Triplicity

by psalmuel

Harry, Daphne and Pansy try to navigate their lives after the war.

20. After-party

Afterparty

---

Harry

Sue practically crashed into him as she threw her arms around Harry, wrapping him in one of her signature tight hugs.

"You were brilliant, mate," she cheered, "good show!"

"Heh, thanks," he muttered a response, throwing one of his arms around her back in a quick return of the embrace, "I did try and make a bit of a show out of it, yeah?"

"Fuck, did you ever," Sue's voice dropped to a murmur into his ear, "your closing speech was a bit of a surprise, never figured you'd be such a romantic."

"I, er," Harry was confused, "what?"

"Made a bit of declaration, didn't you, lover?" Sue's eyes were glittering with mirth.

"Uhh," Harry tried to figure out what he'd said, exactly; the words had basically come to his mind and left his mouth in the same moment.

"Ssh," Sue pressed her finger against Harry's lips, and he tried to figure out what had led to this kind of behaviour, "don't worry, I'm just teasing you, love. Daph will explain, I'm sure, but you've gotta give her what she needs first."

He glanced over Susan's shoulder at Daphne, who was standing there with an intense look in her eyes, but he still hadn't quite managed to piece together what Sue was getting at.

"Err," he scratched at the back of his head, "okay? D'you need anything else from me, before I leave?"

"Hah!" Sue's laugh was louder than even her usual boisterousness, while the rest of her response was muttered at a confidential level of volume, "nah, mate, I'm good, I've got a whole trunk of toys upstairs, but your girlfriends are gonna want more than that, yeah?"

Oh. Ohhh.

He finally put the innuendo together, and felt a blush rising in his ears, as images of Susan came into his mind and were immediately chased away.

"Now get your arse home, Lord Potter-Black," Sue announced loudly, chuckling, batting him in the shoulder playfully, "we'll speak soon, I'm sure."

"Right, uh, yeah," he clumsily agreed, "night, Sue."

"Goodnight, Harry," she smirked.

Good thing I brought the bike, he mused, gonna need to cool off a bit, yeah?

The ride back to 12 Grimmauld Place did help to clear his thoughts somewhat, as Harry ran through the events of the evening. He still hadn't figured out whatever it was that was – apparently – important about the words he'd said after his duel, but it didn't really seem as if it was something to worry about.

Harry, being Harry, couldn't help but run through the events of the duel itself, trying to figure out if he'd been too easy on his opponents: he was pretty sure that he could have won the duel much more quickly than he actually had, and now he found himself wondering if he'd dragged things out for too long, sent the wrong message in doing so.

"First, we bow," he remembered, and shook his head to dispel both those thoughts and the shudder that they caused. Really wasn't the same, he rationalized, after all, they started it, not me.

He parked the magical motorcycle which had once belonged to Sirius in the open spot in the courtyard behind 12 Grimmauld, and made his way inside, ruminating only slightly as he walked up the steps and opened the back door.

As soon as he closed the door and set foot inside, he heard the crack of apparition, and an accompanying shock of surprise. No, wards are still up, he felt for the magic he'd placed around his home, that's gotta be Daph or Pansy.

Sure enough, his brief worries were immediately cast aside when Daphne rounded the corner, wearing a robe, as he kicked his shoes off.

"You," she spoke, her gaze just as intense as it had been at Sue's manor, "bed, now."

"Yeah, of course-" he started to answer, interrupted when she closed the distance to him, wrapping her arms around him, and the world spun as she apparated the pair of them upstairs to his bedroom.

"Hi?" Harry chuckled, as he spotted Pansy sitting on his bed, wearing a robe of her own. If Daphne's gaze was "intense", Pansy's was fierce.

Daphne shoved him against the wall as Pansy stood from her seat, and he sucked in a breath as both of his girlfriends shrugged their robes off, revealing the matching sets of lingerie they were wearing; thigh-high stockings attached to garter belts, which in turn connected to lacy, strappy bustiers. The clothes – if they could even be called that, considering how much they didn't cover – were bright red, matching the lipsticks that each woman wore.

Fucking hell, am I ever lucky.

Pansy, too, stepped forward, as both she and Daphne pressed into him, their lips brushing against either side of his neck as their hands began to roam up and down his torso.

"Fuck, you're amazing," Pansy whispered, beginning to unbutton his shirt.

"You're so strong, Harry," Daphne continued, as she pulled his cummerbund off, "so powerful."

He thought, for a moment, of protesting, but any words he was thinking were chased from his mind when Pansy nipped at the side of his neck at the same time as Daphne ran her tongue along the outside of his ear, replaced with a wordless groan from him instead.

"Feel," Pansy commanded, taking one of his hands in hers, pushing it between her legs. When he ran his finger along her naked sex, he could tell that she was soaking wet. Daphne pulled his shirt off, flinging it aside, as his girlfriends took him by the arms, turning him around and pushing him onto the bed. Before he could even sit back up, Pansy had grabbed the waistband of his trousers, pulling them free of his legs.

"Let us serve you," Pansy whispered into his ear, her fingernails tracing down his chest.

"Our Lord," Daphne practically moaned into his other ear, reaching down to grip his cock, which was already mostly hard from their onslaught of attention.

Fuck, Harry thought, I'm not… oh, fuck it. He put his insecurities aside for a moment, preferring to focus on Daphne's mouth against his own, their tongues meeting and sliding together, while Pansy kissed at his collarbone, then began to lick at his chest, tracing her own tongue over one of his nipples.

Daphne began to slowly stroke him as she nudged his legs further apart with her knee, providing the space for Pansy to continue her own journey downwards, where she now pressed loud, wet kisses against his abdomen.

"Fuck," Harry groaned, as Pansy positively nuzzled against his cock, rubbing her cheek against his length before she took it into her mouth, sucking at the head, her hands running up the insides of his thighs.

"Not yet," Daphne teased, as she, too, began to lower herself, pausing to flick her tongue over his other nipple, both of his girlfriends coming to kneel side-by-side between his legs at the side of the bed.

"Mmm," he moaned contentedly, reaching down to run his hands gently over the backs of their heads, as Pansy began to bob up and down on his cock, while Daphne licked and kissed at his shaft near the base.

The pair seemed to be on a mission, as Pansy reached over to guide Daphne lower, the blonde woman beginning to lick and suck at his balls as his brunette partner slid her mouth down his entire length, pressing her nose into the base of his pelvis as she deep-throated him.

When Pansy slid upwards, her mouth was followed by Daphne's tongue, licking torturously up from the middle of his balls along the underside of his shaft, and when Pansy released him with a pop, Daphne immediately took over, his cock entering her mouth without her even needing to use her hands.

"Fuck, that's really good," Harry praised them, as his girlfriends looked up at him from where they knelt, their eyes hooded with lust, slight blushes on each of their gorgeous faces.

They shifted positions, turning so that they were pressed together breast-to-breast, each woman opening their lips to slide along one side of his cock, creating a wet, pleasurable space between their mouths. Harry groaned again as he pushed his hips forward, thrusting back and forth in this impromptu grip made by their lips.

This position had another benefit, as he noted that each of his girlfriends had a hand between the others' legs; the hurried, twitching motions of their hands clearly indicating that they were fingering each other even as he (sort of) fucked both their faces at once. The trio's chemistry was on display once more as they easily fell into this unconventional but very pleasurable arrangement.

He sat back and let the women take charge when Pansy pressed her free hand into his hips, slowing his own short thrusts, and instead letting each woman nod their heads from side to side, continuing to stroke his member with their lips and tongues. It almost felt like he was in both of their mouths at the same time, Harry moaning again from this treatment, the erotic sight more than enough to compensate for the way that it wasn't quite as physically stimulating as a more conventional sort of blowjob.

"Getting close," he grunted, his pleasure only enhanced when Daphne had begun to moan against his cock, Pansy's digits proving to be as effective on her girlfriend as her mouth was on her boyfriend.

The pair shifted their positions once again, turning so that their faces were pressed against each other at an angle, their lips half-meeting in a messy kiss, and half wrapped around the tip of his cock. Each brought a hand up onto his shaft, wrapping their fingers together in a positively lewd form of "holding hands", beginning to stroke him together quickly, urgently.

Daphne and Pansy made wet, sloppy sounds as they kissed each other and his cock-head at the same time, his tip slapping noisily against their tongues and lips as their hands moved together, the sheer eroticism of the display – coupled with the way that they both moaned encouragements of "mhmm" or "mmm" – bringing him inevitably closer to climax.

He returned his hands to their heads, gently tangling his fingers through their hair as he felt lightning bolts of pleasure running through his lower body, and his girlfriends increased the pace at which they stroked him, the sordid slap-slap-slap of his cock against their tongues growing louder.

"Fuck!" Harry cried, as he came hard, shooting four long pulses of cum into their mouths, both of his girlfriends moaning eagerly as his climax erupted.

As much as he felt like flopping back onto the bed in the pleasant afterglow which followed his orgasm, Harry was enraptured by the way that Pansy and Daphne immediately turned to focus on each other once again, kissing messily and salaciously as their tongues danced together, strings of Harry's cum swapping back and forth between their mouths.

Daphne began to moan more loudly first, as Pansy's hand jerked back and forth between her legs, but Pansy was not far behind either, a high, almost whining sort of groan escaping from her lips as Daphne's own ministrations brought her towards her own climax.

Harry tightened his grip in each of their hair the slightest amount, wanting to help provide some additional stimulation (as much as he enjoyed being an audience), and this, apparently, was sufficient to bring each of his girlfriends to their peak, both crying out in a sequence so close it might well have been "simultaneous".

"Wow," he chuckled, as the pair disentangled from each other, all three flopping onto his bed, one of the women laying against either side of him.

"We're not done with you yet," Daphne spoke huskily, pressing a light kiss to his lips, "but we couldn't wait to spoil you any longer."

"Mm," Harry answered, gripping her arse with one hand, "can't say I'm complaining, but not sure why you think I should be spoiled."

"Because," Pansy's response was positively smoky in tone, "you're fucking amazing."

"I, er," Harry was distracted momentarily when Pansy nipped gently at his ear, "I didn't really do anything that impressive."

"Ssh," Daphne murmured, wiggling her hips under his hand, "now's not the time to be humble, Harry."

"Powerful magic users tend to attract… let's say 'allies'," Harry recalled Proudfoot's words to him, and felt an unsettling twist in the back of his mind.

"I'm just me," he grumbled, "I definitely don't need to be 'served' or anything, but I'm not saying no, it's just…"

"Harry," Pansy's tone was a bit sharper, "hush. It's okay if we want to make you the focus sometimes, you know?"

"Yeah, it's not that, it's, uh," Harry stumbled over the words, "I just don't want you to feel like you have to do anything for me, yeah? I don't expect this every time I sling some magic around or-"

He was interrupted by Pansy pressing her lips against his, pushing her tongue into his mouth, snogging him thoroughly in the middle of his sentence.

"Harry," Daphne spoke reassuringly, "you do have to remember that Pansy and I are witches. Like it or not, we're going to be impressed when you demonstrate your power, and that is not a bad thing, okay?"

"Mmmyeah," Harry answered her, as Pansy released his lips, "I'm not really explaining it well. I know I'm being a git, it's just, uh, the whole 'win a duel, get worshipped for it' thing kind of makes me worry that-eep!"

Once again, Pansy had moved to cut him off while he was talking, but this time she'd reached to tweak one of his nipples between her fingers, making him squirm.

"Oh, yes," she drawled, as she rolled off of him, Daphne helping her to push him further into the bed as she talked, "the Lord Potter-Black is such a mighty noble to serve under, and we are but naive, innocent witches who have been ensorcelled by your powers, you tyrant, you."

Before he could answer, she swung one of her legs over his shoulders, facing his lower body. She then hooked her heels behind his head, pulling his face up into her pussy, trapping him in the enjoyable prison of her soft thighs and smooth stockings.

"Daph," he heard her say, his ears pressed against her legs, "how many 'tyrants' you figure let their girlfriends sit on their face?"

"Hmm, can't say I've heard of any," Daphne's tone was cool, but Harry picked up the hint of mirth beneath the surface, as she played the "Ice Queen" role for his benefit, "though I'm not clear how this is relevant." Though he couldn't see her, he felt her weight settle over his lower body, and her hand wrapped around his cock again, stroking him idly, "I certainly don't see any tyrants here, just a couple of gorgeous, dangerous women about to ride this boy until they're done with him."

"I agree," Pansy pulled her heels tighter together, pressing Harry's face into her sex, "though he seems somewhat impertinent, doesn't he?"

Harry moaned as he felt Daphne sink onto his cock, and Pansy took advantage of how he opened his mouth, rocking her hips against his face in a way he couldn't ignore, as he began to eagerly lap at her pussy.

"That's a good boy," Pansy teased, continuing to writhe erotically overtop of him, as he moved so that he could grip her arse in one hand, Daphne's in the other.

Yeah, I'd be a bloody fool to worry about anything other than enjoying this.

He pushed his tongue inside Pansy in the way that he knew she liked, enjoying the slightly-bitter taste of her as he set about giving her the kind of pleasure that she deserved, letting himself relax as – somehow – her act of dominance had served to chase his worries from his mind.

Not that he remained entirely submissive, either, as he expected that this wasn't what either Pansy or Daphne wanted from him right now. He began to roll his hips up into Daphne, meeting her own down-strokes, and firmly grasped Pansy's arse, roughly squeezing her flesh.

Her arse isn't the biggest, he happily thought, but it's really nice. Harry certainly enjoyed how it filled his hands, soft and pliant under his fingers.

When he brought his hand down with a smack on her arse cheek, Pansy pitched forwards, and Harry heard her moans become muffled as – presumably – she began to kiss Daphne while the two women rode him at either end. The new angle allowed Harry to slide his hand over his face, inserting three fingers inside Pansy as he lapped at her clit.

He felt her legs beginning to twitch and quiver at the sides of his head, and he smirked in response. While he couldn't see Daphne riding him, he certainly felt her hot, wet pussy wrapping around his cock, and the delicate sensation of Pansy's fingers bumping into the base of his shaft probably meant that she'd started to play with Daphne's clit.

Harry let himself become lost in the moment, as the three of them formed a rough triangle (as they often did during sex); Daphne and Pansy connected with a kiss, while Harry was connected more intimately to each of his girlfriends. The three of them certainly fit together, and Harry was struck once more at how phenomenally lucky he was to have two incredible women in his life.

"Pans," Daphne whined above him, "I'm cloooose."

