The Three Broomsticks was filled with warmth and lively conversation. Lanterns cast a soft, golden glow over the wooden beams, reflecting off the polished surfaces. The scent of butterbeer, roasted meat, and spiced cider lingered in the air, mixing with the occasional gust of cold from the door as patrons entered and exited.
As Harry stepped inside, a rush of warmth greeted him. He brushed a few stray snowflakes from his shoulders and took a moment to scan the room. It was busy, as it often was on weekends, with students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, villagers, and travelers seeking refuge from the bitter cold. His gaze landed on the bar, where Rosie was already watching him with a knowing smile.
"Well, well, if it isn't the esteemed Hogwarts Champion, and the frontrunner to boot," she said smoothly, moving around the counter with practiced ease. "Come to grace me with your presence, have you?"
Harry smirked, stepping forward. "Couldn't stay away. A warm butterbeer sounded far better than another hour in the library."
Rosmerta chuckled as she reached for a clean mug, pouring the frothy drink with a practiced hand. "And here I thought you were here for some fun little time, Harry. Another favor, perhaps? Or simply a desire to recall how it felt? Let me tell you, the door, and the bed's always there for you."
He took the drink from her with a smirk, eyeing her keenly. As always, her generous bust was well on display, and feeling his eyes on her, she leaned forward on the counter, giving him a tantalizing view down her cleavage. "Well, I can't say I'm not enticed now. Sadly, work comes first."
She remained leaned against the counter, watching him closely. "Always work. You should learn to take a break sometimes, you know… I must say though, that last challenge was impressive, even though we couldn't really watch what happened underwater. I'm sure you must've handled the creatures rather easily. Pesky Grindylows and those Merpeople. Little else to boast of, that lake I mean."
Harry took a sip of his butterbeer, feeling its warmth spread through him as he smiled thinly. "Little else, yeah. You got that right, at least. It wasn't easy, being underwater and all. Spells going awry, not fast enough. It was complicated, but I had a good reason to push through."
Rosmerta tilted her head slightly, smirking. "Ah, yes. The famous rescue. And, of course, that moment with the French girl…"
Harry raised an eyebrow, but she only smiled knowingly. "You do know half the witches in Britain are still talking about it, don't you? Wondering what secrets were exchanged beneath the waves? No one could see what happened in there, after all."
Harry smirked, the memory of fucking Fleur underwater still fresh in his mind. "Only half? I thought it would have been more."
She laughed, making a few nearby patrons glance their way. "Oh, you made quite the impression. But it's not just the tournament that has people talking."
She reached out, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from his cloak. Her fingers lingered a moment longer than necessary, and Harry caught a hint of her familiar scent—warm vanilla and honey. It brought the memories of the time they had spent together to the forefront of his mind.
"I didn't imagine you'd be like this, you know," she murmured, her tone insinuating and her eyes full of lust. "You're not the boy who does what people expect of him. Who first walked into this pub all those years ago. Watching you grow into the man you are now… Merlin, I'm glad you turned out this way."
"Oh? Glad to hear you approve," Harry smirked.
"More than approve," she replied. "But you're not here for more fun for both of us, are you?"
Harry sighed, pretending to be disappointed. "Sadly, no. Duty calls."
Rosmerta chuckled, shaking her head. "Of course it does. Your guest is already upstairs, waiting in the private booth."
He drained the last of his butterbeer, setting the empty mug down. "I suppose I shouldn't keep them waiting."
She gave him a teasing glance. "No, you shouldn't. But don't keep me waiting too long either, hmm? Some memories are best revisited sooner rather than later."
Harry smirked, giving her one last meaningful look before turning toward the stairs. "I'll keep that in mind."
At the top of the stairs, he glanced back toward the bar, catching the faintest flicker of amusement in Rosmerta's expression before she turned away to tend to another patron. He smirked to himself. Perhaps, when everything was done, he'd return for another drink—and maybe something more.
For now, he had another game to play.
Pushing open the door to the private booth, he found Rita Skeeter already seated at the table, her quill poised in her perfectly manicured fingers.
