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"It'll fit, don't worry." Harry said, without any confidence. His red angry cock seemed harder and even larger than usual, poking at Daphne's little rosebud.
He ran his shaft between her thighs again, coating it in pureblood lubrication, liquid privilege. He stroked himself, letting the sound of slick skin resound in the air, letting Tracey see how big he was.
Daphne lurched before him, trembling. "Will you be angry, if it doesn't fit?" She bit her lip as she looked back at him. "I know Morgana makes witches fit their wizards, but I don't think that counts for…back there."
Harry smiled reassuringly. "It'll work…I think. I haven't done this before. I wanted your ass, before all others." He traced the shape of her behind admiringly. Daphne was slim and tall, for a girl, but her behind was ample, rounded, curving out from her figure.
Daphne's behind was well-noted by the Hogwarts student body as being in the top three of things that made no sense, behind the Point-Me spell ("An English incantation is most rare!" Hermione decried.) and the whole field of divination.
Seamus had loudly theorized that Daphne was an old family relative of Neville's, from a clan named Widebottom.
Dean figured she'd been injecting her family's potions into her ass.
Daphne shivered under his touch. "I've always been embarrassed by it." She murmured, pushing herself against his touch. "I was so slender, like those weak obedient ladies in the picturebook fairytales we read growing up. Morgana's Dedication or The Trials of Arthur. But…"
"But with a big ass." He finished, slapping her behind and watching it jiggle and then form back into perfect tautness.
"From my mother." She blushed.
"It'll fit." He said again. It had to. "I've been training you for it, haven't I? My good little anal girl, wearing her plug day and night."
He nudged his cockhead against her opening, making her gasp.
Daphne snapped her hand out to take Tracey's, squeezing it tight, needing any sort of comfort. She didn't want to look at her best friend while she was humiliated, but Harry's hand threaded through her long hair, pulling it back so she was forced to stare at Tracey's weeping face.
Her friend was wide-eyed, open-mouthed, shocked and red-faced.
And Harry advanced.
"Please," Daphne begged. "Trace, don't look, don't look. It's going, it's going!" She shrieked. "I can't do it, I can't do it." She chanted.
But all the while, she held her asscheeks wide, pushing her pouting hole back.
Harry pushed forward, his eyes locked on his mushroom head, his riddle's answer, waiting and willing for it to disappear. He'd never forget this moment — it felt like the first time he'd rode a broomstick, or losing his virginity with Narcissa, or casting his first spell.
But, try as he might, he couldn't get her hole to envelop his cock. He was just too girthy, and her opening had closed firmly, the girl too nervous.
He wouldn't be robbed of this.
A wave of his wand and Tracey fell to the floor in a heap of limbs. Her gag zoomed into his hand. Another whispered spell and the walls were covered in mirrors. A hall of mirrors to make the room into a den of debauchery, every angle showing skin and sin.
"I can't get in." He said quietly, his mind clouded by lust. "I need you to help her."
Tracey gaped up at him from the floor. Daphne stared in disbelief.
He was resolute. "You haven't got a wand. You can leave, but I'm going to take her ass whether you're here or not. I'll find you, wherever you run." He cut off her sudden scream as she scrambled to her feet.
"But, if you stay, you can make it pleasurable for her. I'm not leaving this room until I've got every inch of my cock into her tight ass, but you can still choose to be a good friend." He smirked. "After all, you got her in this…position." He smacked Daphne's ass for effect.
Tracey glared, her fingers twitching like she wanted to wrap them around his neck. "I hate you." She hissed. "I'll never forgive you for this. I don't care what happens to me, I will never rest until I'm pissing on your fucking grave." She shook with rage, her eyes narrowed.
Harry shrugged. "Was that a yes?"
"Tracey," Daphne warned. "D-don't fight him—"
The auburn-haired girl clenched her fists, staring up at the wooden rafters above, blinking rapidly to try and stop the tears from falling. "I will…I'll never understand how it came to this, Daphne." She sniffed.
Even dressed like an expensive whore, holding her asscheeks apart, face pressed against the wall, Daphne was still capable of a mighty glare. "You did this. I'm saving your life!"
Tracey said nothing, but her fight was gone. One hand held Daphne's thick cheek, while she sucked the finger of her other. Slowly, like she was in a trance, she traced her wet finger around Daphne's asshole.
Daphne shivered, legs trembling, as her anus glistened wetly. Tracey soothed her into relaxing and then, with an audible pop, worked her finger in.
Harry watched with fascination. The power he held, the power that made the hair on his neck stand up. The uncomfortable delight he held in dominating others, the delight he knew he'd got from Tom.
