Chapter Seventy Seven
Pansy hovered in the doorway of the Owlery, looking nervously behind her.
Harry took her in. "Nice robes."
She glared at him like he'd insulted her mother, brushing her hands over the new clothes. She was wearing the latest fashion — bandage robes, black cloth wrapped around again and again from knee to chest, her shoulders and arms bare. Metallic black, because the girls were determined to push the envelope — and McGonagall's heart rate — as far as they could.
She opened her mouth but the words didn't come.
"Lifestyle creep, they call it." Harry said casually as he slid the photo of Fleur back into the envelope. Fleur's body, at least — her face wasn't visible with Marie sitting on it. "The more money you get, the luxuries start to become necessities. Four-ply toilet paper, holidays and shiny new brooms. And the latest trend in robes, trying to keep up with whatever nonsense Daphne or Chang have thought of."
Pansy said nothing, clenching her fists.
"Even Hermione is susceptible." Harry remarked. "She begged me to buy her alpaca socks last month." He did an impression of his friend's prim voice. "This cold castle isn't bearable without alpaca wool." He shook his head, laughing.
Pansy's unique gray eyes narrowed. "Maybe if you didn't parade her in miniskirts and let her wear underwear now and then?"
"How do you know she's not wearing underwear?"
"I didn't." Pansy smirked. "But I could have found out, if you hadn't just told me, because like every other girl in Hogwarts, she's defeated by a stiff wind." Pansy rolled her eyes. "Have you seen the screams every time there's a Care of Magical Creatures class?"
"Oh." Harry pursed his lips. He had heard the girls' squealing and guys' glee as the Hogwarts girls tried to get to Hagrid's hut in the Scottish winter, both hands desperately trying to hold their skirts down. "McLaggen calls it the Great Sluttening."
Pansy sniffed. "Those without brains use what they have."
Harry crossed his arms, pulling out a clinking pouch of coins. "Does that mean you have information for me then?"
The girl stiffened.
"That's what I thought."
"This is different." Pansy growled. "I'm just getting some coin from Hogwarts' richest pervert to get back on my feet."
"Sure." He nodded amiably. "Cancel the cosmetic charms, then, show me what you bought with my money."
Her nostrils flared…but the nose around them changed, grew. Pansy revealed herself once more with each flick of her wand and with the final flourish, her robes uncoiled like an Egyptian mummy unwrapped.
Harry whistled. "Worth every knut." He murmured.
Porcelain skin in lace black, a crisscross of straps from bralette to choker, a bondage bra with matching high-cut panties above stockings. Like her tattoos, the lace swam in motion — the roses at the top of her stockings reared back and attacked with sudden fangs. Two spiders merged to cover the nipple that he glimpsed through the lace of her bra.
Harry hungered — the black only served to set off the acres of milky skin. He wanted to make that skin red with his handprints. He circled his finger and Pansy scowled but turned for him — the lace florals at the back of her panties twisted and turned, but couldn't hide the cleft of her pale bottom through the transparent panel.
"Happy now?" She bit out, crossing her arms.
"You are beautiful." He answered instead, watching as her skin pinked. He smiled to himself — he didn't need to use his hands to mark her. Her cheeks flushed as he stepped against her, as his breath settled on her face.
She exhaled loudly as he pulled out his wand, trembled when the tip of it settled against his skin. The ink that marred the parchment of her life betrayed her — every quote, every image, the black heart, the wand, the spider — they ran towards his wand in black and colour, an inkpot spilled. He traced his wand down her neck, between her breasts, over her stomach and between her thighs, followed all the while by her traitorous tattoos.
She closed her eyes, trying to control her trembling as his wand slid against her mound. Her ink sought his magic, his power, his heat, and so did her magic.
She squeaked when something cold touched her hand. A bag of Galleons.
"I have another." Harry whispered in her ear. "If you take my wand." He whispered an incantation.
Something thunked beside her. Beside her, a red velvet chair conjured from nothing.
She opened her mouth to snarl at him for the poor innuendo, but he was gone suddenly, at the other end of the small Owlery. And in her hand, his wand. Pure power.
She brought it up in wonder, feeling it rush through her body. Sparks burst out, red and blue.
Pansy stared, not understanding. What sort of wizard gave away their wand? He truly wasn't afraid of her — was the delta between them so great?
He's fought the Dark Lord, she remembered. Multiple times. Of course he wasn't afraid.
"W-what do you want me to do?"
He looked between her thighs and then at the red velvet chair. "You've got brains, haven't you? Your beauty isn't the only thing you've been hiding, is it?"
Pansy could feel her ears heat. Could she do this?
Harry set another bag of Galleons beside him. It looked heavy.
How much freedom could another bag buy her? Another week or three to ignore her parents, to look for a way out of the closing pincers.
"Don't do anything." She spat.
"Hands by my side." Harry promised.
"You're just gonna watch?"
"And fantasize."
"Can't you get your kicks some other way?"
"Plenty. But I chose you."
"Do you expect me to be grateful?"
"I expect you to know that an open offer can be closed. I could be burying my cock in Daphne in…how far are the dungeons? Three minutes?"
Pansy fell silent. Harry's wand in her hand jerked, like it was trying to escape her grasp.
She let her black hair fall over her eyes as she slowly, awkwardly, slipped her thumbs into the waistband of her panties. Slowly inched them down, thighs clamped firmly together.
She felt like a firstie once more. Her first night of Hogwarts, trying to change in front of all the other girls, humiliated and trying to hide herself.
But then there was no hiding. Her panties at her ankles, caught on her heels. She had to spread her legs to kick them off, and it was like Harry's eyes shot Severing Charms, cutting through her modesty, her dignity, staring at her pussy.
