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The Grass Is Always Greener Chapter 23.
🕑 Added 2023-07-29 17:40:06 +0000 UTCContent Warnings: BJs, Cum Facial, Overstimulation, Teasing, Breast Play, Lactation.
“I need your help with something,” Daphne whispered, slipping into the empty space on the bench next to George. She smiled and waved at Harry, watching him walk out of the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall had approached them while they were having breakfast and told him that Professor Dumbledore had requested a meeting with him. He had accepted the invitation despite her reservations about the timing of the request. Why did the man want to meet Harry the day after Crouch was killed?
She waited until he left before turning to the couple whose breakfast she had interrupted.
Tracey looked at her best friend with raised eyebrows from across the table while her boyfriend turned towards Daphne with a wary expression on his face.
“Helping you never ends well for me. And if this is about what happened last night-”
“I don’t care that you pranked the legion of idiots that populate my house, Weasley, although I am rather upset with the fact that my boyfriend kept it hidden from me.”
“He kept the plan hidden because he thought you’d stop him,” Tracey pointed out.
“I would have. I don’t need anyone to fight my battles for me,” Daphne said in a low, forced growl, trying her best to sound upset. She wasn’t a pitiable damsel in distress who needed rescuing. She could take care of herself and had done so her entire life.
She couldn’t bring herself to be upset with Harry because it felt damn good for someone else to care about her enough to take care of her even if she would never admit it out loud. She had a reputation to maintain, after all. She glanced over at the Slytherin table, smirking at the sight of Pansy dressed in Scarlet and Gold Robes, her hair dyed the same color. The girl shifted in her seat to glare at her, causing a loud farting sound to echo through the Great Hall much to the amusement of the people seated at the other three tables.
“I have to say though, as far as payback goes, this is sweet. I saw what you did to the Common Room.” Daphne smirked, before sobering up. “No, what I want has nothing to do with the mischief you may or may not have committed.”
“I wasn’t talking about the prank.”
“What else happened last night?” Daphne asked, feigning ignorance. Her heart was hammering in her chest and she racked her brain, quickly going over everything that had happened in the forest, wondering if she had missed something. Had Hermione told the rest of their friends? Daphne hoped that was not the case, that Harry’s best friend had not betrayed their trust. Secrets like these rarely stayed hidden and the last thing they needed was for someone like Skeeter to find out what had truly transpired in the forest.
“You haven’t heard yet? It’s what everyone is talking about.” George gestured around them. It seemed there were clumps of students on all four benches of the Great Hall, all of them whispering in hushed tones. Even the teachers seated behind the bench on the raised dais at the head of the Hall were engrossed in heated discussions, completely ignoring the mayhem originating from the Slytherin table. Snape, usually so protective of his students, simply shooed a grumpy Draco away when he approached the table and went back to what appeared to be a very tense argument with Karkaroff.
“I call it dick brain. She goes stupid for a few hours every morning after Harry’s spent the night rearranging her guts. Only has her future husband on her mind and pays no attention to anything else going on around her,” Tracey teased, completely unaffected by Daphne’s deathly glare. She was too used to her best friend’s prickly outer shell to be affected by it. “Crouch was found murdered at the edge of the Forbidden Forest last night. Krum was found next to him. Hermione raised the alarm when she went to visit Hagrid and found a red star glowing in the sky above the clearing the two were in. She’s in the Hospital Wing with Krum now, poor girl.”
“What does this have to do with me?” Daphne asked blandly. Life in Pureblood Society had taught her well and her poker face was flawless.
“It all seems awfully convenient, doesn’t it? Almost like someone wanted them to be found. We thought that-”
“Harry and I are somehow entangled in this mess?” Daphne asked, cutting George off. She forced a laugh, clamping down on her anxiety ruthlessly. It’s alright, she told herself.
Nobody was suspicious.
Yet, her brain reminded her.
“I mean, given the things you two have been up all year, kinda, yeah,” Tracey answered for her boyfriend.
“Everything that has happened to Harry and I was forced on us. All we want is a quiet year to focus on our relationship. Besides, we had dinner with my parents and then Harry spent the rest of the night, how did you put it… rearranging my guts in the Morgana Suite of Club Black.” It was more information than she would have normally shared but she needed to nip any rumors of her or Harry being present in the forest in the bud before they took root.
She loved Tracey, but her best friend sorely lacked a filter and the knowledge of when to shut up. One careless conversation and Skeeter would be on their trail and with the Third Task fast approaching, fending her off was the last thing Harry needed.
“Just a thought. Harry was pretty upset after the fiasco of the Second Task.”
Daphne smiled venomously. “If Harry wants to go after the judges for what they put me, Hermione, and that poor Veela girl through for their stupid Tournament, he has my full support. I’m pretty sure my parents would happily aid him in his endeavor. But you and I know he’s much too sweet for that.”
“You’re not,” George pointed out nervously.
“No, I’m not. But I’ve been restraining myself from doing things my boyfriend would disapprove of and one of those things, sadly, is murder.”
