A/N: All previous warnings still, and will continue, to apply. Not for children or the faint of heart, or anyone sexually conservative. You've been warned.
Thanks as always to my amazing Beta, Hrymeigh, for going back and editing everything I've already posted before digging into new content.

Enjoy, pervs.

Chap. 4: Snake Charmer

"My Father," Daphne said, "Has betrothed me to Theodore Nott."

Harry blinked. "Um... what?"

"Nott, Potter," she repeated firmly, leaning against the wall next to the door and crossing her arms beneath her chest, "Theodore Nott. Weedy, thin, bit pimply, our year? Quiet. Not one of Draco's gang, but his parents were both Death Eaters? He's the smart male Slytherin in our year."

Harry nodded slowly. That did bring up at least a hazy image of someone... "Not Zabini?"

That one, Harry knew, had been the handsome black boy who Pansy had accused of fancying Ginny.

She shook her head, "No, Nott. Are you even listening, or just imagining me in the Library, again?"

He gulped, swallowed, and turned bright red. "Er, I wasn't," he groused, leaving unsaid the 'but I am now'.

She huffed, shot him another glare, then, "My mother is aware- somehow- that I am no longer virginal. My father is furious that my dowry will be smaller, because of course, she told him. I blame you."

Harry frowned, "I didn't rape you, did I?"

"No," she grumbled, "and I'm not accusing you of that. I just... if you weren't so... you, I wouldn't have been interested, and then I wouldn't have said yes, alright? I'm just...just complaining. Well, and asking for help, I suppose."

"Help?"

She nodded, "Help. You might be as thick as Draco says, you know that?"

This time, Harry full-on scowled, apparently quite harshly, for the beautiful blonde flinched and looked away. "S- Sorry," she said quietly, "I just... I'm a little on-edge. I'm skiving off Ancient Runes to be here, you know. That's not normal for me."

"Alright," he acknowledged, though he did not accept the apology (yet). "What help do you think I can give you, Greengrass?"

One of her eyebrows rose, "I was under the impression you didn't know my name."

"Well, I do," Harry shrugged.

"Fine, it's not important," she waved the matter off, "As for help, I'm not sure. I'm kind of desperate, and didn't know where else I could ask."

"Okay, well, I don't know what you need, so I'm not sure how I can help you."

"O- Oh. That. Yes, well," she blushed a bit and looked away briefly, then returned a steely gaze toward his. "I would prefer not to marry the son of a Death Eater, one who has made it clear that, while he thinks Draco Malfoy is an idiot, does appear to support- well, your enemy. So help with that would be most welcome."

"Alr- er, I see," Harry replied, mulling the idea over, "I'm not sure how I can help with that, though."

"You can't," Daphne clarified, "at least, not directly. Yesterday, it occurred to me that I might, well, make it known about what- well, who, my, er, situation had changed with. Maybe it would give me a reputation, lower the dowry so much that my father and Nott's father would break off the arrangement. Make it worth neither of their while, you see."

Harry nodded, though he only felt he barely understood.

"But that wouldn't work," she continued, lurching forward off the wall and beginning to pace the room rapidly, "because Nott thinks he fancies me. He'd just convince his father to take the lower dowry and use that to his advantage later. Then I thought of marrying someone else."

"Woah, woah, stop right there," Harry held up a hand.

She glared at him, then continued as if he hadn't interrupted, "but that wouldn't work, because I'm underage, and until I turn seventeen, have to do what my father wishes- and he's set the date for the day before my birthday, when it is perfectly legal for him to do so."

Harry fell silent, but felt a bit relieved all the same. He had wanted to shag the beautiful creature pacing angrily around the classroom, true, and still did. But marry her? He barely knew her name!

"And, frankly, aside from perhaps you, there isn't a male between the ages of twelve and twenty that I can tolerate. Saying nothing about marriage! So that puts everyone else right out, I'd murder my husband before we got too far into things, I can assure you."

"Er... so..." Harry's brain had taken a sudden left-turn. "Are there... witches you'd prefer to, um, tolerate?"

One delectable eyebrow raised, and Daphne paused mid-step. A moment later, she resumed, though this time directly toward him. She stopped one half-foot away, glaring up at him, jaw set. "Why? Is that a problem?"

"No," Harry hastened to reply, and not out of any fear (though she was indeed terrifying in that moment), "I just... was curious."

"Not that it's any of your business, Potter, but yes, I prefer the intimate company of women. So far, at any rate. The one, er, experience we shared was... adequate. I have no complaints. However, I would prefer to remain with my current lover and not feel like I'm cheating on her again."

Harry blinked. "O- Oh. I didn't... I'm sorry. If I had known..."

She shrugged, waving him off again, "It's not like she's angry about it- I told her that same night when I reached our dorm. She's happy, because now she doesn't have to, as she put it, 'hold back'."

Harry was beginning to feel more and more confused.

Aside from the sudden revelations that Ron Weasley was, in fact, 'growing up', here was a girl he'd just shagged- for her and his first times- a couple of days previously, telling him she had already had a female lover, preferred that lover, but still had enjoyed shagging him- and on top of that, the lover in question was happy he'd shagged her, too?

"Anyway," Daphne continued, clearly distracted, "that won't work. I don't know... interested in offing someone for me?"

"Wha- I- no," Harry spluttered.

Only after several seconds did he realize she was giving him one amused eye. "I wasn't serious, Potter. I don't want Nott dead, I just don't want to marry him."

"Er... look, I don't mean to sound rude, but I have to ask this," Harry said, "but I have to ask... you're friends with Pansy, right? Parkinson?"

Daphne nodded, "Yes. All of us Slytherin fifth years are friends."

Harry frowned, "And you believe in blood purity, all that?"

The same thin, blonde eyebrow quirked up again. "I do."

"Then I can't help you," Harry shrugged, "Because I firmly don't."

"In my opinion, the two are entirely unrelated."

"Not in mine."

"So, instead of helping out someone who's clearly asking for said help," Daphne frowned slightly, but otherwise kept her expression carefully schooled as she returned to leaning against the wall near the classroom door, some distance away, "you are pulling out the 'I'm a blood purist so I must be a bigot and therefore evil so I won't help you' card. Correct?"

Before he could shoot off an equally snarky reply, Harry forced himself to stop, and listen, and think before responding.

After all, she had struck at the very core of how he, Harry, thought of himself.

"I'm sorry," he forced himself to say through clenched teeth, "you are right- the two are not related. However, I don't want to help you, because I think that yes, you are a bigot for believing in blood purity and I don't agree with that at all. I'm also still not sure how I can help you."

Perhaps it was hearing the measured, though obviously angry tone he had spoken in, but all visible signs of annoyance or frustration vanished from Daphne a moment after he had finished speaking. Instead, she spoke slowly and clearly, taking a seat at the desk nearest the door. "In that case, allow me to explain a few things to you, Potter, which might help you understand my point of view. In return, at some future time I will gladly listen to yours. Who knows, perhaps we might educate each other. But right now, I only care about why I think you're being a right arse."

Harry tried to mirror the girl's eyebrow-lift, but wasn't sure he had pulled it off.

"My family is old. Very old, one of the oldest in Europe, much less wizarding families in Great Britain. We are part of a group called The Sacred Twenty-Eight, and no, I didn't name it that, thank you. It is made up of the oldest extant families in the male line, each of which can trace their family back for more than twelve hundred years- well before the founding of Hogwarts itself."

Harry nodded, gesturing for the girl to continue.

"As a result, there are certain... expectations placed on my family, and therefore, me. That the line will continue. My father has no brothers. I have no brothers, and only one sister. It is not for lack of trying, my parents assure us. This means... what, Potter?"

He blinked in surprise at the question, but had an answer fairly quickly, even if saying it still made him blush, "You are expected to have a boy and give it your family's name, right? Even if you marry into another family and take your husband's name? Two, if you can, and maybe your sister, too?"

Daphne nodded, "Right. So you aren't totally uneducated in our ways- good."

That much, at least, Harry had been taught by Sirius, though he'd been guessing for most of it. It was what made a House 'Ancient', as in 'the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black', Sirius' family.

"So I was raised knowing from a young age two things: one, that I preferred female company to that of males, and two, that I would have to ignore that at least enough to provide an heir or two for my own family, and that of any husband. Or..."

Harry thought for a moment, but couldn't come up with an answer. He shrugged.

"Or," she said after a minute longer, "I provide one on my own. My lover cannot do so, obviously, but I can provide one... out of wedlock. As long as I and my father acknowledge it as my own child, then it is my child, and there is no chance of it being claimed by someone else, since it is illegitimate. With me so far?"

Harry nodded, but frowned. He didn't want to father a child and give it up, either!

"So I have been raised knowing I would experience intimacy with both males and females. At first, I found the idea of being with a man... abhorrent. However, some time during my thirteenth year, I found myself looking at a few male individuals and wondering what it would be like... and if it would be as bad as I had feared."

"I was one of those?"

She nodded, pinking slightly again, "Yes. Not for your fame, though I admit that has some appeal, or your money, for while the Potters were not poor, our family is considered quite wealthy. It was purely on your looks and general... capability which I seemed to focus on even then.

"Now..." she sighed, "Now there is another aspect. You are young, virile, and yes, I presume fully capable of siring children."

Harry nodded, "So far as I know, anyway. I'm not-"

She held up a hand to forestall him, "I'm not asking you to. I'm just stating what I see as facts. Educating you on my point of view, like I said. May I continue?"

After another gesture to do so, she continued, "When I say I am obligated to do this, I mean I am obligated. Not by magic, or vows, or some such cheesy thing like that, but simply because I love my family and what it represents, and I don't want it to die out. I am obligated by my own wants in this case. You want to have a family to carry on your parents' legacy, do you not?"

This time, Harry's nod of agreement was firm, even hard.

"Obviously, that would be harder with me, but you can understand the desire, at least. But in addition to just being a member of a Noble House, like yours- a definition for another time, but it doesn't come with any title like I've heard the muggles use- mine is also Ancient. I have literally twelve centuries of tradition and ancestors who I do not want forgotten. True, the Potter family is even older than our own, but has intermingled much with muggles and muggle-born, thus preventing it from being a pure-blood House. With me, still?"

