Chapter 11 - Birthday Mischiefs
The ballroom of Potter Manor was nothing short of grand. High ceilings adorned with crystal chandeliers reflected the soft glow of enchanted candles, while silk banners in deep crimson and gold floated effortlessly along the walls. Harry was adjusting a banner that had gone slightly askew, stepping back to inspect his handiwork. Beside him, Lily Potter directed a hovering charm to straighten a row of golden fairy lights that twinkled like stars.
"You're doing a fine job, Harry," Lily said warmly, her wand making a flick to tighten the bow on a nearby garland. "You must have inherited some of my eye for detail."
Harry smirked. "And here I thought it was Dad's ability to charm anything into place."
Lily laughed softly, brushing a strand of auburn hair from her face. "No, your father's approach usually involved some chaotic explosion first. Speaking of which, where is he? He should be helping with this too."
"Last I saw him, he was trying to convince Rose to go 'taste-test' some the desserts," Harry replied with a grin.
Lily groaned, muttering under her breath about James being a perpetual child.
"Not to mention, Julius will never forgive him if he ruined the desserts," Harry added, trying not to laugh upon imagining the elf's royally pissed expression.
As she adjusted the final strand of fairy lights, Harry's attention shifted to the far side of the room, where Hermione stood by a table laden with decorations. She was holding a garland of ivy, her brows furrowed in concentration as though trying to decide what to do with it.
Lily followed his gaze, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "You should go help her. That garland looks like it's giving her more trouble than it should."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "You think she needs my help?"
"I think," Lily said with a pointed look, "that you could use a break from hovering around me all day. Go on, Harry. I'll finish up here."
Harry caught the glint of mischief in his mother's eyes but decided not to argue. If his Mum wanted him to be with Hermione, why the hell would he ever argue?
Wandering over to his best friend, or rather as he realized wincing, his former best friend, he cleared his throat softly to announce his presence.
"Need a hand?" he asked casually.
Hermione startled, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Oh! Harry. I didn't see you there."
"Sorry," he said, grinning. "Didn't mean to sneak up on you."
She gave a small, nervous laugh, clutching the garland tighter. "No, it's fine. I was just… um… trying to figure out where this should go."
Harry tilted his head, studying the garland. "Looks like it belongs along the railing over there," he said, pointing to the staircase. "Want me to help you hang it?"
Hermione hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Sure. That would be… helpful."
Harry took one end of the garland, and together they began draping it along the staircase railing. The silence between them stretched awkwardly at first, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves.
"So," Harry began, attempting to ease the tension, "what do you think of all this?" He gestured vaguely to the decorated ballroom. "Bit over the top, isn't it?"
Hermione glanced around, her lips curving into a faint smile. "It's… impressive. I mean, it's your birthday, after all."
"And a national holiday," he quipped making her smile slightly.
"That too," she agreed, her tone light. "You deserve something grand," she cleared her throat, "You both do."
Harry chuckled. "Grand, sure. But this feels like Mum and Dad are trying to host the Christmas Ball or something. All I wanted was a quiet evening."
"Quiet?" Hermione repeated, arching an eyebrow. "You? The reigning Under-17 European duelling champion? Somehow, I doubt that."
Harry grinned, leaning against the railing as they finished securing the garland. "I'd trade all the tournaments in the world for a quiet walk in the countryside. Don't tell my parents, though. They'd be crushed."
Hermione's smile widened, and she relaxed a little, leaning against the railing beside him. "I wouldn't have guessed you liked quiet walks. You seem more… I don't know. Adventurous."
Harry shrugged. "I've had enough adventure to last a lifetime, to be honest. Sometimes, it's nice to just… breathe, you know?"
Hermione nodded, her expression softening. "I do know."
For a moment, silence fell between them again, but this time it was less awkward and more companionable. Harry glanced at her, noting the faint pink tinge on her cheeks and the way she kept fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve.
"You're nervous," he said gently.
Hermione's eyes widened. "What? No, I'm not!"
Harry raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "You're fidgeting with your sleeve," he said, looking down at her hand, "You only do that when you're nervous."
"How do yo-" She opened her mouth to protest but then sighed, a surprised smile tugging at her lips. "Fine. Maybe a little. It's just… I'm not used to all this. The grand manor, the decorations, the… well, you."
"Me?" Harry repeated, genuinely surprised.
She narrowed her eyes. "You're quite observant."
A laughter rumbled in his throat. "That's all you understood about me so far? I'm hurt!"
Hermione looked down, her cheeks turning redder. "You're… different from what I expected. John talks about you a lot, but actually spending time with you is… I don't know. You're not what I imagined."
Harry tilted his head, intrigued about what John might be saying about him to his friends but decided to not ask. At least not now. "And what did you imagine?"
She hesitated, biting her lip before replying. "Someone more… aloof, I guess. But you're… kind. And funny. And—" She cut herself off, realizing she was rambling. "Never mind."
Harry chuckled, his green eyes sparkling with amusement. "I'll take that as a compliment."
Hermione laughed nervously. "It was meant to be one."
They stood in silence for a moment, the soft hum of magic and faint music filling the air. Then, to her surprise, Harry leaned closer, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper.
"So, what's the real reason you're nervous? Is it the decorations? Or are you secretly worried I'll ask you to dance later?"
Hermione's eyes widened, and she stammered, "W-what? No! I mean… I wouldn't mind, but—"
Harry burst out laughing, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Relax, Hermione. I was just joking."
She glared at him, though there was no real heat in her expression. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"I've been told," he said, grinning.
Hermione shook her head, though a small smile tugged at her lips. "You're not what I imagined at all, Harry Potter."
"Good," he said simply. "I'd hate to be predictable."
--_ -- - .
Their laughter echoed softly through the ballroom, and for the first time in what felt like ages, Hermione felt completely at ease. As she looked at Harry, her heart fluttered unexpectedly, and she couldn't help but wonder if perhaps—just perhaps—this version of Harry Potter was someone she could grow to care for, not just as a friend, but as something more.
He was leaning back against the railing, his eyes lingering on her for a moment longer than she thought he'd intended. She wasn't dressed in anything particularly fancy, just a fitted pair of dark jeans and a soft, grey jumper that hugged her frame. Her casual Muggle clothes stood out in the grandeur of the magical manor, but she didn't care. She wasn't trying to be charming or anything.
She noticed his gaze dropping to her hands, while she was still nervously tugging at the hem of her jumper, then back up to her face—her cheeks flushed, her curls framing her slightly anxious expression.
She really did look out of place in this world of manors and their grand ballrooms, but somehow, that only made made that strange feeling within her return.
Hermione caught him looking and shifted uncomfortably. "What?" she asked, her voice tinged with self-consciousness.
Harry blinked, realizing he'd been caught staring. "Nothing," he said quickly, clearing his throat. "Just… thinking you must be roasting in that jumper with all this magic warming the room."
She glanced down at herself, her brows furrowing. "Oh. Well, I didn't know what the dress code was for… setting up decorations. I didn't want to look underdressed."
Harry smiled, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. "Trust me, you look fine."
Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she gave him a small, dubious smile. "That's not very reassuring."
Harry chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. "Alright, fine. You look… good. Better than good." His words came out in a rush, and he looked like he immediately regretted how earnest they sounded.
Hermione's cheeks turned pink, and she glanced away, her fingers tugging at the hem of her jumper again. "Thanks," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Harry couldn't help but notice the way her hair fell across her shoulder as she looked down, a few stray curls brushing against the curve of her neck. There was a sudden urge to reach out and tuck the strands behind her ear, but he shoved his hands into his pockets instead. He was fidgeting and he wanted to stop.
