Author's Note: This is almost a half and half microcosm of my story lol. PWP. Half plot, half smut. xD Sorta. Sets some stuff up for later, and does some stuff NOW. :D I can't wait lol. Also tried to be as delicate as I could be with this particular one, given the surrounding subject matter about house elves and shit... Eek. Hope I did even half way okay there.
End of AN!
At the start of September, on a cool day, Harry Floo'd to the Ministry (a place he usually avoided unless he had a good reason to be there).
Today, he did happen to have one: Kingsley had asked to meet with him.
Harry had left Terra with Kreacher, very reluctantly, hoping this visit would be a quick one.
He went to the front desk in the atrium and was immediately met by two Aurors, who led him into the lift. They exited on a new floor, and Harry was led through the halls. Past doorways, surrounded by sights and sounds. All the way into a spacious waiting room - and then down a new hallway with a door that had a vibrating scarlet lock on it.
The Aurors tapped their wands to it, and it vanished and the door swung open.
Harry stepped through, while the Aurors remained behind, into an office.
The Minister's Office.
Kingsley rose from his seat immediately, striding around his desk with delight on his face. "Harry - you're looking well!"
"You too, Kingsley."
"Thank you. Please, sit with me. Would you like any refreshments?" Kingsley added, moving back to his desk.
"Is this going to take that long?" Harry joked before he could stop himself.
Kingsley laughed as he sat down, gesturing for Harry to do the same. "I sincerely hope not."
"No thanks, then."
"Do you have an important date to keep?" Kingsley jested in return.
Harry flushed, his mind straying to Terra. "N-no. Just...things to look after at home," he hedged.
"Yes, I had heard you have taken up permanent residence at Grimmauld Place these days. It would make Sirius happy to know that."
"How do you know?" Harry said, staring.
"The Order may be disbanded, but most of its members are still my close friends - I'm afraid people still are prone to gossiping," Kingsley said with a smile.
"Well - great," Harry grumbled. He'd have to track down whoever was blabbing about his living arrangements. It was a good bet it was a Weasley...
"I have also heard that you have taken into your care a young woman, suffering the affliction known as the Maledictus Curse."
"How- how did you hear that one?" Nobody even knew Harry had Terra at home; Ron and Hermione had been so busy lately that even they hadn't visited the place - and Harry hadn't told them about Terra yet, either (on Terra's own request for privacy of existence).
"Word from St. Mungo's. When the most famous man in modern times is seen visiting the hospital several times over, particularly when in company of a great magical serpent, word of it is apt to spread."
"Damn..." Harry swore. He really should have expected that one, honestly. "But - uhm - no one knows exactly who it is I've been seen with?"
Kingsley raised an eyebrow. "Is there any reason people should not know?"
"Just privacy reasons," Harry replied. "The- girl I'm...sort of helping take care of...she doesn't really want anyone to know where she is or anything."
"Understandable. Particularly for a Maledictus." Kingsley nodded. "Rest assured, no specific names have been bandied about - not as far as I am aware. St. Mungo's does take patient confidentiality very seriously."
"Good. Alright." Harry sighed with relief. "So, why am I here today, Kingsley? Did you just want to catch up - or verify celebrity rumors?" he added, grinning.
Kingsley gave a small grin of his own. "Hardly, Harry. I'm much too busy lately to be invested in such things. No, why you are here - why I have asked you here - is for a reason I..." He paused, growing more serious before continuing. "To put it simply: you won't like it much."
"What is it?"
"I have...something of an offer for you. A- job, or a position, rather."
"No thank you. Look, between you and Hermione, and everyone else, you've been doing a- a great job turning the Ministry around. Huge changes, good- ripples, all great stuff - but I can't be a part of it. The Ministry and I...I just can't stop seeing it as the same thing as before. I know it's not the same as it was, I know that, but..." Harry sighed.
"I understand that, Harry. And I would never have asked you here if it was not important. Critical, even."
"What do you even want me to do? You said a job? A position? Why can't someone else do it?"
"Because they were not asked for by name to help solve the situation we find ourselves in today."
"Someone asked for me by name? Who? What's the situation?" Damn himself; Hermione really was right - he had a "saving people thing." Even now, he still felt the urge to just jump in and help how he could.
"You are aware," Kingsley started slowly. "that in the first several weeks after war's end, we took immediate actions to reform the workings of Azkaban. It was one of the first issues we all decided must be attended to - between what happened to Sirius, and to Hagrid, and even the fate of Barty Crouch Jr, everyone agreed that things there had to change."
"Yeah. No more innocent people being locked up and tortured anymore - or even guilty ones," Harry said quietly. "And no more Kissing, either. Of anyone - ever again."
