Chapter Sixty Seven
"How does that feel?" Cissy asked gently, rubbing her thumb around the base of his cock. The reattachment had been painful and he'd screamed like a baby, made worse by Tom's hysterical laughter in his mind.
"Better." He sighed, lounging back on the bed. "I just want to stay in this bed and never leave it." Helena and Cissy had pampered him in his recovery and weren't giving him much incentive to leave — Helena was curled around his side in just his Hogwarts formal shirt, feeding him alternately from a platter of baked goods, fruit and pastries.
Narcissa wore an old white tee and some long gardening trousers — she'd been very determined that he not become erect until she was his cock was healed and attached properly. Unfortunately, she was so sexy and buxom that her tits were straining from her t-shirt, her pink nipples outlined.
"You feel that?" She cupped his balls gently.
"Yes."
"And this?" She slowly stroked up his shaft. His cock tingled, hardening. "Oh, there it is."
Harry exhaled slowly. "All hail the res-erection."
Cissy gave him a chiding look. "I do wish you'd stop hanging around with Sirius — he's a bad influence."
"You're not wrong." He watched his cock grow, wincing in anticipation of pain that never came. Seeing little Harry stand tall and proud felt oddly emotional — uncomfortably, the closest comparison he had was Tom's sentimental triumph when he was reborn in the graveyard.
Helena kissed his cheek lovingly. "I would have still loved you without a penis, my Harry."
"Well put, darling." Narcissa added approvingly.
Harry slid her shirt up and pinched the younger Malfoy's bottom. "That's because you know what I can do with my hands." He wiggled his eyebrows.
"Stahp!" She giggled.
"We had best make sure it still works correctly." Cissy said hungrily. "Oh, I just hate wearing these awful things." She pressed a kiss to his thigh. "Let me go and change for you quickly, darling."
Harry shrugged. "I'm not going anywhere." The thought of Hogwarts felt unbearable right now — he just wanted to hide away from all of his problems. The devious Veela, petrified Luna, Neville's grief at the people they'd killed. And beyond it all, growing ever stronger, Voldemort.
That was a problem for tomorrow. Today was for rest and recovery and tender loving care. As he pawed at Helena's tight little behind, enjoying her little squeals and chastisements, his fingers found something cold.
"Oh," He murmured. He hadn't exactly forgotten, but it was so surreal. The women that loved him so much that they'd submit to such a token. A bejeweled buttplug to stir every step, to jolt every seat.
It was like a Dark Mark that they begged for — Hermione was actually to charm them such that he could communicate with them, although he rather thought she was trying to create excuses for wearing hers constantly.
Harry wasn't even sure if they enjoyed the actual sensation, as much as they despaired of the idea that they weren't as loved as the girls that did have them. The plugs had created an unintentional ranking system, one that even Hermione was taken in by.
"Honestly, Hannah is such a baby." Hermione rolled her eyes. "I pulled her into a broom cupboard to check it because I was worried it would fall out," She gave him a withering glare. "Since you said I couldn't wear panties yesterday. As soon as she saw it, she burst into tears!"
Harry was quite certain that Hermione had been showing off rather than needing Hannah's help — she'd been on cloud nine since he'd told her how the plug was a reminder of his eternal love for her. He'd caught her humming happily while doing his homework for next year and her last blowjob could have been mistaken for a semi-religious worship ritual.
He should have felt guilty at creating divisions in his harem but, to his shame, he quite enjoyed watching the girls fight for position — it made it all the sweeter when he cockslapped them back to Earth.
Helena cooed as he took hold of her plug, wriggling her bum, panting softly as he worked it in and out. "How have you found it?" He asked.
"It's a lot." She confessed. "The girls and I flew around Durmstrang the other day and feeling it rub against the broomstick," She blushed. "I came so much I was dripping as I flew." She scowled and smacked his arm when he guffawed. "It's not funny! Radmila was flying below and wiped her face — she thought it was the snow!"
He kissed her forehead, still sniggering. "I forgot how wet you get."
Helena squirmed her thighs. "You should have seen Daphne yesterday — we'll need to put down special sheets next time."
Harry winced at the image of the poor girl. "You two really put her through it, huh?"
Helena whispered furtively. "Don't tell her but I think Mother was just working out her anger that you took her you-know before Mother's."
"What are you two whispering about?" Narcissa said from the doorway.
Harry whistled — Cissy was a blonde bombshell in a pale pink teddy of lace and sheer mesh — her milky skin was visible wherever the embroidered flowers were not, the floral pattern twining up from the tight thong, climbing like a clematis, before spreading across her breasts.
The lingerie was entirely revealing, her hard large nipples peeking between the embroidered petals, and even more so when she turned around for him — the thong was swallowed by her thick cheeks, unable to hide the pink diamond gleaming from her asshole.
Cissy blushed at his leering attention but she was smiling happily.
"This is new."
"I bought it for you. For us." She played with her hands demurely, staring at the carpet. "For a special occasion."
"Come here, love." She crawled to meet him eagerly, her tits jiggling freely in the struggling cups of the teddy. When they kissed, it was like their first kiss after she was bonded, a lover's kiss.
She swooned, feeling his ardent devotion, and melted onto his chest. It was made all the better by having her daughter join their embrace, covering his skin completely.
Drowning him in love. The thought made her heart bloom. They simply lay on top of him, waiting for his touch, eager but obedient.
The most deliciously naughty thing, Narcissa decided, was how synchronised she was with her daughter. Two simultaneous squeals when one of Harry's big strong hands clapped against their peachy bottoms. Two loud claps. Two pristine behinds that would redden with the prints of his hands.
Two slutty moans when he toyed with their plugs.
We're his good girls but we're so bad!
Their faces were buried in the crook of his neck but Cissy could see her daughter's excited eyes meet hers, feel her hand take hers and squeeze it.
For a few minutes, they lay there while Harry played, pulling and pushing their plugs like the terrible tease he was. Cissy whimpered and cooed and squirmed as he used their plugs to fuck them. She knew he was deliberately silent so the sounds would be all the louder — the pops as their rosebuds puckered close and were then rebreached, the wet squish of their pussies when they squirmed their thighs together, the murmurs for more.
"What was that?" Harry taunted.
Narcissa buried her red face in his neck. "More!" She beseeched, trying to push her plump bottom out for his touch. Even after all these months, she could scarcely believe what a scarlet woman she'd become, how much she yearned for his pleasures.
Before, she had never even considered that her little hole could give pleasure to a man, let alone receive it. It was, she supposed, the one thing she should thank Daphne for.
She had breached the gates of Harry's undiscovered lusts and given Narcissa a whole new way to love him.
A way she was quietly determined to begin. Her hand found his cock between her and Helena. Her naughty daughter was already there, stroking him!
Helena gave her a little mischievous smile, which jolted Narcissa's heart. Her daughter's smiles, laughter, happiness — they were all a intense reminder of how much she owed Harry.
"Please!" Cissy cried. The feelings inside were just too much. She had to let it out or she'd explode like a cauldron.
