Milfs Like It Big

Milfs Like It Big

Chapter 22

His classmates jostled past him, all of them almost vibrating out of their skins at the recent turn of events. 

But Harry stood beside the Gryffindor table, trying not to notice the French blond behind him vying for his attention. Hermione stalled beside him, biting her lips before Harry motioned her to carry on. With conflict brewing in her chocolate gaze, his only female friend scuttled away from the vicinity, following the flowing masses.

If only the veela would have scampered similarly…

Harry rose on his tiptoes, craning his head, and checking all over the head table for his mother. 

His eyes widened. 

The absence of his beautiful mother was apparent. And so was Blaise’s mother’s presence. Only the headmaster was busy talking with professor McGonagall.

 Please, don’t let her be already at her quarters.

Heck, he wasn’t even aware whether she would remain in the same quarter as Professor Flitwick, considering the special accommodation that must have been provided for the small charms professor.

But he had to talk with her. Make her understand. And most certainly apologize for making a fool of himself during Aunt Bellatrix’s arrival.

Nodding to himself, Harry hardened his heart. It was better to resolve their issue tonight, rather than wait for a few more days and somehow dig an even greater hole for himself. 

He had barely taken a step when a long-fingered hand came from nowhere and hooked onto his elbows and Harry grimaced, turning and seeing the expectant look of the gorgeous French girl.

“Could you please escort me to my carriage?” she requested with a smile. 

Harry looked around, feeling a sense of helplessness, until he spotted someone sulking just a few yards away. Inside him, a brilliant plan simmered and sizzled. Perhaps it would provide a solution to yet another one of his problems…

“Actually…” Harry gently tugged his hands away from the blond, “I have to be somewhere else, but Neville here would be more than happy to show you the way.”

“Neville!”

Harry ignored her panicked “Non!”, barely stopping himself from grinning as his godbrother shuffled along with an honestly pathetic look.

Seriously! He made a mental note to offer Neville some friendly guidance on avoiding appearing desperate. He doubted a girl like Fleur would find that attractive.

His godbrother stopped just a few feet away from them, his other housemates moving along. Although not without casting some peculiar looks in his direction.

“Fleur here wants someone to show her the way to her carriage.” Harry gave his godbrother a pointed look. “Why don’t you help her?”

“No need for that, Mr. Longbottom. I will follow my classmates.”

With Neville’s puzzled expression shining through and Fleur’s stammering excuses ringing in his ears, Harry gently excused himself from the duo’s vicinity. Hopefully, they would keep each other busy.

Brushing past a gaping Ron, Harry sprinted to the doorways, pushing aside a certain third year who was positioning his camera for some of Neville’s shot.

For a moment, he almost stopped the mousy haired boy from taking his godbrother’s picture before shaking his head, running past him.

Even though he wasn’t sure about his mom’s quarters, searching for Professor Flitwick’s quarters wouldn’t go amiss. His stride lengthened, dragon hide boots crashing into the polished stone floor with utter urgency. 

Some stragglers ahead into the corridor forced him to enter a portrait of an old monk, a secret he had found in his second year, running away from Filtch’s mangy cat. The pitch darkness of the hidden way would take him directly to the third floor and that much closer to his destination. He stumbled through the way, more like feeling through the darkness, the narrow passageway gradually slopping up.

The claustrophobic darkness gave way the moment he came out of the passageway, looking back at the false painting of the steed that was grazing on the green canvas.

A deep breath and his nervousness came back with a vengeance. He remembered the evening’s happenings with utmost clarity, just like he remembered the events of the summer.

“—your help.” The dreaded voice of his potion’s professor floated from just ahead, particularly to the left of the bend.

Despite being the best student in the class, Harry always got the impression that he was edging on thin lines in front of the potions teacher. Sure, he wasn’t picked on like Neville, neither Ron, but Harry was certain that without his mom’s guidance in potion making, he would have been an equal recipient of the professor’s wraith.

“Thanks for the offer, Severus, but I have everything covered.”

Harry’s heart missed a beat at the voice of the woman. Surely… 

Harry knew professor Snape was in his father’s class and had some kind of rivalry with him but to realize that his mother was also an acquaintance of him…

What if Snape’s rivalry with his dad stemmed from some other fact than just a mere House one? Why did his mom even keep that bit to herself?

With gritted teeth at the new revelation, Harry forced himself to follow the sound, turning left and coming across his mother with Snape.

“I insist, Lily.” Snape’s greasy head bobbed as he tried to close the distance, an odd expression filtering across his swallow, waxen face. “I have faith that we can restore our friendship during your stay here.”

With his eyes tightening, Harry observed his mother’s wand as it swiftly appeared in her low-hanging right hand. Her long fingers gripped the willow piece with a claw-like hold, and a look of disgust wrinkled her nose. However, Harry’s anger surged as he realized where the greasy man’s dirty black eyes were fixated upon.

“Stay away from her, you bastard!” Harry thundered, swiftly crossing the corridor and unsheathing his own wand. 