"So," he said, trying to steer the conversation back to safer territory, "You are staying for the party tonight, right?"
Hermione looked back at him, her expression unreadable. "Of course. Your mum invited me personally. It'd be rude not to."
"Rude," Harry echoed, smirking. "Right. That's the only reason you're coming."
Hermione stiffened slightly, her brows knitting together. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Harry shrugged, his smirk widening. "Just that you could've made an excuse if you really wanted to. But you didn't."
"I—" Hermione faltered, her lips parting as if she wanted to protest, but no words came out. She closed her mouth and crossed her arms over her chest, clearly flustered. "You're insufferable sometimes, you know that?"
"I've been told," he replied smoothly, leaning a little closer. "But you're still here, so I must not be that bad."
Hermione's heart skipped a beat as his deep emerald eyes locked onto hers. There was something about the way he looked at her—like he could see right through her usual composure. It made her feel exposed, vulnerable, and yet… she couldn't bring herself to pull away.
Her chest felt tight, and she didn't understand why. She'd known Harry for years—well, she'd known John's twin Harry. Not this Harry. This Harry was different. This Harry wasn't one of her best friend's twin brother, a distant figure she barely interacted with. He was standing right in front of her, impossibly close, his gaze warm and his smile teasing.
He was in many ways, the opposite of his brother. Where John was impatient, Harry seemed calm. Where John was reckless, Harry seemed... deliberate. Where John sought the spotlight, Harry looked like he preferred the shadows. And where John's words were wrought with impulse, Harry's carried the weight of quiet conviction.
And for reasons she couldn't quite explain, her stomach fluttered every time he so much as looked at her.
Hermione broke eye contact, pretending to straighten a strand of the garland. "I'm only here because your mum asked for help. That's all."
"Uh-huh," Harry said, clearly unconvinced.
She turned to glare at him, but the heat in her cheeks betrayed her. "Don't you have better things to do than stand here and tease me?"
"Not really," he admitted, grinning.
Hermione huffed, trying to ignore the way her heart sped up every time he smiled at her. "You're impossible."
"And you're avoiding the question," he countered, stepping just a fraction closer. "Are you excited about the party?"
"I'm… not sure," she said honestly, her voice softer now. "Big parties aren't really my thing."
"Mine neither," Harry said, pleasantly surprising her again. "But you'll be there, so it can't be all bad."
Hermione looked up at him, her breath catching in her throat. There was no teasing in his tone this time, no trace of the playful smirk he usually wore. He was looking at her with a quiet sincerity that made her chest tighten even more.
She didn't know what to say. Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion—memories flashing faintly in the back of her mind, memories where she and Harry had been much more than friends. She hadn't told anyone about those fragments of the past that she remembered, not even John. And now, standing here with Harry, she felt like she was teetering on the edge of something she didn't quite understand. How could she? The past she dreamed or perhaps, imagined, hadn't really happened after all.
She just hoped that she wasn't going mad.
But again, how was she reminiscing about a past that never happened?
"Well," Harry said after a moment, his voice breaking the silence, "If it starts to get overwhelming, you can always come find me. I'll probably be hiding in the corner somewhere."
Hermione smiled, the tension in her chest easing just slightly. "Hiding at your own party? How very heroic of you."
Harry grinned. "Even heroes need a break sometimes."
Hermione laughed softly, the sound light and carefree. She was surprised for a moment as to how great it felt to be here with Harry. For a brief moment, the world around them seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them standing by the staircase, the garland of ivy twinkling softly in the background.
"Thanks, Harry," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.
"For what?"
"For… making me feel a little less out of place," she admitted, her cheeks flushing again.
Harry's smile softened. "Always."
As they stood there, their eyes meeting once more, neither of them could quite shake the feeling that something unspoken lingered between them.
"By the way, can I have a dance or two, Hermione?"
Hermione gazed up at him but before she could answer, John was there, pulling her away to go look at something.
She felt Harry's eyes tracing her to the threshold of the door before her senses were overwhelmed by too many lights, too many voices, and her two best friends.
She smiled and when questioned about what she'd been talking with Harry, said nothing of importance and dismissed it. But she saw Ron looking at her suspiciously and John who was oblivious to everything had started chattering, and she shrugged.
It was not anyone's business who she wanted to be friends with.
Or more.
--_ -- - .
Lily groaned slightly and turned to her husband. The party was in full swing and they were all busy with one thing or another.
"My legs are killing me," she pointed to an empty chair near the wall beside some of her former classmates, "I'm going to go sit for a while."
James gave her a kiss. "I'll fetch you when it's time to open the ball," he promised.
No sooner had she left than his best friend accosted him. "Prongs."
"Padfoot," James said, taking a drink off of an elf. "You look like you're enjoying yourself."
Sirius grinned widely, nursing his whisky. "I can't complain," he said looking around.
"I'm not even going to ask," Prongs shook his head. "Nothing good can come off from that grin."
Sirius turned to him then, giving him a disappointed look. "It's really the end times when Harry is becoming more fun than you."
James stilled, now suspicious. "What did you do?"
When Sirius only smirked, his friend groaned. "Don't tell me you've exposed my son to your licentiousness."
"Only a little," Sirius confirmed shamelessly, "Remember that intern at the French Ministry?"
James nodded thoughtfully. "Didn't she hate your guts?"
"That's old news," Sirius said dismissively. "I'm afraid that she is now a receptionist and no longer immune to my charms."
"You're a bad influence on my children," James wagged a finger at him.
"Only Harry," Sirius quipped. "John is immature and your daughters are still children."
"Harry is fourteen!" James protested.
"Doesn't mean he can't be exactly like his Dad or his Godfather," Sirius shot back.
"Please stay away from my son, Padfoot," James sighed. "If Lily comes to know of this, she'll kill you and then me."
"I don't think Lily would mind," Sirius jested and when his best friend looked at him like he was mental, he held up his hands. "Didn't you tell me Lily was advising Harry to purse that Greengrass chit?"
"True, but he still should be careful. He's getting a lot of attention right now." James closed his eyes in defeat. "Don't give Harry any new ideas." he said finally.
"I have to tell you the bad news then," Sirius began mournfully, pausing dramatically to make his friend pay attention, "Harry is well and truly corrupted."
"That's on me then for letting you spend so much time with him." James put his head into his hands.
"Oh don't be stupid, Prongs!" Sirius admitted conspiringly, "I'm not even sure if Harry needed any of my influence in the first place, you know."
"I have no idea what that means and I'm not sure I want to know," James finished his drink.
Sirius chuckled and leaned in closer to James, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Let's just say, Harry has a certain... charm. And I think he may be using it on an older witch."
James gulped. "How old?"
"Thirty-two."
James' eyes widened in shock, and he nearly spat out the drink he had just taken. "What? No, that's not possible!"
Suddenly, he had an intense urge to dart his eyes around the room to make sure no one was listening in on their conversation. "You can't be serious, Padfoot! Harry is only fourteen!"
Sirius chuckled and clapped James on the back. "Ah, come on, Prongs! You're not going to tell me you didn't have your fair share of... adventures at that age? Both of us did!"
"That was different!" James hissed.
Sirius looked amused. "How? Considering Harry is twice as mature as we were at his age?"
James rubbed at his temples. "Why did you have to tell me this, Padfoot?"
"Because you're his father and you should know," Sirius shrugged. "After what you've revealed to me, you need all the help you can get."
James sighed. "Yes, that's right. Merlin, I'm still getting used to this parenting thing and I have four kids!"
Sirius got him another drink. "Then don't ask me the name of the witch."
James froze. "Do I know her?"
Sirius smirked.
"I told you not to ask me that, Prongs."
