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"Do you really have to leave, my Lord?" Narcissa groaned, wrapping her naked legs around his, peppering kisses to his neck and cheek.
Harry laughed, drained of his energy as he lay back and stared at the cream ceiling, the same place her photograph had been taken from, now outlined with a golden trim of sideboards, before descending into a decadent deep red walls, twirling with white and gold patterns; lilies and stags. Subtle, Narcissa was not, but clearly she'd been busy, redesigning her boudoir, making her play to be his wife in all things.
The bed too had Potter red blankets on top of cream sheets, luxurious and silken to the touch. If he'd actually gotten more than an hour or two of sleep, he was sure he'd have felt well rested. Narcissa had been just as ravenous as him, though, teasing him with her hands after he'd first finished in her, treating him to a long, debauched blowjob after he was spent a second time, rubbing her lips along her cockhead, swirling her tongue around his balls, planting her red lipstick all over his shaft. This morning, she'd woken him simply by riding him, and he'd just planted his hands on her thick hips as she bounced, grinded and enjoyed herself. And enjoyed herself, she had, giggling as she dipped her huge pendulous breasts to smother him, riding him harder as he squeezed and mauled her asscheeks, and finally letting out a keening wail as they came together.
"You might pop if I shoot inside of you anymore." He toyed with her hair as she kissed his collarbone. She was an irresistible temptress. Narcissa swept a hand over her curved stomach, overwhelmingly full from taking his seed thrice, like she was pregnant and just days from delivering..
"My Lord is so virile, he has to be careful where he relieves himself." She teased, grabbing his arm in her own and guiding his fingers down to her swollen petals. He spread them obediently, and a flood of his hot load gushed down her bottom. They both watched in fascination. Aware of his gaze, his predilections, her fingers caught some of his sticky seed and brought it to her lips to be slowly sucked, her eyes meeting his, her long eyelashes closing with pleasure.
"Your Lord needs to go back to Hogwarts." Harry stated, though his voice wasn't as sure as he wanted.
"Harry…" She moaned throatily, her hands shooting out to grab his semi-hard shaft. "I can't get enough of you."
"Soon, my sweet. I'll come back for a whole weekend, how about that?" He promised.
"Promise?"
"Promise."
She lit up, her happy smile turning her into a giddy teenager once more, and Harry could tell she was already planning the debauchery.
"I'll wear something naughty for you." Cissy declared.
He gave her ass an affectionate squeeze and reluctantly rolled out of bed. Cissy made a groan as she tried and failed to rise, her huge stomach and aching muscles protesting.
"Rest, sweetheart." Harry instructed. "You'll need time to process all that magic. Spend a few hours in bed. That's an order."
She pouted. "I wanted to make you breakfast before you left. I've been practising for you. Tibby and the other Elves have been furious."
"Next time. Good work on the letters. Send them out immediately. I don't want any negotiation. They've had years without paying their dues to House Potter. If the business is in good standing, and they're still not paying, get the solicitors' to send in the Goblins."
"Yes, My Lord."
"I'm working on Abbott and Bones at the moment. Abbott will be mine soon, a nice bonus, but Bones is still playing hard to get. I told her I was thinking of making her Lady Potter."
Cissy swallowed, hard. As a soon-to-be widow, a mother, and an older woman, she could never have expected to be the new Lady Potter. But she'd hoped.
"It's a wise choice, my Lord." She said diplomatically.
"Is it?" Harry scowled at her. "I didn't claim you so you could agree with everything I say and do, Narcissa."
"Bones and Potter combined would make for a sizeable voting bloc in the Wizengamot, my Lord." Narcissa pursed her lips. "But it would come with it's own difficulties. An expectation to align with the Ministry. Even though Susan's aunt is more open-minded than most, you'd still be sidelining the creatures; the vampires, the Werewolves, the Giants."
"And the Purebloods?"
"Purebloods are mostly concerned with money. That means that a lot of them are aligned with Dark at the moment. But, a Potter-Bones coalition would be hugely popular among the common people, the optics, her background as a victim of the Dark Lord, your own brand." She cocked her head, thinking, somehow looking sophisticated even as she lay, propped up own pillows for his gaze, his seed leaking out of her netherlips. "The Purebloods wouldn't want to oppose you directly."
"What other choices do I have?" He asked as he dressed himself, casting a quick spell to wash away the sweat and sex.