Snape jerked back, shaking his head as if rousing himself from some kind of trance. He whirled around, his hook nose wrinkling at the sight of him. The tension in his mother’s frame waned away. She gave him a grateful look from behind his potion professor’s back and Harry’s chest swelled with pride at her acknowledgment. Maybe she wouldn’t be that upset for his earlier tomfoolery?

“Potter, what brings your worthless presence here?” Snape exclaimed, his words accompanied by flying spittle. “That will be twenty points from Gryffindor for aimlessly wandering in the corridors.”

Harry dismissed the unfair deduction without a second thought, feeling a surge of righteous anger building up inside him. “I don’t want you anywhere near my mother,” he spat out each word with a venomous intensity. “Your repulsive presence is making her uneasy. Don’t you understand that?”

An uneven grin curled in Snape’s ugly mug. The resident potions professor stared upward at him, stumbling back at the realization that Harry was towering over him—a stark difference from the earlier years. Even then, the dungeon bat somehow gained enough courage.

“I don’t require your approval to speak with my colleague, Potter. Perhaps someone ought to humble that inflated ego of yours. Typically, it’s the fathers who handle that task, but since yours is preoccupied…” The professor, who was despised by everyone in the castle, appeared to relish speaking those words. Harry noticed his mother’s fair complexion rapidly turning a shade of red, and he was certain that he himself was mirroring her reaction.

“My father is ten times the man than you would ever be. He protected his family until his last breath.” Harry murmured, panting as his dam of anguish exploded. “I am sure that is not a concept you will be familiar with. What with your track-record of saving your skin at others’ expenses.”

“You are always jealous of my dad because you know you are nothing in front of him.”

 “One hundred points from Gryffindor and a month’s detention!” The professor’s thunderous expression clearly showed that Harry had struck a sensitive chord. “It’s about time you understand that the world doesn’t revolve around the Potters.”

“Neither does it revolve around a slimy, backstabbing death eater.” A chilling voice came from Harry’s behind and goosebumps erupted across his body at the sheer venom in the syllables.

High heels clacked on the stone, and a tall, curvy brunette sidled beside him. Harry gulped as the sound of teeth grinding came from his mother, who had miraculously kept herself out of the confrontation till then.

“Black!” Snape backpedaled hurriedly, a sense of unease washing over him. His coal-black eyes glared at him once, then going back to the witch standing beside him, his wand sliding from his long black sleeve.

“Why am I not surprised by your actions, Snivellus? You were always a pathetic weasel.” Bellatrix Black smiled with an extra dash of sugar, causing Harry to choke on his saliva at the name-calling. “Barely an hour into the new school year and you are already sniffing around Lily? I guess you never learn, do you?”

"Keep yourself out of this, Black!" Snape retorted, his voice dripping with venom, the words hanging in the tense air. The dimly lit corridor seemed to shudder under the weight of their animosity. “Its none of your business.”

“Oh, but it is. I can hardly let a low-life death eater like yourself irritate my friend over there, can I?”

Snape looked back at Lily Potter and saw an equally disgusted expression before drawing his bat-like robe tightly around himself. “I don’t need a character certificate from a witch who cannot keep her legs closed.”

“That’s rich coming from a guy who still jerks every night thinking of someone else’s wife.”

“Why you!”

The knowledge that this bastard fantasized about his mother was the last straw and Harry promised himself that he would push this ball of grease out of the Astronomy tower the first chance he got. Snape seemed to take Aunt Bellatrix’s accusation too seriously, pointing his wand at the brunette’s way, his eyes madly rolling in their sockets.

“Hit a nerve, did I?” Bellatrix Black cackled, twirling her wand between her fingers. She turned to the redhead standing by the side, giving her a pointed look. “You know Lily, maybe you should put a curse over your hair. Some depraved soul could do a lot of damage with any of your fallen locks. After all, some Dirtball could go to any length for their sick desires.”

His mother seemed to consider her suggestion, her knuckles turning white around her wand. 

“I would never…” Even though Snape sputtered his denial, his eyes indeed had gone to his mom’s long flowing hair more than once. 

That’s it! Hogwarts would have to search for a new potions professor soon.

Snape jerked his wand Bella’s way, his unhealthy complexion taking on a puce color. His wand hand vibrated, but aunt Bella seemed nonchalant, still twirling her wand.

“Going to curse me, Snape?” Bellatrix mockingly asked, striding ahead, straight at the pointed wand. “You have the balls to do that? I thought they had shriveled up when you betrayed your dear lord?” 

She pushed Snape’s wand aside, getting close enough that Harry had to listen closely to hear her speak again. “If I even get the hint of you planning anything against Lily or Harry for that matter—” Snape blanched at something that Aunt Bellatrix murmured next, his wand hand falling to his side. “—we will find out if those rumors of you having no balls are true. Understand?”