"Please what, darling?" Harry said, stroking her back as he plunged her plug into her.
"Please love me. Use me." She didn't realize she was crying until she felt the wetness of his neck against her cheek. "I'm yours, I'm yours!"
"Easy, easy." He said gently, leaving her bottom to tangle both hands in her long waves of hair. He tugged her head back sharply and she felt that spidery sensation of pleasure at the nape of her neck, the roots of her hair. She thrilled at well he knew her, could play her.
What else was love, if not to be known so completely, to be naked in all ways and feel so seen?
He made her look upon his eyes and she fell into them as always, head over feet, an endless spin into the emerald of his eyes.
"I know what you need." Harry said gently, wiping her tears away. "Shush, flower. I'm going to take care of everything."
Narcissa smiled breathlessly — he remembered. Of course he remembered, she chastised. How could she doubt him? Their first night in this very bedroom.
Like that night, he settled her down on the bed, rested her head on the pillow. He touched her everywhere, his lips on hers, his hands on her thighs, on her ass, everywhere.
He vanished and reappeared at her breasts, tugging her teddy down to suckle on her nipples. They were her weakness every bit today as they were that first day, swelling under his rough tongue.
She laughed giddily as she thrust her chest out, because still her man was a boy, suckling and rubbing his face over her breasts. Her silly beloved thought he'd taken her freedom — did he not realize that he'd given it to her? To laugh so freely, to smile without restraint?
Harry was feeling nostalgic for that day, it seemed — she was on her side, her legs interwined with his as his fingers slipped under the thong of her teddy and pulled it aside. On that day, she'd thought about the discarded magazine for witches she'd found on her table at Fortescue's, about the article they'd written on 'Ten Reasons Why Harry Potter Would Make You Scream Like A Banshee'.
When Harry curled her fingers into her for the first time, she'd remembered number five — his long, almost feminine, fingers. Today, she didn't scream but mewled like a kitten as he pumped her.
It was the same but different — while Harry made her essence seep from her core, holding her from behind, nibbling at her neck, one hand groping at her breast, Cissy stared into her daughter's eyes.
Helena stroked the hair out of her eyes. Held her hands. Nuzzled her nose.
Cissy trembled and cried as she came, because she always came so easily with him. Even now after everything, she felt herself blaze red with embarrassment, because Harry made her look, feel, so improper, so easy.
Harry kissed a comforting kiss to her neck, because he could be the gentleman. And then he smiled at Helena as he ran his hand between Narcissa's drenched thighs. "You get it from her, don't you?" He said, displaying his coated hand.
Narcissa flushed — he could be a gentleman but he often preferred to play the cad.
Helena giggled. "Mother's given me everything I'm grateful for. Any beauty I have, all my brains…you."
"My beautiful brainy Malfoy girls." He said fondly. "Your mother gets even wetter than you, darling."
Helena sighed softly. "Mother is wiser too — I found her grades from her Hogwarts days. I need to study more." She said.
Cissy pressed her lips flat. "Sweetie, you're just as smart as I am — you're top of your class."
Harry laughed. "Once I started offering you rewards for grades, at least."
Her reply was quelled by the touch of his hand between her legs.
Sometimes she wished she wasn't such a doormat for him. That she could challenge him in the ways that Hermione did, even Apolline could. But when he slipped away from her back and approached on his knees, brandishing his cock like a weapon, Cissy spread her thighs obediently.
She knew she never could — she was his. His first, she thought, trembling with joy, her heartbeat racing. That was special.
He took her hand and kissed it, pressed it against his cheek. He knew this was special too — they had something else of hers for him to take, for the first time.
"I'm so happy." She mumbled, because she couldn't think of anything else to say.
"I love you, my Cissy." He said simply. She didn't need to say it back — he already knew.
Her heart felt like it would explode. Helena took the plug he withdrew from her and held her hand comfortingly.
"I'm not nervous." She said, as her daughter lifted her head to place another pillow underneath it. It was kind, but it only gave her a better view of something that did engender some nerves.
Her Harry was better in all ways than any other man, and so of course that would include his member. Still, she wasn't worried — she had long since come to believe that her purpose on this world was to love him. Morgana would never shape her in such a way that she could not please her man.
And if not, Harry could just reshape her. She liked to imagine that he was enormous so he could touch the tip of himself against her beating heart. What was a little pain before that beautiful pleasure?
"Wait," Harry paused.
"What? What's wrong?" Narcissa said anxiously.
"I want to really pound your big beautiful ass, sweetheart."
"Harry!" She said, embarrassed.
"This isn't the right position." He hummed. Cissy squealed as he forcefully manhandled her, turning her over until her face was smooshed into the pillow and her ass was arched up for him.
"Ooh!" Helena scampered to Harry's side and whispered in his ear.
"What are you whispering about?" She bemoaned, before yelping as she was suddenly lifted bodily. She was always surprised at Harry's muscular strength — a fitness routine of as much sex as he could handle had wonders for him.
When she was placed back down, Cissy blinked. Her knees were yanked up and parted. She was still on her front, but now she was lying on something warm, her hands on her daughter's calves. Which meant—
"Ooh!" She shuddered as she felt Helena tongue her pussy from below. She glanced over her shoulder, seeing Harry's excitement as he parted her cheeks — she could imagine that he could see Helena's own eyes and lapping tongue below as he touched his cockhead to her asshole.
"Perfect." Harry murmured, his hands taking a firm hold of her hips. Narcissa felt herself flood Helena's eager tongue purely at the position — it was so primal, so carnal, so right. Harry grasping her waist firmly so he could fuck her ass hard, while her own daughter made her gush from her naughty pussy.
"Yes," Narcissa shivered. It was perfect — she was Harry's fucktoy, pressed into the bed, on her knees, her ass ready to be pounded, her teddy's thong pulled aside, her tits freed from their cups and jiggling for his pleasure. Anal sex wasn't about love — that was why that whore Daphne had gotten it first. It was about raw taboo obscenity and hard brutal pounding.
"Guuuuuh!" She hissed as his cock nudged against her rosebud.
It's happening!
She'd been waiting forever. To be taken, to be broken in.
The pop was loud, making her gasp shamefully as her asshole swallowed his cockhead. He was in! She could hardly believe it, trembling at the sensations.
She glanced over her shoulder, through her hair, taking in the glorious sight — his pleasure, his excitement, his cock slowly shifting in.
"Oh, fuck!" She bit the pillow, her hands gripping the sheets. She felt so full and his cock felt like a hot poker.
"So tight." Harry grit his teeth. "Relax, sweetheart."
Narcissa tried her best to ease her muscles.
"You're my good girl, aren't you?"
Those words were intended to relax but the loving possession in her tone only ended up making her shudder and cum hard on Helena's tongue, tightening up just as Harry thrust deeper.
"Gur—" She shrieked into the pillow. Her eyes rolled back and she saw only black, her face going slack.
Harry grinned to himself - in the beginning, that sex-filled summer, Cissy'd had a problem keeping her brain between her ears when they had sex — give her a few inches and she was dribbling down her chin, tongue lolling out.