She settled awkwardly in the red velvet chair. The conjuration was perfect, a reminder of his power — fabric soft against her skin, the armrest a gleaming mahogany.
"Put your legs on the armrest." He ordered.
"I don't need instructions!" Pansy snapped.
But in the silence that followed, his smirk galling, she did as he asked. The narrow chair demanded her spread legs go somewhere, but she had to squeeze her eyes closed when she rested each leg on the cold wood. Spread wide for his enjoyment, the chill of the Hogwarts night against the heat of her pussy.
For the money. Just do this, one final time. Never again.
She creaked her eyes open.
"Merlin." She muttered. Harry's hungry eyes were one thing. But behind him, each silenced owl judged her with beady eyes. Harry's snowy owl on his shoulder looked amused.
"In your own time."
"Shut the fuck up." She growled.
"Just saying. You wouldn't want anyone to catch us?"
Pansy stared. "You didn't put up any wards?"
"How could I? You've got my wand. Besides, don't you like the thrill? We could get caught at any moment. Good thing Filch is dead, eh?"
She jabbed his wand out. "I could end your life, you know."
Harry smiled. "It would be tough, but it's possible. You'd have to trust that my wand would work for you, that you can cast the difficult Killing Curse, that it would actually kill the only person known to have survived it. Then you've got to escape the angry owls, but even if you do that, they wake up half the castle."
He cocked his head. "But then you have to get to the gates at the bottom of the grounds while you're being chased by the castle." He hummed in thought. "Have to get past Hagrid too. And even if you get away, where would you—"
"Alright, alright!" Pansy exclaimed. "I get it."
Harry smiled, absently feeding a treat to his owl. "Like I said, in your own time."
His wand in her hand reversed direction, dripping sparks on her bare thighs. She was splayed wide. On display like she'd never been. The cursive tattoo that was usually on her shoulder was curved around her little strip of pubic hair. WHATEVER IT TAKES.
She knew what he could see — the pink of her pussy, her shamefully fat pussy lips, the swell of blood that reddened them. Maybe, just maybe, his wand would hide her embarrassment.
His wandtip pressed at her entrance. She'd thought it would be cold but it was worse — a sinful heat that shot through her, like stepping out of a cold shower into a heated towel. The wand jumped in excitement.
You can do this.
And slowly, she did, feeding his wand into her pussy.
She didn't need lube — she could feel her own wetness and she could feel herself coating the wand as she twisted it.
You're going to be so rich. You can rub Daphne's face in it. You can get the power and wealth without slobbering over Potter's long, thick dick.
She shook herself, pushing the wand even further inside her.
"Gah—" She breathed out. It felt so good — too good, pure heat inside her. Sparks shot out of it, little electric bursts in her that made her gush. The wand was thin and slender, perfect for sliding in, vibrating like the toys she had in her bedroom drawer but so much better.
It filled her cunt until she was holding onto its knobbly end. Her face reddened when she pulled it out — the wet squelch, the supple wood shining with her wetness.
"Happy now?" She barked, desperate to clamp her thighs shut. With each leg on each armrest, there was no way to hide.
"You know that's not the deal."
Pansy hissed. She did know. He wanted her to finish.
His gaze was humiliating but the lust in his eyes helped. She wasn't the only affected. He liked what he was seeing. And even though she was the one with her legs spread like a Knockturn Alley whore, she still had some power.
At least, that's what she told herself as she slid his wand back and forth.
Harry muttered a charm and Pansy shrieked.
The wand grew — and now it was filling her cunt, rubbing up against her walls, ridged and knobbed and ribbed.
"What the fuuuck—" Pansy threw her head back. It was like the wand had a mind of its own, pushing deeper, sparking heat in her tight twat. She couldn't help herself, her hot pussy coating the wand in shameful wetness. The vibration felt incredible and she couldn't resist the pleasure. Pumping the wand faster, rocking her hips against each thrust, gasping and hissing with each push and pull, her snatch tightening down on those delightful ridges.
"Enjoying yourself?" Harry teased.
"Fuck you." She gasped out, but she didn't stop, her wrist working his wand rapidly. "I just want to get this over w—oooh!"
Harry had muttered another charm and the wand had changed again. It had grown an attachment at its top as she pulled it out and when she slid it back in, the wooden curved head — a branch — settled outside her body, resting on her clit and vibrating.
Pansy screamed. The wand inside her rubbed against her g-spot and the branch outside quivered at her clitoris. The scent of her own arousal filled the room. Her whole body shivered. Her legs shook. Toes curled.
"No!" She shrieked, but it was too late. She felt like there was an Incendio in her cunt as she clamped her pussy around the wand, around the ridges. She was burning from the inside out.
The fire had to be doused.
"Fuuuuck—" She came, her hips bucking as she gushed and sprayed around his wand. She imagined herself flooding the fire inside her, flooding it with every drop of her orgasm, her sodden cunt the source of the river.
And then slowly, she melted into the chair. Licked the blood from her bitten lips. Pansy sighed in satisfaction. With her eyes closed, she could pretend he wasn't there. She could enjoy the come down — the twitch of her walls, the wand that trembled gently now, the pleasure of the greatest orgasm she'd ever had.
The truth had to be faced. She opened her eyes as she slowly slipped the wand free, wincing immediately at the wet squelch.
The truth was difficult. Her pussy was red, shiny, her juices over her thighs. Her toes still curling and uncurling, thigh still quivering. But what was worse was the dark stain on the chair, the splatter of drops on the castle stone, the creamy dew on his wand…and the raised eyebrow on Harry's face, standing right between her legs. His stomach was covered in her spray.
