If you'd like to read more of my work and support me as a writer, you can visit: linktr. ee / luckyyyy1

Hogwarts starts at 15, all characters depicted in the story are over the age of 18.

"Harry, I must insist you return home to Privet Drive," Dumbledore said in an urgent whisper, leaning across the table so the multitudes of random passers-by would not overhear their conversation.

Harry felt a little concerned for the old Headmaster, not because of the multitude of difficulties Dumbledore had run into over the past two weeks, but because his beard was coming perilously close to the hot sundae Harry had ordered for him.

"I will return home. I've never argued that, Headmaster." Harry offered a happy smile and took another spoonful of his ice cream. Unlike the Headmaster, he didn't like to let opportunities like this go to waste.

Dumbledore glanced around, undoubtedly hoping to discourage the most determined eavesdroppers in Diagon Alley, which unfortunately meant all of them. Harry couldn't blame them. Two of the most famous individuals in all of magical Britain – or infamous, now that the public refused to accept the return of Voldemort – sat together behind a table outside Florian Fortescue's ice cream shop, conversing as though it was just another Monday morning.

"It's dangerous for you to be here, Harry," Dumbledore implored. He leaned back in his seat and Harry let out the breath he'd been holding for the fate of Dumbledore's beard. Now it went back to falling smoothly down his chest, working so well in tandem with the Headmaster's azure robes.

"Why's that, Headmaster? You're here to protect me, aren't you?" Harry looked up at the sky, luxuriating in the feel of the summer sun on his face. They enjoyed a cloudless sky with nary a breeze. Harry might've minded the temperature were it not for the Cooling Charm he'd overpowered, which left him feeling fresh, as though the first spring rays shined upon him.

"I might not be here every time."

"How come? You were so far."

Dumbledore adjusted his hat as he chuckled. "I mean in the future."

"I'm going to have to disagree with you there, Headmaster."

"Why?"

"Well, you say I am only safe at home. But every time I leave my home, you show up to tell me I'm not safe outside my home. But with your presence, you effectively ensure my safety, thereby proving your words false." Harry grinned. "If you think about it, the only time I'm not safe outside my home is when you don't show up to tell me I'm not safe."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, the first time Harry had seen him do that. "Your point?"

"If you want me to understand I'm not safe, don't show up to tell me I'm not safe."

"And hope you just go home on your own?"

"That's your best bet when you think about it."

Dumbledore's eye sparkled behind his half-moon spectacles. "That's the most elegant way of telling someone to leave you alone I've ever heard, my boy."

"My acceptance of the compliment depends on what you plan to do next, sir." Harry crossed his legs and focused his full attention on the Headmaster.

Dumbledore ran his fingers down his beard and said, "Death Eaters could attack you at any moment, Harry."

Harry nodded impatiently. "Thereby proving they've returned, yes."

"You mean to say you're safe because they're too busy trying to convince the world Voldemort hasn't returned?"

"Yes."

Dumbledore took a moment to ponder this latest conundrum. "But you forget who you are, Harry," Dumbledore said, adopting the voice of the wisened old man. "They might drop their act for a chance to get you."

"They had a chance at the graveyard, too. I like my odds better this time around."

"It is true you've managed to escape them before, yes."

Harry scooped some ice cream into his mouth and licked the spoon clean. "We lions are more slippery than people give us credit, eh?"

Dumbledore acted as though Harry hadn't spoken. "It does seem improbable that Voldemort would risk it all to get you at this juncture. He's got the bigger picture to consider."

Harry opted to keep his mouth shut this time. He was gambling that Voldemort planned to do just that, but he didn't want the Headmaster to consider how many times they'd failed to predict the actions of that erratic man.

"Very well." Dumbledore nodded to himself. "Since you make a fine argument, and since I see little chance of stopping you anyway, I'll allow you to move about as you wish this summer."

"Excellent choice, Headmaster." Harry clapped his hands, startling the people who'd been paying attention too closely. "You won't regret it," Harry added, though Harry's history strongly suggested he would.

"Do try to stay out of trouble, if you can, hm?"

"I will try my hardest, sir."

"Very well." Dumbledore stood with a sigh, nodded to Harry, and disapparated.

Harry stared at the spot where Dumbledore had stood moments earlier in apparent disbelief at his triumph. Then he snapped out of it, told old man Fortescue he wanted another ice cream to celebrate and went back to watching the people passing the store on Diagon Alley, daring them to look him in the eye.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry was still watching the people, high on his success, when an unexpected figure passed him. Daphne Greengrass, but not Daphne Greengrass as Harry expected her.

In school, she always seemed prim and proper, her silver-blond hair falling down her back, her uniform ironed and pressed to perfection. This time she had one of her dark green knee-high socks around her left ankle, the other pulled way up her thigh, as though she'd pulled the same sock up her right leg twice and had no strength left to pull up the second one.

