Harry breathed a sigh of happiness as he reclined into one of Gryffindor's comfy arm chairs. Hogwarts. How he loved it. Her magic wrapped around him, hummed with pleasure, loved him. Hogwarts had always been his, just as he was hers. Hogwarts would respond to any who would sacrifice to protect its walls and its students, and Harry had always been her favorite. The chair he was sat in sank a little further, its arms cupping around him to enwrap him, to warm him.
He'd need to be productive, while he was here, and not just in procuring pussy. Though the Hogwart's lessons didn't hold much benefit to him, the library might, and the Chamber of Secrets too. Tom always felt like hadn't found all of its secrets, and the library had changed a lot since Tom had been here.
At his side, Ron and Hermione argued over the arrival of Umbridge. Harry stifled his snort as he heard Hermione argue that she was a Professor, and needed to be respected. She had a serious worship of authority -- he'd have to make sure he transferred that worship to himself. It would be much better for him and her.
Umbridge would be a problem, one he might have to care of. A Ministry peon in Hogwarts - had Dumbledore's influence truly waned so low? And another useless year of Defence against the Dark Arts. Harry stifled the sudden burst of rage. The Dark Arts were so beautiful, so powerful in the right hands, and the students would be so ignorant of the art. Perhaps he should teach it himself.
Harry sat up suddenly, stroking his chin. He did need followers from across the houses, and what better way than an inter-House extracurricular organization, with him as the leader? He'd be training up his own army, and getting unrestricted access to Hogwart's prettiest witches as a bonus.
He'd have to get Hermione to organize it - she enjoyed useless positions of power. He examined her as the night grew closer and they were the last ones left in the common room. Finally, Ron yawned and headed up, courtesy of a nifty Drowsiness Charm Tom had picked up in Uruguay. Hermione was thumbing through one of his essays, checking his summer homework as she always did.
"Wow, Harry, this is really good. Where did you learn about the history of the animals-to-stone transfiguration?"
"Oh, you know, in some book or other." He said airily. Actually, it was from a Hungarian Transfiguration teacher Tom had Imperiused for six months before he'd killed him.
She gave him a warm smile. "I'm so proud of you. I don't even need to read your homework anymore. You'll probably get better grades than me."
"Oh, it's all down to you, you know. I've been using your essay structure for years. Point, evidence, explain, right?" Harry said truthfully.
She blushed, swatting at him, but he caught her hand and held it between his.
"Harry?"
"Hermione." He said seriously. "We both know Umbridge is here to push some Ministry nonsense on us. This is our OWL year, our most important year yet. We can't afford another year of a terrible teacher in DADA."
"I know, Harry." She blinked, surprised at his sudden tactileness. "But maybe Umbridge won't-"
"I'm thinking of starting up an after-lesson club, so I can teach others what she won't, and pass on all my DADA knowledge."
"Really," She gasped. "That's an amazing idea, Harry. You can teach them all the things we learned for the tournament last year!"
Harry grimaced.
"What? What's wrong?" Hermione questioned.
He got up and sat heavily on the couch beside her, so close they were brushing skin.
"I don't think I ever really told you what happened when Voldemort came back. How he tortured me, how we fought, how he killed Cedric in front of me."
"Oh, Harry." Hermione gasped, putting a comforting hand on his arm.
"The worst part of it was, when we dueled, when he fired a Killing Curse and all these dark curses at me, the only thing I responded with? Expelliarmus. What a joke? My father fought back against him. My mother sacrificed herself. And all I could do against my parent's murderer was a Disarming Charm?"
"Harry." Hermione breathed. "You can't blame yourself, you were under so much pressure-"
"And even if I was clear-headed, what I would have used? A Stunner?" Harry scoffed. "What good would that have done? Even if I'd landed it, he would have been revived within seconds. Even if I'd stunned them all, and they go to the Ministry, and they just claim they were under the Imperius, and they all go free."
"But Harry," She clutched his arm. "You can't do illegal spells."
"Hermione." He laughed bitterly. "There's a big difference between the Unforgiveables and darker spells."
