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Dreams of Mine - Chapter 2
🕑 Added 2026-01-24 14:20:10 +0000 UTCContent Warnings: Somnophilia, BJs, Teasing.
The fires seemed unending. Whenever she put one out, a million more sprang up. Susan liked being a Healer. She was great at taking care of people. Everything else that came with working at Mungo’s? Not so much. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. She idly wondered if Voldemort had to suffer through office politics during his reign of terror as she made the short trek up to her house. Had Nott and Malfoy ever made him solve their petty grievances? The thought made her giggle.
Being Harry Potter’s wife lent her an air of unearned authority. She was the youngest department head at Mungo’s in over three centuries, and she knew her rapid ascent wasn’t solely because of her healing skills. That she was a hero of the Battle of Hogwarts had certainly helped, but Susan knew in her heart that being Susan Bones-Potter was what mattered more. She tried not to let that thought annoy her. The world, she reminded herself, wouldn’t change just because her husband had gotten rid of the wanker trying to ruin it.
Susan abandoned her rumination as she climbed the wooden steps to the porch of her house. She tried her best not to let work interfere with the little time she got to spend with her husband. The door clicked open the second she touched the brass doorknob. The doorknob glowed for a second as the wards registered her presence before returning to normal. She pushed open the door and walked into the welcoming warmth of her house, busying herself with undoing her cloak and scarf before she ventured any deeper.
Harry was next to her in the blink of an eye. “Here, let me help you with that,” he said. His calloused hands gently tugged on the woollen scarf, pulling the red garment free of her neck and safely depositing it on the coat rack next to the door. “How was your day?”
“The usual,” Susan answered, her voice muffled as she pulled the cloak over her head. She carefully hung it on the coat rack and gave her blouse a gentle tug before turning to her husband. “People keep trying to drag me into their personal feuds. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“No?”
“No,” Susan answered firmly. She knew Harry would try to get her to talk and work through her emotions, but she could think of a much better use for her lips. She leaned on her toes and kissed her husband softly. “Not when I have my perfect husband within arm’s reach. You seem to get hotter with every passing day, love.”
They were interrupted by an awkward cough. Susan pulled away from Harry and leaned around him in an effort to locate the source of the sound. Daphne and Charlie were seated on the couch by the fireplace, both studiously staring at the rosewood floor of her living room. Five years ago, their presence would have made her spontaneously combust from embarrassment. Fortunately, the passage of time changed many things, including her opinion on public displays of affection. She loved her husband, and she didn’t care who saw her express that love.
“Hey, Daph. Charlie, this is a pleasant surprise! When did you return from Bulgaria? I didn’t know we were hosting guests for dinner, love,” she said with a reproachful look at her husband. She turned to her guests after receiving an apologetic smile from Harry. “If you give me an hour, Winky and I will whip up a nice roast for dinner.”
“Sorry. Charlie wanted to have a chat in private, and it seemed easier to talk here than in the office,” Harry apologised.
“You don’t need to do anything, Susan,” Charlie interjected. “We’ll be fine.”
“Nonsense. It’s dinner time, and I’m not letting you leave without eating something.” Susan shook her head. “I’m going to whip something up with Winky while you talk,” she added, leaning up to kiss Harry’s cheek. She giggled at the discreet pat to her butt and made her way to the kitchen, her worries forgotten.
“Good evening, mistress,” Winky said, turning around at the sound of happy humming. She carefully placed the plate into the sink and dried her hands. “Would you like a drink?”
“While I would love one of your fantastic banana daiquiris, we have guests for dinner.” Susan pulled out her favourite floral-pattern apron from the cabinet above the sink and pulled it over her head. “I’m thinking roast chicken with garlic butter?”
“Master Charlie and Mistress Daphne are staying for dinner?” Winky perked up. She abandoned the dishes and joined her mistress next to the stove. “I can prepare the chicken while you relax in the living room, mistress.”
“Winky, I have done nothing useful with my hands today. You know, I entered Healer training under the delusion that I’d be helping sick people. Instead, I spent the entire day dealing with fifty pages of complaints. Let me cook for my husband.”
“How can Winky help?”