She squealed, jerking back, but her legs were held by the armrests — and his hands on them.
"That was beautiful." He murmured, eyes dark. "A witch in heat, a wondrous treat." He whispered the rhyme she'd never heard.
Pansy wiped her brow, realized her face was sweaty. When he took his wand back, she knew she was in trouble. She missed it immediately. His pure power.
So when he offered it back, at her lips, she opened her mouth instinctively. His cream-covered wand on her tongue. The fight was in her brain, her fists clenched, but her tongue was already cleaning it.
Shame burned her throat when he pulled it away like a toy from a child.
"You could break me." Pansy whispered the unsaid truth. He had the power to ruin her.
Harry's hand took her cheek, thumb wiping away the blood on her lips. "I could put you back together."
"No more." Pansy sniffed. "This is the last time. I want a ring. Marriage. Security, for me and my family."
"Did you?" He tilted his head, ran his fingers down her neck to the tattoo of a wand glowing green. "Isn't all this because you so hated the idea of a cage? You hated the cage so you tainted the bird inside." His voice was silky soft.
"What?"
"The white dove became a black crow because she thought it would warn away those that sought to lock the cage."
Pansy shook her head, scowling. What did he know? What could he know of a witch's dilemma? "A wife has a gilded cage at least. A concubine has a bed without windows — she sends letters to the wife of the House, requesting a night with her husband. Less than a Mistress, living off scraps of coin and attention, dependent on the favour of the women who grant access to the Lord, like a king of old."
Harry brought her chin up so she could meet his blazing green eyes. "Do you know who meets directly with the king? His spy."
Pansy swallowed. "A spy?" She laughed, hysteria in her stomach. Was that why he wanted her? To be the spider in the Dark Lord's halls? "That's a fool's game. My mother always says that spies wear two marks of ownership and end up with four hands choking their throat."
Harry leaned closer and she was all too aware of her bare leaking pussy against the silk of his robes. "What if I told you that my mark prevents his from marking you permanently? That mine can remove his, when the time comes. Remove his taint, his pull."
"Impossible." Pansy declared. Her father had tried everything. Everyone knew the Dark Mark couldn't be taken away.
"Is it?" He said, so close that his nose touched hers. "Why do you think I wipe my cock with the hair of Narcissa Malfoy?"
"I…"
"Father of Draco, wife of Lucius. You think she didn't carry the mark? Why else would she bend for me, debase herself for all to see?"
"You removed her mark…" Pansy trailed off. She'd wondered — they'd all wondered — why Narcissa Malfoy had become Potter's toy. She'd stared at the photo in the papers of Narcissa at Chang's society ball, wearing a naked gown of sequins and nothing else. She could still remember how the photo moved — Harry's arm dropped to her ass and the little jump and squeal Narcissa had done as the cameras flashed, her ass pinched. The adoring look the proud woman had given him, her hand on his chest.
It made sense. What else could make a woman do that, but for freedom from the chains that held her?
"Prove it." Pansy demanded.
"Come with me." He said simply, pulling her from the chair.
"W-wait, my panties—"
"Mine now." Harry smirked, stuffing them into his pocket. She stood, bewildered, as he flicked his wand — her robes rebandaged her, the stained chair disappeared, the drops on the floor disappeared. But the smell of her pussy didn't dissipate, not even when they left the owlery.
Pansy could feel her sticky thighs, the squish of her self, but Harry's grip on her back was firm and unyielding.
"Where are you taking me?" She growled. "I'm not letting you take any more liberties."
"Relax, you've done the hard part." He said. "Oh, right, I almost forgot." He stuffed his pouch of coins into the robe. The weight of it calmed her, even as she was blindfolded.
"What are you doing?!"
"Relax, you can't see how I come and go from the castle."
"If you try anything, Potter, I swear I'll rip your cock off."
Harry blanched and she grinned under her blindfold. At least he still had some fear in him. What made that threat work, when all others failed?
She smelled the bleach of a bathroom, the damp of a…dungeon? Down a long set of steps, her coins jingling with each step. The warmth of a torch, air that felt sharp and then the telltale heat of a fireplace.
"Where are we—ah!" The pull at her navel. Her head dizzy. But when the blindfold was pulled away, she recognized the living room.
Malfoy Manor. She'd been here once before as a young girl to make the deal between their families, the betrothal left in tatters, reducing her to the type of girl who had to fuck herself with Potter's wand in exchange for coin.
The sound of padded heels on thick carpet. And there she was — Narcissa Malfoy. Only Pansy had never seen her like this. She wore a glossy blue corset with white laces up its center, tied so tight that her breasts bulged from the top. Blue lace strapped from the corset's bottom to the top of her fishnet stockings, framing silk white panties. She tottered on the highest heels Pansy had ever seen. A thick Potter red choker gleamed from around her neck, glittering with rubies.
"My Lord," Narcissa rushed to him. "I did not expect you."
He kissed her forehead. "Cissy, strip for me."
Pansy gaped as the woman didn't even question his order. Her corset unlaced slowly to reveal her huge creamy tits, which she thrust out proudly. Her garters unhooked, her fishnets shimmied off, her panties pulled down and kicked away. The heels remained on.
Narcissa didn't even glance at her. It was like she didn't exist.
"Turn for me." Harry ordered. "Nice and slow."
"Yes, my Lord." She said demurely. She revolved for Pansy to take her in. Her hourglass figure, her breeding hips, her perfect pink pussy, a thick ass. Pansy took a sharp intake of breath at the sight of a diamond between her cheeks.
