Harry spluttered, hot coffee spilling over himself. He sat up ram-rod straight, staring into Amelia's knowing eyes.
"What-how?"
"How what?" She smirked.
"You should be dead. I watched you die. I watched you walk into the Veil."
"Did you cry? A real tragedy like King Lear."
"Not funny, Amelia." The giddiness she had was unlike her, but of course she was different; she'd escaped certain death.
"I thought I was walking into death's embrace. But I learned what decades of Unspeakables failed too. The Veil is not death. It's an opening into a thousand realms, a rip in space and time and every other dimension we don't understand."
"But…nobody ever comes back."
She shivered. "I saw the path. I don't think I could ever describe it properly, but…like the stars were torn from the sky and swam in a lake, a lake I could walk over. But the stars were windows. It's like the veil shows every other time and place where someone has ripped open a void? Every other time a wizard has messed with forces we don't understand."
"I don't—"
"A wizard before Hogwarts, before civilization, maybe. I swear I saw Merlin himself. I saw a tribe…the Mayans, maybe? I saw a great king, a pharaoh?" Amelia's eyes blurred over. "Every time we create a tear in the fabric, the fabric folds, like a pair of folded jeans. A-and the veil? It's like, it's like—" Amelia struggled.
"Lasagna?" Harry suggested.
"Exactly." They exchanged glances, the absurdity overwhelming, chuckles turning to guffaws. Two people out of time, out of place. "Lasagna." Amelia confirmed. "But you can step from layer to layer, from beef to cheese."
Harry shook his head. "I…but you should have died. Nobody comes back. Nobody reports back. If people went back in time, we'd hear from them. We execute criminals in the Veil, right?"
Amelia nodded, watching the people pass by in the Atrium. "Why did we think oversized robes was a good look back in the eighties?" She fidgeted. "Most of those layers were certain death — stepping out in front of wizards who'd shoot first. Stepping out into inhospitable environments, languages unspoken. I think some of the layers were even," She swallowed. "The death realm, somehow. It's where I was heading, until…"
Harry wiped his lips, still trying to believe what he was seeing. He held a hot coffee, but his hand was cold. "Until?"
"Until someone opened up another path. A rip in time right in front of me." Amelia favored him with a smile.
"I did this." Harry rubbed his forehead, understanding washing over him. He'd fucked with the time-stream, with the ley line, creating a door for Amelia to walk through. "But…this is the past, isn't it?"
"It is." Amelia smoothed down her skirt. "But, through the veil, I haven't time travelled, not like you. I stepped into the Amelia of this time-line. Straight into her — my — chunky boots. Used to love them. Wish I'd never sold them." She grinned at him, but he wasn't amused.
The implications alone. He was glad she wasn't dead, but she wasn't necessary alive either, not when it mattered. She was an Amelia — a young, attractive Amelia — with all the knowledge of the future. He could go back, because a version of him existed in the future. But her?
That was a reality he didn't need to drop on her. "I-I've got people working on it, how to get us back to the future. To the present, I mean. I'm there but here as well. Two Harry's."
Amelia looked at him, startled. "You're over there and over here? And you can…talk to each other?"
He scratched his ear. "We don't have to talk, we're like…one mind. I'm there and here simultaneously." He exhaled. "It's a lot."
She took that in slowly, tugging at her lower lip, the same way Susan did when she was having trouble with something in the DA meetings. "I went through the veil. There's no coming back for me."
"You don't know that. As you can see, I'm here when I shouldn't be." Harry gestured to the Atrium, a vision of wizards and witches in surreal clothing. The magic world wasn't completely impermeable from Muggle influences; long flowing skirts matched with black or white cowboy boots.
Others were influenced by the punk rock scene of London: one girl wore fishnets and a black leather skirt, a studded belt to cinch in a white tanktop. She looked a little like Tonks.
Amelia elbowed him and pointed at one woman. "Blouses with puffy sleeves. Thank Merlin they died out."
Harry snorted. "She looks like the Michelin Man."
"Stop it!" She giggled. "I like some of it. I used to dream of a fur coat around this age."
"That famous Witch Weekly cover? Arthur Weasley had a vintage copy in his shed, well hidden from Molly."
"What's-her-name in a fur coat and nothing else, leaning on the doorway." Amelia nodded wistfully.
"Better than the shoulder-pad dresses." Harry frowned at a passing woman. "And the high-waist denim jeans."
Amelia sniffed. "Oh, that's kind of cute. Look at her. You're just saying that because you want all the eighties' girls to be in miniskirts."
Harry eyed a passing blonde lasciviously. "It was the decade. Leopard print minis, whatever happened to you?"
"I found a few neon ones in my closet." She admitted. She took a deep breath, her hand reaching out to take his. But her grip wasn't flirty, it was deathly tight, her knuckles white. "Harry, I don't want to go back."
"What?"
