Harry swore softly as tore out another weed, his magic made the matter childishly easy but it still annoyed him to be doing such menial labor again. It was a startling contrast, going from the adoration of the magical world to the sneers and hatred of Privet Drive.
He had agreed with Mistress Andromeda to return one last time to the Dursley's, his freedom was so close that he could taste it, making it was pointless to antagonize Dumbledore right before it. So, he had swallowed his pride and returned to a place he had now learned to hate.
He could only shake his head at the philosophy Dumbledore kept trying to push at him, about how important and good the muggles were. Harry completely disagreed, and honestly, looking back at his life he didn't understand what the old wizard was smoking if he thought he out of all people would support him. The Dursley's had treated him like utter shit since the day he showed up at their door, their abuse stretching through the years.
Even at the Muggle School he was ostracized by his peers. Granted it was mostly Dudley's doing but that did not absolve the rest of them. All the people in the neighborhood had naturally swallowed whatever lies the Dursley's had spread about him, calling him an incurable criminal and what else.
Was it little wonder Harry Potter considered the muggles little more than cockroaches after suffering at their beck and call for a decade, only to be hero-worshipped by the magical world the moment he entered it? Hardly. The only exception to the rule he had seen so far were Hermione's parents, but he had only spoken to them a handful of times.
At least he took great pleasure in needling the Dursley's now that he had enough power to stand up for himself. He had visited London to buy himself a new wardrobe, not fearing the repercussions of his so-called family in that matter anymore.
The seller at the store had looked down his nose at him until he had flashed the black credit card the goblins had given him after the sale of the basilisk. Judging by the way his eyes had widened and how eager he had become to serve; Harry assumed the credit limit on the card bordered on the ridiculous.
Walking around in his new clothes around Privet Drive had however provided great entertainment. His polite demeanor and clearly expensive clothes made more than one people raise their eyebrows, knowing such things were outside of what the Dursley's could afford.
He could almost feel the way people started questioning the rumors of his so-called criminality from the moment they had interacted with him. People were ridiculously shallow; Harry knew that better than most.
The Dursley's had naturally thrown a hissy fit when they saw his clothes, Dudley wailing like a little girl when he realized 'the freak' had something better than him. Vernon had loudly demanded to know where he had got the money for the clothes, greed shining in his pig eyes.
Harry's succinct answer of telling him to go fuck himself had briefly stunned the house before the fat man had become enraged, a shade of puce colouring his oily skin as made to swing at him. Harry tensed for a second; memories of how the man had terrorized him as a child flashing through his mind, before he engaged his Occlumency and truly observed the whale-like man. Compared to the bombardment of spells from Madam Bones his arm might as well have been moving through glue.
A sinister smirk spread on his face has easily caught the fist in his hand, startling him for a second before he started shrieking. Harry kept the smirk up as he increased the pressure, his magical digits like steel as they crushed the meaty hand. Joints snapped out of place, tendons surrendered, bones cracked and skin broke as his hand deflated like an overripe apple someone had stepped on.
Vernon collapsed to his knees, feebly wailing and attempting to fend him off but his mangled flesh was locked in a grip that could bend steel. When he finally did release him, he knew that it was the last attempt any of the filthy swine would make towards him. Petunia had paled when he met her eyes. Oh, they knew their little fun was over.
A large part of him wanted to rip out his wand and make them suffer for every slight against him, yet his Occlumency fended off the thought. He would have his revenge, but not today.
Looking at the amorphous blob of wailing fat that lied on the floor cradling its bleeding fist, Harry truly did understand why Voldemort had been able to gather such a following. When Salazar Slytherin had originally preached against muggles people had mostly politely agreed, yet few of them took him seriously.
Muggles at the time were ridiculously primitive and no one honestly even considered the thought of them being a threat. Sure, if they got caught unawares, they might be in trouble, but with the help of wards no such thing really happened. And really, the muggles had discovered black powder some time during the seventh century, yet it took them until 1450 to make the first matchlock gun. It took them almost another half a millennium to make a gun that fired at a somewhat decent pace. Wizards considered the whole process proof of how slow the muggles were.
Of course, Wizarding Britain was in for a rude awakening when the First World War broke out. The muggles which they had considered little more than advanced beasts were suddenly dropping ton after ton of explosives all over their country. At first people thought they had gone to war with the magicals, but the truth turned out to be even more terrifying.
