Minister of Magic's office.
Kingsley Shacklebolt sat at his desk with a deep frown creasing his face. He studied the report in his hands, then lifted his eyes.
"Is this true?" he asked.
"The department heads have checked it five times," said his secretary, Lisa Turpin. "There's no mistake. If things keep going the way they have been, then sooner or later, everything will collapse."
Kingsley sighed. He set down the troubling papers, taking a moment to rub his face. It had been a decade since the fall of Voldemort and his rise to the Ministry's highest office. Things had been a wreck back then, but over time, the Ministry recovered slowly but surely. Now, just as he was beginning to eye an early retirement, a new crisis appeared on the horizon.
Even worse, he was a former Auror. Threats that could be cursed and out-dueled were his forte, not insidious ones that crept up from nowhere.
"Can the purebloods really not be convinced?" he asked.
Lisa pushed her glasses up her nose, fixing their position. "The men, I believe, would love to create heirs. However…"
"Spit it out now, Lisa."
"If the results of my research are to be believed, it's the wives, Sir. The husbands simply can't satisfy them."
"Not even once a week?" Kingsley asked, unable to keep his disbelief down.
"Never, Sir. Not even once."
Kingsley rubbed his face again. That solved nothing, though, so he dropped his arms and leaned back in his seat, steepling his fingers.
"The Ministry will step in," he said. "We have to."
"But how, Sir?"
Now that they had come this far, Kingsley didn't hesitate.
"We'll need a new department. They'll be allowed to act with impunity, the fate of the nation is at risk. And the head of it will be—"
O-O-O
Manchester, England.
"Harry Potter!"
The moment Harry stepped into the upscale Muggle restaurant, he was wrapped in a hug by a woman he'd only met a few times prior.
She had a strong grip and was nearly as tall as he was— 5'11" to his 6'1". Some distance away, Harry's wife Ginny Weasley watched with an amused smile. "Having fun there?" she asked. Harry wasn't sure which of them she was talking to.
Her Holyhead Harpies teammate Gwenog Jones disentangled herself from Harry. Gwenog was a fit dark-skinned witch with long braids. Her figure was only accentuated by its muscles, her curves bulging out of the skin-tight white dress she was wearing. Ginny's dress was a dark black one. Both women had done up their hair and makeup, looking stunning.
"Sorry Gin," Gwenog said. "I saw a celebrity and lost my cool."
"Uh-huh," Ginny said. "And I'm sure it had nothing to do with you copping a feel of my handsome husband."
"Of course not," Gwenog said, nonplussed. She turned back to Harry. "On an unrelated note, you've got more muscle than I imagined. Those pecs especially!" Gwenog licked her lips.
Ginny cleared her throat, reminding them that she was still there, but she was smiling. As a waiter led them to a table that had a view out over the city's night skyline, Harry answered the question Gwenog hadn't asked.
"Auror work doesn't let you stay out of shape," Harry said. "Plus I still sneak a game of pickup Quidditch here and there."
"You should join in on a training session some time!" Gwenog said. "I'm sure the rest of the girls would love to have you."
"I wouldn't want to interrupt. I find that my presence in places tends to turn into a distraction."
It was something he'd gotten better at planning his life around. For example, when Ginny wanted to go to dinner with him and a friend from work, he'd learned to pick a nice Muggle establishment. You lost out on some of the Wizarding World's more eccentric dishes, but being able to eat without being interrupted for a dozen autographs was more than worth the trade off. Especially when the friend you were eating with was Britain's most popular Quidditch star.
"I'm sure it would be fine!" Gwenog insisted. "It's important for a team to have fun together from time to time if you want to play well. It would be a nice change of pace to see if you're as good as the rumors say."
The waiter's arrival to take their drink orders put the conversation on pause. Harry ordered a bottle of wine for the table, much to Gwenog's delight. When the Muggle left, Ginny said, "Gwenog has wanted to meet you properly for ages now. I kept promising to set it up, but you're so busy…"
"When people told me about being Head Auror, they used words like 'honor' and 'glory'," Harry said sadly. "They never mentioned that the work doesn't end."
"It must be fulfilling, though," Gwenog said.
"It can be. Most of the time, it's just reading reports and assigning people to catch petty crooks. It gets… monotonous. There's always mountains to get through, too. Sometimes, I forget what the inside of my own house looks like, I'm at the office so much."
