Harry departed Hogwarts after having a cozy breakfast with Narcissa within the confines of his room. His destination for the day had already been decided and he emerged from the Floo of the Leaky Cauldron.
The pub was buzzing with activity, which was surprising to him. He had never seen so many people at this time of the year and as he traversed through the small crowd to get to the entrance to Diagon Alley, he noticed it even more.
Three up, two across. That was all and he stepped into the alley. Witches and wizards of all ages bustled about and for a few seconds, Harry simply stood there, taking in the sight of the crowd.
Voldemort's reign of terror had truly devastated the wizarding population of Magical Britain and it was apparent to see the sheer contrast between the number of people he could see in front of him and those he was used to seeing in his previous timeline. Harry lamented the fate that had befallen these people once again and resolved to do everything in his power to ensure Voldemort never gained power over Britain.
He walked down the alley, taking in the numerous familiar shops and a few which he knew wouldn't exist in the future if things played out the same.
Gringotts looked as imposing as always, shining under the sunlight that made the white marble exterior glow brightly. He was amused with the goblins. Those little bastards made sure they made the witches and wizards uncomfortable by whatever means possible, even if it was something as innocuous as the design of their building.
He walked up the steps with his head held high, giving the goblin guards only a passing glance as they tried to glower at him. He made sure they saw his amused chuckle at the failed attempt to intimidate him. Yeah, those bastards didn't look too happy, not that he gave a fuck. After the stunt they had pulled back then with their lost dragon, he could no longer bother to care about their sensibilities. He knew what he was capable of and he had no hesitation in showing them a bit of it if they tried to act smart.
He spotted a few people and goblins alike giving him curious looks as he entered and he held back a smirk. He had gone with the perfect pureblood ponce look today – one so refined that even that bastard Malfoy would seethe with jealousy if he dared to look at him.
It had come as a huge surprise to him when he found it in the Room of Requirement – a formal set of dress robes that belonged to none other than Salazar Slytherin. It was quite possibly the highest quality of fabric he had ever laid eyes on, let alone wear. Even though he was slightly skeptical of wearing something that belonged to a man who had been dead for over a millennium, a few charms here and there had taken care of any remnants of the former sorcerer.
It had been Narcissa who had both spotted the insignia of Salazar around the collar and taken care of everything else, and the lovely blonde had been perfectly at home with it.
She had told him that he would catch the eye of everyone who looked at him properly, and so far, her prediction had been spot on. He had already been used to looks of interest from women and he took it all in stride, his lips quirking a bit when he saw the men with those witches who didn't look too happy that he had their women's attention.
'Tough luck, folks,' he thought in amusement. It made him feel a bit like Lockhart but he could honestly not fault the man in this case.
He made a beeline toward one of the empty counters, aware of the numerous eyes on him, and stared the goblin right in the middle of his forehead.
"How can Gringotts help you, wizard?"
Harry smirked.
"You can help me by bringing over my family ring, for starters," Harry called out in a measured voice, maintaining his confident persona.
"Is that so?" The goblin drawled out, staring at him keenly. Harry met his gaze evenly.
"I don't like to repeat myself, teller. And I'm sure you'd rather be counting gold than chatting with a wizard like me. So? Would you get on with it already?"
There was a visible sneer on the goblin's face as it stared at him and Harry could not care less.
"You are indeed correct, wizard," the creature acknowledged. "Time is money, and I would hate you to waste mine. State the name of the house you are claiming lordship of."
"House Peverell," Harry stated in a clear voice.
One could hear a pin drop once Harry was done. Goblins and wizarding folk alike stared at him in abject shock, repeating his words in their minds, and trying to come to terms with the fact that he had indeed said what he had said. For his part, Harry simply stood in silence and stared back at the incredulous goblin with an even gaze.
"House… Peverell," the goblin rasped, as if trying the name of the legendary wizarding house whose origins and exploits together had been shrouded in mystery for millennia. There had been no lord of the house for centuries and no one knew where the family had vanished. There were tales told of the Peverells – how they were the harbingers of death, the disciples of the deity of Death herself, and how they had descended upon the mortal plane to carry out the deity's righteous judgment, disappearing once their duty was carried out.
"You seem to be too interested in repeating my words and wasting my time, goblin," Harry said with slight disdain. "It makes me feel the ancestors of ancient houses made a grave error in placing their faith in your kind's abilities to safeguard their treasures, including their gold and artifacts."
