Harry squinted as he made his way toward the Headmaster's Office. The noonday sun shining through the castle windows made his eyes hurt. It was the day after his celebration with Hermione, Cedric, and Cho, and he hadn't gotten much sleep. He and Cedric had double-teamed both girls until they were ready to pass out. The sight of Hermione spit-roasted between them while Cho suckled on her breasts from underneath was seared into his memory like a perfect dream.
His stomach growled impatiently. Hopefully this wouldn't take long, whatever it was. He desperately needed lunch. And maybe another headache potion. A nap wouldn't be amiss either, if he wanted to have energy for tonight.
He had just met with Tracey for a final late-morning liaison, and could still taste her on his lips. She had been insatiable, given that they couldn't see each other over the summer, and he'd left her with a silly smile and an awkward wince when she tried to walk. The details of the third task and its aftermath had to be kept from her, no matter how tempting it was to reveal everything to his Slytherin lover.
An unfamiliar house elf had popped into their room while they were still undressed, startling them both, and bearing a summons from Dumbledore. They dearly hoped house elves didn't gossip about what they saw among the students.
Daphne had decided against a final meeting with him. With no more classes to attend, there were too many curious eyes among the students. They'd only met three times, and she was still adjusting to their new arrangement. She liked to pretend that she was doing him a reluctant favor, but both knew the truth. He didn't miss the little thrill that went through her when a supposed social inferior—and a Gryffindor at that—gave her obscene instructions.
Next year, he intended to wrap her around his finger so tightly that she ripped off the mask herself. He wanted to hear her laugh and curse like Tracey; to cry out his name in ecstasy and beg for more. It was still difficult even to make her moan, no matter how expertly her buttons were pushed.
The gargoyle stepped aside as he approached and Harry ascended the stairs. He knocked on the door and entered at the Headmaster's invitation. To his surprise, Apolline Delacour was present as well.
"Er, hello Madame Delacour. Headmaster. You wanted to see me, sir?"
"Indeed, Harry. Have a seat please."
He sat down next to Fleur's regal mother, who smiled politely at him. The atmosphere in the room seemed rather chilly. If the subject of the meeting was him, it hadn't been going well. Her veela allure was usually calm and sensual. Right now, it felt like a growing tempest.
"What's happening?" he asked.
She answered before Dumbledore could. "Your Headmaster is under the impression that it is his decision whether or not my family repays its debt to you. He assures me that you are unbothered by the dark magic in your scar."
Dumbledore sighed. "Madame Delacour, that is not what I said. I merely wish to emphasize how dangerous it is for Mr. Potter to leave the country. There has just been an attempt on his life."
"And I assure you that he will be perfectly safe with me. I am prepared to make rigorous security arrangements. What is your opinion on the matter, Monsieur Potter?"
"Did she tell you what she sensed in my scar, sir?"
"She did. While it is troubling, I do not find it surprising that there are traces of dark magic residing there. A killing curse is very dark magic."
Apolline sniffed dismissively. "There are not traces of anything, Dumbledore. Do not mock my abilities. His scar is infused with magic so dark that it has no business existing. It should be up to him whether an expert examines it."
"My dear lady, there is far more at stake than you know. Even if you can guarantee his safety, it is too risky for a practitioner of necromancy to examine Mr. Potter. The effects might inadvertently harm him. Moreover, if your necromancer discovers Voldemort's continued existence, she could aid him."
Something in that sentence didn't make sense to Harry, but in his foggy state he let it go, content to listen to the debate for now.
"Madame Vautour is no ally to Dark Lords, unlike the teachers you hire. She would likely make an oath for the right price. But we have already discussed this. You seem intent on denying the young man the right to make his own decisions."
Harry looked at the Headmaster. They were still on fragile ground since the end of the tournament. He didn't want to risk damaging their relationship further, not when his help was necessary to free Sirius. But this was information he needed.
"I don't see the harm in meeting someone, sir. I really want to know what's wrong with my scar. It's been aching all year, and it was excruciating during the fight at the graveyard."
"Harry, I understand your concern, but I think it very unlikely that anything can be done about your scar. It is an unnecessary risk to your safety to gallivant around France."
The temperature in the room rose noticeably, and he felt danger radiating from Apolline Delacour. It seemed the veela allure could do more than hypnotize men.
He spoke before she could get any angrier. "Headmaster, I would be with the Delacours. I trust them. I was in Diagon Alley by myself for two weeks before third year, and no one bothered me. If something can be done about my scar, I want to know about it."
Apolline nodded with finality. "You see? It is his life, not yours. I fail to see why I must have this conversation with you at all."
Dumbledore rubbed his eyes wearily. "My apologies. Things have been rather hectic of late. I did not wish to cause offense, Madame. There are factors in play that you are not aware of. Indeed, that Harry is not aware of. I'm afraid I can't reveal them to you, even if you were to make an unbreakable vow."
Harry opened his mouth to object, but Dumbledore raised his hand quellingly and continued.