For a second, Harry stood still, taking her in. Had something changed? Why was she dressed like she was… trying to seduce him? Her dress was a size shorter for her, making her admittedly large bust strain against the fabric and reaching to her mid-thigh, exposing her long legs encased in translucent nylons. Her hair was also different, no longer the ghastly curls but straightened and reaching just past her shoulders. The glasses were also gone, and the shade of lipstick was darker than usual. Her make-up was also not overdone, which was a visual relief, but he did not expect it to look… appealing.
Harry hated to admit it, but she did look fuckable right now. He pushed the horrid thought out of his mind though. There was no way he was going to think about this abhorrent woman in such an intimate manner, no matter how hot she looked.
The moment she saw him, her eyes widened ever so slightly before she caught herself, schooling her face back into careful neutrality. To her dismay though, Harry caught it—the flicker of surprise, the way her gaze lingered on him just a heartbeat too long. Harry once again forced himself to think about something else.
Had she seen him with Rosie, even though nothing untoward had happened between them? He wouldn't put it past her to already be crafting some scandalous headline in that scheming mind of hers. Too bad she could no longer act on it, though.
"Potter," she greeted, her tone clipped and professional. Still, he noticed the way her fingers clenched just a bit tighter around her quill. She was nervous around him. Good. She was smart to be. "Right on time. Punctuality is a virtue, even for… celebrities."
It seemed she couldn't help herself from coming out with a barb. It amused more than offended Harry, who shut the door behind him with perfect ease and strolled forward, taking his time before sliding into the seat across from her. He stretched out just enough to exude comfort, amusement dancing in his gaze as he studied her reaction.
"Rita," he said smoothly. "I have to say, your last article was quite the departure from your usual… creative nonfiction. Very factual. No embellishments, no dramatic interpretations. Almost as if you were… restrained."
A tiny muscle in her jaw twitched, undoubtedly reminded of the vow that now governed her actions, but she refrained from an outburst and simply held his gaze. "I—well, I do pride myself on accuracy when the situation demands it. Certain… factors… influenced my approach."
Harry smirked, the glint in his eyes turning sharp. "Of course they did." He knew exactly which 'factors' she meant. He and Fleur had made sure of that, after all.
Rita shifted slightly, adjusting her posture as if to regain control of the conversation, which she unfortunately could not, no matter how much she wanted. The movement did seem exaggerated though, making certain desirable parts of her body move in ways that could never be accidental. "I assume you're not here to critique my journalistic methods? Though I'm sure you have plenty of opinions on the subject."
"Oh, I do," Harry mused, his fingers lazily tapping against the table. "Your ethics—or lack thereof—have been quite the source of entertainment, even though they always come at the expense of others. Good job also on that apology article you put out for Hagrid, too. I'm sure he appreciated it."
Rita's jaw clenched, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly, and it further added to his amusement. Leaning back in his chair, he regarded her. "But no, that's not why I'm here." He leaned forward just a fraction, just enough to make her straighten slightly. "I'm a firm believer in the power of stories, Rita. And in the importance of… controlling the narrative."
She narrowed her eyes slightly, sensing where this was going. He wanted her to write an article according to his wishes. About what? She did not know, but she was sure she would soon find out.
Harry let the silence stretch just long enough for the tension to settle before he reached into his robe, pulling out a small pouch. Keeping eye contact with her, he placed it on the table and slid it toward her. The unmistakable clink of gold Galleons filled the air.
Rita's eyebrows lifted in intrigue, the glint of greed returning to her gaze. "And what, pray tell, is this… offering?"
"A mutually beneficial business venture," Harry said smoothly, watching her carefully. "I don't know if you've heard already, but I used something in the second task to help me breathe and move underwater. It's a lozenge developed by the Weasley twins based mainly on the properties of Gillyweed. I believe it's a remarkably effective product with considerable market potential. And since I know how much you appreciate a good story—and a profitable one—you're going to be running the advertising campaign."
Rita hesitated. Harry could see the gears turning in her head, weighing risk against reward. She knew that working with him—especially on his terms—meant playing by his rules. And yet, the lure of gold, of influence, of a future angle to exploit, was too tempting to ignore.