"Yes," Kingsley affirmed. "However, this has led to a certain kind of development - and a new problem we are faced with. When the Dementors were relieved of their duties to run Azkaban, a large team of several dozen mages were sent to the island to move them all into the lower levels - where they have stayed for over a year now. While Dementors cannot be killed or destroyed, they can be starved until they fade out of existence naturally. It simply takes a long time. In past weeks, more and more of them have begun to...die off. The more resilient or determined ones of their kind even began to cannibalize one another, feeding off of the weaker ones to remain strong and...alive. This situation has continued, until now we have reached the point where two hundred Dementors number less than two dozen. In a matter of weeks, they will all be gone."
"Good."
"Good?" Kingsley said, eyeing him strangely. "Tell me, Harry: do you believe that the complete destruction of an entire sapient species of beings is truly something to take joy in?"
Harry glanced away, working his jaw. "Well, I mean, it's not like they're- muggleborns or muggles. It's not...they're Dementors! All they do is- torment and steal souls! It's not like they're- people or anything..."
"And that is the crux of the matter," Kingsley stated. "Your opinion is one shared by a majority of mages - yet not all of them. And most importantly, the Dementors themselves...seem to disagree."
"What?"
"You have been aware for many years now that they are intelligent, sapient beings, have you not? You're aware that they communicate, that they feel emotions. They may have an entirely different base nature from any other beings we know of, but they are no less beings than house elves or goblins - both of whom we mages have spent a very long time enslaving, oppressing, and corralling to the benefit of our own people. Moreover, their nature, unknown to most, is not their own fault."
"How isn't it their fault?" Harry said, disbelieving.
"Did you know that Dementors were created by wizards? A specific wizard, a long time ago, who resided on Azkaban island. That man went further into certain areas of the Dark Arts than even Tom Riddle, or Herpo The Foul: the areas of necromancy, the soul, and the lost, depraved art of creating homunculus. His decades of experimenting...resulted in the creation of the Dementor species. They were discovered there by Ministry wizards in the fifteenth century, almost five hundred years ago now." Kingsley gazed at Harry, leaning forward. "Do you know the term 'homunculus' Harry?"
Harry shook his head.
"It is a term for an artificially created being through the use of alchemy or magic, for the express purpose of serving mages - we mages seem to have a knack for that," Kingsley said quietly. "The Dementors...are an entire race of homunculus. Created and twisted by the darkest of magics. The majority of their race's existence has been spent residing in Azkaban alone. They have rarely known anything else, and they have never done anything...but what we mages ordered them to do for us: to serve us."
"I- I did read once that- I'd heard it was a deal? A deal made between mages and the Dementors?"
Kingsley smiled thinly. "A deal? No. That was only what we told the world in order to ensure we could keep the Dementors contained without any scrutiny - much like all the pretty lies we have told to keep house elves subservient to us. The truth, Harry, is that there was no deal - only a threat, and an ultimatum: Obey our orders, or we will confine you to a small, concrete room with no exit, and we will wait for you to starve and fade from existence forever. The Dementors have rarely had the numbers to disobey, and they have always been aware of the power of the Patronus Charm. A spell not created to defend ourselves from them, but to corral them wherever we needed them to be." He sighed, sitting back and placing his hands over his face. "When Tom Riddle came to them a few years ago now, offering them freedom - freedom to roam, and to feed, yes - of course they took that opportunity with no hesitation. Would not anyone, to escape eternal imprisonment and the constant threat of death? Truthfully, I cannot blame them for that decision. And now we are doing exactly as we have always threatened we would: starving them all, one by one, until their entire species vanishes from the earth. Unless..."
"Unless what?"
Kingsley lowered his hands, meeting Harry's gaze intently. "Unless we can come to a true agreement - one predicated on the Dementors' capacity for growth and change. Two days ago, when I was taking my monthly inspection of Azkaban, I went to the lower levels to check on their status as well as the prisoners above. A Dementor communicated with me - to me - voicing terms of a deal to ensure their release...and continued survival of the species."
"What terms?"
"They told me that if we were to free them, they would 'change themselves in a way that would make wizards have no desire to exterminate them.' They have told me...that they are willing to undergo drastic and permanent changes of behavior to avoid being wiped out forever, or to avoid being merely confined forever to a place like Azkaban. They've come up with a list of such changes of behavior: to adhere to common standards of ethics and moralities, to turn their chaotic population into a proper civilization, and to explore the nuances of individual existence. They've asked us to allow them to attempt this, to become 'like us' was their word choice. They have freely told me that any Dementors who do not agree to do so may continue to be confined, or, if necessary, erased from existence."
