The Hogwarts Express rolled to a stop, and Lord Potter was the first to his feet. "Thankyou for the lovely trip, Ladies." He gave a wink to Hermione as he passed her, all confident smiles, and took a single step into the corridor outside the cabin and received a grunted "out the fucking way" for his trouble.
Hermione, sitting closest to the window stood up and moved closer to see what was occurring, as Susan whispered into the room "ohh this should be good"
Outside, Potter stood chest to chest with an older student anyone in Hogwarts would recognise. "And you are?" Potter asked, with a tilt of his head and a smile. Roderick lestrange. This should be very good.
Lestrange wasn't alone. A trio of hangers on stood behind him, and at Potter's question one girl gasped, and the nearest hissed her disapproval. Lestrange was used to being respected, and wouldn't stand for this. "Are you looking to get hurt? Move"
Potter just smiled. "Why don't you make me?" Hermione blinked, and it was over. Lestrange pulled his wand out, Potter cast first. Lestrange's leg buckled, falling to his knees. Lestrange's friend pulled his wand and was promptly disarmed, his wand skittering off behind him, then to finish, a levitation spell. Lestrange impacted the ceiling of the corridor with a thump before falling back to the floor, flat on his face.
Potter took a moment to make eye contact with everyone present, one at a time, "any for any more?". Satisfied with the shaking heads and quiet refusals all around, he pocketed his wand again, gave the ladies in the cabin a nod, and left.
The ladies let out a mix of held breaths and sighs, and Hermione did the same. "By merlin, that man can duel" Lavender whisper-sighed. Hermione had to agree. It had only taken a second, beaten two older students in close quarters, and seemed quite happy to take on more if there were volunteers.
Lestrange's female companions were making an attempt to put him back on his feet, but clearly his legs weren't cooperating. Well, that was quite the whack he took. Hermione thought to herself, as she looked at the ceiling of the corridor. Lestrange had dented it noticeably.
—-
It was some time later before the Ladies had made their way off the train, taken the short walk to the carriages, and taken the trip to Hogwarts. It was here that they parted ways, kissed cheeks and hugs shared, as they entered Hogwarts, and as they walked from the anteroom into the main hall Hermione admired the view.
The hall seemed larger this year, perhaps slightly wider but clearly longer. As the halls size was magically dictated, this was normal, but immediately told the attentive some things- the hall was always just wide enough to fit the faculty's table at the head of the room, so if the hall had gotten wider the faculty had grown, and the halls length was similarly linked to the length of the students tables which meant the tables had grown.
Hermione made her way to the Gryffindor table, this year on the far right, and paid close attention to who was sitting where. Generally, the higher class students sat towards the front, the serfs sat at the back of the room away from the important conversation. So, that was her, but with a close relationship with a noblelady, and being now a fifth year, she could afford to move forward a little and she went as far forward as she dared- only about a third of the way down.
She found herself sat amongst a mixture of younger students from magical families, older students without her capabilities, and the utterly apathetic or unpopular gentry- breeding wasnt everything, after all, and not everyone flourishes under the pressure of the great families.
Lavender sat further forward, rubbing elbows with a better class. It wasn't a slight against Hermione- The browns were a magical family, well established, but without any major support from the upper echelons of magical society. She had a duty to her family to make what impact she could amongst her equals, or better.
On the Hufflepuff bench, Lara and Lady Bones were in much the same positions. The Heywoods were a magical family, nothing special, and she sat about as far back as Hermione did, while Bones was right near the front, sat next to Lady Abbott. The Abbotts were a major family in much of the south-east, and the Bones were who they were thanks to the Abbotts- It was expected, but also a privilege, that Susan would be allowed to sit with Hannah at the front.
While the students waited for the teachers to file in and take their seats- the students would wait for the faculty, and not the other way around- there was only one conversation Hermione could hear, from every mouth and on each table- Where will the Lord Wessex be sorted?