"Don't you see what this is?" She turned to face him, her eyes wide. "A chance to make up for all my wrongs. A second chance at a career that was good but never great. A chance to fix everything wrong with the Ministry—"
"Amelia, do I really have to explain the dangers of time and paradoxes to you. Like, you know the story of Eloise Mintumble, the Unspeakable? She came back from the past and, like, thirty people disappeared—"
"Oh, hush—"
"Hush, who says hush?"
"We said hush back in the eighties." She pushed his arm. "People go mad when their past self sees their time-travelling self. I don't have a past self. And I'm not returning to the future, remember, so—"
"It's not your mind that you'll break, it's the rest of Britain, it's the future that, newsflash, your niece is living in—"
"It's a future I'll fix!" Amelia growled. "Imagine how great I can make magical Britain. I can make Minister before Fudge comes into power, I know every dirty secret, I know every wheel that needs greasing. I can stop the Dark Lord from returning—"
"Or you'll change things so far that he never dies." Harry snapped. "Don't be ridiculous, Amelia. Think of Susan, you could make it so she never existed, or so she dies, or she never gets to know you, or a thousand different possibilities for—"
"She does exist." Amelia's nails dug into his hand. "She's one of the oldest in your year, remember. She's a baby, right now." She said softly. "And while my parents were murdered before I returned, hers still live. There's still time to give her the childhood she deserved."
Harry scoffed. "She had a childhood, with you. Erasing that makes her into a different Susan."
"A safer, more loved Susan, who didn't have a guardian who spent more time in the Ministry than her home." Amelia tore her hand away. "Why can't you see this? Imagine how great we can make Britain, together."
"We don't belong here, why can't you see that?"
"We can, we can." She urged. "You fought him at his most experience, you can beat him this young. We can fix everything." Her face reddened, her knee bouncing erratically. She pointed across the fountain, where Lily was finishing her lunch. "Don't you want to save your mother? James too? Don't they deserve that?"
"It's not that simple—"
"We can make the Aurors unafraid of the Death Eaters. We can allow them to use the Unforgiveables this early. We can put me in power before Fudge is even a thought in the public's eye."
"Bagnold was strong, she's got years ahead of her. She sent half the Inner Circle to Azkaban—"
Amelia's eyes held a mad glint. "Under me, they'd never even make it to the safety of Azkaban."
"This isn't you, Amelia."
"Isn't it?" Her knee slid over his. "I thought you were a visionary. I thought you were like me, that you'd do anything to make Britain strong."
"What are you doing?"
Her fingers stretched to his chest. "You're in the future. I'm in the past. I have to know if the laws I put in place, the changes I make, if they work. Imagine," Her eyes glimmered, but she wasn't really looking at him, lost in a vision of her own making. "The ultimate politician. Able to see the mistakes and correct them, to see the finished building as I lay the bricks. Fairness, equality, peace." She shook her head, refocused. "I need you."
"Amelia, this is crazy." His chest felt tight. A second chance at life had shown her a new path, but it wasn't a path he could walk down with her. He had a future, a life with his loved ones, a life with fears and dangers but undeniable happiness.
He couldn't let Amelia jeopardize it, no matter how attractive her vision was it. That way, madness lies.
Her hand dropped suddenly to his thigh, knocking over the coffee he held in his hand. The cup rolled, the brown spilled over the floor, unnoticed, because Amelia drew circles on his leg. "I could introduce you as a European noble. Make you Lord Bones." She thrust her chest out, tossed her hair back. "I'm not unattractive, am I? Whatever you want, I could make it happen."
She was the opposite of unattractive — a curvaceous hourglass, blouse straining to contain her bust, pencil skirt cinched tight to contain a full-figured woman, legs shaped by black stockings. Glossy copper hair that made everyone take a second glance.
But her eyes, those green eyes, they had the glint of fanaticism. A woman unable to admit that she'd lost all that she'd built, because magic had conspired to set her down in front of the construction site.
He could understand her, because he wanted it too. To be reckless in a playground of the past, rescue those that they'd lost, fuck over Voldemort in ways he couldn't comprehend.
He blinked, as the coffee pooled against his shoe. "I am a visionary. I do want to create a better future." Harry said softly. "But my vision is to create a better future for those that deserve it — the ones who struggled through the next few decades, that fought, sacrificed, feared and lost. I can't undermine their struggle by taking it away."
"That's stupid—"
"I can't stay here, living in the past…" Harry bowed his head. "Trying to fix coffee that's already been spilled."
Amelia clenched her fist, unable to hide her frustration, her anger. She sighed and hid it, the cold professional veneer returning, the veneer of an Amelia Bones she'd grow up to be. "I'll be here, making a difference. For Lily, for Susan, for you. Don't try and stop me."
Harry didn't, couldn't argue. So they just sat together for a long moment, legs against each other, pressed together but so far apart.
After a long silence, Harry shifted. He had places to be. "I got times to be." He joked.
"…yeah." She said slowly. "How…how is she?"
He hesitated. "N-not good. She's crying a lot."