He was glad when the wine came. He poured himself a glass, then poured one for the ladies. They all made a toast (wishing for more free time) and drank. Harry and Ginny sipped their drinks. Gwenog downed hers like a pint.
"It tastes better if you nurse it," Harry said.
"That's not how Gwenog drinks," Ginny said, sounding resigned. "When it comes to alcohol, she goes for volume above all else."
"Guilty!" Gwenog said, pouring herself a second drink. "But don't act too innocent, Gin. I saw you after we won the League Cup last year."
Ginny sipped her wine to hide her blush. "That was a special occasion."
"Well, that's the difference between you and me. I make any occasion a special occasion." Gwenog snuck a glance at Harry. "Although tonight might just be extra special."
They ordered their food, Gwenog taking suggestions from Harry and Ginny who were more accustomed to Muggle restaurants. While they waited for their meals, the three of them made small talk. Ginny and Gwenog had an easy kind of banter even though one woman was a good bit older, in her mid-thirties. Harry enjoyed his evening, nursing the wine while Gwenog pounded it. At some point, the conversation took a sharp turn.
Gwenog giggled and suddenly said, "You know, I was voted Britain's most desirable bachelorette by Witch Weekly last month."
"What an honor," Ginny said. "I'm sure that'll go up in the trophy cabinet right in front of your Player of the Season awards."
"It might not be the most glamorous award, but I appreciated it," Gwenog said, shrugging. "It's nice for a girl to know she's still got it. For the record, Harry, you were first on the men's list."
"But I'm not a bachelor," he pointed out.
"Not that list," Gwenog said. "Charlie Weasley won that one. I meant the list of Married Wizards I'd Most Like to Let Ruin Me for a Night."
She dug into a purse next to her on the floor, procuring the copy of Witch Weekly. Sure enough, there was Harry, a photo of him smiling charmingly and waving at the camera underneath the fourteen-word-title Gwenog recited.
"They have lists like this?" Harry asked, his eyes trailing down the nominees. He recognized a few. There was Ron, and even Neville further down from that!
"This list is a fan favorite," Gwenog said. "Every time the issue comes out, it's all the rage. I'm surprised you two haven't heard."
"I did," Ginny said. "I just didn't tell him. No need to make his head even bigger.'
Gwenog giggled. "Fair enough, then. Sorry for spoiling your work."
"S'alright. I'm used to it."
"Why you! Fine. Next match I won't back you up with my Bludgers once, and we'll see whose work is ruining whose!"
Gwenog shook her first at Ginny in mock-anger. She was getting a little bit tipsy, although she handled her alcohol like a proper Briton. Harry was unable to help noticing the way her bust, crammed into its tight dress, jiggled with the faux-aggressive motion.
Ginny saw her husband looking and sipped her alcohol with a smug grin.
"Anyway," Gwenog said, "this is a bit of a special occasion for me as well."
"Because you won that vote?" Harry asked.
"Witch Weekly just got me thinking," Gwenog said. "I thought that maybe I should branch out a little bit with my public image. Quidditch Monthly thought the same. They called me in for a photo shoot, and I agreed."
"I didn't see you in the most recent issue," Harry said.
"It's not out yet. But it's all been edited, and I've got a copy here with me. Do you want to see?"
Harry nodded, although frankly it felt like his answer didn't matter. Gwenog was already reaching into her bag.
"Here you go!" she said. "You can keep that if you want. A copy just for you."
Harry accepted it… and felt his eyebrows climb toward his hairline.
Gwenog Jones was in the center of the cover in a Quidditch locker room. Her trademark beater's bat was propped between her legs— bare legs, to match her bare torso. She had nothing on, her crotch shielded by the flat bat and her hands planted over the nipples of her breasts. Harry's eyes naturally absorbed her curves, admiring the muscles he'd seen hints of beneath her dress. The Gwenog on the magazine winked on repeat every thirty seconds or so for anyone watching.
"It's… eye-catching," Harry said.
Gwenog laughed. "What is, Harry? Ladies like to hear details. What's your favorite part to look at?"
As the real one talked, the Gwenog on the cover noticed Harry. Her eyes widened, and she stopped winking. For a moment she didn't do anything, then she slid her hands down.
