Harry and Hermione lemons i found

by ttyyt

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30. 30

Hermione Granger was an intelligent, hard-working student, perhaps one of the most intelligent and hard-working students that Hogwarts had ever seen, since the likes of Lily Potter nee Evans. Those that had taught both young women found the similarities nearly uncanny, what with how much Hermione loved to apply herself when it came to her studies. The two young women could have been twins with their work ethic, as well their kindness, stubbornness and driven personality. Hermione never backed down from a challenge, no matter how insurmountable, always pushing herself to be the best at every subject she studied.

To make her academic reputation even better, she had never cheated or flunked any of her tests, not even one, during her entire tenure at Hogwarts. Sure, she might've... bent the rules slightly in her Third Year when she used a time-turner but she considered that more along the lines of 'outside-the-box' thinking. Besides, it technically wasn't cheating, as she had permission to use it from her teachers. If both her Head of House and the Headmaster of Hogwarts knew and approved then it couldn't possibly be cheating, so there.

And now, with the threat of Voldemort gone and the school rebuilt – albeit, a few areas still needing some work – she could now enjoy her Seventh and final year at Hogwarts. Harry would also be there, thankfully, after she convinced him to return – although, he was rather reluctant about it. Ron on the other hand, outright refused to come back to Hogwarts to complete his final year, as in his words, 'Why do I need to go back? We beat Voldemort! We're heroes, Hermione! People will be tripping over themselves to give us a job!'

Such a thought made Hermione scoff. What an idiot. Didn't he realise how important it was to complete his schooling career? Not just for his job prospects but for his own benefit? She had tried to convince over and over again but Ron had refused to budge. Oh well, she wasn't in charge of his life. If he wanted to waste his chance at a proper education, who was she to stop him? Besides, at least Harry was returning with her this year. She wouldn't be completely alone.

Just a few weeks before school came back, she and Harry received their new badges promoting them to Head Girl and Head Boy of Hogwarts, the highest honour they could receive. Hermione was ecstatic, seeing it as a chance for them both to prove themselves as outstanding students, to cement themselves outside of their accomplishments during the war. Harry was less enthusiastic. He reasoned that it was less about having earned it and more a gesture for the new and returning students, and for their parents. Having two thirds of the Golden Trio in charge would certainly add a sense of security for those still spooked by the war.

He felt he was once again being used for his reputation, to which Hermione argued that this time it was a reputation that he had well and truly earned, not only by stopping Voldemort and his army once and for all but through his natural leadership skills and pragmatic attitude. The blush that appeared on Harry's face after hearing that made her day.

After much coaxing and several more compliments, Harry eventually said yes, to which he received a very enthusiastic Hermione hug for his troubles. Hermione quickly wrote back saying that they had both accepted the role with great pride. She promised that they would both do the best they could to uphold the rules and to act as worthy role models for the younger students to confide in and look up to.

Which was why she was so torn about what she was about to do. If anyone ever found out about this new scheme she had come up with, her perfect reputation, her accomplishments, her triumphs, they were all going down the toilet.

Ever since Professor McGonagall's lessons in Animagus magic at the beginning of the year, the ability to change between her human self and her inner animal was something that fascinated Hermione. It had always been a dream of hers to transform into a cat, ever since she was a little girl, and finally getting the chance to learn how made her inner child beam with happiness. She was nearly heartbroken when she learnt that the craft of becoming a true Animagus would take years to master and even then most would simply never achieve it. It nearly made her want to cry in the middle of class as one of her longest-held dreams shattered before her very eyes.

So, after the lesson ended, Hermione went straight up to the library, to the section that held any and all information regarding Animagus magic, and poured through every book she could find. There had to be a way to make certain that she became an Animagus. After centuries of study and practise, there had to have been someone who made a sure-fire method that anyone could use.

That was when she had found a rather old, and somewhat decrepit potion book in the Forbidden section that held a 'shortcut' to becoming an Animagus. Or at least, that was what a rough translation told her, assuming that 'magical man-animal' was simply a primitive phrase for Animagus.

Against her better judgement, ignoring the many warnings plastered along the sides of the page as well as her own common sense, Hermione took it anyway. Perhaps due to being friends with Ron and Harry for so long, their habit of breaking the rules had rubbed off on her.

As soon as she got back to the Heads' dorm room – one that she shared with Harry – she had begun reading the potion book thoroughly, listing any and all ingredients and memorising the recipe. It took her weeks of study, preparation and thievery but eventually she managed to find the time to brew the potion in secret. The mysterious concoction sat in her room bubbling away for several days, until eventually Hermione spotted the light twinkling on the surface that told her it was ready.

She couldn't help but feel a slight disappointment as she held up a small beaker filled with the misty liquid. The sunlight from the window shone through it and in doing so Hermione could see little clouds swirling within, making shapeless forms that occasionally twisted into almost animalistic silhouette.

'Is this really it?' Hermione thought to herself, gazing upon the potion that would apparently help her achieve her Animagus form. She imagined that it would've been a little more... glamorous. After all, it did take her an entire week to brew! A week that was filled with toil, trepidation and anticipation.

Despite knowing that she followed the recipe to absolutely perfection, she still harboured some apprehension as to what she was about to do. The book described that the transformation would be relatively quick and painless and that there were no guarantees as to which animal form she would inhabit. Hermione hoped that it would be a cat, but any four-legged animal would suffice - unless it were a toad, of course.

Should she even be doing this? Ingesting a potion brewed from a recipe in an old, decrepit book wasn't exactly the smartest thing she'd ever done. In fact, it was rather the opposite, it was downright foolish. However, the thought of her being able to become an Animagus was just too exciting to pass up.

Shrugging her shoulders, Hermione uncorked the potion.

"Here we go," she muttered, before placing the opening to her lips, and gently tilting the concoction up, allowing the viscous liquid to flow into her mouth.

Hermione cringed as she fought the urge to gag, her eyes trickled with tears as she forced herself to swallow the thick liquid. It took her many brave gulps - and many, many thoughts about becoming a little brown tabby cat - to finish drinking the potion.

Shuddering as she felt the liquid travel down her throat and come resting in her stomach, Hermione stood in front of the mirror, looking over herself carefully for any changes. However, when nothing happened within the first ten seconds – unlike the near instantaneous transformation from the Polyjuice potion – a small frown marred her face. She didn't even feel anything change within her body, apart from a mild discomfort in her stomach from the foul liquid she just drank.

"Great..." Hermione grumbled to herself, a tinge of anger in her voice, "I knew it was too good to be true." An annoyed sigh escaped her lips. "I wasted so much time with that bloody potion."

With that, Hermione turned away from the mirror, making sure that everything was in pristine condition, before she made her way over towards her little sling-bag and hoisted it over her shoulder. She left her dorm, trying her best to get this misadventure out of mind as quickly as she could. Which would be easy, because it was nearly time for her next class. More schoolwork was perfect to take her mind off of the disappointment that was the supposed miracle Animagus potion. It was clearly just another failed experiment and, like always, she would have to do it the hard way. At least the potion hadn't turned her into a toad.

However, what Hermione didn't know was that the potion did indeed work, it just needed time to properly set in. As she walked to her next class, the potion's magic was absorbed into her body, infiltrating her magical core and quickly deciding the animal form that best fit. The changes that it would bring were definitely going to garner some attention and they would change Hermione's life forever, for better or for worse.

Hermione

Missing you. Can't wait to see you again. Hope you're not too bored at Hogwarts. Heard from Harry that it was your birthday today so I got you something. You can thank me next time you see me at the Burrow.

See you soon,

Ron

Hermione rolled her eyes and promptly closed the shoddily-scrawled birthday card. She tossed it aimlessly through the air where it landed on the accompanying birthday present: yet another bottle of that awful perfume that Ron insisted on buying for her every year. Honestly, she'd told Ron countless times, in a not-so-subtle fashion, that she'd rather anything else for her birthday but did he ever actually listen? No. In his mind she was a girl and girls obviously loved perfume so that was what she got. Never mind that she wanted something that would actually help her with her studies, maybe a binder or a new timetable, things that she had to leave behind whilst on the run. Nope, perfume every year without fail.

The young woman sighed irritably. What was worse, Ron had got it into his head that they were now dating, even though Hermione herself had agreed to nothing of the sort. True, she did kiss him in the final battle, but in fairness she thought they were going to die! She was trying to be spontaneous, to live in the moment! Besides, she knew about Ron's crush on her and thought she might as well try it out, better that than die a virgin.

It took her approximately three microseconds after the kiss ended for her to realise it was a mistake and ever since she'd been trying to let Ron down slowly. Unfortunately, the stupid prat had refused to catch. Honestly, Hermione was this close to marching down to the Burrow herself and shouting in his face that she simply was not interested in -

Ouch! A sharp stinging in her boobs kicked her out of her thoughts.

Hermione winced lightly, rubbing her breast to try and sooth the pain. They had been feeling rather tender all day for some odd reason. It wasn't particularly agonising, nor constant, it just flared up every now and again for a few moments before disappearing.

She assumed that it was the fabric of her bra rubbing the wrong way or even just spasms from stress. There was really no cause to go to Madame Pomfrey, in her mind. She just needed some rest. Just like that, mere moments after she started to rub her breast, the tenderness faded away. Hermione sighed in relief as she brought her hand out from underneath her slightly-too-tight pyjama top.

That was another strange thing that she had noticed recently, her top and her bottoms didn't feel quite as baggy as they used to, but they'd obviously just shrunk in the wash. It was nothing to worry about, she was certain of it. Just like how the fact that she had been hungry all day was nothing to worry about either. That was probably due to her studying for too long, as usual.

Hermione glanced over the desk by her bedside where she had just been working before she had been distracted by Ron's card. Her brand new academic calendar stood proudly, already covered with notes and circled dates. The young woman smiled, that was Harry's gift for her, or rather one of them. The other was the thick tome that was currently lying on her pillow. Hogwarts: a History – Definitive Edition. A brand new, expanded, annotated version of her favourite book, one that was lost with the rest of her belongings during the war.

The moment she unwrapped it was a fairly embarrassing one, considering that Harry was sitting right next to her when it happened and she was barely able to hold in her tears. But still, Harry didn't judge, he knew what that book meant to her, how it helped her to adjust back to this new normal they were living in.

Without warning, a yawn escaped her mouth and her eyelids drooped. It was already past midnight. Honestly, she needed to get her sleep schedule back on track. The precious tome was placed to the side so she wasn't tempted to read it all night long and her light was extinguished with a tap of her wand.

All of these things she was worried about could be dealt with another day. As for the pains she was having, Hermione decided the best thing to do was to ignore them for now, as she heard Harry's snoring from the other room. She needn't wake him and worry him about something that was easily explained. Harry had worried enough in his life about Voldemort and dark wizards; he deserved a peaceful time as Head-Boy with a Head-Girl who was bright and dependable. Just like he always was with her.

Harry had done so well to step up to the plate of Head Boy, always cheerful and helpful with the little ones, always ready to lend a hand to anyone in need, never losing patience with those who asked him endless questions about the war and Voldemort. Hermione could see how much it took out of him each day just by how soundly he slept every night. If only she could tell him how unimaginably proud she was of him as well as how much she truly cared about him. All those hidden feelings that she had kept bottled up since she had first met him all those years ago...

Shaking her head away from those thoughts, specifically of Harry, Hermione laid down on the bed and got comfortable underneath the covers as she prepared to fall asleep, trying to ignore how her panties had dampened and clung to her hips for some reason. God, she wanted to masturbate. It had been on her mind ever since she'd changed into her pyjamas. If only Ron hadn't so rudely interrupted her studying, she might have found a few minutes to help scratch that itch. Alas, there was no time for that now, even though she really wanted to.

It would be a busy day tomorrow, and Harry would need her at her best. She needed as much sleep as she could get. She fell asleep quickly, her troubles forgotten but at the same time only just begun.

Hermione tip-toed into her shared dorm as quietly as she could, taking care not to make a sound as her bare toes padded against the stone tiles. She bit her tongue to stop herself from squeaking at the aching pain in her tits, as if to make absolutely sure that nobody heard her, even thought at moment, she really didn't need to.

It was a Tuesday evening, after all, and Harry should be elsewhere. If her memory served her well, he would be down on the Quidditch pitch training the newcomers, far away from their dormitory. He wouldn't be back for more than an hour. That left plenty of time to sneak into the bathroom and fix herself up, a good thing too, considering what she was trying to hide. She couldn't afford for Harry to see her like this, scantily clad in a towel and a sodden bra, trying to stop her tits from audibly sloshing as she walked. It would raise too many questions that she couldn't answer.

Hermione smiled in relief as her toes touched the first step on the staircase up to the bathroom. The victory was short-lived.

"Hermione?" Harry's voice spoke suddenly, causing Hermione to yelp and turn around so quickly that she was surprised that she didn't fall over.

As it turned out, Harry was not on the Quidditch pitch, as she presumed. Instead, he was standing in his dirty quidditch gear, a wet towel wrapped around his shoulders, staring at her in concern.

Hermione was about to ask why he wasn't at practice, when she suddenly remembered. Harry had changed his timetable so they could spend more time together in the evenings. How could she forget? She was usually so on top of things like this.

"What's going on?" He asked, his eyes trailing up and down her body with a concerned expression upon his face. "Is the shower not working again?"

Feeling Harry's eyes roam across her near naked body, Hermione shifted awkwardly on the spot.

The instinct to cover herself as best she could was raging within her, however, something else was stopping her... something that was urging her to continue showing off her body to him, to proudly display herself to this man, the one she trusted the most.

"I, umm... I might've made a mistake, Harry," she whispered, rubbing her arms and looking away from him.

Harry continued to stare at her, more specifically at her chest that she was nervously clutching a towel to. Even with most of it covered, it was clearly that something was off.

"Your body... it's changed."

It was true, her body had changed massively within the past week, much to Hermione's dismay. First of all, her breasts had nearly doubled in size, clearly seen now that she was out of her uniform and dressed only in her underwear. Her meagre bra that used to happily encompass her perky tits was now struggling under their growing weight.

However, it wasn't just her breasts that were growing heavier. Harry could see that her stomach was bunching over the top of her waistband in a soft roll. Her arse too had flared out, gaining considerable heft and stretching her slim panties to the point where any sudden movement threatened to tear the garments at the seams. Her once lithe build had become curvier, rounding out her body in a way that, whilst not obscene, was evidently more that what it once was.

However, the one thing that commanded Harry's attention the most were a couple of large, damp spots forming in the fabric of her white bra. He could even see small dribbles of white seeping through on occasion, dripping from the fabric. It wasn't water, it was too opaque, and besides the rest of her body was bone-dry. It almost looked like milk...

'Is she... lactating?' he thought to himself, perplexed with what he was seeing.

Had she fallen pregnant and didn't tell him? Why would she keep it a secret from him? Unless...

Harry felt a sudden urge to fling a few nasty spells at someone, whoever had dared to manipulate his Hermione. By instinct, his wand appeared in his hand and crackled with magic. Then Harry actually took a moment to consider the time-frame and realising this theory was simply not possible. Even if she were pregnant, Hermione shouldn't be producing milk for months, not before any of the numerous other signs, anyway. She certainly didn't look pregnant, although, he thought as his mind wandered, what with her new curves, a part of Harry realised he wouldn't mind seeing what that would look like...

"What's going on?" Harry asked in a firm voice that compelled Hermione to answer.

"I... I wanted to become an Animagus," she replied, glancing at him guiltily like a small child. "But I didn't want to spend years working for it like McGonagal said I would have to. So, I went to the library and I found this book and in the book there was a recipe for a potion I could take that would supposedly help me. I brewed it... and I drank it... and nothing happened at first. I thought that it was a dud... but now I know it wasn't... it's changing me, Harry, and I don't know what to do!"

Seeing tears starting to form in the edges of her eyes, Harry quickly placed his wand back in his pocket, before he made his way over to Hermione, gently hugging her to give her some comfort.

"It's alright, Hermione," he soothed, gently swaying his body left and right, causing Hermione's body to follow his lead, "I've got you."

He heard Hermione sniffle into his robes.

"Thank you..." she nodded after a few moments of silence. Now that she was in Harry's arms, her nostrils flared out and she inhaled deeply. Shivers ran up and down her spine as she smelt Harry's musk and sweat from his Quidditch training session that finished earlier.

It was curious... at any other time, she usually hated this smell, especially when she found his dirty laundry lying in the bathroom that he'd forgotten to clean up. Now however, it made her feel... good, relaxed even. It was familiar, safe, it made her feel like everything was going to be alright for the first time in a while. It reminded her of all the things she liked about Harry, how it felt to be around him, how he made her feel.

Below those feelings, however, there was a twinge of something else. Had she been paying attention, Hermione would have noticed the moistening of her pussy lips, the tingle in her loins, the renewed flow of milk dripping from her sensitive nipples that spoke of some primal instinct building in her body. But for now, it was all smothered by an overwhelming sense of relief.

Hermione knew above all else that Harry would make sure she was alright. He would help her through this, no matter what it took, no matter how embarrassing or arduous the process may be. That was who Harry was... why she liked him so very much... why she needed him more than anyone, even Ron.

"I promise you," he whispered, "I will help you. I will find a way to get you back to normal, or at least help you cope with what's happening to you. You won't have to do this all by yourself."

Hermione was silent for a moment, breathing in the strong smell of dirt and grass and sweat from a long day of exercise, before a thought popped into her head.

"There might be one thing you could do for now..." she murmured. Harry looked at her and she blushed. "No, no, sorry. It's too much-"

"Hermione." His low, calming voice once again compelled her to look up at him. "Whatever you need, consider it done."

"Can you... I mean... pleasecanyouhelpmemilkmyself?"

It all came out as one jumbled mess of sounds and Harry couldn't help but blink with amusement.

"One more time in English, please?"

Hermione drummed up her courage and tried again, her face red and her body trembling.

"I need you to help me... milk my boobs..."

Harry's smirk vanished and his face turned very, very red. Safe to say this was not a normal request one would make between friends, then again when were their lives ever normal? Nevertheless, Hermione needed his help, he promised to give it. It wouldn't be very good of him to back out now.

"Well, if that's what... needs to be done, then yes. Absolutely." Harry nervously scratched his head. "So how do we...?"

She looked up at him like a lost puppy and shrugged. Clearly she didn't know where to start either.

In the end, they found an empty milk bottle in their shared kitchen area, used up from this morning. It wasn't exactly dignified but it was better than nothing. In Hermione's opinion, it was certainly better than just hooking her up to a milking machine like any old cow – for some reason the thought alone made a tingle run down her spine.

Reminding herself that she was the same woman who fought Voldemort's army – honestly, what was a little nudity compared to that? - Hermione unclipped her bra and revealed her engorged tits to Harry's widening eyes. It took a moment for Harry to compose himself in the face of what his teenage brain considered perfection - they were at least a good handful! - but eventually he regained his senses.

Putting aside his hormones, Harry held the bottle up to Hermione's boob. He looked up at her face and she nodded in affirmation. No turning back now. Harry cautiously placed the rim around her stiff nipple. The nub enlarged inside the confines of the glass.

Slowly, Hermione began to squeeze the supple flesh of her breast. Harry heard tiny whimpers from his female friend until a few seconds later dribbles of milk slid out of her nipple and down into the bottle. Before long the dribbles became a small steady stream of creamy white. Harry stared at the liquid with an utmost fascination. Hermione, her face a picture of embarrassment, could barely stand to face her best friend. Her heart hammered in her chest as she bore all to the man she had secretly loved for seven years.

By now her hands were shaking so much that she was struggling to continue her ministrations and the stream faltered. Hermione was ready to turn tail and run when she felt a warm arm wrap around her shoulders and the bottle was pressed into her breast once more. She looked up and found Harry's face, crimson and determined, staring resolutely back at her. The rough digits of his fingers began softly caressing her bare skin in bold, comforting, almost possessive strokes.

The purity of the gesture, her best friend using his trembling fingers to milk her heavy breasts, soothed Hermione to her core. For the first time since this fiasco had started, she felt safe and warm. Despite the situation, she couldn't help but smile. This was her best friend, she reminded herself. There was nothing to worry whilst he was around to help her.

She took in a deep breath and the scent of him engulfed her mind. The masculine odour, a tinge of sweat and dirt. It grounded her, made it all feel so real. Hermione felt herself relaxing into him, and the milk came forth in greater quantities.

By the time the stream began to abate, the bottle was about half-full, with easily enough milk for a full glass.

"B-Better?" Harry asked, only able to manage one word at a time.

"Yes," Hermione nodded and Harry was relieved, only for Hermione to jostle her tit and add, "for this one."

Harry stared at her in alarm.

"'For this one'?" he gulped.

"I do have two, you know," Hermione smirked despite blushing a bright maroon.

It was clear he wanted to smack her for that, but then he barely had the presence of mind to use his hands at the moment. Instead he focused his efforts on lifting the half-full bottle to the other nipple and Hermione repeated the process. This time it all came much easier, flowing out of her like she had turned on a tap. Hermione bit down a moan as a pain she didn't even realise she had been suffering from was finally relieved.

As they finished draining her other breast, the bottle now full of milk, Hermione gave her tits and experimental jiggle (to which Harry quickly looked away). They no longer sloshed and they didn't ache in the slightest. She was cured, for now at least. Hermione stared at the milk held in the bottle with an innocent curiosity. It looked like normal milk, she remarked to herself. She didn't know what she thought it might look like, maybe glowing or sparkling? This was clearly done to her by magic, after all, so this would be magical milk.

As she continued to study the bottle, Harry cleared his throat.

"Right, I'll just go and get rid of it."

He rose to go to the bathroom to pour it all down the sink when Hermione's heart jumped and a part of her cried out to stop him.

"No!" Hermione exclaimed to Harry's immense surprise.

"Why not?" he asked, glancing at the bottle in his hand. "I thought you didn't..."

Hermione tried desperately to find an explanation. She didn't know why, she only knew that letting him throw it away would be bad, more than bad, the worst thing ever.

"We, uh... we might need to get it tested!" she lied. "It could help us figure out what's happening to me."

"You think so?"

"Yes! So don't throw it out, whatever you do."

Harry looked at her, scepticism written clearly across his face, but in the end he obliged. They decided to keep the bottle of her milk in the fridge, marked with a pink label away from the rest of the groceries.

Much to her relief, Harry promised her that he would continue to help her as best he could, no matter what. This most likely wouldn't be a one time thing, after all, not until they could find a way to cure her.

Hermione glanced at the fridge, her brow furrowed. They were going to need more bottles.

Hermione had not been having a good week. Ever since Harry started to help her after her confession, the two had worked tireless to find a cure but nothing was coming up. They'd tried consulting the book once again but there was no recipe for an antidote anywhere in its pages, nor was there anything about her condition anywhere else, not in the forbidden section. Meanwhile, her body had refused to go back to normal, instead her changes were becoming all the more extreme with no end in sight.

For one, her tits hadn't stopped growing, much to her dismay. If she thought that they were large last week, then they were absolutely enormous now. Somehow, over the course of a few days, her breasts had gone from a rather moderate and healthy-sized handful to bra-busting, eye-boggling H-cups! They were bigger than her head already and there was no sign of them stopping any time soon! Hermione could only imagine what kind of back problems she would have in the near future if this kept up, let alone how big her bras would have to be to contain them!

What was worse, they were leaking milk far more regularly, so often that she was lucky to get through a single class without having to apply a drying spell to her bra. Hermione often thought that her tits belonged more to a pregnant woman in her third trimester than a 18 year old witch. With how often she was lactating, she reckoned that she could probably put some cows out of a job.

And every time the thought crossed her mind, she felt a delightful shiver run up her spine and her mind cloud over. Imagine that, the brightest witch of her age being nothing more than a cow, whose whole job was to be milked all day long-

As quickly as the image appeared in her mind, it would be quickly shunned with no small amount of frustration.

Along with that, she was gaining a lot of weight. Her slim figure was basically gone, replaced with a much chubbier frame. Where there once was a flat stomach, a round belly protruded out from her clothing even in her largest sweaters.

Even more embarrassingly, her bottom had positively inflated as well, ballooning into a wide mass of round, plush fat. Hermione had always secretly wished that her bottom was more shapely, but this was simply ridiculous! It felt like she had two Quaffles strapped to her arse at all times, except these Quaffles also bounced every time she took a step and acted like fleshy pillows every time she sat down.

Having been a lithe, wiry girl all her life, Hermione was completely unused to moving with her new body and as such she was in the middle of an ongoing adjustment period.

She constantly had to watch out for the way she walked so as to stop her arse and tits from jiggling out of her underwear. It was a trial to wear her old panties for they were much too small, barely covering anything, and it was even harder to wear skirts, of any kind, as often the fabric would hitch dangerously high up her thighs. Her jumpers as well were starting to fit more and more snug, so much so that they were becoming more like crop-tops than sweaters, exposing her bunched-up belly and what felt like acres of cleavage.

Too many times had Hermione risked almost flashing her bra and panties to the many prying eyes around her as she walked to and from classes. Not only that but the space she needed to get around was more than she was used to. Hermione had never been a big girl before and as such she wasn't used to how much space she now took up, what with her wide hips and bountiful bosom.

There had been numerous instances where she accidentally knocked into someone in the hallway with her bottom or had been forced to press her arse cheeks or tits against the wall to squeeze through gaps. It was embarrassing, to be constantly reminded of her new shape, of just how much her mobility had been taken from her.

And of course, as if she weren't gaining enough weight by the magic of the potion alone, Hermione had unfortunately developed a ravenous appetite. No matter how much she tried to resist, she found eating a lot than usual whenever she feasted in the Great Hall than, whether it be for breakfast, lunch or dinner. For whatever reason, some compulsion from the magic of the potion or whatever, her body simply loved food.

No matter what the meal was, no matter what her feelings were on it before, every bite, every scrap, it all tasted amazing to her now. If she could barely finish a single plate a few weeks ago, she could easily clean two or three now. There were times when Hermione wanted to abandon table manners and just devour it all, shoving food into her mouth with her hands and fingers. Then she was inevitably reminded of Ron's similar disposition to table manners and suddenly the desire left her mind.

How the hell did Ron eat like this for all these years and not become a whale? He was always a lanky boy who struggled to put on pounds and yet he ate enough to feed ten men. And here she was shovelling away food and paying the price for it. It was absolutely not fair. Then again, she remembered, the weight was curiously only targeting certain areas. Contrary to how much her body had changed over the past fortnight, her face remained relatively unchanged (most likely another symptom of the potion's magic). Her hands as well remain quite deft, her arms maintaining some pleasing form, rather than those awful bingo wings she sometimes saw.

Regardless of that small mercy, Hermione knew she needed to start losing weight, if only to spare her poor clothes the strain. It would certainly help to loosen them up again, if only to stop the rubbing against her skin. Oh, the rubbing... Sometimes the fabric of her panties rubbed against her cunt lips so hard, she could edge herself just by walking to and from class. And the way her erect nipples would scrape the insides of her bra cups was exhilarating.

This of course was a symptom of perhaps the worst problem of all. Her libido was out of control. She was always horny, all the time. Sometimes, it felt like this desperate little itch that she needed to scratch and other times it was a raging inferno that just couldn't be sated, no matter how hard she tried. This was accompanied by an intense building sensation in her tits whenever she had gone too long without milking herself, like a sneeze that would never come or... god forbid, an orgasm that would never climax, to a painful degree.

Most of the time, it was only one or the other that she had to suffer with. Sometimes, the worst times, both sensations would happen at once. And when that happened, Hermione could only compare it to torture.

It was truly nightmarish when it happened in lessons, as Hermione would be unable to concentrate on what was happening and she would be forced to discreetly play with herself in the middle of class, missing out on important information.

That was what happened today, right in the middle of a Charms test. For a brief moment, Hermione thought she would make it through an entire day without either her tits or her pussy acting up, and for the first half of the test it very well seemed that way.

Then the tingling began, a soft buzz behind her nipples and in her core. A tingling that soon rose into a throbbing and – without a moment's warning – a spike of heat struck from within. Her cunt and tits spasmed with need and it took Hermione all that she had to stop herself from moaning out loud.

Even as the initial wave subsided, Hermione could feel her panties dampening, soaking her skirt and running onto the seat of her chair. It wouldn't be long now before her tits would be leaking. Hermione began to panic. She tried desperately to focus on the paper in front of her, but only a few minutes would pass before another spasm ripped through her body and her pussy gushed.

Why was this happening now? Was it because she forgot to milk herself this morning? Damn her own incompetence! She should have known this would happen!

In the end, Hermione had no choice but to hurriedly fill in every answer she could remember, hoping that it would be enough to pass. Once the test was complete, she hastily left the classroom, leaving a puddle of her pussy juices on her poor, abused chair.

There was only one plan of action: hurry back to her dorm room and regain her composure before anyone saw her in this state. A plan which was becoming all the more routine in the last few days. Hermione didn't know what else to do. All of this was too much. She could barely handle it all on her own and she certainly couldn't go to Madam Pomfrey or McGonagall with her troubles. If they found out she had been using an illegal Animagus potion, she would be expelled! She couldn't allow that to happen, not now! Still, maybe expulsion would be preferable after all, considering that she would no longer have to deal with all the students.

The looks that she was getting from other people! Some of them were sending her hungry leers as they looked at her rapidly growing breasts and arse, jiggling against her tight clothes as she walked past them in the hallways. Others were looking at her with amused looks and some even sent her disgusted glares as she passed by. Whispers from all corners of the castle, admiring and demeaning, met her ears constantly. That and the rhythmic clapping of her arse cheeks against one another with every embarrassing step, harmonising with the loud sloshing of milk from her gigantic tits. She felt like some freak show being forced to perform for them. And worse, deep down, some part of her was enjoying it.

Eventually, after many minutes of jiggling, sloshing and staring, Hermione reached the door to their dorm. She recited the password and pushed past the portrait as quickly as could. Once inside, the portrait hole locked behind her, Hermione sighed and leant against the inside of the door.

Immediately, a familiar smell of tea and masculine aroma filled her nostrils and she relaxed. She was safe, away from prying eyes, away from judgement. Hermione didn't know what she would do without a place of her own to escape to. Here, she could spend her time with just Harry, only the two of them for company.

Hermione knew he would be here, this was his free period, after all. After last week's surprise, she had taken to memorising Harry's calendar, so she knew exactly where he was at all times. However, despite her best intentions, she often found herself forgetting and had to be reminded with a mini timetable in her bag - that stupid potion was having more of an effect than she realised. Knowing when Harry was around to help made her condition much more manageable. It also gave her an excuse for monopolising Harry's time, keeping him all to herself. She knew it was selfish, but she just couldn't help it, not with all those other girls in the castle eying for his attention.

Harry still hadn't picked up on the real reason she was so excited to have him as head boy with her this year. Then again why would he? He was never very good at it in the past.

Hermione frowned and felt her face heat up. Her crush on her best friend had only been getting worse recently. No matter how many times Hermione told herself it would never happen, that the affection he was showering on her was just pity, her heart couldn't be swayed. He was just so confident nowadays, what with Voldemort gone. It was like he could finally be himself. Hermione couldn't help but fixate on how he stood taller, how he smiled brightly, how he sought her touch.

She had seen peeks of him, lounging in t-shirts and tracksuit bottoms. The amount of time she had stolen just to stare at his body in those thin layers of clothing was unthinkable. He looked so bloody sexy without even trying. Many hours of rigorous Quidditch practice had done his body so much good. It also helped that he was by far the kindest, most valiant person she had even known. He was so reliable in the way he could comfort her, support her, confide in her and her in him. Harry knew more about her than she would ever trust with anyone else, even Ron or her parents. Not that those two were anywhere to be seen nowadays.

Harry was all she had left, but he was more than enough. It was them against the world, just like always and now Hermione had him all to herself. She could fall into his arms, talk to him, rely on him to calm her down when she felt like her life was falling apart. Hermione needed him. Her Harry, her rock, her best friend...

Hermione's thoughts were interrupted when she felt a peculiarly warm sensation against her top. Confused, the teenager looked down only to see two damp spots forming in the fabric around her nipples. Dammit, she must have drifted off again!

"Harry!" she called out desperately.

He was there in a moment, still half-dressed in his Quidditch slacks, ready with a bottle, as was routine for them by now.

Without another word, other than some sweet reassurance, he confidently guided her to their sofa. Hermione couldn't help but thank the heavens that she only started leaking when she did. She couldn't imagine what she would have done had she started leaking during class on top of her tits and pussy screaming for release. It would have been the end of her social life. Luckily though, she wouldn't have to think about that now. Harry was here. Harry would make things right.

Her sodden jumper was quickly abandoned and her magically-enlarged bra was unhooked, leaving her naked from the waist up. To her dismay, a puddle of milk had already formed in the cups of her bra with even more leaking out every second like a creamy waterfall. Not wanting to spill anymore, Hermione carefully stuffed her nipple into the neck of the bottle in Harry's hand, a procedure made much more difficult with how thick and stubby her nipples had grown. They used to be able to easily fit her entire nub into that tiny space, as well as most of her areola. Nowadays it is a much tighter squeeze. Nevertheless, they just about fit her nipple inside and Hermione began massaging her tit, coaxing milk out of herself.

Hermione kept a hold on the first bottle as Harry screwed a second onto her opposite nipple to capture the river of milk streaming from it. Neither of them would have scarcely believed only a week ago that they would ever require a second bottle, let alone two at the same time, but now they needed both to contain the flow. And what a flow it was, so much so it made last week's leak look like a trickle in comparison. Spurt after spurt of milk burst out of her nipples with every squeeze, like water pouring out of a jug. Her big, fat milky jugs... No! Stay focused, Hermione told herself. Have to stay focused!

As one bottle was filled, Harry was ready with another to take its place, switching out each one with surgical precision. The filled bottles were placed in a crate to the side, ready to be kept in their mini-fridge. A week of daily milking had left the fridge nearly bursting with bottles, however Hermione still refused to let any of her milk be thrown away. It was silly of her to do so, they never used any of it, but for whatever, she just couldn't bring herself to let Harry dispose of it, not a single drop. Funnily enough, for whatever reason, even the oldest bottles of her milk had yet to go off. They were still as fresh as the day they were milked. Must be some sort of magic preserving it, whether in the fridge or the milk itself.

Even as a fourth bottle was completely filled up, there was no end to the stream. The tingling sensation continued to buzz within her breast and Hermione redoubled her efforts. Her mind became singularly focused on the squeeze and release of her expansive tit-flesh, milking herself for every drop, just to make the pain go away. And all the while, Harry was there making sure there was always another bottle for her to release her milk into. All that Hermione had to worry about was getting as much milk out of her as she could, relishing in every luscious spurt that erupted from within her titties.

Inevitably, Hermione lost all track of time as her mind wandered, drowning in the sensation of it all. She lost count of the number of bottles held up to her nipples, the constant rhythm of grabbing and wringing her massive milk tanks. From the depths of the pleasurable mist of her brain came a long, soft moan. It was hoarse and mindless, instinctual like breathing.

It all felt so.. right, like there was nothing better in the world. Truthfully, Hermione wished that these moments could go on forever. No worries, no stress, no responsibilities, just the satisfaction of milking herself like some big dumb cow... Cows didn't need to worry about grades or tests or what others thought about them... Their only purpose was to be milked, to be cared for... Maybe that was what she could do after Hogwarts, find someone to look after her, to milk her all day, everyday... To reduce her to a life of sheer bliss...

Eventually however, she felt both bottle necks leave her nipples, exposing them to the cold air. Hermione waited for the next pair but her heart sank when no others took their place.

Hermione opened her eyes and subsequently gasped in dismay. Harry was sitting in front of her, wide-eyed and anxious, surrounded by a mountain of bottles full of her milk. The crate of empty bottles was barren. There was nothing else they could use. A scenario they once thought impossible had unfortunately come to pass. The bottles had run out. And yet, even after drawing an untold amount of milk from her swollen nipples, the creamy liquid continued to flow.

"There's still more!" Hermione gasped, utterly overwhelmed. "How is there still more?!"

The pair found themselves utterly perplexed. This shouldn't be happening. They'd never run out of bottles before. They'd made it a point to store up enough so that they would never possibly run out. And yet somehow they had!

The magic of potion was clearly accelerating the change in her body, Hermione realised. Her milk output had increased no end in such a short amount of time, to an unnatural degree. This had to be another side effect of the Animagus transformation. What the hell was she changing into that could make this much milk? Maybe she really was changing into a cow...

"Don't panic," Harry whispered, planting a quick kiss on the cheek, "I'll fix this."

Harry immediately rummaged around their kitchen for more bottles. He searched through the rubbish, in cabinets, in the depths of the fridge, for anything they could use. All the while milk streamed out of her nipples, overflowing in her hands as she tried to keep it all in. Hermione hissed as a stinging sensation, a pressure building up inside her tits, buzzed just beneath the skin of her nipples.

"Urgh, it hurts!" she cried, her eyes watering. "Harry, please hurry!"

Her cries of pain made Harry's search all the more desperate. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, they both knew he wouldn't find another bottle. They were stuck. Hermione couldn't milk it all into the sink, they'd tried that before. For whatever reason, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't physically milk herself knowing that the milk would be wasted. It was like a mental block, or more probably another side effect of the potion. Either way-

"Harry, help me, please!"

Harry turned back to his best friend, only to find her balling with tears. The young man stared at her for a moment, before his Gryffindor side got the best of him. No other options.

In what was either the dumbest or bravest move of his life, Harry marched over the sofa and pulled Hermione into his lap. Hermione squealed as she landed on his muscular thighs. Before Hermione could even cry out to ask him what on earth he thought he was doing, Harry leaned his head forward, placed his lips around her large nipple and began to suck as hard as he could. Bursts of thick breast milk were forced out of her nipple and straight into Harry's waiting mouth.

In an instant, her protests fell away. The sensation that Hermione felt was nothing short of orgasmic. Her head emptied of all thoughts except the feeling of his lips latched on her tit and his tongue licking up her luscious milk. The teen was so enraptured in the pleasure of Harry sucking on her tits, she missed the small groan of ecstasy from Harry's throat as he finally tasted her sweet nectar.

The first pull filled his mouth so fast that Harry was all but forced to swallow. There was an audible gulp as the liquid travelled down his gullet, only to be replaced with more, flowing out of her nipple faster than it ever had before.

Mouthful after mouthful was drawn out of her breasts and all the while Harry kept on sucking and swallowing, drinking down more and more breastmilk with each pull. Hermione could do nothing but sit and moan. The ache in her breasts that had tormented her for hours had vanished, as if it were never there. In its place, travelling through her nipples and down into her core, was a wave of pure, unfiltered lust.

Her body was paralysed with ecstasy, one hand holding Harry's head in place, right up into her expansive tit, the other kneading her opposite breast feverishly. Her hips ground unconsciously against him and she could swear she heard Harry groan with satisfaction.

Eventually the flow of milk ebbed and Harry pulled away, wiping his mouth clean. The buzz in her tit was gone and she felt drained in the best way possible.

"Harry," Hermione gasped, her face covered in an intense blush, "you didn't have to do that-"

"Hermione," he growled, the vibrations in his voice sending shivers straight to her pussy, "that is the best fucking drink I've ever tasted."

"It... it is?"

Instead of replying, Harry merely took hold of her other tit, grasping it tight enough to squeeze out a spurt of milk. His dark, green eyes staring up into hers, he pulled it ferociously into his waiting mouth.

Immediately the pleasure returned and Hermione was lost for words once again. Her throat could only emit a loud and continuous moan as she rode out a wave of pleasure that was somehow just as good as the first time, possibly even better.

If milking into the bottles before felt right, then this... this felt even more right... it felt righter... more right... more... more!

That was when she felt something else, something large and hard pushing up into her bottom from the seat of Harry's sports trousers. He was enjoying this too, she realised. He was enjoying it a lot. Tentatively, still holding Harry's head to her breast, Hermione jostled her hips against his, teasing the tent in his lap. Immediately, she felt his meaty erection throb. The rumble of a groan vibrated against her nipple, sending shivers throughout her body. His fingers gripped her tits all the tighter as if he owned them. Hermione moaned and another spurt of milk shot into Harry's mouth. It wasn't long before the two were dry humping each other, grasping each other as hard as they could bear.

"M- More, Harry!" Hermione pleaded, grinding her cunt against his clothed cock. "Please! M... M-Moo..."

In a moment of clarity, Harry froze and Hermione all but cried out from withdrawal. His mouth left her nipple and he stared up into his best friend's face, contorted in frustration at having her pleasure denied to her. Despite the shock, his cock spasmed in his trousers, bulging against Hermione's pussy lips.

"What did you just-?"

But Hermione was too far gone now to listen to reason.

"For god's sake Harry, don't fucking stop!"

And so what should have been a warning sign, the big red flag, was swiftly forgotten and Harry hurriedly continued. And as more and more milk flooded Harry's tongue and rushed down his throat, the less he cared.

"That's it!" Hermione gasped. "Suck on mm- my tits. Suck mm- me dry. I'm- I'm- mmm- moo! Moo!"

Just like last time, as if that word unlocked some primal desire within him, Harry cock jumped in pure lust, right up into Hermione's soft flesh. And Hermione revelled in it. Every time she moo'ed, Harry grew ever harder and Hermione grew more unhinged. Her pussy was soaking the seat of his lap, drenching his cock in her cum with every desperate thrust of her hips.

Eventually it all came crashing down. With one final vicious pull on her nipples, caught between his teeth, his cock pushing against her sodden core closer than ever before, Hermione screamed. Her pussy lips shook and she flooded Harry's lap as an orgasm ripped through her. It wasn't long afterwards when she felt Harry's body shake and fall into a tired state.

The two teens stared at each other, holding each other close, clawing for each breath with red faces and wide eyes. What the hell do they do now? How are they supposed to carry on from this? This... this was a step too far. They both knew it... this was...

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, his voice mired in something like disbelief.

It was all Hermione could do to nod, her face thoroughly flushed and her body tingling all over.

"Yes... yes, I am." She gazed down at him, her pussy still buried right up against his length. "T-Thank you, Harry."

Her best friend glanced at her, looking her up and down, before his eyes glinted mischievously.

"I think..." he paused, before conjuring a deep breath. He stared into her eyes from beneath his lashes, like a wolf stalking his prey. "I think we should do that more often."

Hermione blinked, her lips forming an 'O' in shock. She honestly thought he might run away and refuse to speak to her again. But the idea that this could happen again... that they might... Hermione nodded vigorously.

"I agree."

There was a clear look of relief on Harry's face and he smiled a lopsided smile that squeezed her heart almost as hard as he had squeezed her milky tit not minutes ago. He sighed, looking around them at the mountains of bottles filled with milk. Hermione noticed them too and blushed.

"So, the bottles..." she began before Harry cut her off.

"No." His voice was firm, authoritative and she felt her core flare with warmth. "I don't think we're gonna need them around any more."

"You think so?" she asked and he nodded.

"Definitely. I mean, as long as you don't-"

"No," Hermione quickly reassured him. "I... I'd like that. You won't tell anyone about this, will you, Harry?"

Harry grinned cheekily up at her, casually fondling her tit.

"Of course not. I'm keeping this all to myself."

Hermione didn't know if he was referring to their shared milking session or to her. Either way, she really didn't mind. In her mind, after what he'd just made her feel, if Harry wanted her he could have her. Hell, he already did.