Snape nodded jerkily, leaning back and giving Harry and Lily a stink eye. His eyes lingered on his mother for a smite longer and Aunt Bellatrix growled. With a final dismissive sniff, the hated potion professor turned around, swishing his cloak like some comical villain.

“Oh, and Snape, I will take care of Harry’s detentions. You don’t have to trouble your greasy head for that.”

“Just wait there, Bellatrix…” his mother’s sputtering rang along the corridor, covering Snape’s hurried footsteps. 

Aunt Bellatrix ignored his indignant mother, coming back to him, and patting him on the back. “Be there at my office after dinner tomorrow. We can’t just let you insult your teachers without consequences now, can we?”

And with a mock angry look on her face, Bellatrix Black went the same way she had come from, sashaying her wide childbearing hips with extra swagger.

“That fucking bitch…” his mother’s fuming dragged him back from his appreciation of his DADA teacher’s assets. “Who is she to butt into this matter? I could have supervised my son’s detentions.”

She dragged her eyes from the Lady Black’s swinging posterior and jumped back after he cleared his throat.

“Mom?” Harry’s inquiry made her swallow, and she shuffled on her feet like a cornered animal. “Are you staying at professor Flitwick’s quarters?”

“Yeah.” she squeaked, her eyes darting around the empty corridor as if just realizing that only two of them were present at the moment.

Harry wanted to ask about her absence from the Potter manor, but the recent turn of events caused him to hesitate about just straight up asking about that. “Snape was your friend? Is that why he hates dad?”

Lily Potter grimaced, and Harry still had trouble believing that his beautiful mother could ever have been friends with that shitstain. Honestly, he had trouble even imagining Snape as a teenager.

“He lived in the same town and first informed me about magic.” Lily confessed, flushing in shame. “I even made excuses for him when young, you know, because he was my first friend in the magical world. I now feel wretched thinking about it.”

As she folded into herself and burrowed into her work robes, all Harry felt was pity. After all, he had been friends with two asses as well, who had no trouble betraying him at the opportune time. 

"Would you like me to walk you back to your quarters?" Harry offered tentatively, extending an olive branch. He didn't want to bring up the memories of that summer, especially the ones he had forcefully suppressed. Especially the dreams that had become regular about that evening; with their activity going well past just blowjob and culminating in him claiming her sacred place then and there in the dreams. "And maybe you could give me some hints about your upcoming tests. Who knows, I might even break all the records in charms with your help..."

Harry gave a goofy grin at her narrowed eyes, matching her steps as she started her journey to her quarters. “I should make you do extra credit just for thinking I will give you any special treatment.”

“C’mon mom, can’t you at least look aside if I forget to submit any homework? At least once in a while?”

“That’s it. You will submit double of everyone’s essay length for the rest of the year.” The weariness flushed away from her eyes and she gave him a fond look as he pouted at her.

“Damn it, what’s the point of having a relative as a faculty if you can’t even slack off?”

“Care to repeat that, dear? I think I heard someone mumble that he would make his mom proud in her subject.”

Harry huffed, feeling oddly giddy. The companionable silence was a far cry from the earlier stilled awkwardness. Only their footsteps echoed over the stone floors and the occasion greeting from some friendly portrait. 

Corridors went away, and finally the Charms corridor came, with the Charms classroom situated exactly at the last door of the east wing. Feeling satisfied with his effort and not opening any can of worms, Harry prepared himself to greet her a good night when the dark double doors were just a few feet ahead of them.

“Harry… I’m sorry… being so busy for the last week…” his mother trailed off, not meeting his eyes. Harry himself gulped, realizing their conversation could enter a dangerous category if he wasn’t alert. “There were so many things to prepare for.”

Even feeling that she wasn’t fully truthful, Harry waved off her apology. “Honestly, it wasn’t a big deal. Blinky was her usual self.” Harry shrugged self-deprecatingly. “Ever watchful…as if I was some little toddler.”

“That’s why I wasn’t that worried,” Lily muttered.

Harry rolled his eyes, very sure that she had asked Blinky to be extra vigilant in her duty. 

“Wait…did Snape badgered you through your stay here?” Harry asked.

“No, not really.” His mother bit her lips, shaking her head, and facing him, her back to the doors. “He didn’t arrive earlier like every other faculty, just like Bellatrix.” 

“He won’t leave you alone, will he?” Harry remembered seeing his beady black eyes glinting in greed. Add his criminal past and Aunt Bellatrix’s warning probably wouldn’t be enough for reigning the bastard in.

“I can take care of myself pretty well.” She puffed up as if it was insulting for him to insinuate anything else. “It’s not like I haven’t faced any of his old friends during the war. And barely any of them dare to cross me again.”

Harry was sure she can take care of anyone in a straight-up fight, but worm like Snape hardly fought fair. And with a proper element of surprise…

His eyes fell on the straight red locks of his mom, gently swaying behind her like a curtain at her fidgeting. His jaws squared, and he rummaged inside his pockets, searching for one thing that would level any kind of lopsided advantage anyone could have over her.

