Chapter Sixty
Hogwarts had a field day with Rita's revelations of his engagement to Daphne. Compared to the reveal of Cissy being his Mistress, there was less shock but also less cheer. Before, there'd been an atmosphere of 'give her one for me'.
But his new nuptials resulted in more visible dismay. His Hogwarts girls had reported in that there was much muttering of having lost him to the dark side. Murmurs of him sliding down a right-wing rabbit hole. Hannah had heard a Ravenclaw call him a Niffler — attracted to shiny things.
Even his friends had been a little doubtful, in between their congratulations and rounds of back patting.
"She'll make a beautiful wife, Harry." Neville shook his hand and leaned in closer. "But you're sure she'll make a good one?"
"Don't worry," He smiled broadly. He wasn't sure himself. "I have her under control."
That much was certainly not true. He'd been avoiding his devilish Slytherin, unsure what to do with her. She sat proudly at the Slytherin table at meal time, loftily reigning over the ambitious suckers who now thought to suck up to her, carefully not meeting his eyes.
Harry couldn't even wait for the news to die down, since Rita Skeeter was making the most of it. The witch was pulling double duty, writing for the Prophet and Witch Weekly too — the magazine's headline blared 'DO BLONDES HAVE MORE FUN? HARRY SEEMS TO THINK SO!'
Daphne and Cissy were on the front cover.
Hermione pursed her lips as she read the subtitle. "A scientific look at whether bleaching it beachy will improve your life and your love life!"
Harry rubbed his aching forehead. He was sure Daphne had released the news to the Prophet, but he hadn't a clue how to punish her. Hard-railing her sweet cheeks didn't seem to do it.
Which meant he'd taken the heroic decision to spend his time avoiding the problem and the rumour mill by avoiding the castle completely, in favour of France.
And Fleur.
He couldn't get enough of her. He wanted her constantly, by his side, under him, riding him. More than a beauty, she was an enigma that surprised him constantly.
A day out in France. He showered with her, pressing himself against her slippery behind, lathering her in soap and lubricating her tits in suds. But when he tried to push her down to her knees, she elbowed him. "I am not getting my 'air wet, 'Arry!" She chastised.
He stroked himself as he watched her get dressed, knowing she was watching him in the mirror, wondering if he was going to threw her onto the bed and pound her.
He could tease too.
When she was ready, he wanted to impress her, so he Apparated them to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Of course, the haughty girl hadn't been interested.
"It's too cold, 'Arry." She shivered, hugging herself.
"Maybe it's what you're wearing." Harry muttered. Strappy sandals, a white pleated miniskirt and had matched it with a black sheer corset, pushing her tits up proudly.
She sniffed. "Ze tower is so stéréotypée, non?" She sighed, looking out over the Paris horizon, hands on the railing. In the afternoon sun, she looked more beautiful than ever, the sun giving her a golden halo. "You English theenk zat France is just la tour Eiffel."
He rolled his eyes. Fleur would complain about anything.
Thankfully, she was more agreeable with a cock in her. He held her from behind as they watched the horizon, just a regular couple in love, except for his wandering hands.
She squirmed when he pressed his jean-clad bulge against her behind, his body pressed against hers to hide themselves from prying eyes.
"'Arry, not here." She admonished. "You want zat sort of girl, go to Bois de Boulogne!"
Harry slowly unzipped, looking around the high floor. It was quiet, too cold for most and the others were too busy looking at the horizon.
His cock nudged her panties aside and pushed into her warmth.
"Oh!" She squeaked.
Harry couldn't move or it'd be obvious, so he just held her tightly around the waist, breathing hard into her ear.
It was up to her. Slow bumps, shifting back and forth, a breathy surrender. Her ass wiggling to push him further in.
Standing, a tight embrace, a hidden intimacy — yet it was somehow hotter than the rough passion of their first time.
He leaned down to bite her bare shoulder as she rhythmically squeezed his cock.
"Fuck," Harry murmured — Fleur could tighten her cunt's muscles with unbelievable control.
Fleur made a strange gasping sound, shifting her hips to bunch her skirt a little higher. Her side-pulled panties were rubbing against his cock, but it only added to the heat of her pussy.
It was sex played in the minor key — minor squeezes of her legs together, minor arches of her back, minor pushes to nestle further into her wetness.
Harry changed the note, his hand dropping from her waist to under her skirt. His fingers found her clit, gently conducting her moans to a higher pitch.
Her soft, plump bottom ground against him, her wetness soaking his shaft. Harry grinned as a cold gust of wind brushed against them, making her shiver, the most movement she'd made.
His cock throbbed eagerly. Slowly, he circled her clit.
"I'm close." He warned but she just breathed heavily, her eyes closed. Harry held Fleur tighter, resting his chin on her shoulder, so close to climax. Sex without a Notice-Me-Not charm, without an Invisibility Cloak, with his personal blonde sexpot Veela. A fantasy he hadn't known he had.
Fleur Delacour, gently quivering, getting off in public.
"Slut." He teased.
Her next shiver wasn't from the wind and it set him off.
Harry rocked forward, unable to control himself. His body pulsed.
She flinched, gripped the railing even tighter and then eagerly pushed her ass back.
"Fleur," Her name breathed into her ear as he spilled, his eyes shut tight, squeezing her hard because he couldn't thrust, couldn't push.
It felt like an eternity before he finished, gasping for breath. Fleur said nothing as he looked around in a panic.
No one had noticed. Had they? A spotty schoolboy was gaping at them.
Harry coughed, pulling out gently. He winced at the wet squelch and stuffed himself back in his jeans.
Fleur said nothing, ever high-and-mighty, even as her thighs glistened, even as she slid her panties back into place, recovered her breath and tugged her skirt hem down. She tossed her hair into voluptuous movie-star waves and sniffed as she turned.
"You should take me to dinner now, I'm bored." She ordered.
Harry had to laugh.
Naturally, she'd veto'd the first ten restaurants he'd suggested for a place that had more waiters than guests.
"You 'ave to eat at a place with class, 'Arry, if we are to be together. Class is everyzing, comprendre?"