How much was a diamond like that worth? Pansy could live off the proceeds for years…and here it was, just adorning the asshole of Draco's mother.
Narcissa was everything Pansy wasn't — porcelain perfect skin, untainted, the pureblood princess that every man desired.
"As you can see," Harry said softly, not taking his eyes off his Mistress as she preened and turned for him. "She has no Dark Mark."
"No mark." Pansy repeated dumbly, stunned.
Narcissa tossed her long platinum blonde hair back proudly. "Just one." She said, receiving Harry's nod. A long manicured finger pressed against the wetness of her pussy and then again, above it. Where her finger touched, a black lightning bolt appeared. Harry's mark, Pansy realized.
Harry reached out to take Narcissa's hair and tugged it roughly, making her squeal happily and stare up at him.
"So you see, I can remove the Dark Mark whenever I desire. I can make it so his taint doesn't affect you. I can even remove it for your father."
Pansy's head felt light. With the Dark Mark removed, her parents would be returned to her. They'd no longer be the strict and fear-filled servants they'd been since Father had thrown his lot in with the Dark Lord.
Potter offered a future. Freedom. But the lightning bolt shimmered on Narcissa's skin as she nuzzled Harry's neck, reminding her that she'd have to take a mark to remove a mark.
"What would you offer me?" Pansy said, her throat dry. "This is just showing me that you can remove the Dark Mark that you want me to take."
Harry looked at her over Narcissa's head, who was loudly suckling on his neck and jaw. "More wealth than you can imagine. Safety. Shelter."
Pansy's lips thinned. "Only if you win."
Narcissa's head snapped around to glare at her. "I cut my own son out of my life, so confident am I that Harry will win. He has power you can't imagine," she spat.
Pansy flinched. The woman's fervor was frightening, a fanaticism in her eyes. She only cooled down when Harry rubbed her naked back.
It was odd but not unusual. Witches flocked to powerful wizards. It was a tale as old as time. And yet, Harry had become so strong so quickly…
"I don't trust you." Pansy admitted. "You have power you shouldn't have, allies that you shouldn't be able to make. We were the same age, last year — now you act like you're ten years older."
Harry smiled at her like she'd won a prize. "You shouldn't trust me. But that doesn't mean I'm not offering you the only path you've got. Go away, think about it." He took a thick grasp of Narcissa's bottom. The woman shivered like she'd orgasmed.
"Okay." Pansy said, because what choice did she have?
"But remember, in the summer, Daphne and I will be wed. When that happens, you'll be dealing with her for my favour, and trust me, I'm a lot nicer to deal with."
Pansy shivered. Greengrass would probably exchange galleons for her pounds of flesh.
Narcissa let out a feverish whimper, arching her body into Harry's touch.
Pansy grimaced. She'd think less of the high-class whore, if she wasn't only just made aware of how good Potter's magic and power felt. "I…I don't want to be your whore, even if I do this."
Harry smiled at her dismissively. "You won't be. I have enough whores." He yanked on Narcissa's hair and she obediently knelt between his legs, rubbing her face against his crotch. "Don't I, Cissy?"
"Yes, My Lord." She agreed eagerly.
Pansy shuddered. The worst of the whole situation was her own hot pussy, tightening around a wand that wasn't there. She could imagine herself in Narcissa's position, Potter's expensive sex toy, a trophy in a mansion.
And for a second, her thighs squirming together, it didn't seem like a bad deal.
###
Daphne gasped into his ear, fingers scrabbling in his hair, her legs wrapped around his back as he held her against the wall and fucked her, standing on her pillows.
"Inside, inside, inside—" She begged.
Harry groaned and unloaded, his balls tightening as he finished, his whole body jerking with each rope.
Since they'd realized that she could pull on his power, he'd been experimenting as much as he could — the fun way. Daphne could empower herself, but only to an extent. Her curses given more power, her magic given more thrust. Even her intent — the imagination to define the spell's result — was boosted.
But it was boosted exponentially more when she carried a full load of his cum in her. When his seed oozed between her thighs, she glowed with boiling magic — her Lumos a lightning bolt, her Blasting Curse a grenade. She struggled with control, though.
Daphne had cast a spell to strip him of his clothes and ended up shredding them to string, and took half his forearm skin in the process.
Control would come with practice. And in order to practice, she needed—
"Merlin." Daphne shivered as he pulled out, falling face first onto his shoulder, her legs not strong enough to hold herself.
Harry patted her ass affectionately. "No time for rest — we can't waste the whole cum load inside of you. This time, let's try Transfiguration."
Daphne moaned in dismay. "I wanna sleep." She whined.
"Sleep comes later. Eight spell chains, come on. Bedside table to goat, now."
She grumbled. "You try Transfiguring after getting impaled by a foot long log."
Harry's reply was cut off by an uncertain voice outside the curtains of her four-poster bed. "Daphne? Are you in here?"
"Fuck, it's Tracey." Daphne squeaked, cradling her abused pussy. "Don't let her—"
He yanked the curtains open, enjoying the look of shock on the auburn-haired girl when she saw the state of Daphne, belly inflated, trying to stop his cum from seeping out.
"Hello, Tracey." Harry said eagerly, his cum-covered cock swaying between his legs.
"I'll-I'll leave you two—"
"Not so fast, sweetheart. Take a seat, why don't you?"
"I, I wouldn't want to interrupt."
"Nonsense." He said politely, taking her arm to tug her down to the bed. He'd been waiting for this. Tracey had been through the Greengrass' re-education treatment and was being tormented by Daphne, he was sure, but that didn't change the fact that he needed to punish her.