“Hasn’t stopped you before,” Tracey pointed out with a smirk. What Daphne had done to Smiff a week ago was quickly becoming the stuff of legends. “I doubt Harry approves of you threatening to carve out Theodore’s tongue.”
“What Harry doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”
“He doesn’t know you threatened Smiff?”
Daphne smirked at George’s question. “He knows I threatened him. Harry doesn’t know what I threatened him with. He agrees with me that a minor… ‘incentive’... to get Smiff to abandon his lecherous ways was warranted.”
“Girl, I’m your best friend and everything but you have a problem. Your obsession with chopping off body parts is kinda creepy.”
“You threatened to cut off my balls and feed them to me the night I helped you get together with Harry,” George pointed out with a crooked smile, neglecting to mention the part where all of that had only happened because he had accidentally let her drink a glass of champagne spiked with Veritaserum.
“I rather like my boyfriend’s balls. They’re symmetrical and aesthetically pleasing,” Tracey said mildly, buttering a piece of toast. “I’d much prefer it if they stayed attached to his body. Although if you really want to chop them off, please preserve them in a pickle jar instead of tossing them away. They’ll look good on my nightstand.”
“Hey!” George exclaimed, turning to his girlfriend with an aggrieved expression on his face.
“Don’t worry,” Daphne murmured. She patted George’s arm and gave him a sweet smile that fooled no one. “I’ll only break out my carving knives if you don’t help me.”
“If it’s not something to do with what happened in the forest or the prank, what is it?”
“Rumor has it that you know the muggleborn running the under-the-wraps tattoo parlor in Hogsmeade. An appointment with her is by invitation only. I need an invitation, George.”
“Thinking of getting a magical tattoo?” Tracey asked with a grin.
“Actually… I’m thinking of getting two.”
---
“Gumdrop,” Harry muttered, using the password Professor McGonagall had given him. He stared at the statue of the phoenix, the unmoving stone in complete contrast to how he remembered Fawkes. Stone did not suit a creature as evocative and beautiful as a phoenix.
The statue slowly receded and pushed to one side, revealing the moving staircase. Harry hopped onto the bottom step and let it carry him up to the entrance of the office.
He had been in the Headmaster’s inner sanctum only once before and then, like now, he had been under a cloud of suspicion. Nobody had anything they could use to link him to Crouch’s murder but Harry knew that did not mean people like Skeeter wouldn’t try.
He pushed open the heavy wooden door, looking around the empty room in surprise. It was in many ways unchanged from how he had last seen it. Portraits of Past Headmasters still dotted the walls. Most of them were fast asleep but Harry spotted a beady-eyed old man’s gaze fixed on him, following his journey deeper into the office. Dumbledore’s desk was still littered with arcane equipment and books on topics he did not understand. Fawke’s perch was sadly empty, depriving Harry of a chance to reunite with the bird who had once saved his life.
What was different was the cauldron on Dumbledore’s desk. It was small, made of dull gray stone, and etched with runes. It contained in it a shimmering silvery substance that was neither liquid nor gas. Harry walked up to the desk and leaned over the cauldron, frowning as he saw the silvery substance clear and show him a picture.
It was almost like he was watching a magical television. Dumbledore, Fudge, and a man he did not recognize were obviously conducting what looked to be a trial. A young man with messy, sandy hair stood in the well of the courtroom, looking up at the trio with a maniacal smile that seemed strangely familiar to Harry.
He was sure he did not know who the man was but that smile… why did it feel like he had seen that smile before?
Harry pushed the thought from his mind and leaned forward, eager to hear what the faint voices were saying.
“Where’s my father? Coward couldn’t even bother to show up, could he?”
The young man spat on the floor.
“He has recused himself from this case,” Fudge answered ponderously. “For obvious reasons. Your betrayal has shocked us all but no one has been more affected by it than-”
“Harry.”
Harry jumped away from the Pensieve at the sound of the quiet voice, his heart hammering in his chest.
“Professor Dumbledore,” Harry said, biting back the instinctive anger he felt at the sight of the old man. He hadn’t forgiven him (or any of the other judges) for what they had put Daphne through but given the events of the night before and the fact that the man had just caught him snooping around, Harry thought it best to ignore his instincts and stay civil, at least until he knew why he had been summoned. Had they missed something in their hurry to escape the clearing the night before? A piece of evidence tying them to what had happened? He hoped not.
Huh. Maybe Daphne is rubbing off on me more than I realized.
“Please, sit,” Dumbledore murmured, his robes sweeping the floor as he walked over to the ornate chair behind the desk and sat down on it. He gently stroked his long, white beard as he watched Harry take a seat, studying his student with an inscrutable expression on his face.
Harry did as instructed, still trying to act like he had no idea why he had been summoned. “Is there something you wish to tell me, Professor? Something about the Third Task?” He was unable to keep the accusatory tone out of his voice.
