"I like it when we're in bed and he just holds me really tight."
Apolline spat out her wine, laughing so hard she almost toppled over on her high heels. "Oh, come on Narcissa! I told you that my favorite with 'Arry is when he has me on my hands and knees and he tugs my head back, his hand in my hair and he pounds my pussy like I'm a cheap whore, and you tell me it's when he holds you?"
Narcissa went red, staring down at the floor. "I'm not used to talking about things like, they're private, it's between a man and his wife."
"Narcissa-"
"I like it when he calls me Cissy."
"I'm not accepting zat as an answer." Narcissa had noticed Apolline's French accent got more involved, the more wine she drank. "'Arry will have many, many women. You know this. We don't have to like it, but there will be nothing private, in the end. He will be the biggest playboy of all time."
"It's not like that!" Narcissa burst out, angry that his name was being besmirched. "He has to!"
"Narcissa - Cissy - I know." Apolline held her hands up. "I know. I'm not accusing him of anything. My love must take all the women he can."
"We must never discourage him." Cissy sniffed, spine straightening even more than usual. She hesitated, blinking away wet eyes. "Or he'll die and it'll be our fault!"
"Cissy," Apolline gripped her hand tightly, her eyes tearing up a little. "We're not going to let that happen. We're going to give him all of our love, and get him all the support he needs. He's going to take my daughter soon, and I'm going to get him into the Veela Court, and he's going to take all of them too."
Narcissa dabbing at her face with a handkerchief. Harry's handkerchief, from the stack she'd ordered for him. Embroidered Acromantula silk. "He's going to take your daughter?"
"He is. My eldest, Fleur." Apolline smiled broadly. "I can't wait until she can feel his love, and Fleur and I can drown him in our love."
Narcissa blinked. "That's so wonderful. Harry says he'll take my daughter too, to make us a family again."
"You have a daughter?"
She nodded shakily. "My dear departed husband," She spat out, "Took her from me at birth and memory charmed me to forget. She's Harry's age, in Durmstrang. I sent her a letter asking for a meeting, I'm just hoping she writes back. That was three days ago."
"I'm sure she will." Apolline rubbed her shoulder comfortingly. "It looks like Harry's got a fetish, non? Ze mother and daughter. A fetish only we can provide for, zat is the best fetish."
Cissy giggled. They fell into a silence, only this time it was a comfortable one.
"I like it when he fills me up with his cum." Narcissa announced suddenly, staring at the floor, fidgeting. "He wraps his arms around me, goes as deep as he can go and just unleashes within me, and it feels like he's giving me his everything, breeding me, making me his, allowing me to raise his child. It feels so hot inside of me, and I can just feel all the gallons of his cum, and, and," Narcissa took a deep, erotic breath. "And it's evidence that he loves me. And then, because his loads are so massive, because he's so masculine, he pulls out and just unloads all over my face," She squirmed her thighs together, hand dropping to her breasts. "Treating me like a possession, showing that I'm his."
Apolline moaned alongside her. "Putain, you're going to make me soak your marble floors."
Narcissa smiled, hand covering up her unladylike giggles. "We're such sluts for Harry."
"And we wouldn't have it any other way." Apolline agreed. "By the way, is your owl a beautiful hazel-colored great horned owl? She is at the window."
"What?!" Narcissa snapped to her feet, rushing over to the owl and grabbing the letter from its claws. Her hands were shaking. Her daughter. "Oh, I simply can't read it, I'm too nervous. Can you read it?" She realized.
"Sit down, Narcissa." Apolline ordered. She unfolded it. "It simply reads. Ok, we can meet. 3pm, Saturday, Schwerin Cathedral."
"She hates me!" Narcissa declared, distraught.
"Don't be silly, woman." Apolline scolded her. "She's just nervous, scared of a trap. She doesn't know what to say so she says nothing at all."
Narcissa rocked back and forth. "My own daughter, and I can't help her. She won't want to know me, she won't want any rules, or guidance or any parent figure."
Apolline wrapped her arm around her. "'Arry will take her for you. He'll make it so she'll never leave your side. Why don't we write to him? That will make you feel better."
Narcissa bit her lip. "Are you sure?"
"You can send him a dirty picture of us, so he rushes over and fucks us until we can't breathe." Apolline teased.
"Oh, you're so vulgar!" Narcissa cried. Then, she smiled, and Apolline realized why her beauty had captured Harry. She had a wonderful, teasing smile. "Let's do it."
###
Helena stuck a few errant strands of hair behind her ear and took a deep breath. She was nervous, and she didn't like it. One letter, and her whole world had been upended. One letter, from the mother she'd never met, telling her that her father had lied to her, for her whole life. Helena had known her father was an asshole. A Dark Lord's boot-licking blood supremacist who barely remembered to send her money each year.
But he'd still been her father. The one who got her in Durmstrang, who sent her to live with her her adoptive parents, Sofia and Henri. The one who sent her money each year, money that allowed her, if not be on top of Durmstrong's social echelons, at least not be eaten up by them. With him dead, her future looked very bleak.
Unless she bought into what Narcissa Malfoy was saying, the mother who'd never wanted her.
