"What the fuck was this little shit doing here!?" Sirius exclaimed in a shocked whisper, his eyes roaming over Kreacher's dead corpse with obvious distress.
Harry, however, could not tear his eyes off the locket.
At first glance, there was nothing odd about it apart from the foul magic, but his eyes widened when he noticed a certain detail.
The insignia of Slytherin was set into it in glittering green stones. It sat there innocently enough, but Harry couldn't tear his eyes away from it.
Because the feeling of foul magic, that overwhelming wrongness that made him want to vomit, was emanating from that locket in waves.
Harry forced himself to look away from it and turned back towards Kreacher's body. The wrongness of it all almost made him retch but he controlled himself. He knew when he was out of his depth, and this situation was way beyond anything he was prepared for. There was only one person he trusted to be capable enough to deal with… whatever all this was.
"Sirius, we need to contact Dumbledore. Now."
Sirius didn't respond immediately. He was still staring at Kreacher, his face twisted with anguish. Was it truly grief? Or perhaps guilt? The man had hated his house-elf, but seeing him like this, dead and alone in a basement...
"Sirius," Harry said more firmly.
"Right. Yeah." Sirius stood up slowly, his legs unsteady. "Dumbledore. He'll know what to do." He pulled out his wand with a shaking hand. "I'll send a Patronus."
"Can you even cast one in this state?" Harry asked. The answer came soon enough in the form of a silvery wisp that flickered to life for a moment before dissipating away.
"I'll do it."
The silvery stag burst from Harry's wand, slightly less substantial than the one he'd cast previously, and flickering at the edges. He spoke to it in a low voice. "Professor, it's urgent. Kreacher is dead in the basement of Grimmauld Place. There's something here you need to see. Dark magic, the worst I've ever felt. Please come immediately."
The Patronus bounded away through the ceiling, and they were left in the oppressive silence of the basement.
"Should we move him?" Harry asked quietly, gesturing at Kreacher's body.
"No." Sirius's voice was hoarse. "Better not touch anything until Dumbledore gets here. I don't know what the hell that locket is, but if it's giving off magic like that..." He trailed off, wrapping his arms around himself. "Merlin, Harry. My family kept this thing down here. What were they involved in?"
Harry didn't have an answer. He kept his distance from both the body and the locket, though his eyes kept being drawn back to it. The Slytherin serpent glittered in the light, beautiful and eerie at once.
They didn't have to wait long. Within five minutes, they heard footsteps on the stairs above. Sirius moved to the bottom of the basement steps. "Down here, Albus."
Dumbledore descended into the basement with surprising speed for a man of his age. He was wearing traveling robes of deep purple, his half-moon spectacles reflecting the light as he took in the scene. His expression, usually so placid and knowing, shifted immediately to one of deep concern.
It was apparent that he'd felt the foul magic from afar and that had added to the urgency.
"Oh dear," he said softly as he slowly approached Kreacher's body. "Poor creature."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop further as Dumbledore drew closer to the locket. Harry watched the headmaster's face carefully, and he saw the moment recognition and horror flickered across his features.
"Albus?" Sirius's voice was tight. "What is it?"
Dumbledore didn't answer. He knelt beside Kreacher, his wand moving in small, intricate patterns above the house-elf's body. Streams of golden light flowed from his wand, washing over the corpse. Harry saw the magic interact with something darker, something that clung to Kreacher like leeches.
"How long has he been dead?" Dumbledore asked, his voice carefully neutral.
"I don't know," Sirius said. "Could've been hours, could've been days. I don't exactly keep tabs on the little bastard." He winced. "Didn't keep tabs, I mean."
"And you found him like this? Neither of you touched anything?"
"No," Harry said quickly. "We just came down and found him. The knife, the locket, everything was exactly as you see it."
Dumbledore's wand moved to hover over the ornate knife protruding from Kreacher's chest. More golden light, more dark resistance. "This blade is old. Very old. Likely a Black family heirloom, given the craftsmanship."
"Loads of dark artifacts in this house," Sirius muttered. "My ancestors were collectors. Obsessive ones."
