A Fortuitous Arrangement Chapters 13 & 14. (Old Chapters Unlocked For All Patrons!)

Content Warnings: Breeding, Cum Play, Toys, Teasing, Fingering, Multiple Orgasms.

Chapter 13

“People are staring at us.”

“I suppose they have nothing better to do,” Daphne said. She tried to appear unconcerned but couldn’t help tightening her hold around his arm when a fourth-year Hufflepuff smiled at Harry. “The start of term is always slow. You’re the most interesting thing in the castle right now, what with your insanity and hot wife.”

“I am not insane,” Harry got out through gritted teeth. 

“But you do have a hot wife.”

“Sometimes I feel like you’re flirting with her. Or about her.”

“And what if I am?” Daphne challenged. “You can’t flirt about someone. Merlin, I know Muggles don’t place a lot of emphasis on etiquette but I’d have thought they at least taught you proper language.”

“I’m sorry, I was too busy getting my head dunked in toilets to learn anything.”

“That’s your fault, Lord Potter. The Potters I read about would have chopped off your cousin’s balls and fed them to a goat.”

Harry stopped so abruptly that Daphne was yanked back by their intertwined arms. His firm chest broke her fall. Her palms pressed against the rather scratchy cotton of his shirt and it took her a few seconds to muster the will to pull away from him. 

“You read about my family?”

“I’m not stalking you.” The admission didn’t do anything to help the blush on her cheeks. Why she even had to make it, she did not know. “The Potters are a prominent family. A lot of books chronicle their history.”

“I’ve never seen them in any books,” Harry whispered, his voice small and lost. 

“Maybe you’ve been looking in the wrong places. Would you like me to grab some books for you?” Daphne asked kindly.

“I’d love that.”

The smile on his face caused a strange tightness to bloom in her chest. And then his lips curved into a crooked grin and Daphne was convinced her heart was beating so fast it’d burst.

“And stop flirting with my wife.”

“Fat chance,” Daphne snorted. “You can go cavorting with half the women in this castle but Susie can’t get a little side action? Seems unfair.”

“Where do you get all your rumors from?” Harry asked, rolling his eyes. He hopped onto a staircase with her and turned to look at her when it began to carry them to the Atrium. “Because you need to send them to Mungo’s to get their head checked. They’re batshit insane.”

“Are you telling me you didn’t take Romilda Vane’s flower in the library last night?”

“I don’t even know who she is.”

“Pity.” Daphne frowned but her eyes sparkled with barely disguised mischief. “The way she described her orgasm almost convinced me to let you take me as your next conquest.”

“You… I… together?”

“Yep. And then that happened,” Daphne giggled. 

“What happened?” Harry blinked, utterly confused.

“You opened your mouth and I recalled you’re not romantic enough to serenade a frog successfully, let alone me.” Daphne hopped off the staircase and tugged on Harry’s arm, trying to get him off before the staircase began its ascent to the third floor. “And then there’s your less-than-stellar technique with my breasts. I’m not going to abandon my virtue for a man who doesn’t know his way around my bosom.”

“I-what?!” Harry spluttered.

“All you do is grope them, Potter! Kiss, nibble, suck! There’s so much to do and you attack them like a starving man desperate for his next meal,” Daphne said, struggling to keep a straight face. Her voice trembled with suppressed laughter as she continued. “No wonder Susan doesn’t let you around her breasts. That poor girl must be desperate for a decently skilled pair of hands on them.”

“I can satisfy my wife just fine,” Harry growled. He turned to glare at her, only to sigh at the shit-eating grin on her face. “You’re messing with me.”

“I had to do something to pass the time,” she smirked. He was so adorable when he pouted like a sad puppy. He was also bloody adorable when he smiled. He was adorable all-

Daphne mentally grappled with the part of her brain that had recently had its horny awakening and shoved it into a dark corner of her mind. She’d let it out when it was time to flick her bean and not a second early. 

Daydreaming about Harry was an activity earmarked for her bed. Nowhere else. It was dangerous for her to-

Her foot caught on a stone in the courtyard and she stumbled, the fall breaking her train of thought. Harry’s hand pulled her up seconds before her face made contact with the muddy ground. Warm, calloused fingers tightened their grip around her hand.

Fingers that were utterly wasted so far from where they were desired. Her hips. Her thighs. Deep inside her. She wanted to feel everything Susan had described.

There were days she wished she’d never befriended Susan.

“What happened?”

“Bloody nifflers. I bet one escaped from Hagrid’s pen,” Daphne lied as she blew a stray strand of golden hair away from her face. Hell would freeze before she’d tell him the real reason she had stumbled and nearly ended up face-first in a puddle of mud.

“I’d have noticed a niffler,” Harry muttered with a frown. He looked around at the grounds with squinted eyes, trying to locate the escaped creature.

“I highly doubt it. You’re blind to the most obvious things and you think you’d notice a tiny creature poking its head out of the ground?”

“I am not!”

“A more perceptive man would have noticed that Hermione Granger was in love with them and married her by now.”

“She doesn’t love me. We’re just friends-” Harry shook his head “-okay, we’re not just friends. But she doesn’t love me. Love takes time.”

“Hmm. I wonder if five years is enough. She’s loved you for so long that loving you has become second-nature to her. It’s a part of Hermione now. A blind man could see it but you refuse to.”

“Where are we going anyway?” Harry asked.

Daphne rolled her eyes at his transparent attempt to change the subject. Another reason why it was a bad idea to fall for him. Why couldn’t he just accept the obvious? Why couldn’t he just pin her against a tree, wrap his hand around her throat, push three fingers into her cunt and call her-

“Daphne!”

“What!” Daphne snapped, ready to murder the person who’d interrupted her fantasy. Her expression softened when her eyes focused on Harry’s hurt face. 

“Sorry,” she murmured. “I’ve had a rough day.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

There it was again. That stupidly gorgeous smile. Those warm eyes. The eagerness with which he was ready to protect her, even if it was from her own feelings.

Yes, she thought, resisting the urge to fling herself at him. Stop being so perfect.

When she tried to voice her thoughts, she realized her tongue wouldn’t cooperate. 

“Murder Malfoy?” she deflected. 

“How about I ask the Twins to prank him every day for a week instead?”

“An entirely unacceptable compromise but I suppose I can live with it. It’s a good starting point.”

Harry chuckled. He looped his arm through hers again and resumed their trek down to the lake.

“What would I do without you, Daphne Greengrass?”

She knew it was rhetorical but she couldn’t help herself.

“You’ll never have to find out.”