Why hadn’t they been warned that the ‘something precious’ taken from them would be a living person? That it would be the one they loved the most? In a just world, he would have had the opportunity to suffer the consequences of not completing the Task instead of subjecting Daphne to an hour of mental and physical torture. She tried to hide it from him, but he was a light sleeper and he knew she suffered from daily night terrors and Tracey had told him they were worse on the nights they slept apart.
“You are upset.”
Harry did not say anything, he simply gave the Headmaster a look that said, ‘Duh’.
“What happened to Miss Greengrass was regrettable-” Dumbledore started, only for Harry to cut him off.
Harry knew their conversation was going off the rails but he could not help himself. Not when the man was talking like the Task had caused Daphne to suffer from a stubbed toe or some other minor inconvenience, not a horrifying and traumatizing experience that she would have to live with for the rest of her life.
“What’s regrettable is the bullying that goes on unabated in Slytherin under Snape,” Harry growled.
“Professor Snape, Harry,” Dumbledore corrected mildly, his face serene. “The scene that greeted me this morning in the Great Hall makes it seem that the Slytherins are the victims, not the perpetrators of bullying, Harry.”
“I have no idea who did that, Professor, but if I were to hazard a guess, I’d say it was someone who thought it was high time they got a taste of their own medicine,” Harry said, feeling a strange sense of calm wash over him. There was a time for brute force, and there was a time for subtlety. This was definitely the latter.
Admitting that he had ensured Malfoy and his friends got what they deserved would most definitely feel good, but the punishment that would earn him would interfere with his plans for future pranks. He wasn’t interested in fame or praise.
All he wanted was to make the people who had hurt his precious flower pay.
“An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.”
Not if we pluck out two of theirs in return for one of ours, Harry thought savagely. Perhaps it was all the time he had spent with Daphne or maybe this was truly who he was. He never had anyone other than Ron and Hermione to protect before, and he did not love them the way he loved Daphne.
His love for her was an all-consuming fire and he was quickly coming to realize there was nothing he wouldn’t do, no line he would not cross to keep her safe. Protecting her and the future she dreamed of was all that mattered
When he understood that Harry would not say anything in response, Dumbledore sighed. “You have a great destiny, Harry,” Dumbledore said gravely. Harry shifted in his chair, slightly unnerved by the man’s piercing gaze. “It is more important than any one person.”
Harry glared at Dumbledore, all discomfort forgotten. Was the Headmaster suggesting he abandon Daphne and focus on some nebulous destiny? The same destiny that had robbed him of his parents?
“Do you have a problem with Daphne, Headmaster? Is that why you put her at the bottom of the lake?” Did he know about her history, know what would happen to her when she was surrounded by water for all that time? His voice got low, dangerous and he completely forgot he was mentally preparing to fight the most powerful Wizard of their age.
“I did not,” Dumbledore admitted with a weary sigh. “I only learned of Miss Greengrass’ aversion to water through her parents, well after the Task had concluded. Given the events of last night, they informed me this morning that they have decided to stay in Hogsmeade until the conclusion of the tournament. If I had known-”
“There was nothing you could have done,” Harry finished for Dumbledore. “After all, the magic of the Goblet is inviolable.”
“That is true.”
No it isn’t, Harry wanted to shout. “You could have told us. I’d have bowed out. Failed the Second Task, it wouldn’t have mattered to me,” Harry hissed angrily. “Nothing was worth putting Daphne through that. Nothing!”
“If you had declined to participate, it would have constituted a breach of your magical contract with the Goblet. Your magic would have been stripped from you, Harry.” Dumbledore frowned and Harry got the feeling that the man would have sacrificed Daphne a thousand times before letting that eventuality come to pass.
“You know he’s back. Voldemort,” Harry guessed. That had to be the only reason Dumbledore was so protective of him and his magic. Without it, he wouldn’t have the insight he had into Voldemort’s mind through his dreams. The question was, who had told the Headmaster about them?
He and Daphne had concluded that he shared some sort of connection with Voldemort and that he could take advantage of that connection to enter Voldemort’s mind. Whether he could do it on command or only through dreams was something he did not know yet.
“Sirius is in touch with me. He keeps me apprised of your… dreams. The dreams, combined with the Dark Mark at the Quidditch World Cup seem to suggest that not only is he back, but he is actively gathering strength.”
“And you want me to fight him.”
“That is your destiny,” Dumbledore murmured, leaning back in his chair with a tired sigh. “It has been your destiny ever since that fateful night.”
“Without Daphne, I have nothing to fight for,” Harry replied, his conviction ringing true in his voice. “He might as well win if I lose her. Something to think about, Headmaster.” With that, he stood, not in the mood to talk anymore. It seemed the entire world was against his relationship with Daphne. Snape was understandable and Skeeter only lived for scandal. But Moody and now, Dumbledore? Why were they taking such a keen interest in his relationship?
He knew Dumbledore hadn’t said it outright, but it was clear he disapproved of him being with Daphne. He did not know how, but he was now determined to find out the reason behind said disapproval.
