaxing every bit of his seed from him as she impaled herself on his cock.

They slammed for endless, wondrous minutes, squirming, gasping, grunting, sighing, and moaning as they reveled in the passion of Pansy's second-ever anal sex.

"Mmm…" Pansy moaned when he finally slid out of her. "You are the best Master anyone could ever ask for."

Harry chuckled as he pushed her to the side, his gaze now affixed on the blonde who sat propped up against the pillows by the head of the bed. The blonde smirked sexily at her lord as she curled her finger, beckoning him toward her. Her legs were spread apart and Harry had the perfect sight of her inflamed womanhood slick with her juices.

"Come, My Lord. Let us say goodbye to this house properly. Take me how you took me all those days ago when you gave me this new life," Narcissa whispered throatily, stroking her lower lips.

Smirking, Harry slid over to her on his knees, hovering over her as he gazed at her smiling face. His manhood hardened immediately with a powerful lurch and Narcissa's eyes glinted in delight. She opened her arms, welcoming her lord, and wrapped her limbs around him as he lowered himself on top of her.

"Yeah," Harry whispered, gazing into her expressive eyes as he reached out and licked her lips hotly. "That's the best way to end our stay here."

Without any further ado, he leaned down and lowered himself on top of her, flushing their sweaty, naked bodies as he pressed his lips against hers.

TBC.

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Chapter Text

There was one thing that had changed the most about Harry Potter since he had suffered the betrayal at the hands of his former friends and had his eyes opened to the harsh truths of the world. He had become fiercely territorial of whatever he called his, and it applied to everything. The women he had ever been with had been spoiled to such an extent that they never tried to crave the touch of another man, knowing none could compare to what they had experienced with him and how he would not like it one bit. It applied to everyone he had ever bedded, and even those he hadn't yet but had shown even the slightest interest in.

Ginny Weasley had been the only one to have veered from that norm, but even she had refrained from pursuing other bedwarmers ever since he had fucked her in his office.

As such, it was obvious that the new place he would call home would be available exclusively to himself, and that meant the entire patch of land.

Procuring it had been a slightly tedious task because of the influence of the muggles but in the end, he had succeeded, and now, he was the proud owner of Brecqhou, one of the Channel Islands east of Guernsey. It was by no means a massive island but it was large enough, and most importantly, entirely his property now. There had already been a massive castle on the island which he'd had properly modified to have a modern outlook. The property had been ready for him to move in for over a week now and Harry had left the entire job of furnishing and decorating it to Narcissa who had been deeply honored to have been trusted with such a responsibility. The woman had been in her element as she went about taking care of everything to ensure the entire estate was befitting of someone of her Lord's station.

Meanwhile, it had been a few days since Madam Abbott's retirement and her replacement had been hard at work since joining the previous morning.

"Ah yes, that's right," he let out a soft groan of pleasure as Pansy's hot tongue rubbed circles along the head of his prick. The girl merely grinned at him proudly. "I knew hiring you would be a perfect. Now try to hollow out your mouth a bit more… ugh… just like that, yeah. Very good."

Blowing him off whenever he wanted was not the only utility he was deriving from the brunette. She was truly good at the job, undoubtedly aided by her desire to be of the most help to her Lord and Master. She kept all his paperwork and meetings organized as well as quickly took control of his schedules and appointments to make his work as streamlined as possible.

Additionally, she was a nice source of information on various shady activities that went on in Wizarding Britain, mostly concerning the muggle world, such as the known suspects, the middlemen who participated in any illegal activity, and the known hotspots, all of which now had tight auror presence.

Despite the obvious benefits, one of the biggest reasons why he had settled on Pansy as his assistant was to boost his already positive image in the wizarding society.

With one hand caressing her soft hair as she bobbed her head up and down, plunging her mouth onto his prick, Harry spread the day's edition of the Daily Prophet on his desk, smirking as he gazed at the front page spread. He was, as usual, in the limelight, with another illuminating article to his name.

THE MAN WHO WON EXTENDS AN OLIVE BRANCH: HIRES KNOWN PUREBLOOD SUPREMACIST AS ASSISTANT!

By Romilda Vane, Senior Correspondent

In an act that shows his huge heart and belief that even people who made bad choices can change, Harry Potter has stunned many by naming Pansy Parkinson his new assistant at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Ms. Parkinson was well known during the war as a Pureblood supremacist who supported Voldemort's cause.

While some have been calling it unbelievable that the legendary hero would give such an important role to a former Death Eater sympathizer, many others have spoken up in strong support of Mr. Potter's inspiring and brave move.

"This just proves again why Harry is so admired and respected," said Katie Bell, who was a year above Potter at Hogwarts. "He clearly sees the good in people and is willing to take a chance if he believes they can change for the better. It's that amazing heart of his that makes him so special."

Few could argue that Potter has not earned the unwavering trust of the wizarding world many times over through his selfless actions and sacrifices. His defeat of the most dangerous dark wizard in history and his role in bringing peace are reasons enough for his character and judgment to be trusted absolutely.

"We're talking about the guy who stepped up and saved us all from evil. If Harry thinks Pansy deserves this opportunity, then I believe him," said fellow Hogwarts alum Hannah Abbott, the granddaughter of Mr. Potter's former assistant Madam Martha Abbott. "He's the pure embodiment of fairness. If anyone can see the truth in others and give them a real second chance, it's Harry."

Indeed, who among us has even a fraction of the moral conviction that Mr. Potter has cultivated through unfathomable adversity and sacrifice? Time and again, he has championed merciful second chances and the highest road of reconciliation, from sparing the lives of remorseful enemies to extending friendship to those who once derided him.

"Harry has an unparalleled gift for seeing the potential for good in people, no matter their past mistakes," proclaimed Padma Patil, a dear friend since their Hogwarts days. "If he believes Parkinson deserves this opportunity, we should trust his peerless instincts without doubt."

Her twin was just as much in agreement.

"This is just so wonderfully Harry," said Parvati Patil, a former Gryffindor classmate who also accompanied Mr. Potter to the Yule Ball during the infamous Triwizard Tournament. "He has never given up on people or refused to see their potential for good, no matter their past. It's that amazing capacity for forgiveness that makes him so special."

Mr. Potter himself has previously spoken about his lofty, yet characteristic motivations behind several of his controversial actions. "The war is thankfully behind us. Now we must pursue the path of healing and unity more than ever before," he has said in several interviews. "My goal is to build a society where one's past doesn't permanently disqualify them from doing good and giving back. We can't keep holding onto the same resentments forever."

For many still struggling to move on from the deep scars and resentments of the war era, Potter's uplifting gestures of reconciliation and faith in people's ability to change clearly remain difficult to accept. His latest show of supreme empathy, understanding, and mature perspective appears no exception.

"I don't know if I can get past Parkinson trying to give Harry to the Death Eaters at Hogwarts," said a skeptical Neville Longbottom, who fought in the Battle of Hogwarts. "What she did was absolutely horrible. I just hope Harry's instincts are right about this one."

Yet such skepticism seems to discount something incredibly essential – Harry Potter's legendary wisdom, his unquestioned ability to see the fundamental goodness buried inside even the most imperfect souls. His miraculous gifts have spared and redeemed many lives, from repentant Death Eaters like Narcissa Malfoy to even beings as wretched as the remorseful Peter Pettigrew.

"Harry Potter is quite simply the most extraordinarily compassionate, empathetic and loving person you could ever hope to meet," praised Miss Fleur Delacour, the professor for Care of Magical Creatures at Hogwarts and also a long-standing friend of Mr. Potter. "His only priorities are to heal and to build understanding between all people and magical beings. If he believes in giving the woman a second chance at life, we absolutely must get behind him on that."

Clearly, the true message behind Potter's inspired choice cuts through any petty controversy. This enlightened beacon of human potential has reminded us yet again that society's path forward lies only in the supreme virtues of forgiveness, tolerance, and perpetual faith in the possibility of redemption.

The wizard who sacrificed everything to defeat the forces of hate now continues leading by the ultimate example. His just decision concerning Ms. Parkinson reinforces one immutable truth - the wizarding world remains incredibly blessed to bask in the glory of Harry Potter's divine wisdom, courage, and the incomparable spirit of all-encompassing empathy.

"Nicely done indeed, Romilda," Harry muttered with a self-satisfied grin. The woman had done an exceptional job as always of painting him in a positive light, and even though she was a bit overzealous, he could not fault her. He knew of her obvious crush on him and he saw no reason to not entertain her while also enjoying the perks of her position as Rita Skeeter 2.0. The woman had climbed up the ranks in the world of journalism even faster than Skeeter had, and she knew who she had to thank for her life being as smoothly sailing, and frankly, as rich as it was.

He was brought out of his musings when a knock sounded on the door to his office. He glanced up with a puzzled look on his face, wondering who it could be. He had no meeting scheduled at this hour since it was evening already and the Ministry must be slowly clearing up.

"Come in!" He called out, flicking his wand. The door opened and his eyes widened slightly when he saw who it was.

"She left already? Figures. I always thought Parkinson was the lazy type," Susan remarked with slight exasperation as she dropped into the chair in front of him.

Harry gripped her hair firmly, his teeth clenched, when Pansy's ministrations suddenly intensified. Clearly, the woman was not happy with Susan's little comment.

"What brings you here?" Harry asked, quickly composing himself as he smiled at Susan. "That same case?"

"Every single time you ask me why I come here. Why, I can't come visit you without any particular reason?" Susan asked as she made herself comfortable on the chair.

"I—ugh! I didn't mean that. You can come here whenever you want," Harry replied, hiding his initial groan behind a cough as he felt Pansy give a particularly strong suck around his length that was buried within her throat. The brunette was enthusiastic, and the prospect of doing it while Susan was sitting right in front of him must have further intensified her motivations here. Harry gently pressed her head, guiding her movements but Pansy was in a mood of her own.

"You okay? You're breathing heavily. You don't have fever, right?" Susan asked and quickly whipped her wand out, casting a remote detection charm. "Hmm. Nothing wrong. Just a higher than average heart rate. Why is that, I wonder?" She asked teasingly.

Harry rolled his eyes even though he helped himself to the vision she presented, clad in her formals that fit her curvaceous frame alluringly.

"Cut that already," he tried to keep his voice as even as possible, acting perfectly normal. He kept his eyes pointedly away from Pansy who was eagerly bobbing her head on his cock, blowing him off with all she was worth. There was no way he could have Susan getting curious about something that might be amiss and discover what it was. He discreetly waved his hand, applying a concentrated privacy ward under his waist for good measure. That would be enough to keep the brunette hidden.

"Oh? The great Harry Potter getting flustered by poor ol' me?" Susan asked, her teasing tone in full bloom now that she had sensed an opening. Gushing exaggeratedly, she exclaimed, "Merlin, I feel like the luckiest witch in the whole world!"

The redhead pushed her more than sizeable tits out, making them strain against her shirt much more than they normally did. Harry, being deepthroated by Pansy under his desk, was already breathing heavier than usual, and his reaction furthered Susan's amusement as she gazed at him with a smirk.

"I'm still surprised that you decided on Parkinson as your assistant, by the way," she remarked, straightening herself in the chair and sitting properly. She had teased him enough, she reckoned, and the reaction pleased her to no end.

"Really?" He drawled, his fingers gripping Pansy's hair firmly. The brunette jerked slightly at the mention of her name again but he kept her in check.

"Yeah, I would've thought the job of an assistant would be very much beneath the station of a spoilt brat like her," Susan replied with barely hidden disdain in her voice. "Now, I'm not doubting your judgment but I kinda agree with Neville there," she pointed toward the Daily Prophet. "You better know what you're doing. Don't be so forgiving that you bite off more than you can chew."

"Well, thanks for that vote of confidence, at least," Harry chuckled. "But appointing Pansy as my assistant was a tactical decision as well."

"Tactical, yeah," Susan chuckled. "I read the article, Harry. Quite a hold you've got over that Vane girl, if I must say so."

"Not my fault if she's had this crush on me since our Hogwarts days," Harry smirked. "She was thinking of sneaking me some candies laced with Amortentia, you know? This was back in our sixth year. Fortunately, she wasn't that big of an idiot and went with a normal love potion Fred and George sell in their shop, and even then, her little scheme failed. Must've been a bummer for her, I reckon."

Susan shook her head with a chuckle. "I'm sure the fact that you brought her as your date to that gala a few years ago has nothing to do with this hero worship of hers," she remarked. "Just like the Patil twins and Katie Bell. Quite a web you've crafted around."

"Got anything about Hannah and Fleur as well? They also praised me loads in that article," Harry remarked with a raised eyebrow, smirking.

"Harry Potter, I don't know about Delacour but you better not try to play with my best friend," Susan laughed.

"Why? She's still pining after a married man?"

"She grew out of that a long time ago. What world are you living in, Harry?" The redhead asked rhetorically. "And she was never pining after Neville. She just thought he did a great job during the war and admired his efforts. Everyone had seen how the bloke kept making moony eyes at Luna and how distraught he was when she got captured. It was all platonic."

"Yeah, those were tough times," Harry muttered, grunting when he felt Pansy's hand on his balls, fondling exuberantly. Susan glanced over at him and smiled, once again mistaking his grunt for him being emotional instead of what it was truly for.

"Coming back to Parkinson… even if she agreed to work as an assistant, being your assistant is not something I ever expected her to do," Susan continued, and Harry felt Pansy pull away from his cock, listening intently. "She was so eager to offer you up to those pricks. I can never forget that."

Harry sighed, gently stroking Pansy's head as he tried to reassure her. Her Lord and Master he might be, but he was a caring lord.

"That's all in the past, Sue," he replied. "I know it's only been a day but I can feel a change in her. She's not uttered a single slur so far. She's not made any disgusting face at me or anyone else, and you know we have muggleborns working in our department as well. No one has any complaints so far, and I believe there won't be any issues in the future. She's changed, and for the better."

He felt Pansy rub her head against his hand and it almost made him laugh. The woman was acting like a cat receiving caresses and head pats from its owner.

"Well, as you said, it's only been a day. Let her last a bit more and then we can make a proper judgment," Susan replied, earning a nod from Harry who smiled when he felt Pansy take him in her mouth once again.

"I've got to say though, that was a masterstroke. I've been hearing discussions over this move, and there is a small consensus so far that seems to be getting larger… they're saying we should start giving people from former death eater families a second chance. They're getting inspired by you once again," Susan gave him a fond smile. "See, I know enough about these political games to recognize when one's being played in front of me but you are leading by example, Harry. And I know you have our best interests at heart. Please know that you have my support in whatever you do."

Smiling, Harry reached forward and took Susan's hand, interlacing their fingers and squeezing softly.

"You don't need to tell me I have your support, Sue. You prove it day after day," he replied. "Still, it means a lot!"

Susan was staring at their joined hands with a fond smile on her face when she suddenly jerked her head toward his face, grinning.

"Wow, what was that?" She let out a small laugh as Harry let out a small grunt at the end. He could not help it. Pansy had just plunged her entire mouth onto his cock, taking him fully inside her as she rubbed her nose against his pelvis, her tight throat contracting around his length. If that was not enough, she also squeezed his balls and pressed his prostate at the same time, triggering a surprising climax that made him erupt deep inside her mouth. Harry did not have to glance down to know that the woman was eagerly swallowing every bit of his cum right now as he gazed at Susan who was staring at him with slightly widened eyes.

"Are you seriously okay, Harry?" She asked in concern. "You're breathing quite abnormally even now."

"I'm fine," Harry replied, his breathing slightly ragged as Pansy kept sucking firmly on his cock, coaxing every bit of his hot cum out of him. The brunette gulped down the entirety of his seed, gazing up at him with mirthful eyes visible through her eyelashes, not that Harry saw as he kept his attention firmly on the redhead sitting in front of him. "I guess I need to get a good night of sleep. It should all be nice and perfect tomorrow."

"Make sure to have a relaxing walk around the beach as well. I've heard it's soothing," she replied. "Still can't believe you got a whole island to yourself."

"Yeah," Harry chuckled. "It was a bit of a hassle getting it cleared, especially when the muggles got involved, but it's finally done. And before you ask, it's coming along great. I've gotten the castle modernized and improvements are underway."

"Don't worry, I'm not that pushy. I won't tell you to let me take care of the improvements because I'm a lady of a pureblood household and I have great taste, which I should tell you that I have, and that you should get some expert advice like that to make sure it's the best it can be," Susan replied with a shake of her head, prompting him to chuckle.

"Good to know."

The redhead merely shook her head in amusement. "Still, you better invite me over when it's all done. I've never been to a private island and I wanna see what it's like when completed."

"Which means getting the beach and the surrounding areas modified as well. You, woman, will burn my treasury," Harry said jokingly.

"Ha! As if! Who knows how many treasuries you really have…"

"Don't ask and I won't tell any lies," Harry chuckled. He had to hold back another groan when Pansy showed no sign of letting up. Even after gulping down all his cum, she was still swirling her tongue around his length, seemingly in no hurry to let up. Instead, it was as if Susan's presence gave her some extra motivation to keep at it.

"Nah, I won't. When are you leaving for France, by the way? The meeting is on the 21st, but you said you were planning on going a few weeks earlier?"

"Oh yeah, that's right," Harry nodded, feeling Pansy pause in her ministrations once again. "I plan to visit Bulgaria first. It's been a while since I met Viktor. We ought to discuss the team as well. That should take a few days. From there, it's France. I've got some business over there that I need to take care of."

"You're not planning on taking out the death eaters that fled across the Channel on your own, right?" Susan asked with slight concern. "You know it's foreign soil, Harry. Things could turn ugly."

"Don't worry, I won't do anything as long as they don't attack first," Harry assured the redhead, making her breathe in relief. "It's some other business."

"All right. So… you're leaving in a week?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "I'll get the property sorted out in the meantime."

"And I'll take care of the matters here in your absence. You can rest assured."

"I am assured that you will."

Susan smiled and glanced at her watch. "Ah, it's time already. I should be leaving now. Hannah and I are meeting up after so long today. She must be waiting already."

"You two met each other on Martha's farewell party," Harry deadpanned.

"Exactly. So long ago," Susan winked as she got up. "You too pack up and get some rest, okay?"

"Yes, my mother," Harry rolled his eyes. Chuckling, Susan waved and walked out of the office, shutting the door behind her. The moment the door closed, Harry grabbed Pansy roughly by her hair and hauled her out from under the desk. He lifted her like a ragdoll and deposited her on his desk where she lay on her back, her chest heaving under her formals as she breathed rapidly, an excited grin on her face.

"You seem to think you've got some power now that you're my assistant and my friend is here, eh?" He growled as he pinned her on the desk and roughly pushed her skirt upwards, revealing her soaked panties. Without any thought, he tore her lace panties off her, throwing the damp fabric away. Pansy giggled in delight as she gazed deeply into his eyes. "Have you forgotten your place, Pansy?"

"Umm… maybe?" She giggled again, her eyes filled with wanton lust as she winked saucily. "Why don't you show me my place, Master?"

"You were such a bitch today, Pansy," Harry growled, aligning his hard length against her quivering snatch and slapping the head against her clit, making her gasp and moan nastily. "You really deserve to be fucked like a bitch."

All Pansy did was grin excitedly as she watched her Lord and Master continuously rubbing the head of his prick all over her gushing quim, slathering the already spit-soaked cockhead with her vaginal juices, and her anticipation kept rising. She spread her legs apart even more, raising them high and wide as she presented him with one of the lewdest sights he had ever seen.

"Fuck me please, Master," she whispered. Harry gave her a smirk as he pressed the head of his cock against her opening and quickly popped inside, making her gasp. Slowly, he pushed forward, sliding inch after inch inside her. All the while, Pansy's wide eyes gazed at his length which slowly disappeared inside her pussy until he was buried to the hilt within her.

Pansy released the breath she had been holding and gasped out loud when he pulled back swiftly and slammed forward, burying himself to the hilt once again with a loud, wet squelch.

"Merlin!" She cried out and was immediately grabbed around the throat. Her eyes widened when she came face to face with a livid Harry who glared at her as he leaned over.

"The next time you take another wizard's name when you are with me, I'll show you just why you shouldn't anger me," he growled. Pansy's eyes filled with fear and she immediately began stammering her apologies.

"Uh… I-I am r-really s-sorry, M-Master!" Pansy cried out when Harry slammed forward once again, jolting the desk as he thrust inside her roughly. Suddenly, her eyes shot open wide when he flicked her clit as he thrust and a loud gasp tore its way out of her throat. Breathing heavily, Pansy stared at Harry who leaned back, once again standing straight as he gazed down at her.

"I am your Master, Pansy. I am your Lord. And in case you've forgotten, I am your God as well. You wanna exclaim? You wanna pray? You'll take my name and no one else's!" Harry hissed as he began thrusting in and out of her at a ferocious pace, and all Pansy could do was thrash and writhe on the table as her Lord, her Master, her God — in reality, her everything, had his way with her. She had been aroused for hours now and it had been escalating ever since she had begun sucking him off under his table in the presence of Bones. Coupled with the rough pounding he was giving her and the way he kept manipulating her sensitive clit, it did not take long for her first climax of the evening to shoot through her body.

She writhed and shook furiously, shrieking in a mix of lust, fear, and euphoria as she creamed around his cock. However, if she thought she would be getting any respite, she was sorely mistaken. She had made two blunders today, and her Master was within his rights to punish her as he deemed fit. It wasn't as if she could complain when her punishment was to be fucked until she was bowlegged and unable to even walk.

He fucked her roughly through her orgasm, powering through her vice grip around his length, and once her shivering stopped, he leaned over, slamming his lips against hers. Pansy moaned into the kiss as he plundered her mouth, and she tried to give back as much as she could. She couldn't match him though and all she could do was run her hands through his hair, pulling his face closer as she snogged him. He was still thrusting furiously inside her and slowly, she regained some control and started to rock her hips in tandem with his thrusts.

Harry pulled back from the kiss and regarded her well-fucked form. Her make-up was all askew and her clothes were crumpled. Harry saw no reason to let her keep them.

One powerful yank took care of her shirt. The buttons clattered across the floor as she grinned excitedly, her upper body exposed. Her heaving tits were encased in a matching lace bra which he quickly pulled down, exposing her mounds. Leaning forward, he wrapped his lips around her right nipple, sucking and nibbling furiously, and repeated the motions with the left, coating both in his saliva.

"Hold your legs in place," he instructed while he fucked her and leaned over. He grabbed both her tits and squeezed firmly, making her mewl and sigh, and began to suck and nibble on them in earnest. Every few seconds he would alternate between the two while he fucked her and by the time he was done, her nipples were all swollen and throbbing red.

"You've been a bad, bad slut today, Pansy," Harry whispered as he slapped her tits one after the other, making her writhe on the table even more. "I know how dirty your mind is. You were wishing Susan found out about you blowing me off, right? If gives you thrill, doesn't it? You filthy bitch!"

He slapped her tits again for good measure as he furiously drilled inside her. All the while, Pansy kept crying and moaning in pleasure, agreeing to every accusation and question he posed.

"I'm going to make sure you're discovered one day, Pansy," Harry growled. "I'm going to give you your public slut moment. You were fearful of being seen as even more of a criminal, eh? Guess being seen as a slut works just fine."

All his degrading talk coupled with his rough fucking was enough to send her over the edge once again and Pansy let out another shrill cry as she came. Her entire body shook as her orgasm coursed through her and Harry kept her firmly in place, not letting her move an inch as she kept shuddering in the same spot. All the while, he kept fucking her without respite.

Pansy had lost all sense of what was around her when her second orgasm coursed through her and she was only distantly aware of being turned around and bent over as her Lord and Master claimed her from behind. Her legs felt powerless and she would have fallen over if not for his firm hold on her waist as he kept her standing in front of himself. He had told her he would treat her like the bitch that she was, and he had done exactly that.

As Harry kept fucking his assistant without any inhibitions whatsoever, making sure she was left powerless by the time he was done, he remained acutely unaware of a certain someone who had remained standing outside the door to his office all the while, having heard it all. In any other situation, hearing what was happening inside the office would have been impossible, but she happened to be someone close to the Director of the DMLE, had clearance as an auror, and in his haste to show the bitch her place, the Director had not bothered with the additional privacy charms which kept everyone unaware of the happenings inside the office, knowing that the Ministry had already gone vacant.

The woman's breathing was labored as her fingers furiously thrust in and out of her gushing quim in tandem with the sounds of lewd and wet thrusts she could hear through the door. Her other hand groped her large tits over her clothes as she chewed on her lower lip sultrily, feeling her horniness spiking with every rough treatment her friend showered on his new assistant.

Parkinson's loud moans made her shiver, but she could not relent, not when she was this close. She chased her orgasm, knowing the woman inside the office was about to have her third.

With a loud howl, Pansy shuddered around her master's manhood as she came for the third time, and this triggered the other woman's climax as well. She let out a gasp that she quickly smothered, her hand firmly clasped over her mouth, as her fingers were flooded with her release. Her legs shook as she slowly slumped on the assistant's desk, her heart thudding within her chest, and her half-lidded eyes gazing blearily at the closed door, the occupants inside blissfully unaware of her presence.

Inside the room, Harry slowly pulled out his pulsing cock from Pansy's creampied pussy, shooting the remaining load over her thick, bulbous arse. Breathing deeply, he fixed his clothes and regarded the crumpled witch slumped over the desk.

"I'm getting back now. Fix the office properly before you leave," he instructed as he stepped inside the fireplace, and vanished in a swirl of emerald flames.

TBC.

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Chapter Text

Hermione Granger bit her lip in indecision, her mind in turmoil, as she ran her eyes over the parchment that had been delivered to her a few minutes ago. The writing was familiar, and it invoked memories in her mind that she had been struggling with for the past week.

Unbidden, the events that had taken place between her and Harry played out, and she didn’t know how she’d become that person in front of him. It had plagued her for days now, her nights almost sleepless, and she had no one to talk to about this disorder that she knew she had now.

Even now when she was trying so hard to cling on to the barest of her sanity, she could feel it slipping away, the mere sight of his handwriting invoking memories and desires inside her that she never even knew existed.

She had acknowledged him as her master, as her lord, and as someone who had every right to every inch of her body, mind, and soul. She had agreed to her subservience in front of him, believing that her place was on her knees in front of him. The voice of reason within her had been buried at the time when she had allowed him to use her as he pleased, and it had remained buried all the while as he told her to grow.

It emerged only when she was away from him for an extended period, and whenever it did, she would be filled with both mortification and confusion. Her mind was a mess, and she failed to differentiate between these two sides of her personality that now warred within herself. And in the midst of all of this, her pathetic husband remained his usual self – uncaring, ignorant, and angry at her for not cooking him a freaking dinner.

Hermione shook her head as she took a deep breath and slowly folded the parchment open, her eyes scanning the words etched onto it.

Come to 4 Privet Drive at 5 sharp. I hope you’ve done what I told you. I’d hate to be disappointed again, so do make sure of that.

That was all. Curt as always.

Hermione glanced over at the clock as she absently folded the parchment. It was a few minutes to 1 o’clock, and she sighed as she closed her eyes, trying to come to terms with who she truly was and what she really wanted. She knew she would lose control of herself in a couple of hours, just as she had lost control the last time she had been in his presence, and she desperately tried to think of something that might be of any help to her.

What she did not realize, or rather she did not want to accept, was that both personalities were parts of hers, and she was struggling to accept the truth that she easily could if she tried to. Harry’s magic was also hard at work, warping her mindset and constantly making her clash against herself to make her even more malleable, and he always loved the result it brought out within her and her behavior. This time would not be any different.

A couple of hours passed and Hermione emerged from her room. Her eyes immediately fell on Ron who sat on the couch, his eyes trained on the ceiling, unblinking. The rustle of fabric caught his attention and he shifted his gaze over to her, his jaw tightening at the sight of her.

Hermione stared at him expectantly, wondering if he had anything to say to her. However, Ron chose to remain silent as he leaned back against the couch and resumed his little staring session. The brunette gazed at him for a few seconds before she twisted on the spot and apparated away.

The loud crack made Ron jerk slightly and with a sneer, he stared at the spot Hermione had just stood at. He still did not know what her problem was but it showed no sign of resolving itself. He was in no mood to reach out first and talk it out with her either. It was her fault, and she had to be the one to accept her mistake, or she could stay the way she had been for the past couple of weeks.

Drumming his fingers on the couch, he thought about something that had been troubling him for a few weeks now but had been resolved on its own. He had screwed up massively with that bet and had found himself deep in the red. He had freaked out when he saw just how much he happened to owe BetVault, and he had fully expected them to take him to the cleaners for every knut. However, weeks had passed and nothing happened until finally, they sent him a letter, telling him that his account had been closed and that they would not engage with him any further.

Ron had little idea how these things worked, but he was at least relieved that he didn’t have to worry about that money anymore. He had been promised the result which turned out to be false and as a result, he had lost a lot, that much was true, but at least he was not bankrupt. Losing his account with them was a much more pleasant result than he had been expecting.

There were other companies out there, after all. And all he needed was some extra gold to get started once again.

-Break-

A loud crack of apparition echoed in the silent neighborhood of Privet Drive and as if on reflex, the woman began walking toward the designated house, her fists clenched tightly on the beige overcoat she had over her dress which was rather… risqué. She could not have walked out in front of her husband in that dress without rousing his suspicions.

Curiously, the lights were off inside the house and it roused her suspicions. Her wand shot in her hand instantly as she slowed her footsteps, casting a silencing charm for good measure. The war had taught her a lot, and if this was something shady, then she was confident that she could hold her own and perhaps even get the drop on whoever might be hiding. A quick Homenum Revelio told her that there was only one person inside and although she wanted to believe it was Harry, the situation right now seemed different. Something told her he was not inside.

The person was inside the living room, and Hermione crept forward, taking the longer way through the unkempt lawn to enter from the back entrance. As she got closer, she burst through, casting a powerful Lumos Maxima to surprise whoever it was. The living room was bathed in a bright silvery glow that slowly faded, and Hermione’s eyes quickly refocused.

The person she found inside made her freeze in her steps, and wide-eyed, Hermione stared at a smirking Pansy Parkinson lounging on the couch.

“Hello, Granger. Or I guess it’s Weasley now,” Pansy said. “Welcome. Welcome. You are… right on time. Good girl.”

“Parkinson,” Hermione muttered distastefully, her lips curled in a sneer. “What are you doing sneaking here in Harry’s house?”

“I could say the same about you, Weasley,” Pansy replied, smirking. “And sneaking? I’m just sitting here. You were the one sneaking around like a little thief.”

Hermione bristled, her glare intensifying as she kept her wand firmly by her side, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.

“Just because Harry’s lost his mind and hired you as his servant, it doesn’t give you the right to barge into his property,” Hermione retorted, her voice having a hint of a growl to it. “I always knew you had no propriety, but it looks like you’ve not learned a thing about how respectable people should behave if you’re still up to your pathetic tricks.”

Pansy laughed, to Hermione’s surprise. Chuckling, she gazed at her and replied, “You know, Weasley, for a pathetic little slut, you sure have a lot of words for others. I always knew you were a judgmental bitch and it’s so pleasant to see you’ve not changed a bit either. Or maybe you have… the stuck-up bint that you were would’ve never thought of doing what you’ve done. Congratulations, you grew some.”

“What did you just call me!?” Hermione hissed, her eyes narrowing. Her wand was tightly clasped in her hand and she was having this massive urge to curse this bitch to hell and she was confident that she could take her down before the woman could even react. Only the flimsy self-control she had left was keeping her arm down.

“Did you develop a hearing ailment, Weasley?” Pansy asked with a sneer. “I didn’t think he’d fucked you so hard your ears stopped working. You do know what I’m talking about, right?”

Hermione stilled, her breath hitching as she gazed, wide-eyed, at a smirking Pansy Parkinson who remained comfortably lounged on the couch, her amused gaze trained on her. She wanted to decline, to curse Parkinson, both verbally and with her wand, but she remained frozen on the spot.

Pansy continued, “You know, I wouldn’t have thought you’d ever have the guts to do something like this… fucking another man behind your husband’s back. But then, I guess it’s not that surprising that you cuckolded your wastebin of a husband. It’s must’ve been hell being married to that shit, I reckon. You have my sympathies.”

“Shut your trap, Parkinson,” Hermione growled.

“Touched a nerve, did I?” Pansy gasped mockingly. “Oh, I’m so sorry to hurt your little sensitivities, Weasley. But you see, I can’t stand hypocritical bitches who think they’re so above the rest when they are nothing more than cheating, sniveling, backstabbing lowlives who should stay on their knees in front of their superiors.”

Hermione stood fuming, glaring at Pansy who was having a lot of fun with her. She remained seated comfortably on the couch, gazing up at the other brunette and she knew perfectly well what she must want to do to her right now.

“Now, I’d love to keep mocking you for all night long but we both know what you’d rather be doing instead, so let’s get going, shall we?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t seriously think I’d really sneaked in here, did you?” Pansy asked with a chuckle. “Who do I work for, Weasley?”

Hermione’s eyes widened.

“Yeah, my boss told me to escort his slut to his new place where he’ll meet her,” Pansy said, her lips quirked smugly. “You can’t imagine how funny it was when he told me about you. Goody-two-shoes Granger turned Weasley, and now… Harry Potter’s personal plaything. Quite a promotion, I must say.”

Hermione fumed, gritting her teeth, and all it did was amuse Pansy even more.

“You’ve thought up the name he asked you to, right?” She asked. “It should be sexy and slutty enough to fit your role. For your sake, I hope it’s something good. You wouldn’t want him to be angry with you… well, assuming you’re not into that,” she chuckled.

Immediately, Hermione was assaulted by the memory of Harry degrading her, spanking her, mocking and insulting her, and how she had felt throughout it all. Something must’ve shown on her face as Pansy let out another mocking laugh.

“No way!” She exclaimed as she stood up, punching her upper arm. Hermione glared as she rubbed the spot, and Pansy merely grinned, unbothered. “You really are into that, hmm? Good for you. I’m sure you’ll get a real kick out of it in the future as well. Come on now, we’re already pushing time as it is.”

Before Hermione could react, Pansy grabbed her arm roughly and pulled her behind her toward the fireplace.

“Be sure to not mess it up. Wouldn’t want my Master’s little slut to fall into the Channel and be eaten by some wild beast in the sea,” Pansy mocked, and Hermione’s eyes widened as she registered what the woman had called Harry. Before she could speak up though, Pansy threw the power and enunciated, “Potter Castle!”

Emerald flames swirled around her, whisking her away as Hermione stared at the fireplace, her eyes glowing as the fire surged and slowly subsided. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself and stepped inside the fireplace, vanishing within seconds.

-Break-

It was daylight when she appeared at her destination and Hermione glanced around as she emerged from the fireplace. She found herself in an ornate room decorated lavishly that oddly contained only a fireplace.

Pansy stood in front of the fireplace, presumably waiting for her, and the woman gestured for her to follow.

Lips pursed, Hermione walked behind the other woman as they made their way to the exit of the room and Hermione blinked as the sound of waves reached her before she saw it.

The sea was vast, as far as the eyes could see, and the approaching sunset cast their surroundings in an orange glow as they stepped onto the pristine sand of the private island Harry owned. Despite her emotions, Hermione felt her heart race with anticipation. Her eyes fell on the massive estate looming in the distance, and the sight seemed magnificent. The castle gleamed in the sunlight as they walked.

The path leading up to the estate was lined with towering palm trees, their branches swaying gently in the island breeze. Hermione could not help but marvel at her surroundings.

Exotic flowers in every color imaginable dotted the lush green lawns that started well beyond the castle, their fragrance intermixing with the smell of the sea. Elegant statues and fountains were strategically placed all around, each one a masterpiece in its own right. Harry had certainly not spared any expenses, that much was for sure.

As they got closer to the castle, Hermione was struck by its sheer size. It was not Hogwarts, but for the purpose of residence, it was an overkill.

The main building of the castle stretched far, its walls a dazzling white that glowed in the waning sunlight and were adorned with intricate carvings and accents that captured the light and sparkled like precious gemstones depending on the time of the day. The windows were towering, their glass so clear it might as well be invisible, reflecting its beautiful surroundings.

Pansy merely watched Hermione’s reactions with barely hidden amusement, her pride for her Lord and Master reigning supreme as the other woman gazed around in appreciation and wonder. Her Lord and Master deserved the best, and this entire island had to reflect his grandeur.

They approached the massive doors that seemed to dwarf them, and even those fascinated Hermione. The precious gemstones and metals that constituted the entire structure signaled the unparalleled luxury that surrounded them and lay ahead inside the castle.

As they stepped forward, the massive doors swung open, allowing them entry. The moment Hermione stepped into the foyer, she felt her breath get knocked out of her lungs. Wide-eyed, she stared at the massive cavernous entryway with the ceiling so high she almost felt dizzy. It depicted scenes from the war, and Hermione keenly noted the absence of all those who Harry felt wronged by. A massive chandelier that must be the side of the dragon Harry had fought in the Triwizard Tournament hung at the center, its millions of crystalline shards casting rainbows across the room.

Beneath her feet, the floor was a work of art in itself. Intricate mosaics crafted from rare marbles and precious stones formed patterns that seemed to shift and change as they moved. Hermione felt almost scared to walk on it, afraid that she was insulting a priceless masterpiece with every step.

“You’re gawking,” Pansy’s amused yet snarky voice made Hermione jerk and she turned to glare at the brunette who kept staring straight ahead. “Come. You’ll hate to keep him waiting.”

Hermione remained silent as Pansy led the way through the corridor until they reached what she believed was the room where Harry must be waiting for them. The sight as they entered left her more awestruck than the last.

The room was a vision of gold and cream, with mirrors lining the walls to create an illusion of infinite space. In the middle was a massive set of couches where she saw none other than Harry sitting comfortably with a woman she didn’t recognize sitting sideways in his lap.

They turned around when they heard them and Hermione saw Pansy grin brightly as she eagerly rushed over, burrowing herself against his side. Hermione felt a flash of irritation pass through her as she saw them exchange a passionate kiss.

Harry squeezed Pansy as he pulled away and he wrapped his arms around the two women snuggled up against him, his gaze shifting over to the only woman standing.

He raised an eyebrow as he took in her attire, and Hermione quickly got to work. His eyes gleamed in satisfaction when she took off her overcoat and let it drop to the floor where it vanished instantly, leaving her clad in a red sparkling dress with bare shoulders and full sleeves. The dress strained against her tits and rump, coming down to the middle of her thighs, and as Harry kept his eyes running over her form, he was pleased to see her nipples hardening in arousal.

It had been quite some time since they had last met, and he expected her behavior to have changed slightly. His magic was still working on her, after all. However, after what he had in mind for her, he was confident that she would be a completely changed woman by the time he was done with her.

“And you are…?” He asked expectantly, and Hermione knew what he wanted. He had asked her to think of a name for her new self… her old identity belonging to her only in an official capacity.

She knew what he wanted from her. He wanted to convert her into a slut. His little plaything to do with as he wished. And the name had to be one that corroborated that image. For the past few days, she had been searching for names that most of the strippers, escorts, and prostitutes used, and as much as it disgusted her to degrade herself in such a manner, she could not deny the thrill that also shot through her at the thought.

Clearing her throat, Hermione whispered, “I-I’m Harmony, M-Master…”

Harry’s eyes gained an amused gleam as he gazed at Harmony along with Narcissa and Pansy, both of whom whispered something in his ears. He nodded absently, his eyes raking over the newly-introduced Harmony’ form. With a nod, he indicated for her to approach him, smirking when she followed his instruction instantly.

“On your knees,” he ordered when she came to a stop right in front of him, and the brunette obliged with her entire body shaking in what Harry believed to be anticipation. She seemed desperate to have his cock inside her once again and this proximity to him had inflamed her desires once again. He could see it in her demeanor. Her hesitation had given way to excitement, and as he gazed into her brown orbs, he could see that the slut was slowly crawling out once again.

It was a fun game to play with her psyche, keeping her confused and on her toes all the while.

“A bit too lazy, aren’t you?” Harry asked, sneering, as he gazed at the woman on her knees. “Harmony? That’s the best you could come up with?”

Hermione looked down, a hint of shame creeping up as she realized she had disappointed him.

“My Lord,” Pansy purred, stroking his chest adoringly. “Weasley here was always a bookworm. Creativity was never her forte. The fact that she even came up with a name is too much from her.”

Hermione fisted her dress, her teeth gritted at Pansy’s disdainful remark. Her eyes were downcast and she was sure that the woman must be sneering at her right now.

“You do have a point,” Harry muttered, making Pansy grin. “Well, I guess it’d have to do if that’s what she’s come up with. Harmony it is then. I can’t lie, that’s a fitting name for a slut. It’d suit you.”

Hermione remained silent, prompting Narcissa to sneer at her.

“You are supposed to thank your Master for your kind words.”

Hermione jerked slightly, the squirming she had been feeling in her lower belly since coming into this room intensifying.

“T-Thank you, Master,” she whispered.

“A raw specimen, don’t you think, Cissa?”

“Inexperienced, more like, My Lord,” Narcissa replied. “Nothing a few sessions can’t solve. It isn’t as if someone like her deserves to have your sacred mark on her to accelerate the process.”

“Hmm. Too right, dear,” Harry nodded absently, stroking the woman’s bare thigh as she caressed his scalp, smiling. Turning toward Harmony once again, Harry continued, “I’m sure you’re curious as to why I’ve called you here.”

Harmony merely nodded, not knowing whether she could manage to get a coherent reply out. The stimulation was getting more intense, and she could feel her true self slipping away once again. Her arousal was skyrocketing, a terrifying itch developing in her nether regions that had only one cure.

Slowly, she glanced up, only to find all three staring at her with barely hidden amusement, and she knew they were perfectly aware of what was going on with her.

Recalling what he had just said, she nodded.

“Yes, Master.”

Harry smirked as he gently pushed Pansy away, making her pout. With Narcissa still in his lap, he stood up, holding her in his arms. The blonde gazed at him questioningly, and Harry gave her a teasing wink.

“My dear Cissa here has done a wonderful job in decorating this massive estate. It truly looks like a place befitting of someone like me,” Harry began, and Narcissa grinned brightly at him, proud beyond measure. He gazed at her and smirked. She had every right to be proud of herself. “Agreed that there’s a bit of work left, especially around the island, but I’m sure she will do as good a job with it as well.”

“It’s my honor to serve you so well, Master,” Narcissa replied with utter devotion.

“As it should be,” Harry agreed. “And for that, I believe you deserve a reward.”

Pansy and Harmony watched curiously as Harry turned to the other couch and gently lowered Narcissa on top of it. The blonde gazed at him questioningly and with a smirk, Harry turned toward Harmony who had remained on her knees.

“I want you to crawl over here on your knees and pleasure my Cissa as you would pleasure me,” he ordered, and everyone’s eyes widened. “She’s done a brilliant job and deserves to be treated.”

“My Lord?” Narcissa asked curiously.

“Remember what we discussed last time, Harmony?” Harry asked, keeping his eyes trained on the brunette who remained on her knees, staring up at him. “About you gaining some worthwhile experience? Well, this is where you start. Be sure to treat Cissa well, you hear me?”

Harmony stared at Harry for a long moment before shifting her gaze to the young woman who she failed to recognize. She must be someone Harry had met during his years when he went from one woman to another, she assumed. The woman was stunning, she had to admit as much, and quite clearly devoted to Harry, just as she’d discovered Parkinson was.

“You’re really slow, you know that?” Pansy muttered in exasperation as she stood up and grabbed Harmony by her arm, unceremoniously dragging her over to Narcissa who exchanged a glance with her Lord and smirked at the brunette.

“Get to work, Harmony,” she said mockingly and spread her legs.

Harmony was breathing deeply, both under the stimulation of Harry’s magic and her inner desires that were emerging once again with a particular vehemence, not pleased at all after being repressed for so many days now. As if she had developed a split personality, the brunette grinned up at Harry who smirked and took his seat on the couch to Narcissa’s right, with Pansy taking her spot on her Lord’s lap, all watching the new slut as she reached forward and spread Narcissa’s legs even wider, gazing at her covered womanhood.

Her probing fingers zeroed in, touching Narcissa’s folds over the lacy fabric, and slowly, she pushed it to the side, exposing her bald pussy.

“You are free to treat her however you’d like,” Harry whispered in Narcissa’s ear as he dropped a faint kiss on her skin, smirking when the blonde turned her head and kissed him firmly on the lips instead. Pulling back slowly, she smiled at him wickedly and turned to Harmony who leaned forward and took a deep sniff of her aroma.

There was something wickedly arousing about this feeling of power that her Lord and Master allowed her to have over other witches. Pansy had been the first, and she’d had a lot of fun making her treat her to a nice session. Now, it was this woman’s turn, and Narcissa felt even more strongly about her. She had betrayed her Lord and Master at his lowest, and he could’ve possibly died if he had been someone else. It was only because it was her Lord and Master, the most powerful wizard to ever live, that he had not only survived but flourished.

There were two women Narcissa hated with every fiber of her being, and the woman on her knees in front of her right now was the second. The betrayer would be reduced to a plaything, and she would help her Lord and Master realize his vision in every manner possible.

“Get to work already, slut,” she hissed, grabbing the woman roughly by her hair. “Our precious time is not for you to waste. Take those off already.”

Harmony nodded obediently, feeling her excitement rise inwardly at the treatment. Her trembling hands lifted once again, reaching out, when she cried out as the woman pulled her hair roughly once again.

“Didn’t my Lord tell you to treat me as you would treat him? How did you do it the first time?”

Harmony realized it instantly and she gave an understanding nod, sighing when the hand gripping her hair relaxed slightly. She leaned forward, breathing in the aroma once again as she took the blonde’s knickers between her teeth and tugged, slowly dragging them down. It was a bit more complicated due to the way she was sitting, but after a little while, she had managed to drag it down enough that all Narcissa needed to do was shake her legs to get her knickers off.

Harmony’ eyes were fixated on the bald pussy that was entirely exposed now, the pink petals glistening with her juices as Narcissa felt her Lord sensuously kissing her on the side of her neck. Her eyes spied him fondling Pansy’s tits as the woman rubbed her pussy against his member, and her arousal spiked even further.

“Do I really need to tell you everything, you dumb whore?” Narcissa let out a groan as her Lord kissed her firmly, making her breath hitch. “Lick me out already!”

Harmony took a deep breath as she leaned forward and gingerly ran her wet tongue along her slit, tasting her. She slowly applied more pressure, rotating her tongue over her pussy lips, as Narcissa kept her hand fisted on her hair, keeping her in place.

The sensation was nowhere close to when her Lord ate her out, or even her fellow servant Pansy, for that matter, but it would do. She could see the woman had no experience, and it was what her Lord had asked this woman to gain. He had plans for her – grand plans that would make her evolve, and Narcissa could lie and say that she was not looking forward to how this dull flower would bloom.

She pressed her face on her pussy further, and a small sigh escaped her when her Lord slid the straps of her top down her shoulders, freeing up her large, perky tits. His tongue joined the fray, licking and nibbling on her nipples one after the other, and all Narcissa could do was run her fingers through his hair adoringly.

The brunette was still eating her out, and she had gotten much more eager in the few minutes that had passed. Her tongue was more intense as it flicked and rolled around her lips.

“You’re doing fine. There’s a lot of room for improvement, but this is passable,” Narcissa sighed, ignoring how the brunette preened slightly as she met her Lord in the middle of another passionate kiss. She felt her resume eating her out and lost herself to the sensations.

Harmony slithered her tongue up and down the slit, probing with the tip of her tongue when she thought about letting her fingers join the fray. Her digits reached up and started to gently rub all over the engorged bundle of nerves resting right on top of her pussy.

Narcissa’s breath hitched as the woman began to stimulate her most sensitive spot and she wanted to let out a loud moan, but her Lord had other ideas. He firmly kissed her, swallowing her moans and every other verbal response she had. His large hands mauled her tits, claiming them as they were rightfully his, and Harmony kept rubbing her clit before descending to her wet folds, slowly probing her entrance with her fingers.

She was demanding, she was forceful, and under her Lord’s ministrations, she was rougher. Her grip on her hair was firm as she pulled at it, but Harmony kept eating her out and fingering her with relentless enthusiasm. It was as if the woman was deriving as much pleasure from this as she was.

Suddenly, without warning, her Lord sent a pulse of his magic straight into her mark, and Narcissa froze. Her grip on both tightened significantly as she came all over Harmony’ face. The brunette jerked slightly at the surprising release but Narcissa refused to let go, keeping her face against her gushing folds.

Harmony had no choice but to keep eating and licking her out despite her release, and she kept at it when she felt a presence behind her.

“You can either lap it all up, or you can let it smear your face,” Pansy whispered in her ear. “I can guarantee you’ll love both.”

Harmony, fully aroused, chose the former and she hungrily swallowed it all, much to Pansy’s amusement as she watched the woman whom she hated so much eat Narcissa’s release.

She had never expected such depravity from Hermione fucking Weasley, but her Lord and Master had proven that he could bring anyone down to her knees, especially those who had wronged him.

This was only the beginning though. Her Lord was leaving for Bulgaria the next day, where he planned to spend a few days before heading over to France for the ICW conference. He was planning to take this slut with him.

Pansy did not know what he wanted with her, and it was not her place to question her Lord’s motives. He had told her and Narcissa to keep developing the island and its facilities in the time he would be away, and that was what they would do.

However, she was confident of one thing. Her Lord had plans for this bitch, and by the time he was done with her, she would be a completely changed woman, with this little split personality issue of her a thing of the distant past. No longer would she be a slut as well as the prim and proper Hermione Weasley. She would be Harmony, the slut. That was all.

TBC.

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Chapter Text

“Come over here.”

Harmony obeyed instantly and crawled over to her Master on her hands and knees and she stared up at him obediently as he reached down and fisted her hair, pulling her head upright so that she was staring him in his eyes.

His emerald orbs gleamed triumphantly as they gazed at her, and he loosened his grip a bit, pulling her closer so that her cheek was resting against the inside of his bare thigh.

It had been over two hours since she had arrived on the island and by now, all four of them were naked. She had pleasured both the women before her Master had taken her as was his right. Her knees felt sore, and so did her inflamed womanhood after being used by her Master, but there was nothing that she wanted more.

“I see you’re taking to this new endeavor pretty nicely, Harmony,” Harry began, stroking her cheek softly with the back of his fingers, smirking when he saw her preen under the praise. “But this is only the beginning. To truly become what I know you can be, you need to both broaden your horizons and gain the much-needed experience that will propel you to greater heights. It also goes without saying that it would please me, your Master, immensely if you embrace this side of yours that we both know lives inside you.”

Harmony stared up at her Master in adoration and all she could do was nod, her eyes filled with devotion.

Narcissa and Pansy both were draped over their Lord, caressing his chest as they watched on with no little amusement. They knew their Lord had grand plans for this wretched woman and they could not wait to see those plans coming to fruition. She was someone they hated with every fiber of their beings, and to see her humbled and brought low was such a fitting tale that they couldn’t be not excited about even if they tried.

“Don’t just sit there like a dumbass, woman! Acknowledge your Master’s words!” Cissa chided firmly, and it was as if her voice cracked like a whip as Harmony jolted, her eyes widening.

“Yes, Master… My apologies, Master…” She stammered, pausing as she recalled what she should say. “I… I agree… Pleasing you… Making you proud… It would be my honor, Master…”

“As it should be,” Harry nodded. “Now stand up and take five steps back.”

Curious, Harmony obeyed and got to her feet, stepping back gingerly. They could all see how inflamed her womanhood was after being taken so roughly by her Master and she was constantly quivering in place.

“She still hasn’t gotten used to this,” Pansy murmured, her hand automatically gravitating toward her Lord’s cock. Her fingers wrapped around it, stroking gently, as Harry caressed her naked arse.

“It’d take some time, I reckon. She’d never had something quite like this inside her, sheltered princess that she was,” Cissa replied.

“Quite,” Harry added as he gazed at Harmony who stood in front of them, naked. Her body had quite a collection of marks that added to her depraved beauty and made her more appealing to them, but they had a job to do here.

“Your observations, Cissa?” Harry asked as the blonde gazed at the woman with critical eyes.

“Those tits need massive improvement, My Lord,” she replied instantly. “They are rather… unremarkable for our purposes.”

“Her entire figure could do with improvement, Master,” Pansy supplied helpfully. “She looks more like a teenager just out of puberty than a woman in her twenties.”

“She’d be rejected on sight if she went like this,” Cissa nodded.

“Hmm…” Harry mused. “I’d hate to give her any permanent benefits though. We all know she doesn’t deserve it.”

“Make it conditional then,” Cissa whispered against his neck. “She will keep those boons if she keeps pleasuring you. The more obedient she is to you, the better things would be for her. We all know she’d hate to lose those looks once she has them.”

Harry thought about Cissa’s suggestion, wondering what would be the best way to implement it.

“You know what? I think you make a great point,” he replied. Turning to the blonde, he pulled her into a kiss and the woman all but melted in his embrace. With a wanton sigh, she pulled back and allowed her hand to join Pansy’s around his prick, stroking him gently. Even with both their hands wrapped around him, they could not cover the entire area, and he was not even hard yet.

“You’ve got to give this to me tonight, My Lord,” she requested with pleading eyes. “You have no idea how torturous it was to see you pound away inside this bitch while I could do nothing but watch.”

“Same!” Pansy chimed in, pushing herself against her Lord, and both Harry and Narcissa glanced at her in amusement.

“Soon,” Harry promised and turned back to Harmony who had been standing there, watching them converse with each other behind what could only be a privacy ward, getting more anticipatory and curious about their intentions with her now. As far as she could think, there was nothing more they could want from her.

“Harmony,” Harry began, and the woman straightened, staring at him expectantly. “I want you to be honest with me here. No lies, no hesitation. Just plain, simple truth. Any problem?”

The brunette shook her head, earning a nod from Harry.

“Do you feel insecure about your looks?”

An uneasy feeling overcame her as she gazed at Harry and the expectant raised eyebrow did not help matters. Inadvertently, her eyes shifted over from Pansy to Cissa, lingering at places for a few seconds, and although it was enough of an answer, they wanted her to verbalize it. Accepting something in your own words was the first way to show that you wanted to improve, after all.

“I don’t like my lack of curves, Master,” she whispered, shame and humiliation coursing through her.

“Do you feel jealous of Cissa and Pansy here?”

“Yes, Master,” she whispered.

Harry nodded as he regarded her.

“Tell you what? I’m willing to rectify that for you.”

Harmony’ head snapped up and her eyes widened as she regarded him. Harry merely stared at her and nodded.

“I’m willing you give you a fix for it. Not a permanent one, but one based on conditions,” Harry continued. “It will be connected to my magic. The more you keep me happy with you, the longer you can keep this boon that I’ll be giving you. And no, it won’t be something as trashy as a glamor charm, although we’ll be using it a bit here and there for what I’ve got planned for you. But that’d come later. What about it? Do you want it?”

“Yes!”

The woman was so quick to accept that it took all three of them by surprise for a moment. Harry took a moment of pause to stare at her, watching how visibly excited she looked, and he wondered how deeply this insecurity of hers had been rooted inside her. She had jumped on the chance of a solution that, although not permanent, was one in all but name only. After all, she would keep the boons for as long as she kept her Master happy, and she had all the intention to carry through. She would be damned if she let him be disappointed in her.

Amused, Harry gazed at her and nodded.

“Come over here,” he instructed calmly and she stepped forward, stopping between his legs, and her eyes immediately fell on his erection being stroked by both Cissa and Pansy. “Open your legs, Harmony.”

Harmony blinked and nodded, spreading her legs apart and she gasped when he leaned forward and pushed two fingers inside her throbbing womanhood. Her pussy, still red and pulsating, eagerly welcomed his digits and she shivered as a tingling, wet sensation coursed through her. Suddenly, she hissed as she started to feel the wetness sliding under her skin all over her sensitive spots, starting with her folds and traveling all over her rear, her belly and waist, her legs, her torso, her arms, and her breasts.

“Much more acceptable now,” Cissa remarked with an approving nod and Harmony gazed at the blonde woman before she glanced down. Her eyes widened as she took herself in.

She had filled out in all the right spots and as she straightened, she could feel the difference in how her larger tits required more effort on her part. Wide-eyed, she stared at Harry, only to find him staring back at her with an amused look.