The pair eventually stood up from the sofa, taking stock of themselves

"Oh shit, I've-" Harry pointed at his lap, still soaked with their cum. His face red with embarrassment, Hermione noted, as if he hadn't just made her cum harder than she'd ever cum in her life.

Yet, as she looked down and really stared at the wet patch on his trousers, something in the back of her brain went off. Her mind was filled with a curiosity of some kind, a fascination with what lay beneath. And the smell, she hadn't noticed it before in the heat of the moment, but now they had calmed down and she was allowed to take it all in... something inside her told that she needed more of it. To study it, to understand it, of course.

She noticed his eyes glancing to the laundry room, then to the dirty pile of clothes strewn on the floor earlier.

"I'll just-"

"I'll get those," Hermione interjected more eagerly than she had intended.. Harry glanced at her with surprise.

"Really? Because I can just-"

"Oh, don't worry, I'll wash them," Hermione shrugged, trying to appear casual despite the overwhelming need thrumming just beneath the surface.. Besides, it's technically my fault, so..."

"Right," Harry murmured, but made no note of it.

In time, the dirty laundry was collected in a basket to be delivered to the laundry room. During that time, Hermione hooked her bra back on, making at least some attempt to redress herself. Soon enough, Harry, now dressed in a clean pair of trousers and a shirt, handed the basket over to an eager Hermione.

"Thanks," he smiled and she smiled back.

"You're welcommm..."

Before Harry could bring her up on her verbal tic, Hermione was already marching to the laundry room. She was in such a hurry that she didn't notice how Harry stared at her arse jiggling every step of the way as well as the smirk that appeared on his face.

Laundry was an airy room full of small basins, racks and cupboards, the standard set up for a seventh year student dorm. Seventh years were expected to have some autonomy with washing, drying and folding their laundry, as opposed to younger years who relied on the house-elves. Hermione much preferred it that way, it was how she was raised after all. It also allowed her some privacy at this very moment.

She placed the basket of laundry on a counter and began to sift through the many trousers, skirts, shirts, socks, underwear, sports wear and other items from their collective wardrobes.. Quickly peering out of the corner of her to make sure she wasn't being watched, she dug through the dirty clothing until she found the source of that luscious smell that refused to leave her brain..

Harry's boxers. The same boxers he had been wearing earlier. Still dirty with his cum as well as anything else it might have collected. It should be repulsive to a girl as prim and proper as her but at that moment, there was nothing she desired more.

She shouldn't be doing this. Harry could walk in at any moment. What the hell would he think if he saw her literally airing his dirty laundry? Besides, this behaviour was below her. Just because she had been changed by the potion to a startling degree that doesn't mean that she should lower herself to this, giving into her base desires like... like some...

Hermione's resolve shattered as a waft of pure musk hit her nostrils. Screw it. She couldn't wait any more. Like a woman parched for water, Hermione pressed Harry's dirty boxers against her nose and took a deep breath.

Musk, cum, sweat and dirt filled her nose in one big sniff. The smell filled her head and her mind went blank. She could feel her mouth water in pure desire, her fresh white panties soaking themselves with the amount of pussy juice flooding out of her. Her nipples tingled and would have surely spurted milk had she any left to give.

Hermione breathed in again and the sensations flooded through with the exact same intensity. Her pussy lips all but vibrated, crying out for satisfaction, for something to fill them. Her knees felt weak, her head clouded like her brain was made of wool.

It was the best thing she had ever smelt, better than any perfume, any food, anything. It made her feel whole and yet empty all at same time. It was terrifying, exciting, overwhelming, relaxing.

Most of all, it made her feel so goddamn horny.

It took many minutes for Hermione to regain her composure and when she did she scolded herself for what she had done. Well, it was a half-hearted scolding because really even in her lucid state, she had half a mind to march into Harry's room and see if she couldn't get that lovely taste straight from the source.

Only half a mind, mind you. They weren't truly there yet. Yes, they had shared an intimate moment, but it was only one moment, really. Hell, they might never pass beyond that one threshold. She might never get the chance to taste Harry's... the thought alone was heartbreaking.

Still, if their milking sessions were all they were allowed, then it would still be the best thing that Hermione had ever experienced. She would be happy with that. She could live with just that. So long as she had... other things quell her hunger for Harry's scent.

Hermione carefully put Harry's boxers to the side, away from the rest of the laundry. They were sure to come in useful later. Very useful.

It wasn't long before Hermione moved onto the rest of the laundry, including her own. Her wardrobe was nothing to write home about. Just basic clothes, a few skirts, jackets, t-shirts. Even her underwear was hardly that provocative. She usually preferred plain colours or even just pure white. It wasn't like anyone, other than Harry, would ever see it nowadays.

Oddly enough, though, she had been feeling partial to a pair of black and white polka dot panties recently, more so than any other pair. Something about the patterns, the contrasting colours. Funny, it was almost like...

A thought occurred to Hermione as she picked up those same panties, for but a fraction of a second, but it was enough to stick. Should she try it? Maybe, just for a bit, just to see. It wasn't like it would actually look nice. At least she'd know.

Using a quick bit of transfiguration, Hermione waved her wand and the pattern on the panties changed. Lying in front of her were the same pair of panties, but the black and white polka dots had morphed and changed into large, sporadic splotches of black against plain white. A cow-print pattern.

Hermione glanced around, then shook her head as she remembered she was already alone. The teenager carefully lowered the cow-print panties and stepped into them. Happy that they still fit, she turned towards a large mirror in the corner and examined herself.

To her surprise they actually looked... really nice. She had to admit, the bovine pattern did wonders against her pale skin, the stark black going very nicely against her dark chocolate hair and brown eyes. Hermione swivelled on the spot to see her other side, looking over her shoulder at her bottom. For whatever reason, the cow-print looked amazing on her wide, round arse. She could swear it made her cheeks look even... bigger. And for some reason she really didn't mind that fact at all. In fact... she loved it.

Another thought occurred to Hermione and she wasted no time putting it into motion. The curvy young woman looked at her plain white bra, magically enlarged to fit her new tits. Immediately, Hermione knew what it needed. She cast the same spell as before, covering it in the same cow print pattern, and admired herself in the mirror.

The combined outfit of the bra and panties somehow made her look even better. Delighted, Hermione twirled around, loving how her tits and ass jiggled against the fabric. For a few moments she merely stood staring at her reflection, playing with a stray lock of hair. She couldn't help but wonder if Harry would like to see her in this outfit. Would he be able to resist claiming her as she was, looking like this? She bet he would love making her his big, fat, sexy cow...

Hermione giggled vacantly at the thought.

In truth, she really wouldn't mind being Harry's cow... would she be a good cow, she wondered? She would certainly be the smartest cow that ever was, and besides, Harry couldn't drink all of her milk by himself... could he? Though the more she thought about it, she wasn't sure she'd ever want anyone but Harry drinking her milk. It was their secret. Their special ritual.

It belonged to Harry just like Hermione... She was his... All his...

Her mind snapped out of her reverie as she remembered the time. It would be dinner soon in the Great Hall and she needed to get dressed already. After all, how could she pass up on all of that glorious food?

Hermione moaned in a very un-Hermione-like fashion as she lay prone on top of her sodden bedsheets. Her clothes were strewn about the room haphazardly, her textbooks lay forgotten in a dark corner. The horny teenager wriggled and writhed as she twisted and squeezed her large, puffy nipples, causing milk to squirt out of them at a frightening pace. The creamy liquid soaked the sheets around her, dirtying them along with her sweat and cum.

The once exemplary student had been like this for the entire afternoon, chasing an orgasm that would seemingly never come. No matter how much she twisted and caressed her clit, no matter how many fingers she shoved into her ravenous pussy, there was no relief. Hermione knew she should be studying right now. There was so much work she had yet to do, assignment she had yet to start, instead abandoned for all the hours on end spent masturbating, milking, indulging in the burning heat of her fat pussy. Five more minutes, she always told herself, just five more minutes and she'd be able to come.

This kind of behaviour, this level of depraved indulgence would have been unthinkable to Hermione only three weeks ago. That Hermione would never have wasted her days fingering herself like a slut, ignoring her responsibilities in the pursuit of pleasure. It just went to show just how drastically she had been changed in such a short amount of time.

Her body was now almost unrecognisable from before the potion. Where there was once some shape or sculpture, her body had been rounded with fat. Her once slim and toned frame was gone and in its place was now a widely rotund, chubby body.

Her breasts, which had once upon a time been modest B-cups, were now beyond any sort of measurement. Each breast was twice the size of her head, big enough to cover her torso entirely, almost reaching down to her belly button.

These massive tits seemed to have a mind of their own, as they constantly leaked a never-ending supply of milk. Gallons and gallons of fresh creamy goodness flowed from her engorged nipples every day, more than she knew what to do with. It had gotten to the point where Hermione had taken to drinking her own milk whenever she was peckish, which was most of the time now.

Along with her mammoth tits, Hermione now had wide hips and a thick ass that swallowed her underwear. Her bottom was simply ginormous, bigger than any seat and almost as spacious as the door frames she struggled to squeeze through nowadays. Above a pair of soft, chubby thighs sat a pillowy belly bulging and stretching her clothes to the limits.

Honestly, it was a wonder if anything fit her nowadays. Her jumpers had been rendered almost useless, having been enlarged to the size of parachutes to accommodate her, the fibres stretched so tight over her curves they were practically transparent. Her skirt, once enough to cover her down the knees, now barely covered her underwear, exposing her often soaked cow-print panties to the open air. Oftentimes, especially when alone, Hermione much preferred to be in the nude, to allow her body to breathe. In fact, if it were allowed, she would happily be nude all the time.

If she were herself, Hermione might have noticed just how extreme the transformation was, how unnaturally her body had changed thanks to the magic of the potion. It wasn't just that she was gaining weight, oh no. Her body itself was changing, morphing into something else. Her first clue should have been that, despite how much weight she'd put on, her body was no less healthy. The curvaceous young woman rarely felt out of breath even after vigorous exercise. She could walk long distances and even jog when she wanted to and all the while feel completely fine. No heartburn, no muscles aches, nothing.

It was like she was built to be this big, like the potion was infecting her DNA. Little did Hermione know, no matter how much walking she did, the Animagus magic would make sure she put on the pounds and would forever keep her at this weight. This also came with the compulsion to eat more and more food, accelerating the process and making sure to keep her on the back-foot when it came to losing weight.

In truth, unless they found a cure for the potion soon, Hermione might never be able to change back to her old body.

Then again, why would she even want to?

She loved her new body, she loved it more than anything. For years she used to be such a skinny girl, always being looked over by everyone, having to fight to be noticed as a girl. No one ever gave her a second look before she drank the potion.

Now however, people can't stop looking. She was sexier now than she had ever been as a know-it-all bookworm. Hermione had always wished that her tits were bigger and now they were simply to die for, bigger than Lavender's, Susan's, or any other girl she knew. In fact, Hermione was certain she had the biggest tits in the castle, with an ass that any girl could only dream of, a pillow of fat that would jiggle around whenever she moved. It always provided her with a comfy seat, even in chairs she no longer fit in.

On top of this, Hermione felt positively radiant. Her skin had a warm glow, there was more colour in her face, replacing her once pale complexion. It wasn't long ago when Hermione would be afraid to look at herself, ashamed of her body, wishing she could be different. Now she couldn't get enough of herself. She loved to stare at herself, to twirl around to study all of her curves, how they jiggled and swayed with every movement. Most of all though, she loved feeling other people's eyes on her body, especially Harry's.

Despite his attempts to appear otherwise, to keep himself detached for her sake, Hermione knew that Harry was enraptured by her. She could sense it, beneath the concern and worry that he showed. He loved her new body as well and he loved to indulge in it whenever he could. Just as they'd agreed, Harry had continued to drink her milk straight from the source.

Every day, sometimes even twice a day, the pair would find themselves on their shared sofa with Harry sucking on her needy tits, drinking as much of her tasty milk as he could muster. And Hermione was very happy to encourage him, often with rigorous amounts of dry humping and constantly leaning into him, whispering to him, moaning in his ear. There were even a couple of times when there was almost something more, when the pair would stare into each other's eyes and lean, but Harry always backed away. There was a reluctance in him that refused to let him truly give into his desire, a strong moral code that Hermione both loved and despised.

And as much as she knew Harry wanted her, Hermione wanted him back just as much. Her best friend, once such a shy and timid child, had grown into a tall, handsome man in recent years. His eyes, his hair, his smile, his lithe body - and good God his smell! Hermione could never figure out why but Harry's scent was simply the best thing she had ever smelled. It was a special scent, one unique to Harry, that always made her happier and hornier, and its influence over her mind was growing by the day. In fact, her fascination with his lovely musk was bordering on obsession, so much so that she had taken to stealing stray pairs of his worn underwear, just to get more of that pure masculine essence she craved.

The real prize, though, should she be so lucky to get it, was Harry's Quidditch uniform, discarded after a long, laborious practice session. The precious combination of dirt and sweat mixed into a glorious aroma that had her brain buzzing and her pussy soaking. It was as close to Harry as she could get without walking up to the real thing, pulling down his trousers and sucking him off there and then.

If she could, Hermione often took some of his soiled garments to bed with her, and as she slept, her nose full of Harry's dirty musk, her dreams were always dominated by a strong, faceless man pinning her down and having his way with her. One day she hoped that it might be Harry above her, pumping his fat cock into her gushing pussy, punching her pleasure with each thrust.

Just the thought brought her close to orgasm. Hermione sped up her pumping, inserting three then four fingers into her greedy cunt, holding a dirty pair of Harry's underwear to her nose and taking deep, long sniffs. The desperate slut moaned in delight, as juices gushed from her pussy, soaking her hand.

The moment was interrupted by a sharp knock on her bedroom door.

" Hermione! Hermione!" Harry's voice, clearly incensed, rang out from the other side. There he was, she smiled, always nearby when she needed him. The door opened when no answer was heard and Harry's concerned face was revealed to her.

" You've been in here all day. What's going-?"

It was clear from the way his body immediately froze up and a frightful blush erupted on his cheeks that he was completely unprepared for the sight in front of him. Hermione lay in front of him, her cum-sodden fingers still teasing her fat pussy whilst her other hand continued to knead her large tit.

" Mmm, hello Harry?" Hermione moaned, an airy smile plastered on her round face. "Is it time for my daily milking?"

A tense silence filled the room before Harry built the courage to speak.

" I've just spoken with McGonagal. Turns out you have five late assignments. Five . You've never turned in an assignment late before now."

" Hmm? Oh..." Hermione hummed with plain disinterest, which only served to rule up her best friend even more.

" Hermione, what's going on?" Harry insisted. "You're not acting like yourself."

" Well, I've been distracted," she waved her hand lazily.

" The Hermione I know wouldn't rest until she was caught up," he argued. "She would make sure that whatever was happening to her didn't set her back."

" It isn't," she whined childishly.

" Oh yeah? What did you get on your last test?"

Even while trying her best to appear unaffected, Hermione couldn't but blush at the admonishment.

" That's not important," she replied meekly.

Focusing in class had become such a challenge for Hermione and it was only worse when she was horny, or when her breasts started to ache in pain – which was most of the time. Because of her distractions, and the fact that some words and subjects became so hard to comprehend, it was no wonder why she struggled to keep up her academic performance. The fact that she had come dead last on a recent test was evidence enough of how titanically her priorities had shifted.

Harry could only sigh irritably, only for his mouth to fall open when he noticed what she was holding.

" Is that my underwear?" he asked. "What have you been-?"

His eyes followed a trail of dirty laundry to a pile of clothes that looked suspiciously like his own. Pants and trousers and even a spare pair of Quidditch uniform he had lost a few days ago. The pieces came together in Harry's head as he realised just how dire the situation was.

" Okay, that's it," he announced as she marched over and pulled Hermione up off the bed with surprising strength, "you need an intervention. I told you I'd help you deal with.. whatever the hell this is, but this has gone far enough. You need to- Hermione?"

But Hermione wasn't listening. Instead, the curvy teenage witch was staring transfixed down at Harry's crotch, where a clearly visible tent had itched itself. Harry cursed his stupid hormones, he must have gotten hard after seeing Hermione masturbating. Then again it was hard not to. Despite the concern he harboured about Hermione's well-being, the image of her covered in milk and sweat fingering her soaking pussy for his enjoyment was perhaps the hottest thing he had ever seen.

Harry looked up into the face of his best friend, only to find a pair of eyes darkened with pure lust, her mouth open and visibly drooling.

" No, wait, hold on-" he sputtered but it was too late.

Hermione was already on her knees, undoing his belt and unzipping the front of his trousers. It didn't take her long to get to his cock, but in her mind every second without seeing it in front of her was a second wasted. Reaching into his pant, Hermione grabbed his cock and pulled it out of its confines. Six inches of uncircumcised fuck meat appeared int front of her eyes. The stench that came with it - pure, unfiltered, teenage musk – almost made her cum on the spot.

" There you are," she sang, greeting his cock like an old friend.

" No, we shouldn't-" Harry gasped as his best friend took hold of his throbbing shaft. "Hermione-"

But his protests were silenced as his new slut-in-training planted a gentle kiss on the tip, taking in a dollop of pre cum into her mouth. A single drop on her tongue was enough for Hermione to decide that Harry's spunk was her new favourite drink.

She then moved on from the tip, wanting to explore more of her true love's dick, trailing kisses all the way down the shaft until she met the base. From there, she pressed her face up into a pair of round, heavy testicles, slathering and caressing them with her lips.

" Mmm, urgh these balls..." she moaned as if she were tasting the finest chocolate. This was where all of Harry's tasty cum was stored, the place where his delicious spunk was churning away, waiting to be released. In her mind, it was a truly sacred place, so she endeavoured to worship it with every fibre of her being. And as Hermione endowed his ball with slow, deliberate, sloppy kisses, Harry could only gasp, frozen by the sheer eroticism of the scene below him.

Eventually, having decided that she had lathered enough attention on his cum tanks, Hermione shuffled backward, gripping Harry's cock again. She studied the small drops of pre cum sliding of the tip and smiled. Making sure not to waste a single drop, Hermione leaned forward slowly and inserted it into her waiting mouth. Harry groaned as inch after inch met her warm tongue, which made Hermione shiver in delight. Deeper and deeper down his cock slid into her throat, until she could taste every inch. She revelled in its glorious size, how it felt so soft and hard at the same time.

After a few seconds of tight, moist ecstasy, Hermione allowed his dick to slide out, leaving a trail of spit and cum linking her lips to the tip of his dick, only to immediately re-engage. With loud, sloppy kisses from her puffy lips, she channelled her lust into giving her best friend, her first true love, a ravenous and messy blow job. It wasn't long before saliva and cum was slathered all over Harry's crotch and all across Hermione's face. The effect made the prim and proper bookworm resemble a well-used prostitute, her eyes almost completely black as she lost herself in the pleasure. All the while, the cock slut squeezed her giant milk tanks, wetting the grounds with her breast milk as played with herself.

Harry didn't know what was more intense, the sheer pleasure from receiving the best blowjob of his life, or the shock and dismay of seeing how far his best friend had fallen. Somehow, despite his attempts to save her, she had turned from a star pupil, the brightest of her age, into a cock-hungry cumslut. And the worst part was, he was enjoying it. He enjoyed having his best friend at his feet, sucking his cock and worshipping his balls. Maybe he could get used to this. He'd wanted Hermione for a long time now and finally he had her. Imagine...

No. This was wrong. This isn't who she is. The normal Hermione wouldn't want this and Harry couldn't just sit back and watch his best friend throw her life away. He had to do something and he had to do it now.

" Enough!" Harry roared.

Hermione reeled back in shock, sitting on her knees in front of him, staring up at him with wide eyes. Harry stared down at her, his cock rock hard, a small part of him enjoying authority he had over her. The devil on his shoulder told him that could order her to do whatever he wanted, he had her in the palm of his hand, but he had to resist. Hermione needed his help.

" This has to stop," he said without any room for discussion. As he began tucking his saliva-coated cock back into his pants, Hermione cried out.

" No! Please!" she begged hysterically. "Please let me suck your cock! It tastes so good. I'll do anything!"

" Anything?" Harry asked and Hermione nodded so hard her tits jiggled and her fat thighs wobbled. All of a sudden, a plan formed in his head. "Anything... Okay, I'll let you suck me off but only AFTER you finish all your late assignments."

Hermione's face morphed into one of shock, her plump lips pouting into an 'O' like a perfect, dick-sucking donut.

" Wh- what?"

" AND," he added, immediately silencing her, "you need to retake the test you failed, properly this time, like you usually would."

" N-No! That'll take hours!"

" Then you'd better get started."

Her eyes glittered with tears, a sight that made Harry's heart twist inside his chest, but he refused to relent. This was for the best, he reasoned, for both of them. Without warning, Hermione began crawling forward, her hands flying towards his trousers, desperate to get at his cock. Before she could go any further, however, Harry growled and grabbed her by the hair.

" Hey! No!" His other hand roughly cupped her face, forcing her to look up into his eyes. "Bad girl!"

To his surprise, Hermione visibly drooped at his reprimand, all confidence she once held drained out of her. It was staggering, the effect his words had on her. The control, the sense of ownership. It all came so naturally to him and he had no idea why.

" You do your work," Harry repeated, pinning her with an intense glare, "prove to me you can get back to normal or you'll never taste this cock again."

Once he was sure that she wouldn't try to disobey him again, he let go of her hair and took a step back. The moment she was freed from his grip, Hermione crossed her arms and huffed like a toddler deprived of sweets.

" Hmmph! Fine."

Even as she stood to leave, the mood thoroughly broken, Hermione could plainly see that he was still rock hard, dollops of cum dripping from his tip forming wet patches around his crotch. What was worse, Hermione could smell all of it, her nose somehow picking up every droplet as it left his tip. Her heart broke as drop after drop of delicious spunk was wasted, all because Harry was trying to help her.

Hermione's lust-addled mind decided that she couldn't allow this to happen again. She needed to finished all her work as soon as she could, if only to make sure that she got another go on that glorious fuck meat.

In the end it took the entire weekend for Hermione to finish all her work, just as Harry demanded. It was an arduous weekend of her working around the clock, in between milking sessions that she had to perform by herself! The only times when Harry interacted with her was to bring her back down to Earth every time she drifted off. Throughout her studying periods, Harry took it upon himself to commandeer her behaviour, giving her slaps on the wrist when she tried to sneak away, sending her stern looks on many occasions whenever she talked back, forcing her to continue with her studying at hand until she was done.

It took her until Sunday evening for her to finish her late assignments, dotting the last I and crossing the last T just as Harry's afternoon Quidditch practice came to a close. By that time her hands ached and her tits and pussy were all but shaking from withdrawal. However, it was all worth it for the relief she felt as she handed in her last piece of work, sliding it under Professor Flitwick's door. Finally, she was all caught up on her schoolwork. To be honest, as much as being forced to do her homework for days on end made her miserable, a part of Hermione, what was left of the old her, felt much better to be back on top of it all. Her mind was clearer than it had been in weeks and now she had only one target.

With a spring in her step, Hermione hurried back to her dorm and squeezed her rotund body through the portrait hole. The sex-deprived girl scanned her surrounding, searching for her man like a lion searching for her prey.

A moment later, she found him in his quidditch uniform, still dirty from practice. It looked like he had just got back and hadn't had time to have a shower yet. The young man noticed her ragged state and smiled. He walked over to her, standing up straight so as to use his height to his advantage as he stared down at her,

" It's all done?" he asked casually, as if he hadn't been the cause of her anguish all weekend. Hermione wanted to shout at him, to hit him, to curse him for being such a prat, but the moment she took a breath of his scent, she felt the need to submit. Glancing down at her feet, she nodded meekly.

" Yes, Harry," she replied, fiddling with her fingers.

" Alright then. Well done, Hermione," she heard him reply from above. Despite her impatience, Hermione couldn't help but preen at his validation. That was, until she heard the sound of his footsteps walking away from her, towards the stairs. "I'm just going to go for a shower. After that we'll-"

" Harry." The dangerous edge to her voice stopped him in his track. The young man turned around to find his dorm-mate glaring back at him. "I want my reward."

Harry really thought he could deprive her for days on end and not pay up? Absolutely not. Hermione might have changed a lot in the last few weeks but her stubbornness had remained perfectly intact, intertwined with a new need for cock that had grown all the more fierce and desperate since she'd been without his taste in her mouth.

The young man stared at her for a moment.

" What, now?" he asked.

" Yes," Hermione growled, latching onto his hand, "now!"

With an unnatural strength, Hermione proceeded to almost drag him up the small flight of stone steps to her bedroom. The door was promptly thrown open and Harry was beckoned towards her queen-sized bed.

" Wait, Hermione, I haven't-"

" Sit!"

Harry - feeling a mixture of amusement, fear and arousal - indulged her request and sat down on the end of the bed. Hermione was on her knees in an instant, fiddling with the strings of his Quidditch drawers until she gave up and simply tore them open. Immediately her hand grabbed the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down. The stench of his unwashed cock, caked in sweat from recent exercise, blasted her nostrils. The aroma hit her brain like fireworks and her eyes rolled up into her skull from a near-orgasmic sensation.

" Oh, I've mmm- missed this cock so much," she moaned as grabbed it with one hand and gave it a long lick. "Mmm, it tastes ammmazing."

However, before she could devour her favourite treat any further, she felt a large hand grab her face, squishing her flushed cheeks.

" What do you say?" Harry's voice rumbled from above her, as her face was held just slightly out of reach of his throbbing cock. Hermione squirmed and whined in defiance, overcome with a desperate need to suck dick..

" Harry, please-" she begged before she felt a sharp slap against her milky tits. The young slut squealed.

" What. Do. You. Say?" Her master insisted and her pussy drooled.

" Thank you, sir," she eventually moaned from between her puffy, dick-sucking lips. Harry raised an eyebrow.

" For what?" he added as if he were a stern teacher which only served to turn Hermione on even more.

" For mmm- making me do my homework like a good girl."

The passed her lips and Harry felt a spike of pure desire strike his dick, making it stand taller than it ever had before. Unable to resist, he pulled her face and pressed it up against his crotch, smooshing her thick lips against his dirty shaft and smothering her face in his musky sweat. Hermione could only moan, near-insensate with lust as she was forced to clean her lover's dirty cock. Just before she was about to faint with sheer arousal, he pulled her away again, causing her to almost cry with disappointment.

" And?" he added, wanting to draw out her torment for as long as possible.

The newly-awakened cock-slut moaned desperately. She needed to licked and sucked at his fat fuck meat, happy to play into her degradation for the chance.

" For letting mmm- me suck your giant, smelly cock," she gasped, as if every word was an orgasm in itself. "Please, sir, I need it. I need it so much. I'm your whore, sir. I'll do anything, please!"

Finally satisfied that he had broken her, Harry let go of her cheeks and pulled his hand away. Even with her restraint removed, Hermione remained still, her drooling mouth hovering near his shaft but not daring to move any closer. Even with her overwhelming desire driving her to indulge, she sat still, totally subservient. That realisation of just how much power he held over her made Harry's cock harden even more, until he was sure he could cum from just the slightest touch.

" Good girl," he smirked as he shifted his hands to rest behind his head. "Good whore."

The Man-Who-Won, the most powerful wizard in the world, nodded his head and Hermione wasted no time in returning to her master's cock, the cock that owned her mind, heart and soul.

She had no idea where this dominant streak had appeared from within Harry. Maybe it was always there, waiting to be unleashed in the right situations, or maybe it was due to Hermione's milk that he constantly ingested for the past two weeks. Perhaps the magic of the potion was affecting him too, moulding him into her perfect master. Hermione didn't care about it whatsoever. All that mattered was that he was here, lying on her bed like he owned it, allowing her to suck his cock for all it was worth. She trusted him more than anyone else in the world and now it was time to service her master.

Hermione, now on the edge of her sanity from the teasing, began to meticulously clean his cock of every bit of grime her tongue could find. She swallowed everything she could get, pre-cum, sweat, dirt, every little morsel she would devour. It was the ultimate degradation as bits and pieces, saliva and spunk, covered her face, ruining her pale complexion and all the while her pussy soaked itself. She was nothing more than Harry's living toilet, eating his filth like it was her favourite meal. Her reward for following his orders.

Every so often, Harry would groan in pleasure, telling her that she was doing the right things, and sometimes his groans would form words.

" Just like that you fat slut," were the first that she understood, and the just hearing them made her pussy spasm, spurting juices into her ruined panties.

It didn't take long, what with Hermione's eagerly sucking, to bring Harry to the brink of orgasm. A telltale moan alerted her that the end was near and she quickly rose up and brought her mouth down on his tip. Her hand pumped his shaft vigorously, drawing sputtering blessings from her lover's mouth until eventually, he crashed over.

A geyser of cum erupted up into her mouth with such force that it stunned her for a second. Her mouth quickly filled with his thick jizz, so quick that Hermione couldn't even gulp it down before another spurted into her. She drew back for breath, only for a third, fourth, fifth shot to land on her face. This continued for several seconds before his cock gave one last spasm and relented, by that time Hermione's face was coated in layers and layers of cum. Several locks of her bushy brown were matted with spunk and Hermione smiled proudly, happy that her master had adorned her, dirtied her, with his blessing. Her swollen lips were plastered with a blend of her own spit and Harry's cock juice. She gave them an experimental lick and found it to be one of the best tastes in the world.

The sheer amount of spunk that he had unloaded was unlike anything she could imagine. It was easily more than what ten men could unleash and it reminded her of the absurd amounts of milk that she had been leaking over the past few days. This change in him had to have something to do with the milk he'd been drinking, the magic of the potion must be affecting him too. That would explain a lot of things that hasn't been adding up recently, why Harry had suddenly witched from a shy but caring boy to a dominant sex machine. However, of all the things the potion could explain, the sheer adoration in his eyes she noticed as she looked up into his face, the care he took to caress her cheek with his calloused thumb that made her want to 'moo' from sheer contentment... that was something more, something that had always been there.

Before she had a chance to say anything, Harry was pulling her up onto the bed and had flipped them over so that Hermione was on her back. It was only as they landed that Hermione noticed he was still rock hard, his cock hanging just above her crotch as Harry loomed over her.

" Oh, we're not done yet," she heard him murmur from above her.

His two strong hands grabbed the edges of her cum-stained jumper and ferociously pulled it up off of her chest. He then dug his fingers into the gaps of her shirt and unceremoniously ripped it apart, sending buttons everywhere and - to Harry's surprise and Hermione's shock - revealing a cow print bra beneath. Hermione blushed prettily as Harry stared down at it, frozen in place. She had almost forgotten she'd put it on today until this point. She honestly didn't think they would get this far.

Hermione about to mumble some excuse about it being the last one she had left, or maybe that it was a joke-gift she'd received from Luna, when she noticed the intensity in Harry's eyes, darkened with arousal, staring right at her. His jump pulsed against her and a bead of pre-cum slithered out of the tip onto her skirt. All of a sudden the cow-print bra seemed like the idea in the world.

It didn't take long for Harry to tear the bra apart too, which only served to turn Hermione on even more. The force of its barbaric destruction made her tits wobbled, sloshing with milk, her nipples stood to attention, begging for release. Without another word, Harry reached down, grabbed a handful and all but bit into her nipple, sucking it dry. Hermione allowed herself to moan like a wanton whore as milk poured her abused tits straight up into her lover's mouth. This special feeling, this ritual that had been denied from her for her own sake... she had missed it so much, more than she could ever imagine. The feeling of relief as the pressure in her titties flowed out of her, the pleasure of his tongue against her bulbous nubs, teasing and prodding for more sustenance.

Speaking of prodding, Hermione was jolted out of her reverie when she felt something round and hard pressing against her panties. She peeked as far as she could over her belly to see it, but she already knew what it was. It could only be the tip of Harry's penis, leaking cum onto the fabric of her cow-print underwear, already soaking wet from her pussy juices. The two teens looked at each, silently asking one another and, in a moment that would bind them together forever, they agreed.

" Please, Harry," Hermione moaned as she snaked a hand down her lump body and towards her entrance.

" Please what, slut?" Harry whispered into her ear, still kneading her titanic tits. He pushed his pelvis forward, sinking the tip of his cock further into her cunt lips, but still barred by the fabric.

" Please, master," she moaned, sliding the fabric aside, "please fuck me."

A shiver ran through her body straight to her cunt as she felt Harry chuckle in her ear before he suddenly pushed forward. She gasped as inch by inch he began sheathing himself inside her pussy and Hermione, who had wanted exactly this for days now, nearly wailed from sheer delight.

" Moo!" she cooed lightly, a soft, delicate sound falling from her lips like an angel's kiss. It just felt so right! Like a piece of herself that she'd always been missing had slotted deliciously into place.

By the time Harry's cock bottomed out inside her, she was panting like bitch in heat. The couple paused for just a moment, allowing themselves to feel this new sensation. Hermione bit her bottom lip, enjoying the fullness of having a nice, hard cock inside of her. Harry revelled in the moist, silky tightness of her cunt encompassing his dick, squeezing him to keep deep inside.

After a few moments of indulging in her love tunnel, Harry withdrew to the tip, only to slam right back in. His shaft pushed up into her cervix and Hermione's mind exploded. She could feel every inch of his fuck meat stretching her greedy pussy, only for him to retreat and push it all back in again. And again and again in a mind melting rhythm that turned her brain into a electric mush of pleasure.

" Oh, fuck me! F-Fuck me, Harry!"

" You like that, bitch?" he grunted, thrusting in and out with a renewed vigour. "You enjoy me fucking your pussy, you dirty slut?"

" Moo! Yes!" she whimpered out on the verge of sobs. "I love it so much! So moooo- much!"

Hermione was losing more composure by the second, with every word that slid out of her lolling mouth. Everything that she ever tried to hide from him over the past few weeks - the true extent of her transformation, physically and mentally – was all being thrown out in the open. The young woman lay beneath the love of her life, moo-ing in delirium as her pussy was filled over and over. Her eyes rolled up into her head and her tongue lolled out of her mouth as her higher thought process buckled under the pleasure and soon all that was left was a happy little cow having finally found her place in the world.

It didn't last long, however, what with both of them being so wound up. She could feel Harry's cock throb inside her, getting ready to pump her full of his cum. The thought only served to excite her even more, she wasn't one birth control anymore. If he were to cum inside her now, he would undoubtedly get her pregnant. And yet, even with the danger, she wanted it with all of her heart. She was ready.

Unfortunately for her, she was met with disappointment as she felt Harry suddenly withdraw, pulling out completely. The cow whined, her cunt feeling so very empty without her master's cock inside it, however she was quickly distracted by the sight of him jerking himself off above her. He grunted, before rope after rope burst from his cock and landed on Hermione's belly, coating her in what felt like litres of cum. Hermione happily lay back, allowing herself to be Harry's canvas, basking in the satisfaction of being his perfect whore.

Hermione knew deep down she wouldn't truly be satisfied until her womb was full with his baby batter, but being covered in his cum was a good-enough substitute for now. In truth, she loved how it gleamed on her pale skin, now covered in a mix of white juices, milk and spunk. It was truly quite a mess. Looks like they were going to have to share a shower after this. Hermione couldn't wait.

For the moment, however, the two were happy to simply lie down together, relaxing in the afterglow. Harry's arm wrapped all the way around her rotund form, pulling her into his lithe form.

" Harry," Hermione whispered, "that was..."

She felt him nod into her hair.

" I know."

Her head came to rest on his chest and she heard his heart beating away, right against her ear. It felt surreal. For years she had wanted this, to just be with Harry, to hold him, to become one with him and here she was now. She had the man of her dreams in her bed, in her soaking cunt. His cum was staining her body, and she could still taste him on her tongue. She was his, finally. Well, except for one thing, one last secret she had been keeping that she couldn't hold in any longer.

" I love you."

Saying those three simple words was by far the bravest thing she'd ever done and for a second she thought it had been a mistake as she heard his heart skip. However, as she looked up into his wide, green eyes and noticed his beaming smile, she knew she'd made the right choice.

" I love you too, Hermione," he chuckled affectionately.

And just like that, Hermione was complete.

The young woman grinned and giggled like a little girl on Christmas. A second later, she was pulled up into a loving kiss, her lips planted fiercely on Harry's in an embrace that was worth all seven long years of waiting.

Once the kiss was broken, Hermione squealed softly and wrapped him in a classic Hermione hug, pulling him into her soft, chubby body. Harry all but fell into her pillow of soft skin and fat.

" Look at you," he marvelled, kissing up her round body with loud, indulgent kisses, "my sexy cow."

His eyes darted up to her face, squinting as he reached a decision, before his hand trailed down to cup her pussy, teasing her meaty lips with his long digits. The sudden intrusion summoned a long, luscious 'moo' from her lips.

" You're mine, now," he growled. "No one else can have you. Only me."

" R-Really?" she gasped hopefully, practically begging him to take her again. "Moo! Thank you... master."

The word came out of her more as an experiment, but once she saw that Harry had no objections – in fact his quickly hardening cock implied the exact opposite – she felt her heart almost fly out of her chest.

Safe to say, both of their lives were about to get a lot more interesting from now on. A lot more pleasurable, certainly. And a lot, lot better.

"Well, I must say Miss Granger, you've been performing exceptionally well recently, especially after last week's test. It's clear to me now that it was just a rough day for you, it's all too common with head-students when they first sign up. It takes a lot to balance work and all your other duties, after all. One of the two is bound to suffer at first and whilst that has certainly happened here, you've done well to catch up and get back on track.

"However, Miss Granger, I can't ignore the changes you've been going through. I would advise seeing Madam Pomfrey for a proper check-up, my dear, but if you're so determined to deal with it yourself, then who am I to judge? As long as it doesn't affect your academic performance, it's not really my place to dictate either way. Just make sure you work hard, like you always do, and you could very well be on the path to another excellent year."

Hermione sat on the far-too-small wooden chair in front of Headmistress McGonagal's desk trying not to fidget as she waited for the old professor to finish up her lecture. She'd been going for five minutes about her performance over the year so far, about the sudden dip in grades she'd seen last week – the one that she;d previously spoken to Harry about. It turned out all that extra studying that Harry had been forced to do had borne fruit: O's on all of her recent assignments, near perfect marks all around.

Upon hearing the news, her spirits lifted into the stratosphere and her heart inflated with anticipation. Her Master would be so pleased with her. So pleased that he would have no choice but to give her a proper reward this time...

Of course, Hermione had spent the last five minutes sitting impatiently listening to McGonagal witter on about grades and scholarships and work ethics, and all the while her brain was filled with ideas of how she should be rewarded for her hard work. Ideas that only served to make her unbearably horny.

"Headmistress?" Hermione spoke suddenly, interrupting the headmistress who fixed her with a stern expression. "I'm sorry, but do you mind if we could wrap this up soon? It's just, well, I have a lot of... studying to do, you see?"

McGonagal sighed, shaking her head.

"Why, yes, of course, Miss Granger," she replied. "I don't need to tell you about the importance of hard work and dedication. I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"Don't worry," Hermione reassured her, "I really am. Harry's been helping me a lot... with so many things..."

"Yes, he really is the best head boy we've had in years. To think that Ron Weasley was chosen as prefect over him, I will never understand."

"Mmm, yeah," Hermione hummed, not really listening. Her mind seemed to blank whenever Ron was brought up nowadays. The best that could muster in response to him nowadays was either apathy or disgust. No, she'd much rather think about Harry, instead, he always managed to brighten up her mood (as well moisten her panties).

The telltale tingle in her tits told her that it was time to leave. Without further ado, Hermione politely excused herself, promised to return for a spot of tea at some point next week and left the grand office as soon as she could.

The eager cow wasted no time in marching to her dorm, back the one person she wanted to see in the whole castle. As walked, she felt her now massive arse and plump tits jiggling and swaying side to side, contained in a very snug but properly-fitting uniform. Her ultra-curvy silhouette was something out of a wet dream and Hermione knew it, which is why she wasn't surprised that she caught plenty of people staring as she went, especially boys. She didn't mind the stares, in fact she took it as a compliment, the way people couldn't stop ogling her sexy, round body.

All along the corridors, the young woman strutted with confidence, shaking her hips as she went, allowing her arse cheeks to clap together with every step and her tits to bounce in her parachute bra. Hermione allowed herself the privilege of showing off the goods to the Hogwarts students, because in the end, it was only teasing. They all knew that they would never lay a finger on her, not when her boyfriend was the man who killed Voldemort.

Speaking of Harry; Hermione and Harry's relationship had also changed dramatically. For one, they were now officially boyfriend and girlfriend, a fact that brought Hermione untold amounts of joy. The couple announced their relationship to the shock of absolutely no one in the castle. It turned out that most people thought they were in a relationship already, after what had happened in war with them on the run together. In a way it was relieving to have something this monumental in their lives go down with nary a care from the general public.

Hermione did, however, receive a very angry letter from Ron when the news broke. Apparently he heard it directly from Ginny, who had been avoiding them recently, sulking in the background. The letter called her all sorts of things, most of them incredibly benign compared to things Hermione called herself in the heat of passion. It mostly detailed how she apparently broke Ron's heart, how she cheated on him (even though they were never in a relationship to begin with) and how he would be happy to forgive her if she publicly broke up with Harry and left Hogwarts to live with Ron in the Burrow as his woman.

Hermione used the parchment as a cum rag that same evening.

There was only one man who Hermione belonged to and it certainly wasn't that gangly, ginger wimp. No, her man was the most powerful wizard in the world, the Man-Who-Won, the one person who she trusted more than anyone else. The only man worthy of her sexy new body and her luscious milk. Her owner, her lover.

No matter how domineering and stern Harry could be – you really didn't want to get on his bad side - deep down there was this unbreakable and undying love that was held between them. It was the reason why Hermione allowed him to own her in the way that did, to humiliate her so and degrade her, to make her his bitch. It was because at the end of day, he loved her and Hermione loved him.

Despite the short walk to her dorm, for Hermione it felt far too long. Then again, she considered every second in between serving her master to be a second too many. She quickly opened the portrait hole and stepped inside, giddy with excitement. It was only as she closed the door and checked herself when she realised that her nipples had begun leaking. Her desire only heightened as she realised that they had likely been leaking the entire journey from McGonagal's office to her dorm. So many people, all of them staring at her milky nipples.

God, she needed some big, smelly cock right now.

"Hermione."

The cow-slut shivered as she heard the voice of the one that she loved so much, Hermione stopped examining her leaky nipples and turned her attention towards the man of her life. Harry, sat on the couch in his school shirt and trousers, was looking at her with a raised brow and his arms crossed over his chest.

"Moo~ Yes, master?" she moaned, her eyes clouded in lust as her nostrils flared, inhaling as much of the manly-scent of her owner as she could.

Her verbal tic had stuck around and was now more prominent than ever, especially when aroused. The two had figured out that it was another part of her transformation, a mental symptom of the Animagus magic. That was the final tip-off for the both of them for what kind of animal she was turning into: a cow. A fat, milk-leaking, horny cow. It wasn't like Hermione didn't already know this, but this confirmed it without a shadow of a doubt. And if Hermione was becoming a cow then Harry was surely her bull, what with his tall, imposing stature and long, thick, smelly horse-cock.

"Were you a good girl today, slut?" he asked her, stepping ever closer to her, looming over her short, curvy figure. Every step brought his bulging crotch closer to her and Hermione tried desperately to resist eyeing it up.

