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SD:CH105 - The Burrow
🕑 Added 2024-02-25 18:20:09 +0000 UTCAt first glance, the Weasley Burrow gave the impression of being a large pigpen, with extra rooms sprouting here and there until it was several stories high, and crooked in all sorts of wrong directions, with four or five chimneys perched on top of a neon red roof. The movies really tried, but honestly, the building was a majestic wreck that looked like it would snap like a twig at the base if a single person so much as sneezed, but somehow it just stayed like that.
Magic seemed like the likely culprit.
But apart from its eccentric design, the wards around the building were rather potent. Not surprising since William, the eldest Weasley son, was a curse-breaker and a fairly accomplished one at that. The real Harry Potter would’ve never noticed this, but to my elevated senses, the wards practically screamed at me to stay away should I have any nefarious intentions.
No wonder old man Dumbledore felt so confident about letting his precious Boy-Who-Lived stay at the Burrow during the summers.
“Harry?” asked Hermione, biting her lip. “Do you really think bringing me along was a good idea?”
Hermione had never really been to the Burrow before this, and after her debacle with Lupin and getting infected, she was apprehensive of how the Weasleys might treat her. The Weasleys were fairly open-minded about Remus Lupin and his affliction in the books, but I didn’t want to hedge my bets over it.
“Don’t worry,” I promised her. “If the Weasleys cannot get along with you, we’ll leave and go to the World Cup by ourselves. Hestia’s gotten tickets for all four of us.”
“All.. four?” asked my second compatriot, Penelope Clearwater.
“Why yes,” I said with a disarming smile. “Me, Hermione, Hestia and yourself. Tracey will be going with her friends.”
“But —” Penelope looked apprehensive. “I’m just —”
“The consultant and lead researcher for my firm,” I told her, adding a little steel to my tone. Penelope really needed to get her shit together. She appeared mostly composed nowadays, having gotten used to staying at my place and working with me and my girls. It was a far throw from how she appeared like a lost rabbit trying to survive inside a sleeping wolf’s den back then.
I glanced at the Burrow and looked back at her.
“Afraid of seeing your ex-boyfriend?”
Penelope opened her mouth, but closed it. This was her ex’s home, and this was likely the first time she would be seeing Percy after their rather explosive breakup after that obnoxious sonofabitch had ditched her because it would look bad ‘on his resume’.
“It’s just…” she tried again, meeting my eyes, and stopped again. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m fine. Absolutely fine.”
“Great,” I chirped. “Let’s go meet the Weasleys.”
Crossing the wards, we approached the Burrow, and were welcomed by a familiar sight. The door led to the open kitchen and dining area, where Fred and George and Ron were sitting at the scrubbed wooden table, alongside two other red-haired men that ‘Harry’ had never met before, but were likely Charlie and Bill, the eldest brothers.
“Harry!” yelled Ron, noticing us first and jumping off his chair to come running to meet us. “Blimey! Look at how much you’ve grown. What? Got three years of spurts all at once?”
I laughed and gave him a bear-hug. “Something like that.”
Ron grinned, and pulled back, only to look at Hermione and froze for a second.
“....Hi, Ron,” said Hermione.
“...Err, hi. You uh, look different, Hermione.”
Hermione smiled, but said nothing.
“It’s called growing up, Ron,” I said to lighten up the atmosphere. “You’d have felt it too if you just waited patiently and drank your milk. All those Bertie Bott’s toffees are just making you lankier.”
“Balls, mate!” Ron grinned, and stepped away, glancing at my other guest. “Err, you’re —”
“Penelope. Penelope Clearwater. I work for Mr. —”
“She’s a friend,” I introduced, cutting her off. “And she’s helping me with this new business I've started in the summer.”
“Did someone say business?” said Fred, or was that George? The other twin grinned at his brother and then back at me. “Lil’ Harry’s all grown up. Following the footsteps of the new marauders.”
I thought back to all the ‘footsteps’ I had taken over the summer since I woke up in Harry Potter’s body and said, “Yes, something like that.”
We took a seat at the table. Charlie, the shorter and stockier of the lot, introduced himself to me. He had a broad, good-natured face, weather-beaten and tanned with hands with permanent burns on them.