Susan smiled. She and Winky had bonded over their shared need to feel needed. Unlike most pureblood wives, she often joined her house elf in the kitchen to prepare meals. On days Harry was travelling or too busy to eat at home, they often ate together. Consequently, their relationship had only deepened through the years.
“Why don’t you get started on the chicken while I prepare my signature mashed potatoes?” Susan asked. She quickly washed her hands and made her way to the fridge, gathering everything she needed in a small basket. She preferred working with her hands. It focused her thoughts and helped her relax like nothing else. She and Winky rarely used magic in the kitchen. Harry often joked that handmade food tasted better. Although she doubted that actually the case, she knew her husband appreciated her effort and happily continued the tradition.
It took Winky and her slightly over an hour to cook and plate everything. By the time she had finished, she was covered in sweat and exhausted, but happier than she had been all day. “Can you fix me a daiquiri, Winky? I’ll take the food to the living room.”
“Mistress should eat at the dining table,” Winky said reproachfully.
“I know only heathens eat in the living room, but they’ve been having a meeting. I’m not sure it’s finished. I don’t want to interrupt them,” Susan laughed. She loaded the plates onto trays and carried them to the living room with a flick of her wand.
“Who died?”
The room was completely silent when Susan walked in. Harry was seated in his favourite armchair, staring at the glass of firewhiskey in his hands. Daphne had ignored her tumbler in favour of gazing into the fireplace, and Charlie was aimlessly twiddling his thumbs.
“Did I interrupt something? I can leave.”
“No, it’s alright,” Harry sighed as he rose from his stupor. He got up from the armchair and grabbed the floating trays, handing them out to their guests before taking his plate and hers back to the couch. “Come sit with me.”
Susan happily perched on Harry’s lap and accepted the offered plate. She carefully placed it on the coffee table, then turned to wrap her arm around her husband’s shoulders. “What’s wrong?” she asked, pulling herself closer to his warmth.
“Trouble in Bulgaria. Someone stole a dragon cub. The mother went on a rampage, and two British magizoologists were severely injured.”
“I didn’t hear anything about it at work.” Trauma wasn’t her department, but news travelled fast in the hospital. “Surely you can lean on the Bulgarians to transport them to Mungo’s. We have the best trauma department on the continent.”
“That won’t be a problem. I suspect the Bulgarians will be happy to wash their hands of the matter. Bad look for them if they die in a Bulgarian hospital.”
“Are their injuries that severe?” Susan asked, her brow furrowed.
“Yes,” Charlie sighed. “It was a Hungarian Horntail. I think your husband knows how lethal enraged mothers of that species can be.”
“They’ll be fine, love,” Harry murmured, kissing her shoulder. He hadn’t touched his food either.
“Charlie came to me. I’d have handled it and wouldn’t have disturbed you two at this hour…” Daphne trailed off.
Susan sighed. Harry’s Senior Undersecretary was efficient to a fault. Sadly, that also meant she blamed herself whenever she needed help or advice. Daphne was always ready to help, but seemed to find it difficult to accept help when needed.
“But?” Susan prodded gently. She leaned closer to the fork Harry helped in front of her lips and nibbled on the chicken.
“Charlie found a scrap of paper in the dragon sanctuary while searching for clues. It doesn’t contain any writing, but it has half of a seal.”
“Ah.” Susan immediately understood the reason behind the late visit. “Which Wizengamot lord or lady’s illicit activities will I be reading about in tomorrow’s Daily Prophet?”
“If only it were that simple,” Harry sighed.
“I could handle members of that august body,” Daphne said derisively. “No, we suspect that the thieves were contracted by Gringotts to steal a dragon for the bank.”
“Bill tells me they faced a significant loss in public confidence after two break-ins in just seven years. They’ve been desperately looking for ways to regain that trust,” Charlie added.
Susan refused another bite with a shake of her head and stared at their guests. Events that had occurred during Harry’s time at Hogwarts seemed like ancient history to her. That wasn’t the case for everyone, it seemed.
“That was years ago. Hell, one of the people who broke into Gringotts is the Minister of Magic. Another is the Supreme Mugwump of Wizengamot. The third is a beloved Quidditch commentator!”
“That, unfortunately, makes things worse. None of them were punished for the break-in or for stealing a dragon.”
