Chapter Seventy One
While it still creeped him out, Harry guiltily delighted in Bellatrix's fanaticism. All of his girls loved him enough to submit to his desires, but the bond went two ways — which meant he loved them too much to subject them to most of his depraved desires.
But Bellatrix? She was vicious and cruel, a woman who deserved — would deserve — a rougher touch. It made it easier that she thrilled at his cruelty. The more strength he showed with her, the greater she groveled.
The Whorecrux, the bond, or the effects of both — he had unhinged her. Had he created the monster that would become Tom's right hand woman? He didn't know…and so he took his frustration out on her.
Or so he liked to pretend. In the back of his mind, he knew the reason he was so rough with her was to show her his strength, his dominance. The woman that had wavered for so long between him and Voldemort — he wanted to prove to her that he was mightier. And to punish her for her indecision.
He swept her legs out from under her and then forced his cock down her throat — she offered her long sleek black hair up for him to hold. When she gagged, her eyes bulged with joy. When tears ran down her cheeks, she used her fingers to push them onto his shaft as he tried to cram even more of it into her oval-distended mouth.
He filled her throat, her stomach, and he saw that, even in her madness, she still held a certain kind of innocence, a reminder that she was Black and not Lestrange. She caressed her inflated tummy in wonder, like an imminent mother. When he kissed her, cupped her cheek softly, brushed his nose against her, she cried a lover's tear.
"I never knew it could be like this." She said, her face glowing, like a teenager in their first love.
He smiled — her sister had once said something very similar, at the beginning. How far he'd come. "Isn't it wonderful?" He murmured. When he kissed her again, she tugged at his lip with her teeth as he treated, moaning as he withdrew.
She covered him with her body, painted him with eager kisses, her slick thighs marking him. The small black lightning bolt on her pelvis dissipated into her skin, invisible — he had marked her too.
Bellatrix gasped, if only to exhale the depth of emotion she felt. Every feeling she'd had before this was neutered, distant — now, it felt like her heart would explode.
"I've been living half a life." She whispered, tracing his cheekbones.
Harry stared into her eyes. Violet hues and violent promises. He could feel the throbbing of her magic. She was more powerful than all of his witches, even this young. No wonder Tom had wanted to recruit her so badly.
What could he achieve with her power? Fantasies of domination…he shook himself. That was the worst thing about Amelia's offer — to save Lily and receive Amelia in kind. It was tempting.
He could create a new world, a new timeline — with Voldemort's right hand at his side, he could pick off the Dark Lord's Inner Circle, save his parents. Hell, he could create a harem of all the MILFs whose husband's couldn't satisfy them.
But no matter how tempting that was, he couldn't leave his lovers of the future, couldn't endanger them in that way.
He kissed Bellatrix if only to ensure she closed her eyes — with her eyes shut, she looked innocent and not like the mad servant he'd created.
She's a means to an end, Harry. He told himself. The Whorecrux magic would let him play in this sandpit, but he couldn't forget that they were just a key to a lock in the future. A Bellatrix that loved him, ready to stab Tom in the back when the time was right, when he least expected it.
But he still felt the tug in his heart when she whimpered when he broke the kiss.
You're weak, Harry.
In his mind, the voice of Tom agreed.
###
"For the last time, Dora, I don't know where Harry is!" Ron snapped. "I'm not his babysitter!"
"I was just asking!" The girl griped, playing with the hem of her short skirt.
Daphne slowed her walk into the Great Hall, eying the beautiful girl in suspicion. Dora Tomkins, the clumsy transfer student who looked like a model, had made her suspicious even before Daphne had been bonded and been made aware that Dora was Nymphadora Tonks, Metamorphmagus Auror.
Harry had said that Tonks was his assigned Ministry protection, an Auror he'd requested in the hopes of bedding her and getting a Ministry 'in'. But the way Dora looked when Harry was away seemed anything but professional.
"Something's off with that one." Daphne whispered to Tracey as they settled on the Slytherin table. She had missed her confidante.
Tracey shrugged, exhaling as she dropped both their bags on the bench — Daphne was making her carry everything until some undetermined date of redemption. "She dresses slutty and she has her head on a swivel for Potter — isn't that half the girls in Hogwarts?"
That was true — the boys in second year had started carrying their satchels in front of their crotches, because of what that creep McLaggen had loudly dubbed the Great Sluttening of Hogwarts. The skirts were barely longer than a school ruler, the stockings sheer, whether blue, yellow, red or green, and often adorned with ribbons or stripes.
Some girls wore sparkling shiny black shoes with thick platform soles, like ankle boots, while the girls brave enough to weather McGonagall's wrath tottered around on high heels — with Filch dead, there was no one to complain about the little stiletto pockmarks on the Hogwarts stone.
Daphne had seen not one but three girls topple on their heels when Harry turned a corner on the way to Charms, flashing panties and biting glossy lips as Harry gallantly picked them up.
The competition was fierce and the trends fast. When Chang figured out that she could unbutton her blouse's bottom buttons to show off her slim midriff, the Patil twins had countered by Transfiguring their blouses into bodysuits, their hips bare as their blouse-bodysuit curved inwards under their skirt.
Daphne wasn't beyond it — even engaged and bonded, she still wanted to keep her man's attention. Today, she wore a green headband with an emerald jewel at the centre, just to remind Harry of the other jewel she wore — or had worn, before she'd plugged Tracey's ass. Just a loaner.
"Ugh, so embarrassing." Tracey sniffed as they watched Cho. The girl was an unashamed tease, standing up and leaning on her friends' shoulders to talk into their ears, glancing over her shoulder to see if Harry had entered the Hall every few moments. When Cho giggled into Marietta's ear, her skirt rose up so high that Daphne could practically see the whole curve of her under-cheek.
Pink thong. Daphne noted and pursed her lips. Little Dennis Creevey was practically standing on the bench, craning his neck to get a better look. "One day, they'll do a sociology study on the damage we're doing to these little perverts this year."
Tracey snorted as the Creevey boy slipped and went face-first into his cereal bowl. "Not much sympathy — his older brother creeps me out with that camera of his."
"Ugh, right?! You just know he's got a whole book of creepshots — he's always hanging around the staircases, looking up at the moving staircases."
Tracey scowled. "Waiting for us to go over the missing steps so he can get an underskirt. So gross."
Daphne hummed. "I wonder if I can get his book for Harry, if he really does have one."
"…Really?"
"What?" She defended with a blush. "I need to get him a wedding present."
Tracey swallowed and looked around carefully. "I thought you said I would be the wedding present." Her expression was pained — she hadn't been enthused about the idea, but she was resigned to following Daphne's orders.
"He won't want to wait that long for you, probably." Daphne pondered. "Has he seen you yet?"
"N-no," Her friend said nervously. "He's probably going to kill me when he does."
"He won't kill you."
Probably. Harry would want some revenge for what Tracey had tried to do to him. But she was pretty sure she could convince him, as long as Tracey was beautified and ready for him.
That was her job. She slipped her hand under the table as she spooned herself some cereal, finding Tracey's thigh.
"Do you like your new skirt?"
"It's very short." Tracey said, straight-backed and wary.