"Greengrass, the older, would give you access to the Dark."
"Even after Voldemort tried to kill them?"
"Especially then. Sheltering a family from Voldemort, the first family to be safe when the Dark Lord really wanted them dead, that would be a powerful image. Greengrasses are all about money, and the Dark would know that their economic interests would be protected. Free market without Ministry regulations, and keeping the status quo on the same tax regulations that Fudge introduced under my husband's direction, the ones that so benefit us."
"You sound like you prefer Daphne?"
Narcissa arched a brow.
Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "We met properly on the train. I'm keeping my options open."
"She doesn't seem like a girl easily seduced, from what little I know of her."
He grinned. "It's not your classic seduction."
She shook her head, caressing her inflated stomach. It seemed to calm her. "I don't necessarily prefer her. But she wouldn't exclude your interests in the Light in the same way that Bones would push away the Dark. Harry Potter, the savior who saved her family, protects her, falls in love. That's a great story."
Harry hummed as he pulled on his Gryffindor tie, trying in vain to settle his tousled hair.
"Anyone else?"
"I would have said Chang, a year ago."
"Cho?" Harry said, surprised.
"They're relatively new, but they mean business. They've got real wealth, and real connections with China. Lucius always suspected they had official support from the Chinese magical government. When they get involved in an industry, the incumbent parties tend to find themselves dead, or moving out of town. Nobody really likes them, but nobody likes 'new money'. It doesn't matter much, if they have China's resources behind them, they can make moves anywhere in the world."
She slunk out of bed and fixed his tie for him, unable to meet his eyes.
He squeezed her bottom. "Don't worry, Cissy." He read her emotions. "I'll always have time for you." Harry gave her a deep, long kiss, Narcissa clutching at his robes with her fists, nipping at his lip. He pulled away and Apparated.
Narcissa swooned, suddenly weightless, falling onto the bed. She scooched under the blanket and sighed contentedly into her pillow, dreamily stroking her stomach. The pillow smelled like him.
***
Draco Malfoy coughed to alert his allies, as Potter left the Great Hall. The boy had come in late, tired bags under his eyes, though he was grinning broadly, causing some speculation and titters from the vacant girls that seemed to populate Hogwarts this year. He'd sat with the usual crowd, the bushy-haired know it all closer than usual, and the gormless Weasley stuffing his face. Potter had been eating just as much, to Draco's delight. If he was full and bloated, that would make this easier.
Not that they were expecting trouble. They left the Great Hall one by one, leaving a confused Goyle by himself. Flint didn't want the dumb boy and Draco wasn't about to argue, not this time. Draco forced his ego down — this time, he had to take a backseat. This wasn't about rivalry or pranks — this was a private order, a paid order.
Marcus Flint led the chasing group, quietly following Potter through the maze of Hogwarts moving staircases and hallways. Usually, they wouldn't bring Flint with them, on their 'security missions' they made their coin from. But the client had paid good money, and Potter was no ordinary quarry. Draco didn't believe the press puff-pieces about Potter fighting off Death Eaters. His father was a Death Eater, and he knew that Potter wasn't strong enough to fight them, not yet. Potter was powerful, there was no doubt about that.
But three against one, including Flint, a seventh year? No chance.
"Now." Flint ordered, as Potter turned the corner into what the lower-years called Dead Hogwarts. The part of the castle that was cold, dark, and dusty, full of cobwebs and creepy singing ghosts. No lessons, no Common Rooms, no classrooms were found in Dead Hogwarts, it was just the territory of brave couples or anyone up to no good.
They turned the corner.
"Hello, gentlemen." Potter waited for them, his wand raised, a smirk on his pale lips.
"Potter." Flint spat.
"What's this all about?"
"Sending a message. Stay away from Greengrass." Crabbe grunted.
"Ah, and here comes the 'Or else?', is that right?" Potter smiled pleasantly, like he was exchanging banter at The Three Broomsticks.
"That's right." They spread out around him, encircling him.
"Before we do this," Potter cracked his shoulder, waving it around and rubbing the aches out. "I want you to know that even after this fight ends badly for you, I won't hold any ill will toward you. I'll still accept your support, when the time comes to submit. Keep working, keep getting more powerful, and you'll find you don't need to follow your fathers, if you don't want to."
"Potter," Draco found himself saying. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
Harry smiled at him, the Witch Weekly cover made flesh. "You'll understand when the time comes.