They were accidentally killing magical people while fighting each other. For most it was utterly inconceivable, the stories told about mad muggles running around with torches trying to burn witches, yet now they were desperately reinforcing the wards around their homes to protect against forces even explosive charms could not match. Luckily the slow Zeppelins and early planes were rather easily destroyed simply by riding a broom up to them and throwing a few well aimed hexes. Magical Britain had prevailed, yet their eyes had been brutally opened.
It was during this time that Salazar's message began to gain more ground. What had been considered more of a joke than anything else was now taken as a prophetic message, warning the magicals of the threat of the muggles. The fact that the Slytherin house in Hogwarts had never let a muggleborn in was also noted; bringing great pride to the purebloods that had been Slytherins. Peace was however kept as the damage was minimal, but the seeds of suspicion had taken root.
The muggleborns' themselves did nothing to help the situation, making fun of wizarding traditions, calling the magical world a stuck-up backwards place. They disrespected anything and everything around them, yet they had the nerve to cry out when they got the same treatment from the wizards. Discrimination they shouted, how can you do this to another person they asked, happily ignoring the way they themselves discriminated among each other in every possible way.
Muggles managed to hate each other and start wars over caste, colour, religion, country, wealth, birth right, sexuality, just about anything one could think of, yet they had the nerve to call the magical world backwards when they got the same treatment.
Nothing however could have prepared the magicals for the Second World War. On 7 September 1940 Hermann Göring initiated The Blitz, a gigantic bombing raid aimed at causing panic in Britain. According to a press notice the Luftwaffe released later they dropped 1,000,000 kilograms of bombs on London in twenty-four hours.
Sheer panic spread among the magicals as bombs suddenly broke through their wards, ripping apart wizards and witches as easily as the darkest of arts. What good was a magical shield when hit with an explosive that could level an entire block. It was little surprise that for the first time in history the magical world assisted the muggle world in their war, yet they were once again shocked when they found out they were not the only ones.
The Dark Lord Grindelwald had happily taken advantage of Germany to manufacture his own incredible rise to power. His story was however cut short by one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore who would later become an icon for the whole magical community.
During all this, one Tom Marvolo Riddle arrived at Hogwarts during the end of the summer 1938. Sorted into Slytherin his cunning and ability quickly drew attention, people flocking to his power as magicals tended to. Having grown up in an abusive orphanage he gladly spoke of his hatred towards muggles, a message that was gladly received by the children around him as their parents and family died during the bombings by the 'cursed filth'.
By the time Dumbledore returned to Hogwarts in 1945 Tom was already a seventh year, the prince of Slytherin house with a staunch following of people who felt the same as he did. Dumbledore's hopes of the end of the war cooling hot heads were in vain when the news spread about how it had ended. The muggles had a bomb. A bomb which could level entire cities.
Incredulity gave way to fear, which in turn gave way to hatred. A surge of anger rose against the muggles, more and more purebloods happily passing one law after another that limited the muggleborns as much as possible. Never before had The International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy been reinforced as harshly.
During this time Tom Marvolo Riddle disappeared, yet only a few years later whispers of a new Dark Lord were heard in the darkest pubs. Whispers of his travels around the world and his mastery of the darkest arts drawing more than one shudder, or excited shiver depending on who you asked. When almost ten years later he appeared on British soil, more than one old pure-blooded Lord wished to use the 'young and naive man' to their advantage.
Voldemort ever cunning; happily, let them think he was their puppet, drawing on their funds and influence and increasing the number of followers he had. Muggles suddenly started dying, muggleborns were disappearing and a tinge of panic was spreading. The whispers of Voldemort grew ever louder, yet because his followers always wore masks no one could tell who was an enemy or a friend. This only increased the paranoia, leaving the Ministry helpless as his followers had already infiltrated their ranks.
The old blood wanted a meeting with him and his followers to stop him from doing anything stupid. After all, they might dislike muggles but they disliked losing their power even more. Voldemort gladly agreed, showing up at the meeting dressed in the most impressive of Slytherin robes. It was there he displayed what his inner circle already knew, the Slytherin ring on his finger, showing off his status to the entire world.
More than one Lord shouted in outrage at the deception, challenging him to a duel. With a cold smirk he agreed, for the first-time allowing Britain to see what he truly was. It was no duel, it was slaughter. Like a cat that played with their prey he played with powerful men, throwing them around as they slowly realized that he was no longer a man, he was a monster.