When Harry said nothing this time, only frowned slightly at what he saw as a perfectly fine thing that the teenage girl apparently did not, kept on. "Nott's family is also old, and he has two brothers, one of whom already has two heirs, the oldest, while the next has one. His line is secure. That is why-"

"Your father betrothed you," Harry interrupted, "he's willing to take the Greengrass name, or at least give them to any sons you have."

Daphne replied, "Exactly. There's a little more to it, though. Nott's father has stipulated in the contract that his son be allowed to take a concubine of his choosing. And, unfortunately, Nott is one of the people aware of my preferences."

"He wants to bed you and your lover?"

Daphne's head dipped shakily, "Yes. I mean, marrying him is bad enough for me, as I can't stand him. But imagining him with his paws- or worse- all over... It's too much. That's why I need your help."

"Alright," Harry agreed, "But I still don't see what I can do. You've said you don't want to have a baby yet, and I'm far too young to be a father just now."

"Right," Daphne smiled faintly, "now. But in two years, when we're in our seventh year...? If I'm already pregnant by the end of the year, my father will hold off on any wedding plans until he has evidence of a boy or a girl. And then he'll want proof of parentage. If I tell him I won't give that to him, that it was not Nott's child but that it was mine and only mine... maybe he would leave it be."

"If," Harry said, spotting one gaping hole in the plan, "that child is a male. And, if that- that donor- is willing to waive custody. I can tell you, if it was me, I wouldn't."

Daphne sighed and closed her eyes, bowing her head toward the desk and folding her hands together atop it. "That's why... that's why I asked you, specifically. Look, I don't know you. Maybe I'm assuming too much, or I'm just flat-out wrong, but I picked you for this because of who I think you are."

"Explain, please."

She swallowed, then took a deep breath. "Look, Potter, I don't fancy you. I prefer T- my lover. But I did enjoy shagging you, quite a bit, actually. Don't get full of yourself. I'd be happy to, er, do it again. And again, if needed. In that respect, I suppose I am asking you to father a son or two for me- but not right now. The reason I picked you in particular to do so is simple."

She sighed again, continuing in a quieter, almost whisper-soft voice, "I don't believe any child should be raised without a mother and a father. I'm willing to have an illegitimate child- a bastard- that I would claim as my own for an heir, but I am not willing to raise it without a father. So I need someone who will allow me to keep any son- and preferably daughters- for myself, but still be there. Financially if able, because I don't prefer to mooch off my parents, but more as a father. Even if it's just as a 'family friend' or 'uncle'."

Harry pondered, deep and long.

But his mind kept going back, perhaps to avoid the heavier issue, to one other problem. "You still haven't mentioned why you believe in blood supremacy."

"Not supremacy, Potter, purity," Daphne was quick to reply, "there's a difference. I don't think me being a pure-blooded witch makes me more valuable or more powerful than your muggle-born friend. My lover is a half-blood, you know? But it's a point of recorded fact: Magical parents have a great deal more magical offspring."

"Which is why there are so many old families hanging on by a thread, I'm sure," Harry rolled his eyes as he spoke.

"No, the two are... not unrelated," Daphne shook her head, "But think about it. The muggles have this thing they call jeanatics, yes? It has to do with how people's pants change- er, no, their- jeans. Their jeans pass from one person to the next, including how families that intermix too much causes problems?"

Harry nodded, "That's Hermione's primary argument against blood purity."

"Well, as far as that goes," Daphne nodded, "She's right. Wizards have known that for ages and ages. The problem with that logic is that the old families in England and Ireland, and Scotland and Wales, all put together are so old they're all intermingled, and have been for centuries. Magic breeds magic. True, muggle-born pop up, and it only takes one magical parent to have magical offspring. Most half-bloods- those not born in later generations- come from one magical parent, and most of their siblings, if not all, tend to be magical as well. That's all well and good.

"The issue, then, is what happens when people who have been intermixing for generation upon generation continue to do so. Sure, you get magical children- most of the time. But Jeanatics play a part, and sometimes jeans mutate."

Harry had had enough, "It's genetics and genes," then corrected the girl's spelling, "but otherwise, I think you have it right. Sorry- go on."

"Fine, je- genes," Daphne frowned as she fought to change habit, "can result in squibs coming from pure families. We've known that for ages, too. And yes, we know that inter-mixing new blood helps to keep that from happening. But we live on an island. There's only so many of us, and it's too late."

"For now," Harry shrugged, "But why don't people just- find spouses elsewhere?"

"They do," Daphne frowned briefly, "once in a while. Nott's mother is from Finland. Vinnie's- Vincent Crabbe- is Romanian. But it's too little, and too late. We would need to have about twenty percent of the population marry foreign magical blood for that to work, for the next three generations."

"Never gonna happen," Harry agreed with the unspoken statement at the end, "the society's too set in its ways."

"Right," Daphne nodded, "including my family. But, there is hope. Remember, I like my family- I love its traditions, and so on. My family has known about my preferences since I was nine. They never judged me for it- just made it clear that I still had obligations, which was fine. In some ways, the old families are far less conservative about some things than the muggle-born would have people believe. That- well, one aspect of it- is the source of that hope."

"What?" Harry asked.

"Concubines. Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father, has one wife. No concubines. He's not rumored to have affairs, either, though occasionally he's seen in certain seedier parts of Knockturn Alley- innocently, I'm sure."

Both Harry and Daphne snickered a little. "He, however, is very unusual for an old, wealthy family. True, the Malfoys are not one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but his family is old. It was sourced in France- his great grandfather was a Frenchman who came over during the last Crusade, or something. To be honest, I'm not sure why he doesn't have a concubine. But since Concubines are, legally, able to produce legitimate heirs, he could have another child if he preferred."

"Maybe it's because Draco convinced him all children would be like him," Harry said with a smile.

This time, Daphne full-on laughed, a high, happy sound that made Harry smile again.

"Oh, that was good, Potter... I wish he'd heard it. It might even be true! A- Anyway," she had to fight down another round of giggles, "Children of Concubines- registered, legal ones- aren't required to be seen as legitimate, but can be. Because there are about twice as many witches as there are wizards in the next five years and previous four- just look around if you don't believe me- with a smaller number for the next ten after that, it's highly likely that within the next ten years, the number of Concubines in the U.K. will spike very high. Or, barring that, people will leave or bring in spouses from outside the country- either way, things should work out."

"Right," Harry said, "In theory. But what about two muggle-born? Don't they have the same high chance of magical children?"

"Yes, they do, and this is where the difference between blood supremacy and blood purity comes in- Supremacists think they are more powerful, or more valuable, because they have 'older blood'. It's ridiculous, and I'll never argue with you about that. The standard for 'blood purity', by the way, is three generations of magical parents, no misses. Four and up, with a half-blood, you're still considered pure. Ten and up with a single muggle-born. Potters, historically, have married half-bloods or muggle-born at least half the time, so they are not by any means 'pure-blooded'. The age of the family and that so many have still been magical is what keeps them in 'half-blood' status instead of being considered essentially muggle-born."

"Mudblood, you mean," Harry almost snarled, not missing the slightest of pauses she had made before the last hyphenated word.

"No, I don't," Daphne countered, "I considered using that word, yes, but it's not the one that fits best. As I said, I'm not a bigot, Potter, believe it or not. I don't think less of your bookworm friend, or you, for your blood. It's pointless- anyone with a brain could see the two of you could wipe out half of the school or more, including the seventh-years, in a one-on-one fight- probably without much of a break between, either. She's too smart, and not weak, and you're not an idiot, and really good at Defense. We remember the Tri-Wizard, you know."

"Anyway," she said, "we're getting off-topic again. Blood purity is what I think is correct. Purity is simply this: magical parents have better odds of having magical children, period. I don't, personally, care if my spouse is a half-blood, pure-blood, or muggle-born. I would prefer not to marry a muggle, and that's it, because I want magical children. Is that so wrong?"

Again, Harry forced himself to actually think about what the witch was saying. Eventually, he sighed, "No, I don't think it's 'so wrong'. I still don't agree with a few of your underlying ideas, but given the information you presented, I can see how you'd think the way you do."

"Good," Daphne nodded, then stood back up and started pacing again, this time much slower and less frenetically than she had before, "Good. I'm glad I at least got you to agree to think about it, anyway. So, here's... here's what I'm actually asking. I'm sorry if it's too much, I won't ask again if it is, but..."

"Just spit it out," Harry suggested, "Besides, it's almost time for Herbology."

"R- Right. Sorry, it's not as easy as just saying it. Alright... here goes."

"I would like you, Potter, to provide for me- within our seventh year, if possible- one child, which may or may not be influenced to become a male heir via potions, and possibly another no more than two years after the birth of the first, up to and including a third child, should one not be- viable.

"F- Furthermore," she took a deep breathe and paused mid-stride momentarily, "I would request that you give up any legal claim of parentage to the children, allowing me to raise them as Greengrasses with my family name, with the stipulation that you would act as a father to them in all important respects, wherever you reside."

He stood silently leaning against the same desk for several minutes.

In fact, the next one to speak in the otherwise quiet classroom was Daphne, "Um... what do you want out of the deal?"

"What I want?" Harry asked, shocked. "I... that's... I hadn't considered it."

"Well, I wouldn't feel right about it if you got nothing, Potter," Daphne grumbled, "So think of something. I'd like to get to class, too."

"What is a fair trade for three children?"

"I'm not asking you to give your kids up, Potter- just do so legally, for my family. Remember, I asked- I want- you to help raise them as your own. Hell, if nothing else, take me as a Concubine if you want to marry Granger or something. I'm sure you could convince her."

Of that, Harry was far less sure, but... the idea did have some appeal.

After all...

"Um... I don't know anything about it," Harry eventually said, sounding unsure and nervous even to himself, "but I'd prefer, um, the sound of the Concubine thing. Then, at least, I'd have a reason to- to be around."