"That's how he likes it." She murmured, sliding her hand up her friend's soft flesh. Higher and higher, over the goosebumps that formed, until she felt the touch of satin.
"Do you like your new panties?" Daphne teased.
"…They feel good." Tracey admitted.
"And what do you say?"
Tracey swallowed. "Thank you for my new wardrobe, Daphne."
"Good girl." Daphne whispered, cupping her friend's mound. She slipped a finger down under the back, checking for the cold chill of the plug that Tracey was borrowing. That Daphne had made her borrow.
The auburn-haired girl flinched and squeezed her glass of pumpkin juice as Daphne twisted the plug mischievously. "W-why do you let him do these things to you?" Tracey dared glance at her, before staring resolutely forward.
Daphne scowled, drew her hand back and then sharply slapped Tracey's pussy, making the girl squeak. Marcus Flint looked at them from down the table, but he quickly looked away when Daphne met his eyes. "No disobedience, you." She said silkily. "You'll soon see — his power. His strength." She sighed at just the thought of him, missing his touch. "He's incredible."
Tracey gave her another of her disbelieving looks, but any fight in her was quelled by the defiance in Daphne's eyes. "I…as long as I'm with you, I can bear anything."
"Good girl." Daphne said happily, patting her friend's quim before returning to her breakfast. Tracey would bear anything — Daphne had made sure of it. The letters from her family had gone unreturned. No other girl would dare try make friends with Tracey, not with Daphne's reputation. It was for her own good — well, mostly Harry's, but Tracey would thank her too.
Lee Jordan whistled and held his hands up like a hostage as he approached the Slytherin table. "Lion approaching in peace!" He held open his school bag, revealing a strange glowing blue light. "Selling some stock from the Weasley's — jars of Bluebell flames to keep you warm until spring."
Flint sneered. "Any idiot can cast Cold Fire, Jordan."
"True." Lee said amiably. "But these are created with magic-drawing runes on the bottom of the jar, so they'll last for two months or your money back. The glass is unbreakable and…" He snapped his fingers and winked, pulling out a fur bag, shaped like a hot water bottle. "It comes inside these fluffy Puffskein fur bags, so you can use it to keep you warm during the night too."
Daphne felt Tracey bite her lip by her side. "How much?" The girl said.
"Fifteen sickles."
Tracey deflated. "But that's almost a Galleon!"
Lee shrugged. "I don't make the prices."
"We'll take two." Daphne decided firmly, flipping him two Galleons casually. "Keep the change."
Tracey glowed as she hugged her new furry heater to her chest. "Thank you, Daph." She said, blinking quickly.
Daphne shrugged. "I'll always take care of you, bestie — you know that." She gave her friend a shoulder-bump. "But I'll be relying on you to keep me warm in the nights, right?"
Tracey blushed. "Yes, Daphne."
She gave her old friend a soft smile. Yes, Tracey would be perfect for Harry. The other girls weren't wrong — Harry needed a larger harem for strength, for protection, but they had to be the right girls. Not weak and alone, like Susan. Not attached to a large foreign state, like Chang.
Tracey dropped her voice. "Are we still doing the thing?" She said.
Daphne nodded, her lips twisted. She adjusted her headband delicately and toyed with her long hair in her lap. "Chang can be an exotic bit of rough for him to play with, but I'm not letting her seduce Harry into a ring." She shot Tracey a hard look. "Are you up to this? It needs to be you."
Tracey gave her a pained smile. "I'm barely up to walking, Daph."
"You'll get used to it." She promised, touching her neck as she thought about the emptiness in her behind. She'd gotten used to that little reminder of her Harry. "I did."
###
Cho smiled to herself in the bathroom mirror. She looked good — pink lipstick, long eyelashes. Her hair was in a messy bun, held by a lotus pearl hairpin — it was important to remind Harry that she was different than all the other girls.
Exotic, oriental — she hated all the old Colonial ignorance that came with those terms, but…she had to use every advantage she could get and she was sure that Harry liked the idea of an exotic wife.
Especially, she thought with a satisfied sigh, a girl like her. Ravenclaw blue stockings with an 'accidental' tear in them. Black heels to make her ass stick out more, and a skirt that got shorter every time she wore it and didn't get a lecture from McGonagall. It hid everything — as long as she didn't reach for anything, stretch, pick up anything or sit down.
She pushed her bra up, making sure her tits were on display.
"Hmm," she considered herself.
"Are you want to show that much skin, dearie?" The mirror said.
Cho ignored it, and pulled her blouse aside — it was important to show a little lace of her red bra, just a hint. Red for House Potter.
Long confident strides out of the bathroom — the other girls were tottering, but Cho had years of practice. She looked good and she knew it. People liked her, because she worked at it — a smile for everyone she passed.
Except, on the way to lunch, she got a glower from a seventh-year girl.
"Don't you think you should cover up a bit, out of respect?" The girl hissed.
Cho was so shocked that she didn't muster a reply before the girl brushed past her.
With a chill growing down her spine, she stepped through the large double doors of the Hall.
She stopped short.
"No…" She breathed in horror. At the end of the hall, just before the High Table, was a huge portrait. A moving photo, framed in gold filigree, as large as Hagrid — a photo of her and Cedric. After the second task, after Cedric had pulled her out of the lake.
Cho watched in dismay as the photo-Cho looked up in admiration as the swimsuit clad Cedric shook all the water free from his body, before Cho placed a hand on his bare chest as they posed, his arm around her waist.
A crowd had formed around the painting, and as it dispersed, she could make out the large book on a pedestal and the banner that hung from it. Write your memories of Cedric in The Chang and Diggory Book Of Mourning. Ginny Weasley was writing a message.
"Oh, bravo, Cho." Professor Sprout stood and clapped as she walked in, before wiping a wet eye. "Merlin, do I miss that silly boy! I remember when he uprooted his first Mandrake!"
Cho walked forward as if in a stupor. This would ruin everything. All her hard work to paint Cedric as a gay cheat, to paint their relationship as exactly what it had been — close to nothing.
Her fingers dug in her palm as her head swivelled to find Daphne. Only she would have done this. But the blonde bitch wasn't there.
Her lackey was. Tracey Davis joined Sprout's applause loudly, standing up and gesturing others to join her. "It's so great that you're not forgetting him." She said earnestly.
Cho grimaced as students from each table stood and clapped. Her skirt suddenly felt awfully short, no matter how much she tugged on it. "Well, we were just friends, of course, but it was important to commemorate—"
"You don't need to hide your grief." Tracey interrupted. "Everyone knows you were true loves."
Ginny smiled sweetly from next to the book, where'd she drawn a big red heart. "Like Romeo and Juliet." She sighed, holding her chest.
From the High Table, Professor Dumbledore toasted her with a glass. "Not many would remember their first boyfriend but," He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I've always thought the first love can be the strongest."
Fucking kill me. Cho thought inwardly, even as she smiled. Even Dumbledore was joining in? It was like the world was conspiring to make sure she never got her cherry popped by Harry fucking Potter, never got the big mansion and the bottomless bank vault.