Her hair was a mess – a rat's nest, really – and her black v-neck sweater had all sorts of smudges on it. Behind her, somewhat half-heartedly, she dragged her Hogwarts trunk, the wheels clattering on the cobbled stones of Diagon Alley.

Harry knew it wasn't a good idea to call out to her, it was exactly the kind of trouble Dumbledore wanted him to avoid, and it was that realization more than anything else that made him say, "Greengrass?"

Daphne stopped to locate the direction of the voice. When she found Harry grinning at her, she narrowed her eyes at him and re-started her march.

"Whoa, whoa." Harry stood up and stepped into her path. "Are you alright?"

"What does it look like, Potter?"

"It looks like you're not," Harry replied cheerfully, happy to have an answer he was sure of.

"Good job. Now get out of my way." She went to go around him, but Harry's quick lateral move put an end to that.

"Do you need any help?" he asked, holding his hands up in what was likely to be a vain attempt at discouraging violence.

"What kind of help could you offer me, huh?" she asked, glaring up at him.

"Depends on the help you need, I suppose," Harry mused, quite proud to find the answers he needed waiting for him in his mind.

"I need a bath, a shower, a bed, and a million galleons."

"Well, I can help with the first three. With the last one, I think I might like them myself, so maybe we can look for them together."

Daphne's eyes zeroed in on his face, and for the first time she stopped looking for ways around him and took in his words. "You'd offer me a place to stay?"

Harry shrugged. "Why not?"

"Because we hate each other."

You had to give it to the Slytherins, they had no qualms about pointing out the obvious, even when it went against their interests. "Well, yes, but you look so pathetic right now, there's no sport to hating you. I say we get you back on your feet and then we can resume our antipathy toward one another."

"Uh-huh, and what do you want in return?" Her cheekbones seemed especially prominent at that moment.

"Don't worry about it, I'm sure you'll think of something. May I?" He reached for the handle of her trunk, but he didn't go all the way – that might result in a painful hex.

Daphne looked at the handle, at Harry, and back at the handle. "I suppose." She let go of it.

"Excellent." Harry grabbed the trunk and then held out his other hand.

Daphne grabbed it, mostly by instinct, considering her next words. "Wait, you can disapp—arate?"

When she finished the question, they stood on the back lawn of Privet Drive, Aunt Petunia's magnolias in full bloom. Daphne swayed so Harry put a hand on her shoulder to steady her. "Warn me next time, will you?"

"I'll consider it." He took her trunk and dragged it behind him through the back door. Aunt Petunia stood from the couch, the telly on full blast, and she was about to launch into a rant when she saw Daphne stagger into the house behind Harry.

"Who's that?" she asked.

"That would be Daphne Greengrass. Cheer up, Auntie, this is the closest you'll ever come to true aristocracy in your life." Harry felt those words might improve Daphne's mood.

"She's not staying here!"

Harry faced his Aunt, giving her his full attention, and she stepped back warily. "Here's the deal, we're going to go up to my room, and that's the last you're going to see of us this summer. Deal?" When Aunt Petunia hesitated for too long, Harry added, "Refuse, and I'll go back to practicing my Charms on Dudley."

Petunia shuddered. Harry had made sure that the image of Dudley as a slug had been seared into the collective memory of the Dursley family. "Fine, just go, now!"

"Excellent! Lovely chat as always." Harry looked over his shoulder at Daphne. "This way."

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Harry let Daphne go first, like a proper gentleman.

"At least you have some manners," she muttered and took the lead with that imperious posture of hers.

"Very little, to be sure," Harry replied as he began pulling the trunk after him. When he looked up, he saw under the hem of Daphne's skirt, noticing her butt cheeks and the dark green panties she wore. Snakes through and through, these Slytherins, he thought. But he didn't mind. It was well-known at Hogwarts that even as a fifth year, Daphne Greengrass had the best bum in the entire school.

"Where now?" Daphne asked when she reached the top of the stairs.

"Right to the end of the hallway."

Harry followed her, anticipation building inside him. When Daphne opened the door to his bedroom, a small gasp escaped her. Harry grinned.

"It's—it's—" she stammered.

"Quite nice, I know." Harry moved past her into the room proper and deposited the trunk by the couch.

His chambers were one of Harry's proudest accomplishments as a wizard and certainly the project that took him the longest. Figuring out how to do magic in the summer and get away with it was complicated enough, forget the actual spells he had to master into expanding the original room to its present size.

He had high, vaulted ceilings, adorned with frescos he'd created one afternoon last summer when he felt particularly bored. Large, paned windows let the natural light in so he could relax reading on the couch. To the left was the door to his study, while the door to the right led into his bedroom. A round dining table was placed by the windows, his Firebolt leaning in the corner, and the first snitch he'd ever caught zoomed through the air. Harry sat down on the massive couch by the door with a sigh, watching Daphne with a grin.