He had almost reached the door when Dumbledore called out again.
“Harry?”
“Yes, Professor?” Harry asked, without turning.
“Do you know anything about Mister Crouch’s death? As you may have heard, he was found in the forest alongside Mister Krum, who I regret to inform you, had been Imperioused by somebody.”
“I’m sorry, Professor. I spent the night with Daphne and her parents. The first I heard of it was this morning. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to check in on Hermione and Viktor in the Hospital Wing.” With that, he left, shutting the door behind him.
---
Later That Evening:
“Hand it over, gentlemen!” Daphne crowed, holding her hand out. Seamus and Dean groaned and slapped a galleon each into her waiting palm while Lavender looked on with amusement.
“What’s going on?” Harry asked with a quiet chuckle. He shut the door behind him and walked over to stand by Daphne, bending to kiss her head. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of the happy smile on her face. Daphne spent as much time in the Gryffindor Common Room and his dorms as she did in hers (she and Tracey, as a rule, avoided the Slytherin Common Room like the plague) and it was truly heartening to see her be this comfortable around his housemates.
It had been a slow process with its fair share of bumps and hurdles. The only people to initially accept the two girls had been himself and the Twins (for obvious reasons), the Chasers, and Hermione. Everyone else had treated them with hostility and suspicion until Tracey kicked Crabbe in the balls for trying to threaten a first-year Gryffindor girl who refused to give up the package of sweets she’d gotten from home. Most people stopped grumbling about their presence in the Gryffindor Common Room after that.
After Daphne threatened Theodore Smiff (Harry had found the image of his extremely feminine girlfriend confidently threatening the six-foot Slytherin Keeper who was built like a gorilla highly amusing) when he wolf-whistled at Angelina in Snape’s presence, the acceptance transformed into friendship.
Other than Ron, everyone in his dorms now loved his girlfriend. Which was just as well, considering he was about to ask her to move in with him. He had spent the day thinking about his conversation with Dumbledore. The man had been right. It was time to think about his priorities, his future, and his destiny.
The answer to all three?
Daphne.
“We’re playing poker.”
“What she means to say is that she’s stealing all of our money,” Dean said with a groan.
“I can’t help the fact that you suck at the game, gentlemen.”
“You’re not playing?” Harry asked Neville.
His round-faced friend was looking at Daphne with an awestruck expression on his face. Despite the fact that they were the same age, Daphne had taken to treating him like a younger brother, another fact that was highly amusing to Harry. Even Snape had bent to Daphne’s fierce protectiveness and kept his bullying in check whenever she paired up his Neville.
“Daphne’s teaching me,” Neville murmured, blushing slightly.
“We are working on his poker face.”
“It sucks,” Neville mumbled.
“You’ll get there, honey,” Daphne said with a kind smile. Neville’s blush deepened when she reached out to pat his knee.
“She’s also giving him pointers for his date with Ginny. You aren’t the only one who struck gold at the Yule Ball, Potter,” Dean teased with a smirk. He gathered up all the cards on the floor in a deck and began to shuffle them. “The general consensus is that if he takes her to Madame Puddifoot’s he’s coming back covered in warts.”
Harry ignored the annoyed grunt from behind the closed curtains around Ron’s bed. “Take her to the Shrieking Shack, Neville. She’ll love exploring its haunted ruins,” Harry advised, gently grabbing Daphne’s arm and pulling her up to her feet.
“Well, deal me out. The old ball and chain is here,” Daphne teased, a smirk on her face. When Harry rolled his eyes she leaned up and kissed his cheek. “I love balls. And chains. And whips,” she whispered, her voice low enough that only he could hear her.
“You’re insatiable,” Harry muttered, pulling his grinning girlfriend to their bed to the sounds of catcalls and wolf-whistles from Dean, Seamus, and Lavender.
“Well, you know what they say. Can’t have too much of a good thing.” Daphne draped herself on the magically enlarged bed on her side and watched as Harry pulled the curtains shut, activating the silencing wards the Twins had kindly provided them. “Merlin, we’ve gone properly domestic.”
Harry looked around. It truly felt like they had. There was now an additional chest next to his that held all of her books and most of her clothes. He had thrown out most of Dudley’s older, more disgusting clothes to make space for Daphne’s things in his closet. The bed was enlarged, they had a plant in a pot on the windowsill, and a mixture of his books and hers were scattered on the desk. Her hairbrush and makeup were neatly arranged on his dressing table. For all intents and purposes, they were already living together.
“So,” Daphne drawled, playing with the stack of cards she had snagged from Dean before leaving. “How did the meeting with the wise old man go?”
Harry shrugged. He sat on the bed next to her feet, the mattress creaking as it sank under his weight. “Weird,” he murmured, pulling her feet onto his lap. He slowly pulled off her gray socks, carefully setting them on the floor before starting to massage her aching soles.
“Fuck,” Daphne groaned, her eyes fluttering shut.