Tracey bounced up to her and gripped her arm tightly, a glint of amusement in her eye even as she raised Cho's arm like a winning boxer. "To the girl that never moved on — I hope, one day, in five or ten years, you can find another peace. Cedric would want that. To Cho Chang, everyone!"
Cho was popular — everyone clapped. With each clap, it felt like the screws of a chastity belt were hammered into place around her pussy.
Cho smiled weakly. "I mean, it's so shocking, what the papers have been saying—"
Sprout lost her smile. The applause stopped. Dumbledore's eyes grew cold.
She had no choice.
"—But that's why I thought it was so important to remind everyone who the real Cedric was. My friend."
The applause resumed. Sprout cheered.
Cho felt him before she saw him — Harry's magic, his aura. The panty-wetting warmth in the air, the sparks in her tummy.
Except today, instead of sparks, dread. She turned slowly to see him take the scene in.
Like every time Harry entered, the hall fell silent.
"Oh…how lovely." He said, for all the ears. "This is a beautiful idea, Cho — Hogwarts must never forget the tragic loss of one of its best and brightest." Harry shook his head sadly. "Forever and always — the real Hogwarts champion." With a swish of his wand, he summoned a glass into his hand and held it high. "Please join me, everyone. To Cedric Diggory, who embodied not just Hufflepuff's best values, but Hogwarts' too."
Everyone raised a glass but Cho, who stood awkwardly in the Hall's entrance, desperately seeking Harry's eyes.
If he could just see her eyes, she could transmit a message.
It was Daphne. It's the Slytherins. It's just a stone in the road, I'm still yours.
But he wouldn't meet her gaze.
Her stomach never felt heavier. And her ring finger never felt lighter.
###
After that uncomfortable beginning to their lunch, Harry settled at the Gryffindor table with a headache. He didn't need to investigate that little scene — that had Daphne written all over it. His hand was trembling with anger.
"You look so gorg!" Parvati exclaimed as Hermione settled in next to him. Harry took in his best friend — she was looking particularly stylish in a chunky cream knit sweater, a patterned miniskirt and grey tights, as well as black boots he'd never seen.
Hermione blushed at his raised eyebrow. "Traded for some of Fleur's outfits." She whispered.
"Traded what?"
She gave him a tender look of adoration. "Tips on what makes you tick."
"Oh?" Harry knew a little about his harem's secret trading economy, but all of his girls were very secretive — he'd only figured it out when Narcissa started doing a pussy-milking twist-and-squeeze that only Apolline had ever done.
He wasn't interested — not in that second. He gripped Hermione's wrist and leaned in close before whispering harshly. "I thought you girls said you were taking care of Daphne."
"We tried!" She protested. "Helena said she just loved it all. She said she was close to getting an umbrella, it got so…well, you know."
Harry grimaced. Even humiliation in front of practical strangers didn't put Daphne in line — it didn't make sense. With the girls making her cream herself, stuffed in every hole, pain mixing with pleasure, the knowledge that they all knew what a submissive slut she was — it should have kept her in check for at least a month.
I guess she really is just a shameless slut.
He had to think of something — he couldn't marry her if he couldn't control her.
He whispered into Hermione's ear. "Get all the girls together tonight. Everyone. We need to deal with her."
"Can you not at the table?" Ginny said witheringly.
Harry jumped before realizing she was speaking to Ron, whose tongue was down Lavender's throat.
The redheaded boy gave his sister a lazy grin. "Sorry, Gin." He held his hands behind his head. "It's not easy, when the ladies love what I can give."
"Ron!" Lavender squealed, but she seemed quite thrilled by his confidence, his arm around her shoulder, fingers toying with her earlobe.
"I don't know what's gotten into you." Ginny said darkly.
Seamus snorted. "Maybe it's what he's gotten into—ow!" Dean elbowed him hard.
"What does he mean, Ron?" Lavender said curiously.
Ron shrugged. "Dunno. I'm just in a good mood 'cos it's been a great week for me. I found Agrippa in my Chocolate Frog last night — now I'm only missing Ptolemy."
"Really, Ron?" Seamus wiggled his eyebrows. "Is that why you're in a good mood?"
"It only took five hundred cards and a few thousand Frogs." Ginny said sarcastically.
Ron nodded rapidly. "You guys just don't know. There's something powerful about owning a full set. I wouldn't be surprised if they do a piece on me in the Prophet."
Harry shook his head, keeping silent as the table descended into mockery and argument. His boys had been injected with a cocktail of confidence and triumph after their trip to the Veela Court — he was glad, at least, that they'd had some fun before he'd gotten his…wand snapped.
Even the thought made his core boil with anger, an itch that needed to be scratched. Somewhere out there, there was a Veela Princess who was going to have her asshole gaped without lube, cum pouring out of her nostrils and her cunt drilled harder than any drill Grunnings could make. Fuck, he'd slap her harder than the Malfoys had Dobby and give her less clothes too.
Cockstealing bitch doesn't know what she's in for.
"Harry," Hermione hissed. "You're hurting me."
He had his hand on her arm unknowingly. "Sorry." He shook himself from his rage.
That anger was why he hadn't been keen — wasn't keen — to properly punish Daphne. It meant letting out that side of him. Opening himself up to those memories of Voldemort's rampages, the many he'd murdered and tortured.
The box in his head was the kind that didn't shut when it was opened. With Daphne testing him, with Sofia unpunished, with Bellatrix stirring up fantasies of ruling over all, it felt like that box was shaking, like he was back in first year watching Wood about to open a wooden crate that was thumping side to side with angry Bludgers.
There was a whisper in his head and it wasn't from Tom or from Mei Chang. It was his own conscience telling him he should have been stronger. He should have punished the Veela immediately. He should have ripped Tracey in two for attempting to murder him. He should have squeezed Daphne's throat, taking away her oxygen and disobedience both.
The whisper was right, in a way. He should have been stronger, colder. But he worried…being colder once meant being colder all the time. The memories of Tom's life told him that there was some roads you couldn't walk back from.
"I think I need you tonight, love. After we deal with Daphne, I mean." Harry murmured to Hermione.
She blushed, bit her lip. "I am always yours. You know that. Is…is something wrong?"
Harry paused, closed his eyes. The Harry of the past had his arm wrapped around Bellatrix's throat as he pumped into her prone form as she lay flat on the bed, squeezing her neck with every brutal thrust. Bella spluttered saliva while her pussy sprayed her arousal.
"I just need to take things slow." He said meaningfully.
Hermione clasped his hand. "I'll wear something pretty for you."
"I'd like that."
Behind him, a throat cleared. Professor McGonagall, stern and disapproving as always.
Hermione checked her outfit out of reflex.
"Rest assured, Miss Granger, you are one of the few still dressed appropriately." McGonagall said primly, pushing her glasses up her nose.
"I…thank you, Professor."
"I wish I could say the same for the rest of you." The old Scottish broad sniffed, staring imperiously around the Gryffindor table. "Miss Bell, your Quidditch shorts are not appropriate for lunch time. Miss Patil, the school blouse is not to be Transfigured. Mister Weasley, please restrain yourself from consuming Miss Brown's face."
Ron rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.
"Uh, can I help, Professor?" Harry said.