"However, I will have a private conversation with Harry about my concerns. If he still wishes to consult with your 'expert' after I have finished, I will allow it. On the condition that she makes an oath, and that I am present for the meeting. He can deliver his decision to you after he has had time to think on the matter."
She held the Headmaster's gaze, displeased, but acquiesced with a tilt of her head. "Very well."
The unnaturally beautiful woman turned to Harry with a much warmer look, and her allure became tender. "I will await your decision. Do not let this man dictate it. I promise that you will be safe with me. Even from merpeople," she added with a final glare at Dumbledore.
She rose loftily and exited the room.
Dumbledore sagged in his seat, clearly relieved at her departure. "She is a rather formidable woman, isn't she? I daresay she is used to getting what she wants."
"I don't doubt it. What is it you need to tell me?"
The Headmaster's eyes searched his for a long moment, and Harry saw a sadness there that unnerved him.
"Something I should have told you earlier, perhaps, but I could not bring myself to do so. Do you remember asking me in your first year why Voldemort targeted you as a baby?"
"Yes, sir."
"You are indeed a young man now, and I pray that you are ready to hear the answer. Once I have explained, I hope you can be convinced to stay away from her necromancer."
His heart started racing. Finally, he would get the answer to why his life had been a constant struggle for survival.
"I'm ready."
Dumbledore rose and retrieved his pensieve from a shelf. He withdrew a silver thread of memory and placed it in the bowl.
"The year before you were born, I had a meeting with an applicant for the Divination position. I did not hold out hope that she would be qualified. However, something extraordinary happened that night. An event that has shaped the lives of many people since then. The woman whom I was interviewing delivered a true prophecy. A prophecy about you. Do you wish to hear it?"
"Yes."
"Come with me into the memory, dear boy."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Harry held onto the broom with both hands, but his grip was light. After a bracing flight over the Forbidden Forest, he felt surprisingly calm. He hovered high in the air, watching the afternoon sun glint off the castle. The placid lake nearby made the whole scene feel tranquil.
'Either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives.' So that was why.
Dumbledore had seemed surprised that he didn't fly into a rage. Or cry. He indeed felt angry, but not truly afraid. An odd sense of calm had come over him, almost a sense of relief.
Now that he knew why he and his parents had been targeted, the strangeness of his life made more sense. He had been chosen by Fate or Destiny or whatever controlled people's lives. What else could explain the way he and Voldemort encountered each other every year? It almost felt scripted.
Dumbledore had told him that prophecies were the mouthpiece of Fate. They were usually ambiguous, but they were always true. The old man felt that his scar was linked to the prophecy. That it had been put there by Fate, and thus had an important role to play. To meddle with that role would be the height of foolishness.
The scar itself might somehow be the equalizer between him and the Dark Lord. If it were cleansed or removed, Voldemort might become stronger. Or Harry weaker. And it was impossible to remove anyway, because he had already researched the matter.
'I believe that events must be allowed to play out, dear boy.'
But what did that mean? Harry understood the lessons of Greek tragedy. That attempting to subvert a prophecy would only bring it to fruition in a tragic manner. But the longer he thought about the idea, the more it infuriated him.
He refused to be a passive observer in his own life. He had only just begun to take control of it. The Pride had given him new confidence. The tournament had given him new faith in his abilities as a wizard. He had won a small victory over his arch-enemy just days ago. At the very least, the monster's return had been delayed.
And now he was being asked to relinquish all control. To let Fate, whatever that was, pull his strings like a puppet master.
That tasted like defeat to him.
He had made his decision before he even came up here, he realized. He couldn't live like Dumbledore wanted him to. Forever passive, waiting on his enemy to make a move. Forever reacting and hoping for the best. He wanted control. The same control that he had begun to experience this year as he discovered himself.
How could he be expected to vanquish Voldemort when he felt debilitated in his very presence? The scar didn't feel like an equalizer. It felt like a Dark Mark on his forehead. It ached and burned like a curse. No—the scar needed to go. If Madame Delacour could find a way to fix it, he would trust her, prophecies be damned.
His mind made up, Harry took one last look at the beautiful scene and flew toward the castle.
Dumbledore had promised to let the final decision be his. His word had better be good. The old man had made a series of terrible decisions this year. Every year, in fact. At least he had the honesty to acknowledge that. Indeed, it seemed to Harry that his arguments in favor of ignoring the scar had been half-hearted at best, and maybe not the whole truth.
He needed to floo Madame Delacour before she left the country. And to get his meeting with Minister Fudge too. The man cared only about his public image, which gave him an idea for getting Sirius a trial. If he was going to defy Fate, he might as well go all in.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"What's the matter?" Hermione asked.
Harry slid his palms along the flesh of her thighs and up her stomach, until he was cradling her perky breasts in his hands. They were in the bed above the Pride—a place he had come to think of as their bed—and she was riding him slowly and sensually. Sometimes their most intimate conversations happened when he was buried deep inside her and they were staring into each other's eyes.
"Why do you think something's wrong?"
"You're looking at me funny. I know your moods, Harry Potter. Something happened."
