CHAPTER 21: BETWEEN SUBMISSION AND DEFIANCE
He leaned against the cold stone wall of Hogwarts, which was being warmed subtly by the castle's enchantments. Draped in the Invisibility Cloak, Harry waited patiently for Daphne to appear. According to the Marauder's Map, she should be leaving her Charms class any moment now. The map showed her moving purposefully towards the dungeons. Harry watched the seconds tick by: three, two, one... and there she was. Daphne strode with a proud demeanor, the sharp click of her three-inch black heels echoing in the corridor.
Harry flicked his wand with a soft, fluid motion, and the broom closet door creaked open. He swiftly guided her inside, his footsteps muffled by the cloak. With another incantation, he enlarged the space, conjured a thick, crimson cushion for the floor, and switched on the lights. He wanted to ensure everything was visible for what was about to unfold.
"Potter, what the hell is this?" Daphne's voice trembled slightly, her eyes darting around in alarm.
"I could ask you the same thing," Harry replied coolly, his tone steely. "I've just been ambushed by Malfoy, Flint, and Crabbe in the Dead Hogwarts."
Daphne's brows knitted together in confusion. "What does that have to do with me?"
"Well," Harry said, leaning closer, "I had a chat with the little birds, and they sang quite a tune. Tracey sent them."
Daphne's face paled, her composure faltering. "That's... that's not true."
"Is it?" Harry's gaze was unyielding. "I used Legilimency and saw Tracey's memory. She was clearly instructing them to take me down. Seems she's aware of our little encounter on the train and wanted to give me a warning. Sound familiar? What did you think would happen when you confided in her?"
"I didn't tell her anything!" Daphne's voice rose with desperation. "She's being framed. This is a setup!"
Harry's smirk widened. "Oh really? So you didn't tell her about our intimate meeting? How you were covered in... well, let's just say it wasn't exactly polite dinner conversation. Did you not mention how you tasted the aftermath? Pure magic, wasn't it?"
Daphne's face flushed with a mixture of anger and humiliation. "I did no such thing, Potter. Spare me your pathetic fantasies."
"Fantasies or not, it doesn't change the fact that I'm here to settle a score." Harry's voice hardened. "I can take my pound of flesh from you, or I can take it out of Tracey. We had an agreement—you wanted my protection. But on the very first day, your lover orchestrated an attack against me?"
Daphne's eyes flashed with both defiance and fear. "You're making a huge mistake. Tracey is being manipulated. If you think this is how you get back at her, you're wrong."
Harry's expression remained impassive. "Mistake or not, you're the one who's going to pay the price unless you can prove otherwise."
Daphne took a deep breath, struggling to compose herself. "If you have any sense left, you'll listen to me. There's more at play here than you realize."
"Make your case," Harry said, his voice cold but tinged with a hint of curiosity. "You've got one chance to convince me before I make my decision."
Daphne's eyes were downcast, her expression a mix of frustration and fear. "That's not what happened," she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper.
"Isn't it?" Harry pressed, raising an eyebrow. "Then please, enlighten me. What actually happened?"
Daphne remained silent, her gaze fixed on the floor. She was clearly torn between defending her friend and protecting herself.
Harry's patience was wearing thin. "So, here's the deal," he continued, his tone becoming sharper. "I can either declare a Feud of Houses with House Davis. That would ensure that Tracey won't be able to find work anywhere reputable after leaving Hogwarts, and she won't be allowed to enter any of the properties owned by House Potter in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade. Or…" He paused for dramatic effect, his eyes glinting. "You can make this situation easier for both of us. The choice is yours."
Daphne's face flushed with anger and embarrassment. "Potter, Harry," she began, trying to placate him. "Please, there has to be another way."
Harry's smirk widened, and he gestured towards the cushion he had conjured. "There's the cushion. Aren't I the gentleman?" he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. The cushion was a luxurious deep red with gold tassels, prominently displaying the Potter family crest.
Daphne took a deep, shuddering breath and reluctantly sank to her knees, her eyes filled with a mixture of defiance and resignation. "Fuck you, Potter," she muttered, her voice low and tremulous.