Harry sat back in his seat, blowing a breath. He ran his hand through his hair. "Do you...I mean...it- can't be true, can it? I mean, Dementors? C'mon. It has to be a trick, just a way to not get...wiped out."
"Perhaps. Or perhaps being on the barest sliver of the brink of extinction has spurred them on to consider things they never would have before. The most desperate measures to stay alive. And to thrive. If it is a genuine desire to become a true people and a society all their own...or whether it is a trick...they have even offered us a way to test them. To mitigate that risk. They asked for one mage to spend time with one Dementor - one who holds this new goal, this new desire to learn and grow - for a number of weeks, to prove they are dedicated to what they say. To achieving what they now hope to. That mage was you, Harry."
"Why me?" Harry said, panic in his chest. "Kingsley, I- I'm the worst person you could have asked! You know how they affect me, you know that I'm liable to just- I can't, pick someone else! Why did they choose me?"
"They chose you because they know, as I know, of your recent escapades into the non-human communities," Kingsley said kindly. "In past weeks, I have heard from dragons, from harpies and driders, and from minotaur cities of your visits to their societies. Their cultures. And all I have heard...are good things, Harry. Very good things. They say you're an incredibly kind, curious, and thoughtful person. A model wizard, if there ever was one. They have said to me that if all mages could be like you are...history as it is would not have happened how it did. That our people's treatment of theirs would not have occurred. That they would be so much more inclined to interact with us in ways beyond fear, guardedness, and hostilities."
Harry froze. His jaw dropped, and he fought to keep his face from burning up. He looked away quickly. "I- l-look, that's- that doesn't mean I'm some- some expert- negotiator or- or envoy, or whatever. It doesn't mean I can just- I can't go hang around with a Dementor! Even one who wants to...to be different, to be- better- even if that's true! I can't, Kingsley!"
"I understand, Harry. But in my opinion, I believe it rather makes you the best person for the job. You see anyone for who they are, not what they are, and we need that for us to make this...possible new form of relationship a reality. To help the Dementors to become what they have claimed they want to become - whether out of survival instinct or not. We need someone who will take them at their word, and come to know them in a way no wizard has before: as people, and as a people to be. You have such a heart, such a vast sense of compassion and empathy, and we need that for this, Harry. We need someone to be willing to guide them, to help them learn and grow into a true society!"
"Because the alternative is that we will have no choice but to continue to keep them confined to Azkaban for centuries more. I do not want to be responsible for the genocide of an entire species of sapient beings - but nor can I allow them to run free in this world as they presently are: with no regard for the lives of other beings," Kingsley continued firmly. "But if they can change...become more...if they can prove that to us... Would you not agree that they at least deserve the chance to try? A chance we have never given them before in life? We wizards have never once thought to teach them, to help them. We have only ever used them, and cared not for what they thought or felt. From the moment we first found them, we saw them as horrors to be contained, servants to be used, not beings who needed to learn: learn morals, learn ethics, just as anyone must from birth."
Harry looked at Kingsley, then away again. He was thinking harder than he had in a long time now. He held his shaking fists together in his lap, taking another breath. They had asked for him specifically? The Dementors? And Kingsley, too. And if this didn't work... But if Harry could make it work, if he could contribute to it... "You're right. They do deserve the chance. And- and if you really think I'm the best man for the job...I'll- I'll try my best. But I can't- I can't promise it'll go well."
"Nor can any of us. All we have...is the hope, Harry, that we can make this work. Hope...it is a feeling as powerful as love, in its own way. Perhaps even more so." Kingsley reached out to pat Harry's arm. "Thank you. I do realize just how difficult this will be - especially for you. You are a remarkable young man, one I find myself in awe of. Sometimes, even envious of."
"You- envy me?"
Kingsley gave a simple nod, his eyes shining.
Harry flushed hard. "T-thank you, Kingsley..."
After leaving the Minister's office, Harry navigated the Ministry building on his own.
Back through those halls, doorways, and into the lift again.
He arrived back at the atrium, stepping out into a place that was surprisingly more crowded and busy than when he had first gotten here.
He threaded through the crowds, making his way back toward the nearest row of fireplaces.
"Harry Potter, sir!" a high voice cried, catching his attention.
He stopped and turned. A second later, he felt something bump into his legs.
Harry let his gaze travel downward, and found himself looking at a house elf. Bright pink skin, long floppy ears - big, dark blue eyes like the ocean. She was clearly a she - and she was swathed in a small, fitted dress of white with various colored swirls and streaks, like someone had taken a brush across a canvas at random and whim. She had to be about four feet tall (maybe a little less).
"Err, hello?" Harry said kindly, mentally preparing himself as he gave a glance around; he really didn't need any more attention on himself - especially not today. "Do I know you?" he added.
