A/N: Hey everyone! Hope you're doing well. If you liked this chapter, please drop a comment, leave a review, and send a Power Stone. Thanks for all the support!
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Mid-may brought even warmer weather, and half the student body could be found outside whenever they weren't in class. Harry exulted in it. Between his daily flights, nightly indulgences at the Pride, and liaisons with Fleur and Tracey, he could almost forget the pressures of the approaching third task.
But his scar wouldn't let him forget the danger he was in. It prickled constantly now, especially whenever he was feeling strong emotion. He sometimes woke with a vague sense of dread. He'd seen Pettigrew's cowering visage once more in his dreams. Anxiety gripped him every time he remembered the look on Apolline Delacour's face after she'd examined him. Hopefully she was working on a way to address the problem.
He finally confessed the whole truth about his scar to Hermione. The aches and pains. The prickling sensations. The visions. Apolline Delacour's horror at whatever she'd sensed. Hermione was just as distressed by the revelation as he'd expected, and made him swear to keep her updated. In return, he made her swear not to camp out in the library in search of an answer. Both already had too many other things to worry about.
Harry and Cedric were battling each other twice a week now. He was growing confident that they could both outperform Fleur and Viktor when the time came. If only they knew what the third task would involve.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"And Gryffindor leads 100 to 20!" Lee Jordan's voice echoed across the pitch.
Harry hovered high in the air near Malfoy, both boys scanning the ground in search of the snitch. He smiled as Katie scored yet another goal on the panicking Slytherins. He'd spent most of the match shadowing his opponent, solely for the purpose of getting under his skin.
"You know, Draco, you're really damn lucky to have your magic right now," he yelled through the wind.
"What are you talking about, Potter?"
"Your hired goons. I always knew you were a coward, but do you know what would have happened if they had succeeded in taking me out?"
"I have no idea what you're babbling about."
He tried to fly away but Harry followed him doggedly.
"I'm under a magical contract to compete in the Tournament. If the Cup thinks someone is trying to sabotage it, who knows what it will do? You might just become a squib if you try to injure me again."
The blonde boy glared impotently and remained silent.
Harry was almost certain that the Goblet of Fire would do no such thing, as its contract wasn't with Malfoy. But he and Hermione had speculated on the consequences of interfering with the tournament, and it couldn't hurt to sow some fear and doubt among his enemies.
He laughed as Katie scored yet again, eliciting a roar from the crowd.
"Is it a Slytherin trait that you can't fight your own battles? Seems kind of pathetic to me."
"I'm ten times the wizard you'll ever be."
"You're better at creating pretty badges, I admit. But you probably didn't even do that yourself. Let's find out how much of a wizard you are after the tournament. We'll have that duel you challenged me to in first year. Unless you're scared."
Malfoy dove away from him, pretending to have seen the snitch. Harry followed casually.
"Was that a feint? You can do better than that."
He wasn't normally given to taunting, but both the Pride and his training had granted him new faith in his own abilities. After the attack against him, he wanted to humiliate Malfoy, both in the game and in a real duel. With luck, he could provoke him into doing something so stupid that he'd get expelled.
Malfoy cursed as Gryffindor scored again, extending its lead.
"Looks like you'll need a miracle," Harry said. "Think you can beat me to the snitch?"
The wind carried away the angry answer.
The pair flew slowly over the action for another fifteen minutes. Harry kept one eye on Malfoy and the other on the pitch. The match had been entirely one-sided so far. Angelina had the chasers working with unbeatable precision, and McLaggen barely had to defend the goals. Even with the Slytherins' constant attempts to foul, Gryffindor was flying circles around them.
"Spinnet passes to Johnson, and she scores again! Gryffindor's delectable chasers are on fire today!"
"Jordan!"
The Gryffindor stands erupted, drowning out McGonagall's outrage. Harry half-hoped the snitch didn't show up for another hour. It might become the biggest blowout in school history.
Unfortunately, the little golden ball showed up five minutes later. It glinted in the sun, not far from the Slytherin goals. He sped after it before Malfoy even noticed it, though he could feel him giving chase. The battle was over in less than ten seconds. He was almost disappointed. He would have relished an opportunity to plow his obnoxious enemy into the ground.
The crowd roared as he held the snitch aloft. He flew by the stands for a slow victory lap, not above enjoying the moment given what he had endured this year. He noted that Viktor Krum was in the audience, standing next to Hermione and applauding like everyone else.
The Slytherin students booed him as he flew by. He smiled cheerfully at them. Tracey was there, booing with her housemates, but sporting a little smirk. Daphne stood next to her, stone-faced, and Harry couldn't resist winking at her. He didn't miss the color that appeared on her cheeks. Or the glare she sent his way.