"The Headmaster would like to see you after today's lessons, Mister Potter." She gave him a sniff and turned on her heels, before marching away.
Hermione's breath was warm in his ear. "Is my outfit still appropriate if I'm not wearing panties?" She teased.
Harry poked her in the side. "I'll have to discipline you later."
She fluttered her eyelashes. "Another game of the Professor and the extra-credit needing student."
"Professor Potter and the Nerdy Minx."
The beautiful girl hugged herself, looking eager. "I'll find a pair of glasses to wear." She promised.
Harry sat through the rest of the day's lessons, trying not to appear too bored. Hogwarts was a necessary evil — everyone knew the curriculum was too easy for him, so the teachers ignored him when he pulled out House letters instead of textbooks, when he wrote replies instead of essays.
Peter Greengrass was managing his funds admirably, building up a war-chest. But a war-chest was no good without anything to spend it on — he had to move faster.
Peter had sent expensive gifts to the giants, to the largest Vampire clans, to politicians in France and Germany — even funded a tiny Werewolf rights group in Spain. It wasn't enough.
He needed to go international. He needed the Veela — all of them. He needed India and China too, and today's show-stopping event meant Daphne needed a special punishment. But despite all of of his needs, he needed to stay in Hogwarts — the daughters of these families were still too valuable. More than that, Hogwarts as a symbol was too important — keeping it running, free of Zabini here and Malfoy there, was too important. If Hogwarts shut, Voldemort would pick them off in their isolation.
Still, he couldn't escape the feeling that the war was escaping him.
The feeling intensified when he arrived in Dumbledore's office and was promptly ushered into the fireplace. A flash of green flame later and Harry stood in Grimmauld Palace, in a dingy kitchen.
The kitchen table held more than a dozen cups of steaming tea, cups for all the men and women that stood around it. Harry recognized almost all of them — Mad-Eye Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Snape, a gaggle of Weasleys — even Sirius and Lupin were there.
He knew what this was before Dumbledore said it.
"Welcome, Harry, to our little gathering of like-minded individuals." The Headmaster said, with little grandiosity. "In the necessity of needing a name, and with more than a little pretension, we call ourselves the Order of the Phoenix."
"Harry, dear!" Molly embraced him tightly. "Oh, so skinny, are you eating enough at the castle?" She took hold of his cheek, peering into his eyes as if she could discern the truth from them.
Arthur gave a short sharp laugh. "Our Harry's too busy saving the day to eat, dear, as always."
"Perhaps," Snape drawled. "If we hasten, you can feed the boy dinner once I have departed — and spare me from expelling mine." He said, looking nauseated.
Harry spared him only a disdainful glance. Snape was another that had a painful end to come — he hadn't forgotten what he'd found in Tom's memories — how Snape had told Voldemort the prophecy that led to his parent's death.
When the time is right.
Snape was fortunate enough to have Dumbledore's favour — and Harry didn't think he could disappear Snape without the culprit being obvious.
When I have Bellatrix as my spy, you won't be needed anymore. He thought with satisfaction.
Harry hesitated as he met all the expectant gazes. "Happy to be here — but, uh—"
"Rest assured, Harry," Dumbledore interjected. "This is merely me fulfilling a promise — that I would do better in keeping you informed. You need not sign up for our ranks officially."
"You do get great discounts though — ten percent off the beer at The Hog's Head." Harry startled as he saw the speaker — Tonks in the corner, taller and more developed than the schoolgirl she was at Hogwarts, her hair red and then blue. "Wotcha, Harry." She winked at him.
Her presence confirmed a suspicion he'd had — he'd reckoned she had some sort of association with Dumbledore purely on the basis that the old man had barely put up a fight when Amelia had proposed inserting her at Hogwarts.
Molly shuddered. "Harry certainly won't be frequenting that establishment."
"I'm sure he won't, Molly." Albus interrupted the coming blow-up. "Now, please, ladies, gentlemen, your reports."
Harry was seated close to Dumbledore at the top of the table. Guest or not, he realized that the Order members were pleased to have him. They sat tall, frequently looking to him for his reaction.
Somehow, he'd become a key figure in the way.
Fighting Voldemort once or thrice will do that, I guess.
"The old man is desperate enough to use you as a cheerleader." Tom sneered in his head.
That was probably true, Harry thought — it was the sort of the thing Dumbledore would do. He'd be angry at the manipulations, if it wasn't for the fact that the Order had quite a few gorgeous women in its ranks.
There was a young black-haired woman with pink cheeks — pretty smile, with her hair in a short bob, fringed down to eyebrows, covering her ears — she looked like she'd been ripped out of a sixties' modeling magazine or the type of vintage Playboy that Uncle Vernon hid in the attic.
He'd never seen her before, but Ginny had teased Ron about a crush he'd had in the summer on a Hestia Jones.
There was another woman, older, with cheekbones that screamed good genes, dressed in stately robes. Her emerald green shawl said she was rich, but if she was from a notable House, Harry was sure he'd have recognized her. He only figured out her name when Dumbledore thanked her for her report and called her Emmeline.
While the Order made their reports, Harry examined them all. They too were reaching out to other beings like the giants, having little luck.
"Nobody wants to make a bet before the cards have been shown." Remus muttered.
There were reports of Muggle villages being massacred.
"Likely new recruits being tested…and trained." Snape said silkily.
Half-way through the meeting, a flash of green flames interrupted Lupin's report. A woman stepped through.
Harry felt his breath stolen away — Merlin, she was beautiful.
All sugar, he thought — hair like brown sugar, smile sweet, eyes wide and kind. Aristocratic features, with the straight-backed regal posture that only came from pureblood bearing.
"Sorry for being tardy." Even her voice was like sugar, her tone knowing and arch, like she knew that they knew she wasn't really sorry.
Harry's chair scraped against the floor as he stood up in alarm. His magic raced to his wand because she looked uncannily like another woman, her face so familiar.
A face similar to the face that, this very moment, the Harry of the past was glazing like a doughnut, aiming his cock like a firehose.
The woman did a double-take when she saw him, but she quickly held out a hand out and down, expecting to be kissed, a pureblood's arrogance.
The sparkle in her eye had no hint of arrogance though, and nor did her words. "Lord Potter — what an unexpected pleasure."
Harry kissed her hand, not taking his eyes off her. Why did she look so like Bellatrix? "I'm not sure I've had the pleasure, Miss—"
"No, though I've heard you're…intimately acquainted with these good looks." The woman said, tracing a circle around her face, her smile amused.
In the past, Bellatrix thanked him for his seed, chanting that she was not worthy. In this time, Harry flinched. How could she know that he'd bedded Bella?
The woman raised an eyebrow at his silence. "My younger sister, Narcissa?"
Harry felt like an idiot as realization hit him. "You're…Andromeda."
The other sister. The middle sister.
"Oh, you have heard of me." She fluffed her hair behind her shoulders and laughed richly. "I'm glad that you and Cissy do find some time for conversation."
He swallowed, his throat dry. All the memories and knowledge in the world couldn't help him here.
What do you say to the sister who's teasing you for keeping her little sis as a cock-draining Mistress?