“Are you telling me my husband should be punished for doing whatever it took to rid the world of Voldemort, Charlie?” Susan asked with raised eyebrows. “Has he not sacrificed enough?”
“If it were up to me, I’d give Harry a big medal for freeing that poor dragon,” Charlie answered in a conciliatory tone. “Unfortunately, Gringotts saw the dragon as an asset that was stolen from them most unjustly. If I recall correctly, they raised a big ruckus over Harry violating their neutrality after the war.”
“Minister Shacklebolt told them to kick rocks,” Daphne said with quiet admiration. “He also helped Hermione pass the Protection of Magical Creatures Act, which forbids the use of captive magical creatures as guards. So this theft violates several laws.”
“Human laws,” Harry interjected with a sigh. “Those laws do not apply to Gringotts, which is sovereign goblin territory. Charlie, I’ll happily provide whatever personal or Ministry resources you need to catch the smugglers, but neither I nor any of my representatives can enter Gringotts without an invitation. In case you’ve forgotten, they don’t let me bank with them anymore.”
“You could send in the Aurors,” Daphne mused.
“If I do that, students at Hogwarts will be cursing our names for making them learn about another human-goblin war fifty years from now. Think of a way to recover the dragon that doesn’t involve violence, please.”
None were forthcoming. Susan didn’t try particularly hard. She didn’t have a head for politics. It was why she had asked Neville to safeguard the interests of the Bones family in Wizengamot as her godbrother. The only solution she could think of was asking the Board of Gringotts to hand the dragon over, but if Harry did that, they would probably laugh in his face if they didn’t outright deny that they had stolen the cub in the first place. The silence was broken by Winky’s arrival, who handed her a banana daiquiri.
“Would master, mistress, or their guests like anything else?”
Susan waited for an answer, but when none came, she dismissed Winky with a polite smile. The elf bowed and retreated to the kitchen, leaving them in uncomfortable silence once more. She couldn’t think of anything productive to add to the discussion, and she could feel the exhaustion taking its toll.
“Alright. I will leave you all to the business of saving the world. I’m going to take my drink, my new novel, and my tired body to the bathtub. A warm bath awaits me.” Susan carefully pulled herself off Harry’s lap and turned to kiss his head. “Don’t stay up too late. Come back to bed soon. I’ll be waiting,” she whispered.
“Food?”
“I’m not hungry,” Susan murmured. “You need to finish both plates. I know you didn’t have lunch today.”
Susan withdrew before their guests expressed discomfort. She knew Daphne was used to her antics by now, but Charlie was a rare visitor to their household and probably wasn’t accustomed to frequent displays of affection. She accepted a kiss on her cheek from Daphne and a hug from Charlie before making her way up the stairs to her bedroom. She passed Winky as she walked down the second-floor passageway. The house elf was humming a ditty as she dusted the furniture in the nursery-turned-guest room.
“Winky, dear, I’ve told you so many times.” Susan paused and turned towards the elf. Her voice slipped into a maternal tone without any effort. One of her greatest regrets in life was the lack of children despite repeated efforts to conceive. One day, she reminded herself. One day, she and Harry would have a big, beautiful family, and their house would be filled with happiness and laughter. “You don’t need to clean these rooms every day. We rarely use them.”
“What if master’s guests wish to stay the night?”
“They’re not staying over. They’ll be leaving after dinner. So, go fix yourself a plate and relax.”
“Is mistress retiring for the night?”
“Yes. And Harry’s got food and an entire bottle of firewhiskey, so he won’t be needing you either. I won’t have you overworking yourself.”
“Goodnight, mistress,” Winky said with a bow. A loud ‘pop’ echoed through the room, and she disappeared.
When she stepped into the room she shared with Harry, the anxiety gnawing at her all day dissipated. The faint scent of freshly cut grass and clean linen drifted through the air, and Susan felt her shoulders loosen. Her fuzzy pink slippers waited by the bed, and the small lamp on the nightstand next to her side of the bed bathed the room in a warm, honeyed glow. Everything was calm, orderly, and inviting. Winky, she decided, was a goddess.
“I need to get her a gift,” Susan murmured to herself as her feet sank into the familiar warmth of the slippers. “Maybe some nice socks. I know she doesn’t have a green pair in her collection.” Talking to herself was soothing. As much as she loved spending time with Harry, she felt their willingness to give each other space for much-needed alone time was one of the many factors contributing to the success of their rock-solid marriage.