Daphne watched him for several seconds, then asked, "And you'd have no problem with me spending most of my nights with- my lover?"

"No," Harry said at once.

"And you wouldn't ask or pressure either of us to- to join you? You'd let me do it on my terms, and not ask her at all?"

"Yes."

"Good. It's agreed, then. You get a pure-blood concubine, I get children to carry on the family name... and, it seems, neither of us outright hate each other."

Harry grinned, "And the sex isn't too bad either, right?"

Daphne huffed as she turned to the door, "Don't get a big head, Potter. I'm sure you're just 'average'. You just caught me on a particularly good day for it."

She was out the door long before his laughter faded.

If she only knew!

Then her head poked back in, "Oh, and my lover? She's in a similar situation. Just so you know. No betrothal, but her parents want two heirs. You might be the one she picks, I don't know."

As tantalizing as the thought of shagging Daphne Greengrass again was, just imagining having children at his age- and two years older was not that long, Harry felt- left him walking from Classroom Ten in a daze, and not a sexually satisfied one.

In fact, Harry remained 'unsatisfied', despite his efforts, until after dinner, when he skived off playing chess with Ron or doing homework with Hermione, claiming that he wanted to get an early start on the Astronomy practical as soon as it got dark, but while it was still at least a little warm.

Ron gave Harry a knowing wink, before turning his attention to Dean and Seamus, instead.

Hermione, instead, gave Harry a glare. "I know what you're really doing, Harry, so don't pretend I'm an idiot, please. You're going to meet up with your... friend."

Harry, despite his best efforts, pinked. "Er... no, I... well... I am going to meet up with her, yeah, I s'pose," his voice dropped to a low whisper, "but I don't think she can stay long. She's... been busy. Working on our Umbridge problem, apparently."

Hermione blinked. "Umbridge? That's- I hope she doesn't get in trouble. Or get you in trouble. Still, that would at least explain a little of why she's been acting so oddly the last week, wouldn't it? Alright, then... but be careful. I'll see you in an hour or so."

Harry nodded, gathered his things once more- he did, after all, need to attend the second half of the Astronomy class after the tryst (or whatever) Lilith said she had arranged on the Tower.

When he got there, Harry was unsurprised to see several enterprising older students already there, mostly sixth and seventh years, along with the occasional fifth year. Yet, for all the students snogging, petting, or in one seventh-year couple's case, all-but shagging, there were no others apparently waiting for someone.

Not wanting to be stared at for being alone, or accused of voyeurism, Harry slipped back down the staircase to the bottom of the attic-style stairs and threw his Invisibility Cloak over his shoulders, then climbed back up. With a quick Silencio cast on his own shoe before stepping out, Harry slipped out into the open air and shut the trapdoor again as quietly and quickly as possible.

Shooting another quick look around, Harry was glad to see that no one seemed to have noticed his presence, or the door opening and closing twice without anyone entering. If they had, maybe they had assumed whoever had come in the first time had left the second.

If he was lucky.

Instead, he watched, half-bored and half-aroused, as several people he didn't know, and a few he did, got closer than was even vaguely allowed by school rules- especially after Ministerial Decree Number... what was it, again? The one forbidding opposite-gender students from holding hands or other 'fraternizing'?

"Alright Master," Lilith's voice in his ear, her actual voice, made him jump.

He was suddenly very glad for the cloak and sound-muffling spell when he yelped, too.

"They're coming up. I need you to stay quiet for now, just let things happen, okay? This is part of my plan. If you want to enjoy yourself while watching, go ahead, but I want you to keep your eyes open and watch. Don't interfere."

Harry swallowed. This was sounding like... something he didn't want to partake in, the way Lilith was talking.

Then the trapdoor was thrown open before him, and the head of Draco Malfoy came into view, quickly followed by the rest of him, and no fewer than seven other members of the Hogwarts High Inquisitor's Inquisitorial Squad.

"This is what you had in mind?" Harry whispered.

"Yep," came Lilith's quick reply as her arms snaked around his waist to pull him slightly against her chest with her hands splayed across his pectoral muscles, thin though they were. "Let it play out- don't get caught. I'll distract them if you are, but stay out of their way and they shouldn't see you."

"Alright," Harry murmured, "but watching Draco and his goons go at it isn't what I had in mind for the evening."

"Nor I, Master," Lilith giggled.

She said nothing more as the remainder of the gathered Squad took up positions around each couple, then drew wands.

Harry was about to move to protect the relatively innocent students when Draco's voice shook most of them out of their distracted reverie.

"Listen up, you lot! By order of High Inquisitor Umbridge," he drawled, voice grating on Harry's nerves more than usual with the false authority the snooty teenager had adopted, "the Astronomy Tower is henceforth barred from student use without faculty members or the Inquisitorial Squad present. And we aren't staying around, so you lot need to clear off."

"Says who?" a particularly burly Hufflepuff seventh-year growled from behind what Harry thought was a sixth-year Ravenclaw who had been sitting on his lap, "You and what army?"

"Not an army," Draco sneered, gesturing at his friends, "but you should remember who you are dealing with. Not only have each and every one of you violated that rule by not jumping right up, you're also witnessed by eight other people violating Educational Decree Thirty-Two. You know, the one that says you can't hold hands, or more? I'd say you all are doing far more than that, wouldn't you?"

A moment later, there was a mad scramble as nearly every student rushed to resume a state of full uniform dress and slip past the gathered Inquisitorial Squad, each of whom shot the various other students a rather condescending sneer on their way by.

Only one student, that same Hufflepuff, took a little longer. When all the rest had gone, he stopped, standing tall and vaguely threatening without being overtly so in front of the almost as tall, still pimply blonde. "Think you're a big man, eh, Malfoy?" the Hufflepuff scoffed, "You and your little friends? Well, I can tell you now, Umbridge won't be here much longer, and then you'll get yours."

"Not from you," Draco sneered right back, "Because you just threatened an Inquisitorial Squad member. That's fraternizing, breaking uniform code, being out-of-bounds, and threats... you may as well pack up your things now. You'll be leaving in the morning."

The Hufflepuff gave a confident snort as he shouldered his way between Goyle and Malfoy.

If you had asked Harry, though, he would have said that despite his bravado, the older student had been shaken by the last exchange.

Taking N.E.W.T.s was not impossible after Hogwarts... it was just prohibitively expensive.

"Wait," Lilith whispered a moment before Harry started to move himself, then he felt her hands leave the soft embrace she'd held him in, and heard the quiet rustling vibration of her hummingbird-like wings as she lifted off.

Just a few seconds later, while the Squad were still congratulating each other with several jeers at the other student's expense, Harry caught a whiff of an aroma that reminded him of lilacs briefly.

Slender arms slipped around him a few seconds later, and Harry watched, transfixed, as the Slytherin students shared several pointed looks even as their conversation quieted.

Harry was starting to get nervous, wondering what was going on, when Draco looked toward Pansy Parkinson. "Well, it does seem like a shame to waste this perfectly good Tower... should we meet up here, after the class is over?"

She smiled, then nodded.

A few minutes later, they were gone.

"There, Master," Lilith said in her normal voice after the door had shut, "some information for you... and some possible allies. Of course, now I can explain more of the plan. My plan, anyway."

"Yeah," Harry frowned, more from feeling the cool spring night air after Lilith's departure from her hold on him than anything else, "I mean, I get they're blackmailing people, or at least being bullies, but that's hardly anything new."

"No, that isn't," Lilith grinned, "but after the class, tonight? That's when the real fun begins. I'm going to... well, use more than the tiny dose of Fog they got this time, just to plant the idea in their heads. And then we'll see who blackmails whom."

"Ah," Harry smiled, "I see where you're going with this... do we have time for more?"

Lilith shrugged, blinked, then shrugged again. "That depends... do you think I can get you off in about three minutes? That's all the time we have until Professor Sinistra gets here."

Harry frowned. "You probably could..."

"Oh, I can," Lilith giggled, "But I won't. Have patience, Master. You should probably take off your cloak, though, since you're supposed to be studying."

He had just raised his telescope to the darkened night sky when the trapdoor opened yet again, and a surprised female voice called out, "Potter? Where's- that's odd. Usually I have to kick students off the Tower every evening class. Today, I just find you... and you're actually working."

Harry looked away from his telescope briefly to smile at the dark-skinned Professor, "Yeah, I got lucky. I overheard some students grumbling about the Inquisitorial Squad kicking them out, and just missed the Squad myself."

"Mm, perhaps that's a good thing," the serious witch said, reaching within her robes to pull out her own advanced, expanding telescope as well, "If rumors of the rift between you and Mr. Malfoy are to be believed."

"They are," Harry groused, "Unless there are new rumors we're bosom companions, or something."

Professor Sinistra laughed as she tapped the telescope with her wand, causing it to leap from her hands and expand several times in size before sprouting three legs and landing to dominate the center of the Tower as it often did during classes.

As she worked, Harry could not help but watch the handsome woman, nor his thoughts, on the opposite gender far more than he suspected any other boy his age's were. She is fairly handsome. Not someone I'd normally go for, but her figure...

Harry continued to surreptitiously watch the older woman as she set up her own telescope.

Before long, other students had begun to filter up, Professor Sinistra greeting each one in turn, until the entire class was assembled. Then, "Welcome once again, class, to the Astronomy Practical. As we discussed last week, at Professor Firenze's request, we will be focusing on the Jovian sub-system this week, so if you would turn your telescopes into the area I have turned mine, you should quickly find..."

Harry did not exactly tune out the class, for he had always somewhat enjoyed star-gazing. It was, if nothing else, a relaxing, peaceful way to spend an evening (if one were not in a class, anyway). True, it would, perhaps, not help him in the upcoming fight against Voldemort, but as they (mostly Hermione) said, knowledge was power.

Somehow.

But Harry focused as much as he could, and tried not to stare at the goose-bumped, pale legs of several of the girls in the class. Many of them had switched to the spring- and fall-length skirts (in other words, the shortest skirts the school dress code allowed) earlier in the week given the warming weather.