Instead of covering her nipples, she pushed up her breasts, trying to make them look as big and juicy as possible. She sank from her bench down onto her knees on the floor, her bat falling away. Nothing was hidden now as she kneeled for Harry, looking up at him and opening her mouth as if begging to be fed.
"Probably that," Harry said dryly.
Gwenog blinked. "They didn't tell me she could do that. Look at her go!"
Her nude version had stuck her tongue out and gone cross eyed as she begged for Harry's attention. Her hands were rubbing circles on her breasts as she showed them off. Harry felt the nice pants he'd squeezed into tighten at the crotch until the seams were straining.
"She looks even better on her knees than the real you, Gwenog," Ginny said, leaning over to get a look from the other side of the table.
"Let's not get carried away here," Gwenog said.
"But it knows how to use its assets so well!"
The Gwenog on the cover had switched tactics as it showed off for Harry. She turned around, bent forward, and spanked one of her glorious glutes.
"I can do that too when I have to!" Gwenog insisted.
"Sure you can," Ginny said.
Growling like a wild animal, Gwenog slammed her palm on the table. "I can prove it! Harry?"
"Yes?" Harry said, pulling his eyes (with difficulty) away from the show he'd been given.
"You be the judge!"
Gwenog ducked under the table.
The restaurant they were in was a nice one with long white tablecloths that reached down to the floor. A moment after Gwenog ducked down, that tablecloth lifted in front of Harry's crotch. Gwenog looked up at him. He could see so far down her cleavage that there were almost nipples involved.
Without a lick of shame, the beauty in her thirties pulled the same expression as her two-dimensional copy, poking her tongue out and looking cross-eyed. She tilted her head to the side, and at the same time, slid off the straps on her dress. Harry had his suspicions when she hugged him, but now they were confirmed. Gwenog wasn't wearing any kind of bra.
She pushed up her breasts, still mimicking her twin from the magazine, basically offering the dark chocolate nubs up to Harry. The bulge in his pants had become a noticeable mound: one that Gwenog was able to keep both pupils on with the how she'd gone cross-eyed.
Harry looked across the table at Ginny, discovering that his wife had foregone her wine glass entirely. She had grabbed the bottle itself as she prepared to enjoy what was coming.
"So?" Ginny prompted. "Does the real one look better?"
Harry looked down at Gwenog, her head cocked and her bare breasts bushed toward him.
"I'd say so, yeah," Harry said, looking back at Ginny.
"Well then, Mr. Judge, make sure she gets her reward." Ginny's brown eyes gleamed. "Show her that you deserved to top your list even more than she deserved to top hers."
With the all-clear given, Harry unbuttoned his pants without hesitation.
He drew the zipper down, Gwenog following it with her eyes all the way. He pushed down his boxers—
His cock exploded out, striking Gwenog's head like a beater's bat cracking a Bludger. Her tongue, which had still been sticking out, suddenly found itself glued to the base of Harry's shaft. Intoxicated by his taste, Gwenog ran it along him. Harry sighed at the delightfully wet and warm feeling.
Gwenog was good with her tongue; a sign of experience. She gave him good licks from base to tip, regularly changing the angle she was coming from. Whenever she took a moment to reorient to a different side, she caressed his prick with her hands, ensuring that he never went a second without her touch.
Eventually Gwenog turned her whole head sideways. Opening up her lips, she wrapped them as far as she could around the front of Harry's shaft, sliding her head up. It was like a moving kiss, and between her lips Harry could feel her tongue flickering over his veins. When she got to his tip she reoriented her head, engulfing his cockhead without pulling back.
Her hands joined her mouth now, both parts of her pleasuring him in tandem. When she pumped her mouth over the top part of him, she twisted her hands beneath that, ensuring no part of his prick was left out. She was still cross-eyed, but now, instead of her pupils looking down, they were aimed up at Harry's face.
"Who was it that ordered the duck souffle?"
Harry jumped slightly in his seat, accidentally forcing his dick a deeper into Gwenog's mouth. His tip hit the back of her throat, causing a slight gag. The waiter had returned with their food while Harry was preoccupied. Luckily, the man was standing on the other side of the table from them, hiding what was going on in Harry's lap.
"That's right here," Ginny said. "The steak is for my husband, and the soup is for our friend who's stepped away."
