Harry was honestly a little bit surprised, when he exited the bathroom, still dripping wet, and saw a witch waiting for him in his hotel room. She was standing beside his bed, and looking around the room; the strewn out clothes, his broom, and all his other quidditch memorabilia, her back turned to him. She did turn to face him as soon as she heard the door open, however, and gasped.
"Hullo," Harry said. "How did you get past security?"
At first he thought it must have been one of his fans. The tight-fitting Tutshill Tornado jersey she wore certainly pointed towards that direction, and so did her tights, and short frilly skirt. But then he moved his eyes away from the way the jersey was stuck to her bust and the considerable midriff it revealed, to her blushing features, and recognised that pretty face and those big brown eyes immediately. Penelope Clearwater, reporter from the Nimbus Gazette. She certainly looked the part of a sports journalist. Young, pretty, brunette, and very, very, curvy. Certainly looked good on those live broadcasts, although she looked much better now, in that jersey, and alone in his room.
"Apologies– um, Mr. Potter," she said, shying her gaze away from his naked form. "I – um, snuck in. I'm P–"
"Penelope Clearwater," Harry said. He took pity on her, and tied his towel around his waist. "I know who you are. Please take a seat."
He pointed at a comfortable looking leather chair, tucked inside a small desk opposite to the large double bed. She complied hastily, likely relishing the opportunity to look at something other than his naked form.
She pulled the chair with a slight squeak, and sat on it. "I'm, um, sorry about, um, this, " she started, stammering slightly. She pulled down on her skirt self-consciously, but much as she might try, it did not extend very far down past her thighs. "I slipped in through the chaos downstairs and your room was unlocked. I know this isn't…" She took a calming breath. "This isn't normally the way I do things, but it's been four years since you took the leagues by storm and you haven't given out a single interview yet. With the World Cup on the horizon, I thought…" She looked at him, and her eyes trailed down his naked chest again. "Um, I thought I'd take my chance," she repeated, somewhat breathlessly.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "I have an exclusivity agreement with the editor of the Quibbler." He sat on the edge of the bed, a foot from her. She did not shy away from his proximity, though her blush deepened. "She wouldn't take kindly to me giving an interview to your paper."
"But the Quibbler doesn't even have a sports section!" Penelope whined. It was a nice whine, feminine, tilting. "No wonder no one has ever gotten to read an interview with you."
Well, it was true, Harry had to concede. But what the Quibbler did have was an editor with a delicious pair of long legs, and the willingness to wrap them around his waist everytime they 'talked'. That beat every other paper by more than a mile, as far as Harry was concerned. Still, in for a pound, in for a Penny.
"True," Harry said. "Besides, I wouldn't want to send you back empty-handed. Fortune favours the bold – words I myself certainly live by, and you've certainly been quite… bold, Miss Clearwater."
Penelope was slowly getting over her blush, but she still shivered at the way he said her name.
"T–thank you Mr. Potter, although… aren't you planning on putting any clothes on?"
"Well that depends," Harry laughed.
"On what?"
Harry smiled. "On how long this is going to take."
Penelope bit her lip. Harry could see her mind already gearing into reporter mode.
"Ten questions," she said. Her voice had a tilting edge. It wasn't pleading, or at least not yet, but far less assertive than she had intended.
Harry had to smile again. "It's not the number of questions that bothers me, Miss Clearwater, but what happens afterwards."
"Call me, Penny." She smiled back. "And I'm not sure I understand what you mean."
Harry raised an eyebrow, letting his innuendo hang for a moment, before turning serious.
"Is this interview going to be altered or edited in any way?"
Penny looked almost affronted by the suggestion.
"I'm not Rita Skeeter," she said, raising her chin. "Here." She took out her Quill from her bag, an old-fashioned one, and followed by an old-fashioned parchment. "I take notes by hand, and wouldn't dream of changing or twisting your answers in any way. I want this… relationship to be as enduring as it can."
"Oh, so it's a relationship already?"
Penny smiled through her blush. "It can be," she said. "I make you happy, you keep coming to me. That way we're both happy."