"Padfoot," James gritted in exasperation. "Tell me who is the witch."
"Bella."
James choked.
--_ -- - .
Harry saw guest after guest descend upon their Manor in an unending stretch and willed himself for patience for what felt like the eleventh time.
Upon receiving yet another bout of congratulations from a couple he didn't even know the names of, he plastered a smile on his face and welcomed them to the ball. When they'd passed, another took their place and he had to do the same all over again.
He took a look at his brother was who doing the same thing as he was nearby and sighed. He'd long since lost track of how many times John had thrown him a glare—and, unsurprisingly, it seemed to align perfectly with the number of heartfelt and enthusiastic birthday wishes Harry had received, along with loud congratulations for his victory in the duelling tournament that John hadn't.
Over the course of a single day, Harry had become a worldwide sensation and had cemented his name as a powerful wizard while John had become a second-fiddle in even his own country.
As much as Harry loved his family, he didn't know how to make his jealous brother believe that he'd never desired the fame.
He had just prepared himself for the guest number one hundred and twenty-eight when he heard his name and a familiar witch walked up to him and embraced him.
"Claire! It's so good to see you!" he said, happily. "Welcome to the Potter Manor!"
As she pulled back, he took a better look at her and felt his blood rushing in every direction he didn't want it to, not at this time. Her velvety dark hair falling down her back, she was wearing a fitted, long-sleeved dress made of luxurious silk or velvet, in a rich, jewel-toned colour of emerald green. The dress was knee-length, with a subtle flair at the hem that hints at her curves. The neckline was modest yet tantalizing, with a delicate scoop that framed her décolletage.
The real pièce de résistance, however, was the intricate lace overlay that adorned the bodice of her dress. Delicate floral patterns danced across her skin, adding a touch of whimsy and romance to the overall design. The lace was so fine it appeared almost like a second skin, accentuating her curves and giving her an air of subtle sensuality.
It was with great reluctance that he tore his eyes away from her and greeted her parents, who went by the names of Mathieu and Vivienne Gauthier.
Her father was built like a giant, towering over literally everyone in the vicinity with his six and a half-foot frame, with dark hair and sharp intelligent grey eyes reminiscent of his daughter. From the way he shook Harry's hand, his posture alert and his movements fluid, his magic heavy and forbidding, very complimentary of a Senior Auror, he knew he was looking at the parent from where Claire got all of her violent tendencies.
Her mother, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. She was petite and blue-eyed, her greyish blonde hair falling gently down to the middle of her back, and her smile quite artless. Her magic was dense and light like the Sun, giving him a sense of peace and harmony and...something inspiring. Harry kissed the back of her hand, and she seemed to have given him her approbation in just under a minute of talking.
He took a glance at Claire to see that she was beaming at him.
As Harry left them on their own to join the party and went back to his host duties, he smiled slightly to himself.
Even if this evening ended up being a complete bore, which he doubted but still, he knew that the night would be awesome.
--_ -- - .
As soon as he was free, Harry was sidling up to Bella to voice some of his pertinent thoughts.
"So do I have to thank you for inviting Claire and her family?"
Bella met his gaze in a knowing way. "And your mother. She was surprised but happy to add the former champion to her list of invitees."
Harry looked a little bashful. "What did you tell her?"
His godmother couldn't hide her mirth. "There is no need to hide things from your mother, Harry."
"That's not what I asked," he shook his head. "She already thinks I like Hermione, and before that, she's already encouraged me to allow Daphne into my life. Now, you've informed her about Claire."
Bella laughed. "Look at you, only fourteen and drowning in witches."
Harry glared at her. "It's not funny."
She only laughed harder. "It's as if you thought that all your trysts will remain hidden forever."
"I do not have trysts!"
Bella was too amused to offer a protest.
"Really, I don't," Harry pinched his nose in irritation. "What will she think of me?"
Bella patted his arm. "Nothing but that you're a ladies' man. It's fine!"
"But I don't want her to think that!" he said defensively, frustrated with himself. Bella sensed his mood and began to pull him towards the balcony. He didn't protest as she brought him away from the attentive eyes in the ballroom into the free and open air.
"Harry, I want you to listen to me carefully, alright?" she said seriously. "Lily doesn't think badly of you. None of us do. There's not much you can do that will make any of us think badly of you."
"Us?" he said faintly.
Bella raised an eyebrow. "You don't think your mother will keep any secrets from your father, right?" He groaned. "And Sirius is a bigger gossip than the reporters for Witch Weekly. I swear if he wasn't so afraid of Lily busting his balls, he would detail every one of his little assignations to her as diligently as he does to James."
"So everyone knows everything that happens in my life," he sighed.
"I'm not sure if that's such a bad thing," Bella shrugged, and for the first time, Harry properly noticed what she was wearing from up close and what the movements of her shoulders did to jostle the heavy burdens on her chest. "We're family."
"You're right," Harry agreed reluctantly, tearing his gaze away from her tits and looking out at the Manor grounds. "It just feels weird."
"Not when you understand that your mother knows that you're your father's son," Bella deadpanned.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Harry asked but immediately knew he shouldn't have because he was suddenly faced with a mischievous Bella.
"Forget I asked," Harry turned and began to walk back towards the ballroom but Bella took a hold his arm with both hands and brought him back.
"Not so fast, Harry. You should know that both your father and godfather were shameless womanizers back in the day," she replied with great enthusiasm. Harry was trying hard to focus on her words and not on the way she was holding his arm to her chest, lodged neatly in between her tits. He could simply wiggle his fingers a little to feel the top of her creamy mountains. "When your mother got together with your father, it didn't escape her notice that most of the Hogwarts population wanted to either worship her or kill her."
"Didn't Dad chase Mum since the first year?"
"That doesn't mean he didn't fuck other witches until Lily finally agreed to go out with him."
"Right," Harry cleared his throat, "Thank you for that piece of information."
Bella gave him a saucy smirk. "Anytime, Harry."
Harry freed his arm, letting his fingers gently caress the skin of her exposed chest. His eyes greedily took in how the plunging neckline of her dress offered a tantalizing view of the valley between her breasts. That deep red velvet piece looked so exquisite on her that he felt an intense stirring within him to turn the tables on her.
And he did, because in the next moment, he was pushing her back towards the wall, hidden from prying eyes, his left palm directly bent on manhandling her peaks through the luxurious texture of the fabric. Supporting himself through his right hand on the wall, he leaned in closer to bury his nose in her scented hair.
The sounds that came out of her mouth made him want to throw her over his shoulders and escape to his room. But he resisted, but just barely.
"You were saying, Bella?"
The naked desire in her eyes was too visceral and as his fingers tweaked her nipple through the smooth fabric, he felt her shudder and back arched right into his grasp.
"That's good, Harry. Slowly...slowly," she was saying, her gaze never moving an inch from his own, "Don't rush. You're doing so good."
The air was suddenly too heavy and his clothes too tight and bothersome. And here, on his birthday party, right in the middle of a hundred guests, he was tempted to abandon all caution and give in.
His lips found her neck again and he sucked hard, making a breathless moan spill from her mouth. "Tell me more..."
He was getting extremely aroused by this Bella, the vixen who was whispering those sweet precepts into his ear.
"There, that-that's good...roll it between your thumb and..."
She was cut off when he did exactly what she'd been meaning to tell him, and a needy sound left her lips.
"More...tell me more!" he ordered roughly, moving to knead her other breast.
She thrust herself into him, her lips on his jaw. "I can't!"
He bit into the skin of her neck, almost drawing blood making her cry out. "Please..." she whispered.
But he didn't give in. He wanted to hear more. "Tell me more..."