He kept his mouth closed, too drained to argue that he'd just fucked her in the most tourist-filled place in France, which wasn't particularly classy.
Still, despite a cleavage-baring corset and miniskirt, Fleur didn't look out of place in the restaurant, even if Harry had to use Sticking Charms on her top to calm his own nerves.
The waiters loved her. "Oui, oui! A classic dish for ze classic beauty!" The waiter cried when she ordered the bourguignon.
Harry ordered another glass of wine to keep his lips shut. In his mind, Tom said what he couldn't.
"The whore is leaking a gallon of seed and still acts like a queen." He snorted.
Harry wouldn't have phrased it quite like that, but Fleur was a puzzle that he couldn't figure her out. She denied him as much as she allowed him. Just when she'd settled into playing the disdainful prey for his male desires, she'd flip the switch.
After the main course, sipping on a dessert wine, he sighed contently, people-watching. Until he'd realized his companion had disappeared…and then felt her soft fingers unzipping him.
Her panties, heavy with a thick pool of his seed, wrapped around his cock as she jacked him off. In no time at all, he was spurting directly into her mouth.
She wiped her lips with her napkin as she reappeared on her seat, her smirk impish.
"Dessert was wonderful, merci." She told the waiter.
"But ze creme brulee will be another five minutes." The man said confusedly.
Harry knew love. But he thought he was obsessed.
"She is merely a new toy for a greedy child." Mei Chang said dismissively. Perhaps it was true — with each new love, he isolated them, spent everyday learning everything about them.
The summer of love he'd spent with Narcissa, finding out how her breath caught when she came, learning how a woman thought so cold could run so hot.
Nights with Apolline, learning how unashamed a woman could be, skinny dipping in the river in the midnight hours.
Hermione, learning how a friend could also be a lover.
What could he learn about Fleur? Or rather, what would she teach him?
"Eat from ze outside in, a new set with each course." She told him as he boggled at the array of cutlery in the restaurant.
"Step on ze side of traffic when you are wiz a lady." She instructed as they walked.
"Don't sit until I do." She pinched his arm on the metro.
"Why are we taking Muggle transportation?" He murmured back.
She placed his hand on her thigh, her smile smug. "Clearly, you want to show me off, non?" She gestured to the busy train and the jealous glances of the men and women aboard. "Metro."
"Where are we going?"
She stuck her nose in the air. "A man navigates, not a lady."
Harry shook his head. The jealous passengers didn't know how lucky they were.
Fleur wasn't wrong. He did want to show her off. She was a prize he'd won.
"You'll need a dress." He told her as he led her into a small boutique.
"Oh?" She smirked.
"Nothing classy."
She rolled her eyes. "Bien sûr."
Harry's balls were aching from over-use, but he still felt a frisson of excitement when she pulled him into the dressing room. Fleur was in a delicate pink bra and panties and stiletto heels, but she sank to her knees to blow him.
She waited until he was just about to cum before pushing him out of the dressing room.
Harry had to pay the shop assistant double to stop him shouting.
"What was that for?" He grumbled once they left.
Fleur smirked as she touched up her lipstick. "I'm trying to teach you class, d'accord? Class, 'Arry."
"You pulled me in!"
"You should have said no." She giggled.
He took her back to the nightclub, the same one they'd been in Halloween. It felt like a decade ago that he'd been here with the Muggle girl, Brigitte, trying not to stare too hard at the Veela in her satin bunny bodysuit and fishnets.
He'd come a long way. Even back then, with Apolline's body and heart his and his alone, Fleur had seemed unattainable.
Now she sat on his lap, slapping away his wandering hands. She was glowing, introducing him to some friends of hers, but he didn't even take in their names.
Instead, he pulled her onto the dancefloor. This was her natural environment, a light in her eyes as she danced.
She glowed — literally, in a gold mesh diamante minidress, reflecting the club lights in metal and rhinestones. Scooped low, backless, sides slit, the dress was ridiculous, showing far more than it covered.
But it was a dress made for Fleur, entirely comfortable with all eyes on her. She danced with him, around him, on him. Rubbing against his front, twisting to ground her ass against his groin, twirling away with a teasing laugh.
When he pulled her close, hands sliding from her hips to the sides of her breasts, she wrapped her leg around his back. Arms around his neck for a kiss, a look of promise delivered through her eyelashes, allowing him his victory; the jealous murmur of the all the guys on the floor.
And then she was away, dancing by herself, a bird who couldn't be caged.
Harry was content to try and keep up with her until her teasing pushed him too far. Too many flashes of her panties, provocative bends of her waist, or straps falling down her shoulders.
He wrenched her into the club bathroom, lifted her onto the sink and spread her legs wide.
"Slut!" He accused, ripping her panties off.
"No class, leetle boy." She growled. But she used one long leg to keep the bathroom door shut as he plunged into her. Her orgasmic shrieks barely drowned out the thumping on the door.
They left the tap running to drain his cum down the sink.
At the end of the night, he took her back to the chateau.
Fleur wasn't able to play the tease here, not under her mother's watch, not with the chain back around her neck. Harry finished inside Apolline, one hand in Fleur's mane to make her tongue her mother's rosebud.
"So classy." He mocked as he pushed her head into Apolline's used pussy.
Even when he forced her, Fleur never admitted defeat. The next morning, she insisted on jogging to their cafe.
"I need to keep trim, non?" She twirled her hair around her finger. "Ze sex is 'ardly good enough as exercise."
Harry crossed his arms, unamused. He'd lasted for hours the night before, even with two Veela.
Still, he couldn't hide his secret thrill when she sat opposite him, glowing with sweat, in a little cotton sports bra and hip-hugging short lycra shorts that weren't even long enough to cover all of her peachy cheeks, digging into the skin and making her lower bubble-butt bulge and jiggle, so tight they dug into her pussy mound.
Harry was obsessed. It wasn't just her attitude, but her outfits. He'd seen girls who dressed like her on TV, in magazines. But he'd never imagined having one.
The sexiest thing about her was her lack of shame. It drove him fucking insane.
Her toes curled around his cock as he drank his coffee.