“No?”

“No.”

“What if this ‘perfect’ husband your parents are finding for you objects to our friendship?”

“He won’t. He’ll treat me properly if he knows what’s good for him.”

“And if he doesn’t,” Harry lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “tell me so I can send Susan around to your house.”

“I know powerful people. Dangerous people. Unsavory characters. But no one terrifies me as much as Susan when someone disrespects her home. She’d disembowel my husband if she suspects my marriage is unhappy because of him.”

“Exactly.”

“Turn right. We need to go to the oak tree in the hidden grove. It’s right behind that clump of trees,” Daphne instructed, pointing out an inconspicuous patch of the Forbidden Forest to their left.

“Is this something dangerous?” Harry asked.

His tone was light but she couldn’t help but notice his free hand had disappeared into his pocket.

“No. We’re just meeting a friend. You don’t need your wand.”

Harry relaxed but didn’t remove his hand from his pocket. They walked across the empty castle ground, reaching the edge of the Forbidden Forest within minutes. It was a miserable day, with gray clouds crowding in the sky and blocking the sun. Downcast, rainy, and cold. 

The perfect metaphor for the current state of her life.

They made the short journey through the thicket in silence. The clearing was small and a massive oak tree dominated its center. Snog-alley, that’s what Slytherins called the space. She had never had the privilege of taking advantage of its seclusion. 

“Snog-alley? Really?” Flora asked the minute they entered the clearing. The black-haired girl was sitting cross-legged at the base of the oak tree, sketching away in a little book with a piece of charcoal. Her fingers were covered in a layer of black and she had a smudge on her left cheek. She rubbed it absentmindedly, transforming the smudge from a spot to something that covered her pale cheek. 

“Sorry,” Daphne shrugged apologetically. “It was the only place I could think of. You said you didn’t want to risk being seen.”

“And what if someone comes here?”

“It’s cold and miserable. It’ll probably rain soon. Nobody is coming here for a snog today.”

“I guess,” Flora shrugged. Her gaze flitted between Harry and Daphne, unabashedly studying both. 

Daphne became acutely aware of Flora’s attention on their enjoined hands. She blushed and extricated herself from Harry, walking over to the stone ledge that overlooked the lake to avoid Flora’s gaze.

“Did you kill Diggory?” Flora asked bluntly.

“What?” Harry narrowed his eyes. “No. Daphne, I thought you said we were meeting a friend.”

“We are. She is. Flora’s blunt. I mean, she’s best friends with Lovegood for Morgana’s sake.”

“Why is that a bad thing?” Flora asked with narrowed eyes. 

“It isn’t. But you’ve picked up a few bad habits from her. There’s some value to tact and propriety in a conversation.” Daphne picked up a stone and weighed it in her hand. “I’m not saying you have to be a paragon of diplomacy but you don’t open a conversation with a question about murder. That’s third-date material.”

“You sound like my sister,” Flora scowled. “I’m not here to date Potter.”

Daphne glanced at the sky, begging the powers that be to give her strength. 

“It’s a joke-” Daphne waved her hand “-never mind. No, Harry did not murder Diggory.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you ask me?” Harry frowned. She reminded him of Luna but with none of the innocence and twice the intensity. 

“Grandfather always told us that one can judge whether a person has what it takes to kill someone if you look at their eyes. I had to see for myself. That’s why I asked.” Flora added the finishing touches to the unicorn. “You don’t have the eyes of a killer.”

No, Daphne thought, angrily skipping the stone across the water. It skipped two times before miserably sinking to the sandy bottom of the lake. He has ridiculous fuck-me eyes.

The prettiest, most perfect fuck-me eyes in the world. Perhaps there was some merit to Luna’s insane suggestion of getting rid of knickers around him. 

She wondered if there was a limit to the amount of arousal her body could produce. The wetness between her thighs couldn’t be normal. Her underwear was drenched, with a big wet spot that was growing with every passing minute. The sticky arousal clung to her skin and slowly trickled down her legs. 

“Are you trying to ensure I’m not a killer too?” Harry asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Daphne blushed and averted her eyes, realizing she had held his gaze for far longer than could be considered normal. 

“No,” she muttered, retreating to the safety of her old friends, bluster and sarcasm. “Then I’d know for sure that you’re not capable of homicide. Never get to truly know your friends, a wise man once said. They’ll always be a disappointment.”

“We’re friends, are we?”

“I don’t come to your apartment every day just for your wife’s stellar cooking, Potter.” 

I come there because I’m an emotional masochist. 

“She is one of few people in the castle who has always been nice to Luna,” Flora murmured. She blew on the page to scatter the excess soot. “Susan always helps her find her stolen stuff when I’m not around. My sister calls her Sugar Bones.”

“That’s… sweet.”

“Trust me,” Daphne muttered with a shake of her head. “Not a compliment. Hestia combines the best of me and the worst of Parkinson in one mean little package.”

“You’re not as devious as she is,” Flora countered. She tore off the page and held it out for Daphne, gently shaking it until it was accepted. “I suspect it’s your sense of empathy. You can’t be as cruel as she can.” 

She picked up the charcoal and began a new sketch. 

“Flora’s convinced I have a pesky thing called morals keeping me in check.”

“It’s true. My sister would never have helped rivals competing for my lovers’ affection. It’s nice that you try to be friends with Susan even though Harry favors her over you.”

“You weren’t kidding. She is blunt,” Harry whispered.

Daphne ignored Harry.

“L-lovers?” she spluttered, staring at Flora with wide eyes and pink cheeks. “We are not lovers. My virtue is intact. It will remain that way until my parents find me a suitable husband.”

“Oh. You touch each other like you’re lovers.”

Daphne’s blush darkened.

“We’re not lovers, Flora,” Harry said with a disarming smile. “She’s made it clear I’m not good enough for her.”

More like you’re too good for me. 

Her peculiar mixture of self-loathing and melancholy returned with a vengeance. 

“I think you’re a catch, Harry Potter. I wouldn’t feel too bad. Relationships are like candy. Everyone has different preferences.” 

And my preference is Harry fucking Potter! 

“I can see why you and Luna get along,” Harry chuckled. He took a step back when Flora carefully set her sketchbook and pencil on her satchel and got on her knees, extending her right hand towards him.

“I was doubtful when she made the suggestion but I think she’s right.” Flora turned her hand and opened her fist so her open palm faced the sky. “I formally ask for protection, Lord Potter.”

