Harry strode out of the doors of Wizengamot leaving whispers in his wake. Susan trailed just behind him, her arms held at her sides. It had been an utterly fruitless meeting— which meant that for Harry, things were went perfectly.
Crouch, as predicted, had all but given up on politics. His faction failed to even show up, preventing any meaningful votes from taking place. Harry took some satisfaction from looking at the seat Gibbon usually occupied, knowing that his absence was for a different reason than the others.
A sudden cry from Susan made Harry flip around. As he drew his wand, his mind raced through half-formed probabilities, each demanding a different approach. Was it an assassination attempt? Someone trying to browbeat them into submission? A frustrated representative lashing out?
He'd let his guard down slightly when Crouch skipped the meeting, because reckless plans weren't Yaxley's style. But he'd forgotten that there was another Death Eater more chaotic than Crouch ever was.
Fortunately, Bellatrix Lestrange wasn't there for a fight. The only thing she'd done to Susan was shove her aside. When she saw Harry's stance, she cackled.
"What's the Itty Bitty Potty going to do?" she said. "Curse me? I'm so scared!"
As she continued laughing uproariously, Harry forced himself to lower his wand.
"Chief Warlock." Harry was unable to keep some sarcasm out of his voice. "Can I help you? Perhaps you felt your robes were missing a dash of color?"
The unsubtle reference to their last meeting here, when Harry struck her with a paint charm to prove that he could, made Bellatrix's laughter finally stall.
"You came today with more votes than last time," Bellatrix said. "Yet all you do with them is vote against everything. You're being a nuisance. Just know… that isn't unnoticed."
For a moment, Harry felt something uncomfortable tingling along his spine. It was unlike Bellatrix to deliver a warning so calmly. It meant that she was confident things were going her way. How so?
Acting on Narcissa's tips, Harry had poached the Shafiq and Rowle family's away from Yaxley. With their help, any proposed legislation was easily defeated, buying Harry time to chip away at the other factions… one member at a time.
So why was Bellatrix calm? She hated him. There was no secret in that. For her to be this way could only mean one thing. She believed he was being backed into a corner.
Still, no matter what unease he felt… he couldn't let it show.
"Thank you for the warning, Chief Warlock," Harry said. "I'm grateful. When I see you next, I'll make sure to have a gift prepared."
Bellatrix smirked dangerously. "I like wine. The deeper the color, the better. More like blood."
Harry inclined his head.
"I had something more meaningful in mind," he said. "Look forward to it."
When they left the room, Harry made sure Susan was walking in front of him. Just in case. But Bellatrix did nothing to impede them further.
"That sick woman," Susan said when they finally reached the privacy of Muggle London. "Just feeling her touch makes me nauseous!"
"She hates me," Harry said.
Susan looked at him. Their conversations had been growing more normal recently, lasting longer without sudden outbursts or threats toward Harry's life. He never complained about the way things were. In his mind, he deserved it. He was a bit surprised, though, just how pleasant he found talking to her without such interruptions.
"That's a good thing in my book," Susan said. "But… Why?"
Harry's eyes grew far away, until he shook himself.
"Bellatrix lives for pleasure," Harry said. "She hurts others just to hear them scream. The only traits she respects are sadism and rage. When I was young… I suppose she tried to instill her values in me the only way she knew how. At first, I would give the responses she was looking for. Then I learned it was better to stay calm. Contained. By doing so, I spoiled her fun."
"That's it?" Susan asked.
"No," Harry said, "but that's where it got its start." He checked the time with a quick spell, nodded, and walked toward an alley shielded from the road. "Come on. We've another appointment to make."
Susan followed him hesitantly. "We do? Where?"
Harry planted his hand on her shoulder.
"Greengrass Manor," he said.
From behind a dumpster, he Disapparated the two of them, sending them hurtling across the country.
O-O-O
Greengrass Manor was located on the edge of the Lakes District. The home itself was a stately Victorian roughly four stories in height. The first thing Harry noticed upon arrival was its lawn.
That word didn't do it justice. Neither did calling it a garden. Instead, for acre upon acre, a sprawling and pristine sea of grass trailed down a shallow embankment, running down to the shores of a small lake. The view of short mountains on all sides ensured that no matter where you looked, there was natural beauty to see.