"Maybe I'm just admiring your body."
She narrowed her eyes and stopped moving.
He sighed. "Alright, I did learn something today. But I'm still digesting it. I don't want to bother you with it yet. Let's just enjoy the end of the year."
"Fine, but you're telling me as soon as you're ready."
"You know I will, my beautiful partner."
Hermione smiled and resumed her gentle grinding. Harry kneaded her breasts, delighting in the hard, pink nipples that adorned them. His hands slipped down her flanks teasingly and she shivered and closed her eyes.
There was no need to tell her about the prophecy yet. Definitely not today. She already knew about the potential issue with his scar, and this new problem was a doozy even by his standards. It was better to let her enjoy their final day in the castle without that burden. She needed a break, and he needed time to think.
He watched her face as she rolled her hips and squeezed him with her tight walls. When they went slow like this, their bodies felt made for each other. Her grip was exquisite, massaging every millimeter of him as he slid through her warm flesh. She bit her lower lip adorably as she worked. There was something about seeing a girl's face when she gave herself over to bliss that ignited a fire in him. It was especially potent with Hermione. To witness her come undone, and know that he was responsible for it, was a pleasure like nothing else.
His hands returned to her breasts as they began to heave. He was an expert on her body now, and knew when she was growing close to release. Her breaths were coming in little pants, and he grabbed her ass and pulled it forward with each thrust. The little moan that escaped when she sank back and took him to the hilt was unbearable.
"Kiss me, Hermione."
She leaned forward and he captured her lips in a lusty, open-mouthed kiss. She panted into his mouth as their tongues played wetly, communicating something more than mere desire.
They kissed until she was whimpering. Her face pulled away and her mouth dropped open as she focused only on the hard cock that was sliding through her soft walls. Harry picked up his pace and she began throwing herself back with more force.
"Cum for me," he whispered.
Hermione grimaced, her eyes tightly shut, as she teetered on the edge. A thick lock of hair fell into her face. Her whole body shuddered as her pussy spasmed around his cock in ecstasy. Her release seemed to last forever, and he loved the look of transport she wore, as if she were momentarily not part of this world.
She held still afterwards, panting for breath. Her eyes opened, and she blinked at the closeness of their faces. For a long moment they simply held their gazes, basking in the intimacy of it.
"Did you finish?" she asked.
"No, I was enjoying the look on your face too much."
She couldn't stop a little blush and pecked his lips. "Dirty boy. Why don't you bend me over so you can't see it?"
He laughed and smacked her ass affectionately. "That sounds like a wonderful idea."
Harry slid from beneath her and she went to her hands and knees. His cock was aching with need now. His crown slipped past her soaked lips and slid along her walls until he was buried within her.
"Hold on, my dear partner."
He grabbed a handful of her thick hair and pulled, forcing her to arch her back. Hermione moaned as he began thrusting into her with hard, powerful strokes. Her ass smacked loudly against his hips. He looked down and watched as she swallowed his length in her depths, over and over.
It took less than a minute to undo him. He pulled hard on her hair as orgasm welled from deep within. He shoved his cock as deep as it could go, and both of them panted as he shot rope after rope of warm cum into the deepest parts of her.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Hermione stood in the darkened alcove, watching the Pride below her. She had watched a scene similar to this one seven months ago. But this time she would be participating, as she had done so many times before. She was in no hurry to join the revelers. After a long nap this afternoon, her mood was contemplative.
Harry had said he would be fashionably late. Something was obviously bothering him—something more than what he'd just been through—but it wouldn't do to pester him on a night meant for celebration. Whatever it was, he would tell her in due time.
The atmosphere below was indeed celebratory. Not only had a long, arduous year ended, but the seventh years had finished their schooling and would be starting their lives elsewhere. Stewart Perkins, Malcolm Ogden, Livia Tinkerfell, and Saoirse Manson would be leaving them forever. So too would a slew of other seventh years who rarely attended. She could only imagine how bittersweet this occasion must be for all of them.
If it was, though, they didn't show it. Seventh years dominated the room below. Most of them were drunk and telling stories. Only a handful of the regulars were having sex, but that would soon change. No doubt things would get wild before the evening ended.
Hermione had a personal motive for celebration too, in addition to the fact that her best friend was still alive. She had visited Madam Pomfrey earlier, both to reassure the witch that she was still fine and to ask if she had discovered anything more about her 'condition.'
Surprisingly, she had news. Pomfrey had made inquiries among her colleagues, and through sheer luck had uncovered gossip about a pair of twin girls from Brazil. Twenty years ago, the teenaged sisters had caused quite a scandal in Rio. Both had suffered from insatiable libidos and hadn't hesitated to satisfy them with as many boys as possible. They described sensations similar to those that Hermione felt: waves of ecstasy and a state of hyper-arousal from bedding many lovers in a row.
Pomfrey knew little more about them except their names, and that both had become powerful witches. One was currently a respected healer. She suggested that Hermione write to the woman with a discreet inquiry.