"I can't," she repeated. He pinched her nipple again and she cried into his shoulder, making his cock twitch almost painfully in its trousers.
"Why not?"
"Because your parents will be looking for you," she replied breathlessly.
He dropped his hand then, leaning back to look into her eyes which looked almost dark now. He watched her pull her dress back into place, leaning away from the wall.
Taking in some rapid, calming breaths, she smiled unguardedly at him. "We'll have time to ourselves later, Harry," she said softly, laying a gentle kiss on his cheek. An affectionate hand on his chest, she assured him of the sincerity of her words with her eyes.
He swallowed his retort for now. Things had surely progressed a lot more than he'd intended but he realized that this was not the time to take it to its natural conclusion. There was a time and place for mischief like that.
His birthday party with what felt like half the country attending was not it.
"Have fun with your little former champion," Bella called out as he joined the party once more.
She had stayed behind to erase the evidence of his lips and teeth from the skin of her neck.
--_ -- - .
It was an hour later that he had made acquaintances with close to fifty wizards and witches, courtesy of his Dad who move fluidly from one family to another, introducing him and asking questions about their family business, politics, or some other mind numbing topic, when Harry felt like he couldn't take it anymore.
So he escaped to where the fare was kept and picked up a pastry to occupy himself. Lily joined him then, holding a glass of what looked like a lighter version of firewhiskey.
"What is that?" he asked.
"Some French wine," was the reply he received. "No one knows the punch they're enjoying is also muggle made."
Harry had to smile at that. There were many in the room who would immediately turn around and say the drink was filthy should they came to know its origin.
"How many have you met?" Lily asked.
Harry shrugged. "Fifty, maybe slightly more?"
She nodded, her eyes on the room. "You're halfway there. Good job so far," she praised.
He chuckled. "Are these some of the most influential people in Britain?"
Lily hummed. "Not just Britain, but Europe," she discreetly pointed to a slightly rotund wizard in light green robes, "That's the British Ambassador to Spain, which would be a very...replaceable position if not for the fact that he's also sleeping with the Spanish Minister's fifteen and a half year old underage daughter. The Minister is basically controlled by him because the man doesn't want to air his daughter's shameful affair to the public."
"Wow," Harry could say nothing else as he processed the information. Lily didn't stop though.
"There," she pointed to a couple in a non-traditional brown uniforms. "What do you think of them?"
Harry recognized them. "I've met them already," he replied. "The husband is the Chancellor of Austria and the wife is a Hit-Wizard. They're very sweet."
Lily gave him a dry look. "The wife is sleeping with Sirius," Harry sputtered. "She forwards all of her husband's reports on the recent incidents in the country to him."
"Wow," he looked at the couple in amazement.
"You've said that twice already," Lily smirked. "I don't think Hermione will be impressed if you use anything below three syllables too often."
Harry rolled his eyes, a grin tugging at his lips despite himself. "I'll keep that in mind, Mum. Three syllables minimum. Got it."
Lily smirked, leaning slightly toward him as though imparting a great secret. "It's all about perception, darling. Words are weapons here, sharper than any wand. Use them wisely, and people will think twice before crossing you."
"I don't know," Harry said, glancing at the crowd mingling in the ballroom. "It feels like no one here speaks plainly. Everything has a hidden meaning or a second layer. It's exhausting."
Lily gave him a pointed look. "You think that's exhausting? Try managing this web of politics while being married to your father."
Harry snorted. "Dad wouldn't last five minutes in a room like this without accidentally insulting someone."
"Exactly, only that he wouldn't accidentally insult someone, but intentionally." she said with a smile. "Which is why I'm the one who manages these matters. He's charming when he needs to be, but he's better off leading family businesses than trying to navigate...this," she said, gesturing to the room with a sweep of her hand.
Harry followed her gaze, his eyes lingering on the crowd. Lords and ladies, Ministers, Ambassadors, even a few foreign royals—all gathered in their finest robes, each one wearing a carefully constructed mask of charm and civility. And yet, Harry could feel the undercurrent of tension, like a duel fought with words instead of spells.
"And me?" he asked, looking back at her. "Where do I fit in this...this chessboard?"
Lily's expression softened, her hand brushing his arm affectionately. "You, Harry, are the king. And not just on this board, but on others', too. People will watch your every move, test your every word. Some will adore you, others will despise you, but all of them will want something from you. That's the price of power."
Harry tilted his head, considering her words. "So, what do I do? Smile and wave? Pretend I enjoy the attention?"
"No," Lily said firmly. "You stay true to yourself. But," she added with a sly grin, "you also learn to play the game."
Harry gave a low whistle. "And here I thought being good at duelling would be enough."
"Duelling is part of it," Lily conceded, "but there's a difference between winning a duel and winning a war. You've already proven yourself on the duelling stage, Harry. Now, you need to prove yourself in rooms like this."
He nodded, digesting her words. "So, who else should I watch out for?"
Lily scanned the room, her eyes landing on a distinguished-looking man near the grand staircase. "There. Lord Dunbridge. He's been lobbying for stricter regulations on magical creatures for years, under the guise of public safety. What he really wants is to drive out werewolves and goblins from his lands, so he can claim their resources for himself."
Harry frowned. "And people support him?"
"Some do," Lily admitted. "But many don't. He's a skilled speaker, though. You'll need to be careful if you ever debate him publicly."
Harry studied the man for a moment before turning back to his mother. "Alright, who else?"
Lily's gaze shifted to a regal-looking witch in deep violet robes, standing near the refreshment table. "Lady Rosier. She's charming, isn't she?"
Harry nodded. "I've spoken to her. She seemed...polite."
"She's polite because she wants to see where you stand," Lily said. "The Rosiers have always been ambitious, and she's no exception. She's been quietly funding research into blood magic—dangerous stuff. She'll try to feel you out, see if you're someone she can manipulate."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "And what do I do if she tries?"
Lily smiled. "Let her realize she's succeeding. Then, when the time comes, show her she's not as clever as she thinks."
Harry shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "You make it sound so easy."
"It's not," Lily admitted. "But you'll learn. You've got the instincts for it, Harry. You just need to sharpen them."
Their conversation paused as a group of witches and wizards passed by, bowing their heads slightly in acknowledgment of Harry. He gave them a polite nod, his face a mask of calm confidence.
When they were out of earshot, Lily leaned closer. "You handled that well. Never show them too much emotion, Harry. Let them wonder what you're thinking."
"Is that why you always look so serene?" he asked, smirking.
"Of course," Lily said with a wink. "It drives them mad."
Harry chuckled, but his laughter faded as he caught sight of a familiar figure near the edge of the room. Hermione. She stood quietly, her hands clasped in front of her, her eyes scanning the crowd as though she were looking for an escape route.
Lily followed his gaze and smiled knowingly. "Ah, Hermione. She's quite the enigma, isn't she?"
Harry agreed. "And she's genuine. Nothing like these people."
Lily's smile widened. "Genuine, hmm? Well, I can tell that she likes you already."
Harry turned sharply to her. "Really?" he couldn't leave the hope out of his voice.
She nodded assuredly. "Keep doing what you're doing and she will be yours."
Harry released a breath of relief. He looked at his Mum who was standing there in a dress that was both elegant and timeless, gazing at the guests with calculating eyes.
She had opted for a flowing, floor-length gown in a deep emerald green, a colour that complemented her eyes, fiery red hair and fair skin. The fabric was luxurious velvet, perhaps with intricate embroidery of silver thread, depicting delicate floral motifs. The neckline was a modest sweetheart shape, and the sleeves were long and flowing, adorned with delicate lace. A small, sparkling tiara had adorned her hair, adding a touch of regal glamour.