This man will be the death of me, she thought, feeling a familiar need build up in his core as Harry took care of her. Whether it be through his cock, his hands, or just his words, her boyfriend knew exactly how to make her feel good.
“Good weird or ‘we need to change our names and leave this country’ weird?” Daphne asked, tugging on the strings that held her cloak together. She undid them, letting the black garment hang off her shoulders.
“Weird weird.” Harry’s hands shifted higher, slowly massaging her slender legs. Daphne had transformed her uniform shoes into heels and refused to wear anything else, which meant him giving her a massage after a long day had become something of a ritual for them. “He was watching something in this strange cauldron. There was a man who was being tried for something. I’ve never seen him before but I could swear his face felt familiar.”
“A Pensieve?” Daphne asked.
“Maybe? I dunno what that is.”
“It’s an artifact that lets you look at memories. They can be your own or someone else’s. Maybe the man just had a familiar kind of face. Maybe he just looked like someone you know,” Daphne responded with a shrug.
“Maybe,” Harry murmured, massaging her calves distractedly.
“Did he say anything about Crouch?”
“Not really. He just apologized for what happened in the Second Task and told me your parents will be sticking around until the end of the Tournament because they’re worried about your safety.”
Daphne groaned. “I swear if my mother had a bigger crush on you she’d marry you herself. You know she’s using Crouch’s death as an excuse to spend more time with us, right?”
“A mother who wants to spend time with her daughter. The horror,” Harry teased, rolling his eyes.
Daphne shrugged off her cloak and sat up, her gray eyes serious as she searched Harry’s face for signs of… something. What it was, even she did not know. But she was convinced she would recognize it if she saw it. “Were you serious last night? In Club Black? When you said you wanted me as I was, that you saw a future for us? Because I can guarantee you my mother is planning a wedding right this very minute.”
“Oh, I know. She asked me to go cake tasting with her.”
“What? When? Did she drop by to visit us? I popped into Hogsmeade to do some shopping…” Daphne blinked, her confusion turning to annoyance. “That’s something the bride and groom do-” She paused, an angry expression on her face when she registered the mischievous smirk on his. “You’re an asshole, Potter,” she growled, smacking his chest.
“Why the sudden doubts, love?”
Daphne shrugged. It scared her, how easily he lowered her defenses. Around him, she was defenseless and vulnerable, and it took her a long time to realize it was a good thing. He was her rock, the source of her strength.
“I did something today as a surprise for you. Our six-month anniversary is coming up soon and I had an idea for an early gift,” Daphne explained with a shy smile. “Except now I’m worried I went completely overboard and you’ll think I’m needy and clingy and-”
Harry leaned towards her and silenced her with a kiss. “I go to bed thinking of you. I wake up thinking of you. I dream of the day you move in here with me,” Harry whispered against her lips, caressing her rosy cheek with the back of his hand. “If anyone is needy and clingy, it’s this old ball and chain.”
Daphne giggled. It was a sound of sheer happiness, one reserved for him and only him. Not even Tracey and Astoria got to see this side of her. “If you play Strip Poker with me you can see what the gifts are.”
Harry pulled away with a laugh. “I’m not playing strip poker with you, princess.”
Daphne pouted. “Why not?”
“Because I’ll end up naked and you won’t even have your socks off.”
“I guess you’ll just have to wait until our anniversary to see it, then,” Daphne said with a shrug. She undid her ponytail, letting her perfect golden curls tumble around her shoulders and down her back.
Harry grabbed her arm and pulled her into his lap, grinning at her excited squeal. Her taunting and goading never failed. The impish smile, the way in which she coaxed him to take control, Daphne Greengrass knew exactly how to awaken his all-consuming need to ravish her. He grabbed the edge of her white blouse, buttons flying everywhere and clattering to the floor as he ripped it open.
“Mister Potter! This is highly improper!” Daphne screamed, struggling playfully in his lap. She was about to get away, about to hop off his lap and lead him on a merry chase in the small space around their bed that ended with him pouncing on her and pounding her into the carpet when he growled and his fingers dug under the straps of her lacy purple bra, trapping her in place.
He pulled the straps down her shoulders and the purple cups, already struggling to constrain the heavy creamy mounds slid down without much resistance, her large breasts bouncing free. Daphne groaned as her D-cups jiggled, her pink nipples hardening within seconds as they were caressed by the cool winter air.
“I want you,” Harry hissed, his fingers digging into the soft skin of her hips as he pulled her closer. Daphne instinctively began to grind against the rapidly growing tent in his pants, her pink lips parted in a quiet moan.
The intensity of his gaze immediately turned her playfulness into need and she nodded, threading her fingers through his messy black hair. She gently tugged on his locks, guiding his lips to the stiff rosy peak that crowned her creamy mound.
Harry did not hesitate in wrapping his lips around her breast, taking as much of the soft flesh into the warm embrace of his mouth as he could. Daphne moaned and her eyes fluttered shut as his rough tongue began to trace the rim of her large pink areola and she intensified her grinding, humping on his erection with wanton need.