“Here, take this.” Harry thrusted the square parchment to her. Her puzzled eyes gradually widened, and she gasped out loud, taking his offering reverently. “Is this…”

“Yeah, the Marauder’s Map. Weasley twins gave me back after they came to know who created this.”

“Harry…” Her green eyes fluttered and glowed as she caressed his father’s handiwork, lips curving into a delightful smile. “Thank you. This will save a lot of work during my rounds.”

She jerkily raised her arms, opening them and going for a hug before blushing and turning away. Harry himself had stiffened, almost dreading feeling her curves molded around himself, especially remembering the last time that happened. 

“Good night, love.”

“Gd’night” Harry mumbled, as she opened the door behind with a tap of her wand and entered. An odd disappointment flowed through his sinew and it took him barely any time to realize he was actually looking forward to her hug. Turning back from the closed door, Harry followed the very familiar path to his dorm, not encountering anyone on his journey.

Only when he had pulled the curtains around his bed and changed into his pajamas did he realize he had practically given his mother a way to monitor him at her every waking moment.

Picking the pillow and smashing his face into it, Harry cursed out, “FUCK!”

-oOo-

“Enter.” 

Maybe it was the first time in his life that Harry was anticipating being in detention. The sudden panic griping his heart or the numb feeling in his legs certainly showed that. Being in detention was a novel concept for him, considering he was more of a rule abider till last year and had only heard of the fantastic happening around him by his godbrother or Hermione’s retelling. 

Now being given a detention in his first day back was not something he should rejoice but well…he kind of was.

And why shouldn’t he, considering he planned on asking the witch inside about her previous offer, which, hopefully, she hadn’t rescinded yet.

Hands shaking a bit, Harry pushed open the Defense classroom door. His eyes went to the newly decorated room, with a fresh paint of darkish aubergine coat, giving it an almost Gothic look in the candles’ low light. The various paintings depicting mages fighting amongst each other were also new. His eyes got stuck at the large depiction of a wild-haired witch waving her staff and sending motes of lightning toward a bearded wizard who had an uncanny resemblance to professor Dumbledore.

The legendary fight between Morgana and Merlin, no doubt.

A clearing of throat made him blush, and Harry rubbed the back of his head, turning to the entrance of the staff quarter where his Defense against the Dark arts professor was leaning on. 

“Good afternoon, prof—”

Whoa!

Harry swallowed noisily, noticing in the back of his mind the way the brunette was waving her wand and layering wards over the classroom door from which he had just entered. His attention, though, was on some other things.

Getting a glimpse of the most enigmatic of his mother’s friend in a revealing cloth wasn’t something new. The dress she had worn at the French Manor was scandalous enough to start another war between British and French.

But where her dress there showed a vast amount of her pale perfect skin and immense cleavage, her current dress was diametrically opposite.

He had heard of dresses muggle women wore while riding a horse, but certainly they were not this tightly wound around the body like a bandage? Dark, tight full sleeve top and hip hugging leggings cocooned around the busty brunette and Harry was sure that those equestrian dresses were made of leather, not like whatever shiny material this was made up of.

“What? Is there something wrong?” Aunt Bellatrix asked, sauntering his way. Her hips swayed, curly hair bouncing with the rhythm of her every step.

“No…Of course not.” Harry said, salivating as two prominent peaks indented the front of her tight top. “What am I going to do?” He looked around the classroom, searching for some parchment or cauldrons that could be his duty for the next few hours. “For detention, I mean.”

“Silly boy, did you really think I would let you toil away on some silly tasks for an entire month?” Aunt Bella remarked, rolling her eyes. “No, no, no. This will be worlds apart from your previous detentions, where we will do things together. Lots and lots of things…”

“What things?” Harry stuttered as she came dangerously close to him, her huge protruding breasts almost touching his chest. Only a few months ago, he would have stumbled at her action, but now he just stood his ground, wondering if the night could go about how he could have only fantasized.

After all, this witch’s elder sister was still the freakiest and neediest woman that he had come across. What were the chances that blood would run true in this case?

“Why, dueling practice, of course.” Aunt Bella sprang back after coming dangerously close, rubbing her hands together at his noisy gulp. “What? What did you think? Can’t you see I am dressed for the occasion?”

“Well…” Harry could barely suppress his disappointment. And here he thought… But then again wasn’t getting dueling lessons from her, the reason for making a fool of himself last night.

A wave of her wand cleared all the desks and chairs of the classroom to one side, leaving a vast space open for them to indulge in their activity. Another wave and a clear oval boundary sprang up from the floor, before whooshing above like a lick of flame and encompassing the inside in a transparent bubble.

“Lose that bulky robe, Harry.” Aunt Bellatrix skipped inside the protective bubble, looking backward at him with her blazing violet eyes. “Let’s see what you are made of.”

