CHAPTER 37: DEALS IN THE DARK
As Harry hurried through the corridors, the weight of the interaction with Colin Creevey still gnawing at his mind, his thoughts drifted to Daphne. His conversations with her were rarely straightforward, always tinged with a layer of unspoken tension. But he needed to talk to her. The whole situation with Umbridge, Fudge, and the political landscape at Hogwarts had gotten messier than he had anticipated, and Daphne's perspective—especially with her connections and sharp mind—could be invaluable.
He reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room, hesitating for a moment as the icy air of the dungeon swept over him. The soft whisper of students passing by didn't ease the growing sense of urgency in his chest. There was something that had shifted between him and Daphne recently, something deeper, that made his pulse quicken every time he thought about her. But that was a problem for later. Right now, he needed her advice, and maybe, just maybe, it would give him the clarity to deal with everything else.
He knocked, just loud enough for her to hear, and moments later, the door creaked open. Daphne stood in the doorway, her eyes narrowing as she took in his presence.
"Harry," she greeted, her voice cool but not unkind. "What do you want?"
"Can we talk?" Harry asked, his tone more serious than he intended. She nodded and stepped aside, allowing him entry. The common room was empty, save for a few lingering students who quickly scampered off when they saw Harry. Daphne closed the door behind him and leaned against it, crossing her arms.
"What's going on?" she asked, her posture casual but her eyes sharp.
"Fudge is going down," Harry began, his voice low, though there was a certain edge to it. "And Umbridge? She's going with him. I've got the plan in motion, but I need to get some details straight with you first."
Daphne raised an eyebrow but remained silent, waiting for him to continue.
"The Greengrass attack," he said, his eyes fixed on hers. "It's more than just a distraction, isn't it? I've been thinking about it, and I don't think that's just about power plays. You're involved more deeply than you're letting on."
For a moment, Daphne didn't react. She just studied him, her expression unreadable. Then, with a sigh, she pushed herself off the door and walked over to a chair by the fire.
"You're right," she said, her voice soft but firm. "There's more to it. But what you don't understand is that Fudge isn't the only one making moves. Umbridge... she's playing a long game. The Greengrass attack was part of a bigger plan, one that was meant to ensure the survival of a certain faction. And that faction doesn't just want to stay in power—they want to control it all."
Harry frowned. "Control it all?"
Daphne nodded. "They've been waiting for a moment like this. A moment when there's chaos, when everyone's too distracted by the war to notice the political shifts happening under their noses. The Greengrass family isn't as innocent as they appear."
"Are you saying your family—"
"No," she interjected sharply, her voice harder than before. "My family didn't want this. But some people within our circle have their own ambitions, and they'll stop at nothing to achieve them."
Harry's mind raced, trying to connect the dots. "So Fudge and Umbridge are part of this... faction?"
"Not just them," Daphne replied, her eyes narrowing slightly. "There's more at play than just them. And now, with you making waves, people are starting to take notice. You've got some serious support, Harry. But you also have enemies in high places."
"I'm used to enemies," Harry muttered, but he couldn't help the knot of tension forming in his stomach.
"You shouldn't be so cavalier about it," Daphne said quietly. "The game you're playing... it's not just about fighting Voldemort anymore. It's about survival, power, and control. And right now, you're a player in a game that's much bigger than you think."
Harry looked at her for a long moment, her words sinking in. He had always known there were bigger stakes than just defeating the Dark Lord, but hearing it from her—someone who had always been in the middle of the web of power—made it feel more real.
"I don't want power, Daphne," he said softly. "I just want to end this war."
She met his gaze steadily. "The two aren't so easily separated, Harry. Power is the key to ending this war. And sometimes... sometimes you have to get your hands dirty to wield it."
Harry swallowed, the weight of her words pressing down on him. "I know," he muttered. "But I don't want to lose myself in the process."
Daphne gave him a small, almost imperceptible smile. "You won't. Not if you're careful."
There was something in her gaze that made Harry's heart beat a little faster, but he pushed the thought away. This was no time for distractions.
"What do you suggest?" he asked, his voice steady, despite the turmoil inside.