He knew his face was red. It didn't help that the other Harry was slapping his limp cock on Andromeda's older sister's face, making sure he'd discharged every drop. "I'm sorry — I'm just a little stunned." He recovered. "Narcissa assured me that she was the most beautiful in the family."
Andromeda's eyes squinted, twinkled — she didn't look the sort to giggle. "Yes, I can see why she likes you. How is she?"
"Good. Better."
"I'm—"
"I'm sure she'd love to see you — I can set something up, maybe?"
She shrugged. "It's been a long time and we didn't leave it in a good place, but—"
"As touching as this is," Snape spat. "Perhaps we can return to the trifling matter of defeating the Dark Lord."
Harry glared but Andromeda just gave him a warm smile. "Of course, Severus." She said.
The meeting resumed. He barely heard a word of it, his gaze locked on beautiful Andromeda, the brunette who looked like so like Bellatrix in the face, but like Narcissa from the neck down. A statuesque hourglass.
The last of the Black sisters.
Ron's words echoed through his mind. There's something powerful about owning a full set.
Andromeda felt his eyes, met his, gave him a knowing smile, looked away without a blush.
He felt like a little boy.
She seemed like she lived in the clouds amongst a better class of people.
Unattainable.
But there was a certain confidence to having both of her sisters on the regular. He was no little boy with them.
All in good time.
After the meeting ended, the members dispersed. Andromeda vanished into the fire before he could say a word.
Harry jumped when he felt a heavy clap on his shoulders.
"Alright, kiddo? Don't let Andy freak you out — she's the spitting image of Bellatrix but the polar opposite, trust me." Sirius grinned. "About the only family of mine I like. No offense, Tonks."
"None taken." Tonks said dryly, leaning over Harry to put her mug down. Her breasts brushed his ear.
"Sorry, Harry, I would stay and catch-up, but Remus and me got a job for the Headmaster." Sirius thumbed his chest and gestured at Dumbledore, who was collecting his stack of papers.
"Remus and I," Lupin corrected.
"Yes, Remus, I and me." Sirius quipped.
"Anything dangerous?" Harry asked.
"Doubt it — just tracking the werewolves so Remus can seduce them with his wiles."
"A secret mission, Sirius." Remus rolled his eyes.
Sirius looked at him in bewilderment. "It's Harry."
"It's the principle of it — nevermind!" Remus dragged Sirius into the fireplace. "Next time, Harry."
"Plan the next boys trip, kidd-whoah!" The two men disappeared in a flash of green.
Harry was left with just Dumbledore and Tonks in the kitchen.
"Thank you for attending the meeting, my boy — forgive me for not giving you more notice."
"That's alright, Professor." Harry said, although he knew he would have been annoyed at Dumbledore's ploy if the kitchen hadn't contained such a bevy of beauties. He stood up to follow the Headmaster into the fireplace but almost walked into the old man's back when he stopped suddenly.
"Actually, my boy, while you're here — why don't you take the chance to explore the Black library?"
Harry hesitated. "The famously dark Black library?"
"Oh," Dumbledore waved him away. "I trust you to know the difference between right and wrong, my boy."
Harry shrugged. That was uncharacteristic of the old man, but it wasn't like he didn't want to see what interesting curses lay inside — even if it was unlikely that Tom didn't already know them. He still had some time before his meeting with the girls — and Daphne's punishment.
"Alright, yeah, why not? Hogwarts library doesn't hold much for me anymore."
Dumbledore peered over half-moon spectacles. "I have oft thought the saddest peril of knowledge is the restriction of further learning." He shook his head sadly. "The thrill of opening a book of mysterious new magic…it is long behind me. I hope you find something good, my boy. I'm looking forward to your report in the next meeting, Nymphadora." He saluted the silent woman and disappeared into the fireplace.
Harry was left with his oddly quiet bodyguard, who was staring at the flames. "I'll, uh, be in the library."
The Black library was dark and moody even after he'd swished his wand to light every candle on the two crystal chandeliers, barely illuminating the bookcases that lined each wall, from top to bottom.
Bellatrix might have turned out better if she grew up with a bit of sunlight. He thought idly.
That might have been Aunt Petunia talking. No matter how far he came, he couldn't abandon those childhood memories.
Open the curtains, put out the bins, fry up breakfast, water the plants, make the beds, do the laundry. She had installed a work ethic in him that Cissy was chipping away at — Harry no longer bathed himself, dressed himself, fed himself.
I'm like a lion in a zoo. He thought with a smirk. Just fuck, eat and sleep.
"I used to think I'd choose a good book over a good man." A voice interrupted him — a sugar rich voice. Andromeda, in the doorway, brushing her hair away from her collarbones in a robe that wrapped around her breasts like a bandage-dress.
Harry swallowed.
"Of course, now I know that a good man is much more rare, which makes them all the more valuable." She narrated as she swanned forward, sliding her hand over the mahogany tables in the centre of the room. She sniffed as her fingers picked up a little dust.
"I…I thought you'd gone."
Andromeda smiled. "When I saw your hungry gaze, I thought I might find a partner." She smiled at his expression. "For dinner, I mean?"
"Oh, sure, I can cook us something—"
She drew close, close enough that he could feel her breath on his face, could smell her sweet scent. Like a freshly baked cake. "First," she whispered, her hand on his chest. "We have to build an appetite."
Harry gulped. This was weird, wrong — and if it hadn't been for the fact that the last time he'd followed his dick's demands, he'd got it chopped off, he probably would have leaned forward and kissed her. Instead, he held her shoulders at arms length.
Her smile turned into a smirk. Her shoulders dropped, became less broad. And her face turned, changed, an amused twitch of her lips becoming an uproarious laugh.
"You should have seen your face!" A different Tonks giggled, throwing her head back. No longer Andromeda, but Nymphadora. Harry shook himself as the stately figure slimmed into Tonk's svelte form. Brown hair became a rainbow of teal and pink.
Her nose twitched below mischievous eyes.
"Dirty trick, Tonks." He grumbled.
"Well, can you blame me? You couldn't take your eyes off Mum."
"I was only taken aback by her resemblance to Bellatrix Les—"
"Oh, sure." Tonks snorted. She still hadn't stepped away. He could see the iris of her eyes, speckled pink. "Don't worry, I get it - Mum's a fox, ain't she?" She sighed. "Dad doesn't know lucky he is, really — talk about out of his league." She looked at him suddenly, her tits growing out, legs long, face getting younger.
She hugged herself under her breasts, pouting. "You only like older women Harry? Not sexy schoolgirl Dora Tomkins?" She swished her wand and twirled like a quick-change artist and her robes twisted, sliced away, morphed — and then she was in her short schoolgirl outfit.
"Nice Transfig." Harry muttered, impressed.
"Metamorphing gives us a better sense of Transfiguration." She shrugged. "Helps as an Auror, I can tell ya."
"I bet. Whatcha doing here? I'll be back to Hogwarts in a bit, promise."
"I know." She turned and collapsed into the weathered sofa, using a leg that grew inhumanly longer to pull a wooden chair closer to her to use as a footstool. With her legs up, she was dangerously close to flashing him. "Just wanted to hang with you — you spend half of the term hiding from me, you know."