"Good girl," Pansy's response was teasing, "I'm getting theeere-"

Harry had chosen this moment to pull his fingers out of her sex, replacing their absence with his tongue, while pressing one of his fingertips – still slick from Pansy's wetness – against her arsehole. While Harry wasn't really wild about anal sex (he certainly enjoyed it, but he'd probably stick to conventional methods if left to his own devices), one of the things that Pansy had revealed as their relationship developed was that she was quite a fan of this sort of stimulation.

She was certainly the most enthusiastic of the trio about rimming (giving and receiving), so when Harry attacked her weak point in this manner, pushing his finger inside her arse up to the second knuckle, it was more than enough to push her from "close" to "cumming hard".

Pansy practically crushed his head between her thighs as she tensed up, his face pushed into her cunt in a way that he loved. When she recovered, he felt her fingers increasing their pace at Daphne's clit, and Harry obliged his lovers by pumping his own hips upwards, slamming his hips into Daphne's with a steady clap, clap, clap sound.

He felt her clench around him, and then a hot spray on his lower torso, as she orgasmed in turn, squirting from the attention of both of her lovers.

The two women flopped off of him, both rolling to one side, so that Pansy was now in the middle between Daphne and himself.

"Haaaaarry," Pansy whined, "you didn't cum again yet."

"I 'spose I should fix that," he chuckled, a smirk on his face, as he felt more confident. He rolled onto his side, curiously watching as Pansy and Daphne clambered together, arranging themselves so that Pansy laid with her back to Daphne's chest, one atop the other.

As he arranged himself between both of their legs, he thought that he understood what they had in mind: the women had positioned themselves so that their hips were roughly aligned, which – when considering that she was a fair bit shorter than Daph – meant that Pansy's head rested under and to the side of Daphne's chin, both of Harry's girlfriends staring up at him expectantly.

That's a fucking brilliant sight, Harry thought, as his eyes trailed from between their spread legs, where he could see both of their dripping pussies, to their chests, to their glittering eyes fixed on him.

"Daph first," Pansy ordered, "c'mere."

Harry lined himself up once more at Daphne's entrance, then pushed forward, groaning in satisfaction as he returned to her slick pussy. He lowered himself, laying overtop of his partners (sandwiching Pansy between himself and Daphne somewhat) as he began to thrust in and out of the blonde once again.

They both reached to pull his head closer to theirs, pinning Harry's face against the side of Daphne's neck, his girlfriends whispering in his ears, kissing at his neck, and nipping under his jaw in concert.

"Don't you dare cum outside her," Pansy commanded in one ear.

Daphne very much agreed, telling him to "cum inside me, Harry, please!" in his other ear.

The sheer amount of sensation he felt - from the skin-on-skin embrace they both wrapped around him, to the continuous stream of begging and encouragements they spoke, the gentle tracing of their hands and quick kisses against his neck – was very nearly enough to overwhelm him.

When Pansy murmured "fill her up" and followed it by biting his earlobe, it did. He shuddered, groaning loudly as he came, his hips pistoning against Daphne's the whole time. His cock slipped wetly from her, and Pansy swiftly reached down, taking his still-erect member in hand and angling him towards her sex.

"Come on, Harry," Daphne licked the side of her neck, "give her your cum, do it."

He was excruciatingly sensitive as he slid inside of Pansy's tight pussy, every feeling magnified a dozen times, barely even able to believe that he could keep going immediately after his orgasm.

I guess that's the power they have over me, he thought, hazily, as he continued to thrust, now penetrating his other girlfriend.

"Fuck yes, yes, yes," Pansy groaned into his ear, as he reached to slide his hand first to Daphne's breast, then to Pansy's, taking full advantage of the proximity the three shared, "give it to me, Harry."

Over-stimulated and over-sensitive, he didn't last long inside of her, but he didn't need to.

He cried out a wordless moan as he came for the second time within minutes, granting Pansy's request, giving her everything he had left. The strength fled from his body at the same time, as he slumped over his girlfriends in a haze, the two of them cooing delightedly and peppering him with quick kisses.

"Fuck," he grinned, rolling to the side, not wanting to crush Daphne too badly under the weight of both her partners.

It seemed, however, that his girlfriends weren't quite finished, as Pansy rolled herself around, writhing in a way that was more graceful than it should have been, repositioning herself so that hers and Daphne's legs were interlocked, their pussies pressing together.

"Merlin," Harry spoked, his voice hushed with awe and lust, "that's so fucking hot."

"Mm," Pansy murmured, "it's not like I can cum inside her, but I'm happy to share, just the way she likes…"

Harry rolled to his knees, clambering behind Pansy as she ground against Daphne, reaching around to pinch one of her pierced nipples. Underneath the two of them, Daphne just moaned, her hands slapping the sheets, grabbing at the fabric as she thrashed about in ecstasy.

"Pansy!" Daphne cried, plaintively, as she spasmed, the pornographic way that they ground their sexes together, covering each other in Harry's cum, clearly helping to fulfill that particular kink of hers.

"Think you can cum like this?" Harry murmured into Pansy's ear, pulling her close against himself.

"I'm pretty close," she admitted, breathily, and Harry reached around her, bringing his hand over her neck.

He knew that this was a particular kink of Pansy's, and since she'd been so obliging of Daphne's own desires, he figured it was only fair to gratify her in kind: Harry tightened his grip, gently choking her (while being entirely conscious of that particular contradiction), and he felt the motions of her hips become more frantic, less skillful.

Harry leaned in to bite the side of her neck that wasn't under his fingers, sucking her skin under his lips, certainly leaving a hickey for tomorrow.

"Fuck!" Pansy shrieked, before her body tensed, and Harry felt the skin under his mouth flush hot.

As the three slowly untangled their limbs from each other, Harry fell into the bed first, Pansy scrambling to his other side before she flung herself down in turn. They all sat there for a few minutes in silence, their breaths coming quickly, as they recovered from their exertion.

"Fuck," Daphne repeated a common phrase, "we're really good at that."

"Absolutely," Pansy drawled, tracing her fingertips over Harry's chest, "that was intense."

"You two," Harry exhaled heavily, "are fucking amazing. Really. More than just the shagging, even."

"You're not bad yourself, Harry," Daphne teased, "not a lot of men could perform like that, yeah?"

"Mm," Pansy joined in with teasing him, "that's our boy, he's exceptional in all regards."

"Thanks," Harry rolled his eyes while he smiled, "just glad I can live up to being the great-and-powerful Harry Potter, and all that."

"Hmm, Daph?" Pansy ignored him.

"Mmm?"

"What're some of the reasons that you like this dumb brute over here?"

"Well," Daphne rolled onto her side, turning to face Harry, as she tapped her finger against her chin as if she was in thought, "it's nice that he always looks out for us, really. I can get myself worried about a lot of things, but he has a way of being reassuring just by being himself. He's got good taste in music, and I always enjoy when he shows me a film that he likes. Maybe it's a bit silly, but I find it rather attractive that he's a good cook, and knows how to mix a pretty good cocktail. You?"

"It's surprising, really, but at some point the man figured out how to be stylish," Pansy started to walk her fingers up his chest, as Harry blushed, "I suppose that I could admit that he's got some basic sort of wit about him, despite how utterly thick he can be, he seems to keep up with me pretty well. He shoots firewhisky like an absolute champ, but I've never had to worry that he's going to be mean to me. And," she reached between his legs, making Harry jump, "he's got a pretty great cock."

"That he does!"

"Thanks," Harry struggled to find words for a moment, "I, uh… thanks. You two are both brilliant, you don't have to be that nice to me."

Pansy smacked his chest, but she giggled when she did so.

"It might surprise you," Daphne teased, kissing the side of his head, "but what Pansy is getting at is that there's a lot of different reasons we like you, Harry."

"Yeah," Pansy admitted, but she reached up to tug on his hair anyways, "so, you absolute lummox, I'll have no more of this whole 'what if I am too powerful?' business out of you. We're allowed to be impressed by the whole 'rich and powerful' thing sometimes, but it doesn't mean I'm going to take it easy on you, and it sure fucking isn't the reason we're dating you, you oaf."

"Yeah, I know," Harry smiled, as he felt reassured that he did know this, "I just don't want to wind up going down any… bad paths, y'know? It feels a bit too good to be in a fight, and I've seen where that leads to."

"Once again," Daphne took her turn to gently tweak at his ear, "I hardly think that some burgeoning Great and Terrible Lord of Magic would get so embarrassed about being recognized for his accomplishments. You're lucky that it's pretty endearing, though."

"I just know that," Harry waved his hands in the air, wiggling his fingers, "something about magic tends to, I dunno, attract people to me. I know that's not the reason I'm with you two, but it's something that bothers me if I think about it too much."

"Ah, of course," Pansy's sarcasm was painfully obvious, "magic itself has decided to build a network of loyal followers for you, which is precisely the reason that you find yourself dating two women who are entirely unwilling to put up with you being a prat."

"Well, when you put it like that…" Harry chuckled.

"If people do follow you," Daphne patted his hair, "it's because you're someone worth following. But if you think that you've somehow manipulated Pansy and myself into falling for you, then Harry, I have to be blunt: you are nowhere near talented enough to manipulate either of us, let alone both."

"You two," Harry lowered his arms, wrapping them around each of his girlfriends, "are the absolute best. Really."

"I suppose that's another quality I enjoy about you," Pansy yawned, "you at least have some modicum of common sense."

"I happen to agree with him," Daphne reached across him to stroke Pansy's cheek, "you are pretty brilliant."

"'Course I am," Pansy murmured, clearly becoming sleepy, "it's you two who are my prizes, remember."

Harry felt a sense of contentment fall over him, as the afterglow began to win out over the excitement of the evening. He barely remembered to set a waking alarm for the morning before sleep finally overtook him.

Unfortunately, he hadn't even made it to the waking charm's time of activation, as Kreacher had shrieked his presence at nine in the bloody morning, entirely stealing Harry's hopes to sleep in away from him.

"Right, yes, very good," Harry muttered to the senile House Elf as he'd been rattling off a series of reports regarding the current number of spiders living in the basement, "I wish for you to… reorganize the library, starting by the author's last name, and then by the year of publication."

"Very wise, young master," Kreacher wheezed, "many useful spells, the Black books have! You will find the books you needs!"

Fuck, that should keep him busy the next few days, at least.

Harry sometimes almost managed to forget that Kreacher still prowled around 12 Grimmauld Place, but he had begrudgingly admitted that the ancient House Elf was shockingly happy with the way that Harry periodically ordered him around. He'd never understand (nor did he think he could – Kreacher seemed alien even in comparison to the other elves he'd met) how the being's mind worked, but he had stopped feeling guilty about Kreacher's lot in life years ago.

When he'd explained to Kreacher that he was entering Pansy and Daphne into his wards, the old elf had been nearly overcome with emotion, crying that Harry was "a most proper Lord of Black".

The way he'd asked about "what about the other womens?", on the other hand, was as baffling as it was unsettling.

As Harry begrudgingly admitted that he was awake, he took a moment to gaze fondly at his two girlfriends, who had been lucky enough to have slept through Kreacher's announcement. He deactivated his waking charm, deciding to let the women rest a bit longer, as Harry crawled out of bed, pulling a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt on.

He started his morning with a slow jog around the grounds of 12 Grimmauld Place, having realized the night before that while he still possessed the same speed he had as a teenager, his overall endurance wasn't quite up to par. In addition to that more practical concern, Harry also figured that if his girlfriends continued to be as enthusiastic in the bedroom as they'd been of late (which was the exact opposite of a problem), that he'd have to make damn certain he could keep up.

Chugging a glass of orange juice in the kitchen, he couldn't wipe the smile from his face as the night before replayed in his memories, grateful all over again for Daphne and Pansy's presence in his life. He'd never been the sort to compare this relationship with his one previous experience, but if he had to think about it, he already knew that they both understood him in some way which had simply never been present when he'd dated Gin.

Not that he was bitter – far from it – merely content in the fact that they had both, apparently, managed to find people who fit them much better than he had with her.

He checked the time, and decided to go for a shower before waking the girls up, still having plenty of time before his scheduled firecall with Hermione.

When he emerged from the shower, Daphne had already woken up, smiling at him as she sat beside the bed, brushing her long hair.

"Hey," she greeted, "you get up early?"

"Yeah, Kreacher decided to show up an hour or so back, and I decided to start my morning from there. Would you like a tea?"

"That'd be lovely! I'll wake up this one here," she gestured to Pansy, who remained solidly unconscious, sprawled across the middle of the bed as if she owned it, "and we'll be down in a few!"

Harry moved around the kitchen, preparing a light breakfast to accompany Daphne's cup of tea, and the cups of coffee he prepared for Pansy and himself. Don't know how she can drink this, he thought, amused, as he added the obscene amount of sugar to Pansy's in the way she enjoyed.

"Mmmthanks," the woman in question slurred, taking her coffee from Harry in a clumsy, still half-asleep way.

"Cheers," Daphne replied in kind as he passed her tea to her in turn.

"Y'were up early?" Pansy mumbled.

"Yeah, decided to go for a jog," Harry answered.

"Why?" Pansy's confusion was evident and adorable.

"Well, uh," Harry flipped a series of eggs off the pan and onto plates, "magic can't do it all, yeah? I've got to stay fit somehow."

"We should do yoga some time," Daphne continued, "I'm hardly an expert, but that's usually what I stick to."

"Ugh," Pansy rolled her eyes, "you two are a terrible influence."

"How's that?" Harry grinned, as he served the plates of food across the table.

"You've got me thinking of exercising," Pansy grumbled, "like some sort of peasant."

"I mean, it's something I enjoy doing," Daphne shrugged, "you've no obligation to join me, of course."

"No, no," Pansy took a deep drink of coffee, "it's something I already thought about. Oh, yeah! Harry!"

"Mm?"

"I want you to teach me how to fight!"

"You what?" he asked, baffled.

"Yeah," Pansy nodded to herself, "not that I'm expecting to need it or anything, but when I saw you and Bones duelling last night, I realized I've seriously been slacking on that front."

"I mean, sure?" Harry shrugged, "I'm happy to give some pointers, if you want, but I'm not exactly a great teacher or anything."

Pansy merely snorted in reply, leading Harry to quirk an eyebrow at her.

"You've got a lot of hidden talents," Daphne explained, "teaching seems to be one of them! If you're offering, I'd be interested in that as well."

"Why?" Harry blamed his befuddlement on it still being the morning, "I mean, yeah? I think I'm just missing something."

"Bones put up a pretty good show last night, yeah?" Pansy dunked a piece of toast (halfway to burnt, as per her preference) into an egg (nearly raw, as per the same) as she elaborated, "and who taught her how to fight?"

"Well, I assume that her Aunt did," Harry shrugged, "but I guess I taught her some of the basics, back in school. I'm still not getting it."