He finally turned and flew down to his waiting teammates. 370-40. A massacre. Even with a loss to Hufflepuff, the victory sealed the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor. There would be one hell of a party in the Pride tonight. He couldn't wait.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Harry sighed in bliss as Alicia Spinnet rode his face. He couldn't see her through the Gryffindor tie wrapped around his eyes, but he could taste her and smell her, and that was enough. She kneaded his hair and moaned, grinding her clit against his nose as his tongue cleaved her soaked lips. Her arousal dripped onto his tongue as she writhed above him.
Behind her, Katie or Angelina—he wasn't sure which—was riding his cock with ever-increasing vigor. She had begun with slow, sensual grinding, and was now almost bouncing off his hips, swallowing him inside her warm depths so deliciously he could barely stand it.
The party had begun before they'd even reached the Pride. The entire team had gathered in the boys' showers for thirty minutes of slick, sudsy debauchery. They'd taken only a brief break to party in the common room before resuming the festivities elsewhere. Everyone was ready to let loose after the long hours of practice had produced an epic victory.
One of the girls had wrapped a blindfold around his eyes and dragged him to a bed. Now his wrists were tied to the bedposts as girls molested him one after the other.
Alicia moaned and yanked on his hair, pressing his face deeper into the wetness between her legs. He breathed in her musky scent as she mashed her clit against his nose and squirmed. He'd never seen her so beside herself. She suddenly dropped her full weight on him, and he had to struggle to breathe. Her whole body shuddered and her pussy squeezed his tongue as an intense orgasm tore through her. She continued riding him even after she was finished, little aftershocks making her shiver.
The girl impaling herself on his cock moaned loudly, revealing herself to be Katie. She drove him home one last time and left him sheathed deep within her. She ground her hips as her pussy spasmed, her incredible softness gripping and releasing him rapturously. Her climax coaxed out his own, and he bucked his hips into her and groaned as it built and built and then exploded. He unleashed a dozen loads deep within her as both panted in ecstasy.
Alicia finally rolled off him, and Katie followed suit. He felt a momentary sense of loss without any weight pressing him into the bed. His softening cock was slick and cold without the wet warmth of a pussy enveloping it.
He sighed in relief as a soft tongue slobbered all over it and then pulled it into a warm mouth. He didn't care who the tongue belonged to. It didn't matter, as long as she continued suckling it so tenderly. No wonder Hermione liked blindfolds so much. It really did make the whole experience more erotic.
A strong pair of legs pressed his shoulders into the bed, and he knew it had to be Angelina. He could sense her hovering over his face. A drop of warm cum dripped onto his nose.
"Poor, Harry," she cooed. "Tied down and used by a whole pile of girls."
"Yeah, it's been awful."
She laughed. "Just be thankful we won. I won't have to break your face. You might still get suffocated though."
"It sounds like a wonderful way to go."
"That's the spirit. Open your mouth."
He did so, and felt her dab his tongue. The all-consuming power of lust potion worked its magic through his veins, and his cock instantly grew hard again. The girl between his legs licked along his entire length, bathing it in her saliva. She kissed the tip so softly that it throbbed. He thrust his hips, and her lips parted to engulf him. Her tongue teased the underside of his crown, and he groaned in ecstasy. The desperate need for another release was already approaching in the distance.
"Your night's just begun, my talented seeker," Angelina said. "Hope you're ready for it."
"I am."
"Good."
She lowered her pussy to his mouth, and he eagerly thrust his tongue between her soaked folds. Her long, dark lips spread around him like a butterfly. The cum of her former lovers instantly oozed out of her and coated his tongue and chin.
She moaned. "That's it, Harry. Clean me out, then make me cum all over your face."
His face was soon soaked by her arousal and the sticky cum that dripped from her warm depths, but he couldn't care less. The lust potion was raging within him, and he wanted nothing else in the world but to please her. He pulled hard against his restraints, desperate to knead her magnificent ass in his hands.
She thrust her engorged clit against his tongue. He teased its slick, fleshy underside until it was throbbing, then pulled it into his mouth and suckled. She groaned and tugged his face forward by the hair, writhing atop him and squeezing his head with her powerful thighs until both were panting. Harry tried his best to drive her wild. It was her first Quidditch Cup as Captain, and he wanted her to cum harder than she ever had in her life.
Another tongue joined the one teasing his cock, and a hand gently kneaded his balls. The battling tongues bathed him until his cock ached with need. The girls, whoever they were, traded it back and forth, enveloping his crown tightly before kissing each other with it trapped between them. He'd never felt more worshiped.
"I'm first," he heard one of them whisper, and then his cock was yet again engulfed by wonderful warmth. He groaned as she slowly slid down his length, spreading her tight walls. She squeezed him so thoroughly that he could almost feel her heartbeat through her soft flesh. He thought it might be Parvati, but didn't really care, so long as she didn't stop moving.