That's exactly what she intended to do. The questions were already framing themselves in her mind. It would be such a relief to talk with someone who understood, and who would know whether there was something actually wrong with her. She was still a little ashamed of her desires, but also proud of her willingness to sate them. It felt like she was conquering her deepest insecurities, even if, to outsiders, her behavior seemed shamelessly debauched.
She knew better. So did the people below. It made her wet just thinking about how often they had seen her getting fucked senseless. They knew how wanton her lusts were, and they still respected her.
She wanted to indulge herself tonight. It was time to set aside the angst of this awful year and simply enjoy being alive. Without lust potion or alcohol. She wanted to feel and remember every sensation tonight—every tongue that teased her clit, every cock that thrust deep inside her.
Deciding the time was right, Hermione undressed herself in the alcove and then strode downstairs into the Pride, proudly nude. She made her way to a love seat in the middle of the room, feeling all the eyes that followed her progress.
She lay back on the soft, burgundy seat and spread her legs in invitation, waiting for someone to come her way. It didn't matter who. She would satisfy them, just as she had satisfied all the others this year. They had each given her a gift that she felt deep in her core, a feeling she was almost able to summon by thinking about it. It was a hunger, an ache in her belly that fluttered and squirmed.
Her pussy grew soaking wet in anticipation.
Stewart Perkins stumbled by, totally nude except for his Gryffindor tie, and holding a champagne bottle in one hand. He stopped to admire the view she was giving him. She reached a single finger between her legs and teased open her pink lips.
"Hello, Stewart."
"And a lovely evening to you too, Hermione," he said, grinning at her wet folds and the little string of arousal that was suspended from her finger.
"Congratulations on finishing your NEWTs."
"Thank you!"
"Would you like a graduation gift?"
He laughed and took a long pull from his bottle. "I would fucking love a gift."
"Then come here."
He swayed toward her. She leaned forward as he drew near and caressed his soft cock. With his little paunch, it was barely visible in the dim light. It was still on the small side even when it was hard, but that hardly mattered. Cocks gave her pleasure, and she would pleasure them in return.
She teased his head with her tongue until it started to grow, then pulled his whole cock in her mouth. She suctioned it gently while it expanded against her tongue. When his hard length filled her mouth, she released him and lay back on the love seat.
Hermione spread her legs wide for him and smiled. "Your gift is inside."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The party had been raging for a couple hours when Harry descended the stairs. He wasn't in the mood for crazy, drunken debauchery. He would have preferred to be alone with Hermione, in fact. But tonight was a night for celebration, so he did his best to set aside his worries and enjoy the evening, for the sake of his friends if not for his own.
He wouldn't see any of these people again for over two months. Some he probably wouldn't see again for years, given how many were graduating. But he felt a bond with all of them. The Pride invited a strange kind of kinship.
He took in the scene appreciatively as he disrobed. It was exactly as he expected it to be. The lights were low, the music was sultry, and nude bodies were writhing everywhere. There was laughter and a festive air that hadn't been present in recent days. Despite the revelation that an impostor had been teaching them all year, everyone was relieved to be done with exams. Weeks of pent-up energy was being released.
No one accosted him immediately. Everyone was occupied with one or more partners, doing things he couldn't have imagined at the beginning of the year. His eyes found Hermione. She was on her back on a love seat, her legs wrapped around a seventh-year that he had seen in the Pride only once before. Sebastian something perhaps? He needed to make more of an effort to meet people outside his year.
Hermione looked like she was in a state of rapture. Her eyes were closed and there was a little smile on her face as the boy thrust deeply into her with long, slow strokes. Her arousal shined on his cock every time he pulled away.
He spotted Cho too. She was on her hands and knees, right in the middle of the floor. Dane Murphy was fucking her from behind, jolting her whole body and making her small breasts roll with each thrust. Her mouth was open and her face was contorted in pleasure, little gasps escaping her constantly. His cock grew hard just looking at her.
Deciding he needed a drink, he made his way to the refreshment table. Cedric was standing beside it, smiling down at his housemate Leanne Turner. She was on her knees and worshiping his cock with slobbery kisses.
Right next to them was—a pillory? He paused and stared at it in surprise. A girl was literally locked into a medieval pillory, her wrists and neck imprisoned by the holes in the wood. She was bent double, her face near the wall, and he could only see her legs and ass. There were red handprints on each cheek, and someone had written 'USE ME' on them.
He drew closer to get a better look, and recognized her body. It was Jo Hampson. She'd no doubt demanded that someone transfigure the device just for her use. A pink dildo was stuffed into her ass, a couple inches of it protruding. Her dark, fleshy labia were soaked, and there were streaks of cum all over her back. He couldn't resist the temptation, and smacked her ass. Hard.
There was a muffled cry, and Harry looked around the other side to discover that she was blindfolded and gagged. He laughed. This was a new level of kinky, even for her.
"Hey, Jo."
"Mmmph."
"You can get out of there if you want, right?"
She nodded awkwardly. "Mmhmph."
"Alright then. I'm going to get a drink before I torture you."