"Moo~ I was~ " Hermione moaned out, writhing slightly as her nostrils flared further, taking in more of that heavy, musky stench of Harry. "I paid attention the entire lesson, answered all my questions right. I even got a 99 on yesterday's homework. O's all around."

"That's very good. Still my sexy little genius."

Hermione positively glowed under his admiration. She loved being his good little girl, she was always well looked-after and always well-rewarded. It satisfied this innate itch in her mind that craved authority, that craved instructions to follow and someone to submit to. To her, having Harry give her commands and be the one to dictate if she was able to be pleasured or rewarded was the best thing to ever happen to her. Just hearing his commanding voice made her knees knock together and caused her meaty loins to burn in need. On the right occasions, when she had earned it, he was always happy to give her what her body so desperately desired.

From the intense gaze he was giving her now, it looked like he was about to do exactly that.

Harry started to undress himself, freeing his muscular torso of his white dress shirt before lowering his rather baggy trousers, showing off his boxer-briefs. In doing so, he exposed the large bulge in his boxers that alluded to Hermione's favourite treat and her eyes locked straight onto the bulge, her pupils expanding as she took a deep and heavy inhale. She could smell the virile musk that he was exuding from his recent Quidditch practice and it was as good as it ever was. It was just the right combination of sweat and arousal that he so often emitted around her, sparking her pleasure centres and winding her up like pheromones to her clouded mind. His cock remained unwashed, of course; that was an honour only she was allowed. It meant that she retained constant access to his unfiltered essence; the stink, the grime, the cum, all of it. All of it hers to savour...

Hermione moaned on the spot as pussy juices squirted into her sodden panties and spurts of milks erupted from her thick, juicy nipples.

"Well, I guess it's time for your reward, missymoo," Harry smirked, calling by her favourite nickname, which made Hermione 'moo' happily. Placing a soft, loving kiss to Hermione's cheek, Harry brought his hand up and ran it through her hair, causing her to lean into the touch.

"I'll let you choose what we do, my sweet little thing," he whispered into her ear, before giving a sweet little nibble on her earlobe that caused her to whimper.

"Moo~" She moaned, her pupils expanding even more as her eyes clouded in lust.

"But first," he whispered, before removing himself entirely from their embrace, "I think you need to get changed."

He stared down at her and smiled mischievously.

"You know what I want," he told her, and Hermione nodded with a wide grin on her face. Oh, they were going to have so much fun!

Without another word needed, Hermione ran to her bed, grabbed a small bag of clothes and scurried into their shared bathroom, all whilst Harry waited in the sitting area. It took her a few minutes to get ready, but she knew it would all be worth it. Once she was dressed, Hermione stared at herself in the bathroom mirror and smiled. There was no way Harry could resist pounding her into submissions once he saw in this outfit.

Shaking from anticipation and sheer arousal, Hermione emerged from the bathroom and sashayed into the living room. She leaned against the doorframe and cleared her throat. Her lover turned in her direction and his cock instantly hardened at the sight of her.

It was without a doubt the sluttiest outfit she had ever worn, one that Hermione had specifically chosen for him. The main pieces were a cup-less bra and thong so meagre that they more resembled thin pieces of fabric than actual clothes. It was a wonder that her bra could even contain the gigantic, milk tanks hanging from Hermione's chest - the lack of cups left her puffy nipples bare and leaking milk onto her belly. Her thong was stretched out so tightly over her wide, chubby hips that her perfectly round, jiggling arse cheeks were left out in the open for anyone to see. The front was so tight that her impossibly fat pussy stuck prominently right through it, the thin elastic having sunk in between her meaty pussy lips.

She might as well have been naked if not for the pair of stockings that pinched her thick, juicy thighs that made him want to grab those trunks of soft fat and pull them apart. These were paired with a couple of elbow-length gloves that covered her arms up over her elbows, granting her just a hint of elegance that contrasted so nicely with the rest of her depraved ensemble.

The one unifying feature of every article of clothing on her body was their black and white cow-print pattern, her favourite pattern. It was a visual reminder of what the potion had changed her into, an acceptance of her true nature as his milk-laden, fat-arsed, big-titted breeding cow. All in all, she looked like a huge, slutty bimbo whore, made for his perverse enjoyment, which was almost exactly what she was and what she forever wanted to be.

"Now that's much better," Harry marvelled as he crooked his finger.

Hermione didn't have to be told twice. She moo'd giddily and began her sultry strut over to his place on the sofa. Every move she made caused her huge, fat tits to jiggle and bounce and she giggled at how they hypnotised him. Blushing up a storm as his eyes slid up and down her radiant body, Hermione found herself standing in front of him, between his sculpted legs, her arms wrapped around his shoulders. A moment later she felt his hands running all over her curves, exploring his property.

Her large, humongous tits pushed tightly against the fabric of her bra, threatening to burst out into his face at every moment. Her nipples twitched with need, as if sensing that his mouth was but inches away. A firm slap to her arse cheeks made her throat emit a submissive little noise and her thighs wobbled from the shockwaves. A moment later his hands moved further south, between her legs to her thick pussy lips bulging between the fabric.

"So gorgeous," she heard him whisper, his breath ragged.

Cow print clothing was Harry's favourite, she noticed. It always managed to provoke his possessive side, regardless of time or place, yet another reason why she liked to wear it so often. Most of her old wardrobe was thrown out and replacing them were many more cow-printed articles of clothing, which she loved to wear. Hats, scarfs, jumpers, knickers, bras, socks, handkerchiefs. She absolutely loved making sure that Harry saw her in these articles of clothing, especially the slutty ones.

Hermione had been much of an exhibitionist before, but now she loved nothing more than to show off her new, sexy, chubby body with humongous breasts that shouldn't even be real. Hermione craved the feeling of Harry's eyes on her body, sizing her up, drinking in her curves, thinking of all the ways to dominate her, to fuck her, to own her. She belonged to Harry now. Her master. Her big breeding bull...

By now, she was sitting on his lap, the bulge of his pants pressing up into her wet core.

"Now, what do you want, my love?" he asked, pulling her into his embrace, squeezing her chubby thighs as they rested on his toned legs.

"Oh, just for my handsome bull to shove his huge stinky cock in my pussy," she replied innocently, one finger to her puffy, dick-sucking lips.

Harry smirked.

"I'm sure that can be arranged."

With one quick swish of his wand, he conjured a mattress on the carpet next to the roaring fireplace. The young man gave her a pointed look and Hermione immediately obeyed. The cow-slut removed herself from his lap and crawled onto the mattress on all fours, making sure to sway her arse from side to side, inviting her stud to mount her. Desperate with desire, Hermione lowered her gloved fingers to her cunt lips that were dripping with need and spread them as far as she could, showing off her greedy pussy.

Well, Harry simply couldn't refuse an offer like that.

Hermione moaned as the mattress dipped behind her, only to whimper as her master positioned himself so that the tip of his cock was brushing against her wet opening. She could swear it felt bigger than before, but she barely had time to ponder it before he began pushing in. In one swift thrust, Harry hilted himself into Hermione, causing her to throw her head back and moo in pleasure.

"Moo! Oh, Harry!"

Harry's only response was a satisfied grunt as he bottomed-out inside her cunt. His cock bulged and throbbed within her, paralysing the young slut with an electric ecstasy that made her see stars.

Her pleasure was only heightened as Harry pulled out only to push right back in, going balls deep once again. And again. And again. Each time he withdrew made her moan as her cunt was emptied, only to be filled to the brim again a second later. His thick, hard cock penetrated her pussy with perfect accuracy, slamming into her g-spot and sparking fireworks in her needy whore brain. And all she could do was take like a good little cow, to lie there, her faced pressed into the mattress with every thrust, her tits spilling out milk onto the sheets like a faulty tap, a fat stupid milk tank whose only purpose was get her fat arse fucked by her bull.

"Please, Harry," she begged, moaning like a porn star, grinding her hips against his. "F-Fuck me with your cock! Moo!" His tip rammed into her cervix, right up against the entrance to her womb and Hermione let out an obscene sound like a cow gone mad on cock. "Urgh! B-Breed me! Breed my stupid cunt, Harry! I'm just a dumb, fat, horny cow that needs your cum! Please give it to me, I want it!"

Hermione instantly felt the effect her words had on him as his cock jumped inside her, pushing against her walls. His fingers laced into her lock, grabbing a tight hold on her hair whilst the other delivered a stinging slap to her arse cheek, eliciting another deranged cry of pleasure. Thoroughly wound up and more horny than ever, Harry increased the speed and force of his thrusts. His cock sunk and squelched in and out, fucking her dripping pussy that gripped tight around his cock - a cock that Hermione could swear had grown bigger since the last time they had fucked like this.

Maybe it was just her cunt shrinking in response to being invaded by his large fuck-meat. Or maybe, her depraved mind imagined, he was moulding her love tunnel into his personal cum receptacle, perfectly shaped for his cock. It was humiliating how much she enjoyed the idea of him changing her into his submissive little fuck-toilet, something to be used and abused daily for his own pleasure. The thought should disgust her, but for some reason only served to turn her on even more.

Probably because she was a filthy cock-slut that lived to serve her hung bull and be knocked up from his potent spunk- God, she was really losing herself now. She could feel the other side of herself taking over, her higher functions were falling into an abyss of animal instinct.

Hermione let them fall. She didn't need them anymore. She only needed one thing, she realised, and Harry was the only one who could give it to her.

"Breed me..." the dumb cow whined with the last few conscious braincells she had left. "Knock me up, master! Fill me up with your smelly cum and get me pregnant! Give me your babies! Make me your fat, pregnant cow!"

With her unhinged encouragement in his ears, Harry put his all into pounding his monster cock into her tight pussy, pushing right up into her cervix with every thrust. Hermione's fat body wobbled and jiggled like waves on a stormy sea; milk sprayed out of her fat nipples, soaking the sheets below her; her arse clapped as his strong hips collided into it again and again. All of this - the sight, sound and feel of his bitch cumming her brains out on his shaft - sent Harry barrelling over the edge with a mighty roar.

His cock came explosively inside her, spraying cum like a firehose. Hermione's brain blanked as she rode out the most intense orgasm of her life. His hand took hold of her arms and pulled her back into him, allowing the head of his dick to push past her cervix and into her unprotected womb. Gallons of cum were pumped straight into her, until Hermione felt like a cum balloon, bloated and full, and she crashed in a second orgasm as her most sacred place was stuffed full with thick baby batter from her master's cock.

The pair came apart, panting and gasping like wild animals. Harry's cock withdrew from her abused cunt with a small pop, unleashing a river of semen that cascaded onto the sheets below, mixing with her own juices. Her master lay down beside her, grabbed hold of her fat rolls and kissed her neck, lavishing her with care as they both wound down. For a few minutes they simply relaxed, snuggling on the mattress, both of their bodies sticky and warm. It allowed Hermione those precious few moments of rest for her mind to recalibrate and try to find some semblance of normal.

When she finally came back to herself, Hermione found that she had only one mood: unbearably horny.

"I hope... that's not all you've got," she breathed in his ear. The air from his throaty chuckle tickled her neck. His fingers gripped deep into her engorged tit, squeezing a thick jet of breastmilk into the air.

"Not by a long shot, you insatiable slut," he growled, snaking his arm underneath her arse and lifting her onto his lap. "You're not leaving here until I've made sure you're carrying my child." Her new seat allowed her feel his rock hard cock returning to full mast, digging up into her exposed cunt and just like that she was ready for round two. Her master gave her arse one last slap and said, "Now ride me, slut."

Hermione lined up his cock with her starving pussy and fell onto him. Her expansive bottom did much to cushion the fall, but the feeling of his shaft spearing into her still made her head go dizzy. All she could was bounce on her fat arse cheeks up and down in a rhythm that sent her entire body jiggling, especially her juicy tits that desperately needed milking.

Harry immediately knew what to do, even without her having to say anything. With his cock buried in her cunt, he grabbed hold and latched his lips onto her bulbous nipple. Within moments he was drinking gulps of milk from her gigantic milk tanks and Hermione shivered. Her inner cow was singing with joy as both her pussy and udders received the attention they were made for from the bull they belonged to.

"That's it," Hermione gasped, pressing his face into her fat tit-flesh. "Moo~ They need to be sucked, they deserve to be put to good use. They'll feed our children one day, Harry... Our beautiful babies... So many babies..."

Her mind wandered for a moment as she imagined herself plump and pregnant, with Harry's arms around her and an infant nestled in her bosom, drinking from her breast. Yes... she could almost feel it. It was so vivid, so... right.

Her hands fell to her belly, bulging with cum, and she blushed.

"God, I hope you've me knocked-up," she said as she bounced on his dick. "I feel like I'm already pregnant with this cum belly you've given me."

"You'd better be," Harry replied, allowing her nipple to leave his mouth for a moment, "or I'll just have to keep fucking you until you are."

The words sent a pleasant tingle down into her womb. She could tell he wanted it, just by the way his cock hardened and inflated in her cunt, throbbing in a way that betrayed his true feelings, but there was still something holding her back, something she needed to know.

"Master, were you serious?" she asked between bounces, revelling in the way his head butted into the entrance of her baby chamber. "About getting me pregnant? Can I please have your baby, master? I want it more than anything else."

His startling green eyes met her pleading brown just long enough to see a twinkle.

"Yes, my love, you may," he smiled, thrusting up into her so hard that her mind exploded as hit each and every pleasure spot. "I'd love for you to carry my child."

"Oh, thank you!" she cried, leaning down over her tits to give him a generous snog. "Thank you!"

"I want to watch you grow big and wide with my offspring," he added, his voice rough and ragged as he continued to thrust up into her, "and after you've given birth, I want to keep knocking you up forever."

"Moo~ " she hummed, "I can't wait to spend the rest of my life as your breeding slut."

In the end, the couple collided into each other, lost in each other's bodies as their slow lovemaking devolved into mindless rutting.

"Gonna keep you big and pregnant forever," Harry groaned between drinks.

"Cum... cum in me..." Hermione mumbled mindlessly, "want pregnant... breed..."

After several more minutes of thrusting, milking, moaning and mind-numbing, primal lust, Harry came inside his cow once more, thoroughly breeding her as to her wishes. Her cunt clenched around his dick as she sent over the edge, her belly inflated and sagging as more and more of his spunk was dumped into her womb. By the end of it, her belly was round and encumbered with his seed that she looked like she was in her first trimester.

She was undoubtedly pregnant by now, she could practically feel his sperm drowning her eggs. It wouldn't be long now before this fat belly of hers would be rounded with something else.

"My strong, sexy bull," she sang as he remained buried deep inside her, plugging her hole to make sure not a single drop escaped.

It was a perfect moment, basking in the afterglow of their baby-making sex. So, of course, they were interrupted by a loud knock on their portrait hole.

"Mmm, don't answer it, Harry," she moaned lazily as she snuggled into his sweaty muscles.

In fact, Harry would have happily ignored it, only the knocks kept coming and quickly became too much of a mood-killer to ignore.

"Hermione?" a muffled voice sounded from the other side of the door, one that the pair recognised all too well. It was Ron Weasley. "Hermione, did you get my letter? Look, just open the door! We need to talk!"

"What the hell is he doing here?" Hermione hissed, incensed that their so-called friend would have the audacity to interrupt her precious breeding time with her bull.

The irate cow stood uneasily her feet, her leg still shaking from her hard fucking not minutes ago, and wobbled her way to the portrait hole.

"Ron," she answered bluntly but made no attempt to open the door.

"Hermione," the redhead's annoying voice shouted back, "let me in right now!"

"No, Ron. What are you doing here?"

"What the hell is going on with you? And where's Harry? I need to speak with him."

"What about?"

"What about-?" he sputtered. "How about why he's suddenly decided to claim my girlfriend as his own?"

Hermione took a deep breath and grit her teeth, insulted that a man other than Harry would ever dare to try and claim her.

"I was never your girlfriend, Ron," she hissed, "and it was my choice to date Harry."

"What?" Ron voice replied faintly. "No, no you're talking nonsense. And what's been going on with you? I've heard you've gotten fat now and you've been acting strange."

Hermione was about to reply with another scathing remark when she felt something large, wet and hard pushing past her folds. It took her a moment before she realised what it was, but before she could tell him no, Harry was already balls-deep inside her. His cock slid into her pussy like a hand into a glove and she suddenly felt so, so full. God, in being distracted by Ron, she'd entirely forgotten how empty she was. And now her favourite fuck meat was back inside her, where it belonged and it felt so... much... better...

No! No, sh-she had to focus. She had to get rid of Ron before he caused even more trouble. Then she could be allowed to enjoy the slow, firm fucking her master was subjecting her too, pushing his firm shaft all the way in, allowing her feel every glorious inch as it-

ARGH! Focus for once, you stupid cow!

"Why are you here R-Ron? Oh!" she whimpered, trying desperately not to give away what was happening to her.

"I'm here because you're my girlfriend and I deserve an explanation!"

"I'm not – nngh – your girlfriend, Ron, how mmm-" she bit her lip to stop herself moo-ing aloud as Harry gave her a deliberate, hard thrust, "many times do I- oh fuck! - do I need to keep telling you?"

"You kissed me during the final battle!"

She could only imagine how much that comment in particular had annoyed Harry. A moment later, her suspicions were confirmed when a loud slap connected with her jiggly ass. It was like he was punishing her for making such a stupid decision, a punishment that she entirely agreed with.

"That was- urgh- a mistake," she grunted through another slap. It was a wonder that Ron couldn't hear them with how loud they were. "I know that now."

There was a moment of silence from behind the door, filled with only the wet clapping of toned muscle on her overweight arse.

"It didn't feel like a mistake," Ron finally said, despair plain in his voice.

"Well, it was, Ron," she replied bluntly. "I don't- ah!- feel that way about you."

All of sudden Hermione was pushed forward by the hips; her tits and belly pressed right up against the door, so that now Harry was fucking her right up against the portrait hole. Hermione cringed at just how much noise they were making, what with her blubbery body colliding into the door with every thrust. There couldn't be more than a few inches of canvas, plaster and paint shielding Ron's ears from the ringing claps of her arse-cheeks and the soft slaps of her tits against her bloated belly. Even Harry's occasional soft gasps as he built up to another ball-busting climax would have travelled far enough.

Ron had to be able to hear them by now, surely? He and Hermione couldn't be more than a foot away from each other. And yet in many ways they couldn't be further apart.

"Look, Hermione," the redhead pleaded, "just open the door and let me in. I know you've missed me. I've missed you a lot."

Despite Ron displaying an uncharacteristic amount of emotion , Hermione really couldn't bring herself to care. No, she was far too preoccupied with how Harry's horse-cock was jamming into her, pressing every one of her buttons and making her want to scream.

It was as she was biting down a moan, trying desperately not to make a sound, when a realisation came to her. Why should she? She was never getting together with Ron, or any other man. Harry was all that mattered now, him and his giant cock that was ruining her insides. She didn't need to keep up appearances, not for Ron of all people.

"Well, I haven't, R-Ron." Hermione bit back, letting out a loud moan that couldn't be interpreted as anything other than a whore in the midst of a good fucking. "Not even a l-little bit."

There was a moment when Ron suddenly went very quiet, before the knocking returned in full force.

"Hermione, let me in right now!" Ron roared. "I swear to Merlin, Harry, if you're-"

"Don't you dare stop!" Hermione demanded at her owner over the cries of her once crush. "Let him learn the hard way. I'm Harry's woman now, Ron, I'm his whore. I was born to be a breeding bitch for Potter cock. He's fucking me right now, right in front of you and I love it. It feels so good. His big, fat, smelly dick is so much better than yours ever was. Unlike you he can last for more than five minutes! Don't you see, Ron? I've found myself a real man now, not a boy who creams his pants just from having his toothpick fiddled with."

With every word, Hermione found herself falling more and more into depravity. She loved admitting these things, especially when Harry was around to hear her and reward with extra hard pounding. She had already just declared her absolute servitude to him, degrading herself to the extreme in the process, but even that wasn't enough, not for Ronald bloody Weasley. No, she really wanted this to hurt. She wanted to twist the knife, to prove Harry's ownership over her once and for all and she knew exactly how to do it.

"I'm..." she paused, allowing herself to savour the sloshing weight in her belly as it squished against the barrier between her and the redhead. "I'm pregnant, Ron. I'm so fucking pregnant. My womb is bursting with Harry's stinky virile cum and I love it. It's what I was made for, being bred by his horse-cock! I can't wait to give birth to Harry's babies over and over again until the day I die. Urrggh!"

At some point in her mad, cum-drunk rambling, Harry had taken his school tie and wrapped it around her neck, holding it in his hand as an impromptu leash. He pulled on it a few times, forcing Hermione to rear her neck and making her guttural moans all the louder.

"Fuck me, Harry!" the cow gurgled. "Fuck me like you own me! Claim me as your cow! Make me your stupid, cum-guzzling whore forever! I'm yours, master!"

With those final words echoing out into their dorm, the couple came for the third time tonight. Harry flooded her insides once again with his powerful spunk, ensuring every part of her cunt would be forever stained with his essence. Hermione mewled through her orgasm, letting herself be as unrestrained as possible, her drooling mouth emitting something that sounded more like an unhinged animal than a human, guttural and raw in its mania. It was the hottest thing that either men within earshot had ever heard.

Just as the two finally rode out their shared climax, a faint, feeble call sounded from the other side of the door..

"Hermione?"

The cow in question, leaning against the doorway, still trying to catch her breath, replied with an icy tone.

"Fuck... off... Ron."

There was a moment where there was no reply, until a few slow, despondent footsteps trudged away, back down the hallway. That was the last they heard of Ron, and Hermione was glad for it.

The young cum-dump turned around, ready to give her master a piece of her mind for that stunt he had just pulled, but Harry was already one step ahead of her. The free end of the school tie acting as her leash was now tied around the base of his shaft, essentially leashing her to his now diamond-hard, cum-dripping, musk-odoured horse-cock.

Suddenly whatever she had to say didn't seem so important anymore. No, she had more pressing matters to attend to. Hermione glanced at her fuck-bull and bit her bottom lip, her pussy already dribbling with exciting. There really was no denying it at this point, she really was just a dumb jizz-slut for his smelly breeding rod. And Hermione couldn't be happier about it.

Wanting to waste no more time, Hermione got down on her knees in front of her master, her cum-bloated belly filling up her lap as she sat, acting a constant reminder of what he had reduced her to. The cum-dump had her tongue hanging out her mouth, ready to serve before he even had to ask. She was going to make sure that every single drop of his breeding batter was inside her, in either one end or the other. It was time to see just how much cum this bulging belly of hers could truly handle.

The echoing sound of a slap, slap, slap filled the bedroom. The windows were opaque from humidity. Their sheets were stained with sweat, milk and cum. They'd been going at it for hours now, but even so, they would never need to stop. The pair of magical lovers could keep fucking for the rest of time if they wanted to and they very much wanted to.

"Moo!"

"Good girl~" Harry grunted, thrusting his hips upwards to meet with the descending Hermione as he gently held onto her sides, digging his palms into the rotund body of his cow. The dim-witted whore moaned incoherently, her tongue lolling out uselessly and her eyes rolled in the back of her head as she continued to make obscene bovine noises that he loved so much. Every bounce set ripples through her body, squeezing against his toned muscles. The bull took a moment to admire his brood-bitch's body, which somehow managed to grow more perfect day by day.

Hermione's body had continued to grow over the months, not nearly as rapidly as those first few weeks, but in slower increments, until now her curves were more extreme than any human's. Her hips were easily wider than her shoulders, with blubbery arse-cheeks the size of large beach balls. Her large tits hang so low that they would cover her entire torso down to her belly button, whilst still maintaining their shape as perfect globes. Her face, whilst certainly less sharp and more chubby than it once was, belonged to a woman a third of her weight, still relatively thin and unquestionably Hermione. She was truly an impossible hourglass shape that defied any sort of anatomical sense, an ultra-curvy, hyper-sexualised, bimbo breeding machine.

All of these things were down to the fact that Hermione had finally completed her Animagus transformation, not into an animal, but into a Holstaur. It turned out there was a reason that the potion she found was in the forbidden section, in that it wasn't an Animagus potion at all. It turns out the 'magical man-animal' wasn't a mistranslation of Animagus, but an entirely different thing, more in line with a creature such as a werewolf or a centaur. In Hermione's case, she had become a human/cow magical hybrid from ancient myth, a close cousin of the Minotaur, except this species was far more docile and still very compatible with humans. This of course, not only explained her new body type but it also explained the many more changes that had occurred.

Perhaps the strangest of all these, Hermione now had a long, furry cow-tail sitting just above her tailbone, coloured with black and white splotches all along its length as well as a thick tip of bushy brown hair, identical to the mane on top of her head. It was very sensitive to touch and Hermione loved it when Harry would softly stroke it. It would often wave around when Hermione was horny or happy – both moods were indistinguishable nowadays - and Harry adored seeing it expressively wriggle and squirm according to her every emotion.

Her ears had sprouted into long floppy ones, also adorned with black and white spots, that were much more adept at picking up sounds from afar. Luckily these were easily hidden in her bushy hair, however whenever she could, Hermione liked to leave them hanging out in the open. She thought they made her look cute, especially when they would flop around and twitch whenever she heard something interesting. Harry thought so too and thought it did take him a while to get used to them, now he wouldn't change them for the world. They too were very soft to touch and very sensitive. Often Hermione liked to rub them both between her fingers whenever she got nervous, which only made her look even more adorable.

Along with these two added features, she had also grown four stubby nipples on her plump tummy, below her belly button where udders would be on a cow, each nub surrounded by faint areola. These nipples were not functional and therefore didn't give any milk, but they were just as receptive to being sucked as the ones on her enormous tits.

Hermione loved her new body, she had accepted that she had been changed by the potion long ago and that there was no turning back now. Even if she were to somehow find a way to lose all of her excess weight, she would still look completely different than she had at the beginning of the year, but even if she could, she didn't want to. To her Holstaur bimbo brain, she was perfect the way she was and Harry couldn't help but agree. She was still the Hermione he had fallen in love with, but all the more to love, in a package that was almost designed to be as sexually evocative as possible. As a young, healthy man with two eyes, a brain and a dick, he was very happy to have his own personal Holstaur whore to fuck at his beck and call.

Just like how he was right now.

Her fat pussy squelched as she impaled herself on his giant womb-breaker, her chubby frame encompassing his lower body, trapping him in an absolutely divine cage of soft flesh. Her hilariously massive tits flopped about as she continued to bounce up and down on his cock, driving herself mad with pleasure. Dribbles of milk escaped her large, puffy nipples with every bounce, inviting him to drink from her endless supply

However, the best thing about her, was not the fact that she was bouncing on his cock with a vigour that he had never seen before, but it was for the fact that her hands were gently stroking a large, gravid belly, sitting between her thighs and resting on his washboard abs.

Yes, Hermione was pregnant with his child, eight months pregnant in fact. Even with her rounder shape, there was no hiding the fact to the world, not even under Hogwarts robes. Her large stomach jutted out from her body, exposing her as a cow bred and owned by her bull. It was yet another curve on her already curvy shape, and yet she looked so natural for Hermione to be pregnant and she carried it with an untold amount of grace. There wasn't a day that went by when she wasn't glowing with happiness, Harry had never seen her so content than when she was cradling her pregnant belly, cooing to her unborn child.

It was only inevitable, with how often they fucked. The pair had made it a habit to rut whenever they wanted; every morning, every night, between classes, in the middle of meals. One time they even found themselves fucking in a broom cupboard, though there wan't much space what with Hermione's plump body taking up most of it. Actually, it was kind of a mystery how she got in there in the first place, considering how it barely fit her inside.

It wasn't just the frequency though, it was how Harry would always cum gallons into her, bloating her belly until it drooped onto her thighs. It was how every time they would conveniently forget to use protection, because deep down they both wanted this. Hermione was always going on about her big strong bull filling her up with smelly cum and claiming her and his own. Harry never corrected her on that front. In fact, he really enjoyed it more than anything. The thought of her walking around school every day, her stomach rounded not only from being pumped full of his cum, but from carrying his offspring, never failed to get him riled up and ready for more. Harry would love nothing more than to have his bitch attend lessons proudly wearing his spunk all over, that is if common decency allowed. They had to retain some form of composure outside of classes, otherwise Hermione would spend every waking moment covered in musky, filthy cum and riding his cock for all it was worth.

Of all their desires, their animal lusts, had led to this. Hermione was due to give birth in a few weeks and they were both very excited. In typical Hermione fashion, she had read up on all about Holstaurs and their mating behaviours. It turned out that Holstaurs were adept breeders, possessing a sex drive on par with rabbits. After finding this out, everything that had happened to her only made all the more sense. The way her hips had widened to epic proportions, her tits that never stopped leaking milk, her addiction to Harry and his cum. It was all preparing her for the Holstaur's natural purpose, to be a baby-factory for her mate. The potion had moulded her into a perfect breeding vessel, one whose sole desire was to give birth to as many children as she could. In fact, A Holstaur was commonly said to be capable of carrying up to six babies in a single litter. Luckily Harry and Hermione were only expecting one for now, but that might change the next time she was pregnant. Because there was really no point in denying that there would absolutely be a next time.

Still, the idea of raising a child was a sobering thought for anyone, never mind a couple of teenagers. However, they were not scared, nor were they even ashamed about becoming parents at such a young age. No, they were confident. Hermione was a very smart girl – whenever she wasn't horny, that is. Horny Hermione and normal Hermione were two very different beasts, quite literally. Whereas normal Hermione was a level-headed, righteous genius, horny Hermione couldn't rub two brain cells together, unless it was to do with getting Harry's cum inside her. This was undoubtedly the Holstaur part of her brain acting up, and the only cure was a regular dosage of Harry's dirty spunk straight from the source.

Luckily, thanks to Harry's side of the family, they had a stable future set out for them. Since Harry took the Lordship of House Potter, he was finally able to have a place to call his own, namely the illustrious Potter Manor. There he had riches beyond belief, not only in his personal vault, but also the Potter Vault. Whilst Harry didn't want to sit back on his family wealth for his entire life, he would certainly need to for now, at least until he could get a job that he actually enjoyed, as well as support Hermione in her research plans. (She was hoping to be the first Lady Potter to earn an award in Magical Research and Innovation, in honour of the late Lily Potter – well, when she wasn't working on birthing and raising a new generation of Potters, that is.)

At the moment Harry was leaning towards becoming a philanthropist as Lord Potter, maybe handling a Quidditch career on the side. However, if that didn't work out, then he was always happy to become a professor here at Hogwarts, or any other Magical school in the world.

A loud 'moo' interrupted his day-dreaming and Harry smiled. Shaking his head away from those thoughts, Harry looked downwards, where he could see his cock, standing tall, thick and proud at a mesmerising nine inches, slick with Hermione's juices. Funnily enough, it was only six inches a few months back, but he had a feeling that Hermione's milk also affected him downstairs – along with every other muscle in his body, since he had gone from a scrawny teen to a young man built like a brick house. Hermione's theory was that the magic of her undiluted Holstaur breastmilk was affecting his body in the same way as hers, transforming him into the perfect mate for a horny Holstaur bitch. That would explain why he had bulked up to such a degree, in all areas, as well as the inhuman amounts of cum stored in his apple-sized testicles. Looks like milk really was good for the body, he laughed to himself, or maybe that was just Hermione's milk. It certainly was delicious.

Licking his lips as he saw her meaty, pregnant pussy engulf his cock down to the very hilt, he gently grabbed hold of one of Hermione's breasts, which were swaying in front of his as her body slumped slightly. Without warning, Harry placed one of those large, puffy nipples into his mouth and started to gently suck on them. He moaned loudly as he drank Hermione's luscious milk straight from the nipple, feeling his body warm up as the magic flowed through him and reinvigorated him.

"Oh, Harry~" Hermione whimpered. She looked down, trying to look as cross as she could, although the massive blush on her cheeks and the fact that her eyes were clouded in lust completely ruined that look. "That's for our baby~ Don't be greedy~"

Mischief danced around in his bottle-green eyes and Harry let the nipple pop free from his mouth.

"I'm sure our baby doesn't mind Daddy having some milk from Mommy," he said, teasingly, "After all, it's still another few weeks before you're due. I can have as much as I want~"

"Moo- greedy bull~" she cooed, managing to roll her eyes.

Hermione slammed downwards one last time, before her vaginal muscles clenched and squeezed around Harry's cock, making him throw his head back and groan as he felt yet another backed up load escape him and flood Hermione's pussy. Her over-stuffed womb flooded to bursting and cum spurted out around the seal of his thick cock.

Using his bulging biceps, Harry lifted his chubby lover and broodmare off of her throne, allowing to lean over and lick the rest of their juices from his cock, polishing his rod with her tongue. Once she was done, she crawled up onto his chest and lay on top of him, thoroughly exhausted from an entire day of love-making.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, just basking in each other's warmth and presence. Harry softly petted the length of her tail, rubbing her ears gently, lulling her into a state of relaxation as she lovingly stroked her tummy. Occasionally she felt a light kicked against her skin and she giggled. Clearly someone was excited to get out of her tummy, as were his two adoring parents. Hermione was so close to falling asleep besides Harry when he said something that made her heart stop.

"Say... isn't our Graduation ceremony starting soon?"

As quick as a flash, Hermione was up and frantically moving around the room, trying to find clothes to put on. She looked particularly frazzled as she did so, her hair was messy once again. Harry had to admit, for a heavily pregnant, chubby woman, Hermione could move with frightening speed at times when she put her mind to it.

"Damn you, Harry! I'm going to be late!" she cried, making a small exclamation of happiness as she found a pair of clean cow-print underwear.

Harry merely rolled his eyes at his bitch.

"It was you who jumped me, anyway, you horny heifer," he reminded her, before getting up himself, using a small rag – which was also cow-printed – to wipe his cock clean off any juices that coated it. He tossed it onto Hermione's bed, where he knew she would sleep with it. It would also help should she get peckish. "It's not my fault you're such a slut that you forget your priorities."

"If I didn't love being your cow, I would slap you for that remark," she said, wiggling around as she tried her best to get into her rather tight cow-print panties.

"Love you too, dear," Harry merely said, before he moved behind Hermione when he noticed that she was looking at her collar. Hermione had begun wearing one attached to a leash every day, disillusioned so no one else would know, except for Harry, who would always be holding the end of the leash. It was a symbolic gesture, one that marked Hermione completely as Harry's property.

Wherever he went, she went. Whenever he wanted her complete attention, all he'd have to do was yank it sharply and she would be his. It reassured her, the constant pressure around her neck, knowing that her master was never far away. And she trusted master more than anyone else in the world.

"One more day and I'm yours forever," she said, before tilting her head back when she felt her bull standing behind her, giving him a loving smooch on the lips. Harry carefully took the collar and fastened it around her neck and immediately Hermione felt herself relax.

"You already are, Missymoo," he whispered into her floppy ear, making her shiver against his body. She could feel his hard cock nestled between her arse-cheeks, digging into her core. Ooh, maybe, just maybe, they had time for one more round of breeding time... just enough to get her off... just so she wasn't distracted...

A hard smack to her arse brought her back to reality.

"Come on, we need to hurry or we'll be late," Harry reminded her, as he left to search for his graduation gown.

"Y-Yes, yes we do," Hermione replied faintly, still recovering her faculties, and I need to find my flashcards."

It took the couple ten minutes to get dressed, tidy themselves up and hurry to the Great Hall, where they arrived just on time. McGonagall nearly subjected them to a stern lecture about their tardiness, however after noticing the seat begin to fill, she chose instead to send them to their places backstage, where they were now waiting for the ceremony to begin. The pair peeked through a gap in the curtain, scanning the rows and rows of seats lined throughout the hall. There were a lot of people here today, most of them parents and siblings, but plenty of students too.

This wasn't exactly helping Hermione's nerves, and was her graduation gown. Nowadays Hermione felt distinctly uncomfortable wearing anything other than cow-print, let alone something as formal as this. It felt wrong, dishonest even. She was a cow, why shouldn't she be allowed to look like one? It simply wasn't fair, in her opinion. Then again, she had to give the house elves who took her measurement some credit, they did an excellent job at tailoring her gown to fit not only her wide, plump body but also to accommodate the little one as well.

Hermione sighed wistfully as she thought about her baby boy, safely nestled in her belly. It wouldn't be long until he was ready to be born (she knew it was a he, Holstaurs were very much in tune with their babies, even during pregnancy). Until then she would have to make do with caressing her drooping belly, reading bedtime stories and picking out cute little baby onesies covered with cow-print.

Better to think about that than about how much she really didn't want to be here, giving a speech to all these people who she barely knew. She would much rather just stay in her room and get fucked by her bull all day. She could be having so much fun, having her pregnant pussy railed by his massive cock, drinking gallons of his tasty cum, letting him devour her magical milk as she sat on his cock. God, it hadn't even been thirty minutes since she was last in his bed and already she was having withdrawals. She really was a horny slut.

Her nerves were getting the better of her, she could tell. With her new ears she could hear almost everything the crowd was saying, even the tiniest of whispers.

"Have you heard about the head girl?"

"Granger? Yeah, I heard she got herself knocked-up?"

"Yeah, man. She's become a huge slut, she's really let herself go."

"Have you heard that she and Potter are getting married?"

"They are?"

"Yeah, I bet that's the reason she got herself pregnant, to try and tie him down."

"Wow, what a bitch."

"I know, dude. I'd still fuck her, though."

"Absolutely! Have you seen those tits? And that ass!"

"Fuck, I'd kill for a ride on that fat bitch's-"

Hermione chose to ignore them in favour of focusing on her bull standing beside her and the grip of the collar around her neck. The reminder helped diminish her anxiety somewhat. Harry owned her now, her master was right here with her, and he would never let anything happen to her. She was safe with master.

"You ready?" he whispered, rubbing circles over her back.

"Moo~" she nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Don't worry about what they think. It just doesn't matter."

"I can't blame them for talking. I have changed quite a bit."

"For the better, Missymoo."

"You have too," she noted, running her hand up and down the muscles of his arm. "You've been so insistent on becoming a bodybuilder. It's not about trying to impress me, is it? Because you don't need to. I love you how you are, just like how you can love me, even though I look like this."

"First of all," he replied, "you have never been sexier."

"Really?"

His answer was reach down and grab a good handful of her arse. Hermione moo'd softly, her smile breaking out into an embarrassed smile.

"You know it," he growled mischievously." Second of all, the reason why I've been lifting so much recently, is because I've been wanting to do something for a while now."

"Oh yeah?" Hermione teased, running her hands up to loop around his neck. "What's that then?"

She squeaked as she felt two hands cup her buttocks and squeeze.

"This."

In one motion, he picked her by the arse and held her against his body, so that they were now face-to-face, which considering her weight was quite the achievement. Her stomach and tits pressed into his rock hard chest and she felt a large bulge poking up into her gown, pressing against her core.

"Look at you," he marvelled as she held on for dear life.. "All mine for the taking."

Hermione gazed into his eyes, trying desperately not to soak her clean panties as her strong bull held her aloft.

"All yours~" she agreed, gnawing at his neck.

Harry kept her there for a few seconds, happy to hold his fat cow up for as long as she wanted, before he set her back down on her own two feet again and patted her head.

"I'm sure that's gonna come in useful at some point," he chuckled.

"I'm sure it is," Hermione smirked. "I'm shocked you're even able to carry me."

"Well, as your husband, I've gotta be able to support you, whatever form that takes." He leaned down and wrapped his arms around her engorged belly. "Hmm. Do you like being my little whore?"

"Little? Moo~ I'm sorry," she said, rubbing her massive arse against his crotch, "would you like to rephrase that?"

Her naughty behaviour was cut short by a vicious slap to the arse.

"Don't talk back to me," her master ordered in a low voice, grabbing a fistful and pulling her back onto his hard cock..

"Moo~" she gasped. "Sorry, master."

"I said, do you like being my big, voluptuous, fat whore," he growled, accentuating each word with another swat to her arse cheeks.

"Moo~ I do, master," she nodded eagerly, wriggling against his large frame. "I really do."

"And do you like how despite being so big and round and heavy," he added as he massaged her stomach, "I could handle like you were as light as a feather?"

"I love it," Hermione moaned softly between shaking breaths. "I love your rippling muscles that could crush me in an instant. So big, so strong. I could get lost in them. I'm so weak and soft compared to you. But I love it, having to do as you say, being nothing more than your cow… My big, strong bull..."

She was getting way too turned on for comfort. If she wasn't careful, her Holstaur side might activate and then they'd really be in trouble.

"To think," Harry pondered, "before the day is done, we'll be married and living together. You'll be my wife."

"I know," Hermione grinned gleefully. "I can't wait."

"But before we do," her master whispered into her ear, "we'll have dinner. I want you to gorge yourself tonight. I want you to eat until you can't fit anymore in your giant stomach, until your clothes can barely fit on your body. I want you nice and plump for when I fuck you. Understand, you gluttonous cow?"

"Yes, master," the horny little cow breathed. "I'll eat so much, I can barely walk. I'll do anything that you want. No matter how depraved, no matter how dirty, I'd do it for you. Ooh, I can't wait for tonight."

She felt Harry's chuckled rumble through her body.

"Don't get too wet now, you'll soak the tiles," he teased, to which she scoffed.

"You can talk. You're going to rip a hole in your trousers with that thing. How are you gonna hide that big fat smelly monster cock, huh?"

"It's all for you, Missymoo," he smiled. "All for you."

Just at that moment, their names were called from the stage. The pair immediately stood up straight and prepared themselves, shaking off their desire. They would have enough time for that later. Now, it was time for them to face the crowd along with the consequences for all their actions.

Everyone was staring at Head Girl Hermione Granger, for all the wrong reasons. Hermione had always wanted people to pay attention to her, to listen to what she had to say, and now her wish had been granted and all she wanted was to be literally anywhere else.

The once prime academic was now obviously, unquestionably, very pregnant. Even in her baggy graduation gown, it was clear that her once lithe and athletic body was round and rotund with the added weight of many months of change. The woman that stood before was a very different one than the one that had saved them from Voldemort and they all knew it. Even she knew it.

Hermione moaned softly, feeling her legs knock together as she felt not only the many eyes of her fellow graduates looking at her, but also the disapproving stares from the Professors seated behind her. Most importantly, however, she could feel Harry's gaze on her massively pregnant body beside her and those eyes, knowing what was going on behind them, all the ways they were going to celebrate their graduation, was enough to pull her through.

Her pussy quivered at the thought.

'Just get the words out, Hermione, and you'll be free to do whatever you want. You'll go home with Harry, get married, eat a ton of amazing food, have lots and lots of raunchy sex- No! Stop it! Focus. Just read the flashcards!'

"It is with great honour," she announced, "that I stand before you today, mmm-my peers, to congratulate each and every one of you."

Hermione blushed faintly in embarrassment as her verbal tic tried to escape her mouth. God, she really didn't want to accidentally show it off here of all places. No one could know she was not a Holstaur, it was why she had disillusioned her collar and her ears before she arrived, why her tail was stuffed up in the back of her gown. She wanted to keep that side of herself as private as possible. Only Harry was allowed to know the true extent of her transformation. She had to keep it under control. She just hoped that the others thought of it as just her stumbling over her words, passing it off as nerves. Yes, that was all. No one suspected the truth.

'Just keep reading, Hermione, and you'll be fine.'