She looked exactly like the powerful woman who'd stood up to Voldemort to shield her toddler son with her own body.
He felt that he needed to ask her the question that had been gnawing at him for a while. He needed to speak plainly.
"Mum?" he waited until she was looking at him, "Are you seriously okay with me pursuing two witches?"
Lily frowned. "Was it two or three? Did you forget Claire Gauthier?"
Harry's look of disbelief made her frown dissolve into a tinkling laugh. "Oh, Harry, you're so easy to tease, darling."
"It's not funny," he said, experiencing a similar feeling as to when he'd been conversing with Bella. "I just don't want to disappoint you or anything."
Lily put a dainty hand on his arm. "I told you to pursue Daphne because she could be useful for influencing the Dark faction. Hermione is your choice and I won't tell you it's a bad one because that would be false. She's, as you said, a genuinely nice girl. And then there's Claire, she may be a stranger but I know you'll be careful."
Harry stood there with his mouth open, stunned.
"The point is, Harry," Lily said simply, "You're going to be the king on the chessboard. And for that, you can't look like the king or act like the king. You have to be the king."
Lily placed her empty glass on a tray.
"That's not to say that I haven't asked Sirius to pull information about your Claire. I'll share what I get with you so you don't go into this blindly."
Harry simply nodded as she smiled, kissed his cheek and left him to attend to the guests again.
Chapter 12 - Birthday Pleasures
It was 1:30 am when Harry felt like he'd done all that had been required of him. He'd made some new connections with some of the most influential people in Europe at the behest of his parents, cut the cake with his brother, opened the ball with his partner as he'd been instructed and then danced with witches of nearly all ages and at least fourteen different nationalities till his mind was drained and his feet were numb.
Now, he was going to take his sweet time relaxing with a light snack from the kitchens, and then surrender himself to the arms of morpheus.
But no sooner did he enter his room that his lips were pulled into a hungry kiss by a familiar set of lips.
Soft, dainty hands were in his hair and neck, caressing and rubbing and scratching all the same. He was breathless at the urgency with which her tongue fought its way into his mouth, as if planning to devour it whole.
"Not that I'm complaining at your initiative," He said as she left his mouth to use her lips hungrily on his bare neck, "How are you even in my room?"
Claire's dark gaze looked at him with utmost seriousness. "I asked your sister."
Harry groaned but was cut off as she dropped down to her knees. She was undoing the zip of his trousers, unlatching the belt.
"Which one?" Realizing with a resigned sigh that now, even his sister knew about his affairs. He belatedly also realized that it didn't matter which one had given her the directions to his room to await him there, both will know as soon as they got the chance to talk. They didn't have any secrets between them, after all.
"The one with the red hair," she replied in her native tongue, her hands pushing his loosened trousers out of the way. He understood nothing but the word 'red'. Rose it was then.
"Have you fucked anyone in your room before?" She tugged down his boxers, her hungry gaze already on his growing cock.
"I have not," he admitted and it seemed like it was the right thing to say because then she was burying her nose and mouth into his crotch, inhaling deeply, her hands coming to wrap around his shaft.
This time, he groaned in satisfaction instead as she began to jerk him off slowly, the sound of her deep breaths making his head swim in hunger.
The room was silent except for her erotic breaths and lazy slurps as she took in his musk and licked the base of his shaft.
He stroked her neatly combed hair, looking slightly brown in the candlelights, noticing how small her hands and thin fingers looked wrapped around his cock as she stroked his skin up and down with both hands, her mouth wantonly on his heavy, now aching balls.
"Your sister said I was your first guest here," she said coquettishly, her lips forming a smirk. She jerked him even faster, sometimes, the slaps landing on the cold skin of her nose and cheek, dripping his pre-cum.
"You shouldn't have talked to her," he complained, "It's not right."
"Why not?" she asked but didn't wait for his reply but suddenly jerked ahead, swallowing his cock all the way to the base, making him gather her hair into his fist, as much as he could muster while pushing his hips back into her eager mouth.
"Surely, she knows what we're doing," she mumbled and he pulled her hair with a mixture of lust and irritation.
"That's not the point," he said fiercely and then began drilling into her mouth, the silent room suddenly filled with sounds of her wet cheek slapping against his hips.
He felt more than he saw her hands go wrap around his arse, palming his cheeks, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. He looked down to see tears running down her cheeks as she met his gaze invitingly.
He'd never thought that there was a way to make all of his exhaustion with the day's events magically disappear, but he'd fortunately, accidentally and most pleasurably found it.
She was making no move to have him stop, her face red as her mouth accommodated his girth and her makeup running down her face but the naked desire in her gaze, looked as strong as ever.
He pulled her back through her hair and she coughed, still grinning from ear to ear and opening her mouth wide.
Merlin, whatever had he done to have this freaky witch desire him so much?
Caressing his balls once more with her fingers, she laid a gentle kiss on his sensitive bulbous head.
Looking up at him from under long lashes, she spoke coyly, "She's a pretty little thing, your sister. I would like to see if she tastes the same as you."
He growled and pulled her back towards his twitching cock, refusing to respond to her taunt. It was a great decision because all of her smirk was gone in an instant, replaced by the erotic sight of his entire length disappearing back into her throat.
As he began to piston again, she choked and coughed on his glistening member, but refused to let him stop.
When he saw her raise her eyes up to him again, he realized that this was exactly what she had intended for him to do when she'd goaded him.
He could feel himself sliding to the edge and as her punishment, didn't want to tell her that he was about to cum. He gave one final push down her mouth, her willing throat swallowing his cock whole while she didn't even give him even the slightest hint of struggle. He saw her take it all and she blinked as if welcoming what was to come next, beckoning him to let himself go as he so wanted to.
Then he was teetering on the edge and he was shooting and gushing down Claire's throat, flowing in thick streams that legitimately caused his hips to tremble. He saw white as his orgasm hit him like a tidal wave, and the growl that he emitted from his raspy throat sounded strange even to his own ears. He saw her swallowing every drop greedily and just as an experiment, he withdrew a little until only his tip was inside her mouth and saw her use her tongue and lips with an unreal skill to coax more and more out of his still twitching member.
And then, he watched with an amused smile as she let her tongue out to clean him up until not a single drop lay anywhere but inside her awaiting mouth.
"No jokes about my sister," he ordered and she nodded, looking both smug and chastised at the same time.
He pulled her forward then and she stood on shaky legs. He muttered a spell and her dress fell away, presenting her curvaceous body to his hungry gaze.
She looked so ready that he couldn't wait.
He pushed her back until her legs hit his four-poster bed, stumbling onto the mattress. He claimed her lips as her legs crossed on either side of him, trapping him.
He could see her excitement in every bite of her lips, his hands coming up to pinch at her perfect nipples, making her shriek.
He didn't want to bother with a silencing charm.
"You've been waiting for this, haven't you?"
Claire nodded wordlessly, leaning back on the bed. "These past few weeks away from you were torture."
Her whispered words were enough to make him rock hard again. He kissed her again, with hard and rough and forceful vigour. "I have no idea why you're such a whore, but I love it."
She tilted her neck and he began to suck and bite her bare neck with his lips. His cock was beginning to revive again. "Thank you," she moaned into his touch, her hands busy gnawing at his sides. "My mother was very thorough."
He should've been shocked at her admission but it didn't do anything but make him even more excited. His lust had reached unbearable levels and he wanted to know more.
In a haze, he flipped her around, making her squeal so she was lying face down and then pulled her arse back towards him, making her get up on her hands and knees. He pressed his cock against her soft arse, letting himself feel the heat of her creamy skin and her the depth of his arousal.
"Tell me what she taught you," he ordered roughly.