Schwerin was an odd town, white brick buildings with grey or fed brick roofed, all so much smaller than the cathedral that dominated it. On the coast of Lake Schwerin, it was a town that looked like it had been told it should be beautiful, and agreed, but very reluctantly. At certain angles, the photographer's angles, it was idyllic. But the tourists still didn't come, going instead to the romantic huge castle on the island in the lake. And so the white brick became a little dirtier, the streets a little less clean, and on grey, foggy days, Helena imagined it felt a bit like being in England.
The town's cathedral was the pride of the people, and they quickly redirected any tourists that came accidentally to the castle that they were actually looking for. In another town, the cathedral would have decried as ugly, baked red brick shaped into a huge gothic building, the towering spire standing tall over the whole town. But in Schwerin, it was just right.
And, at the entrance steps, a woman who looked more suited for the streets of Paris or Milan. Helena took a short sharp breath. Her mother was beautiful, of course. She still looked impossibly young, with a curvaceous hourglass body that was attracting more than a few glances in a simple black fitted dress. She clutched her purse to her hip and smiled widely as she spotted Helena.
"Helena!" Narcissa cried out. "Merlin, I've waited so long. Can I hug you?"
"No." Helena ground out. "Shall we walk? I know a cafe."
"Right, of course." Narcissa smoothed down an invisible wrinkle and followed as Helena didn't slow down. "I have so much to say, so much to ask. You're so pretty. I love your hair. Are you doing well at school? What are your favorite subjects?"
Helena collapsed into the plastic seats of the outdoor cafe, hiding her amusement as Narcissa peered at the establishment dubiously. The cheap American icecream ice-chest was beset by menus and napkins that flew off in the wind. She perched into a seat slowly.
"Why are you meeting me now?" Helena said simply, frowning.
Narcissa reached her hands across the table. "Helena, I didn't know. I didn't know. Your father memory charmed me when you and Draco were born, to convince me that Draco was my only child. It's just like I said in my letter."
"And now you've found out, conveniently, as I'm hitting marriage age?"
Narcissa frowned. "Helena, your father admitted it to me on his death bed. If I'd known you existed, I would have done anything to bring you home. I love you. I want you to come home. I want to get to know you. I'll look after you." Her eyes glistened. "You can go to Hogwarts. I know it's late, maybe it's too late, but we can start a relationship." Her hands reached a little further, but she still couldn't reach Helena.
"I don't want to start playing happy families with you, thanks." Helena spat. She couldn't believe the gall of the woman, to think she could start being her mother after leaving her alone for sixteen years. "I have a family."
"And I'm sure they love you. I'd love to meet them. But can they support you? Can they pay for your education? Will they put a roof over your heads after school? Will they help you get a job?"
Helena swallowed. Sofia and Henri were poor, just farmers that Lucius had paid off, really.
"How did my father die?" Helena changed the subject abruptly.
Narcissa swallowed. "It's not really a…" She trailed off.
"Did you kill him?" Helena frowned.
"No!" She growled. "He was…you know what he was. He died in the Dark Lord's duty."
"Are you one of the Dark Lord's pets too?"
Narcissa shook her head. "No, not at all."
"How can I trust you?"
Her mother looked at her with wide, blue eyes, the same eyes she had. "I'm your mother, Helena. I want the best for you. If you can believe anything, believe that."
The breeze picked up. The waiter brought out their drinks. Helena had a lime and soda. Narcissa stuck to the water.
They drank, the silence dragging on, broken only by the sounds of the city, and a couple at the other table arguing about who should pay the bill.
"I want you to live-" Narcissa started.
Helena growled. "So you can marry me off to some old prick with the most Wizengamot votes, or the most money? I know how it works."
"Helena, would you just listen to me for one second? I would never-"
"Malfoy's do whatever it takes to get ahead. My father taught me that much, if nothing else."
"And I was a Black. I was married off and I hated it. I would never do that."
Helena snorted. "And you have a choice? A Malfoy family that has lost its head? It's never been weaker."
"I know how to run a family." Narcissa said firmly. "I don't need a man."
Helena shook her long hair back, absently tying it into a ponytail. She glared at the man passing by, staring at her.
"You are beautiful. Don't hide it." Narcissa smiled.
Helena rolled her eyes. Advice from her fashionista trophy wife mother, that's what she needed. Her words made her scan her mother, though. The black dress, tight on her shapely figure, bare on her shoulders. The high heels, emphasizing her legs, pushing up that big bottom.
Helena laughed, all of a sudden. "It looks like you're already getting some dick, huh? Is this his idea? Father would be so proud." She pushed off from the table, spilling Narcissa's drink all over her dress, and stood sharply. "Thanks, but no thanks."
She stalked off, her shoes heavy on the pavement, and blinked away the wetness of her eyes. If something sounded too good to be true, then it definitely was. Durmstrang had taught her that much.
Fuck, she needed a drink. Even under the grey sky, it was a Saturday, and the streets were teeming with people. Shoulders knocked through her, glances overlooked her. Boys with their girlfriends, parents with their families, happy and rich, darting from shop window to shop window. Muggles, but still, they seemed content.
Helena took a deep, drawn out breath, and it scratched her throat, the well of emotion threatening to bubble up into full on tears and snot. She wanted to be someone to someone, to belong. In Durmstrang, she went under the fake name of Helena Meyer, the anonymous girl with no connections, few friends, the one that didn't go out on the town on the weekends, and that wore slightly threadbare robes. Sofia and Henri were expecting her, back on the farm with the cows and the shit.