"Aww, poor 'Arry needs energy." Fleur giggled when he ordered a second coffee. "He can't keep up wiz a real woman." She told the waiter.
Harry grimaced — she wasn't even wrong. He felt like he'd gone through all three tasks of the Tournament in one night.
After breakfast, he had to go to a corner shop to get an energy drink. He'd had felt less tired after a Cruciatus.
Fleur never let up. "'Arry, shall we buy some coconut oil? In case you want to try it dans le derriere?" She cooed loudly, plucking her shorts out from her asscrack as they threatened to disappear.
The pack of teenagers buying cigarettes had to pick up their jaws.
"I should probably get back to Hogwarts." He told her reluctantly.
"Non." Fleur said simply. "Come, you shall take me to ze beach."
"I will?"
"Oui. I will wear somezing slutty and you will rub me in oil, d'accord?" She bit her lip. "You will buy me many cocktails. If you still want 'Ogwarts in an hour, pas de probleme."
He didn't go back to Hogwarts, it turned out, mostly because drunk Fleur was even more amorous than sober Fleur — she spent half the time trying to get him to lotion the many inches of skin she hadn't covered with her cream crochet bikini, and the other half trying to make his cock spurt its own lotion.
At the end of the day, Harry was drunk and exhausted — Fleur could outdrink and outfuck him. He practically ran back to Hogwarts — it felt like an escape, for his mind and his balls. Having a Veela girlfriend wasn't easy.
The spotty teenagers didn't know how lucky they were. She's a demon!
###
"Don't forget to do a second layer." Daphne sighed with satisfaction, reclining back in the Common Room armchair as the second-year student polished her toenails.
"Yes, Daphne." The girl said dutifully.
Daphne couldn't help a little smugness. Her plan had worked — Susan was out of the picture. She wasn't turning up to classes or meals, no doubt crying into her pillow like the baby she was.
Good. Harry doesn't need weak women.
Whichever idiot had hexed the Bludger into rearranging Susan's face had almost fucked it all up for her — darling Harry was a sucker for a sob story, bless him.
She hadn't been able to dissuade him from the Veela slut, but that was okay. Everyone knew the spell Fleur had cast on the Hogwarts boys in her year at the castle — Harry was never going to let her get away.
And, she thought, even if the French whore was irritating, she wasn't a threat. Just another sex toy.
Daphne shifted in her seat, curling her toes. Maybe she'd even get some use out of the Veela — she missed Tracey's talented tongue.
The blonde beauty purred in satisfaction. Another younger student was carefully brushing her hair, grooming it softly.
The perks of power.
Slytherin hadn't all responded well to her new…ascendancy. Some sucked up. Some were giving her dark looks, muttering nasty things behind her back.
And some, like Pansy Parkinson, were avoiding her completely.
Trying to, at least — the girl was hiding under her curtain of sleek black hair as she studied a huge dusty Potions tome with Millicent Bulstrode. Group projects — the bane of every introvert who wanted to hide in their room.
Daphne fidgeted with her necklace. What was the point of winning if you couldn't mock the loser?
"You know," She couldn't remember the name of the girl who was doing her toenails. "Maybe Harry and I can get you a nail salon after Hogwarts."
The girl gasped. "Really?"
"Sure," Daphne shrugged. "It's not like I can't afford it. You'll have to only stock Primpernelle's cosmetics, though, I can't stand that cheap Glamchops stuff."
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Pansy flinch — she knew the girl had switched brands recently.
Far from cowed, Pansy glared back at her. "Do you mind? This room's meant for everyone, not just your victory parade for Potter allowing you to kiss his ass the rest of your life."
Daphne held her hand to her mouth in mock-shock. "I'm so sorry, Pansy, I didn't mean to rub it in. Have you heard from darling Draco yet?"
Pansy scowled. "What do I care about that fool—"
Daphne scoffed. "Yeah, he was only your ticket to riches, the only dunderhead willing to put a ring on your finger. Who will marry you now?"
The black-haired girl swept her hair from her eyes and sneered. "We've all seen what you've had to do to get a ring — still sitting on a cushion every day, I see."
Daphne flushed — that jab hit too close to home. Harry wasn't gentle, not like he was when he cared for Susan.
That was okay — she couldn't deny she loved his attention however it came, that she had an awful humiliating love for his fixation on her ass. The feeling of him so full inside her, filling her again and again, the sheer warmth, the will-it-really-fit tightness. The wrongness of it.
The plug in her ass now felt comforting, in a weird way.
Daphne examined her new nails. "A witch that takes care of her wizard becomes a wife, Pansy." She looked her rival up and down. "But if she doesn't get a ring, or a House, she works on the street, taking care of every wizard. Be careful, Parkinson."
Pansy snapped her tome shut and stuffed it into her bag. "Enjoy it while it lasts, cunt." She hissed before storming up the stairs, pushing through the two Carrow girls.
The Common Room cheered and clapped when she left, always happy to see any entertainment.
"You know she'll plan something nasty for you." Nott warned.
"Eh, she's got no bite." Daphne dismissed.
"Greengrass." The two Carrow twins said in perfect unison, their dark auburn hair combed to perfect straightness behind them. The Creepy twins, some called them, but never in earshot. "We wanted to congratulate you on your engagement."
Daphne eyed them both for any falseness and relaxed as she found nothing. "Thank you."
The twins turned and disappeared through the stone wall entrance.
The Common Room returned to its quiet buzz. The two girls returned to their duties servicing Daphne, brushing her hair, polishing her nails. Daphne flexed her toes in satisfaction.
"Enjoy it while it lasts." She repeated Pansy's words and sighed happily. "I will."
###
"Thank you, Tom." Harry took the tray of bottles from the man.
"Having some guests, my Lord? I can bring some nibbles up, if ya like." The Leaky Cauldron innkeeper smiled with the few teeth he had.
Harry glanced down at the bottles of Firewhiskey and more exotic liquors. It did look like he was expecting guests.
"Just me tonight," He said somberly. "Thanks, Tom." He closed the door on the man as his mouth opened — from experience, Tom could chat for England in the Olympics.