After that night he came out in public to lead his raids, something that sent a fresh wave of terror across the country. Almost no wizard or witch could match him, his immense power and skill always leading to success. The only beacon the Light side had was Albus Dumbledore, the only wizard capable of facing the Dark Lord.
Yet stopping him half the time meant little when his followers succeeded everywhere else, destroying the very foundation that made up magical Britain. More people switched sides as they saw the end looming, hoping to at least be one of the winners when it all came down.
Of course, Harry thought; that is until his mother decided to outwit the Darkest Lord of the century. He smiled wryly as he walked up to his room, there was something painfully funny about a muggleborn outsmarting the heir of Slytherin, making him blow himself up on a little babe. 'Confidence is good but overconfidence leads to downfall' Mistress Narcissa used to say, wonder if Voldemort has learned that lesson by now.
Checking his watch, he swore softly, he needed to get moving. He had contacted Mistress Narcissa through owl, asking her to meet him as he really needed to talk to her. The tutorship contract would formally end as he claimed his titles, but he was hoping she would agree to more tutoring.
Twice now her teachings had saved his life, not to mention how many other times they had helped him. Opening his closet, he was very thankful for his new wardrobe, as Mistress Narcissa had suggested they meet at a very high-class muggle restaurant. Showing up in his old clothes would not have made a very good impression on her.
As he undressed for the shower, he couldn't help admiring his body in the mirror, the changes he was going through were very nice indeed. He had almost fulfilled his three weeks at the Dursley's, yet the image in the mirror definitively suggested it had been a longer time since he arrived.
The same way muscles, skin and ligaments would stretch around bones; Harry's body was stretching around his magic. He had noticed it during the spring yet it showed no signs of slowing down, his magic was fueling his hormones, increasing growth in all directions. He had focused on eating a very protein heavy diet to allow his muscles to grow, feasting on meat, eggs, various milk products and fish, yet the results still surprised him.
No normal man or wizard-built muscles this fast, his condition was practically a steroid users wet dream, his body growing more defined by each week that went by. What baffled him was the fact that he did very little heavy lifting, the growth should be an impossibility, yet the swimmer's body he was developing didn't seem to care one whit about that. He did appreciate it, especially the fact that he was still growing taller. It was much harder for a shorter man to appear imposing than it was for a tall one. Unfair, but a simple fact.
He chuckled softly as he looked at his hairless body, he wasn't sure if he should blame or thank Mistress Narcissa for that. Having grown so used to it he saw no point of reversing the curse anymore, as far as he knew no women close to him had ever spoken negatively about the fact, on the opposite they seemed to enjoy the smooth skin.
Flexing his shoulder, he felt the tightly coiled magic rolling within, it felt almost over charged ever since the inclusion of the Slytherin magic. It was quite funny to consider that Voldemort's Horcrux had in fact helped him in so many ways, not only the gifts it provided but the simple fact that it had siphoned off his magic for a decade, providing a twisted form of resistance training for his core.
Most children never even touched their core consciously, Harry's had been in constant use ever since the day he reflected the Killing Curse. Strange how he had been made so much stronger by the man determined to kill him.
XXX
Twenty minutes later he exited the Knight Bus on wobbly legs, really looking forward to both learning and being able to use apparition as a form of travel. He swallowed the bile his roiling stomach kept trying to push up and strode towards the fancy looking restaurant hidden in a side street. The man at the door gave him a long look before asking for a name.
"Reservation under the name Black."
"Of course, Sir, she's already here, through the left, at the end, left corner table in the alcove."
"Thank you."
Following his directions be snorted mentally, Miss Black indeed. Mistress Narcissa would never use the Malfoy name in the muggle world, could lead to far too many complications. Thus, she was Ms. Black everywhere she went, a huge favorite to any of the stores she visited, her practically endless credit limit making her a valued customer everywhere.
Approaching the table, he had to swallow, she was not a hard woman to spot. A shimmering dark green cocktail dress hugged her every curve, exposing a large amount of pale flawless cleavage while ending at mid-thigh, showing a hint of where her stockings hugged her firm legs.
Sinfully sexual in every way, even in the dim light her silvery hair seemed to draw the light in. That was nothing compared to the smoldering look in her clear blue eyes as she spotted him, her dark red lips curving into a sensual smile.