Angelina pressed her clit firmly against his nose and encouraged his tongue to plunge deeper into her depths. He eagerly spread her lips and thrust it inside her, teasing her walls until they squeezed him back. She moaned and dropped her ass on his chin. Her thighs quivered around his head, and she cried out as she came. She ground her pussy on his face and soaked him with her release, just as she had promised.
The sensation nearly drove him mad. The weight of her body, the warmth of her pussy, the gush of her climax—it was all too much. He growled and shoved his cock into the girl riding him. She gasped and squeezed him with such delicious friction that he could no longer bear it. He came powerfully within her, releasing in such a flood of ecstasy that his orgasm seemed to last forever. Burst after burst coated her walls. He panted as she rode him even more feverishly and Angelina continued her attempt to smother him with her pussy.
Though his hands were still bound, someone caressed his fingers, and a moment later they were pulled inside the warm, soft flesh of another girl. His thumb teased her pubic hair and he wondered vaguely if it belonged to Saoirse. He added a third finger, and she lifted a leg onto the bed to give him better access. He pressed firmly against her walls, teasing her g-spot, and a Gaelic curse followed. Definitely Saoirse.
His other hand was soon claimed too. Someone extended his fingers and then rubbed a swollen clit along his fingertips. Then she slid them deep inside her and starting riding them.
Angelina finally removed her weight from him, leaving him gasping for air. Whoever was riding him cried out in ecstasy and ground her clit against him. He couldn't resist a delighted smile. This was going to be a night to remember, even if he couldn't see anything.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Several days later, Harry, Cedric, Cho, and Hermione sat around a table in the Room of Requirement, partaking of a pitcher of butterbeer that Dobby had provided.
"I think we should just review from here on in," said Cedric. "It sounds like it will be more of an obstacle course than anything."
"Probably so," Harry agreed. "They can't hide a dragon in a maze. Or at least I hope they can't."
They had discovered three days earlier that the final task would involve navigating a maze. Ludo Bagman had shown them the growing hedges on the quidditch pitch. The maze itself would be built on a massive scale, but both boys were relieved that it seemed to be a mundane task compared to the first two.
"They'll probably have creatures for you to deal with, and maybe some traps," Hermione said. "Those could require analytical thinking skills more than fighting."
She was feeling a little vindicated about her earlier prediction of an intellectual exercise, even if it didn't involve a written test.
"It's a shame you can't just fly over the thing," Cho mused. "I suppose that would be too easy."
"There's no way our luck's that good."
"I'll make a list," Hermione said. "You should review every creature on the curriculum in Care and Defense, especially things meant to trick you or slow you down."
"And ways to get around obstacles like tar pits or something," added Cho. "Can you blast your way through the hedges?"
"No idea," Harry replied.
He and Cedric were tied for the lead, so they would be entering the maze together. His skills, especially in magical combat, had increased dramatically from the beginning of the year. Not only had they made their way through almost all of Hermione's original list, but Cedric had supplied some additional spells to learn.
The older boy had mastered the disillusionment charm, but so far that was beyond both Harry and Hermione. They had managed to make themselves flicker in and out of sight, but the spell-casting and visualization required were tricky. He hoped he wouldn't need something so complex.
Cedric had also taught them a gouging spell that could nearly rip a training dummy in half. It had been invented to disembowel animals quickly and efficiently. Harry had no desire to see what it could do to a person. Hermione had gone green when she saw the results on a dummy, and was only willing to put a half-hearted effort into learning it.
All told, he supposed he was as ready as he could be, so long as he didn't have to perform advanced transfiguration.
"How are things going on your special project?" Cho asked. "Any more news?"
Harry smiled. "Too early to say, but Ron borrowed my broom yesterday and went to the pitch. He didn't say anything, but I'm pretty sure he was meeting Tamsin there. I didn't want to pry."
Their efforts to push Ron and Tamsin Applebee together were potentially bearing fruit, but no one wanted to be too pushy. Harry and Hermione both felt a little guilty about interfering in their lives, but it seemed necessary. They didn't want to harm their fledgling friendship with Ron, but they needed frequent time away from him both for training and the Pride.
"We should let nature take its course," Hermione said, "and hope for the best. If he messes up too badly, maybe Harry can give him some advice. And I can't believe I just said those words."
"Hey! I'm not that bad!"
"You aren't now. But last year you would have been just as helpless as Ron."
"Look who's talking, Miss I-Love-Gangbangs-More-Than-Books."
Cho burst out laughing. Hermione went red but held up her nose. "You're just jealous you can't experience them."
"Oh, he could," Cedric replied, "but it would involve a different orifice."
The girls laughed at his horrified expression.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Harry read the cryptic note for the third time. It was obviously from Tracey, but he couldn't tell if she wanted to meet for sex or to yell at him again. They hadn't communicated by note since their first encounter.
