CHAPTER 33: A DANCE WITH DARKNESS

Harry rested his Firebolt against the window pane after he jumped off, his heart twinging at the sound of Hermione's muffled sobs from behind her bed curtains. Flying up to the girls' dormitory had been easy, but now, standing in the dim light of her room, he felt like he was crossing a line. He hated hurting her—he hadn't wanted her to catch onto his other "interests." Still, he knew it was inevitable. If it hadn't been Katie, it would have been someone else. He'd accepted that sooner or later, his relationships would be out in the open. Perhaps it was even time for a "public" girlfriend to deflect attention from everything else he was doing.

He spoke, keeping his voice low. "Hermione."

The sobs stopped for a second before her voice shot back, thick with anger. "Go away, Harry!"

"I'm not going anywhere."

There was a pause, and then the curtains around her bed were thrown open. She was glaring at him, her eyes puffy and red.

"You told me I was special."

"You are special, Hermione."

"Clearly." She sniffed, looking away. "Is that what you tell all the girls? Do you buy them lingerie too? Do you… do you do what you did with me to them too?" The words came out like a challenge, a mix of anger and hurt.

Harry held her gaze, trying to stay calm. "I've only bought you lingerie, Hermione. But… you have to understand, it's complicated."

She cut him off, her voice rising. "I don't want to understand, Harry! I wanted to be… I thought I was different." Her hands clenched in her lap, her voice cracking. "And then I see you with Katie, and… how could you?"

Harry sighed, sitting on the edge of her bed, even though she looked ready to push him away. "Hermione, listen to me. You are different. None of this changes what we have."

"Then what am I, Harry?" she demanded, her face contorting with a mix of emotions. "One of your… conquests?"

"It's not like that," he replied, reaching out. "You're more than that to me. But this… this is who I am. You have to know that."

"Go away," she whispered, her voice barely audible now as she turned away, her fingers curling tightly around her wand. "I don't want you here. I don't want to hear it."

He hesitated, looking at her determined face, realizing that there was no way he could explain it to her right now. Not tonight. She needed time.

"Alright, Hermione," he said quietly. "I'll go. But just know… I do care about you. More than you know."

Without waiting for a response, Harry stood up, grabbed his Firebolt, and climbed back through the window, slipping into the chill of the night. The wind was sharp as he took off, biting through his clothes and sharpening his senses. He let it pull at him, loosening the tension that had settled in his chest since he left the party. Katie had been a welcome distraction—a flash of energy and confidence that pulled him out of his own head. She was fun, clever, and didn't take life too seriously. He thought she might even make a steady girlfriend; she was beautiful, poised, and came from a family with connections that might prove useful. Still, despite the thrill of speed and the crisp air, he couldn't shake the image of Hermione's tear-streaked face. That look—the one she'd tried so hard to hide from him—lingered at the edges of his mind, stealing away some of the night's lightness.

Pushing down his mixed feelings, he veered toward the edge of the wards and, with a single thought, Apparated directly into the Manor. A familiar warmth blossomed within him as his bond with Narcissa reawakened, reaching out to him as if sensing his arrival. The connection always left him feeling grounded, certain, even after the most chaotic days.

When he found her, Narcissa was a vision of elegance and allure, standing under the soft glow of the lounge lights. She wore a wine-red babydoll, sheer underneath the bralette, its intricate lacework an ornate display of roses against her pale skin. Her hair was half-up, pinned with her wand, the rest flowing in soft waves that gleamed under the light. She held a full wine glass, cradled loosely in her hand, and raised her head, sensing his gaze almost instinctively. Had she been waiting for him? Posing for him? His heart quickened.

"My love," she murmured, her voice as smooth as silk, stepping into his arms. There was no teasing this time, just a raw honesty that he found himself craving.

He pulled her closer, his hands sliding over her waist, his lips seeking hers. The familiar warmth of her magic thrummed between them, deepening as they lost themselves in each other. After long moments, she pulled back, breathless, pressing a hand to her neck where he'd left a trail of soft love bites.

"Narcissa, you're... absolutely stunning," he whispered, absently raising his hand to guide the spilled wine back into her glass. She watched, a faint smile playing on her lips.

"And I am yours," she replied softly, her voice threaded with the unbreakable loyalty between them. "But first... I have something for you."