In fact, she wondered to herself, how will he be sorted? She'd never seen a sorting of a student past their first year before. The sorting hat already sat at the front of the room, on its little wooden stool as always, and so it was unlikely that he had been sorted in private. If he was, then he'd be here, sitting at a table already, wouldn't he?
The teachers walked in from a door at the far end of the hall, a private entrance only for faculty, and Headmistress McGonagall took her seat last, leaving only a single chair empty. As McGonagall sat, through the door walked the missing teacher, Deputy Headmistress Sinistra, followed by a single student- Harry James Potter, Lord Wessex.
Everything about the way he walked spoke of confidence- he was already taller than Sinistra, who was no short lady, and while she strided he kept pace with a smile. He didn't look at the students, but he did take a look at the room, the arched roof, stained-glass windows, the huge house banners in the bright colours.
Without a word he stopped at the steps onto the platform that the teachers table sat upon. Sinistra walked up them, and took up a place behind the sorting hat and its stool. For a second she and Wessex looked at each other, then she spoke loud enough for the room to hear, "Harry Potter". No titles here. The school cared not for who you were. It was the students that divided themselves by class.
Potter walked the few steps as Sinistra lifted the hat, she gave a nod to indicate him to sit, which he did, and she placed the rather large hat on his head. Generally, the hat would take only a moment before a rip forming a mouth would speak the house the student now belonged to. For Potter, the moment dragged.
Hermione could see the hat moving slightly, and Potter looked up at it, said something, and gave a shrug. Were they talking?! Another moment passed, and finally, the hat bellowed "Slytherin!" and immediately the green bannered table erupted into cheers and applause. Some stood to greet him as he made his way over to join his new house- a seat at the very front had been saved for him, ofcourse.
The applause ended as soon as it started however, when he got to the table. He stopped, and made eye contact with another student, the one sitting across from what would be the seat Potter would take. With a thrill Hermione realised who it was he'd stopped for, who it was he was looking at- Roderick Lestrange. As the room went quiet, he said, loud enough to be overheard "Lestrange", gave the boy a nod, then walked right past him, and took a seat maybe a third of the way down the table.
As he sat he made his greeting, shook hands, smiling, as at the other end Lestrange covered his face with his hands. He had picked a fight with a Lord, he had been spectacularly embarrassed then, and now scorned in front of the whole student body.
Then the whispers began, every table breaking out in hushed discussion- Harry Potter, Lord Wessex, sitting amongst his lessers! and what this would mean for Roderick going forward.
Potter seemed happy enough, Hermione thought, as he made conversation with the boy sitting next to him, hand on his shoulder. He looked around the room for a moment, found Hermione's eye from across the room, gave her a smile that reached those beautiful eyes of his, and her heart leapt into her throat.
—-
This was frankly ridiculous. To be snubbed for sitting with this bore.
In the Slytherin common room, the better people had made their way to the chairs in front of the fire, the best seats in the best spot- Lord-Heir Draco Malfoy, Lady Millicent Bulstrode, The Greengrass Sisters, Baron Theodore Nott, Lady Bridgett Burke, a suitably perturbed Roderick Lestrange, and Pansy Parkinson.
Pansy was not a happy girl. Lord Potter had walked into the slytherin chamber, took one look at the seat they had kept for him, nodded a respectful greeting to Draco specifically, his only real peer in the room, and then turned his back on the lot of them and gone to sit with the rabble.
"For the love of merlin, strange. What do we do now, hmm?"
Malfoy had spoken, directing the question at Lestrange, and he seemed about as angry as Parkinson. His anger was understandable. He had been put in a tricky situation. Malfoy was the heir of the isles, its next Lord, and Lestrange stood to eventually inherit the Lestrange estate. They were naturally expected to be friends- the Lestranges had been the right hand men of the Malfoys for sixty years, and that was generally expected to continue.
The isles, the territory made of every small island in britain, were not the most valuable lands, and while the Malfoys themselves were spectacularly wealthy, allies and trade was necessary to keep the isles afloat. There was a reason the isles were quietly mocked as "isles and sundry"- they were the leftovers once the rest of Britain had been portioned out.