Susan unbuttoned her blouse, the white fabric crisp and tired from the day, and let it slip from her shoulders. The skirt followed, and both garments were carelessly chucked into the laundry basket. She sighed softly once she had reached back and managed to undo the clasp of her bra. Having to wear one with her bust was torture, but so were her boobs bouncing around every time she ran to respond to an emergency. At least, she didn’t have to bother with one at home. She picked it up with her toes, depositing it into the laundry basket once it was in her hands. Her underwear was next. The sudden coolness of the air brushed against her bare skin before she pulled her soft bathrobe out of the cupboard and wrapped it around herself, the cotton warm and forgiving against the traces of her fatigue.
Once in the bathroom, she turned the tap and let hot water thunder into the tub, steam curling up like breath on glass. A drizzle of her favourite strawberry-scented soap thickened the air with sweetness as bubbles bloomed across the surface of the turbid water. She set the drink she had carried all the way to the bathroom at the edge of the bath, resisting the urge to gulp it down. It was a means to relax, she reminded herself, not a crutch. She set her new romance novel beside the drink and turned to the sink to begin her nightly routine. The routine ended as it always did, with her shedding her bathrobe and padding over to the nearly full bathtub. When she finally eased into the water, heat met her skin like a slow tide.
“Mhmmm,” she sighed, her eyes fluttering shut. There was nothing quite like a warm bath to wash away the troubles of the day. The only way she would feel any better was if Harry were with her, his manhood deep in her belly. Sex in a bathtub was, unfortunately, rather impractical. They had tried. That didn’t mean she would stop fantasising, however. A hand slipped between her thighs as she picked up her book, her drink forgotten. “Let’s see if Julio manages to save you, honey,” she murmured as she flipped to the correct page. It took her fingers seconds to brush past her lips and sink into her warm core. Her thumb rested lightly on her clit, caressing the nub with gentle strokes.
Julio was dashing, but he didn’t hold a candle to Harry, she mused idly. Her husband’s chest was wider, his arms stronger, and he had never struggled to rescue her. Harry had shielded her from a venomous bite in their third year, protected her from Umbridge’s inquisitors in their fifth, and in their sixth…
“Fuck,” Susan breathed. The very thought of Harry’s arms wrapped around her protectively made her quiver. Her fingers plunged deeper, and her eyes glazed over, the black words on the page replaced with visions of Harry’s tensed biceps. He’d lifted her like a rag doll and carried her to the Hospital Wing without breaking a sweat. Susan spread her legs wider, and her fingers delved deeper into her folds as a quiet moan escaped her lips.
There was something primal about Harry’s protectiveness. He had always been there when she needed him without fail. She needed him now…
Susan’s thoughts drifted away from her book. Her husband was so perfect, there were days she worried he wasn’t real. It wasn’t hard to picture him naked with her eyes shut, his hands pinning her soft body against his wiry frame as he manhandled her to his heart’s desire. Her wolf liked playing rough with his prey. She grazed her nail across her clit, the sudden jolt of pain sending a delicious tingle up her spine. Her legs spread wider, too far apart now to fit the width of the tub. Bubbles smashed against her stiff nipples and burst, every pop sending currents through the sensitive nubs.
“Oh, Harry…” she breathed as her fingers plumbed the depths of her womanhood with methodical efficiency. She could take care of herself, but what was the point when her husband could do it infinitely better? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d used her fingers to cum. But she was close now. So, so close.
Susan shuddered as a wave of pleasure consumed her body. Warmth bloomed in her belly and radiated outward, washing away the tiredness and replacing it with well-deserved contentment. Her grasp on the book loosened, and it slipped through her fingers, landing in the rippling water with a loud splash. The sound echoed through the bathroom and shattered her pleasant fantasy.
“Shit,” Susan swore under her breath, flailing around instinctively. Her elbow crashed into the stem of the cocktail glass, knocking it to the tiled floor. The glass shattered into several pieces the second it made impact with the floor. “Shit. Shit!”