Tracey rhythmically worked her finger into Daphne's ass, loosening her up until the blonde beauty was moaning gently, fingernails scratching the paint from the wall.
"She's ready." Tracey said shortly.
Harry flexed his cock. "Put me in."
She scowled. "I'm not touching that disgusting thing." Her nostrils flared as she looked warily at his stiff cock, gleaming in the light of the candle-chandelier above. The candles were burning an apple scent, blown around the room by the oddly placed ceiling fan next to the chandelier, whirring gently.
He scoffed. "Come off it, Tracey. You're the first ever lesbian witch, the only girl unaffected by Morgana's magic? Really?"
"Fuck you." She breathed, her face tight, lips thin. But he stared back unflinchingly, until she grimaced and, with her forefinger and thumb, her cheeks burning, she picked up his cock like a vampire would garlic.
To his great satisfaction, she placed him at Daphne's entrance and, spreading her friend's cheeks, slowly fed him into Daphne's tight asshole.
"Oh, oh, oh!" Daphne cried.
Harry gasped as her anus swallowed his girthy cockhead. He was inside Daphne!
Daphne's eyes rolled back as his cock forced, slowly but surely, into her ass. It was unbelievably tight, the heat unimaginable, and Harry was bewitched by every sight and sound. Tracey's hands on Daphne's, both girls sinking their fingers into plump buttocks in order to spread Daphne fully, the glistening rosebud that slowly opened wider to stretch around his sinking shaft.
"No, no, no!" Daphne sobbed. "He's in, he's in. Tracey!" She squealed.
"It's okay," Tracey said soothingly, but her eyes showed her inner torture as her best friend was taken from her. "You're okay."
Harry pushed forward, inch after inch disappearing into the girl's beautiful bottom. He watched her backdoor stretch wide around his cock, forever reshaped for him.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Daphne wept, her neck craned unnaturally by his unyielding grasp in her hair. "I'm sorry, Father." She moaned oddly. "I tried to be strong!"
As Harry pushed forward, Tracey tried to soothe her struggling friend, unclipping Daphne's bra and groping the girl's soft breasts, trying to give her pleasure to distract from the huge dick slowly entering her bottom.
Daphne was crying, but she was still being a good girl — bent over for him, arching her bottom, holding herself open. Harry let go of her hair and she still looked back at him, her mouth wide as the emotions flickered over her face.
He let himself take hold of her heavenly ass, squeezing and mauling to his heart's content. "Almost there, slut." Harry taunted. "I know you can take it all."
"I can't!" Daphne shrieked, panting. "I'm full, please—"
But Harry pushed forward unforgivingly, breaching open her tight walls, sliding into the heat, his pre-cum oozing from his tip, like a torch held in front of a fearless adventurer in the hottest jungle.
Finally, he bottomed out, his cock fully embedded, his groin pressed into her pillowy asscheeks. Every vein, every inch, every bit of his fat cock was stuffed into her virgin tunnel.
Harry groaned with pleasure, grinding himself against her soft bottom. She felt incredible, tight, hot and soft all at once.
"I'm inside you, Daphne. I'm fucking your ass." He murmured. "I'm deep inside your perfect ass."
Daphne's mouth formed an O shape, her eyes unfocused, sweat dripping from her brow. She shivered as he pulled out, squealed as he thrust back in.
Tracey kept groping her breasts, kneading her nipples, but she stretched an exploratory hand towards Daphne's pussy. Daphne was soaking wet, her cunt dripping onto the floor, down her legs, even onto Harry.
And as Harry fucked her slowly, his moans as louder as her whimpers, Tracey shook her head in wonder. "You really love this, don't you?"
Daphne sniffled, blue eyes resplendent with tears, her whole form rocking as she was fucked into the wall. "Please don't w-watch, oooh, please! He's so deeeeep!" She screamed as Harry fucked particularly hard.
"I wish I could have made you feel like this." Tracey said softly. "You're so wet."
Daphne's face was red, but she couldn't hide her humiliation. "H-he's in my stomach, he's stuffed me, I'm, I can't, I can't—" But they never found out what she couldn't do, because she stiffened and squirted all over Tracey's hand.
Harry laughed, feeling a touch of mania as he fucked into Daphne's warm welcoming asshole, recording it all in his mind. The squelch of her hole as he fucked it wide, as it became steadily wetter with his spurting precum, the squish of her cunt as Tracey fingered her, the squirt of her juices down her thigh, onto the floor. And best of all, the slap-slap-slap of her bottom as he fucked into her, his balls clapping against her skin, her meaty buttocks bouncing and jiggling like the jelly dessert the elves sometimes served.