“I… I can’t… I don’t know… w-what─”

“That would be enough,” Harry cut her off, lifting a hand to stall her, and Harmony immediately shut up, her head bowed in reverence. “You will own this body now, and you will keep owning it as long as you keep me satisfied. I hope you know what that entails?”

“Absolutely!” Harmony nodded emphatically with her hands folded in front of her right under her bigger tits that did indeed look enticing.

As Harry took her in, he had to admit that Hermione would have been one knockout of a woman if only she had paid as much attention to her femininity as she had to her academics. Well, no matter. He was here now, and she could enjoy being a bombshell all she wanted to, as he had said, explore her sexuality all she wanted. She could be free, or rather, live out the illusion of one, while being his faithful servant. It would be a reward well deserved for her.

“Now then,” Harry remarked as Harmony kept checking herself out as if she had just been given a new outfit to try on. “I will be leaving on a little trip tomorrow, and I want you to do something for me, Harmony.”

Expectant and obedient, Harmony nodded and stared at her Master who gave her an approving nod.

“You will be coming with me on this trip,” Harry informed, to her surprise. “There will be a few tasks I’ll need you to carry out for me, and dare I say, you’d be suitable for those tasks. Especially now, looking as you do. It’s the perfect chance to put your new looks to good practice, won’t you say?”

A foreboding feeling coursed through her as she gazed at Harry but she knew she could not deny it. She nodded obediently and Harry gave her an approving smile.

“Good. Here, take this,” he instructed and threw a pouch of galleons toward her which she clumsily caught. “Head over to wherever you fancy and get some nice clothes for this vacation. We’ll be leaving right at noon so don’t be late.”

Harmony nodded, her eyes slightly wide as she saw how many gold coins he had given her. Her mind was already hard at work as she wondered just what kind of clothes she should buy. If she was getting the meaning of this assignment correctly, then it seemed another trip to the muggle world was imminent.

“You have begun your foray into properly exploring your sexuality, Harmony,” Harry continued. “I would hate to hamper your progress. You will be diving even deeper on this trip. I hope you know what that means?”

Sleeping with more men who were not her husband. She knew exactly what that meant. Conflicting feelings rose within her but those were immediately quashed by this sudden surge of desire that erupted within her and she nodded eagerly, conveying her understanding, and Harry nodded.

“You may leave now. Be here on time tomorrow and we’ll be on our way. Don’t disappoint me with your choice of clothes. You hear?”

“Yes, Master,” she replied, bowing low, and Harry nodded toward Pansy who gave him a pout but pulled her hand off his cock. She could not resist flicking a drop of his precum though, eagerly licking it off her fingertip as she gave him a salacious wink and stood up, walking over and wrapping an arm around Harmony’ waist.

Harry and Cissa watched two pairs of ivory asses jiggling enticingly as they walked away, and before the blonde could react, she found herself hoisted in the air and on her Lord’s lap.

“Mmm…” Cissa purred as she rolled her pussy lips against his hard-on, rubbing her folds over him as she caressed his chest softly, leaning forward to kiss him. Harry allowed himself to fall back, pulling the blonde with him as she draped herself all over him, pressing her large tits against his chest. Her pussy kept rolling over his prick, probing her never pushing inside, and both loved these little ministrations as they kissed sensuously.

“I could see how jealous you looked when I was giving it to her,” Harry smirked as he pulled back from the kiss and stared up into her lustful orbs.

“Impatient, more like,” Cissa replied, rolling her pussy atop his prick with more urgency. Her lower lips hugged his length as it kept rubbing wetly against her damp slit, and Harry knew just how aroused she was.

“You liked that? Being treated by Harmony?”

“It’s a poor substitute to this,” Cissa responded.

“It ain’t meant to be a substitute, my dear slut,” Harry chuckled. “You did like that, didn’t you?”

“It’s more to do with who the person was,” Cissa replied honestly. “That bitch left you to fend for yourself when you needed her the most. She is the lowest of the lows in my book. There’s no humiliation I won’t love to befall her.”

“Ooh. Vindictive today, are we?” Harry asked teasingly.

“That is why I’m fully supportive of what you’re doing to her, My Lord,” she continued passionately, her expressive eyes locked with his. “She deserves to be shown what a slut she is. And she deserves to be made into one. Let her know what the debauchery of fucking numerous men who are not her husband feels like.”

“Oh she will,” Harry whispered promisingly. “She will know exactly what it feels like. And I plan to keep playing with this flimsy morality of hers. It’s child’s play, you know? I just need to let up a little and her so-called rational persona does emerge, and what a feeling it is to see her when she realizes what she’s doing, and how eagerly she’s let herself fall.”

“Nothing less than she deserves,” Cissa hissed as her Lord reached behind her and aligned himself against her entrance, and she eagerly plunged herself onto his manhood, pushing his entire length inside her wet, welcoming quim with one firm slam. “Ah Harry… Mmm… I love this so much, My Lord!”

Harry reached up and caressed her soft cheek with the back of his fingers, loving how she leaned into his touch as she started to move her hips up and down, helping him move his cock in and out of her at a leisurely pace that slowly took up the rhythm until their skin were slapping erotically, sending the sound echoing in the massive cavernous room.

“Ahh yes! Ah Master! Oh… Mmm… Fuck me… Oh fuck me please!” Cissa moaned throatily, her mouth perpetually open in a silent sigh as she kept her head thrown back and rode him, her lustrous blonde hair bouncing in tandem with her large, gravity-defying tits that begged to be feasted upon, which was exactly what Harry did.

She let out a wanton sigh and a loving smile curled up on her face as she caressed the back of his hair, threading her fingers through his dark locks, relishing the feeling of his lips wrapped around her nipple and his tongue probing the hardened nub. Both his hands reached up to grab hold of her tits, squeezing and fondling gently as he alternated his mouth between the two, prodding her nipples with his tongue as he lapped and sucked away.

“Mmm… I love your cock, Master… Ohh… I love how it makes me feel…” Cissa moaned, gently rotating her hips and feeling all of his inches deep inside her. She felt him squeeze her luscious tits harder and moaned louder. “Oh I want you to keep fucking me forever… Oh my Harry… Fuck!”

“Well, you know you won’t have to worry about me getting enough of you ever, Cissa,” Harry chuckled as he pulled away from her tits and regarded her. “You are mine, you hear? I made you into the best version of yourself, for you and for me. Like hell will I ever have enough of you.”

“Oh Master…” Cissa whispered adoringly as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed herself flush against him, smashing their lips in a searing kiss. Her Master always knew what to say and when to say it. He treated her better than anyone ever had or could. She was his to do with as he pleased, but never did he abuse her. He was caring, he was attentive, and he ensured she always got as much pleasure as she wanted when he was with her. She could not ask for anything else, and yet he kept on giving. She must have accumulated a shit ton of positive karma to gain such a benevolent and respectful lord.

Her love for her Lord knew no bounds, and it always intensified her arousal when she was with him. Things were no different now either as she kept her lips mashed up against his, their tongues dancing passionately as they kissed furiously, and Cissa began to push her pussy faster and more fervently up and down her Master’s cock. Their kiss was intense, the feelings coursing through her divine, and the sensation of being stuffed so wonderfully with the most magnificent dick that had ever existed made the blonde bombshell moan lustfully into her Master’s mouth. She kept her eyes clamped shut, losing herself to the uncontrollable sensations of pleasure coursing through her body when she felt her Lord wrap his arms around her naked body and pull her flush against himself, smashing her large tits firmly against his hard chest.

All she could do was keep kissing her Master as he began to quickly and ruthlessly slam his massive cock up into her quivering pussy, fucking her balls deep with such ferocity and desire that Cissa felt as if her virginity was being taken once again. She could feel the ferocity of her orgasm that was imminent and her grip on his shoulders tightened to the point where she was desperately clutching onto him, relinquishing all the control to him. She trusted him beyond measure and knew he would bring her to her release imminently.

A quivering feeling rose deep in her belly and she moaned into her Lord’s mouth as she shuddered, a massive orgasm washing over her. Her Lord kept her firmly clutched to himself as he drove his massive length repeatedly inside her orgasmic snatch, fucking her through her climax, uncaring of how tight she felt. Cissa’s breathing was ragged with her mouth locked with his, and her nose could do only so much on their own. As a result, her heartbeat skyrocketed to the point where she could hear it pounding, and it was only then that he released her from the scorching kiss that had literally taken her breath away.

Cissa’s breathless face hovered above her Master who finally slowed his thrusts down and welcomed her into a loving embrace. The blonde smiled tiredly as she burrowed herself into his arms as shudders coursed through her on repeat, her orgasm sending droves of pleasure straight through her core to every part of her body. Her breathing was erratic as she clutched onto him, and she could feel her core fluttering as his massive manhood remained pushed firmly inside her.

“You are the best Lord I could’ve ever asked for,” she whispered against his neck, hearing him chuckle, and a smile came over her face. He truly was the best.

“Oh good! There’s something left for me, after all!” An exuberant voice came from the other side of the living room and Cissa sighed. She felt herself grabbed by the waist and groaned in protest as she was pulled off her Lord and deposited on the couch to his right.

“Now, don’t be greedy. You had your fun. It’s my turn now,” Pansy admonished softly as she turned to her Master and grinned, licking her lips excitedly as she saw the cum-covered cock that still stood hard and proud. “I knew you wouldn’t forget me, Master.”

Harry chuckled as Pansy leaned over and took his slick length in her mouth, rolling her tongue around and sucking him off eagerly. In no time, she had climbed on his lap and impaled herself on his hard rod, her head thrown back in pleasure as she began to bounce up and down rhythmically, her large tits flying around on her chest as she fucked herself wantonly like his slut that he was.

He would be away for a while, and he knew both the women wanted to have him as much as they could before he left. Truth be told, Harry was only too happy to oblige.

-Break-

The threesome had lost count of the number of orgasms they’d had in the nine hours or so since Harmony’ departure, and it was in the early hours of the morning that they finally went to sleep. It was eleven when they woke up, and a little less than an hour later, they sat together in the massive dining hall having a light meal.

“She better not disappoint you,” Cissa muttered as she flicked her wand, cutting the apples and depositing them on her Lord’s plate who stared at her in amusement.

“She knows not to,” Harry consoled. “Still, I have you two here to correct her, don’t I?”

“Here you do,” Pansy nodded. “There? No.”

“I’m sure it’d all work out just fine,” Harry waved his hand dismissively. Turning to Pansy, he asked, “She knows the way now?”

The brunette nodded just as there was a soft knock before they heard the approaching footsteps. It was the sound of heels clacking on the floor and Harry smirked. He already had a good feeling about this.

He saw Cissa and Pansy glance up and the looks of affirmation were hard to miss.

“Master… I’ve arrived.”

Obedient and punctual, as predicted. Harry drummed his fingers on the table and asked her to walk over and present herself to him, hearing the familiar clacks as she approached. Once she was in his line of sight, he took a good look at her from top to bottom, scanning her as he did. With his finger, he made a circular motion and the brunette turned around, presenting her back to him.

“Push your hair to the side,” Harry ordered and she followed, showing him the back of the dress. Harry nodded and told her to turn around.

She looked utterly fuckable, exactly how he wanted her to be, and the approving nod he gave her made her smile brightly at him. Harry was not sure she would’ve smiled so brightly even if McGonagall had told her she’d smashed Dumbledore’s NEWT grades.

“Any improvements, Cissa?” Harry asked, keeping his eyes trained on Harmony who turned to the blonde.

Cissa stared her up and down critically before flicking her wand. The hair which had been done earlier unfurled and cascaded down her back and shoulder in large waves, and soon, a soft sheen appeared over it, adding to the overall appeal.

“That should cover most of it, My Lord,” Cissa replied.

“Then do the final bit. Here,” Harry held out a small pin, and Cissa stood up, approaching Harmony with the pin in her hand.

“W-What is that?” She asked hesitantly.

“Anyone gave you permission to ask questions, girl?” Cissa’s voice cracked like a whip. “Just because you did one task fine doesn’t mean you can get a big head. Know your place.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Harmony whispered, her head bowed, and Cissa nodded curtly as she walked behind her and pressed the pin against the side of her neck. Harmony suddenly hissed as she felt a prickling sensation against her skin but she didn’t move, allowing the woman to do what she had set out to do. It was over within seconds, and Cissa took her seat beside her Lord, nodding at her handiwork.

“Efficient and effective, as always,” Harry praised, and the woman grinned brightly at him.

Harmony’ eyes opened blearily and Cissa quickly flicked her wand, fixing whatever blemishes had appeared on the woman’s make-up after her slight modification. The brunette looked confused and Harry easily conjured a mirror for her. As she gazed ahead, her eyes bugged out.

“This will be your appearance as long as you have that pin inside you,” Harry informed the woman who turned to him, shocked. “We can allow you to go out as yourself when you become more confident in your… new self, shall we say… but for now, I’m sure you wouldn’t want everyone to know how depraved the prim and proper Hermione Weasley truly is, right? I mean… you know I wouldn’t mind it in the slightest if the people saw your true colors but I’d rather it happened properly, you hear?”

Harmony barely heard Harry’s last couple of sentences, her eyes fixated on her appearance. Her body looked as it did when she came here, but her face had transformed entirely. It was not the face of someone she knew, and no one would ever recognize her. She had no clue what kind of magic Harry had at his disposal that allowed him to cast such an intricate glamor but she knew that was not all he was capable of.

“Now, humor me for a bit, will you?” Harry remarked, and Harmony turned to him curiously. “What did your braindead husband say when he saw the new hot and sexy you?”

Harmony’ lips pursed as she glanced down.

“He was already asleep by the time I got home, and he was gone when I woke up. He hasn’t seen me like this yet,” she replied.

“Sucks to be him. I would’ve thought for sure he’d get to be the first man to tap that new form of yours first. Guess he won’t be the one to take this new virginity,” Harry commented offhandedly. Harmony’ lips pursed slightly but she said nothing.

“You told him you’d be away or…?” Pansy let her question linger in the air, prompting the other brunette to shake her head.

“I left him a letter, not that he’d care.”

Harry merely chuckled as he regarded her. “One final thing. You won’t be called Harmony over there, or Hermione, for that matter. The first is slutty and the second is too uncommon. You will be… let me think… Jessica. Yeah, that sounds like a fine name. Jessica, one of my personal secretaries. That clear to you?”

The newly-dubbed Jessica nodded obediently and Harry clapped his hands as he stood up. With a wave of his hand, his suit fixed itself up right away, although that did not stop Cissa from adding a few final touches to it, much to his amusement.

“Happy?” He asked once she stepped back, and the woman nodded. “Good. I’ll be back in a few. Take care of the place in the meantime, and… you know? Do whatever you think best.”

“Will do, My Lord,” Cissa smiled as she exchanged a soft kiss with her Lord before Pansy did the same.

“I’ll keep you updated with everything that goes on with the investigations and such,” the woman supplied.

“I’m sure you will,” Harry smirked as he let her go. Turning toward his companion for the trip, he held an arm out and she quickly composed herself before threading her arm through his, allowing him to escort her. They walked together toward the Floo, followed by Cissa and Pansy, and in no time, the pair vanished in a swirl of emerald flames.

Cissa and Pansy stared at the lingering flames for a few seconds before the latter turned to regard the older woman.

“As so it begins… the true fall from grace for Hermione Bloody Weasley,” she said scathingly. “Can’t say there’s been any that’s so well deserved. I can’t wait to see her face when she comes back, or how much she changes on this trip.”

“Change is inevitable, Pansy,” Cissa replied as she began walking back toward the dining area, with the brunette following close behind. “And after what our Lord has in store for her, she will truly loosen up. She’d have no other choice.”

“I guess. Still, I don’t really know how to feel about our lord’s decision though… about all those other characters,” Pansy mused aloud.

“You know our Lord, Pansy,” Cissa said firmly. “No man can touch what’s his, and no matter how pathetic she might be, Harmony is our Lord’s property now. His objective is to break her. To make her believe she’s done it. It doesn’t matter what degree of deception is involved.”

“I guess…”

“Harmony will do everything our Lord asks her to do, Pansy, and she will love it. However, she’ll never know the truth of it. Our Lord is clear on that. She will believe she’s done it, and that is all that matters.”

Pansy nodded as she took her seat and resumed eating, pushing the thoughts of Harmony out of her mind. That woman had her future set in stone now, and there were no two ways about it.

TBC.

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Chapter Text

The floo flared a brilliant shade of emerald green and Harry was the first to step out. Hermione’s eyes widened when she saw where they were and she whirled to face him, finding him smirking at her.

“Surprised? Don’t be. You should’ve guessed this would happen,” Harry remarked casually as he walked around, his eyes darting around. “Pretty fine job you’ve done with this place.”

“W-What are we doing here?” She asked searchingly. At his raised eyebrow, she added a quiet and belated, “Master…”

“You seem to slip up at odd times, Harmony…” Harry tutted. “Or rather, I should call you Jessica. That’s what your name is during this trip, after all.”

“I’m sorry, Master. I’ll take care not to do it again,” she said quietly.

“Mmm. Make sure you don’t,” he replied, his eyes trained on the two open doors. “The wastebin doesn’t seem around. That’s a shame. I’d thought to do it in front of him.”

Hermione’s breath hitched slightly at the thought, polarizing emotions taking root within her. The sheer depravity of the proposal sent rivulets of forbidden desire through her, and accompanying those feelings was one of disgust. Harry watched everything unfolding on her pretty face and he chuckled.

“No matter. We can get him involved sometime in the future. For now, this will have to do.”

“What will you have me do, Master?” She asked obediently, both to take her mind off those conflicting thoughts and to get whatever it was over with as soon as she could.

“Why the hurry, Jessica?” Harry asked with an easy smile as he approached her. Hermione remained rooted to the spot, her hands clenched on the fabric of her sheer dress and her toes curled in both nervousness and anticipation as she kept her eyes downcast in front of him, both in subservience and anxiety.

“I-It’s not hurry, M-Master… I-I just don’t want to keep you w-waiting more than you already h-have,” she managed to get out, her breathing growing ragged.

“Oh? That’s very thoughtful of you,” Harry said softly as he came to a stop in front of her and gently lifted her chin, forcing her to look deeply into his emerald orbs. “Do you remember what I told you last night?”

Hermione’s eyes shut as she felt him run his hand along her left, his touch daring as he explored her curves. She recalled the words the woman had said and nodded gently.

“Y-Yes, Master,” she whispered.

“Remind me.”

“You told me that I’ll have my body like this as l-long as I-I keep you satisfied, M-Master… I understand…”

She slowly opened her eyes and began to lower herself when suddenly, she was grabbed firmly by the waist and hoisted in the air. A gasp escaped her as Harry lifted her and grabbed her by the rear, holding her against himself. Her legs automatically came to wrap around his waist as she pressed her lace-clad mound against his crotch, gazing deeply into his amused emerald pools.

“As much as I like you knowing your place, you need to keep me satisfied. If I wanted a muggle robot to service me, I would’ve enchanted something. You need improvement, Jessica. And you need initiative. Creativity. I want you to think on your feet and improvise. How long are you going to be the same dumb bookworm who can do nothing beyond what’s instructed to her, either by a book, or a professor, or your dear Master now?”

Hermione remained silent as Harry began walking, and she saw him taking them to her and Ron’s bedroom, or what it used to be until their fight.

“I wanted to have that bastard watch as I fucked you in the bed you two shared. It’s a shame he’s not here right now. But don’t worry, he will see you fuck me, better and with way more desire than you ever fucked him, in his lovely marriage bed. Won’t he, Jessica?”

“Yes, Master,” she whispered, her desires coming to the forefront of her mind as she imagined the sight of Ron standing, wide-eyed, as she rode her Master… as he bent her over in front of him and gave it to her from behind. Her womanhood started to grow wetter the more she thought about it and it was impossible for Harry to miss the scent of her arousal.

Smirking, he slid his hand down and pushed his fingers under the fabric of her lace knickers, feeling how wet she was.

“Oh damn, just the thought made you so horny? You don’t even need the foreplay right now,” he whispered as he walked forward and slowly lowered himself on the bed, sliding backward so that he was lying in the middle, his upper body resting on a small mountain of pillows.

Hermione let out a soft moan as she felt her damn womanhood rest right on top of his erection and she began to gyrate herself atop him. Her breath hitched when he delivered a resounding slap on her rear before he slid her knickers to the side, exposing her gushing pussy to the cold air. She shivered at the sensation she felt against herself.

“Deep inside, you are a slut, Jessica,” he grunted as he freed his member and slapped the head against her entrance, probing gently. “Admit it.”

“I am a slut, Master,” she whispered.

“Exactly.”

With a powerful thrust, he buried his entire length deep inside her wanton quim and Hermione howled to the heavens, her head thrown back. She shivered as she felt the same coldness from the previous night crawl all over her body, caressing her skin and her curves.

“Feeling it?” Harry asked as he kept thrusting hard and fast into her. “That’s magic at work. It’s sustaining these boons I’ve granted you. You better be grateful for everything I’ve done for you, Jessica.”

“I am!” She cried out, bracing herself as she planted her hands atop his chest and rode him eagerly, rolling her hips against him as she took him deeper inside her. She could feel him reaching deeper than Ron ever had, and the desire to have him watch as someone, who was way more of a man than he was, taking her like this in their shared bed struck her once again. She did not know how and why she had developed such a forbidden desire, but the sight of her husband witnessing the cuckolding he so sorely deserved after the pathetic stunt he had pulled was not going to leave her anytime soon.

“That’s right,” Harry chuckled as he gazed up at her, having heard everything she had been feeling and thinking. He reached up and pulled her new and large tits – easily a handful – out of her sheer cocktail dress, watching how they jiggled enticingly in front of his face. Even if someone examined them, it was impossible to guess that those were new and not natural.

Averting his eyes from her tits, he gazed up at her scrunched-up face. She had her eyes firmly shut as she rode him, her teeth chewing hotly on her bottom lip. Her fingernails dug into his skin, not as hard as to draw blood but still enough to leave marks, as she kept herself upright. Meanwhile, his hands caressed her sides, occasionally reaching up to play with her perky tits. The fabric of her dress was soft and silky, and it didn’t even register with him that he was touching her under her clothes. They might as well not be there if he was being honest.

Hermione’s toes curled as she kept fucking her Master. The thought that she was fucking him in her marriage bed stimulated her in ways she could not fathom, and her arousal kept skyrocketing. Coupled with the magnificent cock of her master that continued to plunge deeper and harder inside her dripping snatch, it was no surprise that she could already feel the tightening in her lower belly.

Harry knew she was close, and he intensified the pace and ferocity of his thrusts. He slammed hard up into her, making her cry and moan out loud, uncaring of who might hear. Her large tits bounced around, slapping against each other, and it was impossible for her to keep herself upright. Her hands gave away and she fell over on top of him, smashing her large tits against his chest as she breathed heavily into his neck.

He kept fucking her hard and fast as she exploded around his cock, and he continued to drill furiously inside her throughout her orgasm. She was left a shivering mess by the time he slowed down, and her breathing was ragged from the intense climax that had coursed through her.

Slowly, she came down from her orgasmic high and realized that he was still as hard as a rock inside her. Lifting her head off his neck, she gazed down at him before swinging her leg off him, pulling her pussy off his cock. Her hot juices slithered down her quim as she leaned over his cock, her lips parted eagerly as she hiked her rear high in the air.

“Go on,” Harry instructed, and she obediently obliged. Plunging her hot mouth on his slick, wet prick, she began to suck him off, pushing her head up and down his length. She fed him down her gullet, deepthroating him, and Harry had to be honest and admit that she was improving nicely.

Being close to his orgasm already, it did not take long for Harry to erupt inside her mouth. However, Hermione kept blowing him off even as he started to shoot his massive load inside her mouth. She took it all, feeling the thick splatters of his seed against the roof of her mouth and the back of her throat. Throughout his climax, she kept moving her head up and down, her tongue licking him all over as she kept sucking him clean.

Her makeup had already become a mess, her lipstick smeared off as she finally pulled away, gazing at him.

“Good girl,” Harry praised, smirking as he saw her preen. No matter what, Hermione would always remain the girl who loved to be commended for a well-done job.

-Break-

Their arrival in the portkey office went mostly unnoticed if one discounted the fact that every employee was starstruck at the sight of the Harry Potter who was accompanied by an unfamiliar woman dressed in a modest set of robes that hid something much more scandalous underneath.

Introducing her as one of his assistants who would be aiding him in his sports business ventures, the pair made their way to their booth where an attendant handed a metal bar to Harry who accepted it with a courteous smile.

“Thank you, Simon,” Harry greeted the man politely who bowed in respect and walked away.

Turning toward his companion, he held the bar out. Hermione glanced at it for a long moment, knowing what awaited her on the other side, before she slowly reached out and grasped it. With a powerful tug around their navel, they were whisked away from Britain.

It took them mere seconds before they found themselves in another portkey booth, and without any ado, Harry led the way out.

“Mr. Potter! Welcome to Sofia!”

“Greetings, Andrei,” Harry smiled, reaching out and shaking the man’s hand.

“Viktor sent me here to escort you to the club facilities,” Andrei continued in his heavily accented English. “Please, hold on to this rope.”

They reached out and once again found themselves whisked away, although the distance and thus the time taken was much shorter.

Powerful winds blew as they stood atop a cliff overlooking a massive facility that looked to be at least two hundred thousand square meters in area. There was a massive Quidditch stadium with three hoops on either end and massive stands rising high in the air. In the distance were the training grounds for both the main squad and the youth teams, another stadium that was smaller and held official matches for those youth teams, and recreation centers. It was a massive undertaking, having developed so much in the past few years under Harry’s ownership.

“You remembered, Andrei?” Harry asked with a chuckle as the man brought out three pristine broomsticks – the Firebolt Aspire that had been unveiled a year ago. It was the broom that the professionals had started to use now and as Harry reached out to grasp it, he could feel the potent magic thrumming through the enchanted wood. “Truly remarkable.”

“How could I forget, sir?” Andrei smiled.

Harry swung a leg over the broom before he glanced at Jessica who was staring at it with apprehension written on her face in bold, block letters. Chuckling, he jolted her slightly, making her blink owlishly.

“Up for a flight, I hope?” he smirked and before she could react, he shot off toward the administrative building in the distance. She watched on with wide eyes as Andrei followed suit right away, leaving her by herself on the cliff.

Hermione stared at the dot that was Harry, watching as it kept getting smaller by the second. Shaking her head, she gingerly mounted the broomstick and pushed off the cliff. Her eyes shot open when she was thrust through the air at a breakneck pace.

The wind whipped her hair back, her eyes widening as the ground became a blur beneath her. Panic set in almost instantly. The broom was going too fast—way too fast. She tried to pull up, to slow down, but it was no use. It was like the broom had a mind of its own, and it wasn’t interested in stopping.

She felt her fingers slip from the handle and she gasped, feeling herself lose control. Suddenly, she was airborne—without the broom. She flailed, gravity yanking her downward, the world spinning as she fell. The ground rushed toward her, a sickening feeling of helplessness flooding her mind.

"I'm going to die," she thought, terror coursing through her veins as the distance between her and the ground shrank.

Out of nowhere, strong arms enveloped her. Her body jerked to a halt mid-air, the violent rush of wind around her ceasing. She gasped, the sudden shift in momentum leaving her breathless, but she wasn’t falling anymore.

She opened her eyes, heart still pounding, to find herself cradled against the chest of a man—someone she had never seen before. He held her effortlessly, his arms steady and sure as he guided them both through the air. She could feel the power in the way he flew, his broom moving smoothly beneath him as he brought them toward a distant building.

The panic in her chest slowly subsided, replaced by disbelief. She was safe.

They descended gracefully, his hold on her never wavering, and soon her feet touched solid ground. They had landed by a building at the edge of the field, far from where she had nearly met her end.

Breathing hard, she looked up at her rescuer. His face was calm, his expression unreadable beneath the windswept brown hair framing his features. He didn’t say anything immediately, just held her gaze for a moment before letting her down gently.

"You should be more careful," he said, his voice deep and steady with a hint of amusement in his tone. Hermione felt herself shiver as she gazed at him.

She caught herself and blinked, still in shock, her legs trembling beneath her. "I—I thought I was going to die."

He chuckled, his lips curving into a small smile. "Not really. The entire facility is enchanted. You would’ve been lowered to the ground safely."

Hermione’s eyes widened at the revelation. “Then why…?”

The man chuckled as she trailed off. “Do I need an excuse to help out a stunning woman?” He asked candidly, his gaze dipping lower for just a moment. “You might want to fix that though.”

Blinking, Hermione glanced downwards and her eyes bugged out. The top three buttons of her modest robe had come undone and her impressive cleavage clad in that stunning dress was there for all to see. She hurriedly fixed herself up and turned back to him.

Before she could speak though, he mounted his broom again, rising into the air as easily as if it were second nature. He glanced back at her one last time, a knowing look in his eyes, before disappearing into the sky as swiftly as he had appeared.

She stood there, breathless, and her heart thumping hard in her chest, as she tried to process what had just happened.

“Had fun?”

The amused voice from behind her made her whirl around and her wide eyes fell on none other than Harry who stood with his hands in his pockets, his hair swaying in the powerful wind as he slowly approached her.

“I thought I’d die,” she whispered.

“Please,” Harry chuckled, waving his hand dismissively. “I know how much you suck at brooms. I wouldn’t have made you ride one, and a bloody Firebolt at that, if I knew you were in any danger.”

“I didn’t know I was never in any danger!”

“Oh? I assumed you knew. You always do, after all,” Harry remarked with genuine surprise before his features morphed into one of understanding. “On second thought, you never were the least bit interested in Quidditch, so I guess it makes sense that you wouldn’t know the standard practices with all professional teams.”

Hermione slowly breathed in and out, bringing her heartbeat back under control. She found him staring at something behind her and as she glanced over, she saw the same man from before flying in the air, although simply flying was an understatement. He was gliding through the air, the acrobatic moves he kept pulling even in the windy atmosphere giving away the fact that he was a professional.

“Surprising you didn’t recognize him, by the way,” Harry remarked as he stepped closer and Hermione’s breath hitched when he grabbed her now-shapely behind over her robe, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Should I?” She managed, watching on.

“You tell me. You went to the Yule Ball with his older brother, after all,” Harry chuckled as she whirled around to face him, her eyes wide. “Yep. That’s Viktor’s brother. The youngest member of the first team. Promoted last year, actually. Quite skilled with the broom, as you can see.”

Hermione nodded absently, watching Viktor’s brother doing those maneuvers in the air with fascination apparent in her gaze. Harry noticed her look and smirked.

“Well then, looks like you’re ready to begin your little journey already, eh?” He remarked, gazing into the sky. “I didn’t expect it’d be with Ivan though.”

Hermione remained silent, unable to offer any rebuttal in the face of the truth. Now that she had accepted this new side of her, as much as she had at least, she had indeed thought about it.

“Well, you didn’t have Viktor. A kiss was the max if I remember correctly, right? Seems his brother will get the full package,” Harry whispered in her ear, his hot breath sending shivers down Hermione’s spine.

She stood there, motionless, and her eyes followed Ivan through the air as he tore straight ahead on the broomstick.

“Luckily for you, there will be enough opportunities for it,” Harry continued. “All you need to do is be ready and snatch it up. Bloke’s got no shortage of Eastern-European beauties throwing themselves at him. With the way you look now, well… I bet the horndog will be interested.”

‘Oh, he looked interested, alright,’ Hermione thought to herself, making Harry’s smirk widen as he heard it loud and clear.

“Good for you. Go, live your life,” Harry remarked, chuckling as he gently spanked her over her robe one final time before walking away.

As Hermione kept staring at the man flying the broom, Harry turned around and the easy smile on his face morphed into a sneer as he walked toward the administrative building.

“Follow me, Jessica,” he called out, hearing the swift movement of feet behind him.

Hermione’s journey had indeed begun nicely. The seeds he had planted within her had taken root, and her desires were bubbling underneath the surface, impatiently waiting to be unleashed. He could see that she was interested in fucking the young lad, and fuck him she would… or rather, she would believe she had.

He was one possessive bastard, and he knew that. No one else could lay claim to what was his, and no matter what, Hermione was his now. She could believe all she wanted that she had fucked Krum, or Krum’s brother, or any other bloke from the United Kingdom to fucking Australia, but the only man who would ever touch her with authority was him.

His objective was to turn her into this slut that he knew lurked just underneath the surface inside her. As long as she believed she had done it, it was fair game. She could live with the memories of fucking all those blokes, but the reality would be altogether different.

Tapping the little bottle of liquor in his pocket that contained something else entirely, Harry schooled his features into a polite smile once again.

As they passed through the gates, the emblem of the Vratsa Vultures, a silver vulture with its wings spread wide, loomed above them. It was a symbol Harry had come to respect. Being the owner and president of a professional Quidditch team wasn’t just about the glory; it was about the responsibility of keeping the club’s legacy alive.

"Harry," Krum greeted him with a firm handshake, his Slavic accent still thick despite having spent years away from Bulgaria. His hair was even shorter now, but his eyes still held the same intensity from his days as a professional Seeker. At his urging, Krum had taken on the role of Sporting Director after retiring from professional play, and his knowledge of the game was invaluable.

"Viktor," Harry smiled. "You look ready for another season."

"I hope the players feel the same way," Krum said with a smirk. "Come, we have much to discuss."

They entered Krum’s office, a room lined with Quidditch memorabilia—pictures of old matches, broken Beater bats, and a golden Snitch encased in glass. They took their seats and Harry accepted the glass of firewhiskey, swirling it about as he made himself comfortable.

“The season’s objectives are clear,” he began, looking over the portrait of his club’s players lifting the European Cup. “It’s all or nothing. Win the league, get that European Cup again, and have the academy shine. Still, what’s the status on new signings?”

Krum leaned back, crossing his arms thoughtfully. "We’ve already secured two key transfers. A new Keeper from Montrose Magpies, excellent reflexes, and a Chaser from Puddlemere United—young, fast, with a lot of potential. But there’s still the issue of the Beater position, with Hammerby retiring this year. It’s high time we signed a young replacement."

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. "We need power in that spot. Someone who’s going to be able to hold up against the heavy hitters."

"I might have someone in mind," Krum said, leaning forward slightly, the tone of his voice catching Harry’s attention. "There’s a young Beater from the Appleby Arrows. Boy’s got talent, raw power. He’s still rough around the edges, but with the right training, he could be exactly what we need."

Harry’s face lit up with interest. "And he’s open to moving?"

Krum grimaced. "That’s the issue. Appleby is his boyhood club. We’ve approached him through his agent, but he’s playing hard ball. It would take more than just money to convince him."

Harry leaned back in his chair, tapping his chin in thought. The Vultures needed this signing if they were serious about competing at the highest level in the upcoming seasons. However, convincing a player to leave his childhood team was always tricky. His gaze wandered, almost absentmindedly, before landing on Jessica. A thought flickered in his mind, and a slow, knowing smirk began to form on his lips.

Krum noticed the shift in his expression instantly. "What is it, Harry?"

"I might have an idea," Harry said, his smirk widening slightly, eyes now twinkling with a plan.

Krum raised an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. "What kind of idea?"

"Leave it to me," Harry replied smoothly, still smirking. His eyes met Jessica’s briefly, and in that split second, she knew exactly what he had in mind. She’d seen this look before, and his plan was crystal clear to her. The same thoughts from before rose within her, and as she gazed at him, she knew what her role was going to be.

Krum stared at him for a few more moments but didn’t press further. He trusted Harry’s judgment, both on and off the field. The man had a way of getting things done that others couldn’t, a way of making even the most improbable situations work in his favor.

"Very well," he said with a sigh. "But I hope it’s good. I don’t think we can afford to let this one slip away."

"It will be," Harry assured him. "We’ve got the squad, the facilities, and the ambition. Now we just need that one final piece."

For the next half an hour, they discussed other related aspects of the club, both sporting and otherwise, before Harry broached the topic of Krum’s brother.

“Ivan looks ready to become a regular,” he remarked, placing the empty glass of firewhiskey on the table. He felt Jessica twitch beside him and smothered a grin, merely gracing her with an amused glance. The mere mention of the foreigner was already enough to make her visibly react.

“Aye, he does,” Krum nodded, a proud gleam in his eyes. “My parents say he’ll surpass me one day.”

“I sure hope he does,” Harry nodded. “Better for our club. I’d like to see you two go at it though. What do you think?”

“I think we can arrange something,” Krum smirked, his competitive fire still burning fiercely. “What about you? Care to try your hand with a couple of pros?”

“And embarrass the same pros?” Harry taunted, chuckling. “I don’t think that’d send a good message out to the fans – club legend and wonderkid outclassed by a non-pro President. The press will have a field day.”

“I still can’t believe what a cocky little shit you’ve become, Harry,” Krum snorted, earning a smirk.

“I guess I already had it in me. Just needed something to force it out,” Harry replied, eyeing his former best friend out of the corner of his eyes and watching her shift uncomfortably. “That should be enough for now, I reckon. I’ll catch up with you later, Viktor.”

As Harry got up and walked toward the door with Jessica by his side, he glanced back at Krum with a half-smile. "About that Beater… You’ll see soon enough. Just trust me on this."

Krum shook his head, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "I always do."

As they left the office and made their way toward the main building, Jessica finally spoke up, “He didn’t recognize me at all…”

Harry chuckled, giving her a sidelong glance. “Of course he didn’t. That was kinda the whole point of that needle.”

She remained silent for a few moments as they walked through the empty corridor, occasionally glancing at him out of the corners of her eyes.

“So… about that Beater…”

“Hmm… What about him?” Harry asked nonchalantly.

She took a deep breath as she replied, “I believe you want me to… do something about it?”

“If you want to,” Harry replied, shrugging. “I’ve told you I want you to broaden your horizons. If you believe you can get it done while doing what I’ve told you to do, then be my guest. But if you’re having any doubts, I can’t have you screwing things up.”

Jessica pursed her lips as they walked, her eyes fixated on the floor.

“Think about the one who’s here first, Jessica,” Harry said without looking at her. “Get a proper taste, without being made to do anything. I bet you’ll find it so much liberating that it will change you completely.”

She remained silent as they kept walking, occasionally passing by several club employees who greeted Harry respectfully. Her mind kept relaying his words, repeating the plans he had for her and the choices she had going ahead for herself. She could not deny how those thoughts made her feel, and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.

As Harry glanced at her, he saw the resolute expression on her face and stifled a chuckle. Smirking, he continued walking.

Hermione had already accepted what she wanted, and given how meticulous she was, he knew how much effort she would put into it.

He was so looking forward to seeing the fruits of her newfound desires, especially when she was not subservient and did not know who it was in place of the ‘other men’ she would be giving herself to.

Her journey was beginning nicely.

TBC.

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Chapter Text

A/N: I’ve changed the name ‘Hermes’ to ‘Harmony’.

-Break-

The President’s office was bathed in the soft, late evening glow, casting long shadows across the polished mahogany desk in the center of the room. Mere minutes ago, the office had been filled with high-ranked members of the club and a certain beater’s entourage who all had come together to finalize the signing.

Harry leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of him, as he gazed at his dear secretary seated right opposite him. He watched her closely, his lips quirked in amusement, as she sat with a proud tilt to her head. The silence between them stretched on as they gazed at each other, pride shining in both their eyes.

He had watched her transform beautifully over the past week. She was much more assured of her femininity, from the way she embraced her new looks to how she seemed to flaunt her clothes that seemed to hug her curves without being overly suggestive. The Hermione of old would’ve gawked at the woman she had been transformed into, and Harry took sincere pride in bringing his former best friend out of her shell.

He took a deep breath, letting his sharp green eyes linger on the exposed skin right over where the neckline of her business suit began. “You’ve done exceptionally well, Harmony,” he praised, his voice smooth, and his smirk widened when he saw her shiver in her seat. He had not called her that for a while now and it seemed she’d just been reminded of who she truly was to him. Disregarding it, he continued, “And I’m not just talking about Ivan or our newest beater. I’m proud of how you’ve come to embrace this side of yourself.”

Harmony blushed slightly, her gaze flicking to the desk for a moment before meeting Harry’s again. “Thank you, Master… I─” She hesitated for a moment, biting her lower lip gently before she continued. “I should’ve believed you long ago. I never thought I’d… that I’d enjoy any of this as much as I have.”

Harry’s eyes glinted. That hesitation, the slight uncertainty—it was still there, but only a trace remained. She had come so far in such a short time, stepping into a world she hadn’t even known she craved. And she was so close to fully embracing it, so close to falling into the identity he had crafted for her.

He leaned forward, his voice lowering. “Tell me, Harmony. How does it feel, really? To know that you can use your charms, your body, to get what you want. What we need. To realize how truly beautiful, enchanting, and sexy you can be. No longer the bookworm that you used to take so much pride in being.”

Her blush deepened, but a small, proud smile tugged at her pink lips. She shifted in her seat, almost as if the mere mention of the topic brought back the sensations she had experienced over the past few days.

“It’s… intoxicating,” she admitted with an excited whisper, her smile wide and genuinely brilliant. “I’d only been with you before, and I’d come to accept it. Exploring others… it was strange at first. They were not my masters. I’ve been an efficient servant to you so far, the one who is honored to even be considered by you to be so intimate with, and… it was different this time. It wasn’t just my duty and commitment to make sure I pleased you. No. It was for me as well. It was something I wanted.”

Harry nodded, wanting to hear more of her thoughts. He wanted her to express herself fully, to be utterly honest about her thoughts and feelings with him.

“Go on,” he encouraged. “How did it feel when you were with them? When you had control for the first time? When you knew you decided how far you wanted to go, how much intense you wanted it to be? How did it feel to be in charge like that?”

She let out a small, almost disbelieving laugh, but there was no mistaking that underlying confidence in her demeanor that was almost palpable now. It was not something that had been there before, and it pleased Harry to no end.

“I felt… powerful,” she said wistfully, almost as if she was craving more of it already. “I mean… I know it wasn’t love or duty. As you said, it was me trying out different flavors out there. Broadening my horizons. But just seeing how much influence I could have over them… the power… it was thrilling. Knowing how much I could make them want me… seeing how much they desired me… having this power to make them do what I wanted…” She trailed off, her eyes flickering with a mix of pride and excitement. “I never thought I had that in me.”

Harry’s smirk deepened, although he merely kept an amused smile on his face as he gazed at her.

“You’ve always had it in you, Harmony,” he told her. “That desire to be in control, to always be in charge… that’s who you’ve been since before we even met each other. It only manifested in that bossy attitude you had during our Hogwarts days.”

“That was different,” she tried.

“Was it really though?” Harry asked with a chuckle as he leaned back and regarded her. “Get your tits out.”

She blinked at the sudden order but did as she was told without any further delay. Unbuttoning her silk shirt, she reached inside and grabbed her larger tits, pulling them out of the confines of her lace bra and displaying them proudly for both herself and her Master.

Harry stood up and approached her, conjuring a mirror in front of her with a casual wave of his hand. She gazed at herself in the mirror, watching Harry out of the corner of her eye as he walked across the desk and assumed his position behind her.

“Earlier, your desire to be in control came from here,” he tapped her temples with both his hands. She moaned softly when his hands began trailing downward, caressing her cheek and neck before reaching out and grabbing hold of her tits. He gave them a soft squeeze, his lips pressed against the side of her neck, and she tilted her head to the side, allowing him more access. Her eyes remained locked with his in the mirror as he fondled her tits, brushing his thumbs over her hard nipples as he dropped sensual kisses along the sensitive skin under her ear. “And now,” he whispered, biting her earlobe gently. “Your desires come from here and everything else.”

With a final squeeze of her tits, he pulled away from her, much to her muted protest and his silent amusement. He vanished the mirror and walked across, taking his seat once again.

“Fix your clothes.”

She quickly obliged once again and buttoned up her shirt, pulling her blazer properly in place. “You’ve always had it in you. All you needed was the right push in the right direction. A right opportunity.”

Her eyes widened slightly, and she gave him a grateful look. “You opened this door for me, Master. I would’ve never even thought that I could have something like this in my life. I had no idea how much of myself I’d been holding back earlier. I mean, as you said, I’ve always been one to want to be in control, and a good girl, as they say. But what you’ve shown me… it’s so much more than anything I could’ve ever thought to be.”

“It’s like a part of you that you didn’t know existed has been woken up, and now you feel better than ever before,” Harry surmised.

“When I was with you before…” She whispered, reminiscing. “I could feel these two entities within me battling against each other over what is right and what is wrong. Now though… I can’t hear those voices. It feels so peaceful. Maybe because I’ve come to fully accept this as a part of myself. It feels I’m… free.”

Her voice shook slightly in the end, as though even saying it out loud was giving her a sense of liberation. Harry leaned back slightly in satisfaction as he watched her closely, the light casting a faint glow on her face, highlighting how sincere she looked at that moment.

“Free?” He asked, feigning curiosity. “Do explain.”

She nodded eagerly, leaning forward as if she was compelled to elaborate. “It’s just… I never thought I could be the type of woman who could… do things like this. I mean, it’s not just about the physical side of things, though that’s been… more than amazing.” She hesitated slightly again, although not out of embarrassment, but a bit flustered. “It’s that I feel finally in control of myself in a way I never did before. I always thought of sex as a duty, something distant that was more of a task or obligation, but now… it’s something I own. Something I can use if I want to and when I want to.”

She smiled with a glint of excitement in her eyes that amused Harry to no end. “And the pleasure… I never imagined it could truly feel so good. With you… with Ivan… with Hugh…” She trailed off, a soft laugh escaping her. “I mean, apart from you, I know no one else was going to be serious, but I never expected to feel this free, this alive after everything. I finally understand what you’ve been talking about all this time. I just needed to experience it for myself before.”

Harry’s smirk threatened to break free, but he kept his expression carefully under control. She truly believed she had taken charge of those encounters with Ivan and Hugh the beater, believing that those two had been real, when in fact, they had been him all along. Every sigh, every gasp, every moan that escaped her had been for him, even though she thought they had been for them. And yet, her words about feeling alive, about finally owning herself – it was all the more satisfying because he had orchestrated every moment of her liberation. Funny what a combination of Polyjuice and memory charms could do.

“I’m glad to hear that, Harmony,” Harry said softly, his voice almost caressing her flawless skin. “You deserve this. All of it. No matter the past, I know you’ve always been such a capable woman, but now, finally seeing you like this – seeing you step into your own power – it’s remarkable.”

Her cheeks flushed, both with pride in herself, and gratitude toward her Master.  Her eyes shone as she spoke, “I couldn’t have achieved any of this without you, Master. You gave me the chance and the push to explore this, to discover this part of myself. If it weren’t for you… I’d probably still be stuck in my old routine with that worthless man who couldn’t care less if our lives were destroyed…” She let out a disdainful chuckle, and although the sound was light, it was full of newfound disregard and confidence. “I always thought I had to play by all the rules… but now… now, I feel like I can really do anything.”

And there it was, his true motivation behind this endeavor. It had also been fulfilled now. When she had been with him, it had been out of obligation, and she had been in constant conflict over her desires and how much of it was due to this duty that he had bound her with. However, here in Bulgaria, he had given her full freedom to pursue what she wanted. Being in full control of her actions now, she had made her choices. As a result, any conflict that had remained within her over right or wrong had now vanished entirely.

Harry hated this woman. There was no doubt in his mind regarding that fact. But it was also true that he wanted her when she was fully herself. A conflicted servant was undesirable. He wanted her to want him truly with every fiber of her being. He knew she also desired and craved this sensation. It was not only because a vow was forcing her to remain subservient to him. That was a temporary approach, no matter how permanent it might be in nature, and true permanence was always preferable. Only then was he going to bestow upon her his mark, and it seemed she had taken the first true steps toward that moment of salvation.

“And that’s exactly what I wanted for you,” Harry nodded, satisfaction curling in his chest. “My methods might have seemed cruel, but sometimes, it’s necessary to get the point across. You deserve this, Harmony. All of it. You’ve always been a capable person, but you also deserve to know about your abilities when it comes to the carnal component of your life. You are a desirable woman, and you deserve to see the proof of it. Believe me when I say that you deserve to realize this part of you.”

A genuine smile overtook her features and Harry watched as she got up and walked around the desk. She stood before him for a long moment, her eyes filled with devotion, before she slowly turned his chair toward herself and lowered herself to her knees.

Her eyes, devout and filled with desire, bored into his own, her gratitude pouring out of her. “Thank you, Master. I really didn’t understand you at first. But now, I know. I was stubborn, and you needed to work around that to make me who I am today. I don’t think I can every truly repay you for this. For everything you have done for me.”

“Oh you most definitely can,” Harry smirked. “Because you will be my loyal follower from now on. Right?”

She nodded eagerly, and Harry smirked when her hand inched forward.

“Go on, show me how self-assured you’ve really become,” Harry encouraged, and Harmony grinned. She made a quick work of his belt and unbuttoned his trousers, pushing her hand inside. He grunted in approval when her hand wrapped around his manhood and she fished it out quickly from its confines, stroking it eagerly.

“You’ve enjoyed your time here in Bulgaria, haven’t you?” Harry asked as he softly stroked her hair, smirking when she subconsciously leaned into his touch.

Stroking him eagerly, she nodded up at him. “I have. I didn’t really expect to, but I really did. More than I thought possible. It’s funny, you know? I thought it’d feel transactional when you first talked about it, or that I’d feel even more guilty, but instead… it felt right. It all feels right now. I’m finally taking control of something I never thought I’d wanted.”

Harry’s smirk deepened, though his face remained composed, and he released a sigh of approval when she parted her lips and wrapped them around the head of his prick, pushing her tongue out and lapping away at the crown.

Control. It was such an illusion he had created for her, and she had embraced it fully. She thought she had been the one making the decisions, the one seducing those men. But it had been him. Always him.

“Ivan and Hugh,” Harry said casually, his voice was deeper as Harmony continued to push her mouth downward until she had half of his cock inside her. “How did they truly take it all? No awkwardness in the end, I assume?”

“None,” she shook her head as she pulled her mouth off his cock, letting out a small laugh as she stroked him. “They were… actually perfect about it. Respectful, even. They both understood it was a one-time thing. I made sure to make that clear, as you asked me to. And I agree. They too accepted it. Although…”

Harry raised an eyebrow as she trailed off. “Although what?”

“I… I realized that although I had so much fun being in control… there’s no substitute to being with you,” she admitted, and Harry’s eyes glinted. “I’ve tried out the forbidden fruit, Master, and I was the one who made that choice. But I’m making a choice again. I… I want to be loyal to you from now on. Completely.”

Harry nodded, a smile of satisfaction on his face. Of course, they accepted it. The memories he had planted in their minds after every encounter had been flawless. They both believed they had fucked Jessica numerous times over the past week, just as she believed she had slept with them on multiple occasions. None knew the truth, apart from him. Additionally, she wanted to remain his faithful from now on, and it amused him to see she believed she had made this choice. He shook his head softly. It was perfect from his standpoint in every sense.

“Well, I’m glad things worked out so masterfully,” Harry nodded for her to continue, and she eagerly took him in her mouth once again, descending lower with every passing second. “You’ve truly come into your own, Harmony. And we’re all better for it.”

She beamed as she gazed up at him with her mouth full of his cock, and Harry smiled as he watched her closely. She was now firmly his – mind, body, and spirit. That little split personality issue that she had developed existed no more. She would never know how deeply he had controlled every aspect of her liberation, and that made it all the more satisfying.

Hermione Weasley née Granger had finally achieved freedom, and he had been the enabler of it all. She would remain his faithful, and from now on, she would want it with her entire being.

-Break-

Harry gripped the edge of his desk, his knuckles white, as his body shuddered with release. Harmony’ breathless moans filled the air, her body arching beneath him as they both rode out the final waves of their combined orgasms. His cock kept shooting rope after rope of his thick, hot seed deep inside her wanton snatch.

She gripped him tightly to herself with her arms and legs wrapped around him. The scent of sweat, musk, and satisfaction hung in the air, their bodies entangled on top of the desk in the aftermath of the intense pounding he had given her.

Harry’s hand slid down her thigh, savoring the feel of her skin, slick with warmth and sweat. His lips clamped down hard on her sensitive neck and breathing heavily, he slowly pulled back. He started at the mark had left there with satisfaction, knowing the hickey would remain.

“I’ll wear it as a badge of honor,” she said breathlessly as she gazed up at him with adoration.

Harry smirked and slowly climbed off her, leaving her lying on top of the desk. Her chest heaved, her breasts showing the firm red marks that stood proof of his firm grasp on them while he’d fucked her. She lazily stretched her arms over her head, her body still humming with the pleasure of their intense sex. There was a contented smile on her face as she gazed at Harry who raked his eyes over her form.

“So…” She began with a little quieter voice. “I guess this is it for now, then?”

Harry pulled on his shirt and slowly buttoned it up as he nodded, his voice calm and authoritative as always. “Yes, for now. Our job’s done here in Bulgaria. It’s time for you to head back to England. There are a few things I’ve got to handle in France, including the ICW Conference.”

She sat up slowly, her pussy tingling as she clenched it, and she smiled when she felt his release deep within her. Harry glanced at her and smirked. She slowly climbed off the table and bent down to pick her clothes up one by one. Rolling his eyes, Harry waved his hand, and all her remaining clothes, from her lingerie set to her skirt, were deposited on the table.

“Thank you,” she said with a smile. She began to put on her bra and knickers, feeling his eyes on her. “And when I’m back in England? What do you want me to do?”

Harry hid back a smirk as he gazed at her. “I want you to go to Pansy first.”

Hermione stiffened at the mention of the former Slytherin. “Parkinson?” She asked, her voice carrying a hint of skepticism.

“You can’t exactly go out looking like that now, can you? She’ll take care of things in my absence. Don’t worry, you can trust her. She knows what to do.”

Hermione was still hesitant as she remarked, “We didn’t exactly get along back then, as you well know. I don’t know if she’d be─”

“I wasn’t exactly chums with her either, and now look at us,” Hary replied with a smirk, cutting her off. “She knows her place now. The last thing she’ll ever do is something that would disappoint me. She may have her… ways, and she has her past, but you’ll find she’s changed now. Besides…” His voice dropped slightly, his eyes darkening with a hint of mischief. “I’m giving you free reign to get involved with her. And with Cissa, if you want to continue.”

Hermione’s eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat, and her hands paused. Chuckling, Harry walked over and stood behind her, snapping her bra back in place.

“Cissa? The other woman who was there?” She asked softly.

Smirking, he held her by the shoulders, feeling goosebumps rising across her skin as he leaned closer to whisper in her ear. “Cissa, or Narcissa Malfoy, formerly, that is.”

He felt her stiffen under his touch and slowly turned her around, watching her gazing at him with wide eyes.

“Surprised? I’m surprised as well that you didn’t figure it out already. She looks much different, but one can tell if one looks closely enough,” Harry smirked. “She’s fully devoted to me as well, and I trust her fully. If you’re feeling adventurous enough, I’m sure the two of them could show you a thing or two. But it’s your choice if you want to get involved with them. However, while I’m not there, you will follow their lead, abide by what they ask you to do. And if you want to explore… more, I’d say you should.”

Hermione glanced sideways, uncertainty flickering in her gaze once more. “I don’t really know, to be honest. Parkinson and I have never seen eye to eye, and Narcissa, well…”

Harry held her by the waist, caressing her bare skin gently. “Listen, Harmony. This is another step for you. You’ve come so far in such a short time, opened yourself up so much. Pansy and Cissa – if you choose – will help you explore even more. You’ve enjoyed the time you’ve spent here, haven’t you?”

Hermione nodded slowly, a faint blush rising to her cheeks as she reminisced about her time here in Bulgaria. She had reveled in the liberation she had attained here and tasted pleasures she had never dreamed possible. However, truly choosing to be involved with Pansy Parkinson and the former Narcissa Malfoy made her hesitate.

Harry resisted the urge to sigh and reached around, firmly grabbing her by the bare rump and pulling her flush against himself. The woman gasped softly, gazing up at him with slightly widened eyes.

“Have I led you wrong thus far? Even when things seemed cruel, it had all been for your benefit. I want you to trust me now as well. Pansy and Cissa are both valuable in their own right. You’ll learn from them, and you’ll grow. Don’t be afraid of what you can become.”

Hermione exhaled slowly, the tension draining from her shoulders. Despite her reservations about the two women, Harry’s words had a way of cutting through her doubts, reassuring her in ways no one else could. She felt the same pull and conviction in his words that had brought her where she stood today, confident in herself and her abilities. She could feel herself wanting to place the same trust in him now that she had placed in him from the beginning.