"T-tell her something." She took a breath, blinking rapidly. "Tell her if…if she wasn't real, she wouldn't be able to cry."
"I don't get it."
"She will."
"Okay. Take care of yourself, Amelia. Don't—" Harry's sentence broke off as he stood up. What words could he give to a woman who wouldn't listen? "This isn't your fight, you fought your whole life. Now it's up to us. You don't have to fight any more."
"Wouldn't you?" She stared down at her lap.
He had no answer. As he walked away, he couldn't think of a reply, because they both knew that he would.
###
"I can't believe it." Helena sighed happily, clutching her pillow to herself as Hermione carefully painted her toenails. She laid back on her bed in her bra and panties, the bedroom that Mother had demanded she have.
She spent most nights sleeping with her mother, but Mother had told her that Harry would like taking her on her own bed. And he did — her Harry enjoyed debasing her while in the soft pastel-pink chamber. It felt rather taboo.
"I can't believe you punched my brother. That's so cool." She continued.
Hermione giggled. "Stop moving — I don't have any practice with this. I get my dorm-mate Parvati to do mine, usually."
"Do you think Harry will like it?" Helena bit her lip, peering down at her newly shaded lavender toenails.
"He will, although he probably won't notice unless he's holding your ankles and folding you up." Hermione said dryly.
"Stop!" Helena broke into giggles. "I can't believe he does that to you too."
"Oh, he loves it." Hermione smiled fondly. "Last time, you know what he did when he had me like that?" She blushed.
"What? Tell me!"
"He, well, finishes on my face—"
"He's such a caveman." Helena said affectionately.
"Right? And he, y'know, covers me, of course. And you know that thing he does where he just sort of…admires what he's done to you."
"He's so smug!" Helena nodded, glowing.
Hermione rolled her eyes, red-faced. "He smirked at me and he says 'look, honey, I put your head into an ankle sandwich and I even gave you some mayo for the filling'".
Helena roared with laughter. "Oh, he's so awful."
"He's such a crass pervert!"
"He's lucky we love him."
"So lucky!"
"What did you do?"
"I mean, after I cleaned him, I was a bit frosty with him before he gave me a cuddle." Hermione winced as she heard herself. "We're pushovers, aren't we?"
"Yes." Helena smirked. "But we're the luckiest girls, even if he is a complete cad."
Hermione blew on her new friend's toenails, drying them. "We are." She agreed. "But he was even more of a cad to you. I can't believe he pretended he was Tom Riddle, of all the names."
"Oh, no, it was perfect." Helena swooned, squeezing her pillow. "He pretended to be a wealthy pureblood to sweep me off my feet, but he is all he said he was. And so much more." Her lips parted, hand on her heart. "He gave me a family, my mother, this home, his heart."
Hermione cleared her throat. "Speaking of your mother, is it true that, uh, he…like, well, I mean, you and your mother—"
Helena covered her face with her hands, red-faced. "Oh, no! How does everyone know?"
"I'm sorry, you don't have to—"
"It's true." Helena admitted, peeking through her fingers. "Harry…loves it. My first time, Mother was there, holding me open, helping me through it."
Hermione gaped.
"Don't judge me, please." Helena begged.
"I'm not, I just can't…Harry—"
"You'd do anything for him too, though, right?"
"Of course. I just," Hermione shivered, thinking of the young Malfoy daughter in flagrante with her stacked mother. It was a powerful image. No wonder Harry liked it. "I can't imagine."
"She teaches me how to please him. Mother knows all his dirty fantasies."
"Really?" Hermione said eagerly.
"Oh, yeah. W-when we're lonely, we…touch and help each other, and Mother tells me everything she's learned."
"Merlin." Hermione swallowed, feeling hot. "I keep thinking when Harry's going to make me…do things, with another girl."
Helena bit her lip. "Maybe it'll be with me."
"I…" Hermione squirmed. "There'd be worse options."
Helena's face peeked from between her hands. "I think he'd like us both together, like that."
"I certainly would." Harry rumbled from the doorway.
"Ah!" Hermione shot to her feet. Helena squealed.
"Harry!" They chorused.
"Sorry to interrupt, girls." Harry leered at the girls in their skimpy underwear. Helena was in soft blue boyshorts and a polka dot bra, while Hermione wore a very see-through chiffon black bra and thong.
"I didn't buy that for you, did I?" He mused.
Hermione hugged herself demurely. "I borrowed it from Helena."
"Mother bought it for me."
"I'm glad to see you two sharing already." He said teasingly. "I came to see you, Mione. I need you right now."
Hermione looked at him with an open-mouth. "H-here?" She glanced at Helena. "I mean, of course, if you really need me—"
Harry laughed. "Not like that, sweetheart. I need to talk."
"Oh." Hermione flushed.
"Come." He pushed them forward and within seconds, he was between the two stiff girls on Helena's bed, his hands roaming and pawing.
"Harry!" Helena giggled, batting him away from his fingers trying to quest under her waistline.