He couldn't get over how sensitive she was — he'd smack her ass hard and she'd screech, eyes rolled back and shivering through another humiliating anal orgasm. Harry could rise up with his cock deep inside her, and Daphne would arch her heeled feet onto her tiptoes, just to keep his cock inside her.
She was a defenseless, flushed, shaking, squirting slut, whimpering orgasm after orgasm as he pounded her ass, groping her bottom while her best friend fingered her cunt and kneaded her breast.
She whimpered half-sentences.
"So deep!"
"So full!"
"I'm not—"
"S-sorry!"
But they both ignored her, as Harry began to fuck her even more roughly.
"Isn't this what you fantasized about, Daph?" Harry mocked.
"N-no," She groaned. "Saving T-Tracey—" She said lamely. Her hands didn't know where to place themselves, caught between holding herself wide or flat on the wall to steady herself as her legs wobbled.
Harry took the decision away from her, grabbing both her wrists and locked them in a cross behind her back.
"As my wife, I'll have you every night like this." He promised darkly. "My Lady Black will either have my cock in her ass or be plugged up. You'll never go to a lesson, a party, a wedding, without my plug in your asshole. This is the beginning of your new life."
"N-no, Harry!" She cried in shame, her face red, but her lip was bit so fully that it was stung and swollen, her breath heavy as she panted excitedly.
"You're so disgusting." Tracey told her quietly, but the girl's nipples were hard through her blouse. "We were meant to be better than this, than all men. Together til the end." Tracey's lip curled.
"I-I'm sorry!" Daphne wailed. "I c-can't help it, it's my body, oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!" She screeched as her juices pooled on the floorboards below, her legs failing, her form held up purely by Harry's cock and Tracey's less-than-gentle fingers.
Tracey stilled for a telling moment, and then, in a flash of movement, she was at Harry's side, snatching his wand from his hip-holster.
She held it to his chest, red sparks flying, her face white with terror and anger.
"N-no!" Daphne moaned emptily, saliva dripping from her chin.
Tracey trembled. "Y-you're a freak, Potter, you deserve t—"
Harry laughed, not even ceasing his hard thrusts into Daphne's reddened bottom. He reached out and touched the tip of his wand. His spell shot from the other side of the wand.
Tracey sank to her knees, hit with a Confundus Charm. She blinked dazedly, squat on the ground.
"Stupid girl." He muttered.
Harry withdrew from Daphne with a squelch, his cock matted with his precum and shining. Daphne moaned, falling to the floor, head down, ass up, her gaping hole winking smaller as his precum dribbling out.
The other devious Slytherin girl stared up at him blearily.
Harry sighed, tilted Tracey's head back and forced his messy cock into the girl's mouth. "Do you like the taste of my cum and Daphne's ass, Tracey darling?"
Tracey gurgled.
But it wasn't in her that he wanted to finish.
"Daphne, you okay?"
"Who?" She moaned incomprehensibly.
"Good enough." He decided. This was meant to be a punishment, after all.
His muscles ached as he lifted her.
"H-Harry, what—" Daphne squeaked as she was suddenly hoisted against his chest, dangling dangerously over his hard cock. She stared down anxiously, like she was hovering over a tank of Grindylows.
For a moment, he admired her pussy — red with blood, absolutely gooey with her cream and blindingly reflective with the wet of her juices, the array of trickles down her thigh.
"You are a wonderful slut, Daphne." He said, kissing her cheek.
She blushed, closing her eyes.
But when she opened them, he'd turned around. Her legs folded in two, just a posable fuckdoll. Daphne shivered — she felt like a slut.
As a child, Mother would tell her a cautionary tale of a Pureblood daughter that had runaway from home as soon as she was of age, believing herself to be in love with an older man, a Mudblood in the village.
Six months later, she'd come home crying, pregnant and thrown away. But even that sordid tale didn't compare to what depths Daphne was descending to.
Daphne took a deep breath to try and slow her pounding heart. Harry held her aloft easily, his strength unerring. His big hands hooked under her knees and spreading her so wide. Just the act of having her legs spread was more erotic to her than anything she'd ever done with Tracey.
And his cock, that massive hard cock that was disgusting and obscene and red and wet with the evidence of her arousal, it slid up and down at the apex of her thighs, sliding through her creamy pussy lips.
Fuck, Daphne thought, it was so large, how did it possibly fit inside her? How had he fit it inside her aching, gaping, reshaped asshole?
"You're doing so well, sweetheart." Harry said into her neck, nuzzling through her sweaty blonde tresses to kiss her skin.
Daphne thought she was going to die. It was all too much. It was too much pleasure, it was too much pain, too much sensation, too much humiliation. She hadn't anything left to give, but Harry took all the same.