That was probably the case for this Tom, the younger Tom, still holding onto scraps of hair, trying to pretend he wasn't bald.
Harry poured a glass and glugged the Firewhiskey straight, feeling the warm burn rush down his throat.
It was a day for drinking.
"Happy Birthday, Harry." He muttered gloomily, staring at the fire. Somewhere, Harry Potter was being born.
Lily Potter was pushing him out, unaware there was another Harry in the world already, a man stuck in the past, a little lonely when he wasn't trying to seduce all her friends.
She brought a new life in the world…and started a timer.
A timer until Voldemort attacked. Until she died and James too, leaving Harry alone, putting him on a journey to where he was now.
Drinking alone in the past.
"It's not all bad, moron." He muttered to himself, vaguely aware that his future self was having his balls lovingly tongue-washed by two Veela.
Amelia's offer hung in the air. He saw it in the dancing flames in the fireplace, like each ember formed a strand of his mother's hair. He saw it in his whiskey as he swirled it, a dizzy sunrise of the future he could make; Lily alive. James alive.
Voldemort stymied. Baby Harry would grow up loved.
He'd never be the boy in the cupboard, fantasizing about a family. He'd never tell the teachers his bruises were from a hard-pitched cricket ball. He'd never wake up one day, so lonely and bereft, his mind melded with a madman, choosing to begin a terrible path, all to feel love.
Harry swallowed. He couldn't do it. Could he?
Amelia acted like the future was a movie she'd seen once, determined to rewrite it to give herself a happy ending.
But Harry was still the leading man in that life. There was happiness there, still and more to come. So many had suffered to give that world a chance.
His parents set down their lives to give him one. Sirius gave half his life to Azkaban. Lupin, isolated in the forests out of shame.
Dumbledore, an old man staying on the throne because he was too afraid of the next in line.
With each drink, he saw another act of love, one that he'd invalidate by making a new future.
Hermione, falling asleep in her library books, searching for whatever their problem was that year, from the Stone to the Chamber to the Tournament.
Ron, letting the twins practice their inventions on him in exchange for dueling tips, a child determined to be a better sidekick.
And the girls…Merlin, the girls.
Cissy still had nightmares that she was in her past life, married to a terrible man.
He wasn't going to do it.
But the timer had begun and it worried him. A year he had until Voldemort came to Godric's Hollow.
A year in which he might change his mind. A year to see how kind and vivacious Lily was. A year to see how James' strength and bravery might benefit the world.
A year for the walking dead to change his mind.
"Happy fucking Birthday." He toasted the face in the fire.
A rapid knock at the door.
Tom, no doubt — he never let a man drink down his sorrows.
Harry wrenched the door open. "Tom, just let me—"
Bellatrix, bloodied and beaten. She raised an eyebrow — and three bleeding cuts raised with it.
She licked her lips, holding closed a deep slash across her collarbone. "Room for one more?"
"Merlin, Bella." He pulled her into the room. "What happened?"
"I like it when you call me Bella." She said woozily. "Ooh, whiskey!" She stole his glass.
Harry plucked it from her hand, circling her, his wand working away, closing the smaller cuts. It looked like she'd had a fight with a lawn mower.
"Eh," She pouted. "He had me duel him. He wanted to show me how strong he was." She laughed, a little bitter. "He's pretty strong, turns out."
"Fool." He peeled her robes down her figure — they were so damaged they practically fell apart. A thumb to unhook her bra, releasing her full breasts. He sliced her panties off instead of shimmying them down.
"No dinner first?" She teased, but there was a tiredness in her eyes.
"Shower, first." Harry said firmly, picking her up and carrying her into the bathroom. He kicked the bathtub and it began filling up with all eight jets. He whistled and the oils and bottles began pouring themselves.
"No need to show off." The black-haired beauty grumbled as he laid her in the tub gently. She hissed in pain as the water rubbed against her cuts.
Harry pulled his clothes off unceremoniously and climbed in behind her.
She said nothing. He hadn't seen her like this, didn't even think she could be like this.
Trembling, vulnerable.
His wand worked at her wounds, seeping red cuts turned into angry red skin, closed by magic, stitched by nothing at all.
The waters turned red. Still, she said nothing, hugging her knees, a island in the tub, enveloped by thighs on either side.
"Want to talk about it?" He murmured, tracing the ridges of her spine, the smoothness of her back. Sirius had once told him about a Cuban woman he'd loved and left, how he'd fallen for her just after seeing her backless dress. "Her back, her neck." He tapped his temple. "Sexiest part of a woman."
Harry hadn't understood then, just a boy more intrigued by tits and ass. But now, he thought, he understood his godfather a little more. The flex of Bella's muscles as he bathed her, the shivers of her backbone, the teasing line of that ran from her neck to the crack of her ass.
"Not really." She murmured, but she finally settled back against his chest, resting her arms on his thighs.
"When I get my ass handed to me, I say 'you should see the other guy'." Harry suggested.
She smirked, her eyes closed, uncaring of her gently bobbing breasts in the water or his hungry eyes. "He's mostly untouched, unfortunately."
"No shame in that. The Dark Lord has decades on you."
"Sounds like what a loser says." She sniffed, arching her back to crack her spine. Harry held himself still as her tickling hair teased against his abdomen, his cock swelling under the water against her plump bottom.
"You want to be strong badly enough to kill yourself for it?"
One dark eye opened — Bellatrix was cursed with sultry eyes, large and unflinching. The eyes that made her a Death Eater more famous than her colleagues, already tinged with fanaticism before she'd even joined a cause.
"Didn't you?" She questioned.
Harry thought about it — he'd found his strength through sacrificing his morality, more than his safety. "There are things worse than death." He'd enchanted women so deeply that they thanked him for it.
Bellatrix's hand rose to touch his jaw. "Something he would never say. I marvel, sometimes, at the ways you are the same and the ways you differ."
Harry didn't want to talk about the ways he and Tom were similar — he'd done enough ruminating on that. "You always wanted to be strong so bad?"
Her words came with a hard edge. "Father didn't see you until you were mighty or obedient. I was neither and so he tried to beat me into choosing a side."