"Harry!" Hermione gasped as he cupped her ass and then spanked it hard, making her cheeks clap together. "I-I thought you wanted to talk."
"I do. I need some advice. Two things. First, I have another letter from my mysterious blackmailer. Another riddle. Solve it for a kiss? The note said 'Where is the only place where today comes before yesterday?'"
"Someone's blackmailing you?" Helena worried.
"It's okay, nothing major." Harry assured her. "They saw me and Cissy getting naughty and that's releasing in the press soon anyway."
"But if they saw you a long time ago, already amorous, well before Lucius' death was announced," Helena wondered.
Harry winced. "Yeah, doesn't look great. But that's why Miss Smarty-panties is going to help me jump through their hoops until they reveal themselves."
"Where is the only place where today comes before yesterday?" Hermione repeated. "Hmm, maybe it's a trick, a riddle within a—ooh, Harry! It'd be easier to figure out without two fingers inside of me!"
Harry pulled his fingers out with a wet pop and held them up to Helena, who was well used to his taste-testing manipulations from his threesomes with her and her mother. She licked them dutifully, even as Hermione watched on aghast.
"Mmm," Helena said, blushing. "The answer is the dictionary, by the way. That's a child's riddle."
At the shocked look on his Mione's face, Harry guffawed, holding his stomach.
"S-shut up!" She jabbed him. "I would have gotten it, I just need a second. And you were distracting me!"
"Sure you would've." Helena smirked before Harry gave her a long victor's kiss, leaving her panting and breathless.
Hermione scowled, crossing her arms, accidentally squeezing her breasts higher. "You try solving riddles while getting harassed in such a manner."
"It's okay, my love." Harry assured her. "You're still my number one smart girl, okay?" A kiss took her frown away.
"I don't know," Helena said leadingly. "I am top of my class in four different subjects."
Hermione sniffed. "Durmstrang is hardly comparable to a Hogwarts education—"
"Yeah, we only have a broader range of subjects, actually learn magic that your Ministry bans, duel weekly—"
"Ok, easy, ladies." Harry snorted, bringing them closer to him with a firm ass-grasp so they nestled at his side. "You're both very clever and beautiful and loved."
"Agreed." Helena gave her bushy-haired competitor a cheeky grin. "Some more than others."
"Harry came here for my advice, remember? I was just about to give him the answer—"
"Harry is short on time, so maybe you should be sharper in wit."
Hermione harrumphed. "Harry always has plenty of time for me, maybe he uses you for quickies."
"Because you take plenty of time to get him off," Helena challenged, her hand dipping into Harry's trousers to find his hard cock. "I blow his mind, just like Mother."
Hermione stilled when she saw Helena fish out his cock and began pumping him, a deer in headlights. She gave an anxious look to Harry, who stroked her hair comfortingly.
"It's okay, Mione. You never need to do anything you're not comfortable with." He promised.
"N-not yet, okay? I'm still getting used to—"
They were interrupted by a sloppy choked gag from Helena as she enveloped his girthy shaft. The platinum blonde beauty wettened his cock and then rose off it, smiling with watery eyes. "Here's another riddle. Where is the only place where Harry's pleasure doesn't come first? Answer, Hermione's head!"
Hermione snarled. "How presumptuous of the pureblood bimbo. We'll see if you're still around in five years, because I've seen them all come and go—"
Helena smirked, her bait working. "Come and go is what Harry calls your bedroom, right?"
"My bedroom is where Harry fucks me and stays the night — your bedroom is where he goes if it's dark and he can't find your mother's."
Helena glared at that, a nerve touched. Hermione tossed her hair back and grabbed hold of Harry's cock, both hands stroking him fast. His shaft was so big that both girls could stroke simultaneously, rhythmic and synchronised, even as they glared at each other.
"You'll just make it worse for him. Harry thinks I'm just as good as blowjobs as Mother." Helena jabbed.
"Probably because the only time he can keep your mouth shut is when his dick is in it." Hermione quipped, scowling.
"Uh, girls," Harry said, amused and more than a little turned on by his brilliant fiery girls. "I did actually come here for advice."
Hermione sniffed imperiously. "I can listen and pleasure you at the same time, my love."
"We'll relieve any problem," Helena promised, her tongue darting out to rim his cockhead. "No matter how big."
Harry lay back and enjoyed the show, absently Engorging the pillow he lay on so it would prop him up. He wanted to see everything. And it was a sight to see — two beauties, two English roses, stroking his cock, delicate tongues working on each side of his cock. Their silky hair streamed together, brown and blonde, two waterfalls pooling down to his groin.
Only they acted like two curtains, parting occasionally to give him glimpses of their naughtiness. Hermione's tongue lapping eagerly at his tip, drinking up the precum that oozed from his head. Helena tilting his cock toward her so she could dribble saliva down to their hands.