"Stop the mind-games, Potter." Flint snarled. "Crucio." He swept his hand down. A red light flashed toward Harry, who did a neat pirouette with his feet. Behind him, Crabbe cried out in agony as he was hit.
"Oh," Harry put his hand to his mouth in mock horror. "How unfortunate." Flint released his Cruciatus as soon as he realized, but that still left Crabbe twitching on the ground.
Draco focused as he finished his transfiguration, the vines growing up from underneath the stone floor, sweat dripping from his brow. It was a difficult transformation, from spiders to vines, but it was something he was proud of. Family magic. Something that proved he wasn't the dunce that Father sometimes treated him as. The vines rose up around Potter's feet and twisted around his legs.
"Draco!" Potter crowed in delight, absently batting away a curse from Flint. "That's your daddy's magic!"
"Surrender, and maybe we won't snap your wand, Potter." Draco growled. How did Potter know of the Malfoy Vines? The vines grew longer, rooting him completely, but still Flint couldn't land a bloody curse. Crabbe foamed from the mouth.
"I'm not French, Draco." Potter admonished. He muttered something suddenly, and Flint's spell hit a golden-tinged shield. "Ooh, that was a nasty spell, Marcus. The book you learned that from is quite illegal, you know?"
Flint snarled, casting curse after curse, each splashing harmlessly into Potter's shield. "Impressive power, but you're not quite fully developed yet." Harry rubbed the back of his head. "Although, now I think about it, neither am I." Draco couldn't believe his eyes. Potter was completely stationary, defending against both his and Flint's spells with purely his shielding.
"Now," Potter continued his lecture, all while the vines continued to grow up his side. Once they'd reached his arms, restricting them, he was finished. "Draco, your vines are a beautiful magic. Something your family stole from South Africa, back in the day, I believe? They have two main flaws. One, of course, they do no harm. They have me still, but they don't harm me, or prevent me from performing magic. And two, they are, at their core, runic-based intent magic. You imagine the effect, you draw the runes for nature and well, bondage."
Harry laughed and blushed suddenly. "Sorry, Draco. You'd rather not know. But here's a history lesson. Your family spell was based on an famous Zulu witch called Liyana. History tells us she was a dominatrix, of sorts, or as close as they had, back then. A siren, a witch who did a sex-based magic, similar to that we saw in India, hundreds of years earlier. Still with me?"
Flint was red and raging. "Shut the fuck up, Potter! Die, you stupid fucking cunt!"
"Rude." Harry shook his head and shot a Silencing Charm at him. "Now, Draco. Liyana was a tough old broad. She'd seduce the invading Brits, take them to bed, and then rope them up and crush their heads between her thighs. She'd rope them up on pikes, in the morning, their dicks cut off, their faces covered in their own semen. I know, right? A little too kinky, even for me. She got popular as a face of resistance, got her own followers, her own little cult. And that cult, Liyana's lusty witches, passed on Liyana's vines until the area was conquered by the Brits, and probably, your colonial great-grand-father. Somehow, Grandpappy Malfoy learnt the magic, which is why you know it. Don't ask why I know it, that's a weird memory for everybody involved."
Draco considered dropping his wand and running away. Would Potter let him? But the vines were so close to wrapping his arms up now. He didn't even bother unsilencing Flint. What good would it do?
Potter shook his finger. "Now, the reason I'm telling you this story is because the vines have a second flaw, based on their sex-based origin. Because these Zulu witches would never let a British man go once they'd caught them - that's the famous story about them. Once you're caught by them, there's no letting go. But, these witches wanted to use these same vines with their beloved husbands and partners, right? So, they spelled it so the vines dissipate only when they are brushed by drops of female arousal, allowing them to use it in their personal time. Crazy, right? Just like British witches use the magic of Morgana for all sorts of things, these Zulu witches use their matriarchal magic, feminine magic, mother's magic, to power their own."
"Potter," Draco started. He didn't even know what he would say.
"I know, it's unhygienic. A little embarrassing really. But, Vincent, Marcus, Draco, the truth is," Harry grinned rakishly. "I haven't washed my hands since I fucked your mother."
And with that, he swiped his hands along the vines, and instantly, they hissed and retreated immediately, vanishing into the stones. And suddenly, Harry was free. A single spell and Flint was banished, head cracking into the wall. Another, and Crabbe was roped up and hanging upside down. And then, only Draco was left.