"Women should be seen and not heard, huh?"
"Mmm." She swished the water across herself, letting it soothe her aches. "Cissy became what he wanted. Andy left completely as soon as she could."
"Why didn't you?"
Bellatrix shrugged. "I wanted…want him to acknowledge me. See that I didn't follow his rules and yet I still made it, became somebody. Power, it's the only thing that makes a difference in this world."
"You are powerful."
"Not enough." She sighed. "Not yet. Power comes to wizards more easily than us witches."
"Does it?"
Her tone was matter of fact. "A man wants power, he pledges his wand to the strongest wizard. Your wand and your loyalty, it's all you need." Her fingers slid up her smooth stomach to the sides of her breasts. "For a witch, that's not enough. They ask for your body. Your mouth, morning and night. They want your submission." A finger and a thumb tweaked a hard, red nipple. "They want you to beg."
Harry shifted uncomfortably. His hard cock pushed against her buttocks.
Bellatrix laughed as he made her point with his own. "And you are no different."
He grimaced. "And Voldemort is?"
She bent her neck fully, looking up at him with her intoxicating eyes, upside down, hair tickling his groin. "He doesn't care about my figure or my beauty — he just wants to see how much blood I can spill."
The rushing water turned the water back to blue, the room steaming up in a fragrance of rose and lavender.
Harry felt heady, lost, drunk and lonely and confused by the complicated naked beauty in his arms, a woman who flirted with madness, a woman destined to fall into darkness.
"He's a maniac." He protested.
She shifted, rising up and settling back down — except now his cock was settled between her thighs, poking out of the water. Trapped between soft wet thighs, the heat of her pussy — was this her sensual surrender, her way of thanking him for healing her, or just a display of his own weakness?
"Power makes worlds change." She said breathily, staring at his cock in fascination. "I can't see if he'll make it better or worse, but it'll be different."
"Change is seductive, but different isn't better."
"He'll give me the power to make the changes I want." Bellatrix argued. "The pureblood system is broken. Daughters broken to stay in line, while sons rule like kings. The complicity in the name of etiquette."
Harry exhaled as she gently rubbed her thighs together, an erotic friction granted to his eager cock.
"You want pureblood society to change and you're choosing him?" He said in disbelief. "Dumbledore's the one dismantling it."
Bellatrix smiled up at him as his breath caught. "Dumbledore gives our world to the Muggleborns, that's not the change I want. I'm proud of our traditions, just not the part that muzzles our witches into obedient housewives." She sniffed. "A Muggleborn pays nothing for Hogwarts, while purebloods mortgage their home. How is that fair?"
"It's not that—"
"Our way of life turns from sacrosanct to sacrilege." She argued, but Harry was struggling to listen as her hand wrapped around his cock. "Hunting those vicious wild Jarveys through the forests? A harmless tradition that helped the ecosystem, banned by those Muggle-loving fools."
"It's hardly a big—"
A second hand joined her first, beginning slick strokes. "Muggle Studies is now a mandatory class? Seriously? When Durmstrang is overtaking Hogwarts in duelling and defence, the old goat focuses on Muggle Studies?"
"Muggles invented bathtubs, you know, fuck—" Harry gasped as her fingers dipped to his balls.
She touched him slowly, taking her time, trailing fingers up his shaft one moment and then double-fist jerking him the next.
Her voice became husky. "At this rate, they'll be revealing themselves to Muggles completely, and then we're really done for."
She grabbed a bottle of bath gel and squirted it onto her thighs, making them even more slick.
"T-fuck-Tom won't protect that. He'll declare war on the Muggles when its time."
"I don't believe that." Bella said slowly. "He says that he wants to bring the old ways back."
"And you believe him?"
"I don't know that I believe the word of any man."
Her slippery thighs made his cock slide through, his cock throbbing as he found himself fucking her thigh-gap, his cock trapped against her lips, brushing her labia and her clit, making her moan.
But it was clear this was all about him, her twisting palm around his thrusting cock, his precum quickly scooped to provide further lube. Her thighs were so slick they squeaked, shiny, his eyes drawn to her heaving perky tits.
"Not even me?" He bit out.
"Especially not you." She chuckled. "I can feel your hunger." Bellatrix punctuated her words with faster hands, milking him. "To gain his power, I don't have to fuck him."
"It's-it's not like that." He protested, but it was difficult to lie as his balls tingled with a heavy load.
"Isn't it?" She teased, her hips grinding and rocking against his cock, her tight thighjob making him spasm and spurt lances of cum. "The Dark Lord demands my loyalty only, wants me to take his mark, join his raids. All that, in exchange for power."
Harry groaned as his cock emerged between her wet thighs, glistening with bath gel, his own precum and what he thought was a touch of her own creamy pussy dew.
"But you demand nothing." Bellatrix pondered. "Which is suspicious in itself. Service to you, it would be done in the sheets, wouldn't it?"
She jacked him furiously to stop him lying, making him boil over.
"Fuck, I'm gonna—"
"Cum." Bellatrix ordered, rocking her thighs against him excitedly, her grip vice-tight. Her wet pussy rubbing up against him was too much. Her hoarse voice, her little moan.
He came with a groan, into her unrelenting hands that squeezed his ropes out, his balls unloading to coat her thighs, her cunt, the water itself, a volcano erupting into the ocean.
The sight of his seed marking her stomach, splashing onto her tits, it made all the better. She milked him roughly until the pearly cum turned from ropes to little spurts, until the spurts became a pooled ooze.
She even kneaded his balls, to ensure she'd got it all out.
When he'd caught his breath, while she trailed her exploring finger through his seed, he tried to be honest.
"I'd ask less of you than he will."
She looked over her bare shoulder, her ruby red lips turned into a smile. "But he'll ask it of me in battle, with a wand in my hand. You'll ask it of me on my back, or on my hands and knees."
Harry swallowed a lump in his throat. Everything hung on his next words.
She swirled her finger in a glob of his seed and brought it to her lips. Sucked her finger in and tasted it.
He spoke hesitantly. "It-it doesn't seem to bother you that much."
Her eyes closed as she tasted him.