"How—How did you do this?"

"With a great deal of ingenuity, if I may say so myself."

"It's amazing," she breathed, eyes on the ceiling.

The cream-colored walls created a nice ambiance, the paintings he'd stolen from Hogwarts a touch of class, but what he loved most was the tangible feel of magic in the air. It wasn't Hogwarts, but it came close.

With a pop, Dobby appeared in the living room, staring up at Harry with his big yellow eyes. "Master Harry has visitors, would Master Harry like something to eat?"

"Yes, bring Daphne some lunch, she looks like she needs it."

Dobby apparated away while Daphne stared after him much like how Harry had stared after Dumbledore earlier. That's why she let the jab slide.

"That—That's Malfoy's elf."

"That was Malfoy's elf," Harry corrected.

"How'd you get him?"

"That's a long story. Anyway, Dobby'll bring you something to eat, the shower is through the bedroom, then feel free to do whatever you like."

Daphne frowned. "And what'll you do?"

"I've got an idea, I need to get some reading done." And with that he walked through the door to his study and closed them behind him.

Harry couldn't rightly say how many hours had passed before Daphne Greengrass opened the door to his study. He'd created giant, floor-to-ceiling windows when he was designing the room, but then he put up thick black curtains that had the marvelous ability to block out all natural light. One could easily spend hours or even days behind the desk, pouring over tomes and writing down theories, without ever noting the time of the day. It was the only part about the summer vacation that Harry preferred to Hogwarts – he liked to go on long studying binges with no one to disturb him.

When Daphne knocked on his door, Harry realized that had changed.

"Um, am I bothering you?" Daphne asked as she opened the door.

Harry wanted to tell her that he was, at most, two months away from figuring out how Phoenix travel works, so he needed every second he could get, but then he noticed something peculiar. Daphne wore an oversized white shirt with the Arsenal logo on it – Dudley's shirt – some knee-high socks, and it seemed precious little else.

Needless to say, the mystery of how Phoenixes apparate through wards and ignore a number of other magical laws became a lot less interesting. "I'm just reading a little, what's up?"

"Reading a little?" Daphne asked, stepping into the room as her eyes went over the assortment of ancient texts Harry had spread on the table. Harry couldn't help but watch her smooth thighs as she approached him, and wondered what he might find if he raised the shirt a little.

"Did you want something?"

"Uh, yes." Daphne tore her eyes away from the books and nodded toward the living room. "Dobby's prepared some dinner for us. I thought you might be hungry."

"Oh." The house elf usually just brought a sandwich to Harry while he studied, complaining about his poor diet the entire time. It seems the little bugger's found himself an ally. Then his stomach growled and delivered the coup de grace. "Sure, yeah."

He stood from his chair and followed Daphne into the living room, where another surprise awaited him. Dobby must've drawn all the wrong conclusions from Daphne's arrival because the damned elf had conjured a chandelier above the dining room table and sent candles floating around the room. On the table, two plates filled with delicious-looking steaks, some mashed potatoes, and beans awaited them, along with a bottle of wine.

Harry took in all these changes, looked at Daphne who seemed to be waiting for some sort of a verdict, and said, "Why are you wearing that shirt?"

Daphne looked down sheepishly. "I don't have any clothes."

Harry walked to the table and gestured for her to do the same. "What about your trunk?"

Daphne's lips showed a hint of a grin. "I filled it with books from my father's library. Figured that if I sold them, it might keep me off the streets for a while."

That sounded interesting to Harry. Very interesting. "Rare books?"

Daphne grinned openly now. "Unique."

"Oh, I see." Harry grabbed the bottle of wine and poured her a measure. "Excellent."

"Thank you," Daphne said when he finished pouring and did the same for himself. "Cheers."

"Cheers!"

They clinked glasses, took a sip, then started eating. The steak was cooked medium-rare, just the way Harry liked it, and the mashed potatoes held up their end of the bargain. You had to hand it to the Malfoys – maybe they couldn't inspire much loyalty in their elves, but by Merlin, they knew how to teach them to cook. Harry allowed himself a few moments of pure bliss before he pushed to conversation forward.

"So why did your father kick you out?"

Daphne huffed and sipped some more wine before she answered. "He wanted to betroth me to one of his friends."

"A charming fellow, is he?"

Daphne raised an eyebrow, unamused. "Some shriveled, eighty-year-old Duke from France."

Harry shrugged, feeling a distinct lack of sympathy. "So? You spread your legs for a couple of years, then spend the next sixty as a rich widow. I thought that's what you pureblood princesses dream about."

Daphne cut herself another piece of her steak. "Not exactly."

"No? What then?" Harry didn't normally enjoy wine, but as he took another sip, he couldn't help but feel he might be coming around to it.