Harry laughed. "I suppose you want me to be exclusive with you too?"
"No," Penny said. Her smile was rather suggestive. "I don't mind sharing."
Harry raised an eyebrow at her, but this time Penny did not blush, or not as much as she had been. So Penny liked to play the game too, despite her innocent ways. Perhaps this interview would be more than interesting, after all.
"Go ahead then," Harry said. "But for every question you ask, I get something in return."
Penny shifted slightly in place. "Like what?" she asked. Her eyes were wide, and Harry noticed how doey they looked. Chocolate brown, hardly striking in their colour, but the type you could get lost in a night of passion.
He shifted one leg across the other.
"Depends on the question," he said. "Maybe I get a question in return. Maybe I get something else. You'll just have to wait and see. Still, the door is over there, if you don't agree."
Penny didn't think twice before taking the plunge.
"How did your love of Quidditch begin?"
It was as if dunking his head inside a pensieve. Harry was twelve again and he was at the door of the Gryffindor changing room, after a Gryffindor-Ravenclaw game, which they had won, of course. But the door was locked, and he could hear muffled screams coming from within. He took out his wand, and curiously opened the door with an 'alohomora' to a sight that would mark him forever.
The Ravenclaw team captain, bent over a bench, hands tied behind her back, getting railed from behind – and it was indeed a railing – by his Gryffindor teammate and captain, Oliver Wood. Harry remembered it as if it was yesterday, her naked body, those powerful thrusts, and how the girl could barely restrain herself from shrieking. Morgan something or other, a sixth year, and his opposite seeker for the game. It was curious Harry couldn't really remember her name, although he remembered her perfectly well. He remembered closing back the door too, both shocked and hard as a rock, and, like the little shit he had been, putting his ear against the door, and his hand down his pants.
Wood carried on for quite some time, making her voice break more than once, until he came, or Harry supposed he had anyways. They stopped in any case, and her next works to him, after her afterglow, were almost as erotic as the sight itself. "We'll beat you next time," she had told him. "You only won thanks to that boy wonder of yours." But they never did, and Harry could imagine that she found herself in that position a few more times before she graduated.
Harry smiled fondly at the memory. But Penny was still waiting for an answer.
"Wood," he said simply.
"Oliver Wood?" Penny asked. "Your Gryffindor captain back at Hogwarts? The Keeper for the Appleby Arrows?"
"The very same," Harry said. "He inspired in me a passion for the… game, which still burns as bright as ever, almost a full decade afterwards."
Penny giggled. "So fans of the Arrows owe their current misfortune to their star player. I'll bet they'll be thrilled to read about it."
Harry snorted. "Well, they haven't been that unfortunate. A couple of third place finishes, even a second place, last year. A nice shining silver medal for it, too."
"But always behind you," Penny said. "And the all-conquering Tornados. Four Cups in a row. You're on track to equal the all-time record. How does that feel?"
"Ah-ah," Harry said, shaking his index finger. "You've had your question. Now it's my turn."
Penny squirmed again. Literally, not figuratively.
"What do you want?" she said.
"Just a question," Harry said. "That jersey you're wearing, are you a fan, or did you buy it just to get yourself up here?"
Penny's flush was deeper now, creeping down the side of her neck.
"I am a fan," she said. "Since four years ago." She let that answer sit. "But I also bought it off another witch downstairs to get past security. It's a few sizes too small for me. It was even smaller for her."
Harry cocked his head. He could certainly see that. He imagined if she stretched her arms over her head, it might lift up all the way up to just underneath her breasts, perhaps even more.
"Do you often cosplay as a groupie to get into a Quidditch player's room?" he asked.
"Ah-ah," Penny mirrored his previous motion with her finger. Her face was warm, but she was smiling. "You've asked your question, Mr. Potter. Now it's my turn."
"Call me Harry," he said. "And answer mine, and you get two in a row."
"No, Harry," Penny said. She stared hard at him. "I don't. Cosplay, or go up to player's rooms. Today was my first."
She had crossed her legs. He was inching slightly towards her. Both those movements had been completely unconscious on both their parts.