Yes, Harry fully understood why the man at the door knew she had entered and exactly where she sat without consulting his ledger, no straight man was likely to forget that vision in a while.
Occluding his mind, he kept his gait steady, greeting her with a bow and a kiss on her knuckles, making her smile in appreciation.
"Good evening Mistress Narcissa."
"Good evening Harry, nice work on the bow."
He thanked her; not bothering to point out it was she who had perfected his greeting, as she obviously knew that judging by the way her eyes glittered.
"I must admit I am surprised you requested a meeting, what is it you have on your mind?"
Harry pondered for a second, trying to figure out how to formulate his request.
"Or perhaps you simply asked me here for more sinful purposes?"
His thoughts ground to a halt as he heard her question, looking at her mischievous smile he wasn't sure if she was joking or not. Knowing her it could be either way, it only depended on her mood.
"Oh, uh, no, t-that was not the purpose."
"Oh? Am I not attractive enough anymore Harrrry?"
Her purring voice and the way she displayed her cleavage as she leaned into him made him scramble for a save, but she only let out a small tinkling laugh.
"Relax Harry, I'm joking. Let's enjoy a nice meal before we get to business, all right?"
He flushed slightly but nodded, he knew she liked to play these games with just about every man she ran into. If there was one thing Narcissa Malfoy did not lack, it was self-confidence.
Summoning the young male waiter Harry could only watch in awe as she practically tied him into a knot, using only innuendo and suggestion, yet still managed to order their meal. He knew she was dangerous, incredibly so, yet he couldn't help being so attracted to the way she wielded her own power.
The steak and red wine she had ordered was exquisite, but then again, he had expected little else, her tastes were very expensive. They chatted amicably during the meal and he had to admit her congratulations about the whole chamber thing felt good, she was most impressed with how much space he had managed to get dedicated for himself in the Daily Prophet.
"The base and reputation you have built for yourself is one every aspiring politician would dream of."
The way she said it sounded like it was almost guaranteed that he would at some point enter the political world. A few years ago, he might have argued but now...? He wasn't sure, the feel of power and influence was quite addicting.
The thought of being as helpless as he had been when young; when one Albus Dumbledore had decided to cast him among muggles using only his own influence to accomplish it, was quite motivating. Harry knew his ambitious side grew ever stronger each day, after all, how could it not, with the tutors he had.
After the flustered waiter had taken away their empty plates, she raised her glass of wine, tipping it to him.
"Now then Harry, why did you wish for this meeting?"
Having had time to gather his thoughts during the meal, his answer was short and concise.
"I will claim my Lordship when I turn thirteen, nullifying the contract we have. That does not however mean I wish for our classes to end. Your teachings have proven extremely valuable to me during the years and the reason I requested this meeting is because I wish for them to continue."
She sipped her wine, mulling over what he had said. He didn't know how much of it was an act, she was an incredibly intelligent woman, he had no doubt she knew exactly why he had requested the meeting from the moment she received the owl.
"Extremely valuable? Hmmm. You used the Dark Arts I taught."
His jaw slackened in awe at her deduction before he mentally cursed as he saw a triumphant smirk on her face. She hadn't known; she simply acted like she did to watch his reaction. His reaction which had now confirmed her guess.
"You broke your word, Harry. Didn't you swear you would never use them except under my supervision?"
Fuck.
"Yes Mistress, but my options were either to break my word or to die."
She raised an eyebrow at that; the argument sounded stupid even to his own ears.
"And how could you possibly end up in such a quandary?"
"The man who controlled the basilisk proved impervious to other types of magic."
She was clearly intrigued now, sipping her wine slowly as she studied him.
"Hmmm, the article spoke of no man controlling it, meaning it was kept quiet. The only reason to keep it quiet would be because he is dead. What was his name?"
Harry mulled over her question; he didn't know how much to trust her. Yet if he kept it secret, he strongly doubted he would get the help he required. What were the odds of her recognizing the name anyway?
"Tom Marvolo Riddle."
Her eyes widened at the name, making him clench his jaw at his stupidity. She had been a social politician for the Dark families for years, digging for any hidden secrets she could use to her advantage, of course she would recognize the name. He was surprised to see her gaze was rather heated when she looked at him. She licked those dark red lips before asking.
"And you killed him with the Dark Arts?"
"Only wounded, I did however kill him with basilisk venom."
Her eyes were hooded as she studied him intently, a slight blush on her cheeks. Merlin, she was turned on by the thought. After a while she spoke, her voice husky.