"But, Harry, we can't use the Dark Arts, they make you evil-"
"Oh, come on Hermione. We both know that's not true. What do you think Aurors use? How do you think Dumbledore beat Grindelwald? How do you think my father tried to fight off Voldemort?"
She was trembling, mouth agape.
"So," Harry continued. "After the graveyard, I was so embarrassed, so humiliated, I started learning more and more magic. During the summer, I bumped into Hannah and Susan in Diagon Alley."
"What were they doing there?" Hermione said abruptly, stiffly. Harry killed his smile before it showed on his face. All girls were jealous of those two - Hannah in particular was the recipient of a lot of jabs and teasing comments about her absurdly curvy figure.
"They were shopping, I don't know. But they invited me back to Bones Manor, and I got talking to Amelia Bones about Voldemort's resurrection."
"Head of the Department of Defense?" Hermione's brows rose high.
"Yeah. And while we were talking, she got a call that Greengrass Manor was under attack from Death Eaters."
"Oh no!"
Harry nodded grimly. "I went with her to defend it."
"But-" Her eyes were wide.
"And I fought the Death Eaters again, and Voldemort too."
Hermione squeaked, clutching his whole arm.
Harry took a deep breath. "I fought alongside the Aurors, and you may hate me for this, but I killed some of the Death Eaters. They were holding Daphne's younger sister hostage. I didn't have a choice."
"Oh, Harry," She curled up into him, tears in her eyes. "I'm so sorry."
"I'm not." Harry sat back into Hogwart's embrace as the couch enclosed them both, until it was basically a loveseat. "I saved lives, Hermione. And you should have seen Voldemort's face when we forced him to apparate away. We dealt him a blow, Mione. Not with Stunners, not with Disarming charms. With real, actual magic."
Hermione grabbed in her death grip, crying softly, for her friend's loss of innocence or perhaps her own.
"It's time to grow up, Mione." He pulled her into him as she cried, until she was straddling his lap, her skirt pleating over his groin. Her blouse had ridden up, exposing a tantalising line of her flesh at her midriff. She was slim and toned - magic had made her grow up well, but she needed an injection of a few of his cumloads to fill her curves out a little.
He put his hand on her hip and with his other hand, brought up her chin until he could meet her eyes. "I want you to co-lead this organisation with me. I need your help organising it, and to be my assistant while I'm teaching."
As she felt his hand on her hip, Hermione also suddenly realized her compromising position, her core, her white cotton panties were sitting directly on his groin, on something massive, on something that was hot and steeling?
She gasped and flinched.
"What's wrong?" Harry's brows furrowed.
"Noth-nothing." Hermione said, flustered.
"Is it because I'm touching you like this?" Harry said quizically. He withdrew his hand from her side. "Wow, I'm sorry, Mione. I just thought, we're so close, we've been friends forever, I thought we were beyond all that silly teenage awkwardness."
Hermione laughed oddly, her eyes a little bright, laugh a little too loud. "No, of course we are, Harry."
Still, she was stiff in his lap, like an inanimate puppet.
"Why are you being so weird?"
"I'm not being weird." Hermione said defensively. But she didn't know what to do with her hands, twisting her fingers together, her face flushed.
"Well, fuck, Hermione. I just wanted to tell you about my near-death experiences, about the crazy murderer who wants to kill me, but apparently I'm fucking crazy for not wanting to use Stunners on genocidal maniacs."
"No, Harry, that's not it-"
"I just wanted a hug from my first ever friend, but I can't even do that. I thought you'd be excited to help me make this club."
"I am-" Hermione tried to exclaim.
"Forget it." He dumped her in the couch and stood up sharply. "Good night. I'll see you tomorrow." And then he was gone, stalking up the stairs to the boy's dorms, ignoring her pleas and her crying. Minutes later, he was wrapped up in his warm bed, staring up at the ceiling, a small smirk on his face. He was an asshole, that much was true, but he was doing this for her benefit. She'd always been susceptible to a little guilt, and she would never do anything rather than lose her one true and first friend. As a Muggleborn, she wouldn't amount to much, despite her incredible intelligence -- most of them ended up working menial jobs in Diagon Alley, or going back to the Muggle world. With his support, she'd be more important than most, even if spent a good part of her time on her knees, or on her back. Most of his prospects would need money, or power, but he'd make an exception for her. She was the smartest girl in Hogwarts, and she'd always been his. He couldn't stand to see someone else have her.