"Indeed." Dumbledore's attention shifted to the locket, and Harry saw his jaw tighten. The headmaster stood slowly, never taking his eyes off the small golden object. "Harry, Sirius, I need you both to step back. All the way to the stairs, if you would."
They didn't argue. The command in Dumbledore's voice was absolute. Harry grabbed Sirius's arm and pulled him back until they were standing at the base of the staircase, a good twenty feet from the locket.
Dumbledore approached it with the caution one might show a sleeping dragon. His wand was raised, his other hand outstretched but not touching. Harry watched as spell after spell flowed from the headmaster's wand, each one a different color, each one revealing something new.
The foul magic intensified. Harry felt bile rise in his throat and saw Sirius press his hand against his mouth.
"Merlin's beard," Sirius gasped. "What the hell is that thing?"
Dumbledore didn't answer. He was muttering under his breath now, incantations in Latin that Harry couldn't quite make out. The locket began to glow with a sickly green light, and for a moment, Harry thought he heard something. A whisper, perhaps, or a hiss. It sounded malicious.
Suddenly, Dumbledore stepped back. The green light faded, and he stood there in silence, his face grave.
"Professor?" Harry ventured.
"I will need to examine this more thoroughly," Dumbledore said, his voice heavy. "But I can tell you what it is, at least in part." He turned to face them, and Harry was struck by how old he looked suddenly. Tired and old and deeply troubled. "This is a locket that once belonged to Salazar Slytherin himself. A genuine artifact from the time of the Founders, over a thousand years old."
Sirius's eyes went wide. "You're joking. That's impossible. Something like that should be in a museum, or Gringotts, or... how the bloody hell did my family get hold of it?"
"That," Dumbledore said quietly, "is an excellent question. One I suspect only Kreacher could have answered, and he is beyond our reach now."
Harry's mind was racing. "How did it get down here? Did Kreacher bring it? Is that why he came down here, to hide it?"
"Perhaps." Dumbledore moved back to Kreacher's body, examining the positioning of the elf's hand, and the way it reached toward the locket. "Or perhaps he came down here to retrieve it. To take it somewhere, or to return it to wherever he found it."
"But why kill himself?" Sirius demanded. "House-elves don't just kill themselves. They're bound by magic to serve their families. Even if Kreacher hated me, even if he wanted to betray me, he couldn't just... end it."
"No," Dumbledore agreed softly. "They could not. Which means, Sirius, that something else happened here. Something that either drove Kreacher to break the most fundamental laws of house-elf magic, or..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Or something else killed him and made it appear as suicide."
The basement fell silent except for the sound of their breathing. Harry felt cold all over.
"The locket," he said. "It did something to him. Am I right?"
Dumbledore's eyes met his, and Harry saw confirmation there. "Yes, Harry. I believe it did. Though the exact mechanism will require further study."
"But how?" Sirius ran his hands through his hair, looking extremely stressed. "How can an object kill someone? Even a cursed object needs someone to activate it, to pick it up or wear it or—"
"If my hypothesis is correct, then this is no ordinary cursed object," Dumbledore interrupted gently. "This is something far more sinister. Something I had hoped never to encounter again, but it seems my hopes were in vain."
Harry's brows furrowed. "You know what it is. What it really is, I mean."
"I have suspicions," Dumbledore corrected. "Suspicions that I must confirm before I share them. To speak of such things without certainty would be irresponsible and potentially dangerous." He looked between them both. "I will need to take this locket with me. I will also need to examine Kreacher's body more thoroughly, though I suspect I will find little more than what is already evident."
"Which is?" Sirius asked.
"That he died in terrible pain, under the influence of extraordinarily dark magic, and that his death was likely not his choice." Dumbledore's voice was gentle but firm. "Sirius, you must not blame yourself for this. Whatever happened here, whatever led Kreacher to this basement with that locket, it began long before you returned to this house. It merely culminated recently."
Sirius's laugh was bitter. "Hard not to blame myself when it's my house-elf dead in my basement with a Slytherin artifact that my family apparently had stashed away somewhere."
"Your family's sins are not your own," Dumbledore said firmly. "You have spent your life rejecting everything they stood for. You cannot take responsibility for actions they took decades before you were even born."