He poured himself a drink at the table just as Cedric groaned and spurted into Leanne's mouth. He took a sip and watched as she stood with a mouthful of cum and pulled her housemate into a long, lusty kiss.
Harry smirked at the pair and moved around them so he could stand next to the imprisoned Jo. He rested a hand on one of her ass cheeks and kneaded it roughly, making her wriggle. Cedric and Leanne finally broke their kiss, leaving a little string of cum suspended from their lips.
"You know, only Hufflepuffs would come to a Gryffindor sex club to fuck other Hufflepuffs," he said.
They both laughed.
"Can't take the loyal badger out of us no matter where we are," Leanne said. "I'm willing to shag a few Gryffindors too. You'll just have to wait your turn."
"I can be patient."
"Good. I'll find Katie and maybe later we'll tie you to a bed."
He smiled as she walked away, weaving through the sea of bodies in search of her friend. He ran his hand down the back of Jo's thigh, eliciting a shiver, then smacked her ass loudly. It jiggled and turned even redder. A strangled cry followed.
Cedric smiled. "Having fun with the prisoner? I wondered when you were going to show."
"Just feeling a little tired after everything, I guess. And if the lovely Jo wants to be used, who am I to deny her?"
"Fair point."
Harry grabbed the edge of the dildo and gently pulled it out of her ass. It was thick and had deep ridges built into it. She squirmed in protest at its removal. He sheathed it again and reached a single finger between her legs to tease her.
"I think she'd rather have your cock."
"I reckon if she didn't say how she wanted to be used, that's her fault. Enjoying your last night at Hogwarts?"
"Hell, yes. I'm going to miss this place and I'm not even a proper member of the Pride."
Harry ran his finger up and down Jo's long labia, flicking them back and forth as they talked. He squeezed them together and fondled them, but didn't pleasure her clit directly.
"What are you doing next? With the whole tournament mess, I forgot to ask."
"Just some traveling at first," Cedric said. "I want to visit America and the rest of Europe. Maybe Asia too if I have time. Eventually a Transfiguration Mastery with someone, if I'm not needed here for more important reasons."
"Transfiguration?" he said in mock horror. "Sounds boring as hell."
"It saved our asses earlier, didn't it?"
"No doubt about that."
Jo wriggled, trying to rub herself harder against Harry's finger. He smacked her ass and produced another muffled cry. When she stopped moving, he resumed tickling her lips with the lightest of caresses. She yelled something through the gag that could only be a curse.
Cedric laughed. "She sounds mighty irritated with you right now."
He smacked her ass again, leaving a deep red handprint, then teased her soaked entrance with the very edge of his finger, not granting her any penetration. "No, she's getting exactly what she wants. Aren't you, depraved little girl?"
He squeezed her ass cheek as hard as he could, and there was a quiet whimper, whether in pleasure or pain, it was hard to say. The boys just smiled at each other as she squirmed.
"Will you look after Cho for me next year?" Cedric asked, suddenly a bit more serious. "I'm afraid she'll be lonely. She's got friends in Ravenclaw, but she doesn't enjoy their little social club."
"Hermione and I will take care of her. She's pretty much one of us now."
"Thank you. I like knowing she's in good hands."
Harry looked at him speculatively. The nature of his relationship with Cho had always confused him, but it felt impolite to ask. He lowered his voice. "Are you guys going to, er, keep seeing other each other? I've never been sure how serious you were."
"Casually? Sure. She's basically my best friend at this point, but she's promised to a wizard in Hong Kong. Nothing can come of it in the long term."
"Promised?"
"Her parents arranged it when she was six. But she's allowed to take advantage of her time at Hogwarts."
Harry shook his head. There was still so much he didn't understand about pureblood culture. Arranged marriages seemed like such a ridiculous and unfair anachronism.
"And you're okay with that?"
Cedric smiled a little sadly. "Not much choice, is there? We knew it going in. We're still young though. Who knows what the future holds? Maybe something will change, or maybe she'll be my mistress."
He decided not to think too hard on it. He couldn't solve his own problems, let alone everyone else's. "Whatever you say, mate."
His hand expressed his feelings by smacking Jo's ass again. She almost sounded as if she were crying now. The teasing touch of his finger must really be driving her mad. He looked down and realized that her arousal was literally oozing out of her and soaking her clit before dripping to the floor. He gave her a little relief, shoving a single finger deep inside her and wriggling it. She gasped through the gag and squeezed it fiercely. He smirked and stroked her walls while she writhed, trying to pull him deeper.
Angelina strolled by, leading George Weasley by the cock. He was blindfolded and she was sporting a huge grin.
"Hey, Harry. Did you want a dose of the good stuff? There's some available."
"Nah, I want to maintain my sanity tonight. Did you dose this little deviant in the stocks?"
"You better believe it."
"No wonder she's so desperate."
"Her own damn fault. Keep torturing her before you decide to maul her."