Curiosity piqued, he let her lead him by the hand through the halls of the Manor. With every step, she glanced back at him, her fingers laced tightly through his, as if reassuring herself that he was there. They reached the lounge, and Harry stopped short, an eyebrow arching as he took in the scene.

Lucius lay bound and gagged in the center of the room, the thick ropes encircling his limbs like a cruel twist of fate. Beneath him, a green tarp stretched out across the floor.

Narcissa met Harry's gaze, a touch of wry amusement in her eyes. "I didn't want him staining the carpet," she explained, her hands still clinging to his. "I took it from the stables."

Harry looked at Lucius, the once-proud man now stripped of dignity, reduced to struggling against his bonds. His eyes flashed with disbelief and anger, his shouts muffled by the cloth gag. He was no longer the unyielding figure of power Harry had once known.

Narcissa's fingers tightened around his. "He's lost everything that ever mattered to him. It was only a matter of time until he came crawling back, thinking I'd be here, waiting." She laughed softly, a bitter edge to her tone. "He thought wrong."

Harry met her gaze, seeing the years of pain and betrayal etched into her features, her composure the only shield against the wounds Lucius had inflicted on her spirit.

"I suppose he thought he could use you to regain his power," Harry murmured, his hand coming up to brush a stray strand of hair from her cheek. "It's what he always does, isn't it? Uses people."

Narcissa's expression softened, and she tilted her head, meeting his touch. "Not this time. He's here only because I wanted him to see what he lost, the life he threw away."

Harry glanced back at Lucius, noting the fury burning in his eyes, but there was something else too—fear, a deep-seated fear that seemed to eclipse the man's pride. It was a look Harry knew well, one he'd seen on the faces of many who'd found themselves standing on the wrong side of fate.

Taking a deep breath, Harry looked back to Narcissa, letting his hand settle at the small of her back. "You've shown him who holds the power now," he said quietly.

She leaned into him, her voice barely a whisper. "And I intend to keep it that way."

"You've done well, my love," Harry replied, feeling a swell of pride as he watched her face light up, her urgent lips finding his in a kiss that sent sparks racing through him. The warmth of their connection surged, and for a moment, all his worries melted away.

"I love you so much," Cissy declared, her eyes shining with sincerity. Behind them, Lucius's muffled swearing only faded into the background, eclipsed by the intensity of their moment. Harry couldn't tear his gaze away from her, feeling as if nothing else mattered in the world.

"You've changed the wards?" Harry asked, his brow furrowing with concern. He didn't want Voldemort discovering this haven, this sanctuary they had built amidst the chaos.

"Of course," Narcissa assured him, her confidence radiating. "I had the Goblins change them out. They're now keyed only to us. Me, you, and—" She smirked, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Lucius is no longer on the list."

Harry scanned the room, his eyes resting on the classic chaise lounge, a centerpiece of opulence with its cream velvet padding. It looked inviting, but the current atmosphere was charged with a darker energy. He rotated it with a flick of his wand, the furniture gliding into place. Narcissa leaned over it without needing a command, her posture a perfect mix of playfulness and submission. Their bond felt stronger than ever; it was a testament to the trust and passion they shared.

She was on her hands and knees, looking back at him through her cascading hair, a vision of divine allure.

"Stay right there," he ordered, a playful authority in his voice. The thrill of the moment mixed with the power of their connection made him feel alive.

He approached Lucius, crouching down to meet his former mentor's furious gaze. The man was spitting and snarling, his normally pallid face flushed with rage.

"Lucius, old friend," Harry began, feigning a casual tone. "I must thank you—your wife has been an incredible host all summer. I've never had a more hospitable host." He glanced back at Narcissa, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Cissy, sweetheart, how many times have I had the pleasure of your company?"

"Never enough, my love," Narcissa chimed in, her voice laced with amusement as she leaned against the chaise, the very picture of sultry grace.

"She is truly special," Harry continued, turning his full attention back to her, tracing his thumb over her cheek and down to her lips. He watched as she kissed his thumb, sucking it gently between her red lips. Her eyes glimmered, a watery sheen forming as she soaked in his words, the weight of his admiration touching something deep within her.

Harry turned his gaze back to Lucius, a gleam of defiance in his eyes as he wandlessly summoned the gag from the man's mouth.