“All right,” she said finally, her voice soft but steady. “I’ll go to Pansy. And… I’ll see how things go with her and Narcissa.”

Harry gave her a satisfied smirk. “Good girl. You’ll thank me later.”

Hermione gave him a small smile in return. She trusted him, but she knew dealing with the two women would be… interesting, to say the least. She’d already been with them earlier when she’d arrived on the island, so perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad.

“Now put your clothes on. We leave in an hour for the portkey,” he instructed, and she nodded. She quickly dressed herself back up, and just as she put on her blazer, she frowned when he stepped in front of her. Her eyes fell on his outstretched hand and her brows furrowed as she took in what it was.

“What is it?”

“Take it. It’s for you,” Harry said firmly, and Hermione was slightly surprised to note the utter seriousness in his voice. He seemed different now, raw and primal. She slowly reached out and her hand closed around the small piece of vial. Taking it from him, she gazed at the swirling wisp inside it.

“Watch it when you get back,” he instructed, and Hermione found herself nodding. His lips pursed slightly, and Harry nodded back. “Come. We’ll say our goodbyes before we leave. Be sure to remain courteous and not give anything away when you see Ivan or Hugh.”

“Yes, sir,” Hermione said softly, nodding. She quickly schooled her features into a more neutral one as she put the vial in the inside pocket of her blazer. Her mind was fixated on the memory that Harry had given her and she wondered just what it was that he wanted to share with her.

As they walked, Harry glanced at her with pursed lips before he shifted his gaze straight ahead.

Hermione had voluntarily submitted herself to him, and she was now his, in every aspect. It was now time for her to know the truth, and to face the reality that she had been blind to for so long.

If she accepted her fault in pushing him to this path, good for her. If she remained fixated on her path of moral superiority though… well, he would see about that.

-Break-

Just as Harry and Hermione left the facilities of Vratsa Vultures, Pansy Parkinson finished reading out the missive she had received from her Master, gazing at her companion with a small smirk on her face.

Narcissa slowly placed her cup of tea on the table beside her and tilted her head slightly, her grey eyes meeting Pansy’s.

“He’s played this game as masterfully as we thought,” she remarked smoothly. “That woman might feel she’s been in control, but she’s nothing but a pawn in the grand scheme of things.”

“Our Master has always been several steps ahead of everyone,” Pansy said proudly. She crossed the room and sat on the armrest of the chaise, her dark hair cascading over her left shoulder. “He’s always been the master of control.”

“It’s been his plan for her since the start,” Narcissa said with a small smirk. “To give her just as much freedom that she never realizes the chains.”

“Weasley will arrive here with all the pride she’s undoubtedly feeling in herself. She’ll feel empowered… liberated and yet, she’ll never know every single choice she’s made is truly his.”

“We’ll take her through this, as he wants us to,” Narcissa smirked. “I took great fun in ordering that bint around the last time she was here. I can’t wait to put her to good use once again.”

Pansy nodded. “And what about the memory he’s given her? What if she regrets her mistakes?”

“In the unlikely event that it happens, I’d say better late than never,” Narcissa replied. “But do you really think that’d happen?”

Pansy merely shrugged. “I don’t really care in either case, to be honest. All I know is that she’ll always remember where her place is.”

Narcissa nodded with a smirk. “Enough about her. Come over here. I don’t want you to forget where your place is.”

Chuckling, Pansy stood up and approached the blonde who smirked and spread her legs apart. Pansy lowered herself to her knees and gazed up at Narcissa who nodded, and she leaned forward, burying her face between her thighs.

“Oh yes…” Narcissa groaned in approval as she grabbed Pansy’s head and pushed her firmly against her needy quim, feeling her start to eat her out with enthusiasm. “Soon, Weasley. Soon.”

TBC.

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Chapter Text

The French Ministry of Magic, housed in the resplendent Palais des Lumières, was the epitome of elegance as Harry stepped out of the grand golden fireplace in its arrival hall. As he brushed the soot from the hem of his dark robes, his sharp green eyes swept across the room, taking in the grandeur of the space with a quiet appreciation.

Despite the hustle of witches and wizards bustling through the hall, his arrival expectedly did not go unnoticed. Heads turned at once, and it did not take long for hushed whispers to follow, getting louder with every second that passed. After all, his fame was not limited to the borders of the British Isles.

He graced a few people around him with polite smiles, stifling chuckles when he saw the starstruck expressions on their faces and began walking toward the exit when the call of his name halted his steps.

"'Arry!"

Harry turned, his face breaking into a soft smile as a familiar face approached. Someone who once used to barely reach his chest but now stood almost equal, at least on those high heels.

She moved with effortless grace, her silver-blonde hair catching the light as it cascaded over her shoulders. Time had transformed her from the bright-eyed girl who once hero-worshipped him into a confident woman, poised and self-assured.

"Gabrielle," he greeted warmly, extending a hand. However, she ignored the gesture with a light laugh, stepping forward to press a kiss to each cheek in the typical French manner. Her perfume, delicate and floral, brushed against his senses, and Harry took her in.

"It is so good to see you again," she said, her blue eyes sparkling with a mix of warmth and curiosity. "Still as punctual as ever, I see. And still drawing every eye in the room," she teased, glancing over his shoulder at the gathering gawkers.

Harry chuckled, a low, rich sound that made her smile widen. "I think that's more your doing than mine."

She rolled her eyes, letting out a small, tinkling laugh. "Ah, always modest. Come, let's get you away from the crowds. We have much to discuss, and I'll show you to your accommodations. Also, as you must've heard, there have been some changes around."

"Indeed I have," Harry nodded. "Not that the place needed any changes, mind you."

"Yeah, well, the taxpayers' money has to go somewhere," she muttered so that only he could hear, and Harry could not stop himself from chuckling. It was typical.

Smiling, she gestured for him to follow, her long robes sweeping the polished floor as she led him deeper into the Ministry.

Harry had expected subtle changes but even he was surprised to see how much the layout had been transformed. The hallways of the Palais des Lumières were woven with ancient enchantments, and those had been preserved. Moving murals depicted France's most significant moments in magical history. Gabrielle pointed out landmarks as they walked, her tone perfectly familiar with no trace of professionalism to it. If her superiors could hear her talk to a foreign dignitary right now... Harry thought with a chuckle.

"And over there is the Hall of Magical Concords," she said, nodding toward a grand archway. "That's where you stuck-up idiots will bash heads next week. I mean, the preliminary discussions of the ICW will take place there."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll pretend I didn't hear that, as always," Harry remarked with an eye roll, making her snort. She quickly covered it up and moved on.

"Good, and just beyond it is the Archives des Mystères Partagés—our version of the Department of Mysteries, but only the theoretical division. They decided to bring them up so that they could coordinate with the aurors better. Can be accessed only by those with clearance."

"Very different from the British ministry," Harry commented. His gaze lingered on a shimmering fountain they passed. Its enchanted waters twisted into intricate shapes, symbolizing unity.

"We French do enjoy our embellishments," Gabrielle admitted with a small smile. "Though, if I'm honest, I find your Ministry's directness refreshing. Less... pomp, more substance."

Harry arched a brow. "A diplomatic way of saying we lack flair?"

"Not at all," she replied, her voice carrying a light, teasing edge. "I meant it as a compliment. Not everything needs to be dressed in gold to shine."

Their conversation flowed easily, and it didn't feel like they were meeting after almost a year. Gabrielle had always been a cheerful person, and her warmth and confidence put Harry at ease in a way very few could. She was very much like Susan in that regard, and the similarity made him feel comfortable with her.

Yet there was a depth to her now, a maturity that hadn't been there before. Last year, she had joined the French ministry, and from the way she held herself like a proud woman, Harry could easily discern how she had climbed through the ranks in her department over the past year.

It wasn't long before they reached a set of grand double doors, intricately carved with scenes of magical camaraderie. It depicted the emblems of all the ICW nations, with the British coat taking the place of prominence in the middle.

Gabrielle paused, turning to him. "This is where you'll be staying, that is, if you even choose to stay here. Merlin knows where you disappear off to when you're here for these meetings."

Harry gave her a mysterious smile. "Don't ask and I won't tell no lies," he smirked.

"I know better than to ask questions of the great British Head of the DMLE," she retorted exaggeratedly. "Still, have a look at the new one, okay? And then if you stay here or not… well, that's gonna be up to you, as always."

"Aren't you hyping it up a bit much?" Harry asked, amused.

"Well, it's one of the newest ICW's official suites for foreign dignitaries. I believe there can only be the best for Britain's representative, right?" She asked with a wink, making him chuckle.

She pushed the doors open, revealing a luxurious suite bathed in soft, golden light. The living area was furnished with plush armchairs and a gleaming fireplace, while floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of Paris. The Eiffel Tower sparkled in the distance, its golden reflection dancing on the Seine below.

Harry stepped inside, his expression firmly in check. "This is... impressive."

"It should be," Gabrielle said, smiling as she leaned casually against the doorframe, her eyes trained on his figure near the window. "The French Ministry spares no expense when it comes to hosting. Still, I can see you're going to go off somewhere on your own this time as well. Well, at least I tried," she shrugged, sighing.

Harry turned to face her, a small smile playing on his lips. "You've changed, Gabrielle."

Her brows lifted in mock surprise. "Is that your way of saying I've finally grown up?" She asked with a slight edge to her voice and Harry stifled a chuckle. He knew her late maturity due to her heritage was a sore point, as it usually was with every veela.

"Not really in the sense you're thinking, but partly, yes," he admitted, his tone warm. He held his hand up when she opened her mouth, undoubtedly to retort indignantly. "Hear me out first. You're not the girl who used to shy away from me during the Triwizard Tournament or even Fleur's wedding, that's for sure."

"Took you this long to discover, huh?" She snarked, although the edge in her voice was noticeably missing.

Harry smirked as he deliberately looked her up and down, and from the way her fingers twitched against her formal robes, he could say she noticed the motion. Well, her hero worship was gone, but it seemed something else had replaced it. Harry filed that information away for now.

"Believe me, I discovered it last year when we met again, I'll have you know," he said insinuatingly, although he kept his tone as neutral as he could. "But it's more about how you carry yourself now. Why, I can see you taking up the role of a diplomat if you're interested in it."

"Ha, those oldies would piss their pants the day I become a diplomat," she let out a small laugh. "I don't think it's my strong suit either."

"Could've fooled me for a second there," Harry commented. "You held yourself like a proper one out there."

She laughed softly as she approached, the door closing automatically behind her. Joining him by the window, she cast her gaze outside. Harry took a moment to admire just how beautiful she looked with the golden light from the Eiffel Tower in the distance shining on her ethereal face.

When she spoke, her voice was light, but the subtle shift in her tone as she progressed was unmistakable. "A little bit is fine, but any more than that and I'd find myself with a headache. Too much hassle for me," she smiled. "And speaking of changes, don't think I've missed how you've changed either." Her gaze shifted from the tower to him, and Harry turned to her with a raised eyebrow.

"What do you mean?"

Gabrielle let out a small scoff. "Come on, 'Arry. Only the Channel separates our countries. Don't think news doesn't travel quickly. You're no longer the boy who stayed behind in that lake to make sure your competitor's hostage was safe. Or the man who fought to save others without caring for himself for even a second. You were all that and more, once upon a time. But that time is in the distant past now."

Harry did not respond. His eyes had hardened slightly as he continued to gaze at her, and the warmth had disappeared from Gabrielle's voice as well. There was a disgusted curl to her lips now as she gazed at him.

"You know, I always wondered just what happened between you and them," she continued. "You three were inseparable, and I remember during Fleur's wedding how Molly was telling Maman that she hoped the war got over soon because she wanted you to be part of her family for real. Yeah, things seemed pretty serious back then. And what? About a year later? Maybe even before I guess? You weren't even on talking terms with them."

She turned away from him and Harry watched her gently stroke the soft curtains by the window.

"I asked Fleur a few times, but she never told me. Always believed I was too young to know about these things, even though I was an employee at the Ministry by then," she snorted. "Typical Fleur. Always treating me like a child. Well, this time, when she came over for Papa's Remembrance Day, I finally got her to tell me what happened."

Harry sighed. This was a topic he had never discussed with her but she had only gone ahead and found out on her own. He could not blame Fleur for talking about it either. After all, he knew how much she hated all three of them for what they had done.

"We've both grown, Harry," Gabrielle said softly, catching his attention once again. "And we've both changed. I truly grew up, and your situation forced you to change into who you are today. And I'd say it's a change for the better."

There was an extended moment of terse silence as they kept gazing out the window, Gabrielle's hand gently stroking the soft fabric of the curtain. Finally, Harry released a sigh and reached out, taking her hand and squeezing it supportively.

"Your father was a good man," he whispered. "I would've liked to know him better, but from what little time we spent, I could see how much he loved you three. You and Fleur were his pride and joy."

She gazed up at him and nodded, her composure steady but her eyes betraying a flicker of emotion. "Merci," she whispered.

"I know about Fleur and you as well now. How's Apolline doing?"

"Maman 'as been doing well—stronger than I imagined she would be. It's been almost three years now, and you know what they say… Time heals all wounds. Fleur's been a tremendous help, of course, though she's in England now."

"She's found home there at Hogwarts," Harry said. "I met her not too long ago when I went there. She's doing well. Both her and Lavender…" He trailed off, not knowing whether Fleur had told them about her new relationship.

"I never imagined that'd happen, you know? Makes you think how grief can sometimes bring even the unlikeliest of people together. I'm just happy she's found such a close friend nearby," she whispered, and that answered everything. Fleur had not told her folks about her relationship. Harry silently chided himself for slipping up so carelessly like that.

"Gabrielle," Harry sighed. "If there's anything you or your family need..."

"We'll be fine," she said, her smile returning, though softer now as she gazed up at him. She reached up and gently stroked his cheek, smiling when he leaned into her warm touch. "But I appreciate the offer. Truly."

For a moment, silence settled between them, not awkward in the slightest but filled with emotion nonetheless. Mere seconds later, Gabrielle straightened, her usual lightness returning as she stepped away from him, patting her robes and hair gently.

"Now, enough of the heavy stuff. You'll have to come to the Delacour home while you're here. Maman would love to see you, and I won't let you escape without a proper French dinner."

Harry's smile widened, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "I'd like that. It's been far too long."

"Good," she said, her tone decisive. "I'll make the arrangements. But for now, settle in, and if you need anything—anything at all—let me know."

"Thank you, Gabrielle. I will," he smiled.

As she turned to leave, Harry called after her. "Gabrielle?"

She paused in the doorway, glancing over her shoulder. "Yes?"

"It's good to see you again," he said, his voice soft but sincere.

Her lips curved into a gentle smile, her blue eyes meeting his. "Likewise, 'Arry. And welcome to France."

With a parting smile, she slipped out of the room, leaving Harry to the quiet splendor of his suite and the lingering thought of how much had changed within him regarding how he treated people—and how much had oddly remained the same. He was an asshole, and he both knew and accepted that fact. But there were people he genuinely cared about as well, who he wanted nothing but happiness for.

It made him smile slightly to realize that no matter what circumstances had forced him to become, or what he had made himself become, traces of the old Harry Potter remained within him.

-Break-

The mist from the alley clung to the man's coat as he approached the unmarked door nestled beneath a crooked archway. The only indication of its significance was the small brass plaque engraved with delicate runes that shimmered faintly when touched by light.

The words The Veil Exchange illuminated as the man neared, and the moment he knocked, the door emitted a soft hum and unlatched itself. It swung inward with a faint whisper, revealing a quiet, yet richly decorated expanse that seemed far removed from the neighborhood the building was situated in.

The lobby was opulent yet ominous at the same time, as though every detail was designed to both entice and unsettle in equal measure. Walls of dark, polished wood gleamed faintly under the warm glow of floating sconces, their light dancing across velvet drapes in deep emerald and burnished gold. Above, a chandelier hovered mid-air, its crystals suspended as though by invisible strings, shifting gently like a constellation. The faint scent of sandalwood and parchment hung in the air, mixing with the quiet murmur of conversation.

The patrons were as varied as the space itself. Cloaked figures occupied shadowy corners, while others in finely tailored robes sipped from goblets etched with historical inscriptions. A figure clad in dragonhide leaned against the far wall, his eyes sharp as a hawk's, watching the room as if every soul present were a potential threat. Heads turned briefly when the man entered, their scrutiny palpable.

He walked with calculated ease, his fitted charcoal coat brushing against his legs. The brim of his hat cast a shadow over his face, adding an extra layer of mystery. He could feel their eyes on him, weighing, assessing, but no one dared approach.

He reached the reception desk, a counter of black marble veined with silver, and the woman standing behind it looked up, her violet eyes gleaming with recognition.

"Well," she said, her voice rich and smooth, "if it isn't Blackthorn."

The man tilted his head in acknowledgment, allowing a faint smile to play on his lips.

"You remember me," he said, his modified tone light, almost playful. "I'm flattered."

The woman's lips quirked into a knowing smile. Her dark hair, loose and glossy, framed a face that seemed both ageless and full of secrets.

She leaned her elbows on the counter, her posture casual but her eyes piercing, as the plunging neckline of her black dress fell forward, exposing more of her than was deemed proper. However, this was the only man who she would ever let see her like this.

A knowing, excited flutter erupted within her when she saw his eyes dip to her pronounced cleavage, memories of their time together resurfacing within her mind. It had been a year since they'd last been together, but it still felt like yesterday.

"Flattered? Hardly. I never forget a face, especially one that's so... distinctive." She let the word hang in the air like a challenge. "But don't worry, your secret's safe here."

"Is it?" The man murmured, resting his gloved hand on the edge of the counter. His voice was lower now, quieter, the faintest edge of tension creeping into his tone.

She tilted her head, her expression unreadable. "You wouldn't have come back if you thought otherwise. Now, what can I do for you tonight, Mr. Blackthorn?"

"A room," the man said simply. "Somewhere quiet. Out of the way. You know the one."

Her fingers trailed over the surface of the desk as if considering. Then, without looking, she reached into a drawer and pulled out an ornate key, its surface etched with raven feathers.

"The Raven Suite," she said, placing it before him. Her hand lingered on the key for a moment. "Private, secure... and it has an excellent view of the main street outside. I think you'll find it suits your needs."

"You don't need to give me the whole sales pitch," the man muttered as he reached for the key. However, before he could take it, her hand lifted, and her violet eyes fixed on his face with an almost disarming intensity.

"Long time," she said softly, her tone dropping to something more intimate. "Since the last time, I mean."

The man paused, his fingers hovering over the key. "It has been," he admitted. "Things got... complicated."

"They always do," she said with a soft laugh, her gaze never leaving his. "But I'd wager you came out of it stronger. You always were good at surviving the impossible."

The man finally picked up the key, his gloved fingers curling around the cool metal. "It's a talent," he said dryly. "And you were always good at making things happen when it mattered."

Her smile widened, and there was a tinge of wistfulness to it now. "We all have our skills, don't we? Some of us just prefer to stay in the shadows." She straightened, smoothing an invisible wrinkle in her dark robes. "Though you've never been one for shadows, have you?"

"I've learned to adapt," the man replied evenly.

Her eyes flicked over his face, her expression softening almost imperceptibly. "Still, it's good to see you, even if it's like this. Tales of your progress over the past year have reached across the Channel. Good to see you're purging them so effectively now. But the recent developments…"

"Better discussed in private," the man interrupted.

"Certainly," she nodded, inclining her head. "Your items have already been deposited in your suite."

"Aren't you as sharp as ever?" He smiled.

"I have paid a long, hard price for it," she said with a shrug, though he detected the undercurrent of rage in her voice. "It's a dangerous world. And places like this? They don't run on charm alone."

A flicker of movement from the far side of the room caught her attention. A hooded figure had turned their chair slightly, their posture tense as they watched the exchange. The woman's gaze hardened slightly, and she leaned closer, her voice dropping.

"You've drawn some eyes tonight," she said. "More than usual."

"I noticed," the man murmured. "It comes with the territory. Especially now since they're getting active once again…"

She nodded. "They won't dare take the first step, even if they suspect anything. Still… If you need anything... anything at all…"

He pocketed the key and met her gaze, a flicker of gratitude passing between them. "Always a pleasure."

"Likewise," she said, her tone shifting back to its earlier smoothness. "Enjoy your stay, Mr. Blackthorn."

As he ascended, he could still feel the stares boring into his back from below. The Veil Exchange was a haven for those who trafficked in secrets, but even here, trust was scarce, and strangers were a curiosity—and a threat.

At the top of the stairs, he glanced over his shoulder. The woman at the desk was already speaking with another guest, her demeanor as poised and enigmatic as ever. But for just a second, she glanced up, her violet eyes meeting his, and the faintest nod passed between them.

It was enough. For now.

-Break-

The familiar suite greeted him as he walked in. The walls were deep ebony, paneled with a sheen that reflected the flickering flames of a fireplace already roaring to life. The furniture was a mix of sleek modernity and classic wizarding opulence: a low-backed, leather couch, a glass-topped table etched with protective runes, and a bar counter stocked with rare liquors from every corner of the magical world.

He closed the door behind him, feeling the locking, silencing, and privacy wards take hold, and the room warmed up immediately, the chill from outside dissipating.

With a casual wave of his hand, he vanished his hat and coat, the gloves, boots, and socks following suit, and leisurely divested himself of his shirt and trousers, leaving only his boxers in place. The firelight danced across his bare skin, the warmth of the room wrapping around him like a physical embrace as he padded over to the side of the room where a small desk sat against the wall, its surface laden with neatly stacked parchment, photographs, and small glass vials containing swirling memories. As he got closer, a faint trace of sandalwood lingered, and his lips curled into a faint smile.

She was not here yet, but she'd made sure to send an essence of her. It would do until she arrived.

-Break-

He emerged from the pensieve roughly an hour later, wandlessly canceling the alert ward he had placed behind. As he walked over to the couch, the topmost parchment caught his eye. It was a dossier marked with the Veil Exchange's sigil—a raven clutching a scroll. He reached out and picked it up.

The photograph attached on the front page was of a balding man with beady eyes and a hooked nose. His thin lips twitched into a nervous smile before he looked away, fidgeting.

Sneering, he raked his eyes over the details.

Name: Malcolm Budd.

Status: Alive.

Alibi: Low-level potioneer under the alias "Gareth Peakes."

Notes: Suspected of assisting Voldemort in creating non-lethal poisons for interrogation. Witnesses claim he's been seen consorting with others who share Death Eater ideology. Possible link to the resurgence of pro-Voldemort factions in Eastern Europe.

He studied the accompanying notes. Budd was operating under plain sight in various wizarding settlements across Wizarding France, Belgium, Netherlands, and Denmark. An unremarkable potion-maker who would normally go unnoticed, but someone had put the pieces together.

He mulled over it for a moment. The man had been given the freedom to move about in Western countries, which meant it must have been out of the ordinary for him to be connected to someone from Eastern Europe.

"Lapse on their part, our gain," he muttered snidely. These lots were not revolutionaries, as they liked to claim. They were thugs. Opportunists who clung to whatever scraps of power they could find.

He put the dossier away, and the next one that he picked up turned out to be far more troubling. The picture was of a witch with sharp cheekbones and thin lips, her blonde hair tied back severely, and there was a confident smirk on her face as she stared at him.

"Hmm. A pretty face, but she's a resourceful one," he muttered, taking in the details, and his eyes paused momentarily on one particular piece of information.

Name: Vinda Rosier

Status: Alive. Fugitive.

Alibi: Private dueling instructor for noble families in Wizarding France under the pseudonym "Daphne Greengrass".

Notes: Once a close associate of Bellatrix Lestrange during their Hogwarts days. Known for ruthless spellwork and an affinity for the Cruciatus Curse. Responsible for the murders of Cyrus and Ingrid Greengrass. Had allegedly been kept overseas by Voldemort to coordinate expansion plans once Britain had been conquered. The most likely mastermind behind rising dissent in Eastern Europe and may be coordinating international safe houses for wanted Death Eaters.

Now, he had to give it to the woman. She did look remarkably young, and she had taken advantage of a poor family's situation quite brilliantly—one that she must have caused with pride.

He had never heard of her before, and it was perhaps a testament to both her importance and her abilities that he had not. It was a slight misstep on his part as well, considering he was the Head of the British DMLE and as such, should have rigorously gone through all the known criminals that were on the run.

Shrugging, he put the dossier back on the table. It was not that big of a headache anyway, and if things got bad, then he could take care of them with ease, just as he had done the previous time.

As he kept flipping through the files, the soft click of the hidden door sliding open interrupted his focus.

"Finally free, are you?" He called out, not looking up from the dossier.

The scent of sandalwood reached him first, followed by the faint whisper of fabric brushing against bare skin. She crossed the room with the quiet grace of a panther, her sheer black nightgown clinging to her in ways that demanded undivided attention but earned none from him—not yet.

"Am I?" she replied lightly, her voice smooth and faintly amused. She stopped at the bar, running her fingers along the glassware. "Here I thought you'd be as excited as I am. Lost interest in me now that you've got my sister?"

Harry glanced up briefly at that, making sure his gaze told her what he didn't feel words were needed for. His eyes took in her dark hair that fell loosely down her back, and how the firelight framed her sharp, striking features. The nightgown, sheer as it was, revealed enough to stir most men into distraction. He kept his eyes on her for a few more seconds, taking her in fully, before he returned his gaze to the dossier without missing a beat.

"You've been busy," he said, lifting another parchment and scanning it.

"Always am." She began assembling ingredients for drinks, her movements fluid and practiced. "You have questions, I assume?"

Harry picked up a parchment and gazed at it. "Your old friend—Rosier. You believe she's building safehouses and is the mastermind of this new uprising."

"I don't just think that. I know that."

"Yeah, well… Any chance she's tied to the French Ministry, given she's giving exclusive services to the nobles under the name of a family she destroyed?"

"Interested in the Greengrasses, are we?" She asked with amusement shining in her voice. "Merlin, men and their lust."

Harry released a soft sigh. "We can discuss that later. Right now, the fake Greengrass, if you please."

"She's smarter than that," the woman replied, pouring a dark amber liquid into a glass. "But her connections? Not so much. One of her runners was intercepted near Lyon two months ago. Didn't say much before he... expired, but enough to point fingers."

"What about Budd and Travers?"

"Lump the rest in with those two and you won't lose anything," she said, dismissively waving her hand as she added a twist of lemon peel to his drink. "They'll all give themselves away eventually. Cowards always do. All you need to take care of is to not operate on foreign soil like you do across the Channel. The French have their pride as well, you see. They won't like a foreigner coming over and cleaning their mess."

"Should've done a better job then," Harry shook his head.

"Why are you complaining?" She asked, amused. "It's all under control. Let the brats run around for a bit. They'll play, they'll fall, they'll get hurt. And then you can easily put them to sleep like a good master does."

Harry snorted softly but didn't respond.

"Now, Vinda though… She's a slippery one. Lucius used to be so jealous of her, if you can believe that. You'll need to try a bit if you want to get to her, legally, I should add. Otherwise you can go right now and squash her like a bug. She can't stand against you," she said, levitating two glasses off the bar. They floated toward him, settling neatly on the table in front of the couch.

She picked up one of the glasses, took a sip, and slid onto his lap with the ease of someone who'd had enough practice.

"Comfortable?" He asked dryly, taking his glass and resting his free hand on her inner thigh.

"Very," she said, smiling lazily as she leaned back against his chest. "You should be too. Britain overworks you. Ungrateful idiots… Don't even know how to treat their national hero."

"I think they've learned their lessons by now," he chuckled as he downed his drink, letting its warmth spread through his chest before setting it back on the table. He reached for the dossiers again, but she stopped him with a hand on his wrist.

"Not now," she murmured. "You'll drive yourself mad with work."

Harry gazed up at her, his green eyes piercing as they met her dark violet ones. She slowly began to lower herself, shifting in his lap until she was properly straddling him. His hands automatically came around to cup a cheek each and he gave them a firm squeeze.

"Mmm…" she moaned, her lips hovering right above his. Their hot breaths mixed, their eyes closed, as she pressed her hot body against him. "Imagine telling our younger selves that we'd be like this in a few years."

Harry chuckled. "That idiot version of me would've called his older self a dark wizard for even thinking about this."

"Hmm," she moaned as she felt him start to move her against himself. His manhood, hidden under the thin fabric of his boxers, was already hard and pushing hotly against her needy quim. "Fuck, it's been over a year since I've had this. You can enjoy whoever you want in Britain, but have you ever thought how tough it is for me to manage without you?"

"Why? The stimulation's not enough?"

"There's no substitute to the real thing, Master," she whispered.

Smirking, Harry pulled back slightly, his piercing green eyes fixed on her. They were dark with a hunger that wasn't entirely carnal. Her eyes were clouded with lust of a different kind but were still filled with the same devotion—she had truly come a long way.

"That's the punishment we agreed on, remember?" He asked, his voice low and deliberately gruff. "You might've not wanted to do it really, but you did do it."

The slight heat in his tone only seemed to ignite something wilder in her, and her lips parted, her breath hitching. Harry could feel the heat oozing off her in waves, and he smirked.

"But master… I wasn't…" She began, her voice almost pleading, though her excitement was unmistakable.

"Shh…" Harry shushed her, caressing her rear gently. "I know. I know."

He pulled her closer, their bodies flush against each other, and his voice dropped to a whisper as his hand tightened on her. "And I've been thinking about it. My revenge," he paused, his lips grazing her ear, "which seems rather foolish in hindsight now, is fulfilled, which means your punishment's over now. You do know what that means, don't you?"

Her eyes wide, she asked, "You mean…?"

"I do," Harry smirked. "When I leave here, you're coming with me. To live with us. At our new home. With your sister." He leaned in further, their breaths mixing hotly once again. His voice was laced with finality as he whispered, "Because that's where you belong, Bella."

The heavy silence stretched for a long time before her lips curled, the previous lust returning with vengeance. Harry's hold on her rear tightened, and so did hers around his neck as she gazed at him with eyes that glinted with wild, unrestrained passion.

"You're the best master anyone could ever ask for," she growled, her voice thick with lust and gratitude.

Without another word, she surged forward, claiming his mouth in a fierce, almost feral kiss, her body pressing against his as though she couldn't bear to be apart. Harry met her with equal fervor, his fingers digging into her skin as their world collapsed into the heat of the moment.

His younger self would've indeed told him to fuck off, but his younger self didn't know the things he did.

TBC.

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Chapter Text

The air was thick with lust and arousal, mixing with the scent of expensive whiskey that lay forgotten on the small table as Harry and Bella collided in a heated kiss, their lips slamming ferociously. Their bodies were flush against each other, with only thin layers of clothing separating them.

Their lips moved in perfect sync, their tongues rolling about as they kissed. Bella had her hands in his hair, pulling him closer against herself while Harry held her by her pert arse, his fingers sinking into the pillowy flesh as he pulled her against him, his demeanor demanding, as if he wanted to consume her whole.

The fire danced in the fireplace, casting a faint glow around the suite as they made out, their hips slamming and gyrating into one another. Their hands moved just enough to feel each other, groping and caressing in equal measure as they sought to have as much of the other as possible. Their breaths were one, and so seemed their bodies, moving against each other with an enthusiasm that stood proof enough of their desire for each other.

Bella, clad in a sheer black nightdress that left little to the imagination, and a matching set of black lingerie, was doing her best to feel him against her womanhood, pressing hard against him as she gyrated on his erection. A large, wet patch could already be seen on the fabric of Harry's boxers—the only item of clothing he had on, and he moved her back and forth, humping against her.

His hands gripped her hips tightly, keeping her flush against him. He could feel her heat through the thin fabric of her nightdress, her breath coming in short gasps as she ground against him.

"Master," she whispered against his lips, her voice a husky purr that sent his cock lurching against her pussy, making her groan in pleasure. "I've been waiting for this for so long…"

Harry growled, his fingers sinking deeper into her ass, squeezing the firm flesh. "And I've been looking forward to claim what's mine, Bella."

She smiled as she pulled back even more, and the slow, sultry curve of her lips promised sinful delights.

"Allow me, Master," she purred, and Harry watched with satisfaction as she slowly slid off his lap, his hands leaving her arse with a firm smack that made her grin nastily at him. She dropped to her knees that hit the plush carpet with a soft thud. Gazing up at him in adoration, she reached up and put her hand on the wet fabric, feeling his erection through his boxers. Her eyes shifted to his bulge, and as if mesmerized, she leaned over and ran her wet tongue over the patch, moaning lewdly. Her hands went to the waistband of his boxers and Harry lifted his hips when he felt her pulling them down, freeing his already hard cock. Her lustful grin widened as she pulled his boxers over his knees and allowed them to drop by his feet.

She looked up at him, her eyes dark with desire, and with another wink, she leaned over and ran her tongue along his length, making him hiss in approval. She grinned up at him, undoubtedly proud of herself for eliciting such a reaction from him, and reached up to grab him.

"I've wanted to feel you for so long," she whispered reverently, leaning forward to taste him again. Harry's breaths came out in a shudder when she touched the tip of his cock with her tongue, slowly rolling it around the head, and without preamble, she took him into her mouth.

Harry's head fell back, a groan tearing from his throat as Bella's hot, wet mouth enveloped him. Her tongue swirled around the head of his cock, tasting him, teasing him, before she took him deeper, her hand working in tandem with her mouth. He felt her slick wet mouth slide down his cock, her tongue lapping away eagerly all over his length, until she had taken him all the way inside her mouth, pushing her nose firmly against his groin.

She coughed slightly as she pulled away, furiously stroking his slick length as she gazed up at him with her eyes full of worship.

"I remember when I was like this the first time," she grinned.

"And you were wearing a similar nightdress back then as well," Harry chuckled, recalling that day with absolute clarity.

"I hope you'll take this one off just like you did with that one," she winked, and quickly plunged her mouth onto his cock once again.

Harry chuckled as he reached out, threading his fingers through her dark hair, caressing her scalp as he guided her mouth on his cock. She was as eager as he remembered her being, and just like she did with everything, she was as enthusiastic while she pleasured him as well.

He had indeed made the right decision sparing her life when he first laid eyes on her all those years back in the Forbidden Forest.

Bella bobbed her head furiously on his cock, spittle flying out as she deepthroated him. Harry let out a soft grunt when she let out a soft moan, the vibrations traveling from his cock straight through his entire being. He looked down at her, her head bobbing in his lap, her eyes closed in ecstasy, and he knew he wouldn't last long if she kept this up.

"Bella," he warned, his voice a low growl. "If you keep that up, I'm going to come in that pretty little mouth of yours."

She hummed around him once again, the vibration sending shockwaves of pleasure through him, and then she pulled back, her lips glistening. "That's the point, Master," she said, her voice breathy. "It's been so long since I've tasted you. Surely I deserve that much for being your little faithful servant? Your little slut?"

Harry's cock twitched at her words, and he knew he could not argue against her, not that he wanted to. He let her continue, his hands fisting in her hair, guiding her as she sucked him. But he wanted more. He wanted to feel her come undone around him.

As if reading his mind, Bella's hand moved between her legs, pushing the thin fabric of her lace knickers aside. She moaned around his cock as her fingers found her clit, rubbing herself in time with her movements on him. The sensation overtook all the control she had, and she began to wildly bob her head on his prick as she moaned loudly around his length. The vibrations that shot through him and the sight of her pleasuring herself while she sucked him off was almost too much to bear.

"Fuck, Bella," Harry groaned, his hips jerking as he felt his orgasm building. "I'm going to come."

She moaned again, her fingers moving faster, rubbing furious circles around her clit as she felt herself getting worked up beyond measure. She pushed two of her fingers inside her needy quim, feeling her hot wetness as she kept plunging them in and out of her pussy.

Harry let out a grunt as he finally came, his cock pulsing in her mouth. He shot rope after rope of his thick, white seed deep inside her throat, watching with approval as she swallowed every drop. She continued to suck him, her fingers still moving between her legs, until he had shot every drop he had left within him in this session. His breathing ragged, he gazed down at her and found her swallowing the last vestiges of cum that he had given her.

However, Bella wasn't done yet. She stood, her nightdress riding up her thighs, and straddled him again, her fingers still wet with her juices. Harry felt her juices drip onto his thighs as she leaned forward, pressing herself eagerly against him. She brought her fingers to his mouth, painting his lips with her arousal.

"Taste me, Master," she whispered, her voice laced with desire. "Taste how much I want you."

Harry growled, his hands going to her ass, pulling her closer. He licked her fingers clean, his tongue swirling around them, tasting her, teasing her. She moaned, her head falling back, her hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of ink as she wrapped her other arm around his neck.

Her fingers, slick with his saliva, popped out of his mouth and Bella slowly opened her eyes. She quickly wrapped both her arms around his neck as he stood, lifting her with him, and carried her to the bed. He leaned over and laid her down, her legs dangling over the edge, and in no time, he was on his knees, his hands parting her legs as he pushed his face between them. He pushed her sheer nightdress up, his hands running up her thighs, making her mewl as she grasped the bedsheets in fists. Leaning forward, he took a deep sniff of her arousal, feeling his own spiking higher, and with deliberate slowness, he pushed her knickers to the side, exposing her bald, pink twat to his hungry gaze.

"You look as hot as you did back then," he whispered, leaning forward to taste her. Bella lurched on the bed, a loud moan escaping her, when she felt his tongue lick around her lower lips, tasting her, teasing her, before his fingers joined the fray. He stroked her womanhood, working her up as he licked her juices, before he parted her folds and ran his tongue along her slit.

Bella cried out when he finally pressed harder and pushed his tongue inside, clamping his mouth hard on her pussy. Her hands, fisting in the sheets, tightened as her hips bucked against his mouth. He held her down firmly with his hands on her hips, and he eagerly feasted on her, his tongue swirling and plunging in and out of her pussy before being replaced by his fingers as he began pumping in and out of her. His mouth found her clit and he sucked on it harshly, rolling the hard nub around with his tongue.

"Master," she panted, her voice ragged with desire. "Please, I need you inside me."

Lustfully, Harry growled, his cock already hard again at her words. It slapped against his inner thighs as he stood, grabbing her by the thighs and positioning her properly on the bed. He climbed over her, and Bella eagerly parted her legs for him. Harry grinned and wasted no time as he aligned himself against her wet entrance. He faced no resistance and slid into her wet heat with ease.

Bella moaned, her legs wrapping around him as she pulled him deeper within herself. He held himself still for a moment before he started to move, his hips thrusting against hers. Loud, wet squelches filled the air, combined with his grunts and her moans of pleasure as he hammered away inside her, his cock filling her completely. Her eyes were wide with lust and devotion as she gazed up at him, slamming her hips upward as she met him thrust for thrust. Her large tits, still within the confines of both her lace bra and that sheer nightdress, were bouncing alluringly with the force of their lovemaking.

Harry leaned down, his mouth finding hers in a searing kiss, and she melted against him, her toes curling. Their tongues tangled as he continued to thrust into her. She moaned into his mouth, her fingers digging into his back, her nails scoring his skin.

With one hand holding himself hovering over her, Harry reached between them with the other, his fingers finding her clit easily. He began rubbing it in time with his thrusts, and she cried out, her body tensing as suddenly, to her utter shock, her orgasm washed over her. She let out a loud wail as she shivered violently under him, and he felt her contract around him, her inner muscles squeezing him firmly as if trying to milk him for everything he had. Harry resisted, holding himself back as Bella convulsed beneath him, her breathing ragged and desperate as she gazed up at him with wide, wild eyes.

He kept fucking her through her orgasm, relishing her mewls and cries as she kept shivering beneath him, and finally, he stopped, rolling over so that they were lying side by side, his lips clamping down on her neck as he sucked and nibbled greedily.

Bella immediately crushed herself to him, wrapping her arms and legs around him as she kept jerking erratically, feeling wave upon wave of pleasure coursing through her, until she gained enough semblance of sanity to form words.

"M-Master," she whispered, her voice soft. "That was… incredible."

Harry smirked, his lips curving against her neck. "It was, wasn't it?" he said, his voice filled with authority and tenderness as he leaned back and regarded her. "But we're not done making up for a year yet, Bella. Not by a long shot."

She shivered, her body already responding to his words as she gazed deeply into his emerald pools with an excited look on her face. Smirking, he pulled off her, chuckling when her arms and legs tried to remain wrapped around his body, and took her with him, bringing her to her feet on the floor. He turned her around so that they both were facing the large mirror in front of them and keeping his eyes locked with her into the reflection, he wrapped his arms around her, resting his palms over her lower belly.

"I remember that day as clear as this mirror," he whispered, sensuously caressing the side of her neck with his lips, making her sigh in contentment. She watched them in the mirror, her eyes on his hands as they roamed over her body, slowly but surely sliding her nightdress up with every motion. Her panties were exposed now as he continued, his hands touching the undersides of her tits for mere seconds before sliding back down again.

"We were like this back then as well," she moaned in approval, lifting her arms over her head, and Harry took the opportunity to slide her nightdress over her head. She quickly pulled her arms out, and he threw the sheer garment on the floor. "Even then, you took off my night dress like this."

"I definitely did," he whispered hotly in her ear, making her shiver. His eyes took in her sexy figure in the mirror, clad in nothing but a pair of black lace bra and knickers, with her large tits heaving within their confines and her knickers pushed aside, her pussy red and pulsating. "And if I'd known it before, I would've freed you from that bastard's influence long before his death."

"It was his death that lifted his curse off me, Master," Bella moaned, feeling his erection pressing into her from behind.

"True that," Harry agreed. "And you were so grateful for it that you pledged yourself to me—mind, body, and soul."

Bella gasped in delight when he pushed his fingers back inside her orgasmic pussy once again, probing and prodding as he played with her.

"You always loved to worship someone powerful, didn't you? A naturally devoted woman you are," he whispered. "Something he abused by bending your will in its entirety like he did."

"He was a bastard!" Bella growled. "He abused my faith in him. He turned me into that hideous bitch! The daughter of the Blacks, reduced to a mad cunt who even killed her blood because she could no longer think for herself!"

"Shhh…" Harry whispered, palming her bald pussy as he wrapped his other arm tightly around her, pulling her heaving form firmly against himself. "It's all in the past now. That bastard's dead, and you are with me."

Bella breathed heavily, trying to calm herself down, and Harry kept caressing and stroking her.

"Now, why don't we channel this agitation of yours into something more pleasurable and productive?" Harry smirked as he quickly unhooked her bra, pulling it off her and rendering her tits naked to his appreciative gaze. "You've been taking care of yourself nicely. Good girl."

"Only the best for my one true Master," she replied, smiling.

Harry smirked, his hand going to her panties, and in no time, he had them off her. As Bella kicked them away, they stood, naked in front of the mirror, and both their eyes roamed over her naked reflection.

"Let's go," Harry whispered and easily lifted her in his arms bridal style. She grinned at him on their way over, her hand caressing his chest as he walked toward the bar counter. She deftly picked up a bottle of red wine on their way over, smirking as he set her on a barstool.

"I hope you know the drill?" He asked with a smirk, slowly lowering himself on one knee and parting her legs. He began to trail featherlight kisses up her legs, one after the other, taking time to tease her inner thighs, and in no time, he found himself tasting a teasing mix of the wine, her sweaty skin, and her orgasmic fluids as she held the bottle over herself, pouring the sweet wine down her body. The red fluid fell on her upper chest with a splash and she moved the bottle from one side to the other, pouring the liquid over and between the valley of her tits.

Most of the wine would've normally cascaded to the floor, but Harry, having no intention of allowing any bit of the sensual mix to go to waste manipulated the trail magically, making it all pour over her vaginal slit where he kept eagerly gulping it all down.

Bella could only watch, her arousal mounting once again as her Master tasted multiple essences all at once, her pussy throbbing with need once again. His tongue moved over and against her lower lips as he gulped, and soon, he began to tease her clit once again.

She moaned in approval, pleasure coursing through her very being as the bottle of wine emptied. She shook it over her tits, and when the final few drops shot out of it, she threw it away. The bottle fell on the cushioned floor with a thud and rolled away.

"Open wide, Bella," Harry instructed, manipulating the trail of the sensual mix so that it flowed in the air in an arc, and Bella, grinning, opened her mouth, allowing her Master to pour it all in. She gulped the wine down eagerly, tasting herself in the sweetness, as he got to his feet.

"Time to get you cleaned, I guess," he smirked, and picked her up once again, carrying her over to the bathroom as Bella swiped a finger on her tits and held it out, giggling when he promptly took it in his mouth and began swirling his tongue around the digit.

The suite was the best of the best, and the opulence of the bathroom reflected it. He carried her over and set her down in the massive shower, turning it on. The water was enchanted with calming and rejuvenating properties, and as he stepped in with her, the hot water cascaded over their bodies. Not only was it washing away the evidence of their lovemaking but also any fatigue they might have accumulated.

Standing behind her, Harry grabbed the cleaning mix and poured some into his hands, feeling its effects seeping into his skin. He reached out and ran his foam-covered hands over her body, starting with her neck, moving down to her shoulders and upper chest, and then he was washing her in earnest, his hands roaming all over and playing with her massive jugs, cleaning any hint of red wine and sweat off them. He mauled them eagerly, pulling and pressing them together, playing with her nipples while he relished her moans and sighs of pleasure.

Smirking, he stepped closer, pushing his cock between the crack of her ass which she responded to by meeting him halfway, pressing herself eagerly against him. He began running his hands all over her body, cleaning her, caressing her, and pleasuring her.

Bella moaned, her head falling back against his chest, and Harry immediately leaned closer to claim her lips in a heated kiss. His hands worked their magic all over her front, starting from her neck and moving all the way down to her pussy before climbing up the same route and repeating it over and over again as they kissed.

Soon, it was his turn and he simply stood under the running shower as Bella cleaned him up all over, taking more time than necessary with his crotch. He gazed at the woman on her knees as she fondled and caressed his cock and balls, gazing up at him with a grin.

"I remember cleaning you like this back then as well," she remarked, making him chuckle.

When they were both clean, he turned off the water, and together, they stepped out of the shower. He grabbed a towel, wiping her body clean and drying her up, just as she returned the favor, and without bothering to wrap anything around themselves, Harry picked her up once again, although this time, he grabbed her by the ass and lifted her, making her wrap her arms and legs around him, bringing her pussy to rest right over his erection. She immediately began to gyrate against him, feeling his length sliding between her pussy lips and against her wet slit.

Harry carried her back to the bedroom and threw her down on the bed. She fell with a giggle, her breasts bouncing around as she came to a stop, and hungrily, she gazed up at him. She was ready for another round, and as she gazed between his legs, she discovered that so was he.

Harry stood on the edge of the bed, his eyes roaming over her body. Slowly, he climbed on the bed and lay down next to her, gazing at her with a smirk. He reached out, his hand cupping her breast and giving it a soft squeeze, and his thumb rubbed gently against her nipple. She moaned, her back arching as her nipple hardened under his touch.

He leaned down, his mouth finding her nipple, and he sucked it into his mouth. She cried out, her hands going to his head, holding him to her. He switched to her other breast, giving it the same attention, his hands roaming over her body as he caressed and teased her.

Slowly, he moved down her body, his mouth trailing kisses over her breasts, her stomach, her hips, and her thighs. He gently pushed her legs apart, his eyes taking in her swollen lips, and he leaned forward, his mouth finding her center. His tongue slid out, spearing into her wet heat as he caressed her inner thighs, working her up. All this while, Bella could do nothing but moan and sigh in pleasure, and when his mouth finally clamped down on her womanhood, her hips began to automatically rise to meet him, her fingers tangling in his hair as she kept her legs spread far apart.

He kept sucking and licking her pussy eagerly, pushing her closer to the edge with each passing second, and finally, he reached up, his fingers finding her clit, and he began rubbing it in time with his tongue.

Bella cried out, her body tensing as to her utter disbelief, another of her orgasms washed over her. He continued to lick her, his fingers joining the fray as they began pumping in and out of her, drawing out her orgasm until she was limp with satisfaction. She was a hot, shivering mess by the time he was done with her, gazing up at him with a delirious grin on her face.

"What did I do to deserve so much tonight, Master?" She asked with the same grin.

Harry smirked, stroking himself at the sight of her sprawled on the bed with her legs spread wide, displaying her orgasmic pussy to his appreciative gaze.

"I just decided I treated you enough like a guilty party, Bella," he replied. "This is just me making up for what you've been missing out on."

"My kind master," she purred, and spread her legs even further apart, her eyes beckoning him with a silent invitation.

He smirked, his cock already hard at the sight of her sinful body. He reached out and ran a hand over her curves, giving her tits a firm squeeze before he reached her neck. Bella's eyes gleamed when she felt his hand wrap around her neck and grab her firmly.

"But I've made up enough now," he grinned promisingly. "It's now time to take you like the bitch you are, Bella."

An excited gleam entered Bella's eyes as he grabbed her hips, flipping her over onto her hands and knees effortlessly. She grinned excitedly, gazing at him over her shoulder as he maneuvered her properly in place. He stood behind her on his knees and positioned himself at her entrance, his hands gripping her hips. He pushed forward, and she felt him sliding into her, his cock filling her completely.

She moaned, her head thrown forward as her back arched in pleasure, her hair cascading down her back. He started to move and slowly began to pick up his pace, his hips thrusting against hers, and his cock filling her over and over again. Eager, she met him thrust for thrust, her hips slamming back to meet him, and her breasts bouncing and slapping together with the force of their lovemaking as they dangled erotically under her.

He reached around, his hands grabbing her tits, and he began to maul and squeeze them as he fucked her, his cock slamming in and out of her pussy with reckless abandon. His heavy balls slapped against her skin, and the lewd sound of his skin clapping against her skin echoed around the room. None of its occupants cared though as they succumbed to the pleasure they were deriving from each other.

Bella's breathing grew ragged once more as she felt another orgasm rushing toward the edge. She could not believe this was happening! Her body was betraying her, obeying her Master's commands, it felt, as orgasm after orgasm seemed intent to tear through her at his very command. When his fingers found her clit and he began rubbing it in time with his thrusts, she could do nothing but cry out, her body tensing as another orgasm crashed through her.

She would've called over in a heap if not for the firm grasp he had on her tits as he mauled them, and holding her by those very tits, Harry pulled her up so that she was standing on her knees in front of him, with her back flush against his front. With one hand rubbing firm circles over her clit and the other squeezing her breast, Harry kept thrusting as hard as he could inside her. He felt her hot inner walls contract around him, her inner muscles working overdrive in their efforts to milk him, and finally, he allowed himself to let go. The head of his cock expanded as it began pulsing inside her, filling her up with his seed. Bella moaned out loud at the sensation, and she could do nothing when he brought her down on the bed with himself, fucking her furiously from behind as they lay on their sides, her legs spread apart and him still shooting his load deep inside her quivering and orgasmic snatch.

Their breaths were coming in ragged gasps by the time they were done. Harry leaned against her, as she did against him. She held his hand over her breast that he was holding her to himself with, his softening cock slowly sliding out of her cramped pussy, and she could not help but let out a pleasure-filled moan.

Slowly, she turned her head, her lips finding him, kissing him softly. He kissed her back, his arms wrapping around her, holding her close.

As they pulled away, Bella turned around in his embrace and buried herself against him. Smiling in contentment, Harry pulled her close and closed his eyes.

Only a few years ago, she had been the woman he hated the most. She had been the woman he had wanted to die. She was the same woman who had killed his godfather. And she was the only person whom he had cast the Cruciatus Curse on, albeit failing miserably at that.

However, here they were, years later, naked and satisfied in each other's arms as she sought to pleasure and satisfy him to the best of her abilities.

To think that none of this would've happened if not for Voldemort who had destroyed that Horcrux he had inadvertently housed within his biggest enemy.

As Harry's eyes closed, his mind drifted to the events of the past—the ones that had shaped Bella's destiny so significantly, and not only freed her from Voldemort's clutches but also brought her to his service.

TBC.

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Chapter Text

The day was crystal clear in Harry's mind, for it was the day when he had finally conquered Voldemort.

The battlefield was eerily quiet in the aftermath of the battle, and the silence was broken only by the crackle of dying flames and the faint groans of the wounded who had fought either for or against Voldemort. The Dark Lord himself was dead, his body having crumbled into ashes and scattered away, just like his army of Death Eaters.

Despite his triumph over his mortal enemy, Harry stood amidst the wreckage, his wand still clenched tightly in his hand, and he felt no triumph. It was only a hollow, oppressive weight that was pressing on his chest. After all, he might have won, but in the process, he had lost everything that mattered to him.

He stared at the spot where Voldemort had fallen, where the final battle had ended. His own breath sounded harsh in his ears, and the blood pounding through his veins felt like an echo of the curses that had flown through the air only moments ago. It was truly over. He had won. He had killed him. Voldemort. The killer of his parents was dead.

The thought should have brought relief, perhaps even vindication, but it didn't. Instead, it left an emptiness inside him that was almost unbearable.

Wordlessly, he turned around and walked away, his feet taking him through the foliage into the dark embrace of the Forbidden Forest. The brittle leaves crunched under his feet and the air was cold and damp, clinging to his skin.

Through whatever haze had clouded his mind, he heard a faint rustle behind him, followed by a raspy voice.

"Potter..."

The voice was faint, strained, but unmistakable. Harry's body tensed, and he turned sharply, his wand raised. Every muscle in his body was coiled and ready to strike. The figure emerging from the shadows brought a fresh surge of anger crashing through him.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

She stumbled forward, her once-imposing frame reduced to a trembling silhouette in the flickering light of the remaining fires that streamed through the leaves and illuminated the forest. Her robes were tattered and caked with grime; her face, pale and streaked with blood and soot, bore a look of vulnerability that he failed to truly associate with her. Her wild hair hung limp around hollow, haunted eyes. Yet, despite her diminished state, Harry didn't lower his guard.

With a sneer, he walked closer, his wand trained on her and the tip glowing a familiar shade of green.

"I'm surprised you're still here," he remarked coldly. "That you didn't already run like the others. And even more that you dared to come near me like this. Makes me feel you want to be the next one I put down."

Bellatrix flinched, but she didn't look away. Her eyes—once so full of malice and mockery—were wide and raw with desperation.

"I need to—" she began, but he cut her off. "I don't care what you need," he snapped. "You have nothing to say that I want to hear."

Bellatrix took a step forward, her hands trembling as they rose in front of her in a gesture of surrender. "You don't understand. He's gone, Potter. I can feel it—"

"I said stop," Harry barked, his wand trained on her heart. "You think I'm stupid enough to listen to you? After everything you've done? After everyone you've killed?" His voice was like a whip, each word lashing out with barely-contained fury. "I couldn't give a shit about others, but you killed Sirius. That is more than enough in my books. You've made a huge mistake. You should've run off when you had the chance."

Her face twisted with something he couldn't quite name—despair, perhaps, or something close to it. "Because he cursed me!" she shouted, her voice breaking. "Because he made me into this—this monster!" Her chest heaved as she stared at him, her eyes glistening. "You think I wanted to kill for him? To be his slave? He broke me, Potter, just like he broke so many others. And now... now he's gone, and I don't know who I am anymore."

Harry didn't lower his wand. His unforgiving gaze burned into hers. "Do you expect me to believe that?"

"It's the truth," she said, her voice quieter now, tired and trembling. "The curse—it's gone. Him. And whatever he put inside me. It's all gone. The voice, the pull—it's silent now. I felt it break when you... when you destroyed him. For the first time in decades, I can think for myself. But you don't believe me, do you?" She let out a bitter, trembling laugh, her hands falling to her sides. "Of course you don't. Why would you?"

"I don't," Harry said flatly. He stepped closer, his wand still aimed at her chest. "But I can find out."

Bellatrix's brow furrowed. "What are you—?"

Before she could finish, Harry's eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her recoil.

"Legilimens," he hissed.

The spell hit her like a physical blow, and her knees buckled as Harry's mind plunged into hers. He didn't hesitate or give her a chance to resist as he forced himself into her memories.

Images and emotions surged around him, chaotic and raw: a younger Bellatrix laughing with her sisters, her face soft and unscarred; the first time she knelt before Voldemort, her heart pounding with equal parts fear and awe; the curse taking hold, twisting her thoughts, turning her into a creature of hatred and violence. He saw her struggles, her faint attempts to fight back, and the crushing weight of Voldemort's will pressing down on her, snuffing out the last flickers of her autonomy.