Tasted power.
But when she replied, her words were sad. "That's what scares me."
###
"Leave us." Sofia dismissed the messenger. Only when the woman had descended all the way down the temple steps, when their attendants had unrolled the sheer curtain of warded white that hung from every column, did they speak again.
Though the messenger had left, her report hovered in the tense atmosphere.
Sofia looked at her sisters, at the beauties of different ages around the table. They ranked themselves by the color of their hair, from teal blue to lightest lavender. The lowest wore a pink bob down to her shoulders.
"Worry not, sisters." She spread her thighs to let her assistant work her tongue more deeply. "The time comes."
The oldest of them, the one that had served her mother, grimaced as she swept her lilac hair over her ear. "A second Veela."
"The Delacour daughter was a given once he took Apolline." Sofia pointed out.
Her oldest adviser looked troubled. "He's growing more powerful. And still he does not take the bait. The mermaids still live and breathe."
Another Veela bit her lip. "We cannot execute our plan until he is here, his magic exhausted, his energy low. The mermaids were meant to tire…"
Sofia held up a finger to silence them. "We can use the Delacours to bring him here. We shall play on their loyalty. I alone can attract his simple libido."
"We cannot afford to lose you of all to him. His scent, his power, it's—"
"Resistable." Sofia finished. She cocked her head. "Admittedly, we may have to sacrifice some of our younger ones to him, to distract him."
Those who sat at the table of power turned to each other. They exchanged glances and then finally nodded.
"Ply him with pussy." One murmured.
Sofia shivered as she imagined him. Glorious, manly, burying his cock into some pretty young thing, fucking her into mindless oblivion. In this very temple itself, perhaps.
And at his moment of climax, distracted completely, they'd complete the ritual.
True power.
She came in a flood of juices around her assistant's tongue, making the girl gurgle and moan as she tasted royalty.
"It is fitting, no?" Sofia smiled. "We shall gift him his own downfall."
###
Tonks was struggling with her mission. Harry was out of the castle as much as he was in it. Nobody seemed to give a good answer as to where he was, either.
How am I meant to seduce someone who is barely at school?
She pondered as she sat by the fireplace, ignoring Ginny's glare. The girl seemed to think she was the reason Harry wasn't confessing his love for her, and not the fact that the horny Boy-Who-Lived was probably spending every waking minute with his new Mistress.
Tonks almost felt sorry for Narcissa.
"Focus, focus, focus!" Ron barely restrained a sigh as his attempts to teach Lavender a basic spell failed.
"I am focusing!" Lavender said crossly. The spider in the box had turned copper, but it was certainly not a goblet. "Why is Transfiguration always about turning things to goblets? Everyone has goblets."
Ron bit his tongue.
"Why isn't Hermione teaching you?" Dora asked. Everyone knew you could get Hermione to tutor you easily, just by doing the magic wrong in front of her. The girl couldn't help herself.
Lavender sighed. "She's got detention til like, midnight. And, like, she won't even give me her old notes even though I know she writes down everything."
"Hermione? Detention?"
The ditzy girl giggled. "Professor Flitwick got cross because she spent a whole lesson doodling hearts with HP in them."
Dora snorted. The bushy-haired nerd had been bitten by the lovebug hard.
"Okay, let's try again." Ron said tightly. "Focus on the task."
Dora hummed as Lavender tried to do the basic spell again.
Focus on the task.
She didn't need to seduce Harry. Dumbledore just wanted her to learn the secrets of his power, and had heavily implied that she needed to honeypot him in order to do it.
But…what if there was another way?
Like the bedroom of his closest friend, the bed he spent most of his schooltime? Who knew what secrets could be hiding?
Hermione wrote down everything, after all.
Hermione was at detention. Harry was out of school. It was perfect.
She yawned theatrically. "I'm gonna go to bed, I think."
"It's not even that late." Dean said, face reddening as her blouse rode up.
"I'm so tired. Double Potions, you know?" Tonks made her escape up the stairs to the girl's dormitory…and once she was out of sight, closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, she was Hermione. Just in case someone catches me snooping. A wave of dizziness swept over her as usual — Metamorphing wasn't easy.
She grabbed her own chest experimentally. "Not bad, bushy."
Focus.
Hermione shared a dorm with Parvati and Lavender, but she'd cordoned off a whole corner, at first for all her books and then for Harry's visits.
She pushed through the curtains. Some basic wards didn't stop a trained Auror.
"Merlin, Hermione." She held her nose. The room smelled like a whorehouse and didn't look much better. Lacy panties on the floor, hanging on the chair. A tiny Gryffindor uniform hanging by the window, the skirt stained white. There was a nurse's cap on the side-table and a feather duster.
She wrinkled her nose.
"Papers, look for papers." She muttered. The desk was filled with homework — two essays on the uses of wormwood — Hermione was doing Harry's too.
"She's such a doormat."
Under the pillow, she had more luck. A wrinkled parchment that Tonks read with amazement — Hermione was writing Pride and Prejudice fanfiction where Lizzie got assfucked.
It's always the quiet ones.
A handwritten spreadsheet where the perverted couple gave points to all of the sex positions they'd tried. Hermione seemed to give ten to everything.
Notes on what Harry liked.
"Typical man." Tonks scoffed as she read.
Harry enjoys covering my face and breasts with his ejaculate. He enjoys degrading and debasement. He enjoys eye contact, cock worship, testicle sucking, rough sex, however he is also prone to slow intimate lovemaking.
"Such a gentleman." She muttered sarcastically.
Harry seems to enjoy when I taste and clean his seed and there is significant evidence that our special relationship and my magic is boosted when I do so. To this end (and admittedly, my own pleasure), I have eagerly consumed his seed, even after he's left.
He tastes so good, his cum must be magic itself!
Tonks shook her head as she read the girl's notes — Hermione had clearly been shagged out of her mind. Young witches often lost themselves in the dominant aura of strong wizards, and clearly Harry had fucked her into obedience.
"How embarrassing." She whispered.
"Hello, gorgeous." Tonks jumped at the voice. Harry was at the window, broom in hand.