Down the street, and she found herself staring up at a fancy hotel. The big hotel had marble steps, covered by a canopy of hanging flowers, leading up to a foyer, which she could see into from the street. It looked warm and sunny, and lit from an impressive skylight. At the check-in desk, a handsome man pressed his hand against his companion's bare back, her heels in her hand as she leaned against his shoulder. Through the window, she could see the clientele at the bar and the restaurant. The men in their suits, women in flouncy sundresses or tight fitted things. Rich and beautiful - in another life, it could have been her.
But maybe for a few hours, she could pretend.
She muttered a spell and the entrance's hanging flowerpots crashed to the ground. In the commotion, she slipped past, smirking to herself.
The bar was busy, but she sat on a stool like she belonged. Next to her was a devastatingly handsome young man, suited and booted, with sharp cheekbones like he was royalty himself. He paid her no attention, and neither did the bartender until she coughed loudly.
"Can I just get a beer?" Helena found herself asking.
"Of course, miss. But the bar is open only to the patrons of the restaurant or the hotel." The bartender's eyes scanned her dress, his eyes tightening. "If you aren't a patron, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave."
Helena swallowed, and imagined the ground would swallow her up too, taking her away. Her eyelashes fluttered, tears threatening to come on. Of course this wouldn't work. She didn't belong.
"It's okay, she's with me." A confident voice sounded - the handsome man. "She'll have a peach bellini, and she'll be joining me at my table when it's ready."
"Of course, sir. Right away." The bartender swept away.
Helena took a deep breath as her rescuer turned to her. He had the most incredible emerald eyes. His shirt was loose, unbuttoned, showing off an expensive-looking gold chain.
"Thank you." She exhaled loudly.
"No trouble." He smiled. He had a kind smile. "Rough day?"
"Yeah. Really, really, rough." Helena laughed, relaxing for the first time all day.
"You know," He leaned over. "As long as you're not doing it in front of their Aurors, you can always transfigure yourself some Muggle money. If you stick to normal amounts, they won't find out."
Helena gaped at him, and then broke out laughing. The super handsome, obviously rich guy, was a wizard too? "How did you know I was a witch?"
He smiled at her. "Your wand is poking out from your sleeve."
She blushed and shoved it back in, wondering if she could get away with subtly undoing another button on her blouse.
"Are you Durmstrang?" She had to be careful - her school was a pit of vipers.
He laughed. "No, no. I'm a Hogwarts boy. Tom Riddle is the name, it's nice to meet you."
"Helena. Helena Mayer."
"Helena. That's a beautiful name for a beautiful girl."
Helena rolled her eyes, unable to stop her smile. "Well, Tom Riddle of Hogwarts, is that what you do on your weekends? Floo to Germany and hit on the local girls? Your German is pretty impressive."
Tom sipped from his wine, watching her drink her bellini. "I do travel a lot, trying to spend all the dirty family money, you know? Trying to get the bank accounts down enough so I can sleep at night." He said, a little sarcasm in my voice.
"You're pureblood?"
Helena didn't buy into the supremacy nonsense...but she still had standards. Muggleborns just wouldn't be able to advance enough into society to be a suitable match.
"Of course." Tom jokingly brushed some dirt off his shoulder. "Do I not look it? Yeah, all my family were magical, but my parents died in the war. The Dark Lord's first rise. Now it's just me."
"Oh," Helena gulped down a little too much bellini, swiping some away from her lips. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be!" Tom clinked glasses with her. "It's easier this way. Parents are the worst."
"I know, right!" She found herself twirling her hair with her finger.
"I prefer it this way. All the vices in the world, and all the time." Tom signalled the bartender. "Another bellini for the lady, another whiskey on the rocks for me."
"Oh, you don't need to do-"
"Excusez-moi." A cultured, sultry voice cut across her. French. Helena watched with wide eyes as the silvery-blonde haired bombshell leaned past her to kiss Tom on the cheek, and left a note in front of him. "My Floo address, in case you ever want to drop in." And then she was gone, leaving Helena shellshocked. Tom laughed with embarrassment and clenched the note in his fist; when he unclenched it, the paper was left in burning ashes.
"Was that a Veela?!"
"Oh, yeah." Tom ran a hand through his messy hair, looking embarrassed. "Sorry, that happens sometimes. Witches can sense my magic reserves, I think. Veela, especially."
"Wow. All the vices in the world, did you say?"
Tom shrugged. "I'm young and single, and I'm not a nun. I'm looking for a relationship though, to be honest. Sex is great and all, but Merlin needed his Morgana, after all."
Helena sipped on her bellini, more than aware she was wildly out of her depth. This man fucked Veela women, even though he was still a Hogwarts student - what on earth would he want with a poor schoolgirl like her? She couldn't get the interaction out of her mind, even though Tom was still talking.
"Are you really powerful then?" She blurted out, interrupting him.
Tom shot her an amused look as she blushed and took a deep gulp of her bellini to cover it up. "Yeah, I'm up there. Power's relative, of course, and it doesn't matter as much as knowledge, but I do pretty well on the circuit."
"The circuit?"