There was no salvaging the glass. She fished the book from the bath and tossed it into the sink. She’d deal with it in the morning. Pulling her wand from her hair, she cast a simple spell to gather the glass in one neat pile and banish it to the kitchen. Winky would have words for her, but they, too, could wait until the next day. For now, she was far too content to be bothered by such minor accidents.
Susan clambered out of the now tepid water in the tub to grab a towel. Wrapping the fluffy white garment around her, she exited the bathroom and noticed her husband lying face down in their bed, still in his office clothes. She sighed. He had the weight of an entire community on his shoulders at an age when all he rightfully needed to worry about was putting a baby in his wife's belly. Hadn’t he done enough? What more did they want from him? Magical Britain didn’t deserve him, but they still needed him. So, he served. She doubted he would have it any other way.
She padded over to him, the mattress creaking under her weight as she climbed onto the bed. She hugged him from behind, her generous bust digging into the firm muscles of his back as she leaned in to whisper in his ear.
“No work clothes in our bed, love. Come on, be good and take them off,” she murmured. Harry grunted sleepily, but made no move to get out of bed even after she had climbed off him. “You’re such a baby,” Susan teased. Perhaps she, too, had a primal desire to care. She never tired of looking after him.
It took significant effort on her part to roll her husband onto his back, but magicking his shirt off once she’d managed to do so was a breeze. The crisp, white garment was carelessly chucked onto the floor. She couldn’t help herself as she stared at his relaxed body. Her hands grabbed his shoulders to support herself as she leaned in and nuzzled into the crook of his neck. From there, it was a slow exploration of the contours of the firm muscles of his chest with her lips. Every scar dotting his tanned skin was inspected with admiration and caressed with soft kisses. He hissed when she playfully nipped at the stiff nubs crowning the areolas on his chest, but didn’t show any indication of waking. Everything about him was hard. It made her wonder…
Despite her sudden and overwhelming desire to do so, going any lower was impossible in her current position. Susan reluctantly relinquished her hold on Harry’s shoulders and turned in place, so that she was facing his feet. Not even woollen trousers could hide her husband’s impressiveness. The bulge in his pants was slight but clearly perceptible. Resisting the urge to tear at them like a starving man attacking the last piece of bread, she carefully charmed the trousers off his body and onto the floor. His boxers received similar treatment. Despite years of marriage, the sheer enormity of his manhood still took her breath away.
Susan wasn’t in a hurry. She bent to close the distance between her lips and their prize, her back arching and the towel riding up her waist to expose her bum to the cool night air. The gentle tickle of the wind made her shiver, but did not dissuade her from her current course of action. Her lips dragged around the rim of his bulbous tip, demanding tribute. She didn’t have to wait long. A groan and a slight twitch of his throbbing shaft, and a trickle of precum ran down and stained her lips. She parted them, greedily lapping up her salty reward. Once she had taken all that was offered, she pulled away and studied the three thick green veins that ran across the length of her husband’s cock.
“Which should I worship today?” she hummed to herself. “Eeny.” She bent and kissed the vein closest to her. “Meeny.” Then the next. “Miny.” She turned in the opposite direction and traced the final vein with her lips. “Moe.” Her lips returned to his tip, but this time she parted them and let it impale her mouth. She slowly lowered herself on his throbbing shaft, gracefully swallowing inch after inch of his cock.
She was no longer the inexperienced girl trying to pleasure her boyfriend on their third date. While her eyes still watered and drool inevitably leaked through her parted lips, she expertly worked through the building gag reflex and buried her nose in his balls as she took him till his hilt. Her teeth gently grazed the thin flap of skin linking his shaft to his balls, and he shuddered under her. Her lips curled around his cock in a satisfied grin.
Susan stayed in place. She did not have the desire, nor felt the need to move. When awake, Harry took her like a bull. Rarely did she get the chance to explore his body on her own terms. She swirled her tongue around his shaft as her pale green eyes studied and memorised every aberration and scar on his thighs. She pulled free of him and turned her attention to a big but faint scar on his right thigh, gently kissing it as if in an attempt to heal him of his past tribulations.