The elf gasped, shaking her head furiously. "No, sir, not at all! I am Mitsy, Harry Potter sir! Oh...Mitsy- Fern. What a great honor for Mitsy to meet you at last! After all you've done for our race! I simply saw you and I knew I had to- or I might never get the chance! Forgive me, sir!"
Harry sighed internally, but put on a smile. "Nice to meet you too, Mitsy. I think the Ministry's done more for you than me though. Kingsley - the Minister - and Hermione Granger and her House Elf Advocacy Programs. Helping you all not just to get free, to get your own lives set up out there, but also to reclaim ancient elf artifacts and old cities and things that we've...err, been helping to return to you now." He thought he had it right; he didn't exactly know all the details of what those programs entailed (even after listening to Hermione go on about them for the past year now, give or take).
"Oh yes, sir, most certainly! Mitsy was being treated very bad before...very bad...but now she- now I- I am a free elf - I even picked a surname!" Mitsy said, in a tremulous tone. As if fearing anyone overhearing her blasphemy. "I'm very interested in how elves lived before the Master Bond to mages was put on our kind! But I think these chances never would have happened if not for Harry Potter defeating- him."
"Maybe," Harry compromised. "Erm, so...you just wanted to meet me, then?"
"Well, more than that, sir. Mitsy...in her freedom now...is having problems. Problems she wanted to talk to only Harry Potter about! If he would listen to a lowly, disgraceful little- no, bad, no. You are not that way, that is bad talk, that is the Masters talking..." Mitsy admonished herself. "That is conditioning, that is abuse, that is...not to be thought again!"
"Sure. Um. I'd love to listen to you," Harry said earnestly. He wasn't doing anything else today, was he? And besides, he had something of a soft spot for house elves. He had let Terra know already that he didn't know how long this outing would even take - and so he could give Mitsy another half hour or so of his time, couldn't he? "Would you want to go somewhere nice while we talked? We could go to Diagon Alley - find a restaurant or a shop or-"
"You'd really just take Mitsy out like that?! Like she was a- like I am a...a..."
"A what?"
Mitsy covered her face and shook her head. "Like she- I- I...am- am e-equal to a witch?" she finally whispered out.
"Of course - because you are equal," Harry said firmly. "You have to know that...right?"
"Y-yes...yes, Mitsy- I know that, but sometimes it is still so difficult to- come to terms with it." Mitsy's voice was tremulous as she lowered her hands.
"Well, erm, maybe a good day out will help you with that a little?" Harry said with a winning smile.
"Mitsy hopes so. I hope so," she amended with a squeak.
"Okay. So- let's go, then." Harry offered her his hand.
She hesitated before reaching out to take it gingerly.
"You're going to have to squeeze a bit harder if you don't want to get lost during the Apparition," Harry told her kindly.
Her eyes widened. She nodded and reaffirmed her grip.
Satisfied that no accidents would happen now, Harry focused his mind and Disapparated.
Harry and Mitsy popped into existence again in a crowded, loud Diagon Alley.
Families everywhere, kids racing around and shrieking for joy. Laughter abound.
"Do you know any good places to eat?" Harry said, bending down awkwardly to talk to Mitsy.
Mitsy eyed him. A small smile came over her face - she nodded. A small hand came up to point. "Mitsy- I often eat at a shop down that way, Harry Potter, sir!"
"Lead the way, then," Harry said. "Oh- and you don't have to call me sir all the time. You can just call me Harry!"
Mitsy nodded, then seized his hand and started off; Harry just did his best to keep up with her (and not trip like an uncoordinated idiot).
They moved up the alley together quickly, till they came to the eatery. A small, compact little place wedged between two other buildings.
Mitsy went right in.
Harry walked in after her, grateful to get out of the crowds.
"Hello there, Mitsy!" a young witch called cheerily from the counter almost immediately. The young woman's eyes found Harry, and her face went through the typical reactions before settling...into a pleasant neutral state. Harry was instantly grateful for that. "How about you and your tag-along find a seat? Do you want your usual?"
Mitsy nodded, beaming at the witch. "Yes, please - thank you very much, Ms. Mil- Cassie!" she amended firmly.
"I'll have it ready soon - and we'll have someone over to get his order too," said Cassie brightly, her eyes flickering again to Harry.
Mitsy and Harry seated themselves at a small table in a corner, clean and polished. Mitsy squirmed in her seat, then twisted around and bent down to tap a finger to her chair; its legs sprouted up, growing several inches taller. She straightened, catching Harry's eye with a small smile and a bit of a new, deeper pink tinge to her face. "Mages are always making Mitsy's chair shorter after she leaves..."
"Uh- I think that's just- the normal height for...for humans."
"Yes, but she- I...am not a human."
"Yeah..."