Hermione's whimper of frustration. Helena's gurgle of triumph. Harry could only groan as the two girls battled away, swirling tongues on his cock, four hands jerking him to rock-hard stiffness, his cock so hot it felt it was burning.
Helena snapped her bra off smoothly. Hermione just pulled hers down, raising an eyebrow at the Malfoy girl. Helena slithered her tongue down his veiny cock and slobbered noisily on his heavy ball, just like her mother had taught her, but when she returned, it was to find Hermione triumphantly bobbing on his cock, pushing herself down it.
An arched eyebrow from the Gryffindor girl, but the impression of prim arrogant victory was lessened by the bulge in her mouth and the tears in her eyes.
"Good girls." Harry murmured, arching his hips up.
Hermione choked, taking in more than she intended, more than she was capable of. She'd been blowing Harry a lot, partly obeying his commands and partly to keep his monster away from her pounded, protesting pussy. But deepthroating him for any length of time was a challenge, and soon she was coughing, gasping for breath.
She blinked and Helena was slurping up the strand of cum-saliva between his dick and her lips, her eyes closed in pleasure.
Only the beautiful blonde kept coming, until their lips were suddenly touching, an accidental kiss that broke apart suddenly, leaving Hermione stunned and Helena blushing.
Harry's balls boiled, tightening. "I'm almost there, girls." They'd barely started, but the sight alone had him on a trigger.
Helena took advantage of her friend's shell-shocked state, sinking all the way to Harry's base, because Mother always made her practice on him or the cucumber in the fridge. A kiss on his groin to leave her lipstick there, like a flag on a mountain summit.
"Gurk-gurk-gurk—" Helena throated him, hands kneading his balls, feeling the heavy load inside. But in her head, she was sighing, because Hermione was still sitting there uselessly, drawing shaky breaths. Didn't the clever girl understand that Harry wanted both of them? She grabbed Hermione's hands and brought them to her own head.
Almost unthinkingly, Hermione's fingers tangled into her soft tresses and began, as she'd hoped, forcing her up and down his cock. Harry groaned at the sight, aroused like Helena intended.
Hermione was more forceful though, far more than expected from the prim and proper girl, and soon Helena's tears were dripping more than Harry's precum, choking and gurgling, trying to breathe though her nose, but her nose was full of Harry's thick seed.
When Hermione finally gave her respite, pulling her off, that was Helena's chance. She rubbed at her throat and leaned forward to whisper into her friend's ear. "Big finish."
Understanding dawned in Hermione's eyes and they turned as one to smile at Harry. Together, they jerked him closer, slick wet jerks. Their jiggled their tits and pushed them around his cock. Their tongues battled around his cock, fighting for every drop of cum, or lapping the rim of his mushroom-head while the other slurped.
"Please, Harry, give it to me." Helena begged. "I deserve a big creamy load all over my face."
Hermione bit her lip. "Aren't I your oldest friend? Please, Harry, make me as white as a Patronus." She smiled at him knowingly. "I know you want to."
"Fuck!" Harry gasped as he went over the point of no return. The girls cooed happily as he came, unloading a huge load of cum. Thick ropes of hot white seed coated both their faces as they pressed together, cheek to cheek like they were posing for a photo.
"Thank you, my love." Hermione glowed as her forehead was glazed, globs drizzling down to pool against the ropes already on her nose, cheek and lips.
Helena just beamed happily as she was hosed down, gently working every last bit of cum from his cock, milking him empty.
Harry mumbled nonsensically, looking down at his joyful girls. They were a mess, almost unrecognizable under one of his biggest loads ever, eyelashes unable to bat through the thick cream, makeup smeared.
They both knew what he wanted. Fingers to wipe drips into lips. Harry never wanted any of his seed wasted, but as they threatened to drip from their chins, they had to work together. Helena slurped up a hanging rope from Hermione's chin, but when their faces pressed together, it created accidental cum-strings between them.
"I suppose this was inevitable." Hermione sighed, giving Harry a chiding look.
"Harry always gets what he wants." Helena agreed.
Then they leaned forward and kissed each other, a cum-coated kiss.
"That's so fucking hot." Harry muttered to himself as the girls moaned into each other's mouths, fingers smearing cum onto their lips, a never-ending reward for their voyeuristic lesbian kiss. Their panting made their chests bounce, their pink hard nipples sliding against each other.
They both felt Harry's cock judder between them. "He likes it." Helena said into Hermione's eyes, licking some jizz from her nose.
Hermione cleaned her friend's cheek. "He's always encouraged me to get along with others."
They kissed and sucked and hoovered, cleaning up each other and then Harry's cock.
"Oh," Hermione shivered as Helena cleaned the cum on her collarbone, and then another drop on her nipple. Privately, she thought Helena was going a little far, but she couldn't deny Harry's excited gaze. "You wanted some advice, Harry?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah." Harry said, distractedly watching Helena suckle on Hermione's breast.
He told them about Amelia, about how she was determined to change the past, no matter the consequences.