Now, he suspected they were regretting it.

He, though, was no stranger to chilly nights from his time in the cupboard under the stairs back in Little Whinging, and had always enjoyed cold more than heat anyway, so while he, too, was foregoing the vest that many of the male students wore under their robes (and, in fact, the robes themselves since Professor Sinistra was not exceptionally strict), and was clad only in his slacks and Cambridge, along with the ever-present Gryffindor tie.

That was how the class passed.

Then, as everyone else was leaving near eleven, Harry heard Lilith whisper once again in his ear, "They're already in a classroom below, waiting for you all to leave before they come up. Your friend, the smart one, suspects something, but Ronald is keeping her occupied. He's a decent wing-man, you know."

Harry grinned slightly, then glanced around the tower to make sure no one was watching him before he slipped the Invisibility Cloak over his shoulders.

If anyone noticed, no one said a word or so much as glanced in his direction as the mingled Gryffindor and Ravenclaw fifth-years went, often two-by-two, down the stairs and deeper into the castle.

Probably, he mused, they've seen me do it enough this year that it's no longer worth mentioning.

Just a few minutes later, Gregory Goyle's large, round head peeked out of the door in the stairwell, glanced about, then disappeared. A few seconds later, it was back, this time holding the door open for Vincent Crabbe, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy, Millicent Bulstrode, Cassius Warrington, Graham Montague, and a Sixth-year Slytherin girl Harry did not know by name, though he had seen her around the castle often enough to recognize her face easily.

Not that she's anything to recognize, Harry frowned slightly beneath his cloak, Bulstrode's almost prettier, and I'm still convinced she's got Troll ancestry. She's got a chest, I'll say that, but she's... large. Very. And that's not something I'm into, though I s'pose it's alright for some.

... At least Parkinson's alright, even if she is a complete cow.

His thoughts were interrupted by the quiet flutter of Lilith's wings as he felt her thin arms slip around his waist from behind, one hand going to his chest while the other immediately began fishing at his waistband for the button.

"I've already flown over them twice to dispense some Fog of Lust, once as they came up the stairs, and again just now. Two doses plus the light one earlier should be more than we need to get some good material," she whispered quietly in his ear, the feel of her hot, moist breath against the back of Harry's neck making him shiver even as her hand finally popped the button of his slacks and moved to the zipper.

"What's your plan?" he asked, just as quietly. Despite being under the cloak and knowing that Lilith was quite invisible- he couldn't see her either, at the moment- his eyes were still roving warily around the eight Slytherins, just in case they detected his presence.

For now, though, they were standing around in a loose circle at the center of the Astronomy Tower, bare of all but the sockets for Professor Sinistra's heavy telescopes, and the students and succubus themselves. Harry was almost amused at the level of nervous tension many of them were displaying, shooting odd glances at each other while they spoke in hushed tones about... something. Harry felt he should have heard what, but his attention was too focused on what Lilith's right hand was doing in his slacks, which she had not yet pulled down. Instead, she was gently massaging his member and scrotum while leaving it all quite cooped up.

Eventually, Crabbe asked a question of Malfoy, his voice much higher and softer than Harry had expected. It surprised Harry largely because he so rarely heard the overweight, thuggish young man speak.

"I don't know, Crabbe," Malfoy drawled, "Why don't you think about it really hard? What do students use the Astronomy Tower for?"

There was silence among the Slytherins for over a minute, while Warrington, Malfoy, Parkinson, and Bulstrode started to snicker at the expense of the two stupidest people Harry had ever met- and he grew up with Dudley and his gang- worked it out.

"We're, er," the taller, broader, and more muscular (if dumber of the two) Gregory Goyle answered, "Gonna be doin' astonimy?"

Pansy snickered.

Malfoy literally slapped his hand over his face with a groan, "No, you idiot. Students also come up here to enjoy themselves. So you lot have fun. Pansy... come over here, will you?"

With nary a blush, Pansy shot a confident, 'I win' sort of look at the other two girls, then took up Draco's hand and led him, instead, over to a section of the wall near Harry, where they immediately started kissing.

Harry watched, distracted, horrified, and amused, by the lack of skill Draco was demonstrating. He could hardly, Harry guessed, be considered an expert, but one shouldn't slobber that much, should they? As well, his hands were immediately awkwardly groping at Pansy's chest and thighs, while she was attempting to fend him off just long enough to sit down on the battlement wall.

Though, Harry was also amused to see, she wasn't trying very hard.

Their actions, though, seemed to have spurred the others on, because when Harry looked back in their direction, both Crabbe and Goyle were staring wide-eyed at Millicent, who shrugged, muttered, "May's well, I suppose... alright, you lugs," then started pulling up her shirt from out of the waistband of her long skirt.

Warrington and Montague shared a glance, then looked toward the older girl. She, though, frowned back in their direction. "No way. Maybe you, Warrington, but I'm not stooping to lay with Montague."

A moment later, Lilith's hands whipped from Harry's pants and from beneath his shirt and she flitted past him, still invisible.

There was another waft, this time of... cinnamon?

A moment later, the girl's eyes fogged over, and she shrugged, suddenly pink in the face. "Well... whatever. This one time, I guess," then started removing her own uniform.

"And that's not rape how?" Harry asked quietly as soon as the succubus started fondling him again.

"Well, for one," Lilith whispered, pausing to lick the shell of his right ear as she spoke, "She's already been with both of them before, but is currently dating the more handsome one, so she doesn't want to seem like she's cheating. But the ugly one is better endowed, so she's basically just faking it to have him again. Besides- she, like you, has always wanted a threesome. It's not uncommon, you know."

"O- Oh," Harry said, then turned his attention back to Pansy and Draco.

She was looking, judging by her expression, increasingly frustrated while the blonde boy was growing angry.

Just as he was about to turn his attention to what Lilith was doing to him, though, Harry's mind caught one phrase that made his entire day.

"Can't even get up? What's wrong with you?"

Pansy had hissed it quietly, but forcefully.

Draco, though, still glanced back hurriedly at the others, probably to see if anyone had overheard. "N- Nothing," he murmured, red-faced, then turned back to the girl he was still groping awkwardly at, "it's just... Let me change positions. Trade me."

Grumbling, Pansy complied, the two moving around each other awkwardly so that she ended up standing between his legs, this time.

Only, as they resumed kissing and the olive-complexioned girl started reaching for Malfoy's trousers, Harry noticed that Draco was not focused on her.

Instead, he was watching the beginnings of...

Holy shit. They really did get a good dose.

Bulstrode, to Harry's amusement, had apparently pushed Goyle onto the ground and sat, skirt still on but riding high, on his member, for she was rising and falling on his lap rhythmically, while her hands fumbled beneath a roll of flesh for Crabbe's own penis which, to Harry's growing horror, she leaned forward and took into her mouth.

"How is that supposed to be arousing?" Harry whispered to his companion, who had slipped beneath his cloak once again to resume her ministrations, though she, to his frustration, still had not freed him.

"It isn't, for you," Lilith murmured, slipping around him to the front and standing on her toes to press a soft, sweet-smelling kiss against his lips as she did, "But you have different standards. The tart on the left is for you if you want her, or you can have me. I can't stay for both, though, because I have to tend to your Umbridge problem. This is phase two, right here, by the way. Phase three is probably going to happen tomorrow night, which I have to get to preparations for. Phase four should be the final one, in a couple days."

"Mm," Harry murmured, "Does that mean I can have you now, and Pansy later, then?"

His arms slipped around the small form to grab at her ass, pulling the Succubus against him, making her squeak softly as he ground his now very hard length against her chest.

"It could," Lilith murmured, her sky-blue eyes glinting in the starlight half-hidden and hazy through the Cloak, "if I wanted you to have that much fun. I do need to get going, though. I'll make one more pass for them to really get into it... and I'll leave it to you to claim the tart. If you wait and watch, you should know how soon enough."

Then she was gone, leaving Harry cold and alone, erection still straining in his trousers.

Again, cinnamon filtered through the air.

A moment later, Harry finally noticed- Warrington and Montague were at either end of the now-nude sixth-year, one hammering into her mouth and the other a dripping cunt, while Crabbe and Goyle were now sandwiching Millicent between them, one apparently shagging her pussy while the other took her arse.

All six teenagers were moaning or grunting in abandon, eyes glazed with lust and movements jerky.

To his left, though, Pansy was now also lust-crazed, while Draco Malfoy...

"You still aren't hard?" Pansy growled, voice low and threatening.

"I-" was all Draco got out before inspiration struck Harry.

With a whispered word, both fell to the ground, Stunned.

He was, admittedly, curious why Malfoy hadn't been affected by Lilith's Fog of Lust. Was he truly incapable? The others seemed to have been driven half-mad by the three doses.

Still... "Incarcerous," he murmured, pointing his wand at Pansy while imagining a certain formation of ropes appearing from his wand.

Next, Harry turned his attention to Draco Malfoy, who, for the first time in Harry's school career, was utterly at his mercy. Yet, all Harry felt for the boy who had once- even this year- antagonized him so thoroughly, was pity. Still... "Maybe a lesson will do you some good," he murmured, then cast a Disillusionment Charm on Draco, followed by a more standard Incarcerous, a Silencing Charm, and then, "Enervate. Now, Draco, before you get all hot and bothered- you are bound, silenced, and all-but invisible. I'm also going to be putting a Sticking Charm under you to keep you here. Do you understand? Nod if you do."

Draco Malfoy cast his green eyes about, scowling when he saw his girlfriend bound, hands behind her and ankles together but still mostly clothed, on the castle stones beside him, then looked-wide-eyed at his friends in the Inquisitorial Squad and what they were doing just ten feet or so away.

Slowly, he nodded once, fear creeping into his face for the first time all year.

Harry grinned triumphantly. "Now, you have a choice. I'm going to show Pansy what a man can do. You can watch and take a lesson, or you can imagine it's you between Crabbe and Goyle. Your choice." As Harry rose from his crouch in front of Draco, who he had left slumped against the wall so he could see the whole Tower's top, he cast the promised sticking charm.