"Mmm-many of you have done so incredibly well this year, even with mmm-many setbacks, and challenges, and you all should be proud of yourself, for not only thriving and adapting, but also for mmm- making Hogwarts proud."

Taking a deep breath, Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, only to snap them open again as she felt a touch on her shoulder, shooting a brief glance over, she couldn't help but give a small smile as she saw Harry standing there, gently encouraging her with his eyes alone. Her tail wriggled in the back of her gown.

Turning to face the crowd once again, she continued with her head held high.

"I truly hope that everyone continues to have the drive to chase after their dreams, so that they can go out into the big wide world and apply what they've learned here to find new opportunities," she said, giving a brief moment of pause to allow a smattering of applause to die down. "I expect great things in your futures. I expect the world frommm- from all of us, the generation that has survived and persisted, even in the face of great adversity. We have prevailed and now it's our time to shine.

"To finish off, I wish to say these parting words; I hope that you find your happiness out there one day and I hope to remember each and every one of you, whether they be for your greatest achievements or your smallest acts of kindness, just as I hope that you all remember moo for-"

Hermione froze. Her heart nearly stopped in her chest. The entire audience fell deadly silent, even the birds outside seemed to have died off. Her stomach dropped into her feet. Maybe they hadn't noticed? Oh god, of course they noticed. She said it with such confidence as well. By the time she realised it had slipped out, it was already too late to stop and now-

Quickly shaking her head, panic rising in her throat.

"I-I'm so sorry," her voice cracked, "What I meant was, I hope that you all remember me a-as a friend, as an ally, and a moo- no, wait, I meant moo! I m-mean me! I mean..."

She trailed off, a fierce blush coating her cheeks and face. Her knees were shaking, trembles were running through her limbs, making her chubby body wobble beneath her gown.

Every eye in the Great Hall, even those that had zoned out in disinterest during her speech, was staring at her now and she felt every single one of them. Usually liked this, showing herself off, but this wasn't good at all. In those instances of walking down the hallways showing off her sexy body, she had control over how she looked, over how much she could show off. This was too much, with too many people.

Her heart raced in her chest, her lungs burned as they cried out for oxygen. Her head began to spin. She didn't know what to do.

Then she felt a firm hand on her shoulder and her world had light again. It was Harry, of course, her master, gazing at her with his soft, calming eyes. Those eyes that radiated absolute confidence in her, that reflected an unshakeable love.

"I think what Hermione was trying to say," he continued in her stead, "is that she wishes you all good luck. And that she hopes you take her example with you, that hard work and dedication and kindness is all you need to make the world a better place.

Looking down, Hermione clenched her fists tightly, furious at herself for panicking in front of all these people and so glad for Harry's help. Even now though, she could see people pointing, laughing at her, those same boys who said they wanted her, now mocking her right to her face. They were making fun of her, of her baby, of her Harry! The side of her that she desperately wanted to keep at bay for the final speech wouldn't be held down any longer. She could no longer hide her true self anymore.

"You're right, Harry," she interjected loudly, to even Harry's surprise. "I do hope they take my example with them into the future. What I meant to say was that I hope every single one of you has a magnificent life, because I'm going to have a great one with this man right here next to me!"

The Great Hall had once again gone deathly quiet, stunned by the passion in her voice, the determination in her eyes. Good, she thought, they need to be reminded that a scorned Hermione Granger is not to be trifled with.

"All these years," she continued, "I really thought grades and good behaviour were all that moo~ mattered. I spent my childhood alone and without friends. And then I met him. My love, my moo~ mate. My Harry. He changed everything. He taught me that it was okay, it was right, to sometimes break the rules, to do what others told me I moo~ shouldn't do.

"And he also taught me exactly what my real purpose was: to be his sexy, loyal, loving cow-slut."

A wave of gasps passed through the audience at her vulgarity.

"That's right, his slut!" she repeated, smiling at their dismay. "I've been getting fucked by Harry every day since the beginning of this year and honestly? It's been amazing. I've finally found my calling and it's whatever he demands of me. I'll be his whore, his cum-slut, his cock-sleeve, his toilet, his wife., whatever he wants because I'm nothing without him."

Deciding to go all out for her last day at Hogwarts, Hermione waved her wand, banishing her stupid graduation gown. In doing so, she exposed her sheer, cow-print underwear, and the body that was barely covered by them, to the entire audience.

Bared to all was a strained cow-print bikini, struggling to contain her massive breasts. Dribbles of milk slowly trickled down over her round pregnant belly, soaking her cow-print bikini bottoms that nearly disappeared into her chubby frame, doing nothing to impede her long, furry tail that stretched out behind her. Cow-print stockings gripped her juicy thighs and her chubby legs, leading down to a pair of white fuck-me heels.

However, the most important item was her special collar - wrapped boldly around her neck, its leash trailing into Harry's trouser pocket - now fully revealed to the rest of the school in all of its glory.

"Moo!" she cried out in a whorish moan, revelling in her natural curves finally being free. "The best part is, even with all of these awful things I'm telling you, even in this ridiculous, lewd outfit, I'm still the smartest person in this room. I have the best grades and the brightest prospects. I could be whoever I wanted to be and I still choose to be Harry's cow-slut, because that's what makes me happiest. That's what you all must do. Follow what makes you happy while you can, because you only have so much time to waste on things that just don't matter.

"I'm going to spend my time getting bred by my handsome bull and having as many of his gorgeous children as I can ~ "

Realising that they had nothing left to hide, Harry smiled, took hold of his end of the leash and wrapped it around his hand.

"Good girl," he whispered, flicking Hermione's ear with his tongue, which caused her to moan out loud. "My slutty cow."

"Me and Harry are going to Potter Moo~ Manor now," Hermione announced, feeling up his crotch with no regard to the audience. "We're going to get moo~ married and spend all night stuffing my womb with cum. I'm going to give birth to all of his babies, as many as my body will allow, and we'll raise them into gorgeous children, as kind, caring and compassionate as their father and as smart, loyal and happy as their mother. And there's nothing anybody can do about it. Moo~"

Harry made sure to take a firm handful of her arse-cheek, squeezing it tight and slapping it, just to make sure that everyone knew exactly who owned her, who had the honour of fucking her delicious rump.

"Let's go home, love," Harry said, before he started walking down off the stage. Through the large crowd of gaping faces staring back at him, he led the soon-to-be Mrs Potter – the first since Lily Potter nee Evans - like the prized cow that she was in all of her knocked-up splendour.

It was a long walk down the aisle and the pair made no effort to hurry along it. Harry allowed each and every member of the audience plenty of time to stare at his whore as she was pulled along by her master. Her attention however was mainly on the girls, who were looking on with differing emotions, mainly ranging from jealousy to curiosity to disgust. Eventually she picked out Ginny's purple face, shaking with rage, and blew her a cheeky kiss. She even spotted a few hard bulges peeking out from the trousers of some students, and even some parents, but none could ever compare to Harry's. She really was the luckiest cow in the world.

The pregnant cow-slut was then yanked out of the Great Hall by her lead, hurrying along after her master, ignoring the outcry that erupted behind them. Hermione paid it no mind. She was ready to start the next chapter of her life with her loving bull. A chapter that was bound to be much more fun that the last, filled with love, joy, sex, cum and little ones to take care of.

Hermione Granger had first arrived at Hogwarts as a child, eager to make a name for herself, and she left Hogwarts a fat, happy cow, ready to birth a large brood of children all her own as Lady Hermione Potter.

A couple of months had passed since Harry and Hermione graduated from Hogwarts and yet the two war-heroes were still headlining newspapers and dominating all corners of conversation. The momentous announcement of their imminent wedding and their display of debauchery was a day that no one present could ever forget. Many were eagerly waiting for the couple's next move, what amazing new stunt they were planning next.

However, neither Harry or Hermione Potter had been spotted out in public since that fateful day. It was almost as if they had disappeared from the face of the Earth, with only the faintest whispers suggesting that they were living in Potter Manor. Not an ounce of news about their plans for the future had slipped through, only wild speculation. This soon became a point of growing controversy amongst the people of Magical Britain.

After all, Harry was the Man-Who-Won and some of the more fanatical population of the Wizarding World demanded his public presence. After the harrowing war against Voldemort, they deemed it his responsibility to prevent another possible rise of a Dark Lord, perhaps one that was stronger than Voldemort – despite the very, very low chances of that happening.

More than a few letters of complaint had been addressed towards the newly-christened couple, begging an explanation for their disappearance, as well as the fact that the new Lady Potter was none other than a muggle-born Holstaur! Each and every one was lost, unable to penetrate the protective wards of the Potter's family estate.

Yet, for one particular family, Harry's absence – and to a lesser extent, Hermione's – was a cause for great personal concern.

That family was the Weasley Family, their concern fuelled more specifically by the matriarch of said family, Molly Weasley, the caring yet overbearing head of the household. After all, something must be wrong if a family friend as close as Harry was not responding to her many letters. She had read in Witch Weekly the other day that he had been brainwashed by Hermione into marrying her, that she had trapped him with her pregnancy. That simply would not do!

It was her growing worriment, her need to know if Harry was alright, that caused her to send her daughter, Ginny Weasley, and daughter in-law, Fleur Weasley nee Delacour - the part-Veela wife of her son, Bill - to find Potter Manor and bring Harry home.

The pair of young women arrived at the esteemed Potter Manor on a brisk Autumn morning and took in the scene in front of them.

It was an impressive manor house - the jewel of the many properties currently in use that belonged to the Potter estate. (They were a very rich and revered family, after all, especially now that the Lord of the household was none other than the Harry Potter.) It stood like a palace amidst wide stretching lawns and forests, thousands of acres of untouched natural beauty as far as the eye could see, sparkling in the misty Autumn morning.

"So, this is it?" Fleur spoke briskly, curling her silvery-blonde hair back behind her ear. Her English had improved drastically since the last time she was in England, her French accent was not as heavy as it used to be.

"I think so?" Ginny said, tearing her gaze away from the manor nearby. "It's where the address supposedly leads. It can't be anywhere else. They'd better let us in after all of this. I'm not leaving until I see Harry for myself."

For Ginny, this mission was entirely personal, for two reasons. One, Harry was her boyfriend – well, ex-boyfriend – and he owed her for how long he made her wait. All those months she waited for him while he was off galavanting around the country with her brother, only to return to Hogwarts and almost completely ignore her! It was simply outrageous in Ginny's mind! No man had ever treated her with such blatant disrespect. And yet despite that anger, she would take him back in a heartbeat, even if he had married the wrong woman.

As much as this mission was about Harry, Ginny couldn't help but be reminded of her once-good-friend, Hermione. Since Harry's and Hermione's relationship became public knowledge, Ginny's jealousy had grown to the point where it was now the main driving force to complete this task. That and the chance to lure Harry away from that slut Granger.

The fact that Hermione had turned herself into a Holstaur was no secret to anyone, in fact Ginny was there in the crowd the day they announced their marriage. She saw first-hand just what Hermione had become, the lengths she obviously had gone to just to seduce Harry. Well, Ginny seethed, Harry's real true love was coming to save him. She would use her own womanly charms to steal him right back and bring him home to the Burrow where he truly belonged.

Fleur merely rolled her eyes at her sister-in-law's stubbornness.

Truthfully, she didn't really like Ginny all that much to begin with, nor did she think this mission was worth her time. However, her hand was twisted when Molly all-but forced her to go, insisting that, because Fleur was quarter-Veela, her allure would give them an 'advantage' in convincing Harry to return to the public again.

Let it be known that little tidbit really ruffled her feathers. She didn't want to just go on a task just because of her ability to ensnare males with her allure and charm. Hell, she wasn't even sure if Harry would be affected by her allure. From what she could remember from the Triwizard Tournament, he didn't seem at all affected by it and if he could resist it as a hormonal teenager, what chance would it have now? There were even rumours he could resist the Imperius curse at that age!

However, Molly saw it best that she go along and Fleur had been in enough arguments with that woman to know that any attempt to change her mind was a lost cause.

"Come on, let us proceed," she beckoned urgently. "It's much too cold." Being a quarter-Veela, and a Frenchwoman, Fleur wasn't exactly a fan of cold climates.

Ginny nodded and followed a few paces behind Fleur, who marched towards the gates. As she walked, her eyes locked onto the manor before them and glazed over as her imagination ran wild with endless possibilities, all of them revolving around one person; Harry Potter.

What did he look like? What was he doing now? Did he still love her? Would he be up for some nice, rough sex as an apology for running away with Hermione?

Suddenly, they both shivered as they passed through an invisible barrier. A barrier that identified their magical signature – the highest form of security charms – to alert the wards to who was arriving, and detect whether they were under a disguise such as Polyjuice Potion.

Moments later, the large gates swung open, inviting them inside. Evidently, they had passed the test.

What they didn't know, as the pair made their way through the gates and towards the Manor's entrance, was that neither of them would be leaving Potter Manor again… or, at least, not the same as they were now.

From the moment Ginny and Fleur entered the extravagant manor house, the two girls were met with a surprise.

Every wall was decorated with the richest of furniture, the walls bathed in a deep, floral, burgundy pattern, with accents of gold gleaming in the sunshine that flooded in from an ornate skylight. Two sets of winding marble steps arched to their sides, leading lazily up to the upper landing. The scene before them looked more like a ballroom than a lobby and immediately the two women felt small and out of place.

At the end of the grand entrance hall, hanging proudly from one of the far walls, was a large portrait, displayed in such a way that it was impossible to miss. Its subjects, the cause for the girls' wide-eyed stares, were the new Lord and Lady Potter, sitting entwined on a loveseat, with broad smiles.

Hermione Potter's wide, curvaceous body was comfortably contained in a royal blue, velvet dressing gown big enough to be a tablecloth, her fluffy black and white tail poking up from behind her. A white satin choker with a small bell was wrapped around her neck and on her head rested a small hairpin in the shape of a lily, complementing her floppy ears nestled in between the locks of her hair. Her titanic breasts pushed against the fabric of her gown, showing off an impossible amount of cleavage. The plush flesh of her arse and thighs were squished into the seat, bulging at the sides and up against the body of her husband.

Speaking of which, Lord Harry Potter sat close beside her in a regal set of emerald green robes, one arm wrapped possessively around her thick body. One hand was resting intimately on his wife's thigh, gently squeezing as if to remind the viewer exactly who Hermione's master was.

However, that wasn't all, because, to Ginny's horror, nestled comfortably in the arms of Hermione Potter nee Granger, was a baby boy, roughly a few weeks old if they had to guess. His head of brown, bushy hair and his pair of bright green eyes meant there were no doubts as to who his parents were.

Fleur could practically hear Ginny's teeth grinding against each other. She was amazed that they didn't chip from the pressure.

The youngest Weasley looked on with fury, her heart hammered within her chest as she silently cursed Hermione to oblivion. It was meant to be her child in that portrait, not that... slut's !

Yet, as Ginny struggled to contain herself from destroying the Potter's family portrait, Fleur's reaction was vastly different.

A serene smile rested upon her face as she gazed at the beautiful baby boy. Her hand instinctively fell to her stomach, settling just above her womb. A sensation of intense longing formed within her.

Ever since she and Bill settled down, Fleur had wanted to have a child of her own, but what with the war going on, what with the cloud Voldemort's terror hanging above their heads, there was never a good opportunity.

Now, however, thanks to Harry and Hermione, Voldemort was dead and the Magical World was at peace. They could all finally get on with their lives and Fleur hoped that it would finally be the time to try for a child with her husband. She had pestered Bill again and again about when he would finally allow her to get pregnant, to fulfil a dream that she had harboured since she was a little girl...

Alas, even now, it was not to be. Bill had been called in for a mission overseas, just last week, to work in Egypt as a Curse Breaker. A lucky excuse for Bill to continue to ignore her. Fleur knew, once this 'mission' was over, she would have nothing left but to return to an empty Shell Cottage, nothing to do but wait for her husband to come home. And then probably spend years waiting for a child that would never come...

But now was not the time to dwell on things like children and empty houses. They had a job to do and it wasn't going to get done by standing around and staring at paintings.

Fleur placed a hand upon Ginny's shoulder, and gave it a small squeeze.

"Ginny," she said rather sternly, "calm yourself."

Ginny finally tore her attention away from the portrait, before her eyes went towards Fleur, and whilst she didn't say anything, she did nod her head ever so slightly.

"Sorry…" she said bitterly, hoping beyond hope that she wouldn't have to come face-to-face with Hermione again, for the sake of her temper.

Soon after, they were met by a proud house-elf in uniform. The elf escorted them to a set of double doors that opened to reveal a cavernous sitting room, as well as the man standing in the middle of it.

"Ah, Ginny, Fleur! It's lovely to see you both again," Harry boomed at the two women as they were led to the luxurious lounges.

' Merde-' Fleur thought to herself, struggling to keep her jaw from dropping as she took in the sight of the new and very-much-improved Harry Potter.

Harry had changed drastically in the last few months, even more so than he had during his last year at Hogwarts. He now stood at a striking 6'7", easily towering over the two women. His muscles were like that of a bodybuilder, stretched his crimson bathrobe at the seams, beneath which he wore some thin pyjamas and slippers. His face, once thin and troubled, had filled out with colour and warmth, his jaw wide and square. Were it not for the round spectacles resting on his nose and lack of a red cape, one could be forgiven for thinking they were seeing Superman himself in the flesh.

' He definitely couldn't qualify as a Seeker anymore!' Ginny thought, trying not to wet her panties from sheer lust.

However, for all that had changed since they last saw him, just as much that was uniquely-Harry had remained. His unruly hair that refused to sit even on his head; the telltale scar on his forehead, faded but still prevalent; and a kind, lopsided smile that was noticeably carefree now that Voldemort wasn't nipping at his heels. The man in front of them was still unequivocally Harry Potter but now with a body that would make a Greek god feel inadequate.

Ginny whimpered as she drank in the sight of her crush, now even more sexy than in her wildest, most inappropriate dreams. Instinctively, as she felt Harry's eyes settle on her, she couldn't help but flutter her eyelashes at him. Even the Veela beside her, very much used to human sexuality in all of its forms, was beginning to feel overwhelmed.

And then they looked down. There, even under layers of clothing, was a conspicuous bulge, not big enough to be anything else but still far bigger than either of them had ever seen on a man. They could only imagine its size when exposed to the open air and just the thought made both women want to squirm. Not only that, but the smell. It was a pungent aroma, an overpowering, musky scent that tainted the air like a thick soup. The women had no choice but to breathe it in, ingesting the Lord Potter's cock smell like cologne. Fleur could feel her Veela instincts screaming at her, responding to the scent of an alpha invading her mind. Despite the attack on her senses, she had to push it down, ignore it for now. Besides, it wasn't exactly an awful smell... it was actually quite pleasant, it's own weird way...

"H-hello, Harry!" Fleur managed to squeak, a hint of a flush on her cheeks as she took in the man standing before them.

One thing was for sure, he was anything but a 'leetle boy ' any more.

"Hi, Harry," Ginny breathed, her voice was dripping with desire as her eyes darkened.

Harry chuckled lightly, seemingly unaware of the effect his new looks had on the pair.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Harry said, offering the girls the empty sofa opposite him. "Please, have a seat. Hermione will be here soon with tea and biscuits."

Ginny's smile faltered at Hermione's name, however, she quelled her rising jealousy. She absently fell into a seat, still distracted by the hunk in front of her.

Fleur, meanwhile, shook her head at Ginny's lack of manners and took her spot on the lounge with ladylike poise. As her papa always said during her countless lessons as a young girl; 'Show the utmost of respect towards your host and always display fine etiquette, lest you be thought of as rude.'

Knowing that it was up to her to put their best foot forward, Fleur politely cleared her throat.

"Well, Harry, this has to do with your... disappearance, shall we call it?" Fleur said, unsure of how to dance around this topic without seeming too intrusive. "Everyone is concerned for you. Your choice to step away from the public stage has caused quite a controversy amongst the Ministry."

"What doesn't nowadays?" Harry scoffed. "I scarcely breathe the wrong way and the Ministry tears itself apart."

"Even so, the people want their hero back, they need to know you're alright, that you'll be there should another we need you."

Harry chuckled as he leaned back, unconsciously flexing his bulking muscles that looked like they could crush steel pipes with ease.

"A touching sentiment, really, but I'd rather remain here for now."

"Oh? And why is that?" Ginny asked, leaning towards him and 'accidentally' showing off her cleavage.

Whilst obviously she couldn't hope to compare to Hermione's current state, Ginny was buoyed by past experience. She wasn't a buxom, curvy witch like Lavender or Susan, but she was still drop-dead sexy, as proven by the way the boys would stare at her in Quidditch uniform. It wasn't about how much you had, she reasoned, it was how you used it. And Ginny absolutely knew how to use what she had to her advantage.

Harry's eyes lingered upon Ginny's chest for but a few moments, merely appreciating her form but in those few moments Ginny preened and mentally cheered from her win. It wouldn't be long now before he forgot all about that fat cow and realised his mistake.

"Well, think of it this way," Harry continued, "I already draw enough attention as it is, what with the whole 'Man-Who-Won' crap going around. If I were to suddenly reappear looking like this…" He casually gestured to his godlike form. "I know I'm not the boy I used to be. I can't help but stand out. No, better to stay here where I won't bother anyone."

"I happen to think it's a very nice body," Fleur replied, trying her best smile. "In fact," she added, glancing momentarily at Ginny as if to say 'watch this', "I think you've never looked better."

As she spoke, Fleur allowed a fraction of her allure to flow out of her, directed at the young Lord Potter. She fixed his eyes with a penetrating stare as she did so, in order to properly transfix him. This technique had brought her great success in the past, it was enough to render the typical male helpless against her will. Hopefully it would be enough to influence Harry, to sway his subconscious thoughts, but not enough for him to notice anything. The last thing she needed was to let him catch on too early.

"I never did thank you for killing Voldemort, did I?" she whispered sensually, her eyelids low and sly. "You've done so much for us all. We only want to know that you're alright, if there's any way we could... reward you for all your hard work."

However, something unexpected happened. Harry, whilst looking directly into her eyes, matching her stare, squinted. Fleur blinked in surprise. That wasn't supposed to happen. It may not seem like much to the untrained eye, but that squint meant everything to Fleur. It meant that Harry was still perfectly conscious and worse, he was suspicious .

Immediately Fleur withdrew her allure, sitting up to her full height

"But then it is your choice," she shrugged.

"I'm aware," Harry replied, his voice hard.

The two young women glanced at each other. Clearly this wasn't going to plan.

Fleur was about to continue, to attempt to repair the damage, when their chat was interrupted as the sitting room door opened and in walked Hermione Potter.

At the sight of her, Ginny nearly choked on her own breath. Fleur blushed prettily and quickly averted her gaze, her eyes as wide as saucers. The two girls looked down at the floor, thoroughly stunned, as Hermione hummed and strode towards them, as merry as ever.

Their shock was for good reason because the Lady Potter wasn't exactly wearing... suitable clothing, for any sort of civilised company. In fact, calling her attire 'clothing' would be very generous.

The one piece that could be considered appropriate for her status was a glittering tiara nestled atop her head of bushy hair. The rest would make a burlesque dancer blush. Only a thin piece of fabric held her massive, leaking tits to her chest, two gigantic orbs of flesh as big as small yoga balls that sloshed and jiggled wildly with every step. A frilly slither of a maid's skirt hung above a pair of cow-print panties that hugged her wide figure, which had only seemed to grow curvier since her graduation, with her hips now twice as wide as her shoulders and a plump roll of fat wrapped around her middle like a rubber ring. Cow-print stockings, along with cow-print elbow gloves, wrapped her cubby limbs and her neck was adorned with her signature white collar, on which hung a small, silver cowbell that tinkled a light pleasing sound as she approached.

This scandalous attire had the added side effect of allowing the girls to see the extent of Hermione's Holstaur transformation up-close. Ginny had seen it once before from afar and Fleur had heard plenty of rumours, but seeing it in person was something else entirely. Her fluffy, floppy cow ears that twitched expressively in the tresses of her hair; her long, furry cow tail that moved with her body like it had always been there; the four perky nipples on her belly, peeking just underneath her sheer 'skirt'. All of it was proof that the former-Granger hadn't just let herself go, she had become an entirely different being, something that exuded raw sexuality, that bathed in maternity.

As if to complete the undignified display that was Hermione's outfit, a sling was wrapped around her upper body, holding what looked like a small lump to her tit. As she wobbled nearer, carrying her tray with staggering balance, the girls could make out a head of curly, chocolate brown hair belonging to a baby boy, who they noticed was noisily suckling sweet milk from his mother's bulbous nipple.

"Here you go~" Hermione cooed, gently placing the tray down on the table, which held three cups of tea and a handful of biscuits to snack on. "Sorry it took so long."

"Thank you, honey," Harry beckoned his wife closer and she was rewarded with a soft kiss to the cheek, which made her giggle and 'moo' merrily. "Ginny, Fleur, I'm sure you know my gorgeous wife, Hermione Potter, but I would also like you to meet the newest addition, James Potter II, my baby boy."

He nodded towards the small infant in Hermione's sling, gazing at him with overwhelming pride.

"How is he today, my love?"

"Moo~ Very hungry, apparently," Hermione giggled, stroking James' small head as he continued gulping down on her endless supply of tasty milk. "Oh, don't forget about the other one, Master~"

Harry shook his head and gave a playful sigh.

"Of course. How could I, Missymoo?" He placed his hand upon Hermione's chubby stomach, his voice bright with excitement. "We haven't told anyone yet, we only found out a couple of days ago, but Hermione here is currently pregnant with our second child. Just a few weeks along."

Ginny tried her best to smile at the crushing news. "That's… wonderful…"

Thoroughly unimpressed by her performance, Fleur casually sipped her tea.

"I'm surprised you're fit enough for it," she commented brightly. "Surely it hasn't been that long since James was born?"

Harry and Hermione glanced at each with knowing smiles and the Lady Potter's face reddened.

"Well, since my... recent changes, giving birth hasn't been much of a problem for me. I think it's something to do with Holstaur magic," she added, switching to her studious mode. "They are historically known as excellent breeders so it makes sense that the birthing process isn't as traumatic as it is with other species like humans. In fact I'd go so far to say that it's... well, it's very pleasurable, shall we say?"

"Which is good news for us," Harry grinned, giving her arse a quick pinch, to which Hermione gave a very uncharacteristic squeal, "because we're planning to have as many children as will fit in this house."

"Really?" Ginny asked faintly.

"Really," Hermione nodded gleefully. "I don't know which one of us is more excited about it. All those little ones to take care of."

"Plenty of sleepless nights too, I imagine," Fleur joked.

"Well, we have the house-elves to help us there," Harry explained, taking his wife's gloved hand in his own. "Besides, I'm a restless sleeper myself. I don't mind it too much. It means I get to spend time with my son, just me and him. It's Hermione who needs her sleep."

"It's not my fault you and James tire me out so often," Hermione grumbled cutely, which caused Harry to chuckle.

"You hear that, lad? You wanna give your Mummy a break?"

James stopped sucking on Hermione's thick nipple to babble incoherently in response. Harry smiled and picked the baby up out of his sling to hold him to his chest.

"There you are," he whispered. "Remember me? Dada?"

The baby blinked up at his daddy, his young eyes taking in the sight for a moment, but he soon became distracted with chewing a button on Harry's dressing gown. The infant's father shook his head fondly and began gently rocking his son in his arms.

"Nevermind. We'll get there eventually."

"So, why are you girls here?" Hermione asked.

Ginny looked taken aback, thoroughly shaken by all that she had just seen and heard.

"Oh, umm-"

"We just wanted to speak to Harry about certain things," Fleur spoke for her, sending her sister-in-law a quick glance, "but it looks like you've got plenty to be getting on with here, so we'll just be-"

"Oh~ You two must stay here for a while, as our guests!" Hermione offered before they had the chance to rise from their seats. "We'd love to have you for a week or two. It gets quite lonely around here, just me and the boys."

"Oi," Harry sounded to which Hermione rolled her eyes.

"We haven't had many people to visit," she added, her eyes big and pleading. "Please, it would be our pleasure."

Fleur glanced between the man of the house and his wife, trying to think of a reason to not get involved.

"Uhm..." she said awkwardly, unsure of how to answer

"That's a good idea," Harry said, patting his wife's bottom as if to congratulate her. "Stay for a while. We have plenty of room and it'll be good for James to meet new people."

Judging by the looks on Harry and Hermione's faces, they seemed to have already made their mind up for the pair of them.

Fleur sighed, finding no way to politely deny their hospitality.

"I don't see why not."

Ginny looked at Fleur like she had grown a second head.

"Ginny?" Harry called. His voice made the young redhead jump in her seat. "How about you?"

The girl in question quivered lightly – not just from nerves, but arousal – as she turned to face Harry.

"Y-yes. Yes, of course."

"Excellent!" he beamed. "We'll get you guys sorted out in one of the guest rooms. Mipsy! Could you please make up the guest bedrooms? Preferably ones not too close to James' room. Don't want to disturb you two."

The rest of their talk was about trivial things, far more suited for a round of tea and biscuits, as the two guests were told about all the things that had happened since they last spoke. All the while Fleur politely listened and nodded accordingly, trying not to roll her eyes at Ginny's obvious attempts not to cry every time James made a noise. It would be a miracle if the girl survived to the end of the week.

That evening, Harry Potter stood on the balcony of the master bedroom that overlooked the gardens out back, enjoying the last warm rays of the setting sun upon his body. His eyes gazed across the grounds, where he saw a few House Elves happily trimming the garden hedges to keep it neat and tidy. He sighed, closing his eyes and allowing the skin of his broad chest to feel the light cold breeze, lulling him into a meditative state.

Today had been a relaxed affair, mostly consisting of the elves setting their guests up with their own rooms whilst they walked around the grounds admiring the many sights it had to offer. The Potter ancestral land was a haven for many magical oddities, such as its own ancient forest full of creatures big and small; a greenhouse bursting with endangered flora; a fountain with statues of Harry's ancestor, such as his many-times-great-grandfather, the Wise Erasmus Potter; the stables, a relatively new addition, filled with livestock; a lake that was home to many ducks that could teleport and change colours; and, perhaps most amazing of all, a field of grazing unicorns.

It was safe to say the girls were enamoured with the place. They had heard all sorts of stories about the majesty of the Potter family home, but actually seeing it in person was an entirely different experience. Hermione was only happy to educate them about everything they saw, including the deep and varied history behind how they came to reside here. Harry meanwhile was satisfied in watching his wife rattle on about the topic, remembering time and time again just how much he loved his adorable heifer.

The conversations continued into dinner, where Fleur was perfectly happy to engage as they ate a specially-made three course meal inspired by the cuisine of her homeland – a gesture that she very much appreciated considering how long it had been since she had indulged in some well-cooked French food. At some point the discussion turned towards the manor house itself, which reminded Fleur of those that she had seen in France, including Chateau Delacour. Clearly Fleur was used to living in a manor, traversing its halls with a practised grace and dignity. She even gave them tips on how to liven up the place, specifically how to modernise certain areas that had fallen behind the rest of the Wizarding world in its long period of abandonment.

Whilst one Weasley woman seemed to flourish in her new environment, the other seemed entirely uncomfortable. Even Harry had been forced to notice how off Ginny had been acting all day. Unlike her usually boisterous, outgoing personality, the young redhead had kept to herself, sending him strange looks when she thought he wasn't looking. She had avoided James like the plague, refusing to acknowledge his existence, unlike Fleur who took every chance to fuss over the infant boy.

Harry didn't think too much of it, though. She was probably just overwhelmed by it all. It was easy to be thrown off-balance in a new place, especially in a house as grand and awe-inspiring as this. She would get used to it soon enough. Hell, it took him and Hermione a while to get used to living in such a big house – it was certainly a far cry from his cramped room in Privet Drive – but now that they had, they couldn't imagine ever going back. They were never a couple to indulge in many luxuries, but even they had been seduced by the luscious lifestyle afforded to them. Harry couldn't wait to spend the rest of his life living in a palace of their own with the love of his life by his side and in his bed.

The young lord thought back to his lady, reaching out into the wards to find her. A moment later, he sensed her presence in the nursery, along with his son, and he smiled. Hermione was most likely putting James down for an early bedtime, which usually included a lot of feeding, a bedtime story, a change of his nappy and some cuddling, all things that came naturally to her. When she said that Holstaurs had a natural affinity to parenthood, he didn't expect it to be this sophisticated. It allowed her some unnatural ability to tend for her child, to cater to his needs, an ability that she had imparted onto him through their bond. It also meant that she knew before anyone else that she was expecting again, even before the diagnostic spell, like some sixth sense.

The day Harry found out Hermione was pregnant for a second time was the one of the happiest of his life. Of course, he hadn't expected it to happen so soon, then again he had been pumping copious amounts of cum into her days for on-end. It was obvious that it would happen eventually. That cow was simply incorrigible. She didn't consider her day complete until she had his cock inside of her, filling her up with spunk, and was adamant on making sure he provided, which he was always very happy to do. Harry hardly needed to wash his cock anymore, not when he had a toilet whore all his own to use, ready at any moment to clean it with her soft tongue and plump bimbo lips.

And now he was hard again. Great. Just great. Of course, the most annoying part was that he would have to wait here until he calmed down before going to say goodnight to each of his guests. He really didn't want to walk in on them with his cock sticking out of his pyjamas.

That reminded him, he and Hermione really had to be more careful with how often they had sex now that Ginny and Fleur were around. They'd probably have to get into the habit of putting extra silencing charms on their walls, as well as extra locking charms for good measure. That, and probably no more having Hermione crawl around the manor on a leash either. As much fun as that was, and it was a lot of fun for the both of them, it simply was not appropriate for a more civilised company.

Still, the maid outfit from this morning was an inspired choice on his part. He had Hermione wear it mostly to get the girls acclimatised to how his Holstaur wife liked to dress, as little as possible. Yes, as scandalous as it sounded, the newest Lady Potter preferred to spend her time naked, as her skin and nipples were particularly sensitive to fabric. The only clothes she happily wore were made of the finest silk and charmed to be water absorbent.

Funnily enough, it could have been much, much worse for the girls. That maid outfit wasn't even the most outrageous costume Hermione owned. That had to go to her wedding dress, which was so lewd, so slutty, so ungodly sexy that it had been thoroughly torn apart. Harry had to take slow, deep breaths just to stop himself from getting even harder just thinking about it.

A sudden knock provided a welcome distraction from his... state.

"Harry?"

Opening his eyes, Harry turned and saw none other than Ginny standing in the doorway to his bedroom, fidgeting rather nervously. Of course, he realised, it was only inevitable that she would want to talk to him alone. They never really talked about their relationship after the war, for all he knew she might not even be over him. A part of him had wanted to avoid this conversation if he could, but still, he was a Lord now. It was up to him to face his problems head-on and, most of all, he had to be polite.

However, the more he studied Ginny's appearance, the more something seemed... off. She was wearing a fluffy white towel bathrobe, but her hair was dry so she hadn't been in the shower recently. Was she just wearing it as a dressing gown? No, she wasn't wearing any pyjamas, as far as he could see. And she was also wearing heels which was very odd. Why would she be wearing heels in the bathroom?

"Ginny, how can I help?" he asked cautiously. He had no idea what on Earth was going on, but he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, she might really need his help. What kind of host would he be if he denied his help to a guest?

"Can... Can I talk to you?" she whispered as she carefully closed the bedroom door, edging closer to him with every tentative step against the carpet.

"About?" he asked, his voice aloof but his suspicions rising every second.

Ginny blushed to the roots of her hair. She wrung her hands together nervously. She was never usually this anxious when it came to men, but something about Harry made her this way.

"I… I was wondering..." she said, her voice trailing off to a murmur before she summoned some Gryffindor courage, "if you would help me… it's just… something about my bedroom?"

Harry let out a small breath of relief.

"Absolutely," he smiled, "what do you need? Is it the bedding? I can call Mipsy for some-"

"N- No!" Ginny interrupted, her shy smile slowly morphing into a sly grin. "This is something only youcan help me with, Harry."

Ginny took a few deliberate steps towards him, right into his personal space. Harry stood up straight, backing up against the balcony, as she pressed herself into his bare chest. He could make out the shape of her perky breasts through her bathrobe.

"My bed is so very big," she breathed, "and rather… empty."

Her delicate fingers danced across his shoulders and she smiled as she felt him tense up.

"I don't know how I can fix that," Harry spoke in a low voice, his body still like a statue.

Ginny scraped her fingernails gently across his chest, teasing his bulging muscles, whilst her other hand travelled lower, down towards his crotch.

"I'm sure we can find a solution…" she whispered in her most sultry tone.

She leaned forward and breathed in, taking in a nice long whiff of his musk wafting up from his gargantuan cock. It truly was a lovely scent, one she could easily allow herself to get addicted to once she had him wrapped around her finger. It was just so erotic, so manly...

Ginny could almost hear his tense muscles grinding together like granite. She was loving how hard he was having to resist touching her shapely body, at least that's what was happening in her mind. As far as she was concerned, she had him in her grasp.

With those lusciously tempting words breathed into his skin, Ginny turned to leave, swaying her lithe hips as she walked, thinking he might appreciate the view. It was a classic tactic of hers, to always leave them wanting more.

"You know where to find me, stud~"

Leaving him with that last invitation, she left Harry alone in the master bedroom, very pleased with herself.

Harry, meanwhile, was still reeling, silently gripping the railing as if he might suddenly float away. It took him a good minute before his thoughts caught up with him, with one in particular taking a distant first place.

'What the hell was that? Did she just try to seduce me?'

No, surely not, that wasn't like Ginny at all. He must have remembered it all wrong, being as horny as he was. He could only have imagined her cupping his balls and smelling his musk like it was a foreign delicacy or the way she beckoned him to her bedchambers with a voice dripping with sin. Surely not…

Something was clearly amiss, even Harry could figure that out. He might not be as smart as Hermione or even the most knowledgeable when it came to the ways of women but even he knew that was not appropriate behaviour towards a married man. Alarm bells were ringing in his head, thoughts clashing and clanging and ringing out.

'She tried to seduce me. No she didn't, I read it all wrong. Well, how else could it be read? There's something going on. I need to know more…'

Without another thought, Harry channelled his magic and tuned himself back into the wards. He quickly found his target making her way along the corridor towards the second guest room where he knew the elves had deposited her luggage. By the time Ginny was inside, Harry was following her path underneath his father's old invisibility cloak.

It was almost nostalgic to use the old garment again - it even still fit him somehow, despite him no longer being a scrawny little boy. He doubted both he and Hermione could possibly fit anymore, which certainly limited their options, but for now it only needed to conceal himself.

As he approached the guest bedroom, the door opposite opened and Harry stopped in his tracks. A head of platinum blonde hair poked out and quietly shuffled across to Ginny's bedroom, slipping inside. Harry banished the privacy charm on the bedroom door and crept up to listen.

"Ginny?" he heard Fleur's voice muffled through the door. "Ginny, we need to talk."

Harry's curiosity piqued at that, his mind racing as what they could possibly need to talk about. He almost thought about leaving, worried he mind be intruding on a deeply personal conversation, until he heard Fleur speak again.

"I'm not sure that our plan is going to work."

'Plan?' Harry thought. 'What plan? Why would she and Ginny be planning something? Unless…?'

"I wouldn't worry too much about that," he heard Ginny's voice echo from the en-suite bathroom. "I've got him right where I want him. We might not even need a week, let alone two."

By now, Harry's full attention was focused on the voices beyond the door. His heart was racing with anticipation, all the while his stomach was sinking into the floor.

"I don't know why you're so confident," Fleur's voice replied. "It's not like we've made much progress."

"You haven't made much progress, you mean," Ginny laughed. "I, meanwhile, have him eating out of the palm of my hand."

He heard Fleur huff and imagined her hands on her waist.

"It's going to take a lot more than cleavage and a bit of allure to turn his head, Ginevra."

Harry's eyes widened. His whole body tensed.

'Allure? What did she mean by…?'

Harry thought back to breakfast that morning, before Hermione walked in, when he felt something pushing against his mind, trying to sway his thoughts. It was during his brief conversation with Fleur and the sensation quickly ended the moment her focus was drawn elsewhere, which could only mean…

No, that would be ridiculous. Fleur wasn't that kind of person, surely? Besides, she was married! What would she have to gain from seducing another man?

His mind was drawn back to the bedroom as he heard Ginny's voice rise up.

"Well, it's a good thing one of us has the initiative to speed things along on that front."

Footsteps brushed against the carpet.

"What do you mean?" Fleur asked.

"Well," Ginny replied and he heard the unmistakable sound of high heels click-clacking against marble, "I dare say when Harry gets here in a few minutes he'll have a hard time resisting all this."

There was a scuffle and Harry took the opportunity to carefully open the door just a sliver. What he saw was almost enough to makes his eyes burst out of their sockets. Ginny was standing in the doorway to the bathroom, leaning against the frame, dressed in nought but deep red lingerie and high heels. Her lean, athletic body was wrapped in tight lace, her legs captured in stockings and her lips painted a bright scarlet. Fleur meanwhile, clad in her modest pyjamas, was scrambling with a blanket, throwing it over her.

"Cover yourself up before someone sees you!" Fleur exclaimed. "Why do you even have these? We're supposed to be doing this with some subtlety and this. Isn't. Subtle!"

"Subtlety wasn't working, you said so yourself! Besides, it's not like Harry complained…"

Fleur was silent for a moment.

"What did you do?" she seethed.

"I took matters into my own hands," Ginny replied smugly. "Any minute now Harry will be walking through that door ready for his first night with a realwoman in quite some time."

"Please, don't tell me you let Harry see you in this?"

"Not this exactly, I had a bathrobe on as well-"

"Mon dieu! What were you thinking?! If he finds out what we're doing here-"

"So what? Let him see me! I know he wants someone fit and beautiful like me, not some fat whore who needs to get herself knocked up to keep him from leaving her. A big, strong man like Harry needs to be with someone who deserves him."

"Oh, like you, perhaps?"

"Yes! That's why we're here! Mum said so! She said I only need to remind him why we're prefect for each other and he'll come home with us in an instant. Then we'll get married and have lots of beautiful babies with red hair and green eyes and Hermione - that stupid, treacherous cow - won't be able to control him any longer!"

"Shh!" Fleur hissed. "Be quiet! Someone might hear you!"

But it was too late. Harry had heard everything and he was beyond pissed off.

Ginny really thought she could just turn up on his doorstep, walk into his bedroom and simply seduce him into running away from everything he had here at Potter Manor. All because she thought he owed her anything. How could she? He was a husband, for crying out loud, a father! He was still wearing his wedding ring and Ginny just assumed she could wriggle her way into his bed?! He would never give that up, not for Ginny, not for anyone?! What was she thinking?

Harry took a deep breath, trying to bring himself back down to Earth. How could he have been so naïve? In wanting to be a good host, he had written off all those stares as her just being nervous, but no, in hindsight it was clear that Ginny was studying him, sizing him up. All this time she had been plotting to seduce him, all while in the company of his wife.

And Fleur, despite her manners and her well-wishes and compliments, had gone along with it. She had tried to use her allure on him in, tried to sway his mind, make him vulnerable to Ginny's advances. They both had betrayed his- no, betrayed his and Hermione's trust. He had let them near his child….

Harry's eyes glowed furiously. His breathing became ragged as he pulled air between his gritted teeth. Harry had to stop himself from tearing a hole in the cloak between his clenching fingers with his inhuman strength. It took Harry a good few minutes to calm himself enough to have a coherent thought, the most sensible one he could think of:

He needed to tell Hermione immediately.