The goblins acted as one, their nostrils flaring and their hands clenching over their tools at the blatant slight to their kind's honor.
"Have care how you speak, wizard!" The goblin teller snarled.
"Stop wasting my time and I might," Harry retorted calmly. "Right now, you sound nothing more than a pompous prick who's let his pride get to his head. I have half a mind to drag you to Ragnok and make him bend you over his knee."
The goblin gritted his teeth in anger, glaring at him as he did so. Harry watched the creature reach under his desk and wave his hand around, undoubtedly casting some goblin magic to procure the ring. Barely a minute later, the goblin pulled his hand out from under the table and placed a plain-looking box of ring on the desk in front of him.
Almost the entirety of Gringotts was watching their exchange with bated breaths, all eager to see the young man who was claiming to be the heir to the House of Peverell truly claim the lord's ring. A lot of the wizarding folk were shocked to discover that the house truly did exist, as proven by the existence of the ring.
They watched how he reached forward and grabbed the box. They witnessed him opening it. A few of them even had to strain to look over the others' shoulders, but they did succeed, watching him pull out a shining platinum ring with a black gemstone adorning it.
Harry remained oblivious to the stares, or rather, he ignored everything. His eyes remained fixed on the black gemstone that oddly resembled the Resurrection Stone. The symbol of the Deathly Hallows was etched on the surface, glowing as it reflected off the light from the lamps. Gingerly, he pushed his ring finger through and settled the lord's ring on his person.
The people were expecting some kind of reaction, and it seemed so were the goblins. Although in the latter's case, there was also a hint of hope that the ring might reject him and he'd fall over, perishing on the spot. Harry stifled a smirk at the slightly disappointed look he discovered on the goblin teller's face, uncaring of the crowd's overall disappointment that there was no bright light or a flashy reaction of any kind after he put on the ring.
Nonchalantly, Harry closed the box and put it back on the desk.
"Make sure you keep guarding that box as you've done over the years," Harry stared the goblin down who was gazing back with an ashen face.
Without bothering with anything else, he turned on his heels and made his way toward the exit, fully aware of the scores of eyes that followed him on his way out.
-Break-
While word of him claiming the Peverell lordship was spread around amongst the masses, Harry walked down the stairs of the Gringotts bank ignoring the glares he got from the goblins. He wanted to scoff again. Here he was, doing them a favor by activating a dormant vault, and they had their noses upturned all because he treated one of the kind as befitting his station.
Harry was no bigot, but he could not bring himself to respect a goblin after that debacle with the Ironbelly.
He entered the Leaky Cauldron and took a seat for a little bite. Tom looked much better than he did in his past, and a whole lot busier as well. While he waited for the man to arrive to take his order, he wondered how to go about taking care of Narcissa's little problem. Offing Lucius would not be tough, but doing it in a way that would not implicate him was something he would need to think about. Coupled with the fact that there was Bellatrix to consider as well and Harry found himself thinking if he could kill two assholes with one plan. It would save him a ton of effort too. After all, the less he had to see of them, the more preferable it would be.
'Something to think about later, I suppose,' Harry thought to himself, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of the man who emerged from the floo. He quickly schooled his expression into a neutral one when the man began looking around before he happened to glance in his general direction.
Not seeing the need to play coy, he gave the man a respectful nod.
"Lord Potter," he greeted courteously.
"Harry Potter, or I suppose it is Lord Peverell now," Fleamont Potter nodded and held his hand out. Harry shook it firmly, his eyes never leaving the man's face.
"I suppose you'd prefer to take this somewhere private?"
"You suppose correctly," Fleamont replied. "Come. I believe my wife would like to meet you as well."
Harry nodded. Although he did not need to oblige the man's wishes, he truly did want to meet more of his family, even though these people technically were not. It was another timeline, and thus, another universe altogether, after all, and his people were long dead.
He followed the man over to the floo and joined him inside the fireplace. The man took hold of his shoulder and with a firm call of "Potter Manor!", they vanished in a swirl of emerald flames.
Harry was very grateful to Narcissa who had taught him how to use the floo properly, and he managed to exit through the fireplace successfully. Brushing off the soot with a quick wave of his hand – a feat of magic that unbeknownst to him, Fleamont did not miss – he took a good look around.