“Uh-“ Harry took another step backward. “I’m honored, I really am. But I’m still settling down with Susan and trying to figure out what’s going on with Hermione-”

“She’s not proposing marriage, dingus,” Daphne muttered. She took great comfort in knowing that underneath all that hotness, the man she wanted was an adorable dork. She hoped he never changed. “She’s formally asking House Potter for protection.”

“Eh?”

“Sorry to spring this on you but Flora got the letter this morning and we need to act fast. There was no time to talk this over with you.”

“I have no idea what’s going on,” Harry said blankly. 

“Their parents want them to join the Death Eaters over Christmas. Hestia agrees.”

“You don’t?”

“If I wish to follow a man, it will be one of my own choosing,” Flora answered. 

“She needs a way out. Her parents evicting her and leaving her to fend for herself on her refusal to join is the best case scenario.” 

“The Dark Lord is struggling to find recruits. Daphne’s father’s efforts to hold undecideds in check have been quite effective,” Flora said. “He daren’t show himself and his most feared supporters are in prison. He will not take a refusal to serve lightly.”

“Which means, worst case scenario-” Daphne mimed getting her head chopped off with a finger. “She needs help. Protection.”

“I wouldn’t last long on my own.”

“How can you be so calm about this?”

“I’m doing everything I can to better my situation,” Flora said, peering up at Harry with guileless purple eyes. “Worrying about what I can’t change helps no one.”

Perhaps there was some truth to what people said. Combining Hestia’s ruthless deviousness and Flora’s ability for cold, detached reasoning in a single person would make them too powerful and terrible, which was why Fate had created the Carrow twins.

“Would showing visible fear increase your chances of accepting my request for protection? I am not a very good actress but I have picked up a few tricks from my sister over the years.”

“You don’t have to pretend, Flora. If I accept… what does it mean?”

“Your acceptance signifies that House Potter has extended its patronage to Flora. An attack on her is equivalent to an attack on you and your House.”

“How does this help Flora when Voldemort already wants to kill me?”

Both girls shuddered at his usage of the name.

“The Dark Lord wants to kill you, yes. But Flora thinks he’s instructed everyone in Hogwarts to leave you alone. She’s got a point. Has Malfoy ever been this docile? He’ll spew venom when friendly teachers are around but he goes out of his way to avoid you outside class.”

“They won’t have the same restraint when it comes to me.”

“Don’t reply?” Harry suggested. “It’s not like he can come down to Hogwarts and force you to take the mark.”

“Not replying is equivalent to a refusal. He doesn’t have to come to Hogwarts, he already has enough people here willing to do his dirty work to suck up to him,” Daphne explained. “If she’s under your protection an attack on her is an attack on you. They won’t dare to do that because none of them want to displease their master. A lot of their parents are already on thin ice because they disavowed him after his fall at the end of the last war.”

“What does it mean for Flora?”

“In simple terms? She owes you. Within reason. Think about it as someone working for you. Instead of giving them money, you offer them protection.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“It’s not. It happened all the time in the magical world until You-Know-Who came onto the scene and mucked it up with his perversion of the patronage system.”

“Do I have to make Flora work for me if I accept it?”

“Nope. Her obligation to you can be something as simple as attending a Christmas party every year. I’d recommend hanging out with her often though. People need to know you’re serious about your patronage.”

Harry took a deep breath and nodded.

“What do I need to do to accept?”

“Take out your wand, tap her palm, and say you accept.”

Harry did as instructed. On his acceptance of Flora’s request her hand glowed for a second before going back to normal. 

“Thank you. If you need my help with anything, please let me know.” Flora got to her feet and stood on tiptoes to kiss Harry’s cheek. “And she doesn’t think you’re not good enough for her. She’s just scared,” Flora whispered.

It was loud enough for Daphne to hear, which she knew was probably intentional. 

“I have to go to class now but we can be partners in Charms if you’d like?”

Harry nodded. He bent and helped Flora pack her satchel, leaving Daphne alone with her thoughts. By the time she noticed him reaching for her arm, it was too late. She yanked her arm away the minute his fingers made contact with it, unable to help the pained yelp that escaped her lips.

Harry immediately withdrew his hand. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked with a frown.

“Nothing,” she lied, breathing heavily. She winced as she rotated her arm. “Just a little sprain I got while flying with Trace.”

“You used to be a better liar.”

“You used to be less of an asshole when you were terrified of me.”

“Daphne.” Harry planted himself in front of her and refused to move. “What happened?”

“Malfoy got a new toy. He called it the Hand of Glory. King Twat was showing it around in the Common Room last night. I wasn’t impressed, he offered to give a demonstration of it’s power. Dumped an entire ball of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder in the room and tried to intimidate me.” Daphne rolled her eyes. “The candle in it burns worse then fiendfyre.”

“Take off your shirt. Let me have a look.”

Was he insane? 

“You want me to-” Daphne cocked her head, unable to believe what she was hearing. “Let me get this straight. You want me to get naked for you. In Snog-alley. You want me to strip for you in Snog-alley.”

“Just your shirt! Or let me tear off the arm so I can take a look at your burns.”

“Are you a healer?”

“Did you go see one?” Harry shot back. 

“No,” Daphne admitted. She couldn’t lie to him. Not when it mattered. “I didn’t want Malfoy to get the satisfaction knowing his mind games got to me.”

“Well, I have burn salve.” Harry dug into the pocket of his jersey and dug out a small tub of salve the color of burnt orange. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“As if you’d ever snitch on me. You care about me too much.” A hint of smugness crept into her voice. “Well, I’m not letting you rip this blouse. I got it specially tailored using muga silk to protect my skin.”

She ripped her green and silver tie from around her neck and dropped it to the ground. 

“Can’t believe I’m giving a man a striptease in Snog-Alley.”

“It’s hardly a striptease,” Harry said but she couldn’t help but notice he didn’t take his eyes off her hands as she unbuttoned her blouse.

“Why can’t you just live in the fantasy, Potter? This might be the only striptease you get in your life.” She slipped out of her blouse, carefully folded it, and placed it on a rock by the oak tree.

“You’re wearing a tank top. Why were you acting like you were naked underneath that blouse?”

“I’m never going to make life easy for you, Potter,” she grinned as she turned to face him. Her smirk widened at the slightly agog expression on his face. He was staring at the form-fitting black tank top that she’d bought for precisely that reason. It hugged her curves and flattered her slightly bottom-heavy form. 

“Why don’t you, uh, why don’t you sit down?”