She looked back over her shoulder as he rubbed himself against her wet lips. "She taught me how to fuck," she said, pushing back against him eagerly.
"How?"
She licked her lips as if beckoning him to take her right then.
"How did she teach you? Show me!"
He could feel her wiggling her arse against him, trying and failing to get him to do what she wanted him to do. "Please Harry..."
He shook his head. "Tell me or you won't get my cock, Claire."
She shuddered. "My mother taught me how to suck a cock. How to make a wizard happy."
Harry pushed up against her snatch, the tip feeling the glorious inside of her heated tunnel. "What else?"
She rested on her elbows now, her head in the enclosure of her folded arms. "Please Harry," she begged, "Fuck me so I can make my mother proud."
He couldn't take it anymore. He slammed his cock into her eager pussy, stretching and filling her in a single hard thrust.
"Good of you to ask," he said, making her scream as he used his hips to the best advantage, the thrusts of his cock making her body tremble under him.
He reached ahead to gather a fistful of her hair and pulled.
"Ughh!" She groaned, clenching hard around him. "Fuck!" He felt a deep satisfaction within him at having make this older, clearly more experienced witch cum so easily.
"So big," she gasped. "So hard, please Harry...please..."
He took that to mean that it was his turn to set her pussy on fire again and as he drew back and filled her to the brim, she screamed into the bed.
"Did you mother teach you to take it like a whore?" he grit out breathlessly.
She looked like a mess, her eyes shut and her head thrown back, filled to the guts with his thick dick. He felt deeper than he ever imagined possible, her insides gripping him with an urgency that was both hot and magical.
He began to fuck her in even strokes, enjoying her moans and her screams in equal measure, once again close to coming as she did all she could to take all that he was giving.
In a deep haze of unadulterated lust, his ears picked up the sounds of the bed creaking and shaking under the burden of their fucking. He glanced at the witch under him who looked almost wild and felt a chuckle bubble up in his chest.
He really needed to know where this extremely deviant witch had come from. He needed to know everything about her and more. He needed to know her, understand what made her tick and then keep her for himself forever.
"Please Harry...harder..." she begged again and he followed her ask without delay. He was close but that didn't mean he would neglect what this hungry witch was telling him.
"Scream for me again." He told her, pulling her hair again, leaning down to bring his mouth to her ears, "I need to hear you!"
"Ooh, yes, ughh, fuck—so much," she gasped and cried in French, "You fucking monstre!" He hammered her as heavily he could, making her arch her back towards him.
Just like that, she was shuddering under him, her cunt clenching against him and taking him with her. He groaned and began to unload all he had to give for the second time that evening, in her second hole for the evening.
He groaned and pushed himself against the softness of her back, leaning heavily on her, watching in fascination as the candlelights made her creamy back even more enticing. He was still spurting as she squeezed him tight.
"You're so good to me," she said giggling as he pulled out and laid back down on the bed, pulling her against him so her body lay flat beside his, her head nuzzled in his neck.
"How much of what you were telling me was made up and how much of it was the truth?" he asked, dying with curiosity.
Claire laughed a throaty laugh. He felt himself becoming hard again.
"Oh my," she felt him through her wandering hands and then looked him in the eye.
"Everything was the truth."
He could feel sincerity reeking out of her unfiltered as her hands once more wrapped around his hardening dick. "Why, though?" he asked, "That's not normal. Mother giving her daughter a hands-on sex education."
She giggled, giving his cock some slow, luxurious strokes.
"I'm special," she smirked.
"No," he denied lightly, "You just come from a family of perverts."
"Doesn't mean you don't like it," she retorted, jerking him. He twitched and pulled her into a kiss.
He decided to let her know his sentiments. "I don't know enough about you to say anything for certain," he said in a deliberately neutral tone, "Maybe this is all a passing fancy."
She was almost wild in the way she looked at him then. "Never." she said firmly, her hand slowing down just a little in its movements.
He shook his head, his two prior orgasms giving him a much needed rational mind to be able to think properly. "Maybe we'll fuck three more times and you'll move on. I'm sure you have no shortage of willing wizards in Beauxbatons."
It was almost cruel, the way he spoke, but he didn't care in that moment. He liked her very much, but there was no point in denying that she was an experienced woman, who had clearly been with a few different men already.
She growled and bent down to wrestle his tongue with her own, her kiss animalistic in intensity. She climbed on top of him, reached below to align his cock and sank onto him.
"There is no one!" she shrieked, denying his admission. "No one except you."
She moaned and his breath came out in a rush of pleasure and he smiled, knowing he'd hit the spot that he'd been meaning to, in both ways that mattered.
He put his hands behind his head and simply watched her writhe above him. He didn't think he would ever get used to her tightness.
"I'm sure," he mocked her. She bent down to lay her hands on either side of him for support. "A witch like you will have the entire school lining up for her," he said with a little regret. It was true, after all.
Her hair was falling on his face so he gathered as much as he could and pushed it to her back.
"Such a whore," he ground out, gathering his strength to push his hips up into her hard, "Am I bigger than your last boyfriend?"
"Ahhh!" she howled into his mouth, "Please Harry..."
"Tell me!" he ordered without mercy.
She opened her eyes, and he noticed that they were moist. "You are the only one," she said truthfully.
It was then that Harry slipped into her mind.
--_ -- - .
Claire was mindless with pleasure and pain. Gasping for breath, her whole body was shaking. She could feel her pussy quivering around his cock, her body spasming as he plunged into her again and again and again. Her mind had been torn apart, her body remade as it stretched to take him.
Nothing was making sense anymore. She had come to Harry for the sole purpose of proving to herself that all of her initial attraction was true and right and that this was where she belonged, with him, now and forever. And it had been revealed to be true, after all.
He was the one who she'd been waiting for, for whom she'd been saving herself for. For the first time since she'd lost control of her willpower in that bathroom, the first time that she'd given in to her impulses, it had turned out to be the best decision of her life.
She had thought she'd been feeling exactly what he'd been feeling but it was becoming increasingly clear that it was not the case.
Her core was gushing, pouring out a river of honey as her body spasmed on top of him. She could taste herself so vividly, smell herself so filthily that she didn't know what else to do except throw her head into his neck and just succumb to him.
And after those two delirious waves of pleasure that had rocked her and drained her completely, she wanted nothing more than to do just that but she had to resist.
She could not let him gather her in his arms so lovingly when his words were so cutting, revealing that she had miscalculated very badly.
Suddenly remembering her mother's words, she willed herself back into the present. There was nothing to it. She had no choice but to help him see her without jokes and pretences. To make him see that she was his.
"You are the only one," she said, gazing deeply into his eyes, wiling him to see that she was telling the truth.
Her mind foggy and her body not under her own control, she fought against the part of herself that just wanted to lay there on top of him, in his arms, and forget about everything until the next day.
But that was not to be borne.
He was giving her a disbelieving expression and she rolled her hips to feel him again, to feel his love again, if not from his eyes then from his cock.
"My mother once told me that this would happen," she began, trembling, "That I will one day find a wizard that I'll give myself to completely. That I wo-would want nothing more than t-to be with him. Only him."
She could feel him stroking her back, holding her shaking body. She couldn't stop her tears from falling again.
She remembered the times when she'd seen her girlfriends moving from one wizard to another, fucking them and then dumping them, looking like they were having the time of their lives. She'd felt aroused and jealous and frustrated that she couldn't have the same carefree life as them.
She remembered her mother cajoling her, telling her in a firm tone that brook no argument that she not a regular witch who sold her body and gave up a part of her soul to any willing wizard for an hour of empty pleasure.