Mitsy shook her head and pushed her ears back. She leaned forward and pushed a menu at Harry, eyeing him closely. "What is it you want to eat, Harry Potter- Harry?" she caught herself swiftly, ducking her head.
"Uh, well, let's see..." Harry shrugged and took up the menu to look. Truthfully, almost everything looked appealing to him. Apparently, he took far too long to decide, because a member of the waiting staff came to check on them both - or, more specifically, just him. He ended up picking at random, flushing and stammering a little. He set his hands on the table, watching the wait staff go.
Mitsy didn't seem too bothered by the silence. In fact, she seemed happy to fill it, herself: her light humming filled the air as she swayed side to side in her seat.
Harry cleared his throat, leaning in a bit closer to her. "Erm, Mitsy, what are you humming there? It sounds...well...pretty- interesting."
Mitsy smiled. She drew her knees together and placed splayed hands over her lap. "It is a song made by the Raging Hydras band - it's one of Mitsy- my favorites to listen to."
"I've never heard of them before," Harry admitted. "What sort of work do they do?"
Mitsy made a long noise of contemplation. She frowned. Then, she brightened. "If Harry Potter was to visit Mitsy's home, she could show him!"
"You have a home?"
Mitsy blushed, her frown reappearing. "Y-yes, Mitsy has- she knows she is not s'pose to-"
"Oh, n-no!" Harry gasped, shaking his head. "No, I- I'm sorry! I didn't mean anything like that! It's only- I only meant: where do you live?" he hurriedly went on.
Mitsy looked down at her lap, twisting her hands together. Her small shoulders trembled. "Mitsy- Mitsy has a flat, sir..." she answered, as if admitting some great shame and secret.
"Okay," Harry said lightly. "That's great, that's- where is it? I'd love to visit. I would!"
Mitsy's head came up. She scrutinized him. She turned to point. "It is- down that way. In Foundation Alley!"
"Foundation Alley?" Harry blinked. "I've never been there before."
"It is very new, sir," Mitsy said quietly. "Mostly only we house elves go there; there are many flats for us to use, all bunched together. But human mages live there too - Tom Riddle's war drove many people from their homes...and even destroyed them!"
"That's horrible. But I'm glad to hear that people - house elves - have a place to live."
"Would Harry Potter really like to see it?" Once again, those big eyes examined him closely.
"Of course," Harry said easily. "I'd love to see where you live. I'd love to hear some songs from that...Raging Hydras band of yours."
Mitsy bounced excitedly in her seat. "After we eat, we will go!"
"Great. Really great."
After finishing their food, they left the eatery behind, with Harry following Mitsy's lead.
They moved up the alley toward Gringotts - and then Mitsy turned left at a thin, tall archway that Harry definitely didn't recall seeing before today. Harry moved through the archway, stepping down stone stairs to reach a narrow path that led them between the Diagon Alley shops on either side. At the end of the path, Harry blinked as they emerged into a wholly new, spacious street. It was clean and blinding: polished white cobblestone under their feet, and white bricks everywhere.
Wide, multi-story buildings - tightly packed, all right (Mitsy's description had been accurate). Nice wooden doors leading into them. Large windows. The upper floors even had little balconies protruding from them for the occupants to step out onto. Harry spied a few house elves and human mages relaxing on some of them, chatter and music wafting down the alley from above.
"Mine is this way!" Mitsy squeaked, stealing his attention - and his hand. She gave him a tug.
Harry nodded, letting her lead him toward one of the buildings. Through the wooden door, into a small stairwell. Mitsy took them quickly, practically bouncing with every step of her small legs. They arrived on the first floor landing. She hurried off down the short hallway and stopped before a door. She raised a hand and brushed her palm against it, and it clicked and swung open. She gave Harry a look before stepping through. Harry followed her in, shutting the door carefully behind himself.
Inside now, Harry took a proper and first look around.
It wasn't nearly as modest a space as Harry would have assumed from the outside - of course not, with magic involved. It was actually rather spacious, despite the abundance of furniture littering it; two sofas, a large, wide bookcase, a tea table, a small end table on one side of one of the sofas (atop which sat a magical wireless radio), and a big fireplace built into the wall. To the right of the fireplace was a large music stereo system of some kind.
The sitting room opened up to the kitchen, giving a direct view of the next room over. There was a large, long table and a half dozen chairs, a nice oven and sink, and a lot of cabinets and drawers.
A door to the right was partially open, allowing Harry to spy the inside of a single bedroom. It looked normal enough: a large bed, a nightstand, and a big square window with hanging blue curtains.
Except...that was sort of the thing puzzling Harry.