"Good choice," Harry said, his tone now almost affectionate. "I can tell you were eager for your next taste." With a flick of his wand, he was completely naked, his body relaxed but his arousal evident. He grabbed Daphne's long, glossy brunette hair, appreciating its smoothness.
"You have beautiful hair," Harry said sincerely, his voice softer now. He gathered her hair gently, using it to guide her face closer to him. His cock traced over her skin—across her forehead and down her cheeks—leaving a glistening trail of his pre-cum. Daphne trembled slightly, her eyes revealing a flicker of desire despite her attempts to stay composed. A brief probe with Legilimency confirmed the warmth of her reaction.
Her lips parted slightly, the bee-stung pinkness accentuating her discomfort and reluctance. "The boys in Gryffindor say you have DSLs," Harry said with a smirk, his amusement evident. "That means 'dick-sucking lips.' Ready to prove them right?"
Daphne glared up at him, her eyes blazing with indignation. She hesitated, but then hesitantly extended her tongue, making contact with the tip of his cock. Her movements were tentative and nervous, clearly a novice in this encounter. She held his cock for support at first, but her hands soon began to explore its veins.
Harry held her head firmly, reminding her of her position. "It's not a lollipop, sweetheart. Get it in your mouth," he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Daphne's body shook slightly. "I don't know if it will fit," she admitted in a trembling voice, her uncertainty palpable.
Harry's eyes softened just a fraction, but his expression remained resolute. "You'll manage," he said, his voice firm but not unkind. "Just take it one step at a time."
"It will. Mother Magic gave you dick sucking lips, they'll stretch to fit me, believe me."
"You don't need to be so crass!" Daphne growled.
Harry sniffed. "You don't need to be so slow. Do you really want to be caught in here?" There was no chance of that, he'd put on a locking charm, but she didn't need to know that.
Her eyes widened and she gathered her courage, putting his whole purple head into her mouth, with a muffled "Gurrk." She started suckling on his head, her lips closed around his mushroom, her tongue slowly coating it, her eyes closed.
In her head, she felt almost drunk, his manly aroma, his magic, infiltrating her mind. She felt possessed, the smallest tinge of precum she'd tasted like pure butter. Daphne knew she was in trouble. She could get addicted to that taste, that smell. But it was different to the last time, though just as good. But why? She withdrew.
"You smell different." She murmured, then blushed furiously.
Harry smiled at her knowingly. "I didn't shower after last nights and this mornings fun. A lot of women want a piece of this, you know."
Rage, hot and searing, pushed through her. She was Daphne Greengrass, Daddy's little girl, the Princess of Slytherin. She was meant to be worshipped, adored, kissed and caressed. Not sucking on the dried out cum of this asshole's dalliances with some other whore. She opened her mouth to snarl, but he only pushed his cock in when her lips were parted, and suddenly that taste, that smell, consumed her rage and killed it dead. It was divine.
The tip of her tongue extended further, around his shaft, lapping at the dried cum, lapping at the fresh precum, her hands slowing, subconsciously, jacking his cock at the same time.
Harry allowed himself to enjoy the sight of Daphne as she suckled, her blouse a little parted to expose her delicious breasts in a lacy white bra, her skirt having rose up a little on her unbelievably bountiful ass. It was truly absurd, the fattest ass he'd ever seen on such a slim girl, bulging and begging to be smacked. One day, he promised himself.
After ten minutes, Harry decided to change tactics. Her suckling sensation was lovely, but he didn't want to go easy on her - he suspected there were greater depths to be found in Daphne Greengrass. He withdrew.
"No," Daphne whined.
"No?" Harry teased.
"I mean, no time for your freakishly dead cock-nerves, Potter, aren't you close to coming?" Daphne tried to recover.
Harry snorted. "I asked for a blowjob, slut, not for my cockhead to be lollipopped. I can't believe you're useless at both handjobs and blowjobs, you're going to need a lot of training before I find you worthy of my time."
He could tell his shot had landed, as she started questioning herself. Was she really unable to pleasure a man? Outwardly, though, she spat at him. "There's no training to be had, Potter. This is a one time deal, for my family and for Tracey. I couldn't give less of a fuck if I don't satisfy your disgusting perversions."
"Well, I'm not going to cum like this, so I'm just going to have to use your mouth." He gathered up her hair again, wrapping it around his clenched fist.