Sleep came easy, dreams of her lips around his member, her sweet brown eyes glinting as she drained his balls.
***
In the morning, Harry was up early. He showered and dressed in his finest robes, every bit the Lord of the most Ancient House of Potter. He swept past Ron's snores and down the stairs, completely unsurprised to be immediately accosted by Hermione. She'd been crying all night, by the looks of it, face red and splotchy.
"Please, Harry, can we talk?" She said quietly, voice scratchy.
"Of course." He said, pulling her out of the Common Room and into an unused side room.
"I'm so sorry!" She began crying again as soon as they were alone, throwing herself at him, arms around his neck, legs limp.
He was stiff, unwilling to embrace her until she conceded more.
"I was just overwhelmed, that was all." Hermione begged. "We can hug whenever you want. We should hug more. And - and - and, you're right about using darker magic on Death Eaters, and about Voldemort, and about making a teaching club. It's a great idea and I'd love to help and oh, please forgive me!" She rambled.
He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed, pressing his forehead against hers. "I forgive you."
She cried a few tears of relief, clutching him ever tighter.
"Maybe I dropped a few things on you at once, but I just wanted to help. I...I was emancipated by the Goblet of Fire choosing me to participate in the Tournament, making me an adult legally. And that means I've had to learn a lot about the House of Potter, about my position in life, about who I'll be expected to marry, about Muggleborn's place in society."
Hermione swallowed. She knew what he was talking about.
For the Muggleborns that wanted to stay in magical society, they were often sponsored by Purebloods. They were sponsored as researchers most commonly, paid to do library work into issues that interested the Purebloods in exchange for shelter and coin. They became a part of that House, almost like being adopted. Less commented was that it was frequently a sex-based relationship, with research a happy side benefit to keep the Muggleborn's happy in their spare time.
"I thought if you were a key figurehead in this club, it would be a really good for you when you need to find a job after Hogwarts." Harry brushed some of the tears from her cheeks as she gave him a tremulous smile. "But don't worry, I'll always take care of you."
She shook in his arms.
"You're my closest friend, Mione." He told her softly. It was true. That was why he was doing this. "There's nothing I wouldn't share with you. I'll never forget how you helped me rescue Sirius, how you worked day and night to make sure I lived through the tournament."
She gripped the front of his robes tightly, silent for a moment. "You're the best thing to ever happen to me." She murmured.
"And you, me. Now, I want to have our first lesson next week, after everyone's experienced what Umbridge will be like, they'll be desperate to join. I want you to come up with a list of students and work on a way of contacting them easily. We're going to do this just like a proper Hogwarts lesson, so we need to be clear. This isn't a group of friends. I'll be acting like a real teacher, I'll even be asking everyone to call me 'sir'." Harry said authoritatively, watching her shiver at his last sentence.
"Yes, sir." Hermione giggled, face flushed.
He gave her a warm smile. "Now, get to work or I won't give you an A."
Her smile glowed, her whole body lighting up. This was a girl, like Narcissa, who needed a little love to give out a lot of light. He'd couldn't wait to see how she'd respond to a lot of loving.
Now they'd made up, they went to breakfast, Hermione sticking close to him, as if parting with him would mean he'd disappear forever. Harry ate distractedly, scanning the Great Hall as the sleepy students entered. Hannah bit her lip as she saw him, but made no attempts to approach. Susan just blushed, not meeting his eyes. Daphne shot him a venomous look as he made no attempt to hide his appreciation of her long, stocking-covered legs. Fuck, he was horny. He needed to get off again, and soon. He'd gotten too used to bending Narcissa over, or pushing her to her knees, whenever he was even slightly horny.
Speaking of Narcissa...a beautiful tawny owl dropped off a sealed letter for him.