Harry was very deliberate with how he was approaching his dynamic with Skeeter. He had her at his mercy, and he knew all he needed was one command and she would be forced to oblige. However, there was a different level of commitment he could extract from the woman if instead of forcing her, he met her in the middle and allowed her to work as usual.
Her fingers twitched before she finally, calculatingly, pocketed the pouch. When she looked back at him, her gaze had sharpened, the familiar hunger for control, for power, glinting behind her eyes. And that was it. Meeting her in the middle, allowing her to work as usual, and making her believe she had some power when truly, she had none. It was fun.
"You know, Potter," she mused, her voice sliding back into its usual, cutting rhythm, "for someone who claims to despise media intrusion, you certainly have a knack for manipulating the press to your advantage."
Harry leaned back, entirely at ease. "I believe in strategic communication," he said lightly. "And in ensuring that certain… truths… are presented in the most compelling manner possible. I assume that won't be a problem?"
Her smile was thin, almost amused. "Not at all. I am a professional, after all."
"Good." He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping just enough to make her focus. "Shall we begin, then? I have a very specific image I want to project."
Skeeter adjusted her glasses, her sharp gaze flicking between Harry and the quill poised above her notebook. Harry could feel her anticipation that was practically radiating from her, the hunger for a story that she sensed would have a profound impact on the wizarding economy evident in the way her fingers twitched against the parchment. Still, she wasn't fool enough to overstep. Not here. Not with him.
The interview progressed with perfect efficiency. Harry dictated the key points he wanted covered, keeping his tone measured and his words as precise as possible. He emphasized the safety and effectiveness of the Weasley twins' lozenges, crafting a narrative that framed them as an innovative and essential aid for underwater excursions.
"…Designed for both professional divers and everyday adventurers," he said smoothly, watching as her quill scribbled away, recording every word exactly as he'd spoken it. "Completely legal. Endorsed by Hogwarts' Triwizard Champion himself."
Skeeter barely lifted her gaze from her notes. "And, naturally, no adverse effects?"
Harry smiled, all charm, all confidence. "None worth mentioning."
She hummed in response but didn't press. Of course, he knew the lozenges had a few… quirks, all of the good kind. There was no aftertaste, no horrible sensation of feeling a slug go down your throat, and no webbings or gills forming on one's skin. Those details were relevant, but he abstained. This wasn't about full disclosure. This was about selling a product. To make the industry familiarize with an alternative that was being endorsed by him, keeping a bit of suspense to make the public curious, and to allow them to find all the boons on their own.
Word of mouth went a long way in advertising a product.
Still, to keep the article more engaging, he offered a few carefully controlled "exclusives" about his experiences in the Tournament—just enough to feed the readers' curiosity without giving them anything truly valuable or distracting them from the true matter at hand.
"Facing the dragon was an experience I won't soon forget," he said, allowing the faintest smirk to touch his lips, as if recalling a particularly thrilling moment. "But the lake? That was a different kind of challenge. People underestimate how quickly the cold sets in, how disorienting it is beneath the surface. Even with preparation, it's… intense. Lucky that I had the lozenge with me, all thanks to this new business venture of mine and the Weasley twins."
She nodded along, drinking in every word. It was enough. He was giving her just enough.
Not once did she interrupt to twist his statements, to inject her usual venom. She knew better. She understood the rules of this particular game. He wasn't some hapless student caught off guard by a sudden ambush of questions. He wasn't a defenseless target for her sensationalism.
And, having no other choice, she was playing along.
As they neared the end of their discussion, Skeeter tapped her quill against her chin, a thoughtful glint in her eyes. "You've certainly learned the art of the interview, Potter. Careful word choice. Strategic omissions. You'd make a fine politician."
Harry chuckled, standing from his seat. "I prefer to think of it as ensuring accuracy. You do understand the importance of accuracy, don't you, Rita?"
His warning was not lost on her, and she smiled thinly, her fingers drumming against her notebook. "Oh, of course. Accuracy is paramount."