Tom gave her an odd look. "The dueling circuit. Fuck, it's hot in here." He undid one of his shirt buttons.
"Fuck off. Really? You duel on the circuit?"
"Such a potty mouth for a young lady." He teased.
She flushed. "Sorry."
"Don't be. I like it." His hand covered hers, for a second. Helena thought she was going to die.
"After dinner, I'll take you to the circuit."
Her smile was broad. "Oh, okay. Wait, did you say dinner? Because-?"
"Sir, your table is ready." The maitre'd interrupted them.
Tom tugged her up from the stool, then Helena shivered as his hand met the small of her back. "You wouldn't leave me to dine alone, would you?" He pouted.
Before she could resist, he was leading her to their table and sitting her down. Helena didn't look around, aware she was wildly underdressed. Was everyone staring at her - all the beautiful rich people, wondering why she was there? She dipped her head down lower.
Tom grabbed her hand, rubbing his thumb on her skin. His hand was warm. She looked up to see his encouraging smile. "You're more beautiful than any woman here, don't forget it."
To Helena, dinner went by in a second. Tom never let go of her hand, and she didn't want him to. He did most of the talking, and she just watched him. Merlin, he was beautiful. His jawline, cheekbones, lips, the warmth of his voice, his magic around her. When he paid the bill and rose from his seat, she had to shake herself, lost in a daze.
"Have you been listening to a word I said?" Tom laughed. "Sorry, I know I'm a talker."
"No, no. I mean, yes." Helena stammered. "I like listening to you talk. You're so interesting."
He led outside. She shivered, feeling goosebumps on her skin, all too aware of his hand on her back, her side against his. He was so warm.
"You're cold." Tom frowned, removing his jacket and draping over her shoulder.
"No, I...thank you." They stepped into an alley. "Where are we going?"
"The dueling circuit." Tom smirked, and abruptly embraced her. Helena found herself enveloped, head against his chest, wrapped up within him. Then, with a pop, she was somewhere else: in a big arena, tiered seating from high to low, and at the bottom, a super enlarged glass box. Streaks of red and green smacked against the glass as two duelists fought.
"Where are we?" Helena said, dazed.
"Berlin. I told you I'd show you the circuit, right? Don't worry, I'll take you home afterward."
He pulled her to some seats, right at the front, palming some galleons to an attendant.
Helena watched in awe as the two duelists matched off. A statue of fire, a transfigured stone archer, flowers that bloomed into huge clouds of smoke and spores. When the smoke settled, one duelist stood alone, and the crowd erupted into cheers and screams, sending shivers down Helena's spine.
"Pretty amazing, right?" Tom asked her, his breath hot on her ear, arm around her shoulder.
She grinned at him, tapping her feet excitedly. "It's brilliant."
Her eyes met his, and she found herself lost in their sparkling green. His lips parted, eyes steeled, face becoming closer. Was he going to kiss her? Her breath sped up. His fingers coursed through her hair, took hold of her ponytail, and tugged her head back.
"Ah!" She gasped, totally vulnerable, totally lost in him.
His lips descended on hers, all-encompassing. She had nowhere to go, but why would she want to go anywhere? His other hand was on her bare midriff, her shirt having risen up, tracing his fingers on her skin, each finger like a burning hot Incendio. She pushed back with passion, tongue dueling his, just a touch of fight until she submitted to his hunger. It was lightning.
And then he pulled back, smiled at her, kissed her on the forehead, and pulled her onto his chest, so she was listening to his heartbeat, and with each beat, it felt like her world changed to a new dimension. There was a new duel, but Helena was still trying to catch her breath, and why should she bother watching it, when it could not possibly compare to the thrill of his fingers running up the nape of her neck, the warmth of his skin, the beat of his heart, a thousand times slower than hers.
"Wanna see something cool?"
"Huh?" She said, disoriented.
He repeated his question and as she rose, he pointed out something high in the arena. Helena blinked, confused. They were dueling records, hovering in the air in flaming words. Most victories - Johann Sorensen. Longest duel - Klara Wagner. Fastest victory - Tom Riddle.
"Wow." Helena said dumbly. She thought the only word she ever thought when it came to him was Wow. "Are you going to duel today?"
"No, honey. Today's about you." Somebody brought them butterbeers and popcorn, Helena hadn't even seen Tom pay for it. She giggled as he pulled up the armrest and lifted her into his lap. He was so tactile and demanding, lips kissing down her neck. Did anyone ever deny him? Could she deny him?
As she squirmed in his lap, she realized she was wet - her panties felt sodden, and he was hard underneath her. She whimpered as she felt herself rub against his hardness. He felt huge.
"Ssh, settle down, sweetheart." Tom teased her.
"You're so bad." She whispered back to him. She felt like they were in their own little bubble, everyone else focused on the duel. He turned her around like a playdoll so she was facing the duel once more, sipping on her butterbeer as she tried to calm down. It wasn't easy, not with his hand on her thigh, on the hem of her ridden-up skirt, fingers on her thigh.
Helena found herself invested in the duel as a German witch outfought a Spanish wizard; the wizard was relying on pure power with curses and stunners, while the witch charmed and Transfigured her defense and offense.
"She's so good!" She bounced excitedly.
"She is, but the Spaniard will win." Tom predicted.