"Harry! I was just…" She felt a stab of fear before remembering that she looked like Hermione. "…in my bedroom." She finished lamely.
He weaved as he walked toward her, red-faced. Was he drunk?
"You so sexy, love." He slurred.
"I just need to pop to the bathroom—" Tonks squealed as Harry tackled her onto the bed. His hand swept under skirt and groped at her ass roughly.
"Harry!" Tonks tried to push him off, but it was no use, his fingers were sliding under her panties, rubbing at her lips.
"Sorry, sweetheart." He drawled. "Not much romance in me tonight, I'm so tired." He yawned and rolled off her.
Tonks exhaled in relief. "It's okay. Why don't you, uh, go to sleep?"
Harry took a big handful of her bottom and spanked her, hard.
"H-Harry!" She squeaked. That had hurt! How did Hermione put up with him?
"Dirty French slut really took it out of me today." He mumbled, pulling her on top of him by his grip on her asscheek.
Tonks stilled. She wanted to flee before it went any further, but could she get some information out of him while he was drunk?
"Oh? What did you do to her?"
Harry chortled, his eyes closed, his gross hot beer breath washing over her. "What didn't I do? Bent her up like a pretzel and filled her up as much as I could until it was drippin' from her pussy into her mouth."
Tonks gaped. What would Hermione say? "H-Harry, really—"
"Sorry, Mione." He kissed her cheek affectionately. "Don't mean to be crude. I'll be nice in the mornin', p-p-p-" He yawned. "Promise." He peered through one eye. "You ain't jealous, are ya? I did bond her but you're still my girl, you know."
Tonks felt a frisson of excitement run through her. Bond her. What had Harry done to this French girl? Was it Fleur Delacour — she'd been spotted in the castle sometimes. Was that how Harry got his power?
"What else did you do to her?"
Harry laughed. SMACK! He clapped her ass hard, making it jiggle. "I didn't take her ass, don't worry. She ain't taking your place in the queue, if that's what you're worried about." He kissed her forcefully, his breath hot and sloppy, his clammy hands prying her panties down.
Tonks spluttered as she pushed him away. "Y-you look tired, you should sleep."
"You're right. Give me one of your special goodnight kisses before I sleep?" He pleaded.
Time to make my escape.
"Okay," She leaned towards him, lips puckered. His breath was hot, but anything for the mission.
"You're the best, Mione. I love you so much." Harry said, excitement in his eyes. "I love your special goodnight kisses." And then he grabbed her hair and pushed her head down to his crotch, unzipping himself with his other hand.
"W-wait—" She spat out before she suddenly found herself being slapped with the most enormous cock she'd ever seen. It wasn't even hard.
"H-hang on—" Tonks squeaked, but she couldn't turn her head with Harry's iron-grip in her hair. The hot rubbery cock slapped over her forehead, cheeks, lips, wiping her nose.
It was disgusting — the stench of his unwashed cock, the strong musk of his jizz — his slit was wet with fresh cum, the underneath of his helmet crusted with old dried cum. Slimy cum and sweat and Merlin knew what else rubbed over her face, so thick she couldn't even breath.
She opened her mouth to gasp for a breath, to protest, but he just yanked her neck back and shoved his cock into her mouth.
"Gurk!" Tonks spluttered as she was fed Harry's dirty cock firmly, straight into her throat.
"You're so good to me, love." Harry mumbled. "Not many girls would clean me up after a day like this. That's why I love you so much. We're going to cuddle all morning tomorrow, ok? I'll make it up to ya."
"Glug-gah!" She gagged obscenely as she drooled, her throat bulging as it was pumped, her eyes glistening with tears. She wanted to morph herself into being able to take the enormous dick, but what if Harry noticed?
"My Mione…" He drawled and yawned again.
Tonks slobbered uselessly — she had to breathe around his cock, but that only meant drinking in the filthy cum someone had left on it.
She heard a loud droning snore.
Had he…?
The hand loosened around her head.
Tonks spluttered as she spat his cock out and stared at Harry in disbelief. He'd fallen asleep.
Thank Merlin.
She wiped her lips angrily and then her tear-trailing cheeks.
"Fucking prick!" She growled, spitting out the taste in her mouth.
She wasn't sticking around to see if he woke up — she yanked her panties back up and stalked out of the room.
If Dumbledore wants to find his secrets so bad, he can suck some dick himself. She thought furiously, stomping down the stairs.
She wasn't risking Metamorph-sneaking again, not when Harry used his girls like cum-sleeves.
That said, she had learned something. Harry was bonding girls somehow. A coven, a ritual, a harem? Or just an army. Fleur was probably the newest member.
She needed to know more but the only way to get real information was to Metamorph. Maybe in public, she thought, where Harry couldn't force his dick in her mouth.
Tonks licked her lips. The experience had been gross and Harry was a total prick for not washing himself, but Hermione wasn't wrong — Harry's cum did taste pretty good.
###
Ginny sat by the fireplace, writing on her special page as it nestled between the pages of a larger book.
Mostly everyone had gone to sleep, leaving only the dying embers to warm the Common Room.
"Maybe our plan really did work." She scratched into the pages. "Bones is crying in her room, missing every meal. She apparently had a big argument with Harry."
Tom's answering ink glowed on the page. "That's great, Ginny."
Ginny looked up to make sure nobody was watching her and then dipped her quill back in the pot. "But Daphne Greengrass, she's going to be the new Lady Black! Harry's already making moves!"
Tom's ink oozed forth. "Don't worry. Lady Potter is the real prize. Don't you think Harry will want a redhead, like his mother?"
"I guess…"
"And now there's no other redheads." Tom pointed out. "Who's the remaining competition?"
Ginny nibbled on her quill feathers as she thought about it. "Cho Chang," She scribbled. "She's not a redhead but she's really beautiful and Harry liked her a lot last year."
"I see." Tom replied. "I can see how a family from China may be attractive for Harry."
"What are we going to do?!" She wrote quickly.
The words always took so long to appear on the page. "I'll have a think about how to deal with Chang but you need to concentrate on attracting Harry."