She remembered how she'd been promised that there was a special wizard waiting for her, made especially for her, willed into existence by magic itself to become the other half of her existence. And that one day, her mother had told her, Claire was going to find him, just like she had found her father.
And then her mother had taken her into her arms and wiped her tears, and began her training in how to please the wizard of her dreams.
She felt Harry slow down, and could only gasp as he left her body slowly, inch by inch, taking forever. She felt her pussy cry at the emptiness it now beheld, the trail of her juices spraying all over from her ruined hole.
"Please, Harry," she said without sense, more words beyond her.
He didn't listen. "Tell me what you want."
"Please fuck me." She panted with both pleasure and exhaustion.
"Gladly," he smiled and this time, she felt that it was genuine again. "But first, tell me how much you want it," he teased.
She groaned. "Please Harry, fuck me, fuck me hard, I beg you," she said with emotion. "I am yours."
And then, without warning, she felt her body shake as he rammed back inside her.
"Harry!" she cried at his deep thrust, her body quailing in pleasure and wanting more. Moaning, she drew her hands on either side of his face and let herself fall onto him limp, her strength no longer enough to support her through both the pleasure and the trial that she'd just endured.
With each pump, she felt herself whimper and scream, hear the slap of his hips against her own and the erotic yet satisfying sound of their joining.
She knew that after this, she was going to shower her mother in thanks for everything she'd done for her.
There was nothing better than this, and she pitied all the ruined witches of her school, knowing that they'll never have what she had now.
--_ -- - .
"This pussy was made for me, wasn't it?" Harry gasped out as he fucked her with merciless abandon.
Claire had been a surprise and now, since he had the best kind of confirmation of her sincerity, he could let himself loose in her.
"Harry!" she cried into his neck and her body twitched but he didn't mind it as kept pumping, even more desperate for release now.
"Yes, mon prince, please give me, please..." she chanted, rolling her hips as if desperate for his cum.
He pushed her above, making her support herself on her elbows again as he reached down to grab at her breasts. He kneaded them roughly and thumbed her nipples while gazing at her beautiful face, now looking like a complete mess.
Her mind shattered once again, her body quaking in his arms in a pure orgasmic bliss. He came inside her with a deep growl, unloading, pulsating into her, giving her all that he had for the night.
She convulsed with pleasure and he held her to him again, burying his face in her sweaty hair.
It could've been minutes or a full hour later when she was there, sleeping in his arms that Harry contemplated all that he had learned from some of her thoughts.
He felt a little guilty for having violated her privacy like this, but a large part of him knew that it was necessary.
This life that he was enjoying was a second chance for him and his family. A second chance that cannot be fucked up by allowing a trojan into his life.
He also knew that it was a slippery slope, for if he could look into someone's mind so easily and made a habit of it, what chance did he have of ever trusting anyone outside his own family?
But he did want to trust this confusing, feisty, dangerous witch laying in his arms. He didn't just want to trust her because he'd seen inside her mind, but it was the other way around . He had looked inside her mind because he knew in his heart that he already liked her too much and it had happened too quickly. And he had no idea what to do about it.
Closing his eyes, he sighed and settled to cover them both with the summoned blanket.
These thoughts had to be put on hold for the morning when he could command the full use of his senses.
--_ -- - .
Lily and James lay on their bed in a tangle of limbs, entwined with each other. Her head was on his chest, listening to his heartbeat while she hummed a muggle tune. James was already half asleep in the afterglow of their vigorous lovemaking and Lily had closed her eyes to think.
"Today was a success," she murmured.
James exhaled slowly into her tresses. "The kids looked happy, and Harry was great. Even John looked like he was enjoying himself, especially when he got to dance with Miss Granger."
"Hermione danced with him only because I asked her to," Lily yawned. "It was one dance and she didn't mind."
James didn't reply for a full minute and she smiled to herself. She could feel him frowning, trying to make sense of what she'd just said.
"But John likes Hermione," he muttered. "And his friend Ronald does too."
"But Hermione likes Harry," she returned.
"But that means--wait, you think so?"
Lily chuckled into his chest and he felt the vibrations all the way down to his semi-erect cock. "I don't think so. I knowso. Whatever friendship John and Ronald have going on with Hermione, it doesn't compare."
"Wow," said James, "I had no idea."
She could only shake her head at her delightfully clueless husband.
"And Harry likes her too," James surmised, reaching down to palm her bare arse.
Lily wiggled and climbed higher to allow him better access. "You're catching up."
"Teenagers are so complicated," he whined.
As James continued to grope at her arse, Lily couldn't help but giggle at his antics. She snuggled deeper into his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin and the gentle rise and fall of his breathing.
"It's cute how clueless you are about teenage romance," she teased, her voice barely above a whisper.
James's hands stilled, and he looked down at her with a teasing expression. "I managed to win your heart, didn't I?"
Lily smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "You did, but only after fucking half the witches the Hogwarts."
"Come on, admit it, you got a buzz out of it," he murmured huskily.
"Hmmph!" she smacked his chest, "That's not the point!" she protested weakly.
James only laughed, riling her up even more.
"And now Harry is following in your footsteps." she snarked.
"Oh?" he sounded interested.
Lily shook her head. "My poor son, now caught between three witches."
James was glad Lily wasn't looking at him because he wasn't sure he would be able to hide the fact that he knew that it wasn't three but four witches. Probably.
"He has you to guide him," he said, "and me to spoil him."
Lily snorted. "That's what I'm afraid of, you've already rubbed off on me because one of those three witches is the one I am encouraging him to go for."
"What?" he said in disbelief, and then guffawed. "Oh, I know who! You invited Lavinia to the party. It's her daughter isn't it?"
"You're smarter than you look, Potter," she reached up to kiss him.
"Why though?" he asked when she pulled apart, breathless.
"What?" she asked, a little dazed from the kiss.
He kissed her forehead. "Why invite Lavinia's family? Don't you hate her guts?"
"Oh!" Lily shrugged. "We both knew Gerald. He was okay."
"We did, but that's not the reason you want...ah! I got it."
Lily gazed at him, a question in her eyes.
He took his sweet time in answering her unasked question.
"It will be a good revenge to have her daughter become one of Harry's conquests."
Lily smacked his chest again. "No!"
"One of his mistresses then?" he tried again.
"You're impossible!" she laid her head back down in the crook of his neck, one of her legs sliding up on him.
He caressed her lovely crimson hair. "Did he dance with her?"
She sighed. "He didn't want to, but I convinced him."
James nodded. "How?"
"Well, it went like this...I saw John dancing with Susan Bones and that his eyes were fixed more on Harry's partner than his own..."
--_ -- - .
John was having a relatively good time, all things considered. He didn't have any expectations from the evening except stealing a few dances from some of the hottest witches he'd ever seen in his life, but other than that, he preferred to follow what his parents told him to do.
And that meant greeting and conversing with an untold number of people from all over, all intent on boring him to death with their choice of topics, the most recurring being stupid politics.
He suffered that with barely masked distaste, although sometimes his anger at his twin brother did overwhelm him.
How in Morgana's saggy tits had he made the gorgeous and scary two-time Under-17 duelling champion a friend that greeted him by kissing him three times on the cheeks?
And what was that deal with her sexy mother treating him as if she knew him for a lifetime?
John could never believe that a single summer would bring this much of an avalanche into his life, but this summer was proving to be very uneventful for him, and in all the worst ways.
He felt like he'd lost the respect of his friends when he'd promised them that he'd win the Under-14, only to lose before the quarterfinals. Then, his brother, the wizard who'd never shown any aptitude for duelling, had not only proceeded to wow Mum and Dad and essentially the entire audience through his participation in the Under-17, but also made them all his lifelong fans by winning the Merlin damned tournament.