Eventually, she'd managed to gain some composure, enough to ride him, enough to tease him even, sometimes. But taking it up the ass had reverted her back to her base state.
Harry was having trouble staying composed himself — her asshole was tight and hot and convulsing around his cock, but it was the sight more than anything that threatened to make him unload quick — her breathtaking bubble of a bottom, her inverted heart ass-cheeks, perfect milky pillows
"It's wrong, it's so wrong!" She sobbed.
He swore, taking in the moment. His entire cock had vanished and he was in the depths of her ass. Her asshole had stretched around the base of his shaft like a rubber. Bottoming out had set her off again — Harry could only hold her hips as she came — she alternated between screams and wails, writhing, jerking and shaking.
Her anal orgasm did wonderful things to her bottom — her cheeks jiggling, bouncing softly against his cock, and inside her, her cumming made her whole tunnel shudder and squeeze him.
"Imagine if high society could see you now." He needled. "The cold fish Narcissa Malfoy, cumming with a dick in her ass."
"Guh. " She replied, insensate.
He couldn't take it anymore — he had to fuck her. He took a firm hold of her waist, withdrew and, unable to be gentle, slammed back into her tight ass.
Below, Harry could see Helena's beautiful blue eyes widening as her mother's squirting river kept flooding her mouth. Cissy was enjoying her first anal, it seemed, and so Harry got started in earnest.
He rolled his hips, pumping hard, delighting in the sensations of her asscheeks — they didn't just look pillowy, they were pillows for his thrusts, warm and soft and bouncy, no matter how hard he fucked into them.
He couldn't take his eyes off them as they bounced and clapped together loudly, but they couldn't drown out Cissy's loud cries.
"You love it, don't you?" Harry grinned. He loved it when his Narcissa became wild — she of all his girls made him think his love had made her life better, changed from the cold matriarch to a loving housewife.
Even though he adored her, he still liked to remember the Narcissa Malfoy that was, the icy bitch with her nose in the air. That memory made it all the sweeter now he fucked her, hard and deep, his hands switching between her thick buttocks and her wide breeding hips.
Her thighs were shuddering, her knees weak, her face pressed into the pillow, but his good girl kept her ass up for him. She was even able to answer him.
"Y-yessss!" She sobbed. "I love you."
He spanked her hard. "That's not what I asked. Do you love it?"
"It-it's not right!"
"Don't lie to me!"
"Y-yes!"
Harry slowed to a still and she whimpered, looking back at him.
"What do you love?"
She gave him a tearful smile. "I love you in my bottom, Master. I love being able to make you happy, my Lord."
She shuddered when he leaned forward, still deep inside her, to rub his thumb against her lips as she craned her head back, her long glossy platinum-blonde hair falling over her sweaty back, over her dimples above her ass. Narcissa obediently fellated his thumb.
"Are we going to do this again?" He asked.
She nodded around his thumb.
"How much?" He withdrew.
"As much as you want, Master." She promised through sultry eyes. "My heart, my body. It's all yours."
"Good girl." He took hold of each of her arms, her hands in each of his. "I need to be gentle now, darling."
Narcissa's eyes clouded with confusion. "Gentle?"
"I had rough sex with Veela, half of which we then killed." He grimaced. "Right now I want some loving from my Cissy."
She melted, unable to stop gazing at him with fervent adoration. "I love you." She stammered.
Harry pulled his cock out for a second, just to admire her gaping asshole, how he'd ruined her. And then he sank slowly back into her tight heat, laying on top of her, his lips at her ears.
One arm around her throat and the other palming her breasts, he ground his cock in circles in her ass, stirring his cock as his precum lanced inside her.
"We're going to do this a lot, sweetheart." He murmured into her ears. "My Cissy's going to be a good anal slut for me, day and night."
"But it's so wrong—" Despite her words, she bucked her ass back at him, pressing him deeper.
"And she'll always be plugged and ready for me, just like how she's always wet and ready."
"You're so naughty." She wailed, panting at just the thought. He fucked her slow, rocking back and forth.
He found her voice to be an unbelievable turn on, her hoarse cries of "Unh…yes…please…uh…" as he rutted inside her hottest depths, thankful his cock was big enough to part her large asscheeks.
Tears ran down her cheeks as he kissed her face and neck, nibbled on her earlobe.
"This is what I…unh…love the most." She said, wrapping her arms behind her, behind him.
"What?"
"Being covered by you. Your hands on my breasts…unh, my love, you're so deep. I can't move, I'm just covered in your love." She beamed, shuddering under him. "It's indescribable."
"Is it different? Anal?"
She bit her lip as he thrust particularly hard. "Feels like you're in my stomach…so no." She giggled. "But it's so tight I can feel every vein of yours." She swallowed. "It's so wrong. I never knew women did this, not really."
"Now you're one of them." Harry kissed behind her ear, feeling her trembling excitement. "A woman who gets sodomised, buggered. Assfucked."
"A mistress." Narcissa pulsed, wiggling her ass for him, every sensation threatening to push him past the edge of no return.
"I'm going to cum soon." Harry said simply, squeezing her tits and tweaking her nipple between two fingers.
"Please—" She begged. "All of your cum."
"Where do you want it?"
She blushed and gave him the naughtiest look over her shoulder, through sweat-stuck hair. "In me."
"In your ass?"
She nodded wordlessly.
"So your daughter can taste it as it dribbles down into her mouth?"
"Harry!" But the thought had excited her. He could feel her tightening for him, her whimpers loud when he rammed her harder. He squeezed her huge tits, enjoying her pants as he kneaded her soft creamy breasts, all while pumping his dick back and forth, gaining speed, withdrawing more of his cock and thrusting back in.
When he withdrew completely and slammed her balls-deep, she set him off with an obscene long moan, drawing up on her arms to push her ass back out for him, desperate for every inch of his shaft. Her asshole tightened, twitched, tautened, her tight tunnel squeezing and milking his cock — and Harry could hold it no longer, his cock jerking wildly.
"Cissy!" He growled as she cried his name, her eyes crossing, an intense orgasm shook through her body.
He blew his load into the depths of her asshole, his balls pressed against her skin as they unloaded.
Thick ropes of cum, like a water hose to douse the heat of her ass — it was like every rope he spurted set her off again. He had to struggle just to keep her pinned beneath him, and he could hear Helena's constant gulping as she was drowned under Cissy's gushing cunt.
Finally, she flopped, limp, exhausted but smiling.
"Fuck," Harry breathed out, wiping some sweat from his face. He always forgot how wild his Cissy got. "I think my cock still works." He quipped.
Cissy shook but, he realized, with tears and not laughter.
"Hey, hey," He stroked her hair. "You're okay."
She sniffled, wiping her face. "Every day with you is a step into unknown pleasures. Every time I think I know what love is, you make me realize I'm mistaking a pond for a ocean, and our love is so much wider, deeper."
"Narcissa." He said, breath caught by the depths of her emotion.
She clutched at his hand, enjoying the feeling of him buried inside her. "Beloved, never let me fall into routine or to take what we have for granted. Make me love you in every way if I'm too foolish or blind to gift it first."