He tried to walk away, but he couldn't. Potter met his eyes, and suddenly he had a headache, a sudden flash of a memory, of Tracey paying him to ensure Potter stayed away from Daphne.
Potter smirked, muttered a simple Stunning Spell, and Draco collapsed.
***
Harry took a sip of Pepper-up Potion, wafting away the smoke that hissed from his ears. He didn't need the whole thing, but Narcissa had wore him out, and he wanted to have some energy to deal with Daphne. Tracey had made a massive mistake, and he doubted Daphne knew anything about it. She wouldn't have trusted Draco and his goons to take him down, not when she'd seen him fight. Still though, Daphne would be the one to pay, he'd decided. It was the perfect leverage.
He sat against the stone wall, Hogwarts heating it for him, waiting under the Invisibility Cloak for Daphne. She'd be leaving Charms right now, and the Marauders Map showed her walking to the Dungeons. Three, two, one...and there she was. Proud and straight, accompanied only by the tap-tap-tap of her three-inch black cone heels. Harry swished his wand and the broom closet door swung opened. Harry pushed her inside of it, and with a mutter, enlargened it, conjured a big thick red cushion on the floor, and turned on the lights. He wanted to see what he was about to do.
"Potter, what the fuck?" Daphne spat, trembling a little.
"I should say the same thing. I just got attacked by Malfoy, Flint and Crabbe in Dead Hogwarts."
"What the fuck does that have to do with me?"
"Well, I made the little birdies sing and they said Tracey sent them."
Daphne's eyes widened in genuine alarm. "That's - that's a lie."
"Is it? I did some Legilimency, saw the memory of her asking them. Apparently, she knows about me and you on the train, and wanted to warn me off. Ring any bells? What did you think would happened when you told her?"
"I didn't tell her." Daphne swallowed. "She didn't do it, this is a set up."
Harry smirked. "Really? So you didn't tell your secret lover that I jacked all over you, and covered you in my cum. Did you tell her that when I left, you tasted it, dipped your finger in my seed, tasted it on your lips? Pure magic."
"I didn't fucking do that, Potter, spare me your male fantasies." She barked, though she didn't meet his eyes.
"It doesn't matter to me either way. I've come for my pound of flesh. I can take it out of you, or I can take it from Tracey. You wanted my protection, we agreed a deal, and then the first day, you got your lover to attack me?"
"That's not what happened." Daphne said sullenly.
"Isn't it? Then what did?"
She stayed silent, unable to reply, unwilling to implicate Tracey.
"So, either I declare a Feud of Houses with House Davis, ensuring she doesn't work for anyone worthwhile when she leaves Hogwarts, ensuring she can't enter any of the properties House Potter owns in Diagon Alley, in Hogsmeade, or you suck my cock, right now. It's your choice, I'm happy either way." Harry buffed his nails unconcernedly.
"Potter, Harry," Daphne started, trying to placate to him.
"There's the cushion, there. Aren't I the gentleman?" He conjured up a red cushion, with gold tassles. It was emblazoned with the Potter clan seal.
Daphne took a deep breath and sank to her knees. "Fuck you, Potter." She muttered uselessly.
"Good girl. I know you couldn't wait for your next taste." He waved his wand and was completely naked, his shaft hardening at her surly expression. He grabbed her long brunette tresses, enjoying the glossy feel of her well-cared for hair.
"You have beautiful hair." He said sincerely. He gathered it up gently, then used it to push her face forward, until his cock was tracing over her skin, over her forehead and down her cheeks, leaving a glistening trail of his precum. She was trembling a little, but he could see the arousal in his eyes, and just a stab of Legilimency, he could feel her heat as his magic surrounded hers.
Her lips parted, just a little, bee-stung pink lips, the Princess in every way.
"The boys in Gryffindor say you have DSLs. That means dick-sucking lips." Harry informed her with amusement, enjoying the outrage in her eyes. "Are you going to begin?"
She glared up at him but darted her tongue against his cock head, lapping slowly, nervously. He could tell it was her first time. Her hands came up, holding his cock at first for support but then beginning to trace his bulging veins.
He held her head, just to remind her of her position. "It's not a lollipop, sweetheart. Put it in your mouth."
She shook. "I don't know if it will fit." She admitted quietly.