"I don't know about Pans," Daphne answered this time, "but for me, I realized that I'd been neglecting my development as a witch, and I want to correct that."

"Mhmm," Pansy hummed her agreement with her mouth full.

"Sure?" Harry piled an egg on top of a piece of toast for himself, "I'm happy to, if that's something you two are interested in."

"The thing you talked about, last night," Daphne continued, "about magic attracting 'followers'? It's not wrong, per se, but I don't think you're picturing it the right way. The leading theory in Pureblood circles is that an individual's magic is somewhat of an aura around them, rather than being contained to their person alone."

"Oh," Harry didn't get it, "that means…?"

"If we keep spending time with you," Pansy interjected, "for some foolish reason or another," she winked at Daphne when the blonde knocked her leg into Pansy's as a gentle admonishment, "then it's not unreasonable to expect that we both might get stronger in our own magic."

"Huh," Harry had never heard this theory, "I didn't know about that, but, yeah, makes some kind of sense, I suppose."

"It's like," Daphne scrunched her face up in thought, looking far prettier while doing so than she had any right to, "you know how someone's Patronus can change when they get married? The idea is that that happens because the couple's magic blends together."

"Ah, yeah, I know about that."

"Which reminds me…" Daphne peered at him over her cup of tea, "got a dragon Patronus now, have you?"

"Apparently," Harry shrugged, "not too sure about that one myself. I figure it's because I was wearing dragonhide at the time."

"Mm," Daphne continued to ponder this for a moment, "that's possible, I suppose. It's very rare for a Patronus to change in general, and as far as I know, you haven't married any dragons behind our back, have you?"

"Heh," Harry chuckled, "not as such, no. Actually…" he smacked his head, in realization, "well, uh, the tattoo I've got of the dragon I slayed? It was done with his blood, yeah?"

"That might explain it," Daphne shrugged, not overly bothered, "it's usually associated with a 'rebirth' of some sort, but that makes more sense."

Harry felt a chill run down his spine that he quickly dismissed, putting that conversation with his girlfriends aside for some time far, far in the future.

"When're you calling Hermione?" Pansy interjected, apparently bored with the more academic topic.

"In about," Harry checked, "half an hour. You staying around?"

"I've nothing else to do this week," Pansy teased him, "my schedule's allll open for you two."

"Shame about the Weasley's Christmas party," Daphne replied, "it would have been fantastic to see Pansy squirming around there."

"Ah, yeah," Harry shrugged. Ron had given him a heads-up the week before that Bill would, in fact, be attending the yearly party, and what's more that he was bringing Lavender with him; while Harry didn't have any hard feelings for his former classmate, he knew that she could not be trusted to keep the secret of his, Daphne's, and Pansy's relationship.

When it came time for Hermione's incoming call, Harry had made himself a second cup of coffee (Daphne and Pansy had insisted that they clean the kitchen, not that it was a significant undertaking with magic and all), seated in front of his fireplace.

"Good morning, Harry!" his friend's familiar face announced, "how did it go? Were there any notable events to report? Were you able to scope out the general level of support for Cyrus's bill?"

As efficient as always, 'mione.

"Right, uh, yeah, you could say that," Harry sipped his coffee, "wound up fighting a duel last night."

"Harry!" her tone was half-admonishing, half-excited, "why? Who did you fight? You won, I presume?"

"Well, that's the thing," Harry shrugged, "it seems like there was a little plot to target Sue. The Lords Burke, Selwyn, and Yaxley all picked fights with her, then they called in Seconds to try and duel her instead."

"That's odd," Hermione frowned, "Susan's competency in duelling is well established by now. Who do you believe was the ringleader?"

"Who else? Cyrus, obviously."

"Even more odd, his typical maneuvers usually revolve around trading favours, not duelling."

"Yeah, dunno," Harry shrugged again, one of his more frequent gestures when talking about complicated topics with Hermione, "Susan took down Burke's champion, and I handled the rest. Well, uh, I duelled the Lords too."

"How did you manage to pull that off?" Hermione shook her head, only slightly ruefully, "I'm no expert, but wouldn't she have needed a second, er, Second to stand in for one of them?"

"Well, I challenged them all at once," Harry smirked, "it worked out."

Hermione took a moment to process this answer, before she actually giggled in laughter.

"You would! That's fantastic! How did you win? Were any of them competent?"

"Disarmament, and no, not really," Harry grinned, "Sue got the worst of it, the bloke she duelled was actually pretty decent. Leon-something von Krafft?"

"Haven't heard the name," Hermione admitted not knowing something, "from the continent, I take it?"

"Yeah, German, or Austrian? Didn't really catch it."

"Babe!" Hermione cried over her shoulder, as Harry's grin became malicious, catching his friend using a pet name for Viktor, "question for you!"

After a short delay, Viktor's face appeared beside Hermione's.

"Harry!" he cried, "good to see you! Who was the man you fought?"

"Susan fought him, not me," Harry explained, "Leon von Krafft?"

"Oh, very good!" Viktor exclaimed, "he is a man of some renown, yes. Did she win?"

"Yeah, it didn't look easy, but she pulled it off."

"Excellent! I duelled him once myself, as an informal challenge, yes?"

"Oh?" Harry was curious about this.

"Yes! A fine opponent, but not, of course, up to the standard of a Triwizard champion." Viktor's grin – displayed through the green flames in Harry's fireplace – was enormous.

"That'll be good for Sue's reputation, then," Harry nodded, "thanks, Viktor!"

"Of course!" he disappeared once again.

"So, babe, what else do you need to know?" Harry smirked, as Hermione immediately became flustered.

"Well, if you spent the night duelling, I'm not expecting that you got a great understanding of the more subtle currents. Were there any other events of note?"

"Er," Harry recalled something, then stopped, feeling embarrassed.

"Er?"

"Well, at the end of the duel, I made an announcement that I was officially one of Sue's allies," Harry scratched the back of his head, "I didn't think it was exactly unknown to anyone, but Sue sure implied that I made pants of the phrasing somehow."

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Is Daphne around?"

"Yeah…" Harry grimaced; if Hermione wanted to speak to Daphne instead of him, it meant that he'd really made pants of it, "hey, Daph?" he called out.

His girlfriend appeared in short order, wandering out of the kitchen towards the fireplace.

"Good morning, Hermione!" Daphne cheerfully greeted her, "what did you want to ask?"

"Your boyfriend here mentioned that he made an announcement of some sort," Harry felt a chill as Hermione's judging gaze turned to him, "would you please explain what he means by that?"

"Oh, right!" Daphne giggled, and Harry's chills doubled when she turned to him with a gleam in her eye, "my boyfriend, brilliant man that he is, announced his intention to court Susan Bones."

"I what!?" Harry cried, half-standing from his seat.

"When you announced that you, Lord Potter-Black, stood beside Lady Susan Bones," Daphne smirked at him as he struggled, "in traditional Pureblood etiquette, you proclaimed that your Houses were considering a merger, and there's only one way that two single Heads of House would pull that off."

"I, uh… fuck," Harry cursed, "I didn't mean it that way! I thought it was like when I declared that Hermione was an ally of my Houses!"

"Harry…" Hermione's admonishment was clear from her tone, "declaring something for your House is different than declaring it for you, you should know that by now."

"Shite, shite, shite," Harry began to panic, "is this a problem? Have I fucked things up?"

"Daphne?" Hermione asked.

"Hardly," Daphne grinned, reaching out to ruffle his hair and calming him down only slightly, "I know you didn't exactly plan it out, but this is actually quite a brilliant maneuver, all things considered."

"But, Sue…" Harry frowned. The redhead had told him not to worry about it, so at least she wasn't reading too much into his apparent declaration, right?

"Sue's well aware of the need to be cautious about how relationships are portrayed," Daphne smiled, "it'll actually be okay, I'm just teasing you. It's something we can use."

"What do you think the advantages are?" Hermione asked, and Harry could tell that she was taking notes on this.

"Well, it's a bit more calculated than we really planned, but that's almost why it worked out," Daphne pulled a chair up beside Harry, "by publicly aligning himself with Susan, Harry has both provided a reason for why he stepped in to duel for her and created a voting bloc centred around the two of them. It gets ahead of rumours or gossip and turns it into a form of strength."

"I can see that," Hermione nodded, "but wasn't Harry supposed to be portraying himself as single? I'm not saying I'm a fan of it, but his so-called 'bachelor eligibility' was supposed to be something we're using."

"That's the clever bit," Daphne smirked, "you know Susan's 'reputation' among the Traditionalists, yeah?"

"That they're bigoted and look down on her for being gay?"

"That's the one, unfortunately. Well, Harry just dismantled that reputation by accident, and he instead created a new one for her, one where she'll be seen as the competent navigator of politics that she is."

"How's that?" Harry was at a loss.

"Well," Daphne blushed a bit as she turned to him, "you know how I was technically Susan's 'date' last night, right?"

"Yeah?" Harry couldn't puzzle this out. He knew that Susan certainly enjoyed flirting with Daphne, but he didn't think that this was actually a thing, let alone something they could take advantage of in public.

"As far as the crusty old Purebloods will see it," Daphne's blush only intensified, "well, it'll be that Susan was doing her duty as a woman potentially-betrothed to you; they're going to believe that she was courting different women on your behalf, seeking out a second wife for one of your two houses."

"That's…" Harry was at a loss for words.

"That's terrible," Hermione wasn't, "but if we can use their prejudice against them, then I see what you mean."

"Actually…" Daphne pondered something, before she called into the kitchen herself, "Pansy! You should be part of this!"

Pansy looked amused as she joined her partners, not really expecting to be part of this debrief.

"Good morning, Pansy," Hermione greeted her politely.

"Morning, Granger," Pansy replied.

"I told you that I'd rather you call me Hermione," the bushy-haired witch frowned.

"Oh, I'm aware… Granger," Pansy smirked.

Daphne reached behind herself to pinch Pansy's arse, who yelped but did not stop smirking.

"She's only doing it because it annoys you," Daphne explained, "anyways, I had an idea, if you're both okay with it…"

"Oh?" Pansy quirked an eyebrow.

"Okay, so, you know how Harry declared that he was courting Susan?" Daphne asked, and Pansy just nodded in response. Harry felt at least three times more like a prat than he already did. "Well, if we play it like I'm being courted as a potential second wife…"

"That's brilliant," Pansy grinned widely, "your dad would hate that, and it kneecaps him from being able to act too publicly against Harry, since the entire world could see that you'd be a good fit for him."

"You are a good fit for me," Harry protested, "what about Pansy?"

"No, no," Pansy crossed the room to run her fingers through his hair, just like Daphne had, "it's not about going public with our actual relationship, it's about pretending that you're pursuing Daphne, but as if it isn't a sure thing yet."

"That has a lot of benefits," Hermione agreed, "it would probably wind up convincing some of the more traditionalist sort that you're one of them, Harry."

"Well," Pansy interjected, "the mood among that type is mixed, right now. The divorce part of the bill is surprisingly popular on both sides, yeah? It's going to be a hard sell to vote against that."

"That's good to know, thank you, Pansy," Hermione's head turned down, and Harry could swear that he heard the scribbling of her pen, "this is very informative. I've got quite a few ideas, but I'll need to put them together. We've got about two months until the Wizengamot reconvenes, yes? Let's meet in the new year, go over some of our angles of approach."

"Works for me," Harry muttered, still confused at how he'd – apparently – managed to bumble his way into a masterful scheme.

"Oh, and we'll need to involve Susan now, obviously," Hermione added, "very good! Harry, I'll see you tomorrow night, right?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed, as he was still planning to attend the Weasleys' party, "sounds good."

"Excellent! Have a good morning, you three!" Hermione's face faded from the fireplace.

"Look at our boy," Pansy drawled, "accidentally playing politics. Harry Potter just can't fail, hey?"

"Oh, hush," Daphne giggled, "but it's true, Harry, don't stress out over this. It changes things a bit, but for the best."

"If you say so," he sulked, but he was reassured by Daphne's insistence. He couldn't believe that he'd functionally proposed to Sue in public, but he was at least grateful that his friend wouldn't interpret it in the way that others might have.

"So," Pansy began, "what've you two got going on today? I'm going to swing by the shop for a bit, but I was thinking we could do dinner and a movie, maybe?"

"I'm meeting my cousin for a pint or two," Harry replied, "but other than that, I'm free."

"I should stop by my place," Daphne answered, "but yes, I think that sounds lovely!"

"Great!" Pansy leaned in between the two of them, kissing each in short order, "let us know when you're done, Harry, and I'll come back."

Harry smiled, returning to his earlier state of contentment.

I guess these are some happy holidays, finally.

---

Harry

The pub was not altogether dissimilar to the Leaky Cauldron, but the way that various Christmas songs were played loudly enough to stop just short of "uncomfortable" was one immediate difference, the loud energy of the various groups of people seated together serving to demonstrate the openness of Muggle culture, when compared to the world that Harry lived in now.

He sat in a corner booth, slowly nursing a pint of brown ale, waiting for the arrival of his cousin. He'd been amused when he realized that the waitress who'd brought him a beer was returning to check on him so frequently not because she was concerned, but because she was flirting with him, the way that he'd been noticed by someone who had no idea who he was a bit of a boost to his confidence.

Not that I need much more confidence, he mused to himself, it was way too easy to slip into that whole "Lord Potter-Black" act as it is.

Dudley's arrival was unignorable; while his cousin was never exactly going to be a slim man, he'd done a lot to shed the pudginess of his youth, replacing it with a burly sort of build, no doubt aided by his work as a construction foreman. Harry thought that there was a vague resemblance to Greg Goyle, now that he'd also reacquainted himself with that former enemy, and he found it strangely reassuring that two of his former bullies were now counted somewhere among his friends.

"Harry!" Dudley announced himself, brushing some snowflakes from his short hair, "good to see you, mate!"

"You too, Duds," Harry smiled, standing from his seat to embrace his cousin in a very manly sort of hug, slapping each other's backs enthusiastically, "how's things?"

"Ah, it's the slow season, innit?" Dudley seated himself, as the overly-friendly waitress returned to take his order, "but can't complain. Put an offer in on a house, yeah?"

"That's fantastic!" Harry raised his glass in cheers to his cousin, clinking their pints together, "how's Jessica?"

"Oh, she's good, she's good," Dudley's blush was not something that Harry would have ever expected to see when they'd been younger, but from everything that Harry could tell, his cousin remained obviously adoring of his girlfriend, even after they'd been together for a couple of years.

Good for him!

Harry had only met Dudley's girlfriend a couple of times, and while he wouldn't ever really picture himself hanging out with her (nice girl, but Merlin does she never shut up), her unrelenting energy and cheerfulness had seemed to inspire a sort of steady confidence in his cousin.