Shedding off the voluminous school robe from his body like it was on fire, Harry chucked it over the teacher’s desk in the classroom’s front. He rolled his sleeves, leaving his thick, veiny forearms uncovered, before thirteen inches of elder slicked from his invisible wrist holder. An electric current of nerves raced through his body. The thought of dueling with a former world champion made him too much aware of his surroundings.

With a furiously beating heart, Harry entered the protective bubble, stalling exactly at the opposite of the grinning lady. His jaws clenched, eyes squinting at her wand hand, which was loosely held by her side. 

A bit disrespectful—the casual stance of her, but Harry could understand her reason. A fourth year Hogwarts student could barely challenge her in a craft that she had honed for decades. But he wasn’t like some other of his classmates.

Now he only had to wipe that affable grin off her face and show her the only reason Neville was representing Great Britain in his stead was because of his previous derision of the spotlight.

Harry turned sideways, bending his knees a bit and held his wand up, imitating a fencer. The stance was traditional and always useful against stronger opponents. Which his current opponent certainly was. His jaws clenched, hands stilling in anticipation of the impending duel.

Both stared at each other. Steady emerald meeting mirthful violet.

A laugh escaped Aunt Bella. Harry was watching for it—the moment her eyes flickered down, Harry flicked his wand, a silent disarming spell leaving. He didn’t wait for her response, sidestepping on a purpose, his wand moving, preparing a combo of blasting and gouging charm. A flash of light came from her side, searing his retina. Harry blinked furiously, the spells dying on his lips.

He had hoped his silent casting would have brought him a few surprised second. But certainly he seemed to have thought wrong. The bright flashes dancing in front of him mellowed, and Harry had barely gotten his equilibrium back when Bella’s raised hand registered in his mind.

At once, the brunette thrusted her wand. A streak of yellow rushed toward him and Harry stumbled, somehow evading the curse. Muttering curses under his breath, Harry squinted, hoping she wouldn’t use that flash bang again.

How the hell was he going to fight without his eyesight? And why wasn’t she casting again?

“Oh dear. Don’t tell me that was everything you could do. Silent casting isn’t even that impressive. Just because here it is taught later doesn’t mean it is something truly special.” Aunt Bellatrix said, giggling at his affronted look. “Does little Potter have nothing special in his armour?”

Little! Why this damn bitch! 

It had been only a few months that he had grown comfortable in his skin, but that didn’t mean he had forgotten the humiliation of being called small or short. He would show her!

“As if!”

He snarled. Iridescent fire belched from his wand, rushing toward the startled witch like a torrent of an all-encompassing wave. The elemental curse originating from his family’s library was only used for extraordinary circumstances. But what could be more special than fighting against a former dueling champion? The fire looped around the stilled woman, and Harry thought he had finally shut her up for good.

“That’s more like it!” A victorious crooning came from his professor before she slashed her wand diagonally in the incoming fire’s direction. A cone of sparkling gray emitted from the tip of her wand and it halted the momentum of the flame before extinguishing the roaring blaze as if it was a flame of a small candle rather than an elemental conjuration.

Harry gulped. It wasn’t the most powerful spell in his arsenal. But not so down the totem pole that someone could tackle it like it was a child’s tantrum. 

A challenging eyebrow raised, and Harry realized she was waiting for him to show his tricks. Maybe the reason she wasn’t taking initiative in the attack.

Another thing became obvious that might would be useless against her. Maybe guile was required here?

If she would not attack, then…

Harry quickly changed his stance, getting front on. His arms flowed from one spell to another, chaining spells with alacrity. A skill that he had developed by himself. A paint spell left his wand, then an acid blob, before a compressed air bubble interspersed with some juvenile jinxes and finally the weakest and the faintest of the charms—a tickling one.

Aunt Bellatrix’s eyes glowed, her lips curving up in a pleasant smile, and she started swatting the spells. The paint spell splashed against the protective barrier at her lazy flick, the acid blob transfigured into a blob of water and sent over her head and the air bubble burst before reaching her, blowing her hair back in a pleasant breeze. Her eyes remained fixed on him and she smirked in his direction, preventing his attacks without even looking at them. An audible gasp escaped her when the last hidden charm went unnoticed by her. Especially as he had not only underpowered the spell but also sent it with no wand movement. The only spell he could cast pointedly.

The tickling charm splashed into her left sleeve and the dark fabric suddenly turned completely transparent.

Harry stared, gobsmacked as her toned arms came into display, from her biceps to her wrist as if it was a vanishing charm rather than a tickling charm.

“What…”

“Ooops!” Aunt Bellatrix patted her hand, smiling coyly at him. “Did I forget to mention? This dress is made with magic sensitive fabric. Just a small touch of magic against them and they will turn transparent in that area.”

“Ohh…” Harry watched spellbound, as she moved her hand around, before framing her bulging breasts with the naked arm. His eyes followed her from head to toe. To her high-collared top, to her tight leggings. All made with this miraculous fabric.

“Silly me. I never thought I will get tagged by a fourth year, so I refrained from wearing any underwear. Hopefully, that was the only accidental hit.”