"What? Why? She's landed more blows, she's in control."
"He's tricking her - he's only used like three spells. If he's come over here, he's probably fought through the Spanish competition. He wouldn't have done that with three spells."
"But-" Just then, the witch stepped forward, starting a complex Transfiguration, but the Spaniard dropped a Disillusionment spell to reveal a thick rose bush, the roses climbing and, Helena realized, shrieking. He banished the bush toward the witch and the roses entwined her. She panicked, casting Incendios to burn it, but the roses blackened but didn't dissipate. The roses took her wand, and the duel was over.
"Fuck." Helena sat back against his back with a huff. "Don't you say it."
His arms tightened around her waist. "Told you so."
She slapped his arm. "How do you know so much? You're just a student."
Tom shrugged. "Just lived a lot of life."
"With a lot of girls? Women?" Helena asked shyly, fidgeting.
"I'm not going to lie." He kissed her cheek. "But like I said, I'm looking for more than just a bit of fun."
She leaned back onto his neck so she could see his face, to consider his truthfulness. He smiled at her and took a strand of her hair from his mouth. "Your hair gets everywhere. I love it though."
"Yeah, Sofia hates it."
"Who's Sofia?"
"My uh, guardian. She and Henri raised me." She saw the confusion on his face. "I mean, don't worry, I'm a pureblood, but I didn't grow up with them." Her face crumpled. "My mother didn't want me. But now she does." She sniffed, thinking about her meeting with her mother for the first time since she'd met Tom. Her eyes glistened.
Helena heard a pop and then they were gone. Underneath a starry sky - she hadn't realized how much time had passed. For a second, she was cold, and then she was in Tom's arms, underneath a cosy blanket, lying on another blanket. Around them, on a grassy field, there were other parties and couples, with their own blankets. Some of them were hazy, just colors, privacy spells hiding them from view.
"Where are we?" Helena looked around in awe. They were surrounded by white-capped mountains, amongst rolling hills. The air felt so sharp, so fresh.
"The broom races. In Wengen, Switzerland. It's beautiful, no?"
"It is."
"Sorry. If you wanted to talk, I thought this would be better than the dueling arena." He repositioned her so she was lying onto of him, hand squeezing her ass over her skirt, their legs entwined. Helena didn't even think of protesting - she wondered if anyone ever had.
"I don't want to talk." She said shyly, rolling over so she sat on top of him.
"You want more kisses, huh?"
She dived down and attacked his lips passionately, moaning as his tongue dueled hers, explored her mouth. He tasted...powerful. They rolled around in the grass and she whimpered under his touch, his kisses, as he attacked her neck, leaving hickeys, feeling his member against her.
Eventually, she ended up on her back, on his chest, squirming under the blanket as his fingers dipped under her skirt's waistband.
"I'm scared." She admitted.
"Don't-" Tom was cut off as the broom races began, twelve figures in the moonlight shooting past, a whoosh cutting through the grass as their sheer speed causing a burst of wind. Bright pink circles lit the sky, dimming as the racers cut through the checkpoint.
"Wow." Helena gasped, partly at the broom-races she'd always wanted to see, partly at Tom's fingers tracing the curvature of her wet pussy over her panties.
"I'll take care of you." His hot breath in her ear made her pussy cream all the more. One hand slipped into her panties, the other sat under her breasts. She clutched that hand with both of hers, feeling like a Muggle holding onto the safety bar on a rollercoaster.
"Okay." She kept her eyes on the stars and the race above, face red, toes curling as he toyed with her clit. For the whole race, he played with her, teasing her, rolling her clit with his thumb and inserting one digit, and then two, into her soaking pussy. She could hear the squishing and squelch of her wetness, even over the roar of the others on the field, over the whoosh of the racers, over Tom's soft murmurs in her ear. Finally, she clenched her thighs shut and whimpered his name as she came, ecstasy and humiliation flushing her skin red as she felt herself squirt over his hand.
"It's okay. You're okay." Tom's voice comforted her. She couldn't look him in the face, but he withdrew dewy fingers and brought them to her lips.
"Tom, I-" Did he really want her to do this?!
"Don't disobey." He said commandingly.
His fingers slipped between her lips and she sucked obediently, cleaning them, tasting herself.
And then he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the cheek. "Good girl."
It was silly, but those words felt like magic, and she couldn't help but smile, even as embarrassed as she was. They watched the rest of the race under the blanket, Helena wondering how she'd got here, and when the dream was going to end.
A Bulgarian won the race, performing loops in the sky as the fireworks blasted his name. Lit by the fireworks and the moonlight, he looked heroic, pumping his fist.
"Is this where you tell me you do broom races as well?" Helena teased.
"Well, actually-"
"Shut up."
"No, I'm kidding. I've never done a broom race. I play Quidditch, though."
"Really? What position?"
"Seeker."
"Of course it is." Helena rolled her eyes. Of course the rich handsome sexy guy that spent the night with Veelas also played seeker - because she needed even more competition.
"What?"
"Nothing." She huffed, but she was smiling. "Is this what you do? Wow girls with dueling arenas and broom races, so you can play with them under the blankets?"
"No." His arms tightened around her. "I've never brought anyone here. Or to the dueling arena for that matter."