"I will agree to continue teaching you if…you agree to owe me a favor of my choosing. I promise it will not bring you permanent economical; political or personal harm."
Harry downed the rest of his wine as he considered the offer. He had accepted a similar one after he had first met her, which had led to a rather eventful Christmas party. He blushed at the thought, Merlin it was more than a year ago but it still affected him.
Would she do the same thing again? No…it was unlikely; she tended to like spicing things up. She knew he was about to claim his Lordship soon, meaning it could just as well be a political or economic request. One where he gave his power over to her? No, that would bring him permanent political harm. Money? Unlikely, the Malfoy's were far from poor and it would go against her promise.
He studied her while thinking; she had a pleasant smile on her face as she watched him mull it over. He could decline the offer and walk away, yet that would make him lose out on unmatched Dark Arts training. Mistress Andromeda knew nowhere as much because the time she had spent in the muggle world and he doubted Madam Bones had even touched them. The Dark Arts had saved him against Tom, would he truly be able to discard such important training?
There was also the Wizengamot training she provided. Sure, Mistress Andromeda had been given the same basics as her, but those were just basics in comparison. While she had been off in the muggle world, Mistress Narcissa had spent almost every single day for the last two decades playing the political games, the wealth of knowledge was just not comparable.
Madam Bones spent most of her life in the DMLE, political games interested her little. He looked at her smiling face and realized she already knew all this; she merely wanted him to realize it. Fuck. There were no options, to choose pride meant to screw himself over in the long run, so instead he swallowed his pride and spoke.
"I accept."
Her feral smile sent a shiver down his neck, she was clearly pleased.
"I'd ask for a magical oath or contract but I know you far too well Harry, I won't be needing that, now, will I?"
He grumbled but nodded, Hufflepuff indeed. It literally did take the threat of death to make him break his word. He wasn't sure if that was a strength or a weakness.
"However,..."
Her smile grew even wider as she sipped her wine and calmly uncrossed her legs under the table, dragging her foot up his calf.
"You do still owe me an apology for breaking your word, regardless of the situation that caused it."
Her husky voice made him blush as much as the implication did.
"Here?!"
His loud voice made more than one guest at the restaurant glance at him, making him even redder.
"Shush, that is, unless you want everyone to watch?"
He gaped at her twinkling eyes before snapping his mouth shut. Covertly glancing around if anyone was still looking at them, he felt like his blush was going to make his face explode. He hesitated as he looked at her, was she truly serious?
She merely tipped her glass at him and gestured towards the table. He poured another glass of wine for himself, downing the expensive vintage in one swallow; he could use some encouragement right now. Giving the room another glance, he almost sighed in relief when no one looked their way, stealthily slipping underneath the thick tablecloth.
As soon as he was completely underneath and covered in darkness, he froze for a minute to see if anyone had noticed him and was causing a commotion. Only the steady noise of people quietly conversing drifted through the cloth. He was uncertain if this was a good or a bad thing.
A soft silky foot came up and rubbed his chin, the suggestion behind the move obvious enough. He gave her stocking clad calf a soft kiss before his hands trailed up her smooth legs up to the hem of her dark green dress.
She quite eagerly moved her hips closer to the edge of the chair while leaning back; she was obviously very excited already. Well, if she wanted an apology, she would get one. He found a tinge of humor in that; she obviously knew nothing about his ability to channel magic through his mouth yet.
He traced the stockings underneath her dress, kissing and nipping her bare skin where they ended, feeling the way her flesh shivered gently at the sensation. Bunching the dress up almost around her hips he managed to slip his hands underneath it, hooking her small black panties in his fingers.
One assisted pull later and they were yanked off, the small musky black cloth obviously of muggle design. Slipping them into his pocket he moved up, spreading her eager thighs with his hands, the dim light leaking through the tablecloth glistening off her moist lips. The scent of her arousal easily permeated the small enclosed space.
Moving up he used the flat of his tongue to lick her from the very bottom of her slit up over her sensitive nub, her unique taste filling his mouth as she softly gasped at the sensation. He was somewhat surprised when she lifted her thighs over his shoulders and crossed her ankles behind his back, in effect trapping him against her wetness.
It didn't change what he was doing so he merely dug in, licking and sucking at her aroused flesh, slowly working his tongue deeper as he lapped the sensitive skin. She relaxed against his ministrations, only small twitches in her hips giving away her enjoyment.