"No, wait, Pott-" Daphne started before he thrust his cock forward. He distorted her mouth into an unhealthy position, stretching it so wide he could see the whites of her teeth, further and further.
"Oh, fuck." Harry muttered, the wetness of her mouth getting to him. He pulled on her hair, dragging her further as she gagged, struggling with the sheer size of his cock. But there was still so much to go. "My good little Slytherin slut, such a good girl for me." Harry said, feeling like he was in a trance himself. He thrust his cock further, making her heave, obscene sounds emanating as he reached her throat.
"Urrrk," She gagged, as Harry withdrew and thrust again, repeating the motion with a wet schlop schlop schlop as he fucked her throat. Her eyes teared up, but her hands squeezing the base of his shaft, her mind swimming.
"Tonguing Tracey's sweet clam doesn't quite compare to this, does it? A real cock down your throat. What would she think?" Harry taunted. Finally, he withdrew, too close to cumming.
Daphne gasped for breath, hands on his calves for support. He tilted her head up, pointing as his cock, where a line of glistening saliva and wetness, along with a soft red lipstick imprint, showed how far Daphne had descended on his cock. To her dismay, she realized she'd not reached the base.
"You'll have to do better than that, slut. If I'm not satisfied by your performance, I'll have no choice but to see if Tracey can do better."
Daphne didn't reply, light-headed, still wondering how she'd found herself in this position, just moments ago casually walking Hogwarts hallways, now being throat-fucked by Gryffindor's Golden Boy. Her pristine makeup was smeared around her face, her lipstick smudged beyond repair, lips themselves swollen by Harry's abuse. Harry thwacked with his cock, precum spattering her, before inserting it casually between her lips, as she took deep, heavy breaths. Even his precum was freakish, Daphne thought, almost like a full cum-load from a normal wizard. Pansy had shared dirty magazines with the Slytherin girls, and they'd giggled and mocked at the moving photos as some poor girl got glazed by Randy Roger, the Wizarding World's most famous, old, much derided, pornstar. Daphne had found it difficult to laugh at the mustachioed old man, flexing his muscles, a man stuck in the 70s, and had felt nothing as he let out a few dribbles over the girl's face. Randy Roger was famous for his big cum loads, but he barely produced more than Potter's precum, constantly leaking, spurting, splattering her.
Her mouth was full of his cum, and she had to swallow constantly, but in a way, it was the only thing saving her, providing a neverending supply of thick, gooey jizz to lube her battered throat. Worst of all, it tasted incredible, pure magic from the Wizarding World's most ancient House. Potter magic was famous for a reason, and she could feel her magic pools rejuvenated, her very veins detoxifying. And the smell, strong, rich scent of man, clouded her very mind.
Harry had gotten bored of the break he'd given her, and without warning, he forced his cock again deep into her mouth, down her throat, but this time he was giving no mercy. He had both hands in her hair, forcing her head back and forth, fucking her face. His long thick dick stretched down her tight gullet, Daphne trying to swallow but only succeeding in making it even more tight, more pleasurable for his questing shaft. Saliva and strings of cum dribbled from her lips, a white gloop descending from her chin and onto her blouse, her chest.
Harry sighed, in paradise, feeling like he was unleashing his very soul. On and on it went, spewing down his spunk, a tap that he couldn't turn off, her stomach filling up like a car being filled with petrol. This was her place in life. She swam, barely conscious, just making swallowing motions, inhaling, as Harry withdrew a little with every spurt of his jizz, until he was out of her throat, and just cumming into his mouth.
"Mmmm—" Daphne moaned as she ingested his cum, lapping, swallowing, eyes closed with pleasure, only barely cognisant of where she was, what she was swallowing. She just needed more of the magic, rich, gooey seed. And then it was gone, Harry laughing as she felt him paint her face with the last few shots.
Harry directed his cock over her forehead, her cheeks, painting with his gloopy ropes, thickly coating her in her cream, over her closed eyelids, watching it drizzle down slowly, until her whole face was covered white, dark hair stuck in places to her skin with the glue, face barely recognizable under the sheer mass of it.