It would hold long enough for his needs, anyway.

Moving to Pansy, he hauled her up by the waist and positioned the girl so she was leaning, bent over the battlement. Convenient height, he thought with a grin, then put Draco and the others largely from his mind.

They would be too distracted, anyway, even if they did notice him under the Disillusionment he was about to put on.

As the wet egg feeling passed to Harry's legs, he slipped the cloak off and stuffed it into his pants pocket, then finally freed his member, which jumped out in the still night air, broken only by the grunts and moans from behind him.

Then Harry stepped up behind Pansy and, with his left hand over her bound wrists at the small of her back, pointed and said, "Enervate."

For a moment, she was still, then started squirming. A second later, she stopped under the probably painful pressure Harry was applying to her hands.

Masking his own voice as much as he could, Harry growled, "You feel that thing on your arse, Parkinson?"

She whimpered, but made no other noise.

"It's kind of sad, you know. A pretty enough girl like you, mad for a boy... only he can't satisfy you. You want to be satisfied, right? You wish he could do it?"

Slowly, Harry watched as Pansy moved her head back and forth, casting about for any sign of Draco, or perhaps to see who he was. All she saw, with the Disillusionment spells active, was some of her friends shagging like they hadn't a care in the world, right behind her.

She whimpered.

Harry, invisible, smiled. This feeling of power, of control... it was fun!

"Now, here's what I propose," he said, voice still carefully controlled to sound older (he hoped), and significantly different from his normal tones. "I know you're really randy right now. You are, aren't you? You can admit it."

Again, Pansy whimpered. This time, though, she nodded afterward, just once, a quick, jerking movement before she put her chin on the stone and resolutely looked out over the dark grounds and forest beyond.

"I'm going to help you with that," he murmured, softer, and using his now-free right hand, slid the palm up the back of her right thigh to rest on what he found was a surprisingly well-shaped, firm arse.

Pansy whimpered, softer this time, and became very still, almost like a mouse who is afraid a cat has spotted it.

Harry grinned, then gave her rump a little, soft slap.

She jumped nearly a half-inch up, then immediately went limp again. Harry lifted his hand, still grinning madly. How had he never noticed how much fun being in charge was? He glanced over his shoulder to where he knew Draco was sitting, he alone able to see the boy through his own Charm.

The blonde was, as Harry had hoped, looking back and forth between Pansy (for he could not see Harry), and the small orgy on his left.

"Now," Harry continued as he turned back to lean low over Pansy, so that he was whispering in her ear just close enough that she could feel his mass and weight over her, "here's my price for helping you with your problem. You agree, and I give you an experience you've never had before. You say no, and I leave you to your impotent boyfriend. So...

"Rule one, you do not look at me unless I tell you to. Keep your eyes forward or down, no matter what."

Pansy whimpered, then nodded again, just like before. Was she really this submissive, or was she too terrified of the 'unknown assailant' to fight back?

"Two, you let yourself enjoy it. Don't hold back on my account- have as many orgasms as you want. Keep score, if you want, so you can taunt little Draco with it, later. In fact, do that, won't you?"

Again, she nodded, though this time the girl before him didn't whimper. Instead, Harry felt her arse push back slightly against him, grinding one cheek against his dick through her skirt and, probably, knickers.

He only pulled away slightly. "Three, you do exactly as I say until I've had my fun... no arguments, no hesitation."

This time, Pansy said nothing, made no motion or movement or noise whatsoever.

"Finally," Harry grinned once again at this idea he'd just had, "you never get to tell anyone about this if you do find out who I am. Not even dearest Draco. You swear an Oath to that effect. Can you do those things for me, Pansy? Can you do what I told you to do for a night of ecstasy?"

He waited, for more than a minute while the brunette still lay, chest panting and heaving on the stone wall before him. Then, her voice barely audible beneath the grunts from behind the pair of them, she said, "I'm not on the potion."

Harry only grinned, "I wasn't planning on you needing it. Any other objections?"

"N- No... Morgana, just- just fill me up!"

"No," Harry smirked to himself, then as she stiffened in growing annoyance, he pushed once more with the hand on her arms before letting go, "Stay there. Remember- no looking. No moving unless I move you."

Pansy gave another whimper, but didn't try to move again, so Harry stepped back once and moved both hands to her thighs, where the right had been previously, before he began sliding them up. This time, though, he used only the lightest grazes of his fingertips, pausing occasionally, and on two instances suddenly grabbing, squeezing into the soft, light-brown flesh before moving abruptly on.

Pansy's legs were already shaking with anticipation when he reached the hem of the skirt, which might have been regulation-length, though Harry doubted it. There, he teased the girl further by running the same fingertips under its length but not lifting for several seconds, before suddenly flipping it up and over her back, revealing no knickers at all- just an expanse of paler, but still somewhat browned flesh, and a thatch of thick, dark, but unusually (to Harrys' experience, anyway) straight pubic hair, which was already dripping with the liquid flowing from the line of pink at the center.

"Merlin, you are randy," Harry murmured, then with a quiet sound, he slapped both cheeks, one after the other.

Pansy yelped, but did not object. Harry glanced to Draco's location, found him still shimmering as if invisible, though he stared now at Pansy's bare arse and twat, then coincidentally followed his gaze to the other Slytherins.

Harry smiled- they had moved again. Now, Crabbe and Montague were enjoying the older girl, this time with Montague at her face, and she was on her back moaning and writhing, while Millicent struggled to take both Goyle's impressive package- Harry would guess him at nearly two inches thick and maybe eight long- and Warrington's rather standard one into her mouth at the same time, her eyes almost rolled back in her head with lust.

Harry delivered another pair of slaps, this time to the left cheek and directly onto Pansy's crotch. She actually screamed, this time, but again, no one else looked in their direction. True to her word, though, Harry did not see the girl look back to see who had abused her.

Instead, she quietly whimpered, then jerked in anticipation of pain when his hand touched her again. This time, though, he was soft, gentle, and cupped her mound with his hand before circling it all slowly once, twice, five times.

By the time he finished the slow circles and withdrew his hand, Pansy's groin followed it almost instinctively before he pushed her back against the battlement. "Ah, ah. You stay there. Wait, no... Stand up, but stay there."

She struggled to do so while bound and desperate, he guessed, for relief, but Pansy complied without a word.

Once she was upright, Harry reached around her and grabbed at the front of her shirt, ripping it wide open in one strong motion.

She cried out again, this time, as the night air hit her tender flesh. Over the girl's shoulder, Harry could make out a black, lacy bra and rather full, if not large, breasts. He then moved his shoulders up to hers and pulled the robes and ruins of the girl's shirt down to her waist, where they caught on her bound hands. "Perfect," he muttered, then reached around again, sliding the tips of his fingers once more down her arms from the shoulder, then forward to her waist, then up and in until they hit the bottom edges of the girl's well-shaped chest.

"You've got nice baps, Pansy," Harry growled, remembering this time to change his voice, then grabbed both into his hands and gave a firm squeeze. They were just small enough to fit into his hands with a little left over on his fingertips, with a little bit of sag. Harry could feel her nipples digging into his palms as he began to knead, more forcefully than he had with anyone so far.

But if Pansy was in pain, she didn't show it. Instead, she fell back against him with a moan, carefully keeping her eyes down on his invisible hands as he molested her, though her bound hands also started seeking out more of Harry.

After a few seconds, she found it, and he, too, groaned as long, thin fingers settled around his dick and started pumping. "Merlin, you're hard," she whispered, "If Draco ever got like this in his life, I'd marry Weasley."

"Maybe I am Weasley," Harry growled in her ear, "with a voice-changing charm. Think of that?"

She shuddered, but said nothing. Nor, Harry was quite amused to note, did her fingers stop. In fact, her grip tightened slightly.

So Pansy thinks Ron's cute... I could use that later.

"But I'm not," Harry said after a second, his right hand now slipping down to pull up the front end of her skirt, then changed his mind and just went under the top to grab at her dripping genitals again.

She groaned lightly as soon as his hand touched her again. This continued, his left hand working her chest while his right circled her whole cunt or slid a fingertip up and down the girl's slit, for several minutes while the grunting behind Harry grew progressively louder and more rapid.

Somehow, he doubted that any of them, as Fogged as they had been, had lasted more than a few minutes, which meant this was probably round... four or so for most of them.

But he was certain Pansy had not yet had an orgasm. "Let it go," he murmured, taking a lesson from Lilith and licking the girl's ear lightly as his hands continued to work, "That's it... enjoy it. Feel me, enjoy the pleasure... that's it..."

A moment later, Pansy shuddered, then went limp in his arms.

Harry, had he not already had one hand around her and one in her groin, would probably have dropped the girl. But his hold was good, so he was able to set her face-down on the battlement once again. He gave her a thirty second count to cool off, then asked, "Has Draco ever done anything for you? Are you a virgin?"

The girl hesitated, then shook her head. "He never has... but I'm not. I can't get him hard."

"I think it's because he likes extra... meat," Lilith whispered in Harry's ear, her hand snaking around his neck. "I came to check on you. Good progress, Master. I'll be in your bed late tonight. Sorry... duty calls!"

As soon as Harry knew the Succubus was gone again (how had he not noticed her presence, then, if he could feel her leaving, he wondered idly), he repeated her first statement, then followed it with, "Haven't you noticed? I'm pretty sure he's not eyeing the blokes, he's looking at Millicent."

There was a quiet gasp from Harry's right, where Draco still lay.

Pansy could not have heard, for she, too, gave a shock. "Well- well if that's true," she hissed, "we're through, because I'm not getting fat for him!"

Harry grinned. Maybe Ron had a chance, then. "I'd never ask that," Harry said softly, voice still far too low for his normal one, "I mean, I can't say I like you, but you shouldn't change for anyone."

"You still... made me cum," Pansy groaned, her body shuddering again in the afterglow despite her distraction and pronouncement.

"I did," Harry agreed, hand now sliding up the inside of her thigh, "So he's never gone down on you, or anything?"