Daphne gave him an angelic smile and shuffled to sit cross-legged under the oak tree. She couldn’t help her desire to show off, spurred on by his reaction to her body. She leaned against the trunk of the tree and carefully arched her back the slightest bit, making the breasts he was so enamored with pop out. While not her best feature (she considered that to be her ass), they were nonetheless a good handful.

Harry walked towards her in a daze and sat down to her left, next to the arm she had successfully kept him away from all day. The sight of the ugly burns marring her pale skin shattered her hold on him.

“I’m going to kill him,” Harry muttered. He unscrewed the lid off the jar of salve and began to carefully dab it on her burns. 

“I don’t need you to protect me,” Daphne got out through clenched teeth. Harry’s paste burned just as badly as the original burn had but she wasn’t about to show weakness in front of him. “I can take care of myself. I always have.”

“Half an hour ago you were asking me to kill him.” 

Harry made her raise her arm and rest it on his shoulder. He scooted closer to her to more easily cover the burns on the underside of her arms and the sheer proximity hurt more than the burns ever would. 

“That was a favor to a friend. You don’t need to be a knight-in-shining armor because I am no damsel in bloody distress.”

“How about I be the damsel in distress and you kill him for me so I don’t have to do DADA and Potions with him anymore?” 

Daphne chuckled and ignored the sudden tightness in her chest. Why was he so perfect? Why did she have to be the elder Greengrass?

She refused to fob off her responsibility on Astoria, no matter the personal cost. 

“Why do you have burn salve?”

“I grabbed some when you said you wanted to go on a walk. I bought it for the team and planned to keep it in the lockers on our way back.”

“And now I’m using it all,” she said. She turned her head and smiled at the sight of him carefully covering every mark with the orange paste. “How will your team ever survive?”

“Broom burns are no joke. Our fingers are a complete mess sometimes.”

“The smart move would be to stop playing before you die. Fracture bones, disappeared bones, burns. What’s next?”

“I’d much rather die on my terms than Voldemort’s.”

She didn’t flinch. She levelled a gaze at him and refused to look away. 

“You won’t die.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. I always get what I want, Potter, and what I want is for you to stay alive.”

“All done.” Harry released her arm and pulled away from her. Once he had carefully secured the lid on the jar of the burn paste, he tossed it to her. “Keep it. Apply it twice a day. It’s a very weak salve and it was not meant for serious burns.”

“I’m not a child.” Daphne grabbed her blouse off the rock and busied herself with it to avoid the conflicting mess of feelings blooming inside her. “I told you, I know how to take care of myself.”

“Maybe it makes me feel good,” Harry smiled. “I’ve spent my entire life looking after an ungrateful family. That’s all I know, how to take care of people. At least now when I do it I get a smile and a kiss instead of a beating.”

“I’m not kissing you, Potter.”

“What about a smile?”

Daphne tried, oh, she tried so hard not to give in. She couldn’t help herself. She gave him a shy grin and ducked her head to hide the pink blooming on her cheeks. She concentrated on securing her tie around her neck, unable to look him in the eye.

“You’re unbearably overbearing, Potter,” Daphne said when she looked up and saw him standing in front of her, hand extended to help her to her feet. “Does Susan find this charming?”

“Susan likes it when we act as husband and wife, yes,” Harry rolled his eyes. “Will you murder your husband when you get married and he does all of this and more?”

“Pureblood men have the good sense not to dote on their wives every second of every day.”

“Pity.” 

Pity indeed. 

Harry locked his arm around her uninjured one and they walked out of Snog-alley and across the castle grounds without running into a single person. 

“Do you really think my husband will care enough to be the way you are with Susan?”

“If he doesn’t, send him around to us. Susan and I will knock some sense into him.”

“Why do you care so much?”

She tugged on his arm and made go around the puddle she had almost tripped into on their way down to the lake. The courtyard was bustling with students and she knew the few moments of quiet she had enjoyed with him were now at an end. 

“Because that’s what friends do. That’s what we are, are we not? Friends?”

“Friends,” Daphne agreed dully.

“There’s a reason I prefer the shadows, Madam Bones.” Cyrus ran a finger along the rim of the goblet. He stared into the clear liquid inside. His father always told him not to act until a matter was as clear to him as Cymmerian vodka. “What you’re proposing is dangerous to a House on its last legs.”

“I look around and see a prosperous and thriving estate, Lord Greengrass.”

“The estate is meaningless without the people inside. I am the last of the Greengrass line. I have two daughters to succeed me, yes, but no one else remains. The Greengrass line ends with me and Daphne.”

“And Astoria.”

“Astoria has a delicate constitution. We would not force her to have a child even to save our House. For the purpose of this discussion consider I only have one heir.”

“Then it appears we are in a similar boat. I, too, only have one heir. The Bones line ends with me and Susan. Here I am, willing to act.”

“Ideals,” Cyrus chuckled. “They blind you to obvious danger and clear reality.”

“I could say the same thing applies to you, Lord Greengrass,” Sirius said hoarsely. He picked up his glass for a sip of warming firewhiskey.

“I am being supremely pragmatic, Lord Black.”

“If you were being supremely pragmatic, you’d have bent the knee to Voldemort the minute he asked you to join him. It ensures the continuation of your line,” Sirius murmured. He ignored their shudders and continued, “But at what cost? What life would that be for your children? There’s nothing you wouldn’t do for them. Even now, you hesitate because you’re afraid of their safety.”

“You’d understand if you were a parent, Lord Black.”

“You’re right. I am a shit parent,” Sirius said with a bitter smile. “I should have pushed harder for Harry. I could have saved him so much misery and pain. Learn from my mistakes. What kind of world do you want your children to live in? Do you think that man will respect your wishes for Astoria if he wins? He wants to run a Pureblood breeding program to increase our numbers. He’ll hand your girl over to some bastard.”

“I don’t like being emotionally blackmailed, Lord Black,” Cyrus said coldly.

“You know it’s the truth.”

Cyrus bowed his head in acceptance. 

“I’d still like some security for my heir and my lineage before I do anything. After all, both of you ensured just as much before publicly moving against the Minister,” Cyrus murmured. His father was right. The matter at hand was slowly getting to be as clear as Cymmerian vodka and soon it would be time to act.

“What do you have in mind?”

“I’d be more than happy with a similar deal.”

Chapter 14

Flora’s integration into his rapidly growing circle of friends was remarkably uneventful. Susan was already acquainted with her and Hermione found her unique outlook on the world charming. Only Ron seemed disconcerted by the extremely blunt girl but his best friend found something new to complain about daily. Harry brushed off most of his concerns.