"In fact, er," Dudley's blush intensified, "I'm thinking of popping the question soon, yeah?"

"Oh?" Harry smiled widely, "that's great news, Duds! Y'figure she's the one, hey?"

"Can't imagine living without her," Dudley chuckled, "she even gets along well enough with mum, if you could picture it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Won't talk about mum and dad too much," Dudley shrugged, "they're… well, they're mum and dad, you know how it is."

"Well, I'm glad to hear," Harry may have maintained a relationship with his cousin after he'd eventually got past his life at Number 4 Privet Drive, but his aunt and uncle remained out of his life. Still, he was willing to engage in some small talk about them, not so unforgiving as to expect Dudley to ignore his own parents, "Vernon still at the firm?"

"Fuck, dad should've retired ages ago," Dudley shrugged again, "but, yeah. They still spend most their time trying to run the neighbourhood, can't say much has changed there."

While Harry certainly appreciated the number of people who'd proven to have grown and bettered themselves over the years, he also found it somewhat comforting, in a strange way, that not everyone had changed their spots.

"How 'bout you, Harry? How's things in your world?"

The phrasing was certainly ambiguous enough that nobody overhearing would find it odd, but Harry still felt compelled to cast an extremely subtle muffliato charm silently, not really wanting to put the effort in to ensuring that every word from his mouth was Muggle-approved.

"Well, mostly I'd say same story, different faces. It's a bit of a clusterfuck right now, honestly, but it's all politics and that sort of bullshite."

"Not, er," Dudley frowned, "the way it was before, yeah?"

"Nah, nowhere near that bad," Harry took a pull of his ale, "more a bunch of old money acting out, not changing with the times."

"Yeah, I know the sort too," Dudley agreed, "well, not the same, obviously, but prats with more money than sense, yeah? They're a right pain in the arse, but they pay bloody well, at least."

"Something like that," Harry smirked, "I'm trying to build something too, in a way, I suppose, but it's a bloody dog and pony show trying to get it all to work out."

"How's that? I don't mind if I don't really get it, yeah?"

"Well, uh," Harry double-checked the surroundings, "y'know how they keep track of who's part of what family, who's married to who, all that?"

"Kinda like royalty, that," Dudley smirked, "aren't you basically a Duke or something, yeah?"

"Heh, something like that," Harry chuckled, "well, the old money's got themselves all knotted up, they're trying to start controlling who marries who. It's a pain in my arse, and trying to convince them not to make a horror-show out of the whole thing is even worse."

It was easier for Harry to talk about his recent frustrations with Dudley, because while his cousin didn't understand the intricacies of Pureblood culture and Wizarding laws (nor was he even aware of them), he definitely knew how annoying it was to deal with people who'd rather stick to "tradition" rather than actually allow people to be happy.

"What, like you might have to marry some rich old bird?" Dudley grinned, "doesn't sound too bad to me, y'know."

"You might not think that if you saw some of these women…" Harry grumbled.

"Well, I mean, I can't say I really get it, but it seems like it can't be that bad. You look good, mate, seems like you're more relaxed these days even with rich prats being dickheads."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, "I can't say it's ideal or anything, but I'm doing pretty alright."

"You seein' someone, yeah?" Dudley smiled easily. His cousin may not have been the most academic sort, but Dudley had a way of seeing through Harry's vague allusions to his social life in a surprising way.

"Yeah," Harry smiled, the answer coming easily, "I am, actually."

"What's her name?"

"Well, er," it was Harry's turn to blush now, "that's the thing… there's two of them?"

"You dog," Dudley grinned widely, chucking Harry in the shoulder playfully, "didn't know that was a thing for you lot!"

"It's not really common," Harry shrugged, "but, well, it seems like I'm not really the most normal sort, even in my lot."

"So?"

"Yeah?"

"So what're their names, Romeo?"

"Right," Harry ran a hand through his hair, "well, one's named Pansy, the other's Daphne."

"Why, Harry," Dudley raised his glass in cheers again, "those names sound right 'normal', don't they? I was expecting somethin' like your friend, Hermey-none or however it was."

"Hermione was born in regular old Britain, y'know," Harry chuckled, "but yeah, some names get… creative."

"Got a picture, or anything?"

Harry had, in fact, prepared for this question, producing an entirely non-magical picture that he'd taken of his girlfriends. Dudley whistled, impressed.

"They're right fit, good on you, mate!" his brow furrowed in thought, "y'know, I think I recognize the brunette, which one is she?"

"That's Pansy."

"Yeah, can't say I'm certain of it," Dudley muttered, "but a few years back, I think I saw her get kicked out of a club, she was certainly yelling about, uh," he glanced around, before whispering "Muggles."

"Yeah? I could see that," Harry chuckled, "she was one of the bad crowd for a while, sounds like something she might do."

"A few of your uh, coppers showed up, they let me go when I told them who you were," Dudley cracked another grin, "pays to have friends in high places, doesn't it?"

That explains why he wasn't obliviated after Pans broke the Statute of Secrecy, Harry realized.

"One of the bad lot, was she?" Dudley handed the photo back to Harry, "how'd that work out?"

"Funny thing, that," Harry grinned widely at the memory, "she spent years making fun of me, going at me every time we were at an event together. Took me ages to realize that that's how she flirts."

"Seems to be going well for you," Dudley, once more, clinked his glass to Harry's, "seriously, Harry, you look like you're doin' great. Haven't seen you this happy in, well, ever, to be honest."

"They're brilliant," Harry agreed, "I don't think I have been happier, really."

"It's like Jess says," Dudley smiled wisely, "takes a good woman to keep a bloke in line, yeah? It figures that you'd need more than one to keep you on the right path."

"Hey, I haven't knocked anyone out in, uh, a few days…"

The two men laughed at this, finishing their pints, continuing to trade light-hearted jokes as they caught up over the next couple of hours. When it came time for both to depart, Dudley brought Harry into another tight hug, recommending "Love Actually" as an appropriately Christmassy film that Harry could watch with his girlfriends.

Don't think it'd be to their taste, not much for rom-coms, those two, Harry thought, but they always surprise me.

---

Daphne

The Weasley household was entirely unlike anything that Daphne had been used to in her own childhood, but she found that the nearly-tangible mood of camaraderie and family in the air was something that she very much enjoyed, even with the frenetic pace of conversation that flowed through the party.

While Pansy couldn't attend due to the ever-frustrating need to keep their relationship a secret – for now – Astoria had made it quite clear that Molly Weasley had insisted on Daphne's own attendance, apparently unwilling to even consider the possibility that her son's sister-in-law might celebrate Christmas alone.

The Weasley matriarch was, as always, a lot, but Daphne almost found the worry and fussiness over her to be comforting.

"It's so good to see that you're doing well!" Molly Weasley exuberantly gestured with a serving ladle as she spoke, "I saw that you had a piece of artwork on display at Susan Bones's place, that's quite the accomplishment! So many young women your age get so worried about finding a husband, but it will come in time, and doing your own thing for now is something to be proud of! Of course, starting a family is a gift of its own, and there's just nothing like having children, even though they'll make you worry, it's so worth it!"

Daphne glanced over the redhead woman's shoulder to catch Ginevra's eye, who smiled at her in sympathy. Molly had already not-so-subtly inquired at least seven times – by Daphne's count – this evening when it was that Draco and Ginny planned to begin their own family.

It was something that Daphne felt could bother her, given how her own upbringing had focused so sharply on the need to produce heirs, but the way that the Weasley mother pushed and prodded simply felt… different than the types of pressure which Daphne found so unbearable.

"And, you know," Molly's voice dropped to a lower volume, "I know that the papers are saying that Harry's involved with Susan, somehow, but as far as I know he's still single…"

Apparently, it took all of an hour for Molly to start treating Daphne as if she were one of her own children, and the unbridled enthusiasm was sufficient to prevent Daphne from feeling offended or defensive over these obvious ploys.

Besides, Harry is a pretty good catch, she thought, catching a glimpse of her boyfriend chatting easily with George Weasley, Hermione, and Draco. She smiled to herself, pleased to see Harry relaxed, socializing without the need to worry about how he was perceived. This level of comfort was still somewhat unfamiliar to her, but she was confident that there was nothing "Ice Queen" about her demeanour tonight.

If anything was unusual, in fact, it was the way that William Weasley had interacted with Harry: the Weasley heir had exchanged tense pleasantries with her boyfriend (who, for his part, seemed to behave entirely as expected), then retreated to the opposite side of the room, occasionally giving furtive glances towards Harry's direction.

Maybe it's the way that William's new girlfriend is making eyes at Harry, she wondered – without any jealousy, as Lavender Brown posed no threat to her in any way – as she couldn't help but try and puzzle out the meaning of particular interactions. Daphne may not have been engaged in the complicated manipulations custom to Pureblood culture, but her education wouldn't allow her to entirely ignore her own curiosity about these matters.

Or, perhaps it's because William fears that Harry will retaliate for Fleur's sake, somehow, she mused, not that it seems like she's too upset at being divorced.

While Daphne still wasn't entirely comfortable with the way that Fleur so obviously teased Pansy and Harry (not that he noticed it), she'd at least come to accept that the French witch was simply a flirt by nature, and that it seemed unlikely that any serious intent lay behind the provocations. If anything, it was the woman's clear talent for engaging in subtle manipulations which set Daphne's nerves off, even if she had to admit that the half-Veela hadn't actually done anything disagreeable.

"Daph!" Astoria called out, "got a minute?"

"Oh, I'm keeping you!" Molly cut in, "go, talk to your sister!"

Thanks, Stori, Daphne thought, bemused.

"She means well," her sister explained, "but Molly can be a bit much."

"Oh, I didn't mind," Daphne smiled, sitting beside her sister, "what'd you need?"

"To talk to you," Astoria adjusted in her seat. She was obviously pregnant at this stage, her belly swollen to the point that she had to lounge rather than sit, but as uncomfortable as it looked, Astoria seemed downright proud of her state.

"Mhmm?" Daphne replied, curious.

"I heard about the events at the Winter Solstice Gala," Astoria pursed her lips, "rather daring of you, I'd say, but I'm not opposed to the outcome."

"Thank you?" Daphne really hoped that Astoria wasn't about to engage her in any sort of political debate.

"Not that you need any of my advice," Astoria continued, "but if you were intending to hint at certain… ideas regarding a famous wizard, then you should probably know that Miss Brown over there happens to be a known contributor to Witch Weekly."

Sharp as always, sister.

"Is that so?"

"I think," Astoria's eyes glittered, "that while subterfuge has a certain appeal, I might enjoy seeing you able to express some part of your real feelings, yes?"

Daphne fought back a blush, pondering the message. Their plan to portray Harry as a potentially-interested-but-not-sure suitor of Daphne's was still something being developed between Hermione, herself, and Harry, but on a personal level, she certainly enjoyed the idea of being able to be more publicly affectionate (in careful, measured ways, of course) with her boyfriend.

For as much as she'd sworn that she'd never again set foot in the arena of Pureblood politics, the fact that Harry was at risk of falling victim to her father's machinations had made it an easy choice to re-engage in those old habits, to be able to protect him in any way that she could.

"I'll keep it in mind," Daphne replied coolly, though she broke into a light giggle when Astoria rolled her eyes and kicked her foot lightly. "How are you? Any idea as to your due date yet?"

"Not long from now," Astoria grumbled, "and about time. I'm enormous, Daph, thank fucking Merlin I'm not having twins."

"That is a possibility," Daphne teased, "whenever you have the next one."

"One's enough for now," her sister smiled, laying her hands over her belly, "check back with me in a couple years, when this one's grown up a bit."

"Decided a name yet?"

"We have a few ideas," Astoria idly hummed in thought, "you should find out by February, at this rate."

"I can't wait!"

"Yes, well, as the godparents, I expect that you and Mister Potter will be among the first to know," Astoria rolled her eyes once again, as in the other room, the aforementioned Harry Potter had somehow found himself in an awkward half-hug, half-headlock administered by Ronald, "not that my husband is much for subtlety. Go retrieve him for me, would you?"

"I'd be delighted," Daphne smirked.

She crossed the room to the pair of men, whose friendly jostling was being loudly cheered on by George.

"Ronald, my sister wants to speak to you," Daphne interjected, and he looked half-chastised as he released Harry from their rambunctious tussle.

"Cheers!" Ronald scurried to the other room, leaving an entirely-bashful looking Harry standing in front of her.

"Thanks for coming to my rescue, Daphne," Harry smiled warmly, "I think I had it in hand, but I won't complain that I'm in your company instead of Ron's."

"I just hope you don't expect to wrestle with me," Daphne teased, "I rather think it would end poorly."

"Oh, I can be quite gentle, actually!"

"For you." Daphne delighted in the way that Harry blushed at this, their flirting not quite subtle, but not nearly as satisfying compared to the idea of him actually taking her in his arms.

"I didn't know you two were close!" Lavender Brown had chosen to appear at this moment, a wide smile on her face failing to disguise the intrigue in her eyes.

"Ah, yeah," Harry reached back to scratch at the back of his head, "uh, Miss Greengrass and I have become somewhat acquainted with each other lately, mutual friends and all that, yeah?"

Daphne glanced to the side of the room, where William was practically the image of "having his hackles raised", another curious display from the oldest Weasley son.

"I've heard you're quite the artist, Daphne!" if Lavender noticed any tension in her… boyfriend(?), it wasn't apparent, "what's next for you there?"

"Ah, well," Daphne brushed her mild concerns aside, "who's to say? I'm taking commissions still, but that's about as far as I have planned ahead."

"Oh, that's very interesting," the woman giggled, "I've gotta get back to BIll! Nice talking to you!"

When she flounced across the room to return to her boyfriend, Lavender then actually draped herself across his lap, toying with William's hair as she continued to excitedly go on about something or other. The man seemed to relax at this, though Daphne didn't miss the possessive grip of his hand on Lavender's leg.

Quite literally territorial? Daphne wondered. William had made no secret of the ways that a werewolf's bite had affected him, becoming the unintentional face of a new demographic calling themselves "wolf-blooded"; not fully werewolves, but neither were they entirely human in their instincts, from what she understood.

Lavender Brown, of course, was another of this group. Daphne didn't intend to pass judgment on whatever dynamics the couple enjoyed in their relationship, but she found it somewhat unsettling how William seemed to stake a claim on the witch.

"They look happy," Harry's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"A bit clingy for my preference," Daphne answered, "but who am I to say what works for others?"

"There's definitely a lot of unconventional arrangements out there," Harry agreed, leaning in towards her ear, "like whatever Pansy's going to have in mind for us when we get home," he whispered.