He laughed as she strutted away. People were definitely mauling and getting mauled all around them. He and Cedric watched all the naked bodies in silence as he casually fingered Jo, prolonging her agony. It was difficult to see clearly in the dim light, but he could make out Katie Bell at the edge of the room. She was on her back. McLaggen's face was buried between her legs while he stroked himself in preparation. Nearby he could see Parvati bent over a couch while Lee Jordan fucked her. Lavender was grinning and whispering in her ear while she twisted two fingers in her asshole. Given the sheen of sweat on Parvati's back and the look of desperation on her face, she had no doubt taken some lust potion too.
Jo made a tortured sound and squirmed, stamping her foot on the ground. He smiled and added another finger. There was a throaty moan of approval. She squeezed him like a vice when he curled his fingers against her soft flesh. He took mercy on her and rubbed his thumb firmly up and down the engorged nub of her clit. She came almost instantly, screaming into the gag. Her whole body trembled as she soaked his fingers with her release. When she was finished, she almost collapsed against the pillory.
He smacked her ass one last time, delighted at the jiggle it produced.
Cedric laughed and grabbed hold of the dildo stuffed inside her. "Good show. I think I'll punish her next."
Harry grinned and shrugged. "She's gagging for it, pun intended."
He wondered absently what Tracey or even Daphne would make of this scene. Would they be horrified at the unbridled lust of Gryffindors, or would they dive into the pile of bodies with enthusiasm?
His eyes found Hermione again. She was still on her back, her legs spread wide. Now Fred was atop her, thrusting into her gently as their tongues wrestled in a sensuous kiss. She moaned, and his cock ached with need. It was time to get some relief.
As if summoned, a lithe body pressed against him a moment later. Saoirse Manson cupped his balls and looked at him with that simultaneously hostile and alluring gaze only she could manage.
"Hey Sassenach. Is yer little cock free to give us a poke?"
"Only if it gets to plunder a Scottish lassie."
She smirked and pulled him away as an amused Cedric watched. She led him toward a bed in the corner of the room. On it he found a pile of girls. Alicia Spinnet was on her back. Livia Tinkerfell was between her legs, doing things with her tongue that made her belly visibly quiver. Alicia, meanwhile, had four fingers shoved inside Molly Beckwith, who was on her knees and riding her hand, her huge breasts heaving as she moaned.
Saoirse pushed him onto his back next to Alicia.
"Tink and I are gone fer good on the morrow," she said. "We need a proper goodbye from the Boy-Who-Lived or The Tri-Wizard Champion or whatever titles yer hidin' 'neath yer bollocks."
"I'm happy to provide one."
She climbed up his body until her pussy was directly in his face. He stared entranced at her little orange bush and the bare pink lips beneath it.
"Hope ye can breathe through yer mouth," she said, and lowered herself.
He suckled on her clit for a moment, grabbing her ass and pulling her to him. She writhed on his face until her arousal coated his lips. Then she pulled away and scooted down his body.
"Here's yer Scottish plunder."
Saoirse squeezed his cock in one hand, rubbing his tip along her wet folds, then slid him home with a contented sigh.
Harry tried to relax and savor the sensation as she began riding him. He loved watching Saoirse's flat, freckled chest heave. His fingers teased her pebbled nipples and her lip curled in satisfaction. She had such a unique natural expression that she would have found many admirers as a model. He would miss seeing her strut around nude, roasting people with insults that she meant half-seriously.
As she rode him leisurely, lost in her own little world, Livia Tinkerfell rose from between Alicia's legs and straddled his chest, blocking his view of Saoirse.
"Hey, Harry," she said with a goofy smile. He'd never seen her so drunk and happy before. Her natural reserve seemed to have gone on holiday.
"Hey, Tink. You look like you're having fun."
"I am. Want to lick my freakish clit one last time?"
"I'd love to."
Tinkerfell raised herself above his face, taking the place that Saoirse had recently vacated. She lowered herself with a grin, exposing her massive clit to him. It extended from her body by more than an inch, huge and gleaming pink amidst her sparse blonde hair.
He took it in his mouth, still impressed with how firm and fleshy it was. It swelled and grew even firmer as he suctioned.
She gasped. "Fuck. Easy."
"Sorry," he said, and gently teased it with his tongue, circling all around before suckling it as if it were a tiny penis.
"Morgana, that feels good."
Harry filled his hands with her ass and pulled her closer, inhaling her wonderfully musky scent and engulfing her clit completely. She moaned and pushed into his face with little thrusts, grabbing hard onto his hair as he kneaded her cheeks.
Between Saoirse riding him and Tinkerfell writhing against his face, his senses felt overwhelmed with pleasure. If only he could forget Voldemort and stay like this forever, he would die a happy man.
Tink finished first. She whimpered as Harry gave her even more suction. He teased the underside of her clit with his tongue until it swelled to immense proportions. The normally quiet girl swore and panted fiercely as she came all over his face. She continued thrusting into him even as she came down.
Saoirse soon followed her into ecstasy. She squeezed Harry with her muscles and began riding him at a feverish pace. He met her thrusts with his own, until their flesh was slapping together and she was violently consuming his cock. She wailed something in Gaelic that he couldn't make out, and her spasming cunt spurred his own orgasm. His abs pulled tight as it welled abruptly from deep within, the force of it taking him by surprise.