Harry watched the exchange, and he knew there was more going on here than even Dumbledore was willing to share. The headmaster knew something about that locket, something terrible, and he wasn't ready to tell them yet.
"What do we do now?" Harry asked.
Dumbledore was quiet for a moment before he pulled a small cloth bag from his robes. He approached the locket again, this time using his wand to levitate it off the ground. Harry watched as the small golden object floated through the air, never once touching Dumbledore's skin, and settled into the bag. The headmaster pulled the drawstring tight and muttered several spells over it. The oppressive feeling in the room eased slightly, though it didn't disappear entirely.
"Now," Dumbledore said, tucking the bag carefully into an inner pocket of his robes, "I will take this to Hogwarts for study. I will also arrange for Kreacher's body to be examined by someone I trust, though we should not move him just yet. There are questions that need answering about the exact nature of his death."
"Someone you trust?" Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Why do I have a feeling I won't like this one bit?"
Dumbledore moved toward the stairs, pausing at the first step. "I must ask you both to speak of this to no one. What we have discovered here tonight is of the gravest importance, and information shared carelessly could have severe consequences."
Harry nodded immediately. He'd learned by now that when Dumbledore used that particular tone, you listened.
Sirius was slower to agree, his eyes still on Kreacher's body. "Yeah, alright. But Albus, you will tell us what this is all about? Eventually?"
"When I can, Sirius. I promise you that." Dumbledore climbed the stairs with them following close behind. They immediately felt the relief of leaving that oppressive basement behind. Harry sucked in deep breaths of the musty but comparatively clean air of the ground floor.
They emerged into the hallway, and Dumbledore closed the basement door firmly behind them. He waved his wand, and Harry heard several clicks as locking spells engaged.
"No one goes down there until I say otherwise," Dumbledore said. "Is that understood?"
"Crystal clear," Sirius said. "I need a drink. Or five."
"Moderation, Sirius." Dumbledore said kindly.
They moved into the kitchen, which felt almost cheerful compared to the basement despite its grime and gloom. Sirius immediately went to a cabinet and pulled out a fresh bottle of Firewhisky. He poured himself a generous measure and downed it in one go.
Dumbledore conjured a pot of tea and three cups. Harry accepted one gratefully, wrapping his hands around the warmth. His hands were shaking slightly, he realized.
"Harry," Dumbledore said gently, "how are you feeling?"
"Confused," Harry admitted. "And worried. That magic down there, it felt wrong in a way I can't really explain. Like it was corrupting everything around it."
"A very apt description," Dumbledore said. "You have good instincts, Harry. That will serve you well."
"But what does it mean?" Harry pressed. "Why would Kreacher have that locket? And why would it kill him?"
"Those are the questions I intend to answer," Dumbledore said. "But I will need time. This is not something to be rushed or handled carelessly. The magic involved is of the darkest kind, and a single misstep could be catastrophic."
Sirius poured himself another drink. "My family. They had to be involved in this somehow. The Blacks have always dabbled in dark magic, but this feels different. More serious."
"Your family, the Blacks, are an old and powerful line," Dumbledore said carefully. "They have, as you say, long been associated with the darker aspects of magic. It is entirely possible that this locket came into their possession through legitimate means—collectors often trade such artifacts—but it is equally possible that its acquisition was less innocent."
"You think they stole it?" Harry asked.
"I think," Dumbledore said, "that the locket's origin is currently unknown, and speculating serves little purpose. What matters now is understanding what it is and what danger it may pose."
There was something in the way Dumbledore said it that made Harry think the headmaster already knew more than he was saying. But pushing the old wizard when he'd clearly decided not to share information was useless. Harry had learned that lesson over the past few years.
"I should return to Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, setting down his teacup. "Time is of the essence in these matters. Harry, I believe it would be wise for you to return with me."
Harry blinked. "What? Why?"
"Because," Dumbledore said calmly, "you have been exposed to magic of an extremely dark nature tonight. I would like to ensure that you have suffered no ill effects, and the hospital wing is better equipped for such examinations than Grimmauld Place."
It made sense, Harry thought, though he felt fine apart from being shaken. "What about Sirius?"