“Mine,” Harry hummed, the vibrations reverberating through her and awakening something in her very core. Daphne bit back a strangled shriek as a gush of her juices leaked out of her and stained his trousers. She wore no panties, she had stopped wearing them with her uniform ever since she discovered Harry enjoyed a quickie or two in broom cupboards in between classes.
His tongue lazily flicked her stiff nipple, the gentle pressure coaxing a big fat drop of milk from the nub. It rolled onto his tongue and Harry groaned loudly. It was… sweet… heavenly… he had no words to accurately describe how good it tasted.
“Yours,” Daphne moaned, rolling her hips against his. The tent made by his rock-hard cock caused the rough wool of his pants to rub against her soft pussy lips, providing her with the barest of friction. She increased the pace of her humping but it was only enough to bring her to the edge, not grant her relief. Still she kept going, her mind fuzzy and delirious as she teetered on the edge of a mind-blowing orgasm.
“Harry, please,” Daphne begged hoarsely, groaning in relief when Harry began to suck, the pressure building up in her chest vanishing. Healers in Mungo’s had long theorized that a witch’s milk strengthened the magical core of a drinker and if her love was going into battle, he would do so with all her strength.
“Bhetther?” Harry asked thickly, gulping down the steady stream of sweet milk flowing into his mouth. He kept sucking, his teeth gently clamping down on her throbbing nipple. He tugged on it, his eyes going wide as the nub squirted a jet of milk into his mouth.
“Yes… HARRY!” Daphne shrieked, her body going limp in his arms as the unexpected orgasm crashed into her with the force of a tsunami. She kept grinding against him deliriously even as she squirted, her arousal coating her slick thighs. Her juices drenched her skirt and his trousers, its heady scent hanging heavy in the air.
Harry kept sucking, unwilling to pull away and waste so much as a drop of the sweet nectar even as his cock throbbed uncomfortably in his pants. He gulped down her milk hungrily, rolling the delicious, creamy, thick liquid on his tongue, savoring its taste before he swallowed.
He finally pulled away when the steady stream slowed down to a trickle but even as he withdrew, his hungry gaze flickered to her other breast.
“Didn’t have dinner?” Daphne teased tiredly, slumping against him. She sighed when he kissed her sweaty forehead, his gentle hands making short work of her bra. He tossed it to the floor before he moved to unzip her skirt.
“I can never have enough of you,” Harry admitted quietly.
“Good.” As much as she wanted to stay on his lap and nuzzle into the warmth of his chest while he held her, she could feel his cock straining against his pants and knew exactly how uncomfortable it could be. He deserved the same pleasure he had given her.
He deserves more, Daphne thought, forcing her reluctant body off his lap. She shimmied out of her skirt, letting it pool around her ankles. “Good,” she repeated, stepping out of her skirt and walking towards him on wobbly feet. “Makes me feel better about showing you my gift.”
“What is it?”
Daphne did not bother answering. Instead, she wordlessly turned to face the curtain, presenting her back to him. She pulled her blonde hair over her left shoulder, baring her right one to him and letting him see the small lightning bolt etched onto her skin in black ink.
“Can you touch it please?” Daphne requested quietly.
Harry stared at it in wonder. It took a second for her request to register and he reached out with a trembling hand, gently tracing the tattoo with his fingers.
“Oh!” Daphne groaned. Her legs trembled and she had to reach out and grab the nightstand to keep her balance as her knees buckled. She bit her lip as another gush of arousal leaked out of her slick slit and stained her gleaming thighs.
“Daphne?!”
“I’m okay,” Daphne said hoarsely, her chest heaving as she panted for breath. “That was just the charm kicking in.”
“What charm?”
Daphne turned around slowly, her cheeks pink. “No matter where you are, if you think about the tattoo and me, I’ll feel a gentle tingle down my spine,” Daphne said softly, spreading her shaky legs so that see his next present. “That way you’ll know I’m not lonely, because I’ll always have a part of you with me.”
“I love it,” Harry said, his breath hitching as his eyes rested on the golden snitch tattooed on the inside of her right thigh. It was incredibly detailed, perfectly capturing the runes etched onto the golden ball and the fine webbing of its wings.
“Can you touch it too, please?” Daphne asked, leaning into him and grasping his shoulders to brace herself. “Oh, daddy!” Daphne moaned as the tips of his fingers brushed against the snitch. The ball sprung to life and zipped around her thigh, slowly moving higher until it was at her core, the tip of its wing caressing her lips as it fluttered. The vibrations were transmitted directly to her sensitive clit, nearly driving her crazy with pleasure.
“I gift you my pleasure,” Daphne whispered, gently grasping his wrist and guiding his hand up to her wet folds. “This is yours.”
“H-how does it work?” Harry asked, breathing heavily.
“This one is more complicated and only works in close proximity. We have to be in the same room,” Daphne explained breathlessly, leaning into him for support. “The snitch will obey whatever command you give it. You can speak to it,” Daphne giggled at the thought of Harry yelling at her pussy. “Or think about what you want it to do.”