"If you lived somewhere like this, captivity might actually be tolerable," Susan said with wide eyes.
Harry stopped, staring at her.
"Was that a joke?" he asked.
He'd heard sarcasm from her, but never a true quip. Susan looked away.
"Don't think about it too much," she said tersely.
They crossed the lawn along a path made with glistening shells. When they got close, the manor cast its shadow over them, blocking the heat of the day. Two people were waiting by the front door— and neither of them were the manor's owner.
Fleur waved, greeting Harry with a warm smile and, once he was close enough, a peck on each cheek. Harry returned the favor, kissing her cheek back before he faced the other person.
Astoria Greengrass was dressed in sleek silver robes that had her family's coat of arms next to the Malfoy family badge. Her hair was done and she held a bedazzled purse tightly, using both hands.
"You came," Harry said. "Good."
"I wasn't aware that I had a choice," Astoria said tightly.
"You didn't!" Fleur said, smiling brightly. "That's why it's good that you came, non?"
Astoria shifted her weight between her feet.
"You want my help convincing my sister to join your faction, correct?" she asked. "I hope you know she won't listen to me. Daphne's head has grown utterly enormous ever since she took Father's Wizengamot seat."
"I advise you to think of some convincing arguments then," Harry said.
Before Astoria could protest, Harry stepped up and knocked on the door. A letter had been sent to inform the owner of the house about this visit, but it took a full minute for the door to swing open. Perhaps Harry had gotten used to visiting the likes of Yaxley, whose mansion was stuffed with an unholy amount of servants and staff.
Or, Daphne knew he was here for a negotiation, and this was her way of setting the tone.
When the door finally opened, Daphne herself stood on the other side.
"Hmm," she said. "I've got a delegation on my doorstep."
Her robes weren't as sleek as her younger sister's, but Daphne's body made up for it. They seemed about a size too small, at least around the chest, although Harry didn't look for long.
"May we come in?" Harry asked.
Daphne sniffed. "I suppose so, if you've come all of this way."
The whole party walked through the threshold, and Daphne led them to a sitting room on the first floor. As she did, she looked back, taking a headcount.
"I can't remember the last time I had so many guests," she said.
"Yaxley doesn't come to visit?" Harry asked.
"Why would he? We're only loosely affiliated." Daphne pushed open the doors to her sitting room, revealing homey decor with an aristocratic twist. As Harry sat down in a wooden chair, he traced its grooves with his finger. Exquisite workmanship.
"That chair was father's favorite," Daphne said, standing beside him.
"I can move, if you'd like."
She chuckled, smiling a smile devoid of humor. "Please, sit as long as you like. You'll find that Father and I have very different taste in just about every respect." She swept over a heavily cushioned recliner, lowering herself into it and crossing her legs. "Mine is far superior, of course."
"You didn't talk like that while he was alive," Astoria said.
She was seated between Fleur and Susan on a couch, still holding her purse tightly. If anything, her fingers were squeezing harder than earlier.
"Of course not," Daphne said condescendingly. "He'd have cursed me halfway to the mainland, the foul git."
"Don't insult the dead," Astoria said.
"Why not?" Daphne said. "I enjoy it. They're fun to argue with. It's easy to win."
"What was the late Lord Greengrass like?" Harry asked.
He brought Astoria because he thought she'd be helpful winning Daphne over, but the way this was going, she was more liable to be a hindrance. The sisters had a worse relationship than he realized; one that heavily involved, or was even centered around, the previous lord of the manor. Harry believed he met the man once or twice… but his recollection was blurry, totalling to little more than a face and a name— Hugo Greengrass, a man with a sharply-cut brown beard and thick bangs.
"He was a sullen man," Daphne said. "Merlin knows why. He was rich enough, and he even had me for a daughter. He should have been thrilled."
"You are very… How do the brits say it? Humble," Fleur said.
"I don't see any point in humility," Daphne said. "I'm beautiful, smart, and hold a seat on Wizengamot. Any wizard would be lucky to get a chance with me."
As she said it, she looked intently at Harry, practically glaring. Fleur didn't miss this either. A cunning look began to dawn on the French witch's face.
"You have a very beautiful lake," she said.