"Excuse me, waiter?"
Harry briefly froze as he realized she had called over the young man she had been toying with earlier. A hand grasped his hair and pushed him harder against her pussy, the message clear. He continued eating her and the hand started softly playing with his hair instead.
Mistress Narcissa explained to the waiter that he went to the toilet, before starting to blatantly flirt with the young man under the guise of discussing the desserts. Harry could hear his stammering voice and felt how her wetness increased, the excitement of the whole scenario clearly turning her on.
He had to take great effort in being quiet as he swallowed her juices and carefully sucked her, her shivering hips and engorged clit the only real tell of how turned on she was.
He knew she was fucking with him, the whole action of calling the waiter over was both meant to humiliate him and to display power over him. It was one of the mental games she played and it made him grin, because this time she did not have all the information before starting the game.
Moving his right hand underneath her he eased two fingers into her sopping wetness, sinking them all the way to the knuckles before starting a steady come-hither motion. He heard her breath briefly catch before she continued on, her husky voice easily entrancing the clueless waiter.
Harry engulfed her entire clit in his mouth, sucking on it deeply as he let magic loose both in his mouth and fingers, flooding her entire groin with magic, enflaming every single oversensitive nerve ending under a flood of tingling rushing power.
"So, you would suggest the cappuccin-OH!"
"Are you all right Ms. Black?"
Harry grinned underneath the table, the relaxed thighs were now gripping him in a quivering iron grip and the hand was painfully tangled in his hair. He could almost imagine her biting her tongue as he felt her inner walls flutter wildly against his intruding fingers.
"I, I am f-fine. The cappuccino will be, oh, fine."
Harry had to admit he was impressed with her control; her breathy voice only gave away a fraction of what was truly going on with her body.
"Are you certain Miss?"
"Yes, yes! Now go!"
Harry couldn't keep the grin off his face as he heard the waiter walk away, no doubt perplexed at her sudden change of attitude towards him. Still, he did not stop devouring her, even when the hand in his hair alternatively pulled him either away from her or against her, clearly overwhelmed by the sensation.
With a muffled drawn-out groan she came, her teeth clenched and her nails digging into the table, her hips waving wildly against his face as he continued sucking her down. The orgasm didn't seem to have an end, a few seconds stretched into almost a minute and her muffled groans turned into gasping squeaks.
The combination of the sensation, the location and her excitement all being too much and she realized if this went on any longer, she would howl her release for the entire restaurant to hear.
Harry felt her wobbly legs release his head but made no move the back off, until he felt her pull his head away with a stifled "Harry, please, no more."
With a soft pop he released her puffy wetness from his mouth, toning the magic down at the same time as he slipped his fingers out. Her entire body seemed to sag as she slumped in relief, small shivers running along her legs as she tried to compose herself.
With a gentle tongue he licked her clean before sucking off his fingers, was it just him or did she taste far better when she was pleading?
Slipping out from underneath the table he took his seat, dabbing his mouth with his napkin, unable to keep a small grin off his face when he finally laid eyes on her. Her eyes were lidded, a light coat of perspiration covering her flushed skin as she panted heavily while staring at him.
Her eyes held equal amounts hunger, disbelief and a small coating of what looked like awe. She downed her mineral water in one go before finally speaking.
"You...have learned some new tricks."
His grin was both smug and teasing.
"You don't say, Mistress?"
She kept studying him as she fanned herself with her napkin, her flush slowly receding as she got her breath back.
"That was indeed the best apology I have received thus far and it is most certainly accepted."
Standing up on slightly wobbly legs she gathered her purse before handing him a chocolate frog card. His own chocolate frog card to be exact.
"That is a portkey for Malfoy Manor for the usual time, do not miss it."
She laid a gentle kiss on his cheek, her purring voice sending a shiver down his back.
"I look forward to continuing our lessons."
More than one man stared at her as she walked out of the restaurant; the figure-hugging dress combined with her rock-hard nipples was not something a healthy male easily avoided looking at.
Harry admired her hips, especially knowing he still held her panties, before staring at the card with his face on it with a slight chuckle. What were the odds of her having this card ready unless she knew exactly what this meeting was about? None. And she wanted him to know it as well.
Harry accepted the cappuccino the confused waiter brought to the table with a wry grin, intelligent and dangerous indeed.