Daphne stood up and moved closer, lowering her voice to a whisper. "Keep your friends close, Harry. But watch your back. There's more to the story, and you're not the only one with a plan."
She paused for a moment, then added, "And as for us... don't make any promises you can't keep."
Harry nodded, the weight of her warning lingering in his mind as he turned to leave. He didn't know exactly what the future held, but one thing was certain—he couldn't trust anyone completely. Not even Daphne, not if he wanted to survive this game.
The door closed behind him, and Harry stepped back into the shadows of the hallway, his mind racing with the implications of their conversation.
The Marauders' Map showed her coming out of a third-floor bathroom. And, with the map showing the secret passageways, he was there within seconds. "Daphne, wait up!" He called out.
Daphne whipped her head around, furious, ensuring nobody saw them. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into a broom cupboard.
"What the fuck are you doing, Potter?"
"Heh, remember the last time we were in a cupboard together. Fuck, that was good."
Daphne flushed with rage. "Fuck you, Potter. I'm protecting my family. We have a deal."
"And I'm upholding it. This morning, I bought Gringotts wards for your family manor." He pushed her back against the wall, slipping his hand up her legs, feeling her nylons and then higher, under her skirt, to find her panties.
"You...you did?"
"Of course. See what happened to the Macmillans? That's what happens when you aren't extremely wealthy in today's Britain. It's so sad. Luckily, you have me. The goblins are turning up this weekend."
He pushed her skirt up so it was around her waist, pawing at her ass. It felt so good in his hands, a perfect peach, so bubby and round. It was a work of art, he thought, squeezing it. The best ass in Hogwarts - it was absurd to have it on such a slim girl.
"Thank - thank you, Harry. Thank you. Really." Her eyes were wet, her whole body shaking with relief.
He was touched. "That's alright, sweetheart. You earned it. Boy, you earned it. That throat-fucking was serious, right? I can't believe you let me do that. I really drilled your throat and came like a firehose down your throat and then all over your face, you looked like a Knockturn Alley-"
"Alright, Potter, I get it! Merlin!"
He turned her unresisting body around, giving her ass a spank, watching it jiggle. "Bounce it for me."
"What?"
"Bounce it for me. Come on."
Daphne rolled her eyes but decided to count her blessings that she wasn't getting throat-fucked. She held her skirt up around her waist and bent over for him, shaking her ass. She squealed as he spanked her, hard, and then again.
"Fuck, it's beautiful. I love your little pink thong, too, it barely hides your pussy."
"Potter, are we done? We really need to get to class."
He sighed. "You're right. Have you thought any more about my proposal? I could keep you safe, keep you happy. Your whole family, Tori, they'd never have to worry about a thing."
"Potter...Harry, listen,"
"No, I get it." Harry smiled. "Don't bother. Nobody ever knows what's good for them. Here's what's next then, if you want to keep me happy, want to keep those wards arriving on the weekend. I want Tracey."
Harry watched the color drain from her face. "Tracey? What?"
"Yeah, if you won't let me fuck you, I need some pussy. You haven't been able to give me satisfactory handjobs or blowjobs, and I need to get off. I can't just throat-fuck you everytime. I want to fuck Tracey."
"I can't do that!"
"Why not? She's a Muggleborn, so her maidenhood isn't important. You've barely done anything to deserve my protection, and I want more."
"No, I mean, Potter, she won't agree. She'll hate me forever if I even suggested it-"
"That's not my problem. Figure it out. Either she lets me fuck her or I'm done. You saw what happened to Ernie's dad? That could be your family, next. Get it done."
And with that, he left her, still holding her skirt up. When she recovered enough to collect herself, she realized to her shame, she was wet. Soaking wet.
That weekend, the Greengrass wards were the furthest thing from Harry's mind, as Narcissa straightened his collar for the fifth time.
"Are you sure I don't need a tie?"
"Trust me, my love. Formal robes in Britain, but formal tuxedos in Europe."
"Then why am I wearing a three-piece?" He said, fingering his waistcoat.