He met her gaze, letting the silence stretch between them, just long enough to make his point clear. "Good. Because I'd hate for there to be any… misunderstandings."
A flicker of something—annoyance, resignation, intrigue—passed behind her eyes. But she nodded. "You have my word, Potter. I understand the… parameters."
"I know you do."
With that, he turned and strode toward the door, not bothering to glance back. He didn't need to. He could already picture her sitting there, staring at her notes, calculating her next move. He might have silenced her, ensuring her compliance, but he was not deluded enough to think she was his ally. She was a conniving little woman who was simply biding her time, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. This little attempt at dressing up must have been her attempt to distract him from what he wanted from her. He was not gullible enough to not recognize the game she was playing.
Sadly for her, he was not the least bit interested in her.
Descending the wooden staircase, Harry exhaled, rolling the tension from his shoulders. The moment he reached the bottom, the warmth of the tavern wrapped around him once more, the scent of spiced cider and butterbeer filling the air.
His gaze drifted toward the bar almost instinctively, and there she was.
Rosie stood polishing glasses, her movements fluid and practiced, the golden glow of the lanterns reflecting off the smooth curve of the glass in her hand. She caught his eye without missing a beat, her lips curling into one of those knowing smiles.
It felt like an invitation, and a silent request. To warm her bed once again, and to give her what she craved, what no other man apart from him could give her. He could feel her gaze roaming all over his body and he slowed his stride, just for a second, allowing the moment to settle.
Shortly, with a smirk of his own, he gave her a small nod before stepping toward the door.
He didn't need to linger, not today. He had other commitments to honor, friends to help, and a lover to satisfy.
There would be other nights.
And the next time he found himself alone with the buxom barmaid of the Three Broomsticks… well… He was looking forward to finding out exactly what she'd have in store for him.
-Break-
Harry stepped back abruptly as the tent's entrance shifted, his brows furrowing as he spotted her.
"Susan? What are you—"
She did not let him finish. Before he could get another word out, she stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him. It was a gentle kiss, but it was more than a brush of their lips.
"You've got a bit more time until you're needed out there, and I believe you deserve a proper good luck wish," she whispered and smashed their lips once again, eager to feel his mouth against hers.
She moaned when he reacted, his enthusiasm matching hers. Not wasting a moment, he turned them around and firmly pressed her against the wall. She did not even realize when the tent's wall became hard as he kissed her back firmly. One of his hands came up to wrap around her neck, the other trailed down the side of her buxom body. She let out a mewl when she felt him caress her side-boob but he did not linger, slowly descending to rest on her hip. He grabbed her firmly and pulled her flush against himself.
They both moaned into the kiss, and Susan, feeling bolder than she ever had, took the plunge and licked his lips. Harry eagerly parted his lips, allowing her the entrance she asked for, their tongues wrapping around each other as they kissed fiercely.
His tongue was perfect, matching hers in a way that made her feel they were made for each other, and she pushed further, her grip tightening around his neck.
They kept kissing for none knew how long before Harry slowly pulled back. Breathlessly, they both stared at each other. Susan feared that he would stop, that he would tell her to go away, but he surprised her by grabbing her firmly by the neck and furiously slamming his lips against hers once again. He pushed her firmly against the wall and began to truly worship her, peppering her with kisses all over.
He indulged her lust, his lips locking onto her sensitive skin right above her collarbone, and he nipped and nibbled away, drawing approving sighs and moans from her. He slowly drifted downward, his lips clamping right over her collarbone, and Susan hissed hotly, her fists clenching on his dark locks. All he did was kiss and nibble on her skin, stimulating her after finding her sensitive spots.
If she thought that was the extent of it then she was sorely mistaken. His lips continued their ministrations, and his hands did not remain idle for long. While one hand had been holding her firmly by the neck while the other kept her pinned against the wall by grabbing onto her waist, he moved them both simultaneously, pushing them under her shirt.
Susan let out a loud hiss when he grabbed hold of both her tits right over her flimsy lace bra and gave them a firm squeeze. It was impossible for his hands to cover the entirety of her massive mounds, and he did the best he could as he kept mauling them, all the while kissing all over her neck and pulse point.