Harry watched with wide eyes as the snitch obeyed his command and buzzed harder against her clit, drawing out a surprised shriek from Daphne.
“It’s perfect,” Harry whispered as he caressed the snitch, unable to believe his eyes. “You’re perfect.”
He slowly got to his feet, his pupils blown and breathing ragged. “Move in with me,” Harry whispered, his voice hoarse.
“What do you mean, Harry?” Daphne asked softly. She reached out with trembling fingers to undo his cloak, letting it fall in a heap around his ankles. She unbuttoned his white shirt, biting back a groan as her fingers grazed against the tanned, scarred skin of his chest.
“I mean… Look I know this is just a dormitory and there’s nothing legal binding us together.” Harry paused, taking a second to order his thoughts. “I’m sure we’ll have our own home and the big fat wedding your mother is planning for us. But we now know for sure that Voldemort’s back. He has spies in this castle and presumably those spies have been trying to kill me all year. They got to Crouch and Krum, which means they can get to me.”
“I won’t let anything happen-”
“I know you won’t, my sweet viper. Couldn’t ask for a deadlier bodyguard,” Harry teased, leaning in and kissing away the tear streaking down her cheek. “But I don’t want to wait. I want us to start the rest of our life, now.”
“You want us to play at being husband and wife and to treat this as our home?” Daphne asked, hoping she hadn’t wildly misunderstood what he meant.
Harry nodded shyly. “Yes. Look, I know it’s silly but-”
It was Daphne’s turn to lunge forward and silence him with a quick kiss. His arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer. She moaned and he took advantage of her parted lips to slip his tongue into the warm wetness of her mouth. For the first time instead of meeting him in a playful duel she submitted, feeling giddy and lightheaded as he plundered her mouth.
“Yes,” she whispered, her chest heaving as she gasped for breath. She pulled away for air but rested her forehead against his, resisting the urge to pepper his face with kisses. “Yes, yes, yes!” She squealed, giving him a radiant smile. They had the rest of their lives for the perfect proposal, the pretty white dress, and a house of their dreams. For now, they had each other, and it was all she needed.
“I have no idea how to be a husband,” Harry admitted with a light blush coating his cheeks. The only example he had growing up was Vernon and he was determined to be nothing like his uncle.
“And I have no idea how to be a wife,” Daphne admitted with a shrug, completely unbothered with the admission.
“Didn’t… don’t you have a tutor specifically to teach you that during summers?”
“An etiquette teacher,” Daphne corrected, slowly sinking to her knees. She spread her legs, giving him an unobstructed view of her bare, pink core and the snitch that fluttered around her upper thighs and pussy lips, silently reminding him that he could control the magical tattoo with a single thought. “And one of the lessons she taught me was that good Pureblood wives don’t let their husbands stuff their massive cocks down our throats like we’re common mistresses,” Daphne teased, unbuttoning Harry’s pants. “Too bad I’m such a shit student,” she whispered, pulling his pants and boxers down to his ankles, her eyes fixed on her pseudo-husband’s throbbing manhood.
“Is it really that common?”
“To have a mistress?” Daphne asked, her stormy eyes flickering up to study his face as her insecurities flared for a brief second. “Yeah. I know men who love their wives and still have a mistress. It’s just a fact of life in Pureblood circles. My parents are really the exception in this regard, not the rule.”
“I won’t ever-”
“I know,” Daphne whispered, her fears vanishing at the quiet sincerity in his voice. She rewarded with a quick kiss on his sensitive kiss, giggling at the groan her actions elicited. “And I’m not going to let made-up rules dictate what I can and can’t do for my husband.”
“What do you want to do for him?” Harry asked, his eyes fixed on the snitch buzzing on her thigh. It took him a few seconds but the snitch finally obeyed his mental command and started to vibrate faster, one of its wings fluttering hard against Daphne’s sensitive nub.
“I-Harry!” Daphne gasped, snapping her thighs shut as the vibrations assaulted her clit. Not that it did anything but add the tiniest bit of friction to her overstimulated pussy, driving her wild. “Please!” she begged, looking up at him with a pout.
“What will you do for your husband, Mrs. Potter?”
The endearment awakened something fierce in Daphne. She looked up at him with a determined expression and took a second to collect herself, slowly spreading her legs again to let him watch the snitch toy with her clit. She was wet, dripping wet, her arousal leaking from her needy pussy and splashing down into a small puddle that had formed under her. All for him.
“When he comes home after a hard day of saving the world,” Daphne whispered, keeping her eyes locked with his. Her stormy gray eyes held a degree of love and reverence that they would never show for anyone else. “I’m going to undress him.” She pulled his pants and boxers free from his feet and pushed them out of the way.
“Then?” Harry questioned, unable to pull his eyes away from hers.
“Then I’ll wrap my hands around his massive cock, well, I’ll try my best.” She wrapped her slender fingers around the base of his length, barely able to encircle his entire girth with her hands. She gave his cock an experimental pump, grinning at the needy groan her action elicited.