He pushed past her vile deeds, and finally, he saw the moment the curse broke. A blinding flash of light enveloped her, and the sense of release was so profound that it nearly knocked him out of her mind. He felt her guilt, her horror at what she had done, and her desperate need for someone—anyone—to stop her from falling back into the darkness.

Harry pulled back abruptly, breaking the connection. Bellatrix collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath, her hands clutching at the roots.

"You weren't lying," Harry said, his voice low and cold. "But that doesn't make you totally innocent."

"I know…" she rasped.

"Congratulations you got free," Harry grunted, eyeing her with emotionless eyes. "Now leave. Leave before I change my mind."

Bellatrix's head snapped up, her desperation flaring. "I can't. Don't you understand? I'm dangerous, Potter. Even without him. I've done things—horrible things. Things I couldn't stop, even when I wanted to." Her hands trembled as she gestured helplessly. "If you send me away, I'll become that again. I'll become something worse."

Harry's jaw tightened. His fingers twitched on his wand. "That's not my problem."

"You think I don't know that?" she spat, a flicker of the old fire returning to her voice. "You think I don't know what I am to you? I'm not asking for forgiveness, Potter. I'm not asking for pity. But you..." She took a shuddering breath. "You're the only one who can keep me in check. You're the only one strong enough. If you send me away, I'll become what he made me all over again." She raised her head to meet his gaze, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I don't want that. Please. Do what you must. But don't let me go."

He stared at her, his expression hard as stone. He didn't trust her. He couldn't. But there was something in her voice—something fractured and desperate—that tugged at him despite himself. He hated it. Hated her. And yet... she wasn't wrong.

"I should kill you," he said, his voice low and deliberate. "You deserve it for everything you've done."

Her laugh was bitter and humorless. "Maybe I do. But you won't. Because you're not like him. And because, deep down, you know I can still be useful to you."

Harry's eyes burned into hers, searching for deceit. All he saw was a hollow, broken woman clinging to the only lifeline she could see.

"You think I'll take you at your word?" he said sharply.

"You don't have to," Bellatrix replied, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You can look for yourself. Again. I won't stop you."

Harry stared at her with pursed lips before he raised his wand once again. "Legilimens," he hissed.

Even though she was consenting this time, the spell struck Bellatrix like a blow, and her knees buckled as Harry's mind plunged into hers. He didn't hold back. He tore through her thoughts and memories, pushing past the layers of defenses that had once been so impenetrable.

Once he pulled back, he stared at her for a long moment, his wand still pointed at her. His thoughts churned. He didn't trust her, but he couldn't ignore the truth he'd seen. Despite everything, the thrill of his discovery was anchoring him to the idea that was slowly taking root inside his mind.

Finally, he lowered his wand. "You're right about one thing. You can't be trusted. But don't think for a second that this makes us allies. You're a tool, Lestrange. Nothing more. You'll follow my orders, every single one, or I'll finish what Voldemort started. Do you understand me?"

Bellatrix bowed her head reverently, her hands trembling in the dirt as she gazed up at him with a smile. "Yes, Master."

A sense of thrill shot up his spine at the word, but he didn't let it show. He turned sharply, his wand still in hand. "Get up," he ordered. "We're leaving."

Bellatrix pushed herself to her feet, unsteady but determined, and followed him into the shadows. Her new life with her new master was awaiting her, and it was going to be drastically different from what she had with Voldemort.

The feeling of her stirring against him brought Harry out of his thoughts and he gazed down at the naked brunette draped over him.

"What are you thinking?" She asked softly, gazing up at him.

Harry stared at her for a long moment, his eyes scanning her face, and with a rueful smile, he shook his head.

"Nothing."

-Break-

"So, what are you going to do first? You going after Mudd?" Bellatrix asked as she meticulously cut the apple into thin slices and pushed the plate in front of him.

"I'm looking for the Greengrass sisters," Harry replied. At her smirk, he chuckled. "Yeah, you got that right."

"You don't even know where they are though," she remarked, leaning back in her chair.

"I've got leads. Pansy said they used to visit the Riveira. I'll start from there."

"The French Riviera is big, Master. And the muggle side even more so."

"And?" Harry asked with an arched eyebrow.

"I think it'd take time."

"You've got a better idea?"

Bellatrix looked thoughtful for a moment. "You said they ran away from Britain after Vinda killed their parents, right? Then it would make sense that they'd be living under a warded property, probably the Fidelius as well, with one of the sisters being the secret keeper."

"I'd guess the younger one—Astoria, I believe her name is," Harry replied. "She's got a condition, and I don't think she'd be able to cast the Fidelius."

Bellatrix nodded. "Vinda has taken the older sister's identity, so if she's not done it already, she must be looking for her to take care of the loose end."

"Does she have a reason to suspect that the sisters are here in France, or where in France they are?"

"I don't think so," Bellatrix replied. "But Vinda is resourceful. She can dig information up very nicely, so it would be better to assume that she does know they're in the country. Hopefully she's not got her hands on them already."

"That would make the trip only half-worthwhile," he muttered, making her chuckle.

"In any case, the muggle side of the Riviera is very big. It'll take hours, maybe days for you to gain any leads."

"I think I can manage just fine," Harry finished eating and pushed the plate away. With a flick of her wand, Bellatrix cleaned and sent it stacked up nicely on the bar counter.

"You should go under your disguise," she urged. "In case there's any heat."

Harry's mind flashed back to when he'd arrived here and how he'd drawn multiple eyes.

"Tell me, Bella," he began. "The shady bloke who was eyeing me last night… you know the one I'm talking about, right? He's still here?"

Bellatrix nodded a bit curiously, wondering where he was going with this.

A feral smirk appeared on Harry's face as he leaned forward, cupping her cheek tenderly, and the woman leaned into his touch.

"Tell me which rooms they're in."

"117," she replied promptly. "But Master—"

"I know, Bella," Harry cut her off. "Safe sanctuary. Nothing can happen in here. Don't worry. I'll take care of it."

-Break-

The room was dimly lit, and the thick smell of alcohol permeated the air as Harry, in his Blackthorn disguise, materialized in the center, his emerald eyes glinting as they swept over his surroundings. A faint shimmer rippled in the air, and Harry recognized the ward triggering in response to his intrusion. However, he was unbothered, a wry smile curling his lips.

"Ah, there it is," he murmured, a faint chuckle escaping his lips. "Right on cue."

The room was as opulent as they came, albeit nothing compared to what he had at his disposal. Harry ignored everything, his eyes immediately falling on the figure clad in thick, layered black robes who darted forward from the shadows, wand trained directly at him.

Before the figure could react, Harry apparated right in front of it and grabbed its hand firmly. He grinned ferally and twisted on the spot, apparating away once again.

They landed in an open field that Harry had used to apparate in the previous evening and the figure fell over in a heap.

Harry jumped back, bouncing on one leg as he grinned mockingly.

"Woo! And here I thought you'd have a bit of a fight after how you looked at me last night," he taunted.

The figure shot to its feet and the first curse sizzled through the air. Harry easily recognized it as a blood-boiling curse and grinning, he swished his wand with a casual flick. The curse rebounded harmlessly against the ground, creating a small crater as it sent dust and debris in the air.

"Really?" Harry drawled, condescension dripping from his voice.

The figure did not respond. It snapped its wand to hurl another silent curse. Harry observed that it was faster and sharper, the trail glowing sickeningly in an ominous shade of purple. He sidestepped it with perfect ease, a smirk spreading across his face.

"You know," he said, swatting another spell aside. "I'm wondering something… it's that… do you sleep in those clothes? Or are you just allergic to fresh air?"

The figure remained silent, advancing toward him as it kept firing curses with a relentless fury. Harry's movements were almost leisurely as he blocked and deflected everything, his emerald eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Not much for conversation, are you?" he taunted. "That's fine. I'll do the talking. You just keep trying."

A particularly vicious cutting curse whistled past his ear as Harry tilted his head at the last possible second, grazing the edge of his shirt. Harry's smirk widened.

"Ooh, close!" he exclaimed. "Almost got me that time. But let me guess, that's about as good as it gets, isn't it?"

The figure hesitated for a split second, clearly realizing this was a battle in vain. None of its spells were finding their target, and the ones that did were easily swatted away like irritating insects.

With a glare, the figure twisted on the spot to disapparate, only for a jolt of magic to snap through the air. It stumbled, visibly shocked.

"Oh, no, no, no," Harry said, tutting softly. "I don't allow for such rude exits. Anti-apparition wards, anti-portkey enchantments… you must know the whole deal already. Did you really take me for an amateur?"

The figure stared at Harry for a long moment before lunging forward with a desperate sweep of the wand. The moment Harry saw the familiar green shade of the killing curse start to form on the tip of his opponent's wand, all traces of humor vanished from his face. His eyes hardened and his wand lashed out before the figure had uttered out the first syllable of the spell.

A crackling, whip-like jet of red lanced out of his wand, severing the wand arm off at the elbow. The figure staggered back and let out a guttural cry that was swallowed by the silencing charm Harry had cast around them, clutching their stump as blood seeped through the thick fabric of their robes.

Harry tutted coldly. "Did you really think I'd let you cast that?"

He began to advance, his wand raised and glowing ominously. The figure tried to crawl away desperately, to no success.

"You really shouldn't have looked at me like that," Harry said menacingly as he reached the figure. With a flick of his wand, he sent a cutting curse that tore the hood apart. Wandlessly, he pushed the hood back and revealed the face of a man, although calling him a man was a stretch.

"How old are you?" Harry asked. "You can't be older than 18. What were you doing in a place like that?"

The man groaned in pain, tears sliding down his face.

"If you won't speak, I'd have to use other methods," Harry muttered. "Trust me, you don't want that."

"Qui êtes-vous?"

"You're not in the position to ask questions," Harry sighed. "Just answer my question and be done with it. And don't act like you don't understand what I'm saying."

The man went silent, glaring at him, and Harry's eyes hardened.

"Still not in the mood to chat, hmm? That's fine. I have other ways of getting what I want."

Harry was relentless, his wand a blur as he cast a series of cutting and bone-breaking curses at precise points, making him repeatedly cry out in pain.

"Talk," Harry growled.

The man kept groaning, his breaths coming out in short gasps.

"You know why I really targeted you?" Harry asked as he leaned closer, his wand pressed against the man's temple. "It's not only because of how you were looking at me last night. Oh no. It's because I sensed it. The smell of murder. You killed someone last night. Believe me, I can smell a killer from a mile away."

The man's eyes widened and before he could brace himself, Harry forced himself into his mind. He thrashed violently, but he and his commendable Occlumency shields were still no match for Harry who plunged into his thoughts, images and memories flashing before his eyes.

It felt as if hours had passed as Harry kept digging deeper, his lips curling into a snarl. Fragments of conversations and clandestine meetings kept getting clearer until finally, Harry pulled out of his mind.

Without preamble, he pointed his wand at the man and cast, "Crucio!"

The man's scream echoed around him as Harry watched dispassionately. He held the curse just long enough to not snap his mind before he let up. The man sagged, trembling and broken.

"Very pretty disguise you've got there," Harry growled, snatching the little pendant off his neck. The man's face transformed from a roughly 18-year-old teenager to a disheveled man who looked to be in his forties. "Preying on young girls and then killing them off? I should've expected someone like you would be working for that bitch."

He pronounced it with another Cruciatus, holding it for a few seconds before relenting. The man wheezed and coughed, his limbs outstretched and his muscles strained.

"That bitch might be working hard to maintain that dead bastard's influence over in Italy, but it won't go on for long," Harry said as he straightened up, eyeing the man with disdain. "Don't worry, I won't kill you. Oh no, you're going to be my messenger."

He knelt beside him, his voice low and venomous. "Tell Adrastia Zabini that I'm coming. Tell her I'm going to tear her little empire apart piece by piece. That she will never see her pathetic son again. This web of connections she's extended across Europe, those pathetic wizards and criminals still clinging on to the hope that their master would return somehow, just as he did last time? It's all fool's endeavor. Go and tell her I'll make her my bitch, and that day will come sooner than she can think."

His piece said, Harry stood up and turned away, leaving the man writhing on the floor. He did not bother to bind or silence him, and as he apparated away, he smirked to himself.

"Well, that was fun."

-Break-

"I bet you didn't think you'd find that after you went after that guy," Bellatrix remarked as she rubbed the warm soapy towel all over his back.

They were in the bathroom of his suite. He was sitting in the ornate bathtub, with her taking her place behind him as she cleaned him up like the obedient servant that she was. She put the cloth to the side and leaned forward, pressing her sizeable tits against his back and rubbing them all over his skin. She grabbed the hand shower and let the warm water drizzle over their skin, washing all the soap away.

Harry leaned back against her comfortably, loving how her tits felt against him. Resting his head on her shoulder, he allowed her to pour the water all over his front.

"Don't miss any spot, Bella."

"Yes, Master," she said obediently, pouring soap on her hands and rubbing it all over his front. She started with his upper chest, rubbing her hands over him in circles as she descended. Her fingers took their time on his chest, brushing his nipples more times than he thought was necessary, but he did not call her out on it. He allowed her to touch him as much as she wanted, and she eagerly took him up on his offer, caressing his abs as she descended, finally reaching his crotch.

"Special attention there," he instructed gruffly, eyeing her wet form that was leaning over him on his left.

"Yes, Master," she repeated.

Harry let out a groan of approval when she began lathering his crotch with the soap, taking care to give special attention as he'd asked her to do. One of her hands wrapped over his balls which she began to fondle in earnest, and with the other, she began to stroke his cock.

"Getting back to what you asked," Harry said, his eyes closed as he breathed in her scent. "I didn't expect that at all. I'd planned to kill him off for the murder, and for being the curious prick that he was being last night. It's a good thing I played around for a bit."

Bellatrix was eagerly stroking him while she played with his balls, and as Harry opened his eyes to look at her, he found an excited grin on her face. Her eyes were fixated on his crotch and he could only chuckle ruefully.

"He should've known not to let his eyes wander in this place," she murmured. "Especially with you. Must've been new to this."

"Just recruited," Harry replied, sighing. "He was barely out of school as well. Tells you how well these lot have indoctrinated the young when they are ready right after they graduate."

"Mm-hmm," Bellatrix hummed, rolling her thumb all over the crown of his cock. Her breathing had escalated and her movements had become even more frantic on his crotch. "What was he doing here, exactly?"

Harry suddenly grabbed her hand, bringing her ministrations to a stop.

"Master?"

"Wash it off," he instructed, gesturing toward his crotch. Bellatrix frowned but obliged, and as she put the hand shower away, she yelped when Harry grabbed her by the waist and pulled her right in front of him.

"Recruitment, mostly," Harry replied, settling her in nicely in front of him. Bellatrix leaned back against his chest, loving how his hard cock felt against her back. She felt his hand on her thighs and instinctively parted her legs wider, giving him more access.

A low moan escaped her lips when he finally touched her womanhood. His fingers brushed her petals, and he ran them along her wet slit. With his other hand that he kept wrapped around her, he held her close, his palm cupping her breast.

"M-Master…" She groaned as he began to fondle her breast, a low hiss escaping her lips when he gently pinched her hard pebble-like nipple.

"He was here to gather more criminals for Zabini," Harry continued, playing with her pussy and tits simultaneously, alternating from one to the other. "There's a whole network out there, like the one you told me about. But Rosier is not working with Zabini, at least this guy didn't know about any collaboration."

"Mmm…" Bellatrix moaned, breathing harshly. "I don't think Zabini would send someone in France if she and Vinda were not working together. Territory dispute and what else…"

"Maybe," Harry replied, nibbling on her earlobe. He parted her lower lips and slowly inserted two of his fingers inside her, and Bellatrix moaned, her pussy swallowing his digits. Harry immediately felt the warmth of her womanhood envelop his fingers and he thrust in further, burying them both deep within her. "Maybe they're working together. But it doesn't matter. The result would be the same."

"A part of me… ah fuck… a part of me wishes you'd just… mmm… that you'd just go after Vinda and get done with her," she rasped, her toes curling under his ministrations. "It's not as if she'd be a challenge to you."

"Zabini won't be a challenge to me either, Bella," Harry replied calmly as he fingered her, preparing her for the main course. "But taking them all down just like that? Now, how's that fun?"

Despite herself, Bellatrix chuckled. She was all too familiar with her Master's proclivities. He liked to play and tease.

"I'm sure you'd have loved if we just got down to it, but doesn't the foreplay make it better?"

"Ah, it sure does," Bellatrix nodded emphatically, tilting her head to the side as he began to trail a hot line of kisses along the side of her neck, starting at her earlobe and slowly descending until he had his lips clamped right above her collarbone. His teeth nibbled on her soft skin, his tongue licking her eagerly as he sucked. His hands, meanwhile, intensified their ministrations, one plunging in and out of her pussy with a rhythmic steadiness while the other played alternately with her tits, fondling and kneading the soft flesh with an occasional pinch or tweak of her hardened nubs.

She somehow managed to reach behind and wrap her hand around his manhood that was still as erect as before, and began to stroke him, preparing him.

"Master…" she groaned. "Please…"

"Please what, my Bella?" Harry asked gruffly as he turned her around so that he could look her in the eyes. Her face was flush with arousal and her eyes were half-lidded in lust.

"Please fuck me," she whispered.

Smirking, Harry lifted her, and Bellatrix acted immediately. Impatient and aroused beyond belief, she aligned him with her pussy and descended, spearing him inside her. She moaned out loud as he stretched her, her inner walls accommodating him as he entered her.

Harry grabbed her waist as he kept her upright on top of him and she descended, her warm pussy fully swallowing his cock. With her back to him, she looked at him over her shoulder and grinned lustfully.

"Fuck me, Master," she said hotly, and that was all the encouragement Harry needed.

His grip tightened on her waist, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he began to move her up and down his length. The water sloshed around them, the sound of their wet bodies slapping against each other filling the room. He kept thrusting up, pushing his cock deep with her before he pulled her up, slamming her back down on his cock.

Bellatrix's moans echoed off the tiles, her head thrown back and her long, wet hair cascading down her back.

Harry's thrusts became more urgent, his hand gripping her more demandingly. He lifted her higher and slammed her down, his hips meeting hers with a force that made her gasp. She could feel every inch of him, filling her completely, and he was touching places inside her that made her see stars.

"Harder, Master," she panted, her nails digging into his thighs for leverage. "Fuck me harder."

Harry growled, and the sound was so primal that it sent shivers down her spine. He lifted her off him and turned her around, pushing her back against the wall of the tub. She braced herself, her hands on his shoulders, as he pounced on her and entered her again from front. Her eyes were wide and full of lust as he slammed inside her, and this time, it was with a force that took her breath away.

He pounded into her, his intense eyes locked with hers as the water splashed around them, their bodies slapping together and their breaths coming out in short, ragged gasps. Bellatrix had already been stimulated to perfection, and she could feel the tension coiling deep within her, her core tightening around him.

"You're gonna cum, Bella?" Harry asked with a grunt, his voice gruff. "You're gonna cum all over my cock?"

Bellatrix could not respond. His words sent her over the edge and she cried out, her body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. Harry grunted as he felt her inner walls squeezing him impossibly tighter but he continued to slam away inside her.

Bellatrix clutched his arms, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist as she moaned and thrashed, her orgasm crashing through her. She shivered under him as she rode out her climax.

Finally, she breathed heavily as she came down from her orgasmic high, and she groaned when he slowly pulled out of her. Her eyes fell on his hard cock and she quickly moved.

She gently pushed him back and leaned over in front of him, gazing up at him with adoring eyes.

"You didn't cum, Master," she whispered with a wicked smile, making him smirk.

"Then why don't do something about it?"

Bellatrix grinned as she lowered her face, and all Harry could do was groan as she wrapped her lips around him. She would indeed be a very bad servant if she didn't make him cum.

TBC.

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Chapter Text

The morning light crept through the heavy curtains, casting a golden glow across the lavish suite. Bellatrix shifted beneath the silk sheets, her dark hair a wild mess against the pillows as she stretched.

A slow, sultry smile spread across her face as she whispered huskily, "Good morning, my Lord."

Harry was already sitting up against the headboard, watching her with amusement in his eyes. His bare torso was illuminated by the sunlight, and Bellatrix's eyes trailed over the sharp lines of his body, a glimmer of mischief flickering within them.

He chuckled, his fingers tracing the curve of her jaw, "Good morning, Bella. You know I've told you, it's just Harry in the mornings."

Bellatrix pouted, her lower lip sticking out in a way that was both playful and enticing. "But I like calling you my Lord or Master. It reminds me of my place... and yours." Her hand snaked out, tracing the muscles of his chest. She brushed her fingertips against his pecs, slowly descending to his abs as her eyes followed suit, caressing and teasing him with light touches.

Harry caught her hand, bringing it to his lips. Bellatrix moaned low when he took her fingers in his mouth and rolled his tongue around the digits, his smoldering eyes trained on her.

"And what place is that, Bella?" He asked huskily as he eyed her.

Bellatrix's response was to slowly slide the covers off her naked body, presenting her sensual self to his appreciative gaze. Her eyes sparkled as she whispered, "Your servant, your lover, your… plaything."

She purred as she pushed herself upright so that she was sitting on her knees that were folded up beneath her, her eyes dark with lust. She leaned in, almost pressing herself up against him, her breath hot in his ear. "I'm whatever you wish, my Lord."

Harry let out a chuckle as he kissed her fingers. "Always so eager to please. You're insatiable, Bella."

He took her other hand that was slowly stroking the muscles on his abdomen, drifting downward with every stroke until it was beneath the sheets. Bellatrix pouted when he stopped her.

"You're leaving again," she said, shifting closer, pressing her warm body firmly against his side. "You always do."

Harry exhaled, tilting his head to glance down at her. "You know I have business in France. More than one, in fact."

Bellatrix huffed, dragging her fingers across his chest in slow, teasing patterns. "Business, business," she muttered, her voice laced with exaggerated frustration. "And what of me? Left alone, bored and restless, waiting for my lord to return."

His lips twitched, and he reached down, trailing his hand along her arm. "You'll survive."

"Will I?" she murmured, pressing herself closer, mashing her sizeable tits against his torso as her lips began grazing the side of his neck. "Perhaps you should stay. I could make it worth your while."

Harry chuckled, watching as she tilted her head, her expression sultry and expectant. "Oh, I don't doubt that," he mused, gripping her chin and forcing her to meet his gaze. "But tempting me won't change my plans."

Bellatrix whined softly, though the delight in her eyes betrayed her. "You're so cruel to me, my lord," she teased, her fingers continuing their lazy exploration of his skin. "You expect me to simply let you go when you've barely satisfied me?"

His laugh was low and indulgent, and it only fueled the heat in her gaze. "You seemed quite satisfied last night."

She smirked. "Last night was then. This is now."

Without waiting for permission, Bellatrix shifted, pushing the covers aside to expose him. Her eyes took in his erection and with a grin, she looked at him. She nipped at his neck, her hands pressing against his shoulders as she moved to straddle him. She leaned in close, her breath hot against his lips. "Let me convince you to stay," she whispered.

Harry merely leaned back against the headboard, watching her with an expression of pure amusement.

His hands automatically came to hold her by the waist as she aligned herself against him and sank down with a breathless gasp. She let out a delighted squeal as she buried his cock deep inside her. Her eyes wild with lust, she leaned forward and mashed their mouths together, her legs coming to wrap around his waist. Harry's hands slid down, and he cupped her firm round rear, sinking his fingers into her pillowy flesh as he mauled her.

Bellatrix moaned in approval, feeling his glistening cock piston into her swollen pussy. She kept moaning into the kiss with each thrust as he devoured her, his tongue exploring every nook and cranny of her mouth.

He slammed home again and again, gripping her ass tightly as he fucked her senselessly. He kept pulling her back onto his massive rod, impaling her over and over again.

Bellatrix pulled away from the kiss to look him lustfully in the eyes when she let out a loud cry. Her eyes widened and a feral grin lit up her face when Harry delivered another resounding slap on her perky rear in time with his thrusts. She moaned when he spanked her once again, knowing that the pale skin of her tight ass must be sporting a bright red mark resembling his hand. The feeling was so intense that it drove her quickly to her climax, shocking her.

Harry kept slamming hard into her, his cock slick with her vaginal fluids as it kept pistoning in and out of her, and Bellatrix kept moaning and crying out loud, clutching onto him desperately. She felt her head begin to spin and her legs go lax around his waist as a pressure began to develop deep within her gut.

"Ohhh Master! Fuck me! Fuck me, my lord!" She cried out, breathing heavily as she clung to him with a death grip.

Harry grunted, leaning back and watching her large tits flopping right in front of his face. He leaned forward, taking her nipple in his mouth and biting down gently, making her cry out in jubilation.

"Oh yesss! Fuck!"

Harry drove into her relentlessly, forcing her closer and closer to her impending climax. He could feel that she was close, her pussy walls were hugging his manhood for all he was worth, and he knew it would be any second now.

He didn't have to wait for long as Bellatrix arched her back in a wide arc, her eyes open wide and her mouth open in a silent moan as she began to buck wildly on top of him, fucking herself against him desperately, humping back in tandem with his thrusts. She had gone wild, her pleasure building to a crescendo until she couldn't take it anymore.

Suddenly, her pussy clenched hard onto his cock and Harry grunted as Bellatrix shook so violently on top of him that he had to grip her ass even more firmly, or else she would've toppled over. Her face was buried in his neck, her arms wrapped around his torso and holding on desperately as her orgasm washed over her, as intense and as raw as it could get.

Harry grunted as he felt the vice grip of her pussy on his rod and he kept fucking her through her orgasm, slamming into her relentlessly with almost blinding speed and power.

Bellatrix came harder and harder, her pussy gushing around his cock. Her nipples, hard and pebbled, pressed hotly against his chest as she clutched onto him, her head now thrown back in a silent scream of pure ecstasy. She kept shaking over and over, her thighs quivering around his waist as she rode out her impressive climax.

Harry chuckled breathlessly as he finally slowed down, allowing her to ride out her climax. He had allowed her to try, allowed her to press her body to his, to draw every reaction she could.

But in the end, he remained unmoved.

A few minutes passed after their intense morning sex and Bellatrix lay breathless beside him, gazing up at the ceiling. Slowly, she turned her head to glare halfheartedly at him. "You're still leaving," she accused.

Harry smirked, brushing his fingers along her jaw before tucking a strand of wild, sweaty hair behind her ear. "Of course. But I said I'll return."

Bellatrix frowned, her fingers curling against his arm. "When?"

"As soon as my business in France is done."

Her expression darkened. She knew he had more than one. "And that will take how long?"

"A few days, perhaps a week," he replied. Smirking and watching her carefully, he added, "But when I return, I'll be taking you with me."

Bellatrix blinked, recalling this declaration, and slowly, a delighted grin spread across her face. "You meant it? Really?"

Harry hummed in affirmation, tracing circles around her nipple, poking and flicking it gently as he leaned over her, his face mere inches from his. "I did. Unless…"

"Yes!"

The excitement in her eyes flared, and she wasted no time in showing just how pleased she was with the promise.

"You didn't climax, Master," she said coyly, getting on all fours and presenting her perky round rear to him. "I'd be such a bad servant if I didn't satisfy you fully."

Smirking, Harry got up and took up his position behind her, and he slowly reached out, pressing on her back until she lay on the bed. He pushed a pillow under her belly to hike her rear up, and Bellatrix looked over at him with a grin.

"Speedbump? No doggy?"

"I'm in the mood for it," Harry smirked, aligning himself up with her wet, red entrance.

By the time they lay tangled together once more, the room was filled with the scent of satisfaction and the quiet sounds of their steady breathing. Bellatrix nestled against Harry's chest, her fingers absentmindedly tracing along his side while his hand roamed lazily over her curves, squeezing and caressing as he lost himself in thought.

After a moment, he broke the silence. "Who will take care of this place once you're in England?"

Bellatrix smirked against his skin. "I've already arranged a few trustworthy caretakers," she murmured. "They're more than capable."

Harry raised a brow. "And if something goes wrong?"

"I can always make the trip over," she said simply. "The place is connected to the International Floo Network. A quick step through the flames, and I'm here."

Harry considered this, his fingers trailing lazily down her spine. "Good," he murmured.

Bellatrix tilted her head up, watching him with open adoration. "You'll see, my lord. Everything will be as it should."

He smirked. "I expect nothing less."

-Break-

The Hall of Magical Concords was a demonstration of French supremacy in every way imaginable, and they had gone all out to send the message that their nation was a mighty one.

Tall marble columns lined the circular room, each etched with the symbols of the nations in the International Confederation of Wizards. Above, a large enchanted dome reflected the ever-changing colors of the sky over Paris, dotted with constellations that glowed faintly with magic. Silver and blue chandeliers floated overhead, casting a soft light that shimmered off the golden banners displaying the world's most powerful magical nations. At the center, a grand banner of France, larger than all the rest, proudly hung, sending a clear message of strength and influence to all who entered.

A hush fell over the room as the grand doors at the far end swung open with grace. The murmurs of quiet conversation ebbed as heads turned, eyes narrowing with interest. Harry Potter, the British representative to the ICW and Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, strode into the hall with an air of quiet authority. Dressed in deep navy robes, trimmed subtly with silver, he carried himself with the confidence of a man accustomed to both respect and scrutiny. His green eyes, sharp and ever watchful, took in the gathered officials as he made his way forward, the slightest inclination of his head acknowledging familiar faces without breaking his stride.

The sheer weight of his presence was tangible. He was not merely a representative of Britain but a living legend in his own right. Many of those seated within the chamber had grown into their roles knowing his name, whether from personal acquaintance, political discourse, or the lingering echoes of his past deeds. Some still saw the Boy Who Lived; others recognized the hardened war veteran who had played a defining role in shaping the modern magical governance of Wizarding Britain. Opinions were divided, as they always were, but none in the room could deny the respect he commanded.

"Director Potter," a voice called as he approached the central dais. A representative from the French delegation, an older wizard with a neatly groomed beard, stepped forward, extending a hand. "It is always a pleasure to see you among us. Britain remains fortunate to have your leadership."

Harry accepted the handshake firmly, gracing the statuesque blonde accompanying the man with a smile. "Monsieur Allard, good to see you again. I trust your Aurors have had success with that smuggling ring in Marseille?"

Allard let out a dry chuckle. "Your insights on their operations and the aid of your auror force were invaluable. Our thanks once again."

Harry nodded, and shortly, they parted ways. Harry made his way over to his seat as more greetings followed. The Indian delegate, an old man with piercing brown eyes and an air of quiet authority about him, nodded in approval as he passed. From across the hall, the Japanese official offered a respectful bow. A murmured conversation between two South American envoys ceased as Harry walked by, their eyes tracking his movement with measured interest. Everyone knew he was not simply a fellow representative—he was a force to be reckoned with, one whose words carried weight far beyond the borders of Britain, much like the former Chief Warlock.

As he moved toward his seat near the front, his gaze swept the hall. Each delegation was arranged in a semicircle, their respective banners hovering beside their seating areas. The French Ministry, as hosts, had positioned themselves prominently, their scarlet and gold crest displayed proudly behind the Chief Warlock's elevated chair. The Hall itself seemed alive with magic, wards woven into its very foundation to ensure security and civility. No one could duel within these walls; no charm of deception could take hold. Here, the truth was expected to stand plain and simple.

Taking his seat, Harry let his fingers brush the smooth mahogany of the desk before him, the sigil of the British Ministry embossed into the polished surface. He sat calmly, although keeping his attention firmly on a certain individual.

Across the chamber, a man sat in quiet observation—one of the Spanish representatives, a tall, lean wizard with neatly combed black hair and a sharply tailored robe. He had been glancing toward Harry since his arrival, though he had yet to make any formal approach. Harry made note of it but did not let his curiosity show.

The air grew still as the Chief Warlock, a wizened wizard of great stature and dignity, stepped forward. His emerald-green robes, threaded with gold, shimmered as he raised a hand to call for order. The murmurs ceased.

"Esteemed representatives," the Chief Warlock's voice echoed through the chamber, imbued with an enchantment that carried it evenly across the vast space. "We gather once more to discuss the affairs of our world, to shape the course of our shared future. Let us begin."

The initial discussions proceeded with the expected formalities. There were the usual reports on international magical cooperation, treaties regarding potion trade regulations, and the ever-present concern of maintaining secrecy in an age of increasing Muggle surveillance. Harry listened attentively, contributing where necessary, though much of it was procedural groundwork—important, but not requiring his immediate focus.

Yet, throughout these exchanges, he remained aware of Mateo Calderón, the Spanish representative's occasional glances. The man's expression was unreadable, his posture composed, but there was a peculiarity to his observation that piqued Harry's interest.

He waited as the proceedings went on as usual, witches and wizards from across the world putting forward their grievances that affected either their respective regions or the world at large. Hours passed with discussions going on as usual until finally, the Spanish representative rose to his feet.

"If I may be heard," he said, his voice smooth and measured. He cast a brief glance around the hall before his dark eyes settled once again on Harry.

Harry leaned slightly forward, his expression impassive, but his mind already sharpening with anticipation. He was curious as to what the wizard had to say, and he didn't know why, but he had a feeling that he wouldn't like it much.

The Spanish representative cleared his throat. "We must address the growing crisis that affects not only our own borders but the entire magical world. The influx of magical refugees—many from Eastern Europe, many fleeing the remnants of the Dark Lord's ideology—has placed an unprecedented strain on our communities."

A murmur of agreement spread across the chamber. Representatives from Portugal and Spain exchanged brief glances before they nodded.

"While we recognize the need for compassion," the Spanish representative continued, "we cannot ignore the rising tensions among our own citizens. There have been reports—confirmed reports—of sympathizers of Voldemort's ideology inciting unrest within our borders. Some of these individuals fled Britain, others from Durmstrang-influenced nations, and their presence cannot be overlooked."

Several eyes turned to him and Harry took this moment to interject. "Closing borders entirely is not a solution. Many of these people are victims, not perpetrators. Britain has taken in a considerable number of these displaced individuals, and while concerns about Dark sympathizers are valid, we must tread carefully. Condemning an entire group based on fear will only create more enemies."

The delegate from Hungary scoffed. "Easy for Britain to say, when your Aurors are not the ones dealing with a rise in magical crime in our streets. If you are so confident, Director Potter, will Britain open its doors wider?"

Harry met his gaze steadily. "We are already investigating ways to improve vetting processes while upholding our humanitarian responsibilities. Security and compassion are not mutually exclusive."

Turning back to address the entire hall, Harry began, his voice steady but firm, "We need to acknowledge that these refugees are not just fleeing war. They're fleeing persecution, violence, and in many cases, the remnants of Voldemort's ideology that still hold power in their home nations. Closing our doors entirely would be both cruel and irresponsible."

"And yet, Mr. Potter, the problem is not so simple," Calderón said calmly. "Our magical communities in Spain and Portugal are overwhelmed. We have taken in thousands, but local wizards fear for their safety. Just last week, an underground group of Voldemort loyalists was uncovered operating in Valencia. They were attempting to recruit disillusioned refugees to their cause. How do you propose we deal with that?"

Across the table, the American representative, Eleanor Beckett, adjusted her glasses and crossed her arms. "The United States has already taken steps to limit migration into our territories. We cannot afford another Grindelwald-like insurgency. Some of these refugees may be innocent, but others? They bring old wounds back to life. We won't allow our magical society to be destabilized. We sympathize with your plight, but our priority remains internal security."

"And yet," Harry interjected, his green eyes sharp, "you're willing to sit back while innocent witches and wizards suffer? I understand the risks, but there are better ways to handle them than shutting our borders entirely."

Calderón sighed. "Idealism is one thing, Director Potter. Practicality is another. Spain and Portugal cannot handle more arrivals. If the rest of Europe doesn't share the burden, we will be forced to implement stricter policies."

At the far end of the table, the Russian delegate, Viktor Mikhailov, chuckled darkly. "Burden? Britain speaks of responsibility while sitting comfortably behind its own wards. Do not pretend your nation has been a sanctuary, Potter. Britain has its own problems with these refugees, does it not? I hear even your Aurors are stretched thin dealing with sympathizers."

Harry kept his expression neutral, though Mikhailov's words weren't far from the truth. "We have our challenges, yes, but that's all the more reason to work together. The problem isn't the refugees—it's the radicalization of those who feel abandoned. If we invest in integration, if we give them a place in society, we take away the power of the extremists trying to recruit them."

A murmur spread through the room. Some representatives nodded in agreement; others remained skeptical. The Portuguese delegate, Isabela Ferreira, tapped her fingers on the table. "You propose integration, Director Potter, but how? The Muggle world has its refugee programs, and even they struggle. How do you suggest we handle this in the magical world?"

"We start by creating an international framework," Harry said. "A structured process that allows refugees to be vetted, resettled, and integrated into magical societies rather than being left to fend for themselves. We can work with magical institutions to provide them education, employment, and housing. Right now, they feel like they have no options, and that's why they turn to extremist ideologies."

Mikhailov scoffed. "And who pays for this? Who ensures security? You think Durmstrang students will sit quietly while their schools are filled with those who fled? You think we can monitor every single wizard with past connections to the Dark Lord?"

"We can certainly try," Harry countered. "What's the alternative? Pushing them back into countries where they'll either be killed or forced into crime? Because that's what's happening now. We all know it."

A heavy silence followed. Calderón exchanged a glance with Ferreira, while Beckett exhaled sharply, rubbing her temple.

"We need a compromise," Beckett finally said. "Perhaps an international effort, but with stricter oversight. Magical law enforcement from multiple countries working together to monitor refugee movements and ensure they aren't engaging in illegal activities."

Ferreira nodded. "And quotas. We must set limits on how many each nation takes. It cannot fall on just a few."

Mikhailov sneered. "And when one of these refugees commits a crime? When a former Death Eater's child turns on their new home? Who is responsible then?"

Harry leaned forward. "If we treat them like criminals before they've done anything wrong, they'll become exactly what you fear. If we give them a chance, we can prevent that. Isn't that what the magical world should stand for?"

Murmurs erupted across the hall as representatives began to debate. Meanwhile, Harry leaned back in his seat with his fingers steepled in front of him as he eyed them.

The ensuing crisis that had erupted during and after the Second Wizarding War as it was known in Britain had indeed worsened. It had fed into the notions already prevailing in the society, and like Britain, almost every European nation was reeling with violence and division. The refugee crisis was a consequence of those events, and Harry knew that no matter how much they debated, there were two main points: No country would compromise its sovereignty and national security to cater to foreigners, and the issue wouldn't be resolved until the root cause was taken care of, and that was an impossible task.

Evil cannot be eradicated. That was the truth.

As he sighed, his eyes met Gabrielle who was sitting in the gallery. She gave him a tight, supportive smile. Harry released a soft sigh and gave her a small nod, turning back to the representatives as the debates continued.

-Break-

The tea had long gone cold in his hands.

Harry sat by the window, his elbow propped against the armrest, and his fingers curled loosely around the porcelain cup. Beyond the glass, the Eiffel Tower stood tall, illuminated against the night sky. He watched the golden lights shimmer, but his mind was still in that conference hall, replaying every argument and every sharp word exchanged.

A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. He didn't turn. With a small wave of his hand, the door creaked open. He heard it click shut again, and the soft sound of footsteps approaching. The presence beside him was familiar even before she spoke.

"How are you doing?" Gabrielle's voice was gentle, filled with concern.

Harry let out a quiet chuckle. "How do you think I'm doing?"

She didn't answer right away. He could feel her gaze on him, studying him, but he kept his eyes on the city. After a moment, she sighed and moved closer, close enough that he could catch the faintest trace of her perfume. Vanilla, almond, and jasmine. She had not worn it when they'd met before, and he had a feeling about what was coming.

"It was a difficult discussion," she murmured. "But necessary."

Harry chuckled mirthlessly. "Necessary? Maybe. But did we actually accomplish anything?" He shook his head. "Everyone's too busy trying to protect their own interests to see the bigger picture. We're supposed to prevent another war, not create a reason for one."

Gabrielle crossed her arms, her expression unreadable. "There is no easy solution, Harry. You must know that by now."

He dragged a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I know. But knowing doesn't make it any less frustrating."

Gabrielle leaned against the arm of his chair beside him. "Spain and Portugal are right to be worried. They are the ones housing the most refugees, and they are the ones facing the consequences when tensions rise."

Harry exhaled sharply. "That doesn't mean pushing people away is the answer. Half of them didn't even ask to be caught up in this. They were just trying to survive."

"And yet, the United States has a point too," she countered. "Radicals exist within these groups, Harry. You've seen it firsthand. The danger isn't imagined."

He clenched his jaw. "So what, then? Do we turn them all into suspects? Let fear decide who deserves safety?"

She tilted her head. "You ask the right questions, but no one has the right answers. Not yet."

Silence settled between them. The city outside carried on, untouched by the depth of their conversation.

Gabrielle's eyes drifted over his face, taking in the lines of exhaustion that hadn't truly faded since the war, no matter what. She reached out, her fingers brushing lightly over his forearm.

"You're tense." Her voice dropped slightly, softer now.

Harry blinked and glanced down at where her hand rested against his skin. He hadn't even noticed how tight his muscles had been until her touch made him aware of it.

"Yeah, well, debating the fate of the wizarding world will do that to you," he muttered dryly.

She smiled, a slow curve of her lips. "Would you like some help?"

He didn't answer. He didn't pull away. He just tilted his head slightly to the side, giving her the smallest indication of permission.

Gabrielle took it with a smile, stepping right behind him.

Her hands moved to his shoulders, pressing in with slow ease. She kneaded carefully at first, testing, and then with more pressure as she worked through the tension knotted in his muscles. Her touch was warm and soothing—but there was something else beneath it. A hum in the air, a whisper of magic that curled through him like a slow-burning ember. Harry easily recognized it as her allure.

He let his eyes drift shut as she worked, his body instinctively leaning into her touch. He felt her shift behind him, leaning forward, her fingers gliding over his upper arms, pressing firmly down his biceps, and then back up again in slow, steady strokes.

"You carry too much weight," she murmured, her breath warm against his ear.

He exhaled deeply. "Someone has to."

Her hands slid lower, over his forearms, and then back up, tracing the tension in his shoulders again. Her magic pulsed beneath her fingertips, sending a slow, curling heat through his skin. He could feel himself relaxing, the rigid set of his muscles unraveling under her touch.

And then, without hesitation, she reached for the top button of his shirt.

His eyes opened just slightly, but he didn't stop her.

One button was followed by two more. The fabric of his shirt parted under her hands, exposing the lines of his collarbone and the faint scars that crossed his upper chest. Her fingertips brushed over them, her touch featherlight as she spread the shirt open further.

Harry breathed, his pulse ticking up under her sensual touch, her veela magic working wonders to take care of his tense muscles and knots.

Smiling to herself, Gabrielle leaned in, her lips grazing the shell of his ear as she whispered, "You should not worry so much. You have done your part. You have suffered enough. It is no longer your responsibility."

Her voice was like velvet, sinking into his skin as her hands moved over his bare chest, pressing, soothing, and calming him. She took her time teasing his nipples, never quite touching them fully but brushing them softly enough to keep him wanting. This woman knew how to do it, alright.

His eyes closed, Harry let his head fall back slightly, resting against her lower belly as she stood behind him. His breath was slower now, his body pliant under her hands.

Then, her lips found his earlobe. It was a slow kiss that was over before it began. It was followed by a flick of her tongue.

His fingers curled against the armrest.

"Gabrielle…" he said, his voice low and rough. "What do you think you're doing?"

Gabrielle didn't answer right away. Instead, she smirked against his skin, her breath hot on his neck as she murmured, "Do you really not know?"

Her lips moved lower, brushing along the side of his neck. She took her time, totally unhurried as she kissed his skin softly. Her hands never stopped moving, exploring every inch of his torso with slow, measured intent.

Her fingers worked the buttons of his shirt with practiced ease until the last button slipped undone.

She gently pushed the fabric off his shoulders, letting it slide down his arms until it pooled at his elbows, leaving his upper body bare.

Her hands roamed freely over his torso, her touch both firm and featherlight. She traced the lines of his ribs, massaged the muscles of his stomach, and then returned to his chest, her fingers toying with the small tufts of hair there. Her lips continued their slow, sensual exploration of his neck and shoulders, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. All the while, she was working with her veela magic to calm him.

Harry's breath hitched as her mouth found the curve where his neck met his shoulder, her lips pressing and teasing him. Harry felt himself sinking into the sensation, surrendering to the pleasure. He tilted his head back further, giving her more access to his neck. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to be completely enveloped by her touch.

Finally, her hands slid off his body and he turned his head slightly, just enough for their eyes to meet.

Gabrielle's face was mere inches away from his. Her gaze was dark, hooded, and filled with an emotion so raw that he didn't need words to understand.

Their eyes flickered down at the same time—to each other's lips.

Neither moved at first. And then, as if pulled by the same force, they crashed together.

The kiss was searing, all heat and hunger and something unspoken beneath it. Harry's hands found her cheek as he kissed her, and Gabrielle easily stepped by the chair, guided by his hand on her waist. Harry helped her, pulling her closer, and Gabrielle pressed herself against him, her body molding to his as she climbed on his lap, straddling him. Her fingers tangled into his hair as they kissed heatedly, their lips moving frantically against each other. It felt almost as if they couldn't get enough of each other.

The world outside faded into oblivion—the city lights, the politics, and the weight of everything that had been said in that conference hall.

None of it seemed to matter. What truly mattered now was what lay ahead.

TBC.

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Chapter Text

A/N: All characters involved in this work of fiction are consenting legal adults well into their twenties.

Harry's hands clamped tighter around Gabrielle's waist as their kiss turned wild, raw and needy in a way that neither of them could—or even wanted to—rein in. Her lips were plump, pressing hard against his, and parting with an intensity that hit him like a freight train.

She tasted like the wine they'd had earlier—sweet, sharp, and dizzying—and it mingled with that vanilla-jasmine perfume of hers, dragging him deeper into the haze. Her fingers twisted in his hair, yanking just enough to rip a low, gritty groan from his throat, the sound swallowed immediately by her wanton mouth.

Gabrielle squirmed in his lap, her thighs squeezing his hips as she sank down fully against him. The chair groaned under them, but they couldn't care less. Her body was all heat and soft curves, pressing so close the flimsy dress she had on barely hid how she melted into him.

Harry's hands roamed up from her waist, sliding along the curve of her spine through the thin fabric, feeling her muscles twitch as she arched into him like she couldn't get enough. She broke the kiss for a second, gasping for air, her lips hovering over his—swollen, wet, and begging to be claimed again.

"You're not stopping me," she purred, her voice a sultry taunt, that French accent slipping out and kicking his pulse into overdrive.

"Didn't even cross my mind," he fired back, his voice rough and jagged, like he'd been shouting all night. His hands moved fast—one shot up to grip the back of her neck, dragging her back down to him. Their mouths slammed together again, fiercer now, all messy tongues and nipping teeth, nothing but pure desperation fueling it. She bit his bottom lip, a sharp and playful glint in her eyes, and he fired back by sucking hers into his mouth, pulling a soft, needy whimper from her.

Her hands weren't messing around either. They slid from his hair, trailing over his neck, then raking across his bare shoulders, her nails scraping just enough to sting. His shirt still hung half-off, stuck around his elbows from earlier, and she took it as a dare.

With a quick yank, she tore it free, letting it crumple to the floor in a heap. Her fingers splayed wide over his chest, digging into the hard ridges of his muscles, tracing the faded scars she'd mapped out before. But this time, there was no holding back.

She dragged her nails down his torso, a slow and wicked smirk playing on her lips, leaving hot, red streaks behind. Harry sucked in a sharp breath, his abs flexing under her touch.

"Merlin's bloody beard, Gabrielle," he muttered against her lips, half-laughing, half-growling. She smirked into the kiss, clearly loving how she had him unraveling, and rocked her hips in his lap—just enough to make damn sure he realized how much he wanted her.

The friction was torture, sweet and unbearable, and his hands flew to her thighs, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh through her dress, gripping like he'd lose his mind if he let go.

She pulled back again, just enough to lock eyes with him. Her gaze was dark, her pupils blown out with lust, and her cheeks flushed a soft, filthy pink that made her look like trouble wrapped in a promise.

"You're so into this, huh?" she teased, her voice dripping with heat, playful but thick with want. Before he could toss a comeback, she leaned in again—not for his mouth this time, but to kiss the edge of his jaw, then that spot under his ear where his pulse hammered. Her lips were hot and slick, every brush of them making his breath hitch like he'd been sucker-punched.

Harry tilted his head back, giving her all the room she wanted, his hands slipping higher up her thighs, shoving the hem of her dress up as he went. The fabric bunched under his palms, peeling back to show off smooth, pale skin that practically shimmered in the low light. She was radiating heat, and it was frying his brain.

"You're gonna be the death of me," he rasped, his voice low and wrecked, as her teeth grazed his neck, sending a shiver racing through him.

"Not yet, I won't," she whispered against his skin, her breath hot and ticklish.

Her hands slid lower, skimming over his stomach, her fingers dipping just under the waistband of his trousers before sliding back up. It was a tease, plain and simple, and she knew she had him hooked. He let out a frustrated growl, snatching her wrists and pinning them to his chest for a second, feeling her pulse thrum under his grip as she gazed deep into his emerald orbs.

"Two can play dirty," he said, flashing a smirk up at her. He let her wrists go and slid his hands fully under her dress, pushing it up past her hips. Underneath? Barely anything—just a wisp of lace that didn't even deserve to be called panties. The sight hit him like a freight train, his throat going dry as he stared. He hooked his fingers into the waistband, but instead of yanking them down, he let his thumbs glide over her skin, slow and teasing, watching her squirm under the lightest touch.

Her breath hitched, a little gasp slipping out as she shifted against him, her hips rocking like she couldn't help it. That dress was a goner now, bunched up around her waist, leaving her thighs bare and trembling under his hands. He could feel the heat pouring off her wanton pussy, he could smell that vanilla-jasmine mix clinging to her skin, and it was messing with his head in the best way.

She leaned in close again, her lips brushing his ear this time, her voice a low, husky whisper. "You're too good at this," she said, nipping his earlobe just hard enough to make him twitch.

"Good?" he shot back, his voice rough and raspy. "I'm just getting started."

His hands tightened on her hips, pulling her down harder against him. He ground her pussy against his cock, letting her feel every inch of what she was doing to him. She moaned softly, the sound vibrating through him, and it took everything he had not to flip her over right there on the creaky chair. Instead, he slid one hand up her back again, his fingers tangling in her hair, tugging her head back just enough to expose her throat. He kissed her there, open-mouthed and sloppy, tasting the salt of her skin as she shivered against him.

Gabrielle's hands were back at it, clawing at his shoulders, then sliding down to grip his biceps like she needed something to hold onto. Her nails dug in, sharp little pricks that only stoked the fire in his gut. She rocked her hips again, rolling her pussy over his cock slower this time, dragging it out, and he swore under his breath, the pressure building to a point he could barely stand.

His hands dropped back to her thighs, squeezing hard, then slid inward, brushing against that lace again. He didn't pull it off—not yet—just let his fingers linger, teasing her right back, feeling her tense and melt all at once.

She was panting now, her chest rising and falling fast, and when she looked at him again, her eyes were pure heat, daring him to push it further.

"You're a bastard," she breathed, half-laughing, but the way her voice cracked gave her away. She wanted more, and he was damn well going to give it to her—just not too fast. He grinned, wicked and unapologetic, and let his thumbs skim over her skin again, brushing closer to her wetness, watching her unravel bit by bit.

Gabrielle's breath caught in her throat, her thighs quivering against him like she was already on the edge of losing it.

"Harry…" she whispered, his name slipping out like a needy little whimper, the first sign her cool, cocky vibe was cracking. He loved that—loved knowing he could strip her down to raw want, just like she was doing to him. He leaned in close, his lips brushing her collarbone, then dipping lower, kissing along the top of her dress.

Her dress was this tight, sleeveless number that hugged her curves, but right now, it was just pissing him off, blocking what he wanted. He yanked at the side zipper, and she threw her arms up, letting him rip it off her in one quick move.

The dress hit the floor with a soft thump, and there she was—clad in nothing but skimpy lace panties and a bra so sheer it was basically a tease.

"You planned this from the start, didn't you?" He asked, his voice gruff with want.

Gabrielle merely grinned unabashedly.

Harry's hands were on her in a heartbeat, sliding up her sides, feeling her ribs shift with every fast, shaky breath. She was fucking stunning—long, lean lines mixed with soft, plush spots that begged to be touched, her skin hot under his greedy palms. He dragged her closer, his mouth finding the swell of her tits just above the bra, and she arched into him, her fingers diving back into his hair, pulling hard enough to sting in the best way.

"Get these off," she growled, her voice all husky and demanding, yanking at his trousers. He wasn't about to argue. Shifting under her, he popped the button and zipper with one hand while she shoved the fabric down his hips, all eager and messy. They got stuck around his knees, and he kicked them off in a rush, leaving him in just his boxers. The hard-on tenting the fabric was obvious as hell, and Gabrielle's eyes dropped to it, a dirty little grin spreading across her face.

"Well, damn," she purred, her hand sliding down his chest, over the tight muscles of his stomach, and stopping right above the waistband. Her fingers teased there, light and maddening, and Harry's hips jolted up without his say-so. "Someone's ready to play."

"Keep teasing, and you'll find out how ready," he fired back, but his voice was rough, cracking under the heat she was stoking. She laughed, this low, sexy sound that hit him like a shot of lust straight to the veins. Then she stopped messing around. Her hand slipped lower, cupping his manhood through the boxers, and he groaned, loud and raw, the pressure so good it made his head spin—firm, but nowhere near enough to satisfy. She watched him, soaking up every twitch, every noise he couldn't hold back, loving the power she had over him.

"Gabrielle," he rasped, half a warning, half him begging her to keep going, and she took the hint—or maybe she just wanted to crank it up a notch. She hooked her fingers into his boxers and tugged them down, letting his cock spring free. The air was cool for a split second before her hand wrapped around him, warm and confident, and he cursed under his breath, his head dropping back against the chair as heat roared through him.

She started slow, her grip tight and her strokes lazy, like she was savoring every inch of him. Her thumb swiped over the tip, spreading the slickness there, and Harry's hands clamped onto her plump rear, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise.

"Fuck," he grunted, and she let out this smug little hum, leaning in to kiss his neck again as her hand picked up the pace, stroking him furiously and driving him wild.

"You're still so wound up," she murmured against his skin, her voice thick with fake worry that only made him hotter. "Let me take care of that."

Before he could even catch his breath, she slid off his lap and dropped to her knees between his legs. Harry's eyes flew open, locking onto hers, and holy shit—the sight of her down there, hair all tousled, lips wet and parted, staring up at him with those dark, starving eyes—nearly made him lose it right then and there.

She didn't look away as she leaned in, her breath scorching against him before her lips wrapped around the head of his cock. Harry's head slammed back, a deep, filthy groan tearing out of him as she took him deeper with an instinctual expertise that only a veela could boast of, her tongue flicking and swirling in ways that turned his brain to mush. Her hand stayed busy at the base, pumping him with a steady grip, while her mouth set a rhythm—slow at first, then faster, wet and sloppy and so damn good he couldn't think straight. He couldn't keep quiet—grunts, swears, her name all mashed together in a desperate mess—and his hand found her hair, his fingers tangling in the soft strands, not forcing her, just hanging on for dear life.

"Gabrielle—fuck, you're—" He couldn't string the words together, too lost in the slick heat of her mouth and the way she moaned around him like she was getting off on it too. Her free hand slid up his thigh, her nails biting into his skin, and the mix of it all—pain, pleasure, her—had him racing toward the edge way too fast.

"I'm gonna—" he choked out, his voice a total wreck, but she didn't pull off. She just sucked him deeper, her eyes flicking up to pin him with that wicked stare, and that was game over.

Harry came hard, his hips jerking as a guttural groan ripped out of him, and she stayed right there, gulping down every bit of his release as she kept working him through every pulse until he was a panting, boneless mess.

She eased back slowly, licking her lips clean with that cocky little smirk of hers as she rocked back on her heels.

"Feeling better?" she teased, her voice all rough and playful, and Harry let out a shaky laugh, still reeling.