All those that made an attempt on his life had to be punished. Tracey, Draco, the Veela.
But he could start here.
"Harry," Daphne said cautiously.
"I just want to say hello." Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Tracey and I, we're going to be friends now, aren't we?"
How could he punish her?
What would Dumbledore not do? That had to be his new mantra.
Thankfully, he had decades worth of punishment advice in his head, from the Dark Lord himself.
"Take a pound of flesh." Tom hissed.
Mei Chang sniffed in his head. "You English think yourselves superior in all things, but the Chinese do torture you cannot even imagine. You have heard of our water torture, yes?"
Harry ignored them. The Dark Lord's memories told him that Voldemort would tailor a punishment to each and every person, when he had the time. First he would ask—
"Tell me, what do you value the most in this world?" Harry asked, taking a hairbrush from Daphne's bedside table and stroking Tracey's hair.
The girl sat rigidly, her hands in her lap. "I don't understand."
"It's an easy question, isn't it? What do you love? What makes your heart beat?"
Tracey bit her lip and her hand on the sheets inched further toward Daphne. The two girls held hands, even as their hands rested in a wet spot.
"Daphne, is it?" Harry figured. "You love her, don't you?"
The girl nodded her head, swallowing audibly.
"I can understand that. I love her too, even if she is a handful." He said. At his words, Daphne was behind, pressing her breasts into his back.
"I love you." She whispered.
"How do you love her?" Harry asked.
Tracey shook her head, fidgeting. "I don't understand."
"At night, how do you love her?"
Tracey blushed red. "Like…we kiss and we touch and we—"
"Does she bury her tongue in your cunt?"
"Harry!" Daphne squealed.
"She's got a long flexible tongue, doesn't she?"
Tracey squirmed but finally nodded.
"Do you rub yourselves together? Scissoring, is it?"
She pulled her knees up against her chest and gave a slight jerk of her head.
Harry nodded to himself and stood at the edge of the bed. "Daphne, strip her, strap her down."
"No, wait, please!" Tracey screamed.
Daphne looked sour but she did as he asked. Her powerful absorbed magic tore Tracey's clothes to pieces and almost yanked her arms from their sockets as she was spread-eagled on the bed and bound to shackles on each corner.
"Relax." He said gently. "I'm not going to assault you. I just need you naked in order to perform this spell."
Tracey looked at him fearfully. She was a beautiful girl, her long tousled hair flirting between red and brown, her body tight and lithe. Daphne had smartly never let her cut her hair, which meant she had a lion's mane, wild and fiery and voluminous, but it suited her almond-shaped eyes, giving her a unique look.
Freckles on her breasts and nipples wider than almost any he'd seen. A bushy tuft of reddish brown hair above her pussy lips.
Daphne looked a little embarrassed as he glanced at her. "I had her grow it out, wanted to give you some variety."
"You are sweet." Harry praised.
"It was a mistake!" Tracey begged. "I've learnt my lesson, I swear, I swear!"
"Not yet." He said simply. "You love Daphne the most, and so you can no longer love her." He traced his wand down the line of her groin, and from his wand poured silver. For a second, he was Voldemort making a silver hand for Pettigrew, but he shook that thought away.
When he was finished, he settled back. Tracey looked in shock at her new belt. A silver chastity belt, chunky and metal, like a thong crafted by a medieval blacksmith.
"No more witch-on-witch action, I'm afraid." Harry said sadly. "Daphne, I don't want her using her tongue on you, either, understood?"
"Yes, Master." Daphne said.
Tracey's jaw flapped. "B-but—"
"But how are you going to keep the affection of your only friend in this life?" Harry finished her thought. "Not my problem."
Tracey's shock turned to anger, her cheeks flushing. "You're just punishing her, not me — because you're jealous that I make her happier than you."
Harry smirked. "I don't know — she seems pretty happy when she's cumming on my cock. Or can't you feel the wet sheets you're lying on?"
Daphne blushed red, stroking Tracey's hand. "Don't argue back, Trace. Take your punishment — we both need discipline, I've learned that. Let's be Harry's good girls, together."
"Who are you?" Tracey growled at her.
"What else does Daphne like about you?" Harry clambered onto the bed. "These pretty titties, maybe? Daphne?"
The blonde girl bit her lip. "They're a nice handful, aren't they? They're bigger than mine." Daphne looked down at herself. "Or they used to be — you keep making me bigger."
"This might hurt, Tracey." Harry muttered another spell. She screamed as her pink nipples were speared through — a gold piercing, a hook from which hung a chain from breast to breast.
"Just to stop you touching yourself, or Daphne licking them."
"I wouldn't disobey." Daphne said petulantly.
Tracey swallowed the lump in her throat, blinking back tears. "Please, Harry — she's all I have."
"That's why I'm taking her away." Harry said evenly. "And believe me, this is me being merciful, for Daphne's sake. If she didn't vouch for you, I'd have your head on a pike outside Hogwarts. I'd fake a Dark Mark on your arm and they'd probably give me plaudits for killing you. That's how easy it would be to get rid of you."
Tracey sobbed. "I-I just didn't want you to take her away. You did something to her, I know it. I just know it!"
Daphne squeezed her hand tightly. "He showed me love, Tracey. And now he's showing you the path to your happiness. Isn't he wonderful?" She looked at Harry lovingly.
Harry knelt beside Tracey's head, on the pillows, and took her long hair in hand. "Ready for a haircut, Tracey?"
"No!" She screamed suddenly. The fight left her body. "Not my hair, please not my hair!"
He blinked. "Really, that's the line? I thought you flying carpet-munchers liked short hair."