She had been less than pleased with him after the conversation with Daphne. Apparently, she had expected things between the two to go swimmingly, despite the lengthy contract they had insisted upon.
From his point of view, the contract had been insulting. Tracey had assumed he wouldn't turn down a liaison with her beautiful friend no matter what terms were attached. The argument hadn't ended well.
Harry frowned and lit the note on fire, destroying the evidence.
He didn't really want to deal with either girl right now. His good mood following the Quidditch victory and its ensuing celebration had disappeared. The last week had consisted of one ominous revelation after another.
Several days ago, Barty Crouch, one of the organizers of the tournament, had been found dead on Hogwarts grounds. The fact that such a thing could happen just outside the castle was disturbing.
That same night, he had experienced a dream about Voldemort, the first clear one since the summer. He had witnessed everything from Voldemort's perspective, able to see only a dark wand pointing at a trembling Pettigrew. The traitorous Marauder had done something wrong, and was being chastised for it. Harry had woken up in a cold sweat before he could discover anything more.
He had managed to go months without feeling as if Voldemort were breathing down his neck. The challenges of the tournament had monopolized his attention, and represented a different kind of danger.
Now he could no longer ignore the signs. He should have been paying more attention to them all year. A Death Eater attack at the World Cup. Dreams about Voldemort. Aches in his scar. A murder on the Grounds. Sirius had warned him yesterday via floo to keep his eyes open: that whoever had entered him into the tournament was running out of time to do him in.
Professor Moody's paranoia didn't help. He pulled Harry aside after class and told him to practice constant vigilance and stay close to his friends. He told the intimidating man that he was ready, but didn't feel like revealing the full scale of his preparations for the task.
Now there was apparently new drama with Tracey.
With a sigh he grabbed his invisibility cloak and left Gryffindor tower. He wrapped it around himself and checked the map, careful to ensure that he wasn't being followed. He frowned when he noticed the name waiting at his destination. Daphne Greengrass. And she was alone.
Should he expect an angry witch or an apologetic one? He was ready to offer a grudging apology if only to move on. Bedding Daphne wasn't worth damaging his friendship with Tracey.
He arrived on time and entered the room cautiously. Daphne was sitting on an old desk and dangling her legs, her face an expressionless mask.
"Potter."
"Daphne. I thought I would be meeting Tracey here."
"She sent the note, but insisted that I should come alone."
"Well, I'm here. Something on your mind?"
She took a breath to compose herself. "I took some time to think over what you said. Tracey convinced me that there's been some misunderstanding. I wish to clear the air."
"Okay. I'm sorry if I offended you. That honestly wasn't my intention."
"That is appreciated. I did not wish to offend you either. It appears that some of my assumptions were mistaken."
"Such as?"
He didn't miss the slight blush that appeared on her cheeks. "I was given to understand that you would be accommodating. Very interested, I believe Tracey said. That did not seem to be the case."
Harry sighed. With so many other problems presenting themselves in his life, he didn't have the mental energy to be anything but direct.
"Daphne—please forgive my Gryffindorishness…" He paused. "That's probably not a word, but you know what I mean."
She smirked. "Go on."
"I'm under a lot of stress right now, okay? Someone is trying to kill me in this damn tournament, and they're running out of time. A lot of bad things have been happening lately, and my gut tells me it's about to get worse."
"I wasn't aware you were under so much pressure."
"Well, I really didn't enter myself, no matter what people think, and if you knew anything about my life, you'd probably run screaming. Near death experiences are par for the course for me at Hogwarts."
She listened intently but didn't reply.
"What I'm saying is, it seems like we live in two different worlds. I don't understand yours. Don't get me wrong—you're drop dead gorgeous. I think we'd both enjoy spending some time together, but not when there's a strict contract involved. The Goblet of Fire put me under one and it's still threatening my magic. I guess what I want to know is, why do you really want to do this?"
He paused after his speech to observe her. She looked away and seemed to deflate before his eyes.
"Do I have your word that this conversation will remain between us? That it will not reach even Granger's ears?"
"You do."
"I—I've been hearing for months about your liaisons with Tracey. I think she tells me every detail to make me jealous. I can't do the things she does, or that most of my peers do. I suppose I just wanted an experience that would make me feel free for once."
"Free?"
She made a face, the first awkward expression he had seen on her. "I gather you know that my family is quite traditional."
"Yes."
"My parents are not the Death-Eating kind of pureblood, in case you're worried about that. They didn't participate in the last war. But they don't allow me or my sister to make our own decisions. We are to uphold the family honor at all costs. If we were to…debase ourselves, it would be a grave offense. I'm not allowed to date. Or even socialize with people without their approval. My only real friends are Tracey, whom they consider more of an amusing vassal than a person, and my little sister. The chances of me having some fun are virtually nil."