Susan felt her nipples hardening and she knew he could feel them poking right through the thin fabric of her bra. He did not let up in the slightest, and kept massaging her large melons rhythmically.
Susan did not like how he was doing all the work. She tilted her head a little bit to the side, allowing his mouth more access. While he kept kissing and playing with her tits, her hands began to move. She let them drift lower, caressing his sides on their way down until she finally reached the spot between his legs.
It was now Harry's turn to groan as Susan grabbed the massive bulge beneath his trousers, giving it a soft squeeze. Her eyes widened when his hold on her breasts tightened even further, and she squeezed his erection even firmly in response. She could feel the heat emanating from it as she fondled it, and the desire to truly feel it in her hands won out.
Just as she reached for the zipper in front of his trousers and was about to pull it down, a loud hiss of her name echoed all around them.
Susan blinked, finding herself sat at the far end of the library, tucked away in a secluded corner with her books open in front of her.
"What's wrong with you?" Hannah asked, looking at her in confusion.
Susan blinked again, before flushing brilliantly as she realized she had been having a wet dream about Harry and herself right in the Hogwarts library.
The flickering candlelight from the enchanted chandeliers above cast a warm glow on the pages, but she had not been reading. Her mind had been elsewhere, focused entirely on the boy who had been dominating her thoughts for weeks now.
Hannah sat across from her, pretending to review her Potions notes but clearly paying more attention to Susan.
"N-Nothing," Susan stammered.
Hannah stared at her for a moment before she smirked, her quill twirling between her fingers as she gazed at her knowingly.
"So… when are you going to tell him?"
Susan snapped her head up, her eyes wide in alarm. "Hannah!" she hissed, glancing around to see if anyone had overheard. A few students passed by their table, arms laden with books, but none paid them any mind beyond a passing glance. Even so, Susan felt her face flush as she leaned in closer. "Why would you even ask that?"
"Because I know you, Sue," Hannah said, setting her quill down and folding her arms. "You're completely smitten with him. And honestly, after what happened in the tent before the task, I'd say he might not be so oblivious to you anymore either."
Susan flushed, the memories rushing to the forefront of her mind. It was the same tent she had just dreamed about. She groaned, burying her face in her hands. "That was just me being reckless. It wasn't planned."
Hannah chuckled. "You call sneaking into his dressing room before the second task and kissing him 'reckless'? I call it bold. I mean, how did he react? You never told me."
Susan peeked at her through her fingers, her face burning. "He didn't pull away."
Hannah's grin widened. "See? That means something!"
Susan sighed and sat back, shaking her head. "It doesn't. He was probably too surprised to react. And even if it did mean something, it doesn't matter now. Everyone knows about him and Katie Bell."
Hannah scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. "Everyone knows they've been sleeping together, sure. But that doesn't mean she's the only one he's interested in."
Susan bit her lip. "Then there's Fleur Delacour. You saw what happened after the second task."
Hannah rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. That was pure adrenaline. She was grateful he saved her sister and got caught up in the moment."
Susan frowned. "Still… Fleur Delacour. Katie Bell. I can't really compete with them, Hannah. He's been on the Quidditch team with Bell for over three years, and Fleur is… well, you know already."
Hannah leaned forward, her expression turning serious. "Why do you keep thinking of this as a competition? You don't have to 'win' against them, Susan. You just have to make your own place in his life."
Susan let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "And how exactly am I supposed to do that?"
Hannah smirked again. "Easy. You've got something they don't."
Susan raised a skeptical brow. "Oh? And what's that?"
Hannah merely stared pointedly at Susan's generous bust, prompting the redhead to glance down. Immediately, her thoughts rushed back to her dirty daydream and she began imagining Harry's hands all over them, mauling and squeezing her breasts while he kissed her.
Hannah saw her reaction and giggled, pressing a hand to her mouth to stifle the sound as Susan turned to her friend with a disapproving look on her face.
"You got anything serious for me?"
Hannah's smirk softened into a knowing smile. "A real reason to be with him. How's that sound?"