He closed his eyes as his cock burst inside her, flooding her with his cum. Over and over he spurted, as if he had been saving it all year as a parting gift.
"Thas' the stuff!" Saoirse cried out. She leaned against Livia's back, laughing and grinding her hips as Harry filled her. "Dead proper feck. Am drooched!"
Alicia burst out laughing as her accent became thicker. Both Manson and Tinkerfell removed themselves from him at the same time, collapsing in a pile onto Alicia and Molly, who had been watching them and giggling drunkenly.
Harry's head was still swimming with the bliss of release, but he couldn't help smiling at the pile of laughing, naked girls. They hadn't a single care in the world, and were just enjoying being young and horny and free from the stresses of life.
That was what the Pride was for, he realized. Forgetting about the outside world for a while and having fun with your friends.
Seemingly beckoned by his thoughts, Katie Bell parted the curtains and jumped onto the pile, eliciting both laughter and cries of pain. She held a half-empty bottle of firewhiskey in her hand, and a mad grin was plastered on her face.
"What's all the commotion?" she asked. "Is this the place to be?"
"Oy! Get yer knee outta me twat, girl," Saoirse yelled. "O' course it's the place to be."
Katie laughed and threw herself on top of Harry, narrowly missing his crotch with her knee. "I want to ride the Potter Express too!"
"Well, there's room for more passengers, Katiebugg."
"Let's get your pistons firing again."
She upended her bottle of firewhiskey directly over his crotch, soaking his softening cock in alcohol. Then she started licking him clean. A second later Leanne Turner appeared next to the bed, took in the scene, and leaned over to help her.
He closed his eyes and smiled.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Harry yawned tiredly as Hermione approached him from the girls' staircase. They were in the alcove above the Pride, less than two hours before the Hogwarts Express departed. He had only gotten five hours of sleep, and desperately wanted to go back to bed. But he had a meeting with Minister Fudge soon, and had no choice but to be awake.
"You wanted to meet me?" he asked. "I'm too tired for one last shag."
She smirked, though she looked just as exhausted as he did. "No. I need to give you a present before we leave. The kind that has to be given in private."
"Should I have gotten you something for the end of the year?"
"No, this is just something to make your stay at the Dursleys more tolerable."
"Ugh, don't remind me."
She handed him a rolled-up piece of white parchment. He unfurled it, uncertain what he was receiving. It was very nice paper, but it was blank.
"What am I looking at here?"
"A picture. You just need the proper password."
"Which is?"
"Hermione Granger is up to no good."
As soon as she spoke the words, an image appeared. It was a detailed black and white drawing, and it was animated.
It featured Hermione. Or rather her nude body. Her legs were spread wide. She was lying on her back on a couch and playing with herself, rubbing her clit in sensuous little circles. Her head was thrown back over the couch, so he could only see her neck and jawline, not her face. Her body had been captured perfectly, as had the details of the Pride's secret room. The animated Hermione suddenly writhed as she rubbed herself through a powerful orgasm.
"Holy shit," he whispered.
She smiled. "I posed for Dean a couple days ago. I paid him 10 galleons to do a rush job. Do you like it?"
"It's bloody amazing."
"I thought it might help you survive the summer. I like the idea of you staring at my body even when I'm not aware of it."
"Merlin, Hermione. I don't know what to say."
"Don't say anything. Just wank to me regularly, and I'll be happy."
He laughed and hugged her. "Thank you."
"When you want it to go blank, just say 'Mischief Managed.' I tried to think of something more clever, but it's best to go with a classic. Don't get caught looking at it around anyone else."
"I won't. How did you figure out how to do this?"
"Lavender asked me to do some research. Dean did some drawings of her too, and she wanted to know how to conceal them. It took some work in the restricted section, but I figured it out."
"You're a genius."
"And don't you forget it."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Harry closed his eyes and tried to catch some rest as the Hogwarts Express sped toward London. He wanted to turn off his mind for a while, but it stubbornly persisted in going over the events of the last few days.
Hermione and Ron were in the compartment with him. Dean and Seamus had recently left to hang out with others. Except for the occasional turning of quidditch magazine pages, the compartment was quiet. There would be time for conversation later during the long trip, when everyone was less exhausted.
Harry would be returning to the Dursleys for two weeks. He hadn't even put up a fight when Dumbledore asked him to do it. Truthfully, he would be relieved to be alone for a while. The Burrow was too raucous for his mood, and it seemed his godfather's place wasn't yet suitable for habitation.
His imprisonment at Privet Drive should be easier than usual. Dobby would be providing his meals, so he would barely have any interaction with the Dursleys. He intended to threaten them with Dobby's wrath if they insisted on making him do chores.
An appointment with Apolline Delacour was in his future, but he didn't know when. She had been very pleased with his decision, and would soon be owling him the details. Dumbledore had resigned himself to it, keeping his promise to abide by Harry's decision. He hoped that attitude would last, just as he hoped he was making the right decision. The idea of having his scar examined by a necromancer made him feel nauseous.