"You fucking brat!" Lucius choked out, his voice a hoarse rasp. "The Dark Lord will kill you and that whore—"

"How rude," Narcissa sniffed, a playful tilt to her head. "He's never felt the touch of a woman in love. He'll never understand what we have." The giddiness in her voice was palpable, as if she was floating on the very air around them. She had waited all day for this moment, and now that Harry was here, everything felt right.

Lucius's eyes widened in horror as the full implication of their words sank in. The power dynamic had shifted, and he was no longer the one holding all the cards. Harry reveled in the moment, feeling the pulse of victory thrumming through him.

"Love?" Lucius scoffed, his face twisting in contempt. "You think that love will protect you? The Dark Lord's wrath is a force of nature. You're a fool to believe you can escape it."

Harry stood, towering over Lucius, who was still bound and gagged. "I'm not running from anything anymore," he declared firmly, feeling the strength of his conviction solidify in the space between them. "I've found something worth fighting for."

Narcissa stepped beside him, her presence a shield of warmth and strength. "And together, we will make sure that he understands the consequences of his actions." Her voice was low, fierce, and unyielding.

Lucius's eyes narrowed as he took in their united front, the realization that his power was slipping away dawning upon him. "You'll regret this," he warned, but the tremor in his voice betrayed his fear.

Harry met his gaze with unwavering determination. "Not as much as you will, Lucius. You've underestimated us for the last time."

With that, Harry turned back to Narcissa, his heart racing. They were in this together now, bound by love, loyalty, and a shared purpose. The battle lines were drawn, and there was no turning back.

"And he never will," Harry agreed, feeling the adrenaline surge through him. He grabbed his wand, aiming it at Lucius, allowing the hatred to fill him, letting the dark memories of loss, murder, and anguish flow through his veins. He could almost feel Voldemort's essence wrapping around him, urging him to act.

"Crucio."

Lucius writhed in agony, a scream forming on his lips but soundless, the pain evident in his contorted features. Harry held the curse tight, relishing the moment, feeling a twisted sense of justice as Lucius flailed, color draining from his skin, the very essence of him fading under the weight of Harry's rage.

"You terrified the whole of Hogwarts and almost got my friends killed by giving Ginny that diary, Lucius," Harry said quietly, his voice steady despite the chaos within. "Then, the year after—all of that grief over a fucking Hippogriff? I could have had my godfather innocent and free. You had a choice, but instead, you chose to be Voldemort's cowardly minion, twice."

As Lucius writhed, the gag slipped loose, his pained murmur barely a whisper. "The Dark Lord will kill you just like he did your parents, Potter."

Harry's fury ignited further, the darkness surrounding him easier to conjure than ever. "How dare you speak of my parents?" he spat, the weight of his anger palpable. "Hom-dae-aamal, lahm-wa-damm." The incantation felt foreign on his tongue, an ancient Egyptian curse meant to boil the blood slowly. Lucius's veins bulged grotesquely, a sight that sent a thrill through Harry.

Lucius laughed madly, the sound grating against Harry's senses. "You won't kill me, Potter. Don't you want to know what I know? All the Dark Lord's secrets?"

Harry waved his wand, silencing Lucius once more, a smirk creeping onto his face. "I already have them."

"My money," Lucius blubbered, desperation creeping into his voice. "The— the house!"

"I already have them." Harry silenced the man again, stepping back to the chaise lounge, where Narcissa awaited him. Leaning over, he tangled his fingers in her soft hair, tugging her head back to claim her lips in a passionate kiss. The world around them faded, leaving only the two of them in that moment.

"Please, darling, don't remind me that I'm still married to him," Narcissa said, her voice sultry, tinged with playful defiance. She turned artfully on the lounge, sliding her hands up her thighs, a teasing smile gracing her lips. "All that I am is yours. Claim me."

"Mmm," Harry nodded, his pulse quickening as he pulled her up. She was putty in his hands, endlessly available to be posed and explored, yet it felt electric. Every brush of his fingers ignited something primal in her, her body responding eagerly, like a live wire.

He palmed her bottom, and she arched it instinctively, pushing it out, an unspoken request for a spanking. Harry traced his fingers along her lips, watching as she licked them, sucking them into her mouth with a slow, deliberate motion. Each glance downward revealed her deep cleavage, a tantalizing invitation that sent desire coursing through him.

"I've done that enough, Cissy. I thought you were going to ride me tonight?" he teased, his voice low and thick with lust.