Helena screwed her eyes shut, suddenly feeling a little teary. Maybe she was being naive, but it really sounded like he was telling the truth. She wanted him to be telling the truth. She wanted to be special.
An explosion of laughter and jeers distracted them, and they both peered at another group. They were a rowdy bunch of teens, drinking beers and smoking around a fireplace. One of the witches was stripped to her bra and was shaking her chest as she danced to the music.
"Trashy." Helena sniffed.
"Muggleborns, huh?" Tom guessed.
"Some of them go to my school. The girl is Muggleborn but the others are Pure and Half. You're right, a Pureblood witch should never share herself with anyone other than her man." They watched as the Muggleborn kept dancing, pouring some Butterbeer down her chest provocatively. Helena took a deep breath, pinching herself to get the bravery. "You're...you're not attracted to her cleavage?"
Tom snorted. "No. I favor the old ways, even if I'm not as stuffy as the traditionalist purebloods."
Helena giggled. "A woman's place, huh?"
Tom kissed her neck. "And a man's responsibility. Is that so wrong?"
She tilted her neck to allow him greater access. "No." She breathed out. It was so right.
They snogged, Helena writhing under his wandering hands, until a voice called out. "Well, well, if it isn't Hardup Helena? How did you get here?" Helena's eyes flashed open to see some of her schoolmates laughing at her. Jakob Ankov and Radmila Petrovic, two purebloods that were dating each other, along with their entourage.
"I brought her. And you're interrupting." Tom held her down as Helena tried to get up.
"Who the fuck are you?"
"I'm out of your league. Now fuck off." Still lying down, he muttered something inaudible and they were blown back like they'd been shot. He murmured a few more spells and a hazy shield shot up, blocking their view of the fields but leaving their view of the stars and the races.
Helena sat up, frowning at him. "I could have dealt with them."
"Yes." Tom said evenly. "But I did it instead. A man's responsibility, remember?"
That pureblood mantra ran through her head. A woman's place to support and hold, to pleasure and treasure. A man's responsibility to provide shelter and gold, and in strife, to lead and to bleed.
She snuggled back into him. "You're right. I'm sorry." She turned and pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw. "Is this...is this where I return the favor?"
Helena purred as he stroked her hair. "You shouldn't do anything you're uncomfortable with. I'm pushing your boundaries because it's good for you, but we shouldn't go too fast. I'm not going anywhere."
She reached down, to feel his hardness through his black trousers. "I want to, but I'm scared." She admitted. "I don't want to...I mean, I've never, and I bet you've had so many women. Maybe next time, so I can learn how? I'm not a prude, I swear."
Tom laughed, and she swatted at him. "Don't laugh at me!"
"I'm not." He kissed her in apology. "You're sweet, that's all."
Helena huffed. She didn't want to be sweet. She wanted to rock his world like he'd rocked hers. But, a voice in the back of her head told her, she had to keep her Morgana's maidenhood. She didn't know what she was going to do about her mother's offer, but she knew for sure that it might be retracted if she was no longer virginal.
"Come on. The good races are over. Let's take you home." Tom slipped out from under her.
Panic shot through her. Would she see him again? Would he just go to that Veela's house, or to some girl that would actually put out? Now she knew why some of the girls at school said blowjobs were the only way to keep your virginity.
"Wait," She grabbed his wrist. "Maybe, maybe you could take me to your place and I could, you know, you could teach me how to, y'know?" She nodded at his bulging groin.
Tom laughed delightedly, hugging her tight. "Maybe I could take you back to my hotel, but only," He tugged at her earlobe with his teeth. "If you tell me what you mean when you say 'you know'."
"Tom!" She stamped her foot and then stamped on his foot.
"Come on, sweetheart." Tom swayed her from side to side, dancing to an invisible tune. "I was so good to you," He said in a sing-song voice. "And we don't want the night to end just yet, right? Just tell me what you want me to teach you."
Helena crossed her arms and scowled, but her armor was broken when he started pressing kisses down her neck. "Alright, fine!" She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "I want you…"
"Yes?"
"I want you to teach me," Helena clenched her fists, trying to get the words out.
"Uh-huh."
"Iwantyoutoteachmehowtosuckyourthing."
"What was that?"
"You heard me. I'm not saying it again." Helena glared.
"Well, okay." Tom held her hand and in a blink, they were in his hotel room. Helena looked around in amazement. It wasn't a room, it was a suite. Chandeliers and chaise-lounges, a bottle of champagne in the ice-bucket. A red and gold bed, large and luxurious - it just screamed sex. She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling a little overwhelmed.
"Hey, hey." Tom kissed her. "Anytime you're not comfortable, we'll stop. Anytime you want, I'll Apparate you back home. Okay?"
She nodded, forehead against his. "Okay. I want to, I swear I do. I'm just...not used to this."
He fetched her a glass of champagne and watched in amusement as she downed it. And then she stole his glass and downed that too.
"Will you do me a favor?" She asked him, melting against him.
"Anything." He waved his hand and the lights dimmed, candles lighting. Of course he did wandless magic.
She played with the hem of her skirt, unable to meet his eyes.
"Will you take control? I like it when you...like, make me? Just don't take my, y'know."
He swept her up. "You're safe with me, Helena. Oh, sweetness, I'm going to make you mine."