Potter Manor was quite simply beautiful. There were no lavish decorations beyond the carpets and a few tapestries. Instead, it had a homely feeling to it. The display of wealth was subtle, nowhere pretentious like the Malfoys, and Harry let out an involuntary smile.
"This way."
Harry nodded and followed the man who led him through the foyer and into the living room where a woman who looked to be in her fifties sat with none other than James Potter and Sirius Black. The two young men stared at him with a look that Harry deciphered as 'We knew it was coming' while the woman seemed perfectly composed, her poise befitting the proud matriarch of a pureblood household.
"Lord Peverell, meet my wife and the lady of House Potter, Euphemia Potter, my son and heir James, and our nephew and the heir to the House of Black, Sirius."
Harry stifled a chuckle at the look of distaste that crossed Sirius' face at the mention of his heirship.
"A pleasure, my lady," Harry greeted her with a customary kiss to the back of her knuckles. "And I believe we've met already, Heir Potter, Heir Black."
"You can drop the act, Harry," Sirius quipped instantly, earning a sigh from Euphemia.
"Yeah. We're buds, Mum, Dad. I told you already," James interjected with a grin.
"That you did," Fleamont replied. "Have a seat, Lord Peverell."
"Please, Lord Potter. You may call me by my name," Harry replied as he sat down. "You too, my lady."
"Likewise then," Fleamont nodded. "Now, James and Sirius here did tell me about the new Potter they met at Hogwarts, not that they needed to, considering what we already read in the Prophet. Dumbledore's new apprentice. You surely didn't waste time in making waves."
"And you took it even a step further when you claimed the lordship of the Peverells today," Euphemia continued where her husband left off, prompting Harry to look over at her. "I am not saying it as if it's a bad thing. It's just… you don't see so many quick developments in pureblood circles, and big ones at that."
Harry let out an amused chuckle.
"I get what you mean," he replied. "To be honest with you, I didn't anticipate it'd be such a big deal to be Dumbledore's apprentice, or that the media coverage would be so extreme that I'd find myself recognized wherever I went. This lordship thing though… that was purely intentional."
"You don't say," Euphemia replied drily, looking him over. His attire was a statement in itself.
"Totally necessary too, considering the things developing behind the scenes, if you catch my drift."
Fleamont and Euphemia exchanged a meaningful look with each other while Harry watched them, knowing they must know the game that was afoot. No one involved in pureblood politics would be unaware of Voldemort's existence and the strings he was pulling with certain purebloods.
"Is this about this dark lord those filthy snakes keep threatening others with?" James asked before anyone else, innocently holding his arms up when they turned toward him. "Which I know nothing about."
Fleamont and Euphemia merely sighed. The man turned toward Harry and asked, "And you took up the lordship because you intend to fight against this lot? Interested in making a few allies, are you?"
"I'm not the Potter heir, but my branch of the family did come directly from the Peverells," Harry replied, holding up his arm and displaying the family ring on his finger. Fleamont nodded.
"Trust me, I know you are a Potter and a Peverell. That ring wouldn't have accepted you, and nor would the wards around this manor," he replied. "You do have the blood of our family, and I am certain you are not too away from the main line either. Your looks and your connection to the wards is almost as close as mine and James'."
"I'm not your long lost son or something, I promise," Harry chuckled.
"We know," Euphemia replied with an eyeroll. "But that still raises the question about your parents."
"I'd have loved to tell you more, but my parents died when I was an infant. All I know about them is their names and a little bit about what kind of people they were, mostly from others."
"We're sorry to hear that," Fleamont said comfortingly.
"It's okay," Harry waved him off. "You are family, no matter how distant or close, and I'd like to get to know you all more."
"I'm sure everyone here will like to know you better as well," Fleamont smiled.
"Harry… I'm sorry for bringing up any painful memories," Euphemia interjected. "What truly matters is that you are a Potter and as such, you are family. Also, now, you are the Lord Peverell, and as such, you are of an equal standing to all those geezers in the Wizengamot. You can already expect a whole host of leeches to try to stick to your rear, dear."
"Joy," Harry responded drily, earning a snort from both James and Sirius. He looked over toward them and winked.
He was slowly getting where James got his temperament from. While Fleamont Potter seemed to be a fairly level-headed speaker, Euphemia was more outspoken, and he could easily imagine her cussing out loud or making a crude remark about someone who she felt deserved it.