"That's awful."
She nodded. "It's why I thought a contract was necessary. I still believe it is. You don't understand what my parents would do if we were caught. They would consider me a disgrace, and they are counting on my reputation when it comes to arranging a suitable marriage. They intend to ask for an exorbitant bride price."
He sighed. The poor girl couldn't even go out on a date. Or decide her future husband. Once again, he felt as if some of the pureblood families hadn't evolved past the middle ages.
"I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault," she said, averting her eyes. "But I hope you understand now what's at stake for me. I'm taking a grave risk. One that Tracey tempted me into taking, against my better judgment. I had assumed you understood. So when you spoke to me in such a manner, of course I found it insulting."
"I didn't know. Can I ask why you chose me in particular? With a contract involved, a girl like you—you could have your pick."
She still didn't quite meet his eyes. "I gather from Tracey that you are kind, outside of your brashness. I wanted my first time to be with someone who would treat me well."
"Your first time? I—I thought…"
"What? That I had a vast array of experience? Where would I acquire it?"
He sat down on a desk, for the time understanding not only the risk she was taking, but that she actually was making herself vulnerable to him, despite her attitude.
"I didn't understand everything. And yes, I would treat you well. I thought the contract was just to, well—"
"Insult you and flaunt my lack of respect for whorish Gryffindors."
He smiled at her delivery. "Yeah, something like that."
"So would you consider signing it?"
He tried not to wince. He could at least consider it now, he supposed, but not on such restrictive terms.
She mistook his silence for rejection. "I thought not," she said wearily. "I am willing to trust you, Potter, if you give me your inviolable word that you will tell no one of what we do together. Not even Granger."
Her sudden acquiescence surprised him. She must be truly desperate for a taste of freedom. "I give you my word I won't say anything. But—"
"But what?"
"If we're talking about your first time, are you sure you want it to be with me? You don't even like me."
"That's not exactly true."
"Oh?"
"I find your manners exasperating, but you are more honorable than my peers in Slytherin. Tracey's tales make you sound like a dashing hero in a novel. A little roughness around the edges is attractive. Under the right circumstances."
Her fair skin almost glowed with embarrassment at her last utterance, but she met his gaze. There was a charged silence as they watched each other, and he smiled, finally feeling as if he were standing on solid ground.
"Just to be clear, you're only looking to have a little fun together?"
"Indeed."
"I have one condition."
"I still refuse to call you 'Harry.'"
"You do have a sense of humor!"
She smirked. "Such a Gryffindor."
"And proud of it. No, my condition is: you have to take off that damn mask. I want to know what you're like when no one's watching. Because if you speak with proper grammar while I'm going down on you, I'll be very disappointed."
She couldn't stop a laugh from escaping. "I'll try. But I have conditions of my own."
"Like what?"
"The first condition is no Granger, which you already know. I will take a risk on you, but not her."
"Okay."
"Second, you are not to speak to me, or even look at me, when we are not together."
"I can live with that, although it's natural to look at a beautiful girl, you know."
She smiled faintly at the compliment. "Third, if we are caught leaving this room, you have been secretly tutoring me in Defense, because it's my weakest subject. I went to you because I was ashamed of asking one of my housemates for help."
"Fair enough. Is that all?"
"I suppose."
"You know, someone could find out whether I tell anyone or not. You know how secrets are in this school. There's a new rumor every day."
"In that case, we will both deny it, because such a rumor is simply too ridiculous to be believed."
He laughed. "I'm starting to like you already, Daphne. But just so you know, Hermione is clever. She might figure it out on her own."
"If she asks directly—"
"I won't lie to her. She's just as trustworthy as I am."
She closed her eyes. "Very well. So long as she understands what's at stake for me. She does not come from my world."
Harry stood up and approached her. "I still feel like I signed a contract, but I can live with this one. Don't you see how weird all this negotiating is?"
"I didn't make the world, Potter, but I do have to live in it."
He drew closer, until he was standing a foot away and able to look directly into her crystal blue eyes. "There's more to the world than old pureblood houses."
She stiffened at his closeness but did not draw away. "Perhaps."
Never having been so close to her, he took a moment to examine her pert little nose, perfect complexion, and long blonde hair. "You are absolutely gorgeous. You know that, right?"
"Thank you," she said softly.
"I'd like to kiss you now, Miss Greengrass, if that's alright."
She smirked. "Call me Daphne. But only in here."
"I thought you'd never ask."
He brought his lips to hers. They were soft and tasted faintly of strawberries. She slowly relaxed and let him in. He pulled her close to him as their tongues played together, and he grew aroused at the feeling of her breasts pressed against him.
He pulled away and rested his forehead on hers. "How am I doing so far?"
"No complaints," she said breathlessly.