"Erm, Mitsy," he began. "Don't take this the wrong way, but- erm- I couldn't help but notice that, well, everything here seems pretty- mage-proportioned. Not house-elf-proportioned. Wouldn't you...wouldn't you want to shrink it down a little?"
Mitsy shook her head. "I am not good at that kind of magic. Besides, sir, if I did that where would visitor mages like yourself sit?"
"You don't have to call me sir or anything, remember?" Harry reminded instantly. "Just Harry is fine. And - you get visitors?"
"Mostly Ministry workers, yes, sir. My social worker, building inspectors - mages come here every week for all kinds of reasons!"
"Oh. Right. Well, I suppose as long as it works for you...that's what matters?"
Mitsy smiled, nodding. "Reaching high places is easy with magic, Harry Potter, sir." She raised her hand and snapped her fingers; a blue light flashed, and a book flew down from a high shelf to land on the sofa. "See?"
"Yeah, I see. You know it's always been pretty amazing to me how house elves can just do magic like that. No wand, no words. Most mages without a wand are just helpless."
"T-thank you, sir! You are too kind - as kind as everyone says! Mitsy isn't sure she deserves-" She froze, wincing at herself. She screwed up her fists and shook her head. A shaking hand half raised to her own skull - then she let it drop and her body eased. "Thank you," she repeated, sounding strained.
"You're...welcome," Harry said cautiously.
"Sit, please! Mitsy- I will make you biscuits and tea!" she declared, whirling away and hurrying off into the kitchen. "I am very good at that - very good to her guests!"
"Uh...okay. Thank you, Mitsy," Harry called after her. He glanced around himself, then settled down onto the sofa. He moved the book aside carefully. He waited.
During his wait, he heard little pops and bangs, and once even a small clatter and a squeak that almost sounded like an outright expletive on Mitsy's part.
Then she reappeared, rushing into the sitting room with a big tray. Hot tea cups and biscuits arranged - iced biscuits, all brightly colored, yellows and pinks and snow whites. Mitsy released the tray, leaving it floating in the air before Harry. She stepped away, eying him intently. "Here you are, sir! I- I'm sorry I took so long."
"No, it's fine. You didn't take long. And- and this looks great. Thank you. You didn't have to do this for me."
Mitsy startled. She blinked rapidly, her lips twisting. She glanced away briefly. "N-no...I- I did not," she agreed, hesitant. "But I...wanted to. For you, Harry Potter. To show my gratitude, sir..."
"You don't- have anything to be grateful to me for, Mitsy. I- I haven't done much of anything."
"Not true! You have changed things for all house elves in the country, forever. I will always be grateful!"
Harry stared into her big, teary eyes. Teary, but full of passion. A face of determination. "Okay. Thank you, Mitsy," he said softly. "Do you want to eat these biscuits with me now?" He took one up and gave it a bite, smiling at her.
Looking absolutely delighted - and relieved - Mitsy clambered up onto the sofa and sat herself beside him.
She took two biscuits and bit into them happily. Then she turned and flicked a finger at the stereo system.
Immediately, loud, clanging music assailed Harry's ears.
"How do you like it?" Mitsy asked of him - loudly, a smile stretching her face.
"Is this- Raging Hydras?" Harry asked her in return, trying not to wince.
"Yes!"
"Oh. Um. Well...it's- really intense," Harry offered diplomatically, with a grin.
"I love it!" Mitsy declared.
Harry didn't want to crush her and tell her it completely was not his style (or worse, come off as a bad guest in her home). So he sat with her, eating biscuits, and listening to wizarding hard rock music as Mitsy took him through several songs in a row.
"So, errr, Mitsy, you said when we first met that you had some problems you felt like you couldn't talk to anyone about? Except- except me?"
Harry sat on the large-for-an-elf bed with Mitsy as they began to talk, after having relocated to her spacious and comfortable bedroom (though the music was still playing loud and hard in the sitting room, Mitsy had at least closed the door for them).
Mitsy kicked her feet as she sat beside him, hands in her lap. "Yes...yes, you're the only wizard Mitsy feels- that I feel I could trust to tell... I hoped to find you someday. If I did not happen to meet you at the Ministry today..."
"Uhm, so, you've- you've sort of been...looking for me, then?"
Mitsy nodded, her face tinging a deeper pink. "Yes, that's right, Harry Potter sir- H-Harry. Hearing everything about you - how good you are, how kind you are, most of all to house elves, even years before now - I knew you were the only wizard I could ever..."
"Ever what?"
"Mitsy- I- I have never had freedom over my own...anything until recently. My life, my education, my name - my body. I would like to know what that is like... Would Harry Potter help me to do that?"
"Mitsy, I'm not sure how I could help you with your life, or...education. Or- what you mean by your body."