Truth be told, he somehow did not feel familial when he looked at them. It was more like a cordial acceptance, and to some extent it did not surprise him. His experience of a family had never been a conventional one and to have those feelings for people entirely unknown to him would have been surprising.
However, he was surprised to notice that it applied to Lily, James, and Sirius as well. He had expected to feel more of a connection with all of them, but apart from Lily, he did not. Even then, she was better left out of his mind for now. He did not think he was ready to accept whatever it was that he felt when he thought about her, for those thoughts were anything but familial.
He was also slightly mollified to notice that unlike the women he had been encountering lately, Euphemia did not respond in a manner that clued him in to any hidden intentions. She was behaving like a usual pureblood matriarch, albeit one without many reservations, as evident in the way she had been talking to him. He could easily attribute it to her considering him a part of her extended family, and as such, assuming the role of an aunt, which she had his consent to be if she truly wanted to. Just because he did not consider them as close of a family as he would have thought did not mean they were not related altogether.
"We would like to discuss this more, if you have the time, Harry," Fleamont began, garnering his attention once again. "I know what a grave issue this could become if left unchecked, and I'm sure there are a few likeminded individuals we can arrange to meet to further discuss it. You know what I'm saying?"
Harry nodded. He understood perfectly.
The Potters were one of the most respected pureblood families and he was family. Presenting a united front in public when they met any prospective allies was the best. It also helped that they shared a marriage alliance with the Blacks courtesy of Charlus and Dorea Potter.
"Forgive me if I sound a bit overreaching here," Harry probed cautiously, gazing at Fleamont and Euphemia who both shook their heads and gestured for him to continue. "The Potters are allied to the Blacks as well, right?"
He frowned when the couple exchanged a sigh.
"You are talking about Charlus and Dorea," Euphemia replied, earning a nod from Harry. "It's a bit of a sore topic for our family considering what happened, and it's understandable as well that you don't know about it given only the Potters and the Blacks are aware of it."
Harry noticed the frowns on everyone's faces, including James' and Sirius', which surprised him slightly. He had only heard about the marriage alliance in passing and was not privy to any intimate details but it seemed it was something serious.
"Charlus and Dorea left Britain a few years ago," Fleamont sighed.
"Left as in?" Harry asked.
"For good," Euphemia replied with a small grimace. "They believed the country was doomed and they would find a much better life elsewhere. We do maintain contact but it's not much considering they are frequently on the move."
"Last we heard, and it was about six months ago, they were in Magical Japan," Fleamont continued.
"I… see," Harry muttered. He truly did not understand what was so concerning about it. They were free to do whatever they wished as long as they kept their loved ones abreast of what they were up to. Although prolonged silences like six months or so did concern him slightly. It felt to him as if they were too absorbed in their own lives to contact their families back home.
"You must be confused, I reckon," Sirius interjected with a weak grin. "Well, the Blacks blame the Potters for taking their dear daughter away from them. Some nerve they have, when you see how they treat their daughters like pieces of cattle to be sold and discarded when they're of no use."
"Sirius," Euphemia sighed.
"He ain't wrong, Mum," James replied. "Remember what Padfoot's hag of a mother said? Oh right! 'Your wild brother's brashness has poisoned Dorea. That's why she's run off on this fool's errand and cut off all contact with her dear family.' Ha! As if! She cut off ties after seeing how pathetic they were, treating their daughters like that. Betrothing them to those lowlives!"
Harry remained silent and simply absorbed everything. He had already gotten a clear picture of what was the game here.
The Blacks blamed the Potters for Dorea cutting ties with them and leaving Britain, which meant relations between the two families were fractured. It must've worsened further after Sirius left his family and came to live with the Potters. Having your heir turn his back on your family and find home with another pureblood household, and one which you were on bad terms with, was bound to sting, and if he knew anything about that Blacks, it was that most of them were scummy and known to hold a grudge.
It seemed there was no hope to gain support from their side. The best he could do regarding them was to save Narcissa and Bellatrix from the woeful fate that awaited them should he do nothing.
And there was no chance he would be letting them rot away. Narcissa was his, and he would make sure she became his in every sense of the word. Meanwhile, Bellatrix was dangerous, but if Narcissa was to be believed, and believe her he did, then she was a perfectly sane woman, which meant he could not let her fall into Tom's clutches lest she become his most capable lieutenant once again.
Fleamont sighed and turned back toward Harry.