Hermione hummed, glancing over her shoulder as Helena turned her around on the bed, so her tight bottom was in Harry's face. Helena smirked — her friend was compliant, distracted by Harry's problems.
"So Amelia's going to change everything before we can even figure out how to stop your actions from having a ruinous effect here." Hermione surmised. "This is really dangerous — she could unalive people, bring others back, rewrite history itself."
"It might already be happening." Harry confirmed.
Helena was being mischievous — she had her face next to Hermione's ass, her fingers in the girl's thong, unpeeling it slowly, a present for Harry.
"There is one thing you can do." Hermione murmured. "Hey, what are you doing back there?"
Helena unpeeled Hermione's soaking wet thong — it was incredible. Panties so wet they could hear the squish as they unpeeled from where they were stuck to her grooly, enflamed pussy lips. Harry watched with wide eyes at the strands of girl-dew stretching between pussy and panties, at the pooled glistening cream in her thong, and the flooded, eager little pussy of his best friend.
Helena giggled. "You once told me I had the world's wettest pussy. Look at her."
"Take yours off and we'll compare." Harry ordered. His girls were driving him wild. He had things to do, places to be — he needed to meet Fleur, meet Bellatrix, meet Peter Greengrass, deal with Daphne, reply to his blackmailer…but soon he was met with two wiggling asses, swaying from side to side. Two peachy asses, just begging to be groped and spanked, thighs streaked from the sheer dripping cunts.
"What's the one thing I can do, Mione?" Harry muttered as he knelt behind them, cock hard, palming their jiggly cheeks and wondering which of them to fuck first.
Hermione smiled at him, that loving smile she did when she thought he was being stupid. "Oh, Harry. She's a wrecking ball, how did you not think of it already?"
"What?"
"Take her." She rolled her eyes. "Fuck her. Bond her. Make her your good girl, just like we are."
"We're such good girls." Helena dipped her back, arching her ass higher.
"It might be the only way to stop her from destroying the world." Hermione said. They both gasped as he spanked them both, their faces pressed into the bedsheets, their eyes meeting one another. Sisters in debauchery. Helena held her hand, squeezed it.
"Are you okay?" She mouthed.
Hermione squeaked as Harry's cock slowly slid into her. "I'm-I'm-I'm—" She chanted, eyes rolling back in her head as he bottomed out in her.
Helena never did found out what she was, as Harry began hammering her, balls clapping against her, the room filled with Hermione's orgasmic shrieks.
But she heard Harry. "Yes," He mumbled. "Fuck Amelia to save the world."
###
Harry whistled cheerfully as he wandered into the library. Helena and Hermione had left him very drained, but he felt better for having a plan. He felt somewhat bad for pushing Hermione's boundaries, but really, it had been Helena who'd pushed the girl into it.
And, he told himself, Hermione had been very vocally happy by the end of it. He hummed thoughtfully — he may have gone too far when he forced his bleary and exhausted Mione's face into the gaping just-filled cunt of Helena.
The library was where Fleur was supposedly taking a book back to Beauxbatons, her poor excuse for meeting him. But Harry walked into a mad house.
Fleur wobbled on a high ladder, reaching for the books on the third storey of the bookcases that climbed from skirting board to ceiling. And below her was a gaggle of boys, very obviously staring up her pleated white miniskirt.
"A-are you confiante that zis book is here?" Fleur called down. Harry was impressed — he'd never seen a girl climb a ladder in five-inch heels.
"One hundred percent." Seamus grinned.
"I saw it there just yesterday." Neville mumbled, adjusting his jeans.
"It's a little bit to the right." Ron added.
Harry crossed his arms, amused. "Alright, lads?"
"Harry." Dean nodded, looking more than a little sheepish. "Just helping Fleur find this book. She's come specially for it."
"I see that." He smirked. "What's she looking for?"
"Moste Potente Potions." Seamus said, distractedly, not looking away.
"Uh-huh." Harry rubbed his nose, taking in the view. Fleur was wearing a delightful set of red panties, though it was difficult to see them, hidden as they were by a thick pair of peachy ass-cheeks. "And, boys, do you think that a dangerous restricted book on Potions would be in the section of, what is it, historical Herbology?"
Neville went red-faced.
Ron cleared his throat. "Seemed a good start, y'know. Couldn't find Hermione."
"I see."
"Can you boys not get zis for me?" Fleur stomped her foot in frustration as she reached higher, her blouse peeling up her back.
"We told you, we have very bad Quidditch injuries!" Ron called.
"All of you?!"
"I have a shoulder injury. I'm a keeper for Gryffindor. Haven't lost since I started." Ron added unnecessarily.
"I have wrist injuries." Dean lamented, grinning. "Too much…Exploding Snap."
"I have a bad groin." Seamus said sadly. "I'm proper scarlet 'bout it.
They each stared at Neville, who stammered. "I have a stiff…" He trailed off.
"A stiff?" Harry prodded.