"I mean I would like to try physical pleasure sex with you," she said boldly, those big eyes peering at him. But Harry could see her literally holding her breath, her pink cheeks puffing out. "I have heard...you are very good with that, with those who are not humans."
"Wait, what? You know I-" Harry stammered, blushing hard. If a random house elf like Mitsy knew that, then had Kingsley known? Did- did the Weasleys know? Hermione? Ginny? No, no, surely it was just crazy rumors that nobody would take seriously! Not...anyone who knew him...right? Kingsley certainly hadn't brought it up in their meeting - though, would he have? Maybe he had been being tactful about it? Considerate toward Harry? He might even have felt like that part of the rumors were none of his business?
Not that Harry was- afraid or- ashamed, anyways! He just- well-
He supposed he should have realized it far sooner, shouldn't he have? It wasn't like he had sworn anyone else to secrecy, and- and- and most of them all clearly had had far different views on sex and pleasure than humans, so...
So who knew if any of them had made some offhand mentions about it to any Ministry people walking through that forest? Or the mountain regions?
Harry was definitely betting that the damn dragon, Saphielle, and Gerena for sure, would have been fucking pleased to go shouting about it to the world!
Not that that was necessarily wrong, and Harry definitely hadn't told them not to tell anyone or anything, so it wasn't at all like anyone should have been expected to keep quiet about any of their equally participating roles in sexual escapades with him...
He gave a mighty internal sigh, focusing on the present.
It was better than letting dread at whether his friends and quasi-family knew the truth about his escapades drive him into a comatose state.
"O-kay," Harry managed to get out, eyeing Mitsy. "So...you'd- h-heard that I...and...you've been- err- interested in that sort of experience, and...you thought I was the best person to ask about it? Erm, the best- wizard?"
"Yes..." Mitsy looked on verge of a nervous breakdown herself.
"Well," Harry said tightly. "Well- okay. If that's what you...want... Are you sure?"
"Harry Potter is the only wizard I would trust to help give me this!" Mitsy reiterated with great passion.
"Okay." Harry nodded at her. He spread his hands. "Then I'm willing to help. But- you really do have to be sure about this. It's- I mean- I'm a human wizard and- you know- you're a house elf. And I don't want to make you-"
"You are a man and I am a woman," Mitsy said firmly, her voice rising - in volume and pitch. "If I'm equal to a witch now, take me at my word when I say I am sure of what I want to do!"
Harry opened his mouth, then closed it. "Okay. You're right. I'm sorry for that. I was just worried..."
"Don't be worried: This is my choice! I want this!" Mitsy confirmed, nodding enthusiastically and beaming at him. She paused. She squirmed and put her hands together before her, ducking her head. "Only...the only thing I am not sure of is how...how...how do we begin? I do not know where to start! I have never, ever, ever...not even to think about it! No elf would dare! Not with a- a wizard!"
"Uh, well, would you like to try just...I mean...have you thought about what you want to do? I mean, do you- know what to do?"
The elf's face changed. "Mitsy knows, yes..." she said quietly, embarrassment sweeping over her. "She- I- used to watch my masters together before at nights. Human and human, wizard and witch. I wondered how it felt. I thought if I could ever have that too...but it was not for elves. It was never for elves. Elves did not deserve that pleasure - we only deserved pain. But...but now it is different. Now I can have...what I want."
"Okay. Then...whenever you're ready, whatever you want to do - just...in your own time, you know? Go for it. I'm pretty much open to anything," Harry told her kindly.
Mitsy nodded, then carefully moved herself to straddle his lap. She pressed herself to him cautiously, gingerly shifting in his lap. Her small arms wound around his body, hugging him. "This is ok, sir?"
"Just- just call me Harry, please. And, yeah, It's fine, Mitsy."
Mitsy hugged him tighter and rubbed her face to his chest.
Harry supposed this was...a good, slow start, all right. Not anything he'd expected, but...if it was what she wanted, he wasn't going to complain. This was for her, not for him, after all. He was just here to help her.
She suddenly wrapped her legs around him as well, forcing her dress up to reveal a naked bared pink slit, and then she leaned into him and pushed him back on the bed.
Harry blinked as she sat up on him. She tapped a finger to his chest, causing all his clothes to vanish. then she simply pulled off her dress and dropped it on the bed. She had such a slender small form, but had perky rounded breasts and a real bit of curve to her bared hips. she gazed at him uncertainly, then scooted herself back till Harry felt his hard on touching her lower back. She glanced back, then down at their crotches. "Your cock is supposed to go inside me...but which way? I often saw the master witch take it into her - she used the word 'cunt' - but also her bum hole..."
"Um...you can have it- whichever way you want. It's your choice. Whatever's the most...comfortable and whatnot, you know? Whatever feels good?"