"Always nice to be someone's first," Harry said slowly.
"I'll try not to disappoint regardless." Penny's smile was decidedly naughty now. Despite her blushes, Harry wasn't entirely sure the witch could't dish out more than she herself received. "How are you so good at the game? And do you think you're the best Seeker in the world?" she ratted off in quick succession.
Harry had to laugh. "I got good by talent, hard work and lots and lots of… practice. You know, the kind that leaves you all sore and sweaty, but very satisfied." He winked. "And trust me, I am the best at it, you can be sure of it. If you're lucky, you might even see it first-hand one day."
"My turn," he continued, without giving her a chance to recover from his double-entendre. "How did you really get up here?" he asked. "And be honest about it. The Tornados have top notch security. I can buy the lobby being a mess right now, with all the fans and reporters, and the chaos after our victory and what have you, but to get here you had to get through the lifts and past Derek. And he doesn't let just anyone by."
"I told him you had sent for me," she said simply, and without shame. "For some late night celebrations. He didn't buy it at first, but then Weasley vouched for me. Ginny Weasley."
"Of course she did." Harry shook his head. "That little minx."
"Know from personal experience?" Penny asked. "Have you ever had a relationship with her, or any other of your female teammates?"
Harry looked at her. "That's a very personal question, Penny."
Penny did not have the good grace to blush.
"Well not all my questions are about Quidditch," she said. "We have female readers too. We have to throw them a bone from time to time."
"Well whatever your female readers may want," Harry said. "I'm sorry to say that I'm not interested in answering questions about my personal life."
"I'll pay extra," Penny said, without missing a beat.
Harry raised both his eyebrows. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Penny shrugged her shoulders. The movement made her jersey strain even harder against her breasts. Harry wondered whether she was even wearing a bra. It must have been very uncomfortable if she did.
"I'm already paying for every question I ask. I'll pay extra," she repeated. "What do you want?"
The way she said it was almost innocent, her meaning was evidently not.
"What a dangerous question, Miss Clearwater," Harry said. His voice had dropped deeper in pitch, unintentionally so. "Perhaps what I want you may not be ready to give."
"Call me Penny," she repeated. "In fact, call me whatever you like. And there's very few things I won't do for this story, Harry." She pushed out her chest slightly at that. She had no need to. Her tits were already practically bursting out of the jersey as was.
"Fine," Harry said. "But if you're going personal, I'm going tit for tat. Are you wearing a bra?"
"No. On relationships," she continued. "Are you currently in one? Witch Weekly spotted you and one Daphne Greengrass in a nightclub a few nights ago. There is a lot of speculation that you two are an item now. Is that true?"
"Oh," Harry said. "Me and Daphne had our fun, but I wouldn't call it a relationship, no."
"What would you call it, then?" Penny asked.
"Partying, sex," Harry said. "Nightly recreational activities. Take your pick."
Penny swallowed. She hadn't been lying about not wearing a bra. Her nipples had made an appearance, and were poking insistently through her top.
"And w–"
"What about you?" Harry cut in. "You were in a relationship with Percy Weasley, no? I remember you two back at Hogwarts."
Penny took in a deep breath, taken aback by the topic of conversation. "Um, yes, we were."
"And?" Harry continued. "Was he any good?"
Penny's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "At Quidditch? No. He didn't play much. Pick up games with his family over the summer holidays only, I believe."
"Oh, no," Harry said. "I meant if he was any good in bed."
Penny was blushing hard again. She shifted slightly in place, but this time out of discomfort.
"Well, that's a bit…"
"Personal?" Harry asked. "Well you started it, Penny."
Penny took another breath. "Fine. No, he wasn't. We were young," she said, as if it explained it. Harry supposed it did. Still, Angelina had made sure he had gotten a few advanced classes on the subject since a relatively early age. "We didn't do much anyways. Fondling in broom closets, handies, that sort of thing."
Harry nodded. "What about now? Do you have anything solid going on? A stable boyfriend, that sort of thing."
"No." Penny closed her eyes and took another deep breath. When she opened them again, she looked at him straight in the eyes. "I don't."