What is this? He'd asked Amelia to assign Tonks as his bodyguard because he'd hoped he'd wear her down with charm, but she'd not shown much interest in him before this, aside from that time after the Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. He'd put that down to her riling up the watching Ginny until now.
"Nothing personal — just House business, you understand."
She fluttered her eyelashes — he was sure they were longer. "Can't have all business and no play, Harry."
She cocked a knee up and this time there was no almost about it — a glimpse of white between her thighs. Tonks smiled with lips that were suddenly large, red.
Dick sucking lips.
Harry hesitated. Alarm bells rang when stranger Andromeda seemed to want him, but this was Tonks. She wasn't a stranger. Maybe she was up to something but just as long as he could fuck her once, he didn't need to worry. One fuck and she was his.
He settled down on the sofa beside her. "We do have to take every opportunity to relax, with the war and all." He said slowly, putting his arm around her.
Doe eyes looked up at him — one blue, one green, impossibly wide. Her hand on his chest and then one long creamy leg thrown over his. "You make me excited, Harry Potter," she murmured.
"You're trembling."
"Just nerves." She gave him an easy smile. "Remember when we met?"
"I tumbled into you, fell on top of you."
"Bragged about how big you were." Tonks winked.
He winced. "Arrogance of youth."
"It was only last year."
"I've done a lot of growing up since then."
"That's what I'm worried about." She breathed out. Suddenly she was in his lap, arms around his neck, lips on his. A hesitant kiss that turned deeper, her tongue slipping into his as she rocked on his groin. Little gasps when his tongue dominated her, when his hands settled on her ass, when she ground against a cock that hardened quickly.
"Merlin." She bit out. "I forgot how big you were."
"Huh?"
She blushed. "I mean, from when you fell on top of me, I got an impression."
"Oh." He settled his lips on her neck, suckling, marking her — soon, she'd be marked by more than just a hickey. She changed where he touched — a hand under her skirt and her asscheek filled his hand as he squeezed it. A hand over her blouse and her tits bulged larger.
"I want you." He told her firmly, half-expecting a denial, or a "Not here.", or for her to pull away. But she only nodded breathlessly, reached under her skirt, pulled aside her panties and—
"Harry!" Dumbledore's voice.
He groaned. But it wasn't the old man, but a phoenix of swirling light, shimmering and translucent. A Patronus.
"The Dark Lord — he's at Nurmengard. Come, with haste!"
He swore and pushed Tonks away, sending her tumbling to the floor. She seemed dazed, blinking quickly.
"I…what?" She held her head.
"Rain check?" He didn't wait for her response, zipping his trousers and sprinting for the fireplace.
The heat of the flames sobered him from his lust.
Fucking Tom. There was nothing he hated more than getting cockblocked.
The whirl of green spun him in a nauseating ring. He stepped out into Dumbledore's office, who simply grabbed him and Apparated immediately — he couldn't breathe, ropes tightening around his chest, eyeballs bulging.
The colors reformed — they stood in a blizzard of snow, atop the tallest of mountains.
Nurmengard stood behind the curtain of snow fall. Its tower was missing its top — Harry glanced down the mountain and saw it smoking down below.
"Gellert." Dumbledore murmured — Harry glanced at him and saw him as pale as he'd ever been. Where the tower's top should have been, a figure flew in the air. The Dark Lord.
"You are too late, gentlemen." Voldemort's booming voice echoed off the mountains, unsettling the snow from the peaks.
Harry stepped forward, wand in hand, ready to do battle. But the Dark Lord's serpentine lips twisted in a smile. With a pop, he vanished.
"Not this." Dumbledore's whisper was carried to Harry by the wind.
"I…but why?" Harry asked.
"Why what?"
"Why Grindelwald? The man is old, withered. I thought he was but a shell."
Dumbledore stood up straight and twirled his wand — the wand lengthened into a staff that he buried into the snow and used as a cane to walk closer to the prison. "It has been decades since he has seen light and yet…"
"Yet?"
The Headmaster gave him a weary smile over his shoulder. "I, of all people, would not suggest that age is a limit of power."
Harry was silent as they came through the castle walls. Whatever had happened here, they'd entered without a fight — no scars on the walls, no holes or debris. Still, the bodies were plentiful — their blood painted the snow almost artfully.
"Such needless death," said Dumbledore.
"Clean cuts," he noted.
"A small relief — the guards did not suffer long."
"I thought this was place was unbreakable."
"It may have been, once upon a time. Gellert's legacy fades. It is the fate of all old men to be forgotten." His eyes turned glassy. "People forgot the threat, the funding dried up, the security grew lax."
The Headmaster's despair alarmed him — he'd never seen Dumbledore so dismayed. "It's okay, Professor — his muscles will have atrophied, his magic too." Harry hesitated. "Although the public will hide and the parents will pull their kids from Hogwarts when they learn there are two Dark Lords out there."
Despite his words of comfort, Harry felt a pounding in his ears, his vision tunneled with a red haze. Anger — at Dumbledore, for not dealing with the Dark Lord that was his duty. For locking Grindelwald up here instead of killing him, resulting in the world having to deal with two Dark Lords.
But the old man looked so bereft, he couldn't voice his anger.
"Probably." Dumbledore smiled bitterly. "My hope is only that it is very difficult for two men who wish to stamp their mark on the world to agree on what that mark shall be, don't you think?" His eyes regained a little twinkle. "You and I only have to agree to save the world — Gellert and Tom need to agree on how to rule it."
Harry didn't share that hope — the Headmaster didn't know what Harry did, that Tom had inscribed a paternal love for himself in Grindelwald's mind, as deep as it could go. A thought implanted so deep that it grew like ivy through his every cell — it wasn't unlike what Harry had done to his girls.
"You and he…you were close once, weren't you?" Harry knew they were more than close — Tom had seen into Grindelwald's mind and Harry into Tom's.
Albus smiled ruefully. "Close, yes. But the man I admired is long gone, my boy. I…" He pulled his glasses and cleaned them with a conjured cloth. "There are very few in this world that I believe have no hope of redemption. He is one. Rest assured, if that is what concerns you, that I shall not hesitate in a duel."
"I wasn't worried." Harry said. He was worried — Dumbledore had already failed to kill him once.
What would a duel would look like, if it came to that? A two versus two. He'd been counting on a fight being him and Albus versus Voldemort.
Sometimes he thought he knew how Tom thought, since there was a large part of him that was Tom, but he hadn't counted on this.
Grindelwald had been locked up for so long, he'd thought him a chess piece off the table. Only now he was one of Tom's what? Knights? Bishops?
He's still locked up in the past.
That was an interesting thought. Harry was wary of changing the past, but Grindelwald was in a dark cell for twenty four hours a day. He did not affect anyone — he didn't interact, he didn't speak. There was no butterfly effect for the man who lived in a cocoon.
Perhaps there was a way he could maim the chess piece before Tom could move it. Slice the tendons in his ankles, curse his heart to never beat above a hundred, or just Crucio the man into a dribbling mess, less Gellert and more Gilderoy.