"I'll be alright, Harry." Sirius's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Not the first time I've dealt with dark magic, won't be the last."
"I will send Remus to keep you company," Dumbledore said. "You should not be alone after such an ordeal."
Sirius looked like he might argue, but ultimately just nodded. "Yeah. Alright. Moony will probably want to see this place anyway."
Harry didn't want to leave Sirius alone so soon, but he also knew that Dumbledore was right. Whatever that locket was, it had affected him. There was a coldness in his chest that hadn't been there before entering the basement. His skin crawled, and he shuddered as he recalled how the magic had felt down there.
"Okay," he said.
He turned to Sirius who was looking lost and tired. The sight of him made Harry's chest tighten.
"Hey," Sirius said quietly. "Thanks for coming here today. I know you didn't have to."
"Of course I did," Harry said firmly. "You're family, Sirius. That's what family does."
Sirius's eyes went bright, and for a moment Harry thought he might actually cry. But he just pulled Harry into a brief, tight hug instead. "Get going before you make an old convict go soft," he muttered.
Dumbledore was waiting by the front door, his expression patient but urgent. "Ready, Harry?"
Harry nodded. He took one last look at Sirius standing in the dim hallway of his ancestral home, surrounded by the ghosts of his family's dark past, and wished desperately that he could do more to help.
Soon. Very soon. But now, they needed to understand what they were dealing with.
"Let's go," he said.
Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder, and Fawkes trilled above them. With a flash of phoenix fire, Grimmauld Place disappeared. They materialized in the middle of the Headmaster's Office, and Fawkes flew to his perch with a melodic trill that seemed to lighten his spirits considerably.
Dumbledore immediately moved to his desk, pulling the cloth bag containing the locket from his robes. He didn't open it, but placed it carefully on the desk, far from anything else. Then he began pulling books from his shelves, thick volumes with cracked spines and faded titles.
"Sit, Harry," he said absently, already flipping through one of the books.
Harry sat in one of the chairs facing the desk, watching as Dumbledore worked. The headmaster's fingers moved quickly through pages, his eyes scanning text at remarkable speed. Every so often he would pause, read something more carefully, then move on with a deepening frown.
"Professor," Harry tried after several minutes of silence. "That locket. It's not just an artifact, is it? It's something worse."
Dumbledore looked up from his book, his blue eyes tired behind his half-moon spectacles. "You are perceptive, Harry. Yes, I believe it is something far worse. But until I can confirm my suspicions, I cannot say more. I hope you understand."
Harry did, even if he didn't like it. "Will you tell me? When you know for sure?"
"Yes," Dumbledore said softly, closing the book before him. "I will tell you. You have earned the right to know, and I suspect that before this is over, you will need to know." He looked at Harry with an expression that was both sad and resolute. "But I warn you now, Harry—the truth, when it comes, will not be pleasant. What we discovered tonight is only the beginning, I fear, of a much larger and darker picture."
Harry swallowed hard. "I can handle it."
"I know you can," Dumbledore said quietly. "That is what troubles me most." He stood and moved around the desk. "For now, I must ask you to be patient. Let me conduct my research, confirm what I suspect. In the meantime, you should return to Gryffindor Tower. Try to rest, though I imagine sleep will be difficult tonight."
Harry stood as well, realizing he was being dismissed. Part of him wanted to argue, to demand answers right now, but he could see the worry on Dumbledore's face. Whatever the headmaster suspected about that locket, it was serious enough to shake even him.
"Will Sirius be alright?" Harry asked.
"Remus will be with him shortly." Dumbledore placed a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder. "Sirius is stronger than he appears, Harry. He has survived Azkaban and everything it came with. He will survive this as well."
Harry nodded, though he wasn't entirely convinced. The look on Sirius's face when they'd found Kreacher kept replaying in his mind. Not just shock or horror, but something deeper. Guilt, maybe, or grief for a creature he'd claimed to hate.
"Goodnight, Professor," Harry said quietly.
"Goodnight, Harry. And remember—speak of this to no one."
The castle was quiet at this hour, the corridors empty and dark except for the occasional torch. His footsteps echoed off the stone walls as he made his way toward Gryffindor Tower. He hadn't even realized it had gotten so late.