Directly below her dripping pussy, Tracey drooled dizzily as she sat on shaky thighs, not even noticing the little dewy drops of rain.
Daphne shuddered. No doubt, Harry had positioned her deliberately. He was a Lord truly, because power was meant to be used.
"My Daphne…" He crooned silkily, fucking through her creamy cunt, letting the wet squelches echo through the room, their joint splatter onto Tracey's face.
More than anything, it was the smell that overwhelmed the Slytherin princess. She could close her eyes and try to ignore the sound of her squishy pussy, her asscheeks clapping as she was fucked, like her own body was applauding her downfall, but she couldn't escape the smell that she'd become accustomed to over the last few months.
The powerful aroma of her own arousal, her own musk, her own pussy dripping and aching and begging for more. The smell of submission, the smell she couldn't clean from her sheets, or lick from her fingers. It was everywhere, and the whirring fan breezed it around all the more.
Harry bounced her teasingly, his chin on her shoulder, watching her breasts bounce. He closed her legs completely and fucked her thighs too, his cock poking obscenely between her legs. And why not, Daphne supposed, because he'd taken her so thoroughly that he could now fuck parts of her that she'd never even considered.
Controlled by him, used by him, she felt like the little teenage runaway slut being used by the older man. Except, he wasn't a Mudblood, but Lord Potter, jewel of society. And she hadn't runaway, but been given away proudly, her parents delivering her gift-wrapped.
This set of lingerie had been delivered by owl by her mother, even, a week ago.
The note in the box had read. To my beloved daughter Daphne, a gift for the girl that has become a woman. I'm so proud of you.
Your loving mother.
Daphne had thought it was another oddity from her quirky mother, but now she knew. Mother was putting a bow on her for her new husband to unwrap.
She'd hate it all, all of this, all of Harry, if it wasn't so terribly and undeniably hot.
Who knew that being treated like a whore was so damned arousing?
As Harry bounced her, folding her up like parchment so her knees were against her shoulders, Daphne tried to scowl into the many mirrors of the room, to conjure her trademark glare.
But in the reflection, she only saw a breathless, sweaty, gurning whore. She saw Harry's pussy-coated cock retreat, saw herself lifted a little higher, and then, with dawning fear, saw the cock sink once more into her bottom.
"Harrrrry!" She cried as she was filled, his cock bottomed out inside her. The mirror showed his bulging heavy balls, and her silent scream as she was bounced up, his cock-skin being pulled by her tight asshole as it withdrew to only the tip, before burying itself once more.
"Can't get enough." Harry mumbled as he fucked her, rolling his hips and arching his cock, while his strong arms made her rise and fall, an endless inescapable roller-coaster.
Daphne was once more thrown into mindless delights, the pit of fire in her ass, the glorious balm of spouting precum, the ecstasy of being filled completely, stuffed beyond measure. And the push and pull, feeling every ridge and vein of his cock exit and enter, again and again.
Her eyes rolled back.
Her toes curled.
And despite herself, clenched fists and closed eyes, the scent of defeat came with a full-body shiver. Daphne cried as she squirted loudly, spraying Tracey's face below, while Harry laughed.
Harry blew away the strands of Daphne's hair so he could see Tracey's humiliation, her face splashed with Daphne's cum-rainfall, her slow ascent to understanding as the Confundus wore off, as she saw her lover being ass-fucked just inches away.
Harry folded Daphne in two as he hammered, reaching boiling point. Her tight little asshole felt too good, too hot, the tightening she did as he thrust, her tunnel milking his cock when she clenched through another anal orgasm.
"I'm going to cum in your ass, Daphne." He warned.
Her bubbly ass squeezed him, her moans and whimpers bringing him closer.
And then, the final straw, the sight of her biting her lip. She bucked down at him and cried. "Yes!"
Harry broke. He let her fall one last time, his cock fully bottomed out, and groaned with release.
"Fuck!" He growled, his balls tightening and his cock rocking even deeper into her asshole before he unloaded thick creamy ropes of cum deep inside her.
"Oh, I can feel—oh!" Daphne shrieked with breathless pleasure as she felt her abused ass being filled with rope after rope of hot seed. It was like every string of jizz made her squirt, the sensations surreal but overwhelming.
Tracey was showered below, but Harry grunted as he kept cumming, finally relieving of his heavy load. He kept his eyes open to watch Daphne come undone, her eyes rolled back, her legs spread wide, her cunt-spray wild, her whole body rolling and shaking.
Harry lathered her insides with every drop of cum, and the sensations felt so good that he had to keep rocking up into her until she was finished, his eyes locked on her orgasmic throes.