Could he make that move before he bonded Amelia? She'd wonder what he was doing. Hell, could he get into Nurmengard without her or anyone else noticing?
Either way, he needed Amelia by his side — he couldn't breach Nurmengard with just Bellatrix at his side.
Dumbledore clapped a hand on his shoulder. "I sense your agitation, my boy."
Harry blew out a long breath, his shoulders sinking. "This…this could have been avoided, you know."
The old man gave a thin smile. "You see my mercy as weakness. But it was mercy born from love, and it was my love, in a strange way, that gave me the strength to defeat Grindelwald." Dumbledore gave him a peculiar look. "I hope love will make you strong too."
"…I guess."
"Worry not, my boy. With you by my side, I find courage."
Harry smiled. "I can't imagine a greater compliment." His words felt false — he was still angry at the man. Two Dark Lords — two mighty wands for him to defeat. His problems felt doubled.
"Back to the library?" Dumbledore hummed. "Perhaps I interrupted you from a good book."
"Not quite." Harry resolved. There was a punishment he'd been putting off, afraid of how the cruelty he gave out would reflect back on him. But this — Dumbledore's mercy…it had shown him the value of it.
Zero.
It was time to crack the whip.
###
"'Arry!" Fleur exclaimed when he Apparated into Malfoy Manor. "Where 'ave you been?"
Harry swept his eyes over all his girls. They were all there, dressed in matching sheer white negligees. Cissy's work, no doubt. They were all there, except—
"She's late." Hermione read his mind.
"Of course she is." He grunted. "I had to pick up some things."
"What's going on?" Marie frowned. "What is that?"
Harry dropped his loot on the carpet — planks of wood from a construction site, Aunt Petunia's metal clothesline pole, two drills from Uncle Vernon's firm. Some sturdy ropes — it wouldn't do to use conjured ropes. This might take a while.
"Daphne's crossed the line." Hermione explained.
"She crossed the line a long time ago." He said darkly. "This is just me getting my head out of my ass to deal with it."
"We did try to manage her." Cissy said sullenly.
"I know, sweetheart." He jerked his wand to and fro — the drill hovered in front of the pole and waited patiently for the rope to tie it firmly. Another pneumatic retractile drill inserted into the pole's behind. "Some girls just need a man's discipline."
"What brought this on?" Apolline wondered.
"Cho Chang, at lunchtime—" Hannah started.
"No." Harry said firmly. "Voldemort broke Grindelwald out of Nurmengard today."
The girls broke out into scattered gasps and murmurs.
"I've spent so long trying to be the opposite of him." Harry growled, clenching his fist. "Rape and murder in my nightmares so I spent the days trying to be kind."
"That's not a bad thing, Harry." Hermione offered hesitantly.
"But today I saw Grindelwald broke out and why?"
The girls were too cowed to offer an answer.
Harry punched his palm. "Because Dumbledore didn't put him down when he had the chance. Instead of taking his head, he put him in a gilded fucking cage, and what happened? First, Tom waltzes in there, mindfucks him, gets fucking tutored by him! Then, now he needs a distraction or a fucking bodyshield, or whatever the fuck Grindelwald will be, he goes and breaks him out."
Harry growled as he twisted the ropes up to the ceiling, mounting them in a harness. "So now, I've got to deal with two Dark Lords and to top it off, I've got that whore Veela to payback, stupid attacks on my life from fucking Tracey or Malfoy or whoever the fuck, and I can't even rely on my own fucking fiancée."
"W-we're here to help, my love." Marie said demurely.
A flash of green flame in the fireplace. Daphne stepped out in a green turtleneck and a black skirt, holding a glittering clutch handbag. She opened her mouth then closed it once she saw the expressions on everyone's face.
"I can come back later?" She quipped.
Harry growled and snapped his wand up.
"Aah!" Daphne screeched as she was hoisted up in the air, upside down, her skirt falling over her waist.
"Cissy said you enjoyed her sex dungeon too much." Harry said coldly. "We'll see if you enjoy this."
He snapped his wand down and her clothes tore from her body.
"W-wait—"
Apolline flicked her wand and Daphne's panties flew into her mouth, gagging her.
"If you trouble the one you love, you do not love zem at all." She said plainly.
Harry floated her down onto the criss-crossed X of wooden planks that balanced on the coffee table.
"Tie her to the planks." He ordered. "No, don't use magic."
The girls hesitated before knotting her tightly in rope, at her thighs, under her breasts, around her neck. Daphne squirmed, her eyes wide.
Helena slid a palm between the Slytherin's thighs. "Wet again." She sighed.
"It won't help her." He growled. "Fleur, hold her head up — I want her to see this."
"Oui, Master." The Veela roughly tugged Daphne by her hair so she could see Harry's invention. The drill that plunged back and forth and twirled so fast that she couldn't even see the drill bit. The high-pitched buzz frightened the life out of her, but she could only squirm in her restraints.
Fuuck. She thought. Had she gone too far? She was only trying to make sure he ended up with women true to him. Her eyes found his, begging for mercy, but his gaze was cold.
"Accio dildo." Harry murmured. From below the floor, clanging and clattering. The floor-trap swung open and an enormous pink dildo flew out. Ridged and thick and huge.
Harry put his wand to it, his lips twisted. "Engorgio."
"Merlin." Hannah muttered.
"It's the size of my leg." Helena gasped.
"Wider than my whole body." Hermione worried, gnawing on her knuckles.
He attached it to the end of the drill. It hissed and whirred threateningly, retracting and then plunging forth. Daphne squealed — she could feel the air being pushed by on it on her asshole.
"Not wearing your plug again." Helena said with disappointment.
Narcissa snarled and brought her hand out to slap Daphne's cunt harshly. "How can you not appreciate a gift from our Master?"
"I didn't want to do this." Harry said softly as he stepped to her side, his hand on her cheek. "But I don't have time for your games anymore, Daphne. I need you on my side, working for me. There's too much at stake."
She sobbed, not from fear but from the disappointment in his eyes. "I'm shawry, I'm shawwy—" She shrieked from her gag.
"No, not yet." Harry said quietly. His thumb rubbed the tears that ran down her eyes. "But I want you to know — if you want me to, I'll stop this. I'll let you go. I'll be disappointed but I'll understand."
Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"Harry, what?" Hannah scowled. "The bitch needs to be broken."
He held his hand up to silence her, not looking away from Daphne's eyes. "I want you to tell me. Do you know why I'm doing this? Do you think you should be punished? Have you been a bad girl?"
Daphne leaned her face into his touch, a lump in her throat, her cheeks red. She fell limp, blinked loose more tears, and nodded.
Harry kissed each tear away. "Do you want to be my wife?"
She nodded eagerly.
"Do you want me to discipline into being a good wife? To show you how to love somebody? To show you how to love me?"
Daphne's toes curled. She nodded.
"Good." He kissed her chastely. "Then let's begin."
###
"Merlin." Helena swallowed as she stepped out of the living room, joining Hermione in the corridor.
"I know, I had to step out too." Hermione handed her a glass of water. "I…Harry said it was okay."
Daphne's piercing shriek thundered through the house again.