"Good. Come over here."
He led her to the huge teacher's desk and lifted her onto it. She stiffened again, but relaxed when she realized he had just set her down to kiss her again.
This one was more passionate and lasted longer. He turned his head and leaned into it. She hesitantly reached her arms around him and ran a hand through his hair. They kissed for longer than he had ever kissed another person. It was strangely intimate, more so than some of the sex he had experienced in the Pride.
He drew back to look at her face and found her smiling. "Was that your first kiss?"
"Yes, and it was brilliant."
He returned her smile and recalled the words that Katie Bell had spoken to him on that November night, in what now felt like another life. "Did you want to do anything else tonight? You're in charge here."
"Really?"
"Of course. You didn't think I'd get you here and then just maul you with my Gryffindor paws, did you?"
"The thought had crossed my mind."
"You don't really know me yet either, Daphne."
She looked over his shoulder at the room. "Where do you and Tracey…?"
He turned and followed her gaze. "Er—"
He almost blurted out 'on the floor,' but realized how crass that sounded. Had he and Tracey really been fucking on the cold stone floor this whole time? In retrospect it seemed absurd. He turned to discover her smirking at him again.
"I already know every detail, Potter. You needn't lie to impress me."
"Oh," he said sheepishly. "It just occurred to me that losing your virginity on the floor might be undignified. Even for a Slytherin."
She ignored his jibe. "Is there a better option?"
He paused and thought. It was foolish to reveal the existence of the Room of Requirement to her. Plus, Daphne would look very out of place on the seventh floor. He didn't know how to transfigure something as a large as a bed. But maybe—oh. Damn.
"Er, Dobby?"
The elf popped into the room, startling Daphne. She instinctively turned her face to hide her identity.
"Yes, Harry Potter Sir?" he asked, bouncing on his toes. He was wearing a pointy wizard's hat and at least six pairs of socks, some reaching past his knees, while others pooled near his ankles.
"Are you able to pop furniture around? Like, say, a bed?"
"Oh, yes, Dobby can! Dobby knows exactly where to find a good bed!"
He snapped his fingers and disappeared, and Harry belatedly realized he should have been more specific. With his luck, Dobby would reappear with McGonagall's bed in tow. With her in it.
Not three seconds later, he was back. There was a pop at the far end of the room, and a large bed appeared in the corner with him standing on it. It was old-fashioned, with an ornate wooden headboard, but looked comfortable.
"Thanks, Dobby. Where did this come from?"
"From the Come-and-Go Room, Harry Potter Sir."
"So, nobody's suddenly missing a bed, right?"
"Oh, no, this bed is being there for many years."
He breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Dobby. You're brilliant, and I'm going to buy you three more pairs of socks."
"Harry Potter Sir is welcome! Dobby always knew he was the bestest wizard!"
The elf popped away. He turned to find Daphne smiling at him oddly, then she almost doubled-over in laughter.
"The bestest wizard!" she wheezed, holding her stomach. "Oh, I can't wait to tell Tracey. Where in Merlin's name did you find him?"
"Hey now, Dobby's a good friend. The bestest elf I know. Believe it or not, he used to belong to Malfoy."
"What?!"
"Long story. I'll tell you sometime."
"You have a strange life, don't you, Potter?"
"You have no idea."
She shook her head and walked around him to examine the bed. She seated herself primly on it, testing the mattress. He followed and sat down next to her.
"I have a bad feeling that Tracey is going to injure me for not thinking of Dobby earlier," he said.
"She very well might. She's not overly fond of the floor."
"Damn."
She looked at him questioningly now that they were both on the bed.
"Like I said, you're in charge, Daphne. I'm going to enjoy whatever we do. Your wish is my command."
"Quite a boon to have the world's bestest wizard under one's command."
"You better believe it," he said, pushing it out his chest. "Dobby knows quality. And socks."
She laughed and leaned into him, the casualness of the gesture delighting him. "I have no experience with this, Potter."
He knew that meant he should take the lead. Despite her decorum, she didn't have the experience to voice her desires, just as he hadn't before Katie took him in hand. As much as he wanted to rip off her mask, the trust she was placing in him suddenly felt precious.
He cupped her face and teased her cheek with his thumb. "How about this, then? No more talking. I will worship your body like it deserves, and you tell me if you want to stop."
"That's acceptable," she said softly, looking into his eyes. Her breath was already coming faster, and he could tell her heart was racing.
"Stand up for me, Daphne."
She stood on shaky legs. He pulled her into a kiss, letting his hands roam across her body until she relaxed and melted into him. Her breasts stretched against the tight fabric of her blouse, and he cupped one and caressed it. She breathed into his mouth, and he kissed her until he could feel the desire pouring off her.
He pulled away and tugged on her Slytherin tie. "I'm going to take your clothes off now."