It was obscene, her belly bulging with the amount of cum he'd unloaded inside her.
It was wild.
But finally, it was over. He withdrew his cock from her and watched his cum ooze from her ass onto Tracey's helpless face.
He narrowed his eyes as he lowered Daphne to the ground. A little magic, and the seed on Tracey's face formed the shape of a lightning bolt.
"Harry's blot." He murmured to himself, feeling insane.
He wasn't the only one.
Daphne clutched to him tightly as she cried, overwhelmed and hysteric. "I-I don't know who I've become!" She shook. "I don't know who I am!"
"I do." Harry promised. "You're mine." He took her to the bed and laid her out, absently stunning Tracey as she made for the door. He smiled down at Daphne, admiring her beauty.
She was a vision, even when he'd ruined her. Strands of blonde hair sticking to her face, baby blue eyes red-rimmed, lips puffy and swollen as she bit them. Her nipples were just as red, just as puffy, skin sticky with sweat.
He kissed her, imbuing his affection for having saved him, his apologies for having besmirched her. He swept the hair from her face and caressed her cheek with his thumb, kissing away her tears.
"I…" Her eyes were doe-like and vulnerable. "I wanted to be stronger than any princess. My mother was so fierce, before she lost her fire. I knew-I knew I'd have to marry, first daughter of the family, but I thought I could find a man I could lead around."
"You were wrong." Harry said simply.
Daphne traced his face, taking it in his every feature. "You'll really marry me?"
"I will."
"I…I have a lot of anger. Resentment, even." She said challengingly. "I'll manipulate you whenever I can."
"I know."
She glared, her jaw firm. "I'll scheme against any other girls you have, reduce them to nothing."
"I know." He tweaked her nose.
She stared at him obstinately. "I-I'll spend all your money!"
"Not as fast as I make it." He said, amused.
Daphne sniffed. "I'll resist every second."
He kissed her. "And I'll enjoy breaking you down, each and every time." He knee-climbed to the pillows and sank his cock into her mouth as she made to argue, making her cheek bulge. She cleaned his messy cock, too tired to put up any fight.
When she was done, he gave her a glass of water and cuddled her tight, against her side.
"I'll always need you to be strong." Daphne said, staring at the wall as he held her. She looked over her shoulder. "I despise weakness. I couldn't ever love a man who was content with second place."
Harry kissed her bare skin. "I'll be stronger than any other."
"Well…" Daphne hesitated, searching for any other argument. "Well, alright then. I'll marry you." She said, as if she had any choice.
"Good."
She squeezed his hand on her stomach. "I'll never accept being bad at anything, not even as your wife. You'll be happy."
"I think so." Harry said dryly.
"Have you got a ring for me? A nice jewel?" She said primly, as if she didn't have his cum oozing from her ass.
"Not here." He kissed her neck. "But, as a promise…" He slipped down the bed to her behind and parted her cheeks.
"What are you—oh!" Daphne squeaked as she felt the cold chill of the emerald jeweled plug push inside her.
"That's the only jewel I have right now." Harry snickered as he embraced her.
Daphne sighed, squeezing the pillow tightly. "I'd thought my first time would be romantic, you know? Not so…obscene." She grimaced.
He chuckled into the nape of her neck. "Haven't you learned? I've never cared what you think, wife."
She rolled her eyes. "How did I get so lucky?"
"We'll have a quick nap and then I'll show you how lucky you are." He murmured tiredly.
She pushed her bottom back at him. "Promise?"
He pressed his lips to her skin. He'd changed his mind, entranced by her. He had to bond her now — she'd earned that, by saving his bacon. By enduring all that he put her through, for the last month and today as well.
He smiled to himself. His first wife. Would his parents be proud?
"Daphne?"
"Hmm?" She said sleepily, his eyes closed.
"You'll come to love me, I swear. I might mix a little pain with the pleasure, but I'll never hurt you truly. I'll do right by you, your family, and make you happy beyond compare."
Daphne smiled into her pillow. "Were those your marriage vows?"
"And I'll always indulge your little humiliation fetish."
She stiffened. "I do not have—"
"I'm going to tell Rita our happy news. Potter to wed the pureblood princess Daphne Greengrass. He said last night that he had to put a ring on it, after he took all her holes—"
"Merlin, Harry!" She elbowed him.
"In an order that will surprise you—"
"Harry!" He caught her arm, laughing, pressing his naked body firmly against hers.
"Go to sleep, sweetheart." He said quietly. "You're going to need your energy."
Daphne shivered.