Not waiting a moment more, Harry kicked off from the railing and marched out of the bedroom in the direction of the nursery. He didn't stop walking until he arrived, walking so fast he felt a breeze rushing past his ears. The sight that greeted him as he entered the nursery, however, stopped him in his tracks.

Hermione, his gorgeous Holstaur, was standing beside the lone crib, rocking his child in her soft, chubby arms. A soft lullaby met his ears, masking the sound of Jame's soft suckling, a dazzling smile on her face that radiated joy. Harry could feel the anger draining from his body, suddenly overcome with love for his rotund wife.

Like a man entranced, he walked towards the love of his life and wrapped his arms around her large curves, feeling her soft skin through the sheer material of her dressing gown. His heart swelled as he heard a happy moo from beneath him, his nose rested in her hair and he took several deep breaths of her vanilla scent to calm himself.

"How is he?" he whispered. Hermione hummed, her tail softly swishing against his toned body.

"He's been very needy today. Just can't seem to get enough of his mummy."

"Just like his daddy, then," he grinned, taking a nip on her floppy ear.

"Not until later, you," she giggled, putting on her best strict voice. Hermione knew that she could never really deny her master, but the fun was in trying. However, her smile faded when she sensed Harry's stress. "What is it, my love?"

Harry sighed wearily, pacing around the room as Hermione put James down in his crib. A part didn't want to tell. There was no way she would be happy about this, but she deserved to know. It would be wrong of him to hide it from her.

"There's something I have to tell you."

That was when Harry revealed everything that had happened until that point, everything he had noticed, the dots he had put together, and as he spoke, he watched his wife's face drift from concern to shock. It made him glad that she had chosen to put James in his cot first.

"What?" Hermione exclaimed, keeping her voice down so as not to scare the baby. Harry nodded.

"I know," Harry said softly, placing his arm upon Hermione's own to quell the rage that was slowly building. "I couldn't believe it either, but the allure, the flirting just now, it's just…"

Hermione couldn't believe what she had just heard! Ginny and Fleur, conspiring against them! After she had so graciously allowed them inside their home, showed them their gorgeous baby boy! Her so-called friends!

She scarcely wanted to believe it, but she knew that Harry would never lie to her, not about something like this...

They wanted to steal her master from her, her big sexy bull. They came here, into their home, to take her breeding daddy away. Her husband, her mate . If there was one sure-fire way to get on the wrong side of a Holstaur, it was to mess with their mate.

Hermione's body quivered with rage. Her eyes twitched menacingly.

"Those... those scheming little-!"

It honestly looked like she was about to explode from sheer anger and that was something little James didn't need to see.

"I'll kick them out first thing in the morning," Harry quickly offered, however, to his surprise, Hermione shook her head,

"No!" She looked up, and Harry saw her eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. "Let them play their little game. We'll show them exactly what happens when they try to mess with the Potters. Ginny, the little brat, will get what's coming to her for trying to steal away moo~ my Master!"

It was clear that it wasn't just Hermione talking. Her Holstaur side was coming out in full force and Harry knew once you triggered her primal side there was little to no reasoning with her. Not that he would, of course the girls deserved it for what they tried to do. In a court of law, they could easily be charged with anything from coercion to line-theft or even attempted-kidnapping, serious crimes with serious jail time, especially against a member of an Ancient and Noble House such as the Potters.

If Harry and Hermione were feeling merciful, they would just throw them out onto the street and tell them never to come back, but no, they weren't feeling all that merciful, not today. However, they certainly weren't going to hand the pair over to the authorities either, that would be far too easy. Hermione was never the one to take the easy approach. She preferred to be thorough. Something far worse than jail was waiting for their guests, something that could benefit everyone .

Harry couldn't help but smile.

"And Fleur?" he asked, snapping Hermione from her thoughts momentarily. "What'll happen to her?"

Hermione's eyes seemed to gleam as she looked up at her Master.

"Well... I did notice you eyeing her up earlier-" She raised her hand to stop his rebuttal. "I don't blame you, she is a lovely piece of French tart, and I think she'll make a wonderful addition to the house." A rather perverted giggle escaped her lips. "As for Ginny... you leave her to me!"

Harry shook his head. He almost felt sorry for the girls.

Hermione was a calm, docile cow most of the time, a loving mother and wife. Provoke her, however, and you'll wish that you were never born. She could be quite... vengeful when she wanted to be. He dreaded to think what Hermione had in mind for Ginny, but after today, she had more than earned it.

"Come here, Missymoo," Harry whispered and suddenly lifted Hermione up into his arms.

Their faces met and he planted his lips upon hers. Hermione moaned graciously and surrendered to the kiss, allowing Harry to take full control. His hands dug into her mountainous arse cheeks and lifted her up into his chest, squishing her soft chubby flesh against his and deepening their kiss.

From beneath them, James gurgled happily. His little hands clapped together as he watched his Mummy and Daddy express their love for each other from his little cot. A few seconds later, Harry pulled away from the kiss, and placed Hermione back down on the ground. She stumbled slightly as pleasure coursed through her body.

"Well, then, we'd better get started," Harry smirked as he gently squeezed his cow's luscious tits. "We have a lot of planning to do."

Hermione couldn't help but 'moo' in anticipation as she was led from the baby's room to the master bedroom, where they would plan their revenge between several bouts of charged love-making. By the end of it, Hermione was bloated with cum and Harry's stomach was full with milk. Both husband and wife, bull and cow, were content and ready to exact punishment.

The next morning in the dining room, Fleur and Ginny found themselves seated in disparate chairs.

Fleur sat as straight as she could, her arms placed neatly on her lap, whilst Ginny nervously fidgeted as they both looked at Harry. The Lord of the house sat silently, eating his breakfast as if the two girls were hardly there.

There was no pleasant conversation or light chatter, the only sounds were from the happy House Elves working in the garden and the faintest noises of cutlery being prepared.

They had tried a few times to initiate idle chat with the Lord of the household - "Isn't the weather lovely," Fleur would say and, "The garden looks beautiful," Ginny would add - but Harry merely continued eating his fruit salad without a glance in their direction. They weren't to know, of course, that Harry had heard them conspiring last night about how best to coerce him from his marriage and that he was doing all he could to quench the fury he held at seeing them again, pretending like butter wouldn't melt in their mouths.

So, the silence continued on, taunting the girls until eventually one of them could no longer suffer under it.

"So, Harry," Ginny spoke as casually as she could muster, "I was wondering why I didn't see you last night. I did say I had a problem in my bedroom."

Harry glanced up at Ginny, an eyebrow raised in her direction. Ginny squirmed in her seat.

"I got my elves to look into it," he said dismissively, "and they couldn't find anything."

"Oh, I'm not surprised. I did say it was a problem only you could solve."

"And why is that, Ginevra?"

His firm gaze and stark tone suddenly had her at a loss for words.

"Umm, well, it's… umm," she murmured, trying to figure out how best to communicate that she was expecting him to come and fuck her. "Oh, don't be silly, Harry…"

"I'm not."

There were a few moments when no one dared to even breathe. Ginny chanced a look at the chair opposite and found her sister in law staring at her like she had grown an extra head.

"Well, it was nothing, clearly," Ginny said, fixing her top. "I just thought you'd might like to help me."

"In any way I can, Ginny," Harry said pleasantly, eying up both of the girls in a way that made them feel like they were on trial. "You are our guest, after all. We're very lucky to have such close friends staying with us and we want to make sure you're both comfortable."

"We are very comfortable, Harry, thank you," Fleur hurriedly quickly replied and shot Ginny a look that demanded she stop talking. Wisely, Ginny took that advice.

The two girls chose to sit in awkward silence, eating their toast and jam, as they waited for their tea. For some reason it was taking longer than usual this morning. Before they had a chance to wonder why, the doors to the dining room opened and in walked Lady Potter, clad in the same lewd outfit as the day they arrived.

"Tea's ready~" Hermione chirped as she arrived with a tray two steaming cups of tea and a tea pot. Once again she carried James in her sling, happily drinking from her bulbous tit. By this point, the sight was not uncommon to the girls, but it was still certainly outside of their comfort zone. Fleur couldn't help but imagine how it felt to have a baby feeding from her nipple. How she would love to find out one day...

Hermione placed the tea tray down on the table in front of the three and both Ginny and Fleur reached forward to grab a cup. The two girls graciously thanked Hermione for her service, who smiled meekly in response. The guests then lifted the steaming cups to their lips and drank. The horny Holstaur maid couldn't help but lick her lips eagerly as she eyed Fleur taking several long, thirsty sips.

"Mon dieu!" Fleur gasped as she swallowed her mouthful. "This tea is lovely! What is that taste? So sweet! You didn't add any sugar, did you?"

"No, no sugar" Hermione replied absently, subtly adjusting her free breast strap. ' But plenty of milk, ' she thought to herself.

"And I notice it's a little bit salty too," Fleur remarked after another sip. "Oh, it must be caramel! You really didn't have to spoil us like this, Hermione."

Ginny rolled her eyes from behind her mug of regular tea, hiding her disgust at what she believed to be yet another arse-kissing by her sister-in-law. Hermione however discreetly looked over towards Harry, who gave her a quick wink – congratulations for a job well done. She smiled and her tail wriggled happily.

Blissfully ignorant of their exchange, Fleur took another sip of tea, enjoying the sweet and creamy taste, all the while wondering what they had done to create such a delicious blend. Then again, it would have been very difficult for her to discern exactly what they had put into her tea, because she had never tasted Holstaur milk before.

The side effects of drinking pure Holstaur milk were almost entirely undocumented as only Holstaur mates and offspring were allowed such a privilege. However, Hermione had some idea of the effects that could be achieved with regular doses, the example that she knew being of course Harry. His transformation was frankly astonishing and quite rapid. In only a few months he had grown from a scrawny young man into a Goliath. Holstaur magic was clearly a potent drink, but combining it with a strong 'catalyst' (gladly provided by Harry, or more specifically by his large, churning balls) and exposing it to Veela magic?

Well, that was a hypothesis that neither Harry nor Hermione could resist exploring. And so began the testing on their oblivious blonde guest, who continued to drink the spiked tea, completely unaware of the changes already happening within her body.

The transformation would soon begin and Harry and Hermione would be there to document each and every one of the side effects.

It started off with small things - like another cake for dessert, a larger portion of beef for dinner, a second cup of delicious tea in the morning - but after a week of drinking magical milk every day, the changes were starting to become very real, until finally they could no longer be ignored.

The first time Fleur really noticed, she was in her room, grunting and struggling to pull on a pair of jeans that fit her perfectly but a few days before. For whatever reason now, they were just a little bit too tight, so much so that she could just barely squeeze her thighs into them. Now she was currently battling to get them to cover her jiggling arse and failing miserably.

"Come on!" she gasped but her stubborn waist band refused to venture over the curve of her globe-like cheeks, no matter how hard she pulled.

Something was clearly wrong here, Fleur deduced. She couldn't have gained weight this quickly, that was impossible, so what was going on? Why the hell was her stupid, fat arse not getting into her jeans?

"Is everything alright?" a voice called from behind the door, causing the frenchwoman to jump out of her skin.

"Argh!" she squealed, nearly tripping over in her jeans. "Hermione! Please don't come in, I'm fine-"

But the door was already open and Hermione, clothed in a silk dressing gown, walked through the doorway, entering upon the scene of a frantic, half-naked Fleur gripping the waistband of her trousers.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked with a motherly concern, feigning ignorance.

"It's nothing, just my jeans," Fleur replied, trying once again to pull them up her legs. "They don't seem to... fit anymore."

"Well that happens as we get older," Hermione nodded, to which Fleur scoffed.

"Not to some of us."

Especially not to Veela, she meant. Veela were supposed to maintain their perfect shape for as long as they lived. It wasn't a social pressure or a cultural ideal, it was a genetic certainty. It was unheard of for even a quarter-Veela to let herself go, except in the most extreme circumstances. As such, gaining weight was a phenomenon Fleur was wholly unprepared to deal with, one that left her entirely bewildered.

"I might have given you too much cake the other day," Hermione offered. "It is very filling. But then that's how Harry likes it."

"No it can't be that," Fleur gasped in frustration, "I must... just... Hrnngh!"

"They must have shrunk in the wash, Fleur. Here let me help you."

Hermione brandished her wand and cast a bright blue charm on Fleur's jeans. The material sagged slightly as it grew between her fingers, allowing her to pull it up with ease. As much as it embarrassed her to say, they fit much much better now.

"Thank you, Hermione," Fleur sighed.

"That's alright," the Holstaur replied brightly. "It happens all the time around here. I've had to get very good at it, what with the pregnancy and all."

At the mention of the pregnancy, she saw Fleur's face darken as a deep swell of sadness fell across her features. Hermione blinked, tilting her head inquisitively. Her ears twitched curiously.

"You seem stressed, is something wrong?"

Fleur sighed and fell into a seat on the bed.

"I don't know," she replied forlornly.

Hermione shook her head and squeezed herself beside the french witch, wrapping a warm arm around her.

"You can tell me," she said. "I won't judge."

Fleur eyed her for a moment before shaking her head.

"I don't know what's happening to me, 'Ermione," she sighed, her impeccably accent slipping from stress. "I am just so hungry all the time. I thought I wasn't eating enough at first, but then this 'appens and now I'm worried that I 'ave eaten too much! What if I'm getting fat?! I can't get fat! Zat shouldn't 'appen! But eet eez, look at me! Beel eez going to come 'ome and find a whale for a wife 'o can't cook or clean or do anything right and I-"

The young Frenchwoman burst into tears. She had kept this all in for so long and now she had finally begun to say aloud, she couldn't stop. It was all pouring forth like a raging river.

"Shh," Hermione cooed, rubbing her back in soothing circles, "it's okay."

In the midst of her sudden tears, Fleur was powerless to do anything but fall into Hermione's arms and she hated herself for it. She was usually far more composed than this, but ever since she arrived she'd been struggling to control her emotions, like she was a little schoolgirl. What was happening to her? She was a mess!

"I'm sorry," she sniffed. "Eet's just zat Bill and I haven't had ze time to be togezzer recently, and Molly eez constantly telling me zat I am a screw-up all ze time... Why does she not like me, 'Ermione? What 'ave I done wrong?"

"Don't worry about what Molly thinks," Hermione soothed. "Bill loves you, he married you."

"'E married a Veela," Fleur hiccupped with a scowl. "Zat was 'o 'e wanted. Someone to warm 'is bed, someone to 'ave on 'is arm at parties. 'E 'asn't even bozzered to learn French, and 'e doesn't want to. Says 'e's too busy, zat we don't visit France often enough to wawar... to war…" Her tongue caught in her mouth as the word escaped her. "Argh!"

"To warrant it?" Hermione calmly offered. Fleur nodded despondently.

"Oui. I'm stumbling over my words." She gestured to herself with disgust. "Look at me. I am a wreck. A failure of a wife."

Hermione tutted, pulling Fleur into the comforting expanse of titty pillows.

"Don't be so harsh on yourself. It's a skill, being a wife. Like anything else it just needs time and practise. I never thought I could make it work, I never imagined this would be my life, but here I am. I learn as I go. You can too. It helps that I have Harry, he's a very patient husband..." she smiled and rubbing her thighs together, "and a wonderful lover."

"Vraiment?" Fleur giggled.

"Mmhmm," Hermione grinned mischievously, "it's the reason why I'm having all these kids for him. I wouldn't be carrying these two so soon after James if the sex wasn't to die for."

The Veela's glazed over as her imagination ran wild. That is until Hermione's words truly sank in and she immediately sat up, her eyes wide.

"Zese... two?"

Her surprise caused Hermione to giggle as she leaned in to whisper.

"Don't tell him yet, but I think I'm having twins this time." She patted her belly through her dressing gown. "Mother's instinct."

Fleur gasped, her eyes alight with wonder and excitement.

"Zat eez wonderful!" She too leaned down to cup Hermione's chubby stomach like it was the most precious thing in the world. Hermione blushed under the attention. "Oh, magnifique! I'm so 'appy for you!"

"Thank you, Fleur."

For a moment, Fleur looked lost in thought.

"My Beel... 'e is not so patient," she painfully admitted. "And I wouldn't call 'im ze best lover I 'ave ever 'ad."

"No?" Hermione gasped scandalously.

"Non," Fleur chuckled, her face red. "In truth... 'e is quite lacking. It does not last long and I rarely... finish, so to speak. I 'onestly don't know why I agreed to marry 'im so quickly. Eet was a whirlwind romance and what with Molly saying we were wrong togezzer, it made us want to get married all ze sooner. Look where zat 'as got us."

"It worked for Harry and I."

"Oui, but zen you two were made for each ozzer. Anyone can see eet."

Despite the two of them never really being friends before, even in light of her plans for Fleur, Hermione couldn't help but be touched by the Veela's words. Hermione pulled the French girl in for a warm hug.

"It'll be alright in the end, I promise. If you ever need my help again, just say."

"Thank you, 'Ermione," Fleur nodded into her dressing gown. The hug ended and Fleur sat up straight, regaining her composure, reeling her in her natural accent. "Sorry, I'm feeling much better now. I'll be alright from here."

Hermione nodded courteously and rose to leave, her feelings for the frenchwoman now far more complicated. It seemed as though somewhere in the brief conversation they had shared, she had developed a new soft spot for Fleur. Maybe it was a side effect of her Holstaur hormones deeming her a worthy brood-sister for her master (a side effect that she had read about in the great Bestiary of the Potter library). Or perhaps, in finally being allowed to see past the French woman's prim and proper exterior, Hermione had found someone she could genuinely like, as a friend and... maybe even more. There was definitely something more than friendship that she could feel under the surface. Fleur was a beautiful girl after all and Hermione was only human. Well, only Holstaur to be precise.

She was stopped in her musings when she heard Fleur's voice again.

"Hermione?" she asked, her face meek and bashful. "I think my bra might have shrunk in the wash as well."

In her embarrassment, Fleur happened to miss the glint in Lady Potter's eye and the small, satisfied quirk of her lips.

"Of course, Fleur," Hermione replied pleasantly, readying her wand. "Let me help you with that."

"As I have explained to Molly a thousand times," Harry said, throwing the tennis ball up into the air for a powerful serve, "I have other responsibilities." He leaped forward to whack the ball on its return. "I'm needed here, at Potter Manor, with my family. The Wizarding World can handle itself for a while.

"I get that," Fleur replied from the other side of the neatly-trimmed court as she sent the ball flying back over the net, "but you should think about what Molly says. It would be good for your re... your repu..." The four-syllable word was forgotten as she instead focused on the ball. "How people think of you, I mean. It is important that you get in front of the.. the con... of the problem before the press makes you into a paruh..."

"Pariah?" Harry asked as another tennis ball whizzed past his racket.

"Oui," Fleur smiled and wiped a bead of sweat from her brow, "zat's eet."

"15 – Love," Hermione shouted from her seat under the shade, bouncing a gargling James on her lap. The infant boy laughed delightfully at the sight of tennis, clapping wildly regardless of who won.

Ginny meanwhile sat beside them on her own deck chair, far too concerned about her sister-in-law to really pay attention to the game.

Whilst the effects of the milk had been slow to appear at first, they were now very noticeable, even to someone like Ginny, who had begun to grow very suspicious and just a little bit worried.

For one, Fleur seemed far more aloof nowadays. She was prone to becoming distracted and was rather forgetful at times. It was common to find her daydreaming when she should be paying attention and her pristine manners, that Ginny once despised, were now frightfully absent.

Just this morning at breakfast, Fleur had done the unthinkable and dove right into her eggs and toast without waiting for Harry to be seated. Ginny remembered all too well having to kick her from under the table to get her to stop, which resulted in a scandalised Fleur profusely apologising to the Lord of House. Apparently she had been too hungry to wait for him, which Harry only seemed to smile at before allowing her to carry on.

This wouldn't have been too bad if it were an isolated incident, but this was slowly becoming a more regular sight. Mealtimes with Fleur had devolved from displays of fine etiquette to the Frenchwoman eating like a pig, guzzling down food and gulping down tea without any regard for manners.

That probably explained why the quarter-Veela was gaining weight, at least it certainly did in Ginny's mind. All those years she had spent in silent jealousy of Fleur's perfect thin body. Well, it certainly wasn't 'thin' anymore, judging by her bulging waistband.

Frustratingly, rather than compromise the Veela's pristine figure, all the extra pounds only seemed to make her body even more sexy. The added weight went straight to all the right places, exaggerating her luscious curves into a lusty hourglass. Her tennis gear - a cap, crop-top and short sports skirt, all a shade of blinding white – did little to cover her big arse and bulbous tits that stretched the fabric to breakpoint until the fibres were almost translucent. Ginny could see beneath them clear as day a bright red pair of thin panties gripping Fleur's arse cheeks as well as a scarlet bra struggling to hold her jiggling tits. The way her body bounced and swayed with every swing of the racket was almost hypnotising. A few trickles of sweat ran down her soft skin and for a moment Ginny pictured running her tongue against it...

Ginny pinched herself, shaking her head before taking another sip of her lemonade. She really shouldn't be thinking about her sister-in-law like that and if she were in her right mind she wouldn't be. Probably because for some reason Fleur's allure was out of control. Not only was it targeting Harry, but everyone, Ginny included, and safe to say this was... extremely distracting.

The Weasley girl had a few theories of why it was happening. Maybe Fleur was trying to break through Harry's mental block and the allure hitting everyone else was just the run-off. Maybe it was her hormones fluctuating for some other reason? It would explain why she was gaining weight so quickly.

With half her mind on the court, Ginny fidgeted in her seat, trying to adjust her panties from rubbing against her wet core. Her simple t-shirt felt tight and constricting against her diamond-hard nipples. Everything that touched her skin demanded her attention, as if her sense had been dialled up to eleven. She glanced to her side where Hermione was sitting, happily watching the game, her eyes fixed on Fleur. Surely she could feel it too, right?

"Yes!" Fleur's voice announced from the court, "I win!"

Harry sighed, shaking his head and smiling as he walked to find the stray tennis ball.

"Yes," he concurred, "well done."

The fellow Potters on the sidelines cheered.

"Woo!" Hermione shouted, bouncing an ecstatic James on her knee. "Go Fleur!"

The baby chimed in with a loud, happy gurgle that made Fleur beam with pride and Harry chuckle.

"Clearly I need some work on my Tennis skills," he said.

"Do not be mad, 'Arry," Fleur pouted. "Tennis was made by ze French. I am simply na... na-too-ra-lee gifted." The woman carefully sounded out the word like a tongue twister, as if her brain could only surmount one syllable at a time, beaming as she completed it. "Oui, naturally gifted."

Ginny frowned. That was yet another thing she had noticed about Fleur. Her repertoire of English words had shrunk significantly, to the point where it was rare to see her attempt a word more than three syllables long and whenever she did it was with great difficulty. All that poise and practice had seemingly disappeared. What was her plan here? To grab Harry's attention by acting like a brainless bimbo?

"Well," Harry replied, "clearly my gifts are in other areas."

"I would like to see zem some time," Fleur whispered, leaning her elbows against the net, showing off her bountiful breasts, begging to be released from the tight constraints of her bra. Her eyes locked from beneath her long lashes and to Ginny's shock Harry's only response was to stare right back at her.

"If you're lucky," he said in a low voice, "you might just."

Ginny glanced between the two of them, hardly believing what she was seeing. The two were locked in a long, heated staring contest, eye fucking each other right in front of their audience. Even from the edge of the court, she could see Harry's bulge in his tight tennis shorts, the wet camel toe underneath Fleur's skin-tight sports skirt. Her sister-in-law was openly seducing this man in front of his pregnant wife and worst of all, Hermione was seemingly blind to it.

This wasn't a rare occurrence either. Fleur took each and every opportunity to flirt with Harry, regardless if Hermione was present. Draping herself over his body, giggling cutely at his jokes, complimenting his clothes every morning, gazing longingly at him whenever she could. It was so obvious but no one acknowledged it. Ginny felt like she was going mad and it was all Fleur's fault!

They were supposed to be going for subtlety, here! If she didn't know any better, Ginny would assume Fleur was positively smitten with the man but that wasn't possible. It just.. it just wasn't! Fleur was married to Bill, very happily, and she'd never been interested in Harry before! No, this was all just an act. She was fucking with her, she had to be. There was no way that Fleur had actually fallen in love with Harry... right?

Along with Fleur's win came a round of hearty congratulations, during which Hermione and Fleur shared a suspiciously long hug. Before Ginny could investigate, they were all ushered inside the manor. Ginny was led behind the Potters, where she came face to face with James whose head was resting on Hermione's shoulder. His wide green eyes stared owlishly at her. Ginny's only response chose to stick her tongue out at him, which earned an innocent giggle from the baby. The young Weasley smiled despite herself. As much as Ginny wanted to hate him, even she had to admit, the little tike was incredibly cute.

No one noticed Fleur trailing behind them, subtly massaging her aching breast. It had been feeling sore all day, but that was probably the sports bra's fault. It was new after all and new sports bras were always uncomfortable to begin with. Fleur was sure it was nothing to worry about and she continued to be sure when it persisted long after she had removed the sports bra.

Fleur stepped out of the ornate bathroom, her curves wrapped in only a bath-towel, and stretched. She had just finished her hot shower and now was ready for a nice long sleep in her luxurious queen-sized bed.

Stepping over to the vanity, she paused to take a look at herself. Her hair had only just dried and yet it was still delicately curled and full of volume, with a perfect golden sheen. It would take even the best hair stylists hours to get a result as stunning as this. For Fleur, however, it required no effort at all. Her face looked picturesque as always, perfectly composed with clean skin and long lashes.

That was one of the best and worst things about being a Veela, she would never need make-up to look beautiful. Her looks were eternal, a part of her biology. She would always be the most beautiful person in the room. A vision. A muse.

A freak.

Fleur sighed. She was proud to be part-Veela, she really was, but there were some days when there was nothing she wouldn't give to be normal. Being eternally beautiful meant that she would also be forever different. There was nothing that people loved and hated more than a beautiful woman.

The boys loved her, always enthralled by her, that is until they realised that simply lusting after her wasn't enough to pull her into their beds. Then she was a bitch, a slut, someone to scorn and blame for their loneliness. The girls hated her simply because she was more beautiful than them. Their insecurity would be deemed her fault, regardless of whether she wanted it or not.

What would it be like, Fleur wondered, to have somewhere to truly belong? Somewhere outside of her family home where she could be loved as just herself?

Hopefully somewhere with plenty of food, she noted, hearing her stomach gurgle in protest. That was odd, she could swear she had a hearty portion at dinner and yet she still felt hungry. Oh well, a quick trip to the kitchens for a snack wouldn't do any harm, would it?

The young woman quickly dressed into loose sleepwear - a pale blue nightie and pink pyjama shorts - and left her bedroom in search of the kitchen. If her memory was correct, it shouldn't be too far from the guest quarters, in the middle of the house.

The quiet walk allowed her some time to reflect a few things. Overall, her impromptu holiday was going really rather well. Harry and Hermione were warm and welcoming, it was a joy to talk to them after such a long time. The last time they talked it had been in the ashes of war. Now they could sit and chat about meaningless things, enjoy sunny days and relax.

Of course Ginny had been in a bad mood, just like always. Fleur could feel the younger girl's eyes on her all, probably judging her like the rest of her family tended to do. The number of times Fleur had been tempted to shout at her, to ask what on Earth she wanted out of her! Honestly, this mission would go a lot easier if she wasn't constantly scrutinising her every move, trying to butt in on her conversations with inane questions and all but drooling over Harry to get his attention.

Well, at least she had one female friend in Potter Manor, namely Hermione. Fleur was surprised at just how much she was drawn to the young woman. They surprisingly had a lot of things in common:a desire for real love and affection, a sharp intelligence, a drive to be the best. The Lady Potter was growing into a fast friend, one who Fleur could relate to on so many levels.

Hell, Hermione was even a magical creature now, just like her. Albeit Hermione was a Holstaur and she was a part-Veela, but still, the British witch now knew what it was like to be more than your average witch. The effects of this heritage were far more obvious in Hermione's case, with her magical beauty appearing in her frankly preposterous proportions, as well as her ears and tail that made her look rather odd but in an adorable sort of way. She had to admit, even with all the changes, Fleur found Hermione alluring in her own way.

How could she not when presented with the majesty of Hermione's gargantuan tits? They were both so big, heavy and pendulous, always full and sloshing with milk, perfectly balanced by her expansive arse cheeks that wobbled and teased her as she strutted; her chubby belly, so round and soft and inviting, spoke of a soothing sexuality. Her curvy bimbo body was the ideal of motherhood, like a goddess of fertility, and Fleur couldn't help but imagine what it felt like to worship that body, to lay beside it, stroke it, kiss it, indulge in it...

Fleur shook her head, feeling her face erupt in a blush. She shouldn't be thinking of her host in such a way. Even if Hermione was a sexy, voluptuous Holstaur MILF, she was her host, not to mention married to a husband who was just as sexy, what with his tall stature and rippling muscles and charming smile that made her want to sink to her knees and suck his gigantic, smelly cock-

God, she was horny. She really needed to get back to her room and take care of this before she wet the carpet.

Her musings were interrupted as she was walking past an open door. A light shined through the doorway and onto the carpet in front of her and from inside the room Fleur heard a sound that immediately grabbed her attention. It was a giggle, one tiny and light, followed by a laugh, much deeper and much older. All other thoughts were flushed out of her head as she recognised the people those voices belonged to.

Enthralled, she walked forward and quietly pushed the door open. The sight that greeted her almost made her swoon. Harry was gently rocking a grinning James in arms, softly cooing and making funny faces that made the young boy giggle uncontrollably. James must have woken up in the night and Harry was here to put him down again, just as a loving, responsible father would. Fleur was certain that her heart might beat out of her chest as she stared longingly at the pair, wondering how a little girl might look with blonde hair and startling green eyes...

Eventually, the figure of her affections noticed her at the door and smiled at her.

"Come in, Fleur. Hey, Jamie, look who it is!" Harry whispered. The baby gurgled, reaching his out towards her as he babbled in excitement. Harry chuckled, jostling his son in his arms. "Clearly someone wants to see you before bed time."

It took a second for Fleur to register Harry's invitation, but once she did, she blinked, her face reddening. She remembered vividly the tennis match from earlier in the today, seeing Harry in his tight sports clothes, his tensing muscles, the impressive bulge in his shorts and the smell... the erotic smell of sweat and musk that made her want to put her face right up against his cock and...

Thoroughly flustered, but determined, she took a few tentative steps towards them. She pressed herself against Harry's side and carefully reached out to touch the dark strands of hair on Jame's tiny head. Her anxious strokes grew more confident as James let out a happy giggle and Fleur smiled down at him adoringly.

"Hello, James," she whispered. The baby's eyes found her face, recognising his name, and smiled back at her, causing Fleur's heart to swell.

"Would you like to hold him?"

The young woman nodded eagerly and Harry handed the precious bundle to her, lowering his babe into her waiting arms. James wriggled comfortably in her embrace, his green eyes staring up into hers, wide and full of wonder at this new face.

He was a very quiet baby, Fleur noted, much more quiet than most children his age. Just like his father in that regard. Harry was often a man of few words, but with a lot going on behind the eyes; the same eyes that now belonged to his son, just as beautiful and enchanting. The two boys, father and son, were so alike in so many ways, but the chocolate brown curls on Jame's head, those were Hermione's. He was a perfect combination of his parents, lying like a cherub in Fleur's arms.

"He is a little angel," Fleur sighed, turning to look at Harry with his son secure in her arms. "You must be so proud."

This time it was Harry's turn to nod eagerly. Fleur was about to say something else when she felt something small tightly grasp her nipple through her nightie. She squeaked in surprise and looked down where she found James pawing clumsily at her breasts. Every so often, she heard little noises of concentration as he tried to find a way in.

Harry's eyes widened comically and he sputtered.

"Ah, now James, don't-"

"Eet's alright," Fleur laughed. She turned back to the baby, who was biting impatiently at her nightie with his little mouth. "You won't find anything zere, leetle one. No milkies."

James looked up at her, his disappointment evident in his scrunched up face. Smiling down at him, Fleur cooed to the baby, until eventually his frown turned into a smile and then a giggle that warmed her heart. It all just felt so right. A feeling of contentment she had never experienced before washed over her. Holding James in her arms, bestowing soft kisses on his forehead; it was so close to a perfect moment. But it wasn't hers to cherish. This wasn't her child, Harry wasn't her husband, as much as she would love to pretend.

"I 'ave wanted a baby for so long," she confessed, "ever since I was a leetle girl. You are very lucky, you and 'Ermione. A child is..." The young woman sniffled, quickly wiping her eyes. "I'm sorry. You don't need to 'ear zis."

A warm hand rested on her shoulder.

"It's alright," Harry replied, "I understand. Ever since I was a boy I've wanted to be a dad, to have a family. I always thought that there was something missing inside me. I grew up alone, with no one to love. And now I have Hermione... I have James. I have a family. And I wouldn't give them up for the world."

It was easy to see from his face alone that he was telling the truth, it was as clear as day just how much Harry loved his family. Fleur saw it in his eyes every day. There was nothing she wouldn't give to have someone who would look at her like that.

"I weesh I could 'ave zis with Beel," she admitted, "But any time I ask... zere eez always somezing. Eet eez never ze right time. I start to wonder if zere will never be a right time. If 'e just... doesn't want me anymore."

Harry stared deep into her eyes, penetrating her soul.

"Then he's a fool."

For a moment, Fleur was dumbstruck by the sincerity in his voice. When the shock passed, what replaced it was a swell of confidence along with a deep feeling of validation that she had been waiting for. Yes, Bill was a fool for not wanting this, for not wanting the joy of a child. She wasn't crazy, this wasn;t some childish dream. Harry wasn't a fool, he was more than mature enough to know that there was nothing more important than what she was holding in her arms.

"You can hold him for a while longer if you want," he offered after a while of Fleur just staring in his eyes, to which she happily agreed. She tried rocking James in her arms, building a nice rhythm with Harry's guidance. Eventually, the baby's green eyes closed and his wriggling slowed until he lay completely still. The only noises he made were those of tiny snores.

"He eez sleeping," she marvelled, basking in the glee of having achieved such a feat. Harry hummed in agreement.

"Hmm, finally," he smiled. "All tuckered out."

Fleur smiled back, staring at him, studying him, remembering how carefully he had held James before. His attentiveness, his care, spoke of years of fatherhood and yet he was so young. Truly, Harry was an old, kind, loyal soul in a young, strong, sexy body. The perfect man if there ever was one.

"'Ermione is a lucky woman."

Harry took his eyes off of his son's sleeping form and turned to look at her.

"You will be too, one day," he promised. Fleur wanted nothing more than to believe him. Maybe one day she would find someone who shared her dreams, some kind and brave and handsome man that she could make beautiful children with.

But they wouldn't be Harry, no one would, and that fact made her heart splinter. Fleur knew that from the moment she left this manor, she would spend the rest of her life chasing an echo of a greater man. A man who could only hope to measure up to Harry Potter, the best man she had ever known.

It was only at that very moment when Fleur suddenly realised just how close together they were. Her entire body was pressed into his side, his arm ghosting her waist, trapping her against the crib. His body, drenched in his natural scent, a manly musk, overshadowed her own, reminding her who was in charge. Their faces were mere inches away, hovering in the dark with no one else but them. The things they could do and no one would know…

Fleur began to lean forward, her eyes fluttering closed. Her plump lips were pursed and ready, oh so ready, to feel his own against them. She could feel his breath against her face. His body was leaning closer…

A pair of hands lifted the snoozing weight from her arms.

"There we go," his voice murmured, as he pulled James back onto his broad chest, "you get your rest, bud. He gets cranky when he doesn't get enough sleep. Just like his mum, I suppose."

The sudden change in mood had completely thrown her off-guard. Fleur took a moment to hurriedly straighten herself up, begging her beating heart to quiet down.

"Oui," she gasped. "I mean, yes. I'm sure he does."

What the hell was she thinking? That was entirely out of line! Of course Harry didn't want to kiss her, not in front of his own son! So stupid! What an absolutely juvenile mistake! How could she have misread the situation so completely? What was she, some lovesick teenage girl?! She had to leave right now before she embarrassed herself again.

Fleur prepared to hastily excuse herself when was stopped by Harry's voice before she could reach the door.

"Listen," he spoke, his voice pulling her attention back to him like a dog on a leash, "me and Hermione both have a lot of work to be getting on with tomorrow." Fleur turned to the man of her desire, her spirits buoyed by a sliver of hope. His face wasn't angry or upset, it was perfectly calm, friendly even. Clearly he hadn't cottoned on the fact that she had tried to kiss him, though she had no idea how. "I was wondering if you wanted to look after James, just for the morning."

The idea had her blushing madly.

"Like as a... nanny?" she asked.

"Yes, I suppose so," Harry shrugged.

Relief, joy and delight flooded her brain all at once and had her bouncing on the balls of her feet. A full morning looking after James sounded like the best idea in the world. More time to spend with the adorable baby boy that had captured her heart.

"I would love to!" she exclaimed softly, grinning wider than she had ever smiled before.

"Good," Harry smiled, "he's usually up at 7. Hermione will be here giving him breakfast at that time, she'll show you what to do."

With her spirits much higher than when she entered, Fleur said goodnight and left the nursery. Once she was far enough away where she was sure no one could hear her, she allowed herself a little squeal. Throughout the walk back to her bedroom, Fleur had a spring in her step that refused to go away. She almost didn't manage to fall asleep due to the sheer excitement, but once she did, she had some of the best dreams she had ever dreamt. Dreams of adorable babies with green eyes; of having large, leaking tits sitting on her chest; of feeding her baby until it could drink no more; of thick, muscular arms wrapped around her, keeping her pressed to her lover's body.

As her mind indulged her in fantasies of maternity, in the real world a tiny bead of white trickled out of Fleur's throbbing nipple. It soaked into her nightie, leaving a tiny wet patch on the fabric. It was gone by the morning and Fleur was none the wiser.

Ginny couldn't find Fleur anywhere. She had risen for breakfast that morning ready to finally pin down that Veela and drill her for answers, only to find that Fleur was already up. Her bedroom was empty, her shower silent, her bed all tidy. That was odd. Ginny was usually the early riser out of the pair, what with Fleur needing what she called her beauty sleep. There must have been a reason why her sister-in-law hadn't waited for her this morning. Was Fleur angry at her? She couldn't think of any reason why she would.

Figuring that she might already be at breakfast, Ginny left her room and began the long walk to the dining hall. As she walked, she thought about the past few days, how best to ask Fleur what on Earth she thought she was doing trying to flirt so blatantly with her future husband. Along the way, however, her thoughts were interrupted as a door she never noticed before suddenly opened and out stepped Hermione. The Lady potter was wearing a satin dressing gown and black tights, one of her more modest outfits, which immediately set off Ginny's suspicions. Whatever she was doing in that room must be very important if she was willing to dress so conservatively (although 'conservative' was a relative term when it came to Hermione).

"Oh," the young holster smiled as she noticed her guest, "good morning, Ginny."

"Morning, Hermione," she replied. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing much," Hermione replied. "Just preparing a surprise for Harry. But you mustn't tell him."
"What is it?" Ginny asked, trying not be too obvious as she glanced over Hermione's shoulder into the darkened room behind her. A subtle smell of cauldron fire, just like the dungeons at Hogwarts, met her nose. Hermione noticed her peeping and smiled curiously.

"Oh, you'll know soon enough and so will he." Hermione turned a deliberately locked the door behind her, placing the key in between her massive tits for safe keeping. "Now, Harry and I have work to be getting on with today so I'm afraid you'll have to entertain yourself. Breakfast is ready in the dining room."

And with that, Hermione bounced and jiggled away, looking very happy with herself. Ginny was so perplexed that she'd forgotten to ask if she'd seen Fleur. She stared for a moment at the mysterious locked door before quickly deciding to move on.

Eventually, Ginny made her way to the dining room, where a single place was set out for her. An elf popped in to inform her that she was free to start as the Potters would be busy for the rest of the day. This she already knew, so she asked the small, distinguished elf what exactly they were busy with.

"Legal matters," the elf replied and promptly disappeared.

'Legal matter?' That certainly explained why Hermione had chosen to cover up as much as she did. However, that didn't explain why hers was the only place set at the dining table. Why was Fleur absent as well? Was she taking part in these so called legal matters? Had something gone wrong?

Regardless, the redhead ate her breakfast alone and quickly excused herself after her plate was clean. She walked around every room in the manor where she reasoned Fleur might be until she finally spied a head of platinum blonde in the sitting room.

"Fleur?" she called with a hint of relief and a pinch of exasperation. "Fleur I think we should talk about-"

Ginny's sentence collapsed as her eyes registered what she was seeing. She had certainly found her sister-in-law, but she hadn't expected to find her looking quite like this. Fleur was dressed in a frilly, light-blue dress-shirt - the top few buttons were left open, probably because her impressive cleavage wouldn't allow them to be done up - with a tight, white apron covering all down her front. Her hair was tied up in a neat bun with a white satin bow. Not a single strand of her platinum-gold locks were out of place. Ginny hadn't seen Fleur dressed this well since her wedding. She looked more like a maid or a receptionist than a guest.

That wasn't all, however. Sitting in Fleur's arms was none other than baby James, who was very much enjoying the young Veela's cooing and kissing. The pair were completely lost in their own little world. Fleur looked positively radiant with joy.

What the hell was going here?!

Before Ginny could interrupt and ask just that, Hermione appeared, still dressed in the same outfit and wearing a wide smile.

"Here's another bottle for him," Hermione announced, offering Fleur a bottle full of white milk with a rubber lid for James. In her other hand was a steaming mug. "And here's some tea for you, Fleur."

"Thank you," Fleur replied brightly, holding near James' lips for him to gulp down on. Her eyes dazzled with adoration towards the Lady Potter, who had come to gently cup the Veela's cheek.

"You're doing really well," Hermione praised. "He's rarely this calm around new people."

"Just following your advice," Fleur replied abashedly. "It 'elps zat 'e eez so well behaved," she added, turning to coo at the small infant, "aren't you? Aren't you ze the most polite leettle boy I've ever met?"

The small baby laughed as Fleur began blowing raspberries into his tummy, all the while Hermione stood above them, looking down at them with pride.

"You're a natural, darling," she whispered, before putting her hand on her wide, round hips. "Right, I'd better get back to my work. It's very important we get this done today. Right, Ginny?"

The redhead blinked, transfixed by Hermione's mysterious look. What in the name of Merlin did she mean by that?

"Yes, very important," she clumsily replied, but Hermione was already walking away. As she did so, Ginny thought back to the door, to Hermione's face and her cryptic comments, trying to make sense of this strange morning. Meanwhile Fleur was smiling up at her as if this was all completely normal.

"Did you 'ave a good sleep?" Fleur asked pleasantly, her vacant expression only serving to further aggravate Ginny.

"We need to talk," the feisty young Weasley insisted. Fleur put a finger to her lips.

"Shh, shh," she hissed, rocking the baby in her arms. "You might scare 'im."

"Scare him-?" Ginny took a deep, calming breath. "Look, I need to talk to you about... about all of this! What's the plan? When are we going home?"