"Always." He promised.
Her eyes shone.
After a cuddle, Harry slowly pulled out of her ass and had to laugh himself as he saw Helena below her mother, her face shining and wet in Cissy's dew, soaked.
"Sweetie," Narcissa said tiredly, her face in the pillow. "Don't forget to clean him."
Harry shook her head — even after that, a mother never stopped nagging. Helena, for what it was worth, tilted her head back for him to sink his cock down her throat, her eyes lustful.
He felt too guilty to spend more than a few seconds in her gullet, although it didn't stop him from parting Cissy's cheeks to encourage his seed to ooze out of her abused asshole and drip into Helena's waiting mouth.
He even gave Cissy a sharp spank to speed the flow up.
"Harry…" The older woman moaned, one hand on her cum-stretched tummy. "That's so naughty."
Helena's eyes had widened, her face going slack, even as she dutifully swallowed everything, moaning with appreciation at the taste. His darling Malfoy girlfriend was always so innocent, even with everything she saw.
"I think she's enjoying it." Harry defended himself. The petite blonde's eyelids fluttered.
"Be gentle with her, love."
"Alright," Harry patted the Cissy's bottom affectionately. "We'll have a break before it's her turn."
"Gurk!" At his words, Helena choked and coughed on the heavy flow of cum, his jizz snorting out of her nostrils.
"Don't waste his cum!" Cissy said sharply. "Maybe she does need to study more." She shook her head.
Narcissa's words brought back the realization he'd had when Helena had sighed about her mother being wiser than her.
Tom's memories trickled through to clarity with a slow pace, but always quicker whenever he bonded a new girl, gained new power. Since he'd taken Fleur, he was remembering more and more, sparked by every sight and sound.
Helena's words had made him remember the memory of another Helena who thought the same, desperately envying her mother's brilliance and the attention it got her. Rowena Ravenclaw's daughter, Helena, who stole her mother's diadem to use its power.
The story that Tom Riddle charmed from the ghost of Ravenclaw House, the Grey Lady, Helena herself. How Rowena had ordered the Bloody Baron, who'd loved Helena, to bring her back from Albania. Only the Baron had stabbed Helena and then himself when she refused to return with him.
Tom had travelled to Albania to retrieve the diadem and made it into a Horcrux with a random peasant, before hiding it in the Room of Requirement.
An easy Horcrux to retrieve. Harry thought with satisfaction. He sighed happily as Helena swallowed mouthful after mouthful, feeling his cock stir once again — it was good to be home.
###
Harry placed the second coffee cup down just a hand came down to snatch it up. He watched Amelia glug it down greedily, tuning out the loud buzz of Espresso Patronum, the coffee shop in the Ministry atrium.
This was their little ritual — they'd both agreed to a catch-up every now and again, mostly because Harry wanted to keep an eye on Amelia before she really screwed up the timeline.
He let himself enjoy the jiggle of her breasts as she downed half the coffee in one go. She wore a pink silk blouse, a tight black skirt and four inch pumps — she certainly was playing the game differently this time around.
"Mwah." She smacked her lips. "Merlin, I needed that."
"Rough day?"
She gave him a dark look. "I forgot how irritating Fudge was even before he became Minister of Magic."
"Oh?" Harry said, with interest. He'd never liked Fudge — the man embodied everything wrong the Ministry, a populist without a brain. "Where is he?"
"Junior minister in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes."
"Seems pretty small time."
"Yeah, you'd think so, wouldn't you?" Amelia sighed, pulling her red hair out of its ponytail so it flowed down her back. "He tried to get his hands dirty in the Obliviators' department, show that he was more than a middle manager. Ended up wiping half this Muggle's brain."
"They're probably still smarter than Fudge." Harry bumped her hip.
She smirked. "You're in a good mood — is there another girl in the picture?"
"Still waiting on you, Bones."
"Keep waiting, Pot…Foxham." She curled her lip. "Although keep buying me coffees and I'll probably yield."
"Caffeine is a girl's best friend." Harry agreed. "But this might drop your panties — I've got a way to speed up your career fly-through."
"I'm listening."
"Why not read it?" He slapped down the invitation in front of her, the same one Bellatrix had owled to him.
Her brow furrowed. "The Black's Grand Magical Symposium — The Future of Magic: Bridging Divides and Fostering Unity." She paused for a long moment as the ink swirled on the parchment into elegant calligraphy and then burst off the page into red and green sparks.
Amelia looked at him dubiously. "This is Bellatrix's idea? Her way of bringing all the fish in the barrel for the Dark Lord to hook?"
He shook his head. "My idea. Her home, her name behind it." Her energy too — Bellatrix had organized the event quickly after he'd convinced her, throwing the considerable resources of House Black behind it.
"Same barrel."
"I've got her under control, trust me. This is going to be huge in swaying her from that path, in showing her a different way. Our way."
"Hmm." Amelia wasn't convinced.
"But forget about her — this is about you." Harry said, taking her arm to pull her down into a booth. "Giants and mermaids, Veela and goblins, every pureblood that matters from both sides of the fence."
She crossed her arms. "How does that help me?"
"Because I've got you down as a key speaker." He flipped over the parchment and pointed at the gleaming ink. "Amelia Bones — how institutions can protect and empower the next decade of magic." He read.
She gaped at him. "You put me down to speak?!"
"I made you a name to remember in politics, a decade before it was meant to happen. People know Lady Bones but they don't know Amelia Bones — this is your chance to show them." Harry said firmly. He needed her support to make this Symposium a success — having the brattiest single daughter of House Black wasn't enough to get people to attend, but with Lady Bones…it was like a co-sign to tell the light-sided Houses that the event was okay to attend.
"You should have asked me!"
"So you could worry about it for a month?" Harry countered.
"It's in a few days and I don't have a speech—"
"You know it here." He put a finger to her chest. "In your heart. At the veil, you thought you were stepping into oblivion and you were still telling me about the power of institutions."
She scowled. "We're meant to be a team, Harry."
"And this is me showing you that I'm all in. This is it — the timeline will change. The next Minister has got red hair — damn, we could get Bagnold to call for an early election with enough pressure."
Amelia considered him for a long moment. "I thought you were just playing high society to get laid."
"Told you, sweetheart, I'm waiting on you."
She toyed her hair into curls with one finger, but he could tell that she'd bitten.
"My bosses will be furious." She murmured.
"But unable to fire you now the press are looking at you."
"They'll say I'm trying to jump the line."
"They'll be right — but you'll be on a career fast-track. One of the big departments will pick you up, thinking it'll be better to keep you close than make you an enemy."
Amelia smirked, running a finger around the rim of her coffee cup. "They'll be wrong."
"That's my girl."
She licked her lips and leaned forward, idly pulling at her lapel to grow her cleavage. Under the table, her stocking-clad feet slid up his leg to his crotch. "No, not yet. But this is a big step."
Her toes curled around his stiffening shaft. Her smirk grew.
"Thank you, Harry."