Mitsy looked torn. She lifted her hips and wriggled her butt against his dick, then lifted higher and move backwards to rub her pink slit down along its length. She gazed at him, putting hands on his chest. "I...I want to have you here, H- Harry. My cunt."
"Okay. Uh, but, there are a few spells we should probably cast first to-" Harry went on.
"Yes, I heard the masters using those before," she nodded. She raised a hand with a look of confidence, and snapped her fingers; white light flashed, and Harry felt a heat ripple through the air. Then, he looked down to see Mitsy's slit oozing a great deal of liquid onto his dick. "Ahhh," she gasped, staring down at herself as well with outright fascination. "So that is what that does..."
"Yeah, that was probably a...lubrication charm of some sort," Harry offered up. "It makes it all- a lot easier for both people. Erm, pleasurable and stuff. Makes it so you can start a lot sooner too than naturally- oooh!"
Harry gasped as Mitsy lined herself up, her tongue sticking out of corner of her mouth, and slammed herself down onto his dick. Mitsy sank down onto him with a long gasp of her own. She took every inch of him, touching base and curling her hands to fists on his chest. She held herself there, face screwed up, lips parted.
"R-right - great job...you got the idea," Harry groaned.
Mitsy's eyes opened wide. "Mitsy is so sorry, did Mitsy hurt you! Oh, she is such a careless, stupid little-"
"N-no! No, you're good, you're- it's fine," Harry said swiftly. "I'm fine! Just- took me off guard a little. That's all."
"Harry Potter is sure?"
"Yes. And - just Harry..."
"Harry," she amended breathily. She looked down at herself again, at where they now joined. She brought her hands in and felt, touched, herself and him. "I think I did it correctly...it looks how they looked. Now I am supposed to- bounce?"
"Well, not exactly bouncing," Harry told her, with a weak grin. "Just...sort of- use your hips, uh, you just- swing more than bounce...if that makes sense. Uh, could I help you?" he asked, reaching his hands up to hover over her hips.
She nodded, smiling at him. "I would appreciate help."
"Okay. So we just sort of want to...this..." Harry grasped her hips gently, helping her to lift and do the motions for a minute, until she voiced she felt confident in being able to do it on her own.
The next few minutes consisted of Mitsy bouncing her little rear up and down as she took his dick into her tight, dripping pink slit, her long adorable ears flopping wildly, her big eyes wide with ecstasy, her mouth curved with determination. Half way through it, Harry obliged her request to hold and squeeze at her hot little butt (another thing she had seen her owners do before). Then she leaned forward and was clinging to his neck, moaning and almost whimpering high as her body thrashed in orgasm. All the contractions of her incredibly tight elf pussy caused Harry to gasp and moan himself, as his dick started to twitch and spurt streaks of gooey cum into the depths of her slick sex tunnel. She trembled like a leaf atop him as tears flowed from her eyes onto his naked chest, as she just pressed her cheek to him.
After a few minutes, her quivering subsided.
Harry stroked at her back and held her in silence.
"This is what...b-being a free elf- a free woman is like?" Mitsy quavered, sounding simultaneously awed and ashamed. "Being with people I want...? Even- even human wizards?"
"Well, yeah," Harry said automatically. "Every free person is free to...be with who they want to be with. To- have sex or- you know, more. To fall in love. To have a family. Relationships. Kids. Anything they want. Even house elves deserve all of that. Any person in the world deserves that, just...as a basic right. The- right to live."
Mitsy made a humming sound. "I...would like to fall in love, too. How does an elf- a woman do that?"
Harry flushed, despite that he was still very much inside of her oozing elf pussy. "Erm, I- I'm not the best person to ask on that one, honestly. Sorry. But I'm sure there are plenty of others you could ask about it!"
"Yes, I do have my Ministry assigned 'social worker.' She's a very helpful witch. More helpful than I ever-" Mitsy caught herself, biting down on her tongue and shutting her eyes. "She's very helpful!" she finished in a high voice.
"Great. That's good. I'm happy for you, Mitsy. It sounds like you're...well enough on your way to- to getting a nice life set up. And...and I was happy to meet you. To spend an hour or two with you. Thank you. You are a...a great woman, you know that? And- and if you ever wanted to meet up again - go out to eat, or listen to music or cook biscuits at home, or even have a bit of sex again - you can just Floo call me any day of the week. I'm living at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Because you are a...a woman I'd like to visit with again sometime."
Mitsy lifted her head to stare at him, her lower lip trembling. Then she burst into tears, clinging to him bodily as she wailed out praises and dozens of thank you's.
Harry wasn't really too sure if he should feel pleased or guilty that he had caused her to have such a strong reaction.