"Oh, yes," she moaned, her eyes sparkling with excitement as he tugged her up. He laid back on the thick, white sheepskin rug, right next to Lucius, the contrast between his power and the man's helplessness intoxicating.

With a flick of his hand, Harry was naked, his cock hard and ready, the thrill of the moment intensifying. Narcissa's gaze roamed his body, awe evident in her expression. She adored everything about him: the strength of his muscles, the curve of his physique, the sheer power radiating from him.

Her breath hitched as she approached, her intentions clear. There was nothing she wouldn't do to show him how much he meant to her, and tonight, she intended to prove it.

"Let me worship you," she whispered, her voice a sultry promise that sent shivers down his spine. Harry's heart raced as he surrendered to the heat of the moment, knowing that together they would push boundaries and forge a new reality, one defined by their love, free from the shadows of the past.

As she moved closer, Harry felt an exhilarating mix of dominance and vulnerability. They were bound by more than desire; they were united against a common enemy, and together, they would carve their path forward, no matter the cost.

"Why don't you give your ex-husband a show, sweetheart?"

"I'd rather give you a show, my love." She didn't care about Lucius. He was dead already, alive solely for the purpose of giving their fuck a little extra thrill. Narcissa bit her lip, watching her lover's eyes as she danced slowly for him, standing above him, shifting her hips from side to side as she tousled her hair. Beside him, Lucius groaned silently, dribbling from his mouth as the curse's effects strengthened.

She turned for him and bent at the hip to display her full ass in all its glory. She knew her red thong was wet, knew there'd be a telling dark spot, and she peeled it away slowly, feeling his eyes devour her dewy pussy. All the way down her legs, over her heels. She tossed them onto Lucius - they landed on his chin.

"Fuck, Narcissa." Harry said with awe. "You are a work of art."

She flushed with his praise, and in the back of her mind, she couldn't help but giggle. Love was a strange thing. It made even the most of cliched compliments into something that made her heart pulse quicker, her smile widen. He was the sweetest, she decided.

Harry watched her squat down, slide herself unhurriedly up his thigh. Her eyes, made up to make her eyelashes especially long and seductive, stared up at him as she greeted his cock with a gentle kiss. A small suck to wetten it, some strokes to tease him, and higher she rose, pressing lover's kisses on his abdomen, her hair falling across his stomach, each strand a cool sensation. She climbed him with her whole body, her wet pussy trailing on his skin, her legs squeezing his as she grinded on him. And then her lips met his, and her smile became wider as she saw his arousal, his pleasure. It was everything she lived for.

"Hi," She whispered.

"Hey," He whispered back, the moment intimate despite the dying Death Eater beside them, who watched with wide, enraged eyes, his pale skin now a disturbing red, his veins black.

She reached down and suddenly he was within her, watching her closed eyes, her lip bite, as she took him deep within. His cock was immersed in her hot tight tunnel, the movement slow despite her wetness - she was almost too tight.

"Oh, fuck." She swore. "I'll never get used to that." She nestled back, sitting upright, his cock now fully ensconced - she'd bottomed out. Narcissa smiled at him, grabbing his balls playfully and kneading them, before she began bouncing on him.

"Do you like that, baby?" Narcissa moaned, picking up his hand and placing it on her tits as she rode him. Her pussy gripped him, her perfect thick ass smacking against his crotch, and he could only lie back and watch - this was the life. Her tits jiggled for his pleasure, and when she wasn't looking to heavens in sheer pleasure, she was meeting his gaze, and they couldn't help but smile and laugh.

"I love it." He told her honestly.

"I love you." She responded, and she couldn't help but bend down to kiss him, swept up with giddiness and love. She squealed as his hand came up around her back, locking her in. She undulated her hips, grinding and rotating her pussy on him, desperate to maximize his pleasure.

Harry trailed his finger down her cheek and wiped away one of her happy tears, and she kissed his thumb in thanks.

Now she was closer to him, he could get at those magnificent tits of hers, and as she bounced on him, he captured her nipples, messily sucking and coating them with his saliva. Her hands on his shoulders, Narcissa kept riding him, squeezing his cock with her pussy, almost delirious with pleasure. How could she pleasure him most when she could barely stay coherent? His cock felt like it was deeper than ever before, and every time she bounced on him, it felt like it might be the end of her, the sensations too much - she was so sensitive she felt like she could feel every ridge of his cock, and the slap of her pussy against his crotch as she bottomed out was enough to make her cream.

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