Daphne didn't have to pretend to be flustered, her blush rising naturally.

It was a mistake to teach you how to act like you're flirting with me, Daphne smirked, you're too good at it.

---

Pansy

Christmas day had never really been a holiday that Pansy had celebrated. Certainly, her parents had paid lip service to the whole Yule tradition when she'd been young, but the gifts she'd received from them had always been purely material; a few dozen Galleons here, a new piece of jewelry there.

This, of course, left her deeply uncertain as to how her own gifts would be received on this first occasion where she wanted to make someone else happy. She would stubbornly resist the idea that she was nervous, but she felt an unsettling sort of anticipation as Harry and Daphne sat beside her, each with a pair of boxes at their feet.

"Do you want to go first, Pans?" Daphne asked her, and Pansy fidgeted under the caring that her partners looked at her with.

"Yes, might as well," she mumbled, shoving a box into Harry's arms first, then Daphne's, "Happy Christmas, and all."

The recent visits to her shop had been for entirely personal reasons, devoting the time to crafting these gifts for her boyfriend and girlfriend. She'd gone through so many different ideas and iterations that she had no idea if she'd even made the right decision on what she'd eventually made for them, but she was at least confident enough that they wouldn't hate what they received.

She now felt a whole new fear that it was cheesy to have made their gifts, that she should have instead used some of her profits to purchase something for both of them, but if trying to puzzle out Harry's preferences was one thing, trying to imagine something that he couldn't have bought for herself was a challenge on a whole new level.

"Harry, you go first," she ordered him, sipping her mug of coffee (cut with a healthy portion of cream liqueur) to mask the embarrassing warble in her voice.

He pulled the wrapping paper apart carefully, lifting the lid from the enchanted gift box, and withdrew the item she'd made for him; a dragonhide jacket, in the "café racer" style. Suitably fashionable while being much less imposing than his armour made of the same material, it was heavy enough that it would serve as adequate protection when he rode his ridiculous magical motorcycle, the existence of which was a fortunate surprise for her.

"Pans!" Harry cried out happily, and she felt a bit of tension leave her shoulders, "this is incredible!"

She was about to come up with a pithy retort along the lines of "what did you expect?", but didn't have the time to speak before he leaned over and kissed her. Pansy reached up into his hair, ruffling his head as she felt her own lips turn up into a smile against his.

"Well, try it on, Harry!" Daphne cheered, and he stood up with visible excitement as he immediately did so.

"Not bad, if I say so myself," Pansy let herself brag a little bit.

"Not bad?" Daphne whistled, "you look quite dashing, Harry!"

He did, at that. The classic style of the jacket worked well with him, and though the fact that he currently wore it over pyjama pants spoiled the effect somewhat, Pansy hoped that this present might well become a staple of his wardrobe.

"It's brilliant, Pans," Harry grinned as he sat back down, "you're brilliant."

"Daphne, you may open yours now," Pansy replied, feeling a blush at the back of her neck.

She'd taken somewhat of a different approach when it came to her girlfriend: her gift was somewhat less likely to become a staple item, but one that she felt would help to fulfill some of Daphne's recent interests.

"Ooh!" Daphne announced, similarly excited, "these are also brilliant! How long did you spend on this, Pans? They're amazing!"

The pair of dragonhide trousers that she'd crafted were as stylish as she could possibly have managed, the scaly leather overlaid over panels of charmed stretching fabric, following the principles of "leather pants" while being much more flexible and mobile than a Muggle equivalent.

"Oh, no bother," Pansy dismissed the compliment, though her blush only grew stronger, "I thought they'd be good for your 'edgy artist' vibe, yeah?"

"I imagine they are," Harry had a teasing note in his voice, "but you should try them on anyways, yeah?"

Daphne rolled her eyes as she grinned, quickly shuffling out of her own pyjama pants and drawing the new pair over her hips.

"Well?" Daphne smirked, turning around to show how they fit.

"Merlin," Harry whispered, "that's practically a gift to both of us, yeah?"

"Never let it be said I don't look out for my own interests," Pansy drawled, as Daphne smirked, cocking her hip to demonstrate just how well the pants clung to her arse. While not quite pornographic in the way that they outlined her curves, the sight was enough to give Pansy all sorts of ideas of different events that Daphne could show off at.

"These are great," Daphne murmured, leaning down to kiss Pansy, "even if it's an excuse to look at my arse."

"I don't think we need an excuse," Harry teased, smacking his hand against said (incredible) arse for emphasis.

"Well, I absolutely love them," Daphne giggled, squeezing into the space between Harry and Pansy, "you two are next!"

"Go ahead, Pans," Harry murmured, and she grumbled in assent as she unwrapped Daphne's gift to her.

Oh!

She pulled a camera free of the gift box, an older model in the Polaroid style, but she could tell that it was magical in some way.

"I thought," Daphne explained, "that since you wanted to do more photoshoots for your shop, that you might appreciate an upgrade. If I got the charms right, that'll take pictures that aren't really magical photographs, but more like… charmed prints? They'll show up better on paper, and you can actually put them into notebooks, so I hope-"

Pansy interrupted her by pulling her into another kiss, pressing their lips together urgently.

"It's fucking amazing," Pansy confirmed, "just what I wanted, and I didn't even know it myself."

"Well I'm glad you like it," Daphne blushed, "I was worried that…"

"Shush," Pansy smirked, "this is just as perfect as your arse is."

"Harry," Daphne turned back to their boyfriend, "open yours now!"

He seemed just as excited to open Daphne's gift as he had opened Pansy's, and she spent a moment just appreciating the absurdity of this scene; merely a year ago, the idea of winding up in a relationship would have been alien to Pansy, and now she was sitting here, watching her boyfriend (Harry fucking Potter) exuberantly opening a gift from their girlfriend, the whole arrangement feeling more natural than anything Pansy had ever experienced before.

"Oh!" Harry announced, pulling a bracelet out of the box, "this is neat!"

"It gets better," Daphne teased, "I noticed, um, that you haven't got any tattoos on your left arm yet, and you said that you haven't had any ideas for it yet, so, well…"

Pansy stroked her girlfriend's hair, leaning in to murmur "he loves it, don't worry" in reassurance.

Harry's eyes lit up in glee as he attached the bracelet (itself a fashionable, masculine sort of accessory) to his left wrist, a veritable explosion of ink spilling over his skin as he did so, swirls of orange, blue, and black covering his forearm.

"It took me ages to get the charms right," Daphne explained, "and you can swap out the painting, of course, it's just a little something I did of a Phoenix."

"It's one of your paintings?" Harry grinned widely, "that's amazing, Daph!"

"It suits him," Pansy agreed, "the boy could use some colour in his ink, that's for certain."

"Amazing," Harry repeated, taking his turn to kiss Daphne, "fuck, the two of you were so creative with your gifts to me, now I just hope that I measure up!"

He seemed almost more excited to pass gift boxes to his partners than he had been to open his own presents, and that was saying something.

"Pans?" Harry's enthusiasm was infectious.

She opened the box, the object within far too long to have fit inside it without the aid of magic. The sweeping lines of a broomstick were familiar enough to her, but she didn't recognize the glossy, all-black model, finely polished and glittering under her gaze. A small plate near the base of the handle read "03", but no further identification was obvious.

It looked expensive.

"That's, er, a Firebolt Prime," Harry explained, "they're not publicly released yet, but since you wanted to go flying and all, I figured…"

"Harry," Pansy teased, "did you get me an experimental, high-powered broom because you thought I wouldn't be able to keep up with you otherwise?"

"Er," he looked discombobulated, and Pansy giggled at his reaction, as she leaned across Daphne to kiss him before he could start worrying.

"You're right," she smirked, "and this is… incredible."

"It's still in development," Harry muttered, "but it kind of reminds me of you. A bit stubborn on turns, but the speed, whew."

"You know me too well," Pansy joked again, letting a wide smile cover her face as she ran her fingers down the broomstick. "Expensive, experimental, and dangerous" are practically my main traits, she thought, this is absolutely ideal.

"I'm just glad you like it," Harry smiled, "so, uh, Daph, your turn?"

"Oh, this is pretty!" Daphne now opened hers, revealing a small, intricate-looking music box, "what's it play?"

"Well, that's the thing," Harry started to explain, "it kinda plays whatever you do. See the button on top? Set it down where you've got some space, and push that."

As Daphne walked to the middle of the room, Pansy pulled her eyes away from the sway of her girlfriend's hips to meet Harry's own gaze, quirking an eyebrow in curiosity. Harry merely grinned bashfully, nodding back towards Daphne.

When she pressed the button on top of the music box, with a "fwoosh" of magic, a grand piano, all in white, appeared in the middle of the room.

Elegant, beautiful, and artistic, Pansy immediately noticed, just like Daph. Good call, Harry.

"I figured," Harry explained, "you'd mentioned you missed playing music, and I figured you liked piano the best, given that you've got Moonlight Sonata tattooed and all, and I haven't seen one at your flat, so, uh, now you can play whenever you want, yeah?"

Daphne hesitantly played a few short melodies, standing in front of the keyboard, and Pansy saw her take a deep, shuddering breath. When she turned back to the pair on Harry's couch, Daphne had tears in her eyes.

"Daph?" Harry started, but Pansy's own twinge of concern was immediately pushed away as Daphne practically ran back to them, bringing both Harry and Pansy into her arms as she crawled on top of their laps.

"I love it," Daphne gasped, her breath hitching, "I… I love you. Both of you."

Oh.

Pansy felt a surge of emotion at this announcement. It wasn't altogether unexpected, given how they'd all been dating for a few months by now, but these were words that she'd never heard before, let alone felt.

"I love you too," Harry answered, happily, "and I love you, Pansy."

Pansy wedged her face into the side of Daphne's neck, blinking back an unexpected tear of her own.

"Well, of course," she spoke, after a moment, "I love the both of you. C'mere."

Harry's arm slung around her shoulders as she extended her own around his back, and the three sat in contented silence, each embracing the other two.

Though she'd never really imagined that she'd ever find herself saying these words, the realization that she meant them, with every fiber of her being, was something that she would never change.

---

Harry

The party was in full swing by the time that Daphne, Harry, and Pansy had wandered off to the side together. Fortunately for the trio, the guests at Neville's New Year's Eve party were all those in the know as to the status of their relationship, which allowed them to openly share affection with each other rather than hiding it from prying eyes.

In many ways, the party itself served as a demonstration of how much healing the Wizarding world had managed since its last war; Pansy's friends were in attendance alongside Harry's, with Greg Goyle and Draco Malfoy enthusiastically welcoming each other to a new friendship, one not built on the foundation of "leader and enforcer" of a student-body extremist movement.

In other ways, some of the guests not in attendance proved to show that issues, difficulties, and problems still existed. Susan Bones was absent – having notified Neville that she was presently occupied working with the Ministry of Magic in an ambiguous role – as were a number of Harry's circle of friends who couldn't quite be trusted to keep the trio's secret.

Each of the three was aware, in their own different ways, that this was likely to be one of the last occasions for a while that they'd be lucky enough to demonstrate the love they felt for each other in public. The pressures placed on each of the three due to Lord Cyrus Greengrass's plots and schemes required each to present a certain face to society, one which did not yet have room for revealing their three-person relationship.

Still, they did well to keep these sorts of bittersweet thoughts from spoiling the evening. They joined in the rest of the guests in excitedly counting down from "ten" to mark the new year, and when cheers whooped through the crowd and bottles of champagne popped at "zero", Pansy pulled each of her partners down to her, pressing their faces together so that she could plant a kiss on the corners of both of their lips at once.

Harry, for his part, could still hardly believe how lucky he was. While he wasn't quite approaching the status of a "long-term bachelor" before he'd started dating his girlfriends, it had been some time since he'd had a partner to share this tradition with, let alone two partners.

Daphne simply allowed herself to be swept up in the cheer, at ease with how she didn't have to gauge and measure the interactions she had with the other guests, finally able to just be "Daphne" instead of "Daphne, of House Greengrass".

Pansy, of course, felt similarly content, but had her thoughts focused on matters particularly close at hand; that is, as she sidled between her partners, she reached past their lower backs to take a solid handful of each of their arses.

She smirked happily when they responded by crossing their arms over one another over her own back, in turn squeezing both of her cheeks together.

"Let's pop a bottle, hang out for a bit longer," Pansy proposed, "then get out of here, yeah?"

"That eager to get us home, are you?" Daphne teased, an easy smile on her face.

"It sounds brilliant to me," Harry grinned, "you both look lovely tonight, but I've got to admit, I'm looking forward to seeing those dresses off…"

Pansy chuckled as she took the opportunity to lightly slap each of her partners' arses.

"You've got such a way with words, Harry," she teased, disentangling herself from the pair as she set off to procure one of the aforementioned bottles of champagne, "it's a good thing I'll be drunk enough to find you charming."

As she walked away, she felt a warm feeling rise in her chest at the way both Harry and Daphne's gazes had immediately dropped to arse-level before she'd even turned around. It felt good to be appreciated, let alone by two people that – in Pansy's eyes – were particularly impressive in their own rights.

---

Harry

Fuck me, Harry goggled, I was really on the right track, wasn't I?

While Pansy and Daphne did indeed look fantastic at the party – Daphne in a shimmery, silver sequined cocktail dress, Pansy in a dark green velvet number which hugged her curves distractingly – he definitely preferred the lacy lingerie revealed as the two witches enthusiastically stripped one another.

He hurried to unbutton his dress shirt and kick his trousers aside so that he could join his girlfriends, who'd now fallen onto his bed together, Pansy on top of Daphne, the pair kissing each other passionately.

Pansy made a satisfied half-groan, half-giggle when he moved beside her to kiss at the spot just below her jaw, turning to press her lips into his own, her tongue darting and flicking against his. She shuffled forwards, coming to seat herself on Daphne's lower stomach, before reaching back to hook her arms under Daphne's knees, pulling the blonde's legs open and back.

"Haaarry," Pansy whined, "do the Parseltongue thing to her."

He smirked, happily moving to crouch at the end of the bed to obey Pansy's (only somewhat) needy request.

Fuck, you've got such nice legs, he thought, running his hands teasingly down the underside of Daphne's thighs, before leaning in to press a soft kiss directly against her pussy, still covered by her lacy, white thong.

He groaned along with her as he pulled the garment to the side, following the action with a slow, languid lick up the entirety of her sex. She was already wet, her slightly-salty, slightly-bitter taste only tantalizing him even further. He buried his face into her, the small patch of soft blonde curls above her pussy running against his nose as he pressed his tongue between her lower lips.

Fixing his gaze on Pansy's lower back (so conveniently positioned directly in his line of sight while looking up from between Daphne's legs), where her serpent tattoo stood out in green ink, Harry began to speak whatever thoughts entered his mind, only in Parseltongue.