This time, Pansy didn't hesitate. "Never... said it was disgusting, that people peed from there. Idiot."

Knowing, as she apparently did not, that Draco had heard every word, Harry smiled widely. "That's alright... you'll know what it's like in a moment. Just stay there- again, don't move."

Harry didn't have the heart to tell the desperate girl that he simply didn't want to be anywhere Draco had been. He didn't even particularly care that the girl wasn't a virgin, so someone might have had her this way, but at least it wasn't Draco.

Still, she was lust-addled enough that Harry felt he could trust her, so he, still hanging free (or standing proudly) between the legs, knelt behind the girl and leaned in, using his hands on her arse and thumbs to pull apart the folds giving off the powerful musk.

He leaned forward, inhaling... It smells like wet dog, sort of, but not as bad. Huh.

But he didn't dive in. Instead, his head moved a little lower to lick at the inside of her left thigh, where most of the girl's juices still glistened.

She jumped and squirmed, but did not resist.

He continued to lap slowly upward, contemplating the taste, until he reached the girl's furry snatch, then switched legs to move faster up the dryer side. Daphne, if I had to give her a flavor, would have been... cherry cordial, maybe. Pansy tastes more like cream cheese. Is that normal?

A moan and corresponding shiver from the delectable flesh (no matter Pansy's other attributes, Harry had to consider the engorged, dusky mons and labia with the thin strip of oozing, vibrant pink between them, all mostly hidden by her thick, dark thatch, quite appealing) pulled Harry's attention back to the task at hand: her pleasure, then his (or, probably, both).

Both hands still kneading at Pansy's bare rump, the thumbs of each pulling at the outer folds of her mons just slightly, Harry leaned in, feathering the tip of his tongue in little back-and-forth motions, alternating vertical and horizontal, up the left side of her thick, swollen lips, then down the right.

"Shit," he heard Pansy gasp as he finished the first lap, her knees already shaking at about the height of Harry's elbows. Her arms slid further from where they had been resting since he had released them to grip the outside edge of the parapet wall.

Harry smiled, then repeated the motion in reverse, before sucking the lips, as much as he could get, into his mouth and laving them both.

"Shit," Pansy repeated, almost gasping. Harry was quite happy to realize her knees had collapsed forward into the wall as he had done so, leaving her resting on her chest and stomach alone, her school-uniform mary janes limp on the flagstones.

"Was that another one?" he asked quietly.

"Yrs," he thought he heard through her suddenly gasping breaths.

"You must really be wanting for attention, then, if you come that fast," Harry said with a snort, then immediately buried his face into the warm, dripping snatch. His nose dug into her folds while his tongue immediately sought out her clit for the first time and started lashing it, as rapidly as he could, across the sensitive bud.

Pansy literally screamed, her body suddenly convulsing against the stones.

A distantly-registered shout of, "Get 'er, Draco!" distracted Harry for a brief moment, before he latched on once again with even greater fervor, now focusing more on lapping up the delicious flavor of the orgasmic juices that flowed out the teenage girl.

Harry continued through no fewer than three screaming, shaking orgasms, until Pansy said, "P- Please! S- Stop! I need- I need a break! Please!"

He backed off quickly, though he did not stop. Instead, his hands, which had fallen still due to his oral focus, started kneading at Pansy's arse while his head pulled back enough to ask, "Really? You don't want another mind-shattering orgasm?"

"Not- not right at the moment," Pansy gasped, and even distracted by the torrent of fluids running down her legs, Harry could see her chest heaving beyond the olive, though pale, flesh before him.

"Alright," he shrugged, then released her to push himself to his feet. After he had done so, he ordered, "Stay there, don't move. Just making sure the others will leave us alone for a bit longer."

"L- longer?" he dimly heard the girl say, but his attention was already on the small orgy and Draco, who had somehow shimmied himself out of the sitting position Harry had left him in, but was still bound and gagged, and disillusioned, against the wall three meters or so away. He sauntered casually over, seeing that the rest of the Inquisitorial Squad was quite involved yet (even if they did show signs of slowing), Millicent and the Sixth-year girl now kissing passionately with the sixth year on top, Crabbe beneath her plowing away at the older girl's arse, while Goyle did Millicent's, and both girls either groped at the other's chests or jerked off Montague and Warrington.

Harry quietly cast another Sticking charm- two, actually- on Draco to hold him in place, amused that his position now left his own body blocking any view of what Harry was about to do to Pansy, then thought better of it, and just Stunned him. A moment later, six more Stunners flew out, then a seventh- somehow, Goyle's weight had knocked his final shot, against Cassius Warrington, awry.

Hopefully, in their addled state, none of them would remember that each had lost consciousness at the same time. Or, at least, within a few seconds of each other.

"Colloportus," he whispered one more time, this spell aimed at the Astronomy Tower's door, before turning back to Pansy. "Now, Parkinson... I'm going to give you a choice in a moment. Tell me, how many orgasms have you had tonight?"

She hesitated a moment, then quietly, still not looking in his direction, whispered, "Seven."

"Oh?"

She nodded against the stone, flushing even more than her panting body should have been in the cold night air, "I- I d- I did it myself, earlier. I figured Draco wouldn't..."

"Ah. Well...I don't blame you. Still, seven good orgasms."

"S- Six. The first wasn't... erm..." she confessed, the blush deepening further.

"Ah," Harry repeated, stepping forward and, using his left hand, pushed his throbbing, aching member between the folds of the girl's arse to lay along it. She shuddered beneath him even while his right hand gently landed on the small of her back and slid it up, over the ruins of her vest and shirt, then onto the side of her bare right breast. "Tell me, Parkinson... what's six good orgasms worth, then?"

She was silent for a moment, her breathing calming slightly, then she replied, "I'll- I'll let you do it inside. One time."

"No," Harry grinned slightly, now sliding his member up and down her crack at a leisurely pace, just enough, he hoped, to keep them both excited, "I'm not interested in becoming a father just yet, least of all with you."

"Please," she whimpered, "I want it inside, at least once. He- the one before- never did it inside."

"No," he repeated, firmer this time, "I'm starting to wonder if you're just a slag. I mean, you've been with someone else, want Draco- for whatever stupid reason- and want me, too? How many have you been with, Parkinson?"

"I swear," she whispered, urgently, "It's just you and one other. I can't- I can't say who. I took an oath, just like for you."

"But you haven't taken any oath yet, Parkinson," Harry reminded her. "And if you want this cock," he slapped her left cheek with it once, then put it back, this time deliberately not stroking, "You'll take that oath now. Never, ever to reveal who I am."

"I swear on my life," she said desperately, voice needy and so quick she almost stuttered, "that I'll never tell any living soul who gave me the best orgasms of my life on this very night, and who I let fuck me after. Just please, do it soon!"

Harry nodded. He was hardly an expert on magical oaths, but knew them to be as binding as could be. If she said, if she revealed that he'd had her, she would, indeed, die.

At least, that was the theory.

He leaned forward so he was over her, now bending over the parapet himself, to whisper in her ear while his left hand, still around his base, guided himself to just the right angle.

Thankful for the Muffliato he'd remembered to put up earlier, Harry whispered, "Scream all you want," then pushed in.

Merlin, it was brilliant.

As lubricated as the girl had been, Harry was certain that she wouldn't provide any significant pleasure at all (not that he wasn't randy enough to get off easily himself, if he wanted). As it was, he slid in quickly and easily, all the way to the base, making both of them release loud moans. "Fuck," he grunted after bottoming out, then immediately started pulling out achingly slowly.

Dully, despite the razor focus of his mind on the spots where their bodies connected, Harry noted that she was far smoother inside than Daphne, Marietta, Cho, or Lilith had been, but her channel was short and tight, and utterly drenched.

"All- all the way," Pansy gasped, "So far in... You're huge. Who are you?"

"You'll find out," he murmured, then started sawing in and out, leisurely at first, but with growing speed. In and out, until he was hammering Pansy back into the parapet with every thrust,

Just one minute in, she screamed again.

Then almost immediately after, without slowing, Harry grabbed at her elbows and, worried she would chafe enough to bleed, used them to pull her breasts (and the rest of her body) off the stone, lifting her into the air.

He idly wondered, while continuing to pound into her relentlessly, what her tits looked like, swinging in the night air like they undoubtedly were.

She came again, and this time, Harry was just able to notice her vaginal walls fluttering about him in his own growing sensitivity.

He was close.

He wanted to do it inside, he'd had permission...

But no.

Not this time.

Instead, with just a few seconds left until he would explode, Harry forced himself out completely and, using the hold he still had on the half-upright girl, flipped her around to face him and forced her to her knees.

"Open your mouth," he growled, voice low and deep, commanding.

With glazed over, blissed-out eyes, Pansy Parkinson obeyed at once, without hesitation.

He slammed inside, only just able to keep from forcing his whole length into her mouth and throat- which would probably make her vomit and thus ruin his mood- and cancelled his disillusionment charm.

He continued to thrust half-way in even as his orgasm arrived, his seed, thick and hot, spurting forth into Pansy's mouth in a rush.

She swallowed reflexively on the first gush, tried to hold back on the second and third, her eyes wide and focused on the half of Harry's dick she could see, then gave up as it started to leak out around her lips and started swallowing again.

Harry roared in ecstasy the whole while, though his eyes remained locked on the girl's face.

As she continued swallowing, eventually, her dark eyes moved up to his face as the flood slowed.

He grinned as who, exactly, he was started to register.

The grin turned into a full-on smile as the acknowledgement turned to shame and horror.

"Ah, ah," he said even as she withdrew her mouth from his dick in disgust, "remember, you can't tell anyone."

Pansy, though, didn't attempt to do so. Instead, she scrambled further away, covering only part of her tits and groin with her hands, and started to wretch, likely to force herself to vomit.

"Incarcerous," he murmured lazily, hand on his wand once again, "Now, Pansy, calm down. You won't die. Also, think about this- think about how you felt just a few seconds ago. A few minutes ago. Yes, that was all me. I'll let you go, and you can throw up if you want, in a minute. But for now, I need you to listen. Can you do that? I figure you still owe me, since I'm still six orgasms up."