He was even more anxious about what would soon happen with Sirius. His meeting with Fudge had been a success. Sort of. Harry hadn't even attempted to get the man to change his mind about identifying Barty Crouch, Jr. or Voldemort. Instead, he had offered to help rescue the Minister's public image. It was in tatters after the disastrous Quidditch World Cup and the ensuing catastrophes during the Tournament and at the Ministry.
He offered to give a public statement in support of Fudge, including photos, that declared him to be a principled arbiter of justice. His price was a fair trial for Sirius. The man had balked at first, refusing to believe that Sirius could be innocent. Nor did he want to believe that Pettigrew could have been alive. But when Harry reminded him that his godfather had been sentenced by a previous administration, and that he could be perceived as righting the wrongs of his predecessor, Fudge was convinced to consider it. If that hadn't worked, he had been prepared to simply bribe the bastard.
In a few days' time, Sirius would be sitting down with Amelia Bones to provide a written statement and be questioned under veritaserum. If his testimony matched his story, he would be given a public trial. If it didn't, he would be taken into custody immediately. If things went according to plan, he could be free by the end of the summer.
But things rarely went according to plan around Harry, and so he would be waiting on news with anticipation and dread while stuck at the Dursleys.
It felt good to be doing something for his godfather, even if supporting Fudge was distasteful. It felt good to be taking action on the issue of his scar. It was terrifying too. But that's what it meant to be free. He was determined to make his own choices, even if Fate had decided to force him and Voldemort to clash like two silly action figures.
He was pulled out of his sleepy reverie when the compartment door opened. Neville Longbottom poked his head inside.
"Harry, can I speak with you for a minute?"
"Sure."
He exited the cabin and closed the door. There were people further down the corridor, but no one was nearby. Still, Neville looked around nervously.
"What's going on?" Harry asked.
"I heard a rumor. Ron was talking to Seamus about the man who was impersonating Professor Moody. He said—he said it was Barty Crouch, Jr. Is it true?"
"That's what Dumbledore told me. Does that mean something to you?"
Neville closed his eyes. "How could it have been him? He's supposed to have died in Azkaban."
"Er, I don't know, mate. You'd have to ask Dumbledore. But he did say everybody thought the guy was already dead."
"Fuck."
He had never heard Neville curse so viciously. His demeanor went from pale and nervous to almost vibrating with anger.
"What's the matter, Neville?"
"It has to do with—"
"Watch out, Potty," a sneering voice said from down the corridor. "You'll catch some squib disease from Longbottom and end up in St. Mungo's. You need all the strength you can get if you can't fight off old, fat men with daggers."
Harry turned and glared at the approaching Malfoy. As usual, he was bookended by Crabbe and Goyle.
"Fuck off, Malfoy. Nobody asked for your presence."
"Just offering fair warning," the Slytherin boy replied. "It would be terrible if something bad happened to you just because of the pathetic company you keep."
"Leave, Draco," Neville almost growled.
Malfoy snorted contemptuously. "Or, what, Largebottom? Are you—mmph!"
Harry stared in shock as Neville drew back and punched Malfoy in the nose as hard as he could. There was an audible crunch, and he fell to the floor, blood pouring from his nose. Harry drew his wand and pointed it at Goyle's face before he could react.
Neville loomed over the fallen Draco, his face bright red. "Get out of here, before I make you pay for every word you've ever said to me."
Draco had gone pale, and could barely stutter out a response as Crabbe hoisted him from the ground and led him away.
"You'll pay for that, you squib! You'll fucking pay!" he screamed.
Harry observed his roommate with wide eyes. "Holy shit, Neville. You alright?"
"I don't know," he said, looking at his hand. His rage seemed to have deserted him as quickly as it had come. "Thanks for talking to me, Harry. I'll see you around."
He frowned at his retreating back. "Wait, Nev, do you want to join us? What was that about?"
"No thanks. I want to be alone for a bit."
Harry watched him go and then entered his compartment.
"What happened?" Hermione asked groggily. "Did someone scream?"
"Malfoy did. Neville just broke his nose."
"What?!" Ron yelled.
"I swear! Neville was asking me about the fake Professor Moody when Malfoy stopped by for a visit. He taunted him and Neville punched him in the face."
"Merlin," Hermione muttered.
Ron laughed with glee. "I wish I could have seen it! Did he cry?"
"He might be by now. Neville walloped him even harder than Hermione did in third year. He was bleeding everywhere."
Hermione gave the smallest of grins, recalling a happy memory, and closed her eyes again. "Good for him."
"Wanna play some exploding snap, mate?" Ron asked. "You've been napping for an hour. I'm bored out of my mind."
"Sure, why not?"
As Ron retrieved the deck of cards, Harry contemplated Neville's strange behavior. Maybe it was a sign. That things were changing for the better, or that Fate approved of the good guys fighting back.
He decided to believe it was an omen for a good summer. He deserved one for once.