"Back?" Seamus suggested. "You can't say that, ya chancer, I've already said that." He whispered.
"You can't say wrist, either." Dean frowned.
"Or shoulder." Ron murmured — he was almost dribbling as he stared up Fleur's skirt.
Neville was in a panic, looking between each of them. "I have a stiffie." He whispered miserably. They each followed his gaze down to his crotch, where his jeans were peaked uncomfortably.
"Perfectly normal." Harry clapped his shoulder.
"I'd be worried if you didn't." Seamus mumbled.
"I zink eet is not here." Fleur called. "I'm coming down."
"All good things must end." Dean muttered. They watched her ass wobble as she descended.
"I think, before just now, I've never really known true happiness." Ron said slowly. "Is that sad?"
"That's beautiful, Ron. You fucking eejit." Seamus shook his head.
"Hey, you were the one that was almost crying—"
"Oh, 'Arry!" Fleur said as she stepped off the ladder and whirled around. "Zis is a pleasant surprise."
"I could say the same." Harry smiled. "What are you doing here?" He asked, as they exchanged cheek kisses.
"Oh, I need zis book only 'Ogwarts has to get extra credit in class." She pouted. "But je ne sais pas, I cannot find it. These nice boys were trying to help me."
"They're so nice." Harry said dryly.
"Erm, maybe we can 'ave a moment alone, oui?" Fleur looked around at the crowd of disappointed boys.
"I'm sure they wouldn't mind." Harry raised an eyebrow at his friends. "Right, guys?"
"Of course." Ron muttered. They slunk away, though Harry was completely certain they were listening from behind a row of bookcases.
"Listen, 'Arry," Fleur took his arm and pulled away. "I was theenking, I was rude to not follow up on our little zing the other night." She crossed her arms behind the small of her back, sticking out her chest — a white button-up blouse strained.
Harry stared at the top button for a second, wondering if it was going to pop off. He didn't want to lose an eye.
"It's okay, Fleur. I'm, well, she's probably told you. I'm exploring this thing with Marie…"
"And she's great!" Fleur said hurriedly. "J'adore Marie." She swept her silvery blonde hair over her ear, pouting with deep red lips. "I just theenk zat you and I could have more fun, non?"
Harry smiled politely. He could see the wildness in her eyes — Marie and Apolline had done a good job driving her crazy. Just how far could he push her? He hadn't been lying to his girls — he really wanted to see the proud Veela beg. "I don't know, Fleur. I'm really old-fashioned — I'm all about monogamy and being loyal."
From behind a bookcase, he swore he heard a snort.
"Oui, I understand." Fleur's tongue ran over her lower lip. "But maybe zat is because you 'ave not seen what a Veela can offer, what I can offer." She stepped closer to him, her knee sliding against his thigh, fingers on his belt. "With me, 'Arry, you wouldn't need to be full of monogamy, oui?" Her eyelashes fluttered. "I am," Her foot slipped from her heel, rose up his ankle. "Very, very, how do you say? Understanding?"
Harry swallowed — if Hermione and Helena hadn't drained him completely, she might well have gotten him hard. "Fleur, you are gorgeous, but I don't want to betray—"
Fleur huffed, breaking away. "Marie cannot do what I can." She insisted. "You do not know so you cannot say."
"I—"
"Give me a date, so I can prove eet." Fleur crossed her arms, chin raised.
"A date?"
"A chance to show you what it is like to 'ave Fleur Delacour as your girl. You will not believe it." She said proudly.
"Fleur," Harry had to stop himself from laughing in her face. He didn't expect this from her — begging him for a date and still acting so arrogant. He couldn't wait to see what she'd be like when they were alone.
He wanted to ruin her, to have the biggest cocktease of his life, the bane of his fourth year, the fantasy of a hundred wanks, the unattainable untouchable treasure, on her knees and begging for his cum.
He took a deep breath. It wasn't easy not to take her right now, not to give into her demands, not to take her to the Room of Requirement and fill every one of her holes until she was overflowing.
He could resist — it was easier to resist when he'd fucked her mother so much, had the older version of her so thoroughly.
"Fleur," He said again. "What's all this about? I didn't expect this from you, of all people."
She blushed, looking down, pride punctured. Only for a second, for she tossed her hair back, giving him a smoky look. "Je suis une fille arrogante, 'Arry. It takes me a while to change my mind, when I 'ave made a mistake. But," Her arms slid around his neck, her long bare legs stepped in between his, her thigh rubbing against his groin.
Fleur smirked at him as she felt a jolt of life from his groin. She breathed him in, trembling. And then she whispered into his ear, her hot breath making him shiver. "I am not afraid to beg, 'Arry."
And then she was gone, strutting away, her heels clapping on the Hogwarts stone. She tugged at the hem of her skirt, because she knew he'd be watching. "Don't make me wait too long, and say merci to your friends." Fleur called over her shoulder, because of course she knew what she was doing the whole time, because that was she offered.