Her horrified expression paled almost chalk-white at once, and she grew very, very still.

"Good," he smiled, crouching down and resting his elbows on his knees, still half-naked and semi-erect, glistening dick hanging free while he idly twirled his wand in his right hand, his eyes still locked on hers. "Now... you swore an oath. If it's that bad, tell someone, and die. Simple solution. But I have a different point of view, and maybe a suggestion. Forget about it. Or, no, don't forget about it- that'd be cruel- but forget this animosity you seem to have toward me and mine. I never did anything to you, and anything I supposedly did to your precious 'Dark Lord' I did before I could talk. So you tell me if it was really my fault. No, what I instead want you to do is remember how good you felt just a bit ago. That's what a 'real man' can do. Leave Draco, if he can't do the job. Find someone else. Think about what you want and need out of life, instead of what other people say you should want or need. That's all, suggestion over."

Harry stood, then, and casually turned to get dressed, closing his trousers carefully over his still half-engorged member. As he threw the invisibility cloak over himself once again, he turned a final time to Pansy. "Oh, yeah, another thing- Draco was watching, for most of it. He still never did get hard, even watching Millicent. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he's just totally unable. Still, I suppose if he's who you really want... Finite. Finite. Finite."

Harry continued cancelling his spells, one after the other, leaving only the various Stunners in effect along with the Silencing Charm, until even the door was unlocked. "One last thing," he said through the gauzy cloth to the silent girl, who had only just reached out a tentative hand to her own clothing, "I have great blackmail on all of you. Seriously, back off me and my friends, or you'll regret it. I'm sure your precious 'Dark Lord' will be very happy to hear- especially from me- what we just did, and how you're all very busy creating the next generation of Pure-bloods... instead of being useful."

He gave a little chuckle as the door closed, then headed as quickly as he could while still remaining quiet, down the stairs.

He had an appointment with a bed, and eventually, a Succubus still that evening.

Harry half-expected a scolding from Hermione when he reached the Gryffindor Common Room.

What he found, however, was something far different.

Scattered here and there around the room were thirty-six students, ranging from fourth up through seventh years, in eighteen pairs, occupying the couches, the larger, soft armchairs, and in three couples, two of the thicker rugs close to the still-roaring fireplace, and two on a table. Or, more accurately, with the boy sitting on the edge and the girl standing between his knees.

Harry blinked, then shook his head. No one was actually naked, no one was actively shagging, but there were a lot of hands in what McGonagall would, no doubt, call shameful places, and which their new 'Headmistress' would probably expel people for.

Then he shook his head, too spent- for the moment- to concern himself with those involved, aside from noting several people. Parvati Patil snogging Dean Thomas, for one. Fay Dunbar with Seamus Finnegan. And Neville with... Alicia Spinnet.

Huh, Harry thought, I didn't think he'd ever go for her. Then again, I do know Alicia isn't that picky about the age of people she's with... see Ron, last week.

Then he continued across the room as quietly and unobtrusively as he could, and went up the boys-side stairs.

He had just opened the door to his dormitory room when he stopped, frozen, then shut it most of the way again.

For on Ron's bed, he and Hermione Granger, too, were locked in a passionate embrace.

At once, Harry wanted to shut the door completely, back away, pretend he'd never seen anything.

Yet... On the other side of that door, laying almost completely atop Ron, was Hermione Granger, clad only in an emerald-green bra- and school-regulation skirt (and only those, or perhaps her knickers, still). If nothing else, as long as he watched, he might see more of his bushy-haired, yet very attractive best friend.

Slowly, the door creaked further open under the slightest pressure of his hand.

Ron glanced that way briefly, and Harry froze, but at once the ginger's right hand, which had been resting at the small of Hermione's back, slid down, over her raised arse, and up beneath the hem of the skirt, lifting it slightly.

She groaned, "God, Ron..." but did not tell him to stop. Instead, Harry, through the wider, almost fully-open door, could easily make out that his best mate's other hand was fondling Hermione's bra-clad chest, while her own hands tangled in the long, orange hair.

Their lips only separated long enough for one or the other to say something breathlessly while they continued to grope at each other, Ron's hands more or less staying in position, kneading gently, while Hermione writhed slowly on top of him.

Needless to say, despite just emptying himself into Pansy, Harry was rock-hard again.

It was not even a conscious decision to slip through the door and, with a very soft Silencio cast upon his bed, to climb into it under the cloak and free himself to wank while he watched.

"Ron," Hermione eventually gasped, pulling away from their locked lips briefly, "I... are you... sure? I mean, if I... with Harry? Too, I mean? It won't make you-"

"Merlin, no," Ron growled, "'Course it won't. I won't force you, though. If you want to be with Harry and not..."

Harry, on the bed across the room, swallowed. Did Hermione want to be with him, more? Did he want her to? Or did what she had said a few days previous hold true, did she really love them both equally, want them both?

If so... how would he handle that?

Could he?

Bodies, naked and sweating beneath or before him, on their backs or knees or both, flashed through his memory.

Daphne Greengrass. Lilith (again and again). The unknown girl in the broom closet. Cho Chang. Marietta... whatever her last name was. And now, Pansy Parkinson.

He'd 'been with' each of them, yet still wanted Hermione just as badly as before- maybe worse. But did he 'love her'? Of course... as friends. Perhaps a sister, maybe. But he certainly still wanted to shag her rotten, preferably repeatedly.

That wasn't a brotherly feeling, right?

And Ron... surely, Hermione knew, rather than just suspecting, that they'd both been shagging several people in the last week.

Did she not care?

"I do," Hermione eventually said softly, but firmly, "I want you both. If- If you'll have me, that is. I don't care what your parents say. Or mine, for that matter. Or those... those other girls."

Harry grinned in time with his best mate, who, despite the undress of their other best friend atop him, gave a solemn smile, "Alright, then," Ron said, "well... as far as you want to go, then, and no farther. You said..."

"I know," Hermione whispered, "And... no shagging. Yet. But I think I want... more. Can you promise me you won't force it?"

"Force what, exactly?" Ron asked breathlessly, as Hermione sat up over his knees, then started scooting down the bed.

Hermione, though, said nothing. Instead, her hands slid down Ron's bare chest, then as soon as they reached them, slipped under the hem of his pyjamas.

"H- Hermione," Ron groaned, but she still did not stop.

Instead, she pulled up, then out, and down, freeing Ron's penis completely. But Hermione, eyes still locked on the turgid shaft, which Harry, now that he was actually allowing himself to look, would have put at a full seven inches and barely more than an inch in diameter, placed her open left palm, fingers facing Ron's chin, down lightly upon it.

He gave what seemed to be an involuntary thrust of his hips, which made Hermione jump slightly, then his eyes flickered closed, and he gave a deep, pleased sigh. "Feels nice," he murmured, as he let a small smile spread across his face even while he relaxed back against the pillow to give Hermione free access.

Remarkably trusting, Harry thought idly as he watched her fingers trail up and down over Ron's member, given how they fight all the time.

But Hermione must not have been feeling very vengeful, for, with wide eyes and shallow breaths, she continued exploring her- boyfriend? Had they, then, decided to get together more formally, as he had suspected they might since the previous year?

Slowly, so as not to alert either of his best friends to his voyeurism, Harry's left hand started creeping down to adjust himself in his trousers, while his right felt in the pocket of the same for the handle of his wand. "Silencio," he whispered, as quietly as he could, trying to keep the area of the spell only around his own bed. He did not want to risk missing Hermione's husky, breathless voice, even if what she was saying wasn't meant for his ears.

Once the spell had fallen into place, Harry's right hand joined his left, and a moment later, his own member was standing free and tall, hidden only by the Invisibility Cloak. He exhaled in relief- his pants had been getting very tight lately, especially when aroused- and relaxed back against the wall, his legs across his bed, while he watched his friends.

He didn't even notice when his own hands started tracing paths along his dick that mirrored Hermione's across the room.

When she shifted from light tracing and prodding to wrapping her hand around the long rod and actually stroking it from top to bottom, alternating gentle tugs and sliding, Ron gave an actual groan of pleasure, and Harry switched to stroking himself, too.

At first, Hermione was hesitant and unsure, but she was now switching her attention rapidly between what her hands were doing between Ron's legs and the ginger's face, which was as blissful as Harry had ever seen it, equal to, if not surpassing, the just-shagged-out look he'd had when Harry had been urged to shag Marietta right after Ron had fallen unconscious.

"Does that feel good?" Hermione asked, the quirk of her lip telling Harry very emphatically that she knew it did, but wanted to hear Ron say it.

"Yeah," Ron murmured, "Feels amazing."

Then Hermione hesitated. "As... as good as your... your 'partners'?"

Harry winced, but Ron, heedless, shook his head. "'Nah. Great, but not that good, and none of them have... well, done this. Except Lilith."

"Oh," she said quietly. But, to Harry's surprise, she didn't stop, or even show much in the way of indignation or other negative emotion. "Does it feel as good as when she...?"

"Yeah, does actually," Ron replied, "I'm not sure... why, exactly."

One of Hermione's eyebrows, the one facing Harry, rose. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, she's," he suddenly looked extremely uncomfortable, and very aware that he was completely vulnerable to a friend with a known temper and vindictive streak, "I mean, er..."

"You mean," Hermione finished for him, and, judging by her tone, Harry felt she was telling Ron more what he was thinking rather than asking, "that because Lilith is a succubus, you expected her to feel better than a human girl?"

Ron nodded, weakly, after a moment's hesitation.

A moment later, Hermione did, too. Then she whispered, "Thank you for your honesty, Ron. I'll... try to learn quickly. Let me show you part of what I've learned recently."

Then, to Harry's (and, no doubt, Ron's) immense shock, her head sank low until the bushy curtain of her hair covered every pleasant view. But, judging from Ron's ecstatic expression, she had just taken him into her mouth.