Which seemed impossible if John hadn't witnessed his performance with his own eyes.
He looked around to see Harry in the middle of a conversation with some odd couple and tried hard not to glare in his general direction. John may be the Boy-Who-Lived, but tonight, and he suspected that for many more nights in the future, his brother was going to be the centre of everyone's attention.
A bloody fine Duelling superstar as he was now!
John swallowed the punch he'd been holding and returned the glass back to an elf and headed in the direction of a witch he'd been wanting to ask for a dance all evening. But before he could take a step in her direction, he was accosted by a busty redhead who was smiling at him.
He sighed inwardly as he led his Hufflepuff classmate to the dance floor.
He tried making some small talk with her, even complimented her on her looks, which he could admit was quite an improvement over the object of his attention just a few minutes ago.
So he decided to enjoy her company for the time being.
She gave him some bashful smiles, and he took her moments of inattention to stare at her gorgeous chest, those massive globes peeking temptingly at him from the top of her strapless dress. He could easily imagine a scenario in which he could seduce this witch. He would take her to his chambers, her shy and giggling self, a little tipsy from both exhaustion and the punch, just waiting to be devoured by him.
He was beginning to get lost in his daydream when his mind registered the fact that Harry was standing, no dancing just beside him, with Hermione in his arms.
And they weren't just dancing, he was practically gropingher! All in the middle of the dance floor with hundreds of pairs of eyes. He turned to look at his parents and saw that his Dad was busy with some guests while his Mum was gazing in his direction happily.
Except it wasn't in his direction, he surmised. It was in Harry's direction.
He would've cried out at the injustice of the universe, if he could somehow keep Susan from being offended.
So he endured silently. He smiled and talked with his tipsy partner while fuming inside.
--_ -- - .
"How did they look together?" James asked in wonder.
Lily smiled in satisfaction. "Oh, they looked wonderful!" she couldn't keep herself from gushing. "Harry held her so close to him, so delicately yet firmly as if he expected her to disappear if not for his strong, stable hands, and Hermione was--"
"Amazing!" James breathed.
"Hermione had a hand on his chest as she looked deep into his eyes and they swayed to the music. It could've been sheer intuition that made me pick that song at that time, because I swear James, it was so divine! They looked so perfect!"
"Oh Lily," James pulled Lily to him as he wiped the tears from the corner of her eyes. "You're describing as if our son is in love."
Lily smiled beatifically. James could swear that he just fell in love with her all over again.
"I don't know, but Hermione is a good girl. It won't be a bad choice."
James nodded. "Of course it won't be a bad choice. I've heard Hermione described as if she was your clone. Muggleborn, bookworm. Brilliant but scary."
Lily laughed. "Were they talking? As they danced?" he asked.
"They were, and they seemed to be..." Lily trailed off, thinking for the right word. Then she smiled. "Content. As if being in each other's company was what mattered the most."
"Was Miss Granger receptive?" James wanted to know.
Lily nodded, her soft hair rustling against his head. "She was smiling at him the entire time."
"I hope he asks her to be his girlfriend before long."
"He should," Lily agreed, lifting her head up to look at him. "I could see that she was very comfortable in his arms."
"I wish I could've seen them," James mused.
She kissed his cheek. "I'm sure there will be many more times when we'll catch them behaving like an old married couple."
"Like us?" James asked cheekily. "I don't find you that old, Lily."
Lily rolled her eyes, laying her head back down, smiling despite herself. "I love you, James."
"As I love you, my Lily."
They lay in silence for a few moments before Lily spoke again.
"James, do you think Harry will be okay?" she asked, her voice laced with concern. "I mean, with all the pressure of being The Boy Who Lived and dealing with Voldemort...and now adding romance to the mix?"
James stilled. "You're absolutely sure that he's the one?"
Lily sighed. "Not absolutely, but I'm confident that Harry is the one who is destined to face Voldemort," she admitted and then grew angry, "And we were so naive to put our faith in Albus."
"Never again," James agreed. "He sees the world very differently from us. It would be foolish to rely on him again."
"He has no family, no wife and no children. He's a lonely old man who likes to play chess with people who are foolish enough to believe in him," Lily sneered. "We might need his help, yes, but we'll never trust him again. Our sides are different now."
"We're on Harry's side."
Lily said nothing, only moved to straddle his hips.
"We have to do anything to help him succeed," she ground her core against his cock, which was now almost to its full mast. "We'll need to plan."
"Nothing that you've planned so meticulously has ever failed." James said proudly, groaning as she reached behind herself to grasp his dick in her hand.
"Except once," she murmured, angling it at her glistening pussy.
He sighed in a haze of lust and emotion. "But we got him back. We're not going to overthink how it happened now, right?"
She nodded, laying a kiss on his chest and sinking down on him completely. "No point in looking back."
"If we can't affect the past, why think about it?" Lily agreed with his sentiments, even though she didn't voice it, busy as she was now in grinding herself on his cock.
"So," James said grinning, "Melissa was staring at me again this evening."
Lily gasped.
--_ -- - .
"Oh Bertha...I'm gonna--oh--OH!" panted her lover to make sure she could come at the same time as him.
Ludo wasn't doing that bad, considering how the girth of his belly was so much bigger than his cock. Now only if he stopped fumbling, reaching forward to look for her clit and instead focused purely on drilling her properly into the wall so she could at least try to find this affair satisfactory.
If she was perfectly honest with herself, she couldn't remember the last time she'd been truly satiated with a new lover, considering how long she'd been here for her work. This Triwizard Tournament had been truly nightmarish to setup, and for all intents and purposes, she was finally close to being done with it all.
As he pulled out of her, she realized that she'd once again wasted the past last few moments of their vigorous joining in thinking about something else rather than satisfying her aching body. Sighing, she turned to give him a kiss.
"Were you...um...did you..." he stammered, looking down.
She took pity on him. At the age of forty-two, he didn't look like he was getting much action from witches his age, yet alone witches more than a decade younger than him.
"It's okay, you were great!" she promised, "You can take care of me first next time," she winked.
He grinned, looking much more relieved. She realized how roguishly handsome he still looked as he pulled her into a feverish kiss. Perhaps that was one of the reasons how he'd maintained his reputation even after his career had ended so long ago.
She looked around his office, decorated splendidly with souvenirs from his time in the field. Trophies, badges, bats, and quaffles littered his desk and the walls.
"So, the timeline has been decided?" she asked, "Dumbledore agreed?"
"Tentatively," he confirmed, almost sheepishly, "You know how he is. Needs to look over everything himself, and do it thoroughly."
She nodded, resisting the urge to sigh. This had already taken too long, what was a few more days of waiting anyway? At least their work was finished.
"Let me accompany you home," he offered graciously, picking up his formal robes.
She hugged him. "No need, I'm gonna go grab a drink with a friend first." When he pouted, she shook her head. "Let me visit you again tomorrow."
He agreed and she left his office, taking the lift back to the atrium.
As she queued for access to a floo, her musings were interrupted by a voice from behind.
"Long day, huh?" a petite, mousy haired witch remarked, smiling.
Bertha smiled. "Somehow the summer keeps bringing in surprises."
The witch laughed and Bertha began to converse with her. Absentmindedly, she removed a flask from her robes and took a sip, wincing at the rancid taste. She still hadn't gotten used to the taste, after three long months.
"What's that?" the small witch asked curiously.
Bertha grimaced. "Just my medication. I will go crazy without it."
The witch behind her laughed lightly and Bertha went to take her turn in the floo.
Hopefully, she thought, remembering Ludo Bagman again, all of her hard work will finally come to fruition and she'll have some good news to convey to her...superiors.