The power to have the hottest cocktease at his beck and call, the envy of all his friends. She wanted his friends to jerk themselves silly over her, because it only increased her value.
Harry watched her leave, smiling in admiration. Even desperate, cum-crazy and willing to demean herself for his attention, she was clever and prideful. He couldn't wait to have her.
The boys slipped out of where they were hiding, watching her go. "I hate you so much, Harry." Dean told him fervently.
Neville brought his hands together like he was at church. "Teach me your ways, Lord Potter, please."
"Sorry for earwigging, boyo." Seamus told him. "You're gonna do her, right?"
Dean looked at him seriously. "If you turn her down, I swear I will never talk to you again."
Ron glanced about, as if Hermione was going to appear from nowhere. "Listen, Harry." He said quietly, so quietly they all had to lean in to hear him. "I'm not proud of this, but, like, on a scale of one to ten, how weird is it if I give you my Omnioculars to record it?"
"Ron!" Seamus said, shocked. "…I'll pay forty galleons."
Dean grimaced. "I'll pay twenty, but I can get Ernie to give you like, two hundred."
"He won't need to." Neville said firmly. "House Longbottom has coffers enough for this."
Harry guffawed, tears coming to his eyes. "N-Nev, I don't think that's what your parents had in mind for your trust fund—"
"You don't know that—"
"Nev's right, you don't know that." Ron agreed.
"Listen, lads," Harry put a hand on Neville and Ron's shoulder. "I'm not giving you footage, but I'll get you a photo, okay? Not a tease, not a dance, a bare-all photo. Deal? That's your Christmas present for the next ten years, for all of you."
The boys grumbled and glanced at each other, before they cleared their throat.
"House Longbottom accepts this generous gift and shall not forget it." Neville said seriously.
"House Thomas is more of a semi-detached two up, two down, kind of property." Dean said cheerfully.
"House Finnegan barely has a roof." Seamus cracked. "But who needs a roof when you've got a working wrist and a photo of Fleur feckin' Delacour."
Ron was silent, for a long moment. He shook his head, smiled. "Harry, I love you to death and I'll always be there, but sometimes it's really hard to be your friend."
"I get it." Harry said sympathetically. "I'm sorry, for what's it worth."
"It's okay." Ron patted his back. "Thank you, brother. You're a real one. I know just giving us a photo goes against your hero ethics."
"What ethics?" Seamus muttered.
"You know, the Harry from the papers. Kissing babies and hugging old grannies." Ron rolled his eyes.
"I was endorsing the Bones election campaign!" Harry protested.
"Whatever, I saw Rita Skeeter's election supplement, I remember the headline. Easy charm of Potter gratifies the grannies."
Dean snapped his fingers. "I saw that! Now I remember the photo. You dipped that old broad like you were ballroom dancing."
"They're a key demographic." Harry said. "Young people don't vote."
"You're a pussy-hound, Harry." Seamus teased. "Even the old women aren't safe from Potter the Pensioner-pounder."
"That's not a nickname I have, don't try and make that a thing." Harry pointed a threatening finger.
"Stay away from my Gran, Harry." Neville warned.
The boys descended into elbow-jabbing and name-calling for a minute, something Harry was always grateful for. A chance to be Harry with the boys, not Master with the girls, or Lord Potter with the problems.
"Hey?" Ron realized suddenly. "You meant a photo each, right? I'm not sharing with Neville."
"Neville's photo won't last a week." Seamus joked.
"Neville won't last a week, you mean. He'll look like a skeleton." Dean jabbed.
"You know that's what Dementors are, Nev?" Ron grinned. "Just wizards that wanked too much."
"Oh, fuck off, all of you." Neville groaned, his pudgy face red. "It's not like you guys are going to frame it to your wall, is it? I hear your bed squeaking, Seamus."
Seamus roared with laughter, unrepentant. "What about you, Harry? Do you even have to touch yourself these days?"
The boys went quiet — Harry knew that it wasn't cool to bring up details. The guys didn't really want to know about their friend Hermione, or even any confirmations of the whirling rumors about Hannah and more.
They just wanted to live vicariously through him, know that he was living his best life, taking advantage of being the fame and the money.
Harry considered what to say.
"No, I don't jerk it anymore." The girls would be upset if he did. Jacking off to Daphne while she worked her plug inside her world-class ass had been a one-off, but he couldn't stop himself.
"But for Fleur Delacour? I think, even if I fuck it up, which, let's face it, I definitely will—"
"Guaranteed." Dean nodded.
"Even you." Neville agreed.
"—I'll still be jerking off to the thought of her when I'm a hundred years old."
"She'll still be fit." Ron said confidently.
"My Gran's not far from a hundred years old." Neville said absently.
"And she's still got it." Harry wiggled his eyebrows.
"Harry!"
"What?" He wrapped an arm around his nervous friend. "Why'd you think I made an alliance with House Longbottom?"
Seamus nodded sagely. "I knew it. Potter the Pensioner-pounder."