The sound of his Adam’s apple bobbing rang throughout the classroom. “I see.” Harry said with no hitch. A dozen thoughts flashed through his mind at once. All those days of geeking inside the library floated into his brain at the opportune moment, and a new strategy formed rapidly.

“Five minutes.” Aunt Bellatrix flexed her fingers. “After that, I will stop playing around.”

Harry nodded, before his wand blurred, only tickling charms and coloring charms leaving the stick.

He knew that wasn’t really showing his skill. But hey, surely his speed would impress her.

 Harry only hoped so.

Five minutes and five seconds later.

Harry stared at the dark stone of the classroom ceiling, bound in thick ropes that somehow got conjured when he was too busy in hitting his professor with any spell. Not that he succeeded that much. Not only he could barely follow her wand moving in the air and intercepting spells, but she also turned out to be nimble like a gazelle, flowing past his fast spells as if they were moving in slow motion.

A gorgeous face came into his view, black, curly hair framing an aristocratic face. “That was interesting.”

Harry’s focus shifted from her face to her torso, where the left upper portion of her top was transparent, providing him with a tantalizing view of her pale, milky, and hefty upper boob. Her right side-boob was also visible, the nipples peeking from the barely covered top. The navel portion was completely exposed and Harry’s mouth watered as he gaped at her cute looking bellybutton. No wonder he lost track of the time.

“Look at me… A bit more of speed on your part and you would have unwrapped me like a present.” Aunt Bellatrix gasped as if that thought was scandalous. She got on her haunches, her hanging breasts just a foot above from his bound form. “Good thing you are so slow, hmm?”

She tugged the rope that was covering his mouth aside with her wand, a victorious glint in her eyes.

Harry sputtered first, before huffing at her. “I want a rematch.” He thought about requesting her to wear this same clothes before curtailing his horniness.

“Why do you think you will perform any better next time?” 

“Because…Because…” Harry trailed off, knowing perfectly well he couldn’t voice the real reason for a rematch.

Her curves wobbled as she sprang to her feet. A silent wave of her wand and his bindings fell away and Harry immediately mimicked her, jumping to his feet and taking his stance.

“Easy there, tiger. Your rematch has to wait,” Aunt Bellatrix said, a satisfactory smile on her face at his eagerness. “You detention is over.”

Damn it!

Harry shook himself out of his desire to see the last Black sister naked, waving his wand and blanching at the time that his wand showed. He hurried to the front of the classroom and picked up his robes before turning toward his professor.

“Professor… I was wondering whether you are still interested in taking me as an apprentice. I mean, you said that day…”

“And what do you think we were doing until now?”

“You mean…”

Aunt Bellatrix nodded, subtly thrusting her half-covered titties. “My methods might be unconventional, but I am certain it would bear the greatest of the fruits.” She gently stroked her uncovered upper body part, and Harry again lost track of time. “Don’t you agree, my apprentice?”

Harry covered the front of his trousers with his robes, her throaty promise sounding too naughty to be coming from a professor.

Harry loved it.

With a spring in his step at the best detention of his life, Harry bade her goodnight, and exited the classroom. 

Now if only she took it easy for a few seconds and let him hit her a few times. Surely a newly taken apprentice deserved some slack?

He had barely taken a few steps from her classroom door when quick footsteps from ahead reached him.

“Harry!” an intensely familiar cry came and Harry’s eyes widened when his mother rushed his way.

“Mom!” Harry stopped himself so that he wouldn’t crash into his onrushing mother. “What are you doing here?”

“Well…aha…” She seemed to lose her panic at his question before an angry look came over her. 

She marched toward him and poked his chest. “What’s wrong with me looking after you…especially after you had a detention with her?” Harry didn’t know whether he should be thankful that she seemed to get over her recent funk in his worry or that it only took him spending one detention with her nemesis to get over herself. 

Finally, Harry just rejoiced at the end of the awkwardness. Especially as he was about to tear his hairs in worry.

“She didn’t torture you, did she?” His mother fussed, looking over him before gasping out loud. 

It took him a few seconds to realize where she was looking and by the time it was already too late. She snatched his hand toward her, and Harry gulped at the angry-looking welt that was clear around his wrist.

“That disgusting who—” His mom swallowed her curse, her hair almost standing as righteous anger flowed through her. 

“Wait mum. This isn’t what it looks like.” Harry placated her, but his mother was like a volcano about to erupt and her gaze was locked onto the closed door of the nearby classroom. “We were dueling, and I was hit with an incarcerous. Nothing dangerous.”

His mother’s nostrils flared, before suddenly she engulfed him in a tight hug. What the…Not that he was complaining. But where did it come from? Sure, she used to give him frequent hugs, but why now?

He thought he heard her sniffing around his throat and collar before she slowly disengaged from the embrace, a sheepish smile on her face. 

“Sorry about that, dear. But when I saw that mark…” she said, before her face closed off and she peered at him accusingly. “You accepted her offer then? Of becoming her apprentice? She seems to love gloating about that.”