The biggest surprise had been the Twins. They’d taken great delight in taking Flora under their wing as their protégé. Within a week she had learned how to enter and exit offices undetected and set up dungbomb traps. He had no idea what that particular friendship would lead to and he tried not to think about it.

“Are you going out with the Twins after the party tonight?” Harry asked as he walked out of the classroom with Hermione and Flora. He reached out and grabbed his girlfriend’s hand. She blushed but shyly interlaced their fingers together. His thumb immediately found the back of her hand and began to rub circles onto her soft skin. The proximity was soothing. She was soothing.

Merlin, he had been a fool. 

“We are testing George’s new laxative éclairs. You’re welcome to join us,” Flora answered.

“Another day, Flora,” Hermione interjected before he could speak. “He has to practice and work on his Charms assignment. You need an E in your Charms OWLs if you want to be an Auror.”

“One night won’t matter. Pretty please?” Harry asked, playfully batting his eyelashes at Hermione.

“That’s what you’ve said every night of the week. You’re staying in and finishing your assignment tonight, mister.”

“Does that mean we’re not going to the party?”

“Nope. Should’ve paid attention in class if you wanted to go, babe.”

“It’s not my fault you’re so distracting,” Harry whispered. He squeezed her hand and pulled her closer. “Do we at least get to continue our lessons?”

Hermione bit her lip and nodded. 

“What’s sex like?”

“Uh… why do you ask, Flora?” Hermione asked with a nervous chuckle. “It’s alright, I guess.”

“Alright?!”

“Hush, you,” she murmured, patting his arm. “It’s great but I like the other parts of our relationship better.”

Harry grinned. He knew exactly what she was talking about.

The rules. The rituals. Their deliciously hedonistic dynamic.

“Well, I was saving myself for marriage but since that’s no longer a concern I have drawn up a list of qualities for an acceptable sexual partner. I was wondering if it’s worth the effort to search for one that fits the criteria. Luna says it’s like candy but I would not work this hard to find the perfect candy.”

“You’re quite right.”

Hermione looked at Harry in surprise. 

“What?” he shrugged. “If she’s just looking for a sexual experience, all that effort isn’t worth it. She didn’t say she wanted a relationship.”

“I do not. A boyfriend sounds like a lot of work.” Flora scrunched her nose. “Men are needy and do not respect your personal space. Justin refuses to leave Padma alone even after she broke up with him.”

“They are,” Hermione agreed, looking at Harry with a devious smile. “Justin is an ass, Flora.”

“Not all of them,” Harry grumbled. “Only some of them are like Justin.”

Flora hummed in acceptance.

“I suppose Neville is quite good with Luna. She was telling me last night about this thing he does with his tongue that feels divine.” 

“I did not have Neville Longbottom, sex god on my bingo card for this year,” Harry murmured under his breath. 

Hermione giggled and slapped his arm. She rested her head on his shoulder once they’d hopped onto the staircase that would carry them onto the seventh floor, where they would part ways. He would make his way to Divination, and she and Flora to Arithmancy.

“Do you want my advice, Flora?” Hermione asked as they hopped off the staircase. They turned around the corner to the hallway that led to the Arithmancy classroom and Trelawney’s attic as a group.

“Yes, please.”

“Don’t rush it. You’ll find your Neville eventually.”

“Luna did say I could join them whenever I wanted,” Flora murmured thoughtfully. 

“That trumped-up half-squib is all you’re good for, sister,” Hestia sneered. “You no longer have a family name. What decent man would take you? Go on your knees and beg him to take you.”

Harry tore his eyes away from Hermione and sighed at the sight of Hestia Carrow, Pansy Parkinson, and Millicent Bulstrode blocking the corridor.

“Ladies. As riveting as a discussion of Flora’s marriage prospects would be, we are late for class.” Hermione’s voice was calm but Harry noticed her hand had disappeared into her cloak.

His free hand was wrapped around his wand and he gently disentangled his hand from hers to give them both greater range of movement in a potential fight. 

“Go ahead.” Hestia gestured and Millicent stepped behind her, making space for them to squeeze through to the other end. “I want a word with my sister. This doesn’t concern you.”

“If it concerns your sister it concerns me. Her business is my business.”

Daphne had taught him well. 

“The traitor, the mudblood, and the orphan. Makes sense that you’d rebuild a dead family with the dregs of society, Potter.”

Hestia pulled out her wand but Harry was quicker. A quick Expelliarmus sent her wand flying out of her hand. It arced over her head and landed on the stone floor with a quiet thump. 

“I don’t want any trouble,” Harry murmured, training his wand on Hestia. He’d just finished his detentions with Umbridge and had no desire to go back to that vile office. “We’ll be going to class now.”

“Hem, hem.”

Harry resisted the urge to fling himself out of the nearest window. Surely his luck could not be this rotten.

Was she the devil? Had he accidentally summoned her?

“Attacking a defenceless student, Mister Potter?”

Hermione whirled around and glared at their professor, something so out of character for her that even Umbridge was taken aback for a second.

“You just heard him say he didn’t want any trouble!” she said furiously.

“Mister Potter is pointing his wand at Miss Carrow. The evidence is clear. Detention for a month, Mister Potter. My office, same time.”

“But-”

Harry grabbed Hermione’s hand and started to drag her away before she could say anything that earned her detention as well. 

“She can’t do this,” Hermione muttered as she looked over her shoulder to glare at the retreating figure of the three girls walking down the hallway with Umbridge.

“She can. And she’ll do the same to you. New rule, you’re not allowed to do anything to piss off Umbridge.”

“But-”

“Miss Granger.”

“Yes, professor,” Hermione said meekly as Flora watched them with growing curiosity. She leaned up on her toes and kissed Harry’s cheek. “See you soon.”

He stood in the hallway until the girls had walked into the Arithmancy classroom, then reluctantly walked down the corridor to spend an hour with the world’s most disturbing recluse.

Harry slipped into the quiet and dark apartment. The curtains were drawn and the few candles that still remained lit cast long shadows on the stone walls. He decided to get the fireplace going once it was closer to five. The atmosphere matched his inner turmoil and he was more than content to just sit in the dark and stew until Hermione was done with Ancient Runes. The fact that Trelawney had predicted a gruesome year for him hadn’t helped his already horrible day. With Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Divination all on a single day, Fridays were a recipe for disaster. His cloak and tie were shed the minute he stepped into the apartment. He flopped onto the armchair by the dead fireplace and wondered if Professor McGonagall would let him shuffle his schedule a little. 