Even Daphne looked stumped by the sudden change in topic.
"It's certainly something to look at," Daphne said. "A view befitting a family such as ours."
"Would you mind if I took a closer look?" Fleur asked. "Harry brought me along, but I've never been much for these silly back-and-forths."
"...If you please," Daphne said.
Fleur smiled and stood up.
"Come along," she ordered Astoria. "You as well please, Susan. I'd like company."
The girls rose, Susan looking curious while Astoria looked mutinous at being ordered around so openly with her sister in the room. But there was nothing she could do but listen. Fleur led them out of the room, stopping only once on the way.
As she passed Harry, she briefly looked him in the eyes. "Do what it takes," she muttered, winking at him.
Harry considered the idea that she was telling him to physically threaten Daphne, and was removing any witnesses that would see it. He discarded the thought just as quickly. That wasn't Fleur's style. So what had she been implying, then?
"Your slave is remarkably strong-willed," Daphne said, watching the door shut. "It seems like you have a certain taste in women."
"Don't you think you're reading into one woman's personality a bit too much," Harry said.
"I was referencing Pansy as well, actually. Has she met the slave? I'm sure she'd love having that kind of competition."
"We… haven't spoken recently," Harry said.
The last time they parted had been on rough terms. Pansy's confession about marriage proposals had shaken him. Their argument at the time got heated. After that, things had spiraled from one thing to the next. And now?
The Parkinson vote was still valuable in Wizengamot. He'd make an attempt to win over Pansy and her father. Later, once feelings had settled a little bit.
"Imagine that," Daphne drawled. "I assume this cessation of contact followed closely on the heels of a bout of intercourse."
Harry's eyebrows furrowed. "Possibly," he said. "Although I don't know what that would have to do with anything."
"Of course you don't," Daphne said.
An awkward silence settled over the room as Harry pondered what approaches he could take. Finally, as the silence neared off-putting lengths, Harry chose the blunt option.
"What can I give that will make you mine," he said.
Daphne hastily straightened in her seat, pink reaching her cheeks.
"P-Politically speaking, correct?" she said.
"Of course," Harry said.
"Of course, he says," Daphne whispered. "I mean— What makes you think you have anything I want?"
Harry smiled. He leaned forward, planting his elbows on his knees and cocking his head.
"Everyone wants something," he said. "It's just about naming their price. You'll find, Daphne, that I'm very good at matching demands. You should be aware. We've known each other for long enough."
Daphne swallowed.
"I… I don't know what you're implying. I didn't want you to visit," she stammered.
Her cheeks had reddened even further. She pulled on the sides of her robes, which drew Harry's attention to them once more. They were just nice enough to be appropriate at this kind of meeting, although the amount of cleavage they showed was definitely bold in polite company. Daphne noticed him looking her over. Instead of shouting at him, she pushed her chest forward a little bit, her head still turned away from him.
…Oh. So that's what Fleur meant.
"Your loyalty would mean a lot to me," Harry said.
"Would it?" Daphne said haltingly.
He straightened, spreading his legs to a wider angle on the rocking chair. Daphne's eyes darted to the place directly between them.
"It would," Harry said. "I want you on my side, Daphne. And I'm willing to reward you handsomely should you be agreeable."
Daphne chewed her lip. "Agreeable… how?"
Harry casually unzipped his pants, opening up the fly and pulling his cock from his pants. After so long faced with Daphne's ample cleavage, there was very little room left in it for more blood, and it was quickly approaching full-mast. Daphne watched it hardening in real time. Harry suspected she didn't realize that she was licking her lips.
"Come and serve under me, Daphne," Harry said. "There's a spot waiting for you."
Daphne took it more literally than intended.
She quickly locked the door with a gesture of her wand, dropping the tool right after. Hastily looking around, triple checking that they were alone, she sank out of her chair onto the floor. Daphne crawled forward. On all-fours, Harry could see even further down her cleavage, all the way to the first pink hints of areolas.
She reached him and put her hands on his thighs, pulling her face up to his crotch. Harry's penis loomed above her, casting its shadow across her face.
"Don't stare," Daphne whispered.
Harry made no move to look away. Daphne didn't exactly appear upset. She shut her eyes and opened up her mouth, sinking it down.