Well shite…

“Oh, that? I thought it was too good of an offer to pass on, you know. Surely she could teach me a lot of things?”

Was it just him, or was there suddenly a little more distance between him and his mother?

“I see…”

It wasn’t his imagination. She was really shuffling away from him. 

Please, not again…

“Mom… please…I know I should have asked for your permission, but what if she picked someone else in the meantime?”

“You are certainly more than old enough to decide who you want to learn from.” There was clear frost in his mother’s voice, and Harry internally winced. “But before you return to your dorm, I should inform you that professor McGonagall had allocated half of your detention to me to supervise. Now if you don’t want that, you could talk with your head of the house and request for the detentions to be transformed to your master.” She literally spat the word. “Or you could present yourself at my classroom after tomorrow’s dinner. Your choice.”

She whirled around after declaring that, her long red locks swinging with her momentum. Harry’s eyes unintentionally went to her clothed rump, the large buttocks that he had gawked in the summer prominent even in her loose robes. 

“Snatching my son away… I will show that slut!”

Harry was sure she hadn’t intended for him to hear her mumbling, but her agitated voice crashed into his eardrums, loud and clear. His mother went toward her quarters, leaving him to wallow in his misery in the dank, barely illuminated corridor. 

Fuck my life.

-oOo-

One week later, Charms classroom.

Lily Potter wiped away her sweaty brows, smirking at her son, who was holding his side, panting. She chucked his wand back to him, which he caught, taking a deep breath and getting upright in his preferred stance.

“Had enough for the day?” She taunted, but her son just shook his head, shaking away his exhaustion with a determination that made her proud. Proud and alarmed.

She had seen him improve by the minute, and as a mother, she was proud. Extremely, extremely proud of how far he had come in just a year when last year, he pointedly refused to take part in any dueling, wasting all of his hard earned talent.

What brought this desire to improve—Lily couldn’t guess, and that was making her restless.

Arranging half of the detentions for herself was sorely for her sake so that her son wouldn’t have to spend any more time with Bellatrix than absolutely necessary. But learning that they were dueling rather than anything inappropriate took all the wind of her indignation. 

Maybe Harry would realize that she was the better teacher and thus ask her for dueling apprenticeship—that was her primary goal when she jumped into these lessons, running her son ragged with strenuous workouts that would have made most aurors puke their guts out. But not only her son seemed to revel in this fighting, but he was always asking for more, learning new spells and surprising her with every other duel.

‘What is your goal, son? Why are you so determined to get better?’ Answers to these queries were keeping her awake night after night.

The marauder’s map, the extraordinary object of her husband’s making, that fell into her lap had been immense help, as it allowed her to keep her eyes on the defense classroom every time Harry had detention. 

The more she observed their footsteps moving around, the more perplexed she became. She had quaked in fright, shivering when for the first time she activated the map, almost certain that their markers would be on top of each other, and she had to frustratingly watch her hated rival doing things with her son that no teacher should even think of doing with a student.

And no, her nipples weren’t hard when she activated the map. That must have been because she had just taken a shower. And certainly she wasn’t feeling jealous, thinking about her son spending time with the Black bitch rather than her.

Yes, she was just furious. Furious about the shameless of her childhood enemy. Not because of chickening out at that crucial time in France. She flushed, just remembering that incident invoked shame. The feeling of her tits sucked so voraciously, the magical tongue that Harry vibrated along her sensitive spot, and finally, that humongous dome of a cock-head that had stretched her delicate cunt-lips to their bursting point—Morgana! She feared those sensations would haunt her till the dying days.

She was still not over that incident and not speaking with Harry for the week only exacerbated the longing, which in hindsight was a huge mistake on her part. 

And now this slut had to come and invoke the same feelings that she had been trying to suppress for the better part of the month. 

“Mom?”

She shook her head, releasing a sigh as she centered herself. Her muscles losing their tension, Lily conjured a feather, and it slowly drifted down, swirling in the air in circles before it touched the ground.

And Harry’s wand exploded into action, spewing an area wide banisher that came at her waist height. She angled her wand and gave it a sideways jerk, a deflection shield cutting off the intent of the charm. The procedure was mastery level manipulation of known charms, but she had never believed in dumbing down herself to make anyone feel better. She had been following the same principle when dueling with her son, defending his attack at her best, even though attacking him with considerable milder skill. 

Considering Bellatrix had the habit of playing with her opponents, especially if they were weaker than her, Lily was sure her son was getting enough taunting and embarrassment at being regarded as a novice in the DADA classroom. 

She would like to separate herself from her nemesis and show him she wasn’t taking him lightly just because of his age.

By his gritted teeth, her effort was paying off.

She went for the attack, the first time that night, conjuring a whip of water and snapped it towards him. The air sliced as the thin construction slashed at Harry’s torso who, unlike himself, pointed his wand at his non-wand hand and conjured a glove of flame with which he captured the whip and then tugged. 