Fleur stared at her, her eyes squinting, before her face lit up with understanding.

"Oui, ze plan. I see," she replied. "I shall meet you in your bedroom later zis evening, after supper. We will talk then."

"But I-"

"Later, Ginny."

The redhead was taken aback by the tone in her voice, so much so that any arguments were quickly set aside. Realising that she would have no luck in trying to change her mind, Ginny maturely pouted and stormed out of the room, muttering something under her breath.

Fleur dispassionately watched her leave, waiting until the living room doors were closed behind her before returning her attention to the adorable infant in her lap.

"I'm sorry about 'er, Jamie," she cooed, to which James made a concerned gurgle. "Yes, I know she can be very annoying."

Needing something to help her relax, Fleur reached forward and picked up her teacup, still steaming and pleasantly warm to the touch. She took a sip of her tea and moaned in delight. Hermione's blend was still as delicious as ever. Fleur reminded herself to ask Hermione what her secret ingredient was before she... before she had to leave and return to her lonely cottage.

It wouldn't be long now before her little holiday was over, before she would have to report back to Molly, with or without Harry in tow. Just thinking about having to leave the manor, having to leave James and Harry and even Hermione, made her sink into her stomach. Even imagining it made her feel miserable. How she would love to spend more time here, especially with Harry. He was such a kind and considerate father. He'd been around to check on them twice already, always on hand to give her advice, to calm her down if the nerves got to her. He trusted her with his son, the most precious thing in his world. The amount of trust Harry must have placed in her made her knees weak. To have a man like Harry trust her so deeply, to care for his child like it was her...

As Fleur's mind began to wander to more scandalous ideas, she was roused from her misery when she felt something small and grabby pawing at her breast.

"Oh, Jamie," she sighed fondly as the young boy searched for something new to suck on. She smiled sadly down at her. "I'm sorry, but zere's nothing for you to... oh..."

Fleur's admonishment was interrupted as she noticed a strange wet patch on her shirt.

"Zat's... odd."

The Veela reached down to touch the wet patch. Her fingers brushed across it, noting that it was warm. Maybe it was some tea that she had spilt? No, the stain was the wrong colour for tea. Besides, it was located right above where her nipple would be. In fact, now she was focusing on it, she could feel something slick and warm pooling on the inside of her bra. It was almost like...

Pulling aside her shirt, Fleur dug into her bra and pulled out her soft, creamy breast, just enough so that her nipple was bared to the open air. Her eyes fixed on it, studying it closely. All across her areola were tiny beads of white liquid, a small stream running down the curve of her tit into her white bra.

Fleur's eyes widened. This is... but it can't be! She wasn't pregnant, she hadn't had sex with Bill in months, each time with proper protection per Bill's insistence. How could this be happening?

Her thoughts consumed her mind so ravenously that Fleur hardly noticed James' eyes trailing down her open shirt. His young brain, filled only with a craving for more milk and spying a free source right in front of him, happily took the opportunity.

Fleur only noticed when she felt a soft pinching on her nipple, following a soft suckling that could only be from a tiny mouth. She glanced down and, sure enough, James was now latched onto her breast, his eyes closed as all he focused all of his attention onto her throbbing milk tap.

"Oh, no, you mustn't," Fleur exclaimed. That's when a small trickle began to flow from her tit and her shock was drowned out with pleasure, not of the sexual kind – though she be lying if she said her pussy wasn't buzzing with sheer need at that moment – but of the more fulfilling kind, like finally removing a stone from her shoe, or a glass of cold water in the middle of the night.

A guttural moan escaped from between her plump lips as a pressure she didn't even realise was there was relieved. Mouthful after mouthful of creamy milk was drawn out of her for the first time and Fleur could only sit there and moan as her world was rocked.

"Mon Dieu!"

It shouldn't feel nearly this good, should it? Hell, she should be doing this at all! She had to stop it, this was clearly crossing a line. Yet, Fleur couldn't bring herself to stop it. A primal part of her brain told her to keep going, to see it through, that there was nothing wrong with this at all. This was what she had wanted for so long, wasn't it? This was what she was made for and it just felt so unbelievably right!

So Fleur let the young babe keep drinking, on and on, as she held him and stroked him, feeding him as if he were her own child. How she would love to do this with a baby of her own, one day. It felt so good, so rewarding. She could feel his tiny lips pressing against her nipple, his tongue lapping at the tip as milked gushed out of her. She felt like nothing more than a milk bottle for him, like she was being milked like some dumb cow.

For a moment, she imagined staying at Potter Manor, being kept in the kitchen as a milk tap, a pet for the Potter's to use as they wanted, to tend to their children. Maybe, if she grovelled and begged, she would be allowed to have a child of her own. To be blessed with seed from Harry's giant cock as he fucked her, all the while James would suck on her tits, her two boys full sated, using her for all she was worth...

Fuck, why that that image have to make her so unbearably horny?

By the time James was done, Fleur had a wide smile on her face, her eyes staring into the middle distance with nothing but thoughts of pleasure and servitude behind them.

Once she realised that her baby was full, Fleur quickly looked around to make sure no one was watching. Not a single soul was in sight. Good, she might have just about gotten away with it. She turned back to the baby in her arms and pouted at him.

"You cheeky leettle boy," she whispered, planting kisses all over his pudgy face, which made James giggle. With a final kiss on the forehead, Fleur smiled down at the child and sighed. "I won't tell if you won't."

James merely stared up at her before opening his mouth wide for a yawn. His limbs went limp and soon enough, he was fast asleep, his belly full of tasty milk to keep him satisfied for now.

It staggered Fleur just how fast she was falling in love with this gorgeous little boy. A boy who was so much like his father in so many ways, specially with those mesmerising green eyes that could stare into your soul. They were a woman's eyes, Fleur noted. They belonged to Harry's mother, James' grandmother, Lily Potter. Yet, they suited the two boys so perfectly, especially Harry. Harry's eyes were the windows to his soul, a kind, gentle soul that could love endless and brave even the most vicious of storms. Oh what she wouldn't give to have those eyes look at her the way they looked at Hermione, so full of love and care and desire. How she would love to undress under the gaze of his eyes, to flaunt her body for his enjoyment...

Fleur hastily finished her tea, trying to drown these treacherous thoughts with a tasty beverage. For some reason, it only made them worse.

"Fleur!" Ginny's fingers snapped in front of her face. "Fleur, are you paying attention?"

"Oui…" Fleur replied absently, staring at the door to Ginny's bedroom as she had been for the past five minutes.

"So, what's been going on with you?" Ginny asked once again. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Mmm…" Fleur trailed off. "I am fine. Really."

"Good, okay, because I've been worried about you. You've been acting strange all week."

"'Ave I?"

"Yes!" Ginny exclaimed, her patience having ran thin. "You've been daydreaming, your manners are all over the place, you keep flirting with Harry every chance you get, you're eating like a pig-"

"Excuse-moi, Ginevra, what did you say?!" Fleur gasped, her eyes wide.

"You have!, don't deny it!" Ginny argued. "And don't call me Ginevra! You still haven't explained that whole thing at the tennis match a few days ago!"

"What thing?"

"You were flirting with Harry! Right in front of Hermione!" Ginny palmed her face, trying to scream. "I thought we were supposed to be doing this subtly, in secret, not right out in the open for anyone to see!"

She looked up, only to find that Fleur was staring at the door again, having drifted off at some point during her tirade.

"Fleur! For Merlin's sake! Are you even-"

"Do you zink 'Arry is asleep yet?" Fleur asked dreamily.

"What?" Ginny sputtered. "How the hell should I know?"

Fleur shrugged.

"I was just asking."

Ginny shook her head, trying to centre herself.

"Right, this hasn't been going as planned. Obviously, we need to think about-"

"Oh!" Fleur suddenly squealed, completely unprompted, her face bright with happiness. "Did you see leetle James playing een 'is cot today? 'E was so cute! Then 'Arry came een to play as well. Oh, Ginny, 'e eez such a good father." The Veela sighed, staring out of the window, her hands in her lap. "'Ermione eez so lucky to 'ave him."

Ginny sighed irritably. This was getting way out of hand.

"I really think we should head home soon."

Fleur snapped out of her daze. She whirled on Ginny in alarm.

"What? No- why?" she cried. She didn't want to leave just yet! She had so many things to do. They were going to take James out for a boat ride on the lake, they were going to have a picnic! She couldn't miss out on that!

"We've seen more than enough!" Ginny snapped. "We need to report to Mum. Hopefully she'll know what to do next. Clearly the seduction route isn't working."

"Maybe eet weel work! I- I just need more time!"

"You need to talk to Bill and apologise for flirting with another man. Mum was right, you Veela really are all scarlet women."

"'Beel'?"

Ginny nodded, now very worried.

"Yes, Bill," she repeated. Fleur stared at her blankly. Ginny's heart sank. "My brother? Your husband?"

Fleur blinked, and then suddenly gave a sharp gasp. Ginny stared at her, her mouth hanging open.

"Did you just forget about your own husband?!" she shouted at a dumbstruck Fleur

"N- Non, of course not, I just-"

"Just what?" Ginny insisted. Fleur went silent. "Well?"

The Veela had no answer. How could she forget about Bill? Her own husband! The man she had pledged herself to! With all these ideas of spending time with another man, another family, she had forgotten about the family she already had. Of course Fleur wanted to speak to Bill! She had missed him! She and Bill had been married for over a year now, very happily. They owned a cottage together. They were going to build a life together.

She loved him... didn't she?

Fleur tried to force the words into her head, but they didn't fit for whatever reason. It was like a lie. Her own husband, and she couldn't even say that she loved him with a straight face. Her rational mind told her that it was right, but something deep and buried, something primal, told her otherwise. What was happening to her? What had changed in these last couple of weeks to cause such things?

Or... maybe nothing had changed. Maybe, after finally having some distance from the relationship... the cracks were starting to appear. Bill was a handsome man, a smart man, who earned enough to keep them fed and to buy the house of her dreams and the life she'd always wanted... but it was all hollow. Bill could buy her happiness but he couldn't make her happy.

If even she did manage to convince him to have kids with her, however long that took, Bill would never be as good a father as Harry was. Bill complained whenever he had to clean up after himself, whenever she asked him to perform the most basic up-keeping tasks. Harry was up every night to help with James, always there to support Hermione, to clean up after themselves... a proper gentleman... a proper man.

In fact, the more she thought about it... Bill wasn't nearly as hot as Harry... in fact, she was starting to see Bill as... as an annoyance, really. Why should she go back to a man who couldn't satisfy her in the way that she needed? Who refused to give her what she wanted most in life? Even the thought of being back with Bill, lying with him in their bed... it was making her insides uncomfortable.

Harry was just... so much sexier... his large muscles... his charming smile... and a loving father, too. Maybe he could give her what she'd always wanted... a baby of her own that she could cuddle and breastfeed... just like James...

Ginny made a strangled noise in her throat as she noticed damp spots forming in Fleur's panties and the cups of her bra. Something was definitely wrong with her sister-in-law, but she didn't know what.

"Right, Fleur, pack your things, we're leaving tomorrow!" Ginny ordered.

Fleur's daydreaming was rudely shattered. She stared in shock at the redhead, her eyes wide and pleading.

"Non, but-"

"NOW!" Ginny hurriedly shoo'd Fleur away as she went over to the dresser and started to pack all of her clothes away into her suitcase. "We're leaving in the morning and that's final! Go pack your things!"

It only took a few moments before Fleur's eyes wandered towards another portrait of Harry Potter and she gave a longing sigh as she looked at him.

'But I don't want to leave...' she thought sadly.

She shook her head, and decided to at least pack her belongings just so Ginny didn't talk her ears off again.

With that, Fleur trudged despondently out of Ginny's guest room and headed towards her own guest room on the other side of the corridor.

However, what neither of the girls knew, was that both Harry and Hermione had been listening in on their conversation with the help of an eavesdropping charm. They'd been keeping a close eye on both girls the entire day, monitoring them, especially Fleur, to make sure they were ready. The married couple looked at each other and nodded.

It was time for the next phase of their plan to begin.

Ginny huffed as she closed her now fully-packed suitcase. She glanced out of the large, ornate window, only to see the night sky. It had taken her all evening to get ready to vacate Potter Manor and throughout the entire time, her thoughts were plagued with many things.

The majority of them were silently cursing Hermione to help her focus on the task at hand, but then, she was also very anxious about what had happened to Fleur. What was it that had caused this massive change within her sister-in-law so quickly? And how come she wasn't affected by it?

This, of course, led to a bigger problem; how the hell would she tell her mum any of this? How would she tell her that not only had she not managed to seduce Harry and convince him to elope but that she was unable to even convince Harry to come and visit The Burrow? Ginny hated disappointing her mum. It usually led to a lot of shouting.

Merlin, all of that packing had made her thirsty. Just as she rubbed her eyes and let loose a loud yawn. She could really do with a cup of tea for all her hard work. Oh well, what was one more drink before turning in for an early? They'd need an early start anyway if there going to leave tomorrow. Hopefully they could rise early enough that they wouldn't need to see either of the Potters on the way out. Ginny had no desire to see Fleur try to say goodbye to their hosts in person.

She was halfway towards the kitchen when she turned the corner into a familiar corridor and she was bombarded with a sense of deja vu. Just as she began to remember where she'd seen these halls before, Ginny noticed the same door Hermione had walked out of earlier today. Only this time it was unlocked and standing wide open.

Immediately she felt her curiosity begging her to go in. Whatever was inside that room had to hold some of the answers she was looking for. Perhaps this way she could figure out what Hermione's 'surprise' for Harry was. What had that bitch been preparing for him in there, all by herself?

Her mind made up, Ginny crept across the landing and slipped inside.

The first thing she noticed was an intense smell of smoke, the same smell that she'd found the last time she was standing outside the door. As it turned out there was a very good reason why it reminded her of the Hogwarts Dungeons, because all around her was a large, sophisticated potions lab with dozens of cauldrons and tubes and beakers all neatly ordered and regulated with tiny flames and self-working mops and brushes.

The walls where stacked with bookcases, filled to bursting with ancient tomes. The walls were plastered with boards detailing equations that made Ginny's head spin and pinned with pieces of paper with nonsense notes scribbled in handwriting that she almost found familiar. Some of the things down on these sheets were mad enough that Luna could have have written them. What was all of this stuff?

As she scanned the bookcase, she saw various books on magizoology and ancients potions, cross-species genetics and care of magical creatures. It was like a whole new world of magic she had never even thought about. What was Hermione doing in here? What could she possibly be preparing for Harry that required all of this?

Just then, a particular smell caught her attention and she turned to find a steaming cauldron in the middle of the room. Immediately she knew that this was what Hermione had been doing. Ginny carefully stepped closer, leaning over the lip only to find a misty potion bubbling inside. Despite receiving a fairly decent grade in potions last year, she had no idea what concoction this could possibly be. That was until she noticed an open book laid right beside it.

At the top of the page was the title of the potion, 'the Draught of Devotion', which made Ginny's eyes widen. She read its description with bated breath. This potion, according to the book, could make the drinker irresistible to the chosen target, similar to the love potion but far more devious. All it took was a clip of the target's hair added in with the rest of the ingredients and you could ensnare their senses and capture their heart. Alongside the book was a list of ingredients that matched the description perfectly, each ticked off neatly, including one entry that read 'Harry hair'.

This must be what Hermione used to seduce Harry, Ginny realised. Clearly, Hermione realised she would never compared to her peers in terms of looks and turned to other means to get one over on the competition. No wonder he never looked her way all of last year, Hermione had drugged him! Ginny huffed. And to think Hermione was usually so against love potions! Except, apparently, when it came to stealing her boyfriend!

Well, if Hermione was happy to use something as dubious like this to turn Harry's head then maybe it was time to level the playing field. Mum had always said witches were sneaky little bitches when it came to love, so the only option she found was to get in first. Ginny had wanted to deny it, but now she saw the truth. She thought she could play fair but that option had been taken off the table by that cow! If she wanted to win, she had to play dirty.

Ginny quickly found a mug and scooped a few mouthfuls of potion up just before her nose and inhaled. Her nose wrinkled and she fought the urge to gag. Rallying her resolve, she placed the lip of the mug to her lips and took a small sip to avoid burning her tongue off from the hot liquid drink.

"Urgh," she groaned, forcing herself to take another sip of the piping hot liquid. "This tastes awful. The things I do for you, Harry."

If Ginny knew what was really in that potion, she wouldn't have drank a single drop.

Before long the mug was empty and Ginny wiped her mouth clean. Her brow furrowed as a powerful aftertaste erupted on her tongue. It was odd but strangely pleasant in its own way, like caramel. She tried to pin it down but quickly gave up as the thrill of what she had done finally settled in.

Ginny grinned with triumph. She imagined walking up to Harry and Hermione, seeing him look at her with desire and getting to watch as Hermione realised that she had found out her secret. Finally, she would have everything she ever wanted. Now Hermione will see that it takes more than a stupid potion to catch Harry's eye. With this and her gorgeous looks, she'll have Harry following after her like a lovesick puppy.

She could already picture the days that would follow, how he'd thank her for liberating him from the cruel Hermione's potion-laced grasp, how it was always her he truly loved and how he'd been a fool to be led astray. Ginny would of course forgive him in time, but only after he made it up to her by proposing on the spot.

Her daydreams turned to the wedding, the wedding night and the days after, all the children they would have. However, the more she tried to think, the more her head refused to comply. Ginny shook herself, blinking in alarm as her head turned to wool. It felt like she was spinning in place. Ginny stumbled, bracing herself on her shaking arms on the workbench..

Unfortunately for the youngest Weasley, it had never occurred to her that the potion brewing in the cauldron was not the Draught of Devotion nor that the book beside it had been left open at that specific page only to convince her that it was. Nor did it occur to her in her haste that it might in fact a very different potion, one that Hermione and had spent many hours brewing since the day she had found out about Ginny's plan, one that Hermione was already very familiar with.

No, none of this occurred to Ginny as she slowly began to lose consciousness and ever inch of her body began to tingle. She was out before she hit the floor.

"Ugh..." Ginny groaned as a dull pain ached through her entire body. It felt like she was being stabbed with pins and needles, the kind one gets from sleeping on their arm for two long or from standing up too fast. Her mind was dreary and slow, bogged down from sleep. Her face felt weirdly bloated, her lips puffy.

Eventually, her bleary eyes blinked open. It took a few moments for her to register her surroundings, but as soon as she did, her grogginess turned to bewilderment. She couldn't recognise where she was. She didn't even think she was in the manor anymore... it looked too... run-down and dirty.

The smell hit her moments later, and it made her nose crinkle with disgust. It was a musty smell; hay, dirt and some other things she didn't even want to think about.

'What is this place? A barn!?' Ginny seethed. From what she could see, it was certainly a far cry from the luxurious, well-furnished bed chambers she had slept in for the past couple of weeks.

She tried to move to get a better look, craning her neck, but her hands wouldn't follow. She tried again to move only to find her arms and legs were stuck somehow, caught in rigid restraints that refused to budge. Her body had been bent at a right angle, her hands caught up near her head like she was in the stocks, with only a small, padded bar supporting her lower body under her hips.

Now beginning to panic, Ginny pulled against the restraints to no avail. She heaved and heaved, each effort growing more frantic, when suddenly she felt something flap against the side of her head. Something soft and fluffy.

The redhead rolled her eyes as far as she could, peering into the corner of her vision. Her eyes caught something with hair a shade of light copper, like her own, dangling on the side of her face. She soon found an identical thing on the other side of her head, waving past her cheeks as she turned her head. They looked almost like ears - big, long, floppy extremities like a cow's. Why was she wearing these? And why could she feel it whenever they whipped back and forth?

Suddenly, she noticed a wriggling sensation on her lower back and her heart froze. It was a strange sensation, like an extra limb attached to her tailbone. Ginny thought about waving it around and found she had some level of control over it, hearing it swish back and forth. Not only that, but there were also two small aching spots at the top of her head, just above her hairline, like something hard and pointy was sticking out of her skin.

As the prisoner came to her senses, she began registering more changes to her body, a body that felt so different to her own. For one, it felt far more cumbersome than her usually athletic Quidditch build. She could feel soft skin pressing against skin, such as her belly pressing against her thighs, something that simply wasn't possible yesterday. Her body was so heavy, even now that the grogginess had faded and she was wide awake. She tried swaying side to side to get a feel of herself and found that she was burdened with weight she didn't have before, especially on her chest.

"I see our guest is finally awake."

Whipping her head to the side, Ginny finally took notice of Hermione looking down at her, a rather sinister grin upon her face. Her outfit was the next thing Ginny noticed, one that made her eyes widen and sent a shiver straight to her pussy.

It was very unconventional, even for Hermione. Her curvy, chubby body had been squeezed into a set of black latex lingerie, paired with a pair of black latex elbow gloves and thigh-highs. The dark, smooth material shined in the dim light of the barn, stretching over her skin and pinching her blubbery flesh in ways that her look all the more alluring. Holes in the shapes of love hearts had been cut out around her nipples, belly and pussy, leaving them exposed to the open air. The latex pinched her arse-cheeks and squeezed around her bulging tits. She looked like a dominatrix out of Ginny's guiltiest of wet dreams. And now the young redhead was at her mercy.

Ginny tried to ask what was going on but, to her horror, those words were not what came out of her mouth.

"Moo?"

The colour drained from Ginny's face as she realised what sound she had just made. 'What the hell?!'

"Curious," she heard Hermione whisper deviously. "Very curious,"

"What's going- Moo!" Ginny clamped her mouth shut in horror. There was no way to control it, it just came out of her like a hiccup or a sneeze!

"What's going on? Well, you're currently in a barn-house on the Potter Estate," Hermione said like she was explaining the weather, her evil grin widening. "You see since you acted like such an ungrateful, adulterous cow, Harry and I decided that it was only right to keep you in here from now on!"

"W-Why am I tied up?" Ginny sputtered, her panic rising. "What are you going to do to m- m- moo!"

"Let it out, cow," Hermione teased, "It's only me, after all." Ginny bit her tongue and shook her head, refusing to give her the satisfaction of giving into her new tic. Hermione simply sighed, shaking her head in a patronising manner. "To answer your question, the reason you're in what's called a pillory is because we didn't want you running off. You have a debt to pay, after all, and you're going to pay it whether you want to or not."

"A debt? For what?"

"For what ? How about trying to steal my husband from me in my own house ?" Hermione roared. Ginny winced, shying away from the Potter wife's fury. "As for what we're going to do to you... tell me, Ginny, do you know why cows are typically kept in barns?"

She allowed Ginny to think for a moment, watching with no hidden glee as her prisoner came to a horrible conclusion. Hermione could see the moment the penny dropped with a horrible clang. She heard Ginny's breath hitch in her throat as she slowly looked down at herself.

When Ginny finally saw why her chest felt so much heavier than it should be, she screamed.

Her breasts, once a small handful, had somehow ballooned overnight into eye-boggling, bra-busting, mouth-watering mommy milkers. Each tit was several times bigger than her head, heavy and sloshing like balloons filled with liquid. Her nipples were thick and puffy, throbbing in the open air and dripping milk that pattered onto the barn floor like a leaky faucet.

"What- WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?!" Ginny cried, flailing against her constraints, which only served to make her body jiggle and sway uselessly.

"Oh calm down," Hermione replied, "I think it's a remarkable improvement. That potion really does work wonders, just like it did for me."

"Potion?" Ginny trembled. "You mean the Draught of Devotion? Yeah, I saw it! I know what you're doing to Harry!"

"Oh, you really are stupid, aren't you? Hermione laughed. "I know you found the potion. I knew you wouldn't be able to help yourself, that's why I left the door open in the first place."

Ginny's blood froze. Her left her stomach sinking into her feet as she quickly realised the trap that she had walked right into.

"Naughty Ginny, sneaking around our home, rifling through our possessions, drinking potions on a whim." Hermione tutted. "As you've probably guessed, that was not the Draught of Devotion, though it certainly doesn't help your case that you were willing to drink it anyway. Thought you could seduce my husband before you left, could you?"

"I'm- I'm sorry-"

"I don't doubt that. Sorry, for being caught, that is. You would have stolen my husband without a second thought, wouldn't you? Robbed my babies of a father without a hint of regret, WOULDN'T YOU?!"

Ginny flinched away from Hermione's bellowing, unable to reply.

"Such a shame that you accidentally drank the wrong potion then, isn't it?" Hermione smiled sweetly "Turns out the Draught of Devotion and the Holstaur potion look very similar. And with just a hint of refinement and a bit of Harry's essence, its results can appear in less than 24 hours. Ah, the wonders of science."

Ginny closed her eyes, wallowing in despair when suddenly she felt Hermione's latex fingers pressed against the skin on her belly. She squeaked as she felt her playing with something small and very sensitive .

"These are new," Hermione's voice remarked. "Looks like the potion really went all out with you." Ginny looked down past her tits towards her tummy where, to her shock and dismay, she saw four long, throbbing nipples, surrounded by a patch of pink, making her belly resemble a large udder. "Mine are so little and are only for show but yours look much more developed. I wonder if they really work. I guess we'll find out."

Hermione clicked her fingers and immediately several house elves appeared around their mistress' new cow. The house elves began to surround her, two of them holding large industrial pumps, along with four other wielding smaller, identical ones.

"What're those?"

"Now, now, you're a smart girl," Hermione cooed. "I'm sure you can put two and two together."

As the elves brought the pumps ever closer, Ginny noticed that each pump had tubes on the end. Her eyes followed them all the way to a group of towering metal containers standing in the corner. The silos stood as tall as the rafters, fitted with pressure gauges and a glass viewing window with increments of measurement. Ginny's heart froze before pumping even faster, a cold sweat condensing on her skin.

"I can't very well sell my own milk, can I?" Hermione continued. "I'm a Lady of a prestigious house, after all, I'm above such things. Besides, I don't have the time to make enough milk to sell and more importantly, I couldn't possibly deprive my boys of their milky goodness. It keeps them big and strong. If only there was someone else whose milk I could use instead?"

As if to prove her point, the Lady Potter reached forward and grabbed one of Ginny's gargantuan tits between her gloved fingers, caring not for the girl's feelings or dignity. As Hermione squeezed, Ginny felt a pressure in her tits making its ways outwards towards her nipple.

It was an intense tingling, building and building in a matter of seconds like a tiny orgasm in her tits. Hermione's fingers kept yanking at her boob, kneading and squeezing without mercy, until suddenly a great spurt of milk shot out from her engorged nipples.

Ginny desperately bit her tongue to contain her piercing scream. An orgasmic shiver ran through her entire body, rippling the soft, blubbery sea of her body in luscious waves across her belly, her thighs and her arse.

Hermione captured the milk in her latex palm, a small white puddle contrasting nicely against the black. Her devilish tongue, honed from practice in the art of worshipping cock, slurped at the mixture in her hand. The temptress maintained eye contact with Ginny as she licked the last creamy remnants from her chubby yet surprisingly deft fingers.

"Mmm," she moaned, her plump bimbo lips twisting into small, evil smirk. "Your milk is extra tasty. Yes, I think it will do nicely."

With that, Hermione nodded and stood above her. Ginny's head swirled around, seeing the small troop of elves closing in on all sides. Her fate was slowly encroaching and there was nothing she could think to do but beg.

"No, Hermione, please-" she cried but her friend merely laughed.

"You wanted to be a part of Harry's life," Hermione grinned. "Now you get to be his golden goose. Earn your keep, so to speak."

Ginny felt a pair of house-elves align two larger pumps with each of her massive tits, the ends touching the tips of her huge, puffy nipples that were still dripping beads of creamy milk. Further down her body, she felt four smaller ones poking her udders, ready to be attached and secured.

Despite her horror, her fat pussy was soaking with juices, dribbling arousal down her shaking thighs.

"You're going to be hooked up to this moo- machine for the rest of your life, pumping out milk for us to sell by the gallon. And the best part? Now that you're a Holstaur like me, you'll probably enjoy it."

Ginny cried out as each pump was attached, her bulbous nipples forced into the cold metal confines and squeezed so tightly that sent shivers running up her spine. She almost blacked out from the sensation as her sensitive buds were trapped in a vice-like grip.

"L-Let me go!" Ginny yelled, tears brimming in her eyes as she wriggled against the near-painful pinching on her breasts, "I promise, me and Fleur, w- we'll you alone, we won't tell anyone! We'll – m-moo–!"

"Hmm… no," Hermione giggled as she ran her gloved hand across Ginny's cheek, eliciting a whimper. "I'm never going to let you leave, either of you, not after you tried to take away moo- my Harry!"

The Lady Potter marched to a control panel on the wall, her finger hovered over a large, green button. Ginny stared at her friend, her eyes wide, wet and begging.

"Hermione... please..."

"Don't worry, poppet," Hermione soothed in with a cold, sadistic voice. "Once it starts, you'll never want it to stop."

With that, Hermione pressed the button and the pumps whirred to life. Immediately the pumps began sucking so hard on her nipples Ginny thought they might come off. A spike of pleasure erupted in her tits from the abuse.

"AHHH!" Ginny moaned, gritting her teeth as she felt a blissful suction on her nipples

As the pump kept sucking, a comfortable pressure, a fullness, emerged in the front of her tits just beneath her nipples. The pressure kept building until before she knew it the dam burst. A rapid flow of pure white milk began spurting out of her enlarged nipples. The redhead cow almost blacked out from the sheer orgasmic pleasure erupting in her nubs. Her eyesight clouded over, she stared dizzily as lights danced over her sight, her mind turned to wool.

It wasn't only in her tits that she was subjected to that satisfying pressure, but her lower stomach as well as the four bloated nipples that made up her udder. The same explosive spurt of liquid erupted from each, not as much as her mammoth tits, but still enough to provide a steady flow of milk.

"Wow! They really do work!" she heard Hermione marvel. "This will increase your milk output tremendously. Oh, we're never getting rid of you."

The Lady Potter circled Ginny, admiring her form and delighting in the little moans and gasps she made. All the while the industrial pumps kept drawing milk from Ginny's bountiful tits, spurt after messy spurt, shiver by shiver. From between her heavy eyelids, Ginny watched her creamy produce run down the nest of tubes and fall into the containers. Judging by the rate of milk that was being sucked out of her, and the sheer size and number of the barrels around her, she was going to be here for a long time.

"Moo! H-Hermione, let me go, p-please!" Ginny cried out, hoping beyond hope that Hermione would have mercy. "I don't- urgh! I don't w- want this!"

Her desperate words sparked a glint in Hermione's eyes. The Potter brood cow reached towards her prisoner and roughly grabbed her chubby cheeks, smooshing them together.

"You should've thought about that before you and Fleur tried to steal my husband from me," she replied with a small huff. Her fingers released Ginny's face, instead venturing upwards, running through her frazzled red hair sending shivers through Ginny's body.

The young woman's cries of fear slowly melted into wails of despair and pleasure as the pump continued to work its luscious torture on the poor girl.

The more milk that was guzzled from her tits and udder, the more the pain faded away into a distant memory, replaced by an overwhelming pleasure. With every drop, she began to enjoy it more and as the containers filled higher and higher, the better it felt to have her titties squeezed and pumped without mercy.

The pleasure increased over time, until every spurt felt like a mini-orgasm. Her composure abandoned long ago, Ginny's moans and gasps turned into a consistent low moan, drool leaked from between her puffy lips, her eyes rolled into her head. Sweat coated her chubby body, her skin blushed and wet. Her whole body felt like it was on fire.

The cow smiled vacantly. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth.

"It looks like you're really getting into it," Hermione's voice echoed in her ear.

The Potter cow strutted to the young Weasley's massive behind, serving a loud smack to her arse that echoed throughout the barn. Ginny loudly gurgled and pleasure spiked through her. Her pussy spasmed in surprise, feeling so very empty. The cow looked around finally noticing that she had indeed grown a cow's tail, much like Hermione's, but thicker and more unkempt with red fur along its length.

"This cunt is soaking, you dirty whore," Hermione grinned, gripping a chunk of Ginny's ocean of arse cheek. "Do you like having your fat tits sucked for all they're worth? I bet we could bring in a real bull and you'd take his cock like a champ. Speaking of which-"

Hermione gestured over to someone Ginny couldn't see. The cow's heart froze in her chest. For a moment she genuinely thought they were bringing in a real life bull, but instead of hooves on the dirt, she heard the scraping of wood and metal. A small frame was moved to her rear and the shine of lubricated latex caught her eye.

"This is a replica of Harry's cock," Hermione announced, presenting the pillar of black plastic, "specially made just for you. It's nowhere near as big as the original, but it's good enough for a slut like you, right?"

Ginny gasped as she felt plastic nudging against her pussy lips. The delirious cow couldn't help but shake her hips, begging the dildo to move into her sopping cunt and Hermione was happy to oblige. The Holstaur tapped her wand to the dildo and the instrument immediately pierced into her. The cow lowed as her pussy exploded with pleasure. The dildo penetrated all the way to her cervix only to move back and forth with a startling speed. Her chubby bovine body rippled and jiggled from the abuse, the constant assault paired with the orgasmic pressure of the pumps turning her brain to mush.

The barn sank away. Hermione's presence disappeared from her mind. Everything except the pleasure in her tits, her udders, her pussy, left her mind. Every dream she was once had, of Quidditch and a career, of climbing the social ladder, of proving herself as more than just the Weasley's only daughter, was fucked out of her. The only thing left that could be shaken was her love for Harry, but even that desire had been corrupted .Now, she wanted nothing more than to be used by him and his house, to be a slave under the Potter name.

She wanted to be drained of milk all the while being plundered by his fat cock, a cock that was somehow bigger than the slab of plastic that was reducing her into a brainless slut. She wanted to be reamed, to be violated, to be abused and dominated. She was nothing, she was a stupid, fat cow, a brood-bitch for whoever wanted her. For Harry, her master, her love. God she wanted him, this dildo simply wouldn't do!

Her only purpose was to be milked and fucked and bred, over and over again in an endless cycle. All she wanted was to take Harry's cock and give her milk in return and maybe, if she was lucky, to bear future generations of dairy cows like her. Oh she would love to fall pregnant with a Potter baby of her own, to grow heavy and gravid, to feel her belly grow and her tits inflate even more with milk for her children to feed on. It was a desire that she never knew she had but now it was in her brain and she needed it more than ever. She needed it! She- She-

Just as she was about to crash over into a blinding orgasm, the dildo stopped and pulled away completely. Ginny cried out in despair, wiggling her obese hips, begging for release. Even the pumps began to wind down, leaving her body completely with sensation. That was when her captor finally reappeared.

"Sorry, poppet," Hermione whispered, planting a kiss on her cheek, "it's been charmed, I'm afraid. Every time you get close to finishing, it'll cease all stimulation. My research suggests that a Holstaur on the brink of orgasm will produce up to 30% more milk than in her normal state. I want to use you to test that theory. I hope you don't mind."

The poor cow lowed miserably, pulling against the restraints hopelessly. Her pussy lips spasmed with need. In a moment of crisis, the cow begged, begged the dildo to return, begged Hermione to let her finish. Hermione simply watched, running a finger across her body, rubbing her own engorged nipples that were similarly leaking rivulets of milk down the black latex she was wearing.

The pleasure in Ginny's cunt faded away as a potential orgasm was lost and she cried real tears. That is until the dildo began to move again, pistoning into her with the same ferocity as it had before, and she smiled. She cried out in ecstasy, thanking her mistress again and again for her mercy. The pumps continued on with their milking, pulling at her nubs and forcing milk from her tits and it was still as pleasurable as it had been not moments before. Her nipples were sucked and milked guzzled from her udders, plunging Ginny into a constant orgasm that turned her mind into soup.

All she could think about was the pleasure she was receiving at that moment, the orgasm that she was eagerly waiting to experience. She forgot that it would end before she received that orgasm, she forgot the cruelty of her new owner. All she knew was she was a cow getting fucked and milked and all was right in the world.

"There's a good girl," she heard Hermione whisper, patting her head, drawing a happy moo from her stupid mouth.

Ginny was so caught up into her happy little world, she didn't notice Hermione clicking her fingers and a red sharpie appearing in her hand. She twirled the pen in her hand and grinned deviously.

"Just so everyone knows who you belong to," Hermione explained.

Ginny felt the tip of the pen gliding across the skin of her arse cheeks, her back, her udders, her tits, all across her body as Hermione adorned her with a few choice words. A 'brood slut' here and a 'milk taps' there, a nice big 'property of Potter' across her shoulders, of course. Her favourite was a finely detailed tramp stamp of her own design, a uterus inside a heart with a lightning bolt down the middle. The symbol of a Potter breeding sow.

Finally, the cherry on top. Hermione faced her new cow, looked into her dull eyes, and wrote 'whore' across her chubby cheeks, with her fat, drooling donut of a mouth as the 'o'. She stood up admired the graffiti'ed slut, imagining permanent ink replacing the stains of sharpie and she smiled, feeling her cunt drool.

"Mmm, you're perfect," Hermione moaned. Ginny felt her gloved hands pinch her cheeks and suddenly felt Hermione's lips on her own. Ginny moaned, feeling their plush lips smearing drool across their faces, hearing her mistress moan and squeak at every new sensation. She felt a spark in her heart as she realised she would do anything for her mistress and where once was jealously and hatred now flourished whorish devotion.

Hermione pulled back with a heavy breath, strings of saliva still connecting their dick-sucking bimbo lips.

"Welcome to your new life, my little cow."

Ginny moo'ed brainlessly, wriggling her hips as the dildo continued to pound her brain into mush. She was a little cow. The bestest little cow that ever lived.

Her mistress took one last look at her new cow and sighed. As much as she would love to spend more time breaking Ginny, Hermione knew that it was time to go back inside to meet with her Master. Hopefully she would be able to catch him in the final act of their glorious plan.

Before she departed, Hermione gave Ginny one last sloppy kiss, this time on the cow's puffy bimbo lips. She gave her tongue a cheeky lick, leaving a mess of drool and saliva across the brood-bitch's face.

"Don't worry, I'll be back at some point. The elves are trained to keep you fed and watered. Let's see how long you can last before that useless brain of yours finally snaps."

With one final giggle, Hermione stood up and walked away. She took one last look at her new livestock and closed the barn door, leaving Ginny to her fate.

Fleur awoke in her pristine bedchambers that morning in a sombre mood. The first thing she saw as she got out of bed was her packed suitcase beside a set of clean clothes, ready for the journey back to the Burrow.

Today was the day that she and Ginny would be leaving Potter Manor. Though originally they had only intended to stay for a few days, Fleur now found herself wishing that she had more time. The days had passed so quickly but she knew it was because those days were filled with happy memories.

Now, however, those happy memories will be coming to an end. Now, she would be returning back to the outside world; back to Molly and her constant badgering; back to an empty house by the sea; back to a life of waiting for a real family that would never come. Fleur wished that she could have her own Potter Manor, her own Harry, her own baby James to love and care for. Oh, what a life that would be...

The young Veela got dressed in silence, resizing her clothes to compensate for the shrink in the wash. Honestly, she could swear it was only getting worse, even with the adjustments it was a battle to get her waistband to fit nicely around her hips, pinching into her flesh and making her ass look a mile wide. Her top as well just did not want to cooperate with her tits, bunching up around them and making them look way too big, like two watermelons on her chest. It was all a trick of her mind of course, there was no way that her tits and ass had grown that much since just last week. No, obviously it was a... trick of the light, yes. The outrageously curvaceous hourglass figure standing in the mirror (with its meaty, child-bearing hips and mammoth pair of busty tits) was just her imagination... just her imagination...

Turning her mind to more important matters, Fleur quickly made one final check of her luggage, closed the case and called for the elves to have it taken to the front hall, which they promptly did. She then left her bedchambers, taking one last forlorn look at the room before crossing the hallway and knocking on Ginny's door.

Several minutes passed and there was no reply. She knocked a few more times before pushing the door open only to find an empty room. Confused, she searched through the drawers and found nothing. It was like Ginny was never there.

Fleur searched all across the Manor, in all of the bedrooms, the bathrooms, the living room, the entrance hall, the kitchens and the gardens. Ginny was nowhere to be seen. This was all very confusing. Weren't they supposed to be leaving together? Where could Ginny possibly be hiding?

After nearly an hour of furious searching, Fleur thought that it would be best to try and find Harry – partly because if anyone would be able to find someone on the property, it would be him, and partly so she could spend just a little bit more time with him before she had to leave.

It only took her a few moments to stumble her way into the dining room, where she found the Lord of the Manor was sitting at the head of the table, reading a sheet of paper in his hand and enjoying his breakfast of fruit covered in honey and yoghurt paired with a large glass of milk. He wore only a burgundy silk dressing gown, open around his burly chest, showing off the expanse of his pectorals. His hair was frazzled as if he had just stepped out of the shower, his glasses perched on his nose as he read through a small stack of papers.

Clearing her throat to give Harry the indication she was in the room, Fleur suddenly found herself shivering under the gaze of his curious eyes, and to her shame, she felt herself dripping with excitement.

"Ah, Fleur, good morning" Harry smiled as he dropped his cutlery onto the plate.

"Uhm..." Fleur murmured, finding it a bit hard to think at the moment as she stared at the man of her guiltiest and deepest desires. Eventually, however, she remembered what she came here for. "Do you... know where Ginny eez? I cannot find 'er anywhere."

A part of her didn't want Harry to know where Ginny was, just so she could stay in his presence just a little bit longer. To her disappointment, Harry nodded his head, but what she heard next made her feel like she could sing with joy.

"Ginny left for the Burrow maybe an hour ago." Harry explained and glanced towards the large grandfather clock at the edge of the room. "Did she not tell you she was leaving today?"

"Hourra!" Fleur whispered, then suddenly blushed prettily as she realised that she'd spoken a bit too loud. She cleared her throat. "I, uh, I mean... non, she did not."

"Huh, that's peculiar. Oh well, it's a shame to see her go so soon."

"Oui," Fleur lied, "very sad."

"Yes," Harry nodded. "I'm glad you're still here, though. I feel like we've really gotten to know each other recently. We're glad to have you here."

Fleur blushed.

"Thank you," she replied bashfully, like a schoolgirl with a silly crush. The young woman all but skipped over to his side, reaching out a hand to stroke his broad shoulders. "It 'elps zat you and 'Ermione 'ave made me feel so welcome 'ere."

"It's our pleasure," Harry smirked as her fingers danced over his dressing gown. He cheerfully gestured to the table. "Come, sit down. Your breakfast is ready."

Fleur blinked and eagerly obeyed, searching for her plate, however something was amiss.

"Zere are no seats?" she noted in confusion.

Harry gave Fleur a roguish sort of smirk that made her loins burn with need.

"There is one." He leaned back in his chair and opened his legs to present his lap. Immediately, Fleur blushed and her knees shook. The bottom of her mouth filled with drool as a waft of pure masculine stench reached her nose and her pussy dribbled into her panties.

"You are sitting in eet," she whispered in an almost scandalised tone, to which Harry shrugged.

"Yes, I am," his gravelly baritone voice gently whispered. "Is that a problem?"

Fleur quickly shook her head.

"Non," she sputtered.

Fleur knew that what Harry was offering was entirely improper, that she should refuse and walk away, but her need to be near Harry, to kowtow to his every demand, was so much stronger. She simply couldn't throw away such an opportunity. So, like a puppet on a string, she walked over to the Lord of the House, locking eyes with him and sat herself upon his lap.