Daphne moaned, feeling like she was about to faint. How long had he just came for? It felt like both seconds and hours had passed. What had she done? How could she face Potter after this? Or Tracey? Or her family? Yet when Potter placed his finally-finished cock in her mouth, she suckled obediently, cleaning him until he pushed her back. Harry hid his smirk at her submissiveness; he hadn't even performed the ritual bond yet, he'd need to cum inside her for that, but she couldn't deny the feelings of safety, of warmth, that his powerful magic gave her. In his head, he thanked Morgana again, for creating the dynamic of witches under wizards - too long had it been forgotten.
He gently pushed Daphne away when she'd cleaned him, and if she was in a trance, she pulled back, hugging herself. With a soft gasp, she noticed the new state of her stomach, curved out, inflated with his seed.
"How?" She murmured, oddly calm. She stroked her stomach softly, entranced.
"You drank all that, Daphne."
"What are you?" Daphne asked wondrously, idly swiping some of his cum globs from her eyes, still on her knees, leaning against his legs.
"That's how powerful I am." He stroked her hair gently, and Daphne marveled at this sudden change in him—from a throat-abuser to a benevolent hair stroker. It was as if he possessed two faces, each one both frightening and arousing in its own way. "That's what I'm offering you."
He scooped up some of his thick essence with two fingers and brought them to her lips. Daphne felt her heart race as she sealed her lips around his fingers, the taste igniting something deep within her.
"A place at your knees?" she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.
"A place at my side," he corrected her smoothly.
Daphne leaned against his legs, surrendering to the moment, too exhausted to maintain the pretense that it didn't feel good, that she didn't want his touch.
"You wouldn't take me as Lady Potter; the public relations wouldn't work," she argued, trying to maintain some semblance of logic in the midst of her turmoil.
"Maybe, maybe not. It's too early to say," he replied, his gaze unwavering. "But that's not the position I'm talking about. I'm speaking of you as my most trusted advisor, my enforcer."
"Your right hand," she suggested, a hint of defiance in her tone.
"No," he corrected firmly. "My wand when I need to cast. My scout when I need to see. My stick when the carrot doesn't work."
"Why me?" Daphne questioned, curiosity mixing with skepticism.
"You're smart, powerful. You're not innocent, and you're not easily swayed. I need an enforcer I can trust to do what's necessary, to ensure that it never gets back to me," he explained, his voice low and compelling.
"But the Greengrass name is too public for me to become what you want," she insisted, trying to assert her doubts.
Harry smiled mysteriously, his confidence radiating. "You don't yet understand how big I'm thinking, the scale of my ambitions. You're going to be the head of a team of hammers and scalpels."
Daphne felt a rush of disbelief as she contemplated his words, but before she could respond, she realized her blouse had burst open when her stomach filled, the buttons flying off in all directions. As she bent down to recover them, she stumbled, and just as she fell, she found herself landing in the lap of a suddenly seated Harry. The chair had appeared as if conjured without a word.
"Potter," she whined, feeling his hands begin to roam over her.
"What?" he replied, feigning innocence, a playful glint in his eye.
"I can't—I won't stop you. But please, don't take me," she pleaded, her voice a mixture of longing and desperation.
His hands slipped under her skirt, deftly maneuvering beneath her soaking thong. His fingers slid luxuriously through her wet petals, and she arched into his touch, overwhelmed by her heightened sensitivity.
"Just let go, Daphne," he murmured, his voice low and enticing. "Embrace what you desire."
"Okay, Daphne," he whispered, his breath warm against her ear, sending shivers down her spine. "But remember to think this through. You know as well as I do what witches want, especially Slytherin witches. You seek safety, and there's no place safer than under my wing. You desire power? I can offer you power beyond your wildest dreams. I can make you a witch who is feared, respected, and remembered throughout history."
Daphne shivered at his words, feeling as if he were reaching deep into her very essence.
"But there's a significant advantage to getting in early," he continued, his voice low and enticing. "Right now, I only have one witch who belongs to me. In a month? That could be ten. I'm not slowing down for anyone. If you wait too long…" He let the sentence hang in the air, the implication lingering between them.