Her lips moved over half of Harry's length. She paused, running her tongue in a circle, and loosened her lips to let saliva escape. It trailed down Harry's manhood. When it reached his balls, lending his phallus a pleasant shine, Daphne wrapped her soft fingers around him and twisted.
She started to bob her head, sliding down just far enough for him to brush her throat. Each time she sank down, a sloppy wet noise would emanate from deep inside. She kept her eyes closed, twisting her head and enjoying her work.
"Did you miss it?" Harry asked.
Daphne opened her eyes to glare at him. She started to work on him with extra vigor— bobbing her head faster, taking him deeper, and moving her hands quicker. The noises from her throat grew wetter and more insistent. Harry leaned forward, sliding his hands past her undulating head to reach her bust. He popped open the buttons on her robe one at a time. With each one he got to the robes loosened, falling further down her bust.
Harry's fingers brushed Daphne's skin as they did their work. Where they touched, the flesh turned bumpy. Daphne paused, looking up at him with his cock buried in her mouth.
"Don't stop," Harry instructed.
She shivered, returning to her work with even more enthusiasm. She got halfway down him now, beginning to use his tip to stretch her throat. Harry got to the lowest button he could easily reach and watched her robes fall away. Daphne's skin was pale; a lady like her wasn't supposed to do something as low-class as sunbathing. Her large, round breasts were neatly tied up in an elegant yet alluring bra. Her golden hair was starting to fall into her face, so Harry collected it in one of his hands, holding it behind her head like a ponytail. His other hand ran along his shoulder, fingers trailing her skin and giving it a delicate stroke. If they happened to knock the strap of her bra off in the process, that was, of course, utterly accidental.
"Gluuuuuuuulllp!" Daphne moaned.
She was going down far enough now that there was barely room for her hands around his shaft. Harry felt his purple tip opening the entrance to her neck. A smattering of tears formed on Daphne's face: two dripped from her left eye, one from the right. She inhaled sharply through her button nose to draw in air, ending up with a perfect whiff of his musk. The clasp to her bra was on the front, directly between her breasts, and Harry's fingers found it now. The bra popped loose, but her tits didn't sink at all, remaining firm and pert for their size. Daphne let out her loudest noise yet, groaning loudly and driving her throat onto his cock. Harry's balls tensed, his manhood flexed, and a white flood entered Daphne's mouth. The bitterness made her eyes water.
She swallowed all of it, though, no matter the taste. When she pulled back, Harry could see a strand spanning from her thick red lips to the head of his cock. It could have been spit, cum, or a mix of both.
He took a moment to admire Daphne— naked from the waist up, her robes over her legs like a blanket, kneeling in front of him with a heavy gaze. She was remarkably beautiful. Draco and Pansy both spoke of the reputation that preceded Daphne at Hogwarts. Beautiful, but untouchable. That's how she'd been described.
Harry struggled to see it, given their interactions. But he certainly wasn't complaining about what he had seen.
Harry opened up his collar and shed the nice robes he used for the Wizengamot session. Daphne's eyes darted over his muscles as he tossed aside the clothing that had covered them. Harry leaned back, his legs still sprawled out confidently, inviting Daphne. She swallowed, then rose.
Her robes clung to her body even after being unfastened, a testament to just how wide her hips were. Daphne had to hook her fingers under the edges and push in order to make them fall away. Her panties were a perfect match for her bra. Harry smirked.
"Expecting this, were you?" he asked.
Daphne did her best to glare as she stepped forward, planting her hands on his shoulders and lowering herself into his lap. "I dress well regardless of my company, Potter. It's better to expect all eventualities than to — Mmph! — embarrass yourself!"
Her speech was punctuated by a throaty moan. Instead of removing her panties, she'd just pushed them to the side, letting her slit breathe as she slid herself onto Harry's penis. She took a deep breath, burying her face against Harry's neck.
Then she began to ride.
It was just them in the room. The only noises that could be heard were the creaking of wood as their chair rocked the way it was designed to, and Daphne's cute panting. Harry rubbed her back, enjoying the way his hands glided over the smooth surface, then lifted one and brought it down on her panty-clad arse.
"You… brute!" Daphne gasped.