He took his time undressing her, letting the anticipation build. Her tie came off first, and he undid each of the buttons on her blouse slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. She shrugged out of it, and it fell to the floor. Her bra was a dark green, contrasting vividly with her pale skin. Her skirt came off next, revealing matching knickers and an expanse of creamy skin.
Her eyes remained on his. Without his prompt, she reached behind to remove her bra. It fell to the ground. She slid her panties down her legs and stepped out of them, now standing before him nude. Her expression was defiant and proud, as if she expected him to critique her.
"My God. You're stunning, Daphne."
"Thank you."
Her skin was alabaster white, almost translucent in the dim light. There was a trim patch of pale blonde hair between her legs. Her breasts were full, larger than he expected, with pale pink nipples that were already rock hard. Her dimensions were voluptuous, a sculptor's dream.
His eyes roved her body with open admiration. He wanted her to feel like standing nude before him was a rite of passage. Even if she merely wanted some freedom, he understood instinctively that it would be a mistake to treat this situation too casually. Or to taunt her for all the cold glares she had sent his way. That could wait until after he had driven her wild.
He suddenly remembered he was supposed to be taking the lead here.
"Just lie back on the bed. Let me take care of you."
She did so, and he stood above her and slowly removed his own uniform. He could feel her eyes raking across body, lingering on his abs. He was no Adonis, he knew, but he was stronger and more muscular than he had been just a few months ago. When he was down to his boxers, he lowered them to the ground and stood up, revealing a cock that was rock hard in anticipation.
He stood still and let her examine him, just as he had done with her. Her eyes dropped to his cock and remained there, riveted.
"Like what you see?"
"Yes."
He stepped closer. "You can touch me if you want."
She reached a hesitant hand toward his cock. She squeezed it curiously, exploring the dimensions of his shaft, then rested her soft hand on his swollen hand. It pulsed in her grip, and she closed her palm around it.
"That feels good."
She released him and leaned back on her hands, clearly uncertain what should happen next.
"Lie back," he commanded softly.
Daphne colored at his words, but obeyed. He joined her on the bed. To ease her apprehension, he started with a few soft kisses on her belly, admiring the tiny clear hairs that resided there. He crept slowly upwards, kissing the underside of her breast, then gently took a nipple in his mouth.
She breathed out roughly as he swirled his tongue around it. It grew long and hard, and he suckled it until she was panting.
He squeezed her other breast in his hand, admiring the taut fullness of it. His gentle caresses soon had her squirming and running a hand through his hair.
His hand drifted down her belly, teasing her until it rested just above her mound.
"Spread your legs for me, Daphne."
She did so, but not very wide.
"Good girl."
Harry continued gently suckling on her nipple as his fingertips played along her inner thigh. His palm came to a rest between her legs. She stiffened for a moment, but he ran his fingers through her sparse blonde hair until she relaxed into his touch. He gently teased her lips apart with a single finger. They were puffy and thick with arousal. The gentlest caress of her clit caused her to shiver and open her legs wider. He reached lower and found her lips soaking wet, coating his finger with a single stroke.
His cock grew rock hard, overwhelmed by the knowledge that he had made Daphne Greengrass so wet. How could he have been indifferent to her only hours earlier?
He released her nipple and kissed her belly again, working his way lower.
"Just close your eyes and enjoy this."
Her breath came faster as he went lower. He scooted down until his face was resting between her legs. She had barely made a sound so far, and he wanted to hear her moan.
He nuzzled her clit with his nose and she grabbed the back of his hair again. Her scent was warm and a bit spicy. He licked her little lips with his tongue and they opened for him like a flower, glistening with wetness and exposing more of her pink depths.
She squirmed as he kissed and teased her clit and slid a single finger inside her. He crooked it and stroked her soft walls gently, delighted at the wet squelch they produced.
"Oh, Merlin," she whispered, and gripped his hair harder.
"Does this feel good?"
"Yes," she said breathlessly.
He eased a second finger into her wet warmth and twisted them until her legs were quivering. She couldn't resist pushing her mound into his face as he nuzzled her clit. Though she didn't say a word, in no time at all her pussy was gripping and releasing his fingers uncontrollably. He curled his fingers deeper inside her, teasing her g-spot, and she finally moaned.
"Cum for me, Daphne."
He kissed her clit feverishly and she writhed her hips against his face, her body obeying his instructions. She squirmed and panted and pulled on his hair as ecstasy overcame her, her walls gripping him fiercely.
When she was finished, she released her hold on him and sank back into the bed.
He smiled and kissed his way back up her body until he was suckling on her nipple again. Her skin was amazingly soft, and he loved the fact that he was the first person to touch her like this.
"How was that?" he whispered.
"Merlin," she breathed, her breasts still heaving.
"You were kind of quiet. I was worried I didn't find your spots."