"I understand," she moaned, feeling a mix of desire and urgency as he paused, leaving her hot and bothered. With a swift motion, Harry pulled her thong down her long, creamy legs, laying her gently on a conjured bed that appeared almost out of nowhere. Daphne blinked, awed by the strength of his magic; his movements were so swift that it felt as if she were living in a world of his creation.
Suddenly, he stood five feet away, and the chill of the room swept over her, contrasting sharply with the warmth still lingering in her core.
"Rest now," he commanded, his tone firm yet soothing. "The Locking Charm will hold until you're ready to leave. Your stomach should settle in a few hours. Allow your body to process all that magic. And before you take a nap, make sure you wipe the rest off your face—you'll appreciate the boost in power it gives you."
"Okay," Daphne replied, nodding, her mind racing. She entwined her legs instinctively, a desperate attempt to shield herself, feeling oddly self-conscious despite everything they had just shared. The warmth within her surged, traveling from her toes and enveloping her, igniting a craving she could hardly contain. She yearned for him to leave so she could indulge in her desires, one hand to pleasure herself and the other to savor his essence.
Harry smirked knowingly at her, as if he could see right through her thoughts. "I'll leave you to it," he said, his tone laced with playful challenge, before vanishing in an instant.
As he walked away, Harry couldn't suppress a grin. Progress. It was only a matter of time before she fully embraced her role. He could sense it in the way she looked at him, the way her body responded to his presence. Daphne was a natural submissive, a princess yearning for direction and purpose.
In his mind, he envisioned the future—a powerful partnership that could reshape their world. He was confident she wouldn't find a more fitting Master than him.
He paused, glancing back at her as she sat there, still wrapped in the aftermath of their encounter. The vulnerability in her gaze, the way she hugged herself, spoke volumes. She was lost yet undeniably drawn to him, her desire for guidance mingling with her instinct to resist.
"Embrace it, Daphne," he murmured under his breath, a hint of challenge lacing his tone. "You'll see how liberating it can be to submit."
With each step he took, he felt the thrill of power and the promise of what was to come. The connection between them was undeniable, and he was determined to cultivate it, knowing that the bond they would share would be unlike any other.
Harry left the room, anticipation buzzing in the air, ready to see how Daphne would navigate her new reality.
As Harry stepped out into the corridor, he felt the weight of expectation settle on his shoulders. The halls of Hogwarts were still bustling with students, but his mind was elsewhere, focused on Daphne and the potential that lay within her. He couldn't help but imagine the impact they could have together, the power they could wield.
He knew he had to tread carefully. Daphne was strong-willed, intelligent—qualities that could be both an asset and a challenge. But he was prepared. He would nurture her submissive side while also respecting her inherent strength. This delicate balance would be crucial if he wanted to ensure her loyalty and trust.
Meanwhile, back in the room, Daphne remained seated, still reeling from the whirlwind of sensations that had just enveloped her. She touched her stomach, feeling its fullness, a reminder of the intense encounter they had shared. A mix of confusion and exhilaration coursed through her veins. How had she ended up here, in such a vulnerable state, and why did it feel so intoxicating?
"Why do I feel like this?" she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. She felt as though she had stepped into a different world, one where her desires and fears were intertwined in a way she had never experienced before.
As the minutes passed, she found herself reflecting on Harry's words. The notion of being at his side, of embracing the role he had outlined for her, sent shivers down her spine. Could she truly surrender to him? The thought both terrified and thrilled her.
In that moment, she made a decision. She would explore this connection, allow herself to understand it more deeply. Maybe it was time to stop fighting the feelings stirring within her and instead embrace the possibilities.
"Okay, Harry," she murmured to herself, a spark of determination igniting in her chest. "Let's see where this leads."
With a newfound resolve, she stood up and smoothed out her blouse, taking a moment to gather herself. The smeared makeup and the disheveled state of her hair were reminders of the chaos she had just experienced, but they also served as symbols of her transformation.
"Next time, I'll do better," she promised quietly, a hint of a smile playing on her lips as she envisioned her next encounter with him. There was a thrill in knowing that she could push her boundaries and redefine her identity.
With that thought in mind, she stepped out of the room, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. She was no longer just Daphne Greengrass, a Slytherin trying to navigate the complexities of Hogwarts. She was becoming something more—something powerful, something connected to Harry.
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