###
Daphne hummed to herself as she took her new parcel back to the Common Room. Another delivery of lingerie and lacy underwear, the finest she could buy. It was important that she was dressed as the expensive woman she was.
Darling Harry wouldn't want her in cheap things either. He enjoyed seeing her glamorous and made up and artfully dressed in fine things of lace and satin and thrills, even if his appreciation only lasted a few seconds before he tore them off.
He was going to be an expensive husband, she thought fondly. But she would be an expensive wife, too — Harry had grown up poor, so he didn't understand the importance in the finer things of life. How wealth reflected status, how status affected the way people treat you.
Harry had to be treated like the world-changing man he was, which meant she needed to decorate him in riches. That started with a wife in fine lingerie and jewelry, but that was only the beginning.
A rich Lord needed a vast home, part ownership of a Quidditch team, an investment team, an assistant. A menagerie of exotic creatures for guests to goggle at, perhaps — Lord Selywn had a caged Lethifold, it was said.
A library, a private art gallery, a storeroom for artifacts, of course. Daphne hummed. She had so much to do and so little time. All the planning for their future and their wedding was tiring — she'd even slept through the last DA meeting.
Harry hadn't come to her for some time — he was probably still cross with her about the newspaper headline. But it had done the job — he was no longer mooning over silly Susan, the girl with rapidly declining prospects, becoming Lady Potter?
No. Perhaps she had written the letter to Rita on impulse. She could admit a little jealousy, perhaps, when Susan walked around with that stupid grin, arm hooked through Harry's elbow. When she needed to get up the Astronomy Tower and Harry had picked her up and carried her.
Daphne only got carried against the wall, to be impaled on Harry's cock, skewered balls-deep in her asshole.
Just a little jealousy, she admitted.
But she had no regrets. She wouldn't apologize for protecting him — this was how she showed her love.
Harry hadn't even punished her, so he couldn't have been that cross. The other girls were planning something — they'd been acting strange. Hannah had smirked at her this morning when she walked in late to breakfast and Hermione had asked if she slept well. Daphne wasn't concerned with those non-entities. Only Harry mattered.
Into the Common Room. Pansy glared. The Carrow twins nodded. Flint grunted.
They knew where the power was, at least for now.
She skipped up the stairs.
Maybe I should try my lingerie on now?
Harry could visit tonight after all — maybe he'd be more loving this time, if he'd forgiven her. First, she needed a shower and some alone time — buying things for Harry always worked her up.
Daphne froze as she entered her bedroom.
"Tracey!"
The auburn-haired gave her a wan smile. She looked terrible, thin and gaunt, circles under her eyes.
"Hi, Daphne."
"Oh, Tracey." Daphne embraced her tightly. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
The girl said nothing, stiff, frozen. Daphne knew only a little of what her family did for re-education, but she knew it wasn't fun.
She tugged her friend down to her bed, sweeping her hair behind her ear. "Say something, Trace."
Her best friend looked down at their joined hands. "…I don't have anything to say. I…" She choked. "I can't feel anything."
This was part of the re-education process. Father had warned her — the long sleepless nights, the potions, the pain. It left hollow shells.
"Are you angry?" She asked hesitantly.
Tracey shook her head a little.
"Resentful?"
No.
"Relieved it's over?"
A shrug.
Daphne pursed her lips. Tracey had been many things, but always chatty, always extroverted. Even when they first met, the girl had been so hard-headed, unbothered by Daphne's cold exterior.
She slung an arm around her friend and tugged her onto her back.
Tracey just stared up at the ceiling blankly.
Daphne sighed — this was going to be harder than she thought but he wasn't going to give up on her oldest friend.
"I never wanted this to happen." She said, caressing Tracey's cheek. A shiver, a sign of life. "But I chose to save your life and I'd do it again because I love you." Daphne said earnestly.
Tracey flinched — Daphne knew why — she had rarely ever used the love word, but she'd grown more comfortable with it, mostly because her feelings for Harry couldn't be denied. Waking up yearning for him, smelling the pillow he'd laid on, brushing past him in the Hall just to catch his scent.
Daphne trailed a finger down her friend's neck, watching her breath catch. "Life is going to be good from now on, okay? It's going to be perfect. I'm going to be the new Lady Black and you're coming with me." She said firmly.
"All the dresses, the jewelry, the riches, the parties. We share everything, like always." Daphne said seductively, pressing a kiss to Tracey's neck, her fingers slipping under her blouse and tracing a circle around her belly-button.
Tracey said nothing.
"This weekend, you'll help me pick out a wedding dress." Daphne ordered, her tone brooking no argument. "We'll get mulled wine and feed you back up."
This had always been their friendship — Daphne was the golden girl, shopping, eating, getting manicures, dragging Tracey along for the ride.
Tracey was a giver at heart — she picked out Daphne's clothes, combed her hair, painted her toenails…and in bed, ate her out until her jaw hurt.
Daphne loved her because Tracey gave and Daphne loved to take, laying there like a fish while her friend made her squirt.
Now Tracey was the one playing the fish…
A tightening of the jaw as Daphne flipped up her skirt. A flaring of the nostrils as Daphne traced the outline of her pussy over her plain white panties.
Daphne smirked as her warm breath in her ear made Tracey shiver.
"I missed you sooo much." She murmured. Her hands delved into her friend's panties, slow and gentle. "Our fun times, rubbing against each other, those lazy Sunday mornings…that toy."
Tracey swallowed. Daphne licked her fingers slowly, theatrically, and entered Tracey's folds. The Slytherin girl didn't resist when Daphne parted her thighs.
When she added another finger.
When she curled her fingers.
When she pumped her.
When Tracey's honey flooded out, Daphne could have flown a victory lap without a broom. Not at the sight of her glistening fingers, but at the tears that spilled over Tracey's red cheeks.
Feeling. Emotion.
Her tears turned to sobs.
"It's okay." Daphne soothed as she was suddenly holding the wailing girl.
"I don't know who I am! I don't know w-what to do!" She trembled, her voice cracking.
"I do." Daphne said firmly. She knew the path because she walked it — Harry had shown her purpose. Love. He'd tugged her unwillingly to happiness, because she was too stubborn or too stupid to see it.
Daphne would show Tracey the path. She pointed her legs into the air and wiggled her panties off.
"W-what are you doing?"
Daphne said nothing, simply clambering over Tracey's face and sitting down, her thighs clamping shut over her ears.
The auburn-haired beauty squealed, kicking her ankles, but the noise was muffled.
Daphne scowled, roughly taking hold of Tracey's hair. "Don't pretend you don't enjoy this — I know you always have."
"Mmmf!"
"Yes!" Daphne threw her head up in the air and sighed in satisfaction, just from the feeling of Tracy's warm breath on her pussy. She was already wet from thinking of Harry, from the constant jolting juddering plug in her bottom.
"That's it, lover." She tucked a strand of her platinum blonde hair behind her ear. "Take a deep breath. You missed it, didn't you?" She rolled her hips in circles. "That wet, juicy pussy, every night."