"You can already guess, but we're not on the best of terms. There's no need to worry though. We have more than enough good people in the Wizengamot and outside who would be eager to help. No one has forgotten Grindelwald's terror and the last thing they want is a repeat."
Harry nodded absently. He truly wanted to believe the man but he had a feeling that Fleamont was being too optimistic. Unlike Grindelwald, Voldemort was using the notion of blood superiority as his tool and portraying himself as the savior of purebloods. He could not help but think that a lot of purebloods would abstain from choosing sides, staying content in remaining on the sidelines and letting the events play out.
After all, as purebloods, they would believe they had nothing to fear from either side. The good guys won't instigate fights, and the bad guys were championing pureblood rights. What did they have to worry about?
-Break-
Harry took his leave a few hours later following a cozy lunch with the Potters and Sirius. Euphemia coaxed out a promise from him to not be a stranger. Harry could not find it in himself to deny the woman. James and Sirius also did not fail to remind him of his promise back when they had met in Hogwarts for the first time. Harry had shaken his head with a chuckle at the reminder but he acquiesced. The better prepared they were, the higher their chances of survival were in the upcoming conflict.
Meanwhile, Fleamont had promised him that he would contact him soon, and reminded him to attend the upcoming Wizengamot meeting to claim his seat so that they could start making their opening moves.
It was four o'clock when he finally emerged from the fireplace of The Three Broomsticks. He stepped out and as soon as he turned around toward the bar, he had to quickly brace himself as a figure collided with him.
With reflexes honed from years of Quidditch and combat practice, he quickly reacted. His arm reached forward and wrapped around the woman's waist as he steadied her against himself, preventing her fall.
Surprised hazel orbs locked with emeralds as Harry gazed at the beautiful visage of who he knew to be future Katie's mum. She was staring at him owlishly and as she blinked, Harry slowly straightened them.
"You okay?" He asked, as she steadied herself on her feet.
"Uh… yeah," she replied, a blush adorning her cheeks as she recognized him. "T-thanks for the save. I owe you one."
"Don't worry about it," Harry waved her off with a smile. "Is Rose here?"
He looked around the almost empty bar with slight surprise. Normally, it would be teeming with patrons at this time of the day but right now, he could not see anyone apart from a few old people who he knew by now to be the usual local customers.
"She's away on some family business," the brunette informed him as she walked forward, leaving him no choice but to follow. He unabashedly took a few peeks at her perky rear. The pair of jeans she was wearing did a brilliant job of showcasing her assets, and she had a pair to be very proud of.
'Katie had to get it from somewhere, I suppose,' he thought with a chuckle.
"Hmm? What is it?" She asked, glancing over her shoulders at him. Harry shook his head and joined her at the bar counter. The old men looked over toward them for a moment before they looked away, resuming their chat.
"Nothing," he shook his head. "Just recalled a joke."
She nodded and walked over to take her place behind the counter.
"Tell me… uh…"
"Elizabeth."
"Right. Tell me, Elizabeth, why's the pub so empty? This is rush time," he asked, taking a seat on the barstool.
The brunette sighed and Harry could see she looked distinctly uncomfortable. Finally, she bit her lip and started, "It's like this whenever Rosie leaves. You do know she's the one the crowd is usually for, right?"
Harry nodded in understanding, already knowing it was Rose's buxom self that attracted patrons to the bar on usual days.
"Well," Elizabeth cleared her throat. "The crowd came as usual and went back after seeing only me here. It goes without saying that I can't replicate her charm, innit?"
She trailed off with a chuckle.
Harry frowned at her self-depreciating tone. Elizabeth sure was dressed modestly in her jeans and jumper but she was in no way less pretty than any other witch – a fact Harry did not hesitate in admitting to her face. Her response was to simply stare at him in surprise with a little cute blush adorning her cheeks which Harry found oddly attractive.
"Thank you, but you don't need to say that. I know where I stand when it comes to turning heads. After all, this lack of crowd should be enough proof," she looked around.
"Look," Harry sighed. "You might not be flaunting it but believe me when I say that you are a very beautiful woman who shouldn't be worrying about sheep like those. I'm sure you'll find someone who'll show you just how beautiful you are. So what if you're a bit conservative and don't like to flaunt your assets? None of that matters, and you shouldn't let it get to you either."
Elizabeth smiled a more genuine smile this time.