"Good to know. Please, continue," Harry said.
Penny took some time to collect herself. He imagined she had not expected him to ask such personal questions in return. But if he gave away all the details of his personal life to every reporter willing to spread her legs for him, he would have long ago lost any iota of a private life, which he valued quite highly. Perhaps now she would understand better what those sorts of questions felt like, for the person being on the receiving end.
Penny changed the topic of conversation, in any case, to something less sexually charged.
"Hobbies," she said. "They tell a lot about a wizard. We all know you're brilliant at Quidditch, but what do you do in your spare time?"
Harry had to laugh. Apparently they had not departed the topic of sex just yet. After all, he had to admit, most of what he did in his spare time was chasing skirts, and the girls wearing them.
"Duelling," he said instead, which was also true, if not to the extent he played it up. "It helps me relax."
"Duelling?" She repeated. "Isn't that dangerous?" Her eyes had grown a bit wider. "Are you not afraid of getting injured?"
"It's non-professional," Harry dismissed. "I have a friend who happens to be an Auror, my best friend, really. I help him train, and he gives me a few pointers in return, while making sure nothing harmful is ever thrown my way. It's a wonderful way to release stress. Only beaten by… well."
"What?" Penny inquired.
"You know what, Penny."
Penny nodded to herself, once again squirming slightly as she scribbled down a few things. Her ability to be aroused, spit out questions, and write them down; in short, to multitask, was something to behold. It had been a while since Harry himself had been focused on one thing only. Was Penny wearing any panties? And if so, was she leaking into them already?
"Well, seeing as we're on the topic, let's talk about vices," she said. "Aside from… women, I mean. There are a lot of rumours about you. Some of your former teammates say that you have a bit of a gambling addiction. Is there any truth to it?"
Harry laughed. "Well, I am a bit addicted to making bets, but they are mostly small, and inconsequential. I've never bet large amounts of money, or in casinos, or anything of the like. It's more like a competitive thing for me. Pride is often the only thing at stake."
"Oh," Penny said. She seemed quite interested in that last bit. "So you're competitive off the pitch too. Can you give me an example?"
Another flashback. Another woman. Ginny this time. They had gotten in the habit of making bets against each other in training, back in his seventh year, her sixth. 'I bet I can score ten times against the keeper before you catch the snitch,' she had said. Harry had immediately agreed. The forfeit? Ginny had smiled wickedly. 'If you lose, you have to dance naked for the whole team'. 'Alright, but if you lose, you also have to dance naked–' Ginny had nodded, as if expecting it –'but only for me'. Suffice it to say, she had lost, and stripped for him, and done so much more afterwards. If he had not graduated a full year before her, and tasted the richness of life, and women, as a Quidditch star, Harry was sure he would have married her. He still had the mind to, sometimes, and the fact that Ginny was his teammate certainly played to it, but he had grown addicted to the game. He imagined it would be quite a few years in the future still, before he finally settled down.
"Well, I made a bet with the little Weasley for this past match. A bit of a naughty one."
Penny inched forward. The little nubs on her shirt had only seemed to get harder. Harry had to consciously remind himself to keep staring at her face.
"Go on."
"I bet her I could catch the snitch before the Harpies had gotten to 100 points."
Penny nodded. "So you won that bet, and in quite the spectacular fashion too. What did she do for you?"
"What she will do," Harry corrected, "is show me a little bit more respect as her team captain. You know the type of respect I'm talking about."
"I– um, I'm not sure I do."
Harry laughed. "Well, she's quite the spitfire, that one. Doesn't follow instructions well. I have to keep finding ways to put her in her place. You understand."
Penny was once again breathing very heavily.
"And what does, um, putting Ginny Weasley in her place… look like?"
Harry inched towards her till their faces were almost touching.
"Are you asking for yourself, or for your paper?"
"Strictly off the record," she said faintly.
"Use your imagination," he mock-whispered, "it's the type of image where she's on her knees."
Her eyes were wide, pupils dilated, her lips slightly parted. Harry almost went in for a kiss, but there was a dull thump from the wall opposite his bed. Someone in the room next to his was apparently rearranging furniture, or something that sounded like it. And Harry knew that little someone had likely done it on purpose. Their little moment broke, in any case.