###
From the newly repaired tearoom windows, Narcissa sighed. She was overseeing the Alley clean-up, since she'd decided that Harry would be happy to donate some money to the street's repair, since it would make for good publicity.
While the goblins and the construction crew worked together, a somber election happened in the background. Gone were the glee and the buzzing crowds, but instead there was a somber line of people trailing to the election booths.
By the side, Scrimgeour and Shacklebolt were shaking hands, competing with another on bandages strapped to their body, more than votes. The election had none of the previous bombast, but the Aurors were plentiful.
Real Aurors this time, Narcissa hoped.
"Is that you, cousin?" A deep voice rang out, full of mock-surprise.
Narcissa closed her eyes. It had been a long day, and to add this too?
She turned and pasted a smile on. "Sirius, so good to see you free."
"Cousin Cissy," Sirius wore expensive black robes, the collar and sleeve trimmed with midnight blue. He clapped his hands together. "You look stunning, a woman reborn!"
His grin was mocking. Narcissa smiled thinly.
"Sirius, perhaps this is not the time. People have died—"
Sirius came closer all the same. "I just wanted to ensure my beloved godson hasn't been ensnared by the wicked witch of the chest—" His gaze dropped to her bountiful cleavage, sneering.
Narcissa shot him a withering glare. "It is he that has ensnared me, I assure you."
"Well, I see that you're dressed the part, at least." Sirius ran her eyes down his form and Narcissa resisted the urge to squirm. In the setting sun, the light through the windows was shining through her thin dress. "No pantylines, Cissy?"
Narcissa clenched her fist. Her cousin was determined to embarrass her, in front of the few that remained in the tea room. "I am a Mistress of House Potter, aren't I?"
Sirius sniggered. "Has our Harry been giving you the old TriWizard Tournament?"
"What—?
"Three very different tasks."
Narcissa obviously looked confused, because Sirius rolled his eyes.
"One for each hole?"
She felt her face redden. "I would never—" That was disgusting. Harry had never expressed an interest in back there, and her love knew that he had her however he liked. Clearly, her Lord agreed that it was disgusting and not done by any self-respecting witch.
"Azkaban didn't make you grow up, I see." She said icily.
Sirius shrugged. "I'm just making sure my godson, as smart as he is, isn't losing his way for the first bit of old pussy that throws itself at him. His father wouldn't have wanted that."
"I did not throw—" She took a deep breath. "Harry is wise and beyond any manipulation."
"Is he now?" Sirius crossed his arms doubtfully. "You jumped quick as soon as you lost your throne, didn't you? What happened? Ol' Lucy threatened to dump you for a younger model, so you had him killed and jumped ship to the next big thing?"
Narcissa growled, her fingernails digging into her palm. "Listen, cousin," She hissed. "I love Harry and believe me, I didn't think I was capable of it, either. But he has treated me in a way I don't deserve, treasured me—"
"I don't give a shit how he treats you, cousin." Sirius snapped. "I remember everything, I know who you are deep down. He should treat you like a broomstick and you should be grateful for it!"
Narcissa regulated her breath as they drew a crowd. The waiters, the few nobles that had stayed to clean up, or to posture bravery. Harry did use her as a broomstick, when he wanted. But he was just as likely to make sweet love to her as he was to bend her over and pound her, which was part of why she loved him. He was unpredictable.
"Oh," Sirius said slowly, his eyes knowing. "He is, is he? Is my godson giving you the lightning bolt?"
"Don't be crude, Sirius—"
"Are you going to breed him a whole Quidditch team?" Sirius sneered. "I hope he makes you work for every knut he gives you, and double for the redemption campaign you've got going on."
Narcissa raised her head proudly, her eyes narrowed. "I am at my Lord's demand, like every Mistress should be." She said loudly, for the benefit of their crowd. "I'm grateful for his love, and I'll never treat it lightly."
"You best do that, Cissy." Sirius said threateningly. "Because if I ever see a hint of your nasty whispering tongue in his ear, corrupting him, I'll end you. I owe Harry everything, you understand?"
Narcissa didn't let herself explode, not even when she felt Sirius' booze-filled breath on her face. She just turned and stalked away to the stairs.
She could let him have the last word, for Harry.
"Make sure to polish his wand regularly!" Sirius called after her, causing a chorus of snickers.
Narcissa stepped into the alley, willing herself to calm down. She was red-faced, unused to such public humiliaton. She wasn't used to the stares, the talks behind her back, the sniggering. But it was all fine, as long as it was for Harry.
Lord Potter would look all the mightier, for sheltering and using her, for putting her in her place. That was the real story between the lines of Rita's stories, what the people wanted to read. Those were the quotes they'd used deliberately.
Harry. "I'll keep her busy tending to my House."