“And then I’m going to spend as much time as I can worshiping his manhood…” Daphne began to slowly pump his shaft, angling it upwards. His heavy balls swung freely, gently smacking her cheek. She giggled and tilted her head, her plump pink lips wrapping around his cum-engorged orb.
“Fi…” Harry moaned as her teeth grazed his sensitive skin, the girl applying just the barest hint of pressure as she swallowed the entire testicle.
“Mhmmmm,” Daphne hummed, the vibrations massaging his balls nearly causing Harry to lose control. A trickle of precum dribbled out of his tip and splattered on her forehead. It made its way down her nose and cheek, leaving a gleaming trail in its wake. Daphne kept pumping his cock slowly, determined to draw out his pleasure and help him relax.
“If this is marriage…” Harry lost the ability to speak when Daphne began to swirl her tongue around his ball, massaging it in slow, methodical, concentric circles. She began to suck, timing the application of pressure in time with her pumping of his cock.
It was a slow, pleasurable torture and in retaliation Harry increased the intensity of vibrations on her clit.
Daphne faltered for a second as the snitch buzzed harder, but she took advantage of the situation and moaned as loudly as she could instead of suppressing it, the vibrations tickling Harry’s sensitive balls and driving him crazy. Precum was freely flowing out of his tip, staining her forehead and cheeks.
Harry’s hands buried in her luscious golden curls and he tugged, pulling her free of his balls and up to his twitching manhood. Daphne didn’t need much coaxing and she attacked his cock with a fervor, wrapping her lips around his sensitive tip and swallowing inch after inch even as she kept pumping his shaft at the base.
Throughout it all her gaze never wavered, the girl looking up at the man who had thawed her frigid heart with a mixture of adoration and reverence.
She paused and took a deep breath when his cock hit the back of her throat before allowing the gentle pressure on her scalp to push her down on his length. Her hands shifted to grip his firm thighs for leverage as he impaled her throat. “Oh, Mherlhin!” Daphne moaned as the vibrations assaulting her clit kept increasing in intensity. Her moan caused her throat walls to flutter around Harry’s length, massaging his cock and gripping it almost like her pussy would.
They were both close and Daphne acted on instinct, continuing to moan softly to simulate her pussy as Harry started to rock his hips, pistoning in and out of her tight throat.
She gagged and drooled and choked, her mind gloriously blank. Being his perfect little cumslut was her liberation, the perfect way to relax after a stressful day.
Her hand shifted back to his balls and she rolled the orbs between her fingers, gently squeezing them to draw out the seed they held.
“Daphne!” Harry roared, consumed with a primal, primitive urge to claim her as her fluttering throat walls clamped down around his shaft with every thrust, mimicking a pussy that was almost impossibly tight.
Daphne’s eyes never wavered from his face, silently urging him on. It was her scream as she came that finally pushed him over the edge. Her throat clamped around his shaft and made movement impossible. Her teeth grazed the sensitive skin of his cock and fingers gently squeezed his balls and Harry came with a roar.
He hastily pulled out of her as much as possible, filling her mouth with his hot, thick seed, trickles of it dribbling down her throat before she could even swallow.
It was impossible to swallow it all and she slowly pulled away, letting the last few ropes of his warm cum splash onto her face and into her hair. Her face was coated with his seed within seconds, her perfect alabaster skin covered with huge dollops and long ropes of his cum from forehead to chin.
They stayed like that for a few minutes, both dazed and riding their post-orgasmic high.
Harry was the first to move, collapsing onto the bed with a happy sigh.
“I could get used to marriage,” Harry said dreamily.
“I bet you could,” Daphne teased, looking up at him through eyelashes matted with his cum. “We’ll just need to make sure we stock an entire cabinet full of brandy for my throat.” Daphne chuckled hoarsely. Her legs had no strength in them and she doubted there was any way she could climb onto the bed.
So she stayed in place, kneeling in a puddle of her own cum as the snitch died down and returned to being a normal tattoo.
“What now?”
“Now, husband dear,” Daphne said, gathering up as much of his cum off her skin as she could on a finger before popping it in her mouth and sucking it clean. She repeated the action again and again and again, poking her tongue out and letting him see the cum she had gathered every time. “Tell me about your day.”
Notes:
I let my Espresso Tier and above Patrons vote on what kind of tattoo Daphne should get. It was a really close result when I tallied the votes so I thought, why choose when it's this close? The two tattoos represent different aspects of their relationship. The Bolt is love and the Snitch is lust. If you'd like a say in things like these just sign up to the Espresso tier! I run polls every week. Due to a lot of personal stuff (including my pet dying) July was rough month for me creatively, and I cannot thank you enough for your patience and support. We shall be back to normal from August!
Comments
Abdul Basit
Bruh I love this Story!!!
Erinnyes
Absolutely stupendous. What a perfect mix of sweet fluffy and kinky sexiness.