"You're a fucking menace," he said, reaching for her. He hauled her back into his lap, crashing his mouth against hers, tasting himself on her tongue and loving how filthy it felt. His hands roamed her again, sliding over her back, popping her bra clasp with a quick twist of his fingers. It fell away, and he pulled back to drink her in—those perfect, soft tits, large enough to fit snugly in his palms, with pebbled, puffy nipples that were already peaked and begging for his mouth.

"My turn," he growled, his voice low and full of promise.

He flipped their positions, lifting her like she weighed nothing and plopping her on the edge of the chair where he'd just been. She let out this surprised giggle that melted into a gasp as he dropped to his knees between her legs, mirroring her move from before.

"Ready?" He smirked, and didn't bother to wait for a response.

His hands ran up her thighs, spreading them wide, and he tugged at the lace still clinging to her hips. It came off in one smooth yank, leaving her bare, and he just stared for a second—her pussy all flushed and glowing, dripping wet with her arousal, and every inch of her screaming for him to dive in. Her breaths were coming hard and fast as he gazed at her pulsing womanhood, her supple tits rising and falling hotly as she stared at his face.

Harry leaned in, pressing his lips to the inside of her thigh, taking his sweet time, letting his stubble drag rough and slow against her soft skin. She shivered hard, one hand clamping onto the armrest like it was her lifeline, the other diving back into his messy hair, tugging with a needy pull.

"Harry…" she breathed, his name spilling out all shaky and raw, and he grinned against her, loving how she was already unraveling for him. He kissed higher, inching closer, until his mouth grazed her core, and she jolted like she'd been shocked, a little moan slipping free that echoed hotly in the suite.

He didn't mess around too long—not after the way she'd just blown his mind. His tongue flicked out, tasting her, and fuck, she was sweet and hot, so slick it made his head spin with want. He licked her slow at first, teasing her open, figuring out what made her gasp and what had her hips bucking up off the chair, chasing his mouth. Her fingers tightened in his hair, pulling with a sharp sting that only fired him up more, and he dove in deeper, sucking her clit just hard enough to make her squirm.

"Oh—Harry, fuck, yes," she whimpered, her voice cracking like she was losing it, and he went all in, one hand gripping her hip to keep her pinned as she started wriggling under him. His other hand got in on the action, his fingers teasing her entrance, circling there for a hot second before sliding inside, curling up to hit that spot that made her cry out—loud, wild, and totally unfiltered. The sound shot straight through him, stoking the heat still simmering in his veins from her earlier work.

He worked her like he was on a mission, his mouth and fingers moving together, relentless, chasing every filthy moan and tremble she gave up. Her thighs shook hard around his head, her breaths coming in short, messy bursts, and he could feel her tightening up, her whole body winding tight under his touch.

"Don't you dare stop," she begged, her voice high and dripping with desperation, and no way in hell was he stopping—not when she was falling apart like this, all hot and needy just for him.

When she came, it hit her like a damn freight train, a sharp, sexy cry tearing out as her hips jerked against his face. He didn't back off, letting her ride the whole thing out, his tongue still working her until she was a trembling, boneless heap slumped back in the chair, her tits heaving. He kissed his way up her stomach, over the soft swell of her tits, until he hit her mouth again, and she dragged him into a wet, breathless kiss, tasting herself on his lips just as he had earlier and moaning into it like she couldn't get enough.

They stayed tangled up like that for a bit, panting hard, their naked bodies pressed flush, and the air thick with sweat and that faint, buzzing hum of her veela magic still hanging around, making his skin tingle.

"You're… fucking insane," she finally said, a soft laugh bubbling out, and he grinned, brushing a sweaty strand of hair off her flushed face.

"Worth every second," he shot back as he leaned forward again, and they both knew this was just the warm-up.

Gabrielle's lips met his eagerly, her taste still mixing with his as they kissed, slow and sloppy, their breaths syncing up in the hazy afterglow. She was still perched on the chair, her thighs spread wide around his hips, and her large, bare tits mashed against his, all warm and slick with sweat. The heat between them wasn't dying down—if anything, it was cranking up again, a slow burn turning into a full-on blaze. Her hands roamed his shoulders, nails digging in with a teasing scrape, and when she pulled back, her eyes were dark and wild, like she was ready to eat him alive.

"Harry," she purred, her voice low and thick. She rocked her hips against his, just a little grind that brushed her gushing pussy right up against his throbbing manhood, and he groaned deep in his throat, already getting hard again despite how she'd wrecked him not ten minutes ago. "I've been dying for this—for you—for fucking ages."

He stared up at her, thrown for a loop by how real she sounded, all raw and stripped bare. He'd picked up on her crush a long time ago, knowing she wanted him even now, despite the years that had passed—those little looks, touches that lasted too long had made it quite evident—but he'd always figured it was mostly her veela allure messing with him after he'd saved her. But now, with her naked and panting against him, it slammed into him hard.

His hands clamped down on her waist, his fingers sinking into her soft, warm skin. "Yeah?" he rasped, voice rough as gravel. "How long we talking?"

She smirked, a mix of shy and downright filthy, leaning in to drag her lips along his jaw, her breath hot and teasing. "Truly speaking? Since I was sixteen," she confessed, all husky and shameless, her teeth nipping at his earlobe until he shuddered, his cock jumping against her thigh. "Long after watching you at the Triwizard, all badass and reckless. I was basically a kid back then. But as the war went on, and whatever little I'd hear back then—I'd lie awake dreaming about you, about getting you like this."

She licked the shell of his ear, slow and wet, and he groaned, his hips twitching up without him meaning to. "Now I've got you, and I'm not letting this end quick."

Harry's laugh came out rough, a little unsteady. "You're making it damn near impossible to turn you down."

"Damn right," she fired back, crashing her mouth against his—hard, hungry, all teeth and tongue like she was marking him as hers. Her hands slid down his chest, her nails raking over his nipples, sending a jolt through him that had him moaning into her mouth, his hips bucking up on instinct. She broke the kiss, sliding off the chair and onto her feet, grabbing his hand with a wicked glint in her eye. "Come on. Bed. I want you properly. None of this chair business."

He wasn't about to say no to that. She yanked him up, and he stumbled after her across the room, shedding the last of his clothes—his shirt still dangling off his arms—until he was buck naked. The bed was neatly made up, but they all knew it'd be a mess soon, sheets all twisted from what they were about to do.

Gabrielle didn't waste a second. She spun around, her hands flat on his chest, and shoved him down onto the mattress. He hit it with a soft grunt, propping up on his elbows as she climbed over him, her bare, flushed body glowing in the low light, every curve screaming for his hands.

She swung a leg over his thighs, straddling him like she owned him, her hands roaming his chest, and her fingers tracing over his old scars and the light fuzz of hair.

"Goddamn, you're hot," she whispered, almost like she didn't mean to say it out loud, and leaned down, kissing him slow and dirty, her tongue sliding against his. Her hair spilled around them, brushing his skin like a tease, and he reached up, twisting his fingers in it, kissing her back with just as much heat. His other hand slid to her hip, steadying her.

Gabrielle sat back, her eyes glued to his as she wrapped her hand around his cock, stroking him slow and tight. He was rock-hard now, throbbing under her touch, and she smirked, loving how his hips jerked up into her grip like he couldn't help himself.

"Ready for me, huh?" she teased, her voice all low and husky.

"Been ready since you started this," he growled, lunging up to kiss her again, his hands grabbing her ass, squeezing hard enough to make her moan into his mouth. She ground down against him, and fuck, she was still dripping wet, slick and scorching against his thigh. "Get over here."

She didn't waste a second. Lifting up, she lined him up with her entrance and sank down slow, taking him in bit by bit. Harry groaned loud, his head dropping back as her tight, wet heat swallowed him whole—fucking perfect. Gabrielle gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as she took him all the way, her hips slamming flush against his. They froze for a hot second, just breathing, soaking in how insanely good it felt to finally be locked together like this.

"Shit, you feel amazing," he rasped, his hands clamping onto her hips, nudging her to move. She grinned down at him, a little winded, and started rocking—slow at first, finding her groove. Her walls gripped him tight, and he cursed again, the sensation frying his brain. She leaned forward, her hands braced on his chest, and kicked it up a notch, her hips rolling in this filthy rhythm that had his eyes crossing.

"Like that?" she purred, her voice cracking on a moan as she rode him harder, her tits bouncing with every slam. Harry couldn't even form words—he just groaned, his hands sliding up to grab those bouncing orbs, and his thumbs flicking over her hard nipples. She arched into him, her head thrown back, and watching her lose it on top of him was almost enough to finish him right there.

He sat up fast, one arm snaking around her waist, and flipped them without pulling out. She yelped, then laughed, wild and sexy, as he pinned her under him, her legs hooking around his hips like a vice.

"My turn now," he growled, kissing her hard and messy as he thrust deep, setting a pace that was all heat and hunger. The bed groaned under them, the headboard smacking the wall, but they didn't give a damn. Gabrielle moaned loudly, her hands clawing at his back, and her nails carving hot lines into his skin as he pounded into her.

"Harry—oh, fuck, yes—" Her voice was trashed, that thick accent coming out stronger, and it lit him up, pushing him to go harder. He hitched one of her legs up higher, pulling it upright and resting the back of her thigh against his chest as he sank in deeper, and she cried out, her walls fluttering around him like she was about to explode. He could tell she was close, her breaths all short and frantic, so he eased off just a bit, dragging it out to keep her on the edge.

"Not yet, babe," he muttered against her neck, kissing the sweaty skin there, tasting the salt. "Wanna feel you like this longer."

She whined, half-laughing, half-begging. "You're a bastard."

"And you're eating it up," he shot back, grinning as he ramped up again, slamming into her so hard she gasped, loud and sharp. She did love it—her moans got wilder, her hips bucking up to meet every thrust, and when she came, it was with a raw, shuddering scream, her body locking down around him so tightly he nearly blew right then. He slowed, letting her ride it out, kissing her sloppy and deep as she shook under him.

When she caught her breath, she shoved at his chest, flipping them again until she was back on top.

"Ain't done with you," she panted, her eyes flashing with that naughty spark. She slid off him, spinning around to get on her hands and knees, and threw a hot look back over her shoulder that was pure sin. "Fuck me like this."

Harry didn't need to be asked twice. He scrambled up, kneeling behind her, his hands gripping her hips as he lined up and pushed in, groaning at how tight she felt from this angle—hotter, wetter, like she was sucking him in. She moaned loud, shoving back against him, and he started slow, watching her back arch, her ass bouncing with each thrust, all plump and perfect. In no time, he lost it, speeding up, pounding into her like he couldn't get enough. The room filled with the sound of skin slapping skin, her gasps, his grunts—raw, nasty, and so damn hot. His vision was filled with the sight of her plump ass jiggling as he pounded her hard and fast.

"Harder," she demanded, her voice muffled as she buried her face in the sheets, and he gave it to her, slamming in deep until she was trembling, her hands twisting the bedding into knots. He reached around, his fingers finding her clit, and started rubbing fast and rough to match his thrusts. She screamed his name when she came again, her whole body seizing up, pulsing around him so hard it dragged him over the edge. He buried himself to the hilt, groaning loud and guttural as he came as well, his hips jerking as he spilled inside her, the heat of it leaving him dizzy.

They crashed together, a sweaty, panting mess of tangled arms and legs on the trashed bed, the sheets twisted up like a war zone. But Gabrielle wasn't anywhere near tapped out—hell no. She rolled onto her side, her lips finding his for a slow, sloppy kiss, and her hand sneaking down to wrap around his cock, stroking him with this lazy, teasing grip.

"One more round. Come on," she whispered, her voice dripping with filthy promise, and he laughed, a rough, wrecked sound, already twitching to life under her touch.

She didn't wait for him to catch his breath. With a wicked little smirk, she let that veela magic hum through her, a warm, electric buzz that sank into his skin, lighting him up from the inside. He felt it hit—his dick hardening fast, like she'd flipped a switch, and he groaned, half-amazed, half-desperate.

"Fuck, you're unreal," he muttered, but she just grinned, all smug and sexy.

Gabrielle swung a leg over him, flipping around to face away—reverse cowgirl style—and sank down slow, letting him watch every inch of her take him in. Her hips rolled in these lazy, torturous circles, teasing the hell out of him, and he grabbed her ass, his palms full of her soft, bouncy curves, guiding her as she started to move faster. The view was pure porn—her back flexing, the muscles shifting under her skin, her hair spilling down like a wild cascade, and the way her tight, wet heat stretched around his cock, gripping him like she never wanted to let go. He couldn't peel his eyes off her.

She leaned forward, her hands bracing on his thighs, her nails digging in just enough to sting, and started riding him hard, bouncing with this raw, hungry rhythm that had his head spinning. Every slam of her hips sent a jolt through him, her ass jiggling with each thrust, and he couldn't resist—his hand came down with a sharp smack, cracking against her cheek. She gasped, a filthy little sound, and he did it again, harder, watching the skin flush pink under his palm.

"Fuck, yes," she moaned, grinding down even dirtier, clearly loving the sting.

Harry's hands slid up her sides as he tugged her toward himself, reaching around to grab her tits, and squeezing them rough and greedy. Her nipples were hard, begging for attention, and he pinched them between his fingers, rolling them as she bucked against him. She arched her back, pushing her chest into his hands, and he tugged harder, making her whimper—a high, filthy sound that shot straight to his groin.

"You like that?" he growled, his voice scraped raw, and she just nodded, too lost in it to talk, her hips never slowing.

He let one hand drift lower, his fingers brushing where they were joined, feeling how soaked she was, slick and messy from all they'd already done. He teased her clit with quick, light flicks, and she jolted, a loud "Oh, shit—" spilling out as her pace faltered for a second. He kept it up, circling faster, pressing harder, and she leaned back against his chest, her head lolling on his shoulder, giving him better access. Her breaths were ragged now, all hot and uneven against his neck, and he nipped at her earlobe, sucking it into his mouth as he worked her over.

She reached back, one hand tangling in his hair, pulling hard enough to make him hiss, and he retaliated with another smack to her ass, the sound echoing in the room.

"Harry—fuck, keep going," she panted, her voice a wrecked, sexy mess, and he grinned against her skin, loving how she was falling apart on top of him. Her hips rolled wilder, chasing that edge, and he matched her, thrusting up to meet her every time she slammed down, their bodies slapping together in a rhythm that was all heat and need.

When she came, it was quieter this time—a soft, shuddering moan that shook her whole body—but it hit her just as hard, her walls clamping down around him so tight he saw stars. He wasn't far behind; the feel of her pulsing, the sight of her trembling ass still bouncing on him, dragged him right over.

"Gabrielle—shit," he groaned, his hands locking onto her hips as he thrust up one last time, spilling deep inside her with a low, guttural sound that ripped out of his chest.

They stayed locked like that for a minute, gasping for air, her body still twitching around him, before she finally slid off, collapsing beside him in a sweaty heap. She curled into his side, one leg slung over his, her head resting on his chest as she caught her breath.

"Worth the wait?" he asked, his voice hoarse and rough, barely above a whisper.

She laughed, soft and sated, and pressed a lazy kiss to his chest, right over his pounding heart.

"Every damn second," she murmured, and they just lay there, totally spent, tangled up in each other.

Both knew what happened was just the beginning.

TBC.

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Chapter Text

Harry woke to sunlight streaming through half-drawn curtains and the soft sound of breathing beside him. For a moment, he simply stared at the ceiling, his mind replaying the events of the previous night. Gabrielle's perfume still clung to the sheets, constantly reminding him of what had transpired between them.

He turned his head slightly. She slept peacefully, her silvery-blonde hair splayed across the pillow, her face relaxed in the afterglow of their passionate lovemaking during the night. There was something vulnerable about her now, far removed from the confident diplomat who had stood in the gallery watching the proceedings.

With a yawn, he reached out and spooned her from behind, allowing himself to succumb to sleep once again.

He woke up sometime later to find the bed empty. Stretching, he pushed himself up on his elbows and looked around. His eyes caught sight of the closed bathroom door and he released a small breath, swinging his leg over the edge of the bed.

He sat there for a moment before slipping out of bed. He padded across the room to retrieve his wand from where it had fallen on the floor alongside scattered clothing. A quick tempus charm showed it was barely past seven—early, but not unreasonably so. The day's meetings wouldn't begin until nine.

As he moved toward the bathroom, his foot knocked against something solid. Gabrielle's bag had toppled over during their hasty undressing, spilling its contents partially onto the floor. Harry bent down to pick it up and noticed a sealed envelope that had slid out. The French Ministry's official seal caught his eye—not unusual for someone in Gabrielle's position, but something about it seemed off.

His auror instincts kicked in before he could think better of it. He cast a silent spell to check for any harmful enchantments—finding none—before turning the envelope over. It was addressed to Gabrielle Delacour, but the sender's name made his eyes narrow.

Mateo Calderón.

The Spanish representative who had been so vocal against Harry's refugee stance.

The bathroom door opened with a soft click, and Harry quickly returned the envelope to the bag, straightening up just as Gabrielle emerged, wrapped in a white hotel robe. Her hair was damp from the shower, and her face broke into a warm smile when she saw him.

"Good morning," she said softly, moving toward him with the easy grace that was second nature to a veela. "You look troubled."

Harry shook his head, forcing a smile. "Just thinking about today's meetings."

She reached him, placing a hand on his chest. "Always working, even now?" Her voice was light, teasing, but her eyes studied him carefully.

"Hard habit to break," he replied with a small smile as he leaned down to kiss her briefly. "I should get ready. I need to send an owl to London before the session begins."

Gabrielle nodded, stepping back. "I understand. I should be going soon anyway. The French delegation will be meeting for breakfast in an hour."

As she dressed, Harry watched her from the corner of his eye, trying to reconcile the woman who had melted against him last night with whatever connection she might have to Calderón. Was it merely professional correspondence between diplomats? Or something more?

"Will I see you tonight?" she asked, now fully dressed in sleek robes of periwinkle blue that complemented her eyes.

Harry nodded. "I'd like that."

She smiled, leaning in for one more lingering kiss before heading to the door. "Until then," she murmured, and was gone.

Harry waited until her footsteps faded down the hall before summoning his Patronus. The ethereal creature materialized before him, standing proud and expectant.

"To Susan Bones," he instructed. "Need background on correspondence history between Gabrielle Delacour of France and Mateo Calderón of Spain. Priority two. Discreet."

The Patronus bounded away, disappearing through the wall. Harry stared after it for a moment, feeling a twinge of guilt. Susan was his friend and his colleague, and even beyond that, she was one of the few people he trusted implicitly. She would understand the sensitivity of the request.

With a sigh, he headed for the shower. The hot water did little to wash away his suspicions.

-Break-

The morning session of the ICW was considerably less heated than the previous day, focusing on routine matters of international magical cooperation. Harry participated where necessary, but part of his mind remained fixed on Gabrielle and the letter.

She sat with the French delegation, occasionally catching his eye across the chamber. Each time, she offered a small smile that seemed genuine enough. Nothing in her demeanor suggested duplicity.

During a brief recess, Harry found himself cornered by Eleanor Beckett, the American representative.

"Director Potter," she greeted him, adjusting her square-framed glasses with one finger. "I wanted to clarify something about yesterday's discussion."

Harry nodded, taking a sip from his goblet of water. "Of course."

"While the United States' official position remains firm on migration control, I personally found your arguments compelling." Her voice dropped slightly. "Not all of us see the situation in black and white."

Harry studied her face, searching for any sign of insincerity but finding none. "I appreciate that, Representative Beckett. Perhaps there's room for compromise if we focus on specific cases rather than sweeping policies."

She gave him a measured nod. "Perhaps. Though I can't speak for everyone in my delegation, I believe we could support targeted programs for refugees who meet certain security criteria."

"That would be a start," Harry acknowledged.

Beckett glanced around the room before continuing. "I should warn you, Director. Calderón has been gathering support for a much stronger proposal than what he presented yesterday. Spain is pushing for mandatory registration of all refugees, including magical signature cataloging."

Harry frowned. "That's essentially treating them all as criminals before they've done anything wrong."

"Exactly," Beckett agreed. "And from what I hear, he has France's support already."

Harry's eyes involuntarily flicked toward the French delegation, where Gabrielle stood in conversation with her superiors. As if sensing his gaze, she looked up, her expression unreadable from this distance.

"Thank you for the information," Harry said, turning back to Beckett. "I should prepare for the afternoon session."

She nodded, and Harry's brows furrowed slightly when he saw her hesitate for a moment. Finally, she spoke, "One more thing, Director Potter. Be careful who you trust here. Not everyone's motivations are as transparent as they seem."

With that cryptic warning, she moved away, leaving Harry with an even greater sense of unease. He had become rather cutthroat since the war, but he had dropped his guard last night. Had that been a mistake? His eyes hardened as he considered the possibility.

The afternoon session began promptly at two. Harry had just settled into his seat when a ministry owl swooped through one of the high windows, dropping a sealed letter on his desk before departing. The British Ministry seal told him it was from Susan.

He broke the seal discreetly, unfolding the parchment beneath the desk.

H,

Seven correspondences in the last month. Content unknown. C visited Paris three weeks ago for two days. No official meetings on record. D recently promoted to special advisor on refugee matters. Connection to Grandmother may be relevant. Will continue digging.

Be careful.

S

Harry folded the letter and vanished it with a tap of his wand. Seven letters in a month was far more than routine diplomatic communication would warrant. And what was this about Gabrielle's grandmother? As far as Harry knew, Gabrielle's veela heritage came from her maternal grandmother, but he couldn't see how that would be relevant to the current situation.

His thoughts were interrupted as the Chief Warlock called the session to order.

"Representatives," the elderly wizard announced, "we turn now to the matters left unresolved from yesterday's discussion. The Spanish delegation has submitted a formal proposal regarding the refugee situation. Representative Calderón, you have the floor."

Calderón rose, his dark robes immaculate as he stepped to the central podium. "Thank you, Chief Warlock. Esteemed colleagues, after careful consideration and consultation with multiple delegations, Spain puts forward the following measures to address our shared concerns."

He waved his wand, and copies of a document appeared before each representative. Harry scanned it quickly, his jaw tightening as he read.

"First," Calderón continued, "we propose mandatory registration of all magical refugees, including wand registration and magical signature cataloging. Second, establishment of designated settlement areas within each receiving nation, with monitoring charms to track movement. Third, a five-year probationary period during which refugees cannot hold certain positions within magical governments."

Murmurs spread throughout the chamber. Harry felt his pulse quicken as he read further down the document. The proposed restrictions were draconian, treating refugees as little better than parolees.

"Additionally," Calderón went on, "we suggest the creation of an international task force specifically dedicated to identifying and apprehending former Death Eaters and their sympathizers who may be hiding among legitimate refugees."

Harry raised his hand, and the Chief Warlock nodded in his direction. "Director Potter."

Harry stood, his voice steady despite his anger. "While I appreciate Spain's concerns for security, these measures go well beyond reasonable precaution. They effectively criminalize being displaced. The vast majority of these people are victims, not perpetrators."

Calderón's expression remained polite, but his eyes hardened. "With respect, Director Potter, easy words from a man whose country has not borne the brunt of this crisis. Spain has taken in over ten thousand magical refugees in the past three years. The strain on our resources is immense, and our citizens deserve protection."

"Protection does not require dehumanization," Harry countered. "Treating refugees as suspects undermines the very values we claim to uphold. There are less invasive ways to ensure security."

The French representative, a silver-haired wizard named Dubois, stood next. "France supports Spain's proposal with minor modifications. The reality is that we cannot distinguish between those fleeing persecution and those who were the persecutors without proper measures."

Harry scanned the French delegation, finding Gabrielle's face among them. Her expression was carefully neutral, but she didn't meet his eyes.

The debate continued for nearly two hours, with positions forming along predictable lines. Northern European countries largely supported Harry's more moderate approach, while southern nations facing the largest influx of refugees backed Spain's proposal. The United States, true to Beckett's hint, suggested a compromise position focusing on high-risk individuals rather than blanket policies.

By the session's end, it was clear no consensus would be reached that day. The Chief Warlock called for a committee to draft a compromise proposal overnight, with representatives from Britain, Spain, France, Germany, and the United States.

As the session adjourned, Harry gathered his papers, deliberately taking his time. He needed to speak with Gabrielle, to gauge her position directly rather than making assumptions.

He waited until most of the chamber had cleared before approaching the French delegation. Gabrielle stood in conversation with Dubois, but she looked up as Harry approached.

"Director Potter," Dubois greeted him with a thin smile. "Your passion for the refugee cause is admirable, if perhaps impractical."

"I prefer to think of it as principled," Harry replied evenly. He had a few choice words about how the allies had turned sides but he refrained. He had a more pressing matter to take care of. "Ms. Delacour, might I have a word? I believe we have some areas of potential compromise to discuss before the committee meeting."

Gabrielle glanced at Dubois, who nodded slightly. "Of course," she said, stepping away from her superior. "Perhaps we could walk in the gardens? The committee doesn't meet for another hour."

Harry agreed, and they made their way out of the chamber and down a flight of marble stairs to the courtyard gardens behind the building. Spring flowers bloomed in carefully tended beds, and a fountain burbled peacefully at the center.

Once they were sufficiently distant from other diplomats taking air, Harry spoke quietly. "You didn't mention your position on the refugee proposal."

Gabrielle sighed, turning to face him. "My personal position or France's position?"

"Are they different?"

"You know they are," she replied, a hint of irritation in her voice. "I'm an advisor, Harry, not the Head of Delegation. My opinions aren't always reflected in our official stance."

Harry studied her face. "And yet you've been corresponding regularly with Calderón. Seven letters in the last month seems like more than casual diplomatic exchange."

Her eyes widened slightly before narrowing. "You've been investigating me?"

"I'm head of Magical Law Enforcement. Noticing things is my job."

Gabrielle's cheeks flushed with anger. "And what did you think you'd find? Evidence of some conspiracy? Or just confirmation that last night was a mistake?"

Harry took a step back, surprised by her vehemence. "That's not fair. This isn't about last night."

"Isn't it?" she challenged. "You wake up next to me and your first instinct is to run a background check?"

"My first instinct was to wonder why the Spanish representative leading opposition to my refugee position is secretly communicating with the woman in my bed," Harry retorted, keeping his voice low.

Gabrielle's expression shifted from anger to something more complex. "Not everything is about you, Harry. Or about politics."

"Then explain it to me," he said. "Because from where I'm standing, the timing seems suspicious at best."

She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes locked with his before she glanced around to ensure they weren't being overheard. "Not here," she said finally. "Meet me at my hotel room after the committee meeting. The Ritz, room 512. I'll explain everything then."

Without waiting for his response, she turned and walked back toward the building, leaving Harry alone in the garden with more questions than answers.

-Break-

The committee meeting was as contentious as Harry had expected. For three hours, they argued over the finer points of Calderón's proposal, with Harry pushing back against the most severe restrictions while searching for acceptable compromises. Throughout, Gabrielle sat silent at Dubois's side, taking notes and occasionally whispering in her superior's ear.

By the meeting's end, they had hammered out a watered-down version that still included registration requirements but eliminated the designated settlement areas and reduced the probationary period to two years. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than the original.

"We will present this compromise to the full assembly tomorrow," Dubois concluded, gathering his papers. "Unless there are further objections?"

Harry shook his head, exhausted. "It will suffice for now."

As the committee dispersed, Harry caught Gabrielle's eye and received a small nod in return. Their meeting was still on.

He returned to his room first, sending a Patronus message to Susan updating her on the committee's decision and requesting any additional information she might have uncovered. Then he checked the time—just past nine. He'd give Gabrielle an hour to return to her hotel before following.

At five minutes past ten, Harry knocked on the door of room 512 at the Ritz. He'd cast a disillusionment charm on himself during the walk over, not wanting to be seen entering a French diplomat's hotel room during sensitive negotiations.

The door opened, and Gabrielle ushered him inside quickly. She had changed from her formal robes into casual slacks and a loose blouse, her hair pulled back in a simple ponytail. The room was smaller than his, with a sitting area separate from the bedroom.

"Would you like something to drink?" she offered, gesturing to a bottle of wine on the coffee table.

Harry shook his head. "I'd prefer clarity."

Gabrielle sighed, sinking onto the sofa. "Always straight to business. Sit down, Harry. This might take a while."

He took the armchair opposite her, waiting.

"My grandmother wasn't just any veela," she began, surprising him with this apparent non sequitur. "She was a leader among her people before she married my grandfather and moved to France. Veela have their own refugee problems—they've been persecuted for centuries, their communities broken apart, families separated across borders."

Harry frowned. "I don't see the connection."

"The connection," Gabrielle said patiently, "is that I grew up listening to her stories. About being forced to flee, about being treated with suspicion wherever they went, about losing family members who couldn't escape in time." She leaned forward. "When I was appointed as special advisor on refugee matters, it wasn't random. I lobbied for the position because I care deeply about this issue."

"That still doesn't explain Calderón," Harry pointed out.

Gabrielle reached for a folder on the side table and handed it to him. "This might."

Harry opened it to find copies of the letters between Gabrielle and Calderón. He scanned them quickly, his brow furrowing as he read. They detailed a plan—not to restrict refugees, but to identify and extract specific individuals from among them. Names were mentioned: former resistance fighters against Voldemort's foreign allies, wandmakers whose skills made them targets, even families with children showing extraordinary magical potential.

"What am I looking at?" he asked, looking up at her.

"A rescue operation," Gabrielle said simply. "Calderón and his team has been identifying high-risk refugees who need special protection—people who would be specifically targeted by remaining Death Eater sympathizers. The registration program gives us cover to identify them and extract them to safer locations."

Harry flipped through more pages. "This isn't in Calderón's official proposal."

"Of course not," Gabrielle replied. "The official proposal is the cover. We needed something that would appeal to security-minded officials while allowing us to implement the rescue operation beneath the surface."

"So Calderón's hardline stance is... what? An act?"

Gabrielle shook her head. "Not entirely. He genuinely believes stronger security is necessary. But he also recognizes that some refugees deserve special protection. It's complicated, Harry. Not everyone fits neatly into the categories you want them to."

Harry set the folder down, processing this new information. "Why didn't you tell me? We could have worked together on this."

"Would you have agreed to a registration program, even knowing its true purpose?" she challenged. "Or would you have insisted on finding another way, one that might not have gained enough support to pass?"

Harry didn't answer immediately, knowing she had a point. "You still should have trusted me."

"It wasn't about trust," she said softly. "It was about effectiveness. Your moral stance is admirable, but sometimes compromise is necessary to achieve any progress at all."

"And last night?" he asked, the question he'd been holding back finally emerging. "Was that part of the operation too? Get close to Potter, make sure he doesn't interfere?"

Hurt flashed across Gabrielle's face. "That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" he pressed. "The timing seems convenient."

She stood abruptly, anger flaring in her eyes. "I've been attracted to you since I was an immature teenager, Harry Potter. You saved my life during the Triwizard Tournament, or have you forgotten? Last night happened because I wanted it to, not because of some political scheme."

Harry rose too, suddenly aware of how close they were standing. "I haven't forgotten," he said more gently. "But you have to admit, from my perspective—"

"From your perspective, everything revolves around your crusades," she interrupted. "Has it occurred to you that some of us are fighting the same battles but with different methods?"

They stared at each other, the tension between them shifting from anger to something else. Harry became acutely aware of her breathing, of the slight flush on her cheeks, and of how her eyes darkened as she looked at him.

"I'm sorry," he said finally. "I shouldn't have assumed the worst."

Her expression softened. "And I should have been more forthcoming. We both have trust issues, it seems."

Harry couldn't help the small laugh that escaped him. "Occupational hazard."

Gabrielle's lips curved into a smile. "Perhaps we can find a better way to occupy ourselves now?"

The question hung in the air between them, loaded with insinuation as she gazed at him with the same look in her eyes that she had the previous night. Harry hesitated only briefly before closing the distance between them, his hands finding her waist as his lips sought hers.

Unlike their first night together, this kiss wasn't frantic or desperate. It was slower, more intimate, as if they were both taking time to reconsider what they were doing. Gabrielle's hands slid up his chest to his shoulders, her touch firm and certain.

When they broke apart, she took his hand and led him toward the bedroom without a word. This time, there was no need for pretense or excuse. They both knew exactly what they wanted.

Gabrielle's bedroom was dimly lit, a soft glow from a single lamp casting long shadows across the walls. Harry followed her inside, his hand still clasped in hers, warm and steady. She didn't pause, didn't hesitate, just turned to face him as they reached the edge of the bed. Her eyes locked onto his, dark and intent, and she tugged him closer, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

He didn't need more invitation than that. His hands slid to her hips, pulling her flush against him, and their lips met again. The kiss was deeper this time, hungrier, her mouth parting under his as she pressed herself closer. A quiet moan escaped her, low and throaty, vibrating against his lips. Harry's pulse quickened, his grip tightening as he backed her toward the bed, their movements fluid, almost instinctive.

The mattress dipped under their weight as Gabrielle sat, her hands quick to tug at his shirt, pulling it over his head in one smooth motion. Her fingers grazed his chest, warm and teasing, tracing the lines of muscle before she leaned in, her lips brushing against his collarbone. Harry let out a soft groan, his hands finding the hem of her blouse. He lifted it slowly, savoring the way her skin felt under his fingertips, soft and warm. She raised her arms, letting him peel the fabric away, and her bra followed, discarded without a second thought.

Her skin glowed in the low light, and Harry paused for a moment, taking her in. Gabrielle didn't shy away from his gaze. Instead, she reached for him, her hands sliding to the back of his neck, pulling him down into another kiss. Their mouths moved together, slow but intense, tongues brushing as their breaths grew heavier. She moaned again, softer this time, and the sound sent a jolt through him, urging him closer.

Harry's hands roamed her back, fingers splaying across her spine as he eased her down onto the bed. She arched under him, her body pressing up to meet his, and he could feel the heat radiating from her. His lips trailed from her mouth to her jaw, then down the column of her neck, where he lingered, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin. Gabrielle's breath hitched, a sharp gasp escaping her as her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging lightly.

"Harry," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, thick with need. It was the only word she managed before another moan slipped out, louder this time, as his mouth found the curve of her shoulder. He kissed lower, his hands sliding to her waist, unbuttoning her slacks with perfect ease. She lifted her hips, helping him slide the fabric down her legs, leaving her in only her lace knickers.

He paused again, his eyes meeting hers. She gazed back at him, her chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths, her lips parted. There was no question in her gaze, only certainty, and it was all the invitation he needed. His fingers hooked into the waistband of her knickers, pulling them down slowly, and she kicked them off, her movements impatient.

Gabrielle reached for him, her hands fumbling with the button of his trousers. Harry helped her, shedding the rest of his clothes quickly, and in no time, they were skin to skin, the heat of her body against his sending a shiver through him. She pulled him down, her legs parting as she guided him closer, and their mouths crashed together again, the kiss messy and urgent.

He settled between her thighs, one hand braced beside her head, the other sliding down her side, gripping her hip. She arched again, her nails digging into his shoulders as she pressed herself against him. A low groan rumbled in his chest, and he could feel her trembling beneath him, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

When he finally entered her, it was slow and measured, giving her time to adjust. Gabrielle's head tipped back, a long, drawn-out moan spilling from her lips. The sound was raw, unguarded, and it drove him deeper, his movements steady but firm. Her hands roamed his back, fingers pressing into muscle as she matched his rhythm, her hips rising to meet each thrust.

The room filled with the sounds of their breathing, their moans, and the soft creak of the bed. Harry's pace quickened, driven by the way she moved beneath him, by the way her moans grew louder, more desperate. All the while, she clung to him, her nails leaving faint marks on his skin, and he could feel her pussy walls tightening around his girth, her body tensing with every thrust.

"Harry," she gasped, her voice breaking as she arched higher, her legs wrapping around his waist. The word dissolved into another moan, high and breathless, and Harry's control slipped. He moved faster, harder, his hand sliding between them to find her clit. He began to rub her hard in a way that made her cry out, her body shuddering under his touch.

Gabrielle's moans turned into a string of incoherent sounds, each one louder than the last, her hands gripping him tighter. He could feel her nearing the edge, her breaths coming in sharp, uneven bursts. His own release was building, a tight coil in his core, but he focused on her, on the way her body responded to every touch, every movement.

Suddenly, her entire body tensed, a piercing cry tearing from her throat as her slick core spasmed violently around him. Her nails dug into his back, her rounded hips bucking against him as waves of pleasure rolled through her. Harry didn't stop, didn't slow, riding out her climax with steady thrusts, his own breaths ragged now. The sight of her, the sound of her, pushed him closer, his grip on her hip tightening as he chased his own release.

It hit him hard, a low groan escaping as he buried his throbbing length deep, his body shuddering with the force of it. Gabrielle's hands softened on his back, her touch turning gentle as she pulled him down, their foreheads pressing together. They stayed like that for a moment, their breaths mingling and their hearts pounding, the world reduced to the heat of their bodies and the quiet aftershocks of pleasure.

Harry rolled to the side, pulling her with him, and she curled against his chest, her toned leg draped over his. Her breathing was still uneven, but she was smiling, a soft, satisfied curve to her lips. He brushed a stray strand of hair from her flushed face, his thumb grazing her cheek, and she leaned into the touch, her eyes half-closed.

They didn't speak, and they didn't need to. The silence was comfortable, broken only by the occasional sigh or the rustle of sheets as they shifted closer. Harry's hand rested on her hip, his fingers tracing lazy patterns against her smooth skin, eliciting a soft, content hum from her.

Minutes passed, or maybe longer, time blurring in the haze of afterglow. Gabrielle stirred first, propping herself up on one elbow to look at him. Her eyes were still dark, but there was a playful glint in them now, a hint of mischief. She leaned in, kissing him softly, her lips lingering against his.

"Ready for round two?" she murmured, her voice low and teasing.

Harry chuckled, the sound rough but warm. "Give me a minute," he said, but his hand was already sliding down her back, pulling her closer. She laughed softly and straddled him, her movements slow as she took her time. The lamp's light caught the curve of her body, and Harry's breath caught, his hands settling on her thighs.

This time, she set the pace, her hips rolling in a slow, steady rhythm that had him groaning within seconds. Her hands braced against his chest, her nails grazing his skin as she moved, and the sounds she made—soft gasps and low moans—filled the room again. Harry watched her, captivated by the way her head tipped back and the way her lips parted with every breath, releasing breathless sounds with every fluid motion.

He sat up, wrapping an arm around her slim waist, and their mouths met in a messy, open-mouthed kiss. She moaned into it, her movements growing faster, more urgent, her slick heat gripping him tightly.

His hands roamed her body, one sliding up to cup her breast, his thumb brushing over her sensitive nipple. She gasped, her rhythm faltering for a moment before she pressed herself closer, her moans louder now, totally unrestrained as she impaled herself on his manhood rapidly.

The tension built quickly, their bodies moving in sync, and the heat between them soon became overwhelming. Gabrielle's breaths came in sharp bursts, her hands gripping his shoulders as she rode him harder, chasing her release. Harry's groans mingled with hers, his hands guiding her hips, urging her on.

Her trembling body convulsed, her slick walls clamping tightly around his throbbing length as intense, rolling waves of pleasure surged through her. Harry followed moments later, his own release hitting with a force that left him breathless, his pulsing length spilling deep inside her. His arms tightened around her as they rode out the waves of ecstasy together.

They collapsed back onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and sweat-slicked skin, both of them panting. Gabrielle laughed softly, the sound muffled against his chest, and Harry grinned, brushing a tender kiss against her damp forehead.

-Break-

Roughly fifteen minutes had passed and they lay tangled in the sheets, the city lights twinkling beyond the window. Gabrielle's head rested on Harry's chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns across his skin.

"We still have a problem," Harry said softly, breaking the comfortable silence. "The compromise proposal doesn't fully protect the most vulnerable refugees."

Gabrielle propped herself up on one elbow to look at him. "No, it doesn't. But it gives us a framework we can adapt."

"If I propose amendments tomorrow, focusing on protections for specific categories—children, the elderly, those with rare magical abilities—could you and Calderón support that?"

She considered this. "Possibly. If you frame it as a security measure—protecting valuable magical resources—Calderón could sell it to his delegation. The French would follow if both Britain and Spain agree."

Harry nodded, his mind already working through the implications. "And what about the rescue operation? How do I fit into that?"

"That depends," she said, studying his face. "Are you offering to help, or looking to take over?"

"Help," he clarified. "Britain has resources that could be useful, and I have contacts throughout Europe who still owe me favors."

Gabrielle smiled. "In that case, we could use your network. Particularly for extracting refugees from Eastern Europe where our reach is limited."

They spent the next hour outlining plans, strategies, and contingencies, their naked bodies pressed together as they worked. It was an odd way to conduct international diplomacy, Harry reflected with amusement, but somehow more honest than what happened in formal chambers.

Eventually, exhaustion caught up with them, and conversation gave way to sleep. Harry's last conscious thought was that he hadn't felt this balanced—between business and personal connection—in a very long time… and it left him with mixed feelings.

TBC.

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Chapter Text

Morning arrived too quickly. Harry woke to the sound of Gabrielle in the shower, sunlight already streaming through the windows. A quick tempus charm showed it was just past seven—the final ICW session would begin at ten.

He was up and reviewing his notes when Gabrielle emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. Her wet hair hung down her back, and her skin glowed in the morning light.

"Sleep well?" she asked, smiling as she moved to the wardrobe.

"Better than I have in a while," he admitted. "Though I'm not sure how much actual sleep was involved."

She laughed, dropping her towel unself-consciously and giving him an unrestricted view of her curves and softness as she began to dress. "A worthwhile trade, I think."

Harry watched her for a moment, then returned to his notes. "I've outlined the amendments I want to propose. Focused protections for three categories: magical children, elderly practitioners of rare forms of magic, and those with specialized knowledge like wandmaking or certain healing abilities."

Gabrielle nodded, fastening her robes. "Smart. Calderón can support that as protecting valuable magical resources and knowledge. I've sent him a message to meet us before the session begins."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Us?"

"Time to bring you officially into the fold," she said. "Unless you'd prefer to maintain plausible deniability?"

He shook his head. "No, I want to be directly involved. Though we should be careful about who knows about this... arrangement."

"The political one or the personal one?" she asked with a small smirk.

"Both," Harry replied with a smile of his own. "For now, at least."

They left the hotel separately, Harry remaining invisible again. They'd agreed to meet Calderón in a small café two blocks from the ICW chambers, neutral ground where they wouldn't attract undue attention.

The Spanish representative was already there when Harry arrived, seated at a corner table with a cup of espresso. His expression revealed nothing as Harry took the seat across from him.

"Potter," he greeted him, his accent more pronounced in the casual setting. "Miss Delacour tells me you've discovered our little operation."

"And that you've developed some interesting amendments to the proposal," Gabrielle added as she joined them, taking the seat beside the two men.

Calderón studied Harry's face. "Before we proceed, I need to know: Are you in this for the long term, Potter? This isn't a one-time collaboration. What we're building will take years."

Harry met his gaze steadily. "I'm in. For as long as it takes."

A slight smile tugged at Calderón's lips. "Good. Then let's hear these amendments of yours."

For the next thirty minutes, they refined Harry's proposals, adjusting language to appeal to different factions within the ICW. Calderón proved to be sharp and pragmatic, finding diplomatic workarounds that Harry would never have considered. It seemed even after years in the bureaucracy, there was still much he needed to learn.

"You'll introduce the amendments," Calderón decided finally. "Coming from Britain, they'll seem more idealistic, less calculating. I'll offer qualified support, suggesting minor adjustments that strengthen the security aspects while maintaining the protections."

"And France will enthusiastically endorse the compromise," Gabrielle added. "Creating the impression of a breakthrough in negotiations."

Harry shook his head, impressed despite himself. "You two have done this before."

"Politics is performance, Potter," Calderón said with a shrug. "Surely you've learned that by now."

The slight quirk of his lips was all the response Harry would give the man who merely smirked.

They parted ways outside the café, each heading to the chambers separately to avoid arousing suspicion.

The final session proceeded much as they had planned. Harry introduced his amendments, framing them as humanitarian measures that would simultaneously preserve valuable magical knowledge and traditions. Calderón offered measured support with strategic adjustments. France, through Dubois and with Gabrielle whispering in his ear, enthusiastically embraced the compromise.

Other nations fell in line as expected: Germany, the Nordic countries, and most of Eastern Europe supported the amended proposal, while Russia and a few others abstained. The United States, true to Beckett's earlier hint of flexibility, voted in favor after securing additional security provisions.

By the session's end, the compromise had passed with a comfortable majority. It wasn't perfect—refugees would still face registration and monitoring—but the most vulnerable would receive special protections, and the underground rescue network now had official cover to operate.

As the delegates began to disperse, handshakes and congratulations being exchanged across the chamber, Harry caught Gabrielle's eye across the room. She offered him a small, private smile that conveyed more than words could have.

Later, as Harry packed his belongings in preparation for moving on to his other agenda in France, a knock came at his door. He opened it to find Gabrielle standing there, a sealed envelope in her hand.

"Official communication from the French Ministry," she said formally, aware they might be observed in the hallway. "Regarding implementation of the new protocols."

Harry accepted the envelope with a nod. "Thank you, Ms. Delacour. I'll review it promptly."

Once the door closed behind her, he broke the seal and found not a formal document, but a handwritten note:

Dinner tonight? My place. 9 PM. The address is below. We have much to discuss about our ongoing collaboration.

And just below that was a red lipstick mark.

Harry smirked, chuckling the note into the fireplace. He had planned to get to his other agenda in France immediately, but surely one more night in the company of a veela was justified for… diplomatic reasons.

As he resumed packing, Harry reflected on how quickly everything had changed. What had begun as a contentious political debate had transformed into something far more complex—a secret rescue operation, unexpected political interests, and a connection he hadn't anticipated.

Perhaps Gabrielle had been right: it wasn't about escaping responsibility but finding the right way to fulfill it.

With that thought in mind, Harry finished his packing and began composing a message to Susan. There was much work ahead, and the future remained uncertain, but uncertainty had never stopped Harry Potter before.

-Break-

The evening air in Paris carried the scent of fresh bread and blooming jasmine as Harry made his way through the narrow cobblestone streets of the 7th arrondissement.

Gabrielle's apartment was tucked away in a quiet residential area, far from the tourist crowds and ministerial buildings. He'd taken his time getting there, stopping at a small florist to pick up white roses—not romantic, he had made sure, merely diplomatic courtesy.

The building was elegant in that understated French way, with wrought iron balconies and cream-colored stone that glowed softly in the lamplight. Harry found the entrance and climbed three flights of stairs to apartment 3B, pausing for a moment to collect his thoughts before knocking.

Gabrielle opened the door almost immediately, as if she'd been watching for him. She wore a simple black dress that fell just past her knees, her hair loose around her shoulders. The transformation from formal diplomat to this stunning woman was striking.

"You found it easily enough," she said, stepping aside to let him enter.

"Your directions were quite clear." Harry handed her the roses, watching her expression carefully. "I thought they might brighten the place."

"They're lovely." She accepted them with a genuine smile that reached her eyes. "Come in. I hope you're hungry—I may have gone a bit overboard with dinner."

The apartment was smaller than Harry had expected but tastefully decorated. Floor-to-ceiling windows opened onto a small balcony overlooking a tree-lined courtyard. Books were stacked on every available surface, and the walls displayed what looked like original artwork rather than reproductions.

"Wine?" Gabrielle asked, moving toward a sideboard where several bottles were arranged.

"Please." Harry wandered to the windows, taking in the view. "Remind me how long you've lived here?"

"Bought it when I transferred to the International Relations department." She uncorked a bottle of red wine with practiced ease. "It's quiet. I can actually think here."

Harry accepted the glass she offered, their fingers brushing momentarily. "It suits you. More personal than I expected from a diplomat's residence."

"What did you expect? Sterile government quarters filled with filing cabinets?"

"Something like that," he admitted with a small laugh. "Though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You've always been full of surprises."

Gabrielle tilted her head, studying him. "Have I? We barely knew each other during the tournament, and our interactions since have been largely professional."

Harry sipped his wine, choosing his words carefully. "Perhaps. But you made an impression even then. Most people in your situation would have panicked underwater. You didn't."

"I was unconscious."

"Before that. During the second task preparations. You knew something was wrong but you still participated. That takes a particular kind of courage."

A shadow crossed Gabrielle's expression. "Or a particular kind of foolishness. I was a kid and convinced I was invincible."

"And now?"

"Now I know better." She moved to the kitchen, which was separated from the living area by a marble counter. "Dinner should be ready in a few minutes. I hope you like coq au vin."

"I'm sure it's excellent." Harry followed her, leaning against the counter. "You cook often?"

"When I can. It's relaxing after long days of negotiation and political maneuvering." She lifted the lid of a heavy pot, releasing a rich aroma of wine and herbs. "Plus, it's one of the few things I learned from Maman that doesn't involve charm work or beauty potions."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Your mother taught you beauty potions?"

"Veela, remember? There are certain... expectations." Gabrielle's tone was carefully neutral, but Harry caught the hint of irritation underneath. "Though I've always preferred more practical stuff."

"Like the coordination work you've been doing with Calderón."

She glanced at him sharply. "You're direct tonight."

"I find it saves time." Harry swirled his wine, watching the liquid catch the light. "How long have you been planning this rescue operation?"

"Almost two years. Since the refugee crisis began escalating." Gabrielle plated their dinner with efficiency. "We discovered we had similar concerns during a conference in Brussels. The cooperation grew from there."

"Just the two of you?"

"Initially. We've brought in others as needed—carefully vetted contacts who share our goals." She handed him a plate. "The dining table is there, by the window."

They settled across from each other, the small table creating an intimate atmosphere despite the serious nature of their conversation. The food was excellent, rich and flavorful, but Harry found himself more interested in watching Gabrielle than eating.

"Tell me about the others," he said after they'd eaten in comfortable silence for several minutes.

"What others?"

"The carefully vetted contacts. I assume you have people in various ministries, possibly some in law enforcement. A network this sophisticated doesn't run itself."

Gabrielle set down her fork, meeting his gaze directly. "Why does it matter? You agreed to help."

"Because I like to know who I'm working with. Call it an occupational hazard." Harry's tone remained conversational, but his eyes were sharp. "I've found that the most dangerous allies are the ones who keep secrets from their partners."

"Everyone keeps secrets, Harry. Even you, I'd wager."

"Some secrets. But not from people I'm trusting with sensitive operations that could end careers if they go wrong."

Gabrielle was quiet for a long moment, twirling her wine glass between her fingers. "There are twelve of us across six countries. Mid-level officials mostly, people with access but not enough visibility to attract attention. A few aurors, a couple of researchers, one person in the French archives department who's been invaluable for tracking refugee movements."

"Names?"

"Not tonight." Her voice carried a note of finality. "Trust has to be earned on both sides, don't you think?"

Harry nodded slowly. "Fair enough. What about funding? This kind of operation requires resources."

"Private donations mostly. There are wealthy families throughout Europe who remember what it was like to be hunted. They contribute quietly."

"And Calderón? He didn't strike me as the type to work on charity cases."

"He has his reasons. His sister was killed by Death Eaters during the war—she was visiting London on a student exchange." Gabrielle's expression softened slightly. "He blames himself for not bringing her home sooner."

That explained the Spanish representative's passion, Harry thought. Guilt was a powerful motivator. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Not many people do. Calderón doesn't discuss personal matters." She took a sip of wine. "What about you? What's driving your involvement in this?"

Harry considered how much to reveal. "I've seen what happens when good people do nothing. During the war, after the war. Sometimes the system isn't enough."

"Sometimes the system is the problem," Gabrielle agreed. "The ICW talks about international cooperation, but when it comes to actual crisis response, politics always takes precedence over humanitarian concerns."

"Is that why you agreed to work within Calderón's framework? Even though it requires treating refugees like potential criminals?"

"Progress requires compromise. You can't let perfect be the enemy of good." She leaned back in her chair, studying him. "Though I suspect you understand that better than most. The Boy Who Lived couldn't have survived by always choosing the moral high ground."

Harry felt a flicker of something—surprise, perhaps, or recognition. "What makes you say that?"

"Because you're still alive. Because you won. And because..." She hesitated, then continued. "Because you investigated me without hesitation when you suspected I might be working against you. That's not the action of someone who always assumes the best in people."

"Would you prefer I had assumed the best?"

"No," she said quietly. "I respect it. Too many people in our line of work are either naive or paranoid. You've found a middle ground."

They finished dinner as the conversation shifted to lighter topics—books, travel, the peculiarities of international magical law. But Harry found himself analyzing everything Gabrielle said, searching for inconsistencies or tells that might reveal more than she intended.

She was good, he had to admit. Her answers were consistent, her explanations logical. But there was something about the timing that still bothered him. The rescue operation was elegant and well-planned, but it also provided perfect cover for someone with different objectives.

"You're thinking very hard about something," Gabrielle observed as she cleared their plates.

"Just wondering how this all fits together. The timing, the relationships, the way everything came together so neatly."

"You don't trust neat solutions."

"I don't trust coincidences." Harry stood, helping her carry dishes to the kitchen. "And there have been quite a few coincidences lately."

"Such as?"

"Such as meeting you that first night. Such as you being assigned to refugee affairs right when this crisis is escalating. Such as Calderón having a sister killed by Death Eaters, giving him the perfect emotional motivation for this kind of work."

Gabrielle set the dishes in the sink and turned to face him, her expression unreadable. "Are you suggesting I'm lying?"

"I'm suggesting that in our line of work, stories that fit together too perfectly are usually constructed rather than natural."

"And what would be the purpose of such construction?"

Harry moved closer, close enough to see the slight tension around her eyes. "That depends on what you're really trying to accomplish."

"I told you what we're trying to accomplish."

"You told me what you want me to believe you're trying to accomplish. There's a difference."

For a moment, they stood there in the small kitchen, the air between them charged with tension that was part suspicion, part attraction. Then Gabrielle smiled—not the diplomatic smile she wore in meetings, but something more genuine and slightly predatory.

"You know," she said softly, "I was attracted to you during the tournament partly because you were dangerous. All that power, that willingness to do whatever was necessary. Most students would have died in that tournament."

"I'm not a student anymore."

"No. You're not." She stepped closer, close enough that he could smell her perfume, could see the slight flush on her cheeks. "You're much more dangerous now. More experienced. More ruthless when you need to be."

"Is that what you want? Someone dangerous?"

"I want someone who understands that sometimes the right choice isn't the clean choice. Someone who won't judge me for the compromises I've had to make." Her hand came up to rest on his chest, fingers splaying against the fabric of his shirt. "The question is, what do you want?"

Harry looked down at her, aware of the warmth of her hand, the way her breathing had quickened slightly. This was a decision point. He could step back, finally establish some professional distance, and keep his suspicions and his attraction for this woman separate. Or he could lean into both, use the connection to learn more about her real agenda while satisfying the desire that burned hotly between them.

"I want the truth," he said finally. "All of it. Eventually."

"Eventually," she agreed. "But not tonight."

"What about tonight?"

"Tonight, I want to forget about politics and refugees and international incidents." Her other hand joined the first, fingers beginning to work at the buttons of his shirt. "Tonight, I want to concentrate on more immediate concerns."

Harry caught her hands, stilling them. "This doesn't change anything. I still have questions."

"I know." She looked up at him, her eyes dark with want. "I still have secrets. But right now, I don't care about either of those things. Do you?"

He held her gaze for a long moment, weighing options and consequences. Then he released her hands and brought his own up to frame her face, thumbs brushing across her cheekbones.

"No," he said, and kissed her.

This time, there was no pretense of discovery or surprise. They both knew exactly what they were doing, what they wanted. Gabrielle's response was immediate and hungry, her mouth opening under his as her hands resumed their work on his shirt buttons.

They moved through the apartment like dancers following familiar choreography, pausing to kiss against walls, hands roaming and exploring as clothing began to disappear. By the time they reached her bedroom, Harry's shirt was gone and Gabrielle's dress was unzipped, hanging loose on her shoulders.

"You're still thinking," she murmured against his neck as they tumbled onto her bed.

"Am I?"

"You get this little line right here when you're analyzing something." She pressed a kiss to the spot between his eyebrows. "Even now, you're trying to figure me out."

"Maybe I like puzzles."

"Maybe I like being mysterious." She sat up, straddling his hips, and let her dress fall away completely. "But some things are exactly what they appear to be."

Harry's hands settled on her waist, thumbs stroking over the curve of her hips. "Such as?"