Her. "Harry will keep me on the straight and narrow."
Harry. "She's a free and fiery spirit, so I'll have to keep her on a short leash!"
That was what people wanted to see. And even if it was humiliating, Harry benefited.
That was all that mattered.
Besides, she thought, tugging down her dress, it wasn't as if wasn't hot as hell that everybody knew what Harry did to her.
Still, it was different when Sirius shouted it for all to hear.
"Stupid man." She muttered. TriWizard Tournament, really! One task for each hole — she'd never heard of a witch doing it back there. Harry wouldn't want that, would he?
No, Narcissa thought confidently. Harry liked to do all manner of obscenities to her — painting her face, fucking her breasts, bending her over and folding her up. Even having her taste his seed from her own daughter.
But he wouldn't like that.
She sniffed. Lucius was the one that liked backdoors, male ones.
A familiar owl hooted and Narcissa blinked as a snowy owl descended. Hedwig had found her.
She unfolded a note from Harry.
Sweetheart,
I left Daphne and Tracey in room 204 in the Leaky Cauldron. Can you make sure Tracey gets sent to Peter Greengrass? Tell him she 'll need a re-education — she almost killed me, so don't be gentle.
Daphne …I've really put her through it. I was going to bring her home, but I can't let her parents see her like this.
Can you clean her up and take her home? Maybe give her a talking to — she 'll be the new Lady Black, soon enough.
It 's rather messy, sorry.
Yours, Harry.
P.S I love you.
Narcissa burned the note with the tip of her wand. Harry was a cad, bless him. Undoubtedly, he'd left Daphne in the same state he left Narcissa and Helena sometimes.
She paused suddenly. When Harry said clean up, he usually meant with his tongue.
Did he?
She shook her head. If Daphne was the new wife, it changed everything for the delicate structure of power that had formed in the group of Harry's lovers. Daphne would be a powerful enemy.
Or…an ally, Narcissa realized.
Her heels clipped on the cobbles as she made her way to the Leaky Cauldron, a plan forming.
She'd clean Daphne up with her tongue, blow her mind with pleasure and sordidness. Then, while the silly little girl was dizzy, she'd ensure that Harry's new wife realized Narcissa was the font of power, Harry's most loved and treasured.
Narcissa bit her lip. It wouldn't be a hardship. Harry's cum was incredible, and while it was humiliating, she did so love being the clean-up girl. It was the ultimate reminder of what he'd done to her, reduced from a proud woman at the head of society to a cum-slurping whore.
She walked a little faster in anticipation. After all, even if Harry said it was messy, how bad could it possibly be?
###
Voldemort sipped on his wine thoughtfully, watching the doors to his chambers. The day was coming to a close, but he was expecting one more visitor. Not the army of the brainless that he'd sent to the Alley, because they'd been pulverized, according to every report.
That was disappointing, but not unexpected. It was enough to destroy the building hope — a Minister was only as powerful as their promises, and when those promises of strength and stability were shown to be laughable, so was their ability to get anything done. Scrimgeour didn't know it, but he was already sipping from a poisoned chalice.
The Dark Lord glanced through his stained glass window, at the flapping owls that dotted the sky. Messages of support, requests for protection, pledges of allegiance — some could see the way the winds blew. They couldn't be trusted, pledging complete loyalty while hiding secrets, donating funds while stashing treasure, but it was a start.
People were beginning to wake up, to understand.
Even if the newspapers didn't, not yet. Their headlines screamed stupidity from atop his side table, stamped with the red rings of his wine glasses. The demure look of the newly revealed Malfoy daughter reminded him that even Lucius, his lost loyal dragon, had kept secrets from him.
He smiled as the doors opened with a creak, swirling his wine glass.
It was as he expected.
"The little dragon." Voldemort greeted. His eyes narrowed as the boy threw himself on the ground, prostrating. He did so despise weakness. "He finally comes to pay his respects, after all this time."
Draco's fingers dug into the stone grooves. "My Lord. I have come to serve you." His voice was steady, at least.
The Dark Lord snorted at that. "You have come seeking refuge, boy. Don't lie to me, for my eyes see all." He sighed. It was so difficult, when weapons dulled themselves and then came asking to be wielded. "You sought to slay Potter and now you fear his wrath."
The blond boy trembled, his head rising so Voldemort could see the gray of his eyes. "M-my Lord, I have always wanted to serve as my father did, as loyal and as honored—"
His words trailed off as Voldemort tutted, frowning. "If that was true, you would have come to me as I asked in my letters, little dragon. As Lord of your House, your whore mother gone from this world, your fortune restored." He lounged on his throne, twirling wine and wand both. "Instead, you come destitute and begging."