Tracey's eyes were wide with fright. "Daphne loves my hair, I grew it out for her, it took me years! Please, anything else, not my hair, just not my hair."
Daphne touched his hand. "She'd be much prettier for you with long hair, Master."
Harry sighed. "I'm such a softie. I'll have to do something else, in exchange for my mercy, understood?"
Tracey nodded mutely.
By her head, his cock rested not inches from her. He could see her trepidation.
"Does my cock do anything for you?" His member was shining with cum and Daphne's juices.
"N-nothing."
He took it in hand and smacked it on her forehead, against her cheeks. "I did this to Fleur the other day and I swear on my life, she had a mini orgasm." Harry grinned.
Tracey glared up at him. "You've bewitched them because you're not man enough to get them yourself."
"Tracey!" Daphne slapped her leg.
Harry shrugged. "Tell me — it's common thought that it's impossible for witches to be entirely gay. Morgana's magic, that which makes witches beautiful, makes them prone to submissiveness, that which makes them salivate at a wizard's magic and smell, it wouldn't allow it. What do you reckon?"
Tracey sneered. "Misogynistic bullshit."
Daphne flinched.
He nodded thoughtfully. "I agree, kind of. I think it's more the opposite — Morgana's magic makes witches find each other desirable, beautiful." He reached out a hand to stroke Daphne's hair. "I made Daphne here sixty-nine Hermione the other day, and they both seemed to enjoy it once they stopped arguing."
Daphne shivered. "I was picking bushy hair out of my teeth for a whole day."
Harry sniggered. "You loved it." He slapped his cock on Tracey's face again. "Would you suck this cock?"
Tracey shook her head.
"Even though it has Daphne on it?"
She scowled.
"What if I told you that I'd take off your chastity belt and order Daphne to munch on your pussy until you sprayed Aguamenti-style?"
The Slytherin girl's face went red but she still shook her head.
Harry shrugged. "Suit yourself." He flicked his wand and her chastity belt floated off her body. Tracey sighed in relief for a second until he pressed his wand at her engorged clit. Her shriek almost deafened him when he gave her a silver clit piercing, a little ball of metal through her flesh. Her belt was soon reattached.
He winced, holding his fragile ears. "Bet you wish you took the haircut now, huh?"
Tracey sobbed, writhing from side to side.
"It's okay, you're okay." Daphne told her softly, wiping her sweat from her forehead. "He had to do this, to make you behave."
"I'm not that evil." Harry argued. "You did try to kill me, you know. And you can still orgasm, if you really want to. Any time you want to, just say the words to activate my runes. Say 'I'm Harry's good little dyke slut.'"
The auburn-haired girl stared at him with murder in her eyes.
"Try it now — those runes aren't easy, I want to test them."
"Go fuck yourself," she spat.
He pressed his wand against the back of her neck. "Try it or I take your hair — my hand might slip and I could take an ear too."
Tracey shivered.
"Do it." Daphne encouraged.
"…I'm Harry's good little dyke slut." Tracey said and then immediately squealed loudly. An electric blue spark visible travelled from nipple piercing to nipple piercing, along the chain. Her clit piercing buzzed as it vibrated and sparked. And in her bottom, the butt plug that Daphne had made her borrow began pulsing frantically.
Her body arched as she came, lifting off the bed. Her wetness slid down under her chastity belt, marking her thighs.
Daphne held her as she recovered, trembling. "It's okay, it's not so bad, is it? Harry's so good to you, letting you take your pleasure still."
Tracey's knee came up to fend Daphne off. "How is this good? Why, why do you let him act like this?! What's wrong with you?!"
Daphne's smile was placid as she stroked her friend's hair. "The same reason I'm here for you, Trace. It's love."
The girl's sobs filled the bed as she came down from her thunderous orgasm, but Harry pulled Daphne away.
"Did you try it?" He whispered into her ear.
Daphne nodded proudly. "I could see her surface thoughts. I'm using your power, your Legilimency!"
Harry smiled. Tracey needed punishment, but this was her true value.
A guinea pig.
This was how he had to act, he knew. To always think what would Dumbledore not do?
###
Albus Dumbledore removed his spectacles slowly and placed them in his lap, heaving a sigh. "I do have to admit, Nymphadora, that I expected more progress than this."
Tonks shifted in her seat, feeling like a Hogwarts student caught out of curfew hours. "I'm sorry, Professor, I'm trying, I swear! He's avoiding me or he's not interested or, I dunno—"
"I can't express enough how important it is that we have the evidence to stop Harry, before he joins the Dark Lord. We absolutely must have your Pensieve memory of—" Dumbledore cut himself off with a heavy exhale.
Getting pounded by Harry's big dick. Tonks finished in her head, blushing.
"I'm trying, Professor — just give me more time."
The Headmaster's hands trembled as he cleaned his glasses. "I fear that, if you do not act soon, Nymphadora, he will walk his path all the way to be the third Dark Lord we have to worry about. We must have him in a cell before that happens."
"I'll have him — I mean, I'll have it soon. The evidence." Tonks said determinedly, trying to tug her skirt closer to her knees. Were her panties showing? She'd gone to extreme measures trying to get Harry's attention — she'd had to, the other girls were so competitive.
"I know what I'm asking of you Nymphadora." The Headmaster said ruefully. "I would have no ill thought of you, if you have reservations, if you would like to abandon the mission—"
"No, no!" Tonks almost stood up. "I'm all in, Professor. I can do this."
Dumbledore gave her a proud smile. "There has never been one to dedicate so much or sacrifice so much. I will ensure that you are awarded and rewarded, my girl."
Tonks blushed. "I just want to stop him, to help the war effort, sir."