"You're so bloody hot," he hissed, his tongue flickering and writhing more quickly than any ordinary person could hope to match. The effect was immediate, Daphne's legs quivering, her whole lower body twitching as Pansy held her in place.

"You like this, don't you?" the phrase set off another spasm through the blonde, followed by a plaintive cry when he continued with "Good. I'm glad."

"I'm glad I can make you feel good," he admitted, and though she couldn't understand the words, her body certainly responded as if it did, the powerful clenching of her thighs almost pulling Pansy from her seat, as Daphne reached her first orgasm of the night.

"Give her another," Pansy smirked over her shoulder, hauling Daphne's legs even further apart by leaning forwards.

"If you say so," Harry replied, and Daphne practically wailed.

"Come for me," he ordered in the language of serpents, amusing himself by the fact that he was dating two so-called "Snakes" from Hogwarts, "I love watching it. I love you."

Daphne actually screamed as his tongue continued its rapid motions, her second orgasm in a span of minutes tearing through her, marked with a hot spray of fluid against Harry's face as she came hard.

"Fuck," Daphne whimpered, "that's enough, that's enough. Merlin, that makes me sensitive."

Harry smirked as he rose from his knees, where Pansy released Daphne's legs from her arms in order to twist around to kiss him, making a clear demonstration of her approval when she lewdly ran her tongue along the side of his face.

"That means it's your turn," Harry spoke, his voice husky, as he brought a hand down to spank Pansy lightly.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" the brunette teased in response, bending over to stick her arse out, wiggling it at him as she did so.

He pulled Pansy's own thong over her deliciously curvy hips, down her thighs, just far enough to expose her pussy. Harry could already see that she, too, was slick with arousal, so he decided he'd give her something that she frequently requested.

Harry pushed his entire length inside of her with one quick thrust, planting one arm on the bed for leverage, while reaching around her torso with the other to grip her breast firmly.

"Mmm," Pansy moaned in pleasure, especially when Daphne propped herself up underneath them, latching on to Pansy's other breast with her lips.

He set a fast pace, a hard pace, as he plunged in and out of her tight sex with urgency. Harry didn't intend to draw this out, while he certainly enjoyed the near-marathon sessions the trio sometimes engaged in, in this moment he felt like getting Pansy and himself off as quickly as possible was just right.

"Choke me a little?" Pansy whined, her voice hitching at every thrust. As Harry started to reach to obey her request, he was slightly surprised to see Daphne beating him to the finish line, one of her elegant hands wrapping around Pansy's throat and squeezing in a way that, somehow, looked positively sensual.

"Fuck," Harry groaned, the sight nearly as erotic as the feel of Pansy's pussy around his cock. He decided that – if Pansy wanted a bit of the rough treatment – he might as well oblige her, removing his hand from her breast (after a final, solid grope) and instead tangling it in her hair, pulling her head back to expose her neck even further to Daphne's grasp.

Pansy made a wordless, satisfied sound as she tensed up, shuddering in place, the obvious sign that she'd just orgasmed. When Daphne and Harry both released their grips on her, she slumped forward, planting a kiss on Daphne's lips before rolling to the side.

"Wanna cum on my tits?" Pansy smirked up at Harry, the question sparking a light in Daphne's eyes at the same time.

He crawled up onto the bed, his knees on either side of Pansy's torso, as Daphne smoothly stood and circled around behind him, pressing herself into his back.

"Yesss," the blonde whispered in his ear, as her hand snaked around to grasp his member, immediately starting to stroke him with deft, graceful motions, "I want you to cum on her tits. I love it. I love that you two are always so willing to play along with my kinks."

Fuck, not like it's much of a sacrifice, Harry thought, as he groaned in lieu of providing a more eloquent response.

"Please, Harry," Pansy begged, the devilish smirk on her face entirely ruining the 'innocent' tone of voice she was performing, to say nothing of the way she cupped her own tits together, jiggling them for Harry's benefit.

"Fuck, that's hot," Daphne watched over his shoulder, the pace of her strokes increasing.

Okay, not only for my benefit.

He surrendered himself to Daphne's ministrations, leaning back against her, feeling her breasts press into his back. If nothing else (and each of them has lots to offer on top of that), his girlfriends were very skilled at sex, and the way Daphne stroked his cock perfectly met every preference of how he liked to be treated.

"Fuck," he groaned, reaching his own climax, shooting three intense spurts of cum over Pansy's chest, even splashing up onto her lips.

"Mmm," Pansy made a show out of licking her lips, pursing them together in a glamorous kiss to the air, "good boy."

Daphne, fulfilling the kink she'd mentioned earlier, swept down to Pansy, running her tongue lazily up Pansy's abdomen before lavishing attention to her tits, groping and squeezing them even as she licked Harry's cum off their girlfriend.

"I don't think I'll ever get tired of that," Harry chuckled, flopping down beside Pansy on his back.

"You'd better not," Pansy teased, "or else I'll have to get really kinky to keep you on your toes."

"That sounds awful," Daphne joked, crawling up Pansy's body to plant a soft smooch on her lips before rolling to the other side, "I can't possibly imagine."

"I figure you already are imagining it," Harry smirked, leaning his head into Daphne's hand when she reached across to ruffle his hair, "Merlin knows that I am."

"Well, if the two of you keep being so good," Pansy wrapped her arms around their necks in a quick hug, "I suppose that I can be inventive."

"Can't wait," Harry chuckled, turning off the lights.

---

Daphne

Hello Daphne,

My apologies for the short notice, but this is an opportunity which only recently arose. I had discussed your impressive sculpture displayed at the Winter Solstice Gala with a friend of mine, and he in turn has expressed great interest in showcasing some of your artwork in the upcoming opening of the spring exhibit at his gallery – "Frame and Stroke", if you have heard of it.

I understand that you also work with painting, and if this would be something of interest to you, then Mr. Higgs has already requested six paintings of yours to display. The date of opening is the seventh of February, which is indeed shortly upcoming.

Please reply with your decision as promptly as you are able.

Sincerely,

Miss Narcissa Black

The letter surprised Daphne, as she'd had no reason to expect that her recent display had attracted the attention of anyone in the actual Wizarding art world. While her opinion remained that Magical culture had a long way to go in order to catch up with the achievements of Muggle artists, everyone who knew anything about art was well aware of "Frame and Stroke".

"That was Narcissa's owl," Pansy muttered around a mouthful of toast, "what's she got to say?"

"Extending an offer," Daphne explained, sitting back down at the breakfast table, "apparently I've caught the attention of a gallery proprietor, he wants to display some paintings of mine…"

"Daph!" Harry cheered, "that's fantastic!"

"Which gallery?" Pansy quirked an eyebrow in interest.

"Well, uh," Daphne wet her lips with her tongue, "Frame and Stroke."

Pansy let an impressed whistle loose, before taking a lazy sip of her coffee.

"That good?" Harry asked.

"Pretty big deal," Pansy replied, "basically the cutting edge so far as the Wizarding world goes. Did you have a chance to speak to Bertie Higgs at the gala?"

"Can't say I remember the name," Harry shrugged.

"Minor house, generally vaguely sort-of-reformist," Pansy waved her hand in the air as she explained, "his younger brother is the owner of this gallery."

"Yes, I'm just…" Daphne frowned, "I'm not sure if I'll make it. He wants six paintings to display, I've got three finished right now, and of those, maybe two that would be worth showing?"

"So?" it was now Harry's turn to raise an eyebrow, apparently, "how long until you've got to have them done?"

"Barely over a month," Daphne sighed, "it'd be tough to line up, and I'd be busy most days."

"You should do it," Pansy didn't order Daphne to, but neither did her tone of voice sound like she'd listen to any of Daphne's worries about this chance.

"But I… what if it isn't good enough?"

"My sweet, you got a word-of-mouth invitation based on one of your pieces," Pansy shrugged, unconcerned, "you'll blow them away."

"Can't say I'm much of an art critic," Harry interjected, "but for what it's worth, I think you're a brilliant artist too."

"And you aren't worried that I won't be able to see you two as much?"

"I've got loads on my plate right now anyways," Pansy drained her coffee, then stood to walk over to Daphne, draping herself over her girlfriend in an easy sort of embrace, "I'll be pretty busy at the shop, and Mister Lord Potter-Black the Magnificent over there," Harry stuck his tongue out in response to Pansy's teasing, "has a lot of scheming he'll have to be up to."

"Well… if you two don't mind."

"I'd worry more if you didn't take this chance because of us, for some reason," Harry reassured her, "we support each other and all that, yeah?"

"Besides, this is much more productive than Harry's usual pursuits," Pansy smirked, "and we still encourage him to run about blowing things up and duelling Pureblood Lords."

Harry stood from the table in turn, crossing over to join Pansy in hugging the seated Daphne, though he took the time to pinch Pansy's arse as he joined his girlfriends. Of course, Pansy only giggled and smirked even harder in response.

"Okay, yeah, I'll do it," Daphne decided, forcing the bubbling worries of "what if you aren't actually talented" or "this 'art' hobby of yours is suited well enough as a diversion, but you cannot seriously think of pursuing it beyond a pass-time" from her mind.

It was much easier to do so with two pairs of arms wrapped around her, Harry and Pansy both resting their chins gently against her in their strange embrace which just worked, somehow.

---

Harry

Harry felt distinctly like he was being ambushed, sitting in Hermione's flat, a tea cup shakily making its way to his lips as he paused to try and understand what he was being told.

"I, er, uh, what?" he spoke, eloquently as ever.

"It's pretty simple, Harry," Sue chuckled, "I imagine you've been on a date or two before, yeah?"

"But, uh," Harry scratched at the back of his neck, only barely managing not to spill his tea as he wriggled uncomfortably, "isn't that going a bit far for this whole scheme?"

"Well, it would be rather unconvincing if you proclaimed your intent to court Susan," Hermione explained, and Harry did not care for the smirk on his friend's face, "and then proceeded not to do so. We're trying to build a story with this, and stories usually have characters, I'm afraid."

"Am I so unappealing that you don't wish to be seen with me," Sue batted her eyelashes as she spoke in a sugary-sweet voice, before snorting another laugh, "darling?"

"I get it," Harry grumbled, "I made pants of the whole thing, you don't have to keep pointing it out."

"Hah, mate," Sue returned to her normal speech, "I'm just messing with you. Don't worry, I know this is all for show, I'm not exactly gonna be heartbroken if our whirlwind romance doesn't lead anywhere."

"You know I hate being in the papers," Harry pleaded to Hermione, who was entirely unsympathetic.

"Yes, of course, but unfortunately," Hermione was beginning a lecture, he just knew it, "your celebrity status also happens to convey a useful advantage to our cause, being that you are the most prominent Lord in our faction."

"Can't you get Draco to do something?" Harry whined, "he's a Lord too, yeah?"

"Fuck's sake," Sue continued to laugh at his misfortune, "I've seen you go toe-to-toe with some real nasty sorts who were trying to kill you, I'm sure you can handle having dinner with me a few times, you prat."

"Most of them weren't half as intimidating as Lady Susan Bones," Harry teased her in return, but Sue just beamed a grin in response.

"Well, we're going to need every advantage we can find," Hermione produced one of her many notebooks, flipping through the pages before laying it on the table in front of her, "by my best estimates, from what Daphne, Pansy, and Susan have told me, we're currently outvoted by a fairly significant margin."

Harry grimaced as he scanned the pages, counting the estimated votes for and against Cyrus's bill. While the gap didn't seem insurmountable, by Hermione's calculations, they'd have to somehow find a way to sway at least half a dozen different Lords and Ladies to their side in order to stand a chance.

"There's a little squiggle here, beside Lord Carrow," Harry noticed, "what's that?"

"He's of uncertain loyalties," Hermione explained.

"Eh, Artaxes is a pretty good chap," Sue shrugged, interjecting, "sure, he was the first Lord I duelled, but I get the impression he wanted to test me out more than anything. He's the sort that likes to follow rules because they're rules, but I get the impression that he doesn't give a rat's arse if someone's Pureblood, Noble, or any of that."

Harry turned a cheeky grin to Hermione, mouthing "rules will be rules" under his breath, which was met with a huffed sigh and his friend rolling her eyes at him.

"The main point is that we simply don't have the numbers to turn this into a 'you're with us or against us' issue," Hermione continued, "we need to play this deftly, rather than simply trying to battle Cyrus at every turn, we might need to go along with him at times so that we can push things towards a better result."

"Water shapes its course according to the nature of the ground over which it flows…" Sue spoke, nodding to herself sagely.

"That a quote?"

"Yeah," she smirked, "Art of War."

"Thought coursing rivers were supposed to be swift," Harry quirked an eyebrow.

"Well, aren't you mysterious as the dark side of the moon."

"What are you two on about?" Hermione frowned.

"Mister," Sue stood up, crossing the table to place her arm on Harry's shoulder, as she spoke seriously, "I'll make a Pureblood man out of you."

"Are you two quoting Disney films!?" Hermione harrumphed, crossing her arms, "this is somewhat serious, you know."

Sue and Harry descended into laughter together, as Hermione continued to fume.

"Yeah, I get it, but a bit of levity helps," Harry grinned, realizing how funny it was that this trio - a Muggleborn witch, a "Half-Blood" who found herself in charge of an ancient (Most Ancient, actually) House, and himself (functionally raised in the Muggle world) - were setting about playing the game of Pure-blooded politics.

"Want the summary?" Sue asked.

"Merlin, please."

"Alright," Sue flopped back into her seat, counting points out on her fingers, "so, Mister Romantic over there all-but-declared that he's courting me as a wife to one of his two lines," Harry rolled his eyes, "which actually makes it seem like the fact that I invited his girlfriend to the gala under my ticket was a clever little ploy."

Right, yeah, got it so far, he thought.

"So we play up that whole angle, make it look like Harry's over the moon for me," Sue took a moment to pose with her hands folded under her chin, "and because I am just such a good little Pureblood woman, subtly imply that I've been dutifully seeking out candidates for his second wife, rather than, y'know, dating women."

"Yup, following along."

"So, your actual relationship with Daph is hidden from the public," Sue continued, "while we pretend that we're cautiously courting her. Not a sure thing, but enough mutual interest that people'll think it's going somewhere."

"Okay, yeah, but what's the point of that?"

"Harry," Hermione sighed, "even though they tend towards pig-headed stubbornness, not even Pureblood families can hold grudges forever. Cyrus publicly distanced himself from Daphne, it's true, but if she returns to prominence as a potential wife of yours, alongside Susan's existing reputation for being politically savvy…"

"Old Cyrus won't be able to speak against you much publicly," Sue grinned, "it'd make him look foolish if he publicly endangered a maybe-betrothal between his House and fuckin' Lord Potter-Black, so he'll be limited in how much he can actually argue against us."