He didn’t know where Susan was. Hopefully out with her old friends from Hufflepuff. He still felt guilty about forcing her to be a shut-in all summer. She’d told him it was a price she had happily paid but he wasn’t going to let their marriage be the reason she didn’t have the reason she deserved.

He sighed.

He wasn’t in the mood to do anything except get some butterbeer and stare at the melting candles until Hermione finished her class. He knew the Twins were throwing a party in the Common Room and he had promised to work on his Charms assignment but he wondered how open she’d be to the idea of spending some time with him in Hogsmeade instead. 

He mustered up the will to push himself to his feet and padded over to the kitchen. Before he could get to the cooler, however, a piece of parchment on the table caught his eye. Hermione’s neat handwriting was barely legible in the dim candlelight. He picked it up and brought it closer until the parchment brushed against his nose and the dim light was no longer an impediment to reading.

I’m sorry for what happened today. Umbridge is an arse. To take your mind off your horrible, no-good day I’ve left you a gift in the bedroom. Have fun with it until I get back, then you, me, and Susie can go unwind at the party.

~ Yours, Now and Always

Hermione xoxo 

Harry chuckled. That was just like her. Even with her busy schedule, she managed to take care of him. 

“You are a lucky man,” he said to his reflection on a spoon. He knew the gift was probably a book that listed out the legal ways he could rebel against Umbridge and stop earning detentions. 

It isn’t the gift itself that is important, he reminded himself. 

All thoughts of a drink forgotten, he made his way to the bedroom. The door was ajar and he could see the room was just as dark as the rest of the house. Not that it mattered. Most of his foul mood had evaporated the second he had read Hermione’s note. He decided to light the fireplace and crawl into bed with the book she’d left for him while he waited for Hermione, Susan, or both to get back. 

She hadn’t left him a book. 

Their bedsheets had been replaced, changed from light blue to white with rose petals arranged on it in the shape of a green heart that perfectly complemented the red in Susan’s hair. His wife was on the bed, her long, waist-length open hair flaring out like a perfect halo around her head and tumbling down her back in waves. She was blindfolded and had a small cloth stuffed into her mouth. It was not big enough to make breathing difficult but it certainly made talking all but impossible. 

Her shapely legs were bent at the waist and kept in place by her arms that wrapped around her calves with her wrists bound to her ankles using red satin ribbon. Her puffy lips gleamed in the dim candlelight; rosy, slick, and impossible to resist. 

Harry paused by the door, taking a moment to admire her breathtaking beauty. She was nothing short of divine and it was moments like these that convinced him he was dreaming. Nothing… no one in real life could be this perfect.

He walked over to the bed and climbed on it. The mattress creaked under his weight but she did not move a single muscle, soundlessly awaiting him to claim him. 

“Such a good girl,” Harry whispered, caressing her cheek with a finger. He chuckled when she wiggled and hummed with contentment. “Are you my gift?” he asked, pulling the cloth gag out of her mouth.

“Yes, my lord. Do you like it?” Susan asked. She stayed as still as she humanly could. 

“I presume this is Hermione’s doing?” Harry settled in between her spread legs and studied her slick pussy with a hungry expression. Hermione had done much more than just tie Susan up, it seemed.

“Yes. She decided we needed to give you a present for surviving today.” 

“Mhm.” Harry turned and slowly kissed his way up Susan’s slick thigh. His tongue darted out ever so often and dragged across her soft skin to lap up her arousal, eliciting a needy whimper from the redhead. “I’m going to have a bad day every Friday.”

“I-I am sure a suitable gift can be arranged every week, sir,” Susan gasped.

He hummed and kept kissing until he reached her slick folds. He kissed her lips and withdrew, leaving her squirming.

“Why are you here, Susan?”

“I’m a gift for my lord husband,” she answered, breathing heavily. The stiff rosy nubs crowning her breasts quivered with every breath.

Harry reluctantly tore his eyes away from them and reached out to caress her cheek with the back of his hand.

“I’m not putting my needs ahead of yours, angel. I’m going to untie you and you’re going to spend some time with your friends, okay?”

“Hannah canceled on us,” Susan pouted. “Seamus finally asked her out and she decided to go to Puddifoot’s with him instead of spending time with us.”

“And you’re sure this is what you want to do instead?”

“Harry.” Her voice was soft. She only used his name when she wanted to remind him she was more than his wife. She was his partner, his confidant, his best friend. “I’m not here because Hermione tied me up.” She paused and giggled. “Well, I guess am. I’m not even here because you’ve had a bad day. Hermione was more than happy to skip class and be your gift herself. I’m here because I love spending time with the man I love.”

Harry crawled over her and bent to capture her lips in a slow, sensual kiss. Their tongues dueled for what felt like an eternity before his burning lungs forced them apart.

“You’re perfect. What can I do for you, love?” Harry whispered hoarsely.

“Give me your seed?” Susan asked, her voice filled with visceral need. “It’s been three days since I’ve had any, sir.”

“Has it really been that long?” Harry asked, faking surprise. Susan had been his partner in Hermione’s ‘education’ which meant very little time to themselves. “My, we can’t have that. Where do you want my cum, sweet girl?” Harry grabbed her chin and turned her head in his direction. His hand disappeared between her spread legs and caressed her cleft in long, lazy strokes. “Do you want it in here?”

“Yes! Yes, please!”

“Hmm. And why should I give it to you?”

Susan moaned as two calloused fingers probed her tight pussy. They slowly pushed inside her, her arousal easing their way as they plunged deeper and deeper with every stroke. A guttural shriek escaped her lips when his thumb found her clit. 

She was a pleasure princess. Being denied for three days was probably the worst punishment he could have given her, even if it was a complete accident.

“I-” Susan tried to formulate a sentence but gave up in favor of needy moans when a third finger joined its brethren inside her. He pumped in and out of her in slow, lazy strokes. Every thrust elicited a moan that he savored before he pulled out of her and repeated the process all over again. 

“Please,” she begged.

“Why?”

“W-we need an heir!”

“Why, Susie?”

“It’s been so long…” Susan sobbed, her body shaking with her impending orgasm. Harry scissored his fingers inside her and she screamed, the dull ache of her stretched walls elevating her pleasure to unimaginable levels.

“Why do you want it? What are you?”

“Because I’m your cute cumslut AND CUTE CUMSLUTS NEED THEIR HUSBAND’S CUM, SIR,” Susan screamed as she rode out her orgasm.