"Pretty sexy," Lilith whispered from outside the cloak, making Harry jump, then she lifted a hem to start climbing inside.

Once she had, the Succubus wormed her way onto Harry's lap, his attention thoroughly divided between watching what little he could see of Hermione sucking Ron off, and the half-nude (which was still strange to him, since she was usually completely nude around him), almost child-like creature climbing atop him. Then she gently pulled his hands away and sank down onto his member, before pulling his hands underneath her arms to her small chest, and leaned against him with a sigh, slowly pushing herself up and down his shaft with her thighs.

"That's nice," she murmured, almost limp against him, "Good sex instead of horrible images."

Indeed, it did feel amazing, for Lilith was as tight and warm as ever, and literally dripping with the liquids of her arousal, which Harry felt quite matched how turned on he was. But...

"How did it go?" he asked softly, turning a little more of his attention from his best friends to the new one on his lap.

"So-so," she muttered, sounding almost disappointed, "I got everything set up, but I couldn't execute. And I'll, unfortunately, need you or one of them," with a hand pointing at his friends, "for the last bit, because I don't think my 'proof' will work from me. I couldn't get the memory out for my test run."

"Er... okay?"

"Don't worry about it, Master," Lilith exhaled, now sounding quite exhausted, "Just make love to me and then sleep. I might sleep- actually sleep- myself, as tired as I am."

"I thought you said you don't."

She shrugged, ground her tiny arse against his hips, and started lifting with a little more vigor, which made him sigh in content pleasure as well. "I don't, but we have something similar at least. Don't need it as often- every month or so- but we need a mental rest, if nothing else. How was your Slytherin tart?"

"Surprisingly good shag," he answered after a moment, and was just as surprised that he meant it. Pansy had been pretty sexy, once he'd gotten a bit of a look underneath her conservative school robes, and eager enough before she knew it was him.

And after...

Harry grinned, "She was horrified when she found out it was my jizz in her throat, though. Tried to spit it out, but I wouldn't let her."

"Heh," Lilith murmured, bouncing faster now, "And your friend... she ever given fellatio, before?"

"Not to my knowledge," Harry shook his head, pinching her nipples as he looked across the room. "I'm... pretty close."

"That's fine," she answered, "Whenever you want. I'm satisfied, until you make us climax."

"I think you should do the work, my little pet," Harry cooed into her ear, "Tired or not, you're the Succubus."

"Am I?" she answered coyly, "Well, in that case..."

And she suddenly started writhing and panting on his lap with a great deal more energy, moaning and gasping his name.

Across the room, Ron's hand fell on Hermione's mane, but even in his own distraction at the sudden increase in carnal pleasure he was feeling, Harry was glad he didn't try to control their friend's motions. "H- Hermione-" Ron said, before he started to grunt and thrust, no doubt into her mouth.

He heard a gag, but just one, and then quiet slurping. A cough, and a wet, sticky smacking of lips, then Hermione sat up, one hand still idly stroking the now semi-flaccid member.

"I'll... well, that wasn't too bad," Hermione said, "But I should really be getting back to my dorm. Good night, Ron."

A moment later, she was dressed and gone, with Lilith still riding Harry hard.

Just as his orgasm approached, Ron looked across at the seemingly empty bed and smirked, "Pervert," then rolled over and pulled the covers up, not bothering to hide his penis otherwise.

Harry had to admit it, as his own orgasm built, that he probably was. Even if he hadn't been before Lilith (but he had chosen, whether in a moment of weakness or not, a Succubus to fulfill his own pleasures), he certainly was now.

The Succubus fell back against him completely, hips gyrating radically as she rose and fell, convincing Harry that he wouldn't last much longer, either. One hand slipped down Lilith's glistening body and pinched her tiny clit lightly, while the other continued grasping at her equally small chest, occasionally pinching, too, at the firm nipples.

She shuddered after a few moments, then gasped, throwing her head back onto his left shoulder, her vaginal walls starting to spasm around him.

That was more than enough to put him, only moments away regardless, into a full-on climax that made Harry grunt and almost fall over with the uncontrollable force he found himself thrusting up into the little body with. Once again, he nearly whited out from the pressure he felt being released.

When he came back to himself, Harry was lying next to the nude body of the Succubus, who still glistened as she lay on her back with a content little smile playing on her pink lips, eyes closed, and seemingly quite shagged-out herself. Gently, so as not to jostle the bed too much, he, too, removed his clothes, threw them into the hamper at the foot of his bed, then remembered to shut the curtain and put up a Silencing Charm.

Ron, though, was turned away and snoring quietly, so it was likely that, as the Invisibility Cloak had fallen off the pair of them, he had seen nothing.

She really is beautiful, Harry thought, gazing down at his summoned servant. Idly, his hand rose to her flat belly and began to caress.

"M'tired, Master," she murmured, "but if you want another round..."

"No, that's alright," he replied quietly, glancing down at his dick. It hadn't decreased in size as much as he might have thought, and was still wet from their combined fluids, but it wasn't even half-erect. "I'm fine, just enjoying looking at you, wanted to feel you, too. Do you mind?"

She shook her head, the rose-colored locks bouncing with it, "No... you can keep going."

"Alright," he murmured, then spent the majority of the next hour tracing her body's lines, contours, and shapes. Observing, now that he had experience to compare it to, how her small mounded breasts slid to the side around the rib cage, but not as much as the larger girl's (and even Cho was larger in the chest, slender and petite as she was) had.

How the area above her groin had just the tiniest little heart of equally pink, curly hair at the top of the slit, which was slightly puffy and more pink than usual from their activities, but which still smelt of... well, him, of course, and even from the side Harry could see a little of his white seminal fluid leaking out, showing that Lilith had not absorbed it yet, but also the scent of bubblegum. Appropriate, I guess. Bubblegum hair, bubblegum smell.

Her dainty fingers and toes, which were delicate but a little long on her short frame, and the way her throat worked every half-minute or so to swallow what was probably her species' equivalent of saliva.

"Feels nice, Master," Lilith whispered as he, even through the silenced curtains heard Dean, Seamus, and Neville come in and argue briefly before heading to bed, "There's erogenous zones all over a woman's body."

"Oh," he said softly, "I didn't know that. So not just br- breasts and-"

She smiled, eyes still closed, and shook her head again. "No, there's literally hundreds, but not every zone is effective on every woman. You have to explore- like you are right now- and experiment to find out what's best for each partner, but many have certain ones in common. The obvious ones, of course. Me... I am an erogenous zone."

He echoed her grin, but continued stroking her lightly, including, now, the occasional graze of his fingernails. "Have you ever... no, I know you have. Sorry, stupid question. Um... do you mind if I... taste you?"

She shook her head at once and opened her thin legs to present her flower to him. Harry watched, fascinated, as his cum slid up from the pool beneath her, up the slit, into her gently throbbing hole, and vanished.

"That was weird," he admitted, "but sexy as hell."

"Glad to be of service, Master," she cooed, then shifted her hips slightly.

He got the hint, and moved down to the end of the bed, then leaned down and in. He sniffed, then dove in, getting immediately to work.

Yep, definitely bubblegum. Huh.

Unfortunately, while Harry was partially- for he felt strangely energized, even if Lilith herself was tired- hoping to wow his servant with his new-found expertise, she did not writhe or groan or... well, not quickly.

Instead, she only cooed and put one little hand on his head, "Feels nice..."

Twenty minutes later, Harry's tongue was about to give out. It wasn't used to this kind of exercise at all, and especially not this much.

And he was hard, now, too!

But Lilith finally jerked silently, and her eyes flew open in a silent cry. She spurted, just a little, of the same bubblegum flavor into his mouth, and Harry lapped it up eagerly, before sitting up with a satisfied smile.

"Don't- get too- cocky, M- Master," Lilith smiled gently, her violet eyes turning down to him after a few seconds, "You took a- a long time, getting me- there. But it felt great, so you are learning."

"Thanks," he said, licking his lips and wiping his chin with his hand, "Um..."

"I said I'm always ready, Master, if you want some," Lilith replied when she followed his eyes down to between his own legs, "so just use me. You don't have to ask, I'm never going to say no. Unless you want to go out and find someone from downstairs, there's still several down there, mostly asleep."

Harry thought about saying no, but...

There were a few down there he wouldn't mind...

But no, for now, it was late. "No, I think I'm just going to lay here," then crawled up beside the succubus and pulled her tight against him, "dreaming about tomorrow."

She smiled, leaned up to press a kiss to his lips as one hand gripped his member but didn't stroke even once, "Sometimes waiting is worth it. Good night, Master."

"Good night, Lilith."

A/N2: Review, folks! New chapters posted monthly, but I will post early when I hit 10 reviews per chapter!

Glossary:

Concubine Contracts: Gender-neutral contracts between two peoples or families designed for the continuation of a family line or name. They primarily were intended for families with only surviving daughters to birth children and heirs by having 'legitimate' children with second- or third-heir children of another house. These children would take on at birth the family name of the 'concubine's' family rather than their 'father's'. Historically, this was not always well-respected, and many families who were abused or tricked into signing such contracts came off the worse for it. With the reformations of the Ministry of Magic in Great Britain, however, much more strictly enforced laws came into being in the sixteen hundreds. Now, Concubine Contracts are, while not exactly sought after in most cases, a quite viable and usually safe alternative to losing the family name forever, especially in cases where a younger son does not want to give up the family name of his birth to take on that of his spouse.

In this more gender-equal world, there is no distinction between which house is to take on the other's name. In fact, in Harry's case [Spoiler alert], he will likely both have Concubines and be one for someone else, a female. Astute readers may already have a good guess as to whom.
Breaching such a contract is not limited to only civil fines or similar, however. It can be prosecuted as a criminal offense, including but not limited to child endangerment, child abandonment, reckless endangerment, theft, and so on. As such, these contracts are rarely entered lightly. Harry was not exactly duped into agreeing to Daphne's proposal (even by agreeing to consider it), but she certainly didn't tell him the whole story. Not that she suspects he'd renege on his word. That's why she picked him in the first place.