"Such as the fact that I've wanted you since I was a little girl. Such as the fact that you make me feel things I haven't felt in my life." She leaned down, her hair falling like a curtain around them. "Such as the fact that whatever games we might be playing, this isn't one of them."

Her kiss was softer this time, more intimate, and Harry felt some of his analytical distance slip away. His hands moved up her back, feeling the warmth of her skin and the slight tremor that ran through her as he touched her.

When she pulled back, her eyes were bright with desire but also something more vulnerable. "I need you to know," she said quietly, "that regardless of everything else, this is real for me. Whatever you might think about my motives or my agenda, what's happening between us is real."

Harry studied her face, a pulse of magic surrounding them for a moment as he kept looking for deception and found none. "I believe you," he said, and he knew he meant it.

The admission seemed to break something open between them. Gabrielle's next kiss was desperate, almost frantic, and Harry responded in kind, rolling them over so she was beneath him, her legs wrapping around his waist as they pressed together.

They made love with an intensity that surprised them both—hungry and almost competitive, as if each was trying to prove something to the other. Gabrielle was vocal in her pleasure, her moans and gasps filling the room as Harry's mouth and hands explored every inch of her body. When he took her breast into his mouth, sucking gently while his fingers worked between her legs, she arched against him with a cry that was part pleasure, part frustration.

"Harry, please," she gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders. "I need—"

"I know what you need," he murmured against her skin, adding a second finger to join the first inside her. She was incredibly wet, her body responding eagerly to his touch, and the knowledge sent a surge of desire through him.

Gabrielle's breath hitched, her hips bucking against his hand. Her skin felt electric, every nerve sparking under his touch. She clutched at him, desperate for more, her voice breaking into a low moan as he curled his fingers just right. The room seemed to shrink around them, the air heavy with heat and want. Harry's lips grazed her collarbone, then her neck, leaving a trail of warmth that made her shiver. He was relentless, his focus entirely on her, watching every twitch and gasp as if decoding a secret language written across her body.

She came with a sharp cry, her body tensing beneath him as waves of pleasure rolled through her. Harry watched her face as she climaxed, memorizing the way her eyes fluttered closed, the way her lips parted on breathless moans. Her chest heaved, her breaths ragged, and for a moment, she looked almost vulnerable—like she'd given him something she hadn't meant to. He didn't pull away, though. He stayed close, his fingers slowing but not stopping, drawing out the aftershocks until she was trembling.

Gabrielle's eyes opened, hazy but filled with need. "You're too good at that," she said, her voice rough, a half-laugh breaking through. She reached for him, pulling him closer, her lips crashing against his in a kiss that was all teeth and urgency. Her hands roamed his chest, fingers tangling in the dusting of hair there, then sliding lower to grip his hips. She wasn't done—not even close.

Harry groaned into her mouth, the sound vibrating between them. Her touch was bold, unhesitating, and it set him on edge in the best way. He shifted, positioning himself between her thighs, but he didn't rush. Leaning back, he took in the vision that she was as he slapped his cock against her pulsing snatch, coating the bulbous head with her vaginal juices.

"Stop teasing already!"

Her cry of complaint made him smirk and he took the time to tease her some more, pressing the head against her wet entrance but not quite entering her. Gabrielle glared at him even though sharp gasps escaped her until finally, Harry decided he'd teased her enough.

Lining himself against her welcoming entrance, Harry entered her slowly, savoring the way she stretched around him, the way her body welcomed him. Gabrielle's eyes locked with his, wide and fierce, as if daring him to look away. He didn't. Holding her gaze, he pulled back until only the tip remained inside before he slammed forward, burying himself to the hilt inside her.

"Oh, yes," she breathed, her hips rising to meet his thrusts. "Just like that."

Harry braced himself on his forearms, keeping his weight off her while fucking her with deep, steady rhythm she seemed to crave. Her hands roamed his back, alternately gripping and stroking, her legs tight around his waist. Every movement felt like a conversation—push and pull, give and take. Her nails raked lightly down his spine, and he hissed, the sensation sharp but not unwelcome. She smirked up at him, clearly pleased with herself, and he couldn't help but grin back.

The room filled with the sounds of their fucking—skin slapping against skin, breathless moans, and whispered encouragements. Gabrielle's voice was a constant, a mix of soft curses and his name, each sound spurring him on. She was louder than the two times they'd been together, entirely unapologetic, and it drove him wild. He quickened his pace, just enough to make her gasp, her head tipping back against the pillow. Her hair fanned out, silvery-blonde strands sticking to her sweat-dampened skin, and he thought she'd never looked more beautiful.

"Harry," she said, her voice tight, almost a warning. Her hands found his shoulders again, nails biting into his skin as she arched into him. He could feel her getting close, her body tightening around him, and it pushed him closer to his own edge. He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear.

"Let go," he whispered, his voice low and rough. "I've got you."

That was all it took. Gabrielle came again, her inner walls clenching around him, her cry sharp and unrestrained. Her body shuddered beneath him, her legs trembling as she rode out the wave. Harry watched her, captivated, his own control slipping. Her pleasure was his undoing. He buried himself deep, his release crashing over him with a force that left him breathless. He groaned her name, his voice lost in the haze of it all, his body shaking as he spilled into her.

They collapsed together, a tangle of limbs and heavy breaths. Gabrielle's head rested on Harry's chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns across his ribs. The room was quiet now, save for their breathing and the faint hum of the city beyond the window.

"That was..." she began, then trailed off.

"Intense," Harry finished for her.

"I was going to say 'necessary,' but intense works too." She propped herself up on one elbow to look at him. "You're very good at that."

"Thank you. So are you."

She laughed softly. "Such proper manners, even in bed."

"Would you prefer something else?"

"I prefer honesty. In all things." Her expression grew more serious. "Which brings us back to our earlier conversation."

Harry brushed a strand of hair from her face. "The one about trust and secrets?"

"That's the one. I meant what I said before—trust has to be earned. But I also meant what I said just now. This is real for me, Harry. Whatever else is happening, whatever other agendas might be in play, what I feel for you isn't strategic."

"But there are other agendas in play."

"There always are. The question is whether we can navigate them without destroying what we've got between us here. I'm not dumb to think we're in or will be in a relationship, but even then, this is real for me."

Harry considered her words, his fingers combing through her hair. "The rescue operation—how many people have you extracted so far?"

"Seventeen families. Forty-three individuals total." Her answer came without hesitation, which was either a sign of honesty or very good preparation. "Why?"

"Just wondering about the scope. Seventeen families seems like a good start, but hardly enough to justify a two-year operation."

"We've been careful. Moving too quickly would attract attention." She shifted, settling more comfortably against his side. "Plus, we're still building our network. The goal is to be able to handle much larger numbers as the situation deteriorates."

"You think it will deteriorate?"

"Don't you? The ICW vote today was a step in the right direction, but it's not going to solve the underlying problems. If anything, it might make some countries less willing to accept refugees voluntarily, knowing they'll be subject to registration and monitoring."

Harry had to admit she had a point. The compromise they'd reached was better than Calderón's original proposal, but it was still far from ideal. "So the rescue operation becomes more important."

"Exactly. Which is why we need your help. Britain has resources and connections that could make a real difference."

"And what exactly would you need from me?"

"Access to your network, for one thing. We need reliable people in various countries who can help with transportation and documentation." She paused, seeming to weigh her words. "Also, we could use someone with your reputation to help secure funding from British sources."

"My reputation?"

"Harry Potter, the Man Who Won, asking for help on behalf of war refugees? Most people wouldn't be able to say no." She smiled slightly. "It's not the most subtle approach, but it's effective."

Harry felt a familiar mixture of irritation and resignation. His fame was a tool he'd learned to use when necessary, but he'd never felt entirely comfortable with it. "You've thought this through."

"I've had a while to think it through. The question is whether you're willing to be that public about your involvement."

"That depends on what else is involved. You mentioned seventeen families so far—do you have a list of who they were, where they came from?"

"Of course. Though I don't carry that information with me for obvious reasons."

"Obvious reasons being that if you were compromised, the list could be used to track down the refugees you've helped."

"Among other things, yes."

Harry nodded, filing away the information. "What about the other members of your network? How much do they know about each other?"

"As little as possible. Compartmentalization is essential for operations like this." Gabrielle's tone was becoming more cautious. "Why all the operational questions?"

"Because if I'm going to be involved, I need to understand how things work. What the risks are, what the safeguards are." He met her gaze directly. "And because I'm trying to decide how much I can trust you."

"And what's your conclusion so far?"

"That you're very good at this. Almost too good." Harry's hand stilled in her hair. "The operation is well-planned, your explanations are consistent, and your emotional appeals are perfectly calibrated. It's either genuine or very sophisticated manipulation."

Gabrielle was quiet for a long moment, her expression unreadable. "And which do you think it is?"

"I think you're telling me mostly the truth. But I also think there are things you're not telling me, things that might change my perspective if I knew them."

"Such as?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out." Harry sat up slightly, forcing her to adjust her position. "For instance, how did you know I'd be at that gallery opening the first time we met after all those years?"

"I didn't. It was a coincidence."

"Was it? Because that would be quite a coincidence—you happening to be there the night before I was scheduled to speak at the ICW."

Gabrielle's eyes flashed with something that might have been annoyance. "Not everything is a conspiracy, Harry. Sometimes events really are random."

"In my experience, when something seems too convenient to be true, it usually is."

"Then perhaps your experience has made you paranoid."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps it's kept me alive." Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed, reaching for his discarded trousers. "I should go."

"Wait." Gabrielle caught his arm. "Don't leave. Not like this."

"Like what?"

"Angry and suspicious and believing I'm lying to you."

Harry paused, looking down at her. She made a striking picture—naked, her hair tousled, her eyes bright with frustration and something that looked like genuine hurt.

"I'm not angry," he said finally. "But I am suspicious. And until I can figure out why, it's probably better if I maintain some distance."

"Distance won't give you the answers you're looking for."

"Maybe not. But it might prevent me from making decisions based on the wrong information."

Gabrielle released his arm, sitting back against the headboard. "You're going to investigate me. Properly this time."

"Yes."

"And if you find something you don't like?"

"Then I'll deal with it accordingly."

She nodded slowly. "I understand. I don't like it, but I understand."

Harry finished dressing in silence, aware of her watching him but not sure what else to say. The evening had been a mixture of revelation and confusion, of growing trust and persistent doubt.

At the bedroom door, he turned back. "For what it's worth, I believe you when you say this is real for you. What's between us, I mean. That's the only reason I was there with you."

"But you don't believe the rest of it."

"I believe some of it. Maybe most of it. But there's something else going on, something you're not telling me, and until I know what that is..."

"You can't trust me."

"I can't trust the situation," Harry corrected. "There's a difference."

Gabrielle pulled the sheet up to cover herself, suddenly looking very reserved despite her obvious sophistication. "What happens now?"

"Now I go back to do my job. I'll honor the agreement we made regarding the ICW proposal, and I'll consider your request for help with the rescue operation. But any personal involvement will have to wait until I'm satisfied that I understand what I'm getting into."

"And if you decide you don't like what you find?"

Harry considered the question seriously. "Then I'll make sure you know where I stand. You deserve that much honesty, at least."

"Thank you," she said quietly. "I think."

Harry didn't look back again as he let himself out of the apartment, his mind already racing with plans and possibilities. The evening had raised more questions than it had answered, but it had also given him a clearer sense of what he was dealing with.

Gabrielle Delacour was intelligent, passionate, and almost certainly hiding something important. Whether that something was dangerous remained to be seen. But Harry had learned long ago that when it came to matters of trust, it was better to verify than to assume.

Walking through the quiet Paris streets, Harry found himself thinking not about the refugee crisis or international politics, but about the look in Gabrielle's eyes when she'd told him this was real for her.

He hoped, for both their sakes, that she was telling the truth about that at least. Because despite his suspicions and his professional caution, Harry was beginning to consider the prospect of marking her as his as well.

And that, perhaps more than anything else, was what had him undecided about it all.

TBC.

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Chapter Text

The tavern reeked of stale butterbeer, grime, and sweat.

Ron Weasley tugged at his frayed robes, trying to make himself look presentable as he approached the large corner table where nearly a dozen wizards sat. Their faces were half-hidden in shadow, but their reputation preceded them. Everyone in the seedier parts of the wizarding world knew about Marcus Thornfield and his crew.

"Mr. Weasley," Thornfield drawled, not bothering to look up from his drink. "Right on time. I do appreciate punctuality."

Ron's hands trembled as he pulled out a rickety chair. The other men at the table watched him with varying degrees of amusement and contempt. "Yeah, well, I wouldn't want to keep you waiting, would I?"

Thornfield finally raised his head. His lips curved into a smile, his perfect teeth on full display. It held no warmth at all. Cold gray eyes assessed Ron like a piece of meat. "Indeed not. That would be rather... unwise."

The men around the table chuckled. Ron recognized a few faces from wanted posters - Crenshaw and Maltby, both ex-Azkaban residents who'd found new careers in loan sharking and intimidation. Others he didn't know, but their scarred faces and predatory expressions told him enough. There were amongst the most unsavory lot in Wizarding Britain.

"Nervous, Weasley?" asked a thin man with a sneer. "You look like you're about to wet yourself."

More laughter rippled around the table. Ron's face flushed red with a mix of anger and embarrassment.

"I'm fine, thanks. Just eager to get down to business."

"Business," Thornfield repeated, savoring the word. "Yes, my associates tell me you're in need of our services… again."

"Right, yeah, about that." Ron wiped his sweaty palms on his robes. "See, the thing is, I've got this business opportunity. Really promising stuff. Should pay off big time."

"Business opportunity." Thornfield's voice was flat, like he was humoring a particularly dim child. "How fascinating. Do tell."

Ron launched into his rehearsed lie. "Well, there's this... import business I'm looking into. Rare artifacts from Bulgaria. The profit margins are incredible. Absolutely incredible."

A stocky man with gold teeth—Maltby, Ron thought—snorted with laughter. "Import business? You? That's rich."

"I mean it!" Ron's voice cracked slightly. "I've got connections. People who know people, you know? The Bulgarian market is wide open for someone with the right contacts."

Several men exchanged knowing looks. They'd heard this song and dance before from desperate gamblers trying to justify their next fix.

"And these contacts," Thornfield said slowly, like he was genuinely curious, "they wouldn't happen to work at the Quidditch pitch, would they?"

Ron's face went pale, then red again. "I don't know what you're implying."

"Oh, I'm not implying anything, Mr. Weasley. I'm stating facts. You see, we keep very close tabs on our... prospective clients. You know, people who we believe might have need of our services soon. We like to know their habits, their vices, their personal lives. Everything."

Ron felt his breathing quicken. This was really not going the way he'd anticipated.

"We know exactly where you've been spending your time. And your money."

The thin man leaned forward. "Puddlemere United versus Ballycastle Bats last Tuesday. You lost fifty Galleons."

"Cannons versus Falcons on Friday," another added. "Another forty down the drain."

Ron's mouth opened and closed uselessly. His Bulgarian artifact story was crumbling around him.

Thornfield waved a dismissive hand. "Please, Mr. Weasley, let's dispense with the theatrics. We both know exactly what you want this money for. The question is whether you're going to continue insulting our intelligence."

The room fell silent except for the distant sounds of Knockturn Alley's nighttime affairs. Someone was shouting outside at a hag who was cursing at the man in return. Meanwhile, Ron stared at the table, his face burning with shame and desperation.

"The Cannons play United this weekend," he said quietly, all pretense abandoned. "The odds are thirty to one against them."

"Ah." Thornfield's smile returned. "Now we're getting somewhere. And you believe the Cannons will win?"

"I know they will." Ron looked up, his eyes blazing with the fervor of the truly addicted. "I've been following them for years. This is their year. I can feel it."

"You can feel it," Thornfield repeated thoughtfully. "Based on what, exactly? Their stellar record this season? Their string of victories?"

"They're due," Ron said desperately. "Law of averages. They can't keep losing forever."

The table erupted in laughter. Even the bartender glanced over with amusement.

"The law of averages," Crenshaw wheezed. "Oh, that's brilliant. The Cannons are due for a win because they've lost so much."

"That's not how probability works, you absolute muppet," the thin man added.

Ron's face darkened. "Look, do you want to do business or not? I need five hundred Galleons."

The laughter died down, replaced by calculating stares.

"Five hundred," Thornfield said slowly. "On top of the eight hundred you already owe us from your last 'sure thing.'"

Ron's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. "That's the beauty of it, see? When the Cannons win, I'll clear fifteen thousand Galleons. More than enough to pay back everything. With interest. Generous interest."

"Fifteen thousand," Maltby said admiringly. "He's not just thick, he's mathematically thick."

"Thirty to one odds on five hundred Galleons is fifteen thousand," Ron protested.

"Minus the eight hundred you already owe us," Thornfield pointed out. "Minus the five hundred you're borrowing now. Minus our interest rates, which I don't believe you've inquired about."

Ron's confident expression faltered. Numbers had never been his strong suit.

"But let's say, hypothetically, that your beloved Cannons do pull off this miracle," Thornfield continued. "What makes you think you'd actually collect your winnings? Cornelius Fudge's betting shop isn't exactly known for paying out large sums to... shall we say, financially unreliable customers."

"I'm good for it," Ron said quickly. "Everyone knows I'm good for it."

"Everyone knows you're a joke," the thin man said flatly.

The words hit Ron like a physical blow. Around the table, heads nodded in agreement.

"Now, now," Thornfield said with mock gentleness. "Let's not be unkind. Mr. Weasley has simply fallen on hard times. It happens to the best of us."

He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conversational tone that somehow made him more menacing.

"Of course, I can't help but wonder what your dear wife thinks of your... business ventures."

Ron stiffened. "Leave Hermione out of this."

"Oh, but she's already in it, isn't she?" Thornfield's smile was razor-sharp. "Joint bank accounts, shared assets, marital debt. The law is quite clear on these matters."

"She doesn't know about any of this," Ron said quickly.

"Doesn't she?" Crenshaw piped up. "Hard to hide thirteen hundred Galleons in debt from the woman who probably balances your books. That on top of your negative with BetVault."

"She thinks I'm having money troubles at work," Ron mumbled. "Temporary setback in my career."

The men around the table exchanged glances that clearly said 'pathetic.'

"And what happens when she finds out the truth?" Thornfield asked casually. "When she discovers that her war hero husband has been gambling away their future?"

Ron's hands clenched into fists. "That won't happen. The Cannons are going to win."

"Of course they are." Thornfield's tone was indulgent, like he was talking to a child who still believed in fairy tales. "But let's discuss terms, shall we?"

He pulled out a scroll of parchment that seemed much longer and more complex than any loan agreement should be.

"Standard interest rate is forty percent," Thornfield began, unrolling the document. "Compounded weekly."

"Forty percent?" Ron's voice cracked. "That's a bit steep, isn't it?"

"This is a high-risk loan, Mr. Weasley. Your credit history is... shall we say, colorful."

Ron barely listened as Thornfield continued reading terms and conditions. His mind was racing with visions of Galleons, of the look on Hermione's face when he paid off their mortgage early, of never having to borrow money again. A vindictive feeling rose in his chest at the thought of his wife. She'd been dismissive of him lately, disrespecting him at every opportunity. He'd show her he was the man. She'll know.

"In the event of default," Thornfield was saying, "we reserve the right to claim equivalent compensation through alternative means."

"Right, makes sense," Ron muttered.

"Including but not limited to personal property, real estate, and services rendered by the debtor or listed financial guarantor, which in case means the debtor's spouse, in any capacity the lender deems satisfactory."

"Yeah, whatever works." Ron nodded, his mind entirely elsewhere.

Maltby leaned over to whisper something in Crenshaw's ear. Both men snickered.

"I'm sorry," Thornfield said with false politeness, "did my associates say something amusing?"

"Just wondering about the services clause," Maltby said with a leer. "Specifically what kind of services the debtor's guarantor might provide."

"Oh, I think we can be creative," Thornfield replied smoothly. "Mrs. Weasley is quite accomplished, I hear. Brilliant mind, prestigious job at the Ministry. I'm sure we could find productive uses for her... talents."

The way he said 'talents' made Ron's skin crawl, but desperation overrode his protective instincts.

"She won't be involved," he said firmly. "I'll pay you back."

"Of course you will," Thornfield agreed. "But it's always wise to have contingencies."

He conjured a quill and held it out. "Sign here, if you would."

Ron took the quill without reading a single word of the contract. The parchment was covered in dense legal text, clauses within clauses, conditions that seemed to go on forever. None of it mattered. All that mattered was getting the money.

He scrawled his signature at the bottom with a flourish.

"Excellent." Thornfield rolled up the parchment with obvious satisfaction. "Always a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Weasley."

Crenshaw pulled out a leather pouch and counted out five hundred Galleons. The gold coins clinked together with a sound that made Ron's heart race with excitement.

"There you are," Thornfield said genially. "Your capital investment."

Ron's hands shook as he scooped the coins into his own pouch. "This is brilliant. You won't regret this, I promise."

"Oh, Mr. Weasley," Thornfield's smile was predatory. "I don't make investments I regret."

Ron stood up so quickly his chair almost toppled backward. "Right then, I'd better get going. Big day ahead tomorrow."

"Indeed. Do give our regards to Mrs. Weasley."

Several men chuckled at that. Ron missed the implication entirely, already mentally calculating his winnings.

"Thanks again, really," he babbled as he backed toward the door. "You're lifesavers, all of you. Absolute lifesavers."

He practically ran out of the tavern, clutching his pouch of Galleons like a lifeline.

The door slammed shut behind him, and silence settled over the table.

"Well," Crenshaw said finally, "that was almost too easy."

"Like taking candy from a baby," Maltby agreed, shaking his head. "A very stupid baby."

Thornfield signaled the barkeep for another round. "Gentlemen, I do believe we've just witnessed the final act of a once-proud man's downfall."

"Hard to believe that pathetic wreck helped bring down the Dark Lord," the thin man said with disgust. "Makes you wonder how they managed it."

"Luck," Crenshaw spat. "Pure dumb luck. Look at him now - crawling to us for gambling money like some common street addict."

"The mighty Ronald Weasley," Maltby laughed. "War hero, member of the famous Golden Trio. Now he's nothing but a degenerate gambler who can't even lie convincingly."

"His wife, though," the thin man said with renewed interest. "Now there's a different story entirely."

"Ah yes, the lovely Hermione Granger. Oh sorry, Weasley now," Thornfield's eyes gleamed. "Brightest witch of her age, they say. Respected Ministry worker too. Quite the catch for a failure like Weasley."

"Won't be much longer before she realizes what she married, if she hasn't already," Crenshaw predicted. "Smart woman like that, she'll figure out where the money's going eventually."

"And when she does?" Maltby grinned nastily. "When she tries to leave him?"

"Well," Thornfield said thoughtfully, "I imagine she'll discover that marital debt is quite binding. Legally speaking."

The men around the table leaned in, their expressions hungry.

"She'll probably try to negotiate," the thin man said. "Offer to pay his debts herself, maybe work out some kind of payment plan."

"Oh, we'll work out a payment plan," Thornfield agreed. "Though it might not be the kind she has in mind."

"Always wondered what it would be like," Crenshaw mused, "to take down one of those Ministry types. They walk around with their noses in the air, thinking they're better than everyone else."

"Weasley especially," Maltby added. "Little mudblood princess, acting like she owns the world just because she memorized a few textbooks."

"Bet she wouldn't be so high and mighty on her knees," the thin man said with a cruel laugh.

The table erupted in lewd laughter and increasingly crude suggestions. Each man tried to outdo the others with increasingly graphic descriptions of what they'd do to the famous Hermione Weasley née Granger when she inevitably became their property.

"Course, we'd have to break that spirit of hers first," Crenshaw was saying. "Can't have her thinking she's still in charge."

"Oh, I'd enjoy that part," Maltby replied. "Taking my time, making sure she understands exactly how things work now."

"And that husband of hers," the thin man added, "he'd probably just sit there and watch. Wouldn't even try to stop us."

More laughter ensured, and so did more detailed planning of Hermione's humiliation. The conversation grew darker, filthier, as each man contributed his own twisted fantasies.

Crenshaw, emboldened by drink and the group's energy, decided to push further.

"Hell, maybe we should invite Potter to watch too. Show Saint Potter what happens to his precious friends when they can't pay their debts."

The laughter died instantly.

Every head at the table turned toward Thornfield, whose face had gone completely white.

"What did you just say?" Thornfield's voice was barely above a whisper.

Crenshaw, suddenly realizing his mistake, tried to backtrack. "I just meant, you know, Potter's got all that money sitting around. Maybe he'd pay to get his friend back, or—"

The Cruciatus Curse hit him before he could finish the sentence.

Crenshaw's scream shattered the tavern's dingy atmosphere. He toppled backward off his chair, thrashing on the filthy floor as waves of agony coursed through every nerve. The other patrons scattered, chairs crashing as they fled for the exits.

Thornfield stood over Crenshaw, his wand steady but his hand shaking violently. His face was twisted not just with rage, but also with pure, primal terror.

"You stupid, worthless piece of filth!" Thornfield's voice cracked with fear and fury. "Don't you EVER speak that name!"

The curse continued. Crenshaw's screams grew hoarse before his voice gave out, and then he dissolved into whimpering gasps. His body convulsed uncontrollably, his limbs jerking at impossible angles. Foam flecked his lips, a streak of saliva sliding down his chin as he shook violently.

The other men had pressed themselves against the walls, their faces white with terror. They'd seen Thornfield angry before, but never like this. The man looked like he was having some kind of breakdown.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" Thornfield shrieked, spittle flying from his lips. "What you might have brought down on us?"

Sweat poured down his face despite the tavern's chill. His whole body was shaking now, caught in the grip of a fear so deep it bordered on madness.

"Harry Potter!" he screamed the name like a curse. "You don't say that name! You don't even THINK of mocking that man!"

He maintained the torture curse for what felt like hours but was probably only minutes. When he finally lifted his wand, Crenshaw lay motionless except for the occasional twitch and soft whimpers.

Thornfield staggered backward, wiping his face with a trembling hand. His expensive robes were soaked with sweat. He looked around the table at his terrified associates, and they could see something broken in his eyes.

"Listen to me," he said in a voice barely above a whisper. "Listen very carefully. That name is never to be spoken in my presence again. Not as a joke, not as a threat, not even in passing conversation."

He pointed his still-shaking wand at each man in turn.

"Harry Potter," he said the name like it physically hurt him, "is not someone we discuss. Not someone we plan against. Not someone we acknowledge exists. Are we clear?"

Nods all around. Even Maltby, usually the bravest of the group, looked ready to wet himself.

"Good." Thornfield holstered his wand and straightened his robes with hands that wouldn't stop shaking. "Clean up this mess. And spread the word to the rest of our organization. Anyone who has a problem with that rule can find themselves new employment."

He spat on Crenshaw's twitching form and stumbled toward the exit, pausing only to grip the doorframe for support.

"As for Weasley and his debts," he said without turning around, "we proceed as planned. The wife becomes our problem when he defaults. Which he will."

His voice dropped to something that might have been fear or anticipation.

"And when that happens, we'll show Mrs. Weasley exactly what happens to people who can't pay their debts. But we do it quietly. Carefully. And we make absolutely certain that certain other parties never find out."

He stepped out into Knockturn Alley whose depressing perpetual gloom somehow calmed his rage and fear, leaving behind the groaning, the whispered apologies, and the lingering smell of fear.

Behind him, his men slowly began to recover their composure. But none of them would forget the look in Thornfield's eyes when that name had been spoken.

Some fears ran deeper than business. And some names carried power that even the worst criminals respected.

-Break-

Hundreds of miles away, the owner of said name lay sprawled on the massive four-poster bed in the opulent suite, the soft silk sheets cool against his bare skin. He was naked, his body relaxed under the skilled hands of Bellatrix, who knelt beside him, her own nude form glistening faintly with massage oil. She worked her fingers into the knots along his shoulders, her touch firm yet devoted.

"Master," Bellatrix murmured, her voice low and husky as she pressed her thumbs into a tight spot near his neck. "You're tense here. Let me ease it for you."

Harry hummed in approval, his eyes half-lidded. The mirror shimmered, and two faces appeared—Narcissa and Pansy, both dressed in simple yet elegant robes, standing on a sun-drenched terrace that overlooked lush tropical gardens. The private island Harry had claimed as his own stretched out behind them, a paradise he'd entrusted to their care.

"Master!" Narcissa exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. She dipped into a graceful curtsy, Pansy mirroring the motion beside her. "We've been waiting for your call. It's such a joy to see you."

Pansy nodded eagerly, her dark hair tied back in a ponytail. "We've missed you terribly, Master. The island feels empty without you."

Harry smiled, propping himself up slightly on his elbows. Bellatrix adjusted seamlessly, her hands sliding down to his upper back without missing a beat. "Ladies, you both look radiant. Tell me, how's my little project coming along? I trust you've been putting in the work to make it worthy."

Narcissa straightened, pride swelling in her chest. She gestured behind her, where elves bustled in the distance, shaping manicured lawns and installing elegant fountains. "Oh, Master, we've made tremendous progress. The final touches on the main villa are nearly complete. Pansy oversaw the enchanted greenhouse you requested, stocked with rare magical plants from across the world. I dealt with the warders myself. Nothing can breach them without your permission."

Pansy beamed, stepping forward. "And the beaches, Master. We've expanded the white sands and infused the water with calming charms. No more rough waves; it's all serene now, perfect for your relaxation. We've even built a private dock for the muggle boat you wanted, with all required charms and fields to keep out intruders."

"It's called a yacht, Pansy," Narcissa added, smiling as Harry nodded, his green eyes warm with approval. Bellatrix's fingers dug deeper, eliciting a soft groan from him. She leaned in closer, her breath warm against his ear. "They've done well, Master. I can feel the tension leaving you already."

"You're right, Bella," Harry said, reaching back briefly to pat her bare thigh. "Cissa, Pansy—you've outdone yourselves. I'm proud of you both. The island sounds like it's becoming the retreat I wanted it to be. Keep it up, and I'll reward you handsomely when I arrive."

Narcissa preened, her cheeks flushing pink. She touched a hand to her chest, bowing her head. "Your praise means everything, Master. We'll redouble our efforts."

Pansy practically glowed, twisting her hands in excitement. "Thank you, Master. We live to please you."

The conversation shifted as Narcissa's expression turned more serious. She glanced at Pansy, who nodded. "Now, about the other matter you entrusted to us—the training of... Harmony."

Harry's lips curved into a smirk. He settled back down, letting Bellatrix work her way to his lower back. Her hands were strong, kneading the muscles with ease. "Ah, yes. My newest acquisition. How's she faring under your guidance? I gave explicit orders: she follows your commands without question."

Narcissa's eyes hardened, a flicker of disdain crossing her elegant features. "She's been... challenging at times, Master, but we're breaking her down. As per your instructions, we've kept her isolated in the lower quarters—no wand, no privileges. She starts each day with menial tasks: scrubbing the floors on her hands and knees, tending to the gardens under the hot sun. Pansy and I take turns overseeing her, ensuring she addresses us as 'Mistress' at all times."

Pansy chimed in, her voice laced with venom. "She hates it, Master. You can see it in her eyes—that bushy-haired traitor still thinks she's above us. But we've made her earn every meal. Yesterday, she had to beg for scraps after failing to polish the silver properly. And at night... well, we've introduced her to the obedience charms you suggested. She wears a collar now, one that tightens if she hesitates."

Bellatrix chuckled softly, her hands pausing for a moment on Harry's hips. She leaned over him, her bare breasts brushing his skin. "Sounds delightful. Tell me, sister, has the bitch cracked yet? I remember how she abandoned our Master during the war. She deserves every bit of humiliation."

Narcissa nodded vigorously. "Oh, Bella, you'd love it. We've pushed her further. Yesterday, we had her practice submission poses for hours—kneeling, head bowed, repeating mantras about her place as Master's bitch. She resisted a bit at first, but after a few sessions with the pain hexes, she's starting to comply. Pansy and I have even made her service us like we do to each other, but while we love it, she doesn't. I'm sure she feels it's just another way for us to drive home her lowered status."

Pansy's lips twisted into a satisfied grin. "Progress is slow, but noticeable. She doesn't argue as much now. Yesterday, she voluntarily licked the dirt from my boots after a walk in the mud. I think she's beginning to accept it—deep down, she knows she betrayed you, Master. We're molding her into the pliant toy you want."

Harry let out a chuckle, feeling no sympathy for his former friend. He shifted slightly, enjoying the way Bellatrix's touch lingered on him. "Excellent. I knew I could count on you two. Bella, what do you think? Should we escalate when I get there?"

Bellatrix's fingers trailed lower, massaging his thighs now. Her voice dripped with excitement. "Absolutely, Master. Make her crawl to you on arrival. Perhaps a public display in front of us all. I've got ideas—whips, chains, the works. She needs to learn true devotion."

Narcissa leaned closer to the mirror, her expression eager. "We agree, Bella. Harmony whimpers in her sleep now, calling out your name. It's progress, but she's not broken yet. We'll keep at it—degrading her until she's nothing but your loyal bitch."

Pansy added, "And we enjoy it, Master. Every tear she sheds is payback for what she did."

Harry felt Bellatrix's hands tremble slightly with anticipation, her body pressing closer to his.

As the discussion wrapped up, Narcissa's tone softened. "Master, we miss you so much. The island is ready, but it's not the same without you."

Pansy nodded, and Harry was pleasantly surprised to see her eyes misty. "Yes, Master. We ache for your touch, your commands. When will you come?"

Harry smiled, although a part of him wondered why their way of speaking to him had changed. He attributed it to their bond that was making them more pliant and truly his faithful servants.

"Soon. You've earned it. I miss you both as well—your dedication, your warmth. Hold on a little longer."

Narcissa glanced at Bellatrix through the mirror. "And Bella... I'm so excited to reunite with you after all these years. We've been apart too long, sister."

Bellatrix's hands stilled on Harry's legs. She looked up, her soft curls framing her face. "Cissy... I've missed you more than words can say. Once Master allows it, we'll be together again. Proper family, under his rule."

Harry chuckled, reaching out to stroke Bellatrix's thigh once again. "The time will come soon. Patience. Now, get back to work—make that island shine."

The mirror faded, the connection severing as Harry waved a hand, and it floated back to the nightstand. He shifted on the bed, his muscles loose from the massage, and swiftly, he grabbed Bellatrix by the waist and pulled her over him. She yelped in excitement, her naked, oil-slicked body landing atop his, skin sliding against skin.

"Master!" she gasped, her eyes wide with delight. She straddled him instinctively, her hands roaming his chest.

Harry grinned up at her, his hands gripping her hips. "You were squirming the whole time they talked about Harmony. I know how excited that got you, my sadistic little girl."

Bellatrix bit her lip, grinding slightly against his hard-on. "Guilty, Master. Hearing about that traitor's degradation... it stirs something in me. I live for breaking them, for you."

He trailed his fingers up her sides, teasing the curve of her breasts. "That's my Bella. Always eager for the dark side."

She leaned down, her lips brushing his ear. "Let me show you how eager, Master." Her hands wandered lower, bold and hungry.

The moment her fingers wrapped around the girth of his cock, Harry leaned up and captured her mouth in a fierce kiss, his body responding to her heat.

His tongue invaded her mouth with possessive hunger, tasting the faint sweetness of the wine they'd shared earlier. She moaned into the kiss, her body arching as she pressed her slick heat against his hardening length.

No more teasing—Harry flipped them over, pinning her beneath him on the silk sheets. Her curls fanned out like a dark halo, her eyes blazing with feral desire as she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

"Take me, Master," she whispered breathlessly, her nails raking down his back, leaving red trails that only fueled his fire. "Claim your bitch."

He growled low in his throat, one hand fisting in her hair to yank her head back, exposing the pale column of her throat. His teeth grazed her pulse point, biting down just hard enough to make her gasp and buck against him.

Bellatrix's hands roamed greedily, one sliding between them to grasp his cock again, stroking him with urgency. She was dripping already, her arousal coating his thighs as she ground against him, desperate for friction.

Without warning, Harry thrust into her in one powerful stroke, burying himself to the hilt. Bellatrix cried out, her walls clenching around him like a vice, her body trembling from the sudden fullness.

"Yes! Master, fuck me hard!" she begged, her voice a ragged plea mixed with ecstasy.

He didn't hold back. His hips snapped forward relentlessly, pounding into her with a rhythm that was brutal and unyielding. The bed creaked under their weight, the four-poster frame shaking as Harry claimed her completely. Bellatrix met every thrust with equal fervor, her hips rising to slam against his, her breasts bouncing with each impact. She clawed at his shoulders, drawing blood, but the pain only spurred him on.

"More," she panted, her eyes locked on his, wild and adoring. "Break me, own me—I'm yours!"

Harry's free hand roamed her body, pinching her nipples until they hardened into peaks, twisting them just to hear her whimper. She arched off the bed, her moans turning into screams of pleasure as he angled his thrusts to hit that spot deep inside her. Sweat slicked their skin, the scent of massage oil and sex filling the air. Bellatrix's legs tightened around him, her heels digging into his ass, urging him deeper.

He released her hair to grip her throat, applying just enough pressure to make her gasp, her eyes fluttering in submissive bliss. "Who do you belong to, Bella?" he demanded, his voice rough as he slowed his pace momentarily, teasing her with shallow thrusts.

"You, Master! Only you!" she choked out, her hands flying to his wrist, not to pull away but to hold him there, reveling in the control. Harry rewarded her with a savage thrust, picking up speed again, fucking her into the mattress with wild abandon. The room echoed with the wet slap of skin on skin, her cries growing louder, more desperate.

Bellatrix's hand slipped between them, her fingers circling her clit frantically as she chased her release.

"Please, Master—let me come for you," she pleaded.

"Not yet," Harry snarled, batting her hand away and replacing it with his own. He rubbed her swollen nub in rough circles, matching the pace of his hips. She thrashed beneath him, her head tossing side to side, incoherent words spilling from her lips—praises, begs, curses—all for him.

He leaned down, capturing a nipple in his mouth, sucking hard while his teeth grazed the sensitive flesh. Bellatrix keened, her nails digging deeper into his back. "Master, I can't—oh Master, yes!"

Her body shuddered, on the edge, but she held back, obedient even in her frenzy.

Harry flipped her onto her stomach without pulling out, yanking her hips up so she was on all fours. He slammed back in, the new angle allowing him to go even deeper. Bellatrix buried her face in the pillows, muffling her screams as he gripped her hips bruisingly, pulling her back onto his cock with each thrust.

"Look at you," he growled, slapping her ass hard enough to leave a red handprint. "My perfect slut, taking it all."

She pushed back against him, eager and unashamed, her body glistening with sweat. "Harder, Master! Mark me!"

Another slap, then another, the sting making her clench around him tighter. Harry's hand tangled in her hair again, pulling her head back so he could see her face—flushed, lips parted, and eyes glazed with lust.

He reached around, his fingers finding her clit once more, pinching and rolling it as he fucked her mercilessly. Bellatrix's arms gave out, her upper body collapsing onto the bed, but her ass stayed high, presented for him.

"I'm yours—fuck, Master, I'm coming!" she wailed, unable to hold back any longer.

"Come for me, Bella," Harry commanded, his own release building as her walls fluttered and spasmed around him. She shattered with a scream, her body convulsing, juices soaking the sheets beneath them. The sight and feel of her undone pushed him over the edge. With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside her, spilling hot and thick, claiming her utterly.

But they weren't done. Bellatrix, still trembling from her orgasm, somehow managed to find the strength and twisted around, pushing Harry onto his back. She straddled him again, her hands on his chest as she sank down onto his still-hard cock.

"Let me ride you, Master," she purred, her voice husky from screaming. She rolled her hips in slow, teasing circles at first, grinding down to take him fully.

Harry groaned, his hands gripping her thighs as she picked up speed, bouncing on him with wild energy. Her breasts swayed hypnotically, and he sat up to capture one in his mouth, sucking and biting while she rode him like a woman possessed. Bellatrix's head fell back, her moans filling the room as she chased another peak. "You feel so good inside me—fill me again, Master!"

He thrust up to meet her, their bodies slapping together in a frenzied rhythm. One hand slid to her ass, a finger teasing her tight rear entrance, pushing in just enough to make her gasp and ride harder.

"Yes! Use me everywhere!" she cried, her movements becoming erratic.

Harry flipped them once more, this time pressing her legs up to her chest, folding her in half as he drove into her with renewed vigor. The position let him hit impossibly deep, and Bellatrix's eyes rolled back, her hands clutching the sheets. "Master—too much—don't stop!"

They kept at it for hours, and orgasm after orgasm ripped through her, her body a quivering mess, but she repeatedly begged for more, her devotion absolute.

He pulled out briefly, only to flip her onto her side, spooning behind her as he re-entered. His arm wrapped around her, one hand cupping and squeezing her breast while the other hand drifted between her legs to stroke her clit while he thrust lazily at first, building back to frenzy. Bellatrix turned her head, their lips meeting in sloppy, heated kisses.

"I love you, Master," she whispered between gasps, her body melting into his.

Harry's pace quickened, his hand pinching her nipples, then sliding up to her throat again. "And I own you," he replied, squeezing just right. She came again, her cries muffled against his arm, and he followed soon after, pumping into her until they both collapsed, spent and entangled.

They lay there, their breaths ragged and their bodies slick and satisfied. Bellatrix curled into him, her head on his chest, fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin.

"Thank you, Master," she murmured, sleepy, spent, and utterly content.

Harry stroked her hair, his mind drifting as the afterglow settled. His lovely servants—Bellatrix here in his arms, Narcissa and Pansy laboring faithfully on the island, his indecision regarding Gabrielle, the delicate approach he'd need with Fleur and Lavender, his lovely colleagues in Susan and Nym, and even the breaking of Harmony—all pieces in his grand design.

Tomorrow, the French Riviera awaited, where his next conquest would begin: a certain pair of absconding witches who'd caught his eye, ripe for claiming, and if Narcissa was to be believed, one could be worth becoming something more.

A public face, to stand beside him as his partner, but also his faithful, to forever serve him.

The empire would grow, one submission at a time.

TBC.

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Chapter Text

The Mediterranean sun beat down mercilessly on the pristine beaches of Cannes, painting everything in shades of gold and azure. Harry adjusted his designer sunglasses and took another sip of his mojito, letting the cool mint and rum wash away the lingering taste of the morning's croissant. Three days in the French Riviera had been exactly what he needed after dealing with wizarding politics in the ICW Conference and privately with Gabrielle.

From his spot on the terrace of the Hotel Martinez, he had an unobstructed view of the Croisette. Couples strolled hand in hand along the palm-lined boulevard while street performers entertained clusters of tourists. The whole scene screamed wealth and leisure, a far cry from the war-torn land it would've become had Voldemort won.

'And yet not a word of thanks from these lot,' he thought with a sneer.

"Excusez-moi, monsieur," a sultry voice interrupted his thoughts.

Harry glanced up to find a striking brunette standing beside his table. She wore a flowing white sundress that accentuated her tanned skin, and her dark hair cascaded over one shoulder in carefully arranged waves. Everything about her screamed sultriness, from her red lipstick to the way she stood confidently in front of him, an inviting smile on her pretty face.

"Yes?"

"Oh, l'anglais. D'accord. You are sitting alone on such a beautiful day," she continued in accented English. "Per'aps you would like some company?"

Before Harry could respond, she'd already slid into the chair across from him, crossing her long legs slowly under the table. Her fingers traced the rim of his glass as she leaned forward, giving him an excellent view down her cleavage.

'Well, she's got a nice set, I'll give her that,' Harry thought.

"I am Isabelle," she purred in that sexy accent. "And you look like a man who knows 'ow to show a woman a good time."

Harry couldn't help but be amused by her directness. In his experience, French women had a certain flair for the dramatic that he always found refreshing after dealing with uptight British purebloods for so long.

"Harry," he replied, raising his glass in a mock toast. "And I'm not sure what gave you that impression."

Isabelle let out a throaty laugh that drew appreciative glances from nearby tables. "Call eet feminine intuition. Plus, you 'ave been sitting 'ere for two 'ours watching everyone else 'ave fun. A man like you should not be alone in a place like zis."

Well, she had a point. The Riviera was designed for pleasure, for living in the moment and indulging in life's finer things. He'd mostly spent his days here relaxing and trying to get some intel, but mostly relaxing. Enjoying himself in the pleasures this place had to offer had taken a backseat.

He gave her a once over, seeing how her eyes lit up at the attention he gave her. Maybe it was time he indulged himself a bit. It'd been a few days since he'd gotten some action, after all.

"Well then, mademoiselle. What did you have in mind?" he asked, leaning forward and matching her daring.

Isabelle's eyes lit up with mischief. "Zere's a yacht party tonight. Very exclusive, very..." she paused, searching for the right word, "liberating. Ze kind of party where anyzing can 'appen. And I mean anyzing."

She leaned back in her chair, letting her dress ride up slightly as she stretched like a cat in the sun. Everything about her movements was calculated to entice, from the way she bit her lower lip to how she played with the delicate gold chain around her neck. However, his eyes and those of every other onlooker were fixated on her large tits straining against the white fabric. This one was a seductress, and she knew how to play.

"I could get you an invitation," she continued, smirking, and her feet darted out, her toes tracing sensual patterns on his legs. Harry gave her an amused look.

"Is that so?"

"Oui," she said sensually. "Believe me, you will not regret your time zere."

Harry stared at her for a long moment. She was beautiful, confident, and clearly interested. She struck him as someone who knew she was sexy enough to get any man who caught her fancy.

"Well, I didn't have anything planned for the night. Eh, why not?"

"Magnifique!" She beamed, before adding teasingly, "but I would expect you to be a proper gentleman and escort moi."

"Any dress code I should know about?"

Isabelle stared at him meaningfully, looking him up and down in tandem with how her toes moved on his legs. She stood gracefully, smoothing down her dress.

"Make sure eet is easy to take off," she said finally, a look of pure lust in her eyes. "I will meet you at ze Carlton bar at midnight. Au revoir, 'Arry."

She sauntered away with an exaggerated sway of her hips, clearly putting on a show for his pleasure and Harry allowed himself to drink in the sight like several others around him. As she rounded the corner, but not before throwing him a meaningful wink over her shoulder, Harry shook his head with amusement and returned his attention to his drink.

The rest of the afternoon wore on pleasantly enough. He moved from the hotel terrace to a beach club in Juan-les-Pins, where the atmosphere was more relaxed and the crowd younger. College students from across Europe mixed with trust fund kids and yacht crew members on their days off. The music was louder, the drinks stronger, and the conversation more carefree.

Harry found himself at the bar beside two blonde women who were clearly sisters, judging by their identical blue eyes and matching dolphin tattoos. They spoke in rapid Swedish between themselves before the taller one turned to him with a bright smile.

"You are English, yes?" she asked. "We heard you ordering. I am Valentina, and this is my sister Nadia."

Nadia giggled and waved, clearly several drinks ahead of her sister. Her bikini top was barely containing what it was supposed to, and she seemed completely oblivious to the attention she was drawing from every male within a fifty-foot radius.

"Guilty as charged," Harry replied. "Harry."

"We are backpacking across Europe," Valentina explained. "This is our first time in France. Is it always so... how do you say... intoxicating?"

She gestured around at the scene before them. Half-naked bodies lounged on pristine white furniture while servers in skimpy bikinis delivered overpriced cocktails with picture-perfect smiles. The Mediterranean stretched endlessly toward the horizon, its surface broken only by the occasional yacht or jet ski.

"Only if you let it be," Harry said as he took a sip of his drink. "Though I'll say, there's some fun in that."

Valentina nodded with a grin when Nadia suddenly perked up, grabbing her sister's arm excitedly. "Valentina! The cute bartender is looking at you again!"

Sure enough, the dark-haired bartender was stealing glances at Valentina while mixing drinks. He was all Mediterranean good looks and charm, probably used to having his pick of the international tourists who flowed through the beach clubs.

"You should go talk to him," Harry suggested with a grin. "Life's too short not to flirt with attractive bartenders in exotic locations."

Valentina blushed prettily. "You think so?"

"Absolutely. Just remember to pace yourself with the drinks."

The sisters exchanged a look before Valentina straightened her shoulders and marched toward the bar with newfound determination. Nadia stumbled after her, leaving Harry alone once again.

He finished his drink and decided to take a walk along the beach. The sand was still warm beneath his feet despite the late afternoon hour. Beach volleyball games were wrapping up while couples claimed prime spots to watch the sunset. Street artists hawked their wares to passing tourists, and the smell of grilled seafood drifted from the beachside restaurants.

As he walked, Harry's mind drifted back to his real purpose for being here. Finding the Greengrass sisters had not been easy so far. They had hidden themselves very well, refraining from using magic in any sense. Perhaps that was the reason why Vinda Rosier and her henchmen had not found them either. They must be finding it much more challenging than him, given the fact that they had little knowledge of the muggle world.

The French Riviera was a big place, stretching from Saint-Tropez to Monaco, with dozens of cities and towns in between. They could be anywhere.

His contemplation was interrupted by a light cough from behind him. He turned to find a middle-aged man with kind eyes and graying temples standing there. The man wore the crisp white uniform of hotel staff, with a name tag that read "Philippe" in elegant script.

"Monsieur?" the man asked in heavily accented English. "I am sorry to disturb your evening walk."

Harry's stance was relaxed, but he was ready to draw his concealed wand at a moment's notice. However, Philippe's demeanor was completely unthreatening. Still, it was odd for hotel staff to approach guests on the beach.

"Yes? Can I help you?"

Philippe smiled and shook his head. "Non, non, Monsieur. I am from ze 'Ermitage in Monaco. Your... friend... he suggested I might find you here."

The friend could only be Jonathan. He was a muggle Bella had tasked right when he'd arrived in France with finding information on where the Greengrass sisters could be. Harry kept his expression neutral, but internally he was very impressed. She'd done well for herself here in France, having contacts everywhere, even in the muggle world.

It made him wonder what would happen when she returned with him to Britain. The affairs in France would surely take a hit, no matter how easy and quick it was to travel to and from the country. However, it was something they could think about later.

"I see," Harry said carefully. "And what can I do for you, Philippe?"

The older man glanced around to ensure they weren't being overheard before continuing, "Ze monsieur, he thought you might be interested in attending ze Grand Prix zis weekend. Monaco, it is very exciting zis time of year."

"I'm sure it is."

"Oui, but ze best experience, eet is not where everyone thinks. Ze grandstands, they are crowded, expensive. But if you sit at ze Rascasse corner, section B, you will see ze last lap drama. Eet is ze end of ze circuit, so if zere's a late-race showdown, you will see eet. Ze crashes, ze overtakes, ze real drama of ze race. Ze monsieur recommends eet."

'Talk about being oddly specific,' Harry thought as he nodded. "That's very helpful. Thank you. I'll definitely look into it."

Philippe smiled warmly and extended his hand. "Magnifique! I hope you enjoy ze rest of your stay in our beautiful region. And if you do visit Monaco, perhaps we will see you at ze 'Ermitage."

They shook hands, and Philippe melted back into the crowd of evening beachgoers as smoothly as he'd appeared. Harry had to admire the man's professionalism. To any observer, they'd simply looked like a hotel employee offering tourist recommendations to a guest.

Harry continued his walk, but his mind was now focused. Monaco Grand Prix, Rascasse corner, section B. A couple more days to go, but for tonight, he had a yacht party to look forward to and a hot French beauty to enjoy.

-Break-

Harry adjusted his black silk shirt, leaving the top two buttons undone as he waited near the Carlton. He'd taken Isabelle's advice to heart. The clothes were easy to take off.

At exactly midnight, she appeared.

Isabelle had traded her afternoon sundress for something that could barely be called a dress at all. The midnight blue fabric clung to every curve, held up by the thinnest of straps and ending well above mid-thigh. Her cleavage was on display, her dark hair was swept up in an elegant chignon that exposed the graceful line of her neck, and her lips were painted the color of fresh blood. She looked like a woman out to murder.

"Bonsoir, 'Arry," she purred, sliding up to him gracefully. "You clean up very nicely."

Her hand found his chest immediately, fingers tracing the edge of his shirt's opening. The touch was electric on his skin, intended to make his pulse quicken.

"Would need help taking care of the bodies you leave behind looking like that," he replied, letting his eyes travel appreciatively over her form. "I have to ask though. Is there actually a dress under all that confidence?"

She let out a melodious laugh.

"Per'aps you will find out later, non?" She said suggestively, and her hand slid down to his belt, fingers hooking briefly as she gazed at him with lust before trailing away. "But first, ze party. Are you ready for a night you will never forget?"

"Lead the way."

The yacht was a floating palace, easily two hundred feet of gleaming white luxury anchored in the bay. Music pounded from multiple decks while colored lights danced across the water. Even from the tender that ferried them out, Harry could see the party was already in full swing.

Isabelle pressed against him as they climbed aboard, her curvaceous body warm and enticing against his side.

"Zis is ze Paradis," she murmured in his ear. "Tonight, she lives up to 'er name."

The main deck was a writhing mass of beautiful people in expensive clothes that were rapidly becoming fewer and more revealing. Champagne flowed freely while a DJ spun music that seemed to pulse through the very boards of the ship. Bodies moved together in ways that would have been scandalous in polite society, but here, under the stars and far from shore, different rules applied.

"Drink?" Isabelle asked, but she was already pressing a crystal flute into his hand. The champagne was perfect, crisp and cold with just the right amount of bubbles. But Harry noticed she didn't take one herself.

"Not drinking?"

"Later, per'aps. First, I want to dance."

Harry shrugged as he chugged the champagne down, and she pulled him into the crowd. In no time, they were moving together to the hypnotic beat.

Isabelle's body rolled against his, her hands roaming freely over his chest and shoulders before they wound up around his neck as she pressed herself flush against him. Harry smirked down at her and grabbed her lower back, his fingers teasing the small opening that revealed her bare skin there, and he rolled his fingers over it, pulling her close.

All she did was smirk up at him as she rubbed her body all over his front. There was no hesitation on her part, and Harry decided to up the ante. His hands drifted lower and he boldly grabbed two handfuls of her rear, making her hiss. The sound was drowned by the music, however, but the lust in her eyes increased.

Harry smirked as he slammed her against his hard-on, and her arms around his neck tightened. She leaned forward, burying her face in the crook of neck and began to suck on his skin while he kneaded her supple ass cheeks over her thin dress. All the while, Isabelle rubbed herself against his erection.

Other couples around them were doing much the same, the boundaries of public propriety dissolving in the debauchery of the night.

"Harry?"

His hands paused, and Isabelle leaned back with a small frown. Harry turned his head to find Valentina approaching, looking stunning in a short red dress that hugged her curvy frame. The bartender from the beach club was right behind her, his arm possessively around her waist.

"Valentina! Fancy meeting you here."

"I know, right? Marco here got us invitations." She gestured to her companion, who nodded with a confident smile. He looked completely in his element, and Harry gave him an amused look. "This is incredible. Nadia's around somewhere. Probably getting into trouble as usual."

Isabelle's grip on Harry's shoulders tightened almost imperceptibly as she shifted closer. "You know zese people?" She asked with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Met them this afternoon at the beach club. Valentina, Isabelle. Isabelle, Valentina."

Harry looked on in amusement as the two women sized each other up without being the slightest bit subtle about it. Valentina's gaze lingered on how closely Isabelle was pressed against Harry, while Isabelle seemed to be cataloguing every detail of the younger woman's appearance.

"Well, we should let you get back to your evening," Marco said with a grin. "Come on, Tina. I think I saw your sister by the upper deck bar."

As they melted back into the crowd, Isabelle firmly pulled Harry closer, practically fusing their bodies aggressively. "Small world, non?" she said, but there was something sharp in her voice now. Harry gave her an amused look.

The party grew wilder as the night wore on. The music shifted to something more primal, more intense, and the dancing became more of an exhibition for some. Harry found himself pressed against Isabelle as bodies moved around them like ocean waves. Her hands were everywhere now—trailing down his spine, gripping his shoulders, fingers tangling briefly in his hair. And so were his, caressing her curves, kneading her rear, stroking her sides, and she even sported a visible mark on her neck where he'd sucked harshly just a minute ago.

"You are very... responsive," she whispered against his neck where she'd been nibbling, her breath hot on his skin. "I like zat in a man."