"What was that?" Penny asked, turning around. By doing so, her jersey rode up even further, to reveal the rich valley of her lower back, and the thin strap of her red thong. So Penny wasn't wearing panties, after all. What a naughty naughty witch. Harry took the opportunity to rearrange the towel around his waist; his erection was getting notably itchy.
"No clue," Harry said. "Well Penny, it's been fun, but I'm kind of through with all the questions, to be quite honest."
Penny looked quite disappointed at that. "Well, Harry, I'm sorry to hear that, but thank you for—"
"Six," Harry said.
Penny scrunched her nose up cutely in confusion. "Six what?"
Harry stood. His erection was unmistakable now. Junior stood proud at attention, stretching the towel forwards towards her face. Seated as she was, Penny had no choice but to stare right at it. It was on the level of her nose.
Her mouth opened, but no words came out. He pulled on her chin, so that she gawked up at him instead.
"Six questions," he said, running his thumb on her lower lip. "Six questions I answered without getting anything in return."
"And what…" She swallowed heavily. Her voice was hoarse. "Do you want… exactly?"
His hand travelled to the back of her hair. He pulled at it gently, forcing her head further backwards and slightly to one side. He leaned down to caress her cheekbones with his lips, till they were at her earlobe.
"Just two questions," he said in a low voice. "And then everything that happens afterwards happens because you're going to beg for it. Got it?"
She tried to nod, but his fingers were entangled in her hair. She swallowed instead, and let out a breathless whisper, which may have been interpreted as a 'Yeah'.
"Were you hoping to get fucked when you came to my room looking like that?" He gripped her hair tighter when he saw her about to deny it. "Don't lie to me now."
"Yes," Penny whispered. "Among other things."
Harry rewarded her with a kiss on her cheek. A little kiss for one of his little groupies. She turned her face, trying to find his lips with her own, but he pulled on her hair again, and she merely gaped on air, looking a bit like a fish out of water. She moaned slightly.
"Final question," Harry asked. "How wet are you for me right now?"
Penny gasped softly. She didn't bother trying to deny it. Her eyes gave it away. Her nipples too. The way she was rubbing against his knee most of all.
"Oh, Harry," she breathed. "I'm not wet. I'm soaked."
Penelope Clearwater's screams put Wood's Ravenclaw hussy to shame. Harry did not hold back, giving her everything he had; and far more than she had bargained for when she had snuck into his room, dressed like such a little tart. He also did not silence her. Let the next door occupant hear of it, indeed, the whole corridor.
He did walk out of his room, after an hour or two, leaving Penny sleeping naked in his bed, amidst tousled pillows and messy sheets, not for a breath of fresh air, but with the intention of, once again, putting an errant teammate in her place. He walked over to the next hotel room naked as the day he was born – for everyone currently residing in that hotel floor had already seen him naked, some more closely than others – and burst inside without even bothering to knock.
As he expected, the little Weasley was sitting on a chair, with her ear against their shared wall, her knees spread, and her hand working furiously inside her set of frilly pink panties. Aside from it, she wore nothing except a sleeveless undershirt.
"Harry!" she gasped, at his entrance. She pulled her hand from her panties, but they were already slick with her arousal.
"Lo, Ginny," he said. "Did you really think that would work? Sending her over to tire me out first?"
Ginny was flushed, but not from embarrassment; she had lost all sense of it long ago. No, she was flushed because she was randy as all hell, if Harry knew her, and he did.
"I did you a favour. Did you look at how that little slut was dressed? I kept wondering why you took so long to start making her scream."
"Well, she had a few questions for me first, as you no doubt heard. I came here to collect by the way."
"You can't be serious," Ginny said. Her red hair partially covered her face as she shook her head. "You must have gone three or four rounds already. There's no way you can get hard again."
"Well, better finally put that famous lip of yours to good use and find out."
"Am I supposed to just get down on my knees and suck you off because you burst into my room stark naked?" Ginny asked. There was a dangerous glint in her eyes. A hint of a challenge.