"I'm very glad to hear that."
"Uh, I wonder, I don't want to ask but—" She could feel her cheeks — and hair — going red.
"Yes?"
"Could I ask for a, uh, budget for my mission?"
"A budget?"
Tonks rubbed her neck. "Well, the thing is, a lot of girls are after Harry and he's so focused on his own power and, well, you know he's already fu—bonded some poor women, so he's quite experienced already, so a short skirt doesn't really do it—"
"My girl, I am quite sure I have no idea what you are saying."
"I need to dress sexier." She blurted out and then covered her mouth. How was she having this conversation with Albus Dumbledore?
"I see." Dumbledore looked as uncomfortable as she did.
Tonks swallowed, wishing the ground would swallow her up. "And I need to buy, uh, adult things, costumes, because the school uniform doesn't catch his eye—"
"I see—"
"And my three years of formal Auror training are almost done, but the proper Auror salary doesn't kick in until summer, so I haven't got much money—"
"Nymphadora—"
"And my mum won't let me access the family money—"
"Nymphadora!" Dumbledore said sternly. "Please compose yourself." He opened a drawer under his desk and retrieved a heavy bag of Galleons. "Take this, buy whatever you need, and please, let us never speak of this again."
"Gotcha," Tonks sighed in relief, wiping her brow. "Sorry. Thanks, I mean. I'll be going, then."
"Good luck, Nymphadora. I look forward to your successful report."
The door closed behind her.
When the sound of her heels had long gone, Dumbledore gave an irritated glance to the painting on the wall. "I don't want to hear it, Phineas."
Phineas Black smirked. "I wasn't going to say a thing, Albus. Who hasn't fattened up a pig before its slaughtered?"
###
Voldemort hissed as he landed on the island in the cave. Before he even landed, he knew. Someone had been here. The future him, just like he'd said, securing the Horcruxes before they could be stolen away.
Fire scorched the island. Dead Inferi piled on top of each other.
He did not like this. The man — him — was telling the truth, as far as he could tell. Voldemort could feel himself in him, his soul in his form. The man truly was Lord Voldemort reborn, from a future unknown.
But that didn't mean he had to trust him.
The future him had told him to follow the same path, that the path would lead to victory.
No. He didn't like taking chances and he didn't like trusting blindly.
The prophecy demanded a killing.
Harry Potter or Neville Longbottom? Just to be safe, he'd have them both killed.
Out of the cave, he Apparated away, back to his chambers.
Two were kneeling, waiting for him. Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Black, their fingers clasped around their Dark Marks.
Voldemort sniffed. The fools believed that by touching their Dark Marks, their wait would be halved, their Lord knowing they were waiting.
But he did not hasten for any servant.
Even new ones, like Bellatrix Black, her Dark Mark still fresh, still bleeding. Her recruitment was a blessing — she was more powerful, dangerous, mad. But she had taken time to join, requesting training and demonstrations of his might.
It had made him think that she was deliberating between two Masters.
And when he saw her at the Symposium with Foxham, his suspicions bloomed.
Bellatrix was close to the other Voldemort. It made sense — thrust back in time, the other him would want to rely on his most loyal. One Voldemort went to Lucius Malfoy and was farcically murdered. The other went to Bellatrix Black.
She would be a treasure, he knew. But could he trust her?
"Bellatrix."
"My Lord."
"The man you were with at the Symposium. Foxham."
Her dark eyes met his, violet tinted, violence promised. "Yes, My Lord?"
Voldemort sank into her thoughts, as deep as he could. She had Occlumency, but he didn't need to see her memories. He just needed to feel her emotions.
Nothing — no loyalty, no love, no admiration, no lust.
Not like the burning loyalty she felt towards him, the frantic desire to prove herself.
He smiled to himself, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. "If you wish to prove yourself, Bellatrix, I have a mission for you."
"Yes, My Lord?" She said eagerly.
"The Longbottom child, the baby. Find a way through their protections. Kill the boy."
Voldemort studied her as he spoke. Even the most loyal, most mad, those who swam in the taint of the deepest Dark Arts, struggled to kill a baby. It was the darkest of sins to destroy life just born.
But Bellatrix just smiled. "Gladly, my Lord."
"Go."
When the doors to his chambers closed behind her, he studied Lucius, who remained admirably still.
"What do you think, Lucius?"
"She is unstable, my Lord, but powerful."
"Will she do as I command?"
"I believe so. She has…tremendous fervor."
The Dark Lord hissed in amusement. Lucius had a tongue unlike any snake he'd seen. "I have news, Lucius, which I shall not share with you. Suffice to say, this Foxham, he is powerful."
Malfoy stilled. "I thought him just a socialite, my Lord."
Voldemort rumbled. "He is more mighty than that, by far. Allow him a wide berth, but I need all eyes on his every movement. Where he goes, who he sees, the company he keeps. You understand the importance of this?"
"Yes, My Lord."
The blonde man clearly didn't, but Voldemort wasn't concerned. Lucius was many things, but always a good servant. He'd do as commanded.
"How will you do it?"
Malfoy paused for a long minute, smart enough to realize that his answer could be slow but it could not be foolish. "Foxham is seen only in the company of pureblood women. Women of beauty. He dances with Amelia Bones, Alice Longbottom, converses with Lily Potter."
"Only purebloods?" Voldemort repeated. That made sense — his future self would only stomach the company of the pure, even if, in his rebirth, his baser, more carnal desires had reignited.
Lucius's head rose, his lips curled. "I even heard of him having dinner with Dolores Umbridge, a Ministry worker. Quite an ugly woman, if I may say so, but a pureblood."