"It will. Mother Magic gave you dick sucking lips, they'll stretch to fit me, believe me."
"You don't need to be so crass!" Daphne growled.
Harry sniffed. "You don't need to be so slow. Do you really want to be caught in here?" There was no chance of that, he'd put on a locking charm, but she didn't need to know that.
Her eyes widened and she gathered her courage, putting his whole purple head into her mouth, with a muffled "Gurrk." She started suckling on his head, her lips closed around his mushroom, her tongue slowly coating it, her eyes closed.
In her head, she felt almost drunk, his manly aroma, his magic, infiltrating her mind. She felt possessed, the smallest tinge of precum she'd tasted like pure butter. Daphne knew she was in trouble. She could get addicted to that taste, that smell. But it was different to the last time, though just as good. But why? She withdrew.
"You smell different." She murmured, then blushed furiously.
Harry smiled at her knowingly. "I didn't shower after last nights and this mornings fun. A lot of women want a piece of this, you know."
Rage, hot and searing, pushed through her. She was Daphne Greengrass, Daddy's little girl, the Princess of Slytherin. She was meant to be worshipped, adored, kissed and caressed. Not sucking on the dried out cum of this asshole's dalliances with some other whore. She opened her mouth to snarl, but he only pushed his cock in when her lips were parted, and suddenly that taste, that smell, consumed her rage and killed it dead. It was divine.
The tip of her tongue extended further, around his shaft, lapping at the dried cum, lapping at the fresh precum, her hands slowing, subconsciously, jacking his cock at the same time.
Harry allowed himself to enjoy the sight of Daphne as she suckled, her blouse a little parted to expose her delicious breasts in a lacy white bra, her skirt having rose up a little on her unbelievably bountiful ass. It was truly absurd, the fattest ass he'd ever seen on such a slim girl, bulging and begging to be smacked. One day, he promised himself.
After ten minutes, Harry decided to change tactics. Her suckling sensation was lovely, but he didn't want to go easy on her - he suspected there were greater depths to be found in Daphne Greengrass. He withdrew.
"No," Daphne whined.
"No?" Harry teased.
"I mean, no time for your freakishly dead cock-nerves, Potter, aren't you close to coming?" Daphne tried to recover.
Harry snorted. "I asked for a blowjob, slut, not for my cockhead to be lollipopped. I can't believe you're useless at both handjobs and blowjobs, you're going to need a lot of training before I find you worthy of my time."
He could tell his shot had landed, as she started questioning herself. Was she really unable to pleasure a man? Outwardly, though, she spat at him. "There's no training to be had, Potter. This is a one time deal, for my family and for Tracey. I couldn't give less of a fuck if I don't satisfy your disgusting perversions."
"Well, I'm not going to cum like this, so I'm just going to have to use your mouth." He gathered up her hair again, wrapping it around his clenched fist.
"No, wait, Pott-" Daphne started before he thrust his cock forward. He distorted her mouth into an unhealthy position, stretching it so wide he could see the whites of her teeth, further and further.
"Oh, fuck." Harry muttered, the wetness of her mouth getting to him. He pulled on her hair, dragging her further as she gagged, struggling with the sheer size of his cock. But there was still so much to go. "My good little Slytherin slut, such a good girl for me." Harry said, feeling like he was in a trance himself. He thrust his cock further, making her heave, obscene sounds emanating as he reached her throat.
"Urrrk," She gagged, as Harry withdrew and thrust again, repeating the motion with a wet schlop schlop schlop as he fucked her throat. Her eyes teared up, but her hands squeezing the base of his shaft, her mind swimming.
"Tonguing Tracey's sweet clam doesn't quite compare to this, does it? A real cock down your throat. What would she think?" Harry taunted. Finally, he withdrew, too close to cumming.
Daphne gasped for breath, hands on his calves for support. He tilted her head up, pointing as his cock, where a line of glistening saliva and wetness, along with a soft red lipstick imprint, showed how far Daphne had descended on his cock. To her dismay, she realized she'd not reached the base.
"You'll have to do better than that, slut. If I'm not satisfied by your performance, I'll have no choice but to see if Tracey can do better."