Ginny read the words three times, a nervous ball in her stomach. That was the problem. Attracting Harry. "He just sees me as a young girl." She wrote faster. "If I was a year older, I'd have wrapped him up already!"
She'd be on her back every night like Hermione, she thought with irritation.
"Wizards are also attracted to confidence and power, women that can protect his children," he wrote.
Ginny thought about that. Fleur was confident and people said Daphne was powerful. Maybe Tom was right.
"Mum says I'm powerful."
"I bet you are." The ink shimmered. "How about we practice some spells together? I can teach you some that will impress him."
Ginny nibbled on her lip. "Nothing too dark, right?"
Tom's reply was quick. "Of course not."
"Perfect." She flipped to a different page as a student walked by, a flutter in her stomach.
Tom always made her feel better. She could imagine herself now, saving Harry from a Death Eater with her powerful new magic. People that went through danger together often fell in love — she'd read about it after the Chamber of Secrets.
The stairs sounded like a beating drum as Hermione stomped down it. She was scowling, holding a hand over her face.
Ginny grimaced — it looked like the girl's lips were shining with cum.
Hardly the right image to present.
Harry deserved better.
Ginny sniffed. When she was Lady Potter, she'd have to make sure Hermione acted more modestly.
###
Narcissa hesitated at the dark stairwell beneath her, leading to the cellar under the drawing room. It was as creepy and musty as it had been since she'd first moved into Malfoy Manor, though it no longer held all of Lucius' creepy artifacts and evil books.
With Helena's help, they'd moved all of that elsewhere, cataloging it all as Harry had asked.
She wished her daughter was home always, but the girl had to attend school. Harry and Narcissa had decided to keep her in Durmstrang rather than transfer her to Hogwarts, to recruit and scout beauties for his growing harem.
Helena had told her that she was making friends, thankfully. Harry would be so thrilled if he could nab a Durmstrang beauty.
Still, her absence rankled. If her beloved daughter was here now, she could help with this daunting task. Harry had owled her a note. It read:
Darling,
I'm certain Daphne leaked the marriage news. I don't know what to do but I do know that when I'm lost, I come to you. I just can't seem to get her under control! I give her orders, I spank her, I discipline her roughly. Hermione and Hannah helped me give her a very aggressive reminder of who is the boss, and yet?
She just enjoys my punishment, I think that's the problem.
Advice?
I miss you,
Your Harry.
Cissy shivered. Harry, she had long ago decided, was the absolutest sweetest. She held the note to her nose and breathed in — she could smell him, she was sure.
Daphne was proving to be a sharp thorn — a girl that enjoyed punishment didn't learn any lessons. She'd warned the girl on the first day, after cleaning her up, that she did not want to be on Cissy's bad side.
The cellar was dark and creepy.
No matter. Down the stairs, breathing in the musty air. Brushing off the cobwebs. Through the room of empty shelving, she pressed a hand against the stone wall at the back.
The wall swivelled away, and there it was.
Lucius' dungeon. Everything had been removed, every trace of blood and misery.
Narcissa had renovated with Apolline's help and advice. The older experienced Veela had told her this day would come and she'd been right.
Both of them had thought it would be Harry who made it happen, that Harry might enjoy using this room on her. Cissy had never thought she'd be the one in charge.
The room glowed with a soft red lighting, lights hidden in the wooden baseboard. A leather and wood incense stick burned slowly.
On the wall, a huge wooden X was stuck to the wall, with silver shackles at the end of each side. Above that, a shining metal grid hung in the ceiling, like a light fixture. Only it wasn't lights that hung, but ropes and chains.
At the side of the wall, an old vintage mahogany board had been built to hold swords and daggers, but Narcissa had repurposed it to hold different instruments of pain. Floggers, paddles, whips, feather ticklers.
Everything she — or Harry — would need. A bed of pure red leather, complete with restraints on each corner. A padded bench. A riding machine complete with a thick, ridged dildo. A dresser in the corner, drawers full of toys.
Even a metal box that was inscribed with shock runes, for that extra spark.
Cissy bit her lip, her thighs squirming. This scene wasn't her, but she'd do what was needed, for Harry.
She slowly walked to the dresser, as if in a daze. The drawer held what she needed. She stripped herself naked and picked out her new underwear.
A shiny black harness that she stepped into and buckled on one side. It sat low on her hips, two straps under her thick asscheeks, pushing them higher.
And just above her lips, an empty circle — an o-ring to hold a dildo.
She took one from the drawer, a dildo of gentle pink, because it was important to be feminine, even in this.
The large thick dildo snapped into the ring, pressing deliciously against her clit.
Cissy exhaled a long breath, taking hold of her new strap-on hesitantly.
She wanted to lead the harem. She wanted to be the Mistress her Harry deserved. Daphne might take over as harem leader when she was ready, when she was trusted, but first she needed to be taught how to obey.
Narcissa would show her.
Slowly, she walked out of the dungeon and back upstairs, stroking her dildo softly.
She felt sexy. She felt powerful.
In the kitchen, she scratched out a quick note to Apolline, asking for her help. She couldn't do this alone.
On the counter, Witch Weekly sat under a glass of milk. The headline was loud and colorful. DO BLONDES HAVE MORE FUN? HARRY SEEMS TO THINK SO!
Narcissa smirked as she thought of the dungeon in use. Her, Apolline, Daphne.
Blondes did have more fun. It was time to prove it.
Yikes, Tonks picked the wrong girl to morph into. Can Cissy pound some sense into Daphne? She'll have fun finding out. Next week, next Friday, next chapter - Harry collects his reward at the Patils, he tries to convince Slughorn to come to Hogwarts (with a little help from Hannah), and there's trouble afoot in Hogwarts.
Want to read a few chaps ahead for Indian twins, see artwork of Padma and Patil and read a few chaps ahead, along with exclusive salacious artwork of Daphne, Hermione, Cho and more from this story, as well as fun little sexy story scenes? Check my profile bio.
Free no strings art on my X right now, link in bio. Fleur as a French maid, Helena and Cissy in lingerie together and Daphne in a teddy - don't miss it. Just a taste of the many more elsewhere.