"I'm too hot to waste on a man like that."

Harry grinned at her confidence, knowing full well she was right. With her platinum blonde hair that fell past her shoulders in a waterfall, her crystal blue eyes and full lips, Daphne wouldn't look out of place on the cover of one of those muggle magazines. But then one also had to consider her body – at the beginning of last year, her ass and boobs seemed to have grown overnight, and Harry remembered Hermione snickering about magical surgery. Daphne was far from the only one, though. Most of the pureblood princesses at Hogwarts had work done the second they came of age.

"So what are you going to do now?" Harry cut himself another piece of the steak. "Find another man to fuck?"

Something about the way Daphne looked at him made his dick come to life. "Maybe… But I've got to think about the rest of the summer first."

"Yeah?"

"And I was thinking that this apartment of yours might be the perfect place, if you'll have me." Daphne shifted in her chair at those last words and suddenly Harry became keenly aware of the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra underneath the shirt.

Harry didn't really need to think about it. "Sure."

Daphne's face lit up. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you." Before Harry knew what was going on, she'd come around the table and was peppering his cheek with kisses.

"Okay, okay, you're welcome," Harry said, a bit overwhelmed.

Daphne took a step back, shy all of a sudden. "Sorry."

"It's okay. I'm just not used to this version of you."

Daphne hesitated for a few beats. "I'm a Slytherin. I can't exactly go around batting my eyelashes at Harry Potter himself."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "You'd bat your eyelashes at me if you could?"

Daphne seemed to realize her mistake and then smiled lasciviously and said, "Maybe." She stepped closer. "You know, you're weird, Potter." Another step.

She was almost on him, so Harry had to look up at her. "How's that?"

"I keep waiting for you to make your move, but you just… don't." She peered down at him as though he were some sort of an enigma.

Harry was mildly insulted. "You think I brought you here just to fuck you?"

"Well… yes."

Harry thought about acting insulted, but something made him pause. "You thought I'd brought you here to fuck you… and you came anyway?"

Daphne squatted down in front of him so they were back at eye level. "I was hoping you'd follow me in the shower and fuck me the second we got here."

Harry couldn't take his eyes off her lips. "I thought you pureblood princesses were bigger prudes than that."

"Not for our men. We're trained to be sluts for them." Daphne licked her lips as though she knew exactly which buttons to press. "And since I've been kicked out of my family, I can spread my legs for anyone I want." Her hands went to his knees and spread his thighs so she could kneel before him.

"Is that so?"

Daphne nodded as her fingers deftly undid the buttons on his pants. "Since I'm going to be staying here for the summer, I think I might as well try to make you very happy, huh?"

Harry raised his hips as she pulled his pants down to his ankles and his cock sprang free, hitting her in the face. "And what if I want to bring home other girls?"

Daphne wrapped her dainty fingers around the base of his cock. "I'm a pureblood princess, remember?" She gave the tip a kiss. "Just let me know afterward so I can go on my knees and clean the slut's juices off your cock."

Daphne bent down and licked his cock from the base to the tip, then wrapped her lips around the head. "Mmm," she moaned. "Your cock tastes delicious."

She started off slow and easy, taking a little of it in her mouth at a time, looking up into his eyes as she did, but then her cheeks hollowed and her head started bobbing up and down in his lap. She stroked his cock in unison with her mouth, massaging what her lips couldn't reach, but she took more of him with every try until Harry's cock started hitting the back of her throat.

"Glurkh! Glurkh! Glurkh!"

Daphne pulled his cock out of her mouth and took a deep breath, kissing and licking his shaft as she did so to get it nice and wet. "Do you like that?"

Harry nodded, biting his lip. He put his hand on the top of her head, burying his fingers in those silky hair, and fed her his cock again. This time he controlled the pace and the depth, and she gave herself to him completely, resting her palms on her thighs. Harry guided her lips up and down his shaft until he hit the back of her throat again, before he pulled out and had her lick his balls.

"Fuck, you slut," he groaned.

"Your slut for the whole summer," Daphne said, her eyes sparkling as she went back to work. This time around, she stroked him with both hands and her mouth felt like heaven, so it wasn't long before Harry felt his climax approaching.

"I'm gonna—I'm gonna cum," he warned her, but Daphne kept going until she pushed him over the edge. Harry felt himself explode in her mouth and saw her swallow one spurt after another until there was nothing left. He slumped in the chair, staring down at her through half-lidded eyes.

Daphne scooped some of the cum that escaped down her chin and licked her fingers clean. "Your cum tastes amazing." Then she stood and walked toward the bedroom, taking off the oversized t-shirt as she went. She looked over her shoulder, her ass on full display, and said, "I'm gonna take a shower. Wanna join?"

If you'd like to read more of my work and support me as a writer, you can visit: linktr. ee / luckyyyy1