Daphne didn't reply, light-headed, still wondering how she'd found herself in this position, just moments ago casually walking Hogwarts hallways, now being throat-fucked by Gryffindor's Golden Boy. Her pristine makeup was smeared around her face, her lipstick smudged beyond repair, lips themselves swollen by Harry's abuse. Harry thwacked with his cock, precum spattering her, before inserting it casually between her lips, as she took deep, heavy breaths. Even his precum was freakish, Daphne thought, almost like a full cum-load from a normal wizard. Pansy had shared dirty magazines with the Slytherin girls, and they'd giggled and mocked at the moving photos as some poor girl got glazed by Randy Roger, the Wizarding World's most famous, old, much derided, pornstar. Daphne had found it difficult to laugh at the mustachioed old man, flexing his muscles, a man stuck in the 70s, and had felt nothing as he let out a few dribbles over the girl's face. Randy Roger was famous for his big cum loads, but he barely produced more than Potter's precum, constantly leaking, spurting, splattering her.
Her mouth was full of his cum, and she had to swallow constantly, but in a way, it was the only thing saving her, providing a neverending supply of thick, gooey jizz to lube her battered throat. Worst of all, it tasted incredible, pure magic from the Wizarding World's most ancient House. Potter magic was famous for a reason, and she could feel her magic pools rejuvenated, her very veins detoxifying. And the smell, strong, rich scent of man, clouded her very mind.
Harry had gotten bored of the break he'd given her, and without warning, he forced his cock again deep into her mouth, down her throat, but this time he was giving no mercy. He had both hands in her hair, forcing her head back and forth, fucking her face. His long thick dick stretched down her tight gullet, Daphne trying to swallow but only succeeding in making it even more tight, more pleasurable for his questing shaft. Saliva and strings of cum dribbled from her lips, a white gloop descending from her chin and onto her blouse, her chest.
Her sea-blue eyes, those famous icy eyes, the ones that glared at all the boys for leering, looked up at him, wide and doe like, pleading him for what? More? Mercy? Even she didn't know, and Harry didn't care. He thrust again and again, burying his cock until finally he was balls-deep, his huge swinging testes pressed against her face, her throat inhumanly swollen by his member.
"Gluurk glurrk gaaah," She heaved and gurgled as he fucked her face, to the rhythm of the thwack-thwack-thwack of his balls slapping against her, and squishy slop-slop-slop wetness of her throat.
"Dirty whore, I knew you could do it." Harry crowed. "My whole cock, completely down your throat! Your daddy would be so proud."
"Mmmph!" Daphne's eyes widened, her eyeliner running down her cheeks.
"You want it, don't you? Your reward for being such a good whore for me. All that magic cum, just for you?"
"Gurrk." She attempted a glare, but Harry could feel her tongue tracing his cock, her throat tightening for him, her attempts to inhale even more of him.
"If you want it, put your hands on my ass and push me into you. I need to go that final inch before I can cum." Harry said, one last taunt.
She did nothing.
"Or we can be here all day."
Finally, resentfully, she pressed her hands to his buttocks and pushed him even further inside, her lips pressed against his pelvis. Harry stroked her hair, and for a moment they were both still, both acknowledging her submission, him in delight, her in despair. And then he began pounding, fucking her face, coming to his climax.
"Here it comes," He growled as he held her head, skewering her again and again, pumping her poor abused mouth, still dribbling out his cum. The heat, the wetness, the tightness of her throat, Harry couldn't handle it, not with the fire in her eyes, the cum all over her face, dripping down her chin, the wet sounds of her throat, her splutters. He rolled his hips and unleashed a torrent of cum, spurting from his tip directly into her stomach, thick gooey loads flooding into her.
Harry sighed, in paradise, feeling like he was unleashing his very soul. On and on it went, spewing down his spunk, a tap that he couldn't turn off, her stomach filling up like a car being filled with petrol. This was her place in life. She swam, barely conscious, just making swallowing motions, inhaling, as Harry withdrew a little with every spurt of his jizz, until he was out of her throat, and just cumming into his mouth.
"Mmmm—" Daphne moaned as she ingested his cum, lapping, swallowing, eyes closed with pleasure, only barely cognisant of where she was, what she was swallowing. She just needed more of the magic, rich, gooey seed. And then it was gone, Harry laughing as she felt him paint her face with the last few shots.
Harry directed his cock over her forehead, her cheeks, painting with his gloopy ropes, thickly coating her in her cream, over her closed eyelids, watching it drizzle down slowly, until her whole face was covered white, dark hair stuck in places to her skin with the glue, face barely recognizable under the sheer mass of it.