“Dragons do that to you,” he said, noticing my gaze. “Bit difficult to mend burns made by dragon fire. But hey, scars are sexy.”
Hermione rolled her eyes.
The eldest of the lot, William ‘Bill’ Weasley strode up to him. He was tall, with long hair tied back in a ponytail, and a lot better looking in person. No wonder even Fleur Delacour gave him her time of day. Mr. Weasley wasn’t at home, and ‘Weatherby’ was likely sucking up to Crouch as well. Ginny was likely out with friends, which only left —
“Harry!” said Molly Weasley, climbing down the stairs.
“...I hate the books,” I muttered, making Hermione give me a strange look. But just hear me on this. The books painted Molly as a short, plump and kindly-looking woman with curly, red hair that could at times, do a very distinctive sabre-tooth impression when angered. The woman that was climbing down the stairs was anything but. She wasn’t fat and didn’t have any ‘rolls’ of any kind, but everything about her was thick and curvy, except the waist which was surprisingly small, especially with that tight leather apron she had on. It emphasised her rather large breasts. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d put her somewhere up there at a hundred and fifty pounds. Her skirt was skin-tight because of how big her hips, thighs and butt were, and surprise, surprise, my mind went to a really familiar place, wondering how it would be like to tap that arse.
I know. I’m a lecher. Shouldn’t surprise you at this point.
“Morning, Mrs. Weasley!”
“Oh, Harry!” she said kindly. “How many times do I have to ask you to call me Molly?”
“Once more, Mrs. Weasley,” I laughed.
Thankfully, none of the Weasleys were acting out of character. This was Hermione’s first time at the Burrow, and while Mrs. Weasley was indeed welcoming, it was clear she wasn’t interested in playing matchmaker for her and Ron. I met Hermione’s eyes for a fleeting second, and she promised me that she was perfectly comfortable.
The rest of the day passed pretty much normally. I hung out with Ron and the twins, the latter showing me their new inventions, the tongue-tying toffee, fake wands and an incredible number of enchanted confectionaries with effects that would’ve made any potioneer worth their salt frothing in their mouth. Sure the twins devoted their time to pranking and inventing things in that direction, but it didn’t hide the fact that they were literary geniuses. Tying runes to otherwise muggle sticks and enchanting them to function as a normal wand, inserting a cross-species transfiguration matrix into something as inconspicuous as a confectionary activated by human saliva, it was just one thing after another. I really needed Penelope to look at some of these to see if we could benefit from these two prodigies. Fred secretly told me how they planned to double their savings by betting on the finals, for their plans for ‘Weasley Wizarding Wheezes’, and I kept my mouth shut.
It would be incredibly easier to offer them a proposal for funding with fifty percent share in profits after they lost their capital.
While I was letting the twins talk about their plans and making small talk with Bill about curse-breaking, Ron was ever so subtly trying to make conversation with Hermione and failing. Not that I could blame him, for Hermione did look different.
Gone was the bushy hair, which had been tamed straight and was flowing down her shoulders. A sensual grace about her that oozed sex appeal hung around her. It didn’t help that the way she stared at Ron reminded me of a hungry wolf looking at a particularly juicy gazelle, and I wasn’t being metaphorical here. She looked prettier than before, and yet, a strange darkness marred her features, like a feral predator that was choosing to stay domesticated but could just as easily crush your neck at a whim.
I had my suspicions that being doused with raw necromantic energy had some unforeseen effects on the muggleborn. What those were, still remained to be seen.
He probably imagined Hermione to look like Lupin — scarred, unkempt, her hair bushier than ever, with a ferality rising from the curse. Someone that he felt both sorry for, and uncomfortable to be with. Instead, he was meeting someone who looked like a supermodel with a poise and sensuality that was so un-Hermione-like.
Arthur Weasley had been late to return home, something about some witch enchanting electrical appliances in a factory causing several buildings to blow up in flames, making Arthur and his men work overtime to get things under control. On the other hand, the man got to collect a lot of plugs and sockets, which got him smiling like a cherub.