She was a vision, his bound goddess. Harry reached out with his free hand and pulled off her blindfold. Innocent blue eyes peered shyly up at him through eyelashes, contrasting perfectly with her pink cheeks and maroon curls. Her creamy mounds wobbled with every shuddered breath. He reached out and traced the curve of her breast with a finger, drawing a surprised gasp from her. She bucked her hips the second he pulled his fingers out of her.

“Thank you, sir,” she whispered sweetly.

“No more talking,” Harry murmured. He picked up the rag and cleaned his drenched fingers with it. He pushed the sweet-smelling cloth between her lips, chuckling at her groan. 

“Nhot the chum I whanted!” Susan groaned as the taste of her tangy arousal filled her mouth.

“Patience, sweet girl.” Harry kissed her knee and pulled away from her. He untied her legs, gently laying them on the bed.

“Hermionhe-”

“She had her fun. Now let me have mine,” Harry murmured, massaging her sore muscles. “You’re too good for us, you know?”

“Lhove you.”

“Love you too, princess.”

Harry unbuttoned his trousers as he walked over to a nondescript chest placed next to the nightstand on his side of the bed. He waited for his pants to pool around his ankles, stepped out of them, and tapped the chest with his toe. He bent once the lid had popped open and retrieved the black-and-pink wand that had arrived by mail just the day before.

No electrical item worked in Hogwarts. But a little money and ingenious magic (and Daphne’s connections) meant that there were always workarounds and they were building quite the collection. He wondered what the girls would ask him to buy next from the catalog.

He wriggled out of his boxers and sat on the edge of the bed. His throbbing cock pushed up between his thighs. He chuckled as he reached behind to grab her arm and noticed her staring at it with ill-disguised need.

“That,” he said, pulling her onto his lap. “Is for obedient wives who listen.” He locked his ankles around her legs and pulled them apart. She whimpered as the cool air in the room tickled her sensitive core. 

“If you won’t stay quiet when I ask you to, I’ll have to find a different way to make you obey,” Harry murmured. His shaft pressed between her lips, splitting them and shallowly pushing inside her. He flicked the wand to its highest setting and pressed the vibrating tip against her sensitive nub. 

Susan shrieked and instinctively reached down with her hands to bat the vibrator away from her pussy. She managed to get it out of contact with her clit but his firm grip on the wand meant she was unable to push it away.

“Hands away or I promise you, Susan Bones, I won’t take you until Hermione’s training is over.”

Susan whimpered but obeyed immediately, reaching up to grab the arm wrapped around her chest.

“Do you want to use your safe word, Susie?” Harry asked softly. 

Susan squeezed his arm to let him know she was fine. The vibrator found its way to her clit again. She groaned, her nails dug into his tanned skin with enough force to leave faint white marks, and her thighs shook but she made no attempt to get away from the pleasurable torment.

He closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair, letting the intoxicating scent of her strawberry-and-cream conditioner relax him. 

“You know, you’ve never told me how many children you want,” Harry whispered. He pushed her hair to one side and slowly kissed along her bare, freckled shoulder.

“S-shix,” Susan moaned.

“Six?!” Harry playfully nipped at her pale skin. “That’s a lot.”

“Bhig fhamily.”

“Mhm. Once this war is over I don’t want to live in Grimmauld Place. We’ll get a nice house in the countryside,” Harry murmured as his lips shifted to her neck. His teeth sank into her soft skin, leaving a purple hickey in their wake. “I want to make it myself,” he murmured. “An amazing library for Mione. A huge garden for us and the children to play in. You can run barefoot on the grass in a pretty summer dress.”

“Hermionhe’s bhabies?”

“They can play too. One big happy family. Something neither of us had.”

Susan moaned into the rag stuffed in her mouth.

“And once the children are tired and in bed for their afternoon nap, I’m going to pin you against your favorite tree in the garden and we’re going to get to work on making the next perfect member of our family.”

Susan went limp in his arms. The cloth slipped out of her mouth as she moaned. Her entire body shook from the force of the orgasm, her legs trembling and straining against his ankles. Her arousal squirted out of her and splattered onto the wooden floor below, gleaming in the dim candlelight.

“Do you want my cum, princess?”

“Yes, please,” Susan whispered hoarsely. 

Harry chucked the wand onto the bed and gently pushed her off his lap and onto her feet. Her weak knees buckled almost immediately. She collapsed but he caught her and gently set her down on the floor, right on top of her pooling arousal.

“I’m all wet and sticky, sir,” Susan giggled. Her eyes had a vacant look and a lazy, happy grin stretched on her face.

“Good. I like you wet and sticky.”

Harry smirked and climbed on top of his wife. He pushed his tip against her core and rubbed it all over her lips, coating it with her cum.

“Sir!” Susan whined, fruitlessly squirming under him. She tried to reach down with her hands to grab his cock but he grabbed her wrists and pinned her arms over her head.

A quiet groan escaped his lips when her legs wrapped around his waist and gently guided him inside her. As her wet, tight walls hugged and massaged his shaft, the tension in his muscles away. Nothing else mattered in the world except for him, his wife, and the pleasure he could give her.

After three days of denial and relentless teasing, she seemed to be in no mood for slow and romantic lovemaking. Her legs pressed against his hips insistently the moment he pulled out of her, begging him to fill her again. 

He kept a steady pace, rocking in and out of her tight pussy as fast as he could. The noises in the room subsided to his quiet grunts and her increasingly desperate moans. Neither of them was in any condition to speak, not that words were needed. 

“You’re mine,” Harry finally whispered against her ear.

“Y-your pretty… pretty cumslut, sir!”

That sinful confirmation in her innocent voice was his undoing. He erupted in her with a groan. He collapsed on top of her, his effort to pull out of her thwarted by her legs around his hips. So he stayed, sheathed in the warmth of her core until he had emptied everything he had to offer inside her and a small trickle of white ran down the length of his softening cock and leaked out of her pussy.

“Six, huh?” Harry asked once he had caught his breath. He rolled off her and watched as she pulled her knees up and hugged them against her chest.  

“I could be argued down to five,” Susan murmured. She wriggled until she was right by his side and rested her head on his shoulder. “After all,” she giggled. “Your other wives will hate me if I keep you all to myself.”

“Coming!” Harry yelled. He grabbed a dressing gown draped over a chair. It was one of Susan’s. Utterly short and violently pink, it barely covered his ass. But it was either that or having his bits flapping about in his guest’s face. He didn’t have time to go back to his bedroom for proper clothes judging by the insistence of their knocking. It was either something extremely serious or Ronald running down to fetch him because the Chudley Cannons had finally notched their first win of the season. 

He groaned and rolled his eyes when he opened the door and saw Daphne on the other side. 