Tracey gurgled, her breath rapid, but Daphne could feel her chest rise and fall as she took a heavy breath.
"That's right." Daphne said soothingly. "I haven't showered this morning but you like that, don't you?"
Harry's words echoed in her mind. She'd been secretly proud of him for sodomising her with Hermione and Hannah. Secretly, she'd been proud of him — he needed to let the monster out of him, to survive the coming war. Only she could release that side of him.
But her even greater secret was how much she adored the other side of him — at the end of the night, he'd swept her hair from her eyes, kissed her forehead and murmured affectionately to her. "You're so happy when you're broken, Daphne. Like all the pretense just falls away."
She stared at him with blank eyes, her brain fucked away, but she thought of that moment often.
It was what Tracy needed too. To have the pretense stripped away. The facade that they needed as Slytherin girls, the guise of power and security.
Daphne felt herself flow into her friend's mouth, reaching down between her thighs to spread her pink folds. Tracy submitted in slow, reluctant steps — first, the deep sniff she took, breathing in Daphne's aroused musk.
Daphne giggled. "My bestie's always loved the scent of pussy, hasn't she?" She wiggled her cunt on Tracy's face, smearing her glistening juices from forehead to chin.
"Fuck," She shivered at the feeling of power, stroking Tracy's hair as she struggled beneath her thighs.
I'd forgotten what it's like to be in charge.
To be the queen of her own domain, knowing that when the King came, she'd be reduced to just another creaming whore — she squirmed her thighs even tighter. That thought was so fucking hot.
Harry would spank her, ruin her, wipe his cum on her hair and then pat her ass and call her a—
"Good girl." Daphne told her friend authoritatively. "You want to be a good girl, don't you? Get your nose in there."
Daphne snapped her thighs closed and felt herself tremble in the rhythm of Tracy's breathes. She snatched an even tighter of grip of that auburn hair and rocked herself roughly against that sharp nose, that warm nose, the only angle she could grind against.
Tracy groaned.
Daphne smirked. "My darling Harry might be right, you know — he says you're just a desperate rug muncher."
Tracy flinched at the reminder of Harry but there was no escaping Daphne's firm grasp as she was ridden from bottom to top — from the little wispy thatch of blonde hairs above her pussy all the way to the token of what separated them, her emerald plug.
Daphne sat up a little so Tracy could see what she hungered for — Daphne's slick pink folds, dripping, sopping, the scent of musky pussy thick in the air, on her tongue. And, the blonde girl's trademark eyes, the beautiful blue of glinting arrogance.
The first time Tracy had seen her, she'd known she had to befriend the girl. Daphne was the beauty of beauties, the pureblood ideal — she'd be popular, she'd be somebody. Tracy just had to be there.
The real friendship had come after the ingratiation and Daphne had always made her work for her position. Daphne always took but she'd made Tracy realize she loved to give.
And what Daphne took, she gave back.
Sure, she carried Daphne's books — but when Malfoy split Tracy's bag with a Severing Charm, it was Daphne who shrank his underwear until the boy screamed.
Yes, she did Daphne's homework at times, but when Tracy was struggling with Potions, it was Daphne who'd hired a private tutor for them during the summer. She'd told her father she needed remedial lessons, but Tracy knew she'd been lying.
When they'd grown up enough to start experimenting, of course it was Tracy who spent the most amount of time tonguing the honey from Daphne's hot little pot. Still, her friend was so maddeningly perfect that it felt like blessing an angel. Daphne bought her pretty lingerie and toys to make up for it.
Tracy stared eagerly at the blood swelling through that perfect pink pussy. Even with Harry in the picture, even though Daphne had betrayed her (or had she saved her life, she wondered), this was where she belonged.
Daphne's tongue was talented too — for cruelty rather than pleasure.
"You've missed it, haven't you? Slobbering like a dog into my warm, wet cunt. You're panting just from my smell and I can tell you're wet, slut."
Tracy felt her face flush red — she was wet, her nipples hard, her nostrils flared. It was the smell of Daphne that always did her in — that smell of hot wet pussy, the drip. But she'd never seen her like this, so sopping.
Daphne read her thoughts, as always. "This is how he likes me, what he's done to me. I'm always wet and ready for him. It used to take you ages to get me like this, but I'm like this just thinking about him."
Tracy clenched her fists — she didn't want to think about Potter. But when she opened her mouth to say something nasty, Daphne sat down firmly on her face.
With a face full of pussy, she couldn't be angry. She couldn't resist. Tracy buried her face in Daphne's sodden folds excitedly, her tongue working away.
Daphne's soft thighs had clamped tightly over her ears, so her hearing was muffled. Tracy didn't need to hear or see — she had all the senses she needed. The taste of her friend's sweet pussy, the rocking of Daphne's hips, the shocking river of juice — just when had Daphne become so wet, so sensitive?
"Such a good rug muncher." Daphne crooned, her grip in Tracy's hair painfully tight. "You love eating my pussy, don't you?"
Tracy shivered — she was always so fucking ashamed at her reaction to Daphne's praise.
I want more. She dug her nose into Daphne's glorious wet pink cotton candy folds, to suck and lick and lap at her pussy, at her engorged clit, at anything she could, like a hungry kitten.
Daphne's cruelty dissipated as the pleasure increased, and soon Tracy could only hold on as the blonde girl rocked desperately over her face, riding her rabid tongue.
Tracy heard a yearning begging moue and realized it came from her own throat.
"I'm gonna cum—" Daphne cried. Tracy couldn't even breathe as her friend twitched and spasmed above her, flooding her, drowning her in Daphne-dew. She ground frantically, bucking, spraying.
Tracy glowed, her imagination working overtime.
She was naked under the sun.
She was submerged in her lover's river.
She was reforged.
Born anew.
She nuzzled Daphne's mound lovingly, let her inch of her face be bathed.
"Mmm," Daphne purred. "I missed you, my Tracy."
Tracy felt her cheeks grow even wetter — with tears, this time. "I-I missed you too." She choked.
Daphne unmounted her face and admired her with a smirk. Tracy knew what she must look like — as if the Giant Squid had grabbed her and dunked her under the lake.
Tracy glared up defiantly. "This is evidence you missed me more, you know." She said, wiping her wet lips.
Daphne sighed with satisfaction. "I'm so wet like that always, now. Three spare panties in my bag at all times. I have changed. He's changed me."
"I…it'll take me time. To understand why you did it, allowed it." She admitted. "I still don't get it."
"You will," said Daphne confidently. "Now, come, let me show what else is new."
Tracy watched, entranced, as her friend slunk gracefully onto her pillow, her face down, her golden blonde hair splayed like a halo around her. She arched her ass up and slowly, teasingly, inched her skirt over her naked behind. The peach of an ass, milky and soft and Tracy's obsession.
And now, gleaming with a jewel, embedded in her rosebud.
Daphne glanced behind her and brought the hesitant Tracy beside her, until they were face to face, lying on their front, stealing each other's intimate breaths.
"W-what are you doing?" Tracy asked gingerly.
"Sssh," Daphne said silkily. "I'll always take care of you, you know that. Don't you?"