As he walked, he constantly recalled the feeling of the dark magic they'd encountered. The memory of that locket, gleaming with its serpent insignia, wouldn't leave his mind. Whatever it was, whatever Dumbledore suspected, Harry had a terrible feeling that it was connected to Voldemort somehow.
Everything dark and terrible always seemed to lead back to him.
When Harry finally reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, she was dozing in her frame. He gave the password quietly, not wanting to wake anyone else in the castle. The common room was empty, the fire burned down to embers. He climbed the stairs to the dormitory, where Ron's snores greeted him.
Harry changed into his pajamas mechanically, his mind still in that basement with Kreacher's body and the overwhelming wrongness of the magic. He lay in bed staring at the ceiling, knowing that sleep would be a long time coming.
And in the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore sat at his desk surrounded by books, staring at the small cloth bag with an expression of profound dread.
-Break-
It had been three days she they'd found the locket in Grimmauld Place's basement, and the memory, the sheer wrongness and the malevolent dark magic he'd felt kept circling back to his mind, making his skin crawl whenever he thought about it.
Dumbledore had taken it for examination, but Harry hadn't heard back yet, and the waiting was getting to him.
He was flying on his Firebolt, but his mind was elsewhere. What if the locket was connected to Voldemort somehow? Despite having no evidence, he couldn't shake off that line of thought.
He spotted the Durmstrang ship anchored in the distance and eased back on his speed, circling lazily over the lake as he tried to gather his scattered thoughts. The locket could wait. Dumbledore would tell him if there was anything to worry about. No point in obsessing over it when he had no new information.
As he flew, he saw movement near the tree line, and his eyes narrowed. He dropped his altitude to get a better look, his grip tightening on the Firebolt.
As he got closer, the figure's details became clearer. A woman, definitely. Tall, slim build, with dark hair. She was wearing a thick woolen jumper and dark trousers.
He was about twenty feet from the ground when he got a good look at her, and he recognized her immediately.
Natalia.
What was she doing here? Viktor Krum's diva girlfriend wandering around the edges of the Forbidden Forest like she was out for a Sunday stroll? This was the last place he would've expected to find her.
Harry brought the Firebolt down in a smooth landing about ten feet behind her. She was still focused on the forest, peering between the trees.
"I wouldn't go in there if I were you."
Natalia whirled around so fast she nearly lost her balance. One hand flew to her chest, pressing against the fabric of her jumper as her eyes went wide with shock. Her breath came out in a sharp gasp.
"Merlin!" she exclaimed, her accent thickening with surprise. "You almost gave me a heart attack!"
Harry couldn't help but chuckle. "Sorry about that. Didn't mean to sneak up on you."
Recognition dawned on her, and her expression immediately transformed.
"Harry Potter," she said breathlessly. "Do you make a habit of scaring women half to death?"
"Only when they look like they're about to do something stupid," Harry replied easily, propping his Firebolt against his shoulder. "The Forbidden Forest isn't called that for decoration, you know."
Natalia's hand slowly dropped from her chest, though her eyes never left his face. A small smile played at the corners of her mouth. "Always so concerned for everyone's safety. Is that part of being Hogwarts champion, or just your natural charm?"
"Bit of both, probably." He took a few steps closer, closing some of the distance between them. "Seriously though, what are you doing out here all alone?"
She tilted her head, a calculating and interested look on her face as she smiled at him. There was nothing innocent about that smile.
"Can't a girl take a walk without being interrogated?" She asked teasingly, that slight accent making her words sound almost musical. "Maybe I enjoy the privacy. The quiet. Time to think without Viktor hovering over my shoulder or my friends chattering about the latest gossip."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Right. And you just happened to wander to the exact spot where you'd be staring into the one place students are explicitly forbidden to enter."
"I was admiring the scenery."
"The trees look pretty much the same from the castle windows."
"But the danger is different from up close, no?" Natalia's smile widened. She took a step toward him, her movements exaggerated and graceful. Harry couldn't help but stare a bit. "Tell me, Harry Potter, do you always question beautiful women about their motivations, or am I special?"