Lily’s eyes grew large at the unexpected counter, and she grudgingly had to cut the intent of the whip in fear of getting her wand stolen. Harry followed her action, cutting his own flames and letting the water whip fall on the stone surface with a splash. 

His wand snapped up like a conductor’s baton and the fallen water froze to sub-zero level, transforming into a discus that he chucked in her direction.

Lily let the icy whirlwind came close to her and only when it was barely a couple of feet away, she sent a concentrated concussive blast point blank that blew the construct apart, tiny chunks of ice blasting apart in all directions. 

She slapped a sneaky stunner aside, glaring at her son, who was behind a full body protego to protect himself from the misshapen icicles.

“Lesson for the future—always try to turn your opponents’ spell against themselves.”

Harry nodded, dropping his shield. She again went for the win, three stunner flew from her wand in the blink of an eye, every one of them pointed at three different heights, cutting his dodging paths.

Rather than the shield that she was expecting, her son summoned three chairs from the pile at the side, intercepting her attack again with a different strategy. His wand flowed and twirled, an intense concentration masking his face, and her breath hitched when the summoned chairs vibrated and flowed, rapidly taking three different shapes, simultaneously. 

More curious than cautious, Lily let her son do his thing, even though she should punish him for trying a spell that was clearly above his current level. She couldn’t help but be impressed as the spells finally took effect, turning one chair into a massive falcon, which shakily took to the air. Another one took the shape of a python, which started dragging itself along the floor rather than slithering, and finally the last one took the shape of a wolf, with its coat tinged with wood color and legs unnaturally bent. 

All three rushed her way, and Lily watched her son with pride, accomplishing something that even a NEWT student would be incapable of. But then again, it was a foolish idea to try unmastered spells in a fight, especially if your opponent was far superior.

“Didn’t I tell you to not use the animation charm?” Lily shook her head at his bullheadedness. “Anyone accomplished could just strip them of their will or, worse, turn them against yourself.”

Lily thought about giving a demonstration for better comprehension and focused on the strands of magic clinging onto the animals, pushing her intent to overpower Harry’s.

And failed.

Eyes widening in alarm, she tried for a second time, getting panicked as the constructs didn’t budge an inch and neither let her overpower their intent.

She took a single step back, dragging her wand down, lips thinning in a straight line. 

Harry’s three-pronged attack was almost at a hugging distance when her wand rose in an arc, a sickle of white beam cleaving through them like a knife through the hot butter. The dissected parts flew past her and impacted against the back wall, and the wooden collision signified them reverting to their natural state.

To be forced to break her self imposed promise of not using a curse, Lily wondered if she was losing her touch.

Seeing Harry raising his wand for another attack, she pointed her wand at Harry’s feet. The stone beneath his feet bubbled like wax, covering his legs rapidly and finally trapping his arms and torso in the earthly embrace. Harry struggled against the enchantment before sighing, bowing his head.

“Damn it! I almost had you there.”

Lily rolled her eyes. As impressive as Harry’s magic had been, most of the fault lied with her. With the decrease in adrenaline, she looked back at Harry’s last effort with a critical eye, pride warring with a dozen other emotions for supremacy.

“Those weren’t normal animation charms, were they?” Lily could only think of one other way someone could achieve similar result but the thought of a fourth year doing such magic was ridiculous. Yet…

“You tried to incorporate the permanence of the transmutation into your temporary transfiguration, negating the weakness of overpowering intent from a superior opponent?”

Lily Potter released her son from her spell, checking him for any injuries that might have happened.

“That is incredible, Harry… truly exceptional. I think professor Dumbledore was the first wizard who pioneered that skill. To think you performed it at your age, even though it wasn’t perfect…”

Her son swelled in happiness before deflating like a punctured balloon. 

“But it didn’t work against you…” 

Lily returned her classroom to its normal state, snorting at his belief that she would be this easily beaten.

“Don’t take it to the heart, dear. I’m sure you will get there.” Lily consoled her morose son. “And that spell isn’t complete, anyway. In its perfected form, any external damage done to the constructs would be superficial, and the broken parts would still be under your command and unmutated.” A sliver of pride broke through her constraint. “A frightening ability…if mastered.”

Harry was in deep thought, eyes narrowed in contemplation before she cleared her throat, taking her seat at the front.

“I’m sure you can become the next dueling representative of our country with your dedication. Just imagine wowing thousands of people with your skill.”

Harry blinked, then shook himself. “About that… I am not sure if I want to be a professional dueler.”

“What? Then why are you putting so much effort?” 

Yes, she knew that not everybody learned these things to go to a competition, but certainly someone who was this obsessed about becoming a better dueler would have a specific motive?

When Harry flushed and averted meeting her eyes, Lily Potter realized she would need to get to the bottom of the issue.

Watching her son bade her good night, she rubbed the rough parchment laid out on her table, with tiny steps belonging to certain names scurrying like ants all over.

What is it you are hiding from your own mother, Harry?