Daphne moaned, feeling like she was about to faint. How long had he just came for? It felt like both seconds and hours had passed. What had she done? How could she face Potter after this? Or Tracey? Or her family? Yet when Potter placed his finally-finished cock in her mouth, she suckled obediently, cleaning him until he pushed her back. Harry hid his smirk at her submissiveness; he hadn't even performed the ritual bond yet, he'd need to cum inside her for that, but she couldn't deny the feelings of safety, of warmth, that his powerful magic gave her. In his head, he thanked Morgana again, for creating the dynamic of witches under wizards - too long had it been forgotten.
He gently pushed Daphne away when she'd cleaned him, and if she was in a trance, she pulled back, hugging herself. With a soft gasp, she noticed the new state of her stomach, curved out, inflated with his seed.
"How?" She murmured, oddly calm. She stroked her stomach softly, entranced.
"You drank all that, Daphne."
"What are you?" Daphne asked wondrously, idly swiping some of his cum globs from her eyes, still on her knees, leaning against his legs.
"That's how powerful I am." He stroked her hair, and she marvelled at his sudden difference, from throat-abuser to benevolent hair stroker. He had two faces, and both scared her and aroused her. "That's what I'm offering you."
He scooped up some of his thick cum with two fingers and fed it to her, her lips sealed around them.
"A place at your knees?" Daphne said quietly.
"A place at my side."
Daphne leaned against his legs as he stroked her hair, too exhausted to keep up the pretence that it didn't feel good, that she didn't want it.
"You wouldn't take me as Lady Potter, the PR wouldn't work." Daphne argued.
"Maybe, maybe not. It's too early to say. But that's not the position I'm talking about. I'm talking about being my most trusted, my enforcer."
"Your right hand."
"No. My wand, when I need to cast. My scout, when I need to see. My stick, when the carrot doesn't work."
"Why me?"
"You're smart, powerful. You're not innocent, you're not easy. I need an enforcer I can trust to do what's necessary, and to make sure it never gets back to me."
"The Greengrass name is too public to make me into what you want."
Harry smiled mysteriously. "You don't understand yet how big I'm thinking, the scale of my ambitions. You're going to be the head of a team of hammers and scalpels."
Daphne's blouse had burst open when her stomach filled, the buttons flying off, and she went to recover the buttons. Unsteady, tired, she stumbled, as soon as she fell, into the lap of a suddenly sitting Harry, the chair conjured without a word.
"Potter," She whined, as she felt his hands immediately begin to roam.
"What?"
"I can't — I won't stop you. But please don't take me."
His hands slipped under her skirt, under her soaking thong, fingers sliding luxuriously through her wet petals. She arched under his touch, so sensitive.
"Okay, Daphne." His breath hot against her ear. "But make sure you think. You know, as I do, what witches want, particularly Slytherin witches. You want safety, there is no place safer than under my wing. You want power, I offer you power beyond your wildest dreams. I can make you into a witch feared, respected, remembered by history." She shivered at his words, feeling like he was speaking into her very essence.
"But there is a huge advantage to getting in early. I only have one witch that belongs to me, right now. In a month, that might be ten. I'm not slowing down. If you wait too long…" He trailed off.
"I understand." She moaned as he stopped his ministrations, leaving her hot and bothered. Harry pulled her thong down her long, creamy legs, and laid her on a conjured bed. Daphne blinked - his magic was strong and he moved so fast, it felt like she was living in a world of his creation.
Then, he was standing five feet from her, and she felt cold.
"Rest, now. The Locking Charm will stick until you're ready to leave. Your stomach should go down in a few hours. Let your body process all that magic. And before you have a nap, eat the rest of it off your face - you'll appreciate the boost in power you get."
"Okay." Daphne nodded, entwining her legs so he couldn't see her now bare, sopping, pussy, feeling oddly self-conscious even after all he'd done to her. She felt so hot, down there, the warmth travelling up from her toes to envelop her, and she couldn't wait for him to leave so she could frig herself silly with one hand and slurp up all his delicious cum with the other.
Harry smirked at her, as if he knew what she planned, and vanished.
Harry grinned as he left. Progress. It was just a matter of time. She was a natural submissive, a princess that wanted to be told what to do and where to sit. She wouldn't find a more natural Master than him.