A hand absentmindedly wrapped around his throbbing manhood and began to pump, aided by her saliva coating his skin. Every motion elicited a quiet groan and resulted in a trickle of precum spilling out of his tip. She liked him in this state. When he was awake, she felt like he worried far too much about her pleasure to truly enjoy himself. Sometimes she wondered what it would have been like to be married to a man who fucked and came without so much as a passing thought for his wife’s pleasure. She shuddered at the unpleasantness of such a relationship.
As if to reward him for his fastidiousness as a lover, she buried her face between his thighs and busied herself with his balls even as her hand pumped his shaft. She took the left orb between her lips, sucking on it lazily. It held a treasure she desired, and she would have it all. Every fold and wrinkle was traced by her tongue and carefully committed to memory. She moved to his right testicle, but before she could do anything, his shaft twitched in her grip, and a squirt of cum splattered onto her hand.
“Good,” she giggled. Seeing him lose control for once was a reward in itself. That it had given her what she desired was even better. She straightened and brought her hand to her lips. Every inch of her skin, from the tips of her fingers to the edge of her wrist, was licked clean. His cum gathered on her tongue, she rolled it in her mouth to savour it as much as humanly possible.
More.
Susan was more than happy to give in to her body’s demand. She lowered her lips to his tip, peppering his gleaming glans with light kisses. He groaned, and his manhood twitched in her grasp, but he did not wake.
“You work so hard,” she murmured, kissing down his shaft. “It’s wrong to let such a wonderful man go to bed with full balls. Relieve your load, my love.” Susan tilted her head and pushed her hair to one side, well out of the way of any errant streaks. Putting on a show was for when he was awake to appreciate it. At that moment, she was only concerned with her overwhelming desire to taste his seed. She began to slowly pump his shaft with her hands, with her lips wrapped around his tip as she sucked him dry. While his explosive orgasms were quite enjoyable, there was something truly satisfying about drawing out his pleasure with careful, measured strokes.
Every drop of cum was fastidiously lapped up. Her love for its taste sometimes made it quite difficult to decide where he should finish. She liked him in her mouth, on her face, leaking out of her pussy…
Heat bloomed in her belly at the thought of his seed inside her. She decided it had been too long since she had been bent over a table and fucked so hard that she forgot her own name. It would happen soon, she vowed, as she licked his shaft clean. She smiled at the sound of a satisfied sigh. Harry had enjoyed her ministrations, even if he wasn’t awake during the act. Overcome with sudden curiosity as she stared at the gleaming skin of his erection, Susan placed her hand on his thigh next to his manhood. It was just as thick as her arm and much bigger than her hand. Stuffing her arm inside her sounded ridiculous, but having him stretch her out, leaving her sore for days…
It had been far too long. He needed to fuck her silly before she lost her mind, she decided. Tomorrow, she thought, if she could convince Harry to call in sick and spend the day with her in bed.
For now, however, it was time for sleep. Overcome with sudden exhaustion, Susan turned in place once more and cuddled into Harry’s side, half on the bed and half on his body. Her legs tangled with his, and her arms wrapped around his body, and she used the leverage to pull herself closer to him. She kissed his cheek, then buried her face in the crook of his neck. A blanket was unnecessary. Harry’s body gave off all the warmth she needed.
“Susie?” Harry called out, his voice thick with sleep. “You’re back? How was your bath?”
“Better than expected,” Susan yawned.
“I had such a good dream… You were kissing me all over… then you went down on me. Felt good,” he mumbled.
“Keep dreaming, my darling husband,” Susan grinned. “Maybe one day your dream will come true. Until then, goodnight.”
Notes:
A nice and sweet chapter to soothe everyone's spirits. As much as I am a 'plot' focused writer, sometimes you need one or two such chapters or even stories as a nice break from everything. The third and final chapter of this story will see the roles reversed, and I'm eager to write one chapter from Harry's perspective, and hopefully it turns out just as good as this one did! I like fiddling around with new concepts and ideas, so always remember to tell me what you liked and I'll try to include them in future chapters and stories!
Comments
Brian Jordan
I'm greatly enjoying this but was suddenly struck by a sudden, terrible thought: what if this was all a dream on Susan's part? I prefer to set the idea aside as my mind being annoying and enjoy this tale as is. Thank you.
R. Collins
There was an issue with the permissions, I fixed it. You should be able to see it now if you scroll down!
Curtis Rowell
Where is chapter one?