"You found them. I'm just not used to this."
"You will be by the time I'm through with you," he said, and lay down next to her on the bed.
His cock pressed into her hip, and she immediately reached for it. She stroked it uncertainly but firmly, her thumb rubbing back and forth across his crown. He was beyond aroused from what he had just done to her, and hoped she wanted to do more than just touch him.
She stroked him with more confidence as she regained control of herself. "I want to feel this."
He kissed her neck and nuzzled her. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, but I fear it may be too big for me."
"Maybe at first, but not for very long. I promise not to hurt you."
"You have a lot of experience with virgins?"
"No. Only one."
"Granger?" she breathed, as he licked beneath her jaw.
"I really couldn't say."
"That's good to hear. I appreciate discretion."
He leaned into her face and soon they were kissing passionately again. Her tongue was far more aggressive this time. Their time together had become oddly romantic, given its formal beginnings. She pulled away panting, and squeezed his cock with obvious intent.
"I'm ready. Just be gentle."
"I will be. Maybe you should be on top. That way you'll be in control."
"That's what Tracey recommended."
"That's her favorite position."
"I'm quite aware. She spares no details. She gave me a very accurate description of your penis."
Harry laughed as she raised herself off the bed. He scooted beneath her and obligingly held up his cock for her.
She stared at it and took a deep breath as she straddled him. She grabbed it and rubbed his head along her still soaked lips, seeking entry. His head slipped inside her, and he felt a drop of her warm wetness run down his cock. He couldn't stop a groan.
"I'm in," he said, trying to control his desire to thrust. "Push back a little and wriggle until you feel comfortable taking more."
She closed her eyes and slowly eased her way down his length, taking it very slowly. He could feel himself stretching her. He watched her face, thrilled at the mix of focus and desire he saw there. She was so very tight and hot and slick that he had to consciously relax or he was going to lose control. Her grip was incredible. It took half a minute for her to sink down to her hips and take him fully.
"Merlin," she whispered, and opened her eyes.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes. It didn't hurt very much at all. But I feel very, very full."
He smiled. "You're in control of everything. Just move in whatever way feels good."
She moved her hips experimentally, and he could feel her soft walls caressing and squeezing him. She raised herself, withdrawing only an inch before dropping her weight and grinding her hips, adjusting to the intruder buried deep within her.
He ran his fingers up her flanks and cradled her breasts. They looked huge from below. The curve where they met her body was something an artist should immortalize. He teased her nipples between his fingers and she sighed and squeezed his cock with her muscles.
With his tender caresses, she was soon riding him intently, never releasing much of his length but thrusting her clit against him when she pressed forward. His hands moved to her hips and began pulling her into him, meeting her little thrusts with his own. She moaned and arched her back, thrusting out her breasts wantonly.
He committed the sight to memory. It wasn't every day that a gorgeous Slytherin princess writhed atop a Gryffindor.
Their pace remained slow, but became increasingly vigorous. She grew wetter with every penetration, but she was still so deliciously tight that he couldn't imagine trying to pound her. He loved the expression on her face. Her eyes were closed, and her lips had parted as she focused only on the cock sheathed deep within her. The usual formality in her demeanor was totally absent.
He could feel his orgasm approaching and tried to hold it off. He wanted to see that beautiful face contort in ecstasy before he came.
"Rub yourself, Daphne. Cum for me again."
She reached between her legs and squeezed her clit, still rubbing it against him. He pushed in harder and she made a strange little noise. He gripped her hips harder and lifted her, removing just a little more of his length before she dropped again.
She gasped and met his thrusts with her own, pausing only to tease her clit with her fingers. He held on for another minute before the pressure became too exquisite. Just as he groaned and exploded inside her, she panted and squeezed him over and over, her release soaking him. He pulled her hips to him with each thrust, spurting wave after wave of thick cum inside her until he had no more left to give.
When both were finished, she stopped moving and sat atop him, trying to regain control of her breathing. He reached up to squeeze her breasts from underneath.
"Did you enjoy that?" he asked. "You've been very quiet."
She opened her eyes and smiled. "Yes. I just don't know how to talk about things like this."
"You'll get the hang of it. Soon I'll have you singing the Gryffindor fight song when you cum."
She smirked and raked her nails across his belly. "Cocky much, Potter?"
"When my cock is buried inside a Slytherin, yes."
Daphne leaned forward and patted his cheek. "You should consider it a gift from your betters. If you're a good little Gryffindor and keep your mouth shut, I might let you touch me again."
"I'll keep my promise. But you're going to tell Tracey everything, aren't you?"
Her fair skin blushed. "She'll demand every detail. Maybe she won't be insufferable now that I have my own experience with a Gryffindor to brag about."
He laughed and squeezed her breasts. "Now who's being cocky?"