"Who's that form?" Hermione said over his shoulder.
"Family business, I'm afraid."
Hermione frowned as she realized she couldn't read it, the letter simply blank for her. Harry patted her leg, making her blush once more. "It's nothing exciting, its just accounts and legalities. My House does own a lot of property and businesses."
"I, of course. Sorry." Hermione said shyly. "It's none of my business what your accounts are like."
"Maybe one day, it will be." Harry said slyly, watching her eyes go wide. It was rare for Muggleborns to be made accountants or business managers for accounts as large as the old Pureblood accounts, but it had happened. Doubtless she dreamt of more, of being Minister for Magic, or some other such nonsense, but she'd soon realize, if she hadn't already, that the realities of being a Muggleborn in Wizarding Society meant being she'd have to rebalance her ambitions.
He turned his attention back to the letter.
My Lord,
Oh, how cold these nights have been without you. I yearn for you, your touch, your pleasure, your body. I have spent my time doing as you ask, poring over the Potter accounts and seeing what needs to be done. There is much to be done, relationships to repair and hands to shake. Most pressing are the businesses that owed taxes, or a percentage of profits, or property leasing costs to the Potter House, that have let their payments lapse, perhaps hoping that you wouldn't make it to adulthood, or that you wouldn't notice.
I have taken the liberty of hiring the best solicitors to draft letters to all these businesses demanding payments, backdated of course - these letters are attached. If they're suitable, please let me know and I'll ensure they're sent out, along with appropriate reminders and perhaps some Goblin warriors if payment still isn't made.
I have purchased the finest lingerie in anticipation of your arrival. I pleasure myself to the thoughts of you, but the pleasure I can bring myself is only a pale approximation of the pleasure you give me, with just a smile and a kiss. My Lord, hurry back to me. I've enclosed a photograph of me, so you don't forget me amongst your new Hogwarts strumpets.
Your lover, your ever devoted,
Narcissa
Harry scribbled back a quick reply, his cock rock hard, and excused himself from breakfast, bumbling past a confused and sleepy Ron. He was far too horny to think straight, his magic overwhelming him - how did other powerful wizards stand it? He'd have to take himself in hand if he wanted to get through today, or he'd risk fucking up the delicate relationships he'd formed with his future harem members.
Without thinking, his feet had taken him to the Room of Requirement. Tom had used it years a go, to easily read books from the Restricted Session, as well as practicing his magic. He didn't know what he wanted, but still the door opened for him.
Inside, a room of pure black, a single light casting down on an ornate mirror, like a stage light on the lead actor. Harry smiled to himself as he recognised it. The Mirror of Erised.
What would he see? What did he desire? What did Tom desire?
He let out a long, deep breath as he stepped up, and realized he was still Harry. And yet, not quite.
He sat on a throne, simple but still gold, cushioned in red, engraved with the Potter clan seal. By his side, at his feet, draped over him, hands reaching for him, reclining for his gaze, a sea of women, of adoring lovers. Beauties from around the world, so many he couldn't even count them all. Many were pregnant, hands splayed on curved abdomens.
But their faces...this wasn't blind obedience, nor was it fear. It was love. This was a world-class array of submissive pussy, but it was still what Harry had always wanted. A family.
He snorted. A fucked family, maybe. But a family nonetheless. He stared at the image for a few more minutes then tore himself away, fully aware he was rock hard. He willed the mirror to disappear, but he was too horny to wish it away completely, and instead the image changed.
Daphne, lying back on her bed, scowling. Tracey, sat on her own bed, staring in disbelief.
"So you just let him jack off? Right in front of you?"
"What choice did I have?" Daphne snapped. "His power is insane. We need his protection."
"How can Potter possibly protect us from You-Know-Who?" Tracey sniffed.
Daphne sat up suddenly. "You don't understand. You haven't seen him since last year. You haven't felt him. He fought Voldemort. He dealt with the Death Eaters in my home like they were nothing."
"He fought Voldemort for like five seconds, backed up by a whole Auror team." Tracey argued.