"I can see why she speaks so highly of you now," she remarked, leaning on the bar counter with her elbows resting on the wooden surface. Harry did not fail to notice how her lovely tits were pushed together between her arms as she stared at him with a smile. "No wonder she snagged you for herself as soon as she could."
"Come again?" Harry pulled his eyes off the outline of her tits, not knowing whether she had noticed his stare or not. If she had, she did not mention it.
"Hmm?" She tilted her head quizzically. "You're dating her, aren't you?"
"Not at all," he shook his head.
"But I've seen you and her…"
"Ah," he said with a nod. "No. We're not dating or anything. We're just… you know…"
"Fuck buddies?" She quipped with a teasing grin.
"Uh… yeah," he finished lamely.
"Don't worry," she patted his hand. "As long as you two agree, who am I to judge?"
With ice broken between them, they got to talking. Drinks began flowing as they talked about what they did, what their ambitions were, and several things in between. Elizabeth, or Lizzie as she asked him to call her, seemed very interested in hearing about his various exploits. Although initially reluctant, Harry slowly let himself immerse into the chat, particularly when she also began to narrate a few exploits of her own in the famous broom closets of Hogwarts. Although nowhere as raunchy as his, she did have a few heated snogging sessions with her ex-boyfriend.
It did not take him long to discover that this woman was a closet deviant. It started with lingering glances at various spots on his body before transforming into more overt reactions like her biting her lip softly or occasionally touching him as he told her about his exploits with Gwen and Rose. He firmly refrained from even mentioning Cissa.
As she had expressed already, she did not judge but instead listened attentively as if he were a Hogwarts professor and she was studying for her NEWTs once again.
"Oh wow," she whispered as he finished telling her about the time in the shower he had spent with both Rose and Gwen at the same time. "I can't believe you really got inside Gwenog Jones' panties."
The way she said the woman's name made him feel as if she revered her a lot.
"Well, obviously!" She gushed when he asked her about it. "She was the best chaser at Hogwarts. I looked up to her a lot. Shame I had no talent on the broom, or I would've liked to be on the team as a chaser as well. I'm sure she'd smash for the Harpies."
"Is that so?" He asked in amusement. "Well, I'm sure your child would become a world-class chaser."
"You're a seer as well, huh?" She asked with a smirk as she leaned forward, and this time there was no way she could've missed his glance toward her tits as they pushed against the fabric of her jumper. She still said nothing but she did smirk widely, and his slightly intoxicated mind found the expression unbelievably sexy on her face.
"Just a hunch," he replied instead, gulping down his entire drink in one go.
The sun had set outside and the old men who had been sitting near the window had also left, which meant he was the only one remaining in the pub with Lizzie.
Suddenly, Harry was assaulted with the memory of a similar setting he had found himself in not too long ago. The only difference was that instead of Rose, it was Lizzie he found himself keeping company. The lecherous part of his mind could not help but wonder if this evening would also unfold similarly. It did not help that he was slightly intoxicated, and they had been talking about their sexual exploits for Merlin knew how long.
It also did not help that their little interaction had crossed the line of platonic flirting a long time ago.
Harry started at her and found the same desire reflected in her hazel orbs that he was sure his were filled with, and with a degree of confidence he had in spades, he stepped off the barstool. Keeping his eyes locked with hers, he slowly walked around the bar counter until he was behind it.
As he stepped toward her, she stepped back. Another step forward was followed by a backstep from her. The hunter stalked his prey until the prey found herself with her back pressed against the wall, staring up breathlessly at her hunter who was staring her down with intensity.
"So how long have you been planning this?" He asked in a gruff tone, his eyes boring into hers.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," she replied in a breathless whisper.
"Is that so?" He asked with a slight quirk of his lips, his smirk widening when her eyes shut as he gently caressed her sides with his hands.
Without wasting a moment, he grabbed her by the waist and pressed himself firmly against her, trapping her lithe body between his muscular frame and the wall.
She gasped and opened her eyes, staring back at him hornily as she felt his bulge against her front.
"You feel that?"
She nodded.
"You did that. Still feel you're not sexy?"
She nodded. "A bit."
"Well then," he smirked. "I better do something to clear off that doubt for good."
Lizzie gave him a sexy smirk filled with anticipation as she fisted the front of his shirt, and without any further ado, Harry leaned down and slammed his lips against hers.
TBC.
Check out patreon.com/TheBlackEarl for early access and more of my work. Chapter 13 is already posted over there.