"Right, but we're already worried we don't have the votes…" Harry wasn't quite getting it.

"That's the whole point of this scheme, Harry," Hermione shook her head, "we're not going against Cyrus, we're making it look like you and him are allies in all this, ones who just happen to disagree on some of the fine print."

"Oh," Harry got it now, "I hate it."

Sue broke out into another loud laugh as Hermione made a frustrated "eurgh" noise, before Harry decided to stop tormenting her and joined in laughter.

"Really, I do hate it, it's not fair to you, Sue," he explained, "but it makes sense. I'm just glad that my blunder actually worked out for us, somehow."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll make it up to me," Sue winked at him, continuing her act.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll owe you a whole bar's worth of drinks by the time this is over."

"Or you could loan Daphne to me," Sue waggled her eyebrows.

Well… maybe that could happen, if Pansy and I were okay with it? No, he chastised himself for thinking in that direction, definitely not the time to imply that.

"I suppose I should be glad that you two find this so amusing," Hermione sighed, "at least this sort of rapport will make our story easier to believe."

Harry decided not to worry about it for now. Sure, he enjoyed Sue's company quite a bit, and they'd already spent many a night getting drunk together, but taking her on a fake date seemed like another matter entirely. If she's fine with it despite not even being into blokes, he rationalized, I guess I don't have much room to complain.

---

Daphne

Daphne found herself metaphorically beating her head against a wall.

In the two weeks since she'd accepted the offer from Mr. Higgs (by way of Narcissa Black), she'd been exceedingly productive, having finished an entirely new piece (a reflected landscape with – in her own opinion – a bold take on colour schemes) and nearly finished a fourth painting.

The fifth, meanwhile, was a stumbling block that she seemed unable to hurdle: as clear as the image was in her mind, her attempts at conveying this to canvas had tended to fail at the first efforts. The concept she had in her head – "Throne", as a working title – was of a faceless, ambiguous, but male figure, posed in such a way that it would be hard to tell whether he was sitting down or if he was the seat, while a similarly-ambiguous female figured sprawled across the titular "throne".

In her sketches, it seemed that every time she started drawing a rough version of the male figure that really served as the point of the piece, something went awry. The first attempts had come off as musclebound and large in a way that didn't even seem possible, while the next had seemed like little more than a stick-figure stretched out to become a chair.

"Chair" really isn't the impression I'm aiming for here, she sighed.

The message she intended to convey was a simple one – if likely to be controversial in traditional society – that while men may serve as the symbols of authority among Purebloods, women wielded their own power as well. To properly show this meaning, she wanted to depict a male figure that was strong, powerful in its own way, but not dominant.

She literally smacked her head with her palm as soon as the words crossed her thoughts. It wasn't exactly difficult to figure out that she had partially-exclusive access to the perfect model for this kind of figure.

"Hey, Harry?" she wrote in her enchanted notebook, "if you're free, could you swing by my flat? Need a favour! Love you."

The words of affection came easily, and she smiled in a self-satisfied way, proud of herself both for realizing the way past her current painter's block and for somehow managing to find herself in such an… incredible relationship.

"Right, yeah," the response came shortly after, "I'll be by in ten. Love you too."

She set about staging the area, dragging tables away in one moment, transfiguring one of her kitchen chairs to serve as a suitable prop in the next. When Harry arrived through her Floo, she rushed to meet him, throwing her arms around his shoulders and excitedly explaining the realization she'd come to.

"Okay, sure," Harry kissed her briefly, "you want me to be a model for you? Of course!"

"Great!" Daphne beamed a grin, "so strip, and go have a seat!"

"Er," Harry hesitated, "a nude model, then?"

"Of course," she smirked as she pulled him in for another kiss, before slapping his bottom as a means of saying "hurry up".

She brought out her easel, attaching a sheet of black sketching paper to it and snatching up several pieces of coloured chalk.

"So, er, how should I sit?" Harry fidgeted, in the middle of undressing.

"Sit like a King," Daphne kept her instructions vague by intent, "however that feels to you."

Harry awkwardly did so, posing himself in an almost-certainly unintentional recreation of The Thinker instead. Rather than looking regal or powerful, he came off as "vaguely worried".

"So, you never told me," she decided to ply subtler means of manipulating him into place than simply pulling his arms and legs where she wanted, "what exactly led to you slaying that dragon?"

"Oh, uh," Harry squirmed, but at least he didn't fuss with his hair, "You remember how I traveled the continent for a while, yeah? I was in Bulgaria, visiting Viktor, when the Romanian Court reached out to me through him."

"Interesting! Why's that?"

"Well, they were having a spot of dragon trouble, yeah?" Harry chuckled awkwardly, "apparently the dragon responsible had a bit of a legend around it, something about being 'slayed by the man of portents', or however that goes in Romanian."

"And that meant you?"

"Anyone who had a prophecy about them, really," Harry shrugged, but when he sat back in the chair, his body language was more open, less tense, "I imagine there's probably a few hundred 'chosen ones' running around Europe at any point, by that metric."

"Still, that sounds impressive to me, being sought out for your destiny. Are the Romanian Lords like ours?"

"Oh, uh," Harry's previous relaxation vanished for a moment, before it spread over him again, "well, they put me in contact with the one who had actually ordered the dragon-slaying, and, er," he grinned awkwardly, "no, not like our Purebloods at all, him."

"Him?"

"The King of the Dragon Court," Harry explained.

Daphne racked her brain at the same time as she started making preliminary lines on her sketch paper. Harry now looked strong in the way she was seeking to capture, but not exactly powerful in the same way she imagined.

When her memories connected the title with the appropriate figure, the piece of chalk snapped in her fingers.

"You met with Lord Dracula?" Daphne felt like, somehow, this shouldn't have surprised her, with how ridiculous Harry's life was, and yet it was absolutely not what she had expected.

"Met is a strong term," Harry chuckled nervously, "he told me where the dragon's lair was, demanded I slay it, and promised to reward me once I had done so, and then dismissed me."

"So, uh, your dragonhide armour?"

"Yeahhh," Harry smiled awkwardly, slouching into his seat now, idly crossing a leg as he did, "crafted by one of Dracula's armourers. Hard to do better than that, I figure."

"Hmm," Daphne had an idea, "and your compact is… complete? What if he calls on you again? Maybe takes a personal interest?"

There!

The challenge to Harry caused a moment where he hardened in some inscrutable way, sitting forward slightly, his posture simply changing as he became the exact image of the kind of power she wished to capture.

"The deal was fulfilled," Harry answered, his voice as strong as iron, "he won't call on me again."

"Harry, stay just like that," Daphne ordered, her chalk flying over the paper.

"Oh, uh, okay," he immediately reverted to his usual tone, but thankfully retained his commanding pose. The lines practically drew themselves on her page, so easy was it for Daphne to finally draw the idea she'd been wrestling with.

"Okay, that's perfect!" she announced cheerfully, "thanks so much, love."

"Heh, just glad to help," Harry shrugged, "anything else you need?"

With the surge of energy she felt from overcoming this problem, a particular need had certainly reasserted itself.

While Harry was still seated, before he could dress himself, she crossed over to the "throne", leaning down to kiss him thoroughly, her hands tracing over his bare chest as their tongues danced together.

"Mmm," Daphne moaned, "let me show my appreciation."

She peppered kisses down his abdomen, taking note (as an artist) of the way his muscles flexed and layered over top of each other, and (as Daphne) of the dusting of goosebumps that had sprung up along his legs.

He wasn't quite hard when she took his member into her mouth, but he wasn't far off. Daphne enjoyed feeling him grow stiff against her tongue, hollowing her cheeks and circling her lips as she sucked at the head of his cock.

She pulled back with a pop as her lips left his manhood, only to immediately dive back in, flattening her tongue along the underside of his cock, sliding him deeper and deeper until she felt his blunt tip prodding against the back of her mouth. As she drew breath through her nostrils, she relaxed those muscles, pushing her head even further forwards, taking him into her throat in slow, steady progress.

"Fuck, Daph," he groaned above her, as she slid him back out of her mouth, stroking his now-slick member with both her hands as she paused for breath, "that's really good."

"Mm," she licked up from the base of his cock to his head, luxuriating in the way that he twitched in her hands, "stand up."

As Harry did so, Daphne practically tore her own shirt and bra off, leaving her skirt on, but hurriedly pulling her panties off and throwing them aside.

Harry closed the distance between them, bringing her into a heated kiss, his hands pulling her skirt up over her torso and exposing her own sex. With the closeness of their embrace, his cock slid between her legs, its length pressing up against her pussy, the heat and hardness of it practically driving her wild.

"Fuck me," Daphne commanded, and Harry chuckled wryly as he reached between them to try and guide his cock inside of her.

"Bit tricky, this position," he commented, their similar heights proving to be just close enough to the correct angle. While Daphne certainly enjoyed feeling him sliding against her, she wanted him inside. She lifted one of her legs, wrapping it around Harry's back, one of his coarse hands supporting the underside of her thigh as the other finally aimed his cock accurately, pushing into her slowly.

"Yessss," Daphne hissed in contentment, feeling the now-familiar stretch as Harry finally thrust the entirety of his length inside her.

"Hmm," Harry murmured into her ear, "I wanna try something. Give me your other leg?"

"How do you mean?" Daphne was quite content in this position, standing face-to-face with Harry, one of her legs wrapped around his hips.

"Like this," was all that he explained, before his other hand gripped the leg she was standing on, and she found herself lifted into the air, her arms wrapping behind Harry's neck for support.

"Fuck," she breathed, "I like this."

Daphne was rarely self-conscious of her height, but she'd definitely come to understand during her time with Harry and (more specifically) Pansy that certain positions were made easier when one partner was larger than the other. It wasn't frequent in their dynamic that she'd wind up "topping" Pansy, but when she did, Daphne certainly enjoyed physically controlling her petite girlfriend.

She hadn't really mulled over the possibility of having it done to her in detail before this moment, so Daphne simply hadn't expected Harry to be so easily capable of lifting her up like this. As he began to thrust into her, his hips moving forcefully enough to clap off her arse even as he carried her, she immediately realized that she very much liked being (quite literally) man-handled.

"Harry," she whined, "fuck me against the wall. Please? Can you do that for me?"

The coquettish act clearly worked as she desired, as he easily (Merlin, fuck) carried her across the room, all the while his cock remained sheathed in her. By the time he pushed her back against the wall, she was already practically at her first climax, and it took no more than a few strong thrusts to get her the rest of the way there.

"You do like this, don't you?" Harry chuckled, slowing his pace to rock against her instead.

"Fuck, I had no idea," Daphne giggled, "don't slow down on my account."

He kissed her fiercely as his hips began to move with purpose once again, and Daphne lost herself in a haze of pleasure. Once more, she was grateful that she was so easy to get off, as her second orgasm of the night already started building behind the first. Maybe you two are just that good, she mused, as Harry's thrusts began to grow erratic.

"I'm close," she whispered to him, clinging even tighter against his body, "cum in me, Harry."

"Fuck, yes," Harry groaned, hilting himself even deeper than before (somehow), and when Daphne felt his cock twitch inside of her, it was the final stimulation she needed to meet his climax with her own.

"Damn," Harry chuckled mirthfully, "if that's how you reward your assistants, I'll have to do some more modeling for you in the future."

"Oh, hush," Daphne giggled, as he lowered her to stand on her own (shaky) legs once again, "only the ones I really like."

"Should I bring Pansy along next time, then?"

"Please, the two of you would just start shagging each other instead of modeling."

"Yeah, and you'd like to watch," Harry cracked a grin.

"I would," she leaned in to kiss him again, "thank you. You helped more than you know."

"I'm glad, you're doing great, you know!"

"We'll see about that, but I appreciate it."

"You getting back to work?"

"Yeah, sorry," Daphne sighed, "I'll be able to spend more time with you two soon, but until this is finished… my schedule is tight."

"Not a problem," Harry kissed the top of her head, before awkwardly hopping back into his pants, "seriously, it's not a worry. We know this is important to you, so we support it."

"Thank you," she smiled, "I love you two, you know?"

"We love you too," Harry pulled her in for a quick hug, before turning to depart, "I'd better get an early night anyways, so don't you mind me."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," his grin was wild when he disappeared into the flames of the Floo, "I'm taking Pans flying tomorrow."

---

Pansy

Despite the cold, grey, gloomy skies, Pansy was absolutely thrilled.

She held the broomstick that Harry had got her for Christmas in both hands, idly running her fingers over the glossy surface.

"Right, so it's got the full suite of usual comfort charms and all that, but this model has some pretty wicked acceleration charms built in," Harry explained, a gleam in his eye, "they don't play super well with the stabilization runes, though, so mind the corners, it's easier than you'd think to blow a turn."

"Of course," Pansy answered, swinging one of her legs over the broom, "keep in mind, Harry, I haven't flown a broom in, oh, at least a decade by now."

"Flying a broomstick is not a ladylike pursuit," she recalled the words. Apparently, neither was watching Quidditch, or doing better in Potions than the boy that you were oh-so-certainly supposed to marry.

True, Draco was a deft hand at Potions by his own ability alone, but the Parkinson family was known for their potion-crafting, and that had been reduced to nothing but one of the many traits of herself that her parents had insisted she smother for their sake.

"Well, I'm sure you'll handle it," Harry chuckled, "and I'll be right behind you, yeah?"

"You sure will," she drawled, patting the broomstick behind her, "hop on, Potter."

"Er?"

Pansy rolled her eyes, though she felt a sly smile form on her lips at the same time.

"While I am absolutely thrilled that you got me a high-powered, experimental broom," she told him, "and also thrilled that you just assume I can handle it, a girl's got to be realistic sometimes. I haven't flown in too long to trust myself not to crash into your damn roof."

"Oh, uh, sure."

"Besides," Pansy purred, as Harry hopped on the broom behind her, pulling her in close as he reached over to grip the head of the broomstick, "I'll reward you if you teach me."

She whooped in glee as they lurched into the air, the take-off becoming smoother and more refined as Harry – presumably – also re-acquainted himself with flying. Pansy quickly reached up to pull her flying goggles over her eyes, before they suddenly took to the sky in an exhilarating rush.

Some may have characterized her laughter as "cackling", but whatever the phrase, Pansy started crying out in mirth as soon as Harry began to take them through long, winding loops, practically shrieking in joy when he flew a tight corkscrew, the world whirling around them.

Fuck, I've missed this feeling.