Wessex, and by extension the Potters, was the exact opposite, to Parkinson's understanding. Wessex, which actually stretched to lands and encompassed everything south of London, was wealthy. Very wealthy. More importantly, Wessex had the strongest hold on London, and most of London's money was Wessex money. The Potters kept little for themselves. They didn't have to- a fraction of a percent of all the business in London and Wessex was an unspendable amount of gold.
"Do you understand the position you have put me in? Do you know what you might cost me?!"
Malfoy clearly saw in Potter the kind of opportunity that only passes once in a lifetime- a friendship with Potter, and therefore priority access to Wessex ports, would be a greater achievement alone than everything his father had managed in all his years.
Parkinson saw another kind of opportunity. The Parkinsons were not made of galleons like many of the other families. When the wizards made their power grab the Parkinsons were already struggling financially, and when it came for the families to make their claims, the Parkinsons came out with nothing but their name and pureblood status- valuable, but not "the entirety of Anglia" valuable. A marriage to Potter would save her family from its slow decline.
That was the plan, and it was already not going well. Twice now, he had refused to sit with her before she could even introduce herself. Not her fault of course, but still- infuriating. She'd have hexed Lestrange if he was anyone else. And now, as she looked over to watch him sit at the far end of the room the Carrow twins descended upon him like a pair of vultures, squeezing the three of them into a barely two person sofa. They wasted no time, one of them leaning on him, the other laying her legs over his lap. They hadn't even exchanged names yet! Potter was smiling! Fuck!
She wouldn't waste another minute on Lestrange's stupidity. She stood, and without a word left the others. Normally, opportunity was where the most nobility was, but today it was sat at the other end of the room- the prince sitting with the two tart twins, surrounded already by sycophants.
A young woman, some nobody, sitting across from Potter saw her coming, wide eyed, and all Parkinson had to do was gesture with her thumb- out of my way- for the girl to abandon her seat. Parkinson took it, and sat carefully, doing her best to be the image of control and sophistication. Black hair pulled tight into a ponytail with bangs for framing, perfect skin, blush and subtle lipstick. Her skirt was as short as she could get away with, paired with thigh high socks, heels. Everything black, except the flawless skin she was showing. Dressed to impress.
The twins were dressed much the same as she was, but there were simply less to them. They didn't have Parkinsons curves, her wide hips, her generous-handful breasts. Mousy-brown messes instead of Parkinson's jet black perfection. She was a higher calibre of woman.
She held out her hand, fingers down, to be kissed.
"My Lord, I am Pansy Parkinson" He looked at the offered hand, and gave her a shrug. "I'd take the hand, but… well, mine are rather busy" and in truth, they were. The Carrow twins were almost on top of him, both of his arms tucked away underneath them, and to retrieve his limbs would mean one of them standing.
Not perfect, but she could recover. She sat directly across from him. She folded her legs, exposing as much thigh as she could without being obvious. "How are you finding Hogwarts?" If he noticed her attempts to draw his attention he gave no signal. His eyes had returned to one of the Carrows, the one with her legs over his, as he slowly looked her up and down.
"I must say, the welcome has been…" he looked to the other twin, who was leaning forward, lifting her breasts. Slut. "..it has certainly been something." The twins giggled, that stupid vapid, sycophantic laugh of a woman out of her league and trying too hard.
No matter. They would only hold his attention long enough to get his dick wet- Parkinson was marriage material. They were playing entirely different games. "If you'd like, perhaps tomorrow I could show you around? Hogwarts has beautiful grounds" He looked at her then, as if seeing her for the first time. He pinned her with those bright eyes of his, and thought for a moment, "Parkinson…from Northumbria, yes?" she nodded.
He didn't break eye contact, and she found herself beginning to think perhaps she had been mistaken in pinning Potter as prey. He was handsome enough, tall, but those eyes- those eyes- they were beautiful, but there was something fearsome in them. Something hard.