But the greatest of reactions came in the evening. I had taken Ron up for a game of wizard chess, and was about to lose the third time in a row. Either Ron was just one of those idiot savants that were naturally gifted at one single thing, or I was just that pathetic at playing the game.
Then I thought about the kind of games I was playing in the real world, and that made me feel better.
The clock struck seven, and Percy Weasley walked out of Floo, and found Penelope talking to his mother. Seeing him repeatedly open and close his mouth almost made me laugh, before he looked at me, and connected things together, and went rushing upstairs, probably to his room.
“Don’t mind Percy,” said Ron. “He’s been a git ever since he got that job at the Ministry of Magic. Galloping gargoyles, mate, he’s been unbearable. Yells at everyone just for running down the stairs, disturbing his top-secret work for the Ministry of Magic.”
‘A report for the Department of International Magical Cooperation,” said Ginny smugly, in a perfect imitation of Percy. “We’re trying to standardise cauldron thickness. Some of these foreign imports are just so thin — why, the leakages are increasing at a rate of three percent a year.”
Ron fell off laughing.
“Git,” Ginny scowled. She glanced at Penelope, who looked a little self-conscious. “Penelope works for you now, doesn’t she?”
“Works?” asked Ron, surprised. “Didn’t Harry say she’s just helpin’ —”
“I head the research and enchanting division of Moonforge,” said Penelope softly, avoiding my eyes. “Mr. Potter, err, Harry hired me in the summer.”
“Blimey, mate, what have you been up to?”
“Oh you know,” I shrugged. “A bit of this, a bit of that.”
I glanced at the stairs, and then at Penelope. I’ll admit I was interested in seeing Percy’s reaction when he found out that Penelope was making four times his monthly salary. The girl was easily intimidated and held herself back because of her past stigmas, and getting over Percy’s rejection would go a long way for her.
My eyes went to Molly Weasley, who had been casting glances at me all evening. I knew that getting Penelope to talk with her was merely an excuse for it. Molly had always treated Harry Potter as a son, but between the Incubus aura, and my altered appearance, I wondered how different this Molly was. It didn’t help that I had seen something listed in Arthur Weasley’s sexual interests after I had scanned him using my latest perk.
Wittoldry.
....
....
....
Bill had gone out, wanting to spend the night out with friends, leaving me to settle in his room. Unlike Ron’s chudley obsession, Bill’s room was decorated with pictures of the Tutshill tornados, a team that legitimately had a chance of hitting top four in the league. Hermione was initially offered that room, but Ginny offered to share hers, given how they were ‘friends’. The mad glint in her eyes practically dared her family to cross her decision. Deciding to ease things up, I had offered to sleep with Ron, so that Penelope could stay in Bill’s Room instead. Ever the workaholic, Penelope had actually taken out a wad of documents and begun making corrections on what I assumed were runic configurations on advanced enchanting.
At ten, the family went to bed, though unwillingly on the part of Ron and the twins. As I followed them upstairs, I noticed the landing nearest to Penelope’s room squeaked loudly. Neither Ron nor the twins missed it, but I thought I felt a shadow move towards the balcony further right. And just right then, I heard Penelope slam the door shut loudly, before everything went silent.
Sleep was hard to come by at the Weasley household. Harry Potter might have slept like a log here, but I was used to a different class of service. Besides, living in my apartment had made me a slave to comfort that I could only dream of in my past life, and the constant noises made by the ghoul up in the attic, not to mention Ron’s snores that reminded him of a particularly old motor engine didn’t help matters. A silencing charm could’ve helped matters, but I was busy thinking about a certain consultant of mine that was sleeping downstairs. Finally, I could no longer bear it, and stood up, carefully silencing my footsteps and walking out of the room. It was past eleven, and yet the lights in Penelope’s room were still on. I hesitated for a moment, but then stepped forward and tapped on the door plaque twice.
“How many times do I have to tell you —” Penelope began, as she opened the door to my face, only to freeze as she recognized the intruder. Her eyes widened, and her hands flew to her hair, trying desperately to smooth down flyaways, but it was hopeless. Her bun had come undone, and her curls were spilling down her shoulder on one side. I grabbed her wrist, stopping her.
“Penelope, it’s okay.”