The blonde bimbo planted her soft, phat arse on his crotch and took a moment to make herself comfortable by gently grinding herself against him. Once she was firmly seated, she proceeded to dig into the bowl of delicious fruit and yoghurt.

The first mouthful was simply delicious. A hint of salty caramel burst in her mouth, erupted against her taste buds. It was strangely musty, sweet in a peculiar sort of way, one that made her nipples throb and her pussy clench. Something about this gooey, sticky mixture was turning her desire up to eleven. She immediately went in for another bite and this time she savoured the taste.

For a moment she pondered the word to properly describe the taste and for some reason the word she landed upon was erotic. It was an erotic taste, one that made her think of cock and cum and Harry's gorgeous musk. That should have been a warning sign but by this point, Fleur was too far gone to notice.

As the meal went on, Fleur felt something hard pressing up into her arse, something that was unmistakably large, hard and wet . She froze, her eyes wide, her thick lips open in a round, plush pout. A strong aroma of jizz entered her nose and her brain began to mist up, turning into a swirling pool lust.

Her bearings came back to her when she felt a pair of strong, firm hands stroking up and down her thighs, playing with her fat arse-cushions. A soft moan gurgled in the back of her throat.

"Something wrong?" Harry's voice rumbled from behind her, his fingers digging into her plush thighs possessively in a way that made her softly squeal.

With the ease of opening a door, he gently parted her legs, allowing his bulge to ride up closer to her dripping, panty-covered cunt. Fleur whimpered as she fought the urge to grind on his shaft. The fork shook in her hand as it returned to her plate for another helping, however her efforts were stopped by Harry plucking the fork from her grip.

"Allow me."

Fleur sat in disbelief as he gently guided the fork to her waiting mouth. Locking eyes with him once again, she opened her lips and allowed a slice of apple to enter. The apple landed on her tongue, slathering it with yoghurt and she sighed pathetically. Her body felt like jelly under his advances. He could do whatever he wanted to her and she would have neither the strength nor the will to stop him. Not that she would ever want to stop him.

Harry continued to feed her, until her belly was full and her eyelids fluttering. By now, she was lying against his chest, lazily stroking fingers through his messy hair, her senses assaulted by his essence. Once the last dollop of creamy mixture was past her lips, Harry offered her the glass of milk.

"Don't forget your drink," he murmured with the voice of sin.

Fleur eagerly clutched the cool glass and downed it. Immediately she felt her insides glow. She drowned in the familiar taste and greedily gulped. Her body cried out for more, until the glass was completely empty and she was left a quivering, horny mess.

"Good meal?" Harry asked and Fleur nodded.

"Oui. Magni... Magnif..." The word disappeared in the daze of her mind.

"Magnifique?"

"Oui, merci," she replied, her face flushed and shamefully cloying. It was like she was thinking with only half of her brain left. The rest was lost somewhere, drenched in whorish desires that she hoped Harry would never find, should he think so much less of her.

It didn't help how she was draped over him, her clothes in such a ragged state that even the slightest movement would reveal herself to him. Her shirt was open, baring a valley of cleavage above the tents around her diamond-hard nipples. Her panties were soaked, peeking out from beneath her bunched up skirt.

It was all so improper. She had to leave before she did something she regretted, like guide Harry's hand to her eager twat while she twisted and played with her waiting nipples, all while snogging him with her big, bimbo lips-

She was losing herself. The spike of fear brought her back to Earth and she suddenly sat up.

"Well, I suppose I shall start packing, zen," she announced. She stood up and quickly stepped aside, away from Harry's warm embrace. "I 'ave been 'ere for so long already and I cannot-"

"Wait."

A single word was enough to root her to the spot. The calm authority in his voice made the hairs on her neck stand up straight and quiver of excitement tingle in her loins. Her heard steps approaching from behind and then a hand on her arm, strong but gentle. Fleur allowed herself to be spun around and pulled backwards into his waiting arms, right up against his firm chest.

"Stay." It wasn't a command but she could never disobey. Fleur happily leaned up against, pressing her bountiful bosom into his abdomen and squeezing her curves against his chiselled frame.

Her proximity to him allowed her to take his scent in properly this time. Harry's cock smell wafting up from his crotch, so close now that it was inescapable. His luscious aroma was almost choking in its pungency but the more of it she breathed in, the more she craved it. Over time, that scent had shifted in her mind from something she had politely tolerated to something that she needed, that she wanted more than anything. A scent that made her want to submit to his cock like a good little whore.

The french Veela was blushing up a storm. Her pussy was soaking her panties with cum. The delightful buzzing in her titties intensified until she felt something wet and warm seeping into her bra. Her body was calling out for her new master and she had no choice but to give in to the call.

"Listen, 'Arry," she said meekly, "I... 'ave to tell you something."

Harry raised his eyebrow.

"Oh? What is it?" He asked, feigning ignorance.

Fleur's blush deepened.

"Staying 'ere with you and 'Ermione zese past two weeks 'as been wonderful. Zis 'ouse eez amazing, ze food eez so tasty and James eez a leetle angel. I... I do not want to leave. I am 'appy 'ere and I... I need you..."

Harry gazed down at her and carefully stroked a stray hair from her face. Fleur nearly swooned from the gentle contact.

"You need me? How so?" he said. He placed his hand on her clothed arse and gently caressed it, causing her to moan softly at his touch.

"I..." Fleur gasped, grasping at his robe, "I need you... to fuck me!"

The words came tumbling out of her mouth as instinct but she knew it was the truth. Harry smirked, fisting a chunk of her hair, pulling her head back whilst grasping at her beach-ball sized arse-cheek.

"Then beg for it, Fleur," he growled into her skin. "Tell me exactly how you want me."

Fleur shivered, her pussy spasm and spurts of milk erupted into her bra.

"Please fuck me, 'Arry!" she gasped. "Fuck me like a stupid 'ore. Let me suck your balls and drink your cum from your big, fat cock. Take me!"

Harry smiled as that was exactly what he had planned to do.

With a flick of his wrist, his wand appeared in his hand. Soon after, Fleur's meagre clothing was ripped to shreds, falling from her body in scraps and Harry was left to appreciate Fleur's new and improved form.

It was quite the departure from the body that first stepped through the wards not two weeks ago. Her body was once lithe and sleek, like a cat, curvy but still thin and delicate. Now, Fleur's body was still curvy but more so than it had ever been before, than any other woman Harry had ever seen before aside from Hermione. Her face still retained those sharp and shining cheekbones, her hair was still fair and luscious, her skin still smooth and perfect. Little else had remained so unchanged.

The most prominent new additions were a pair of perfect, teardrop breasts, each several times bigger than her head and dripping with milk from round, throbbing nipples that were begging to be sucked dry. Despite their weight, each one sat soft and taught atop her chest, maintaining a gorgeous shape even at their ludicrous size. They were so big, so magnificent, that Harry almost forgot that the rest of her body existed – and what a lovely body it was, with a plump belly and thick, chunky thighs - that there was still more of his property to inspect.

He twirled his finger and Fleur turned on the spot, allowing him to see her back-side. In doing so, she exposed a sight that made his cock twitch and peeked out from his dressing gown, hard as stone ready to fuck.

Her ass was ginormous, two heavy cheeks of caked-up booty that jiggled and swayed before him. Fleur was the perfect definition of a slut, the epitome of a PAWG, even though it would take the world another 15 years to invent the concept. It was an arse that Harry wanted to squeeze and slap and play with for days on end. He thought about spanking it until it was red from the abuse, how it might squash and ripple as he thrust his cock into her, ravaging her cunt and filling her up.

He placed a hand on her shoulder blade, bending her at the waist, making her soft stomach bunch up into a ring of blubber around her waist. Her hips were wider than her shoulders, thick, meaty and perfect for bearing as many children as he desired. Between her legs he saw her fat pussy lips poking out, soaking wet and ready for him to push inside. It was made for fucking, crying out for his monster cock to claim it as his own.

Everything about her was made for his cock. Hermione was his breeding cow, his perfect baby-making cowslut, while Fleur was sex incarnate. He couldn't wait until her belly was full of his cum, until it was round and heavy with his child and her tits sloshing with milk to feed them.

His cock had abandoned the confines of his gown and was hovering dangerously close to her sopping cunt. It was an imposing piece of stud-meat, easily twelve inches in length – it had grown a lot, thanks to Hermione's milk. He could feel the heat from her slit on the tip of his cock, but Harry refrained. He wanted something else first, to christen his new slut.

Before Fleur could back onto his breeding staff, Harry grabbed hold of her hair and pulled her back up into his chest. The Veela slut moaned and panted into his face before he leaned forward and claimed her large pillowy lips. The two snogged viciously, their hands pawing at each, gripping into their flesh, exploring each other unabashedly.

Once Harry was satisfied, he turned Fleur around and pushed her to her knees, so that she was directly facing the head of his cock. The smell of his breeding meat met her nostrils and her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Her mouth hung open and her tongue flopped out. Her mind all but switched off, her higher brain functions surrendering to her whorish lust.

Before her brain could turn itself back on, Harry had pulled her head forward and forced her onto his shaft, pushing past her bimbo lips and straight into her mouth. If the smell was intense, the taste was orgasmic. Fleur felt her pussy squirt onto the varnished floor and her chunky thigh quivered with arousal. Her tongue wiped across his dirty cock and she moaned at the taste. She suckled like a dull animal, growling and lowing in the back of her throat as more and more of his shaft pushed into her.

Before long he was using her throat as a fleshlight, fucking into her face with no regard to her dignity. Saliva and cum caked her face and pubic hairs littered the sides of her mouth. Her hair that she had prided in always being lush and perfectly composed, was now all over the place, bunched in his grip and soaking with sweat.

The noble Fleur Delacour, renowned beauty of the Wizarding World and proud daughter of the aristocracy, was reduced to nothing more than a cock-sucking whore, forced to choke on superior Potter dick like it was her only mission in life.

After several sloppy minutes of face-fucking and dick-sucking, Harry pulled the French slut off of his cock, shooting a long thick load onto her face. Long streams of cum landed on her lips and across her cheeks, trailing down her chin and pooling on her tits. Ropes and ropes of ball-juice shot into her hair, soaking it through and dulling its platinum-gold sheen. It wasn't long before her entire complexion was glazed in a layer of sticky, musty jizz.

All the while Fleur held her mouth open, hoping to get as much of Harry's precious spunk in her mouth as she could. In her mind it was a delicacy, a delight that tasted better than treacle. She had finally found the source of the caramel flavour that she had fallen in love with and she was determined to have as much as Harry's magnificent balls could churn out.

By the time Harry shot his last load, Fleur was dripping with cum and looking more like a back alley whore than a rich, French noblewoman. Harry took a moment to admire his work while Fleur was still recovering, before he pulled her right back into crotch, smothering her into his dirty cock as if her face were a napkin. Fleur didn't complain, nor did she try to resist, instead she began obediently lapping at his cock like it was a lollipop. She licked and swallowed and savoured every ounce of cum and grime that she could get, until she was sure it might permanently stain her tongue. Harry sighed from above, enjoying Fleur's tongue bath immensely, almost as much as the satisfaction of knowing he had turned the once proud and haughty witch, his Triwizard competitor, into a desperate, depraved slut.

The pair were so lost in their passions that they didn't notice a third person enter the dining room until she was standing right next to them.

"Wow," she gasped, running her gloved fingers up and down her husband's chest, "you really have done a number on her. I must say, it's quite the improvement."

Fleur's eye shot wide open at the sound of the newcomer's voice. She yelped, fighting to scrape the cum from her face, shielding herself from Hermione's leering gaze.

This whole scenario wasn't helped by the fact that Hermione was currently dressed in a leather get up that would make a dominatrix blush. It was the hottest thing that Fleur had ever seen, especially on a body as luscious and curvy as Hermione's.

"Ermione!" she squealed. "Eet- eet's not what eet looks like!"

Her panic was tempered slightly when instead of shouting or screaming, she heard a teasing laugh.

"Don't bother," she smiled. "I put him up to it. By the way, you missed a bit."

Then, to Fleur's shock, Hermione leaned down until they were face to face and proceeded to lick all up the side of her face. Her tongue torturously travelled across her skin, collecting a mouthful of Harry's cum, before she stood back, audibly swallowing the delicious. Fleur stared at her from her place on the floor, utterly confused and overwhelmed with lust.

"Aww, look at her," Hermione cooed. "So cute. Do catch up dear. We know about your plan with Ginny. We have for a while."

Fleur felt the breath leave her lungs. After all this time, they'd always known her true intentions for being here. She didn't know how she could bear to even look at them, now that they saw her for the liar that she was. They'd probably demand she leave immediately, forbid her from ever seeing the Manor again. She would never see James again, never again be near Harry and his big fat horse-cock, never taste all that lovely cum.

"I'm sorry," she sputtered on the verge of tears. "I- I didn't want to-"

Her babbling was interrupted as she was lifted on to her feet by Harry's strong hands.

"It's okay," he said in his soothing baritone. "We're not angry at you. Ginny on the other hand... Well, we're dealing with Ginny as we speak. As for you, we're giving you a choice."

"If you want, you can walk out of those doors right now, with no consequences," Hermione explained. "We'll reverse everything that has been done to you, and we won't press any charges against you. Or, you can stay with us, be a part of our family and we'll give you everything you've ever wanted."

As she spoke, Harry's hand came to rest on her stomach, gently stroking the soft skin of her chubby belly.

"Imagine how it would feel to raise a son or a daughter of your own," he offered, his emerald eyes burning into her with a primal desire that set her loins ablaze.

Her face flushing brightly, Fleur turned to Hermione who was looking at her warmly with her hand on top of her own belly, cradling the life that was safely growing inside.

"We'll give you all the babies you could ever care for, Fleur," she smiled radiantly, "mine and yours. A few months from now your tummy will be nice and full with babies. Nice and big and round from being bred over and over again by our strong, hung bull. We can be brood-sisters, grow together, give birth together. You'll never be alone again."

Fleur blinked vacantly, her mind casting itself forward, imagining herself months from now, kneeling at Harry's feet, cradling a round, pregnant belly in her hands as a pair of large, engorged titties lay leaking rivers of milk, her face and cunt covered in stinky cum. It was everything that she had ever wanted and more, and the best part was it was in reach.

"You can choose what want you from this arrangement," Harry voice caressed her ear drums, rumbling in her lust-addled mind, "whether it's as my consort, my maid, my whore or my slave. It's up to you."

Tell us what you want, Fleur," Hermione chimed in, "and we can make it a reality."

"I want…" Fleur began but the words paused in her throat.

Instead of continuing her speech, and probably mucking it up, she leaned against Harry's broad body and pressed her plush, red lips upon his. His hands wrapped around her body, squeezing and fondling everything he could reach and Fleur let him. Her body was his to play with after all.

"I want to be yours," she gasped as the kiss ended, before strutting over to Hermione and bringing into a similarly deep and passionate kiss. She pressed her soft body against Hermione's rotund form, rubbing herself against her new lover. The kiss ended with a wet, sloppy smushing of lips. Long and shining trails of salvia connected them in passion.

"I want to belong to you both," she moaned. The Veela turned to Harry, falling to her knees, her eyes wild and pleading. "Please, 'Arry! Make me your Veela fuck'ore! Make me your sex-pet! Breed me again and again with your cock! As many babies as you can give me! I need eet!"

Harry smirked at Fleur's impassioned outcry, catching his wife's eye with a devious look.

"Sounds pretty conclusive to me," he said and Hermione agreed, helping the young woman to her feet.

"Oh, Harry, we forgot," Hermione gasped theatrically. "Fleur, what about Bill? Surely you'd return to him rather than spend more time with us?"

"Beel?" Fleur laughed, tilting her head to the side rather cutely. "Zat wimp? Non, I never want to see 'im again. 'E wasted ze chance to truly make me 'is and now 'e never weel. From now on, I need a big, strong man, like you, 'Arry, someone 'o eez willing to knock me up and keep me pregnant."

"What if we told you that you can be rid of him forever?" Hermione asked, presenting her the sheets of paper that Harry had been reading at the breakfast table.

"What eez eet?" she asked.

"A way out," Harry replied to which Fleur stared back at him with wide eyes.

"By signing this you'll pledge yourself as a property of House Potter for the rest of your life," Hermione explained in her typical fashion. "When that happens all other legal bonds are severed, aside from your heritage as a Delacour. Your marriage will be annulled and you'll be bound to the family until we decide to set you free. And there's nothing that Bill can do to stop it."

In her current mindset, Fleur could only admit to understanding half of those words, most the short ones, but she got the general gist. She would become a thing for them to use, a Delacour in name and blood only. She would no longer be an independent, free woman, she would become only what the Potters allowed her to be.

"We did draft a copy that didn't require your signature, as penance for your conspiracy to line theft with Ginny," Harry added, "however we decided against it. We want this to be your choice. Just sign here and you'll never have to see Bill or the Weasleys again."

Fleur grabbed the quill as fast as she could. Without a moment of hesitation she signed her name at the bottom in a scrawl. The ink glowed and she felt a tingle erupt through her body. Her wedding ring dissolved in a flash of light. There was no turning back now..

Harry and Hermione smiled at her, their faces warm and welcome. It was done.

Suddenly, Fleur felt something lock around her neck, something cold and solid. Her hands reached up and found the spotless surface of a metal collar. A ring hand from the front, attached to a chain that lay in Harry's hand. She looked down to see that the words 'Property of Potter' had tattooed above her womb in stark black ink..

"Now, slut," Harry commanded as he yanked the chain. Fleur stumbled on her feet, the slightest hint of Harry's authority over her made nipples rock hard. "I think it's about time we celebrate. Present yourself for your new owners."

Fleur was more than happy to oblige. Like a good slut, she eagerly jumped onto the table and laid on her back, opening her legs and displaying herself to her master. By now her pussy was sopping wet, dripping with arousal. Harry's nostrils flared as he took in the scent of Fleur's desire, the smell of a bitch who needed to be bred, and with a small growl of dominance, disrobed, revealing his nude body.

And, Fleur drooled as soon as she saw Harry's cock swing into view, long and thick and so very hard, dripping with pre cum in anticipation for fucking his new sow. She could feel the room rumble with every step he took, the smell of his bulging cock drawing ever closer, making her ready for what was about to happen. Her love tunnel ached with emptiness.

"You ready Fleur?" he asked as he placed the tip of his womb-breaker upon Fleur's needy lower lips. The Veela slut cried out whorishly.

"Oui! Oh god, oui!"

Having heard all the consent he would ever need ,Harry gladly shoved his length into her cunt. Her greedy lower lips eagerly parted for his unparalleled girth, allowing Harry to fully hilt into her on the first thrust. His cock filled her up so completely, nestling into every inch of her cunt until there was no space left.

Fleur's mind went completely blank as his cock stretched her to the brink. She screamed in ecstasy, her throat making a sound somewhere between an angel's soprano and the lowing of a deranged cow.

It was all too much, more than she had ever experienced before in her life. Her body climaxed under the weight of sheer pleasure, having finally received what she had desired for so long and so much more. Shivers ran through her entire nervous system. Her inner muscles spasmed against Harry's shaft, massaging his length.

"Ah~" He moaned, feeling her tight walls cling to his cock. "Your pussy feels just as good as I imagined. God, we're never letting you go."

Fleur meanwhile could only groan, mumble and gurgle with pleasure as Harry railed her hungry pussy. Her back arched like cupid's bow, her neck craned like a swan, she lowed a lewd and incoherent noise that only served to encourage her lover to be even more merciless with his thrusts.

The Bull Potter sheathed himself in and out of her cunt in rapid rhythm, never letting up even for a moment. Spikes of pleasure wracked her body every second as Fleur barely held onto her sanity. Her whole body jiggled and swayed against the table's surface. Her tits audibly sloshing as they wobbled on her chest, spurting out jets of milks each time she was impaled with dick.

Her eyes fluttered open for a moment, only to see Hermione's face hovering above her, a lewd smile on her face. Before Fleur could reach up and bring her face down into another kiss, her view was obstructed as Hermione lifted her gargantuan mommy milkers towards Fleur's face. The Lady Potter giggled, before she pushed her nipple directly into Fleur's open mouth.

Running purely on instinct now, her higher brain functions gone into hibernation, Fleur started to suckle at Hermione's tit like a newborn babe, taking in more and more of Hermione's magical milk into her body. The pure creamy taste seemed to enhance everything in her body. The heat in her loins, the ache in her tits, only grew more intense. Every gulp seemed to make her body more and more aroused, more and desperate for release, until her entire body felt like it was on fire.

Hermione moaned and Fleur's mouth sucked milks straight from her engorged nipple, her face fixed in an expression of mindless lust. All the while Harry thrust into their new slut again and again, who moaned with every sheathe of his cock, milk splurging from her nipples like a fountain.

They soon fell into a luscious rhythm: thrust, squelch, spurt, moan, thrust, repeat until Fleur's brain was pounded into mush. The French Veela's prospects in life fell into the bin, all she saw before her was a long life with the Potters as their breeding pet. She imagined what her days would look like from that point, whether they would force her to begin every morning cleaning Harry's horse-cock, allowing her slutty fuck-hole to be taken until her bely swelled with ball-juice. Or maybe she would be forced to spend all day on her hands and knees like an animal. All of these things excited her, all of them exacerbated her already desperately horny state into pure lustful insanity.

As if she hadn't had enough, Harry leant down and began to suck from her perky nipples, his talented tongue - honed from many milking sessions with his darling wife – eliciting screams of pleasure from the whore beneath him. Harry's ministrations only served to increase Fleur's pleasure, driving her deeper into the endless abyss, her mind may never climb out of.

With her body suffering an assault of pure ecstasy on three fronts, Fleur's sanity finally gave up the ghost, her mind truly broken, with every thrust reshaping it into a repository for depraved desire. She came and drooled and moaned and came as Fleur the bright, high-born young woman died and Fleur the dumb, horny, Veela cock-slut was born, panting like a bitch in heat.

Even with all this pleasure being forced into her body, the cum-dumpster still felt so very empty. She still harboured a primal need from within her primitive mind, one that only her breeding bull, her master, could give her. Her true purpose, her calling. Her greatest desire.

"Cum in me," she mewled, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist, trapping him in her grasp. "Please, 'Arry. Give me a baby~ Fill me up~ fuck me, own me, breed me~! PLEASE!"

Her unhinged plea was enough to send Harry over the edge. With one final thrust, the bull splurged into her pussy. A geyser of spunk flooded her womb, filling her up completely and drawing another orgasm to rock her frazzled brain. The whore felt her belly tighten as Harry pumped gallons of cum into her, until it began to swell and swell as more and more baby batter was forced out of his cock.

After a solid minute of cumming her little brains out, she was left with a round cum belly, large enough to make her look pregnant. Fleur loved it, she loved feeling her heavy belly pressing down her stomach, filled with her master's seed. Her virile sperm was probably already in the process of inseminating her, taking roots in her vulnerable eggs, breeding her with his spawn, and thought alone was enough to drive her over to one last orgasm. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, her tongue lolled out between her large bimbo lips and her brain went into factory reset.

Fleur lay on the dining room table, moaning into the open air, her head empty other than pleasure. The Veela was out for the count.

Harry spent a few moments relishing in simply being in her tight, silky love tunnel as it milked him for every drop of his gloopy cum. After a while, he pulled out of her soppy, ruddy, slutty cunt, admiring how beautiful it looked after his abuse. So plump and puffy and swollen with desire. A stream of cum cascaded from her hole onto the varnished floor.

With one sow thoroughly fucked and bred, his eyes turned to Hermione, seeking his mate. Despite being those same emerald orbs that Hermione had fallen in love with, there was little of Harry left in. Looking into them now, she saw only a worked up, horny breeding bull whose drive to mate had yet to be sated. Luckily Hermione's Holstaur side was more than ready for him, in fact it was eager for whatever he had in store for her. The power, the steaming sweat, the tensing muscles, it only served to make her even wetter.

Without a moment of hesitation, her bull marched over to her and picked her up by the legs, heaving her rotund body into his arms like it was nothing. Her huge, heavy breasts pressed into his pecs, their faces only inches away. With a low growl – a needy, frustrated sound – Harry lined up his tip with her slit and dropped her onto his hard cock.

Hermione moo'd so loud she was sure the glassware would shatter. Her husband's cock speared into her, smashing against her cervix and causing her brain to short-circuit. Hermione Potter disappeared and Hermione the Holstaur took over, her base instincts running her body as it was penetrated ruthlessly.

The Potters were reunited in carnal bliss, snogging ferociously as they rutted. The pair engaged in the kind of wild, dirty, animalistic sex that only two magically enhanced individual could. Two halves of the same whole, the mate and the alpha, the perfect breeding pair, consummated their union once again, relihsing int their sexuality as they fucked.

When Fleur finally recovered her senses, Harry was still pounding into a ragged Hermione, lowing with need as he smashed into her sopping pussy with a power that would destroy any lesser woman. But Hermione was anything but a lesser woman. She was a Holstaur, her body was made for this kind of abuse, built from the ground up to accept this kind of breeding frenzy from her perfect mate and not only to accept it but to love it.

The Potters had a very long, and very pleasurable breeding session breaking in their new Veela cum-slut. Hermione and Fleur worked together many times to pleasure their master, for under Harry, both women were but bitches made to serve. Harry was the real man of the house, and he fulfilled his duty flawlessly, refusing to stop until every inch of them was stained with his stinky cum.

By the end of the day, the dining hall was a mess. The three offenders could be found lying on a conjured area of pillows. The two woman lay facing each other on their man's broad chest as they dozed together, soaked in their combined sweat and cum,

"So, what deed you do to Ginny, Master?" Fleur asked after a few minutes of quiet relaxation. The chest her head was resting on rumbled as he chuckled.

"Oh, don't ask me," he replied, before smacking his wife's arse cheek in a way that made her entire lower half ripple, "ask Hermione. She was in charge of her."

"We gave her the same potion that turned me into a Holstaur," Hermione explained, "except, the one we gave her was just a little stronger. It sped up the process considerably and even advanced some of the bovine characteristics. She's got more cow in her DNA now than I do and that's saying something."

"But where eez she?" Fleur asked, her face red from imagining her sister-in-law's face on Hermione's ultra-curvy body.

"Well at the moment, she's in the barn outside, chained in stocks and being milked like a dairy cow."

"Ooh, zat sounds soooo 'ot... and yet so cruel."

"Don't worry, pet," Harry said, stroking her hair. "We won't keep her in there for long. It's just to teach her a lesson."

"So, what 'appens once you decide she 'as 'ad enough?"

Harry smirked.

"That's where I come in."

"But enough about her," Hermioned shooed, planting a kiss on her husband's cheek. "Harry, darling, I think my slut-sister hasn't quite had enough of your delicious cum yet and neither have I," she moaned, pushing out her plump bottom lip and batting her eyelashes adoringly.

"Who am I to deprive you?" he sighed, before slapping both their arses. "Come here, my perfect sluts."

The two brood-sisters crawled towards their mate, whose cock was once again rising to its full, looming height. Fleur's eyes widened and her love tunnel gushed, ready for another round on her master's fuck meat. As the two leaned down to clean Harry's cock, Hermione's face snuck around it and their plump lips met in a soft kiss. As Hermione pulled away, her attention drawn to her favourite meal, Fleur heard her softly whisper:

"Welcome to the family~"

Ginny didn't know how many days she'd been kept in the barn. It could have been a week or it could only have been a day. In her semi-lucid, lust-drunk state, she'd lost track of time altogether, minutes and hours blurring together in one long stretch of time in her broken brain. All she knew was that she was still in the ban where Hermione had left left her, still trapped in her 'torture' device – albeit the best comfortable torture device every made. At regular intervals she would be fed from a tube that dispensed her own milk, marking the only sort of schedule that she could quantify.

Somehow, her tits still hadn't run out of milk. They'd managed to fill up ten silos already and there were no signs of stopping now. It was like they had an endless supply. Every time they began to feel light, when the sloshing began to abate and the flow faltered, a burst of energy would wash over her and they would be full again, ready to yield gallons more. endless supply.

She had been kept awake by the endless pumping of the plastic dildo into her sopping twat, the constant tease of an orgasm that would never come. Her mind was in a delirious state between sleep and ecstasy. Her thoughts rolled around in her head like boats on a stormy sea, directionless and barely held together. It really did seem like this would be her life now, forever milked and edged until her brain snapped and she was left a moaning, drooling, mindless cow.

The worst part was that, the longer Ginny was forced to endure, the more and more she began to believe that this was what she deserved. Some primal part of her brain that hadn't been there before – the Holstaur inside her - told her that this was only natural. Her tits were made for milking. Her cunt was made for fucking. She had no other use aside from that. This was all she needed in life.

She didn't want to escape. She didn't even want to sleep. She just wanted to cum! She needed to cum! Why wouldn't this cursed dildo just let her cum already?

If only she could get some actual cock instead of this fake plastic one. One that wasn't charmed to stop just short of her release! Harry's cock would be lovely. She could remember seeing its imprint on his trousers, feeling its length through the fabric, how long and thick it was and how it stank of cum. If it weren't for these restraints, she would happily get down on her knees and take his cock right down her throat, or better yet present herself to him like a good cow, ready to be taken by his horse-cock. Lost in her lovely dream, Ginny imagined her darling Harry mounting her, gasping at the feeling of his huge cock slipping into her love tunnel, ravaging her insides and filling her up with his smelly cum.

She was so close now. Just the thought of Harry's cock was driving her so close to the edge, she could almost taste her orgasm. Her mouth filled with drool, she whined pathetically. She needed this, she needed this...

The dildo left her pussy and Ginny screamed. She tried in vain to free herself, to push her pussy into the dildo, her words slurring into a deranged animalistic sound. began to cry. The fire in her loins faded away and Ginny began to cry. She just wanted to orgasm from her master's cock. That was all she wanted.

Hell, she would give anything just to see someone again, to have someone talk to her, even if it was just to insult her. With her mind deprived of sleep, she had been having almost-dreams, hallucinations really, of Hermione returning to the barn to tease her some more, to kiss her using those soft lips, maybe even force her eat her out. Sometimes it was her pussy, sometimes it was her arse. Ginny couldn't decide which she wanted more.

Her thoughts were interrupted as the barn door opened, allowing a flood of light to pierce the dank darkness. The poor cow heard the heavy footsteps of someone drawing near.

"Ginny, there you are!"

It was a booming, masculine voice, one that she recognised all too well. Could it be...?

"H... Harry? Is that you?"

It was indeed. Like an angel in the flesh, Harry stood above her, dressed in overalls and wearing a face of concern.

"Honestly," he sighed. "What has Hermione done to you?"

With a click of his fingers, Ginny's restraints evaporated, leaving her lying on the barn floor. The pumps were turned off and the tubes retreated from her body. She should be relieved, but after spending so long being hooked up to the pump, the lack of pressure on her tits felt so wrong. The pleasure she felt was replaced with nothing and she felt so cold, so empty, so naked.

"No, no, no!" she cried, sitting on her chubby thighs. "Please, don't stop! I need it!"

The redhead cow looked up at the lord of the house, who was so much taller from down here.

"Now, now, let's not get ahead of ourselves just yet," he said. "I want you clear-headed for what comes next."

'For what comes next?' Why should she care what comes next? Unless it was her of course! Why couldn't he just turned the pumps back on and let her get back to being fucked? God, she needed to cum! Then again, maybe Harry would let her if she was a good girl? With that thought in her mind, Ginny chose to shut her mouth and nod obediently. Harry stared down at her, studying her.

"Do you know why you're here?" he asked.

"Because I'm a slutty little cow and cows belong in barns to be milked and fucked," Ginny replied without hesitation.

There was a moment of silence as Ginny realised what she had just said. The vulgarity of the statement wasn't her concern. She could hardly care that she had made herself out as a needy whore in front of her true love. The real shock was that she wasn't lying. She honestly believed every word that came out of her mouth and that revelation struck a chord within her.

Meanwhile Harry merely gave an amused huff as he leaned closer.

"I mean why did Hermione put you here in the first place?"

Ginny looked up at her master and told the truth once again.

"Because I tried to seduce you like a dumb whore-slut."

Her degrading words only served to make her pussy even wetter. It was like admitting a dirty secret. She could only imagine how good it would feel to hear someone else call her these things, especially Harry.

"Well I wouldn't go that far," Harry shrugged, "but you did try to seduce me in my own bedroom. That wasn't a very good idea, was it?"

Ginny shook her head, making her ears flop into her face.

"No, sir."

"No. Not only that but we know about what you were really doing here. You tried to take me away from Hermione."

"No, no-" she began to bleat, only to be silenced by a look.

"Don't lie to me."

A flood of shame ran through her. Her tail drooped. She was never going to get her cummies now.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she begged, her head hung low until she felt his fingers run her through her hair

"It's alright," he said softly and suddenly she felt much better. "But the point stands, in a court of law, your plan would be considered conspiracy to line-theft. You could face time in Azkaban for it. And if you'd caught us on a bad day, you may very well be facing those charges."

Ginny couldn't remember what those big words meant, but she did recognise 'Azkaban.' Just the sound of the word made her skin prickle with goosebumps. She really didn't want to go there. Even years spent locked up in this barn with no release was nothing compared to spending a single day in Azkaban.

"Please don't send me there," she begged. "I didn't mean to be naughty, I just wanted you for myself! Fleur didn't want to, me and mum forced her! Please, Harry!"

"Don't worry, neither of you are going to Azkaban. But you will need to be punished. This," he gestured to the silos full of milk, " is a good start, but my marriage to Hermione priceless to me. Your transgression can't possibly be paid off purely with milk. If you wish to give us proper reparations for your crime, I need something else from you."

"Anything, Harry..."

From the back of his overalls, Harry presented a long piece of parchment.

"Eternal servitude under the house of Potter," he explained. "You will serve me whenever and however I want. For the rest of your life."

It was clear what kind of servitude Harry was implying. Ginny's mind filled with ideas of how she could be put use, all the ways Harry and Hermione could make her do their bidding, all the while degrading her, treating her like nothing more than a dirty fuck-slave.

"Mmm," she moaned, "yes."

"Yes, what?"

Ginny sat up straight, locking eye contact with him.

"Yes, my Lord. I promise to serve you forever."

"In what way?" he asked, to which Ginny looked at him in confusion. "You get to choose how this happens. If you want to carry on living here being nothing more than cattle, you can. But if you want something more, you can make a name for yourself as my Milk Queen. My special little cow-slut. I'll let you bear my children and live in luxury and in return, you'll give me all the milk you can make. What do you say?"

"Luxury?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"...Babies?"

"As many as you want."

"Your... Milk Queen..."

"My one and only."

Her simple brain turned the information over again and again. She couldn't believe what Harry was offering her. She got to choose. Her Holstaur instincts were happy at the prospect of getting milked and fucked whenever she wanted. However, the part of Ginny that still remained untouched, the part that loved Harry and wanted to be with him more than anything, was singing for joy too. It truly was the best of both worlds. How could she possibly refuse?

Ginny stood up on her feet, wrapped her arms around Harry's neck and pulled him down into a passionate kiss. Her cow-tail wagged happily as Harry grabbed hold of her arse cheeks and began to snog her back. Her heart fluttered in her chest as she and her true love were reunited as master and whore.

When they finally parted, Harry presented her with a stick of lipstick in one hand and the contract in the other. Ginny knew what she needed to do. She applied a liberal amount of lipstick onto her large, puffy lips, before messily drawing her name onto the parchment. She then planted her lips above the dotted line, leaving a large imprint of her lips on the contract, forever marking her consent as Harry's slave.

The contract glowed and suddenly she felt a collar appear around her neck. It was a luscious, gorgeous red, made of thick leather, with a large cowbell on the front that rattled as she moved.

She felt the writing all over her body glow, the smeared red sharpie ink reforming sinking into her pale skin, deepening into words of sheer black that could be read even in the dim light of the barn. She couldn't see all of the words across her body but she could just about read the ones printing on her tits. Big, bold 'MILK TAPS' across the flesh of her breasts. And along her collar bone, the words 'Property of Potter' were printed. On her belly, just above her womb were the words, 'Potter Babies Only.' Ginny only hoped the 'WHORE' across her face remained, for that was who she was now.

She knew the ink would never fade, not without her Master's permission. From now on, it would only take ever one look at her to figure out who owned her now. She was a marked sow, and a happy one at that.

Another click from Harry's fingers and the pumps reappeared. With a frantic 'moo' Ginny jammed them onto her tits, shivering with delight as their blissful suction returned. The other pumps attached themselves onto her udder, launching at her nipples like snakes. In an instant, all six pumps were working their magic on her, sucking her dry once again, and Ginny moaned. Her nipples felt so much more comfortable like this, like feet slipping into well-worn shoes. It felt so fucking right. Now there was only one more thing she needed and only Harry could give it to her.

The newly-minted cow-slut turned her rotund body around and bent over, resting her hands on the side of a stall, waving her arse in the air.

"M- moo- Master! Oh please, please, fuck me. I need your cock inside me," she whined, presenting her breeding hole to him. "Hermione hasn't let moo- me cum in so long. I need your cummies, master!"

Harry's face twisted into a dangerous smirk. His eyes turned black from lust as the breeding bull inside of him took control once again. With nary any effort, he ripped his overalls from his body, freeing him to the open air as he stalked towards his new sow.

Ginny gasped as she saw a large cock slowly bobbing into view from beneath his shirt. It was the largest cock she'd ever seen, covered in grime and dripping with gloopy pre-cum. An oppressive, musky scent tainted the very air she breathed. Despite her anxieties over its size, her pussy exploded with juices.

Harry approached Ginny's dripping rear-end – taking in the scent of a cow in heat – and growled, grabbing her arse-cheeks and squeezing. Her flicked his wrist and shackled appeared around her hands and feet, chaining them in place.

Another chain appeared, tied off on her leash, which Harry gave a sharp pull. Ginny's head reared back, lowing as Harry gave her plump rump an impressive smack that rang throughout the stall. By now, Ginny was begging for his cock, rubbing her jiggling arse flesh against his crotch, soaking his shaft in her pussy juices. The cow was ready for her bull. He grabbed hold of her hips, aligned himself with her cunt and thrust forward.

Harry entered her with a soft squelch, pushing past her fat folds into her warmth. Ginny's first thought was nothing but pure pleasure as her master speared right into her, his cock rubbing along her love tunnel until the tip hit the wall of her cervix. The fat cow-slut let out an ear-piercing 'moo' as her cunt was filled with proper cock for the first time. It was warmer than the plastic dildo and it throbbed and pulsed in her in ways that made her tremble. It was so much bigger and so much better!

It didn't take much stimulation for the cow-slut to fall into the depths of an orgasm. A hearty scream rang out from her collared throat as she was finally allowed the release she so desperately desired. Her sanity shattered under the weight of ecstasy. Her drooling lips curled into a vacant smile; her eyes stared empty at the ceiling; and as Harry kept thrusting into her, her brain was mushed into a formless mass of unthinking pleasure.

Ginny's entire world zeroed in on this moment, the feeling of Harry's godlike cock rearranging her insides. Over and over again he speared into her cunt, causing her fat arse cheeks to slap and wobble with every thrust. His chiselled body felt wonderful against her bountiful blubber, the feeling of his toned muscles digging into her soft, chubby flesh sent her arousal through the roof. She needed this, needed to fuck, to submit, to breed.

With her mind in no fit state to produce words, all Ginny could do was moo incoherently, silently pleading for Harry to fill her up, to put a baby in her and claim her forever with his seed. In her mind, she was nothing more than an animal for him to conquer. A sow who had been waiting for her bull her entire life, and he was about to deliver.

Eventually, Ginny was rewarded with a loud groan as his potent jizz suddenly burst out of his cock and into her waiting womb. The cow moaned as warmth filled her core, smothering her in baby batter as it filled her up to the brim. Her bulging belly inflated even more with endless gallons of cum, until it drooped rotund and pregnant from her body. Her nipples exploded with milk, celebrating her climax.

Harry remained fully seated in her for a while, pumping cum into her until he was sure she had been properly impregnated. Eventually, his orgasm came to an end and he pulled out, allowing a thick, gloopy stream of his seed to pour from her entrance. Harry smiled, seeing one of his whores after a thorough breeding session was always a beautiful experience. He clicked his fingers and the restraints fell away.

When Ginny came to, she found herself lying on a bed of hay in the corner of the barn. It felt soft and warm and inviting under her heavy body, allowing her aching joints some respite after so long. The pumps on her titties kept pumping away, thankfully they were more gentle now, lapping at her nipples rather than sucking viciously. Ginny ran her hands up and down her body, feeling the thin layer of cum that was soaking into her skin, and sighed.

"Thank you, master," she cooed, massaging her soft, chubby body for the first time. Her fingers deftly traversed her endless curves, gripping the blubbery flesh and stroking, shivering at the sensation. Ginny couldn't believe she was once horrified at having a body like this, especially one so big and sexy.

"Hungry?" she heard Harry ask, just as her tummy gave a low grumble. Ginny lazily nodded. "Luckily for you, we've been preparing something."

She perked her eyes up over her round cum-belly to see Harry opening a cupboard in the corner, revealing shelves filled with buckets. Harry grabbed hold on one, casually carrying the heavy container over to her like it was nothing. Even from here, she could see that it was filled with a gooey, off-white substance that wobbled with each step.

"We've been saving this up for the past few days," Harry explained proudly, "It's full of all the nutrients a Holstaur could ever need. I doubt you'll want anything else from now on."

Ginny was about to ask what it was when her nostrils were met with an unmistakable smell, one that had invaded and corrupted her mind so thoroughly that just a whiff was enough to make her pussy gush with lust. It was a smell that clung to Harry like a cologne, an aroma so oppressive that it made any woman want to submit, now in a concentrated form sitting right in front of her. The bucket sitting in front of her now, commanding every neuron in her brain, was full of his potent, juicy, sticky cum.

Her eyes watered from the overwhelming stench, her mouth drooled and her pussy dribbled with desire. Her Holstaur brain screamed with need, compelling her to shove her face into the bucket to satisfy her primal hunger. Leaning over the rim like a cow leaning into a trough, Ginny's tongue darted out from between her swollen lips and lapped up a good portion. She let it sit in her mouth, tasting it, smothering all around. A gorgeous taste - musky and savoury and somehow sweet - exploded on her tongue. As much as she loved her milk, Harry's potent ball-juice was somehow even better, sending her body into a primal desire to consume all she could.

With her initial hesitance squashed, Ginny eagerly attacked the bucket, shoving her head past the rim and reaching her hands in to scoop up the sticky mixtures. She began shoving handful after handful into her waiting mouth, moaning like a whore with every gulp, until eventually she resorted to just shoving her whole face into the bucket, chowing down on Harry's smelly jizz like there was no tomorrow.

As she drank and ate and swallowed, she slowly forgot all notion of what food was like before this. She forgot her life as a person as the stench flooded her brain and choked her thoughts. All she knew now was being a cow, a happy, submissive breeding sow who loved to drink her master's cum. All other priorities in her life, even her dreams, fell to the wayside as the Holstaur consumed more and more of her mate's essence, drowning her insides in Harry's magic and making sure her body would always crave his gorgeous seed.

By the time the bucket was empty, her round face and ginger hair were smeared with cum, pooling in a puddle on her mammoth tits and down the fat folds of her belly. A river of drool was dripping from her plush lips, mixing with cum and milk into a shining layer of juices that stained her body. She could feel her spirit rejuvenating, like her soul was filling back up with purpose. She wanted- she needed more, and luckily, judging by the number of buckets in the cupboard, there was plenty more stored up and ripening for her.