Tracy nodded, hypnotized by those blue eyes. She watched those eyes, mesmerized, as they fluttered when Daphne reached behind her, as they winced as she withdrew her plug, and as they sparkled when the warm-and-cold tip caressed Tracy's own bottom.
Tracy flinched when she felt it slide up her wet pussy folds and touch her own asshole.
"Come on, Trace." Daphne said, her breath washing over her face. "I told you. We share everything."
###
Even the gargoyle seemed to be judging her, Tonks thought — a certain knowing look in its ugly stone eyes as it swung aside.
Don't be silly.
The circular moving staircase seemed even steeper than it usually did. Tonks took a single step and winced. Everything ached. Everything was a reminder of what she'd been through.
The pain…and the pleasure too. She swallowed, red-faced.
"Get a grip, Tonksie." She murmured, taking another shuddering step. But each step was a reminder of where she'd been that night, sparking the flash of images and memories.
Twisted into a ball as Narcissa roughly jammed her fingers into her pussy until she was squirting juices into her own mouth, her cheeks burning as her own gushing cum sprayed over her face.
The girl Helena, the cousin she'd never even met, grinding her juicy pussy over her face, her fingers in Tonks' hair, rocking and rutting her musky cunt over her nose, her lips, her chin…and Tonks' surrender, extending her tongue, lapping, licking…swallowing the flood of cum.
And worst of all, getting ass-fucked by her aunt. The stunning blonde in black high heels, stroking a huge pink plastic dildo. Spreading her open, disappearing inside her, until Tonks felt the soft leather of her harness against her, until the dildo was pressed against Narcissa's clit.
The unbelievable unimaginable response of her body, quivering, toes curling, blood rushing. And the result — the humiliation as the girls laughter. "She really is an anal slut." Helena giggled. "I didn't believe Hermione at first!"
Narcissa's discovery of her own pleasure she could receive from the dildo on her clit only made her thrusts harder. That had given Tonks a discovery of her own — her Aunt was obscenely sexy. A curvy, stacked full figure with jaw-droppingly huge creamy tits, wide hips, hips that rolled enticingly as she fucked Tonks, grinding against her ass.
"Mother is beautiful, isn't she?" Helena murmured, face to face, cheek to cheek, holding Tonks still and stroking her sweaty hair as her little virgin asshole was reamed to the sound of Narcissa's ragged moans, thrusting with rough strokes. Tonks had cum like a bucking bronco, assisted by an electric contraption attached to her clit and her nipples.
The two Malfoys had giggled at her, wiping her orgasmic squirt on her face.
Tonks had gasped for breath, the sensations so foreign, the pain and the pleasure mixing together until she couldn't tell one from the other. And that had only been the beginning — Tonks' pleasure seemed to irritate the women, made them rougher, harsher. Wax dripped onto her pussy, chains clapped onto her nipples, toys shoved in her every hole.
Helena gently and nervously thwacked her inflamed dripping cunt with a flogger while her mother, much less gentle, spanked her ass with a paddle as she swayed, suspended by the cage.
"Fuck." Tonks held a hand against the stone stairwell, gasping for breath.
When she'd finally escaped back to Hogwarts and morphed out of Daphne's form, she'd thought that maybe she'd feel like herself again. But she still felt changed — like there was a Tonks before that night and a Tonks after, and never could the two be merged together.
Even through everything, she'd felt the most dread when Harry entered the dungeon. It was over then, she was sure — he'd take her, claim her, make her into one of these fanatic adoring slaves. The worst thing was that she'd been so mindfucked, so desperate for touch and cock and pleasure, that she half-wanted it.
It was the Malfoy girls had demanded. "Never disobey him." Helena said sternly as she made her gag on the toy that had just been in her bottom.
"We show Harry love through obedience and submission, not just passion." Narcissa said, dribbling wax onto Tonks' nipple.
Helena had kissed her cheek and whispered into her ear at one point. "I can't wait until you can be a good girl for him, just like me. One big happy family." She shivered.
It had almost made Tonks want to join their crazy cult. They looked so happy, so free, so glowing.
Tonks shook her head. Harry was a monster, a Dark Lord in bloom — making people want his rule was part of his mysterious powers. But it ended here, thanks to her. She'd struggled, she'd suffered, and she may never be the same, but, as she reached the top of the staircase, she knew it was mission complete.
Harry's game was up. Dumbledore would know everything.
"Ah, Nymphadora." The Headmaster's eyes lost their twinkle as he took in the sight of her. "Goodness, are you quite alright?"
Tonks grimaced as she reached for the chair and slowly sank into it. Her bottom may never be the same — Metamorphmagusing hadn't been able to erase the aches of her pounded asshole or her pussy, which had been smacked, fingered, paddled and clamped by toy after toy.
"I'm okay, Professor." She swallowed. "I've done it. I know how Harry's getting his power."
Dumbledore looked grave as he took off his glasses and clasped his hands together. "Tell me, please."
"H-he," Her voice shook. "He takes girls. Women…women are the source of his power."
The old man furrowed his brow. "I don't understand, forgive me."
Tonks swallowed the lump in her throat. For a millisecond, she was back in that dungeon, gurgling and choking around Helena's strapon as the girl giggled. "I've never done this before." The petite blonde admitted. "But I can understand why Harry likes it when there's so much, well, dribble."
Tonks pinched her palm.
Focus.
"He claims women and w-when he—" Could she say this word in front of the Headmaster? "Fucks them." She said, avoiding his eyes. "He bonds them, somehow, and he become stronger. It's like a Dark Mark, only—" Tonks cut off. She couldn't say it.
Only done with his dick.
The look on Dumbledore's face was more terrible than Tonks had ever seen, could ever imagine. No smile, no twinkle. He was the man that had defeated Grindelwald, the man of legend. Now she saw why her mother had always said to be careful of him.
"You know this for a fact? There can be no misunderstanding?" He said quietly.
"He said it to me." Tonks said seriously. "He admitted it to me when I took the Greengrass girl's shape. He told me to focus on helping him get more girls."
Dumbledore covered his mouth with his hands, solemn, silent. Tonks trembled, feeling the gravity of the moment. For all that she'd been through, for how changed she would forever be, it was worth it — she had succeeded. Harry Potter was revealed. She had changed the world.
"Nymphadora," He said finally, his voice so low that she had to lean forward to hear him. "You have done brilliantly. I am forever grateful."
Her face reddened, the colors of her going red too. "T-thank you Professor. What will you do? Should we tell the press or the Aurors or, or—"
He held out a hand. "I will beg your forgiveness for this terrible breach of manners and kindness and all things proper, but I must know." He winced. "Are you still yourself? Did you engage with him sexually?"
"No, no—" She said hurriedly. "I know you said, I mean, you didn't say, but you thought I might need to, but I didn't." She felt a touch of pride. "I didn't have sex with him."
Dumbledore exhaled a heavy sigh. "I am very glad to hear that, my girl."