She shivered at my touch, and a feeling of excitement swelled inside her. The predator in me sensed blood, and licked its proverbial chops. I know I had whispered it, but Penelope reacted to it as if it was a command. She raised her eyes as I moved closer, into the room. Instead of surprise, confusion or perhaps anger at the intrusion, her pupils dilated with an unexpected tenderness.
“You are not on duty right now,” I told her softly, smoothing the hair out of her eyes. “Just relax.”
She sucked in a breath, unsure how to react.
My hand lingered in her hair, teasing her hurls around my fingers. I could hear the sound of her heart thumping so loudly, no doubt because of my closeness. Was it just the effect of my aura, or something else?
“Uh, Sir —”
“Harry is fine,” I told her, stepping into the room. A bunch of papers were strewn all over the table, while the bed looked unused. No doubt she hadn’t gotten any sleep.
“This is a holiday, you know,” I told her again. “You don’t have to work yourself to death. It’ll damage my reputation if others find out.”
She chuckled, and I realised her eyes were red.
“Have you been…. Is something wrong?”
“It’s uh, nothing,” she said. “I just fell asleep while working. I promise I haven’t been —”
“Miss Clearwater,” I said sternly, but mocking at the same time. “I swear if I have to throw you over my shoulder to put you to bed, I’ll do it. You are on a holiday to enjoy the World Cup. Though… I imagine a certain snot-nosed redhead is making things problematic for you.”
She opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it.
“Let me guess, Percy came in earlier, didn’t he?” I asked bluntly. “I imagine he said some unkind things and left you crying. Again.”
Her cheeks burned, but she said nothing.
“So, I was right.”
I stared down at her frowning, a crease growing on my brow.
She ran a hand over her face and sighed, before pulling out of my grip. “I’m fine, really — AAH!”
I spanked her, and despite the furious blush on her face, she said nothing.
“I told you. I don’t like sloppiness. So when I tell you to tell me the truth, you tell me the truth. Now, did Percy say or do anything to you? I swear I will spank your arse raw if you attempt to lie to me again. Is that what you want?”
She opened her mouth to protest, then shut it again, sensing the trap. “I… uh, Percy came earlier, yes. He… he said that I was just manipulating a boy younger than me into paying me. That nobody in the right mind would ever give me a job, and that I didn’t — I didn’t deserve it.” With that she broke down crying, and fell on my shoulder, sobbing her heart out.
I let her.
After what seemed like ages, I spoke up. “And do you agree with his words?”
Penelope said nothing.
“I don’t like sloppiness, Penelope.”
“I…” she sniffed. “No, I don’t think I’m… undeserving. But nobody else has ever… ever…”
“They are fools,” I said softly. “Ostriches that are happy to put their head under the sand and pretend everything is fine in their perfect, little world. They do not care for the inherent bigotry in the system. I didn’t hire you because I pity you, or because you are a muggleborn. I hired you because you have talent, just like every other person you have recommended. I hired you because I think your talents are far better served in your current position than serving ice cream to entitled motherfuckers that wouldn’t know which end of the wand to hold without their daddies helping them.”
Penelope chuckled at the last bit.
I pulled her away and held her face, meeting her glistening eyes. “I am aware of your potential, Penelope Clearwater, and I am too selfish to just let it stay by itself. You work for me, and so, you represent me. So the next time Percy Weasley or any other annoying bastard bad-mouths you, think of them badmouthing me, and ask yourself, What would Harry do? And react accordingly.”
She giggled. “You’d have made a fool out of them.”
I shrugged. “Guilty.”
Then she realised where she was standing, and how. As if scorched, she suddenly moved away, blushing profusely, remembering what she had just done moments ago.
It’s alright,” I told her, and headed for the door. “Now go, get to sleep. We need to leave early tomorrow. I will take my leave. Good night.”
“Wait.”
I paused. “Yes?”
“I… I want to ask you something.”
I turned and looked at her, arching an eyebrow. “Yes?”
The look in her eyes was… I suppose I could call it a mixture of sadness, acceptance and bravery. She was about to do something she had never done before, and she was terrified of the outcome. No, she expected things to take a bad turn, but she knew that stepping back was not an option.
“Why wouldn’t you punish me anymore?”
Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, but I knew what she said.
“Penelope… I wasn’t supposed to punish you like that in the first place. It was wrong of me. I forgot myself.”
What else was I supposed to say? That her prey-like behaviour made me want to play with her? That the only reason she was not already in bed screaming my name was because I knew it would be all too easy? That I had intentionally rejected the chance to bang her and add her as an anchor simply because she had made herself horribly easy to get?
“It.. won’t happen again,” I told her. “I won’t lose my temper, like that. With you.”
I took a step back, but Penelope took a step in my direction.
“But why not?” She asked. “I don’t mind.”
A tick formed above my right eye.
“I… I liked it,” she admitted softly.
A moment hung suspended before I replied. “You don’t want me to go along that route, Penelope.”
“Why?” She asked. “I have been a bad, lazy, forgetful employee after that. I broke your rules. I spilled coffee on my shirt, but all you did was yell at me and send me away. But why wouldn’t you punish me?” Her voice cracked a bit, and she looked away. “If you don’t want me…. I understand.”
This girl….
“It’s not that,” I said.
“Then what?” She challenged, a fiery defiance in her eyes. I wondered how she would be if I could bring her fiery spirit out in the spotlight. “It can’t be because of Hermione Granger. You have been sleeping with Miss Jones. And doing… other things. And the weasley girl too. And Davis too, I think. Is it… is it because I refused your offer back then?”
Truth be told, Penelope was quite attractive, but the idea of Percy’s sloppy seconds didn’t really appeal to me. Then again, Percy’s probably one of those straight and narrow ‘saving it for my wedding day types’, and if not that, then a quick ‘get in, get out, and nobody gets a clue’ sort.
Going by his constipated expression, it was probably the latter.
But by that logic, I’d have to skip past nearly every woman in the Wizarding world. Besides, like I always say — don’t worry where the car’s been, or who might’ve drove it before. Just take it for a spin!
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” I said, giving her a last chance to cop out.
“Try me.”
There was a moment of tension, so thick that she looked like she was about to suffocate, and then I closed the distance between us, grabbing her roughly, bringing my lips on hers. She felt hot and urgent, and my tongue met hers… searching, tasting, teasing…
She clutched the front of my shirt, wanting to rip it off, but wasn’t sure if it was okay. I broke the kiss, and gave her a ravenous look. I must have looked like a wild animal, ready to devour her, and she, to be devoured.
“I can smell your need,” I growled, and slipped a hand against her sex, feeling her wetness. “You are on fire for me.”
Penelope moaned.
“Tell me you want this.”
“I… I want this.”
And then the door opened without preamble, and Percy Weasley stepped into the room. “Penelope, can you keep the noise down? Some of us have important things to do unlike….”
His eyes met mine, then at Penelope, and then at the way we were groping each other.
“...You.” Percy finished, only to freeze and drop face-first to the floor.
“Petrifaction hex,” said Penelope, using her wand to levitate the frozen Percy Weasley to the floor next to her bed. I didn’t know where she had kept the wand or how she had drawn it that fast, but it was impressive nonetheless.
“What’s the idea?” I asked her.
Penelope gave a dark look at Percy’s fallen form. Even when frozen, he somehow managed to give a sourpuss look, glaring at us.
With another flick of her wand, the door closed, and she cast a couple of charms as well. One of them, I recognized in amusement, was a supersensory charm inside the room, while keeping it from escaping outside.
“Now,” said Penelope, meeting my eyes with a confidence I had never seen before. “Where were we?”
Comments
Hadrian v.E.
It's not enough that Penny stunned Weasel and is forcing him to watch his unsatisfied ex-girlfriend becoming a hot mess by her studly employer; Penny, backed up by Harry, should also brutally verbally humiliate him in front of all the Weasleys and Weasels.
Critical_Hit
Still waiting patiently for the stats that Anastasia gave Harry ^-^
Victor Weismann
huuh, is being a awayle, you can post the image of the caracthers again? I'm sure all caracthers in this universe is diferent from the original
Alkole
Idk feel like u should just obliviate him and put him to sleep in his room. Can't have this fic get too messy cause it seems like harry is being spread too thin