There it was. The flirting, the teasing. She was so natural that Harry almost wanted to applaud. She was good at this—the game, the dance, whatever one wanted to call it. He'd seen it before, that day by the lake when she'd made a show of changing her clothes, and unbidden, the memory came back to him.
"You're definitely something," Harry said, matching her tone. "But I'm not sure 'special' is quite the word I'd use."
A flicker of surprise crossed her face, but she quickly masked it.
"Oh?" She moved closer still, close enough now that he could smell her perfume. "And what word would you use?"
"Trouble," Harry replied without hesitation. "Definitely trouble."
Natalia let out a delighted laugh that lit up her features. "I've been called worse. Much worse."
"Is that so?"
"Mm-hmm," she nodded. "Tell me, what brings you out here then? Our for a fly?"
"Needed to clear my head. Got a lot on my mind lately."
"Ah yes, I've heard. Your little business venture with those twins. The magical lozenges everyone's been talking about. Very entrepreneurial of you."
"You've been following the news about that?" Harry asked, genuinely curious.
"Hard not to when your face is in every other issue of the newspaper these days." Natalia glanced at him over her shoulder, a small smirk on her face. "The Boy Who Lived branches out into business. It's quite the story."
"Fred and George deserve most of the credit," Harry said honestly. "They're the ones who came up with the concept, figured out the entire process. I just provided the funding and helped with the testing."
"How modest." She teased, but there was approval in her voice. She turned back toward the forest, feeling him step closer. "I've heard stories about this place," she said. "Acromantula the size of houses. Centaurs who practice divination. Unicorns in the deeper parts. Even rumors of werewolves, but I'm not sure I believe that one."
"Depends on the time of month," Harry said casually.
She shot him a sharp look. "You're joking."
"Maybe." He said with a mysterious smile. "But everything else you mentioned is true. Along with a few other things I guess you haven't heard about."
"Like what?"
"Like the three-headed dog Hagrid used to keep. The colony of Bowtruckles near the eastern edge. The thestrals that pull the carriages from Hogsmeade station." Harry watched her carefully as he spoke. "The forest is dangerous, but it's also fascinating if you know what you're looking at."
Natalia's eyes had lit up with each word. "You've been in there."
"More times than I'd like to admit."
"And you've seen all these things? The acromantula, the centaurs, everything?"
"Unfortunately, yes." Harry grimaced slightly. "The acromantula particularly. I'd be happy never to see another one of those for the rest of my life."
"But you'd go back in," Natalia said. It wasn't a question. She'd turned to face him fully now, her gaze more intense than before. "Despite the danger. Despite knowing what's in there."
"If I had a reason to, sure."
"So you're a thrill seeker," she said with a provocative smile. "I wouldn't have guessed. You seem so... controlled. But underneath, you like the danger just as much as I do."
The innuendo was impossible to miss. The way she said 'thrill seeker,' the emphasis on 'danger,' the slow once-over she gave him as she spoke—it was all intentional. All designed to provoke a reaction.
And well, if that's what she wanted…
Harry's smirk widened as he raked his eyes over her form, taking in the curves emphasized even in her winter attire. Her eyes gleamed at his little gesture, and Harry didn't miss it at all.
"Is that what you are? A thrill seeker?" He asked, taking a step closer.
"Among other things." Natalia stepped closer as well, and now they were definitely in each other's personal space. Her voice was soft and breathy. "I like experiences that make my heart race. That make me feel truly alive. Don't you?"
"Depends on the experience," Harry said easily. His eyes met hers confidently. "Some thrills are worth the risk. Others are just stupid."
"Worth the risk, hmm?" She asked, and the look in her eyes was unmistakable. "And which category would exploring the Forbidden Forest fall into?"
"With the right preparation and the right guide? Worth it. Wandering in alone with no idea what you're walking into?" He shook his head. "That's just asking for trouble."
"If only there was someone familiar with the forest…" She murmured, a coy look on her face. "Someone who knows it well. Someone who has survived it multiple times. If someone wanted to see these fascinating creatures for themselves..."