"She's a pureblood? I do not know this name."
"She states as such." Lucius shrugged. "Connected to the Selwyns, or so she says. There are few stupid enough to lie about having pureblood heritage."
The Dark Lord's lips thinned. "Indeed. What is your idea, Lucius? I tire of you."
"I could get my wife to become close to him." Lucius said slowly. "As a pureblood woman of some beauty, this Foxham may let her into his secrets — she could surmise his whereabouts and his goings."
Voldemort let the thought percolate. Narcissa Malfoy. A rose with a thorn. He'd never sought to recruit her, out of respect for Lucius and out of the belief that she was too timid for this work…so even the future Voldemort may not suspect that she was working on his orders.
"Do it." He ordered. "And keep me updated."
The Dark Lord smiled to himself as Malfoy left. He wanted the throne that his future self had spoken of, so he had to be careful where he stepped, but if Foxham really was the future Dark Lord, then he had to know that Lord Voldemort never took orders.
###
"It's not an order, old boy, you can say no." Frank Longbottom told him as they stood in their sunny kitchen.
Harry looked at him uneasily. Behind the foppish man, Alice pulled her dress lower, almost revealing her breasts. "But, Harry," She said slowly. "If you were our Secret Keeper, you'd have to come check on us any time you wanted."
Harry's eyes went wide. Alice was a daring little slut.
Frank grinned, oblivious, patting his arm. "We'd be ever so grateful, chap."
"So grateful." Alice added, licking her lips.
Harry scratched his temple. This was so fucked. If he became the Longbottom's Secret Keeper, would he have to allow Voldemort or Bellatrix or whoever it was into the house? After he was doing piledriving Alice into a Whorecrux?
"What, uh, what would I have to do?"
"We'd need food delivered. Groceries, the usual, you know? Bread, fruit, chicken," Frank ticked off his fingers.
Behind him, Alice pushed her tits together. "Milk."
"Semi-skimmed, yes." Frank nodded. "So you'll do it?"
"I…yeah, okay."
"Fantastic." Frank gripped his shoulder seriously. "I won't forget this. I just know I can trust you — Alice said that you'd be great at keeping secrets."
Harry choked. "Did she?"
Frank leaned closer. "Between you and me, I'm glad she'll have a friend to talk to, you know — or she'll drive me batty!" He coughed and straightened up. "What else do we need, Alice?"
Alice sat on the rustic kitchen table and crossed her skirt-clad legs. He caught a flash of her pink pussy as she smirked. "Some baby oil?"
Frank snapped his fingers. "To prevent diaper rash!"
Alice licked her lips. "Something to plug the mouth?"
"Pacifiers. Good idea, honey."
"Some towels."
"Little Nev does make a mess."
"Sleeping Potions." Alice gestured at Frank and winked at Harry.
"Our little nightmare never lets us sleep a wink, so we'll definitely need those." Frank agreed.
Alice shivered, caressing her breasts, her head tossed back. "Such long, hard nights."
Harry grimaced.
I'm doing this for you, Nev, to bring back your mother.
Although it might be better if he didn't.
The fantasy of a loving mother might be better than the reality of the oversexed cheating minx.
"Thank you, Harry." Frank shook his hand, his eyes shining. "I can't tell you what it means — this whole situation is so scary and but I just know that I can trust you to take care of me and my wife."
Harry stopped himself from wincing. Was he sweating? He felt like he was sweating.
"You are an awful person." Mei Chang said flatly.
I'm doing this to revive her!
He looked at Alice over Frank's shoulder. She mouthed 'Fuck me' with glossy lips.
"I will take care of you both." Harry promised.
###
Lily stared at the fireplace blankly. Even with the diadem removed, some of its effects remained. She could think so fast it felt like her body was playing catch-up, so she sat down.
James was worried about her, because she did not talk, because her lips couldn't move as fast as her brain.
Her mind felt like a water valve opened…no, a dam broken. The river of intelligence broke free.
Her son, older, a time traveller.
What would make him do such a thing?
Danger.
A man in danger did dangerous things.
Danger from whom?
The obvious deduction.
Lord Voldemort.
He was in trouble. He needed help. And he could not ask for it because…
Lily closed her eyes. The truth she had been ignoring. The first time she'd met him, he'd looked at her like a boy who needed his mother. He'd trembled as he touched her, turning ghostly pale.
The obvious deduction.
He'd grown up without her parents.
Because she and James were now hiding away, because of a prophecy that would result in the Dark Lord coming for Harry.
Lily swallowed. The deduction was unpleasant, like corked wine on her tongue.
They had failed him. They had failed to protect their son.
Time travel was a fool's errand. The slightest change could bring ruin. Harry's aim — the reason he'd run from her — would be to change as little as possible.
She knew this.
And yet…
Her baby boy. So vulnerable, so desperate. She imagined him growing up alone, so eager for love.
Yes.
For her baby boy, she'd break every rule there was, and damn the consequences.
James' footsteps as he cautiously entered the room. "Lils? Sirius just left. He's agreed to be our Secret Keeper."
She looked at him. Her handsome husband. He would need convincing. It would take time. James and Sirius were practically brothers.
"James? I think we should change our Secret Keeper."
Time travels in mysterious ways. Sorry for the delay with this chapter, it's been difficult to post. Those here from AO3 - my work was removed, talking to AO3 team to try and get it put back up. Next chapter - it's all about Parvati and Padma.
Want to read a few chaps ahead and see art of the Indian twins? Check my Linktree below. As well as see 50+ art pieces, including the girls in saucy Halloween costumes, as well as fun little sexy story scenes.