Her lips found the sensitive spot just below his ear, and he let out a soft groan of pleasure. She smiled against his skin, clearly pleased with his reaction.

"The night is still young, 'Arry. Would you like to see ze rest of ze yacht?"

"Show me."

She led him through the crowd, past couples who had given up any pretense of propriety. Dozens of bodies were tangled in a mess of naked flesh, hands and lips moving all over. The lower decks were quieter but no less filled with sexual energy. Isabelle was pressed against his side, her arms wrapped around his and her hand warm as she traced circles on his palm.

They found a stateroom near the stern, elegantly filled with soft lighting. The moment the door closed behind them, Isabelle was on him, her mouth hot and demanding against his.

Her hands worked frantically at his shirt buttons while his found the zipper of her dress.

As she threw his shirt away, Harry grabbed her dress and pulled it over her head, letting it join his shirt.

"Fuck, you're hot," he breathed, grabbing hold of both her tits and clamping his mouth over her nipple, sucking hard. Isabelle giggled, pulling him closer by the hair as Harry mauled her tits, feasting eagerly. He was eager, and he was harsh, but she loved the treatment, her moans encouraging him to keep at it.

Harry alternated between her tits, sucking and nibbling on her nipples before gently biting and pulling on them. His hands reached down to feel the wetness between her legs and he was not disappointed when he found her dripping already.

"Good thing you decided to wear something that's easy to take off," Harry murmured against her neck, clamping his lips on her soft skin and sucking hard. Isabelle moaned hotly, her hands roaming all over his bare back before she reached down, palming his hard cock over his trousers. Her fingers made a quick work of his belt and in no time, he stood naked before her.

Isabelle stepped back and took a moment to stare at him, and the lust in her eyes skyrocketed. Harry walked toward her briskly and grabbed her hair in a fist, slamming his lips against hers once again, swallowing her moans. He grabbed her tits once again, fondling them to his heart's content, and Isabelle was confident that they would be decorated with marks by the time he was done. His fingers once again slipped between her legs and she parted them wide, eagerly pressing into his touch as he inserted two of his digits inside her.

Without wasting even a moment, he began to pump his fingers in and out, his thumb clamping on her clit and rubbing simultaneously. Isabelle's moans were uncontrollable as she reveled in the pleasure coursing through her body, and her hand automatically wrapped around his cock, pumping hard and fast.

Harry seemed to have decided they'd spent enough time getting each other worked up. He lifted her in his arms, making her yelp, and unceremoniously threw her on the bed. Isabelle bounced, giggling madly at the way he was handling her, and slid back, sitting against the headrest. She gave him a look full of lust and slowly spread her legs wide, one finger drifting down to tease her inflamed and dripping pussy while the other beckoned him toward her.

He pounced, grabbing her thighs roughly and dragging her toward him. He straightened her right leg so that it was dangling vertically before he rested it against his shoulder. He held it against himself and grabbed his length, pressing hotly against her entrance.

"You want it?" He growled, making her breath hitch.

"Give it to me," she grinned.

Harry smirked and rubbed the head all over her folds, coating it with her love juices and teasing her. She moaned and writhed under him, before crying out in pleasure as he thrust hard into her sweltering depths, burying himself to the hilt inside her with a wet clap.

He set the pace of their fucking, entirely on his terms, using her like her body belonged to him. He hammered away into her gushing pussy like he owned it.

He pressed her firmly into the bed, pushing forward until her knee was pressing into her breast. She was mighty flexible, bending so wonderfully for him, and Harry took full advantage, grabbing her other breast roughly as he kissed her.

Isabelle moaned hotly, loving the way he was thrusting into her with wild abandon as he mauled her breast and played with her nipple, pinching and rolling it around. She kissed him hard, their tongues battling for domination inside her mouth. She could already feel her climax building rapidly and she tapped his shoulder twice.

Harry pulled back and looked at her questioningly, making her smirk.

"I want to be on top now."

His lips curved upward and he nodded, but he didn't pull out of her. Instead, he allowed her to move her right leg away from his body before rolling them around so that she was now straddling him. His cock plunged deep into her and Isabelle sighed in pleasure, allowing herself to enjoy the sensation of it lodged deep inside her.

With a wild grin, she began to move, her hands tangled in her hair as she bounced on his cock, moaning filthily. The sight was heavenly from Harry's perspective, and he watched those large tits, covered in marks from both his hands and his mouth flopping about wildly, slamming against each other.

He allowed her to dictate the pace for a little while before deciding to get involved once again. He reached over and grabbed two handfuls of her supple rear, and Isabelle dropped over his body with a grin, her hands coming to hold onto his shoulders and her breath hot against his mouth.

The moment she slammed her lips against his, Harry planted his feet on the bed and began to mercilessly thrust upward inside her. Isabelle pulled away from the kiss abruptly, letting out a loud wail of pleasure as she felt him push past her cervix.

Harry was treated to the sight of her large tits bouncing just above his face, and he clamped his mouth around one of her hard nipples once again. He kept a firm grasp on her round globes as he kept pounding his entire length inside her pussy.

Isabelle started to shake on top of him, and the moment her inner walls tightened around his member, Harry knew. He held her tightly to himself as she wailed, her climax crashing through her, drowning her in waves of pure pleasure that left her shaking. Her mouth clamped on his shoulder and she bit hard, sending a stinging pain through him.

He grabbed her hair roughly and pulled her mouth to his in a searing kiss, tasting blood on her lips. His blood.

Isabelle kept shaking on top of him as Harry slowly stilled, her breathing heavy and labored as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. His hands lay at his sides as he heaved deep breaths, and Isabelle smiled to herself, peppering his neck with featherlight kisses and soft licks.

A few minutes passed in relative silence, broken only by her breathing that slowly returned to normal. He had truly fucked the living daylights out of her, and Isabelle knew it was the best fuck of her life. She leaned back, still lying on top of him, her hands on either side of his body as she stared at him.

Harry lay completely still under her, his manhood having already softened and slithered out of her well-fucked hole. Her orgasmic juices kept dripping out of her, but she paid no heed to anything else but him.

His chest rose and fell slowly, and his face had gone pale and slack. A satisfied smile curved her lips, and Isabelle stretched like a satisfied cat before sliding gracefully off him. Her naked form moved with predatory grace as climbed off the bed and bent over, picking up her small dress.

"Ah, mon pauvre 'Arry," she sighed, though there was no real sadness in her voice. "Such a shame zat zis 'ad to end so soon. You really were magnifique in bed. Ze best lover I've ever had."

She pulled out a small chunk of metal from somewhere inside her dress, and there was a rune inscribed on it emitting a soft blue glow.

"But business is business, non? And ze Widow pays very, very well for jobs like zis. And zis was you. I won't 'ave to work a day in my life now, you know? Merci beaucoup, mon chéri. I almost regret 'aving to kill you."

Harry's breathing became more labored, a thin line of foam appearing at the corner of his mouth. Isabelle touched herself between the legs, feeling her release dripping down her legs. Smirking, she coated her fingers with her juices and leaned over him, smearing the fluids on his lips.

"Zis is ze least you deserve after giving me so much pleasure. Ze first poison in your champagne, it made you so... 'ow you say... eager? So willing to come with me, to trust me. And ze second..." she gestured to a small puncture mark on his shoulder where she'd stung him at the end, barely visible beneath the small streak of blood. "Ze second is much more permanent. Zey will find you in ze morning, anozzer rich tourist who partied too 'ard and 'ad a 'eart attack during sex. Zese things, zey 'appen all ze time."

She gently caressed his cheek, feeling his rapidly cooling skin under her touch, her face full of remorse. "You know, if circumstances were different, I might 'ave kept you around. Such a beautiful body, such skill... But ze Widow, she wants ze great 'Arry Potter dead, and I couldn't deny, could I? It is ze 'Arry Potter! I get to be ze one to claim zat prize!"

Harry's eyes fluttered open briefly, unfocused and glassy. "I... I can't..."

"Shh, mon chéri. Do not fight eet. Ze end, it comes for all of us eventually. At least you got to spend your last night in paradise with a woman who appreciated your... talents. You gave me so much pleasure. And I'm not just saying zat. I really loved ze zings you did to me, you know?"

She smiled lovingly, caressing his cheek one last time before making her way over to the large mirror. She stood there, taking in the state of her body with fascination. Her tits bore marks of both his hands and his mouth, her neck had multiple hickeys spread all over, and there was such a pleasurable tingle between her legs even now. She was still dripping, still aching for more of him. Alas…

Harry's apparent death throes continued behind her.

"Ze others, zey will be so jealous. Zey always said ze famous Boy Who Lived would be impossible to kill. But 'ere you are, brought low by a woman's kiss and a drop of poison. C'est ironique, non?"

Harry's movements stilled completely, and Isabelle stared at his reflection in the mirror. She waited a full minute, watching for any sign of life, before nodding with satisfaction. Satisfied, she put the small dress on and moved over to the door, already counting the galleons that'd soon live happily in her vault.

"Au revoir, 'Arry Potter," she whispered, her hand on the door handle. "It 'as been—"

"Actually," came a perfectly clear voice from the bed, "it's been quite educational. And fun."

Her eyes shot open, and Isabelle spun around to find Harry sitting up, very much alive and looking remarkably healthy for a man who should have been dead twice over. The foam was gone from his mouth, replaced by an amused smirk. He licked off her orgasmic fluids almost mockingly, and she stood frozen in disbelief.

"Though I have to say, your acting needs work. All that purring and cooing… it was a bit much, don't you think?"

"Impossible," she breathed, shakily backing toward the door. "Ze poison—"

"Oh, I felt it. Both of them, actually. Nice work on the timing, by the way. Most people would have gotten impatient and used the lethal dose first, but you showed real artistry." Harry swung his legs out of bed, completely unbothered by his nudity. "The problem is, I'm immune to poisons. All of them. Phoenix tears in the blood. Long story, but the short version is that your little Black Widow trick doesn't work on me."

"You... you knew?"

"From the moment you sat down at my table this afternoon. Did you really think I wouldn't recognize an assassination attempt? I've had a lot of practice." He slowly began moving toward her with the grace of a predator stalking its prey.

"But I let things play out. Why, you might think," he smirked when he saw her gulp involuntarily. "Well, it's really simple. I was bored."

"B-Bored?"

"Yeah. This has been much more fun," Harry stopped. "Now, for you, the real question is whether you're going to make this easy or difficult."

Isabelle answered by touching the rune on her device, and immediately Harry felt the familiar tingle of anti-apparition wards slamming into place around them. Anti-portkey charms followed, along with a dozen other containment spells designed to prevent magical escape.

Instead of looking concerned, Harry's grin turned feral.

"Really? You think trapping me here is going to help?" He let out a low laugh, and Isabelle shuddered at the sheer level of danger she could feel. "Oh, you poor, deluded little assassin. You have no idea what you've just done, do you?"

Isabelle had her wand out now, backing toward the door as Harry continued to advance. "Stay back! I'll—"

"You'll what? Curse me? Please, by all means, try."

Her hand shaking, she fired a stunner at him.

"Really?" Harry said, almost disappointed as he casually batted it aside with his bare hand, the red light dissipating harmlessly in the air. Isabelle's eyes widened at the casual display. A cutting curse followed, then a bone-breaker, and then the Killing Curse itself. Harry dealt with each one effortlessly, conjuring a shield from thin air, simply deflecting the spell with wandless magic, or leaning out of the way.

"You know what the difference is between you and me?" he asked conversationally, still stalking toward her. "You think magic requires a wand. I think magic requires intent."

Isabelle flung another Killing Curse toward him. Harry sighed and conjured a small rock that exploded into gray powder, nullifying the green light completely. "Careful now. Keep throwing those around and we might damage the yacht. These people paid good money for their floating bordello. Be a shame to sink it because you couldn't accept defeat gracefully."

Isabelle's face had gone white with terror. This wasn't supposed to happen. Harry Potter was supposed to be dead, not advancing on her like some unstoppable force of nature while casually blocking or swerving around Unforgivables.

She fired one more desperate curse before throwing up a wall of thick, choking smoke and bolting for the door.

Harry made no move to follow her immediately. Instead, he stretched and summoned his clothes.

"Run along then," he called out cheerfully. "But don't go too far. We're not finished yet."

TBC.

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Chapter Text

On the upper deck of the yacht, Valentina was pressed against Marco in a shadowed alcove, their mouths locked together in a heated kiss. The bartender's hands roamed freely over her body while she tangled her fingers in his dark hair, rubbing herself furiously against him.

Suddenly, she felt something hot against her chest.

She pulled back from Marco, breathing hard. "One moment, amore," she murmured, pulling out the pendant from between her tits. What she saw made her blood run cold.

"What is it, Tina?" Marco asked, his words slightly slurred from champagne and arousal.

"Nothing important," Valentina said softly, before she pressed a small needle into his neck. "Just business."

Marco's eyes rolled back and he slumped forward, unconscious. Valentina caught him and lowered him gently to the deck before hurrying away.

She found Nadia by the stern rail, apparently admiring the view of the coastline. "We have a problem," she said quietly.

Nadia turned, and the vapid party girl persona she'd been wearing all day vanished completely. "How bad?"

"Code black. Isabelle's blown and Potter's still alive. She's fleeing."

They shared a look of concern. This was the scenario they'd hoped never to encounter—their target not only surviving the assassination attempt but potentially turning hunter instead of prey. Their eyes darted around, taking in the crowd, mostly naked and passed out but a few stirred, completely delirious.

"The wards?" Nadia asked.

"Still holding for now, but..."

They were already moving toward the stairs leading to the lower decks when Isabelle burst through the door, wild-eyed with panic, her dress sloppily hanging over her body.

"He's alive!" she gasped. "The Manticore venom did nothing. Nothing!"

Before either sister could respond, Harry appeared in the doorway behind her. He'd taken the time to put on his pants but remained shirtless, moving like an apex predator in its element. His green eyes seemed to glow in the dim lighting as he stared at them.

"Ladies," he said pleasantly.

All three women raised their wands, but Harry was faster. The anti-travel wards around the yacht shattered like glass, and the sheer magical backlash sent both sisters and Isabelle staggering backward. Immediately, new wards went up, stronger and more terrifying than whatever Isabelle had put up.

The three women collided against the walls of the yacht, barely standing and looking even more terrified.

"That's better," Harry said, rolling his shoulders.

They slowly caught their footing, the magical backlash having affected them more than either would've thought. Hands shaking, they brought their wands up and pointed at him.

"Come on, you really want to do it this way?" Harry asked with a sigh.

"Bombarda!" Nadia shouted. A powerful blast careened toward Harry who clicked his tongue in annoyance. He gave his wand a flick and a massive swirling vortex emerged out of thin air, absorbing the blast completely.

They stared at him in shock for a moment before Valentina whirled around, grabbing her sister's hand.

"You idiot! You would've killed all these other people in here too! We're assassins, not bullheaded idiots! We don't do things like this! Only the target, no unnecessary casualties!"

"You think now's the time to think about that crap!?" Nadia retorted vehemently. "You think the Widow will give a fuck about a bunch of dead muggles or a destroyed ship? She wants Potter dead. That's all she cares about!"

"Could you not speak about me as if I'm not here?" Harry called out amusedly, and they all whirled around toward him once again. "Now, I've not seen from you, Valentina, but your spellwork shows you three are assassins, not fighters. I mean, your spells are not that powerful, and even the way you hold your wands shows that you're not used to battling in person. Stealth is where your strengths are, am I right?"

As if to prove his point, he gestured casually, and all three wands flew from their owners' grips to hover in the air beside him. Their eyes widened as Harry stalked forward, and they kept stepping back until they were pressed against the rail, trapped between Harry and the dark water. The wind had picked up, and their hair whipped about wildly as they stared at him.

"Now then, it would be terribly unfair to subject all these innocent party-goers to what's about to happen," he continued. "They're just here to have a good time, and I'd hate to interrupt their pretty sleep or traumatize them after they've had so much fun. I think we should take our little discussion somewhere more private."

Without any visible spell-casting, invisible bonds wrapped around all three women, holding them fast. Harry stepped forward until he was close enough to touch.

"Don't worry," he said with a smile that was anything but reassuring as he gently caressed Isabelle's cheek. The woman seemed to unconsciously lean into his touch before she flinched. Harry smirked. "You're going to enjoy this. I promise."

The wards around the yacht dissolved and the world twisted around them. The last thing any of the other party-goers would remember was a brief flash of light from the stern, easily dismissed as fireworks or someone's camera flash.

When their vision cleared, the four figures were gone as if they'd never been there at all.

-Break-

Harry landed smoothly on his feet, still shirtless and apparently unbothered by the journey.

The three women weren't so lucky. They tumbled forward in a heap, limbs tangled together as they crashed onto the polished floor with a collective grunt of pain. Their invisible bonds had vanished during the apparition, but the disorientation from side-along travel left them sprawled like ragdolls.

"Tsk, tsk," Harry said, shaking his head. "That's no way for professional assassins to make an entrance."

With a casual wave of his hand, invisible force lifted all three women upright, setting them on their feet with their backs pressed together in a tight triangle. They swayed slightly, still dizzy, but remained standing whether they wanted to or not.

Harry crossed the room and draped himself across an oversized leather couch positioned near the bed. The city lights behind him cast his face in shadow, making his green eyes seem even more luminous. Another gesture and the three women rotated smoothly to face him, their bodies moving without their consent like mannequins on a turntable.

He regarded them with one eyebrow raised, his posture relaxed but somehow still predatory. The silence stretched out for several long seconds.

"You know," Harry finally said, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other, "the Widow seems to be reaching well beyond her station these days. What's the phrase? Overstepping her bounds? Getting too big for her lingerie? Sorry, I'm taking liberty with the sayings here."

The three women exchanged nervous glances but said nothing. Harry didn't seem to expect a response. He was staring past them now, lost in thought.

"I mean, I did expect some kind of retaliation after I sent that last lackey running back to her," he continued conversationally. "Poor bastard could barely walk straight after our little chat. I imagine he delivered my message quite clearly, though. The Widow must've been furious." Harry smiled at the memory. "But this? Three assassins on a yacht full of innocents? That's either desperation or sheer arrogance. I'm trying to figure out which."

"It's not personal," Valentina blurted out suddenly. The words seemed to escape her mouth before she could stop them. "We were just following orders. It's just a job."

"Just a job," Nadia echoed quickly, nodding. "Nothing against you specifically, Mr. Potter. You understand, right?"

Isabelle remained silent, but her eyes were pleading, all her confidence and sultriness from before gone, vanished in a puff of smoke.

Harry's gaze snapped back to them, and he studied their faces for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nodded. "You know what? I believe you. I do."

The women stared at him for a moment, wondering if they'd misheard. When he simply smiled, they seemed to breathe a little easier, hope flickering in their expressions.

"Contrary to what you might think," Harry said, his voice gentler now, "I hold no animosity toward you three. Not really."

"Really?" Isabelle asked, the word coming out as barely more than a whisper. She looked genuinely surprised.

"Really," Harry confirmed. He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I know how this works. It's just a job for you, like you said. You didn't wake up one morning and decide 'Hey, I want to kill Harry Potter today.' Someone paid you. Someone gave you orders. Someone who has enough leverage over you that refusing wasn't an option."

He paused, letting that sink in.

"I might not know your individual backstories," he continued, "but I can guess they're not pleasant. Organizations like the Widow's don't recruit from happy, well-adjusted families. They find people who are desperate, who have nowhere else to go, who've been backed into corners so tight that murder for money starts to look like a reasonable career path."

Valentina's jaw tightened. Nadia looked away. And Isabelle closed her eyes. Harry had struck close to home, clearly.

"They prey on the helpless," Harry said quietly. "They take people who have no other choice and they give them a new life. Train them, house them, feed them, give them purpose. And slowly, gradually, those new assassins start to actually like their new lives. The money's good, the work is straightforward, and they're surrounded by people who understand them in ways civilians never could. So they stay. They never want to leave. And the cycle continues, feeding on the next generation of desperate souls."

A heavy silence settled over them. None of the women contradicted him.

"I also know," Harry said, his tone matter-of-fact now, "that you're probably not remorseful about the lives you've taken so far. Most of your targets were likely people who deserved what they got. Corrupt politicians, abusive crime lords, people who'd done terrible things and gotten away with it. Am I wrong?"

They said nothing, but their faces confirmed it.

"And I know you won't change your lives," Harry added. "You're not going to wake up tomorrow with a sudden attack of conscience and quit the assassination business. This is who you are now. This is what you do. And honestly? I don't care enough to try to reform you. That would be a waste of my time and energy."

Hope bloomed fully in their expressions now. Valentina's shoulders relaxed. Nadia's breathing steadied. Isabelle's eyes widened with relief.

"So you're not going to do anything to us?" Valentina asked carefully, as if afraid that speaking the words might shatter the possibility.

"I'm not," Harry said simply. "I don't want to waste my efforts killing you. You're not worth it. You're just tools, and I don't hold grudges against tools."

All three women released sighs that seemed to come from their very souls. The terror that had been gripping them since Harry had appeared out of that room on the yacht finally began to loosen its hold. Nadia actually slumped slightly, and Isabelle's eyes glistened with tears of relief.

"However," Harry said, and the single word made them all freeze again. "You should still pay for what you did."

The fear came rushing back instantly. Their eyes went wide, their bodies tensing as if preparing for pain or death or something worse.

"Wait, please—" Nadia started.

"I said I wouldn't do anything to you," Harry interrupted, raising a hand. "And I won't. But I didn't say anything about someone other than me."

Before any of them could ask what he meant by that, the door to the suite opened.

A woman entered, and all three assassins turned to look. She was stunning, with long dark hair that cascaded past her shoulders, sharp aristocratic features, and a figure that would make goddesses jealous. She wore a revealing black dress that somehow managed to be both elegant and provocative. Her dark eyes swept over the three bound women with curiosity and amusement.

"Bella," Harry said warmly, and the woman's face lit up. "Perfect timing."

Bellatrix gracefully crossed the room toward him. Harry stood from the couch as she approached, and she pressed herself against him naturally, like she belonged there. Harry pulled her close, wrapping one arm around her waist, and buried his face in her hair, breathing in deeply.

"Master," Bella murmured, her voice filled with genuine affection.

Harry pulled back just enough to lean close to her ear, his hand coming up to cup the back of her head. He began whispering, his words too quiet for the three assassins to hear. As he spoke, Bella's expression shifted through several emotions—surprise, understanding, and then something predatory that made all three women take an involuntary step back despite their magical restraints.

Bella's hands had tightened on Harry's shoulders as he spoke, her fingers digging into his bare skin. But as he continued, she gradually relaxed, and by the time he pulled back, she was smiling.

She stepped away from him and gave a respectful bow, deep enough to show true deference. "As you wish, Master. I understand perfectly."

Harry gave her a warm and approving smile. Then he turned to face the three assassins one last time. They were staring at him with expressions that had shifted from relief back to something resembling terror, though this fear seemed different—more uncertain, more confused.

"What you're going to pay won't be painful. Well, not unless you want it to be, I suppose. Bella will explain the rest," Harry said cheerfully. He gave them a casual wave, almost friendly. "Good luck, ladies. I have a feeling you're going to need it."

And with a soft crack, he was gone.

The silence in the suite was absolute for about three heartbeats. Then Valentina found her voice.

"What did he tell you?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. "What's going to happen to us?"

Bellatrix turned to face them fully, and her smile widened. It wasn't a comforting expression. She began walking toward them slowly, her heels clicking on the polished floor with each measured step.

"Oh, don't look so worried," Bella purred. "Master was very clear in his instructions. He doesn't want you hurt. He doesn't want you killed. He just wants you... educated."

"Educated?" Nadia repeated warily.

"Mmm," Bella hummed, circling them now like a shark around prey. "You see, my Master is very particular about debts. You three tried to kill him. Failed spectacularly, I might add, but you did try. And while he bears you no personal ill will, he can't simply let that go unpunished. It would set a poor precedent."

She stopped in front of Isabelle, reaching out to trail one finger along the younger woman's jaw. Isabelle shivered but couldn't pull away.

"But Master is also pragmatic," Bella continued. "Killing you would be wasteful. Torturing you would be tedious. So instead, he's devised something much more... creative."

"What?" Valentina demanded. "Just tell us!"

Bellatrix laughed, and it sent shivers down their spines. "Oh, where's the fun in that? But since Master wants you to understand your situation clearly, I suppose I should explain." She stepped back, addressing all three of them now. "For the next month, you three belong to me. You'll serve whatever purpose I deem fit. Companionship, assistance, entertainment... whatever strikes my fancy. And at the end of that month, you'll be free to return to your lives, your organization, your Widow, if you choose. No harm, no lasting damage. Just one month of... let's call it personal service."

The three women stared at her in disbelief.

"That's it?" Isabelle asked. "We just... serve you for a month?"

"That's it," Bella confirmed. "Though I should mention that Master's definition of 'not painful' is rather flexible. I won't permanently harm you, but that doesn't mean the next thirty days will be comfortable. It all depends on how cooperative you are. And how much you... entertain me."

The way she said that last part made all three women shift in their places, the meaning dawning on them.

"And if we refuse?" Nadia asked, though her voice held no real defiance. She already knew the answer.

Bellatrix's expression hardened. "Then Master will be disappointed. And trust me, darlings, you don't want to disappoint him. He gave you mercy when he could have simply ended you on that yacht. Refuse, and I'll drag you back to him, and he might not be quite so generous the second time."

She let that threat hang in the air for a moment before her smile returned, softer now.

"But I don't think you'll refuse," Bella said confidently. "You're survivors. That's what makes you good assassins. You know when you're beaten, and you know when to accept the better deal. One month of uncertainty versus permanent death? That's not really a difficult choice, is it?"

Valentina looked at her sister, then at Isabelle. They were all exhausted, frightened, and completely out of options. Slowly, Valentina nodded.

"We accept," she said quietly.

"Excellent," Bella clapped her hands together, genuinely pleased. "Then let's begin your education, shall we? First lesson: when you're in my presence, you address me as Mistress. Understood?"

"Yes... Mistress," all three said in unison.

Bellatrix's smile was radiant. "Oh, we're going to have such fun together. Now, let's discuss the rules..."

-Break-

The next few days passed in a blur of preparation and reconnaissance.

Harry studied maps of the Monaco circuit, purchased appropriate tickets, and even bought some casual racing merchandise to blend in with the crowd. He researched the Rascasse corner specifically and found it was indeed known for being one of the more dramatic spots on the track, where crashes and overtakes were common.

Saturday morning arrived with perfect weather for racing. The Mediterranean sun was bright but not oppressive, and a light breeze kept the temperature comfortable. Harry dressed in khakis, a polo shirt, and a Ferrari cap he'd bought from a street vendor. He looked every inch the casual motorsport fan.

The principality of Monaco was electric with excitement. Every hotel was booked, every restaurant packed, and the streets filled with people wearing team colors and carrying race programs. Luxury cars that would turn heads anywhere else barely warranted a second glance here, where Lamborghinis and Ferraris were practically common transport.

Harry made his way through the crowds toward the Rascasse corner. The atmosphere was intoxicating in its own way, completely different from the glamorous party scene he'd experienced in Cannes. This was raw excitement, the kind that came from eighteen of the world's best drivers racing wheel-to-wheel through narrow city streets at speeds that defied common sense.

Section B turned out to be a covered grandstand with excellent sightlines to both the corner itself and the harbor beyond. Harry found his seat and settled in to wait, scanning the crowd for any sign of his quarry. The grandstand was filling up quickly with an international mix of racing fans. He heard conversations in at least a dozen languages as people claimed their spots for the race.

It happened twenty minutes before the start. Harry heard excited chatter coming from the entrance to his section. Two young women were making their way down the aisle, and something about their voices made him look up.

The first thing he noticed was their hair. Both were blonde, but where one had long, straight locks that caught the light like spun gold, the other had shorter, more tousled waves that framed her face. The taller of the two moved with unconscious grace, her blue eyes scanning the crowd with subtle wariness even as she smiled. She wore designer jeans and a white blouse that managed to be both elegant and casual.

Her companion was clearly younger and practically vibrating with excitement. She bounced on her toes as they walked, her blue sundress swirling around her legs, chattering animatedly about everything she saw. Where her sister maintained careful composure, this one was all unbridled enthusiasm.

"Daph, look at all this!" the younger blonde exclaimed, gesturing wildly at the crowd and the track beyond. "I can't believe we're actually here!"

"Keep your voice down, Tori," the taller one replied fondly, placing a gentle hand on her sister's arm. "We don't need to announce our presence to everyone."

Harry kept his reaction under control. Daphne and Astoria Greengrass. After days of searching, here they were, practically falling into his lap. He'd indeed given Bella her fair reward for what she'd found out for him.

The sisters found seats about three rows down and to Harry's left, close enough that he could hear their conversation if he focused. As they settled in, Harry studied them more carefully. Both had clearly adapted well to muggle life. Their clothes were fashionable but not flashy, their behavior perfectly natural. If he hadn't known better, he would have assumed they were just another pair of wealthy European socialites enjoying a day at the races.

"I still can't believe you're so excited for something like this," Daphne said as she checked her race program.

Astoria's face lit up. "This is completely different from anything though! The noise, the speed, the danger of it all. And they're not flying, Daph. They're racing on the ground like regular people do, but faster than should be humanly possible."

The flying bit was whispered under her breath. Harry was impressed by how smoothly they avoided any direct wizarding references while still maintaining their natural conversation.

Daphne's protective instincts were clearly strong, but she was indulging her sister's excitement rather than trying to dampen it.

"Just promise me you won't get too worked up," Daphne said quietly. "You know how excitement affects you."

A shadow crossed Astoria's face, and her hand moved unconsciously to her chest. "I'll be fine. The medicines have been working better lately."

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

Astoria squeezed her sister's hand. "I promise I'll be careful. But Daph, I need this. I need to feel alive while I still can."

The pain in her voice was unmistakable, and Harry felt an unexpected pang of sympathy. Whatever the blood curse was doing to her, it was clearly taking its toll on both sisters.

The conversation was interrupted by the roar of engines as the formation lap began. Eighteen Formula 1 cars screamed past their section in a blur of color and sound that made normal conversation impossible. The crowd erupted in cheers, and Astoria jumped to her feet with pure joy.

For the next hour and a half, Harry found himself genuinely caught up in the race. The Monaco Grand Prix was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. The cars were so close he could see the drivers' helmets, and the sound was overwhelming in the best possible way. Several times drivers took the Rascasse corner so aggressively that Harry thought they'd surely crash, only to somehow maintain control through pure skill and reflexes.

Astoria was in her element, cheering loudly at every overtake attempt, meagre as the opportunities might be, and groaning dramatically when her favorite drivers fell back in the pack. Daphne was more reserved but no less engaged, offering knowledgeable commentary that showed she'd done her homework before attending.

Harry couldn't help but smile at their joy. These weren't the cold, calculating purebloods he'd expected. They were just two sisters trying to make the best of a difficult situation, finding moments of happiness wherever they could.

As the race wound down to its conclusion, Harry began planning his approach. He couldn't just walk up to them directly; that would put them on the defensive immediately. He needed to seem casual, accidental even.

The checkered flag fell to thunderous applause, and the crowd began the slow process of filtering out of the grandstands. Harry hung back, watching as the Greengrass sisters gathered their belongings and joined the exodus. He followed at a discrete distance, staying far enough back to avoid notice but close enough to track their movements.

They moved through the crowd with ease, clearly familiar with large public events. Daphne kept one hand on her sister's arm, guiding them through the throng of people while maintaining pleasant smiles for anyone who made eye contact.

They were good at this, Harry realized. Better than good. They'd completely reinvented themselves as muggles.

As they approached the main exit, Harry noticed something that made him freeze. Daphne had gone completely rigid, her face pale. Her eyes were fixed on something ahead of them, and her grip on Astoria's arm had tightened noticeably.

Following her gaze, Harry realized she'd spotted him. Their eyes met across the crowd, and recognition flashed between them instantly. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Daphne's training kicked in, and she smoothly turned away, leaning down to whisper something urgent in her sister's ear.

Astoria's reaction was immediate and concerning. She began shaking almost imperceptibly, her breathing becoming shallow and rapid. Daphne wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders, murmuring reassurances while scanning the crowd for the quickest exit route.

They were trying to blend in with the departing fans, but Harry could see the tension in their movements. Astoria was getting worse, her trembling more pronounced, and Daphne's concern was becoming harder to hide.

As they passed a restroom sign, Daphne made a quick decision and steered her sister toward the facilities. Harry gave them a few moments before following, positioning himself outside where he could monitor the situation without being obvious about it.

Several minutes passed. Then he heard it—a sound that made him furrow his brows and strain his ears to listen properly. Someone was retching violently, the wet, desperate sounds of someone losing a fight with their own body. It went on far too long, accompanied by what sounded like quiet sobbing.

Harry's resolve hardened. Whatever was happening to Astoria Greengrass, it was serious. And if Pansy was right about Daphne's devotion to her sister, this might be his only chance to help them both.

The sounds from the restroom eventually quieted, replaced by hushed voices and the sound of running water. Harry positioned himself casually against the wall opposite the entrance, checking his phone as if waiting for someone.

When the sisters finally emerged, they looked shaken but composed. Daphne had her arm around Astoria's waist, supporting her sister's weight while maintaining the appearance of casual affection. Astoria's face was pale but no longer had that grey undertone that had been creeping in during the race.

They made it perhaps twenty feet before Harry spoke.

"It seems Pansy was right that I'd find you in the area," he said quietly, his voice carrying just far enough to reach them. "Although this is a bit farther from the Riviera than I expected."

Both sisters froze mid-step. Slowly, they turned to face him, moving closer together in unconscious solidarity.

Up close, Harry could see the family resemblance more clearly. They both had the same aristocratic bone structure and intelligent eyes, though Daphne's were blue while Astoria's were grey. There was steel in Daphne's spine despite her fear, and protective fury in the way she positioned herself slightly in front of her younger sister.

"Harry Potter," Daphne said, her voice carefully neutral. "We've left that world behind. We don't want to do anything with you or anyone else there."

"Fled and hidden, you mean," Harry corrected with a smile. Daphne's lips pursed as she stared at him.

"I had hoped we'd managed to hide more thoroughly than this."

"You did a good job," Harry acknowledged. "It took considerable effort to track you down."

Astoria's hand found her sister's, squeezing tightly. "What do you want from us?" she asked, her voice shakier than she probably intended. "We haven't done anything wrong."

"I'm not here to arrest you or cause trouble," Harry said quickly, noting how they both tensed at the implication. "I just want to talk."

Daphne's laugh was bitter. "Talk? You're Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, the man who saved the wizarding world. What could you possibly want to talk to us about? We didn't even speak once during our six years at Hogwarts."

"You're absolutely right," Harry agreed. "We were complete strangers, which is exactly why I understand your confusion. But there are things we need to discuss, and this isn't the place for that conversation."

"We don't care," Daphne said firmly. "Whatever business the wizarding world might have with us, we're not interested. We've built new lives here."

Harry's eyes flicked meaningfully to Astoria, whose face had grown paler during their exchange. "You tried, but have you really left it behind?" he asked softly. "Or has it simply followed you in ways you can't escape?"

Astoria's sharp intake of breath told him his guess was correct. Daphne's protective instincts flared immediately.

"I don't know what you're implying—"

"The blood curse," Harry interrupted gently. "It's getting worse, isn't it?"

The sisters exchanged a look of pure panic. Astoria swayed slightly on her feet, and Daphne's arm tightened around her.

"How could you possibly—" Daphne began, then stopped herself. "Ah yes, you mentioned Parkinson. In any case, it doesn't matter. Whatever you think you know, we're handling it."

"Are you?" Harry asked. "Because from what I just witnessed, it seems like you're fighting a losing battle. And that's not a fight you have to face alone. You could have help, if only you choose to listen."

His words cut off any rebuttal that would've come out of Daphne's mouth. Harry could see the internal struggle playing out on her face—the desperate hope warring with learned caution, the love for her sister battling against the fear of trusting someone from their old world.

"This conversation needs to happen somewhere private," Harry continued. "Somewhere we won't be overheard or interrupted. You both know that."

Astoria tugged on her sister's hand. "Daph," she whispered. "Maybe we should listen to what he has to say."

"Tori, we agreed—"

"We agreed to stay away from that world because it had nothing good to offer us," Astoria interrupted, her voice gaining strength. "But if there's even a chance..."

She didn't finish the sentence, but she didn't need to. The hope in her eyes was heartbreaking and infectious.

Daphne looked between her sister and Harry, clearly torn. Finally, she sighed heavily. "If we agree to this conversation, what assurances do we have that you're not leading us into a trap?"

"None," Harry said honestly. "Except my word that I'm here to help, not harm. Although not without a price, but we can talk about it later. Also, the fact that if I wanted to hurt you, I could have done it already without all this talking."

It was a brutal truth, but an effective one. Both sisters recognized the reality of their situation—they were two runaway witches facing one of the most powerful wizards alive. If Harry had malicious intentions, they wouldn't stand a chance regardless.

After a long moment, Daphne nodded reluctantly. "Somewhere private then. But if this is some kind of trick—"

"It's not," Harry assured her. He stepped forward and extended both hands palm up. "Take my hands. We'll be at our destination in moments."

The sisters hesitated, looking at his outstretched hands like they might bite them. Finally, Astoria reached out first, her fingers trembling as they made contact with Harry's. Daphne followed a second later, her grip tight and controlled.

"Hold on," Harry warned.

The world twisted around them with barely a whisper of sound, and the chaos of post-race Monaco disappeared in favor of somewhere much more private where they could have the conversation that would change all of their lives.

TBC.

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Thanks for reading.

Chapter Text

The world solidified around them as they apparated, and Daphne's grip on Harry's hand tightened reflexively as her feet found solid ground. She blinked rapidly to clear her vision, and as the disorientation passed, she found herself standing in what looked like a luxurious suite.

The suite was massive, easily larger than any single room of the Greengrass manor had been. Floor to ceiling windows dominated one wall, offering a breathtaking view of Paris at night. The furniture was all rich leather and polished wood, arranged for both comfort and aesthetic appeal. A king-sized bed occupied one end, covered in silk sheets that probably cost more than most people earned in a month.

Astoria swayed slightly beside her, and Daphne immediately wrapped an arm around her sister's waist to steady her. Her face had gone pale again during the journey, and she was breathing with shallow gasps.

"Make yourselves comfortable," Harry said easily, releasing their hands and gesturing around the room.

Daphne guided Astoria toward the couch, her mind racing. She'd expected many things when she'd agreed to this conversation, but being apparated to what was clearly Harry Potter's personal suite in Paris hadn't been one of them. Every instinct she'd honed over years of survival was screaming at her to grab her sister and run, but she forced herself to remain calm. Running wouldn't help Astoria, and Potter had been right about one thing. If he'd wanted to hurt them, he wouldn't have needed all this elaborate setup.

She'd just gotten Astoria settled on the plush couch when the door opened.

Daphne turned to see who had entered, and her entire body went rigid. Her breath caught in her throat as a familiar figure swept into the room. Long dark hair cascaded past her shoulders, framing a face that had haunted many people's nightmares for years. The woman wore a form fitting black dress that left little to the imagination, and her dark eyes swept over the sisters with undisguised curiosity.

"Bellatrix," Daphne breathed, the name coming out strangled. Her hand flew to her wand holster by pure instinct.

Astoria made a small, frightened sound beside her, shrinking back into the couch cushions. Her hand found Daphne's free one and squeezed with surprising strength for someone so weakened.

Harry let out a quiet chuckle, and Daphne's head snapped toward him. He was watching their reaction with an amused look on his face, looking completely relaxed. He looked like he didn't even care that one of the most dangerous witches alive had just strolled into the suite looking like a woman straight out of an adolescent's wet dreams.

"There's nothing to worry about," he said, his tone almost conversational.

"Nothing to worry about?" Daphne's voice came out higher than she intended, years of careful composure cracking in face of her shock. "That's Bellatrix. She tortured people for fun. She killed without remorse. She—"

She was already pulling her wand free, muscle memory overriding all rational thought. But before the wood had even cleared her holster completely, Harry moved.

One moment he was standing several feet away, the next he was directly in front of her. Daphne barely had time to gasp before his hand closed gently over hers, stopping her with barely any pressure at all. His green eyes bored into hers, and there was something in them that made her freeze completely.

"Easy," he said softly, his thumb brushing across her knuckles. "I promise you, there's nothing to worry about."

The contact sent an unexpected jolt through Daphne's system. His hand was warm against hers, his grip firm but careful, and he was standing close enough that she could smell his masculine scent deeply. It made her thoughts stutter.

She stared up at him, completely thrown by the gentleness of his touch, the commanding air around him, and the calm certainty in his voice.

Slowly, carefully, Harry guided her hand back down to her side. He never broke eye contact, never increased the pressure of his grip, just maintained that steady, reassuring contact until her arm had lowered completely. Only then did he release her and step back, offering a small smile.

Daphne's wand remained clutched in her hand, but she made no move to raise it again. Her heart was hammering against her ribs for reasons that had nothing to do with fear of Bellatrix anymore. She couldn't quite process what had just happened, how easily he'd stopped her, how gentle he'd been about it, or why a part of her wanted him to touch her again.

The smile Harry gave her before stepping away made her stomach do something complicated.

"Much better," he said, turning back toward Bellatrix.

The dark haired witch had been watching the entire exchange with obvious interest, a knowing smile playing at her lips. As Harry approached, she moved to meet him, and it made Daphne's breath catch for entirely different reasons.

Without hesitation, Bellatrix draped herself over Harry, her body pressing against his intimately. One of her hands slid up his chest while the other curved around his neck, her fingers playing with the hair at his nape. She tilted her head back to look up at him, and the expression on her face was nothing like the mad, cruel woman Daphne remembered from the war.

This Bellatrix looked soft. Adoring, even.

"Master," she purred, the word dripping with affection and something darker that made heat rise into Daphne's cheeks. What followed shocked her even more.

One moment, the two were staring at each other, and the next, Harry was kissing her, one hand tangling in her hair while the other settled on her waist. Daphne's eyes bugged out. It wasn't a chaste peck or a quick greeting. It was deep and thorough and completely uncaring of the company. Bellatrix let out a small sound of pleasure, melting into him like she belonged there.

Beside Daphne, Astoria made a small squeaking noise. When Daphne glanced at her sister, the younger girl's eyes were wide as saucers, her mouth hanging open in pure shock. Daphne knew she probably looked similar.

When they finally broke apart, Bellatrix looked pleasantly dazed. Harry's hand was still on her waist, keeping her close, and he seemed completely unbothered by their audience.

"How are our three guests settling in?" he asked casually, as if they were discussing the weather rather than whatever the hell this situation was.

Bellatrix's face lit up with enthusiasm. "Oh, Master, they're doing wonderfully. The first few days were a bit rough, of course. Valentina tried to test boundaries twice before she accepted that I was serious about the rules. But once that was sorted, they've been quite cooperative."

She shifted in his arms, her fingers tracing absent patterns on his chest as she spoke. "Nadia's actually been the most interesting. She has this wonderful talent for massage that I've been taking full advantage of. And Isabelle..." Bellatrix's smile turned wicked. "Well, let's just say she's very creative when properly motivated."

"And you think they'll be ready for what I have planned?"

"It's early days yet," Bellatrix admitted, tilting her head thoughtfully. "But yes, I believe so. They're adapting faster than I expected. Another week or two and they should be perfectly suited to the task. I'll admit, Master, I'm going to be rather sad when their month is up. I've grown quite fond of having them around."

Harry chuckled and pulled her in for another kiss, this one shorter but no less intense. When they parted, Bellatrix looked thoroughly satisfied.

"What the fuck is going on?" Daphne whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Harry turned toward her, Bellatrix still pressed against his front. "That's a long story."

"It must be one hell of a story," Daphne managed, her voice strangled. "Because this makes absolutely no bloody sense."

Harry sighed and gently extracted himself from Bellatrix's embrace. The dark haired witch pouted slightly but didn't protest, moving to lean against the back of the couch. Harry crossed the room and settled into one of the leather armchairs, looking completely relaxed.

Harry began telling her how he encountered Bellatrix, and Daphne listened in silence. Astoria had gone very still beside her, barely breathing as she absorbed Harry's words.

"The details aren't important," Harry continued. "What matters is that circumstances led to her swearing herself to my service. Complete, absolute service. Master and subordinate, in every sense of those words."

He paused, his green eyes meeting Daphne's directly. "And yeah, we're fucking too. It's all part of the arrangement we've got going on. She serves me in every way possible, and she loves doing what she does. In return, I protect and care for her. It works really well for us."

The casual way he said it made Daphne's head spin. This wasn't the Harry Potter she'd known about during their school years. That Harry Potter had been awkward, earnest, and heroic in a traditional sense. This man sitting before her was something else entirely. Confident, powerful, and apparently perfectly comfortable with having Bellatrix fucking Lestrange as his subordinate and lover.

"Who are you?" Daphne asked quietly. The question came out before she could think better of it, but once spoken, she realized it was exactly what she needed to know. "The Harry Potter I knew about... he was nothing like this."

Harry gave her an understanding smile. "People change. War changes people. Power changes people. And I've had a lot of both."

Before Daphne could respond, Astoria began coughing beside her. It started as a small, dry sound but quickly escalated into harsh, wracking spasms that shook her entire body. Daphne immediately turned her full attention to her sister, one hand rubbing circles on her back while the other maintained a steadying grip on her arm.

"Shh, it's alright," Daphne murmured, her voice tight with worry. "Just breathe, Tori. Nice and slow."

Bellatrix was moving before Daphne even registered it. The dark-haired witch crossed the room with surprising speed, her earlier sensuality replaced by focus. She knelt in front of Astoria, her movements gentle as she eased the younger girl back against the couch cushions. Daphne almost lashed out on instinct, but she controlled herself.

"Easy now, little one," Bellatrix said softly. "Let me have a look."

Astoria complied without protest, too weakened by the coughing fit to do much else. Daphne had to control herself once again when Bellatrix drew her wand, and she watched with bated breath as she began running what she recognized as some rather advanced diagnostic spells.

The tip traced patterns in the air above Astoria's body, leaving glowing runes that hung suspended for several seconds before fading. With each pass, more information revealed itself in streams of light.

The process took several minutes. Daphne's nails dug into her palms as she waited, every fiber of her being focused on her sister's pale face. Astoria's breathing had evened out somewhat, but she still looked terrible. Grey undertones had crept into her skin, and her lips had taken on a slightly blue tinge that made Daphne's stomach clench with fear.

Finally, Bellatrix completed her examination and straightened up. With a wave of her wand, she summoned a small vial from somewhere in the suite. The liquid inside was a deep purple that seemed to swirl with its own internal light.

"Drink this, sweetheart," Bellatrix instructed, uncorking the vial and pressing it gently into Astoria's hands. "It'll help you rest."

Astoria looked at the potion, then at Daphne. Her eyes were wide and frightened, silently asking for permission. Daphne wanted to refuse, wanted to grab her sister and run from this madness, but she couldn't. Not when Astoria was this bad. Not when they'd already come this far.

She nodded slowly.

Astoria downed the potion in one swallow, grimacing at what was apparently a foul taste. Within seconds, her eyes began to droop. She tried to fight it, her hand reaching out to clutch at Daphne's arm, but the draught was too strong. Her grip went slack and her eyes closed completely, her breathing evening out as she fell sleep.

"She won't wake until morning," Bellatrix said quietly, adjusting Astoria's position so she was lying more comfortably on the couch. "Best to let her rest before we discuss what I found."

Daphne's heart was already sinking. The careful way Bellatrix had phrased that, the gentleness in her movements, and the fact that she'd put Astoria to sleep before sharing the diagnosis… none of it boded well.

"Tell me," Daphne said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Please."

Bellatrix stood and faced her fully. All traces of the seductive, playful woman from earlier had vanished, replaced by someone who looked genuinely troubled. "The blood curse has progressed much further than I suspect you realized. It's not just attacking her magical self anymore. It's beginning to affect her organs as well."

"How bad?" Daphne managed, though she already knew she didn't want to hear the answer.

"Days," Bellatrix said bluntly. "Maybe a week at most. The curse is accelerating, feeding on itself as it spreads through her system. Every time her heart beats, it carries the corruption further. Every breath she takes, the curse strengthens its hold. It's in the final stage."

The words hit Daphne like physical blows. Days. A week at most. After everything they'd survived, all the running and hiding and fighting, Astoria had days left.

"No," Daphne heard herself say. "No, that can't be right. Check again. You must have made a mistake. The healers we've been seeing said she had months. Maybe more if the experimental treatments worked. They said—"

"They were either incompetent or lying to spare your feelings," Bellatrix interrupted, not unkindly. "I'm sorry, but there's no mistake in my diagnosis. The curse has reached a critical stage."

Daphne felt something inside her chest begin to crack. Her breathing came faster, becoming shallower, as if no air arrived into her lungs. The room tilted slightly, or maybe that was just her.

"This can't be happening," she whispered. "Not now. Not after everything. She's supposed to have more time. We were supposed to figure something out. We had plans. We had—"

Harry was suddenly there, his hands on her shoulders, steadying her. Daphne tried to pull away, tried to maintain some semblance of control, but her body wasn't cooperating. The panic was rising in her chest like a living thing, threatening to consume her completely.

"Everything's gone wrong," she gasped out, her vision starting to blur at the edges. "All of it. Everything we've suffered, everything we've sacrificed, it was all for nothing. She's going to die and it's not even her fault. She didn't do anything wrong. She was just born into the wrong family with the wrong bloodline and now she's going to die and I can't—I can't—"

Harry pulled her against his chest before she could finish the thought. His arms wrapped around her firmly, holding her in place even as she struggled against his grip. Daphne pushed at him, trying to break free, but he was stronger than he looked and he didn't let go. He just held her there, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head, his other arm banded around her waist.

"Let go of me," Daphne tried to say, but it came out broken and desperate. "I need to—she can't—"

But Harry didn't release her. He just held on, enduring her struggles until gradually, inevitably, she began to crumble. The fight went out of her all at once, leaving her with nothing but the crushing weight of despair. Her hands stopped pushing and started clutching instead, fisting in his shirt as if he was the only solid thing in a world that was falling apart.

Tears began streaming down her face. She couldn't remember the last time she'd cried like this, openly and without restraint. She'd been so strong for so long, had to be strong for Astoria's sake, but now all that strength was failing her.

"She's going to die," Daphne sobbed against Harry's chest, her eyes fixed on her sister's unconscious form on the couch. "My baby sister is going to die and there's nothing I can do to stop it."

"Yes there is," Harry said quietly, his voice rumbling through his chest where Daphne was pressed against him. "I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure Astoria not only survives this blood curse but gets her normal life back. I vow this to you, Daphne. She will live."

There was such certainty in his voice, such absolute conviction, that Daphne found herself believing him despite everything. She didn't understand why he would make such a promise, what he possibly stood to gain from helping them, but in that moment, she desperately needed to believe that someone could save her sister.

Slowly, carefully, Daphne extracted herself from Harry's embrace. He let her go without protest, his hands falling away from her as she stepped back. She wiped at her face, trying to pull herself together, and forced herself to meet his eyes.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice raw from crying but steady.

Harry's expression remained neutral. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not an idiot," Daphne said flatly. "I know exactly what position I'm in. My sister is dying, and you're telling me you can save her. You wouldn't make an offer like that without wanting something in return. Nothing is free, especially not something this important. So what do you want?"

For a long moment, Harry just looked at her. Then he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "We can discuss the specifics later. Right now, what's important is saving your sister's life. Once she's stable and recovering, then we can talk about the rest."

Daphne wanted to argue. Every instinct she had was screaming at her to get this settled now, to know exactly what price she'd be paying before agreeing to anything. But she also recognized the truth in what he was saying. Astoria was dying. They had days at most. Whatever Harry wanted from her, it couldn't possibly be worse than watching her sister slip away.

"Fine," she said quietly. "We'll discuss it later."

"Good," Harry said with a small smile. He turned toward Bellatrix, who had been waiting silently by the windows. "Bella? Can you walk her through what needs to happen?"

Bellatrix moved forward, her expression serious. "The curse can be lifted and your sister can be cured completely. However, the process is going to be extremely painful for her. The ritual required to transfer the curse will feel like her blood is boiling in her veins. It's not an experience anyone should have to endure while conscious."

"Transfer?" Daphne asked, latching onto the word. "You're going to move the curse to someone else?"

"Yes," Bellatrix confirmed. "We can't simply destroy a blood curse of this magnitude without destroying the victim as well. The curse has woven itself too deeply into her magical and physical systems. So instead, we transfer it intact to a different host. Someone who has volunteered for this purpose."

Daphne highly doubted anyone had truly volunteered to take on a fatal blood curse, but she wasn't about to question the ethics of the situation. Not when Astoria's life hung in the balance.

"To keep her from experiencing the pain," Bellatrix continued, "we'll administer the Draught of Living Death before beginning the ritual. She'll be in a state deeper than sleep, completely unaware of what's happening to her body. When she wakes, the curse will be gone."

"How soon can we start?" Daphne asked immediately.

Bellatrix's smile was almost approving. "Right away, if you'd like. I have everything we need already prepared. You can take whatever seat you prefer while Master and I get to work."

Daphne nodded and moved to the armchair Harry had vacated earlier. She sank into it, her entire body feeling numb with exhaustion and residual fear. Her eyes never left her sister's sleeping form.

Harry turned toward her before moving to join Bellatrix. "Sit tight. It'll be over soon."

Daphne nodded again, not trusting herself to speak. But as Harry began to turn away, something made her reach out and catch his hand. He stopped immediately, looking down at where her fingers wrapped around his wrist.

"If you save her," Daphne said quietly, meeting his eyes, "I'll be forever in your debt. Whatever you want from me, I'll give it. No questions, no hesitation. Just save my sister."

Harry regarded her for a long moment. Then he turned fully, his hand rotating to properly grasp hers. His thumb brushed across her knuckles in a gesture that was becoming oddly familiar.

"I'd rather you didn't see this as debt," he said softly. "Think of it instead as the start of something special in your life."

Understanding hit Daphne like a physical force. The implications of those words, the gentle way he was looking at her, and the fact that he'd gone to such lengths to find them in the first place. She opened her mouth to respond, to demand clarification, but Harry gave her hand a soft squeeze and released it before she could form the words.

He walked away, joining Bellatrix who had already moved to stand beside the couch where Astoria slept. Harry gave Daphne one last meaningful glance, his green eyes holding hers for several seconds, before he turned his full attention to her sister.

Daphne sat frozen in the armchair, her hands clasped tightly in her lap and her heart hammering against her ribs as she watched.

Bellatrix summoned another vial, this one containing a thick, opaque liquid that looked almost black in the suite's lighting. She tilted Astoria's head back gently and carefully poured the Draught of Living Death between her lips. Within moments, her breathing slowed to an almost imperceptible level.

Harry and Bellatrix exchanged a firm nod as they drew their wands, and the ritual began.

The first thing Daphne noticed was the appearance of runes. They materialized in the air around Astoria's body, glowing with a soft blue light that gradually intensified. The symbols were ancient, older than anything Daphne had learned at Hogwarts, and they pulsed with a rhythm that seemed to match Astoria's slowed heartbeat.

Harry began chanting in what sounded like Latin, though the pronunciation was strange and archaic. His wand moved in complex patterns, each gesture precise and controlled. As he spoke, more runes appeared, layering over the first set in increasingly intricate configurations.

Bellatrix moved in perfect synchronization with him. Her wand traced counter patterns to Harry's, creating a web of light that surrounded Astoria completely. Where their magic intersected, the light flared brighter, and Daphne could feel the raw power radiating from them even from across the room.

A door Daphne hadn't noticed before opened, and two figures entered. One was a man in what looked like prison robes, his face slack and his movements mechanical. The other was a young, dark-haired woman who guided the prisoner with a curious look on her face. She noticed the woman smile uncertainly when Harry looked at her before she bowed her head in respect.

Daphne understood immediately. This was the host. The person who would receive Astoria's curse.

The woman positioned the prisoner on a second couch that had been conjured opposite Astoria's. The man lay down without protest, his eyes vacant. Whatever they'd done to him, he was beyond caring about what was going to happen.

Harry's chanting intensified, and new runes appeared, these ones red rather than blue as they began forming a bridge between Astoria and the prisoner. Bellatrix's wand work grew more elaborate, her movements flowing like a deadly dance as she wove protections and channels for the curse to follow.