The invitation was clear, but they both knew it went well beyond a simple request for a tour. The way she was looking at him, the subtle body language, the tone of her voice… it was quite clear that Natalia wasn't just asking to see the forest, but something more. Much more.
"If someone wanted to see the forest," Harry said slowly, drawing his words out, "I guess I could find some time. Assuming that someone was really serious about it all."
"Oh, I'm very serious." Natalia gave him a suggestive smirk. "But I have to know something."
"And what would that be?"
"Is this you asking me out, Harry Potter? Me, knowing I'm Viktor Krum's girlfriend?"
Harry smirked. This one really liked to play.
"For some reason, I get the feeling that's not something that worries you at all."
There was no denying the raw tension crackling between them right now. Natalia's eyes widened, and for just a second, her carefully maintained mask slipped. Surprise, yes, but also something hotter. More intense. Like he'd just said exactly what she'd been hoping to hear.
"Well," she said, her voice dropping lower, becoming more intimate. "You're certainly more perceptive than people give you credit for."
"I pay attention when it matters."
"Does that mean I matter, Harry?"
"You're standing here talking to me instead of being wherever Viktor thinks you are," Harry pointed out. "That makes it clear you think this matters."
Natalia laughed throatily. "You're dangerous," she said. "I'm starting to understand why Delacour looks at you the way she does. Or the few other girls I've seen around. That redhead, for example. And the one you sit with at breakfast."
So she had been noticing his interaction with the girls. Interesting. He wondered just how long it had been going on.
"And in what way do they look at me?" he asked lightly.
"They look at you like they know exactly what they're getting, and they want it more than anything else." Natalia moved even closer, close enough now that he could feel the warmth of her body despite the winter chill. "Rather like how I'm looking at you right now, I imagine."
The flirtation had crossed a line, moving from playful to explicit. They both knew it. And neither of them was backing down.
"So, about our little excursion into the forest," Natalia continued, her voice soft and breathy even though there was no one nearby. "I guess something like that would require... compensation. You'd be taking a risk, after all. Breaking rules. I'd hate for you to feel like you weren't getting anything out of it."
Harry's smile turned sharp. "What are you suggesting, Natalia?"
"I'm suggesting a mutually beneficial exchange," she said, her eyes were dancing with barely suppressed excitement. "You saved me in the lake. Now you will show me the wonders of the Forbidden Forest. It's only fair that I show you my... appreciation. Everyone walks away satisfied."
Merlin, she was bold. Harry had to give her credit for that. No coy deflection, no pretending she meant something innocent. Just straight to the point.
"I guess we can come to an arrangement," Harry said, matching her directness with his own. "But I'd want to make sure we're both clear on the terms before we venture anywhere together."
"Oh, I think we're perfectly clear." Natalia's hand came up, one finger trailing lightly down the front of his jacket. "The question is whether you're brave enough to follow through, Harry Potter. Or is all this confidence just talk?"
He caught her wrist gently, stopping her before she could pull away entirely. Their eyes locked, and the challenge in his gaze matched hers.
"Meet me right here after dinner," Harry said quietly.
For a moment, neither of them moved. They stared into each other's eyes, feeling the raw sexual tension that had slowly been building between them since that fateful day when she'd decided to treat him with a show.
After what felt like hours but had been mere seconds, Harry released her wrist and stepped back, swinging his leg over the Firebolt. He kicked off without another word and shot upward into the sky.
Below, Natalia stood frozen on the shoreline, her wrist tingling where he'd held it. Her heart was pounding—not from being startled this time, but from pure, undiluted excitement. The kind she hadn't felt in years.
"Merlin," she breathed, watching his figure grow smaller.
The complications this could create were numerous and messy and potentially disastrous for everyone involved.
And she didn't care.
She'd spent months playing it safe, being the dutiful girlfriend, letting Viktor dictate the boundaries of their relationship.
Harry Potter had just looked her in the eye and matched her move for move, unflinching and direct in a way that made her heart flutter and her pussy throb with anticipation.
Tonight. After dinner. Right here.
It was really happening.
TBC.
Visit patreon.com/TheBlackEarl to read more of my work. The username is the same on all other sites where I post, so you can find me anywhere else using the same. Thanks for reading!