And then he was pulling her hair back, attacking her lips, nibbling on them, biting them, swelling them, tongue roughing exploring her mouth, one hand groping her breast. He divested her of her blouse and her skirt, and she thanked Morgana that she'd worn her nice underwear that day. Some powder blue lingerie, a little sheer, with little dangling ribbons from the bra, and atop her panties. The hem of her panties had a little faux-necklace of fake pearls around them. They were cheap, but they looked expensive. For a moment, she wanted to put her hands over her private areas, embarrassed, especially when she realized her panties were so wet they were practically transparent, but Tom only growled, hands roaming across her bare skin.
He tossed her onto the bed, making her squeal. And then he undressed for her, slowly, so she could watch.
"You're so beautiful." She blurted out as she saw his muscled chest. He had a ton of scars, of course he did. She wanted to explore him.
"That's my line, I think." Tom teased.
And then his trousers, and Helena's eyes went wide as she saw the huge bulge in his boxers, like he was hiding a snake in there.
"A little warning." Tom started, running a hand through his hair. "Don't be scared. I'm bigger than anyone I've ever met. I'm going to be gentle with you, so just don't freak out, okay?"
Helena bit her lip, unable to say anything. He dropped his boxers and she couldn't help but gasp. His cock was enormous, thick and long. The head of it was dripping precum, smeared white - she could feel the magic from it.
"What the fuck?" She murmured, scooting back a little on the bed, subconsciously licking her lips. "Do your lovers even survive that thing?
Tom snorted as he climbed on the bed. "Easy, girl. Morgana shapes witches to take their wizards." He knee-crawled between her legs. "Put your hands on it, get used to it."
She did just that, hands shaking a little, gasping a little at the sheer heat emanating from him. "Use the pre-cum as lube, or give it a little spit." He ordered.
Helena spat on her hands and put her hands into his copious precum, amazed at the density and volume of it. This was unlike anything she'd imagined. Even the smell of it, of him, was clouding her brain. What would sex be like with him? If that ever happened, she would just die, she just knew it.
"Stroke it, baby. Nice firm strokes. Find the rhythm." He murmured. He collapsed onto her, kissing her neck as she stroked, her back against the pillows. Tom blocked her view of her work, which made it easier, so she could just close her eyes and feel him, enjoying his soft moans and the fap-fap-fap of her hands, up and down. It felt right, to pleasure him. "To pleasure and treasure." She murmured the pureblood mantra again. Morgana's mantra.
Helena was generating more pre-cum, her hands coated, and she was all too conscious that as Tom necked her, she was stroking him off onto her panties, little globules and ropes of precum dripping onto her. When Tom suddenly withdrew, she reflexively swallowed at the sight.
His cock was glistening with cum, the head red and engorged, white cream dabbing and dribbling - just like her hands, coated in the white jizz. Tom took the thought out of her head, pushing her hand toward her lips.
"Taste me." He said authoritatively.
Helena licked her fingers cleaned, moaning at the taste. Pure power. Of course he tasted of powerful magic. She could taste him all day.
Once she was done, Tom pulled her up and took her place, leaning back against the pillows, using his hand in her hair to dominantly pull her down to his cock. "Now use your tongue. Experiment. You can't do anything wrong, gorgeous."
She started with nervous laps with her tongue, darting out to consume the little bits of tasty cream. She tried to keep her eyes open. The girls she'd overheard in her dorm had said that eye contract was important, so she tried to keep her eyes locked on Tom as she lapped and licked. He kept her hand in her hair, stroking to comfort, pulling at it when he wanted more assertiveness. She slurped at his cock, moaning at the taste, strands of cum and saliva tying her to him.
"Mmmf!" She said, muffled, as she took his mushroom head into her mouth, amazed at the girth, tongue roaming it as she used both hands to stroke the huge expanse of him that she couldn't descend down. Fuck, she thought. It was so dirty, so sloppy, so naughty - she felt like a slut. She felt amazing. She was giving Tom a blowjob. Not a Veela, or a society girl, or a Muggleborn slut he was using just for the pleasure. Her. He'd chosen her.
"I'm sucking your cock." Helena pulled off to say, wearing a wide smile as he moved her head roughly around the head of his cock, to leave a glistening trail across her features.
"Yeah, you are." Tom growled, voice so deep it made her shiver. "You're my blowjob queen."
Blowjob queen! The words resounded in her head as he forced her down again.
"Use your hands on my balls, baby."
Helena did that, massaging them, feeling their heat and heaviness - all that cum inside, waiting for her to suck it out. She had so much to learn. She would learn it all. She wouldn't let Tom get away. He was too special for that.
"Now your tongue." She sucked one of his testicles into his mouth, lapping, nose pressed against his flesh, tasting his sweat and his masculinity, and then swapped to the other, gurgling. Tom liked his blowjobs noisy and sloppy, she realized. When he allowed her to descend back on his cock, Helena slurped and gobbled, enjoying his moans as they loudened.
"I'm going to cum, honey. Make sure you drink it."
Helena didn't need to be told that, increasing her pace as she stroked, wishing she could deepthroat his cock. Instead, she kept his cock just at the entrance to her throat, gulping and gagging to make it tight, trying to milk him.
"Here it comes!"