Harry's skills as a flier had apparently held up quite well over the years, bringing to mind the memories of all the times that she'd booed and jeered at him as he nearly-singlehandedly dismantled the Slytherin Quidditch team.

Look at me now.

Circling through the air over 12 Grimmauld Place, Pansy's heart thumped in her ears loud enough to hear it over the rush of wind in her face, the excitement of sheer speed something that few other sensations lived up to.

She was almost disappointed when, after what felt like seconds, Harry brought them to a stop, lingering in the air above his house.

"You having fun?" Harry murmured over her shoulder.

She absolutely was, but also began to realize that they'd been flying for longer than she'd kept track of, the chill in the air having begun to seep through her thick sweater and into her skin. Pansy chose to press her hips backwards, wiggling her arse against Harry's groin.

"I'm absolutely, completely chuffed," Pansy answered, "but I think we should get inside. I want to ride a different broomstick now."

"Heh," Harry chuckled into her ear, "that was awful, Pans. I love it."

He brought them down into the backyard, and Pansy felt herself stagger when she attempted to walk, the pull of gravity having apparently become unfamiliar to her from their brief flight.

Absolutely going to do this again, she thought.

Inside, Harry disappeared to the kitchen while she ensconced herself on his couch, returning with two mugs of cocoa. With a healthy pour of whiskey, too, she smiled, happily sipping on the warm beverage. The pair simply sat in silence for a few minutes, comfortable in each other's' presence, letting the heat return to their bodies.

Right, I'm probably warmed up enough.

Without words, she turned to Harry, setting her mug down on the table. As he did the same, she gently guided him backwards, until he was laying on his back and she straddled his hips.

"That was brilliant," she told him, rubbing her hands on either side of the face, giggling as she saw him flinch at the touch of her still-cool fingertips. Pansy leaned down, capturing his lips in hers, a gentle, slow kiss compared to her usual approach.

Harry's hands ran slowly along her thighs, coming to rest on her arse and giving her a firm squeeze as they continued to kiss, their tongues gently pressing against each other at a relaxed pace. She trailed her hand down his chest, bringing it to linger over his groin, where – when she gave an exploratory grope – she found him already hard under his fitness trousers.

I made those for him, she amused herself with the thought, so I might as well take them off.

Running her fingers under his waistband, she slowly began to peel the stretchy trousers and his underpants down at once, lifting her hips to allow him to raise his own to aid the process. She felt a thrilling, surprising cool touch as his own hands – still a bit chilly – found their way under her pants, pulling them over her hips, down her thighs.

She extended her legs, helping him to disrobe her, as she pulled her chunky, warm sweater off, tossing it to the end of the couch. Harry stared up at her with lust in his eyes, his gaze locked to her breasts. You see my tits more days than you don't, she giggled, and you still can't control yourself every time you see me naked. I love it.

Pansy leaned down to kiss him once more, reaching between them to line his cock up with her entrance. Though she usually enjoyed at least some kind of foreplay, on this occasion, she was more than ready even after a few moments of kissing.

"Mmm," she murmured contentedly as he slid inside her. She lowered her hips slowly, savouring the feeling of him filling her, his hands gently wrapped around the tops of her thighs. When their hips met and his cock was fully inside her, Pansy began to slowly roll her hips back and forth, the languid pace so unlike her usual preferences.

She shivered, but didn't stop her motions, when he ran one of his cool hands up her torso, coming to rest on her breast, gently cupping her sensitive flesh. With the lingering chill on their skin, her nipples stood out hard from her tits, the glittering silver of her piercings pleasing even to Pansy's own eyes.

Smirking, she leaned forward to kiss Harry once again, changing the angle of their hips so that she could begin to slowly lift and drop herself on top of him, maintaining her slow, almost lazy pace all the while. One of his hands repositioned from her thigh to wrap around her arse, and she cooed in pleasure as he squeezed her.

Planting a hand on his chest for leverage, Pansy straightened once more, finally beginning to increase the pace she was riding him, letting small "ah" and "ooh" sounds escape her lips as she felt herself stretch around his cock, glad that he was on the same page on which she found herself in this moment.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," Harry breathed, and she felt a blush spread through her goosebump-covered skin.

"You're really good looking," she praised him, ramping up the motion of her hips a bit more, a shudder running through her as Harry's cock ground against a particularly sensitive spot in her cunt. When she pitched forward against his chest, taking his face between her hands again, pressing a needy kiss to his lips, he stepped in effortlessly to take over the pace, rolling his hips in a sinuous motion that plunged him deep even though he wasn't thrusting hard.

She looked him in the eyes as she broke, her climax exploding through her, making her legs twitch around his hips. The fire she saw in his eyes, perhaps, contributed just as much to the intensity of this orgasm as did his (in her opinion) perfect cock.

"I'm close," Harry murmured.

"Good," she smirked, kissing him again, and beginning to bounce up and down in his lap. True to his word, he didn't last long, and she felt a secondary aftershock of her first orgasm trace its way up her spine when he came inside her.

"Mmm," she hummed her own contentment.

She considered herself fairly experienced in sex: while there was certainly a long list of things she still wanted to try with Daphne and Harry, the fact of the matter was that Pansy had fucked her fair share of people, had slept with a few, had shagged others; whatever the euphemism was, she'd probably done it.

Pansy was not convinced that, until the last couple weeks, she'd ever made love before, but she was coming to find that she might have somewhat of a taste for it.

When Harry wordlessly summoned a heavy blanket from across the room, draping it over both of them as she cuddled into his chest, all she could do was sigh happily as she felt a post-sex nap overtaking them.

I think I still prefer it a bit hard and rough, she hazily thought, but I could get used to this, I suppose.

Pansy was significantly less content a few days later, fuming as she stomped around the back room at Serpentine. She'd been trying for hours to get a particularly tricky little waterproofing charm working correctly, but even her latest attempts had ended in ignoble failure.

The aim was to design a lady's parasol, all delicate black lace, which would nevertheless stand up to the worst elements. True, a simple waterproofing charm applied to someone's own person served much the same function, but it wasn't stylish in the way she was picturing.

Her current effort, which merely collected water in an ungainly pool above the parasol, would serve to do nothing but transform its user from "elegant and haunting figure in the rain" to "drowned rat" as soon as they closed the parasol and dumped several buckets of water over their head.

"I need help." she penned a message into her notebook, "Could either of you deliver some whisky? Maybe help with a charm?"

After a few moments, Daphne's reply came through.

"Yeah, I need to get away for a bit anyways. I'll bring a drink! Harry, you free?"

"Sorry, wrapped up in a report, you two have fun!" her boyfriend's answer came.

Not that seeing her girlfriend instead was any kind of disappointment; indeed, it might be a good chance to spend some time one-on-one, considering how busy both she and Daphne had been of late.

Sure enough, Pansy's frustration lifted the instant that Daphne walked through the doors into the back of Serpentine, a bottle of firewhisky in her hand, and a bright smile on her face.

"Hey, sweet," Pansy greeted her, hopping off a table to give Daph a quick hug and kiss, "thanks for popping by. Driving myself absolutely fucking mental, I'm afraid."

"Oh?" Daphne just continued to smile easily, her persistent ability to be unbothered by frustrations something that Pansy envied.

"Yeah, I'm trying to make a stupid magical umbrella," Pansy gestured to the latest failed parasol experiment as she hopped back up onto her desk, "but I can't get the waterproofing charms right. Either it leaks through the holes in the lace, or the charm catches water too well, makes a fucking swimming pool above your head."

"Hmm," Daphne crossed the room to inspect the object, twirling it in her hands, tapping a couple parts with her wand, "I've got an idea, if you'd like?"

"Please," Pansy was not too proud to accept Daphne's help.

"Okay, I think what you want is an impermeability charm combined with a permeation charm. I know that sounds contradictory, but what it should do is absorb into the lace, here, but water should slide off of it, rather than getting caught in the effective radius of a waterproofing charm…"

"Fuck, you're brilliant," Pansy complimented her girlfriend, feeling a surge of pride at the way Daphne beamed under her praise, "I never would've thought of that. It's a good thing one of us three has some brains, yeah?"

"Hush, you," Daphne tsked, "you're absolutely sharp as a tack, I haven't half the eye for fashion that you do, let alone designing it all."

"Well, everyone has their talents, I suppose."

"Right, for example… Harry's very intelligent when it comes to…"

"Ensnaring Slytherin women?"

"I was going to say practical magic, the man's actually come up with some pretty impressive purpose-built charms," Daphne smirked, "but he does have a way with that, doesn't he?"

"Perish the thought," Pansy chuckled, "you got time for a drink?"

"Oh, absolutely," Daphne uncorked the bottle, "I should get back in an hour or so, but you know how you can't force creativity, of course."

"Naturally," Pansy smirked as Daphne walked closer to pass her the bottle of whisky, the way that her girlfriend pressed against her surely just a coincidence, and certainly not that the blonde witch was feeling a bit lonely due to her recent business.

Merlin, I remember giving Harry a whole speech about not getting too attached or having feelings about any of this, she recalled, shaking her head at her own foolishness, look at us now.

"You're a brilliant assistant," Pansy took a healthy swig of firewhisky, before turning to set the bottle down beside herself. When she turned back to Daphne, who remained standing beside Pansy (seated on her desk), she noticed a corresponding fire in her girlfriend's eyes.

"Well, you need someone to cover for your lackluster charms, don't you?"

Oh, it's like this, is it?

"Oh, you've got a sharp tongue," Pansy chided, running her hand up Daphne's back delicately, "pity it isn't being put to better use."

When her hand reached Daphne's long blonde hair, currently tied into a ponytail, her grip tightened, pulling Daphne's head back sharply.

"I've got no idea what you mean, Miss Parkinson," Daphne gasped, "but as you said, we all have our talents. I'm sure you have yours."

Pansy leaned in to bite at the side of Daphne's neck, only for her girlfriend to gasp, saying "you can't". Even though this wasn't one of their safewords, Pansy still paused, a brief moment of hesitation stopping her.

"You can't," Daphne repeated, "I'm your assistant, and you're my boss, Miss Parkinson…"

Fuck, you just keep getting better at pushing my buttons, Pansy thought, a vicious grin spilling over her features, as she lunged back towards Daphne's neck, biting her delicate flesh hard enough that it was sure to leave a reminder for the blonde.

"That's right, Miss Greengrass," Pansy practically hissed, "I'm your boss, which means I'm in charge here. Kneel."

"P-pardon?" Daphne asked, her eyes wide, affecting a shocked look even though Pansy caught the way she rubbed her thighs together.

"On your knees," Pansy brought her hand down on Daphne's arse – hard – as a means of encouragement, "now."

Daphne hurried to obey, looking up at Pansy with her gorgeous blue eyes, trying her hardest to look afraid of what Pansy might do to her. Just as she was sure her girlfriend wanted, Pansy swung her legs apart, keeping one hand tightly gripped in Daphne's hair while the other frantically worked to pull her own panties off.

"Lick." Pansy commanded, and Daphne made a show out of shaking her head from side to side, an over-exaggerated "oh noooo" gesture.

You're fucking perfect, sweet.

Pansy dragged her girlfriend's head between her legs roughly, trapping her there by clenching her thighs around the blonde's head, sighing happily when – despite the earlier act – Daphne began to eagerly lap at her pussy, her talented tongue tracing up between Pansy's lips to circle around her clit.

"Now, if you have any talent at all," Pansy drawled, "it certainly isn't in eating pussy. I said lick!"

She punctuated the command with a thrust of her hips, and, when she noticed the shudder that ran through Daphne when she did so, began to roughly saw her pussy back and forth over Daphne's face, doing her absolute best to face-fuck her girlfriend.

"That's better, Miss Greengrass," Pansy tried to remain imperious in her tone, though she knew her voice was hitching under Daphne's eager attention.

"Ffffuck," Pansy hissed as she reached climax more quickly than she'd anticipated, her legs – still wrapped around Daphne's head – quivering and twitching.

"I trust that was to your liking, Miss?" Daphne smirked as she rose from between Pansy's legs.

"Ah," Pansy attempted to sneer, but couldn't fight off a quick grin, "I see you require further discipline, for this insubordination."

She reached over to grab at Daphne once again, pleased that the blonde pretended to struggle, while subtly going along exactly with Pansy's attempt to restrain her. She brought her girlfriend over her knee, Daphne's spectacular arse thrust into the air. When Pansy peeled Daphne's own skirt up, she noticed that her girlfriend wasn't wearing underwear, the sight of which sent a whole new thrill through her.

Fuck, I love how easily we land on the same page.

"Since you were impertinent towards me six times, by my measure, this means you'll receive eighteen spankings. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Daphne answered, obediently.

"Yes…?"

"Yes, Miss Parkinson," Daphne sobbed, but a giggle worked its way into her acted "sorrow" nonetheless.

I fucking love you, Daph.

Pansy didn't let her mushy feelings get in the way of the scenario they were acting out: bringing her hand down hard on Daphne's left arse cheek, then repeating the action on the right. For a brief time, she amused herself by watching Daph's arse quiver under her hand, the fifth, sixth, and seventh spanks being closer to "polite taps" than anything else, but made up for it by putting genuine force behind the last three blows.

"You understand your role better now, I take it?"

"Yes, Miss Parkinson," Daphne's voice quivered in a way that couldn't all be acting, though not in a way that represented pain, "thank you, Miss Parkinson."

"Good girl," Pansy cooed, as she ran her hand gently over Daphne's red cheeks, before reaching between her legs without warning, and thrusting her middle two fingers inside Daphne's sex.

Merlin.

Her girlfriend was absolutely drenched, so Pansy added a third finger just as quickly, roughly plunging her digits into Daphne's needy cunt, stroking along her girlfriend's g-spot with every vicious thrust. It took seconds for Daphne to cum, moaning wantonly as she raised her arse into the air, her pussy clenching around Pansy's fingers.

The pair took a moment to catch their breaths, Daphne remaining sprawled over Pansy's lap, before she popped back to her feet, a wide grin on her face.

"Fuck, you caught on fast, babe," Daphne was positively giddy following her orgasm.

"You're a minx," Pansy teased, kissing her girlfriend gently, "got yourself a bit worked up, hey?"

"Oh, absolutely," Daphne giggled airily, "with all I have to do all day being painting, I've got so much time to think about what I want you to do to me. What I want Harry to do to me. To you. You know what I mean."

"Of course," Pansy interrupted Daphne's disjointed rambling with another kiss, "and I want to do everything you dream up."

"We're going to have a wild February, at this rate."

"I sure hope so," Pansy closed her arms around Daphne, hugging her tight, "I love your imagination. I love you."

"Love you too," Daphne cuddled closer, as the two women rode out the last of their afterglows together.