Draco shook, his eyes wide and pleading. "I c-can be useful, my Lord, I swear—"
"You would have been useful a month ago. Indeed, you would have useful a day ago, when you were still a Hogwarts student. Today, no." Voldemort smirked. "Just another parasite sucking on the teat of true power."
Draco's fingernails scratched on the stone. "M-my Lord, I can go back to Hogwarts, Dumbledore will let me—"
"The old man is not the issue." Voldemort sniffed. "Potter would have you killed or your mind wiped." He placed his wine down on the sidetable, on the newspaper. Helena Malfoy's face refracted through the glass.
The Dark Lord stilled.
"But perhaps," He said slowly. "Perhaps you can still attend school."
"M-my Lord?"
"A different school, where Potter's eyes linger less closely. Durmstrang."
Draco looked up eagerly, even if he trembled. "What would you ask of me, my Lord?"
Voldemort caressed the newspaper, his mind adrift with fantasies of domination. "Sometimes, little dragon, it is not enough for men to die." He shuddered as his magic swam into his wand, the power hypnotic. "Sometimes, they must first suffer."
"My Lord?"
The Dark Lord barely heard him, lost in the throes of magic, his wine glasses shattering. "And what makes a man suffer more than family?"
###
Cynthia pulled up the weed firmly, her shovel extended like a shield to stop the fanged slimy roots from snapping at her. The invasive plant was famous for looking like rats, and for biting like them too.
It wasn't long since she'd become a Greengrass, but she was learning quickly. It wouldn't do for the new Lady Greengrass to not know her plants, after all.
A shadow grew on the soil — a shadow that shouldn't be there, not when the sun was directly overhead.
"You've come back." Cynthia said easily, stopping herself from panicking. The man that came through the wards like they'd didn't exist.
She looked up, but like the last time, it was if the sun was in her eyes, casting the stranger in a dark silhouette. A man, strong and slim, his jawline pronounced.
"I have, only to thank you."
"I haven't done it, yet. I didn't even agree to it, you know?"
"Haven't you?" His voice was amused.
Cynthia paused at that. Time was a strange thing and not best messed with. She had purchased the bag to gift to her daughter on that specific date, in the future.
She had begun brewing the Wiggenweld potion, in her private quarters, in her own cauldron, to ensure it was done right.
"I'm still not sure I can trust the stranger that trespasses with such ease." Cynthia said idly, throwing the weed into her large garden bag. The bag wriggled, containing many nasty plants. Idly, she wondered if she should throw it at the mysterious wizard.
"And yet you do. And yet you have. I'm on your side, believe it or not."
Cynthia pursed her lips. She wanted to toss her hair back out of her eyes, but that might be seen as flirtatious. She wished she wasn't wearing her gardening outfit, the shirt tied under her breasts, the denim shorts, the white sun hat.
It wouldn't do to catch the eye of a mage this powerful. A traitorous drop of sweat trailed down her neck and between her breasts.
"I'll ask again." Cynthia stabbed her shovel into the soil. "How can I trust you? Maybe after five or ten years, I'll change my mind."
The stranger laughed. He flared his magic outward and Cynthia shuddered. The soil vibrated. The weed died in her hand. The air rippled.
"When the time comes, you'll have a feeling who I am. You'll recognize my magic." He said confidently. He turned to leave.
"Wait," Cynthia bit her lip. "I shouldn't, I know, but a Greengrass always has to get ahead of the market. Any tips for the future?"
The stranger laughed. "Buy all the dragonhide you can. And your little one?"
Cynthia flinched. Daphne was back in the house, sleeping softly, finally. She wasn't an easy baby.
"What about her?"
"Read her the fairytales, the old picture book ones. The pureblood ones."
Cynthia frowned. "They're not my thing. Very…traditional. I'm a lady of an Ancient house, I know, but there's a line. I don't want my daughter reading about all these air-headed obedient Princesses."
"Just trust me." He looked back over his shoulder. "She's going to love them."
After he was gone, Cynthia stayed out in the sun, thinking back on the stranger. She couldn't do nothing, certainly. He was clearly powerful. He probably was who he said he was — a man out of time.
As the shade grew and the sun descended, Cynthia turned back to the house.
She had to tell Peter to invest in dragonhide. She had to find a way to remind herself to give her daughter that bag, a long time from now.
Cynthia sighed. "In for a knut, in for a galleon." She muttered. She'd take down those old fairy tales from the dusty attic too.
Even if they did depict women as vapid obedient airheads, she was willing to do anything as long as her darling daughter would stop crying. It wasn't like Daphne would remember them, right?