"I had…encounters with his bonded." Tonks fidgeted, looking down at her lap. "Professor, they're every bit as fanatic as the Death Eaters! Devoted and mad and very," Her chest tightened. "Submissive."
"I see." Dumbledore stood and walked to his window, staring out at the grounds. Fawkes chirped sadly.
"We have to stop him, Professor. I mean, I know Narcissa Malfoy wasn't exactly the kindest soul but what's he done to her — she's obsessed with him! It's like a permanent Imperius."
"This is extremely troubling." The Headmaster agreed. He turned and gazed at her with piercing eyes. "Nymphadora, I must ask your help once again."
She straightened her skirt, nodding rapidly. "O-of course. Missions, espionage, action, I'm your girl." She held her shoulders high. Dumbledore's most trusted.
"I need to know more about his methods—"
"But I've already told you—"
"Precise methods. Direct evidence I can take to the press, not in Britain but internationally. Evidence I can take to law enforcement, not to simply build a case but to create an avalanche that no supporter of his, no ally, can deny it. That the name Harry Potter never again gets spoken in polite society."
Tonks' mouth flapped wordlessly. She thought she'd given him what he needed. "B-but we can use Veritaserum, we can interrogate his women—"
"He is Lord Potter, do not forget." Dumbledore said grimly. "We cannot accuse him, interrogate him or give him Veritaserum without tremendous, unignorable, evidence. The direct testimony of an Auror, the exact incantation and ritual he used, your Pensieve memory."
The anchor that was her stomach sank, and it was like the iron metal of the anchor corroded, sending nauseous pangs to her throat. "You want me to have sex with him? But he'll make me like his…his sluts!" Tonks cried, feeling hysteria rise up in her, imagining herself back in the sex dungeon.
"No." Dumbledore said firmly. "Not if I place you under a spell I devised long ago, when Severus Snape himself needed protection from a similar torment, a similar control. It will seal your mind and soul in an unbreakable shield."
Tonks trembled. She couldn't believe what he was asking of her. "It…it will work?" She said quietly.
"It will. I have no doubt."
"There's no other way?"
Dumbledore's eyes glistened. "I wish to every star above that there was, my dear girl. But he is more popular than I and has ties to the papers, so my word will not carry any weight. He is more valuable to the Ministry than I, so my influence will not sway Rufus. I fear that, if we don't do this now, we may never stop his march to power."
She stared distantly at her knuckles on her knees, watched as they went white. What scared her the most was how much she knew she'd enjoy it. Taking his fat cock deep inside her, getting rutted, his breath on her face.
She gripped her hand to stop its tremors. Maybe this was for the best — a way to get Harry out of her system without fear of his terrible magic spell.
"Do it." She whispered.
Dumbledore stood beside her chair as she curled up into a ball, hugging her knees. He murmured something under his breath and she was covered in a bright light, a white as pure as a unicorn.
She could feel the warmth tremble across her skin, feel her heart return to a steady beat. Despite herself, she smiled. It was like being cocooned in a mother's womb, she imagined.
Tonks stood, feeling more herself. Steady feet. A clear head. "I'll be back with what we need. He's going down." She swore.
The Headmaster bowed his head. "A greater sacrifice, I will never know, nor a woman of such bravery."
She snorted as she grabbed the doorknob. "You can say that again to my boss — I need the promotion." She paused, thinking of something. "And please, Professor, make sure it's a bloody closed trial." She didn't want her Pensieve memory of getting dicked down by Harry's horse cock to be shown to everyone in the Wizarding World.
"I will." He promised.
The Headmaster's office was quiet for a long time, until the sound of Tonks' footsteps had long since disappeared and the gargoyle had swung back into place.
It was the voice of a painting that broke the silence. Phineas Black, the only painting that Albus allowed to talk, because he was clever and shrewd, if never kind.
"That, Dumbledore, was the most terrible thing I have seen you do, in all my years."
The Headmaster watched the children play by the lake, far below his window. Little Dennis Creevey was trying to get the Giant Squid to raise him up so he could take a picture of the castle.
It was those children that he did this for.
"I understand, Phineas." Albus said gently. Everyone always needed things explained to them, he thought. "But the prophecy is clear. Harry is the one who must defeat Voldemort. To be the victor in that fight, he must be powerful." He took a Liquorice Wand from his jar on the windowsill and sucked it into his mouth.
It did not replace the bitter taste on his tongue. "I do not approve nor condone his methods of gaining power. Indeed, I find it abhorrent in every way." He said, before turning to meet the painting's gaze. "But Nymphadora Tonks is not the first I've sacrificed to the greater good and nor, I suspect, the last."
Phineas scowled. "You wanted this to happen — I saw the look on your face when she said she hadn't rolled in his bedsheets. Her mother may have married a bloody Muggle, but she's still a Black, you know!"
Albus smiled as Fawkes chirped under the soft strokes of his feather. His oldest companion, ever devoted. The only one that understood the true cost of good and the sacrifices that must be made in pursuit of it.
He had suspected, even if he hadn't known for sure. Harry was a charming boy but not so charming to attain the affection of women like Narcissa Malfoy. Hermione Granger wasn't the type to doodle hearts in her essays and Hannah Abbott wasn't the type to delve into the Restricted Section.
But it had been the prophecy which made him suspect and the prophecy that made him send Tonks into Harry's arms.
He will have power the Dark Lord knows not.
The only power the Dark Lord could not fathom, could not understand, was love. His upbringing rendered him simply unable.
Love was a power beyond reckoning. Lily Potter loved and her love stopped a Killing Curse and killed a Dark Lord.
Albus bit down on the liquorice wand thoughtfully. What could a thousand Lily Potter's do?
What would Nymphadora Tonks' love achieve?
He realized that he hadn't replied to Phineas. "Nymphadora is a Black too, Phineas. What better match than a Potter?"
"You know very well, Dumbledore, that she's not exactly going there for marriage."
Albus thought of his own life, his own loves. "Love comes in many forms."
Phineas scoffed. "What spell did you even use?"
"Nothing nefarious." Albus promised, opening the sweet jar on his desk. "A Lumos." He popped a lemon drop into his mouth and closed his eyes in satisfaction, his worries melting away. "And the same thing that's in these drops — a little something to calm the nerves."
Phineas glowered from his frame. "Terrible, Dumbledore. That poor girl."
Albus chewed his lemon drop. Phineas was wrong. Sending Tonks to Harry's waiting arms? One of the most terrible things he'd ever done?
It wasn't even close.
Oh shit - Dumbledore's a cold ass pimp. Next week, next Friday, next chapter - Harry and Bellatrix begin their Symposium, but things go awry. Plus, Voldie's got serious plans.
Want to read a few chaps ahead for Harry's adventures with Bellatrix, see art of Bella at Christmas time, and read a few chaps ahead, along with exclusive salacious artwork of Fleur, Hermione, Daphne and more from this story, as well as fun little sexy story scenes? Check my Linktree below.
Free no strings art on my X right now, link in Linktree. Fleur as a French maid, Helena and Cissy in lingerie together and Daphne in a teddy - don't miss it. Just a taste of the many more elsewhere.