"Of course," the waiter said.
He looked around briefly with pursed lips, trying to spot where the gagging sound a few seconds ago had come from. Harry shifted the tablecloth to better hide Gwenog. It wasn't necessary in the end, as the man gave up and set their plates down.
By the time the waiter had gone away and Harry returned his attention to Gwenog, the state of her dress had changed. In addition to being pulled down to her waist, the bottom had been hiked up, and one of her hands had left his cock to finger her pussy.
"Did you like almost getting caught?" Harry asked. "Did it excite you, thinking about his judgemental eyes?"
Gwenog nodded with Harry's manhood embedded between her lips.
"Maybe I should flip this tablecloth up, then," Harry said. "I've got nothing to be ashamed about with my body. Everyone would be able to see you. They're just Muggles, they've never heard of Gwenog Jones. All they'd see was a slut on her knees for her friend's husband."
Ginny laughed as she cut into her dish, and Harry looked up at her. "Was that coming on too strong?"
"It was rather cheesy, Dear," Ginny admitted.
"Gwenog liked it, though."
The dark skinned witch was worshipping Harry's cock with greater zeal than ever before. Not only was her head bobbing significantly faster, she was going deeper at the same time, sinking down until Harry's tip pierced her throat on each repetition. She was riding her hand like a broom, using her long fingers to make her pussy sing a staccato song of squelches.
Harry reached down, gathering her braided hair in his hand to help hold it back and keep it out of her face. Spit was escaping her lips, running down his cock and making it glisten. To Harry's left was a stunning vista over the city of Manchester, lights shining like beacons in the dark, but for Harry that was only the second best view he was being treated to. Third, if he counted his lovely wife's smiling face as she ate.
"You've left her at it for quite a while," Ginny said. "Don't you think it's about time that you gave her something for her efforts?"
"S'uppose you're right," Harry said. "Pick how you want it, Gwenog."
The woman had seemed like she was almost in a trance, as drunk off his cock as she had been off the wine. However, she understood him clearly. She stopped sucking him off, allowing Harry's cock to leave her throat and mouth, sticking out her tongue the way she had at the start. She shut her eyes in preparation. The hand she'd had on Harry gave him a few more strokes, then joined its partner between her legs.
She was only left waiting for a few seconds. Harry's semen laid a thick sheet over her face, running down her nose and dripping into her mouth. Gwenog swallowed what she could and basked in the warm wetness of the rest.
"That was some blowjob," Harry admitted.
Ginny aimed her fork at him, a bit of duck hanging off the end. "You better not be thinking about stopping there. I didn't marry a quitter."
"C'mon, Gin," Harry said. "You know me."
In one sharp motion he pulled Gwenog from under the table and tossed her onto top of it. Dishes and silverware flew out of her way of their own volition, leaving Gwenog to land on her knees.
Gwonog's eyes opened wide, cum still across her face and her dress still bunched around her midsection covering nothing that mattered. She looked around the restaurant frantically, awaiting the looks from the other customers… But no one had turned their head.
"He layered the entire table with notice-me-not charms as soon as the waiter left," Ginny said.
"But he didn't even draw his wand!" Gwenog said.
Ginny chewed her latest bite and offered a slightly patronizing smile.
"Gwenog, this is Harry Potter we're talking about. Do you think that's enough to slow him down?"
The realization seemed to settle in for Gwenog. She looked back at Harry, who was stripping without a care in the world inside of a crowded Muggle room, effectively invisible with the help of his magic. But not to her. She watched as the muscles she'd complimented were shown off one at a time. Gwenog slowly lowered her head until her chin was on the table cloth, arching her back as far as it would go. Harry climbed onto the table, his magic strengthening it to keep it from buckling. Gwenog's dress peeled off with a mind of its own, completing the impression that she was an offering for him to receive.
Harry crouched behind her, causing the table to groan. He touched her hips, running teasing fingers along them down to her bum. Goosebumps formed on Gwenog's flesh. Harry's grip tightened gradually enough for her to feel what he was doing long before he had clumps of her dusky arse oozing in between his fingers.
"I should thank you." Harry's voice was calm and casual, as if he wasn't manhandling one of Wizarding Britain's most desirable celebrities. "You got us both so nice and ready. With this, I'd say we've handled all the foreplay we need."