The air itself seemed to thicken with magic. Daphne could feel it pressing against her skin, making it hard to breathe. The temperature in the room dropped several degrees, and frost began forming on the windows.

Then the transfer began.

A thin stream of something dark and viscous emerged from Astoria's chest. It looked almost solid, like corrupted blood given physical form. The stream writhed and twisted as it moved through the network of runes, fighting against the magic that constrained it. But Harry and Bellatrix's combined power was too strong. The curse followed the path they'd laid for it, moving inevitably toward its new host.

Daphne watched in horrified fascination as the dark substance flowed into the prisoner's chest. The man's body jerked once, violently, before it went still again. The curse continued transferring, more and more of it leaving Astoria's body with each passing second.

The ritual went on for what felt like hours but was probably closer to only a couple. Harry and Bellatrix never faltered, never broke their concentration despite the obvious strain the magic was putting on them both. Sweat beaded on Harry's forehead, and Bellatrix's hands trembled slightly as she maintained the intricate wand movements, but neither of them stopped.

Finally, the last of the dark substance left Astoria's body and settled into the prisoner. The runes flared bright enough to make Daphne squint before they vanished all at once. Harry and Bellatrix both lowered their wands simultaneously, their shoulders sagging slightly with exhaustion.

"You can take him away, Isabelle," Harry said with a smile, and the woman bowed low before she moved forward and levitated the now cursed prisoner. The man's face had already taken on a grey pallor, his breathing labored. He'd be dead within days, Daphne realized distantly, consumed by the same curse that would have killed her sister.

She found she didn't care.

The moment the woman, Isabelle, and prisoner disappeared, Daphne shot out of the armchair. She crossed the distance to the couch in three strides, nearly colliding with Harry in her haste. Her hands hovered over Astoria's still form, afraid to touch her, afraid this wasn't real.

Bellatrix had already vanished through the door, but Daphne barely registered her departure. All of her attention was fixed on her sister.

"Is it done?" she asked, her voice breaking on the last word. "Is she—"

Harry raised his wand and began casting diagnostic charms. Golden light washed over Astoria's body, revealing information that made Daphne's breath catch in her throat. The results floated in the air between them.

No trace of the blood curse remained. Astoria's magic was intact and stable. Her organs showed signs of damage, but nothing that couldn't be fixed with conventional potions.

"She'll feel weak for a while," Harry said quietly, his own voice rough with exhaustion. "She needs to remain in this resting state for at least another day or two. And then we'll give her the potions to heal her organs. But yes, Daphne. She'll survive."

Daphne didn't realize she was crying again until the tears blurred her vision. She reached out with trembling hands and gathered her sister into her arms, cradling Astoria against her chest.

"Thank you," Daphne whispered, the words entirely inadequate for what she was feeling. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Harry said nothing. He just stood there, watching them with a small smile, until Daphne's tears had slowed and she'd regained some measure of composure. Then he quietly excused himself and left the room, shutting the door and giving them privacy.

-Break-

The sitting area of the suite was dimly lit and quiet. Harry leaned against the wall and took a moment to relax. The ritual had taken more out of him than he'd expected, and he could still feel the residual magic thrumming through his system.

Bellatrix appeared at his side almost immediately, having finished with Isabelle and the prisoner. She pressed against him without hesitation, her head resting on his chest.

"Are you sure about this, Master?" she asked quietly. "That she's to be the one?"

Harry nodded slowly. "A pureblood Slytherin who had to flee her country, returning as my wife. It'll be the perfect narrative. The masses will rally behind it, and it'll give my image the exact boost it needs for what's coming."

Bellatrix hummed thoughtfully. "If Cissy was the one who planned this, then you can't really go wrong with it. She has excellent political instincts." She paused before looking up at him. "But do you think she'll accept the other women in your life? The ones you have now and the ones you'll have after the marriage?"

"Let me handle that," Harry said firmly. He pulled her closer and kissed her, deep and thorough, until she was making those small pleased sounds he'd come to enjoy. When he pulled back, she looked appropriately dazed. "Right now, we need to focus on making sure she agrees in the first place."

"She will," Bellatrix said with absolute certainty. "You saved her sister's life. She'd agree to almost anything at this point. She said so herself, remember?"

Harry hummed noncommittally and extracted himself from her embrace. He picked up the mug of tea that had been waiting on a nearby table. Bella's special blend, the one she always made exactly how he liked it.

"Give us some time," he said, already heading back toward the suite's bedroom door.

The discussion that was about to follow was important, and whatever happened, his life was going to get significantly more complicated.

But as he'd learned over the years, complexity often led to the most interesting outcomes.

TBC.

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Chapter Text

Harry found Daphne standing by the floor to ceiling windows. She was silhouetted against the glittering lights of Paris, her arms wrapped around herself as she stared at the illuminated Eiffel Tower in the distance. Her posture was tense, her shoulders rigid. She must have a lot going on in her mind.

Harry crossed the room silently and came to stand beside her, wordlessly holding out the mug of tea.

Daphne glanced at him, surprise flickering across her features as she accepted the offering. "Thanks," she said softly.

They stood in silence for a moment, both staring out at the city lights. Daphne raised the mug to her lips and took a careful sip. Her eyes widened slightly.

"This is really good," she said, genuine appreciation in her voice. "The flavor is incredible. What is it?"

"Bella's special blend," Harry replied with a small smile. "She makes it for me whenever I need to decompress."

"Mmm." Daphne took another sip, seeming to savor it this time. They lapsed back into silence, though it felt more comfortable now. Just two people sharing tea and watching Paris glow in the darkness.

Finally, Daphne spoke. "We should discuss the matter we both know needs discussing."

"We should," Harry agreed.

Daphne glanced at him sideways, her blue eyes assessing him. "I can have a fair guess as to what you want from me."

"Is that so?"

"I might have left the wizarding world behind years ago," Daphne said carefully, "but I'm still a Slytherin. I wouldn't have survived this long by being a dense idiot."

She paused, taking another sip of tea.

"No, I can't imagine you would've," Harry smiled.

"All my life, I was expected to become the wife of someone my father would choose for me. Part of a family alliance, securing connections and power for the Greengrass name. I was raised with those expectations ingrained into every aspect of my upbringing."

Harry nodded, not feeling the need to say anything. He had a fair idea what such an upbringing would've been like.

"When Tori and I fled, I thought that life was behind me. No more arranged marriages, no more being traded like property between pureblood families. I thought we would be free." She let out a bitter chuckle. "I guess freedom was too much to ask for."

"You don't have to think of it like that," Harry said with a small smile.

Daphne turned to him fully now. "What else am I supposed to think of it as? You must have gone through a lot of effort to find us. You helped cure Astoria's blood curse. It's obvious that you want something in return. And that something is for me to become your wife. I'm the daughter of House Greengrass. Even though my family is gone and we left the wizarding world, having me as your wife would come with benefits in the eyes of the public. The symbolism alone would be valuable."

"You're not wrong," Harry agreed. "But you don't have all the answers. I can tell."

"What I don't understand is why you'd want me specifically," Daphne continued, her voice gaining strength. "If you just wanted a pretty pureblood face as your arm candy, there are dozens of witches who would jump at the chance to marry the Boy Who Lived. Why go through all this trouble to find two fugitives? There has to be some reason."

Harry calmly regarded her, sipping his tea as Daphne stared at him expectantly. He made her wait for a few more seconds before he lowered the mug and turned to face her fully. "I'll admit, I hadn't taken your intelligence and perception into account when initially settling on you as a candidate. But now that I've seen it firsthand, I'm even more convinced that you're the best choice I could have made."

Daphne's hand tightened slightly on her mug at hearing the confirmation spoken aloud. His compliment did register with her, but she focused on the more important matter at hand. Her jaw clenched, but she remained silent, clearly waiting for him to elaborate.

"This was Narcissa's idea originally," Harry continued, deciding brutal honesty was the best approach. "She's one of my subordinates. With her, I have an arrangement similar to what I have with Bella, though their roles differ somewhat. Narcissa saw the political advantages of marrying you specifically and gave me the idea."

"So she is one of your servants in this Master-subordinate relationship," Daphne said, though it wasn't really a question.

Harry nodded. "She is. And she was right about the advantages. Having you as my wife would be a massive boost to my political image. A pureblood Slytherin who fled Britain during the war, returning home as my wife? It's the perfect narrative. It shows unity, reconciliation, and that old divisions can be healed. It demonstrates that I'm not just the Gryffindor hero but someone who can bridge the gaps between houses and factions."

He paused, making sure she was following. Daphne's expression remained carefully neutral, but he could see the calculations happening behind her eyes.

"Beyond the political benefits, there are practical considerations," Harry continued. "I need someone intelligent enough to navigate high society functions and political events. Someone who understands the old families and their ways but isn't beholden to their outdated prejudices. Someone who can present the right image publicly while understanding the reality of my private arrangements."

"The other women," Daphne said flatly. "Like Bellatrix and Narcissa."

"Yes. I won't lie to you about this, Daphne. My life includes multiple women in various capacities. Some are subordinates who serve me completely, including sexually. Others are companions, partners in specific endeavors. I won't be giving that up, and I won't be hiding it from you."

Daphne's knuckles had gone white around the mug. "You want me to be your wife, the public face of your image, while you maintain your collection of women on the side."

"I want you to be my wife and understand the full reality of what that means," Harry corrected. "You'll have status, power, and protection. Anything you or Astoria could want will be yours. But it comes with accepting that I'm not the traditional faithful husband."

"How generous," Daphne said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Harry met her eyes steadily. "I could lie to you. I could promise I'd only be involved with you and then carry on affairs behind your back like most of the pureblood marriages you grew up around. But that's not who I am, Daphne. What I am is what you see, and this is what I'm offering. You deserve to know exactly what you'd be agreeing to."

For a long moment, Daphne said nothing. She stood rigid by the window, her eyes now trained firmly on the Eiffel Tower in the distance. Harry could tell that she was fighting some internal battle, weighing options and consequences with the same calculating mind that had kept her and her sister alive and hidden for years.

Finally, she began speaking, her voice low and controlled.

"Ever since we left the wizarding world, I've been hoping we wouldn't have to return. That we could build something new, something free from all the politics and blood status nonsense that defined our lives before." She took a shaky breath. "But that world never really left us alone, did it? We had to hide from people pursuing us. Ministry officials, bounty hunters, even just nosy wizards who could've recognized us or our names. Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to constantly look over your shoulder? To change your appearance every few months, to never stay in one place too long? Fearing that you could be caught any day? Can you imagine the number of sleepless nights we've had to endure?"

Harry gave her a small smile. He could easily imagine such a life. He'd been on the run himself, the memory of those months during the Horcrux hunt still fresh in his mind. It had destroyed everything in his life, and taken away all the relationships he'd once held close to his heart. Or perhaps it had changed everything for the better.

He remained silent though, letting her speak.

"And through it all, the blood curse hung over us like a specter. No matter how far we ran, no matter how well we hid, it was always there. Killing Astoria slowly, day by day, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do to stop it." Her voice cracked slightly. "I watched my sister suffer for years. Watched the light fade from her eyes a little more each month. Watched her pretend to be strong when I knew she was terrified."

Daphne's hands were trembling now. She set the mug down completely, gripping the windowsill instead.

"I've spent every day since we fled trying to find a cure. I tracked down every healer, every curse breaker, every dark arts specialist who might have answers. I sold family heirlooms for consultation fees. I was prepared to do anything, sacrifice anything, if it meant saving her."

She turned to face Harry fully now, her blue eyes shining with unshed tears but her expression resolute.

"I was prepared to die for her," Daphne said quietly. "If some ritual required a sacrifice, if some cure needed my life in exchange for hers, I would have done it without hesitation. Do you understand? I was ready to give up everything, including my own existence, to save my sister."

Harry nodded slowly, recognizing the truth in her words.

"So when you ask what price you're demanding..." Daphne's laugh was hollow. "Becoming your wife? Accepting your other women? Returning to the wizarding world as your political asset? That's nothing compared to what I was prepared to pay. It's not even close."

She stepped forward, closing some of the distance between them. Her chin lifted, and Harry saw the full force of her Slytherin upbringing in her posture. This was Lady Daphne Greengrass, daughter of an ancient pureblood house, and she was making a deal.

"I agree to your terms," she said clearly. "I'll become your wife. I'll return to the wizarding world and play whatever role you need me to play. I'll accept your other women and whatever arrangements you've made with them. I'll be the perfect political asset you want."

Harry studied her face, searching for any sign of hesitation or resentment. What he found instead was determination mixed with relief, and underneath it all, something that might have been hope.

"Just to be clear," he said slowly, "you understand this isn't a temporary arrangement? This is a real marriage, Daphne. Magically binding and permanent. You'll be taking my name, standing at my side as my wife for the rest of our lives."

"I understand."

"And you're sure? I won't hold you to this if you need time to think."

Daphne's smile was sad but genuine. "I've been making impossible choices for years, Pot—Harry. I know how to recognize when I'm getting the better end of a deal. You're offering me and my sister protection, status, resources, and most importantly, Astoria's life and health. In exchange, you want me as your wife despite the complicated nature of your personal life. From where I'm standing and what I was prepared for, that's almost generous."

Harry set his own mug down on a nearby table and moved closer to her. He reached out and gently took her hand, the same gesture he'd made earlier. Daphne's fingers were cold, but they curled around his readily enough.

"Then we have an agreement," he said quietly. "You'll be my wife, and I'll make sure both you and Astoria want for nothing. Your sister will have access to the best treatment on her road to recovery. You'll both have protection from anyone who might seek to harm you. And you'll never have to run or hide again."

"When?" Daphne asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Not immediately. Astoria needs time to recover fully, and you both need time to adjust to coming back into the wizarding world. We'll announce our engagement publicly in a few months, let people get used to the idea. The actual wedding can be six months to a year from now, depending on what makes the most political sense."

Daphne nodded slowly, processing the timeline. "And until then?"

"Until then, you and Astoria will be completely independent while still under my protection. You can revive your family ventures if you'd like. Or we can look into something else. Whatever interests you. We'll work together on your reintroduction to society, make sure you're prepared for the scrutiny that'll come. And we'll get to know each other properly. We're going to be married, after all. We should probably be more than strangers."

"That seems reasonable," Daphne agreed. Then, after a moment's hesitation, she asked, "What about your other women? Will I need to meet them? Establish some sort of hierarchy?"

Harry couldn't help but smile at the clinical way she approached the question. "Eventually, yes. But that can wait until you're more settled. Bella, Cissa, and Pansy already know about this arrangement, obviously. The others will be informed as needed."

"How many others are there?" Daphne asked, then immediately shook her head. "Actually, don't answer that. I don't think I want to know yet."

"Fair enough." Harry squeezed her hand gently before releasing it. "Why don't you get some rest? It's been an exhausting day, and you should be there when Astoria wakes up. We can discuss the details more tomorrow."

Daphne glanced toward the couch where her sister still slept peacefully. The relief on her face was palpable, and the knowledge that Astoria would actually wake up, healthy and curse-free, was clearly overwhelming.

"Thank you," she said again, and she meant it with all that she was worth. "I know I've already said it, but I need you to understand. You saved her life. That's not something I'll ever forget."

"I know," Harry said simply. "Now go. Be with your sister."

Daphne moved toward the couch, then paused and looked back at him. "Harry? Earlier, you said you'd rather I didn't see this as debt. That I should think of it as the start of something special in my life."

"I did say that."

"Did you mean it? Or were those just pretty words to make me feel better about the arrangement?"

"I meant it. I'm not asking you to love me, Daphne. I'm not even asking you to want this marriage in the traditional sense. But I am hoping that over time, you'll find value in what we're building together. That it becomes something more than just a political arrangement."

Daphne stared at him for a long moment, something unreadable flickering across her face. Then she nodded once and turned back to her sister, settling into the armchair beside the couch.

Harry watched her for a few seconds longer before he quietly left the suite. It had gone surprisingly well, all things considered. Maybe he should've given Daphne more credit than he'd done earlier. She was intelligent, mature, and pragmatic enough to recognize the pros and cons of a situation, and with a mind like that, she was going to be a powerful asset.

There were no two ways about it.

-Break-

In the hallway, Bellatrix was waiting for him. She pushed off the wall she'd been leaning against and fell into step beside him.

"Well?" she asked.

"She agreed."

"Of course she did. I told you she would." Bellatrix said with a satisfied smile. "Cissy will be pleased. She's been anxious to meet the future Lady Potter."

"I'm sure she has," Harry said dryly. "But I think we should give Daphne a few days to adjust before throwing her into the deep end of our unconventional dynamics."

"Spoilsport," Bellatrix teased. "What about the sister? What role will she play in all this?"

"I've thought about it, and I've decided that Astoria is off limits," Harry said firmly. "She's to be family now, nothing more. She gets to recover and live whatever life she chooses, free from any obligations or expectations."

Bellatrix nodded approvingly. "Good. The girl's been through enough. And it'll make Daphne more comfortable if she knows her sister is truly protected rather than being used as leverage. But…"

"But what?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow.

"But what if she does choose you too?" Bellatrix asked coyly. "Let's face it, Master. You saved her life. If her sister is feeling so much gratitude for you, imagine what she'd feel."

Harry hummed thoughtfully. Bellatrix did make sense. "We'll see if something like that happens."

They walked in silence for a moment before Bellatrix spoke again. "You know, Master, I never thought I'd see the day when you took a wife. Especially not a pureblood Slytherin who probably spent half her time at Hogwarts thinking you were an overhyped Gryffindor."

Harry laughed. "People change, Bella. She's changed. I've changed. Maybe that's what makes this arrangement work."

"Maybe," Bellatrix agreed, looking thoughtful for a moment before she grinned wickedly. "Or maybe you just have a thing for complicated women who require careful handling."

"That too," Harry admitted with a smirk.

They reached the end of the hallway where a portkey waited to take Harry to his destination. He grabbed hold of it, looking back at Bellatrix who gave him a loving smile.

"She'll be good for you, Master. I can tell. She has spine and intelligence. Plus, she's not going to bore you, which is more than can be said for most of the simpering witches who throw themselves at you."

"High praise coming from you," Harry chuckled.

"I'm practical above all else," Bellatrix said with a shrug. "And practically speaking, Daphne Greengrass is an excellent choice. Cissy was right about that."

Harry nodded as the portkey activated, and he felt the familiar pull of magical transportation. As the world blurred around him, his last thought was of Daphne sitting vigil over her sister, finally able to relax after all these years of constant fear.

He'd made her a promise, and he intended to keep it. Astoria would live. Daphne would have the life she deserved. And in return, he'd have a wife who understood the complexities of power and wasn't naive about the world they lived in.

It was, all things considered, a fair exchange.

And if somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry acknowledged that part of him was genuinely interested in getting to know Daphne beyond the political arrangement, well, that was nobody's business but his own.

The future stretched out ahead of them, complicated and uncertain but full of possibilities. Harry had built an empire through careful planning and strategic moves. Adding Daphne Greengrass to that empire might just be his smartest decision yet.

Time would tell.

-Break-

Back in the suite, Daphne sat curled in the armchair, her eyes never leaving Astoria's peaceful face. Her sister was breathing easily, her color already better than it had been in months. The grey undertones were gone, replaced by the healthy flush of someone who wasn't actively dying.

She'd agreed to marry Harry Potter. The reality of that decision was still sinking in, settling into her bones like a weight she'd have to carry for the rest of her life.

But as she watched Astoria sleep, truly restful sleep without pain or fear, Daphne couldn't bring herself to regret it. She'd meant what she said. The price Harry asked was nothing compared to what she'd been prepared to pay.

And maybe, just maybe, he'd been right about it being the start of something special. She didn't love him, she barely knew him really, but there was something about the way he'd held her while she broke down. Something about the gentleness in his touch contrasted with the obvious power he wielded.

He was dangerous, that much was clear. But he was also honest, and that counted for something.

Daphne reached out and took Astoria's hand, holding it gently. "I hope I made the right choice, Tori," she whispered. "I hope you'll forgive me if I didn't."

But even as she said it, she knew her sister would understand. Astoria had always understood. That was the blessing and curse of being sisters who'd only had each other for so long.

Outside the windows, Paris glittered in the darkness, beautiful and indifferent to the life changing decisions being made in its shadow. Daphne watched the lights and waited for morning, when her sister would wake to a world where she wasn't dying anymore.

Everything else, she'd figure out as it came.

-Break-

The wine glass shattered against the marble floor, red liquid spreading across white stone like blood at a crime scene.

"Nothing?" Lady Zabini's voice was soft, almost conversational. That made it infinitely more dangerous than if she'd screamed. "You're telling me that three of my best operatives have simply vanished into thin air?"

The man before her, a wiry wizard with nervous hands and sweat beading on his upper lip, nodded jerkily. "Yes, my lady. Every tracking charm we placed on them has gone dark. The emergency portkeys they carried haven't been activated. The communication mirrors are completely silent."

She turned away from him, moving toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the Tuscan countryside. The villa was her favorite of the properties she owned, isolated enough for privacy but close enough to civilization for convenience. The setting sun painted the rolling hills in shades of amber and gold, and she'd always found the view soothing after a particularly messy job.

Today it did nothing for her mood.

"What about the muggle methods?" she asked, still staring out at the landscape.

"All three stopped responding at exactly the same time. Their last known location was that yacht off the French Riviera where they were attending that party."

The Widow closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, her reflection in the window showed a woman in perfect control. Her dark hair was swept up in an elegant chignon, not a strand out of place. Her black silk dress fit her like a second skin, expensive and understated in the way only true wealth could achieve. She looked every inch the wealthy widow she pretended to be in polite society.

No one looking at her would guess she'd personally killed sixty nine people over the course of her career.

"So Potter has them," she said flatly.

"We can't be certain—"

"Don't insult my intelligence, Marco." She turned to face him, and he flinched despite himself. "They went after Potter. Potter survived, clearly. And now they're gone. The conclusion is obvious even to a child."

Marco swallowed hard. "What would you like us to do, my lady?"

"First, stop sweating all over my Persian rug. It's worth more than your annual salary." She walked past him toward the sideboard where several bottles of very expensive alcohol waited. She poured herself two fingers of cognac, not bothering to offer him any. "Second, tell me everything about Potter's movements over the past week. Where he's been, who he's seen, what properties he owns. I want a complete dossier on my desk within the hour."

"Of course, Lady Zabini." Marco started backing toward the door.

"And Marco?" She took a sip of her drink, savoring the burn. "If you bring me incomplete information, you'll join the girls wherever they've gone. Am I clear?"

"Crystal, my lady."

He practically fled the room. Lady Zabini listened to his footsteps echoing down the hallway until they faded entirely, then she returned to the window with her drink.

Three of her best assassins. Gone.

She'd trained Isabelle herself, taught the girl everything she knew about seduction and poison. Like her, Valentina and Nadia had come to her as children, orphaned by a feud that had wiped out their entire family. She'd given them purpose, direction, and most importantly, the skills to ensure no one would ever hurt them again.

They weren't just her operatives. They were her tools, honed and sharpened and perfectly suited to their purpose. And someone had taken them from her.

Her grip tightened on the glass. Harry bloody Potter.

The man who'd destroyed her son's life and sent Blaise to rot in Azkaban over a stupid teenage indiscretion. So what if he'd slept with the golden boy's girlfriend? Ginny Weasley had been willing enough, from what Blaise had told her. But Potter couldn't let it go. Couldn't accept that his precious little redhead had wanted someone else.

No, he'd manufactured evidence against her son. Had him arrested and tried and sentenced before anyone could properly investigate. And when Lady Zabini had tried to use her considerable influence to free her son, she'd found every door suddenly closed to her.

Potter had made sure of that too.

She'd visited Blaise in Azkaban three weeks ago. Her beautiful boy, her only child, had been a hollow shell of himself. The dementors had taken their toll despite Potter's supposed reforms of the prison. Blaise could barely string two sentences together anymore. He didn't recognize her half the time.

That was when she'd decided Harry Potter needed to die.

Not quickly. Not cleanly. She'd wanted him to suffer first, to feel the same helplessness and despair her son felt every day in that wretched prison. The plan had been perfect. Isabelle would seduce him, poison him, and make it look like an accident. An unfortunate tragedy that would barely make the papers beyond a sensational headline or two.

Instead, Potter had apparently survived and captured all three of her operatives.

Lady Zabini drained her glass and set it down with more force than necessary. She wouldn't abandon them. That wasn't how she operated. Everyone who worked for her knew that if they were loyal, she would move heaven and earth to protect them. It was part of why her organization functioned so smoothly. People knew their value.

But retrieving them from Potter would require more finesse than a direct assault. The man was infuriatingly powerful, and she'd clearly underestimated him. That wouldn't happen again.

She needed leverage. Something Potter actually cared about enough to trade for.

Her mind worked through possibilities as she paced the length of the room. Money wouldn't work. Potter had a bloody fortune from the Black family vaults alone. Threats were useless against someone who'd faced Voldemort and lived. Political pressure was a laughable thought.

But everyone had a weakness. Everyone had something they'd sacrifice for.

For her, it was Blaise. For Potter...

She stopped mid-stride as the thought formed in her mind.

Ginny Weasley.

The girl who'd betrayed him, who'd driven him to whatever darkness had allowed him to fabricate charges against Blaise. Potter claimed he was over her, that he'd moved on with his life. But the Black Widow had made a career out of reading people, and she knew obsession when she saw it.

Potter's revenge against Blaise had been too thorough, too vicious, too personal. That wasn't the response of someone who'd simply been hurt and moved on. That was the response of someone still bleeding from the wound.

She crossed to her desk and pulled out a leather-bound journal, flipping through pages filled with her neat handwriting. Notes on targets, on contacts, on useful information accumulated over decades of work. She found the section on the Weasley family and read through it carefully.

Ginny Weasley had worked as a Quidditch correspondent for the Daily Prophet. Still single, according to the latest information. She lived alone in a flat in London, visited her family regularly, and by all accounts had tried very hard to put her past with Potter behind her.

Perfect.

Lady Zabini pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment and began writing. She'd need to be careful with this. The Weasley girl would be suspicious of any approach, especially if it seemed connected to Potter in any way. But there were methods. There were always methods.

A kidnapping would be too crude, too obvious. Potter would respond with overwhelming force and she'd gain nothing. No, this needed to be subtle. She needed Weasley to come to her willingly, or at least to be in a position where Lady Zabini could control the situation without obvious coercion.

She tapped her quill against her lips, thinking.

The Prophet was always looking for exclusive stories, especially about war heroes. What if someone approached Weasley with information about Potter's recent activities? Something scandalous enough to be worth investigating but not so scandalous it would send her running to the Aurors. Something that would make her dig deeper, ask questions, go places she shouldn't go.

Something that would lead her right into the Widow's claws.

The plan began to take shape in her mind. She'd need a credible source, someone Weasley would trust or at least believe. Perhaps a supposed informant from Potter's past, someone claiming to have information about his war-time activities. The girl had always been curious, always been determined to prove herself as more than just Potter's ex-girlfriend.

That determination could be exploited.

Lady Zabini continued writing, her strokes becoming more confident as the details fell into place. She'd have to move quickly. Potter would be expecting retaliation, would be on guard against direct attacks. But he wouldn't expect her to target the Weasley girl, not when their relationship had ended years ago.

That was his mistake.

She finished her notes and set the quill aside, reading over what she'd written with a critical eye. It would work. It had to work. The alternative was accepting that Potter had won, that he'd taken her operatives and there was nothing she could do about it.

And that was unacceptable.

TBC.

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Chapter Text

The first thing Astoria became aware of was warmth. Not the feverish, uncomfortable heat that had plagued her for months, but genuine, comfortable warmth that seeped into her bones and made her feel safe.

The second thing was the absence of pain. For years, every breath had carried a dull ache, every movement had been accompanied by a spike of discomfort that she'd learned to hide from Daphne. Now there was nothing. Just peaceful, blessed nothing.

She opened her eyes slowly, blinking against the soft light filtering through nearby windows. Her vision swam for a moment before focusing on the face hovering above her.

"Daph?" Her voice came out hoarse and uncertain.

"I'm here." Daphne's hand found hers immediately, squeezing gently. "I'm right here, Tori."

Astoria tried to sit up but her sister's other hand pressed lightly against her shoulder, keeping her down. "Easy. You need to take it slow."

"What happened? I remember the race and then..." Astoria's brow furrowed as she tried to piece together fragmented memories. "Harry Potter was there. You were scared. We went somewhere and then everything gets fuzzy."

"You were given a sleeping draught," Daphne explained, her thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of Astoria's hand. "Do you remember anything about the curse? About how bad it had gotten?"

The younger Greengrass sister went still. "I remember feeling awful at the race. Worse than usual. And then I was sick in the bathroom." Her grey eyes widened. "Daph, I thought I was going to die right there. The pain was so intense and everything was spinning and I couldn't breathe properly."

"You were dying." Daphne's voice cracked slightly. "We were wrong about how much time you had left. It wasn't months. It was days."

Astoria's free hand moved unconsciously to her chest, pressing against the spot where the curse had always felt like a cold weight crushing her from the inside. There was nothing there now. No pressure, no cold, no sense of something wrong coiled around her heart.

"But I'm not dying now," she said slowly, hardly daring to believe it. "Am I?"

"No." Daphne's smile was watery but genuine. "You're not dying. The curse is gone. Completely gone."

"How? We tried everything. Every healer, every curse breaker, every experimental treatment. They all said it was impossible."

"Harry did it." Daphne had to pause and swallow hard before continuing. "He and Bellatrix Lestrange performed a ritual to transfer the curse to another host. You're free of it, Tori. You're going to live."

Astoria stared at her sister, trying to process the information. "Bellatrix Lestrange? As in the Death Eater? The woman who tortured people?"

"The very same." Daphne's expression was complicated. "Things are much more complex than we initially thought. Harry has an arrangement with her. She serves him completely, and before you ask, yes, that includes in his bed."

"What?" Astoria tried to sit up again and this time Daphne let her, helping to prop pillows behind her back. "I mean, I saw them kiss when we first arrived. It was shocking and I thought maybe I was hallucinating from the pain, but you're saying it was real? That they're actually together?"

"It was real," Daphne confirmed. "And yes, they're together. Though 'together' doesn't quite capture the full scope of their relationship. It's more complicated than that."

"How does Harry Potter end up with Bellatrix Lestrange as his subordinate and lover?"

Before Daphne could answer, the door opened and the woman herself swept into the room. Astoria tensed reflexively but found that the terror she'd felt upon seeing Bellatrix when they'd first arrived here had dulled considerably. The dark-haired witch looked nothing like the mad creature from the war. Her movements were graceful rather than erratic, her expression focused rather than unhinged.

"Good, you're awake." Bellatrix approached the bed with a smile. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm... fine, I think?" Astoria glanced at her sister uncertainly. "Better than I have in years actually."

"Excellent." Bellatrix drew her wand and Astoria fought the urge to flinch away. "I need to run some diagnostic spells to assess your recovery. This won't hurt."

The tip of her wand traced patterns in the air above Astoria's body, leaving trails of soft golden light. Runes appeared and floated, their meaning incomprehensible to Astoria but apparently clear to Bellatrix, whose eyes tracked each symbol as it manifested and faded.

The process took several minutes. Astoria watched the older witch's face carefully, trying to read her expression for any sign of bad news. But Bellatrix simply looked thoughtful, occasionally humming to herself as she made mental notes.

Finally, she lowered her wand and the last of the runes dissipated. "The curse is completely gone, as expected. No traces remain in your magical core or your physical body. However, the damage it caused over the years is still present."

"What kind of damage?" Daphne asked sharply.

"Nothing life threatening anymore," Bellatrix assured them. "But her magical core has been significantly weakened. It'll take time to recover, possibly several months of rest and specialized potions. She'll be able to perform basic magic within a few weeks, but anything more demanding will be beyond her for a while."

Astoria absorbed this information with mixed feelings. Not being able to properly use magic was frustrating, but it was a small price to pay for being alive. "Will I recover fully? Eventually?"

"Yes. Your core is young and resilient. Given proper care and time, you should regain full magical capability." Bellatrix's expression softened slightly. "You're very lucky. Most victims of blood curses don't survive to see treatment, let alone recovery."

"I know." Astoria's voice came out small. She looked down at her hands, tears beginning to well in her eyes. "Thank you. For what you did. For helping to save my life."

"Don't thank me," Bellatrix said firmly. "Thank my Master. This was all his doing. I simply assisted in the ritual."

"Your Master," Astoria repeated, the words feeling strange in her mouth. She looked up at Bellatrix with undisguised curiosity. "Harry Potter is your Master. You serve him completely. You're lovers. And apparently you're happy with this arrangement?"

Bellatrix's smile transformed her entire face. "More than happy. Ecstatic. My Master gave me purpose when I had nothing left. He gave me protection, care, and yes, pleasure beyond anything I'd experienced in my previous life. Serving him isn't a burden. It's a privilege."

"But you're Bellatrix Lestrange," Astoria said, still trying to wrap her mind around it. "You were one of Voldemort's most devoted followers. You killed people. You tortured families. And now you're just... happy being Harry Potter's mistress?"

"I was devoted to a false master who saw me as nothing more than a useful tool," Bellatrix replied, her voice taking on a harder edge. "Someone who valued my skills but never valued me. My Master is different. He sees me. He understands what I need and provides it. He commands me and I obey gladly because I know he has my best interests at heart even when giving difficult orders."

She moved closer to the bed, her dark eyes intense. "You think submission means weakness. It doesn't. True submission requires more strength than most people possess. It means trusting someone else with your wellbeing completely. It means accepting that they know what's best for you even when you don't understand their reasoning. And in return, you receive a freedom most people never experience. The freedom from constant decision making, from worrying about tomorrow, from carrying burdens alone."

Astoria listened with wide eyes. This wasn't what she'd expected at all. Bellatrix spoke with such conviction, such genuine contentment, that it was impossible to doubt her sincerity.

"Of course, the sex is phenomenal too," Bellatrix added with a wicked grin, and Astoria felt heat rush to her cheeks. "But that's just a pleasant bonus to an already perfect arrangement."

She turned to Daphne, who had been listening silently. "Your sister will explain the rest. I need to check on a few things for Master, but I'll be back later with more potions for your recovery."

Bellatrix placed her hand on Daphne's shoulder, giving her a gentle and supportive squeeze. Daphne reached up and squeezed Bellatrix's arm in return, offering a small but genuine smile.

"Thank you, Bella."

"Always happy to help, darling."

With that, Bellatrix swept out of the room, leaving the two sisters alone. Astoria stared at the closed door for several seconds before slowly turning to look at Daphne.

"Did you just call Bellatrix Lestrange 'Bella'? And she called you 'darling'? What in Merlin's name happened while I was unconscious?"

Daphne sighed and settled back into the armchair beside the bed. "A lot. More than you'd believe. And before you ask, yes, I'm going to tell you everything. You deserve to know."

"Everything?" Astoria prompted when her sister seemed to be gathering her thoughts.

"Everything," Daphne confirmed. She took a deep breath. "Harry brought us here after we met him at the race. He'd been looking for us specifically. Pansy Parkinson told him where we might be."

"Parkinson? That cow told him where to find us?"

"She works for him now. Or serves him, I suppose would be more accurate given what I've learned. She's part of his network of women." Daphne held up a hand when Astoria opened her mouth. "Let me finish before you start asking questions."

She explained everything. The arrival at the suite, seeing Bellatrix and nearly attacking her before Harry stopped her. The kiss between Harry and Bellatrix that had shocked both sisters speechless. The conversation about their situation and Harry's offer to save Astoria's life.

"He made me an offer," Daphne said quietly. "He would cure you completely, no questions asked, no payment required upfront. But he wanted something in return. He wanted me to become his wife."

Astoria's jaw dropped. "His wife? But why? He could have anyone. Why track us down specifically just to..."

"Political reasons mainly," Daphne explained. "Having a pureblood Slytherin as his wife, someone who fled during the war and is now returning home with him, creates a powerful narrative about unity and healing old wounds. Plus I'm intelligent enough to navigate high society and understand the old families without being beholden to their prejudices."

"That's so calculated."

"It is. And he was completely honest about it. That's what surprised me most. He could have lied, could have pretended it was something romantic, but he told me exactly why he wanted to marry me and what he expected from the arrangement."

Astoria processed this, her mind working through the implications. "What kind of arrangement? What does he expect?"

Daphne met her sister's eyes steadily. "He has other women. Multiple women in various roles and capacities. Some are subordinates like Bellatrix who serve him completely including sexually. Others are companions or partners in different ways. He's not going to give them up and he's not going to hide them from me. If I marry him, I marry into that reality."

"Daph, no." Astoria's voice broke. "You can't. You always hated the idea of being trapped in a loveless pureblood marriage. You swore you'd never be like Mother, turning a blind eye while Father did whatever he wanted. And now you're agreeing to exactly that?"

"It's different."

"How is it different? He's asking you to accept him having mistresses. That's exactly what Father did to Mother."

"Father lied." Daphne's voice was firm. "He pretended to be faithful while sneaking off to brothels and having affairs with other pureblood wives. Mother knew but couldn't say anything because that's how things worked in their world. Everyone maintained the illusion of propriety while carrying on whatever they wanted behind closed doors."

She leaned forward, needing her sister to understand. "Harry isn't doing that. He told me the truth upfront. He's not going to keep his women on the side and pretend they don't exist. He's not going to lie about where he is or who he's with. Yes, he'll have other women, but at least I'll know about it. I'll know exactly what the situation is instead of being kept in the dark like Mother was."

"But Daph..." Astoria's eyes were glistening with unshed tears. "You deserve better than this. You deserve someone who loves only you. Someone who'll be faithful. This isn't fair."

"Nothing about our lives has been fair," Daphne said gently. "We fled our home and lived as fugitives for years. We watched you slowly die from a curse you did nothing to deserve. Fair stopped being relevant a long time ago. What matters now is making the best choice with the options available."

"The options being marry Harry Potter and accept his harem or watch me die?"

"Don't." Daphne's voice turned sharp. "Don't you dare make this about guilt. You didn't ask for any of this. The curse wasn't your fault. And I'm not sacrificing myself for you. I'm making a choice that benefits both of us."

"How can you say that?" Astoria demanded, her voice rising. "Everything you're giving up is because of me. If I didn't have the curse, if I wasn't dying, you never would have agreed to this. You'd still be free to find someone who actually loves you. This is absolutely a sacrifice."

"You're right that I wouldn't have agreed to this arrangement if you weren't dying," Daphne admitted. "But that doesn't make it a sacrifice. Tori, listen to me. Do you remember what I was prepared to do to save you?"

Astoria shook her head, confused by the shift in topic.

"I was prepared to die," Daphne said simply. "If some ritual required my life in exchange for yours, I would have given it without hesitation. If some dark artifact needed a sacrifice to cure you, I would have volunteered immediately. I was ready to give up everything including my existence to keep you alive."

She reached out and took her sister's hand. "Compared to that, marrying Harry Potter is nothing. I get to live. You get to live. We both get protection from anyone who might want to harm us. We get resources and status and a chance at actually building proper lives instead of constantly running and hiding. Yes, I have to share my husband with other women, but I'm alive to do it. You're alive to see it. That's not a sacrifice, Tori. That's a gift."

Astoria was crying openly now. "But you deserve to be happy. You deserve someone who'll love you the way you deserve to be loved."

"Maybe I do," Daphne said softly. "But we don't always get what we deserve, do we? Life doesn't work that way. We get what we can make from the circumstances we're given. And honestly, after everything we've been through, I could do a lot worse than Harry Potter."

"How can you be okay with this?"

Daphne was quiet for a long moment, staring out the windows at the Parisian skyline. When she spoke again, her voice was thoughtful. "I don't know if I'm okay with it yet. But I think I could be. After Harry left and you were still unconscious, Bella and I talked. I was curious about how things worked in Harry's life, about the other women and the dynamics between them all. And she was surprisingly forthcoming."

"What did she tell you?"

"That there's a hierarchy of sorts but it's not based on competition or jealousy. Harry has women who serve him completely like Bella and Narcissa. They've sworn themselves to him and they're genuinely happy with that arrangement. Then there are others in different roles, companions or partners in various capacities. And apparently I'm meant to be his wife, which puts me in yet another category."

Astoria frowned. "That sounds incredibly complicated."

"It is complicated," Daphne agreed. "But it's also structured. There are rules and expectations and everyone apparently knows where they stand. Bella said the women don't fight over Harry's attention because he makes sure everyone's needs are met. She said jealousy isn't really an issue because they all understand what they signed up for."

"And you believe that?"

"I don't know what I believe yet," Daphne admitted. "But Bella had no reason to lie to me. If anything, she could have scared me off if she'd wanted to. Instead she was honest about how things work and told me not to rush into anything. She said I'd get the hang of it gradually, that I should take my time adjusting to the reality of the situation."

She turned back to her sister. "The more I learn about this arrangement, the more curious I become. Yes, a part of me was offended when Harry first proposed marriage despite already having other women. But after talking to him and Bella and understanding how everything actually works, I find myself genuinely interested in seeing where this goes."

"You're interested?" Astoria's voice held disbelief. "In being part of some wealthy wizard's harem?"

"I'm interested in being part of something that's honest," Daphne corrected. "Think about it, Tori. Every pureblood marriage we knew growing up was a lie. Father with his brothels and affairs. Mother with her female companions that everyone pretended not to notice. The Parkinsons, the Notts, the Malfoys even, all of them maintaining facades of perfect marriages while carrying on however they pleased behind closed doors."

She gestured around the suite. "This is different. Harry's not pretending. He's not maintaining a facade. He's telling me upfront that this is who he is and this is what his life looks like. And if I can't accept it, he's willing to give me time to adjust rather than forcing me into something I'm not ready for. That's more consideration than any pureblood husband would have given."

Astoria wiped at her tears with her free hand. "I still feel like this is my fault. Like you're being forced into this because of me."

"You're not listening," Daphne said gently. "I'm not being forced. I'm choosing this. Yes, the circumstances that led to this choice involve your curse, but the choice itself is mine. And honestly? I think it could work out better than either of us expects."

"How can you say that?"

"Because Harry Potter is not the man I thought he was," Daphne said slowly. "The boy I heard about at Hogwarts was noble and heroic and somewhat naive. This man is powerful and confident and surprisingly honest about what he wants. He held me while I broke down crying over your situation. He was gentle when he could have been harsh. He made me a promise and then kept it immediately rather than stringing me along."

She paused, considering her next words carefully. "There's something about him that makes me want to trust him. I can't explain it rationally. Maybe it's foolish given everything we know about him now. But when he touches me, when he looks at me, I believe he means what he says. He won't betray me by hiding things. He'll have his mistresses and his subordinates and whatever else, but he'll be honest about it. And somehow that makes it bearable."

Astoria studied her sister's face, seeing the genuine thoughtfulness there. "Are you sure you're not just trying to convince yourself because you feel like you have no choice?"

"I'm sure," Daphne said firmly. "I've had time to think about this. If I truly couldn't accept it, I would tell you right now and we'd figure out another solution together. But the truth is, after talking to Bella and thinking about what this arrangement actually means, I'm more curious than apprehensive. I want to see how this plays out. I want to understand the dynamics between all these women and find my place in them. Is that strange?"

"Incredibly strange," Astoria said softly, before a hint of smile emerged on her face. "But then again, when has anything about our lives been normal?"

"Exactly." Daphne squeezed her hand. "So stop feeling guilty. You didn't force this on me. If anything, your curse gave me an opportunity I might not have had otherwise. I'm going to be Lady Potter. The wife of the most powerful wizard alive. That's more than I ever expected for myself when we were running around Europe trying to stay hidden."

"Lady Potter," Astoria repeated, testing the name. "It does have a nice ring to it."

"See? You're coming around already."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Astoria spoke again. "Are you going to tell me about the other women? Who they are, how many there are, that sort of thing?"

"Eventually," Daphne promised. "But right now you need to rest and recover. We'll have plenty of time to discuss the complicated details of my future husband's personal life later. Besides, I don't know all the details myself yet. Bella gave me an overview but there's a lot I still need to learn."

"Fair enough." Astoria settled back against the pillows, suddenly aware of how tired she still felt. "Daph? Are you truly happy with how things worked out? Not just accepting it because you have to, but actually satisfied with the outcome?"

Daphne considered the question seriously. "I would have preferred to be the only woman in my husband's life. I won't pretend otherwise. But life doesn't always give us ideal situations. We work with what we have. And what I have is a husband who's honest about his nature, who saved your life without hesitation, who treats his women well from what I can tell, and who has the power to protect us from anyone who might want to harm us. Could it be better? Yes. Could it be a lot worse? Absolutely. So yes, I'm satisfied with how things worked out. I think I can make this work. I think I might even come to enjoy it."

"You're a better person than I am," Astoria said quietly.

"No, I'm just older and more tired of fighting impossible battles," Daphne replied with a small smile. "Now stop worrying about me and focus on getting better. That's your only job right now."

"I can manage that," Astoria agreed. Her eyelids were already drooping. "But Daph? Thank you. For everything. For never giving up on me. For finding a way to save me even when it seemed impossible. I know I don't say it enough but I love you."

"I love you too, Tori." Daphne's voice was thick with emotion. "More than anything in this world."

She summoned several vials of healing potions from where Bellatrix had left them and helped Astoria drink each one. The younger girl made faces at the taste but swallowed obediently. Within minutes, her breathing had evened out and she'd drifted off into peaceful sleep.

Daphne remained in the armchair, watching her sister sleep with a sense of contentment she hadn't felt in years. Astoria's color was good, her breathing unlabored, and the peaceful expression on her face was genuine rather than the forced calm she'd maintained while suffering. For the first time in what felt like forever, Daphne allowed herself to truly relax.

They were going to be okay. More than okay. They were going to thrive.

-Break-

The stadium roared with excitement as the Montrose Magpies completed their practice session. Ginny Weasley stood on the sidelines, her notebook filled with observations and her Quick Quotes Quill hovering nearby in case she needed to capture a quote verbatim. She'd been covering the Magpies for a feature piece about their new training regimen, and today was her chance to interview the team captain.

Malcolm Preece cut an impressive figure as he approached. He was built like the Beater he was, all broad shoulders and powerful arms that suggested he could send a Bludger clear across the pitch without breaking a sweat. His dark hair was damp with exertion and his practice robes clung to his muscular frame in ways that Ginny definitely noticed.

She'd dressed carefully for this interview. Her skirt hit mid-thigh, just short enough to draw attention without being inappropriate for a professional setting. Her blouse was silk and fitted, the top two buttons undone to show just a hint of cleavage. Heels added three inches to her height and made her legs look fantastic. She knew exactly what she was doing.

"Mr. Preece," she greeted him with a warm smile. "Thank you for taking the time to speak with me."

"Call me Malcolm," he said, his eyes doing that thing men's eyes did when they were trying not to be obvious about checking her out and failing completely. "Happy to talk to the Prophet. Especially when they send someone as lovely as you."

Ginny smiled at the compliment, filing it away as the kind of harmless flirtation she'd become accustomed to in her line of work. "You're too kind. Now, I wanted to ask about the new training program. Your performance this season has been exceptional. What would you attribute that to?"

They fell into easy conversation. Malcolm was surprisingly articulate when discussing Quidditch strategy, and Ginny found herself genuinely interested in his insights. But she also didn't miss the way his gaze kept drifting to her legs, or how he leaned in slightly closer whenever she laughed at one of his jokes.

"The key is building team cohesion," Malcolm explained, gesturing expressively. "Individual skill only gets you so far. You need to trust that your teammates will be where they're supposed to be when you need them."

"Trust is so important," Ginny agreed, crossing her legs and watching Malcolm's eyes track the movement. "In Quidditch and in life."

"Absolutely." His smile widened. "You played for Holyhead, didn't you? Before you moved into journalism?"

"I did. Chaser for three seasons."

"I remember watching you play. You were brilliant on the pitch. Fast, aggressive, not afraid to take risks."

"I like taking risks," Ginny said, her voice dropping slightly. "They make life more interesting."

The double meaning was not lost on either of them. Malcolm's grin turned decidedly wolfish. "They certainly do."

Ginny asked a few more questions, all the while maintaining the flirtatious energy that made interviews with male athletes so much easier. She knew what she was doing and she was good at it. A little attention, a few smiles, some subtle body language, and men would tell her things they'd never share with a male journalist.

Finally, she closed her notebook and stood. "Thank you so much for your time, Malcolm. This has been incredibly helpful."

"My pleasure." He stood as well, towering over her despite her heels. "If you need any follow up information, you know where to find me."

"I'll keep that in mind," Ginny said with a smile that promised absolutely nothing while somehow suggesting a lot. "Good luck with the Vultures this weekend."

She walked away, very aware that Malcolm was watching her go. She added just a hint of sway to her hips, knowing his eyes were glued to her arse. It was petty and probably unprofessional, but it felt good to be desired. It always did.

The hotel room the Prophet had booked for her was decent. Not luxurious by any means, but clean and comfortable with a proper bed and an en suite bathroom. Ginny locked the door behind her and kicked off her heels with a sigh of relief. She loved how they made her legs look but bloody hell were they murder on her feet.

She poured herself a glass of wine from the minibar and sank onto the bed, reviewing her notes from the interview. Malcolm had given her some good material for the article. She'd need to flesh it out with quotes from other team members, but the captain's perspective would be the centerpiece.

Her mind wandered as she sipped her wine. Malcolm had been handsome, there was no denying it. That body had been honed through years of professional Quidditch and it showed. She found herself wondering what those strong hands would feel like on her skin, how it would feel to have all that power and muscle pressing her down into the mattress.

The thought sent heat pooling low in her belly. Ginny set her wine glass aside and lay back on the bed, her hand drifting down to rest on her stomach. It had been too long since she'd properly indulged herself. Work kept her busy and dating had proven complicated. Men either wanted to sleep with Harry Potter's ex-girlfriend for bragging rights or they were intimidated by her entirely. Either way, actual relationships never seemed to work out. It was so unfortunate that Blaise was no longer an option either.

But she could still enjoy herself in private.

Ginny slipped her hand beneath her skirt, fingers tracing patterns on her inner thigh. She closed her eyes and let her mind drift back to the stadium. Malcolm's powerful frame. His dark eyes watching her legs. The way his Quidditch robes had clung to his chest and shoulders.

In her imagination, the interview took a different turn. Malcolm's hand on her knee. His voice dropping to a husky whisper. The two of them finding an empty locker room where he'd press her against the wall and kiss her like he'd been thinking about it all afternoon.

Her fingers slipped beneath her knickers, finding herself already wet. She stroked herself slowly, building the sensation gradually as her fantasy elaborated. Malcolm's hands would be strong, confident. He'd know exactly what he was doing. He'd lift her easily, wrap her legs around his waist, and take her right there against the wall while anyone could walk in and catch them.

Ginny's breathing quickened. Her other hand moved to her breast, kneading roughly through the silk of her blouse. In her mind, Malcolm was joined by the Seeker. Then the other Beater. Multiple hands exploring her body, multiple voices telling her how beautiful she was, how much they wanted her.

She imagined herself on her knees surrounded by hard bodies and harder cocks. Imagined hands in her hair, gripping her hips, fingers spreading her open. Imagined being eaten out by one from behind while another filled her mouth and others waited their turn. It was dirty and degrading and absolutely thrilling.

Her fingers moved faster, circling her clit and pressing just right. She was close, could feel the orgasm building like a wave about to crest. In her fantasy, Malcolm finally positioned himself behind her, his hands gripping her hips as he prepared to enter her. She could almost feel the blunt pressure of him pressing against her entrance.

And then everything shattered.

Malcolm's face dissolved, replaced by green eyes and messy black hair. The fantasy locker room warped into an office she recognized all too well. And suddenly it wasn't Malcolm about to take her but Harry, his hands on her hips, his voice in her ear.

"Did you really think you could fuck another man?" Harry's voice was cold and possessive, each word dripping with disdain. "How fucking foolish are you, Ginny?"

"Harry, I..." Her protest died in her throat as dream Harry grabbed her hair, yanking her head back.

"There's no other cock for you. Not now. Not ever. You're mine, Ginevra. Every part of you belongs to me whether you want to admit it or not."

"Harry, you're—" she tried to say, but dream Harry's other hand clamped over her mouth.

"Shut up. I don't want to hear your pathetic excuses." He thrust into her roughly and she cried out against his palm. "This cunt belongs to me. These tits belong to me. This mouth belongs to me. Every inch of you is mine to use as I please."

He fucked her hard, each thrust driving deeper than the last. One hand still gripped her hair painfully while the other moved to her throat, squeezing just enough to make breathing difficult. She should have been terrified. Should have been fighting back. Instead, she felt herself growing impossibly wetter.

"Look at you," Harry's voice was cruel, mocking. "You're getting off on this. You like being degraded. You like being reminded that you're nothing but a set of holes for me to use."

"Please," she whimpered, not even sure what she was begging for.

"Please what? Please fuck you harder? Please make you come like the desperate little slut you are?"

His words should have made her angry. Should have snapped her out of the fantasy. Instead, they pushed her higher, closer to the edge. The degradation mixed with the physical sensation until she couldn't separate one from the other.

"That's right," dream Harry growled. "Come for me. Show me what a good whore you are."

In reality, Ginny's fingers worked frantically between her legs. Her hips lifted off the bed, chasing the sensation. The fantasy consumed her completely, Harry's voice and touch feeling impossibly real. She was dimly aware that she was crying out, making noises that anyone in neighboring rooms would definitely hear, but she couldn't stop.

The orgasm hit her like a thunderbolt. Her back arched, her thighs clamped around her hand, and a loud cry tore from her throat. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her, each one more intense than the last. It went on forever, her body shaking with the force of it.

When she finally came down, she was gasping for breath and covered in sweat. Her hand was soaked, her knickers completely ruined. She lay there trembling, trying to process what had just happened.

That had been so hot. Harry degrading her, treating her like property, that should have made her furious. And yet she was still unbelievably aroused. Her hand moved almost unconsciously back between her legs and she hissed at how sensitive everything was.

She and Harry had split up years ago. She had moved on with her life. She had been with Blaise, slept with him and a few other men, and built a career completely independent of Harry. She shouldn't still be fantasizing about him, especially not like that.

But that day in his office had happened, and since then, he kept coming into her wildest fantasies, always treating her like a degraded slut, always making her love how it felt.

Her fingers circled her clit again, gentle this time. The touch sent sparks through her oversensitized nerves. She thought about Harry's hands instead of her own. About his voice telling her she belonged to him. About him using her however he pleased.

The arousal built again shockingly quickly. Ginny bit her lip hard enough to taste blood, trying to stay quiet this time. But then she froze, her hand stilling completely.

There was a sound outside her door. Something that didn't belong in the normal hotel corridor noise. A footstep, maybe. Or the rustle of fabric.

Ginny sat up slowly, all arousal evaporating instantly as her paranoia took over. She strained to hear anything unusual. The hotel was quiet at this hour, most guests already settled in for the night. But there was something off. A presence she couldn't quite identify.

She grabbed her wand from the nightstand and pulled her knickers back in place, quickly fixing her disheveled state, to moderate success. Her heart hammered as she approached the door on silent feet. Maybe she was being paranoid. Maybe it was just her imagination running wild after that intense fantasy. But she couldn't shake this gut feeling that something was wrong.

Ginny pressed her ear against the door, listening intently. Nothing at first. Then she heard it again. Definitely movement. Someone was out there.

She whispered a quiet "Homenum Revelio" and waited for the spell to register any human presence outside her door. Nothing. The spell came back negative. But that meant nothing to someone skilled enough to counter basic detection charms. If anything, it made her more suspicious.

Her hand closed around the doorknob. She took a breath, steadying herself, then yanked the door open with her wand thrust forward.

Something slammed into her chest before she could register what it was. The impact drove the air from her lungs and sent her flying backward. Her back collided with the wall hard enough that she saw stars. The wand fell from her nerveless fingers, clattering across the floor.

Through blurred vision, she saw the door swing shut. A figure moved in the shadows of her room but her eyes wouldn't focus properly. She tried to call out, tried to reach for her wand, tried to do anything, but her body wouldn't cooperate.

The last thing she registered before darkness claimed her was a vial being pressed to her lips and bitter liquid burning down her throat. Then the world went black and Ginny Weasley knew nothing at all.

TBC.

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