Susan stared at her, confused. "What do you mean?"
Hannah sighed. "Sue, you have to continue the Bones family line. It's not just an expectation—it's a duty. But you also care about Harry in a way that isn't just about attraction or status. You actually like him for who he is, not for what he's done or what he can give you."
"But... it feels wrong," Susan said softly. "To approach it that way. To make it about the Bones family."
Hannah frowned. "It's not the only reason, you idiot. It's just... added motivation. It's a responsibility, something important to you. And Harry is someone who respects duty."
Susan still looked conflicted. "But what if he feels like I'm... using him?"
"Using him?" Hannah scoffed. "You're offering him something too, Susan! You're not a liability. You are a good and kind person, who's fiercely loyal. A partner. It's not like you are solely approaching him to continue your bloodline."
"But what about him seeing other people?" Susan said quietly.
Hannah squeezed Susan's hand over the table. "He's a young man. He's exploring. He's Harry Potter! He's probably got girls throwing themselves at him. That doesn't mean he doesn't have room in his life for someone else. Someone... like you."
Susan met Hannah's gaze, her expression searching. "You really think so?"
"I know so," Hannah said firmly. "You're exactly what he needs."
"What do you mean?"
Hannah smiled, a teasing glint in her eyes. "You're grounded. You're loyal. You can keep him sane. He needs someone who can see beyond the 'Boy Who Lived' and actually care about Harry."
Susan blushed, looking away. "That's... a lot to live up to."
"You already are," Hannah said, nudging her arm. "Just be yourself, Susan. That's more than enough."
Susan frowned, considering her words. "Even if that's true, how does that change anything?"
Hannah leaned in, lowering her voice. "Think about it. You can be with him without him having to give anyone up. If he really likes you, you wouldn't be taking anything away from him, just adding to what he already has."
Susan's mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. The idea had never really occurred to her in that way before. She had always assumed that if she wanted to be with Harry, she would have to compete with the other girls in his life, that she would have to prove herself worthy. But if what Hannah was saying was true… then maybe, just maybe, she didn't have to fight for a place. She could simply claim it.
Hannah watched the thoughts swirl in her friend's mind and pressed on. "You're not asking him to leave Katie or stop seeing Fleur. You'd just be letting him know that you want to be with him too. And unlike the others, you have a real reason—your family's future. The Bones name is one of the most respected in the wizarding world. It deserves to continue, and Harry… well, you already know he's the kind of person who wouldn't turn his back on something like that."
Susan looked down at her hands, her fingers gripping the edges of her book. "You make it sound so simple."
Hannah smiled. "Because it is. You don't need to play games or try to outshine anyone. Just talk to him. See where he stands."
Susan exhaled deeply. "And what if he says no?"
Hannah hesitated for a moment before she shrugged. "Then at least you'll know. But honestly? I don't think he will. Not after the way you kissed him before the second task."
Susan gave her a flat look. "That's your reasoning?"
Hannah grinned. "That, and the fact that you're Susan Bones. You're smart, kind, and absolutely stunning, and anyone with half a brain would be lucky to have you. Even Harry Potter."
Susan couldn't help but chuckle, shaking her head. "You're impossible."
"And you're in love with him."
Susan's smile faltered slightly, and she looked away. "Maybe."
Hannah leaned back, looking satisfied. "Then do something about it."
Silence settled between them for a moment, the only sounds being the occasional footsteps of students walking past and the rustling of parchment as someone turned a page nearby. Susan let her eyes wander across the room, her thoughts racing. Could she really do this? Could she really put herself out there and tell Harry how she felt?
Hannah watched her closely and then smiled. "Just think about it, Sue. Try and get him on a date in Hogsmeade. Be selfish for once."
Susan looked down at her book, pretending to read even as a small, uncertain smile played at her lips. "I wish it were that simple."
"It is," Hannah said firmly. "You just have to believe it."
Susan looked contemplative as she stared at the book. She didn't know if what Hannah was saying was plausible enough. But for the first time, she felt like it wasn't entirely impossible.
TBC.
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