"I'm not saying he'd beat him, today." Daphne sighed. "But he's changed. We're only in our fifth year and he can do that already. What else is he doing, when we're not watching? What is he capable of?"
They were silent, the atmosphere stifling. Tracey took a breath and sat next to Daphne, reaching into her lap to take her hand.
"You really believe him, when he says he can protect your family?" She traced her thumb on Daphne's hand.
"I do."
Tracey bowed her head. "What about us?" She said in a soft voice.
"Trace?" Daphne turned to her, pulled her face to hers so they were touching noses. "What do you mean? I love you. He's just a tool, that's all. I'm using him."
Tracey's eyes glistened. "And what will you do next time? Suck him off? Let him fuck you?"
"Traaace." Daphne said, exasperated. She took Tracey's hand in hers and pulled it down, over her breasts, teasingly, and then underneath her peach-colored frilly panties. "Nobody's getting into my panties but you, okay?"
Harry grinned. The mirror had turned into a window to any room in Hogwarts he desired. "How interesting." He murmured. Who else could he see with this mirror?
The mirror swirled and when Harry blinked, the image was new, this time from the top-down, looking from above Cho Chang as she lied on her front, on her bed. She hummed, scribbling something with her quill, kicking her feet back and forth, clad in Ravenclaw red knee socks. Up above them, she was wearing cute white panties, emblazoned with little Quaffle, bludger and Snitch icons, her bubbly ass swallowing them between her cheeks.
At Harry's mental command, the 'camera' descended, so he could see what she was writing.
Dear Diary,
Back to Hogwarts, and already its too much. Everybody 's treating me like I'm a widow, and I lost my husband in the war. For goodness' sake, I went on one date with the boy, just because Daddy said his Ministry connections would be useful, and now I have to act like a frigid mourner for what? A year? Til Hogwarts ends.
Don 't get me wrong, I'm sad he died. He was a nice guy, even though he got a little gropey after he'd had some of the spiked punch. But his mother sent me a letter asking if I wanted any of his things, to 'hold onto in my grief'. Professor Sprout gave me a houseplant, and told me it was called Cedric, in his honor. She said she was going to talk to Dumbledore, about getting me 'some support'.
All my girlfriends are getting boyfriends, and I 'm going to be wearing black all year. No boys will even approach me, out of respect. Worse still, Harry Potter's shown up this year looking super fuckable, and he won't even look at me. Why why why did I accept Cedric's invitation so quickly? If I'd waited, I could have been Lady Potter three years before Father marries me off to some geriatric.
Can 't wait to have my cherry popped by some fat ancient man on his death bed.
My life sucks.
Better news next time, I hope?
Harry laughed uproariously at her diary, falling back into an armchair the room suddenly created for him. Priceless. He'd never have known she was the dirty sexpot, and not in mourning for her boyfriend. She had a great ass, too, but he'd already known that - she was one of the hottest girls in school, it's why he was daydreaming about her half of last year.
But, he stroked his jaw, did it change his plans? She was still too dangerous to approach, given how easy it would be for others to paint him as a predator, chasing over the girlfriend of the fallen hero Cedric. She'd be a real treasure, but she just wasn't worth the risk. Not yet, at least.
He swiped away the vision and the mirror itself, instead turning to Narcissa's letters. First, her photo. Harry groaned as he lay eyes upon her. The photo was taken from far above her bed, on her ceiling, looking down on the bed as Narcissa writhed amongst her sheets, her hand buried underneath her rose-colored panties, questing fingers briefly visible underneath the floral lace side panels, but their target, her treasure, was hidden from view by the opaque satin crotch. She bit her lip, paused, and then smiled luxuriously up at the camera, before suddenly rolling out of view.
Minx. Harry was rock hard, but she was miles away. A problem, but not for him. He whipped on his invisibility cloak. As long as he was back in the morning, Dumbledore's detector wards wouldn't alert the Headmaster as being off of school grounds. Even if they did, he could always claim family business. He'd walk down to the edge of the Hogwarts grounds and apparate into her bedroom, so he could fuck the teasing harlot senseless.
A smile crossed his face. He couldn't wait.