Gwenog shivered beneath him, understanding his meaning. Ginny set aside her fork. She'd cleaned her plate in a hurry to get ready for dessert. Holding their bottle of wine by the neck, she scooted her chair back and spread her legs. Soon her panties were down around one ankle, baring her pussy and its crown of fiery hair.
"Pound her!" Ginny said.
Harry twisted the grip he had on Gwenog's rump, pulling her flesh taut, and sheathed his cock in her snatch.
"Gwaaah!" Gwenog gasped. The crack of Harry's hips against her backside was like a whip. Harry fucked her at a sprinter's pace, but he wasn't even trying yet. By crouching behind her bent figure, he could get all his muscles involved to rock Gwenog's world.
Ginny giggled. "Oh, Harry, if only you could see her face!"
He kind of could, reflected in his wife's eyes. Gwenog's tongue was out and lolling around as her insides were stretched open. Each of Harry's thrusts sent specks of his own semen flying off her face onto the table. If he hadn't been holding her in place by her ass, Gwenog would've already been knocked flat on her stomach.
Even if he couldn't see her face perfectly, Harry could hear the noises she was making. Gwenog sounded like she was being repeatedly hit in the gut with bludgers every few seconds. She was being fucked so hard that she could barely keep up. The reality of having Britain's number one Quidditch idol in this position settled in for Harry, and he briefly let go of one ass cheek to give it a good spank.
Gwenog's curvy bum jiggled for nearly twenty seconds. Her muscular legs were flexing as pleasure gripped her. On the inside, her folds were getting tighter and wetter as her body begged for Harry's release.
Ginny was taking swigs from the wine bottle, uncaring that some of it spilled, running down her chin and staining her dress. Her other hand was masturbating viciously.
"Harry's dick is the best, isn't it?" she gushed. "It's so good that I can't bring myself to hog it. I want everyone to know just how good he is— everyone. If there were a trophy for shagging, it would be his every year. And he's mine. My husband's the best out there."
She chugged the rest of the wine bottle while climaxing on her fingers. When she was done, she tossed aside the wine and pulled her fingers out of her pussy. One hand slick with wine and the other with arousal, she reached out to cradle Gwenog's face.
"We've been close for years, Gwenog, but after this, I feel like we'll really understand each other," Ginny said. "I know that you're always on the potion. So Harry?" Ginny looked up, meeting her husband's eyes. "Cream her."
Harry clenched his teeth and plowed Gwenog even faster. Juices trickled out of her pussy and down his balls, creating dark spots on the white table cloth. Harry used his hold on Gwenog's ass to lift her up until her knees came off the table, changing the angle of his penetration. He erupted in her depths.
His cum flooded Gwenog's womb just like Ginny wanted. The feeling would stick with the famous Beater for the rest of her life— thicker and fiercer than the loads any other lover would ever manage. For just a moment, after Harry set her down again, Gwenog lay bent and unmoving, relishing the feeling and letting her imagination run wild.
The feeling was as intoxicating as an illicit potion. It made her want to come back to him over and over. It made her want to swear off birth control potions forever, until Harry's child was swelling out her stomach. In that moment, such a future sounded preferable even to adding another World Cup to her trophy cabinet.
Gwenog would recover to her normal self later, but for now she was left giggling goofily, cum dripping out of her pussy in hearty strands. Harry observed her for a few seconds with a smile. The position was nothing new; pretty much all the lovers Ginny brought into their bed ended up this way the first time. It was good to see Gwenog was already satisfied… but he wasn't.
Harry extended his hand.
"May I?" he asked.
Ginny stood up. She allowed Harry to pull her up onto the table, not even pausing as her clothes peeled off the same way that Gwenog's had. She was more familiar with her husband's magical might than any other witch on the plant. As Harry scooped her up, gripping her pert arse, she kissed him fiercely. Harry slammed her body down, entering her in a single confident thrust. Ginny's pussy had long since adapted to him, allowing her to take his poundings like no other.
Which was how the husband and wife came to be fucking on the table over the conquered body of Britain's most desirable bachelorette, right in the middle of a crowded restaurant, with none of the other patrons any the wiser.
It served as a good reminder for Harry: when he wasn't spending it trapped behind a mountain of paperwork, his life was really the best.
A shame those times had to so damn rare.