"Because you're a Brit, in France. You don't want to fit in, you're never going to do that. Instead, you stand out by being so bloody handsome I want to drag you back to bed and have you fuck my poor little pussy, all night long." Narcissa quipped, one hand on his cheek, the other on her curved stomach, as she stood there in just her red panties. She'd insisted he fuck her before he got dressed for the big French soiree that the Delacour's were hosting. It would help his nerves, she said, though he hadn't needed much convincing.
"You're sure I can't bring you with me?"
"It's too early, love. The world doesn't even know Lucius is dead. I'm busy taking over as much of his business deals as I can before we release the news, but I need more time. He hid a lot from me, I'm still going through his documents."
"I want to announce you as my Mistress." Harry pouted.
She pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I love being your sexy, live-in, sextoy Mistress. I want to announce to the world that we're in love and you love me day and night. But even after we announce him dead, I'll need to have my 'mourning' time."
"Can't we just tell the world he's a Death Eater?"
"And then it would become, is Narcissa a Death Eater too, and if so, why has Potter made her his Mistress? Better to have you taking care of the grieving widow, I think."
"Fine." Harry said moodily, but he couldn't help but smile as she peppered him with kisses.
"Now come on, my handsome Lord, my heart. If you don't go now, you'll be too late even for the French."
"I'll be back tonight." Harry told her.
"No, you won't. There'll be enough French tarts there that you'll definitely get lucky. Make sure you pay attention to the right one, I hear they get catty. Now go!"
Harry left the room with a mix of anticipation and unease. The evening ahead would be a delicate balancing act, and he couldn't afford to let any distractions get in the way. Narcissa's presence, though, lingered in his mind, and he couldn't help but feel grateful for her understanding, even if it was tinged with the weight of the secrecy surrounding their situation.
As he walked down the grand hallway of the manor, he could hear the sounds of the event already starting to build from below—a symphony of laughter, clinking glasses, and the soft hum of French accents. The Delacour estate was opulent, as expected, a stark contrast to the shadows of his past life. For a moment, Harry considered the difference between the world he'd been thrust into and the one he'd come from. It felt like a lifetime ago that he had been just another orphan living under the Dursleys' roof. Now, he was part of a world that was both intoxicating and dangerous.
Arriving at the Delacours' estate, Harry was greeted with warm smiles from Fleur and her family, but his mind was already elsewhere. The night was supposed to be a chance for him to network, to strengthen his position with those who could help him in the coming battles. He wasn't just there for the luxurious surroundings or the wealth; he was there because power was shifting in ways most of the wizarding world couldn't see yet.
Narcissa had been right. He had to be careful. The politics of the wizarding world were like a web, and one misstep could lead to ruin. Yet Harry was used to playing a game of survival. This was just another test.
Fleur, radiant as always, approached him with a glass of champagne in hand. Her smile was warm, but there was something unreadable in her eyes. "Harry," she greeted, her voice low and almost conspiratorial. "I trust you're enjoying the evening so far?"
He nodded, trying to shake off the sense that there was more at play here than the event itself. "Absolutely, it's impressive."
"Good," Fleur said, leaning in slightly as if sharing a secret. "But remember, Harry, in these circles, appearances can be more important than reality. Who you align yourself with tonight could decide much more than who you dance with." She paused, giving him a knowing look before straightening up again. "Enjoy the party, but be mindful."
Harry's gaze flickered around the room, catching glimpses of well-known figures mingling, none of them seemingly aware of the tension just beneath the surface. He didn't trust any of them completely, but he had learned long ago that trust was a luxury he couldn't always afford.
As the night wore on, Harry moved from conversation to conversation, carefully calculating his next moves. He could feel the weight of his responsibilities—protecting his loved ones, maintaining his position, and preparing for the war that was sure to come. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep this up, pretending to play the part of the charming young lord while holding a dagger in his other hand.
But as the evening drew to a close, and Harry finally allowed himself a moment to step away from the crowd, he couldn't shake the feeling that tonight wasn't just about the alliances he'd made or the deals he'd struck. There was something bigger at play—something he still couldn't quite see. The pieces were shifting, but the full picture was still out of reach.
With a sigh, Harry decided it was time to leave. Narcissa would be waiting for him, and he needed to prepare for what was coming next. The night had been a test, but the real challenges were only just beginning.
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