"No, you're supposed to because you lost the bet, and if you're good girl about it, I might fuck you afterwards. Now crawl to me."
She did. Looking at him in the eyes, and swinging her hips.
That's what made Ginny Weasley so irresistible to him, he thought, as she went to work. One moment she'd be on her back, knees well apart, and begging submissively for just another inch, and the next she would be trying to throw him off his broom, laughing and calling him names, and trying to humiliate him through one of her little bets. She played the game, almost as well as Harry did. And unlike Harry, she was not a sore loser about it.
She proved it once more, by getting him hard in no time with that talented tongue of hers.
Harry took her by her brilliant hair, and pulled her off his cock. A string of spit joined her lower lip with her crown. She wasn't shy about using her mouth's natural lubricant, the little Weasley was. She was also so bloody fit she never had trouble getting him hard, even without her tongue.
"Tell me, Gin," he said with a smirk. The game above all. "How does Penny taste?"
Her eyes flashed with anger, but he forced his cock back down her throat. She did not gag. She had lost that reflex too, a long while ago. He fucked her throat, and then he played with her ass, before finally shagging her proper. In the position Wood had taught him. From behind, with her ass thrust up, and her hands tied behind her back, and – his one addition – her own panties stuffed inside her mouth. All with her door open too. After all, what use was discipline if no one had the chance to see it. Fortunately for Ginny, her muffled moans were not enough to rouse anyone's suspicions. Penny's screams had likely already made everyone on their floor silence their rooms.
They cuddled in her bed afterwards. He kissed her throat, and her temple, and even her mouth, despite everything, for they all belonged to him. For no matter how many lovers she tried, in the end she always returned to him. Just like he always returned to her.
"Are you staying the night with me, or going back to your little groupie?" she muttered sleepily, as he spooned her, and caressed her toned sides.
"I really should return," Harry said. It pained him to say it, because he was properly exhausted, and he loved holding her in his arms."Poor form to shag a lady and then disappear. She might take offence."
"Luckily for you, I don't think your little Penny is much of a lady." She turned in his arms to look at him. "I hope you realise that after the way you've had her tonight, she's going to be hounding you for another 'interview' for the rest of your career."
Harry smiled. "I know. Maybe I'll have her interview both of us next time, though."
Ginny scrunched up her nose. "Another threesome? After last time? I thought you might have learned your lesson."
Harry had to laugh. "Well you used a strap-on on her. You know Daphne wasn't quite at that point yet."
"Well, the little bint already strutted around like she had a stick up her arse," Ginny said. "I thought a little plastic wand up her twat would have felt like nothing in comparison."
Harry shook his head. Ginny was very selective about his sexual partners, far more so than him. And she had her ways to make her displeasure known, as well as ruin them for him, should it come to that point. Oh, Harry was sure he'd marry her, and sooner than perhaps he might have thought. She was almost perfect for him, after all. Still, it wouldn't be tonight.
He kissed her shoulder, and bade her good night, pulling the sheets up her lovely body, and punctuating the motion with a final kiss.
He closed her door, leaving her sleeping, and returned to his room. Penny stirred at his entrance.
"Harry?" she questioned with a quite broken voice. She blinked owlishly. "Where were you?"
"Just popped outside, love," he said, as he slipped in the bed by her side, and put his arms around her. "Little something I had to deal with."
Penny sighed, and settled into his embrace. "You're not kicking me out of your room tonight, are you?"
"'Course not," Harry said. He rubbed her outer thigh slightly. "You can stay as long as you want."
Penny smiled at his ministrations. "Good. I'd hate to squeeze back into that Tornado jersey now. My nipples are sensitive."
Harry chuckled into her ear. "I'll give you a new one tomorrow. Your size. I'll even sign it, if you want."
"No need, Harry," she said sleepily, as she began to drift off again. "I've grown quite fond of mine."
Harry buried his head on her neck, to take in that delightful mix of scents, that was perfume, sweat, and sex. He soon drifted off to sleep as well.He loved the game, true, but more importantly, it certainly seemed like the game loved him too.