It wasn't a coincidence that she came the next time she sank down him.
"How far we've come," Harry said, amusement in his voice. "From you looking down on me as a half-breed mongrel, to you going down on me the moment I ask. Do you always change your mind so drastically?"
Daphne was wrapped around him, her arms and legs squeezing him for all she was worth. Her cheek was pressed against Harry's tight enough that he could sense her breath on his ear.
"Must you be so annoying?" she hissed.
Harry couldn't keep a smirk off his lips. "You're fun to tease."
He didn't expect for her to lean back, placing her face in front of his. Daphne's piercing blue eyes looked into his green ones. Despite having orgasmed less than a minute ago, her face was oddly somber.
"Is that what you call it?" she asked.
The chair creaked beneath them as Harry cocked his head. "Is that what I call what?"
Daphne kept staring at him, even as her lower lip quivered with pleasure, her hips rising and falling.
"You touched me in ways no other man ever had," she said. "You got me to beg for it. Then you came inside me, filled me with your seed… and then you left. Just like that."
"We weren't exactly dating," Harry said.
"I could feel marks of you sloshing inside me for days." Daphne said. "A simple letter would have been nice."
These last words were muttered. As she said them, Daphne finally looked away, unable to meet Harry's eyes. It didn't last long, though. Harry's fingers grabbed her chin, moving her face until it was looking at him again.
"I apologize," he said. "I misunderstood what you were looking for. I won't waste time on excuses. Instead… allow me to treat you the way I should have then."
Daphne struggled to form words for a few seconds.
"There's a lot to make up for!" she said imperiously, shutting her eyes. A moment later, she cracked them open a little bit. "So… put in a lot of effort."
Harry's hands found her arse again. Instead of giving it a smack, this time they squeezed and lifted. Rather than Daphne moving atop him, Harry was now moving her from beneath. He easily lifted her body, dropped her down, and did the same thing again. Before Daphne could so much as moan, Harry kissed her.
He'd been practicing with Fleur, and it showed. The moment his tongue got ahold of hers Daphne melted against him. Her breasts were just large enough for her nipples to brush his chest. The rocking chair protested but held out, propping Harry up as he fucked Daphne in her father's favorite seat. They pulled in what air they could get through their nostrils, unwilling to break apart for a breath. The meaty thumps of Daphne's body colliding with his could probably be heard all the way on the front lawn; or at least, that's what Harry imagined as he listened to them.
Around the side of Daphne's head, past her shaking blond hair, he could just barely see the room's main window. It looked out on the same view of the lake that he admired from the yard, sitting at just about head height for anyone inside. A flash of color drew his attention felt Daphne cumming for him again.
Fleur's face had appeared. She took in Daphne's nearly-nude body bouncing on her man's dick and smirked, confirming that this was the 'negotiation tactic' she had in mind when she excused herself. Fleur turned to the side, and Harry caught her mouth moving. A moment later, two more faces appeared beside her. They both recoiled.
Astoria scowled and ducked out of sight as fast as she appeared. Harry could see Fleur laughing. His lover could be quite cruel when she hated someone, Harry was discovering. Good. That meant they had something in common.
The reaction that really attracted his attention was on the other new face. Despite initially flinching, Susan was watching as if entranced. She traced the up-and-down movements of Daphne's body. Fleur said something, and Susan said something back, her eyes not straying for a second. Harry looked into them, and she looked back. They held eye contact.
It was a coincidence that at exactly this moment, Daphne's folds tightened around his length. He felt a moist rush and heard Daphne groan in his ear. Too much for him to hold back, Harry came too, still looking Susan in the eye.
His cum coursed through Daphne, filling her up and making her cling to his back. There was so much that it dripped down, spilling around her askew panties and dripping onto the seat of the rocking chair.
Susan was still watching as the white pool collected. It wasn't until Fleur said something else that she jumped, seeming to come back to herself. She ducked away from the window like Astoria had before her— but after watching for so long, the effect was ruined.
Daphne started kissing Harry's neck, refusing to move and enjoying the feeling of his dick in her depths. Harry rubbed her back, letting her stay. He looked at Fleur, who looked back at him, the only face remaining in the window.
He didn't have to be able to hear to read her lips and tell what she said.
'Well done.'