“Very manly, Potter,” Daphne smirked. 

“Are you saying that I can’t wear pink?”

“Oh no, pink is a very flattering color on you. And I’m enjoying all the-” she gestured at his exposed thighs “-unexpected and unwanted goods on display. It’s just that this robe was cut in a particular way to comfortably accommodate big chests,” Daphne explained, a faint note of amusement in her voice. “Since you don’t have that… very manly,” she smirked. “Does Susan know you strut around in her dressing gowns?”

“Susan doesn’t care!” Susan yelled from behind the couch. She snuggled under the blanket, both to protect her modesty and to save herself from the gusts of cold wind blowing into the apartment through the open door. “She just wants you to come inside and shut the bloody door!”

“We have a party to get to. Tracey and Flora are already there. Flora met up with Neville and Luna before it started,” Daphne said, craning over Harry’s shoulder in an effort to locate Susan. “This is the first invite I’ve gotten to a Gryffindor party and I don’t want to be late. I’ve heard they are amazing.”

“Shit. What’s the time?” Susan asked. The blanket fell away as she peeked over the couch, revealing her bare shoulders.

“Doesn’t matter,” Daphne groaned. “We’re going to be late.” 

She squeezed past Harry into the apartment, allowing him to shut the door behind her. 

“Why are you such a pest, Potter?” she asked. She turned to a now upright Susan and studied her with a critical eye. “You’re going to need an hour to wash all the traces of sex away.” 

“No, I won’t! Give me fifteen minutes to get ready and then we can leave.” 

“The hair alone is going to take you thirty,” Daphne murmured. She walked closer and lifted some of Susan’s red curls in her hand. “That plait does wonders in hiding the true length of your hair.” 

“My mama wore her hair long,” Susan said with a wistful smile. “Auntie says our hair is the exact same color but hers always appears darker and more lustrous in photos.”

“Your hair is beautiful too. I bet she’d have loved what you’ve done with it.”

“Stop ogling my wife and get your own, Greengrass,” Harry ribbed. Susan giggled and he grinned. 

“Stealing yours is more fun. Why should I settle for anything less than the hottest woman in the castle?” Daphne leaned in and kissed Susan’s cheek. “Try to get ready before the Twins finish showing off their new inventions, please?”

“You got it.” 

Susan hummed happily as she shuffled to the bedroom, the blanket clutched tightly to her chest to prevent any mishaps. Harry tried to follow her but Daphne placed a hand on his chest and stopped him.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“To take a shower.”

“Absolutely not. I don’t trust you around a naked Susan Bones.”

“She’s my wife, Daphne. I’m not going to do anything she doesn’t want.”

“Which brings me to my next point. I don’t trust Susan around a naked Harry Potter. These things-” Daphne gestured at Harry’s chest.

“Muscles.”

“Yes, muscles. They make a girl stupid and lead to poor choices. Like missing an amazing party so you can spend an hour wasting water. So you’re going to sit right here until she comes out. I am not missing tonight’s party.”

“What’s so special about it? Did the Twins finally perfect their canary creams?” Harry groaned. “I hope they don’t use Neville as a test subject again. It took Hermione an hour to change him back to a human last time.”

“It’s the first real party I’ve been invited to,” Daphne admitted, a faint blushing gracing her pale cheeks. “I’ve been to a few Hufflepuff ones but they’re usually just cuddle puddles, tea, and gossip. Fun but not really a party. The one party in Ravenclaw I attended involved mind games and quizzes-” Daphne snorted “-Flora tells me they’re all like that. I don’t want to talk about Slytherin parties. I like to stay far away from the Common Room and dorms when they host one.” 

“That leaves Gryffindor.”

“Yep.” Daphne leaned against the dining table and crossed her arms over her chest. “Nobody ever wanted to invite a Slytherin and it was made clear to my friends that they wouldn’t be welcome if they brought me. I don’t want them to suffer because of me. So I never got to go to a Gryffindor party. But now I’m friends with their golden boy so I can go, drink, have fun, flirt with your wife a little, and none of those assholes can say a thing.”

“They’re not assholes.” Harry shifted uncomfortably on his feet. Ron was technically one of those ‘assholes’. He doubted his best friend would be thrilled at the idea of Daphne and Tracey having access to their tower. “Just idiots.”

“They’re assholes, Harry. Just like the morons who populate my House. You’re not a good person because you’re in Gryffindor.” She rested her hand on his chest and slipped it underneath the robe until her palm was over his heartbeat. “You’re good because you have a kind heart. Thank you. Flora told me what happened today. I won’t forget what you’re doing to keep Flora safe.”

“She’s a delight,” Harry said. He licked his dry lips and tried not to look down at the hand pressed over his heart. “How’s your arm?”

“Better. Malfoy wasn’t happy about what happened with Hesita and Pansy today. I know they have their instructions but I’d watch my back if I were you.”

“You’re the one who has to sleep in the same room as them.”

“I can take care of myself. My space is warded.”

“They’re not foolproof. I don’t like the idea of you living there. Move in with us.”

“What?!”

“We have a spare bedroom. You and Tracey should move in with us.”

“I’m sure Tracey will enjoy watching you sleep with your wife on every flat surface in this apartment,” Daphne said dryly. “But I’d much rather get jumped by Hestia and Pansy.”

Harry leaned in, his expression serious.

“We’ll cut back. Nothing but good behavior in shared areas.”

She leaned closer and he was suddenly aware of her perfect lips, inches away from his own. All he had to do was close the distance and claim her.

“I don’t need your pity, Harry. I can take care of myself.”

“Don’t you ever wish you didn’t have to?” Harry whispered.

Daphne leaned in, only to jump away from him at the sound of the door being pushed open. 

Harry turned to see who it was, relaxing at the sight of Hermione walking in with an armful of books.

“You’re late,” Harry said as he walked over to help her put down the stack on the couch.

“I needed to swing by the library.” Hermione kissed Harry’s cheek and turned to Daphne. “Good. You’re already here. I’m going to need your help with this.”

“Help with what?”

“I have an idea. We’re going to form a secret club and Harry’s going to teach us how to defend ourselves.”

Notes:

I hope everyone is having a nice December so far! Mine has been completely occupied by moving to a new house and other calamities, lol. At least I am now back to writing, it is a Christmas miracle. I've been having fun with this story so far, especially since I've been able to take it nice and slow when it comes to introducing relationships. I do enjoy this approach, because I feel the pay-off in the end is so much better. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and I will have a few more for you before Christmas!