Then the moment ended, and a ghost of a smile made its way across his features, "you'd like to show me around? I think I'd like that" he repositioned himself on the chair, settling in, "and what about you? Is there something you'd like to see?"
For a moment, Parkinson was lost for an answer. She watched as the twin on his left wrapped her arms around his neck, her face disappearing into his shoulder. He whispered something to the one on the right- gods, I wish I could tell them apart- and she nodded and adjusted how she was sitting just a little, leaning back, exposing white panties to Parkinson. Pansy became immediately, intimately aware of the situation. There were only the two chairs here- theirs and Parkinson's- and everyone else would be far too polite, and frankly terrified, to bother four members of high society having a quiet conversation. The worst part, though, was the seating arrangement. Potter had his back to the room, and tucked away in the corner as they were, he could do anything and no one would be any the wiser.
Ofcourse, who would judge Lord Wessex? He was basically a king. Untouchable. His smile said he was thinking the same thing. Pansy's eyes betrayed her as they flashed back to the seat of right-twins' panties only to find them partially absent. She was almost sitting on Potter's hand, and his fingers had pulled her panties to one side and two of them had disappeared inside her.
Pansy looked back at left-twin. Her wrapping up Potter, holding him close, hiding her face, suddenly made more sense. Potter's other hand was busy there too, her hips rolling slightly in time with his ministrations. She was audibly panting her pleasure into his ear.
"Lady Parkinson?" Pansy's eyes shot back to his, "I asked you a question. Is there something you would like to see?" She didn't know what to say. She didn't know what to do.
Right-twin's hands snaked up her body before gripping her breasts. Potter's hand was hard at work now, the girl's hips visibly shaking up and down as he pumped his finger into her. The girls had managed to keep any moans silent, but now a new noise could be heard- the wetness of the girls, the gentle slapping of hands on wet pussy.
Left-twin finished first. She gripped him tight around the neck and went rigid, her whole body vibrating as she rode the wave of orgasm. She let out a single squeak of a noise as it finished and her grip on Potter relaxed. He turned to her as her face emerged from his shoulder- bright red, sweating, "and what about you? Is there anything you'd like to see?" The way he asked suggested nothing out of the ordinary, not a hint of humour. Parkinson would have laughed if she wasn't in shock.
The girl, still panting and red faced, looked down Potter and then back up, and a trembling hand reached for his crotch, gripping his hardness, "My Lord, may i…" her question faltered, and he just smiled and raised an eyebrow, as if asking what she could possibly mean. "May i.. See?"
"That depends. What would you do with it?" She didn't give an answer. Instead, she slipped from the chair, down to her knees on the floor. If before she had been blushing, if before what she had witnessed was shocking, this was… well, she didn't have the words for this at all. Parkison couldn't bear to watch, but couldn't force herself to pull her eyes away, as the Carrow twin slowly opened Potter's trousers. Potter wasn't looking at the twin between his legs, though, or even the one sitting on his right hand, grinding herself to completion.
Potter was looking at her, and she couldn't look away. She felt trapped and worse than that- she felt alive. Her pulse was roaring in her ears, she was out of breath and she couldn't keep her thighs from rubbing together, chasing any kind of relief for her growing need. She knew she'd be wet. The girl between his legs stopped fussing with his trousers, and her head began to bob up and down. Parkinson couldn't help but watch- she wanted to see. See what was happening, see what he looked like. What he tastes like.
She saw nothing, though. The twin, accidentally or not, kept it from view, and before long Potter broke eye contact as he finished. He groaned, grabbing the twins head and holding her in place, as his eyes rolled for just a moment. Then he looked down at his toy, tucked himself away, and touched her face, "thankyou for that." he thanked her like it was a gift.
He stood up, leaving one twin on her knees, the other barely conscious sprawled across the sofa, and Parkinson needy and flushed. "Thankyou, ladies. Have a good night. And you…" he pointed at Pansy "...ill meet you here for breakfast?"
Parkinson just looked at him, shellshocked. "Great. And as for you two..
"...what are your names?"