"She does deserve it." Helena said firmly. Then she winced. "But that doesn't mean I'm not sympathetic."
"I can't believe that thing is all the way inside her bottom." Hermione grimaced. "Completely dry, too."
Helena nodded dumbly, nibbling on her fingers. "I'm kinda glad Harry took me there before I saw this — otherwise I'd have fainted."
Hermione shot her a panicked look."But it's not like—"
"No, no—" She assured. "Nothing like this. Harry'll be gentle, especially with you."
The two girls hid their smirks as Fleur stomped out of the room, her face soaked. "Stupid Eenglish 'ore!" She snarled as she made her way to the bathroom to find a towel.
"I told her not to stand there." Helena sniggered.
"Unbelievable how much Daphne…you know." Hermione shook her head slowly. "You'd think there'd be more pain than pleasure, I mean."
Helena put her fingers in her ears as Daphne screeched again. The loud buzzing drill didn't drown out her shrieks.
"Incroyable." Marie said from inside the room.
Helena peeked her head back in the room. "Oh, for goodn—" She turned back, now with a face wet and glistening. She spluttered a laugh. "I think Daphne finds pleasure in pain."
Hermione picked up her negligee to wipe her friend's face. "Is it wrong if I'm a bit relieved about that?"
"You don't need to be cruel." Helena assured her. "It's Harry that needs to show that side to her, I think. She won't behave, otherwise."
They both quietened when Harry spoke up authoritatively.
"The Dark Lord used to spend so much time experimenting with the Cruciatus, you know. Just endless months. He was fascinated by it." Harry hesitated. "He found this Muggle doctor's anatomy book and he'd try to localize the Cruciatus on every part of the body. There was one part he only tried once, though, because it brought more than just pain."
Despite their trepidation, Helena and Hermione both peeked around the doorway. Harry was placing his wand at Daphne's enflamed and sodden cunt. The girl herself looked as if she'd been battered by a tsunami and then a hurricane — sweat-soaked hair stuck to her face, tear-tracked cheeks, pale skin now red, nipples clamped by Apolline's hair-clips, her thighs pooled in sweat and her own juices. And through it all, that enormous dildo thrusting back and forth into her gaping asshole, a tireless machine.
Harry parted her pussylips with his fingers. "The clitoris. Crucio!"
Daphne bucked and writhed like she'd been electrocuted, her body arching into the ropes that bound her. Her toes curled up, her head thrown back, but the scream never left her throat.
"Mon dieu." Apolline murmured, holding out her conjured transparent umbrella like a shield.
Daphne shook her body from side to side as she sobbed. "No, shawwy, punissh—" She said incomprehensibly around her panties.
"Good girl." Harry said soothingly. "You're doing so well. We're going to do that a few more times but first—"
Daphne gurgled as Harry thrust his cock into her slick cunt, burying himself deeply. He pressed his wand against the base of his shaft.
The blonde beauty gasped.
"Self-transfiguration." Harry explained. "It's still me — but it's half-snake too."
Daphne spluttered around her gag. "Wrigg-ish-wriggling!"
"Oh, I can't watch." Hermione bit her fist again. "Harry, c-can Helena and I go make some dinner? Will you be done soon, do you think?"
Harry shook his head. "A few hours yet, I should think."
Daphne's eyes rolled back in her head.
"I'll wake her up again." Hannah said, who looked oddly fascinated.
"You two go eat." Harry said, giving them a tender look. "I'm sorry about this — go eat some food and warm up the bed and we'll cuddle after, okay?"
"Okay, Harry." They said in unison, finding each other's hands.
"Cissy, go get your strap-on. The next clit-Crucio needs to come when she's airtight."
Helena squeezed Hermione's hand tightly as they left the room and leaned in to her friend. "We are never going to be bad girls — if I went through that, I would die!"
Hermione nodded rapidly in agreement. "And what a way to go — what would it say on your gravestone?"
They burst into giggles. "Here lies Daphne Greengrass, who died from squirting dehydration." Helena suggested.
"Oh, stop." Hermione snickered. "I prefer something more subtle."
"Like what?"
"I dunno — here lies Daphne Greengrass, who left us doing what she enjoyed the most."
Their laughter was interspersed with the loud shrieks the rest of the night.
###
The next morning, Helena woke to find herself curled around Hermione. She spat out her friend's bushy hair and patted her awake.
"Wha?" Hermione said blearily.
Helena patted the mattress. "The bed's cold — Harry never came to bed."
Hermione rubbed her eyes. "We fell asleep."
They slid into their slippers and padded through the silent house. In the living room, they found the rest of the group lying on the carpet. Harry was wrapped around a comatose Daphne, holding her protectively. He'd just woken up, Helena realized — Mother was between his legs giving him a gentle morning blowjob.
"Morning, girls." Harry said quietly, stroking Daphne's hair affectionately. "Didn't want to wake you, you two looked so cute."
Hermione blushed. "How late did you go last night?"
Harry scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Don't actually know — there were birds singing outside, though." He kissed Daphne's forehead. "And we needed to do some, uh, aftercare, too."
Cissy popped his cock out of her mouth. "She won't be sitting down for a while."
Daphne murmured in her sleep.
"Ssh, let her sleep." Harry said gently. But it was too late — Daphne's blues blinked open tiredly.
"W-where am I?" She mumbled. "Oh." Realization blinked through her eyes.
"It's okay." Harry hugged her. "You made it."
Daphne closed her eyes and nuzzled him closer. "I made it." She repeated, taking shallow breaths. "I'm your good girl now. I'm a good girl. I'm a good wife. Good wife." She chanted under her breath.
She didn't seem all there, but Helena couldn't blame her. The Greengrass girl was a piece of work, but she was strong as hell. Despite herself, Helena couldn't help but feel a touch of compassion for her.
She of all people knew that it was a long path to finding love.
She sank to her knees beside Harry and her. "Here, let me fix your hair — it's all knotted."
Daphne opened one sleepy eye. "T-thanks."
"I'm kind of glad this all happened." Helena said absently as she stroked Daphne's hair. "I think you'll be so happy now. Harry's good girl."
"Harry's good girl." Daphne repeated drowsily.
Helena giggled at the out-of-it girl. "Mother will have no excuse to put you in the sex dungeon again."
Daphne blinked her eyes open, stretching like a cat. She wiped some of her drool off Harry's collarbones. "Why'd you all keep talking about a sex dungeon? What dungeon?"
Uh, oh. Tonks is in trouble. Daphne might just stay in line now, if her brains haven't seeped out of her ears. Now Harry's seen what Dumbledore's mercy resulted in, he's determined to correct his mistakes and not follow the Headmaster's footsteps. Next week, next Friday, next chapter - the gang figure out the Tonks ruse and begin Operation Susan.
Want to see art of Tonks in schoolgirl uniform, and read the next few chapters for Susan, Hermione + more, see 50+ art pieces, including the girls in saucy Halloween costumes, as well as fun little sexy story scenes? Check my profile bio.
Free no strings art on my X right now, link in bio. Fleur as a French maid, Helena and Cissy in lingerie together and Daphne in a teddy - don't miss it. Just a taste of the many more elsewhere.