His cock throbbed and spurted, a rope of hot cum shooting down her throat. Helena slurped, Tom's hand tight on her head as he shot again and again. Helena felt her stomach swelling, the cum never-ending, mouthfuls and mouthfuls of tasty cum. Her throat was bathed in the warm nectar, and it felt like she was the one being rewarded. Her throat filled up, and she wasn't able to swallow quickly enough, white cream running down the edges of her mouth. Finally, the hose of Tom-goo ended and Helena withdrew.
"Good girl. Now clean me up."
Helena trembled, feeling herself cream a little. She lapped and slurped his cock clean dutifully, then went hunting for the not insubstantial drips of cum in his trimmed pubic hair and on her hands. When she was done, she looked down at herself and squealed. Her belly was enormous, swollen with semen. She'd half-realized, but she'd been in such a cum-daze, she'd ignored it.
"It looks like I'm pregnant!" She exclaimed.
"Don't panic." Tom assured her, pulling her carefully back onto his chest. "Your body will process it by morning and I'll Apparate you back home."
"What are you?"
"I'm just a powerful wizard." Tom stroked her face.
"Was...was that okay? I can do better, I'll-"
"Sweetheart, it was incredible. You're a natural." Tom craned over to kiss her.
"You must have had it done so much better by all those other girls. Like what does a Veela feel like, I can't even compare, right?"
"Helena." His short sharp voice tugged her back from her hysteria. "I don't want any other girl, or a Veela. I want you. I want someone cool, someone who can stand up to their parents. Someone who will be a good wife for my house and one day a mother for my children. A woman I can love, who will love me. To be there at the end of the day with a meal and a kiss, to pleasure me in bed, to treasure me when times are hard. I believe in family values. I want a woman to make a family. I've never had a family before."
Helena melted, face crumpling as she sobbed. The tears stung her eyes as they fell, and she clutched him like she was drowning and he was a life raft. "That's what I want!" She wailed. "A family!"
He stroked her back as she shook and cried, until her tears dried up. When she spoke again, her voice was scratchy, her throat thick with emotion.
"Can you give me that? I'll do anything." Her hand reached for his cock again, but Tom moved it away.
"I want to." He admitted. "But we shouldn't rush things. We only just met today, after all. I could be one of those pureblood boys that talks his way into girl's panties and makes them promises just to move onto the next one once he's had his fill."
"You're not like that." She insisted, frowning. "I trust you."
"Still, let's not be hasty. I'm not going anywhere. I'll come visit next weekend, at your home. I'll eat that soaking, eager wet pussy of yours on your bed, and then I'll take you for dinner. Okay?"
Tom's voice brooked no argument, and Helena could only stay silent as she processed his words. He was going to eat her out on her childhood bed! Her room was so poor and messy, she couldn't possibly bring him there. Why wouldn't he fuck her, she wondered? She'd let him. Fuck her maidenhood. She'd never meet a better man. She hoped it wasn't because he didn't want to, didn't want to be tied to a poor plain prude.
"I can feel your cogs turning." Tom laughed. "Go to sleep, sweetheart. I'll be here next weekend, promise." He repositioned her so he was spooning her, cock pressed against her ass.
"How can I sleep with that monster threatening me?" Helena giggled. Why was she worrying? Tom wouldn't lie to her.
"Can I cast a Sleeping Spell on you?" He asked, leaning over to see her face. "You've had a long, emotional day, and you need your sleep."
"Okay." She agreed. He waved his hand and she felt the wave of sleepiness hit her, hard. "We need to talk about your wandless-" Her head smacked against the pillow and she was out.
Harry laughed as she let out some cute little snores, tracing his hand down her slender body. That had been a fun evening, playing the pureblood rich cad, the bad boy with a heart of gold. Apolline's suggestion had been a good one — she'd easily predicted that the teenage girl would rebel against Narcissa's overtures.
And run straight into Harry's clutches.
He apparated away.
In the hotel room, he was expecting a king's welcome. Instead, his two blondes snored cutely on their king bed. Cissy sleepily swatted away a strand of Apolline's hair from her mouth. Apolline drooling a little on Cissy's shoulder. The two were naked, entwined, sleepy.
Harry felt his heart burst with a sudden rush of affection. His girls. They'd tried to wait up for him.
For a moment, he thought about waking them up. The threesome he'd been anticipating, the dirty Veela MILF's tongue on his balls while he plowed his Malfoy mistress. Cissy slurping his seed straight from the French honeypot. Tying his hands in their hair to bring their heads together in order to paint both faces with rope after rope of cum, a mark of his conquer.
But while it was fun to play the cad, it wasn't his heart. There was always tomorrow. There was always forever.
Instead he just smiled fondly at them both. They needed their sleep. He pulled the sheet to cover them.
Apolline let out a small contented moue. Cissy cuddled closer.
He kissed their foreheads.
His sleeping beauties.
Harry stepped into their hotel's bathroom, shaking his head at the sight of himself. A dirty weekend break in Germany and he didn't even get laid.
He was basically an angel.
Soon, their bed would be fuller still. Cissy's daughter. Apolline's too.
His cock hardened at the thought of the four of them in his bed. A slow grin spread across his face as he watched himself in the mirror.
Perhaps he wasn't such an angel after all. Or maybe he was just a big believer in family values.