With a belly full of spunk, Ginny happily lay back against the hay, mewling as Harry threw a blanket on top. A soft kiss atop her head, Harry left his new whore to nap. She would begin her new life as his Milk Queen in the morning. For now, she was allowed to sleep and let all that seed he pumped inside of her take root. Ginny, meanwhile, merely stared up at the ceiling, on the shore of a night of well-earned sleep, glowing with happiness.

She loved her huge, milky titties and her big, fat arse. She loved her master and his giant cock. She loved eating his smelly cum and rubbing it all over her. She loved lying on a bed of hay like a real cow, feeling the warm glow of new life being formed inside of her womb. She loved being a breeding cow. She loved her new life.

The little cow soon fell asleep, dreaming of what her days would be like now that she had found true purpose in life, hoping that it wouldn't be long before Harry fucked her like that again. After all, what was the point of a big dumb breeding sow if she didn't have a strong bull to be fucked by?

Bill Weasley charged through the gates of the Potter Manor, his heart racing as he marched. Not waiting to take in the sights, he charged through the protection wards, hardly slowing as he felt a shiver run through his body. Good, he thought, he wanted them to know he was coming. He was rightfully furious and he was going to demand an audience with the Potters, even if he had to break down the door to get it.

He had returned from Egypt once his curse-breaking mission was finished, expecting to walk into Shell cottage and find his wife ready and waiting with supper and a kiss, maybe even something if he wanted it. Instead he found an empty house and no wife. Bill searched everywhere he could for her, eventually finding himself at the Burrow where Molly explained that both Fleur and Ginny were currently at Potter Manor on a mission to rescue Harry.

So, he dutifully waited for them to return and he kept waiting for months and months on end. They had seen neither head-nor-tail of the girls since. The only correspondence the Weasleys had with them were a few sparse letters from Fleur. Worryingly, as time passed, Fleur's handwriting slowly devolved from neat and tidy to an unintelligible scrawl, with each letter being shorter and shorter. The latest letter that they had received was but a scrap of paper with a single sentence:

happy wiv Harry, luv fleur

By this point, the Weasleys were worried sick about them, so Bill, the eldest and most powerful of the Weasley siblings (in his eyes), took it upon himself to rescue them. If something had happened to Fleur or his sister, he would curse the life out of that Harry Potter!

As he approached the tall entranceway of the manor house, a giddy House Elf appeared before him.

"Hello!" it greeted, the sheer amount of joy in its voice grated at Bill's nerves. "Lord and Lady Potter are expecting you! I has been asked to take you to them!"

"Lead the way," Bill snapped. The Elf turned and with a snap of his fingers, the large oak doors opened, revealing the main entrance corridor. Along the walls, Bill could see the many portraits of Lord and Lady Potter smiling down at him. He resisted the urge to burn them to cinders. It only took a few minutes for Rigsby to lead Bill through the main corridors of the Manor, all the while he kept his eyes peeled for any signs of his wife and sister.

"In here, Mister Wheezy!" Another House Elf called, beckoning him to a set of double doors. They opened on dim a sitting area and Bill was shown the way inside. The indignant Weasley took a seat on a sofa, sitting up ramrod straight.

"Thank you," Bill said, giving a polite nod to the House Elf, who bowed before he popped away, leaving Bill alone to his thoughts. Bill fingered his wand in his hand, imagining all the ways he could use it to force the Potters to surrender Fleur. However, he would have to resist. Harry was a family friend, both of the Potters were. He deserved a chance to grovel at his feet first. It wouldn't take much, the last time Bill saw Harry, he was a scrawny kid who could barely keep his glasses on.

That certainly wasn't the Harry Potter who walked through the door however. The man who was making his way towards him was taller than even Ron and almost twice as wide as himself. He was a mountain of a man, with dark stubble and sharp features that made Bill doubt if he ever was a boy at all. He was wrapped in a small dressing gown. His hair was all over the place, moist with sweat, his glasses were misting up at the sides. He looked like he had just got back from a long workout at the gym, except Bill wasn't sure if he was wearing anything under his gown, let alone gym wear.

"Ah, Bill," he greeted jovially with a voice that made his bones vibrate. "What an unexpected pleasure."

Bill collected himself, refusing to give away his shock.

"Potter," he replied stiffly.

"So," Harry continued, seating himself on the opposite sofa, "what brings you here unannounced?"

Bill decided he was done playing around. Seeing Harry in his new form so casually addressing him like he was nothing stirred something deep in Bill's heart. A sense of inadequacy that he swore he would never feel again, one that drove his every waking moment when he was a boy, that had compelled him to be best, to have the best. And he wanted what was his.

"I'm here for my wife," he announced in his most authoritative tone of voice..

Harry stared at him, squinting his emerald eyes.

"Your wife," he repeated.

"I'm here to bring her home," Bill elaborated. "I don't know what you've done to her but she's leaving with me today.

"I didn't know you were still married," Harry said casually. "Or have you lost another wife?"

Bill grit his teeth behind his tight lips, as a memory from weeks ago resurfaced. Running out of options, Bill had returned to Gringotts in the hope of using his wife's wedding ring to find her, to compel her to come home. That was when he found out that there was no ring to find. In all legal terms, there was no longer a Fleur Weasley. So either his wife had been erased from existence or somehow their marriage had been annulled without him noticing. Sitting in front of his solicitor as the news broke, being faced with the horrible truth, was one of the worst moments of his life. And now Potter was mocking him for it.

"Don't play coy with me," Bill growled in a trembling voice, his anger barely being held back. "You won't keep my wife hostage in your house any longer."

Harry gave him a long-suffering look.

"The last time I checked she has a name," he said. "Or have you forgotten? It has been a while since you two spoke."

"SHUT UP!" Bill screamed. His wand was in his hand in an instant and pointed at Harry's face. "You don't get to boss me around just because you killed You-Know-Who! Take me to Fleur now or I promise, Potter, will rain hell upon you and your family until you have nothing left!"

The look of bored indifference on Harry's face shifted to mild irritation.

"You must be either very brave or very stupid," he said, but Bill was having none of it.

"Do it!" he demanded. "And you'll let my sister go as well! Or else I swear to Merlin, Potter, I'll-"

"You'll do nothing," Harry snapped. Bill jumped, his tirade silenced "Your wife and sister conspired to line theft within my own house. I have enough evidence and political sway to have them locked up in Azkaban for the rest of their days. And now you appear, uninvited, into my home, throwing around vague threats towards my family like a petulant child."

With every word, he allowed more and more of his anger to seep into his voice. The longer he spoke, Bill felt a sense of nausea overcome him as he realised just how badly he had miscalculated. Without warning Harry stood up from his seat, towering over a retreating Bill.

"You have nothing," Harry spat. "No power, no sway, no ground to stand on. So now you'll listen to me. I'll take you to see Fleur and your sister. I'll show you the hospitality we've been granting them. You will be allowed to speak to them and if they so desire, they may leave with you unimpeded, with all crimes forgiven. This is my gift to you. Show me your gratitude."

Bill stared up at the Lord of the house, realising that he wasn't going to overpower him anytime soon. Reluctantly, he bowed his head.

"Thank you," he said behind gritted teeth. He glanced up, only to find Harry's piercing gaze staring back at him, waiting. Bill bit his tongue and tried again. "Thank you... my Lord."

Harry smiled.

"Better."

They soon left the living room, the air between them thick with thinly-concealed animosity. Bill was lead through the Manor until they reached another pair of double doors, one that could only belong to the Grand Hall. Harry stepped aside and offered it.

"She's right behind those doors, Bill," he said in a manner that might have been reassuring if not for the spark of mischief in his bright green eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Bill resolved his nerve as he pushed open the large oak doors.

Whatever he was expecting to see when he entered the hall, the sight he saw in front of him certainly was not it.

The hall was grandiose in every sense of the word, a huge ballroom with a glistening chandelier hanging above him, the walls adorned in frescos and varnished wood. A long red carpet led to an ornate throne, where sat Hermione Potter - naked and very pregnant, evident from the massive belly that rested between her chunky thighs. Her swollen, milk-laden globes lay on top of her rotund belly, spraying and leaking milky streams onto the carpeted floor. Moaning and mooing, her face was scrunched up in pleasure. She wore some mockery of a red ball-gown, with most of her body having burst through. Delicate opera gloves adorned her chubby arms, covering her digits as they grabbed and squeezed at her nipples.

It was only when Bill managed to tear his eyes away from the Lady of the House that he noticed the other person in the room. The most he could see of them was a pair of gargantuan, round arse-cheeks, perfectly plump and tempting, but he knew they belonged to a woman whose head was stuck up the skirt of Hermione's ruined gown. He spotted a soaking, meaty pussy that stuck out from between her legs and a gaping asshole leaking what could only be cum. Soft moans could be heard, muffled through the fabric of her mistress' gown.

Whoever this woman was, she was wearing a skimpy baby blue French Maid outfit, complete with bright white stockings and white elbow-length gloves just like Hermione's. The fabric struggled to contain her bulging flesh, as did her stockings that grappled her chunky thighs. Even from this angle, Bill could tell she was a vision of feminine perfection, with more curves than Bill had ever seen on a woman, even Fleur.

Speaking of which, where was she? Harry said he would be here, but neither of these women could be her, as much as he secretly wished Fleur were this sexy. As much as he hated the Lord Potter at this moment, as a red blooded man, Bill couldn't help feel jealous at Harry's ownership over these two fat, voluptuous whores.

"Girls," Harry announced, bringing their love session to a close, which made Hermione 'moo' in disappointment, "we have a guest. Present yourselves."

As Hermione shifted her dress, allowing her servant to escape, Bill caught a glimpse of a head of silvery-blonde hair and his heart plummeted into his stomach. The slave turned, exposing a pair of bright blue eyes beneath long, fluttering eyelashes.

Kneeling before the throne, was his beautiful wife, makeup smeared across her cum-soaked face, caught in a dumb little smile, making her look like a bimbo prostitute on a street corner. An iron collar was clasped around her neck, leashed by a heavy silver chain held by none other than Hermione herself. And, as if it couldn't get any worse, he looked down, and where a flat, athletic stomach - fit for a supermodel - used to be, now sat a heavy, pregnant belly, one so big that she looked like she could give birth any day now.

"What the hell?!" Bill screamed, storming his way towards them. "What have you done to my wife, you bastard!"

Harry merely tutted at him in a way that made Bill's blood boil in his veins.

"Who, Fleur? As I told you before, she's not your wife anymore, isn't that right, mon coeur?"

Fleur moaned, before nodding her head rapidly, so much so that her chain rattled.

"Oui, Master~" she squealed in a brainless, high pitched mockery of her noble French accent. "I'm your slutty 'ore. My 'oles belong to you, and only you, Master!"

"In all legal terms she's my property," Harry grinned. "I can do whatever I want to her."

As if to prove his point, Harry removed his dressing gown and revealed a foot of long, hard, thick fuck meat for all to see.

With Harry's cock now hanging free, Bill couldn't help but gulp as he compared it to his own length (which came up very, very short), however, he shook those thoughts away for the moment.

"That's ridiculous," Bill protested weakly, "she wouldn't-"

But his words were in vain. Upon spotting the tool of her domination, Fleur's eyes glazed over and she licked her plush lips eagerly. Without hesitation, she crawled towards him and began swallowing inch after inch of his impressive cock, her dick-pillows massaging his length as it slotted into her throat.

Harry groaned in pleasure. "There's a good whore," he grinned, grabbing hold of her platinum blonde tresses and pulling her onto his bitch-tamer. Fleur did not resist. Rather, she welcomed the humiliation. A moan was squeezed out of her every time her lips reached the base, her hands lifted daintily in the air. Her lower body wobbled and bounced with each of her master's thrusts.

Bill was forced to watch as the woman he desired most in the world had her face fucked on the biggest cock he had ever seen. It could only have been a few minutes until eventually she was removed from her master's fuck-rod but to Bill it felt like years. As if it couldn't get any worse, with her cock-drunk, pouting face in full view, Harry unloaded what looked like gallons of cum into her face, With every spurt harry's baby batter splurged over her perfect visage - splattering on her sharp cheekbones, catching on her plump lips, soaking into her platinum blonde hair – until she was drowning in cum, forever infused with his cock musk.

Bill felt light-headed, having forgotten to breathe in several minutes. Harry merely moaned in satisfaction, resting his gargantuan cock on her forehead.

"Was that fun, slut?"

Fleur put an innocent finger to her cum-stained lips.

"Mmm, oui, sir." She smiled, wiggling her fat backside. "But now I want eet een my ozzer 'ole, sil vous plait?"

"Which hole might that be?" Harry asked casually, catching Bill's eye as he did.

"My fuck 'ole," Fleur replied as it were obvious, rubbing her fat folds eagerly. "My slutty cunt. My fat, pregnant pussy."

Harry stared pointedly at Bill, who by this point had gone as white as a sheet.

"Do you miss your husband, Fleur?"

Fleur looked up at her Lord with a vacant expression.

"I 'ave no 'usband~" she replied dumbly. "I'm a 'ore. Your cock slut, master.."

"Good girl."

Bill felt his heart shatter. He could feel his will to live slowly draining away... the love of his life... his wife, taken from him... by someone who he considered family...

"Fleur it's me," he begged. "It's bill."

The blonde bimbo glanced at him for a moment he could swear she recognised him. Yes, there it was! A sliver of the old Fleur piercing through, but instead of love or relief meeting his eyes, Bill only saw disgust.

"Oh," she spat, as if she had only just seen him. "'Ello, Beel. What are you doing 'ere?"

Bill was taken aback by the sheer venom in her voice, so strong that it soured her bubbly voice.

"Fleur," he spoke anxiously, "we can leave now. We can get out of here. I'm here to bring you home. You, me and Ginny."

Fleur barely reacted, turning back to her true love, ignoring the pathetic man begging for attention.

"I don't want to go anywhere wiz you, or your tiny, leetle cock." She blessed Harry's titanic length a sloppy, drooling kiss for emphasis.

Bill sputtered and rounded on the Lord Potter once again.

"What have you done to her?" he growled.

"Everyzzing zat you could not, Beel," Fleur answered between long laps of her tongue on Harry's slick shaft. "As een love me, pleasure me, make me cum again and again. 'E even knocked me up. I'm going to 'ave 'is babies." The pregnant Veela beamed, staring up lovestruck at Harry with hearts in her eyes. "Eet's everyzing I've always wanted!"

"You mean you don't regret divorcing Bill, slut?" Harry asked with faux scandal. Fleur scoffed, shaking her head against his cock.

"Non! Dumping zat cuck was the best best zing I 'ave ever done."

"And if I asked if you wanted to go with him?" Harry replied but Fleur merely continued servicing his length, dirtying herself even more as she clean his filth.

"'E means nozzing to me, my lord," she gasped. "My king."

Harry grabbed Fleur's hair in a gentle hold, stroking her as she mewling under his ministrations.
"What do you want, Fleur?" he asked honestly, his rich green eyes staring into her baby blue jewels.

"To be your pregnant 'ore, my Lord," she said without a hint of a lie. There was a strangled gurgle as the words hit Bill in his most vulnerable place but Harry ignored it, smiling down at his french witch. He looked up at his pregnant cow-wife who was furiously masturbating at the scene.

"Enough talking, slut," Harry said, as if it were a reward. "Enough thinking, too."

"Oui, master," Fleur smiled. "No more thinking for your dumb-dumb maid slut."

With that, she lifted his heavy cock and put her face right up into his sweaty balls. His shaft lay across her face, resting across her beautiful features as if the gods had crafted it as a seat for his manhood, and the stupid whore ate. All that could be heard was the squishing and slopping of plump bimbo lips against sweaty ballsack, the sloshing of her fingers playing with her soaking cunt, her moans of perfect content punctuating each delectable kiss.

All the while, Harry couldn't help but smirk at Bill's paper-white face. The redhead glared at Harry and Fleur, shaking with anger.

"I bet this wasn't what you expected, huh?"

"I knew you might have done something to her," Bill seethed, "and this just proves it. Well, you listen here, Potter. I'll find a way to reverse this, somehow! Real men don't need to turn women into cock-hungry idiots to make them stay."

"You really think my husband would want a dullard for a slave-wife?" Lady Potter chortled from her throne. "Give me a break, Weasley."

The rotund, motherly witch walked over to the trio and knelt down so she and Fleur were at eye level. Hermione caressed her slut's fat rear and bulging belly fondly.

"Fleur, sister-mine, what's your full name?"

Fleur reluctantly removed herself from her Lord's delicious ballsack and, without missing a beat, replied.

"Fleur Isabelle Potter nee Delacour, my Lady."

"What's two-hundred and thirty-seven multiplied by three-thousand and eight?

"Seven-'undred and twelve-zounsand, eight-'undred and ninety-seex, my lady."

Hermione nodded, pressing a kiss to her cheek, letting her tongue have a cheeky lick to lap up her husband's ball sweat. Bill merely stared in silent shock but Hermione wasn't done quite yet.

"And can you remind me," she whispered in her lover's ear, "of the scientific basis for every principle detailed within Gamp's Law?"

Fleur turned to Hermione, smiling at her with more affection than Bill had ever received from anyone, let alone Fleur.

"Zat energy and zerefore matter cannot be created nor destroyed, only transformed or transfigured."

"There's my clever girl."

Hermione pulled the french slut's sweat-covered face towards her own and the two girls kissed, their plump lips crushing together in a satisfying squish. Their tongues battled for dominance and their hands roamed each other's fat bodies. The two lovers were lost to the entire world and Harry fondly chuckled.

"Forgive them," Harry said to his guest, "Hermione finds intelligence quite the turn on. So, what was that about me turning my women into idiots?"

Bill glared at Harry, his hands bawling in fist, his nails pressing into his palms so hard they might break the skin.

"I'll kill you."

Harry scoffed.

"Voldemort couldn't kill me when I was just a boy. What makes you think you could defeat me now?"

"I'll do it. I'll fucking do it, you bastard."

"The only reason you're still breathing is because I respect your family too much to put them through any more grief. However," he added, advancing on a now-trembling Bill, "if you continue to threaten me and my family, that respect might just wear thin."

Bill continued to glare at him, presenting the only meagre resistance he could in the face of Harry's overwhelming power.

"As for Ginny? Well," Harry gave a dark chuckle, "how about we go visit her? I'm sure she would love to see her brother after so long."

The grin on his face made Bill's heart freeze over. However, before Harry could escort Bill – as he was still stuck in place – he looked over his shoulder at both Fleur and Hermione.

"Girls, take James to bed. I'm sure he's rather tired and full." A small, perverted smile grew on his face. "And, why don't you have fun with each other, until I get back~"

"Don't forget about your actual wife, Harry." Hermione's voice piped up as she strutted towards him, her luscious body jiggling with every step. Harry chuckled.

"How could I?" He gently grabbed Hermione – making sure to not accidentally injure her, or the babies – and pulled against him, pressing his cock into her belly. He whispered lovingly into her fluffy ear, "If you behave, my gorgeous slut, I'll give you a fucking so good you won't remember your own name."

Hermione moo'ed joyously and nodded her head, before she quickly went over to Fleur and pulled her chain.

"Come on, sis~" Hermione said, gripping Fleur by the arm as she all but dragged the heavily pregnant French witch to her feet. Bill could only watch forlornly as his precious wife was led away from the Grand Hall like an animal on a leash, towards the Master Bedroom, where she would be spending the rest of the day pleasuring her new mistress.

Harry couldn't help but smile endearingly.

"They do love playing with each other," he noted to a still-frozen Bill, whose glares only served to humour him. "They especially love to breastfeed each other, apparently they love the way it feels. It certainly helps that they have so much milk to give. Good to know our children won't be going hungry. Now, let us reunite brother and sister~"

With that, Harry roughly grabbed Bill's arm. Despite wanting to rip the man's arm clean off, Bill was sure even if he tried, there was no way he could escape Harry's firm grasp. He could only whimper as he was dragged to wherever Ginny was being kept, dreading what horrors he would find.

A confused expression marred Bill's face as he was led towards what was obviously a farmhouse. At first, he expected this to be some kind of cruel joke, or even, he hoped, a nightmare that he could wake up from, but hard as he tried, he couldn't wake up.

The pair marched towards the front door and stepped inside, only to be met with a small entranceway with a counter. There was a sign above the counter that held the logo of 'Dairy Queen Milk', which confused Bill more than anything. Dairy Queen was a new brand of milk that had recently been appearing on shop shelves that everyone couldn't shut up about. From what he heard it was simply the most delicious milk on the market, his mum had especially come to love it. It also apparently had amazing restorative qualities, but he didn't know much about it.

Little did he know he was about to find so much more than he could ever have wanted know.

"Hey, girl!" Harry called out. "Someone's here to see you!"

"I'm here!" Ginny's voice called back. "Come round the back!"

Bill was corralled through a small door into the back of the barn-house, which opened up into a tall chamber. There were cows in stalls, equipment to support them, piles of hay and a thatched roof above them bleeding a soft light down onto them. It looked like any other barn but far more homely, like someone had turned it into a make-shift home. Blankets and carpets were strewn around the place, covered with straw, a proper bed was in the corner with assorted furniture. There was a counter with all sorts of antique kitchenware and pictures of the family were adorning the wooden walls. In a strange way, it reminded Bill of the Burrow.

Then Bill caught sight of the occupant, or rather their backside, as they leant into an adjacent stall.

For a second he thought it was his mother, with her rotund figure and long, red hair trailing down her back. However, that image was quickly dispelled when he saw just how rotund her figure was. This person was twice as wide as his mother ever was, with two glorious fat cheeks squeezed into denim dungarees, a long cow tail – covered in brown fur but otherwise identical to Hermione's – waved lazily at him from a gap in the denim.

Sensing their entrance, this stranger turned around, and Bill's brain ground to a halt upon recognising Ginny's face. Ginny's ears perked up and a small glimmer went through her eyes as she recognised him.

"Bill!"

There was a long pause between them, and Bill's heart continued to twist in his chest.

"G… Ginny?" he murmured; his gaze locked onto his sister's new form.

Ginny, much like Hermione, was no longer like any other witch. She had completed her transformation into what Bill could only describe as a cowgirl, or as Hermione would classify a Holstaur. But Bill couldn't care less about any official classification, all he cared about was the ways that his little sister had changed.

Ginny's face remained the least affected, with her familiar bright, dirty red hair organised into a ponytail, a few rebellious strands clinging to her skin with sweat. However, that's not to say it was entirely the same.

Underneath the rim of her straw hat, little horns stuck out of her forehead, barely bigger than knuckles. Her nose looked far more pink than usual, glowing like a permanent blush, pierced with a heavy gold ring. From her left, fluffy cow ear hung a tag, bright yellow, and around her neck was clasped a red collar from which hung a large bell, like she was nothing more than cattle. And that was only above the shoulders.

Ginny's breasts had grown to rival Hermione's in size, several times larger than her head, squeezed into dungarees that were being stretched to the limits to contain them. Her thick, engorged nipples were left open via a couple of large holes cut into the denim material, allowing Bill to see a constant trickle of milk flowing from them. The sheer amount of denim in front of them would have been enough to wrap him head-to-toe in several layers, yet it barely seemed enough to contain her curves, her rotund expanse of arse wider than an armchair and thick, meaty thighs, each thicker than his waist.

However, even her baggy, denim dungarees couldn't hide the fact that she was heavily pregnant and on her distended stomach, with four extra holes, sat four large, udder-like nipples. There was also writing all over her body, though the only parts he could clearly read was a message tattooed across her breasts, in big bold letters: 'MILK TAPS'.

"This gal right here has become a fine milk cow," Harry said, snapping Bill out of his shock. "Right now, she's carrying a healthy baby girl. You're going to become an Uncle, Billy-boy!"

Bill couldn't think of anything to say. He could barely think at all. He had some small hope that even if he had lost Fleur, his sister might have been spared. But no, she too had allowed herself to be corrupted by the Potters. She had become another one of his whores. Yet another thing that Harry had taken from his family and there was nothing he could do about it.

Harry paused for a moment, savouring Bill's distress. "I'll let you two have a moment together, I'm afraid her day is rather packed, and so is her entire week, actually."

The Lord of the Potters retreated outside, leaving the two Weasley siblings to themselves for the first time in months.

"It's lovely to see you!" Ginny beamed. "It's been so long! How's the job at Gringotts? I've heard you've been to Egypt recently?"

It took a while for Bill to reply as he slowly recovered from shock.

"Ginny..." he murmured, his hands shaking, "what's happened to you? What have they done to you?"

"Hmm?" Her head tilted to the side, her ruby pink lips squished into an adorable pout. Her eyes brightened as she realised what he meant. "Oh, right, of course. Silly me. I've put on a few pounds, haven't I? Honestly, I think it suits me."

A soft, dumb giggle emanating from her throat and she admired herself in a bashful manner. Bill could only stare in horror at her blasé response.

"They've... he's... you're..."

"Oh, come on, Bill, spit it out," she insisted in a way that reminded Bill of his mother. "I haven't got all day."

"You're pregnant." Bill eventually said. He gestured to the entrance, to where Harry had departed only moments before. "Did he-"

"Well, of course he did!" Ginny rolled her eyes as it was plainly obvious. "You do know how pregnancies work, don't you? Then again, I suppose you wouldn't, considering you never managed it with Fleur."

"Did he force himself on you?" Bill growled, still in disbelief. "Did he-?"

"If anything I tried to force myself on him, at first. But by the time we actually did, I was gagging for it. And we've been fucking ever since. Well, that is when Hermione and Fleur aren't too busy riding that horse-cock of his. I don't blame them, of course."

"You mean... you agreed to this?" Bill asked, dumbfounded.

"Oh Bill," Ginny swooned, "this is all I've ever wanted. I just didn't know it until Harry showed me the truth."

Bill glanced into the corner of his eye, watching for any sign of Harry. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he then leaned closer and whispered.

"Ginny, listen to me. We can run away, I can take you back to Mum. We can go home, we can fix you-"

"Fix me?" Ginny repeated in confusion. "What on Earth do you mean fix me? There's nothing to fix, Bill. And why would I want to go home? I love it here."

"You're Harry's prisoner!"

"I'm his Milk Queen, Bill! He needs me!"

"Listen to me! You've been brainwashed, just like Fleur! You two would never agree to let yourselves be turned into someone's personal whore or kept in a barn like a cow. I'm taking you both home today and we're gonna get you back to normal-"

"No, Bill."

Her calm yet icy tone threw him off guard for a moment. Anger rose in his chest.

"Don't argue with me! I'm your brother-"

"And Harry's my Master. Only he can tell me what to do."

"Well, fuck what he says-"

"What if I want to stay here?"

"I don't care!" Bill bellowed. Ginny shrugged.

"No, you never have cared about what other people want. Especially not Fleur."

"What the hell do you mean?"

Ginny tutted knowingly, walking back towards the countertop in the corner and lifting a pail onto it.

"Do you know how long she's wanted a family of her own?" she asked as she then made her way towards a large metal container, checking the valves on its surface. "Ever since she was a little girl. She's asked you again and again and you never listened, because you didn't actually care. Because to you, she was only ever something to warm your bed and do your dishes."

"You don't know anything about my marriage, Ginny!"

"But Fleur does. She and I have grown very close since you last saw us, we have Harry to thank for that," her eyes clouded over as she was reminded of her Bull, before she brought herself back down to Earth. "But anyway, she's wanted nothing more than to carry a little baby of her own for years now. She told you several times, given you chance after chance, and you did nothing. And now she's found Harry-"

"I don't care what that bastard-"

"A real man, someone who's richer, kinder, braver, smarter, stronger and more loving than you ever will be. Someone who actually has a pair of balls, who's willing to give her everything she's ever wanted. And you want to take her away from that?"

Bill glared at his sister, wondering how on Earth he could possibly say such things. He deserved more respect than this, especially from his own flesh and blood.

"That's-" his voice trembled with rage. "That's not-"

"And what about me?" Ginny added. "I've loved Harry since I was a child and now I get to be his! I'm happy here, well and truly happy and you want to take this all away from me?"

"You really want to spend the rest of your life here popping out babies for some jumped-up-" Bill protested, but Ginny fired back just vehemently.

"It's an honour to carry his baby, Bill! In fact, I'm going to raise them with all the love I can give, just as I know Harry will!"

"Fine!" he bellowed. "Fine! If you're happy being nothing more than his slut-"

"I love being his slut!" Ginny seethed. "I get milked for hours every day from my big fat tits like the dumb cow I am and I love it!"

Her sudden shift into debauchery smacked him in the face hard enough to silence him. Ginny took advantage of this fact to hammer home just how futile his quest had been. She clicked her fingers and in seconds, large industrial pumps appeared from above, dangling like vines and latching on to each of her nipples on display. The sound of whirring filled the barn. Ginny moaned as the pumps sucked and pulled at her udders - drawing floods of milk down the clear pipes leading to the containers - and Bill was treated to a show of just why Ginny called herself Harry's Milk Queen.

"If you can't accept that then you can fuck right off because I'd rather spend the rest of my life here riding my master's cock and being milked for all I'm worth than ever go back to our stupid, tiny, rickety house with you!" Ginny hissed, kneading her tits and rubbing her needy cunt through her dungarees.

Unable to bear it anymore, and unwilling to see his sister like this, Bill quickly turned and rushed out of the building, his eyes ablaze with furious tears as the image of what Ginny had become burnt within his memory.

As if it couldn't get worse, Harry reappeared only to laugh at Bill's expense.

"It's a beautiful sight, is it not?" He asked, a cruel grin on his face once more, "It was a fitting punishment for her, after she tried to destroy my marriage. Although, she doesn't see it that way."
Harry looked at his watch and grinned.

"Time's up, Bill," Harry said. "As fun as this has been, I think you've seen more than enough."

He gave a quick flourish with his fingers and a bottle of milk appeared in Bill's hand.

"Give this to Molly, I'm sure she would love to have some of her daughter's to remember her by. Freshly milked, too. We have to dilute it with cow's milk when we send it to the shops. This, however, is pure Holstaur milk. It's worth more than you right now."

Bill could only nod his head, heavy with the heart of a broken man.

"Oh, and before you leave," Harry added as he once again raised his hand. A blast of something erupted in Bill's brain, before abating into a deafening silence. He felt light-headed and dizzy, like parts of his brain had been replaced with wool. "There. Don't worry, I haven't damaged anything. A simple but powerful compulsion charm. Now you will never tell your family the truth of what you saw here. You will speak no ill-will towards this place or anyone in it."

Bill whimpered pitifully, wallowing in his failure. He couldn't save his sister or his wife – or ex-wife – and now, he couldn't even tell anyone what was happening to them.

"Now, get off my property!" Harry commanded at Bill, who scurried away in fright. A few minutes later, Harry felt a tingle as Bill was thrown through the perimeter wards and smiled, finally rid of the pest.

He turned back around and re-entered the barn-house that Bill had come stumbling out of and quickly found Ginny tending to a calf in one of the side-stalls, industrial pumps stirring and pumping away at her milk-taps.

"Honestly," Ginny sighed as she noticed Harry approach, "he's always so overdramatic."

"That I can agree on," he nodded. He walked up behind her, wrapping one arm around her waist and cupping the other beneath her mammoth tits. "How are you today, Gin?"

"Mmm, doing well," she nodded into his embrace. She stroked her belly affectionately. "This one is very energetic. I think she knows her daddy is here."

Harry took a moment to rub her gravid belly, feeling the tiny kick of the little one inside. He smiled. Ever since she and Hermione made up, he had allowed himself to be far more affectionate to Ginny, treating her more like a mistress than a personal cum-dump. To be fair, however, oftentimes she was both. It was an arrangement that the others were happy with, as they could barely keep up with his stamina. Harry could fuck all three of them at once and still outpace them. It was only logical that, with all that love inside him, he should be allowed to share it.

"I can't wait to meet her," he said softly. "You sure you want her to live here with you? She's welcome in the manor with the rest of the children."

"Mmm, no. There's no life I'd rather she live than my own. Being your cow has brought me joy I didn't know I could have. I want that for my babies too, when they're old enough. And raising them here, with me, I'll help them understand that."

"So long as you give them a choice."

"Oh, I'll certainly let them choose," she smiled cheekily, "though I doubt it'll be a very hard decision."

Harry smiled, gripping her humongous breasts and squeezing deliciously.

"And I see your milk tanks are performing much better."

"Yep. I think the soreness has passed. Send Hermione my thanks for the remedy when you fuck her later."

"I will. How are all the other little ones? I heard Mindy wasn't feeling too well?"

Ginny carefully ran her hand across the head of the calf beneath her, fondling the fur between her ears.

"Oh, she'll be alright. Little dearie was just a bit under the weather, weren't you, gorgeous?"

She leaned down to plant a soft kiss on the calf's pink nose, eliciting a small 'moo' from the animal.

In the months since moving into the barn, she had really taken to mothering the new calves they'd bought in for production. It was something to do during the day when she wasn't needed. It helped that they were very agreeable animals, downright adorable really. Ginny made a habit of treating each of the calves like her babies, raising them and taking care of them. Rather unexpectedly, possibly due to the transformation that happened to her, she had fallen in love with the life of a cowgirl and she was sure her daughter would be the same.

"Thanks for all your help with the barn," Harry said. "We really couldn't have done it without you."

"Well, I am your Milk Maiden," she grinned. "It is my job. That and servicing your big fat cock."

She ran her small hand up and down the bulge of his length, her eyes darkened with lust.

"Rightly so," Harry nodded, groaning softly at her ministrations.

"You come around some time when the girls are done," she offered, wiggling her backside and flicking her tail. "I've been feeling particularly horny recently. This Dairy Queen wants her special throne."

Harry smirked at her eagerness.

"Maybe later, you insatiable cow," he murmured into her ear.

"Now now, that's Hermione's job," she countered, moaning lightly as he nipped at her neck. "I'm just here to provide the goods. Speaking of which, I'd better get back to pumping."

"So should I."

Ginny snorted, hitting his chest lightly.

"Very clever, Potter." That remark earned her a swift smack on the arse and she quickly corrected herself. "Mmm, sorry, Master."

"Better," he grinned.

As he was readying himself to leave, a house-elf in a fine valet suit appeared with a 'pop' in front of him. The small creature was clearly in distress.

"My Lord!" he announced breathlessly. "It's Lady Potter! Her water has broken. She's going into labour!"

The news came as a shock, even though a part of him had been expecting it for a while. Hermione was due any day now, it was only a matter of time. However, even though he had prepared himself for the new, he couldn't help but feel his heart jump in his chest. He was about to be a father again!

Remembering that he was Lord Potter, Harry's face turned into a one of stoic duty. Burying his excitement, he gave a curt nod to the House Elf.

"Very good. Get her ready in the master bedroom, make sure Fleur is there. I will be with them shortly."

The elf disappeared with another pop.

He looked over his shoulder and saw that Ginny was now taking care of another fluffy calf, still hooked up to the pumps which whirred away. He would be back for her soon. She deserved a thorough fuck after her performance today. For now, he was needed elsewhere.

With a small smile on his face, Harry turned on the spot and disappeared from the barn.

Appearing in the Master Bedroom, Harry was instantly greeted with a small handful of House Elves rushing past him towards the grand bed in the middle of the room, or rather towards the person lying prone on it. In their arms were towels, steaming bowls of water, sponges, jugs and other assorted items, all to help their Mistress. Although Harry doubted she would need any help, the house elves didn't want to take any chances where the Lady Potter was concerned.

Fleur too looked very anxious, rubbing her hands together as she stood to the side. Her bright blue eyes lit up when she noticed Harry's arrival.

"Master!" Fleur cried rushing into his arms.

"Easy now, Fleur," Harry soothed, one of the rare times when he used her real name. "She's going to be alright. In fact, I dare say she's going to be more than alright."

Fleur looked up at him through her long, dark lashes, her thick lips in an adorably confused 'O.'

"'Ow do you mean?"

Harry took her by the shoulders and turned her to the scene on the bed, where Hermione sat. She looked as many women in labour did. Her hair was frazzled; a sheen of sweat sat on her skin; her breaths were sharp and ragged; the colour of her face had deepened into scarlet. Hermione's flushed face, however, wasn't down to any pain, however, rather extreme pleasure.

In human women, giving birth was a laborious process. For a Holstaur like Hermione, the opposite was true. Holstaur were born to fuck, to bred, to bear as many children as possible. To them, giving birth was not only their most sacred ceremony but their most desirable act. Instead of the overwhelming pain any mortal woman would experience, every contraction that wracked Hermione's pussy felt like a mini-orgasm. The stretching of passage was pushing her to highs unparalleled. Her nipples were buzzing with excitement, as if her tits knew that they would soon be needed for the new arrivals.

"Moo!" She moaned, grunting lightly as she felt a strong kick in her womb. "I can't wait to meet our beautiful babies~"

Harry chuckled lightly, before he used his thumb to gently run over Fleur's pregnant belly.

"Neither can we, Missymoo." He smiled. "Aren't you excited, Fleur?"

"Oui," Fleur gasped, rubbing her taut, gravid skin longingly, the sounds of Hermione's ecstatic whines filling her ears and wetting her cunt.

"Make sure you watch this, Fleur," Hermione gasped between moans. "It's going to be... mmm- your turn before long. You'll get to feel every bit of this pleasure."

"But for now," Harry whispered, picking her up by the legs and lifting her until her back was against his chest, "you'll just have to make do with this."

The head of his cock shifted to her core, asserting itself along her mewling slit and encouraged by her eager pleas. His fuck-meat met a dripping wetness and speared up. Her pussy lips parted and soon she was full of him once again, impaled on his bitch-breeder once again.

Harry used Fleur like a pleasure aid, jacking himself off with her body, plundering her soaking depth again and again whilst Hermione screamed with pleasure. From behind lidded eyes, barely conscious from the ecstasy, Fleur watched as her mistress and brood-sister began slowly going insane.

With each contraction, another deranged 'moo' of joy. Her pussy widened and squirted and Hermione sang a maddening song of lust. It was like her brain had forgotten how to think, forgotten everything but this moment and how to give birth. All else was lost in the waves of intense, amazing, orgasmic pleasure soaking in her cunt, up into her loins. And Fleur couldn't wait to feel the exact same thing.

She loved having her master's cock thrusting into her pussy, right up into her cervix, rubbing every inch of her insides, but the feeling of slowly pushing her child out of her would be the best feeling of her life. Not only because she knew her body had changed like Hermione's, that her Veela magic would transform it into something beautiful and to be desired, but that it would be the first of so many. It would be only the beginning of the rest of her life, pumping out babies for Harry, always the ready and eager cum-receptacle, always the fertile baby-mama for her hung bull.

It all collided together in that pregnant thought; her huge, blubbery buttocks slapping against his hips as he fucked her; her large belly swaying sway with the rhythm; her slutty outfit clinging to her body as it was used for her master's pleasure. Fleur came undone with a wail of delight. Her juices erupted on Harry's meat rod, just as she heard Hermione's cries of joy echo through the room.

"They're coming! I'm your slut! Your pregnant cum-slut! Your brood-cow! Yes!"

Hermione threw her head back as the first babe crowned and slipped out of her. Her brain fizzled inside her head and her body rocked from the sensation. She was a mother again and that fact brought her joy untold.

And the best part was it wasn't over. Her descent into lust-induced bliss began anew as her second child soon came due. By the time the first baby girl was swaddled and ready to be fed, the second was already out and wailing. And Harry was there to meet them, holding them up to their mother's fat nipples for them to feast on. The girls drank happily and Hermione cooed.

"I'm so happy to give birth to your beautiful children," she smiled, pulling her infant daughters into the warmth of her tit-flesh. Harry gave her a watery smile, bestowing a kiss into her pillowy lips.

"Thank you," he whispered tenderly and Hermione nodded, her own eyes wet with tears.

"You're always welcome," she promised.

Eventually, the twins had enough milk and Harry was allowed to rock them to sleep in the crooks of his mighty arms. Never had a pair of children been safer than in their father's arms at that moment.

"I don't think I'll ever get tired of this," Harry chuckled, watching their tiny faces relax as they slept.

"Good," Hermione said softly. "I want more. More cock, more babies, more births. I want to have your babies forever."

"Me too!" Fleur promised, lying beside her brood-sister and gently massaging her tits. "I can't wait to give birth, 'Arry. I want to be your slutty broodmare forever."

Harry glanced at the pair of them, fully content with his lot in life, and eagerly awaiting the day that he would have even more children to take care of. It wouldn't be long before Hermione was fit again and soon Fleur's baby girl would be here, as well as Ginny's.

He had a very special night planned for when all three of them were ready to be bred again, one that he was very much looking forward to. Hopefully next time their birthing dates would all line up. What a show that would be...

Until them, Harry was happy holding the two newest additions to his ever growing family whilst his two fuck-sluts slept together on the Lord's bed. Oh yes, his life was a good one indeed and it was only going to get better.

Molly Weasley stirred her morning cup of tea with a frown upon her face. Her mind was caught deep in thought, pondering over the many things that had caught her attention over the last few days, one of them, as it happened, being her tea her tea. Or rather what the milk she was currently mixing into her tea, from a bottle of Milk Queen that her darling Bill had brought home with him one day.

Ever since she had started using it, the taste of her tea had improved significantly. Molly had been an ardent fan of the Milk Queen brand ever since it arrived out of the blue on store shelves some months ago, but this bottle was much more potent than the regular store-bought variety. It was creamier, sweeter, more invigorating. Molly swore that just drinking it made her feel ten years younger, like the aches and pains of middle age had been swept away and replaced with clean skin and a youthful vigour.

Bill did say that it was a special supply 'from the source', though he could never specify why it was so special. Perhaps it was some secret ingredient he wasn't at liberty to say?

Speaking of Bill, her eldest had been acting... strange to say the least. Despite her pestering since his return, he wouldn't say anything about his trip to Potter Manor. Nothing about Ginny or Fleur or Harry, nothing apart from the occasional, "They're fine." And then he would simply stare forlornly into space muttering things under his breath. It was all very concerning.

Molly sat down on the chair in the dining room, pondering her best course of action. Perhaps, it would be best if she were to go talk to Harry herself. She was Harry's surrogate mother-figure – at least, that was what she had inferred – and she had a right to know what was happening in that manor house. Fleur might be a lost cause but she was never good enough for her Bill. He would find a new woman. Ginny on the other hand was her daughter and she wasn't answering her letters!

Taking a small sip of tea, Molly began to plan her next move, savouring the sweet taste of her tea, as well as the renewed feeling in her body, the other side effect of the milk that she dared not talk about. Something about that liquid lit a fire in her that she hadn't felt since her days as a feisty, hormonal young woman. A fire that made her loins tingle and her nipples buzz. And yet she drank on, desperate to recapture that feeling, even if she could never release it, at least not with her husband.

But no matter, now Molly had other plans. Her mind was set. Once she was ready, she would march over to Potter Manor forthwith and demand Ginny come back home with her. Harry too if she could tear him from that Granger girl's clutches. She would need time to prepare, make sure Bill was alright, maybe convince Ronald to leave his room and stop sulking for once, ready the house to do without her for a week or two.

Oh yes, the Potters would be seeing her very, very soon. But not before her cup of lovely tea.